Work Text:
“Oh shit.”
That’s all Hawks gets out before the ground comes up to meet him at terrifying speed. He braces as best as he can, but with six people clinging to his back, shoulders, and feathers, there’s not much he can do other than force his wings to parachute and prepare for impact.
It’s brutal.
His ankles take the worst of it, but with the weight across his back, his knees fold too. He and six other people slam into the ground, elbows and skulls and teeth clacking against each other with jarring force. Hawks loses his breath, at least two ribs, and his vision in the process. Mainly because someone lands on his head, crushing his face into the grass. He can feel his visor snap over the bridge of his nose, and he privately seizes at the thought that it might stab him in the eye.
“Fugh,” he garbles out, his lips mashed into dirt, grass stuck between his teeth. The civilians he saved are trying to get off of him but they’re uncoordinated, pushing him further into the ground as they shift. Hawks almost cries out when one of them plants a hand on his torso, forcing his ribs to grind against each other. Tears drip down his nose into the grass below and his one free foot kicks feebly in pain.
It’s a fucking nightmare.
Still, once they’re off him and trying to help him sit upright, trying to apologize, trying to brush him off, he has to smile, blood and grass in his teeth and all. Because he can’t let them know he’s hurt, even though it’s clear he can’t stand. Can’t let them know he’s mad, even if his smile is more bared teeth than real cheer. Reporters are already beginning to swarm, drawn by the villain fight that’d started this whole clusterfuck to begin with. Questions are shouted at him, demanding to know why he’d carried people himself instead of letting his feathers take the load like he usually does. Demanding to know if the villain has been caught.
The answers are: because the villain had a quirk that fucked with his telepathy somehow, and no, he doesn’t know if the villain has been caught because he’d been too busy rescuing the people said villain chucked off a fucking building.
The answers he gives are:
“The villain had a quirk that disrupted the air, so I wanted to see everyone safely to the ground myself!” and “My sidekicks are tracking the villain now!”
His body aches.
One of the paramedics, bless them, stretchers him away before he can be asked more. They wash his face, let him rinse his mouth, and butterfly bandage the cut over the bridge of his nose. Then they assess the real damage.
Both of his ankles are swollen, possibly fractured. His kneecap on his left leg is dislocated and needs to be popped back in place, but the paramedic tells him the doctors will want an x-ray before they do anything, for fear of causing further damage. His other knee isn’t visibly damaged, but when the paramedic bends it even the littlest bit, Hawks’ vision goes black.
In the rush of adrenaline, he hadn’t noticed how destroyed his legs were.
They’re just preparing for the ambulance to move him to the hospital when a big black van shows up and the Commission medics step out. Hawks has to commend them for their response time - the paramedics haven’t even had him for ten minutes.
“It’s okay,” he tells the EMT when it looks like he wants to object to Hawks’ transfer. The HPSC guys are already unlocking the gurney from its safety holds. “Standard procedure for the top ten. Specialized hospitals and doctors and all that jazz.” He waggles his fingers in a weak imitation of jazz hands and is gratified to see the EMT relax.
Good, that makes one of them.
Because when he’s wheeled into the HPSC’s fancy underground hospital fifteen minutes later, he sees his handler waiting for him - sees the expression on her face.
And, much like an uncontrolled fall from the sky bearing the weight of six full-grown adults across his back, Hawks can only think of one response.
Oh shit.
—--
A week later, by virtue of some truly powerful healing quirks, Hawks is fully recovered.
Physically, that is. Mentally, he feels like a windshield after a hail storm. Battered, cracked, and possibly a little dangerous to touch.
Four weeks. They’d given him four fucking weeks of additional training, trying to correct the flaws they’d seen in his performance. Trying to build up his stamina for carrying heavy loads when his telepathy isn’t an option.
“This is ridiculous,” he mutters to himself, teetering on the edge of a roof next to a particularly headache-inducing billboard that’s flashing up the name of some new karaoke bar. His eye twitches in time with the bright strobes. “Get the internet up in arms about your health one time…”
There had been a general outcry from those who’d seen him strapped to a gurney, even though a health report was released within an hour, saying he’d be just fine and not to worry, the doctors were just taking precautions, blah blah blah. The full extent of his injuries was kept hidden, but that was standard practice. Couldn’t have villains seeing an opportunity. Couldn’t remind the civilians that heroes were also humans.
Because heroes can’t be seen as weak.
Hawks can’t have a bad day, or be down sick, or take a vacation. Their society idolizes overworking almost as much as it idolizes heroes. Once, a sidekick had taken a picture of Hawks, unconscious at his desk after fourty-nine hours in the field, and the internet had a field day, praising his work ethic and his dedication. Of course, his fans told him to take a break, to rest, to eat, but at the end of the day, it was him working himself into a stupor that pushed his approval ratings to something on par with All Might.
And that’s what the Commission really wants. They want their own Pillar of Peace, or whatever. A superhero with no weaknesses, no flaws. A perfect little creation that can step into the number one spot just as soon as All Might retires and Endeavor says one extra insensitive thing to a fan. Fuck, the only reason he hasn’t surpassed Endeavor yet is because Fukuoka has about a tenth of the population that Musutafu has, and even fewer criminals per person. Hawks literally doesn’t have enough criminals to keep up with Endeavor’s capture ratio. And that’s it.
Which isn’t to say he’s not worked to the bone daily anyway. He has roughly two thousand feathers, and every single one of them sees use during every single shift. Even if he’s just helping a little old lady with her grocery bags, or scooping a ball out of the street for a bunch of kids, or picking up a dropped Suica card and returning it to a commuter. He’s everywhere, all the time, stretching his mind and his body and his wings to support all of the people under his protection.
But it’s not enough, he thinks bitterly, burying his face into his forearm. I’m not enough. I can’t - I can’t do everything alone. Fastest hero around, and I can’t keep up with what they want from me.
The thought chokes him up a bit and fuck he really will crack under the pressure if he lets himself cry now. He tries to shake it off, tries to reorient himself toward selflessness once again. It’s how he’d been trained after all - the good of the many before the good for himself. He can handle this.
Would be nice, though, he thinks bleakly, to have a break. Or, barring that, some support.
Wait… support?
He blinks, the word triggering a memory of Miruko on the news earlier, talking about how her torso brace kept her supported when she landed from really high jumps. Or Kamui woods, the night before, talking about the special oil he used to keep his limbs healthy and strong and fireproof. Or fuck, even Endeavor, commenting on the new boots that much improved his limited flight capabilities.
