Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day started like all of her days did: in Tartarus.

It was torturously calm. White walls, white ceiling, white lights, white floor, white noise, just white white white white. Ironically, she was there when they designed it. She’d nodded approvingly at all the countermeasures they’d taken to make sure “dangerous villains” never saw the light of day, buried under layers and layers of guns and doors and dirt.

It was funny, wasn’t it? How she was now a “dangerous villain.” They didn’t allow her any access to recent news ever since she’d been locked up, but she knew how all that propaganda bullshit worked. Hell, she’d orchestrated some of it herself: shoot one innocent man or another in the head and frame it on their “villainous”, “plotting” nature. She filled all the flat whiteness with imaginary headlines:

Beloved Hero Gone Rogue!

Former Pro-Hero Goes on a Murder Rampage!

No, no, they would never do that. It made them look bad, seeded fear into the public. If one “beloved” hero went rogue, then what was stopping the others? No, they wouldn’t call her beloved like they used to. They wouldn’t allow a single whisper of “top-three hero”, or even “pro-hero”, or, heck, not even “hero”. They’d call her a villain. That was what she was now: the bad guys. It tasted sour in her mouth.

Or, or, worst of all, they wouldn’t call her anything at all. Even a popular figure like her could disappear into obscurity fast enough, after all, it was such a saturated industry. There were enough “heroes” popping up left and right to drown out her existence.

The rattling of the door sliding open interrupted her thoughts. The guards never gave her any trouble. They were just bringing lunch. Her hands two hands had been locked behind her back, trapped in a large cast specifically designed to nullify her quirk, so she had to be fed by someone else. When she’d first been locked in here, when she was still kicking and screaming and shuddering, out of breath, haunted by the sticky-wet feeling of blood on her arms, the guards had muttered and murmured at her.

“Is this… is this really…? Had she… she… really become… this?” They’d say under their breaths, as if she couldn’t hear. As if she had anything else to hear. It’s not as if she could blame them, though. Maybe, some of these guards were raised watching her on their television, smiling proudly as she apprehended a villain, and wishing they could be like her. Maybe, she was the one that motivated them, to leave their friends and family behind in favour of this hellish island, to patrol endless white prisons and watch over the souls of the wicked. She almost felt bad for them. After all, this entire world they’d devoted themselves to was nothing but a fucking facade.

Almost.

They didn’t say anything anymore. They’d probably grown numb to it. She didn’t give them any trouble, either. She’d grown numb to it too.

She still felt the blood on her hands, sometimes. Her mind would conjure up shadows in the white, hunched over dark-red stains all over the walls. She’d shudder, squeeze her eyes shut and shrink into herself as much as she could, trying to breathe through the thick scent of iron and death. Sometimes she screamed, other times, her mouth was just agape, the sound trapped in her throat. Someone would rush in to see what was wrong and she’d snap out of it and that was that.

She didn’t like this life, but she accepted it. Whatever the HPSC said was true, was true, she of all people should know that. She’d snapped, failed, and they’d discarded her, like a faulty weapon.

By now, after years of white white white white white white white, she’d accepted it.

Which is why Lady Nagant was so surprised when she woke up one day to find herself falling off of a building.

Some part of her mind immediately snapped to attention. She was falling. Fast. The neon lights of the city (city???) whirled around her as she plummeted, the wind screeching against her face as it whipped up her hair. She flailed around in the air, eyes wide, mind whirring. Bad, bad, bad, this was bad, she was going to die- what did she do wrong? Why were they trying to kill her? It must be the HPSC, there was no other excuse to even allowed her to look outside of the walls of Tartarus, much less bring her to some big city. Heck, was this how she die, in the end?

Absently, Kaina heard someone scream.

She looked down, squinting as her eyes teared up.

The streets were quiet, sleepy. All the street lights blurred together: a pool of gold, growing brighter and brighter and brighter as she fell. There was a smudge of grey amongst all that light. It was screaming. It was… a kid. A kid. Oh. Oh. A kid.

On the streets.

Screaming.

As she plummeted towards them.

No, no, no, no, this was not how Kaina was going to die. She was not going to scar this child through the image of her mangled corpse on the streets. But how? She flung her arms outwards, willing this to all just be some twisted nightmare. Up, up, up, up, she had to go up, and that pool of gold grew larger and larger and the ground whistled dangerously closer and that shrill scream got louder and louder and all of a sudden-

Abruptly, she was flung backwards, like someone had yanked upwards on a string that had been attached between her shoulder blades.  Her body pitched uncontrollably upwards, almost tipping upside-down as she flailed her arms in an attempt to orient herself. What the fuck was happening? She was still streaking forwards with speeds that rivalled the fall, but instead of crashing to the ground, she was gliding turbulently across it. A streak of red caught the corner of her eye. Oh. Oh. She had wings.

Distantly, she heard a child’s laughter.

Good, she thought, I didn’t hit the kid, before losing control completely, careening to the right and crashing into an alleyway. Her bones screamed and her skin hissed in pain as she skidded across the uneven, cobbled floor, before crashing straight into a dumpster with a metallic thump.

The world spun, dizzyingly, as she lay there, looking up at the night sky. The stars were barely visible underneath a faint haze. Huh. Light pollution. She thought to herself. Hah, haha, I’m going insane. The sky… it was so deep… so impossibly deep. The air stank. Her entire body felt sore. There was definitely some sort of gash down her arm. But… she was free. She could feel, she could feel her arms, she could feel the course texture of the gravel beneath her, she could hear the distant rumbling of cars driving by… she was free.

Something to her left ruffled. She looked over, before doing a double take. Stretched out beside her was a large mass of red… something. She sat up, and that mystery-red-stuff shifted up with her, arching out behind her. Kaina Tsutsumi’s eyes widened as she registered three things at once.

One, she had a pair of flamboyant, red wings sticking out her back. Two, she had no clue where she was, when she was, why she was, or even (evident from those wings), what she was. Three, she could not feel her quirk.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, she steadied herself, heaving herself to her feet. The adrenaline from that fall/flight was fading away, and that gash down her arm was starting to hurt. She looked down at herself. Blinked. Blinked again. Okay. She was a man. Interesting. (What the fuck?)

Instinctively, she ran a hand through her hair, only to find that no, it was not the long, purple-pink locks she could twist into bullets at all. No, her hair was short, and, after some examination, blond.

Her first instinct was that it was some sort of body-swapping quirk. Probably. Why else would she have woken up in another person’s body? Her mind whirred through different possibilities: was it done purposefully to break her out of Tartarus? But… how? And why? Given the fact that this man already had a quirk, (the wings on her- or his, or, whatever- back quivered when she thought of them), it probably wasn’t his quirk. Which meant… had the man been fighting someone?

Oh. Oh, shit, she was probably supposed to be a hero, wasn’t she? What else could explain the costume, and the gear tailored specifically to accommodate to this guy’s quirk?

Breathe. Breathe, Tsutsumi, breathe, breathe, breathe. She slumped against a wall, heaving. A hero, again. Even after all this time, she was still on the HPSC’s leash.

All of a sudden, footsteps rang out in the alley. Kaina snapped to attention, pushing herself upright.

“Hawks!” A figure was running towards her. Kaina rubbed her eyes. Why did that name sound so familiar?

“I’ve taken care of that villain.” She was a silver-haired woman with long, twitching rabbit ears. “Yo, Birdie, you ‘kay?”

“I-” Kaina began, startling at her own voice. It sounded hoarse, and lower than she expected.

The rabbit woman frowned.

“Yeah,” Kaina said, running her hand through her hair again. “Yeah, I, uh, I just, hit my head. Little dizzy.”

The rabbit woman narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been acting off lately.”

Oh, has she? Oh, wonderful. Great. Perfect.

The rabbit woman stared at her.

Shit, she said that out loud, didn’t she?

“Hawks, are you concussed?” The rabbit woman said. “Or drunk? Or both?”

“Uh,” Kaina paused. Hawks… she swore she’d heard that name before. “Yes?”

The image of a young, teenage boy – who looked barely older than 12, maybe 13 – appeared in her mind. She remembered, suddenly, where she’d heard the name “Hawks” before. It was many years ago (Tartarus swallowed up a lot of those, though), when she could still muster a smile. The boy had been trailing behind an agent in a suit. His handler, probably.

“Oh!” She’d said back then, putting on a dazzling smile. “Is this one of the heroes-in-training?”

“Yes.” The agent said, monotone. “Our most promising student. He’s shown a lot of potential. We’ll be tailing your patrols today.”

“What’s your name?” She said, peering at the boy. He looked a little shy, but he mustered up a smile. There were a pair of bright red wings poking out of his back.

“Hawks.” He’d said.

He was so young.

She unwittingly let out a squawk when she was lifted off the ground and slung over the woman’s shoulder. Her wings flailed outwards in shock. “Hey, what are you-!”

“There’s clearly something wrong with you.” The rabbit woman said. “Quit wriggling around.” The woman paused. “Is that blood on your arm? You tore your coat! What did you do?”

Before Kaina could respond, she let out a lamentful sigh, crouching down and leaping 30 feet into the air.

“Holy shit-!” Kaina screeched. “Have you ever dealt with concussed people before? The fuck?”

“That’s the Birdie that I know,” the woman smirked, hair whipping in the wind. Still, her voice was laced with worry. “You can fly, dumbass, when were you ever scared of heights?”

Despite her words, she landed on the rooftop, and began walking like a normal person.

They fell into silence.  

Hawks. She was in the body of that young hero-in-training from all those years ago. Another one of the HPSC’s child soldiers. Did they sell him the dream, too? Did they drag him away from any glimpses of a normal life and a happy family, all for a fake world? He was a pro-hero, now.

“Hey,” the rabbit woman spoke again. “Uh. Right. Concussion. How ‘you feeling?”

Kaina glared at her. “Perfect, actually. Never been better.”

The rabbit woman let out an awkward bark of a laugh. “Sure. Do you… remember… my name?”

Ah, shit. Kaina squinted at her, but she couldn’t recollect anybody with a rabbit quirk in her memories. Maybe, the woman was some sort of sidekick? She seemed to be pretty close to Hawks. Kaina gladly took the excuse, and faked brain damage.

“Nah.” She said light-heartedly. “Didn’t know my own name ‘til you mentioned it.”

“Holy shit, how hard did you hit your head?” The rabbit woman laughed, but her voice was dripping with concern.  She quickened her pace. “Okay. My hero name is Mirko, my actual name is Rumi Usagiyama, my quirk is Rabbit.”

Kaina eyed the rabbit ears. “I gathered that much. I’ve lost my memory, not my eyes.”

The woman, Mirko, barked a laugh. “And not your shitty sense of humour either.”

“Where are we going?” Kaina asked.

“My apartment.” Mirko said. “Gotta get that arm fixed up. And, well, whatever you do to treat someone with a concussion.”

Not a hospital, Kaina mused. Interesting.

“Hey,” she asked, carefully. “Am I on… the hero rankings?”

Mirko laughed. Laughed. “Oh my god, wait, I should be recording this. Hawks? Asking about his own ranking?”

“…what’s so funny?”

“I don’t know, you tell me, Mr. Number-Two-Hero.” Mirko drawled.

Kaina choked. “Number two? How old am I?”

“I know, right? So you admit to the hypocrisy yourself!” Mirko said. “I’m ranked Fifth, by the way, just so you don’t start thinking I’m some random extra.”

Kaina grimaced sheepishly.

“Wait.” Mirko said. “You’re joking about the age thing, right?”

“Oh, uh,” uhhhhh how far could Kaina run with this whole concussion thing? “yeah. Yeah, of course I know how old I am.” She decided not to push it, instead opting for some quick math in her head. She’d been in Tartarus for 8 years. She’d last seen the kid at least a year or two before… the incident, so… Hawks currently had to be around 22, or 23.

She blinked. That was… young, even for the specialised-HPSC-trained-child-soldiers. She only managed to break top 10 in her late twenties. And given the things that they made her do… how much blood did this kid have on his hands?

The world spun.

“Hey. Hey! Hawks, stay with me.” Mirko shouted, quickening her pace.

There was something sticky, trickling down her arms, both her arms, onto her hands, her fingers, (it was just her own blood, breathe, breathe, goddammit, breathe) and her hands were stained with red, fleshy, wet, iron, red, as the warmth slowly bled out of his or her or their or whatever-she-just-killed’s flesh and blood and their blood was still warm on her hands, a person, a person, she’d it’s just another mission, just, just-

“Breathe, Birdie!” Mirko yelled, skidding to a stop in front of a door and fishing something out of her pocket. “Dammit, dammit, turn, goddammit,” she muttered, before hissing, “screw it,” and kicking the door down.

Kaina felt herself collapse onto something soft and leathery. Leathery. The leather. Focus on the leather. She ran her hand over the texture of the fabric, shaking. Her hands were dry. The blood- Her hands were dry. Sticky with blood- her hands-

“Breathe with me,” there was something holding her (dry) hands, and she clung onto it, trembling. “Breathe. Come on.”

The voice, deep and soothing was counting. Breathe in. One. Two. Three. Kaina took a shaky gasp. The leather beneath her fingers. Breathe out. One. Two. Three. Her hands were dry. Breathe in. One. Two. Three. Distantly, she realised she was clinging onto Mirko’s hand. Mirko’s warm, very-much-alive hands. Yes. Breathe out. Alive.

