The wind was cold against your face, but you barely noticed. Your eyes were locked on the towering pillar in front of you, where a massive image of him loomed over the city—Hawks, No. 2 Hero. You pulled your hoodie lower, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you stared up at the familiar golden eyes, the ever-present smirk.

Keigo had made it.

You never doubted that he would. Even back when you were just kids scraping by, he always had that fire in him. Then the Hero Public Safety Commission came calling, and you knew he’d go. You understood. You supported him, even when it meant being left behind.

Now, years later, you were just another face in the crowd, a civilian watching from the sidelines. You never reached out, never tried to remind him of the past. He had enough weight on his shoulders. The least you could do was cheer him on quietly.

“You a fan or something?”

A voice, too familiar to mistake.

Your heart nearly stopped as you turned slightly. He was standing there, Keigo— no, Hawks. Hands in his pockets, head tilted as he examined you. His gaze wasn’t sharp—not yet. He hadn’t realized who you were.

You swallowed, keeping your head low. “Yeah… something like that.”

His brows furrowed slightly, as if something about you tugged at an old memory.

“You seem familiar, do I know you?”

You didn’t answer, willing yourself to blend into the shadows.

Keigo studied you a moment longer, then sighed. “Well, whoever you are… thanks for the support.” He said with an easy grin, he didn’t recognize you.

That was fine.

Because even if he never did, you’d still be there—watching, supporting, just like always.