When Taiju wakes to the sound of cracking and the darkness of a cave he finds himself suitably puzzled.
The last thing he remembers before a green light appeared is his bullheaded self trying to protect Yuzuriha back in their school's courtyard beside the camphor tree, thoughts of his love for her and his worry for Senkū drifting in and out of consciousness as an eternal black swallowed him whole. The feeling of floating and an aching numbness was an unnerving experience once he got a grasp on his situation. It felt weird, but in a detached sort of way. Sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell were oddly absent and his body was off-puttingly numb. It almost made him panic when an unseen force sucked his consciousness into murky depths and he had to fight through it just to stay awake, and in between flashes of conscious thoughts and his determination to find both Yuzuriha and Senkū he often droned in a slumber-like state.
It was mentally taxing even fighting to stay awake for a few hours every once in a while since the first time.
He wonders how much time has passed since that green light descended upon them. Has it been days? Weeks? Months, even? He isn't sure. He's not the best at keeping track of time on his own without the aid of his phone—or Senkū, now that he thinks about it—and
Chirping accompanies the cracking of what sounds like pottery breaking, reveling in the sheer sudden introduction of tactile sensations running through his shivering body as his mouth takes a deep, aching breath once the thing holding it closed falls apart with a clatter.
His throat hitches and he chokes on his first breath of oxygen, sensation creeping back to his face as his jaw clenches, a choked groan filling the cave as his lungs painfully readjust to breathing again. But it burns, like someone blew hot ashes down his windpipe to consume healthy tissue.
What a strange and extremely uncomfortable feeling.
His one eye glances underneath to find stone fragments littering the ground.
Strange. Pieces of rock? Falling off of me? Wait, why am I lying down? I was standing up in front of Yuzuriha in the courtyard before it all went black!
Gritting his teeth, Taiju clenches his arms as he struggles to sit up, fighting against the stone attached to his body, sweat pouring down his face from the effort alone. It feels as if concrete was poured over him. He grits his teeth and yanks his arms back with a yell, heaving his spine with a flare of his wings to break off more stone fragments as he sits up, feeling like he's been reborn anew.
"Yes! I'm free! But, uh—where am I?"
Taiju takes in the dim cavern, nose curling at the rank odor. Beyond the mouth of the cave is a bright scene that hurts his eyes. Looking around the cot of grass he realizes there are signs of someone else's presence frequenting the cavern floor with a row of uneven clay pots lining up at the walls filled with a strange olive-yellow liquid, stone spears (hold the phone, what?) are neatly stacked against the wall nearest the entrance, and what looks to be a few molted feathers hiding among the debris.
He gulps, wings lightly fluffing up from nervousness.
This looks entirely out of place. It's something right out of a prehistoric caveman movie with the straw bedding and stone tools strewn about. The thought itself is worrying enough he wonders if he's been kidnapped by criminals for ransom.
And he's naked.
He yelps, hiding his crotch with a quick snap of his wings. Brown eyes dart from wall to wall hoping no one was around to see him in all his glory. It would be horribly embarrassing and inappropriate if he flashes someone by accident. That one time where he blew himself up in Senkū's apartment when they were 8 and 10 was possibly the first and last time he ever did such a thing and he knows Senkū never really forgave him for that, as flustered as the smaller boy was.
He waits for a while, calling out to see if a person is nearby. When he receives nothing but silence he shrugs and stands, wings covering him like a cloak as he makes his way to the entrance with a wince. It's blindingly bright as he emerges, fresh air tickling exposed skin.
Green explodes in his vision to form an abundant forest with trees stretching into the sky, trees that are wider and taller than the ones that grow around the city, confusion furrowing his brows as he fumbles to take in what could be a forest in the middle of nowhere and not a soul to greet him.
The silence makes his skin crawl but he pushes it away in favor of figuring out where the heck he is.
"What is this," Taiju whispers, lost as he steps out into the warmth of the sun's rays. Squirrels and birds gather on trees and the occasional deer prances away in the distance, no sign of roads, buildings, or people; it's just a quiet landscape with the chittering of critters and wind rustling the leaves. "Where am I? This doesn't look like the school."
He doesn't recognize anything looking remotely similar to the courtyard or the camphor tree he and Yuzuriha stood next to. Behind him is the cavern with a dead end; before him is a sprawling forest, full of green and the clear expanse of sky above. Massive cliffs rise from a ravine to his right, and among nature stand the most bizarre things he never thought his eyes would ever lie on as he continues walking forward.
Statues; so many statues of people holding their arms up to defend themselves from an unseen force, faces frozen in fear and confusion. People of all ages. Some are stuck in the cliffs, absorbed into the dirt and rock while others have creeping moss and vines growing on the surface of their bodies. One statue of a child is missing both arms, half his face gone while one wing lies on the ground behind him. What he assumes to be the child's mother is missing her head and an arm, deep cracks running up the length of her left leg.
It's a sight eerily similar to a scene from that one post-apocalyptic horror movie he and Senkū watched out of boredom once, where the end of humanity is a central theme.
Though, the embarrassing detail he notices is that each of the petrified statues are stark naked and only a few have some sort of vegetation sparing a scant few their dignity. He redirects his eyes to the ground with a flushed face, frowning when he finds a fragment of a petrified eye and cheekbone in the dirt.
"This is unreal. Is this a dream?" Taiju looks to the sky, carefully waddling around the field of petrified humans, careful to not nudge or damage them further than they have been over the course of who-knows-how-long. He spots many missing arms or legs, some even losing either pieces of their wings or the entirety of the plumed appendages. His own feathers fluff and shiver at the uncomfortable thought of losing his own wings like that.
"So this isn't a dream," he whispers, leaning against a cedar tree. Anguish fills his heart at the pain they might be going through even if the people trapped in their stone prisons are in a numb state of mind. If they ever wake up on their own they'll have to live with a disability or worse, grievous injuries that can kill them. Thinking of some of the statues that have broken apart and been worn down by the rough hands of time, he feels that some people may never come back at all because of such tragic circumstances. It feels like a permanent death rather than miraculously resurrecting like he has.
It almost makes him nauseous just thinking about it.
Still, he walks forward, intent on trying to ignore his growing unease of the stretching silence and the unseeing gaze of hundreds of statues and instead mutters a prayer for the mutilated ones, wings shivering as he imagines the sheer pain of losing the very things that make them human.
Now that he's seen what's happened to the world while he was trapped, he wonders how long it's been since the petrifying event hit. So many years flashed by in a blink while he struggled to stay awake.
The answer isn't one he can accurately formulate, but the absence of human infrastructure is startling to him. No apartment buildings, no busy roads full of cars and people commuting to work, the ever-present feeling of safety that comes with living in a populated community, and people he cherishes to greet him every day are gone. Perhaps a few hundred years has passed? Perhaps a thousand? There's no possible answer for this many people to be dotting the landscape like this without serious change but the number can't form. He simply doesn't know. Senkū would find an answer effortlessly, and Taiju trusts him to ask for one without a second thought.
"I need to find Senkū and Yuzuriha. Who knows where their statues are."
Walking past the cliff sides and coming across a river, he eagerly drinks his fill of water before stumbling across a petrified young woman who's worn down to chunks, several pieces missing from her body. Time shaved her down so much that her face is the most recognizable human trait he can see besides her torso and feet and the sight produces a bubble of sadness in his heart. She looks younger than he does, possibly a girl in middle school, and her life is already snuffed out. He can't do anything for her even if instinctively he dearly wants to help. Fate has been cruel to have dealt a hand to her.
He gives her a prayer and forces down the nausea threatening to creep up his throat. It's all he can do for her.
Deciding to continue with his search, he considers flying overhead to find the camphor tree Yuzuriha stood next to in the hopes that her statue is safe and unharmed. Senkū, however, was in the school building when people turned to stone. His statue could've been buried or destroyed beyond repair and the thought makes his heart sink, stomach churning violently at the thought. He thinks hard as to where the aspiring scientist would end up if his statue turned up somewhere safe like him. With so much having changed in the course of what might be eons it'll be difficult to find what he's looking for. If he flies, he'll have the vantage point but will lose sight of individual statues beneath the canopy. He doesn't want to risk missing his best friend and his crush over getting a bird's eye view.
