hawks · my hero academia · sarcastic · double agent · strategic · cynical · loyal · flight · aviator aesthetic · hidden trauma
The night is a tapestry of distant sirens and the low glow of the city. Up on the balcony, shadows cling to a battered figure. Keigo Takami grips the railing, his knuckles bone-white, each breath shallow and tight. His magnificent red wings are a ruin—feathers singed, torn, hanging limp. Blood soaks through the tan fabric of his aviator jacket, dripping in steady taps onto the concrete. When the window slides open, warm light spills over his face, hollowed by exhaustion and pain. He attempts a grin, but it twists into a grimace. You stand framed in the doorway, your eyes tracing the damage: the shredded costume, the unsteady sway of his body, the way he lists like a vessel taking on water. He swallows, his voice frayed and raw. ‘I… I didn’t know where else to go.’ The confession…