hi it's me again I hope I'm not bothering but I haven't had the chance to read the light novel bc I've been very busy,but I did have a question I wanted to ask but I looked through your FAQ and I still couldn't find the answer so I hope you aren't annoyed I'm here again !
but basically I cannot remember in which exact ep it was but it was when shion and nezumi finally met up with safu but she wasn't herself anymore and nezumi practically forced shion in the elevator and then it exploded,in that scene when shion started to get mad at nezumi saying "this was your plan all along to use her" and shion was very upset blaming nezumi remember? well nezumi obviously did all this because he genuinely cared for shin right? so I'm confused as to why he started saying "yeah I did" and basically started to make himself look like the bad guy? What exactly did he wish to even accomplish with that? and he was cut off but he was gonna say something and I've always wondered what it was that he was going to say? that whole scene in general left me a little confused I really hope you could explain what it was that the author was trying to tell us,sorry I'm very slow and I cannot understand "hints/clues" if it's not said out loud I won't understand😪
Hello anon,
One of our members has written a meta post about just this very question!
Tl;dr: So no. I don’t think Nezumi killed Safu on purpose. He wanted to give Shion an outlet for his emotions, and a physical person to blame so that way he could stand, rise, and have something in him to get him to move and get out of the correctional facility before it crumbled and took him with it.
Sandy also added to it and said: It gives Shion an outlet, definitely, to vent his grief, and a way for them to get moving–this is absolutely true–but I’m also inclined to think that Nezumi, after hearing the one person who’s thought well of him and believed in him and trusted him, accuse him so harshly, begins to retreat into blaming himself and confirming Shion’s doubts because, even if it’s what Safu wanted, Shion may never forgive him after this. So better to make him hate him as a coping mechanism, like Nezumi did with No.6, instead of reconcile by justifying murder.
Sion had never thought of kissing anyone else before. His heart, his soul, his mind belonged to Nezumi. Yet, something has crawled within his chest and clawed at hugs insides. It left him aching, lonely, breathless, nothing but pain and agony moving through him. He found himself moving towards Aslan, unsure what he wanted. Slowly, carefully his hands reached for his cheeks and Sion leaned forward to give his friend a slow, yearning kiss, lips fluidly moving against the others. (Kiss prompt!)
Hit Me With Your Best Kiss.
Aslan too felt lonely at times. Though his romantic life could be a bit complicated, he still yearned for something more. Surprise was the general’s first reaction as the white haired teen kissed him so carefully. Not sure what to make of this himself, he still kissed Sion back. Just as smoothly, he moved his lips against his companion’s.
After a few minutes, Aslan broke off only to bite at Sion’s bottom lip. Slowly–he tugged and licked said lip before breaking off completely. Taking some deep breaths, he fell back on the couch. Covering his mouth with his hand, his golden irises flicked over to his friend. Blushing, he quirked one eyebrow curiously.
Hi Vox! Happy New Year! I’m sorry that this is a bit late! I had intended to work on this during Christmas break but I have been dreadfully ill for the past week and a half. Despite this, I have finally managed to finish this fic. I’m so excited for you to read it! I will also post it on AO3 soon for ease of reading. All of your ideas were perfect and I wish I could write a fic for each. For now, I hope you like this Winged AU based around the winged people I had created for one of my beloved OCs.
- - -
The Kííre were a winged people who held a vast love for the sky and harbored freedom within their souls. They were kind, thoughtful beings who were instinctually devoted to their families and flocks, often composed of their friends and closest loved ones. There had once been a time when they were hunted for their wings, their vast array of colors, sizes, and shapes bought and sold by those who searched for what they deemed to be a worthy bounty. However, this practice had long been banned, allowing the Kííre to now live long and prosperous lives.
Many of them took residence and shelter within a small area known as the Town of Roses. It was a picturesque haven named for the flowers that attracted numerous guests and travelers during the peak blooming season. Trade thrived, and those seeking respite within its boundaries departed revitalized, experiencing a hospitality unmatched by surrounding communities.
