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Megumi Fushiguro’s wings are matted and dirty. They’re folded tightly to his back, smashed under an aged backpack held together by silver duct tape and hope. The very tips of crumpled primaries twitch where they poke out from under the kid’s oversized coat. Satoru, standing over the boy, peering down his nose at him, feels something akin to desperation at the sorry state of his feathers.
“When was the last time you were bathed?” The question is layered with many more that Satoru would like to volley at the chick. He holds his tongue,a decision that was well made, the boy flinches back, just slightly and glares up at Satoru warily. The disarray of his wings extends to his hair, and down into his pale face, smeared with exhaustion and hunger.
Satoru crouches, making sure his feathers don’t threaten the chick in any way. “I want to help you, okay?”
Megumi clicks low in his throat, a defensive sound that usually requires a more mature throat to make. It makes Satoru feel a little feral, upset that the little bird has been hurt enough that he had to develop it long before he should.
“Don’ need help,” Megumi says.
“I’m prone to disagree, kid. I’ve seen your ‘nest’.”
This admittance that Satoru knows where the chick beds down at night makes him even more defensive. He takes a step back from Satoru, distrust flaring across his face. Satoru sighs rubbing at the bridge of his nose.
“You can’t sleep in a refrigerator box forever. That’s not healthy.”
Green eyes narrow dangerously, “Why do you care?”
Satoru shrugs. “I’m not a beast. I see a little chick starving to death behind my favorite bakery, I feel a little pity.”
Another few steps back. “I’m not go’in to the orphanage! I’m not!”
“Hey, no.” Satoru soothes, holding up his hands. “I’d have to go to some people who work with the orphanage to help me out with you, but you’d come to my nest.”
Megumi blinks at him, reaching up he buries untamed talons into his ratty shirt. “Your nest?”
“Mhm. My nest. Just for a little while until you decide what you want to do. But winter is coming little one, the nights are cold.” Satoru isn’t one to beg anyone for anything. But in the face of this scared and stubborn child, he does. “Please? Let me help you.”
“No.”
Fuck. Satoru sighs again. He reaches into his pockets and pulls out his last card. Food. He offers the warm gua bao to the chick. It steams in the cold air and Megumi’s pupils flare. The chick snatches it from his hand, shoving it in his mouth, a wing fights its way out from behind his backpack to cover Megumi as he scarfs the food down.
“Listen, you don’t have to stay with me, but why don’t you come back and we can have dinner? I promise I won’t even talk to you or anything.”
Megumi peers at him between his feathers. “Dinner?”
“Yup. Dinner.”
“More buns?”
Satoru laughs softly, “Sure kid.”
The wing drops, drooping onto the ground. Satoru winces. He hates it when his feathers touch the ground, if he didn’t fear for his eyes he’d scoop the chick up and drop him on his shoulder. Instead he stands slowly and turns pointedly away, stuffing his hands into his pockets Satoru stretches out his wings casually and starts towards the road. He hears Megumi patter after him not long after.
The chick first came into Satoru’s realm of awareness six months ago. It had been an accident if fighting the chick’s biological father in an illegal fighting ring could be considered an accident. The vulture had nearly killed Satoru, damaged his wings so severely Satoru still has to attend physical therapy every few weeks and the prospects of him being able to fly again are low. But in the midst of nearly bleeding out and holding the expiring body of the vulture, the man had chosen to mention a chick he’d abandoned somewhere in the city.
Satoru had gone looking as soon as he could, dragging Suguru out into back alleys and quiet parks searching for any glimpse of tiny vulture wings. Two months and nothing but frustration and Satoru was walking home from therapy, grumbly and exhausted, when he caught a glimpse of a little boy darting behind a sour smelling dumpster. There’s still a scar on Satoru’s left wrist from where Megumi had scratched him upon their first official meeting.
It feels like walking on eggshells as Satoru eases his way home now, the fruit of six months of strenuous attempts to befriend the feral child, finally coming to fruition. He texts Suguru as he swipes his key card to his apartment complex and casually leans his hip against the glass door until the little boy hesitates inside. Suguru sends him back a series of exclamation points and asks if Satoru wants him to come over.
“Good evening Mr. Gojo,” the doorman, a short man with bright blue cardinal feathers, says. He’s looking at Megumi with vague surprise. “Will anyone else be joining you tonight?”
Satoru puts his hand on Megumi’s backpack, gently steering him towards the elevators. “Hey, and nope. This is it.”
The doorman nods and they go on their way. Megumi shoves himself into the corner of the elevator staring owlishly at the shining panels and glowing buttons. Satoru points to the button for the fourteenth floor.
“Wanna press it?”
Megumi jerks back, then bobs forward, shuffling over. Satoru steps back, offering him ample room to push up onto the tips of his toes and press the button. He stumbles when the elevator starts to move and Satoru reaches out to steady him. The chick puffs up and moves away again shoving himself back into his claimed corner. Satoru faces the door.
The apartment Satoru lives in is large, far larger than it needs to be. For one person it feels cavernous. Everything has modern lines and dark marble. But his couches are all worn comfortable and the perch in his bedroom is hewn from pine, a present from Suguru’s dad, and he far prefers it to the more aesthetically matching one in the living room.
Satoru stretches fully when he steps past the door, kicking off his shoes and rubbing a hand up into his hair.
“You can take your shoes off,” Satoru says, turning to look at Megumi who’s paused in the door, hands gripping tight to his backpack straps. “Or you don’t have to. I don’t really care.”
He leaves the chick to ponder over the choice, keeps half an eye on him, and wanders into the kitchen. Satoru is pretty sure he restocked his fridge, or Suguru did, or anyone else who is better at taking care of Satoru than Satoru is, did. Satoru observes his shelves, going back and forth between making something fresh or reheating the fish and rice he stared at for dinner the night before. When the front door closes Satoru takes out the leftovers and peers towards the living room to see if Megumi has fled. But the chick is there, bare feet silent on the floors. Satoru puts the containers in the microwave and approaches him.
“Do your feet hurt?”
Blisters and bruises litter the chick's tiny feet. His talons have overgrown and curve dangerously down towards his toes. Socks might be a foreign concept to him.
“A lil,” Megumi whispers.
Standing, Satoru points to his fluffiest couch, adorned with soft blankets and pillows. “Why don’t you go sit over there and I’ll find a bandaid.”
The chick has obeyed him when Satoru returns from the master bathroom a box of Sanrio band aids and neosporin clutched in his hands. Megumi is tiny, but dwarfed by creams and light browns, he looks like little more than a smudge of street grime on Satoru’s couch.
“How old are you, Megumi?” Satoru asks as he examines the chick's feet. He feels slightly nauseous just looking at them. He should have brought a warm washcloth to clean them up a bit before he attempted to put on any type of medication. But he didn’t, so they’ll make do.
“Mn. Five and a half.”
Jesus Christ on a stick burning in a goddamned fire.
“Wow. You’re a baby.” Satoru lays a green Keroppi onto a large blister.
“No.” Megumi is scowling at him when Satoru glances up. “M’not a baby.”
“You’re not even six, buddy. You’re little .”
It's truly devastating how young Megumi Fushiguro is.
Satoru expects the chick to fight back a little harder, but his eyelids droop with the long, burdened sigh he releases. Satoru grins at him, pats his knee and sets aside the medical supplies.
“I know you don’t trust me very much, but I swear I’m not going to steal your things. You can take off your bag.”
More suspicious eyeing, but it’s lost most of its effect as Megumi attempts to fight sleep.
“Why?”
Flaring his wings up and out Satoru flexes them, reaches into the left one and rights a croaked secondary covert. “Wings were meant to fly, Megumi. And when you can’t fly, they’re meant to move.”
Megumi blinks at Satoru’s wings, he reaches out for one, looking determined to stroke one of the silky white feathers, but then the microwave blares, reminding them of dinner. Satoru drops his wings and steps aside to give Megumi a perfect view of the island in the kitchen that doubles as Satoru’s dining table. The chick wobbles to his feet and to Satoru’s relief, wriggles not just his backpack from his shoulders and onto the floor, but also his coat.
When the chick walks past Satoru, he gets a good look at his wings. Still in a disastrous state, perhaps made worse by shifting clothes, but not the shape Satoru was expecting at all. Toji’s wings were unmistakable vulture in nature, it was the defining feature that Satoru had been seeking while looking for Megumi, but the boy’s wings aren’t vulture. They’re too dark. Too blue and purple when the light hits them just right. Raven, or crow. His mother must have been a raven, Satoru thinks dully as he pulls out a chair for Megumi and lays out a plate for him.
The chick eats with gusto and Satoru nibbles on milk bread he’d stumbled across as he dug through his pantry in search of something a child would enjoy drinking. He refills Megumi’s plate when the food wanes and the chick squirms, unwilling to ask for seconds. It’s pitiful, and sad, and makes the blood stained permanently under Satoru’s talons feel worth it.
“You’re rich,” Megumi says suddenly. It sounds like an accusation. His eyes glint at Satoru, fork clutched in his tiny palm like he’s afraid it’s going to run away from him.
Satoru hums in the back of his throat. “Yup.”
“How?”
“I worked hard and got a lot of money.”
Megumi wrinkles his nose in displeasure at the answer. “Are you mathia?”
“Mafia?” Satoru quirks an eyebrow at the chick. “Do I look like a gangster?”
Megumi considers him very carefully, tilting his head one way, then the other. “No.”
Satoru feels oddly insulted but he sniffs and stuffs the rest of the bread into his mouth. “Well there you have it. Not mafia.”
