Rumi limped to her gym bag, where she drained her water bottle, before flopping on the warehouse floor. She had just been put through the wringer and every muscle burned. She felt good. Hawks had changed up their routine about a week ago, throwing sparring into the mix on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. As things turned out, she was a trash fighter. She had the raw strength and the reflexes – that was never in question – but she was sorely lacking when it came to execution. She easily lost herself to the flow of adrenaline, to the thrill of the fight. That tunnel vision kept her from acting decisively, turning every fight into an endurance burning slugfest. She had gotten sostupidly lucky in her match with Rappa, and Hawks was delighted to drill that fact into her skull.

"Does the name Kurogiri mean anything to you?" The question came right out of left field.

Hawks asked so casually that it took Rumi a moment to register what he said. Once she did, gooseflesh swept across her entire body. How the hell did Hawks know that name, and why did he think she had any connection to it? She forced herself to breathe slowly and think with her brain instead of her adrenal glands. Hawks was a pro hero. There were any number of explanations for why he might have come across the name Kurogiri. He probably had access to all the files that were generated when she had been sent to the Red Cross so many years ago, which meant that he probably came across Giran's name, and Giran was connected to Kurogiri in all kinds of shady ways. Rumi made a show of getting her phone out and pausing her music as she deliberated. The thumping bass from Hawks' Bluetooth speaker went silent.

Hawks was a friend, and he was probably asking for a good reason. She could trust that he wouldn't judge her for something she had no control over, right? She had been so young at the time…

"It… doesn't mean anything good. Haven't heard it in years," She glanced at him, he appeared to be focusing on his cooldown, "Do I want to know why you're asking?"

"Ah, I was just looking through your records and came across it." She watched him spread his wings, flexing each feather as he stretched. It must have taken a long time to develop such fine control over a hundred or so extra limbs.

She sighed. "What do you want me to say?" Might as well get right to it. She didn't want to linger, Kurogiri was… unpleasant to remember. Not that he had in any way traumatized her, it was just that the circumstances around her association with the man were… troubling.

Hawks laughed. "Oh! You wound me, I just want to unlock my young ward's tragic backstory, do I have to want anything more?"

The more time she spent around Hawks, the easier it was for her to peel back the layers of insincere emotion and airheaded Zen. It was all an act. Hawks was always after something, and if his lips were moving, he was lying. That was her assumption at least, since she never could hear any variation in his heartbeat. Regardless, she didn't buy his story and told him as much.

"Fine, fine, you win. The commission asked me to put some feelers out, investigate him. They think he's connected to a string of disappearances around Yokohama. I thought you might be able to give some insight."

"How detailed are those records anyway?" She stared up at the roof trusses, tracing the zig-zagging steel webs with her eyes. The paint on them was shiny and new, much like everything else in the building.

"Detailed enough I suppose, though I'm not sure how dependable they are. In general, commission agencies and police precincts follow different guidelines for incident reporting. Really though, I'm more interested in your take on things. How you feel looking back from today."

"Dude, I was like, five or six at the time, I hardly remember much. You realize you aren't likely to get anything useful, right?" She ran her hands over her face. Hawks sat against the wall beside her.

Eventually, Rumi sat up with a groan – her legs and abs protested at the motion – and scooted back until she could lay her head and shoulders against the cool concrete. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Hmm, wherever you're comfortable, I guess. This isn't an interrogation Rumi; you don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

She twiddled her thumbs and let her eyes wander around the warehouse. She had begun calling it The Roost immediately after Hawks jokingly called it The Warren since she spent so much time here. Hawks waited patiently, with closed eyes. Rumi laid her head on his shoulder and spoke softly.

"When I was young, I lived in a… brothel, in Kamino Ward. It was called the Golden Cat. You saw about Giran in the police report, yeah?"

"Yeah, information broker, slippery dude. He was the one that took you in, right?"

