He groaned, struggling to push his body off the ground. Everything felt wrong; his head was spinning as he attempted to clear his vision, his amber eyes desperately darting around to try and gain his bearings. His body ached and strained with the effort, every limb feeling like it had been made from lead as he struggled to move. He could hardly see in front of him, squinting to bring things into focus. His vision had never been this blurry before. Had he knocked his head that hard when he landed?
His throat burned from the way All for One had held him, and his ears were ringing, making it difficult to really hear anything else happening around him. Through blurry eyes, he watched as All for One finally departed from their battlefield. He panted, resting his head on the ground for a brief moment. He just needed a second to catch his breath, that's all. He just needed a short break, and he'd earned it, right? It was just five minutes; he only needed five minutes...
However, a soft groan finally made it past the ringing in his ears, and he found the strength to raise his head. Who was it? Were they hurt and needed help? What the hell was he thinking? He was Hawks. He needed to get up, needed to get back out there and help. He was trained for this, after all.
He let out his own groan, lifting his head and narrowing his eyes until he found the source of the groan he had heard. He struggled to push himself up, his wings not responding to him despite attempts to use them for some kind of leverage. He bit his tongue, turning his head towards his back, his heart twisting at the sight.
All for One really had taken his quirk.
Was that the reason his body suddenly felt so funny, why his eyes were so out of focus? He let out another small groan, pushing himself to his knees as he struggled for breath, his chest burning with the effort. He couldn't focus on Fierce Wings right now; he would just have to deal with it all later. He needed to focus on helping the people around him, and that's when his eyes finally landed on the source of the groan he'd heard earlier.
Fumikage.
He pushed himself onto his feet, stumbling towards where his intern was lying as he fought the dread in his stomach. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs as he tried his hardest to recall his rescue and medical training. He was so unnaturally still, the rise and fall of his chest so faint, he almost missed it the first time he looked him over.
"Tsukuyomi," he said, gently shaking his shoulders, but there was no response. The young hero's body was bruised and scraped, the majority of his hero outfit missing as he lay in a pool of...blood? The crimson liquid squished between his fingers, causing him to look down in horror as he scrambled backward with a yelp. He didn't remember there being so much blood when he ran over, but now it was rushing out of him like a fountain. Dear god, why was there so much blood?
And then suddenly he was falling backward, screaming as he twisted and writhed through the air. He needed to spread his wings, catch himself, but he couldn't. They were gone, and he couldn't stop the panic that raced through him as he screamed for help. He turned his head watching as the ground got closer and closer before squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself.
He sat up in bed, panting as he kicked off the comforter that was tangled around him in panic. He tried to roll out of bed and stand, but the damn thing tangled around his legs, sending him crashing to the floor. He tried to catch himself, missing and landing chin first on the ground. His teeth crashed into his tongue, his mouth filling with the taste of copper as he let out an angry groan.
"Fucking shit," he cursed, quickly spitting the offensive-tasting liquid to the floor, groaning as he tried to calm himself. The war was over, he was safe. Fumikage was alive, still living happily in Japan. He was currently running his old agency, and from what Jeanist had told him two nights ago during their latest phone call, he was happily planning his wedding to his high school girlfriend.
It had been a while since he'd had a nightmare about the war, at least a few months. They'd slowed significantly since his move here, but it honestly didn't surprise him they'd started again. After everything that happened at the bonfire, it really only made sense for them to start up again.
But what he hadn't expected was the dream that had the exact opposite effect. A dream of her skin against his, setting his body on fire. His hands touching all over her as she ran her own down his stomach and played through the hair of his happy trail. Dirty whispers in a sweet southern accent, her lips wrapped tightly around his cock before finally bending her over and sinking himself home.
Fuck, he'd woken up from that one sticky and embarrassed. Having to throw his sheets and underwear into the washer before jacking off to the lingering images in the shower like a goddamn teenager. Jesus, he hadn't had a wet dream since he'd turned nineteen, but there was just something about her that made him fucking ache for her.
It felt wrong, completely inappropriate for him to be having those types of dreams and thoughts about a woman he hardly knew, but just he couldn't fucking stop himself. He'd spent far too much in the last week fisting his dick to thoughts of her, instead of being a productive member of society. But he couldn't get close to her even if he wanted to, especially not with the issue of–
The sound of his phone vibrating quickly drew his attention, causing him to glance up at his nightstand in confusion. He honestly didn't get a lot of text messages and phone calls from people, so who the hell was trying to get a hold of him so early?