Support...
Now that… that’s not a bad idea.
Hawks is known for not having support items, per se. The ones listed in his hero stats are his headphones, visor, etc. All things he can do without if need be - nothing integral to his survival as a hero. Most of the top ten are that way, frankly, as support equipment is largely considered a ‘weakness’. To some degree, that isn’t wrong - if a hero has an obvious target like a pair of gloves or a helmet or something, and they can’t fight if that equipment is tampered with or destroyed, it makes for a weaker hero.
That said… every hero has some form of help. Hawks’ eyes dry out when flying long distances if he’s not wearing his visor, and the headphones cut down on noise, relieving at least one of his oft-overwhelmed senses. But those are both lightweight and easily removable because his trademark is speed. He can’t carry bulky support equipment and still be the fastest hero around.
But if I found something light enough to wear that would get the Commission off my back… he thinks, a plan beginning to form.
The Commission had taken him to task for relying so much on his telepathy that he’d let his strength training fall to the wayside. They’d argued that he should have been able to take the impact of landing without blowing out his knees and ankles. On top of that, they’d given him grief for getting caught up in the villain’s quirk, which had taken his telepathic control of his feathers off the table. His training over the next few weeks is fully concentrated on speed and strength, trying to push him to be faster, stronger, better than ever.
The worst part is that he can see their point. Sort of. If he’d been faster, he wouldn’t have gotten hit with a quirk. If he’d been stronger, he could have taken the impact of the landing without so much damage. And he had let his gym time slide. Mostly because his calendar kept getting filled with more shifts, more interviews, more modeling contracts, more everything else, that he just didn’t have the time. The only nice thing he can say about this mandatory training is that it has gotten some of his more frivolous appointments moved to later dates.
Even so… he’s always been the type to work smarter, not harder. If he shows improvement to the Commission and doesn’t beef it so visibly in the field again, fucking great. He’ll buy himself a round and call it a day.
For the time being, he pulls out his phone and starts searching for discrete support equipment specialists.
—--
Touya is tits deep inside a water tank, about to stress test a respirator or die trying, when Jin’s voice echoes from the loudspeakers in the workshop.
“Yo Dabs! Gotta wild request in your inbox! It’s perfectly tame, you’ll be able to knock it out in an hour.”
Eyes squinting, Touya breathes through the mask wrapped around his face, trying to figure out which of Jin’s voices to believe. He’s taken to switching back and forth, and it’s made deciphering his comments twice as hard.
Popping the bit out of his mouth, he calls back. “Just read it to me!”
“Fuck you, read it yourself! Yes, sir, bossman! No problem!
Touya rolls his eyes, but waits for a beat and is rewarded when Jin clears his throat importantly.
“Ahem! Dear Mr. Dabi - hah, he calls you Mister, like you’re an old man - I’ve been reading your reviews, and I’m interested in the ones that mention your absolute discretion - that doesn’t sound shady at all. I promise I’m not up to anything illegal - that’s what they all say! - but I won’t be able to give you much information about myself, including my name, location, age, etc. - holy shit this person is a walking red flag. If you’re still interested after that, I’d like to chat. Fat chance of that! Hell yeah, sounds friendly as fuck!
Eyebrows up, Touya calls out, “Hang on, Jin, I’m coming up.”
With that, he levers himself out of the tank, dripping all over the grate below. He’d stripped out of his t-shirt and jeans for the water test and he doesn’t bother with them now. Jin’s seen him in his boxers before - most notably after the gasoline incident - and the cloner doesn’t give a damn.
“Damn, boss, nice ass. Get stuffed, you back with a crack.”
He just makes inappropriate comments, Touya thinks with a sigh, striding into the main office of their shop. Jin is leaned back in his secretary chair, a pair of headphones around his neck and a hand-knitted beanie pulled down over his eyebrows. He grins around his cigarette when he sees Touya, then immediately flips him the bird.
“Don’t trust me with your super weird emails? Good call, I wouldn’t trust me either.”
“It’s not that,” Touya says with a wave of his hand, leaning over Jin so he can read the email himself. It says all the shit that Jin quoted without any sort of signature or identifier. Even the address is just a handful of random numbers - like it came from a bot or generator. Touya frowns. “I’d almost say that we should delete it, but they’re talking about my reviews…”
“You think they’re legit? Who cares what you think, pea for brains!”
Touya snorts. “I think the risk of them being a villain is stupid fucking high, is what I think.” He taps his finger on the desk, thinking. “Still, if they’re not…”
Ten years ago, Touya had been burning the shit out of himself for his dickhead dad’s approval, and it was only the intervention of a support equipment specialist that kept him from going off the deep end. He’d run into the old woman while picking up groceries, and she’d noticed the burns on his arms. Back then, Touya hadn’t wanted to fess up to who he was either, when she asked. He didn’t want people to know what a disappointment he was to his dad.
So, no, it’s not only villains who want to keep a low profile when dealing with support equipment. Could just be some stupid kid - especially since they mentioned age - in need of some help.
He mulls it over, weighing the pros and cons. Ultimately, it’s Jin who decides it for him.
“You wanna tell ‘em you’ll take ‘em on?” Jin asks, stubbing out his cigarette and staring up at Touya with a dumb grin. “Fuck that, that’s as stupid as when you took me on.”
Touya pauses for all of one second before his decision is made.
Worth the risk.
“I’ll take the request,” Touya says, patting Jin’s shoulder solidly. “Ask them to give me a description of what they’re looking for and I can get them a quote.”
“Sure thing, bossman! Do it yourself, you useless lump.”
Jin immediately begins working on answering the email, so Touya guesses the first reply was the correct one.
In the meantime, he returns to the water tank, and the dubious safety of stress testing his own creations.
—--
Later that night, after having nearly drowned only once, he curls up on his beat-up office couch with his laptop, fully intent on noting down the results of his test. Jin has gone home for the night and the office area is dark, just like Touya likes it. He’ll retreat upstairs to his little apartment once he’s done with his notes. Maybe make himself some spicy ramen after having pruned in cold water all afternoon. Possibly followed by some hot tea and a bath. Touya coughs a little - a byproduct of aspirating water - and opens his notes, only to get sidetracked by the notification banner from his email account.
It’s from the same address as before - the one with all the numbers - and he clicks on it, intrigued by what the response could be.