Rumi didn't know if she would agree that Giran "took her in". He found a place for her to sleep and eat, true, but he certainly hadn't done so out of the goodness of his heart. Besides, he'd washed his hands of her when he'd handed responsibility for her care off to a prostitute. Charity work just wasn't in Giran's character.

"Not exactly. He found me and set me up at the Cat, but he didn't really take care of me. Sally did. I had my own room on the third floor. I didn't work there though. I mean, like, work work." The words came out in a rush as she bounced erratically from subject to subject. Rumi had nothing against sex workers, she really didn't, but the thought of Hawks pitying her over an assumption of abuse left a sour taste in her mouth. Her need to clarify her old living situation was hampered by her nervousness.

"You mean you weren't a prostitute."

" No , I wasn't a prostitute. I was six. Don't get me wrong, the whole situation was fucked, but it wasn't like that. I earned my keep by cleaning mostly. Sometimes I helped in the kitchen."

Seven Years Ago

The kitchen was Rumi's favorite place to be in the Golden Cat. It was a calm space, devoid of loud, drunk, and rowdy people. She could still hear all the tawdry goings-on in the building from the kitchen, but she found herself better able to tune them out in here. Aside from the relative peace, there were lots of good smells, and Marguerite kept the pantry reasonably well stocked, which meant lots of local veggies. Currently, she was helping a nice lady named Makoto prepare dinner for the working girls of the Cat. Rumi stood on an old milk crate, with a dish towel tied around her like a little apron, and under Makoto's watchful gaze she thinly sliced a daikon radish.

Rumi froze mid-slice. Her pupils shrunk to pinpricks, the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and the base of her ears throbbed. Second floor, Room 2 - Miss Sally was screaming. Rumi's legs started moving before she knew what she was doing.

"Hey, are you okay- wait, hey! Where are you going? Rumi!"

She flew down the hall, ducked around Marguerite, and barreled up the stairs. The screams were interrupted by a sharp smack – someone got hit, hard. People were gathering in the hallway. Sally's door was open. There was lots of shouting, but Rumi didn't hear a word of it. There was Sally. On her knees. Nose crooked and bloody. A tall man, shirtless and incensed, held her by the hair. His arm was raised to hit her.

"Sally!" Rumi leapt high and crashed into the man's back. She didn't have a plan beyond 'save Miss Sally', so she bit down on his bare shoulder. Her teeth, small and sharp, easily broke skin.

The man roared and thrashed, trying to reach her with his big hands. He caught her by the ear and flung her against the wall.

Stars exploded across her vision and Rumi, winded, flopped helplessly against the baseboards. The room spun. Through the vertigo, Rumi saw the man – the one who had been hurting Miss Sally – looming over her. Everyone was yelling.

He lashed out with a vicious kick.

Miss Sally screamed, begging him to stop.

He didn't, not until Marguerite blew his head off with a twelve-gauge pump. She put two more shells in his back after he hit the ground. The shotguns report was tremendously loud. Rumi didn't hear much more than a high-pitched whine after the third shot.

Rumi woke to the click of a light switch and fluorescent humming. She was in an unfamiliar place. Her room in the Cat was old and worn. It smelled dusty and sounded creaky. This room felt newer. Clean, but not shiny. Quiet, but not silent. The walls were bare concrete. The floor was tiled with green and white linoleum, like a hospital. Her blanket was scratchy and smelled strongly of disinfectant. She rubbed at her eyes and squeaked out a yawn.

"Good evening, Miss Usagiyama. How are you feeling?" He was tall, slim, and weird. He was dressed well, in a shirt and tie, slacks, and a tweed waistcoat. There was a swirling nebula of dark violet mist where his head should be. It obscured his features, save for two acid yellow slashes shaped vaguely like eyes. He stood in the open doorway, making no move to enter further. "Can you hear me, Miss Usagiyama? Your ear drums were perforated when you were brought to me."

She nodded shyly.

