Chapter Text
VI. Touya
When everything crumbled, it crumbled quickly. One blow after another, mistake followed by mistake.
It wasn’t supposed to go this way. Not at all, but there were no more conversations to be had, no more games to play. His hands were empty. His house of cards, crashing down.
The flames licked up Hawks’ back as he stumbled away from the villa railing, trying desperately to pat out his wings between heaves and coughs. Smoke curled in his lungs. Chard feathers drifted through the air.
Behind him, Dabi was yelling—something about plans and screw ups and how Hawks “ruined everything”. He looked up at the villain through wet lashes, trying to fight back tears. From pain, betrayal, or grief, he wasn't sure, but Dabi wasn’t mourning.
No, he looked excited. Alive.
When Hawks told him as much, it earned him a swift kick to the chest. The flames around them glowed brighter, lapping at the hero’s skin.
He was going to die. Right here, right now, on this stupid balcony, thanks to a man he was willing to challenge fate for. Someone who he thought might love him back. Who he hardly recognized after all those quiet meetups and tender moments.
So much for fortune tellers, he thought, gasping.
There was still so much he needed to know, so much he needed to say. Questions boggled his mind, and one shoved to the forefront. Something he wanted answered for his own sake, just to put a name to the face that killed him and the man he had so freely fell for.
“Who are you?!”
Dabi grinned, more manic than Hawks had ever seen him. Out of pity, or maybe for closure itself, he opened his mouth.
“Touya,” he said. “Touya Todoroki.”
And suddenly, everything clicked into place.
VII. Takami
The war ended. All For One and Tomura Shigaraki were defeated, but the scars left in their wake remained. Lives uprooted, cities destroyed. Civilians were slowly beginning to rebuild. Heroes were trying their best to foster peace.
And then, there was Hawks. Once the youngest to crack the top ten, HPSC’s golden boy, he now walked the halls of Tokyo Medical in a suit and tie, badge pinned to his chest and wings missing from his back. He had lost his quirk and gained a title no one else wanted: head of the Hero Public Safety Commission.
The transitional period had been rough. Going from stopping criminals to endless paperwork was a bummer. No more open skies. Just the high white ceilings of an office building.
Yet, there was something to be gained from it all. Even now, months later, his mind circled back to the same place.
Touya, or as he still liked to be called, Dabi.
Defying all odds, he was alive—but not very well. After everything that went down between him, Shouto, and Endeavor, the situation was considered touch-and-go. His prognosis was bleak. Yet, he held on, baring teeth and splitting nails the whole way. Broken, beaten, and more scarred than ever.
Hawks often found himself standing outside his hospital room once work hours were done. Even after hearing that Dabi was conscious, lucid, and actually quite compliant, he couldn’t bring himself to step through that door. Hawks wasn’t sure he wanted to see it—all the damage done to his body. Would he still laugh the same? Smile the same? Roll his eyes and throw out stupid jokes and pretend he didn't care even though he so clearly did? Hawks wasn't sure. So, he waited, and days became weeks, and weeks became months.
Finally, one dreary Monday when the clouds were overcast and his afternoon meeting ended early, Hawks found a small sliver of extra courage. Endeavor had called the day before. He wanted to check in, see how Hawks was doing. While not known for such casual care, it seemed he was getting better at it and when the newfound president said he was fine, Enji sighed in relief.
"That's... good, I suppose. Better than some, I'd say."
They ran in circles after that. Made small talk. Shouto was enjoying regular classes at UA. Fuyumi had found a new job. Natsuo proposed to his girlfriend and moved away. Rei had become quite accustomed to life on her own.
When Touya wasn't mentioned, Hawks decided to take the plunge and ask. Apparently, his treatments were going well. He was responsive, at least, and didn't fight them on anything. Endeavor went to visit him every day, and despite everything, that seemed to make him happy, but there was one thing- he was lonely.
There was something in his eyes. Something was missing, and after hearing that, Hawks came to a decision. He stopped outside the hospital room door, took a deep breath, and pushed inside before he could second-guess himself.
The sight that greeted him was both better and worse than his expectations.
