The morning came bright and soft, sunlight spilling across Musutafu like a blessing.
Aerith tied her ribbon behind her hair, humming as she arranged her flowers.
She didn't know that Hawks had been awake since dawn — pacing, restless, nervous, though he'd never admit it.
He'd told himself this was just for the cover.
A simple lunch date to keep the Commission's suspicion quiet.
Nothing more.
But when he saw her waiting in the plaza — her basket full of blossoms, her smile gentle as spring — something inside him shifted.
He forgot the plan.
He forgot the Commission.
He only saw her.
---
> "You're early," Aerith said when he landed beside her, wings folding neatly.
> "I could say the same about you," he replied with that lazy grin — the one that always made people drop their guard.
But Aerith didn't.
She just smiled back, as if she saw through every layer of his charm.
> "Well, shall we?" she asked, offering him a small yellow flower.
He blinked.
> "What's this for?"
> "For luck," she said simply. "You look like you could use some."
He tucked the bloom into his jacket pocket, pretending it didn't make his heart beat faster.
---
They spent the morning wandering through Musutafu's quieter streets.
She showed him her favorite café — a tiny place with ivy crawling up the windows and mismatched chairs.
He ordered coffee, she ordered tea, and for once, there were no missions, no reports, no lies.
They just talked.
About flowers.
About skies.
About silly things that didn't matter — and yet somehow did.
Aerith laughed easily, her voice soft like petals brushing the wind.
Hawks found himself listening to the sound more than her words.
It had been a long time since he'd heard laughter that wasn't forced.
---
After lunch, they walked by the riverside.
Children ran past, throwing bread to ducks.
Aerith crouched down to help a little girl gather the petals that had fallen from her bouquet.
> "Here," she said gently. "Even broken flowers can be beautiful again."
Hawks watched from a few steps away, feeling something warm twist in his chest.
She wasn't just kind — she was good. The kind of good he'd only read about in old stories.
When she rejoined him, he said quietly,
> "You really have a way with people."
> "I just listen," she said. "Everyone's hurting in some way. You just have to give them a reason to smile."
He looked at her for a long moment.
> "And who listens to you?"
She blinked, surprised. Then smiled faintly.
> "Maybe you do."
That single line hit him harder than he expected.
---
By the time the sun began to set, they had forgotten all about the "cover."
They ended up back at her church, the air glowing gold through the ruined roof.
Hawks sat among the flowers, watching her tend to them.
> "You know," he said softly, "I think I forgot why I came today."
Aerith glanced at him over her shoulder.
> "Then it must've been a good day."
He laughed quietly.
> "Yeah. The best one I've had in a long time."
She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
> "You don't have to pretend with me, Hawk."
> "Who says I'm pretending?"
> "You always wear a mask," she said gently. "Not just the hero one. The one that hides your heart."
He went silent, caught between her honesty and her warmth.
And for once… he didn't have a comeback.
---
Later that night, back at his agency, Kenta called him through the comm line.
> "Yo, boss. How'd the 'fake date' go? Did she buy it?"
Hawks leaned back, staring out the window, the city lights reflecting in his eyes.
He touched the flower still in his pocket — its petals soft and bright.
> "Yeah," he said after a pause. "She bought it."
> "Nice! You're smooth as always."
But Hawks' smile faded.
> "Problem is," he murmured, almost to himself, "I think I did too."
He turned off the comm, wings spreading behind him as he looked toward the church in the distance.
For the first time in a long time, the great hero Hawks didn't feel like he was flying toward duty…
He was flying toward someone.