"That is good. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kurogiri. We are in the basement of my establishment, in Kamino Ward. I treated your injuries; you should be in perfect health."

Rumi's body froze solid. Kurogiri? The Kurogiri? The one who the girls at the Cat whispered about, as though he could reach out of the darkness and steal them away? She trembled where she sat. She'd never heard anyone describe him, or even what he did, other than the faintest rumors that he was responsible in some way for a rash of disappearances all across town. But maybe the Kurogiri who disappeared people from the streets was different from this Kurogiri. A person-stealing monster wouldn't be so polite. They couldn't be, not if they hurt people. Right? She hoped this Kurogiri wouldn't hurt her. He did say he healed her, so it wouldn't make sense for him to hurt her after all that work… right?

Rumi's stomach decided this was the ideal time to demand the attention of the room. She blushed and looked away, fidgeting with her shirt.

"Ah, I see. May I offer you some refreshments, Miss Usagiyama? Perhaps something to eat?" He spoke stiffly and slowly, annunciating every syllable with rigid formality.

Rumi nodded jerkily. She was starving. In her mind, Kurogiri felt much safer for having offered food. Why take care of someone and feed them if you wanted to hurt them?

"Come along, little one." Kurogiri held out a misty hand and, curiously, did nothing more. She sat and watched while he stood there, still as a statute. Like a robot waiting for a command, he didn't even blink. The hunger got the best of her and she slid awkwardly out of the bed. It was far too tall for her.

She tottered over haltingly, until she was just at arm's reach. Kurogiri carefully took her hand and led her out of the room. Not two steps from the door, a roiling black tear – with violet edges the same shade as Kurogiri's body – split the air. Rumi cowered behind his legs as it grew outward. The edges of the void stilled, and the center dilated to reveal… a different room? No, a bar, judging by the booths and all the bottles on the wall. Taken by curiosity, Rumi peeked around the edge of the portal. Behind it was more of the hallway. Looking from the side, the portal looked to be thin as a hair. Kurogiri looked down at her.

"Come, little one, and tell me: Do you have any dietary preferences or food allergies? You will find I can accommodate most needs."

He took her hand again, and together they stepped through the portal.

"That's pretty much it. He fed me, called Giran, and sent me on my way. Come on, my ass is falling asleep." Rumi stood and stretched, contorting her body like a pretzel and groaning like a zombie. " Jeez ," she rolled her shoulders, "Stiff. I need to stretch more after kicking your ass."

Hawks was already on his feet. "Oh, I hadn't realized my ass was the one getting kicked. So, I take it you two didn't talk much?"

"Nah, not really. At least, not outside of like, general pleasantries. I was a nugget of a child, remember? He would've had more important things to bother with." That much was true at least. Sure, she'd seen Kurogiri a few times, always standing behind his bar, but she'd only ever interacted with the man once.

She chewed her lip absently as she dredged up the memories, looking for anything that stood out. "You know, there was something… odd." Though, she doubted that this was the specific kind of weird that Hawks was after.

"Oh yeah? What's up?" Hawks' head swiveled about on his neck so he could look at her. Without blinking.

Bird brained weirdo. "He- Kurogiri- handed me over to Giran, who took me back to the Cat, but before he did, he gave me homework."

Hawks opened his mouth, blinked, and shut it again. "I… wait, what? We're talking something criminal, right? Or…" he flapped his hand around as he thought, "I don't know."

"No, like, school stuff. Japanese, English, Math. He gave me a laptop and a three-ring binder full of these booklets on different subjects. Said 'education is of the utmost importance' or something like that… dude talked like he had a major stick up his ass."

"Hmm… how comprehensive was the set?"

Rumi scrunched up her nose, trying to recall the contents of that big blue binder. "Uhh… like, kindergarten to at least middle school. Maybe further? I don't really remember."

"Covers have a yellow banner across the top? With the title printed in big black letters?"

