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Chapter 3
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Bakugō changes.
I know, somewhere deep inside of me, it's because his quirk manifested.
I see the change happen.
I know, after that lazy afternoon in our Tsubaki class, that he wasn't the same Bakugō I had spent the night before playing with.
What makes it scary is that it's a subtle change. Something that many would consider the natural course of a child growing up. Of a toddler growing into a child. Of maybe even a child, growing into a person.
But he's different.
He doesn't feel like the same Bakugō anymore…
And maybe it's because we grew up together—that the change is so prominent to me.
And maybe it's because we grew up together—that I cling to him all the more.
Bakugō picks up Midoriya's bucket, and he makes a big show of lifting it up and pointing at the last two kanji. So much so we're all looking at him as he says, "You can read the characters in 'Izuku' as 'Deku' you know."
He smirks proudly, and everyone is yelling in awe.
"Kacchan, you can read?" Hachirō says, just as surprised as the rest of us.
It's cool! It's cool that Bakugō can read already!
I only know how to read my name, and that's because those are the only characters my parents have taught me so far.
And also to show me the kanji of my soon to be sibling's name.
"What?" Bakugō scoffs, crossing his arms. But he looks smug, like he loves the attention (which he does), "You can't?"
"I can read my name!" I say proudly, waving my hand in the air. Everyone's looking at me now, and I'm excited as I say, "The first character means—"
"Shi-chan, you dummy!" Tsubasa is quick to interrupt me, and I jump a little at his ferocity. Hachirō is giving me an incredulous look over his shoulder, and Midoriya just looks confused at the interruption. "Everyone can read their names!"
Huh?
I'm embarrassed suddenly, cheeks hot and trying to huff in the hopes of dispelling the excess heat, "Then what Kacchan is doing isn't so impressive, dummy!"
"'Deku,' means someone who can't do anything!" Bakugō continues, ignoring our commentary and possibly trying to get our attention back.
It works. Because everyone is looking at Bakugō again, and they believe him easily.
"Stop that…" Midoriya mutters, looking uncomfortable. He's clutching his shirt tightly, and I don't waste any time to say, "Good thing, Izu-chan's name is Izuku, and not Deku then."
Katsuki's giving me a funny look, and then he says, "Shiro, I thought your quirk was having wings, not having a bird brain."
My jaw drops. And I'm so irritated and embarrassed because my feathers have been falling to be replaced by hard and gray ones that the only thing I can think to say is— "Kacchan, you're so annoying!"
A vein throbs on his temple, "What did you say, bird brain?"
He jumps at me, and we're wrestling suddenly. Hachirō and Tsubasa are cheering on the sidelines, and I can vaguely hear Midoriya yelping at us to stop.
Bakugō wins. He huffs and puffs above me with an elbow digging in the space between my wings.
I don't say anything. Ears hot and temper flared at the small bout.
Because I know that I'm the real winner when Mitsuki hears about this.
Kāsan tells me that my wings are molting. I don't really understand what that means, at least not completely.
I know that once a year Kāsan's feathers fall out, and pretty, soft, new ones grow in their place.
But the feathers growing back on my wings are gray. The white ones I've had for as long as I can remember—the ones that matched Kāsan's—are falling and not growing back.
Now they're growing dark gray, a metal gray that matches the color of my hair.
And they're hard. Not soft like Kāsan's.
They're heavier too, but the change doesn't seem to confuse my parents much.
"Do you remember your Uncle Ryoku, Shiro?" Kāsan asks. She's stroking her growing belly leisurely on the lone armchair in the living room—her light gray eyes are watching me, almost amused at what I'm doing.
I've been letting my wings trail behind me on the wooden floor—attentive and curious to the sound of what seems to be a thousand sheets of metal dragging against each other—walking in little circles and marching to feel the new weight of them.
It's entertaining.
"Uncle Ryoku?" I echo, pulling my wings into their usual position—tight against my back. I patter over to her, and climb the arm of the armchair so that I can better hear her.
This close to her, I remember how beautiful Tsubasa Tenshi is. So beautiful in fact, her face can be found on multiple magazines and promotion ads with little search throughout the capital.
She's long and willowy, and colored in white as if she were in angel. I forget that she's famous. Forget that she's popular. Because in moments like these, where she strokes my hair or tries to make me lunch no matter how many times the effort is inedible, she is just my mother.
My pretty pretty Kāsan who loves me with all of her being.
"Your Tōsan has probably called him Ironbone," She says with a smile, briefly stroking my cheek. "Do you remember your Uncle's quirk?"
I had remembered him the moment she had said his hero name. Uncle Ryoku, who was the spitting image of my Tōsan—his twin. Who was stationed overseas and sent me gifts and made video calls often.
"Yes!" I say, because I do remember. His bones are made of iron, and he can manipulate the elongation of his bones at will. It made for really entertaining hero work when caught on camera. "He can make his bones grow really long and can make them really sharp too! They're really really hard so they're impossible to break."
"Yes," she says, and adjusts herself in the chair. It's a special, not-really-open-backed chair, one that supports her spine and lets her wings relax behind her without crushing them.
A lot of the furniture in our home is backless for that reason only.
"Uncle Ryoku has an Iron quirk. What do you think your feathers are made of now?"
I blink, slightly confused at the question. Uncle Ryoku has an Iron quirk. But my feathers are feathers.
Right?
Oh!
"Are my feathers iron now too!" I ask, relaxing my right wing and bringing it slightly forward to see the primary feathers better. These had fallen off first, and the new feathers in place gleamed with a shine that resembled metal.
I pressed the edge of a feather between my thumb and forefinger. The vane was hard and warm from my body heat. I couldn't feel the pressure of my fingers on the feather just as I couldn't feel the ends of my hair against other objects.
But already, I can feel how sharp the edge of the vane can get. If I pull away too quickly, or flare my feathers just enough I could cut myself.
Or someone.
I'll have to keep my wings tucked in tightly. Really tight.
I don't want to hurt anyone.
"Yes, Shiro. Your feathers are growing back gray because they're metal now. Oh—!" The surprise in my mother's voice makes me look up. Her facial expression relaxes to an amused smile, and she extends her right hand towards me—
"Do you want to feel your younger sibling's kicks, Shiro? They're very squirmy. Much more than you ever were."
"Yes!" I say, and gladly let her place my hand on her abdomen.
It doesn't take long for me to feel the tap tap taps against the palm of my hand.
And when I do, an emotion I can't describe swells inside of me.
That's my younger sibling.
That's my little sister or baby brother there.
They can feel I'm here.
And then, all I can think of is showing this to Bakugō and Midoriya.
And hoping that they would feel the same thing I feel.
Thanks to:
amgs (shiro is soooo cute, i love writing her! i originally planned for these scenes to be at the top of every chapter so i can just write action from the get go, but that story didn't do so well, haha... *shattered heart*), Aera Fairy Light (shiro needs all the love she can get lmao! hugs and kisses and cuddles are welcome! shiro dearly loves her family, so it might be difficult to have her agree to an adoption :(( thank you so much for reading!)
well, it's been a while, haha.
i... just want to move on to the action, but i guess i have to build a little backstory before then *sob*
please let me know what you all think! i'll try to wrap up childhood in the next to chapters!
hopefully
—prince