"Usagiyama. Rumi. " Hawks covered her phone with his hand, blocking the screen, "I need you to understand… understand that if you do this, if you sign, that's it. There's no going back." He was uncharacteristically serious, brooding even. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

They perched atop the exposed skeleton of an unfinished building in Tokyo, sat astride one of its great steel ribs. Their feet dangled, a kilometer up from the ground. The sea of glass below shimmered under the rising sun.

"The Commission will own everything that you are and everything you ever will be." They'll break you – I'll break you – and I won't be able to put you back together right.

"Last week you were all over the recruitment thing. Why the sudden about face? Don't think I haven't noticed you being wishy-washy, it really doesn't suit you." Rumi laid her hand on top of his. She squeezed gently.

"I'm… somewhat conflicted," Hawks shrugged, "I know what the commission needs, what they want from me. From you. I just don't know if what I want… I don't know what I want." He withdrew his hand and laid back on the girder, crossing his hands behind his head.

Rumi looked up. The last traces of red-orange daybreak were fading into the bright blue sky. She liked being up this high. There was a sort of peace in sitting and watching the world, detached from it all. She ran her thumb across the edge of her phone, where the glass of the screen met the rubber of the case. "I'd be saving lives. That's what you said. Stopping Kurogiri from disappearing more people."

His face twitched and he took a breath.

It was strange, seeing all these little faults in Hawks perfect persona. It was almost like watching Katsuki in his rare moments of vulnerability. Sometimes she felt that 'Hawks' was just a nudge away from crumbling off his face. She wondered what would be under that mask. A grotesque emotional disaster? A hollow drone? How morbid .

"You might be able to save some lives, yes, but the… Kurogiri is just a means to an end. You know that, right?" The Commission doesn't want to risk you going to the other side.

Rumi bit her tongue in consideration. Hawks had shown her a rough outline of the training she would be subjected to if she signed on. It was, for what he claimed to be a rough draft, extensive. And long. There was a list of milestones with projected dates on them. The furthest one was two years away. Two years. She'd be fifteen, almost sixteen then. The excuse of recruiting her just to help with the Kamino case was just that, an excuse. And a flimsy one at that, that much was obvious to her.

She knew Hawks was a better liar that that. Investing so much time and money into a middle school delinquent to maybe lead to the arrest of someone who might be a villain at some point two years down the line was, well, stupid. She wasn't quite sure why Hawks kept pussyfooting around, but it was clear that someone at the Commission thought she'd fit nicely into their creepy little Junior Hero program.

"Yeah, I figured it was something like three false pretenses wearing a trench coat. But… if I become a hero, then I'd be saving more people than just the ones that Kurogiri might be hurting, yeah?"

"You could become a hero by the standard route. Go to UA. Or Shiketsu. Get trained by real pros, get licensed. You wouldn't have to be thrown into the deep end."

"Ew, Shiketsu." Rumi stuck out her tongue. "Their uniforms might be cool, but you're nuts if you think I'm not applying to UA. My brother and I both are going there."

"The Boy too." Hawks nudged her thigh with his boot, but his words weren't so cheery.

Her ear twitched, but she let it slide. Mostly. "Bitch, I will knock your mopey ass right off this building… But seriously. Do you really think I'd turn you down? License in two years through you, or in five years through school? How many people that need saving would I miss in that three-year gap?" She was getting that itch again, the one with fangs and rage. It had been a while since they'd last sparred, and this mopey side of Hawks was frustrating her more than it should.

"You can't save everyone. Hell, even All Might misses every now and then. You can't put that weight on yourself before you even become a hero."

"I know. But I can do my absolute goddamn best to save everyone," The phone pinged when she pressed her thumb to the fingerprint sensor, "or my name's not Mirko the Hero." The contract was signed. She smiled toothily at Hawks, holding her hands up by her head like rabbit ears.

