Princess Tutu © Itou Ikuko and Hal Film Maker, I'm just borrowing the characters for the enjoyment of myself and others.
I promise the next few will be a bit longer than these last few shorty shorts.
Musings
Charon smiled as he heard the door to their house shutting and the echoes of Fakir running up the steps, quiet and muffled as they were over in the shop. He knew in a matter of moments he'd hear the much slower descent back down the stairs, and then would see the young pair for a moment as they popped into the shop on their way out for the afternoon.
Like clockwork, he heard the telltale sounds, and then Fakir was leaning into the back room where Charon polished the fine cutlery he'd made that morning, a special order for a local bride's wedding feast. Ahiru wiggled free of his grasp and wobbled over to his table, her flight getting smother and more powerful with each passing day. She stared at the shiny metal with wide eyes, entranced with some of the details he'd painstakingly added.
Fakir walked over in her wake, balancing his writing pad on his hip as he tried to reach out for his companion. "We were just on our way out," he said, waving his hand expectantly at the duck who seemed more than content to ignore him. "Come on, moron," he said, his tone lacking any malice, "you can look at them once they're done; you're just in the way right now."
Ahiru flicked her tail at Fakir in response to the name, and then looked up at Charon for confirmation. He reached down to pat her head consolingly. "I promise I'll show you the full set when they're finished." She nodded earnestly and hopped into his hand, letting him pass her off to Fakir. "You two have a nice afternoon. It feels like tomorrow might rain, so enjoy your sunshine today while you can."
Ahiru quacked happily and waved a wing in his direction, and Fakir merely nodded, holding his charge close as he exited.
Charon rotated his wrist a few times to stretch the tired muscles, and then set back to work once he heard the front door of the shop close behind them. It was a beautiful, late summer day, so it would probably be quite late into the evening before they returned from the lake. It was a good thing Fakir wasn't very fair skinned, for as much time as the boy now spent in the sun.
He wondered how that story of his was coming along. Fakir had been fairly tight-lipped about what it was that he was so intently scribbling down, but he had asked Charon once about getting his help binding it when it was finished. Charon admitted he didn't have much experience with it, but together, they'd find a way to get it done.
He had a hunch that the story involved Ahiru, whether it was the past, the present, or a possible future that Fakir hoped would come true, he did not know. He suspected it was not the latter; his son seemed to still be quite wary of ever using his strange gift to try and alter reality. He suspected that was a wise decision, and given the events of the past could not find fault in his judgment.
He'd never admit it, but there was a small part of him that wished very much that Fakir could and would turn the girl back though, if that was what he wanted in his heart. She clearly made him happy, and it had been a long, long time since Fakir had been able to have real happiness. They never spoke of the possibility of turning her human, of altering her fate, but there were stares, glances that Fakir stole when he thought no one was looking. Ahiru would be happily eating, fully focused on the meal before her, and Fakir would stare at her with a mixture of such joy and sorrow in his eyes that Charon's heart would ache for him. He'd idly scratch at that scar on the back of his hand, and then as suddenly as it came, it would be gone, buried deep within his sheltered heart.
Charon could still recall her with perfect clarity despite the short time he'd spent with her, her bright blue eyes and the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the lengthy tail of sun-kissed red hair that seemed nearly as long as she was tall. He set down the piece he was polishing for a moment, resting his chin in his hands as he stared into space. He wondered what their kids would look like, if that were ever possible for them. With her delicate build and Fakir's dark coloring, they would probably be beautiful.
With a wry smile, Charon shook his head to dispel the images. Really, imagining grandchildren? he chided himself. The poor girl had returned to being a duck, and he suspected that if Fakir could not have her, he would likely never take another woman to replace her. It was obvious from the way he looked at her; she was his sun, his moon, his stars, and his sky. He would mourn his love for her till the day he died.
For now though, both seemed intent to focus on what they had now, their time together. They had to know that eventually, fate would not be kind to them, but they were determined to make the most of what they had.
They had shed their doubts, and were living their lives together the best they could; if this was the closest Charon ever got to a daughter-in-law, so be it.
Every day that Fakir returned home in the evenings with a light in his eyes and Ahiru in his arms was a gift, as far as he was concerned. His son still didn't smile much, but it was obvious that he was so much happier when he was with her.
