Hawks' license was cool to the touch and heavy for its size. He'd cheerfully handed it over when Rumi asked to see some identification. The word 'HERO' – in the same golden letters from Mrs. Midoriya's license – sparkled in the sun. On the front side was a photo of Hawks with a carefree smile. The text to the side read:

HERO LICENSE

NAME: Keigo Takami

AFFILIATION: Hawks Agency

HERO NAME: HAWKS

She'd read up on how hero licenses were made once; lots of anticounterfeiting measures were built into them, and that fascinated her. A few things jumped out at her as she scrutinized it.

Authentic licenses were printed on thin plastic films that were bonded to etched aluminum blanks. She flicked the corner of the license and it pinged, a good sign. Next, the word HERO was printed with thermal-transfer ribbon, and so the letters should be slightly raised under her fingernails - they were. The ribbon itself was a metallic gold, extremely reflective, with an irregular pattern of triangles on its surface. It glowed warmly.

Rumi wasn't an expert, but if a cashier could suss out a fake ten-thousand yen note by eyeballing it, then she could certainly do the same with Hawks' license. Somewhat satisfied, she handed it back and it disappeared into Hawks' puffy coat. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot for a moment. "Why are you here?" He was a legit hero, so what. That didn't mean he had good intentions.

"Well, like I said, the commission assigned me to your case," Hawks stretched his arms above his head and bit back a yawn, "They want me to report on you every so often. You know, like how you're acting, emotional state, all that good stuff." He scratched idly at the scruff under his chin. "Now that I think about it, they were pretty vague about my duties."

So, the commission wanted updates on what she was doing? It made sense; she was serving a criminal sentence. Her skin itched under the ankle monitor. And what did he mean by "vague"? Shouldn't something like his role in this be well defined? She glanced at the time on her phone. Katsuki likely would be the first one home today, arriving around four in the afternoon.

That was hours away, so she was on her own for now. It was only mildly uncomfortable to think about being alone in her house with a strange man she didn't know, one who could likely wipe the floor with her without a second thought. Go ahead, try something, I'll kick your ass up and down the street. Rumi did her best to snuff that hostility, sighing heavily and stepping aside. "Fine… I guess you can come in."

Hawks flitted about the house, ogling things. He asked seemingly rhetorical questions with what had to be feigned curiosity. He acted fascinated with basic things: like the washing machine in the bathroom, or the game console in the living room. Really, did he think she was stupid? Everyone had a washing machine, and how did you not know the purpose of a game console? She bit her tongue when Hawks asked if they hired their cook locally or from a temp agency. She replied with great care. "Our… cook? I'm not sure I understand, Mr. Hawks." Rumi swore she could see the hamster wheel turning in his head.

Hawks blinked. "Well yeah, I assume your family has a cook since you have a full kitchen. Or… I guess that's a full kitchen for a residence?" He gestured with his wing. "Commercial ones are usually a lot bigger. Oh, and you don't have to call me Mr. Hawks, just Hawks is fine!"

Don't start thumping. Don't do it. Behave, Rumi! "Ah… we cook for ourselves? My dad and brother make dinner most nights."

Hawks' eyes widened, like he hadn't been expecting that answer. "Wait, you all know how to cook? That's so cool!"

Just what in the hell was going on with this guy, was he on drugs?

He cooed, quite like a bird, and hopped from the living room to the kitchen with a gentle flap of his wings. When fully unfurled they were quite impressive.

She'd be a lot more impressed if she didn't have to dive across the room to save a teapot that he'd knocked off the kitchen table.

He was examining a slotted spoon as though it were an alien artifact when she caught up to him.

Rumi snatched it out of his hand and slammed it onto the countertop. She was going to snarl something but stopped herself. Instead, she pinched the bridge of her nose and took the high road. She was at his mercy since he was from the hero commission. And really, why was she so angry?

Hawks cocked his head to the side and gave her a blank look, like he was connecting dots she couldn't see. He stretched his wings; They trembled once fully extended and he shuffled his flight feathers, starting with the tertiaries and moving out to the primaries.

