Chapter Text
“The ability to make your own decisions without being controlled by an outside force. Self-directing freedom and moral independence”. Autonomy.
One less crossword to guess. On quiet nights like that, Hiroto found it to be the easiest way to kill his time. He had many of them. As Hawks grew up to be such a well behaved boy, his post as a night guard was kept only for bureaucracy’s sake.
“Jaku’s Forest Fire: Clandestine hospital found hiding 23 children,” the boy read on the opposite side of the newspaper. What a guard he was, hadn't even heard the boy leaving the shower.
Recently his voice had been cracking. To think a few years ago he was that shy kid that wouldn't even speak to him and hide in his closet all night. Things changed and yet stayed the same. Hawks still put his pajamas as fast as he could, his shirt inside out and hanging into his left.
The schedule said he should head straight to bed, and Hiroto shouldn't allow him to wander the pension. Disobeying it, however, had never brought them any problems. If Hawks ever felt sleepy later in the morning because of it, he was good enough to not show it. Despite his circumstances, the kid was an extrovert, and shooting the breeze wasn't something he had many other opportunities to do.
“Poor kids, ‘seems they were getting experimented on”, Hiroto said, just to entertain the boy. It didn't escape from him the hypocrisy of his speech, with himself helping to maintain another child captive for money. “They're still trying to find their families”, continued.
“Did they find the culprits?” Hawks asked casually, sitting cross legged on the floor. His voice was sluggish.
“A kid got scared and lost control of his quirk”, Hiroto replied.
Hawks’ face contorted in the same way it did when he got a math question wrong, and he shook his head. “No, for the kidnappings”, he corrected.
“Nah, all gone for now. They used fake names.” Maybe he spoke too much, not that it would change anything. Silence filled the room as Hiroto watched the engines turning on the kid’s brain.
“Satou-san, is your name fake?” There was no judgment in his voice. He was too understanding, for better or worse.
He hoped the answer wouldn't put a strain on the trust he’d earned over the years. The vagueness of it all was hard, but was for the best. Hiroto took a deep breath to shove his guilt away, and recited as told.
“We're all regulated by the HPSC, kid.”
……..
It was as if he'd woken up in a nightmare, if only for the anguish he felt. The boy didn't remember his name. Or why he was in that white room. There was serum in his veins, and colorful paper animals on the walls. Was he in a kid 's hospital?
He took the needle out of his arm trembling exasperated. Every move made his body ache, yet he forced himself to wander through the hospital with his chest tight and sloppy steps until he stumbled into a kid's play room. Too many heads to count and they were yelling. At him? To somebody else? His brain wasn't processing words yet, or much of anything. A girl was getting closer, but the fast pacing of his heart made him run away before she had the chance.
Doctors surrounded him mid hallway, holding his wrists and his arms close to their bodies, turning the weak desperate motion of his legs useless. His shoulder was grabbed by a man with a yellow flower… face. That wasn't a mask, it was moving as he talked. Seeing as he couldn't escape, the boy made some effort to understand what the doctor was saying.
“... bad for your body. Your home’s here now.” He lost what came right after, the sounds kept getting out of order.
“... treating you…” somebody else said.
“...your friends will be happy to have you.”
Sounds were making sense again. What didn't make sense was the words. He already had a home, that much he was sure… even if he couldn't remember where it was. Who it was.
“My home…” His voice was coarse, and deep. All he had heard of himself was squeals mid panting, why did it feel so off?
They were repeating themselves, nothing about him being released, nothing about his family. Panic overflowed his body. He needed to get home. He needed to get away. Fire emerged from where he was being touched, and it scared him just for a second. Then, it was second nature. His skin didn't feel any pain, the heat didn't bother him, so he walked away without looking back.
At least until he heard the helicopters. He wasn't far yet. The hospital was in a forest, and the uneven floor was hard on his tired bare feet. He didn't even know what way to go. There was a small trail of fire still following him. Holy shit, the whole hospital was on fire, and the trees surrounding it. What had he done? The kids…
From the helicopters tanks of water were being dumped into the mess he'd made. Heroes were helping with it, and rescuing the people he hadn't even thought about while leaving. Blue and red lighting hit his eyes, they were going to arrest him. They should. They couldn't, he had to find his home.
An older girl in a purple hero suit grabbed his elbow. “I got the fireboy”, she informed through her coms. It was now, she was going to bring him in. And yet, he couldn't care. He wasn't afraid of anything actually. Not even of not going home. His aching also stopped. That had to be her quirk.
“It's okay now, kid”, she said smiling. “You're safe now. I'm Karasu.”
“Can you stop the fire?”, she asked. Oh yeah, his hands were still burning. He nodded and did so. Karasu made them sit on the ground guiding him with a light pull.
“Great. Can you tell me what happened?” She landed him a water bottle.
