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Keigo had nearly dived into the fire.
Nearly.
He had felt the flames tickle his feathers, the heat blaze across his face. He had seen those flames with his own eyes. He had heard those heart-wrenching cries with his own ears.
But Keigo had pulled out before his feathers could even recoil. It had been out of his control, too. It was like someone had pulled him out of it before he could hurt himself.
And so, there stood Keigo. Out of harm’s reach, hovering in the air.
And he couldn’t get himself to dive back in.
He couldn't.
And Hawks had always gone straight for the fire. He had never truly cared for himself, had always given it his all, only keeping in mind that Madam President would be annoyed if her asset died so young.
But now…
As he flew into danger, Touya and Haya-chan’s faces always struck through his mind.
As Keigo neared danger, he would see Hayato's toothless grin when Keigo came back from work, or Touya’s soft smile as they settled for the night, Hayato’s peaceful face when he was asleep, Touya’s grin whenever he got what he wanted. He would hear Hayato’s chirps and coos, Touya’s giggles and chuckles, Hayato's melodic laugh, Touya’s purr.
And then he would see their faces, broken and pierced through, hear Touya’s deep sobs and Hayato’s strong wails.
And Keigo would remember that, now, he had a home to come back to, a family he couldn’t leave behind for the sake of saving another’s.
It never failed to remind him why Madam President hadn’t wanted him to form any kind of positive relationship with anyone.
Keigo never got reckless, never was quite ready to sacrifice his life. Not when he had so much to lose, now.
And so Keigo kept out of danger, high up, sending feathers around, wincing when they got sinched, searching and scanning for cries, heartbeats, sobs, breaths.
On that particular night, the fire took too many lives. And when Keigo had to go back on the ground to send more feathers in, he knew there weren’t any to save. And yet, he stayed with the firemen and other heroes, praying, even though he knew it was pointless.
In the end, there were too many to count. The fire had been too strong, too sudden, and there was nothing that anyone could have done that would have saved those lives.
Or so others said. Keigo knew it wasn’t right.
Keigo knew that if he hadn’t been bathing Hayato when he got the alert, then he could have made it a couple of minutes earlier.
Keigo knew that if he wasn’t indulging in Touya’s cooking so often, he would be lighter and faster.
Keigo knew that if he wasn’t wasting so much time resting and enjoying life instead of working and training, he could have been better.
Keigo knew that if he wasn’t a coward, then he could have saved people out of the fire.
But no one was telling him any of this. No one was saying much; people’s gaze stuck on the ground, never looking up.
Keigo was one of the last heroes to leave the scene, after an EMT checked up on him, even though Keigo had insured them he was fine.
And because he didn’t have enough feathers, Keigo had to walk home. It was late, but people were still on the streets, the whole city shocked by the loss they had experienced. Keigo didn’t have to look at his phone to know press conferences and memorials would flood his agenda in the next few days.
Civilians called out his hero name, but Keigo didn’t feel worthy of replying to it.
So Keigo kept walking, and walking, and walking. He walked past his favorite chicken spot, the bakery that made cherry mochi, Hayato’s favorite toy store.
And then, way too late, he made it to their apartment building. He took the elevator, like he only did when he was with Hayato and Touya, hesitating on the floor number for a second.
He realized he didn’t have his keys with him when he made it to the door. He had left in such a hurry, he had left everything but his hero costume behind.
He tried for the handle, but found it locked. He reached for a feather, but could only feel those baby feathers he couldn’t control, the ones at the base of his wings and crawling up his neck into his hair, and his tail feathers, his useless, ugly tail feathers.
He looked around, as if he could find something to help him.
Then he looked at his phone, blurring the notifications out.
3 am.
It was too late for Touya to still be up.
And yet, before he could even think about knocking and disturbing his mate’s rest, he heard the lock turn and saw the door open, just a sliver at first, with blue flashing, the lights of the hallway reflecting in it, against the dark of the apartment.
Then wide, with Touya letting out a sigh of relief, throwing himself at Keigo.
"You came back home,” Touya whispered, holding Keigo tight, his chamomile hair tickling Keigo’s nose. “You’re okay.”
