Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Happy birthday, Julius!" 

Be composed, Julius reminded himself as he received the wish with a smile. It strained at the edges, he knew, but what else was to be expected after thanking strangers for saying things they didn't mean, again and again? 

The gentleman who had wished him the birthday shook Julius's hand firmly, his eyes keen on Julius's face. A young lady — his daughter, if their shared smoky aqua eyes were anything to be depended upon — nodded at him politely but distantly. The gentleman clears his throat and nudges his daughter closer. 

Right. It's not the endless, meaningless, happy birthdays and thank yous he's tired of — Julius is the son of a noble; he knows the rules of etiquette, he's a master of them. 

It's that the nobles keep on attempting to endear their children to him.

The tradition of the twenty first birthday meaning being eligible to be knighted was one long gone, but most nobles with large histories still celebrated the Coming of Age Ceremony. They can never turn down an opportunity to call for a large celebration, after all. It had been a few hours since Julius's own ceremony started, and it was sure to go on for hours more. 

The fact that Julius is 21 never seems to stave suitors — or a suitor's parents — off. He's used about every excuse he can think of, but it's hard to reject something so vague, when it's only a why, my daughter is exactly like you, maybe you should spend some time with her instead of the implied marriage proposal that would be so much easier to shut down.

The young lady shifts, clearly unwilling to say anything either. An awkward silence commences, and Julius bows his head, already trying to find a suitable reason to leave the conversation. 

"Ah, my Maria is a little shy," the gentleman tries to say, seemingly sensing that he was losing Julius. The lady, Maria, looks decidedly unimpressed but stays silent. "She admires you a lot, Sir Juukulius." 

"Maria is a nice name," Julius says while trying to think of better things to say.

"Indeed!" The gentleman exclaims with a gleam in his eye. Perhaps he sees an opening. 

"Yes, it's my mother's name," Julius replies. The gentleman visibly deflates. "Thank you for coming to the ceremony—" He pauses as he realizes he didn't know their names. 

"Pauvord," the gentleman says weakly. "Have an enjoyable night, then." With that, he sweeps away. Maria gives Julius one last apologetic look before she is tugged along with his father. 

Julius runs his fingers through his hair, even though his mother had specifically told him to not ruin the elaborate oils and mixtures the servants had slathered onto his hair to maintain the styling. He sighs and forces his hand back down. Okay, just another round in the banquet hall, with a smile befitting the Finest of Knights. Then countless more rounds, but one thing at a time, no? 

"Happy birthday!" Thank you. "Dear, you look lovely tonight." You too. "My child's outfit matches with yours, doesn't it?" That's nice. "Your courage and chivalry are so admirable." There are many others far more deserving of your praise. "If only my son were as humble as you!" I'm sure he's great. "Well, maybe you'd like to teach him in your ways sometime?" Startled laughter, a wave of the hand and an excuse to go. 

"The man of the hour! Happy birthday." Julius tenses himself for another game of push and pull. 

He wants out, and he wants it quickly. His breaths are coming in uneven and his attention is drifting. Even the people talking to him are starting to notice how inattentive Julius is becoming. 

"Julius?" Like a blessing, someone familiar speaks, soft but assured. "Oh, my apologies, Lord Iraliel. I need to speak to Julius for a moment." 

Lord Iraliel, whose name Julius didn't know a second ago, squawks. "Of course, Sir Reinhard! Take your time!" He then hurries away.

"Reinhard… Thank you," Julius mutters as solemnly as anyone could when their head is pounding like a stone absorbing a hurricane — splitting apart, pebbles and dust. 

Reinhard doesn't say anything, just pulls him somewhere. Julius follows; of course he does, even if he doesn't know where he's going and even if it means Julius isn't a good knight because he doesn't know what's happening right now, at all, in more ways than one —

Fresh air hits him, and the hurricane in his head dies down into a blissful trickle of water. 

"It's okay," Reinhard says soothingly. The voice is as normal as any other voice, except it isn't. Because it's Reinhard's. The voices in the banquet hall were just as loud as Reinhard's, but they cut into his eardrums, while Reinhard's voice heals. 

Julius blinks the last of his sluggishness away. Pretty red hair, concerned blue eyes, steady hands, fixed on Julius's arms. Julius pulls away with a jolt.

"I'm okay," Julius says after a beat of silence. "I don't… Sorry, I'm usually better at handling social occasions. A lot better." 

Reinhard smiles at him gently, though he looks a bit puzzled. "I know, Julius. You must be really tired. It has been a long time since the ceremony started. You should take a break."

"Probably," Julius acquiesces. "Thanks for coming, Reinhard." It doesn't quite capture how utterly grateful Julius is for Reinhard's presence, but it works.

"Sorry for being late. I got caught up with some family matters." Reinhard shuffles, angling his head to look at the open air. The balcony Reinhard had brought them to was mostly empty save a tipsy noble sitting on the floor. 

Julius hums. "Want to talk about it?" 

"It's not a big matter, don't worry," Reinhard says. "How are you feeling?" 

It's a deflection, but Julius respects Reinhard's privacy, so he doesn't say anything. "I feel… young. Sometimes I forget that 21 years of age isn't all that much. Our daily lives are filled with responsibility, and I wouldn't have it any other way, but…" Julius shrugs gracefully. "It's striking that so many, ah, hands are being offered. Especially after that inelegant performance of mine, I feel dreadfully young."

"Hands? Oh." Reinhard pauses. "Julius, you're the epitome of elegance." He ignores Julius's objections and continues, "If I were you, I would have gotten overwhelmed with the crowd an hour into the ceremony." 

Now that gives Julius pause too. Reinhard is plenty used to crowds, or at least, he should be, considering that he's… well. Reinhard. Still, it makes sense that someone of Reinhard's personality would be uncomfortable with such scenes. Julius berates himself for not noticing that sooner — how many times had they attended the same functions, and how many times had Reinhard's wishes slipped Julius's gaze?

It was something to think about, but it also reminded Julius of a question. "How did you appear at such a perfect time?" 

"I don't know. I just arrived," was Reinhard's answer. Well. Reinhard's instincts were always complete mystery. 

Julius leans on the wall, observing his friend. There are still many things he doesn't know about Reinhard. Some things he may never know. Perhaps that was the reason for the glimpse of sadness Reinhard had in his expressions sometimes, like he did now. 

What was it like to live as Reinhard? Songs could be spun, have been spun, about the greatness of this generation's Sword Saint, but what about the small things? The daily dullness of waking up with sunshine on your skin and emptiness in the house; walking through town having a perfect posture and eyes watching you; going to events right on time, right as people need you. Never quite alone, never truly your own. 

Was that what it was like? Julius doesn't know, and he thinks that may be the saddest thing of all. To live life with everyone taking but no one understanding. 

"I feel like you're getting lost in your reveries again," Reinhard mumbles. He tilts his head back, just slightly enough for Julius to catch the stars reflected in his blue eyes. That shouldn't be possible, but of course it was. The fabric of the universe would — should — tear itself apart and stitch it just for Reinhard.

Reinhard's cheeks glow with a faint pink. "Ah, was I staring at you?" Julius asks. 

"Rather intensely," Reinhard confirms. "Is there anything I can help you with…?" 

"I'm sorry about my staring. I'm fine, I was just thinking. Reverie isn't the word I'd use to describe it, but I was certainly lost." Reinhard had turned back to the dark sky. When had the sun set? During the time Julius was inside? That was too bad, Julius thought. Reinhard would've looked lovely in the light of dusk. 

"Have you been bothered by many people in the banquet hall?"

"Hm?" Julius thinks about Reinhard's question for a second. "No, not bothered. The guests were just introducing themselves, so to speak. It's my fault I wasn't paying them the proper respect." 

"They were introducing themselves?" Reinhard blurts. "I mean, I wasn't here for most of the ceremony — sorry again — but I've been to enough events that I doubt they truly cared for you."

That was uncharacteristic of Reinhard's usual non-confrontational manner, though it wasn't exactly false. Such was the way of nobility. Reinhard knows that. Were the words how Reinhard wanted to express them?

"What are you concerned about?" Julius asks just to be sure. 

Reinhard winces then shakes his head. "It's… never mind. I'm just worried if they were imposing on you, but I trust you."

Very uncharacteristic of Reinhard. Then again, it was characteristic of him to swallow his words. Julius ponders a second as to Reinhard's true intentions. "Don't worry, my family would not force me to marry so young, no matter how many offers are extended." 

Reinhard's blush creeps down his neck. Julius guesses he hit the nail on the head, then. "That's — good? Well, as I said, I trust you, so it's okay." Julius nods at Reinhard's response, but he wonders, trust him to do what? 

"The stars are becoming clearer," Reinhard points out. It's an abrupt change in topic, but again, he's not wrong. Julius pushes himself off the wall to lean on the railing with Reinhard instead. The stars glitter overhead as the lights in the Royal Capital die down. 

They settle into a companionable silence, observing the night sky. There isn't much to observe — yes, it's pretty, but it's the same as every other day. 

"Have you considered marrying in the future?" Julius asks Reinhard at last. His friend shifts beside him.

"I suppose I'll follow my family's wishes," Reinhard answers, which is not really an answer. To be fair, it was unusual for a noble not to marry, so the true question Julius had wanted to ask was who. Then again, Reinhard's answer would be the same: whoever his family wanted, whenever, however. 

They fall back into silence. It's more awkward this time. Julius thinks about trying to break it.

"You haven't wished me yet," Julius observes.

Reinhard laughs a bit. "I would wish you on your actual birthday instead of a ceremonial celebration, seeing as we meet often anyway. But okay." 

Julius turns just in time to catch Reinhard's soft smile, aimed at Julius. How long had he been looking at him? 

"Happy birthday, Julius."

Chapter Text

Ichor flowed in Reinhard's veins, tinged with red. The Council of Gods had ascended Reinhard not long ago, during his quest to hunt down the largest and most prominent cult in the world, led by the seven Sin Archbishops. He had defeated the sixth, with the help of his friends. It hurt to think about them — and how he left them — so he didn't.

Reinhard thought the main reason for his attainment of godhood wasn't because they were impressed by his skills. It was likely just because fate would not allow a quester so powerful. After all, he had been taken right before the battle with the final — and most terrifying — cultist, and the rest of his friends had remained human.

Admittedly, it's a depressing thought, but he tries to look out for his friends and former partners. A perk of being a god, even if just one among many, many, was that he could see more things. In more ways than one. So he walks alone in the hallway — or at least, one of the hallways — of Olympus, fingers brushing the cool marble as he tries to understand his new powers for the sake of helping his friends.

The scent of wine and grapes reaches Reinhard, and his hand touches the hilt this blade instinctively. Someone behind him chuckles. "I suppose even a god would be hurt by your legendary sword, but it won't do much."

Reinhard ignores the pull of madness descending upon him by the god's presence alone. "Dionysus Aesymnetes, God of Festivity, Wine and Theater," he greets formally. He's not human anymore; he has to act like a god. Though, gods shouldn't be affected by the passive domains of other gods, so why did Reinhard feel his emotions slipping from his control?

"And insanity," Dionysus adds in amusement. "Hello Reinhard, God of Bladework, Heroes, and Humility. You're still human at your core, aren't you?" He raises his goblet and sips.

"I've never been human, not really," Reinhard mutters before he can stop himself. His memories of being mortal were bittersweet. Distantly, he registers that Dionysus' domains might be influencing, no, inciting his inhibited thoughts.

The god in question smiles, and Reinhard thinks it's nearly in understanding. "How sad. Not at home with mortals nor immortals. Never would've pegged you for a sad drunk though." He laughs and drinks again.

"I don't get drunk," Reinhard says instead of acknowledging Dionysus' more serious words. He does feel lightheaded, but not even close to tipsy. The god laughs louder and waves his hand. A mist appears, and within the mist, an image. Dionysus smirks and offers his goblet of wine. Reinhard peers into the image and finds out it's not really an image — it's moving.

Subaru reaches out to a mass of lavender hair matted with blood. Reinhard's heart leaps into his throat, except it doesn't because he doesn't have a heart anymore, his body is only made out of light and gold, but he knows these people, his soul strains to be with them again —

Subaru screams incoherently as Ferris pushes past him to kneel at the fallen man's side. He presses his hands into the body, but they do not glow, like they did whenever he invoked the powers of Healing. Instead, Ferris looks like he's about to throw up on his friend. Reinhard's friend. Julius.

Unconsciously, Reinhard tries to touch them, but the mist dissipates.

"What's the meaning of this, Ἄγριος?" He growls, tone low and threatening, surprising even himself.

"The future," Dionysus replies easily. Reinhard unfurls his clenched palm without meaning to, and Dionysus places the goblet in his hand. "Hm, you're already losing yourself. We'll make a god out of you yet."

The rush of anger dies out in Reinhard as quickly as it came. He rubs his eyes tiredly, trying to return his body to normal.

"It's simpler to just not take a human form," Dionysus suggests. The amused curl in his lips never disappears, as if Reinhard struggling with godhood was entertainment. Perhaps it was, to the God of Theater.

"I don't know how to. No, I don't want to," Reinhard replies. He doesn't feel his heart in his throat anymore, or at least the feeling of it. "The bodies of gods are weird."

"Cheers to that," Dionysus says. Their glasses clinked together. Since when did the elder god summon another goblet of wine? Reinhard doesn't drink out of the one in his hand. Dionysus does. Again.

"You don't get drunk either," Reinhard observes.

"Or maybe I'm always drunk," is Dionysus' cheerful reply.

Reinhard decides to switch the topic to something less meaningless. "That vision you created. What was it?"

"As I said, it's the future. A glimpse of fate, a prophecy, an oracle, a confirmation. Whatever you heroes call it."

"And what do you gods call it?" Reinhard can't help but ask.

"Incompetence," Dionysus laughs while saying, as if sharing a private joke to himself.

Abruptly, Reinhard's anger flares up again. How dare he suggest that the impact of every hero's efforts were equivalent to incompetence? Then he grits his teeth and stuffs the fury down as far as he can and slams a lid unto it, but it burns in his fingertips. Why, why was it so hard to keep his emotions in check around Dionysus?

The god sighs. "Well, I should go. When you need me again, just drink."

What? Reinhard tries to ask, but Dionysus had disappeared, leaving behind only a trace of the smell of grapes. His head becomes both lighter and heavier at the same time. Lighter, because for the first time since talking to the God of Madness, he could feel his feelings again. Heavier, because he really could feel them, and all the grief that he had tucked away liberated itself like a panther unleashed from its cage: beautiful and wild and uncontrollable.

Reinhard shakes his head to clear himself of the thoughts. The goblet of wine was still in his hand, for some reason. Dionysus had said to drink when he was needed again — and he had seemed very sure that he would be — but Reinhard was not going to lug around alcohol in his hand wherever he went.

As if spurred by that thought, the goblet transformed into grapevines and curled itself around his wrist. It was less a bracelet and more of a shackle fettered to nothing, though Reinhard could tell it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, even if fought against by force. He prodded it anyways, and it transformed into a goblet again, still sloshing with wine. He tried to let go of it, or put it down, but it clung stubbornly to his hands.

That might get annoying. Or dangerous, depending on Dionysus' intentions of placing a bounded object on the newest god.

However, there were more important things to worry about than an enchanted emergency contact number digging into his wrist. Namely, that concerning vision Dionysus had shown Reinhard.

How do gods teleport? Reinhard furrows his brow and tries to imagine being somewhere else. When he opens his eyes, he's still standing alone. He thinks back to Dionysus' teleportation. Reinhard could sense the pure power of the god up until the second it squeezed and disappeared. He tries to mimic it — crushing his essence into a tiny ball and replacing it where he felt the presence of his friends.

A blast of force, tearing him apart, then nothing. Then the warmth of Phoebus Apollo, except far lighter, kisses his skin.

Someone gasps. Reinhard opens his eyes.

"Reinhard!" Natsuki Subaru chokes out. "You've been away for so long! You look…" Subaru tilts his head. "Well, you look like you, but you feel more powerful. Like you weren't powerful enough already." Subaru laughs, and Reinhard feels a weight on his shoulders that he hadn't realized was there lifting at his friend's familiar rambling.

Julius is the next to appear, having heard the commotion from his tent. Reinhard exhales a breath of relief when the lavender-haired man was not bleeding anywhere. "Wha— Reinhard? I— Uh — Greetings, God of Hope." Julius bows, and before Reinhard can chide him, rises again with a warm smile. "And my friend."

"Subaru, Julius, I'm glad to see you again. Though, I wasn't aware I was a god of hope," Reinhard says.

Julius observes him. "Of course you are. Your name alone inspires hope in the people. It has been tough lately, without you around. But, nevermind that, we should eat together again. I'll fetch Ferris — he's sleeping in."

Oh. Reinhard didn't notice that it was daybreak. Time had become such a foreign concept, especially because gods didn't need sleep. Reinhard tried to nap anyways. It was comforting, even if unnecessary.

"So, whatcha here for?" Subaru asks as Julius turns away.

Reinhard blinks. "To see my friends again?"

Subaru laughs a bit and slaps his friend on the shoulder. "I'm glad for that, of course. But why now?"

"I haven't been able to figure out teleportation," Reinhard confesses, a bit bashfully. Subaru grins.

"That's just so like you."

"But I tried to do it again after I received some… distressing news. I saw a prophecy. Julius will fall, and though I do not know whether it is to death, it seems likely."

Silence meets Reinhard's words before Subaru chokes out a laugh. "Okay, you think Julius may or may not die soon. Typical Tuesday. Ferris was there, right?" Reinhard nods. "Yeah. Good. Ferris can — will — heal anyone from death. He's the best damn healer there is."

"He tried," Reinhard replies. He opens his mouth, but Julius reappears, scolding a Ferris who drags on his feet. The young healer perks up when he sees Reinhard though.

"Rein! How's playing god?" Ferris pokes Reinhard in the arm. "Woah, your body is all weird. Really weird. Nyo, Julius, he's not hurt or anything. Just, godly, I guess? Weird."

Julius sighs. "If you would go and clean up, Ferris, that would be most appreciated. Let's have fun after, okay? Wait, Reinhard. I want to show you something. I found a new sword — take a look at it!"

Reinhard chuckles, but Subaru's expression catches his eye. Then it morphs into something more relaxed. Subaru mouths, I'll tell them later, so don't worry them, okay? Reinhard nods, relieved. Thank you, he mouths back. Please, keep them safe.

Hours later, Reinhard materializes in Olympus again, feeling happy in a way that he hasn't since his ascension. He makes up his mind to visit them everyday, and he does.

Until he can't.

Ferris? Subaru? Desperately, Reinhard reaches out in his mind. Yes, he was a god, but he had formed a sort of patron contract with his former team, caring for them even above. They had a kind of mental bond that Reinhard had learned how to use in order to connect their minds. Julius? Julius.

The prophecy had all but slipped from his mind from the past few days. He had been so happy.

He should've known.

Reinhard van Astrea was never allowed to be happy.

Ferris, please. Where are you guys? Why can't I reach you? Subaru? Julius, Julius, Julius—

He pushes his godly powers, pushes until he sees stars in the corner of his eyes. ANSWER ME.

Then it does, if only partially. His form flickers like a ghost, and he yells warnings but no sound comes out of his mouth.

"Damn, Julius! Break their lines! I'll cover you!" Ferris shouts. They are in the midst of a battle, in a camp of cultists. Reinhard knows. It's a scene he has seen before.

Julius, rainbow light bouncing off his silvery armour, charges inside with determination. No, Reinhard tries to say, behind you—

Julius isn't dumb. He's a good warrior. His spirits appear and shower the ambushers appearing from thin air in light. All of the sudden, the light fails. Julius turns around in surprise, sword already at the ready, concern for his spirits dancing in his eyes. Reinhard admires the kindness of his friend, really, but please, please focus on yourself.

It doesn't matter what Reinhard tries to say in the end.

He can only watch as a curved blade slams itself into Julius's shoulder. Reinhard could feel the curses imbued in the blade even while being in such a weak form. Julius fights back, and the cultist falls to the ground as his heart is pierced by a glowing saber. Glowing. Not brimming with light like it should've been.

The damage has been done. Julius staggers back as blood gushes out from the single wound, far more than should've happened. He tries to staunch the wound, but it doesn't matter. His lovely hair is covered in thick blood. It doesn't matter.

No, Reinhard breathes, and prays to all the gods he knows. He doesn't pray to himself. He knows it's pointless, he knows it doesn't matter, he prays anyways.

"JULIUS!" The guttural scream from Subaru cracks. "I warned you, I warned you, Reinhard warned you for the love of the gods, Julius, you are going to stay awake, and you are going to live."

Ferris runs to Julius' side just then, exactly as in the vision. He places his hands on his friend's body. He doesn't do anything.

He knows it's pointless, too.

"That curse— it— I can't heal—" Ferris' words are in a gasping breath. "Why is he losing so much blood?"

Reinhard wants to turn away. He doesn't. He will see the battle to the end. He will give his blessings and they will win.

It doesn't really matter, in the end.

They fight until the last cultist drops dead, and Ferris doesn't leave Julius' side. Reinhard feels his power ebbing away into nothingness, and he prays over his friends one last time before he is pulled away from the scene.

Reinhard appears in his room. His godly one, not the familiar, ever-changing tents filled with random knickknacks found throughout his journey. He curls inward and cries.

He nearly wants to laugh, but it would come out manic, no doubt. He knew what would happen, and what had he done about it?

A goblet clangs as he slams his fist on the floor. It doesn't break; neither of the objects break even though Reinhard pushed his full power into that punch. Godly items, right?

Wait. A goblet. Wine.

He can't get drunk. Reinhard doesn't know why, Ferris had given some stupid explanation like his body physique and muscle mass. It doesn't matter, it's still pointless.

He tilts the drink back and pours it down his throat.

Immediately, he chokes. Not that the wine is bad — it isn't, Reinhard just can't taste anything other than the ichor in his mouth as he bites his cheek too hard — the sudden smell of grapes is just overwhelming.

"I used to be a mortal too, you know," someone mutters. "Or, well, as mortal as one can be when their ascended is written in their blood and bones."

Reinhard fights back a sob. "Dionysus."

The God of Wine mock bows. "The one and only. Not really, depending on your interpretation of my myths, actually."

"Dimetor," Reinhard mumbles. "Twice-born."

Dionysus shrugs and summons another goblet of wine into existence. "Drink, friend."

"I will not. I cannot sully their memories of me like that."

"I don't get it, but suit yourself." The elder god sips his wine in an exaggerated way. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

Dionysus snorts. "Too bad. I'm the God of Madness, you know. But also of freeing oneself of burdens. You are used to prophecies, aren't you, little quester? You know they can never be prevented. That's why you didn't try harder."

"You are cruel."

"All gods are cruel, friend. That is the meaning of our existence. We long to be what we can never be — free from the constraints of prophecy and fate. But we will watch all that we love fade away, eventually. Even immortals fade from what you remember them as."

Reinhard shudders as he inhales. "And you'll live like that?"

"Until the end of eternity. As shall you," Dionysus replies. "You sure you don't want to drink?"

Ignoring the extended goblet, Reinhard says, "I hate prophecies."

Dionysus hums thoughtfully. "Most people say that, unless they've been living a long time. Then they start to appreciate the prophecies for what they are: a heads-up about how much you're going to suffer in the future." He gives Reinhard a slanted smile.

"No one tries to fight it." It was meant to be a question, but it sounded more accusatory.

"Have you ever?" Dionysus actually laughs. "I watched a bit of your story," he says like Reinhard's entire life was merely a play for the God of Theater to tune in whenever he was bored. "You grew up as a child knowing you are fated to be so much more. You fight alongside people you know you will outgrow. You fight though you know it is pointless, and that your actions are not your own, but rather the orchestrating of forces larger than you. You are a hero. You breathe prophecies, not air, friend."

Reinhard mulls it over for a while. His tears have dried. "I don't agree. That just because it is fated, our actions are meaningless. We do things because we want to, and fate accommodates that most of the time."

Dionysus shrugs again. "Go on living a lie, then. Your soul isn't as frenzied anymore. I shall take my leave."

"Wait." Dionysus pauses at his words. "Thank you," Reinhard says softly. "For trying to help."

The elder god snorts. "One child of prophecy to another. Now, will you sit there and mope, or will you revisit those friends of yours?"

Reinhard smiles instead of replying. The bracelet of grapevine thorns is still wrapped around his wrist. "I think I will."

Chapter Text

"You weren't there."

The words weren't of malice. Rather, they were simply made in exhaustion.

That was worse.

"Ferris—" Reinhard tries, but his words fail him. He takes a breath that he doesn't need, and tries again. "I'm sorry. Gods aren't allowed to interfere too much. I should not have told you about Julius' fate. Fighting prophecies only ever makes things worse."

"Julius' fate?" Ferris asks sharply. "You say that like he's already dead." Reinhard opens his lips but Ferris beats him to the punch. "No. We don't need apologies or explanations, Reinhard. We need help. And we need it quick."

Reinhard clears his throat. "Can I look at him?"

Ferris leads him to the infirmary tent, only pausing to say, "Be careful. He's fighting the curse with nothing but painkillers and his pure will." Then he leaves the god standing alone.

When he enters, he finds Julius laying down on a mattress in the middle of the room. All his other injuries had healed, courtesy of Ferris. Except for a very noticeable bandage covering his shoulder, and his pale face.

"Oh, Julius," Reinhard murmurs as he kneels down beside his friend. His eyebrows are furrowed tightly even in sleep. How much was he suffering? Reinhard puts his palm on Julius' arm, but hesitates to draw on power for godly healing. Healing had never been one of his talents. He knows basic first-aid as a knight, but Ferris was always close by, so Reinhard had never learnt any healing spells.

Still, he owes it to Julius to try. The curse was hard to define, but it seemed to eat away mana. Reinhard would not make any progress with the wound if the curse was not broken first. He concentrates on the source of the curse, and tries to pull it apart.

Julius wheezes and wakes up from his sleep, fist already flying through the air.

Reinhard could've dodged. Godly strength aside, his reflexes are even better than someone trained to the maximum like Julius.

He doesn't. He takes the punch in the face.

It doesn't hurt, even though it feels like it should. His own hands had long been drawn away from Julius, and the cursed wound was all but untouched.

"Reinhard," Julius greets, breathing hard. "Hi."

The god might've laughed, but his nonexistent heart was too somber. "Hello, Julius. How are you feeling?"

"Fine." A dumb answer to an equally dumb question. "Well, not fine," Julius backtracks, "I've been better. But I've also been worse. What are you doing here…?"

Reinhard has to strain his ears to hear because of how hoarse Julius' voice is. "It's okay, you don't have to talk. I was trying to deal with the curse before you woke up. Sorry if I woke you up."

His friend shakes his head. "Ferris?"

"He's not here. I suppose I should've asked him to oversee me trying to heal you, but I get the impression he's not very happy with me right now." Reinhard pauses to think his words over. "Look, Julius, I'm sorry I couldn't prevent this—"

"You tried. Ferris knows that. He'll come around." Julius smiles slightly, but he drops it when he winces in pain.

I didn't, Reinhard wants to say. All I did was give a meaningless warning. He doesn't say anything, though. He knows Julius will argue, and all that talk will just cause him more suffering.

They lapse into silence, the air thick and uncomfortable. Julius is usually the first one to start speaking again, but his teeth are gritted in exertion, though he tries to hide it.

"Let me try again," Reinhard says just to say something, because even before he puts his palms on Julius yet another time, he knows it will fail. Julius' breathing grows more erratic the longer Reinhard tries to find a way to shake off the curse, until it gets so bad he gives up. "Sorry."

How many times has he apologized this conversation? Julius doesn't say anything. "I guess I'll…" Reinhard doesn't actually know what to do. "I guess I'll go."

"Bye," Julius chokes out. He squeezes Reinhard's hand, perhaps trying to say without speaking that he was glad for Reinhard checking up on him.

"Bye," Reinhard echoes, and disappears in a flash of red.

It's only when he stops shaking, he realizes he didn't get a single glimpse of Subaru. Belatedly, he wonders if he should go back, but the Artemis' moon chariot was already high in the sky. So he just sits on the floor of his cold room, shivering; thinking.

He has some awareness that Subaru is alive, but can't reach out to him. Either he was in a place where gods did not reach, or he was deliberately ignoring Reinhard's calls. Friendships between mortals and gods, ones with equal standings at least, were hard to maintain. The god had promised to not invade his friends' privacy, and he kept his promise even now by not forcing his will unto Subaru, even though Reinhard feels worried for his friend.

He thinks of his family left at home. He thinks of Lady Felt, waiting for him to come home victorious. He broke the news of his ascension, and she has ignored him ever since. She never liked the gods. His family would not help.

