I've decided to stop doing full chapter summaries. They take away from the suspense, and it's getting hard to write them without spoilers!

Thank you for your continued comments. I'm so happy people are invested in this story! This chapter is a little shorter than usual; it was originally part of the next chapter, but it was getting way too long. We're finally back to Hawks' POV, so this chapter begins where chapter 2 ended.

Chapter 8: Hidden Things

Now

Hawks is back to the first page he found of Tokoyami's journal. The final "I" is well formed, with no sudden streak of ink. There are no splotches of blood or rips in the page to suggest that whatever happened to prevent Tokoyami from returning to this entry was violent. On the other hand, if Tokoyami went willingly, then why didn't he finish that final word? The whole thing feels too familiar. Hawks is back at square one: Tokoyami has disappeared, and all he has are theories and a bad feeling.

He decides to search the room one more time. It's clear that the League has been reading Tokoyami's journal as well, so it stands to reason that he hid some of his entries. Hawks stands, still careful of his wounds, and does another visual sweep of the room. There's nothing more on the floor except for a few roaches. He almost steps on them, then reconsiders: too many have already lost their lives because of him. Besides, he's in nothing but socks and that would be disgusting.

Next, he inspects possible hiding spots: under the mattress, inside the pillow, tucked into the dictionary, beneath the table. Nothing.

As Hawks lifts himself from looking under the table his head spins. He catches himself against the nearest wall and shuts his eyes, focusing on his breathing and the texture beneath his hands. It's smooth and cool beneath his fingers, until they brush against a long, thick crack in the wall. He runs his fingers idly over the length of it as his vision clears and his pulse slows. Then his nails catch on something softer.

He blinks, vision clearing, and squints at the crack. There's paper inside it, folded over and pressed deep into the crack so that only the very edge of a page sticks out. Hawks' pulse speeds up again as he tugs it free. It looks like Tokoyami has some secret entries after all.

Hawks' hands are trembling as he unfolds the pages. He blames it on his physical condition; the water bottle is nearly empty, and he doesn't know how long it's been since he had anything to eat. The Number Two Hero certainly wouldn't get so worked up over an essay.

Only, it's not an essay at all. It's a drawing, and not a particularly good one at that. Hawks has seen some of Tokoyami's doodles before, and they're better than anything Hawks has scribbled in the margins of his paperwork. The art on this page looks like it was made by a child's clumsy hand, and it takes Hawks a moment to decipher what the image is supposed to be.

It's…a person. A person with tall hair, glasses, and a stick in their hand. They appear to be smiling widely, and there's a speech bubble over them that reads: GO FUMI I HELP YOU.

There's something familiar about the caricature, but Hawks can't quite place it. It's all done in pencil, so there is no color he can use as a clue. He turns the paper over and finds another drawing on the back, clearly made by the same artist. It features a person with striped glasses, dark hair, and long tendrils flowing around them that seem to suggest a vine-like quirk. Above this is the caption: PAIN IS LOGICAL RUSE. I COMING!

Hawks frowns. He knows he's heard of a "logical ruse" before, he just can't think of—

He has a sudden flashback to his encounter with a man in yellow goggles sleeping outside of his office. Eraserhead. The lines floating around him aren't vines, but the hero's capture scarf. Hawks flips the page over again and the first picture becomes clear. It's Present Mic, holding a microphone.

Someone was drawing heroes, each promising to help and support to the captive teen. It would make perfect sense for Tokoyami to need something like this to keep his hopes high. The only problem with that theory is that Hawks is certain Tokoyami is not the artist. So who could have drawn these? The villains? The very idea seems preposterous.

Eager to understand more, Hawks flips to the next page. This one Hawks recognizes immediately: a big man flexing both arms, with bunny-ear hair and a wide grin. There seems to be a medal dangling from one of his hands, and a bunch of circles in the background that suggest a crowd of spectators. All Might at the Sports Festival, where Tokoyami won third place. Above his head is written: YOUNG FUMI YOU STRONG! I AM HERE!

