Hawks has always considered himself rather lucky. After all, not everyone got the glorious Birdseye view of Japan.
Not everyone could feel the euphoria of wind in the feathers, the joy that came with actually flying .
What good was the ground when you could be up and soaring with the clouds?
Hawks kissed the stars, he hugged the sun. The birds were his best friends under the faithful illumination of the glittering moon.
It was beautiful.
Being above the world instead of in the fray gave Hawks a type of maturity most twenty-two year olds wouldn’t have. And Hawks would like to say he’s done pretty well for himself.
He’s got an apartment and he isn’t bankrupt, what more is there to say?
Because, despite his status at the number two Hero, his exceptional skills don’t make him an exception. In most parts of Hero work, skill could substitute for experience, and you would be fine.
But in terms of pay and work hours? Not so much. Even while being no 2. The Hero Commission takes his pay check and rips it to shreds and Hawks just tries to catch the scraps.
You see, the older heroes get sort of a privilege for staying alive so long. The “newbies” are the poor children that get stuck on marathon shifts. They are the poor children who basically own the agencies coffee machine.
And they are the poor, poor bastards who get paid the least. (Which is still an okay amount if you’re not bound by another contract with The Hero Commision.)
And it doesn’t matter that Hawks has his own agency! It doesn’t matter that he’s in the top ten and has worked closely with almost all of the other high profile heroes! He doesn’t give himself work hours or the paycheck, so he’s stuck hauling ass at three AM just to get called in again at five. Fuck the Hero Commision.
At least Rumi has to deal with it too, even if it’s on a somewhat lesser scale.
So despite his maturity, Hawks still sometimes fails at taking care of himself. Here are five instances some older heroes had to drop in to help out and one time Hawks could do everything all by himself.
One. Best Jeanist.
It had been a long day for Hawks.
He worked marathon shifts, all three twelve hours each, and at this point he’s pretty sure his bloodstream is pure caffeine.
He’s bruised, he’s sore, and he’s hungry. But he is also broke. Those do not make for a pleasant combination. So, it’s forgivable that he wasn’t in the best mood when he tramped into his dying apartment building. He opened his rotting door, and sighed.
“Really Rumi?” The woman in question just laughed, wine glass balanced precariously in her fingers. “And with my glasses too?”
“Don’t act so offended, your glasses are shit.”
“Then why are you using them!?”
“Because Takeyama took mine. She won’t tell me where she hid them.”
Hawks sighed. “You ever think that she hid them because you have a drinking problem?” He let his bag drop down to his crumbling island.
“No, why would I think that?” She took another sip.
“How many glasses have you had since you’ve been here?”
She looked down. “Not that many.”
“ Rumi .”
“Fine! Fine, I’ve had four. But! It’s from my bottle so I don’t get what the big deal here is!”
“The big deal is that you’ve had four glasses of wine in what? An hour?”
“Half an hour.” She muttered into the glass.
“Half an hour, while you were sitting alone in my apartment because someone took away your wine glasses! Do you see nothing wrong with this situation?”
“Yes.” And Rumi took another sip. Hawks just sighed in frustration. “Look, if its about me still being fit and healthy or whatever, take a look at yourself! In the three years I’ve known you, I have only seen you eat KFC and take out. So, stop harping on me about it.” She tipped her glass up and downed the whole thing,
“The fact that you just drank all of that in one swing concerns me.”
“Your face concerns me.”
“That was uncalled for.”
“Your face is uncalled for.” They heated stared at each other, neither backing down.
There was a knock on the door.
“Hello, Hawks? I heard this was your apartment.”
Rumi looked over at him with wide eyes. “Why the fuck is Best Jeanist knocking on your door!?”
“The hell if I know!”
She glanced at the door once more. “Dude, let him in . He’s the number three Hero and you're just leaving him on your doorstep!”
Hawks stopped to simply stare at her. “Rumi, I’m the number two.”
“Yeah? And I respect Jeanie more than I respect you. Get the goddamn door.” Hawks sighed, and stumbled over to his door before pulling it open.
“Jeanist.” He said politely, because despite what Rumi said he could be polite .
“Oh hello Hawks. Miruko, pleasant surprise to see you here.” Best Jeanist nodded in recognition at Rumi. He turned his attention back to Hawks. “I was in the area and a few of my sidekicks found some evidence for a case you’re working-and I’m sorry, but is that alcohol I’m smelling?” Best Jeanist seemed to be sniffing the air.
