Chapter Twenty-Nine: Fukuoka

Canary swooped gleefully around an old antenna, grabbing it, and hooking himself up into a perching position. It creaked under his weight, leaning slightly to one side, but holding. His day had been wonderfully uneventful. He'd helped a few people out with some odd chores. One guy had managed to get himself stuck in a fence, which had required a bit of thought, but overall, Fukuoka was blissful and peaceful.

At least on the surface.

He looked out across the city, bathed in the afternoon sun.

His wings were displeased about something, only he could not pinpoint it.

There was an ambient unease in the air, as if he was on the crux of a disaster. He frowned at the ocean, glinting and glistening in the sunlight.

Was it an earthquake?

A tsunami?

A fire?

There had to be something that was collectively making the population feel uneasy, on mass.

He sighed and tapped his headphones, dialling Medusa.

"Canary, this is good, you're finally learning to check in on the hour."

Nope. He'd totally forgotten that had been a thing, but, he'd let Medusa think otherwise.

"How's it looking out there?"

"Well…" Canary sighed. "Everything seems fine."

"Then that's good." The medi-hero assured in his annoying, patient, warm voice.

"I'm just feeling something is off, Med."

"Ah…you didn't catch the broadcast of the ranking then?"

"Um. No. I've been working." Canary pouted at the reminder that he was totally missing the fun.

"Hawks' might have insinuated that something, possibly, was going to happen." Medusa offered.

Oh—

Right—

Canary tipped his head to one side. "Well, that'd do it."

"So, I wouldn't worry." Medusa assured. "Do your last round, and then come on home and we'll grab some celebratory takeaway, maybe even spread streamers around the agency just to mess with Bubbles."

Canary grinned. "Can I put balloons in the netting?"

"Sure thing. Have at it."

"Sweet." Canary gave a fist pump. Hawks was going to love it. They never got to do the balloons in the high netting when Bubbles was around being all prim and proper. "Okay, I'll see you in a few hours."

"Remember too—"

"Check in, I know, I know." Canary tapped off his headset.

He stood, swinging back and forth on the antenna before launching. He dipped and swooped, taking in the delightful sensation of the wind as he flipped about. There was an artful skill to flying—sure—avian aviators obviously had it innately born into them—but sky-dancing had to be perfected with constant practice. He still had years until he mastered anywhere near Hawks' level of agility in the air. But it was always exciting to see the possibilities manifested in his mentor.

His sister hadn't ever really understood the way Hawks taught, it hadn't ever been so much through instruction, drilling and structure, Hawks much preferred an older method of showing and not telling. Perhaps it had been easier for him, being the empath.

But—

Then again—

Canary flicked his gaze across sector eighteen.

It wasn't as if Hawks had ever gone easy on him. Being an empath in the middle of a battle was dangerous, and Hawks did not appreciate being weighed down.

Canary sighed. He had to be able to show Hawks he could keep up, especially now that his sister was gone.

"Well…I guess he did leave me in charge this weekend." Canary smiled. "That has to mean something."

Medusa was totally not the boss this weekend.

Totally not the boss at all.

Which was why he was flying around in sector eighteen, despite the instructions to keep out. Pff. Please. He was a hero, and this was his city. How could there be a no-go zone in his own city—

The metal quill pieced straight through his shoulder, wrenching him out of the sky.

Canary slammed through the warehouse ceiling, shattering glass and wood as he crumbled into a ball.

He shook glass from his wings, staggering onto his feet as he grabbed at the metal barb through his shoulder. Blood leaked down his armour, seeping into his pants and dripping onto his boots.

He couldn't feel the pain.

All he could feel was an overwhelming rage emanating from the lumbering figure walking slowly towards him through the settling dust.

"Porcupine." Canary snatched for one of his daggers.

"Aw, is the little birdie scared?" The roughened voice leered.

Scared. Yes. He was terrified, but that only gave him amble reason to advance. Canary slammed a foot back, firming up his foundation as he lowered his stance. There was no way he could bring Porcupine down, but he could parry him long enough to get past and get away.

Blood slopped across the concrete floor.

Canary ignored it.

He clung to the blinding hatred being projected at him and used it to send himself hauling forward with a violent cry. He dodged another metal quill. It nicked past a wing. He smacked another down with a shattering ploom of the concrete floor and he summersaulted to slam into Porcupine, sending the villain stumbling several paces backwards.

Roaring laughter filled the warehouse. Canary stared at his shattered, broken dagger. It hadn't even made a dent in the villains hulking armour.

"Nice try." Porcupine's armour hissed steam.

He didn't react in time. His throat was snatched by a meaty grip, and he was smacked up against a solid timber beam, choking not just from the grip but the intense smell of sulphur pouring from between the armour's plates.

Bloodshot eyes peered at him through a slit in the metal shroud.

