"Hey Wren," Sting called, finally making his way to his little brother. When Wren turned over his shoulder to look at him, he was not surprised to see that the trouble remained in his eye. I've got to get his mind off them… "You hungry?" he asked, cracking a smile and throwing his thumb back over his shoulder. "What do you say we go check out the river?"
Wren turned, clearly trying to fight the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he shoved himself away from the tree. He loved water. "Yeah!" he cried, the darkness immediately leaving his eye as he ran toward the river, all thoughts of melancholy forgotten. Sting ran after him, allowing himself to chuckle at his brother's energetic antics as he nimbly leapt over fallen trees.
They arrived at the river moments later, the stream winding through the trees and trickling peacefully in the calm afternoon. A bend in the river made an eddy perfect for fishing, and for once Wren didn't run headlong into the water, splashing enough for three people. He stopped his forward momentum on the bank of the river, his sharp eyes tracking the water as though he were following something. "What do you see, Wren?" Sting asked, coming up beside him. Despite their run, neither of them were out of breath.
"Fish," Wren breathed.
"You want to catch one?"
Wren nodded, practically drooling. Sting simply smiled at his brother and turned to his pack, tasking Wren with finding them a juicy worm for bait. Mrs. Abana had given him a parting gift as well, only his was more practical – it was a breakdown fishing pole, complete with plenty of extra line. He could break it down into pieces barely longer than his forearm that could easily be reconnected, making traveling with it a breeze. The line was held on a separate spool, but could be left on the pole when disconnected if he was careful. After tying a quick knot to the end of the pole, Sting made sure Wren was watching. "Dad ever teach you how to fish?" Wren chewed his lower lip and shook his head, his eyes on the small, wriggling worm he had handed to his brother. Sting smiled softly, his heart swelling with pride that for once he knew something his brother didn't. "Then watch closely," he instructed, and impaled the worm on the hook. Wren's eyes widened, but he showed no other outward reaction to the worm's demise as Sting cast the line into the calmer waters of the eddy, where the fish were sure to congregate.
"Why'd you do that to the worm?" Wren asked moments later, his eyes now on the small point in the water where the line disappeared beneath the surface.
Sting looked at his brother out of the corner of his eye, tugging gently on the line. "The fish need to have bait – something to go after in order to bite the hook. They won't just willingly bite it."
"Oh." He appeared to think a moment. "Did it hurt the worm?"
Sting shrugged, remembering asking his father the same question. "I don't know. But if we didn't do it, we wouldn't eat. It's no different than a bird eating a worm or a big cat taking down a deer, Wren. Circle of life – things have to die so other things can live."
Wren seemed to chew that over a moment. Sting knew it wasn't the first time that particular topic had come up. "Do you always use a worm?"
Surprised and yet not surprised by his little brother's undying curiosity, Sting shook his head, tugging on the line once more – it felt heavier. "No. Sometimes insects work better. It depends on the fish you are trying to catch and where you are."
"How do you know what they want?"
Sting shrugged again, repositioning his hands on the pole as he sensed something bite the line. "Practice."
Wren saw the line twitch just as Sting felt it, and they both jumped, their heads snapping to the water. Wren's gasp was audible with excitement, while Sting kept his cool – well aware that the fish was not won until it was on shore, and sometimes not even then. As he began winding the line in, Sting instructed his brother in what to do and when. He told him what to do to avoid the line cutting into his hand and how to keep from pulling the fish in too fast and losing the line, but not to do it too slow and risk losing the fish. Wren soaked up his words in attentive silence, his eyes not leaving Sting's hands, the fishing pole, or the line in the water that jerked with the caught fish's thrashing movements. It wasn't until the fish jumped from the water, flashing a brilliant green before flopping back beneath the surface that he squealed in excitement.
"You caught one! You caught one!"
Allowing himself to smile, Sting continued working to bring the fish in. The river was large, with a rather slow moving current – it made the perfect breeding and feeding ground so the fish were larger here. He took his time, careful not to lose such a large treasure, and did not say a thing until he had pulled the fish that was nearly as large as Wren from the water and clubbed it to finish it off.
"Why'd you hit it?" Wren asked, his brow furrowed as he looked at the now caved in skull of the fish.
