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Natsu watches the broadcast very decidedly non-stoically.
He tries to watch, but the ringing in his ears has blocked out everything from Touya forward.
He can’t breathe until Touya’s hurt disappears in the chaos of the heroes’ victory. He hates how Touya being hurt brings him relief; he wishes he could be happy that he was alive. And… he hates that he kind of is happy he’s alive, even though he hurt Shouto. His hearing comes back in, and he gets past the mental block that’s making him gag instead of breathe. His open backpack had slipped out of hands and onto the floor and his books are spilled over the tile of the cafeteria.
“No,” he hears, “I think just… don’t touch him? Leave him alone maybe, someone already tried.”
On the flat screen above the table, the news shows Endeavor stumble against Shouto’s friend before cutting to the same monster villain it’s been showing all day: the leader of the League of Villain’s and All for One’s successor, the reason they’d cancelled classes. He’s been listening to the news in the background all day while he tried to study, throwing himself into memorizing privacy laws to take his mind off of Shouto.
He’s leaving now, though; he needs to be alone.
Because Shouto’s name is still coming up, he streams the news on the walk to his apartment. He hears the name of Shouto’s soulmate, and his heart aches.
As soon as he’s back, he pulls it up on his laptop to watch the footage.
It’s switched from footage of general destruction and emptiness to footage of Hawks.
“That’s your Number Two Hero,” a villain sneers. Dabi—Touya? Dabi. The villain who attacked Shouto at his summer camp, not the brother he still loves. Natsu hates him.
On the screen, Hawks snaps around and the camera catches his face as blood droplets flick off of the feather sword in his hand. His eyes are sharp and deadly.
“He’s just killed someone. And I bet he never shared this with any of you: his real name is Takami Keigo. His father is a villain that Endeavor arrested—he’s not as pure and heroic as he’d like you to think. And here—let me show you something else.”
The screen flashes to show one of Dabi’s boots stepping on Hawks’s back. He’s face down and his wings are gone. Natsu thinks he’s unconscious at first, but no—his hands twitch weakly at the ground, trying to push himself up from under Dabi’s foot.
Oh God. He’s going to kill him on national television. Natsu’s brother is going to kill Hawks, and Natsu’s going to watch. Or listen, anyway—he’s turned from the screen, doesn’t want to see.
“He’s my soulmate.”
Dabi is a villain and a murderer. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say he’s a liar as well. Hawks’s soulmate can’t be a villain.
“Right here. Look, there’s my name. Ah, maybe you can’t see. He’s pretty burnt. Skeptic, zoom in.”
A pause, and Natsu puts his face in his hands.
“Right here, that’s my name. Todoroki Touya.”
Natsu’s head snaps up.
Dabi has his knee sticking into Hawks’s back and is gesturing to a burned splotch. Most of Hawks’s shirt is burned away, and what little bit is left is smoldering as Dabi holds it out of the way to show Todoroki Touya, and Natsu’s ears are ringing again but he needs to hear what Dabi says next and forces his breath to come in heaves instead of sputters. It doesn’t stop the ringing, but it does stop the black that’s closing in on his vision enough for him to see that the camera’s been toppled and is surrounded by blue flame.
Natsu can’t help but cry.
Touya’s alive, he tried to kill Shouto, he’s a villain, and he just killed his own soulmate on live television.
When they were younger, Touya was forbidden from searching for his soulmate when the mark showed up. Takami, like the villain Endeavor had just arrested. Now, Touya’s the villain. Maybe, if Endeavor had let them find Hawks, he could have saved Touya. Now, Hawks is dead and Touya looks like he’s trying to be.
Natsu, of course, had gone behind Touya’s back anyway and looked for his soulmate. Back then, so young, there wasn’t much he could do, but he’d thought Touya needed someone else to rely on other than just him.
And Natsu had needed something to distract him from his own missing soulmate.
Hawks isn’t dead after all. In fact, there are several people sitting outside of Hawks’s hospital room. A few of Shouto’s friends and some pro heroes, including Best Jeanist who’s apparently still alive. Natu’s relieved for that, he supposes. Or maybe he would be if he could be bothered to care. He’s got other things on his mind right now.