Dabi was propped against the pillows, still swathed in bandages from collarbone to wrists. Tubes fed into his arms and his nose. The breath rattled in his lungs. He was missing more of his healthy skin, his right arm, and a few fingers, but what was left—
His eyes flickered to Hawks, wide and bitter and burning like a house fire.
“What the hell... are you doing here?” Dabi managed. His voice was little more than a wheeze, jaw moving stiffly. “Come to watch me... rot here or something?”
“Not exactly.” Hawks eased himself into the bedside chair. “Just came to see how you were doing.”
His heart pounded so hard he was afraid it might crack a rib as Dabi slowly looked him up and down, head to toe. He knew what he saw: a hero no more. Just another pretty boy in a boring business suit, ready to follow orders.
“Your wings-,” he began.
“Are gone. Talk about a waste, huh?” He tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a choke. “Kind of like your big masterplan. You didn’t go quite as scorched earth as you promised.”
And that was true. Somewhere along the lines of promising to destroy everything, Dabi had faltered. The fight between him and the Todorokis had been brutal, yes, but not as cataclysmic as it could have been. Hawks liked to think he was pulling his punches, for one reason or another.
Dabi must have been thinking about it too, as he looked away with a snarl.
“So... you’re here to gloat? About my failure?”
“No. That’s not why I’m here. I’m here to say that I... I want us to start over.” Hawks kept a straight face, although it felt ridiculous.
Dabi, to his credit, didn’t laugh.
“Start over? Wow. That’s... rich. What are you going to do? Pretend... none of the things that happened actually happened.”
“No,” Hawks steadied himself. “I know we can’t do that, but we can stop pretending. Playing these games of heroes and villains, of Hawks and Dabi. We could just be us. Nothing else.”
“You’re pathetic,” Dabi immediately spat, turning away as best as he could.
“Maybe, but I’d rather be pathetic than spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been different,” Hawks admitted. “So, I’ll go first. Hi, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Keigo Takami.”
Dabi didn’t reply. He remained silent for the rest of the visit, and the next, and the third.
It took time. Slow, painstaking time as Hawks began to chip away at the wall between them. First, by erasing his image as the Commission’s favorite spy and Japan's number two hero. Then, but showing who Keigo was—the man who loved cheap takeout, took long walks through the park on his way home, worked his ass off to set up counseling programs for kids with tough quirks. Who cracked stupid jokes and watched shitty action movies and listened as Touya complained about the gross hospital food.
Because he did eventually start complaining. It began as a slow trickle, muttering under his breath about how the hospital only fed him soft food and purees. He was desperate for some spicy soba, or anything else, really, other than the bland potato mash that seemed to be a menu regular. Hawks watched as he childishly swirled it around on his plate, mobility improved well enough for him to eat on his own.
He was finally able to hold things again. Small things, to start, but soon, that changed. Next came the TV remote and the emergency call button, and the energy drink can Keigo smuggled in because he asked him to. He made other demands, too. Magazines and books, and his favorite snacks from the convenience store. Once, he even asked for a pack of cigarettes. Keigo practically panicked before he realized he was joking.
From there, things got better and sometimes worse, and very often stayed the same. There were days when Touya outright ignored him and others when he snapped so hard it alerted security.
But then, he was happy, too. Cracking jokes and sarcastic remarks and trying to make Keigo laugh. In those moments, very rarely, it felt as if they had never left those late-night rooftops at all.
Soon after, with a lot of swaying and pleading once his condition allowed, Keigo got permission to take Touya out onto the hospital grounds for daily strolls.
There wasn’t really much to see. Just some patchy grass and freshly budding trees, and the occasional stray pigeon waddling between the benches. Still, it definitely beat staring at the blank hospital walls for hours on end.
It soon became routine for Hawks to maneuver his wheelchair into the shade, place his oxygen tank in the grass, and take a seat on the bench beside him. Most of the time, they just talked, soaked in the sun, or watched the birds.
“Here,” Keigo said one afternoon as he held out a handful of sunflower seeds. “For you.”
Touya scoffed, grabbing a few and flicking them towards the pigeons. “Lame. You run the entire Hero Commission, and you’re bribing street birds to be your friends? That’s a new low.”