Sting grabbed his brother's shoulder and squeezed gently. "A lesson Mom explained to me a long time ago is that you must make sure others do not suffer, Wren, that includes when they are to be used for your meals. I hit the fish to put it out of its misery. Otherwise, it might still be lying there, gasping for breath, and dying slowly. I'd rather it be over quickly and painlessly." Wren looked at the ground and toed the dirt with his sandal. His lessons from martial arts and the sword had similar lessons embedded in them. "It's not always necessary, but with this big of a guy, I didn't want to risk losing it," he admitted.
"Okay," was all Wren could think to say.
Watching the wheels in his brother's mind turn, Sting pulled the hook from the fish's mouth and wound up the fishing line in order to save it. "You want to see something gross?" he asked next, breaking down the fishing pole.
Curious eyes flashed in the afternoon light and Sting once more smiled at his brother. It was moments like this that he knew his brother had been missing out on. "What?"
"You want to see its insides?" he sneered, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.
Some kids Wren's age might have been appalled, or scared, or disgusted, but not Wren. Wren was immediately curious and excited. "Yes!" he cheered, immediately returning to his brother's side and kneeling down beside the massive animal.
Pulling his best hunting knife from his pack, Sting talked him through this next important step of cleaning and gutting the fish. They would be providing for themselves from here on out, and he had to make sure Wren knew as much as possible. Just as in fishing, Wren watched his movements with the knife with careful scrutiny, his eyes not missing a thing as he watched Sting split the fish from fin to jaw. His eyes widened when the innards were exposed and Sting showed him how to pull them out and briefly discussed what could be eaten if they wanted (or needed) to. He made sure to discuss the importance of cleaning the kill quickly to prevent spoilage and cleaning it away from where they were camping/staying in case of wild animals. Then he showed him something that made Wren bounce in excitement, because he let him do it – how to scrape the scales off with the knife. Mrs. Abana would have a heart attack if she saw him doing this, Sting thought as Wren carefully held down the tail fin in one hand and used the other to scrape the knife in the opposite direction that the scales laid. Green and rainbow colored scales rippled and flew off, coating Wren's hands like colorful, scaly snow. The smile on Wren's face was genuine, as was Sting's. This was how brothers were supposed to be.
They continued on their way after they finished eating, packing and storing what fish they hadn't been able to eat to save for later. It was a promising beginning, Sting's heart lightened by the events of the day and the already increased closeness and protectiveness he felt for his little brother. Despite the events that drove them from their hometown and into the wilderness together, he found himself smiling, laughing at Wren's childish enthusiasm as he pointed at each bird and squirrel he spotted from the trail they traveled, tugging on Sting's hair from his perch atop his shoulders. While Wren was strong for his age, walking most of the day was tough for anyone, let alone a 3-year-old. So when Sting noticed his brother's trailing pace, he scooped him up and put him on his shoulders, Wren giggling happily as he held on by gripping Sting's hair in his small hands and occasionally kicking his older brother in the chest with his heels in his innocent excitement.
It was when the sun started to sink toward the western horizon and they were still far from town that Sting began to realize they'd have to make camp. From the tense way Wren sat on his shoulders, he knew he had arrived at the same conclusion. "Hey, how do you feel about camping out tonight?" he asked, trying to keep the question light as he bounced the toddler gently so that he had to hold on or risk falling off.
"Camping?!" Wren cried, a mixture of fear and excitement in his voice. "I-in the dark?" he asked, his voice growing quiet as his grip on Sting's hair increased to the point of becoming painful.
Perhaps one of the few ways Wren was like other children his age was in his fear of the dark. He had been unable to fall asleep in a completely dark room back at home, and if it was completely dark, he couldn't be alone. He never screamed and panicked like they heard of other kids doing, but his eyes would get wide and he would breathe rapidly, his hands cold and shaking as he searched for a source of comfort – usually their mother. He would have to fill that void now…
"Yes, in the dark," Sting admitted before adding, "but we'll have a fire, Wren, and I'll be with you, just like I promised."
Wren's tight grip on Sting's hair relaxed in just the slightest as he nodded his head. He ground his teeth together in determination, even though Sting could see none of it. He had to start acting like a big boy now! "And I have my sword!" he claimed, pulling the wooden practice sword from his belt and waving it proudly above his head.
