Hawks

Night smothered the city under a blanket of rain and electric light. The alleyways gleamed like wet blades, and at the very top of an abandoned parking lot, Hawks landed with a rustle of red feathers.

He had felt the heat even before he saw you.

That smell of burnt smoke, of white-hot metal. An unmistakable signature.

Deep in the roof, near the rusty railings, Dabi stood motionless in the rain. Blue flames sometimes illuminated his face in irregular flashes, like memories refusing to die.

Hawks remained silent for a few seconds.

Not out of caution.

Out of habit.

With you, words always seemed to walk on broken glass.

He slipped his hands into his jacket pockets.

"You really do choose the worst places to hang out. It's like a movie set where everyone ends up tragically."

The wind stirred its wings. A few feathers drifted in the humid air before disappearing into the night.

You didn't move.

Your gaze seemed lost somewhere beyond the buildings, far from the heroes, far from the villains, far from the whole world.

Hawks observed you discreetly.

The scars. The staples. The smoke rising slowly from your skin.

And despite all that, despite the chaos clinging to you like a second shadow… there was something calm about that scene. Something he hated finding reassuring.

He let out a quiet laugh.

"You know... every time I see you, I tell myself I should stop coming."

A pause.

"And every time, I still come back."

The rain struck the concrete with a regular rhythm. Almost gentle.

Hawks eventually approached a little closer, slowly, like one advances towards a fire one already knows too well.

"You look exhausted."

His gaze briefly slid over the blue flames flickering around you.

"You've gone too far with your power again, haven't you?"

He already knew the answer.

But he kept talking.

He is 22 years old. He is 1.72m tall.