Chapter Text
Now the No.2 hero of Japan, Hawks has never found the pleasure in going to hero parties. He’s always found them to be a waste of time. Though he does have to admit, the light jazz in the background isn’t half bad. Still, all these parties are just ballrooms full of heroes talking about how great they are or getting drunk in a corner (Hawks always falls into the drunken category - usually on the verge of vomiting or exchanging messy, drunken kisses with a random newbie hero).
The common hero parties suck, but the HBCJ parties… they are on a whole other level of sucky. Not only are these the fancier formal parties, but Hawks is expected to get all dressed up. Suit, tie, fancy shoes, all of it. He likes the way he looks in a suit; he likes the way he doesn’t look like a hero. He likes the way he feels in suits, how secure he feels in them. He hates the shoes, though; they’re always so tight. And he definitely hates the dent in his paycheck.
These parties are also the ones where heroes are “welcome” to bring their family along. But in reality, the heroes bring their families solely to show off their golden child-prodigies. And yes, you guessed it, Endeavor is one of these many heroes. However, he’s only ever brought his youngest son along. The one who got 2nd place at the UA sports festival.
Since he could remember, Endeavour would bring little Shoto, his child prodigy, to these events. He would brag about how amazing his son was and how perfected his Half Hot - Half Cold Quirk had become. Hawks took note of how Shoto stood so quietly at his father's side, looking anywhere but into the eyes of strangers and other heroes fawning over him. Hawks can’t blame the kid; he’d be uncomfortable, too.
But this time will be different. Different in a good way, Hawks would soon come to realize. This time, Endeavour will bring the rest of his family with him. Which made sense, considering it was practically an expectation for the No. 1 to bring their family. The whole family. It was an unwritten rule, common knowledge between heroes and civilians alike.
Hawks considers what it would be like if he ever makes it to the No.1 spot. His father, behind bars, and his mother, absent (Or, on the run. But he’s always felt that to be too harsh a word). The foolish woman was only present when it came to asking for money. Which Hawks always ended up giving her without even a thought. He doesn't have siblings, cousins, or even an aunt or uncle. He is alone. No one to accompany him, no one to carry on his arm.
The public, most of all his fans, finds this to be a mysterious thing. The absence of any known family. He thinks it likely contributed to his popularity poll. Which he can’t say he minds all that much. But the questions soon get aggravating after a while. The press is always asking where they are, why he doesn't bring them along, and if he’s at least got a partner. But he always just brushes them off, changes the subject to another hero or, if he’s desperate, flirts his way out.
But at the end of the day, no matter how upsetting these people become, he can’t help but enjoy it. The attention. Hawks believe it’s one of the few perks of being a hero. He’s always loved the attention. His therapist would say it's likely a result of his childhood neglect, that is, if he had one. But it’s true, and he knows enjoying the attention doesn't make him better than any other hero. But he didn't always like the attention; in all honesty, he used to hate it. Everyone’s eyes bored into him like some item put up for auction. Sometimes he can still feel that way. Sometimes.
Hawks sighs, setting his empty glass down by the bar. Another perk to these parties is that all his drinks throughout the night will go on the Commission’s tab. Lucky him.
Most VIPs have already arrived, the VIPs being upper-rank heroes. They always get early access to these events. Hawks never plans to come early, but he always finds himself being one of the first to arrive. The Commission usually gives upper rank heroes the day off for these events. And since he doesn't have much of a life outside of his hero work or missions for the Commission, he really has nothing better to do.
Hawks checks his watch. Mirko should be getting here soon. He nods to the bartender for another whiskey. He’s surprised they even had whiskey since they usually only have champagne or cocktails at these things. He sinks further into his place at the bar as he waits for Mirko. He knew of her before the HBCJ, but after his little speech, they became acquainted. He would go as far as to say they are friends now.
He likes her. She’s very bold and charismatic. He admires how little she cares about what people think of her. He admires how proud she is to be a hero and how she doesn’t try to be anything; he admires how she just is. He admires how there’s no difference between Mirko and Rumi. She’s so much of what most heroes aren't, including himself.
“How many have you had?” Speak of the devil.
Hawks turns to find Mirko on the stool beside him. Her hair is up in a classy bun, with two long strands pulled out on either side of her face. She doesn’t have any jewelry on, as is to be expected of the bunny hero. She hates jewelry. Not only for the way it feels on her skin, but, as she puts it, “restrains my movement”, making it harder to fight if need be. Her dress has thin straps and dips low in the back, showcasing her muscular build. That’s another thing he admires about her. She’s never tried to hide her “unusual” build.
“How many do you think?” Hawks smiles, bringing the class to his lips.
“3,” She says confidently.
Hawks rolls his eyes, “You have no faith in me,” his voice is filled with faux hurt.
“4?”
“Jesus woman, I'm not a barbarian.”
“5?” She asks, seeming to be consumed by a mix of surprise and concern. Hawks is beginning to feel guilty for drinking so much when he goes out with her.
“2 Mirko. 2.” He says flatly, gesturing to the glass in his hand, “This is my second, if you must know.”
Mirko smiles, mostly in a teasing way, but he still notices the slight glint in her eye. Neither of them have spoken about Hawks’ drinking problem, if you could even call it that. But they both know, and she’s communicated with him in her own way, that she wants him to get better. That she wants him to get better. Almost like a big sister would. He feels comfortable with that thought, safe almost.
