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The lights were unbearable.
They always were at events like this, painfully blinding, designed to make everything look cleaner than it really is, to polish reality into something easier to sell. It made Touya’s eyes ache, made the back of his neck prickle like he was standing too close to a flame.
The stage was a massive polished and perfect thing. Behind it, a towering screen looped the same headline over and over: “#1 Hero: FrostBurn Hero – Temper”
It pulsed like a heartbeat in his mind.
Ans then there was the crowd.
A dense, restless mass of bodies and noise. Reporters shouting over each other, civilians stretching on their toes just to catch a glimpse, drones hovering overhead like mechanical vultures. Camera flashes popped in rapid bursts, turning the entire space into something jittery and uncomfortable.
Touya stood just offstage, his combat boot beating an irritated rhythm into the ground. His coat was pristine for once swished back and forth with his movements, white and untouched by scorch marks.
Not nerves.
Definitely not nerves.
“You ready?”
He glanced sideways.
One of the handlers stood there with a polished smile that was so obviously fake. He could practically feel how this guy was already treating him like a brand.
He exhaled once through his nose. “Don’t worry,” he said, trying to even his tone, “I won’t set anything on fire.”
Touya rolled his shoulders once, tension shifting beneath his muscles. The edge of the black-and-blue mask hanging around his neck caught the light, glinting briefly.
“Temper! Over here - !”
“Is it true you didn’t accept the rank change at first?”
“How do you respond to concerns about your stability - ?”
“Do you think you’re ready to take on this role at only twenty-six?”
The questions overlapped, piling on top of each other relentlessly. He hadn’t even stepped fully up to the podium yet he was already over this whole ordeal.
“Are you done?” He said gruffly into the mic, his usual snark lost to the stress that had been hanging over his head from the last week.
Hands gripping slightly at the wooden podium he continued.
“I’m not gonna pretend I expected this, or that I planned for it.” He sighed, “Pretty sure nobody plans for this kind of promotion.”
He didn’t want to pretend he wasn’t a bit upset over the fact he wasn’t able to truly surpass All Might before his retirement, but the public didn’t need a hero who was moping. Right now he had to be a beacon of hope, he needed to calm and reassure the people.
Which sucked because out of everyone he knew he was most definitely the worst at that very topic.
‘Why couldn’t it be Natsu?’
He wondered how the old bastard was taking it. Even in All Might's retirement he couldn't be number one. It gave him a bitter sense of satisfaction.
A murmur rolled through the crowd at his momentary pause.
He blinked once, dragging himself back into the moment. The lights felt hotter now, pressing against his skin, making the inside of his collar itch.
He tightened his grip on the podium just enough to ground himself back to the moment.
“Right,” he muttered under his breath, then lifted his head.
“I’m not gonna stand up here and give you some polished speech about how everything’s fine,” he said, voice carrying better now, even if the edge hadn’t left it. “Because it’s not.”
A few reporters leaned forward, their pens pausing mid-scratch while the cameras leaned in.
Touya exhaled slowly through his nose.
“I got this rank because our last Number One isn’t able to be here anymore,” he continued. “And whether you call that retirement or not, it doesn’t change the result.”
His jaw shifted, just slightly.
“He was better at this than me. At this part.” He gestured vaguely at the stage, the lights, the crowd, making no attempt to soften it.
Another ripple through the crowd.
“But I don’t think that’s the part that actually matters,” he added. “What matters is what happens when something goes wrong.”
His gaze swept over them. Cameras, civilians, workers and a few other heroes lingering at the edges like shadows pretending to be helpful.
“What matters is who shows up when things aren’t controlled, when they’re dirty, when they aren’t,” he flicked his fingers slightly, “Good for headlines.”
“I’ve been doing that job for a while now,” he said. “Same as a lot of other heroes you don’t see on that screen.”
Behind him, the headline kept looping: #1 Hero, FrostBurn Hero – Temper.
He didn’t want to look back at it.
“And I’m gonna keep doing it,” he went on. “With or without the title.”
A reporter shoved forward, voice cutting through the rest of the crowd, “Then what does being Number one mean to you?”
Touya’s eyes flicked to them, for a second, something raw crossed his expression. “It means people listen now,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his gloved hand. “And that’s useful.”
The bluntness makes people listen better than sugarcoating things, even if people will probably scorn him later for it.
“I don’t care about being the face of anything,” he went on. “I care about what I can actually do with this position.”
