synopsis: Congratulations! In the summer months of your final year of university, you receive an extremely rare offer to intern at one of the top hero agencies in Japan. Your excitement is curbed, however, when you learn that it’s from the agency of Hawks, the enigmatic hero whom you may or may not have a deep and complicated history with.
genre: childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers
tags: childhood friends to lovers, canon compliant, hawks, Keigo Takami, slow burn, fluff and angst, reader is Quirkless, reader is a surfer/photographer, original male characters, original female characters
Chapter 5: About You
“Well, that’s good,” Hawks says in a voice he hopes comes off as very casual. “You can do a lot better than him. You deserve someone who truly appreciates you, Y/n.”
Something in Hawks’ tone makes you stop dead in your tracks. You turn to face him, raising your eyebrow quizzically and crossing your arms, half amused and half suspicious. “What do you care, hero?”
He meets your gaze, his expression unreadable. “Is that all I am to you?”
The rest of your first week at Hawks’ Agency passes by in a blur. You don’t see Keigo much, both of you too preoccupied with your responsibilities to spare a moment for yourselves, much less to casually cross paths and linger in each other’s presence under some innocuous false pretense. It seems as though the blond hero is always out on a mission, only flitting back into the building to deliver reports before he’s off again to complete his next assignment. You sometimes catch sight of him from a distance through the glass door of the media office, talking to Watanabe with a focused look on his face and a can of sweetened coffee in hand. His work carries on late into the night, leaving your balcony dolefully empty of red feathers.
You, on the other hand, have your plate full photographing the other heroes and sidekicks of the agency out on their daily patrols and missions. Your days are spent scurrying around the city with Taki and Kaia to document various acts of heroism and public service as they occur. And at night, you spend hours processing the photos before sending them off to be published.
Towards the end of the week, as you strain your eyes against the glare of your laptop while editing the contrast levels in a photo of Mirko apprehending a car thief (“Make sure you get my quads in the shot, Y/n!”), you find yourself murmuring under your breath constant reminders of what a good career opportunity this internship is.
“It’s a top hero agency Y/n, it’s not supposed to be easy. You can handle the workload…”
Fortunately, a chance to kick back and forget your internship-related stress arrives in the form of a text from your good friend Kiyomi inviting you to her birthday party. You’ve been friends since your days in the Business course at UA High, and stayed inseparable when you attended the same university. She’s a fashion student currently interning at a celebrity designer’s atelier, and Fukuoka is her hometown.
You’re walking from the media office to the elevators, intent on heading to the cafeteria and refueling with what little time is left of your lunch break, when your phone buzzes with a notification. After pressing the button to call for an elevator, you check your phone.
kiyomi: babes
kiyomi: u better come to my bday party this weekend
kiyomi: also i miss you;( you’re finally in my city and we haven’t seen each other yet!
You hear the elevator doors part and walk in, eyes fixed on your screen as you type out a reply.
Y/n: miss u more
Y/n: this internship is kicking my ass
Y/n: but I’ll see you on sat <3
“Hmm. You must be working hard if you’re only heading to lunch now, Surfer Girl.”
Startled by the familiar voice, you glance up to discover that you’re alone in the elevator with Hawks, his head tilted as he leans back against the wall and observes you with interest. Today he’s foregone the thick jacket of his hero uniform, revealing a black compression shirt underneath: the picture of relaxed danger. Faint shadows beneath his golden eyes hint at a prolonged lack of proper sleep. The corners of your lips curve upwards slowly. You wonder how you missed his presence when practically half the space in the elevator is being taken up by his vivid red wings.
“Hey,” you say. “I just lost track of time processing photos from this morning’s patrol. What are you up to?”
“I’m headed to the archives. There are some records I need to look into for a case I’m working on. They’ll either confirm some suspicions I have, or land me back on square one.” His fluffy brows knit together, deep in thought.
You hum. “Sounds serious.”
His gaze flits back to you and his face relaxes into a teasing smirk. “Not as serious as you nearly skipping meals to keep on working.”
“Oh please, I’ll live! And you’re one to talk, Feathers. I bet your overworked ass knows a thing or two about skipping meals —and rest— to finish a job.”
“The habits of my overworked ass don’t excuse yours, thank you very much,” he quips, leaning towards you teasingly.
“Hypocrite,” you chide, indignant, as Hawks’ low chuckles fill the elevator. He’s clearly enjoying pushing your buttons.
Ding. The elevator doors begin to open onto the cafeteria at the same moment an idea falls into your head. Quickly, you rummage inside your bag for the unopened can of coffee that you’d been planning to enjoy later that day. You chose the exact brand and flavor that you often see Hawks chugging around the agency, presuming that it must be pretty damn good if he stuck to it so religiously.
“Here, I noticed you liked these.” You thrust the beverage into his hands and step out through the doors before he can react. “Coffee is great, but don’t forget to sleep when you can, Feathers!”
Glancing back over your shoulder, you catch sight of him staring dumbfounded at the coffee, then at you, before the elevator doors shut in his face. His stunned expression makes you chuckle. Then the scent of food steals your attention away, and you speed off to make the most of your remaining lunch break.
You don’t think much of your encounter with Hawks in the elevator until the following afternoon, when you once again stay behind in the media office as Taki and Kaia head to lunch in the cafeteria.
As you continue to edit photos from that morning, biting your lip in concentration, you hear a small tapping sound. Your eyes dart up, and you spot a red feather floating in midair on the other side of the office’s glass door. Dangling from its quill end is a takeout bag. Surprised, you scramble to your feet and let it in. The little visitor glides in gracefully and sets the bag on your desk. Then it bobs up to you, tickles your nose lightly, and zips out the door before you can so much as move a muscle.
“What the…?” you say wonderingly.
The heavenly scent of the contents of the bag piques your curiosity. You open it to find a steaming box of chicken with the following Post-It note stuck on its lid:
“Don’t forget to take a full break. Boss’s orders! Hope you still like karaage.”
Below, a doodle of a cartoon bird with familiar markings around his eyes leaves you little doubt about who the sender is, as if the feather wasn’t enough.
“Seriously, he didn’t have to do this,” you mutter, your face warming.
It’s the most delicious karaage you’ve ever tasted, crispy and flavorful with a side of perfectly cooked rice. And if you’re in an unusually good mood when your coworkers return, humming silly songs that make Kaia hum along while Taki sighs and dons his earphones, well, that can just as easily be attributed to the lovely summer weather as to anything else.
~~~
On Saturday night, you slip into a comfortable pair of jeans and a flattering top, brush mascara onto your lashes, and dab on some lipstick. Pulling out your phone, you shoot Taki a quick text:
Y/n: ready to leave for Kiyomi’s party?
Taki: y/n i’m so sorry
Taki: but something i ate is trying to kill me from the inside
Taki: my stomach hurts like a bitch
Y/n: oh no, do u need anything?
Taki: nah i’m good thanks, i have what i need
Y/n: okk
Y/n: wish me luck now that i’m going alone
Taki is typing…
Taki: Ask Hawks to go with you
Taki: i bet he would
Y/n: yeah right💀
Y/n: i’m pretty sure he’s on patrol anyway lol
You kick your shoes on, check your reflection one last time in the mirror, then head out.
~~~
“Baaabe!” Kiyomi squeals almost the second you enter the house. “M’ so glad you could make it!”
She tumbles into your arms and you can smell the tequila she’s been drinking. Her long black hair is tied back in a bow, with her bangs framing her face neatly.
“Of course,” you smile as you offer her your gift. “Happy birthday!”
“Oh my god, my favorite cookies, thank you! You’re the best.” She leads you through the crowded kitchen, where she places the box of cookies in the pantry off to the side, then pulls you into the living room where a DJ is spinning. People are milling about, dancing and talking.
Kiyomi raises her voice over the music. “I’m so glad you’re in my city this summer. We should grab brunch sometime. I know this cafe you’d really like.”
“I’d love to,” you say, waving and smiling at a few friends from across the room. “I just don’t have much free time, what with the internship and everything.”
“At Hawks’ agency right?” Kiyomi’s eyes light up when you nod. “Jackpot! Have you ever talked to Hawks?”
“Yes, I have. He’s cool.”
“Cool?! Girl, he’s hot! So many of the celebrity clients who come through the designer atelier won’t shut up about him, and I don’t blame them.” You laugh at Kiyomi’s tipsy words. She continues, leaning in conspiratorially, “Though they say he’s the kind of guy who can get along with everyone, but is hard to get to know on a deeper level. Like, an emotional tease.”
You raise an eyebrow, none too familiar with the elusive behavior she’s describing. Part of you wants to joke that the hard part isn’t getting the winged hero to open up, it’s getting him to shut up once he has. In the end, you decide against it, smiling as you shrug.
“Let’s dance!” You take her hand and pull her into the center of the room as a Daft Punk mix comes on.
A few songs (and sangrias) later, you get the feeling that somebody is watching you. You glance over your shoulder. Sure enough, it’s none other than your ex-boyfriend. He’s leaning on the doorway across the room, meeting your eyes uncertainly. Kiyomi follows your gaze, then mutters in your ear, “Ugh, one of our mutual friends probably brought him along.”
You shrug it off and keep dancing with your girls. It’s hard to feel bothered about anything in particular when one of your favorite songs is bumping on the speakers. The rhythm of the beat and the alcohol coursing through your veins are warming your body pleasantly. Your usually busy mind relaxes. So much so that the time escapes you, and when you think to check your phone, it’s a quarter to one. The last bus is in 20 minutes, and you still have to walk to your stop.
After a few hurried goodbyes, you step out of the house, the door swinging shut behind you and muffling the booming music and loud laughter of the party. You’re halfway down the porch steps, already looking forward to curling up in your warm, cozy bed, when the door swings open again and a familiar male voice calls out to you.
“Y/n, wait!”
Shoulders tensing, you turn around to face your ex. “Oh. Hey.”
He approaches you, a slightly pouty look on his face. “Are you leaving already?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty tired.”
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, can I walk you to your stop?”
“I’m alright, thanks.”
It’s not like his offer surprises you. Ever since you ended things with him last year, he has made every excuse to show up on your radar. It‘s as if he’s always waiting for you to notice him. Ironic, considering how you had never felt appreciated during your relationship, and had constantly caught him ogling at other women. You suppose he’s just one of those guys who don’t know what they want, and simply think they want what they can’t have. Which is now you.
He lifts his hands placatingly, “Look, I know what you’re thinking. And I’m not even gonna try to defend myself. I wasn’t a great boyfriend to you back then, and I’ve told you I’m sorry. But I’m also just worried about you right now. It doesn’t feel right to let you walk alone at night.”
You shrug. “Fine. My stop’s not that far anyway.”
His face lights up with a smile —which vanishes almost immediately when a voice chimes in behind you, “Actually, that won’t be necessary.”
You inhale the familiar scent of spicy, woody cologne and spin around. Hawks is standing in the driveway with his hands in his pockets, his towering red wings folded at his sides and his gaze fixed on your ex-boyfriend.
“Hawks? What are you doing here?” You gasp.
Hawks’ eyes flicker to you. He smiles cheerily, too cheerily. “Heya, Y/n. You look lovely. I was finishing up my patrol when I saw you leaving your party. If you’re done here, I might as well give you a ride back to our apartment.”
Our apartment?! What is this guy on? Your ex’s eyes widen as you choke.
“I’m staying at his agency’s housing for my internship,” you hastily explain.
“Yeah, we basically live together,” Hawks laughs breezily.
You shoot him an incredulous look. He’s definitely enjoying messing with your ex. The poor guy can do nothing but stare at Hawks in shock. Then he shrugs his shoulders defeatedly. Turning back to reenter the house, he says, “Okay then. See you around, Y/n.”
As the door closes behind him, you swear you hear Hawks scoff.
You stand together in the buzzing light of the porch. You’re still caught off guard by your childhood friend's sudden appearance, and your face feels hot for reasons you don’t want to examine too closely. He clears his throat.
“Well,” he says, spreading his wings and offering you his arm, “Shall we get going?”
“Actually, can we walk for a bit? I had a few drinks and I don’t wanna throw up on you mid-flight,” you explain sheepishly.
“I can fly gently too, you know. But sure.” He gives you a small smile and you head off down the road, strolling side by side.
The night is peaceful, the sounds of the birthday party gradually fading into the distance, and a faint breeze carries along the refreshing scent of pine. You search uncertainly for something to say to him. You feel flustered that he’s once again gone out of his way to help you, and don’t know whether to tell him off or thank him for inconveniencing himself on your behalf.
“Thanks for the karaage the other day, it was delicious,” you say eventually.
Grinning, he replies, “Best takeout in town. I used to order from them almost every single night, back when I’d just started the agency.”
“I totally get why… Hey, were you really patrolling the area tonight?” You ask.
“Now why would I lie about that?” There’s a hint of playfulness in his voice; he knows what you’re implying.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just making sure I don’t have a big bird flapping around and stalking me wherever I go,” you respond, grinning.
He gasps in mock offense, “Flapping around? What am I, a chicken? I’d say I’m more of the soaring or gliding type! But no, I wasn’t stalking you. Just saving you from some idiot, it seems.”
