Chapter Text
No one wants to find themselves sitting in a hero agency’s lobby. How many people have found themselves sitting in the very chair Akira finds herself seated in, their tears dripping off snot-covered noses and soaking into the upholstery? How many people angrily threw chairs when they received the worst news of their lives or collapsed on the tiles in insurmountable and inconsolable grief? Circumstances leading up to being in these seats awaiting representation from an agency are always painful, traumatizing, and devastating beyond belief. However, that’s not why she’s here. On the contrary, butterflies of anticipation have knocked loose the cobwebs in her chest as she waits for her HR rep to invite her back to get her badge on her first day.
Akira needs consistent, stable work in the worst way. Sure, she absolutely loves living in Fukuoka. Performing at the dance hall fuels her passion for movement, expression, and dance, to channel a deeper energy and commune with an audience, with her patrons. But even she understood that this time of year isn’t consistent, and life here is expensive, considering she used to live in a small town with her parents a couple hours’ train ride outside the city. Let alone, her parents don’t know the type of dancing she is doing, and she doesn’t want them to know. To them, she is a contemporary performing artist, but to the world? She lays herself bare, pulling on the strings of desire, feeding a deep hunger of needing to please while making her audience practically drool over her. Even then, she barely makes enough to get by on her own, which she is fine with, but circumstances have changed.
Needless to say, when her mother called a couple of weeks ago, it was a surprise. Akira was standing in the middle of the stuffy dressing room she called her second home surrounded by women in various stages of undress when the words she never thought she’d hear fell from her mother’s quivering lips - her father was in the hospital. Akira was stunned speechless, the feeling of static washed through her body in waves, disconnecting her from the reality of the chatty atmosphere in the changing room in the back of the dance hall. Her father has always been so healthy, strong, and capable, supporting her and her mother. How could the man she has seen as a pillar of strength be in the hospital? She didn’t give it a second thought before tugging her clothes back on, biting back the uncertain tears.
In a mad dash to catch the afternoon train, she skipped her impending performance. The ride was slow as the dread lingered thick in the air, as the train snaked out of the city into the countryside. By the time she arrived, her tearful mother was standing on the train platform, kneading her hands anxiously. It hadn’t been long since Akira had last visited, but already under the harsh lights on the train platform, she could make out a few new strands of gray shining bright against her mother’s otherwise dark hair. Together they went to the local hospital.
When her eyes fell on her father’s frame in the hospital bed, she couldn't quite place the feelings that stirred within her. He looked surreal, uncanny even. He looked healthy, but the tubes, wires, and tape keeping everything attached begged to differ. He was barely coherent, the left side of his face drooping slightly, as the doctors confessed they were still running tests to pinpoint the cause of his stroke. However, Akira could only focus on the sounds of his sterile hospital room. The whirring and beeping of the machines. Her mother’s soft whimpers and gentle affirmations as she leaned down to kiss the crown of his curly hair. Her mother’s light touch as she comforted her father with her delicate hands on his arms and face, her soft skin catching on the light stubble on his chin. The doctor finally pulled Akira into the hall to give her an idea of his long road to recovery, if he survived the initial aftermath. The doctor’s words were gentle yet firm, but as Akira stood in the doorway, her focus drifted back into the hospital room. The sight of her small-framed mother doting over her father pulled at her heart in the most painful way, and she couldn’t help but feel some sort of guilt for moving so far away, for not being here immediately when her mother needed her most. This blindsided everyone.
She ended up walking her mother home, offered to stay with her overnight even, but she dismissed her, sending Akira on her way. She needed time to herself to process, which is fair. The entire trip back to Fukuoka passed quickly as she was lost in the swirling hurricane in her head, but once Akira had stepped within the threshold of her own simply-furnished apartment, she needed relief. The sake bottle was to her lips, and she drank herself to the point of nearly blacking out on the living room floor.
When the morning light bled through the open blinds, her hangover panged behind her eyes, which slowly bled up across her temples. She didn’t let the pain stop her, though. As best she could, she sprang into action, sifting through job listings for anything she felt was worth the time and in her skill set. In the end, she sent off dozens of applications in hopes at least one would return with good news. Her mother hadn’t worked in years, and her father was still working, supporting them both. She needed to find a way, any way, to help her parents. And while she did dance, she couldn’t pull herself to consider anything seedier in nature. God, if her parents found out she would sell herself for them, their disappointment would kill her. No, she stayed stern and plugged away with the listings.
