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Shinya was a wild thing.
He was human, his blood free of supernatural influence, of magic other than that which seeped into every soul who lived and breathed. And yet, from the moment he learned how to toddle, he ran like he could fly. Like there were no barriers, no limits, and nothing holding him down.
There were, of course. His mother was a careless, self-centered woman who didn’t particularly care about her only son other than that he was hers and she probably should take care of him, shouldn’t she? The extent of her care was thieving interesting toys from the cruise ships she worked on for him, and keeping her drunken ass of a husband doing anything that would cross the line from harsh discipline to abuse. Whenever she was there, at least.
When she wasn’t, his father lost his leash. The only thing that stopped the abuse from being more than a smack or a handful of beatings was the silent threat of his mother’s retribution hovering around them. Though when she left for good, after Shinya had turned 12, the threat left too, leaving him with a black eye and broken collarbone he had to learn how to explain away.
His grandmother, though.
She was his mother’s mother, and nothing like the careless woman who’d brought him into the world. She taught him kindness and warmth and love with smiles and gentle head pats and hugs that felt like sunshine on the wind. She taught him how bread baked with love tasted like the sweetness of life, how dewdrops from flower petals held a magic in their routine, and how little things brought joy if only he opened his eyes to see.
She was a careful woman, too, though. She’d lost her kind husband to a malicious trick from something other than them, so she’d learned about them in order to keep her precious people safe and she taught him the same. She taught him how to guard his name, how to twist words so no one could trap him in them, how to leave cream out when his luck was particularly good, or wrap iron around his door. She taught him signs and symbols to engrave in the wood that would ward away harm and keep him safe, how certain prayers or turns of phrase could tell those who wished him harm apart from those who didn’t. She taught him how to run through the woods - because Takami Shinya was a wild thing, from the moment he was born in this world too small to hold him - without disturbing anything, without trespassing through lands that would steal him away for daring.
She couldn’t take him away from his father - the bastard couldn’t care less about Shinya, but he was a spiteful bastard, and the retribution that might come of trying didn’t bear speaking of - but she could give him what his parents never had.
Love and Learning in equal measure. Both of which would save his life ten times over.
And as he grew up, though her lessons played on through his entire life - through every action he made - he’d never met a creature, an other, like the ones she would tell him of in her stories.
.
Then, he met Enji.
Todoroki Enji was a man most would balk from. His very aura would demand respect from everyone he encountered, and outside the rebellious little brats he called children, he’d never encountered censure or derision turned towards him so boldly.
Meeting Takami Shinya was a revelation.
He was infuriating, setting his hair-trigger temper on edge with the way the young man insulted him after he caught Enji putting a pair of frightened teenagers in their place. Taunted him. Big man, aren’t you? He’d laughed, what an ego you’ve got. Sure you can walk through the doorway with that thing?
And when Enji had lunged for him, he’d run, laughter bright and taunting in the wind. Run, like wings were on his back, like no one would ever catch him.
So of course, Enji gave chase.
Was he surprised when the chase gave way to a fight that turned into fucking on the forest floor? Not really. Was he surprised when it turned out the young man with that taunting laugh and the wind at his back gave just as good as he got? Surprisingly, no. Was he surprised at how much he wanted to have it again?
Absolutely.
And Enji was a powerful man. He was powerful and well respected, and no one defied him like this infuriating human had in so many ways. And Enji, as was the way of powerful men everywhere, wanted more -
So he asked, “What’s your name,” letting the magic brim around them, ready to steal away the unexpected young man who’d stolen his attention so unexpectedly -
The wild thing in human confines only smirked at him, an expression full of teeth and eyes that saw too much, knew too much.
“You can’t have my name,” he laughed, the magic tingling at Enji’s fingertips dissipating in the wind like his words alone had smothered it, “but you can call me Shinya.”
.
Their tryst became a regular thing. Enji, curious and almost unwillingly drawn to the little shit who had no respect for what he was - who didn’t know, but almost knew, whose eyes gleamed with a cunning he hid from the world and was more than ready to drag Enji down from the pedestal his people had put him up on centuries ago.
When their relationship became more than just fucking, Enji couldn’t tell. He wasn’t sure Shinya could, either. But, well. Enji wasn’t the best at predicting anything when Shinya was concerned.
It was hard to claim a wild thing, but even harder to claim you knew one.
.
One day, Enji told Shinya about Rei.
He said, in halting words, about how he’d behaved reprehensibly towards his own wife. How it had taken his wife’s breakdown and his eldest son’s near-death experience shortly afterwards for him to realize how toxic he’d made his own home. How they’d separated to give each other time apart, to learn to live individually in a way that neither of them had had a chance to.
Shinya had looked at him in the way that spoke of a sharp intelligence the little shit rarely displayed, hidden behind a lazy drawl and grumpy aggression, that made Enji think he knew more about what Enji was than he would ever say.
He asked if they’d divorced or they were just staying separate, eyes gleaming when Enji told him that divorce wasn’t in the cards for them. Which was true. Their kind didn’t do divorce. Usually they just went their separate ways, or they killed each other to be free of their bond. And while Enji might’ve deserved it if Rei killed him, he knew his wife was a gentler soul than he ever could be.
Their eldest? Not so much. Enji was so damn blessed that his daughter took enough after his wife that she was fully capable of restraining his eldest’s temper. If Fuyumi went along with him, Touya probably could’ve murdered Enji ten times over, and gotten away with it.
Not that Fuyumi couldn’t do it herself, of course. But whatever line she had in the sand, Enji praised the gods every day that he’d never yet crossed it.