Ferris didn't want to talk to Reinhard, that was clear. His words earlier had been harsh, but Reinhard knows him well enough to know he's more angry with himself than anything. Doesn't mean he's incorrect, though. Reinhard should have done more for Julius.

Julius…

Reinhard shakes himself to clear his mind. He will find a way to help. There's no way Julius is going to die here. Yet a creeping thought finds its way up Reinhard's spine — what if he's fated to?

That cheery thought just makes Reinhard feel more isolated from his friends than ever.

~

Reinhard walks the winding halls of Olympus. He used to think he had a pretty decent sense of direction, but after wandering aimlessly around for so long, he was forced to face the truth:

Reinhard was utterly lost in the home of gods.

His frustration has been building up for quite a while, and was nearly at the peak. How much of Julius' precious time left had Reinhard wasted? He needs to find something, a library, or maybe a god stronger than Reinhard. Instead, he has spent the better part of the day getting lost.

Running his fingers through his hair only for his hand to fall back down once he remembers who he got the habit from, Reinhard sighs and reviews his location once again. Stone walls and golden pavements, no sign of where he is right now. The same as every single other path Reinhard had walked in the Palace of Olympus.

In the air, he catches a sniff of rams. He had been chasing the smell since forever, hoping to find an outdoor farm or something that could give a hint to his coordinates. Except that the scent just repeatedly led him to empty halls.

Halls in Olympus weren't even supposed to be empty. Gods partied all day. This is so frustrating.

A god is definitely playing a prank on him. Reinhard would pray, but he can't, for the life of him, remember which god is connected to rams. Julius would've known, he had always been well read. The though of his friend makes him feel depressed, so he thinks about the unknown god putting him on a wild goose chase instead. Except for the smell of rams, there were no other clues.

Hmm. Maybe that was a clue in of itself.

The faint sound of laughter chimes all around Reinhard.

Which god would play such an irritating trick? Hades if Reinhard knew. All gods followed their own whims. Who knew which one would be more likely to puppet the newest god around for their amusement.

No, Reinhard did know.

Rams.

"Hermes Kriophoros," Reinhard calls out. "Please, heed me. Have you not yet earned your fill of entertainment? Let me be on my way now, and my friends shall thank you greatly."

For a second, nothing happens. Gods don't really pray to fellow gods, but perhaps as one of the Olympians and a longtime friend of humanity, Hermes expected more?

Before he overthinks it, the smell of rams grows stronger. Wind blows Reinhard's hair away, but he doesn't blink. A smirking god appears, holding a caduceus.

"Follow me, God of Heroes," Hermes intones. "A message has been sent to you." Then the illusion of solemnity breaks, and Hermes grins. He's levitating, Reinhard notices. Reinhard hasn't spent much time around the gods, preferring to stay in the world of mortals with his friends, but Dionysus did not levitate.

Hermes beckons Reinhard, and starts flying somewhere. Reinhard's questioning of whether the god who had just tricked him was really to be trusted was stifled pretty quickly once it was clear Hermes would not wait for Reinhard to catch up.

"You're fast," Hermes tells Reinhard. "I'm the God of Speed, I'd know."

"Thanks?" It's not like Reinhard spent his entire life training the never-seen-before talent that he had since birth or anything. Hermes laughs.

"I hope we meet again, Reinhard. I'd stick around, but I've got jobs to do today, and I've kept my aunt waiting for too long. Farewell, mortal-god!" With that, Hermes disappears into feathers and scales.

Some very interesting statements there, Reinhard notes, but more importantly, where on earth had Hermes left Reinhard? There was nothing in sight for miles—

"I hope Hermes did not trap you for long," a voice says softly. Reinhard blinks and he is standing before a great hearth. Ah, aunt. That's one of Hermes' mysteries solved.

"Goddess Hestia," Reinhard kneels reverently. "Of the sacred fire; of family; of home."

The flame in the hearth glows brighter with Reinhard's words. "Rise, my dear." Reinhard does so, and he sees the goddess sitting by the edge of the fire. The flames do not burn her or her clothes, even though Reinhard can feel the heat searing into his skin from where he stands. It is ancient and powerful; it is homely and hopeful. It is the same warmth that all beings are born with; that all beings serve.

"Hermes does that to all newcomers in the home of Olympus," Hestia says.

"Home," Reinhard mumbles. "Is that what this place is meant to be for me?" Reinhard didn't mean to be so honest, but something in him yearns to please Hestia. She was the oldest of Olympians, and her aura was befitting at that age, but it was also peaceful in a way Reinhard had never known.

Hestia laughs lightly. "It is the only home for most gods. You see, us immortals have nothing but each other to bear with for all eternity. That is why we quarrel so much, and our battles trickle down to the realm of mortals. For that I apologize."

"It's okay," Reinhard answers wonderingly.

The goddess shakes her head sadly. "Your soul does not want to be part of this home. I will not blame you for that."

"I am not welcome down below, either," Reinhard says.

"Is that what you believe?" Within Hestia's eyes is a steady light, one that inspired respect and admiration, but most of all, familial love. It was a walking contradiction: the hearth that receives every grand sacrifice; the home that houses every little soul.

"It is my fate." Reinhard remembers Dionysus' words — Not at home with mortals nor immortals.

The flame of the hearth grow subdued. "My sweet child, you are not between the realms. You are in both of them. You will find family no matter where you go. Will you not rejoice?"

Reinhard thinks the goddess' words over. "Perhaps you are right, but I am not good with connecting with others."

"You find that others are drawn to you instead. It is your power that makes them seek you, but it is your kindness that lets them stay close. You need only have faith, God of Hope," Hestia said with a warm smile that was tinged with sadness.

Huh. "Is that what it's like for you too?" Reinhard asks.

Her smile becomes a bit more genuine. "The hearth is at home with not only the rich officials and famous heroes, but also in the hearts of the smallest and meekest. I will admit, I have lived in this family of gods for so long that I know my faith dwindles from time to time. The Trojan War was not only a tragedy for the warriors, but also between the gods."

Fascinating. The Trojan War was usually described to Reinhard as an epic fight of glory and valor, one that every warrior took pride in being part of. "I think you're my favorite god."

Surprise finds its way to Hestia's face, but she looks delighted. "I thank you for your faith, young one, though I know not what I have done to earn it."

Apart from being the nicest god Reinhard has ever talked to? Some gods were helpful, and some gods weren't, but no god had ever roused such a feeling of hope within Reinhard. He hadn't realized how terrified he had been after Julius got hurt. Though, the second the thought hit Reinhard, he got terrified again.

Hestia must've noticed, for she bade him closer to the fire. Reinhard didn't hesitate though he felt his skin burning. She held him within her arms. "I will send you to Apollo. He will know I did so, and he will help you. Do not despair, child, the spirit of faith within your friend burns strong. The gods will not end his life, but you must be the one to save it."

"Thank you," Reinhard whispers.

"Remember what I said about your family," Hestia says, and presses something into Reinhard's hands. "Go and do what you must."

In a flash, she is nothing but charcoal ash, and Reinhard falls and falls—

He lands in a room with colored light streaming in from stained glass on its windows. The sound of music plays from somewhere. Reinhard's breaths even, though his fists are still clenched tightly.

"Phoebus," Reinhard exhales. Sunlight wraps around his limbs.

"Be still, you are burnt," a voice chides him.

Apollo stands before him, golden and beautiful. He places a hand on Reinhard's forehead and hums.

"Sorry, what exactly are you doing…?"

The God of Healing huffs in amusement. "You are burnt."

"So you mentioned," Reinhard muttered. "But I don't feel burnt."

"Yes, that's because I just healed you," Apollo points out. Reinhard cannot tell what emotions swirl in his eyes. Or maybe that was just the light swirling. He feels a bit overwhelmed by the god in front of him. Apollo brimmed with divinity; it burned through his skin.

As if sensing the thought, the god smiles. "I'm so perfect, aren't I?"

"Considering the amount of titles you hold, definitely," Reinhard agrees. Apollo cocks his head.

"Now that sounded like a backhanded compliment," Apollo says, but he doesn't sound angry. Reinhard isn't sure what he sounds like, except that his voice was the most melodic tune Reinhard had ever heard. Apollo could probably make the most boring mathematics textbook sound enticing. He probably had, as the founder of education.

Wait, why did Reinhard assume that Apollo would sound angry? "That's not what I meant," he exclaims. "It's just, there are so many different stories of you, and you somehow encompass them all while remaining as you. Ah, that didn't make sense. You don't make sense. Uh, no offense." Reinhard winces. He should have thought his words through.

Apollo throws his head back and laughs. Whatever Reinhard was expecting, it wasn't that. "You're funny," the elder god says through his laughter. Reinhard doesn't know what he's laughing at. He decides that the actions of the gods are best to be questioned later.

"I need your help," Reinhard says. He rises to kneel, maybe, but Apollo raises a hand and stops him.

"Speak, then." So he says, but there was a gleam of knowledge in his eyes.

"You already know it, O God of Prophecy and Knowledge. My friend is severely wounded, and I fear that he will not live, without your help, Apollo Acestor."

"The burns of Hestia are worth as much as your word," Apollo muses to himself. "But you are mistaken, friend. Do not beseech me as the God of Prophecy, or Knowledge." He smiles.

What other reason would there be for Apollo to know of Julius' injuries? Reinhard racks his brain for the many domains of the god still standing in front of him. Reinhard has perfect memory and perfect instinct, though Julius far outwits him. It doesn't take long for him to find an answer.

"Apollo Kourotrophos," Reinhard utters. Protector of the young. "Long have you watched us on our quest. I beg you, come to our aid."

"You do not need to beg." Apollo snaps his fingers and a bottle of medicine appears in his hands. "Will you unclench your fist yet?"

With a start, Reinhard realizes that his hands are still balled up. He opens them, feeling a little baffled. On his palm is a lone candle.

"A gift from Hestia," Apollo proclaims. "And now, a gift from me." He puts the bottle into Reinhard's hands. "You will know how to use it when the time comes."

"Thank you, Lord Apollo," Reinhard says, still turning the candle around. "We greatly appreciate it."

"That sounds like you are dismissing yourself," Apollo says with a grin. Like an act dropped, the guise of a physician flies from Apollo, and he just looks like a normal, if extremely handsome, youth. "Accompany me for a while longer."

"I should get back to my friends," Reinhard tries to argue. "Julius' clock is ticking."

"Time is different here."

"Really?"

"Take my word for it."

"Why?"

"'Cus I said so!" Apollo pouts. "Fine, go. But I'll accompany you instead."

"Uh…" Reinhard trails off. Well, no harm done, right? "Sure."

The room brightens and Reinhard forces his eyes shut. "Great!"

"Okay. How do I… leave…"

Apollo laughs loudly. He takes Reinhard by the arm, and then the world is bright brightbright—

"You can open your eyes now," the elder god says in infinite amusement.

"Teleportation is so strange."

Chapter Text

"This is not—" Apollo puts a single finger to Reinhard's lips and shushes him. This is not where Julius and the rest are camping, Reinhard tries to say with his halfhearted glare.

"If we came here, we were meant to come. Now, let's walk."

Walk. One of the most important and powerful gods wanted to walk with him through a bustling city. "Walk. Sure. We're attracting a lot of attention."

Apollo glances at him through the corner of his eye. "I suppose you're handsome too. Fine." His body distorts and turns into a more average civilian. Reinhard looks down on himself to find that he's changed as well.

The sun rises over them. "Don't you have to drive the chariot of dawn?"

"A part of me is doing so. Gods can split their consciousness, after all."

"That sounds painful."

Apollo doesn't answer. He has a glassy look in his eyes.

"What are you thinking about, Apollo?" Reinhard asks.

"Hm? Just watching the common people," Apollo answers. "Don't you think it's interesting how pointless mortal lives are? Gone in a blink."

Reinhard doesn't feel as offended as he probably should, but he defends them anyway. "They're meaningful to us."

Apollo glances at him again. His eyes are bright blue, like a clear sunny sky. Blue is a common eye colour, but it looked so unnatural on Apollo. Perhaps that was why the observant pedestrians paused at looked at the man and saw more than just a man.

He double checks to make sure the illusion is maintaining, and it is. Maybe it's just the way Apollo holds himself, Reinhard thinks. Tall and proud, confident, light steps. Unparalleled gracefulness.

"I forget you've been human longer than god. Your divinity pours out of you, you know," Apollo tells him.

"Funny. I thought the same about you."

Apollo smiles. Something in his personality had shifted since they teleported here. His personality was always shifting, for some reason, but the light in his eyes remained.

"People aren't gawking at us as much as I thought they would," Reinhard notes.

"It's not uncommon for gods to walk through human cities. See that bakery over there? Demeter is a regular. She supplies it with extra good wheat." Reinhard turns where Apollo nods. Even from so far away, he can smell fresh bread.

"Maybe I should get some for Ferris, Julius and Subaru," Reinhard wonders aloud.

"Probably not. You have limited time." Reinhard turns to question the elder god's words, but Apollo mimes zipping his mouth.

They walk in silence until the sun stares down at them.

"They called Achilles Aristos Achaion, Greatest of the Greeks. Perhaps you're the Aristos of this generation," Apollo murmurs. "There. We've reached your destination. It was nice to walk with you. Ah, right, one last thing. Prophecies always come true, but not always the way you expect them to."

The sun burns brighter, twisting around Apollo. His fingers brush against Reinhard's cheeks, and he feels the parts of his body that the elder god had healed reaching out. Light jumps around him happily.

With a final grin, he disappears in a shower of gold.

Reinhard continues walking down the lane. He knows where to go now.

It's easy; far too easy, to slip inside the infirmary tent.

Someone sobs in the middle of the tent, and Reinhard's ichor freezes up. It's too late, he thinks. Julius is already lost.

"Ferris. What's going on." He tries to keep the budding panic from his voice, but the earth itself shakes once Reinhard realizes that Julius is not the only one who is laying slack. Subaru lies beside him, groaning in pain.

Ferris' head snaps up, and his round yellow eyes are puffy and filled with fury. "You," he hisses. "You dare show your face now?"

"I've got medicine from the God of Healing himself," Reinhard says, voice shaking. "What happened to Subaru?"

"He went to the Underworld to find a cure for Julius. Obviously, the realm of Hades is no place for the living. Now Subaru pays the price." Ferris laughs bitterly. "Idiot. Does he think that his life is worth less than Julius'? Not that it did anything, in the end. Idiot."

Reinhard kneels down before the two bodies. To call them bodies made them sound like they were dead, but the truth was, they looked worst than death. "What do you mean by that?"

Ferris sighs. He looks less angry and more exhausted, now. "The cure is incomplete. It needs more ingredients. Except we can't get them, because Subaru put his life at risk but trying to get it, and I have to stay to look after both of them."

Ah.

"Tell me what to do."

Ferris purses his lips. "You are a god. Gods can't interfere. You said so."

It was true, they cannot. Fate bound every being, and gods could see those binds very clearly. That didn't mean they weren't bound. Rather, they were intimately acquainted with their cage.

Still. "I will try."

His friend draws a breath. "Subaru is held by Death. There is nothing that we can do. He must fight it himself."

Reinhard nods. He knows the rules of the Underworld. Hades does not let souls simply leave. Only with the strongest of wills to live again would mortal visitors of the Underworld breathe without the scent of death in their nostrils. Thing is, this was Subaru. Reinhard doesn't doubt his friend, but… Subaru was… he had always been self-sacrificial. Reinhard wishes he paid more attention to it now.

"Julius, though—" Ferris holds up a vial of clear liquid. "Hermes gave this to Subaru—" Reinhard somehow expected this. The god had made his presence known to Reinhard already. "He said that it needed the blessings of four gods — life; death; life and death, and one more that he said would be enlightened to us later on."

Enlightened. The gods sure loved their riddles. Reinhard touches his cheek, exactly where Apollo had made contact earlier. Light bursts out like water from a fountain. Ferris yellow eyes widen in shock.

"That's one way to interpret enlightenment," his friend says after a second. In the glow of golden light, his face looks less burdened, "God of Hope."

Reinhard reaches for the bottle of medicine Apollo had given him earlier. It reflected his light, and he opened the cap.

Reinhard drops the bottle with a gasp.

The light from his body rushes into the bottle, and with it, all the strength in Reinhard's body. His skin is burning. No, not quite. It had already burnt, in the way only immortal godly bodies did. Ichor stems the wound, struggling to ease the injury.

"—ard— Reinhard!"

He is on the ground. Pebbles and torn fabric meets his knees. Ferris cradles his face with a terrified expression.

"Gods," Ferris mutters under his breath. "Never in my life had I felt like such a useless healer."

"Don't say that," Reinhard says back equally subdued. Maybe the reason why he had never pried into Subaru's mental state was because he was surrounded by self-sacrificial people.

Reinhard sighs and opens and closes his palms. Something is wrong with his body.

"Those burns…"

Reinhard glances at his body. The ichor had dried up, and coated a good portion of his skin. Everywhere else was a sore, angry red that crawled everywhere. Ferris prods carefully at the thickened blood, looking grossed out but also fascinated.

Something is wrong in his body.

He holds out the medicine for Ferris, who takes it silently, though his eyes don't leave Reinhard.

"Don't worry, it doesn't hurt," Reinhard tells the healer. "I don't really know how the blood works, though."

Ferris hums. "You look shiny." He turns to appraise the bottle. "This is shiny too."

Reinhard stares at it, feeling something bubbling in his throat.

Gods don't have throats.

Something is gone in his body.

Reinhard throws up ichor.

"My divinity," he gasps, choking on golden blood.

Ferris looks at him with terror. "What do you mean?"

The god (?) tries to summon his powers. Apart from his improved understanding of his domains, gods had general abilities like prophecy and teleportation. Reinhard imagines the same thing as he had done not so long ago — balling his essence up and placing it somewhere else.

He opens his eyes. Ferris is still staring at him.

Desperately, Reinhard uses his fingernails to tear his skin. To his relief, he still bleeds gold. Still a god, then. Just with his powers locked away. Hopefully.

Ferris groans in front of him. Reinhard thinks that his friend has reached his maximum stress capacity for the week. "At least the medicine works," he mutters as he pours it into the clear vial. The vial should overflow, but instead it absorbs the golden light hungrily.

"One god down, three to go."

Ferris groans again. "Please don't say down. It sounds like you died. Anyway, how will you find the gods we need without your goodly power?"

Hermes had said they needed the blessing of the God of Life. There weren't any gods of life, were there? Yet…

If we came here, we were meant to come.

See that bakery over there? Demeter is a regular.

Demeter and Persephone were sometimes worshipped as the goddesses of life. Plus, they had ties to the Underworld; to Hades. The God of the Dead. Not exactly Death, but unless Hermes wanted them to hunt out Thanatos himself, Reinhard should seek Hades.

"Reinhard?"

"I know where to go."

His friend sighs. "Okay. Good luck. I hate dealing with gods. Julius can't hold on for much longer, I can feel his strength weakening. You have to be done in 5 days." He gives back the vial.

Ferris had told him to wash up, and gave him a cloak of his choice. Reinhard had picked the one that smelled like Julius. A reminder that his friend's life was ever in danger, unless Reinhard were to succeed in asking for the blessings of four different gods.

So it was that Reinhard walked the familiar streets of the city. He found his way to the bakery smelling of fresh bread, and entered.

"Welcome!" The attendants called in sync. They hurried about with trays, refilling every pastry that the customers took away like hurricanes. Customers, being mythical creatures. Reinhard supposes that they need food too.

He walks to wherever he feels the strongest pull, and ends up staring at a packet of cereal. Is he supposed to buy it or something? With a shrug, Reinhard purchases it at the counter.

"I didn't expect you to actually buy it," a voice says behind him. Reinhard turns and bows. "Hello, God of Hope. I have been waiting for you."

"Demeter, Goddess of Agriculture, Fertility, and Sacred Law," Reinhard greets.

The goddess smiles, and the room swirls into a field of rice. She bears a slight resemblance to Hestia, Reinhard notices. They were sisters, but he thought gods could change their appearances however they liked. Or maybe the family of Olympians was closer than he thought? Demeter had always been described as a loving mother to Persephone, at least.

"Rarely do people invoke my domain of sacred law," Demeter muses. "Also, you wear the blessings of my sister."

"As in, the burns?"

"What else?" Considering that the burns were, well, burns, they didn't exactly seem like blessings, though it was true that they didn't hurt.

"What do the blessings do?" Reinhard asks Demeter.

"Any god who sees them knows that they are Hestia's. No other god, not even Αἰθαλόεις θεός, marks his chosen ones like that." Αἰθαλόεις θεός, meaning sooty god, was an epithet of Hephaestus, the God of Fire and Blacksmiths. "Do you want them gone?"

Now that he wasn't covered in ichor, the burns didn't look that bad. "I don't mind."

"I do not want to look at them," the goddess decides. She holds out her hand. For a split second, maybe less, Reinhard sees the same burns on Demeter's skin. When her fingers brush his arm, the burns disappear. Both of them.

"She marks all of her family," Demeter answers his unasked question. "Now, to business. What will you give me in exchange for my help?"

"Er." Reinhard didn't think about that. His eternal gratitude probably wasn't enough. What was Reinhard willing to give in exchange for Julius' life?

Almost everything in the universe. "I swear that I will do whatever you require that does not go against my own oaths," Reinhard says.

Demeter tilts her head. "I am θεσμόςam, the legislator. I will not ask you to break the laws you hold yourself to, little hero, but I do not take what is sworn lightly."

Reinhard gulps a bit at the pressure suddenly emitted by the goddess. "I know."

The pressure lifts. "You care a lot about your friends. Then you must understand me." Her eyes flash with light, and for some reason, Reinhard hears Apollo in her. "You must bring my daughter Persephone back to me, permanently."

A feeling of cold washes over Reinhard, turning his ichor into ice, until Demeter's eyes return to normal. He stares at her, wide-eyed, and she smiles grimly in turn.

"Now I send you to the Underworld to fulfil your oath, little hero." Her voice fades into black.

…

Reinhard wakes up with ice still in his veins. He lays on cold stone, with darkness surrounding him. Literally, he can't see anything.

"I see you have awoken," a deep voice intones. It sounds like lost dreams; fulfilment; lamentations.

"Sounds like the cries of the dead," Reinhard mutters. His head hurts.

The voice sighs. "Not the first time I've heard that. To this day, I wonder why my brothers have a voice like thunder and storms, but I don't get the sound of earth."

"Maybe because it's more terrifying to sound like the dead?" Reinhard suggest. "Lord Zeus and Lord Poseidon don't sound like clear skies or calm waves either, right?"

The voice grunts. "Are you going to get up, or will you sink into my earth, godling?"

Reinhard wondered why the gods couldn't just decide on one thing to call Reinhard. Seriously, Hermes had called him a mortal-god, Hestia had called him a child, Apollo had called him the Aristos of this generation, Demeter had called him a little hero, and now Hades was calling him a tiny god.

Reinhard just wants to smile with Julius again. Instead, he is forced to play the games of gods. With a sigh, he gets up and says, "Hades, King of the Underworld, God of the Dead and Riches. I am honoured to be in your presence."

"Honoured, are you? Will you still be honoured when you find out you have consumed pomegranates?" Hades smiles wickedly. With a dawning horror, Reinhard finds that his lips are stained with red.

"What have you done?" Reinhard whispers. "I need to get back — my friend, Julius, he —"

"I know," Hades interrupts. "I know of your little quest, godling, and I know my mother-in-law and sister had sent you here. You promised too much, naive child. She sent you on a hopeless quest. Now you will stay in the realm of the dead forever."

Reinhard grits his teeth, his sleeping powers boiling. How many times will he let a god throw him around? Julius is dying. He's dying, and Reinhard is a useless god, a useless puppet of gods. He thinks back to Julius' pallid face, the unhealing wound in his shoulder. He thinks back to Subaru's groan in agony, his love so strong he travelled to the Underworld to save a friend he argued with every day. He thinks back to Ferris, his anger, his exhaustion, his pain of being the best mortal healer in the world and being forced to watch his best friends die in front of him.

He thinks back to his family at home, never, ever, proud of him. They stitched the fabric of heroic prophecies into his skin and called him theirs, yet shunning him in every way. His grandparents were both heroes; his grandfather hated him and his grandmother was dead because of his existence. His parents were all but dead; his father hated him and was drunk every second of the day and his mother was in a coma because of his existence. The one he called his sister and lady, Felt, hated gods, and he was a god, even though his fellow gods treated him like a plaything.

His family had the audacity to look sad when he had become a god, because his glory was no longer theirs. Or maybe they really did love him, somewhere deep in their hearts, so deep Reinhard could never reach it. That thought made him so angry.

"I refuse. You will allow your wife freedom, and you and your sister will give your blessings," Reinhard snarls. He knows it's a stupid thing to say, but for some reason, he can't control his wrath.

Hades snarls back, baring his teeth. "Do not challenge me, godling. Do you think yourself so powerful that you can beat me in my own house? I would have let you lived peacefully as a pitiful mortal who had been tricked by my sister to cross me. You misunderstand my courtesy as kindness. You shall pay." His eyes paint over with a black as dark as the void.

Reinhard doesn't shirk back to the venom in God of the Dead's voice. His sword is strapped to his side; it never leaves. Reinhard just knows that the legendary Dragon Sword will draw itself against the god. He was the strongest of mortals, and his friend was dying and he couldn't stop it. What else but that love and anger would drive his power to new heights? So what if his godly abilities were locked?

Fight, a voice in him sings. He must fight.

Reinhard freezes.

"Get out of my head!"

His yelp is, embarrassingly, cut off by a sob. Hades' void-eyes blink. "For the love of the gods, I just want my friend to live. Get out of my head."

The battlelust in his veins stops crying out.

"Love of the gods, huh?" A voice says. It sounds suspiciously like his battlelust. "You invoke my love's name."

"Indeed," another voice coos, sweet and lovely. "What business do you have with me, darling?"

"Seriously? How long have you two been following him?" Hades sighs. "I don't have time for this." His shadow absorbs him, and he is gone.

"Brat," the battlelust grumbles. "I bring all these souls to him, and he can't be grateful?"

"He's probably mad that he fell to your teasing, dear," the lovely voice says. "Oh, the shadows are tearing into me. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Aphrodite of Love, Ares of War," Reinhard greets tiredly, even though he can't see them. Rather, their presence surrounds him.

Aphrodite laughs. "How sweet, Ares. The darling addresses the lady first."

"As he should," Ares says, but he doesn't sound as pleased.

"Is there a reason for your visits?" Reinhard asks as politely as he can. He feels drained.

"Poor darling. I suppose we should let you rest." Aphrodite sounds like amused than sympathetic, but Reinhard agrees that he would like some rest.

"Ah, but we must give him some directions first," Ares says. "It is not the God of the Dead that you should seek, but rather Death, and then Life."

Reinhard's exhaustion multiplies tenfold, but he stays standing. Hermes had wanted him to hunt out Thanatos himself after all. "As the prophecy must go, then I shall follow." He wonders where Persephone is. It's not winter, so she shouldn't be in the Underworld, right?

"Good little hero," Aphrodite giggles.

"You wanted to rest, and rest you shall get." Ares laughs with her, and the darkness swallows Reinhard up…

He lies in the embrace of sleep. It's so peaceful. When was the last time Reinhard had truly, completely, rested?

Had he ever?

Or has the burden of being god in human skin always shackled him?

Because he doesn't know rest.

Because even before his ascension, he was not human.

His family knew it, and it had cost them everything.

His friends didn't treat him like an equal, they physically couldn't.

What did he ever owe them?

Reinhard has given so much…

Ferris soaked up his love without ever believing he was worthy of it. He looked so guilty at times, but he was the most honest of Reinhard's companions. His hands of healing had never touched Reinhard in any substantial way, but when he curled into Reinhard, trusting and vulnerable, he had felt healed.

And when he went away, Reinhard remembered that he was not one of them.

Ferris looked at him like he was a god forced to live with mortals, like he truly was, because Ferris was honest to everyone but himself.

Subaru tries to treat Reinhard like an equal. He does it because he knows he would want to be treated like an equal too. Subaru was just like Reinhard, in many ways. So it was easy to accept that simplicity of standing beside someone and not above them. To Subaru, Reinhard was still human, he was bound to the human rules of life and death.

Yet even Subaru understood, somewhere in the hidden depths of his mind, but Reinhard was not.

Subaru looked at him like he was already dead, Subaru's eyes were dark in mourning, because he knew Reinhard was a walking tragedy that could not be human with him.

And Julius…

Julius?

Julius shouldered the burdens of being a hero willingly. He took it from Reinhard and wore it like a second skin. He knew he was inferior to Reinhard, at least according to his beliefs that gods were superior to mortals. Reinhard hated it, Julius was far greater than anything Reinhard could ever be. Reinhard was a fake, his oaths printed into his blood instead of chosen like Julius chose.

