a different kind of fairy tale! tengu are kinda like bird demons, and yes, there is also side kiyoyachi in this haha
--
“Please help me,” the young prince Daichi says. “I need to save the princess again.”
The tengu tilts his head in contemplation, shuffles a bit on the tall wooden platform soles of his geta shoes; he’s vested in long dark robes, almost as dark as the glossy black of the crow wings where his arms should be, but his hair shines like ash and silver in the moonlight. There’s a beauty mark that sits high up on the tengu’s cheek, and every time he smiles, it makes Daichi wonder about what the worth of a kingdom truly is, to him. Maybe it’s worth only the things Daichi has found in these green mountains where the wind never stops blowing.
“Are you so sure she needs to be rescued?” There is mirth in the tengu’s voice; an echo like the mischief of a murder of crows.
This is the third time the young prince has come to visit the tengu in his home high up on the peak, and this is the third favour he asks of him. There is a particular certainty in this number, and the tengu is starting to see the pattern as surely as the western wind that carries him home. He grins as he waits for Daichi to piece it together himself; the tengu has come to appreciate the undercurrent of his cunning, a cleverness that moves with the surety of the earth.
“Um,” Daichi says. Maybe not that cunning. The tengu resists the urge to laugh, but when he lets slip a smile behind his feathers anyway, Daichi can see the flash of teeth, and they are white and sharp and dangerous, and Daichi wonders again about the worth of a kingdom when all he wants to do is stay here in the shadow of green trees and watch the moonlight draw pale lines across crow feathers in the dark.
“Your golden princess was kidnapped by a moving shadow the first time, and she was kidnapped by a winged demon the second,” the tengu recounts as the wind seems to laugh; it ruffles his silver hair, and Daichi thinks about how soft it would feel under his fingers. “And she was carried off by a bird of prey this third time.” He looks up into the tangle of dark branches that arch above him, and Daichi follows the movement of his eyes until he sees a golden sparrow perched there under the wing of a black crow. They’re sleeping peacefully, and something about the tufted crown of yellow feathers that adorn the sparrow is familiar, and so too are the markings around the eyes of the crow.
“Oh,” Daichi says. He feels a little foolish.
The tengu slaps him across the back in merriment; it’s not gentle, and Daichi trips a little over his own feet. “Problem solved! But I guess, as with all stories, you still have a third favour you can ask of me.”
Daichi flushes pink to the tip of his ears. “Would you like to come with m--”
“Thought you would never ask. You can call me Suga.”
“But I--”
“You can call me Suga, and I like spicy foods, and yes, my wings can turn into arms. Any other questions?” The tengu is grinning again, and Daichi watches the white of his teeth flash in the dark.
“Are your feathers--”
This time, Suga kisses him, and when his sharp little teeth nip at Daichi’s bottom lip, and his wing feathers brush soft against Daichi’s cheek, he thinks that he can definitely get used to following the whims of the western wind.
FILL: TEAM IMAIZUMI SHUNSUKE/NARUKO SHOUKICHI, G
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a different kind of fairy tale! tengu are kinda like bird demons, and yes, there is also side kiyoyachi in this haha
--
“Please help me,” the young prince Daichi says. “I need to save the princess again.”
The tengu tilts his head in contemplation, shuffles a bit on the tall wooden platform soles of his geta shoes; he’s vested in long dark robes, almost as dark as the glossy black of the crow wings where his arms should be, but his hair shines like ash and silver in the moonlight. There’s a beauty mark that sits high up on the tengu’s cheek, and every time he smiles, it makes Daichi wonder about what the worth of a kingdom truly is, to him. Maybe it’s worth only the things Daichi has found in these green mountains where the wind never stops blowing.
“Are you so sure she needs to be rescued?” There is mirth in the tengu’s voice; an echo like the mischief of a murder of crows.
This is the third time the young prince has come to visit the tengu in his home high up on the peak, and this is the third favour he asks of him. There is a particular certainty in this number, and the tengu is starting to see the pattern as surely as the western wind that carries him home. He grins as he waits for Daichi to piece it together himself; the tengu has come to appreciate the undercurrent of his cunning, a cleverness that moves with the surety of the earth.
“Um,” Daichi says. Maybe not that cunning. The tengu resists the urge to laugh, but when he lets slip a smile behind his feathers anyway, Daichi can see the flash of teeth, and they are white and sharp and dangerous, and Daichi wonders again about the worth of a kingdom when all he wants to do is stay here in the shadow of green trees and watch the moonlight draw pale lines across crow feathers in the dark.
“Your golden princess was kidnapped by a moving shadow the first time, and she was kidnapped by a winged demon the second,” the tengu recounts as the wind seems to laugh; it ruffles his silver hair, and Daichi thinks about how soft it would feel under his fingers. “And she was carried off by a bird of prey this third time.” He looks up into the tangle of dark branches that arch above him, and Daichi follows the movement of his eyes until he sees a golden sparrow perched there under the wing of a black crow. They’re sleeping peacefully, and something about the tufted crown of yellow feathers that adorn the sparrow is familiar, and so too are the markings around the eyes of the crow.
“Oh,” Daichi says. He feels a little foolish.
The tengu slaps him across the back in merriment; it’s not gentle, and Daichi trips a little over his own feet. “Problem solved! But I guess, as with all stories, you still have a third favour you can ask of me.”
Daichi flushes pink to the tip of his ears. “Would you like to come with m--”
“Thought you would never ask. You can call me Suga.”
“But I--”
“You can call me Suga, and I like spicy foods, and yes, my wings can turn into arms. Any other questions?” The tengu is grinning again, and Daichi watches the white of his teeth flash in the dark.
“Are your feathers--”
This time, Suga kisses him, and when his sharp little teeth nip at Daichi’s bottom lip, and his wing feathers brush soft against Daichi’s cheek, he thinks that he can definitely get used to following the whims of the western wind.