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Here is the art by my bang partner, @/Glo_Glo_Boots on twitter!!!!! <3
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Keigo used to love walking the city streets.
He used to eat up the limelight like he was born there, letting his wings unfurl and watching civilians ooh and ahh at them. Keigo lovedfeeling like he was really making a difference, like everything he went through was really worth it. It made him feel useful, made him think that maybe he was born to do this just like the commission said.
Now, though…
Now he walks the streets to a soundtrack of silence. Things are still so quiet after the war ended, the dull sidewalks half-destroyed and devoid of life. The only sounds he usually hears now come from construction sites trying to repair the damage from the war. Sometimes he can hear the occasional whispered comments, or outright jeers, from the people he used to protect. Sometimes they’re overt, calling him murderer and liar and useless and all the other names he deserves. Sometimes they just give him this sad little stare, like they can’t decide whether to hate him or pity him.
The tiny, barely-there stumps of his wings flutter uselessly at his back.
He doesn’t walk the streets much these days.
Instead he stays inside, hiding himself away. It’s stupid, silly, shameful of him to do it, but he can’t seem to bring himself to care. He’s always prided himself on his optimism, but after everything they’ve seen, everything they’ve lost…
Sometimes, he wonders what the point of it all was.
On some level he always knew this was coming. There was no way he could keep his past a secret forever, and he was a fool to hope that things wouldn’t change when everything came out. But that explosion of drama was nothing. Now…
Now there’s nothing to distract from how alone he feels, how even the sun seems to have lost its shine. There’s nothing exciting about a lifetime on the ground, when he’s always, always been meant for the air. There’s nothing to smile about. Not when he watched his life’s purpose evaporate before his eyes. Not when he realized that, even though his wings are still technically there, he’ll probably never be able to use them again.
That was a dark day. That was a day full of too many drinks and too few words, full of tears and curses and broken pleas for… something. He didn’t know what, but something—anything—to take away the emptiness burning a hole inside his chest.
He should be grateful. Hawks helped stop the greatest villain Japan has ever seen. He played his part flawlessly, ensuring that Tokoyami and the other kids made it out in one piece. He even managed to smile through it all, even when he was so weak and burned and broken that he could barely move. Even then, he saw the bright side.
Now, he avoids Tokoyami’s calls because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. How can he be a mentor now, when he isn’t a hero?
Keigo stays in his too-big apartment. He has groceries delivered, but he doesn’t cook much. He watches bad daytime tv, reads a book or two occasionally, and tries to relearn how to exist without his feathers taking up too much space on his body. He finds that he’s cold no matter how many blankets he wraps around himself, because he can’t wrap his wings around his body to trap the heat.
After a while, he realizes that it’s been weeks since he’s talked to anyone. He’s barely even keeping tabs on the world outside. He’s checked in enough to know that nothing crazy has happened, but beyond that it’s radio silence.
What would be the point? He isn’t a hero anymore. He isn’t important anymore.
It’s a strange thing, to not know who you are. Keigo stares at himself and doesn’t recognize the person there. His mind flickers between derealization and distress and desperation. No matter how he tries, he can’t seem to find a person beneath the wings and, dimly, he wonders whether he was ever really a person at all.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s all he ever was; just a bunch of feathers masquerading in human form. Maybe all he is is hero and wings and assassin and spy , and maybe he doesn’t know how to be anything else.
Keigo laughs about it sometimes. He wanted this, didn’t he? He wanted a world where heroes have time to relax, to be themselves and enjoy life. But now that he has it, it makes him want to claw his own body apart.
Mirko and Tokoyami come to see him one afternoon. Tokoyami looks like he came straight from school, still in his uniform and holding a bag of food from Keigo’s favorite place that he offers to him with a pained look on his face. Rumi hides her expression a little bit better than the kid, clapping Keigo on the shoulder and proclaiming that they should sit down for a bite, but Keigo can tell that she’s worried too.