It’s Hawks’s first day of being able to receive visitors, and the others have more of a right to be here than he does, but he’d rather be here than visiting his father, and someone needs to apologize for Touya. The others come out looking sad, and Shouto’s bird friend has tears in his eyes. Natsu’s the last to go in, probably the only one there that Hawks doesn’t actually know. Maybe it’s not a good time, though, with how sad everyone looks coming out.
But someone needs to, and Endeavor sure as hell won’t.
“Todoroki? Natsuo? You’re good to come in.”
Hawks is sitting up in bed and texting furiously. He nods to Natsu without even looking and continues to type.
“Hi…?”
Hawks glances up and stops texting with one bandaged hand to flap it at him, but the other hand doesn’t stop.
His arms are bandaged from the elbow down, but the rest of him isn’t. He’s in a sleeveless hospital gown, the kind that ties but is open in the back, and Natsu can see just how burnt he is—bubbly scabs winding from his cheek, under a neck brace, and down his shoulder and arm, disappearing underneath the gown.
There are no wings, and he wonders if this is why Shouto’s friend came out crying.
The automated voice of Hawks’s cell phone with its weird inflection says, “Todoroki Natsuo. It’s nice to meet you. Nice of you to visit me. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Natsu’s not here to make small talk, but he’s not going to be rude. He has the absent and half-realized thought that he’s been pretty desensitized to celebrities, growing up as a Todoroki.
“How are you healing?” Natsu asks.
Hawks taps at his neck brace, then tap-tap-taps on his phone. “Can’t talk still. But maybe soon smiley face.” He throws up a hand and rolls his eyes at the phone saying the emoticon out loud, but he’s smiling.
It’s kind of… cute—for lack of a better word—how expressive Hawks is. And he doesn’t look depressed or sad in the slightest. “Glad to hear you’re doing better. And your wings?”
Hawks’s smile brightens and he shoots Natsu a thumbs up before typing. “No sign of them yet, docs say probably not, but I can feel them. They’ll come back.”
Natsu looks at his bright smile and incessant hope and wonders if this is why the others had looked so bleak. He can feel his own eyes starting to prickle and needs to give himself a moment before addressing the soulmate thing. He doesn’t think reminding Hawks of the bad would help him at all, if he’s found solace in pretending.
Hawks’s phone barges on while Natsu has his crisis. “So are you here to talk to me about your brother or about your father?”
And… he’s not going to lie to Hawks. “My brother. Touya.”
“I figured. What do you want to know?”
“I- What? I don’t want to know anything.” Hawks is already typing again, but Natsu continues. “I don’t want anything to do with him, to be honest.”
Hawks is maybe deleting what he was typing—it’s possible he’s highlighting what he’d already typed. And then, “That’s probably for the best. He’s not going to back down.” He stops to type again. “Plus, he’s a total dick.”
Natsu can imagine Hawks’s voice saying that part, he’s a total dick, in the same joking-but-not tone he used to rile everyone up at the billboards, towering over his father and commanding the entire audience with the imposing stature of his wings.
He compares that Hawks to the Hawks in front of him now, and, actually, finds that they’re about the same. This Hawks looks smaller, frailer, tireder. But he has that big smile and the same glint in his eye. Huh. Maybe, even if his wings don’t come back, he’ll be okay after all.
Natsu bows. “I’m not here to ask a question. I’m here to apologize. Please accept my apology for my brother. I can’t believe he- to his own soulmate—”
He’s interrupted by Hawks clearing his throat, and he looks up without pulling out of his bow. Hawks is holding onto the unclasped neck brace in his lap. “Hey,” he rasps, and it sounds like sandpaper.
“Should you be—”
“Ssshhh” Hawks says, holding up his hand to stop him. “It’s not your fault. And I never cared about soulmates anyway. Thanks. For visiting.”
Natsu stands straight again, thinking that the ones leaving distraught or in tears hadn’t really looked or listened.
Hawks is in Endeavor’s hospital room a couple of days later, wearing a baggy sweatsuit and bandages over almost his entire face. In the same 2-minute span, he glares scathingly at Endeavor and then tells him he’ll support him and that the world needs heroes more than ever. Natsu agrees with all of that except the supporting Endeavor part.
Natsu jogs to catch back up with him. “Hawks, hey!”
Hawks lifts his hand halfway in a wave.
“You’re not going back out there, are you? Already?”
Hawks smiles and tap-taps. “Got work to do.”
