Fate's Fickle Wings

by winterziyle

It begins with a Lightbulb falling from a balcony. Fate sets in motion the beginning of a another Upheaval, that will leave their society changed again - though - whether they all come out of it alive will be entirely in the hands of those they call heroes, and whom Hawks comes to call family.

1. Chapter 1: A Lightbulb

FATE'S FICKLE WINGS

By WinterZyle

Chapter One: A Lightbulb

Keigo squinted at the spec visible on his visor, and now that he had noticed that one spec, all the other impurities made themselves known. Impeccable eyesight was a curse as much as it was a boon. The dust particles and grease smears were taunting him, reminding him he hadn't been bothered with cleaning his visor for days. And now—now it was the end of a long day, and he was annoyed.

Alright, annoyed was perhaps too strong a word; perhaps just tired. The days and nights were long, patrolling the skies and streets. Sometimes they dragged, blurring into a fragmented collage of fast paced moments, faces and voices. How could time be both so slow, and yet also so fast. What brief, breathless pauses he did have to himself—like now—gliding high above the city, as the cool evening settled across the land, were rare. His meeting with Madam President had made his wings burn. That woman knew how to be a condescending, dogmatic old hag. There was always that knowing glint in her eyes, that no matter what, they owned him—and she considered him nothing more than her expertly trained, leashed hero.

Years of work—

And he was still in a cage.

Madam President's mocking voice followed him everywhere, reminding him that he only lived the illusion of freedom.

This was the life fate had dealt him. There was nothing else to do but ride the wind currents, whichever way they took him. Though, thinking about it, he really should have stopped off at the local convenient store, where the dear old manager always kept an extra sweet roll for him to take along with his usual unbearably boring ramen.

Keigo sighed.

Pro Hero or an average, mundane person, he was pretty sure everyone experienced the same phase in life; returning home to a dark, empty apartment after an exhausting day and realising there was nothing there but barrenness and echoing thoughts.

He hated it.

He hated that he'd reached that point so early. Realised he wanted more—needed more—so damn soon.

This was entirely the fault of living life hard and fast, being the youngest Pro Hero – blaa, blaa, something, something – it felt like all his peers were twice his age. He was going to blame Endeavour for this. Yeah. This was all Endeavour's fault.

Keigo chuckled. Ah well, at least it was something to whinge to the old man about at their next meet and greet. He could just picture the pinched, uncomfortable look on the burly man's face.

"Haha, adorable." Keigo twirled

A single feather twitched.

He reacted to the vibration, his wings snapping back, sending him plummeting into the city lights below. Where—where was it—where was it coming from? One moment he saw her tumbling, the next he'd caught her, jettisoning into the sky to miss the half dozen apartment blocks boxing him in.

"Holy Smokes." He choked out, clutching the trembling body to his chest in a frantic panic as his head caught up with the reactional speed of his limbs and wings.

"Wow, you're actually a falling lightbulb. You could have shattered." He wanted his tone to be jovial, but it did not come out with its usual upbeat twang. That had been a close one.

"Oh…oh…my…" A muffled voice spoke into his jacket. "The balcony railing just…"

His stomach knotted as his gaze shifted to the apartment blocks far below. There it hung on rusted out screws, dangling into the dark drop below, a flimsy metal barrier. That—that was all it had taken—

His arms around her tightened as she buried her sobs into his jacket.

"It's okay," he assured. "I've got you."

But he almost hadn't, and that made his blood run cold. If he'd stopped off at the convenient store, or if his meeting had run late—if he hadn't left early—if—if—

Fate was a fickle thing.

"Come on, let's get your feet back on some solid ground, heh." He slowly descended, aiming for the dilapidated guard-railing, and eyeing it with heated ill-contempt. He wasn't sure who he was supposed to be annoyed at right now, the woman for not having it checked, the landlord for the lack of upkeep, some poor maintenance worker somewhere that would catch his ire, or for its mere existence. His landing was ungraceful, due mostly to the tight constraints of the balcony, and the woman flinched. Actually, he was pretty sure he heard something that sounded like a painful hiss.

"Sorry, that was a high-speed catch. I probably took the wind out of you." He carefully checked her neck. A static discharge danced between her skin and his fingers, making his feathers twitch. Lightbulb. He'd literally caught a falling lightbulb.

"Sorry. Sorry. It's my quirk." She rubbed at her damp cheeks, trying desperately to halt her tears.

"Hey, hey, it's fine. I'm just checking for whiplash."

"Oh." Her nose wrinkled. "I wouldn't even have thought about that."

Yeah…most people didn't. But then again, most people didn't travel at the speeds he did, and they didn't have to calculate catching people at those speeds. It had near driven him insane as a teen, figuring it all out. Now the memories were always there, haunting him; the hundreds, if not thousands, of training dummies he'd snapped and broken while trying to prefect his ability to catch living things without damaging them or killing them. He'd had to make it second nature to take the brunt of the immediate halt. His body, after all, was born for it—no one else was. It was terrifying, how easy it would have been to slip up. How a delicate little dove's neck could be snapped. People broke so very, very easily.

"You might be a bit bruised," he whispered. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Her hands clutched at his jacket. Yep. They were like vices, the knuckles white to the bone as she struggled to settle her trembling bare feet back on the concrete of the balcony.

"Yeah, I can tell, you're totally fine."

That earned him a tart glare and he grinned at the reaction. Ah, there was still a lit fire behind all that fear. She was, indeed, going to eventually be fine. Very valiantly she tried to stand, and walk, getting about a pace to the alfresco doors before her shaking legs gave out under her. Her whole body keeled over.

"Oh my gosh." She clutched a hand to her mouth. "I actually can't walk."

"And that'd be the shock setting in." He heaved off his jacket, tucking it around her tightly as he scooped her up. "You need to stay warm. Got a heater in here?"

"I do, yeah."

It was a tight fit through the glass doors, but years of manoeuvring his wings around awkward spaces really paid off. There was more freedom to move inside the small studio apartment. The walls and floor were all concrete, the plumbing showed through the ceiling and he was pretty sure it was all done deliberately in a stylised fashion. It should have been off-putting and stark, grey and unappealing, but instead there was something otherworldly and ethereal about the way the soft lights created a gentle ambiance against driftwood inspired furniture and soft, airy drapes. He gently settled her down on a couch.

"You okay, not going to faint on me?"

She slowly shook her head in reply.

"Heater?" he asked.

"The control desk." She raised a trembling arm, slipping it out from under his large jacket to point to a wooden desk by the panoramic windows overlooking the city view. At first glance, it really did look like any other normal wooden work desk, until he stood next to it, and the holographic display flickered to life at his presence.

"Oh…okay…neat…"

Control desk? There was a control desk inside a humble little studio apartment? What was she, some sort of super-villain?

"You can select the temperature on the display." She added.

He flicked through the touchscreen. There was so much information, not just about the small studio apartment, but it went on, and on. Was it the entire complex, no—it was several city blocks—wait—was it—was it the whole city?

Did she—did she control—

He shook his head, dismissing his panicked thoughts. He found the heating function and cranked up the heat. The soft, airy drapes hanging from the ceiling began to flutter as warm air blew in from somewhere.

"High tech." He glanced back at her.

"Thanks, I designed it all myself."

"This whole place?"

She nodded, curling deeper into his jacket.

"Got a blanket?" He clasped her shaking hands. Still cold, still clammy. He wasn't going to leave until she was at least capable of standing and wasn't a faint risk.

"Just, um, grab whatever is on the bed."

He bounced over the coffee table. "Righty-oh."

Her head snapped up. "Oh! No, wait! Wait. Stop. Don't look! Oh, my gosh…you're already there aren't you…" She buried her head between her knees, her silver hair falling to the ground.

Keigo halted, hands raised. "Ah, it's not exactly far to the bed…oh…oh…oh that's adorable." A grin split his face at one particular poster amongst several stuck on the concrete wall. He was up there with All-Might and Mirko.

Keigo bounced onto the bed, perching there to stare at the poster curiously. He'd signed it, which meant they'd met somewhere before. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't tend to give out his autograph. It was too easy to abuse an autograph. The status symbol behind a simple signature was a little disturbing. He'd always preferred to force personal interaction, to wear the mask, to smile and chat to as many folk as he could while out on patrol. Information was everywhere, and he simply had to absorb it from all sources.

But for him to have felt the actual need to sign something—

Keigo frowned.

"Oh…oh…you're that woman I literally almost killed a few months ago." Keigo stared at her. She slowly raised her head, just enough that her glowing blue eyes peered through her silver hair. "I blew you back onto the street into on coming traffic. Wow, you know, I still feel awful about that." He thumped down onto the bed. "I cannot believe we've met again."

She straightened up, her long hair rolling down her shoulders in electric ripples that made aura lights on the dark studio apartment walls. He could picture it, how mundane, even perhaps off-putting and sickly her pale appearance would have been in the daylight, yet in the inky depths of night her Quirk came alive with a bioluminescent, unearthly glow. It was no wonder he hadn't recognised her, she looked like someone else entirely in the daytime.

"Fate evening things out, maybe? You almost kill me, now you save me." She shrugged, only to flinch and clutch at her neck. That wasn't a positive sign.

