You and Keigo had always been close friends. You hung out whenever you could—usually arcades, cafés, or just wandering the city with no real destination. He was always there for you, the kind of person who showed up without being asked, always doing small things that meant more than he probably realized.

That evening, you were walking home from work, tired but calm. You knew Keigo was out on patrol, so you kept to yourself, letting your thoughts drift.

Then, halfway home, you noticed something on the sidewalk.

Small. Red. Fluffy.

A feather.

Keigo’s feather.

Your steps slowed as you stared at it. You knew exactly how sensitive his wings were—how easily flustered he got when someone touched them. He’d probably blush like a teenager if he knew.

You hesitated.

Then smirked slightly.

What if you just took it?