"It’s not weird," Keigo snorts, though he knows it's a bold-faced lie. He puffs up, unsure who he's trying to convince.

Deep down, he knows it's definitely more than a bit odd for a grown man to scatter knick-knacks all over his friend’s apartment. Or to groom your hair with his fingers after flicking water on it. Or to hum around you, almost breaking into song like some showbird. Or to subtly nudge his wings into your hands, as if silently urging you to groom him. Or to constantly bring you takeout, as if to feed you. Or to leave his feathers on your pillow, like some odd avian ward against intruders.

He can explain.

He’s having urges. Normal ones, really. The ones that make him want to show off in front of you. Or discreetly dispose of a jacket some careless coworker left at your place, because that wasn’t their space; Keigo was there first, after all.

So what if it's a little weird? And yes, the fact that sometimes one of his feathers follows you around might be a bit creepy. But he’s just being a good friend! If you get into trouble, he’d know quicker! It’s like having an adult child safety app.

It happens so naturally, so instinctively, that Keigo doesn’t even think about it. It’s a Quirk thing, surely. Even if he’s explored every facet of his Quirk, and this one is new to him.

Maybe he should’ve realized sooner. But now you’ve noticed, and he hasn't thought of an excuse yet. Lying is always too much trouble.

“I just don’t like—” Keigo starts, feeling a bit unhinged. He throws you a greasy grin, refusing to give in to awkwardness.

It’s only when he suddenly becomes aware of how meticulously he’s arranging your clothes and blankets on the couch in a very specific manner that he realizes what he’s doing. A nest. He’s building a nest. God. Keigo drops the sweater he’s holding. He also stops his subconscious humming.