They sit down to eat, and Keigo tries to smile and make small talk like he’s supposed to. But he’s out of practice, and eventually goes silent, tuning out the conversation and picking at his food absently. They’re talking about work. Tokoyami is excited about the upcoming internship season, and Keigo bites his tongue to keep from asking where he’s going to be placed. He wants to know, and he really doesn’t at the same time. He should be happy for the kid, but it feels too much like rubbing salt in a wound for him to handle at the moment. Meanwhile, Rumi is going on about some villain that she and Jeanist caught the other day—a low-level guy, someone that Keigo would have had no problem apprehending.
When they finally leave, concern still written all over their faces, Keigo feels even worse than he did before they came.
Trying to help him is a waste of time, really. Keigo is stuck feeling sorry for himself, rendered paralyzed by something so stupid that he should be over it already. That same something keeps him stewing in his own thoughts anyway, descending further and further down a deep, dark pit until he feels like he wants to fly away.
The thought makes him laugh. Ironic, huh? He can’t, even if he wants to.
—----
Hakamada is the next one to check in. Frankly, Keigo is surprised that it took him this long.
He answers his phone after two rings, an old habit from his hero days, and picks himself up off of the couch slowly. “Hello?”
“Hawks.”
Something weird settles in the pit of Keigo’s stomach upon hearing that. That name doesn’t feel like his … not anymore.
“I need your help.”
Suddenly something turns into everything , emotion crashing through him in waves. It feels like the world has been turned on its head, for the moment. People don’t need his help anymore. They always needed the wings, and now…
Keigo swallows. “What’s going on?” He’s just desperate enough to ask. Desperate enough to feel needed again.
“There’s a case I’m working on that could use your expertise.”
Keigo opens his mouth, intent on saying that he doesn’t have any expertise anymore, but Jeanist butts in before he can.
“I’d like your assistance to help coordinate a response and rescue team.”
He knows what this is, what Hakamada is doing. He’s doing what he always does, seeing right through Keigo just like usual. And yet, Keigo is just stupid enough to believe him. He’s starving to be useful again and hungry enough that he finds himself nodding before he can stop himself.
“Sure,” he says, trying to inject some energy into his voice. “I’ll fly over—”
He stops. Clenches his fist. Bites his tongue. Feels the phantom fluttering sensation at his back. Fights the low ache that strikes firm in his chest, piercing and deadly. “I’ll be there soon,” he chokes out. Then he hangs up the phone before Jeanist can say something stupid like it’ll get better.
Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. Maybe he doesn’t care anymore, now that he’s adrift at sea without a land mass in sight.
—----
The knock on his door comes a few days after the phone call.
Consulting with Best Jeanist was somehow more exhausting than most other things Keigo has done since losing his wings. Half of him was fucking elated to be back in the fight, at least in some capacity, and the other half of him wanted to disappear and never come back. That part of him felt smaller than he ever had, surrounded by people who still have power, still have purpose. Keigo could only twitch his tiny stubs of wings and try to ignore the stares from the people wondering what the hell he was doing there.
Seems like Jeanist decided to intervene once more. The man was always too good at knowing how to read him, as much as Keigo tried to keep his emotions in check.
He cracks his back as he ambles towards the door, pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t changed his clothes in at least a day, but he can’t find it in himself to care about that.
It’s a couple of minutes before he makes it to the front door, and he half-hopes that whoever is on the other side has gone away by now. Unfortunately, Hakamada was never the type to give up easily. Keigo sighs and pulls the door open, intending to plaster on a smile and tell Hakamada to turn around and go right back where he came from.
“What’d’ya want, Jeanist…”
Keigo’s voice dies. It isn’t Best Jeanist standing at his door.
“Takami,” the lanky man says, rubbing at the back of his neck and smiling down at him. And it really is down; he’s a lot taller than Keigo expected, even without the solid, 500 pound wall of muscle. “Hello.”