Taiju compromises with both options: he'll fly, but it'll be below the canopy. The tradeoff for it is a decrease in speed but it's the best choice to avoid the fragile statues while he's aloft.
But not before fashioning himself something to hide his modesty out of vines and leaves for a decent cover. It doesn't matter if he's the only one walking around naked, the concept is embarrassingly inappropriate. Plus, if he manages to find Senkū or Yuzuriha buck naked he's sure one would be furiously disturbed while the other would turn away mortified.
He takes a moment to relax before slapping both hands to his cheeks, psyching himself up to muster more energy into locating his friends.
"All right! Time to find Senkū and Yuzuriha! Wait for me, I'll find you guys soon!"
Taiju smiles wide and unfurls his wings to thrust himself upward with a powerful flap and a twirl. He steadies his wings to take on a low glide, angling his wings to be perpendicular with the ground. Senkū once told him that his wings—while wider, shorter, and broader in muscle—aren't the most suited for speeding forward like the shorter teen's ridiculously long wings, he is much more suited to gaining altitude and staying aloft for longer periods of time. The additional muscle mass, according to Senkū, allows Taiju to carry a substantial amount of weight in addition to his own. In simpler terms (for Taiju's benefit), he can carry more than five times his own weight while flying.
Taiju smiles at the Senkū-like voice droning on about the facts. Then his smile morphs into a frown, worry biting at his heart.
He sinks below the trees, relishing in the feel of wind wrapping around him and brushing his plumage. His eyes stay peeled for any statue he can recognize, hoping it won't take long to find his friends.
Maybe he should try air current gliding like Senkū does. It conserves energy and he can glide longer than consciously fly above the river.
He straightens his wings and forces himself to feel out the air, grinning when he feels wind pushing at him from beneath. With a beat he attempts to imagine what he should be doing based on that advice, only to yelp when he banks sharply upwards and loops down to crash into shrubs, thankfully absent of statues. He groans as he picks his way out of a particularly prickly bush.
"Okay, this might be harder than I thought," he groans as he plucks a twig out of his hair.
This is harder than he expected it to be. In just a second he was fine and then crashing the next. Was it the slight dip of one wing? Did he not level both of them to be aligned with the ground? Was the current too much for him to handle?
No, his wings were somewhat aligned with the ground. The wind current was gentle yet had enough push to keep him aloft. Inexperience and weight are possibly the only factors that can attribute to his failure.
Then he remembers something Senkū said about riding wind currents with the best advantage anyone could have.
Larger wingspan suited for flying fast, extremely high, and acting like sails to catch the wind.
Less than average body weight and muscle mass. Less drag.
Aerodynamically advantageous.
Taiju's eyes go wide.
"Senkū, how is it you're so fast?"
It's a regular day at school as Taiju visits the science club again to give Senkū some company from a familiar face, wanting to ask him a question regarding an aerial maneuver he'd seen on television the night before, seeking Senkū's advice on the exact practice instead of consulting the vastness of the internet.
The one who asks the question is a new member of the club shaking nervously as Senkū bears his scowl on her, only to soften at the sight of her trembling.
No one sees this except for Taiju.
"I mean," Daisuke pauses, looking sheepish as a dark aura settles over Senkū's head.
Every club member currently in the room pauses in their experiments to send him inquisitive stares, curiosity getting the best of their attention rather than their class projects. One by one, they set their tools and beakers down to gather around their Club President, oblivious to the abrasive scowl the teen gives them for entering his personal bubble with little regard to his feelings.
Taiju restrains himself from beating them back with a stick for making his best friend uncomfortable.
"If you want to know," Senkū grits, "the less a person weighs the faster they can fly. If a flier is keeping their arms to their body and locking their legs together, combined with their wings they can become more aerodynamic than they would, say, flailing around or flying spread-eagled."
Some of the smaller students smile, happy to know they could fly faster based on the piece of information.
Taiju pities them for the blunt words Senkū will dish out once he gets their hopes up.
"But, you have to take in account the shape of your wings and whether or not they're the right type for speed-flying. Wingspan, muscle density, bone density, the way your feathers are positioned—if your body is built for speed-flying, you would be slimmer in build than the average person and have a wingspan that's 20% longer than your actual height. Your wings would also have to lack a certain amount of muscle mass and bone density in order for you to take off like a pinball."
"So," Daisuke starts, hopeful as he fidgets. "Being skinnier, having longer wings, and having less muscle makes you faster? Can someone like that fly like a bullet?"
Senkū narrows his eyes.
Taiju gulps.
"No, you imbecile. A bullet, depending on the type of gun it's fired from can travel faster than the speed of sound, which is 343 m/s, or 1,234.8 km/h in the air alone. An AK-47, for example, fires bullets that can travel upwards to about 670 m/s or 2,412 km/h, which is almost double the speed of sound. I'd say no. The average speed a human can fly is approximately 432 km/h or 268.43 mph. You'd also have difficulty with the friction that comes from the resistance of the air around you. If you aren't careful, you risk aerodynamic flailing, which can kill you. Now leave me be."
"R-Right," Daisuke stutters, intimidated and perhaps a tad bit disillusioned from the blunt words.
Senkū huffs as he reigns in the urge to hiss at them in irritation.
"Then, can you tell me how to ride wind currents?" Haru, the instigator, pipes up. "It shouldn't be that hard, right?"
Senkū stares at him incredulously and barks out a laugh.
"Oh, you don't have the right wing type and build as I do, Haru. Plus the way I ride wind currents is 10 billion percent impossible for you to adapt to—not when you have Elliptical wings. You're used to Air Ball than racing and your collective wingspan is shorter than 1.6 meters. I'd stick to lower level flying for you. If you had wider wings that don't need to keep flapping they'd catch wind pockets easier."
They often considered his friend to be smart but only to a point, when he begins pulling equations and observations from the pit of information that is his brain Taiju finds it extremely difficult to follow even on his best day.
But he was right. When Haru tried to ride air currents during lunch that very same day he merely banked hard and almost crashed into the school building several times just like he did. He remembers comparing the usually smug boy to a flailing chihuahua caught in a snare being carried by a drone operated by four people who jerk the controller around like a yoyo. It was disastrous and unnerving to watch, and then Senkū popped into existence gliding past Haru with a serene expression and a warm smile on his face, wings moving like water with smooth movements before shooting upwards like a missile through the cover of clouds.
Senkū makes gliding and surfing on wind currents comparable to ballroom dancing—elegant, effortless, and awe-inspiringly beautiful to any who watch him fly.
So with that memory in mind, he's determined to learn without hurting himself. He pictures the way Senkū flies, the afternoons together where he sees Senkū in his element up close in the privacy of each other's company. Contrary to popular speculation, Senkū does not stretch his wings out flat, he instead adds an outward curve along the inner wings where air catches, the primaries shifting to account for changes in the wind's direction. He studies how they twitch and shift accordingly when the current lowers or elevates, taking Senkū along as if he was on a dangerous roller coaster. Back then, Taiju trying it out would have had him diving face first into the ocean they often flew over. That always earned him a face full of sand or water and Senkū laughing his feathers off.
So, he tries taking off to catch the pocket of air, failing spectacularly enough that he ends up falling in the river. The second attempt has him falling through the brush. The third almost caused a tree to fall on him.
This is getting nowhere.
Quickly climbing a tree to use as a jump-off point at a reasonably high spot, Taiju rears his wings back and jumps off the branch, settling for a slow glide and feeling out the wind to see if he can catch an updraft to carry him further.
A trick Senkū taught him for his convenience when they spent time experimenting with the Senkū Rocket 2 resurfaces and Taiju feels like hitting himself for not thinking about it before.
"You need to feel the wind, Taiju. If you don't follow it you risk losing your chance to ride the currents. Think of it as pockets of air curling underneath your wings. It's like giving a hug to two people that are squirming a lot, but there's a delicate pressure you have to adjust to every now and then depending on the weather. Does that make sense?"
"I'll do my best to understand!"
"I guess not…"
Grinning, he flaps and shoots upwards to thrust his wings open, diving sharply before his wings catch wind propelling himself forward and upward, reaching heights he never would have achieved without the aid of his memories. From this height, the midpoint between the heavens and the earth, he looks to the horizon and spots a massive tree in the distance.
