Archive of Our Own

★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

When you said yes to this particular promotion, you had no idea what you were getting into.

"Hiya! If it's not my favourite Jiminy Cricket right into my ear! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You sigh a sigh so deep it's a miracle you don't transcend existence. A quick look at the little table calendar confirms that yes, it's only Tuesday. 

"Yeah, no, we're not doing this," you mutter, already done with him. "Because of your favourite client, the upper floors decided to uphold a new procedure just for you, aren't you happy?"

The brief silence at the other end of the earpiece is a clear indicator that Takami is, in fact, very not happy.

"Did he really whine again to Anko?"

"Yeah, he did. Tough shit, buddy. Now you gotta be on your best behaviour, and I mean it. We have to stay on comms for your whole shift," which is a nightmare of its own, since this guy pulls some incredibly long shifts; it feels like he has nothing else to do with his life. Gods, in his log the last one is sixteen hours long, and it stopped only because the system automatically logged him out after he reached the maximum consecutive hours of daily work. Ugh.

"We what? Aw, for real? Not that I don't enjoy your company, darlin', but I usually put on some good ol' music while doing my thing."

"Too bad. You just got an order."

"Aye aye, saw it. Geez. This'll be so no fun."

It was, in fact, 'no fun'. Sixteen hours of listening to the man just whistling off-tune, accepting orders, quipping with some fast-food worker, flirting with clients with absolutely no discrimination and listening to terrible, terrible puns about basically everything. The only moments Takami has been quiet the mic picked up either the sound of the wind when he was flying or the city, the streets far away enough to make you wonder on which roof or lightpole he was perching on.

Anyway, that little experiment went well. Takami has been on his best behaviour, so much so that they didn't get a complaint from that fucker, what's his name? Todoroki Enji? Him. And Anko was happy. 

Anko was so happy that she promoted you to a newly created role: Takami's handler. The rules? Simple. You have to hold his metaphorical leash during his shifts, so he doesn't fuck up that guy's orders again and your service doesn't get any more bad reviews. 

Fucking hell.

It's been three weeks of this, by now. Three. You're just done.

"This guy ordered a pack of bolts. Again. It's the third this week. You think he eats 'em?"

"Naah, I think that a pack of bolts is a normal purchase for a mechanic."

"Yeah, but three whole packs per week? That's way too many. And I know it's one of your least favourite routes, you whistle on your way there. Why do you keep accepting it?"

"Why shouldn't I? The guy's great, and it's not that annoying, as a ride." Takami's behaviour is weird, oftentimes. He is funny, okay, you admit it, but he also sounds like he'd rather do anything else than half the deliveries he does. Which are impressive, by the way. Four point ninety-eight stars on five. It's the highest score you've ever seen in all of your career. With that rating there's a little increase in the value of each delivery, forty yens or so- which is honestly a joke; you've been so pissed when the headquarters announced it. It's such a negligible increase that it felt almost offensive. No rider has ever made more than a hundred yen or so with that bonus, except for Takami. Takami's income has actually increased by almost ten thousand yen, which is astronomical. So much so that it works as an excuse for the higher-ups not to increase the bonus.

"You have the highest number of deliveries of this whole department. Your average is ten per hour. You can afford to drop some without losing your ranking. Like that Todoroki guy." - Takami snorts - "Why do you keep annoying him?"

"Have you ever met him?" is what he decides to answer with. You scoff.

"Yes, actually. Once."

A brief silence. "You should know why, then."

"I can't read your mind."

"He's a divorce attorney."

The tone with which he pronounces it makes you stop on your tracks. "I didn't know."

Takami chuckles, a low, unamused sound. For a second, he sounds way older than what's on his platform's profile. Twenty-five feels too small of a number. "Not many do. But it's owl-right." You can hear the man forcing another little chuckle at his own bad joke, and you take the attempt at changing subject as what it is.

"Anyway, you're almost there."

Takami doesn't answer, but the swift sound of wind can be caught through the ether, followed soon enough by a soft landing. 

"Yo, Bubaigawara!" He calls. 

"Takami! Finally, man. It's been so long. How's it going?" 

"Nothing new, same ol' shit. I got your bolts."

"You're a lifesaver. You got time for a smoke?"

Takami hesitates. "Yeah, sure. But five minutes. Gotta stay on track."

"Sure, man." 

Sound of steps, then a heavy door being opened and closed, then a little shuffling, then the two clicks of a lighter. You don't know if you should drop the line or not, but technically Takami is still on his shift, so you can't really abandon the position or silence the line. So, you lower the volume to the minimum and mute your mic.

With the volume so low, you can't hear the two men smoking, but the office is basically empty; you're the only one left there because everybody is on their lunch break, so you can't really not listen in.

"How's it goin'?"

"As always." A pause, "That bastard of a lawyer added another twenty thousand yen fine to the total. I was almost done."

"Ugh, Todoroki? Fuckin' vulture. Wait, I mean- no offence to your brother!"

"It's okay, he's an asshole too."

"How's Keigo?"

"He's... Okay, I guess? He has food and clothes and a roof, which is more than what I had when I was his age, but I don't like leaving him all day long with Arano. It's another debt I'll have to pay back, somehow."

"He's eight, isn't he?"

"Yeah." You've never heard Takami's voice being so soft. "Yeah, he's growin' fast. Already has his little fangs and his wingspan is enough to make him fly for a little while."

"That's good."

"..."

"Hey. You're doing your best. He knows it. He loves you. You're his dad, goddamnit. You stepped up when that bitch- sorry, sorry, but you know. When she wanted to drop him off in an orphanage just because she didn't want to take care of him. You're doing great, give yourself some credit."

Silence. Some other shuffling. 

"I gotta go. Thank you for your cig. See ya 'round?"

"Yup, you won't get rid of me so easily."

A huffed laugh. "See ya."

Then, the sound of Takami taking flight.

And, not even five seconds later, "How much of that have you heard?"

You turn the volume back up, open up the mic once again. "I'm sorry."

"Aye. Sure you are."