“You’re my hero.” Under the dim street lights, you don’t catch the way his face glows at this. “But I could have handled that, no problem.”
“Did you want to walk with him? I caught something about him being a bad boyfriend to you.”
You grimace. “Yes, he was, but I’ve been over him for a while. Ever since I dumped him, actually.”
“Well, that’s good,” Hawks says in a voice he hopes comes off as very casual. “You can do a lot better than him. You deserve someone who truly appreciates you, Y/n.”
Something in Hawks’ tone makes you stop dead in your tracks. You turn to face him, raising your eyebrow quizzically and crossing your arms, half amused and half suspicious. “What do you care, hero?”
He meets your gaze, his expression unreadable. “Is that all I am to you?”
The sudden seriousness of his tone surprises you, and puts you on the defense. “What else do I call somebody who stopped being my friend and ghosted me for years, ‘for my own good’?”
He stares down at you for the space of a few heartbeats, his marked avian eyes unblinking. You wonder if you’ve hit a nerve. Finally, he says quietly, “I never stopped thinking we were friends. I just couldn’t contact you.”
He takes a slow step closer and continues.
“There were —and are— so many things I wanted to tell you. For years, I was talking to you in my head. When I had a particularly rough day, when something funny or stupid would happen, when I found a really great song, or when I’d fly over the sea and it would catch the sunlight in just the way that you liked, I’d practice telling you all about it. You… the one person who really knew me before I was even a hero.”
His eyes burn into yours, and you can’t help but notice how, even now, in the middle of the night with nothing except the moon, the stars, and the weak streetlights illuminating them, his irises are an undeniable, deep gold.
You shiver, from the night air and something else.
He blinks, then pulls off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. “You’re cold, and it’s getting late. Let me fly you home, please.”
He offers you his hand once more. This time you take it, finding it difficult to look into his eyes as you allow him to carry you into the sky.
You keep your gaze averted for most of the journey home, choosing to focus on the city lights twinkling in and out of view beneath you, tiny ribbons of gold and neon indicating the places where streets and highways lie. You’re intensely aware of the warmth emanating from Hawks as he carries you, bridal style, across the night. You have to wrap your arms around his shoulders to secure yourself, and from this proximity you can see the contours of his exposed biceps and the way his Adam’s apple shifts every time he swallows. His cologne mixed with his breath must be going to your head too, making you think of cinnamon and coffee and bonfires.
Furtively, you sneak a glance at his expression. He’s focused on flying, but then you lock eyes, and he gives you a small, sad smile that makes your heart twinge.
A few years ago, Hawks had single-handedly taken down one of Japan’s most notorious villain gangs. The gang had overthrown a local district’s administration and, on top of that, held the employees hostage, demanding a ridiculous sum of money in exchange for their release. The whole nation had been tuned into the live broadcast of the events, and had watched with bated breath as Hawks, the first hero to arrive on scene, soared into the building through an open window. Minutes passed, and shouts and screams were heard from inside. Then, miraculously, the hostages emerged, the injured ones carried gently by scarlet feathers. The police and news crews rushed into the building to find Hawks standing over the bound and feebly stirring villains. He looked scratched up, his lip was bleeding, and he was limping, but as the reporters crowded him, he smiled and gave a cheery wave.
You had watched this entire broadcast, and only after it ended had you realized tears were streaming down your face. It wasn’t just the sheer terror you felt for him being in such a dangerous situation. It was as if you could sense his intense loneliness from the other side of the screen, and there was nothing you could do to soothe it anymore.
…Or so you thought. It was hard to wrap your head around the idea that the memory of you had been a source of constant comfort for him. Just as the memory of him had been for you.
Hawks alights on your balcony, rousing you from your reverie. Gently, he helps you step down onto the tiled floor.
“Thank you,” you say, and hand his jacket back to him.
“Anytime, Y/n,” he replies, holding your gaze for a moment before turning to fly away.
“Keigo, wait.”
He stops, eyes widening curiously at the sound of his name.
“Kei, I…,” You take a shaky breath and try again. “I wanna give you something. Wait right here.”
You slip into your apartment, leaving him waiting, confused. A few moments later, you re-emerge holding something slender, square, and plastic in your hand. Blushing slightly, you press it into his hesitantly outstretched hands. He stares at it. Encased in the clear protective cover is a CD with the words For Keigo scrawled on it.
Oh.
“I… made you a mixtape,” you say, staring hard at the tiled balcony floor. “Back then, I mean. Kind of like a ‘congrats on completing your training’ gift. I knew you’d get busy and might not have time to come see me anymore —and trust me,” you look up into his widening eyes, “I understand why, I always did. But I hoped you’d think of me every now and then, and maybe this mixtape would help.”
Keigo swallows, his throat feeling dry all of a sudden. “Y/n, I…”
“When you didn’t come back, I ended up listening to it myself. Like, a lot.” You're rambling now, but you can’t help yourself. “I’m still fond of it, you know, so if you end up hating it just return—”
Keigo swipes the CD from your grasp with inhuman speed. He’s grinning like an idiot now. “Now, now, Y/n. You made it for me, so it’s rightfully mine. I’m sorry, but there’s no way in hell you’re getting it back.”
You pretend to glare at him, but before you know it you’re both laughing. It’s not even clear what the joke is, all you know is that his laughter is like music to your ears, healing a loneliness you didn’t know you had been carrying all this time.
“Oh, and one more thing,” you giggle, wiping the corners of your eyes. You duck into your apartment again and reappear a few seconds later to hand Keigo a scrap of paper. He takes it and glances at the number written on it, feeling his face grow warm.
“You don’t have to talk to me in your head anymore, silly. I’m right here. Just send me a text or call me—”
Before you know it, he’s closed the distance between you and pulled you into a tight embrace. His arms are solid and sure as they wrap around your back, crimson wings curving forward to complete the sensation of being held in a safe, warm, and enclosed space. A sigh escapes you, and you relax into his arms, his feathers, his scent. His voice is unbelievably tender when he murmurs in your ear, “Thank you.”
You pat him on the back in a daze. “Of-of course.”
He is beaming at you when he releases you. Perching now on the railing of your balcony and preparing to take off, he waves. “Goodnight, Y/n.”
“Goodnight, Keigo.”
He grins wider.
“What?” You ask.
“I like hearing you say my name.”
~~~
It’s a short trip for Keigo from your balcony to his own. By the time he clambers into bed, he’s exhausted. He sets the CD on his bedside table, never mind that CD players are practically obsolete in this day and age. He’ll find one in the morning. Smiling to himself, he recalls your attachment to your childhood music player, how you’d continued to blast songs on it despite the emergence of new gadgets and streaming services. He pictures you as you were then, eyes closed and figure relaxed as you listen to the mixtape meant for him, and his heart swells imagining himself having a place in your thoughts.
He clutches the small slip of paper containing your new number, already committing each hastily scrawled digit to memory before he drifts off into a deep slumber.
Tonight, his dreams are peaceful, filled with gentle ocean waves, canned coffees, and stars glinting serenely.
I know a place
It's somewhere I go when I need to remember your face
hi yes!! So sorry for the delays🥲 to be honest a lot has been happening in my life (work, personal loss) that has taken my mind off writing but I’ll get back on it soon. I have not forgotten <3
synopsis: Congratulations! In the summer months of your final year of university, you receive an extremely rare offer to intern at one of the top hero agencies in Japan. Your excitement is curbed, however, when you learn that it’s from the agency of Hawks, the enigmatic hero whom you may or may not have a deep and complicated history with.
genre: childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers
tags: childhood friends to lovers, canon compliant, hawks, Keigo Takami, slow burn, fluff and angst, reader is Quirkless, reader is a surfer/photographer, original male characters, original female characters
Chapter 4: On the Wing
“So,” you ask, hands digging into the pockets of your hoodie to keep warm, “What’s your reason for visiting this time?”
A playful spark dances in his eyes. He replies simply, “Curiosity.”
“Curiosity?” You repeat. “Care to elaborate?”
"So do you wanna talk about it?” Taki asks, his eyes focused on the screen of his camera as he adjusts the exposure levels.
“About what?” You fiddle with the strap of your gear absentmindedly.
You’re lounging on opposite chairs around the common worktable of the media office. Floor to ceiling windows run along the length of the wall behind you, the brilliance of the morning sun casting a soft glow on Taki’s features. You spin aimlessly in your chair as you wait for the others to show up.
Taki shoots you a pointed look. “Your childhood friend —who also happens to be our boss— pretending not to recognize you and bailing on us at lunch yesterday?”
Much to his surprise, you let out a laugh. “Ah, it was a dick move, to be sure. But it’s water under the bridge. He made it up to me last night.”
Taki raises an eyebrow. Your face heats up, hearing your own words. “Not like that!”
“You know what, I don’t even wanna know.” He turns back to adjusting his camera’s settings, leaving you to run your fingers through your hair self-consciously.
“There’s nothing to know, except that you have a tendency to make a lot of inappropriate assumptions,” you mutter.
“I didn’t say anything,” Taki says in a singsong voice, smirking.
“You said a whole lot with your expression,” you shoot back.
“Y/n, I think you might be projecting.”
“And I think you need to hurry up with your adjustments. Mirko and Watanabe are here.” You nod to the door behind him.
Taki glances up in time to see Hawks’ secretary knocking on the glass door of the office. Watanabe enters, followed by Mirko and a woman dressed from head to toe in varying shades of pink, from her puffy blouse and flared trousers to her chunky platform boots. Even her hair is a bright bubblegum hue. Though it takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the shock of color, you think her overall appearance is quite charming.
“Good morning, Y/n, Taki,” Watanabe says. You return his greeting, and he gestures to the pink lady. “This is Kaia, the head of the media department. Until your arrival, she was running a one-woman team.”
Kaia makes a beeline for you and Taki, beaming. She grasps your hands before Watanabe even finishes his introduction. “Thank god you guys are here, I’ve been up to my neck in this damn agency! Watanabe, you’re my savior.”
She blows a kiss in his direction, and his cheeks turn the color of her hair. He stammers, “N-no problem.”
Turning back to you, Kaia complains, “Do you have any idea how stressful it is to plan and direct shoots, coordinate schedules, take all the photos and videos, process them, and post them on our website and social media accounts, all on your own? That shit was making my skin break out.”
You grimace sympathetically. “That sure sounds like a lot. But Taki and I are here now. We’ll do our best to help you.”
She claps her hands. “Love the enthusiasm. College students are so cute! They have yet to be jaded by the disappointments of a full-time job.”
Mirko clears her throat. “Kaia, sweetie, you should tell them what we’re up to today.”
“Right!” Kaia smiles mischievously. “I hope you guys did a good bit of stretching this morning, because we’re going to be running around the city following Mirko on her mission.”
Mirko puffs her chest out, her muscles flexing with pride. “Don‘t feel too bad if you can’t keep up. I’m pretty fuckin’ fast.”
You and Taki exchange excited looks. Now this is more like it. Speed is no issue for you; in fact, it makes for the most thrilling subject matter to capture on camera. Maybe there was some deep seated biology at work —the thrill of the chase and whatnot— but ever since you had first picked up a camera, it had been your greatest pleasure to seek out visions of swiftness.
“Where do we start?”
~~~
Outside the entrance to Hawks’ agency, the team gathers around Watanabe as he reads aloud the briefing on his tablet:
”The mission is simple. The agency has caught wind of a villain’s plans to steal a prized painting from the local art museum. The villain’s Quirk allows him to brainwash those who are standing still, making theft in a museum quite easy. The crime will take place in broad daylight, and considering the delicate nature of the objects on display, it wouldn’t be advisable to confront the villain inside the building. Therefore, Mirko will be waiting to apprehend him the second he steps outside. Mirko, your job is to recover the artwork in one undamaged piece. Our media team will be following you to document the confrontation, as well as the state of the painting once it’s been recovered. Any questions?”
Taki raises his hand. “My telekinetic Quirk allows me to take photos remotely. I’ll be able to see where my lenses are pointing through an app on my phone. So I don’t think it’s necessary for me to keep close to Mirko. Where should I stay?”
“You can wait outside the villain’s Quirk radius with me,” says Kaia. “We’ll be communicating with the others through earpieces anyway.”
She’s leaning on her motorbike, which, rather unexpectedly, is devoid of the pink hues that compose her entire outfit. Instead, the bike is a sober matte gray that clashes magnificently with the fuschia frills of her blouse.
Watanabe turns to you. “What about you, Y/n? What’s your method for photography?”
You grin at his question, and reach for the object slung around your shoulder by a strap. It’s a sleek metal cylinder no longer than a foot. “I’m glad you asked.”
You press a button, and in a series of neat, satisfying clicks, the object in your hand expands into a contraption greatly resembling a metal windsurfing board. It hovers a few inches off the ground, its engine purring like a cat. Sprouting from the middle of the board is a sail with a control panel and gearshift located on the handle. The board’s exterior is scratched up from years of active use, but thanks to your loving attention and regular maintenance, it still glides through the air as smoothly as ever. Instinctively, you reach out and stroke the sail, your eyes gleaming with tenderness.