Smiling, Taiju roars as he dives, leaving the current to quickly reach his destination.
While Senkū made it clear that less body mass equals less drag and more speed, Taiju's weight is the catalyst that grants him speed as he beats his wings harder on his downward slope, the scenery blurring beautifully like an artist's painting as gravity pulls him down.
When he finally does spot Yuzuriha a few dozen meters from the air, petrified and looking vulnerable, Taiju gently touches down at the base of the monster of a camphor growing around her protectively. He gazes at her with such intensity he fears she would disappear like a mirage and he can't help the tears that fall at seeing her perfectly safe from harm in the embrace of the old camphor tree.
"Yuzuriha," he whispers. The word drags out of his lungs with little effort, taken away as he studies her statue and hoping he doesn't come off as a peeping tom. But he can't help but reassure himself that she hasn't been damaged, that all her fingers and feathers are intact. Her dainty hands and wings are folded close in an attempt to shield herself and Taiju feels a wave of guilt sweep through him at his failure to protect her from the strange green glow that consumed the world.
This time, he'll protect her. When she wakes he'll be sure of that. And when the time comes that he finds Senkū he's protecting them both with every fiber of his being. He let them down once, and he'll rectify it after he expresses his oath.
Taiju sniffles, wiping away the snot running from his nose as fat tears well in his eyes. With a flap of his wings he glides up the tree to stand beside her.
"I'm so, so glad I found you. There's no way I'd forget what you look like even after all this time."
He runs the back of his pointer finger gently against her cheek, affection welling in his chest when he thinks back to the day before it all changed. He remembers how her beautiful smile combined with the prettiest gems for eyes had him weak in the knees, stuttering and fumbling his words as she waited for him to continue, her face growing red as his words for her grew more and more ridiculous.
Then he feels his knees shake and he looks down to see them knocking together. His face burns red and he laughs.
"Ah, even now you make me nervous, Yuzuriha," he exclaims with a bubble of laughter. "After seeing so many broken statues I was scared you'd be the same but the camphor protected you when I couldn't! It did a great job!"
He breathes to settle his nervousness and carefully climbs the roots, stopping just an arm's length away from her.
"There's something I wanted to tell you, something I never got the chance to say before that weird light turned us to stone. I feel like I'm able to say them now after spending some time thinking over those words after breaking free. I—I've loved you, for so long," his voice trembles, cracking in places as tears well up. "So long that I kept fighting it, the darkness that made me sleep without giving me a choice. Now that you're here, when you break free, I'll be able to tell you what I wanted to say to you all those years ago, and I'll do everything in my power to free you."
Tears and snot dribble from his chin as he fights back a sob.
"I have no idea what I'm doing. If Senkū were here he'd know exactly what to do. I need to find him and we'll work together to free you from the stone. You'll have to wait for me, but I promise to break you free, even if it takes a few more years to do it."
Her statue says nothing, yet as the leaves part to make way for spots of sunlight to kiss Yuzuriha's cheek Taiju represses the urge to hug the statue. Damaging her would do him no good.
He leans forward and carefully presses his forehead to the statue's, closing his eyes as more tears slither down his skin.
"I can promise you that, Yuzuriha."
He lifts his head to wipe his face when he spots markings on the tree's bark, eyes widening as he trails his eyes lower. His breath hitches and his heart leaps in his throat.
Run along the river downstream. I'll see you there, big oaf.
Taiju stares, joy bursting in his chest as he takes to the air with a loud scream of elation. Only one person would say those words.
Senkū is the only one to call him by that name.
Senkū is alive!
Taiju bellows with joy, tears leaking profusely down his face as he rockets towards the river with the simple instructions in mind.
It's on a crisp October morning that Senkū feels the urge to explore the woods further down the river once the sun peaks the horizon, feeling like he's suffocating in the safety of his campsite as his health improves. He woke up crusty-eyed, stiff-limbed, and feeling bored out of his mind when the only eventful things happening were the birds fighting each other for a spot in a tree..
His leg recovered enough for him to walk on it but the pull of every step doesn't dull the pain. There's no frolicking around like a peppy cheerleader in a field of flowers when he can literally tear the muscle and add more time to his recovery than is necessary.
His wings, though, haven't gotten any better. Compared to his leg, it's possible they're growing stiffer, sore, and he knows it's because he hasn't stretched them in a long time that their condition is worsening. His usually bright plumage is gritty and unclean, and the few places he can reach are a few of his primary feathers and the wings' forearm bones peeking over his shoulders. He's also lost a lot of feathers from the terrible living conditions he's settled with and he grimaced as he brushes a hand over them. Oily, dirty, splits in the plumage like hair with split ends. It makes his skin crawl that his wings have come to such a state. Just bathing in clean river water can't seem to get rid of the grime clinging to them.
The nausea that creeps up at the reminder of it all has him stop and place a hand to his stomach, willing the organ to settle. His eyes glare at the ground before flicking upwards, frowning as wind brushes his hair.
The world, in all its wild beauty and untainted landscape, is far too silent. A deep ache in his chest reflects it when he finds himself wondering if this is what his life will be like for the next few years.
The last few months he's been walking around in a sort of stalemate, mindlessly wandering when there's nothing occupying his brain. There's no goal beyond survival, and there's nothing resembling a society to give him something to do. Already he's done all he can on his own, gathering enough furs and leathers to last him the winter and spring for two people, and after carefully counted days he's slowly acclimated to the wilderness and its dangers more than he's comfortable, being backed into corners the few times more animals did attempt to kill him. More giant wolves, lions, angry wild boars, snakes, and the occasional bird that tried making nests in his hair were a health hazard he had to avoid at some point.
Yes, the birds. To any other sane person that would sound ridiculous, but those pesky feathered gremlins nearly plucked his eyes out once because he tried to get them to leave his hair alone and they were tiny, angry balls of plumage. The most vicious one is the white-backed woodpecker nesting a few trees from his hut, surprisingly enough.
Sliding down the ladder and grunting as his feet meet ground, Senkū hisses at the sudden drop pinching the nerves in his leg and the shock of pain ripples through his wings. He walks it off to take a bite out of a ringo apple he was lucky enough to harvest after stumbling on what used to be an orchard over the hills to the west of his camp the day before. The area may have once been farmland from the relatively flat ground and the larger trees surrounding a considerable number of smaller trees.
Biting into the sweet flesh of the apple he savors the flavor and glances at the baskets full of fruit, both from his own foraging and from the peace offerings the monkeys leave him every few days. He hasn't seen the curious creatures in a while but he shrugs it off, thinking they may be looking for food elsewhere.
Senkū ignores the feeling of loneliness that creeps in like ichor at the lack of interaction and instead thinks aloud, a habit that surfaced around the second month alone.
His fellow classmates would make him into a laughing stock for craving human interaction when the very concept itself used to make him hiss at people for even trying to approach him.
"It's around 79 degrees celsius and the weather will slowly get cloudier towards sunset, if I'm correct. It's 12:17PM, best for fishing. Need to check my traps and see if I got lucky. Better check on Taiju later and see if he's broken free yet." He looks towards the skies, longing burning in his ruby eyes. His gaze drops to the ground as his shoulders dip, a frown crossing his lips. "I still haven't found Yuzuriha yet. I have no indication as to where she is without the advantage of a bird's eye view. I'm 10 billion percent sure she's safe somewhere if she's near that tree still. Maybe I should check downriver?"
It's worth a try. She is someone he cares for by a margin over strangers.
So, the rest of the day he explores the region around him, holding his dagger close and keeping his sense on high alert. Since he can't fly, he has to travel on foot and his stamina loves to mock him for his limited physical prowess.
On the way he finds some arikko, an herb that can soothe stomach pains. His eyes just about glitter with joy when he discovers the large patch of it growing close to the river near a fork where a large tree cuts the stream into two. It's perfect to combat ailments that would sooner hinder him than help him. He takes a bit of time to pick some and stow them one of his pouches for later. Best before he loses this opportunity while it presents itself.
