The X-Project

Friday afternoon at 4 PM, Shiro and Jean-Paul meet up to race as arranged in this e-mail. Just some fun as two acquaintances meet up for the first time in two years.


Four o'clock and it was a balmy, sunny day, perfect for flying. Paul lounged against the guard-rail of the flight deck, making sure his sunglasses were firmly settled in place so they wouldn't slip while he was flying, and waited for Shiro to join him. He hadn't seen the Japanese boy for almost two years, it would be interesting to see how he'd grown. Just the fact that Shiro had emailed him at all was proof enough that he had changed.

Sickened by yet another display of teenage angst and self-absorption, Shiro couldn't wait for his appointment with Jean-Paul. A race would make him forget it all. So as the clock struck four, Shiro walked out onto the flight deck, dressed in his normal t-shirt and shorts, ready to challenge the Olympic athlete. "Mr. Beaubier," he said, bowing slightly.

Paul nodded in return, smiling at Shiro's formality. He himself was dressed almost as though he were going cycling, but barefoot. Who needed shoes when you never intended for your feet to touch the ground? "Good to see you again, Shiro. What route would you like to take?"

"You too. Hopefully you have not yet fallen victim to the curse of insanity that runs rampant here," Shiro said wryly as he approached the Canadian. "From here to the lake, around its perimeter, and back. That's a good few miles."

"If I were going to go insane, I'd have done so a very, very long time ago," Paul said lightly, walking to the open edge of the flight deck. The lake glittered in the distance, even from here Paul could still easily see the way the wind ruffled the surface. The currents in the area could be quixotic. "To the left shore then, first, coming about and then home?"

"Okay." Shiro cocked his head to one side then the other to crack his neck, and then got into position for a quick lift-off. "And Xavier's has a whole new brand that you have likely never before encountered. You will see what I mean soon enough, I'm sure."

Paul pulled in his power and set his course, eyes narrowing a little. "It's possible, but then again, I've been around a while. Ready?"

Welcoming the sun's power, Shiro summoned his fiery nimbus to surround him. "Ready. On the count of three. And if you cheat like Ms. Munroe, Mr. Marko will be fishing you out of the lake."

Paul gave Shiro a sharp smile. "Cheating is just losing in fancy dress." When the count of three came, the flight deck was far behind in an instant. Going all out in strange territory wasn't wise, and Paul didn't see any fun to be had in trying to outstrip Shiro completely. He wanted to see what kind of speed the boy had before pushing him.

Shiro reached one hundred miles per hour in only a few seconds, trailing flame in the air behind him. Paul was keeping up with him with hardly any effort it seemed, so Shiro kicked it up a bit and tried to move faster. He was quickly approaching his maximum speed but refused to slow down even a bit. Even if Paul was a faster flier, it would be dishonorable for Shiro to not give his all.

Paul watched Shiro fly, speeding up more to push him a little further. He needed practice, Paul thought. Really, he should be out daily, working on this. However, that wasn't Paul's business, he wasn't the boy's teacher. As they looped around the lake, Paul decided he'd learned what he needed to right now, then doubled his speed easily.

Shiro nearly stopped when Paul passed by him in a flash of light. Muttering a curse under his breath, Shiro pushed himself even more. He found himself silently praying to Amaterasu, the sun goddess and patron of Japan, to bless him with the strength and speed needed to catch the Canadian. But it was of to no avail. By the time Shiro finally returned to the flight deck, Paul was already there.

Paul waited for Shiro to catch up - at the speeds they were going, the other flyer was only seconds behind him - watching him approach. Shiro was already fairly disciplined, Paul was sure of that, but he needed more if he was going to go faster. It was possible that he'd reached his threshold but at this young age, there was always the chance to improve. "I think we need a longer route," Paul said when Shiro had landed.

Shiro touched down, letting his power flow out of him, and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "I agree. We could fly to and from Times Square," he suggested, only partially joking. "That's a much longer route." And he was up for it. Far from exhausted, Shiro wanted to know how far he could push himself, and how far Paul could, before fatigue reached either of them.

"I hate flying laps. I'll have to come up with some options." Paul leaned on the railing, going over things in his head. If they went east some, they'd be out over the water, and there'd be few to care about sighting them. He'd have to get permission first. Flying at night wasn't much of an option for Shiro, unless he could tone down the flame.

"We have the entire sky. There are plenty of routes we can devise." The way Shiro said 'we' meant that he would insist on challenging Paul as often as they could until Shiro could win. "How fast can you fly?" he asked, hopping up to sit on the railing.

"How fast can I fly, or how fast do I fly?" Paul shrugged. "The first one, I was last clocked over a shorter distance at eight hundred, eighty-three point four-two kilometers per hour. I think I can go faster under pressure, but I haven't repeated it in testing. I prefer to keep to about four hundred kilometers an hour for general flying, sometimes less. Otherwise, I miss things."

Shiro just barely stopped himself from pulling another Alex, and instead of saying 'Dude' he let out a whistle of astonishment. "Sugoi . . ."

Paul shrugged. "It's not as useful as it sounds, to go so fast, not most of the time. You can't cross certain air spaces, it's a pain to fly through bad weather, you can't take much with you anyway... you get the point. Not that I'm complaining, just that most of the time, it's just going fast for the sake of going fast," and here he grinned at Shiro, "which is always a worthy cause. Just not practical."

"You were an Olympic star. I would that that that would have been the only important thing." Shiro returned the grin. "Practicality aside."

"True. No one will believe me when I say that I was going as fast as I could then. But experience tells me that practice makes a great difference. My sister can outfly me, easily, and she started long before I did."

Shiro cocked his head to one side again, this time in question (although he did crack his neck again). "I didn't know you have a sister."

"My twin. She keeps to herself, mostly," Paul said smoothly. "She prefers it that way. We worked together at Alphaflight for quite a few years."

"So she's also a mutant?" Shiro was prying, he knew, and realized it was only a matter of time before Paul told him to buzz off. But that didn't stop the questions from coming.

Paul nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yes, our abilities are fairly similar."

"I have a little sister, too. Leyu-chan. I do not think you've met her. I don't know yet if she is also a mutant, but if she is, it would be interesting to see if we shared powers." Shiro got down off the railing. "Want another go around the lake, and then we can go see if Ms. Dane has prepared any food that we can appropriate?"

"Definitely." Paul stepped back up to the edge of the platform. "And tonight I'll talk to Charles about where we can fly for real distance. Ready?"

Shiro couldn't resist the Americanism that demanded to be uttered. "Bring it."