She gives his shoulder a solid squeeze, a small gesture but still so impactful.
“So,” she says, changing the subject, “Think Endeavour is really gonna bring the rest of the pack with him?”
“Knowing him? Doubt it.”
“I hope they come, think it’d be fun to meet the rest of the family.” She waves the bartender down, “You got espresso martinis?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The man nods, turning to reach for a glass to prepare her drink.
“Fifty bucks says he doesn’t bring them.” Hawks smirks at her. He loves making bets with her, especially since he never loses.
“Fifty says he does,” She says, holding her hand out.
Hawks shakes it, “Deal.”
Once the bartender arrives with Mirko’s drink, they settle into a steady rhythm of conversation.
Hawks’ mind begins to wander. He’d be curious to meet the rest of the family, especially Shoto’s siblings. He wonders if they are like their brother, cool and quiet, keeping out of the spotlight. He’s not sure why he’s so interested in them. Maybe it’s because the public, as well as he and the Commission, know nothing about them (Endeavour has made sure of that). Or maybe it’s because he wants to know more about the man he used to look up to as a kid. To find something that could redeem him from the way he treats little Shoto, something that could make Hawks respect him not as a hero, but as a person again.
Or maybe it’s just his curiosity. He’s always been a curious guy. Sometimes he thinks his curiosity will be what kills him in the end. Maybe he’ll get too attached to a case and its loose ends, or maybe he’ll dig too deep into a mission the Commission gives him. At the end of every story book, curiosity always kills the cat.
Thirty minutes go by, and still no sign of the Todorokis. Everyone has become increasingly more anticipatory of their arrival, including Hawks.
“Looks like you may win,” Mirko says, finishing off her martini.
Hawks sets his glass down, “I always do,” he smiles, his eyes checking the entrance one last time. In all honesty, he’s disappointed the Todoroki family didn't show. The promise of their presence was one of the only reasons he’d stayed as long as he did. “Well,” he says, turning back to Mirko, “I'm gonna share some pleasantries with a few heroes, then I'm probably gonna try to dip out as unnoticed as possible.”
Mirko laughs, “Ok, you have fun with that.”
Hawks stands and rolls out his shoulders. “You bet I will,” he smiles before squeezing her shoulder and disappearing into the crowd.
Hawks hadn't noticed how many people had shown up since Mirko had sat down with him. He wishes he had, but now he’s forced to squeeze through a sea of bodies just to reach his superior.
He’d lied to Mirko; he’d had no intention of mingling with random heroes. He had a mission. Even on his days off, the Commission still manages to weasel in a mission.
He’s been instructed to pick up a list of names from an informant. He knows it's likely a hit list, but he hopes it's not. He always hopes it is not, and yet it always is. His hands have become too tainted for his age. For anyone, really. The commission says it's for the greater good, but at the end of the day, he knows he’s no better than any villain out there roaming the streets.
Hawks reaches for the collar of the jacket he isn't wearing, his only tell. He does this when he’s having any sort of complicated feeling. His hand lingers in the air for a moment before fiddling with his tie, pretending to readjust it.
Breathe. Just breathe. He closes his eyes and repeats the affirmation a few more times before his heart rate settles back to its usual beat.
He reopens his eyes, noticing how everyone has stopped moving. And stopped talking. The whole room has gone still, quiet. Like the eye of a storm. Everyone’s attention is on the entrance, and shit. He owes Mirko fifty bucks.
All eyes watch as the whole Todoroki family walks into the room. Endeavour and Shoto walk in first. Hawks notices a shift in the way he stands beside his father, more confident.
The rest of the family follows behind, all appearing to be uncomfortable with the weight of everyone’s staring. Except for one of them. The eldest son comes in last, seeming to bask in the crowd's attention. He’s got an odd glint in his eye, something Hawks can’t quite place.
The man shares the same white hair as the rest of his siblings, along with the similar blue eyes of Shoto and his father. He looks almost identical to his mother, only difference being the light scars running along the sides of his neck. Those same scars wrap around his wrists, hardly noticeable under his cuffs. It’s a shade of tan, a clean contrast from his pale skin. Hawks’ curiosity is piqued.
Heroes circle them, blocking his view of the family. They introduce themselves, begging to get noticed. Hawks decides this is his que to remember his mission. He turns from the door, falling away from the crowd.
—————
After collecting the list from his informant, Hawks found himself back at the bar. Mirko seems to have left soon after the Todoroki family showed up. She shot him a text three minutes ago saying you owe me. He’s not looking forward to seeing that smug look of triumph on her face tomorrow morning.
Yamazaki. Aki. Yumeko. Satou. Matsumoto. Ken. Sasaki. Yoshida. Kiyomi. Nobu. The little yellow paper of names sits under his fourth glass of the night. He rereads the names over and over to sear them into his brain. Yamazaki. Aki. Yumeko. Satou. Matsumoto. Ken. Sasaki. Yoshida. Kiyomi. Nobu. He has no idea what these names mean or who they belong to. But now it's his job to find out.
The air shifts beside him, “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”
Hawks folds the paper and tucks it in his pocket. He turns, only to be met by the same bright blue eyes that he’s felt on him all night.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”