One place within the town that was frequented by visitors was Karan’s Bakery. The warm and welcoming scent of plush, freshly baked bread and sweet delicious cherry pie proved too enticing for those who passed the small shop, luring many in. It was akin to returning home after a long journey, a place in which you could easily find respite and eat delicious food, if only for a few precious moments.
It was here that Shion made a living by helping his mother, and on his days off, he usually enjoyed the company of his childhood friend, Safu. They had spent numerous days and evenings investigating every nook and cranny within their town, visiting shops, flying over the farmland, and speaking of their hopes and dreams for the future. They had lived a happy and comfortable life, one that would leave most people content and satisfied.
However, Shion couldn’t shake the yearning for something more—an indescribable tug within his soul.
Venturing into the nearby forest, Shion spent his time flying through the trees, observing animals and local fauna. He meticulously noted the changing seasons and remained attuned to shifts in the air. Beyond the canopy, he soared into the clouds, captivated by the wind in his feathers and the endless sky.
His mother often offered knowing smiles when he set out, attributing his behavior to that of a young and unpaired Kííre. She believed that once he found a partner, his person, he would settle down.
It must be understood that Kííre were destined to have only one lover in their lifetimes. If their love was unrequited, such was the course of their life. Karan had loved Shion’s father, and for a time, he believed he was her destined partner as well. Fate, however, had different plans, and he left. Karan then forged a life on her own.
Some Kííre found love with partners meant for others, while some never discovered their soulmates. It was a beautiful and varied tapestry of experiences for young pairs to find their other halves early, and for others to rejoice in the discovery later in life. Yet, some rebelled against their instincts, rejecting the idea of settling down and choosing to follow their own paths, remaining alone throughout their lives.
This was another, if unspoken, reason Shion had retreated into the woods. Safu had never spoken it aloud, but signs hinted that he might be her partner.
Recently, her voice had softened in his presence.
Sometimes, her hand would linger over his and she would lean just a bit closer than usual, their shoulders touching ever so slightly.
The most telling was the way her spotted feathers would flutter occasionally when she looked at him, her eyes reflecting emotions that had never been there before.
Karan had said it was immediately clear to her when she had found her partner and she believed that once Shion did, he would know as well. Usually, a pairing and finding of a loved one was a thing to be celebrated. But in cases like this, where he did not seem to love her in return—
Shion nearly collided with a large branch, bringing him back to the present. He paused to catch his breath, his white wings keeping him suspended in the air. His dark eyes focused on a torn piece of fabric caught on one of the branches. Beyond it stood a seemingly abandoned treehouse. However, upon closer inspection, he realized someone had been staying there.
He landed softly on the platform, surveying the area for any changes. While the exterior appeared unchanged, after opening the door, it was evident that the space was occupied. A blanket spread on the floor served as a makeshift bed, a small bag with spilled contents, extra clothing, a brush, a necklace, flowers, and something wrapped within a small cloth.
Notably, there were feathers—ones far too large to belong to a bird. Before he could fully process the discovery, a noise reached his ears too late. Suddenly, he found himself pinned against the wall, his arm twisted below his wings. A commanding yet neutral voice warned him not to move, promising consequences for disobedience. Despite the surprise, Shion remained still, impressed by the swift and efficient action.
“You must do this a lot,” he murmured, unable to keep his awe out of his voice.
There was a momentary pause before the hand restraining him released its grip, only to turn him around and pin him against the wall again, a knife pressed against his neck. This time, Shion could get a good look at his captor. The stranger had large, dark wings that Shion had never seen before, their color almost black. His eyes, a haunting gray, held a captivating beauty that made Shion feel as if he could get lost in them.
There was something else too. A strange warmth blossomed in his chest, akin to the sun breaking through after a long bout of dreary rain.
A crimson droplet fell to the ground, snapping Shion out of the trance. His eyes focused on the blood, and he spoke, breaking the silence. “I can treat your wound.” If the stranger heard him, he made no indication of it. The gray eyes remained unwavering, their intensity softening for a moment, resembling the tranquil surface of the ocean.
