Chapter Thirty-Four: Apotemnophobia

Bird watching was very fun.

That was the word they thought. Fun.

Their brain was foggy and fuzzy sometimes and thoughts were there and then gone sometimes, but they knew bird watching was fun. Fun was what bird watching was. It was fun. They had watched the nice winged bird a lot and had fun even though the nice winged bird did not notice and think it was fun too.

That was okay. They did not want the nice winged bird to notice. Before they found the nice winged bird they had been alone without the nice winged bird and a girl had seen their default face and screamed. They did not know who they were before but they knew that people did not used to see their face and scream. The little girl did. That hurt their feelings. They did not like that. They did not want to make the nice bird winged scream so they did not let the nice winged bird see their face as they watched the nice winged bird.

Their master wanted the nice winged bird to scream.

Their master wanted the nice winged bird to scream and cry and plead and break.

They knew this in their everything like it was their purpose to make the nice winged bird scream.

But they liked the nice winged bird. The nice winged bird flew around sometimes with big red wings and sometimes with different clothes and no wings when it was dark. That was strange. They liked the nice winged bird even though the nice winged bird was strange and did not have wings sometimes. They liked the nice winged bird's dark winglessness outfit best— N̶͈̓ó̸͎ ̶̯̎w̴̘̚i̶̗̕n̷͉̑g̴͖͗s̶̥̃ ̵̫̏q̷͈͐u̶̖͝i̶̥͂ḙ̶͋t̷̹̋ ̶͓͊s̴̜̈e̶̳̎c̶̹̈́r̷͓̊e̸͔͛t̶̢͐?̸̧͝ They liked it more than his costume outfit and day-disguise outfit because the winged bird's winglessness outfit covered everything.

They liked the other bird too. That bird did not have wings but they knew the other bird was a bird too. They did not know why they knew. That bird was darker and solemn...er but they liked the other bird too. They did not let the other bird see them either because they knew the other bird would not like them. The other not-winged bird was very protective of the nice winged bird. That was not strange. The nice winged bird needed protection.

They knew their master wanted to hurt the birds but they did not want to hurt the birds.

So they ignored the whispers that demanded they hurt the birds.

Their mission was to watch.

They did not have other orders.

They knew the nice winged bird's scent so they could follow the nice winged bird if they wanted. They had been in the nice winged bird's home with the rabbit and they knew the nice winged bird's scent.

They had not seen the nice winged bird in a long time.

They missed the nice winged bird.

They wanted to see the nice winged bird.

Their master wanted the nice winged bird to scream and cry and hurt.

But they did not.

They. Did. Not.

Catch the birdie.

They smelled the nice winged bird.

Catch the birdie.

They wanted to see the nice winged bird.

Catch the birdie.

They followed the smell.

XXXXXXX

Shoto Todoroki was not used to smiling much. Now, he found he could not stop as he left Mustafu Animal Rescue Shelter. There were paw prints on his shirt and the bottom part was soaked from where an overeager puppy had jumped on him after a bath, but despite working hard for the past six hours, Shoto felt… content.

He stood on the corner outside the shelter as he waited for Fuyumi to come pick him up and scrolled through his phone, looking over the pictures himself and his coworker had taken. Photos of dogs, cats, rabbits, hamsters, lizards, and other animals filled his phone's album, which before today only had a couple pictures of his friends occupying it. He could not wait to show Fuyumi and their mother.

Fuyumi's car pulled up to the curb and Shoto approached. He spotted a figure in the passenger's seat and went still, falling onto his back foot, taking stock of the situation. The man did not appear to have any weapons, but tattoos lined what Shoto could see of his arms and fingers. Shoto did not know what the strange circle-like symbols with cross-like extensions on the back of his hands were, but he was certain the English letters spelling "Death" were inked on the fingers of both hands.

Fuyumi noticed him and rolled down her window. "Shoto, it's okay. This is a… friend."