Reinhard knew that Julius was the only one who could let Reinhard go when he ascended. Ferris treated him like a mortal god, Subaru like a mortal. Julius like a god.

Reinhard would never be at home there.

Julius looked at him like he was a god, and he still loved him. It wasn't a romantic love, or a brotherly love, or even the way a priest loved their god.

It was just love.

Love he didn't deserve.

Love that he couldn't repay.

Love that he would never understand, love that would die before he did. Love that didn't have a direction, that did not know what monstrosity it was aimed at.

Reinhard could not be at home there. How could he? He was a monster, a god. All gods were cruel.

But here, in the solace of sleep, he could believe he was in a dream. He could pretend he was home. He could pretend he had a family.

(Silly child.)

He could pretend…

(Why pretend when you can just reach out with your bare hands?)

Hands?

His hands were on fire.

Reinhard wakes up screaming.

His hands were still on fire. He tries to put it out.

"This is the first time my cave has seen light," a sleepy voice rumbles. Reinhard is so surprised by it that he momentarily forgets his hands are burning, which makes him realise the flames weren't hot.

"Hypnos," Reinhard says, still reeling. "Am I in the Land of Dreams?"

"Yes, and you're sleeping on my bed," Hypnos replies. At least, Reinhard is pretty sure he said that. Maybe it was just a snore. Reinhard looks down, and sure enough, he's sitting on a bed of ebony.

Wait. "How long has it been?"

"You have slumbered for four days," Hypnos informs him.

By the gods. It's the last day. It's Julius' last day!

"You were tired, so I let you sleep. The light is burning my eyes. Isn't it burning yours?"

"No, it's just burning my hands." Reinhard looks at his hands. His fingers are curled tightly around a candle. Hestia's candle. The wax melts around his index finger like a ring, the fire like a gemstone.

Hypnos sighs. "I suppose you should go on to your quest, no?"

"Really?" Reinhard asks in surprise. "You'll just let me leave?"

"You never truly leave Sleep."

"Thank you, Hypnos," Reinhard says and rises.

"Do not thank me yet. By leaving, you head to Death, my twin Thanatos. You will forever be changed." The voice pauses. "Or you could stay in the Land of Dreams. You will have all that you want. You will have peace at last. I am not like the other gods, I have no glory or advice to offer you. Only eternal rest."

Reinhard sways on his feet. Sleep flutters in the corner of his eyes…

It would be so easy. He's already fallen, he could just lay down…

"I cannot," Reinhard says softly. "I have a friend to save."

"Even if he is destined to die?"

"Even so."

"Even if he is saved, and dies before you of old age?"

"Even so."

Hypnos sighs, or perhaps it is a laugh. "You are full of love, valiant warrior."

"Can I go?"

"Go whenever you are ready."

Reinhard gets up and leaves.

He doesn't know how long he walks, only that the candle in his hands keeps burning. He goes wherever the flame is brightest. He knows it will lead him to its family.

"Hello, deathless one."

Reinhard stops walking. "Thanatos."

A being of death appears. Reinhard does not know how to describe it, but he is not scared.

"Of course you are not scared of your Death," Thanatos says. "You will not die, neither as a mortal nor a god."

"Neither as a mortal nor a god. I feel that often," Reinhard murmurs.

"You must accept that part of yourself, or you'll never find peace." The being flickers, and it turns into Julius, pale and in pain. "The one you seek is on the doorstep of Death. Will you ask me to forsake his soul?"

Reinhard takes a deep breath and faces Thanatos. He clutches the candle wrapped around his index tightly. He has to face the fact that all his mortal friends, family, will die, and he will not. He feels tears prickling in his eyes, but stares at the god's eyes.

"I will not ask you to forsake him. But it is not yet his time to die. Please, let him live to the end of his lifetime. Then you can take his soul, as you must."

"Death is merciless," Thanatos says.

"And I do not ask you to show him mercy. Death is the end of all natural things." He looks into Thanatos' yellow eyes, or rather, Julius'. "This death of his is not natural."

Julius disappears and the form solidifies into Subaru's. "How about this man?"

Tears drip down Reinhard's face. "If— If he cannot fight for his life, then he must die," Reinhard chokes out. The candlelight flickers sadly.

Thanatos tilts his head. "You will not beg." It should sound like a fact, but it is questioning instead.

"No," Reinhard says. "If he dies, his soul is yours to take. He took to trip to the Land of the Dead, and that is the price he pays. I will not beg. But—" he shudders. "But I want him to live."

"And still you will not beg?"

"Death is merciless, Death is natural."

The form melts again, and this time, it stays as Thanatos. The being does not smile, or offer respect, but when Reinhard holds out the vial, it shimmers with shadows.

"I will send you to the Queen of the Dead, brave one."

Reinhard opens his eyes to see a familiar stone floor. He wipes his eyes and sniffs, then walks. He feels like he is being watched, but he cannot bring himself to speak.

Maybe he should've begged Thanatos to spare Subaru after all.

What if Subaru dies? It will be his fault.

The feeling of being watched increases.

Perhaps Thanatos did not send him to Persephone, but rather a den of monsters, and they will tear Reinhard from limb to limb until Thanatos collects him.

Then again, Thanatos called him deathless.

Perhaps he was being punished for all of eternity, then?

Because his friend could die, and Reinhard would let him.

He is a god before anything else. It was written in his bones. The tales are carved in his heart. It is what he is meant to be.

Yet Subaru had treated him like a mortal.

I'm sorry, Subaru, Reinhard thought. I cannot, will not, save you from Death. You must save yourself.

Right as he thinks those words, the watchful eyes disappear.

"It seems you respect the laws of death even more than I do." In front of him, flowers bloom and wither, and a lady takes form.

"Persephone," Reinhard greets with red eyes. "Goddess of Spring and the Dead."

"You have prevailed in the trials of the Underworld," Persephone acknowledges with a smile. It looks out of place in the darkness of the Underworld, but her sincerity makes the air seem a bit light. Though, it could've just been the scent of flowers.

"I promised your mother that I would bring you back to her permanently. Will you turn me into a flower if I try to fulfil that promise?" He's completely serious. He doesn't want to be a flower.

Persephone laughs, and the Underworld lights up in spots before the shadows return. "I fear that is impossible to do so, even for you."

"Yes, seeing as I am stuck in the Underworld too." Reinhard sighs. "But I will not give up."

The goddess blinks and the flowers wither beneath her feet. "You are stuck? Who told you so?"

"The Master of the Dead?" Now Reinhard is confused. "He fed me pomegranates while I was asleep."

"Did he, now?"

"Yes, my lips are still stained with its red," Reinhard says. Aren't they?

"My child, you are pale as a ghost, bloodless and burnt, but you have not consumed any food of this realm," Persephone tells him. "It is true that your lips are stained with pomegranates, but you have not licked your lips even a single time since your descent."

Huh? "So Hades didn't force-feed me. But how could I not have touched my lips since I fell?"

Persephone looks at him strangely. "Godling, do you usually eat your mouth? Trust me, the pomegranates have not reached your tongue."

"Ah…"

"You truly did not know." The goddess sighs. "You thought you would be stuck in the Underworld forever, and you still went through all that trouble to get some medicine for your friend?"

"I… would try to figure out something?"

"Brave, foolish godling," Persephone says as she reaches out to wipe the red away from Reinhard's lips. "You fight so hard for the ones you love. I pity you so much that I will try to help."

Reinhard blinks. "Thank you? Will you return to your mother forever, then?"

"As I said, that is impossible. You must, as you said, figure out something." She smiles. "Then I will try to cooperate."

Reinhard racks his brain for something, anything. Did Demeter say anything else?

…No, nothing at all.

What about the way she said it?

"My lady, why did your mother sound like Apollo when she told me what to do?"

"Apollo? That Sun God? I'm not sure what you mean. Maybe you imagined it?"

Maybe, but Reinhard wasn't convinced. "If you believed that I hadn't, how would you explain it?"

Persephone taps her chin thoughtfully. "Apollo sounds like Father, since he's the Speaker of his Prophecies, and my mother is Father's sister. They would sound similar. Or, hm, maybe, she was prophecizing that you would complete the quest, but you took it as her assigning the quest."

Reinhard winces at the family tree. Seriously, Zeus? Well, he already knew it, but to hear it spoken so plainly. Prophecies, though…

Prophecies always come true, but not always the way you expect them to.

Was there any loophole in Demeter's prophecy-quest?

Reinhard sighs. Julius and Subaru were the ones good at finding loopholes, not Reinhard.

"Is there any metaphorical way to interpret return?" Reinhard asks Persephone.

She shrugs. "Your quest, no?"

Reinhard stares at the flickering candle. To be honest, he keeps forgetting it's there. Persephone didn't comment on it, but her eyes narrowed.

Reinhard knew why it was flickering. "You're wrong," he mutters. "I don't fight that hard for the ones I love."

"You mean you accepted that your friend's life was in his hands?" Persephone asks boredly. Oh. Is he losing her interest? If he doesn't find a way soon, she might just leave.

Instead of answering, he tries something risky."Do you? Fight hard for those you love?"

Persephone stares at him. "I am a god. I see no reason to love. Either something dies as you blink, or is there until you die yourself. And there is no point in loving something that will exist regardless of whether you care for it or not."

"You see no reason to love," Reinhard mutters softly. "But you still love, don't you?"

"Where are you going with this?"

"I think your mother didn't realize how much she took you for granted before you were gone. I think she didn't realize how much she loved you, and I think she's fighting hard for you now."

Persephone's cold eyes stabbed through him. "And how do you know that?"

"Because my family is the same. Except they didn't fight. They just watched me go."

Her eyes become warmer. "And your friends?"

Reinhard takes a breath. "I would fight from Hades and back for them."

"But you will not fight Death."

"Death isn't something to be fought. It is the balance to life, it is necessary."

Persephone smiles. "What does that say of us immortal gods?"

"That you should learn to fight for what you love no matter for how long."

Persephone laughs, and in the distance, Reinhard can hear the laughter of War and Love, too.

He holds out the vial. Persephone takes his hand instead, and they disappear into flowers.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Reinhard feels the light of Phoebus Apollo.

"My daughter," a familiar voice says softly.

"My mother," Persephone answers.

Beneath Reinhard's feet, flowers bloom and grass hugs them back.

When he blinks, he is back at camp, and the vial shimmers with the scent of plants.

It is not yet time to return to Ferris. He has one more god to find, one more blessing to earn. The one of Life and Death.

Rebirth. Twice-born.

Reinhard holds the burning candle to his bracelet of grapevines.

"That's mean."

Madness pulls at his gut. "Dionysus," Reinhard greets. "Friend."

"I am Dionysus, a god that died, and rose. I know the human rules of life and death." The god steps closer to Reinhard, smelling like grapes. "You who are neither human nor god, you who are bound to prophecy, you seek something of me. What do you offer?"

How dramatic, Reinhard thinks with a smile. Befitting of the God of Theatre. "I offer a correction. I am both human and god. I realized it during the hunt to save my mortal friend — I have a place in the realm of gods, and I would do so much for mortals."

"That's not much of an offering," Dionysus remarks.

"I remember when you called prophecies incompetence," Reinhard recalled.

"What of it?"

"You weren't saying the heroes were incompetent. You were saying the gods were."

Dionysus snorts. "That's right. What, you gonna do something about fate?"

"Not fate," Reinhard replies. "I'm just going to live with my family. Whatever date throws at us, I will stay with my family."

The god quirks a smile. "Not your blood ones, surely?"

"I will try."

"You are hopeless," Dionysus says, but his smile widens. "Utterly foolish."

"Then be foolish with me, brother."

"Gods are cruel."

"Then I will teach you kindness," Reinhard says firmly. "I will teach you how to hope for better things."

Dionysus sighs. "You've changed so much."

Right, Hypnos did tell him he would change after meeting Thanatos. All prophecies come true, in the end. Just not in the way you'd expect.

Reinhard, for the last time, extends the vial to be blessed. It glows gold again, just like the first time it was blessed.

He walks to the infirmary tent.

"Good, you're back. I was starting to think you'd just not show up." Ferris glances at him and sighs as well. How much has Reinhard worried his friends? "You went to the Underworld, didn't you."

"Yeah."

Ferris sighs again. "Subaru made a recovery. He's starting to shake off the influence of Death."

Reinhard smiles in delight. "I'm glad. Here, Ferris."

His friend shakes his head. "You do the honours."

He nods and kneels down beside Julius. He barely has any colour left, and he's sweating a lot. His chest moves only a fraction, like he isn't breathing.

"My friend, you are destined to be so much more. Rise again." Reinhard pours the liquid into Julius mouths. Rather than the man drinking it, it seems to sink into his heart instead, light pulsing and healing.

Gradually, his colour returns. When Reinhard pulls the bandage on his shoulder away, it is just skin.

"Like it never even happened," Reinhard says, amused.

But when Julius breathes deeply and opens his eyes again, filled with health and hope and tender, fragile love and fear, Reinhard knows the journey happened. Reinhard's godly strength returns to him. His family is safe.

The candlelight burns at his fingertips, and in his heart.

Chapter Text

[image ID w/o spacing:

i fear you are thinking of me like a fantasy, love given too freely for what is not real.

i fear you are falling for what is not real.

i fear i love you,

i think im a fantasy,

not real.

forever.

end ID]

Chapter Text

[1: No grave can hold my body down.]

"Dying must have been such a horrible feeling. I can't imagine it."

"How are you doing? Especially after your encounter with the Archbishop of Greed…"

"Thank you for your efforts, Sword Saint-sama. Your sacrifices are worthy of eternal tales."

"I'm glad you were here, my family and I have felt so much safer knowing you would save everyone!"

Reinhard blinks and tries to go through the repetitive motions of speaking. He chokes out a thank you or something like that, but not a single one of this true thoughts comes to light.

Dying didn't feel that bad. In fact, it was nearly peaceful for a second, without any of his five senses picking up on anything. It was truly quiet for the first time in his life. Reinhard had paused in that blanket of bliss for just a second before he pulled it off.

He felt fine, that was the truth. If he doesn't answer the clawing thoughts inside of his mind, it's easy to forget that he died at all. Physically, he is completely unchanged, and, well, everyone knows his body was perfect before, anyway. So he's fine.

(Except, when he closes his eyes, he can imagine the silence still.)

Sacrifices, though?

Other people have sacrificed so much more than him.

Subaru had held Emilia so tightly after she had been freed, and Emilia had flinched, terror in both of their eyes. The wives of Regulus had no emotions in theirs.

Reinhard could not save everyone.

(Blood, blood on the floor.)

The very fact that he was here, in an evacuation center helping Ferris treat the wounded was a testament to that. He tries to smile, so that they can still have a glimmer of hope, even though their city had been destroyed.

(Grandmother? No, no, it was not her. It was just her blood on his hands. No, not her.)

He could taste the ash on his tongue. Why was he allowed to live, when others had sacrificed their lives?

"I can't imagine anything worse."

Eyes of pity followed Reinhard, mourning a death that had already been undone.

There was worse; far worse that had been permanently set in the bloodstained stone of Priestella. Reinhard wishes he could take those burdens. What was the point of all that power in his hands if he could not?

"Reinhard, I'm done here," Ferris says. His eyes are a clammy yellow, but they were hardened. They had seen too much blood, Reinhard thought, as he offered his hand.

"Close your eyes," he says, but Ferris already had. After all, they had been skipping around the city finding evacuation centers for most of the day. "We're here." So they were, in yet another room of terrified and injured people.

Ferris set to work immediately. "Bring the green bottle to me." Reinhard picks a random bottle from Ferris' medical bag — whichever bottle felt right — and handed it to his friend without even looking. It would be green, and the exact one that he wanted. It always was. Reinhard shuffled back so that he wouldn't interfere. Magic always went weird with him around.

"That's the Sword Saint, isn't it?" Someone, a feminine voice, whispers. Reinhard hears it, but he doesn't turn his head. He finds that people usually don't want their whispers heard. He just ensures that there is still a smile on his face. "I heard he died."

Someone to the left of the feminine voice snorts. "He's the Sword Saint, sis. He can't die."

"Obviously, 'cus he's right here. Angela must've been lying."

"Such gossipers, you two. Don't make fun of death like that. It's scary. Not something you can come back from." Unless you're not human, is the unspoken conclusion.

"Reinhard, is there anything left in the box? The one that's sealed," Ferris interrupts. His eyes are still on the young man, who lies unconscious.

Reinhard glances at the medical bag. "There isn't. I can try to find some, if you'd like?"

Ferris curses under his breath. He's been doing that a lot. "No, I already searched for all the remaining ones. If there isn't, I'll just make do without. You should go, though. I'll be here for a while. Pick me up in twenty."

"Okay, I'll see what I can find." Reinhard hesitates, then asks, "Do you want to take a break, Ferris?" The healer snorts, and it sounds a bit hysterical. "There are other healers."

"If I'm not productive, I'm going to go crazy," Ferris mutters, then that's the end of that conversation. "Just go. Avoid the purple-hair guy. He makes you feel sad."

Reinhard opens his mouth to object, then thinks better of it. He does feel sad whenever he thinks about Julius. However, no matter how hard he tries, he just can't remember anything about him. He feels extremely guilty, to have forgotten about someone who looks at him with such pain in his eyes. With a sigh, he walks out of the room faster than sound.

He appears in an empty part of the city, keeping an eye out for any civilians. He knows he shouldn't have left his post like that, but when he breathes without the smell of blood and sweat in the air, he feels a bit better. Did Ferris sense his growing unease and send him away? His friend was considerate to everyone but himself.

He still doesn't feel quite real yet, and he can't remember the feeling of being real, either. Maybe he was always like this, watching a film from in the clouds, unattached to everything, a mere echo of a being strapped to the ground.

Reinhard had barely done anything in the fight, yet he was alive and other people weren't.

(Was he? He can't remember the feeling of being alive.)

(But he can remember the silence of death.)

[2: Caught in a Net]

There was a trader from Lugunica who had traveled to Priestella just before the Witch Cult had arrived. Julius knew that trader. She had given him a a basket of fruits as thanks for helping her. He had tried to reject it, saying that to help the people was his duty as a knight, but she had laughed and pushed it into his hands anyway. Ferris and Reinhard had both been with him at that time.

It had been so long ago, Julius doesn't even remember why they were there, what they had done, or even who the trader was — but the fruits had tasted sweet.

The trader lay amongst the countless dead. Victims of the battle.

What had they ever done to deserve this?

Burials for the dead were necessary, but there were so many of them, and so little people. Be it the lasting impact of Lust or Gluttony, or just injuries from collateral damage thanks to the fights, there wasn't a lot of manpower left. Julius had volunteered to help the understaffed funeral parlor just to occupy himself.

How many people has he buried, he wonders? How many stories lined those dead bodies, how many people grieved for them, how many dreams had been lost? How many of those broken hopes, with his fragile, calloused hands, had he put to rest?

(His very own.)

"You're a good worker, young man." The person next to him sighs. Their hands were covered in grime. "If only we had a couple more of you," they lament. Julius doesn't manage a smile, not even a fake one.

"Would you care to listen to old me?" Julius nods his consent to them. "My son, he was going to be a knight in a faraway city. Said burial work was too depressing. I told him it was needed; the cycle of death never ends, and if he became a knight, death would reach him all the sooner. He said, as long as it was clean, he didn't mind." They sigh again. "His corpse, it was covered in blood, and I—"

The person coughs and looks at their hands. "I wasn't strong enough to bury him, but my hands feel like his grave all the same."

Julius wonders what to say. Condolences had slipped from his lips so many times just today alone, that it no longer had any meaning. Perhaps it never did.

"You would've been a good knight," the person tells Julius, voice trembling like a leaf. "You're brave and kind. Just like he was."

(Lost dreams; broken hopes. A net of grief: the only thing left behind.)

"I was a knight. They've all forgotten." A hollow pang in his chest makes Julius clench his fist tighter. The net of grief is the last thing that strings together an echo of a past life, and it captures them, heart and all, into its protective embrace. Julius isn't dead yet, but he grieves himself all the same. Who else will? "No one, no one else remembers me," he whispers to himself.

When he sees the person's face, Julius wishes he didn't say anything. He had only caused them more pain.

"Go take a break. Better you don't come back anytime soon, you look like the dead, too."

Julius leaves, and doesn't. There is no leaving the graveyard in his hands. There is no leaving the memories behind. Not like everyone else left theirs of him.

He hopes the person didn't see his tears. He doesn't realize he had bitten his lips until he tasted blood. How long has it been since he last drank water?

Eventually, he arrives in front of a building. Julius hadn't meant to go anywhere in particular, but it seemed both cruel and right that his feet would bring him to this building.

He steps inside and finds himself next to a familiar bed.

"Hello, Joshua," Julius says to someone who would never hear him. He doesn't know whether to feel happy or not, that he had forgotten his brother, so that he did not feel the agony that would be his own blood-brother forgetting him instead. As soon as he thinks it, he wants to tear his heart out. How selfish.

He brushes away the familiar purple locks on Joshua's face. He looks so peaceful.

(Don't you wish you were like that, too? A voice in him whispers.)

Julius shuts it out immediately. Suicide was the coward's way out, and Julius was many things, but he was no coward. He had built his dreams one stick at a time, and he was not going to let them burn just because no one remembered that he had any.

(All these victims, all the same. At least they have people like them, asleep beside them. At least they don't walk in a world adapted to their nonexistence. At least they get to be at rest, unaware of everything. Of everyone. Of the way there is a missing part in the universe that no one else sees.)

(But no one remembers them, he whispers back. Not even their own big brother.)

He wonders why he got to keep his consciousness when everyone else didn't. Then again, why did Subaru remember him and all victims of Gluttony? Not that Julius was not grateful. He would never be able to repay the debt of Subaru telling him of his little brother.

(I am going to find a cure.)

Breath touches Joshua's hair, and Julius knows it's his. He cradles his little brother's face. Strange, how perfectly they fit. Stranger still, how Julius still remembered how to love that which he had forgotten.

Only Joshua could bear witness to the cynical smile on Julius' face.

Would his friends, his family, remember that of Julius, too?

[3: Medical Restraints]

"You should take a break, Ferris," a man murmurs gently.

"Go away, Reinhard."

The man shifts. "I'm not— I'm not Reinhard."

Ferris pushes a hint of water magic into his pounding head, and his vision clears up. "Ugh… Ah. Julius, is it?" He asks as though he hadn't spared so much of his precious time trying to figure out who he was. "Something I can help you with?" It was likely a plead to help him. Ferris was no strangers to the victims of Gluttony. After all, he was the first person everyone turned to when it came to comatose or amnesiac people.

(Such lovely green hair, such a kind face. "I'm sorry, who are you?")

Ferris grits his teeth and pushes the memories away, but they keep coming back like an annoying insect.

(Insects, like what Lust created with a wicked smile. Dragons, dragon blood—)

(Matted green hair, corrupted veins, Ferris couldn't do anything about it. Useless, useless, useless.)

"Ferris?" Julius asks softly. He knows what Ferris, or Felix Argyle, prefers to be called, and actually respects it, unlike most of stuffy knights. As well as nobles. (Green hair—) "Are you okay?"

Ferris shoves the memories until his head burns. The person he was healing gasps. Dammit, how could he let himself ruin his focus during such a simple healing spell?

When he finishes healing the person in front of him, who murmurs a thanks, Ferris turns to the man. Dirty hands, like, really dirty, although Ferris' gloves were covered in even more disgusting stuff, so he couldn't judge. Yellow eyes, a shade lighter than Ferris', dragged down by eye bags, and Ferris thinks he sees a smudge of red underneath, too. No visible wounds. He's fine — and still waiting for an answer. "Well. You were the one that approached me."

"No, I'm fine," Julius says at length, but he's lying. "I just wanted to see how you're doing." That was a first. Ferris was a healer, he of all people would be fine.

"I still don't remember you." It's a bit cold, so Ferris adds, "Sorry."

Julius' lips twitch up in a sad mockery of a smile, and Ferris thinks that it would've looked pretty if it were genuine. Ferris likes pretty things. Normally. He doesn't like anything right now. "Don't apologize. I was the one who fell to Gluttony."

"Doubt nyou could've done anything about that," Ferris says, letting some of his accent slip back in. He feels a bit better after healing himself, but it was also true that talking reminded him that not everyone was dead or dying. "That's the cruelty of Gluttony's powers. Anyways, if nyou don't need healing, help me with healing others."

Julius joins him happily. That was probably why he came — to distract himself. Ferris couldn't blame him. He was also distracting himself. It was his actual job, though, so it's fine.

"Hm. Does your affinity lie towards water?" Ferris asks. Julius applies ointment for the less serious wounds that don't need Ferris personal attention, and bandages it skillfully.

"My contracted spirits — used to handle the casting of magic for me," Julius explains, ignoring the way he paused. "If I used magic, I guess it would? Or perhaps wind."

Ah. Now that Ferris looks for it, he can sense the bubbles of magic hanging around Julius. "Nyou handle bandages well."

The ghost of a smile returns on Julius' face. "Yes, you taught me. After you scolded me when you realized I focused too much on fighting and not enough on after the fights."

Ferris' mouth forms an O, but he doesn't really know what to say.

"Sorry," Julius says eventually. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with my reminiscing. It must be weird for you to have someone speak of experiences you don't remember."

He wonders why the man was saying sorry for that. "Nyo, really," He continues his previous thread of thought. "If the Archbishop of Gluttony wanted to make you suffer, you can do nothing about it."

"Be that as it may, I was still weak. That Ricardo lost his arm because of me…"

Yeah, it sounds exactly like something Reinhard would say. Ferris huffs in amusement, and Julius looks at him in surprise. "You must be really strong."

Before Julius can reply, a patient shrieks. Any feelings of joy on Ferris' face disappears as he runs over, with Julius on his heels.

The patient's hands fly about, nearly punching a child beside them, who looked close to tears. "I don't — I didn't do anything, I swear! I just tried to hold mama's hand—"

"It's okay," Julius soothes. "We're here." He places a hand on the child's back as Ferris checks over the patient's body.

"There's nothing wrong," he reports.

"Nothing wrong?" Julius questions incredulously. Her eyes are bloodshot and dart around the room.

"No—" Her fist collides with Ferris' head before he can dodge. "Julius, restrain her, will you? I need to get closer." A bunch of other healers hover around them, drawn by the ruckus. Ferris shakes his head at them.

Julius pats the sniffing child's head once more before his hands quickly subdue the woman's. She thrashes about underneath him. Ferris places his palm on her cheek. Truly, there was nothing wrong with her physically. It was a purely mental thing, probably an instinctive response to what her mind had perceived as someone attempting to harm her.

"I'll just put her back to sleep," he says.

"No!" The child blurts. "Please, mama just woke up." The lady squirms and kicks Ferris, who winces.

"She'll wake up better," he promises.

"She'll be okay?" The child's eyes are so round. Well, Ferris isn't sure about okay. Victims of heavy trauma tended to never be okay again. That one was not a promise he could keep. He could only lie.

"Yeah, so be extra nice to her so she gets better faster, 'kay?" The child sniffs again and nods. The woman falls slack in Julius' grip. When he removes his hand, there are faint prints on her wrist, but it doesn't leave a bruise for Ferris to heal. He doesn't say anything, just watches them sadly.

"C'mon," Ferris mutters. "We've got lots more to do."

[+1: Pinned to the Wall]

"Ah."

Julius stands awkwardly. Reinhard shifts on his feet, just as awkward. Ferris sighs.

"Hello, Julius," Reinhard continues after a pause.

"I'm glad to see you in good health, Reinhard," answers Julius. His eyes flit to Ferris, then to Reinhard, before they find the floor. "I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable. It's okay if you…" He clears his throat, apparently realizing that they weren't doing anything in particular. What should he say? If they don't talk to him? Their knightly virtues wouldn't accept that. If they can't do what he wants them to do and remember him? Pretentious. "I can go," he says instead.

"It's fine, we'd like to know you better again," Reinhard tries, but he looks to Ferris helplessly.

"Ferri-chan is gonna spend the night here. Might as well do it together, nya?"

"It's really okay, I don't want to impose," Julius mumbles.

"Is it? You're not okay. As a doctor, I insist you stay so that I can check up on you." Well, Ferris would not stop Julius from leaving. He really doesn't care all that much right now. Still, his presence might distract Ferris again, and it would make Reinhard feel better. Maybe. Maybe not.

Perhaps Julius senses that Ferris mean his words, because he takes a singular step backwards.

With a speed that hurts Ferris eyes to track, Reinhard pins Julius to the wall. Reinhard's crimson hair falls on Julius' cheek, fluttering to the beat of Julius' breaths.