“This is my baby,” you say, and your voice rings with pride. “I had it made when I was at UA High, as a way to combine my love for surfing and photography. It’s gone through several iterations at this point, but I wouldn’t be the photographer I am today without it.”
“Let me get this straight,” Mirko says, her bunny ears twitching involuntarily. “You take action photos while flying through the air on a fucking hoverboard?!”
You exchange mischievous grins with the bunny hero. “Yup. So don’t worry about slowing down for us, Mirko,” you reply.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about! We’re gonna get along just fine.” She claps you on the shoulder with so much enthusiasm that you wince at the sheer strength of her grip.
Kaia whistles appreciatively. “Not bad, Y/n! This means I can leave the photography to you two, and focus on my strong suits, direction and social media.”
She sighs, looking immensely pleased. “Shall we get going, then? Are everybody’s earpieces working? Right. Lead the way, Mirko!”
Mirko crouches low to the ground. She shifts her weight to her haunches, preparing to sprint like her life depends on it. Watanabe retreats until he’s right by the agency entrance, waiting to see the team off and offer remote support. Taki settles himself behind Kaia on her motorbike and hovers his phone screen in front of him while two cameras float up on either side, all suspended by his Quirk.
You step onto your board, feeling the familiar engine hum beneath your feet. With one hand gripping the handle and the other holding your camera to your eye, you brace yourself.
And then Mirko is off, shooting down the street like an arrow launched from a taut bow, and you’re zooming through the airspace above her, dodging street signs and stoplights as you go. You keep your camera locked onto the bunny hero and snap a couple of photos. You revel in the rhythm of it all; watch, wait, turn, breathe, shoot. The air currents are smooth and supple beneath your feet. Here, suspended in the air, with your body leaning and bending with every twist and turn of the sail and your weight shifting as your feet dig into the board, you feel composed and alert. The only comparable sensation to this is surfing the waves back in your hometown.
From the corner of your eye, you can see Taki’s cameras keeping pace with you and snapping photos of their own.
“Alright, team!” Kaia’s voice chirps in your earpiece. “We’re just around the corner from the museum.”
“Right on time,” responds Watanabe. “We’ve just received reports from confused personnel that the painting has been stolen from right under their noses. It seems the villain is using his brainwashed victims to hold off security while he makes a break for the exit.”
“On it!” Mirko shouts.
She rounds a corner and you follow in her wake. The museum comes into view. It’s a wide, brick building foregrounded by a spacious courtyard. Dotting the courtyard are a few colorful and eclectic sculptures.
Mirko leaps over Yayoi Kusama’s Pumpkin just as the thief scurries out through the exit, the painting tucked under his arm.
They catch sight of each other, and before he can activate his brainwashing Quirk, she dives and tackles him, sending the painting flying high into the air. It seems as if it’s happening in slow motion, but you know it’s only a matter of time before it will come crashing down to the ground.
“Oh god, should I—?” You begin, craning your neck to watch the painting practically spin into orbit, but Kaia interrupts over the earpiece.
“No need to worry, Y/n! Our gal Mirko is a lot more careful than she looks.”
Your eyes fall back to earth in time to see Mirko subduing the villain in a series of quick, efficient motions. Hastily, you point your camera at them and resume your documentation. In a second, she has him pinned facedown on the floor with his hands behind his back, and in the next second, she deftly catches the painting that was hurtling toward the ground.
“NICE!”
The whole team is whooping congratulations over the earpieces, and Mirko laughs triumphantly as she hops around, still warding off her opponent’s brainwashing Quirk. Taki’s cameras zoom around the scene, documenting the state of the painting. You hear blaring sirens drawing closer, and then a police car pulls up at the entrance, ready to arrest the thief.
The villain is grumbling loudly as Mirko hands him over. “I’ll get that artwork and then some next time! This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, for I am the Villain—,”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mirko yawns. “Don't bother telling me your name, bud. I’m shit at remembering the boring ones. See ya!”
She slams the car door behind him.
~~~
In high spirits after the successful mission, you and the rest of the team sit down for lunch at the cafeteria, laughing riotously as Mirko re-enacts the ridiculous way she had to hop around to avoid getting hit by the brainwashing Quirk.
“I probably would have looked less stupid if I actually got brainwashed!” She says, cackling as she sits back down.
Kaia wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, choking out, “I— I wish I could have seen it for myself!”
“It was great,” you chuckle. “Seriously though Mirko, seeing you in action was amazing. You handled everything so efficiently!”
“Wait ‘til you see me in action.” A smooth male voice chimes in behind you, sounding amused.
You glance over your shoulder. Hawks is holding his lunch tray aloft, the visor propped on his head and the windswept appearance of his honey hair indicating that he’s just returned from his morning patrol. He tilts his head inquiringly, his eyes fixed on you.
“Mind if I join you happy campers?”
You stare at him, trying not to think about the night before or the slight quickening of your heartbeat for whatever reason.
“No lunchtime patrols today?” You ask.
The corners of his lips quirk up. “Nah, that was more of a one-time thing.”
“Ah, gotcha.” Smirking, you scooch over and make room for him on the bench. He settles down comfortably next to you. You look up and realize that the entire table was watching your exchange with the winged hero curiously. Perhaps you’re conducting yourself too casually around your boss whom you supposedly just met yesterday, you reflect. Feeling self-conscious, you drop your gaze and stare intently at your sandwich.
If Hawks notices the others staring, he acts completely unabashed and wholly absorbed in digging into his lunch with enthusiasm. The only other person who seems unfazed is Mirko. She leans forward, eyes glinting.
“You should have seen the interns this morning,” she says to Hawks. “Taki was like a freakin’ camera whisperer with his Quirk, and Y/n literally surfs through the air on a hoverboard while taking photos! It’s like they were born for this job.”
Hawks chokes slightly, looking up from his yakitori to stare at you with sharp, curious eyes.
“A flying surfboard, huh?” He asks.
You steel yourself to meet his knowing gaze. “Um, yeah.”
“How fascinating,” he muses, staring intently. “I’d love to see how that works.”
Watanabe leans forward. “Well, the media team is more than capable of accompanying you on any missions—”
“No, thank you.” Hawks’ eyes snap to his secretary. “Bringing civilians along on dangerous missions doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Hey,” Mirko interjects. “I had my doubts too. But I’m with Watanabe on this one. The interns know what they’re doing, and we obviously took precautions to avoid unnecessary trouble.”
Hawks’ brows knit together in frustration. “Look, that’s all well and good, but—”
“Don’t we have a say?” Everybody turns their head to look at Taki when he speaks up. Disconcerted by the sudden attention of the entire table, he clears his throat.
“I mean, the whole point of a hero agency’s media department is to relay the efforts of the heroes to the public. A strong image helps to reassure society and deter potential villains from wreaking havoc.”
He looks at you for support.
“Right,” you nod. “And an unavoidable part of documenting that is being down on the ground where the action is happening.”
You turn to Hawks sitting beside you, and say firmly, “We knew what we were getting into by coming here.”
Perhaps it’s your imagination, but you think you catch a trace of anguish in his expression. It vanishes before you can be sure, replaced by a breezy, conceding smile.
“Well, it looks like I’ve been outvoted on this matter!” He laughs. “Sorry if it seemed like I was doubting you interns, but you know what they say: better safe than sorry.”
He changes the subject by asking Mirko about that morning’s mission, and the disagreement is promptly dropped as she leaps off the bench for another reenactment.
~~~
Later that night on your balcony, you lean against the railing and breathe in the cool air. The fleeting agitation on Hawks’ face when you talked about accompanying him on missions has been bothering you all day. His words from the previous night echo in your mind: “I didn’t want to drag you into my mess… I couldn’t lose you, Y/n. I couldn’t lose my best friend.”
Ever since you were children, Keigo had been protective. He’d made sure you walked along the innermost lane of every sidewalk while he stayed closer to the passing cars. He’d sent his feathers to float after you while you climbed trees in the park, so that they could catch you if you fell. Once, when you were twelve and sightings of an escaped villain had been reported alarmingly close to your area, Keigo had gone as far as to sneak out of his training facility at night and fly across Kyushu, just to clamber clumsily through your bedroom window and keep watch over you until the morning. You had stayed up together, building a pillow fort and shaking with hushed laughter as you swapped jokes and ghost stories until the sky lightened over the sea beyond your window. His act of disobedience had gotten him into a world of trouble with the commission. But when you apologized profusely for it, he just laughed and said, “What are you talking about? That was so much fun!”
Still, you weren’t a little kid with scratches on your knees and palms from falling off one too many tree branches anymore. You could handle yourself in a sticky situation or two…
A large red feather floats through the air in front of you, interrupting your train of thought.
You shake your head, chuckling in exasperation.
“Is getting jumpscared on my balcony going to become a regular occurrence?” You ask.
“Hey, I put some thought into giving you a heads up this time around,” Keigo says, smiling lazily as he steps down from the railing and onto your balcony. “Seeing as your screeching almost broke my eardrums last time.”
“Harsh,” you pout. “My boss can be so mean. Sorry about your eardrums, sir.”
It’s hard to tell in the darkness, but you swear you see the color in his face deepen slightly.
“Don’t call me that,” he mutters.
Flustered isn’t a bad look on him. You make a mental note and file it away.
“So,” you ask, hands digging into the pockets of your hoodie to keep warm, “What’s your reason for visiting this time?”
A playful spark dances in his eyes. He replies simply, “Curiosity.”
“Curiosity?” You repeat. “Care to elaborate?”
“I wanted to see your flying surfboard.” Then he tilts his head and gestures to the skyline spread out before you. “And, if you’re up for it, we could go on a little joyride through the skies of this fine city of mine.”
You consider this, biting your lip. “I don’t know, I’m already in my comfy clothes. It’s a tempting offer, though.”
“Then why resist the temptation?”
You look up into his amber eyes, and know that as much as you want to play coy, you can’t help but take him up on his offer. Grinning despite yourself, you duck into the apartment to retrieve your board, calling out behind you, “Give me a second!”
Back outside on the balcony with Keigo, you hold out the metal cylindrical contraption in your hand and press the button. It clicks and expands into your flying surfboard, its retractable sail stretching proudly to its full extent as it hovers inches above the floor. He whistles.
“She’s a beauty, no doubt about it,” he crouches down, inspecting the board. “So this is what you had made when you were at UA?”
“Basically,” you reply. “Inspired, as you know, by Treasure Planet. And you.”
He looks up, surprised. “Me?”
“Yes. You.” Your smile is genuine if a little wistful when you explain, “You looked so happy and free every time you were flying, I just wanted to follow you up into the sky and catch a little bit of the light coming off you. You looked like magic.”
There it is again. The way you manage to disarm him with your honesty and perceptiveness, making his breath catch in his chest. Keigo stares at you, marveling at the way you seem to truly and effortlessly see him in the best light. For once, he’s lost for words.
You continue, a little nervous under the intensity of his gaze, “Anyway, I was right! There’s nothing like the freedom of flying. Shall we get going, then?”
He clears his throat and nods, stepping back to watch you prepare to take off.
You step onto your board and tug on the sail just so. It lifts you gently up into the sky, leaving your balcony and the agency building behind. Cool night air envelops your figure as Keigo stretches his large red wings and takes flight alongside you, matching your pace. His eyes don’t leave you.
“Are you trying to race me?” You call out, grinning.
“Come on now, sweetheart,” he replies. “You know better than to bet against m— hey!”
Keigo’s taunt is interrupted when you yank the handle of your windsail, instantly accelerating the board and leaving him in the dust. He angles his wings and speeds after you, exclaiming, “You got a head start! That’s totally cheating!”
You slow down. You’re still laughing when he catches up to you. “Oh, it was so worth it to see that surprised look on your face!”
He huffs, trying and failing to look upset with you. “You really have a way of catching me off guard that I’m not used to, Surfer Girl. I’m calling for a rematch.”
You stick out your tongue. “I’m good, thanks!”
Here in this weightless realm where the silent city lights below and the twinkling stars above seem equally distant, your laughter is for one another’s ears only. Laughter that bubbles up like a freshwater spring, and flows just as easily.
Gradually, wordlessly, you fall into an easy rhythm, circling one another in the indigo sky high above Fukuoka. From Keigo’s point of view, with his gaze trained on you as the stars spin in the background, it’s as if the celestial lights are orbiting you in your own little world. All he wants to do is stay in this moment, his vision filled with the sight of you floating through the air, eyes sparkling and hair blowing in the currents of the wind.
His expression glows with contentment, mirroring the warmth you feel inside your beating heart. Somehow, those childhood afternoons you spent together on the beach in your hometown no longer seem so far away. Even now, those two kids could be playing in the sand of some cozy shore, unharmed by the passage of time.
“You know,” he says presently, “It’s like we’re dancing right now. You ever see those videos of two birds of prey spinning around in the sky together?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Aren’t they performing courtship rituals when they do that?”
Busted.
Though he’s pretty certain that isn’t what this is. You’d have to be holding on tightly to each other, for one thing. And you’d have to be something other than just friends.
He’s quick to recover, shaking his head and laughing. “Those damn romantics!”
