I cannot think, only feel. I walk with someone who is of me, but not myself. Even though my lower appendages are clearly strong, stronger than those of the one before me, I am unable to move with the grace or precision as they, falling and stumbling over myself many times. Still, I walk with them; they who are of me, but not myself.

Self. What a strange concept. Who is it? Who am I? Where- fear. As mentioned before, this person, myself, cannot think, only feel, and all he, all I, can feel is fear. I lash out and groan and let out other animalistic, inhuman sounds while the one before me jumps back, demonstrating the same thing I am experiencing. I could see it through their eyes when they turned at my rampaging: fear. The being raises one of their upper appendages at me and begins to release sounds of their own, though their sounds were more precise than mine and they carried with them a meaning I could not understand. The sounds calmed me and made me feel weary, and as the being's hand cast a soft glow upon me, I collapsed on the surface I had been walking on moments ago. It was hard and cold, much more so than my being and especially more so than of the one who walked with me. It was just as it was all those times earlier when I fell onto it. The image of the surface I laid upon, and of the being I walked with, faded and I ceased to be able to even feel.

I cannot think, only feel. It is because of this that when she spoke to me, using words, I could only comprehend them as being special sounds. Even so, I knew they were beautiful. I will always remember how beautiful both she and her words were. It is because of how beautiful her words were that I wish they could have been the first to ever fall upon these ears, but that is an impossible wish. I had already been spoken to long before she had even met me. Who said it to me, why they said it to me, I do not know. "You have it within yourself. You will be the greatest swordsman to ever exist. This, I decree."

Heat had warmed the body of my self that had turned as cold as the surface I had collapsed upon earlier. I had been brought back into this world from my earlier state of unconsciousness, but I was not experiencing the fear I had then. Instead I am laying on this surface that is much softer than where I had fallen, reflecting on those words that were spoken to me. It is strange. I cannot think, but I so clearly remember those words spoken to me and I know what they are: words. Stranger still, I know what they mean. I can see it clearly: a man standing brilliantly while firmly readying his blade. He gazes out at the starlit night, with his features so gently caressed and accentuated by the moonlight, staring solemnly at something bright forming in the distance. It is nothing special, simply his future; the path that lies ahead.

My mind whirs at this depiction while I gaze into the inferno across the room that is emitting the heat. I am not capable of conceiving "why" or of understanding the implications behind those words and that image, but I still wonder at them. While staring into the bright source of heat, the being who had taken away my consciousness entered the room. I stared at them as they walked to kneel beside the surface I was laying upon and began speaking to me once more. I noticed another being, one whose stature more closely imitated my own, standing in the entrance they entered through. I turned back to the one beside where I lay and focused on what they were saying. I wanted to know. I wanted to be able to understand what they were saying to me, but I couldn't. Still, a strange feeling came over me, as if I had to give this being something to work with.

"..You are a… swords m-man." I spoke to it with some of the only words I knew, and this made them cease to talk. Not another word was spoken once I spoke that and after the two beings lingered in the room for a while longer, they took their leave.

The first thing I learned was the difference between myself and the being who had begun caring for me. I was a "he" and they were a "she." The other one who also lived with us in these dwellings is also a "he." I knew from the beginning that we had to be different, as I was broader and taller than her, and she was much softer and delicate, in both expression and form. It is true that my body is much more similar to the other one who coexists with us, as I could tell from the times he assisted me in cleansing my body, but there was still a difference in how rough and aged he looked compared to myself. Nevertheless, this information helped to give me a better sense of my "self."

As time persisted with the humans I lived with, I began to understand the words I had being spoken to me as well as the ones I had been speaking to them. We are now having breakfast; the first meal eaten during the day. Standing behind me while I eat is Auguste. He is the other male who lives in this abode and is the one who works for the female seated across the table from me, Luvia Edelfelt. I still do not know why I live with them, but I do feel safe amongst them. I lower my fork to partake of the food, but I quickly drop it onto the table as my hand is swatted by Auguste's hand towel.