"Er, yeah, how did you know?" Sometimes, Hawks would offer up information that was eerily close to what was bouncing around in her head. It made her wonder if he had a mind reading aspect to his quirk that he had yet to show. Or maybe he was just really, really smart. He was fiddling with his coat now. It was a custom piece with two slits in the back for his wings to stick through.

"Graham – Fujikaze Standardized K12 Curriculum, I'm familiar. That series is basically the go-to for homeschooling. What about the laptop? You don't still have it, do you?" Hawks extended his wings slightly, threw on the coat, and reached behind himself to fasten the snaps at the bottom of each slit.

"It was so I could submit the assignments from the workbook. Kurogiri graded them, I guess. And when I… left Kamino, it was in my room at the Cat, so it's probably long gone by now."

"Shame about that, we might have gotten some good intel from it. Okay, okay. So, what have we learned?", Hawks clapped his hands together, "Kurogiri, our suspected villain and known criminal is a doctor on the side and… a part time teacher? I just feel like I have more questions now." Hawks scratched at his chin.

"I told you it was weird. Oh, and I'm not really sure if Kurogiri is the one that patched me up. I was kind of out for the whole thing, if the violent beating hadn't clued you in."

It was bright, crisp, and clear outside. A brisk wind swirled around them, chilling her ears. They were practically radiators. It was great in summer, since she rarely overheated, but it sucked in colder weather. She relaxed her ears, laying them down and tugging on a grey knit beanie as she waited for Hawks to finish locking up the building.

"Welp… this was, surprisingly, not useful in the slightest." Rumi could only shrug at that. Were she a pettier individual, she might take this opportunity to say 'I told you so'. "You asked. Not my problem if the answer isn't what you were looking for."

They meandered toward a lunch spot. This time it was a street cart offering fried fish on skewers.

"How would you feel about helping me investigate Kurogiri?"

"Oh, ow, fuck!" She hissed into her palm, exhaling around a big bite of fish that was far too hot for human consumption.

"You know, you could have spit that out, right?" Hawks cocked an eyebrow.

"Never! You don't waste free food," She tenderly poked at the top of her tongue while she glared at the paper boat of fish in her other hand, "and what do you mean 'investigate'? Like, go over records or something? Because I'm not exactly a licensed pro, so I doubt there's much I could do."

Hawks hemmed and hawed over his response and she squinted at him.

"Spit it out Tweety, I know you already planned what you're going to say." Hawks pouted at her, but she wasn't having it.

"You're no fun, Usagiyama." Hawks wanted something specific from her, there was no doubt in her mind. He wouldn't be so talkative otherwise. They chatted about inconsequential things all the time, but rarely did they talk at length about more sensitive topics.

"Someone has to be the adult in this relationship," She jabbed at his belly with an empty skewer, "Now spill."

Hawks smacked the skewer away. He took a moment before he spoke. "I want to officially recruit you as a pro hero to help me infiltrate Kurogiri's operation, gather evidence, and bring him to justice if need be."

Hawks wanted to do what?! She choked on her next bite of fish.

He reached over and smacked her on the back until she hacked it up.

"You- ugh- god. You really don't want me to enjoy lunch today," Rumi wheezed and pounded her fist on her sternum, "Just came right out with it, no windup or anything, huh? That's unlike you."

Hawks smiled, somewhat sheepish, and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well… I did have a whole sales pitch lined up, but I feel like you'd just be pissed off by the end of it." He laughed.

Rumi ever so carefully took another bite. She really didn't feel like going three for three, even though she hadn't paid for lunch herself. She chewed thoroughly, waiting forsomething to go wrong this time, but it never came. "That's… that's one hell of an ask, my dude."

Mid-July found Hawks standing once more at the front door to the Bakugo household. He had a surprise for Usagiyama, and boy was he excited. He rang the bell – once, and only once – and bounced happily on the balls of his feet.

