Kenta had one goal today:
Don't find anything new.
No folders.
No "investment plans."
No suspicious "future paperwork" involving flowers, houses, or Aerith Gainsborough.
Just a quiet morning sorting patrol reports.
Easy. Peaceful.
Normal.
Or so he thought.
The calm lasted a grand total of five minutes before he accidentally tugged open Hawks' bottom desk drawer—
and froze.
Inside were two new folders.
Neatly labeled in that same tidy, cocky handwriting.
One was blue.
The other, pink.
And both were titled:
> "Future Planning."
Kenta's eye twitched.
> "Oh no. No. No way. He didn't—"
He grabbed the blue one first.
Inside were checklists. Real checklists.
"Room color ideas."
"Kid-friendly flight harness designs."
"School recommendations near Musutafu."
He slammed it shut before his brain melted.
Then, against all better judgment, he opened the pink one.
Tiny sketches of flowers.
Baby blankets.
Names scribbled in the margins: "If girl — maybe Aeris Jr.? Nah too much. Maybe Hana?"
Kenta's jaw dropped.
> "He's naming imaginary kids now—oh my god, he's lost it."
Just then, the door swung open.
Hawks walked in with his usual lazy grin, feather jacket ruffling slightly.
> "Morning, Kenta! You look like you found something fun."
Kenta held up both folders like evidence at a crime scene.
> "Fun?! Boss, these are blue and pink folders! Do I even want to know what this is!?"
Hawks leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.
> "Future investments."
> "Stop calling everything that!" Kenta exploded. "These aren't investments! These are baby plans!"
Hawks chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of his assistant's meltdown.
> "Relax, they're just ideas. You stress too much."
> "Because my boss is writing nursery blueprints in his free time!"
> "Hey, good planning never hurt anyone."
Kenta stared at him in disbelief.
> "You… actually think about this stuff?"
For a split second, Hawks' smirk softened.
He glanced out the window, sunlight catching the edges of his feathers.
> "Sometimes," he said quietly. "When you find someone who makes the world feel… peaceful, you start imagining what it'd be like if that peace lasted."
Kenta blinked.
That was—unexpectedly sincere.
Too sincere.
Then Hawks turned back with his usual grin.
> "Also, you should've seen your face. Worth it."
Kenta groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
> "You're unbelievable. I'm not your emotional punching bag for these rom-com stunts."
Hawks chuckled as he strolled past.
> "C'mon, Kenta. You've gotta admit, I'm making your workdays interesting."
> "Interesting isn't the word I'd use," Kenta muttered.
As Hawks flew out the window for patrol, a single feather drifted down, landing on the pink folder.
Kenta stared at it, sighing deeply.
> "Blue and pink… He's really lost it this time."
He shook his head, muttering under his breath,
"And the worst part? I think he's serious."