“I know, right?” You sigh dramatically. “Humans need to step up their game. We’re getting shown up by the birds.”
“They mate for life and everything, too,” Keigo adds inconsequentially, his tone light as if he’s discussing the weather.
“Huh.” You lean on the handle of your sail, your voice teasing. “And I was under the impression that some birds of prey prefer to lead the bachelor life and revel in all the delights and liberties that come with it.”
He snorts. “Ninety percent of what you read about me in the tabloids or on the Internet is totally fake. Well, maybe seventy percent… fifty, at least fifty!”
You fake a gasp. “You’re telling me you’re not actually the secret baby daddy of four different celebrities?”
“God, is that what they’re saying now?” Keigo shakes his head in exasperation. “That’s rich. When I have kids, I’ll be damn sure to have them with the right person. And be fully present in their life.”
You blink, surprised by the certainty in his tone. “You seem to have put a lot of thought into it.”
He slows down. You subconsciously mirror his movements until you’re no longer circling one another, but floating in the sky face to face.
“Heh, yeah. Sometimes, when this hero business gets gnarly, it helps to think about the kind of future I’m fighting for. A peaceful and uneventful future where I can kick back and relax and maybe, if all goes well, build a nest of my own. So to speak.”
He laughs, avoiding your gaze in apparent embarrassment. “I know how delusional that sounds, considering I couldn’t even maintain our friendship without fearing for your life. But hey, a bird can dream, right?”
Frowning at his self-belittlement, you drift forward, closing the distance between you. At the sensation of your hands reaching for and wrapping around his gloved right hand, he looks up in wonder.
“You’re not being delusional, Kei,” you say firmly, squeezing his palm. “You’re working harder than anyone ever has for that future. Honestly, I bet it’s much closer than you think.”
His gaze softens and he smiles at you with eyes like warm honey. “Thank you. I really hope you’re right, Y/n.”
You stay that way, drifting along on the breeze together. A comfortable silence stretches on. He turns his gaze to the city spread out below, and you see the mischievous glint in his eyes before he speaks.
“Race you to the river?”
And of course, you reflect, rolling your eyes and smiling despite yourself when he tucks his wings and dives towards the glimmering waterway without waiting for a response, it’s only fair that he gets a head start this time around.
I am floating away
Lost in a silent ballet
I'm dreaming you're out in the blue and I am right beside you
Awake to take in the view
Late nights and early parades
Still photos and noisy arcades
My darling, we're both on the wing
Look down and keep on singing
And we can go anywhere
— On The Wing, Owl City
synopsis: Congratulations! In the summer months of your final year of university, you receive an extremely rare offer to intern at one of the top hero agencies in Japan. Your excitement is curbed, however, when you learn that it’s from the agency of Hawks, the enigmatic hero whom you may or may not have a deep and complicated history with.
genre: childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers
tags: childhood friends to lovers, canon compliant, hawks, Keigo Takami, slow burn, fluff and angst, reader is Quirkless, reader is a surfer/photographer, original male characters, original female characters
c/w: there’s passing mention of a super minor character’s implied suicide in one conversation
Chapter 3: Always an angel, never a god
In which you and Hawks meet again.
Hawks lands on the ledge of the main office’s balcony, humming and pulling off his headphones. His morning shift was remarkably uneventful, just stopping two minor robberies downtown and helping older folks cross the street for the rest of it. He spent the rest of his time lounging on rooftops and listening to music while his feathers wandered the area, monitoring for any disturbances. He checks the time: it’s five minutes to lunchtime, when he agreed to meet Watanabe at the cafeteria.
He enters the office and immediately spots Mirko standing over a desk and talking to the nervous worker behind it in a heated tone. The worker notices Hawks, and with a relieved expression, points Mirko in his direction.
“Aha!” The bunny hero exclaims. “Flappy bird, just the man I wanted to see. This guy over here says that if I want more missions, I’ll have to sign as a regular member of your agency.”
“Yes, and?” Hawks intones, already bracing himself for his colleague’s fiery spiel.
“Thing is, I don’t wanna do that. Too much structure, too many rules. I just wanna kick as much ass as possible with no strings attached.” She bares her teeth in a fierce grin.
Hawks pinches his brow in exasperation. “You know, Mirko, I’m starting to suspect that you’re a freelancer, not because you don’t like being managed, but because you can’t be managed.”
She lets out a hearty laugh. “Same difference! So are you gonna give me more missions or not?”
“Isn’t your ‘mission’ right now to help my secretary orient the new interns? I’m headed down to the cafeteria to meet them. I thought you’d be with them.”
“Yeah, I was on my way there earlier, but then I started getting the urge to fight crime, so I headed up here for an assignment and your staff told me to go shove it!” She sniffs, crossing her muscular arms.
The worker bows apologetically. “Sorry, Mirko! Agency rules.”
Mirko gives Hawks a look clearly saying “see what I mean?”
Hawks rubs his stubble thoughtfully. “How about this? You can get a whole bunch of fun, risky little missions for your stay here—”
“YES!”
“—but, you have to help Watanabe with the interns whenever he asks. They’ll be here all summer. Let them tag along on your missions and document you in action for their work.”
Mirko grins broadly from ear to ear. “Sounds like a fuckin’ win-win to me.”
Hawks claps her on the shoulder. “I knew you’d see things my way. And you’re doing more paperwork.”
“Wait a damn minute—”
”Come on, let’s not keep Watanabe waiting!” He whisks her into the elevator down to the fifth floor where the cafeteria and lounge are located.
~~~
Meanwhile, you and Taki are being guided up the building by Mr. Watanabe after a thorough tour of the lower floors. He had greeted you at the grand lobby and told you to leave your suitcases behind for the staff to take care of, then proceeded to show you around the lower offices, the archives room, and a sizable library.
“You’ll be out in the field documenting the heroes and sidekicks’ work most of the time, but when you’re back here, feel free to use any of the available facilities,” he says, now ushering you into the elevator and pressing the button labeled ‘5’. “After lunch, I’ll show you the media office, as well as the training gym and swimming pool.”
“Will we be doing any internal documentation? For example, photographing heroes while they train?” Taki asks.
Watanabe pauses. “That’s a good idea. We could use those for our recruitment brochures. Why didn't I think of that?”
He nods at Taki approvingly. You nudge your friend, mouthing “nice one”.
“Anyway, let’s put a pause on all this talk of work and sit down for lunch. I invited Hawks to join us. I think it would be good for you all to get to know each other.”
You and Taki exchange alarmed glances. Although you had been on edge all morning wondering whether Hawks was going to show up at some point, hearing the confirmation of it still caught you off guard.
Watanabe chuckles, mistaking the shock on your faces for excitement, and perhaps he isn’t entirely wrong.
“Nothing to worry about, Hawks is a very friendly man.”
The elevator doors part to reveal a spacious cafeteria filled with heroes, sidekicks, and regular employees. People mill about, chatting with one another as they line up for food and sit down to eat. Unbidden in your chest, your heart begins to thump faster. You’ve been bracing yourself for this inevitable moment since the day you accepted the internship offer, and yet, what comes next, you have no way of knowing.
You scan the room, and sooner than you expect, catch a glimpse of two crimson wings poking out from the middle of the busy cafeteria. Watanabe says in a pleased tone, “Ah, it looks like he and Mirko are here to meet us.”
Hawks is standing with his hands in his pockets and talking animatedly with the bunny hero. They seem to be in the middle of arguing about something. There's a crease between his brows and a loose lock of unruly honey blond hair falling over his face that he pushes back irritably. As he speaks, his eyes wander the room aimlessly.
When they land on you, he freezes mid-sentence.
Watanabe strides forward. “Hawks, Mirko, thanks for joining us. These are the new interns I was telling you about: Y/n L/n and Taki Ukimoto. Starting today, they’ll be helping out in our media department.”
Mirko raises a gloved hand good-naturedly. “Yo, welcome aboard. Let’s take some badass photos together!”
You and Taki smile and bow in her direction. “Looking forward to it,” you say in unison.
Then you turn, slowly, almost apprehensively, towards her winged companion. Looking up into amber eyes, you say, “Nice to meet you.”
If his jaw is slackened and his eyes are wide with shock, they only remain so for a fraction of a second. In the blink of an eye, Hawks is smiling nonchalantly like the ever camera ready Pro Hero that so many fans have come to adore.
“Glad to have you two on board. Let’s work hard together! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I just remembered I promised to cover the lunchtime patrol shift today. Silly me!”
And with that, he spins around on his heels and strides to the exit, leaving you feeling quite as if you’ve been slapped in the face.
~~~
Oh.
So it's like that.
Any tentative excitement you had at the prospect of seeing Hawks again has just shriveled up and died in your stomach. Mentally, you kick yourself for getting your hopes up —what were you hoping for, exactly? A long, teary-eyed embrace in the middle of the cafeteria?
From the corner of your eye, you can sense Taki shooting you a look of concern, but you’re too embarrassed and confused to meet his gaze.
Mirko snorts at Hawks' quickly retreating figure. “He’s not that busy. What a diva.”
She turns to you, Taki, and Mr. Watanabe. “Anyway, have you three eaten? I’m starving!”
Mirko leads the way to the line of food stands offering a variety of cuisines, all looking and smelling delicious. You select your meal on autopilot, your mind still preoccupied with replaying that disappointing reunion over and over again.
Could Hawks have had his memories wiped? Maybe, but if heroes are being brainwashed, then the world has far bigger problems than your hurt feelings. Or has it just been so long, and his life been so eventful and overtaken by far more important things, that you might as well be a stranger he’s meeting for the first time? This seems more likely.
And yet, there was a split second in the beginning where you thought you saw a spark of recognition in his eyes when he looked at you.
Could he be deliberately avoiding you…?
If so, he’s an asshole. You huff and slide your tray along the metal counter too harshly, spilling a bit of soup.
You get pulled out of your reverie when you sit down for lunch and remember who you’re eating alongside: the Mirko, one of the top ten Pro Heroes in the country, and probably the most badass in your opinion. She’s exactly the same in person as she is on camera: naturally charismatic, energetic, and unhinged as hell. You can’t help but admire her even more for this. It takes a different level of giving-no-fucks to not develop a persona for such a high visibility job.
You and Taki listen in awe as she recounts her ’Top Fights of the Month’, with Mr. Watanabe chiming in every now and then to translate Mirko’s extreme choice of wording.
“I ripped that pervert limb from limb—”
“She actually just knocked him out cold—”
“—It was a crushing defeat, I kicked his ass straight into the jail cell—”
“He was arrested by the police after, following due process of course—”
“—The only thing we said to him when we arrested him was, ‘You’re a worthless maggot who—“
“We read him his rights and everything!” Watanabe is sweating. “Mirko please, if you keep talking like that we’re going to be buried in lawsuits!”
You and Taki both snort into your meals.
~~~
As you’re finishing your lunch, Hawks is speeding across the sapphire sky. He tries to convince himself that he’s just doing a little innocent extra patrolling, and not at all trying to distract himself from the surprise of seeing you at his agency. No, he definitely isn’t thinking about the shape of your eyes, steady and hopeful, as you looked directly at him with a gaze that sent shivers down his spine. Nor is he thinking about how much you’ve blossomed since the last time he saw you, your smart casual clothes wrapping around you neatly. Nor —god— how he had caught a whiff of your perfume, and it had been soft and floral and sweet.
“Shit,” he says out loud, his voice cracking nervously. “Get a hold of yourself, Keigo.”
If years of being under the double scrutiny of the heroes commission and the public have taught Hawks anything, it’s that his vulnerabilities will be used against him.
Come to think of it, maybe he learned it from his folks
first.
And yet, bubbling underneath this well-practiced detachment is the wild excitement of a much younger boy who has been reunited with his long-lost friend. He’s dying to know what you’ve been up to —hell, what are you doing interning at his agency?
He slows his flight and lands on the roof of a towering office building. Seating himself on the edge, he leans back and gazes at the skyline.
It felt like a waking dream, seeing you standing a mere few feet away from him in the middle of the cafeteria, instead of in the frequent visions that creep up on him before dawn, blurring the boundaries between memory and fantasy. How strange to see you, not on the stormy beach where you first met, clouds billowing in hues of deep purple and gray like bruises across the midnight sky, but bathed in the stark fluorescent lights of the agency cafeteria. He could have reached out and touched you, but instead he fled. Imagining your reaction to this, he cringes.
He remembers the way he left things, left you, without warning that summer and his heart aches. That final day on the beach had been so warm and peaceful, with your laughter ringing in the golden air, your head resting on his shoulder, your soft voice telling him you were proud of him. You were every good thing in the world that he wanted to protect.
You still are.
He sets his jaw, his mind made up. Training be damned.
He has an apology to make.
~~~
The rest of the orientation day passes in a blur, and it is with a sense of tired satisfaction that Mr. Watanabe shows you and Taki to your respective apartments, located on one of the highest floors of the agency building.
Your suitcase is already in the hall when you enter, flicking on the lights as you go. The entryway leads you into a simple yet elegantly furnished living area with an open kitchen and a balcony at the far end. You let out a low, appreciative whistle. Off to the side, a door leads into your bedroom, housing a queen-sized bed, a sweeping view of the city, and an en-suite bathroom.
