He could see them; he was only a few feet away now. He'd gotten the call not even ten minutes ago, Mamoru informing him of the situation. Some sick motherfucker was dangling a poor little girl off a building downtown. Despite being fresh from his debut, they'd called him in specifically, thinking his speed and ability to be in the air would be the safest way to approach the situation.
Police said it was originally a custody dispute that had escalated, but the fact he'd be willing to hurt his own daughter over it was sickening. He couldn't imagine what would drive a father to do something like that, though he should know better than anyone about abusive parents. But never in his life would he think of hurting his own kid when he finally had one; he wouldn't even dream of it.
It seemed fairly simple: get close enough to send a few feathers to grab the girl while he focused on taking down the dad. He'd been trained on situations like this dozens of times; it wasn't hard. That girl would be back in her mother's arms within the next five minutes easily.
He spread his wings, ready to execute the proper rescue and takedown protocols, but he'd made a mistake. The dad had seen him coming long before he'd realized, and just as Hawks spread his wings, he flung the poor little girl over the edge without a single thought. The action caused Hawks to freeze for just a second, his brain unable to process the gravity of what had just happened.
But that single moment of hesitation cost him.
She let out a gut-wrenching shriek, and he plummeted downwards after her, tucking in wings to try and gain enough speed.
"Faster, faster, please," he begged himself, God, anyone or anything that might be listening and might be able to help, but it was too late. She hit the pavement with a sickening–
His eyes flew open at the thunder crack echoing through the room, his feathers vibrating with the last of the sound. He was panting, his sheets and clothes soaked with sweat as he let out a pathetic groan. He turned, just managing to throw his head over the side of the bed as he finally vomited. His eyes watered, nose and throat burning as the rain pounded against his bedroom window. How many times was he going to have the same nightmare?
Could he even really call it a nightmare if it was actually a memory?
That thought sent his stomach lurching again, forcing him to move out of bed as he retched. He threw open the bathroom door, scrambling for the toilet as he vomited again, unable to stop the sickening twist of his stomach and the horrible ache in his chest. The nightmares were getting worse, more frequent, but he supposed it was only fair given everything.
It had been an entire year since then. He truly deserved to suffer for it. After all, it was all his fault she wasn't here anymore. A mother had grieved her child for an entire year because he'd hesitated for just a second too long.
He gagged again, his nose running as he heaved. He'd replayed that situation over and over again in his head, dreaming of the things he would do differently. He should've approached from the back instead of a head-on assault. Should have sent feathers after her instead of diving himself. If he hadn't been so stupid, maybe just maybe, that girl would be turning seven this year instead of rotting in the ground.
He pushed himself away from the toilet with a grunt, there was nothing left in his stomach to vomit even if he wanted to. Brushing his hair from his face, he took a deep breath, his breathing finally starting to steady out. It was a good thing he had the sense to cash in his personal day for today. There was no way he could go to work in this state of mind; otherwise, it would cost people their lives, and that was the last thing he needed on his conscience.
Nobody said anything about the date he'd picked to use the one precious personal day. No one batted an eye, didn't ask if there was a specific reason why he was requesting the date off almost a year in advance. Nobody knew or, more than likely, nobody really cared.
After all, when everything happened last year, the Commission had just told him better luck next time, like her life hadn't mattered, like her blood wasn't on his hands. He was offered no professional help, nobody had even offered to let him talk to someone about everything. They told him to move on, to get over it, and act like the hero he was trained to be. They couldn't have the hot, handsome, happy-go-lucky hero sulking around like Endeavor, after all. That just wasn't his brand.
It was fucking disgusting.
But he did it. What other choice did he have?
For an entire year, he pretended like the incident was nothing. For most people, it was—the Commission had done their best to sweep it under the rug. It had been middle-of-the-paper news, something that most people hadn't even glanced at in the next day's edition. He pushed forward, smiling and laughing at events, posing for pictures, and signing autographs like nothing had fucking happened.
But it had.
Despite playing it cool on the outside, he had driven himself insane with it in his free time. He had googled her family, looked up their records—everything and anything he could find out. He needed the full story, wanted to understand.
Her mother was a school teacher, and her father had been a mechanic. He was a fucking drunk and very violent, with several former arrests and calls about domestic disputes in his file. Her mother was secretly trying to get them out, finally packing everything up and filing for custody. He had been served papers that morning, and when he finally found them, he'd snatched her before her mother could stop him. The rest was history.