Before long Mr. Bakugo answered the door. "Oh, good evening Mr. Hawks! Come in, come in." He wore an apron, lightly streaked with brows, tans, and reds.

Hawks' nose twitched. Curry?

Masaru stepped aside and let Hawks enter without a second thought. "You have perfect timing by the way; dinner's just about done. May I take your coat? Bit hot out for something so heavy, isn't it?" Masaru was friendly as ever.

Hawks rather liked the man, he was calm, and pleasant to talk to. Had the mans placid nature been what initially attracted Mitsuki? Their tempers were opposite, and Hawks had read somewhere that 'opposites attract'. He really should find a night class about relationships or something. Heathy relationships, that is.

The commission had ensured that Hawks could identify and exploit various interpersonal relationships, yet why people did what they did wasn't very high on The List of Important Things to Teach Hawks. He requested further enrichment on the subject, but his handlers only dismissed it as a waste of resources for a field agent. Results were far more important.

"Oh, no, it gets pretty chilly up in the air. Besides, I get cold easy in general. It's a bird thing. And you don't have to call me Mr. Hawks, just Hawks is fine."

"Whatever you say, Just Hawks." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled behind thick rimmed glasses.

"Eh?"

"Ah, don't think too much about it. You'll understand once you become a father." Masaru winked and clapped him on the shoulder.

Oh, he made a joke. Humor related to fatherhood? I should google it later. Hawks laughed, shucked his boots by the rest of the family's shoes, and followed Masaru into his home.

Everything was much the same as it had been when he first visited months ago. The open floor plan was flooded with the smell of curry, so naturally, Hawks followed his nose. The late summer sun floated in through large windows on the rear of the house. Mitsuki was finishing up in the kitchen, her skin glowed under the warm light.

The kids were setting the table, working on opposite sides. Hawks caught a positively frigid look from Katsuki. His feathers prickled faintly. For a fraction of a second it was just the two of them, staring each other down, each waiting for the other to make their move.

Hawks gave him a thumbs up with a cheery smile. Man, he really doesn't like me.

Katsuki snorted and the moment was broken."Your loser boyfriend is here." With that, Katsuki dismissed him.

Usagiyama whipped around, saw Hawks, and the joy on her face withered and died.

Ouch.

"Oh. It's you." She went back to setting the table.

Ouch! So cold!

"I knew Hawks was here, idiot, I heard him land out front. And he's not my boyfriend."

"Hawks is here? Hawks!" Mitsuki was boisterous as always. She pulled him into a quick hug.

How the Bakugo family had welcomed him into their lives so readily still mystified him. They hardly knew him and yet here he was, invited to dinner. Though, he had set this one up himself by dropping hints to Usagiyama during their daily sessions.

"Hey Mrs. Bakugo!"

"We're glad you could make it; I wasn't sure if the invitation would get filtered out by your agency."

"Ah, you don't have to worry about getting in touch, I had your contact info whitelisted, so if you ever need me just holler. Here, let me give you a hand!" As he spoke, several feathers darted around Mitsuki and Masaru, lifting serving dishes and flying them to the dining room table. They also snagged the remaining flatware from the kids and meticulously organized them at each table setting.

"Besides that, all the incoming emails at my agency are routed through my phone, so like, nine times out of ten I'm the first to see 'em." Judging by how the parents marveled at his feathers it looked like his last minute google search of place setting rules had paid off. The kids were somewhat less impressed, surly brats.

Rumi grumbled about him being a show-off.

Katsuki grunted, perhaps in appreciation? It was hard to tell with that kid.

Dinner was a lively affair. Mitsuki and her son sniped at each other at every opportunity.

Masaru and Rumi kept up a sort of silent running commentary on the louder pair by making faces at each other from across the table. Though Rumi, being a teen and certified imp, limited her expressions to violent eye rolling at her mom and rather animated retching whenever her brother opened his mouth.

