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Shirou sets his eyes down upon Anima City, holographic adverts of countless forms dance across the skyline. He’s long-since gotten used to the world’s rapid technological advances, but deep down, he knows that a certain young wolf would’ve been mesmerised by those lights. Holding tall and strong against the winds on the Medical Center roof, he basks in the sunset giving way to twilight. He was here once before, for an event he’d now rather forget. Letting children be thrown off skyscrapers is not something he thought he’d have to encounter twice in his lifetime, even as extended as it is.
“You never seemed to have a problem jumping into danger before.” He frankly observes his son.
Ryoku isn’t as poised as Shirou, peering over the edge in a display of languidness. The wind ripples across the small Beastman, ruffling his blue jacket and cream-coloured hair.
It’s so, so high up.
“T-that was different!” He begins protesting the challenge ahead of him. “This is like facing death straight in the face! One fuck-up, and I’m dead!” He pleads with his father.
Shirou is training Ryoku to use his wings, powers he inherited from his mother. He’s used them before, but never from this height, nor without a safety net (to his knowledge). This is his ultimate test.
“Language.” Shirou faux-chastises him, unyielding. He didn’t really care about the swearing, but just liked to be an asshole sometimes, old habits die hard.
Ryoku tries his best to scrutinise him. Shirou’s sight remain planted at Anima City with an ever-stoic gaze, and his trench coat rustles in the air like cape. He really is Batman in white. Ryoku thinks to himself. A small smile creeps up his lips. He considers his options for a second, and takes a different approach. “If I die, mom’s gonna kill you, ya’ know.”
That incites a reaction, with Shirou shooting him a semi-offended glare. Because he’s you know, immortal.
“She’d figure somethin’ out.” Ryoku smugly says.
She probably could. Shirou ponders, meeting the horizon, now becoming shrouded in darkness. “Possibly.”
Still nothing. “Don’t you think this is a bit too… extreme?” He tries again.
Shirou scoffs. “Back in my day, Beastman pups went through far tougher initiation rites than this.”
Ryoku chuckles. “The ‘back in my day’ card, really?”
“You said I should start acting my age, didn’t you? If I can’t be the grumpy old man in your life, who else will?”
Ryoku can’t help but appreciate his imitation, beaming at him endearingly. After a few moments, he snaps out of it. “You’ll jump and catch me if I can’t do it, right?” He pointedly asks.
“Yeah, and I’ll break all my bones doing-so.” Again. For a moment, Shirou’s eyes dart to the sky, landing at a bird Beastman circling overhead. An old friend ready to act if things go awry. He quickly slots them back to their place at the horizon, seemingly unfazed. Ryoku doesn’t notice.
“Pssh, no promises then? Harsh.” He says, slightly sullen.
“You’re not a pup anymore, you’ll be fine.”
“But-”
“You’ll be fine, Ryoku.”
Ryoku? Calling him by his name is something Shirou rarely does anymore… Ryoku isn’t falling for that, he’s a determined wolf! He won’t fall-in-line that easily! His body finally wills itself to turn around and face his father, to put him in his-
The plan immediately crumbles when Ryoku suddenly gets pulled into a hug, his snout disappearing into the folds of Shirou’s trench coat. He suddenly realises how cold he was, even in his jacket. Shirou’s body is basically a radiator, beast or human formed. He welcomes the sudden warmth.
Still, Ryoku blinks twice, his face dotted with a blankly confused expression. Touching wasn’t much Shirou’s thing anymore. He was a lot keener to physical affection when Ryoku was a baby. Shirou basically cried for an hour straight when he first held Ryoku in his arms. Michiru did a good job at coaxing those feelings out of him.
“You’ll be fine, Ryoku...” Shirou repeats.
The two stay like that for an uncomfortable amount of time. It’s a bit awkward, but honestly, Ryoku wouldn’t have it any other way right now. He closes his eyes and soaks in the closeness.
Sadly, it’s over as quickly as it began, as Shirou gradually pulls Ryoku back to face him. “I don’t put you in these situations because I know you’ll fail, I put you in them because I know you’ll succeed.”
Ryoku can only stare blindly at him, being held firmly by the shoulders.
“In my one-thousand years of being alive, I never been once wrong about someone’s capabilities, and that’s not going to start now with my own son.” Shirou bares lies through his teeth.