Natsuo’s a little annoyed when Endeavor invites his little Top-Three hero team to use the Todoroki home as their base. Natsuo’s not there all the time, but every time there’s a family dinner, he grits his teeth and goes. Fuyumi wants him there, and he wants to support her, and he won’t leave Shouto alone again. Now that his mother’s going to be there, he has an even bigger responsibility.
He doesn’t knock, just slips out of his shoes and into his still-stiff house slippers.
Things sound livelier; he hears Jeanist’s clipped tone, then Endeavor’s deep rumbling chuckle. He almost forgets to be mad at him when he hears Hawks’s boisterous laugh.
“Oh! That’s gotta be Natsu!” Fuyumi chimes. No one comes to greet him, but when he rounds the corner, Hawks waves him over and Shouto smiles. His family, including Mom and minus Touya—who is alive and a murderer, are all sitting around the table. It’s fuller than it’s been in a really, really long time. Mom sits straight-backed and prim with her hands in her lap. Natsu remembers that growing up, she was always rushing between them to help out the kids, then later, fighting with Endeavor or not coming to dinner at all. She’s obviously in charge here, sitting at the head of the table and with everyone looking to her for approval after they make a joke. Good.
He takes the spot next to Hawks.
“Hey, Natsu. Is it okay if I call you that? There are… five? Todorokis in the room, I need to differentiate.”
“Four,” Mom says with a smile.
That’s new.
Natsu’s immediate reaction, rather than feeling anything himself, is to look to Endeavor. He’s looking down at his lap as he gives a nod. Okay. Okay.
“Mom?” he asks.
With a sharp and scathing smile directed at Endeavor’s still-bowed head, she says kindly, “I think it’s about time I started looking for my soulmate.”
Hawks’s expression doesn’t change, but Fuyumi looks desperately at Natsu, then to Hawks.
Mom sees, and grimaces, probably remembering.
“That’s good,” Endeavor says, now sitting straight and tall. “You deserve that, after all these years.”
“This is really good salad!” Natsu pipes up, holding a forkful of plain pre-washed lettuce. “Who made it?”
Everyone jumps in to speak at once.
“Shouto—”
“It—”
“Oh—”
Shouto waits for everyone to cut themselves off, then says, “Momo went and got it for me.”
Fuyumi glances at Natsu again, half pleading, half grimacing, but forges forward anyway.
“Oh, that was very nice of her! Haha!”
“Aren’t you going to tease me?”
Natsu rushes to shut it down. “No.”
Shouto narrows his eyes. “You always tease me about my soulmate.”
The room goes silent, then quickly fills with Fuyumi’s tittering nervous laugh. “Well, we’re being nice! So, Dad, I hear you… you…”
“I hear you had to grovel on national television?” Natsuo to the rescue! Fuyumi shoots a glare at him.
“Well, I thought your speech was very nice, it was very respectful, and it was, um, honorable that you would take responsibility like that!”
“Thank you, Fuyumi,” he responds solemnly. “And yes, Natsuo. I think it was about time.”
Shouto crunches his lettuce louder than he was a second ago, and they listen to him chew for a few seconds.
“Shouto,” Hawks says. “That’s some very crunchy lettuce you’ve got. Natsu wants to smack his head down onto the table at his matter-of-fact tone. “And all of you, I’m not gonna break down crying if you talk about soulmates. Or Touya.”
Someone might though, even if it’s not Hawks.
Endeavor clanks his fork down rather loudly. “Hawks. Please don’t talk about this at dinner.”
“Why not?” Natsu snipes. “You can’t handle the fact that you drove your son to that?”
Fuyumi hisses his name at him, but he doesn’t stop. “All you did in the hospital was cry. That’s not helpful. You don’t do anything and now you won’t even say his name?”
“This isn’t about you, Natsuo!” he says, smacking down on the table. The silverware clatters, and his scowl deepens. “Most of the time, you’re right, but we have guests. Touya almost killed Hawks, his own soulmate, can you please have the tact not to bring him up right now?”
Without realizing it, Natsu’s stood up from his chair and is looking down at his father. He has the gall to talk about Touya like that, after everything he did to make him that way?
Hawks glances up at Natsu and leans in to grab the salad dressing. “Thanks, Endeavor-san, but actually I was the one who brought it up. And you were the one who mentioned the near-death experience.” He drizzles the dressing over his salad, and Natsu sits down, embarrassed. It’s not about Touya right now. “Are all of your family dinners this tense?”
