Work Text:
Shirou never was much of a cook, much less a baker. Despite being a thousand years old, he had never quite mastered how to balance combining flavors and textures in ways that beastmen other than himself found appealing, never found it worth his time to keep track of cumin and oregano and turmeric and all those other things he found in the kitchen but never used. Anyway, he got enough money from the mayor that purchasing food was never an issue, and Melissa was always generous in inviting him to eat with her and Gem.
But when Michiru’s nineteenth birthday arrived, he felt like he wanted to do something for her.
A year ago, he had been unused to her presence, unused to having someone tag along whenever the mayor had a criminal to take down, some snake exploiting naive raccoons in an elaborate pyramid scheme. He didn’t need her. He had been working by himself for so long, and he felt that soon enough, she would figure out how to become human again and depart from Animacity, like any other human would.
Even so, after one fight after another in which her bird wings allowed him to catch up to an airborne foe or her gorilla arms pummeled a henchman who was trying to catch him off guard, he found himself getting used to having her around. They didn’t always see eye-to-eye and sometimes argue about the best way to approach situations. But he found that she was worthy of his trust more often than not.
Plus, he would probably never tell her, but he was impressed by her unwavering desire to help other beastmen. What right did he have to stop her from trying?
And, against all his expectations, she stayed in Animacity, even after a serum to change her back to a human was finally developed. Soon her absence, usually when she was spending time with Nazuna, or if she was recovering from one of the more severe injuries she received, became what was foreign, so quietly that he didn’t even realize until it had already happened. It began to feel off to be awoken by Kuro’s crowing and not see her groggy and bed-haired at the dining table. And when he was spared her teasing for a day, he felt more unsettled than relieved.
It had been a little more than a year that she had been living in Animacity with him, Melissa, and Gem, and it felt wrong to not do something to acknowledge that.
It was a rare day when there were no felons to apprehend, so he decided to bake a cake.
He knew she devoured any and all desserts Melissa and Gem would bake, and she always brought home tea with lots of condensed milk added when she and Nazuna would have their weekly hang out, so he figured she’d love the enormous amounts of sugar he knew was in cakes. And even more than the sweet buns or cookies he would sometimes bring home from the bakery, Michiru seemed to like fresh strawberries the most (“They’re definitely the best topped with whipped cream!” he could hear her saying, even though whipped cream was disgusting). A strawberry cake seemed to make the most sense.
Strawberries sliced into halves, a yellow sponge, and light cream. He had seen it enough in bakery windows to know what it should probably look like, and it seemed simple enough. He knew that Michiru and Nazuna were going to a karaoke bar in the afternoon before Michiru’s birthday dinner, so he had the perfect window of opportunity to bake it in secret.
Fresh strawberries were even on sale at the market.
Shirou knew Michiru had many friends in Animacity, but it wasn’t until he was sitting next to them all around a dining table made for four that he realized just how many she had; both he and Michiru had to bring chairs in from their rooms for there to be enough seats. Not only Jackie, whom he had seen Michiru hanging around from time to time, but a couple of other Bears were present, as were a chimpanzee whom Michiru apparently met playing pick-up basketball, Flip’s daughter Nina, and, of course, Melissa, Gem, and Nazuna. He was almost surprised Marie wasn’t there, but he suspected she had other business to handle and maybe didn’t feel comfortable eating dinner with someone working for the mayor.
It could be hard to make food for so many different species—some beastmen ate the meat of other animals, some beastmen found the concept abhorrent—but Melissa and Gem worked assiduously to craft a meal that had something to please all attendees.
Even though Shirou spent the meal silently sandwiched between the two Bears players whose names escaped him, he did not fail to feel the warmth in the room. He noticed how Michiru giggled at the 15 second videos Nina had filmed, and how joy brightened her face when she related her time singing with Nazuna during karaoke earlier that day (and indeed, her voice was slightly hoarse all throughout the night). And he couldn’t deny that it was encouraging to see how Michiru, even being originally human, had been able to form such relationships with so many beastmen.
After dinner, they played charades at Nina’s request: Michiru helming one team (the three bears plus Nina) and Nazuna the other (everyone else, including Shirou). Shirou rarely liked to play games, and usually only those involving one other person and physical exercise in some way, but he participated begrudgingly after Michiru asked if he was afraid to lose. She fell down to the floor with laughter when he tried to act out an elephant drinking out of a water hole. Even though he retorted that the only way her team was able to guess her giraffe was from her using her powers to extend her neck, he realized he rarely saw her laugh in such an unfettered way.
