A.N. Done for the fourth Super Short contest at Poirot cafe forums. The theme this time around was "Fear". A bit cheesier than my usual stuff, but I think it's okay? Let me know what y'all think.
When Kaito flies – the first time, strapped to his father's chest over a sandy beach, ocean stretching off to infinity – he is afraid, a little.
It's not that he doesn't trust his dad. No. He trusts him more than is probably sensible. More than the average human could probably live up to. But Kuroba Toichi has never been average, and if it takes a miracle to live up to his son's expectations, then a miracle he will have.
It's just... a long way down, is all. And the rocks look sharp from this angle, for all that he knows in his head that they're worn smooth by sea and sand, and the ocean is huge and deep and endless. It's a long way down and he's kind of helpless, in the harness with his legs dangling.
"Are you sure?" he asks, looking up to his dad. He has to crane his neck at a weird angle to see his father's face upside-down. "We can do this?"
"I'm sure, Kaito," says Toichi, in his long-suffering poker-face voice where Kaito can almost tell he's trying not to laugh. Kaito scowls up at him, then takes a deep breath. He's not scared. He's not. His dad says it's okay. "We can do this."
"...Okay." He nods firmly, putting on his bravest face. "If you're sure."
Toichi takes a running start, straight for the cliff, and leaps. There's a split second before the glider catches the air, a split second where it feels like falling, and Kaito tenses and starts to scream—
And then the wind fills out the glider, and they're flying.
The scream turns into laughter, and Kaito isn't afraid anymore.
When Kaito flies – the first time on his own, now that he's got enough weight to control a glider – he is afraid, again.
Not as much as last time. They're not as high up. But he's in control, this time, for the first time, without his father's weight helping to steer. He's on his own; his own choices, his own skills. His trust in his father – of which there is still plenty – has nothing to do with this.
And it's still a long way down.
"...Are you sure?" Kaito says. His voice is years smaller than he is. He looks back to his father, standing behind him with his own glider ready to go. "I'm ready? I can do this?"
"I'm sure, Kaito," says Toichi. His voice isn't laughing, not this time. "You can do this." He pauses, examining Kaito carefully. "You're sure you want to?"
"Yes," Kaito answers. Because his father says he can. And he can. He's sure.
He takes a running start. It's different, on his own – the glider is fighting him at the edges, like a kite in the wind, but he can't slow down or takeoff won't work. He grits his teeth and leaps.
There's a split second of fall.
And he's flying, on his own. He's laughing, and his father is laughing behind him, and the sand and sea stretch for miles beneath.
And he could never be afraid, not of this.
When Kaito flies – not the first time, but the first time after... The first time without his father, now that there's a stone lodged in his chest where his heart used to be and loud, burning nightmares that will never leave him – he is so, so, so afraid.
It's not like it was the first time, or any other. It's not as much and not the same. The glider is the same, the wind is the same, the beach and the sand and the ocean are the same – but instead of his father, it's an empty space. Wind and air. No laughter, no half-hidden smiles, no considering looks.
Though if he listens carefully he thinks maybe he can hear a scream.
It's a long way down, and he thinks about that. He really does. And that should scare him, but it doesn't.
What scares him is that the world will go on, and it might still need him in it, whether his father is here or not.
"Are you sure?" he asks the wind. He doesn't know what he's asking.
I'm sure, says his father, in his memory or in the wind. You can do this.
He runs, he leaps. There's that heart-stopping moment of fall, and he's not afraid this time, not of that.
And he's flying, alone. And even alone... it's good. It's still beautiful, and free, and his heart feels less like a stone and more like a heart again.
...Maybe he can keep going after all.
When Kaito flies, now, he is not afraid at all.
He launches himself off of buildings, makes tight corners amidst hard winds and sheer currents that would send anyone else tumbling out of control. He rises on thermals and dives like a falcon. He flies through tight cities and over still lakes, over harbors and rooftops, over screaming crowds and cursing police officers. He leaps straight out of moving planes, catches priceless things and priceless lives in mid-air. He knows what he can do – more than his father ever had a chance to teach him.
It's still a long way down.
But he doesn't need to ask, anymore, are you sure. He still does, sometimes in his head, just for the sake of it. Because he can still hear the answer in his father's voice.
I'm sure.
You can do this.
And he runs, and leaps, and falls, and laughs, and flies.