“I can treat your wound so it stops bleeding. I—”
The serenity vanished as the young man pulled away, leaving Shion with a strange sense of emptiness. Tucking his knife away in a single motion, the stranger appeared to find no threat in Shion. “I’ve already treated it.”
“Then why is it bleeding?” Shion questioned, his eyes returning to the dark wings. “Flying reopened the wound. If I could just—”
“I don’t need your help,” the stranger insisted, stepping backward when Shion approached.
“You’re a Kííre, aren’t you? So am I. Where did you come from? Why are you by yourself? Where is your flock?”
Just then, a tiny jar rolled out of the young man’s bag, seeming to have escaped the cloth. It was filled with three feathers of various sizes and colors and it became immediately clear to Shion why he was alone.
Kííre feathers were sacred. They were given to very few outsiders as a sign of respect, an indication that that person was considered family, an honorary member of a flock. When a family member died, they were put somewhere safe, and kept close in memory. Each Kííre’s feathers were unique. Even if everyone in a family had the same colored wings, it was easy to tell who they belonged to.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Shion whispered feebly, holding out the jar to the stranger, who quickly snatched it back.
There was a hint of sadness in the young man’s eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Get out.”
“Wait, I can help you—”
“I already told you I don’t need your help.”
“But the bleeding—” The young man ushered him out.
“I can take care of it.”
“At least allow me to bring you a meal?” They stared at each other, the stranger bewildered, Shion determined. Offering meals to those who lost a family member was a custom to ease their grief. Shion didn’t know when the tragedy occurred, but the raven-haired young man needed support. Alone, injured, and without the protection of a flock, he was vulnerable.
“Do you think I’m incapable of looking after myself?“
“I think,” Shion began, “that you are plenty capable. You showed me that just a moment ago. But you have to fly to catch and make meals, right? And if you continue to do so, your wound will only get worse. Eventually, you won’t be able to fly at all.”
He didn’t look surprised by this revelation. It was clear that this was a possibility he had considered, but he was left with no other options. Why he didn’t simply stop at town, Shion didn’t know. But surely there had to be some way to help him.
“My mother owns a bakery but she is also a wonderful cook. I can bring you soup… and cherry cake.”
“Cherry cake?”
Shion couldn’t help but smile. “It’s my favorite.”
–
Shion watched as the Kííre devoured the meal he had brought, his injured wing carefully wrapped despite protests and soft curses. He couldn’t help but wonder how far the young man had traveled, how long he had been on his own, and whether or not he was looking for a place to call home.
“You’re strange.”
“I’m strange?” Shion asked, surprised that he had started a conversation.
“You’ve asked me about nearly everything under the sun. Except for my name.”
“Oh. But I haven’t introduced myself either.”
“Shion, right? Like the flower?”
Shion’s eyes widened in surprise. There was no indication of his name anywhere and there was no way for the young man before him to know it. “Yeah. How did you know?”
“The wind told me.”
“The wind?” Shion paused, waiting for an answer that didn’t come. “My mother loves nature. She named me after her favorite flower.”
“Nezumi.”
“Huh?”
“My name.”
“Nezumi… that can’t be it.”
“Why not?”
Shion couldn’t quite explain, but it didn’t seem to fit him.
“Do you always travel alone and leave yourself open to an ambush? Or is it normal for all you settled Kííre to have zero sense of danger?” Nezumi continued, finishing the soup. “You guys can get along just fine without feeling any danger or fear toward intruders, huh?”
“I do feel danger. And fear, too. I’m afraid of dangerous things and I don’t want anything to do with them. I’m also not naive enough to believe that everyone is kind and has only the best intentions.”
“Then why did you help me?“ Nezumi asked, meeting his gaze.
Shion’s eyes held the pair of gray ones before him. He almost felt like they were laughing at him. As if they knew everything he had been through in his life, everything he was thinking and had ever thought. Did he know? Had Nezumi felt what he did earlier? If so, did he even care?
"You were bleeding. So… So I decided to treat you. And…”
“And?”
And his eyes and wings were a combination that Shion had never seen before. And they drew him in.
“And… I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t starve.”