Takami keeps quiet for the rest of his shift.

~~~

You two don't talk very much after that. Just some polite small talk that you weren't sure Takami was even able to do, but it's okay, it's more professional.

You can still hear him talk with regulars-

("Hiya Nakoto! Fifth delivery this week, heh? Should I be ready for a sixth? Aye aye, no issue at all ma'am! I can bring you the whole McDonald's menu item per item as long as you keep tipping like that. What? Oh, tipping? I said 'smiling', darlin'"

"Yeah, his coffee's here. No, I didn't spit in it, it's against our policy. Oh, he wanted it hot? Too bad, he could go out and buy it himself instead of relying on others.")

- and not. Some friends, even.

("How long has it been since you last ate?"

"Geez, Sako, I'm fine. Bring your bag in, or it'll cool off with this wind."

"It's yours."

"Huh?"

"It's your lunch. And I know you like it, I ordered your favourite. Come in, sit down and eat."

"..."

"Shinyo."

"I can't. I'll waste time."

"And then I'll tip you more, I don't care. Please."

"..." 

You do turn off the comms soon after. As that Sako guy said, Takami deserves to enjoy the first lunch break he allows himself since you've started working with him.)

This gives you some free time to do some digging. 

You pull out the complete record of Takami's orders and start analyzing it.

Soon enough, patterns start coming to life. 

First, that Bubaigawara guy. Three packages of bolts, three times per week, always tips the maximum. 

Second, that Sako guy, always the same expensive incense from the international store, the one that's barely outside of Takami's area, just enough to appear on his map but be accepted with the additional bonus of a pick up done in another area. Again, always tips the maximum allowed.

And when Takami is either on his mandatory weekly free day or took a week or so of vacation, the orders stop. 

Kinda like the two men are trying to help Takami make as much money as possible.

And the deeper you dig, the more proof you find. There's that Nakoto lady who always places a couple of orders per week, asking directly for Takami in the 'notes' box. There's the chef at the restaurant who always somehow makes the order wrong and doesn't require the food back, leaving it up to the rider what to do with it. There's the old couple on the further side of the city, the ones who always order a couple of packages of water bottles and add chocolate too. Chocolate that mysteriously gets cancelled after the order has already been paid for, leaving it, once again, to Takami to decide. 

A pattern, so many of them, so many people trying to take care of one of them.

So, you throw yourself into work. You analyze every single line of the contract, look up the laws and the regulations, and find a way.

A way that Anko dislikes, personally, but that she agrees to move on to, because she might not like Takami, but she knows he's an important part of their team by now.

A week later, you haven't even finished adjusting your headphones at the start of your shift before Takami's voice comes to life in your ear. "It's you?"

"Good morning to you too. How was the weekend?"

"Cut it. It was your idea?"

"What?"

"The paycheck. There's a mistake."

"I don't see any mistakes in it, Takami. Hourly pay, the hours count is correct, the minimum you have to be paid by law is alright."

"What's that bonus?"

"It's written there. 'Best delivery rider of the year'." The twenty thousand yen of the bonus don't cover even half of what Takami earned for them in the past two days alone.

"Aye, no, it's bullshit. I've been working here for three years by now. It never existed."

"Well." You take a second to think about what to say. He doesn't like nor want pity, and you respect him enough to not give him that. Your eyes settle for a second on his employee file, open on a small window on your pc. The picture reminds you of a mugshot, but a cheeky one. The one of somebody amused by the situation no matter what. "I had a talk with Anko. She agreed to a little incentive to remunerate you for your hard work in this company. Our name is so important and respected because people recognize us as the best on the market: the fastest and the most reliable. And that's thanks to our best employee, who covers up alone a third of the requests we get. Don't you think?"

"..."

You give him some time. After a while, it sounds like he found his words, because

"I can't give it back, if Anko changes her mind."

"She won't. You earned that money, Takami. It's yours."

"..."

"Thank you."

★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆

Keigo is, for lack of a better definition, a ray of sunshine.

Surely, the best thing Takami has ever done in his life. 

He's also awake way past his sleep time, and by the way he jumps when Etsuji goes to check on him, he's perfectly aware of it. The man sighs. 

"Keigo, it's passst nine. You have to sleep, or you won't wake up in time tomorrow for sssschool."

The kid lowers his eyes and his wings, draping them around his sitting form. They're still small, nothing like Takami's one, so the primaries gently brush the futon under the boy instead of dramatically fanning out. "I know, but- I miss dad."

Etsuji stops on his tracks. "I know, kiddo, I know, but he's at work right now. He'll finish in a couple of hours or so and he'll come here, like always."

"I know, but I miss him," Keigo repeats, talking to the little plushie on his crossed legs. It's a little crocheted star with some safety eyes that one of Takami's regulars made for the kid's sixth birthday. He looks sad.

Etsuji squats beside the bed, trying to catch Keigo's eyes with his own. His slitted pupils always put people on edge, but it never happened with either Keigo or Takami. Same with the scales littering his limbs, neck and face. "Hey, kid. We can wait for him together, yeah? Wanna put on ssssssome music? Or watch a movie?"

Keigo's eyes lit up, his wings bristle a little in that way that means he's happy. "Movie! Wanna watch the one with the giant! The robot one!"

He chuckles at Keigo's enthusiasm. " 'Kay, okay, here. Put on your slipperssss, or your lil' feet will freeze and fall off," he just says, standing up with a low groan because he's almost forty, now, and his knees are not the same as before. Then, he walks out of the room and directly into the living room, where a half-broken TV rests on a low piece of furniture that has seen way better days. He knows Keigo is following him thanks to the little flutters and chirps he hears, so he fights against the TV until it turns on, connects it to the ancient device that allows them to play another ancient thing called 'DVDs'. They're like little reflective disks that, once put inside the device, show a single movie each. He fiddles with it while Keigo takes a place on the ratty couch that Etsuji himself gave to the two birds almost four years ago by now and presses play. The screen flickers, then some loud music comes out of the speakers, so he lowers the volume because Keigo has some issues with loud noises and goes to sit beside the child.

Keigo is hugging his little star now, eyes glued to the screen, sitting with his knees up to his chest and some of his weight resting on his feet, half-perched. It's a thing he likes to do a lot, same as his father - even though Takami oftentimes catches himself just in time and sits in a 'more human way', like Etsuji's teachers and parents always defined it. He despises the term with fierce passion -.

Fifteen minutes later, he's softly whistling, dozed off. 

Another two and a half hours later, keys rattle in the lock, and the door is softly opened and closed. Sound of dragged steps in the small, basically inexistent genkan, then a silent yawn. 

Takami stops on his tracks as soon as he enters the living room, looking first at Keigo, asleep on the couch, then at the television set on the news with no volume. 

"He misssed you, wanted to wait for you awake," Etsuji explains, voice low enough not to disturb the chick leaning against his side. He gives Takami a look. His hair is dishevelled, the ponytail he keeps it tied in all messed up by the wind, and his clothes look a little damp, like they got a little frozen while flying high in the sky and then the ice melted when down on ground level. His knuckles are reddened and cracked by the cold, and his eyes are bloodshot, wings all mussled up and dragging on the floor. The perfect picture of rest and health.

Takami just sighs at Etsuji's words, rubs both hands on his face and goes to wash them before coming back to the living room. He scoops Keigo up in his arms, and the kid lets out a startled chirp.

"Hey, baby feathers, it's me. Sleep, aye? 'Mma bring ya to the nest," the man immediately murmurs, raising his wings to make a cocoon around the child, who immediately calms down.

Etsuji doesn't mean to listen in, but the house is literally too small to avoid him to. Just the living room with a decrepit kitchen on the left side, the bedroom in front of the entrance, and the bathroom on the right. That's it. So he perfectly hears Keigo's small

"Dad...! I missed you... You. You okay with work...? Had a good-" a little yawn "A good day...?"

, and Takami's

"I missed you too, Chickzilla." Keigo chuckles. "I had the most wonderful day ever at work, you know what they asked me to deliver?"

"Nu-huh."

"A whole, entire cat tree. It was so big with so many boxes that I had to make two trips to fly it to the destination."

Keigo mutters something so low that Etsuji can't catch, but he freezes on the spot when he hears the low growl coming from Takami, instincts kicking in to try and flee from the angry predator.

"That little sh- bas- kid said what?"

"That I should stay in the dog house. Outside. Because- b'cause 'm a bird and bird's an animal an' animals stay 'tside."

