Archive of Our Own

The heavens opened up in the early evening, sending the strolling citizens of Inazuma scurrying for cover. As Sara’s red getas splashed through the freshly accumulating puddles, she reveled in the peace; the soothing patter of rainfall did wonders at washing away her often-turbulent thoughts. It wasn’t often Sara found herself able to enjoy a walk, much less one without hesitant whispers and uneasy stares following her like a curse wherever she went. 

With a quick flutter of feathers, four inky black wings unfurled from Sara’s back, poised to act as a buffer for what rain they could catch. Glancing around out of habit, she allowed herself to smile. No one was around to fear her, no one to remind her that her natural state sowed distrust among the very people she had sworn to protect. 

One person never found her wings threatening, nor found her tengu nature disquieting. Sara’s restless heart guided her to Tenshukaku's doorstep, and that’s when she heard a few chirps.

Staying as still as possible, she focused on where it was coming from. How curious! Sara couldn’t remember when she last heard any birds during a storm. Luckily, the chirps continued, barely audible over the sheets of the rain, and Sara followed suit.

“Oh, you’re just a tiny thing, aren’t you?” Sara said, crouching down to inspect the small yellow bird that was as round as a ball.

Seeing Sara’s hand approaching it, the bird’s chirps increased in fervor -- it attempted flapping its wings, but couldn’t take off. Every attempt at flight was accompanied by a pained high-pitched squawk. Sara spotted the wound with a frown.

Taking off her tengu mask, she turned it upside-down and held it in front of the bird. It stared at the mask, then at Sara, unsure. The poor thing was a sight - drenched and clearly in pain; Sara’s heart tugged. She knew it would not fare outside, not alone.

“Come on, let me help you,” she said, placing the mask on the grass. Gingerly, she guided the bird onto the inside of the mask; its legs sticking out of one of the eye holes, its plump body making sure it wouldn’t fall through. “Hold tight, we’re going somewhere safe.”

Holding the bird safely in place, Sara sped up the Tenshukaku stairs.

“Sara, this little bird is unbelievably adorable,” Ei said, expression as grave as her tone, “But what are we to do to help it?”

Sara, having grabbed a dish towel from a servant, carefully helped the bird dry off. “Right now, keeping it fed and warm is imperative.”

“Mm, the night’s chill could petrify the poor thing.” Ei tended to Sara’s own dampness with a towel.

Sara’s eyes remained glued to the wing she identified to be the problem; Ei’s gaze followed until she saw it.

“Can we do much for a chick this young with a wing broken that badly?”

Ei did not miss the flinch from her lover, nor the way she looked away.

Sara shushed the apology on her lips by angling one of her main wings towards her. “You’ve seen this,” she stated.

With a nod, Ei started drying off the proffered wing. “Of course. Your Yōkai

nature is not only enchanting, but also wonderfully familiar.”

A knock on the door -- at Ei’s ensuing ‘ Enter,’ two servants came in with a tray of tea, seeds and nuts for the bird, and another few towels. They left with a tinge of embarrassment on their cheeks for having unwittingly interrupted a private moment.

“Do you know of my father?”

Ei stalled in her ministrations. “Kujou Takayuki?” She continued, “He holds no favor of mine, not after his betrayal. Especially not after I learned that he was not particularly kind to you.” 

Sara held her breath. A sour rumbling within her gut prompted her to open up about her past. After all, she trusted Ei, and knew her vulnerability would not be misplaced.

Since Takayuki’s exile, Sara had not seen much of him. She grappled with the idea that perhaps she didn’t want to think of her adoptive father anymore. Wasn’t such a wish disrespectful? She wasn’t sure, or perhaps she knew, but didn’t want to admit it to herself.

She jumped at the feeling of lips against her wing, careful not to drop the tiny bird in her hands.

“Sara?”

Ei stepped into Sara’s view, her expression clouded over with concern, the worry on her face born of a compassionate soul. She cupped Sara’s face with a tender touch, then kissed her chin.

“Are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine,” Sara muttered.

It wasn’t pleasant to think about Takayuki. For many years of her life, she considered him more of a captor than a father figure. The harm he perpetuated wormed its way deep into Sara’s heart, creating a system of cursed roots of self-hatred that she struggled with for most of her life.

Trusting Ei was the first step to cleansing those roots.

“My dear, you don’t look fine.” Ei’s voice drifted farther away. “Mora for your thoughts?” When Ei returned, it was with a cup of tea. Sara took it, the warmth that spread across her fingers grounding her, giving her strength.

The sensations at her back returned as Ei continued drying off her wings; her ministrations doubled as a massage, with her pressure moving up and down and around, in a soothing circular motion. Sara stared at their reflection in her tea. As much as she hated wasting any more time thinking about that wretched man, she knew it was to heal a wound that never got its proper care.

“When he took me in, I was injured from a fall,” Sara said, tea warming her throat, coaxing the pain out of her. “This one,” she said with a flex of the wing in Ei’s hands, “it was bent at unnatural angles.”

Ei’s fingers paused, she gasped as she imagined the wing in front of her, mangled and broken.

“I-I couldn’t properly reach,” Sara said, voice strained, just above a whisper. Shame devoured her body and she felt Ei’s hand cover hers. “Takayuki told me that ‘ if I was a REAL tengu warrior,’ I would tough it out and heal on my own.” Sara shook her head. “I was 10, I didn’t know it needed to be set.”