“That would be Rumi.” Hawks said, ignoring her loud, disgruntled squawk.
Best Jeanist gazed upon the young woman, radiating disapproval. “That is very unbecoming of a young, high-ranked Hero, Miruko.”
“ You’re unbecoming of a high-ranked Hero.”
Jeanist looked diginfiedly indignant, eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “ Excuse me ?”
Hawks cackled from behind him. “Wait for it…..”
Rumi seemed to come to her senses. “Shit, did I just say that?”
Hawks grinned at her. “Yup.”
“To Best Jeanist ?”
She sighed. “How much do I need to drink to die of alcohol poisoning?”
Hawks just grinned at her. “Remember, you, and I quote, ‘respect Jeanie more than you respect me.’”
Best Jeanist shook out of his stupor. “Binge drinking like that not only compromises your public image and inhibitions, it compromises your health! The sheer amount of unused carbs.” Hawks giggles at Best Jeanist lecture. At this rate, Jeanist would take himself and Miruko out of the picture and Hawks could sleep while dealing with the slight problem of being broke and out of food.
At least, until Best Jeanist turned his sharp glare to Hawks. “And you , enabling her!”
“Hey, she broke into my apartment to use my wine glasses because Mt. Lady took hers! Don’t look at me for this!”
“Excuses, excuses. Miruko is ruining her health and you’re not stopping her.”
It was Rumi’s turn to look moderately offended. “Hey, you can’t talk about me ruining my health! This asshole eats fast food everyday.”
Jeanist turned his eyes in Hawks. “Hawks, what’s in your fridge right now?”
Best Jeanist stalked over to his fridge and flung it open.
Empty take out boxes. There were only empty take out boxes in his fridge.
Best Jeanist rubbed his nose. “You two, come with me” and stormed out of Hawks apartment.
Hawks sighed and picked up his keys.
“Oh my God,” Hawks said with his mouth full of food. “This is delicious, thanks Jeanie.”
“Chew with your mouth closed. Do us all a favor and at least pretend you can be taken into public please and thank you.”
“Ooh.” Rumi reaches over for the wine menu.
“No.” Best Jeanist didn’t even look at her as he slapped her hand away. “You have a drinking problem and it’s unbecoming of a Hero.”
Hawks looked over at Jeanist. “Hey, seriously Jeanie-“
“Mouth closed, Hawks. Then you may speak.”
He swallowed sheepishly. “Really Jeanie, thank you.” Hawks stared a Rumi, who just shrugged indignantly.
Jeanist just turned his head the other way. “Well, I couldn’t have you two’s childish behavior reflect badly on the rest of the top ten.”
If Jeanist’s cheeks were a little too pink for that statement, then no one said anything.
Two. All Might.
Hawks didn’t have the normal, run of the mill hero childhood. There was no stress over schools or exams or crushes on the top ten. No sports festivals or practicals.
His was white walls and white rooms. Training everyday from six to ten, schoolwork, more training, and then everything he knew to be the newest symbol of peace. (Hawks wasn’t dumb , the Hero Commision took him to replace All Might when he dies/retires. After all, even All Might can’t live forever).
But, when he was let out of his prison and into the world in an epic Tangled moment, he was instantly enraptured to All Might like Rapunzel to the lanterns.
Hawks had seen the dark side of the hero world. Beyond greed and corruption and addiction and lies. Beyond the superficial obsession over outfits and money.
He’d experienced the abuse, the competition, the pain. The corporate overlords (AKA the Hero Commision) who pulled almost everyone’s strings with flashy powers and publicized fights. Glorification of a trade that was blood and sweat and tears. Where everyone lied behind their teeth and the drama was like in a reality TV show, All Might was a breath of fresh air.
A man who saved to save . Not to make big bucks easy. He was flashy-yes, but he didn’t have an underlying agenda.
Hawks loved it.
All Might was just so pure . He was nice and gave time to the younger, newer heroes. All the new heroes had an All Might Moment.
For some, it was after fights. They were sidekicks, and All Might would tell them about how well they did. They would connect like people and not like figures.
For Rumi, it was after she had first broke the top twenty. Female heroes in higher ranks weren’t all that common, and they got tons of backlash.