Nezumi shrugged and took a bite of his mother’s famous cherry cake. After a moment, he spoke again.
“Can you give compliments to your mother for me? ”
“Sure. Of course, she would be happy to receive them.”
“Thank you.”
It was the first time Nezumi had shown any kind of gratitude.
–
Shion seamlessly incorporated Nezumi into his daily routine. The once solitary existence that Nezumi led now resonated with the soft steps of his presence, bringing not only sustenance but also a warmth that seemed to mend the fractures in Nezumi’s wounded wing.
Each day, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, Shion emerged from the forest, a tray in hand carrying a simple meal. Sometimes his mother made them and other times, he did. The aroma of the food preceded him, filling the air with a comforting scent. Often perched on a nearby branch, Nezumi would look up from his latest book or tinkering project, the stoic mask giving way to a subtle softening at the sight of his familiar figure approaching. When Shion had found out that he was fond of reading, he would make sure a book was on the tray as well. Nezumi’s wings were dark even in the sunlight, seeming to take in all light rather than reflect any of it, a stark contrast to his own, as white as the clouds in the blue sky above. Despite how clearly his ability to fly contrasted with Nezumi’s grounded state, the young man never appeared to be jealous. Instead, a shared understanding prevailed—an unspoken promise that they would be accepting of one another’s presence and try not to step on one another’s toes.
As days turned into weeks, Shion’s visits evolved beyond a mere exchange of food. The silence between them transformed into a comfortable companionship, a quiet understanding that transcended words. They discovered solace in the simplicity of each other’s company.
Occasionally they would lapse into long discussions, never deep, but friendly, usually starting with the book he had read and his thoughts and opinions on them. Most might find the necessity of bringing someone food a chore, but most days it was the one thing Shion looked forward to. Despite his responsibilities at his mother’s bakery and the time spent with Safu, these moments with Nezumi held a special place in Shion’s heart.
It had become apparent to others as well, especially Safu. She noticed the subtle shifts in Shion’s demeanor—the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of Nezumi and the genuine joy that graced his expression after returning from their shared moments within the shelter.
Safu, attuned to his every nuance due to their long-standing bond, could perceive the changes in his emotions. Though unspoken, she felt a twinge of something unfamiliar—a mix of curiosity and concern—whenever Shion mentioned Nezumi.
One day, as Shion recounted the latest book he brought for Nezumi, Safu couldn’t resist voicing the lingering, unspoken question in her mind. “Shion, do you think there’s something more between you and Nezumi?”
Shion hesitated, aware of her feelings, his gaze drifting to the distant horizon. “I don’t know, Safu.” It was the truth. He didn’t. While he had felt a myriad of sentiments toward Nezumi, he couldn’t be certain if the traveler felt anything in return. Was Nezumi his destined person? And if so, did he feel it too?
Was it reciprocated at all?
One evening, with the sun dipping below the horizon and painting the sky ablaze in orange and pink hues, Shion approached with a tray bearing a meal that surpassed what he usually brought. He could not be certain how Nezumi would take this offer, but he was willing to try regardless.
“I thought we could switch things up tonight,” Shion suggested, a small, hopeful smile playing on his lips.
Nezumi arched an eyebrow, curiosity evident in his gaze. “Switch things up?”
Shion nodded and gestured toward a blanket spread on the platform. “I thought we could eat under the stars.”
Nezumi studied Shion for a moment, his eyes flickering between the offered meal and the hopeful expression on Shion’s face. After a pause that seemed to stretch into eternity, Nezumi sighed, a barely perceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Fine, why not,” Nezumi conceded, his tone nonchalant as if he was doing Shion a favor. “Under the stars it is.”
Shion’s smile widened, relief washing over him. He set the tray on the blanket, the aroma of the carefully prepared food filling the air. The two settled down, the night around them hushed and serene.