“What then?” Megumi has fish and rice clinging to his chin. Eyes wide and intelligent.
“I won some award money.” Satoru hedges. “A lot of award money.”
The chick places his fork down gently. “You said you worked hard.”
“I did,” Satoru laughs. “Trust me I put in a lot of work for it. In some round about way.”
Megumi looks around the kitchen again. “What’s that?” He points to the remaining milk bread.
Satoru smiles and slides it across the counter.
He had expected a fight, or at least a denial, when Satoru asks Megumi if he’d sleep on the couch. The chick, sagging where he stands on the seam between carpet and hardwood, clicks softly in the back of his throat, practically floats towards the couch and collapses onto it. Satoru stares at him then hurries to the linen closet at the end of the hall where he stashes all the blankets he’s received as gifts and frankly hates. The textures are wrong against his skin, too soft, too fuzzy, ect., ect. But he’s grateful to have them as he grabs an armful, scrounges around for a nest liner, and returns to Megumi’s curled form. The fight does come when Satoru coaxes the chick up just so he can throw together a messy nest. Satoru wants to tuck him into his chest, support him as he works to ensure Megumi that he’s not taking him from his spot, but the chick flees to the other side of the couch.
“If you need to go to the bathroom anytime tonight it’s down there.” Satoru points to the little hall across the way that leads to the guest bedroom and bathroom. “You can turn on any lights you need.”
Megumi says nothing. Satoru stuffs the edges of the nest liner with smaller throws and layers the bottom with a couple of fluffy blankets. He sits back on his heels when it’s done, turning to look at Megumi.
“All yours kid. Do you need anything before I hit the hay?”
“No.”
Satoru nods and heaves himself to his feet. He catches his left wing in his hand and combs his fingers absentmindedly through a few messed secondaries. Megumi shuffles into the nest and pulls one of his own messy little wings into his lap, inspecting it like he’s never seen it before.
“If you want,” Satoru says softly, “I can help you preen your feathers.”
Megumi’s eyes flit between Satoru’s wing and his own. “Does it hurt?”
“Not at all. It feels nice.” If it’s done correctly and nothing is holding you down until all you can do is hyperventilate against the table as your feathers are ripped out. Satoru does not say this though, because aside from a few terrible experiences with forced preenings, he also has wonderful memories of Shoko and Suguru carding their hands through his wings. Setting things right, and gently pulling out anything that might be damaged. Everyone should know what that feels like once in their lifetimes, especially chicks.
“I…am tired.” Megumi admits this dully to the wing cradled in his lap. “But I think I would like to try that.”
“Sure kid. Doesn’t have to be tonight.” Satoru reaches out hesitantly and awkwardly pats Megumi’s spikey head. Yeah. A shower is in order. Just. Later. Satoru is tired too. Megumi freezes under Satoru’s touch, drawing his head comically into his shoulders. Satoru laughs, “You’re a bird, not a turtle.”
Megumi bats him away, scowling, burrowing deep into his little spot. Satoru takes that as his que to leave the kid alone.
He leaves the light above the stove on before he retreats to his room.
“So you managed to get him to follow you?”
Suguru’s voice is a balm after a long week and long day. Satoru is curled in his nest, too big for a single person even with his wingspan, phone pressed up to his ear. Megumi has been tucked into the soft couch within sight of Satoru’s open door in the event that the chick should need or want anything in the middle of the night. Satoru is positive Megumi would rather die than ask him for anything.
“Yeah,” Satoru says quietly, eyes slipping shut, focusing on the sound of Suguru’s breathing. For a fucked up moment it almost feels like he’s back in the cell in the basement of The CUBE curled against Suguru, asleep and as safe as he was going to be. His therapist would disapprove of him finding comfort in the memory.
Suguru laughs softly. “You’re a miracle worker, Satoru. I swear.”
“Nah, the kid was starving. I knew food would get him to trust me for a little while.”
“A little while, what happens next, Satoru?”
Groaning quietly, Satoru turns his face into his pillow, kicking one wing up to the high ceiling. They ache tonight, probably from the cold. Old wounds making themselves known as the sidewalks freeze and the weather threatens snow.
“I might have promised him that I wouldn’t take him to an orphanage.”
Suguru is silent on the other line before letting out a long sigh that sounds like a smile. “Oh Satoru.”
“Oh so you can have two little kids but I can’t?”
“Satoru you forget to feed yourself , how are you going to feed a whole other person?”
“It's.” Satoru swallows, bites at the inside of his mouth. “It's easier to take care of someone else sometimes. He isn’t going to trust anyone but me right now, hell he doesn’t even trust me! I’m half expecting him to be gone by morning. And nothing is set in stone, I can’t keep him here against his will.”
“I know, hey, Satoru. I know. How are you? I feel like we haven’t seen each other in a long time.”
“Two weeks,” Satoru mumbles. “That’s too long.”
Suguru laughs again, “I know. I miss you too. I’ll come back to the city if you need me to.”
“No. No, you need to be with your girls. I can’t take that from you.”
“Satoru.” Suguru’s voice gets low, gentle, with a little chiding. “You don’t ever take anything from me.”
“Hm. That’s sweet of you to say.”
“I mean it, Satoru. Are you hurting tonight?”
Rolling fully into his back, Satoru glares at the ceiling. “I’m fine. How are you, how goes the flying?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“I know you can’t help but you talk about me, but I hate being the subject.”
Suguru snorts, “That’s a lie, sweetheart.”
“Suguru.”
“Fine, fine. They’re doing good. Mimiko is taking to it well. Her wings are so much bigger than she is and for once it’s working in her favor. Nanako gives up pretty easily and I…”
Satoru lets Suguru talk about his girls, closes his eyes and imagines the Flight Village Suguru had sent him pictures of. Green and bright, the houses tall and adorned with outdoor perches. Little flocks teaching chicks to fly in a controlled and safe environment. It’s like Suguru is advancing into summer, happy in the sun, and Satoru is stuck in winter, days droll and plagued with trauma that won’t leave him alone. He aches for Suguru, wants him here, or wants to be there. Their doctors have recommended they not live together and try to find themselves outside of each other.
“It’s a relationship built in trauma, Satoru. You need to heal before you try and continue what you have with Suguru.”
But Satoru doesn’t want to heal, not if it means he can’t have Suguru. Satoru wants Suguru here. Wants to tuck himself under slick swallow wings, and wrap Suguru in his wings until there is a cocoon of black and white that won’t budge to anything that wants to hurt them.
Suguru had agreed, told Satoru he loved him, always would but, let’s give each other some space. See if we are more than our hurt. And off he went, renting an apartment on the other side of town, taking his money to travel with his little girls. He’s in Satoru’s life, kisses his mouth when he walks through the door of Satoru’s apartment, and lavishes love onto his wings and the scars on his body. He leaves no room for doubt until he sits back and asks Satoru if he’s seeing anyone else.
As if Satoru could ever love anyone else. As if he has the capacity to hold someone in his chest the way he holds Suguru.
“Sweetheart.”
Satoru jolts, reaching with numb fingers for his phone, slipped from his hand upside down on the bed. “Yeah?”
“Thought you fell asleep.”
“No. Just listening to you.”
There’s shifting on the other side of the line. The rustle of feathers, “Well I need to go put the girls to bed. Call Sh–”
“Call Shoko if I need anything. I know.”
“Goodnight, Satoru.”
“Goodnight.”
Silence. Satoru can’t bear the thought of hanging up.
“I love you, Satoru.”
“I know,” Satoru whispers, cursing himself for feeling so cut open tonight.
More silence before Suguru is letting out a quiet sigh. “I hope you do.”
“I do.”
Suguru hangs up.
Morning dawns in a river of green from the east and Satoru staring dead eyed at the alarm clock on his bedside table. His apartment is eerily silent. That silence that’s permeated by the presence of another in a space where that ‘another’ usually does not exist.
At five thirty Satoru drags himself out of bed, hissing in pain when his right wing seizes. He needs a hot soak, and probably the pain meds stashed in his bathroom cabinet. Satoru forgoes both for the time being, grabbing his wing instead and pushing his thumbs into the joint at the bend of his wing. Sparkles of sensation, all unpleasant, rush from the point of contact to his spine. So maybe he’ll also forgo that and grin and bear it for a while.
Megumi is still asleep when Satoru eases from his room into the kitchen in search of a breakfast before breakfast. A few bowls of sugary, fruity cereal, and a lap through his social media, Megumi suddenly sits bolt upright on the couch. Satoru pauses, spoon lifted halfway to his mouth, and raises a brow at the chick when he whirls around to stare at Satoru.
“Mornin’. You hungry?”
Megumi answers that question by falling out of the nest, onto the floor and hurrying to get his things. Satoru stands up, stepping around the table, immediately stopping when Megumi puffs and hisses.
“Woah. Little early for dramatics, Turtle.”
“Turt–I’m not a turtle!” Megumi snaps, stomping a little foot on the floor. His wings are puffing as much as the caked grime and unkempt nature of them will allow. He has more downy feathers than Satoru realized. Soft little puffs that slip away from more mature feathers and drift softly to the ground. They make Satoru’s heart fucking melt.
“Are you sure about that?” Satoru laughs, “You look like you’re trying to sneak away into a shell.”
The chick straightens out his neck until he’s straining and glaring, wings rising. Satoru only has to hint that he’s going to flare his own wings for the chick to duck away.
“Where are you off to?”
“I need to leave,” Megumi says. He’s fighting to get his bag back over his wings. “There’s gonna be bread at my nest if I hurry.”