Although sadness was hardly part of her disposition, Shirou knew there were times when Michiru could grow pensive or unsure of herself, when she would want to just spend long stretches of time by herself, just thinking. It was refreshing to see her so carefree for so long.
“Seems like it’s about time to serve the cake!” Melissa said, after Nazuna’s superb acting carried her team to victory.
The Bears perked up, having started to doze off from digesting all the food they had eaten.
“I’m so excited,” Jackie said, her already large eyes widening. “Is it from Badger Bakeries? I heard they’re really good, but I’ve never been able to afford their cakes.”
“Actually,” Melissa said, her eyes briefly flickering to meet Shirou’s, who looked away, “this one’s homemade, but the baker wants to be kept secret.”
Shirou noticed that Michiru, who had been in the midst of a conversation about shooting technique with the chimpanzee, looked up at Melissa’s words with curiosity. He watched her as Melissa and Gem went into the kitchen to take out the cake with plates and utensils. The other beastmen reconvened around the dining table, ready to eat dessert.
Shirou was the kind of beastman whose heart rate rose more often because of fighting than because of any emotion he felt, yet he found his heart beating as the Horners, after an unnerving amount of time, emerged with the cake and set it down in front of Michiru.
Part of that may have been from reactions of awe he heard from the beastmen around him—although it was his first attempt at such a cake, he was proud of his work. He never missed, it seemed, whether it was saving beastmen or baking cakes. The sponge turned out light and moist out of the oven, and somehow the whipped cream wasn’t as repulsive as it normally was when combined with the cake.
But another part of those feelings came from his interest in how Michiru would like the cake. Anyone sensible would, he thought, if they spent the better part of the afternoon making something like that.
Yet when Michiru saw the cake, what he saw face first a moment of shock, and then, more bewilderingly, the sad, far off look that only appeared when she was ruminating about something.
No one commented on it. By the time the beastmen had sung their traditional birthday song and Nazuna urged her to make a wish and blow out the candles, a smile had reappeared. She blew out the candles with apparent gusto, to cheers from her friends.
Nina exclaimed that they should all take a group picture around the cake for her followers (“And for Michiru’s memories, of course!”), and soon enough Shirou found himself next to the chimpanzee man cramped in the back row of the picture, his own head barely in the shot according to Gem, the photographer.
Michiru, in the front row next to Nazuna and Jackie, only the back of her head visible to him, felt far, far away.
After eating cake was opening presents (two basketballs, a baseball glove, an air pump, and pricy new running shoes from Melissa and Gem), and after opening presents, sleepiness from digesting the dinner and cake caught up to the beastmen.
Soon enough, the night was over and only Nazuna, Gem, Melissa, and Shirou were left. Nazuna stuck around longer, helping to clean the mess that the guests had made, washing plates carelessly left on sofas and soaking up whipped cream that had dripped onto the carpet. Being an idol, she knew how much unappreciated labor went into preparing things to make other people happy, and she wanted to lend a hand to her best friend. With her help, they were able to restore the house to its normal, clean state before midnight, and Melissa and Gem retired to their room.
“Happy birthday, Michiru!” Nazuna said, as she stood in the doorway, about to head home.
“Thanks for everything, Nazuna,” Michiru said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Shirou, lounging on the living room couch with his arms crossed and Kuro perched on his shoulder, watched them hug and saw Michiru stare after Nazuna for a few seconds after she started walking away before shutting the door.
The only light in the living room came from the moon gently shining through the windows. Shirou was sure that Gem and Melissa were fast asleep, exhausted from the party, but he and Michiru always slept a little bit later than they did.
“I didn’t know you baked, Shirou-san,” Michiru said, sitting down next to him.
“Hm?”
“It was so tasty—the strawberries were so sweet, and I was really impressed at how good the whipped cream was. I always thought you didn’t like it that much.”
“. . . I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Michiru laughed. “Aren’t you going to say, ‘How did you figure it out, Michiru?’”
Shirou’s eyebrows twitched, and he almost felt like Kuro was laughing on his shoulder. This girl . . . He sighed. “How did you know?” he finally said, dully.
“I noticed there were some white specks of stuff on your jacket sleeves when you were doing your sad imitation of an elephant trunk. You should get an apron if you’re going to be baking a lot.”
Shirou tsked, looking at the bottom of his sleeves and seeing that there were, indeed, granules of sugar still stuck on them.
Michiru continued: "I knew if Nazuna had made it, she would have wanted everyone to know. And did you forget I can imitate your sense of smell?”
He couldn’t help but smirk. Indeed, he had forgotten about that. “You clever tanuki.”
Michiru grinned, and then deflated. She looked pensive for a moment. Then she said, “Thank you for the cake, Shirou-san. It means a lot to me.”