You unpack, checking your cameras and gear with careful attention before distributing the rest of your possessions around the apartment. You start to feel more settled and at home with every motion. Humming to yourself, you inwardly revel at your good fortune in landing this internship.
Despite some disappointments, you think, smiling ruefully.
After a quick shower, you decide to enjoy the fresh air and view of the city from your balcony. You slip a hoodie over your pajamas and open the sliding door, stepping out and taking a long, deep inhale. The night air is crisp, and a gentle breeze blows about as the city sparkles like so many bejeweled constellations beneath you.
You sigh contentedly. You could get used to this.
“Heya, Surfer Girl.”
“HOLY F—,” you whirl around, your body tensed in high alert. Then you see him, perched on the far end of your balcony, his scarlet wings folded behind him.
Your heart banging in your chest, you grip the railing to steady yourself. “—uck, man. Are you serious?! I have a front door!”
Hawks’ hands shoot up apologetically. “Sorry! That’s my bad. Now that I think about it, I really could have approached this in a better way. I’m sorry, Y/n.” He smooths back his hair and lets out a small, embarrassed laugh.
Something about hearing him say your name so casually after the fiasco in the cafeteria ticks you off, even more so than being jumpscared on your balcony.
“Sorry, have we met?” You ask flatly, before turning away to watch the city below you, glaring at the little pinpricks of light indicating the movement of cars along a highway.
“I guess I deserve that,” Hawks says in a soft voice, his wings drooping. “I’m sorry about earlier, Y/n. The truth is that I panicked.”
Taking your silence as a sign that he’s not entirely unwelcome, he steps closer to you until you’re side by side, gazing out towards the skyline. His cologne is woody with hints of citrus and smokiness, masculine and intoxicating. This annoys you even more.
He continues, “I… was ashamed of the way I left things back then, without saying goodbye. I still am. I’ve had all this time to think about how I was going to explain things to you the next time we met. But, ah… I guess I wasn’t expecting to be given that chance in the middle of a crowded lunch break at my place of work.”
“Well, that might have been your only chance,” you respond, though your voice has lost some of its edge now. From this high up, it’s impossible to make out the words on the distant neon billboards.
“True,” Hawks replies. “And if that’s the case, then I’m here to beg you for another one.”
Curiosity gets the better of you, and you look at him then. He smiles, his honey blond hair tossing around in the breeze as his amber eyes hold your gaze. It’s hard to believe he’s standing so close to you again after all these years apart. You search for a trace of the boy you grew up with in the features of this man before you. Years of relentless action and fame may have buried your dear friend, but he’s still in there somewhere, returning your searching gaze. He must be.
He’s grown taller, though you suppose that’s to be expected, and his face is more defined and handsome than ever, the stubble on his chin complementing his jawline perfectly. You knew he got his ears pierced at some point (after all, photos and videos of him seemed to be everywhere you went nowadays), but seeing the ruby red studs up close is… something else.
Hawks tilts his head, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. Too late, you realize you’ve been staring. You hastily avert your gaze.
“It’s good to see you, Y/n,” he says.
“You could have seen me anytime.” You can hear the hurt in your own voice.
“No,” he shakes his head sadly. “I don’t think I could have. I had to stay away, for your own good. This might make me sound arrogant, but I knew that as soon as I made my debut as a Pro Hero, I’d rise through the ranks fairly quickly. For the rest of my life, there would be eyes tracking me, following my every move. I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. If I kept flying across the island to visit you, people would take note. It’s not uncommon for the enemies of Pro Heroes to target the people closest to them… I couldn’t lose you, Y/n. I couldn’t lose my best friend.”
“It was that incident with the hero’s family, wasn’t it?”
He blinks, surprised. “You heard about that.”
Not long after Keigo had last visited you in your hometown, the nation had been shocked by a grisly news report. The wife and children of the No. 7 hero at the time had been found murdered in their home, and authorities suspected foul play from the remaining followers of a villain leader that the hero had taken down a few days before. The hero had never recovered from this brutal loss, and followed his family soon after.
Thinking back to it, you can imagine your best friend’s anxieties upon hearing about the tragedy. His was a path of the highest visibility. How could he sleep at night knowing he subjected you to that risk?
You think of the nights you cried yourself to sleep missing him. Of the bittersweetness of hearing people chat excitedly about the young winged hero rising through the ranks and not being able to tell him how proud you were, or to check in and make sure he was taking care of himself. You had called his number several times, until one day, a robotic voice at the other end of the line answered: “Sorry, this number has been deleted.” It had felt like the nail in the coffin of what was supposed to be a beautiful, lifelong friendship.
You think of your resentment, and weigh it against the idea that, despite the heartbreak it caused you, he had been trying to protect you all along.
You sigh.
“Well, I can’t say I didn’t expect you to have some noble reason for ghosting me. You always do what you believe is right. But—,” You poke a finger at his chest accusingly, “—you could have at least said goodbye!”
“Ah, yes,” Hawks laughs, embarrassed. “I don’t have a noble reason for that one. I was an idiot teenager who was afraid of confronting his feelings, so I ran from them. You deserved so much better than that. I’m truly sorry.” His deep golden eyes search yours gently. “Can you ever forgive me?”
You peer steadily into his face, gauging his sincerity, then let out a soft, resigned huff. “Who am I kidding? Hawks, you’re a hero. You literally save lives on a daily basis. And if losing touch with me helped you to do that better, then it’s a small price to pay, isn’t it? You did what you thought was best.”
Hawks pulls out his phone. “Sorry, can you call me a hero one more time? I need to get it on record.”
“Oh, ha, ha,” you roll your eyes as he chuckles. It’s a bright and airy sound, familiar to you from your youth despite the timbre of its newfound maturity. “You’re not completely off the hook yet, Feathers. While I can forgive you for ghosting me and acknowledge your reasons for doing so, it doesn’t change the fact that the only reason we’re speaking now is because I happen to be interning at your agency.”
He considers this, and nods solemnly. After all, no decent apology is complete without a guarantee not to repeat the offense. But can he really give you that when his position hasn’t changed? He’s still a top Pro Hero, and over the years, he’s made a lot of enemies. He would never forgive himself if getting close to you again endangered your life.
Still, he can’t deny the pull he feels towards you. It’s almost frustrating, the way his usual strategies for emotional distancing don’t seem to work when it comes to you. As long as you’re already here for your internship, would it be so wrong to linger on your balcony for a little while?
He clears his throat. “I understand. What can I do to make it up to you?”
Your expression is unreadable when you reply, “You’re a clever bird. You can figure it out.”
You go back to aimlessly watching the cars meandering along the distant highways, unaware of the way he’s gazing at you —almost ardently— as you do. He’s still wrapping his head around the fact that you’re actually here, leaning against the railing of a balcony at his agency. The lights of the city are reflected in your eyes, the shape and color of which he’d long since memorized, but never thought he’d get to see again.
“It wasn’t a small price to pay, leaving you,” he says after a while, unable to stop himself. “There were hundreds of times that I wanted to reach out, then thought better of it. But now that you’re here…,” He wiggles a fluffy eyebrow mischievously. “It can’t be helped if I start bothering you every minute of your internship.”
“Yeah, right. You seemed real excited to see me in the cafeteria,” you scoff.
“About that… Can we try again?”
You blink, confused. “What do you mean? Try what again?”
“Meeting each other again, after all this time. I’d like to make that up to you, too, if you’ll give me a shot.”
You tilt your head skeptically, but don’t refuse. “How does that even work?”
“Humor me,” Hawks insists with a playful grin.
He strides away from you to the far end of your balcony, then turns back around, hands in his pockets. Whistling a light, cheerful tune, he walks in your direction, his gaze wandering around the balcony with an air of utmost casualness. There’s a swagger in his step that is definitely exaggerated. When his eyes finally land on you, he stops in his tracks, and —you can’t help rolling your eyes— puts his hand on his chest in a gesture of surprise, his mouth forming a big ‘o’ shape. “My goodness, Y/n, is that you?”
You decide to play along, at least a little.
“Why, yes it is,” you lilt, resting your hand on your hip. “Long time no see, bird boy.”
“Really!” He closes the distance between you quickly, beaming as he looks down at you, drinking in your features underneath the moonlight. “Well. If you don’t mind my saying it, you’re even lovelier than I remember.”
Oh God, he’s become an incurable flirt. You hate that it works on you, too, your stomach doing flips at the gravel in his voice. Still, as long as you’re in this weird space of play-acting, you can roll with the punches.
“You’re not so bad yourself. I like what you’ve done with your hair,” you reply. Boldly, you reach up and actually tuck a loose lock of soft blond hair behind his pierced ear.
His breath catches.
You lock eyes, and his act of false bravado vanishes into the still night air.
“I’ve missed you, Y/n,” Hawks says quietly. “More than you know.”
“I’ve missed you too, Kei,” you reply, and his heart skips a beat. He hasn’t heard that nickname in years. After all, you’re the only one who ever called him that. He wonders if you have any inkling of how much he likes the sound of his name on your tongue. Or the warmth and softness of your hand as it cups his cheek. He has to consciously restrain himself from melting into your touch, his resolve weakening with every passing second.
You blink, realizing you haven’t withdrawn your hand. You let it drop to your side awkwardly, flexing it as you do. “Um… I should get to bed.”
The spell is broken, and in the next instant a cheerful yet somehow distant smile is plastered across Hawks’ face. He steps back politely, gesturing towards your balcony door. “Of course. You’ve got a busy week ahead of you.”
“Not as busy as yours, I presume,” you walk through it into your apartment, waving goodnight with forced casualness. “Since you have a lot to make up for.”
“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll be seeing each other around. After all, you’re basically working for me!”
Do you see us getting scraped up off the pavement?
I don’t know why I am
The way I am
Not strong enough to be your man
I lied, I am
Just lowering your expectations
Half a mind that keeps the other second guessing
Close my eyes and count
Always an angel, never a god
— Not Strong Enough, boygenius
synopsis: Congratulations! In the summer months of your final year of university, you receive an extremely rare offer to intern at one of the top hero agencies in Japan. Your excitement is curbed, however, when you learn that it’s from the agency of Hawks, the enigmatic hero whom you may or may not have a deep and complicated history with.
genre: childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers
tags: childhood friends to lovers, canon compliant, hawks, Keigo Takami, slow burn, fluff and angst, reader is Quirkless, reader is a surfer/photographer, original male characters, original female characters
Chapter 2: Laughing All the Way Down
Not that you’ve been keeping track of it, at all, but it’s been nearly six years since you last saw Hawks. And in just a few hours, that timer will reset. You wonder if he knows you’re arriving, or if he even cares. How will he react to seeing you again? What will he say?
Out of all the possible words he could utter towards you, will ‘sorry’ be one of them?
Keigo’s been having recurring dreams lately.
He wonders if the pressures of his job and the irregular schedule that comes with it are to blame, or if the obscene amounts of caffeine and sugar that he consumes on a daily basis are taking a hold of his subconscious during the few hours of rest that he manages to snag in between missions. Maybe it’s a combination of the two.
Whatever it is, Keigo keeps dreaming of a beach. He knows exactly where this beach is, too, try as he might to forget it.
Some dreams are more bearable, such as the ones where the ocean is resplendent in the height of the summer. Children build sandcastles on the shore, happy families splash about in the shallows, and sunlight dances through the crystalline water as the salty air carries along the sound of a girl’s laughter.
The girl is another thing Keigo tries not to think about during his waking hours.
Usually, he’s successful in his attempts. After all, you don't get to such a high ranking on the Pro Hero chart without a little self discipline. His lifestyle also offers him any number of distractions: perilous missions that push him within an inch of his life, luxurious galas where women dressed to the nines bat their eyelashes at him and cling to his sides, hopeful for his company, and long solo flights where the sublimity of the natural landscape takes his breath away.
But his dreams are another matter: they’re beyond his control. And the dream he’s just awoken from was not one of the pleasant ones.
In it, rain was cascading hard onto the beach, soaking through his jacket and chilling him to the bone. He was a child again, and exhausted, struggling and failing to get up from where he had fallen on the shore. He felt the ache in his bones and the icy droplets on his cheek. Then, from out of the blackness, a light appeared, searching the beach. He screwed his eyes against the glare of its beam when it found him, and then the light softened, and she appeared. Her eyes filled with concern as she reached out her small hand to him.
But before he could take it, a shadowy figure manifested behind her. It snatched her up with long, wickedly sharp talons, and cackled as it dragged her away, screaming. Its voice sounded awfully like that of his father. As Keigo struggled in vain to save her, she cried to him in a voice filled with resentment.
“I thought you could protect me.”
He awoke with a start.
Now, he’s staring at the ceiling of the bedroom in his penthouse apartment, steadying his breathing and waiting for his heart rate to return to normal. Sweat is beading on his forehead and his bare chest. He sits up and runs his fingers through his unruly blond locks, thinking hard.
The first half of the dream was a memory, he knows that. But that second part?
It had felt so real, but it was just the same old nightmare. No harm had come to you in real life; he had made sure of that.