Alive, alive, alive.

There was no blood on her hands.

“Hey,” Mirko said quietly. Kaina noticed that she had the prettiest red eyes. Not the empty, dead red of blood, no. A bright, living red. Red like roses. “I’m gonna go grab some antiseptic, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Mirko let go of Kaina’s hand, and it fell limply onto the couch.

By the time she got back, Lady Nagant had passed out.

Meanwhile, Hawks, who was no longer known as Keigo Takami, woke up to find himself locked up in a room full of white.

Chapter Text

With a crash, the mug shattered.

Hawks bolted upright, hissing at the steaming-hot liquid splattered over his flailing wings (oh, thank God, his wings). He was in an apartment. Rumi’s apartment. The room was dark, and the faint moonlight streaming through the edges of the window blinds casted pale, blue shadows across the room. He clenched his eyes shut, focusing on his feathers. They stilled as he thought of them, before unfurling outwards in the cramped apartment. With a quiet ruffle, they dispersed, each individual feather scattering throughout the room.

He could hear the feel the gentle hum of a washing machine in another room. He could feel the subtle tik-tick-tick of that clock mounted on a wall. He could sense the movements of a drowsy fly, drifting around the upper-left corner of the ceiling. The dimensions of the whole room came into place around him: the couch, the desks piled high with papers and random ornaments, the flowers by the windowsill…

Hawks opened his eyes as he felt somebody else enter the room. Rumi was standing in the doorway.

He looked down at the broken remains of the mug on the floor.

“Sorry,” he said.

They stood there, staring at each other for a moment.

With a faint whoosh, his wings reformed again, tucking neatly behind his back.

“I’ll clean that up,” he said quietly, kneeling down to examine the remains of the mug. There was a damp spot on the rug that smelled suspiciously of chamomile.

He expected the Rabbit Hero to make some sort of snide remark about his clumsiness, or at least insult him in some way, shape or form. Instead, she just stood there.

Hawks gingerly picked a piece of shattered ceramic off the floor. He looked up at Rumi. “Is there some sort of trash can anywhere or…?”

“Are you okay?” Rumi said abruptly.

Hawks paused, blinking, and then laughed. “What? Of course I am.” His wings shuffled slightly. Good. They were still there.

“I-” Rumi opened her mouth to say something, then paused, and decided against it. “I’ll come help you with that.”

In silence, they cleaned up the remains of the mug. The clock ticked by.

What had just happened? What the heck had just happened? The last thing Hawks remembered was running just another random villain – the fourth one that night – on his patrol with Mirko, some scruffy shoplifter or something along those lines, and then blacking out, before waking up in… somewhere.

He’d felt trapped. Oppressed. The room was tiny, painted a disgusting shade of way-too-white. His hands couldn’t move. His arms couldn’t move. He craned his neck back to see what was restraining them, only to be met with a face of bright, violet-magenta hair. He had staggered to his feet, only to realise that his wings were missing.

Understandably, he’d panicked.

It was like he’d woken up, only to realise that was missing his arms and his ears and his nose; he’d been stripped of not just an entire set of limbs, but also a means of sensory intake. Sure, Hawks had lived without wings before. It was inevitable, especially in a fight with a fire-related quirk. His feathers burned up like dry grass. But even without his feathers, he could feel the wings themselves. This was different.

His wings… his wings had been gone.

And what was up with the purple hair?

Get a hold of yourself, Hawks had hissed at himself, leaning against the back wall.

The fabric of his clothes was uncomfortable. He examined his clothes, and- holy shit what the fuck why was he a woman?

He was hyperventilating at that point. The door to his cell – that’s what it was, a cell – creaked open, and two masked guards ran into the room.

“What’s wrong with her this time?” One of them said.

The other one shrugged. They stood there, as Hawks struggled to breathe.
“Stop it. Hey, calm down.” The second one said.

That’s right. Hawks spat at himself. What kind of hero are you, to be so damn pathetic like this? Just breathe. He was tearing up. Quit crying. Breathe.

He dragged in one long, shaking breath after the next.

“I kinda… feel bad for her.” The first guard said. “This… isn’t the first time this has happened. Shouldn’t they do something about it?”

He forced himself to stop shaking. At this point, they were already leaving the room. “Don’t sympathise with anybody in here.” The second guard said gruffly. “They may look pitiful, but they’re cold-blooded murderers or rapists or some shit like that. Whatever they’re going through, they deserve it.”

The door was halfway closed, before Hawks called out. “Wait! Wait,” he shakily heaved himself to his feet. “There’s been some sort of mistake, I’m not-!”

The door slammed shut.

He was alone. He was trapped. He was… a villain. He looked down at himself (trying to ignore… certain parts of his chest). A cascade of purple hair fell in front of his eyes. The purple hair. The prison cell. The restrained arms. All the pieces fell into place, one by one.

He was, somehow, somehow, in the body of Lady Nagant.

The very same hero who’d brutally murdered the former president of the HPSC in cold blood. The very same hero who’d been locked up in Tartarus for her crimes.

He was-

“Hawks!” Rumi said, shaking him a little more aggressively than she intended to.

“Yeah?” He replied, plastering on an innocent expression.

“You…” Rumi said, voice trailing off, before declaring, “you’re not okay.”

Hawks let out a faint laugh. “What makes you say that? I feel wonderful.”

Rumi pursed her lips. “Do you… remember what happened, last night?”

Hawks swallowed. Well, he’d found himself locked up in Tartarus last night, but he doubted that was what Rumi was asking. “…what happened last night?”

He looked up at her, only to find that he hated that expression on her face. Concern? Pity? No, no, whatever happened last night had clearly spooked the Rabbit Hero, and he wasn’t going to cause any more trouble for her than he already had.

Rumi opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off with a laugh.

“Thanks for worrying about me, Mirko, but I’m fine, really, I am.” He stood. “I’m sorry about the mug. And, also, waking you up at like,” he glanced at the clock, “3 in the morning. But I feel a lot better now. No need for any more concern.” His wings shuffled again. “Anyways, I should get going-”

“You didn’t remember your own name, you dumbass bird.” Rumi said.

Hawk paused. “What?”

“We were fighting some villain,” Rumi continued, “then you suddenly start falling from the sky like you’d forgotten how to fly, and then I find you, bloodied in some alleyway, and you don’t remember my name, or your name, or, fuck, even your own damn ranking, even though you’re always rubbing it in my face all the freaking time. Of course I’m worried about you!”

Rumi stood, fists clenched and brows furrowing. “Then I carry you here, since you’re clearly not in any condition to go running off on your own, then you have a- a panic attack and pass out, and-”

“I’m sorry-” Hawks said, stepping back.

“Don’t you dare fucking apologise!” Rumi shouted.

They fell into a tense silence.

Hawks noticed the flowers on the windowsill were quivering slightly in the wind. The window had been left open behind the blinds, just a little, and they swayed subtly. Shadows danced across the floor.

“It’s just- I,” Rumi let out a sigh, bringing a hand to her temple. “Oh, God, did I just shout at you? Shit. Sorry. Wow. I’m kinda bad at this-”

“Rumi-” Hawks started, but she barrelled on.

“-listen, birdbrain, I am your friend. I am worried about you. And… that look on your face, last night.” She paused, gaze flickering to the ground. “It was… I never want to see that look ever again. It was like you’d lost all the light in your eyes, Birdie. You were exhausted. It… it scared me.”

She took a deep breath. “Look, you and I both know… my… opinions, towards the HPSC, and I know they’re your superiors, but seriously, Hawks, if they’re overworking you or something, just tell me, and I’ll go, like, bash their heads in or something.”

Rumi attempted a little laugh, only to find that Hawks looked considerably paler.

Berserk or Planned? President Found Assassinated in HPSC Headquarters!
A Villain All Along? Lady Nagant Discovered to Have Ties with a Famous Villain Group.
We Can All Rest Easy! Lady Nagant Apprehended for her Crimes, with a Lifetime Sentence in Tartarus.

“Please… don’t do that.” Hawks said, forcing a grin.

Rumi barked another awkward, unsure laugh. “Right. But. You know what I mean, Hawks. Take a break. No one’s going to blame you if you do.”

Hawks chuckled quietly. “Right. No one, but everyone who’s relying on me to save them. To protect them. To uphold justice and order in society. Mirko, you and I both know that I can’t just… run off because I’m a little tired.”

They fell into silence again.

“Right.” Hawks said. “I… should get going. I’ve leached off your hospitality for too long, uh, I should, like, head home. Also, uh, you should go back to sleep.”

He got up and turned to leave.

“Hawks, wait-!” Rumi said.

He didn’t slow down.

Rumi sighed. “You tore your jacket. My sewing skills aren’t the best, but I tried by best to fix it.” She pointed at his weathered, brown flight jacket, draped over a chair.

Hawks slipped it on, flexing his wings. He paused by the doorway, turning back. “Thanks. So much. I’m sorr-” Rumi narrowed her eyes at him, and he corrected himself, “-I’m really grateful to have you as a friend.”

She cracked a smile. “No problem, Birdie.”

Then, with a flap of his wings, he disappeared into the night sky.

A week passed, and Hawks stayed as, well, Hawks. There was no more of that randomly-waking-up-in-Tartarus-as-a-woman-for-some-reason, although the memory hung heavy in his mind for the entire week. Plus, he was too busy to dwell on it for too long. Between managing his own agency, keeping up on patrols, trying to infiltrate the League of Villains, and being the effortlessly charming hero the media portrayed him as, he barely had any free time.

Mirko was right, and they both knew it. He was being overworked. But what could he do about it?

Speaking of the League of Villains, he’d looked down at his phone only to find another notification from Dabi, telling him he’d “better pull up to Monopoly night” if he “didn’t want to become a fried chicken.” Hawks sighed. He’d been trying to infiltrate them for months now, and the only events he’d been invited to were silly game nights like that. Who thought sending the number-two-hero to infiltrate villains would be a good idea?

He typed up a quick reply, sliding his phone back into his pocket, only for it to buzz again. This time, the notification was from his calendar.

Press Conference in 15 minutes

Oh, right. Hawks grimaced as he watched another chunk of his time disappear. The conference itself only began at 10:30am, a whole hour and 45 minutes away. However, he always had to show up early, get everything settled, shake a bunch of hands, and watch idly as a team of people fretted over his hair.

He was greeted with a swarm of flashing cameras, and quickly escorted into the building.

“Hawks.” A brisk voice said as he idly spun on his chair. He looked up to be greeted with a woman in dark sunglasses, and a sleek grey suit. His handler.

“Yes, ‘mam.” Hawks sat up straighter, nodding in greeting.

She gave him a measured smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you doing another press conference. It’s been a while since the public has heard your voice.”

“Of course.” Hawks nodded.

“Remember to keep our best interests in mind.” She placed a hand on the shoulder of his chair. “Especially after that Nomu attacked you and Endeavor. That raised a lot of… concern, in regards to our competence, and since our competence is your competence, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Of course not, ‘mam.” Hawks shook his head.

“Perfect.” She smiled again. “I, along with the rest of us, will be watching. We’re excited to see what our Number Two hero has to say to reassure the public.”

She walked off, as smoothly as she came.

Hawks eyed his hair in the mirror, still spinning slightly from left to right in his chair. It was the kind of flawlessly messy that only existed in either romance novels or, in his case, after half an hour and a flock of fretting stylists. Resisting his urge to run his hand through it, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He was Hawks. He was confident, charming, driven by the noble goal of helping others. He was Hawks. He knew what he was doing, and everything would be okay because he was there. He was Hawks. He was the Number Two Hero, and-

“…and I invite, the Wing Hero, Hawks!”

Greeted by a world of flashing lights and clicking camera shutters, he stepped onto the podium. He waved, flashed a smile, and the crowd burst into cheers. The applause died down.

“Let’s get straight to it, then.” The host said, as a journalist stepped up with a mic.

“I must address something that has been on everyone’s minds.” The journalist said. “Two weeks ago, in Kyushu, you were with the Number One Hero, Endeavor, when you were both attacked by a Nomu. It also appeared like Endeavor was struggling against the Nomu in a way that All Might never did. From your position, what do you think the future for heroes and civilians alike look like after All Might’s retirement?”

Hawks paused, thinking. “Well. I believe that All Might really pushed the definition of hero to a higher level. He was an epitome that everybody looked up to and chased after, and because of that, we all reached a new height together. Just because All Might has retired does not mean that the fire he sparked in all our hearts has disappeared. He left an impactful legacy on our whole society, and that legacy will carry us forwards, to new heights.”

“Thank you.” The journalist nodded, before another one stepped up.

“Nomu have appeared before, and are affiliated with the League of Villains, correct?” The second journalist asked.

“Yes.” Hawks nodded.

“However,” they continued, “this type of Nomu hadn’t appeared before. It appeared to serve a larger threat.”

“I’d like to interject here,” Hawks said pleasantly. “The Nomu that we encountered at Kyushu was indeed stronger than other Nomu we have faced up till today. However, it had one key element: surprise, both in its appearance and its level of power. That surprise is gone now. The HPSC has been working hard over the past two weeks looking into the origins of the Nomu, and we’re certain that a Nomu of that level must have taken a lot of resources on the League of Villain’s part, and, although due to confidentiality I cannot disclose the HPSC’s operations, it likely will not be appearing again.”