Keigo stood there, dumbfounded, his hands in the air. He had made it home, but to what cost?
"You’re okay, right?” Touya asked, detaching himself a bit, but not fully, from Keigo, concerned eyes scanning him.
"I’m okay,” Keigo croaked with a nod, trying to smile, but he couldn’t.
"Did an EMT check on you?” Touya asked, another question Keigo wasn’t worthy of.
Again, Keigo nodded.
Touya sighed, looking down and interlacing his hands with Keigo’s, walking back inside the apartment and dragging Keigo inside.
Inside their home. Touya’s, Hayato’s, and Keigo’s home. Their apartment, with their office turned nursery, their always filled kitchen, their warm living room, their bathroom littered with toys, their bedroom with a big nest at the centre of it.
Their home.
Because Keigo had made it home.
"I’ll make us tea,” Touya said, walking and walking and walking towards the kitchen, and Keigo wondered when his apartment had gotten so big. It certainly felt bigger, without his wings in the way. “Are you hungry?”
Eating was the last thing Keigo was thinking about.
"No,” he muttered, letting Touya sit him down at their table, the one where they ate as a family.
Touya looked at Keigo, as if he didn’t trust him.
"Tell me if you get hungry, yeah?” Touya added, finally letting go of Keigo’s hands to get started on the tea. Keigo didn’t reply.
He wanted to send a feather to check on Hayato, but even that little feather he loved to keep near his little owl was now but a mere pile of ashes.
"He fell asleep just a bit later than usual,” Touya told him, the kettle whistling in the background. “He got a bit shaken up when you left, but he settled down afterwards.”
"Sorry for leaving like that,” Keigo said, his voice hurting from speaking so many words in a row. “I…”
"You don't have to apologise," Touya sighed. “Not to me at least.”
He turned his back to Keigo to pick the tea.
"I watched the news as soon as Hayato got to sleep,” Touya added. “Do they know how the fire started?”
Keigo shook his head.
"Watanabe called you?”
"Yeah,” Touya nodded, licking his dry lips as he put two tea spoons of tea in his favorite tea pot. “My localisation was checked, and we live just far enough for it not to raise any alarms. He’ll still probably call you tomorrow, just to make sure I was with you when the fire started.”
"'Kay.”
"Keigo, I-” Touya got interrupted by the kettle, quickly reaching for it and pouring the steaming water on dried tea leaves.
"Yeah?”
"I’m really glad you’re home and unhurt.”
Keigo didn’t have the will to say it back.
So, instead, he focussed on the quiet of the night. The slight buzz of their fridge, Touya’s breathing, honking in the distance, Hayato’s sleepy chirps, his own breathing, strangely loud, and helicopter, somewhere.
"You can talk to me about it, you know?” Touya said with that soft smile of his that stopped Keigo from ending it all. His mate’s head was slightly cocked to the side, white bangs falling with the motion, mating scar exposed in the dimness of the night. “You know I can take it,” he ended with a little laugh, and Keigo knew it was forced.
"I don’t want to,” he said, perhaps a bit too harshly.
It seemed to phase Touya, if only for a second.
"You don’t have to,” the omega whispered, busying himself again with the tea. “But, you know, if you do want to, at some point, you know where to find me.”
Keigo nodded and looked as Touya poured their tea.
He always did it so gracefully, as if he had been doing it forever, even though Keigo knew that Touya had spent so many years without even having a tea pot. But he also knew how much that art meant to Touya, how he saw it almost as a kind of meditation, and how he associated it with his mom.
"You shouldn’t have stayed up,” Keigo found himself saying. “Thanks," he muttered when Touya slid a hot cup of tea his way.
"You know I can never sleep when you’re out on a dangerous mission like that,” Touya scoffed. “And I knew you'd forgotten your keys. I don’t mind anyway.”
But Keigo did. He did mind, that Touya had stayed up late because of him.
Just like how Hayato had been startled because of him.
Just like how people had died because of him.
"I saw a guy die,” he said, perhaps out of the blue, but the scalding of the cup against his fingers was bringing a sense of urgency to him, as if he needed to speak out those words before they flew away in the wind like ashes.