Satoru turns slowly to point at his plentiful loaves of bread, sweet and not, stacked in one corner of his counter.
“My eyes might deceive me, I’m no eagle, but I’m pretty sure that’s bread. Nice, fresh, non-dumpster bread.”
If looks could kill, Satoru would be six feet under. The chick fumes, yanking on his backpack straps, forcing his wings to flatten to his back. “That’s your bread.”
“Yup. And you can have some. Or cereal, or whatever else you manage to find in my fridge.”
For a moment everything goes very still. They stare at each other. Green eyes angry and guarded, talons running lines up and down fabric.
“What do you want from me?” Megumi finally asks. His voice quivers as he attempts to elevate it into something it just isn’t yet.
Satoru shrugs. “Well seeing as it’s early morning, you to eat breakfast would be a good start, Turtle.”
“N-no. That’s not what I asked.” Megumi’s voice slips on s sounds. His childish lisp coming out especially strong as he gets more worked up.
“I want you to be safe, Megumi,” Satoru says softly. “A chick your age shouldn’t be fending for himself out on the streets.”
Megumi sinks a hand into his little shirt, chews his bottom lip, and looks up at Satoru with wet eyes. “But why? I don’t. M’not rich. Or have pretty wings. An, an, I don’ know why you…”he peters off, rubbing a fist into his eye.
Satoru sighs and sinks to the ground on his knees so he can meet Megumi’s gaze. “Listen to me. I’m going to tell you as much of the truth as I can. Some of it might be hard for you to understand, but I think you should know.”
Megumi nods. He sucks in a harsh sniffle and tilts his chin up. “Okay. Tell me.”
“It's a long story,” Satoru warns.”So why don’t we make some cereal and eat it in the living room while I tell you. Deal?”
They settle on the couch with loaded bowls of fruity pebbles. Megumi back in his nest, Satoru pressed to the opposite side of the couch, sitting with his legs folded up beneath him, wings draped over the backrest onto the floor. Megumi takes a bite of the cereal, freezes, chews once, and turns slightly towards Satoru with a grimace.
“Not your thing?” Satoru laughs, “I’d offer you something different, but I don’t allow healthy cereal into my house.”
Megumi takes another pointed bite. “Talk.”
“Fine. So bossy. Yeesh.” Satoru wiggles back against the cushions mulling over the story of everything over in his head. There are certain parts he can’t share with the kid. Sure, maybe it would be morally ethical to mention that he killed the chick’s biological dad in a bloody cock fight, but he’d like to spare what little is left of the kid’s childhood. Said childhoodless chick is staring dubiously at Satoru, cheeks puffed with food, eyes no less suspicious. So Satoru starts talking.
“I was in a really bad place for a long time. A dangerous place that required me to fight for my survival. In fact that’s all I was really there for, to fight.”
“Fight…what?” Megumi asks.
Damn.
“Well. Other people.”
“Like a boxer?”
Satoru scoffs harshly. “I wish. It’s a long bullshitty, don’t say that, story. But the gist of it is, I saw a lot of shit, shit, uh, shoot, stuff. I saw a lot of stuff I didn’t want to.” He did a lot of stuff he didn’t want to do. “And one day I heard that there was a chick out on the streets named Turtle.”
Megumi’s face sours. “Me-gu-mi.”
“Ah, right. A chick named Megumi. And rumor had it that Megumi was going to be brought to this terrible place before he was ten so he could also fight for his life.”
“Other people?”
Satoru nods, turning away from dark furrowed eyebrows. “Yeah. Other people. I knew that I needed to get away and find you before they did.”
Megumi is quiet, staring down at the mush his cereal has dissolved into. “You didn’t need to be so weird the first time we met though.”
“Ha! Yeah. You’re right. But I still have scars from where you scratched me, so I think we’re even.”
The chick perks up like it’s Christmas. He leans across the couch, “Really? Where?”
Satoru flips his arm over to show the chick the long, thin, white lines that stretch from the bottom of his palm to the end of his wrist. Megumi makes a little sound of awe before sitting back and nodding like he can die happy now.
“You’re a little shit, Turtle,” Satoru says.
“Megumi.”
“Turtle.”
“Turtle sounds nothing like Megumi!” Megumi huffs. “And you even said I’m not a turtle.”
“Changed my mind.”
Megumi pouts. He turns away from Satoru to shovel the rest of his food into his mouth. The air feels a little less tense around them, but Satoru is unsure what Megumi is feeling outside of vague annoyance at the stupid nickname Satoru has bestowed upon him. He eats his soggy sugar in silence, and thinks about the cartoons he missed that morning.
“Satoru.”
It’s the first time the chick has used his name since Satoru gave it to him the second time they came across each other in the street.
“Yeah?”
“What happens when you get tired of me?”
Satoru shakes his head. “Nope. Don’t think that’s possible. If anything you’d be the one getting tired of me.”
“What if I do something bad?”
“You’re too little for anything bad you do to mean anything.” Satoru watches the chick’s face closely as he dismisses everything Megumi is saying.
“I could stay here.”
“Yeah,” Satoru says softly. “For as long as you want, or need.”
The chick’s hands are shaking around his bowl. Little chest rising and falling as Megumi attempts to stop whatever emotion is rising in him. “Will you. Are you my dad now?”
Satoru considers this. The easy answer would be yes. But it’s not an easy situation with easy answers. There is a lot of legal bullshit Satoru is going to have to do for any of this to be well, legal. And to be fair he isn’t sure he’s ready for such a title himself yet.
“I can be whatever you need me to be.”
Megumi nods seriously. Everything he does is serious. Calculated and measured to ensure he will get the very best out of everything. “Maybe just Satoru for now.”
They don’t get around to preening until late that evening. Megumi is still skittish and Satoru’s wings start to hurt so badly that he lays down on the cool floor and takes an unrestful nap for three hours. When he wakes up, Megumi is going through his bag, making little piles of things on the edge of the makeshift nest. There’s a wad of bills tied together with a shoelace, a threadbare scarf, half a ziplock bag of trail mix, and a crumpled plastic water bottle. That is everything Megumi owns, Satoru realizes with a pang in his chest. Peeling his cheek off the floor, Satoru sits up.
“Do you want to go and look at the guest bedroom?” His voice is croaky from sleep. Megumi nods jerkily.
Satoru gathers the chick’s nest in his arms and shoos the little boy down the hall in front of him. The guest bedroom is a decent sized, furnished only with a round bed and a perch for the time being. But there is room for a wardrobe and a desk. Satoru dumps the nest on the bed before stepping towards the window to make sure it’s bolted shut and to allow Megumi ample room to look around the new space without feeling pressured.
“I can bring you more blankets and you can put together a more permanent nest if you’d like. You need clothes though, and I gotta get some baby feather supplies,” Satoru says to the window, and to Megumi who has placed his backpack down on the floor by the bed. The child inspects the bed with scrutinizing eyes, reaching out to prod at it with a single finger. It must pass whatever test Megumi was performing on it, because he climbs onto it and begins to deconstruct the nest.
“I’m going to make lunch,” Satoru says. “Any preference?”
He doesn’t get an answer, the chick is too absorbed in his task. Satoru ‘makes’ lunch silently. He watches the water on the stove boil and debates between chicken or beef cup noodles for the kid. But then he remembers that Megumi has survived off people’s pity and whatever he could find in dumpsters so really it probably won’t matter. Satoru chooses chicken for both of them.
Sitting at the island, Satoru pulls out his phone and texts Shoko a short version of the events that have transpired in the past day. She calls him after the read recite pops up.
“Satoru what the hell?”
Satoru drops his forehead to the countertop. “Hello to you too.”
“Fine. Hello, now. Satoru, what the hell .” Shoko’s voice is a little groggy, he probably woke her up from one of her much needed spontaneous afternoon roosts. There is no sympathy for her in Satoru.
“I don’t know why everyone is reacting so strangely to this. You and Suguru know I’ve been trying to help this kid since the break.”
Shoko hums low in her throat, it splinters into static in Satoru’s ear.“Oh so you have told Suguru.”
“Of course I’ve told Suguru. He’s my boyfriend.”
“More like he’s your babysitter with benefits,” Shoko says.
“Ewww. Don’t ever say that again.” Satoru whines against faux marble.
Shoko snickers but when Satoru protests she relents. “Is he okay? The chick? I can’t imagine living on the streets alone could be healthy.”
“He’s better off than I feared he'd be,” Satoru says. “His feet are a little frostbitten I think, and his wings have some bad matting.”
“Hm, want me to come over and take a look?”
“Not yet, he’s skittish. I don’t know what he’d do if I suddenly introduced a strange adult to him.”
“Fair enough,” Shoko says. “Do you know what species he is?”
“Not vulture, if that’s what you’re asking.” Satoru sits up pulling google up onto his phone and typing in ‘crow wings chick’. The resulting images look similar to Megumi’s feathers, but the chick’s wings are so messy he can’t know for sure. “I’m thinking either raven or crow.”
“Oh really?”
“Mn. They’re a little iridescent. I can probably tell you better after I get them cleaned up a little bit.”
“I’m glad for your sake that he isn’t vulture,” Shoko murmurs. Satoru’s stomach clenches. He puts the phone back up to his ear casting a wary glance down the hall.
“He’s at least part,” Satoru says quietly. “But it wouldn’t have mattered.”
“Satoru, you’ve freaked out over my wings. Don’t spin that bullshit with me.”
Satoru swallows, “You’re condor, Shoko. Your wings look close enough. Megumi, he’s tiny. Completely harmless. Definitely doesn’t remind me of his dad.”
