Chapter Text
What the FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK. HE WAS GONNA KILL THAT GUY.
Dabi fluttered his stupid little wings and let out a screech of rage. Okay, nevermind – he’d already killed that guy. He tilted his head to get a better look at where he had been standing, the charred, macabre grin of a crumbling skeleton staring back. Well, that’s what you get for going toe-to-toe with Japan’s No. 1 Arsonist. He tched, which came out as an adorable little chirp, before hopping over to where his clothes were piled on the floor. With no hands, he was forced to try and move the fabric around with his beak, which was woefully inefficient and deeply infuriating, until he could finally shove his head into his pocket and pull out his phone. It was easily the same size as him. Fuck. He tried switching it on, but his stupid little bird feet weren’t made for pressing things, and he had a blind spot right in front of him now that his eyes were on the side of his face which meant it was difficult to aim his beak. After a while he gave up, picking it up with his beak and trying to throw it around in anger, which didn’t work because it was too heavy. Fuck!
He would find someone with a resurrection quirk, bring that guy back, and then kill him again. He couldn’t even move his coat so that it wasn’t in the middle of the floor where anyone could find it and pick it up. That was his coat, dammit! He didn’t want some POS coming in and stealing it!
He would have to head back to the League like this, figure out a way to explain the situation and have one of them come back and grab his stuff. Then one of them could start investigating this asshat’s dumb stupid quirk and figure out how to undo it. He was never going to live this down.
He took off, fluttering around the warehouse until he found a hole in the wall he could fly out of. The small mercy was that being a bird apparently cancelled out his motion sickness, and things like flying seemed to come naturally to him – no learning curve. Although, that could just be a ‘him’ thing since he usually picked stuff up so quickly. He’d seen birds fly before, hell, he’d spent a decent amount of time recently researching wings so that he knew all of Birdbrain’s weak points, putting it into practice was just the next step if you thought about it.
It was a lovely, sunny day outside the warehouse and Dabi was stuck as a stupid little bird. Fuck, which way was the hideout? He was in Fukuoka at the moment, was he going to have to fly all the way out of the city? Shit. That was a long way when you were walking as a human, even with (as Spinner had once put it) ‘stupidly-long legs’. Not flying as a pocket-sized parrot, with wings that wouldn’t even be worth frying.
He didn’t fly too high up – it’d give him a good vantage point, sure, but he didn’t need that at the moment. Staying just above the familiar pavement and letting his memory of the route guide him was much more effective. He’d have to head to the train station and get on somehow. The police couldn’t stop him – he was a bird! But birds loose in train cars tended to have a bunch of annoying do-gooders trying to catch them and let them out. He’d just have to outmanoeuvre them. Or perch on one of the backs of the train car and hope that he could hang on for the whole journey. He had no idea how strong his feet were. They looked like little pink toothpicks though, so he wasn’t holding out much hope.
Downtown Fukuoka was busy, because it always was, and you’d think there’d be less traffic to worry about when flying but the number of pigeons made it pretty similar to walking through the pedestrian-filled streets. Except pedestrians followed the pavement, pigeons went wherever the fuck they wanted. Flying was tiring, his arms were not used to this kind of workout, even if his bird body was built for it. He decided to perch on one of the telephone lines for a moment to get his breath back and look around. There were some pigeons and crows on the same line, but they didn’t bother him. He looked down – maybe if he was lucky, he could shit on a patrolling hero. That would make this awful day a little better.
“Woah there!” A familiar voice said from far too close.
Dabi turned around, feathers puffed up to see Hawks, in all his stupid, smarmy glory, hovering near the telephone line, canned coffee in hand while the other one pushed his visor up into his hair.
“Where have you come from?” He asked, “You a lost pet?”
“FUCK YOU!” Dabi screeched back, hoping that Birdbrain might actually be able to understand.
“You’re definitely not a native Japanese bird,” Hawks continued. No luck on being understood then.
“Don’t be bird-racist, fuckwad!” Dabi screeched back.
“Let’s get you somewhere safe, yeah?” Hawks said, “Try and find your owner.”
“No one ‘owns’ me you piece of shit!” Dabi yelled back, fluffing his feathers up in intimidation as much as he could. He still wasn’t any bigger than a nashi pear.