“It was barely anything.”
“Don’t say that—it was really thoughtful.” He saw that far off look again—the same one she had when she had first seen the cake earlier.
He thought about asking her about it, wanted to know what had made her so sad, but he was more comfortable with silences than she was, and he knew that she often needed to have time before saying something.
“My mom used to make cakes like the one you made,” she finally said. “I know you must have put a lot of effort into it; it always took her whole days to make hers.
“I was really surprised when I saw it—for just a second, I thought that maybe my mom had made it for me, that she and dad had come to find me in Animacity. And I felt kind of silly.”
Shirou listened, nodding his head.
“Did I ever tell you? My mom actually made a cake for me last year, even though I wasn’t at home for my birthday. She posted a picture of it online, maybe in case I would see it. It was almost exactly like your cake! I wished I could have eaten it. I wish I could’ve told her I appreciated it.”
“I see.” He knew she had parents that she had left to come to Animacity, had heard her speak offhandedly of her father’s love of singing while doing chores and her mother’s interest in Asian dramas.
He knew that there had been a time when she had wanted nothing more than to return to being human and to go home. He had been dismissive of her then, thinking of her desire reflecting nothing more than a human being a typical human, unwilling to consort with beastmen. He realized he had forgotten that she had a whole world that she left behind when she came to Animacity, that she had had friends other than Nazuna that she missed, a team she had played basketball with, a school that she would never graduate from. So often she just seemed like Michiru, the human-turned-tanuki who loved basketball and sometimes forgot to close cabinets but who always was willing to help out, whether it was cleaning the house or fighting off criminals.
He suddenly felt guilty. She had put so much effort into trying to understand beastmen, trying to understand him—how much effort had he put in? He had grown so used to Michiru’s presence that he had forgotten what she was giving up by staying in Animacity.
“What is your mother like?” he asked.
Michiru seemed surprised by the question, but then her face brightened. “She’s super, super stubborn; it always takes forever for her to change her mind about something once she’s decided. My dad would sometimes say that I get my stubborn streak from her. But she would always give food to the neighbors when she made extra, and she cheered for me all the time at my games. Whenever Nazuna and I fought, she was always there to listen. And also to give me strawberries, already washed and cut,” she added with a chuckle.
“Do you miss them?”
“Of course I do,” she said without missing a beat. “Every day.”
Shirou nodded but kept silent; it seemed she had more to say.
“. . . Recently, I’ve been thinking more about leaving Animacity again.”
His hands tensed. He felt surprised, even though he didn’t think he should. “I see.”
“I feel silly. I had felt so decided before that I would stay, that there were things only I could do here. But now it’s been over a year, and I’m not as sure anymore.
“I’m really grateful I have Nazuna here with me, someone who knew me before.” She doesn’t say before what, but he knows she means. “And Melissa and Gem are so kind and caring. And I’ve had so much fun getting to know all the beastmen I’ve met, and I want to keep learning more about beastmen. I know there’s so much I still have to learn.
“But sometimes, like when I go to Nina’s and see how much her dad loves her, I wonder how much older my parents will have gotten the next time I see them.” He noticed her eyes started to brighten with tears. “They might grow old, and I won’t be there.”
He gave her some time to sob, for the tears to flow. He thought about doing something to comfort her, but he wasn’t sure if she’d want that. He wondered how long she had been holding this all in. Certainly, he was no stranger to bearing heavy burdens unspoken.
“Can you not visit?” he asked after she seemed to be calmer.
“Yeah. But part of me worries that if I visit, I won’t be able to return to Animacity.” She lifted her knees and tucked them under her arms. “I won’t be able to leave my family another time, when I know that I could just transform into a human and live with them like before.”
“Things are different now,” he said. “You’re trying to figure out how to live your life with those differences.” He understood that too well. When he was resurrected as Ginrou, he couldn’t imagine how to live life as a normal beastman the way he had before. He had to give himself a new purpose, whether that came through avenging beastmen or protecting them.
“Yeah, exactly,” she said, giving him a slight smile. “I’m so different now, and not just because I’m a beastmen. Even now, it feels weird to be in my human form.”
After a moment, she added: “You know, Shirou-san, you can be surprisingly perceptive sometimes. I guess it’s your ‘wild intuition’ at work.”
He frowned. “What do you mean by ‘surprisingly’?”
“Haha, nothing.” Then, more soberly, “Well, I guess I wasn’t sure if you’d understand.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t tried to understand earlier.”
“Oh, it’s okay, it’s not your fault.”
“No, I mean it. I can see you’re trying hard to understand beastmen—it’s not much to ask for me to try to understand you better, too.”