Etsuji's heart now trembles with something other than fear. It's rage. But he keeps his cool, takes a long breath. As much as he appreciates the kid, he's not his kid. And he knows that Takami won't let it go. In fact,

"I'll talk to the principal, tomorrow morning. I'll get the brat fuckin' expelled."

"Don't use bad words. An' it's okay."

"It's not, chirps. You gotta stand up for yourself, got it? For when I won't be there to do it for you."

"But you'll always be there, Dad. Right?"

Silence.

"Right...? Dad...?"

A sigh. It sounds so tired. "Yes, Kei. I'll always be there for you. But you have to take care of yourself too, right? You gotta know how to anyway, even if I'm there."

"'kay dad." After a second, "I did tell the teacher. And the teacher scolded Masaki."

"Good. Good, good. I'll talk to the principal anyway because I'm pissed, but you did perfect, babyfeathers."

Some shuffling, "Now, time to sleep. I've got to go and send Arano home, 'kay? I'll be back in a sec."

"Mhmh, m'kay. Imma wait fo' you. Cold."

Some more shuffling, "Try to count to a hundred and ten. I'll be here before you finish, promise."

"Mhmh. One. Two. Th-" a little yawn, "Fou'... Fi-... Five..."

No more numbers after that. And, a few heartbeats later, Takami walks out of the room, being careful not to make too much noise. He shifts closed the heavy blanket that works as a door - being the actual door too broken to be repaired anymore, by now - and gestures to Etsuji to go out.

He obeys, used to this by now, and walks out of the house, having already put his shoes on while waiting. Takami follows him soon after, only in his socks. He closes the door behind them, then leans against it, visibly fighting against gravity with all his might.

"I gotta ask you to keep an eye on him for one more hour, tomorrow. Gotta talk with a fucker who bullied him at school," he mutters, clearly not amused by the fact. Rummages through his pocket in search of a cigarette, for sure, but Etsuji beats him and offers his own pack. Takami hesitates for a second before picking a cig and lighting it up. 

Etsuji does the same, blowing a puff of smoke in the already stale air of the stairwell. "'Sssss not an issssue," is his simple answer, because it really isn't. Keigo is a sweetheart, he reminds Etsuji of his own daughter when she was his age, and he's definitely not okay with what happened to the kid at school.

Takami takes a deep breath, all smoke, and holds it until it must surely burn as hell, then lets it go.

Etsuji allows him to almost finish his cigarette before speaking again. "How long?"

"Huh?"

"How long d'ya have to live like thi’?"

Takami hums. Takes another drag, the last one, and kills the cherry against the tip of one of his talons, where there aren't any nerves. "Five, six months, I think? I'm almost there. Management gave me a bonus two months ago, and I used that money to pay for the addendum or whatever it's called that that fucker of a lawyer added to the tab just for sending a couple of emails. Emails. Asshole. Gods, I hate him so much. I'd hope he chokes on his fuckass coffee if that wouldn't mean that I'd have to find another fuckin' lawyer to finish the last parts of my goddamned case."

Yeah, he's pissed. Rightfully so. Etsuji doesn't know the whole story, but he's heard enough details to have an idea of the general picture. "You could also ask-"

It's not often that he feels chills run down his spine. Usually it's Etsuji himself to give that feeling to people, to make them skittish and squeamish and whatever other word to describe when you find somebody weird or straight up repulsive but can't do nothing about it and you're forced to interact with them. Well, a shiver goes down his spine, right now, making the line of scales that runs down it shift uncomfortably. He feels pinned by Takami's glare like a moth under a lens.

"No."

"Okay, okay. Fuck, dude, chill the fuck out."

Takami stares at him for one long second, then sighs and looks away, blinking a few times. "Sorry, it's just. It's been a long day."

Etsuji looks at him. Really looks at him. At his ratty clothes, held together by thread and hope, sewn back together so many times they rip in the same spots, by now, because the fabric is too stressed to withstand more repairs. The right sock has a hole near the toe, and every bit of skin that's exposed to the weather is either reddened or straight up cracked with dry skin and poor circulation. (He makes a mental note to go through his wardrobe to look for some old shirt and pants he can gift him. Etsuji doesn’t need so many anyway). He counts to five, and then back down to zero. "It's okay. Listen, just go insside and rest. I'll think 'bout Keigo, 'kay? I'll pick him up from ssschool tomorrow and ask about the little shit that bullied him, scare him off a little bit, whatcha think?"

Takami snorts a weak laugh, then slowly nods. "'Kay, but don't overdo it. I need Keigo to be able to go to that school without any problems, got it?"

"Bet. Even though I still don't know why you sent him to that pompous private thing."

"Because it's the best money can afford, and he deserves it," is Takami's answer.

Etsuji just shrugs. "Whatever. I went to a public ssschool, and I turned out just fine."

It's a joke, maybe it's self-deprecating, but it's enough to make Takami silently laugh. "Aye, woah, look at you, rockin' life like a champ."

"You're insssssufferable."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Gods, sometimes I wish I'd never tried to say 'hello' to Keigo that day."

"Heh, I egret many of my choices too."

The shit-eating grin for his own terrible pun is enough to make Etsuji feel slightly better about this whole situation. He drops his stub to the dirty ground and stomps on it to kill it. "'M gonna go to sleep, it's so fuckin' late. Do the same. Rest."

"Aye!"

Etsuji turns his back, directed to the flight of stairs that will bring him to the upper floor, to his apartment, when Takami speaks again.

"Hey."

He turns slightly, just enough to look at him over his shoulder.

Takami looks slightly uncomfortable, as if self-conscious of something. He looks down to the side, then steadies himself. "Thank you. For Keigo."

Etsuji looks at him for a long, long second, then turns away once again, waving a hand over his shoulder. "'Sss nothing. I have to be sure that he won't follow your sssteps and become such a peacock, after all."

Silence, then, "Hey! That pun doesn't make any fuckin' sense! I'm not vain!"

Etsuji doesn't waste his time contradicting him, he just huffs a laugh - that he's sure Takami heard - and climbs up the stairs. 

He has a good feeling about all of this. 

The door to Takami’s apartment opens and then closes.

Everything will turn out fine.

★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

Fuck her, fuck fate, fuck whatever fucking God is up there, but most of all fuck Takami. Gods. He's such a headache, a flying headache, and Anko is so sick of him. So sick, in fact, that one of the scars on her face has been annoyingly itching for the past twenty minutes.

She doesn't have many regrets in her life, but surely one of them is meeting him. Hell.

She's so tempted to let the call go to voicemail but no, she has a job to do, a job that that fucker loves to make more difficult than it should be, so she puts on her best customare service voice, which is basically her normal voice because she couldn't be bothered to fake a chippy and enthusiast one for double her paycheck, and picks up.

"Food-Ex's area seventh's management, Anko's speaking."

"... I asked for the other woman."

Oh no. Again. "Yeah, and I wanted to be a doctor, yet here we are, Mr Todoroki. What's wrong this time?"

"You know what's wrong. Your delivery rider. How come he's still working for you?"

"Fuck if I know. He's the best the market has to offer, even I can't deny that, but that aside, I have no idea, trust me."

"Mh. He spat in my coffee."

What? 

"What?"

"You heard that right, he spat in my coffee right in front of me."

That's... That sounds out of character. Yes, Takami's a fucker and a liability, but he would never break their policy, he would never risk his job. He has too much to lose. 

Anko opens up on her pc the order log of Takami's current shift, which is a shitton of information because he makes so many deliveries in a single shift that she had to ask the tech guys to update the software to avoid it crashing if a check was needed. Yes. You read that right. So, she loads up the log - which takes so long, damn it - and starts checking it.

And, yes, there it is. 'Todoroki's Hōritsu Jimusho', 201-1273, Matsuoka Watarishinden, Eiheiji-cho Yoshida-gun, Fukuoka. The same address as always, with the same order as always: a hot American coffee, double, today with a little pastry. Weird. Whatever.

"I see your order, here. Accepted at 15.48, picked up at 15.54, delivered at 16.24 ." Which is late for Takami; his orders usually take five to ten minutes to deliver, but alas, the coffee shop is quite far away from the delivery point, so technically he can't be blamed. Anko knows it because he told her so himself, as smug as always.

Ugh. She falls for her habits and brings the palm of one hand up to her face, rubbing it against the scar to try and alleviate the itching without actively scratching the scar tissue. It always reddens the area too much, and she hates it.

"Yes. It was cold, but that aside, I saw him spit in it. When I confronted him over it he negated and said that 'I was just bullshitting him to get on his nerves', I quote. I want to report him."

"You're a lawyer, sir. If you're so offended, why don't you, I don't know, sue him or something?"

Silence. 

"Exactly. It's not that serious. So quit it and stop being such a nuisance, for God's sake."

"You're too rude to work in customer service. I want to speak to your superior."

"Well, fuck you, first things first. Secondly, fuck you harder, I'm my own boss, bitch." 

