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I always wondered why the plays at the theatre my parents had taken me to had characters that seemed to have everything figured out–“I'm feeling down because of this!” “I know I feel like I'm in a downward spiral because of them!”–how strange it was to see the stage light on them, illuminating their fake tears as if the glow of their sorrow would blow away all of the incomprehensible ache inside of the audience. It was supposed to be tragedy. Humor. That no matter how many tears spilled over, it would be resolved in the end; it was only fiction, after all. You were supposed to exit the theatre with a smile.
I had always hated those fake, ever fake actors that never seemed to fail to undermine how badly, how sick the ache to understand myself made me feel. I split my head open wondering why I had such a thirst to come out on top. Why I had such a need for praise and the eyes redirected to me instead of my brother, and why I didn't give a damn about what I would have to do to feel that fleeting victory in my grasp. It was as fleeting as sand between my fingers, as fleeting as a life.
Finral came sliding down, tattered boots clacking on the hard concrete as he ran to where I was sitting underneath the bridge. He sat down so quickly I was expecting him to fall, I reached out in case I needed to catch him, but he managed to stabilize himself and presented an armful of bread loaves to me proudly.
“Langris, I got us some food. I marked the merchant with my magic, we'll be fed for weeks–haha–” He stopped to catch his breath, chest heaving so fiercely as if he'd been running for a day straight. The sweat beading on his face wasn't helped by the humid, scalding weather of the afternoon sun in Tota, but being by the water cooled the area by the slightest bit. My brother set the bread down on one of our torn blankets, looking at it with a bright smile as if he'd ensured our future. He turned his head to me, legs crossed as he sat in front of me.
“Are you okay? That's your ‘I'm thinking bad things about myself’ face.” Finral's eyes scanned me, boring through me like he was trying to pick out my thoughts. Although he could never truly understand, he always made an effort to do so. He was empathetic. If only we had the same mother, then I would have inherited that trait.
I recalled seeing only one or two portraits of Miss Roulacase at House Vaude, most pictures with her in it having her face torn from the image or it being so faded you could barely make out any of the colors. Her smile seemed warm, motherly, and just by looking at her through a glass frame I could feel how many similarities her and my brother shared. They were more full of something than I'd ever be.
“I'm fine. Don't worry about me.” I forced a smile, avoiding Finral’s eyes. I could see his mouth begin to twitch into a frown.
“Don't keep everything bottled up inside. Tell me. I want to help you, please.” My brother held my shoulders. I could see the sorrow in his eyes, as if to inaudibly add to what he said–
–”You’re all I have left.”
I met his eyes for a split second before grabbing a loaf of bread and taking a bite from it. I never felt hungry on most days, really. I’d gotten used to the empty feeling in my stomach, so I ate solely to keep myself alive, but I found it hard to want to keep myself breathing, eating, feeling.
“I promise I’ll tell you.” I lied.
Finral paused for a moment, then rubbed a stain off of my collar. He looked me in the eyes, at my eyebags and sunken cheeks. He didn't look any better than I did, but his skin was a little warmer and his smile had a bit more life to it.
Soon, the sky faded to orange and then to the dark starlit sky. Sleeping atop the cold concrete, fighting the warm weather, I was held by my brother. He was concerningly cold, breathing slowly, but all that matters was his embrace. I kept him close, needing to hear his heartbeat to make sure he was alive. That he was here and not leaving. But without his voice, I was left alone with myself, and worst of all, stuck with my thoughts. Stuck with my regrets and mistakes.
“Langris, h-honey- what are you doing?” My mother said, with pleading, horrified eyes. As if in that one moment, she was regretting what she had created with her own two hands. She did this.
“Shut up. S-shut up!” I remember my own voice, raw and clawing at my throat as I screamed. I touched my throat, still feeling how I was gasping for air after yelling. I felt lightheaded. It simply didn't feel like it was real, so I didn't anticipate the consequences.
“Langris, please, we can fix this for you.” My father added; always of no help. Nothing they could have done would fix how hurt, how confused and pained I felt and how I was forced to hide behind the mask of perfection. Anything short of flawless was pointed out, anything shy of faultless I had to clean up by any means necessary.
Yes, my father could always fix the damage when I destroyed a pillar of our house or a wall, but could he fix a fucking hole in his face?
I stopped myself there. I wanted the memory gone.
I don't think I fell asleep that night. If I did, I had been too exhausted to notice, and if I didn't, it would be of no surprise to me. Nonetheless, morning came, but the sky was overcast. It was so humid it made my skin stick to the concrete, and cicadas buzzed louder than the chatter of people from the nearby market.
My brother was gone–probably looking for more blankets or more variety in our diet. I wish I didn’t feel so useless, but what can you do with magic that can only destroy?