He dragged the blanket off the bed, throwing it around her until she was bundled up like a marshmallow. With a small lift of his wings he stepped over the coffee table, heading for the kitchen.

"Got coffee? Tea?"

"Just make yourself at home, yeah." She quipped.

"Thanks, I will." He retorted, manoeuvring through her kitchen. It was pretty obvious she was an All-Might fan, considering the small collection of mugs designed after each of his suits over the years. It was an impressive collection; he wasn't sure if he'd ever seen all of them together before.

"Wow. Okay. You apparently really like tea." He stared at the long row of perfectly lined, and beautifully displayed glass jars of different teas. Coloured coded and each to their different regions of origins, or at least, he presumed so—tea was just bitter leaves in hot water if he was being really brutal.

"There is a tea for every occasion." Her voice pitched into a sing-song tone.

"Yeah, it's called coffee, liquid of the gods." He deadpanned back.

"Careful, I'll burn your poster."

"I'll just get you another one." Keigo hunted through the teas, finding something he recognised to dish out into the All-Might mugs.

"I still can't believe you're in my apartment." She'd buried herself back amongst the blanket huddle. "Making me tea."

"I still can't believe you fell off your fucking balcony." He muttered under his breath, glancing at the sliding doors.

"Do you meet all your girlfriends this way?" Her head poked out from the blanket.

He couldn't help it. He laughed. "You know what one of the most uncomfortable things about being a Pro Hero is?" He set the pot to boil and leant back on the countertop. "I'm allowed near women, children and old people without anyone batting an eyelid. Sometimes I get a little worried about how trusting folk are of heroes."

"An up and coming hero, doubting his own job."

"Shocking, I know. Alert the tabloids." He poured the hot water and strained out the tea bags, carrying the two mugs back to the coffee table.

"I'll have it front page news by tomorrow." Her electric eyes studied him from under the blanket. Keigo smirked.

"You feeling any better? Can you hold a mug?"

"I…I think so."

"You sure?" He arched an eyebrow. "I really don't want you pouring hot liquid over your transparent skin."

"Oh, you noticed…" she sunk deeper into the blanket.

"That you're an electric type quirk, or that your skin is gorgeous?"

Slowly her hands slipped out from beneath the blanket. Keigo studied them. They weren't shaking as much. "Alright." He passed over a mug before easing himself down on the couch.

"Thanks…thanks for staying…" she whispered.

"I wasn't doing anything," he murmured.

"You weren't on patrol."

He supposed, in a way, every hero was always on patrol—but in terms of being 'switched-on' and 'switched-off' – he'd been in switched-off mode.

"No." He sipped the tea. "No, I wasn't. I'm actually still pretty spooked at how…" He breathed in deeply. "How easily I could have missed you." Keigo dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Just a minute here or there. It feels so weird. How many people do I miss…I wonder…." He stared at the ceiling. "How many…am I not fast enough to save."

"Perhaps I should have told you where the coffee was." She sent him a smile. "If you're this morbid without it."

Keigo held out his hand. "Give me your phone."

"Um. Why…"

"Just hand it over." He clicked his fingers.

She slowly slid out of the blanket fort, placing her mug down and with a shuffle, she pulled out the mobile. She narrowed her glare at him as she handed it over.

"Don't laugh at the background."

"Let me guess, All-Might?"

"No." She squeaked.

"Mirko? That I don't blame you for, she's hot."

For that, he received a rather pathetic thump to the arm as he flipped awake her mobile. Which wasn't password protected, at all. He arched an eyebrow as his own face stared back at him.

"That's the worst picture of me, ever."

"No it's not," she protested. "I liked that jacket."

"My respect for you has diminished considerably, that jacket was awful to fly in." Keigo flipped out his own phone. He propped his knee up to rest on as he added her number, calling her phone. He flung it back into her lap as it buzzed.

"Okay, now you have my number."

"You probably say that to all the girls." She murmured.

"Actually, you're the first to ever get my number, so please don't go passing that around."

She frowned at her phone as if it was suddenly radioactive. "Why?"

"Why don't I want my number out in the wild, or why don't I date?" He set his empty mug down. "Both are pretty self-explanatory."

She shook her head. "No, why share your number with me?"

He glanced out the windows, to the open night sky, and the freedom he did not yet have. "Fate…maybe…" His attention settled back on the woman and her shimmering hair, like silver silk. Moonlight glinting on the ocean's soft waves. Keigo smiled. She was even peaceful to look at.

"If you don't call me, I'll call you." He flipped his phone back and forth. "Don't make me think you've died from an aneurysm or something overnight."

She rolled her electric eyes. "I'll be fine."

"I'm just saying, your track record is currently pretty horrendous. I might have to visit every day just to make sure you're not dead."

Laughter bubbled out of her as she chased him to the alfresco doors. She halted at the threshold, staring at the broken railing with a frightened, fidgeting twitch. Keigo brushed a hand across her cheek. "And please get that railing looked at. Get something a bit stronger."

"Something a giant hawk can perch on." She shot back.

Damn. The wit matched the electric charge she produced. He caught her chin. The pause was so brief, he barely registered the mutual movement of her lifting to meet him as he captured her lips. Her hands fisted into his under armour, and her felt her feet leave the ground once more. He had seconds to halt the momentum, otherwise he was positive neither of them would want too.

His arm caught them against the doorframe as she stumbled backwards.

"Okay, so, I'm going to go before I can't go," he murmured into her neck.

She nodded, her hands slowly releasing his armour. "Thank you…you know…for saving me."

"You're most welcome." He stepped off the balcony. He was halfway home when he realised, he'd never actually gotten her name.

"Ah, fuck." Kiego laughed. "And I left my visor there…and my damned jacket."

Still—

Best evening since—well—forever—

0000

There were some benefits to having a small agency in a city, he'd managed to maintain an extremely good relationship with the police, something a lot of the larger hero agencies tended to not nurture as well as they should have. Several days out of the week he and his sidekicks spent with the police force. This was something he'd insisted on, from the beginning, and it had worked well. His sidekicks partnered up with police patrols they got along with, and he didn't need to worry about them to much—other than their mountains of paperwork.

Always the mountains of paperwork.

Ah, yes, glory to the technocratic bureaucracy that he did so loath.

He even had his own personal handler in the police force, just to annoy while on duty. Dear lovely Lieutenant Tsubame. He was pretty sure that they'd been dumped together for no other reason than her name; the whole thing being an in-joke at the station.

Hawk and Swallow.

Super hilarious.

Sounded like a cop show in the making. Yep. He got the joke.

Tsubame was in her late thirties, though it wasn't really that obvious to be honest. If no one had told him, he'd never have guessed her age. For someone who was quirk-less, she had an annoying inability to slow down. Somehow, amongst all the chaos of an abusive arsehole husband and three children, she hit the gym, maintained a work-life balance that was basically godly, and put up with all his antics. She had faults, and her faults where the very fact that she worked too much, and put the weight of the world on her shoulders and refused to divorce her husband because she deserved him or some shite. Every case she took was personal to her, and that was a major issue. He knew she suffered, her family suffered, from the unbearable stress she put on herself.

It was an unspoken thing in their society, that those who did not have a quirk, had to work harder to earn their place. Not that he really, honestly felt it made a huge difference—he'd seen, first hand, the scrounges of society spitting on the worst of those who had quirks, even quirks like his own, and no one cared—no one helped—

It was all for personal gain.

He had to wonder, did any real heroes exist? He still wanted to be that real hero, that ideal never went away—

Saving people, it saved him.

He sighed as he shuffled into the messy office, booting Tsubame's chair. "Morning."

"Oie, Hawks." She jerked up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "I was just…resting my head."

"Sure, you were, sunshine. Early morning again?"

Stringing a hand through her red hair, she bundled it into a messy bun. "Haia was…um…having trouble last night, so, more like…no morning…"

"Quirk related?" Hawks arched an eyebrow. The kid was around the age of manifestation, but neither Tsu or her husband had quirks, so it was turning out interesting with the kids.

She grimaced.

"To be honest, I'm not sure."

That sounded ominous.

"Need me to come around tonight?"

"No, no, its fine." She waved him away. "You can check on him on Friday.…but…Etio's is still not showing, so, he's still a gloomy ball of gloom."

He winced at that. Etio was thirteen. It was beginning to get late for quirk manifestation, even for someone who didn't have the genetic makers that identified them as quirk-less. It did seem a little odd that his quirk hadn't appeared.

"He'll be fine, Tsu. Remember, he's just all preteen angst right now. Couple more years and I can throw him an internship at the agency."

"He might not have a good quirk."

Good quirk. What a ridiculous phrase he heard tossed around too much these days.

"So?" Hawks shrugged. "Filing my paperwork doesn't take a quirk, but I'll pay someone…anyone…for their goddamn help to mediate my mess."

"Thanks Hawks." She managed a small laugh. "It was a long night. On the plus side, I did stop by that coffee place you basically worship, on my way in."

Tsubame finally turned towards him and he smiled as she startled backwards in her chair. Ah—there it was—the confusion he'd been getting all morning from his slight change in appearance.

"What are you wearing?" she choked.

