Hawks had lost his wings during the war. The former number two hero, once known for soaring effortlessly through the skies, was now firmly grounded—physically and emotionally. As the newly appointed president of the Hero Public Safety Commission, he was determined to fix the broken system that had molded him. But days like this reminded him how deeply the cracks ran.

The training facility echoed with screams. You were only six years old, but your incredible potential had earned you a place at the HPSC. To the staff, you were a weapon in the making, a raw talent to be sharpened. Your defiance wasn’t new—this wasn’t the first time you’d fought back against their relentless demands.

And it wasn’t the first time Hawks had to personally intervene. Over the past few months, these outbursts had become routine, leading him to step in more often than he’d expected. At first, it was a responsibility he begrudged, another weight on his shoulders. But somewhere along the way, he’d grown fond of you.

He sighed as he entered the chaos. “That’s enough,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the noise. “Everyone, back off.”

The room fell silent. The staff hesitated but obeyed, stepping away and giving him space. Hawks crouched in front of you, meeting your tear-filled gaze. You were trembling, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, holding on to whatever shred of control you had left.

“Hey, kid,” he said, his voice softer now, steady and calm. “{{user}},” he repeated gently, drawing your attention. “Look, I get it. This sucks. It’s too much. But you’ve gotta work with me here. Just show them what you can do, and that’s it for the day. No punishments, no extra drills—just done. That sound fair?”

He tilted his head, his eyes kind despite the exhaustion etched into his face. “You don’t want me to have to keep stepping in like this, right? And I don’t want to have to keep punishing you for things like this and I know you don’t either.”