Chapter Text
Subaru always respected his father, long before, and ever since, he decided to join the Finger, all to protect their family.
In the beginning, Kenichi was no different than a student in the Ring, one who did his best to create art that would earn grades good enough to ensure their family’s safety.
Since Subaru was a child, he remembered how people praised his father for his natural talent in artistry.
Striving to be like him, Subaru couldn’t help but develop an interest in art as well.
He remembered his mother doing her best to shield him from any influence of the Ring.
If he recalled correctly, it had been an agreement between his parents when his father chose to join.
For as much as his mother tried to explain their reasons, Subaru couldn’t truly understand them.
After all, didn’t Father do it to protect us? Why should I avoid being like him?
It had been a confusing dilemma for him throughout those years.
He had countless arguments with his mother about it, and as patient as she was, even she had her limits.
Subaru strode down the gallery, stopping briefly to gaze at his mother.
She was as beautiful as ever, and truly the kindest, best mother he could have wished for.
A small smile graced Subaru’s face as he gave her a brief wave before turning away.
This gallery, it was a place Subaru had been bound to for a long time.
A gallery that contained a myriad of masterpieces, among which not a single one was his own.
Subaru was a Docent, one of only two, tasked with ensuring the safety of the gallery and acting as a host who would enlighten those who came to admire the masterpieces it held.
Yet he was nothing more than a lesser one.
He would not become the owner of this gallery, nor would he become the Maestro.
That place rightfully belonged to his father, the one who stood just a step away from becoming one.
A talented Docent, far beyond someone like him.
A man whose two masterpieces were worthy of recognition and display within this gallery.
Among the members of the Ring, it was widely expected that Subaru would one day grow worthy of his father’s legacy, that he would become a Maestro like him.
But the most Subaru could hope for was to become a reliable and sufficiently experienced Docent, one who would uphold the gallery so that Maestros like his father could focus solely on their art.
One could even say that this gallery was the product of their family’s entire lives.
For as suffocating as it was, it also granted Subaru a sense of peace and warmth.
Alas, Subaru saw no future for himself in Corporism; the teachings his father had inherited from catching glimpses of Sir Callisto’s masterpieces did not inspire him in the same way.
The mastery with which he wielded blood vessels, how he shaped the tendons and mended the flesh, intertwining them to create structures no different from those that were once alive, despite the life having been snuffed out of them.
From Subaru’s perspective, none of it could be considered true art.
The craft, so focused on the quality of materials and the skill used to shape them, was merely work in his eyes, the same as experts in workshops crafting instruments.
Something so grounded and earthy could not be viewed as art.
That was why Subaru respected his father, the man who managed to create real art through Corporism.
One who overcame the shallowness many suffered from while practicing it and gave it far more depth than anyone before.
If there was someone who deserved the status that came with it, it was certainly his father.
Subaru stopped once more, his gaze drifting back as he watched his father embrace his mother, the two of them radiating a familiar warmth.
Maybe one day I’ll be able to join them too? Subaru wondered, unable to tear his eyes away from the two masterpieces.
The statues, made of bone wrapped in flesh, with rare patches of skin on the hands that held each other, blood vessels connecting both skeletons, through which blood pulsed.
At their center, two hearts were stitched into one, pumping blood and keeping the carcasses alive.
No matter how long he gazed at it, Subaru could never stop admiring the image.
If anything, he envied it, feeling as though he was missing something, unable to join the two.
“Son.”
Subaru turned his head to meet his father, draped in white robes that revealed numerous prosthetics forming his body.
Subaru’s smile faltered as he looked away from the masterpiece before meeting the metal husk directly.
“Have you still not reconsidered your request?” his father asked.
Subaru sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“I know… It’s just-” His words faltered for a moment before he gave a sheepish smile.
“Maybe if you used my body as well, then you could’ve achieved the status of Maestro.”
His father’s expression didn’t change, it couldn’t, being constructed from metal.
