Chapter Text
"Ah, there is my favorite star, going somewhere she is definitely not supposed to go."
The familiar voice instantly makes your soul leave your body. You freeze mid-step. Slowly, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. There is simply no way he found you again.
Carefully, you pull your hood lower over your face and continue walking as though nothing happened. If you ignore him, perhaps he'll disappear. That strategy lasts approximately seconds. You pick up your pace, weaving through the deserted alley. You hear a woosh and then you walk directly into someone's chest.
You bounce back, little specks of starlights erupt from you. Before you can retreat, a pair of hands settle on your shoulders.
"You should really upgrade your disguises, sunshine." You already know who it is. Unfortunately, looking up confirms your worst fears. Golden eyes stare down at you, bright with amusement, a familiar grin stretches across his face. "You are literally glowing."
Immediately, you jerk away from him. Your eyes dart around the street, searching everywhere for that damn feather. Hawks watches the entire process with visible amusement. "Won't find it."
You stop, slowly to face him. You narrow your eyes. "You creepy stalker."
His grin widens.That alone is enough to tell you he feels absolutely no shame about the accusation. Over the years, you have discovered that Hawks possesses an almost supernatural ability to appear whenever you're trying to do something you probably shouldn't be doing.
As your frustration rises, so does something else. Light spreads even more through your skin. A soft golden glow spreads across your arms. Your hair starts shining faintly. And before you realize what you're doing, your feet leave the ground, just slightly.
"Damn it." You immediately recognize the signs.
Stress, embarrassment, annoyance… Your quirk has become increasingly reactive to your emotions over the years. Unfortunately, Hawks knows that too. "You know," he says casually, "most people get red when they're stressed."
You stare at him. "I hate you"
"No you don't."
"I strongly dislike you."
"There you go. Much more believable." Your glow brightens.
The hovering gets worse. Years ago, when your quirk first manifested, floating had been accidental. Now it is merely embarrassing. Before you can float any higher, a familiar hand gently wraps around your wrist. The contact grounds you instantly. The warmth beneath your skin settles and the glow softens. Your feet slowly descend until they touch the pavement once more.
Hawks guides you back down beside him with the ease of someone who has performed this exact maneuver dozens of times. Which, annoyingly, he has. "Ground control, this is big red, the star has stabilized" Hawks pretends he has an earpiece as he puts one of his fingers into his ear.
With an exaggerated sigh, you pull your hood lower over your face. "One day," you mutter, "I'm going to figure out how you keep finding me."
Hawks laughs, the sound is warm and familiar. "Oh sunshine." His grin becomes positively insufferable. "That implies I've been trying very hard." Which you just fed his ego even more.
You know Hawks from an embarrassingly large number of thirst edits, fan compilations, and questionable social media posts from your previous life. Back then, he had been nothing more than a fictional character who occasionally appeared on your feed accompanied by dramatic music and questionable comments, but honestly you had your few fictional crushes that made you act like that too. Seeing him now as an actual person remains surreal even after all these years. Sometimes you still catch yourself staring at him and remembering that, technically, he isn't supposed to exist. At least not to you. The strangest part is that you know so little about him when it comes to the manga or anime.
The Hawks you know in this universe, he is your friend. He is Keigo, but you know he prefers being called Hawks for security and emotional reasons.
"Care to tell me about this new adventure you apparently didn't invite me to?" Hawks asks, placing a hand dramatically over his chest as though you've personally wounded him. His voice carries enough exaggerated offense to make it clear he's enjoying himself far too much. "I thought I was your favorite birdie."
The grin he sends your way is nothing short of criminal. Heat immediately rushes to your face and of course, your skin emits a faint golden glow.
Unfortunately, Hawks notices everything.
"Wait, you are!" you blurt out without hesitation. "Who said you weren't?"
The words leave your mouth so quickly that you don't even realize what you've admitted until several seconds later. Your expression freezes.
Hawks' grin widens.
Years of being sheltered by an overprotective father has done absolutely nothing for your ability to recognize when someone is baiting you into a response. You would like to blame your upbringing, but the unfortunate truth is that you might simply be a little dense sometimes.
Hawks finds this endlessly entertaining. For a brief moment, something soft flickers across his face. His golden eyes linger on you with an expression that almost resembles fondness, it only lasts a second. Then the familiar confidence slides back into place.
"I know sunshine," he says, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. "Just checking my status."
Before you can protest, his arm settles comfortably around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer to his side. The gesture is casual enough to appear harmless, but you've known him long enough to recognize it for what it is: another method of preventing you from escaping.
Not that you'd ever tell him that.
"Now," Hawks continues, glancing down at you, "where exactly were you going before I intervened?"
You immediately look away. Your embarrassment must be obvious because Hawks' expression shifts into one of growing suspicion. You shuffle your feet. "I wanted to go to the arcade."
