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The bird was singing in the shower.
And he sucked at it. Dabi moved away from the door to the bedroom with a sneer, shucking off his heavy coat to toss it haphazardly over a couch. The apartment was tastefully decorated in shades of red, white, and gold, and it looked like a show piece from an Ikea magazine. The coat alone added more personality than anything the winged hero had been allowed to leave around.
The arsonist just meant to leave a message with said hero, but for now he sighed as he ducked into the kitchen to rummage through the fridge. There was mostly fast food leftovers behind stainless steel doors, but it was still better than anything he'd had in the last few days, so he helped himself to a bucket of chicken strips and potato wedges, steam rising as he used his quirk to reheat them. The bird always had food, and it was why he'd come to talk in person instead of just texting or calling.
A squawk from the living room was the only warning that the hero was out of the shower, wings springing open and spraying water on the walls. "Gods Dabi, knock next time!" Hawks sniped, trying to ignore the way his feathers were puffed out from the surprise. "Gods above, it's like having a cat," he grumbled, preening down the flurry of red with his towel.
Dabi could only stare, the food in hand forgotten. The grumbling bird was wearing only a towel around his hips, the one wiping down his wings formerly wrapped around his shoulders to dry his hair. He was all lean muscle and wiry strength, gold skin broken only by the scars that all heroes collect over long careers. It was the one on his chest, right over the breastbone, that had his attention. No one knew why the disease known as Hanahaki first appeared at the same time as quirks, but while not exactly common, it seemed like everyone knew someone first or second hand who'd started coughing up flowers. The scarring over Hawks' skin was in a starburst pattern, or as the more romantic might say, a kiku pattern. And it was a common sign of the surgery to remove the flowers growing in a person's lungs.
The bird was still grumbling to himself as he draped the towel over his shoulders, only to blink at the villain staring at him. "What?"
"Interesting scar there bird. Didn't know you had enough of a heart to need that one."
He rolled his eyes at the quip, hand drifting up to brush over the old scar. "What was that old pre-quirk movie quote? Proof that I have a heart?" he sniped, turning away to waltz into his bedroom, effortless grace only ruined by the slightly arched wings still trying to mantle aggressively over his head. Dabi waited patiently, taking a seat at the table that was more show piece than well-used furniture, forgotten food set to the side. The hero returned after a moment, sleep pants covering strong legs and a wrap top covering his chest.
"Well?" The arsonist raised an eyebrow, sliding the chicken strips over, steam still teasing their noses. "Gonna explain?"
A deep sigh, even as Hawks grabbed a strip to fiddle with. "What's to say? You obviously know what the scar's from." He nibbled at the breading for a second before sighing again when it became obvious that Dabi wasn't going to drop the subject. "They say that I started coughing up rindou flowers after a training partner died visiting home. The person was dead so it's not like I could have confessed. So I had to go in for the surgery. Now I don't even remember their name." Greasy fingers brushed over his chest, a far-off look in gold eyes. "Just blue rindou, and a bitter taste in my mouth."
"Even with the partner dead, I'm surprised they risked the surgery." Blue eyes were piercing at he took in the pensive look on the bird's face. "Isn't there a risk of reduced lung functions? Not really the best when you fly."
"Who was I gonna confess to though, a grave?" Hawks shook his head, hand finally moving away from his breastbone as he snapped back to himself. "No, it had to be done. And gods know the commission could afford the best doctors." He shrugged as he dove into his chicken, finally taking a decent bite. "Added a decade to my contract though."
"Contract?"
The bird snorted around the mouthful of food. "Why do you think I wanna join up with you guys? My contract with them is basically for life at this point, and it's restrictive to the point I barely have any autonomy left to me." He grinned over at the arsonist, and Dabi could see the charm that caused so many civilians to swoon for the hero. "What kind of a bird would I be if I saw an opening to the cage and didn't try to fly away?"
...~~~...~~~...~~~...
Those words stuck with Dabi as the weeks went by. As he kept the hero on his long leash, ordering him to perform the strangest or most demeaning tasks he could think of to string him along with the hope of getting closer to the rest of the league. He didn't trust him, he didn't trust his pretty words about flying away, but part of him could not blame the man for wanting something more. For wanting freedom from what was basically an abusive relationship with the Commission.