Each new drawing is more complex than the last. The back of All Might's page has multiple figures, ones Hawks thinks he recognizes as Tokoyami's classmates. There's a tall boy with six arms stretched out, some ending in hands and others in mouths or eyes. Next to him is a figures with a triangle for legs (a skirt?), long hair, and a long tongue. Finally, there's another tall boy with a pointed head and some kind of animal on his shoulder. Across the top: THANK YOU FUMI YOU SAVE US.

The next page is another group portrait of 1-A. In the middle are two boys with spiky hair, one smiling and the other looking angry. Hawks actually laughs aloud when he sees that the angry one has their own speech bubble: BIRDBRAIN FUCK. On either side of them are two girls (or so Hawks assumes from the triangle legs), one with a ponytail and the other with short hair and elongated ears. Above the whole group is another message: YOU ROCK. NO GIVE UP.

There are a few more pages depicting more of Tokoyami's classmates and teachers, all with similar words of encouragement. He almost skips past one that shows a man lying on a backpack, a dark shape scribbled out beside him. The caption, however, grabs his attention: IF YOU GOT WINGS FLY.

Hawks hurriedly turns the page sideways. The man isn't lying down, he's flying. A closer look also shows that the scribbles are contained, wrapping around a second figure. Dark Shadow, carrying Tokoyami so that he and Hawks can fly together. A soft sound catches in Hawks' throat, and he quickly moves on.

There's only one page after that, depicting a figure with a triangular face and four lines poking up off his head. Hawks can only assume that it is meant to be Tokoyami himself. The scribbled form of Dark Shadow is beside him, one arm over his shoulder and the other giving a thumbs up. It says: TOGETHER FOREVER. NEVER ALONE. LOVE DARK SHADOW.

This is what Tokoyami has kept from the League. Not his journal, not his depression or his promise to die before giving into the League's demands, but the drawings made by his quirk. Something to keep his hope alive and remind him of all the people he loves. And Hawks is among them. He feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes and wipes them away furiously.

Something else occurs to him as he flips through the drawings again. If Dark Shadow was the one who drew these, then the quirk had to be able to manifest somehow in spite of the lights. This suggests some clever engineering on Tokoyami's part, or that his quirk is even stronger than Hawks suspects. That is, if Dark Shadow is a true quirk at all. Hawks has never heard of another sentient quirk, and he has his theories about how one might come to exist.

The door's hinges creak and Hawks nearly drops drawings. He quickly folds up the pages and stuffs them back into the crack, then collapses onto the cot just as the doctor steps inside with Dabi and Shigaraki right behind him. It seems Hawks' speed hasn't completely failed him yet, even if his body is protesting the sudden flurry of movement. He groans, but at least he can play it off as a product of his injury.

The doctor sighs. "Really, you're going to ruin all the hard work I put into keeping you alive."

"Sorry 'bout that, doc," Hawks gasps out. "You know how I hate making trouble."

Dabi snorts. "That's the only funny joke I've heard you tell."

"He won't be laughing for long," says Shigaraki. "Can he walk?"

The doctor pokes at Hawks for a moment, and Hawks is convinced he's purposefully pressing on all of his sore spots. "There's no fresh bleeding, and he seems stable."

"And?"

"Yes, he can walk. Slowly," the doctor adds, sending Shigaraki a pointed look.

"Wonderful. Now get him up," says Shigaraki.

Dabi hauls Hawks roughly to his feet, despite the doctor's repeated reminders to be gentle, and starts half dragging him out of the room and down the hall. Hawks trips over his own feet since he's paying more attention to his surroundings than to putting one foot in front of the other. It seems like Toga-as-Tokoyami gave him a fairly accurate description of the place, and it matches what he read in Tokoyami's journal. They appear to be in the basement level of a school, with a single hallway that curves behind them so that Hawks can't see where else it might lead. In front of him is an open door, leading back into the interrogation room. The lights blind him as they step inside, and by the time his vision clears Dabi has shoved him into a chair and started to shackle him to it. They're real shackles this time, not ropes. It's flattering that they think so much of his power, even when he's injured and without his feathers – flattering and annoying.