Dropping the call is so damn satisfying Anko has to savour the moment for a second. 

And the next she's trying to keep her cool while dialing Takami's working number.

"Hey-yo! Bossman! Oh, well, bosswoman. How can I assist you?"

"Cut it, pigeon. Did you fucking spit into Todoroki's coffee?!"

"I did what?"

The somber tone is enough to make Anko take a relieved breath. "Did you spit into that fucker's coffee right in his face?"

"What the fuc- no! Why the fuck should I? To try and lose my job? I know that you think I'm the biggest dumbass who's ever walked on the earth and flown in the sky, but fucking Hell, Anko!"

"I was just checking," she says, because it's true. It is too much even for Takami, as much as he openly hates that lawyer, and she doubts that things went as Todoroki said. "What happened?"

Takami sighs. A long, tired sound. "He ordered his disgusting coffee, like he always does. This time with an item. I accepted the order at around four in the afternoon, picked it up shortly after and delivered it at four-thirty-something. You got my log, I don't remember the exact time. When I went up to his receptionist's desk to deliver it - lovely lady, by the way. I have no idea why she works for such a twit - he was there and started yelling at me because 'I was late'. I wasn't. And you know that."

"It also took you longer than with every other delivery in the area."

"Heh," Anko can perfectly picture the bird shrugging, "See if I care. I was still on time."

And that's, unfortunately, undeniable.

"I said something like 'you're lucky you got me as your designated rider, or you'd get coffee chased with spit as your order each time' and he flipped like a flocking idiot."

How this fucker reached twenty-five years old without getting killed is a mystery. One that not even Scooby-fucking-Doo and the Ghostbusters and whatever else would be able to solve. Just- how dumb can somebody be?

"You did not say that to a client."

"Aye, I did. An' I regret nothing."

"He said he saw you spit in his drink. He wants me to file a report."

"He's a lawyer, sweetheart. Lying's in his blood."

"Call me that once again and I'm going to disable your account for a month."

Some sputtering on the other end of the line, "No! 'Kay, okay, as you say, ma'am! No more!"

Let's see how long it lasts. Ugh. "Whatever. Why should I trust you and not him?"

Silence, again. This time it's tense, full of unsaid words. Finally, Takami settles with "You know what I have to lose, if I get fired. You know I'd never intentionally get fired."

She does. Takami's one of her biggest problems, but she does trust him on the job.

"Also, that aside, my handler was in comms with me, heard the whole thing. Cute little name ya gave to the position, aye? Makes me feel like a rabid dog or something."

That, too. Anko takes the mental note to make another call as soon as she drops this one. 

Her headache is worsening. 

"I'll call the department as soon as I'm done with you."

"Aye!"

Anko sighs. "Drop the call, I'm busy."

"Aye! Bye!"

And the call drops with a soft click.

Anko rubs her face once again, this time going down to the side of her neck, where that scar crosses another one. She has to fix this whole mess before an actual lawsuit starts. Even though she doubts it'll happen, it would be too much of a hassle for literally nothing, especially if they have surveillance cams and the assistant's deposition on their side. Other than the handler's one, of course. Ugh. 

That fucking bird, he only brings problems. She should have never looked at that kid's picture, damn, she knows that kids are her soft spot, surely the fucker knew too. 'Please, Anko', he said, 'think about my kid', he said. 'I won't bring any problem, you won't even know I'll be here', he fucking said.

Filthy liar, Anko can't forget he's here. Not when he works how much he does, not when he brings in almost a third of their gains alone, not when every single meeting she gets dragged into is about 'how can we improve the other drivers' performance to match Takami's?' And 'Should we lower the maximum amount of consecutive hours a rider can work? I'm afraid Takami will drop dead mid-shift someday; that would be a hell of paperwork to send in'.

Takami, Takami, Takami. And yet. She hasn't fired him yet. She does have ground to, with all the complaints that asshole of Todoroki periodically sends; she literally has a folder with over two hundred notices. Ordered from the newest to the oldest. And in order of severity. 

But there's always something that stops her, every time she thinks about it. It might be the knowledge that something like Takami managed to have a fucking kid - a nice one, too. She did meet Keigo; he's a sweetheart. Really, the only good thing that ever came out of that man -, it might be the advantage the company has with him working for them, it might be the paycheck increase she had because she's been the one hiring him, it might be the percentage that she gains from his deliveries because of the same reason.

Or. It might be the tired drawl whenever he speaks, the sighs that sometimes she hears, the misspelled delivery notes he leaves in the app, like he has trouble with both writing and reading anything higher than hiragana, it might be the tiredness she can see basically engraved in every single inch of his body those rare times he comes to the headquarters to renew his profile picture and the quirk usage permit. It might be the eye bags underneath his eyes, dark enough to be mistaken for his markings, from afar. Might be the fact that even though he technically doesn't have a timetable to follow, he's never been too late for a shift unless something happened, and most importantly, he's never been absent with no notice. It sounds like a fucking joke, that somebody like Takami is so damn loyal to his job, as shitty as said job can be.

... 

Okay.

Okay, it also might be the picture that Keigo drew her that one time Takami had to bring the kid with him because he was sick and couldn't go to school, but he also couldn't leave him at home because nobody was there to watch him. The fledgling had to wait half an hour or so while Takami was busy with the Commission for the permit, so she had to stay with him. A lovely kid, that one, really. Quiet, calm. He only asked for some paper and a pen, and when he was ready to leave he gifted her a 'portrait'. It's one of the ugliest things she's ever seen, the proportions aren't right and there are too many smiling suns in the sky. Also she's holding Takami's hand, in the picture. And she's smiling. As she said, ugly. That's why she keeps it taped to the wall to the left of her desk, in bright sight, to scare people off. Yes.

Goddamnit. She groans and scratches at her neck once again, irritated, while dialing the phone number of the other department on her pc. 

The sooner she starts that call, the sooner she can pretend to forget about that winged idiot.

★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

If somebody were to ask Toyomitsu which day of the week was his favourite, he’d surely say ‘Saturday’. Not because it’s the first day of the weekend, no, but because it’s his busiest day. The Happy Dragon is a staple in the routine of many, many inhabitants of the block, and he really enjoys seeing some friendly faces at his tables, loves serving them good food and hearing the restaurant full of quiet chatter and the warmth proper of a lot of people enjoying themselves in the same space.

Yeah, Toyomitsu loves Saturdays.

Even more so because they’re the perfect chance to check in with one of his regulars, even if never as a customer.

The little delivery tablet pings with a new notification, and Toyomitsu goes to check the order that just came in, and… Yes, there it is. Two servings of butajiru, one of shrimp jiaozi and some steamed broccoli, with a note saying to ‘please be sure that the vegetables are nice and soft, thank you’. Toyomitsu recognizes the address by now; it’s the one of an old couple who uses to come by all year long, except when it’s either too hot or, like now, too cold. Health comes first, reason why he decided to adhere to this delivery thing, to allow his patrons to enjoy his cooking even if they couldn’t reach his restaurant themselves.

Humming under his breath, Toyomitsu starts cooking. Reheats the broth he made just that morning, drops some carrots, cabbage, onions and whatever other veggie he can think of inside to let them cook and take in all the broth’s flavours, and starts wrapping the jiaozi. A look at the time makes him decide on a whim to make four portions instead of the three he was planning on, and since he had a little bit of shrimp paste left and enough dough disks he adds two or three or five jiaozi to the pan. Once they’re cooked, he divides them into four portions, two of which regular and the other two with the add-ons, then goes to check the soup.

He hears the delivery tablet ping again, this time with the notification that tells him that the order can now be accepted by the delivery riders, and then it makes another little noise because it’s already been accepted.

And, soon enough, he can hear somebody coming in.

“Irasshaimase!” comes as a second instinct to him after all these years, and instead of silence Toyomitsu is answered with

“’Evening. How’s it going?”

Which makes him smile a little to himself, still turned towards the burners, but he doesn’t waste time going and greet one of his favourite patrons.

“Takami, good evening! It’s going great, thank you. What about you? Getting some interesting orders lately?” asks, going to pour him some water, which he then brings to the man.

And takes it as an excuse to look at him better. 

There are little droplets of water on his clothes, especially on his shoulders and sleeves, and what looks like ice crystals dotting the fabric. 