“Yes,” Natsu bites out, and Hawks makes eye contact to raise his brows in a kind of sardonic sympathy.
Natsu wishes, for once, that his family could walk on eggshells. He’s always hated it before and never hesitated to smash any tentative peace that his father doesn’t deserve, but can’t they leave it alone for just a minute? Here’s Hawks, scarring all down the side of his face, missing his quirk, and his family keeps bringing up the person that did this to him.
Natsu’s hesitant to eat at all because any motion would be loud in the silent aftermath. Shouto, apparently, has no such hesitance. His lettuce is suspiciously crunchy.
Natsu resists the urge to smack him and tries instead to smooth things over, but without practice, he feels like he’s forcing it. “So, Best Jeanist, how is…Wash? Have any of you heard from Wash recently?”
“He’s fine,” says Endeavor, at the same moment Hawks says, “Wash is great.”
A beat later, Jeanist answers. “Wash and I do not get along. We’re like new dye and hot water in a wash cycle.”
“Oh,” Natsu says in lieu of an apology. He’s not apologizing for something he’d never know to avoid, and it wasn’t him that made the dinner awkward.
For Hawks, he continues. “So, Hawks, have you been back to Fukuoka recently? That’s where you’re from, right?”
“Mm, haven’t really had the chance to head back yet. Pretty much all of the fallout is focused near here, so I’ve been with these two trying to clean things up and all that. I’m very grateful that you all have invited me here for dinner!” Hawks grins widely and his scar crinkles and folds sharply. “I’ve had nothing but instant microwave meals and takeout since I left the hospital!”
Natsu remembers when Mom used to fret. She doesn’t anymore, and he can’t decide whether or not he misses it. But Hawks looks like he could use someone to fret over him. “Hawks!” he scolds. “Do you not have a kitchen?”
“Kitchen?” he laughs. “No, but I have a microwave and a blanket, that’s more than—”
“Oh, good,” Natsu interrupts. “You have a blanket.”
Hawks grins. “Yeah, I do!”
Natsu’s living by himself right now, and he’s close to where Hawks needs to be. He definitely has room at his place for an extra person and an extra blanket, he thinks, chewing on his chicken. Of course, Endeavor should offer, but he won’t, and Natsu’s already worked himself up about it. Endeavor’s the one that’s Hawks’s coworker and the one with the five empty rooms in his house. But he would never—
“Hawks,” says Endeavor. “You don’t have to do that. Come stay with me here.”
All of a sudden, Natsu realizes that he doesn’t actually want Endeavor to do that.
“Hey,” he says. “Or, he could come stay with me. I’ve got space, and I’m sure it’s nicer to live with someone your own age.”
“Thanks!” beamed Hawks. “Both of you, I appreciate it, for real. I don’t want to intrude, though. I think I’ll just stick to my motel.”
Endeavor nods, frowning.
“Your motel,” Natsu says, rolling his eyes. “Oh, right. It’s got the perfect setup. A microwave and a blanket.”
Hawks grins, his eyes lighting up. “Oh yeah, it even has a floor, baby. I’ve got it made.”
“Hawks,” Natsu says. “For real. I have a kitchen, a fridge, a guest room, and I live two minutes from the train station. It’s a good deal.”
Hawks twists his face up into a grimace. It reminds Natsu of Fuyumi, and how she would rather die than do anything “selfish.” Well, Natsu would, and he thinks other people should, too. “Plus… I could use the company.”
It’s the truth. He’s not being manipulative. He’s not whoever the fuck Touya is now. He’s just sick of being Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki of the abusive father and back-from-the-dead serial killer brother. Hawks hasn’t tried to show him any pity for that, and maybe Natsu likes him for it.
Hawks laughs. “Well. So do I. Might as well, right? Are you being serious here? I really wouldn’t want to be in your way or anything.”
“You wouldn’t be!” he assures.
“Okay, then, but remember that you asked for this.”
Hawks is a quieter roommate than expected. For all of his loud-mouthing and goading on television, he has light footsteps and when he’s just existing—brushing his teeth, putting on his shoes, doing physical therapy exercises—he’s a lot… less. Maybe it’s the absence of his wings or the way he has to cut his movements short, maybe it’s not. Natsu’s never been around him enough to know.
