It started with one folder.
Now, there were three.
Kenta sat at Hawks' desk again, sorting through another pile of "totally not personal" files.
One was labeled Maintenance Fund, another Backyard Expansion, and the third—
> "...'Special Savings Project'? Oh, come on."
Kenta leaned back in his chair with an exasperated sigh.
> "At this point, I should start charging him for emotional labor."
Every "investment" Hawks made was just a little too personal.
A cozy house with a flower garden.
Furniture orders marked 'handmade, vintage style'.
And now… a note about "custom design consultation — jewelry."
> "Jewelry?" Kenta muttered, squinting at the paper. "Okay, what are you—"
Before he could dig deeper, the door opened and Hawks strolled in, wind ruffling his blond hair and feathers glittering with sunlight.
> "Yo, Kenta! Busy as ever?"
> "Define busy," Kenta said dryly, waving the paper in his hand. "You've got more secret investments than the Commission's black budget."
Hawks blinked innocently.
> "Really? Didn't notice."
> "Don't play dumb with me," Kenta shot back. "You're hiding something, boss."
> "Just financial security," Hawks replied with a smirk. "Nothing wrong with being responsible."
Kenta groaned.
> "You? Responsible? You literally nap through half the meetings."
Hawks chuckled, clearly enjoying this far too much.
> "You worry too much, Kenta. I'm just… setting things up for later."
> "Later as in…?"
> "Later," Hawks repeated, cryptic as ever, before stretching his wings and heading out again.
Kenta watched him leave, muttering,
> "He's up to something. I just know it."
---
Meanwhile, high above Musutafu, Hawks glided silently through the air — patrol route forgotten for a few moments as his sharp eyes caught something below.
A jewelry store.
Its window display gleamed with gold, diamonds, and quiet elegance.
Something drew him down — an impulse, maybe, or just instinct.
He landed softly outside, pretending to browse like any normal passerby. But when his gaze fell on a certain pair of rings — simple, beautiful, intertwined like fate — he stopped.
One for engagement.
One for a wedding.
He stared at them for a long time, a small, genuine smile curling his lips.
> "Perfect," he murmured.
Without a second thought, he stepped inside.
No hero discount. No Commission card.
He paid in full — from his own account, untraceable, quiet, private.
The jeweler boxed the rings carefully in soft velvet and handed them over. Hawks tucked the package into his jacket, heartbeat steady but warm.
He didn't know when he'd use them — not yet. But he knew who they were for.
Back at his office, he slipped the box into the bottom drawer of his desk, beneath stacks of reports and sealed folders. Hidden, but safe.
He ran a finger across the wood, smiling faintly.
> "Just another investment," he whispered to himself.
---
Hours later, Kenta returned to drop off more files. As he organized the desk, he noticed the drawer slightly ajar — and a faint glimmer of velvet inside.
> "...No way," he muttered, eyes narrowing.
He shut the drawer immediately, shaking his head in disbelief.
> "Investment plan, huh? Sure, boss. Real long-term investment you've got there."