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The winters that struck his mountain were ferocious, beating at his limbs with a veracious appetite. He was still wrapping his fingers ever so tighter, to keep the cold out, but to no avail. His fingers are purple, his hands shaking, and he can’t cut as nicely as he can in the summer. Though, he still grits his teeth, bearing the frost that has made its way up his body during the intrepid weather. Only a short time now, for the snow and silt to break into the warmth of spring, for everything to thaw and change under the sultry rays of the sun.
He continues to carve despite his physical condition, knowing he needs to hike down the mountain if he wants any more scrolls or stories. Even if he sees the looks in the street, as he carries his wrapped packages to the market, as he attempts to make a living and breech the gap in any way he can. (He knows he never will, the Yangban really loves their won.) He will still be nothing to them, but that matters less the older he gets, because the only companion he needs to keep is the tiny bird that follows him up and down the mountain.
The tiny thing had started following him during the past year, marching its tiny feet down the incline behind him. It is a round ball of fluff, beautiful brown and light orange feathers always ruffled, the slightly triangular head and thin beak that stares up at him with innocent, wide eyes. Locals have been calling them nighthawks, as a small family of them lives closer to the other side of the range, and their nature to enjoy activity when the moon is high in the sky.
He hadn’t seen one over in this area the whole time he has lived here for the past fifteen years, but now, he has a feathery little friend that likes to accompany him on his walks. It's cute, he can’t lie to himself and say the little hopping footsteps that follow him, keeping pace with him if he let it catch up, isn't the most beautiful thing he's seen in his life. He’s even started to weave a basket, one full of loose wool and sticks, for if the little angel decides to accompany him to his front door. Though, he doesn’t know if the sweet stubby thing has a death wish, following a scarred and larger figure around, but he appreciates the tiny little noises, the chitter sounding like a running stream.
Sometimes, the naïve thing will attempt to hop onto his lap, using its tiny legs to try and propel its way onto his shoulder. When he finally relented and let the baby perch, it nuzzled into his neck, and decided that it was going to stay there forever. It has stuck to him like glue ever since, and as he becomes more ragged by day, the sweet little thing tweets up at him, and he smiles. He wishes he had a name, one to tell his tiny friend to mourn because his body is faltering, and he knows his time will come.
He keeps the sweet little angel on his chest when he passes, holding it close to him, knowing that it was a guardian sent to give him one last shred of hope. He tells the bird one last, “Thank you,” before his eyes closed for the last time.
Maybe the bird finally got his message of gratitude. He hopes it did.
The bird finds him again, in another life, where he is Jang Suho, a high school student deep in the nineteenth century.
He’s rambunctious, loud, and a menace to everyone that knows him. Nobody wishes to get to understand him, leaving Suho without anyone to spend lunch with. It sounds more depressing than it is, and he isn’t too bothered by it because he knows he will never see them again, because he’s planning to leave Gwanju the moment he graduates. He doesn’t need petty friendships; he doesn’t need to be with people who won’t support him even if they’re far away. They weren’t worth it, or the effort he would put into that would end up going to waste anyway. No matter how many times his mother thought he was lonely, he told her he is fine, he doesn’t need them, he’d rather study and get into a good university.
So, he does, until a little bird hops its way into his view. For some reason, he feels familiar with its slight head title, its vrooming sound of a call, and when he reaches his hand out to pet it, and it complies immediately, closing its eyes and letting out something that sounds sort of like a purr. He laughs at it, smoothing its back, using his thumb to rub on the head feathers softly. It’s the first time in Suho’s life where he feels at peace, like he is no longer a restless cloud of darkness that screams into the void. He lifts the bird into his lap, and he smiles.
He made a new friend; his first friend. The bell rings before he realizes that all of lunch is over, and he needs to leave his friend before, so he gives the nice animal one last pet before placing it on a bush towards the forested area it came from. After that day, he never sees the bird again, and learns the true reality of the world he was going into. Jang Yuho didn’t make it long, not without his bird.
Lee Minho knows that there is something that the world will never tell him, as if it could tell him anything at all, but he knows what it means. There is always something sitting overtop his memories, in a way he can’t understand, facts he shouldn’t know, skills he never knew he had before. His childhood of being called a genius, now long a joke, it was not because he learned those things, but because he already knew those things. He didn’t have memories of learning how to butcher, or how to recite medical tables, they just existed there in his brain.
Minho didn’t know exactly what to do with this information, just taking it at face value, and moving on with his life. It was until he started to see the memories of learning how to butcher, the tiny bird flittering at his feet, and the world decades before he came into existence. The bird became a focal point for him, as it was the only happy thing to come out of it, those dreams full of vile things towards the ends of those lives. He never thought he would remember who he used to be, as the reincarnations are more symbolic for him, but here he was.
There wasn’t anything he wanted to do with those memories, they didn’t hold great importance, they were just someone trying to survive, and they became him. He’ll do what he can to live a life neither of them got to, so he is passionate about what he wants to do, and who he wants to be. He wants to do right by them, as they share the same soul, and he hopes it gives who he will become next good karma.
So, Minho dances, the task being something exhilarating and consistent. He can work hard and get good results, and when he joins a dance crew he can feel a weight off his shoulders, when he gets work as a background dancer he feels like a bird. When he gets into JYP Entertainment, he falters, not for lack of trying, but because now his mind is drawn to the boy he met only a few weeks ago. He’s tiny, thin, and sweet. His braces make him look younger than he is, and his voice is like a bird's chitter. His name is Jeongin, and he makes him feel like he is struck by a livewire.
Minho doesn’t know why but he immediately adopts him, keeping the boy always within arm's reach, making him food and giving him snacks. He’s so endeared so quickly, to get moments of when he cracks out of his shy shell, and his smile lights up the room. It’s an addiction to get him to smile, especially as they work towards their debut, and they were too far and between for his liking. He made sure that Jeongin felt comfort when they were separated, and he ignored the way his tears made his chest linger on emotions that sat deep-seated in his heart. There was a protectiveness that sat over him the same way his old memories did, and he lets it go, because if he dwelled on it too much, he’d get a headache.
It takes years of interacting with each other for him to realize, one night when they were laying together while watching a movie, that Yang Jeongin has been the bird, he is the bird, the one who looked at who Minho used to be and flapped his wings happily. He was the tiny fluffy thing that followed him, comforted him, and finally, he can actually tell him how much he means to him. They speak the same language, they are the same species, and it means more time spent with his little chick following his heels.
What matters, really, is that the bird found its way back to him, and he’s one of Minho’s favorite people. They get at least one lifetime together, and that’s all he can ask for.
He pushes Jeongin’s hair off his forehead and holds him close, smiling into the boy’s hair. They were reunited, and that’s the only thing that he could ever wish for.