Izuku, Rumi, and Katsuki lay on the roof of Izuku's apartment building, watching the stars. The evening was warm, and the sky clear.

Rumi pointed up in the air. "Ooh, ooh, shooting star, make a wish!"

Izuku squinted, certain that she was pointing at an airplane. It blinked red and green. Yeah, definitely an airplane. Rumi seemed happy though, so he wasn't about to say anything.

Katsuki had no such reservations. "That's a jet, dumbass."

Izuku snickered at the meaty thwack and the pained grunt that followed. "It's a Shooting. Star. Kacchan." With Katsuki dealt with, Rumi turned back to him. She nudged his shoulder with a smile. "C'mon, make a wish, birthday boy." Weaving her fingers into his, she untangled a stray lock of hair from her long eyelashes, tucking it behind an ear.

Izuku turned his eyes skyward in a hurry. Right then and there, Izuku wished he wouldn't get so flustered around her.

The instant Rumi set foot on the beach her body decided 'enough is enough' and switched off her legs. She tumbled into the scalding sand, coming to rest in an undignified heap of limbs and rage. Every breath scorched her lungs. It would be great if Zeus struck her down with a bolt of lightning right about now. Or any spiteful deity, she wasn't picky. High above she saw Hawks shrieking out of the clouds, brandishing a pinion feather in each hand. She wheezed and rolled out of the way just as he landed, stabbing his pinions deep into the sand. "Are you… completely… goddamn… insane!?" She heaved, glaring balefully.

"One hour, thirty-six minutes, fifteen seconds. Not bad, not bad at all. For a flightless bunny. Endurance could use some work." Withdrawing his feathers with a flourish, Hawks stood up.

Rumi eyed them, knowing just how sharp they were, despite appearances. "You try sprinting forty kilometers and tell me how you feel after, fuckface!" She turned her head and puked. "Oh. Oh god. I think I'm dying."

Hawks laughed and flicked his Bluetooth speaker into the sand. Rumi's head, already swimming, throbbed in time with the thumping bass. "Ooh," the Bastard trilled, "this one's a banger! Now come on, a real Villain won't give you time to recover. Defend yourself!" A single flap of his wings launched Hawks at her, his feathers slicing towards her neck.

Scrambling, Rumi cursed. What the hell had she signed up for?

All students at Aldera Junior High had to take the same eight classes: Japanese language, social studies, mathematics, science, music, fine arts, health and physical education, and either industrial arts or homemaking. Katsuki had been the highest scoring student across the board at the end of each term since enrolling, earning him the highest cumulative GPA and the top spot in the overall rankings. Katsuki had been top dog, was top dog, and would continue to be top dog until the universe imploded

Scores from the last round of exams had just been released. Mr. Yasuo hung the updated rankings on the announcement board outside the teachers' lounge. Katsuki sneered at the crowd of extras, school of brainless fish that they were, crushing each other just get a glimpse. A few snuck glances at him. That wasn't unusual, but the pointing and snickering was.

So naturally, Katsuki shoved his way to the front to see what was so goddamn funny to these losers. He damn near blasted a hole in the wall when he figured it out. The top name on the ranking chart wasn't his, no, it was his sisters. She'd scraped by, and only just, beating him to the top spot by one thousandth of a grade point. Adding insult to injury, Deku had somehow dragged his dead weight up to third place.

Someone punched him in the arm hard enough to stagger him. A shooting pain raced down to his fingers, leaving them numb and tingly. Katsuki whipped around, snarling, ready to kill whoever wanted to pick a fight.

Rumi – because of course it would be her – stood next to him, and she was the only one. The rest of the crowd flinched back as one, leaving a No Man's Land of empty hall behind. They cowered, as though he'd bring the building down in his wrath. In fairness, that was a valid assumption on some days.

Rumi leaned in, smug as can be, and drawled. "I'm back, bitch."

"I'm home!" Rumi bounced into the kitchen, energetic as usual. Just back from a run, she wore leggings and a sports bra with her hair up in a messy bun.

