Hawks wings drip with rain; a heavy mass of soaking feathers that refuse to dry no matter how often he flapps them. Tonight's patrol had been made all the harder for the awful weather, and he was just thankful a light drizzle had occurred throughout most of it, instead of the downpour he was currently facing. But, all things considered, much as he often hated the rain, he was grateful for the distraction. His meeting with the head of the commission had been less than fruitful on his part, still no real progress to report concerning the league and time was not on his side, as he had been reminded with abrupt words and disappointed scowls.

An agitated sigh escapes his weary body and his bones buzz with a restlessness he normally dispells by flying, but that's not an option right now. The one disadvantage to being a bird. Though, if he's being honest with himself, he knows it's his hero license that gives him free reign to fly. Anyone stops him all he has to do is say he's on a case, and no one'll question it. Which should be more concerning, given his current close proximity with the league. Okay, close if kinda pushing it. If he can just get Dabi to introduce him to Shigarkai, that'll surely make it easier to-

''Excuse me?'' A bubbly voice stops him in his tracks, and he turns to the speaker. A young woman, early twenties if he had to guess, smart enough to actually carry an umbrella which is more than can be said for him. Maybe she should be the number two hero.

''Can I help you, miss?'' Pushing his petulant thoughts aside, Hawks makes sure to shoot a winning smile in her direction, the better to put people at ease. He hopes she isn't about to ask for a lift home in this rain because he can't provide that right now. What he can do is walk her home, especially given how late it is. The woman beams at him, her cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson and Hawks thinks he knows what this is about. His feathers don't tingle or shiver, so there's no immediate danger nearby, and far as he can tell he's not wandering into an open trap.

She runs up to him, feet moving remarkably fast for someone wearing five inch heels. Judging by the smart casualness of her attire, pink jumper, cream skirt, nude tights, and the lightness of her makeup, he'd say she's either heading home from work or a night out with friends. He hopes it's the former or else she needs new friends. Villains are running rampant these days.

''You're Hawks, right? I'd recognize those wings anywhere!''

He gives her another flashy grin and extends his arms out slightly, cheeks colouring a fraction at being spotted looking like a drowned rat. ''That's me! How can I help you tonight? You need a ride home? I can't fly right now, but I can walk ya back or call a cab?''

She laughs, high pitched and giddy, and her violet eyes shine with glee. ''Oh, thank you but my boyfriend's meeting me on the next street over. I was just wondering if I could have an autograph, though the offers very kind!''

Ah, just as suspected. Citizens either want help or souvenirs and there's no inbetween. Keeping a smile on his face, he forces his tone to be light and jovial. ''Sure! But I'm afraid I don't have a pen on me, you got one?''

''Oh yes!'' The young woman says enthusiastically, her body almost shaking with excitement. A twinge of guilt stabs at his chest, he can't blame her for taking the perfect opportunity. If he were a regular citizen and Endeavour passed by, he'd do the exact same thing.

''Want me to hold your umbrella?'' He offers, hand already outstretched to take it.

''Yes, thank you!'' The woman passes it to him as she rummages thoroughly yet swiftly through her handbag. He's grateful she's being respectful of his time, either that or she just wants to hurry up out of the rain. Not that he blames her for that either.

He listens to the rain thud against the umbrella as she hunts, watches fat, heavy droplets slide off the fabric and crash to the floor. Keen sight allows him to watch it splash upon the pavement.

''Here we are!'' She declares, sounding relieved. In her right hand she brandashies a pen, in her left a pink spotted notebook. Hawks hands her the umbrella back carefully and takes the items. Flicking the book open to the inside of the front cover, he glances at her before asking who he's addressing it too.

Pointed heels clack against concrete as the young woman practically bounces, spilling out; ''Kimura, Akio!'' In a giggly rush of energy. Her enthusiasm should boost his ego or be endearing, but he's too tired and cold to care much today. The wind is biting through his coat, goosebumps prick along his skin and the water is all but seeping into his bones. It's a wonder he hasn't started shivering yet, he really should hurry home so as not to catch a cold, that's the last thing he needs.

Hawks is grateful he had lessons on penmanship, the better to scribble flawlessly with numb hands. Kimura is graciously covering them both from the onslaught of the dreary weather, though he suspects it may be as much to protect the valuable autograph as to keep them both dry. In quick time, as with everything he does, he's signed it and is passing it back over, wings feeling heavier by the second. Still, much as he likes the idea of running home, he can't let her walk to meet her boyfriend in such dark, miserable conditions. So he offers to walk with her, to which her face lights up as though he's given her a million yen. Okay, he admits it, it's sweet the way his fans look up to him.