Ei’s jaw set, her hand squeezing Sara’s hand in silent support.

“I did my best, but it never healed quite right; there’s a bump where it sits just a bit crooked…”

Sara took another drink, the tea soothing her already-too-dry throat. She felt exploratory, gentle fingers trace along the bone that splintered in the fall - the bone only partially set.

Ei kissed the spot once she found it, her voice pained as it breathed out, “Oh, my love…”

“I kept telling myself he didn’t know any better. That he didn’t know my medical needs any more than I. How could he have known it was broken so irreparably?”

And under Ei’s fingers, when Sara flexed her wings to full capacity, there was only one that could not. As much as it strained, it remained crooked and bent -- a tengu’s pride shattered. The capacities for flight were fully unrealized: without all four wings at full range of motion, she was unable to partake in most variations of flight; flying against the wind -- at any angle and any speed -- was completely out of the question, as was flying long distances. Even on a calm day, she considered herself lucky to stay airborne for twenty seconds.

Ei’s reply was curt, “He knew.” Thunder rumbled dangerously nearby, shaking the palace. Her displeasure would be known, and it would be felt by all. Her fingers brushed across the feathers on the wing bent at an unnatural angle. She retracted her hand. “Does it still--?”

“No. It only hurts if I attempt to unfurl them past their limit.”

For a moment, Ei’s voice broke. “This is an unacceptable amount of pain, for any length of time.”

Sara turned to face her beloved, cup of tea in one hand, and yellow ball of feathers in the other. She looked upon Ei’s face, which was hardened with hatred, and felt her composure crumble.

“Ei…” Her jaw trembled. “This is why we must find adequate care for this little one before its broken wing sets like mine. It deserves the ch--” She choked on the word, swallowing it as if it were a shattered bone caught in her throat. “--It deserves the chance that I… never got.”

The embrace against her chest was fierce enough to rip the sob out of her. The pressure where Ei held herself acted as a balm, a salve against the wound within her heart that never properly healed.

Ei kissed her, peppering her face with kisses soaked with devotion, her voice hiccuping with grief for the future she would never have -- a future she had no chance of living.

An eternity spent in the embrace was too short. Ei pulled back, her eyes red and smile tinged with regret. “I believe you’ve dried all of the energy out of the little thing,” Ei said, gingerly taking the snoozing mass of yellow from Sara. “We will see a trusted animal doctor in the morning. I know they have a healer on hand. For now, change out of those soaking clothes, my love.”

Sara’s gaze lingered on the peaceful yellow orb. Her hesitance to let the injured bird out of her sight made sense - to Ei, it was heartwarming in a bittersweet way to see her care for an innocent life with a courtesy she had never been personally offered. It spoke to Sara’s good heart.

“Your robes are clean and ready, now go.”

“Of course, Your Excellency.”

With her own sad smile and a short bow, Sara left. Ei closed her eyes, allowing herself to feel the weight that lingered in the room, the grief that threatened to crush Sara. She allowed herself to feel a sense of pride in her beloved tengu warrior. Oh, how she admired Sara’s resilience - how Sara dared to survive against an uncaring, cold world, and dared to make a name for herself doing so.

Ei brushed a finger along the bird’s feathered head, imagining if it were a tiny tengu-form of Sara. To her surprise, it chirped!

“Sorry to wake you, little one,” Ei said, reasonably bashful. “Did you get hurt falling from your nest?”

She watched the bird stand up and turn around in her hands. It chirped once more. Delighted and extremely ready to fawn over the bird, she retrieved a handful of seeds and let it eat from her hands.

“You know, little one, it’s funny. You remind me a lot of Sara, actually.”

The bird watched as she spoke, cocking its head to the side. Ei laughed away the wistful glint in her eye. It was listening .

“She has a warrior’s spirit, much like you: scared, hurt , but filled with pride. Even as unknowns battered her, she stayed strong and, despite the scars both on the surface and deep down, she fought through the pain. I could call her a hero,” Ei said, voice soft, getting softer, “I… really should. To her face, this time.”

A chirp.

“I know, I know. It’s silly of me not to, isn’t it?”

Another chirp.

Ei hummed. “I often wonder how soon I will run out of ways to show her how incredible she is. Not that I will stop trying, of course.”

An affirmative chirp.

By the time Sara returned, the tiny orb of yellow was perched -- contentedly sound asleep -- on Ei’s bosom.

Ei tsked, unable to hide her smile. “Now, now, General, it’s not polite to stare.”

“Forgive me, Your Excellency,” Sara said with a mock-bow, “I couldn’t help but find myself jealous.” Both of them giggled at the idea of tiny bird-form-Sara perched atop her rightful roost.

Traipsing closer, Ei drew Sara’s robes closed and tied them, leaning up to kiss her on the lips. 

“Is my little bird jealous of a… little bird?”

Ei could have sworn Sara’s laugh lit up the room, which she could have also sworn warmed up their little rescued friend. After gingerly setting their bird in a makeshift nest of warm towels, Ei had no choice but to pull Sara in for a kiss, apology and reverent love on her lips, hoping to decorate Sara with all that they stood for.

With the belief that both she and the little bird would be taken care of, Sara let herself relax.

Before nodding off into a sweet slumber, Ei preened Sara’s feathers under the night of a sweet, yet forlorn tengu melody.