He lets out a heavy exhale, then gets up and distracts himself with his morning routine.
On the way out of the apartment, he checks his reflection in the mirror. Avian golden brown eyes stare back, searching. As he suspected, there’s a subtle hint of unease on his stubbled face. He smooths his expression and replaces it with a carefree neutrality, masking his emotions like the well-trained professional that he is.
Then he steps out, taking the private elevator down to his agency.
Some might call him a workaholic, and suggest that he never learned to set healthy boundaries between his personal life and his career, but when Hawks started his own agency at eighteen, he designed his living quarters to be on the topmost floor of the building. He had felt that he was being proactive, and that this arrangement would help him to stay on top of things (so to speak). Whatever his methods, the results speak for themselves: he’s a crowd favorite, and knowing he’s on standby 24/7 has helped the people of Fukuoka City feel more at ease in these dangerous times. In fact, his little plan was so effective that many of his sidekicks and employees followed suit, leading to the expansion of the living quarters on the top floors of the agency building.
And besides, he thinks, smiling ruefully, what does it matter if he literally lives where he works? It’s not like he has much else going on in his life, aside from fulfilling his role as a charming and reliable Pro Hero.
The elevator dings, and the doors part to reveal the agency’s large and airy main office. Hawks strolls into the space and is almost immediately joined by his secretary, Mister Watanabe, an uptight but loyal man with glasses and a thin face. He scribbles busily on a tablet with a practiced hand while trailing the winged hero.
“Mornin’, Watanabe,” Hawks says breezily.
“Good morning, sir.” His secretary nods politely.
“Whatcha got for me today?”
“Surprisingly, it’s not a very eventful day today. No meetings or interviews. Just your usual morning and afternoon patrols, and then your sidekicks will take over in the evening.”
“Aww, how sweet of them to finally start stepping up,” Hawks yawns. He’s really starting to crave some caffeine. Right on cue, Watanabe hands him his favorite, sinfully saccharine canned coffee. Hawks takes it and raises it appreciatively in his secretary’s direction before pulling the tab and downing the drink. They round a corner, and Watanabe speaks again.
“Another thing, Hawks. Our new interns are arriving today for their orientation and move-in. Mirko and I are walking them through everything—”
“Ha!” Hawks scoffs. “Mirko’s not even an actual member of this agency. She’s only working with us part-time so she doesn’t have to do all of her own paperwork.”
He rolls his eyes, deliberately omitting the fact that he was the one who suggested this arrangement in order to, as the bunny hero put it, “help a homie out”.
Watanabe nodded solemnly. “While that’s true, she volunteered to help out when she heard that they were interns for the media team. She, uh, said something about needing more ‘kickass photos to strike fear into the hearts of her enemies.’”
Hawks snorts. “Yup. Sounds about right.”
“But as I was saying: since you have a little more time on your hands, maybe you’d like to welcome them yourself, or even join the orientation in between patrols? I’m sure it would create a good impression on them. A little morale boost, you know,” Mr. Watanabe waits for Hawks’ response, his stylus hovering over the tablet.
Hawks rubs the stubble on his chin absentmindedly, his thoughts already elsewhere. He wonders if he can fly by the nearest convenience store and grab a few more of those amazing canned coffees before the beginning of his shift. Then he catches Watanabe’s expectant gaze, and clears his throat.
“Uh, sure, why not? To be honest, I haven’t been paying much attention to the internship program you set up, but hey! If you say we need more people on our media team then I believe ya.”
Mr. Watanabe sighs. “We really do, and the college students we’ve recruited came with glowing recommendations from their department head. I believe they will work well in our agency.”
“College kids, eh?” Hawks quirks his head to the side, looking especially bird-like as he does. If he had been raised as a normal citizen and gone to school like everyone else, he would be around college age right now. What would he be studying, he wonders? Did they have any college courses on how to turn yourself into a living, breathing weapon of the state? Probably not.
They reach the grand balcony of the office, overlooking the city as the first tangerine streaks of daylight caress the buildings’ rooftops. The wide glass doors part automatically for Hawks, and he strides right up to the edge, his wings unfurling gracefully behind him. His secretary stands back, allowing him the space to get ready for takeoff.
“We can meet you in the cafeteria at lunchtime, if that suits you,” Mr. Watanabe says.
“Lookin’ forward to it,” Hawks replies brightly, donning his visor and headphones. “Later, then.”
And with that, he walks off the ledge, letting himself free fall for a second, the brisk wind racing past his cheeks, before he stretches his wings out to their full length. Long, scarlet feathers fan out in a graceful arc around him. Effortlessly, they catch the air currents and spur him onwards over the waking city.
Hawks shakes back the sleeve of his tan jacket and checks his watch: 5:47 am. He still has a few free minutes, enough time to zip by the convenience store for his coffee.
God, how he loves having a little extra time.
~~~
It’s sometime between 7 and 7:30 in the morning, and you’re seated by the window of the bullet train on the way to Fukuoka. You’re tapping your foot nervously and staring out at the open fields and occasional houses dotting the countryside. Taki is sitting next to you, frowning suspiciously at your tense behavior. He’s skinny and tall like a beanpole, although with his perennially slouchy posture (which you often chastise him about), his real height isn’t always apparent. His jet black hair is still poking up funny from when he fell asleep at the start of the trip, and today he wears a navy blue baggy hoodie over his work clothes.
When you first met him in your freshman year of university, Taki had been pretty antisocial, preferring to bury himself in the coursework rather than to mingle with his classmates. He came from a family of telekinetics, and with this Quirk and his interest in photography, he’d developed a refined technique of hovering his camera and controlling it remotely in order to photograph subjects in motion. Sports games, wild animals, and car races: his lens captured them all with deft precision. He had the abilities of a camera dolly, a drone, and an artist, all rolled into one introverted guy.
When you were paired together for a project in the first term, you’d been the one to suggest that Taki could try simultaneously controlling multiple devices remotely, something he’d never thought to attempt.
“I had a friend with similar abilities,” you had said. “They could control a whole bunch of things at the same time. It’s possible.”
Needless to say, with how much this helped his photography, Taki warmed up to you. You were genuine, easy to be around, and never pressured him into being somebody he wasn’t. On top of this, you had very similar techniques and interests when it came to photography: you also nursed a soft spot for capturing subjects in motion, particularly those in flight. And you had a very unique method for doing so.
Over the years of your friendship, he’s gotten more relaxed, sometimes coming out of his shell and going to parties with you and your other friends. But at the end of the day, his priorities remain unchanged. His biggest ambition is to photograph heroes in action and show society how unflinching and courageous they are.
Now, he shifts in his seat, peering at you as you drum your fingers on your armrest, your gaze flitting restlessly across the scenery outside the window.
“So… are you finally gonna tell me what’s been bothering you?” he asks.
Startled out of your reverie, you turn to him. You didn’t realize he was awake. “What are you talking about?”
“Y/n.” He sounds exasperated. “You’ve been acting off ever since we landed this internship. I thought you’d be excited —hell, I’m excited— but your silence is kind of worrying me. Is there something you want to talk about? Like, did someone at Hawks’ agency get cancelled for doing something awful?”
You let out a burst of laughter and shake your head.
“Oh, god, no! At least, I don’t think so… look, it’s really no big deal, Taki. Whatever you’re imagining is way worse.” You lean back, shutting your eyes. “Ugh, I’m probably just being dramatic.”
He relaxes. “Ah, well, I figured it couldn’t be that bad if you still accepted the offer. Is it more of a personal thing, then?”
You keep your mouth shut tight as he practically stares into your soul, searching for the answer.
Taki snaps his fingers. “I know! Somebody you’ve dated works there.”
You snort. “Absolutely not. You’re way off.”
“Really? Cause the way you’ve been gazing out the window and sighing dramatically this entire train ride says otherwise. My money’s on a failed romance. Hey, you never know,” he nudges you conspiratorially, “this could be a chance to reignite some of those sparks with your ex-lover.”
“He wasn’t my lover!” You snap. Cringing at your raised voice, you glance around the train apologetically before hissing at your friend. “We were just friends.”
Taki raises his eyebrow. “So I was right, it is personal!”
Silently, you curse your lapse in self control. Your face feels hot as you avoid your friend’s gaze. “Again, we were just friends. And the last time we saw each other was way back, right when I started attending UA High… I guess I’m just not sure how to feel about seeing him again.”
“But then,” Taki leans forward, a concerned look on his face, “How do you even know this mystery man still works at Hawks’ agency? Don’t tell me you’ve been stalking his socials…? Y/n, I’m gonna be so disappointed in you if you have been!”
You raise your eyebrow, biting back the smirk that’s threatening to creep up on your face. “Trust me, I don’t need to do any stalking to know he’s still there. If he left, everyone would know.”
Taki stares at you in confusion, trying to grasp the hidden meaning behind your words. You can practically see the cogs turning in his brain, and then— click, it all falls into place.
“Oh, you’re fucking joking.” He blinks several times, processing his realization. “You’re joking, right?”
“Deduce something, Sherlock?”
“Hawks? You’re friends with Hawks?”
His misuse of the present tense tugs at your heart. “I was,” you correct. “We haven’t spoken in years.”
“So that’s who you were talking about back in freshman year. You said you knew someone who could manipulate multiple objects at once… and he has all those feathers… wow, Y/n,” Taki laughs and leans back in his seat, smoothing his hair down absentmindedly. “I didn’t realize you fraternized with young gods in your youth like that.”
“He’s not a god, stupid. He’s a person, just like you and me.” Seriously, why didn’t people seem to realize that about Pro Heroes and celebrities? “And he was a good kid.”
“Still, you can’t deny he’s accomplished some incredible things, and at such a young age too. He made his debut as a Pro at fifteen and started his own agency at eighteen, and he just keeps rising through the rankings. He’s pretty badass, I gotta hand it to him.”
“Yeah, he’s done well for himself, hasn’t he?” You can’t suppress the small, proud smile that quirks up the corners of your lips. The tenderness in your faraway gaze does not go unnoticed by your friend.
“So… Can I ask what happened?” He asks cautiously. “Did you have a falling out or something?”
You shoot Taki a sharp look, all softness abruptly vanishing from your expression. “You know, for someone who claims to be ‘above drama’, you sure are being nosy right now.”
“I only said that about myself because you and Kiyomi wouldn’t stop bugging me to take sides against that groupmate you guys had, whom I’d never even met!”
“What are friends for, if not blind loyalty? Trust me, that groupmate was the worst,” you huff. “But seriously, don’t worry about me and my awkward history with Feathers. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”
“Feathers?” Taki laughs and shrugs. “Ookay, you’re the boss. Just wanted to check on you.”
“Thanks, Taki. You really are the mom friend.”
“All in a day’s work, Y/n.” And with that, he settles himself comfortably in his seat, putting on his earphones and closing his eyes.
You exhale, and turn back to face the window and watch as the scenery gradually shifts from rural landscape to metropolitan city, the train carrying you closer and closer to the person who had once been such a significant part of your life.
Not that you’ve been keeping track of it, at all, but it’s been nearly six years since you last saw Hawks. And in just a few hours, that timer will reset. You wonder if he knows you’re arriving, or if he even cares. How will he react to seeing you again? What will he say?
Out of all the possible words he could utter towards you, will ‘sorry’ be one of them?
~~~
“Y/n, catch!”
You looked up from the book you were reading in the shade of the tree just in time to see a can of your favorite soda falling down through the branches, straight towards your face. You braced yourself for impact, raising your arm like a shield, when suddenly a red feather zipped in front of you and scooped up the can, interrupting its momentum inches from your nose. The feather floated slowly downwards and deposited the drink in your lap.
“Dammit, Kei, that was close,” you grumbled.
Still, it was a hot summer’s day, and the cold beverage was more than welcome. You pulled the tab and took a swig.
“You’re welcome,” you heard him laugh somewhere above you in the leafy canopy. “And there’s no way you actually thought that would hit you. You know my feathers are too fast for that!”
You squinted up through the branches, trying to make out the familiar form of your scarlet-winged best friend amidst the bright green leaves. “Did you just get here?” You called out.
“Yeah, and in record time too,” Keigo replied, his voice right next to you. You yelped. In the time it had taken you to ask him that question, he had landed soundlessly at the foot of the tree you were leaning on and snuck up behind you.
“Someone’s getting stealthy. And…” you added, checking your watch. “Wow, really fast! If you left Fukuoka at 2 like you said you would, then you got here in under 3 hours.”
“Told ya I could do it,” Keigo grinned, folding his arms smugly. “Looks like you owe me a meal.”
At fifteen years old, Keigo was easygoing and confident. With his black graphic tee, baggy cargo shorts, and wavy blond hair cut short in the summertime, he could almost be mistaken for an ordinary teenager with a Quirk. But if one looked closely, they’d notice the razor sharp edges of his end feathers, the lean muscles he’d developed over years of intense training, and the way he moved with uncommon grace and swiftness.
You shook your head at your own foolishness. “I should have known better than to bet against you, Feathers. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“I’ll hold ya to it, Surfer Girl,” Keigo winked. “Here, this is for you.”