Big smile, Hawks, he thought to himself, no one will question you if you sound confident. The sad part was that it was true. He took a sip of water.

“Thank you,” the journalist smiled. “It appears that you’d answered my question already! I saw that you and the Number One hero were seen together that day. Are you and Endeavor going to form an alliance?”

The press conference dragged on, just endless question after question after question.

Finally, the host, a brunette woman with her hair in an elegant ponytail, tapped on the mic, addressing the crowd. “I’m afraid we’re almost out of time, so I have some final questions for Hawks to wrap things up.”

She turned towards him. “Hawks, your resume is stuffed to the brim. You founded your own hero agency at the age of, what was it, 18?”

“Correct,” Hawks nodded.

“Ha, as soon as it was legal for you to do so! Eager, weren’t you?” She laughed. “Successful too! In only 4 years, you have risen to the spot of Number Two hero, all while running one of the most sought-after agencies. I’m sure you’ve been asked this before, but what motivated you to do all this?”

Hawks smiled. “Thank you, thank you. Ha, that’s a good question, but also an easy one. I’ve always known I wanted to help people. Deep in my heart. As a child, I remembered watching heroes like Endeavor, like All Might, on television, and wishing I could be like them. I wanted to be somebody that others could rely on. I wanted there to be less pain, less fear, and less suffering in the world. Not only that, but as someone blessed with a powerful quirk,” he unfurled his wings, and the crowd “ooo”ed, “I also believe it is my duty to use this ability to give back to the world that has supported me and brought me to this position so far.”

“I suppose you are a prime example, no, the prime example of every childhood dream coming true!” The host said. “That leads me to my final question-!”

Hawks never heard her finish. He was abruptly hit by a wave of nausea. Startled by the suddenness of it all, he braced himself against the podium as subtly as he could.

It was too late.

The world around him spun into darkness.

What the fuck? Hawks thought. What had happened? Had his drink been spiked? No, no, he was still thinking clearly. How… why… what…?

He forced his eyes open as quickly as he possibly could, only to be met with glaring white. He blinked rapidly as his vision adjusted. It wasn’t the glaring white of flashing cameras. It wasn’t the glaring white of the large electric lights on the ceilings of the conference room. No. No.

It was the glaring white of too-white, too-small cell, in the highest-security prison in all of Japan.

“Shit.” Hawks said.

Chapter Text

“-inspire them?”

“What?” she croaked, but it wasn’t her voice. It was a man’s voice.

The world blurred, like a camera struggling to focus.

She was Hawks again. The bodyswapping wasn't a one-time thing. Great. And this time, she wasn't in some quiet street by herself. Quite the contrary. 

Lady Nagant gazed outwards at an all-too-familiar scene – the flashing cameras, the clamouring reporters, the mic hovering in front of her face – and snapped to attention.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she took a sip of water, “could you repeat that please? I didn’t quite catch that.”

The crowd murmured.

It was disgusting how quickly she slipped back into that persona of hers. She looked around. The room itself was modern-looking, with oak-coloured walls and a sleek wooden ceiling split by rows of bright, bluish lights. There was an awfully large cluster of journalists, but then again, Hawks was the Number Two Hero. He must be popular. 

Loitering near the back of the room was a remarkably plain-looking woman, blending in with the background. It was the kind of average corporate person that would be glossed over and treated as just part of the surroundings. Which was exactly why Kaina didn’t gloss over her. There was something off about the stillness of that lady’s posture, and the odd way she was watching Kaina… oh, of course. It was one of those HPSC shits.

“Alright, then.” The person Kaina assumed to be the host said, snapping her out of her thoughts. “To wrap up this press conference, what would piece of advice would you give to your younger self, and by extension, all the young, aspiring heroes out there?”

Lady Nagant had rehearsed this a million times. Speeches, interviews, any sort of public appearance, even an Instagram post, all of that was carefully scripted. Of course, when it came to press conferences, it was impossible to predict every question that was asked, but there were key points that she’d memorised and beats that she had to hit. The HPSC made her do a lot of training, shooting her the most random or absurd or controversial question, and watching her twist it into “heroes are great and because we’re here everyone will be safe and happy” and “all hail the HPSC” or something like that. It was almost fun.

“Oh, sure,” she said instinctively. “If I had to say one thing to my younger self, I’d tell myself that…”

She trailed off. What the fuck was she saying? Never give up, motivate yourself with thoughts of those you love and wish to protect? If you work hard, you can achieve anything? Anyone can become a hero?

What bullshit.

What bullshit.

“Hawks?” The host prompted.

Eight years in Tartarus, and she was still acting as the HPSC’s muppet. No. Not again.

The lady in the back frowned, ever so slightly, and that was all the motivation that Kaina needed.

“I’ll have to take a few steps back,” she said. “As you already know, I entered the professional Hero career at an incredibly young age, and I’m sure many of those who are listening are too. I was inspired by those that I saw on television. Heroes were everywhere: on the news, on social media, in commercials and in merchandise, all sparkly and powerful and noble. They wanted to protect innocents and make people smile, and I wanted to do that too! I set off on this path, I said ‘yes’ to this lifestyle, because I was chasing what I saw on that television. I just wish that I could have known the whole picture. Hero work is hard. Of course it’s hard, but it’s not just about being good at fighting or having a noble heart. All of that is important, yeah, but in reality, a lot of it depends on, well, other factors.”

She paused, taking a breath. The host looked a little confused.

“For example,” Kaina continued, “how well you can give a speech, or how pretty you look, or how flashy your quirk is, or whether or not you fit the society’s definition of a ‘hero.’ Over the years, I’ve come to find that society’s definition of ‘hero’ is a warped one. The Hero career isn’t about being noble. It’s about looking noble. And, a lot of people can’t take that path, not because they aren’t good enough at being a hero, but instead because they don’t fit our society’s black-and-white perception of what a ‘hero’ is.”

Lady Nagant paused again, taking a sip of water. She almost laughed at how livid that HPSC bastard looked.

“That’s great-” the host looked like she was at a loss for words.

“I’m not done.” Kaina said. “To my past self, and to all the children yearning to become heroes: your perception of hero work is exactly what it looks like. ‘Sparkly’ and ‘idealised.’ I don’t wish to dissuade anyone from taking this path, but too many times I’ve watched bright-eyed peers, filled to the brim with everything a hero should stand for, end up twisted and squashed down and quelled by the system. Too many times, I’ve watched somebody stray from their values in an act of desperation to gain the tantalising popularity that is a pre-requisite for success.”

That was her job, wasn’t it? Cleaning up all the failures that the system spat out. It might have been Hawks’ too for all she knew.

“Never forget why you’re fighting to be a hero. Otherwise, it can be far too easy to be caught up in the media and the marketing, and just as easy to get discarded by a toxic system that demands flawless, unrealistic-”

“That’s enough-!” The host said.

“-perfection.” Kaina finished, but only she heard that last word. Her mic had been shut off.

The crowd was dead silent.

She stepped back from the podium.

“Thank you for that… moving closing speech.” The host said, laughing nervously. That HPSC lady was walking towards them.

Kaina turned, stepped off the podium, and fled.

The Rabbit Hero drove her back to her apartment, which was a relief, considering she had no idea where her apartment was.

They didn’t talk much. Kaina suspected that that may have been her fault.

“Hey,” Mirko did say, right as Kaina was about to exit the car. “Nice closing speech.” She flashed a grin. “Didn’t know you had it in you. You’re always parroting whatever those snooty government folks want you to say.”

“Thanks.” Kaina beamed. She decided that she liked Mirko.

Flinging her (or, Hawks’, she supposed) brown flight jacket onto a chair, she cleared out as much space as she could in the living room. Hawks’ wings unfurled behind her.

Interesting, Karina thought. They felt like another pair of arms. How did this body-swapping thing even work? It appeared that she kept all the muscle memory that Hawks had, otherwise she doubted she’d have this adept of a control over the feathers hovering in the air. The evident lack of a sniper rifle in her right elbow was less trippy compared to the first time.

At her command, the red feathers dispersed, spun in a circle around her, before reattaching onto her back. Tentatively, she reached out and ran her finger down one of the feathers. It was deadly sharp, yet remarkably flexible. What the hell was this made of? A material chemist would be fascinated.

Kaina realised that she should probably figure out who she was, and catch up on the past eight or so years of news. She helped herself to a glass of water, opened up Hawks’ laptop (thank God for Touch ID), and fell into the Wikipedia rabbit-hole.

First, she looked up the hero rankings. There were a lot of new names on the stage. She remembered Endeavor, the current Number One hero, from her time as a Pro-Hero. She never expected him to rise that high. She always thought he was way too obsessed with beating All Might, and read off as too cold and harsh, to become the pillar of Hero Society. Maybe he went through character development or something. Speaking of that, what happened to All Might?

Kaina’s skimming was rudely interrupted by her phone buzzing. That HPSC lady was calling her. She hung up and muted the contact.

Suddenly, she had an idea.

She created a notes document on Hawks’ phone:

Communication

 

Body-swap counter: 2

 

6/12

 

Hii! I’m Kaina Tsutsumi. I do not know why this is happening, but I am randomly waking up in your body, and I suspect that you are randomly waking up in mine.

 

I understand that this is not ideal. However, I don’t know how to stop this, so for the time being, I will be keeping a record of everything that I do on this document.

 

12:00pm: finished off that Press Conference. Rabbit Hero drove me to your apartment.

She returned to Wikipedia.

Seven hours and a plate of microwaved onigiri she found in the fridge later, Kaina was interrupted by Hawks’ phone buzzing again. She shut the laptop, deciding that she’d done enough reading for that day. She was updated on everything she figured she needed to know about the past few years, including any prominent heroes and villains. Strangely, the Wikipedia pages had oddly specific details in the “Trivia” sections. She did not need to know the specific length of All Might’s arm (what???), or the strange details about Eraserhead’s two cats (“one ginger, one black, but the ginger one is quite feisty. It likes dried tuna, though.” – like, who puts that on Wikipedia?). All well.

She picked on the phone, expecting the HPSC again, only to be greeted by an unknown number.

“Hello?” She said.

“Hey,” an unknown male voice said. “Are you pulling up, or not?”

“Pulling up?” She said. “To what?”

There was a lot of scuffling over the phone, coupled with “give me the phone!” and then “fuck off, I’m talking to the stupid bird” and then “oh come on” and then, directed at her, “there’s no way you forgot about Monopoly Night.”

“Um.” Kaina said. “Monopoly Night.”

“Oh my gosh, you-!” More scuffling. Then, a young girl’s voice yelled, “you forgot about Monopoly Night? I’m going to kill-!” An older, tired voice cut her off. “I’m sure Hawks is very busy, Toga, cut him some slack. Dammit, why the hell did you forget about Monopoly Night?”

Kaina blinked, taken aback. “Sorry…?”

“Ugh, I swear, give me the phone, or I’ll-!” More scuffling. The first voice returned. “Sorry about that. Are you coming to Monopoly Night, or not?” Then, after a brief pause, “there is a correct answer.”

“Oh, uh, sure. I don’t have any plans.” Kaina said. She never considered Hawks’ social life before. Perhaps these were his friends?“Where are you guys?”

“I’m sending you the address.” The first voice said, before immediately hanging up.

Kaina plugged the address into Maps. It was a 45-minute walk away from the apartment. Hesitantly, she flexed her wings.

15 minutes later, she crash-landed into yet another alleyway.

“Heavens, Pretty Bird, don’t you know how to be inconspicuous?” A familiar voice said from the shadows.

Kaina looked up. “My bad, I’m just-”

She did a double take, eyes widening. Because she was either actually concussed this time, or she was staring at one of the most wanted villains in all of Japan.

“What?” Dabi, a member of the League of Villains with, according to Wikipedia, over thirty confirmed kills, squinted at her. “Why are you staring at me like that? Do I have, like, something on my face, or what?”

“Not at all, no.” Kaina stood, brushing the dirt off her jacket, although those staples all over his face were unnerving.

It was taking all of her willpower to act as nonchalant as possible. The Number Two Hero. Was being invited. To play Monopoly. With a highly wanted, incredibly dangerous villain group. What was Hawks doing, meddling with villains like this?

Dabi stalked off into the shadows, and cautiously, Kaina followed.

They winded along the back alleys of an abandoned complex, accompanied by only the sounds of dripping water and their own footsteps. Kaina could see remarkably well in the darkness. Maybe it was a hawk thing.

Finally, Dabi pushed through a creaky wooden door, and they stepped into a cramped room. Kaina was greeted by cheers. A teenage girl with dusty-blonde hair tied up into two messy buns ran at her, grinning widely with a mouthful of sharp teeth. Himiko Toga. A figure in a full grey-and-black body suit dragged the girl back. That would be Jin Bubaigawara, or Twice. There was a lizard-man sitting at a table, drumming his fingers impatiently as he fiddled with a set of dice. Spinner. Most incredulously, there was a tattered set of Monopoly sprawled over the table.

“Hawks,” Dabi said, “is very sorry for being late.”

He glared at her, smoke seeping from his fingers. “Right?”

“Of course.” Kaina nodded rapidly.

“Yay!” The girl gave her a terrifying grin. “We can finally start!”