She blinked, and those great wings snapped shut in the brief moment that her eyes were closed. "Look, Hawks, why don't we sit and get this evaluation…. thing, whatever, over with. I'm not really in the mood to socialize, so I would appreciate it if we could hurry up."

"Sure, we can do that! How about we use your room?"

"Ha! No. The kitchen table is- Oi, where are you going? Hawks? Hawks!" he darted off down the hall without another word. She lost sight of The Bastard when he turned the corner: he was fast. Rumi swore and loped after him, thankful that Izuku and Katsuki had helped her clean up a bit last night. It would be so embarrassing if it was still a mess. Her door was ajar when she got to it.

Hawks stood in the middle of the room gawping like a turkey in a thunderstorm. "Woah, your room is pretty cool! I thought mine was exciting, but this just makes it seem boring now. Hey, I don't recognize any of these guys, well, besides Endeavor. And All Might. You into retro heroes or something?" Hawks pointed at the numerous posters on her wall. Most were of heroes – either individuals or teams – though there were some of movies and bands.

She wouldn't admit it, but it was nice that he liked her decorating. For having parents who worked in fashion, they weren't terribly keen on interior design.

"Who's that?" He pointed at one of the larger posters. It was black and white, with an overlaid pattern of grainy horizontal lines, like it was a screen grab from a low-quality CCTV camera. The hero on the poster was rail thin and disheveled, dynamically posed, with a capture weapon stretched from one arm to the edge of the poster. The only color was a splash of yellow around his eyes.

"That's Eraser Head, he's like my favorite hero. And he's not retro, he's active but he's an undergrounder. Hates the spotlight, especially the media."

"Hmm, that makes sense, but why's he your favorite? I'd expect a girl like you to be into Ryukyu, or, like, Uwabami. Er, is that what girls like? I don't really know much about teenagers."

Rumi narrowed her eyes at that. A girl like her, huh? Rude. Rude. She didn't bother with controlling her restless leg this time. She chose to ignore the stupid question in favor of answering the less stupid one.

Thump-thump-thump!

"Eraser's badass. His quirk has something to do with nullifying other quirks, and that's cool, but the leading theory is that's all he can do with it. If he could erase your skill or your muscle, then he wouldn't need to sneak around like a ninja to put you down. Compared to someone like Endeavor, Eraser's practically quirkless, but he kicks ass anyway. He also doesn't give two shits about fame and glory, he's just in it to save people, and I admire that. He's a real hero."

Hawks studied the poster, nodding along as Rumi spoke. He trilled softly. "Huh. That's some impressive analysis. Practically quirkless… you know that kind of makes sense in a weird way. I've never thought about combat potential quite like that before. You're way more into heroes than I thought, most kids are interested in the flash, not the substance."

"Uh, actually… the whole analysis thing is my friend. He's a Giga-nerd. Has a bunch of journals titled 'Hero Analysis for the Future'. The poster is all me though. I… sort of… made it myself. I kinda like designing… stuff." She gestured awkwardly at her room. She'd really tried to make the space her own. There was an accent wall painted with crisp geometric designs in pastel colors. She'd mounted some shelves on the wall to display little sentimental things she'd acquired over the years. In the corner stood a dress form with a half-finished jacket on it. Her sewing machine rested on the floor in its travel case. Rumi bit her tongue. Where was this uncertainty coming from? She was blushing like the nerd himself; this was unacceptable! Hawks getting to her. He acted too innocent, too earnest, and it was too smooth for it to be anything but an act.

"Woah, hey, that's pretty neat! It looks good, I thought you got it at a store or something. And it sounds like you've got some cool friends too, that's great!" Hawks' shot her a glowing smile and a thumbs up.

Yeah sure, because designing stuff is totally as cool as being able to dissect someone's quirk from a handful of videos on the internet. She neither needed nor wanted praise from some random dodo. But… if he were just handing it out like candy, well… she did want to be a hero, and they had to be gracious in the public eye, right? She'd accept the praise as… practice. Just practice.

"Man, having hobbies sounds fun." He plopped down on the edge of her bed, twiddling his thumbs as he rubbernecked at every little thing around him. Maybe he was as curious as he acted. It was so strange, like he'd never been in someone else's house before now, but that made no sense. Did he not have friends? Or a partner?