Gosh. Anyone would think he was All-Might suddenly wearing his silver age costume again the way folk where acting. He glanced down at himself and mockingly held out his hands. "Clothes. I presume. Otherwise, we've got a problem."

"No, I mean…I haven't seen you wear that jacket in…"

"A year or so. I know." He stole the coffee from her and popped open the lid, taking a moment to smell the delightfully dark aroma swirling around within. "I had to dig it out of a box in my wardrobe."

"You finally did it, didn't you, you murdered all your clothes out on patrol. I keep telling you, you fight as if you're not precious to someone. It's horrible to watch."

"Hm. So you keep telling me, but no, that's not what happened." Hawks sat back on her desk, kicking his legs out lazily. "Unlike you, I had a very good night."

Tsubame stared at him blankly before suddenly slapping a file into his face. "I don't need to know about your sex life, Hawks."

"What, fuck off." He slapped the file back at her. "That is not what I…" he paused, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. He held out a finger to Tsubame, halting her as he tugged out his mobile.

Lightbulb.

He grinned. Well—heck—she'd actually called. He'd been waiting until lunch break, like a gentleman, in the vague hope he didn't seem like he was smothering.

"Hey, hey, good morning, no, no I'm not busy, and you're not dead, that's good." He glared down at Tsubame as her grin widened into something mimicking pure, unadulterated glee. If he got up and walked away now, it was basically admitting everything she was picturing in her mind. He flicked her forehead. Tsubame never listened. She always presumed she was right. Whatever it was she was thinking, that was the story she was going to stick with, and nothing he did, or said, would change her mind.

"Are you sure you're fine?" He frowned, and at the concern in his tone, Tsubame's brow creased. "Did you take anything for the pain. Listen, I came at you at a really hard angle, so you're going to be sore. Yes, take something." A niggle of worry wormed its way up his spine. Lightbulb shouldn't have been in that much pain. "I can take you in for a scan after I clock off." He glanced at his watch. Hours—that was hours away. "True…yeah…true…alright, alright, if you're sure. I'll take your word for it. No, no, don't worry about my stuff, I've got spares of things. What? You've been that worried? Oh, babe. No. I'm sorry. I'll pick them up. Is seven thirty alright? Yeah? Neat. I'll bring dinner. Okay. See you then."

Tucking his phone away he ignored Tsudame, reaching for a file on the desk. She grabbed it, holding it hostage.

"Oh, no, no. What was all that?" She pointed at him. "Spill, now."

"No idea what you're talking about." He snatched for the file. "Give me our work. I want to get this day over and done with."

"Not until you tell me what that was. Hawks, I have known you since you where sixteen—"

He slammed a foot against her chair, upturning her and snatching the files before they fluttered away. "You said it yourself, Lieutenant, you don't need to know about my sex life." He grinned down at her, offering a hand. "Come on, let's go sort out these domestic calls."

"I am bothering you about this, all day." She protested as she snatched up her hat, following him out into the bustling corridor of the police station.

Hawks smiled. "You'll never get it from me."

"Oh, we'll see about that." Tsubame huffed. "I haven't gone Mum mode on you yet."

She existed in Mum mode, and that, frankly, had been the eternal problem of their entire working relationship—she never, actually, listened.

0000

There was a particular little ramen restaurant, tucked away on a side-street of one of the busy, bustling shopping districts. It was a known local hangout of anyone who was quirk-less, and therefore, had become a weirdly sociable place for the police force and other departmental agencies.

It was rumoured that the little ramen shop, like Fukuoka Tower, was an ancient structure from Before Quirks, having survived several of the Upheavals. Of course, this had never actually been proven, but it added to the whole mystic and vibe of the place.

Hawks felt awkwardly out of place, which always amused him, as he gathered a considerable amount of his best intel in places like the little ramen shop. Interestingly enough, unbeknown to much of society, their bureaucracy and regime was run by the quirk-less. Even his handlers, the Hero Public Safety Commission, was chaired mainly by a board of quirk-less members.

He'd been told it was supposed to even out the power and privilege disparity, to which he'd called bullshite. Not to their faces—no—he'd tucked in his wings and obeyed, like a good little boy.

He'd learn, wait, listen. Patience was his ally. He was a predator, after all, and information was all around him. The air was alive with the most interesting murmurings and chattering. The wind tasted of change. What kind of change, he'd not quite settled on yet, but he thrived off rumours.

"I see Kai is refusing to leave you alone again."

Tsubame slid into her seat at their little booth, tucked away in the furthest corner of the shop where his wings could rest comfortably against the wall. Hawks smiled at the owners four-year-old son sitting at his feet. Kai was enthralled by heroes, typical for someone of his age.

"I'm popular, no matter the age bracket." Hawks plucked a feather. He winced as he snapped off the receiver at the end, deadening the nerves entirely. Sticking it in his mouth, he sucked out the blood before handing it down to Kai.

"Our secret, yeah?" He ruffled the boys mop of hair.

Kai beamed and dashed away into the kitchen.

"Hawks!" Tsubame hissed.

"What? It's just a feather. They grow back."

"No. You did that horrifying thing again, you killed it."

He stared at her and deliberately reached for another feather.

"Hawks. Don't."

He plucked it, snapped the receiver and stuck it in his mouth. Then he flicked it at her. She flinched, seemingly expecting it to piece the wall behind her, instead, it fluttered down onto the table in a lifeless state.

"They're weapons, Tsubame. I'm not going to give a weapon to a kid unless it's disarmed. If I don't kill the nerves, it's still connected to the swarm, and then it's a problem."

"I appreciate that, Hawks." Two steaming bowls of ramen were slid in front of them. Hawks raised a hand in greeting to Jirou, the owner and cook of the small shop. He was a well-built man, much larger than Hawks's slender frame and therefore, pretty intimidating upon first approach.

He was quirk-less, which may have been why he put such an emphasis on his physical stature, despite being a very fine cook. Hawks knew he was tolerated by the more frustrated class of quirk-less in Fukuoka, simply because he'd made a point to relate to them through the growing underbellies in their fractured society. Jirou was somewhat of a pillar in the quirk-less community, considering his shop was a bit of a mythological hangout. Being one of the few Pro Heroes that had a welcome whenever-invite was an actual privilege he did not take lightly. He'd have been loathed to lose one of his information gathering hubs after all.

"You wouldn't hand a loaded gun to a kid for them to play with, back in the Before Era." Hawks shrugged. "Same principle."

"If only others thought like you." Jirou grumbled. "Maybe we'd have fewer kids out on the streets mucking about with their quirks."

"Sorry Jirou, delinquents are going to be delinquents, quirk, or no quirk. Don't think that changes, whatever era." Hawks shrugged, pulling his ramen bowl closer. "How's Kai's quirk going?"

Jirou heaved a sigh. "He's not said a damn word since his mother walked out on us. Gods, I donno what to do with a brat that can make leaves grow." Jirou massaged his temple. "On the plus side, our community garden is spectacular this year." He gave a warm chuckle. "Anyway, enjoy your meal. Lieutenant, Hero."

Hawks watched the man head back behind his counter to take another order. Kai's quirk was a spectacular one, and it was tucked away here, unknown, in a community that actively discouraged quirk use. Sure, people had quirks, but the use of them was frowned upon. He really wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about the whole thing, or what he was supposed to do about it as a Pro Hero.

Tsubame picked up the lifeless feather on the table, twirling it back and forth with a depressed pout. "Something so beautiful shouldn't be a weapon."

He snorted. "Well, maybe you shouldn't be a cop."

Tsubame kicked him lightly under the table. "Did you just call me beautiful. That's sweet, Hawks, but I really can't deal with the tabloids painting us as a scandalous couple again."

He rolled his eyes. "You mean Osamu can't deal with it."

"Ah, you're still holding that grudge."

"Tsu, your husband was a dick to me, and I was…what…sixteen, seventeen? I don't know if I'm more insulted for you that he'd assume you'd do that, or for me. Still sitting on the fence about it. But he is a major arsehole."

"Funny, he thinks the same about you." Tsubame puffed back her hair. "I just think you both got off on the wrong footing."

"No, he's a xenophobic dick. When, not if, when, you decide to divorce him—for the sake of the boys and their quirks—you know I'll always have your back, right?"

"I know, but I want to at least try and make something in my life work."

He thumped his head back. Setting his chopsticks aside. "As depressing as that is, I get it."

Tsubame paused from eating. "Is this about the girl you totally didn't bang last night."

Hawks breathed in deeply. "Yes, it is."

Tsubame sipped her drink. "Do you think you hurt her."

Hawks thumped his head on the table, groaning. "I hate you."

"I'm glad we can have these types of conversations, Hawks. It really does show a level of trust and respect."

"I loathe you," he grumbled.

"Alright, so, what'd you do?" Tsubame cocked her head, changing her teasing tone. "Random flings aren't your style. You never meet fangirls, cause, let's be honest, they're mostly underage."

Hawks winced. That was one of the fundamental reasons he avoided all media. Wasn't because he was a spy. Wasn't because of his handlers. It was because the media just adored sniffing out untruths. Sometimes it terrified him more than confronting some grotesque villain; the tales that could be spun, and the ruin a mere suggestion or rumour could bring.