“Uh Huh. I have a very distinct memory of you bitching for a week after he scratched you,” Shoko says.
“Yeah, yeah. I gotta go before lunch turns to glue.”
“Well good luck I guess. I’d like to meet the little shit eventually.”
Satoru peels back the paper lids on the cup noodles to check the contents. “Yeah, eventually. Talk to you later.”
“Later, oh and take your medication. Suguru told me he doesn’t think you’re taking it.”
“It makes me feel like shit.” Satoru defends, getting up to rummage through his silverware drawer. He has a pathetic selection. No matching chopsticks, the two spoons he had dirty from cereal, and only plastic sporks from take out shoved along the seam of the drawer. He digs them out now and throws them at the island.
“Then tell your doctors they make you feel like shit.” Shoko snaps. “You aren’t going to get better unless you do what the doctors prescribe for you.”
“Well so far what they’ve prescribed has made me feel like shit. Like borderline suicidal.”
Shoko goes quiet. “Satoru, you need to tell your doctors that. If the medication is having side effects like that, you need something different. I know there will be something out there that can help you and not fuck your mental health up anymore.”
Satoru sighs, “I know. I just. I want to go back to the way I was before.”
“You aren’t going to get there unless you’re honest with yourself and your doctors,” Soko says firmly. “I want you to fly again, Satoru. I want it so fucking bad.
“Yeah.” Satoru laughs dully, “I bet you and Suguru pity me so much for having to take the bus anywhere I go now.”
“Shut up, you know we miss you and want you better.”
Out of the corner of his eye Satoru can see Megumi peering out of his room at him. Satoru smiles and beacons the chick to come closer.
“I’ll work on it, I have to go now though.”
“I will come over there and force you to ‘work’ on it if you don’t fix it by Monday,” Shoko threatens. “Take care of that baby.”
“I plan to. Bye Shoko.” Satoru slides his phone away from him and turns his attention fully on Megumi. “Hop on up, Turtle. I worked so hard on this lunch.”
Megumi scowls, but clambers up on the stool where he sat to eat dinner. The chick grasps the styrofoam cup in his little hands, inhaling the steam that whisps up from the noodles when he peels back the top. “Thems cup noodles.” Again an accusation and slight against Satoru’s intelligence.
“Made with a secret ingredient,” Satoru says, following suit and peeling off the top of his meal.
“Secret gredient?” Megumi asks.
“Yup.”
Megumi sniffs his noodles again, pawing at the spork, fighting it out of its plastic bag. When it doesn’t go with ease, Megumi gives up and drinks from the styrofoam, one eye caught uncannily on Satoru over the rim.
“Tastes salty,” Megumi says when he puts it down and smacks his lips. “What is the secret gredient?”
Satoru slurps a sporkful of oversoft noodles into his mouth. “I call it TLC.”
Megumi gives him a dead stare. “That sounds like a drug.”
Satoru chokes on his mouthful.
When evening falls Satoru steps into Megumi’s room to inspect the nest and float the idea of a wash and preening back to the boy again. The nest is surprisingly well put together. The edges tucked neatly into the nest liner, blankets smooth and fluffed. Satoru feels a swell of pride for the little chick, even if he knows the skills were born from the fact that there was no one there to upkeep the chick's nest for him.
Megumi is curled on the perch in the corner of his room. On the highest platform, head tucked under his wing. Satoru coos at him, reaching up with his wing to brush his feathers along the exposed tufts of spiked hair. Megumi jolts away, eyes blinking open. His nictitating membrane struggles to peel back as he comes awake.
“You good there, little guy?” Satoru asks, poking at him again.
“Go way.” Megumi mumbles, shuffling back into himself.
“I will, but I was wondering if you still wanted to try preening. And no offense but you’re getting your stinky all over the place.”
“Mnot stinky.”
“Yeah you are kid. Very stinky.” Satoru pokes at him once more, tickling behind his ears. “You are in dire need of a bird bath.”
Megumi bats his wing away, grumbling as he sits up and all but falls off of the perch onto the floor. His wings flaring out to ease his descent. Satoru wonders vaguely as he herds wild hair and feathers towards the bathroom, if the kid knows how to fly. He hasn’t seen him try, nor has Megumi flown away from Satoru in any of their meetings. That’s a bridge to cross later though, especially when Satoru remembers that he doesn’t have any clean clothing for the chick.
“I don’t have any clothes for you kid. Would you be okay wearing one of my shirts until I can figure something out?”
Megumi stares up at him with large eyes nodding.
“Okay, great. Uh. Can you shower by yourself, or do you need help?” Satoru steps into the guest bathroom shower stall, stocked with shampoo and body supplies including a wrapped washcloth that’ll expand once wet. He opens it, hands it to Megumi and then turns on the shower. “Come test the temperature.”
“I can bave myself,” Megumi says, clutching the washcloth cube and sticking his free hand under the shower spray. He nods in approval to it and Satoru steps back.
“Alrighty. I’ll leave you to it. That’s shampoo and that’s body wash, they won’t hurt your feathers if you get it in them okay?”
“Okay.”
Megumi showers quickly and when Satoru knocks on the bathroom door again with a shirt that he’ll have to tie to the boy, the chick is huddled on the bath mat looking like a drowned rat. Satoru grabs a towel and drops it on Megumi’s head.
“Gonna catch a cold,” Satoru says. He rubs the towel into Megumi’s hair, then down into his wings, ruffling them up. Satoru pushes feathers aside, sucking in a harsh breath as the smell of mildew permeates the air. “Aw geez chick, this doesn’t look very good.”
The top layers of the primaries and secondaries are littered with breaks, overgrown in places, nothing that a little preening won’t fix. But underneath them there are patches of mildew hedging towards mold bleeding white between dark feathers. Megumi makes a little sound of distress when Satoru brushes his fingers along the discolored area.
“Does it hurt?”
“Feels bad,” Megumi says. He buries his head into the fluffy towel. Satoru nods, smoothing wonky feathers down over the damaged parts.
“Can I pick you up?”
Megumi nods without pulling his face out of the towel. Satoru gathers him in his arms. Tucking the towel around him, pressing Megumi’s little head to his shoulder. The chick pulls up his legs and his arms in until he has become a warm little loaf of baby, searching for warmth in the center of Satoru’s chest. It makes the protective streak in Satoru flare. He lays his palm between Megumi’s wings and pushes down the desire to wrap his wings around the little boy.
Satoru carries Megumi to his nest. He feels slightly off kilter from the smell of the rot in Megumi’s wings. If he’s going to preen the kid he needs to be comfortable himself. Settling in the middle of his bed, Satoru undoes the towel and slips the massive shirt over Megumi’s tiny body at the same time. The wing holes in the back of the garment are far too large. Satoru leans over to his bedside table and digs some of Suguru’s hair ties out of the messy drawer. He loops the tie around the fabric until there are four bundles holding the shirt closed, pressed under Megumi’s wings.
“So you’ve never been preened, yeah?”
Megumi jerks a messy nod against Satoru’s shoulder. “Mommy might’ve. Can’t member.”
“That’s okay,” Satoru says. He extends one of his wings out. “I’ll show you what I’mma do on my wing and then if you don’t like anything we’ll stop.”
Another nod and Megumi turns his face to watch Satoru cards his fingers through white feathers.
“So I’m gonna do a lot of combing with my fingers just like this. This will help me figure out what feathers might need to go.”
“Go?”
Satoru hums, “Yup. Look, here’s one.” there’s a feather that’s a little damaged from how poorly Satoru slept that night. He probably shouldn’t pull it, but molt is soon for him anyways. “If you reach up and pull gently on it here,” he lifts his feathers with his other hand so Megumi can see where the pin is inserted in his skin, “it won’t hurt.”
The chick still lets out a little gasp when Satoru twists the end of the feather and pulls it from his wing. His talons–Satoru needs to add, child talon care kit/how to do child talon care, to his ever lengthening list of things needed to be done for the chick– dig into Satoru’s skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“I promise it doesn’t hurt. Not even after it’s gone.”
“Will it come back?”
“It will, and it being gone will ensure the ones around it stay healthy,” Satoru says.
Megumi shuffles his wings, stretches them out until they lay atop of Satoru’s. “My feathers are hurt, it’ll take a lot.”
“It will,” Satoru agrees. He’s a little caught on just how huge his wings are compared to Megumi’s. “But you’ll feel a lot better.”
Megumi stares at his wings for a little while before he stuffs his face back into Satoru’s neck and nods.
Satoru starts slow. He combs his fingers from the humerus down to the very end of quivering primaries. Fluffy little feathers come off in his talons until it looks like black snow has fallen around them on the bed. It’s a relief to see how healthy many of Megumi’s feathers are. Once the dying down is removed and Satoru has rubbed warmth into the primaries they shine.
“Do you know what your mom was, Turtle?”
“Mn. No. Her wings, they looked like mine.” Megumi’s wing jerks a little in Satoru’s grasp.
“I think she might’ve been a raven. Your feathers are a little too shiny to be a crow, me thinks.”
Megumi pulls out of his huddle to look at his wings like he’s never seen them before. “Raven.”
“Pretty sure. See how your feathers are blue and purple but also black? That’s normally a raven characteristic.”
The kid’s wing flexes and Megumi drops his little mouth open in a small o shape. “I’m a raven.”
Satoru hums, reaching for the damp towel he’s taken off the kid, using it to massage the skin under a mangled primary. The pin is already loose, wobbling as Satoru cleans the area. He wonders if its result from a failed molt or the malnourishment the kid is going through.
