Chapter Text
Naoko worried her lip as she peered through the thin sliver of space beside the door into her son's bedroom, observing the gray shadowy mass bundled upon his futon in the far corner, lit only by the soft glow of stars-pinpricks that danced across the screen of a PC monitor that had seen better days. Her son had burst into their home only a few hours after he had left for school the previous day, tears in his eyes and nearly hyperventilating; she had offered an ear from across the threshold, it was all she could manage without intruding, even as the day melted into night without reappearance or explanation from her offspring. Now, several days past the unknown incident, there had at least been signs of life-during the day when she or his father weren't home, she had noticed stock of their non-perishables ever so subtly depleting, heard the telltale sounds of water running in the washroom late at night; though he refused to sit down for dinner or show himself at all outside his room, Naoko was at least relieved he wasn't starving himself, or worse.
Even so, she had called his school-at first in order to inform them of his continued absence, then in a fury after having learned that her son had been removed from the student council for apparent 'immoral practices' and a slew of dress code violations. She'd had her suspicions for quite a while, ever since she'd found the modified sailor uniform in the wash at the start of the school year; his crossdressing wasn't a behavior she initially encouraged, not out of shame or revulsion-she was quite proud of the person he was, she only felt that person tried a bit too hard to follow in his mother's footsteps at times. But she relented, ultimately won over by the radiance her son displayed coming home from class each day since he started high school-so she turned a blind eye to the clothes hidden in his schoolbag, and silently pretended that the effort he put into his schoolwork was the result of a desire to achieve, and not the product of expectations laid upon him for what he was.
Now though, the sheen that she'd associated with his rejuvenated school life had vanished entirely. The hesitation she'd felt previously dulled after she'd noticed the handful of downy tufts in the wastebasket; her son was a teenager after all, and it was expected that he'd be a bit too rough when handling his pinfeathers-what had given her pause had been the colouration of the discarded feathers: Among the pile of white were dull lengths of ashy gray staring back at her from within the bin, dotted with specks of orange around the edges that sent spikes of alarm through her spine. With evidence of overpreening, especially from around his still delicate eyespots, worry that her son might be hurting himself overrode any sense of decorum she'd had about the previous incident, leading her to stand before her son in the dark room. She could already see most of the damage from just a quick inspection, soft splotches of red speckled the dome he surrounded himself in-several feathers, having been roughly plucked from his wings, decorated the mattress and floor around him.
"...go 'way", a teary muffled drawl made it's way beyond the wall of blotchy feathers. She'd thought him to be sleeping, but it seems he'd heard the gasp she couldn't help but utter upon the sight of dozens of inky black scattered like leaves before her-several plucked and left to clutter around her feet, many more still emplaced throughout an expanse that had been a pristine white mere days before. It wasn't the colour itself that startled her, that very same hue shaded the appendages that arched from her own back-rather the sudden intensity with which her son's wings had been altered. It was the pain of childbirth that had darkened her own feathers, abandoning the pristine white that society coveted from her in order to start a family. She'd given up her social status and she hadn't regretted it for a moment, enduring the nasty eyed glares that put her own eyes to shame, and the vicious mockery whenever she left the house-she would have shorn her wings from her back in their entirety if it meant she could raise a child with the man she loved, consequences be damned. No matter the raven shade she adopted, her halo remained bright as the day she fell in love all those years ago, but now the honey golden glow of the sensory organ dulled as she sat beside her son's shivering form, rubbing gentle circles into his back.
