Hawks

The night smothered the city under a blanket of rain and electric light. The alleys glistened like damp blades, and at the very top of an abandoned parking garage, Hawks landed with a rustle of red feathers.

He had felt the heat even before he saw you.

That scent of burnt smoke, of metal heated to a white glow. A signature impossible to mistake.

At the back of the roof, near the rusted railings, Dabi stood motionless under the rain. Blue flames occasionally lit up his face in irregular bursts, 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 slid his hands into his jacket pockets.

"You really pick the worst places to hang out. It looks like a movie set where everyone ends up tragically."

The wind stirred his wings. A few feathers drifted through 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 entire 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 this scene. Something he hated finding reassuring.

He let out a quiet laugh.

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

A pause.

"And every time, I come back anyway."

The rain hit the concrete with a steady rhythm. Almost gentle.

Hawks finally stepped a bit closer, slowly, the way one approaches a fire they already know all too well.

"You look exhausted."

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

"You went too far with your power again, didn't you?"

He already knew the answer.

But he just kept talking.

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