Natsu himself has been staying home to study, doesn’t want to deal with the looks and questions he gets in public, and Hawks is gone most of the day. He leaves early in the morning, comes back at night.
Since the whole reason he invited Hawks over was about food, Natsu makes them dinner. He has no idea how to cook, but he has a rice cooker, so he makes… rice. And eggs. The first day is an attempt at an omelette with rice, and Hawks eats it gratefully. The next day is rice with fried eggs, and the next, rice with boiled eggs.
“You’re saving my life, man!” Hawks says between bites, fork halfway to his mouth. “I think things’ll slow down a bit in a couple of days, can I return the favor and make you dinner?”
Hawks is smiling, and he looks excited at the idea, even if Natsu feels bad having a guest cook. “Sure! I’d love that!”
“Great! Any requests?”
“No, man, do your thing.”
Natsu’s studying later—how much later, he’s not sure, but it’s dark and the streetlights have come on—when Hawks walks in with four big bags of groceries. “I hope you don’t mind! I got a little carried away, haha!” He unloops the bags carefully from his arms. “I just… it’s been so long since I’ve gone shopping, and I actually love cooking, so I couldn’t help myself! Is it okay if I put this all in the fridge?”
“Go ahead,” says Natsu, closing his books. He’s interested in watching Hawks cook.
Hawks hums to himself as he fills the fridge neatly with all kinds of things—curry paste, American ketchup, fruit, lettuce, orange juice, chicken. Natsu kind of likes the look of it. He’s living on his own, now, away from his family, and he’s strangely proud of the full fridge, even though it’s all Hawks’s doing.
Hawks looks up and sees Natsu’s eyes, and he wishes he hadn’t closed his books. At least his laptop’s still open, so he starts hitting random keys and ducks his head to look at the screen and hide his blush.
He tries to look busy as Hawks chops garlic, onions, and sweet potatoes, then sets them to simmer before turning on the rice cooker. He fiddles with it a little, then turns back to the sweet potatoes to push them around with a wooden spoon while he talks with Natsu.
“What are you—sorry, I’m not interrupting, am I?—What are you studying? I don’t think I’ve asked before.”
Natsu closes his laptop and removes the barrier between them. “Ah, well, I’m doing welfare. I want to do like… some sort of social work. Or work with like… missing persons stuff, mostly with families.”
“Oh, that’s super cool! I am… a hero, obviously. But I think If I weren’t, I’d probably want to do something like that.”
Natsu doesn’t say that Hawks still might have to, if things keep looking they way they do right now. In fact, he’s not sure he believes it. Hawks’s optimism is contagious, and seeing him so content as he cooks makes Natsu believe it all the more. “Like… to help people, I’m assuming?”
“Yeah, I’ve always just wanted to help others, ever since- someone helped me. You know, like, pay it forward and all that.”
“That’s kind of the same reason I want to do this,” Natsu says with determination. “I want to help people. One person in particular, but even if I can’t, at least I can help people like them.”
“Who?” Hawks asks, eyes boring into Natsu. The food sizzles as his spoon stills and Hawks covers it with a lid to come sit across the table from Natsuo. People are usually a little more subtle in their nosiness. He’s not sure he should bring it up, what with Hawks’s current situation with his soulmate, but he remembers the family dinner last week. He remembers wanting someone around who would treat him normally and not be scared to say the wrong thing, but the entire dinner he was trying to keep the conversation light and steer it away from anything that might rattle Hawks, even when he didn’t seem to mind.
“My soulmate.”
“What do they need help with?”
Natsu sighs. “It’s kind of a long story.”
“I’ve got time,” Hawks says, then leans his chair back on two legs to see the timer on the rice cooker. “About fifteen minutes, at least.”
Natsu thinks through it in his head, the fastest way to explain the whole thing. “He’s… my soulmate. He went missing when he was four. I didn’t even know him or even look for him until after he’d already disappeared. I’ve…it’s kind of always been a big deal to me, finding them. You saw what- about my dad, and also my mom. They’re not soulmates, obviously. So I just... I’ve always wanted to find mine, you know?” He glances at Hawks, see if he grimaces or if he nods.
“Makes sense,” he says with a shrug. “Can’t blame you for that one.”