"I think I'll pin you up, like a nice welcome home gift for the Hawk."

Tears seeped down his cheeks.

Oh—

He was actually going to die.

Hawks—

Sorry—

So sorry—

Fire ignited through the warehouse, ripping across the ground in a dazzling pattern. Canary hit the ground with a squark of surprise as the pyromancer who'd saved him the last time, held Porcupine's wrist.

The metal armour was beginning to melt, dripping onto the floor.

"Dabi." Porcupine snarled. "What you are doing here?"

"Porcupine. I thought I made it very clear that this city is currently my territory." The pyromancer's blue eyes looked furious as they glanced down at him, and his sorry state. "And every fucking thing in it, including the heroes, are also mine."

"I've got a job." Porcupine stepped back, away from the intense heat.

Canary curled into a ball.

The pyromancer eased in front of him.

Canary swallowed.

It was almost like—

Liked he was being shielded.

Shielded by a villain...from...a villain.

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure I know what it is." The pyromancer idly studied his nails, as if he was bored of the entire scenario around him. "And whoever hired you isn't paying you near enough. Hawks isn't someone you're even remotely capable of tackling."

Canary sucked in a sharp breath. Wait—what?

He attempted to stand.

The pyromancer jerked towards him and he immediately felt it, the intense warning to remain on his little butt. It wasn't fear induced. It was an emotional order that locked him in place.

Only Hawks had achieved that before in battle. He hadn't even known anyone else had been aware they could use his empathy in that manner. Not even his sister, who he'd been raised with, who'd lived with him, gone to school with him, had given him emotional orders before.

"Then perhaps we should team up. I'll offer you thirty." Porcupine tempted.

The pyromancer cracked a laugh.

"Forty?"

"Even if you offered me all of it, Porcupine, my reply would be the same. I'm not for hire. I do whatever the fuck I feel like doing, when I feel like it. It sickens me that you got yourself collared up in that prison and forgot the priceless villain code."

The pyromancer spread his hands, igniting them. "We're free."

Canary's wings twitched.

Something was wrong.

Well—more so than two villains having a pissing content right in front of him.

Through the smoke from the pyromancer's fire, and the dust from his own crash landing still in the air, it was difficult to see, but he let his quirk guide him. There—on the second story of the old warehouse.

A man—

A man aiming something right at the pyromancer.

No. No.

Canary lunged up, taking to the air. He slammed into the intruder, burying a knife into his side, only to feel a sharp pain in his own arm. Was that a rebound?

No—

It wasn't—

He didn't even have time to register hitting the ground as he went over the banister. His world just went black.

00000

Canary came awake in a flurry of feathers. He gasped in pain, clutching at his shoulder. Someone had taken the time to clean the wound and strap it in the linin from his medical kit. If he focused, he was pretty sure one of his wings were sprained. He held out his arms. He was covered in cuts from glass and wood, but, it could have been worse. He could have broken his wing. At least he hadn't done that.

Wait, what was he even thinking—

It could have been so much worse.

His chest clenched as he raised a hand to his neck. It ached. It must have been terribly bruised. The grip that Porcupine had held him in had been terrifying. He'd been so sure he was going to die.

He could have died.

He'd had no backup.

None at all.

Canary struggled out of the cot he was lying in, fighting back tears. How long had he been out? Medusa was going to lecture him—

No—

Worse—

Hawks was going to lecture him.

Canary wiped at his cheeks.

"Whoa. Whoa. Tweety! Calm the fuck down." A warm hand shoved him back onto the cot. "Don't strain your wing. You're not feeling it now, because of the tranquilizer, but it took me a bit to pop it back into place."

Canary's face paled.

Oh—fuck—

He swallowed the foul taste in his mouth. "I got…knocked out."

"Yup." The pyromancer knelt in front of him.

Up-close, the man wasn't as old as he'd first presumed him to be. It was just his burns that made it difficult to judge his age from a distance.

"I'm Dabi."

"Why did you help me?"

"Your boss threatened to feed me to some pigs. Since I know if your boss and I fought it'd probably take out half of Fukuoka, and I like this city, we're sort of at an awkward truce." Dabi held out a bottle of water to him. Canary took it and ignored all protocol he'd been taught at hero school; he drank it, he was so unbearably thirsty. If he pissed right now, he was sure he'd be pissing a stream as yellow as his feathers, that's how dehydrated he felt.

"Easy, Tweety…you'll throw it up. These tranquilizers are no joke. You're going to be of kilter for a few days."

"You keep saying tranquilizer." Canary rubbed at his stinging eyes. "I thought Porcupine just hit me will one of his quills."

Dabi arched an eyebrow. "You don't remember the other guy?"

Canary raised his head to stare directly at the pyromancer. "No," he whispered.

"Okay. Well. Maybe that's a good thing." Dabi murmured. "By the way, apologises for manipulating you."