Keigo blinks stupidly for a few minutes, feeling something rising up and churning in the pit of his stomach. In all the years he’s been a hero, he’s only really met this man a handful of times. Most of the time their paths never crossed, and when they did there was usually some distance between them. As a kid, Keigo never really had the same fanboy attitude towards him that everyone else did.
…So what the hell is this? Why is he here now, when Keigo—when he has nothing to give, nothing to offer, no reason to warrant any of this attention from people who have better things to do?
“...All Might?”
The man in question shakes his head. “Toshinori, please.”
“...Right.” Keigo stares at him dumbly, trying to kickstart his brain back into gear and find the words that he’s looking for. “Toshinori. Um… What are you—”
Something catches in throat, when he tries and fails to flex his wings instinctively and remembers the events of the past few days. “Did Hakamada send you?”
The look on All— Toshinori’s face gives him away. “Not… Not really?” He smiles sheepishly. “He mentioned that… You might need someone to talk to.”
So, it’s pity now. He supposes that’s probably all this has ever been. “Thanks,” he says drily. “But I’m fine.”
Despite the clear dismissal Toshinori doesn’t leave, watching Keigo curiously. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just watching Keigo calmly from the doorway. It feels like some sort of test that Keigo doesn’t know whether he’s passing or failing. Keigo’s ears burn; he probably should at least invite him in, or something, but he can’t even bring himself to do that.
Finally, Toshinori smiles. “I told him you’d say that,” he says, laughing. “It’s what I said, too.”
Something clenches in Keigo’s gut. He knows the story, they all do, but he can’t help himself as he opens his mouth to ask about it. Suddenly it feels like everything slams into him one giant wave, all the guilt and worthlessness and anger and pain bubbling over wildly, suddenly. The tide rises faster than Keigo is ready for, and he looks down at the floor to keep it from showing on his face.
Why, why, why can’t he be steady on his feet for once ?
Toshinori steps closer, giving Keigo a knowing look before he can speak again. That look cuts right to the core, and suddenly even though they barely know each other Keigo feels like they are the only two people in the world.
“Come on,” Toshinori says, jerking his head backwards. “How about we get some air for a little while?”
Keigo swallows down the impulse to say no, as much as he wants to continue wallowing in his own personal hole of self-pity and resentment. He isn’t stupid; he knows that he shouldn’t squander an opportunity to spend time with the former Number One. Even though he’s never harbored the starstruck blind devotion to All Might that everyone else has, Toshinori’s still incredible. And he’s… Keigo doesn’t want to think about why he’s really here, what they both have in common and what they’ve both lost. But he knows that he’s lost, and All Might might be the best and only compass he’ll ever get.
At the very least, if Keigo turned him down he would feel bad for wasting his time.
“Yeah,” he mutters, fighting down bile when he tries to send a feather to grab his jacket and remembers that he has to walk across the room instead. “Alright.”
—--
They don’t speak much as they make their way down the street. Keigo keeps glancing up at him, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Toshinori just keeps walking, humming quietly to himself as Keigo roasts himself alive with the fires of his own thoughts.
Finally, just when Keigo thinks Toshinori is never going to speak at all, he says, “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
Most would agree. But all Keigo can see is the crystal clear sky that he’ll never touch again, mocking him with its splendor. “Yeah,” he mutters, eyes downcast. “I guess.”
“I never did enough of this, back in the day.”
“Mmm.” Keigo shoves his hands in his pockets, his head tilted down towards the ground. He can’t remember the last time he was actually out in public like this. If he looks up, will he see the glaring, accusing stares from civilians, the same way he used to after Dabi’s broadcast?
Toshinori is quiet for a few more minutes and the two of them walk in silence. But eventually he clears his throat. “I mean it,” he says, his voice quiet. “I missed all this, while I was busy being All Might. I never really got time to just… walk the streets. Talk to people. All the little things, y’know?”
“So?” The bitterness leaks into his voice before he can stop himself. “What, did you come here to rub all that in my face?”
Oh. Oh wow. Where did that come from?
Toshinori seems to take it in stride, shaking his head. “No. I just… You used to do a lot of this, right?”