Her voice was trembling. Shoto's jaw clenched and he circled the car, getting into the backseat behind the stranger.

The man glanced back at him with an apathetic expression and blandly raised his hands into the air. "I'm an Underground Pro Hero. Please don't attack me."

He spoke in a bored drawl, as if being mistaken for a Villain and attacked was a minor annoyance more than anything. In a way, he kind of reminded Shoto of Aizawa. If Aizawa wore a white leopard-print like hat, had ear piercings, and too many tattoos to count.

Shoto glanced at Fuyumi and she nodded firmly as she pulled away from the corner. Her hands were white on the wheel. "Law will be staying with me for a while. And Mom, if we stay at her place."

"Is Law your Hero name or your real one?" Shoto asked suspiciously. "Or a fake?"

Law chuckled. It was more of a dry 'heh' than a laugh. "Law is my real name. You might not appreciate my Hero moniker. I was an edgy teenager."

Shoto waited stoically.

Law matched his stoicism but eventually rolled his grey eyes, turning to the front of the car. "It's 'Death Surgeon'."

Shoto blinked. "You and my classmate would get along well. He wanted to be called 'King Explosion Murder'."

Law huffed. "If you're talking about the one who won the Sports Festival, I doubt it."

Shoto could not take offense on Bakugo's behalf at that. He looked to Fuyumi, who stared at the road ahead with a strained expression.

"Fuyumi? Why do you have a Pro Hero accompanying you?" With his suspicion over Law's appearance dealt with, something was allowed to click. He jolted upright. "Has father—?"

"It's not him." Fuyumi reassured him, but her voice was still shaking. "We just need a guard for a while. Just in case. We were supposed to have one earlier but he refused."

The earlier joy Shoto felt slipped away, leaving a horrible sinking feeling. "What aren't you saying?"

Fuyumi glanced at him in the mirror and her expression crumpled. She pulled over to the side of the road and rubbed at her eyes, breath hitching. She was terrified, Shoto realized, her breath coming in quick, shaky pants. As Shoto sat there, he watched her skin drain of color. He recognized the signs of an anxiety attack from his books but the procedures for dealing with one fled his mind, leaving him frozen. Law flicked on the hazards of the car and turned back to Fuyumi.

"Fuyumi-ya, may I touch your hand?"

Fuyumi nodded sharply and Law grasped her hand with surprising gentleness. He placed her fingertips on the tattoo on the back of his left hand and spoke, voice level and calm.

"When I was in middle school, I actually designed these tattoos during a particularly boring math class. My teacher was not pleased that I drew on myself, to say the least. Have any of your students done things like that?"

"All t-the time." Fuyumi stammered. "Once, uh, once Miki thought it would be a good idea to dye her classmate's hair using permanent markers. They snuck into the bathroom during recess and— and spent it coloring their hair." Her laugh was a little breathy, but Shoto could see her relaxing. "The teacher watching over recess did not even notice until I pointed out we now had four students with pink hair instead of two. They gave themselves hearts on their cheeks too."

"I bet their parents were happy." Law drawled.

"Not in the slightest." Fuyumi laughed.

Her breathing had evened out though she momentarily leaned on the wheel, skin still pale.

"Would you like me to drive?" Law offered.

Fuyumi nodded. She got out of the car and began circling around but abruptly went to the back seat instead, sitting next to Shoto. She grasped his hand, squeezing his fingers, and Shoto noticed her hands were as cold as her Quirk's ice. Law took the driver's seat and they continued on their way. Shoto looked from his sister's vice-like grip on his hands to her pale face and bit his lip, wondering if he should ask her what happened again. She noticed his stare and a shudder passed through her. She abruptly yanked him into tight hug.

"It could have been you."

Shoto's confusion became dread and he looked to Law for answers.

The Underground Hero met his gaze momentarily and grimaced, looking back to the road.

"Your classmate, Fumikage Tokoyami is missing." He said as Fuyumi clung to her brother. "We believe he has been kidnapped by a serial killer."