Izuku sat at the Bakugo's kitchen table, doodling in Volume 11 of his Analysis series. His mom was out on patrol, and so he had come over after school let out.

Suddenly, Rumi was close. Far, far too close. It was like his brain had skipped a few frames between her coming in and her standing in his personal space. Was she always this fast? She's been working really hard to prepare for UA, and she's gotten stronger, AND her quirk's been developing so quickly, so it would stand to reason that her speed would increase alongside her other abilities. The muscle groups in her legs have grown substantially too. If her power output is also increasing at the same rate then-

"Oi, mutter-mouth, look, look. I have abs now, isn't that awesome?!" She grabbed his hands and planted them on her belly. Her skin, hot to the touch, was sticky with sweat. She moved his fingertips around with her own. Sure enough, he could feel the beginnings of definition just below her sternum. They weren't fully developed – he could only feel the top row of muscles – but they were there.

"Sorry, I probably stink." She did, or rather, Izuku could smell her, but it wasn't unpleasant.

He took a breath. She smelled like she'd just been rolling in lawn clippings, which wasn't unusual for her. It was a rabbit thing in some way or another. "You smell great- FINE! You smell fine!" His ears burned hot and he wrenched his hands away.

Rumi leered down at him, exposing a lot of teeth. Sharp teeth.

He gulped.

"Hey, you should come." She purred, "come help me… wash my hair, I mean." Looming, she clutched at him like stolen goods and made to drag him off.

Mrs. Bakugo quickly intervened. "I think you're more than capable of washing your own hair, you little shit." She tweaked one of Rumi's ears, forcing the girl up on her tiptoes.

Izuku caught his eyes roaming up Rumi's body. Her tail twitched madly, just above her… Oh my god. He'd seen her in leggings a hundred times before, bet he'd never really seen her. About eight absurd fantasies crashed through his brain before he realized he was staring and turned away sharply.

Swatting at her mother's arm, Rumi whined. "Ay! Leggo, I wasn't going to do anything! Mom!"

"HA! You think I'm stupid? I was fourteen once, I know exactly what you're after. Go on! And leave the poor boy alone before you give him a heart attack!" Mrs. Bakugo finally released her.

Rumi, defeated, slunk away, but not before shooting him a ravenous look.

Izuku shivered. He went back to his notebook but found himself wholly unable to focus. Maybe he'd just… keep his notebook in his lap... for a little while. He groaned and smacked his forehead into the table.

On a weekend in October, around midnight, Rumi carefully slipped out of her bedroom window, a pair of stiletto heels in hand. Softly landing in the yard below, despite the three-story drop, she loped off down the sidewalk towards the city proper. Making quick time to K3 – a popular nightclub downtown – she skulked around back to avoid the crowd at the door. Her goal was simple. Get into K3 without using the front door, get a package from the DJ's booth, and leave through the front door. Don't get caught. This was Hawks' idea of training her to sneak about, or rather, how to blend in. Hence the heels and the scandalous Little-Black-Dress she'd shoehorned herself into.

The coast was clear. Good, but the back door was locked. Not so good. No ladder either. She'd have to jump up to the roof. With a sigh Rumi hiked her dress up past her hips, tucking the fabric into her volleyball shorts. The stupid slinky thing had been expensive, and she wasn't about to burst it at the seams. Besides, a torn-up dress wouldn't do her any favors once she got inside.

Crouching, she eyed the edge of the roof and leapt. She cleared the edge easily, about ten meters up in the air.

Peeking through a skylight, she saw little more than flashing lights and the crush of bodies on the dance floor. Grumbling about the loud music, she crammed a pair of custom plugs in her ears. She'd get a migraine if she went in without them. These sensitive ears were a curse more often than they were a blessing. Or at least a pain in the ass. 'Curse' was a bit over dramatic.