As they turn to walk down the opposite side of the street from where he was walking, he offers to hold the waterproof necessity so as to keep them both dry. Once more Kimura agrees, and starts gushing about meeting the number two hero. He tries to give her his full attention, but his mind travels to tomorrow's events, to the meeting with Dabi. The expectation placed on him by the commission to bring back relevant information this time. ''We need the upper hand Hawks,'' she had said. ''By any means necessary.''

Kimura is rambling on about her boyfriend, how he's such a huge fan, and as he absentmindedly listens, Hawks notices a street light flicker on the corner they're fast approaching. His keen gaze scans the surrounding area, there's no one else on this street, as to be expected at such a late hour; it's well past closing time for the shops on this strip.

He lets his senses scour too, but they catch no sign of trouble just like earlier. He's sure paranoia is getting the best of him, but it wouldn't be the first time a villain has feigned fan status or being in trouble to snare an unsuspecting hero into a fatal trap. Aware of a slight lull in the conversation, Hawks takes his chance.

''Where are you two heading out so late? You celebrating something?'' His tone is casual, friendly and light, so as not to raise suspicion. The brunette merely beams at him once more, inclining her head ever so slightly. ''Oh no, he works the night shift and I like seeing him off before he goes since we work at odd hours to one another so often. So, I stayed at work late to finish off some of tomorrow's paperwork. Less work for me, and I get to see him on my way home. He works not far from our house.''

There's a soft lilt to her tone when she speaks of her partner, an almost dreamy quality. Her eyes glisten, as if the mere thought of him is a wish come true. Hawks takes note of her posture, the way her shoulders slouch a fraction, arms loose by her side, there's a calmness to her that stems as much from discussing someone she cares about as it does her being escorted by a hero.

Still, he presses for more. Just in case.

''Why not get a ride?'' He asks as politely as possible.

The corner of her mouth twitches, and an overcast expression briefly crosses her face, like a dark cloud blotting out the sun. ''Money's tight nowadays.'' She says softly, ao soft he barely hears her.

A twinge of guilt blooms in his chest for asking, maybe he should offer her a few yen? But that would be rude even with his stance as a hero.

''You know,'' he keeps his tone light and as respectful as possible as they pass under the flickering streetlight. ''Not to brag or anything but my autographs sell for quite a number online.''

Kimura stops, eyes wide in horror and for a moment he's certain he's offended her. But before he can open his mouth to apologise, she speaks frantically. ''Oh no, we could never do that! You've been so generous to give your time to us and to ensure my safety, we simply couldn't sell it!''

As if on cue Hawks feels his stomach lurch with hunger, the familiarity of poverty gnawing at his insides despite his last meal being merely two hours ago. His earlier grievance at being pestered for an autograph now gives way to full blown guilt, and he stops in his tracks as an idea buzzes in his brain.

''Well in that case…'' He motions for her to take the umbrella from him, lips quirking into a small smile. ''You wouldn't happen to have a spare notebook would ya? That way you could keep one and sell the other for some extra cash.''

Violet eyes widen in disbelief at the offer and the woman's mouth falls open in shock, tears of gratitude forming, threatening to spill. She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out, he puts a hand up in placation, not wanting her to feel obliged to anything.

''Hey it's fine if you don't want to, I-''

Her body lunges forwards and he stills himself to not react as though she's a threat as her arms encircle him, tears falling freely now as she takes great, gulping breaths. Her clothes soak up some of the moisture from his own, but he makes no move to tear her away as she cries out, voice trembling; ''thank you so much!''

He stands awkwardly holding the umbrella with one hand, the other held out at his side so as not to dampen her outfit further, plus it would be incredibly unprofessional to hug her back.

His gaze softens as he looks down at the crying woman before him, a warmth envelopes his chest and he's glad he refused a lift back tonight, grateful for the dreary weather. ''No problem, I'm happy to help.''

''Akio? Honey, what are you-? Is that Hawks?!'' The high, surprised squawk causes the hero to turn to a chubby young man wearing glasses, who halts on the corner they were just about to turn.

His nails curve like bear claws, yet there's no obvious tell of what his quirk might be, just like his partner.

A frantic expression sweeps over the man's face, Watanabe Hiroto she called him, and he quickly casts a fearful gaze over his girlfriend. ''Was there a villain attack?! Are you alright?!''

Hawks swoops in to put the man at ease; ''don't worry, nothing like that went down. I-''

Kimura releases him with an apologetic smile as she once again interrupts. ''Everything's fine honey,'' she declares sweetly, hair still dry from the way Hawks had done his best to shield her with the waterproof gadget.