XXXXXXX

"This is a waste of time." Dabi spat.

He and Twice had gone from hideout to hideout, abandoned warehouse to warehouse, abandoned hospital to hospital, relying on Giran's info in their search to locate the stupid bird. After more than a week with absolutely nothing, Dabi had enough. He did not become a Villain to do a stupid Hero's job and save another damn Hero.

So as Twice begged him to check yet another shady and abandoned facility, Dabi's already thin patience became even thinner.

"This could be the place." Twice pleaded.

"It probably isn't." Twice contradicted a second later.

"But it could be." Twice argued.

Dabi growled and glanced behind them into the decrepit, dirty alley they had just exited before turning back to the equally decrepit, dirty warehouse they intended to search. Just like the others they had spent all week scouring. If Dabi did not know Giran so well— enough to trust his intel, anyway— he may think the information broker was scamming them. He had better not be if he did not want his goatee burnt off. Dabi did not appreciate being dragged around on a wild Hawks chase.

If they found nothing here, Dabi was done and Twice could keep searching on his own. Sure, Dabi owed Hawks— and that was the only reason he was helping other than to make sure Twice did not get himself caught by an ambitious bounty hunter— but he had better things to do.

As Twice walked right out of the alley and kicked down the door to the abandoned warehouse, Dabi resolved to let the stupid fool get himself arrested or murdered after this place and moodily followed him inside.

Oh, would you look at that.

There was nothing but dirt, more dirt, a few broken tables and windows, support beams, and dirt.

What a surprise.

Twice ignored how the dirt and dust on the floor had been undisturbed for years and walked ahead, looking around the wide open space with a careful scrutiny that Dabi might admire if he had not seen it before. He followed Twice as he carefully checked the dusty floor for any trapdoors or the like. This was such a waste of time. Unless one of Hawks's captors had a Quirk that let them move dust around, it was obvious no one had been in here in years.

Though it was a little strange that no homeless people had attempted to stay here. Still, it was similar to the other places they had been to in that regard. There were plenty of people who needed shelter in the area but they roamed around the streets instead, avoiding the places Giran sent Twice and Dabi to like they were haunted. By this point, Dabi would not mind finding a ghost. At least then they would be finding something.

Twice stopped scanning the floor— leaving trails of footprints in his wake— and headed towards the small office at the back of the warehouse. Hands in his pockets, Dabi followed, idly watching dust motes float through the air.

A shadow moved outside the window.

Dabi turned away from it, fingers flexing in his pockets, but he did not ignite them. Instead he followed Twice into the office and watched him rummage around.

"There has to be something." Twice muttered to himself.

"There's nothing at all!" Twice hissed.

"It can't be a waste of time." Twice moaned.

"Admit it. It is. Again." Twice snapped.

"DAMN IT!"

Twice's hands slammed down on the desktop and it broke in half. He stared at it and growled before he slumped in the moldy chair beside it and put his head in his hands.

"Damn it… He's probably dead by now."

Dabi could hear how much it pained him to say that. A few minutes ago he would probably agree and encourage Twice to turn that despair into an angry desire to burn Hero Society down. Now, he could not press his goals onto Twice in good conscience.

'Good conscience.' What a joke.

The hair on Dabi's nape prickled.

He was right.

They were being watched.

Dabi threw a plume of flame at the wall behind them and was rewarded by a startled yell. Twice rose from the chair, knocking it over, and dashed out of the office, mindless of the lingering flames. Dabi swore, following the idiot to make sure he did not get himself killed.

He rounded the corner in time to see Twice body slam a costumed Hero to the ground, using his measuring tape to tie his hands behind his back. The Hero struggled but Twice grabbed his head and slammed it into the dirty floor, yanking it back up by his hair.

Dabi did not recognize this Hero. He was not particularly unique. Just a brown-haired guy in a cliché Hero costume, complete with a nicely flammable cape. It was probably some low-level nobody that no one cared about. So what was he doing here?