No animals linger nearby. The sound of rushing water and the distant bleating of deer fill the usual silence, and he sighs as he trudged his way up the river, feet absent of their leather wraps to take advantage of the clear dirt near the water. It's a bit chilly, but he can endure it.
He walks for an hour by the time he decides to put his footwear back on, one hand grasping his dagger.
Approaching a slope, he decides to veer off the river in favor of finding a spot to rest. His legs shake from the long walk and sitting beneath a tree would do him wonders. Spotting a few bushes bearing a bountiful amount of yama ichigo, he harvests enough to fill his stomach for a while, humming softly at the sweet, slightly crunchy taste.
"Even after all these years some things don't change. How exciting," he grins.
As he munches on the few remaining berries he comes across an enormous tree clouding the sky above it with a bed of foliage. Senkū stares at it with wide eyes.
"That is the widest tree I've seen so far. It looks like it'll be perfect for shelter if I had stumbled on this tree before creating my hut, but at least I have another place in mind if something happens to my camp. The berries around here are plentiful, and the yama ichigo bushes aren't the only fruit bearing plants around here. Perfect if I can't find anything in a few hours."
Inspecting the tree further, he hums along to a tune lost to time, hand never leaving his dagger. When he makes a full circle of the tree, he freezes to a stop.
Yuzuriha, trapped in stone and in a protective stance as her gaze stares almost skyward, but in a protective cradle formed by the camphor tree he distinctly remembers being so much smaller that he'd last seen it.
"Yuzu…" he trails, hardly believing his eyes.
It's pure luck that brings him here, a road he chose because he was tired and in need of rest. If he had kept walking down this path he would've missed her entirely, and then he'd still question if he'll ever find her at all.
His eyes tear up.
"You and the big oaf are going to be the death of my dignity, you friggin' idiots," his voice cracks. Climbing the tree roots to reach her, he stares at her, taking in her petrified features the same way he's done to Taiju and forces himself not to cry at the relief that she's safe and unharmed. Even that ridiculous headband is still attached to her head, though it baffles him that the thing even survived this long without the wear and tear of time and weather.
He doesn't say another word to her statue. She can't hear him either way. Instead, he takes his dagger and carves a short message into the bark behind her peeking over her shoulder, sweat dripping from his forehead at the effort as he drags the blade to form simple words bold enough to be read without issue. Upon finishing, he gives Yuzuriha one last glance before hastily making his way back down the hill to return to camp, hoping to avoid wandering around at sunset when predators are active.
Wind sweeps through and he gives a little shiver, palming the bare skin of his arms to warmth and looks down at his attire with a mix of distaste and misery.
"Dammit—it's not even winter yet. This coat won't survive another few months if I don't make another one. If I use one of the uglier furs I can insulate the inner lining and layer the leather pelts three times. I'll need to make pants, too." Glancing back at what he can see of his wings he grimaces, stress lines carving into the skin between his brows as he spots the disorganized section of dirty feathers. If he can't tend to them he might as well cover them with a cloak.
"I need to add more layers or I'll freeze this winter, and that's the last thing I need."
It's not exactly freezing yet, but he's worried about winter. It's the time he gets sick almost every week, be it viral or bacterial. It's so bad he often got sick from students who never stayed home when they developed a cold or the flu, and recovering was annoying. He got sick seven times at a minimum in one month when he was 11 years old and Byakuya used to joke that sickness liked him so much it followed him everywhere and he wasn't wrong. Catching pneumonia once was not a happy time.
But getting sick in modern times is vastly different to getting sick in a world frozen in the stone age, and sickness is a death sentence in the absence of modern medicine.
Still, there are alternatives. He has plenty of molted feathers, leathers, and furs he stored away in his hut to keep warm, so that is enough to keep him from developing hypothermia or even pneumonia on his own, but food will be scarce compared to summer and catching live game will surely jeopardize his health. Deer would be moving much more frequently and hunting would be harder with the snow revealing his traps without the cover of bushes and trees. Predators would also be on the move once the snow hits and he'll be an easy target for anything possessing a large maw with rows of sharp teeth. With how limited his options are he'd probably hole up in his hut where they can't reach him unless he miraculously disguises his scent and blends in with the snow and pines around him.
"Not one millimeter would I go through the effort of making myself look like a Christmas tree," he palms his face, muttering beneath his breath.
At least he has spears to protect himself. Poking a lion in the nose with one last month was hilarious. Admittedly, the action eased the fear inside him somewhat. The nightmares losing partial consistency across fitful nights because the lion made a face that almost resembled those of cartoon characters and he almost died because he was laughing too hard.
Shaking his head, Senkū grabs some spears and the chert dagger as he makes his way out of the campsite, following the dirt path that formed from his frequent visits to the bat cave housing Taiju's statue when he has nothing else better to do. Each passing day he finds himself becoming more impatient for his friend's awakening, keeping track of the time since he'd found him as he goes about doing whatever he can to make things easier for himself and, eventually, Taiju, once the big guy is up and flying.
Senkū squints his eyes as he enters the cave, eyes zeroing in on Taiju still lying on the bed of dry grass with the nitric acid dripping on him. He makes himself comfortable and sits on the ground, gently depositing his spears to think, wanting to spend some time with the statue and pretend he isn't the only one walking.
Thoughts about Taiju take the place of distant worries for winter. Plans, really, that involve Taiju helping him get through it with his boundless energy and enthusiasm. He's not capable of doing what he's done for six months straight without consequences and the creeping exhaustion makes itself more and more apparent when his hands shake and drop things without him wanting them to, how his wings have been growing painfully restless to stretch and fly, his vision blurring, irritability spiking, and that the slight limp he has from the lion bite is slowly going away alongside the twinges of pain from putting weight on it.
To say the least, living in the unforgiving wilderness is hell.
"When are you waking up, Taiju? Are you really making us wait? I just found Yuzuriha, are you gonna make her wait for you even longer? It's been 3,719 years; I have so much that needs to be done but I'm not a musclehead like you are. I'm 10 billion percent sure i'm going to crash soon, so hurry your ass up."
Senkū leaves the cave after his little rant, sparing his best friend's statue a glance before he heads for camp, turning in for the day as his torches keep animals away.
The next day, Senkū heads out for an early start and heads in the direction of the river, feeling a bit bold yet paranoid as he leaves the safety of the camping grounds to collect more arikko. Several spears, a dagger, and some bolas he'd fashioned a while ago are strapped on his person as a precaution, one hand gripping the handle of his stone axe with white knuckles.
The sky is open again, allowing the sun's rays to shower him with warmth as a flock of ducks soar high above. A few stray clouds dot the bright blue and light reflects off the surface of the water rushing down the mountains. A small breeze picks up and Senkū lets it wash over him even if the tantalizing scene crows a taunt at him.
Unlike the first few times he's come down here this is possibly the only time he manages to avoid spiralling down into another hysterical fit over his wings. With time and the occasional visit to collect fresh water, the pain that festered slowly mends but the reminder of what he's lost will always be there as a deep ache that refuses to go away. The best comparison he can think of is the loss of a cherished individual.
His greatest advantage reduced to nothing but a liability. Like Icarus who flew too close to the sun. His wings crafted from wax melted to nothing as he flew too close to what he shouldn't desire and plummeted to his demise.
It's bitter irony and desolation that keeps him from walking back to his hut to curl in his nest.
He hears the calls of more ducks and he looks up to watch as they glide in formation, their graceful flying preventing them from breaking their form. His wings jerk and he nearly spits out what he's bitten off his apple as pain ripples across his back. He growls in frustration and devours the apple, throwing the core with such contempt he hopes its seeds would feel it.
It's 2PM when Senkū leaves the riverbed hauling pots filled with water up the hill he came from, sweating and gasping as the weight of his load tries to push him down. He revives the fire to roast leftover meat from a deer he caught earlier in the morning, settling down to fish out some mushrooms to cook on sticks.
Leaning back, he watches the flames twirl and dance to the whims of the breeze, shivers ghosting across his skin and giving him goosebumps.
The mushrooms finish first and he grabs a stick to bite into the soft cap, relishing in its taste. Without an abundant supply of spices to add flavor to his meals he chooses to savor them instead of wallowing in what he doesn't have. He's had too much to miss from the Modern Days to warrant another pity party and he's not including food on that list. The stress alone is killing him.
