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Red. Red like the burning embers of daylight fading. Red, like the maroon blood still dripping from wounds that refused to heal over, but stayed hidden. Red, like the beautiful crimson of his plumage, reduced to ash. Stolen.
Plumage that you had.
The wind was beginning to whip up a frenzy when you entered town, wings tucked carefully against your back to avoid accidentally knocking anything over. The few townsfolk that were also up at this hour waved at you— a greeting you returned in full.
As soon as they looked away though, you let yourself feel the dreariness that came with the mornings. Foggy-headed, you pushed open the door to your favourite cafe— happy to see Gran sitting there in the corner, all but radiating the sort of energy that only ever hit you after a cold glass of water.
You may have been an early bird, but
fucking christ
if the mornings didn’t always agree with you.
“Hello, dear!” She chirped, leaning forward in her seat. You offered a small wave to the workers, who returned in kind, before sliding into the plush seating the cafe offered. The cozy atmosphere— all plants hanging from the rafters and warm, eye-catching colours and fairy lights— really made you feel nothing more than like you wanted to sleep.
“Heya, Gran,” You returned the greeting, taking the beverage she offered to you with a smile. You folded your wings, allowing them to droop down to rest against your knees, as you leaned back in the chair. The ceramic was warm beneath your fingertips— a pleasant surprise when you compared it to the coldness of the autumn winds, “got any news for me?”
… You… would admit that living out here, among the packed dirt roads, far away from civilization already meant that you struggled to keep up to date. Which is where Gran, the town’s grandmother and primary news source, came in.
A grin lit up her wrinkled face as she slid over a piece of paper for you to look at.
Japan’s population celebrates as their heroes win the war!
A horrifying situation: Will Japan truly recover?
Devastating Damage! Will Mirko ever return to the fields?
Hawks, once perched high in the rankings, now reduced to a fledgling without his wings!
The last headline made you wince, the muscles in your wings twitching before you pulled them closer to yourself. Gran chortled softly.
“Figured you’d have quite the reaction to the last line.” Her voice carries a morbid kind of amusement, rubbing the intricate flower tattoos lining the sides of her throat, “a true shame! He was quite the inspiration to young heroes, you know. One in a million!”
“If I didn’t know about how reporters acted,” You hummed, tilting your head as you traced a finger over the last line of parchment, “I’d consider this absolute slander— alas, such is their job, huh?”
“Can’t possibly let things get
boring!
” Gran agrees, taking a long, satisfied sip from her tea cup, “then I’d be out of things to gossip about! A true horror.”
“I fear the prospect.” You return, entirely deadpan.
She only lets out a happy little hum.
“... You’ve still got more information you’re not talking about.”
Ah, and
that
gets you one of the many playful, sharp grins you knew Gran was all too often showing off. She leans forward conspiratorially, practically
radiating
a certain kind of mischief.
You hesitate a second before rolling your eyes and following suit, doing your best to ignore the chattering of the cafe workers so that you were
sure
you would hear this correctly.
“Apparently, many Japan citizens are intending to leave the country, due to the devastation? And Hawks
hasn’t been seen around
lately?” She practically giggles giddily, leaning back.
Now, if you were any other townsfolk, you would have doubted the last statement. But Gran’s quirk (not-so-creatively named “Insight”) allowed her to make very precise guesses which almost
always
ended up true. Your feathers ruffled as you leaned back in your chair, brows furrowing.
“So you’re telling me he’s left Japan?” You paid no mind to the fact you didn’t even know what Hawks
looked like,
aside from the tales of his crimson wings— which he had now lost? “But why
tell me
that?”
Gran just giggled again, taking another sip of tea. She shook her head, a sneaky little smile on her face, “don’t you worry about it, dear.”
…
Well at least, you hoped, it wouldn’t have anything to do with you, right?
“Now!” You nearly jolted at the return of her voice. Internally, you grimaced— jeez, you must be on edge, “tell me, made any interesting discoveries while you’ve been exploring? Anything about the ruins?”
Ah— now your eyes lit up, brain fog clearing as you sifted through the mental images of what you had recently discovered, “oh! Yeah, actually— found a set of ruins the other day. Pretty covered in vines and all, but they look like they’d be the optimal picnic spot— I’ve gone through documenting the architecture and—”
Off you went on a ramble as the sun travelled further above the horizon, bathing the world in a warm light.
… You wouldn’t deny that, at times, you were pretty easy to distract.
Keigo felt…
lost.
Not that the singular word could even begin to describe what he was hiding from those around him— but hey! Who really cared, anyway?
Certainly not the public, who immediately took his loss of wings as an opportunity to rag on him. How ironic— climbing so high in the charts, only to fall so far after the war cost him his wings
forever.
Society was… choking. The pressure weighed down upon his shoulders as if the sky itself was falling. Keigo had had the selfishness torn out of his heart a long time ago— always,
always
giving. Giving until there was barely anything left of him.
And now?
There
wasn’t.
He wasn’t sure what he was thinking when he boarded that plane and emptied his bank account. Wasn’t sure what he was thinking when he sold everything he had aside from his clothing and a few tiny trinkets and vanished under the guise of being so
busy
with all of the work. And he really,
really
wasn’t sure what he was thinking when he’d taken a cab to drive him out to one of the most remote towns in all of earth.
Falcon’s Haven.
Haven, for short. Cliche, and maybe a little ironic.
He… wasn’t even sure what he was thinking when he snapped the sim card on his phone and bought another. He wasn’t sure what he was
doing
when he bought a cottage with the savings he’d kept over the years of being one of the top heroes.
He was… numb, kind of. Stuck in an in between where he couldn’t quite figure out why he’d just up and left like that, and aching for what he had lost.
He was mournful. Of his wings, his quirk, the life he’d left behind, and the connections he’d abandoned. He was angry, too, and a little bitter.
But all of that came together in a big fucking cyclone and, to future Keigo’s horror he was sure, he was sitting in the eye of it.
… he wasn’t sure how much longer the peace would last, but he’d find it eventually, huh?
Classic Keigo, going wherever the wind took him, just letting things skate on by.
Letting them linger.
Fester.
Until he had no other choice than to stare down at the results of his actions.
His golden gaze surveyed the town that he could just make out from his cottage, peering over the trees that swayed in the mischievous wind. He slumped onto his counter, closing his eyes.
The consequences of these actions would be future Keigo’s problem.
Current Keigo needed some fucking
coffee.