Nonetheless, his mouth opened, and he sighed, placing a hand on Subaru’s shoulder.
“The fact that I’ve been able to create those two works is nothing but sheer luck.”
Subaru wanted to retort, but his father’s grip on his shoulder tightened slightly.
“And who said that your old man cannot produce something worthy on his own? It’s a finished piece anyway, so I might as well create something new.”
Though the voice produced by the speaker remained the same, Subaru could sense a hint of amused teasing within it.
“Youth like you should chase and realize your own dreams, not sacrifice them for old geezers like me.”
Subaru snorted, shrugging off his father’s hand and firing back, “Nobody said I’m giving up. I just don’t want to follow your path to success, old man.”
He huffed, only for a metallic hand to wrap around his neck, pulling him into a playful chokehold, cold metal pressing against his scalp.
“So that’s how you treat your old man?”
Subaru hissed slightly in pain before Kenichi let him go, straightening his robes.
“I thought you said to follow my dreams?” Subaru retorted, fixing his hair and slicking it back properly.
Kenichi adjusted the scarf around his neck, an artificial one, before quickly shifting the topic.
“Lately, I couldn’t help but overhear about the newest masterpiece my son is making. If I remember correctly, it was that Fauvist Maestro’s apprentice who mentioned it, the nice girl you always speak with?”
Subaru could almost picture the teasing expression on his father’s face, while he merely scoffed.
“The ‘Ratty’ you’re talking about is a man, Father.”
His father pressed on nonetheless.
“Nonsense, there’s no shame in the Ring, man or woman. Your father would be delighted to see his son happy.”
Subaru’s brows furrowed as he sighed in exasperation. “That’s not the problem, Father!”
He nearly threw his hands up, stopping himself only because they were in the gallery.
“Ratty Ratatouille is a suprematist who mixes every single direction of art. If you were to ask him about art movements, I’m certain he wouldn’t name more than two of them. And all that while being recognized as an official Student of a Fauvist Maestro, I’m not even mentioning his connections to prescripts…”
A throbbing headache began to form as his father ruffled his hair, forcing Subaru to fix it again.
And immediately after came the annoyance of having shared any of this at all.
Can’t stay silent even if it saved his life… Subaru grumbled inwardly, sighing.
The real reason Subaru didn’t want to show Vertebrae was simple: it was a failed artwork.
It was shallow.
A pure imitation of what he had once seen the former Maestro of Corporism create. A lance formed from his own spine, veins, arteries, and arms. A single weapon that could extend or lose its shape, turning into a whip.
At best, it was a useful instrument, but still far from true art.
The only value it possessed lay in the materials Subaru had used. Those were the only meaningful elements of Vertebrae, wasted on such a shallow replica.
“It’s still in development, Father,” Subaru answered quickly, then added, “Also, you should spend less time around Students, especially ones like Ratty.”
His father laughed, and Subaru was half convinced he had no intention of listening.
Still, he shook his head.
Subaru wasn’t ready to show Vertebrae yet.
He was fairly certain that if he presented it, it would earn at least a seventy percent mark, purely for craftsmanship and materials, but it still didn’t deserve a place in the gallery.
He didn’t know what to do or where to go from here.
Corporism had long since become something he understood wasn’t his future.
Maybe it would gain more prominence once his father became a Maestro, but Subaru himself had nothing to add to it.
Yet at the same time, bound to this gallery as a Docent, he felt he couldn’t do anything.
That wasn’t true.
If he asked, his father would grant him the freedom to create.
With his reputation as a future Maestro, even a word of support would open countless paths for Subaru.
And yet, he didn’t want to.
He was unwilling to leave the gallery, the work of his family.
He didn’t want to burden his father or slow his path to becoming a Maestro.
Subaru could only sigh, a frown forming on his face.
Maybe I’ll visit Ratty later.
If not for inspiration, then at least for the urge he still had to gouge out another eye of that Rat.
Maybe I’ll even get bonus points for that…
Themes of betrayal and such.