My only entertainment was the water in front of me, so I looked at my reflection. It was murky, of course, so I only saw a distorted version of my face atop the water. I dipped my hand in, bitterly cold despite the hot weather. It wasn't refreshingly cool; just a tepid surface becoming more icy as I pushed my arm deeper in.
He's better off without you.
With my chest heaving, my shoulder was submerged. My arm and fingertips were heavier and colder than ice blocks, as if forcing me to continue my descent. I didn't want to be dragged into the water–did I?
You're nothing but a burden.
Finral would be better off without me. He wouldn't have another mouth to feed, and he could focus on things that truly mattered, like finding a better place to stay than under this disgusting bridge. He could actually create a life.
Without much thought, unlike anything I'd done in my life, I plunged deeper. My whole body was underwater in seconds, my heart quickening with urgency–but I was calm, ignoring the burn in my lungs for air. The water held me in a cold so potent it was scalding. The overwhelming sensations were a reminder that I was still alive.
There's nothing about you that's useful.
I could hear somebody talking from the surface, and I could see a shadow moving about as I opened my eyes, but I quickly closed them from the sting. That voice was my brother's. He was yelling. He could've sensed my mana in the water, I bet, if he could stop panicking.
He'll forget about you once this is done.
I was becoming more and more lightheaded due to the loss of air. The dirt in the water brushing against my skin was sickening, and it was no short of the conditions I deserved to die in.
Before I lost the remainder of my consciousness, I was pulled out of the water by my arm. Harshly.
“This ain't the best place to die in, kid.”
The first thing I did upon leaving the water was cough until my throat burned. I coughed out all the water in my lungs, trying to wipe off all of the dirt and algae on my clothes and skin, but I was finally able to appreciate the air, despite it being humid. When I mustered the strength to open my eyes, my brother and a tall man with shaggy black hair, a muscular build, and a cigarette in his mouth were in front of me.
“I– I can't thank you enough, oh my God–” Finral had tears pouring down his cheeks and his hands couldn't stop shaking. I thought he'd abandoned the habit of being so afraid all the time a while ago, but he was reduced to his younger self used to being pushed around in house Vaude. In a way, I'd missed that version of him. It seemed more natural.
“Name's Yami Sukehiro.” Yami Sukehiro said. He took a drag from his cigarette before looking at me, then Finral, and then smiling.
“You two should join the Black Bulls. You two have got some powerful magic, I can tell, and there's no way you'll be able to live up to your potential in a place like this.” Yami Sukehiro threw me and Finral a Black Bulls cloak… the worst squad, but it was a start. It was an opportunity. I held the cloak in my weak, leaden hands, the golden stitching glittering.
“I– What? Me? My spatial magic's only good for transportation. My little brother’s the one that should be joining. He has destructive spatial magic–”
“I said both of you. Besides, I know you'll find your own way to fight, even if it's just a portal.” Yami Sukehiro looked at me, analyzing me. “And you, I know destruction can’t be all you’re good for. You just gotta see it.”
“I…” I didn’t know what to say. What the hell was I supposed to do? I’d tried to kill myself in one moment then got dragged out of the water in another, and it was all blurring together. An actual do-over. Well, maybe not a do-over, but maybe I could learn to heal.
“I’ll join.” My mouth moved before I could think about it any more. Finral looked at me, first with confusion, then with hope. A glimmer of true, genuine hope shined in him as if I’d been doing the same and he was only following suit; and maybe I was a little hopeful.
“If he’s joining, I’ll join too.” My brother said, then Yami started walking and gesturing for us to follow.
“Alright, come on, homeless guys.” Yami took another drag from his cigarette.
“My name is Finral! Finral Vaude!” My brother yelled, obviously mad at being called homeless even though it was just a fact that we had been homeless. Maybe he was just mad that Yami had finally put a label on it.
“...My name is Langris Vaude.” I said. It was odd to call myself a Vaude after all this time. Uncomfortable, even. But maybe I– no, we could fix the reputation put on the name of Vaude.
“Alright, Finral and Langris. I'm taking you two to get some grimoires first, though. And a change of clothes…” Yami grimaced as if we smelled. Which, I guess we did, but at least we had a reason.
“Hey! I don't smell that bad!” Finral yelled, again.
“Quit yer complaining. I’m giving you two shelter, food, and money, so you better thank me or something.” Yami said, but his face softened as if he wasn’t really expecting a thank you. “Your little brother just took a dive into a body of water that was pretty fucking muddy, so we’re finding a bathhouse, too.”
“As if you look any better than we do.” I rolled my eyes, mumbling. I couldn't help but smile, though–Yami laughed at my comment. There was something warm and inviting about him, despite how rough he looks.
I felt like me and my brother were in good hands with the Black Bulls.