"That's not the problem, is it?" Tsubame asked, her chopsticks going limp. "A girl hasn't gotten you into trouble. Oh, gosh, no…I knew it…I knew it'd happen! You're just too innocent. Everyone told me to keep a better eye on you. This is my fault."

Oh, whoops. He'd taken too long to answer. The poor woman looked frantic.

"No." He laughed. "Come on, Tsu, you know me better than that, but I do appreciate the concern, and for not immediately blaming me."

She blew a snort. "Oh, please, I was a teenage girl once. We're horrible, vindictive little things until we age out."

"Oh, you actually age out of that?"

His leg was kicked again. Slowly her tense shoulders relaxed. Ah—she'd been really worried. That was sweet. It was nice, to at least have one person in the world that worried in such a fashion for his mental health.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I'm the younger one, judging by last night."

And she tensed back up again.

He grinned. "Haha, your face. Damn, I needed a photo of that."

She kicked him under the table, putting considerably more thrust into it this time. "Hawks! If you want my advice, just tell me what the problem is."

He dropped his head back, folding his hands over his face. "Alright, fine…but this stays under our confidentiality agreement, yeah."

"Always, Hawks. Always."

"It was an off-duty fast paced, mid-air catch." He slumped forward. "I can't stop replaying it over and over in my mind. Did I throttle fast enough, counter the g-force, I don't know…" He twisted his hands through his hair. "So many things can go wrong…but when its instinctual…it just happens and I…" He gave a frustrated groan.

"Oh…Hawks…" Tsubame reached across the table, squeezing his hand. From the look she gave him, he knew she did not believe him, but she was going to humour him. "It's because it's so instinctual that it'll be fine."

"But I just don't know."

"And you hate not knowing things." Tsubame nodded. "Well, my only advice is to find out. It is what you do best. It is the only reason why we keep you around, I mean, you're useless at basically everything else."

"Ah, I see, just a pretty face, am I."

"I seem to recall it was you who called yourself a narrow shouldered man, unfit for leadership."

"Heh, still an accurate descriptor." He shrugged.

Tsubame shook her head. "I wish you could see yourself how others see you, Hawks…but…the more I work with heroes…the more I'm starting to wonder if all heroes have a self-identity issue. You all never quite feel like you've done enough, or like you deserve your abilities, or you seem as though you need to earn your place…it's so…odd…"

No, what was odd was how she was basically describing herself, and well, everyone—right—

He sunk back against his wings. "That's an interesting observation."

Tsubame flapped a hand about. "Anyway, it sounds like you need to chase up getting your late-night encounter looked at, just for your own peace of mind."

"Wow…I loved the added quotation marks, they added an extra flare, thanks." Hawks rolled his eyes at her dramatic tone. He closed his eyes, resting his head back. Lightbulb would probably object, she had on the phone that morning, but, he couldn't get rid of the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. It had never led him wrong before, that instinct that something just wasn't quite right.

The question was, just where could he go to get a private scan. It was terrifying how easily secrets got out, and he wanted to keep this one for as long as he could. It wasn't just the media he had to avoid, but his handlers. He had to at least have figured out his head space, before he could figure out how to out-manoeuvre a bloodsucking organisation, hellbent on ruling his entire life. Tsubame had a confidentiality agreement, as well as years of friendship—that and she thought the whole thing was mostly a joke. She'd forget about it under her workload and family stresses soon enough.

He tapped his leg under the table.

Confidentiality agreements—

Ah—

Oh—that was perfect—

His eyes snapped open. Tsubame was smiling at him. "I know that look, you connected dots."

"Several."

"See, it helps to talk things out with a friend, was that so bad."

"Torture, no, actually, worse than torture."

"Don't be so dramatic—"

It took all Hawks' willpower not to immediately bolt up and pepper the sulphur smelling man, who burst through the shop's doors, in a rain of bladed feathers. It took Tsubame grabbing his arm to halt him again when the villain snatched up little Kai by the neck. The ramen shop plunged into a tableau. Behind his counter, Jirou slowly lowered his steaming wok, studying the villain with a level of revolted disgust.

Hawks' stomach twisted. It was the same look Tsubame's husband had once given him; absolute revulsion and hatred for a quirk-user. He'd never forget it, because sometimes, he caught it from high-end officials in the Heroes Public Safety Commission.

"You have got to be the biggest idiot in all of Fukuoka." Jirou commented with a drawl of sarcasm, completely unphased that his son was in any danger.

"Yeah? And how'd you figure that? Cause the way I see it, I got myself a bunch of quirk-less cops as hostages." Corrosive heat sizzled across the floor as the villain lumbered forward, clutching Kai's neck tighter.

"Because everyone knows this is where the Wing Hero gets lunch, every Thursday. My daughter has an Instagram account. I only serve cops, or those on a waiting list. Now put my son down, get out, or I'll let our pet Hero loose."

The villain released a gaseous cloud from large, pore-like holes across his back. Sometimes, Hawks felt the random lotto of quirks was bitterly unfair. He'd argued that things needed to be done to even out the obvious disparity in their society, to give those with more unpleasant quirks better lives.

But it was like yelling at a brick wall—talking to bureaucrats without quirks.

They could walk through fucking doorways without a problem, and always looked at him with contempt when he stood there, unable to enter a room because, yeah, big wings, bird man, haha. So funny.

Tsubame's grip tightened on his arm.

Whoops. She'd noticed his darkening expression. He shook his head, indicating he wouldn't do anything, not until Jirou pulled the hypothetical trigger.

The villain held Kai out. "I want ten thousand, in cash, and an escort out of the city. I'll let the boy go once I'm gone."

Probably to find a community out in the sticks, that'd be more welcoming of his quirk. Hawks had heard rumours about them, but he'd yet to be called out to investigate them, and he doubted he'd manage it, considering his popularity.

The villain waved Kai at Jirou, and the boy whimpered. Hawks's nails dug into the wooden table at the scent of cooking flesh. Finally, Jirou glanced his way, giving a small nod.

Hawks didn't bother standing. "Drop the boy."

The villain seemed to finally notice him in the back corner. He was so sure he made an imposing figure, sitting there, his wings primed and vibrating, and yet, he received a chortled a laugh in mockery. "Seriously. He can't do anything in this tight space. It's like you've all been asked to get ambushed."

Hawks arched an eyebrow at the leer sent his way. Ah, yes—this was a reminder as to why everyone thought he was useless indoors—because no one he'd ever fought indoors had survived. He'd never been officially handed the title assassin, like his predecessor, but he'd always been fully aware that's what they'd wanted him to be, and thus, he'd rebelled.

But that didn't mean he hadn't learnt the art.

"One." Hawks held up a hand, curling down a finger. "Two."

"Put the kid down, villain." A policeman spoke up from a booth, leaning around casually. "He's not joking around. He has a one touch rule with kids."

"Yeah…" one of Tsubame's underlings joined in. "Sorry, you were basically fucked the moment you touched the kid. Hawks is really iffy about kids. It's why he's in our division. Oh boy, you should see him rip into a child molester. Ever wanted to know what a human-sized pin-cushion looks like? Well, now I know."

"Three." Hawks folded down another finger.

The villain glanced around the shop. "What, none of you quirk-less freaks are going to do anything?"

"Why?" A female cop asked. "You're not worth our time."

"Four."

"I'll kill the boy!"

"For what reason? It'll gain you nothing." That was one of the older detectives.

The villain was about to answer.

"Five." A feather pieced through the villain's skull. He slumped to the floor. Kai squeaked as he was caught by several feathers that suddenly bunched up around him, hiding him from the grisly sight and depositing him safely into Jirou's arms.

"Well." Hawks sighed at his almost-finished lunch. "That utterly ruined a good meal."

Tsubame groaned into her hands. "Did you have to kill him."

"Less paperwork." That quip received murmurs of agreement from all around, much to Tsubame's protests at her colleagues.

00000

Keigo wasn't sure if the day had crawled past at a snail's pace because he was anticipating the evening, because he'd never actually anticipated an evening before. He'd stopped off at the agency, spent an hour labouring over the loathsome computer to answer a backlog of emails and by then, he'd really felt twitchy. There was nothing he hated more than staring at a computer screen, when he could have been flying. He barely tolerated television these days. Damn, everything felt so slow.

The twitchy feeling was made worse when he dropped by the old convenience store that he hadn't stopped by the night before. Standing at the door, he stared into the glowing lights of the interior, blinking at the odd sensation prickling down his spine.

What if—

What if he had stopped here yesterday—

What if she had fallen off that balcony—

His throat constricted and he dragged a trembling hand through his hair. Tucking his wings as tight as he could manage them, he ducked through the sliding doors, listening to the chime of the doorbell.

Old-man Lou looked up from behind the counter, a warm smile breaking across his sun-wrinkled face.

"Hawks, how are you?"

"I'm doing well, Lou." Keigo squeezed down an aisle. "How's the arthritis treating you?"

"Hmp…" the elderly gentle shuffled about behind the counter. "I am looking forward to the warmer months. These chilly evenings make the bones ache."

Selecting two meals, and drinks, Keigo approached the counter. "The weather will turn soon enough." He paused. "You don't happen to know any good spots to see the cherry blossoms in Fukuoka? Do we even have a festival…I've never even thought about it." He thumped back on the counter. "Don't think I've even attended a spring festival."