Ferris wishes he brought popcorn as he observes Julius' neck turn a rather concerning shade of red.

"With all due respect, Julius, you look like you're going to cry at any moment. I don't know what we've been through together, but even without memories of you, I really want to help, okay? Will you let me?" Reinhard asks — begs. Julius' gaze turns from embarrassment (?) to shock on those words. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I have all the power anyone could ever hope for, and I still can't fight against the power of the Witch and remember you. I really am. It must be hard for you even more than it is for me. But I want us to be friends again."

I'm here too, by the way, Ferris thinks about saying, but he'd rather amuse himself with how the red creeps up to Julius' ears as he realizes how closely Reinhard is pressed into him. Seeing from Reinhard's jolt — and his subsequent crash into the adjacent wall — so does he.

"Sorry—" Reinhard ends up in a stutter of apologies.

Ferris laughs, and the two men turn their eyes to him instead of each other. He laughs so hard his knees give out. Reinhard and Julius both make to Ferris to catch him, and thus neither of them move once they notice the other had. Ferris' knees meet the ground, and still he is giggling. He distantly wonders if all the water magic his gate had pumped out was finally getting to him.

Reinhard and Julius share twin looks of exasperation, and Ferris feels his heart flooded with an emotion.

It's happiness, Ferris realizes.

"Well, as Reinhard so passionately displayed, nyou're welcome here, Julius," Ferris says. He really means it. The last couple of days had been hectic, horrifying, and if Ferris were to be honest, draining. He needed that laugh, and he needed the calm composure Julius had even after being forgotten by everyone he knew and loved. It was not like Reinhard's act of valor, or his nervousness that only Ferris — and Julius, his mind whispers — and other people close to him were privy to. It was a balance to Ferris' fury and Reinhard's comfort.

It was real. The steadiness, the earnestness, the grief in Julius' eyes, they were honest.

Ferris wasn't honest; he was a liar.

He wasn't angry at the others, not even Subaru. He just hated himself, and hated himself for hating himself. He just grieved.

Julius gives him a concerned glance. The man was perceptive.

"Nya, just thinking that we would've been close friends." Ferris doesn't use the word friend lightly. The mood sobers, and Ferris decides that he wouldn't allow that. "Seriously, if this is how you two act all the time, it's a wonder Ferri-chan doesn't have gray hairs yet."

"Yes, they are surely a huge burden," Julius plays along with a smile. His eyes are watery, but the smile is genuine.

"They'd ruin Ferri-chan's cuteness!" Ferris agrees, purring slightly.

"I have a few gray hairs," Reinhard says defensively. Ferris narrows his eyes, which is all the warning he gets before Reinhard receives an armful of Ferris poking at his hair.

"I don't believe it," Ferris mutters. "Wouldn't nyou have a Divine Protection to fight against that?"

"I do too," Julius points out. "Have grayed, I mean. Not the Divine Protections." Ferris wrinkles his nose. Maybe he needs to pick a fight with Marcos about the knights' schedules, if it was that strenuous. Then again, Reinhard and Julius were the type to volunteer for extra work. Meanwhile, Ferris exempted himself from the many patrols, as a healer and knight of Crusch.

"Hmph! Nyou two could be bald and nyou'd still be attractive." Ferris stretches and dismisses himself from the search for Reinhard's gray hairs. "Soo~ Sleepover?"

"Okay," Julius says a bit too quickly. When Ferris looks at him, he looks away.

"Okay," Reinhard echoes, though Ferris isn't really sure what he's agreeing to.

He grins, baring his teeth like an evil overlord. "And don't think I'm going to let nyou get away with whatever that was."

"I have no idea what you are talking about." To his credit, Julius has a good poker face. Reinhard does not. Reinhard flushes and mutters under his breath. Too bad for him. The Divine Dragon itself could come down and blast Ferris to bits, and he still would not stop teasing them.

"Oh? Would nyou like Ferris to act it out?" He pounces at Julius with the vehemence of a mabeast, who only sidesteps it gracefully. "But I want us to be friends again!" Reinhard was weak to his puppy eyes. Time to see whether Julius was the same.

Julius' eyes don't look as burdened when he smiles innocently at him, and Reinhard's eyes don't look as depressed when he coughs with a deepening blush. In fact, he looks nearly happy.

As much as Ferris was.

Chapter Text

To Julius, love was like running around blindfolded trying to smell out the sweetest smell. There was an ache in his soul, a gap waiting to be filled. He may not always be good at noticing emotional things — the important ones, at least — but he noticed the gap every day, when he woke up wishing there was someone beside him, only the person was made of mist and fled from Julius' gaze.

It was a strange emotion to describe. Nearly impossible, actually. Julius was loved dearly by his family, what else could he ask for? He was loved by his friends, too. Yet he lived life feeling that there was something unattainable at his fingertips. He couldn't reach it; couldn't even name it. His heart gave a pang whenever he caught a glimpse of that love he so desperately clawed for.

"Nyou should write a diary," Ferris told him when Julius had gotten sick of thinking about the gap in his heart so often, and asked his friend whether it was a medical problem. "No one can make sense of your head but you, Julius."

So he did, and oftentimes the ink on his quill went dry before he could make heads or tails of his own writing. As a child, Julius used to write a lot, poetry bleeding from his fingertips, but it had died out after he got more busy with knightly work. He tried to remember the feeling of pouring one's soul out.

At first the diary was filled with just the menial things — what he had for breakfast, how he had trained that day, things to do tomorrow. Then he started writing about his emotions doing those things. How his friends had made him smile when they ate together. When Reinhard had trained with him, the blades cracking under the pressure of their clashes — they were forbidden to use wooden swords because they kept breaking them accidentally, Julius reminisces then notes down.

Writing diary entries every day did make him feel a little more thoughtful to his life, but the gap was still there. Ferris gave him a dubious look when Julius had asked for more advice.

"I don't know what nyou expect Ferri-chan to do, Julius. Just keep trying? Be more specific? Reread your previous logs and think about what you're missing so badly? I'm a doctor, not a psychiatrist!"

Julius had pointed out that psychiatrists were all but nonexistent, and Ferris had hounded him about why he cared so much about making sense of himself suddenly. Julius caved. He always did when it came to the healer. Ferris had a weird way of making people feel guilty for hiding things from him.

Dear Diary,

Talking to Ferris made me understand that it was perhaps not something I was missing, but someone. He tells me to pay more attention to the way I treat people.

I asked, how are you so knowledgeable about these things? Ferris answered, I live with the woman I love, then he deflected the conversation. Maybe I should have pushed further, but the faint sorrow in his eyes gave me pause, though it was overshadowed by a kind of determination I don't quite know how to describe. I don't understand why, but I think those words will be important in the future.

To 'be more specific' sounds like the direction I want to write this diary in. If I just focus on one particular event of that day, I would surely understand it better as well. That is also the way of the sword, is it not?

Dear Diary,

I think I've reached the limit for my potential with the sword. No matter what I do, I can't break out of this plateau. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I've been trying to observe Reinhard's swordsmanship and trying to apply it to my own, but I suppose the fighting style of the Sword Saint is beyond mortal grasp. None of the books I can find offer any sort of help beyond the advice I already know.

In that sense, all I can do is keep up my training and bond with my spirits. They've been agitated lately, seemingly sensing something different in me. That's only what I can grasp, though. People think of spirits lesser than the Great Ones as child-like, but I believe it is because mortals attempt to use mortal thinking on the spirits, that they cannot understand them.

Ia may not be able to communicate herself to me, but then, neither can I to her. I can only hope that we keep going closer.

That being said, it feels unsatisfactory to drop my focus on the blade and give it to my spirit arts. Whenever Reinhard and I spar together, I envy the swiftness of his footwork, the efficiency of his strikes, the way not a single step goes to waste. Perhaps it's pointless to even think this way, but I hope that one day, I may fight on the same fields as he.

Dear Diary,

Ferris insists that I look between the lines of my entries, whatever that means. He seems more invested in these entries than I am. Still, it's been fascinating trying to articulate my thoughts, so I'd say that I don't regret starting a diary.

I just don't understand what Ferris means by 'self-reflection', but I'm trying to. So I'll be adding a new column to see what I've learnt from writing every day, I suppose.

—

Reading back on yesterday's entry: I think I should try talking to Reinhard more about the way he fights.

[The following entries are covered in correction lines and dots, as if the writer couldn't decide on what to say.]

Dear Diary,

It annoys me whenever Reinhard accepts insults without even blinking. Humility is a trait I greatly admire in him, but he should not tolerate such vile words. A junior knight blamed Reinhard for one of the mistakes he made, and Reinhard just… let it go. Even when the junior knight laughed and asked why he was 'such an obedient dog', Reinhard did not say a word to defend himself. Worse, he… [the sentence is crossed out in frustrated lines.]

It's not that he doesn't care about the jeers. If it were Ferris and his complete lack of respect for others calling slurs on his heritage, I might understand, because Ferris clearly does not allow the words to affect him. Reinhard, on the other hand, is painfully obvious when he is hurt. Now his fists are clenched, now he swallows; his emotions are written on his sleeve, and I can see that he is hurt by the mockery.

So, why, why does he apologize in the face of such vileness? He is the most powerful person in the universe, that I can wholeheartedly believe, but why does he bow down to the worst of humans?

It annoys me endlessly.

He deserves better than this.

—

Reading back on yesterday's entry: I should probably try to confront Reinhard about this, but even I have a hard time accepting why I'm so angry about one interaction. Except, it's not just one, is it? This has been happening for too long.

"Julius, I understand your feelings on this matter, but the case of Junior Knight Bryce is complicated, to say the least." Commander Gildark pinches the bridge of his nose, as was his tick whenever he got stressed.

"You mean to say that his family is one of nobles, don't you?" Julius knows his voice is a touch too biting, so he tries to soften it. "I'm sorry, Commander, but I cannot accept his behaviour. If you must, let him know that it was I, Julius Juukulius, who reported him."

The commander sighs. "We'll do our best to deal with it."

Dear Diary,

I've found that talking to Reinhard makes me feel that gap even more. It's a slight difference, but Ferris was right in recording my feelings every day. I didn't use to pay this much mind to the way people talk to Reinhard, did I? Even if it has annoyed me how easily he accepts it, it has always been, and always will be, his choice in how he wants to deal with it. What right do I have to butt in?

No. I do have a right. I'm his friend, and I want him to be happy. What type of person would it make me if I ignored how insults stab into Reinhard?

—

Reading back on yesterday's entry: With the hope that it'd feel less like a confrontation and more like a concerned friend, I'll try to discuss his actions with Reinhard alone. Ferris may be good at understanding complex emotions, but he's not as gentle in helping others with them. It may seem too much of an ambush if he goes with me.

"I'm sorry for concerning you, Julius," Reinhard says, and Julius wants to tear his hair out. "But I'm really okay. I want to become a stronger person too, so it's better for me to listen to criticisms."

"Those words are not criticisms, they're just abuse wrapped in thinly veiled contempt. Criticism is constructive, it is respectful, and it does not make one feel hurt," Julius replies, trying to keep his tone even.

Reinhard shifts, and Julius realizes he spoke too accusingly. He's lost this battle. There's no way Julius could push when Reinhard looked so uncomfortable. "I'm not hurt."

Liar, is what Julius wants to say, but he collects himself and takes a closer look at Reinhard. He looks guilty, for some reason Julius cannot grasp, but he does not look defensive. He truly believes he had not been hurt by those insults. He has forced himself to believe it.

It was then Julius knew that just a friend could not heal the wounds in Reinhard's heart. They were set too deeply for one that barely met him to see, let alone fix.

Julius tries anyways. He's not good at giving up when he really wants something. "As long as you are happy, then I am too, Reinhard. But you're not."

"I'm okay."

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that. Tell me you're okay, and I'll be fine, and we can move on from this conversation."

Reinhard doesn't.

The gap in Julius' heart grows. It feels suffocating. He wishes he could hold Reinhard's sky blue gaze in his and see not a single hint of sadness. He wants to spar with a Reinhard that is not holding back; he wants to keep up with him. He wants to tell him, see, I've been there all along, please, trust me. He wants to fall to his knees and show Reinhard that he really does care, but that he has walked through life knowing that there was someone he wanted by his side that would never be there if Reinhard didn't let him in. He wants to drag away Reinhard from his throne of Divine Protections and chains, as much as he wants to be on there with him. He wants Reinhard to love himself as much as Julius loves him —

(Does he?)

— He wants Reinhard to be his as much as Julius was Reinhard's.

— But when Julius looks at Reinhard, his hands open and pleasing, Reinhard's doors are shut.

Dear Diary,

I made Reinhard sad, and I think there is no guilt worse in the world. I'm trying to write it all down, but, I can't understand what I feel. I can't understand at all. I've been looking at entries from a long time ago instead, wondering if I've always seen Reinhard this way.

Maybe I have. Maybe I didn't fall in love in the grand ways poets write about. Maybe I did, maybe it was at first sight, when I was staring down at my hands trying not to look at the man who shined greater than the sun. It's ironic how often Reinhard is attributed to the sun. I found this in an entry from when I was still a knight-in-training:

If Reinhard were the sun, then I was the faraway moon, imitating his light, hungering to be closer but unable to be.

I guess it's not incorrect.

If Reinhard were the unbreakable mountains, towering high, then I was the clouds, shifting and breaking, drifting through the peak for a glimpse of the ice-cold snow on top, without ever settling.

If Reinhard were the endless oceans, restless and tranquil at the same time, then I was the beach, itching to have the waves tearing through my skin. Marvelling as I am torn apart to sink to the ocean's depths.

If Reinhard were the vast sky, boundless, both restrained and vast, I would be the pitiful astronomer, stuck on the foundations of the soil to only ever wax lyrical about its beauty.

If Reinhard were the core of humanity, I must surely be the worst human of all, to think about my friend in this way. To want him to know the pieces of my soul, without treating him like he has one.

[The following lines are illegible, smudged with tears. The last sentence:]

I'm sorry. I love you.

"And here I thought Julius would remain oblivious forever," Ferris purred. "But I suppose when nyou want to do something, nyou really do get it done."

"I don't know what you mean,* Julius says miserably.

Ferris snorts. "I'm saying that you learnt how to confront your emotions now after ignoring them so much. I'm saying that you can always achieve what you want if you try hard enough."

Julius thinks it over. "I've taken the blindfold off, and found the source of the sweet smell. Found the gap in my soul, and it's shaped a bit like Reinhard."

Ferris laughs, apparently finding his analogy funny. It probably was, but Julius was too busy thinking.

"But sometimes even if you find the sweet smell, you can only realize that it's off limits. Destined to be for something greater than you."

"Nah, Ferri-chan thinks that Reinhard isn't reserved for anyone but nyou." His eyes have the same sadness as when he had said, I live with the woman I love. Maybe that was why he noticed the look of longing on Julius' face so easily. He saw it everyday in the mirror.

"How do you know that?"

Ferris doesn't answer, sighing. "So dumb, Julius. So blind to how people look at you." For the first time, Julius thinks it isn't just sadness in Ferris' expression, but the slightest bit of jealousy, too.

"I'm sorry if I—"

"Shut it, seriously, you're just as bad as Reinhard when it comes to humility. Don't be sorry for coming to Ferri-chan for help, and don't be sorry when he gives it, doofus. That's what friends are for."

Julius gives Ferris a smile, but his friend was glaring at him as if to challenge him to acknowledge the sentimentality in his words. Julius may welcome challenges, but he likes his life. "I'm nowhere near as bad as Reinhard."

"If only you knew," Ferris grumbled.

Chapter Text

Bonus: 

Chapter Text

"Grandfather, Father finally had the courage to look through your old things. He doesn't want to sell anything, so we're just keeping them around."

Reinhard takes care to not press on the daffodils growing by the side of the grave. "Whenever I see a piece of your old belongings, I feel your eyes still watching us." He doesn't know where it's a benevolent presence or a malevolent one. Grandfather was complex, from the second Reinhard knew him to the last. He doesn't know, but it's Grandfather, so he loves the yellow-stained books and broken jewelry staring at him all the same.

He touches the head of the tombstone, but there is no dust for him to clean. The servants had been diligent. Or maybe Father had taken it upon himself to took after his father's grave, since they didn't do much of that when they were alive.

Reinhard's fingers trail down to the inscriptions on the marble.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF

WILHELM VAN ASTREA

DEVIL OF SWORDS, HUMAN IN DEATH.

It was rare for such an accomplished swordsman to die of old age. Grandfather had been the talk of the town after his death. At least now he laid at rest with Grandmother, the one he loved above all else in the world.

"Bye, Grandfather," Reinhard murmurs to cold stone.

The golden flowers beneath his feet sway to the vibrations of Reinhard walking away. No matter how many times they bloom and wither, they will accompany the grave of the Astrea family until the end of time. There was a kind of peace in that, Reinhard supposed, but he wasn't a poet like Julius.

"How are you feeling?"

Speak of the devil.

"I'm okay, Julius." Reinhard smiles a bit despite himself. Every week he visits the family grave, and every week Julius asks the same thing. Julius gives him the look. Reinhard relents. "I feel a bit more sentimental than normal. I don't know why. Maybe it's because the daffodils are in full bloom today."

His partner doesn't say anything, just slips his hand into Reinhard's. His fingers were more calloused than ever, but the veins in Julius' hands had grown prominent with his age. His hair had grown longer too, now tied in a small ponytail. Julius never had it cut. The way the light purple hair shone, you'd think it would look more feminine, but when paired with his face, it was handsome instead.

Then again, females could be handsome just as much as males could be beautiful. Ferris was walking proof of that. He seemed to be fueled by the spite of people saying that he was too old to be dressing as a girl, because he dressed more like a girl every day. Reinhard is pretty sure he used some of his water magic to make him look younger.

Julius had none of that. Strands of white were weaves in his hair, and faint wrinkles had crawled onto his sculptured face, crinkling whenever he frowned or smiled.

Reinhard loved it. Loved the simple way Julius has been allowed to grow old and seasoned, loved the way he carried the marks of time with grace. Loved the way that his appearance changed but his heart didn't; it was still beating strong and loyal. Reinhard loved Julius, it was as simple as that.

"You're staring," Julius tells him. Amusement dances on his fine features.

"I'm just thinking how much we've changed."

Julius hums and his thumb caresses the edge of Reinhard's palm. If he knew he was doing it, he didn't show it. Most likely, it was done subconsciously. "What do you want to do for the rest of the day?"

It was funny, the way they shouldn't be working but still wanted to, and the way everyone pampered them while doing so. Julius is younger than Marcos back when he was still commander. When the latter had stepped down, the switch to Julius as commander was seamless. Everyone took to it naturally as if that was how it had always been. Except for the small fact that the knights insisted Julius not overwork himself. Marcos included.

That resulted in lenient working hours and days off like today. Reinhard usually took the time to just sit with his family, be it the estate or by the graves. He dragged Julius along because he had a tendency to continue working anyway.

"Reinhard?"

"Whatever you'd like—"

"Rein! There you are!"

Reinhard blinks. "Lady Felt?" He's pretty sure he told her that he was going to the graveyard beforehand. Did something happen—

"Your boyfriend is here too. Good." Julius bows slightly, but they had quickly learnt that she did not tolerate overly passionate greetings. Lady Felt ushers them forward into the mansion. When they announced their relationship, Reinhard got the feeling that his lady was entirely unimpressed. Awesome, now I have two of them. Whatever that meant.

"Is something wrong, my lady?" Reinhard tries to ask.

"Just you and your suffocating courtesy, Rein." Lady Felt stomps up the stairs. Well, that might just be her normal steps. Unless she were to be engaging in thievery, of course. Reinhard follows her without a second thought, and Julius follows Reinhard after a glance.

"I found a box of old stuff belonging to your granddad, Rein. Can't make any sense of it. You two get the job instead." With a grin, Lady Felt pushes them into the room and walks out just as eagerly. "Don't tell your old man I made you do it! Bye, Julius!"

"I guess we've found what to do today?" Julius' lips quirk.

Reinhard shakes his head with a familiar fond exasperation. "She never changes."

"She doesn't," Julius agrees. "No matter her heritage — both her chosen one and by her blood, she acts as she wants. I respect that deeply."

The box clicks open when Reinhard touches it. Inside are parts of armour and weaponry. Most of it was official knightly wear that hadn't been worn by Wilhelm for a long time, which explained why it was in a dingy box and not in the armoury, but some of it was broken or rusted.

"I know that uniform — it's one of the ceremonial captain uniforms," Julius points out. "And that one is another that was revised decades ago. I've only seen it in books before. And this—"

Julius holds out a beautiful locket.

"It's my grandmother's," Reinhard says in awe. He didn't know it existed until a second ago, but it was definitely Grandmother's.

"It's pretty," Julius says. "But I didn't take your grandmother for someone who wore jewelry a lot."

"I wouldn't know," Reinhard admitted, before carefully placing the locket back into the box. "I understand why Lady Felt didn't know what to do with this, but I don't, either."

Julius' eyes are drawn to something. Reinhard cranes his neck over Julius' shoulder to see. He laughs and runs his fingers through Reinhard's hair, so Reinhard places his head on his partner's shoulder.

"Look, there's a hidden compartment." With deft fingers Julius unlocks it, but he pauses before he opens the compartment.

"Go ahead," Reinhard says. Grandfather was gone and could not give permission, but he was not the type to hold material items close to his heart in any case.

Or was he?

Reinhard questions himself when he notices the objects in the compartment. "These are…"

Julius presses a kiss into Reinhard's hair, his lips curved upwards and quivering, as if holding back laughter. "A teddy bear."

"My teddy bear." Reinhard can't help but stare. "All the way from when they still thought that I'd be a normal child. What's it doing here?"

Julius really does laugh then. He picks out some other stuff in the box. "A drawing of your mother?"

The reason that it ended questioningly wasn't because of any doubt that it was a drawing, or that it was of Reinhard's mother. It was because the drawing was so realistic, Julius expected it to climb out of the paper and breathe. Reinhard's toddler work, no doubt.

"I remember this stone!" Reinhard fiddles with the pebble. Julius takes a closer look to see what's special about it — no, it really was just a pebble. A smooth one, sure, but a normal stone found on any sidewalk. "They brought me to a park, and I found a nice stone to give to Grandfather."

The smile on Reinhard lit up his face, making it shine with a warmth Julius felt bubbling in his heart. Without thinking, he curls his arm around Reinhard and pulls him closer.

"What?" Reinhard asks in surprise. "Sorry, did I say something weird?"

"No, nothing like that. You just looked really cute just now," Julius informs his partner with a straight face.

As expected, Reinhard splutters and laughs, rosy-cheeked. Julius smiles. He was so easy to tease. No matter how many times it happened. When he fails to give a coherent response, Julius takes pity on him.

"What's the story behind the hat, then?" It was a worn hat, embroidered with birds. It wasn't a fancy hat, and it wasn't a cheap one. It was just old.

"Generation heirloom," Reinhard readily answers. "I don't know why. It's just there. It was too big for me as a child, and I haven't seen it since."

Huh. Julius picks it up and places it on Reinhard, who blinks at him owlishly. "You're out of character today."

"And you're more swayed by nostalgia than usual," Julius replies. "Or maybe we're just enjoying our free time with good company?"

He doesn't know when his hand drifted to Reinhard's lips, but they were there now. Julius wonders what would happen if Reinhard bit him, and then wonders why he just thought that. It'd leave a scar, probably, but it was only one of many etched on Julius' skin. The scars were stories just as much as the trinkets in the box.

"Am I supposed to kiss you, or?" Reinhard says breathlessly, looking lost. Julius suppresses another laugh.

"I love you."

Reinhard thinks about that for all of three seconds, then leans into Julius without answering. Red coats the tip of his ears. Julius is suddenly aware of his heartbeat.

"I didn't even mean to tease you this time," Julius defends himself. His body is heating up at Reinhard's close proximity. Close is an understatement, actually. They're pressed together so tightly it's a wonder they haven't merged into one being yet.

"—" Reinhard swallows. "I love you too."

Chapter Text

Reinhard wakes up, and knows that today would be a special day. A start. To what, for what, and for whom, Reinhard didn't know, but he felt the air trembling in the wake of something.

Or maybe it was just the stench of alcohol being emitted by the Underboss. (Well, Father. Heinkel Astrea was usually too out of it to care what he was being called. Grandfather was a lot more picky, but somewhere in that bitter, grieving heart was still a man that cared about his family. So Grandfather it was, instead of Boss.)

Grandfather hated it when Father drank, so Reinhard decided to escape the headquarters and the arguing that was bound to happen soon.

He doesn't go out much, but the attempts to stop him are half-hearted at best. If it weren't for his duty to his family, Reinhard thinks he would like to escape the life of crime, permanently. Of course, it was impossible, so Reinhard didn't think about it.

"Uh, do you want me to leave them a message?" A masked person blinks sleepily by the door, but Reinhard would be foolish to think that the pocketed knife was just for show. It could probably be drawn and at Reinhard's throat in a second. Though, as he was the direct heir, such a traitorous act would be repaid ten fold to the person and then some.

How utterly boring. Everyone knows it's impossible to actually hurt Reinhard, anyway.

"It's fine, I'll be back before they realize I'm gone."

"You… what?" Julius rubs his eyes. It's too early for this. He just wanted his morning coffee.

"I'm going to help you catch the Astreas." The man with black hair and interesting eyes. Julius can't read them well. He blames it on his exhaustion.

"Not so loud," he mutters. The walls have eyes and ears, after all. "Who are you, again?"

"Natsuki Subaru, an informant." Subaru grins just as brightly as the first time he introduced himself. It explained absolutely nothing about the situation right now. "And you, Julius Juukulius, are a police officer working to catch the Mafia that's been around since the start of this town." Subaru pauses. "Hey, that rhymes. Anyways, I'm here to help you."

"I'm off duty. It's six in the morning," Julius says as he sighs. "Are you going to say why you know me?"

"I'm an informant," Subaru repeats. "I know information. Like how there is infighting between the Mafia families, how the Underboss of the Astreas is a deadbeat while their Boss is working with another family for his own purposes."

Julius stares into his cup of coffee. It had gone cold. That Heinkel of the Astreas isn't an effective Underboss was a widely spread gossip, and for the last piece of 'information', Julius had no idea whether it was true or false. However, the first fact was confidential and kept within only the specific department working against the Mafia.

Either there was a leakage in the office, or Subaru was part of the Mafia. Julius slipped his hand into his pocket. He may not be on duty, but that wasn't going to stop him from bringing this enigmatic grinning informant into the station.

"Neither!" Subaru squacks out of the blue. Julius gives him a confused look. "Well, I guess not really neither, but I'm not part of them, I swear it!" That really makes no sense, unless Julius was that bad at hiding his thoughts.

Even if Subaru meant it, why would Julius believe him..? Subaru huffs. "Hey, you know Anastasia, right? I do too. Believe me, I just wanna help you."

Wait, he knew Lady Hoshin? Why?

"If I'm going to be honest, the reason why I'm offering is because of my own personal reasons with the Mafia," Subaru continues. That wasn't hard to believe, at least. There were few people that the Astreas had not affected with their large sphere of influence, however indirectly. "Plus, the arrangement benefits you, too. You may not be able to verify all of my claims, but I am truthful when I say them. I'm useful, honest!"

"Be that as it may, I'd still like to bring you to the station," Julius replies, a little dumbstruck. "It's a bit early."

Subaru pouts at him, but it's in a relenting manner. "Sorry. I saw you sitting at the coffee shop and knew you were the person I needed, so I jumped in without thinking. You sure you don't wanna head off immediately, though? The sooner we act, the better." Wow, Subaru was saying it like Julius had already agreed to his proposal. A stranger's outrageous claim, that is.

It was still worth looking into, though, Julius convinced himself. The mission had been at a standstill of late; something, just any hint of a clue, would boost morale at the very least. "Even if I allowed this, which I haven't, by the way, the senior offices have to as well. I'm not very high up on the hierarchy."

Subaru blinks. "Really? You didn't give me that impression. I thought you'd be like, actually, I don't know how the ranks work, but not a junior officer, at least." He grins widely.

"Aren't you supposed to know information?" Julius snarks back. Subaru laughs.

"I'll think we'll be a good team."

"Again, I just met you."

Reinhard walked down the streets. It had been quite a while since he left the headquarters. The sun had risen and almost everyone would be awake by now, which means that the argument would be reaching its climax. He wonders if anyone spotted his absence, but doubted it. It's not like he's needed for anything right now.

He should return soon. Now that there were more people up and about, Reinhard ran a risk of someone recognizing the Astreas' trademark red hair and blue eyes. True, he had a cap on, but you could never be too sure who was watching and what experiences they had.

