Chapter Text
When he's five, his mother gives him a book. It's one her mother gave her, a tattered book with a broken spine, filled with dulled colors and yellowed pages. It's old, older than his mother, apparently, and she gives it to him with a gentle grip and tender eyes.
"For you," she says quietly, and opens the book to the first page, where the dedication is scribbled in faded black ink, the color staining the pages like blood on white sheets when he cuts his finger.
"给我最心爱的孩子," it reads. To my dearest child. "希望你也把它传给你的孩子。" In the hope that you pass it on to your next child.
"What's this?" He asks, rubbing his finger over the ink, tracing the characters written by his grandmother. In this day and age, where holograms are everywhere and books have long since made the transition into software, drifting online in the realm of the internet, this is the second time he's seen a book. The first time he's seen one, he didn't actually read it. It was a book his mother had read in preparation for him, she had said. How to raise a child.
You did pretty good, he had told her firmly, and she had laughed, bright and happy, tinkling like wind chimes in the sky.
"It's a story. About a legend." His mother strokes his hair, placing her hand across his. "A legend passed down in our family."
Legends always stem from something. Believe everything, his mother told him. Nothing is impossible. He holds the book closer.
"Is it real?" He asks his mother.
She doesn't say anything, but she grips his hand and her smile tightens. "All legends are true."
He flips open the book, and a whine settles in his throat when he realizes it's all in Chinese.
-=-
Keith doesn't know when or how, but he's always known that he can do things others can't. It's the simple things that tell him this: the way he never gets bruised even though he trips like it's a new fad, the way he can scream with laughter outside the grouchy old lady's house but never get yelled at even though other kids are sent home crying when they try the same, the way he can run deep into the cursed forest in the middle of the night but still find his way home.
The cursed forest is not a joke. Children have entered, they have gone missing, and his mother doesn't do anything but remind him to come back before breakfast the next day if he wants to go into the forest. The forest is wild and there are noises coming from it at varying times of the day, but they are loudest and eeriest at night when children lie in their bed and shudder.
He goes in, and the vines pool at his feet, curling at his ankles and the shadows inch towards him, quiet and dark and everything Keith wishes he could be. When he's draped in black, hiding in the world between here and there, that's when Keith feels the most at ease.
His mother has never entered the forest to find him. Then again, when it gets too late - too early? - when the day is about to break, when the sky lights up again in hues of crayons that Keith accidentally melted when he broke them, it feels like the forest is pushing him out. Reminding him with harsh tendrils and painful thorns that his mother is waiting.
Keith goes. There isn't anywhere else for him to go.
-=-
"You are magic," his mother tells him.
Keith stays silent.
-=-
When he's eleven, he's long limbed and lanky, tripping over himself when he climbs stairs or walks with his eyes on his hologram instead of the road, and it's on a normal day like always when he enters his house and finds it lacking.
His mother, Keith decides, standing stock still in the hallway and wondering where his mother's scent has disappeared off to. She's always smelt like ash, like incense, but Keith has never seen his mother pray.
He wanders through the house, fingers grazing items that seem to retain her lingering scent - they are few and far between, and Keith wonders why he can't feel anything from the picture of them hanging on the wall, but can feel his mother's touch on the table in the kitchen.
The book is on his table, and his windows are thrown open, wind sauntering in and messing up his curtains, blowing his hair into disarray. He makes to open the book, wondering if perhaps his mother had left something, and the book flips open as a big gush of wind blows in.
The pages flutter, and they land on a story. There is a slight indent on the corner of the page, like someone's holding it down with a finger, and Keith gravitates towards it.
He doesn't touch it. Instead, he looks at the book, looks at the legend put into words on yellowed paper and sees a hastily scribbled note.
妈妈得走了。
His finger hovers over it, hesitating to touch the black ink that has yet to dry, and he lets his eyes drift down to the words below.
It was his favourite story when he was younger. It was his favourite because it didn't have a happy ending.
"All legends are true."
His mother's words resonate in his mind like a dying message.