And even besides that, the bird was fascinating. He barely remembered his life from before the age of ten, but he knew his father had forced him into the Commissions' training areas as a youngster in hopes of them having new ideas on how to focus his flames. And there had been a blond kid with wings, but as far as he knew he'd never talked to him. Only seen him from afar a few times during training. But it couldn't have been Hawks. How the hell could have have fallen enough for him to contract Hanahaki if they'd never even known each other's names?
So no, it couldn't have been him who the bird had fallen for. It couldn't have been him who'd made such an impact on the hero who loved to help people. On such a genuinely sweet-natured soul who rescued kittens from trees, or helped the elderly cross the street. (He'd seen him do that multiple times, even in the seediest areas of the city where even grandma could be ready to pull out a knife.) Rindou was once used in old traditional medicine, or so he found when he looked up the flower on his phone. It was more likely he had fallen for a healer in training.
The coughing was an old friend for the arsonist, as was the dark gunk that came up. His Quirk was fire but his body was better suited to ice. As such, he didn't have the natural built in protections to ash and heat like his father or brother, and the crap he breathed in had to exit somehow. The fact that he was coughing more often at the moment didn't faze him. With his skin as torn up and burnt as it was, he was more vulnerable to getting sick, so this was likely just a new bug that managed to get past his higher than normal body temperature.
He paid it no mind as he continued to string the hero along, inadvertently getting to know more about him as he did so. Learning about some of the training programs he'd gone through as a kid, ones that even Endeavor would have balked at. Learning about the stories behind some of the more interesting scars under his uniform. He still laughed at the one that came from him crash landing in a tree during a thunderstorm.
Learning how surprisingly lenient he was with kids and teens he would catch in the middle of minor crimes. When he asked why after seeing him let go of a kid with a cricket-based mutation with only a warning, the bird admitted to a shitty childhood before the Commission took him in. He always had spare cash in his wallet for the street urchins trying to steal food, and Dabi was quick to take advantage of that to acquire more than one meal a day whenever he would meet up with the hero. Fire Quirks, even faulty ones like his, burned through calories he often didn't have. Half the reason Endeavor was so big was because of his Quirk. A hard nights' use could burn through kilos easily.
He learned about the generous heart the Number Two Hero had under that star-burst scar. The way he would light up when talking about the few friends he had, or the bird-headed intern from UA. The way he could not carry a tune to save his life but still enjoyed horrible American pop music. The way bright eyes would shine as he looked out over the city from rooftops, turning from honey to gold. How he'd lean in closer to the pyro on cold nights, wings wrapping around him to absorb the heat he radiated. Whoever the bird fell for would be the luckiest person in Japan. If he lived long enough for that of course.
...~~~...~~~...~~~...
Hawks knew that this mission would likely get him in trouble.
He was flirting with the wrong side of the law, and the bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Literally lately. And he knew his chances of getting away without new scars was very slim.
But the blue petals falling from his lips in the middle of a debriefing was startling to everyone in the room.
He gasped for air as he stared at the wet petals, barely noticing him having fallen to the floor from the strength of his coughing. He'd been talking about the League, telling them that his contact would likely introduce him to Shigaraki soon. He'd already met Twice, Toga, and Kurogiri, Spinner and Mr. Compress out on errands when he'd been brought to the base. His mind had drifted to Dabi even as his handler looked over his written reports, wingtips flicking absently in thought. The arsonist talked a big talk, but he had a surprisingly soft heart with the other members of the League, letting Toga drape over him or mess with his hair with the patience of an older sibling. He seemed to know how to handle Twice, when to let him ramble or when to try and help him focus when his mind started to wander too aggressively. And Kurogiri seemed to regard them all with a certain fondness, like a doting uncle looking over his rambunctious family.
But Dabi seemed to take up all his thoughts these days, blue eyes the same bright shade of the flowers in his hands. Of a sarcastic sense of humor and a quick mind that seemed to always be ready to throw a quip at the hero. The way he seemed to be almost confused at Hawks' generosity with the street kids on his route, as if he never expected a hero to be willing to help those so far under them. The small things he'd let slip over the months, like his absolute hatred of fish and his tendency to get motion sick. Even the scent of ash seemed calming after so time around the arsonist, as was the heat he radiated as the nights grew colder the closer they got to winter.