Hawks tipped his head back to down the last of his coffee and Dabi decided that he’d had enough of this shit and there was no way he was letting some hero ferry him off to a vet. He took off from the telephone line, heading towards the park where he could hopefully perch in a tree and not be seen and bothered by goody-two-shoes idiots.
He hadn’t even gone three feet when he was, quite literally, plucked out of the air.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” He screeched.
Shit! He was going to be eaten!
“Calm down, I’m not gonna hurt ya,” Hawks said from above him.
Oh yeah. Why had he thought Hawks was going to eat him? That man only ate deep-fried garbage, not prime, free-range arsonist. He felt his tiny heart start to slow again and decided to spend the rest of the flight trying to bite his way through Hawks’ stupid gloves, in order to then bite his way through his stupid fingers afterwards. He couldn’t even get a thread loose. Stupid hard-wearing hero-gear.
Stupid, fast hero who was covering ground (air?) way faster than Dabi had managed to fly. They were already four streets down, something that had taken Dabi at least fifteen minutes. Took idiot-features three seconds. Soon they were landing, people shifting out of the way with ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ as Hawks folded his wings and walked confidently into the vet clinic. Dickhead.
“Hawks!” The receptionist said, blushing as he caught sight of who had just walked through the door. Dabi was rolling his eyes, not that anyone could tell.
“Heya!” Hawks said, cheerful, and personable, and annoying, “Any reports for a lost pet? Found this little guy flying around a few streets over.”
He held Dabi up as he explained, and Dabi let out the meanest screech he was capable of.
“Uh, no reports yet, but I can phone around some of the other clinics,” the receptionist offered.
“That’d be great!” Hawks said, “Can I leave them here with you?”
He was just going to leave him here?
“Fuck you, birdbrain!” Dabi squawked, “I hope your next lot of karaage gives you food poisoning!”
“Uh, let me check,” the receptionist, “I don’t know if we’ve got any space for birds right now.”
Hawks nodded, “you do that.”
The receptionist nodded, cheeks still pink as he bowed to Hawks and then hurried off through a door to go and bother someone else, presumably.
“Excuse me,” a voice from the side said. Dabi cocked his head to the side. Some old woman was tugging at Hawks’ sleeve.
“Heya!” Birdbrain said.
“I was just wondering if you could sign something for my grandson – he’s a big fan of yours,” she said, holding out a small notebook and pen. Both of Hawks’ hands were wrapped around Dabi, keeping his wings pinned to his side. Excellent! When he tried to shift his grip, Dabi could get a wing free and hopefully escape to continue trying to get back to the League. He'd already reached his damn limit for idiocy today, he didn't have time for this shit.
“No problem!” Hawks said before a feather zipped out from his wings, wrapping around the pen and scribbling over the paper before returning. Fuck.
“I fucking hate you, you overpowered piece of shit,” Dabi said.
The old woman turned to him with a smile, “Aw, isn’t he cute!”
“MIND YOUR DAMN BUSINESS, GRANDMA!”
“Is he yours?” She asked, turning back to Hawks.
“No, just a little lost wanderer I’m hoping to return,” he replied.
“Shut the fuck up!”
“Aw, poor thing,” she said.
“Fuck you.”
“Well, I hope he gets back to his family.” She continued.
“Me too,” Hawks said with a grin.
Smarmy piece of shit.
“Hawks?” They turned around to see the receptionist had returned. Prick.
“The vet says you can bring the runaway through for a check-up,” he continued.
“Awesome!” Hawks said. He turned back to the old woman, “Give my best to your grandson.”
“Will do!” She said, bowing.
Dabi tched again. Hawks carried him through to the check-up room, placing him down on the table. Freedom! Dabi immediately took off, flying straight to the top of the cupboards so he could view the room from above and get an idea of any exit strategies.
“Oh dear!” the vet said, “Looks like someone’s shy!”
“SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH,” Dabi squawked back.
“Well, at least we know they can fly alright,” the vet said, before getting out a stool and wandering over to the cupboards to start climbing up to where she could see him. Dabi hopped away to the other end of the cupboard. There were only two exits – the door they had come through, and one on the opposite wall. And unfortunately, this room and everyone in it (bar stupid Hawks) would be prepared to stop any animal from escaping. It wasn’t looking good for him. Shitting hell.