He told her with unnatural calm, fully conscious of every word that left his mouth. Maybe he could get a lighter penalty if they knew it was an accident. Maybe his family could be found and notified.
“You felt really scared, I know it”, she responded, and he had the feeling she really did. “We’re all doing our best to save everyone now, so let's hope for the best outcome.”
When he stayed quiet, Karasu continued.
“I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this, but I think it will ease your guilt. This hospital wasn't legitimate, they didn't have any permissions. You were right to be scared, you have a good intuition.”
She guided him back, surprisingly not to the police helicopter, but to the paramedics first aid tent. The other kids were there, but once Karasu freed his arm, he wasn't brave enough to look at them.
He wished he had her quirk, so he could be a hero too. At night he'd miss the effect of that quirk.
He'd been transferred to a new hospital with the other kids. A legitimate one this time. He was just as lost. People were making too many questions he couldn't answer, he'd already told everything he knew. So much of his time was spent doing therapy. His body felt foreigner and weak, he stumbled and dropped things all the time. He straight up forgot how to do some stuff, like read or turn on the TV. Supervision 24/7 for him. He still couldn't go find his family.
The other kids wouldn't talk to him. They didn't like the fact that he almost burned them alive. Or that he got them separated from their “family” (criminal unethical doctors kidnapping them). It was weird everytime he watched a parent or family member visiting or taking home one of the others. Some of the kids got excited, as he imagined he'd be. Others started screaming, afraid, and he couldn't do anything about it. Some, he was sure, never met those people before, or didn't even remember them. Relatable. He wondered if seeing his family would make him remember anything, but weeks after nobody ever came.
According to the doctors, it was because they didn't have enough information to find them yet. Thirteen year old boy, with white hair and blue flames, body full of old burn scars, how hard could it be? Maybe the scars weren't registered, but the rest should be easy.
Some families made the kids thank him for alerting the heroes, and it was always awkward for all those involved. Even if they were happy with their families, “thank you for starting a hospital fire” couldn't sound genuine. Not that he deserved it.
To make matters worse, waking up gasping for air and frantically trying to keep his quirk from activating was becoming routine. The memories were gone as soon as his eyes opened most times, but choking and drowning were a staple in the ones he kept. The hospital’s psychologist told him it might be his mind’s way of trying to access his memories back. It’d better find another way fast, because that was tiring and embarrassing.
At the end of a boring afternoon that he'd spent training kanjis, after most kids had already been moved out of the hospital, a group of suited government agents came into his room. His first thought was that they were social workers, with news about his family, but it wasn't good to let his expectations grow too high.
He sat up at the side of his bed, and the group brought one of the visitors' portable chairs to his front, letting a stern middle-aged woman sit there at their center.
“Mashiro-kun, right?”, that was how the medical staff had been calling him, because of his hair color*. He nodded. “I'm the president of the HPSC”, she introduced herself. “Any news about your memory?” She sounded demanding.
“Still no.” He rolled his eyes. Always the same questions, always the same answer. His brain wouldn't fix itself just because people kept asking about it.He couldn't avoid sounding bratty. She was not who he was hoping for, again.
“We have a proposal for you. Do you know what pro-heroes are?”, she asked slowly, like he was a little kid.
The image of the Calming Hero, Karasu came to mind.
“The people who saved us from the fire I started”, he was waiting for her to show her point.
She nodded.
“Correct. We think you could be a good one.”
He must have looked very dumb, he couldn't understand how anybody could anybody get to that conclusion after the stunt he had pulled.
“I have a fire quirk, it just hurts people.” His voice sounded wet. Weird.
“Not all pro-heroes are rescuers”, she said with a phony patience. “Sometimes they’re powerful, and scare the bad guys away. Like you did with the bad doctors. You're those kids’ heroes.”
Right, he could be this type of hero. Some of the parents had said that. That he had reunited their families, he’d followed his guts and used his power to defend them. But he knew the truth, and he had just panicked. He didn't deserve any of it.
She continued, “Normally, kids go to a school to become heroes, and you’d need to do some exams that we don't think you'd pass… given your condition.”
He did exams everyday now, nothing new. He could become a hero after getting home.
“The nurses said I'm getting stronger!” he protested. His body was hurt, but his progress was fast. Why was she sending him those mixed signals? Either she believed in him or not.
“You'd also need to remember your formal education, they always have a written test”. His mood faltered.
He could hold a pen, but his handwriting was still wonky. This far he was up to 5th grade math, one or two below his age, had relearned kana to completion and read kanji like a third grader. He didn't remember english, or much of history or geography. How much time would he have to remember all that?
“Your options are: stay in the hospital and hope you can remember your family before they can put you in an orphanage, or come with us.” The orphanage, some of the kids were sent there already. Not him, he needed attention. His attention was tied to his weakness, meaning his fast progress was actually a timing of when he'd get discarded. His family hadn't shown up yet. He'd have a panic attack.