Dabi had a feeling he knew. He put on a lazy smirk and crouched in front of Twice's captive, arms settled lightly on his bent knees. "So this is one of the Commission's best, huh? Consider me not impressed."

The anger that flickered across the Hero's expression gave him away. He seemed to realize it and sneered at the Villains, teeth bared in defiance. "You're smarter than you look, Villain."

It was hilarious that he said 'Villain' as if it were the worst insult anyone could say to a person. Dabi was almost tempted to sniffle dramatically and wipe away an imaginary tear to show just how deeply that hurt him. Instead he grabbed the Commission Hero's neck with a hand just hot enough to hurt. The Commission Hero hardly flinched, but Dabi was nowhere close to causing him pain just yet.

"So I'm guessing Twice was right about your bosses vanishing Hawks, huh?" he said calmly. Understanding dawned and he had to scoff. "Giran knew they would realize we were looking at suspicious places and send one of you to tail us. That scheming bastard."

"Where's Hawks?" Twice demanded and Dabi repressed a sigh at his impatience.

Did Twice know nothing about getting information?

Probably not, actually.

Twice did not seem like the type who needed to get intel like this. Or who had any training in that field. Dabi's lip curled in disgust. He wondered what dear old Endeavor would think if he knew what Dabi ended up using the 'heroic' interrogation skills he had been taught for. He might approve since it was only on criminals up until now, that bastard. Wait, scratch that. Endeavor would not approve of anything Dabi did even if he ended world hunger, brought about galaxy-wide peace, and saved cute little kittens from trees.

"You won't get anything out of me, Villain." the Commission Hero sneered.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Dabi drawled. "Twice, tie him to that pole would you?"

Twice did as he asked. Dabi noticed he tied the bonds just a little too tightly. He approved. Twice glanced from the Hero to Dabi and rocked back and forth impatiently.

"Now what?"

"We're going to make him talk." Dabi said steadily.

Twice squinted at him. It was an uncomfortably innocent expression for a grown man and Villain. "Huh?"

Dabi met his genuinely confused gaze with a steady one of his own. Damn, Twice was too nice of a guy for this. He was by no means innocent or blameless, but at his core he was a kind man with a soft heart. Dabi was a monster, but he…

He…

He did not want to see Twice lose that. It was simply unnecessary was all.

So Dabi stepped forward and put a hand on Twice's shoulder. Twice looked from it to the Commission Hero and back again and his eyes went wide as he realized what Dabi was planning.

"Go outside, Twice." Dabi said softly.

Twice went outside.

As he left, Dabi saw him cover his ears.

XXXXXXX

Tokoyami was never alone. With Dark Shadow, that was an impossibility, but he often preferred the single companionship of his Quirk to socialization and hanging out with friends. Now, Tokoyami found himself desperate for any interaction with a person that was not his kidnapper or that Nomu that always hid her face in the shadow of her hat.

He wished desperately for shadows as well. How he wished he could have some darkness. Even the faint outline his own body could make would suite him just fine.

Bright lights illuminated his isolated room from every angle. The only shadows left were a small one directly under Tokoyami's feet and one from the thin chain around his wrist which kept him attached to a wall. Even his bed— consisting of a bolted down pad and no blankets— was on the floor, preventing Dark Shadow from climbing under anything for some darkness.

As a result, his Quirk was becoming as bedraggled as him. In fact, he could not recall Dark Shadow being so small and thin since he was a child. He was almost smaller than Tokoyami's hand now.

Tokoyami thought Quirk-personality link theories were mostly garbage but he could not deny the increasing anxiety with each passing light-filled hour. Like most humans needed sunlight or they'd become despondent and stressed, Tokoyami and Dark Shadow needed shadows and darkness.