Touya’s blue eyes went wide, before dimming down, looking down.
"Lots of casualties, uh?”
"Too many,” Keigo corrected him. "I saw him die, had my feathers around his wrists as he died.”
Keigo couldn’t explain why he was telling Touya all of it. Touya didn’t deserve it.
"Sorry,” Touya said, taking a sip of his tea. "I…. I…”
Keigo wasn’t expecting his mate to know what to say. He doubted Touya had ever seen a life go out in front of him that he so desperately wanted to save.
"And a little girl, not older than the one from floor 7. An older woman, she reminded me of your mom. And another woman, she had blonde hair like Himiko. And a baby and their mom, and someone’s dog, and another man, and another woman, and another kid, another man, another woman, another ki-”
"Keigo,” Touya interrupted him with a whine. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
"They all died because of me. They were all someone’s daughter or son, or dog, and most of them probably had a son or a daughter, and none of them will ever get to go home again, and it’s all my fault.”
Keigo felt like his throat was closing up and he feared he had gotten smoke damage after all.
"It’s not your fault,” Touya said, clicking his cup against the counter top and reaching for Keigo’s hands, but Keigo was, at least for this, quick enough to retract it. “It’s not,” Touya repeated.
"It is!” Keigo hissed, and he knew he shouldn’t get angry, not at Touya, but he couldn’t help it. He was tired and in pain, and Touya was right there, and he hated himself for behaving like that. “I almost flew into the fire, you know?”
Touya gasped, low, but there.
"I didn’t know,” he whispered, looking at where Keigo’s hand had been seconds ago.
"I almost did,” Keigo said. “But then, I thought of you and Hayato, and I didn’t. And now, those people, those people who have their own Touya and Hayato, they won’t see their Touya and Hayato, and their Touya and Hayato won’t ever see them ever again, but I get to.”
Keigo didn’t even know if what he was saying was making any ounce of sense.
"Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?” Touya asked with a frown, and Keigo couldn’t quite pinpoint when this had started taking the appearance of a fight. “Am I supposed to feel sad that my mate and the father of my baby did not die and got to come home, uh?”
"Someone’s mate didn’t come home,” Keigo said. "Someone’s father didn’t come home.”
"And it’s not your fault,” Touya nearly growled. “It’s not your fault that the fire started, and it isn’t your fault that they were there, at the wrong place, wrong time, and it isn’t your fault that-”
"It is!” Keigo banged his fist against the table, his tea cup tipping over, the hot tea falling down on the t able and onto the floor. He didn’t care. “If I had been faster or better or-”
"Keigo, you’re the fastest hero in all of Japan,” Touya said, not shouting, but Keigo could see he was losing his temper too. "If you couldn’t save them, if you and all of the heroes and firemen who were there couldn’t save, then no one could have."
"I could have!” Keigo’s voice boomed, and part of him hated himself for the way it made Touya recoil. “Before, I would have been faster and better and-”
"Oh yeah?” Touya sneered, his own cup forgotten. “Back when you were slaving yourself to the Commission, uh?”
"Yes!” Keigo admitted, his forearms hitting the table. “I was faster and better then!”
"You were a shell of yourself, Keigo, and you know that,” Touya glared. “Overworked and exhausted. And maybe you would have been overexhausted from your thirteenth shift in a row and maybe you would have passed out and not saved anyone.”
"Or maybe I would have saved everyone, because that’s how I was trained!”
"Even you couldn’t have saved everyone,” Touya snarled. “And that’s okay."
"Okay?” Keigo laughed, hating the way it came out. “Coming from an ex-villain, that seems fitting.”
Keigo knew that was a low blow. As soon as it had come out of his mouth, he’d known he shouldn’t have said that. He could see the hurt in Touya’s eyes, evident and immediate.
"I never would have done something like this and you know it,” he said, half a whisper, half a gasp. “I never hurt innocent civilians, and you know it.”
"Did you?” Keigo cackled. “You weren’t opposed to kidnapping hero students.”
"Keigo,” Touya growled.