“Pretty cool huh,” Satoru says. He sets aside the towel. “I’m going to pull this feather, okay? It won’t hurt.”
Megumi tenses up all over again, Satoru doesn’t really give him time to think about it. The feather all but falls off into his palm. Satoru holds it up to show Megumi.
“That’s all?”
“Didn’t hurt, did it?”
Megumi reaches up to touch the place where the feather was. “No. I didn’t even feel it.”
“Great! Ready for the rest?”
As Satoru works through Megumi’s feathers the chick relaxes against him again. He’s taken to plucking his own down off Satoru’s clothes, flicking it into the air and watching it float down to the ground. Satoru’s bed is covered in dark feathers by the time Megumi’s right wing is done and the limb looks so much better.
“I’m kind of hungry, what about you?” Satoru brushes feathers off his lap and out of his own wings.
“Yeah.”
Satoru carries Megumi back into the kitchen instructing the boy to move his right wing so he can check how it’s moving and if any skin is peeling along joints. Besides the rot patches the wing is moving lighter, no longer dragging down Megumi’s right shoulder. He texts Shoko asking her about wing rot and if it can be treated at home while he warms up a plate of assorted leftovers.
“Satoru?”
“Hm?”
“What kinda bird are you?” Megumi asks, kicking his legs where he sits. He looks so much brighter and Satoru kind of wishes he had insisted on preening the night before.
“I’m a swan.” Satoru extends his wings to their full span. He’s always been proud of his wings. Even if they were a little oversized when he was a teenager. They’re pretty, full, well taken care of, powerful. He’s always been proud of his wings, until Toji Fushiguro knelt on his back and tore fistfuls of feathers out. Throwing white in Satoru’s blood, grabbing the base of his wings right where they meet Satoru’s skin and tearing . The feathers grew back, slowly but surely, covering the worst of the scarring that puckers Satoru’s skin. But the natural mechanics along Satoru’s spine, and the nerve endings along his wings will never be the same again.
“So.” Megumi’s voice takes Satoru out of his rapidly spiraling musings.
“So?”
“You were ugly when you were small.”
Satoru gapes at him. “It doesn’t matter! Look at how pretty my wings are now, Turtle.” he flaps them for emphasis. “I’m the prettiest bird in this whole city.”
“Sounds like inscurity,” Megumi says blankly, making grabby hands at the microwave when it beeps.
“Wha-no! And you can’t even say insecurity. Don’t use words you can’t say.”
“Good thing you grew outta it,” Megumi says, and has the continued audacity to silently demand the food in the microwave.
Satoru takes it out and drops it unceremoniously in front of the chick. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Megumi shrugs, attention caught on the food. Satoru pouts and snatches the large piece of beef he knows the chick had his eyes on. He only feels slightly bad about it.
After dinner Satoru does Megumi’s left wing. The chick falls asleep on his chest. Satoru leans back against his headboard and closes his eyes, stroking a hand through Megumi’s hair. It fluffs up into a mess when it dries. He feels like he’s floating in an odd gray area between content and bitterly lonely. The warm weight of the chick on his chest is comforting, but Satoru can’t help but continue to feel separate from Megumi. Everything feels oddly settled, but in Satoru’s experience what feels like it will never break, does.
Satoru takes Megumi to his room, tucks him under the blankets in his nest and returns to the living room. He raids the top shelf of his pantry where he keeps a bowl of candy, and slumps onto the couch, balancing it on his stomach. When he calls Suguru, he doesn’t answer.
Those first few weeks are…interesting. Not really hard, or bad, nothing happens to make Satoru regret allowing the chick into his life. But Megumi is a quiet child, a stubborn child, and determined to do everything for himself even if he really doesn’t need to. He spends most of those first weeks sleeping and eating, which Satoru full heartedly supports. Watching little cheeks fill out to perfect pinching shape is relieving. The wing rot is slowly but surely being treated by an antibiotic and a topical spray that Megumi loathes, fighting tooth and talon any time Satoru corners him to apply it. Satoru finds himself lost in the catharsis of caring for another person. A little person who needs his help almost every step of the way no matter how hard Megumi seems to disagree with this fact. It’s easy to forget about his own woes. How can he care about the pain in his wings and Suguru feeling so fucking distant, when Megumi lit up like a Christmas tree when Satoru took him shopping and allowed him to pick out a selection of toys. Each toy–about three even when Satoru told him he could have more–are lined with care in Megumi’s nest. He keeps with him a plush dog, tucked into his elbow anywhere he goes.
It’s so easy to fall in love with caring for Megumi, to laugh at the little boy’s serious antics, swoon over his little chirps, and grin through Megumi’s never ending insisting , “Mnot a turtle, Satoru!” that he’s not expecting it at all one evening when there’s a knock at his door and then the beep of a valid key card sliding through the lock. Satoru springs to his feet from where he and Megumi were sitting on the floor watching The Clone Wars. Popcorn goes flying, and somewhere in the back of Satoru's mind he knows that whoever is outside his door isn’t a stranger, but he’s stepping between Megumi and the door. His wings flare up and back, neck inclining, he hisses high and shrill as the door opens.
“Hey sweetheart.” Suguru has his hands up, one full of a sparkling gift bag, snow in his hair, glittering on his wings, and a small smile on his tired face.
“Suguru.” Satoru chokes on the hiss in his throat. His wings fall so far they touch the floor. “Suguru,” he breathes.
Suguru catches him when he all but throws himself into his arms, pressing kisses across his face until he finds his mouth. Satoru kisses him hard, once, pulling away to look at him, twice, mumbling his name against his lips, a third time to linger. Suguru smells like cold, the snow has melted into little beads of moisture in his hair and along the downward curve of his dark wings. Satoru steps away, hands braced on Suguru’s shoulders, before he yanks him back into a crushing hug.
“I missed you so much. I. Oh my god. I’m almost convinced you’re fake. You should have called, why didn’t you call? Do you like making me suffer?”
Suguru laughs, low and deep in Satoru’s ear. “Hush, sweetheart. I wanted to surprise you.”
“I'm surprised,” Satoru says. He kisses Suguru again. “I’m so surprised. I’m. Where are the chicks?” there is a very noticeable lack of little sparrows making Satoru’s apartment their own.
“They’re with my mom.”
Satoru searches Suguru’s face, looking for any distress. He looks tired, but Suguru always looks tired. He let Satoru kiss him so he probably isn’t at fault.
“Calm down,” Suguru laughs, kissing Satoru’s chin. He is definitely more touchy than he has been in a long time. “I wanted to see you but I figured the chicks might upset your little one.”
God, Satoru loves this man with everything in his body. He grins at Suguru and whirls around to look for Megumi, who has to be expected, stuffed himself under the coffee table and stares out at them in bewilderment. Taking Suguru’s hand, Satoru leads him into the living room and all but shoves him onto the couch. He crouches to peer at Megumi beaconing for him to come out. The chick does, plastering himself to Satoru’s chest staring balefully at Suguru.
“I might have overreacted,” Satoru says softly, petting Megumi’s wings. “You have nothing to be afraid of.” He looks up at Suguru who’s watching him with a look on his face that Satoru can’t decipher. “Suguru, this is Turtle.”
Megumi shoves Satoru in the side, huffing at Suguru with clenched fists. “I’m Megumi. Not Turtle!”
Suguru’s eyes gleam and he leans forward holding out a hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Megumi. I’m Suguru.”
The chick doesn’t shake Suguru’s hand, he shies back towards Satoru. “Who are you?”
“I’m Satoru’s boyfriend,” Suguru says unperturbed by the chick’s shunning. Megumi’s mouth pops open, he cranes his head around to stare up at Satoru.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Satoru laughs, “I told you I was pretty.”
“Bout all you are,” Megumi mumbles. He turns back around to judge Suguru some more. He’s biting his bottom lip, shoulders shaking with restrained laughter. Satoru sticks his tongue out at him but he feels so fucking warm.
“I bought something for you, if that’s okay, Megumi.” Suguru holds out the gift bag. The chick glances at Satoru before snatching the bag and ducking back into Satoru’s ribs.
There’s green tissue paper layered on top of whatever is in the bag that Megumi pokes at for a long time before Satoru reaches forward and helps him remove it from the bag. He crumples it in his palm and watches just as curious to see what Suguru could have gotten the chick. The first item out of the bag is a beanie, a scarf, and a pair of soft gloves all the same comforting maroon color. Then he produces an elephant plush that fits just as well in Megumi’s elbow as his dog does. And finally at the very bottom of the bag is a book. A thin chapter book, Moominsummer Madness, by Tove Jansson. Megumi sits on the floor, all other items forgotten as he fumbles the book open and stares starry eyed at the words and sketchy doodles on the first page.
Satoru looks up at Suguru, his heart bleeding in utter adoration for the man looking down at his chick with such a sweet smile. Suguru meets his eyes, smile turning a little brighter. Satoru mouths a thank you to him and tugs at the front of his shirt above his heart to try and relay just how rapidly it’s beating for Suguru. The lip biting draws a snort out of Suguru, but he gets off the couch, moving carefully, to join Satoru on the floor, kissing his ear on the way to the ground. Satoru melts into the wing Suguru wraps around his back, laying his head against his shoulder.
Megumi turns towards them, holding the book a little clumsily by the front cover, leaving the rest to flop open.
“I can’t read,” Megumi says pitifully.
“Ah, well that’s fine,” Satoru says cheerfully. He holds a hand out for the book, patting his lap with the other one. “I can.”