Mr. Dabi,
Thank you for your prompt reply. I’m in a position where my quirk sometimes requires me to land hard, from great heights. Unfortunately, my quirk does not affect my legs, so it’d be like any normal person jumping from several stories up. I’m looking for a shock absorption brace of some kind that I can wear beneath my pants - something thin or even some kind of tape, so it won’t be noticeable that I’m wearing it. Anything that can take the impact of, say, 75-100kph without destroying my legs. It also needs to be flexible. Basically, I need to be able to do the moves an acrobat would do without hindrance. It also can’t interfere with or change any of my current clothing.
It’s a tall ask, I know. I’m hoping you can help me out, though. Price is no object.
Once again, the email has no signature and no other clue as to who it might be. That doesn’t bother Touya so much as the problem the person is posing to him.
A quirk that makes them land hard but doesn’t affect their legs? he thinks, leaning back into the worn cushions, his eyebrows furrowed. Quirk incompatibility?
He wrinkles his nose, putting the familiar pang of solidarity aside. It’s not his job to project onto his clients.
Skimming the email again, he thinks about the logistics of creating something thin enough to be concealed beneath clothes, but strong enough to withstand the kind of force the client is talking about. There really aren’t that many materials that have that kind of strength-to-stealth ratio. And that’s not even taking into account the flexibility needed for acrobatics.
Maybe that new spider steel that David Shield’s been presenting at all those support item road shows? He thinks, finger tapping mindlessly on his laptop. Or some of that carbon fiber shit that Eraserhead has in his scarf. It’s light enough to carry around his neck all day without giving him a permanent C-spine, but it’s strong enough to tie down rampaging villains.
Thoughts and ideas swirl in his head, and he finds himself typing back.
Send me your measurements and I’ll see what I can do.
He almost hits send before his eyes catch on the final line of the client’s email. Then he smirks.
Payment upfront. Initial quote, subject to change for materials or time involved, is 400,000 yen.
Then he hits send, wondering if the client will ghost at the prospect of dropping so much money all at once. Instead, he’s barely had time to bring up his report before he gets a reply.
Done deal. See my measurements below.
Damn, this person is fast. Touya looks down at the measurements and a picture begins to build in his mind’s eye of what this person’s legs look like. Not too tall, thicker quads and calves - maybe for the landings that he does? - and absolutely twig-like ankles. Like - what.
He stares at the ankle measurement for a second, then looks down at his hand, making his fingers into a C-shape and bringing them together until the tips of his thumb and middle finger almost touch. It’s a rough approximation, but it’s hilarious.
“No wonder they need something to help with landing if they’ve got pogo sticks for ankles,” he snickers, shooting the client a “got it” reply.
It’s difficult to concentrate on his notes for the breathing apparatus after that. He keeps glancing at the email stream between him and the mystery client, turning over in his head the possibilities for a shock-absorbent material that’s strong and light and thin. Without even thinking about it, he begins jotting down notes so he doesn’t forget, which then progresses to him pulling up articles he’s read recently on the material used in All Might’s suit which kept it from ripping every time he threw a punch.
Creative juices flowing, Touya doesn’t get a wink of sleep.
—--
Hawks doesn’t expect much from the support equipment specialist, code-named Dabi, after he sends his measurements. What he’s looking for is super difficult and fiddly to create, and he’s pretty sure if there was a solution to the landing problem, the Commission would’ve figured it out by now.
Pretty sure.
Regardless, he doesn’t let himself think about it overly much. He just goes about his patrols for the rest of the week, then does his paperwork, his interviews, and his extra training, while he waits for Dabi to get back to him.
Not much is known about the specialist from what Hawks can tell. He’s got an address listed to receive mail at, but it’s just a drop box, not an actual office or shop. Hawks would know - he scouted the place out while he was trying to decide if he should trust this person.
The reviews had helped him make the decision.
Hundreds of ‘scandalous’ articles existed of heroes, celebrities, and public figures getting outed for using some form of support or enhancement for their quirks. Half the time, the people doing the ‘outing’ were the support equipment creators, too proud of their own work to keep their silence.
Dabi doesn’t have any complaints against him in that department. Apparently, he’s totally fine remaining an anonymous resource to those in need, which Hawks can only consider a blessing. The fact that Dabi also has numerous reviews singing his praises for figuring out problems that’d stumped medical and support specialists alike? Well - that does give Hawks some inkling of hope. Maybe this guy is just a genius or something. Maybe he’s just stubborn.
Maybe, with a name like cremation, he leaves no stone unturned. He keeps trying until there’s nothing left to try, Hawks muses, coasting to his favorite observational rooftop, where he gets a bird’s-eye view of a good five city blocks in all directions. Feathers drift down from his wings, scouting out in twelve different directions - one o’clock through twelve o’clock - and he lets his concentration follow them as they fly through the city, listening for disturbances, complaints, and piping hot tea.
“…manager asked me to work overtime again. I haven’t slept more than four hours in over two weeks…”
“...can’t believe the Softbank Hawks lost to the Musutafa Rays…”
“...think I can eat ten umeboshi in one go…”
There’s nothing but chatter as Hawks lands gently atop the Asahi headquarters, wings kicking up gravel as he touches down. There are no twinges left from the injuries he sustained, but he’s still more careful than usual, the mere memory of his knees buckling enough to give him pause.
He walks the perimeter a couple of times, listening idly to his feathers as he does. The feather off at four o’clock catches his attention for just a moment before he realizes the discussion of crime between two young men is, in fact, in reference to a video game storyline. He lets them continue.
As he walks, he feels a buzzing in his pocket from his personal phone. Since he doesn’t have too many contacts that reach out to him - none, really, and ain’t that painful to admit - he tugs it free and takes a look at the email he’s just received.
Hey anon person - got the first testers done. Carbon fiber laced through Sorbothane. Has nanotech enhancements that absorb the force and push it out as energy. Depending on how hard you land, you might need sturdier pants. These have blown my jeans to pieces twice (will be adding that to your tab). Was able to jump off a multi-story roof without dying, though.
Hawks’ eyebrows raise at that. What the - this guy tested his own works? Was he insane? Or just that confident? He continues to read, feeling incredulous.
The nanotech doesn’t need charging if you’re wearing the braces - oh yeah, these are knee braces by the way; still working on something for your twiggy-ass ankles - because it uses the impact force as energy. If you run, jump, skip, whatever, that’ll be enough to charge them.