Natsu forces himself to laugh. “Yeah, I guess it’s only natural, right? So, when I tried to look for him, all I found was an incident report. His family disappeared, but they found DNA evidence in the dust on the lawn. But there was none for Tenko, and a bunch of the neighbors said they maybe saw him wandering around. But… no one ever found him. I don’t think he’s dead, I mean, he survived whatever killed his family, so he must have a pretty strong quirk.”
If anyone understands him, it’ll be Hawks, who continues to believe that his wings will grow back even when all evidence points the other direction. But Hawks has that frozen and falling smile on his face. Ouch, okay. Shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, then. He moves to open his laptop back up.
“What did you say his name was?” Hawks asks, and Natsu pauses.
“Tenko?”
“Where’s your soulmark?”
“Uhh… on my shin? Why?”
“What’s his last name?”
“Uh, Shimura? What’s with the questions, man?”
Hawks has his head buried in his hands, and when he looks at Natsu again, he’s pressing his lips together tightly before speaking. Natsu wonders if he’s thinking of Touya. “Natsu. I’ve… got some bad news. I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes for a second, then opens them again. “Your soulmate is Shigaraki Tomura. He’s the leader of the League of Villains.”
“What? But—” He stops, gives himself some time to process. He can’t; he can’t wrap his brain around it. “Are you sure?” he accuses. “How do you know?”
“I only found out recently. I was a spy for the Hero Commission but it was only after the war that the heroes got info on Shigaraki’s history, mostly from Gran Torino and All Might. Do you want to know more?”
He’s spent years of his life wishing, and now that he has the chance, he feels sick with dread, the scent of the cooking onions turning his stomach. “Yes,” he croaks out.
Hawks sits straight-backed and serious. “When his name was Shimura, on the day his quirk manifested, he killed his entire family. His quirk is Decay; all he has to do is touch something with all five fingers and it disintegrates. We’re assuming he was found by All for One, who changed his name to Shigaraki to act like he was his son. Now he’s his successor.”
Natsu’s mouth is dry and the rice cooker dings.
Hawks stays, looking at him. “I’m sorry,” he says. “We’re… trying to track down and arrest him right now.”
“Great,” he snaps, because he doesn’t know what else to do.
“If it helps,” Hawks says, “my soulmate is also a mass murderer.” He shrugs nonchalantly and gets up to fiddle around in the kitchen, leaving the world to spin around Natsu. His skin feels hot and feverish. The table is suddenly crowding him, cutting too far into his space, so he scrambles away from it and out the door, but it’s even hotter outside. He wants to go back inside and shove his face in the freezer but Hawks is there; he can’t deal with a table in his personal space, how’s he supposed to handle a person. And Hawks, who didn’t panic like this at all about Touya, or even his wings, or even Tenko, who seems to be so calm about the whole thing right now—he has no idea.
So, clenching his hands tightly, Natsu paces up and down the sidewalk. It cools him down in increments. He doesn’t need the freezer anymore. Then, after a good four more minutes of pacing, he’s gotten his breathing under control and thinks he can go back inside and stomach the sight of Hawks.
When he turns back to his apartment door, Hawks is sitting on the porch.
He’s holding a plate of food, and gives Natsu a kind of weak wave. Natsu waves back and makes his way over. “I...brought your food out,” Hawks calls, and gestures to another plate on the step next to him. When Natsu sits down, Hawks says, “I’m sorry. This must be… really tough. Especially since he’s such a driving force in your life.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” he says, and hopes it doesn’t sound bitter. He knows he does, though, so he elaborates. “I think I mentioned this. But, uh, my parents aren’t soulmates. And growing up, I just saw them, and I thought, I don’t want to be like them. I’ll find my soulmate, I’ll build a happy life for myself. And I could tell that T- he was still out there, I swore I could feel it, you know. Because we were soulmates. And I guess I was right.”
The tears are hot and sticky, and he’s just managed to cool himself down, so he gets them off his face as quickly as possible.
Hawks is quiet, letting him compose himself, before he says, “I get that.” He laughs. “I’m not trying to make this about me, I’m telling you this as… someone who can relate.”
And now Natsu feels bad for making it about him, all he’d done was find out that his soulmate isn’t dead. Yes, he’s a villain. But Hawks has it way worse. Touya did way worse to him. Because of his soulmate, he can’t fly anymore, and he can’t be a hero. Natsu shoves all the hurt he’s feeling and pushes it into a pile called Hawks’s Feelings.