His fingers tapped once, twice, against the podium, a restless habit from childhood resurfacing. “So here’s what I’m gonna say, since everyone’s watching.”
He leaned forward just slightly.
“If something’s wrong, I’m not gonna ignore it just because it’s inconvenient. And I’m not gonna pretend everything’s working when it isn’t.”
Somewhere in the crowd, a drone camera drifted closer, lens focusing in tight on his face.
“You can call that unstable if you want,” he added, almost offhandedly. A faint, humorless smirk tugged at his mouth.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
A few nervous laughs floated through the crowd before being quickly swallowed.
He straightened. “That’s it.”
Then the questions started firing off once again.
“Temper - are you planning to challenge the commission - ?!”
“Is that a threat - ?!”
“Do you believe the system is failing - ?!”
“What would All Might think of this - ?!”
His shoulders tensed at the last one but he didn’t turn back, didn’t bother to dignify that with an answer. He stepped away from the podium.
The handler from earlier was already moving toward him, smile back in place like it had never left.
“That was bold,” he said carefully. “We might want to clarify a few - ”
Touya walked past him, his coat bellowing faintly behind him, still pristine.
Behind him, the screen kept looping.
—
Beer bottles clanked against the glass table of Hawks’ penthouse rooftop. The city stretched out beneath them, all glittering lights and distant sirens. Music played low somewhere behind them but it was mostly drowned out by laughter, the scrape of chairs, the occasional thud of boots on tile.
Five heroes sat around the table.
Hawks leaned back in his chair like he owned the night itself, wings half-spread behind him, one feather lazily nudging an empty bottle toward the center of the table.
“Well,” he drawled, glancing at Touya, “that was a spectacle if I've ever seen one."
Mirko snorted into her drink.
“That's one way to put it,” she kicked her boots up onto the table without hesitation. “You basically told the entire commission to screw off on live TV.”
Touya scoffed, dropping into his seat like the tension from earlier was finally catching up to him all at once and ending in one big long exhale.
“Yeah, real strategic move,” he snorted, grabbing a bottle and taking a long swig. “I’m sure it’ll go over great with the media.”
“Loosen up,” Hawks spun his bottle lazily with a feather. “Number One,” he tried to lighten the mood, though grinning slightly.
Touya groaned immediately, head lulling over the back of the back of his chair, white hair fluttering slightly in the wind. “Don’t even.”
“Oh, I’m absolutely going to,” Hawks grinned. “You’re the bossman now. I gotta start acting like it.”
“Oh yeah?” Touya shot back, sitting up again. “Well then I’m demoting you first.”
“Wow. Abuse of power already,” Hawks said, hand to his chest. “We love to see it.”
Mirko threw an arm over his shoulders and laughed, “who would’ve guessed the broody emo kid in the back row makes it to Number One?”
Touya was about to growl something back to her face but was cut off by another voice joining the conversation.
“Lay off him Rumi,” Hana said, leaning over the table slightly, “You know he’s sensitive.” She teased, joining the apparent war against his sanity.
His head whipped to her, “I am not sensitive,” but the heat on his face betrayed him.
Tenko snorted from beside his sister, “Right, so the photos I have of you crying at Natsuo and Fuyumi’s graduations are AI?”
“You said you deleted those,” Touya half-hissed half-squawked at him.
Tenko leaned back in his chair, all smug satisfaction, tapping the side of his phone against the table like a threat he didn’t even need to follow through on. “I said I might,” he corrected. “Big difference.”
Hana snickered, hiding her grin behind her glass. “You should’ve seen him,” she added, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Full-on ugly crying. Snot and everything.”
“I was not - ” Touya started, then cut himself off with a sharp click of his teeth, “You’re both dead to me, you know that?”
Mirko barked out a laugh, loud and unrestrained. “Nah, I’m with them on this. That’s fuckin’ hillarious.”
“Please tell me you brought receipts,” Hawks chimed in immediately, leaning forward now, interest piqued. His feathers perked up like they were equally invested.
Tenko grinned wider. “Oh, I absolutely did.”
Touya shot up halfway out of his chair. “Don’t you - ”
Tenko tilted his phone, and for half a second — just a glimpse — there it was.
Touya, a few years younger, face scrunched, eyes red, Hugging Fuyumi like the world was ending while younger Natsou and Hana laughed in the background.