The braces are flexible - more like a wrap - so they should meet your acrobatics requirement. They don’t breathe well, so if you sweat a lot, you’re gonna sweat worse with these on. To get maximum use out of them, flex your knees when you land.
Also included inserts for your shoes made of the same stuff. You’d do better if you had your whole shoe made of this, FYI.
Any other questions, shoot them over to me. Otherwise, I can drop them off at the lockers where I have my mailbox and give you the code.
Which reminds me - I got your payment. Freaked my assistant the fuck out opening an envelope with a massive wad of cash inside. I really am not gonna rat you out if you wanna pay with a card or electronically, but I won’t say no to making it rain in my office either, so you do you.
Dabi
Hawks rereads the email twice, alternating between impressed, annoyed, and amused. The comment about his skinny ankles hadn’t been necessary, but the rest of it…
I sure found a character, he thinks, imagining Dabi, whatever he might look like, throwing bills all over his office, making it ‘rain’.
Skimming the email again, Hawks finds himself approving of the concept behind the braces more and more. Each component makes perfect sense, though he’d never have thought to combine them. Carbon fiber for strength - this guy had taken his warning seriously about the forces that would be applied to the material. Sorbothane - which was one of the most shock-absorbent materials on Earth. And nanotechnology - to redistribute the energy collected in the Sorbothane.
Clever, he can’t help but think. And he came up with this in under a week?
He does look down at his pants at the mention of the exploding jeans. The cargo material is rated to slow or stop knives and bullets, and is also interwoven with carbon fiber. It shouldn’t have a problem resisting the force expelled when he lands.
That decided, he emails back:
Send me the code for the locker and let me know when you drop it off. Sorry about your jeans - let me know how much they were and I’ll reimburse you.
He pauses, hesitant to add any more. But his curiosity is killing him.
Did you really jump off a building?
Before he can second guess himself, he hits send.
Not a second later, his nine o’clock feather gives him feedback that has his wings perking up.
“...hand over the purse and no one gets hurt, granny. C’mon…”
“Back to work,” he mutters aloud, shoving his phone into his pocket, his wings already pumping. A split second later, he launches from the roof, hundreds of feet in the air, toward the direction of the disturbance. As he falls, he allows himself a wry smile.
Bet I’ve still jumped from higher buildings than him.
—-
Touya snorts when he gets the person’s reply back. He’d hung out for a couple of minutes before getting back to work in his lab since the client had a habit of quick replies. Reading through it again, he shoots over the locker number and a time. Jin could drop the equipment off for him and he tells the cloner as much via a quick text.
The last bit of the email makes his nose wrinkle with amusement. What - did this guy think he didn’t test shit out before sending it on to the clients? C’mon.
Of course, Touya had thrown crash dummies off the building first before attempting with a living person. In fact, after the dummies, he’d progressed to Jin’s clones. Because even if the braces stopped terminal velocity, Touya had no desire to break his legs working on a project like this.
The first clone had disappeared in a pile of goop. So had the second and the third, even after tweaking. The fourth had landed without popping, though, and by the time Touya tried the braces himself, every one of Jin’s clones was sticking their landings with either flourishes or ridiculous poses that had the two of them laughing from atop the roof.
Touya liked trying out his own inventions. His calculations and intuition could only take him so far, and at some point, he had to put himself in the line of fire to see if the damned things actually worked. Sometimes that meant testing armor against bullets. Sometimes that meant hanging out under water for hours. Sometimes that meant jumping off a building.
When he jumped off the ledge, he put himself in the mystery client’s shoes almost literally, and he let gravity take him down.
At an angle, with the ability to roll forward to disburse the impact, the landing didn’t hurt at all. Dropping from the edge of the roof like a rock, however, still sent zings of pain ricocheting up Touya’s hips and spine. A couple of ibuprofen took the edge off, but with boots and ankle braces made of the same material, that should negate…
He blinks, realizing he’s edging back into creator mode. Shaking his head, he replies back to the last bit of the email asking if he really jumped off a building.
Yes. And they only gave me a dumb t-shirt.
He hits send.
—-
Hawks reads the reply email while watching the police take away the mugger he’d captured, and has to repress a laugh. Without thinking, he types back a reply.
Damn, you get a t-shirt?
A minute or so later, he gets a response.
Corporate demands I stay clothed, unfortunately.
Hawks snorts loudly and has to disguise it as a cough when the officers look his way. He waves awkwardly at them and turns away, tucking his phone into his pocket as he does. Theoretically, he shouldn’t have it out on the job anyway, but he’d been anxious to hear back about the support equipment. And with the time that Dabi sent him for drop off…
He glances at his watch and his wings flap lightly with excitement.
Should be dropped off by now, he thinks, biting his lip as he looks around for the policeman in charge. Spotting him by the squad car, he hastens over to close out his part in the case, giving his statement and then a jaunty wave when the officer lets him go without much fuss.
Even with Dabi’s assurances, Hawks doesn’t take chances with the dropbox. He sends a feather to cover the security camera that watches over the boxes, then sends another to open the box itself. The numbers for the code are awful because they’re so tiny, but he perseveres, and eventually, he has a package floating up to him from where he squats atop a nearby roof.
It’s lighter than he expects, and he almost feels doubtful that he grabbed the right one until he sees the note taped to the top.
Yes, there’s actually shit in here - I tried to keep it lightweight. Also got my number below if you’d rather text. Emailing is for geezers and I usually have my phone on me. Let me know how the braces fit. Remember - these are TESTERS. They’re not ready for a full 100kph. Maybe 50 tops. Do NOT splatter yourself while I finish your order.
- Dabi
Hawks grins at the note and the phone number scrawled across the bottom of it. He’ll have to snag one of his burner phones from home, but Dabi was right - texting would be much easier.
Got his number without even trying, he can’t help but think smugly.
Tucking the note into the inner pocket of his jacket, he turns his attention to the package, folding his legs under him so he can sit down on the roof. Should he wait until he gets home to open it? Probably. But part of being the fastest hero is because he’s impatient, and he wants to try out his new support equipment now.
Ripping the package open with his teeth, he digs around inside and tugs out two almost rubbery feeling bandage things. There’s a sheet included with a diagram of how to put them on, wrapping below the knee, then crisscrossing either side of his kneecap before securing over the top of his knee. Hawks skims the instructions twice, then reaches down to pull his cargo pants up until they’re scrunched snugly around his thighs. His flight suit still clings to his legs, but he doesn’t think the braces have to be touching his skin.