He did not know why Dark Shadow did not merely retreat into him like he normally would. Had their captor— who serenely introduced himself as Kaetsu— done something to prevent Dark Shadow from finding even that reprieve from this hellish world of light, or was it Tokoyami's own fear making him not want to be alone, thus forcing his Quirk to remain?

At least he was being fed. It was just instant ramen and water but it was something. The noodles were getting harder to choke down due to nausea but Tokoyami was glad to at least have some food in his stomach. He did not know why this Villain had kidnapped him and Hawks but he hoped he would not find out. It was inevitable that he would so he needed to have all the strength he could. Until then, he was stuck with his thoughts and half-baked plans.

There was nothing in this room that could help. The only furnishing in the desolate room was a small television on the wall. There was no remote and he could not reach the screen to turn it on himself so it was as useless as any other decoration. Tokoyami preferred that to the alternative. He'd seen enough horror movies to guess what he'd see once it was on. He wondered if Hawks had one in his room. He could not see any cameras but that did not mean there were none.

Tokoyami could not see Hawks but he knew he was here. Their captor had told him as much. And if he strained his ears, he occasionally heard the sounds of a struggle and flesh hitting flesh. Was Hawks fighting whenever Kaetsu came in?

If Hawks was fighting, he wasn't winning. He would have barged through the door with a grin and told Tokoyami it was time to hightail it out of there if he had. Tokoyami doubted their captor had taken it well when Hawks fought back and could only hope his mentor had not been injured too badly. He was not sure he could get himself and an injured Hawks out of here, wherever here was.

With nothing better to do, Tokoyami crawled into bed to fall asleep.

He had barely closed his eyes when the screaming started.

XXXXXXX

The room was brighter. In hindsight, it had been brighter for a few cycles now. More lighting fixtures had been added, lighting up the room enough that it could almost be mistaken for a hospital room. That uncomfortable brightness was the first thing Hawks noticed when he opened his eyes.

It had been maybe another ten cycles of Kaetsu sleeping beside him since he left to run his 'errands'. Cycles, not days, because Hawks could not trust that Kaetsu only came in every night. It didn't really matter. Hawks was beginning to lose track anyway. Keeping a mental count was not doing anything. All that mattered was Kaetsu was here. Hawks felt Kaetsu's breath on the back of his neck and kept still, hoping not to wake him.

It was difficult not to move because Kaetsu's arm lay over his hip where he'd injected him again, sending twinges of pain from the site due to the unwanted pressure. That was another reason Hawks could not say it was ten days. Kaetsu had injected him with that unknown substance eighteen more times already and Hawks still had no idea what his handler was shooting into his body. The lack of notable side effects did not give him any peace of mind. He tried not to fear what it could be doing to his body.

Hawks had been given five meals in total. He'd had twelve more bathroom trips. He had not been allowed to wash up, with Kaetsu pulling him out of the stall before he could attempt to even put water in his hair. The locks were grimy and on the verge of becoming greasy, laying limp atop Hawks's head. Crusted blood covered his injuries and clothes, and some of them were starting to itch. Would Kaetsu care if they got infected?

The cut on his ankle was particularly worrying. Its swelling had increased, and it was becoming difficult to stand on that leg. Hawks's other ankle was not doing much better, becoming chaffed and rubbed raw from the manacle. His wrists had their own bracelets of purple bruises from Kaetsu's grip.

Hawks felt Kaetsu shift and the arm was removed from his side. He heard his handler pad away and come back. He braced himself and did not flinch as the needle pierced his skin. Other than the pain and sting, he felt nothing. Kaetsu removed the syringe and set it far out of Hawks's reach. Then he began yanking the tiny feathers out of Hawks's wings again, plucking them out one by one. Hawks did not flinch. It was all routine now.

Hawks kept his eyes shut and tried to focus on anything but his wings and the feeling of Kaetsu's nails scraping the bloodied appendages. Kaetsu tossed the last useless feather into the bin and stroked Hawks's grimy hair like an owner caressed their pet.