“Yeah. And now I don’t,” Keigo snapped. Stop it. Stop being a dick when people are making an effort for you, oh my god—
“Maybe you should,” Toshinori says, still in that quiet tone of voice. “There’s more to life than being a hero, Takami.”
There’s a thousand ways he wants to respond to that question. But before he can, they’re interrupted by a voice down the street.
“Hawks!” Keigo barely suppresses a wince, but he looks up and sees a college-aged kid skidding to a stop in front of them. “Hawks! And—Oh man, All Might, too, wow…”
“Hi,” Keigo mutters, trying to keep his voice even.
The kid rubs his hands together, chewing on his bottom lip. “I, um… Oh man, I just, uh…”
Toshinori laughs. “It’s alright kid, we don’t have anywhere to be.”
Speak for yourself. Keigo wants to be as far away from here as possible. Away from here, away from people who still think he’s a hero when he feels like anything but.
The kid swallows, holding up his head to look Keigo in the eye. “I, uh, just wanted to say… We miss seeing you around here, y’know? My sister—you saved her from a building collapse a while back—She was really worried about you. After… what happened…” Keigo doesn’t miss the way that he subtly glances at his back. “Just… come by more often, okay? We own a small ramen shop up the block, we’d love to have you.”
“...Oh,” Keigo says, blinking stupidly. “I—”
“I just mean that—You’ve helped so many people, y’know? We like having you around.”
“... Thanks.” His lip curls upward in a small smile. The kid runs off before he can say anything else, leaving him standing there with a million thoughts rattling around in his head.
Eventually, when he doesn’t move, Toshinori rests a hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” he says softly. “How ‘bout we get something to eat? My treat.”
Keigo can only nod, letting Toshinori lead him forward.
—---
Eventually, they wind up sitting on a park bench, somewhere off the beaten track, at the end of the most confusing day that Keigo has ever had. After lunch they made their way towards a small cafe, into a bookstore, through a dog park, and past a couple of other random places that Keigo has never been to before.
It’s not like he and All Might were ever the best of friends. Hell, they were barely even acquaintances before all this, and now, suddenly, they’re spending the whole day together like they’ve known each other all their lives.
It feels… strange. Good, Keigo thinks, but so profoundly strange. He’s been trapped in a hole of self-pity and misery for so long that he’s almost forgotten what good felt like.
But now, sitting here, the confusion builds to a breaking point, growing into something more like frustration as Toshinori calmly stares out towards the sunset. Keigo feels the stubs on his back instinctively twitch when he looks at the sky, and the small movement abruptly reminds him of everything he’s been trying to avoid.
Keigo sighs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “What are you doing here, man?”
Toshinori glances down at him, taking in his hunched-over posture. “What do you mean?”
He groans. “Hakamada just wanted to know I was still alive. You didn’t need to stay here all day to prove that.”
“No, I guess I didn’t.”
“Then, can I go home now?” Can he go home and go back to pretending that he’s still worth half a damn?
There’s silence, for a few moments. Keigo is about to get up and leave, when finally, Toshinori hangs his head.
“I thought I wanted to die, for a long time,” he says.
Keigo tenses, but he doesn’t move.
Toshinori doesn’t acknowledge him, instead leaning back against the bench and staring up at the sky. “I thought… I knew I would lose my power eventually. I thought I would die in the process. But when I didn’t … I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.”
Keigo feels his hands start to shake as the words hit home. It feels so similar to everything he’s been thinking.
“Even though I lived, I just… I felt worthless. I felt like there wasn’t a point to me anymore, if I couldn’t help anybody. I was supposed to be All Might, y’know? What could I do now that only Toshinori was left?”
Keigo swallows, feeling his eyes burn with unshed tears. “...Yeah,” he says, his voice cracking.
“I wanted to disappear. It felt like dying, watching everyone look to me for help but being powerless to do anything for them. And even when I was helping, I still felt like… Like it was all wrong. Like I wasn’t doing enough.”