Slipping through one of the skylights, Rumi landed on a stage-light gantry hung from the ceiling. The aluminum truss swayed faintly under her weight. From there she hopped to a service catwalk and followed it until it descended into the crossover backstage. There wasn't a soul to be seen. Were a live band playing then she wouldn't be so lucky. Or maybe it wasn't luck at all, since Hawks put her up to this. He had probably meddled in some way or another.

Reaching the DJ's booth after that was trivial. From directly behind the DJ she crawled forward until she could just reach out and touch them. A little jolt of adrenaline got her heart pumping. Her eyes darted around, searching, searching, trying to find the parcel. Hawks had said it was small and would – of course – have a red feather stenciled on the side. There, taped to the underside of the booth! Rumi snatched it when the DJ was turned the other way and retreated backstage, then to a long hallway that let out by the manager's office near the bar.

With no bouncer in sight she trotted off, weaving through the crowd and out the front door. No one looked twice. A few blocks down the street, she set the package down to take off her heels. She froze when she went to grab it again. "What the fuck?" The feather painted on the box had been red. Had. It was blue now. Rumi carefully turned it over in her hands. It looked no different, save for the color change, but it felt much lighter. Was she seeing things? She tore it open. Inside was a business card. One side had 'HAWKS' printed on it. 'Better luck next time. Keep your eye on the ball!' was scrawled across the back in cramped handwriting. When the hell had he… Now, just now, when she set it down to take of her stupid shoes!

"Hawks, you fucker!" He'd snatched it right out from under her nose!

Hawks was pissed. He hid it well, but not well enough to escape Rumi's notice. What specifically about this situation set him off? The myriad of electrodes glued to her skin, wired into various monitors? The IV drip attached to the back her hand? Or the mystery drug the Commission drones had administered through the injection port?

Glassy-eyed, she stared at Hawks, who sat high up in the rafters. As far away as possible, while maintaining line of sight on her. The distance didn't really matter though – Hawks was fast enough to break the bloody sound barrier if need be. Rumi felt some measure of safety with him observing, despite the half dozen HPSC technicians dissecting her with scalpel-sharp questions.

She felt… detached. Like she was watching the room from a screen somewhere else. Her head swam, half lucid, half delirious. Her mouth was moving, so Rumi knew she was talking, but she didn't hear the words. She couldn't hear what the lab coats were asking either, it was like she had gone deaf. In a fleeting moment of clarity, Rumi decided that it was the people around her that upset Hawks. He must hate them.

An avalanche of valentines buried her shoes when she opened her locker. The Pile had returned. Rumi groaned. "Oh, what the hell?" She wasn't really surprised; this happened every year after she hit puberty. Stupid horny boys. She scooped up the pile and shuffled it into some form of order. Slamming her locker, Rumi wandered to the nearest trashcan and started sorting.

"No. No. No. Cute, but no. Pass. Oh, hell no, toss. Eww, no. Ooh, unmarked and lumpy, a bribe?" Curiously, she sniffed the envelope. Caramel? Ahh, it was from Kacchan. She tore it open and read it to herself. "'Dear Loser, I hate you. Die in a fire. Katsuki. PS: Fuck you.'" With the letter was a single baby carrot in a little plastic baggie. Rumi laughed, crunched on the carrot, and shuffled her brother's valentine in to the keep pile. It was going on the corkboard over her desk when she got home.

"Toss, toss, toss. Keep. Toss. Huh… I'm flattered, but not gay, so… keep? That one's a toss. Wait, is that… is that from the gym teacher? Aww man, what the actual fuck?" A new 'evidence' pile was made exclusively for that one. She'd reached the end of the pile but hadn't found the main event, and that just wouldn't do. Stuffing the keep pile into her bag, Rumi marched off. Keen eyes spotted a mop of green hair after she rounded the corner down the hall. Target sighted.

