Chapter Text
25 Years Earlier
The wailing of a baby echoes through the expansive halls of the Fire Nation Palace. The screams mark the birth of a king’s child.
An heir to the throne.
Enji Todoroki sits by his wife’s bed, watching her hold their child in loving arms and whispering soothing words that the newborn has yet to understand. Rei looks up to him with soft grey eyes, her silver hair, which used to be short up to her chin, has grown longer since their marriage. “What name have you chosen for him?” she asks, holding the child out for her husband.
The king looks down at the baby, swaddled and held in the caring hands of the queen. Right now, he does not feel like a high royal, more like a human brought off his pedestal, and down to earth. This is the prince, his heir, his son.
Enji takes a confident breath and takes hold of his son. “His name will be Prince Touya Todoroki, heir to the Fire Nation throne,” he says at last, and Rei smiles. “Our boy, Touya,” she tests the name on her tongue, and the sight of their bundle of joy brings a fond smile to her face. “I like it.”
A week before his thirteenth birthday, Prince Touya would die.
Present Day
Hawks knew stealth. And he knew that the best way to stay hidden was to be in plain sight, inconspicuous.
And that's why he easily found his next target, a pickpocket with a hood up and staying low. He was standing out, no doubt the man was a rookie. The crowd was too distracted to notice but aware enough to avoid the suspicious looking man.
Amateurs. Easy pickings for Hawks. He wasn’t so kind.
Not that he was any better, but at least he didn’t steal from the unaware struggling single parents in the middle of the market. Hawks may as well be doing this village a favour.
He followed the man until he reached a more secluded place, before swiftly pushing him into an alleyway and up against the walls. His hands fisted his collar and held his back to the bricks, forcing the air from his lungs as he coughed and sputtered.
“Who de fuck are ye?” he asks, spooked and attempting to look intimidating. Hawks was having none of it, pulling him forward before slamming him on the wall again. A few coins clattered out of his greedy pockets and he winced, understanding he was caught. “What’re ye gonna do? Hand me over to de guards?” he spat threateningly.
Hawks’ gaze darkened, and he readjusted his grip to one hand, using his now free hand to pull a knife on him. The blade pressed against his throat. “Empty your pockets,” he demanded, grip tightening slightly on the handle. The pickpocket swallowed hard and his shaky hands dug into his pockets, with coins and coin bags dropping to the dirt.
“Dere, ye can have de money,” the man said, voice wavering. “Don’t hurt me,” he whispered pleadingly. Hawks’ eyes narrowed and he pressed the blade closer for a few seconds, earning a frightened gasp from him. “You won’t steal anymore, 'kay?” Hawks growled.
The man nodded slowly, as to not scratch himself on the knife. “A-Aye,” he stuttered. The moment Hawks withdrew the knife, the pickpocket ran for his life. No doubt he would call guards over soon, he had to get out of there quickly.
Hawks put the knife away and looked down at the money, flicking his wrist and watching as the air he manipulated floated the coins into his knapsack. He could hear the guards in their Earth Kingdom chainmail rushing towards the dead-end alley.
“He was over dere, on yer right!” the pickpocket yelled. Hawks threw his cowl up and smirked, pushing the air around him down and launching himself up to the roof, careful and calculated, as he always was.
The guards came around the corner a second later, but Hawks was already long gone. Another successful day at work, and by work that of course meant his little Robin Hood-esque side gig.
Not that that man was rich by any means, or that Hawks was giving this money to the less fortunate.
Didn’t he himself count as less fortunate in a way? He didn’t even own a house.
At least he got a criminal off the streets for a little,
…by being a criminal himself.
Hawks left this village for now, they would be on high alert after his quick cash grab and searching the area. He had set up his little campsite about a kilometre down the path and into the woods by a river, they’d never find him.
He was counting the coins and reorganizing the bags when he caught sight of a conflict in the middle of the path. A hooded man was being beaten by a gang of highwaymen, yelling curses as one accomplice searched his bag, going through his minimal stuff.
Hawks swore he heard them call the grovelling man a monster.
“Hey!” he yells, getting their attention. The robbers look back at him, frozen once they realized they were caught. The man on the ground didn’t get up.
“Get runnin’ kid, or we’ll take your stuff too,” one man with a patchy unkept beard roared, demonstrating his earth-bending with one hand raising fist-sized rocks from the side of the forest. His two partners stop what they’re doing, drawing daggers and spitting.
Hawks grimaces at the sight. “Can you let that innocent man go? I’m sure he’s done nothing to deserve this treatment,” he raised his hands peacefully, and one of the men holding daggers laughs.
“He ain’t, he scared the kids in the last village with his ugly mug. We've been trailin’ him since to teach ‘im a lesson.” The man on the ground shifts uncomfortably, holding his side. Hawks notices a red patch swelling up in his palm.
“Listen guys…” he begins, approaching them slowly. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough? Look at the guy,” he lifts his palm towards the bandits, who turn dumbly.
The moment they do, Hawks picks an earth-bended stone out of the air, clocking the earthbender in the head. He swiftly kicks out to the closest man, knocking the dagger out of his arm, then upper-punching right into his solar plexus.
The third guy stands in shock as he catches his friend, looking between the unconscious bender on the ground and his friend coughing in his arms. Hawks bends down to pick up the dagger he dropped, examining it.