In addition, Reinhard was sure that it was going to rain soon. The sky was clouded over and it had been chilly all morning. He looks up and looks for patches of blue sky hidden underneath the clouds. There isn't much, as expected.

Just as he looks back down, a gust of cold wind blows, pushing Reinhard's cap off his head.

He could catch it, he supposed, but it was flying rather far, riding the wind into a more populated area. Better Reinhard returned now. It was almost time, anyway —

"Is this yours?"

Reinhard pauses in his tracks. The voice wasn't a familiar one, but it felt like it should be. He turns around. A man with purple hair and sharp yellow eyes has his arm outstretched, Reinhard's cap in his hand. His eyes are observing him a bit too sharply. Another man trails behind him, breathing furiously. He must have ran.

"Yes, it is." Reinhard holds his eye contact with the purple-haired man. "Thank you."

"It's no problem. Are you on a rush to somewhere?" The man asks. The other man behind him looks up, but he doesn't appear to have that same recognition of Reinhard that the former had.

Reinhard should probably make an excuse and leave. He wasn't really on a rush, but his instincts were telling him that staying would change his life forever.

Reinhard trusts his instincts. More than anything else in the world. He also doesn't like his current life.

"Depends. Why?" He asks, smiling a bit. Reinhard has been told that his smile was 'unsettling in the charming sort of way', or maybe it was 'charming in the unsettling sort of way'. He couldn't really remember, but neither man seemed unsettled.

"My friend and I were walking around with no particular destination in mind, but meeting you feels a bit like fate. Maybe we should grab some breakfast together?" The purple-haired man suggests. He sounds like he's being coerced, because his expression is not a happy one.

The black-haired man nods enthusiastically in response, and he seems genuine, for a weird reason that Reinhard does not understand. "I would've started small first, but he really is unnaturally pretty! Get your man, Julius!"

"What?" The two answer, synchronized. Julius shoots the black-haired man a look of pure despair.

"Uh… Why not," Reinhard says. Because really, why not? Reinhard can take anyone in a fight. They must know that too, or at least Julius, because his fingers keep itching to clasp something and underneath the veil in his eyes is hatred. For Reinhard, no doubt. Maybe Julius was hurt by the Astreas once. Is that where Reinhard remembered him from?

They go to a place of the black-haired man, Subaru's, choosing. Which was fine with Reinhard. He might get ambushed if it were a place that Julius had chosen. After spending some time around him, Reinhard found out that Julius was a police officer. They didn't acknowledge it, but it was ingrained in Julius' every movement. Efficient, wary and professional.

The pasta was nice, Reinhard thought.

"The pasta is really nice!" Subaru exclaims. All three of them had ordered the same thing.

"Indeed," Julius agrees.

Subaru preens happily at Julius' words. "See? Told you the place was good."

"Should we get to business, then?" Julius proposes, ignoring Subaru.

"You know, you suck at this thing," Subaru says. "And don't ignore me this time."

"What thing are you referring to, Subaru?"

"The whole infiltrating thing!"

"Seriously, Subaru. We all know each others' intentions. There's no way he hasn't figured it out yet." Just like that, yellow eyes were once again fixed on him.

"Now what? You're going to sock the one and only Sword Saint in the face? Because you will lose, even if you had trained for your entire life, Julius." That's interesting. Reinhard wasn't the only Sword Saint, even if he was the most famous one. More importantly, Subaru implied that Julius was trained. Which makes sense — there are muscles underneath that shirt, Reinhard was sure.

Reinhard watches in fascination as the two exchange their banters. Despite appearances, it wasn't unfriendly. More like, it was an attempt to make Reinhard lower his guard. He only notices because he did relax, however minuscule. "You two must be close friends."

Both of them blanch.

"I would die if I had to talk to Julius more than once a year."

"No, no, we just met today."

Reinhard doesn't know what to make of that, but they weren't lying. "As Julius suggested, to business?" He says instead.

"We want to join the Mafia," Subaru boldly proclaims.

Reinhard stares at him, and Julius does a poor job of pretending he isn't. "No, you don't."

"We want to take down your family?" Subaru offers. He's grinning. Julius is very much not. Reinhard doesn't know where he got the coffee from, but he's chugging it down now.

Subaru's words were… interesting. It was an interesting duo, Reinhard thought. "No… you don't?" Julius' gaze snaps to Reinhard's. Guess he was paying attention after all.

"Oh, yeah, you're gonna help us do it," Subaru affirms.

"No I'm not." Reinhard replies bemusedly. If there was one thing Reinhard couldn't do, it was betray his family.

Subaru leans forward. "Do you like being a criminal?"

"Do you know how easy it would be for me to cave your brain in?"

Quick as thought, Julius pulls Subaru away and slams his hand on the table. It cracks. Subaru shakes his head firmly at his maybe-friend. "But you won't," he insists. "There's a reason why even though you're the strongest human around, you don't do anything for the Mafia except for stand around and be a pretty, intimidating face."

"I could prove you wrong right now," Reinhard says softly. There is a gleam in Subaru's eye, saying, but you wouldn't, and he was right — Reinhard wouldn't, and it shows when he sags downwards into the chair.

"Why?" Julius blurts. He must've been surprised by Reinhard not fitting into the mold he created for the infamous heir of the Astreas.

"We're in public. And, I can't be bothered," Reinhard answers.

"You can't be bothered," Julius repeats. There is a wildfire of fury raging behind his narrowed eyes. Reinhard stares at it without flinching.

"Tell me, Julius. Do you fight us because it is right, or do you fight us because we have wronged one that you love?"

Julius twitches slightly, but he remains a confident face. "The fact that you wrong anyone at all is not right."

"The Astreas are my family," Reinhard answers, a tad of resignation in his voice. "I will fight whoever I must, no matter what is morally permissible, if you dare to wrong them." He stands up. "Now, your time is up."

Julius' eyes widen, but Subaru looks unsurprised. Then he sighs and looks at the device in Reinhard's hands. "You made my emotions burst so that you could contact your family?" Julius spits.

"We will meet again," Reinhard says. People leap out from the shadows as Julius stands up. He doesn't so much as flinch when he slams his fist into someone's ribcage. Subaru drags him under the table when guns start firing. "Leave them alive!" Reinhard orders. The guns pause, just for a millisecond, and one of the gunmen falls, then another. Julius has a laser focus in his eyes.

It's futile, anyway, Reinhard thinks. It's always futile when it comes to the Astreas.

Julius' head burns. His wrists, too. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened. "Subaru?" He rasps. It was insane that their mission was approved so quickly, but even Lady Anastasia had said Subaru was trustworthy. After the bout in the restaurant, Julius wasn't so sure.

There was a groaning from the floor. "Ow ow owowowow. That never stops hurting." What a weird thing to say, but Julius figures Subaru got a concussion or something. He observes the room they're locked in — no sunlight, chains around their hands and legs. Julius checks for anything he can use to free them. Nothing, of course. Subaru is bound on the opposite end. They're lucky that they're not gagged.

Footsteps sound outside as Subaru continues cursing under his breath. Reinhard appears. "I see you're awake." Subaru was right, the man really was unnaturally beautiful, because even with blood splattered on his cheeks, he still had a magnetic aura. It was a pity, Julius thought. In another world, Reinhard could've been the greatest hero, one that was intuitively sought.

(Was that a life better than one where he was the worst enemy to make, the one that was intuitively feared?)

He opens the cell and walks inside. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you some questions." Julius' gaze is drawn to the knife in Reinhard's hands, making the man look at it too. "I'm hoping I won't have to use that, but they gave it to me. In fact—" He tosses the knife, and it lands behind him. "There. I just want to talk, promise."

"Are you human?"

The voice from Subaru startles the both of them. He stares at Reinhard with glassy eyes. Definitely a concussion.

Reinhard must have decided that he wanted to answer honestly. "I don't know."

"I see." Subaru shakes his chains. "We could help you. We want to. Give you another chance to live your life freely. Without the Mafia, without the fame, without the blood on your hands."

"Why are you so stubborn on that matter?" Reinhard seems genuinely puzzled. "I will not abandon my family to the gallows while I sit in jail. I will die with them if I have to."

Julius grits his teeth. He wants to speak out, but he must find a plan instead. Even if Subaru talking landed them in a cell wherever the Astrea headquarters were, he had to continue talking.

"Help us escape, Reinhard." Subaru should sound like he's pleading for his life, but he sounds like he's pleading for Reinhard's life instead.

"I can't help you with that, I'm sorry."

"Okay. Just tell me one thing. Why are you still here?"

That was an easy question, Reinhard thought. "Where else do I have to go?"

Subaru shifts his position, trying to find a comfortable one where there was not. "That's that, then. Ask away."

There was no way out of the chains. "You two are foolish to have tried to talk to me."

Reinhard was right. It was a completely stupid plan. It was Subaru's. Julius was also at fault for following it, though.

"I wouldn't say that. We're bonding right now, aren't we?" Subaru offers cheerfully. Reinhard frowns like he can't understand Subaru, and neither does Julius, if he were to be honest.

Julius didn't really know what to do about the fact that Subaru was more disturbing than the heir of the famed Astrea family itself. As if that wasn't the highest bar possible.

Reinhard tilts his inhumanely beautiful head. Subaru grins. "Hey, wanna know a secret?"

"Not really," Reinhard says.

Subaru continues as if the man hadn't said anything. "I think that you have lied to yourself about who you are so much that you've forgotten who you want to be. Doesn't it mess with your head, the way you live?"

"The person you want me to be does not exist."

Julius is inclined to agree. There is a detachment in Reinhard's eyes. He has seen it before. It's the look a killer has. Once you end enough lives with your hand, you stop remembering the meaning in living. Julius would know. He's an officer, but he's a fighter, first and foremost.

(Do you fight because it is right? Or because your loved one have been wronged?)

"Wanna know another secret?"

No one replies.

"I like chocolate."

Everyone stares at Subaru.

"You'd think it's such a trivial thing that it doesn't matter, right? But it's the smallest passions in life that makes it worth living. You aren't going to walk through every day and have a life-changing event. No, it's always the tiny details that cling on to your soul. And I think you lack that, Reinhard. You lack appreciation for the way the sun rises, the pinky promises you catch in the corner of your eye between two kids, the conversations you can't hear that are held in fits of laughter, the blooming of flowers during springtime. You don't need to live for your family or for yourself. You live for the world as part of the world."

"I like chocolate too," Reinhard says.

The walls explode. Reinhard turns around and catches a thrown dagger, then twists out of the way when a barrage of bullets fly towards him. With a speed Julius can't even track, he dispatches the assassins.

Someone crouches beside them and breaks the chains. Subaru gets up and stretches. "Aight. Come on, Julius."

Reinhard doesn't chase after them even though he definitely could. Julius doesn't know how he's standing even after all of that, but he's completely unharmed.

Subaru pulls at his sleeve to hurry him along. "Bye, Reinhard. We'll meet again."

Chapter Text

The Sword Devil stood waiting at the entrance. Julius and Subaru crouched behind one of the hallways, blood on their knuckles.

"What now?" Julius whispers.

"We can't talk to Wilhelm. Not now, at least. He'll slice our heads right off for harming his family," Subaru whispers back. That was obvious. Subaru seemed to be waiting for something, but Julius didn't know what. Or maybe it was who?

A flash of red appears from another room. Julius instinctively raises his gun, but Subaru holds his hand down. Reinhard steps out and his eyes immediately find yellow and black. They narrow.

"Grandfather," Reinhard calls out. Julius curses in his head. This was it. Reinhard was going to inform Wilhelm of their presence. There was no way they could defeat either one of the Astreas on their own, and definitely not both at once. There was no one around for miles. If the people who had released Julius and Subaru were still around, they were dead. Hopefully, they had some common sense and escaped with their bodies intact.

Subaru seems in a similar state of anxiety, even though Julius can't really tell what he's muttering under his breath, softer than the buzzing of bees. "What if my words only convinced him to stay even more? What if I have to do this again?"

"Reinhard. Is the threat contained?"

"Grandfather, I tire of this farce. Of waking up everyday with the smell of thick wine in my nostrils and the echoes of screams in my ears. I'm tired of all the lives I have seen destroyed, and I am tired of not caring."

Wilhelm stares at his grandson. His underling. "What is the meaning of this?"

Subaru continues muttering anxiously. "Idiot, if you wanted to leave, you should just have left. Who is fast enough to catch you? But that isn't how you work."

"I'm leaving the Mafia. This life isn't for me."

The Boss of the Astreas flares up, and the clang of their swords, drawn faster than sound, speak louder than any words ever could.

There is wrath in Wilhelm's eyes, but there is fear, too. Grief.

"Let's go," Subaru mutters. "Let them sort this out."

Subaru drags him to the door Wilhelm had abandoned, then to a car, and proceeds to break several speed limits. Julius wonders if he should give Subaru a speeding ticket, just to spite him.

They drive in silence until Julius can't break it anymore.

"It was unexpectedly easy to escape," Julius tries to ease the tension.

Subaru gives him a sidelong glance. "'Course it was. I was with you."

Right. Julius should learn to stop questioning this person. Everything that comes out of his mouth was utter gibberish. Julius does not learn. "What on earth possessed you to do this?"

"Gotta be more specific, man. I did lots of things today that you might not approve of. Then again, how many people did you kill today? Does your moral code approve of that?" Julius frowns.

"My job is to put down criminals, and I didn't aim to kill. Now stop deflecting. The fact that you wandered to where Reinhard was in the morning wasn't a coincidence, right?"

Subaru hums but keeps his eyes on the road. That was good, Julius supposed, but it was also annoying, because now he can't read Subaru at all. "If it was, would you be less suspicious of me?"

"Depends," Julius replies. "Would you be telling me the truth?"

Subaru huffs. "No. But I can't tell you how I got the information."

Okay. Fine. Lady Anastasia had warned him that Subaru was a total weirdo when it came to his secrets. "What exactly was your plan?"

Subaru shoots him another irritated look, and the car swerves a bit before Subaru steers it back on the road with mild panic. "What was yours when you bought him lunch? You should've known that he would call for his reinforcements!"

Julius did know. "What else was I supposed to do, let him go? Besides, you chose the restaurant. I had faith that you at least knew the employees or something, that you would get help."

For some reason, Subaru looks surprised at this. It just makes Julius more annoyed. "As you said, we are partners now, I am obligated to trust you. We have the same goal."

"Er…"

They did have the same goal, right?

"I mean, I didn't let you down. I told them where the Astrea home base was in exchange for letting us do our lil' mission. Wait, don't kill me! I only knew not long ago, and it was necessary for us to sneak in, y'know?"

"No, I don't know," Julius replies flatly. Why did he accept this job again? "I only know that you could have prevented a lot of deaths and injuries had you straightaway got them to blow the building up."

Subaru snorts. "How brutal of you. Dunno if you realized, but 'prevented a lot of deaths' and 'blow the building up' don't belong in the same sentence. 'Sides, Reinhard could have taken care of any explosives. He's the biggest threat in taking down the Astreas, you know that. It was necessary that we got through him first so that he would join our side."

"Joining our side is a bit far," Julius mutters with a tone of resignation.

Subaru just grins. "Looks like you've noticed."

Notice what, you may ask?

That the Subaru had driven the car right back to the Astrea headquarters.

Subaru steps out of the car with a victorious smirk. "C'mon. We have one scary pretty and pretty scary red-head to pick up." The building was blocked with police people and many warning signs, but Subaru stole Julius' police badge and reported that they were on official business.

Unexpectedly, Reinhard really was waiting for them. He wasn't hard to spot, but no one dared to approach him.

"He's just been standing there. Refused arrest. Knocked out everyone who tried to use force," one of the officers told Julius. "You could try to talk to him, but I'm not sure it'll work."

Julius sighs. "We'll handle it." Definitely. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.

When they walk closer, Julius notes that Reinhard's black shirt had blood on it. Did he actually hurt his grandfather, after all that talk about family?

"We'll get you out of this," Subaru promised. "But you have to trust us. Can you do that?"

Reinhard smiles, and it was nearly gentle. "Okay."

Really? Just like that? Julius would, at this point, call out TRAP and run for his life, but he stayed put. Subaru flashes him a grin.

After much contemplation, Julius sat with Reinhard in the back seats. He didn't want to let Reinhard out of his sight, and he didn't trust Reinhard in the passenger seat next to Subaru, who was driving again. The driver was designated so because Julius had a feeling that Subaru should not be next to Reinhard, or next thing you'll know, they would be the best of buds ready to die for one another. That was a headache Julius didn't need on top of all the other Subaru and Reinhard shaped headaches. He made Subaru swear to drive to the police station, which would hopefully be the end of the headaches.

"What happened with your grandfather?" Julius asks after a while. He doesn't want to talk to Reinhard, but maybe he could get some information out of him.

"Not my grandfather anymore. I told him that he could pretend I died in the ambush, and that when he counted his family, he could count one less." Julius doesn't know what expression he's making, but it makes Reinhard add, "He's fine. He never liked me anyway, after what happened with Grandmother."

Grandmother…?

"The previous Sword Saint," Reinhard elaborates, though it only creates even more questions.

"I didn't know there was another. Is it a generational thing?"

Reinhard shrugs. "I don't know, I never found out. I guess so. It's a codename of sorts, given to the champion of the Astreas, but Grandfather was the Devil to Grandmother's Saint, and Father is…" He pauses with an unreadable look. "Anyways, the title fell on me, their only son."

Julius tries to think of the history of the Astreas. He can't remember any women who might've been the head of the family.

"She died not long after I was born," Reinhard answers Julius' unasked question. "And my Grandfather wanted to keep her death under wraps, so her life was erased from any records too."

"Oh." Julius doesn't know what to say. "Are you… allowed to tell me this?"

"No. I don't know. They hate me now. It doesn't matter whether I tell you or not. I'll be hunted down for life anyways."

"… So why did you do it?" Julius asks carefully. "Why did you leave?"

Reinhard doesn't answer for a long time, just stares outside the window. Julius didn't even notice it, but it was raining now.

He doesn't seem to want to say anything, so Julius lets the matter rest. The patter of rain is so loud that Julius barely hears what Reinhard says next.

"I'd rather be dead than living in a life that is not mine."

Julius knows that look. It's the look of those who do something heinous and turn themselves in. Surprisingly, there are many such people. They always have the same hardened despair and acceptance — both at once. Like knowing there is nothing left that is meaningful in your life, so you may as well spend it in jail or not at all.

Julius doesn't know why he thinks about it for so long. Reinhard should be the epitome of everything he's ever hated. The crimes done by his family, by him, were innumerable, they were, but the emotion is his eyes could only be described as nonexistent, lifeless. He should be the murderer, but he looked like the victim.

"I remember you now," Reinhard says suddenly. "You were there when the Astreas and another Mafia, the Witches, were fighting. Weren't you?"

Julius wants to be angry that he just only realized, but he can't be. He remembers that night — he and his family were just walking outside. Existing. Only it was in the wrong place, in the wrong time.

"When we were running from the gunfire, a flash grenade was thrown in our direction. My brother is chronically ill. He had a bad day, that's why we were relaxing outside when no one was around. He hit his head so hard that he's in a coma now."

Truly, Joshua had the worst of luck.

That was the turning point of Julius life. The second he decided that he wouldn't be another child letting the world push him around, doing as he pleased just to feel he had control over things he did not. "Because of that incident—" To say it was a mere incident made Julius taste something bitter in his throat. That night was also the turning point of Joshua's life, in a completely different way.

He should've gotten to grown up like other children. No matter the diseases in his body, he would have. Joshua was strong, even as a kid. "That's why I became an enforced of the law. You people took his future from my brother. I'll never forgive that."

Reinhard closes his eyes. "I'm sorry."

The worst thing is that he really was sorry.

Julius opens his palm and finds blood on his fingernails. Of course he got hurt escaping from the Astreas; of course he's hurt himself. Cresent marks bleed from his palm.

"Are you okay?" Reinhard whispers. The stain on his shirt has gotten darker, Julius realizes. It wasn't obvious earlier, with the dark lighting.

"Are you?"

Reinhard gives a wry, self-depreciating smile. "You shouldn't be asking me that."

Julius really shouldn't be. Reinhard is strong. He's the strongest. His strength is the only thing there is to him that Julius knows of. Reinhard van Astrea does not have any passions. At least if he had hatred or anger, it would mean he felt, but while Julius was burning with it, Reinhard was empty. A shell of a human that watches the world burn around him.

"You're hurt," Julius says hoarsely. "Aren't you. There's no way you got away from the fight with the Sword Devil unscathed. I thought the blood was from Wilhelm, but…"

"I'm fine," Reinhard says.

"Show me."

"You shouldn't care," Reinhard repeats. "You hate me."

Hate. Julius hates the way the Mafia corrupt everything they touch. He hates the way the they always get away with their wrongdoings. He hates the way Joshua will never be okay again, even if he heals.

He hates the way they corrupt everything they touch, and he hates the soulless look in Reinhard's azure eyes.

Julius breathes out. "I hate the atrocities caused by you and your family's hands. But I do not hate you more than I hate those atrocities. That would be hypocritical."

Reinhard's lips twitch. "Don't pity me."

"I don't. I just think that if you hate the people who create harm more than the harm itself, there is nothing stopping you from doing the same harm to those people you hate. And I refuse to stoop that low."

"If you kill me, you could get compensation for your brother. You could hurt the Astreas in the way they hurt you, by robbing them of their family."

Was this man serious? Was he trying to convince Julius to kill him?

No, he was trying to convince him to let him die, Julius thinks with his gut sinking. His wound…

"That is not compensation. We will never receive compensation, not me nor my brother, for the time we have wasted. What you propose is revenge, prolonging the cycle. Subaru, you need to turn to Ferris' place."

Subaru, who had remained silent until then — dammit, how could Julius not notice, he was so talkative — startled. "Uh. Sure."

"You know where Ferris lives?"

"Who's Ferris again?"

Something is wrong here, isn't it? "Subaru, pull over, I'm going to drive."

"What? Why?" Despite his grumbles, Subaru really does stop the car once there's an opportunity. Another bad sign.

When he steps out of the car, Julius scans Subaru for injuries. No visible ones, but the smell of blood wasn't just from Reinhard, was it? Speaking of him, Julius turns his head to spot the red-head. Thankfully, he was still in his seat. If he left, there was really nothing either of them could do to stop him, injuries or no.

"Subaru, lift up your shirt."

Subaru stares at Julius like he's grown a second head. "No, you pervert." Julius considers punching him, but this isn't really the time. They weren't far from Ferris' house, though. Hopefully he was in. It was hard to tell with the rain still pouring, but the sun was getting low.

Julius steps into the driver's seat without badgering Subaru further. They had no medical supplies, anyways. He'll just have to give himself a speeding ticket later.

Ferris blinks at them groggily from the door of his apartment room. Did he really just wake up?

"Ferris, please, can you help us?"

Ferris rubs his eyes a bit too violently. He has his nightcap on his head, because of course he wears one to sleep. "Seriously, Julius? Again?"

Reinhard waits patiently beside a rapidly paling Subaru.

"It's urgent, and the hospitals won't just accept…" Julius trails off. Right. How does he explain that he just brought one of the most wanted criminals in the city to his friend's doorstep? Maybe he should've thought this through.

Ferris squints at Reinhard. "Ohhhh. Okay. Ferri-chan isn't cheap, though."

"Of course not." Ferris' services are cheaper than the hospitals, though it was a low bar. Healthcare was expensive. At least Julius had a 10% friends and family discount with Ferris.

"Hi," Subaru says. "You're pretty."

"He's a guy," Julius informs Subaru.

Subaru gawks. Ferris sighs.

"C'mon, let me take a look at those wounds." He yanks up Subaru's shirt the second the door closes. How did Ferris immediately notice, Julius couldn't say. There was a gigantic bruise on Subaru's chest.

"Hmm. Must be painful." Ferris pokes it, making Subaru yelp like a headless chicken. "Doesn't seem deep to me though. Sit down for a bit, I'll check on you later."

Subaru groans but does as told. "Julius, is your friend trustworthy?"

"Yes, without a doubt," Julius answers. "He's just a little rough around the edges."

Ferris grumbles as he inspects Reinhard next. "You have no idea how much med school costs. I'm dirt broke and you still treat me like a walking clinic."

"I'm sorry, Ferris, honestly, for springing this unto you."

His friend sighs. "No, don't be. Look at these wounds. If you had brought this guy to anyone else, he'd either be dead or in prison for life." Ferris shoots him a questioning look at that, as if to say, why didn't you?

Which was a fine question. One that Julius would not answer right now.

Ferris was right (as he usually was about medical issues), the injuries on Reinhard looked pretty bad. As in, bleeding uncontrollably. Those were deep wounds. The red-head looks like he's rather be anywhere else, but lets Ferris handle him without fuss. Unlike Subaru, who's still tossing around in pain.

"Are you hurt, Julius?" Ferris asks. Julius shakes his head; he didn't receive any major wounds. "Okay. Go tend to the other guy. This one will take time."

"The other guy?" Subaru mutters as Julius searches through Ferris' rack of medicine. He only has basic first aid knowledge, but he knows how to treat a bruise. Right?

"By the way, thanks for trusting me and stuff but I'm probably still gonna call the police, you know?" Ferris says. His hands deftly dance around Reinhard's bloodied chest.

"I'm police," Julius points out.

"You suck at your job."

That was mean. Julius only had himself to blame, though. "Subaru, you're fine now."

"Hurts like hell," Subaru mumbles. He curls around himself until it causes him pain, then he lays down, and it causes him pain again.

"The painkillers will kick in soon. Just try to bear with it for now, okay?"

"Sooo~ Julius, about that police call?"

"You won't do it?"

Ferris wraps up the last of the skin on Reinhard's now mummified torso. "Explain the situation first."

"We met Reinhard in the streets, and he captured us into the Astreas' base. Subaru somehow tipped the police off to the address, and they busted us out, but Subaru pulled Reinhard along when we left."

"And you allowed it?"

Julius thinks hard until he settles with a simple, "It's complicated."

"About that," Reinhard speaks for the first time since entering. "You seem entirely too calm for this, Mr. Ferris."

"Oh, yeah, I've probably helped out some of your kind before."

Julius stumbles in a roll of bandages, which promptly unrolls itself on the floor. "You what?"

"I told you, I'm broke. Broke and talented, but still broke. If someone pays, I'm not going to question it."

"Even if that money isn't theirs?" Julius sounds hurt. He is hurt. One of his best friends is a Mafia associate.

"It's nothing that serious. I don't turn away people who need help, okay? I make them give me all their money and stuff so that the only thing they own is their lives that I've healed with my own hands," Ferris says defensively. Julius is starting to think that everyone around him has a screw loose.

"Okay. Okay. I'm not going to lose my head over this. Okay. So you aren't calling the police?"

Ferris snorts. "Where do you think you're going to hide a criminal anyway? There are cameras in my apartment block, you know. And this guy here is a bit too attractive for his own good."

Julius pulls Subaru to his feet.

"I'm no upstanding citizen, but I'm not dumb enough to be that deep in," Ferris says, hands on his phone. "You get 5 minutes."

"You're a hypocrite all the way through," Julius mutters with a small smile. Ferris sticks his tongue out.

"So I guess we're living life on the run now? Fun." Subaru stretches before he recoils in pain.

"You don't need to," Reinhard says. His expression is one of complete confusion. "I can just leave by myself. You can say I forced you to help me, and that'll be that."

Julius thinks about it. He may have saved the life of a criminal, but he wasn't obligated to throw away his own for him.

*I'm going," Subaru declares. "I'm bored of this city, and you can keep me safe."

"Safe from what?" Julius asks.

"I'm an informant and I know too much stuff. You think I'm totally crazy, don't you? Some people think I'll actually be useful." Subaru laughs. "Idiots."

"You are," Julius says honestly. "You are useful. I don't know what you've gone through and how much you hurt, but you do a lot that I think many people can't see."

Subaru is slack-jawed with silence, so Julius turns to Reinhard. "I'll tie up the loose ends here. Subaru, please make sure he doesn't turn into a mass murderer. It'll be on my conscience forever."

"As it should be." Ferris yawns, not particularly interested in the conversation or how many laws they were breaking. "Nyou really just gonna let them go, huh?"

"I'll turn over a new leaf," Reinhard promises. "No more crime. I'll try to use my strength for good."

Julius' lips curve into a smile. "I just have a good feeling," he says to Ferris. The pair of the most peculiar people Julius has ever had the pleasure of meeting turn to the door. "And Reinhard?"

The no-longer-heir of the Astreas turns to him, flickering lights illuminating his beautiful face.

"Find happiness out there."

Chapter Text

You weren't made for anyone to hold.

The skies in your eyes are the temple that houses a god,

(Even one of tears, of a lost soul)

Does the people's faith crush your heart?

