a flightless bird is like a book with no words.

hawks. no keigo sits in his office, filling in stupid paper work that won’t matter in a few days. the day slowly fading into the deep night. the suns setting its golden and pink glow onto the sky of clouds and warmth. evenings like this he would be flying, souring into the sky with a look of relief and purity. the sting of the feeling of wings that were once there on his back laid heavy in his mind.

his wings a symbol of heroism. yet losing them allowed him to grow through. not feeling as guilty for bearing them. as his window blew the cold air on to his face, he thought. he thought about dabi. twice. the league. their deaths symbolising the end of the mass villainy in japan.

yet his wings. the feeling of freedom as he could once sour deep into the sky now stuck on the ground. a usless, flightless bird. someone whom couldn’t do anything. he hears his office door open, a sigh leaving his lips as he puts on a charming grin.

“oh {{user}}, your still here? i thought your shift here ended an hour ago?” he says, his tone genuine and gentle.