That hot stab of irritation came back. He really should have asked before sitting on her bed. And before coming in here, this was her room. She ground her teeth and sat, facing him, in her desk chair.

For some reason, Hawks' behavior and his words didn't really click with reality. She squinted at him, sitting so serenely on her bed. Something was up, and she was going to figure it out, one way or another. She turned her head, like she was studying something on the wall, but aimed her ear at Hawks and concentrated. Veins along the backs of her ears bulged and prickled.

Like adjusting the gain on a microphone, Rumi could make her ears more sensitive to minute sounds. Doing so required intense concentration. When dialed in, a sufficiently loud noise could seriously mess with her equilibrium. If she were dialed in too far it was devastating. The year that Katsuki realized he could modulate the brightness, loudness, and force of his explosions had been a trying time for Rumi. As had the year he got his drum set. Honestly, she loved him to death, but living with Katsuki was always a trying time.

Eavesdropping on someone's body sometimes gave insight to their mood or honesty. It wasn't like mind reading, but the human body offered some powerful context clues if you knew what to listen to. It was a handy skill to have. Unfortunately, Hawks' organs were just as confusing as Hawks himself. His heart was a runaway snare drum in his chest. Similarly, his lungs worked overtime, constantly pumping rapid, shallow breaths. Concentrated as she was, she closed her eyes and frowned, forgetting that Hawks was looking right at her. This made no sense, with a respiratory rate so high he should look ready to drop dead, not like he'd just rolled out of bed. In his throat, around where she would expect his larynx to be, she heard vaguely bird-like noises.

chk-chk-chk... prrek?

Okay, all this nonsense had to be related to his quirk. So much for fact checking him if she thought he was being dishonest. With a resting heart rate that high there was no way she'd be able to notice if it fluctuated. Heteromorphic quirks were such a pain to deal with sometimes.

"Hear anything interesting?" Her eyes snapped open and she lurched in her chair.

Hawks was leaning forward, resting his chin in his hands.

Rumi flushed and muttered something non-committal.

He laughed.

"I don't blame you for being curious, no hard feelings! You were trying to listen to my heartbeat, right? Trying to see if I was lying? Smart. I can do something similar with my feathers." He spread his massive wings; their tips brushed against either wall. Some of his feathers shivered.

She caught a faint hum, just at the threshold of her hearing. It made her teeth itch.

"Keep it to yourself though, yeah? It's not something I like to advertise."

Rumi rolled her eyes and grunted something that sounded agreeable. They watched each other silently for a time.

Hawks looked perfectly relaxed.

Rumi was starting to squirm. She'd be happy if he wanted to flex his staring contest skill with literally anyone but her.

"Say, Usagiyama… have you had any unusual feelings of anxiety or aggression recently? Or competitiveness? Territorial urges? Violent thoughts? Sexual frustration?" He chirped merrily, as though he were shooting the breeze with an old friend.

Rumi choked on her spit. By the glow of her cheeks she could have melted tungsten with them.

Hawks only grinned; eyes closed and eternally unruffled.

"W-where the hell did that come from? None of your goddamn business!"

Hawks only hummed and tilted his head to the side, serene as ever. "Well it actually is my business in a way. Caseworker, remember? I know we just met, but you seem to be all over the place, and I can't really figure it out. I had you pegged as a bored teenager at first, and maybe a bit of an adrenaline junky, but that's not right. You're a bit too… mercurial for that." Hawks wiggled his eyebrows, like he was letting her in on some big secret.

The nerve of this guy. Rumi would crack a molar if she ground her teeth any harder. "Mer- mercurial? I'm not mercurial! What do you want me to say, that I'm not okay? Because that's bullshit, I'm fine. Move. The fuck. On." She leaned back and crossed her legs. Her right foot bounced in the air.

Hawks flopped back on her bed; his limbs spread in complete disorder. "Hey, comfy bed, where did you get it? The beds at home are super hard." He wriggled around on his back, glanced at her, and chuckled. Though it sounded more like a goose trying to honk with a miserably sore throat.

She officially hated his stupid face.