“Hey, you’ve gotta start small.” Keigo tilted his head, watching the flock move closer. “We can’t all be like you—entertaining the top of the food chain.”
That earned him a sideways glance. The corner of Touya’s mouth twitched.
“And you say you’re not full of yourself. Idiot.”
“Maybe. But for now... I’m your idiot.”
“Mine, huh?” Touya chuckled.
That quickly turned into a laugh as a particularly brave pigeon strutted up between them, waiting expectantly for another treat. Keigo watched as his shoulder trembled. As the sound rattled deeply from his chest.
He hadn’t realized how much he missed it—his laugh.
“Wow, look at that. You showed a little bit of joy, and the world didn’t implode. What are the odds?”
“Shut up."
Keigo took that as an invitation. Slowly, trying not to spook him, his fingers brushed Touya. There was a gasp, a moment of pause, and then, it passed.
He reached back. Their fingers knitted together. Their hands settled in his lap.
“Careful, birdbrain,” Touya murmured, a little winded. “I might get the wrong idea and start thinking this means something.”
Keigo smiled faintly. “What if that’s the point...?”
Before he could finish, they were interrupted by the swish of an opening door. Keigo’s head jerked up, sorely missing the heightened senses that would have already alerted him someone was coming. Instead of letting go, his fingers instinctively gripped Touya’s tighter.
Standing at the hospital’s back exit, having been ushered there by a helpful nurse, stood the Todoroki family. Enji, Shouto, Fuyumi, and even Rei: they stare at the pair in a mix of confusion and surprise.
Hawks knew they often came to visit—daily if they could. But they’d never crossed paths. Not like this, and he had always hoped they wouldn’t, as Endeavor reacted much as he expected. Immediately, his face lit up, fire igniting across the width of his shoulders.
“Hawks!” He barked, striding forward. “What's the meaning of this?! What are you doing here?!”
Keigo froze. He opened his mouth to fumble out an excuse—anything to stop Endeavor from totally barbecuing him—but Touya beat him to it.
“Relax, old man,” he rasped. His jaw clenched in restraint. A muscle fluttered in his damaged cheek. “It’s not like we’re plotting anyone’s demise. I just wanted to spend time with my boyfriend instead of you maniacs. Not a crime, is it?”
Boyfriend? The word left Keigo choking. “W-wait, do you mean... we’re...?”
“Duh, you idiot. What else would you call it?”
The Todorokis’ reactions landed in quick succession. Endeavor’s flames died. Shouto blinked in confusion. Fuyumi grasped her mother’s arm, either in excitement or disbelief. And Rei—well, she didn’t look very surprised at all.
And then, there was Keigo. It was in that moment that he realized fate hadn’t been mocking him after all. Although the road was rocky, it still led him here—to this moment, right where he was supposed to be.
The transfer came in late August, nearly a year and a half after his recovery began, and several months since the courts and officials started debating what to do with the former villain Dabi.
It was deemed that, despite treatment, Touya would never walk again. The damage done to his muscles was severe, and his mobility was forever inhibited. The rest of his health wasn’t much better, if not worse. Even the highest-ranking prisons weren't equipped to provide such extensive care—not when they were already bursting at the seams with large capacities after the war. Placing him there would be considered cruel, although many people believed he didn’t deserve any leniency.
Eventually, it was decided he’d be committed to a secure health facility on the edge of the city. A stepping stone, they said, before a long-term solution could be found.
Keigo was there the day he moved. Mainly, his role was moral support, cracking jokes to fill the awkward silence and shielding Touya from prying eyes as they brought him in.
Once he was settled, redressed the facility’s soft cotton uniform, and seated on the edge of his new bed, Touya didn’t offer a thank you. He didn’t say much of anything, really, but Keigo stayed. He complimented the staff for their kindness, pointed out how much bigger the garden area was, and cracked the window for some fresh air—although it would only open an inch or so.
“See? Pretty fancy, huh?” He boasted.
Touya bit his lip and mumbled, “Whatever you say.”
Over the next few months, Keigo kept coming. Sometimes with coffee, other times with sunflower seeds for the birds outside. More often than not, though, he had nothing at all but the willingness to sit there and listen to Touya complain. About his therapy sessions, the cocktail of medication he was on, the way the hospital staff looked at him with both pity and disgust—anything he could think of.