He'd never had the time—or was it more that he'd never been allowed. Oh, that was depressing either way.

Lou sighed gruffly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He shuffled towards a stack of pamphlets, pulling one out and handing it over.

"You need to take a holiday, Hawks. You make an old man worry."

Keigo smiled at the pamphlet on Fukuoka's sights. Naturally, one was his favourite perching spot, the Fukuoka Tower, a landmark that had survived several upheavals since the emergence of quirks.

"Thanks, Lou."

Lou grunted in acknowledgement as he scanned the items.

"Oh," Keigo slid the pamphlet away. "Can I have two sweet rolls tonight."

He received a brushy, raised eyebrow of inquiry. Slowly Keigo lifted a finger to his lips, and Lou began to chuckle knowingly.

"To be young again." The old man bundled up his food in a paper bag, handing it to him. Keigo tapped his phone on the counter, listening for the ding of the payment system.

"Thanks Lou. See you next time." He squeezed his way back out into the cool evening. Taking a quick glance around the street, making sure it was empty, and therefore he wouldn't risk blasting anyone away, Keigo bolted into the sky. It always felt nice, the moment his feet left the ground, and the air hit his wings. He was reminded immediately that he belonged in the air.

His old, spare visor wasn't as up-to-date as the one he'd left on Lightbulb's kitchen counter. It didn't have the ability to relay real-time data of inconvenient drones or other quirk users, hell, the police radio wasn't even patched into it.

It was actually kind of nice, to just fly solo through the city, navigating only by the vibrations of his wings. Maybe he needed to turn off the technology more often, maybe he'd gotten to reliant on gear, and less trusting of his own senses.

He eased into a slower pace as he rounded into Lightbulb's apartment blocks. Keigo hovered above the tall buildings. It looked like a nice estate, with parks between each block, and even playgrounds and a whole skatepark where several teens were hanging out under the bright lights that illumed everything.

Alright—

That's what it was—

The lights.

There were a lot more lights in the whole area than he was used to seeing at night.

"Odd, but, okay…newer area I suppose."

Villans were constantly destroying things here and there, so, the city was ever changing like a patchwork quilt. It was completely possible he'd been here before, but it was a whole new development.

Now he had to remember which apartment complex Lightbulb was in. He flicked his gaze across each one, and immediately homed in on the broken balcony. His skin crawled. Looking at it now, with his mind so much clearer, he honestly couldn't believe he'd made it.

"I was so far away. Wish I knew how fast I clocked in. I could have broken my own record." He grinned at the thought as he glided to the balcony, landing in a graceful tap. The alfresco doors were wide open. Illegal—highly illegal—considering she didn't have any barrier on the balcony now—but he presumed she'd probably left it open as a welcome in sign.

Still, nothing moved inside the glass and concreate penthouse, just the soft, eerie arura lights dancing on the grey, industrial walls and gently swaying fabrics strung from the ceiling.

He poked his head in.

"Hey yo."

From somewhere—seemingly all around—a light began to slowly brighten the studio apartment, just enough to chase away the shadows. He stepped in, sliding off his boots and tucking them beside the door.

"I've got dinner."

"Thanks." A soft voice spoke up from behind a sheer curtain that broke the apartment in two, hiding away the bed and control desk section. "I'm surprisingly hungry. Work's been exhausting today."

"Oh, really. You too, heh. Wow, this relationship is going to suck if neither of us feels inclined to cook."

"Yep. It will."

Keigo laughed. He set the paper-bag on the kitchen counter, noticing his visor was right where he'd left it, and his jacket hung on a rack by the door. Just, casually, hanging there, like it always had been there. A warm tickle fluffed the tips of his wings and he smiled. She hadn't rebuffed his totally not an open-ended joke about their weird whirlwind meeting. That was a positive.

"Right…" He crouched behind the counter. "I'm pretty sure I know where the plates are…"

"Left cupboard."

"Thanks." He fished out two bowls, standing once more, and he halted. The bowls clattered against the countertop.

"Oh. Wow. Okay."

The curtain had pulled back. Lightbulb was slowly standing, moving away from the control desk, as a mechanical chair sunk into the floor. Her movements were agonizingly stiff and painful, and he wasn't sure if it was from the fall and catch the night prior, or from the hideously terrifying wires draping down from the ceiling and plugged into her limbs.

"Sorry…" she hesitated. "This must be a little alarming to see."

Alarming—yes—but it was more like witnessing something from a horror film. Was he was supposed to slice her free, or just stand there in astonishment.

"Are you…alright?" He paused in his approach, his wings reacting to the electrical charge in the air around her. Beneath her skin a gentle, pulsing glow coiled its way through intersecting lines, disconcertingly similar to veins, or deep tattoos, visible only in the darkness. Each pictographic line seemed to converge at the dangling wires hanging from the ceiling, pieced into her flesh along her spine, arms and legs.

She sluggishly began to move. The wires attached to her glided with all the grace of tentacles in an ocean, but the junctions where they were attached to her translucent skin looked unbearably painful and inflamed.

"I'm fine." She rubbed her hands together in a twitching motion that told him she really wasn't. "I'd hoped to have finished work before you arrived, but…um…with the changing weather, I'm needed later in the evenings to take the load when folk arrive home. Lots of electricity gets used during peak hours, so, I get called up."

He blinked. What? What the hell was she talking about.

She smiled, tucking her glittering hair behind an ear. "Can't figure it out." She almost giggled at his slack, confused look.

"No."

Her gaze lingered on the city lights outside. "I'm Fukuoka's Powerplant. All those lights, are mine."

She said the words with such wistfulness, as if, at any moment, she might blink out of existence, along with all the glittering lights of the city. Wait…why was she crying?

He darted forward, ignoring all warnings from his wings telling him not to approach what amounted to a tightly contained lightning-storm. He caught her as her knees gave out.

"Whoops." He chuckled at his arms tangled amongst the wires. "Um, please assure me I'm not about to be fried to death."

"I only like cooked chicken," she quipped.

"Haha, funny." He lifted her carefully onto the couch, watching the wires curiously bob about like weightless joints. It was creepy. Yep. It he was going to call it creepy, and he did not like it, and he didn't like them being anywhere near her. It looked too much like something sinister was literally draining out a lifeforce.

How was this legal?

"Right." He squeezed her knees. "You're hungry, so, food."

She started to stand.

"No, I've got it." He pointed her back down.

"But you're in my house…" she pouted.

"So?" Keigo shrugged.

"I should…you know…be a host."

"Do I look like I care?" He flung open his arms. "Fact is, it's nice, not caring. I bet I could say whatever I wanted in front of you, and I'd get away with it."

She rolled her eyes. "Within reason."

"But I could still be myself, right?"

"I would hope you'd only ever be yourself." She peered over the edge of the couch. "Otherwise, who is the man who caught me?"

"A stunningly handsome jackass."

He carried over the bowls of rice and chicken, as well as the soda cans.

"So you kind of struck me as a raspberry girl. Did I pick right?" He held out the sweet drink.

"Oh, yeah, you did." She buzzed with sudden delight. "Thank you."

Sometimes, it was the simplest gestures. He really did like his ability to read people well and make the most random of observations.

Keigo handed over the bowl of rice and chicken.

"Sorry, I just ended up getting something really mundane, though, apparently you do like your chicken."

She laughed. "Oh, no, no. Thank you. This is heaps better than my usual cereal."

He paused from sitting beside her. "Okay. Wow. I didn't think my life of sad empty ramen cups could get any more pathetic, but you just smashed that out the window."

"You are a jackass."

"Were you expecting anything else from this handsome face."

"Less of a jackass."

"Nope, sorry, and now you're stuck with me." He slumped back on her couch, groaning as it took his weight. It felt good, being off his feet. He'd walked far too much today.

She pointed a chopstick at the still open alfresco doors, and the dreaded balcony beyond it. "I was contemplating putting a little bird seed feeder out on the balcony, but that'll just encourage you, won't it?"

He choked on his mouthful of soda.

She smirked. "I can be a jackass too."

"I dare you to actually put it out there." He bent closer.

"Oh…you dare me."

"I dare you."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"I'll make it cute, and adorable, and all Hawks themed."

"You're insufferable, and I love it." He chuckled, picking his bowl back up.

"What did your day entail?" She asked. "I mean, I presume you can talk about it, it's not like…a secret or anything…is it?"

Sometimes—sometimes it would be—and he wasn't entirely sure what he'd say about that—but that was some other day's problem.

"No, no secret. So…it was Thursday, and my agency coordinates with the Fukuoka's police on Thursdays, Friday and Saturdays…sometimes Sunday…depending on seasons and my sidekicks being lazy or not."

He took a few mouthfuls, pondering how he was even supposed to explain what it was he did. It wasn't something he'd ever really done before, explain his job to a layperson. "I work with a special division that mainly deals in child neglect cases, or domestic abuse. It can be both very rewarding and…extremely exhausting…today was just…extra…weird…lunch was ruined by a random guy trying to extort a situation. Anyway…as easy as I find killing is…it's never…good."

He sunk lower into the couch.

"Well, you are a hero."