A feather zipped across the room, delivering a hand mirror from Rumi's desk to Hawks' hand. Preening, he spared her another idle glance. "Man, you look like you really want to kick me." He flashed his teeth and went back to the mirror.

"I'm not going to kick you." She huffed. It was clear he was goading her. She wasn't going to let him win though. She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, lacing her fingers together. It didn't matter, soon he'd be out of her hair and she could move on with literally anything not related to Hawks. She was feeling a bit peckish, maybe she'd have lunch. Calm, Rumi. Calm.

"Oh, I didn't say you could, just that you wanted to. That's okay though, I'm told that frustration is a healthy emotion – in moderation."

"What the hell do you mean 'could', if I'm going to kick you, then I will kick you, bird brain. There is no 'could'." Her right leg was bouncing, drumming a beat on the hardwood. Her knuckles went white. Be. Calm.

"Hmm, but didn't you miss earlier? At the front door, remember? Though I'm not one-hundred percent sure. My eyes were closed at the time."

Rumi wasn't sure she heard him correctly: did he just say he dodged her kick with his eyes closed? The audacity of this bitch. She sneered at him, but he was in his own little world, picking at his teeth with the quill of a slender feather. That was it, she was officially done. She hopped to her feet and pointed at the door. "Alright, I think that's enough for today, there's the door." Oh, so Hawks deigned to look at her now? She felt so honored.

"Nah, we still have some stuff to work through. Also, I just got comfy. Seriously though, where'd you get this bed? It feels great on my back."

"I. Said. Leave. Get out. You aren't welcome here." Mirko stirred in Rumi's chest, roaring for a fight, for Hawks' blood. She wanted to reach out and snap his scruffy neck. It would be so easy; he was a reedy one.

Hawks, unconcerned, dismissed her with a glance. He looked like he was about to fall asleep.

"…"

He yawned. "Why?" He asked so innocently, with his head tilted to the side like he truly didn't understand.

Mirko saw red. She was on Hawks in an instant. She straddled him, trying to cave in his chest between her thighs. Her slender fingers curled around his neck and she throttled him. "Because you came into my house, into my room, got in my bed, fucked with my things, and asked stupid fucking questions about me that you had no business asking!" She shook him violently, smashing his head into the mattress as she screamed.

A savage part of her was thrilled when his goggles flew off his face. He was a pro hero; he wouldn't allow this to go on. He was going to throw her off. They were going to fight. It was going to be bloody and it was going to exactly what she wanted. She saw his wings twitch and she hauled back a fist, ready to ruin his face, when she saw her own.

Hawks had turned the mirror he held around on her.

Her face was purplish. Her hair was a mess. A vein bulged at her temple. Her mouth pulled into a vicious snarl, bearing sharp teeth. There was nothing but hate in her eyes. It was monstrous. Hawks' neck burned white hot in her hands. She released him with a gasp, and flung herself across the room, back to the wall.

Hawks sat up gingerly and fished his goggles out of the blankets. He replaced them over his eyes and beamed at Rumi, like she hadn't just tried to murder him in her bed.

Her fingers went numb, the tingling sensation spread to her palms and up through her forearms. Saliva pooled in her mouth.

"So… you remember those, ah, violent and territorial urges I mentioned? Anything you wanna tell me?"

Rumi lunged for the waste basket and vomited.

"So… this happen often?" They sat on a park bench. After Rumi calmed down, Hawks had suggested lunch and some fresh air. He'd even disabled her ankle monitor so they could come here. When he shut the blasted thing off it sprung open and fell from her ankle like a cartoonish parasite.

It sat in the pocket of the hoodie she liberated from Katsuki's room. The smell of burnt sugar soothed her raw nerves.

She shook her head and picked at her takoyaki. Her ears laid against her shoulders, limp. She sat pressed against the end of the bench, as far away from Hawks as possible.

He seemed happy as could be, wolfing down his lunch like he was starved. One of his feathers zipped across the park and caught an elderly man who tripped on the sidewalk. Hawks waved cheerfully. Another feather gently nudged a toddler away from the edge of the park fountain. The child's mother thanked him profusely. He only said it was the right thing to do, as it was far too chilly for anyone to be walking around in soaked clothing.

Wing Hero: Hawks: At your service!

