Chapter Two: Wings and Warnings
Falling Without Gravity
Uraraka pulled at the hem of her blazer for the third time in as many minutes. Her palms were clammy.
The lobby of the Hawks Hero Agency was modern and sleek—tall glass walls, brushed steel, and gold accents that gleamed under the afternoon sun. Everything about it felt sharp. Fast. Important.
She definitely felt underdressed.
She stood in a line of five other students, all of them from different schools, their crisp uniforms marking them like little islands of self-consciousness. One boy beside her kept bouncing on the balls of his feet. Another girl was trying not to chew her nails. No one spoke. The tension in the air was electric—like standing beneath a thundercloud.
They were all waiting for the same thing: to meet the number two pro hero.
Uraraka exhaled slowly. This wasn't her first work study, but it felt like it was. With Ryukyu, she'd been mentored. Nurtured. Cared for.
This felt… different.
There was a quiet chime, and a tall agency staffer stepped out of a side door, holding a tablet.
"Takami-san will see you each individually," she said crisply. "We'll call your name when it's your turn. Please be respectful of the others' meetings. He doesn't like to repeat himself."
One by one, students were called.
The girl with the nail-biting habit went first. The door closed behind her with a hiss.
Uraraka's heart thumped against her ribs. She curled her fingers into fists to keep from fidgeting.
Ten minutes. Then fifteen. Another student disappeared into the office. Then another.
And then—
"Uraraka Ochaco."
She straightened like a string had been pulled through her spine. Her legs moved before her mind caught up, carrying her down the hallway toward the door the others had vanished through.
This was it.
She stepped into the office.
It was bigger than she expected. A panoramic window stretched behind a sleek black desk, showing off the Musutafu skyline. Shelves lined with files, comms gear, and small trophies lined one wall. A coat rack in the corner held a red jacket and a pair of aviator sunglasses.
And at the desk, leaned back in his chair like he owned the sky itself, was Hawks.
He didn't look up.
He was halfway through a tray of fried chicken, a thigh held loosely in one hand, the other resting against his temple as he spoke into a headset.
"No, I told you," he said, voice low but firm. "If the intel's solid, we move fast. No red tape. No wait-and-see."
His golden eyes flicked toward the window. His tone changed—colder.
"Then you'd better make it solid. I'm not dragging kids into this blind."
Uraraka froze near the door. The seriousness in his voice didn't match anything she'd seen in public interviews. There was no casual smirk. No lazy charm. Just… steel.
He still hadn't noticed her.
"I don't care what the Commission says. If I get one of them killed, it's on me. Not you. Not the agency." A pause. "No. I'm done talking."
And then, without even saying goodbye, he tapped his headset off and turned—
Right to her.
She nearly jumped.
His eyes sharpened. Then, in the span of a heartbeat, his expression melted into something smooth and easy. That signature smile—the kind that looked carved from sunlight—spread across his face.
"Ah. You must be Uraraka."
She nodded, still too stunned to speak. He was… really attractive in person. Tall. Lean. Those golden eyes practically glowed. His wings—huge and red and powerful—were folded behind him like a secret.
And somehow, even in this high-rise office, he looked like he belonged in the sky.
He grinned. "Sorry about that. Hope I didn't scare you off."
"I—uh—no. You didn't," she managed, stepping farther inside.
"Good. I try not to terrify my interns on day one." He stood, brushing crumbs from his lap and waving her over. "C'mere, let's talk expectations."
She walked to the desk and sat in the chair he gestured to, still acutely aware of her uniform and slightly wrinkled skirt. She resisted the urge to tug at it again.
He leaned against the edge of the desk, crossing his arms, wings rustling lightly behind him.
"So," Hawks said, voice easy again. "Why'd you choose me?"
She blinked. "Honestly? I didn't think I'd get picked. I just… wanted something different."
"Different, huh?" His smile tugged at the edge of his lips. "You bored at U.A.?"
The way he said it—it wasn't teasing, but it wasn't quite serious either. There was something almost knowing in his tone. Like he saw more than he let on.
She shrugged. "A little."
"Well, you came to the right place," he said with a lazy wink. "We're never boring here."
She felt a flicker of warmth curl in her stomach, unexpected and electric.
"Here's the deal," Hawks continued, suddenly more businesslike. "I don't do hand-holding. If you're here, it's because I think you've got instincts. I want quick thinking, good reflexes, and someone who doesn't freeze when things get ugly. Think you can handle that?"
Uraraka sat up straighter. "Yes."
"Good. Because this isn't a photo-op agency. I deal with real threats. Fast intel. Gray zones. If I tell you to duck, you duck. No questions."
"Understood."
He watched her for a beat, head tilted, expression unreadable. Then he smiled again, slow and warm.
"I like you," he said. "You've got guts."
She blinked. "Thanks…?"
"Don't thank me yet." He stretched, wings flexing behind him in a dramatic flourish that made her breath catch. "Orientation's tomorrow. Bright and early. Wear something you can move in. Oh, and—"
He leaned in just a little, his voice dropping into something playful.
"Try not to fall for me, yeah? I'm really bad at turning people down."
Her face flushed.
He grinned, clearly amused.
"See you tomorrow, Birdie."
She blinked again. "Did you just—?"
"Nickname privileges," he said smugly. "Comes with the internship."
And with that, he turned back to his desk, already reaching for another piece of chicken like the conversation hadn't made her heart beat ten times too fast.
Uraraka left the office with her pulse in her throat.
So that was Hawks.
She wasn't sure if she wanted to punch him or float through the ceiling.
Maybe both.