“We’re responsible for the heroes licenses, their documentation, and we can treat you, train you, and support you throughout your hero career”, she concluded.
How could he deny it? Yes, he wanted to be a hero. He couldn't take away the image of that girl, not much older than him, saving lives. More than that, the wish felt as if belonging to his past life. Heroes were also always on tv, so his family would recognize him even if his memory faltered. Fuck, he was getting excited, his feet couldn't stop swinging. Why was he heart beat so fast?
He signed all the papers before reality could bring him down. Happiness made his eyes sting, but he didn't cry. He couldn't, his tear ducts were scarred. At least it would avoid the shame of failing to explain the reason for his feelings.
A helicopter was waiting for them at the hospital’s platform. He was put in the middle seat, which left him slightly disoriented for the hours of traveling. He didn't ask about locations, as he knew he wouldn't be able to point them in a map either way, and he filled them in with what he knew could do. They landed on a country house, with a couple of low buildings spread around.
The house itself wasn't much, only a one floor built in European style, a few decades old. The hall, living room and kitchen were basically all the same room. All furniture and home appliances also seemed to be over a decade old, and were kept down to essential needs, with the exception of a hanging tv set on the ceiling. An entry gave way to a corridor with 3 doors, guarded by a young man sitting on a metal chair.
Smiling, the president guided him through the right door saying “This is going to be your home now, make sure to take the best profit out of it.”
The way she said home made his heart sting, he wasn't ready to give up his actual home yet. He'd remember and figure out a new deal later. It was his best option.
And now he was in a tiny room in a cabin with a small blond boy looking at him with wide eyes all over his personal space. A bird type? His hair looked like soft plumes and his feet didn't touch the ground, as his weight was being held by beautiful red wings. Some of its feathers floated across the room, including behind Mashiro’s own back, preventing him from stepping away.
“Satou-san told me you were the kid from the Jaku fire! Is he right?” the boy asked in a rushed whisper. Their faces were almost touching. His eyes were so golden, they were also slightly bird-like.
He gulped and nodded.
“You're amazing!” he exclaimed, shaking the other boy's shoulders.
Blond Boy abruptly stepped back into the ground, retrieving his feathers into his wings and making them double in size. Maybe his scars scared him like it did with the younger kids.
“Sorry, they're scary, but they're healed.”
“Sorry, I didn't mean to make you scared.”
They said it at the same time. His voice sounded worried, so he really wasn't scared. Why did he think he was?
“I'm not scared," Mashiro said. He didn't think so at least.
“They teach me how to read body language, I'm great at it,” Blond boy said as matter of fact. Then, rather robotically added, “It's okay to be scared, you've been through a traumatic incident. You're safe now.”
A loud laugh escaped his lips, the first he remembered doing so.
“That's just what the heroes said to us that day”, he mocked.
The other boy relaxed.
“You’re laughing, did I do it right?” He noticed he had a different accent. From the south, he thought.
“Not at all.” When the heroes had said it, there was truth to it.
“Sorry, I don't have lessons on rescue yet. I saw it in a textbook”. His head was low, like he was actually disappointed he did it wrong. Strange kid. “It's the first time I see another kid my age after a while… And I really like fire powers, I guess I overreacted”, he completed in a fast murmur.
So, no other kids? Was that normal?
“Huh. It's okay. How old are you anyways, you don't look my age.”
The kid had a round baby face, and now that he wasn't flying it was easy to tell that he was over 10 cm smaller than himself. Around 156 cm.
“13, I'll be 14 in December. You?” He glared anticipatively.
“13” he felt it in his heart, but he could have turned 14 during all of it. “I think. I don't know my birthday.”
The other boy lit up.
“We're the same! What do I call you, have they given you a name yet?”
“The medical staff called me Mashiro, because of my hair.” He pointed at the pure white color.
The blond diverted his eyes from the other’s. Did he do something wrong?
“Oh. I’m Hawks by the way.” Maybe that. Try asking other people's names next time.
“No way that's your name.” He laughed to break the tension.
Hawks messaged one of his feathers between his fingers.
“They said I can't tell people my name. For security. I don't even like it anyways.” Mashiro considered never opening his mouth again, but that’d be rude.
“Okay, Hawks it is.”
He looked at the room he was in. Faded yellow paint on the wall, with no decoration. The only window was a 10 cm vitro close to the ceiling. A large brown wood wardrobe matched a desk as old as the rest of the house's furniture. It held a red alarm clock, a portable lighting and a small pile of books, and was accompanied by a rotating chair. On the other side of the room was a door giving way to another one, maybe a bathroom, and a newish looking metal bunk bed without the bedsheets. Plastic still covered the upper mattress.
“Is it okay if you get the top bed?” Hawks asked. “I don't want my wings hitting the fence.”