She had just finished fighting in a relatively small-scale widespread attack. All of the villains were apprehended with minimal property damage and injuries. It was a well fought battle that turned out almost perfectly, partially thanks to Rumi.
Not everyone came to the same conclusion.
“Hey! Hey you, bitch in the lingerie with the thighs!” Rumi was just talking to another one of the heroes, but turned around when she heard the man yelling. “What the fuck was that!? That was shit!” The man started walking until he was in her face. “Little girl running around in her bunny underwear, just asking for it. You can protect us! Your stupid fucking hormones caused property damage and injuries. Leaves this to the real heroes and go home, little girl.”
Hawks has had it explained to him that when confronted with these types of sexist accusations and heckling, generally the female heroes aren’t supposed to say anything back, and Rumi was a young hero who made the top twenty at twenty one, and was on track to make top ten in the next couple years. It was rare to be in the position she was in, especially at her age, and she couldn’t jeopardize that.
Hawks hated it. Rumi just told him that was how the industry worked.
But Hawks wasn’t the only one who hated it.
“I suggest you stop making such hurtful and incorrect claims to Miruko, who’s efforts today clearly stopped a bigger catastrophe.”
The man didn’t look at the looming figure who had landed behind him. Instead, the man scoffed at Rumi and said, “Is that your boyfriend? I bet you only got to where you are because you slept with him, whore .”
“No, I’m not her boyfriend. And I think we would appreciate if you stopped calling Miruko by those terrible names.”
“Yeah, and who’s gonna stop me, All Might?” The man turned around and stopped dead in his tracks. “ All Might !?”
“Yes! I am here!” But it wasn’t the normal kind All Might everyone knew, this time he was colder. “And we are going to have to ask you to leave the premises.”
The man sprinted like his life depended on it.
Next time she saw him (which was that year’s top ten listings), Rumi bought All Might a drink.
Hawks’ All Might moment was a little less dramatic, and All Might was a little less All Might.
Somehow, Hawks has gotten a miracle day off after working his sixth overtime of the week. And he was ready, he called Rumi, he went to the hardware store, he was going to finally paint his apartment.
“Took you long enough.” Rumi had said. “Where are your shit wine glasses.”
“Rumi, you’re sober.” She just groaned and walked to his flaking wall.
“Telling you I joined an AA group was a mistake. But, it’s good you’re finally painting this dump, I thought I’d have to stare at this ugly ass white until the day I died.”
“Ha ha Rumi, very funny.” Hawks walked over to the paint bucket. “Grab a roller and paint.”
They worked like that for a couple hours, until he heard a hesitant knock on his door.
“All Might?!” Hawks stared at the frail man in his doorway. He’d seen the retired Symbol of Peace at various hero events but never said more than a few words.
“Hello Hawks, I am here! To help with the painting, if you would let me.” He had a bag of something in his hand and a smile on his face. Hawks looks quizzically back at Rumi.
“I invited him, come in All Might and pick up a roller. I trust you’ve done this before.” Rumi walked passed Hawks. “He’s a lonely man who needed something to do on the weekends, let him help Hawks.”
Hawks wasn’t going to reject All Might helping with his house, but….. “Isn’t he a teacher?”
“He can't teach all the time Bird Brain.”
And that was that. The former Symbol Of Peace was painting his shitty one-bedroom apartment. If eighteen year-old Hawks could see himself now, he would screech in joy.
“So, All Might, how’s retirement?”
They painted the rest in silence. Hawks didn’t know what to say to the man. All Might was his hero, just not his hero hero.
Hawks found him inspiring but couldn’t form the emotional connection to the man that so many others had.
Rumi’s phone buzzed. “Well, boys that’s my cue to leave, have fun.”
“Have fun at AA!”
“Fuck you Hawks, really. You don’t get to see my coin.”
“Damn it Rumi, you’ve killed my dreams.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
All Might looked over. “Have a wonderful night, Young Miruko.” Rumi nodded at the man.
“ See . Hawks take some lessons, that’s how you talk to people.” And she shut the door considerably harder than necessary.
It was just him and All Might.
All Might turned towards him, and Hawks somehow felt smaller regardless of the older man’s skinny stature. “Thank you.” He said sincerely and Hawks had never been more confused.
“For letting you do manual labor? Gee, All Might I knew you had retired but I didn’t think you’d be that bored.”
