It was quiet. Too quiet that even the smallest gasps leaving his mother’s lips were almost deafening. Each passing second was gnawing upon Ruu’s patience, and soon, his sanity. How much longer does he have to play the part? Days, months, years, maybe centuries? Spirits, he doesn’t know anymore.

If only I could join Big Brother Kama, maybe I would have…

“Ruu,” his father, no, Grandpa Mata called upon him, “The Thunderbird awaits you.” The man’s calloused palm reached out to him.

Those words, no matter how many times it reaches his ears, never fail to make his throat dry. He tried to find his words, but only gasps left his lips. And when his eyes met the priest’s, he couldn't help but notice the way his eyes glistened under the dimming sky.

Is he crying?

No, his father was never the one who wears his heart on his sleeve. Always so distant. Always so unwavering... like the fog the Thunderbird blessed Tsurumi. And yet, in that moment, he saw a side he never knew. Humanity and vulnerability.

After all, his father bleeds the same shade of crimson as him.

"Yes, Grandpa Mata."

The boy nodded his way, pulling his coat around himself with his trembling hands. It wasn’t even cold in the slightest, and yet the very atmosphere sent beads of sweat down his forehead. In each step he took, his knees would tremble under his weight. Until one particular pebble makes him lose balance for a second.

He braced for impact, but it never came.