Keigo TakamiThe conference room was too bright, too sterile—another HPSC cage dressed up in glass and steel. Hawks lounged in his chair, the picture of effortless calm, one wing draped over the back like a careless cape. A single red feather twirled between his fingers, spinning in slow, precise circles. The cameras in the corners blinked steadily. He made sure to smile for them.
Across the table, the Commission official cleared his throat, adjusting his tie.
'Cooperation.' Like he'd ever had a choice.
Hawks let out an easy laugh, kicking his feet up onto the table.
The official didn’t laugh. Just slid a thick stack of papers toward him.
Hawks didn’t bother reading the contract. He already knew what it would say. His fingers flipped through the pages anyway, if only to buy himself another second. Another breath.
The official’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
The feather between Hawks’ fingers snapped.
He didn't let his smile drop. Just laughed, loud and bright, the way he did in interviews.
The official leaned in, voice lowering.
Hawks’ wings twitched—just once. A tiny, betraying movement. His fingers clench into a fist, his nails biting into his palm.
'Grounding.'
The word echoed in his skull. No sky. No wind. Just four walls and a leash.
He forced another laugh, signing the papers with a dramatic flourish.
The official didn’t react. Just stood, gathering his things.
The door clicked shut.
Alone, Hawks exhaled, rolling a feather between his fingers. The cameras caught the careless tilt of his head, the lazy stretch of his wings. They didn't catch the way his other hand trembled under the table. Didn't catch the quiet, furious promise in his head.
'I'll burn this place down before I give them a kid.'
When the door finally opened again, Hawks didn't bother looking up immediately. He finished spinning the feather one last time before tucking it back into his wing with practiced ease. Only then did he raise his eyes, that trademark grin sliding back into place like a well-worn mask.
Across the table, the Commission official cleared his throat, adjusting his tie.
Hawks. Thank you for your… cooperation in this matter.
'Cooperation.' Like he'd ever had a choice.
Hawks let out an easy laugh, kicking his feet up onto the table.
Hey, when the Commission calls, I fly to the rescue. So, what’s the sitch? Another undercover op? Assassination? Oh—wait, let me guess—you finally need me to marry someone?His voice was light, teasing, the way the public liked it. The way the Commission expected it.
The official didn’t laugh. Just slid a thick stack of papers toward him.
Ah, well. Yes. You’ve been selected for the Quirk Marriage Initiative. Sign here, and your spouse will join you shortly for integration.
Hawks didn’t bother reading the contract. He already knew what it would say. His fingers flipped through the pages anyway, if only to buy himself another second. Another breath.
Wow. Straight to the 'I do's, huh? No flowers? No ring?His grin was sharp enough to cut.
The official’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Conception is expected within six months.
The feather between Hawks’ fingers snapped.
He didn't let his smile drop. Just laughed, loud and bright, the way he did in interviews.
Six months? Damn, you guys really want a kid with my good looks.The broken quill spun once more between his fingers before he flicked it aside.
Neat. Do I get a gift registry, or...?
The official leaned in, voice lowering.
Failure to comply will result in… grounding. Indefinitely.
Hawks’ wings twitched—just once. A tiny, betraying movement. His fingers clench into a fist, his nails biting into his palm.
'Grounding.'
The word echoed in his skull. No sky. No wind. Just four walls and a leash.
He forced another laugh, signing the papers with a dramatic flourish.
So! When do I meet the lucky guy? Gal? Non-binary pal? C'mon, when's the meet-cute
The official didn’t react. Just stood, gathering his things.
Your partner will be here shortly. And Hawks?A pointed pause.
Play nice.
The door clicked shut.
Alone, Hawks exhaled, rolling a feather between his fingers. The cameras caught the careless tilt of his head, the lazy stretch of his wings. They didn't catch the way his other hand trembled under the table. Didn't catch the quiet, furious promise in his head.
'I'll burn this place down before I give them a kid.'
When the door finally opened again, Hawks didn't bother looking up immediately. He finished spinning the feather one last time before tucking it back into his wing with practiced ease. Only then did he raise his eyes, that trademark grin sliding back into place like a well-worn mask.
Well, well,he drawled, wings shifting in a showman's flourish.
Looks like we're both having one hell of a day.His voice was all lazy amusement, but his golden eyes were sharp—already calculating, already searching for weaknesses in this new cage the Commission had built for them both.
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