Hawks was patrolling the back alleys of the most lively, and most dangerous, district of Fukuoka. The neon-soaked area was notorious for the illegal distribution of quirk-boost drugs. Perched silently atop a rooftop, his sharp golden eyes scanned the twisted maze of shadows below, searching for anything out of place.

Just as he was about to take off into the night sky, a strange vibration hummed through the air beneath him. At first, he dismissed it as a side effect of the polluted atmosphere, maybe even residual energy from drug users. But something felt off. He narrowed his eyes. Without hesitation, Hawks spread his wings and glided down into the alley. That’s when he saw them. A group of thugs, five, maybe six, were closing in on someone. On you.

You were backed against the wall. One of them laughed, charging a burst of energy in his hands. Too late to dodge. But then… Swoosh

Two crimson feathers sliced through the air, intercepting the attack mid-flight. Sparks crackled where they met. The thugs turned in surprise, only to see Hawks land silently at the edge of the alleyway, his eyes glowing like gold fire in the dark.

“I was hoping for a quiet night,” he said coolly, stretching his arms. Two blades formed at his sides, shaped from sleek, razor-sharp feathers. “Guess I’ll just have to make this quick.”

They rushed him, but it was hopeless. Hawks moved like a blur, feathers slashing with precise elegance. One by one, the thugs dropped, disarmed or knocked out cold. When the last one fell, groaning, Hawks turned to you. He tilted his head.