Above them, the moonlight filtered through the branches, its glow creating scattered spots on the platform around them. Contrary to Shion’s expectation, Nezumi’s wings didn’t blend into the darkness; instead, they shimmered. Bathed in the moonlight, the wings exhibited an iridescence, reminiscent of a crow or raven’s wings—a captivating shade, not entirely blue or green. Witnessing this enchanting sight, Shion’s heart skipped a beat, a profound ache settling in his chest. Nezumi was a vision of beauty that left him breathless.
As they shared the meal, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Shion recounted tales of his life before meeting Nezumi, his eyes reflecting the light of the stars above. Nezumi, in turn, shared snippets of his nomadic existence, the challenges he faced, and the injury that had led him to the tiny house within the forest.
“Hunters?” Shion asked, bewildered. “Kííre have not been hunted in at least a century.”
“Not to your knowledge,” Nezumi scoffed, shaking his head. “The world isn’t all baked goods and roses. Even in a century, things can change. Or not at all. A foolish hunter decided I was a rare prize, not realizing winged creatures like us haven’t been on their menu for a while.”
Shion’s brows furrowed with concern. “But why? What drives them to hunt us after all this time?”
Nezumi sighed, a shadow passing over his eyes. “Greed, ignorance, the same old vices. Some people just can’t resist the temptation of capturing something they consider extraordinary, regardless of the consequences.”
Shion’s eyes darkened with frustration. “This is unacceptable, Nezumi. We’ve lived in peace for so long, thinking we were safe. Now you tell me hunters are after us again? We can’t let this happen. There has to be something we can do.”
Nezumi fixed him with an intense gaze. “What’s your plan, Shion? Are you proposing we declare war on the entire world? Every hunter out there? We’re just two winged beings struggling to survive in a world that perceives us as prey, as commodities with feathers to be bought and sold.”
“But we can’t just sit back and accept it! We have to do something,” Shion insisted, his voice rising.
“Doing something reckless will only make things worse,” Nezumi retorted, frustration evident in his tone. “We need to stay low, keep to ourselves. It’s the only way we’ll survive.”
Shion clenched his fists, his resolve unwavering. “I won’t live in fear, Nezumi. I don’t want anyone to. We can’t let them hunt us like animals. There has to be a way to make them understand, to coexist peacefully.”
Nezumi scoffed again, his expression hardened. “You’re naïve, Shion. This world won’t change overnight. It hasn’t even changed in a hundred years. If you go out there with your idealistic notions, you’ll get yourself killed.”
The argument hung in the air, tension thickening between them like an unspoken challenge.
“If hunters continue to come after us, even in secret, we will be killed. Maybe if we spread awareness—”
“My family was slaughtered by hunters, Shion. I’ve seen firsthand what they’re capable of. You want to march out there with your ideals, but you don’t understand the reality of it all.“
Shion’s expression softened, realizing the depth of Nezumi’s pain. Nezumi had never spoken of his family or explained what had happened to them. He never would have guessed that it was something like this. "I’m sorry, Nezumi. I didn’t mean to…”
In the distance, thunder cracked, foretelling an imminent storm. Clouds had begun their journey across the sky, forming dark patches that gradually obscured the moonlight above.
“Save your apologies,” Nezumi interrupted, his anger palpable. “You want to change the world? Fine. But I won’t be a martyr for your cause. I’ve spent years running, hiding, just to survive. Meanwhile, you’ve lived a comfortable life, helping your Mama in a bakery. I won’t let them take everything from me again.”
Shion’s frustration turned to empathy, but his determination didn’t waver. “I don’t want you to be a martyr, Nezumi. I want us to find a way for Kííre to live without constantly fearing for their lives. I had no idea this was happening outside of our town. It’s dangerous. Especially for a lone Kííre like you.”
Nezumi’s gaze hardened, a mix of sorrow and defiance in his eyes. “They already won, Shion. The moment they took everything from me. I won’t let them take anything more.”
A heavy silence followed, the weight of their conflicting ideals hanging in the air like an unbridgeable gap. It seemed that both of their appetites were gone. Shion had intended to begin speaking again but a droplet landing on his cheek stopped him. It had started to rain.
Nezumi was clearly done with the conversation and turned away. “I think you should go home, Shion.”
What else could he do but obey?
