Chapter Text
The light filtering through Kirby's window was pale and gray when he finally stirred.
Kirby slowly opened his eyes, his eyelids heavy as he blinked a few times to adjust to the light. A dull pressure behind his eyes made itself known as he slowly turned his body to lay on his back. His wings protested at the movement, stiff and sore, but he chose to ignore it. He laid still for a while, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the quiet hum in his ears. It was quiet outside, no birdsong or gusts of wind could be heard.
How long had he been awake again?
Kirby eventually rolled onto his side, the movement taking more effort than expected. The urge to go back to sleep again gnawed at him, not at all pleasant compared to the wistful lull it used to be.
Kirby's eyes drifted shut again for a moment and he felt himself begin to doze off before he forced them back open again. With a low growl of effort, Kirby pushed himself upright, letting his blankets fall to his feet. He groaned when the room spun with the movement, putting a paw to his forehead to steady himself. He attempted to take a deeper breath, but he felt his chest tighten before he could, forcing him to exhale again with a small wheeze.
He felt… wrong. The feeling compared to being constricted on the inside; not hard enough to cause pain, but enough that made things that used to come naturally such as breathing and eating come with a discomfort just noticeable enough to impede him.
How many days had he felt like this?
Kirby frowned, trying to remember. The constant cover of clouds had delayed the cherry blossoms from blooming, and so the festival had been held back as well. In turn, the perpetual unchanged weather seemed to make the days blur together and become impossible to decipher.
Kirby felt his wings twitch, tugging uncomfortably behind him as he shifted to sit at the edge of the bed. They felt abnormally heavy today. Everything did. With it taking more effort than he wanted to admit, Kirby managed to hop off his bed.
The floor was cold against Kirby’s feet, making him shudder and stand in place for a few moments. Before he could talk himself out of getting out of bed again he forced himself to walk forward.
Did I eat yesterday?
The thought made him pause. He wasn't even sure if he had eaten since yesterday. Or was it the day before? Normally he was always hungry and willing to eat, but his appetite had been diminishing for weeks now. He knew he should eat; Fumu always insisted on it, especially since he was growing.
Fumu isn't here right now. She never is.
Kirby's gaze dropped to the floor and he shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought from the tangled mess that was his head. No point in thinking about that right now.
As Kirby took another couple steps around his home, he noticed that he stepped on a feather. Blinking, he stepped back and reached a paw to pick the feather up. It was bent at an odd angle and torn at the quill.
Then he noticed more feathers on the floor. Some were clean and even, naturally shed, but there were several others…
Kirby's breath quickened, and he began to briskly scoop up the broken feathers off the floor. He didn't remember losing that many. After he picked up all the feathers off the floor he tossed them in a nearby trash can.
With a sigh of relief, Kirby straightened up and glanced at himself in the mirror. His wings were tightly drawn against his back… and that's when he noticed that the feathers were uneven. There were odd gaps where he swore feathers were before… his left wing looked noticeably worse than the other.
It's okay, Kirby forced himself to look away. The words didn't feel reassuring in his head, but they were familiar. Familiar was a good thing, right? I'm okay.
His home suddenly felt too small and still. He looked towards the cabinets where he kept his food, then turned away. The thought of food made his stomach twist unpleasantly. He didn't want to deal with that either.
I should go outside. Maybe some fresh air would help clear his head. He glanced out the window, seeing the same dull gray clouds blanket the sky that had been there yesterday, the day before…
It was better than inside, at least.
Mind made up, Kirby made his way to the door and opened it, stepping outside. The grass was tough and poked at his feet, but he chose to ignore it as he shut the door behind him. A cool breeze ruffled his feathers and he shivered.
For a moment, Kirby wasn't sure where he wanted to go today. He didn't want to go into town to socialize, he didn't want to go to Castle Dedede just to be met with disappointment that Fumu was too busy… Galacta was gone, as well. He had decided to comb the surrounding countryside for Dark Matter, or something. Kirby hadn't been paying much attention when he told him he was leaving. People leaving wasn't anything new.
Then the thought snagged him. He hadn't checked on his Warpstar for a while. It was in its usual place, tucked within Kabu in the canyon a ways away. A nice walk to Kabu sounded nice, or at least better than helping Kawasaki clean dishes again.
The path to Kabu was a familiar one, an ancient rocky trail through the dense forest. Kirby followed the path, his mind quiet for the first time in what seemed like forever.
Almost too quiet.
That was when he realized how quiet everyhing was. Usually Kirby would hear birds; whether it be their varying songs or their wings fluttering high above the canopy, but today it was oddly silent. The only sounds were the occasional breeze rustling the trees and Kirby's feet brushing against dirt as he walked, his footsteps almost echoing in the otherwise eerily silent forest.
Are the animals hiding from the cold?