Megumi curls in Satoru’s lap and he opens the book, lowering it so the chick can see the little illustrations. Suguru puts his cheek on the top of Satoru’s head.
“Chapter 1, About a bark boat and a volcano,” Satoru starts.
“What’s a volcano?” Megumi whispers.
“A mountain that explodes very hot liquid rock down its sides when it gets angry,” Suguru whispers back.
“Are they dangerous?”
“They are, but I don’t think you have to worry about them, okay?”
Satoru bites his cheek to kill the smile that’s crawling onto his face. Megumi settles with some unease against Satoru’s knee again, pulling his wings up to his chin like they’re a blanket. He is definitely going to be worried about volcanoes for a long time.
“Want me to keep going?” Satoru asks.
Megumi and Suguru nod.
“Moominmama was sitting on the front steps in the sun, rigging a model bark schooner…”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Satoru says to Suguru when Megumi is asleep and they’re in Satoru’s room. Suguru crawls across the bed, pressing Satoru back against it, dropping several kisses to his mouth.
“I did though. There was no way I was showing up here without a peace offering.” Suguru sits up, rolling off Satoru before he can trap him against his body. He pulls the band that’s holding his hair up out and shucks off his shirt.
Satoru sighs silently at the sight of his torso. Familiar marks and scars. The long jagged one across Suguru’s hip that Satoru had given him by accident. The mole just under Suguru’s ribs, and most prominent, the tattooed wings that curl over his collarbones, until the longest primaries touch in the center of his sternum.
Black and white.
Magpie wings.
Riko’s wings.
Satoru turns away, staring up at his ceiling, waiting for Suguru to crawl back into bed with him.
“I thought you were going to kill me,” Suguru says quietly as he turns Satoru’s body against his chest, wrapping his wing around them. He lays a hand on Satoru’s hip, rubbing his thumb against his shirt in tight, soft little circles.
“To be fair.” Satoru yawns against Suguru’s throat. It’s like his body is just slipping out of whatever insane mode it’s been in for the past few weeks now that Suguru is here again. “I didn’t know it was you.”
“You’re so protective of him already,” Suguru murmurs. He’s nosing into Satoru’s hair, lips brushing against his scalp. “You’re so. God, Satoru. You’re so gentle with him.”
“He’s a baby,” Satoru says. Suguru is making him drowsy and warm. He reaches up to thread his fingers through Suguru’s silky hair, pulling him closer, closer. “He deserves to have someone care for him.”
“Gonna keep him?”
“If he wants me.”
Suguru laughs softly, “I think he wants you.”
Humming, Satoru lets his mind wander a little bit, slipping towards that continuously illusive pool of sleep. “I hope.”
They’re quiet and Satoru feels himself loose grip on his own body. It’s just a puddle of warmth, tucked under and against Suguru.
“Sweetheart,” Suguru whispers suddenly, dragging his nose down Satoru’s face to kiss his bottom lip. “Why Turtle ?”
“The way he pulls into himself when he’s scared, or doesn’t want to talk. Like a turtle going into its shell.”
Suguru laughs, “God, he hates it.”
“I know. Can we go to sleep now?”
“Do my ears deceive me? Satoru Gojo asking to go to sleep?”
“Ass. M’tired. We haven’t slept in the same nest in three and a half months. Let me have this.” For good measure, Satoru throws his leg over Suguru’s hips.
“Love you, Satoru,” Suguru whispers. “I wish…”
Satoru pops an eye open, “Wish what?”
“Nothing.” Suguru runs a hand through Satoru’s feathers. “Nothing, just sleep.”
Normally Satoru would press the issue, sit up, maybe straddle Suguru, make him look at Satoru, and demand he say what’s weighing on his mind. Suguru’s mind is so heavy it’s deadly. Everything that runs around in his mind can be turned against him in the blink of an eye, and make an enemy out of everyone. Make an enemy out of Suguru himself. But tonight Satoru is selfish and so tired that he lets Suguru have his silence.
Like everything in Satoru’s existence, catastrophe strikes a few days after Suguru had come to see him. It might have been, probably was, Suguru that tipped the first domino that sent everything cascading into a steaming pile of Satoru failings.
Physical therapy on Tuesday morning. The first appointment since Megumi had come into Satoru’s care and he realizes that he hasn’t exactly explained to the chick that he can't fly. So when he calls Suguru asking if he can come watch Megumi he has to turn his back to the glare Megumi is burning into the side of his head.
“Where are you going?” Megumi has taken to following Satoru through the apartment as he packs his bag.
“Physical therapy. I should be back by one.”
Megumi pauses inside Satoru’s door watching him stuff his therapy folder, most of which is blank, into the pocket of his backpack. “What’s that?”
“Uh, it’s a place where people who have slowly healing hurts go to get better.” Satoru double checks everything, pulls out his phone to see where Suguru is, and finally turns to face Megumi fully.
“You have an owie?”
“Yeah.” Satoru’s hand slowly falls, phone still caught in his grasp. “I do.”
“Where?”
Satoru extends his right wing slightly. “My wings.”
“Your wings?” Megumi steps forward and lays a hand against Satoru’s feathers. “But you seem good?”
“It’s a pain I’m kind of used to at this point. And it’s nothing you can see. I’m good at hiding it.”
Megumi’s face scrunches up bitterly. “You’ve has an owie this whole time?”
“Longer than this whole time, but hey. It’s not your deal okay? I’m getting it fixed.”
“Can you fly?”
Satoru presses his eyes closed for a brief second. Sometimes when he’s not marveling at how smart Megumi is, he’s resenting that spark of his father’s intelligence in him. It manifests in blunt questions like this that refuse Satoru much room to lie around them.
“No.” It comes out far darker than Satoru was intending. A low drawl dripping with loathing. A hatred for the situation and a hatred for himself for just not being able to get fucking better.
Megumi is gripping onto his little blue shirt in that way he does when he needs to say something and needs to be heard. “I–I can’t either.”
That makes everything worse. So much fucking worse.
His front door opens then, saving Satoru from reacting poorly to the words. Suguru walks into the living room smile dropping when he catches sight of Satoru. He brushes past Megumi and Suguru, slamming the door on his way out before anyone can say anything.
Satoru’s physical therapist is a pigeon. A short gray haired woman named Prilla who speaks a mile a minute and has to step back and crane her neck at strange angles to see Satoru’s eyes when she talks to him. She’s missing a wing too so Satoru thinks she’s probably one of the more qualified to be working with him. If anything her appearance, chipper and bouncy at every appointment, is humbling to Satoru.
“I thought you quit on me!” Prilla chirps when Satoru walks through the door of the clinic, shaking snow out of his feathers on the large doormat.
“Nah, got busy.” Satoru drops his bag on a bench and follows Prilla to the stretching mats. He lets her poke at his wings humming on and off.
“You’re a lot tighter than the last time I saw you,” She says. She has Satoru’s right wing in her hand, he jerks it out of her grasp.
“Been stressed, let's just start.”
Prilla doesn’t argue, just watches him quietly for a few moments before she’s helping him stretch out his wings. The routine of it all is relaxing and damning at the same time. Without anything immediately demanding his attention besides the pulls of his body, Satoru starts to put together what a bad idea it probably was to leave an unstable child alone with a person he’s known for a few days at most, while being mad. There is no way the chick doesn’t think the whole fiasco was his fault somehow.
Satoru groans, reaching up to rub at his face with both hands. Prilla lets go of his wing, folding her legs neatly beneath her; she collapses delicately on the floor by Satoru.
“Okay so, that was a, ‘life sucks ass’ sigh and not a pain sigh. You know healing has to be a little motivated by vibes, Satoru. Bad vibes means no healing, so tell me what’s up.”
“I have therapy tomorrow,” Satoru says dully.
“Well you’re messing up yourself today. Talking about it will help you go through this session, Satoru. You need a clear head.”
Satoru stares at the worn foam mat he’s sitting on. There are talon nics and other puncture holes from things Satoru can’t place. “I have a chick. Or at least I’m in the process of having a chick.”
Prilla makes a surprised sound, turning to look at Satoru fully. ‘I didn’t know you were interested in having kids.”
“I wasn’t.” Unless you count Suguru’s girls which he loves in that distant way that comes with loving their caretaker so completely. Even then though, Satoru can’t lie to himself about how Suguru choosing the girls had put distance between them and left Satoru scrambling to find where he would fit in what they were so quickly building.
“So how did you happen to have a chick?”
“I.” Satoru glances at her. “I killed his dad at The CUBE. He told me about the chick and I think. I think in some fucked up way he was asking me to take care of him in a way he was unable to.”
Prilla’s brows have climbed her forehead. She knows a lot about Satoru’s time at The CUBE. She knows he, Suguru, and Shoko had been there since they were teenagers, snatched from a school trip for the shape and size of their wings. She knows that Suguru came out of that damned hole with a shattered mental landscape and Satoru came out of it with a broken body and paranoia that makes him an asshole. She knows Toji Fushiguro haunts Satoru’s every waking moment, his healing, his peace.
“Is that…healthy?”
Satoru shrugs loosely, “Maybe not. But I’ve been happier caring for him.”
“That’s good, I guess.”
“Yeah.” Satoru stands up, stretching his hands above his head. “I probably made him think I’m mad at him.”
“Good thing about kids,” Prilla says, “Is they’re normally pretty good at forgiving you if they know you mean an apology or explain yourself.”