“Come on, Toga, it’s only been like, 20 minutes.” Twice sighed, shaking his head. “You kept us waiting here for hours!”

Kaina sat down at the table, inserting herself awkwardly between to Toga and Spinner. There were a set of small, plastic figurines on the Monopoly board: a tiny candle for Dabi, a gecko for Spinner, a 3D-printed “2” for Twice, and a cat for (presumably) Toga. Gingerly, she picked up the final piece on the “Go” tile. It was a little bird.

“Is this… mine?” Kaina looked at it, fascinated.

“No shit.” Dabi glared at her. “You didn’t bash your head so hard that you’d forgotten how to play Monopoly, did you?”

Twice grinned. ““I made them all!”

“Hmph.” Toga crossed her arms, pouting. “I wanted the little birdie. My favourite animal is a birdie! A sparrow! Cute, and adorable, and red! Just like you. Your wings are so pretty, Hawks. They’re red, just like blood!”

Kaina placed the piece back down, laughing nervously at Toga. “It’s really cute. Very well made, Twice. Oh, and Toga, thank you for letting me have the bird.”

They both beamed.

These villains seemed to be completely fine with Hawks’ presence. In fact, they seemed to know each other pretty well. Could it be… could it be that Hawks was betraying the HPSC?

“Hey, uh,” she began, but faltered. How could she ask this without garnering suspicion?

“What?” Dabi deadpanned.

She simply settled on, “Who’s going first?”

“I’ll go first,” Dabi said, rolling the dice and reaching out to move his candle forwards. As his fingers brushed onto the piece, it lit up with a tiny, blue flame.

And then, they played Monopoly.

It was just that. Just Monopoly. Just 5 people, throwing around paper money and bickering and shouting at each other and… having fun. Kaina… was having fun.

When was the last time she’d laughed like this? When was the last time she even played a game like this? When was the last time she’d hung out with friends like this? Not while she was a hero. She knew a lot of people, but the nature of her relations to the HPSC prevented her from making any friends that she could open up to. And certainly not when she was in Tartarus. Sure, according to the Wikipedia pages, she was hanging around with deadly villains, but then again, according to the Wikipedia pages, wasn’t she a deadly villain too?

“Come on, come on, come on,” she whispered as she shook the dice within her palm. “Give me a 9!”

The dice clattered onto the table, rolling for a while before settling on…

“Fuck!” She hissed, as Spinner leapt to his feet.

“Ha!” He laughed. “Take that!”

Kaina reluctantly nudged her bird figurine onto the “HPSC Headquarters” square, which was owned by Spinner.

“Pay up,” he said gleefully.

Kaina scoffed as she sifted through her pile of money. “Come on, I was so close as well! I don’t get it, Spinner. If owned that shitty piece of land, I would’ve burned it to the ground already.”

She laughed, but to her surprise, everybody else remained silent. Hurriedly, Kaina cut herself off. “Ah… did I say something… wrong, or, or what?”

“No, no,” Spinner shook his head, peering at her. “Not that, no. It’s rather…”

“You should’ve told us that you hated the HPSC sooner!” Twice butt in. “I mean, we’ve been hanging out for a while now, but to be honest, I was never really convinced that you really wanted to join us until today. That closing speech at that press conference today?” He shook his head. “Incredulous. Worst speech I’ve ever heard!”

“Haha, you guys watched that?” Kaina said, flustered.

“Who hasn’t watched it?” Twice stared at her, dumbfounded. “Dude, you’ve gone viral!”

“I mean, usually whenever you make any sort of public address, it’s pretty popular,” Spinner shrugged, “but Twice is right. You’re trending on, like, everything. It’s just like with Stain, except this time, it was a Pro-Hero speaking. Not just any Pro-Hero either, but the Number Two Hero himself!”

Kaina whipped out her phone, typing “hawks press conference” into the search bar. Holy shit, they were right. Clips of her final words were everywhere, tagged with #lethawksfinish, referencing the way the host had cut her off.

“Ah,” she said, scrolling on her phone. “I… wasn’t aware of that.”

“It was crazy how they turned off your mic halfway through. It might not have made as much of an impact if they didn’t do that.” Twice shook his head.

“If I’m going to be completely honest with you, Hawks,” Spinner said. “Listening to you say those words made me… happy. As a heteromorph, the ‘dark side’ of hero society is just my everyday life. I’ve always been treated as some sort of villain because I looked like one, and, well,  it always felt like I had no other choice. And, all the other heteromorphs I know feel the same way. It just perpetuates a stereotype, and nobody in power addresses the issue. Until you.”

He smiled at her. “So, thank you.”

“Yeah. It’s nice for us outcasts to be even just acknowledged by the heroes, who usually are so uptight about maintaining an image of perfection.” Twice nodded.

“That’s what we are, aren’t we?” Kaina laughed. “Outcasts. The discarded scraps of a world of perfection and glamour.”

“‘We’?” Dabi spoke up, blue eyes narrowing. “Well, I fail to see how the Number Two Hero is any sort of outcast or discarded scrap.” His voice twisted into a sneer. “Certainly, you’re the one who’s benefitting from all of this?”

Right, right, she wasn’t Lady Nagant in their eyes. She was still the Wing Hero, Hawks. “The HPSC conscripted me into their program when I was,” she paused for a second. She was 12 when she was approached with the offer, but Hawks was around 12 when she’d first met him, which meant… when was he even scouted? Had he been raised with the sole purpose of becoming a hero? Disgust boiled in her stomach. Eventually, she settled on, “younger than I should have been. I didn’t understand anything, other than that heroes were good and I wanted to be like them. Then, it just became my whole life, and slowly but surely I discovered that all that shit on TV is just… lies and facades. And I’m just a cog in the machine maintaining that facade. Dabi?”

“Yeah?” He said.

“30 confirmed kills, right?” She asked.

“Hm. Confirmed, yeah.” He said. “What are you getting at?”

“How many kills do you think I have, that the HPSC doesn’t want you to know about?” Kaina laughed mirthlessly, before stretching her wings out and slumping onto the floor. “It’s overwhelming, you know? Buying into a lie, only to be forced to spread that lie by doing dirty work in the shadows.”

She heaved herself back up, looking around. “Now, whose turn is it?”

Everyone was staring at her blankly.

“Is that why you brought me Jeanist’s corpse so easily?” Dabi said eventually.

Kaina had no idea what the fuck he was talking about. “Uh.”

Dabi frowned, brows furrowing. “I put that task up as some sort of impossible task. Heroes, you, are always so… against killing. And then you went ahead and just… did it. Is it because… does the HPSC make you….”

“Um.” Kaina blinked.

Sensing the awkwardness, Twice butt in. “Hey, I think it’s Toga’s turn.”

“You haven’t paid my rent yet!” Spinner squawked at Kaina, and Kaina hurriedly shoved the paper money into his hands.

Speaking of Toga, the girl had been awfully quiet throughout the whole conversation. She’d just been watching Kaina with the intensity of a hawk watching its prey (pun not intended). Kaina gave her a little wave, but she just kept staring, eyes narrowed, wordlessly rolling the dice and pushing her cat figuring across the board.

In a flash, the night was over. They didn’t talk about the HPSC again specifically, but Spinner and Twice, and eventually Toga, did share a couple funny (and tragic) stories from their own lives. Dabi didn’t talk about himself specifically – (“what even is your tragic backstory?” “What tragic backstory?” “Oh, come on, Dabi, we’re family here, you can share!” “Ha, he’s always like that, secretive and nonchalant. Hey, being nonchalant doesn’t make you cool, you know?” “Shut it. My tragic backstory is for me to know, and you to find out.” “I swear, that bastard just spawned one day or something, fully grown and all.” “Oh fuck you-”) – but added onto a lot of what the others said. God, it was so amazing, having people she could vent to. People who she knew wouldn’t turn her back on her, call her a psychopath, and throw her in Tartarus, because they were just like her.

So, when eventually, the night wrapped up and Twice swept the pieces back into the box, Kaina felt a pang of sadness.

“Hey, this was really fun.” She grinned.

“Glad you enjoyed it.” Twice beamed. “I hated it.”

“Don’t be late next time.” Dabi rolled his eyes.

Kaina stepped out the door, when somebody grabbed onto her arm, and pulled her aside.

It was Himiko Toga.

“Toga,” Kaina began, but Toga cut her off.

“You’re not Hawks.” She said.

Kaina froze. “What are you talking about, I’m-”

“You are not Hawks.” She said again. “I know a lot about being other people. Wearing different faces. It’s clear to me that you are not Hawks.”

“Oh.” Kaina said. She didn’t know what else to say.

“I like Hawks,” Toga continued, “but, I think I like you more. Whoever you are. You’re nice. You don’t expect me to be normal. You’re… one of us. Hawks isn’t. So, I like you. But you are still not Hawks.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Kaina sighed. “No, I’m not. Are you… going to tell anyone?”

“Nope.” Toga said. “Wait. Do you want me to?”

“No, no, no,” Kaina shook her head. “See, uh, sometimes, Hawks is Hawks. And sometimes I am Hawks. And I don’t know why, and it’s weird.”

The girl thought for a moment. “Yeah. That’s weird. Well, I hope next time you come over, you are Hawks. See ya, not-Hawks.”

She waved, and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Kaina said. “Since, you’re good at being other people, do you have any advice for me?”

The girl cocked her head to a side. “Hm. Maybe start with getting to know them better.”

Communication

 

Body-swap counter: 2

 

6/12 

Hii! I’m Kaina Tsutsumi. I do not know why this is happening, but I am randomly waking up in your body, and I suspect that you are randomly waking up in mine.

 

I understand that this is not ideal. However, I don’t know how to stop this, so for the time being, I will be keeping a record of everything that I do on this document.

 

12:00pm: finished off that Press Conference. Rabbit Hero drove me to your apartment.

 

7:30pm - 11:00pm: Monopoly Night with the League of Villains. I have… so many questions. I talked to them quite a bit. I think they liked me. They mentioned that they didn’t trust you very much before today, though. Himiko Toga realised I wasn’t you. She isn’t going to tell anyone, but I think if we want this to last, I need to get to know you better. We don’t really have an option, either. I’ve worked with the HPSC, and if they find out that I’ve been escaping Tartarus through your body, they will drag you down along with me.

 

Chapter Text

That night, as the guards did their routinely patrol, they were greeted with laughter. Pleasant, mirthful laughter, bordering on childish giggling, entirely out of place in these bleak halls. Lady Nagant had already stopped by the time they peered into her cell, but they could see her, languidly cross-legged in a corner, giggling to herself.

Kaina gazed into the too-white walls, and saw Toga, grinning, and Twice, scratching his head, flustered, and Spinner, laughing at one of her bad jokes, and Dabi, trying to hide a smirk.

She smiled.

Hawks woke up to hundreds of notifications, 62 missed called from “whiny government bitch”, and the urgent need to take a piss.

After taking a quick shower (Lady Nagant didn’t do that either, which… Hawks didn’t know whether to be pissed or grateful for), he renamed his handlers contact back to what it originally was and immediately checked social media for whatever the fuck Lady Nagant did in that press conference.

He was trending on Twitter. He was viral on Instagram. Just over a minute of Lady Nagant speaking through his mouth had blown up on… everything. As he listened to his speech, one thing became clear in his mind: unless he came up with something, and fast, he was one very cooked bird.

There was a new document on his phone, titled “Communication.” He skimmed through it as he launched himself out his window and towards the Hero Public Safety Commission Headquarters as fast as humanly possible, before flying straight into a billboard.

What? He gawked at his phone as he oriented himself with a few haphazard flaps of his wings. Lady Nagant had met with the League of Villains. And… they liked her? Which, by extension, meant that… they liked him? The League of Villains actually warmed up to her? Even if she was wearing the face of the number two hero?

As he skidded to a stop in front of a stoic, grey-blue skyscraper with the letters ‘HPSC’ emblazoned on its side, a plan gradually began forming in his mind. Yes. He could work with this. He had to work with this.

--

The halls inside of the building reminded him of Tartarus: too-white and too-clean. They should really invest in some house plants.

His handler glared at him. “Madam President will see you now.”

The president was standing in the back of the room, silhouette framed by floor-to-ceiling windows. She gazed downwards at cars coming and going. They looked comically small. Like insects. Or toys.

“I can explain, I promise-!” Hawks said, as the door shut behind him.

“Hawks.” Madam President cut him off.

He bowed his head. “Yes?”

She sighed, turning around to look at him. “I’m proud of you.”

Hawks wasn’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that. “What?”

“We’ve always had high expectations for you, ever since we rescued you from that pathetic household.” She smiled, soft and empty. “You’ve always lived up to those expectations. Always. Without fail. No matter what task it was, you always executed it flawlessly. The public adored you. We adored you. You were truly the definition of what it meant to be a hero.”

“Thank you,” Hawks said, shifting uneasily.

“So, could you care to tell us,” she said, eyes narrowing, “what was going through your mind yesterday?”

“I had to do something to truly convince the League of Villains that I believed in their cause.” Hawks lied. “They were still skeptical of me.”

The president frowned. “Best Jeanist didn’t convince them?”

A tense silence fell over them. The president’s eyes narrowed.

“No.” Hawks said.

“You said that it would, Hawks,” the president said, walking towards him slowly. “We’ve sacrificed so much already, just to make sure you can complete this mission. Do you know how important this is? Millions of lives, Hawks, millions of lives are on the stake.”

