Rue de Cascades
Balthier encounters far and too many adventures since then that make him forget the boys face after the years have eventually passed, but he remembers the encounters all the same. In Lowtown, in the winter, when the heavy rains have passed over from the Giza Plains to Rabanastre and the world outside was an ethereal grey film – so they head down, to the underground city of open steaming dishes and nests of barrels and children with light fingers.
Fran doesn't like it here, he knows, and he doesn't have to look at the line under her violet eye or the crease across her brow to tell. She doesn't like seeing the giggling children running in tatters across the low-set courtyard, or the sombre ones guarding the entrance to the Garamsythe Waterway, where drunken Seeq's roll and shout at each other across dark, echoing walkways.
So Balthier says nothing, and Fran walks away, the lazy wave she gives him with her back turned the only way he knows she'll ever return.
Balthier buys a steamed sort of fish from a vendor in the courtyard, checks that his purse is still securely hidden, and wanders.
Remembering back years later is hard for Balthier. His mind keeps throwing up unnecessary details (the smoky, watery taste of the fish, the smell of incense and tobacco from the narrow lantern lit stores, the distant screech of monkey-animals chasing each others tales across the damp stone) so as to distract him for the peculiar instance that took place.
The fact was this was the first time he met Vaan.
But of course, he doesn't realise this until years later.
All he knew then was that he was strolling around until he discovered one of the numerous – if not very well known – exits to the ground above, which looked out onto a street once ridden with sand carried from the Westersand and the Giza Plains and was now ridden with a murky orange mud. There were numerous large barrels scattered around, and Balthier had long since finished his fish, so he leans against the uncomfortable brick wall, attempts to look nonchalant, and sighs pointedly.
"My blouse is completely soaked through, my partner is rather upset, and I have no way of getting to my airship in this droll weather, so I wouldn't test my mood if I were you."
The small boy, sitting atop one of the highest barrels, glances at him once and then looks back at the rain.
"So?" he replies sullenly. He has a dusky sort of skin, and wild platinum hair that Balthier fleetingly thinks would be better suited to finer clothes and a place in New Archades. But the smudges of dirt and the healed over scabs on his elbows suggests otherwise.
"So," Balthier sighs, "I would like my purse back, if you please."
The boy throws it at him. He doesn't even glance at Balthier, even when the man remains and fondles the purse thoughtfully, thinking it definitely lighter than it was. He clears his throat, but the boy is already talking.
"Doesn't matter anyway. Only feeding one, now."
"Oh?" Balthier murmurs, feigning interest as he raises his eyebrows with another sigh and stows the purse away. He realises he should count himself lucky that he received anything back at all, he half expected the boy to sell everything down to the crimson stitching.
"My brother's dead, you know." The boy says. Balthier glances at him. The boy has clear, bright eyes that are red at the corners, and his small jaw is clenched. With the grey shield of rain as a backdrop, he seems like something out of a story - or Eruyt village, perhaps. With this wry thought in mind, Balthier bows his head.
"I'm sorry."
"Well, he's not dead yet." The boy says, and by the way his voice hitches slightly Balthier knows he's attempting admirably to keep from crying. "But he left. For the army. You know. To get us some more money so we wouldn't go hungry."
Balthier's hand goes unconsciously to his purse, but he stays silent.
"So he'll be dead soon," the boy continues, and Balthier can't tell if the water on his face is from the rain or from… "Any day now. Bet you never go hungry." He continues, and finally turns to stare sullenly at Balthier.
"Not for food." Balthier replies smoothly.
Suddenly the rain grows far too heavy for conversation to continue, as it is a roar against the metal roofs and the barrels the boy is seated on. Balthier thinks he isn't the only one thankful, when he doesn't have to try and scrounge up comfort he'd never received (and therefore never learnt how to give), and the boy doesn't have to pretend he's not crying.
But Balthier leaves the purse beside him on the barrel, and when the boy looks at him, he says:
"For your brother, when he returns."
But the boy doesn't hear, and Balthier knows he doesn't hear, so he only smooths down his vest and, tipping an invisible hat to the rain, disappears into the heat and throng of Lowtown, leaving the Boy with No Brother alone on the steps.
***
"My brother, Reks, he died." Vaan says over a drink, years later, and still casts an unsure glance to the tavern below, where Basch is ordering a second round.
"My sympathies," Balthier replies, nodding his head. He swiftly tries to change the subject, but that strangely sombre look has taken over the boys face, and his bright eyes are dimmed somewhat despite the candelabras.
"I never had a brother," he attempts lamely, "you must think yourself lucky to have one that will join the army just to keep you alive, if only for a little while."
"I never told you that." Vaan says. His cheeks are flushed with colour and drink, and his lips are red from eating. He has boyishness about him, but it's a boyishness being stretched out and grown from, and the line of his collarbone and the shadow of his jaw are strangely fascinating in the tavern light.
"Yes you did," Balthier says, smiling wryly and taking a deep drink from his goblet, holding the rim with the tips of his fingers, "every child of Lowtown did, at one point or another."
Vaan stares at him with confusion.
"It's a sorry place, this town." Balthier remarks, swallowing and standing. Vaan joins him.
"So sorry," he snorts, but it has no feeling. He's scrubbing the back of his neck with exhaustion as they leave. "Where are we going?"
"For a walk," Balthier sighs, stretching his arms as they ascend the steps to Rabanastre, "It's been too long."
Vaan smiles impishly, dark skin against surprisingly white teeth and follows him out into the thundering rain, until the two shadows disappear into the grey.
***
"I don't understand it." Penelo's head is on the table, and Ashe as an expression on her face, which betrays her compulsion to berate her for it.
"What?" she sighs instead, drumming her fingers against her glass.
"Balthier. He says one thing, and does another. And usually Vaan's so straightforward, but ever since they've started hanging out he's turned the same. He's acting so strange."
"Maybe nothing needs to be said?" Fran speaks unexpectedly, her long ears swivelling to listen to the rain.
***
"You're completely soaked." Balthier berates, rubbing a towel through Vaan's hair, as they stand, half-naked in the inn room, listening to the boy's laughter, his eyes awash with tears.