"How many times must I exclaim that you are to use this fork when eating the steak tips?" Auguste sternly states this into my ear while dramatically picking up and placing back down one of the many forks arranged next to my plate. That's right. The fork was the pronged one, not the oval shaped one, the spoon.

"Sorry… I'm s-sorry." I had been taught how to apologize and it is one of the main ways I express myself in this setting. Not because I enjoy doing so, but because it seems I always do something to displease one of the two, mainly Auguste.

"Auguste, you needn't be so harsh, he is still learning after all. In fact, you should learn to praise him from time to time for how quickly he's been adapting to this place." Auguste expresses his apology and remains silent for the remainder of our breakfast. Auguste does not eat our meals with us, "as is the way of a butler" he explains and while I'm still not quite sure what a butler is, I can only assume it is the title he uses while working under Luvia.

Once breakfast is over, we immediately move on to my lessons. I now understand that what Luvia used on me back then when she put me into a state of slumber is referred to as "magic." Magic intrigues me, but I am not quite sure how it works. Luvia performs beautiful tricks with magic and can exert it as easily as breathing, yet Auguste is unable to do any sort of magic. Luvia tells me I have great potential for magic and that it is my duty to learn it, but I don't quite understand why learning it is so important. I suppose I do want to learn it all the same, though. The thing is, even though Luvia says I have amazing potential, I don't think I have any affinity for magic and I have gotten to the point where I want to give up. It is not out of frustration, but out of fear. It is because every time I fail in the experiment Luvia has me perform, she gets a very grave expression and in it I can see desperation. I don't question it, partially out of fear, but it is mostly because I feel that asking won't change anything.

I ponder this while Luvia leads me up the stairs from the foyer by my hand. "Luvia, I know you really want me to do magic and all, but.." She gives little mind to my talk, but does respond with a light hum. I stop walking and stubbornly tug on her grip. "I don't think I can do it. We've been trying for all this time and I can't do any of your tricks yet. I want to learn, but I can't." Luvia does not turn to face me and does not let go of my wrist.

"That's foolish talk. You are plenty capable of learning magic and you will learn magic."

"But I can't do any of your tricks no matter how hard I try-" Her grip tightens on my hand. I pull away harder while whimpering slightly.

"…it's not about learning a couple of card tricks!" I heard her spit out under her breath.

"What?" I clearly heard her, but I couldn't understand what she meant.

My wrist hurt. I pulled even harder now and gasped from time to time from the pain of her nails digging into me. Luvia turned to face me when she shouted out "This is not about whether you can do a parlor trick! I'm teaching you magic, not magic tricks!" I was scared. I didn't want to keep trying to learn magic because it looked like it was hard for her, like it upset her. Now, however, she looked far more frustrated than I've ever seen her before.

"Stop…" I weakly begged. She apparently did not hear me and turned to continue ascending the last few steps of the stairs, forcefully dragging me by my hand. "Please, stop!" I yanked my arm from her grip and wrapped my other hand around my wrist, from which she managed to draw some red fluid from. I could've yanked it away the whole time, I'm far stronger than her physically, but I did not know what would happen if I opposed her. When she turned back to look at me, I was immensely frightened to see a mixture of rage and shock spread across her face.

"Stop being so" she turned her footing and adjusted the stance of her body while cocking her arm back "childish!" I didn't even raise my arms up to block my head.

Paralyzed by fear, I stood perfectly still while she punched me square in my right cheek. I fell backwards, letting my body go limp. I don't know why I conceded to her, but it must've been out of fear. One, three, six. I count the stairs I fall past as I tumble down the them. A metal post is at the base of the railing. My forehead smashes into it, right on the pronounced edges of the intricate piece. I kick off the first step and onto the marble flooring of the foyer, scooching as far away from the stairs as I can with my knees and left arm, as my right one is in immense pain for some reason. I'm exhaling heavily and can't seem to get control of my breathing. I feel a wetness on my face. A mixture of my own tears, the red fluid gushing from the gash on my forehead, and the red fluid from my busted lip were trailing down my face. The vision in my right eye becomes tinted red as it drips into it and creates a thin film over the eye. My left arm slips in the puddle I created on the floor and my head comes crashing down, slamming my chin onto the floor and making my teeth bite down hard onto the soft flesh of my tongue. Even through the pain, I push across the floor a bit more and turn my head over my shoulder to prepare if she so chose to strike me again.