All Might kept looking at him. Hawks felt awkward. “Thank you for stepping up in my absence. The people need a hero and you gave them one. Thank you.”
“Oh, uh. Thanks? I guess.”
“Stop selling yourself short. People are reacting to you like how they reacted when I first got big.”
“I doubt that.”
“You’ll see.” The frail man just smiled. “Your a great hero, you’ll make it.”
And all Hawks could do was smile back, because the hero of all heroes had just given him something he didn’t know he had lost: hope.
Hawks has not eaten in twelve hours, seven minutes, and twenty four seconds.
He was starving.
Today had been a relatively normal day. A fight with the Hero Commision. Coffee. A big bad fight. Coffee. Some fan encounters. Coffee. A bank robbery. Coffee, coffee, coffee .
Hawks actually wasn’t one hundred percent sure how much caffeine is in his bloodstream, and honestly, he didn’t want to know.
But all of that brought him up to this point. Another big bad fight.
The villain, a girl with a melting quirk, was going around melting buildings. Which wouldn’t have been an issue, if they weren’t, you know, buildings.
People were, quite literally, drifting away because of work. Hawks got doused in some liquid brick and still isn’t sure how he feels about it. Besides hungry.
He was just about to swoop down and make another daring rescue, when he heard a voice.
“Hey, ya all gonna be alright as long as ya listen, okay? All ya on my back.” Hawks looked down.
What was Fatgum doing there?
The hero’s large body was floating in the building, with civilians on his back. He swam them to a dry spot where they were conducting an evacuation.
Another building went down, Hawks needed to finish this.
And eat. He was so fucking hungry.
The woman laughed. “You like me now Kejiro?! You think I’m crazy now?!!”
Yes , thought Hawks, I do think you’re pretty damn crazy.
Instead of saying that, he said, “I’m not Kejiro.”
“ LIAR! ” Screeched the woman. “Damn you Kejiro, you fucking liar!”
She’s batshit crazy.
Thankfully, the womans little, episode , slowed her down so Hawks could throw a feather at her. It hit her shin and she went down.
Hawks flew down to the evacuation center, his stomach growling loudly.
“Hey, Hawks! Ya mind waitin’ a second? I wanna talk to ya.” Fatgum was covered in the building sludge, but the most noticeable part was the beaming smile on his face.
“Sure, Fat. Whatcha need?”
“Well, I-” He was interrupted by an unholy growl. “Was that yer stomach there, Hawks?”
“Uh, no.” Hawks stomach let out another satanic moan.
“I think that's yer stomach, when's the last time ya ate kid?”
“...seven hours ago.”
“ Seven? Kid, ya need some food, come with me. Suneater!” The lanky teenager’s hood turned in their direction. “Yer in charge of evacuations. Good job and I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Suneater mumbled, and then promptly turned to the policeman in front of him.
Fatgum looked at Hawks. “Come on kid, I know all the good places, I promise.”
Hawks regrets not eating earlier, because he had forgotten how glorious food was.
“Thanks Fat.” Hawks garbled through his fried chicken. The older man just laughed.
“Ya gotta keep yourself fed, kid. ‘Specially in this field of work.”
“Yeah.” Hawks looked up. “You wanted to talk to me about something.”
“Oh, right. So you know my intern, Suneater-”
“Well, I think you should get one.”
Hawks swallowed his chicken. “A Suneater or intern, because if it’s Suneater I’ve got some bad news for you buddy.”
Fat laughed. “Nah, nah. An intern. Amajiki’s been tellin’ me about some of the first years this year, and I heard about one you might wanna take on.”
“They don’t have their provisional licenses?”
“No. But that's more of a guideline. A lot of heroes take on interns after the sports festival.”
“Yeah, everybody does that. I dunno why you’re telling me about it, specifically.”
Fat crouched down a little, so he was closer to Hawks height. “What I mean is some people take ‘em for longer. So they’re already with the agency when they get their licenses. It’s what I did for Amajiki.”
“So that’s how you get him.”
“And Amajiki says there’s this kid in 1A who might need a little bird-mentoring.”
Hawks looked up from his food. “What’s his name?”
Midnight and charity were two things that Hawks always assumed would never mix.
Looks like he was wrong.
Midnight had her own booth, right next to his, where she was signing autographs and chatting pleasantly with fans. They were giggling and loud and rambunctious, and Hawks decided he really needed to rethink his biases about fanbases because wow , the 18+ heroes fans are committed.