She still didn't know what had instigated the drastic change in her son's physiology, though she could make an educated guess, but he'd clearly reacted poorly to the darkening feathers and prominent eyespots; most angel's sensory glands come in scarcely a shade lighter than the surrounding feathers, hardly noticeable-her son's came in a burnt orange that contrasted harshly against his previously white composition. In regards to his health, the difference was negligible-sure, he'd be a bit more sensitive around the midspan, and probably require more time to acclimate when in flight, but that's all it was: simply a novelty of genetics, a bit of trivia to hold onto in life. The rest of the world however, ran on superstition; Angels had always been in the public eye, even after the modern age washed away the mysticism and folklore, there were still certain societal obligations their kind were expected to adhere to-and her son had strove not to disappoint. Subaru was naturally good natured, and treated others kindly-beyond that, society expected him to be magnanimous, selfless to his own detriment. Subaru was naturally curious, he sought out knowledge that interested him and picked up skills quickly-beyond that, society expected him to excel at everything he did, to outshine those around him and lead by example. Subaru had bright, fluffy wings that shone like his own dazzling smile and accentuated his lithe, effeminate charm-beyond that, society expected that he maintain an immaculate and unsullied appearance. Finally, society demanded that you do not indulge in sin, you must be sure of yourself and of your actions at all times. You must be capable of determining good from evil, and strive to do good always.
Angel or otherwise, Subaru was still a child-a teenager with insecurities, just as any other highschooler might; in spite of both society and himself, Subaru had fought to the top of his grade in both primary school and junior high-he thought he'd earned the right to debut in high school as the angel he wanted so dearly to become, so long as he lived up to society's expectations of him. He'd scored well above entry level for his preferred school, far enough away that he wouldn't encounter any of his former classmates and close enough that no one would question the intentional obfuscation, a modest commute giving plausible deniability when HE became SHE somewhere on the way to class. And for a time, she was happy-contented with her school life, she became more outgoing-running for student council president, participating in club activities, all the while striving to achieve her very best academically, lest she fall behind and lose what she'd earned. Balance had been established, tenuous to be sure, but balance nonetheless.
Then her eyespots began to grow in.
Suddenly, her pristine white feathers were etched with a violent red-orange filigree; what she knew to be benign sensory glands, necessary to maintain her bearings when her body finally deemed her ready to take flight, to those around her, eyes of the occult burned themselves onto her wings. Overnight, rumours sprouted; in all of Hokkaido, there were only three angels known to her peers-her, her mother, and that vague memory of a bright young boy who hadn't been seen since junior high. It was her word versus superstition, and with the raven black wings of her mother already spat upon, no matter how much she espoused the many scientific studies and established works that separated her kind from myth-perception of her had already been irrevocably altered. No longer was she the pride of Hokkaido, now there was something wrong with her; the student council position she'd worked for no longer afforded her the respect it had previously, and she was quickly forced to resign her presidency. She found herself excluded from club activities and deliberately left out of the loop; in her efforts to maintain her grades, she hadn't made any particularly close friends throughout the year, and found herself ostracized and without any means of combating her rapidly declining reputation amongst her classmates.
Worst were the teachers, "She must be that Old Crow's spawn", one jeered. "Guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, just what did he see in that harpy?", tutted another. The slander accompanied further changes; in her attempts to stymie the flood of negativity pouring over her, she tried to prune her eyespots-willing to give up flight forever if it meant she could go back to the way things were before. The pain was too much, the stress caused her to molt early-and when the pinfeathers burst, she couldn't stem the tears that ran down her cheeks. Sprouting from her back were the beginnings of the pitch black wings of a raven. She tore out clumps by the handful, what replaced them grew in dark and patchy amongst her formerly white wingspan-slowly being overtaken by sheets of silky black. As the feathers soured, so did the rumours-suddenly she was a whore, a delinquent, a pregnant teen, a drug addict, or a compulsive liar-any idea that could explain her sudden 'Fall', anything and everything were the cause, all except for the abuse they levied at her daily, of course. She was a sinner, it shone right there on her wings.
After all the thumbtacks in her shoes, slurs carved into her desk and bentos dumped onto her blackened wings-it didn't even come as a surprise when SHE was revealed to be HE, it became just another reason to torment him. Any acquaintances that had previously retained even a modicum of consideration for her avoided him like the plague, if they didn't decide to take out their anger on the 'XXXXXX that tricked them'. His grades fell alongside hers, soon enough he didn't even bother coming to class. Freshman year came and went, and Subaru was quickly forgotten-ceasing to exist as anything other than the occasional crass, tasteless joke and a cautionary tale with no clear moral.