It’s pretty late; the Najima ordered food for tomorrow’s lunch, so Toyomitsu is pretty sure that the ice’s the result of flying at this hour, with this cold and humidity. 

Takami takes the glass of water with a grateful nod, drinking half of it in one go, and then leans against the counter in a way that Toyomitsu recognizes immediately, after a life working in a kitchen, as the ‘I’m so tired and my feet hurt and I can’t feel my legs but I can’t sit down so let’s try to make it look as natural as possible’ way.

And that won’t do, not under his roof. 

“Eh, goin’ great. Little cold outside, but not as much as I thought, honestly. Could be way worse,” is Takami’s answer, quite dismissive, but Toyomitsu doesn’t mind it.

He just makes sure to slow down his movements and cooking to give Takami as much time as possible to enjoy the warmth.

“It’s going to be another twenty minutes or so,” he announces, and Takami first stiffens slightly, then forces himself to relax.

“Aye, no problem for me,” he simply answers, and Toyomitsu knows it’s true because he asked for information from another regular rider.

They’re paid a starting amount of money per fifteen minutes from the moment they accept the order to when they pick it up, and then the shorter the delivery time, the better the addendum.

He refills Takami’s glass of water because it literally costs him nothing, and then offers a cup of tea, which Takami politely accepts.

The vegetables are ready by now, but he leaves them to cook in the broth for a little longer, to satisfy his customer's request. Old age is difficult on the body, so Toyomistu throws some pork in it, doing it now to avoid it becoming gummy, and lets everything simmer on low heat while he packs another order that he didn't receive. Puts in the bag the extra positions of jiaozi, some leftover misou soup from that morning that wouldn't be good enough to sell tomorrow - but perfectly safe to consume anyway, just not the quality he feels like making his customers pay for -, a little bit of pan fried vegetables that he somehow made extra while prepping a serving for another couple of customers, and a can of cola, because he doesn't really sell them and he has to get rid of them somehow before they expire. So, he goes to the little delivery tablet with the bags, fiddles with it til he reaches the 'options' panel, takes a breath, and starts the preview notification noise for a deleted order.

"Aw, it got cancelled," Toyomitsu mutters to himself, trying to sound as convincing as possible. 

Takami doesn't even try to be subtle about hearing him, not after all the times he faked this very interaction during the years they've been basically working together. "Huh? Always the same dude?" asks, with an unamused twist to his lips. "Ya should stop acceptin' his orders, 's just a time waster. Report it. Or, er, I could report him for you. Y'know. If he wants to be a nuisance to you, you can be a nuisance to him. Toucan play that game."

Toyomitsu shakes his head, fighting back a small smile for the - objectively - bad joke he just heard. Still, he finds them amusing, somehow. "No, no, it's not- It isn't necessary, really. But thank you for your offer," he quickly says, randomly tapping on the little tablet's screen to fake him deleting the order's nonexistent notification, then drops the big paper bag with the 'cancelled' order on the little desk behind the counter on which he keeps the cashier and a few trinkets his son gifted him. Then, he looks up at Takami.

Takami is looking at the bag, predictively. He's trying to be subtle; he surely is to an uncaring eye, but Toyomitsu cares about all of his customers. 

"Do you want to bring it home?" asks, voice carefully casual.

Takami stiffens, takes a sip of his tea. It's only the first or the second one, Toyomitsu notices, as if he's just keeping the mug in his hands to try and warm them up as much as possible. "Why're you offering? Just unpack it and sell it. 'S good food, isn't it?"

"Well, it's good, yes, but it's already been packed. If the WHML gets to know it, they'd fine me and revoke my licence, and I'd really like for that to not happen. And that aside, I'm closing in half an hour; selling it tomorrow would be a disservice to my patrons."

It's a known dance by now, an exchange born from Takami's prideful nature. He's not one to cower, he's not one to accept other people's help just because, not if he feels like he can make it on his own. It's like- it's like he's not used to having a community, to have free help when needed. Well, Toyomitsu's kindness doesn't have a price tag attached, and if he has to use some little white lie to convince Takami to accept it, then he'll become the best white-liar in the world. 

Takami looks at him for a few seconds, then looks down at what's visible of the bag from where he is, clearly gauging his options. His eyes do that peculiar thing with their pupils where they dilate and then go back to being pinpricks, then he blinks and they go back to normal, as if nothing happened. 

"How much do I owe ya for the food?"

"Nothing at all, little one. It's on the house. I would have to throw it away anyway, and you know I don't like to waste food."

By the way Takami looks at him, he doesn't believe him one bit. But then the man sighs and nods, taking another sip from his mug. "Aye, 'kay. I'll free you of this weight or whatever," he mutters, unconvinced.

The fact that the appeal of free food is enough for him to forget his morals and his pride is enough to make Toyomitsu's heart quiver in his chest, but he doesn't focus on it. If the little one doesn't want to talk about it, Toyomitsu won't force him.

"How is Keigo?" asks instead, turning to a safer topic of conversation, and he's rewarded with the light that brightens Takami's eyes as soon as he hears his kid's name.

"Good. Heh, kinda. He took some sort of flu or something, I dunno, ‘ couple of kids in his class have it too. Doc said 's nothing serious, but the. Ugh. The avian mutants' one" - the name is said with such disgust Toyomitsu almost winces. But he knows why, Takami told him. Oftentimes 'mutant specialists' are just vets who changed careers, which is astonishingly dehumanizing and terribly inaccurate at the same time. He wishes he could do something about it, but he's powerless - "said to keep an eye on 'im anyway. He's with a friend right now an' I'm gonna cut my shift short, but I ain't stoppin' til ten, so."

Which is in twenty minutes, by now. The slang Takami's using reminds Toyomitsu of his own son, of the way he's growing and having new friends and adjusting to their way of speech.

It also reminds him how tired Takami must feel.

So, he chitchats with him a little more, shares some accomplishments of his own son while wrapping up Najima's order, and then he hands both that bag and the 'canceled order' one. 

"Here, hot and ready. If you go home after delivering this one, you won't even have to re-heat it!"

Takami takes the bags, tying the order carefully to the little carabiner he keeps roped on his belt, to be sure to not drop it accidentally while flying if something happens, and holds his own food much more carelessly. "Thank you. See ya," he just says, exiting the restaurant while Toyomitsu's still answering him.

He doesn't get offended, not when he knows it's a way for Takami to try and 'save his face', the man would say. He just goes to start cleaning up the kitchen, bringing with him Takami's empty mug. 

He'll need to make another order of Sencha tea, maybe adding a box or two of chinsuko cookies. He knows Keigo likes them.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Sleeping is weird. Keigo likes sleeping; he likes it most when he goes to sleep at night and then wakes up the next morning a little before their alarm, and Dad is there on the futon curled up around him, keeping him warm with his wings. It's Keigo's favourite part of the day, really.

And that's how he wakes up today, to Dad's quiet snoring, interrupted sometimes by some whistles because of his quirk. He likes it, likes to listen to him and answer with some soft coo under his breath. They help calm Dad down when he's having a nightmare, too. Not today, though; today the morning is quiet and lazy, because it's Sunday and there's no school on Sunday, and Dad decided to take this day off because it's Keigo's birthday and the knowledge finally catches up with his sleepy brain and he chirps, fluttering his wings all happy because it's my birthday!

Maybe he's been too loud, because Dad groans under his breath and half opens one eye, looking at Keigo through the semi-darkness in the room. They sleep with the curtain a little open because he doesn't like the dark; it's scary. " 'Igo...? Mhh, hey, babyfeathers, y'good...?" Dad whispers, nuzzling a little closer to Keigo.

Keigo giggles. "Mhmh, 'm good," answers, voice low to not disturb Dad too much. Then, "Today's Sunday."

"Mhh? Re'lly? 'Lre'dy...?"

"Mhmh!" 

Dad mutters something else, voice too low to allow Keigo to understand him, and it takes him almost ten seconds to remember why Sunday is so important. But finally he does, opening his eyes wide and grinning like he just found some meat on sale. "Oh, it is Sunday...! I wonder if it's a special Sunday or not, though."

Keigo giggles again and worms his way out of Dad's embrace, standing on the futon. " 'S my birthday!"

Dad laughs under his breath and opens his arms, still lying down, and Keigo flutters his wings and jumps on Dad's chest, snuggling up against him. "It is, Kei, it is. Happy birthday to the best chick in the world. And outside of this world. The whole galaxy. Universe, even," Dad starts saying, taking advantage of their positions to meanly tickle Keigo all over his belly and under his arms, and Keigo bursts into laughter, trying to shield himself from the attack.

"Noooo! Da- Dad! Stooooppp!"