"So it’s no wonder you don’t get what I’m saying,” Keigo kept going, even though he really knew he should really shut the fuck up and go to bed before breaking something he could never live without. “If you had been in my place, you would have run away, wouldn't you, Dabi?”
"Keigo, don’t-”
"Because all that matters to you is that you get out alive, right?” Keigo grinned.
"Keigo!”
"Maybe I should have just flown-”
"HAWKS!”
That stunned Keigo a bit.
Long enough for Hayato’s cries to rise from the silence.
As expected, Touya was the first to react, stomping his way towards their room, where Hayato had been sleeping before being woken up by them arguing.
It was only when Touya left and Keigo was left basking in the silence that Keigo realized what kind of horrors he had told Touya. Touya, who hadn’t asked for any of it, or even deserved any of it.
Touya, who had stayed up late into the night just because he knew Keigo had forgotten his keys.
Touya, who had made them tea. Keigo’s least-not-liked calming tea.
Touya, who had been willing to listen to Keigo, only for Keigo to treat him like scum.
Not letting himself cry for his own acts, Keigo got up and cleaned the mess he had made of his tea. He hadn’t even gotten around to drink a single slip of it. To his dismay, that was quickly dealt with.
The nursery door opened after what felt like hours, and Keigo looked up to see Touya with Hayato in his arms. But their baby owl wasn’t crying anymore. Instead, when Hayato spotted him, his little face lit up, eyes wide, mouth breaking into a wide grin, his legs kicking, arms flailing, and wings flapping loudly as he cooed and chirped.
Touya had to tighten his hold to keep him from wriggling free. “Easy, baby bird,” he murmured, but Hayato was having none of it, squirming, reaching, his whole body pointed toward Keigo. “See?” He glared at Keigo. "All he wanted was for you to come home.”
Keigo’s chest cracked open. He stumbled forward, hands already outstretched, and Touya passed Hayato into his arms. The baby owl immediately tucked himself against Keigo’s neck, little fingers gripping at his curls, giggling like this was the best moment of his entire life.
Keigo froze, arms stiff, trembling, wing nubs quivering like they didn’t belong to him.
“You’re… too happy to see me,” he rasped, his throat closing up. “You don’t even know-”
Hayato squealed again, patting at his cheeks with both hands as if to scold him for being gone too long. His laugh was bright, melodic, bubbling from deep inside, with not a single trace of sorrow. To him, Keigo wasn’t late. He wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t guilty. He was just dada . And dada had come home.
Keigo’s face crumpled. His knees gave out, and he sank to the floor right there, clutching Hayato tight to his chest. The sob tore out of him before he could swallow it back, raw and jagged.
The truth was, Keigo was scared. He was scared that he had almost not come home, that he had almost broke their home apart, and he was still scared that the Commission would call him to let him know just how many people had died because of him, that he would go through his punishment and not get to feel sorry for himself.
“I’m sorry,” he choked, burying his face in Hayato’s soft hair, breathing him in like he’d vanish if he let go. “I’m so sorry, baby bird. I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t-” His voice broke, collapsing into quiet, desperate sounds.
Hayato didn’t understand, of course. He only giggled again, pressing sloppy kisses against Keigo’s cheek with his drool-slick mouth, as if he could kiss away the tears spilling down his father’s face.
Touya crouched down in front of them, not touching yet, just watching. His eyes softened in a way Keigo didn’t deserve. “Kei,” he said, gentle but firm, “you don’t owe him an apology for being human. He doesn’t need perfect. He just needs you here.”
Keigo shook his head, tears dripping off his chin. “But I-” His breath hitched hard. He pressed Hayato even closer, rocking him instinctively, as if keeping him moving could keep him safe. “Touya, I almost didn’t come back. I wanted to dive in, I should have dived in-”
“And if you had, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” Touya cut in, low and fierce. He reached forward, finally resting a hand against Keigo’s shaking knee. “And then what? He’d be alone. I’d be alone. You think that’d make the world better? You think we’d rather have a dead hero than you? You and I know more than most how important it is to have a father that’s actually there, not absent or not off playing hero for everyone but his own kids.”