“I - that’s our Number One?” Hawks choked out between laughs, nearly knocking his chair back. “That’s the symbol of strength right there?”
Mirko was doubled over, fist hitting the table. “Man’s out here threatening the system by day and crying at graduations by night - ”
“Give me that - !” Touya lunged, but Tenko was already out of reach, chair scraping loudly as he stood up and back a few steps.
Mirko was still laughing but had enough mind to grab the back of Touya’s jacket to stop him from tackling their other friend. “Alright alright. Enough of that before one of you gets pushed off the roof.”
Touya pointed at him but didn’t fight hard and sat back down. “You’re the first one I’m freezing when my villain arc starts.”
“You’ve been threatening that since we were fifteen,” Hana said, shaking her head.
“And yet here I am, still merciful.”
Mirko kicked his chair lightly. “Hey, speaking of icicle one and icicle two, where are they? I thought they’d be celebrating with us?”
Touya took another sip of his drink. “They’re working a mission over in Kyoto, they’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Damn,” Hawks said, glancing at his phone like he might magically summon them. “Imagine missing this historic moment.”
“Yeah,” Tenko added, still grinning at what he’d caused, “the night Himura Touya’s reputation died.”
“My reputation is fine,” Touya shot back immediately.
Hana raised a brow. “You tried to tackle Tenko over baby photos literally five seconds ago.”
“It was contained panic,” Touya corrected, jabbing a finger at her.
Mirko snorted. “Real reassuring, Number One. ‘Don’t worry civilians, my breakdowns are controlled.’”
Hawks let out a low whistle, rocking his chair back on two legs. “Man, I gotta say. this is not what I pictured when they said ‘celebrating the new Number One.’”
“What, you wanted speeches?” Touya scoffed.
“I wanted dignity,” Hawks said.
Tenko immediately leaned over and grabbed Hawks’ phone from the table.
“Hey - ”
Tenko was already swiping, then turning the screen around with a wicked grin. “We’re doing dignity now? Cool. Let’s talk about your ‘early career phase.’”
Touya leaned in already knowing what would be awaiting him.
On the screen was a photo of Hawks, younger, mid-flight, except he wasn’t flying so much as falling, wings flared in complete panic, face caught in a perfect expression of “this was a mistake.”
“Oh my god—” Mirko wheezed, grabbing the phone straight out of Tenko’s hands. “Is that you?!”
“You kissed the pavement,” Touya said, mood flipping instantly. “Was that your first kiss too?”
Hawks crossed his arms, feathers puffing defensively. “No.”
Touya didn’t even hesitate. “So the pavement was your second choice?”
Tenko made a choking noise, immediately losing his mind again. Hana nearly spit out her drink, turning away as her shoulders shook with laughter.
Mirko slammed her hand on the table as she wheezed for breath. “You walked right into that one, bird brain.”
Hawks clicked his tongue, but there was a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth now despite himself. One of his feathers flicked out and snatched his phone back from Mirko’s grip mid-laugh.
“Alright, real funny,” he muttered, inspecting the screen like it had personally betrayed him. “You all done digging up ancient history, or should I start pulling files too?”
That got a collective pause.
Touya narrowed his eyes slightly. “You don’t have anything on me that isn’t already public record.”
Hawks glanced up, face completely smug. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
Tenko leaned forward immediately. “Oh you definitely have something.”
Hana pointed across the table. “Yeah, no way you said that with nothing to back it up.”
Touya sat up straighter, eyes locked on Hawks now. “Try it, chicken.”
Hawks held his gaze for a second longer, then leaned back again, casual as ever. “Nah.”
A chorus of groans erupted instantly.
“BOOO - ”
“You’re the worst kind of tease.”
“Coward.”
Hawks lifted a hand lazily. “Hey, I’m exercising restraint. New management and all that.” He tipped his chin toward Touya. “Gotta respect the boss, right?”
The wind picked up a little, cooler now as it carried the distant hum of the city, sirens threading through traffic, the low thrum of life continuing whether they sat up here or not.
Mirko stretched her back over the chair, “Tomorrow we start making problems for the people who deserve it, yeah?”
Touya huffed a quiet laugh. “That sounds about right.”
Hawks lifted his bottle, giving Touya a look. “To Number One, whether he likes it or not.”
Touya stared at them for half a second, then, with a small shake of his head he lifted his bottle too.
“Yeah, okay”