Chapter Text
Denji knew that Aki took pride in maintaining a very private lifestyle, but living in close quarters with two other people made that all but impossible to maintain. He was too used to living on his own and maintaining a level of self-sufficiency, yet the other residents of the Hayakawa household stepped all over that. Denji was shameless in the frequency that he asked questions, and it was second nature for Power to get underfoot and into everyone's business simply for her own entertainment.
Included in what Aki deemed private was his training. Denji had more than enough experience in fighting dirty from his childhood and Power seemed to constantly crave uncontrollable violence, both of which paired well with their highly destructive and physical Quirks. As such, the duo felt they were well-suited to jump into any fight they could be thrown at. In contrast, Aki had been forced to compensate for his mental Quirk starting when he was young, and that kind of hard work and regimented training was something he still kept up with.
Early in their shared living arrangement, Aki made a one-time concession and brought Denji and Power to a training session of his. They had arrived at a rented-out boxing ring where he sometimes went to spar with HPSC field operatives he’d worked with before Special Division Four, several of which were waiting for him that evening.
Observing had been fun while it lasted, but after the amount of booing and heckling Power and Denji directed toward anyone in and out of the ring, they were never invited again. A real shame; house arrest put a severe limit on the kinds of entertainment they got, and Denji had to admit that watching Aki beat the shit out of guys way above his weight class was pretty hysterical.
Not many people came by their apartment outside of the few neighbors threatening to file noise complaints against them. The timid, new girl with Special Division Four came by at one point to review some scheduling conflicts with Aki, but she had nearly started hyperventilating after just 10 minutes of harassment by Power and ran out. The girl had never visited them outside of the office again.
The pretty chick with the eye patch would sometimes swing by late in the evening with takeout and a 6-pack of beer. She’d offer Denji a teasing wave, pet Power’s hair if she could get in close enough, and then shoot Aki some painfully obvious heart eyes while teasing him. Eventually, she and Aki would go out onto their apartment balcony to smoke, drink, and chat no matter how cold the winter weather was.
Denji used to try to listen in on their talks, digging around for blackmail material. Then one night he heard the girl try to talk Aki into quitting with her.
Maybe some things should be private. He didn’t listen in on them again after that.
Still, it was by complete accident that they found out about Aki’s Pro Hero not-friend. It had been a month into their shared living situation in the middle of the night, with terrible weather and temperatures just shy of freezing. Not cold enough for snow, nor warm enough for rain, resulting in a disgusting blend of harsh sleet and freezing rain. There was a sharp tapping on the glass of their sliding door which suddenly morphed into a loud banging, forcing everyone out of bed in a panicked frenzy.
There, perched on the apartment balcony was a small man with looming red wings. From his thick, blond hair to his heavy-duty pilot jacket, every inch of him was waterlogged, utterly soaked to the bone. The man knocked again, waving a plastic bag of something held in his other hand.
In a complete contradiction between words and actions, Aki spent the next several minutes berating their newest arrival, all the while letting him inside, throwing a pile of dry towels at him, and taking his bag of what was revealed to be food and throwing it into their microwave to be reheated. Throughout the entire interaction, the soaked man watched on, flipping between amused at Aki’s actions and intrigued by Denji and Power’s presence in the apartment.
At a complete loss for what was going on, Denji couldn’t help but wonder if this guy was a booty call.
Thankfully, he was spared from vocalizing his suspicion and completely embarrassing himself as the man introduced himself without prompting. The birdman, Hawks, turned out to be one of Japan’s top Pro Heroes and an affiliate of the Hero Commission. ‘You could say I’m an investment’, the man had explained unhelpfully when Denji asked what the hell an affiliate even was.
With the weather having taken such a sharp turn for the worse, the hero had figured he could play off getting out of the rain if he did so under the supervision of a Handler. Judging by Aki’s disapproving frown, he didn’t appreciate being used by the hero as an excuse to get off of a late-night patrol. Neither did Denji or Power for that matter, annoyed at being denied the chance to sleep through the night undisturbed. Much to Hawks’ dismay, the duo was unfazed by the Pro Hero’s status as some kind of badass prodigy.
Then the scent of fried food filled the air and the microwave pinged. Suddenly, Power and Denji decided unanimously that the Pro Hero, Hawks, was the greatest hero of all time.
After all, Denji had never tried fried chicken before.
That night spent chatting over food had been the only time Power and Denji had gotten to meet Hawks, and for someone who could talk so much, they hadn’t gotten to know him very well. The way he chatted was more like the Pro Hero flipping through dialogues so scripted that it was hard to imagine the guy could even have a genuine conversation. Only on the rare occasion would he break up the odd habit, often at Aki’s expense. He’d throw out an offhand comment about something funny that had gotten the Handler riled up in the past or a pointed statement about their most recent spar, offering the slightest insight into their strange relationship.
But the Pro Hero’s body language made Denji uneasy. Not outright uncomfortable, but the guy had an odd defensiveness to his posture no matter how relaxed he acted, something Denji could only pick out because he was used to carrying himself similarly. Maybe the guy had a little more bird in him too, because the way he watched them was just a little too long and intense for comfort. Whenever Denji turned to catch him in the act Hawks had turned away as if nothing were wrong, but he knew better, aware that there was something in the hero’s sharp and piercing gaze that was decidedly unnerving. Hawks kept his eyes on Denji, Power, and Aki, looking for something only he seemed aware of.
Denji could have worked himself into knots over this; instead, he devoured as much food as possible and proceeded to get into a violent wrestling match with Power.
Aki watched on, disappointed. Hawks, if anything, had simply seemed amused.
The Pro Hero only stayed around for about an hour, long enough for the rain to calm down, for Hawks to get dry, and for the food to be finished off. The man had stretched out his wings wide, startling Meowy, as he insisted that he had a patrol to return to and couldn’t excuse stalling any longer. Hawks rose to his feet, sliding by to ruffle Power and Denji’s hair, much to their shared annoyance and protest, before shooting a playful wink in Aki’s direction.
Hawks had snuck outside and leaped off their balcony before Aki could finish telling the Pro Hero off.
Denji concluded that Aki didn’t have many friends, and the few that he did have were goddamn weird.