He chews his lip before deciding fuck it and wrapping the braces around his knees as instructed, adjusting and pulling until they’re both tight, but not tight enough to cut off the blood supply. Then he stands, heart racing as he walks around the perimeter of the roof, barely even feeling the bands around his knees. A glance down tells him he can’t see them through the bulk of his cargo pants either.
“Let’s take you for a spin,” he mutters at his legs, bending his knees and jumping as high as he can, flapping down to give himself an extra few meters. The roof drops away, hovers at a distance below, then Hawks lets himself fall.
It’s probably three meters at most - right at the edge of where he could land comfortably - and Hawks usually never just straight-legs a landing. Honestly, he’s expecting the impact to be rough.
Instead, he lands with a solid thump of boots-on-roof, his knees bending but not buckling, and he doesn’t feel a damn thing.
“What the hell?” he says in something like awe, looking down at his legs. His pants are a bit ballooned out around the knees, presumably from the dispersed force of his landing, but other than that… no one would be able to tell his landing had been assisted by support equipment.
“What the hell,” he repeats, walking around a bit more and feeling absolutely nothing. If anything, even walking feels a bit better. More solid. Hawks has a crazy moment where he wants to call Dabi to ask him what magic he worked, but he dismisses it.
Still, he can’t help the giddy laugh when he launches himself into an even higher jump, wings pumping a handful of times to get him up six meters this time before he lets himself drop. Again, the impact is negligible, though this time his feet sting. Blinking, he remembers Dabi mentioning including shoe inserts, and he practically launches himself at the open package, yanking out the inserts and slipping them inside his boots.
The next landing is like he’s hopped off a garden wall. Maybe skipped over a puddle. It’s so effortless, it feels unreal.
“Holy shit,” he laughs, hopping around like an idiot atop the roof, letting himself land without trying to roll or mitigate the impact at all. Each time, the braces absorb the force and expel it, keeping him from feeling a thing.
Deciding to test his limits, Hawks leaps higher into the sky, properly flying up until the roof is a square beneath him. His guts churn as he gauges the distance. This would have been about the height he fell from with those people on his back. At the time, he’d been resisting the fall, using his wings as a parachute, but with six extra adults on him, it’d still been pretty fast. Probably the normal 9.81 meters per second that one person would fall, if he’s calculating correctly.
I did fall at an angle, he thinks, eyeballing the roof below. About thirty degrees. Let’s see if I can recreate that impact.
Taking a deep breath, Hawks flaps toward the roof, giving himself the same trajectory and speed before he pulls his wings in and lets gravity do its work.
He lands feet first, knees bending to take the brunt of the force before he tumbles over onto his shoulder and rolls within the confines of his curled-in wings. The force knocks the breath out of him and the rolling has his vision spinning, but his legs, holy shit.
Hawks rolls to a stop and flops onto his back, staring up at the sky above with wide eyes and an ecstatic grin plastered across his face. Then he brings his knees up to his chest and kicks at the sky with childish excitement and absolutely zero pain.
It’s only then, with his legs kicked out over his head, that he realizes:
His pants have been completely obliterated from the ass down.
—--
Later that evening, Touya gets a text from an unknown, untraceable number.
Unknown
The braces work like a charm, oh my god
Landed from twenty meters up without a problem
Thank you
Touya can’t help but smile at the genuine thanks, a warm feeling of satisfaction permeating his chest. He might not be out there pulling people out of burning buildings, but this? This still makes an impact, no matter what Endeavor says.
Pushing thoughts of his father away, Touya types back:
Me
How’d the pants hold up?
A second later, his text has a laughing reaction to it and then another reply.
Unknown
Blown to bits, and they’re rated to take bullets
Big eye opener on how much force i’ve been landing with
Rated to take bullets? Excuse the fuck??
Touya blinks down at his phone, thinking, shit, I really did help supply a villain.
Then his eyes widen with realization.
Or a hero.
It shouldn’t be that surprising, really. Heroes often ordered from him, wanting to avoid all the press and annoyance of ‘needing’ support equipment. Most of the time, though, they were very free with their threats to ‘not reveal their names or he’d be hearing from their lawyers’ or something to that effect. Touya actually prided himself on being able to spot a hero order from a mile away.
This customer though? Definitely not cut from the same cloth.
Trying to regain focus, he eyeballs the bit about how much force this client has been landing with and glances over at the work table where he’d been struggling over the ankle/boot problem. Biting his lip in thought, he texts back.
Me
The knee braces will get you up to 50kph of force, no problem
Any more than that and you’ll definitely feel it
Working on ankle braces
Problem is, it doesn’t give much extra support unless the whole foot is braced
At that point, would be easier to just replace your shoes
But you said you didn’t want the support to interfere with your clothes
I could model the support shoes after the ones you’re wearing, tho? No one would be able to tell the difference
He waits for a minute, hoping that he’ll be given the OK to work on a full boot instead of struggling to make the ankle braces viable. The best he’s gotten out of them so far, when paired with the knee braces, is around 60kph. Still better than the knee braces alone but not up to the 75-100kph the client wanted.
Text bubbles appear and disappear several times over the next sixty seconds, and Touya’s knee begins to bob with antsiness. Finally, he gets a response.
Unknown
We can table the shoes possibility for now
Honestly, even this much is more than I expected
Touya glares at the reply, feeling unaccountably slighted. Either the client doesn’t trust his ability to replicate clothing, or he doesn’t trust Touya’s discretion if he recognizes the shoe. Which, sorta fair. Even with Touya’s avoidance of most heroes, he could recognize All Might’s boot or Miruko’s four-toed contraption.
Whatever, it’s not his issue. He’ll just keep at it until he knocks this client’s fucking socks off.
Wait, with the force expelled from the ankle braces… his socks really will get knocked off.
Snorting at his own stupid pun, Touya texts back.
Me
Give me another week. You’ll have your 100kph braces.
He smirks at his phone, feeling a fire that has nothing to do with his quirk burning inside his heart.
And that’s a promise.
—---
Hawks hadn’t meant to insult Dabi’s capabilities - he’d actually been trying to pay the guy a compliment! - but that doesn’t mean he’s not enjoying Dabi’s mild insanity.
