Author's Note: Konnichiwa! This little one-shot came about on a whim. I wanted to write about one of my more favorite supporting characters, one of which happened to be Jillas from Slayers TRY. It's a little different from most of my writing projects, being as its more down-to-earth and lacking in the Xellos department, LOL. It's just a cute little story about Jillas thinking on his life on a rainy day. Let me know what you think! All questions, comments, and/or suggestions are welcome!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Slayers. I just like to write for fun. ^_^
Home is Where the Heart Is
by Kuroneko
Jillas Jillos Jilles looked at his reflection in the newly polished silver teapot and sighed, causing the image to fog up. He looked up and out the nearby window, the pitter-patter of the rain his only companion.
It had been two years since the Dark Star incident. It sometimes felt that it all had been a lifetime ago, hunting with Boss Gravos for the weapons Lord Valgaav had desired, and watching as the world suddenly began to crumble.
And yet, somehow, it often felt like only yesterday…
He cast a glance over at the small basket on the table in the corner of the workroom. Boss Filia had asked him to watch over that basket until she and Boss Gravos returned from the market. Jillas was more than happy to take the job – the egg in the basket was Lord Valgaav reborn, waiting until he was ready to hatch. The red foxman owed the once-monster his life, and as far as Jillas was concerned, his vow to remain by his savior's side carried on even if said savior no longer remembered the incident.
Jillas would never forget. He could still remember the smell of those men who'd attacked his village, still remember the curses they'd thrown at the foxpeople. Theirs had been one of the more peaceful tribes: they traded fairly with the humans and worked hard. They raised their children respectably, and never forgot a debt. In truth, they'd been amongst the more honorable of tribes.
But that hadn't stopped it all from escalating, oh, no. all it took was a small handful of the rogue tribes, the more infamous of their kind, attacking unsuspecting travelers and burning small villages. Just a few of the wrong sort and Jillas lost virtually everything. His mother, his father, all of his brothers and sisters – gone. He'd even lost the foxgirl he'd hoped to have as his mate. Those who hadn't been killed by the humans lost their lives in the aftermath.
If it hadn't been for Lord Valgaav, Jillas might not have survived, either.
But now, Jillas had a home. Here, in Filia Ul Copt's proud little shop, Vases and Maces, located in the confines of a small town just outside the reaches of where the Demon Barrier used to stand. Trade flourished in this tiny seaside town, and all the humans were just as decent and friendly as he could hope. The neighborhood children had startled him a bit at first, not shying away from his strange appearance but instead welcoming it. Maybe in the past it would have bothered him a bit, but the routine of being bombarded by little kids just so they could play with his tail, touch his fur, or simply beg for him to play a game of catch had become such a part of his new life that he readily welcomed it.
Jillas smiled a little and shook his head. He was getting sentimental again. That seemed to happen a lot when he was alone with Lord Valgaav's egg.
'Little Boss Valteira,' he corrected himself, remembering that Boss Filia had declared she'd give the newborn ancient a new start at life with a new name. A bit odd, they all agreed, but it seemed fitting. "Val" would always be a good nickname.
He put the teapot back on the shelf and settled back into his seat. Ordinarily, he'd go out to the back shed Boss Filia had condemned his hobbies to and fiddle about with his latest gunpowder recipe, but the wet weather prevented him from doing so today. The shop was closed for the afternoon, and there was nothing left to clean.
"I never thought I'd be sittin' 'ere in a 'ome with people 'o genuinely loved me," he told the little egg in the basket. "I thought I'd be stuck out there an' wanderin' all alone. Funny, idnit?"
He cast a glance over to the egg, which continued to glow its warm color light. Jillas smiled. He had no basis for it, but it was his solemn belief that the tiny form within that egg could hear everything they all said and did. Boss Gravos hadn't really believed it, but Boss Filia did. She encouraged them all to make a point of speaking to the egg at least once in a while. She did it practically every time she passed by it.
"I wonder if you ever 'ad that same feeling," he continued, looking back out to the gloom. "You, an' me an' Boss Gravos – all of us, even Boss Filia. I think we was all lonely at one point." He chuckled and shook his head. "An' all it took with the world fallin' round our ears to bring us all together. That's what they calls irony, that is."
In the reflection, he caught the egg pulsate in response. That warmed the foxman's heart considerably.
"An' look at us now: two 'ole years, an' everythin's changed. I ain't lonely no more, an' Boss Gravos found out that 'e likes pottery a lot. Boss Filia's gotten a lot more confidence than she used to, and me, I've –"
"Oi, Dad! I'm home!" a voice called out as the back door flung open, the bell tinkling merrily with the open and close.
Jillas called back to the voice and turned his attention to the door, where a tiny foxboy skittered in, a school satchel on his back.
"They let us out of school early, 'cause of the rain!" the lad said cheerfully, whiskers dripping wet from the downpour.
The foxman grinned at the soppy wet child before him and shook his head. "An' did you go an' jump in all the puddles, Palou?"
"Of course!"
At this, Jillas laughed. "You'd best changed those wet clothes an' mop up before Boss Filia an' your Mum come back 'ome. You know 'ow the boss is about 'er floor getting wet."
Palou looked down and laughed before giving the foxman a nod and dashing out the door, whiskers, tail, and clothes dripping onto Filia's hard wood flooring.
Jillas laughed again. A year after he came to live with Boss Filia, he'd asked for time off to "take care of business". That "business" had been finding the mother and son that had taken care of him when he thought Lord Valgaav and Boss Gravos had died. If it hadn't been for them, Jillas was certain he would have made himself his last ever test subject for explosives. Not long after, he'd married the Palou's mother, and they'd all moved into Filia's home. Filia herself had been utterly delighted at the idea of Jillas starting a family; Gravos had waited until he caught Jillas alone before clapping him on the back with a hearty "Congratulations!" and sending poor Jillas flying into a large piece of pottery that he was stuck in for a good twenty minutes before Boss Filia found out.
He got out of the comfortable chair he'd been sitting in and went in search of a mop. Linking his arm under the handle of the basket, he took the egg along into the kitchen, setting it down gently on the counter before going into the broom closet.
"Jillas, we're home!" a cheerful voice called out from the back door, immediately followed by, "Oh! What happened to my floor?"
"Sorry, Miss Filia!" Palou's voice sailed down from the second floor. "I'll clean it up right away!"
"I've got it taken care of!" Jillas yelled loud enough for both parties to hear as he grabbed the mop and bucket. Cleaning up a little bit of water wasn't a problem. There were worse things besides, like the messes that always came about whenever that irritating priest with purple hair and the staff showed up. The priest himself didn't make the messes himself, though: that honor went to Boss Filia.
Closing the broom closet, Jillas allowed himself another sentimental smile. Home is where the heart is, at least what they said. In all his years of life, he never thought he'd have another home like he had back when all his family and friends were still alive. It had taken nearly blowing himself to smithereens, watching death and destruction, and seeing the world on the brink of annihilation through purification to get to this point, but here he was.
For Jillas, it was all worth it.