Little did she know, one of the dozens of listings was an undisclosed accounting position, which she later found out was for the reparations department at Hawks Hero Agency. Math wasn’t her strong suit, but upon interviewing, it was made clear that most of her work would involve on-the-job training, and with spring approaching, they needed all hands on deck as soon as possible. She would mostly be looking over insurance claims and assigning budgets for damage repairs caused during hero work. Of course, someone had to pay for all the damages caused by fighting to protect the public. With the help of funding from the agency’s backers, they can help rebuild and support the families of victims in their time of need. It just never dawned on her as a quirkless person that this was how these things were handled.
Waiting has never been her strong suit. It’s giving her time to second-guess herself and every decision she’s made that has led her to this point. She left earlier than necessary since she had to take the train across Fukuoka, which she normally didn’t need to do since the dance hall is only a few short city blocks away from her apartment building, making it easy for her to walk there every day. She didn’t want to risk being late on her first day at her first official office job. In hindsight, she hopes the clothes she picked out the night before are work-appropriate enough - business casual isn’t exactly easy to pull from her wardrobe. It’s a very different presentation than she would normally wear for dancing, when her legs, midsection, and arms are exposed more often than not. God, just the thought of the dance hall makes her heartache. Thankfully the lead at the hall was more than understanding when Akira called the following day after receiving the news, her hangover still weighing down her thoughts. Her lead has always been so patient with her dancers, especially with Akira - she even offered to cut back Akira’s performances to only be on the weekends, but Akira declined. She needs all the time she can get under her belt, no matter the cost. Time? Sleep? It didn’t matter. She would raise the money to support her parents. After pulling away these past few years, getting swept up in her life in the city, she refuses to let them down now.
“Are you Hatori Akira?” A meek voice cuts through her thoughts, and she's back in the lobby, a small blonde woman standing before her clutching a clipboard to her chest.
“Yes, that’s me,” she bows after standing tall as a greeting, holding her winter coat folded over her arm.
“Welcome to Hawks Hero Agency,” she greets her with a smile. “I hope your first commute wasn’t too much trouble.” She turns and leads Akira to a badge-protected door, scanning her own before leading her back.
“Thank you, I’m honored to be here. Thankfully it wasn’t too bad.” Akira’s eyes wander around the brightly-lit lounge area as they pass through - a few people are sitting around on their phones or laptops. The seating looks soft, casual, much more so than the more structured seating in the lobby. The woman introduces herself as Kio and compliments Akira’s outfit, giving her an immediate sense of relief. She almost laughs before telling her that she wasn’t sure what to expect for attire. Kio grins and explains the dress code, which thankfully is more relaxed than she expected, as she leads Akira into the HR department. She needs to fill out some final paperwork, get her badge, and process her computer information before Kio leads her to an elevator. Once the doors slide closed, Kio and Akira stand side by side, almost awkwardly so. Akira can’t help but wonder if she’s new, too. After what feels like an eternity of soft elevator music, the doors slide open to reveal a cubicle-divided open room with large floor-to-ceiling windows along the far wall, letting in the morning’s natural light. Again, she’s thankful - she’ll get to see the outside while she’s here. She wasn’t sure how she would handle a room with no windows all day. After dropping her things off at her cubicle, she’s tasked with training with another young, lanky man, Yuri, if she recalls correctly. Surprisingly, her tasks aren’t hard to grasp, but the computer system is completely different than she expected, so it’ll take some time to learn how to use it. After a few hours, it’s time for lunch already, and Yuri leads her back down to the seating area, but where it was once large and open, it’s now so packed that it’s hard to find a place to sit. Akira feels a tightness in her chest and throat. So many people, and so much talking make the once large space feel like a broom closet. She tries to recall the map of the building Kio had given her, but she left it upstairs on her desk. Besides, she doesn’t want to come off as rude, so she resigns herself to sit with Yuri in a couple of spare chairs.
“Don’t be nervous. You’re a natural,” he comments, seeing she’s nervous and trying to help, but the air feels as if it’s thickened with so many bodies crammed into every seat, so it doesn’t help much.
“I- Thank you. It’s a little overwhelming, but I’ll get it in no time,” she gives him a small smile before they eat in silence for a few moments. Yuri gives her hotpot stew a side glance as he scoops his noodles into his mouth. The only thing she really knew how to cook in bulk that would keep in the fridge or freezer for days was her mother’s hotpot recipe, so he’ll be seeing a lot of the same in the future.