Does their love mend the cracks, or does it pull them apart?

Tell me; tell me so that I can stop your fall from grace

(Tell me because you are my sacred place

My hope, my doom, my future, my past

And I cannot bear to watch you turn to dust.)

(Even if I fear it is because of my very own hands.)

Being a god must be cruel; your songs of valor just another brand,

But you are mine, so I'll follow you until the depths of hell—

So that when my ashes fall,

May you rise up from them.

Chapter Text

Was Subaru a Witch Cultist?

Reinhard couldn't help but stare at his retreating form. To claim to be from further east, to ask for a silver-haired half-elf, to have that dark hair and eyes and odd clothing, to not know who the Sword Saint was, to have that thick miasma cradling his soul — each of those these would be uncommon on their own, but added together was highly suspicious.

The man was not lying, that was obvious. Reinhard did not detect any sort of illness or injury that would denote amnesia either. The only thing peculiar about Subaru's body, apart from his physical appearance and attire, was the Witch's Scent.

In that case, sometimes the correct answer was the simplest one…

Hm. Was Subaru truly from beyond the Great Waterfall? Then what was that about the half-elf? Just a coincidence?

The Sword God remained silent but watchful in Reinhard's head, a presence only he could sense. Somehow he felt amusement from the entity watching over him. He has had It in his brain since he was two, and Reinhard still did not understand the god, or even how It existed. Was It some kind of ancient spirit? Then why couldn't magic users sense the mana?

Whatever It was, It never said, just observed Reinhard's life, occasionally emitting an emotion, most commonly disdain or amusement. For example, that time a younger Reinhard wondered if he should send offerings to the god, the echo of laughter rang inside his head for days. He had taken it as a no, but every so often, he had felt something equivalent to a hand brushing his hair, saying something like never before in my existence has that happened. So that was that.

Reinhard never claimed to understand the greater powers ruling his own life.

In the midst of reminiscing, his instinct told him something. What that was, Reinhard wasn't sure, but he followed it dutifully as if it were a sign from above. When his gut stopped pulling him around, Reinhard wandered aimlessly, helping a cat from a tree and returning it to its owner before the instinct started again.

That was why he was in the slums.

How was he to explain this if anyone questioned him? 'I had a feeling, so I followed my heart.' Would that be enough to counter the hostile stares of inhabitants here? Eyes followed him, even more than usual. His clothes were expensive, but it was more that everyone, even those of no education and contact with the inner city knew who the Sword Saint was.

Reinhard is careful to walk slowly and his hands slack by his sides. His reflexes wanted to find refuge from the animosity in the hilt of his sword, but he did not touch it. It may make the residents fear a battle, and that was not necessary.

The air shifts, slightly. Reinhard could smell something divine on it. Someone with a Divine Protection was in the slums? That was… rare.

"Help—" a voice drifts on the wind, inaudible to all but the sharpest ears, and maybe even not then. Reinhard's hearing may be the only one good enough to catch the words. "Please, help."

Abandoning all caution, Reinhard starts to run in the direction of the voice. He feels wary eyes multiplying on his figure, but he does not pay them any mind.

There. A young girl with golden hair running.

"Please help," she yells, dashing with a speed that Reinhard couldn't help but admire. He slows in his tracks to a jog more human.

"Understood," Reinhard tells the girl. "I shall help you."

She stares with watery, but determined red eyes. Red eyes, golden hair, blessed. Interesting, Reinhard thought, but he would mull on that later. He had a duty to fulfill.

Just, something in the skies… Something like a smirk, like the threads of fate shifting…

It was Subaru again, Reinhard notices with surprise as he leaps into the air and pierces through the roof. Plus a lady half-elf with silver hair, and an extremely wounded old man. That wasn't good. If there wasn't anyone versed in water magic, Reinhard would have to finish the fight quickly enough to bring the man to a healer.

Their opponent: a woman with short black hair and menacing daggers. She is dangerous, the Sword God's power mutters. She will not die quickly.

"That's enough," Reinhard calls out. The rubble of the wooden roof still falls, ash descending on his shoulders but floating off by themselves. "It seems danger was close at hand, but I'm glad to have arrived in time." He meant it. Subaru did not look well.

"Reinhard?" Subaru says. In his eyes are a completely different emotion than what Reinhard had seen when they met in the alleyway. Reinhard wasn't naive enough to think that he could have someone who did not know and fear his strength, of course, but it was still a little upsetting to hear the awe in Subaru's voice. He was still surprised, though.

“That’s right, Subaru. It’s been very long, has it? Sorry to be late.” He steps closer to the woman, who seemed to have recovered from her shock. “Black hair; black clothes, a curved blade from the north," he notes. "There’s no mistaking it. You’re the ‘Bowel Hunter’, yes?”

Elsa Granhiert. Criminal, murderer, Reinhard's responsibility.

"What's with that super disturbing nickname?!" Subaru whisper-yells. He's gotten over his shock too, and grins at Reinhard.

“It is because of her distinctive method of killing. She’s rather infamous, known to be dangerous even in the capital. Although, she is believed to be just another mercenary," Reinhard explains to Subaru. It seemed he had never heard of her before, which was hard to believe.

Elsa Granhiert smiles, sickeningly sweet. “Reinhard ― the knight among knights, from the line of sword saints. Incredible, to think I’d encounter such interesting opponents, I suppose I’ll have to thank my employer."

So she really is a mercenary. It's not that Reinhard has no respect for the profession, as Julius and Lady Anastasia were aligned with a team of mercenaries, he knew well that they deserved acknowledgement. Who was her employer, though? Reinhard would like to know. “There’s a number of things I’d like to ask you. I recommend you surrender.”

The Bowel Hunter giggles and stares at Reinhard with an overwhelming blood-lust. “You think a starving predator could resist a splendid steak dripping blood?”

There was no way around it, then. "I suppose not. Subaru, can you step back and keep the old man safe? It would help me a lot."

Subaru nods, trying and failing to hide his relief. That was fine. Reinhard was glad he was trusted enough to bring comfort to others. "Yes sir! Be careful, though — she's a monster of a woman!" The Bowel Hunter seems delighted by that description.

“Fortunately, hunting monsters happens to be my specialty," Reinhard says and walks forward. He does not wield a sword; he does not need to. There is war in his blood. You can tear away identity, you can tear away memory, you can tear away his soul and body, but so long as his heart beats, the war sings. The Sword God smiles, sneering at Elsa Granhiert.

He blinks and pushes the battle-lust away with experience. It was simply the Divine Protection of the Sword Saint that compelled his body to fight. It was written in his blood to be a warrior, after all. It does not meant he would fall to its every command.

He blinks, rays of light only he can see twisting around them as the Bowel Hunter swung herself and her dagger towards Reinhard. He did not need to white rays to tell him where to move. He blinks and smiles politely.

"Apologies for this." His leg arches up in a perfect arc and slams into the Bowel Hunter. She flies off the wall gleefully, blood smearing her black outfit.

“You’re as good as the rumors say… No, you’re even better.”

“I’m not sure I can live up to your expectations.”

“Will you not use the sword at your hip? I would love to experience its legendary sharpness.” Elsa Granhiert points to the Dragon Sword. The Sword God laughs. Reinhard glances at his sheathed sword that hadn't budged since he had fought with the Blue Lightning of Vollachia, Cecilus Segmunt.

“This sword can only be drawn when it is necessary. That it has not left its sheath means this is not one of those times," Reinhard elaborates upon shaking his head.

“It seems I’m being looked down on.” The Bowel Hunter tilts her head and smiles, but the Sword God's raucous laughter increases in volume until it pounds on Reinhard's head. Okay, don't blame her for not knowing what she wants, Reinhard admonishes the god.

It was true that Elsa Granhiert was a strong opponent, and while Reinhard did not mind fighting her without weapons, it was not knightly to do so. “I find this judgement rather troubling as well. Therefore―” The Weapon God tunes into his mind, and Reinhard's eyes land on one of the few swords in tact. He picks it up. If the Divine Protection of the Weapon God says that this is the best weapon in his disposal, then he shall use it despite the Weapon God's grumbling. The Sword God shoos It out of Reinhard's mind. “I shall face you with this. Are you dissatisfied?”

“Not at all," the Bowel Hunter coos. "Wonderful, simply wonderful; please, do entertain me!”

Entertainment, Reinhard ponders. Who was the puppet and the puppeteer here?

Moonlight cradles his skin from the hole Reinhard made in the roof. Rays of light show a path to defeating the Bowel Hunter. Reinhard was not the puppeteer, but he was a soldier.

Soldiers fight.

The war in his blood hums with excitement, and Reinhard allows it to guide him without overtaking him. He has experience in this. He knows how to fight, even if it is the only thing he knows. Reinhard reins himself in, letting the mana in the air dance to their own tune instead of his. They nudge themselves towards the half-elf — perhaps she was a Spirit Art User. Which would be well, as she may be able to heal the old man. It also meant that Reinhard had to be careful to not pull the mana towards him.

He blinks and the Bowel Hunter's dagger shatters. Subaru yells a warning, even though Reinhard's gut already pulls him backwards beyond the slash of Elsa Granhiert's other blade. She has a manic grin as she turns to address Subaru, and Reinhard steps closer to protect him.

“I’ve experienced it first hand, after all!” Subaru shouts, which is a bit disturbing, but Reinhard figures he will ask him about it after the fight is over.

The Bowel Hunter circles around him, drawing more blades from what appeared to be thin air. "However, I have more than just two fangs. Shall we start over?”

“Will you be satisfied if I dispossess you of all your weapons?” The Weapon God guided his vision to the weapons held by the Bowel Hunter. Too many.

If the Bowel Hunter was manic earlier, she danced on the line between human and beast now, grinning widely with sharp eyes. “If I lose my fangs, I shall use my claws. If I lose my claws, I shall use my teeth. If I lose my teeth, I shall use my bones. And if I lose my bones, I shall use my life― That is what it means to lust for battle.”

The battle starts again.

He was aware of the mana being drawn somewhere, but only in the way someone was aware of wind blowing. It happened, it was noticed, it was ignored.

Reinhard deflects another slash that turns into a stab midway, feeling pleased by the strength of the Bowel Hunter. Or maybe it was the monsters inside of him that felt pleased. Sometimes Reinhard couldn't tell — but the moments when he did and didn't care were the most terrifying. What if one day, these entities watching over him were to take over his body?

It wasn't like they didn't control enough already. Reinhard was no puppeteer, he was a puppet to the world.

"REINHARD!" Subaru yells, starling Reinhard slightly. "I don't really get it, but do your thing!"

Do his thing, huh? Reinhard smiles despite himself.

"—What will you show me?" Elsa Granhiert asks with a smile as she leaps up like a bird in flight, talons dripping with blood.

"The swordplay of the Astrea family." Reinhard lets his blood sing out, and the blade in his hands sings along. Mana answers his call readily, curling around the sword.

The air trembles in anticipation. The entities watching him fall silent, and above him, the Moon and the Stars continue their stories in the sky.

"The Bowel Hunter, Elsa Granhiert," the woman says as she gives a mock bow, poised like a tiger waiting to pounce. Reinhard decides that it won't be in his direction.

"From the line of the Sword Saints," he says, as is courtesy. The Sword God does not steady his hands, nor does It need to. "Reinhard van Astrea."

He lets the rusted sword in his fingers finish its song, and the world rips itself apart.

For a second, Reinhard greets the sky as the sky, letting it bleed into his eyes. Then he tastes ash and soot on the air, and he is human again.

The worse of the destruction was over. Not a single splinter of wood digs into Reinhard, and indeed, not a drop of blood pours from his skin.

“What do you mean hunting monsters is your specialty, you’re the monster here!* Subaru yelps. His hands are around the old man and the half-elf.

In fact, that single statement hurt Reinhard more than the entire fight. The Sword God's power envelops Reinhard before turning to a figure on the wall. It is a warning, not to attack or defend, but the complete opposite — to do nothing at all.

"Even I get hurt by words like those, Subaru," Reinhard says with a faint smile. He does not disagree; he cannot.

The full blast of moonlight shines down on them now. It is silent and cold. A watchful observer, and nothing more, as always.

Reinhard, without moving, nods to it. Whatever is fated.

The sword trembled in his hands. "I pushed you too far. Rest easy now," Reinhard says honestly. The Weapon God's blessing pulses as the blade crumbles into nothing.

Subaru and the half-elf converse, relieved. Reinhard wants to warn them that the fight is not as over as it seems to be, but even justice and kindness bow down to fate.

"I’ve got my limbs too of course, and there’s no knife sticking out of my back nor is there a massive hole in my stomach!” Reinhard heads Subaru say. He certainly had an imagination.

Was that it?

The Moon would not answer, but the fragrance of a Divine Protection once again crept into the air.

“You speak as though you’ve actually experienced such things," the half-elf replies. Ah. They have more to do together. The fragrance was closer now, and Reinhard understands he has a bigger part to play, too.

"Speaking of which, Reinhard. I haven’t thanked you yet. You seriously saved me. There was that time in the alley too, you must have heard my heart cry out, friend," Subaru tells Reinhard warmly.

“I would be rather proud if I could do that, friend.” Friend. Was that what they were now?

The word tasted nice on Reinhard's tongue. How many friends does he have? Less than the count of on hand, that was for sure.

He smiles, actually happy. He has another friend. That's what Subaru meant, right?

Reinhard hopes it was genuine. The Sword God sneers beside Reinhard, saying something like one a hopeless romantic, the other a hopeless loner.

That's not fair, Reinhard really didn't have many chances to socialise with people. Powerful godly entities not included within 'people'. Grandmother was lucky to have a family, a friend, and Grandfather.

The girl with red eyes and golden hair pokes in from the destroyed entrance.

"She was running around the alleys desperately. She then asked for my help. It was thanks to her that I was able to come here," Reinhard explains. "After that, I just did my duty as a knight.”

Subaru's mouth forms a circle, but he doesn't say anything about the girl. "A knight’s duty, huh. Does that include leveling old buildings?”

Ah, the building. Reinhard would pay out of his own salary, of course, but he did not know the owner of this loothouse. The old man, maybe? He was still unconscious, but Reinhard had noted that he was healed. Maybe he should write a letter of apology? He really is sorry.

"That girl is…" the half-elf (Reinhard should really learn their names, it's getting awkward calling them 'young girl', 'half-elf', and 'old man') says, but Subaru interjects.

“Time out, time out. We’d most likely be dead if she hadn’t called Reinhard, you know? So out of consideration for my face, please spare her the ice sculpture punishment.”

“I wouldn’t be that violent. Also, out of consideration for your face…?”

"The rest depends on my negotiation, huh… That’s completely unreliable!”

“What’s the matter with you all of a sudden? You’re all flustered and it’s reeeeally disgraceful."

Honestly, their conversation was completely nonsensical to Reinhard, so he steps away with a smile and walks to the young girl. That was the plan, at least.

Reinhard's instincts flare up again. He'd nearly forgotten. "Subaru!" It's already too late, but Reinhard dashes over anyway. Just because it's written in the Stars doesn't mean he likes it. That's his friend.

Elsa Granhiert slashes Subaru in the guts. He's quick enough to protect the half-elf and use a club to defend his stomach, but is it enough?

Bloodlust pours into the air, making Reinhard want to choke and breathe it all in at the same time. "That's enough, Elsa!"

She throws her crushed dagger towards him without turning, and it curves around him without Reinhard blinking. "Someday, I shall slice open the bellies of everyone in this room. So until then, do take good care of your bowels," she declared and leaps into the night, Stars protecting her.

There was no point chasing after he, so Reinhard bends down beside Subaru instead.

“Hey, are you alright?! That was far too reckless.”

“Y-Yeeeah… T-That was nothing. That was exactly the time to act reckless, ya know? I was the only one who could move, and I knew right away where she would strike.” Subaru laughs weakly, clutching his stomach. “She’s really gone this time, right?”

“My apologies, Subaru," Reinhard says immediately. He means it. It's his fault. He knew she was there— "This happened because of my negligence. If you weren’t there, the outcome would have been much worse. If anything were to happen to her, I…”

“Stop stop stop stop! Don’t say another word! I’ve been acting pretty pompous thus far, if I leave even that part to someone else I won’t be rewarded.”

Subaru grins at them and makes a weird gesture with his fingers. Reinhard tilts his head and asks the godly beings in the air if they understand, but no one answers, as is usually custom whenever he actively seeks them out.

Where is Subaru from…?

"I want to know your name," Subaru asks the lady in return for saving her life.

"Emilia," she says after a giggle. "Just Emilia."

"At any rate," Reinhard says after a pause. "I'm glad you're okay, Subaru."

"Yeah," he agrees. He pokes the club. "That goodness this thing was there." He pokes it again.

The club splits cleanly in half, and they all fall into silence.

Reinhard stares at his new friend's stomach with his own gut sinking.

"Oh," is all Subaru manages as he watches a red line form on his skin.

Reinhard doesn't quite curse at the Moon. He doesn't curse, but if he could, he would curse at himself.

It was one thing to not immediately chase after the Bowel Hunter. It was another to let her, get again, harm his friend, in front of his eyes.

What a failure of a knight he was.

Distantly, Lady Emilia twirls the mana in the air until they heal Subaru. Reinhard can't do anything. Despite having all the Divine Protections anyone could possibly ever need, he couldn't do anything.

The only person to blame for his inadequacies were himself, he knows, but he wishes he could do more. Instead, his presence will only serve to distract Lady Emilia and her Spirit Arts.

"I've finished his treatment," Lady Emilia says.

"That's splendid news," Reinhard says in relief. He steps briskly to her and drops to his knee, sword before him and his head bowed down, as knightly etiquette dictated. "Due to my inadequacy, I have caused you a great deal of anxiety. I shall accept any punishment for this failure.”

There is a beat of silence. The skies do not interfere, and the fragrance of divinity stays in the air.

"You know, I don’t really understand why you people are like that.”

“Huh?”

“You came to save us from danger, and somehow settled things without anyone dying. Despite this, you’re now trying to take responsibility for all the pain and suffering that occurred in the process.” Lady Emilia pouts. Did Reinhard make her uncomfortable by putting her on the spot? Maybe she needed more time to think. A knight's debt was of high value, a knight's apology even higher.

She points to Subaru. "Isn't he a lot more straightforward? He does something, then asks for a reward. Even though he didn't really ask for much." Lady Emilia taps her chin. "Uh, anyway, thanks for helping us. That's all. No punishments, you did nothing wrong in my book, but if you can't accept that, just do better next time, okay?"

Reinhard widens his eyes slightly. She was kind. Down to the core of her heart. The kindness that leads someone to refuse the Sword Saint. "…Thank you."

She was better than him. Reinhard felt it in his soul. It only served as another pointer than she was one of the Candidates.

They talked for a bit, mostly about how Reinhard arrived. Of course, the conversation brought up the young girl who still leaned against the doorway, watching them.

"Lady Emilia, she…"

"Reinhard. You’ve been a great help. I’m grateful that you saved us. But I have one more request, don’t interfere any further.” Lady Emilia turns towards the suddenly sweating girl. "Is the old man your family?"

Reinhard hides his surprised smile. Kind, to her core.

“S-Something like that. To me, old man Rom is my only… Yeah, something like a grandpa I guess.”

“I see. I’ve only got one family member too. He’s always asleep when it matters, I could never say that sort of thing while he’s awake, though.” Was that the 'cat' Subaru had referred to?

“Yeah, I couldn’t say this sort of thing if Rom was awake either.”

They seem to reach an understanding. Even if Reinhard doesn't know what to think about the fact that the young girl, red eyes, golden hair, stole the Insignia from Lady Emilia. She runs off to retrieve it.

Apparently, today was Subaru and Lady Emilia's first meeting. That was strange, very strange, but Reinhard was coming to expect that of Subaru. The fact that he risked his life to protect her, though…

“That’s what’s strange about it… Although I do suspect that that pervert might have something to do with this.” Lady Emilia sighs. The Moon looks down on them.

There was a long story here, but Reinhard didn't know what it was. He could only see the Stars. “Please refrain from speaking poorly of Lord Roswaal. He is a magnificent person. It is true that he is somewhat eccentric, but…”

“You knew who I was talking about, so it’s rather obvious what you think of him.”

Reinhard blinks. Oops. “… My apologies. Please keep this secret from Lord Roswaal.”

They decided together that Subaru would follow Lady Emilia, as the Stars wanted. Reinhard would have to contact the knights for escorts to make sure they got safely home.

The floorboards creaked as someone approached. Reinhard berated himself for destroying the entire building. He needed to learn better self-restraint.

"How about that girl and the old man?” Lady Emilia asked.

“… I’m unsure of the circumstances, as a knight I cannot overlook their actions. However,” Reinhard shrugged. “It’s my day off, and, if the victim does not file a complaint, it would be difficult to pursue the matter due to a lack of evidence."

He smiles innocently.

Lady Emilia giggles. "You're a bad knight!"

“Sadly, this is the true nature of the man known as the knight among knights."

He turns and the young girl is there. She jumps upon being noticed. "I brought it back like I said I would.”

“Great, I’m glad you came back. I’d feel reeeally guilty if I had to set this guy on you.” Lady Emilia opens her hand.

“The knight among knights, it’d be insane to try to outrun someone like that. This is my first time seeing someone faster than me, that shocked me quite a bit.” Oh, really?

Reinhard wonders if the girl's talents could be used for anything but thievery. He wondered if she would allow it. That Divine Protection was useful. Moreover, it was brimming with potential.

"I might stop if food just appeared before me without me having to do anything, though. Anyway, here you go.”

She took out the Insignia. For an instant, a red shine flashed by his eyes.

Oh. Oh no.

The sound of mocking laughter fills Reinhard's ears, and only his ears. His hand reaches out before he can stop it.

"Wha— Let me go!" The young girl shouts. She tries to twist out of his grasp, to no avail.

"Reinhard, wait," Lady Emilia tries. "I know you recognise the significance of this insignia, but she didn't know anything when stealing it! I don't intend to make a big deal out of it either, so—"

"It's not that," Reinhard says. It's not that. It's something no one but him can understand, the way the skies look at him now. No, not him.

Red eyes, golden hair. So much potential, capped because all one could hope for in the slums was to survive. How dull is it to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnished. They would never allow it. Dragon-blessed, the Sword God whispers, confirming Reinhard's hopes and fears.

"Your name. What's your name?" Reinhard demands.

The girl squirms and glares at him. He will apologize later. "Felt."

"Surname?"

"I'm an orphan," she bites back. "Let me go!"

"Reinhard, I don't understand," Lady Emilia says. She really doesn't — maybe she was used to the Insignia glowing, and her sponsor had not properly explained it. Reinhard felt bad, truly, but he had bigger worries.

"I'm sorry, Lady Emilia, Lady Felt, but I must take you with me."

Lady Felt really does snarl then, her Divine Protection rising up. Reinhard quickly drains her mana and puts her to sleep.

"Go to hell," she whispers then falls slack in his arms.

"That’s not very knightly of you either… If you’re too harsh, there will be lasting effects on her gate.”

“Fortunately, I’ve had to deal with this from birth so I understand how to control it. Lady Emilia, it seems you may soon receive a summons. Please understand. I will leave Subaru in your care."

He took the Insignia, dark once more, and placed it in Lady Emilia's hands where it glowed like the sun. Reinhard then turned his attention back to the girl in his arms.

He held her gently, as gently as he knew how to do. She was young. So young.

Reinhard doesn't remember being so young.

He only knows that when he was born, he could hear the skies. He could see it in his eyes.

Surely, it was too much responsibility for a child to bear.

(Reinhard bore it.)

Felt looked young again, without all the defenses she had when she was awake. Indeed, she could've been described as pretty. Reinhard only feels a pang of sadness.

This is what he robbed his kingdom of when he failed to talk to the Sage.

(Red eyes, golden hair.)

(Dragon-blessed.)

A strong wind blew, causing Reinhard’s red bangs to dance. He looked up at the sunset painted sky, and the Moon hung itself there, full and shining a faint bluish white, its beauty was filled with a certain bewitching charm.

“Today might be my final opportunity to calmly gaze upon the moon."

Reinhard’s whisper did not reach anyone but the moon looking down at him.

Chapter Text

Today is going to be a bad day, isn't it?

Julius sighs at his desk, his head pounding. He knows that it's better to just go home and put himself in bed, but he's been doing that for the past two days, and Julius needs to keep up on work. Captain Gildark was a fine commander, but he was only one man. Julius always helps out with the administrative work, since the vice commander didn't do a lot.

He squints at the letter in his hands. Even with his reading glasses, he can't make heads or tails of it. Even though Julius has been reading it for the past five minutes. He just can't make heads or tails of it.

Eventually he decides that it's some kind of request for permission to do something, which he doesn't have any power to grant, so Julius puts it aside for commander to decide. The next letter is a simple report that concludes nothing of note had happened. He stares at it for a while, rubbing his blurry vision every so often, before Julius pens out an equally simple reply.

At least, he tries.

His usually elegant handwriting was sloppy, and it annoys Julius. He's been in noble etiquette classes since he had the ability to understand it, his hand can never be anything but steady. That's how it's supposed to be.

Julius' fingers are not supposed to shake. Then again, he wasn't supposed to be dizzy and zoning out every other minute.

He should get some fresh air. It was just as well, since Julius wanted to check on the new recruits who were training in the courtyard.

They weren't that bad. As always, most of them were nobles who had at least had some form of training. There were a few unpolished gems among the recruits as well. Julius stands there, observing their footwork. He doesn't think he stays that long, until the trainer shoos him off for distracting them.

Sorry, Sir Elias.

When Julius catches Ferris walking in a corridor, he avoids it instinctively without knowing why. Maybe even then, he had known the extent of his sickness. Or maybe he just didn't want to incur Ferris' wrath and worry. He had more than enough to be upset about, with the Royal Family going extinct from a plague. Ferris would take more than just a few months to make peace with it. No, he might be scarred for the rest of his life.

Julius doesn't know how exactly he manages to be concerned with the thick fog in his mind right now, but he doesn't want to add to Ferris' despair. It was just a common sickness, anyway. It would be over soon.

How wrong Julius was.

By late afternoon, he had locked himself away into one of the private offices in the Knights' Garrison just so that his fellow knights would not see how pathetic he way. He manages to finish a good chunk of the work that had piled up, but there was still a lot left, even though the sun would be setting soon and Julius would be expected at home.

There was nothing for it, Julius sighs. He had to work overtime.

Well, it's his own fault for completing his work so slowly. If only that headache would subside… Unfortunately for him, it had only gotten worse, to the point where Julius decided he would not stand up, because even twisting his head made him nauseous.

Whenever someone knocks on the door, he ignores it even though it was highly unknightly to do so. He'd just have to apologize profusely tomorrow, when he was better. His throat was too choked up to function, so it was pointless anyway, but Julius did not like ignoring people in need of him.

The knocking gets more and more frequent, and more and more insistent.

He doesn't answer, even when the knocks sound like little explosions in his eardrums. They felt like explosions too, and Julius blinks away tears that reflexively pool in the corner of his eyelids. He tries to call out for them to stop knocking, but his voice is only a strangled gasp.

"I know nyou're in there!" Someone yells from behind the door. Julius winces from the volume as the words slam into his aching head. "I don't know why nyou've been avoiding us, but it's past midnight, Julius, we're worried."

Midnight?

Julius tries to look at the window, but his neck won't cooperate. There's no way it was midnight, but unless he was hallucinating Ferris — and he didn't think he was, the vibrations of the door were too loud and too realistic and hurt too much —

"Rein…break down…"

"—but…"

"If… conscious…by now…"

The explosions stops, but the craters in Julius' brain remains. He still doesn't have control over his body, can't twitch even a single finger —

The door flies open, and the world explodes. With light and noise and pain, again, it hurts. It consumes Julius' nerves and pours in liquid fire.

Someone comes running in and Julius wants to scream for their footsteps to stop creating bottomless ravines that pull him down, but he can't scream, and even if it could he has a feeling it would make the burning pain even worse.

Gentle hands touch his face and lifts his chin up, and Julius closes his eyes so that he won't see the blinding lights dancing with black spots on his eyes again. They say something, but there roaring nothingness in his ears blocks out the soft words.

Then he feels something pulling mana away from his gate, and the pain numbs…

Julius wakes up to darkness.

Is he even awake?

He forces himself to concentrate, but something sucks his energy away and fills his burning veins with bliss. Was Julius drugged?

Instincts kick in, and the adrenaline washes the bliss away to reveal the fires still raging. They charge around nimbly on his nerves, sending sparks of agony that soak into his skin until he does not feel himself. Still he calls out for his buds.