"You've been so good for me." Kaetsu murmured. "I almost don't want to bring my gift to you just yet." He kissed Hawks's cheek and Hawks felt him smiling. "How about I let you wash up instead?"

Hawks's insides turned to ice.

Kaetsu did not carry him to the bathroom this time. Instead a collar closed around Hawks's neck and he was dragged along in circles. Kaetsu did not slow as Hawks stumbled and wobbled like a newborn calf behind him, limping heavily as each step caused pain to lance up his legs.

He was shoved into a room and heard the clank of metal being attached before Kaetsu ripped the blindfold off of him. His handler immediately stepped outside and shut the door, locking it with a metallic click.

Hawks hesitated, cautiously taking in his surroundings. He was in another bathroom that was slightly larger than the one he was used to. This was had a shower and bathtub. His chain had been attached to the wall next to it. Hawks ignored the manacle for the moment and inspected the shower instead, trying to glean whatever information he could from his surroundings.

The sink, toilet, and tub were all grimy and covered with dirt and gunk, but in an old, stained way that suggested they had not been used in years. The tiles lining the shower walls were a pale, pastel blue. Chunks of caulk were missing from between them and many were cracked. Mold grew in the empty spaces, mostly green but with some darker black shades that he should avoid touching.

The shower head was thin and long, but Hawks could see it was bolted down and sturdy enough that he would be unable to pull it out of the wall without tools.

Overall, the shower looked very generic and standard.

Not standard for a house, but definitely for a public place.

We're in a hospital.

An abandoned one if the cracked walls and grimy tiles were any indication. Hawks eyed the metal plate holding his chain to the wall and noticed it was newer than everything else. He felt a tiny bit better at that, because that meant the hospital's former workers were not chaining their patients to things.

Hopefully.

Hawks turned on the water and let the loud splashing noise cover his attempts to yank the chain out of the wall. It did not budge and he gave up on that endeavor, accepting he was still stuck. There was no mirror to break for some shards either.

Hawks reluctantly put any escape plans on hold and stepped into the shower.

Showering was nerve-wracking. Hawks washed as quickly as he could, glancing nervously towards the door as he braced himself for Kaetsu to open it. His handler refrained and Hawks managed to wash the shampoo out of his hair and blood off his skin with trembling hands, but no incidents. He kept the water running as he stepped out, hoping to give himself some extra time.

As he emerged, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the metal of the showerhead. Warped as it was, it was easy to see the bruises and cuts on his face. He had not even known he had a cut across his cheek and over his nose. Any pain the injury caused was lost by the constant ache of the others.

He wrapped the towel around his chest and quickly shoved his costume under the water in an attempt to get at least some of the blood and grime off. Only a bit washed out and he reluctantly removed it from the running water, shaking it out as much as he could before putting them back on. He preferred wet clothes to bloody ones. If he got sick Kaetsu might have to take him to a doctor.

Hawks recalled what doctors might be available and shivered. He kept the water running and sat on the soaked floor, staring at the door. The collar pulled at his neck but other than to lean back enough that he could breathe, Hawks did not bother moving.

Kaetsu retrieved him without a fuss and Hawks was chained in his room again.

He did not even struggle.

The voices were still cut off but Hawks could practically hear Orange in his head, screaming at him that he was pathetic and condemning him for giving up so easily.

Hawks lay on the bed, resigning himself to more hours or days or weeks with useless, berating truths about his cowardly nature circling in his head and no plan for an escape. Then he heard breathing and noticed Kaetsu had not left. He turned back to his handler and saw—

Kaetsu had his knife out.

In his other hand was a hacksaw.

Hawks jerked his sight away from it and focused on the wall, heart crawling into his throat. He pressed his back against the headboard with his legs curled defensively to his chest, but thought better of it. Instead he dove beneath the bed like a terrified dog.