Between the random texts asking him about his current support gear (classified), any past injuries (a very long list that Hawks limits to only the relevant ones, which still sends Dabi into a fit), and whether or not Hawks has any allergies to nuts (???), he has a grand time chatting with Dabi over the next week.
Me
I have to know: how does a nut allergy factor into this?
Dabi
Because I just ate an entire popcorn bowl full of almonds while I was working on your shit and rubbed my nutty hands all over everything
Me
So you admit you’re nutty
Also holy shit that’s a lot of almonds
Dabi
Absolutely batshit
And apparently the body needs food
Who knew
Me
I don’t think a bowl of nuts constitutes a balanced meal
Dabi
I don’t think someone jumping off buildings can say shit like that to me
Me
Okay, fair
Dabi
Damn straight
Me
Not even close to straight
Dabi
You too? Nice
That conversation had been enlightening and terrifying in multiple ways. Outing himself hadn’t been the plan, but fuck… knowing that he was anonymous, knowing that Dabi likely wouldn’t talk if he ever did find out who his mysterious client was…
It’d given Hawks a thrill like he’d never known.
Of course, he’d panicked about the reveal about six seconds later and had stuffed his phone into his pocket for the rest of the day as if it might bite him. Still, the interaction got him thinking.
Just another thing I shouldn’t have to hide.
He tries not to dwell on it as he goes about his business throughout the next couple of days, but Dabi’s so free with his texts at literally any time of the day or night, Hawks can’t help but want to respond with the same kind of forthrightness. Even if it feels a little rebellious.
Like when Dabi tells him about near-murder attempts, for example.
Dabi
Five-story building? No problem.
Five-story building when your assistant bumps you off the ledge and you’re not ready?
Awful.
Absolutely awful.
Why would you do these kinds of jumps willingly?
No, don’t answer that.
Hawks likely wouldn’t have answered anyway, as the text had come at half past four in the morning, but it is funny to wake up to, in a morbid, ‘should I maybe report that to the police?’ kind of way. He replies back before his uncaffeinated brain can think better of it.
Me
I once had someone knock me out of an airplane without a parachute
He’d almost typed ‘my wings’ instead but caught himself at the last second. Yawning, he crawls out of bed, taking his phone with him. As he lets his coffee percolate, he receives a reply.
Dabi
You need better friends, what the fuck.
Me
And you need a better sleep schedule
4am? really? Even I’m not up at that hour unless it’s an emergency
He pours some creamer into his coffee as Dabi responds.
Dabi
Sleep is for the weak, coffee sustains me
Hawks would be an absolute hypocrite if he objected to that, especially given his current coffee-drinking status, but still.
Me
What brand? If you say Boss Coffee, I’m afraid I can’t work with you anymore
Dabi
Fuck that shit
I’m a Wonda guy all the way
Me
Okay, acceptable
Dabi
You?
Me
Max Extra Bold & Sweet
Dabi
You’re a degenerate, I’m firing you
Hawks snickers loudly, taking an obnoxious sip as he does.
Me
What can I say? I like it sweet
They chat about coffee brands and poke fun at each other’s tastes for a bit, before moving on to breakfast foods, wherein Hawks finds out Dabi can’t stand the traditional fish breakfasts so common in Japan, and Hawks reveals a bit too much by saying he often doesn’t have time for full meals regardless of the time of day.
Dabi
You need a better job
Food is one of life’s few joys, along with sleep and arson
Me
ARSON??
And that sparks a whole new round of conversation that lasts until Hawks realizes he’s going to be late to work for the first time in five years.
Me
Shit i g2g! talk later!
He shoves his phone in his pocket, but not before seeing Dabi’s indignant response.
Dabi
It’s barely 6 am! Get a new job!
—--
Touya can’t believe how weird his customer is. Flying into work at 5:46 in the morning? What kind of asshole is up and working that early in the morning?
He scoots a blowtorch out of the way so he can finish unrolling the new blueprints for the ankle braces on his work table. Finally, after what feels like years, he has an idea of how they can absorb enough impact to give the customer what he wants. It’s just gonna take an extra step he hadn’t anticipated.
Structurally, they’ll function almost like ballet shoes, covering the majority of the foot and then wrapping up the ankle. The shape stabilizes the foot while also cushioning it from the hard landing. It’s not that different from his initial design, truthfully - it just includes the foot as well.
The composition, however - now that’s where his genius had kicked in. Mostly because of Jin, actually.
When his loving assistant accidentally knocked him off the roof, Touya panicked. He wasn’t oriented to take the landing feet first, and aside from that, he hadn’t mentally prepared for a fall off a roof. Instinct took over, and blue flames erupted from his feet, jettisoning him back into the air.
Once he’d landed (pancaked) back on the roof, Jin had run up to him, babbling his apologies, clutching the sides of his beanie like he was gonna rip it in half. Touya took one look at him and grinned.
“I’ve figured out the ankle problem.”
The solution: A feedback channel for the absorbed energy, made up of an extra layer of Sorbothane. The energy of the impact would come through the soles, hit the absorption material, then be fed by the nanotech back into the bottom layer. The effect would be like a rebound of energy, so that, like Touya’s own jet-boost technique, the client would be pushed up even as they landed.
Normally, this might cause issues with sudden reverse forces, but with the ankle and knee braces absorbing the residual shock…
Touya tests it. Over and over again, he tests it, trying to make sure he hasn’t fucked up his calculations somehow.
“You’re really putting these through their paces,” Jin comments when he finds Touya still hard at work hours later. “Haha, paces! Get it? Because feet!!”
“Hilarious,” Touya mutters, walking around in the test braces he made for himself. “As an aside, holy shit these are comfortable. My feet haven’t felt this good walking on concrete in ages.”
“That’s because you’re getting old,” Jin says sagely. “I’m the old man, let me try them!”
Touya looks up in time to see Jin’s tackle coming, but even with his older-sibling reflexes, he’s not fast enough to escape being taken to the floor. After much scuffling and at least one bite, Jin wrests the braces from his feet.
“PHEW, your feet stink!” the cloner gags, swiping a hand in front of his nose as Touya squirms underneath him. “Smell like roses!”
“Be careful with those,” Touya snarls, trying and failing to bite Jin’s calf.
“Ohhh, feisty! Usually, you beg me to try out your inventions too, for variety.” Jin eyes him, far too knowingly. “Are these special? Fuck ‘em, I could buy these anywhere!”
