@geidonteispostergirl
This was still all he was cut out for, wasn’t it?
Like a comet, the hero shoots through the darkened sky, his golden eyes fixed on the streets below. This isn’t his job anymore, not here; still, he can’t help but retain his habits in this supposed purgatory, his gaze constantly peeled for danger.
All in all, this place seems relatively peaceful on the surface. The ward he’s been granted a home in, apparently labled ‘Cotes Fantasci’ (which he has some discernable trouble pronouncing), is verdant and and downright almost neighborly when it comes to its inhabitants. Still, without the use of over half his quirk, Hawks cannot help but feel restless, the itch replaced with a longing to do what he was brought up to do.
So, he takes to the skies every morning and evening in some mockery of his previous Fukuoka patrolls, hoping to scratch that itch that gnaws at the back of his thoughts so terribly he does not sleep. There isn’t an over-abundance of other avian creatures within the city, he gathers, as the skies are usually his and his alone.
Tonight, however, as he swoops low over the markets, another form zips past him through the crisp night air, pink hair billowing about her head as she sets off at a purposeful pace. He could ignore her; should ignore her if he wants to continue his little mock patrol, but the isolation licks at his mind too much for him to not give chase.
With a furious beat of his wings, he changes course, shooting off after the girl. At least he still has his speed, since he catches up decently quick.
“So I am sharing the skies with someone else afterall!” he muses, ignoring the stinging in his eyes from the low-budget plastic visor he’d been given. “Who’da thought?”