Kaetsu grabbed the chain around his ankle and yanked on it but Hawks desperately clung to the leg of the bed. He curled up to keep his ankles out of reach as Kaetsu's hand appeared under the bed and groped for him. He did not know why he bothered hiding since it would only delay the inevitable.

Sure enough, Kaetsu's pulls grew rougher until he forced Hawks's leg straight and into his range. A hand grasped Hawks's ankle and he was dragged out from under the bed. Kaetsu did not bother to try to lift him onto the mattress and pinned him stomach down on the floor.

Kaetsu's knife ruthlessly tore through cloth and skin, leaving shallow gashes from his back to his thighs. Kaetsu's rough fingers grasped torn wings and ripped the few remaining feathers out of the already bloody appendages.

Hawks's eyes went round and his jaw went wide in pain. Hoarse, inhuman screams tore themselves from his throat and he tried to shove Kaetsu off but he was weak and useless and pathetic so the larger man did not budge an inch. Hawks tried to fight anyway, out of desperation and fear more than defiance, and Kaetsu laughed in his face.

In an instant control of his limbs was taken from Hawks, as simply as plucking a flower from the dirt.

Kaetsu had finally used his Quirk on him.

Hawks's body went limp, unable to move as Kaetsu kissed his neck and gently caressed his right wing. The control was not complete— because Kaetsu wanted him to beg— and half-spoken pleas mixed with his hysterical, wordless whimpers.

Kaetsu shushed him. "Shh, Angel. I'm not angry at you. I know it's not your fault your feathers keep growing back. Your Quirk is so beautiful. So nearly perfect."

He brushed a hand over Hawks's stinging wing again and Hawks went silent, staring unblinkingly at the wall as a grey tinge crept across his vision. He felt Kaetsu move and his chest heaved with each hitching breath. Kaetsu stopped caressing his wing and stroked his hair instead. The motion was smooth and rhythmic, and from anyone else it might be soothing.

"You should be grateful for what you have, you know. The Commission ran some tests and they say you can regenerate your wings as long as part of the bones remain."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hawks saw Kaetsu pick up the saw.

He could not move.

He could not move.

"It won't be permanent, but it'll take a while for your wings to grow back." Kaetsu continued calmly. "Maybe by then you'll deserve them."

Hawks could not move.

He could not move.

He could not move.

Hawks tried he tried he tried to move, to do something, anything. He could only shut his eyes. Images of his future self's bloody back filled his mind so he forced them open, focusing on the blank white wall as Kaetsu grabbed his right wing.

It did not take long for Hawks to begin screaming again.

Eventually the pain became too much and Hawks slipped into merciful unconsciousness.

He woke on the bed.

The first thing he noticed Kaetsu was not with him.

The second was the blankets smelled like blood.

The third was his back hurt.

Hawks tried to sit up but his limbs felt weak, trembling violently as his vision doubled. He took short, panting breaths as he forced himself upright, leaning heavily against the headboard at his right side. Something pulled and he realized there were large patches of gauze taped to his shoulder blades.

His back felt too light.

The familiar weight of his wings wasn't there.

They weren't there—

Afraid to look, Hawks desperately felt his shoulder blade through the gauze, ignoring how the tape pulled at his skin.

His fingers slid along smooth gauze and nudged small bumps. A vague feeling of detachment washed over him.

Hawks could not be certain through the gauze but it seemed— seemed because it's not true it's not true it's not— his wings had been severed through the bone only a couple inches from his skin.

He forced himself to look and his fragile grip on denial broke. Instead of bones hanging down, there were only two small bumps on his shoulder blades. Those were all that remained of his wings.

That was fine.

It was fine.

They had never been so badly damaged before, but Kaetsu said they would grow back.

They would grow back.

They would.

A keening sob built in Hawks's throat and he muffled it with a hand. Another, louder one broke through and he pressed his hand hard against his mouth, curling up on the bed and biting his pointer finger hard enough to draw blood. He could not cry. Good Heroes did not cry. Kaetsu would be angrier if he cried.