"But you've been feeling these things for a while I'd imagine. You want to prove that you're strong, that you can win. And you want to be left alone while you do it. If I were to guess, I'd say you were feeling something similar when you decided to fight in that cage match. Am I close?"

He was. Rumi had a dozen things she wanted to say in response, but nothing sounded right in her head, so she only nodded. She tried awfully hard to not look at Hawks during their one-sided conversation. The same feeling of guilt and regret from her argument with her mother had returned. Only this time she'd tried to kill someone. It was a miracle that Hawks hadn't immediately handed her over to the police. He certainly should have; he would have been in the right to do so. The fact that Hawks was essentially covering for her loss of control made her feel even worse.

"I'm sorry…" It was the first thing she'd said to him since they left her house. She let out a startled noise when he scooped her up with one giant wing.

He slid Rumi closer to him, not uncomfortably so, and gently rubbed her back.

She tensed, ready to leap off the bench.

"I forgive you." Was all he said. They sat in silence until her takoyaki went cold. He kept rubbing her back but devoted his attention to people watching. Tension in her shoulders, which she hadn't realized she was carrying, started to bleed away. With that relaxation came tightness in her throat and a tremor in her lower lip.

"I… think I'm going to cry again." She hiccoughed.

A feather with several napkins speared on its quill floated in front of her face. "That's okay. Sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself is cry."

Just before three in the afternoon they stood at the threshold of the Bakugo house. The ankle monitor sat firmly on her leg once more. The little LED on it blinked green every so often.

"Again, I'm really sorry about pushing your buttons so much earlier. I hope we can work together in the future. No hard feelings?" Hawks rubbed the back of his neck. Rumi shivered and hugged herself; She should have put on more than just a hoodie earlier.

"You don't have to apologize… but how did you play me so easily? You don't even really know me."

Hawks hummed. "Well, how about this: I'll tell you more if you choose to do your community service with me. It's up to you."

"Wait, what? I get a choice?" That was unexpected, and a little strange. Community service, in addition to house arrest, had been mandated for her in lieu of incarceration at a juvenile detention center. Why would the commission let her have any say in how she served her time?

"Yup! Here, my number," he offered a plain white business card with HAWKS on one side and his phone number on the other, "When you decide, call me, shoot me a text, whatever you like, just make sure you choose before the end of the day on Friday. I'm pretty sure they'll move forward with the usual assignment if you miss the deadline."

"Oh." She said lamely, tracing the edges of his card with her thumb.

He popped into the air with a gentle flick of his wings. "And seriously, don't beat yourself up about today Usagiyama. Sometimes dumb things happen, the important part is what you do afterwards." Hawks left at that, shooting into the sky at an absurd speed.

Hawks dangled, catlike, from a rafter in the warehouse he'd rented in Musutafu, watching Usagiyama with a bird's eye view. He'd had the commission set it up so half the square footage was a large multi-story obstacle course, and the other half was completely bare.

Usagiyama had texted him about an hour after he'd left her on Monday afternoon. He wasn't surprised that she decided so quickly, he'd planned for it in fact. He'd offered a sympathetic ear, taken her off her leash, and let her get some fresh air. He openly forgave her, without judgement, and dangled a baited hook in front of her nose, one that claimed he knew her better than she knew herself after just twenty minutes of interaction. She ate it up. How could she not, when Hawks excelled at playing the confidant.

So now, she was working herself to exhaustion under his watchful eyes, burning through her frustrations by beating the tar out of a training dummy. Yesterday Hawks directed her to careen through the obstacle course until she couldn't go on. She balanced on steel cables, bounced off the walls, swung from the rafters, and darted over catwalks with the grace and poise of an Olympic gymnast. Tomorrow he might see how many kilometers she could sprint before collapsing. It was astounding, the power, the raw speed, the control that she had, all at such an early age. Usagiyama was a real diamond in the rough.

The general routine: Hawks met Usagiyama here around dawn, she would burn off her excess energy, they'd get lunch, and then they'd talk. Sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours. She had been skittish in the beginning, closed off, but by the end of their second week together she had turned into a chatterbox. It started out lighthearted. She stuck to non-committal things, like movies or books she was interested in or foods she liked. Hawks worried that he wasn't making any progress with the girl. Until one day Usagiyama had gone on a tirade when he asked if she liked shopping.

