Universe Falls Brainrot is Back I guess

Stepper at every given moment

Um it isn’t

Bill: You think that just because you have one more twerp in there you are powerful enough to beat me? Pathetic!

Mystery: Well… let’s see about that. *Summons the Shield Journal, Grappling Shield, regular shield, Connie’s sword, Stevifica’s hand fan and proceeds to beat up Bill’s ass*

Axolotl: Okay, since that’s very cool, I will let you guys free the hissy cat inside Dipper’s mind and give him his own body.

Aaron: This was… beautiful *starts to cry*

Allison: What’s going on?! *Randomly gets hit by a meteor*

And then everyone was happy until Steven got depressed. The end.

Got commissioned to write some Keys stuff so you know I had to! This one is specifically sort of a mini Keys prequel of sorts, all about Sora's dad Tsuki noticing how his son is just a little... different. :3 I had a lot of fun working on it, I love writing baby Sora and also Tsuki and Himari back before this tiny little family was so cruelly torn apart. Enjoy!

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There are times, so many times, when Tsuki wishes his mother were still alive, that his father had actually been a father. That he had someone to teach him how to be a proper parent long before he actually became one. Maybe if he had, he’d feel a little more steady. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t feel like he’s making one mistake after the other. 

But even then, he’s not so sure anyone could have prepared him to bring up a son as… special as Sora. 

At only four, Sora’s heart is as big and bright as the sky he was named for. He’s curious, cheerful, compassionate–all qualities Tsuki is sure he gets from Himari instead of him. And he’s just fine with that, content to let his sun and his sky fill his life with the kind of love and light he’s always longed for. 

But there are some days when that sky doesn’t shine as brightly as it should. 

Tsuki doesn’t think much of it at first. It must be a coincidence when it starts to rain just as Sora runs home, crying from a scraped knee. It must be a coincidence when a thunderstorm starts one night, only after Sora climbs into bed with his parents after a particularly scary nightmare. 

It must be a coincidence that the night sky, the moon especially, always seems just a little bit brighter whenever Sora is staring up at it. 

It only stops being a coincidence when Tsuki finally realizes he’s been keeping count. He finds himself paying closer attention to his son’s mood and whatever weather might come along with it. He isn’t really sure what theory he’s even trying to prove, or what will happen if that theory is proven right. But he does pay closer attention than usual when he comes home from work one crisp fall evening without a single cloud in the sky. He pays closer attention than usual when Sora comes rushing downstairs, tears in his eyes and a broken toy in his hands. And he pays closer attention than usual when he looks outside and sees a steady shower soaking the shore, with rain that almost seems to fall in perfect time with his son’s tears. 

“That’s so strange, isn’t it?” he asks Himari as they get ready for bed that night. Or rather, as Himari climbs into bed to watch her husband restlessly pace in front of it. “It’s not the first time I’ve noticed it either. It’s like the weather just… follows his mood sometimes. When he’s happy, the sun’s as bright as it can be, when he’s sad, it rains, when he’s angry or afraid, it storms. I have no idea what to think of it.”

“I know what I think,” Himari offers him a playful grin. “I think you’ve completely lost it.”

“I’m serious, Mari!” Tsuki protests. “It happens way too often for it to just be a coincidence. There’s gotta be some sort of connection here–I just… don’t know what.”

Himari can’t help but let out a small, good-natured laugh as she rises out of bed to pause his pacing. “There is no connection here, Ki,” she assures, taking his hands in hers. “Sora isn’t secretly controlling the weather with his emotions. He’s a perfectly normal kid.”

“Perfectly normal…” Tsuki echoes, wanting to believe that. And yet…  

He only continues to see so much evidence that he isn’t. 

To his credit, Tsuki tries to put his suspicions about the weather aside. He doesn’t want to trouble his wife with it any further, doesn’t know how to even begin asking Sora. So he lets it go for the time being. At least until something just as strange happens only a few weeks later. 

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Tsuki is just about finished fixing the mailbox when he hears his son’s cry ring through the air. He glances up to see Sora running from around the far side of the house where he’d been playing. A deeply worried look fills his face as he carries something carefully in his hands. 

“Hey there, kiddo,” Tsuki offers him a smile all the same. “What’s got you so worked up? And what do you have there?”

Sora doesn’t hesitate to open his hands up to show him. A very small bird rests in his palms, one of its wings awkwardly bent as it feebly chirps in pain. “I found him in the bushes ‘round back,” Sora devoutly reports. “He’s hurt real bad. Can we help him, Daddy? Please?”

