Prologue: Falling
Like birds with clipped wings, they fell and fell and fell until the ground embraced them, turning a bloody red. They lay with broken bodies, limbs askew and lifeless eyes stared back at you. Thousands of questions flooded your mind, what-ifs and whys at the front gates. Your emotions swelled like a rising tsunami and all you want to do was scream. You opened your mouth to do so, yet not a sound is heard.
Someone swept you away from the scene. Covered in black from head to toe, they held you tightly and didn’t let go. It’s comforting in a small way and first time tonight you let the tears fall freely. Somewhere along the way you drifted to sleep.
You awakened to an unfamiliar room. Gently you touched the soft cushion beneath you. Futon your mind supplied, you learned that yest-red, blood, falling, falling, falling. Without warning everything that happened yesterday came raging back with vengeance. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to accept what happened. Your parents could fly; they would never… fall to their death.
A heavy hand rested on your shoulders as you looked up to see a kind face. He’s dressed weirdly, not as unusual as you are accustomed to, but not normal like the people you see on the streets. His language is broken and hard to piece together but you gather the general gist of what he was staying: apologies, promises, worry and concern.
Another man entered the room. Unlike the one sitting next to you, he was sterner and not so gentle looking. He informed you that they caught the person responsible for your parents’ death. That brought some comfort to you but you much rather have your parents back. You want your mother to hold you tight, your father to launch you into the air. You want to fly.
But that was all gone now. All you are left with was broken pieces and tears.
The second man asked you if you want to stay here. They were willing to adopt you, to take you in. He warned you though that it was slightly different here. Not normal. You’re okay with that. Normal didn’t belong in your vocabulary before and any comfort now is better than none. Without any hesitation you accepted. The man smiled at you (its slightly weird) and left you in the care of the first man.
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There was so much to teach you. This was not the culture you grew up with. It wasn’t even the same language and even though you’re young, you have already missed on so much. The family that took you in was definitely not normal by any means and you watched in amazement at the some of the things they can do.
You dive headfirst into it. There’s nothing more you can do and it provided a distraction from the nightmares. You learned and soaked up everything like a sponge. Within a year, no one could tell that you weren’t born into the family. Then things began to happen.
They’re not a normal family. You know this well, you’re one of them now. History lessons told you of the family’s sworn enemy. You watched from the sidelines, hiding in the darkness. Bloody battles become commonplace. Roars of explosions and clashes of swords engulfed everything, stealing away more people you knew. You were never close to any of them except for the two men you met the first day you arrived into the family, but it hurt nevertheless.
One day the second man summoned you. Over the last year, you’ve learned that he was only stern looking because he had to be. He had to be strong in order to fight and survive in this battle. It didn’t mean that he didn’t care. There were plenty of times where he’ll stop by to make sure you are adjusting well. There were occasional gifts for birthdays and Christmases and the rare but much appreciated private lessons. No one can say he didn’t care. He was a little like what you imagined your father to be at this age only sterner looking and much busier. (For the record the first man is totally your grandfather.)
Today though there were no joyous occasions to celebrate. The atmosphere is tense and somber. You almost flash back to the day when your parents fell but quickly you pushed those thoughts out of your mind. There was no time to grieve.
There was a mission for you and only you. You can tell he was against it, can tell he never wanted to do this, not to you at least. But you understand why it was necessary. He warned you of the hardship, told you it wouldn’t be easy. You’ve never backed down from a challenge before. You accepted the mission. It’s the least you can do, to pay back for all his kindness.
The day turned to night and the main house was suddenly lit with flames. As your ‘grandfather’ ushered you out of the house to safety you get a glimpse of your ‘father’ riding out to battle one last time. You know this was his last stand. With a final glance you see him fall, buying you and the rest of family much needed precious time.
Tears weld up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. This was not the time for crying. You needed to be strong, for him.
You’re six years old and your parents are dead. The man you considered to be your second father on some level just gave his last breath to protect his love ones. You watched your family crumble away piece by piece and knew the one responsible for this last death will be back again. You need to get stronger to protect them all.
On that day you stopped being Richard Grayson and became Shiba Takeru.