Despite his emboldening words, for the first time in a long while, Ryoku feels weak under his father.
Eventually, Shirou lets go. His hands slipping back into the deep pockets of his trench coat, eyes remaining locked with Ryoku’s, encouraging, but also expectant.
Ryoku thaws beneath that boring gaze. He takes a deep breath, then sighs, turning back towards the edge.
Time to leave the nest.
The cool night breeze dances around Ryoku, exposed to the cold air in his tank top. His jacket flaps in the wind, tied tightly around his waist, just like his mother used to do. He gazes over at the horizon, now only illuminated by the city lights. Taking in the blinding skyline, he looks down at the buildings on ground level. They look like ants from this height.
“Now or never.” Ryoku mutters, trying to reassure himself. He knows it’s not true though, Shirou would probably just grab him by the scruff and toss him off the building himself if he tries to chicken out now.
He secures the jacket around his waist one more time, then clamps his eyes shut before spinning around: his back facing the City, his front to his father. He doesn’t need to have his eyes open to know that Shirou is watching him diligently. The soles of shoes delicately balance on the rim of the roof, making him slightly teeter back and forth. All Ryoku needs to do now put his weight behind him.
It’s the same method, the same technique as you’ve always done, just let it happen.
But the stakes are higher this time. With his fists clenched, claws digging into the skin under his fur, Ryoku leans back.
It’s a funny feeling, blood suddenly rushing to your head. Aside from the air now blasting past his ears, it’d be his only giveaway to the free fall since he dares not open his eyes. The biting chill of the air starts to hammer his body, drawing his breath away as it increases in pressure. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this.
The force of the wind pries his eyes open, and suddenly, the whole world is upside-down. The iridescent neon colours of Anima City’s towers scatter through the night. The Ryoku is entranced, experiencing the sights from a brand new perspective, having always taken them for granted. Time almost slows to a crawl.
But it doesn’t last long.
One of the forks in the Medical Center whizzes by and brings him back into reality. Realising he missed it by a few mere meters, Ryoku panics. His heart beats erratically as he loses control of his form, tumbling. He sees the world in fragments, and desperately wants to close his eyes again, but that small voice in the back of his frenzied mind still nags him:
You’ve done this shit before.
That’s right, he’s done all of this before. Sometimes he launches off with the grace of a flying wolf, other times he hurtles through the air as a ball of limbs. But he has applied the lessons, everything that Michiru and Nazuna taught him, and hasn’t lost control like this since he first learned to fly as a kid when he was awakening to his powers. The idea that he’d be doing-so again now at his ultimate test with Shirou watching isn’t just tragic, it’s unacceptable.
Now more angry than terrified, Ryoku puts the adrenaline to good use.
He fights the sky, kicking and strafing to straighten himself out. Sooner or later, he’s like an arrow, but hurling towards the ground instead of gliding through the air.
Next, he twists around to face away from the City, in preparation to pitch up. The towers of Anima reflect across the glass windows of the Medical Center, seemingly jutting out of the sky like spires.
Now in the correct position, he splays his arms out, and lets the magic do its thing.
He feels the sparks, his arms morphing into wings of fire and lightning, sprouting feathers that shed in the gale. He progressively spreads them out further and further as he levels his body, pulling up as hard he can. Only then, does he close his eyes again. If it’s too late, he doesn’t want the last thing on his mind to be the rapidly approaching asphalt. Ryoku thinks of his mother.
The roar of the wind in his ears quells as distant sounds of traffic and nightlife take its place, the rush against his fur and skin fades away, his wings bearing a heavy weight. Ryoku feels lighter than air. He apprehensively opens an eye, and the next quickly follows. He isn’t falling anymore. The familiar view of cityscape graces his eyes, the toothiest grin making its way across his muzzle.
“I-I did it!” Ryoku exclaims to no one in particular.
The excitement quickly subsides, least for the moment. Not wanting to come this far to only crash into a billboard, he flutters his wings to control his speed and latitude. He rides the night gales and drafts to greater and greater heights, surmounting even the Medical Center. Eclipsed against the moonlight, he instinctively arcs his head back and lets loose a mighty howl.
“Awooooooooo!”
Shirou watches his son soar among the sky and stars, reciprocating Ryoku’s display. The two exchange their howls deep into the night, far above the city, where only the birds could hear them.