-=-
It's a classic. Romance is something everyone craves to read, no matter which culture. Forbidden love is even better, and a god falls in love with a human, the way people fall in love with dangerous things, the way people love fleeting things, the way people love things that will hurt them. It's a beautiful portrayal of breaking apart, with these two diverse beings destroying themselves with each other.
Their child is born from love, but he is why the story becomes a tragedy.
Gods are jealous of the things they cannot have, and love with humans is one of them. And so, and so, instead of punishing the parents, they branded the child.
Until he dies, they said, this child will not know love.
-=-
Keith reads it over and over again, curled up on his bed with instant noodles cooking on the table beside him. The blanket is thrown around him, windows left open to welcome wind and he reads until he can recite it.
He looks up for what seems like the first time in a long time, and chances a glance out of the window. A blank night sky, and he can't see any stars.
The forest is quiet.
-=-
He is officially acknowledged as an orphan, and as all orphans are forced to, he takes the pilot test. There is no one to sign the parental consent form. He can sign it himself, he thinks, looking at the form in his hands with a quick not applicable scribbled at the top. He is an orphan, and parental consent does not apply to him.
If he dies in training - or combat, should he pass -, there will be no one to mourn him. Keith flips through the contract, quietly looking through every clause as the man waits patiently in front of him.
"Can I say no?" Keith asks, looking up. There hasn't been anyone to cut his hair recently. It tickles the bridge of his shoulders.
The man smiles apologetically. "Your necessities will only be provided for if you join the space course."
If he takes the test but fails, he still won't have anything.
"I'll take the test."
His fingers twitch as he signs everywhere he's supposed to, and on the parental consent form attached below the contract, his mother's signature flutters to life in black ink.
He can trace her signature out in his sleep.
-=-
Piloting is easy. It comes to him in bits and pieces, random jumble of emotions floating through technology and pressing against his fingertips. The ship warns him if the turn he's planning on making won't work, even if it's only a simulation, and it becomes second nature.
It's just machinery, after all. A big lug of different alloys thrown together and told it can fly. The feeling thrumming beneath Keith's skin is much harder to control. It's volatile, it's wild, and it reminds him of the forest behind his house.
There was only one person in the world who could understand this feeling, and he doesn't know where she's gone. He sits in his room and quietly eats his meals, leaning against the cool surface of the wall and blinking at the artificial light draining in through the window.
The pilot facility on Earth is a big metal box. The pilot facility in space is a big metal box. Even when Keith makes the transition to space - when, not if, because the commander has been throwing him looks - he'll never get to see nature again.
He presses back against the metal wall and stares at his bunk bed. Will he miss the cursed forest?
Will the cursed forest miss him?
A small smile slips onto his face and he presses his sleeve against it. Will the cursed forest miss him? What a question.
It probably misses his mother the most.
-=-
They call it the cursed forest, but as of recently it's become even stranger. It's taken over a house, they say, a house right in the middle of the street. It vines drape along the windows, flowers blossoming on the roof and along the door, and thorns creeping all over the walls. The house looks like it's been possessed by a malevolent plant spirit.
Someone tried to rob the house once, they say. The strange house that all of a sudden, had no inhabitants. The old woman down the road said that there used to be a woman and a boy living there, mother and son, but no one can corroborate that story.
The person who tried to rob the house, well, it's a warning to adrenaline high youths to never steal, and a warning to troublesome children to not poke their noses where it's not wanted.
Sometimes at night, they can hear sounds coming from the forest that has shifted into the house, branches and stems trailing out and back into the dark forest; they vary from night to night, sometimes they're long creaking noises, sometimes they're the shattering of glass - though the house looks intact every morning - sometimes they're just unrecognizable.
Sometimes, people swear they can hear the sound of footsteps on wooden floor, a woman speaking in Chinese, and a boy's high laughter.
-=-
He's sixteen when he goes to space. Sixteen, the big one-six, the sweet sixteen, the day Keith meets Shiro.