"I wonder that, sometimes." Some days were better than others. Some days stirred up old memories better left forgotten, but those memories where the whole reason he forced himself to be the hero he was.

A hand rested on his jittering knee. "You can rest," she offered. "I promise, this is the one place in all Fukuoka that no one will ever see you slow down and close your eyes."

Keigo dropped his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes. He tucked a wing around himself. "Thanks," he murmured.

He couldn't have been asleep for too long, but it was long enough for Lightbulb to end up bundled beneath his wing, despite the awkward alignment of the wires still attached to her. They would have remained like that, if he hadn't of stirred from the low hum in the background beginning to dissipate. His ears rung uncomfortably as he realised there was now an absence of noise.

Lightbulb gradually came awake, unfurling herself, wincing as she touched her neck. Wires jangled awkwardly around her.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Base load is back on." She staggered to her feet, reaching for the largest wire attached to the nape of her neck.

He had a visceral reaction of panic as she twisted and yanked what amounted to a horrifyingly long needle, free of the slot in her neck junction. Like some monstrous snake, the wire slinked off into the ceiling, dripping blood.

He'd seen things.

He'd killed people.

And he was about to murder someone for suggesting whatever this was, was a viable idea.

She reached for the next plug, making a move to rip it out.

"Holy smokes. Nope. Nope." He grabbed her hands. "You are ripping those out without any consideration to what it looks like from this angle."

"Well…it hurts. Best to rip off the band aid as fast as possible, right?" She shrugged, jiggling the wires.

Keigo nursed his head. Right, yes, because that made complete sense. "Let me try."

"Suit yourself, Mr. Hero. It's going to hurt either way."

"You ever had anyone around to try and help?" He headed back to the kitchen.

"Well…no…"

"Right, so, you don't know, do you?"

"True." Lightbulb watched him at the kitchen bench. "What are you doing?"

"Washing my hands. I don't want to cause an infection."

She slowly looked down at her own hands. "I'd never thought about that."

"Well, this place seems pretty sterile, but I've been out in the world, rolling around and getting all icky." He walked back around her, facing the terrifying assortment of wires. This really did look like something that some diabolical villain would cook up.

"Don't worry, you won't get electrocuted." She tipped her head back, looking up at him, her blue eyes like starlit orbs.

He tapped her nose. "Oh good. Really don't feel like getting fried up for your platter. So, do I twist clockwise, or counterclockwise."

"Clockwise."

"Right."

He braced her with a knee and gently twisted loose each corresponding wire. Alright, he kind of understood why she was yanking them hard; they fought a bit to be released and she was reaching at them from behind, it couldn't have been an easy angle. Thirteen in total, fourteen, if he included the one she'd ripped out like a masochist. Each individual wire retracted back into the ceiling as though some monster was up there.

"All done." Keigo clenched his trembling hands.

"It didn't hurt as much," she murmured. "Thank you." That breath was one of relief. How long had she been doing that alone.

"See." He brushed her silvery hair aside, taking a moment to study the deep bruising that was beginning to show across her back and shoulders. "You just need to be a little bit gentler with yourself."

The bruising was consistent with injuries he'd dealt people earlier on in his career before he'd really learnt how to throttle his stops and absorb the impact damage himself. His fingers traced the now visible plugs down her backbone, meeting at each junction of the glittering vectors of energy beneath her translucent skin. They were actual sockets, similar to those in walls. Surgically infused into her quirk. It was—there was an old word for this—inhumane.

"These don't look natural…" he whispered.

"No. They're not." She rubbed at one on the back of her arm. "You have a good eye. Most people presume it's part of my quirk."

"No…" he held up his hands, revealing the blood on them. "See, this is your body rejecting a mod-hancer."

"A mod-hancer?" She asked.

"Short for modification enhancer. There is an entire industry built around the enhancement of quirks, both legal and black market. I tend to see the worse cases, as there are parents out there who desperately want their kids to be something, or someone…" he sighed. "We call it quirk abuse."

"That's awful."

Yeah. It was. It was also what had been done to her.

"Of course, I've seen it happen when villains, or even Pro Heroes, try and integrate gear and it gets rebuffed as well. So, it can happen to anyone."

"Well, it's part and parcel of my life, so, nothing can really be done about it." She pulled a huge hoodie over her head, hiding the bleeding plugs away. "They were installed when I was a little girl. I get them upgraded for the larger outputs, but the world just seems more and more power hungry." Slowly she sunk back on the couch. "Or at least, my bosses are. I suppose I haven't really seen that much of the world to judge it."

Keigo stood beside her, feeling numb.

"I'm sorry. This…I shouldn't have…thrown this at you…no one is supposed to even know I exist." She scrubbed at her hair in frustration. "You should be blissfully unaware, like everyone else."

Blissfully unaware? Unaware of quirk abuse?

"Why?" He jerked his attention to her suddenly.

She looked back across the cityscape. "I…I don't really know. That's how it has always been for us. I suppose it's about money, and power, and maybe about keeping peace and order." She frowned. "I had to hunt for the information secretly, in those old libraries, but I learnt that before quirks existed, there was this global push to find energy sources that wouldn't damage the planet, but would also be economically sustainable…" She held out her hands, twisting them back and forth and he watched as the colours behind her skin coiled about. "Apparently it led to wealth disparity, and an energy crisis and global powers fought endlessly without ever coming up with solutions."

Oh—

Oh no—

Oh, he did not like where this was going—

She lifted the soda drink to her lips, taking a small sip. The glint of her eyes reflected on the aluminium can.

"Did you know the first quirk was an electric type?" She glanced up at him.

"The glowing baby." He reached out, brushing his fingers across her cheeks. "I suppose everyone has heard the story...legend more so now…"

History—told and retold—honestly, he could barely believe there was such a thing as a time before quirks, that in of itself, seemed wholly insurmountable. Who—what—would he be without his quirk?

"The birth of electric quirks opened wide a door of possibilities. It…it wasn't a good…time to be born…with an electric quirk."

He swallowed. As rosy as the history books painted that era, he'd never thought it would have been as flowery as it was made out to be.

"I'm unclear on the details. Of how it all began, and why we've been kept a secret…and why the general population are led to believe the world is still run entirely on an old-world electrical grid, but…" she spread her hands wide. "Here we are, the Powerplants, a secret, underground network of powerful electric quirk users who fuel the nation. I don't even know how we're run, or how many of us there are…I have always lived in this powerplant, watching the world change around me." She shrugged. "

"Why do I get the feeling you do it under duress?"

She waved a hand about flippantly. "Duress is a bit of a stretch. It's more…the only life I know, and it does pay well." She beamed. "I get to buy all the hero merch I want."

Keigo wanted to smile. Hero merch. Because somewhere, deep down inside, she wanted to be saved. It may have been the only life she'd known, but she was cluey enough to understand it wasn't a life. He wanted to smile, but he could only slump down on the coffee table in defeat.

"I'm sorry…"

"No." He took her hands. "Gods, no. Stop." Thumping a foot down on either side of her, he arched his stiff wings, drawing them down until they were both cocooned away, and it was only her ebbing glow that lit the small tented interior. Keigo lifted her fingers to his lips, kissing each one individually.

"I kinda have some experience with overlording governmental agencies myself." He sighed, dropping his head to one side. "But I do feel somewhat disparaged. With such experience, I perhaps should have suspected, or even known, there was more going on behind the curtain. Ah, well, so we live in a kafkaesque nightmare of bureaucracy owning us both. Go figure." He tried to keep his tone calm, to hide the tense frustration coiling up inside him.

Cages.

Always with the cages.

"Do you mean that literally, or figuratively. Cause, I did kind of spring that curtain reveal on you just for kicks."

He chuckled, leaning in closer. "You're so evil."

"You're the one who stepped into my tower, Mr. Hero."

"Nah, ah, you fell off a balcony." He poked her nose, grinning at the way light danced across her skin with each touch.

"Well, you caught me."

"I did." Keigo stood in a fluid movement. "Speaking of which, how is your neck feeling?"

She rubbed her neck. "It's fine."

With a small updraft, Keigo floated over the couch, landing on the other side. He bent over her, his hands landing on her shoulders as he whispered into her ear. "See, I actually don't believe you."

"I—"

He touched a finger to her lips. "Which is why I booked us into a scan tomorrow, just to check."

She flopped onto the couch. "You're going to be insufferable about this, aren't you?"

"Unbearably so." He leant over the couch, grinning down at her.

"I not allowed to leave the powerplant for more than hour, so, um, will it take longer than an hour?"

An hour, seriously. She was stuck in this studio apartment like some battery and was only allowed out for an hour. He had a whole new avenue of quirk abuse to investigate, and he hadn't even figured out how to disentangle the nightmare that was the Heroes Public Safety Commission.

Keigo slumped down over the back of the couch.

"Who do you work for?" he paused. "No. Actually, wrong question. Who did this to you?"

Her voice was muffled from the pillow over her face. "The Bureau of Energy and Infrastructure."

He flicked his phone out, typing a text idly. "I'll get my bosses to talk to your bosses. Bureaucrats always seem to know how to talk the same language."

