I sat on Hawks's couch, my knees pulled to my chest, my fingers digging into the fabric of my pants. My head was spinning, my thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and disbelief. The warmth of the room didn't reach me; I felt cold, exposed, like everything I thought I knew had been ripped away in an instant.

"Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you doing this for me?"

Hawks, who'd been leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of tea in his hands, froze. His golden eyes flicked to me, and for the first time since I'd met him, they didn't hold that lazy, carefree glint. Instead, they were serious. Almost... sad.

"Because," he said softly, setting the cup down and walking toward me. "It's the right thing to do. And... because I should've done it sooner."

I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. "What do you mean?"

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to figure out how to say something difficult. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by a nervousness that made my stomach churn. "Kid... your mom's name was Inko Midoriya, right?"

My breath caught. "Yeah," I said slowly. "What about her?"

"Well," Hawks began, sitting down across from me, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Her name wasn't always Midoriya. Before she got married, it was Inko Takami."

Takami. The name felt foreign on my tongue, like it didn't belong in my life. "I don't understand. What does that—"

"She's my mom too," Hawks said, cutting me off gently. "Or, she was. Before she left my dad. Before she had you."

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The world around me blurred, my thoughts crashing into each other like waves in a storm. "You're saying... we're... brothers?"

He nodded, his expression unreadable. "Half-brothers, yeah. Your mom and my dad split before you were born. She moved on, made a life for herself. Guess she didn't think there was much point in telling you about me."

I stared at him, my hands trembling. "You're lying," I said, though my voice lacked conviction. "She would've told me. She wouldn't—"

"She probably wanted to protect you," Hawks interrupted, his tone gentle but firm. "I don't blame her. My old man... he wasn't exactly a great guy. She left him for a reason, kid. And she wanted a fresh start—for both of you."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I clenched my fists, trying to hold them back. "You knew about me?" I asked, my voice cracking. "You knew and you just... left me? You didn't care?"

Hawks flinched, and for a moment, he looked... guilty. "It wasn't like that," he said quietly. "I didn't know about you until I was already in deep with the Hero Commission. By the time I put the pieces together, I told myself you were fine. You had a mom who loved you, and I thought... I thought I'd just mess things up if I showed up."

His words felt like a punch to the gut. "So, what? You're here now because you feel guilty? Because you should've done something but didn't?"

Hawks ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Yeah, kid. That's exactly why I'm here. Because I screwed up. Because I should've been there for you, and I wasn't. And now, I'm trying to make it right."

I didn't know what to say. Anger and hurt twisted in my chest, battling with something softer—something that wanted to believe him. But I couldn't. Not yet.

"You're my brother," I said, the words tasting strange and foreign. "And you just... didn't care?"

"I did care," Hawks said sharply, his voice firm. "I cared so much that it scared me. I didn't want to make things worse for you. But yeah, I messed up. I should've been there. And I'm sorry."

I looked away, my vision blurring with unshed tears. "I don't know if I can believe that."

Hawks didn't answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer. "I don't blame you, kid. I wouldn't trust me either. But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere. Whether you believe me or not... I'll keep proving it until you do."

The sincerity in his voice made my chest ache. I didn't know what to feel. I wanted to scream, to cry, to tell him he didn't get to just show up and play the big brother now. But another part of me—a small, desperate part—wanted to believe him. Wanted to lean into the safety he offered.

"You're really my brother?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Hawks smiled, a sad, wistful smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, kid. I am. And I'm sorry for not being there sooner."

The tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over. I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking. I didn't know what to do with this information—with this man who claimed to be my brother, who was apologizing for something I wasn't sure I could forgive.

But as I sat there, crying into my hands, I felt something shift. It wasn't trust, not yet. But it was a start.