When the Hero Commission gave Hawks his new directive, he almost laughed.
> "You'll be spending more time with the target," they said.
"Observe her in her natural environment. Gain her trust. Report any unusual activity."
They thought it was surveillance.
To him, it was freedom.
For the first time in years, he could slow down. No high-speed missions. No undercover stress.
Just… flowers, sunlight, and her.
---
The next morning, Aerith wasn't surprised when Hawks showed up at the church.
He didn't say why he was there — just that he was "off duty."
But she could tell. She always could.
> "They told you to watch me again, didn't they?" she asked gently, kneeling beside her flowerbed.
> "You make it sound creepy," Hawks joked, scratching the back of his head.
> "It's not," she said with a smile. "If it means you get to rest a little, I don't mind."
He blinked at her honesty. Most people would be uncomfortable knowing a hero was following them.
But Aerith wasn't "most people."
---
As the days passed, he started helping her around the church.
He patched the holes in the roof with his wings' feathers, careful not to disturb her plants.
He carried baskets of flowers for her into town.
And, sometimes, when no one else was around, they'd just sit in silence — her tending to her lilies, him lounging against the pews, half asleep.
The sound of her humming filled the air, gentle and steady.
It was the kind of peace Hawks didn't know he'd been missing.
---
> "You know," he said one afternoon, "I've been around a lot of people who call themselves heroes."
Aerith looked up, curious.
> "And?"
> "You don't have a license, a costume, or a quirk. But somehow… you might be the most heroic person I've met."
She laughed softly, shaking her head.
> "Oh no, I'm not a hero. I just try to help where I can."
> "That's what I mean," he said. "You help without asking for anything. No spotlight. No medals. Just kindness."
Her gaze softened.
> "And you fly without knowing how tired your wings are," she said quietly. "Maybe we both have something to learn."
---
In those quiet moments, Hawks began to notice little things.
The way flowers bloomed brighter when she touched them.
How his bruises faded faster after being near her.
How the air felt lighter around her, calmer, like the world itself sighed in relief when she smiled.
He didn't understand it — but he didn't need to.
All he knew was that when he was with her, the noise in his head went quiet.
---
One evening, as they walked back from the plaza, Aerith looked at him with that serene expression she always had.
> "You don't have to keep pretending, you know," she said.
"Pretending what?" he asked.
> "That you're here for a mission."
Hawks smirked, feigning surprise.
> "Wow, you really are psychic."
> "No," she said softly. "I just know what loneliness looks like."
He stopped walking. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, Hawks smiled — a real one, not his usual mask.
> "You're something else, you know that?"
> "I've been told," Aerith replied playfully, tucking a flower behind his ear. "Now stop pretending and help me carry these."
He laughed and did as he was told.
And for the first time in a long while, Hawks wasn't working for the Commission.
He was just living.