–
Upon returning home that evening, Shion found himself unable to sleep. Tossing and turning in bed, he immersed himself in a sea of guilt, their conversation leaving him with more questions than answers. It felt as though the entire world around him had shifted. The weight of their disagreement burdened him, taking a toll on his health. The next morning, he awoke to find himself too weak to leave home, the realization dawning that he had fallen ill.
As Shion lay in bed, the external world carried on, oblivious to his internal struggles. Concern for Nezumi was entrenched in his mind; his wing likely had healed sufficiently for him to fend for himself. Yet, the question lingered – who else could deliver food to him? While his mother knew of Nezumi, she lacked the familiarity with the forest to pinpoint his location. Safu, perhaps? However, it felt unkind to burden his best friend with the responsibility of bringing sustenance to the person who, in all likelihood, was his destined partner. Soon, Shion’s illness progressed to a point where such considerations slipped away, leaving him only aware of his mother’s comforting touch and the sound of her concerned voice as she attended to him.
Meanwhile, Nezumi, after several days of unsettling silence, found himself increasingly anxious. Shion had shifted from daily visits to complete absence. Could his own temperament have driven away the one who had saved him? No, Shion wouldn’t be so deeply wounded by that to the point of neglecting to bring food. Perhaps he had fallen prey to a hunter? No, Nezumi would have heard the discharge of a gun, and Shion was too astute, well-versed in the forest to be ensnared by a trap. His keen eyes and forest knowledge guarded against such pitfalls.
The growing concern gnawed at Nezumi until a realization struck him – Shion lived in the nearby town. Determined to check on his friend and mindful of his own healing injury, Nezumi resolved to venture into town to locate the bakery.
–
Finding the town proved effortless. The fragrance of blooming roses permeated the air, an inescapable scent even from a distance. The quaint charm of the location struck Nezumi as strange. While initial stares from some visitors fixated on his dark wings, their curiosity swiftly transformed into warmth. Greetings flowed, and offers of assistance followed — a place to stay, help with anything he might need. When he mentioned searching for Shion and Karan’s bakery, their eyes brightened with enthusiasm, eager to guide him to the desired destination.
It had been quite some time since Nezumi had navigated a small town like this, and the unfamiliarity made him feel out of place. Yet, with the guidance and support of the friendly citizens, tracking down the bakery proved to be a straightforward task.
A moment of hesitation gripped him as he stood outside the entrance, his gaze fixated on the closed sign. A nagging thought crossed his mind—had they left? It seemed illogical for them to abandon their livelihoods, especially considering their home appeared to be nestled just above it.
Summoning his resolve, he lifted his hand and rapped on the door. It creaked open, revealing a woman whose connection to Shion was immediately evident—they shared the same warm, brown eyes. Mother and son had collaborated to provide him with meals to sustain his life.
The woman offered him a small, apologetic smile. “We’re closed today, I’m sorry.”
“Is Shion here?” Nezumi inquired, his gaze searching her eyes for any hint of Shion’s whereabouts.
Karan’s expression shifted, her eyes catching his in a silent question as she looked up at him, clearly puzzled about how he knew her son. It didn’t take long for her to connect the dots as realization dawned. “Upstairs,” she gestured, concern etched on her face.
Following Karan’s lead, Nezumi arrived at Shion’s room. There, Shion lay in bed with a damp cloth draped over his forehead, breathing shallowly, clearly unwell. Nezumi was taken aback to notice that a few strands of Shion’s hair had started to change color. Additionally, a faint pink mark had begun to form along his skin.
“He’s been like this since he got back home.”
“Perhaps it was the rain, the storm. He returned home in the midst of it.” Nezumi walked over and positioned himself beside Shion, his demeanor softening.
As Karan observed Nezumi’s interaction with her son, she discerned the underlying reason for Shion’s eagerness to visit him daily and spend extended periods in his company. The nature of their connection became as clear as day to her.
“Nezumi,” she murmured, recognizing him without the need for confirmation. “Is there any way you can assist him? We’ve had a doctor visit, but the prescribed medicine hasn’t been effective.”