Rumi hovered, waiting patiently for Izuku to turn and jump out of his skin. And that would happen, the boy was skittish as all hell. She hadn't even tried to sneak up on him, but the nerd was completely oblivious to her presence. Curious, she peered over his shoulder. It helped that she was a few centimeters taller than him.

"Oh." The word came softly. He'd just gotten his locker open and spotted the single valentine waiting for him. Opening it with great care, Izuku unfolded the paper to read.

Rumi saw her own neat handwriting and felt a nervous jab in her gut. 'I'd say be mine, but I'm already yours. - Rumi'. The back of his neck went pink as he read, and the idea of jumping out of the window behind them felt quite appealing now. Ruthlessly crushing those cowardly thoughts, Rumi smashed her palm into the locker next to Izuku's head, boxing him in. It made a tremendous bang.

He shrieked, whirling to face her, clutching her valentine to his chest. "Ah, R-Rumi!" He straightened a bit – but not much – once he realized he wasn't about to get his ass kicked by Katsuki or someone equally unpleasant.

Leaning in until her nose brushed his, she squinted dangerously. "Boy, we need to talk. The Pile felt suspiciously light this year. You wouldn't be holding out on me… would you?" The top few buttons of her shirt were unbuttoned, and she caught his eyes wandering. Good.

"No!" Face twisted comically, Izuku scrambled, digging through his bag until he found what he was looking for. "I, well, I wrote one. B-but I wanted to give it to you in person." He held out a peace offering: a wrinkled envelope with her name on the front. She sagged in relief; all doubts washed away.

Rumi pressed her forehead against the mirror, gripping the sink like a lifeline. She'd tried to go in today. To the Roost. Hawks turned her away the moment she showed up. Told her to take a week for herself, said he would run interference with the suits. He swept her up and personally flew her home. The slow drip… drip… of blood hitting the porcelain echoed in her ears. Her nose was bleeding again. Everything took so much effort, so much time, so much out of her.

Straightening as much as she could manage, Rumi looked over herself. She looked like hammered shit. Sunken, bloodshot eyes over dark bags. Greasy hair. Blood crusting over on her nose and upper lip. Carefully, gingerly, she stripped down, dully looking over the mottled purple-yellow bruising scattered over her skin. She ached, deep in her bones. Her hands, her knees, her back, everywhere. She was losing weight.

Losing time too. She hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks and months flew by with no hint of slowing. August had somehow become late November, and she couldn't accurately say when that happened, or what had happened in that time. She was surprised: Hawks had told the truth when he said the Commission would break her down.

A year and six months after her fight with Rappa, Mirko found herself fighting in a Musutafu alleyway. It wasn't one-on-one this time, but three-on-one. One brandished a baseball bat. The second swung a chain around like a whip. The third, a giant with a rhinoceros head, fought barehanded. 'When you have to fight, put your opponent down hard.'Hawks had instructed her.

Mirko blasted Rhino into the side of a dumpster with a double-barreled kick to the chest. The steel caved in around his bulk. Landing neatly on her feet, Mirko tracked the two behind her by sound. 'Put them down fast. Cripple them if you have to.' The clinking of steel chain links had her sway backwards. The padlock at the end of the chain missed her by a hair. A snappy heel kick to the jaw put Chains down for good. Two down, one to go. 'But do not kill them.'

Batter stepped back, cagey, looking for a way out. There was no escape. He lashed out.

Mirko met the bat with a swing of her own arm, shattering the wood where the handle met the barrel. She dropped him with a single jab. Thank god for glass jaws.

That was that.

"Nice work Mirko!" That was Hawks' voice. He landed in the alley and rustled around in what sounded like a plastic bag. "Well, looks like the intel was good. We've got Trigger," He whistled lowly, "and lots of it too. There are three more dealers we need to nab, go find them. Take the roofs, it's faster. Oh, and keep the blindfold on."

Mirko hopped up the side of the alley, grumbling.