Especially since he deserved this.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry…

XXXXXXX

Hawks had stopped screaming a while ago.

Every time Tokoyami let his thoughts drift, he heard his former mentor's agonized screams cut off. Sometimes it was an abrupt shift from sound to silence. Other times his memories changed and he swore he heard a wet gurgle.

Tokoyami prayed his memory was faulty and playing tricks on him. It had to be, but whenever he tried to close his eyes and rest, images of Hawks laying in a pool of red as he choked on his own blood plagued his mind. He could not sleep and was almost glad, knowing his nightmares would be filled with graphic images of what could possibly be his mentor's death—

No.

No.

Hawks was not dead.

Surely their captor would have come to gloat if he was.

Tokoyami tried to reassure himself that the Villain would do such a thing as he paced back and forth in his too-bright room, dragging his hands through his feathers. For once Dark Shadow was much more put-together than he, and murmured reassurances in his ears.

No, Hawks was not still screaming.

No, Hawks was not laying in the corner drenched in red, staring accusingly at Tokoyami with empty golden eyes.

No, Tokoyami was not alone and waiting to die too, because their captor would have come to gloat about Hawks's death. He would have. He would have.

Hawks was not dead.

Hawks was not dead.

Hawks was not dead.

Tokoyami heard the click of a lock.

He backed away from the door as much as he could and glared at it, ignoring how his heart beat as frantically as a hummingbird's wings.

The door opened to reveal the Nomu woman. She stepped inside silently and shut the door behind her. Kaetsu was nowhere in sight. Tokoyami kept an eye on her as he remained close to his wall. His chain was too short to be much use as a weapon but he might be able to dodge if she rushed him.

The Nomu woman looked up, letting him see blank white eyes, and his breath caught in his throat.

If he did not know better, he would swear he was looking at an older, distorted version of Kyoka Jiro.

It was not a kind revelation.

Tokoyami's thoughts whirled with all the possibilities and he desperately thought back to the last time he had heard anything about his classmate. They were all on vacation, but hadn't Yaoyorozu mentioned spending time with her for her birthday? Surely the League of Villains could not turn someone into a Nomu that quickly. Was Kaetsu with the League?

The not-Jiro Nomu stepped closer to Tokoyami. It was a small, measured step that reminded him of a video he had seen of a tiger stalking its prey. Dark Shadow quivered but raised its too-thin arms, curling its hands into fists as it floated in front of Tokoyami. Tokoyami tried not to think about how a light breeze would probably be enough to bat Dark Shadow aside.

The Nomu stepped closer.

Closer again.

Closer, until it loomed over him.

He had not noticed how tall it was. It rivaled All Might in height. Even with the deceptively human clothes it wore, he could see its body was also undeniably feminine. Tokoyami had no doubt it could easily snap his neck with a single hand.

The Nomu did not snap his neck.

It did not touch him either.

It simply stared at him with a distantly serene expression. That serenity unnerved him more than the emptiness he had seen in other Nomu because serenity suggested there was some type of sentience in there instead of a completely hollow shell.

Then the Nomu smiled at him, revealing sharp teeth.

They were covered in blood.

"P̴̱͝r̷̈͜e̴̻̿t̶̝͘t̷̼̚y̸̖̚ ̸͎̈́b̵́ͅi̸̓͜r̸͇͝d̸̢̍.̴̢̍." it said, voice guttural and distorted.

Tokoyami's mind and body went numb and fell to his knees, slumping against the wall. If the Nomu had attacked him then, he doubted he would even feel it. He barely noticed as the Nomu left, locking the door behind it. Dark Shadow wrapped around him, trembling violently, and he belatedly realized he was the one shaking.

He huddled against the wall of the too-bright room with Dark Shadow desperately clinging to him and did not bother to muffle his sobs.

XXXXXXX

A/N: The next chapter will be up between the 11th and the 13th-ish.