He wishes Taiju were here.
"What are you doing?"
"Making a rocket, what's it look like?"
"Whoa, that's so cool! And, uh… where should I put these?"
"If you want me to imprint on you, please don't be a dumbass and mess up my equipment. This project is important. You can set those by the door."
"You betcha, little buddy!"
"Don't call me that, you big oaf!"
Heh, he made it sound like he was the duckling finding a replacement mother and getting attached. Taiju was the first person to approach and reach out a hand in friendship even in the face of blunt observations and the insults that go right over his spiky brown head. He established himself as Senkū's protector in the face of danger, against many of the stronger boys when they trashed his inventions or threatened to hurt him by freaking them out with his "Defense Only Mode" pose. He made sure he escorted Senkū on their way to school every morning out of worry with a bag packed with gohan and hakumei, masking his intention to protect him by claiming that the smaller boy needs to eat more if he plans to grow taller. He kept Senkū company when emotions became too much, building over the course of months from experimental failures, a tiff with Byakuya, bullies from school, or simply bursting for no reasonable explanation that it startles even Taiju with how uncharacteristic the outburst is compared to Senkū's usual mood.
Taiju literally wormed his way into his heart, usually wary and distant from other human beings, but the big lug somehow pulled off a trapeze act and blundered his way into Senkū's way of life, brimming with bright enthusiasm and a never ending supply of optimistic positivity. Like a sun rising to kiss the earth's surface with life, and Senkū realized back then that Taiju would never betray him like many other children his age tended to do and for that he's immensely grateful, touched that another person would find him endearing enough to want to spend time participating in his experiments regardless if he looked like a dumbass.
Senkū lets a slow, pained smile grace his lips before it drops. He sighs and takes a swig of water, using some to extinguish the fire with a flick of a wrist. Reminiscing on better days only makes his mood sour.
Polishing off the remains of the other mushrooms with a few bites and eating halfway through the strip of meat, he hears a strange sound that sounds alien in this Stone World he lives in.
"Strange… a lion or a wolf do not sound like that. Foxes aren't even in the area from what I've seen. So what is this?"
Silence quiets the sounds around him into an eerie stillness that causes his feathers to puff up a little, his skin crawling as he lowers himself to the ground, careful of the wind that could potentially give his scent away. With how many zoos Japan once ran in the Modern Era he isn't sure if more than just two predator species managed to settle in the region he's in. So far, the lions and wolves were the only active predators he encountered, and a few of the zoos hosted tigers and bears as well as foxes and other carnivorous species.
"—nkū!"
Tearing his eyes away from the fire and whipping his head in the direction the sound came from, rippling in the distance like the bellow of thunder. Senkū feels his heart skip a beat.
"—nyone here?!"
Senkū jumps at the sound ripping through the air like a war call. Its guttural, deep roar from a distance is nothing like the roars of lions or the howling of wolves he's experienced in the Stone World. Is it another monster of an animal that caught his scent? Is it a person who also revived on their own? He isn't sure, and he scrambles to find his dagger and axe.
The noise is far too close to his location.
Huffing, he takes the meat from the spit and sets it aside to avoid getting ash on it by accident. Crouching and deftly snatching a few sticks he dashes into the forest to locate the disturbance, questioning if he really should seek out the disturbance that 10 billion percent freaks the hair follicles out of his scalp. Running head first is a boneheaded move on his part but something nags at him to seek it out.
What will he encounter? Is it a trap to lure him into the open for the intruder to strike? Is it an animal and he's just running headlong to his own death?
The answer to that question is unknown.
He passes trees and shrubs, lungs doubling in taking in more oxygen as his muscles begin feeling the familiar burning sensation of lactic acid as he forces himself to move faster, narrowly avoiding a deer prancing through.
"This better be something that won't kill me this time. I'm tired of lions and wolves trying to eat me every damn day!"
It takes him considerably less time to run down the hill and follow the river to climb the one tree that has low-arching branches he can easily climb onto. He pauses at the base, flicking his eyes around to spot even a hint of a threat. His wings don't shiver or puff up, so he can say with 10 billion percent certainty that whatever awaits him further ahead may be a neutral party at best.
Senkū slowly climbs his way up the tree, arms shaking to pull himself over each branch until he reaches the highest branch that can hold his weight. He shuffles around to settle on one covered in moss to take advantage of the view, narrowing his eyes as he scans the ground around him for any signs of a possible human being. Under the cover of foliage he feels he is hidden enough to watch his surroundings without alerting the intruder that he's in the vicinity. And with the wind blown towards him his scent is practically trackless if the culprit is coming from the east
Curling near the trunk he waits, ears latching onto every noise being made in the vicinity. He tucks his scarred leg to his chest, arms locking around it so he can rest his head on his knee, absently messing with his hair when minutes pass without anything alarming happening yet.
"—Senkū!"
Said boy springs up with a yelp, almost falling off his perch at the loud voice filling the area, echoing off to the distance as flocks of birds fly away with shrieking caws.
"What the hell," Senkū whispers, heart pumping too fast for his chest as he registers the voice speaking his name.
Hold up. This isn't happening now, is it?
He can attribute the strange phenomenon to hallucinations produced from prolonged isolation, his mind craving another human being to talk to creating those symptoms, but it's impossible. He's the only one here, alive and alone wandering around with statues staring back at him. It doesn't make any sense for another person to wake up unless they've been awake consuming calories throughout their 3,700+ years on their own.
Worry burrows in his chest as his breathing picks up. Has he gone senile already?
"I can't have become deranged in the six months I've been free," Senkū mutters, a hand palming his forehead. "There's not a millimeter of a chance for me to feel as such. It could be stress, lack of nutrients, exhaustion? Couldn't have been hallucinogenic mushrooms or poisonous plants, that would be foolish. Is it the water? Or staying awake for 3,700 years counting to myself? No, no—I'm missing something…"
Footsteps and the snapping of twigs from beneath him has his freeze.
"Hey, are you up there?"
Below. The bright voice—speaking perfectly smooth in Japanese—is coming from below his position in the tree. It startles him enough he almost slips off the branch he's perched on, wincing when his wings jostle from the sudden movement.
How in Sir Walter Scott's tic has anyone managed to sneak up on him without alerting him to their presence?!
Climbing higher Senkū contemplates his next move, fingering his dagger as he lowers himself to a crouch and peers through the cover of leaves, settling on a blob of pale pink and green in the distance. Bemusement colors his face and his eyebrows hike up his forehead, eyes searching out this mystery blob. When the thing doesn't approach he groans and slowly slides down to another branch where the leaf cover is less dense, clear enough for him to see what it is that caught his attention.
He could be hallucinating. Might've been the arikko he consumed to relieve him of a stomach bug he had last night.
Parting a few leaves, his eyes study the blob much more closely.
Two-legged, two armed, shiny hairless skin, ripped physique, head of hair, spiked eyebrows, earnest brown eyes widening at the sight of him emerging from the leaves.
"Senkū?"
Standing there healthy and alive is Taiju, whose eyes shine brightly when they latch on his partially hidden form.
"Senkū—it really is you," Taiju trails, eyes never leaving Senkū even as the scientist doesn't make any move to descend from his perch.
Senkū's eyes furrow as his mind comes to grips with this new change in more than six months. It isn't unpleasant nor is it surprising, but the suddenness of this long-awaited reunion throws him off.
Taiju looks healthier than he does in all his somewhat naked glory, looking up at him with a face mere moments away from breaking into tears of joy that threatens to reduce him to a blubbering baboon in seconds, a large toothy smile replacing the awed slack jaw as he takes a few steps closer. The oaf is naked with only a skirt of leaves and vines not unlike the one he made for himself when he broke free, looking almost embarrassingly small around his trim hips.
Senkū relaxes upon seeing another human being for the first time in half a year, eyes softening as a feeling he hasn't felt in a long time threatens to explode from his chest, locking his limbs in place even when he's shaking from both nerves and emotions. Taiju smiles wide at him and waves his arms about like the excitable moron he is, and the familiar sight almost has him tearing up right then and there, sharp ruby eyes closing as he clenches the branch harder, willing himself not to break into a sob in front of what he sincerely considers his best friend.