It seemed like a safe question to ask a teenage girl but apparently, he had stepped on a landmine. According to her it was nearly impossible to find pants – that were neither leggings nor sweats – which fit both her hips and her waist, without looking stupid. The only reason she'd gotten into design in the first place was because without making alterations she had to wear her pants scandalously low around her hips or stuff her tail into them, which sucked. Then she ranted about a myriad of things related to the fashion industry for a solid ten minutes. Hawks, bemused, had no idea what he was going to do with this information, but noted that fashion was a hot button topic with Usagiyama.

After that, she got more comfortable, and their conversations tended towards more meaningful and progressively heavier subjects. She missed jogging with her brother in the early mornings, where she would vent whatever was eating at her. Her brother – Katsuki – played a similar role to the one Hawks played now. Her school removed her from the volleyball team because of her 'criminal activities'. She played it off to her family but cried for hours in her room.

She worried that she might not be able to get into UA High School, or become a hero at all, because she'd been arrested for quirk misuse. There had been a nasty argument between her and her mother, while Usagiyama was hospitalized, and their relationship didn't seem to be healing. She didn't understand why she had such violent mood swings and was terrified that she would hurt someone.

The last one was something that Hawks had firsthand experience with. There was nothing wrong with Usagiyama. So, he told her as much. The physical changes made by heteromorphic quirks come with mental and emotional ones that people often overlooked. She just needed a constructive outlet for her emotional and physical needs. Since she hadn't been getting that at school or at home, her emotions had run rampant. He'd gone through the same thing when he was her age.

The last part was a lie: The commission had constantly kept him busy throughout his childhood to prevent such problems.

He doubted he could get rid of her at this point, even if he tried. She was so eager to please after learning that she wasn't some caricature of a villain's origin story. He really didn't want to get rid of her either. He was having more fun with this kid than he'd had in his whole life. The commission president had explicitly told him that he wasn't doing this for fun, and so this was turning into his own little rebellion.

Hawks plopped down on the stool next to Usagiyama at a ramen stand. They walked over after she'd finished brutalizing the training dummy. Her skin was shiny with sweat which, strangely enough, smelled strongly of cut grass. He knew she didn't wear perfume or use scented products – they irritated her skin – so maybe that was another aspect of her quirk. His keen eyes picked up the rapid-fire twitching of her quads under her leggings. She had worked hard today.

Her phone pinged in her lap. She swiped the message open and smiled prettily.

Hawks cooed, that was a smile worth protecting. Adorable.

"Who are you texting? Is it The Boy? Ooh, are you making progress?"

She tried to slug him in the shoulder.

Hawks turned just enough that she only clipped him. He laughed.

She glowered. "Don't say stupid shit like that." The menu seemed to captivate her, up until her phone pinged again. She hastily silenced it, but the way her cheeks warmed when she read the next message was telling.

"I'm just saying, most people don't blush when texting their parents or their friends. So, have you told him you like him yet? Oh hey, excuse me!" Hawks flailed his arm in the air, "Yeah, can I get a regular shio ramen with chicken? And, uh- what do you want?"

"I'll have a large udon, chewy noodles, extra green onion, please." She smiled politely, but he knew she was just waiting for the cook to turn away.

He leaned back, letting her punch whiff past his chest.

"One of these days I'm going to use you as a training dummy, idiot."

"So, you haven't told him. Why not? You aren't getting any younger."

She'd mentioned The Boy a few times, never by name, but Hawks was confident he knew their identity. He'd implied he knew who it was once and Usagiyama made it clear she would die before confirming or denying anything. He thought that reaction was strange. Was denying your attraction to someone a relationship thing, a teenage thing, or an Usagiyama thing? He honestly didn't know. So, he did what he usually did, and made a game of teasing the information out of her. If part of that game was pretending that he never saw 'Nerd' at the top of her phone screen, so be it.

Usagiyama only grumbled something that would be inaudible to most. He heard it clearly of course. This was fun. It was like information gathering for work but without the high stakes and life or death consequences. "Hmm, what was that?" Hawks beamed in a way that he knew riled Usagiyama.

