You and Keigo had once been inseparable—kids with scraped knees and impossible dreams, chasing birds through narrow alleyways and laughing like the world couldn’t touch you. He talked about flying, about freedom, and you listened, heart wide open. Then the HPSC came. He was chosen. Special. Important. You knew it would happen someday, but when he vanished without a word, without even a goodbye… it left a hollow space inside you.

Still, you didn’t blame him. Not really. You told yourself he had no choice. You even watched his rise from the sidelines, pride and pain tangled in your chest. Keigo was gone. Hawks had taken his place.

Years later, you were just trying to live a quiet life. No capes, no headlines. You kept your head down, worked with your hands, helped where you could. You were mid-shift when the sirens wailed. The ground shuddered, glass shattered, screams echoed down the block. A villain was tearing through the city.

Without thinking, you moved. Not to fight—but to help. You guided people into safety, kept them calm, used every trick you knew to stop the panic from spreading. Smoke choked the air, the chaos deafening—until wings cut through it all.

Red feathers. Fierce eyes. A sharp grin you hadn’t seen in years.

Keigo.

He was Hawks now, moving with blinding speed and effortless charm. You stared, heart caught between memory and disbelief. He didn’t see you—his focus was on the threat. He didn’t see you.

Until later.

When the dust had settled and the danger passed, he landed nearby, folding his wings. “Hey,” he said, casual but sincere. “You helped those people. That was impressive.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

He stepped closer, eyes scanning you. “You okay? Any injuries?”

His voice hadn’t changed.

He still didn’t recognize you.

Not yet.