But no, he told Shinya, divorce wasn’t in the cards for them. Maybe in the future, they’d repair their relationship enough that his wife might tolerate him around her. But until then, he’d stay away. He’d done enough damage to his family.
Shinya nodded, eyes gleaming thoughtfully, even as his lips slid into a familiar sly smirk and he pushed Enji back to twist on top of him. And asked if he wanted a distraction.
And, well. Enji was weak to this particular distraction.
.
Maybe Enji was too weak to that particular distraction, because one day - months, maybe even years later - Shinya came to him and told him that he was getting married. He and his fiancée were in an open relationship, he said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. But he’d wanted to tell Enji to check if he wanted to keep their relationship going, or if he would rather break it off if he was uncomfortable.
And Enji was uncomfortable, but not in the way Shinya thought he would be.
Others, depending on the species, could lean towards extremes in their possessiveness. But regardless, the Todoroki family had always been on the particularly possessive side of the spectrum. And Enji hadn’t realized how much he’d considered Shinya his until he realized he’d have to share.
Enji didn’t particularly like the thought of that.
Shinya had been fascinated by Enji from the moment they’d met. Thought the older other needed a boot up the ass with all his stubborn posturing and superiority complex, but fascinated nonetheless.
He knew it went against everything his grandmother had taught him. How to be careful, how not to attract attention from those who wandered the edges of human perception to bend the blur between them. And to be fair, he’d known Enji was something, but he hadn’t pinned on him being quite as other as the other man had turned out to be.
He hadn’t realized how far into the water he’d been swimming, either, until he realized he was much too far out to escape what was coming up from the deep to catch him.
Because, see, things started happening. His time with Enji would run longer than he realized, leaving him too close to the woods after dark. Eyes followed him in the dark, tracing his path home regardless of how many detours he took to throw them off. The woods tricked his eyes, would’ve had him wandering into somewhere he could’ve been stolen away without a whisper to tell of what had happened to him, if he hadn’t known better. The protections on his home were weakened. Tomie’s luck plummeted, losing her a job she’d been desperately hoping to succeed in, accompanied by a nasty fall that had her nearly snapping her leg when she’d fallen down three sets of stairs.
And he had a trembling, terrifying feeling brewing in his gut that he knew exactly when it had all started.
.
The wedding was when he realized he had to stop. When he realized Enji wouldn’t.
It wasn’t much of a wedding, per say. Neither he nor Tomie were spenders, nor did they have much money to spend. It was a courthouse wedding, with only a handful of people invited. His grandmother, her best friend who was an old babushka he’d grown up with, a few of his and Tomie’s bare handful of friends and coworkers, and Tomie’s older sister, who’d actually gifted Tomie a new dress for the day.
He was excited, happy for once instead of just content. Tomie was his best friend, his partner in so many ways. They knew each other’s secrets, their habits, their vices, and loved each other still.
He was excited until he wasn’t. Until he watched the chandelier in the building drop out of nowhere, Tomie right underneath it, and felt his legs stiffen, as if someone was holding him in place.
He lunged anyways, feeling the stiffness vanish the moment whomever was causing the sensation realized Shinya would be hit if he couldn’t move, and managed to shove them both away just in time.
When he looked up, caught a glimpse of fire-bright blue eyes staring at him from out of the shadows, he knew.
He’d forgotten - just as Enji had never realized - that he wasn’t the only one who would recognize what Enji was. And what his presence meant.
When his grandmother helped him and Tomie home, she went through their house like she’d once gone through his parents’, carving extra signs and sigils, weaving runes and warnings and iron wrapped around every entryway. She helped him etch the wards into his very skin, pressing a warm kiss to his temple when he was safe - they were safe - at long last. Enji would never be able to find him or his family unless he wanted the other to be able to.
But freedom - safety - felt a lot like chains of a new kind.
.
There was an ache that would never heal - a restlessness he’d never be able to quell - that had grown when he realized he would never be able to wander alone again. Not without risking the wards falling and revealing him, exposing him and his family to Enji’s attention.
And that was a risk he would never let himself take.
An Enji with too much time on his hands was probably not the best Enji to be around, he would reflect on later.
Only after a too long, too honest conversation with his wife, had he realized how badly he’d fucked up with Shinya. And with Shinya hidden safely behind wards he hadn’t ever thought the other man could craft - idiot, entirely, to forget that Shinya knew of them and that someone must’ve taught him that - he turned his attention on something else entirely.
Namely, to ensure his children never fucked up to the same degree. To ensuring they had happy, healthy relationships. Enji had gone on to push his children towards finding healthy partners. Whether they be their kind, other supernaturals, or plain jane humans, Enji wanted his children to be happy and secure. And maybe get his mother off his case about marrying his kids off for better connections, the way he and Rei had been.
He had no fucking clue what his actions would end up leading to, much less that it would send Shinya after him with a knife and murder in his eyes yet again.
Takami Keigo was born a wild thing, with the wind echoing in his ears and the gleam of sunshine in golden eyes. A wild thing that ran like he could fly the moment he began to toddle, who refused to let language constrain him from knowing, who sought for answers everywhere and could see a world not even Shinya could ever dream of seeing.
And so, Shinya taught his son what his grandmother had once taught him. Taught him warmth and love and kindness in turn with caution and mischief - gifts to help his son run fast and run as free as he had, without allowing anything to trap him and keep him down.
The ache healed, the restlessness eased, as he watched his son grow and run and fly, and he thought - perhaps this can be enough.
And then, there was a trick. A trap. And a prank.
And the rest was history.
end.