He saw a surprising amount of young woman, around his age maybe, that must’ve been just kids when Midnight first rose to fame. He also found an unsurprising amount of men, gazing leeringly at her costume.
Hawks’ fans were a lot of children. A few college students, and a bunch of middle schoolers that thought he was the hottest shit since Beyonce's last album. Which was gratifying to say the least. At least someone appreciated his humor.
Hawks very discreetly pulled out his phone and tapped on his messaging app.
By my count, I've got more children flocking to my nest than yours
One just called my their favorite behind Beyonce
Has anyone told you your an asshole
A cannibalistic, fucking asshole
chickens arent worthy of my praise
hows AA going, btw
Hawks was giggling at his phone when a man came up to his stand. He looked about forty, which wouldn't have been suspicious except for the absence of children. But Hawks wasn't going to judge. You liked who you liked, and he doesn't judge.
He prepared his sales pitch. "What's up! Welcome to my stand, part of the Japanese Chernobyl Foundation Line Up! Get an autograph for 7500 yen, and all of the profit goes to the charity." The man just looked at him, and Hawks was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. "The Japanese Chernobyl Foundation is a-" the staring persisted "-a humanitarian organization that largely provided medical care to children." The man kept staring, and Hawks had a bad feeling about him. "The foundation is a certified non-profit-"
"Wh-what?" Hawks asked, gobsmacked.
"You're beautiful." The man repeated. "Has anyone ever told you that."
He stayed silent.
The man took that as an answer. "Well, you should hear it more. When you're saving people, it's breathtaking. Your wings, so strong." The man picked up the card on Hawks desk, which was basically his sales pitch but in writing. "A children non-profit, how nice of you Hawks."
The man saying his name sent an uncontrolled shiver down Hawks spine. He didn't usually have to deal with these type of people.
"Sir, if you aren't going to donate, I'm going to have to ask you to move along down the stalls, please."
"N-no?!" Hawks squeaked, extremely out of his element.
Three words he never through he'd utter in a sentence.
"Excuse me sir." Hawks got up, and walked to Midnight's booth. Safe.
"Thank you, for earlier."
They were taking down their booths, the day finally over.
"It was no problem, really. Plus, its not the first time I've had to save one of my friends from a creepy fan." Midnight had stopped disassembling her table, and was starting to fold it up.
Hizashi, Hizashi, Hiza-
"Yep. It was in our earlier debut's, and this girl just wouldn't stop bugging him. So I called him over and we talked shit about her in english."
Hawks lifted up his table, getting ready to carry it out. "And she didn't understand you?"
Midnight laughed. "Oh no, she did. Turns out english was her favorite subject in school, so she knew every damn thing we said about her. Her expression was priceless."
Hawks laughed along the older hero. "But seriously, thank you."
Midnight just smiled at him. "No problem, kid. No problem at all."
Hawks, as expected, did not do a large amount of undercover work. It was probably due to his training primarily useful in big, flashy fights.
Or, you know, wings. Either of the two are pretty valid reasons.
Which is why it was relatively strange when Hawks took and undercover mission with Eraserhead, a legend in his own right, that worked primarily underground. Aizawa had a record mission count, beating the top number of rescues by miles. But, his lack of flashy agency and his label as underground kept him out of the ranks.
Big, famous, and the spotlight wasn't for everyone, Hawks supposed.
Last week, Hawks had traced down one of his larger villains, Gore-Bringer, a local big, flashy, bad guy, to being at the forefront of, you guessed it, an illegal quirk trafficking ring. Quirk trafficking was basically human trafficking, but the unwilling participants were kidnapped because of their quirk, where they were shoved into illegal quirk marriages, or, even worse, a Quirk Ranch.
A Quirk Ranch, in Hawks opinion, is one of the most tragic, disgusting things to ever grace the earth. People in the Quirk Ranches were almost always sold from quirk trafficking rings, and forced to unwillingly reproduce in the hopes that their child had a strong quirk.
If they did, the child would be sold to the highest bidder. Sometimes, they would luck out and it would just be a bunch of greedy parents trying to get a child with a strong quirk. They were easy to track down, and get the child into child services.
The other times, though? Mob bosses, child soldiers and child armies. Babies sold into labor to build weapons, toddlers crafting terrorist devices.
