Sakuya stared up at the hospital building before him, it's towering height and glass paneling somehow imposing. He knew for a fact that his own place of residence was far more grandiose, giving off an air of wealth and status. But this place – it had an air of foreboding, as if behind the walls rested a thousand ails and horrors. However, Sakuya refused to shy away from his mission. Ruffling his wings and raising his tail feathers proudly, he declared: "I am not afraid."
"Cooooooo!" Okosan's voice cheered on in merry encouragement and agreement, saying that he shouldn't be afraid of a place like this. Sakuya wasn't sure if the inferior pigeon had seen through his prideful façade. Nonetheless, he tried to make up some excuse, keeping his wits about him.
"I just said I'm not afraid. Don't give me empty words of encouragement, and don't come with me. I need do this alone."
"… Coo coo?" He had assumed that Sakuya would want company for such an important meeting. But at his prompting, Sakuya shook his head.
"I don't want others with me. This entire incident is partially my fault, so I should handle it myself. Imagine if I had befriended Ryouta sooner, rather than seeing him as some commoner. Perhaps I could have gotten him a better job or helped him sooner. Just so he wouldn't have to work himself so hard and get stomachaches so frequently, and—"
"Coo." Okosan's unusually strict tone disrupted his train of thought, overthinking grinding to a halt.
"You're right. No point in dwelling on it now." Sakuya took a deep breath. Resisting the urge to drag his feet, he took his first tentative steps towards the glass doors. Without turning back, he said, "Okosan, I'll be out soon. Then I'll buy you some pudding, as a thank-you."
The giddy cries of Okosan followed him inside, audible until the automatic doors slid shut behind him. Still silence took over the place – however, he couldn't quite call it that. Phones were ringing, birds were murmuring, and footsteps guided each patient and doctor to their destination, but the sinking feeling of dread hung over everything. People were either hearing about miraculous recoveries or grim circumstances. Sakuya himself remembered sitting in those very same chairs, waiting for any bit of news about his father. Any improvement was worth a celebration, while any hiccups were treated as a disaster. And now, his own heart ached for the day when he could bring Ryouta into this place, to treat him and begin to see improvements. That he could go back into society, where there are people, where he's not alone down—
He shoved the troubling thoughts aside and purposefully strode towards the elevator. He knew the room number like the feathers on his wing, having stared at it the entire way over. The ride up to the fifth floor was overlaid by elevator music, it's cheery tones doing nothing to raise the somber mood. His tail feathers drooped, the nerves set in, and he let himself go for only a minute as he walked to where he wanted – needed – to go.
The door was already open, and an ailing pigeon was resting on the bed. In her wings was a picture, which she was staring down at. Words were being murmured that he could not hear, and Sakuya decided to wait patiently in the doorway, beginning to settle down.
"…You can come in, you know." Her frail voice echoed in the silence. Sakuya stiffened, now noticed. He slunk into the room with a shameful gait, looking about.
The place was as empty as he suspected it would be. There were no pictures or televisions on the walls. No excess furniture, no personal touches. He vaguely recalled that when his father was here, he insisted on many personal effects being brought to his room while in recovery. His room was top-quality, and doctors were treating him with utmost respect.
It was abundantly clear that Ryouta's mother lacked any of those amenities. A single chair was set up by the bed. A small table next to it held a few books and a photo album. Placing himself into the chair, Sakuya watched the mother silently as she continued to stroke at the photograph. When she made no move to speak, Sakuya decided to start.
"…My name is Sakuya Le Bel Shirogane. I attended St. Pigeonation's Institute with your son, and was a friend of his. It is with my deepest apologies that he cannot be at my side right now…" His voice trailed on, confidence wavering as she didn't look towards him. Sakuya was worried that he had started out on the wrong claw, bringing up Ryouta so soon. But before long, she raised her head. The photograph in her grasp was extended to Sakuya, encouraging him to take it.
The image was of a proud Ryouta, chest puffed out. It filled up nearly half the picture, blocking the letter of acceptance he was holding. The institute's crest was clear.