“Oh no…” Tsuki kneels down to get a better look at the bird. There’s no way to know what happened to it, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. With its wing broken that badly, it won’t be flying anytime soon. And if it can’t fly… there isn’t much of a chance that it’ll survive on its own. Not that he dares to tell his expectant, innocent son that. 

“Well,” he says instead. “We sure can try to help it. But it’s gonna be a lot of work to get this little fella back on his wings again. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

Sora nods as if he’s answering the most important question in the entire world. “Anything to help Mr. Bird feel better!” 

Tsuki lets Sora lead the way inside so they can convene with Himari on what to do next. Between the three of them, they get the poor bird set up in a fairly comfortable shoebox, complete with plenty of water and birdseed and even a makeshift splint for its wing. Sora insists upon the bird staying in his room for the night, something Tsuki and Himari allow as long as he promises not to bother it while it's trying to rest. A promise Tsuki catches Sora breaking almost immediately. 

He heads upstairs to tuck Sora in for the night, only to find Sora in the middle of already doing just that for the bird. He hovers over it, a soft smile on his face as he sings his favorite lullaby as best he can–as fractured and out of tune as it might be. And even stranger yet, the bird looks like it's intently listening to every last word of it. 

“The sun, moon, n’ stars are why-”

“We like lookin’ at the sky-”

“Look up there and you’ll see-”

“A long, long chain of–um… oh, right! Memory-”

“Sora, what are you doing?” Tsuki finally speaks up from his spot in the doorframe. 

“Singing Mr. Bird to sleep!” Sora exclaims, as if it's obvious. “The lull’by always makes me feel better when I’m feeling sad, so it’ll make him feel better too!”

“I like the idea, but I think it’s gonna take a little more than a song to get, uh, ‘Mr. Bird’ feeling his best again,” Tsuki grins as he steps in to properly usher Sora to bed. “I know you want to help him, but you’ve gotta be patient, ok, kiddo? Like I said, it’s gonna take some time for him to heal up all the way.”

“Aw, but I want him to be all better now!” Sora pouts. 

“And as long as you take good care of him, then he will in no time,” Tsuki assures as he tucks him in. He sings their lullaby, just as he does every night, and Sora loudly sings along–more for the bird’s sake than his own. Tsuki can’t help but glance over at the bird, noticing that its sights are strangely set solely on Sora alone. And on Sora they stay, even as Tsuki switches the lights off and heads out to let his son sleep. 

“Huh,” he muses to himself as he shuts the door behind him. “Strange little fella…”

Whether he’s talking about the bird or his own son, Tsuki himself isn’t even sure .

A sudden shriek starkly wakes Tsuki and Himari the next morning. In an instant, they’re up and rushing down the hall to their son’s room, terrified by what they might find. And yet… what they do find is just about the last thing they could have ever expected. 

Sora is indeed squealing, but out of joy instead of fear or pain. He laughs, clapping his hands in delight as he chases the bird around his bedroom. The bird who is somehow flying as if its wing had never been hurt at all. 

“Mommy! Daddy! Look!” Sora points up at his new friend, beaming. “Mr. Bird is all better!”

“Already?” Himari asks, bewildered.

“B-but it’s only been one night,” Tsuki frowns as he steps into the room. He tries wrangling the bird down to his level to make sure, but it’s far too quick for him to catch. If that isn’t a sign that it’s made a full recovery, he doesn’t know what is. 

“It’s just like you said, Daddy!” Sora pipes up. “I took suuuuuper good care of him and it made him better in no time!”

“W-well, yeah, but I didn’t think it’d be this fast…” Tsuki mutters, exchanging a confused glance with his wife. 

Still, Himari can only shrug as she shares her son’s smile. “I guess we have a real miracle on our hands here.”

“What’s a miracle?” Sora tilts his head, curious. 

“Something very special that can’t really be explained,” Himari leans down to his level, playfully tapping him on the nose. “Sort of like you, my little sky.”

“A miracle…” Tsuki echoes in a whisper. His gaze is set solely on his son the same way the bird’s is as it comes to land on his outstretched hand, perfectly content to be as close to him as possible. 

“Now that Mr. Bird is all better,” Himari heads over to the window. “It's time to let him go so he can go back to his family. I don’t think he’d be very happy staying cooped up in here all the time.”

“Aw… Ok,” Sora heaves a sad sigh as he joins his mother at the window. “Goodbye, Mr. Bird!” He still smiles as the bird takes flight to the clear morning skies. “I’m so glad I got to help you!” 