Hawks could only thank whatever higher power that was out there that the idea of the rings and ranches were relatively new, so he wasn't about to stumble upon hundreds of teenaged warriors. This years hero students are enough with the adult villains, no need to add in brainwashed adolescents into the mix.
Unfortunately, there was the beginnings of a ring in Hawks neighborhood, and he wasn't going to let that stand. So, Eraserhead/Hawks Ultimate Team Up!
But there was one slight problem.
"Okay, issuing rendezvous spot change. I'll tell Hawks. Over." The man turned towards Hawks, his long hair billowing in the windy night. "Vampire has an old enemy that would recognize her in there, so we're switching with her and Eclipse as infiltration. Undercover, you can call me Shouta. It's easiest if we use first names so we don't fuck it up. What's yours?"
This is where Hawks current problem stood. See, The Hero Commission had him since very early childhood, and has only ever called him Hawks. So, technically, Hawks didn't have a real name. Only his hero name.
Which most likely wasn't going to cut it for undercover work.
Eraserhead, Shota, glared at him. "We don't have all day kid. It's a simple question. What's your name?" Hawks swallowed, and Shota seemed to take that as a sign. "Look, I won't go sell your name to all the tabloids. Your secrets safe with me."
Names, names? What names do Hawks know?
"Riku!" He said, louder than necessary. But hey, he just came up with his first fake name. "My name's Riku."
Shota just looked at him weirdly. "Okay then. Riku, lets go bust the front."
Hawks vows to avoid underground work with his heart and soul.
The operation didn't go bad. It went remarkably well. The two assisting heroes, who were apparently at Eraserhead's agency, were very helpful in getting the ring shut down. Eraserhead said it was a smaller sub-ring in a larger operation.
Nope. Hawks thought one bust was mentally scarring enough. Seeing people in cages, reduced to nothing as they were sold like objects. Used only for their quirks.
It was a startling parallel to his own story that dredged up emotions Hawks was going to bury until he died. He doesn't have the money for the amount of therapists that would need to help him work through all of his childhood.
But, the bust was over. The day was done. Hawks should be able to go home.
Eraserhead was staring at him and it was kind of psyching Hawks out.
"Hawks." Oh no. He was calling to Hawks. This is a problem.
"Yes?" Hawks walked up to the older pro.
"Riku isn't your name, is it kid?"
Hawks sighed. "How'd you know?"
"Hesitated. It was longer than if you just didn't want to share. Plus, you kind of just blurted it out kid."
"Yeah, guess I did."
Eraserhead looked over him critically. "You wanna share the story? I'm not gonna judge, can't really in my line of work."
"Not much to tell. I was taken in and trained by The Hero Commission ever since I was really young. Didn't see much need for names."
"Whats your house under, then?"
"The Commission." Hawks laughed bitterly. "I'm under their hand till the day I die."
"That bites, kid." Eraser just looked into the night. "Sora." He said, still staring.
"You need a name, I'm giving you one. Sora."
"Sora." The new name sounded slightly more foreign on his tongue than Hawks, no, Sora, would like, but hey.
He had a lifetime to get used to it.
"You gotta do it with more confidence, kid." Tokoyami just made a clucking sound, once again throwing Dark Shadow haphazardly into the air.
Hawks has been on the airfield for a number of hours, trying (and failing) to get his newly acquired intern to try flying.
Tokoyami was no where as enthused as Hawks was in this predicament. In fact, he looked positively unhappy.
Why did Hawks ever listen to Fatgum and get a full-time intern? He could've waited until after their summer break to grab new blood, but noooooo. Hawks just had to listen to his trusted older friend.
"Tokoyami, you've got to throw up dark shadow, and use him to fly. Its trust."
Hawks swore he heard the teenager mutter, "easy for you to say."
"Okay! Lets have some break time, shall we?" Tokoyami walked over to his water bottle, and sat down.
"Flying is a privilege that is not meant for me, I am meant to stay an earthly being. It is unwise to fight the truth of fate, Hawks."
Hawks bit into his fried chicken. "Not true kid. Sometimes, you just need a little extra help."
"Pro heroes don't need help. I am just vanquished to the ground."
Hawks shook his head. "Lemme tell you about this time with Best Jeanist.........."
By the end of the session, Tokoyami could stay in the air for five seconds.
It was a start.