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Flight symbolizing freedom for Pre-Quirk society is an aspect of thought that Keigo often ponders on nights such as this. A plethora of amazing heroes have graduated from UA at this point, the iconic “Class 1A” leading the charge in both Japan and worldwide. It’s because of their hard work and care that Keigo can even have nights like these. He blocked off his calendar, activated his vacation responder for his email, and has all communications currently being forwarded to his amazing executive assistant. He’d never expected to inherit the Commission’s top role of President, yet here he is.
The shockingly cold caress of the wind stops all thoughts. He takes a moment to lift his head to the night sky and close his eyes. This sensation is nothing like flying, but he’ll always appreciate it.
Keigo’s always had a sort of love-hate relationship with his wings. Curling up within them for warmth and comfort as a child is always a blip of a fond memory within his tumultuous childhood. But being worked hard until his bones grew weary and his slow realization that those same wings he used as comfort and protection had ensnared him in another web of abuse.
Flight meant freedom for most, yet he never had the courage when he was young to spread them and take flight. Once his custody was transferred to the Commission his time was spent training, being watched by handlers, and getting various bionic trackers implanted in his body. With his every move monitored, he once again didn’t have the courage to stray from his expectations, let alone take detours to places in Japan he wanted to visit. He takes a deep breath and thinks back to the day he woke up in the hospital room; the war over and won, feelings of victory mixed with feelings of uneasiness over knowing his wings were truly gone and unsalvageable. Losing his wings in the war was an outcome he considered, but that didn’t make his tangle of emotions that day in the hospital any easier to unwind. And secretly, he still doesn’t know how to feel about it.