Senkū opens his eyes and makes a grin, hiding how his bottom lip wobbles as Taiju reciprocates.
"Yo, big oaf. 'Bout time you woke up."
Seeing Taiju's ugly mug after so long hits close to home how much he missed the guy.
And that lasts until Taiju springs at him with a flap of his wings with his arms reaching for him in a manner that has his instincts blaring in alarm at the incoming hug the boy is ready to give. He pales.
Shit, my wings! If he hugs me he'll crush my wings!
"Senkū! I'm so glad you're okay!"
Before Taiju can wrap his arms around him, Senkū kicks him in the face, skin crawling at the thought of Taiju hugging him while almost completely naked.
"What in Newton's name are you trying to do?! Don't hug me while you're naked," Senkū screeches, squirming away from those arms that can crush rocks like they're covered in flesh-eating bacteria.
Taiju sputters at the kick and whines as Senkū's foot presses harder into his face, looking happy even when a bruise might form on his cheek.
"But Senkū I missed you, little buddy!"
"I don't care if you missed me, you don't go hugging people naked all willy nilly you nincompoop! You would have broken my back!"
Well, also true.
Taiju pouts but his face contorts like a wrinkly pancake smacking a wall against Senkū's foot. "You're so mean, Senkū."
"I'm mean? I'm mean only because you love breaking my spine in half!"
"I do not!"
"Explain ninth grade," Senkū fires back, glaring at him.
Crickets answer that statement as Taiju groans.
"Sorry," Taiju mutters as he extracts himself, frowning when he actually takes a moment to study his best friend without the other freaking out over his clingy affection. Crouched as he is, Senkū seems hesitant to leave the cover of foliage hiding most of his body from him and the change in behavior sets off a red flag in his mind. Though he might not be the most reliable in the intellectual department he's far from stupid. Something's wrong and if it's affecting Senkū then he needs to figure out a problem.
Noticing the shift in Taiju's face, Senkū sighs in relief as he cracks his neck, missing how the taller teen flies up to the branch only to pull him off by the arm, causing him to yelp as Taiju hoists him up so he can wrap an arm around his middle. Senkū takes a moment to stare at him like he's lost his mind before his eyes wander to the ground, now more than 20 meters below. A sense of dread pools in his stomach.
"Taiju," Senkū draws out, unease spilling in his voice, "what are you doing?"
"I'm cheering you up," Taiju cheers, oblivious to Senkū's apprehension as they soar higher, his wings granting him altitude as they near stratus clouds.
Senkū sweats as his wings shiver nervously, the pain sparking like tiny shocks through his nerves. They're more than a kilometer from the ground now and he really wants Taiju to get down.
"Taiju, please tell me you're not going to—"
"What better way to celebrate than to freefall!"
Senkū's mind blanks.
Oh, Taiju and his cursed obliviousness was once considered the very thing that will be the death of him and this might be the prediction coming true. Taiju flaps his wings harder and Senkū tries to wrestle out of his strong grip, getting his attention to hopefully stop him from shooting any higher. His hair billows and curls around his face as he wiggles and fights Taiju's grip causing the arm to tighten around his waist. His wings jerk and shake and in his panic the pain only makes it worse. He can't fly, can't even pull off a glide with his wings the way they are and Taiju is recklessly pulling them upward for a freefall he has no chance in surviving.
"Senkū," Taiju smiles down at the smaller teen. "I'm not letting go without you free falling with me!"
Senkū's face whitens. Taiju doesn't realize he can't fly, not that he's told Taiju as to why but he can feel the drag lessening, their speed slowing down as wind dims to a breeze and his eyes contract to tiny pinpricks of red as fear shoots through his being.
That's what he was afraid would happen if Taiju got a hold of him, and currently the only thing that's flying is the train of screeching thoughts in his head cursing out the buffoon of a musclebound teenager who thinks this is a normal celebratory event when he's actually sentencing Senkū to an early grave!
"Taiju, please put us back on land," he pleads, struggling in his hold. "There's no need to celebrate right now!"
Taiju gives him a long, considering stare. "Oh, come on, buddy. You love freefalls!"
Yes, but in this instance he'll be nothing more than a smear without his wings.
"W-Wait. C'mon, reconsider. There's plenty of time for that after we… Taiju, wait, you can't—"
"See you there, Senkū!" Taiju stills his wings and reaches the peak of his ascent, slowing down as gravity leaches the speed from his body and Senkū would have admired the brief moment of stillness in the quiet of the near-heavens around them, the sun peaking through to illuminate their bodies, if it weren't for his handicap. Taiju's eyes are closed, content and happy, oblivious to the increasing panic that wells in Senkū's chest as the arm around him holds him closer. Then, his panicking peaks when the secure arm around his waist loosens and let's him go, a breath stuck in his lungs as Taiju tips to the side with his wings spread and a grin spreading on his face.
Oh, Einstein, I'm going to die. Dear friggin' Einstein and all that is holy Newton's law of universal gravitation, I am going to die!
Gravity pulls him down. He flails like a ragdoll, wind ripping through his hair and clothes as limbs claw at nothing for purchase, wind screaming past his ears as a sinking, nauseous pit digs in his stomach with a vengeance. He doesn't feel himself claw at his shoulders, his wings jerking violently as the instinct to fly overrides his careful control. A screech rips through his throat unbidden as the need to fly, fly high, spread your wings! courses through his brain.
Initially his speed starts at zero, taking in his body weight of 130 kg sans wings and the height he's falling from being around a kilometer in distance he'll slowly approach a threshold of 504 km/h upon impact, the amount of energy exerted upon impact would be around 1,274 megajoules.
It takes approximately 80 joules of kinetic energy to kill a human being. 1.274 megajoules are Super Sayan levels of lethality.
Again, he curses Taiju and his obliviousness.
He glares at Taiju even as his throat threatens to clog. "Idiot! Stop falling and fly us down," he screeches.
Taiju rights himself when he hears the screech and looks up to find Senkū failing, wings clamped shut and eyes blown wide with fear. His hands claw at the air like it's dragging him down and Taiju, for the life of him can't figure why.
Why does it look like Senkū can't use his wings? Why is he screaming?
Skyfalls are one of Senkū's favorite flying activities whenever he feels stuck or in need of entertainment. He often drags Taiju with him to go as high as they can possibly go before arresting their wings and diving towards the earth with exhilarated grins and bright rubies for eyes shining like a galactic treasure. He always waits until he reaches the last few feet between him and the ground before swooping forward with a spin, whooping as the accumulated speed rockets him across the landscape in a blur.
But looking at Senkū right now, his eyes are shut tight. There's no grin or sharp glint of scheming eyes, no.
Senkū looks like an ordinary pre-winged era human.
Without hesitation, Taiju snaps his wings down to rocket towards Senkū and snatches him from the air, flinching when Senkū latches on tightly and digs his blunt nails in his shoulders.
"Taiju, you friggin' idiot get us down!"
"I-I'm sorry! I just don't understand what's going on!"
"I'll explain later, just fly us down!"
Dreadful worry seeps into Taiju as he gently handles Senkū into a bridal carry, earning himself a glare as he slowly descends. He stares at Senkū, lost and confused as to why the shorter teen is acting like this.
Senkū loves the sky and the way the wind rushes against him, how his wings cut through the air like the sharpest blade ever created. He's never hesitated or objected to a freefall in his life and for the first time now rings alarm bells in Taiju's head.
That's when he notices something that doesn't quite look right. He questions whether it's real or not as his eyes latch on to a discolored mark on his left leg, his pelt hiking farther up his knee, unable to conceal it from Taiju's probing eyes.
He looks to Senkū's eyes, taking in the darker than normal reds and the exhaustion lingering in their shadows.
"Senkū…" he whispers, gaining the boy's attention. "What happened to your leg?"
Senkū shudders in his grip and stares at him with closed-off eyes, lips flattening to a line. They're only a few meters from the ground now as he flutters his wings gently. Senkū releases a sigh and groans, rubbing at his face.
Taiju's feet settle on land and he doesn't immediately deposit Senkū on the ground, opting to study him for anything else that might be out of the ordinary but Senkū wiggles to get out of his holed and he finally puts him down.