While Sora and Himari continue bidding their “guest” a fond farewell, Tsuki can only continue staring at his son, so filled with care and compassion for even the tiniest, frailest creatures of all. His son, so eager to help anyone he can however he can. His son, who somehow healed a bird's broken wing in mere hours alone. 

His son… who might just be a miracle unlike any ever seen before. 

Himari simply shrugs it off, chalking it up to the bird not being as badly hurt as they first thought. But Tsuki can’t help but think there’s more to it than that. Much more. He isn’t really sure who else to go to. The last thing he wants is Himari thinking he’s crazy, even if that’s how he’s been feeling lately. Himari’s parents would probably think the same thing if he told them. His own father, so mysterious and so well-traveled, might somehow know something… but Tsuki puts the thought out of his head as soon as it enters it. He doesn’t know where his father is these days, hasn’t seen him in years and doesn’t care to either. And he certainly doesn’t want Sora anywhere near him either.

So instead, Tsuki decides to get an outsider’s perspective. A few days later, he takes Sora a few doors down to spend the afternoon playing with Riku. And as he and Riku’s father sit on the porch to watch their boys chase each other around, Tsuki happens to bring the subject up. 

“And it was perfectly healed!” Tsuki finishes telling the story, still beside himself by how impossible it seems. “That sort of thing doesn’t just happen, Daichi! I know Sora had something to do with it, I just… don’t know what.”

Daichi eyes him curiously, the same way Himari did when he brought up his concerns about the weather. Tsuki can’t really blame him for it either; he knows just how out there it all must sound. If anything, he’s lucky his friend hasn’t broken down laughing in his face. 

“Tsuki,” Daichi offers him a knowing smirk. “Do you really think your boy is some sort of magical miracle child?”

“I… I don’t–I mean… maybe?” Tsuki shrugs, confounded. “I just can’t shake the feeling that something is… different about him… Something special.”

“Everyone thinks that about their own kid,” Daichi chuckles. “Trust me; Hana and I feel the same way about Riku. Everybody wants to think their little one is the brightest star in the sky. But at the end of the day, they’re just kids. Special as can be in our eyes, sure, but… in the grand scheme of things? Usually not so much…”

Tsuki can only frown, unsure of what to say to that as he watches the boys play out in the yard. It’s true; he’s always thought Sora was so very special, from the very moment he first held him in his arms. It’s not an unusual feeling for any parent to have, just like Daichi said. And yet… what he’s noticed about Sora, what he’s seen and heard… it all goes beyond that. Far beyond. 

He’s so lost in thought that he almost doesn’t catch the moment the laughter flowing freely between Sora and Riku suddenly starts to shift into something else entirely. “No!” Sora shouts, throwing his wooden sword down onto the ground. “I don’t wanna!” 

“Sora-” Riku tries to reason, but Sora isn’t having it. 

“I said no!” Sora lashes out, outright shoving Riku straight to the ground. “I don’t want to be the king!” 

“Hey!” Tsuki shoots to his feet. Daichi is right behind him, hurrying to help Riku back up. To his credit, Riku doesn’t cry; if anything, he can only stare at Sora, utterly shocked that he actually pushed him in the first place. Tsuki feels much of the same way. “Sora, why’d you do that?” he kneels down to his son’s level. Sora scowls away from him, his face red as tears streak down it. “You know better than to push anyone, especially not Riku. He’s your best friend-”

“He wanted to force me to be the king!” Sora stomps his foot down. “We were playing knights and he said I had to be the king, but I don’t want to be!” 

“Well, why not?” Tsuki asks, puzzled. “Being a king isn’t so bad–”

“Yes, it IS!” Sora practically screams. Try as he might, Tsuki can’t ever remember seeing his son so mad, so furious. “Being king is the worst! It’s the most boringest thing ever! You can’t go anywhere or talk to anybody–all you ever do is sit around doing nothing! I HATE IT!” 

Sora looks like he’s nearly on the verge of pouncing on Riku all over again before Tsuki quickly scoops him up. Sora flails against him, still screaming and crying and Tsuki can’t even begin to understand why. This hardly seems like the kind of disagreement that warrants such an intense reaction. A glance back at Daichi and Riku shows that they’re every bit as bewildered as he is by it all. 

“Um, I think I’d better take him home for the night,” Tsuki tells them over Sora’s bitter sobs. 

Daichi only nods a solemn farewell, hardly angry over Sora’s unexpected outburst. But Riku speaks up, worry all over his face as he says, “I-I’m sorry, Sora.” 

Sora doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look Riku’s way. Instead, he buries his face into his father’s shoulder and keeps on crying all the way home. 