"Again, Hawks?" Gold eyes flicked up to the annoyed look on the face of the handler, the man sighing as he typed something on his phone. "You've been working for us for so long, and you fall for something as useless as love? You didn't learn from last time this had to happen?"
Had to happen? His chest felt tight, had been feeling tight for weeks now (and now he knew why) but the winged man staggered to his feet, ignoring the taste of bile on his tongue even as petals were crushed between his fingers. "Wait, what has to happen?" he demanded, voice hoarse even as his wings spread defensively.
"We can take care of this again, it's simple as that."
"Wait, this isn't the same!" Red wings mantled, pulpy floral material falling to the carpet as he gestured frantically. "The person died last time, but I can talk to the other this time!" Gold eyes flickered with hope. "It doesn't have to be this way! And wouldn't it be a better way to help my standing with Da-" he stopped, lips clamping shut. He had fallen enough for Dabi to be growing flowers in his lungs. But even as he tried to defend his choices, he knew how this was going to go. It wasn't an in, it was proof that he was compromised. Maybe if it was the other way around, Dabi reacting over him falling for a hero, he would be able to spin this as a good thing.
But he was a hero. Dabi was a villain. There was a reason he hadn't said anything to the other man, no matter how he may feel. All he could do was lock eyes with the handler, even as a pair of muscular security guards entered the conference room. "Please. Just, give me a chance to talk to him."
"It's for your own good Hawks," the man intoned even as the guards placed gentle but firm hands on his shoulders, turning him to lead him down into the basement. Towards the medical wing. "You're off the case. You'll be back on normal patrols once you're cleared by medical. We'll discuss the changes to your contract later."
...~~~...~~~...~~~...
"Boooooored!"
Dabi rolled his eyes at Toga, coughing lightly into a tissue even as he kicked the couch she was draped over. They'd just gotten back from a territorial dispute with a local gang, and the League had gotten used to him having coughing fits after a fight, but it didn't make the tightness in his chest any less annoying. "What do you want me to do about it?" he snarked, hip checking her to throw her off balance and over the couch to land in a heap on the concrete.
Toga scowled, rubbing at her hip from where she'd landed heavily. He acted like such a big brother sometimes. "Go bring back food or something! Or maybe the birdie! It's been weeks since we've seen him!"
She wasn't wrong. It had been weeks since they'd seen or heard from the hero. Dabi had even broken into his apartment a few times. No sign of him. No new loose feathers, no new leftovers in the fridge. Just silence and dust slowly collecting in the corners. It was almost eerie considering how much room the hero seemed to take up even when he wasn't trying. He hadn't replied to any of his texts either, every last one left on sent instead of read. He almost suspected the bird had been killed in action. The only reason he didn't entertain that idea for more than a minute was the sheer fact that if he had, all of Japan would know too. Hell, the women wailing on the streets would have clued them in.
Dabi frowned as he pulled out his phone to stare at the number on the screen again. 'Chicken Nuggets' had better have a good excuse for ghosting him...
"Gather up!" The base perked up as Shigaraki waltzed out in full regalia, a new Nomu lumbering behind him. This one seemed to almost be based off of a cat, walking on all fours with a hairless tail flicking behind it. A horrifying grace that somehow exuded the essence of feline more than embodying it. "We have a new target! It's time to show that no one is safe from the League!"
Twice whined from where he was sagged against the bar, Kurogiri offering him a mixed drink of some sort. "Why now? We just got back from another fight! Yeah, let's stick it to the man!"
Tomura ignored the complaint as he snapped at the others, Toga and Mr. Compress lurching to their feet slowly. The magician had taken a hard hit during the last fight, and his ribs were covered in a new forming mass of bruises. "We've been too quiet! We need to show ourselves again, and we have the perfect target for this one." Red eyes were alight with insane glee behind the hand on his face as they grouped up behind him. "This time, we're going after the HPSC Headquarters."