It was colder than Kirby was used to, so he assumed the animals hid because of it. Clouds had been blocking the sun for nearly a week now, leaving the air damp and sharp against Kirby’s skin. Another breeze slipped under his wings, making him shiver and tuck them closer to himself. The smell of rain was growing increasingly potent, and Kirby questioned whether he should turn back or not.
The further he went through the forest, the heavier his steps became. The trek to Kabu had never tired him out like this before. Kirby stopped to catch his breath, though he told himself it was to look up at the unchanging clouds… again. After a moment, he forced himself to continue.
The first drops of rain were easy to miss, but Kirby flinched when a cold drop landed on the top of his head. He looked up to see a light drizzle begin descending into the forest, filling the air with the sound of drops pattering on leaves and dirt. With the cold already seeping into Kirby's skin, he shuddered and tucked his wings in even further as he sped up his pace.
Kabu came into view as the land sharply dipped, sheer rocky cliffs surrounding the ancient stone sage. The massive figure stood tall and still as stone, half shrouded in moss and shadows.
Kirby, with his paws over his head in a futile attempt to shield his face from the rain, quickly clambered down the final stretch of the path towards Kabu. He slipped into the small carved entrance at the base, the stone overhang immediately relieving him from the cold rain. Panting, he took a moment to lift his wings and shake the excess water from them, grunting with effort as though the limbs were suddenly made of lead. With a shudder, Kirby sunk to the floor against the wall near the entrance, trying to catch his breath. It was still cool within Kabu's chambers, but he was protected from the wind and rain at least.
“H… hello, Kabu…” Kirby breathed, voice hoarse from exhaustion.
Kabu did not answer.
Kirby leaned against the wall, his eyes half lidded as he listened to the gentle sound of the rain hitting Kabu's walls. Deeper within the chamber he noticed a faint, steady glow, and the ache and tension he felt seemed to melt right then and there. He knew what was here, it always had been here. The tightness he felt inside of him seemed to finally loosen a little.
With newfound strength, Kirby managed to get up and walk towards the center of the chamber, where his Warpstar was resting. It gave off a steady, warm golden glow that bit back against the cold gnawing at his skin as he reached for it and picked it up. It remained in its shrunken state as Kirby held it close.
With a deep sigh of relief, Kirby curled up on the floor, his Warpstar warm in his paws. He let his still-damp wings drape over himself like a blanket as he settled on the stone floor.
I'll rest for just a moment, he told himself as his eyes gradually fluttered shut. For the first time in what felt like forever, the noise in his head dulled. There were no whispers or doubts or pressure. Only the warmth of his Warpstar and the pitter-patter of the steady rain. Sleep finally came, quiet and gentle.
Kirby awoke slowly. There was no jolt or lingering fragments of dreams, and the soothing smell of cherry blossoms that usually wafted in the air was instead the sharp smell of rain on stone. It was quiet and peaceful.
Kirby slowly opened his eyes, met with dark blue stone and soft shadows. The rain still gently tapped along Kabu's walls, though more faintly than before. It would likely stop soon. With a low groan Kirby slowly lifted himself up. His wings shifted at his sides, still heavy and sore… but the dread he usually felt when he focused on their presence did not come.
How long was I asleep?
Not long, he imagined, as the daylight still faintly illuminated the entrance of Kabu's chambers. But regardless, he felt better rested than he had in… a while.
“You slept without being watched.”
Kirby jumped at the deep rumbling of Kabu's voice, wings fluffing up as he nearly dropped his Warpstar. “Oh! U-uh, hello Kabu.” He stammered. “Um… sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep.”
“You didn't mean to,” Kabu replied, “but you needed to.”
Kirby didn't reply, looking down at his Warpstar as it glowed steadily in his paws. Maybe he had.
“This is a place for Star Warriors to rest.” Kabu continued, voice rumbling along the walls. “The places to rest are growing fewer.”
Growing fewer? Kirby wasn't sure if he should ask what Kabu meant. Something about the way the sage said it made the question feel insidious. He shifted where he sat, wings quivering against the cool stone floor. This place felt grounding in a way his home hadn't felt lately. The Warpstar's warm glow flickered in his paws, and Kirby chose to focus on that instead.
After a while Kirby swallowed nervously, holding the Warpstar closer to himself instinctively. “I… I don't feel right,” He admitted quietly. The words were small, much like how he felt. With how strange and terrible everything had become since he grew his wings, he didn't know how else to start the conversation. “I haven't in a while. I thought… maybe you'd know why.”
The stone sage was quiet for a few long moments, then the chamber seemed to breathe its response. “You are growing, and you are changing. Growth is sometimes mistaken for damage to those who experience it.”
Kirby furrowed his brow, his grip on the Warpstar tightening. “But… it doesn't feel right.” He repeated, unsure how else to explain. “Sometimes… I look at myself and don't recognize me.” He stared at his feet, eyes burning as tears unwillingly formed. “I-I don't know how to make it stop.”