“Yes, ‘mam.” Hawks nodded.

“Do you know how much trouble you’ve already caused us?” She continued. “There’s only so much we can blame on AI deep-faking and the sort, but we’re working hard on it. We’ve been working very hard salvaging your image. Do you know what the people are comparing you to? They’re calling you ‘Stain’, Hawks. You, the top of the top, a flawless hero, compared to nothing but a dirty, low-life criminal.”

Something inside his chest stung, and he shrank, ever-so-slightly, back into himself. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to have said all that.”

“Do you know why we asked you to infiltrate the League?” The president said. “We knew that you were loyal, Hawks. We could rely on you to retrieve the precious information that could save this country.” She sighed. “We lowered our surveillance of you because we trusted you. Tell me, Hawks, was I wrong? Have these villains really dragged you down?”

His blood ran cold. “Wait! It worked. It worked. After that press conference,” he thought back to all those missed calls, “Dabi asked for a meeting. It was why I couldn’t respond to your calls. Twice, Toga, Spinner, and Mr. Compress were there. They trusted me more, and they believed that the opinions I’d shared in the press conference were my actual feelings.”

“Prove it.” The president glared at him.

Hawks stammered to a stop.

That was the worst part, wasn’t it? He had no idea what had happened during that ‘meeting.’ For all he knew, all they did was play Monopoly.

“I see.” The president sighed again. “Despite everything, you’re still our most valuable, and powerful, asset. However, as a punishment-”

“Shigaraki.” Hawks said.  “Dabi finally agreed to let me meet Shigaraki.”

“Oh.” The president raised her eyebrows.

“I know that I’ve caused you a lot of trouble,” Hawks continued, willing himself to stop shaking. “But you were right. Millions of lives are on the stake, and I feel like our reputation is a worthwhile price to pay for that.”

He met the president’s steely gaze.

“Fine, then,” she said. “I’ll give you one final chance.”

“Thank you.” Hawks bowed his head, heart beating rapidly in his chest. There was no way he’d just pulled that off.

“I expect you to report back on this in at most two weeks.” She said briskly, and Hawk’s stomach dropped.

“Just remember, though,” the president continued softly. “Without us, you are nothing. You aren’t cared for. You aren’t a hero. You’re just the unwanted son of a murderer. And, you know, just as you wanted the world to know about our so-called flaws, we can let the world know about yours.”

“Of course,” Hawks said, eyes glued to the floor. “Thank you.”

She turned back towards the window, pearl necklace glinting in the faint sunlight. “You’re dismissed.”

----

 

Communication

Body-Swap Counter: 2

 

7/12

My name is Hawks. I am 23 years old, and I’m currently the Number Two Hero. I run a private hero agency, Hawks' Agency, and I have a work-study student from UA, who is called Tokoyami with quirk Dark Shadow. To make matters worse, I am currently on an incredibly important infiltration mission: under orders of the HPSC, I have been tasked with infiltrating the Villain organization, the League of Villains, whom you have already come into contact with. You will be able to find detailed, and classified, files on the HPSC’s site. This mission is incredibly urgent, as we suspect they are planning something large, and soon.

Our situation is, at the very least, massively inconvenient, and at most, threatening national safety. I am already looking into ways to reverse this… condition. However, before then, you are correct: if anyone were to find out Lady Nagant was escaping Tartarus through my body, then they would just throw me down there with you. Normally, I would be happy to make this sacrifice to protect the citizens of Japan, however, my mission is of utmost importance.

I will lay some ground rules:

1. Any public address you make has to be sensible: something Pro-Hero Hawks would say. I managed to explain your little stunt yesterday, but try that again, and my head (and by extension, *your* head), is on the chopping block.
2. You will resume the management of my hero agency to the best of your ability, as well as any Hero duty I am called for, such as patrols.
3. Do not contact the League of Villains again. I’m not letting a villain talk to more villains.

 

----

“Ugh!” Hawks hissed as something sharp grazed his abdomen. His feathers whipped outwards immediately, weaving through the air and trapping the villain’s arms and legs. A knife embedded itself in the wall behind him, blade stained red, and he pressed his hand into the wound on his side. It was shallow, but it shouldn’t have been there in the first place. He was… distracted.

He resisted the urge to smack himself on the forehead, for letting his guard down in front of some low-level villain, for the whole situation he was trapped in with some psycho-murderer from Tartarus, and worst of all, for lying to the President about meeting Shigaraki.

Meeting. With Shigaraki. Within two weeks. The sun was about to set, and each second that ticked pass was a conscious reminder of how utterly screwed he was. He hadn’t as much as seen as much as any trace of Shigaraki’s presence, let alone the man himself.

He must have been scowling as he walked towards the villain, since they were trembling, eyes wide and blubbering for mercy. Just as he was about to contact the police, he heard a voice from somewhere behind him.

“What’s wrong, Pretty Bird?” An all-too-familiar voice said. “You seem distracted.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin. “You-!”

Suddenly conscious of the villain tied up in front of him, Hawks waved his arms around wildly, gawking. “There’s a person-!”

“Whatever, just knock the damn extra out or something.” He could practically hear Dabi roll his eyes.

Hawks huffed, and delivered a clean, quick blow to the villain’s head. They slumped to the floor, unconscious.

“Oops,” Dabi slunk out of the shadows. “Looks like you put a little too much force when you were apprehending that terrifying, terrifying villain.”

Hawks sighed, crossing his arms. “It’s not safe for you here.”

Dabi only grinned. He seemed to be in a good mood today. “It’s not safe for me anywhere. Come.” He gestured towards the alley, coat flapping in the wind. “Walk with me.”

“Um.” Hawks squinted at him. “I have a job?”

“Um,” Dabi mocked, walking backwards just to smirk at Hawks, “I don’t care?”

Hawks huffed again. Shigaraki. Two weeks. He followed the villain into the shadows.

“What’s this about?” Hawks scowled at him.

Dabi shrugged, hands in his pockets. “Just wanted to check in.”

Hawks waited for the punchline. It never came. “Just. Check in?”

“Yeah,” Dabi said.

“What?” Hawks said. “Why?”

“I can’t imagine the commission let you off for that speech yesterday.” Dabi said. “I’m not saying that the speech wasn’t satisfying as hell, but it’s not great if my investments are killed off, or whatever. You aren’t of much use if the HPSC doesn't trust you.”

Hawks was at a loss for words.

“So.” Dabi said. “How are you?”

“Well, I was told not to do it again, so don’t expect me pulling something like that again anytime soon,” Hawks said with a shrug. “And I’ll probably have to do some sort of public announcement or apology. Scripted by them, of course.”

“That sounds like something to look forwards to.” Dabi said with a laugh. Dabi. Laughing. Had he been possessed by somebody else too??

“It makes sense. I’ve got to maintain an image, after all.” Hawks sighed. Lady Nagant had gone and shattered that image, and he was left picking up the pieces.

“Hey, follow me,” Dabi said, turning into an abandoned-looking building, quickening his pace as he went up a flight of stairs.

For a while, they walked up in silence.

“This place,” he gestured to the empty, concrete halls. “It used to be the parking lot for some sort of mall. Now, it’s not anymore. Nobody’s bothered to tear it down. It’s just been left here, devoid of cars or people.”

“Hm.” Hawks grunted in acknowledgement, eyes narrowing slightly.

Dabi ran his hands down the rusted railings of the stairs. “No one, except me.” He laughed again, and the noise echoed down the stairwell. “This building, and I. The two of us, we’ve both been abandoned. It’s calming, this little pocket of quiet shade amid the city.”

“Okay.” Hawks said. “I still don’t get why we’re here.”

Dabi shrugged. “You’ll see.”

They continued up the stairs. Eventually, they reached the top floor of the parking lot. Dabi walked outwards into the space where the cars would usually be, crossing the space till he reached the opposite edge, and then hopping up onto the ledge. The ledge acted like a railing, and Hawks peered over it. They were ten or so floors up, and Dabi was a single misstep away from plummeting to his death. Hesitantly, he followed hands hovering at his sides for balance. Dabi’s hands were still in his pockets.

“Don’t fall,” Hawks gritted.

“What? Why, you scared?” Dabi spun, walking backwards. “Come on. You can fly.”

“You can’t.” Hawks said.

“Eh, falling, not falling, living, dying,” Dabi shrugged, “does it really matter in the end?”

“Why are you acting so cryptic and poetic?” Hawks said.

Dabi put a hand to his chest, as if offended. “Why, you assume this is an act?” He spun around again, laughing as his coattails flapped in the wind. “Come on, it’s just up ahead.”

“What’s just up ahead?”

“You’ll find out when we get there, won’t you?”

After scaling a couple more ledges, they manoeuvred onto the roof of the parking lot. The sun was sinking, painting the sky honey-orange behind the hulking silhouettes of skyscrapers. A section of the roof was caught in a ray of sunlight, slicing a gleaming golden rectangle through the shadowed grey. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Dabi nodded towards the view.

“I guess.” Hawks wasn’t sure what to say.

Dabi raised his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed at his response.

“I mean, I can fly. So, I see this,” Hawks waved his hands around in front of him, “often.”

Dabi shrugged. “Alright then, it’ll take more to impress you than this, Mr. Number-Two-Hero. Well, yeah, I guess you see a lot, wings and all. I like being up here, though. It’s like. You can see everything. The skyscrapers, those high-class fancy-ass bastards who live normal lives and work normal jobs and are happy, but also,” he swept his hands to the alleys below, “the abandoned. The rejects. And, well, we all live under the same sun. For a moment, it just feels…”

Dabi shook his head suddenly, huffing. “What am I saying?”

Hawks blinked, resisting the urge to say ‘uh, I don’t fucking know.’ “It is nice, I guess.”

“You know,” Dabi walked over the edge of the building, before taking a seat, legs dangling. “I used to want to be a hero.”

Hawks made his way towards the villain, sitting next to him. “You… you did?”

“Yep. Wanted it more than anything in the world.” Dabi leaned backwards. As the sun sank lower and lower into the sky, the shadows shifted. Dabi’s hair lit up as the sunlight hit him, turning the black strands silvery white. “But you’re right. Being a hero? It’s not about doing good or saving shit or being powerful. It’s all… a lie. It’s a fucking lottery. The quirk you’re born with determines it all.”

Dabi didn’t even sound mad. He just sounded tired, as raised one of his hands, examining it as wisps of bright blue danced from his fingers. “Plus, based on what you’ve said, hero work seems pretty shit anyways.”

“Ha, yeah,” Hawks laughed. “Lots of paperwork.”

“Not just that.” Dabi said. “Being tethered to the government’s leash, doing whatever they say just for a ranking, since you’re ranking determines your popularity and your popularity determines your paycheque. Being a villain? Yeah, it’s shit. I’m hunted wherever I go. But, in a way, I’m free.”

Hawks swallowed. “Yeah. I guess.”

They fell into an awkward silence.

Dabi turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. “You’re acting weird. Or, well, either that or you were acting weird last night. Come on, we’re alone up here. No one’s going to hear shit, you can vent or whatever.”

Monopoly Night with the League of Villains. I have… so many questions. I talked to them quite a bit. I think they liked me. They mentioned that they didn’t trust you very much before today, though.

Hawks realised, that although Lady Nagant had brought him chaos, she’d also brought him the League’s trust. Dabi’s trust.

“Oh, uh,” Hawks winced, pressing a hand to the shallow gash in his side. “Just, yeah, a little distracted.”

Hawks sighed internally, mind whirring. He could pretend to hate the HPSC, couldn’t he? For his mission?

“Yeah, the hero rankings are stupid. The fact that no one’s connected the dots between ‘Hawks being the youngest hero to ever reach Top 3’ and ‘Hawks working for the HPSC, the people who make the rankings’ just goes to show how well their marketing is.” Hawks forced out a laugh.

“Why aren’t you first?” Dabi asked, cocking his head to one side. “If you’re the commission’s little golden boy, certainly they’d want you under that Number One?”

“Firstly, All Might.” Hawks shrugged. “I respect him. I can’t compete with that.”

“Yeah, well, he’s retired now. And,” Dabi scoffed, spitting out the word like something disgusting, “Endeavor doesn’t deserve that top spot.”

Hawks noted down mentally that Dabi did not like Endeavor.

“Eh, he definitely lacks that personality required to be a pillar of Hero Society, and the HPSC’s miffed about that.” Hawks said. “But there’s only so much they can do to bend the numbers. Endeavor’s strong, and he’s been here for a long, long time, so people trust him more than they trust me. For now.”

Dabi remained silent, a frown etched onto his face.

“Plus, Endeavor may be a terrible pillar in terms of his character, but his quirk makes up for it. These things?” Hawks flared out his wings, and the red feathers caught on the creeping sunlight, shining bright gold. “They’re an amazing support-type quirk, but it doesn’t have the oomph of All Might or Endeavor’s flashy punches.”

“All just characters on a stage, aren’t you?” Dabi huffed.

“Yeah.” Hawks said. The sun crept further along the building, and Hawks raised a hand to shield his eyes.

“If the HPSC determines the rankings, why doesn’t everyone just work for the HPSC?”