"Of course! Nothing can harm us so long as you have that!" Sting proclaimed, inwardly cringing at making such a false proclamation. Satisfied, Wren replaced the sword in his belt, resting his hands on Sting's head for balance once more. "Now help me keep an eye out for a place to camp, okay, Wren?"
"Right!"
They found a good spot to camp not 30 minutes later, and while Sting arranged their shelter, Wren arranged the fish around the fire to warm it. The river was still relatively close by, so they made a quick trip to its refreshing waters to refill their water and to wash their hands and faces. Sting took his brother's mind off the encroaching darkness by splashing him with water, laughing when Wren's eyes flashed in retaliation, scooping water in his small hand to toss at his big brother. The mirth in his eyes made the resulting wet shirt worth it.
It was as they were making their way back to their camp, Wren once more balanced on Sting's shoulders (despite the fact that his shoulders were aching in protest), that Sting pointed to the setting sun. As their source of light crept lower and lower, meeting the horizon, the sky turned into a myriad of colors – red, orange, and purple, before the blue of the sky could be seen darkening. Red predominated the sunset, reflecting back off the clouds as though they were rich, fluffy garnets. Sting had always been fond of sunsets and sunrises – light drew him but he wasn't afraid of it leaving either. The contrasting colors of the departing sun always made him marvel at the beauty of the world around them.
"Hey, Wren, do you know why the sun sets red?" he asked, pointing at the horizon. When Wren remained silent, he took it as his cue to continue. "It's because light is made up of many different colors, and out of all those colors, red is the color that travels the farthest." (1)
"Really?" Wren whispered, his mouth gaping in awe as he stared at the setting sun.
Sting repositioned his grip on his brother; once more allowing the pride he felt at knowing something his brother didn't to settle into his heart. Maybe I can teach him more than I thought, after all. "Really."
Tiny hands gathered messy blonde hair in their fists, tugging gently. "It's beautiful," Wren's small voice whispered from above his head.
Suppressing the urge to look up to witness the pure awe he knew would be reflected back in Wren's eyes, Sting smiled and squeezed his brother's little leg. Part of him wished they could have shared moments like this earlier in their lives, and that it hadn't taken such a horrible tragedy to truly bring them together. "Yeah."
And so they spent their first night under the stars, Wren snuggling close to his big brother due to his fear of the dark, holding his sword tightly in both hands. For once Sting didn't poke fun. He made sure Wren was closer to the fire and took his time showing him the constellations that he knew; telling him the stories of the stars that he remembered his mother telling them until Wren's eyes had finally grown heavy. When he stirred, his fear resurfacing just before sleep overcame him, Sting simply grunted soft words of encouragement, sleeping with one eye open to make sure they remained safe throughout the night.
While he would never admit it to his younger brother, Sting was a lot less sure of their situation than he let on. Sure, they had managed their first day and first night just fine. They were well fed and sheltered and so far had not so much as seen another person on the road. But how long would that last? How long would two young boys stay out of trouble on their own? Shadowed thoughts clouded his mind, making him shiver. He had a feeling it would not last forever.
(1) Quote referenced from Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days, © Square Enix
A/N: I feel like a broken record saying this, but I am soooo sorry it's taken me so long to post this update! Graduating nursing school made for a BUSY time! But THAT'S done! I hope the wait was worth it – I know this chapter is shorter than the others but the next one is well underway already. Like I've said, this story is just getting started so there will definitely be a lot more to come! TheSmilingFallenAngel, I apologize to you in particular because I know you were waiting but the next one should hopefully be up relatively quickly. I want to thank all of you so much for the comments, reviews, and favorites! It really means the world to me and my fellow collaborator!
This is my first ever cross over, featuring Fairy Tail and Bleach. This features Sting Eucliffe and Toshiro Histugaya, who originally (and this will be explained/become clear later on) is Wren if you didn't figure that out from his description. A lot of things that may be confusing will be explained, I promise. There are some "Easter Eggs" hidden in here (and I plan on continuing to do this) for what's to come and hinting toward their futures as we know them... Let me know if you spotted them! ;)
This idea was entirely created by ThunderLordess and Beastly-x-Kettan (on DeviantArt) - I was just recruited for the writing. I hope you enjoy! There will definitely be more to come!
The usual disclaimer, I do not own Bleach or Fairy Tail or any of their characters. They belong to Tite Kubo and Hiro Mashima respectively.