Satoru nods absently, he ruffles up his wings and steps over to the support beams in the middle of the room. Prilla joins him, taking his wing, stretching it out, telling him to flap them as hard as he can. Satoru does so, hissing through his teeth at the pain that ripples through his back. The burn feels just as good as it feels terribly. Satoru can imagine his back splitting again, his wing pulled from his back like he was a plastic toy, with every flap. Every pull against muscles that strain and tendons that shake has him back on the dirty floor, screaming into his own blood, talons tearing off his fingers as he scrambled against concrete.
Satoru doesn’t really remember how he managed to get Toji off his back, how he managed to roll away and come up screaming, taking the vulture by his thick neck, shoving his jagged talons into the tender flesh under his jaw.
“Satoru!” Prilla’s hands are on his back, rubbing the inflamed muscle between his shoulder blades. “Calm down, lower your wings. You’re straining yourself.”
Satoru drops his wings, staggers a little bit as his head clears of the pain fog it was drowning in. “Tell me I can fly again.”
“Satoru.”
“Please. Tell me I can fly again. I can’t. That bastard can’t have grounded me for good.” Satoru turns to stare at Prilla. Her brows are furrowed, mouth turned down. “Please.”
“If I could tell you for certain either way I would, Satoru. But I don’t know. I think we should call the session today, you aren’t in a good head space.”
“I need to fly again.”
Prilla nods sadly.
Satoru is sent home with a new prescription for a new anti-inflammatory, instructions on how to ease the tightness of his muscles, and a bag of compression tape and heating pads. Satoru stares at the door to his apartment dully, hand half raised to swipe his card. He thumps his forehead against the wood. He’s going to have to apologize to Prilla for freaking out. He’s not a few weeks out of hell anymore, he has no excuse to keep acting like this. The apartment is strangely quiet when Satoru finally works up the nerve to open the door. He shuffles in, dropping the bag to the couch where Megumi has left a small collection of stuffed toys. A snake, a rabbit, a frog; the elephant. The dog is missing as usual.Satoru brushes the tip of his fingers over one of the frogs. Satoru didn’t get the frogs for him. Probably another gift from Suguru. Speaking of…
Satoru wanders silently through the apartment, he catches sight of Megumi, bundled up in a coat and his maroon scarf, standing out of the balcony with Suguru. Satoru pauses to watch, feeling his heart sink to his toes as Suguru flares his wings and points out to the sky. Megumi’s wings go up, mimicking Suguru’s he looks to the sky like every chick should. Their realm, the sky, is for them to take. It should mean freedom and growth.
Suguru flaps his wings lightly, two little flicks, he laughs and smiles when Megumi does the same. Nodding encouragingly. Satoru turns away. He drags himself to his room and digs the medication out of the bag. He takes two of the pills with a palm full of sink water. At least Megumi isn’t upset.
The bad thing about physical therapy, besides the pain, the failure, the lack of movement, is the way it turns Satoru’s thoughts so fully onto Toji Fushiguro. On bad days, on good days, moving his wings, concentrating on understanding his body, understanding his injuries; makes him relive everything that happened to him. When he has nightmares he is left wingless, lying in a bloody puddle, flies coming to collect on the seam of his mouth and the corner of his eyes. Like he was dead long before he was killed. Suguru is there, picking up his wings like they’re corpses, bringing them to his mouth. His chin comes away smeared in white down and crimson gore. When Satoru wakes from those he breathes, touches his wings, assures himself he’s still there.
But when Satoru jolts awake from his deep medication induced sleep, there’s a shadow on the bed that rips apart his ability to resettle himself.
“Satoru?”
Satoru gasps, kicking off blankets, scrambling up and back against his headboard. The shadow, chick, Satoru realizes, flinches back so hard he nearly tumbles off the bed. Satoru reaches forward and snags Megumi’s shirt before he can fall off the bed. They stare at each other, Satoru’s chest heaving, Megumi’s eyes glinting in the dim.It’s dark outside, Satoru must have been asleep for hours.
Sharp talons tear into Megumi’s wrist. “You’re hurting me,” the chick whispers. “Le’go.”
Satoru let go of Megumi’s shirt like it burned him. “Sorry. Sorry. Are you okay?” Satoru leans over to turn on the lamp. His nest is a disaster and he’s still wearing the jeans he wore to therapy. But there is a glass of water by his lamp.
“Yeah,” Megumi says quietly. He shuffles awkwardly on the bed. “You were making sad sounds.”
Rubbing his face, Satoru sighs, “I didn’t want you to see that.”
“Why are you sad? Are your owies not going away?”
Satoru bites the inside of his mouth, thunking his head back against the headboard. “No. Not for a while.”
Megumi’s hands twist in his shirt before he crawls into Satoru’s lap, pressing himself close, his dog stuffed between them. Satoru gathers the chick against his chest, letting out a long, soft, sigh. Satoru wraps his wings around Megumi, tucking both of them into the cool white cocoon of his feathers. Megumi tucks himself tightly into Satoru’s sternum. It’s rare for the chick to initiate contact like this unless he has a book he wants Satoru to read. And Satoru no matter how often he wants to scoop the kid up and hold him, Satoru allows the boy his space. To have Megumi in his arms now, by the chick's own choice, eases some of the day's grief.
“I’m not mad at you,” Satoru whispers.
“I know,” Megumi says. “Guru told me. Said you were hurting and mad at yourself.”
Satoru laughs softly, patting Megumi’s back, “He’s not wrong. He’s never wrong.”
“Why are you mad at yourself?”
“Oh,” Satoru says, “it’s a long complicated story that I’m not sure your little brain can comprehend.”
Megumi pinches Satoru, “I’m learning to read!”
“Oh ho, and that means you can suddenly understand convoluted back stories?” Satoru pokes at Megumi’s side through his feathers.
“Those aren’t words,” Megumi mumbles against Satoru’s shirt. Satoru drops his cheek into Megumi’s fluffy hair.
“They really are though.”
Megumi falls asleep, drooling lightly on Satoru’s shirt. The door opens after a while of Satoru staring at the ceiling, combing his hands through the chick’s hair. Suguru whispers into the room, closing the door silently behind him. Emotion rises unchecked in Satoru’s throat, and when Suguru sits on the bed, pulling Satoru against his shoulder, he lets out a dry sob.
“Toru,” Suguru whispers, rubbing his arm. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t.” Satoru gasps for breath trying not to wake the chick. “I can’t teach Megumi to fly.”
“Satoru–”
“I can’t teach my chick to fly. He needs to fly and I can’t teach him !”
Suguru hushes Satoru softly, pressing his mouth to his ear, soothing a hand down Satoru’s arm. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” Satoru sniffs grossly, mucus is caught in his throat, making his voice muggy. “Nothing is okay, nothing has been okay. I’m not, you’re not, we're not. I’m fucking broken and you know it.”
Cupping Satoru’s face, Suguru turns his face towards him. “You aren’t broken, Satoru.”
“You haven’t been around,” Satoru says. He reaches up to grasp at Suguru’s wrists. “You haven’t been here. You’ve been with your girls, teaching them to fly, teaching them to live, and I’m still stuck reminded that my nature has been taken from me!”
“Stop,” Suguru says firmly. “You know why we needed space, Satoru. I remind you of everything that happened there.”
Shaking his head, Satoru pulls Suguru’s hands off his face, “You decided that for me, Suguru.”
“No. We are the exact result of that hell. We ended it, but we walked away with parts of it embedded under our skin.”
Satoru looks at Suguru. Hair falling down his back, one side tucked behind his ear, eyes seven shades of brown. They don’t lie to each other. Never have. It drove a rod between them those first meetings before their lives were stolen from them. Satoru would snap something and mean it, Suguru would snap back, and mean it. But when they fell in love, when Suguru finally told Satoru, Satoru knew he wasn’t lying. There was nothing that fed any doubt into Satoru’s mind, because they simply do not lie to each other. That doubt that has never touched Satoru when it comes to Suguru is there suddenly. It’s an epiphany. A terrible epiphany when Satoru finally understands the distance.
“ I remind you of everything,” Satoru says. His chest feels like it’s collapsing. “You can’t stand looking at me. All you see is Riko's body in my arms. Me killing Toji. You.” Satoru trails off, moves away, hand pressed firmly to Megumi’s back. Still, the little dog slips from the chick’s grasp and falls onto the floor with a muted thump.
“Satoru,” Suguru says softly. “That’s not–”
“Don’t lie to me,” Satoru says dully. “If you lie to me now that will be the end of us.”
Suguru closes his eyes and slumps where he sits, “You make me so fucking guilty. It hurts to look at you, but I can stand it because you don’t deserve the burden of this. I came out of there with so much trauma but you came out of there completely changed.”
“I tried!” Satoru’s exclamation makes Megumi’s wings ruffle. He drops his voice, “I tried so hard to be the same. I knew you were hurting so badly, that month you spent in the mental hospital wanting to die, I was sick because I knew I wasn’t ever going to be the same for you ever again.”
“Satoru, sweetheart, I don’t need you to be the way you were. Do you hear what I’m saying? We are so turned against ourselves that it’s touching the part of us that has always been the strongest.” Suguru reaches for Satoru again, hooking a palm around his neck, bringing their foreheads together. “I wish that we could be with each other all the time, but I don’t want to look at you and feel nothing but guilt. I want to look at you and think, holy fuck, that’s my gorgeous partner who makes life worth living and I’m good for him.”
Satoru laughs a bitter thing, “You’re making the therapists sound like they knew what they were talking about.”
“They do,” Suguru says gently. “But you needed me and I wasn’t where I needed to be and I’m so sorry, Satoru.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry for getting better,” Satoru mutters. “I’m so happy for you.”