He wasn't particularly fond of the height, but he could handle it. To be nice. After all, he was the one new to the room.
“Cool, I didn't have time to get everything ready, so we can make the beds now. I put the clothes and the rest of the stuff they bought you on the left side. They'll probably give you more things later, when you start training and stuff. There's a storeroom at the end of the hallway, but there's still space here for you to put what you brought from the hospital, I don't have many personal things.”
At his stay at the hospital, some families had brought him some clothes and the doctors bought him things to help him gain his skills back: manga magazines, a full pencil case and some books and notebooks. Everything fitted in a shopping bag.
He tore the plastic covering the mattress with his nails and went for a matching set of dotted sheets when he got a glimpse of an old plush doll Hawks was putting in his pillow.
“Don't make fun of me”, Hawks advised seriously, hiding the plush in his pillowcase.
“I wasn't going to”, he rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was another peer, apparently the only one he'd have, hating him. “I thought it looked cute. It's a hero, isn't it? Who's that?”
“You reeeeally forgot everything”, he said in awe, shoving the doll in his face. “Number two hero: Endeavor! He's my favorite. He's the most hardworking, has amazing power control and defeats all the bad guys, so families can live in peace. He has a fire quirk like you.” His wings did a quick flap, and he was off the ground again for a quick moment while speaking.
Something in his mind clicked, only he couldn't put his finger on it yet. He probably had heard about the guy before.
“Cool, I didn't know that there were heroes like me.” After the president’s little discourse he had guessed it, but the confirmation was nice, and talking about Endeavor seemed like a good way to keep on the boy's good side.
“We can't use the computer, but maybe Satou-san can show him to you in the newspaper or on the tv. He's the night guard, the nicest one. The guard outside, Tanaka-san, is more strict, he wouldn't. But Endeavor is the coolest! You’ll see”, Hawks continued happily.
A knock on the door, and a massive guy in an army suit entered before being invited in.
“Hawks-kun, I hope you don't make it a habit of getting late now that you have a friend. You still have your night flight practice today”, the man said paternalistically.
“Yes, sir.” Hawks answered with his head low, half running, half flying past them.
“You should sleep, kid, tomorrow the president starts with you”, the soldier warned Mashiro firmly while leaving.
“Yes, sir”, he said more out of obligation.
He wasn't really sleepy, too excited to get to know his new environment. However, the scrawny snippy man with metal claws sitting outside, the guard Tanaka-san, wasn't up to to letting him explore on his own or to accompany him. He ended up asleep at 7h30 pm with an empty stomach.
The white haired boy was in a traditional Japanese room, with a red-headed man by his side, tall and strong like the ones from the comics. His own small fists, much smaller than they normally were, shot a burst of red flames with a punch.
“Yes, just like that!” the man cheered. “Now just a bit stronger, can you do that?”
“Like this?” His voice sounded higher, surprisingly more familiar. He punched again, with fire engulfing his forearm and gaining blue reflex. Three times as big.
“Your arm!” His father roared. Turquoise eyes all over him. He looked at it, his forearm had acquired a reddish hue from the heat, but it didn't bother him. The man grew angrier. “Look at what you’ve done! Your brother!”
What brother? He didn't mean to. He regretted it. It wasn't the baby’s fault. It wasn't his mom’s fault. He shouldn't have done it.
As if following the intensity of his words, the room trembled. The man shoved him to the side, and like this he was stuck, his legs weighing on him like as anchors would. His heartbeat spiked up, and his breaths narrowed.
“Sorry!” he cried. “Sorry! Sorry, mom. Sorry, Shoto. Sorry!
“It's not enough, he could never be enough!” the man yelled from another room.
“He's only five!” a white-haired woman begged. The man launched a slap across her face.
A toddler was screaming something he couldn't understand. The air was sparse in his lungs, everything was hot, and thinking was hard. Tiny hands were dragging him from his fists, but he couldn't move. That other room was now on fire, completely immersed, and his was going to be next.
He woke up to a red feather flickering his neck. The therapist had told him to breathe slowly and search for five things he could feel. The feather, his hair stuck in his sweaty forehead, a pillow too tall for his taste, a light cotton blanket covering his body and a horizontal metal fence right in front of him. Right, he was sharing a room with that bird boy, they were going to become pro-heroes. His mind somehow found access to some of his old memories, and they weren't nice.
Think about that later, hawks was flying to his bed.
“Is it always hot when you're around?” Hawks asked. Mashiro could feel his blood running to his cheeks. He didn't mean it like that, you creep. He spit something about training his quirk before going to bed.
“Satou-san is here, he said he will put Endeavor’s videos on the TV for us!” His voice was loud and high like a kid’s, and his baucing made the mattress shake. That made his own trembling blend in, and he was thankful that Hawks sent his wings to bring him down, because then he could blame it on the new experience instead.