With a large sigh, he quickly worked on untangling himself from his bedding, standing up and throwing the thick blanket onto the bed before grabbing his phone.
Anthony: Hey, you wanna grab a beer tonight? Haven't seen you since the bonfire, thought maybe we could hang.
His heart pounded in his chest as he reread the message again to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Anthony still really wanted to be his friend, despite everything that had happened last week? They had been nice to him after his little anxiety episode at the start of the party, allowing him to drink and sing with them.
Anthony was funny, dragging him around and introducing him to people as Y/N just laughed and followed behind them. He tried his hardest to focus on the conversations Anthony forced him into, but all he could focus on was her. He found himself actively looking for her, smiling as he stole little glances.
The girl who had held his hand, the girl who hadn't judged.
His girl.
The sudden thought was strange, taking him by surprise as he quickly looked away from her and took another chug from the can of beer he was holding. He had no right to even dream of something happening between them; he needed to stop before he got way too far ahead of himself.
So he pushed it down, trying to ignore the way his body buzzed every time she was close to him. The three of them all hung out until the bonfire finally ended, and they decided to call it a night. He watched as she and Anthony got into their respective cars, each giving him a small wave goodbye before turning them on and pulling away. He smiled as he watched her headlights disappear before walking to his own truck with a stupid smile on his face.
Despite his outburst and fear at the start, he had ended up doing okay. He managed to make some new friends; Anthony had promised that he would get in contact to hang out, so maybe things would be okay after all.
He had just opened the door, getting ready to get in when he heard the footsteps racing towards him. He turned to try and see who it was, but they were quicker. The door was swiftly yanked out of his grasp, slamming shut and sending his heart rate spiking as he was roughly shoved against the cool red metal. His head pounded as it cracked against the bottom of the window, his breath hitching as a hand fisted his shirt, keeping him pinned.
"Thought I should introduce myself, Hawks," a husky voice said, and Keigo swallowed nervously at the sound of his hero name. He blinked a few times, trying to get his vision to stop swimming long enough to recognize who the hell was holding him. "Name's Ash. I just needed to know if you make a habit of havin' women chase ya into the woods like that?"
"N-No!" He quickly said, shaking his head as he looked at the other man. It took him a second, but he finally remembered where he'd seen him before. It was the other man from the market that afternoon, the one who had looked angry at him. Was this entire interaction just because she had chased after him? He hadn't meant to start an issue; it certainly wasn't on purpose. "It wasn't like that. I just got scared of the fire. I didn't ask for her to chase me."
Ash quickly pulled him away from the truck before slamming him against it again. It knocked the wind from his lungs, a pathetic sounding gasp escaping his lips as Ash fisted his shirt. His face was only inches from Keigo's as he sneered down at him. What the hell was this guy's problem? If he knew that he was a former hero, then why the hell would he worry about him hurting her. He'd lost his quirk in the war, not his fucking morals.
"Every single thing that's wrong in her life is because of you." He snarled, his eyes narrowing dangerously as Keigo grasped his wrists in an attempt to free himself. "You don't deserve anything from her. Not her attention, not her affection, and certainly not her fucking kindness. I know all about you and your little problem,"
His eyes widened as Ash's words finally translated, making him swallow as the other man let out a soft laugh at his reaction. "What? Didn't think anyone would know you're a dirty fuckin' addict just because your damn wings are gone? Couldn't deal with your shit like a real man, so you turned to fuckin' drugs. How fucking pathetic is that? Went from the number two hero in all of Japan to alleyway trash. Now you listen to me, cause I'm only sayin' it once. You stay the hell away from her. She's mine, ya hear me?"
He blinked a few times, trying his hardest to run through everything that had just been said to him before quickly nodding his head in agreement. It didn't matter if he understood fully in the moment; he wanted his fucker off him as soon as possible. He reeked of cigarettes and alcohol, and it was taking everything in him not to shove the asshole away from him. He could take him down easily if he really wanted to; he had more than enough Commission training to do so, but he didn't want to fight. He wanted to put those days behind him.
The silence between them was tense before Ash shoved him roughly against the truck one more time with an annoyed sounding grunt before finally letting him go and walking away. Keigo watched, holding his breath as he stalked across the field before climbing into his lifted truck. He stayed completely still, pressing himself against his door as he watched the truck turn on, headlights brightly flashing out across the field before he took off down the gravel road, tires squealing.