"Er. What?"

"Manipulating you." Dabi wiggled his fingers about. "You're an empath, right? I've met a few of your type in…ah…other…more…questionable fields of work…"

Canary squinted at him.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?"

"No."

"Wow. Sheltered."

"I'm not sheltered!" Canary squawked.

The look he was given told him otherwise. Canary puffed out his cheeks.

"Anyway. Point is, manipulating an empath, not good." Dabi shrugged.

"You're a villain."

"Some of us still have morals, Tweety. We even have codes of ethics, and rules." Dabi smirked. "Humans are just like that. It's something your boss seems to get rather well."

Canary blinked as his nose was poked. "You need to learn some shielding techniques, or, you're going to find some villains will mess you up bad, kid. Real bad. I'll mention it to Hawks. I know some folks, they might be able to teach you."

This was the weirdest day of his life. Ever.

"Um." Canary rubbed at his stinging nose. "The…guy who shot me. What happened?"

"Let's just say he's no longer a problem." The pyromancer flicked smoke away from the boiling splits between several junctions of his scars, stapled together by silver metal that must have been designed to withstand his heat. Canary had to wonder just what type of metal it was, to not melt when so close to such a furnace.

"You killed him?"

"I did." Dabi stood, moving to a table and beginning to pack supplies into a bag. "That upset you?"

Canary frowned. His empathy quirk was completely dulled. He couldn't even feel the man across from him. It was oddly liberating, in a rather terrifying way. Was this—was this his own feelings inside? A feeling of relief.

"No."

"Didn't think it would, Hawks' doesn't strike me as the sort of guy who'd hire pussies. Idiots, yes, pussies, no."

"That's rude."

"Your point."

"Don't be rude." Canary snapped.

"Don't be an idiot." Dabi thumped back on the table. "So, Porcupine got away."

"Noooo." Canary covered his face. That villain was becoming his arch-nemesis at this rate. Okay, that was a little dramatic, but it really felt like it.

"But the other goon was more interesting to be honest." Dabi picked up something form the table. "Your boss is tangled up in something very fascinating. I'm not bored, that's for sure." Dabi gave a wide grin.

Canary's wings curled. He had a horrible feeling the pyromancer had tortured whoever this goon had been.

"You got shot with this." The pyromancer held up a nasty looking silver gun. "It's a tranquilizer, from Tartarus." He flipped it back and forth idly.

"Tartarus…" Canary whispered.

Villains weren't the only ones scared of Tartarus, though, he doubted a hero would ever openly admit to being afraid of the prison system that kept them all curtailed.

"Fascinating thing is; it appears to be decommissioned." Dabi tapped the side of the weapon. "According to the goon, they're supposed to be incinerated once decommissioned, but it seems someone at Tartarus is being very, very naughty."

Canary's heart raced. He did not need his quirk to know where this was heading. "Hawks! I have to warn Hawks!"

"To late, Tweety."

Canary jerked around. "What…what do you mean…to late…"

Dabi reached for a television remote, pointing it at the oldest looking television Canary had seen in years. The thing blinked and spluttered on, the image on its screen jerking in irritation before settling down. It was the news bulletin.

Canary clambered off the cot, pressing his hands to the surface of the screen at the sight of Hawks being carried away by All-Might.

"That's impossible." Canary choked out. "What's happened?"

Dabi turned up the volume.

"…on the same day that All-Might reveals the existence of his family, they have been targeted by villains. His daughter has been kidnapped by unknown assailants. What their demands are, we do not yet know…"

The television blinked off.

Canary slumped back. "Oh, Rilo…"

"Guess it's Boom Time." Dabi held up a small, odd-looking box with a small red switch. He grinned manically.

"What?" Canary blinked.

Dabi flicked the switch.

Canary's wings puffed out in alarm at the explosion. He rushed to the window, staring out across the city in horror as a cloud of smoke and flames rose up from the distance. It took several beats, and then it happened, like a wave across the darkened night Fukuoka's lights just blinked out.

The city went dark.

Canary grabbed Dabi. "What the fuck did you do!"

"What your boss asked." Dabi shrugged a backpack on. "I'm impressed. That was perfectly done."

The lockdown siren was blaring out across the city.

Hawks—

Hawks had planned this.

Why?

Dabi leapt onto the window seal.

"Where are you going?" Canary protested. "You can't just leave me here. I can't even fly!"

"You're a baby hero, you can figure it out." Dabi leered. "You've got a whole city to look after. I'm off to save a damsel in distress. Cause, that's what villains do."

Canary flinched as his cheek was clapped playfully. "Stay away from class-a villains, yeah. At least for a few more years."

"You're an arsehole." Canary shouted as Dabi leapt from the window, slinking off into the night with all the grace of a slender cat.