The pause before Kabu spoke again seemed to last forever. “You are holding on to more than you were meant to alone.”
Kirby sagged at that, relief and despair tangling together in his mind. He wasn't meant to be alone, but… “Why does it feel like I have to?” His question came out a choked whisper. A tear escaped his eyes, dripping onto the Warpstar. “I… I'm scared of what will happen if I don't.”
Kabu didn't answer right away. The silence was not empty, as the sound of the rain outside had gradually faded into a soothing murmur. “You are afraid because you learned to endure above all else.”
Kirby felt his breath catch in his throat and he closed his eyes tightly. “I have to,” he insisted, though he wasn't sure if he believed his own words. “I don't want to be a burden.” He spoke quickly, as though the words would vanish before he could say them. “Everyone is counting on me. I… I'm supposed to be strong.” His voice cracked at the last word. “If I'm not, what am I…?”
The chamber seemed to rumble, as though Kabu were humming in thought. “Even stone fractures under enough pressure.” Kabu's voice reverberated along the walls. “The future does not turn to a single pair of hands, nor does it ask a child to hold the past.”
Child.
The word struck Kirby harder than expected. He drew in a trembling breath, doing nothing to stop the steady stream of tears that dribbled down his cheeks. “I-I... I don't feel like one,” he whispered. “I don't feel like anything I used to be.”
“There are many paths laid out before you,” Kabu's voice lowered, deepened with what Kirby could almost feel was in mourning. “Some lead through light, others through shadow. Some where even the stars fall dim.” There was a brief pause. “You become vulnerable when you believe you must walk them alone.”
Sniffling, Kirby wiped the tears from his cheeks, though they were quickly replaced with new ones. What choice did he have but to do things alone? Everyone was too busy, or were liars, or were gone. “W-what am I supposed to do…?” was all he could bring himself to ask.
“Remember,” Kabu's voice rumbled like distant thunder. “The embrace that never asks for change becomes the cage. Stars must grow and change to remain alight.”
Kirby stared down at his Warpstar, sniffling again as his tears gradually slowed. “I… I don't know how to do that,” he murmured, voice small again. “I don't know how to change without breaking something.”
“You fear something may break, but is something broken not simply another change?”
Kirby wasn't sure how to answer that, so he didn't.
“You are not meant to understand yet,” Kabu continued. “Knowing will come with time. Rest must come first.”
Kirby swallowed back the rest of his tears, nodding lightly. That, at least, made sense to him. “...Can I stay here a little longer?” He asked quietly.
“You may,” Kabu answered. “While the light holds.”
Without replying, Kirby once again laid down, curling himself around his Warpstar, its comforting glow lulling him into a sense of ease not unlike his dreams with his mother. His breathing slowed as his eyes drifted shut.
The sun was nearly set by the time Kirby exited the forest where Kabu's canyon resided. The path home was peppered in stark shadows, the sky dark and still covered in clouds. The air was damp with the remnants of the earlier rain, leaving Kirby with a biting chill.
He hadn't meant to stay so late. He guessed Kabu had been right about him needing rest, because even after sleeping all day, exhaustion weighed him down. Each step took more effort than the last. Kirby wanted to tell himself it was because of the cold, or the long walk… or perhaps the fact he slept on stone all day.
Lights in Pupu Village turned on one by one as night fell. Kirby didn't linger, continuing his trek down the path that lead to his home. It was strangely quiet; much like the walk through the forest had been. There was no familiar chirping of the bugs and other creatures that came out at night. It was odd, to say the least.
Relief sagged visibly within Kirby as his home came into view. He pushed himself to speed up his pace a little, and he finally made it.
Closing the door behind him, Kirby let out a long, exhausted sigh. It was dark and quiet, the last traces of daylight barely illuminating the room from the window near his bed. Kirby fumbled around for a moment to find the lamp on his bedside table, flicking the switch and blinking a few times as warm light filled the room. He squinted as a pressure formed behind his eyes, quickly looking away from the light. The light cast familiar shapes; his bed, the cabinets and his mirror, while the corners remained blanketed in soft shadows.
Kirby yawned, blinking away his drowsiness and the dull pressure forming in his head as his stomach growled faintly. The sensation made him remember he hadn't eaten. When was the last time he had…?
Shaking his head, Kirby turned towards the cabinets. He told himself he didn't want to think about it too much. Thinking seemed to make things worse lately. He knew he had to eat, though, so he gingerly opened the cabinet up and reached inside. There wasn't much there, just a few wrapped sweets and some fruit he probably should have finished days ago. He picked one of the fruits, an apple, and shut the cabinet with his free paw before he could change his mind.