He let out a soft sigh before glancing down at the phone in his hand and reading the message for a third time. He hadn't really reached out to Anthony since, afraid that he'd secretly been set up. Why the hell else would he have told him to wear red if Ash was her boyfriend? Was he just a pawn in some sick type of game for them? But why the hell would Anthony reach back out to him if that was true? Surely they'd already had their fun with him by now. Maybe he should have taken Jeanist up on his offer and booked a ticket back to Japan.
He clenched his jaw at the thought, letting out a disgusted-sounding snort as he rolled his eyes at himself. Look at the once great pro-hero Hawks, giving up way too fucking easily on something once again. Running from his problems like the absolute pussy he was. Well, fuck that shit, he was tired of running away. He was a new person, in a new country. He had questions and if he wanted answers, meeting Anthony was going to be the quickest way to get them.
Keigo: See you at eight?
Anthony: Fuck yeah! Can't wait.
He arrived at the bar around seven forty-five, wanting to make sure he was early enough to get his favorite spot at the bar. He settled in, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel before flagging down the bartender to order something. He definitely needed something to settle his fucking nerves before Anthony got there, otherwise he might as well get up and go home now.
"The usual?" The man asked him with a soft smile, and Keigo blinked up at him with a shy smile in return. He was an older man, probably in his late forties or early fifties. Short brown hair graying along the sides and wrinkles creasing the corners of his eyes. For the longest time, Larry had been the only person he talked to after moving to Tennessee, never once judging his terrible English as he poured him drink after drink. He helped him learn new words and corrected his grammar as he worked on learning. If he was honest, he was the closest thing he'd had to a friend in a long time.
"You look like you might need somethin' stronger than just a beer tonight, Keigo," he said with a small chuckle, grabbing a whiskey glass from behind the bar, quickly reaching in and wiping it off with a rag. "You wanna talk about it?"
It was that very moment that an idea dawned upon him, his eyes widening as he nodded. Why the hell hadn't he just thought of asking him in the first place? "That girl, the one that sang in here last week. What song was that?" He watched as Larry hesitated for just a second, glancing at him before placing the glass down and grabbing a bottle of whiskey off the shelf behind him.
"Just a Dream by Carrie Underwood, I believe," he replied, tipping the bottle and allowing the amber liquid to fill the glass. Keigo watched with interest as it quickly became a double pour, before he put the whiskey bottle down and slid it over to him. "Here ya go bud. Let me know if you need more."
Keigo thanked him, quickly bringing the liquid to his lips and allowing the alcohol to burn his throat on the way down. He pulled out his phone, quickly googling the name of the song and clicking on the first link that offered him the lyrics. He read through them, his brows furrowing as he worked through each line before backing out and clicking a YouTube link for the music video. It only took about a minute for him to start tearing up, his hand covering his mouth as he watched through it.
Why the hell would she sing this? What the hell had happened to her?
"Keigo!" Anthony's voice sliced through the silence, and Keigo quickly wiped his face before shoving his phone back into his pocket and taking a deep sip of his whiskey. He turned, giving him a small smile and wave, and Anthony was quick to join him, sliding into the stool next to him.
"I'll take a beer, please, Larry," he said cheerfully, the older man giving him a wide smile in return before turning and looking at Keigo in curiosity. He quickly avoided the bartender's gaze, hastily taking a sip from his own drink. Was it that weird to see him at the bar with someone else for once?
It only took a second for Larry to deliver Anthony his beer, quickly turning around and wiping up something behind the bar as Anthony took a large gulp from the glass in his hand.
"So," he said, putting down the glass after a few seconds with a satisfied 'ah', before turning and looking at him with a frown. "I really am so sorry that I didn't reach out to ya sooner; work has just been a little tense. But, I uh, just wanted to say I am so sorry about the fire. I never woulda invited ya if I had known it would trigger ya like that, and I certainly didn't think about the fact you might not know what to expect. I've lived here my entire life and never been friends with someone who doesn't know, so I promise I'll think more about it next time. But I'm serious about replacing your shirt and everythin'. You just needa tell me what size ya wear, or we can go out shoppin' one day if ya want."
Relief flooded through him at Anthony's words, helping to set some of his anxiety at ease. "No worries. I was not a fan of that shirt anyway. I am sorry for causing a scene and for upsetting Y/N's boyfriend. It was not my intention for anyone to come after me; I am not some kind of creep, that I can promise."