“It’s tricky. Everyone wants to, so it’s incredibly hard to get a contract. Even then, there’s very little freedom within their contracts, and if you fuck up once, there’s more than enough people who would gladly replace you.” Hawks said. “Plus, most of the time you just end up doing the mindless, menial work. Oh, you know Mirko? The Rabbit Hero?”

“Yep.” Dabi said.

“She started out under a HPSC contract.” Hawks said. “Quit a month later. They kept trying to force her into this cutesy, wholesome profile, with the rabbit ears and everything. Mirko couldn’t take their shit anymore. She was, and do I quote, ‘one more shitty advertisement’ away from burning the whole place to the ground.”

Dabi laughed, and Hawks found himself laughing too.

“Worst part was, I couldn’t tell whether or not she was joking! Every time I complain about the job, she threatens to go in there and bash everyone’s skulls in, and honestly, she might be serious.” Hawks said. “I don’t think the HPSC even like the fact that I hang with her. Her success is just a massive ‘fuck you’ to them, but, like with Endeavor, it’s harder to drag someone down the rankings in comparison to boosting them up.”

“You know, based on what I’m hearing, I’m starting to like this ‘Mirko.’” Dabi said humorously. “Next time I fight her, I’ll scorch her a little less.”

“Sure,” Hawks rolled his eyes, though his mind dwelled on the words ‘next time.’ Dabi was a villain. He was a hero. They would have to fight. “If you can keep up with her.

Abruptly, he started laughing, throwing his head back to shake blonde curls out of his eyes. Dabi peered at him, curious.

“What?” Dabi said.

“Nothing, it’s just,” he paused, caught in another wave of laughter, “this is just, so… absurd.”

“What?” Dabi said, furrowing his brows. “Why?”

“Come on,” Hawks said. “Before this? It was shady meetings in abandoned buildings and coldness, and sure, we had Game Nights, but you never really spoke. I’d get it more if Twice, or Mr. Compress, or even Spinner, did something like this. But you? Why are we suddenly acting like we’re besties or something?”

Dabi was silent.

After a while, Hawks realised he might have gone too far. “Never mind-”

“If working for the HPSC is so bad,” Dabi asked suddenly, “then why do you stay?”

Hawks blinked, giving Dabi a bewildered look. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve talked a lot, today, but also yesterday, and you clearly hate it there. What makes you stay?” Dabi clarified. “I don’t mean ‘quit being a hero,’ but instead just leave your contract with the HPSC. Mirko did it. Why don’t you?”

“The contract I have with the HPSC is… different.” Hawks narrowed his eyes at Dabi. The sun sank lower into the horizon, and the beam of sunshine gradually shrank. “Answer me, what’s this whole conversation really about?”

Dabi sighed, leaning backwards on his hands. “Fine. You caught me. You mentioned something last night, and I just wanted to check up on it.”

“About the HPSC?” Hawks said.

“Yep.” Dabi nodded. “I’ve been thinking lately. The League’s whole plan, well, it’s a good plan, but you know what would make it even better?”

He paused dramatically.

“Um,” Hawks said, “no. I don’t know what the plan is.”

“If some dirt was unearthed about the HPSC. Actually, to be completely honest, I’ve had this as a plan even before joining the League. One day, I knew I just had to fuck up those fake-ass bastards. They’ve caused enough suffering already, without any consequences. I already have dirt on Endeavor. Honestly, my next step was investigating you. Then, you pulled up at our doorstep, and I thought it would be enough to just semi-let you into the League, then reveal it to the public and screw up your reputation.” Dabi said. “Sorry, by the way. No offense.”

“…thanks.” Hawks said, shifting. “You’re telling me this… why?”

“I changed my mind. I like you, plus, you clearly know a lot more about the HPSC’s dirty work than I do. Of course, to do this formally, I’ll have to run it by Shigaraki and everything,” Dabi rolled his eyes, “but there’s not really a ‘formally’ in the League, and since I’m in charge of you, I can do whatever the shit I want.”

“…sure.” Hawks said, lighting up at the word Shigaraki. Maybe this would work. “What makes you think anyone will believe anything you say about the HPSC?”

“That’s where you come in, Pretty Bird.” Dabi said. “They trust you. It should be easy enough to unearth evidence on them. Especially the murders.”

Hawks’ mind ground to a halt. “Sorry, what?”

“I mean, all that ranking stuff is great, but this is what I really wanted to talk about. You mentioned yesterday, the HPSC’s ordered you to kill people before.” Dabi said. “That’s the sort of news that no media team will be able to erase.”

Hawks turned to look into the horizon in an attempt to mask his confusion. All that remained of the sun was only a sliver of bloody red, barely visible through the mess of overlapping buildings. The city had begun to glow with a faint yellow haze, roads alight with streetlights and windows lit up like little stars.

The HPSC had ordered him to do a lot of things before, and none of it involved murder. But… Dabi had said that Hawks… no, last night, it hadn’t been Hawks talking to Dabi. It had been Lady Nagant, who’d also worked with the HPSC in the past… and… and…

Had Lady Nagant killed in the name of the Hero Public Safety Commission before?

No. She had to have been lying. She had to.

“Hawks,” Dabi said, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. Hawks flinched away at the contact. “You good?”

Lady Nagant had killed in the name of the Hero Public Safety Commission. Dabi was right, this wasn’t the kind of news they could just sweep under the carpet. But, no, that wasn’t right. The HPSC may have its flaws, but it would never resort to murder. It was literally branded as public safety.

“Remind me, what I said again? Yesterday?” Hawks said faintly.

“We were just talking about the HPSC, and you said, ‘how many kills do you think I have, that the HPSC doesn’t want you to know about?’” Dabi said. “And, well. I was shocked. I think everyone was. How can they condemn others for abusing their quirks, abusing their power, when they do the exact same thing? Who gives them the right to decide who is right, and who is wrong? I’d always thought that hero society could go fuck itself, but now, I think it should fuck itself a little more. And, we have a means of doing so, too.”

“Just, reveal the murders,” Hawks said quietly, mentally adding the word ‘hypothetical’ in front of the word ‘murders’, “and watch it all come crashing down.”

“Boom.” Dabi said, snapping his fingers in a burst of bright blue sparks. The last sliver of sunlight dissipated. They were, once more, cloaked in shadow.

“What did you say earlier, about running it by Shigaraki?” Hawks asked.

“Oh, that?” Dabi said. “Shiggy already had a schedule planned out, but we may have to edit some things. I’ll also have to introduce you, of course, if you were to formally join our team.”

“Yeah.” Hawks nodded slowly, in slight disbelief. “Yeah.”

“Are you in?” Dabi asked, blue eyes meeting brown ones.

“Yes.” Hawks said. “Yes, of course.”

---

Communication

Body-Swap Counter: 2

 

7/12

My name is Hawks. I am 23 years old, and I’m currently the Number Two Hero. I run a private hero agency, Hawks' Agency, and I have a work-study student from UA, who is called Tokoyami with quirk Dark Shadow. To make matters worse, I am currently on an incredibly important infiltration mission: under orders of the HPSC, I have been tasked with infiltrating the Villain organization, the League of Villains, whom you have already come into contact with. You will be able to find detailed, and classified, files on the HPSC’s site. This mission is incredibly urgent, as we suspect they are planning something large, and soon.

Our situation is, at the very least, massively inconvenient, and at most, threatening national safety. I am already looking into ways to reverse this… condition. However, before then, you are correct: if anyone were to find out Lady Nagant was escaping Tartarus through my body, then they would just throw me down there with you. Normally, I would be happy to make this sacrifice to protect the citizens of Japan, however, my mission is of utmost importance.

I will lay some ground rules:

1. Any public address you make has to be sensible: something Pro-Hero Hawks would say. I managed to explain your little stunt yesterday, but try that again, and my head (and by extension, *your* head), is on the chopping block.
2. You will resume the management of my hero agency to the best of your ability, as well as any Hero duty I am called for, such as patrols.
3. Do not contact the League of Villains again. I’m not letting a villain talk to more villains.

6:30pm

I had a meeting with Dabi just now, and he agreed to introduce me to Shigaraki, the leader of the League of Villains. Because of you. He wanted me to help the League dig up dirt on the HPSC by exposing them for the “murders that they made me do.” Small problem: the HPSC has never asked me to murder anybody. Did they ask that of you? I dislike the thought of you interacting with the League of Villains, but it looks like I don’t really have a choice. Regardless whether the murders are real or not, you can clearly connect with them better than I can. I’ve been closer to discovering their final plan than I have been in months. Here’s the deal: I’ll allow you to contact the League of Villains, as long as you continue my mission to uncover their plan and report your findings to either this document or directly to the HPSC.

Once again, if I find out you’ve gone off to do your own thing with the League of Villains, I will gladly drag you down to Tartarus a second time and wait there until this body-swapping thing wears off.

 

---

Chapter Text

The city spun as Mirko jumped down from the rooftops, silver hair whipping in the wind as she landed smack in front of a stunned robber. The poor man stood, trembling, a bag of money in one hand, and a gun in the other.

“That doesn’t belong to you.” She said with a wild grin.

The robber took a step back, fist tightening around his weapon, before booking in the opposite direction. Patrols were usually boring, especially on days where she was patrolling alone, like today. But this? Chasing down villains, protecting innocent bystanders, restoring justice? This is what she became a hero for.

“Haha,” Mirko laughed as she streaked after him, “you’re pretty fast!” He did have some sort of speed quirk or something along those lines, as he was travelling faster than the average person could run. “Not as fast as me, though.”

He crossed the road just as the traffic light turned green, and a large freight truck drove between the two of them. Mirko’s ears twitched. She heard his footsteps slow down, slightly, and, between exhausted pants, a sigh of relief.

She smirked, crouching down, and jumping.

“Hello there,” she said, soaring over the truck and landing on the robber’s heels. He screamed, almost tripping over himself, before spinning and throwing down his bag. With a clatter, the stolen goods spilled over the sidewalk. His speed almost doubled.

He’s still armed, Mirko cursed, eying the pile of jewellery and money on the ground, I have to apprehend him. I’ll come sort this out afterwards-!

Just as she finished her thought, a streak of red cut through the air. The robber fell to the ground.

Mirko ran towards him, brows furrowing. What was that? The robber flailed on the ground. No, he wasn’t flailing. He was pulling something out from his cloak. Mirko’s eyes widened as the robber pulled out his gun and-

Another streak of red, and the weapon clattered to the ground.

Mirko crossed the distance between the two of them in a swift leap, grabbing both of his hands, tying them behind his back.

A single red feather pierced the robber’s shirt, pinning him to the floor. Another red feather lay on the ground, next to the gun.

“Huh? Hawks?” Mirko looked around, but she didn’t see the Wing Hero anywhere.

After the police arrived and the robber, grumbling, was shoved into a police car, Mirko flipped open her phone.

Mirko 🐰

yo

yo

wya???

Birdie

Huh?

I’m at my agency.

Birdie is sharing his location

Mirko 🐰

Huh??

that’s like over a kilometre away

two of ur red feathers showed up on my patrol today

howww

Birdie

Ohh I see, you were on patrol.  

That makes a lot more sense.

I’ve just been trying to practice ranged attacks, and I managed to hit

that robber. I’m sorry if I disturbed your work! I’m sure you had the

situation under control.

Mirko 🐰

npnp

dayyumm

we’ve got to test your range soon!!

dude that was crazy accuracy for that distance

also why ru being so formal??

u good? 

Birdie is typing…

Birdie is typing…

Birdie is typing…

Birdie

Yeah, a range test would be pretty cool!

“Huh.” Mirko mused. “Interesting.”

Mirko 🐰

Yep

ru free later today?

Birdie

Yes, I’m free now until 2:00pm. Then, I have an appointment

with my work study student, Tokoyami.

Mirko 🐰

I’m done in 30

I’ll come find u

Birdie

Cool

Mirko found Hawks perched on one of the power line poles near his agency building, eyes closed in concentration. 

“Hey Birdbrain!” She shouted upwards. 

Hawks cracked open an eye, before brightening up. “Hi Mirko!” 

He stood, waved, before wobbling a bit and adjusting himself with a couple of haphazard flaps. 

Mirko laughed. “Should I join you up there, or…?”

“Oh! Uh, no, I’ll come down.” Hawks nodded, before leaping off the pole and landing on the ground in a puff of crimson red feathers. 

“I’ve spent the whole morning testing how far these can go.” Hawks lifted a hand, palm facing upwards. A single red feather floated in the centre, glimmering in the sun. 

Mirko prodded it. “Random thought, what the hell are these made of?” It certainly wasn’t, well, feathers. 

Hawks squinted at it, before picking up the feather and squeezing it slightly. “Dunno. I could probably find out though.”

Mirko nodded, and that was that. She stepped backwards and stared at the Wing hero. Something was odd about him today. What was it? His outfit was the same as always — a slightly worn leather flight jacket, and sleek, black-gold clothing underneath. His hair seemed normal. His wings looked as red as ever. Mirko peered at him. 

“Uh,” Hawks blinked. “We were going to test range…?”

“Right.” Mirko said slowly, mind still whirring. 

“Is there something on my face?” Hawks shot her a quizzical look.

“No, no,” Mirko shook her head. “Are you wearing different makeup today or something? You look different, and I can’t place why.” 

“Huh? What? No,” Hawks said hurriedly, cracking a smile. “I’m sure you’re just imagining things.” 