“I felt the same way about my parents,” Hawks continues, staring at his plate of food. “I thought they were...broken. The only thing that kept me going as a kid was my determination to not be like them. So I guess we’re pretty much the same that way. I’ve, uh, I haven’t really told anyone this before.” He meets Natsu’s eyes with a wry sort of smile, and Natsu’s angry when another tear slips out.
Hawks shrugs. “Only, my parents were soulmates. So, I guess, I never really thought that much of it. I always kind of thought that I’d love who I wanted to love and live the life I wanted to live. I think… I think that there’s more to love than soulmates. I’m sorry you had a huge chunk of your life just… burned away like that. But not all hope is lost.”
Hawks—slouched like this on Natsu’s front porch, missing his wings and awkwardly balancing a plate on his knees, is like Hawks in the hospital, drowned in bandages but still smiling and knowing his wings would come back. He makes much more sense than he should.
“Thanks,” Natsu says. “I’ll have to think on that a bit. And… I’m sorry, too. About Touya.”
“Hey! There’s no need for any apologies. I guess… just know you’re not alone in this, yeah?”
He sniffles. “Yeah.”
As with anything, the indignation builds up in him, until three days later he can’t even think about Tenko—Shigaraki—without getting mad. He would feel horrible directing the anger at Hawks, so keeps his mouth shut. He can let it out at the people that deserve it—Endeavor, for what he did to Touya. Touya, for what he did to Hawks. Tenko, for what he did to everyone. And maybe himself, for letting it all happen.
He’s almost itching to go home—a yelling match might do him some good. But then there’s Fuyumi, still visiting Endeavor often and trying to hold everything together. He won’t do that to her right now.
Instead, he runs in the mornings and nights, pounding his feet on the asphalt and letting the air rip at his throat until he cools down. Can’t sit still long enough to study, can barely make it through class. He paces, all the time, constantly. He hasn’t been there when Hawks gets back, and they’ve shifted so Hawks is the one making dinners now. Natsu cleans up afterward. There’s something cathartic in washing dishes.
“Hey,” Hawks says, almost a week after the revelation. “I’m gonna pick up some stuff from Fukuoka while I’ve got time. Wanna come?”
God, does he ever! He’s dying to be far away.
“Are you sure? I won’t be in your way?”
“Of course not! To be honest, I could use some help.” He turns to show Natsu the barely-there stubs of his wings poking through his shirt. “Not as handy as I used to be.”
“They’re coming back, though,” Natsu notes.
“Yeah,” Hawks says, a hard set to his jaw.
They take the train to Fukuoka. Natsu wants to hide Hawks from all the prying eyes. He tries to stand in places that shield him from the public, but Hawks takes to the open anyway, and waves when people recognize him.
The rumbling of the train hums Natsu into a more restful sleep than he’s had all week. It’s only when Hawks pats his face that he wakes up. It’s a quick walk to his apartment; he lives close to the station, and it’s a busy enough time of day—lunch hour—that no one’s paying attention enough to recognize either of them.
Hawks’s apartment is quiet, but it’s unfamiliar, and that alone soothes Natsu. Hawks hands him a box. “Follow me, I’m just grabbing the essentials, then I’ll show you this really good place I took your dad to once, I think you’ll like it. Much better than my cooking, at least.”
“Hey, watch it. If you insult your cooking, you’re insulting mine by extension. You’re ten times better than I am.”
Hawks grabs a thin blanket off the couch and rolls it up, stuffing it in the box. “Hey, you’re not bad, you’re just, uh, you’re learning!”
“Right,” he snorts.
Hawks’s apartment isn’t messy, but it’s definitely been untouched for a few weeks, and it doesn’t look like he’d bothered to tidy up before he left. There’s an empty glass of water on a small table by the couch with lines on the glass showing where it’d evaporated, a bowl of long-overripe fruit on the table, and dishes in the sink.
“Here,” Hawks says, walking down a small hallway. “Most of it will be in here.”
It’s Hawks’s room. The bed’s not made, and Hawks picks up two pillows from the ground to put one in the box then make his bed with the other.
He puts some shirts and pairs of pants into the box, then sags a little against the bed.
“Okay!” he says suddenly, clapping his hands and turning around. “Thanks for your help, that box is a bit of an awkward size for me to carry at the moment.” He turns his arms to show the scarring skin, as if Natsu needed the reminder. “I’m just gonna… clean up a bit in here, would you mind packing up the blankets in the hallway closet?