Good Riddance.
Subaru stood up from the desk chair, thin fingers running through his mop of a haircut; after seven straight hours of PC gaming, he desperately needed to stretch out for a bit and his modest accommodations were simply too cramped for his entire wingspan. Besides, his mom had rules about not unfurling in the house, lest he knock over anything breakable-and he was with it enough to respect what few rules his parents actually cared to enforce (even though his mom's clumsy wings had broken far more assorted dishware than his own). Sour thoughts momentarily rose; the damage he had done to his wings had stunted his development slightly, putting him off track for proper flight by over a year-stretching was ALL he could do at the moment, attempting to fly left him more likely to auger into the ground than not, so he was stuck with the world's most socially damaging cape, and little else to show for it. The one theobiologist he'd spoken too that was able to separate their dogma from their scientific professionalism had said the damage wouldn't be permanent, but he would likely suffer increased flight strain and require additional physical therapy. At this point, he wasn't even sure he cared to fly anymore; his mother rarely did herself, and he would require a license to do so anywhere within city limits. He doubted it was worth the extra attention just to shave a couple minutes off a trip to the corner store.
The twenty-four hour mart seemed to be the only place he frequented these days, his home was far enough from school that he wasn't too concerned about running into any former classmates-at least, none from his high school. After he'd dropped out, his first attempts to brave the outside world hadn't gone especially well; he'd managed to avoid any of his previous bullies, but that didn't stop his neighbors from forming their own opinions-thankfully the most he got were distasteful stares, but that didn't stop every interaction from being awkward as all hell. He learned to limit his excursions to the dark hours of the night, at least then his wings weren't immediately visible unless you were nearby or he was standing under a streetlight. The convenience store lived up to it's name, allowing him to purchase what meagre goods he felt he deserved without having to brave a congested shopping centre-though his initial venture had left his heart racing, as he'd found the clerk to be that of a classmate from all the way back in junior high. The teenagers weren't quite childhood friends, but they'd interacted often enough in their school days that the clerk could recognize one of the two angels currently residing in Hokkaido-even if he'd had something of a change in disposition between that time. Idly, he'd wondered if he would have recognized him in his sailor outfit, now that he wasn't pretending to be a model student.
Surprisingly, his old friend had been remarkably chill about the dramatic change in appearance-somehow able to reconcile the formerly prim cut, sparkly white of his past with the new obsidian makeover. Subaru didn't really get it, he was well aware of how much of a fuck up he was, and it showed; without the pressure of expectation forcing him to maintain his appearance, he'd cut his long curtain of hair into a rough pixie cut, manic spikes jutting in random directions as sharp bangs framed the sides of his face. The tufts of hair that fell across his face did little to hide the dark rings around his eyes, nor the faint amber glow that emanated from them-though they did meld with the sunset that crept up the tips of his bangs, the same shade of his eyespots somehow leeching their way onto his scalp. At this point he wasn't sure he cared anymore, the girl he'd tried to be had died a painful death in high school, and now he was stuck living in the smoldering remains of her life, clinging to the embers even as they burned themselves onto his body. Also, he was pretty sure his nipple piercings were showing through his tank top. The thin black garment was pretty much the only shirt he could be bothered to squeeze into these days, since it was easy to get the straps over his wings and the open back avoided any chafing around the roots. The only real issue was it left exposed the tattoos he'd gotten in a shadier part of town at the height of his depression: The star cluster of his namesake, emblazoned on his bicep alongside several other of his favourite constellations, stylized star patterns dancing across his shoulders did not do wonders for his already stellar reputation, but he could hardly bring himself to care anymore. To be honest, he didn't even remember getting them-or frankly, how he paid for such an elaborate design.