He fluttered back down to the table. Guess he’d better get it over with.
The vet clambered back down from the cupboard with a sigh. Served her right for sticking her nose in his business.
“I assume he’s a pet since he doesn’t look like any bird I’ve seen in the city,” Hawks said.
“You’re right,” the vet said, “They're a lovebird. A black-masked blue, specifically. They’re a type of parrot.”
A LOVEBIRD? Fuck off.
“I can’t see one of those leg rings,” Hawks said.
“Pet birds don’t need them. Ringing is used to keep track of wild populations, not domestic ones,” the vet explained.
“How do you find out who their owner is then?” Hawks asked.
The vet shrugged, “Small birds don’t need licenses to be kept, and so long as they’re strictly indoors they don’t need to be registered. Our best bet is to put up posters and put something online about him. Hope someone comes forward.”
She moved towards him, putting her hands carefully around Dabi’s wings and middle. He bit her. She flinched but didn’t otherwise react. Dabi didn’t pout. She moved forward and prised his beak open with her fingers, staring into his mouth. Rude. He bit her again. She picked him up. He bit her and tried to let out his best growl. It was decidedly un-ferocious. She pulled his wing out gently until it was fully extended, looking over the feathers, before doing the same to the other wing. He hissed at her. Then she held him belly-up and parted the feathers between his legs.
“I BEG YOUR ABSOLUTE FUCKING PARDON, DOCTOR PERVERT,” he shrieked.
She put him back down on the table, where he shook out his feathers and crouched down to leave her a present for that little performance.
“Well, he seems like a perfectly healthy, adult male lovebird,” she said.
“Excellent, I’ll go then?” Hawks, said, thumb pointing at the door.
“Uh, well, we don’t actually have anywhere to keep him,” the vet explained awkwardly, “all our birdcages are currently full with recovering animals, so we really can’t move them to make room for him.”
“Oh,” Hawks said, “what do you normally do when that happens?”
“Well, we can try calling around for a foster, which Thomas is doing now, but I happen to know that our main fosters are currently unavailable.”
“All of them?” Hawks asked.
“Well, we only have two,” the vet said, “birds have very specific needs. That’s also why we can only fit three avian patients at a time. They need a lot of space and a lot of social interactions and enrichment.”
Hawks scratched his head, “can they…share?”
“Well, our little runaway here needs to go into quarantine before he’s introduced to any other birds. Since we don’t know where he’s been and he’s probably been interacting with feral bird populations.”
“What do we do then?” Hawks asked.
The vet sighed, scratching her head.
“Just let me go,” Dabi said, “I don’t need any of that shit, I just need to get on a damn train.”
“I know, baby, I know,” the vet said.
Baby?! “Fuck off!”
“As I said, we’ll try contacting our fosters, but one of them’s already got one bird in their quarantine enclosure and the other one’s taking care of some newly hatched chicks, so I doubt they’ll have the time for another bird. Our best bet is to try and find the owner as quickly as possible.”
“Okay, well I can start canvasing with posters along with some of my sidekicks?” Hawks offered.
“You’re not going to find shit,” Dabi said, “I’m not a fucking pet.”
“There’s still nowhere to keep him in the meantime,” the vet said, “he can’t stay in the check-up room. I could put him in a crate for a few hours but any longer than that would be really unfair to him – he won’t be able to fly, he won’t be able to perch and he’ll get stressed out.”
“Okay, well me and the sidekicks will head out and start canvasing and I’ll come back in at the end of my patrol to check in and we’ll decide what to do from there based on what happens, yeah?” He offered.
The vet nodded, “That should work,” she said. “I’ll get the posters done in the next ten minutes or so, is that okay?”
“No problem!” Hawks said, before pulling out a notepad and pen, “When the posters are done, email them here and one of my sidekicks will start printing some from my agency as well,” he said, pulling the page out and passing it over.
She nodded, tucking it into her pocket before pulling out her phone, “Let’s just grab a photo of you, handsome!”
God, people really couldn’t act normal around heroes, could they?
“This way, beautiful!” she said, tapping the table next to him and Dabi realised she had been talking to him.