Yet, he was trying. Not just for his own sake, but Keigo and his family's, too. And that effort didn't go unnoticed.
Soon, good behavior was rewarded with more freedom. The little space he called home became decorated with personal touches. Old coffee cups on the desk, one of Keigo’s jackets forgotten on the foot of the bed, a loaned paperback on the nightstand that he borrowed and never finished.
The dresser was covered in beaded bracelets made during physical therapy. Letters from Fuyumi and Rei, and occasional Shouto, were taped by the window. Printed pictures Keigo snapped of birds he found while walking through the city decorated the walls.
All of it became an act of proof. A clear sign that Touya was still there, no matter how many times he almost disappeared.
VIII. Todoroki
The alarm buzzed at six A.M, same as always. Keigo groaned as he reached blindly across the nightstand, ready to drag himself from bed and start the day—only to find a heavy arm slung across his chest.
“Don’t even think about it,” Touya mumbled, voice rough from sleep.
Keigo turned, blinking blearily at him.
After years of treatment and rehab and more pain than it seemed one person could possibly manage, Touya had moved out of the facility nearly five years later.
At first, it was tentative—a small step back into the world under the watchful eye of specialists. Then, a definite decision was made. Compassionate release, as his health was too severe to be realistically cared for in a regular prison setting. It was still custodial, only provided if he was home-bound and under continuous surveillance. And who better to carry out said surveillance than the HPSC president himself?
So, Touya moved in. Two toothbrushes now sat by the bathroom sink. Twinning coffee mugs rested in the kitchen drying rack. Their lives slowly stitched together, and within months, it seemed almost silly for that not to be true in every sense.
There was no ceremony. No spectacle toted by family and friends. Just some signed paperwork, and they were married. The name Keigo Takami changed to Keigo Todoroki, as much as Touya was against it.
When asked why he was so insistent on taking that cursed last name, Keigo only chuckled and said it had to do with superstition. Fate, destiny: that sort of thing. He didn’t tell the story of the fortune teller—didn't see there to be a point. Things had worked out exactly as intended. Nothing more needed to be said.
Now, two years later, he didn’t regret a single moment of it. With a smile, he pressed his face into the crook of Touya’s scarred neck, careful of his oxygen tube. “Are you going to hold me hostage every morning for the rest of my life?”
“Only when you get stupid ideas like going to work and shit,” Touya teased, mouth quirking up into a smile.
Keigo let himself be held a moment longer before finally pushing himself up, dragging Touya with him.
After so long, their mornings had become habitual. Brushing teeth, getting dressed, making the bed. Touya let Keigo pull his shaggy hair back to the nape of his neck, securing it with a band. Keigo went ahead and pinned his badge to his shirt so he wouldn’t forget it. After taking pills and putting on prosthetics and arguing over who would make the coffee, they headed to the kitchen.
Touya favored yogurt and jammed toast, burnt at the edges. Hawks ate his usual rice and fried eggs. They took things slow, lulled in conversation, interpreting the cooking as they complained about boring things like the weather and meeting schedules, and whether pigeons could be counted as pets.
By the time their dishes were in the sink, Keigo knew he was going to be late for work. Still, he couldn’t find it in his heart to hurry.
“Not very professional,” Touya chided, smirking around the lip of his coffee mug.
“Nothing new there,” Keigo replied, leaning in to steal a long, lingering kiss.
Soon, Rei would come knocking. She always did when Keigo left for work, taking up the responsibility as Touya's carer until he got back. Fuyumi and occasionally Shouto came, too, if they had the time. Enji less so and never alone for caution’s sake. Natsuo kept true to his promise of moving on from the Todoroki family, which was commendable.
Still, despite the strained and sometimes odd circumstances, Touya never complained. In fact, he seemed quite happy, and Keigo felt that way, too, as he made his way to the door.
There were a lot of things for him to be thankful for. His home, his family, his husband, his life, but most of all, he would never forget that persistent old lady who’d grabbed his hand on the streets of Kyushu. Wherever she was, he hoped fate had given her good fortune, just as it had him.