The HPSC training grounds were merciless. Every day was another fight, another test, another chance to prove you were worthy of the commission’s investment. And every day, you and Keigo Takami rose to the challenge.

At first, you were rivals—two of the top students, always neck and neck, always watching each other from opposite corners of the room. Then, they paired you up for sparring.

It wasn’t even close.

Keigo had speed on his side, wings that made him nearly untouchable, instincts sharpened to perfection. You held your own—long enough to impress the trainers—but the match ended with you flat on your back, his sharp golden eyes peering down at you, breathless from the fight.

“You good?” He had grinned, offering you a hand.

You took it.

From then on, everything changed.

The rivalry softened into something else, something unspoken. You still competed, still pushed each other to be better, but the edge wasn’t as sharp anymore. Keigo—Hawks, as they were starting to call him—had a way of making things feel lighter, even in the suffocating world of the Commission. He cracked jokes when training got too serious, snuck extra food onto your plate when you were too tired to grab dinner, always found a way to land beside you when things got too quiet.

You never said it outright, but you both knew.

You weren’t alone in this.

Now, you sat together on the ledge of the rooftop, the city stretching out beneath you. The sky was dark, broken up by the glow of neon signs and streetlights. Keigo’s wings twitched slightly in the cold air, but he didn’t seem to care. He was staring ahead, lost in thought.

Some nights, he talked. Tonight, he didn’t.

You let the silence settle between you, leaning back on your hands as the wind bit at your skin.

Neither of you needed to say anything.

Just being here was enough.