"…I had no idea, you know. How much Ryouta was doing to keep me afloat." She shook her head listlessly as she spoke. "That boy, he would say that his work was busy and school kept him up late. He refused to visit sometimes, saying that it was for paying the bills or a new game he wanted. But now I've heard the news and about him. He had all those part-time jobs, and all for… this." She waved a wing at the small hospital space. "All that money for this place."
"Do you know how much it is?" Sakuya cut in. He knew that he didn't care how many zeroes the bill had – any number could vanish with his fortune. What he cared about was knowing just how much Ryouta was working for. If that number explained his constant search for more and more jobs. If it explained the homemade meals and worn-down uniform. If it explained his stubborn work ethic and bare minimum when he studied. If it explained—
A crinkle of paper, and she had given him what he needed. Sakuya scanned the hospital bills as she continued to speak. A sense of shock grew as he read the list of unpaid treatments and medications, all from the past month.
"He was doing all this so I could stay alive. The doctors said he was picking the cheapest treatments, but it was the ones that would keep me alive. He kept saying it was until he was out of school. Until he could get a better job. It's… it's not what I wanted for him." She sank further and further into the pillows. Sakuya glanced up from the numbers, watching her with a steady gaze. He found himself unable to form a proper, kind response – only able to cut to the chase.
"I will pay for them."
"Absolutely not." Her reply was instant, vehement. Sakuya was briefly taken back by the patient's sudden aggressiveness, realizing in a heartbeat where Ryouta had gotten that personality trait from. "I do not need it. Ryouta will manage it, you'll see. They just said they couldn't get a hold of him this month. I told them it's due to the attacks, that he might be in refuge… that we just don't know where he is… just busy, working to make money in these trying times…"
As she spoke, her own façade crumbled. He saw the sorrow that filled her eyes, and the way her feathers shook. The truth was in her heart, but refused to acknowledge it as fact. Her voice reached a dangerous pitch as she kept talking. "He's just missing. That's all. He's missing. He's alive. He's not dead, he's not dead, is he? Is he?"
Sakuya reached out quietly, resting the tip of his wing on hers. Stroking it over and over, he waited until she settled down. She gulped down shallow breaths, coherence slowly returning.
"He's not dead."
"He's not dead," Sakuya confirmed. "Ryouta is not dead. What he is doing is trying to restore balance between the humans and the birds." This half-lie, Sakuya assumed, would ease her aching heart. And it's a lie that is most likely more believable than the truth itself.
"It is something he decided to take upon himself. As… her childhood friend, you know the one, he thinks it his duty. But in return, he cannot contact anybody. He wanted to find peace for everyone, and this is what he chose to do to get it. But he will be back, someday. Hopefully someday soon."
A heartwarming look shined in Ryouta's mother's eyes as she listened to him speak. He could tell that she felt nothing but pride for her son in those moments.
"It's because of her, too, you know. Those two being friends from a young age probably helped a lot for his wellbeing and her own. I think he's just the person for the job. If you hear anything else, ever, will you let me know? Please."
"I will. And I will do all I can to assist him, if I am ever in a position to do so. However, since that opportunity may not come for a while…" Sakuya held up the bills once more, reminding her of their existence. "Can you allow me to do this favor for you and your son?"
She stared at him, and Sakuya briefly hoped she would not put up a fight. He did not want to argue and bicker – he was going to get his way, like he always did.
After an eternity, she dropped her guard, giving him a solemn nod. "That's fine, then. But, thank you, so very much. I hope that we can repay you soon, in the future. We must."
"I need no repayment. I only ask that you have a swift recovery. I will insist on nothing but the best for you. Should you ever need anything else, just contact me via the number I called you from this morning."
"…Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you…" She dissolved into a bubbling mess, and Sakuya extended his wings to draw her into an embrace. Holding her quietly, he let her release all the pent-up emotions she had been holding back from the outside world. They remained that way for some time, and Sakuya felt his heart drop with each choked sob.
I just hope that I can return your son to you.