“I’m sure, you’re capable,” he returns around his bite of food, hiding his mouth behind his hand. “You’re right on time, too. In about a month, it’ll be super crazy here.”
“Why’s that?” She mirrors his mannerisms automatically and asks around a bite of her food while covering her mouth with a napkin in her hand.
“With winter ending, spring always has an uptick of violent crime. Hawks is going to be gone a lot, our department will be running overtime, and who knows how many people will be coming through for representation.” He says it almost like it’s a fact, not a what-if.
“Huh, so Hawks is here often?” She had seen him on the news, heard of his wins, his victories, the work he’s done in an attempt to cut crime to the point that Pro Heroes aren’t so necessary, but it seems to be a losing battle. Now that she thinks about it, she didn’t assume he would actually work at the agency named after him.
“Oh yeah - well, I mean, as often as he can since he’s no. 2 Pro Hero status, but yeah. You’ll probably see him around now and then.” She nods, considering running into him in the halls.
Pro Heroes are celebrities in most people’s eyes, so she’s only seen a handful in passing in the past few years she’s been in the city, especially since she tends to keep to the outskirts. Hell, one of them showed up to watch one of her performances a couple of years ago, and she can still feel the heat that rose to her cheeks and ears when she made eye contact with him after the brighter lights shining on her stage were dimmed. He was large, fiery, imposing. Anyone could recognize the hulking form that was Endeavor as he sat back in her corner, his intense eyes trailing over her barely-covered body, but with the dance hall’s privacy policy, no one said a word, and he was able to sit back and enjoy her performance, like anyone else. To be honest, being scrutinized under his intense gaze made her feel both incredibly vulnerable but supremely invigorated, empowered. To be able to read his wants painted so clearly on his features, his desire as she moved on her platform gave her the biggest ego boost. Having someone as strong and powerful as a Pro Hero behave as any other of her patrons - breathing slightly labored, eyes darkened with approval and need - it reminded her that heroes are like anyone else in her parlor seats, just people wanting to enjoy the show. It’s too bad about the hall’s no-touch policy; otherwise, if she were to let anyone the pleasure to do so, it would have been him.
“You good?” Yuri’s softened voice pulls her back once more, and she realizes her cheeks must have naturally flushed from her thoughts.
“Y-Yes, I’m fine, sorry. I think I need some air,” she says as she stands with what’s left of her food. She doesn’t know where she’s going, but she has to get out of this room before her embarrassment mounts. Thankfully, he nods in understanding.
“Hey, there is a terrace on the roof. With it being cold, there probably isn’t anyone up there, if you need a moment to yourself. I know the first-day jitters are rough.” Akira grabs onto that like a lifeline, giving him a more genuine smile and nodding her head in a small bow of thanks before she heads for the elevator. She doesn’t even stop on her floor to grab her coat on the way up. When the elevator doors open, she’s met with a semi-darkened concrete hall, lit only with a lone light over the elevator. The hall leads to some stairs, and by the time she reaches the top and pushes the roof’s door open, she can already feel the frost-chill air doing its work on her tension. It sweeps into her lungs like she’s coming up for breath for the first time. For a moment, she just stands in the sun, face upturned to the sky, letting the air cleanse her mind, body, and soul. Her glasses have fogged up from the sudden change of temperature, but she barely acknowledges it as she tilts her head to glance over her frames. Yuri was right - no one is up on the terrace, the seating open in the center of the roof. With a sudden whip of the wind, it cuts through her dress shirt, cardigan, and slacks, but she doesn’t care. Even though the tops of her feet are exposed around the opening of her flats, she finds herself rooted where she stands. The cold grounds her and settles her whirling mind in an instant. After a few long moments, she finally moves to sink into one of the iron patio chairs and dives into the rest of her food, pulling her phone from her back pocket to mindlessly scroll and keep track of the time. As her lunch break winds down and the cold finally starts to sink into her bones, she gathers her now-empty food container back into her lunch bag and her phone into her back pocket. However, just as she’s about to get up and return to the beckoning warmth of the building, another gust of a sharp, cold wind embraces her and a soft thud draws her attention.