"Boyfriend?" Anthony asked, his brows pinching together in confusion as he looked at him. "She doesn't have a boyfriend. She's not seeing anyone that I know of."
"But Ash–"
"Ash?" Anthony asked, cutting him off quickly. "As in Asher? That's not her boyfriend, that's our boss."
"But he told me she was his. That I need to stay away from what was his." Keigo said, unable to stop the confusion in his voice. If he wasn't her boyfriend, then why the hell had he confronted him like that?
"Tell me everything that happened," Anthony said with a frown.
So he did, leaving out the fact that Ash knew his hero name and about his addiction. It was obvious that he'd actually kept that information to himself since nobody else here had said anything to him about it. He was grateful for that at least; the last thing he wanted was for people to know, to talk and whisper. It was embarrassing enough, and people knowing was one of the biggest reasons he'd decided to run from Japan after rehab. To have it out in public here would destroy everything he'd worked so hard to establish.
"Jesus fuck," Anthony whispered, rubbing his chin as he stared at the wall behind the bar, seemingly lost in thought. "Is he fuckin' serious? I mean, I knew he had a lil' crush on her, but that's takin' it a little bit too far. Would explain his fuckin' attitude the last few days though," He quickly turned to him, giving him a large smile before shaking his head.
"You don't get to worryin' at all about Ash. He's just jealous because she's interested in you and not him. Serves him right, the fuckin' prick."
"Interested in me?" Keigo asked, amber eyes widening in surprise before he quickly shook his head. "No. She was just being nice. I do not think she is interested in me."
"She was askin' about you, ya know?" Anthony said with a chuckle, taking another sip from the new beer Larry had just placed before him, watching Keigo from the corner of his eye. Keigo stiffened, eyes wide as he stared down at the whiskey in his glass, his heart rate picking up as he slowly turned to look at him. "She wouldn't have gone chasin' after just anyone. Plus, she wouldn't've asked me if I'd heard from ya if she wasn't. Haven't seen her interested in someone like that in years, not since Luke."
"Luke?" He asked in confusion, and Anthony blinked at him in shock only serving to confuse him further. Was he supposed to know who Luke was?
"You really don't know?" he asked, and Keigo quickly shook his head. Anthony took a second before draining the rest of the beer before grimacing. "It's a small town, just figured you'd already know. People love to talk and shit, but I guess you might as well hear it from me then. I doubt she'd talk to ya about it herself."
So Keigo sat and listened quietly as Anthony started telling the story, starting all the way back when they were in high school together. How Luke and her had gotten together, staying together through graduation when he joined the military. How Anthony had kept her company while he was at boot camp, how they were inseparable, spending weekends and evenings together as he watched his two friends build a life together.
He talked about their wedding, about how they were so excited about it and that he was their best man. Keigo smiled as Anthony told him he'd been so drunk that he'd passed out in the field next to the dance floor and they didn't find him until the next morning. It was nice, it sounded perfect, but he couldn't help but wonder why Luke wasn't here if they were so happy together, and that's when the story twisted.
"He got the orders only two weeks after the wedding." Anthony said, and Keigo could feel the bile rising in his throat as his heart thumped loudly. He stared at Anthony, praying to every God he knew that his assumption of where this was going was wrong, but it wasn't. He could hear the words Anthony said next, sounding faded and far away, as Keigo stared at the wall behind the bar in pure horror.
"He died in Japan with Stars and Stripes. He never made it home from the war."
And suddenly Ash's words made perfect sense, her song made perfect sense, and Keigo could've cried. He wanted nothing more than to scream, lash out, and fucking throw things until he was panting and exhausted, but if he did, people would ask questions. How would he even begin explaining that? So instead, he drained the rest of his whiskey, gagging against the taste as it burned his throat before excusing himself to the bathroom.
Everything felt like a blur around him as he burst through the door to the restroom, quickly locking it behind him as he struggled for his breath. His body screamed for the high, to forget it all, but he didn't have a fucking dealer here even if he wanted to give in to the impulse. Instead he turned, throwing his fist into the glass mirror and cursing as it shattered against his knuckles.
How had he never considered the Americans that had died against Shigaraki? He'd been so caught up in his own shit he'd never stopped to consider the impact the war had around the entire world.
"Shit, shit, fucking shit!" He cursed, shoving his bleeding knuckles under the tap and turning on the warm water. It really was all his fucking fault, she'd lost everything because of him.
How the hell was he supposed to tell her who he really was after all this?