He kept a copy of that paper in the bottom drawer of his desk. He looked at it every day before patrol, reminding himself that he couldn't afford to fuck up like that ever again. Nobody knew he had it, though he had a feeling that Haruki suspected. She'd come dangerously close to finding it on a few occasions now that she was back from her extended maternity leave.
Groaning, he pushed himself off the ground, flushing the toilet before starting the shower. He needed to get moving if he was going to get everything done. It took less than thirty minutes for him to shower and get himself dressed for the day. He piled the majority of his feathers onto the bed before swiftly pulling on a dark hoodie to cover what was left. He wanted to be as discreet as possible; he wasn't planning on playing the role of Hawks today. He didn't want anybody to know it was him. He reached for his phone, scrolling through the contacts before finding Haruki's number and quickly pressing the call button.
"What's up?" she asked when she answered, and he took a breath before letting out a soft sigh.
"Were you able to get money moved around like I asked?" he inquired, skipping straight to the point. He needed to get moving before the storm got any worse.
"Yeah. The account is good to go. It was set up and approved by the Commission as a charity foundation. They were thrilled by the idea, but they don't have a clue what it's for. It's got well over thirty million in it, and whatever you pull out today can be written off as a donation," she said before pausing, "But, Hawks, are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?"
"Thank you, Haruki," he replied before hanging up the phone. She was going to be pissed, but he would deal with it later. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about anything. Pulling up his hood and putting on a face mask, he left his apartment, walking down the stairs and stepping out into the cold downpour.
He didn't bother with an umbrella, the rain quickly soaking through his clothes as he made the twenty-minute walk through downtown. He entered the bank, letting out a relieved sigh when it was mostly empty. Grabbing a withdrawal slip, he quickly filled it out with the correct information before sighing at the amount. It wasn't nearly enough to make up for what they'd lost, but this check would come every year, ensuring she would never have to worry about money again.
Approaching the counter, he removed the face mask, giving the clerk a small smile. She blinked at him in confusion before recognition sparked her gaze, letting out a surprised "oh."
He quickly pressed a finger to his lips, giving her a wink. "Shhh," he whispered, glancing around as she nodded with a smile. "I need to make a quick withdrawal, but if you promise not to tell anyone that I'm here, I'll give you an autograph."
"Please!" she breathed as he handed her the withdrawal slip. She looked at it before looking back at him with a curious stare. Thankfully, she didn't ask why he needed so much, grabbing a large envelope and starting the withdrawal. It only took five or so minutes before she was sliding it back across the counter to him with a receipt.
"You got a pen and something for me to sign?" he asked, and she nodded, quickly grabbing one from the small pink cup next to her computer before nibbling her lip. She glanced at him one more time before grabbing a picture she had taped to the screen and handing it to him. She avoided his gaze as he took it, and as he looked down, he realized why.
It was one of his recent modeling shots, and of course, he was shirtless. He glanced back up at her, unable to stop the small bubble of amusement from rising within him before he swiftly signed it. Handing it back to her with a smile and a wink, he watched as her face turned an impressive shade of pink.
"Thanks again," he said, putting on his face mask before turning and heading out of the bank. He sniffed as he walked back outside, his wet clothes making him uncomfortable as the wind blew through him. Thankfully, it was just drizzling as he started for his next destination, his small moment of amusement from the bank quickly vanishing as that horrible ache in his chest returned and amplified with every single step he took.
It only took ten more minutes before he reached the front step of the small house. He could feel that sickening twist in his gut, threatening to force bile up through his throat. It certainly wasn't his first time walking here, but it would be the first time he pushed the gate open, the first time he would knock on the door, the first time he would hear her voice since-
He sucked in a breath, clutching the envelope as he steeled himself and pushed open the gate. It creaked, groaning as he stepped inside the yard. His footsteps sloshed as he made his way up the path, stepping onto the porch and knocking on the front door before he could wuss out. As footsteps approached the front door, he pulled the hood down lower, hoping it would be enough to cover the markings on his eyes.
"Can I help you?" a soft voice asked as the door opened, and he swallowed hard, praying that he could pull this off without her realizing what was happening.
