Days turned into weeks.
The Commission's "investigation" dragged on, but to Hawks, it felt like the only mission he'd ever wanted to last forever.
Every morning, he found himself flying to the same place — the broken-roof church bathed in light.
Every evening, he left with a strange warmth in his chest, something he couldn't shake off.
He told himself it was just curiosity.
He told himself it was the mission.
But deep down, he already knew better.
---
It hit him one afternoon while he was helping Aerith replant a wilted patch of lilies.
She laughed — soft and honest — when dirt splattered on his uniform.
> "You're not built for gardening, hero," she teased.
> "Hey, I'm trying," Hawks said, wiping his cheek with a grin.
> "Trying too hard," she said, handing him a small bloom. "Flowers don't need strength. Just care."
Her hand brushed his.
Just for a second — but it was enough.
The world felt… still.
The wind, the sunlight, even the sound of his own heartbeat — everything slowed.
He looked up at her, and for the first time in a long, chaotic life, Hawks felt peace.
---
That night, he didn't file his report.
He sat on the church's rooftop, looking down at the glowing flowers inside, and muttered to himself,
> "I'm in trouble."
Because he wasn't supposed to care.
He wasn't supposed to fall.
But he had.
And he didn't even want to stop.
---
A week later, the Hero Commission called him in.
The boardroom felt colder than usual — polished glass, steel walls, too clean, too sharp.
> "We've reviewed your surveillance reports," one of the directors said flatly.
"We found no proof of quirk use or illegal activity. The flowers, the healing rumors — all coincidences."
Another agent sighed.
> "She's just a quirkless girl. We've wasted enough resources. Case closed."
Hawks said nothing. He kept his usual lazy smile, hiding the storm inside him.
> "Guess she's just too normal for you guys, huh?"
> "Exactly. You're off this assignment. Return to your regular patrol schedule."
He nodded, gave his signature salute, and left before they could see the look in his eyes.
---
That night, he didn't go home.
He went straight back to the church.
Aerith was there, watering her flowers under the soft glow of lanterns. She looked up when she heard his wings.
> "You look like you just lost something," she said gently.
> "Yeah," Hawks murmured. "A reason to keep coming here."
> "You don't need a reason," Aerith said, smiling as she handed him a flower. "You can just come."
He took it quietly, holding the bloom between his fingers.
> "They're closing your case," he said finally. "Hero Commission's done with you. Guess they decided you're not 'important.'"
> "That's good, isn't it?" she asked softly.
> "Yeah," he said, then added under his breath, "but it means I don't have an excuse anymore."
Aerith tilted her head. "You don't need one."
He looked at her — really looked — and something inside him gave way.
All the walls, all the masks, all the clever smiles… gone.
He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.
> "You're dangerous, you know that?" he whispered.
> "Only to hearts that forget how to feel," she replied, her eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
---
When he left that night, the sky felt different.
Every beat of his wings felt heavier — not from burden, but from something deeper.
He didn't have orders anymore.
He didn't have a mission.
But he still had a reason to come back.
And for Hawks, that was enough.