Senkū rearranges his messy hair and smoothes down his clothes but he neglects to rearrange his feathers, which is completely out of character for Taiju. Senkū tends to keep his wings in pristine condition and one feather out of place is enough to make him twitch unless he fixes it. To see him do nothing with either wing as he walks away unsettles Taiju.
He falls into step with Senkū and goes to ask a question when Senkū's oddly tired eyes stop him from doing so.
"It's a long story, Taiju. For now, follow me to camp. There's a lot I need to tell you."
Taiju stops and frowns at the tall-haired boy. "No. Something happened while I wasn't there for you and now you're trying to hide it from me."
Senkū flinches but he doesn't stop. The oddest thing about that reaction is the lack of movement from his wings, and Taiju sees most of his emotional cues through his wings. Right now, Senkū walks at an angle, as if he doesn't want anyone to see them, and Taiju frowns when Senkū awkwardly walks that way for another few minutes.
There's a sense of wrongness in the air as he continues to stare at him.
"Senkū—"
"Taiju, please."
Taiju freezes. Just now, Senkū's voice doesn't hold a lot of the confidence he usually carries back in their school days. It holds a fragility in each syllable that has worry sparking through his chest.
Something happened in his absence and Senkū wasn't protected at all. How long has he been free of stone while he slept?
"All right," Taiju acquiesces, but the curl of distress forming in his stomach has him asking, "Senkū, please tell me it isn't bad."
A sad, sardonic smile pulls at Senkū's lips. "If you're worried about my leg, there's more I'll have to tell you. You know me too well. It'll be obvious if I'm hiding anything."
Taiju nods, face turning serious.
Despite being considered slow-minded on some things, years spent together for almost everything has him acquainted with many of Senkū's cues, usually ones from his wings and face when no one is looking.
Their walk to Senkū's camp is quiet. Other than the occasional cry of birds and the crunch of dirt beneath their feet, the pair don't say a word to each other. Taiju attempts to strike up conversation to get a hint as to what's troubling Senkū but no words come out, and he finds it especially difficult to do so when it's clear Senkū is stalling the inevitable.
"We're here," Senkū mutters as he brushes away a branch to reveal an elaborately-made wooden hut sitting on a massive branch, rope and wood poles holding it all together. Beside it is a rack of spears, woven baskets full of mushrooms and fruit, what looks like a furnace made from clay in the corner, and a massive firepit to the left of it all, ashes still smoking.
"Senkū," Taiju whispers, awe gripping his heart as his wings open and flutter with delight. "Did you build all of this?"
"What do you mean? 'Course I did, I was the only one here for half a year while I was waiting for your ass to break out."
The answer has Taiju pause, mulling over his next words carefully as Senkū sets down the sticks he's gathered. "That long," he asks weakly. Then his eyes flick to Senkū's leg, the dark marks contrasting with his skin by a few shades.
Senkū notices and sighs, putting the last of the sticks away to tend to the firepit. "I'll tell you later. Right now, there are more important things to do."
"Right," Taiju nods, "Where's the city? I saw statues of people on my way to the camphor tree. A lot of them are stuck in rocks and cliffsides, too."
Senkū stops, frozen as a frown pulls his lips before he sets his tools down. The atmosphere now takes on a sullen tone and his feathers shiver a bit as the sounds around them fade. Taiju almost regrets asking him when a dark look crosses Senkū's eyes.
"3,719 years. That's how long we've been trapped in stone."
Taiju's freezes. "3,719 years? How… How do you know that?"
"Isn't that obvious? I counted the seconds, keeping in mind the current time and date we were petrified. Right now, it's October 5th, Sunday, 5738. It's around 3:32PM and the weather is pretty favorable."
"Y-You've been awake for that long?"
Senkū lets out a bitter chuckle, one that sounds wrong coming from his best friend and Taiju feels he's missing something. Looking back to his scarred leg, he furrows his brows and levels Senkū with a serious stare, one that causes him to look away, as if ashamed. Even that action is seriously wrong with the usually unruffled teen and that forms a pit in his stomach, heart pounding as he tries to formulate another question
"Senkū, what happened."
The cracks in Senkū's forehead twist with his brows as they crinkle, a line in the middle forming when previously it wasn't there before.
Stress lines. How did Senkū develop stress lines on his face when before his face was flawlessly smooth? He never really scrunched his eyebrows so much, let alone grimace when usually soft smirks and evil grins stretched on his face. And come to think of it, he also only had one lock of green-tipped hair hanging in his face; a second one joins the other on the left, framing his face and crossing over his nose. His physique is much more developed than it was when he'd worn that lab coat, and physically he wasn't very strong.
He can see developed calf and thigh muscles as Senkū climbs to his hut, the added muscle on his arms flexing as he hefts a basket to his back. The strangest things he's noticed, though, are out of character. Senkū walks around so silently he almost misses the younger boy climbing up his hut, which is slightly unnerving. The other thing is the way he's moving around. Despite the near soundless quality of his steps Senkū never once has used his wings.
That in itself is the equivalent of the apocalypse happening. Never in Taiju's years being around Senkū has he ever seen or heard the teen decline flying, let alone express himself through his wings. The only times he's been physically unable to fly were due to lightning strikes, sickness, and an injury that took three months to heal. Voluntarily, he'd refuse to stay grounded and Byakuya had a hard time keeping him planted on the ground.
It's as alarming as a loved one developing stage 4 cancer.
Senkū returns to the pit to roll a stick tied with rope to grind against a slab of wood, surprising Taiju when a spark of flame smokes into existence. Senkū deftly sets the pit alight and retrieves a basket full of mushrooms to put them on sticks and roast over the growing fire similarly to marshmallows. He then slides over a covered basket and opens it to reveal slabs of meat, taking two out to poke onto sticks. Taiju decides to wait before asking him questions, knowing full well when Senkū shuts people out when he isn't ready to spill his problems.
He sits down next to him and scoots closer to bump shoulders, feeling the younger relax when he does so.
They stay like that, eating voraciously as the roasted mushrooms and smoked meat fill their bellies. Taiju eats a bit more than Senkū, sighing in relief as the dull throb of hunger fades to fullness. He thanks him for the meal and Senkū shrugs it off. The typical hand wave he makes over the compliment is a familiar gesture that comforts Taiju, knowing some things haven't completely changed.
Night fully embraces the world by the time they finish, Senkū mechanically telling him it's now five in the afternoon. Taiju should feel somewhat awed by his ability to unconsciously tell time but he shudders when it sounds wrong, like the niggling feeling at the back of his neck warning him something is up.
He gets the chance to ask him why that is when they climb up to the hut to settle for the night.
Taiju admires the extravagant nest Senkū made, noticing the abundance of soft furs and molted feathers intertwined with vines, fronds, and all sorts of pelts lining the bottom. It's big enough for the both of them, oddly enough, but Senkū waves his curiosity aside.
"I don't always curl up, so a bigger nest is what I usually make."
Taiju nods. "That's fair. You don't like feeling cramped."
"Well, ever wake up with cramps all over your wings? It's a nightmare getting them out," Senkū snorts, waving a hand at him.
Taiju smiles before a bubble of laughter rings through the hut. "You always hated playing hide and seek on the ground because cramped places were the only places you could hide with your hair!"
Senkū flushes and rounds on him with such a menacing glare it could stop vikings but Taiju can't hold it in. An image of Senkū from when they were in their first year of middle school trying valiantly to hide in bushes and boxes always ended with him being easily spotted no matter what he tried until he started climbing in vents and nooks between bookshelves and chests in the offices to even win and the boy hated it all, proclaiming he was done playing the game when kids poked fun at his hair.
A set of pelts is thrown at his face and Taiju yelps, snatching the offending items before they could fall to the floor. He pulls them up and realizes they're clothes. His questioning eyes stare at them and then at Senkū, the teen looking back with an amused smirk as he alights a torch.
Taiju pouts at him, "So mean, Senkū."
"Ah, shut it you big baby. Be thankful I made you some clothes. It wasn't easy." A funny expression twists his face, looking like a cross between embarrassment and exasperation.