He looked at her, feathers puffing up in agitation. Handsome? Beautiful? He was one of the most feared villains in Japan! This woman had no idea what she was talking about.
“Fuck off,” he said.
“There we go,” she said, “I’ll get those posters typed up and sent to you as soon as I can.”
“Great!” Hawks said.
“Just wait until I’ve got hold of him to open the door, okay?”
Fuck! This woman sucked.
She scooped him up whilst he swore at her, revealing his little present.
“Oh! We’ve got a little poo! Don’t worry little guy – it happens all the time,” she said.
Fuck you! That shit was done with malicious intent, and should be interpreted as such!
“See you later, Hawks!” She said, heading to the door, “Good luck!”
“Thanks!” he replied, waving, “I’ll see ya later!”
“I hope you fly into electrical wire, chicken shit!” Dabi yelled back.
Keigo had been canvasing the area where he’d found the little blue lovebird for hours – putting up posters, asking around, searching the area for any clues about where he could have come from, but hadn't found anything. The same went for his sidekicks. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. He scratched his head, looking around. They had a poster on almost every street, but no calls had come in yet. There wasn’t a whole lot else they could do; it was basically just a waiting game now. Unfortunately, according to the vet, they didn’t have much time before the bird needed to be moved somewhere that catered to his needs – something that was harder than Keigo would have assumed.
The receptionist hadn’t been able to find any available fosters and none of the ones at the vet were going to be able to go home for at least three days. He’d thought about putting out a call for a foster on his social media, but there was a non-zero chance that someone who wasn’t qualified to take care of the animal would respond just to have the chance of saying they’d helped Hawks.
He sighed, finishing off the last of his coffee. He was going to have to head back to the clinic now and figure out where they go from here. Maybe one of his sidekicks could take him? No, anyone willing to do that would have volunteered by now. Hawks shouldered his way into the clinic and nodded a greeting to the receptionist, who shot up from his chair to bow and then rushed off to fetch the vet. It was cute, but Keigo was pretty desensitized to it by now. It had been very flattering at first to realise he was the subject of so many starstruck crushes, but these days he spent most of his time hoping that they wouldn’t let it get in the way of his job. Not that he didn’t appreciate them, but he had so much to do. And besides, they had a crush on Pro Hero: Hawks, not Takami Keigo – it hadn’t seemed like a big distinction when he first debuted, but it had become more apparent as he matured.
“Hawks!” The vet greeted, “Follow me.”
He nodded and fell into step behind her as they went past the check-up room and into the back where there was a wall of crates with various animals resting inside. Mostly cats and dogs, though he saw a rabbit and two guinea pigs as well. And of course, a little blue lovebird.
“Here he is,” she said, getting out a key and putting it into the small padlock attached to his door. Keigo looked down the wall of crates.
“Why’s he got a lock?” He asked. None of the others did.
“He’s a smart one,” the vet said, “he’s managed to undo his latch twice since we put him in here.”
“Clever boy,” Keigo said, smiling down at the little parrot, who was currently clinging to the metal bars at the front of his crate and watching the vet unlock it with a knowing look in his eye.
He looked at Keigo and chirped, feathers fluffing. Cute.
He did that a lot. Fluffing his feathers up when Keigo approached. Trying to make himself bigger. More intimidating. It wasn’t unusual – a lot of birds did it when they saw him, though the majority did the opposite: flattened their feathers completely to make themselves look skinny, not worth hunting, and more aerodynamic in case he was hungry enough to try anyway. He was bigger than them after all, and tended to telegraph the kind of body language they would associate with raptors and humans, two of their most dangerous predators. He didn’t take it to heart. He was big and dangerous.
What was particularly cute about this parrot was that not only did he seem to know that, but he seemed to think he could hold his own against him. It was a bit like having a kitten hiss at you. He was one of the deadliest fighters in Japan, and this little blue puffball, smaller than a pomelo, was ready to square up at every opportunity.
“Come here, baby boy,” the vet said, reaching in to scoop him up.
The lovebird let out an angry squawk before doing quite an impressive roll to dodge and busting out of the crate in a flurry of feathers. A flurry of feathers which Keigo caught, hands snapping out to grab him mid-flight on reflex, eyes pinning as he felt the tiny, thundering heartbeat under his fingers. Prey. The lovebird turned to face him before letting out a furious screech, feathers puffing up before biting his gloves. Keigo smiled. He wasn’t actually going to eat him. But the raptor instincts brought a certain satisfaction from the catch.