Kua answers, but her water magic makes Julius drowsy again. He blinks the sudden sleepiness away then makes a mental note to not do so again, because he nearly falls asleep the second his eyes close. Feeling fabric underneath him, Julius decides that he's on a bed. When his fingers reach the end of the fabric, he grasps it and pulls his uncooperative body closer.

The door creaks open, but even that minuscule sound cracks like lightning bolts in his ears.

"Nyou—" Someone grinds their teeth. "You're safe, Julius. Rest."

Julius fights the urge to do exactly that. His spirits are flickering anxiously beside him now.

"You're safe," another person says, one Julius didn't even notice entering the room, his voice like soothing honey and tamed fires. Familiar. Safety. "You're safe."

Julius believes them.

For the first time in a while, there is a noise that does not hurt Julius' ears.

A tune that follows a melody Julius recognizes but is too groggy to put a name to. It wasn't just the familiar tune, but the person humming it, that calmed his senses.

"Reinhard," Julius rasps and is surprised to actually hear. His own voice is horrible, yes, but it worked. "How long…?" There is sunlight, or some kind of light, pouring from somewhere around Julius, but his eyes tears up when he opens them, so he keeps himself in the darkness.

Reinhard sighs. "It's been about 10 hours since we found you. Ferris and I, I mean."

Ah. Of course. Julius feels bad about interrupting the two of them, but Ferris in particular, he was especially guilty. Apologies could wait after the thanks, though. "Thank you," he murmurs, then, "Sorry about all of this."

Reinhard sighs again. His hand — it must've been his, right? — removes itself from Julius' hair, where he did not actually notice was touched. Speaking of which, there was something, someone, pressed into his side.

Julius pries his eyes open. It was sunlight, streaming from the open windows. It still made his eyes water.

"Is it too bright?" Reinhard asks. He reaches beyond Julius at what seemed like an impossible angle, then the curtains are shut and the room is illuminated by only the lights under the doorway.

"Thank you," Julius says again.

Ferris finally awakes, likely from their conversation. The first thing his friend does is wack Julius in the face with his tail. It would have made him passed out with pain earlier, but it was only slightly stinging now.

"Glad nyou seem better," Ferris grumbles, not seeming glad at all.

"Thanks, Ferris—" Julius starts, but Ferris shuts him up with another smack of the tail.

"What's wrong with nyou?" Not the usual response patients got from their doctor upon waking, Julius thinks, and definitely not the bedside manner Ferris usually has. "I thought you were just busy and that's why I didn't see you around, but then Reinhard hadn't either, but he sensed you in your office, so we were just gonna let you be but then the moon was high and you were still there—"

Ferris gasps for breath as Julius pulls his friend closer to him. Reinhard leans in closer too, slipping down from his position of sitting, and runs his fingers through Ferris' hair.

His breathing is irregular, almost as much as Julius' was earlier. It was incredible how much better he felt now. Thanks to Ferris.

"I'm sorry," Julius mumbles, but Ferris' ears are twitching beside him.

"No, nyou're not," his friend mumbles back. Julius frowns. "Not for the right things. You're sorry because you worried me. If you could've gotten away with hiding the fact you were so sick, you would have without a doubt, wouldn't nyou?"

That was true, but…

"I…"

"Julius, you can't just ignore illnesses," Ferris continues. "A — an illness took the entire family, you can't just — they're serious, you know? What if I lost you too? Fourier died too young, they all did, I couldn't — you, tell me next time. Okay? Even if it's a stupid common cold or whatever. I was helpless then, so I'm not gonna let it happen again, okay?"

Julius hadn't realized the extent of Ferris' regret. Just how deep did it run?

They stay silent until Ferris' breaths even. Julius doesn't say anything about the way his friend snuggles closer, or Reinhard's head on his shoulder, arm wrapped around them.

Reinhard clears his throat. "My friend, when we found you, you were so pale, and barely breathing. It terrified me. Please, turn to us for help. You can trust us."

"It's not a matter of trust," Julius reflexively counters. "I do trust you both, a lot. That's why I don't want to bother you."

That being said…

Ferris' fingers were tight around Julius' wrist, and he could feel the pressure of the radial pulse on his skin. Reinhard's breathing was a constant, but it was not as steady as it usually was.

"It won't happen again," Julius promises.

Ferris laughs, weakly. "Better not. Your condition only worsened because nyou pushed yourself too hard. You've been sick for a while, right? You could've called for me then. Ferri-chan would have helped, nyou know."

"I can't even get sick," Reinhard points out. "Whenever you need me, wherever you need me, I'll be there, Julius."

Julius really did love these guys. A thank you didn't cut it, neither would a thousand thank yous be enough.

Though, staying next to them — right now, with the warmth of their bodies pressing into one another — just might be.

Chapter Text

"Reinhard! Great timing." Julius looks up from his neat stack of books. Reinhard offers a wave of his hand as he places down his bags beside Julius. "Can you lend me your mathematics textbook?"

Reinhard tilts his head in confusion.

There was no math class today.

Despite that, on Julius’ table were the exercise sheets the teacher had given out yesterday and papers filled to the brim with equations and formulas. Julius does dislike wasting paper, but he disliked disorder too, which was the only possible description of the notes.

Moreover, the exams had just ended last week — there was no reason for Julius to be engrossed in revision anymore. Reinhard wondered about the odd behavior, but answered an apologetic, "Sorry, I didn't bring it. I can try to help if you're struggling though?"

Julius blinks and smiles slightly at Reinhard's genuine offer. "It's alright." With that he heads back to his studying.

Subaru jogs towards them, apparently also having something to ask of Reinhard. "The teacher wants the two of us to go to her —Julius, is that math?!" Abruptly cutting himself off, he stares at Julius. "Nerd..."

Ignoring Subaru's accusatory whisper, Julius nods to Reinhard. "See you later.”

They make their way to the corridor. "Isn't Julius good enough at math already? He got 89% on the exam," Reinhard says, puzzled. "I thought he'd like to rest a bit after exams?”

Subaru shrugs. "I guess his pride's crumbling,” he laughs. "But in all seriousness, he must feel at least a bit bitter — don't take it to heart. Julius would feel even worse if you were hurt because of his own hurt. Or worse, feel bad for him."

"—?" Reinhard frowns. “What do you mean?" At his words, Subaru gives him a strange look.

"Reinhard, how much did you get for the math exam?" Subaru asks.

“94%.” Reinhard answers. It stings a bit whenever he remembers Father asking him whether it was considered good or not, but Reinhard quickly stuffs it down; the fact that Father was trying to talk to Reinhard at all was a miracle. It's not like he even meant it in a bad way, so what right did Reinhard have to be offended?

"Nerd," Subaru mutters again. "I, like every other normal student in class, barely passed. Heck, Ferris actually failed, and that's far more common than getting an A."

"So, shouldn't Julius be proud of himself?" An A was 80% and above, and Julius got well above eighty. He worked so hard, too. Julius believed that putting in your all was enough, no matter the result.

Subaru grimaces. "I'm sure he would've been. He put his heart and soul into math. It's scary, his dedication. But it's the fact that he really did work hard, you know?"

Reinhard does not understand what he's supposed to know, and Subaru takes his time explaining.

"He still lost to you."

Lost..? “Of course he did,” Reinhard finds his lips moving before he thinks, anxious and confused. "I'm... me. The fact that I only got 94% is..." Reinhard winces, realising his words. "I apologize. I must sound so condescending, but..."

There's no universe in which Reinhard loses. He won't, he can't. How is he supposed to put that in words?

"Damn, you two will be the death of me. I’ve had way too many embarrassing moments, but even I'm not as emotionally constipated as you two!" Subaru groans. "Whatever. We're at the office." So they were…

Reinhard makes up his mind to ask Ferris later.

"Rein, Ferri-chan is going to medical training to be a doctor, not a psychologist." Ferris' tail swishes in a way Reinhard has learnt to signify indignation. Reinhard opens his mouth to apologize, but Ferris is faster. "But even I can realise why Juli is sad."

"Sad?" Reinhard tries to imagine a sad Julius. He's seen him emotional before, but it was rare. Julius wasn't the type to openly express anger or sadness, always having a polite, earnest smile on his face. The only times he could be described as emotional were in extreme situations. Doing well in an exam did not count as an extreme situation.

"Sad," Ferris agrees. "Maybe terrified or angry, but Julius would never be angry at nyou. He'd turn his anger towards himself instead.” Ferris looks thoughtful, even dropping the affectionate nicknames.

“I feel like I'm a bigger problem than I realise," Reinhard mumbles.

“Oh, definitely, Subaru-kyun is too nice to say it, but Julius probably wouldn't feel anything at all if you'd gotten the same score as him. He's too logical to not know his results are good. Yours are just better.” Ferris’ frankness cuts into him like blades. Just an exam. Just an exam that Reinhard glossed over, but Julius could work himself to death and still not be better. Reinhard finally understands that it is that which saddens Julius, and not just a number on a sheet of paper.

“Don't blame nyourself, it'll make everything worse," Ferris advises.

"Then what am I supposed to do...?"

It's not like he can just ignore Julius, and he can't say he understands completely what's affecting him so badly. It's not like he can help in any meaningful way — no amount of comfort or words will change the fact that Reinhard must be first and Julius will never be able to work hard enough to bridge the gap.

It's not like he can change the result, not that he would. Julius deserves honour; and would never let his opponent lower themselves so that he could win. Chivalry aside, Reinhard doesn't want to lose either.

What would people think about him? He's supposed to be better than that. To be the best no matter what, wasn't that the mantle forced upon him?

Reinhard didn't want to win, not really. He wanted to be a normal person. He gladly allowed Subaru to be president. He would do the same for everything else, except…

Reinhard wanted his family to be proud of him. If it meant that he had to be the best at everything to get a shred of their attention, Reinhard would gladly do anything he could. Even if it meant stepping on someone else's dream, that was his responsibility to bear. The consequences of his wish to be happy, to give happiness to others and to want others to be happy for him.

What a silly wish, Reinhard thought. What a tragedy it was to cause hurt from something so childish.

"There's nothing you can do," Ferris admits. "Just be there for Julius. Be patient. He’ll get over it. And one day you'll 'win' again and he’ll be frustrated again and again, but life's unfair. Julius knows that, he accepts it and one day he’ll make peace with it, even if it's long after you're gone to wherever geniuses go."

Ferris' frankness slices like sharp pins balanced on the skin of his nape. "You make it sound like Julius can never win."

Ferris' tail flicks. Annoyance. "Don't delude yourself into thinking you'll let him. Even Julius doesn't. He'd just rather throw himself against a brick wall than sit down and accept it."

Reinhard's next words are whispered, but Ferris must've heard them anyways.

"I never wanted my existence to hurt someone else."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Julius loves it when the world goes gray. All that is in the skies are weeping clouds and hidden stars. He writes down a couple verses about the poetic injustice of such beauty being covered up by sadness and anger. He stares at his poetry notebook, then scratches the elegant handwriting out.

All artworks spoke of the creator, Julius believed, so why did he feel like storm clouds and how they inevitably ripped away the parts of themselves to heavy and drown the world in their shared sorrow?

Well, Ferris always thought Julius was a bit of a drama queen.

The world is gray and Julius watches the rain fall, mulling over his life. The smell of blood still clings to his fingernails. Subaru's blood, the self-proclaimed knight that Julius had humiliated in front of every knight present in the training hall.

Commander Gildark had given him an exasperated look and put him into house arrest because of his actions. Julius had accepted the punishment with grace, of course, which is what leads him to waste time staring out of the window, seeing nothing but darkness.

“I repeat, Julius. Any further action would be nothing more than an act of violence. As a knight of the Kingsguard… or even before that, as a human being, I can't overlook it."

Julius' lips can't help but curve into a smile when he remembers those words, but it is not a pretty smile. It is a bitter one. Reinhard, his friend, his something, was beautifully righteous. There was a kindness so innate in him, Julius could not help but envy it. Julius' knightly kindness was trained, built up from childhood as he grew as a person. Reinhard, whether he was 5 or 18, would stand up for someone he barely knew in the name of justice. Beautiful.

"You are a hero because you have too much. The blessings you were born with, the Astrea family that showed you how to act in the most appropriate way. And a soul so noble and pure that you don't question it or even have a reason for it — that's why you're a hero."

In comparison to Reinhard, who was the pinnacle of humanity — maybe more than humanity — Julius must surely be the most vile person in existence, to take advantage of the love for humanity his friend held.

Julius had expected Reinhard to intervene eventually — no, he hoped he would. Knew, even, if he was being honest. Had counted on it. Julius hadn't expected Subaru to reject Reinhard's help, but he shouldn't have been surprised. Subaru was not a good fighter by any means; he couldn't even be described as a fighter. However, he had a terrifying will and pride that made him stand up for his own delusions.

A knock on the door made Julius snap out of his thoughts. His spirits flicker into being beside him. "Come in," he says.

Commander Gildark walks in, his bulk out of place in the delicacy of Julius' room. Of course, all the fragile ornaments were safe on the shelves, but it was undoubtedly a room of a noble. Julius wasn't usually a fan of extravagance, but he could appreciate the refinement in it. As a bonus, most of those items were gifts from loved ones with memories attached to them.

"I see you're coping well," the commander remarks.

"It is not much of a punishment," Julius answers. He should've gotten much worse for essentially mutilating a Royal Candidate's servant. Commander Gildark really was too lenient.

House arrest wasn't much of a punishment for Julius who had friends in the atmosphere itself, and for five days? It nearly felt like a break. Julius had been working tirelessly in preparation for the Royal Selection Ceremony, both for Lady Anastasia and the guard schedules, so it was rather relaxing to have his work delivered to him, and for him to do it in the comfort of his home.

The commander scoffs and places a stack of files on Julius' desk. "I hope you're reflecting well on your actions."

"Yes, sir."

With a huff, Commander Gildark leans on the door, seemingly in the mood for a chat. "I know you did it in the best of intentions, but you really have caused a lot of trouble for me. Every knight in the block is falling over each other in their haste to defend you."

That was unexpected. "I apologize from the bottom of my heart, Commander. I only meant to alleviate your workload, not increase it," Julius says honestly.

"Hm." Commander Gildark watches as Julius brings over a spare chair. "The pride of knights is an oddly brittle thing."

Julius senses that the commander meant more than just the knights who would have executed Subaru for his insolence. "Do you believe Ferris or not, then? That someone needed to embarrass Natsuki Subaru so thoroughly that even the most prideful of knights would feel pity for him? Because I was not lying when I said it was a personal grudge. Please do not feel you owe anyone any recompense, commander."

Commander Gildark sighs. "You…" The sentence could've ended in many different ways, but only Marcos knew the extent of the pride he felt in his heartbeat. "Anyway, you have a special guest. One that pleaded to see you; one that may not be as understanding as I am."

"Message received," Julius mutters.

"Then finish reviewing the security concerns by tomorrow, Knight Julius." Commander Gildark stands to leave, but no one touches the extra chair. Julius stares at the files, undoubtedly holding many complaints of the security during the Royal Selection Ceremony, but, again, does not touch it. He readies his heart instead.

The next knock on his door is as soft as the light from the lamp beside Julius' bed. "Come in," he says for the second time today.

Reinhard walks in like a fire desperately stamped out. "Julius," he greets unsurely.

"Reinhard," Julius echoes, then smiles. "Come here."

Reinhard obediently shuffles towards Julius and sits beside him on the bed. The icy air doesn't quite warm up, but when Reinhard's hair presses into Julius' neck, he can believe they're just children again.

Relationships were weird. Especially when of the same sex. Reinhard was obligated to have a female spouse to pass on the Divine Protection of the Sword Saint, and Julius didn't experience attraction like normal people were supposed to.

He hasn't had a single crush on anyone, boy or girl, until Reinhard. Julius had hoped that if nothing else, he could live with someone he loved, but that was probably never going to happen.

Their relationship wasn't something they defined, even though they both knew they should. It wasn't anything. It wasn't anything, but if Julius loved Reinhard yesterday, he loved Reinhard today, and he would love Reinhard tomorrow and for all the days to come.

He didn't know what Reinhard felt, and maybe the man himself didn't either, but when Julius looked into his sky blue eyes, he could believe that they felt the same safety in each other.

They weren't anything, but when they were together, the heroics and knightly acts seemed a bit more real, a bit more meaningful. They felt a bit more peace. Wasn't that enough?

That peace was the same thing found in their silence now. It should've been uncomfortable, but they were both too preoccupied with their own thoughts to care about any of that.

Julius breaks the silence first, as always. "Ask away."

"Why did you fight Subaru?" Reinhard asks softly.

That was a long answer to that, but not an entirely complicated one.

Julius had done it for himself, partly. For the ideals he upheld and the sweat he had shed, that Subaru took so lightly. He had done it for Lady Emilia, who watched her self-proclaimed knight with an expression that was somewhere between despair and fondness, whose reputation Subaru had all but destroyed by his actions.

Julius had done it for Subaru, too, but it wasn't something Reinhard could understand. He who had a core of humility would not understand the pride that led knights to execute another. It probably wasn't something he could even perceive as possible.

There was also a reason why Julius did not say his own intentions of helping Natsuki Subaru, not even to Commander Gildark, until Ferris had pointed it out. It was a travesty to knighthood itself to manipulate the people's perception, and to hurt a man while concealing your emotions. Knighthood was honest.

"Tell me," Reinhard asks, and Julius thinks that all this time he has been blind to how much love his friend holds.

"Nothing I can say will redeem myself," Julius answers. "Don't place too much hope into me."

Reinhard purses his lips — he doesn't believe Julius. "I do not think you are the type to hurt someone so much, even in the name of chivalry." The same chivalry that Julius had spit out when he broke the spirit of an already broken man?

"Don't place too much hope in me," Julius repeats.

"Then tell me that there's a hope for me, Julius. Tell me that I am not foolish for not believing you are not selfless. Because I do not believe you."

There's a beautiful vase on one of Julius' shelves, intricate porcelain with fresh flowers. Crimson red, but not in the jarring way blood was red. No, it was crimson like Reinhard's favorite color. After all, Reinhard had been the one to gift him those flowers, grown from his own hands in his own garden.

Julius had been meticulously caring for it, watering it on a perfect schedule. He hoped that one day he'd have the freedom to see the same love be given to the man he loved most.

"I wish that I could live in a smarter way, don't you agree?" Ferris had asked. Lady Emilia gave too much and took too little; it was the foundation of many possible misunderstandings.

"No. Because you live this way, you can stay as precious and beautiful as you are. I don't think you want it to change. That's why…"

Julius hadn't finished the words back then, and he couldn't say it aloud now. Looking at Reinhard and his perfect face and perfect hair and too sad eyes, Julius knew why.

"After my house arrest, I have to go to the Deputy Commander's to retrieve my sword," Julius switches the topic.

"I see." Reinhard doesn't say anything about his father. "I will accompany you if you tell me to."

Perhaps the things Reinhard saw were different from the things Julius saw, but he thinks his friend understood why it was needed for Julius to fight Subaru regardless. Even if it was for a completely different reason, even if it was the same shackles of fate that only Reinhard could knew.

"I'm sorry for the words I said back then at the training hall," Julius switches the topic again. "They were needlessly cruel."

a

Reinhard stares at the floor, head still on Julius' shoulder. "They were true. As much as Lady Felt was right; I am a slave to fate."

Julius presses a kiss on his friend's forehead. "You are a slave to no one." They are meaningless words of comfort, because fate is not someone, and it could not be fought.

"I don't think I have it in me to stay angry at you," Reinhard admits. "But I cannot agree with your actions."

"I will accept that blame, of course."

"That's what makes me baffled!" Reinhard sits up straighter and Julius misses the pressure on his shoulder. "I don't understand why you did it and why you…"

"Don't regret it?"

Reinhard buries his head into Julius back, but he pulls him out gently. "Yes, I don't regret it, because I believe that it was the right thing to do. And I believe that right things also have consequences, and I am willing to embrace them. I'm sorry that I cannot fulfill your hope, Reinhard."

"That boy, Subaru, do you think he can be your friend one day?" Reinhard asks.

Julius thinks about it, and thinks about the smell of blood he can still taste and the scent of flowers clinging to the air. Like— "I hope so."

Chapter Text

"Yet it is their tears and anger, the trying of their generosity and the acceptance of their helplessness, which are perhaps the true source of the splendor of their lives. Theirs is no vapid, irresponsible happiness."
― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas

Ferris longs for a day of sunshine. Actual sunshine. Not the fake, artificial sky draped over them, of clouds and nearly constant rain. He doesn't know the feeling of the sun anymore, but Julius did, and all his poetry make Ferris miss it too.

"Come on," Julius mumbles now. He could've been shouting, but the combination of the thunder warning of a storm and his gas mask covering his face made it hard to hear him. Ferris hates gas masks. It's so hard to breathe. He hates it nearly as much as he hates the world and the way it is broken. "It's dawn. They'll be here soon."

Ferris doesn't know how he can tell it's dawn, but he believes Julius and crawls out of the bunker, pulling his own mask over his head.

He has to leave no matter how much he hates gas masks. Ferris is the only medic for miles, and the only one who knows which supplies are worth it. The glaring lights meet the tinted glass of his eye lenses, creating images of commercials and entertainment. Ferris blinks and ignores the illusions.

The floating pods emitting the lights are a product of GENII, the latest reigning company in Terra Solis (literally meaning Sunland in Latin). It didn't matter much to the people down in the Terra Nebulae (Fogland — Ferris had a theory that Terra Solis was so starved of creativity that they didn't even know what to name themselves) what those people were doing, only that it rained more and more destruction on their land every day.

Julius was from Terra Solis. He had escaped with his family, because — according to Julius — they couldn't bear how they were overstimulated with screens and synthetic things all day and all night. Joshua wasn't suited to life here, though.

They hadn't known. About how bad things were here.

Joshua still says it's better than back at home, but Ferris doesn't know whether he believes himself or if he's just saying it because Julius is the happiest here he's ever been. He had immediately taken it upon himself to help Terra Nebulae, and found a new home when Marcos Gildark and Crusch — the two co-leaders of the bunker where Ferris resided — took them into their bunker.

The largest continents of the world were split into two lands now, one where the artificial sky was of sunlight and one where the artificial sky was of rain.

Both were fake.

Ferris hates the world, because it is breaking itself, but Ferris loves the world more than anything else, and he hates it for breaking itself.

Ferris taps on Julius shoulder. Anyone else coming? He asks.

Julius shakes his head.

Okay, just the two of them today, he supposes.

See, Terra Nebulae was the wasteland of the continent, where Terra Solis dumped all of their trash. Ever since the greatest model of AI was released, and the world went ballistic in glee over it, liters and liters of water were drained from the world until there was nothing left.

That might be a problem, the scientists and politicians thought as they scratched their heads. They ignored the people losing the will to think in the background. Let's make an infinite water source.

Thus, they evacuated the people from a land, tore it apart, and drowned it in a water cycle. Not all of the people left — some didn't want to leave their homes, some didn't want to make a new one. They were the ancestors of Terra Nebulae.

Then the scientists realized the atmosphere there could not keep up. So they tore it apart and made a new one.

—Thus, the fake skies were born.

Ah, they thought. What an incredible piece of innovation! They stitched the new skies over their heads but made it prettier instead, uncaring of all the climate destruction they caused in the meantime. Fossil fuels were burnings endlessly in the factories, smoke never ceasing to rise up their chimneys, animals dying and wildfires spreading in forests.

Their solution was to pretend it wasn't happening and open up even more TV channels for humanity to distract themselves, while pushing all the broken pieces of nature towards Terra Nebulae, where the fake skies created water to fill up the pumps that are in turn transported to Terra Solis.

Terra Nebulae had ventilators in the soil to let the air clear, so that the water wouldn't be toxic, but they didn't work well. Terra Solis filtered the water in their homeland instead, while here in the land of rain there was endless water but none of it drinkable. There was barely any wildlife here, not even the toughest of plants survived long alone.

However, someone needed to take care of the fake skies and the systems in Terra Nebulae, so, in return for food and clothing, the citizens born in Terra Nebulae did the dirty work just so Terra Solis could be happy with their AI lovers.

Julius stops in his tracks. They've arrived at the shelter. In the distance, you could make out several trucks rushing through the fog. The weekly aid from Terra Solis.

There were already other crowds milling about. There wasn't much of an organization in this land — there were blocks where manpower was needed, and if the quotas weren't fulfilled, the aid trucks stopped coming. Once the people got their act together, hungry and wet from the rain and miserable, they did their jobs, and usually relocated to the blocks to maintain them.

Everyone did their own thing. No one wanted to starve, after all. Not even to rebel against the cycle of working like a dog and getting scraps of food for it.

There was some amount of self-sustained agriculture within Terra Nebulae — plants that could withstand a bit more rain with the care of humans. Sometimes, rice made its way to the markets. Fresh rice, unlike the artificial food sent by Terra Solis. It wasn't as nice as the synthetic food, but it was real. Real in a way nothing else could be.

Julius busies himself with checklists and food, as Ferris heads off to the medical truck.

There was an epidemic in Terra Nebulae. That in of itself wasn't very surprising — in a land where the chill of rain never paused, of course sickness would be prevalent. Except that it didn't go away like it always had before, and more and more people were falling victim to it.

Terra Solis must know of this issue, with their floating radio pods, so they must have sent something to help them, right?

Ferris could only hope that there is. What else could they hope for? Everything in Terra Nebulae depended on Terra Solis.

“Don’t you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it.”
― George Orwell, 1984

"Have you ever thought that reading takes up too much time? Hours and hours of sitting still, how unbearably boring! But fear not! With our new GENII-Absorb, use your phone to scan any book and have everything you could want summarized in just one page! Highly accurate with experts praising it, this new technology will allow for everyone to have greater comprehension in even shorter amounts of time!"

Whenever he listens to music on the player, Reinhard thinks that the advertisements are longer than the songs themselves. Not that the songs were any more interesting than the ads — they were all the same blend of whatever was trending at that time.

It wasn't like there was anything to be done about it, though. Headphones only used GENII-Play to stream music. Reinhard accepts it like he accepts everything about Terra Solis — loyally, and because he knew there was no other alternative.

Grandfather had tried to find an alternative, or at least freedom. His appearance was as sudden as a change in the breeze (for the air stayed forever the same in Terra Solis), and his departure the same. Only, Grandmother had followed him when he went.

Father always said Grandmother was like a bird in a cage that had been let loose by Grandfather. She would follow him everywhere. Reinhard doesn't know whether what his father said was true — he had never met either of his grandparents — but Father seemed bitter that they hadn't stayed for him. Even though he himself had requested to stay home with his girlfriend — later Reinhard's mother — Louanna.

The next song plays, and it sounds exactly the same as the last one. The same airy, robotic voice that sounds a bit too smooth to be human, with the lyrics that don't quite make sense.

Reinhard wonders if music used to be a thing of passion, where the singer would make you feel something other than the pulse of dull contentment coursing through Reinhard, like his soul knew he didn't really like it but his mind didn't care.

"Do you feel lonely? When you talk, do you feel like nobody listens? It's okay. Find a true friend in GENII-Companion today! From topics ranging from mainstream culture to the most obscure of interests, all Companions will speak about anything you like, respectfully and calmly—"

Reinhard switches his headphones off, but if he was going to be honest, it changed nothing. The screens in his room had the same commercials going on. Oh, not the same exact one, but they were all about the same things, in the same tone, anyway.

He wonders why he chose to use headphones when he could just play the songs from the screens. Maybe it was because the lyrics sounded more personal when it was for his ears alone.

No, nothing really was personal anymore, was it? No matter how much GENII claimed to personalize their work.

Reinhard wishes he was more like Grandfather, with a will of steel. Or like Grandmother, who was full of love. Maybe if he was, he could do more than have the rebellious thoughts of an adolescent.

Reinhard thinks he's more like Father — angry and exhausted but staying because there is nowhere else to go that he can call home.

There's a painting in his room of his grandparents, except it wasn't a painting and it wasn't of his grandparents. The painting was an endless video showing real time feed of how his grandparents would look today. The programming was based on just one photo of them when they were far younger.

The Wilhelm Astrea in the painting is gray-haired, now. The Theresia Astrea has smile lines and wrinkles. The red hair their family held was bright enough to counter the streaks of gray, but not enough to hide them all.

Reinhard thinks that he'll have to shut them down one day, when they have grown too old, and he asks himself if he'll miss them on his wall when he does so.

He can't decide whether it's worse to miss them or not.

Someone calls out Reinhard's name. "Dear, let's have dinner."

It's roast duck and crunchy noodles. Father eats silently and Mother watches the TV. They are curled around each other but don't say a word. Who knows, perhaps they are happier like this. Reinhard knows that it was happier than it would've been in Terra Nebulae, though. If it was the only thing he knew.