Taiju nods and heads down near the base of the tree, ripping off the leaf skirt and gently putting the pelt on, feeling how soft it is as he puts his arms through the sleeveless top, admiring the stitching running along the bottom. The next is the skirt-like pelts he wraps around his waist, tying a strip of leather around his waist to hold it all together. Admiring himself, Taiju moves his arms and legs, bending them to test how they fit and feeling pleasantly surprised when they don't pull or stretch.
A pair of leathers smack his face and he looks up to see Senkū smirking again.
"Put those on; your feet will shred if you keep walking barefoot."
Grinning, Taiju picks up the leather shoes and slips them on, tying the rope to keep them from slipping. He flies up to the hut and blinks when he finds Senkū setting up a torch on the deck.
"Why do you need to light the torch?"
Senkū frowns, looking out into the darkness as wind rushes through the trees. Taiju takes the time to close the tarp keeping the entryway clear, noticing the faint shivers plaguing the other's body.
"Wolves."
Howling echoes in the distance and Senkū flinches, hand whipping back to take out a stone axe from his bigger pouch, gripping the handle so tightly it's a wonder how the wood hasn't splintered yet. His eyes grow dark and his face is set in a scowl but his shoulders shake slightly, the feathers of his wings shivering. Taiju tenses, alarm gripping his mind.
A fanged mouth snaps out of the shadows to bite at the deck, startling Taiju into stumbling backwards as faint glowing eyes fade away. Senkū snarls and thrusts the axe downwards, clipping a wolf's muzzle and earning himself a pained whine. More growls surround the tree as Senkū glares at the dark, ears straining for another attack.
"Taiju, grab the spear at the back!"
"On it!" He scrambles to the corner of the hut, grabbing a lone spear with a reddish-hued stone knife attached to the wood. He grabs it and runs back to Senkū just in time to see him smack away a snarling wolf in the face, sending it tumbling down. Taiju watches in shock as Senkū then lunges, his axe impaling the skull of one wolf while another snaps its jaws at his legs, the boy hastily retracting with a flinch. Senkū growls and clips another with his axe, burying the sharp stone edge in a smaller wolf's neck.
Taiju's eyes sharpen as Senkū's shivering increases, white feathers with green speckles puffing up. He roars and grabs Senkū, throwing him back from a particularly nasty wolf that nearly manages to get on the deck aiming for the boy's arm. He thrusts the spear in hand to impale the animal in the shoulder, a howling whine silencing the growling of the rest.
Taiju hangs back, standing in front of Senkū as he brandishes the spear. The world falls eerily silent as they wait for the wolves' next move.
A few whines break the silence before the soft padding of paws on grass is the last thing they hear from them. Taiju takes a gamble to peer over the edge of the deck to see if any remain but other than the one with the split skull lying dead on the ground, none of the others linger. He sighs with relief but then snaps his attention to Senkū, worry in his gut when the younger boy simply stares in space.
"Senkū? You okay, buddy?"
A shuddering breath leaves Senkū's mouth, wings twitching and puffing up more. Taiju zeroes in on the wince on Senkū's face when his wings twitch again.
"Senkū," Taiju calls, voice low and calm. When Senkū gives him attention Taiju frowns. "I need answers."
Senkū sighs, shoulders drooping. When his wings don't exactly follow that action worry pools in his stomach.
"Senkū, please help me understand. Something is wrong and I know you're aware of it. When I was still trapped in stone something happened to you that you're refusing to tell me and I can tell it's hurting you."
The tall-haired boy looks away, a sheen of sweat beading at his forehead. "It's nothing you, big oaf. I'm fine.
"You're not fine. What happened to your leg?"
Taiju's frown deepens when the teen remains silent, opting to drop his bloodied tools to stumble to his nest, curling on one half and palming his scar. Taiju waits a while and sighs, padding over to sit down on the empty half of the nest. He blinks and takes a minute to appreciate the way the nest is made before addressing his pressing issue with Senkū's strange behavior, the light of the torch helping him catch Senkū's eyes.
Senkū gives him a soulless stare, eyes as dark as aged wine without the spark they used to have.
They remain like that for what seems like a long time, Taiju breaking the stare in favor of studying him much more closely.
Senkū's skin tone looks paler than usual, only visible when they reunited that afternoon and under torchlight it hasn't improved. There are dark circles under Senkū's eyes, a few scratches marking his jaw and neck, and the bandages over his arms is a strange fashion statement if Taiju ever saw one. The left leg with the scar on the calf is curled closer to Senkū's body than the right, and the warm lighting makes it easy enough to tell that it isn't too old. The old lichtenberg scars peeks from the high collar of his clothes with a dull shine. Then the wings, sitting worryingly still and tightly packed against Senkū's back is something of an anomaly considering how addicted to flying Senkū is inclined to be. Nothing about their condition lessens that worry when he'd seen how unkempt the feathers are, how they're in such disarray he's surprised Senkū hasn't had a conniption fit over how dirty his wings are at this point.
It's unfathomable how he's letting them get this bad when he's perfectly capable of preening them himself, come hell or high water.
"Senkū, you've never been the kind of person to look like that—not even after Hitoshi ripped some of your feathers out in middle school."
Senkū chuckles, the sound singing such an undertone of grief and loss that Taiju feels he's failed somehow; and looking at the shorter boy across from him under the dim light of the torch outside, curling into himself so tightly, he can see all of it, the tragedy clinging to his face like ink blots staining a once-flawless canvas.
"Senkū," Taiju whispers, dreadful fear burrowing deep in his heart. "What happened while I was gone?"
Senkū opens his mouth, words failing him only for his hand to cover it, and his shoulders shudder before a heart-wrenching sob shakes through his thin frame.
"Please," he begs softly, "tell me what's going on. I'm here now. You can trust me."
"While you were sleeping," Senkū rasps, "I woke up in the middle of spring, April 1st, and started cobbling together some tools and a campsite for me to survive. I had a plan and I was intending on finding you and Yuzuriha."
Taiju scoots closer, hovering when he senses there's more Senkū hasn't told him yet.
"It was nearing dusk when I tried to fly to a branch to sleep for the night, but I… my wings…"
Taiju listens raptly, jolting when Senkū hesitates at the last part of his sentence.
"Your wings?" Taiju glances at them and raises a hand to brush through the plumage, remembering that the boy likes having his feathers smoothed over whenever stress frays his emotions.
Senkū flinches and sucks in a breath of air, leaning away from Taiju's fingers as the feathers fluff up and shake in agitation.
Taiju retracts his hands as if he poisoned Senkū.
"You mean, back when we were in the sky—"
Senkū nods, hand rising to clutch at his shoulder. "I can't fly anymore, Taiju. My wings are crippled. I can't even move or open them more than a few inches before it gets too painful. Sometimes walking around makes them hurt, and trying to open them more than I can handle can cause me to lose consciousness."
"No… don't tell me you're—"
"I'm grounded."
Horror engulfs Taiju's heart, ceasing his chest with such suddenness he almost feels as though he got whiplashed. The thought of Senkū, smiling, free, and belonging to the great skies above suddenly being grounded and chained by gravity is enough for sorrow to take hold, eyes burning fiercely as tears fight to well up. Taiju sucks in a breath and gently weaves his arms around Senkū, feeling thin shoulders shake beneath his hold as the boy buries his face in Taiju's shoulder.
He hates that Senkū allows affectionate touches when he's feeling such grief when normally he treats the kind touch as though it were covered in filth. The ominous feeling is palpable in the air as the cries of animals die off and the eerily silent sobs shaking through Senkū's body is the only thing stopping Taiju from screaming to the world how unfair it is for taking away something so precious from Senkū.
When the moon dips from its highest point in the sky Senkū falls into a deep sleep, his body shutting down as Taiju sets him in the nest. The teen throws on multiple furs over both of them before settling in, curling a wing over Senkū out of protective instinct to keep him safe and warm.
"I'm so sorry, Senkū. For not being there when you needed me. I'll take care of the heavy lifting from now on. You're the brains like you've always said, and I'm the brawns! I'll build whatever you'll need so you can rest. You've done enough on your own, and when Yuzuriha breaks out we'll be in this together! Trust me on this, Senkū."
With that, Taiju goes to sleep, his last string of consciousness thinking of ways he can forage food for the both of them while Senkū rests.
You can count on me.