The portal dropped them off right in front of the building in question, people almost immediately screaming and running away in fear at the sight of the monster behind him. Shigaraki commanded it to go after the people of the building itself, and they could see why they'd brought this one. It's quadrupedal design and quick reflexes made it a good fit to infiltrate the tight halls of the building. Blood started to puddle up from kills, Toga grinning in psychopathic delight at the sight, and flames of blue started to blossom like destructive fireworks as Dabi harried the workers towards their monster. Mr. Compress was using his marbles to great effect, not only tearing away limbs, but also stealing tables, chairs, and computers to either use themselves or sell on the black market later. Even the computers of the low ranked office workers would have information that could be plumbed from their depths and used against the Commission.
Shigaraki was cackling gleefully. This was working better than he thought it would! Security was minimal in the building, only a few low ranked heroes there, likely to renew their licenses, and were no threat to them. They had practically free rein over the building until a higher ranked hero or team was called in, and they were going to use it to their advantage. Nothing was going to get in their way-
A red feather suddenly sliced into the Nomu, severing an arm from it's shoulder. It regrew almost immediately, but it put the League on alert. Only one hero had feathers like that after all.
Hawks stood there in the hall, primary feathers in his hands like swords, his jacket no where to be seen. Bandages peeked out from under his flight suit, wrapped around strong shoulders, but he held himself like they were nothing, ignoring any pain the hero might be in. "I don't know why you thought this was a good idea, but it won't matter in the next few minutes," he quipped, smirking cockily as he dove into the fight, aiming for the exposed brain of the Nomu.
His reaction time must have been off though, because even as he speared the monster, a elongated paw swiped out. He barely dodged out of the way in time, his flight suit top shredding where razor-sharp claws barely managed to catch against the material. He spun at the force, using his momentum to slice off the top of the brain, and the Nomu collapsed in a pile of gore and pale viscous plasma.
Dabi ignored the sound of Shigaraki throwing a fit over how easily his Nomu had been destroyed. He ignored the security team starting to close in on them. All that he could see was the way gold eyes glossed over him as if the bird didn't know him from a stranger in a crowd. Gold eyes, and the fresh scar that had been under the now shredded bandages. A deeply carved scar that was weeping blood, held together with stitches, in the shape of a kiku blossom.
"Oh bird, please say something," he murmured softly as the hero stop tall and proud over the corpse of the Nomu, feather swords dripping ruby blood on the ruined carpet. Only for his chest to clench in pain when Hawks only raised an eyebrow at him quizzically, head tilting in an almost bird-like fashion. Dabi used to love seeing him do that whenever the villain did something that confused him, whether accidentally or on purpose. But this? Aimed at him?
This felt like his heart was about to break.
He did not know how they got away. Or to be more precise, he did not know how they got him away. He suspected Twice had dragged him back through one of Kurogiri's portals, but the next thing he was aware of, was being back in the converted warehouse and Toga swearing angrily at the hero. "He didn't even try to talk to us! And I was gonna make him even prettier! He didn't have nearly enough blood on him," she pouted.
Mr. Compress frowned as he pulled off the ceramic mask, dark eyes pensive as he stared down at the younger man. "Dabi? What is it?" he asked, mechanical hand shaking him gently.
"He. He doesn't know me anymore," fell from numb lips, blue eyes staring off into the distance. The world seemed to tunnel around him, blood draining from his face and air seeming to abandon his lungs. "He doesn't know me anymore."
The coughing fit that took over was expected. He'd been throwing around large handfuls of flame within the Commission building after all. But this time, it shook his lean frame, hands clasped over his mouth as he sank to his knees. It hurt! It felt like he was trying to cough up a fishbone that had gotten caught in his throat. (There was a reason why he hated fish after all.) A square of fabric was offered, Compress offering a handkerchief as he supported the pyrokinetic, hands wrapped around thin shoulders.
But it wasn't ash and cinders he was gagging on this time. With a deep breathe, Dabi felt the spiky sensation ease as he finally coughed up a strange flower into his hands. It was charred, as if his own body temperature had been trying to burn it. But it was obviously a type of flower.
The Hero didn't know him anymore. And Dabi was coughing up almost fully formed Birds of Paradise for him.