“It’s dull,” he comments, tossing it over, and the two men dodge as it stabs into the dirt between them. “Get going, and leave the stuff you took.”
Within moments, they empty their pockets of whatever stuff they had tried to rob this poor man of, grabbing their friend and running off without a word.
Hawks watches them flee until they’re out of sight. With a sigh, he turns around to the man doubled over in the dirt. “Oi,” he says, boredom lacing his tone as if he hadn’t just scared his tormentors shitless. “Hey, you can talk, can’t you?”
The man shifts again, shakily standing up. His entire palm is blood-stained and red leaks from the sides. “Are you stabbed?” he asked calmly.
“...no,” the mysterious man finally answers, keeping his head down. Hawks can see black hair peeking from the hood of his forest-green cloak. Underneath, he wears a red version of typical Earth Kingdom clothing.
“I’m Hawks, you?”
“Dabi.”
Hawks crosses his arms, leaning on his hip. “Why’d you scare those kids, Dabi? Not very nice,” he asks, recalling what the men had said. Instead of answering, Dabi looks up at him, his hood falling and revealing his face.
It was scarred beyond comprehension. His entire lower jaw up to his ear, and two semi-circles under his eyes were a rough, unnatural deep purple, likely from horrid burns. The skin was held together by metallic surgical staples he had only ever seen in the most advanced hospitals around the United Republic of Nations.
“Does this answer your question?” His voice is bitter, as if expected Hawks to back away. Instead, he holds his ground, examining how the scarring goes down his neck and along what is visible of the collarbone. It goes down his arms until reaching his wrists, staples creating a ring around them.
“Yes,” Hawks breathes in astonishment.
Dabi’s brows furrow in slight confusion. “You don’t seem as disgusted as you should be,” he murmurs, and there's a hint of insecurity and distrust in his voice. “Why should I be disgusted?” Hawks asks, his voice firm and challenging. “Everyone has scars.”
“Sure,” Dabi scoffs, turning away to grab his small travel bag.
Was that measly thing filled with his only belongings? Getting a peek, Hawks could see it was all medical items and a small sack of whatever food he had.
“You’re living on that?!” Hawks gasped, and Dabi simply shakes his head, searching through his bag with his free hand, the other shaking against his torso. “Far from it. I’m just surviving, but even then…” he groans as he looks down at his blood-stained hand. He seems to freeze on the spot.
Hawks crouches down, making himself look small and approachable. “Do you need help?”
“No. Go away,” Dabi grunts bluntly.
Hawks blinked a few times in surprise. No one ever said no to him, considering his natural charm and handsome face. Dabi shuffles through his bag again, movements becoming increasingly sloppy as he grabs a packet of staples. The stamp reads Abbey Local Hospital .
A city from the United Republic of Nations, so he guessed correctly.
How does this guy have high-grade medical staples from the URN?
Dabi glares at Hawks, and he backs up to give him space, watching as the man lifted his shirt just enough to see the wound. His scars apparently ran all across his body, and his wound was a tear in the seam, staples having come loose and blood seeping from the ripped line between healthy and rough skin.
He picked out the old ones, biting on his own shirt to keep it up, and simultaneously muffling his groans. “Are you sure you don’t need help?” Hawks speaks, but the scarred man only ignores him, beginning to take some new ones out and clipping them in.
The process looks horrifically painful, and Hawks can only wonder how he had gotten into such a state, where he had nearly constant open wounds. Dabi finished, huffing as he dropped the blood-stained bag onto his lap.
Hawks reaches inside, grabbing the bandages sitting organized on the top. “Let me help, I can get the wrap tight,” he insists, and with his mouth full of shirt, Dabi can’t refuse. The blonde shuffles over behind him, taking off the cloak and placing it on the side, adjusting Dabi’s shirt up so he can see more.
He takes this moment to look at the scars which his lean body adorns. He unfurls the bandages and wraps his arms around Dabi, pressing the cloth into his torso and holding one end in place while he wraps the other around tightly. He cuts it off with a rip and ties off the ends, checking for instability before he’s satisfied.
“Thank you…” Dabi whispers reluctantly. At least the guy had some manners. Hawks stood up, grabbing his flask of water to clean the blood off. He turns to Dabi, offering it up. The scarred man stares hesitantly, before reaching out his hands. Hawks pours the water with a thin trickle, and he washes the blood off swiftly.
Hawks shuts the flask, clipping it back to the side of his backpack. “Which way you headed?” He asks, watching as Dabi stretches slowly and stands up, lifting his bag over his shoulder with careful movements.
“I don’t know,” he mumbles. Hawks frowns, and he hopes the pity in his gaze isn’t apparent. This poor man was so very lost.
“I’m heading to Full Moon Bay,” he said. “Trying to get to Ba Sing Se?” Dabi correctly assumes, and Hawks nods. “Yup, wanna come with? They have good hospitals there if you need more stuff. It’s a big city, so there’ll be less judgement about your appearance and stuff–”
“Ok.”
Hawks is almost surprised he answered so easily. “Ok? I mean, that’s great. Let’s go,” he stammers, forcing a friendly grin on his face. Full Moon Bay was a dock, historically used to bring people away from the Earth Kingdom mainland and over the river to the great walled city of Ba Sing Se. Now, it was the main hub for immigration and travel in and out of the capital.
He just hopes he can get them past the Dai Li Enforcement Commission.