"Hi Mrs. Midoriya- sorry, he's in his room, yeah?" Rumi didn't ask to come in or exchange any pleasantries. If she did then Mrs. Midoriya would see it on her face, she would know, and she couldn't deal with that right now. Pens and paper exploded out of her bag when it hit the ground – she had meant to toss it on the kitchen table, but it landed right on the edge and slipped off. "Fuck!" It was a mess. Too much, too loud, it was out of control. She couldn't breathe. She had to go. Gasping for air and tearing around the corner she hurtled down the short hall. Izuku's door opened.

"Mom? I heard a- Rumi?" He stumbled back.

She crashed into him.

They fell.

Rumi buried her face in Izuku's neck and crushed him in her arms. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe! When she went dizzy, she finally forced her lungs to work, and then wished she hadn't. She heaved, sobbing into Izuku's shoulder. No! No, no, NO!

"Rumi, what on- what's wrong? Why are you-" He carefully put his arms around her, unsure of what to do.

"Stop. Just, stop. Shut up! I'm not crying. I'm not!" She hated this so damn much, this blubbering. "It's- I've just had a rough week, okay, just- just leave me alone!" Squeezing him tighter, she uncorked the bottle. It was loud. It was ugly. She'd moved from struggling to breathe straight to hyperventilating.

He'd need a new shirt after this, poor guy. Thankfully, he took a hint and held her silently. A floorboard in the hallway creaked. Hawks' training took over for a moment: Inko Midoriya – Inspire – standing at seven o'clock roughly two meters away. Unarmed. Non-hostile. The assessment, unwarranted and unwanted, was shoved aside. Doing that was not okay. Not in this apartment. Not now, not ever.

Inko closed the door softly, giving them their privacy.

Rumi cried until she fell asleep. At around three in the morning she woke in Izuku's bed, alone, still dressed in her school uniform. Blearily, she stripped naked and threw on one of Izuku's sweatshirts. With his blanket around her shoulders, she tottered into the living room, where she found him fast asleep on the couch. "Stupid boy." She huffed. Biting back a yawn, Rumi clambered onto the couch, wedging her back against his chest. She'd settle for being the little spoon, just this once.

Izuku mumbled in his sleep, nuzzling against her ear and squeezing her tight.

"We're seeing an increase in activity around Kamino Ward, Hawks. Your timetable's been accelerated, we expect you to finalize her training soon."

Hawks watched the kids drop off their applications for the UA hero course from on high. He lay stretched out on the roof of an office building, about thirty stories up, with his chin propped on his forearms. They looked so excited, even Usagiyama's grump of a brother was smiling. And they were growing like weeds: They had sprung up at least five centimeters each, with Bakugo taking the lead with nearly eight, it was incredible!

Midoriya hesitated to deposit his letter, until Usagiyama punched him in the shoulder.

"Hell yeah, we're going to kick so much ass together! Come on, let's celebrate!" She tried her damndest to break his spine with a hug after he committed.

"Ru-mi… crush… ing… me…"

"The only ass Deku will end up kicking is his own, and I have better things to do than waste my time with you losers. I'm out of here."

Usagiyama dropped Midoriya on his ass without ceremony.

"Yeah, about that… See, Usagiyama intends to apply to UA's hero course in February. She seems pretty set on attending. It might even improve on her training. I mean, I'm good, but I'm not perfect." Hawks struggled not to fidget before the Commission president's desk. He always felt like a when he stood before her.

"Like hell you are," Usagiyama easily caught her brother in a headlock. Hawks winced when he saw the muscles in her arm ripple and clench. She had grown lean and mean in the last two years. The girl had a fanatic work ethic in the gym, the ring, the track, pretty much anywhere she could use her body. Sometimes her fervor intimidated even him, and he was no slouch. She effortlessly dragged Bakugo down the street, while Midoriya followed along, ineffectively trying to mediate peace.