Dad laughs and doesn't stop for another few seconds, and when he does, he hugs Keigo tighter, maybe a little too tight, but he doesn't feel like complaining. He likes it, feels safe under Dad's feathers, like they're a shield between them and the world. 

Dad sighs, then hides his face in Keigo's hair, leaves a soft little kiss right on its crown, where he knows Keigo likes.

"I love you, Keigo. So much," he hums, but there's something in his voice that's not right. 

Keigo feels his feathers fluttering, and he hears the way Dad's breath catches in his throat, just like Keigo himself does when he's about to cry, and why is Dad sad...?

"Dad...? You okay...?" asks, worried, trying to look up at him, but Dad just nods with another little, tired laugh.

"Aye aye, 'm peachy. Jus' felt a little of your down feathers in my eye, tha's it."

Keigo doesn't really believe him, but he just nods and snuggles closer. Then, after a bit, "Dad?"

"Mh?"

"Can we go at the convenience store? Together? To buy lunch an' dinner?"

Dad doesn't even think about it, he immediately nods. "Sure thing. Wanna go right now? Before breakfast? So we can take somethin' on the way, or directly there? Whatcha think?"

Keigo's feathers immediately bristle, happy, and his wings flap a little, even. "Yes! Yes yes yes! Please!"

Dad just grins at him and lets him go, stretching like a big, big cat, all talons and fangs out, before rising to his feet and off the futon. "'Kay, go to the bathroom first." A look at his wristwatch, "If we're quick enough we can even catch the bus."

Keigo makes a face at that, and his Dad snickers. "'M joking, 'm joking. We'll take the Shinyo Express, aye?"

It's now Keigo's turn to snicker, but he nods and goes to the bathroom. "Yes! And when I'll be older we'll take the Keigo Express!"

"Aye, Chickzilla! That's the spirit!"

Keigo uses the bathroom, quick but careful to brush his teeth real good, then he goes back to their room to change while Dad takes his turn, and then they're both out and about, high up in the sky. Keigo is ecstatic as always, both arms and wings all spread out to catch every drift of air, every current, every whiff of condensation because it's still so cold outside and they're flying low to not freeze.

It takes less than ten minutes for them to reach their favourite convenience store, but Keigo's hands are already so so cold despite the big fluffy jacket he's wearing, so he's more than happy to get inside the store to warm himself up. Dad follows him immediately and takes one of the baskets before wandering into the aisles. 

Keigo takes a few steps, enjoying the warmth of the ambient, before stopping on his tracks as soon as he sees all the different packages of instant noodles exposed right at the entrance of the store. So colourful. Shiny. He's staring at them with big eyes, he knows, but he can't fight it. They're so colourful! He wants all of them.

It's only when Dad nudges him on the shoulder that Keigo finally blinks and looks away, and up to his Dad's face. Then, he blushes, because he's been caught staring. 

Dad just chuckles. "Y'see something you like?" Asks, because he can be mean sometimes, and Keigo pouts.

"No."

Dad laughs again, a little. "Hey, they restocked the chicken flavour. You want some? Maybe for tomorrow dinner?" He suggests, picking up a bright red package with a cute chicken on top that's eating some noodles. Then, he shakes it a little.

It's Keigo's turn to giggle, and he reaches up to the package. "Lemme see!" 

Dad hands it to him and Keigo tries his best to read the hiragana written on top. Then, he nods and drops it in the basket. 

Dad frowns, just a little, in perfect time with a little grumble from Keigo's belly. "You hungry? There's the bakery section down the aisle. Let's get you something for breakfast, shall we?" Asks, holding out his hand for Keigo to take.

He does immediately, with a little chirp and a flutter of his wings. "I want the snow baschee, please!" It's one of his favourite sweets ever, and since it's a winter edition it's like they make it for his birthday!

"Sure thing, babyfeathers. We're gonna grab a couple, aye? So you have some for tonight and tomorrow," Dad suggests, and Keigo immediately nods.

"Yes please!"

And so on and forth, they reach the sweets aisle, take as many snow baschee cakes as possible, and when they go past some chips Keigo asks for those too, putting them in the basket when Dad nods. Keigo doesn't miss him putting away some other item to allow him to buy the candies, doesn't miss Dad's expression while scraping off some other words from the short mental list he always has. He feels so guilty. He doesn't need the candies, but as soon as he tries to say something about it, his Dad shushes him and ruffles his hair and smiles and says it's okay, and Keigo is... He's bad, because he insists only once before keeping his chips. 

He'll share them with Dad, so it'll be like Dad bought them for himself too, he decides.

As soon as they're outside, they find a bench to eat their breakfast, and Dad makes sure to open the bottle of cold green tea they got.

Keigo's not even a third into his cake, wings all puffed up in happiness, when Dad's phone starts to ring.

Dad takes it out, frowns at the number, then drops the call.

A minute later, it starts again. This time Dad doesn't even acknowledge it.

The third time, an annoyed chirp leaves his Dad's mouth, and he stands up abruptly, leaving the bottle of tea and his cake on the bench. "I gotta answer, or they'll never stop. I'll be quick, promise," he just says, before moving some steps away - close enough to keep an eye on Keigo, always close enough to keep an eye on Keigo. It makes Keigo feel warm, safe, cared for. Loved -.

He's close, though. Close enough that if Keigo focuses, he can hear what's being said in the phone call. Dad's side of it, at least. 

"What? Yes. It's today. Yeah. No." A snort, unamused. Irritated. "Fuck no, fuck off. Ya lost your right to be an uncle when you kicked his ass on the fuckin' curb. Aye, still pissed 'bout that. I ain't perfect either, but I'm not gonna make a child go homeless jus' 'cause of pride. Choke on it. Ah ah, yeah. Aye. Pretty sure he don't remember it. Thank the gods, I'd say. Oh, so y'wanna be in his life but ya don' even remember how many years he has? Kinda hawk-ward, isn't it?" A chuckle, the one that usually means he has successfully annoyed somebody. "Nine. And if I'm doin' things right he'll live nine more without even see your fugly mug ever again. Yup. Na-ah, no. Fuck you, yeah, I ain’t at work today. Night shift. I’m gonna spend the day with Keigo. Oh, shut up, I work at least, instead of bein' a fucking yakuza or however your pompous illegal circle of friends wanna call itself. I don' need no money from you. Yeah. No. No, 'm done. Not gonna waste my kid's birthday and my day off talkin' to you. Don't call again."

And then he drops the call. He stays there a little more, though, head low, breath too regular in his lungs to be natural. Keigo knows the difference very well after the few panic attacks he experienced in his short life. He hears his Dad sniffle, but when he looks at Keigo, he smiles and goes back to him.

"Hiya, kiddo. Sorry, some annoying call centre or whatever," Dad says, sitting back beside him. "So, where were we? You tellin' me 'bout some kid at your school?"

Keigo wants to investigate, wants to ask questions, wants to know why this 'uncle' calls at every celebration, wants to know what that 'yakuza' thing Dad mentioned is, wants to know why they're not in contact with that man anymore. He's family, isn't he? If Dad called him 'uncle'. Wants to know why Dad has to always work himself til he can’t walk straight, why he can’t rest even when it’s his day off, why he needs to continue doing so much for him while he doesn’t do anything for him.

(He needs to study, so he’ll be able to have an important job and Dad won’t have to work anymore. He’ll have all the free days in the world and spend them napping and flying and just doing all the things he doesn’t do now. Can’t do now.)

But he sees the way his Dad's eyes are a little wet, a little red-rimmed, how his smirk isn't as wide as always, how his mind is not completely there with them, at the moment, but lost in some far-away memory, like he does when he wakes up from a nightmare.

Grownups have them too, and they must be so scary to make his Dad mumble and scream and agitate like that. 

So, he doesn't ask. He keeps quiet, ignores everything, and hopes that he'll have the chance to know, one day. Maybe Dad will tell him himself, who knows.

For now, he's going to enjoy his birthday with his favourite people ever, the first of them sitting right beside him, with one wing draped against his shoulders, to keep him warm while he heats his cake.

"Yes! His name's 'Touya'. He's a little bit older, we played together in the schoolyard during breaks! He has a fire quirk! It's so cool! Did you know-..."

★★★★★ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Luck doesn't exist. The thing that people usually call 'luck' is just the result of practice and hindsight gathered after so many failures they’re impossible to count. It's just the repetition of a situation, of an act, a thought process, everything.

Luck doesn't exist.

But Shinyo's oh so sure that bad luck does exist, and has perfect aim, because there's no other way to explain how the fuck he can't catch his breath.

He's been out with Keigo for a couple of hours by now; they didn't buy many perishables during their little grocery trip, and it's cold enough that even what little they have won't get spoiled if they stay out for a bit longer. And they're about to pass by the park when he hears Keigo's wings flutter.

"Dad! Can we stop a little? Please?" he asks, pointing to the park, and he does that thing with his eyes that  makes them look so big and shiny and,

" 'Course we can," is his immediate answer.