''Hawks here, was kind enough to walk me to you and even kinder to give such a generous offer as two autographs so we can sell one!''

Watanabe's dark grey brows rise in disbelief, even as a huge grin splits his face in two, eyes beaming. He too is holding an umbrella leaving Hawks as the odd one out. He probably needs to pay more attention to the weather forecast after patrol ends.

To his credit, her boyfriend is far too ecstatic about the situation to care that she's discussed their money troubles with him, for which Hawks is grateful for. Unlike his girlfriend however, he shows huge restraint and takes a different approach by bowing deeply, too quick, losing his grip on the umbrella and allowing the rain to seek its prize of drenching him through. Hawks copies the motion in with fluid grace, keeping his grip steady enough to not get either himself or Kimura any wetter than they already are. His bow lasts a mere few seconds though, and he flashes a quick smile in the man's direction upon realising he hasn't starighted.

''Don't worry about it, it's a hero's job to help after all, right? I'm only doing what any other pro would.''

The man does straighten upon hearing this, his mercury eyes full of tears that flow as freely as the woman still standing in front of Hawks.

''Even so, sir. Thank you. You don't know what this means to us.''

A flash of silver as sunlight reflects off of metal, the large container held firmly in the tallest man's grasp. He unclasps it, and Hawks watches his mother's eyes widen at the sight of the contents within, stacks of yen piled upon one another neatly. The money they need to survive.

He doesn't have a briefcase full of cash on him, but he has a status he has no real need for, so he may as well put it to good use.

For once he doesn't have to fake the sincerity of the grin on his face, it remains there whilst he retakes the pen and writes two more signatures, one on the woman's handbag, which she proceeds to clutch tightly to her chest even with the strap still on her shoulder, and the other on a, fortunately clean, napkin, just as a precaution lest one of them gets damaged.

Satisfied, he gives the pen back to Kimura and both she and her husband bow once more, declaring their humble thanks as they continue to beam at him. Hawks gently declines their assurance of paying him back somehow, insisting its perfectly alright.

''All I want you to do is pass on the favour one day, if you can.'' A world where heroes get more free time is much more likely to become a reality if civilians help each other out too.

''We will!'' The couple promises, then turns to retreat around the corner with a wave. Before even putting her foot down, Kimura stops, a flash of realisation lighting up her features. ''Oh here!'' She carefully gives the signed bag to her husband to hold as she moves hastily back towards Hawks, outstretching the umbrella towards him, letting the rain seep into her clothes and dampen her hair.

''We already have one, we don't need another, please, take it.''

''Well, how can i refuse?'' He says jovially as he retrieves it from her once more, this time permanently. The size isn't enough to cover his wings, even if he were to tuck them in, but it does prevent the water from hitting his body, alongside blocking out a fraction of the cold, and for that he's grateful.

''Have a good night!'' He calls out, remaining still as he watches them wander off, gleeful and giddy at their change of luck. The rain lashes down, wind ruffling his feathers, yet despite the chaotic weather he still needs to walk home in, the knowledge he can give so freely to others puts him in good spirits as he wanders down the street in his former direction.

A content sigh leaves his lips as he finally steps through the doorway, boots trodden with water, coat sapping wet. He's never been so thankful he gets to leave his costume at the hero agency. Carting it back in the now full scale storm would've been a nightmare, if only out of inconvenience.

He removes the heavy, damp clothes that cling to his frozen skin swiftly, a tremor running through his body as it retains some of the icy remnants of the weather. A nice hot shower is the key to unwinding after a long, arduous day. Just because he's fast doesn;t mean he doesn't get worn out by all the chasing around and heavy lifting of villains. His feathers could use a good grooming, along with his formerly orderly, yet somewhat messy, hair which sticks to his forehead. Big, fat droplets drip from the ends to splash against the wooden floorboards. Keen sight allows him to make out each individual drop.

Sore, tired and aching, he takes off his waterproof boots after leaning the newly acquired umbrella to rest by the coat rack. His feet feel substantially warmer just by sliding them into the dry, snug uwabaki, and he makes his way over to the bathroom as fast as possible, desperate for the relaxing touch of gentle hot water and heated steam.

Sure enough the sensation is heaven, and as he tilts his head back, allowing the water to cascade down his wings and over his chest, to reawaken his numb, stiff body, he tries hard to block out the minor and major stresses of the day. The never ceasing expectations of the Commission, the stern looks his superiors had given him, the villain who almost, almost got away. Worst of all was the impending doom in the pit of his stomach regarding his meeting with Dabi tomorrow, he still has no idea how to garner the man's trust and get himself into the league. Great as he is at acting, even he can't seem to convince the Flame Villain that his true intention isn't that of a spy, and that's definitely a problem.