She suddenly grabbed his hands. "No. No. They cannot know about…whatever…this is. If they find out…"

She was trembling. Fear. She was horrifically afraid of whoever owned her. It was like looking at a reflection of himself, if he ever allowed himself to fall into the terror of what had been done to him. His handlers had absolutely no right to know about anything he did, especially not before he figured it all out himself, and came up with plans, and contingency plans, until they no longer had a hold over him or anyone around him.

Still, while they had his wings clipped, they were useful—and anything useful—was to be used. They'd taught him that.

"They won't. I promise you." He kissed her fingers. "Hey, I've got my own reasons for avoiding arsehole bosses too. But this is important…I really don't think you realise how fast I was going yesterday, and you are a very breakable lightbulb."

"Then, are you okay?" She was suddenly standing on the couch, her hands worriedly on his shoulders.

Wow. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him with that much worry and concern all bundled up in their gaze. It was worth more than all the praise, and thank yous, and fan-attention. A single question, and a raw, honest look of concern.

In a spontaneous movement, he swept her up. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"What, no, no. I…I can't leave…I might need to plug back in."

"I can get you back here pronto." He headed for the balcony. "But right now, the sky is calling."

"The sky?" She whispered, gazing out across the ocean of glittering lights.

"Yep, that city you love so much, all those lights you look out on, let's dive right into it."

Her chest swelled and he felt her grip on his arm tighten. Yep. He was right, she wanted to touch the lights she powered, not just gaze out upon them.

"Here, put this on." Keigo fitted the visor he'd left on the kitchen counter the evening prior over her head, tightening the strap. He flipped his own down before hooking her up into his arms.

"Right, hold on." He stepped off the ledge she'd fallen from and glided seamlessly into the night streets. He expected her to immediately panic at being airborne, like most people. It wasn't a natural thing, after all, for someone who didn't have a flight capable quirk, to be in the air.

And she'd had a rather terrible experience the evening prior.

Instead, he heard laughter and looked down, catching the pure look of joy as she clung to him. Over the headphones in his visor, he caught her voice.

"This is incredible, I can't believe you get to do this all the time!"

He grinned, replying. "It doesn't get old."

A destination in mind, he winged out across the city, letting her soak in the twinkling lights and the way they formed rivers in the night. Ahead, the ocean was like a velvet, inky blanket. He eased into his decent, tucking her closer to his chest as he landed in the sand.

Her arms around his neck loosened.

"Is this…the beach?" her voice crackled through the intercom. He carefully removed the visor, freeing her silvery hair.

"Yep. It is."

Awe made her shiver. Still clinging to him, she tentatively stretched out a bare foot, touching the sand. She gasped.

"Oh! I've…I've never touched sand before."

"I had a feeling that was the case."

Her laughter as she buried her feet into the sand made his chest ache. She bounced up and down, grinning.

"It's so soft!"

He removed his boots and jacket, setting them aside with the visors. She hoisted off her hoodie, and he forced himself not to wince at the blood staining her skin. Instead, he swept her over his shoulder and dashed for the rippling water.

She dropped down beside him in the shallows. The water lit up as her shimmering skin refracted through it.

"Wow," he clasped her hand. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you." She smiled, dipping her head and letting her hair fall over her face.

He laughed, squeezing her hand as they walked through the shoals. "Well, at least you don't reject a compliment."

She lazily splashed water back and forth with a foot. "You have this persona in public of being really easy-going, sometimes it borders on rude, or dismissive. People could misjudge the fact that you don't react in really horrendous situations as you being unempathetic."

"Ah, yeah, true. I do get that criticism."

"But you do it to cover up the fact that you always watching everything, and everyone, with a cynical and cautious eye. You're vigilant, and untrusting, even of people you'd probably consider friends."

Keigo smirked.

"Which is why," she looked up, brushing aside her hair. "A compliment from you, actually means something. It's when you're being honest."

"Well, aren't you both gorgeous and terrifyingly accurate in your psych eval."

"Nah, I just read way too many trashy hero magazines."

He snorted a laugh.

"They're a bit addictive." She dropped her head to one side.

He twirled around her. "Alright, want to know what I've figured out about you in the last few days."

"Oh, the Wing Hero has been evaluating me?"

"It's a habit." He splashed at the water around their ankles.

"So, I'm not just a pretty face?"

"You're a pretty everything." He held her hands, twirling her back and forth. "But you're also an incredible urban designer. I figure you've spent years studying architecture and interior design while copped up. The whole area outside of your…what'd you call it…Powerplant…you designed the whole neighbourhood, inside and out. Maybe your bosses wouldn't admit you did, but you did. Am I right?"

She blinked. "How…"

"I'm good at picking up these things." He brushed his fingers over her cheeks.

"I also know that you spend that one hour of yours walking around in two of the closet shopping malls to your Powerplant. You most likely like the urban sprawl of shopping malls, they make you feel safe."

"Okay, now how do you—"

"Because your clothes, and all your furniture, and household items, can only be found in select shops from those two malls."

She puffed out her cheeks.

"Your favourite pastime is reading, but you're very selective about your reading material. This is showcased in the fact that you only have one small bookshelf that contains an assortment of what are, to you, very special books. The most well-read book on that bookshelf is an old fairy-tale called Rapunzel." He bent closer. "The story of the girl, trapped in a tower. That book alone was the most telling item in your entire apartment. It told me all I needed to know about you."

He hoisted her up. "You are a princess, the powerplant is a dragon, and I am a prince who can reach the tower. I'd be an idiot to let you go."

She laughed as he spun about. "You are an idiot."

"Nah, come on, I thought that was pretty good for a quick glance around." Keigo grinned. "I got all that right, didn't I?"

"You really think you're something, don't you."

"I don't think it, I know it—" He tripped in the sand, landing in with a thud. He was glad the sand compressed against his wings as her weight landed on him.

"Oh, gosh, I am so sorry!" She made to scramble up. He snatched both her wrists, pulling her flat.

"But you know…one thing I never figured out." He ran his hands through her hair. "I still don't even know your name."

"Hi…" she whispered. "I'm Rilo Kazutoshi."

"Hey." He cupped her cheeks. "I'm…"

He breathed in. Right. His name. The name they'd made him abandon. He hadn't said it out loud—not in a long, long time.

"I'm Keigo…Takami."

This kiss was far less frantic than the night before. He could take his time, appreciate the absolute vivaciousness of the energy rippling beneath her skin as he curled around her, and her hands dug beneath him, into the sand.

She pulled away, steadying herself against his chest as she heaved for air.

He cupped her chin. "To fast, too soon?" he asked.

"No, no. I just…um…don't want to cause a blackout." She winced, trying to hide her red cheeks behind her hair. It didn't work, not when her usually silver hair had gone transparent and glittering.

Keigo tipped his head back in the sand, peering behind at the city lights. Warm amusement bubbled up inside him. "Wait. Wait, we could do that?"

She covered her face, groaning. Slowly she collapsed onto his chest, mumbling. "This is so embarrassing."

"Ah. No, not embarrassing. Tell me absolutely everything." He smothered her in his wings, laughing.

She toppled off his lap into the sand, rolling into a tiny ball. "It is possible, that when I get excited, or angry, or…my emotions go haywire, I admit an electric pulse that can disrupt…things…so I usually carry a…" she made a small fist, "small field dampener when I go out, to protect people."

Well, that was interesting. He wondered if this had been told to her by her handlers, and if it was another controlling mechanism they'd established, or if it was actually something her quirk could do. He tucked his knees to his chin. "Things? I presume you're not just meaning inanimate objects but living organisms too."

She nodded, peering out from her small ball. "How'd you figure that out?"

He gave her a wiry smirk. "Lightbulb, kissing you is like inhaling a lightning storm." Keigo stretched out a wing. "From the moment I met you, you've made my wings sing." And now, he had to know why.

Keigo grinned. She was curled into a ball of hilarious embarrassment again.

He crossed his legs, leaning forward to brush at her hair. "You know, I'd gotten so used to feeling pain through my wings." He gently plucked a feather, watching it vibrate and twitch as it fell away from the collective to pick up its own frequency. "Each feather is a part of me." He held out the feather. "Capable of feeling pain…and pleasure, I suppose." He twirled the feather back and forth. "But pain…mostly pain…"

"I'm so sorry. No one should live like that." She'd uncurled from her ball and was now lying flat on the sand, propped up by her arms as he swept the feather back and forth. He sent it to her with a smile. She caught it, and gently brushed her fingers over it.

"I like that I don't have to smile around you." He looked out across the ocean. "And you know how to take sarcasm, and apparently throw it back."

She kept caressing the feather.

"Okay, you need to stop doing that." He grabbed her hand, pealing her fingers off the feather. Oh. The little firecracker actually smirked.

"Do I?"

"Yes." His voice faltered. Damnit. "Okay, so, think of each feather as having millions of hyper-sensitive nerves on the end of really, really long strings." He tightened his grip on her wrist. "But just, intensify that by…infinity…"

"And you're used to pain."

"I'm used to pain." He whispered. "I'm not used to whatever you're doing."

"Still not letting it go." She stuffed it down her shirt and he dropped his head in defeat.

"You little minx."

"You could always try to get it back."

"Fuck you."

"You could try that too." She shot back.