Touya flushes but refuses to say why he’s so frazzled by Jin’s words. So what if he really wants to impress this one client? So what if he kinda doesn’t wanna share this project for once? It’s his business and he can run it however he wants!
“Oh, these are special,” Jin notes ecstatically as he slips the braces on his own feet and bounces them on the floor in delight. “You haven’t made anything this expensive in years! Bullshit, they’re cheap as dirt. I sure hope you got your money’s worth outta this person! If you didn’t charge eight-hundred thousand bare minimum, you’re stupid.”
Touya bites his lip, knowing that Jin - whichever side of him is talking right now - isn’t far off the mark. But somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten about price, getting pulled in by the challenge, the mystery, and the fucking 2 AM conversations that were way more fun than they should be. Instead of saying so, he bucks Jin off of him and pins the cloner ruthlessly to the cold workshop floor.
“Say uncle!” he demands, twisting Jin’s arm up behind his back. Jin kicks feebly, laughing like a loon.
“Uncle! Your mom!” he snickers. Touya scowls but gets off Jin’s back regardless. Then he holds out his hand expectantly.
Jin rolls over and offers his feet to Touya, a knowing grin on his face.
“Tell your client I want an invite to your wedding. If I’m not the best man, I’ll riot!”
Touya yanks the braces off and glares down at his assistant.
“If anything, you’d be the flower girl,” he says with dignity.
Then he stalks away, the sound of Jin’s cackles ringing in his ears.
—--
At his office later that morning, having just returned from the HPSC’s support department, Hawks shoots Dabi another text.
Me
I got new pants, by the way
Added vents with titanium rims so the energy could escape without ripping
Got some weird looks, but the vents seem to work fine
He sips his coffee, figuring he’ll get a response quickly. Sure enough, within a minute, he sees text bubbles appear.
Dabi
Nice - titanium was a good choice
Hawks feels inexplicably warmed by Dabi’s approval. He finds himself texting back.
Me
Thanks
Being pantless doesn’t suit me
Dabi
I dunno, if your quad-to-waist ratio is anything to go by, you got nice legs
Uh… no weirdness
Just, objectively
Hawks flushes, his wings fluttering happily at his back. How to respond, though? Does he take the semi-flirting and run with it? Does he ignore it and move along?
I’ve liked getting to be honest, he thinks, biting his lip. And I like Dabi’s sense of humor. What’s the harm in flirting back a little? No one’s gonna know.
Me
I’ll consider shorts just for you then
The reply comes with zero hesitation.
Dabi
Make it jorts, and you’ll have yourself a fan
Hawks almost spits out his coffee. Then the cursed image flashes across his mind of Best Jeanist, legs almost as long as his neck, bared by mini-jorts.
Trying to regain himself, he texts back the first thought that comes to mind that isn’t Best Jeanist related.
Me
I don’t have the ass for jorts
Dabi
Objection, I have your measurements
Bubble butt if I ever saw one
Respectfully
The ‘respectfully’ makes Hawks laugh, and he ducks his chin into his collar, willing the pink to recede on his cheeks, all thoughts of Jeanist thankfully banished by his pleasure.
Finally, he replies back.
Me
Seems a BIT unfair that you have some idea of what I look like and I get nothing for you
You’re like a ghost online
Maybe that reply was a bit too bold because text bubbles appear and disappear several times over the next minute. Hawks holds his breath, hoping he hasn’t accidentally crossed a line but unwilling to take the text back unless he knows for sure he has.
Dabi
‘Ghost’ is more accurate than you think
I like my anonymity as much as you do
Hawks’ heart sinks, and he’s just typing back an apology when another text comes through.
Dabi
I *can* give you a measurement though
For you to picture, or whatever
Length: 8”
Sputtering, Hawks actually drops his phone. It clatters to the floor, and he scrabbles to scoop it back up, face flaming with embarrassment. Another text is waiting for him.
Dabi
That’s the length from the base of my palm to the tip of my middle finger
Was always told I had long fingers
Hawks groans in the back of his throat, trying and failing not to smile. Dabi is a little shit and he knows it.
Me
I hate you so much right now
Dabi
Can’t help it your mind’s in the gutter
That’s all you get tho
Any other measurements, you’re just going to have to use your imagination
Me
SO MUCH!! SO MUCH HATE RN!!
Flushed crimson, Hawks buries his face into his arms and yells.
—--
Touya also puts his phone away, feeling a little heated himself.
This is not how he normally operates. Generally speaking, he’s very hands-off with all of his clients, keeping his communication straightforward and strictly business. He doesn’t tease, and he definitely doesn’t flirt. But there’s something about this one that just… tugs at him.
It’s almost like he’s lonely, he thinks absently, dumping some scraps of Sorbothane into the trash.
Touya’s pretty sure his customer is a guy, now. It’s the vibes, mostly. And the measurements, too.
He smirks, thinking of his brilliant recovery after having accidentally complimented a customer’s ass. At the very least, he now knows that his mystery client has a sense of humor.
Eyeing his phone, he re-opens their chat and finally gives his customer a name. He only has to wait a minute or so for a reply.
Lollipop
Why am I ‘lollipop’ in the chat now??
Me
Bubble butt + stick ankles = lollipop
Lollipop
D:
Rude!!
I can’t help it my ankles are small!!
Me
I know
It’s a burden you have to bear
Or not bear, in this case
The testers of your ankle braces are done - my assistant will be dropping them off in the box in the next ten minutes or so
Lollipop
Really?
Wow, it hasn’t even been a whole week
Looking forward to testing them out!
Touya swallows, feeling just a tad regretful at his own speed this time. He’s enjoyed their conversations, and he’s not exactly excited to let them go. Still, his pride in his creations is no mean thing, and it rears its head, reminding him that he pulled off something amazing this time.
Me
Me too
Feeling at odd ends with himself, Touya settles in on the couch and flips on the TV while he waits for his client to reply back.
—--
Hawks is too excited to be paranoid with the package pickup this time. He flies directly to the box and enters the code Dabi sent, popping the door open to find another package and another note taped on top.
These should work with the shoe measurements you gave me, you’ll just have to wear thinner socks.
Basically, these are gonna take the force you get from landing and shove it back out the way it came, giving you almost a force ‘cushion’ upon landing. The nanotech is going to process it all very fast, so you won’t feel the initial force at all.
Should take up to 115kph - tested it myself - and shouldn’t interfere with normal things like walking or running at all.