Normally, Tsuki would hand him off to Himari. She’s usually better at weathering whatever storms their son might face far better than he ever could. But something about what just happened has Tsuki wanting to handle this all on his own. For better or worse. 

So instead of taking Sora inside, he carries him out to the beach behind their house. By now, the sun has set as the stars and moon show up to take its place. Sora’s still crying when Tsuki gently sets him down into the sand. He pulls his knees to his chest, sobs shaking his shoulders, even as Tsuki takes a seat next to him and pulls him into a loose embrace. 

“What’s really the matter here, kiddo?” he asks softly, carefully. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know you can.”

“I already told you,” Sora spits between gritted teeth. “I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. King.” 

“You don’t have to be,” Tsuki shakes his head. “It’s over now. Riku even said he was sorry for trying to force you. So why are you still so upset?” 

Sora is quiet for a long time. Tears are still in his eyes as he stares up at the night sky before he quietly, mournfully admits. “I don’t know…”

Tsuki tries to think about how Himari would handle this, what kind of questions she would ask if she were sitting here instead. Even though her help is just a few steps away, he still wants to get to the bottom of this–to help his son feel better–all on his own. “Can you tell me a little more about how you're feeling right now, Sora? I want to understand–t-to help you, if I can.”

Sora sniffles, though he doesn’t stop crying. If anything, his tears only seem to flow even more under the pale glow of the full moon above. “I… I think somehin’s wrong with me, Daddy…” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“W-what do you mean?” Tsuki asks, already unnerved. 

“I just… keep feeling so… sad all the time…” Sora leans a little closer into his embrace. “Like something’s missing… Or like I’m missing someone… It hurts, like, um… right here,” he taps his chest, his heart. “It hurt bad when Riku said I had to be the king. But it hurts the worst any time I look at the moon.”

“The moon?” Tsuki follows his gaze up to it. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about it as it hangs high in the heavens, painting the shore in its gentle light. Tsuki was named for it, he’s always found comfort in it, always loved it. But his son somehow looks up at it, and feels nothing but pain instead. 

“T-then don’t look at it anymore,” Tsuki pulls him in to shield him from whatever might be causing him harm. And yet, Sora wiggles out of his hold, stumbling to his feet as he sets his sight on the moon, on the very source of his anguish, all over again. 

“B-but I want to…” he insists, taking a step closer to the sea, to the sky. “W-whoever I’m missing… they’re up there! I know they are!” 

“Sora, that… doesn’t make any sense,” Tsuki comes to stand by his side. “No one’s up there. It’s just the moon. That’s all there is.” 

“No, it’s not!” Sora protests, devout and distressed. “Somebody’s up there! I can hear them! They’ve talked to me!”

“The moon… talked to you?” Tsuki raises an eyebrow. Only now does he start to suspect what might be going on here. Sora’s yet to have an imaginary friend–it was only a matter of time before he made one up. Still, finding an imaginary friend in the moon of all things is… unexpected, to say the least.  

“You don’t believe me,” Sora frowns, kicking at the sand at his feet. “Riku didn’t believe me either…”

“No, no! I believe you, kiddo,” Tsuki lightly ruffles his hair. “So, what does, um… the moon tell you when it talks to you?”

“All sorts of stuff,” Sora shifts his gaze back up to it. “I tell ‘em that I miss them, and they say they miss me too. And then, um… sometimes it talks about a door? And a key? I don’t really get a lot of what it tells me… b-but I love it! I really do!” 

“You love the moon?”

Sora shakes his head, deeply serious when he says, “It’s not the moon.” 

“Ooooh, ok,” Tsuki pretends to understand. “So if it isn’t the moon, then who is it?”

For what feels like ages, Sora has no real answer. He loosely clutches his shirt over his heart, his eyes still wet with tears as he stares up at the moon. Or perhaps, at something else entirely. “...A friend,” he finally settles, finally smiling. “A friend I hope I get to see again soon.”

“I hope you do too,” Tsuki shares his son’s smile, opening his arms up him. Sora bounds into his embrace, letting out a tired yawn as he lets his father carry him back towards the house. And as he does, Tsuki thinks little of the weather, of the bird, of kings or even of the moon. Instead, he thinks only of his son, his bright, beautiful, special little sky. He thinks of Sora, and how he still doesn’t understand him in the slightest. But maybe he doesn’t really need to. Maybe just being there for him is enough. 

So Tsuki thinks of Sora as he carries him inside. And as he does, he doesn’t see Sora’s eyes, empty voids of black and white, still focused on the moon–and only on the moon.