So, Keigo trots away, directed to the swing set, and Shinyo goes to sit on a bench close by, so he can keep an eye on him while relaxing for a second. Gods, his legs are killing him. And his core and his wings. And his back. Those shifts are slowly eroding his resistance; he feels like he's fifty instead of not even thirty. Damn.

So, he's catching his breath, enjoying Keigo's little coos and chirps of happiness while he swings as high as he can go, when he hears a hitch. And then,

"Takami?"

Asks a voice that's, unfortunately, still well known even after almost a decade.

Shinyo doesn't even try to stifle his own groan; he couldn't care less about what that bitch thinks of him. "Shunko," he greets, voice flat, eyes straying for a few seconds from his chick to the - honestly - tank of a woman that's hesitantly approaching him from his right.

He immediately growls, sound low in his throat, barely enough to be heard by her feline ears and- oh.

Behind her, a little hidden. Two kids. Are they-...

"Hayato?" he calls, caught off guard.

The kid- well. The teen's feathers ruffle just a tiny bit, enough to tell Shinyo that he heard him, not too much to avoid drawing attention to himself. And if that's Hayato, then,

"Tsumi?"

The little girl's eyes light up immediately, a little grin showing her tiny fangs, and she nods, even if she keeps quiet.

Oh, Gods. It's been so long since he last saw them. Keigo was still an eyas. Well, more of an eyas. 

Shunko clears her throat, somewhat politely, and breaks the moment in one of the most annoying ways possible - even if it would be impossible for her to not be annoying, to be fair -.

"We have some time to spare," she says, looking straight at Shinyo with that 'holier than thou' expression she always has while talking to him before turning to her kids, "Go play. Be nice to the fledgling."

Shinyo bares his teeth, uncaring of the threat, feathers bristling on his back, wings opening to appear bigger and more daunting. "Eyas," he specifies, being sure to spell it out for the idiot in front of him.

Shunko snarls, but takes a look at Hayato - wings as spread as Shinyo's, eyes fixated on his, on the threat, Tsumi slightly behind him, covering her with his own body - before taking a long breath and nodding.

"Be gentle to the eyas," she corrects herself.

Hayato doesn't move. He doesn't move until Shinyo folds his wings back and forces himself to relax on the bench. Only then does the tonic paralysis detangle its talons from his nephew's body, allowing him to scutter away with Tsumi - which is, surprisingly, not scared at all. Her heart sounded more enthusiastic than scared, in contrast with her brother -.

He points at them nearing Keigo at the swing set, and as soon as Keigo notices them he flutters down from the seat, using his wings to glide on the ground.

"May I sit?" Shunko asks, breaking Shinyo's focus on the kids, and he waves a hand at her, uncaring. 

Hears her taking a seat beside him, as far away as the bench allows, but he doesn't care. He strains his hearing to try and hear the conversation that's happening among the kids. It's a little difficult with the ambient sounds, but he manages anyway.

"So... Who are you?" Keigo asks, uncertain. He's looking at Shinyo, clearly intimidated by the bigger predator in front of him, but he doesn't have anything to fear.

Shinyo would be on Hayato before the boy could land a single feather on his chick.

"We're your cousins! I'm Tsumi! And he's Hayato!" Some nudging, "Hayato! Say 'hi'!"

"... Mh. Yes. Hi."

"Don't mind him, he's like that, but! I swear he's nice after a while!"

"... Mkay." Keigo doesn't sound convinced at all. Gods, what is he doing? Why did he choose to allow this? He should have said no, should have taken Keigo as far away from them as possible.

"Why the fuck are you here, by the way? Harima doesn't work in this part of the town," asks Shunko, because he'd rather tolerate her annoying drawl than to not know.

"Vacation. We're under Christmas, after all."

Shinyo snorts. "Aye, Christmas. The holiday ya spend with your husband, usually."

Shunko doesn't answer. 

Shinyo's hitting below the belt, he knows it, can perfectly remember how Junto is when he's in one of his moods, but still. 

The kids are playing together, now. Kinda. Tsumi's so excited to getting to know Keigo, apparently, while Keigo's hesitant to play with her because he's wary with strangers - as he should -; Hayato is kinda creepy, just looking at them, but a quick read of both his body language and his expression tells him that he's just protective over his sister, not threatening Keigo, so that makes his creepiness okay-ish. Ugh. He looks too much like Junto when he was his age, maybe a little older. Not physically, no, but the way he moves portrays himself, the forceful polite lint he gave to the few words he pronounced until now, the sharpness in his eyes. It's odd. It's familiar. It makes something shrink in Shinyo's chest.

"You don't seem surprised by seeing Hayato," Shunko decides to break the silence a few minutes later.

"Aye, no, Junto's a chatty drunk. Emotional, too. So un-pheasant to have ‘round. Tha's why he doesn't drink with others. Called me the night he got to know the kid grew wings; he was basically crying and whining on the phone." Shinyo was basically crying on the phone too, because that had been the first time Junto called him after kicking him and Keigo out, after forcing them to live on the street, after cutting him from any kind of income he had up until now.

Shunko doesn't answer, and Shinyo honestly doesn't care if she got offended by getting to know yet another side of Junto that the asshole kept from her. He just tunes her out, not that she's talkative on her own, and focuses on the kids. 

On Keigo, to be precise.

He moved to the slide, on the side with the monkey bars and some obstacles and all of that stuff, and he's now explaining to Tsumi the rules to some kind of game he plays with his classmates? He thinks? Shinyo doesn't know, but Keigo's smiling, so it sits well with him. 

Hayato is looking over them, seemingly unsure if he's allowed to play with them or not, but he sometimes chimes in with some observation about the rules, it seems, because

"If you get tagged twice and you're eliminated, then Tsumi immediately wins, since you're playing in two."

"Noooo! You're playing with us!"

"Yes! Or you don't wanna? You can go sit with Dad and your mom if you want, and we change the rules a lil bit!"

A few beats of silence, the curious bristle of feathers.

"I'd rather play. You said you're good at this game, right?"

"Aye!" - Shinyo physically flinches when he hears Keigo answer like that. It's okay it's okay it's okay, he's safe. He's okay. He's safe. He picked it up because he hears you saying it all the time. It's okay.

Shunko notices his reaction, of course, but she doesn't comment on it. 

Shinyo refuses to believe it's out of the kindness of her heart. He got confirmation in the past that she doesn't have one in her chest.

Some of the conversation between the kids was lost, but catching up is quite easy, especially with the way Hayato is just running for his life from Keigo while Tsumi sits on top of the monkey bars, swinging her legs and cheering. 

Huh.

Maybe seeing the teen run away from him triggered Keigo's hunting instincts or something, but the way he runs is full of purpose, like he knows he will catch up; he even flutters his wings to detach himself from the ground, gaining speed.

Yet, Hayato is faster than him; half because he's older, yes, but half is just Junto's. He's always been the fastest between the two of them. Shinyo misses racing with him in the sky, he misses it like he misses the flock that they were, the flock they could have been all together, him and Junto and Keigo, Hayato and Tsumi too.

Anyway, the teen is smiling, too. A sharp little grin that looks almost out of place on his face, that lights up his eyes, makes them light up with curiosity and intelligence, the red as deep as fresh blood. Shinyo would know. And he looks so free and carefree and young, so damn young. Younger than Junto when he gave up his wings, even though not too much. Young- as young as Shinyo was when he got 'em almost ripped off his back by Junto himself. 

He pushes the memories in the furthest corner of his memory possible, as away from reality as his brain allows him, and repeats to himself that no, Hayato's not going to hurt Keigo as Junto hurt him. 

Shinyo won't allow it. 

"It's rare to see him so enthusiastic about something," Shunko suddenly says, and Shinyo's almost grateful for the distraction.

Almost.

"Yeah? Wonder why, with the set of parents he has," he just muses. Doesn't miss the way Shunko's teeth grind, doesn't miss the breath she takes to keep her cool.

"Junto loves him."

That makes him snort. "Ha, aye, loves 'im so much he gave it away the second he saw he didn't have wings, just to take him back when they appeared. You won't ever convince me that asshole is fit to be a father."

"And you are?"

Something churns into Shinyo's stomach, something bad and ugly, and he does his best to keep it down, to keep it under control, because he's out with Keigo and it's his kid's birthday, and he doesn't want to ruin it with blood and a police report and the risk of being arrested over a bitch like that. Takes a deep breath, forces his talons to retract, to not be so sharp, so ready to sink deep into Shunko's carotid artery and rip.

Especially because-

"Fuck no. I'm so not cut to be a father," he finds himself admitting, for no reason at all. She doesn't need more bullets in her magazine, doesn't need more arrows in her quiver, and yet. "I swear to the Gods, every day I wake up and I still think that it's been all a dream, y'know? Tsuki, you, Jun. Keigo. But then I feel him snugglin' up and fuck, no, 's real, and I'm such a lucky bastard for having him as my kid. I dunno from which he took any of his kindness and happiness and all of that, but he's a good kid, he's the best kid, and he deserves the best. 'M just tryin' to give it to him." 