Suguru kisses his mouth, pulling away to smooth his thumbs over Satoru’s cheek bones, wiping away salt trails. “I want our happiness to be mutual.”
“I know.”
Suguru kisses Satoru’s lips tenderly then leans down to press his lips to the ridge of Satoru’s wing still wrapped protectively around Megumi.
“You will fly again, Satoru.”
They’ve never lied to each other so Satoru nods, a canine punching a hole in his bottom lip. Suguru gets more fully onto the bed, pushing Satoru forward to slip behind him.
“Technically I should be the big spoon,” Satoru mumbles. “My wings are bigger.”
“That’s bullshit,” Suguru whispers. “Let me hold you.”
“Don’t curse in front of the baby.”
Peering over Satoru’s shoulder, Suguru looks down at Megumi’s messy head. “The baby is down for the count. He was pretty upset earlier.”
“Yeah, I realized I messed up. I was that kid once, you know?”
Suguru noses under Satoru’s jaw, “Really? Wonder where he went.”
“Killed him like a bug.”
The laugh Suguru lets out is loud and they both jump, watching Megumi closely to see if the little boy will wake. When he doesn’t Suguru laughs a little quieter. “I’m glad you have him.”
“Me too. God, me too.” Satoru cards his fingers lightly through Megumi’s hair, poking with a feathers touch at rounded cheeks. “My Turtle. My blessing.”
Megumi is officially placed under Satoru’s legal guardianship, almost six months after the little boy came into his nest. It’s been a long and frankly terrible journey through lawyers, social workers, judges and so much of Megumi’s disturbing history. A sister from a different mother is discovered along the way, but Satoru has no way of asking if she would like to see her little brother. She’s safe, happy, somewhere where her dad’s crimes can’t touch her. Megumi’s collection of stuffed creatures has grown to ten and upon reaching ten he has refused anymore. He’s a little louder, no less grumpy, and he holds no punches when it comes to Satoru. Megumi even managed to break his social hesitations before Satoru and Suguru’s plan to force interaction with Mimiko and Nanako could be enacted.
Down at a park a few blocks from Satoru’s building, Megumi has made not one, but two friends. A little girl with hawk wings that are so large they look almost comical. She makes up for it with her spunk and the way she commands games and gets back up when the wings trip her up. A little boy who comes to the park with his old brother, both flamingo. He screams in excitement when he sees Megumi, leaving his brother’s side to flap and fall his way into Megumi’s arms. His eyes are full of everything youth should be, but his clothes are always the same,only steadily more worn and the brother watches the world like he doesn’t trust anything that moves. Satoru catches his eyes once and smiles. He understands.
“Do you want to invite your friends over for midsummer?” Satoru asks as he and Megumi walk back to the apartment. The chick is dirty and tired beside him. An intense game of, well to be honest Satoru has no idea what they were playing, something where Yuji would scream black slash! and then hit a tree or play equipment while Megumi’s stuffed dog would attack invisible foes, and Nobara mimed construction(?). Whatever it was, it had gone on for almost the entire play time until Sukuna had spit out his cigarette and called Yuji to go home, breaking up the game.
“Isn’t Mimiko and Nanako coming?” Megumi drawls the question, leaning against Satoru’s leg in the elevator.
Satoru hums, “They are, but it was your idea to celebrate this, so why not invite more friends?”
Megumi seems to consider this, “Snufkin missed the midsummer celebration.”
“He did.”
“That made me sad. I’ll ask them if they want to come.”
Satoru nods silently. In all the time he’s had Megumi and the more frequent visits by Suguru–they still aren’t living together, see each other about twice a month, but they’re working on it–the chick has never met Mimiko and Nanako. So when Megumi had asked Satoru if they could celebrate midsummer that summer, he and Suguru decided it would be a good time for them to meet. Satoru hopes that having more little kids there that are already Megumi’s friends, he won’t feel potentially ganged up on.
Megumi makes a beeline for the couch when Satoru lets them into the apartment, flinging himself onto it.
“Shoes, Turtle,” Satoru calls as he toes his off. “You know better.”
Megumi comes slinking back to the door to remove his shoes. Satoru pats his head heading past him to begin dinner . He works quietly, not really realizing just how quietly until he looks up and sees Megumi standing on the seam between the hardwood and carpet, hands clasped behind his back.
“I don’t think I have anything you can eat before it’s cooked, sorry buddy.”
Megumi shakes his head and inches closer. He moves his stool from the sink right by Satoru’s feet. The chick clambers up and peers at the raw meat Satoru is rolling into balls.
“I help?”
Satoru blinks at his chick but shrugs and puts the bowl between them. “The meat is raw so be careful. Don’t touch your mouth or anything else until you wash your hands.”
Nodding very seriously, Megumi pulls the raw concoction off the bigger mound and rolls it between tiny palms. They work elbow to elbow, their little meatballs are wonky and misshapen.
“Doesn’t matter,” Satoru says. “As long as they taste good.”
After the pans are placed in the oven and Satoru helps Megumi wash his hands, the chick hops off his stool and wraps his arms around Satoru’s waist.
“Thank you, for being my dad.”
Holy. Shit. Tears spring to Satoru’s eyes and he kneels so he can hug his kid properly. He sniffles like a baby into Megumi’s wings. They smell clean, warm, and healthy.
“Don cry!” Megumi scolds, yanking lightly on Satoru’s feathers. “Don be sad.”
“I’m not sad,” Satoru laughs. He drops a kiss to the top of Megumi’s head. “I’m the complete opposite of sad. Thank you for being my chick.”
Megumi, a little stiff before, drops his head onto Satoru’s shoulder and nods.
Nanako bursts through Satoru’s door ahead of Suguru and her sister almost two weeks later, on the day that they’re going to the park to celebrate the summer. Megumi jumps out of his skin. He’d been sitting on the perch in the living room, looking through his Moomin book, reading the words he knows. Satoru comes out of the kitchen, pecks Suguru’s lips and hugs both his girls.
“Girls, this is Megumi,” Suguru says after Megumi has fluttered down from the perch and stuffed himself behind Satoru.
“Megumi,” Nanako says, reaching around Satoru to poke at Megumi’s wings, “is a girl's name and you’re not pretty enough to be a girl.”
Megumi scrunches his face at her, “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does!” Nanako huffs. She folds her arms over her chest and stomps a foot. “Daddy, Megumi is a girl's name right?”
Suguru smiles patiently at her, “Megumi is Megumi’s name and that’s all that matters.”
“Or,” Satoru says, “You can call him Turtle.”
He and Suguru escape into the kitchen to finish packing picnic baskets after that. Suguru pulls Satoru around to face him, laughing against his mouth as they kiss. Satoru cups his face, kisses him until Suguru is leaning back, still laughing.
“Look at them,” Suguru says against Satoru’s lips, turning to look at the chicks huddled together looking at Megumi’s toys. “Look at our babies, Satoru.”
Satoru nods, grinning so broad his cheeks hurts. “Look what they came out of. Look at how good they are.”
They celebrate the midsummer at the park. It lacks any of the actual traditions, Satoru doesn’t understand them enough and knows that Megumi simply picked up the idea from his book. But it’s a warm day, not hot, barely windy. The chicks play until they drop and then they eat until they have replenished their energy and do it over again. Shoko brought beer for her and Suguru, and Sukuna who lurks at the edges of the party, partaking in food and the alcohol, even if Satoru doubts he’s of age. The sun beats down, Satoru braids Suguru’s hair, and then they doze together.
When the sun starts to go down, Nobara leaves with her mom, waving enthusiastically at Megumi, demanding he makes another party next year too. Her chattering can be heard even after she’s taken off with her mom. Yuji goes home not long after, he hugs Megumi tightly, wrapping light pink wings around him, just to be sure it’s extra tight. Sukuna hands Satoru a piece of paper with his cell number written on it and mumbles an awkward ‘thank you,’ before he picks his little brother up like a sack of potatoes and takes to the sky.
Eventually it’s just Megumi, Satoru, and the orange bleached sky. There’s a little bit more of a breeze now. Cooling, bringing in the smell of the on coming night.
“Satoru,”Megumi says as they sit in the grass.
“Yeah?”
The chick gets to his feet, “Come on. I’ve got something to show you.”
Satoru follows the chick further into the park along a runners trail. There’s a wetland along the back of the park, and frogs chorus low songs as they walk across a bridge. Megumi steps off the well worn path into a crop of cat tails. Satoru glances behind them once as he follows the kid. They push through foliage until they’ve ended up on a golf course that Satoru is certain is not part of the park anymore.
“Uh, Turtle? Where are we going?”
“Jus come on.”
They climb up a perfectly maintained green hill. Impressively tall for the rest of the landscape. The skyscrapers across the city are visible over the trees from where they are. Megumi takes a deep breath and unfurls his wings. The breeze catches his feathers and he looks up at Satoru.
“Open your wings.”
Satoru copies his chick. His wings unfold to their full span. The wind whispers through each feather, flipping them, straightening them. Satoru’s hair is pushed back from his forehead, the wind dragging her fingers through it. He laughs into the sunset, the yellow and orange eating away the clear blue. It feels like gliding, even with his feet planted firmly on the ground. His feathers move like he’s flying out towards the sinking sun. The glare catching in his eyes, and turning the edges of his feathers opalescent. It smells like freedom, Satoru thinks he can taste it on the back of his tongue when he laughs.
Megumi reaches up and takes his hand. Black wings are still unfolded, rippling in the breeze just like Satoru’s. They face the sunset and fly with their feet in the grass.