He meets Shiro on the flight there, when Shiro is twenty and broad shouldered and kind. He's another talent, the commander says proudly when he introduces his finest cadets to each other. Shiro has gone on many missions to investigate life on other planets and moons, and the commander is certain that Keith will follow in his footsteps.
Keith shakes Shiro's hand. It's warm, large, and he's fairly sure that if Shiro wanted to, he could break Keith's hand.
Shiro takes Keith on a tour of the metal box in space, and shows him to the pilot simulation room. He's a nice person, and when Keith scuffs his foot against the floor and asks if he can try it out, Shiro smiles and sets it up for him.
Keith clears the first few levels easily, and there's a throbbing in his system when Shiro amps it up by around ten levels. He warns Keith, of course - Shiro doesn't seem like the type to just throw something at you and laugh when you fail, or not warn you. Keith takes it as it comes.
The machinery warms up to him, heating up below his palms, and Keith pats it, reminding it not to overheat and crash. It happened once.
The air around him shimmers, and Keith swallows tightly, sweat collecting in his palms.
Not now, he thinks pleadingly, begging for it to refrain from exploding here.
The air stills.
-=-
When Keith exits the simulation, Shiro greets him with a bright smile and is full of praise for the good work that he's done.
Keith flushes and smiles awkwardly back. He doesn't value praise often. The commander is, well, the commander. His praise is hard-earned, but it doesn't really mean anything to Keith, not when he's fully aware he does well.
But Shiro looks so pleased, and Keith can't help but feel pleased too.
-=-
There is magic in his blood. It comes from his mother's side, because that's where all legends start. It's always the females. It's always the mothers. It's always the female stereotype of blaming the women for curses.
There is truth in every legend.
But there is no magic in him, not the way his mother said. He is in magic.
Magic owns him.
-=-
Sometimes, he goes to the hangar where all the prepped fighter planes are, and all the research department equipment are, and he watches as the teams get ready to go and explore space.
The hangar is off limits, but when Shiro spots him, the taller man just smiles and presses a finger to his lips. He'll keep Keith's secret.
Keith stuffs his fists deeper into his pockets and sneaks around to stand near Shiro, reaching out to pat the fighter plane. It croons beneath his touch, and Keith's lips turn upwards. The fighter plane is in pretty good condition, considering how the plane in the simulation room is battered beyond belief.
"What are you doing here?" Keith asks quietly, looking up. Shiro has a half smile on his face, body turned such that other researchers can't see Keith quite so clearly.
"I'm going to be cleared for a mission pretty soon," Shiro confides, smile growing bigger. "I'll be flying the plane for one of the research teams."
"Have you ever flown a plane of this make?" Keith says, tapping the brand label. It's different from the ones on Earth. Actually, on Earth, this model is said to come out only three months later. Clearly, the pilots in space have much better technology and machinery. Clearly, Keith made the right choice coming to space. Now that he knows these planes actually exist, and he can touch them, he's probably not going to settle for the ones back on Earth.
Shiro shrugs, placing a hand on the plane. "Not yet, but I've looked in it and the controls are pretty similar. It's just a lot faster. And I'll be entering a simulation for it soon to prep." His eyes light up, and he beams at Keith. "Wanna give it a go too?"
Keith's throat closes up. "Yes," he chokes out, eyes wide.
His fingers are trembling and he's certain he's red.
-=-
In the bunk, his magic is volatile beyond belief, and his pillow ends up wrecked, the down inside flying all over the place as Keith curls up in a corner, blanket wrapped around himself. He's redder than his jacket and his eyes are screwed shut, fingers shaking as he grips the blanket like he would as a child.
Until he dies, the child will not know love.
There's something caught in his throat, something in his eye, and Keith wonders, for the first time in four years, where his mother is.
-=-
Somehow, Keith and Shiro are sent back to Earth. Something about teaching the new cadets how to be proper pilots. Being the seniors.
There's a boy who's way too loud, grating on Keith's nerves, but he laughs like he doesn't have a care in the world.
The boy's name is Lance.
Keith makes note of that.
-=-
The boy can't fly at all.
