𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧' |𝐭.𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐢

43- dates, dates, and dates!

You didn't remember the moment.

But your body did.

And now, you weren't sure what scared you more. The fact that something had happened between you and someone you couldn't name...

Or the fact that part of you wanted to remember.

Desperately.

You sank onto the edge of your bed, the hoodie still in your hands, and buried your face in it like it might give you answers.

But all it gave you was warmth.

And longing.

And a deep, aching sense of loss you didn't understand.

Not yet.

You were now sat on the edge of your bed, staring at your open palms like you were waiting for something to return.

For the familiar flicker of white. The steady hum of atomic radiation you used to command like breath.

Nothing came.

Just the dull ache of skin. The silence of still hands.

You flexed your fingers again, desperate for even a whisper of the energy that used to bloom beneath your skin, the power to heal, to reconstruct, to reshape destruction into something whole.

But all you felt was the absence.

And then, just like that, the tears came. Quiet. Slow. Unrelenting.

"I miss it," You whispered, voice already breaking. "I miss my quirk... I miss me."

You tried to swallow the sob that climbed up your throat, but it clawed its way out anyway, ragged and small.

"I miss my strength."

More tears fell. You didn't try to stop them now.

But underneath that grief, deeper, sharper, was something else.

A different kind of loss. One you couldn't explain. One that made your chest ache even when nothing had happened.

You hugged yourself, like it might stop the feeling. It didn't.

You curled into yourself then, sobbing in a way that hadn't happened since the war ended, broken and quiet and exhausted by loss you couldn't even explain.

Your quirk was gone.

Your strength felt empty.

And the one person who had made you feel whole, who had brought you out of your silence and made you believe in yourself, was nowhere. Not even in your memories.

Just a presence that lingered like phantom radiation: invisible, buried, but still burning beneath your skin.

⸻

It was a hit past five now, you had showered and put on a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt before heading over to the address Keigo sent you.

The sky was doing that dramatic sunset thing again, streaks of orange and pink smeared across the clouds like nature was showing off.

You sat on the edge of the rooftop, legs swinging over the ledge, when you heard the telltale sound of wings fluttering behind you.

"I come bearing gifts," Hawks announced, landing with all the subtlety of a game show host. In his arms: a greasy takeout bag and way too much smugness.

You arched an eyebrow. "If that's not karaage, you can turn those wings right back around."

"Oh ye of little faith," He said, pulling out a steaming box like he was unveiling buried treasure. "You are now in the presence of fried greatness."