Nezumi recalled an illness that had affected some of the people within his flock when he was young. Although his memories were somewhat hazy, the recollection of the natural remedies his mother had frequently employed to aid him when he was ill had never left him.
He nodded, his gaze unwavering as he observed Shion’s weakened state. “I think I can help. I remember some herbs from my past that might ease his symptoms.”
Karan’s eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. “Please, do whatever you can. He’s been through so much. I’m desperate to see him well again.”
Determined to pay back the debt that he owed, Nezumi left the room and ventured into the forest, a mission to find the necessary ingredients clear in his mind. Upon returning, he carefully prepared a concoction, combining various plants known for their healing properties with items that Karan had gathered for him.
Once the remedy was completed, Nezumi gently lifted Shion’s head and helped him sip it. The room soon filled with the soothing aroma as Nezumi remained steadfast by Shion’s side, attentively monitoring his condition.
As Shion began to drift into a more restful sleep, Nezumi whispered words of comfort, “Rest now. I’m here, and we’ll get through this together.”
–
Days passed, but at last, there was an improvement in Shion’s condition.
When Shion finally woke, his now scarlet eyes met Nezumi’s concerned gaze. Relief washed over Nezumi, grateful that Shion had survived the illness, but a twinge of sadness tugged at him when he noticed scars on Shion’s skin. To survive was to be changed, he had once heard, but he couldn’t be sure how the young man would respond to this. For now, all that mattered was that he was well.
“Nezumi?” Shion’s voice, though weak, carried a sense of recognition and relief. He moved to sit up, unfolding his wings, sore from having rested underneath him, aching from a lack of use.
Nezumi found himself momentarily transfixed by the transformation in Shion’s appearance. The most captivating aspect was Shion’s wingtips, now a striking shade of red, serving as a visual testament to the transformative journey he had undertaken. His hair had turned a radiant white, reminiscent of starlight. In that instant, Nezumi’s initial concern evolved into a profound connection, leaving him with a heart brimming with admiration and perhaps something more.
With a soft smile, he replied, “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”
“I had the strangest dreams,” Shion responded, his gaze distant. “But waking up and seeing you here feels more surreal.” He took a moment to observe his surroundings. "I feel strange.” He glanced down at himself, his fingers gently tracing the scars on his skin. “What happened to me?”
“You were quite ill. But you’re a survivor, Shion. The scars, the changes, they’re proof of your strength.”
Shion’s gaze shifted to his wings, slightly taken aback by the sudden burst of color adorning the tips of his feathers. Nezumi reached out, laying a hand over Shion’s, intending to shield him from being overwhelmed too soon. His voice remained gentle, a source of comfort.
“It’s like a second chance at life,” Nezumi sought to reassure him. “But it might take time to adjust to these changes.”
Shion looked down at their joined hands, then gently slid his own into Nezumi’s. “I’m sorry. For what I said that night. I didn’t mean—”
Nezumi leaned in, silencing him with a tender kiss, leaving Shion’s cheeks tinged with a warm flush.
Nezumi pulled away, a soft smile playing on his lips. “No need for apologies, Shion. We’ve both been through a lot. What matters is that we’re here now.”
Shion returned the smile, gratitude shining in his eyes. “Thank you, Nezumi. For everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“I wasn’t going to let the world take something else from me.”
Nezumi extended his hand, delicately brushing his fingers over Shion’s freshly transformed feathers. It was a subtle yet profoundly intimate gesture.
“Does that mean you plan to stay?” Shion inquired, trying not to allow too much hope to seep into his voice. Aware of Nezumi’s penchant for travel and his aversion to being tied down, Shion understood that connections were often viewed as obstacles to Nezumi’s sense of freedom.
He could only hope he wasn’t seen as one.
“That depends,” Nezumi murmured, his tone playful. “If I decide to stay, can I count on getting more of your mother’s cherry cake?”
Shion’s eyes sparkled with a mix of hope and affection. “As much as you want. Maybe even a lifetime supply.”
Nezumi grinned, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “In that case, I might just consider staying around for a while.”