Masaru looked torn between wanting to chastise Rumi for her rudeness and laughing his ass off. Whether or not the louder pair were oblivious to the byplay chose to ignore it was lost on him. It was a cute dynamic, if totally alien to Hawks. Being able to take part in a normal family dinner like this made his heartstrings feel all warm and fuzzy. When he thought too hard about it, he got a lump in his throat and his eyes prickled, and yet he felt happy, not sad. How odd.

They wound down with dessert: sweet mochi with slices of strawberry, made by Katsuki apparently. It was sweet and chewy, with a little tart burst from the fruit. Delicious. Rumi's had been made with fat slices of carrot, the sharp crack when she bit down told him as much. He wasn't even surprised. Hawks leaned back in his chair.

"So, I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you here this evening." The conversation at the table stilled and Hawks let the silence run for a moment before he chuckled, "Heh, I always did want to say that but never had the opportuni- ty"

Rumi kicked him in the shin. There was a dull thump and the whole table shook.

Hawks' easy grin became a pained grimace.

Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose.

Mitsuki looked confused, but apparently Masaru was quick on the uptake. Or maybe he was just used to his daughter's behavior.

"Are you okay, Hawks?" Rumi tilted her head to the side, ever so innocently. One of her ears bent at the middle, the top half flopped over cutely.

"Fine, fine, just banged my knee, sorry everyone." You little shit. He cleared his throat. "But really, I have an announcement, in the form of legal documents, everyone's favorite! Here, for you." A flight feather smoothly withdrew a letter – addressed to Rumi Usagiyama – from his coat and flew it over to her.

She snatched it away from the feather and gave him a sidelong look.

He just couldn't win.

Rumi tapped the short end of the envelope twice on the table before ripping off the opposing end. The crisp rustling of unfolding paper was all that could be heard.

Mitsuki clutched at her husband's hand. "Well? What does it say? You didn't do anything, did you brat?"

"m'reading, hush." Rumi waved her mom off. The tip of Rumi's tongue poked out at the corner of her mouth.

Hawks cleared his throat to mask his excited trilling. And, in three… two… one…

"What? Wait, WHAT!" Rumi's eyes bulged and she stood so quickly her chair was launched into the wall.

Masaru sighed at the new hole in the drywall.

"Yup!" Hawks chirped, popping the 'p'. Liftoff, we have liftoff!

"No!"

"Yes."

"No way! You're fucking with me!" She pointed at him with the letter, brandishing it like an officer's swagger stick.

Hawks returned a peace sign, which he knew would get under her skin just so. "Who, me? I would never." He bared his teeth in a Cheshire grin.

"Oi, language, you brat! What's it say?" Mitsuki's interjection and the ones that followed went completely unheard by Rumi.

Rumi was working her mouth like a fish, but couldn't decide what to say, so Hawks decided he would be the one to let the cat out of the bag. He tapped at his phone in preparation. "Well, my lovely Bakugo's, the Judicial Review Team at the Commission evaluated Miss Usagiyama's case last month and decided that her sentence is to be reduced for good behavior."

Rumi was still pointing at him. She hadn't moved a muscle since he started talking, aside from swiveling her ears around so they pointed right at him.

He learned some time ago that it was something she did when someone had her undivided attention. It was lethally adorable. "It took a few weeks to get all the relevant signatures – paperwork, I know – but as of today, no more house arrest."

"Oh! Well that's wonderful, isn't it?" Masaru rubbed at the back of his wife's hand. She gaped at him, much like her daughter did.

Rumi's body trembled with violently repressed energy.

Hawks was impressed that she had kept a lid on it for so long. With the press of a button on his phone, the ankle monitor snapped open and fell from Rumi's ankle. It lay on the floor, dead, with the ends of its glossy black band curled inward. "You're a free birdie, congratulations!"

Rumi exploded. She let out a whoop of joy and tackled him. They fell backwards, with Rumi crushing him in a hug. It didn't last long. The back of his chair crashed into the floor and she bounced to her feet, leaving Hawks a ruined mess.