There's too much truth in his words, too much vulnerability in his eyes, Shinyo is perfectly aware of it, but he can't do much, not now, not while he's looking at Keigo and the child is smiling and giggling and laughing and chirping and playing with his cousins and-

"He's happy. You're doing a good enough job," Shunko just says, voice low, calm. Shinyo's heart drops. He didn't know how much he needed to hear this, how much her words uncoiled something deep within his soul, something that he didn't know was even coiled in the first place. He feels like he can take the first, long breath after nine years spent drowning, and if that breath comes out with a soft coo, with just the smallest hint of a sob, then it's nobody's business. And then, since she just can't be nice for once in her fucking life, "The kid is still alive and breathing. With a Takami as a father, it's already a victory."

Shinyo snorts. He catches even himself off guard, but he snorts, and then he laughs, because honestly, "Yeah. Yeah, ya're right," he murmurs to himself.

They don't talk much after that. Well, they've never talked much, but they spend the next hour or so just sitting there on the bench, Shunko all properly sitting, prime and rigid like she has a pole up her ass, Shinyo sprawled on the other half of the bench, his bag of groceries between them.

Then, Shinyo's phone buzzes with a notification.

> Arano: everything's ready.

Shinyo texts back a quick 'on our way' before pocketing his phone once again and rising to his feet. 

"Kei, we gotta go, or the food will go bad!" he calls, picking the bag up.

Keigo immediately stops, obedient, but he looks a bit disappointed. He exchanges a couple of words with the other kids, and then all three of them approach their parents.

"Dad?" 

Shinyo crouches down to get to Keigo's height, helping him to fix his clothes, a little disheveled from the games he played. "Yes, babychirps?"

"Can Hayato and Tsumi come with us? They'll be good, I promise! I jus' wanna show 'em the DVD thingy and watch a movie together."

Shinyo's heart constricts in his chest. He doesn't even look at Shunko before answering. " 'M 'fraid they can't, kiddo. They're busy, y'know?"

Keigo's wings drop a little, like they always do when he's disappointed. "But..."

"It's okay! We can organize another playdate! Mother knows your Dad already, so they can plan it for us! And when Hayato is old enough he'll bring me here, so no need to disturb Mother! Right, Yato?"

The teen regained all of the composure he had when they first met, standing all straight and prime and looking like he's forcing himself to appear as detached from the moment as possible. Reminds Shinyo of Shunko, now that he looks at them side by side without the fear of being basically eaten alive. It's eerie. Still, hearing Tsumi breaks his mask, because he nods, short and solemn. "If Father allows it," he just replies.

Tsumi's own wings mirror Keigo's, but her smile never leaves his face. "Okay then! Happy birthday, Keigo! See you soon!" she exclaims, jumping a little on her feet before darting forward, making space for herself on Shinyo's chest in a tight hug.

A hug that he doesn't have the chance to reciprocate, half because it startles him, half because Shunko immediately grabs her by the arm. And she does it too tightly, tight enough to make Shinyo's own feathers ruffle in alarm at seeing an eyas being treated like that.

But before he could do anything, Hayato grips Shunko's wrist, shooting a glare at her so cold that Keigo shuffles closer to Shinyo, as if scared. Shinyo hovers over his little shoulders with one of his own wings.

A long, silent conversation flows between mother and son before Shunko slowly releases Tsumi's arm. Hayato takes her from the shoulder, way more gently even if firmly, and brings her a little behind himself, farther away from Shunko, while pinning her on the spot with his gaze.

A shiver runs down Shinyo's spine because those are Junto's eyes. Not the colours, no, Hayato's are more human-like, with a white sclera, but the intensity is the same. 

If he doesn't go into tonic immobility it's just because he's almost thirty, now, and Hayato is still a kid.

The tense silence is broken by Tsumi herself, who is trying to discreetly massage the area gripped by her mother. "I'm so happy we finally met, Uncle. Father always talks about you," she says, polite, still smiling, even if a little less enthusiastic than before.

Shinyo doesn't know what to say to that, to getting to know that Junto hadn't actually banished his name and existence from his household, so he doesn't answer. He just raises to his feet and nods. " 'S been a pleasure for me too, Tsumi," he just says, because it's true, technically. The kids are alright, it's the mother who is the problem. "Hayato. Take care of your lil sister, will ya?"

The kid looks like he wants to say something, to ask oh so many questions, but he doesn't dare. He just nods again, rigid. "I will. Goodbye, Uncle." He's wise, he chooses the right word to bid his farewell. Shinyo doubts they'll meet again.

He watches them go, Shunko walking like she's alone, almost uncaring of the children who tail her, and Hayato getting sure that Tsumi walks on the right side of the curb, the one far away from the cars, one little hand held tightly to avoid seeing her wander away after anything that catches her attention.

Only when they turn a corner does Shinyo feel himself relax his shoulders and his wings, and he looks down at Keigo, forcing a little smile on his lips. "Shall we go?"

Keigo's still looking in the direction his cousins disappeared from, but as soon as he hears Shinyo speak, he looks up at him and just nods. " 'Kay..."

"Hey, babyfeathers. You good?"

"Mhmh. Just. I wanted to play with 'em a lil more. They're fun. Why I didn't know them?"

Shinyo wishes he could answer. He wishes he could explain about family history, and trauma, and too big decisions taken by too young kids. Wishes he could explain about feuds and despair and hopelessness and submission and loss and lack of identity and autonomy, wishes he could just vomit it all out, spit it under the weak sun of this winter day for the whole world to see. Wishes he could talk about Junto. But.

But this is Keigo. He's just a kid. He's the best kid, and he doesn't deserve this. So he just forces another little smile and tickles his son on the back of his neck with the tip of his wing, making him giggle and walk a little faster to try and avoid the touch.

" 'S a long story, Kei. I'll tell you when you'll be older, 'kay?"

Keigo nods, seemingly having found his smile again. " 'Kay, Dad!"

So, they walk back home, stopping at every red light because Keigo needs to learn that's what you do to keep yourself safe, and they lose only one green light because the kid was cold and Shinyo wrapped him all good with his own scarf. And while they walk, Keigo tells him about every game he played with Hayato and Tsumi, about what they like and what they don't, about how similar and different they are from that Touya kid, and Shinyo listens to him and asks questions and makes him laugh and chirp in delight, and his heart is so full he feels like it might explode.

Keigo is a happy kid, but it's quite rare to see him so happy.

It's second only to his expression when they come back home to the surprise party Arano organized for him. 

And while he's keeping an eye on things inside of the small apartment, feeling even more cramped with only two people more than normal - Arano himself and Touya, who agreed to come and brought a fucking expensive gift, goddamnit -, Shinyo receives a notification.

A bank notification, to be precise.

An incoming transfer.

An incoming transfer worth two million yen, from an anonymous account.

The only thing left in the note field is a simple:

<Don't tell Junto. Consider it a birthday gift for Keigo, buy him something nice. Time with you counts, unfortunately. -S>

Shinyo takes a minute to internalize the information. The fact that it actually happened. But yes, sixty seconds later the transfer is still there, the money is still in his account. 

So, he does the most logical thing.

He sends the million and a half yens he was missing to cover the payments for that fucker of a Todoroki and goes to his work app to delete all the shifts he slotted for the next two weeks.

Keigo runs up to him, about to say something, but must have seen something in Shinyo's expression, because he stops on his tracks. "Dad? You alright?"

Shinyo breathes. It comes out a little trembling, but he grins. "Yeah, 'm peachy, kiddo. And you know what? Tomorrow you'll skip school. We're going shopping, aye?"

Keigo's eyes lit up with delight, and a loud coo leaves his mouth. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. Go tell Touya, he can come with us, if his family wants."

Keigo's wings flutter while he runs to his friend, telling him the news with so much enthusiasm he almost knocks both of them over. Touya just laughs at his antics and nods.

"You're bringing him where, exactly?" Arano asks, voice low so as not to be heard by the kids. "Weren't you pulling an all-nighter and another day ssshift right after, tonight and tomorrow? Are ya jusssst tryin' to get a heart attack?"

Shinyo shakes his head and takes a sip from the glass of cola in his hand. "Na-ah. 'M free for a lil while. Took some vacation days, y'see? Gonna spend 'em with Kei, catch up with everything. Have fun."

Arano looks at him, Shinyo can feel it even while looking at the kids playing some sort of board game Touya gifted Keigo - in addition to the whole hand console with two games he already gifted him. Yeah. Crazy people, that kid's parents -, but he keeps quiet. Then,

"Enjoy your resst. You deserve it."

Shinyo, finally, feels like he does.