Mirko laughed. “Probably.” 

“Anyways, I’ve got to show you something cool!” Hawks said, twirling the feather around. 

They found a nice rooftop to settle on. Hawks perched on the ledge, scanning the horizon to find a nice target. 

“How ‘bout that tree over there?” Mirko pointed. There was a park, five or so blocks down, filled with barren trees. Their bare branches quivered in the wind. 

“That’s too close.” Hawks shook his head, causing Mirko to raise a skeptical eyebrow. 

“There,” Hawks nodded. “See that cluster of buildings? The blue ones? You see the signs on them?

Mirko nodded. They were little specks on the horizon. Mirko could only make out a string of letters on the top right of the building because of her enhanced vision. 

“I bet I can hit one of those. Yeah. The dot on the ‘i’.” Hawks said, crouching down. 

“From here? Seriously?” Mirko couldn’t mask her surprise. 

“Watch me.” Hawks grinned. He settled down near the edge of the roof, before pulling out a single feather from his wings. It was a short one, just a little longer than his hand. He weighed it in his palm, smoothening it out a little, before tossing it up. It hovered slightly above his palm, before settling in front of him, airborne. Then, curiously, Hawks closed one eye, and folded his right arm as if he were curling weights. He brought his right elbow in line with the feather. 

Before Mirko could ask him what the hell he was doing, the feather was gone in a flash of red. 

“Race you there!” The Rabbit hero was already halfway off the roof by the time she’d shouted that, streaking towards the target. Distantly, she heard an indignant squawk, and knew that Hawks was following. 

The winter air bit at her eyes and pulled at her hair, but she couldn’t help but laugh as she bounded from rooftop to rooftop. She revelled in it, the power in each of her steps, the world blurring around her, the thrill that came with flying over roads and trees with nothing but a complete trust in herself that she would not fall. 

Before long, she’d skidded to a stop in front of the aforementioned blue building, and Hawks landed messily beside her. He’d been slower than she thought he’d be, but he was grinning too when he looked up at her.

“I win.” Mirko said, smug.

Hawks merely pointed upwards. Mirko looked. On the top right corner of the building, there was a large sign, spelling out the words “Hilltop Hotel” in white letters. Embedded in the middle of the dot atop of ‘i’ was a small, red feather. 

“No way.” Mirko gawked at it. “You cheated, you must’ve stuck that in when we got there.” 

“I’ll do it again, and you can make sure I didn’t.” Hawks said with a laugh, 

And so, they did. And they did, again. And again. He really wasn’t cheating. 

They spent another half an hour excitedly discussing how this could be used practically. After a barrage of “where the heck did you learn how to do that?” from Mirko, she delved into ways that it could massively improve his remote support, his ability to cover multiple fights at once, and so on so forth. Hawks had initially wanted to name the move “budget sniper”, but Mirko persuaded him to pick something better. 

“The thing is, though, when I’m doing this, I don’t have much control over the rest of my feathers. I’ve got to put all my focus onto one.” Hawks sighed. “I still have a long way to go, to upgrade this move.” 

“Yeah, but that’s, that’s still insane!” Mirko said. “You know how you helped out on my patrol this morning? If you got better at this, who knows how much you could do, without even moving much at all?” 

“Yeah, it’s got a lot of potential.” Hawks beamed. “Do you want to go grab lunch? It’s past noon.” 

In terms of quirk, range, speed and mobility could dictate who won or lost in a fight. Hawks seemed to have all three gifted to him on a golden platter with those wings of his. 

She brought this up to him, half jokingly, but not without a twinge of jealousy. 

“You’re right. This quirk, well, my quirk, it’s… well, I sure am I became a hero.” Hawks smiled. “But personally, I think you’re cooler than me.”

“Oh, thank you.” Mirko blinked. He’d never said this before. “…why?”

“A quirk is something you’re born with. I didn’t do anything special or work hard to get a good quirk, I was just lucky. Although you have a great quirk, well, relatively, right,” Hawks petered off, as if unsure how to phrase the his next words. 

“It’s okay, you can call my quirk shit.” Mirko shoved him lightly on the shoulder. 

“It’s not shit!” Hawks shook his head, waving his hands frantically in front of him. “Not at all! But, as you mentioned earlier. You have great mobility and speed, but not much range. And not as much mobility or speed as my feathers.” 

“Yeah, ‘Rabbit’ is kinda just a physical buff.” Mirko nodded. 

“Which means that you had to work much harder than I did to reach where you are today!” Hawks said. “That’s why you’re cooler than me. Also, you aren’t affiliated with the HPSC, which, to be fair, also makes a higher rank harder. They make the rankings, after all.” 

Mirko raised an eyebrow. “Really? The HPSC shows bias in their rankings? Certainly, this will cause outrage!”

They both laughed, even as Hawks explained that it was mostly because the HPSC had access to more data on their own heroes than other ones. 

Huh. In the excitement of discovering Hawks’ new sniping ability, the feeling that Hawks was ever-so-slightly off had left her mind. But now, as they’d both settled down, it was back again. He looked the same, sure, but she was undoubtedly corrected. Something was different. She just couldn’t pinpoint what. 

Then, it hit her. 

Hawks looked tired. No, “tired” wasn’t the right word for it. Heroes always looked tired, and Hawks was no exception. Yet, there was something in the Wing Hero’s eyes that looked… bleak. Even as he smiled and laughed and bantered with her, that playful light that usually sparkled in his eyes was missing. She remembered the haphazard state she found him in a few weeks back, bleeding in an alley, struggling to breathe, struggling to recall who she was, heck, who he was. He was fine the next morning. At least, he insisted he was fine, and he looked like he was back to his chipper self. Still. Mirko couldn’t help but worry.

Suddenly, a tap on the shoulder broke her out of her thoughts. It was Hawks. He leaned over. “There’s some guy who’s been staring at you for a bit now. Behind you, on your right.”

Mirko glances backwards. There’s a man in an Endeavor shirt, mid-30s, and hair slicked back in a way that screamed guy-who-calls-waitresses-‘babe’ staring straight back at her. He startled a bit, as if caught in an act, before slapping on a grin and waving.

“Oh wow! Mirko! I’m a big fan!” He started walking towards them.

Mirko merely scowled, spying a group of people who looked like the guy’s friends, trying to contain chuckles as they watched.

“Wow, you’re even hotter in real life.” The man said, pulling out his phone. “Let’s take a selfie!”

Mirko scoffed at him, not even attempting to contain her disgust.  

“Come on!” He tried to grab her arm.

In an instant, she’d slapped it away. The man let out a high-pitched yelp, staggering back and cradling his hands.

“You bitch!” He hissed.

“Just be glad I didn’t break your fingers.” Mirko sneered at him.

“That was fucking uncalled for! I just wanted a selfie, didn’t I?” The man said, shaking his hand in the air and seething. “You don’t appreciate your fans now, do you?”

Mirko turned around to leave. She could hear his friends chortling behind him as he seethed.

“You’re goddamn crazy, going around hurting innocent civilians like that!” He said, following her. “Are you even allowed to be a hero? You’re a bad influence on young girls, acting all crazy and violent and crazy, and-”

This man clearly needed a thesaurus. Mirko decided to put him out of his misery.

“First off,” Mirko whirled around, glaring at him. “Show some fucking respect. Second, be goddamn grateful that you don’t have two broken ribs and a twisted ankle right now. Third, swallow that big ego of yours, and get the fuck out of my sight.”

However, she hadn’t even gotten halfway through her first sentence when he interrupted her again, going off about how woman like her shouldn’t be able to become heroes and how an “emotional, violet bitch” (wow, he only repeated one adjective this time) like her didn’t deserve to even have a quirk.

In short, she was wasting her time.

“Hey,” Hawks spoke up. “You heard her. Fuck off.”

The man finally shut up. Hawks stared him down for a long while.

“You have ears, don’t you?” Hawks said, unfurling his wings slightly. The sharp edges of the feathers glinted in the sun. “Don’t touch my friends and get the fuck out of here.”

“Fine,” the man sneered. “I’ll leave your girl alone. She’s too crazy for me, anyway.”

He stormed off.

“What a loser.” Mirko said, turning around. They continued walking towards the restauraunt, but the mood had shifted.

Hawks looked sour, muttering under his breath. “So nothing has changed.”

“Pardon?” Mirko asked, flicking an ear.

“Oh, nothing.” Hawks said. “It’s just… I forget people like that exist in this world.”

“Yeah, a lot of them do. Where do they find all that audacity?” Mirko rolled her eyes. “Though most of them don’t expect me to cuss them out in public, so, that’s always satisfying.”

Hawks laughed. “Yeah. Everything he said was complete bullshit, by the way.”

“Oh, no, I know.” Mirko said. “It was laughable. Wait till he finds out I’m not attracted to men.”

Hawks barked a laugh. “What? You aren’t?”

Mirko shot him a quizzical look. “Yeah? You know this.”

“Oh, right. I do” Hawks nodded, flashing her a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I’m a little tired right now.”

“Aren’t we all.” Mirko said. “You know what’ll make us feel better? Chicken skewers. Come on, let’s go.”

Hawks was definitely acting off. They had been making fun of an article that speculated about a potential romantic relationship between them only days ago. But maybe he was just tired. They were both busy, especially with the rising threat of the League of Villains on the horizon. Heroes were scouring to find their whereabouts, as well as devise a plan against the Paranormal Liberation Front, who were causing increasing trouble. And of course, she didn’t forget that scare with the Nomu. If only she’d gotten their faster, then she’d have been able to clock Dabi in the face. She sighed.

Still, they couldn’t take a break. Wouldn’t take a break. Not when the lives of civilians were at risk, and such dangerous groups were at large. Still, she couldn’t help but worry about Hawks.

There was something undeniably off about him. But… why?

Communication

Body-Swap Counter: 4

19/12

Morning

9:00AM – 11:30AM

My day was fairly free today, so I spent some more time trying to get used to your quirk. Flying is still hard, but I’m getting the hang of it. I’ve also found that — and maybe this is because of my own quirk — that I find it much easier to concentrate on a few feathers than the whole set of wings. I’ve been seeing how broad my range is, and, given the fact that the feathers have senses of their own, it seems to be further than I used to be able to snipe with my own quirk.

11:30AM – 2:00PM

Grabbed lunch with Mirko. We did a range test. I impressed her.

2:00PM – 4:00PM

I met Tokoyami for the first time today! The short introduction that you gave me really helped. I took some time to watch a couple of his fights online. He’s a very sweet kid. A little quiet. I’d taken a couple work study kids in my time as a Pro Hero, so I decided to handle it. I took him on some patrols in the afternoon, taught him a thing or two. He seemed to be perplexed the whole time. Not at what I was teaching, in fact, he’s an excellent student and a fast learner. But… he just looked at me weird. I hope I didn’t do anything wrong…

4:00PM – 8:00PM

Returned to the Agency, finished off some work.

The bell above the door rang as she stepped in, and Mirko let the warmth of the café seep into her chilled bones.

“Merry Christmas, Mirko!” The man behind the counter’s eyes widened at the Hero. His nametag said, in scrawled sharpie, Kenji.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Kenji.” Mirko smiled back, eying the time. 11:12pm. “Though, I suppose, Christmas is nearly over. Could I get a chocolate latte? Medium sized, thank you.”

“Of course, of course,” Kenji nodded. “To go?”

Mirko looked around. The café was quaint and cozy, lit up in a warm shade of amber by well-placed lanterns. There was Christmas décor dotted from place to place: a couple stockings hanging on the back wall, a reindeer plushie inhabiting one of the seats, and a small, plastic Christmas tree sitting in the corner of the store, lit up in blue, yellow and red. “No, I think I’ll have it here. I’ve got nowhere to be after this.”

“Well, we close in 48.” He said. “Feel free to stay. Long day at work?”

Mirko nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes as she glanced at her own reflection in the cafe windows. “Yep. Gotta make sure it’s a safe Christmas for everybody.”

Her hair was slicked with sweat, and there were spots of grime on her face that she wiped off with a napkin. She was still wearing her hero costume underneath her coat. 

As Mirko fished around her purse for her wallet, Kenji stopped her. “Hey, it’s on the house.”

“No, no,” Mirko shook her head. “I insist.”

“My daughter,” he explained, “she really admires you. We’ve… we’ve been going through a little bit of a rough patch at home, but every time she sees you on TV, she always lights up. Wants to be big and strong one day, like you. Consider this as my thanks to you.”

He put the drink on the counter.

“Thanks.” Mirko nodded, before taking a seat on a couch in the corner of the café. Just as she moved a pillow to make space for herself, the bell rang again.

“Hawks! It’s been a while.” Mirko nodded in acknowledgement, as he dipped his wings underneath the doorframe.

“Hey Rumi.” Hawks waved. “I was just looking for you.”

Kenji gawked at him. “What… can I get you?”

“Could I have a hot chocolate please? Small, thanks.” Hawks flashed him a smile, before taking a seat beside Mirko. He unzipped a bag, before fishing out a laptop.

“How’s your day been?” Mirko asked, scattering the wisps of steam above her latte with a soft blow.

“Eh, pretty uneventful. For Christmas, that is.” Hawks sighed. His fingers drummed on the desk. “You?”