He scrambled for her.

She squealed, crawling away and hoisting herself up, running down the beach with a laugh. He watched her go, contemplating the effort of getting off the sand and chasing after her.

"Fine, Lightbulb." He lifted himself up. "Games on."

Taking two steps forward, he activated fierce wings, ripping across the sand and twirling around her. She squeaked, thumping against his chest.

"Hey, no hero powers." She protested.

"Yeah, sorry, nah, nothing is fair in love and war."

"Really?" She stepped up to him and he sucked in a breath as the air around them crackled. "So, do you want to be electrocuted by someone who can power a whole city?"

Why was he so tempted to say yes. Why did it sound like she was offering him an amazing night. Why did it look like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Damit," he hissed.

She laughed.

"Okay. Okay." Keigo held up both his hands. "You want to keep the feather tucked away, right there, between your breasts, that's fine. No arguments from me. At least let me get it professionally turned into a pendant or something first, so you don't lose the damn thing."

She narrowed her glowing eyes.

"I swear, I'll give it back. It'll make for a good honing device." He slapped her cheeks. "You'll never escape me now."

"Jackass."

"Lightbulb."

"Tiny sparrow."

"Oh, I am so offended." Taking her hand they headed back to their small pile of gear. She buried herself inside the oversized hoodie once more. As he pulled on his jacket, he studied her gaze lost to the horizon beyond the ocean. Distant stars glinting in the velvet tint of the night sky.

"Keigo…"

His name, from her lips, was everything he could have hoped for. It was worth the years of abandonment and fear. Her hands fidgeted with the ties of her hoodie. "Th…thank you…thank you for tonight."

He lifted her chin. "Say it again, please, my name."

"Keigo."

He breathed in. "That's all I need." He pressed the spare visor over her head before sweeping her up. "Come on, let's get you home. I'm going to need some sleep for tomorrow's flight."

Keigo paused. "Ah, hold on real tight, taking off from ground level is a bit different." Her arms tightened around his neck. He was hesitant to hold her any tighter, considering the bruising he knew lay under the hoodie.

"It's okay," he heard her whisper through the headset. "I'm okay."

"Alright then." He eased back a leg, bracing himself as his wings expanded to their full length and with a fierce, downward thrust, he jettisoned into the air. Then slowly, he evened out, tucking Rilo comfortably against his chest.

"Oh, wow." She pulled away from his shoulder. "That was intense."

He laughed. "Does take a bit of getting used to."

"No wonder you almost killed me the first time we met."

He frowned. "Oh. Ah, you're not talking about the balcony." He winged past a skyscraper's antennae. "The traffic incident."

She nodded.

"Yeah, I usually try not to lift-off around civilians for that reason. And I can't go top speeds in the city either, or I blast out the damn windows."

"Aw, you poor thing."

"Hey, feel for me, it's super restrictive."

Rilo gave his cheek a playful pat. "Poor sweetie."

"I should drop on top of a skyscraper and leave you there."

"You do that, and I'll change my mobiles background to a picture of All-Might."

"I'm tempted, considering the photo you're currently using is unbearable."

"No, it's cute."

"We need to work on your use of the word cute."

He glided them smoothly back to her apartment, landing gently on the balcony. Still holding her he turned back in the direction of the city they'd just flown through. "So, what'd you think?"

"It's beautiful. Thank you."

He flicked out his phone, held it out, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"What?"

The flash activated and she squeaked in surprised.

"Okay, now, that's a better photo." He showed her the image of them both. "See, that's cute."

He quickly sent it to her. "Use that as your background."

Easing her down, he pushed open the glass doors and made beeline for the couch, collapsing onto it with a loud thump.

Rilo slipped off the spare visor, placing it down on the coffee table before huddling up next to him, humming happily as she fiddled with her mobile.

Keigo fought back a yawn. "I'll pick you up tomorrow, at around noon. Dress warm. Flying at high altitudes can be a bit nippy."

She glanced up. "I'm still not sure…I've never left the Powerplant—"

He smothered her protests with a kiss. "It'll be fine. Trust me." His head dropped to her shoulder. "I should go, I've got an early morning."

"You could stay here." She glanced at the bed.

"As nice as falling asleep next to someone sounds, I'll probably be really distracted and not sleep." He chuckled. "My brain is hard enough to turn off." He dragged himself up right. "Promise me you'll take some more painkillers."

"I'm fine." She followed him to the alfresco doors. "You're worrying about nothing."

"You've obviously not looked in a mirror." He gently brushed at her shoulders and neck.

Rilo frowned.

"There is a reason why you're aching, and it'll be even worse tomorrow."

"I'm fine, really."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." He leant on the doorframe. "Let the Pro Hero worry, alright."

"Well, you are the expert. I will bow to your far superior knowelage in the field of catching lightbulbs that fall from broken balconies."

He pressed his lips to her forehead. If he went anywhere near her mouth, he'd end up staying longer. "The thing about lightbulbs is they shatter very easily."

"They do," she murmured.

"Don't shatter."

"Don't drop me."

He chuckled, stepping back into the air. "Goodnight, Lightbulb."

0000

Keigo flung himself onto his bed. He should probably get up, have a shower. It had been a while since he'd preened his wings, yet, he really just could not be bothered moving from the mattress.

"What am I doing?" he murmured beneath the arm over his face.

He couldn't get the vision out of his head. Those monstrous wires attached to a delicate lightbulb. He should have known that their society would have thought up something hideously repugnant, something he'd have considered villainous, and yet claimed it as for the betterment of all.

"Why are my wings always right…"

When they'd responded to her fall off the balcony that night, had it been the fall itself that had activated the instinctual response, or something deeper. Staring at the ceiling, a small smile touched his lips. She'd said his name—

He hadn't heard it said aloud in such a long time.

The Commission tried hard to strip him of his identity, so much so, he truly did wonder who he was beneath the masks. Was it not so much who he was? Was it more, who he wanted to be?

His wings rippled with a shiver. Since he'd been a boy, he'd only ever been trapped in situations he couldn't escape from, but, at least he'd had wings to fly with. He hooked his knee under his chin, glancing to the windows.

"Okay…" he whispered. "How do I handle this."

He reached for his mobile, flicking it back and forth idly. He'd work hard to use the publics obsession with heroes as a shield against the Commission. It was possible he could try that in this case as well, the question was how.

"Think, Hawks…" he clambered off the bed, heading for his desk, strewn with papers and files. "There has got to be something, about someone, that you can use."

Several loose, smaller feathers began flicking through files, organizing the chaotic mess. The Heroes Public Safety Commission made him run intel on a lot of people, often they wanted specific information, which left him with considerable amounts of intel that he never handed over to them. This either made him an asset, or it'd eventually make him a target—like his predecessor—

Which was why he had to eventually untangle the web that he was caught in.

His gaze caught a loose file and he reached for it, smiling at the magazine cut-out he'd used to stick to the printout since he'd not had an updated photograph. All-Might, looking as eternally youthful as ever. Their Symbol of Hope, Strength, and Peace.

Keigo thumped back on the desk, frowning at his scrawled note on the edge of the page. Slowly he reached for the lighter he kept in the desk drawer, left there for the sole purpose of burning evidence. He moved to the nearby sink, igniting the paper, and dumping it in the tub to watch it slowly shrivel away.

He flicked out his mobile, running through the contacts.

"Hey, All-Might." He forced a cheerful tone as he flopped onto the bed once more. "Sorry if I woke you, I didn't? Good. Wow, you're worse than I am then. Listen, I need some help, and I think I can help you too, but you're going to have to hear me out first. This is about your Little Secret."

Authors Note:

So, I suffer from horrible insomnia and several months ago it got unbelievably bad, and I had no idea what to do. Then, one night, I was just randomly scrolling through Youtube and I stumbled upon Yuzuya's channel, and this introduced me to the genre of sleep-aids. It's not an understatement to say that Yuzuya's work pretty much saved my life.

This first chapter is very heavily inspired by their Hawks series – which is, Listener falls from balcony episode. It's a really good catalyst to start a story from. So, I give all credit to Yuzuya for the idea that started this story, and also thank them for helping me through what was, one of the most difficult times I've gone through.

The idea for Lightbulb and her quirk came from a conversation with my Dad, on a late night walk – cause – as I said – I'm an insomniac, and it get's bad, and it was a bad night and of course, a girl can't walk alone at 2AM in the morning so my Dad dragged himself over to my place to take me for a walk so I wouldn't do anything stupid. We were actually discussing the world building of my current novel in progress, when we walked past one of those transformers disguised as mini-houses and due to the topic of my novel, I commented to my Dad (who works as an electrical engineer) that 'wouldn't it be weird if there were actual people living inside the transformers, having to switch out all the wires and things…and we just didn't know.'

And my Dad looked at me, dead serious, and replied: 'Well, how do you know there isn't? We could be living in a dystopian society, and you wouldn't know, would you, because you grew up in it and don't know any different.'

That's how the whole idea of the electrical quirk's being powerplants became a thing, and from that, this fanfiction took on a life of its own. I wrote up a plan for it, and decided what I actually wanted to achieve out of it.

Usually, I like to wait until I've finished a whole novel to upload it, but, we'll wing this one, yeah?