“Good catch!” the vet said, staring at him with wide eyes.
Keigo shrugged, holding up the seething lovebird, “quick reflexes.”
“I can see that,” the vet said. “Come on – I’m going to let him fly around the check-up room for a bit so he can stretch his wings while we talk.”
Keigo nodded, cradling the small bird close to his chest as he followed her back the way they came. When the door shut behind them, he released his grip leaning back in preparation for a pissy parrot to flap off to a nice, tall, safe space to watch them from. But he didn’t move. Just sat in Keigo’s hands, feathers puffed up and letting out grumpy chitters. Fuck, he hadn’t injured him when he grabbed him, had he? He didn’t think he’d squeezed too hard, his raptor grip hadn’t kicked in, but still. Bird bones were brittle. He flung his hands up and the lovebird took off with a squawk before landing on the table. Okay, so he could still fly, Keigo sighed in relief.
The little bird turned around to glower at him.
“He has such cute chubby cheeks,” Keigo said.
The lovebird chittered again, before turning to start preening his feathers, which had gotten all mussed up when Keigo had grabbed him.
“They’re very cute birds,” the vet agreed, “and very affectionate and smart, it’s why people like keeping them as pets.”
“I’m guessing you haven’t heard anything from your fosters?” Keigo asked.
The vet sighed, “Unfortunately both of them got back to me, and neither can take on another bird at the moment.”
“Where does that leave him?”
“In a very tricky position,” the vet said, “I cannot in good conscience keep him in a crate. It's liable to cause health complications and behavioural issues. But at the moment there aren’t any other options opening up.”
“How difficult are they to care for?” Keigo asked.
“Moderate for a bird,” the vet said, “easier than a macaw, trickier than a chicken. The main thing is that they need a lot of enrichment – toys, playtime, free flight and, most importantly, other birds.”
“You said they were social,” Keigo observed, watching as the parrot twisted to groom under one wing, misjudged the movement and ended up toppling over onto his back with a squawk and rolling himself over to sit down and pretend nothing had happened. Silly thing.
“They’re some of the most social birds there are,” the vet said, “you almost can’t keep just one. You need to have other birds around for them to bond with, or you need to be very available yourself. It’s why they’re called ‘lovebirds’ they have such strong pair-bonds and spend so much time with their partners or flockmates.”
Keigo cocked his head, staring at the little bird. He was…lonely?
“I found him on his own,” he said but remembered how he'd been perched near some pigeons. Trying to find a flock, perhaps?
Keigo felt his feathers fluff up, something that had the lovebird fluffing up again himself and chittering again.
“It could be that he was the only bird that escaped.”
“Well, if one of the bird cages is going to be free in three days, do you think he could go that long without another bird around?” He asked.
The vet shrugged, “it depends on him, really. He’s displayed a lot of aggression so I’d be careful introducing him to another bird, but it might just be because he’s had such a stressful time.”
Keigo nodded, “What if I took him for those three days?” He asked.
The vet looked up at him in bewilderment, “You?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you ever kept birds before?” She asked.
“Only myself!” He said with a grin, “But if he needs somewhere to stay for three days and no one more qualified is available, I’m happy to try.”
“I mean, if you’re sure,” the vet said, “I can give you some information packets about providing for parrots, but you’ll have to buy him an enclosure, not to mention enrichment and food. It’s…not a cheap setup.”
Keigo shrugged, “That’s not a problem. I’ll get whatever he needs and donate it when he doesn’t need it anymore.”
“If you’re sure,” the vet said, reaching for a notepad and pen. “I’ll give you my number in case you run into any issues, and this is the address of a good pet supplies retailer – just tell them what he is and they’ll walk you through anything you need.”
“Great!” Keigo said, taking the piece of paper. He looked down at the small bird, “Guess you’re coming home with me!”
The bird puffed up his feathers before bonking his beak down on the table.
“Aw,” Keigo said.
“That’s a sign of aggression,” the vet explained.
“I think I’ll survive,” Keigo replied.
The lovebird squawked.