The smell hit him first. The apple didn't smell bad, but it was more pungent than he thought an apple should be. It was sweet, almost cloyingly so, and it made his stomach twist in a way that was mildly unpleasant. Staring at the bright red fruit distastefully, Kirby frowned before forcing himself to take a bite out of it. It tasted dull, and the texture was coarse and fibrous in a way that didn't feel right. Grimacing, Kirby forced himself to swallow. The bite felt thick and resistant going down, making him wince. He waited for the familiar warmth and comfort that came when eating, but it never came.
I guess I'm still not hungry, Kirby thought as he choked down one more bite from the apple. The little he ate sat heavy, sinking uncomfortably within him instead of settling like it usually did. Guilt bubbled in his gut as he tossed the rest of the apple in the trash. I'll try again tomorrow.
As Kirby made his way over to his bed, he began adjusting the crumpled up blankets so they were more evenly layered. A loose feather sprang up when he lifted the blanket, and Kirby blinked, staring at it as it fluttered down to the floor.
Kirby shifted his feet to pick up the feather, his wings giving a small, uncomfortable twitch. Something itched. He stretched out his wings, giving them a solid flap to ruffle the feathers. Thankfully that made the sensation fade, and Kirby convinced himself it was just because they were still a little damp from earlier.
However as Kirby finished adjusting the blankets on his bed, the itching sensation returned, sharper this time. With an irritated grunt, Kirby stretched his wings towards his front in an attempt to reach the itch. He reached back, carefully brushing his paw along his left wing. He winced at the sudden harsh sensation, the feathers oddly sensitive as he attempted to smooth them over. This only seemed to make the itching sensation worse, and Kirby swore the feeling was digging deeper into his skin beneath the feathers.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Kirby pulled his paw away. The sensation still lingered. He shook out his wings again, more forcefully this time as his feathers ruffled in irritation. The itch dulled, but did not fade entirely. Instead, it settled into a low, crawling discomfort that made it difficult to focus on anything else.
Something isn't right.
His head throbbed at the thought, a tight band wrapping around his eyes. Rubbing at his eyes to try and ease the pressure, Kirby padded over to his mirror to investigate further. The familiar shape of his round body and the pale sweep of his wings were there and seemed normal at first glance. Leaning forward, Kirby lifted and tilted his left wing to try and get a closer look with help from the mirror. The feathers were still there, albeit ruffled and uneven. There were a few mildly noticeable bald gaps in both of his wings. He wanted to believe that he was just stressed and the itching was due to poor preening, not because he had-
One of the feathers near the base of his wing looked darker than the rest.
Kirby blinked, leaning back before leaning in again. The color didn't change, even when he shifted his wings against the light behind him. The feather looked almost bruised, the shaft bent at a strange angle. The skin near this odd feather looked irritated, flushed in a way that Kirby knew was not normal.
Kirby swallowed thickly, trying not to let the dread gradually crawling along his skin get to him as he shifted his wings again. He turned and looked at the wings from increasingly varied angles, and Kirby felt his heart leap to his throat when he swore the discoloration in his wings was spreading. That wasn't possible. Feathers don't just change color like that, do they?
The itching flared suddenly, sharp and deep, and Kirby wrenched himself from the mirror with a gasp. Heart pounding, Kirby stared at his reflection with wide eyes. The light behind him cast the wings in shadow, warping them along the feathers. They looked wrong.
No, no, no… those don't belong to me. The thought ensnared him, pulling him into icy water like an anchor. Kirby backed away, trembling as the shadows sprouting from the wings grew in intensity. He tore his gaze from the mirror, heart hammering as he took another step back. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, the room feeling too bright and too loud at the same time. He couldn't bear to keep looking. He didn't want to see it change again. Still shaking, Kirby quickly turned and yanked a blanket from his bed, haphazardly tossing it over the mirror and blocking his reflection from view.
Almost immediately, the itching began to subside, as did the painful headache, being reduced to a manageable dull throb. The wings still felt wrong; heavy and sore, but the sharp edge of terror was ebbing away. Breathing shallow, Kirby could only back up and sit at the edge of his bed, closing his eyes tightly as the wings instinctively wrapped around himself like a shield. He wanted to yank them away, but they were locked in place. They were no longer itchy or painfully sensitive to the touch. For now, that was enough.
I'm just tired, he told himself. The thought came easily, as though he had already rehearsed it. That's all this is. My wings belong to me. I'm okay. I just haven't been sleeping right. My wings belong to me. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm okay. I'm okay.
Kirby eventually mustered up the energy to turn his light off and drag himself into bed. He found that the pain and discomfort gradually faded now that it was dark. He curled up on his side, facing away from the now-covered mirror as he nestled under the blankets. If he slept enough, he reasoned, everything would stop and go back to normal. It just had to.
The gentle scent of cherry blossoms and warm summer air filled Kirby's senses before he even fell asleep.