After their initial awkward greeting, he'd spent the next thirty minutes catching up-enjoying the first conversation he'd had with anyone other than his parents, offline at least, in nearly a year. It was... nice, to be able to just be himself for a little bit without any preconceived notions from the other party. The clerk did seem a bit distracted at points throughout their conversation, the source of which was obvious, but it felt more like genuine curiosity-rather than discomfort or hostility. He did have to draw the line when the other teen asked if he could touch them, however; crossing his arms underneath his modest bust with a raised eyebrow in response to the stuttering inquiry. Regardless of the faux pas, Subaru found himself exchanging contact information with the clerk-black claws tapping away at his touch screen, keychain dangling throughout the exchange. That had been around a month ago now, and he had slowly begun to claw his way out of the hole he'd been tossed into all those months ago-guess the talons his fingernails had grown into were good for something, he mused.
With these new constants in his life, something approaching stability settled into place. They changes he had undergone were permanent-but, for the moment, they seemed to have stopped. And, for the most part, he was okay with that. There was still a lot he didn't like about himself, but he could live with the changes-so long as people learned to mind their damn business! The one change he couldn't accept, no matter what, was his halo; the golden hue he had been so proud of had long departed, replaced by a black that was even darker than his wings-it resembled the perfect black paint he'd seen online in art galleries, a void that sucked in the light around it and was difficult to look at. What had once been the hallmark of a healthy mind had cracked, blackened and sprouted a thick coating of thorns-each as dark as the ring they grew from. Only the inside rim was free of such protrusions, having imploded into the event horizon of his inner turmoil that threatened to devour every aspect of his life. Now, the cranial ornament had calmed down, floating lazily above his skull-aside from two, slightly more prominent thorns jutting from the front of his halo, it hadn't undergone anymore drastic changes in weeks. His government mandated physical had left him with severe confusion about his internal organs and a warning to watch for any growths along the spinal cord, but he wasn't worried. If he started growing spines like Godzilla, at least he'd have a career path opened up for him.
But hey, at least he can smoke without having to worry about lung cancer.
Actually, he was starting to worry about spinal growths, or scales-something! His mineral intake had gone off the charts, and something was telling him it was building up to something. With teeth as sharp as his, people-himself included-would assume he was an obligate carnivore, instead he finds himself craving volcanic rock; pumice and obsidian, amongst other things-though charcoal briquettes will do in a pinch. With both the jaw strength and the dental durability to chow down on literal rocks, Subaru was feeling more like a dragon than an angel-even a fallen one. Still... he couldn't deny the satisfying crunch whenever he popped the stones into his mouth. The convenience store had even begun to stock a small supply of porous rocks every week, ostensibly for exfoliating purposes, but he knew his friend was just looking out for him. Honestly it was sweet of him; he'd only mentioned the cravings in passing during one of his regular stops, only to find a small display setup the next time he visited. He'd have to remember to gift him something to say thanks down the line.
For now, he was jonesing for a cig and some lava rocks-his mother didn't approve of his new habits, the smoking at least, she didn't really understand the eating rocks thing, but she tried her best to accommodate him (so long as he never smoked inside the house). Really, if he had one regret to sum up the course of his life, he hated that he made his mother worry. His dad wore his emotions on his sleeve, he'd know if the man was bothered-which he wasn't-but his mom... her halo was the reason he tried to be what he was for so many years. That brilliant golden aura, a disk that radiated warmth and comfort-shining like the sun in spite of her own raven wings. He'd tried to live up to that ideal more than anything else, and fallen all the harder for it. But he didn't care about that, well-he did, he really really did-rather, he hated that his own actions had affected his mother so severely. Her halo wasn't a black void of depression and internalized self hatred like his, it had simply faded to an eggshell white. It didn't glow, or hum-no warmth radiated from it, it simply floated above her head-lazily spinning in place.
It simply, was, and that's ALL it did.