Michiru’s cheeks seem to redden slightly in the soft moonlight, but he wasn’t sure if that was his imagination. He also felt himself growing a bit hotter for some reason. While they certainly spent time alone together before, he realized it was rare that they would be together this late, when the rest of Animacity was asleep.
Then, she giggled. “Shirou-san, you’re so straightforward. I’m a bit envious. I feel so unsure right now of what to do—whether I should stay or go. . . What do you think I should do, Shirou-san?”
He considered her. “It’s your decision in the end. Your family is clearly important to you, and so are the beastmen you met here. If I were you, I would try to live my life in a way such that I can hold on to both. Even if it means doing something new or uncomfortable.”
“Even if it means doing something new or uncomfortable. . . yeah, I think you’re right.” Her eyes gleamed with something like resolve. “I don’t have to give up my parents or what I love right now. I can start a new path that lets me keep both.”
“Indeed.”
“Thanks for listening, Shirou-san.”
“I’m here if you need me.”
She looked down at the carpet, and he wondered why. “You know, when I was thinking about leaving Animacity, I think one of the biggest things on my mind was that I wouldn’t be able to help you out anymore.”
“You don’t need to be concerned about helping me.”
“No, dummy, that’s not what I mean. . . I think I’d miss you, y’know?”
Oh. That’s what she meant. He wished he knew what to say. He wasn’t used to anyone missing him.
Michiru was silent, and she had the far off look again.
Shirou wasn’t used to missing anyone. In his thousand years, beastmen came into and left his life so regularly; it was hardly worth getting attached. The mayor was probably the person who had stayed in his life the longest, and even then, how long would she?
Yet he remembered that warmth in his chest when Michiru had told him she was staying in Animacity—something he could only remember feeling at Animacity’s 10th anniversary festival—and that sense of disquiet he would get if she didn’t join him on one of his cases, even if he was perfectly fine handling the criminal by himself.
He knew if she did leave Animacity, he would survive; he could keep living his life, keep helping beastmen. But he’d be lying if he didn’t say he preferred to have her around.
“I’d miss you too,” he said softly.
Wherever she had gone in her mind during the time of silence, his words pulled her back from. “Shirou-san. . . “ she said, almost in awe, and then, a few seconds later, even redder than before, she grabbed his hand, which he had been resting on the sofa between them..
“Wha-what?” he exclaimed, louder than intended. Even Kuro flew off his shoulder, apparently to another room. He hoped the Horners were still asleep.
That was not what Shirou expected her to do.
“Ahhhhh! I’m such an idiot,” she said, letting his hand go and burying her face between her knees. “Nazuna said I should just go for it.”
“Nazuna said. . . ?”
He was starting to understand now. How happy Michiru would get whenever he invited her on a mission. How she yelled at him for trying to go after that one rampaging beastman by himself, even though he couldn’t die. How even though he had stopped celebrating his own birthday centuries ago, she had bought him something anyway. All the teasing.
For how long had she. . .?
It wasn’t that the thought had never crossed his mind. He had lived long enough to see relationships start and end, had had his own infatuations before he was killed.
But it had been so long since he allowed himself to feel anything like love. Something about it felt intensely vulnerable, in a way he wouldn’t feel when fighting the toughest enemy.
The last time he had felt such fear was when he thought he had killed Michiru.
“Michiru.”
“Y-yes!” she said, finally looking up again.
“I. . . I’m not someone you can settle down with. I’m not someone you can grow old with, like how your parents will grow old together. If you leave Animacity to live with your parents, I cannot go with you. My life is dedicated to serving beastmen. From now until you inevitably die.
Her brows furrowed. “I know, Shiro-san. I know. I’ve thought about all those things. And I still want to be by your side. I still want to protect beastmen with you. I still want my parents to know you. But if you don’t want the same, please just tell me.”
Unlike earlier, when her face had been buried between her knees, she was staring intensely at him, unafraid. Love, he realized, was Michiru’s source of strength.
It was hard for him to express what others meant to him, much less what Michiru meant to him. Words always felt too vaporous, too insubstantial for the things he wanted to convey. It was much more natural for him to express himself through his actions.
He reached out his hand, the one she had tried to grab earlier, to hold hers. He felt her tense and then relax in his grip. Her hands had callouses, her fingers longer than he expected.
They stayed like that for a while, not speaking, as the light of the moon shone.
When Melissa and Gem awoke in the morning, well-rested from the night before, they found the pair on the couch still, a rare, peaceful expression on Shirou’s face, and Michiru’s head, hair disheveled, leaning on his shoulder.