C҉R҉O҉W҉ | ᴍᴄᴜ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I X - 𝐞𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜

1 9 9 0

IN THE CLUTTERED LIVING ROOM, young Azrael sat cross-legged on the worn carpet, his eyes intently focused on the television screen. Instead of cartoons or children's shows that typically captivated children his age, Azrael was engrossed in a documentary showcasing a master martial artist.

The fighter moved with a fluidity and precision that seemed almost supernatural. Each strike and block executed with flawless technique.

His father, noticing his son's intense concentration, chuckled softly.

"You planning on taking up jiu-jitsu, Azrael?"

Azrael didn't respond. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the fighter's routine in his mind's eye with eidetic clarity.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather watch something else, Azrael?" His father inquired, bemused by his son's unusual interest, "Gargoyles are airing on that other channel."

No response again.

As the act concluded, a spark of determination ignited within Azrael.

Out of nowhere he stood up, pushing aside the coffee table with a small shove, clearing a makeshift stage in the center of the room.

"What are you doing?" His mother called out from the kitchen, her tone laced with mild concern and curiosity as her eyebrows furrowed, "Azrael?"

Without answering, Azrael positioned himself at the edge of the carpet, his small frame poised in concentration.

In a sudden burst of motion, he began to mimic the martial artist's moves with a surprising degree of accuracy. His small body moved with a control that was unheard of for someone his age. Each punch and kick mirroring the ones he'd just seen on screen.

Even in real time, his body moved synchronously with the television.

Azrael's parents watched in silent amazement from the kitchen doorway, their initial curiosity turning to awe. As he completed the sequence with a final decisive move, Azrael turned to face them, his chest heaving slightly from the effort, but his eyes shining with excitement.

His parents watched in stunned silence, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and awe. Azrael's father set the newspaper aside, his eyes never leaving his son. His mother wiped her hands on her apron and joined her husband at the doorway, her mouth agape.

"Azrael, that was. . .  that was incredible!" His mother exclaimed.

"How did you do that, son?" His father asked, a mix of wonder and curiosity in his voice.

Azrael shrugged.

"I just watched him do it, and then I did it. . .?"

••••••••

P R E S E N T

AZRAEL'S GAZE LINGERED on the patchwork of clouds outside the private jet's window, a thoughtful silence enveloping him. His chin resting on his knuckles.

Turning his attention back inside, he noticed Y/N's discomfort. Despite the luxurious setting, Y/N seemed out of place, his mind clearly elsewhere. Azrael understood that look all too well.

The weight of a thousand thoughts.

"Mind if I ask you something?" Azrael began, breaking the silence that had settled between them. His tone was casual, but his eyes were keen, observing Y/N closely.