He handed you a gift bag, and you accepted it, already knowing what the contents were: your favorite snacks, some of which were hard to find in your little beach town, so he bought them for you in the city.
“Kei, you’re a lifesaver. Thanks for these!”
“Don’t mention it. Anyway, I‘m starving after that flight! And I can’t stay too long, the commission thinks I’m visiting mom right now.”
You had mixed feelings about your friend sneaking across Kyushu to hang out with you, either pretending to visit his mother or claiming to be training his long distance flying (though this last one wasn’t a complete lie). However, his insistence and your desire to see him had long since triumphed over your reservation.
You shut your book and stood up. “Come on, I already know you want chicken wings as your reward.”
“You know me so well!”
A couple of minutes later, you were seated across Keigo at a small local eatery by the beach. You were regulars there, and as soon as the owner saw you two walk in, he nodded and started preparing a fresh basket of wings.
“So, how was your first term at UA?” Keigo asked, tilting his head curiously. You bit back a smile; he always looked especially avian when he was in an inquisitive mood.
“It was… intense, in a word,” you laughed. “My classmates are so passionate, and you were right, the funding for anything even remotely related to Pro Heroes is insane. Even as a Business course kid, I have all these new gadgets and resources to play around with!”
“I told ya, I’m gonna be loaded when I become a Pro. Though I’d rather be paid with free time than with all that dough,” Keigo sighed dramatically. “That’s the real treasure.”
“Gosh, you’re so mature, Kei. You should be the one paying for this meal,” you stuck your tongue out at him.
“Now, now, Y/n, if you want a hope of being mature like me, you’ve gotta hold up your end of the bet!”
“Whatever, Feathers.” You leaned forward excitedly. “Guess what! I’m asking one of my friends in the Hero Support course to make something for me. I think you’re really gonna like it.”
“Oh yeah?” He tilted his head again. “Can you give me any hints about what it is?”
“Remember the first movie we watched on Blu-Ray when we were kids?”
“Treasure Planet?” Keigo’s eyes lit up. “How could I forget? That’s still one of my favorites.”
Years ago, you had sat Keigo down next to you in front of your family’s bulky old television set, insisting that he watch the animated space pirate movie with you. Up until that point, he hadn’t had much exposure to movies. The shack of a household he grew up in had other, baser priorities, after all. His large golden brown eyes lit up watching Jim Hawkins, the protagonist, effortlessly soar through the sky on his flying surfboard. The exhilaration of being up in the air, untethered, was something he could deeply relate to.
But when it came to the scene in the movie where it was revealed, over the course of a heartbreaking musical montage, that Jim had been abandoned by his father as a child, he felt something wrench his gut. And when you looked over at him, you had seen tears streaming steadily and quietly down his face. It was the only time you had ever seen him cry, and though you held his hand and squeezed it gently, neither of you spoke of it afterwards.
“Well, that’s your clue,” you said, leaning back and folding your arms. “I got my inspiration from Treasure Planet.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?!”
“You’ll know soon enough.” You winked.
The food was served, and for a while you both dug in in hungry silence.
“So,” you said in between mouthfuls, “what’re they putting you through over there now?”
His eyes darkened a fraction as he chewed. You knew that there were some things he couldn’t talk about, burdens that were his alone to carry. It worried you to imagine him cooped up at the hero commission’s training facility, under the strict supervision of adults whose motives were shrouded in mystery. Most of the time, he’d brush off the gravity of his situation and act like a goofball to distract you. Still, you’d be damned if you didn’t try to check up on your best friend on the few occasions that he managed to fly across the island to visit you.
“Crime’s getting pretty bad in the city. They’re planning to have me debut really soon. And honestly, I’m itching to get out there and help. It’s time to put all this training to good use, you know?”
You nodded. “You’re definitely the right guy for the job.”
Keigo smiled. “Thanks. The next time you see me, I’ll officially be Pro Hero Hawks.”
“Hawks,” you mused. “That always had a nice ring to it.”
It was the alias he had been using around people other than you for the longest time, after he confided in you that his true identity was a secret. Even your parents thought your best friend was named Hawks. But when it was just the two of you alone together, he insisted that you call him by his name.
Your eyes lit up. “Wait, if this is your last day with me before becoming a Pro, you know what that means!”
You reached into your bag and gleefully pulled out your prized possession, a Polaroid camera you’d bought at a flea market years ago. It was the instant kind that printed out little square photographs, and with it, you had documented every moment and detail of your life that felt significant to you. Naturally, Keigo featured in many of these snapshots, and it had even become a kind of game between you to see whether you could take a decent Polaroid of him while he was flying.
“I knew it. You want an autographed photo of me that you can sell once I’m famous,” he joked.
“Or maybe, dummy, I’m trying to capture some memories of a special day. I can’t help that I’m excited for my best friend‘s Pro Hero debut, I know how hard you’ve been working.”
Too preoccupied with fiddling with your camera, you didn’t catch the soft way he was gazing at you as you said those words. Your support and friendship throughout the last seven years had meant more to him than he could put into words. From the night that he had fallen from the sky onto your doorstep, you had been there for all of his ups and downs. No matter how difficult things got, he knew you were only a text, call, or flight away. Burdens that felt insurmountable when he was alone seemed silly and laughable after he shared them with you. If not for you, he would have felt completely isolated from the world outside of the heroes commission.
Before he could snap out of his thoughts, you pointed the camera at him and hit the shutter. There was a click and a flash, and the camera whirred as it printed out the photo.
“Aw, you look kinda sad in this one,” you noted, looking it over. “Oh well.” You took out a Sharpie marker, and on the white frame bordering the photograph, scribbled the caption, ‘Kei, before becoming too cool for me’.
Keigo read the caption and snorted. “Hell no, that would never happen in a million years. Okay, your turn.”
He took the camera and pointed it at you. You smiled readily, but right before he hit the shutter, Keigo sent one of his feathers up to tickle your nose. You scrunched up your face and laughed uncontrollably as the flash went off.
“No fair, Kei!” You squeaked. He took your Sharpie and wrote a caption on the fresh photo: ‘Y/n, always the coolest’.
“I’m keeping this, by the way,” Keigo said.
“Whatever, I’m laughing like a crazy person in it anyway.”
Keigo knew better than to argue the point with you, but inwardly, he disagreed. He thought you looked cute.
As he pocketed the photo, he glanced outside. The sun was sinking lower upon the horizon, bathing everything in a warm, orange glow. When he turned back to you, his eyes were like pools of honey in the light.
“It’s golden hour. Wanna hit the beach?”
You paid for the meal, and side by side, the two of you strolled along the shore, breathing in the salty air and listening to the lazy rolling of the waves. For a summer afternoon, the beach was deserted. You kicked off your shoes and skipped, barefoot, down to the water. Foamy waves greeted you gently, soft sand sinking beneath your feet. You closed your eyes and let out a deep, satisfied sigh.
“Man, I love summer break,” you said happily, turning back to your companion. Click. Keigo had been pointing the camera at you, waiting for the perfect moment to take a picture. He caught the printed photograph and inspected it.
“You know, Y/n, I think I’m a natural photographer. I might be giving you a run for your money.”
“Oh yeah?” you challenged, walking over and swiping the camera from him. “Too bad, we both know you like being in front of the lens more than you like being behind it. Go on and show off your flying skills, Feathers.”
Grinning broadly, Keigo spread his wings wide. “Let’s see if my paparazzi can keep up with me.”
And with that, he shot up in the air with superhuman speed. You tracked the swooping arc of his trajectory through your lens, watching, waiting. He soared over the water, wings skimming the waves and sending up a spray of saltwater, and when he pivoted at just the right angle, you pressed the shutter.
Keigo let out a whoop of buoyant laughter and flew past you. He did a few rolls in midair just for fun, then landed smoothly on the sand a few meters behind you. You ran to him, waving the photograph triumphantly in your hand and calling, “It’s perfect!”
In your enthusiasm, you miscalculated the momentum of your run and halted too late, nearly toppling into him. He caught you, laughing as you steadied yourself, and glanced at the picture in your hand. In it, he was frozen in flight inches above the waves, which were reflecting the radiant orange of the early sunset. There was an expression of pure joy on his face as he looked straight out at you. Somehow, the image perfectly encapsulated the freedom he felt when he was flying.
“How do you do that?” He asked, genuinely amazed.
“I practice with a difficult subject, a certain winged hero,” you teased. “He’s a speed demon, so I have to keep up. Nuh-uh,” you added, as he reached for the photo. “This one’s mine. You have dozens of my Polaroids at this point.”
You plopped down on the sand, facing the setting sun over the ocean. Keigo sat next to you, his eyes on your face like you were a book he loved rereading.
“You know,” you spoke up. “Surfing season’s not too far away. I can finally teach you the basics, if you ever have the time. Though I suppose you’ll be a lot busier from now on.”
You gave him a sad smile, which he returned.
“I’d like that,” he said.
“I have another gift for you, too, but uh, it’s not totally ready. I’ll save it for the next time you drop by.” You averted your gaze self-consciously, hands twisting in your lap.
“Aw, you’re spoiling me,” Keigo nudged you playfully. You nudged him back and rested your head on his shoulder. You sat like that in a comfortable silence, gazing out into the sunset as the moments stretched on.
Too soon, Keigo’s watch started beeping. You looked at each other.
“Time’s up,” he said.
“Alright, see you next time,” you replied. “Thanks for stopping by. Have a safe flight back.”
“Bye, paparazzi. Thanks for the meal,” he ruffled your hair and stood up, his wings unfurling in preparation for takeoff.
“Kei?”
“What’s up?” He turned to meet your gaze.
“I’m proud of you. You’ll do great as Hawks.”
He blinked, feeling the blush creeping up his face. “When did you get so sweet, Surfer Girl? But thank you.”
You smiled and raised a hand in farewell. Beaming, he waved back, then turned and rose up into the air.
He soared across the sky, and you watched him disappear from view, just as you had all those years ago when you first met. Just like back then, you were already looking forward to seeing him again, and you trusted that he wouldn’t keep you waiting too long.
Only this time around, you were mistaken.
You waited in vain, and never heard from the winged hero again.
synopsis: Congratulations! In the summer months of your final year of university, you receive an extremely rare offer to intern at one of the top hero agencies in Japan. Your excitement is curbed, however, when you learn that it’s from the agency of Hawks, the enigmatic hero whom you may or may not have a deep and complicated history with.
genre: childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers
tags: childhood friends to lovers, canon compliant, hawks, Keigo Takami, slow burn, slight angst, reader is Quirkless, reader is a surfer/photographer, original male characters, original female characters
author’s note: this is my first fic! as I mentioned before, I’ve been mulling this idea over in my head for soo long and it’s been so much fun finally fleshing it out! hope you enjoy
Chapter 1 - The Night We Met
The weather could not be lovelier. Flower blossoms drift peacefully past your dormitory window, glowing pale gold in the early afternoon light. Birds sing in the trees as if welcoming the long-awaited warmth, and you can hear students lounging on the grass outside your building, talking freely and celebrating the end of exams and the beginning of the summer break.
Meanwhile, you’re indoors, hunched over your laptop and anxiously refreshing your email inbox while you chat with your friend over the phone.
“… supposed to be hearing back from the department today,” you’re saying, as your cursor hovers over a new email that just popped up with the subject line Internship. “Hang on, I think I just got mine.”
“Same here. Hey, what do you think happens if all your applications are rejected? Do you get delayed? Or do you think they just take you out back and shoot you?” Taki’s voice reflects the nervousness that you feel. You let out a shaky laugh.
“Either way, I do not want to have to find out. Well, here goes,” you say, clicking on the email while fervently praying to the internship gods to look upon you kindly.
There’s no point in delaying the inevitable. You submitted the best application you could have at the time; the rest is out of your hands. As for Taki, you aren’t worried about him: he’s almost always top of the class— except for the occasions when you beat him to it.
In the summer months of your final year of university, students are required to enroll in an internship relevant to their field of study. Aside from sending out applications independently, you’re all encouraged to send applications to your department heads, who will use their own judgement to recommend students to internships that they deem to be a good fit. The email you’re reading now is from the head of your media department, an eccentric yet earnest old man:
To y/n l/n,
Wonderful news! I am pleased to inform you that the application I submitted on your behalf has been accepted. Now, this is a most excellent and rare opportunity (you are one of two accepted applicants) so I hope you will consider it over any other offers you might have received—
“I got an offer!” you squeak, anticipation coursing through your veins.
“So did I,” Taki groans in relief. “Where’s yours from?”
Your eyes scanning the letter, you read aloud, “‘Given that you are a graduate of the UA High Business course, and have continued to pursue your interest in media and photography in your undergraduate studies, I thought it pertinent to recommend you to a Hero Agency. Your application was accepted by one of the top agencies, run by the Pro Hero Hawks’…”
Oh.
Your voice trails off, your heart sinking slowly to the depths of your stomach.
You reread the last sentence, thinking that there must be some mistake. But no, the words remain resolutely unchanged the second time around, the name ‘Hawks’ typed out in clear black text with utter finality.
Out of all the places you could possibly intern at, why are you being assigned to his agency?
“Taki, swap internships with me. There’s gotta be a way to do that, right?”
