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A full year had passed since the night Kirio confronted Dabi in the street and then walked back through the apartment door. She still lived with Keigo. She still wore the hero costume the Commission had designed for her. She still woke up most mornings to the quiet sound of red feathers shifting in the next room. Touya’s azure eyes lived in the back of her mind every single day, but she was not ready to leave the life she had built. Not ready to burn the perfect hero world she shared with Keigo. Not yet.
August thirty-first arrived soft and warm. Her birthday.
Keigo had the apartment ready before she even finished her shower. String lights glowed along the ceiling. A small cake waited on the low table with one candle already lit. When she stepped into the living room in a simple tank top and shorts, he was already holding a folded bundle of soft fabric.
“Happy birthday, Blue Bird,” he said, voice low and fond. “One year older. Still the same stubborn wings.”
She took the gift. The moment she unfolded it, her breath caught. It was an oversized blue jay hoodie, exactly the shade of her feathers, deep blues layered with lighter ones and edged in clean white. The hood was large and rounded. The sleeves spread outward like open wings, each one patterned with careful feather layers that moved when she lifted her arms. At the bottom, longer tail feathers trailed softly. A dark ribbon sat at the front so she could tie it closed if she wanted. It was more cape than ordinary hoodie, made to wrap around her the way her own wings once had before they were clipped.
Kirio pulled it on. The fabric settled over her shoulders and hung past her hips, the wing sleeves draping almost to her knees. She looked down at herself and felt something tight in her chest loosen just a little.
Keigo watched her with quiet satisfaction. “Looks like it was made for you.”
“It was,” she answered, voice soft. “Thank you.”
He stepped closer and reached for the ribbon, tying it loosely at her collarbone so the hoodie stayed closed across her front. His fingers were careful. When he finished he left his hands resting lightly on her waist over the thick fabric.
“Dance with me?”
She nodded.
Keigo moved to the speaker and put on something slow and low, the kind of song that asked for no words. He drew her in until her cheek rested against his shoulder and the oversized wing sleeves brushed against his arms. One of his hands stayed at her waist. The other held her hand loosely against his chest. They swayed in small, unhurried circles across the living room floor.
The candle on the cake flickered. Outside the city kept moving, cars and voices and the distant thrum of hero work that never truly stopped. Inside the apartment none of it mattered. Kirio closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of him, warm skin and clean feathers. The hoodie kept her wrapped in blue and soft weight. Her clipped wings shifted once beneath the fabric and then settled.
She thought of azure flames and scarred hands and the boy who had once caught her when she fell from a tree branch. She thought of the League and the life she still was not ready to claim. She thought of the year she had spent choosing this apartment, this partner, this careful peace over the truth that still burned under her skin.
Keigo’s voice was quiet against her hair. “Whatever’s still waiting out there, it can wait one more night. Tonight you’re here.”
Kirio pressed closer, fingers curling into the back of his shirt. “I know. I’m still choosing this. For now.”
He hummed in answer and kept them moving, slow and steady. His red wings curved just enough to shelter them both without closing her in. The oversized blue jay hoodie swayed with every turn, wing sleeves and tail feathers brushing the air like they remembered how to fly.
They danced until the candle burned low and the music faded into silence. When they finally stopped, Keigo rested his forehead against hers. Seafoam blue met gold in the soft light.
“Happy birthday, my Blue Bird,” he whispered.
She stayed right there in his arms, wrapped in blue feathers that were not her own, and chose once more to remain.