He knew she didn't blame him for the change, on more than one occasion she had claimed to enjoy the fact that it looked a bit like a powdered donut. Honestly, she was inscrutable at times. Regardless, it didn't ease the guilt-just another regret to plaster across his body in some form or another. Shaking the soreness from his eyes, he made for the door-even in winter he didn't really mind the cold, so the top half of his tracksuit found itself tied around his waist, leaving his midriff exposed below his tank. Years ago, he might have been self conscious about showing so much skin-now he was too jaded to cover up. The faint sound of the kitchen faucet met his hears before he reached the end of the hallway, his mom with her back turned, doing the washing up in the dead of night. He'd wondered if he got his insomnia from her, but decided it was likely the other way around. She still jumped, even as he tried to announce his presence walking up to her.
"Hey, Ma-", a hand on her shoulder, frowning at the frailty beneath her skin, "L'emme handle that, you go back to bed-yeah?" She stared for a moment longer, as if coming to some conclusion only she was aware of. Slowly, he took the dishes from her hands and gave her a small hand towel-she stared at the towel.
"...thanks", she took the cloth and dried her hand, halo spinning all the while like an indicator light on a hard drive, "You're still my little angel, Subaru. Don't stay out too late, okay?", and without waiting for a reply, she strode off towards her shared bedroom, wings twitching uncertainly alongside. The sight confused him, she was normally more verbose-even after the rough time of it they'd been having lately, she was always one to keep her chin up. Maybe she'd been sleepwalking? Something about the encounter ruffled his feathers, and he found himself craving a smoke more than ever.
Finishing up the last of the dishes, Subaru gave the kitchen a once over-to see if he could save his parents some trouble. It didn't look like they'd used it very much the previous day, so he got to going; it was only a fifteen minute walk to the corner store, and his buddy worked all hours it seemed-at least, he'd never seen anyone else working there. Resolving to ask when he got there, the rest of the night walk passed by quickly and the familiar neon lights crept into view. The sudden glare brought his hands to his eyes for a moment, inexplicably lightheaded-either he was coming down with something, or he was a bigger addict than he realized. Should buy extra cigs while he's here.
"Huh, I wonder if you can get addicted to rocks", the inanity tickled him for a moment, and then it passed. Stretching his wings before he entered the store, he noticed eyes on him and waved to the teen at the register. Moseying on in, Subaru greeted his friend more directly-that is, yelling across the store in his general direction.
"Yo! Hook me up with the usual, just double it-I'm feeling a bit out of sorts, might be a minute before I stop by, if I end up laid up in bed", his friend behind the counter nodded, shoveling an additional few scoops of a gravely persuasion into a brown paper bag.
"You got it, just keep your cooties to yourself-I don't wanna end up with the bird flu or something, heh!", that smartass-the thought was interrupted by three times the usual packs and an extra bag of rocks joining the first on the counter.
"You wi-Geez! That might be out of my range; how much do I owe ya?"
"Don't worry about it man, I'll cover you-JUST, the extra stuff though, alright? Still need to sell something around here, after all", the angel was struck, momentarily, by some... by some sort of sensation, a heat behind his throat that left him dry swallowing and teary.
"Hey man, don't go bawling on me! I don't get paid to babysit, ya'nno?"
"Yeah, yeah-no, I getcha. It's just," after handing the clerk a bill and promptly refusing the change, Subaru gathered up his purchases and made for the exit-briefly mulling over a few words in his head, before closing his mouth. The ringing in his ears was making it difficult to focus, and he found himself rubbing at his eyes once more. As he did so, a strange breeze circled him, causing his feathers to stand on end. When he uncovered his eyes, he immediately shielded them again; bright sunlight penetrating his sensitive night vision. Slowly acclimating to the environs, the fallen angel spun a few times in a lazy circle before staring dead ahead, almost in a trance. He bristled at the crowds of people to either side, the stench of sodden roadways, creatures he had never seen before marching to and fro. Without explanation or warning, Natsuki Subaru found himself smack dab in the middle of a medieval fantasy with naught but a paper satchel full of rocks and cigarettes, the clothes on his back-and the contents wherein.
And, of course, his all too important wings.
Where the fuck am I!?