"Oh."
You narrow your eyes. "Oh?"
"A little outdated, isn't it?"
You gasp dramatically. "HEY!."
Hawks snickers. "It's true."
"Anyway," you continue, refusing to acknowledge that statement, "it's the only fun thing near home."
The admission comes out more pathetic than intended. Unfortunately, it also happens to be true.
Between your father's lingering protectiveness, the constant supervision that somehow follows you everywhere, your options for entertainment are surprisingly limited.
The arcade isn't amazing. Most of the machines are old. Half the prizes are terrible. The food is questionable. But it's close. And most importantly, it gives you a small taste of independence.
“Did you train today?" Hawks asks the question so casually that you immediately know he is about to annoy you.
"Yes," you groan dramatically, already regretting answering. The reaction earns a laugh from him.
"Just checking." He lifts both hands in mock surrender. "The U.A. entrance exam isn't exactly easy, sunshine. I need you to pass with an amazing score."
You narrow your eyes. "You only want me to pass so I can intern at your agency."
Hawks places a hand over his chest as though you've deeply offended him. "I can't believe you'd accuse me of something so manipulative."
"You have literally said it dozens of times."
"That sounds like a very rough estimate."
You let out a long sigh.
No matter how many years pass, Hawks remains absolutely convinced that recruiting you into his agency is the greatest idea ever conceived. Every accomplishment somehow circles back to how useful you would be as his intern. Every conversation about your future eventually becomes a recruitment campaign. At this point you're fairly certain he has an entire presentation prepared somewhere.
The worst part is that he isn't even subtle about it.
At least some things in your life are finally moving forward. You are eighteen now, legally an adult. The concept still feels strange after spending so many years waiting to grow up again. More importantly, you are finally eligible to enter U.A.
That discovery had nearly given you whiplash. Back in your previous life, you had always assumed U.A. was a high school. Finding out that this universe operates differently had been one of the most pleasant surprises imaginable. Apparently, society here collectively decided that handing military-grade combat training to fifteen-year-olds was a terrible idea. Instead, aspiring heroes attend university after reaching adulthood. Which means students are older, more experienced, and significantly less likely to be thrown into life-threatening situations before they're legally allowed to vote.
Honestly, it is one of the few changes from canon that you wholeheartedly support. The bar may be on the floor, but at least this version of society managed to step over it.
As for your bird friend, You have known Hawks for most of your life. What began as a rescue eventually turns into something far more permanent.
After the incident in the forest, when your quirk first awaken and nearly launched you into orbit, the winged boy who found you somehow keeps finding you again and again. At first, his visits were official. At least, that is what he claims. He would check on your quirk development, ask questions about your condition, and occasionally would deliver messages from people who worry about your tendency to accidentally float away whenever your emotions get the better of you.
Then the visits become less official and more frequent.At some point neither of you can really pinpoint when it happens, but Hawks simply becomes part of your life. He appears at birthdays, drops by unexpectedly and somehow learns your schedule despite nobody telling him.
You stop questioning it after a while. The realization that he can probably find you whenever he wants is mildly concerning, but after years of friendship it mostly becomes annoying. A very specific kind of annoying, the kind that only exists between people who care about each other.
Looking back, you think that is one of the reasons your friendship with Hawks grows so naturally. Because by the time he enters your life, there is already an empty space inside you. A space left behind by someone else.
Shoto.
Even years later, thinking about it still hurts more than you care to admit.
After your father moved the family away, you genuinely believed the distance would only be temporary. You and Shoto have spent years together. He is your first real friend.
Children move all the time, friendships survive it. At least, that is what you told yourself.
You wrote letters, lots of them. Some were short and simple, others rambled for pages about things that probably don't matter. And you waited for replies. None ever come.
At first you convinced yourself he was busy. Then you convinced yourself he simply forgot. None of those explanations made the silence hurt less.
Your father noticed. Katsuro has always been annoyingly good at noticing when something is wrong. He tried to help several times when he reached out to Enji. He attempted to arrange visits, playdates, anything that might allow the two of you to reconnect. Nothing ever comes from it.
You know what type of person Enji Todoroki is, there are countless reasons why those letters might never have reached Shoto. So instead of resentment, what remains is something far more painful, hope.
Now that U.A. is finally within reach, you find yourself thinking about him more often than usual.You just want your friend back.
Going back to reality, you step away from Hawks.
You manage exactly three steps away from the blonde man before a cluster of red feathers taps your shoulder, nudges your hip, and gently but decisively redirects you straight back into his chest.
"Now, now," he says as though you are the unreasonable one in this interaction. "I finally have a free evening and I intend to spend it with my favorite cosmic being."
"I have plans!" you protest, twisting in his grip and attempting to wriggle free.
"Nuh uh." The refusal is accompanied by the unmistakable sensation of your feet leaving the ground.