Let me know what you think.
- Dabi
It’s not as pithy as his first letter had been, but Hawks finds himself looking at the familiar handwriting fondly. It’s not the first time he’s had the thought, but it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to really feel the emotion behind it.
I wish I could meet you in person.
Trying to shake off the longing he can’t fulfill, he takes off for the roof he’d practiced on before, clutching the package like precious cargo, and opening it carefully when he lands.
There’s another set of instructions on how to put the braces on, and he follows them intently, strapping on the foot/ankle braces below the knee ones he’s already wearing. Instantly, he can tell they’re going to be a perfect fit inside his boots, and he flexes his feet happily, delighted by how light and stretchy the material is. How Dabi had managed to pull off something so incredible in just a few weeks is beyond him.
Tugging his boots on over the braces, Hawks stands. Then he hops. Then he leaps. And with each landing, he feels no pain, no jarring. The energy is dispersed or else pushed back down to the point that he feels like he’s bouncing and it’s awesome.
Grinning so wide that his cheeks ache, Hawks jumps into the sky, letting his wings take him up high. High enough that the roof below looks like a postage stamp. He bites his lip, heart pounding at the distance.
It’s okay, he tells himself. I trust Dabi. He hasn’t let me down.
That thought in mind, Hawks folds his wings and lets himself drop.
Only to snap them open again when an explosion echoes across the city below.
“What the hell?!” Hawks hisses, golden eyes darting around, searching for the source of the disturbance. A split second later, he sees a column of smoke beginning to rise in the distance.
Without even thinking about it, he shoots off toward it.
—--
“Breaking news, an explosion has gone off at the Fukuoka central police station! Authorities and heroes are already rushing to the scene, including - is that Hawks?! Yes, that’s him! Hawks is on the scene, getting civilians and the injured away from the fires that have spread from the blast zone!”
Touya watches the events unfold, suddenly paying full attention to the screen in front of him.
People streak away from the wreckage, presumably carried by Hawks’ feathers as the hero himself darts inside the building. Touya watches, along with everyone else, as more victims fly out of the flames, feathers zooming them over to paramedics or police officers. Touya frowns at the difference before he realizes that some of the people being removed from the building are, in fact, prisoners. He even recognizes one of them - the same guy who’d taken Hawks out with some kind of quirk barely three weeks ago. The prisoner cackles like mad, yelling that he’s “not finished yet, Fukuoka!”
Which is when Hawks reappears at the entrance of the blast zone, soot streaking his face as he clutches something large and metallic in his arms, shouting:
“CLEAR THE AREA, THIS IS ANOTHER BOMB!”
The police scramble and people begin to flee in all directions while Hawks lets two feathers rocket the bomb up into the sky, away from everyone else. It shoots upward, and Hawks keeps one eye on it as he turns to the police, helping them evacuate the area as quickly as possible.
“Not so fast!” the prisoner cries, breaking away from the policeman holding his arm. Hawks whips around, his eyes narrowing, but before he can do anything, a ripple seems to emit from the prisoner, taking everyone around him to the ground. Even Hawks staggers, his wings going slack at his back. The camera operator seems to realize what this means before everyone else, because the view tilts to look up, into the sky.
High above, the bomb has stopped ascending. And as the camera watches, it begins to fall back to the earth, the two feathers that had been carrying it drifting away on the wind.
Hawks wastes no time. He sweeps his wings down hard, launching himself into the sky. His flight seems more labored than before, but he’s still fast as fuck, covering a distance of fifty meters in under two seconds. He catches the bomb before it hits the ground, and then he’s ascending, up, up, higher, until he’s barely a blot in the sky.
“Holy shit,” Touya whispers as the speck that is Hawks appears to throw the bomb with all his might, just as the thing finally goes off.
—--
Hawks feels the concussion from the blast hit him like a hammer, sending him head over tail-feathers toward the earth. The speed of his descent is sickening, and he can barely breathe with how hard the wind is whipping and spinning him. Trying to get his wings out is like launching a kite in a hurricane, and they snap and flutter until they finally catch, yanking on his back like a built-in parachute.
The pain of it has Hawks clenching his teeth, but he pushes the likely-torn muscles aside, trying desperately to see where he’s going. Where the ground is.
Oh shit, he thinks, finally seeing it, barely five meters below, rushing up fast.
It’s all he can do to get his feet under him and brace for impact.
—--
The hero hits the ground hard before rolling across the asphalt to a painful stop. Touya has his doubts that the hero will be able to get up - after all, he saw the footage of his landing a few weeks ago, and the hero had to be stretchered away from that.
So he’s surprised to see Hawks rising shakily to his hands and knees, his wings flaring wide at his back. He holds there for a second, then, without seeming to feel much pain at all, he stands up, blinking at the crowd of people and reporters who’d followed his fall from the sky.
“Hawks!” one of the reporters cries, clearly remembering his prior fall as well. “Hawks, are you okay? Are your legs hurt?!”
The hero looks around for the source of the question, and his eyes meet the camera with an extreme sort of intensity. Touya almost feels like the hero is pinning him through the lens as the hero strides toward the reporter, evidently unhurt.
“I’m fine,” he says clearly, staring into the camera with an expression of sheer determination. “And I have Dabi, my support equipment specialist, to thank for it.” He grins. “On that note, Dabi, if you’re watching - will you go out with me?”
Touya drops the remote in shock.
—---
Dabi
Okay, but bubble butt confirmed
Lollihawks
Oh my god.
Dabi
Am I wrong?
Lollihawks
Depends, are you gonna accept my date offer?
Dabi
Are you gonna wear jorts?
Because if not…
Lollihawks
I’ll wear jorts if you let me take you for sushi
Otherwise, I was thinking karaage
Dabi
That’s a low blow
Lollihawks
What can I say? I’m a charmer
So - dinner? My treat, after saving my life
Dabi
I was gonna say *my* treat since you just got me enough business to retire early
But okay, you’re on
Just one question
Lollihawks
Yeah?
Dabi
I thought you were worried about being anonymous?
What changed?
Lollihawks
You saved my life
And you deserve the credit
Dabi
Can I screenshot that and send it to my dad?
Wanna rub it in his face a bit
Lollihawks
Sure
Who’s your dad?
Sounds like a dick
Dabi
Hah, nailed it
You ready for this?
Lollihawks
The anticipation is killing me
Dabi
Endeavor
Lollihawks
…
Oh shit