There's a moment—

Right before everything goes wrong—

Where your brain just... stops arguing.

No more weighing options.

No more calculating outcomes.

Just—

Move.

Stain didn't move.

Overhaul didn't move.

The driver didn't stop.

So I did.

My hand shot forward, grabbing the wheel and yanking it hard to the side.

"—HEY—!"

The driver panicked.

The gun went off.

A deafening crack inside the cabin—

And then—

Pain.

Sharp.

Hot.

Immediate.

It slammed into my shoulder like a punch that didn't end, tearing through muscle and sending my arm jerking back involuntarily.

"...tch—"

Didn't matter.

Didn't have time to matter.

Because the truck swerved—

Hard.

Too hard.

Tires screamed.

The entire vehicle tilted—

And then—

Fire.

Blue.

Explosive.

Violent.

Dabi.

I didn't even see him properly—just the flash of flame as it collided with the side of the truck, heat surging through the metal, destabilizing everything that was already barely holding together.

And then—

Impact.

From the other side.

A force—

Brutal.

Precise.

Mirko.

The truck lifted.

Actually lifted.

For a fraction of a second, everything went weightless.

Then—

It flipped.

Metal screamed.

Glass shattered.

The world turned sideways—

Upside down—

Then—

Hawks moved.

I barely registered it.

One second I was still inside—

The next—

Gone.

Air.

Wind.

Speed.

My vision blurred for a split second as I was yanked free, the force of it pulling a sharp, pained breath from my lungs as my injured shoulder screamed in protest.

"...got you," Hawks muttered, grip firm but controlled as his wings snapped wide, catching the air instantly.

We shot upward.

Fast.

Faster than anything on the ground could follow in that moment.

Below us—

Chaos.

The truck crashed.

Hard.

Metal crumpling in on itself as it hit the ground, sliding, sparks flying, debris scattering across the street.

Flames licked along one side where Dabi's attack had hit, smoke rising quickly into the air.

Sirens.

Shouting.

Movement everywhere.

But up here?

For a brief second—

There was space.

Just wind and sky.

Hawks adjusted his grip slightly, one arm keeping me steady while his wings worked overtime to stabilize us after that kind of sudden lift.

"...okay," he said, a little breathless but still annoyingly composed, "that escalated."

I didn't answer immediately.

Because my shoulder—

Yeah.

That hurt.

A lot.

I glanced down at it briefly.

Blood.

Not great.

Not fatal.

Manageable.

"...you think," I muttered.

He huffed lightly.

"...you always this dramatic over coffee deliveries?"

"Yes."

"...figures."

Below, I could already see movement—villains regrouping, heroes closing in, police trying to regain control of a situation that had spiraled way past them.

And me?

Hanging in the air.

Bleeding.

In the arms of a pro hero I had called pigeon five minutes ago.

"...put me down," I said flatly.

Hawks glanced at me.

"...you just got shot."

"I noticed."

"You're welcome, by the way."

"I didn't say thank you."

"...wow."

I shifted slightly despite the pain, eyes already scanning the ground again.

"...I have things to do."

"Yeah," he said dryly, "like not bleeding out."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine."

"I've been worse."

He paused.

"...that doesn't make this better."

I didn't respond to that.

Like chaos had decided to line up for a moment just to prove a point.

The truck was wrecked—completely useless now, tipped on its side, metal bent and smoking where the flames had licked through it. Officers were already surrounding it, weapons drawn, shouting commands that no one really listened to.

And the driver—

He was alive.

Barely.

Dragged out of the wreckage, coughing, disoriented—

And directly in front of Stain.

"...yeah, that tracks," I muttered.

Because of course that's where this was going.

Stain stood over him, blade already in hand, posture calm in a way that didn't match the situation at all. The kind of stillness that meant the decision had already been made.

The driver saw it too.

I could tell by the way he froze.

By the way his hands shook as he tried to push himself back, scrambling against the ground like distance alone would save him.

It wouldn't.

"WAIT—!" one of the officers shouted, rushing forward. "DON'T—"

Too late.

Stain moved.

Fast.

Efficient.

A blur of motion—

Steel catching the light—

And then—

Feathers.

A sharp gust of red cut through the space between them, deflecting just enough, disrupting the angle, buying time without fully committing to a direct block.

Hawks had already shifted position, one wing extending slightly as he adjusted mid-air.

"Let's not do that," he called down, tone light but just a little too sharp underneath.

Stain didn't even look at him.

Didn't react beyond a slight shift of his stance.

Annoyed.

Not stopped.

On the other side, Mirko had already landed hard enough to crack pavement, launching forward toward another target without hesitation.

"Oi! Eyes up!" she snapped, engaging before anyone else could.

Further back, I caught a flash of blue—

Dabi.

And a smaller, faster movement weaving through the chaos—

Himiko Toga.

They weren't coordinating.

Not directly.

But they weren't interfering with each other either.

Just... moving.

Fighting.

Avoiding.

Surviving.

Typical.

The police were trying to regain control, shouting orders, splitting attention between the villains and the driver, who was now very much regretting every decision he'd made in the last hour.

And then—

Something shifted.

Subtle.

But noticeable.

Because one by one—

They looked up.

At me.

Hanging in the air.

Alive.

Conscious.

Not dead.

Not kidnapped.

Not lost.

Just—

There.

Stain paused first.

Just a fraction.

Enough to confirm.

Enough to register.

Then he straightened slightly, blade lowering just a bit.

Decision made.

Across the street, Dabi caught sight of me next.

Even from this distance, I could feel the shift—tension easing just enough, flames dying down instead of spreading further.

Toga followed.

Then—

Movement.

Not toward me.

Away.

"...yeah," I muttered quietly.

Because that was that.

The purpose?

Done.

They had seen what they needed to see.

I was fine.

Which meant—

They were leaving.

One by one.

Not all at once.

Not in a way that made it obvious.

But if you knew what to look for—

You saw it.

Stain stepped back first, disappearing into the chaos like he had never been there to begin with.

Dabi followed soon after, flames flaring just enough to obscure his exit before vanishing into the streets.

Toga slipped through a gap no one else noticed.

Gone.

Even Kai Chisaki and his subordinate withdrew, controlled and precise, leaving no unnecessary trace behind.

And the heroes?

They noticed.

Too late.

"Don't let them—!"

"After them—!"

Mirko launched first, chasing the nearest target without hesitation.

Hawks shifted slightly in the air, clearly debating before moving as well—feathers already scattering, tracking, following.

Police split up.

Shouting.

Running.

Trying to contain something that had already slipped through their fingers.

I watched it all.

Calm.

Detached.

Because—

"They'll get away," I said flatly.

Hawks glanced at me mid-flight.

"...you sound very sure."

"I am."

Because this?

This wasn't a loss for them.

Not really.

They hadn't come here to fight.

They hadn't come here to win.

They had come—

For me.

To check.

To intervene.

To make sure.

And now?

That objective was complete.

So of course they were leaving.

Because staying?

Would've been the mistake.

I shifted slightly, ignoring the dull throb in my shoulder as my gaze dropped back to the wreckage.

To the driver.

Still alive.

Still breathing.

"...unfortunate," I muttered.

Hawks raised an eyebrow.

"...you're not even going to pretend that was concern."

"I don't have to."

"...fair."

Below us, the chaos was settling into something more manageable.

Controlled.

Contained.

But not resolved.

Not really.

Because something had changed.

Something small.

Something quiet.

But important.

And I could already feel it.

"...this is going to be annoying," I sighed.