“What,” Natsu teases. “You need more than one blanket? I thought you had enough, and a microwave, too!
Hawks grins and turns to grab the pillow off the just-made bed and throw it at him. “Well. What can I say, I’ve been spoiled, living with you. Now get back to work!”
The blankets are neatly folded in the closet, but Natsu takes them down and rolls them one by one so they fit better into the box. There are ratty blankets, thin blankets, quilts, crocheted blankets, and fuzzy blankets. It’s kind of cute that Hawks has so many.
He leaves the box by the door and grabs a new one to bring to Hawks in his room.
“H—” he starts, but the rest of the word doesn’t make it out of his throat. Hawks is sitting on his bed, head bowed looking at something in his hands. It’s orange. And small.
“Hey,” he says, looking up.
“Oh, sorry, should I—”
“Nah, you’re good. He sighs, and shows Natsu what he’s holding—an old Endeavor plushie. “I think I’ll leave this here.” He heaves himself up and claps a hand on Natsu’s shoulder.
Suddenly chipper, he says, “Alright. Now to the big chore: the kitchen.
“I’ll help you out!” Natsu says. Hawks obviously wants a distraction. “What should I do first?”
“Great! You’re the best! Wanna clear everything out of the fridge? I’ll work on the dishes.”
Hawks turns on some upbeat music over his phone speaker and starts humming along. It’s contagious, and Natsu finds himself humming and singing under his breath even as he’s clearing rotten tomato juice off of the fridge shelves.
It’s sad that so much is going to waste… Hawks was pretty well stocked, moldy leftovers in containers, now-mushy vegetables, a full, unopened gallon of curdled milk. He must have just gone shopping before he left to have his life ruined. Natsu moves to toss out the ruined leftovers, but Hawks stops him without turning around. “I’ll save those containers, just clear out the food out and hand them to me.”
He does, gagging at the smell, and then watches incredulously as Hawks adds them to the soapy sink. He’s still humming and shaking his head slightly as he washes, unperturbed by the fact that he’s just added mold to the dishwater.
Natsu’s gaze gets stuck on the way that the water soaks his rolled up sleeves and the movement of his arms as he washes. All of a sudden, there are no thoughts of mold, only thoughts of the way his shoulder muscles move under his shirt and the wing stubs with them. The moment is broken when Hawks turns slightly—only to reach below to pull the bleach out of the cupboard—but Natsu’s already back to emptying the refrigerator more intensely than before.
After Hawks vacuums and Natsu dusts in the high hard-to-reach places, they both sag into the couch.
“I’m exhausted,” Hawks says.
“Me too. But the good kind.”
“Yeah. Kinda feels nice. Cathartic. Like I’m scrubbing away the last few weeks.”
Natsu laughs. “I think we’ve both kind of needed that, huh?”
Hawks sits forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Sorry about your soulmate.”
“No, it’s—”
“No, I mean, like, it really sucks. To hope for something, cling to something your whole life and then… it’s not what you thought.”
Natsu huffs. “Yeah. You got experience in that department?”
Hawks tilts his head up, letting one hand drop and looking up at him through his blond eyelashes. The afternoon sun catches on them, and they glint like stars when he blinks. “Yeah. I guess so. Not a great feeling. And,” he huffs, “sorry to say this, and I’m not saying I’m glad you’re hurting, but we’re kind of in it together, right? It’s nice to know that I’m not alone, at least.”
“I thought you said you never believed in soulmates in the first place?”
“Never did,” Hawks agreed.
“But—”
“It’s about something different. But, you know, a soulmate’s not the only person you can fall in love with.”
Hawks is looking right into his eyes, a little wistful smile on his face.
Natsu gulps and his heart flutters. “Yeah? You think?”
“I know.”
“Oh, you know, do you?”
“That’s what I just said.”
Hawks reaches for Natsu’s hand, and Natsu catches a whiff of pine-scented cleaner. His fingers are rubbed raw and too smooth from being dunked in water for too long, and when Natsu reaches his hand around his back to pull him closer, right above Todoroki Touya and right below his new wings, the texture of his shirt feels weird against his own fingers.
“You know what?” Natsu laughs, brushing their lips together. “I believe you.”