Keigo’s sobs came harder now, unstoppable, his shoulders shaking. Hayato pulled back just enough to press both his tiny hands against his father’s wet cheeks, cooing softly, almost confused by the tears. Then he laughed again, bright and unbothered, as if to remind Keigo that all he saw was home.
“I don’t deserve him,” Keigo whispered brokenly. “I don’t deserve either of you.”
Touya’s hand tightened, grounding. “You don’t get to decide that. We do. And we chose you, Keigo. I choose you. Every damn day.”
Keigo let out a shuddering breath, leaning forward until his forehead pressed against Touya’s. His tears wet Touya’s scarred skin, hot against cool. Hayato squawked between them, but didn’t pull away, content in the nest of their bodies.
“I’m sorry,” Keigo repeated, hoarse now, like he’d carved the words out of his own chest. “I’m so fucking sorry. For the fight, for the words, for everything.”
Touya closed his eyes, sighing through his nose, their foreheads still touching. “You’re forgiven,” he said simply. “Just… don’t run from us when it hurts, Keigo. We’re not the Commission. We can take it. Let us take it.”
Keigo nodded, a jerky, desperate motion. He kissed the top of Hayato’s head, then pressed a trembling kiss to Touya’s temple. He didn’t deserve them, but they were here. They were real. And for tonight, at least, that was enough.
Keigo’s sobs dwindled into hiccups, his chest aching, his eyes red and swollen. Hayato had gone back to humming little coos, his head tucked under his dada’s chin, content in the heat of his parents pressed together.
Touya stroked a hand through Keigo’s messy curls once, then pulled back enough to look him in the face.
“You reek of smoke,” he murmured, voice softer now, like a cooling flame. “Shower. Then bed.”
“I-” Keigo started, but Touya’s eyes narrowed, daring him to argue.
“No debates. You’ll feel less like ash once it’s washed off.”
Keigo swallowed, his throat still raw, and gave a shaky nod. He didn’t let go of Hayato, though, until Touya stood and carefully plucked their son from his arms. Their baby owl protested with a tired whine, but Touya hushed him with a kiss to the temple.
“You’ll get him back in five minutes, baby,” Touya said, quirking an eyebrow at Keigo. “Now move.”
Keigo did. He dragged himself into the bathroom, stripped out of the hero costume that felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, and stepped under the water. He let it burn against his skin until the grime and soot spiraled down the drain. It didn’t take the guilt with it, but it dulled the edge, left him clean enough to crawl into the nest Touya had built with blankets and pillows in their room.
By the time he emerged, hair damp, shoulders bare, he found Touya already tucked in, Hayato sprawled between them on his stomach, little fists clutched tight as he dreamed.
Keigo climbed in slowly, every muscle aching, every bone heavy. He curled instinctively toward his son, brushing a kiss against his tiny hand. Then, without meaning to, he shifted toward Touya too, needing the anchor of him.
"I’m sorry,” Keigo whispered again, voice cracking, not trusting himself to say more.
Touya opened one eye, watching him in the dim light. His hand slid up to cup Keigo’s cheek, thumb brushing over skin still damp from the shower.
“Not now,” he said firmly, but without heat. “Rest first. Apologies after.”
Keigo’s lip trembled. “But-”
“No,” Touya leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, grounding him with the same stubborn tenderness he always had. “You’ve bled enough words tonight. Sleep. Then tomorrow, when you’re steady, you can say whatever you need to say. And I’ll listen. I’ll be there. I love you now, and I’ll still love you tomorrow.”
"I love you too,” he quickly added, afraid that Touya would think otherwise if he wasn’t quick enough. “Hayato and you, I love you so much, it… It scared me sometimes.”
Touya’s reply came with a sigh.
"Me too… But I think it’s worth it, no?"
"Yeah.”
Keigo closed his eyes, throat tightening all over again, but he didn’t fight it this time. He let the warmth of Touya’s hand, the steady rhythm of Hayato’s breathing, and the softness of the nest pull him under.
For the first time since the fire, he felt like maybe he could stay.