"It's about to storm, Kakashi. Come inside."

His son turned and looked up at him reproachfully, peering up through silver tangles, and Sakumo felt as though he was looking at an old man.

"Come inside, Kakashi."

The wind was growing stronger and he could feel Kakashi's body shake beneath the onslaught, tiny body wavering as though he were about to be picked up by the wind. Sakumo tightened his hands on his son's shoulders, fingers curling around the shoulderblades that were bird wings. His wife had been like this, thin bones and shoulderblades that were like wings, and one stormy night she'd flown away, just like a bird. He prayed his son was heavier, that the wind wouldn't be able to carry his son away, that his son wouldn't be seduced by the sky.

"I'm coming," Kakashi said, an impudent boy's answer that was nothing like an answer. His little fingers were still spread wide, as though he was trying to grab the sky, and Sakumo was terrified.

"Kakashi, come inside."

The boy heaved a sigh, huge and heavy, and clenched his hands shut. He started to shuffle towards the house and Sakumo let go of the bird wings that were shoulderblades, watching the strange little creature that was his son, but so much more, and sighed.

Grab the sky indeed.

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