"That's not an insult, kiddo. That's a fact," came the shouted reply.

Canary slumped down, covering his face with trembling hands.

He had no idea what to do.

He wished Medusa was here.

Oh, right, he should call Medusa. Medusa always had the answer.

He searched about in his pockets for his mobile. Panic beginning to set in, growing heavier in his gut as he pulled out a folded-up note that said a single word.

Meow.

"He stole my phone. He…he stole…he stole my phone!" Canary shrieked. "That…that…that…villain!"

0000

Eito rolled his eyes at the sight of Mum sitting at the kitchen table, eyes glazed over as she watched reruns of the ranking ceremony. She was being way too dramatic about it all. The ranking ceremony had been hilarious, watching Hawks put on a show to that many people was amazing. Someday—someday he wanted to be just as confident and just as amazing as Hawks.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught the beginning of the news starting on the television and he reached out for the controls on the countertop, switching off the holographic display. "I think we've had enough screen time today."

"Yes, Mum." Jaku laughed.

Etio stuck out his tongue.

Removing several bowls from the kitchen cupboard, he started portioning out the takeaway.

"I just…I just can't believe it…" Mum murmured, gazing down at her coffee. "Why did he never tell me."

"Because you never listen." Etio spooned out the chicken pieces over the fluffy rice.

Mum sent him a scathing glare. He shrugged.

"All-Might's daughter, Etio. He's married All-Might's daughter." Mum groaned, flopping back in her chair.

"Isn't it great." Jaku piped up from where he was on the floor, finishing his homework. He raised his head. "Does this kind of mean we're like, related to All-Might."

"Hawks isn't actually our uncle, Jaku." Etio piled the bowls onto a tray, adding several tall glasses. He frowned, wondering if he had remembered to buy the right brand of apple juice, Haia was really picky about his apple juice.

"Yeah, I know that, Etio…" Jaku scoffed. "But he's as good as, right? Right, Mum."

Mum just groaned, folding up in a ball as she had another breakdown.

"Mum, he tried to tell you, several times." Etio sighed.

"I know." Her voice was muffled. "He's just so young!"

Jaku and Etio shared a look.

"He's not sixteen anymore, Mum." Jaku piped up. "Hawks is like, twenty-three or something."

And that made it worse. Mum just started disappearing under the table. "He probably doesn't even know how to cook!"

Etio looked down at the takeaway he'd gone out to fetch for them.

Yes—

Because she knew how to cook.

Because she did the laundry, and she vacuumed and tidied and kept the house in a respectable state. She tucked Haia into bed, and got Jaku up in the mornings. She totally went shopping, made them lunches for school, and she totally shopped for clothes for them.

No.

She didn't.

He did.

She worked, ignoring all the responsibilities she was suffering from.

Etio slammed the tray he carried down on the table, making her jolt in surprise. "Because you're such a great cook, Mum." He snapped.

She started. "Etio—"

"Don't." He smacked each glass down as he moved around the table, setting out the dinner. "I don't want to hear it."

Because he was so much like her. He didn't like to listen either. He avoided problems too—his quirk had manifested to help him avoid problems, he could just vanish and run away and never listen. But here, and now, in this horrible house he was stuck in the middle of a huge, big problem and he had no idea what to do with it.

Mum curtailed, and he felt immense shame.

She tried her best.

They all did, really—to just hold whatever fragile thing they had together.

At least it was a thing, and at least they were together.

He told himself that, each day.

All he had to do was just keep them all together. Safe.

He headed to the small doorway to the passage that led up to the stairs to the bedrooms. "Haia! Get down here, I've got dinner."

"Coming!" Haia's enthusiastic shout returned his.

Jaku started packing up his homework. Ever since Hawks had randomly mentioned the space program to Jaku, he'd become weirdly obsessed with getting better grades. That was the sort of mundane magic a hero like Hawks had.

Haia bounced into the living room and proudly flung out his arms. "Tadah! Look at me! I am a hero!"

"Haia." Etio's hands went to his hips. "How many times have I told you, you need to stop mimicking Hawks, okay."

"But look! I made wings!" Haia spun around, showcasing his red, paper cut out wings that he'd—oh no—he'd glued to his t-shirt. Ah-well-it was just a t-shirt.

Etio smiled. "That's very creative—"

"Daddy! You're home!"

Etio's breath froze in his lungs as Haia ran past him with an excited squeal. He stared at Jaku, whose face had gone deathly pale. Mum was lifting out of her chair, but she seemed to be moving in slow motion, her mouth open in a confused question that was turning into pure horror.

It was that look in her eyes that triggered his motion. He twisted the tray he held as he spun around, swinging it with all the force he could muster. It shattered on impact, splintering into pieces as it struck his father's side.

"Haia!" he shouted.

The lights cut, everything plunged into darkness—and chaos.