“Humm… yeah, yeah, you’ve got your usual small villains and such. No one tried anything big, though, which is a good thing.” Mirko sipped her drink. “No news is good news.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Hawks nodded, brows slightly furrowed. “You’re right.”

“What’s wrong?” Mirko asked. “You said you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, I was, actually,” Hawks nodded. He paused, glancing around, before lowering his voice. “You know, Rumi, you’ve always been a really good friend. I know I can trust you, with things. And, I can’t say that about a lot of people.” He let out a dry chuckle.

Mirko put the mug down. “Aw, thanks, Birdie. Now spill, what is it?”

Hawks glanced away, gaze fixating on the stockings hanging on the wall beside him. “What… what do you know about Lady Nagant?”

Mirko blinked, ears flicking in surprise. She cocked her head to one side. “Lady Nagant? The… you know, her? The Lady Nagant?”

Hawks grimaced. “Yeah, her.”

Mirko dropped her voice to a hushed whisper, peering at Hawks through narrowed eyes. “You’re a HPSC lad, you should know more than I do.”

“I want to hear what you know.” Hawks said.

“Hello?” Kenji interrupted them, and the two heroes sat up. “Hawks, your drink.”

“Thank you.” Hawks grabbed the mug and sat back down.

“I knew that she was ranked second, back in the day, when All Might was still new. She’d became a hero at a young age, enlisted in one of the HPSC’s youth programs. That was also new, back then. She was crazy skilled and streaked up the rankings. Then, one day, the late President of the HPSC was found dead, his blood all over her hands. Later, they found that she had connections with a major Villain organisation, though it was never confirmed whether it was a planned assassination, or if she just went…” Mirko lifted her left index finger, and traced circles in the air at her temple. “Berserk.”

“The HPSC’s youth programs have evolved a lot since they were first introduced.” Hawks clicked once on his mouse, and his laptop blinked to life. “But the program that Lady Nagant, otherwise known as Kaina Tsutsumi, was enrolled in, is the very same one that I was enrolled in.”

“Huh.” Mirko hummed.

“This is all public information. However, if I go onto Kaina’s official file on the website,” he clicked on a couple links, and a page opened up. On the top right corner of the screen, a picture of Lady Nagant stared back at them. As a child, Rumi had seen the hero on TV: dead gorgeous, constantly wearing either a charismatic grin or an expression of calm control. Heck, she’d been part of the reason Mirko became a hero herself. However, the picture on this file was completely different from anything she’d seen in public, even after her arrest. It was… blank. Soulless. Her eyes looked haunted, more of a dull grey than purple, and her ever-present smile was gone. In fact, it felt like she barely had the willpower to keep her eyes open, let alone smile. This didn’t look like a calculating murderer.

“Hey, um,” Rumi butt in as Hawks scrolled down the file, “is this, like, confidential, or…?”

“Can I trust you?” Hawks said, turning to Rumi.

She looked at him, illuminated by the blue light of his screen and the amber lamps around him. Had he always looked this tired? Or was Lady Nagant’s haunted eyes just messing with Rumi?

“Of course,” Rumi nodded.

“Okay. Look. The top of the file, after physical appearance and stuff, just details her past relationship with the HPSC, and then her crime and her sentence.” His cursor circled twice around the word “Tartarus”, before dancing off and continuing to scroll. “But here. It looks like there’s nothing else left to the file, but I know this interface well enough. Typically, on a hero’s file, you can see their stats. The HPSC carefully documents what the hero has done – they do this for all heroes, for the ranking, but especially ones who sign contracts with them – and it includes stuff like specific missions, jobs, arrests made, rescues, et cetera.”

“Yes.” Mirko nodded.

“But it’s missing in this file. Which, okay, I suppose, if she committed the crimes that she did, they might remove it, except,” Hawks circled a portion of his screen with his cursor. “It’s supposed to be this tab, right here. If the information were missing, they wouldn’t have kept the tab. But if I click on it, look.”

He tapped once, and it opened up a pop-up window.

Access Denied.

“Access… huh?” Rumi dragged the laptop closer to her, inspecting the page.

“Now, the contract that I signed with the HPSC gives me… particularly high access to all of their documents and such.” Hawks said slowly. “This? This can only be viewed by, say, a select few trustees, the board, and the president herself.”

“Why… why are you showing me this?” Mirko asked. However, her mind was already whirring. Why, after all, would Hawks take a sudden interest in a villain that had been in Tartarus for years?

Hawks remained quiet, staring emptily at his laptop screen.

“You think there’s something more to her story.” Mirko said.

“Why did you decide to quit the HPSC?” Hawks asked abruptly, glancing at her.

“You’ve heard that spiel too many times before.” Mirko laughed. “Fun fact: I actually started with them because of Lady Nagant, you know? I wanted to be like her. She was strong, and pretty, and kept people safe. And strangest of all, her quirk wasn’t… particularly strong.”

Hawks raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, of course it was strong. But it wasn’t Number-Two-Hero levels of strong. It was a sniper rifle, with hair for bullets. Yet, she was still… amazing, she outdid those with ‘stronger’ quirks than her simply by working hard, by fine-tuning what she could do to the best it could possibly be. She made me realise that as long as you fought hard enough, no quirk could hold you back.” Mirko sighed. “I thought that the HPSC… well, also thought that way. But nope. I was just a rabbit to them. They told me that no one would ever support me if I didn’t sell a character that was sweet, and docile, and wholesome. Not with my quirk. I could never do that. It just wasn’t… me.”

“Ah,” Hawks sighed. “Yeah.”

“So, I quit, and I proved them wrong. Are you thinking about quitting?” Mirko asked.

“No, no, em,” Hawks shook his head. “No. But. Yeah, something about Lady Nagant’s whole story just… irks me. Like. I think you’re one of the only people I know who doesn’t adore, or at least respect, the HPSC, which is why I’m talking to you. But.”

He paused for a second, running a hand through his hair.

“The more I’ve been digging into this, the more just… doesn’t make sense. But that can’t be right, because the HPSC is a hero organisation. I’ve been working with them all my life! They’re devoted to making the world a better place. Why would they try to cover anything up? What would they have to hide?”

“You know, um,” Rumi awkwardly patted his shoulder. “The HPSC is powerful, and power doesn’t come easily.”

“What are you suggesting?” Hawks said, glancing at her coldly.

“I’m not saying that they’re evil or anything! They do a lot that benefits society. Our world would be chaos without them.” Rumi amended, “however, no system is perfect. It may be the best viable option we have right now, but it isn’t perfect. We also don’t know what path the HPSC took to get to where it is today. Maybe it’s doing good now, but in the past, there needed to be things that had to be… covered up.”

Hawks let out a long sigh.

“I’d hate to interrupt,” Kenji waved at them from behind the counter, “but we are, unfortunately, closing in 5 minutes.”

“Oh, we’ll get going.” Mirko said with a smile.  

“Right, yeah. Thanks.” Hawks stood. “The hot chocolate was amazing.”

“Oh, thank you!” Kenji smiled.

They exited the café. Rumi watched her breath form misty white puffs in the winter air.

“I’m going to head home.” Hawks said. His wings unfolded behind him as he shrugged on his flight jacket.

“Don’t you want to keep talking about this?” Rumi asked.

“Nah. Tired. Busy day tomorrow.” Hawks said.

“Alright, alright.” Rumi said. “Although, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’ll always be there.”

“Thanks.” Hawks nodded, and then he smiled, and Rumi thought to herself, it wasn’t just me. He looks exhausted.

But before she could open her mouth to protest, he was already gone.

Communication

Body-Swap Counter: 6

25/12

Merry Christmas.

I know I didn’t buy it at first, but I’ve been looking into your files, and it appears that the HPSC is hiding something about you. I don’t just need a concrete answer, I need a detailed one. Did they or did they not command you to kill people, innocent or otherwise? If so, who? Why? There are not many other people I can talk to about this, given the strangeness of our situation. However, I’ve been working with the Health and Public Safety Commission ever since I was a child, and though they may be strict, and times even cold, they aren’t murderers. They aren’t lawbreakers, they uphold the law.

But if you’re telling the truth… then what? If Dabi gets his way, and this information is revealed, what will even happen? The entire Japanese hero society is built around them, by them. The public wouldn’t be swayed so easily. A murder or two is far outweighed by the amount of good they’ve done for us.

Regardless, there’s a meeting with Dabi, tomorrow at 9:45pm. I’ve told him to see if he can find any info on you via… less than legal measures. He said he’s found something, hence the meeting. Aside from that, it’s business as usual.

Mirko was on her way home, strolling on the rooftops and admiring the night sky when she saw him.

She almost missed him, too. He was wearing something different, not that signature flight jacket, but instead a large, dark brown leather coat, paired with a thick, green scarf. There was a matching green beanie pulled over his hair. His bright red feathers were nowhere to be seen, probably hidden underneath the leather.

Still, she recognised Hawks’ face as he pulled down a pair of sunglasses, pausing to rub the lens on his scarf, before donning them again. He continued walking forwards hastily. She decided against leaping down and saying hi. Where was the fun in that? Besides, why was Hawks looking so rushed anyways? And hiding his true identity? Mirko began following him.

He took a couple turns, and soon, Mirko was travelling further and further from her apartment. Despite the darkness, Mirko could see perfectly well thanks to her quirk. The streets glowed in a washed-out grey, illuminated in ghostly blue by flickering streetlamps. The sky was the same ghostly blue, masking the stars. She sighed. Light pollution was sad, but inevitable. She’d rather people get around safely in the dark with the help of streetlamps, than look at the stars.

Hawks suddenly stopped abruptly, looking to his left and right. After he was sure no one was watching him, he turned into an alley.

Huh.

Interesting.

Mirko stood, crouching down. Her footsteps were silent as she followed him from above, always staying four or five metres behind him. As they both disappeared into the shadows, her eyes adjusted rapidly to the growing darkness. She could make out a few cigarettes and a torn-up newspaper dotting the floor in specks of white as she followed Hawks’ form.  

Where on Earth was he going?

His strange behaviour over the past month. His ever-present exhaustion. His sudden interest in Lady Nagant. Was she finally about to find out what was making her friend act so different?

Suddenly, a part of her twinged in guilt. Maybe she was walking into something private or personal. After all, Hawks had taken great care in making sure he wasn’t recognised. Hey. I’m just going to make sure he’s doing fine, and he’s not in danger. Mirko thought. Not that the Wing Hero couldn’t defend himself, but he hadn’t really been himself lately.

Her mind was set. She continued following him.

After a series of lefts and rights, he pushed open a door and entered a dilapidated building. Mirko spied a window on the floor above them, leaping over to the ledge, and sliding in. She found herself in a long-abandoned bedroom. Only the bedframe, and a broken bedside desk, remained. Everything was cloaked in a thick layer of dust. This is probably some sort of abandoned motel, Mirko mused. She pushed open the door, wincing slightly at the creak it let out, before slipping into the hallway. She poked around, finding more rooms along the hallway, before reaching a stairwell at its far end.

Her ears twitched.

Voices echoed upwards from below her.

Yes, she recognised that first voice: Hawks. But there was a second voice that she didn’t recognise at first. Her ears twitched again. It sounded incredibly familiar, and yet, she couldn’t quite pinpoint where she’d heard it before.

Then, that second voice laughed.

And it clicked.

She’d recognise that laugh anywhere.

In an instant, she kicked down the door to the stairs. It fell to the ground with a thump and a plume of dust, wood cracking as she sprinted over it.

“You!” Mirko snarled, leaping down the middle of the stairwell. She spied two figures, one in a green scarf and beanie, and the other in a dark blue jacket, staples gleaming on scarred, purple skin.

She threw herself to the side just as a burst of blue fire cut through the air, heat licking her skin, rolling once before pushing herself up into a crouch. In less than a heartbeat she was on the offensive, sending a kick towards the villain.

He danced out of the way, just barely, and Mirko steadied herself for another attack. The railing went up in flames, illuminating everything in a ghastly, unnatural blue.

Across from her, head cocked to one side, was Dabi himself.

“Were you followed, Birdie?” Dabi drawled, unimpressed. “Or was this your plan all along? How many heroes are waiting outside this building right now?”

“Oh boy,” Mirko snarled, knowing full well that she was alone. “You aren’t getting away this time. I hope you like the thought of Tartarus.”

Hawks was meeting up with Dabi.

The Number Two Hero was meeting up with one of the most wanted villains in Japan. Was he… was he really a traitor?

“Hm, a nice offer, but no thanks.” Dabi said, flames flickering at his fingertips, and Mirko urged herself to focus. 

Hawks was frozen in a corner, eyes wide as he watched the two of them. “Wait!” He said suddenly, holding out his hands as if to calm the two. “Wait, wait, I can explain! Please, stand down. Dabi. Stand down.”

To Mirko’s shock, the villain scoffed at him, but lowered his hands. This was her chance to strike.

“You too, Mirko,” Hawks glanced at her, pleadingly. “Please. I can explain.”

“You better have a damn good explanation,” Mirko glared at him.

“I do,” he said, voice steady. “But you have to promise not to tear one another to pieces.”

There was a long silence.

“Fine.” Mirko said, still wary.

“Let’s hear it.” Dabi said.

Hawks paused, swallowing, as if steeling himself.

He took a deep breath.

“The thing is, I’m not Hawks.”