It’s like every fucked up emotion inside Keigo’s head has been thrust into the open in someone else’s voice. He hangs his head, trying to blink the tears away. “I should be grateful,” he mutters, letting out a bitter laugh. “I lived, didn’t I? So many people didn’t. But it’s like… I feel like half of me got ripped away from me and turned to ash, and I’m not sure what’s left. I don’t think I know who I am anymore.” He glances up at Toshinori, his eyes shining. “What am I supposed to do with that, huh?”
The two of them are silent for a long time, letting the words hang in the air like a noose around both of their necks. Keigo should have guessed, really, that he and Toshinori had something in common, but he never thought that they would actually get to talk about it. He wasn’t even sure that he wanted to, but now that Toshinori is here he’s clinging to him like a lifeline, desperate to hold onto whatever this is before the sun goes down and the moment slips away.
Finally, Toshinori sighs, reaching over to rest a hand on Keigo’s shoulder. “You were on top of the world for your entire adult life. Literally and figuratively. Coming down from a high like that is a shock to your system.”
Keigo just stares at him as he chuckles softly. “Aizawa said that to me, after Kamino,” Toshinori continues, “I was so lost, and all it took was a conversation with Eraserhead to smack some sense into me. ‘Can’t cure a workaholic,’ he said.”
Despite it all, Keigo laughs. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“I’ll tell you what he told me,” Toshinori says softly. “You can still do plenty for them, even without your wings. You can live. You can be here.”
Keigo scoffs, but Toshinori meets his eyes with a serious stare. “I mean it.” His voice brooks no argument. “You’re young. You’ve got more experience than almost anyone else. You’re good, Takami. The world needs that. Sometimes, someone like that is all the push someone needs.”
Keigo thinks back to their encounter on the street earlier in the day. You’ve helped so many people, you know? We like having you around. “I…” Everything hurts. “I’ve been trying to power through, y’know? Especially for Tokoyami… I wanted to be there for him, but this whole time, I’ve been thinking that he’s better off without a shitty, flightless bird for a mentor.” He laughs, bitterly, brokenly.
Toshinori nods, like he expected that. “I felt the same. I kept thinking that there was nothing left that I could do. But as time went by, I realized that I wasn’t done yet. I was just different.”
“I—”
Toshinori smiles at him. “You’re not, either. I know it feels like you need to reinvent who you are— trust me, I know. It feels like you lost everything, but you’ve still got plenty left. And yeah, it hurts, and it’s gonna feel like shit for a while, but you’re more than just the wings. You always were. Your approval rating was what got you to the top in the first place, remember? The wings didn’t do that. You did.”
Keigo’s cheeks are wet, and they burn as a blush spreads across his face. He never admired All Might the way he did Endeavor, but it’s still high praise coming from the former Number One. “...Thanks,” he finally says, his voice thick. He can’t quite manage anything else.
Toshinori’s smile gets wider. “You’re still you. You lost a piece of yourself—and that sucks, it really does. I’m really sorry that happened—but there are plenty of pieces left. You just need to rearrange them to make a new picture.”
Keigo wants to say something snarky about speaking in metaphors like a grandpa, but the words don’t come. He stares down at the ground, thinking— really thinking—about Toshinori’s words.
… Can he really do it? Can he really learn to be Hawks without the wings? Keigo has no idea. But… maybe he doesn’t have to be Hawks. Maybe he can be something else, something new and brilliant and just as beautiful.
There’s more to life than being a hero, Takami. Maybe there is. Maybe there isn’t. But having the chance to find out…
Having his wings reduced to tiny bones felt like wrapping a chain around his neck. But maybe it’s simply a different kind of flight, a chance to leave the nest for good and start something new.
Everything still feels like shit. He’s still trapped in a dark cloud, struggling to find the sun again.
But for the first time, he thinks he’s starting to see a speck of light peeking through. Keigo smiles, letting a few tears leak out as he and Toshinori watch the sun set below the trees.