With a quick turn in her chair, she’s met with a blur of red feathers, tan buckskin, and gold locks before her eyes focus on Hawks standing just yards away. For a brief moment, his feathers are so close to her face, she can nearly feel them, or maybe it’s just how the wind moves around their tips. His wings are still extended from flight as he pushes his blinder back to hold his windswept hair out from his face and then combs the back down of his hair with his fingers as his crimson wings tuck against his back. He takes a couple of steps toward the door before he realizes she’s there, giving him pause as he shifts on his feet to look at her better over his jacket’s high collar that partially covers the lower half of his face, protecting his neck from the cold. He takes off his headphones, letting them settle around his neck. His golden brown eyes barely narrow on her sitting form for a moment before he dazzles her with a grin.
“Well, hi there. What are you doing up here? Aren’t you cold?” He chimes as he makes note of the lack of a coat despite the cold day. Her cheeks and ears are flushed from exposure, and even her knuckles appear reddened and sore as they hold the strap of her bag. Her dark, curly hair is windswept making it wild and untamed.
When she stands and tries to speak, she finds her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She reminds herself he is just a man, right? She can’t lie that his sudden appearance caught her off guard and blew her completely out of her element. It’s one thing to be dancing several yards away from a hero with his undivided attention and another completely to be standing before one who’s speaking directly to her.
His grin settles into a small smirk at her obvious nervousness, but he waits for her response, giving her a considerate head tilt, much like a bird. Obviously, based on the like-new badge hanging on her hip, she works in his building but hasn’t been there long, so he doesn’t intend to make her nervous. She tried to ignore how being stuck under his prying eyes makes her belly do flips. When she finally takes a deep breath, she shivers as another gust of wind pushes at her back and cuts through the thin fabric of her slacks.
“I- Um, sorry, I was just on my lunch break. The main area was so packed, I just needed a moment alone. Am… Am I not supposed to be up here?” she barely finds her voice and hopes the wind carries it. Thankfully, his smirk slides back into a smile and his piercing gaze softens, confirming he heard her, and he gestures for her to follow as he continues to step backward toward the door.
“Of course, you can! I just wasn’t expecting anyone up here since, well, it’s freezing,” he laughs lightly as she quickens her pace to catch up to him, and he opens the door wider for her to enter first, earning a quick, shy nod of thanks, before he steps in after her. “This is just the quickest way for me, ya know? Less likely to run into people needing things.” She bobs her head once in a nod as she takes the first few steps down into the darkened hall, but stops once her glasses fog up again when the warmth of the hallway greets her. However, it’s not like that matters much. Her eyes aren’t used to the dark now that she’s been in the light of the sun for a while, so the once dimly-lit hall appears completely dark to her, but Hawks appears completely unphased. Once he gets the door to latch behind them and they are cast into darkness, it only takes a moment for his hand to ever so gently ghost over her shoulder to guide her down the rest of the steps. She can’t help but flinch under his touch, even if it’s barely there, but she is keenly aware of how he makes sure to follow a step or two behind her to give her space.
Akira hasn’t been touched outside of the context of work or family in literal years. Sure, when she first started at the dance hall, it wasn’t uncommon for her to take the chance of bringing one of her partners home now and then, but she quickly learned that work and private relationships needed to stay separate to keep her sanity. With most of her evenings gone, she didn’t feel the pull to try to connect with others outside of her already small circle. She didn’t realize just how touch-starved she was until this gentle touch elicited such a primal fire within her chest, making her heart race. It’s a completely unexpected feeling - the space within her chest heats as if a fire has just been stoked with kindling, slowly spreading up her neck like a chimney, almost as if her chest is too small to contain it. What’s this feeling, she isn’t sure, but she hopes her companion can’t tell how a simple graze of his fingers over the knit of her cardigan has triggered such an unfamiliar response within her.
Little does she know, his quick eyes see everything - the way her neck and ears have turned a richer red than when they were outside, her shoulder tensing under his fingertips, even the slightest shiver that races down her back. At first, he dismisses it as a natural reaction to being so close to a hero or maybe she is just shy, but upon being confined in the small hallway, he catches the most subtle shift in her scent. No one else would notice unless they had a quirk. He can’t place it exactly, but any shift in things like that usually points to a need. Even though they just met, she’s already a little bird under his fingers, and he can’t resist the slight coy smirk that pulls the corner of his lip up.
She lets him guide her down the rest of the stairs until they’re standing under the soft glow of the light above the elevator, and he finally lets his fingers drift off her shoulder as she goes to push the down button for them. He doesn’t miss how she shuffles to put some distance between them, so he idles, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets as they wait. His gaze falls on her face once more when she finally gives him a sideways glance. Even in the dim light, the flush of her skin is prominent. It doesn’t take his heightened senses to see it. Now on even footing and not so caught off guard, Akira takes him in properly and notices they are about the same height, so he doesn’t come off as intimidating as before, but he makes up for it with how his honeyed eyes bore holes into her face.