The steam rises, encircling him like the blue flames Dabi used, just in a different fashion. He needs an edge, a way to lull the standoffish, distrustful man into a false sense of belief, but how?

He groans, the sound echoing in the natural acoustics of the room. ''Come on, Hawks, think.'' He mutters, fingers reaching for the soap. As he lathers himself up, his thoughts turn to what kind of actions he could get away with in the name of villainy that won't result in an actual prison charge or somebody's death. Granted, the Commission would cover his ass, but even so, partaking in criminal activity means bringing harm to at least some unsuspecting bystanders, and the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He needs some sort of fluke that allows him to feign injury to others, but when he casts the net for an idea his mind comes up blank. It's almost amusing really, he typically works well under pressure yet he's struggling with this one case. Maybe it hits a little too close to home for his liking, or maybe, he reasons, it's a case of it being tomorrow's problem that he's focusing on today. Either way the feeling of some brilliant plan lingering just out of his reach irks him, and he scowls with yet another sigh, as he turns the shower off, able to fully feel all his limbs again. Much as he likes the feel of warmth spreading through his skin, the thought of a hot drink or a cold beer, ideally both, is enough to entice him out of the bathroom so soon.

He dries himself thoroughly, choosing to place a hoodie over his usual nightwear instead of placing the heater on. The storm still rages outside, rain lashing down even harder than before, wind reminiscent of some howling beast or wailing ghost. It reminds him of how easily bitter chills and summer breezes used to slip through the cracks of the shack, tickling his sensitive feathers enough to elicit a pleasant shudder or else wafting through hard enough to make his teeth chatter as his arms and wings clasped around himself, desperately clinging to any warmth or else trying to create some.

He shakes his hand, not wanting to deal with those memories now. He thought he'd put them to bed years ago, but this case… It eats away at him, resurfacing old wounds that rip apart like flesh caught in between teeth.

The words that were said in those days before his first meeting with Dabi dance around his head on repeat; you're someone who can ignore it.

They really believe him to be the kind of man who can stand by and watch harm be done to innocents without batting an eyelid, and that stings. Cuts deeper than his feather blades can. A heaviness settles over him that has nothing to do with tiredness as he sets about drying his feathers and fetching a cold one from the fridge. He plops down on the sofa, flicks the TV on to drown out the wretched noise of the storm, the gail blowing stronger by the minute, He hopes there's no civilians out tonight but there undoubtedly will be, though anyone with any sense will stay inside dry and warm, and if they can't, well…

The stench of rotting garbage fills his nostrils as his keen eyes shift, nervously chasing the shadows of the alleyway. The plush figure feels surprisingly steady in his trembling grip, a concrete item he can latch on to that won't pull away like his mother's hand. He still can't believe it; Endeavour stopped his dad! Locked him away forever so now he can't be hurt anymore. He really is a hero, the best! One day, Keigo knows he'll be just like him. A shining light stepping in to save the day.

Hawks groans, raising a hand to his head at the dizzying onslaught of troubling thoughts. He truly wants a night off, misses the days where his popularity and rank didn't come with a ton more paperwork and overtime. There's dedication and then there's torture, and the dull, constant ache forming inbetween his eyes tells him his body is beginning to feel the effects of not being able to shut it all off. Deciding a good meal and an old favourite film might help, he once more stands to go to the kitchen, Asahi in hand, it's bubbly fizz grounding as it dissolves on his tongue.

''What to have tonight?'' He asks himself, lacking the energy to cook a full dinner. He knows he shouldn't indulge in yet more food when he's already had three meals and several snacks today, but his high metabolism and busy, demanding schedule burns the fuel up pretty quickly and the urge to feast on whatever is in front of him, should it be his last chance to eat at all, has never quite left him.

Deciding on an assortment of snacks to settle the hunger, Hawks returns to his previous position, remote in hand as he switches on his go-to movie and stuffs his face with mango mochi rice cakes in an effort to switch off his bustling mind.

Tomorrow is a new start to fix a recurring problem and he'll think of something, he always does, he'll brainstorm if he has to, ask around vaguely for snippets of advice if it comes to it, though he's sure it won't. He'll figure it out soon, but not tonight. Tonight he wants to escape, to hide himself in a nest and block out the rest of the world.

After all, sometimes the best solutions present themselves in the most random of moments; if he gets lucky an idea just might hit him like a train, and wouldn't that be nice?