When they can't eat anymore, they scrap the leftovers into the dustbin. That dustbin was supposed to be for food, and would be used for compost or stuff like that, but they all knew it went straight to landfill to decompose into methane. There was nothing they could do about it anyway, so they didn't do anything.

What a sad way to live, Reinhard thought. Would this happen in Terra Nebulae too?

He studies his parents. They aren't bad parents or anything like that. He doesn't even have a bad life. He does well in school where the GENII-Teachers individualize lessons for every student, and he's liked well enough by his fellow classmates, but…

What a sad way to live, without passion.

They had switched roles — Father had changed the channel to something he liked watching, and Mother was leaning on him. She looks to Reinhard and smiles, beckoning him over. He goes and sits beside them.

"What do you wanna watch?" Father asks.

"I don't mind, anything is fine," Reinhard says, but what he really means to say is everything is boring.

They watch an anime where the characters feel one-sided and the plot is flat, filled with cliches and tropes and robotically-spoken lines that should've hit hard but only sounded nice. The art could've been described as pretty, maybe, but it glitched sometimes and the characters seemed to always be changing appearances.

Did there use to be people who wanted to be artists or writers or animators? They didn't study art in school anymore, and not history either. "You can just search up everything", the teachers had said politely.

"What if what's online isn't true?" One of the students had asked. That student — Julius Juukulius — was one of the notable rebels in the school. "But I guess you can't expect the schools to be true either." He had an air of sophistication and otherwise did his work well, but it was a surprise to no one at all that he had vanished one day.

Reinhard had talked to him only once, just to try and understand why he refused to just live his life blandly like the rest of them. There was a loyalty in Julius, but it was a loyalty to justice, and there was no justice to be found in Terra Solis. Only people who blinded themselves to how unhappy they were. Reinhard was one such example.

Still—

"In Terra Solis, we own nothing. Not our creations, for they are generated nonsense from a robot. Not our lives, governed the never-ending routines that don't really matter since everything we need is handed to us anyway. Not our deaths, which can be negated simply by a robot living on using our history and personalities. Did you know, the counter to love was not hate, but apathy? In the end, love and hate are both a messy kind of passion. Something that makes you feel.

In Terra Solis, there is nothing to mourn, nothing to cherish, nothing worth caring about enough to feel for. Just apathy without passion. I feel like I'm not human, because something vital — far more vital than a lung or a heart that can be synthesized — has been taken from me. Don't you feel it too?"

Reinhard thought about it. "Then what are you going to do?"

"What else is there to do but leave and create something better?"

Was that what Grandfather and Grandmother had thought when they stepped out of the house?

It was Reinhard's only conversation with Julius, and it haunted him. He still doesn't understand what goes through his head, or the words he uses, but in that second — something vital has been taken from me, don't you feel it too? — their hearts had beaten as one.

He thinks that maybe he'd like to talk with him more.

If Reinhard went to Terra Nebulae, would he meet him again? Was that where Julius had vanished to? Or had he died, had he been killed, had he simply switched schools?

"Do you want to leave?" Father asks. "What?" He says upon looking at Reinhard. "Anything is fine. That's how it all starts, you know? That's how it started for dad. He thought, anything is fine but nothing is good and he left. Mom thought, anything is fine but nothing is mine, and she left. Are you going to leave too?"

"I…" Reinhard doesn't know what to say. Mother touches his head gently.

"Will you promise to come back?"

Reinhard blinks and nods.

"Will you bring them back too?" She asks softly. "No, I suppose I can't ask that of you. It's only normal for a child to want to spread out their wings. Just, come back."

"Okay," he whispers.

"And for the first time I realized that a man was behind each one of the books. A man had to think them up. A man had to take a long time to put them down on paper. And I'd never even thought that thought before… It took some man a lifetime maybe to put some of his thoughts down, looking around at the world and life, and then I come along in two minutes and boom! it's all over.”
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

There was someone who had come with the trucks.

No one ever came with the self-driving aid trucks. Maybe a robot or two, maybe some letters, but never a human.

The man wore a, honestly speaking, pitiful mask. It had started raining again a while ago, and Julius had his raincoat on, but the man had an expensive-looking coat that did a poor job of hiding how he shivered. Still, the man's eyes did not stray from Julius'.

The pipes in the earth drank up the water, but there would be a flood soon, and Julius did not want to be caught up in it. There was also no way he was just going to leave this man here.

He extends his hand. Julius had tried to use sign language, but it was apparent that wherever this man was from, he had never learnt it. There was no point in speaking; the rain was too loud and his gas mask was still on his face.

The man accepts Julius' hand and follows him. It's funny, how race and education and the skies themselves could separate so many, but how in the end, humans were just another animal that had an ingrained language in them.

Ferris finds them and shoots Julius a strange look, but he says nothing.

They make their way back to the bunker, carts of goods in hand. Julius notices the man staring at the ruins of Terra Nebulae. He had done the very same thing when he first arrived.

Broken rubble of bomb tests after Terra Solis made a half-hearted announcement to the citizens here to evacuate into their bunkers. Drowned weeds and vines that surrounded the water-weathered rubble. Hardly anyone ever came to the surface for purposes other than getting stuff from the aid trucks — there was simply nothing here.

When they reach the bunker, Crusch greets them. She accepts the new man's presence easily enough, barely questioning why Julius brought him here when their bunker was already overcrowded and there wasn't enough food. Oh, and the illness in the air, too.

Perhaps she had also sensed something special from the man. It wasn't common for people of Terra Solis to walk to their garbage bin of a land, but sometimes it happened. The compassionate ones, or the bored ones.

"What's your name?" Crusch asks the man.

"Reinhard," he answers, who had been staring at him at every second after he had stripped himself of the gas mask and raincoat. "Reinhard Astrea."

"Well, my name is Crusch, and I'm one of the overseers of this bunker, along with Marcos, who is, ah, busy doing other things." He was distributing the resources Julius had found. Ferris was doing his medic stuff.

Julius was here because he didn't have anything else to do, and also because people who had gone to the surface weren't allowed to have contact with others for two days. They had learnt their lesson the first time someone brought it a disease from the surface.

"Nice to meet you," Reinhard says. "Uh…"

"I'll be straight with you. You're from Terra Solis, aren't you?" Crusch asks.

Reinhard's eyes snap to Julius again, and he blinks at the intensity of his blue eyes. Blue, like the bright skies of the Sunland. Blue, like Julius hasn't seen since he had run away when he was barely a teen. Blue, saturated and hopeful unlike anything in Fogland where everything was gray and dust. Blue…

"Your eyes are beautiful," Julius blurts.

"My father says that the blue eyes of the Astrea family are a reminder of what the world has lost. Real weather, with both rain and sunshine, and also bitter cold and sweltering hot."

"It's bitterly cold here," Julius says.

Reinhard shakes his head. "Not like it was before the fake skies. Father said that Grandmother inherited her love of flowers from her grandmother, who loved Spring but hated Winter. Winter used to be the time when it was bitterly cold."

Julius smiles and the world suddenly doesn't seem so gray anymore. "You know of the seasons, then?! I keep trying to find information on them, but books and stuff are limited here in Terra Nebulae, so I don't know much. I wish I had the archives back home."

Reinhard scratches his chin.

Julius continues on. "Well, I'm not sure if the books in the archives are completely true. The Internet says the seasons had never existed, but I didn't think it was possible for that to happen, because there must've been a time GENII didn't exist, right? There must've been a time before Terra Solis and Terra Nebulae. I just can't find any proof of it! If there was, it could be revolutionary—"

Both Crusch and Reinhard are staring at him, one in amusement and the other in surprise.

"Sorry," Julius says bashfully. "Go on, Lady Crusch."

"Lady?" Reinhard asks. "Sorry, was I being impolite—"

"No, no," Crusch interrupts and sends Julius a mock glare. "Anyways, you said you're an Astrea, right? There might be someone who you may be interested to see."

Reinhard blinks. "Is it… Is Grandfather and Grandmother really here?" He has a hopeful look in his eyes that Crusch looks saddened to break.

"Your grandfather, Wilhelm, is. I'm afraid to say that Theresia Astrea passed away a few years ago from one of the pandemics we had. She was a wonderful woman. Used her high-born education and love for flowers to make some farms."

The new information about his grandmother doesn't seem to take away the blow, but Reinhard nods. "Thank you for telling me."

Crusch stands up. "You two know each other, right? I'll go find your grandfather. You are welcome to stay since you are family, but I'll have to warn you that you must pull your weight." She leaves.

"You remember me, right? Reinhard Astrea. I used to be in the same academy as you in Terra Solis," Reinhard says after a beat of silence.

Julius tries hard to recall. He remembers the blurry silhouette of a beautiful man.

"In Terra Solis, there is nothing to mourn, nothing to cherish, nothing worth caring about enough to feel for. I feel like I'm not human, because something vital, more vital than a lung or a heart that can be synthesized, has been taken from me. Don't you feel it too?" Reinhard says desperately. That definitely sounds like something Julius would say, but he draws up a blank.

"I'm sorry, I don't have many good memories of that time, so I try to not reminiscence so much," Julius apologizes.

Blue eyes, blue eyes, blue—

"Then what are you going to do?" Reinhard whispers, and something clicks.

"What else is there to do but leave and create something better?"

Reinhard's face lights up in a happy smile, and if Julius has ever thought he'd seen color before, he was wrong.

The world shines.

"In what distant deeps or skies. 

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?"

― William Blake, The Tyger

It seemed to Reinhard that Grandfather didn't really know what to do with him. Then again, if someone from the family you had long abandoned suddenly appeared in your life again, Reinhard may be extremely confused too.

He had gotten to know the other civilians in the bunker better, and readily agreed to help out wherever he could.

It sounds morbid, but there was something refreshing in being wanted. Needed, if Reinhard saw the way people thanked Julius. There was something refreshing about not having the chatter of the screens in the background.

Apparently, there was an epidemic in the bunker, and those who were sick were quarantined. Only Ferris and family members were allowed to visit the sick. Ferris always smelled like the laundry basket at home — clean and sharp.

Reinhard quickly learns how different Terra Solis and Terra Nebulae were.

His home was built on luxury and privilege, so much that he had been completely ignorant of the situation in Terra Nebulae.

"It's nearly always raining here. It's how GENII gets their water," Julius had explained.

"And the ruins?" Reinhard asked.

Julius smiled sadly. "I asked around when I got here too, but no one knows. Maybe they were homes once. Hospitals, school. I don't know, but they're all gone now. All that remains are ruins."

"Why?"

"Mostly the floods. Sometimes the bombs."

"Bombs?"

His eyes grow distant. "Ferris always says that Terra Solis doesn't really care about here. They dump their trash and their landfill in our forests, they cut trees down and burn them. Sometimes they test out their new equipment here too. That's why we wear gas masks."

"Bombs."

"I want to change it one day," Julius says. "I want to make this world a better place. Will you help me?"

Reinhard has always wondered what went through the scientist's head when they created the first AI. He wonders when something that should've been so useful turned so evil, until it made half of the world into a wasteland.

"Will you come back?" His mother had asked.

He would come back. He promised that, but he felt himself caving in.

Reinhard thinks about the senseless consumption in Terra Solis, where they relied on GENII for everything. It only became clear once he realized not a single soul in Terra Nebulae used GENII to bake, to write diaries, to do their jobs, to teach their children and to sing their songs. He thinks about how Julius writes, not because he's any good at it or that it's an important part of his life, but because he wants to.

Was there any way to save a people who were all but brainless? There must be; Reinhard would find it no matter what.

Reinhard would come back home, but he might tear it apart first.

Chapter Text

 "You are Reinhard, a child that's been blessed by your family. Please remember that before you learn about the world."

How beautiful, Theresia thought as she looked down upon her grandson. He had already been blessed by the Astrea Patron Beast — the Phoenix. The red in his hair radiated warmth, flickering as if it were a candle flame.

The Spirits of the Beasts blessed people following only their own rules, but sometimes a certain family was favored. For example, the Royal Family have their characteristic golden hair as a mane of the Lion — though its blessings were from a long time ago — and the blue scales and claws of the Divine Dragon.

Theresia had claws too. Bird-claws that she could stretch out. Wilhelm got his when he married her, and Heinkel nearly clawed out his eyes when he was born. That didn't happen with Reinhard, whose bright blue eyes stared docilely up into Theresia's own.

There were pale green scales climbing up his neck — marks of the Turtle.

"Blessed," Theresia repeated softly. "Blessed child."

Somehow she knew that when Reinhard was blessed again by other Beasts, she would not be able to witness it.

"What… what are you?"

Marcos Gildark's face was shocked — no, perhaps terrified. His bear ears twitched but he stood confidently, as much as he could.

Reinhard tilted his head and his hair revealed small antlers where no doubt impressive ones would grow. He was blessed by the Deer, elegant and swift.

"I don't understand."

Marcos didn't say anything, perhaps having realized that his thoughts were not something to be said out loud to a child, but Reinhard heard them anyway.

The Phoenix, the Turtle, the Deer — this child has more Beasts looking after him than most famous adults do when they accomplish something. He's more Beast than human at this point.

Reinhard blinked and an ugly emotion rose in his chest, something like sadness. Normal kids cry, but Reinhard could not. He wished he could. Maybe this amazing man in front of him would think he was human then.

"No matter what other people may think, you are blessed, okay? That's all you need. You are strong, you will survive. You are the one of a kind. No matter how much people hurt you, you're going to heal. I believe in you."

Father had said those words once when Reinhard asked why the children stared at him when he tried to eat the dirt. He was later put in a garden, and when the animalistic urge in him to roll around in the grass and weeds had subsided, small bumps had sprouted on his head.

"I am blessed," Reinhard said.

Marcos nodded. "You are blessed."

Something like relief rippled through Reinhard at the confirmation — he knew he was going to be okay again. Father was right, after all — that means he must be right when he had said Marcos Gildark must rejoin the knights.

"You will rejoin the knights," Reinhard said, his voice changed.

Marcos nodded slowly, eyes round and wide like a bear's. "I will rejoin the knights."

It's only after Father had begged him to never again use the Divine Protection of Mind-Changing, that Reinhard realized pink, feathery gills fluttered by the back of his ears.

You have been blessed by the Axolotl, Father said. His hands trembled.

Phoenix wings burst forth, burning his clothes.

"Grandmother?" Reinhard said to thin air. "Grandmother—"

Grandmother never comes back.

Grandfather's Raven feathers were the exact opposite of Grandmother's — Reinhard's — Phoenix ones.

Right. Reinhard van Astrea was the Sword Saint now.

"Monster," Grandfather said.

His black wings were so pretty, but the wolf fangs bared at Reinhard were scary.

"Grandfather," Reinhard said, and his voice shook. "I'm blessed." Not a monster. Father and Grandmother had both said so. Reinhard was blessed.

Wilhelm van Astrea glared daggers into his grandson, because beneath the raging feathers of flames, were ashy Eagle feathers.

"You're a monster," his grandfather said with finality in his tone. "Nothing less, nothing more. You killed my Theresia, and now the Eagle has blessed you. The King of the Skies has blessed you, a monster. Are you happy now?"

Phoenix, Turtle, Deer, Axolotl, and now Eagle.

No wonder why Reinhard is a monster.

He wished he could say sorry and mean it. "I'm blessed," Reinhard whispered to his grandfather, because there is nothing he can say that will help. There is the truth: Reinhard is a monster — and there is the lie: Reinhard is blessed, and he chose what he believed in.

Maybe Reinhard's entire life is based on a lie, he thought as Grandfather spit and hissed and snarled. If it weren't for Father's Porcupine spines flaring up in front of Reinhard, stabbing into Grandfather, what would Reinhard have done? Bared him own teeth and lunged? Snap into his shell and howl?

He did neither — he only watched as his Phoenix fire burned angrily in his own skin and turned away from Grandfather. There was still a hint of flame when he twisted, but it was no longer Grandfather's to control.

(Was anything ever in their control?)

"That's enough, Reinhard. That's enough already."

There were shattered pieces of glass that parted for Reinhard's feet. The glass smelled like alcohol and blood.

Father's Porcupine spines were dull, just like when Reinhard had defeated him in a duel, Phoenix wings raised high with blistering light rays. It wasn't a hard fight. Reinhard only traced the light, transfixed, and the battle was over.

"Reinhard, that's enough. What else can you take from me?" Father's bloodshot eyes stared at him now. Mother was still comatose, a small unicorn bump on her forehead. Her hair glittered slightly with rainbow, but it was flat. "Just go."

That second, Reinhard understood. Reinhard's touch burned everything to the ground.

That was what it meant to be blessed — Reinhard was destined to burn alone.

Golden roses bloomed on Reinhard's skin — the Leopard.

"So, Adelheid, we're partners now?" The young boy grinned at him. Reinhard could see the starts of a blessing on him.

He hadn't known how rare blessings by the Beasts were. Even more uncommon than Divine Protections. Most people would never see them. If you were especially lucky, a Beast would bless you.

Family blessings were always faint, like the Phoenix's flaming red hair. The favored ones, like Grandmother and Reinhard, would grow wings, but only once in each generation. Father had the Porcupine, even though he always said he didn't deserve it. Grandfather had a bit of the family blessing, but mostly his own Wolf and Raven. Grandfather was favored by the Beasts.

Reinhard, by the world. He was blessed by his family, but his family was one of monsters in the sky.

Phoenix, Turtle, Deer, Axolotl, Eagle, Leopard.

He couldn't do anything about the flaming hair, but it was only natural for Astreas. He hid the wings, the Turtle scales, the Axolotl gills, and the Leopard prints under his sleeves. The Deer antlers were large now, beautiful and curved. The feathered gills of the Axolotl wrapped around those antlers. The Leopard hadn't granted him much except for the spots, but Reinhard had a feeling it would change soon.

"Oh, my mind is Julius," the boy said, as if Reinhard could forget it.

Reinhard may be horrible on stealth missions because of his Beast blessings, but the 14 year old Julius was blinded by his Crane.

Blessings by the Beasts were rare. Around the time of Reinhard's birth, everyone was saying that it was a bad omen the Beasts became more present. More awake.

The Divine Dragon was the only Beast that had ever made contact with the Kingdom of Lugunica. At least, the only one in known history. After he had stirred, the rest of the Beasts went into a slumber, occasionally peering through their eyelids and blessing some outstanding humans. So, blessings should've been rare.

"Your Crane Crest is beautiful," Reinhard said.

Julius smiled in delight and runs his fingers through the crest as if he were preening it. "Thank you, that means a lot."

Reinhard thought, was this the first time I've ever made someone happy?

It couldn't have been. Reinhard was a monster, but he was blessed, he was a hero. There must've been someone he has helped before.

He'd never known those people, never looked into their eyes and saw their gratitude. His family has scowled at him as much as they had smiled at him.

Julius raised his wings, and Reinhard's own itched at his back.

The demi-human had Butterfly wings. "I'm a healer. Ferris, or Felix Argyle, but Ferri-chan would prefer Ferris. Hi."

"Hello. We should fly together," Julius said with a kind smile. "All three of us."

Ferris' natural cat ears pricked up. Demi-humans weren't blessed by any Beast, but there was something beautiful in that too. "All three of us? You're all cursed too?"

"Blessed," Reinhard corrected on instinct, trying to not think about the way Ferris' cat eyes followed every movement of the feathers on his two wings — Phoenix red and Eagle gray — and of his head. More specifically, the giant antlers on his head.

"How do you move with all that?" Ferris asked. His tone held no malice, just pure confusion. "People can barely make way for my wings, and they're tinyyy."

"Well, I've gotten used to it, I guess," Reinhard said in response.

"Blessed of the Beasts stick together." Julius extended his hand and does not pull back his claws.

"We stick together." Ferris shook his hand.

Easy to say, Reinhard thought even as he joined in on the handshake. He was a monster, a killing machine, and when he looked into the youthful faces of his new friends, he wondered how far he would go for his loyalty.

Still, life wasn't so hard after that.

"I know I just said that, but are those tentacles?"

Oh, yeah. Reinhard forgot to mention. The Jellyfish's blessing had descended upon him.

The Emperor looked like he's trying not to laugh, a devilish curve on his lips. "I heard the stories, but…"

"Sword Saint, what kind of human are you?" Even the high pitch of Vincent Vollachia's laughter sounded piercing. Despite that, the cold intelligence in his eyes was the most inhumane thing about him, and it was the only human trait.

Reinhard's own wings were raised high too, as if he were trying to make himself bigger than he actually was. They were more flames than ash now. The poison in his tentacles swirled, but he tried to ensure they didn't touch anyone, especially the two beside him. No matter how powerful Ferris' healing was, Reinhard would rather not do that to him.

Reinhard paid no mind to how his Leopard tail curled protectively around Julius. Apparently, his friend didn't either, because he stared at the Emperor with unblinking eyes.

The arch of Vincent Vollachia extended Swan wings could've been even more elegant than Julius' if they weren't so sharp. He has Dolphin fins, but they were as cruel as they were smooth. His shifting Octopus tentacles crushed on of the pillars.

He was loved by the world too. Maybe hated just as much. Because…

"Lion's mane? Goat antlers? Snake-headed tail?" Julius muttered in one breath. Ferris stared at him with a mix of apprehension and horror.

"Julius, please don't start," Ferris begged. Reinhard's tail curled around him tighter.

"No, don't you understand the harmony of the chaos?" Julius started. "How the weirdest blends of creatures could create something so magnificent? Behold, Vincent Vollachia, Emperor of Vollachia, Blessed of the Chimera!"

Vincent's grin sharpened, revealing too many teeth. There was something like the look of a fanatic in Julius' expression. A shiver ran down Reinhard's spine and every single one of his animal traits reacted to the sudden fear.

Four Beasts stood protective over the pale man before them. Four. Apart from Reinhard himself, it was the most he had ever seen. Even the members of the Royal Family did not have so many. Even if you counted the tiny family blessing of the Phoenix for Grandfather, he still only had three.

Vincent Vollachia smiled and the Cunning Swan, the Vicious Dolphin, the Brilliant Octopus and the Chimera of Vollachia smiled with him.

Cecilus Segmunt looked dumbfounded. "I am the star of the world! How could this be! And I'm on par with the Emperor himself!"

Today was full of surprises. At least the Emperor was notorious enough for Reinhard to have known beforehand exactly how animalistic he was. The Blue Lightning, on the other hand, was as evasive as his name suggested, and operated completely on his whims, expecting the world to revolve around him.

The Peacock suited him.

Julius looked grateful for Reinhard's intervention, but a little bit sulky that the eyes on the Peacock's feathers were no longer turned to him.

"Oh, hey!" Cecilus said excitedly, apparently having gotten over his shock for a second ago. "We are the same brand of murderous!"

"I'll have to correct you," Julius said when he realized Reinhard didn't answer. "Reinhard, my friend, is anything but murderous."

Cecilus tilted his head in an oddly familiar way, making a clicking noise. Despite how calmed he seemed, the bloodlust showed in his upright Cheetah ears. "Oh? Then what will you say to this?"

He outstretched his hand and translucent tentacles spilled out. Before he knew what he was doing, Reinhard did the same.

Their shared blessing of the Jellyfish wrapped around each other.

"The Jellyfish is brainless and lifeless," Cecilus said. "It has no meaning to its survival except that it fights, endlessly, always winning." He gave a slanted smile. "Maybe for those without the Peacock. I have meaning in my life."

Suddenly the air changed, and his wings were changed with it from an innocently charming blue-green to a sickle-shaped blue-green, tapered to neat points.

"Falcon," Reinhard said, and it's all he can say before Cecilus disappears into a flash of blue-green.

The Star of the World was truly amazing.

The boy with black hair screamed when he met Reinhard. It's not something he can put into words. It was a scream of pure, unadulterated terror.

It kind of hurt.

His Turtle instincts returned and he wanted to do nothing more but hide. Still, Turtles were more than just cowards in search of home. They were defenders. This boy needed Reinhard's help and he would give it.

It wasn't like he was the only one who screamed either, though he was definitely the loudest. He seemed more scared of Reinhard than the trio of gangsters, but the trio was definitely more scared of Reinhard than anything else in the world.

His tentacles chased after them automatically until Reinhard pulled them back. "Hello," he greeted the boy. The boy screamed again.

"You— you're human."

"I'm human," Reinhard confirmed then squints at his tail and reconsidered.

"Uhm, okay. This isn't weird. This is completely fine. I'm Natsuki Subaru!" The boy's vigor returned out of the blue as he jumped up, but his face was still pale.

"Reinhard van Astrea, descendant of the line of Sword Saints."

"I hope I'm not being rude or anything but like, what's with that… all that?" Subaru asked.

Ah. It's been a while since Reinhard had to explain. The world had already gotten used to the monster walking in their streets. "I am blessed by the Phoenix, patron of the Astreas. Also by the Turtle—" he gestured to his neck where scales hardened. "The Deer—" the antlers were pretty obvious, but he nodded anyway. "Axolotl—" Reinhard rolled up his sleeves just enough for Subaru to see gills flapping. "Eagle—" he extended his claws. "Leopard—" well, the tail and ears were already there, and so were the tentacles. "And Jellyfish."

"This is, like, normal here???" Subaru's confusion seemed totally genuine, which was suspicious.

"Normal might be an overstatement," Reinhard explained. "Some people are blessed by the Beasts. My case is a little different. Apart from me, who has seven blessings, the most blessings I've ever seen someone with is four." Cecilus and Vincent. "Most people, like you, don't have a single Beast looking towards them."

"Like me," Subaru echoes. "Right. So, my friend, do you happen to know a silver-haired lady that has bunny ears?"

The Bowel Hunter was unhinged, blessed with the Orca, but Reinhard's seven Beasts defended him easily. His fiery wings didn't allow anything to touch him, and his ashen ones let him fly. Even the rooftop collapsing didn't affect him, because his armored scales blocked them. His antlers got in the way somewhat, but Elsa Granhiert seemed obsessed with chopping them down, so they served as a distraction if nothing else.

Reinhard barely paid attention to the fight — the second his tentacles tapped the Bowel Hunter's legs, it was over for her.

What was more important was—

Golden hair, red eyes, Reinhard chanted internally. Felt, her name is Felt. And she hides pale blue scales underneath her scarf. Golden hair. Red eyes. Golden hair, blue scales.

Now that he looked at the other candidates properly, Reinhard had to admit that their competition was tough. All of them were blessed. All of them — and, with the exception of Lady Priscilla's knight, all of the sponsors were blessed too. Well, Reinhard couldn't actually tell what Beast hovered over Lord Roswaal, but the man was definitely not completely human.

Julius, of the Crane, his friend, had aligned himself with the Fox, Anastasia Hoshin. A powerful Beast. Ferris, blessed of the Butterfly, was of course the knight of Lady Crusch — a powerful foe, with the eyes of the Lion from her days as the fiance of Fourier Lugunica, as well as tiny Dragon scales she hated so much, but also the colourful fins of the Betta Fish. Beautiful, protective, and fierce.

Lady Priscilla was also of considerable power. Reinhard's sharp eyes had noticed scales of many colors on her skin — a kind of poisonous snake, he guessed. There was also the ears and claws of the Tiger, both enchanting and fearsome. Interestingly enough, Reinhard's Leopard senses smelled a scent familiar from all the way back to Vollachia — the Chimera — on Lady Priscilla. In comparison, her one-armed knight was not blessed by anything, but he seemed strong as well.

Lady Emilia was an interesting one, perhaps the strangest of the candidates. She did not have bunny ears, but rather those of the Arctic Hare. She also had the snowy wings of the Owl. It was strange because Lady Emilia had no particular background — how had she attracted the attention of two different Beasts?

What an interesting time this was.

"What are you doing?" Lady Felt asked when she saw him laying in the pond.

His gills flapped happily, but Reinhard had to spit out a mouthful of mud.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"Nah, just wanted to bother you. Is that fun?"

"Fun?" Reinhard thought it over. "No."

"Do you like being in the water?" Lady Felt asked.

"No," he replied.

Lady Felt huffed. "So what, you just do whatever your body wants you to do?" She sat down at the edge of the pool. "Do you know how weird your deer eyes are?"

"No one expects me to be human," Reinhard said. "Even my body is built to be a weapon, with its seven blessings."

"You're wrong," she answered. "Not the Axolotl."

Reinhard still remembered that night as clearly as if it happened just an hour ago. "I was blessed by the Axolotl when I saw the first sign I was a living weapon."

"Maybe," Lady Felt conceded. "But axolotls are about transformation and healing."

"Is there something I can help you with?" Reinhard asked again.

Her Dragon wings were still hidden, but her hair could not be. Still, Lady Felt did not wear the blessings in her blood like they were a cape, or a chain. She wore them like they were a part of herself — just Felt.

"Let yourself be human sometimes."