“What’s your name, little bird?” He asks as he tucks his chin under the collar of his jacket once more. She recognizes the nickname as a variant of what he calls his fans. She has trouble maintaining eye contact but does her best to not falter.
“Hatori Akira, sir,” she gives a respectful bow to make up for their informal rooftop meeting. “Today is my first day in the reparations department.”
“Ah, I see.” As if a switch flips, his demeanor relaxes and his gaze softens when she returns his gaze, an apology written in the fine line that has appeared on his forehead, only visible because of the poor lighting. “Yeah, I know they wanted to be better prepared this year after last year’s nightmare of a season. Hopefully, it won’t be nearly as rough this year, though. Kind of the point of heroes, ya know?” His subdued voice surprises her. The Hawks on TV is boisterous, fun, confident even. Seeing him so much more down to earth affirms he’s just like any other man, so she takes a deep breath and nods, letting some of her nerves go on her exhale.
“Right, I had heard last year wasn’t a good year. I hope I can be of some help. To be honest, I’ve… I’ve never done this work before, but I need this job. More than I’d like to admit.” She pauses, twiddling with the strap of her bag, listening to the elevator’s whirring as it approaches. She can feel his eyes still on her when she realizes she is rambling, so she casts him a meek smile. “I’m glad to have the opportunity.” He smiles in return, and in the dim light, she’s unsure if she imagines his eyes sliding from her eyes to her smile and back up to her eyes without pause before the doors open.
“Of course,” he says passively as he grins and steps into the elevator with her, pressing one of the upper-level numbers and then the reparation department’s number. “You’ll do just fine, kid. Just don’t think about it too much. Sometimes that work is really hard on ya.” He casts her a side-eye. “If you haven’t seen that already, I know it’s your first day.” Akira gives an automatic nod.
“I understand. It’s… a lot to process so quickly. But I’ll be okay, I’ve always been a fast learner,” she returns his grin with a smile. “Best of luck with your work. Stay safe out there.” Hawks raises a brow in surprise, his grin sliding into a smirk again before the elevator doors open to his floor.
“Ha, no need to worry about me, little bird. Just keep your head down, and you’ll be just fine. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” He claps his hand on her shoulder lightly with a small squeeze before stepping out and turning back to her. She can’t help but hold his gaze as he smirks and waves until the doors glide close. Once in the privacy of the elevator alone, she nearly falls back against the back wall.
What was that?! Who am I, a teenager swooning for a superhero? She rubs the palm of her hands into her eye sockets before holding her face as if to wipe away the blush from her features. She never imagined she would run into Hawks like that, let alone on her first day when she was alone. Maybe they would meet in passing during a conference or she would catch a glance of him across the office. Her heart is pounding hard against her ribs as she approaches her floor. In an almost panic, she takes a deep breath to steady herself and schools expression into composure as best she can before the doors open. There is no time to linger on thoughts of what just happened as she steps from the elevator, leaving her bag in her cubicle and taking a moment to tame her windswept hair before going to train with Yuri. However, she guesses the deep flush of her skin isn’t under control when his eyebrows shoot up as she takes a seat.
“Wow, you okay? It’s cold up there, right?”
“Huh? Oh, right,” she bites her lip for a moment, wondering if she should tell him what happened. “Hawks arrived while I was on the roof.”
“What?!” He gasps a little too loud for her liking, earning a shoosh from her. “Are you serious? Huh, lucky, he’s always so busy.” He scoffs under his breath, and for a moment she wonders if he’s jealous, but it’s quickly pushed aside to continue her training for the day. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, he randomly pauses and asks her about what he said, what he did, what they talked about. She obliges, but by the end of the shift, she has forgotten about their meeting in favor of planning out her evening. While she is beyond ready to go home, she knows that’s not an option. No one is going to make her problems disappear.
After clocking out for the first time, she steps out onto the street in the chilly late afternoon air. The wind is still whistling between the buildings, so she pulls the collar of her coat higher around her neck. She’s not sure how she’s going to manage the coming weeks of a day job and performing at night, but she will figure it out like she always did. But first, all she can think about is filling up on a warm meal to chase away the chill that’s already begun settling into her bones as she walks to the train station on her way to the dance hall.