You look down just in time to realize that Hawks has started hovering upward while keeping one arm securely around your waist. Several feathers orbit lazily around you like smug red satellites, clearly prepared to catch you if you attempt another escape. Before you can formulate a better complaint, he kicks off into the air and the city drops away beneath you.
"Hawks!"
"Relax, sunshine."
The wind hits your face hard. Instinctively, you squeeze your eyes shut and raise a hand to shield them while the other grabs at the front of his jacket. Hawks notices immediately and laughs under his breath, the sound vibrating through his chest where you are currently trapped against him.
"You know, for someone who can float, you're surprisingly dramatic about altitude."
"Usually I’m the one in control of my movements!"
"Semantics."
He adjusts his hold slightly, one hand braced more firmly at your waist while the other guides your position with irritating ease. The movement is practiced enough to make you realize, not for the first time, that he has spent years catching you .
"You need more control," he says, his teasing tone softening into something closer to genuine instruction. "Your hovering gets unstable whenever your emotions spike, and if you're serious about hero work, I need you to be able to float without looking like you're negotiating with gravity."
"I can float just fine." You try to say it with confidence but it fades with every word. You groan and bury your face briefly against his shoulder, which unfortunately only makes him laugh harder.
"Also," Hawks continues, entirely too pleased with himself, "you're going to be my sidekick one day, and I refuse to let my future sidekick fail basic aerial control."
You jerk your head up. "Since when did I agree to that?!"
Hawks tilts his head, genuinely considering the question. "Somewhere between you being five and me rescuing you"
"That is not a legally binding contract!"
"It's emotionally binding. Much stronger."
"That's not how contracts work!"
"It is for me."
You open your mouth to argue further, then immediately clamp it shut when a stronger gust of wind blasts past. With a muttered curse, you cover your eyes again and hold onto his jacket instead. Hawks glances down at you, still smirking, but the arm around your waist tightens almost imperceptibly as he angles his body to block more of the wind.
Hawks gradually slows until he is hovering in place high above the city, his wings beating steadily. The sounds below seem distant from up here, reduced to little more than a muted hum while the evening sky stretches endlessly around you. For a moment neither of you says anything.
You already know that look. The moment you glance up, you find golden eyes fixed on you with unmistakable expectation.
Hawks raises an eyebrow.
You sigh. Years of flight lessons have taught you how to read him disturbingly well. He wants you to practice.
You roll your eyes but nod anyway.
Slowly, Hawks loosens his hold around your waist. Even as he does so, his attention never leaves you, every movement careful and measured. Despite all his teasing, he takes these lessons seriously. You know that if anything goes wrong, if your quirk fluctuates or your concentration slips, he'll catch you before you can even start falling.
Still, old habits die hard. As he releases you, your hand immediately reaches for his. His fingers close around yours without hesitation.
You drift a few feet away from him, suspended in the open air as you focus on the familiar sensation coursing through your body. A gentle glow begins spreading beneath your skin, illuminating your arms and face with soft golden light. The warmth gathers in your chest before flowing outward, becoming lighter and lighter until gravity's pull weakens around you.
Years ago the sensation had terrified you. Now it feels almost comforting.
You take a slow breath. For once, your emotions aren't dragging your quirk in ten different directions. Your body remains perfectly suspended in the air.
A smile spreads across your face. It's working. Eventually, you loosen your grip on Hawks' hand. His fingers linger for half a second before letting go completely.
You float independently, you move forward, then sideways, a gentle turn. a slow rise.Each motion is deliberate, controlled, and smooth.
When you glance back toward Hawks, you find him watching closely. His usual teasing expression or his smug grin gone. For once he simply looks proud.
The sight makes your chest feel unexpectedly warm. You straighten a little in the air and flash him a confident smile. "I'm going to be the best sidekick you've ever had." The declaration comes out with complete certainty.
Hawks lets out a quiet laugh, the sound is softer than usual. Hs smile mirrors yours.
"I don't doubt that for a second, sunshine."
Unknown to you, someone had been waiting for you at the arcade.
He had arrived nearly an hour ago, long before you were supposed to show up, and had settled into a corner where he could easily observe the entrance without attracting attention to himself. Not that anyone would have paid him much attention anyway. Most people were too busy with flashing screens, noisy machines, and their own conversations to notice a quiet young man sitting alone.
Across the arcade, a claw machine catches his attention for a brief moment. The sight immediately reminds him of you. Mostly because you are terrible at them. His eyes return to the entrance, still nothing. The arcade continues operating around him, oblivious to his presence and even more oblivious to the fact that he has spent months catching occasional glimpses of you from afar.
His gaze drifts once more toward the entrance as another group of teenagers walks through the doors. You aren’t there. A familiar feeling settles heavily in his chest, disappointment.
His fingers move toward his neck automatically.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.