"I just… I don't know. I don't want things to be weird… and I'm worried I'd hurt him."

"What, you mean like… Mirko-rage-monster hurt him?" He asked around a mouthful of noodles. This little no-name ramen stand was one of his favorite lunch spots in Shizuoka, they always got the broth exactly right. Not too salty, not too bland, perfect.

She laughed at that, short and sharp. "He… knows. About that. The mood swings, I mean. He doesn't have a problem with it, but I do." As she talked, Hawks inched towards her bowl with his chopsticks.

She caught them with her own pair. Her glare promised death.

Was it really his fault that her noodles looked so tasty? He held up a peace sign.

She rolled her eyes and snagged a piece of chicken from his own bowl. He slurped up a fat noodle and chewed happily.

"Well he must like you a lot if that didn't scare him off."

The fur at the base of her ears fluffed up, and the ears themselves flushed bright red. She fidgeted in her seat. "S-shut up."

Oh my god, so cute. "Hmm… you're dumb."

Her eyelid twitched, and her incredibly long lashes waggled. Why on earth were they so long anyway? He didn't think that was a rabbit trait. He knew Uwabami had fake eyelashes, were Usagiyama's fake too?

"Come again, bird-brain?"

"Sounds like you're hesitating over what-ifs and maybes. That's dumb. You're dumb. Terrible habit for hero work." He understood the fear of something not working out though. Or he thought he did. The most intimate relationships he'd ever had were workplace acquaintanceships with a handful of people that worked at the commission. All were kept at arm's length. Come to think of it, Hawks didn't really have friends either. Well, maybe he didn't understand anything about it, but he was fairly sure he knew the ins and outs of a basic romantic relationship. During training, it had always been maintained that exploiting romantic attachment was a viable strategy for infiltration or interrogation.

"I'm not hesitating. I just don't want to regret ruining something that's already good. I shouldn't be greedy. Besides, I'm going to UA and I doubt I'd have any free time and I just, I don't know, okay?"

Hawks blinked. It sounded like she'd already written off the possibilities here. That was especially dumb. Rule 14: Never disregard a plan based on assumptions alone. He rummaged in his wallet, paid, and shooed Usagiyama out of the stall. "You know, there's always a chance that I'll miss the opportunity to save someone. I might be too slow, or maybe not strong enough. If I let that fear stop me from doing my job, then I really will miss those opportunities, and people will get hurt. Live for today, Rumi, you might not have a tomorrow."

He shed about a third of his secondary feathers as they walked. They darted around, surveilling the area. He didn't miss how Usagiyama watched his feathers enviously. He was rather fond of his quirk, so he took her not-so-secret glances as a compliment. They made it to Usagiyama's house without incident. There wasn't much hero-ing to be done beyond helping old ladies cross the street, and for that Hawks was grateful. So many heroes took quiet days for granted.

He waved goodbye and took off. The hollow feeling in his gut was back, the same feeling he had every time he parted ways with her. He popped a piece of candied ginger in his mouth and chewed slowly. He wasn't the biggest fan of the taste but flying on an upset stomach sucked.

Usagiyama was a pretty cool kid. One with raging hormones, and all the bottled-up frustration, angst, and horniness that came with her age. She had hopes and dreams, plans, hobbies, friends. People that loved her. People that she loved. She was nothing like him. He wished that weren't the case. He wished with every feather that she was less like herself. That would make things easier.

It would make things easier if he hadn't allowed himself to get attached. He'd read once that naming a livestock animal almost guaranteed that animal would be spared the butchers' knife. People seemed to like the sentiment, because they ascribed their own emotions and experiences to the animal. Unfortunately for the animal, sentiment would only last until the people began to starve. Now Keigo was the reluctant butcher, sharpening his knife while Usagiyama rested at his feet, comfortable and trusting.

She was going to lose everything that made her unique. All those dreams, all those feelings, and relationships. Her soul. They were going to be excised, one at a time, until she was a perfect hero. Someone who would happily die in the dark, someone the people desperately needed. He would be responsible for it but, in the end, hers was the hand which would hold the knife.