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Once upon a time, there was a messenger pigeon named Osamu, who delivers scathing reviews of the Pigeon Wagon to Bird Bible Updates where followers of the Jesuspigeon preaches the Word of Bird. He can do anything an average messenger pigeon can do, and he has a boring life where he eats seeds and gets angry at his twin Pigeon Brother, Atsumu, but we’re not talking about him or his equally eccentric pigeon boyfriend Sakusa.
The REAL story starts when Osamu flew into the museum one day to deliver the news about the Fine Pigeons auction, where word about a new painting arrived. The laypigeon, bird and fluff alike, cooed about it all week. Finally it was here.
Curiosity piqued at this average grey feathered anime-esque pigeon. While he's usually not interested in anything art-related, mostly too busy delivering every letter possible from anonymous mail to strong word to follow threats to small fowl art businesses (SMFART, for short.), this painting has every beak and feather moving to see just what it is.
So what is it?
Osamu vaguely remembers being told he could take the day off to see the painting. An auction was held in MOFP, and it was nothing like the scratches of black charcoal to drops of paint and poop on leaves.
No.
As Osamu peers in through the perching window, claws clinging onto the audience seat, he catches a glimpse of the painting, shrouded in darkness if not for the heavy black cloth over it. Darn.
…
When he's about to depart, deciding that it's not worth his bird life span, he pauses mid-wing-flight.
A pigeon hopped into the auction, head bobbing towards the painting. He had markings that parted at the front of his tiny little bird head.
"Coo crr crrrr! Crrr!" A pigeon beside Osamu cooed in excitement.
Art critic, eh?
Aren't they all snobby anyway? What's a society without messenger pigeons? Chaos. But art critics?
Silent, he watches the auction commence. There's some cooing and chirping about the formalities and introductions, and the name of the art critic Suna pops up.
Suna…
Suna the art critic snobby pigeon hops up to the stage. The pigeons beside Osamu lean in for a closer look. Thinking it might be customary to do so, he does the same.
"Crrr coo coocrrr rrrr rrr coo," he starts. His chirps are strong and so is his poise, as a poised pigeon is as poised pigeons are concerned. "Ccrrr. Coo. Coo."
What?!
Suddenly the pigeons around Osamu chirp in shock. Appalling! The painting was made by none other than Da Pigeonci, and it was a copy! A fake! How horrid!!!
Someone used the pigeon’s name in vain!
Something bubbled within Osamu’s tiny little pigeon bird body. Something like… something like… hunger! But worse! But he’s actually hungry!!!!!
Suna the (kind of handsome) pigeon left the scene. Osamu trails after him, and follows.
Flap flap goes his wings.
As Suna hops and bops out of the building, now that the flocks of pigeons have dispersed, Osamu hops in his way. The timing is impeccable given that Osamu so happens to hop right on time when Suna hops out of the MOFP, much like the beat of a drum to a festival somewhere far off that humans do that pigeons cannot understand, but can to an extent, ever.
“Crr?” Suna inquires. (Translation: How may I help you?)
“Coo,” Osamu replies. He has questions. (Translation: I don’t think the painting is fake. You don’t want the MOFP to have their beaks on it.)
“Coo, crrccrrroo coo,” Suna coos. He looks deep in thought before he bobs his head at Osamu. “Cooooo! Coo coo!!” (Translation: Ah. I know your type. You’re a self-certified art critic after watching one auction. Or you’re a student!)
“CrrRR?? Coo!!!!!” (Translation: What?? No!!!??)
“Corrccrr,” the art critic Suna laughs, except pigeons can’t really laugh, so he coos in amusement. “Cocrr. Coo coo.” (Translation: LMAO. Just kidding. Meet me elsewhere. I’ll explain it to you.)
There’s a beat of silence followed by Suna’s coo. It’s soft, but firm.
“Coocrrc.”
Osamu lights up. Sweet.
A second location probably meant that Suna didn’t want extra birds to eavesdrop on them, so they meet somewhere in the altitude that won’t make them easy prey or something. Bird society.
It’s a tree. Not just any tree, Suna had cooed beforehand, hopping and occasionally using his wings to lift his pigeon up every branch. It’s a tree that protects pigeons, it’s not really noisy, and there aren’t many predators that come by.
“Cororr,” (Translation: Sometimes there’s predators.)
“Crr,” Osamu intones, hopping onto a tree branch as he looks up at Suna. He’s facing away from him, tiny bird head facing the horizon.
“Coo,” he simply replies.
“Ccrrr, crr crrccr,” he rumbles. Osamu decides to hop up onto the same branch as Suna. His robust chonky bird body makes no dent onto the sturdy branch.
“Coo.”
“Coo.”
“Crr coo coo?”
"Crr," Suna confirms with a grave coo. He nudges something out of his bag, slung over his pigeon. Curiosity takes over Osamu simply because he smells it first.
Onigiri… Onigiri!
He reaches his beak in and pecks directly into it.
SO GOOD.
SO GOOD!!!!
"CCRCRCCOO. Coo," Ahem. If anything, Suna's more amused than judgemental.
"Coo coo crrr," he cooes. Osamu blinks his pigeon eyes at him.
"Crroo?"
"Crrooo."
Sweet.
"Crr. Coo coo crrr ooo oo. Crrrooo coo coo ccoo coo cooo coo crr coo. Crr r ccoo coo cooo crrcoo crrrcccoo. Coor ccrrrooo ccoo rrccooo coo cooo coooo, ccrrooo coo coo coo coo coo coo coo coo coo crr crroo corroooo cccorrooo," (Okay. I said it was fake because Da Pigeonci's works weren't getting recognition it deserved. The new ones, anyway. The fake is just to bring more attention to him to prove that his works still have value.)