Hawks cooed, watching them until they disappeared from his line of sight. He spread his wings flapped once, gently lifting him into a handstand on the edge of the roof. He held it for a moment, before letting gravity pull him over the edge. Furling his wings, he savored the wind rushing over him. He bled his speed about a meter from the pavement, flipping around to land smoothly on his feet.

"Then you will intercept that application before it reaches UA. Need I remind you that the obligations Usagiyama agreed to supersede all others?"

"Hey, how're you doing? Hi, nice weather, right? Good morning ma'am, how's your hip today? Dude, I love your shirt, where did you get it?" Hawks moved through the bustle and across the street with ease, shaking hands and greeting people as he went. As he passed the mailbox a stubby little feather darted out of the slot, returning to its place in his right wing. It carried Usagiyama's application with it. The paper rustled unpleasantly against his feathers.

"This asset cannot be lost, Hawks."

Perched atop the office building once more, Hawks ran his thumb over Usagiyama's name on the front of the envelope. 0.7mm ballpoint, blue ink, probably a Klik-It, or maybe an UltraRoller, judging by the specific shade of blue. The letters were deeply embossed in the paper. He could probably lift plenty of information by making pencil rubbing from outside the envelope. Sloppy. Not that the application wasn't already covered in her personal information, it was more the principle of it. Good habits and all that. Hawks kicked himself. He helped her fill out the application yesterday, he should have caught it. She'd just been so excited. It was infectious.

"Understood ma'am." He gave his most disarming smile with a thumbs up. He needed more candied ginger. Maybe he could snag some from Suki at reception? She was the one who introduced him to the spicy root in the first place.

Hawks flicked his wings; he was going to shed his pinion feathers soon judging by the faint itching. Inconvenient timing. The people below milled about, oblivious. His nose dripped from the ginger sting in his sinuses. The envelope crinkled when he carefully tucked it into his coat. That was another good habit, treating documents gently. When information gathering, leaving behind even the smallest crease, smudge, or winkle could tip the scales and get you caught. It was amazing what paranoid people would fixate on. Anything could be a red flag, a reason that you should be disposed of. He'd drilled it into Usagiyama's head: leave a trace, lose your life.

He sighed. "This sucks." The line of reasoning was clear enough: If you invest time and money in training an asset, make sure you keep that asset. At the same time, Usagiyama was the first person who Hawks could genuinely call a friend, despite the odd circumstances. Not friendly, but a real friend. One who worried if he was getting enough sleep and threatened to kick his ass if he didn't eat proper meals. One who asked if he wanted to talk about some of the darker parts of his life. She cared, and it hurt, because here he was, about to stab her in the back.

Sharp eyes singled out the postal worker from the crowd. Was it already five? Some days, time seemed to fly faster than he could. The envelope was leaden in his pocket. He told himself it was okay. It was justified, because Rumi would still become a hero. A better hero. One the people didn't know they needed and would never know existed. Eventually she would develop a public persona, but that persona would be forever disconnected from the real Usagiyama. Just like him: Hawks the Hero, Hawks the Spy.

Where was this guilt coming from? He was supposed to be able to compartmentalize and manage emotions like this. It hadn't been an issue for more than ten years. He watched the postal worker unlock the mailbox and begin emptying it into their satchel. Hawks groaned and rubbed his face. "You're a hero, Hawks, act like one. What would All Might do?" Right, time to act. He swooped to the sidewalk below, much faster than earlier. Braking harder than necessary next to the postal worker, he drummed up a gust of wind, scattering letters everywhere.

The poor woman swore, scrambling after them. Perfect. "Oh man, my bad! I really need to watch where I land, huh? Here, let me help." His wings exploded from his back. The swarm of feathers raced around, each collecting a letter and neatly returning them to their proper place. He didn't miss one. Hawks went on his way, leaving the bewildered postie behind with an apology, a smile, and one more letter.

Hawks decided that today was the beginning of his rebellion.