“Uhh, actually… it looks like I’m headed there too,” Taki replies, unknowingly sealing your fate with his words. “But why the hell would you wanna give up this opportunity? It’s like, crazy competitive. I didn’t even think to apply for it on my own.”
“No, you’re right,” you lean forward and massage your temples, trying to clear your head. Turning down this offer would be way too irrational. In the grand scheme of things, this is still a better opportunity than you could have hoped for. Gaining experience at the agency of a literal Top Ten Pro Hero would make your resume glow with the brilliance of the heavens above. It would announce to potential employers: Hey, if you don’t hire this girl, you’re gonna be missing out on some stellar, top notch job performance!
“Read the rest of it, too. We get an allowance and free accommodations, y/n! That’s insane,” your friend lets out a low whistle. “No need to worry about the expensive hours-long commute to the city every day.”
“How great,” you say weakly, trying and failing to share his enthusiasm.
You don’t have the heart to bring up what’s troubling you about the whole arrangement. You don’t even have the words, come to think of it. The memories stirring in the corners of your mind now are souvenirs from another time, one that you have not spoken about in a long, long while. Memories of childhood summer afternoons ringing with carefree laughter, of silly games played by the beach, and most of all, of golden brown eyes and scarlet feathers.
“Listen, I gotta go now, ‘kay? See you.”
Without waiting for a response, you hang up and shut your laptop.
You had planned to stretch out on the grass outside and enjoy the warm sunshine and rare idle time provided to you that afternoon, but now, after reading that letter, all you want to do is climb into bed, clutch your plushie tightly to your chest, and allow your mixed emotions to wash over you like waves.
Waves… they had been crashing down hard on the beach the night you had met that golden-haired, golden-eyed boy.
~~~
It was a stormy night during the typhoon season, and you were feeling disappointed. There was supposed to be a spectacular meteor shower tonight —you had heard them talking about it on the radio— but now, with purple clouds boiling over the ocean outside your bedroom window and thunder crashing over the rain-soaked beach, there was no way you’d catch any of it. At eight years old, this felt like the greatest letdown of your life.
You lived in a small seaside town along the coast of Kyushu. It was a quiet, cozy place that only saw a semblance of tourism during the surfing season, when the waves were consistently good. Your parents had left you alone for a few hours, telling you to stay put while they helped gather emergency supplies for those in town who needed assistance in the storm. And when the power supply got cut abruptly and the lights flickered off, you didn’t even flinch. Having grown up by the beach, you knew the drill. You simply switched on the battery-powered lamps and carried on with your night.
You were flipping through the pages of a manga, the portable radio next to you playing a pop punk anthem, when you heard a loud thud outside on the beach. Unconcerned, you continued with your reading. But then something floated gently past your window and caught the corner of your eye. Peering at it, you made out a single scarlet feather.
Huh, you thought, that’s weird. We don’t get many red birds here.
Your mild interest slowly gave way into concern, however, when that feather was followed by at least a dozen others, all drifting limply to the sand outside your house.
“The birdie is hurt!”
You grabbed a flashlight and hurried out into the rain.
With some trepidation, you made your way down to where you had heard the thud, somewhere in between your front door and the dark, turbulent ocean. Your wide eyes scanned the sand anxiously for the shape of a bird, but what they landed on, instead, was a little more unexpected.
Laying on the shore was the feebly stirring figure of a boy with two majestic, feathery red wings sprouting from his back. They swept over his form, as if to shield him from the rain and the cold. Looking at him, you were reminded of old paintings of fallen angels you had seen in art books at the local library. His short, fluffy hair was a honey blond color, and though you couldn’t see any visible wounds, it was clear that he was struggling to get up. He had fallen so close to the water that the stronger waves reached and pulled at the edges of his form.
Falling like stars around him were stray crimson feathers like the ones you had seen outside your window.
You approached slowly, cautiously, raising your voice over the storm. “Hello?”
Golden eyes opened a fraction in response to your voice. There were sharp black triangular markings framing them at the corners, enhancing his resemblance to a bird of prey. Even then, you found him strangely beautiful. He watched you wordlessly, unable to speak from sheer exhaustion.
You spoke in a reassuring voice, reaching your hand out to him. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I wanna help you, if you’ll let me. You’re safe here.”
The boy closed his eyes and passed out.
~~~
When he awoke an hour later, he found himself laying on a sofa in a cozy, candlelit living room. Although he still felt tired to the bone, he was at least warm and dry now. He could hear the rain still hammering down on the beach outside, and he shuddered remembering how bitingly cold it had felt soaking into his skin. A thick knitted blanket covered him, and placed on the low table beside him was a fragrant, steaming bowl of broth. His stomach growled as he stared at it.
“You’re awake!” an excited voice piped up from the corner. The boy’s sharp eyes darted up and landed on you, a girl around his age, maybe younger. You had been reading your manga, but now you set it down and approached him, smiling warmly. “How are you feeling?”
His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I… shouldn’t be here. I’ve got to get back.”
You blinked, confused. “But you’re hurt. You need to rest first. And eat.” You gestured to the bowl on the table between you.
He shook his head, ignoring the aching hunger he felt. “They’ll be looking for me.”
“Who, your parents?”
The boy shook his head again somberly. “No, I don’t see them anymore.”
His father was in prison, and had been for some time, while his mother was being housed comfortably somewhere safe and discreet. Technically, he could visit her whenever he wanted, but he preferred to spend all his free hours training. It felt like a better use of his time.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” you sat down on the floor by the sofa and leaned closer, looking up at him curiously. “But then, who’s looking for you?”
He thought about this for a second, bemused. He’d never had to describe the adults in suits who dictated his daily schedule and planned his future to anyone before. “I guess you could call them my teachers.”
“Hey, I’m in school too,” you beamed with so much sincerity that he couldn’t help but return your smile, albeit shyly. “We’re reading chapter books right now! What are you learning?”
“Something like that. And other stuff…,” knowing you were going to ask, he explained, “I’m learning how to use my Quirk better.”
To demonstrate, he willed a single scarlet feather to detach from one of his wings. It danced between you two, tracing figure eights in the air. You gasped in amazement and clapped your hands, making him grin with pride.
Just then, his stomach growled loudly. You caught each other’s eyes and laughed.
Scooching closer, you picked up a spoon next to the bowl, dipped it into the broth, and lifted it to the blond boy’s mouth. Finding it harder to refuse such a direct offer, he sipped it, hesitantly at first, and then with much enthusiasm. The black markings bordering his lash line stood out when he closed his eyes. Pretty, you thought. This continued for several minutes: you filled the spoon with soup, and the boy sipped it appreciatively. Outside, rain continued to pour in sheets over the ocean.
When the bowl was empty, and the candles were half-melted, the boy sighed contentedly and looked at you gratefully. “Thank you for looking after me,” he said.
You giggled. “You’re so polite. You don’t talk like other kids our age. Do your classmates also talk like you?”
“I don’t have any classmates,” he replied.
“What about friends?”
His voice was quiet when he answered, “None.”
He felt embarrassed at this admission, as if he had revealed some sort of weakness to you— something that his handlers repeatedly reminded him never to do. On top of this, he felt a strange, awkward fear that you would think less of him. Were kids his age supposed to have many friends? He didn’t know anything about his peers, he realized. He lived in a bubble where the only thing that mattered was the results of his training… and yet, there you were, sitting on the floor, gazing at him through the other side of that bubble, the first person to remind him that a life outside of it even existed.
“Hmm,” you pondered his response solemnly for half a second, then perked up. “Well, I wanna be your friend. I’m y/n.” You held out your hand to him.
The blond boy stared at you. A warmth that had nothing to do with the broth was spreading throughout his small chest. He reached for your outstretched hand and took it.
“I’m Keigo,” he said, his hopeful golden eyes meeting yours.
And just like that, Keigo Takami made a friend for the first time in his life.
The rest of the night passed by peacefully. You took turns asking and answering each other’s questions, drawn together by a mutual fascination. His answers tended to be vague, and he’d choose his words carefully. You, on the other hand, were an open book, and would ramble about a subject enthusiastically while he watched you with rapt attention and a small smile on his face. He asked about the manga you were reading, and you launched into a vivid retelling of the story so far, describing your favorite characters with a spark in your eyes.
When you asked what he had been doing that night and how he ended up falling from the sky, however, he averted his eyes, looking self-conscious.
“I pushed myself too hard,” he said sheepishly. “It’s part of my training. I want to be able to fly long distances as fast as I can, but I think I overdid it tonight. I tried to get here from Fukuoka in under four hours.”
“Fukuoka?!” You exclaim, your eyes round circles of disbelief. “That’s on the other side of this island! That’s like”—you recalled what your geography teacher had said—“hundreds of kilometers away!”
“Four hours should be possible,” Keigo insisted, his voice full of determination. “I’m sure my wings can do it; I just need to keep trying.”
Red feathers fluffed up behind him, as if to emphasize his resolve.
“Why do you want to be so fast?” you asked. You had never met anyone so ambitious, and yet so confident in his ability to reach a lofty goal. This boy clearly wasn’t like other kids your age. There was something special about him.
“Because there are people in trouble all over the country,” he replied, a quiet passion burning in his eyes. “I want to be able to help them as quickly as possible someday.”
Just like his idol. That’s what this was all for, he reminded himself. That’s why it was alright with him that he had never made any friends, until tonight.
He searched your face for your reaction to his words. You gazed at him for a second, then your face split into a radiant, toothy grin.
“You’re the coolest friend I’ve ever met, Keigo!”
His cheeks glowed bright red.
Outside, the rain was letting up and the skies were clearing. Keigo glanced out the window. “I’ve got to get back,” he told you reluctantly.
“Oh, right,” you said. You’d lost track of time, and your disappointed expression reflected Keigo’s own emotions. “Will you be okay?”
“I’ll head back more slowly, and rest if I get tired,” he said. He smiled, wanting to reassure you.
He got up off the couch and flexed his wings carefully, testing how they felt. The hours of rest and the broth you fed him had restored his energy magnificently. Every scarlet feather responded to his will with ease.
You watched with wonder as he stretched his wings wide. Your eyes met his amber ones.
“Thank you for looking after me,” Keigo said again. “I owe you one.”
You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it.”
He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as if working up his courage, then asked, his eyes wide and hopeful, “Can I come visit again sometime? I’d like to know what happens next. In the manga you’re reading, I mean.”
“Of course,” you said, lighting up at the prospect of seeing your new friend again. An idea struck you, and you moved to the bookshelf in the corner, pulled out a volume, and handed it to him. “This is the first issue. Try and catch up so we can talk about it next time!”
He beamed at you. Together, you walked out of the house and onto the beach. The sand was still wet with the recent rain, but the clouds had been drawn back like curtains, revealing a sparkling midnight blue sky. Tucking your manga safely in the inner pocket of his jacket, Keigo extended his wings fully. They flapped once, twice, and lifted him gently a few feet into the air where he hovered, holding your gaze steadily.
“Goodbye, y/n,” he said.
“Bye, Keigo,” you waved.
He flashed you one last shy smile, then rose high into the sky and sped off towards the mainland, his wings carrying him along faster than you would have expected. Not for the last time, you wondered what kind of life he led and what kinds of things were expected of him, that he would fly across the island through a raging storm, literally topple out of the sky from exhaustion onto some distant beach, and then wake up and immediately worry about returning.
The serene sound of the ocean waves filled your ears when you watched him disappear into the starry sky. As you looked on, a streak of light appeared above the horizon. It glinted in the night, tracing a soft arc across the aether before vanishing into the vast, velvety blue darkness.
Me: Did you know that Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood follows the structure of the monomyth complete with the three parts of departure, initiation, and return? Did you know that Edward Elric and Ling Yao’s time in Gluttony’s stomach can be seen as the hero’s archetypal journey to the Underworld? Did you know that Leto was also the name of Apollo and Artemis’ human mother? Did you know that supernatural aid comes to the Elric brothers only after they have tried to resurrect their mother, thereby subverting the “magical helper/guide” trope because Edward’s arguably supernatural ability to create alchemy without a transmutation circle was due to this childhood error? Did you know that Edward and Alphonse must not only confront and/or make atonement with their actual father, but with a villain who is literally called “Father”? Did you know the name Roy means king, and that Roy Mustang must usurp the throne of someone who is actually named “King”? Did you know Edward becomes master of two worlds by reconciling himself with the realm of Truth and the realm of reality, and becomes competent in both spiritual and material matters? Did you know Edward often sees/describes himself as the mythological character Icarus, who fell from the sky after flying too close to the sun? Did you know Edward’s figurative apotheosis actually occurs when he recognizes that he can never become a god? Did you know
Me: Did you know that Amestris was the queen of the Persian King Xerxes I? Did you know that Edward Elric’s signature outfit of black clothes, white gloves, and red coat correspond to the symbolic colors of the alchemic transformation of lead into gold (the color of his hair)? Did you know that there was a real man in the real world named Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim, an alchemist better known as Paracelsus, who claimed to have created the Philosopher’s Stone? Did you know that the text around the human transmutation circle comes from a real-world alchemic text? Did you know
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