She whirled on her mother. "Katsuki should be ungrounded!" She jabbed her index finger at her brother with a sawtooth grin splitting her face. Her shout rattled the windows.

"I- now… you wait just a damn minute, I don't think-" Mitsuki floundered.

Rumi smelled blood in the water. She leapt over the table, landed next to her mother, and turned the sad bunny eyes up to eleven. " Please mom, he's only grounded because of me, you should let him off early. C'mon, please? Please, please, please, please- "

"Alright, alright, hey- ENOUGH! Goddamn! Fine, damn brats, you're not grounded anymore Katsuki. Don't make me regret it, stupid son."

"Oi! Who you calling stupid son, you old hag!"

Rumi cheered and bounced out of the kitchen at warp speeds.

Hawks didn't bother getting out of his seat, or rather, getting up off the floor where his chair had been flipped over. Instead, he lay there with one leg draped over the front of the chair and his wings splayed out awkwardly. Through the walls he – and probably the whole neighborhood – could hear Rumi thumping about, rattling drawers, and slamming doors in a mad flurry of activity.

Katsuki and his mother were going at it like two dogs separated by a fence: loud, but largely harmless.

Masaru peered down at him from over the table, somewhere between concerned and amused.

Hurricane Rumi tore back into the dining room wearing a new change of clothes – jean shorts, a cropped black camisole, and a light jacket – kissed each parent on the cheek, and snagged Katuski by the ear. "Kay, love you guys, thanks Hawks, dinner was great, gotta go, we'll be home by ten, bye!" She rattled it all off so quickly no one could get a word in edgewise.

"Oi, what the fuck, gerroff me idiot!" Katsuki smacked her hand away but his resistance was futile.

Rumi just crouched, rammed her shoulder into his gut, and stood. Winded, Katsuki was effortlessly draped over her shoulder like a deer carcass. She crossed the distance from the kitchen table to the entryway with a single leap and hurled Katsuki at the door. "Shoes! Shoes! C'mon, c'mon, hurry up!"

"By kids, have fun, be safe. Don't do anything I wouldn't." Hawks called after them. He probably shouldn't have, since they weren't his kids and this wasn't his house, but he couldn't resist. He wheezed with mirth where he lay on the floor. This was about the reaction he had expected, and it made him truly, genuinely happy that he had been able to do something that brought Usagiyama such joy.

He liked it when the kid was bouncing off the walls; Neither moping nor anger suited her. He pointedly ignored that the commission had planned this from day one so he could further endear himself to Usagiyama as a trusted Hero and authority figure. No, he was going to enjoy this, no strings attached.

"Will you just wait a damn second! Where the hell are you going?" Mitsuki roared from her seat.

Masaru was still rubbing the back of her hand.

Hawks was surprised she hadn't gotten up to pursue her kids. Masaru must be a calming influence for her. That, or she had already given up the notion that she could stop those kids from escaping the house and wreaking havoc.

Rumi hollered back a single word, "MIDORIYA!", and the front door slammed.

The house was silent until Mitsuki groaned. "How did we raise such little hellions..." She rubbed her face tiredly.

"Oh, kids will be kids." Masaru stood and started collecting dishes from the table.

"Well, I think your kids are great, and dinner was lovely!" Hawks stuck his hand up over the edge of the table and gave the Bakugo's a thumbs up.

"Oh, you're too kind," Mitsuki blinked, "Er, Hawks? Are you okay down there?"

He waved them off easily. "Oh fine, fine, just stretching my wings. This feels nice."

Masaru chuckled. "Ah, she threw out your back, didn't she? I'm afraid it's inevitable with that girl."

Hawks answered warily, it wasn't on brand for him to be openly injured, especially not at the hands of a rambunctious teen. "Maybe… hypothetically , she did. What then?"

"Well, may I offer you a hypothetical aspirin?"

"…Two, please." Hawks admitted defeat.