There's a larger audience in the room this time. The entire League is present, as well as the doctor. Twice and Mr. Compress have dragged in spare chairs, while Spinner stands beside them. Toga rocks back and forth on her feet, just a little too close for comfort. The doctor enters last, and Twice immediately vacates a chair for him. Shigaraki shuts the door, and then every eye in the room is on Hawks. He gives them his signature, camera-ready smile. "So! This is the League of Villains. Nice to meet the rest of ya'. Not exactly the way I wanted it to happen, though. Are all the restraints really necessary? I'm on your side."

"Are you now? That's not what Toga heard," says Shigaraki.

"Play their game. When the time comes, I won't leave you behind," Toga says, mimicking his voice. "Sounds pretty damning to me. You even gave me a pretty knife!"

"Alright, the knife was a mistake, I'll admit that one. But I don't understand what you think you're doing now. I did exactly what you assholes told me to do! You wanted me to convince the kid to join your team. How was I supposed to do that if he killed himself? Because that's what I thought was about to happen, not little miss stabby sinking her fangs into me."

"Your blood smelled like it would taste so good! I was right, too." Toga laughs and licks her fingers. There's a bandage on her hand the Hawks didn't notice before. He hopes that means at least one hero got a good hit in. "I had a lot of fun being you. I got to see so many heroes bleed and bruise."

"You were the one destroying my town, then? I figured as much," says Hawks. He keeps his tone light, even if he's already pictured ten ways to murder the girl for what she's done. "Also, I've got a question about that. What. The fuck. Seriously. What the fuck? You murdered at least one of my sidekicks, terrorized civilians, and burned down my favorite chicken place. That's just a dick move."

"Actually, you did all of that. Haven't you seen the news?" says Dabi. "It's on every channel. Number 2 Hero Becomes Number 1 Villain. Hawks: Angel of Death. Wings of War – Hawks Gone Rogue. They're getting pretty creative with the headlines."

"Oh yeah, that's another thing. You completely blew my cover! I can't send you any more information now. No reports, no hero movement, no test subjects. Not a thing," says Hawks.

"I don't think you were giving us all that much to begin with," says Shigaraki. He sighs. "Another contact failed. Well, we can make use of this mess anyway. We'll find something useful in your head if I have to open up your skull and dig it out myself."

"Whoa, whoa! Slow down there oh great and terrible leader. I told you: I'm on your side. If you really were ready to unleash hell and needed a de facto villain to distract from whatever you're doing holed up down here, you should have told me," Hawks replies. He shifts his shoulders, trying to ease the strain of the shackles and the discomfort of the chair against his naked wings.

"So you could prepare the heroes, or choose the place with the least amount of damage? I think not," says Shigaraki. "It seems a little too convenient that you were involved in all the operations that had the lowest number of casualties."

Hawks shakes his head. "I'm all for burning this society to the ground. It's shit, and I'll dance on the ashes when we're done. But if you move too fast you'll burn out. You've got to build the fire slowly. Right, hot stuff?" He gestures to Dabi.

Dabi smirks and pulls out a cigarette. He lights it on the end of his fingers and takes a drag. Smoke curls up from his mouth as he answers. "Nah. I'd rather go all in. It saves time."

"People respond to violence," Mr. Compress adds. "It may be vulgar, but it's true. Each time our attacks get bigger we gain more members and admirers."

"You won't have many admirers if you kill them all," says Hawks.

"Admirers are not the point. We're not like all those pro heroes who lust after fame and glory. But of course you wouldn't understand. You're one of them, after all," says Spinner.

"What exactly do you want me to do to prove that I'm not them? I've already lied, stolen, and killed for you, and now you've so kindly cut whatever ties I had to other pros. I've got no one else but the League," Hawks points out.

"No one? We'll see about that. Compress, release him," Shigaraki orders.

"With pleasure." Mr. Compress stands to display the marble between his fingers. Hawks can just barely make out the black shape within it.

Shit, he thinks. I should have known.

Tokoyami's journal ended almost exactly as it began, after all.