Kenta had imagined this day a dozen times.
Maybe she'd be quiet. Maybe shy. Or maybe one of those polite, too-perfect civilians who smiled because she didn't know how to say no to a pro hero's attention.
But none of those guesses even came close.
When Hawks introduced them, standing in front of that abandoned church turned blooming garden, Kenta finally met Aerith Gainsborough.
And the first thing he noticed wasn't her beauty — though that was impossible to miss — it was the warmth she carried in her smile.
> "You must be Kenta," she said, hands clasped gently before her, her voice soft and musical. "Keigo's told me a lot about you."
Kenta blinked.
> "He… has?"
> "Mostly good things," she added with a teasing grin.
Behind her, Hawks coughed into his fist.
> "Hey now, don't ruin my reputation before he even likes you."
Kenta chuckled despite himself.
> "Too late for that, boss. She's already too nice for you."
Aerith laughed — really laughed — and somehow the sound made the whole place feel lighter. Even the flowers seemed to sway along.
> "You help him with all his work?" she asked curiously.
> "Work, paperwork, cover stories, fake PR campaigns, emotional damage…" Kenta sighed dramatically. "Basically, I'm the reason he still has a clean public record."
Aerith giggled behind her hand.
> "That sounds like a full-time job."
> "You have no idea," Kenta muttered.
---
They spent the next hour talking while Hawks trimmed some overgrown vines along the fence. Aerith spoke about her flowers — how each one had a different meaning, how they grew stronger when tended with kindness.
And when she smiled down at the little patch of white lilies, Kenta suddenly understood.
She wasn't just beautiful — she was peaceful.
The kind of peace Hawks hadn't had in years.
---
Later that afternoon, back at the agency, Kenta dropped his notes onto the desk and sighed.
> "Now I get it," he muttered.
Then his eyes drifted to something sitting at the corner of Hawks' workspace — that familiar small, velvet box.
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
> "You've got to be kidding me. It's still here."
The office door swung open and Hawks strolled in, humming like a man who'd just won the lottery.
> "So, what'd you think?" Hawks asked, leaning casually against the desk.
> "She's… something else," Kenta admitted, slumping into his chair. "Honestly, I don't even blame you anymore."
> "Told you."
> "But you," Kenta continued, pointing at the velvet box, "need to stop leaving that out in plain sight."
Hawks glanced at it, completely unbothered.
> "Why? It's just part of my investment portfolio."
> "Stop calling it that!" Kenta groaned. "She doesn't even know yet, does she?"
Hawks smiled, his wings twitching slightly.
> "Not yet. But someday."
Kenta leaned back, shaking his head.
> "I swear, when you finally pop the question, I'm going to need a week off just to recover from the secondhand stress."
> "You'll live," Hawks said, grinning. "And you're definitely invited."
> "Yeah, right," Kenta muttered. "I'll be the poor guy running the logistics behind your 'investment ceremony.'"
Hawks just laughed, heading for the window again.
As his wings flared and he lifted into the air, Kenta called after him:
> "You're impossible, boss!"
Hawks' voice floated back, light and teasing:
> "And you love it!"
Kenta stared at the now-quiet office, then at the velvet box gleaming softly under the sunlight.
> "You know what?" he murmured. "Maybe I kinda do."