Osamu paused. In his little tiny bird head with his round and soft chonky pigeon bird body, he blinks. Then pecks at the onigiri. Ooo! Nori! Scrumptious.
"Ccooo??" (Translation: Does anyone else know?)
"Crroo coo, coo COOFP." (Translation: Me, you, and the owner of MOFP.) Suna nudges the onigiri closer towards Osamu. As he pulls back, he upturns his beak at him.
"Coo coo. Crrroo crrr." (Translation: We just met, but I think I can trust you not to give this away.)
"Coo??" (Translation: Really????)
"Crr." (Translation: Really.)
Is this goodbye? Osamu watches Suna create distance. At first he had the impression that art critics were just snobs who looked down on laypigeons and fluffy birds alike, but Da Pigeonci is no ordinary pigeon, and it seems like Suna is on a bigger mission than he had assumed of him.
He feels bad…
Suna's facing away from him. He watches the tuft of tail feathers flutter as he spreads his wings.
"Coo!" (Translation: Wait!)
Suna pauses mid-wing-span-flight-or-something. He bobs his little tiny pigeon bird head to face Osamu. "Crr?" (Translation: Hmm?)
"Coo. Coo coo?" (Translation: [Pause.] Will I see you again?)
"Coororrr." (Translation: Ha. You know where to find me.)
He turns away, and flaps his wings, and leaves. Each individual feather fans out, glimmering in the sunlight. Rays that deem too bright to Osamu suddenly dazzle in his little tiny pigeon eyes. The air around them disturbs when Suna flaps his wings once, twice, and three times, lifting off gracefully. He watches his bird shape in flight matches the horizontality of the horizon. Or clouds. Clouds and stuff.
Damn… Now that is a beautiful take-off.
Osamu didn't know art critics have such beautiful tufts of feathers.
Or is it just Suna?
Maybe just Suna. The rest of the art critics look like regular pigeons. Suna has feathery hair. Or hairy feathers? Or something. Who knows. Osamu’s just a messenger pigeon. It’s not like the story is skewed to only have him and his closest friends and family be the only anime-esque pigeons.
Sounds stupid.
For the nights that follow, Osamu thinks about the way Suna flies. And somewhere in his lovely little fluffy round pigeon body, he feels warmer than his own feathers could provide.
-
Something happened.
Suna isn’t sure at which point it changed for him. His feathers are as unbothered as ever, his criticisms as criticising as ever, he left pigeons flying for their money, the Daily Bird leaves reviews for art pieces that follow his word…
And Suna thinks about that simple messenger bird, who pecks at the onigiri like a drill because it is that good. He almost thought he was an oversized, handsome, dashing woodpecker.
Onigiri-pecker.
Is it really that good? He isn’t one to eat for pleasure, but this pigeon ate like it was made of gold. Though pigeons can’t eat gold. Neither can anybird of fluff and feather.
Either way, he works at the MOFP, and if Osamu wanted to see him again, he knows where to find him.
And find him he did.
Osamu hops into the museum, plain in his feathers but the messenger bag slung over his pigeon. He’s looking around, head bobbing about, not very subtle in searching for the very object of his…
Hmm.
Suna waits. “Crr?” He coos softly. Osamu turns to him immediately, and doesn’t hide the way he looks excited as he comes over.
“Coo.”
“Coo…?”
“Coo!”
Okay. There’s no reason for him to even see him, except to see him.
“Crroo,” Osamu coos, then pulls out a letter. Oh.
Immediately Suna’s little pigeon mind races. Is it a newspaper excerpt, dragging his name for filth? A sonata of praises from one of his student pigeons of art critics? A review of the painting he recently critiqued, somehow managing to dispel AND give a compelling argument to his claims? Is there a higher pigeon out there to specifically give his position away? Are they able to prove that he is indeed a Da Pigeonci stan!!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?
NOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Osamu tilts his head.
Suna takes it in his beak. “Crbrbu.”
And because pigeons are good at opening letters, he opens the letter without any questionable logistics because pigeons are good at opening letters.
Oh.
It’s a letter from Osamu.
As he turns his head, Osamu’s hiding behind one of the pigeon artworks. It has paint splatters on it. But he can be clearly seen through the silhouette of it.
He’s shy…?
That is cute.
So he reads it.
‘Dear Suna,
I think you’re kinda coo(l). I tried to write with my beak but I’m not a good artist and I’m not good at criticising art but you didn’t judge me when I ate the onigiri like a woodpecker and my brother calls me a woodpecker when I eat and I don’t like that. Anyway, I’m happy to see you again.
I hope you can read my paint. I did my best. I hope we can date. If not, then we can be pigeonfriends on PigeonBook.’
And best he did.
The signature was of Osamu sitting on the paper. It’s round and beautiful.
That seals it.
That was the moment.
Suna didn’t need to think of the next thing to do, because he’s strutting over, wiggling his pigeon body, feathers shining, and he’s in front of the object of his affection. Osamu’s bobbing his head at anywhere but him.
“Cooou.” (Translation: Osamu.)
“Crrr?”
“Crooo coo coo coo,” (Translation: I read your letter. It was romantic. I would love to date you.) Suna leans in, and bumps his beak on Osamu’s.
“CCRROOCOOOCOOOOCOCO??????????????????”
“Crr.”
They dated for a long time, got married by the name of the gay Jesuspigeon priest bird. Osamu continues to write romantic letters to Suna, even though they could be huddling next to each other. Suna criticises art less and compliments Osamu more. He responds to each letter with a little beak kiss, and Osamu sometimes hides his head into his feathers.
They lived happily ever after. The end.