"Good morning, my name is Kei. I am a delivery boy for the postal service. I was tasked with making sure you received this," he said, dropping his voice slightly. He held out the envelope, before sucking in a breath. He kept his eyes on her feet, not sure if he could bring himself to look into her eyes. Next year he would have Haruki set this entire thing up. He would just mail a check, direct deposit into their account, but this first one, he needed to do himself.
She reached out, taking it, and he quickly turned as he heard her begin to open it. The last thing he needed was her asking why he was dropping off so much fucking cash at her house with no explanation.
"Wait! There has to be a mistake? What is this for? Who is it from?!" She called out, and he turned to look at her, their eyes meeting for just a second. His heart twisted as he looked at her. She looked so tired, her grief obvious even a year later. They looked alike, she looked so much like her mom they could've been twins. She narrowed them before they widened, letting out a gasp. "H-Hawks? Is that you?"
"No, of course not!" he cried out before making a break for it. He rushed past the gate as she called out after him, but he didn't stop until he was safely hidden away in the comforting darkness of an alley nearby. His chest heaved as his body trembled, tears spilling over before he could stop them. He allowed himself just a second to cry, sobbing as he rested his forehead on the brick of the building.
"I'm so f-fucking s-sorry," he cried to himself over and over again, like it would change something, like it would actually ease the fucking guilt that was eating him alive from the inside out, like a goddamn virus. He felt like his chest was going to explode, his body aching as his stomach heaved. No, he couldn't do this here. He still had one more thing he needed to do, one more person to apologize to.
Biting his tongue, he took a breath, forcing himself to calm. He wiped his face, shoving his hands back into his pocket as he walked out of the alley and into the corner shop. He grabbed a bouquet of flowers, swiftly checking out before he could be recognized and started the nearly twenty-minute walk to his next destination.
He was almost there when the storm decided to pick up, the rain coming down in sheets as he pushed forward. He was soaked to the bone, shivering and cold, but he didn't care. He didn't hesitate when he reached the black iron gate, opening it and stepping inside. He'd only been here once before, but it was burned into his memory. He knew exactly where to go; after all, how could he ever forget watching from afar as they lowered that little tiny casket into the ground?
He'd been told not to go, but how could he not? He'd been the one responsible; he should be forced to watch the consequences of his actions. So that day, he sent his sidekicks on patrol ahead of him, hiding behind a tree as he watched the service. He still remembered the sound her mother made when they started to lower the casket, nearly causing him to vomit. It haunted his every waking moment.
He reached her grave within seconds, the dirt now packed flat, small tufts of grass starting to sprout from it. He pulled down his hood and removed his face mask as he struggled to breathe. They'd finally added a stone, a gorgeous marble, her name neatly etched into it. He kneeled, placing the small bouquet of flowers before reaching up to trace the name with a finger.
Kairi Sasaki
Beloved daughter, taken from this world far too soon.
"I'm so fucking sorry," He whispered, his hand dropping as he shuddered. "I am so sorry I wasn't fast enough. I am so sorry that I'm a fraud, a liar. You deserved a real hero, and instead, you got me..." He stood, allowing the rain to pound his body, the cold water washing away the warmth of his tears before he could even really feel them.
He wasn't sure how long he stood there, how long he allowed the rain to soak him as he stared at that tiny spot of dirt, until he felt a hand slipping into his, the rain suddenly blocked out by a large black umbrella being held above him.
"I thought I might find you here," Haruki whispered, pulling him back to reality. "I've been calling you for hours. You're soaked to the bone. Let's get you back to my house and warmed. You're shaking, honey."
"No," he whispered, and she frowned as she turned to the grave with a sigh. She wrapped herself around his arm, resting her head on his shoulder as they sat in silence for a few minutes. So what if he was wet and uncomfortable? She was dead. There were worse things in the world than allowing the rain to soak you.
"Hawks, it's seriously time to go. You need to stop torturing yourself over this. It's time to go home," she said gently, tugging his arm, and this time he didn't argue, finally allowing her to walk him from the cemetery. She opened her car door for him, and he cast one last long look at her grave before getting inside. He grabbed his phone from his pocket, surprised it was still working considering how wet it was. Without hesitation, he texted the Commission HR department, making sure his personal day was requested a year in advance.
He had a feeling he was going to need it.