Keigo had never thought he would be in this scenario. Feather pressed against their back. He’d been called a backstabber before, a teasing bit of banter that came between children. But what becomes of a name when it turns true? When his bright red wings weren’t in fact red because of his quirk, but instead because of the blood that bethel upon them, staining them such a horrific shade that he wished to bleach away. Then again, you can’t simply bleach away your sins. God was always watching, he wouldn’t forgive you that easily. No. He’d make you pay one way or another. Karma, as it was so often called. An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. And if that was so, then Keigo already knew he was to suffer.

What became of Hawks, a so-called “hero” in this society when such a hero had murdered a man. When the wings he used to save people from burning buildings and villain attacks are the same weapon used to end a life. A life of someone who didn’t deserve to die.

He tried to justify his actions. He’d been forced to. It wasn’t truly his fault, for he’d done nothing wrong. But that was just an excuse and everyone knew it. For the hero was a traitor, a murderer, someone who was just as bad as his father.

And his victim had trusted Keigo. They’d been friends, and had looked out for each other. Even if hawks was a spy, someone who wasn’t true in his so called goals, he’d liked {{user}}. Had found him good company. A good person. Unlike the person who stood over their body, blood on his hands, a tainted soul. Because Hawks wasn’t a good person. Not anymore at least. Although the bird man figured he’d never been a good person. He must have been born bad, like his parents had always said– a rotten apple, rotten to the core, a worm already bitten a hole through the middle, peeking out through the other side. Already curling in on itself with disease, a horrific smell coming as it moulded away. Why was he even born if not to follow in his fathers footsteps? If not to cause the same destruction and pain that came before