-=-
On the day before Keith's nineteenth birthday, Shiro is deployed on a mission to Kerberos. A scientific breakthrough, the news reported. It could revolutionize the way we view and explore space.
Keith knows Kerberos. It's unexplored. Unexplored missions are always the most dangerous. There's no certainty of the research team coming back.
Shiro is terribly excited for the event, and Keith watches quietly as Shiro explains about the mission and how it'll definitely be something to remember, this is big! Keith tries, but his lips refuse to cooperate with his brain.
"Keith?" Shiro asks, twenty-three and broad shouldered, the only friend Keith has ever had.
"When will you come back?" Keith says, locking eyes with Shiro. Shiro's eyes are very, very brown.
Shiro looks contemplative. "In a year, perhaps. The journey takes around that long."
A year. Keith looks at the ground. His mother has taken eight years. She's still not back.
"That's long."
His blood sings in his veins, and Keith can't help but reach out to grip Shiro. His pulse quickens, roaring in his ears like waves crashing against shore and something dark colored slips onto Shiro's skin, skittering under his clothes.
"Keith?" Shiro says, eyes warm and soft. "I'll come back soon. It'll pass in a flash. All the new cadets will worship you and your impressive pilot skills, you won't notice that I'm gone."
Keith shrugs, releasing Shiro and taking a step back. He can feel it throbbing, the fluttering mark left on Shiro's body, and it thuds like Shiro's heartbeat.
He can feel paw prints pattering along his abdomen, coming to a standstill at his hip bone. There's a pinprick, like claws gently dragging along his skin, and he feels fur. He feels settling.
"Good luck," Keith says, hoping that he comes off as warm, instead of awkward. "Go fast and return soon."
Shiro smiles and it feels like Keith is staring at the sun. "I will."
-=-
In the mirror, Keith lifts the bottom of his shirt up and stares at the black cat sleeping on his hipbone. He prods at it, and the cat rises, scowling as it flicks its tail and pretends to claw Keith's finger.
The black cat pulses in time to Shiro's heartbeat.
Keith stares at himself in the mirror, and presses a hand over the cat. The cat purrs, and presses back against his hand.
-=-
The day after the news of the Keberos crash, Keith explodes the training simulation.
His hands are shaking, his eyes are bloodshot, and he looks like he's been hanging out with thugs. He's black and blue all over. The training simulation is in tatters, a wing barely attached to the plane and the controls are all out of whack. They're smoking, wisps of smoke drifting up into the air and there's sparks flickering.
The commander looks at him and sends him to his bunk.
Keith goes. It feels like he's five all over again, when the forest is pushing him to his mother. Except now, there's no forest. There's no mother.
妈妈得走了。His breath is shaky.
那 Shiro 呢？He feels like asking that, asking his mother to explain. Shiro 为什么得走？
It feels like he can hear his mother's voice, lilting and charming, and he can smell the familiar ash and incense scent again.
傻孩子，his mother says. 谁说 Shiro 走了？
Keith inhales, long and desperate and he lets the air fill his lungs.
That's right, he thinks, grasping at straws. He places his hand over the cat, and it's weakened - severely weakened, for reasons Keith doesn't want to think about - but it responds, licking at Keith's fingers and nudging at his palm.
Shiro hasn't left. His heartbeat is still alive.
Keith breathes again.
-=-
It comes as no surprise whatsoever that Keith is kicked out of the space programme. Without Shiro, he can't find another reason to do his best. Or even try, at all. The machinery responds to him without fail, but there's nothing pumping through his veins, no satisfaction at the end of doing a good job, and Keith's flying becomes sloppy.
The day he leaves the pilot facility - escorted out, the commander says, but really he's just given a three hour notice to clear out -, he steals a hovercraft - red, like his jacket - and hurries off with it, magic dusting his tracks to prevent the commander from finding him.
He finds a hut - old, abandoned, dilapidated - and he thinks, yes.
This is where he'll stay for now.
There isn't a forest, there isn't the drifting scent of his mother, but Keith pats the worn book hidden in his jacket and smiles.
It resonates. It feels like home.