At the top of the stairs, Luvia was staring down at me wide-eyed with one hand covering her mouth as tears streamed down her face. She looked down at her hand she decked me with in horror and turned over her shoulder while sniffling. "A-Auguste! Help! Please, help him! I-I-" Auguste appeared behind her faster than I figured possible and quickly assessed the situation after seeing me at the bottom of the stairs with my bloody face.

I didn't pay attention to him though, I just stared up at Luvia while my mind raced. Why did she hurt me? What did I do wrong? What am I covered in? I had seen it once before when I was watching Auguste cook steak. It was red and it dripped from the meat, as it drips from my face now. Auguste had reached me at this point and had lifted me in his arms and begun carrying me up the stairs, but I hardly noticed. I just continued staring at Luvia and she stared back at me. When Auguste reached the top and turned to take me down the hallway, I parted my lips to say something to her, and she did the same.

"Sorry", we both let out at the same time.

I regretted apologizing, not because I didn't mean it or anything, but because it hurt to move my mouth. I tentatively moved my aching tongue around in my mouth and grimaced in disgust. "Auguste, what is all this bitter red fluid?" Auguste didn't answer me immediately, as he opened the door to my bedroom and gently laid me down on my bed. This bed is the first memory I have of this place. It was the "soft surface" I woke up on that night.

A loud clang. The sounds of metal clashing against metal. I'm thinking about it again. About the beautiful swordsmanship of two men fighting under the night sky, brandishing their magnificent blades against one another. Illuminated only by the light of the moon and of the golden sparks firing off from their blades colliding. Their amazing, dignified technique… "It is your blood." I was snapped out of my day dream by Auguste finally deciding to answer me and by the stinging of whatever medicine he was using to wipe away at my forehead with.

"My blood? Huh? Blood? What are you saying is my blood?" He looked at me in slight irritation and wiped at my cut with more gusto. "Ow ow ow!"

"Be quiet, it will keep the wound clean. And, since you have apparently forgotten the question you posed me, you had asked me earlier what the crimson fluid covering you was. It is the blood from within your body. It is very essential to your life, so please refrain from losing too much." I squinted slightly at him due to the bad taste of his last comment. He says it like I tried to get all banged up…

After Auguste had thoroughly treated all my cuts and bruises, he silently left, leaving me alone on the bed in the quiet room. I wanted to reflect on what had just happened, but this room stimulates my brain to think of other things. I can see it again. They fight each other with intense fervor, not to the degree where they'd disrespect their blades or their technique, but they still fight as to kill the other. Kill? Murder, death, homicide, why do I know what this means? Such a disgusting word, such a disgusting intent, but that's all overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the two fighting. The two men are featureless, but their swords are magnificent. Those swords move as though they are the host and the two men are the tools, those swords are those two men's entire being. I just can't understand one thing. One of the men wields a sword far inferior to the other, yet he still fights, and on equal footing to boot.

I watched the two men fight for as long as the picture persisted in my mind. I had seen the fight time and time again and I have it almost completely memorized at this point, but I still watch it every time just as enthusiastically as the last. My earliest memory is of those words."You will be the greatest swordsman to ever exist." I still remember it so vividly. Ever since that day though, I have dreamed of swords. Specifically of those two men fighting with swords. My earliest memory is from 4 months ago, it was then I heard those words and it was then that Luvia brought me here to her mansion, my home. What was before that… I don't know. It was probably nothing. I begin to wonder if those words were also from a dream. It's likely, considering I can remember them so clearly, but not who said them or why I was told them. If that's so, it is by far the most vivid dream I've had to date.

I don't know how long I had been lying in the room. There's no windows or clock, only this bed, the fireplace, and the door, so I have no indicator of how long I'd been in here, but it felt like a long time. I finally managed to pull my thoughts away from swords and swordplay. I wonder what kind of memories Luvia has… Almost as if on queue, the door to the room opens and Luvia peaks her head in. I retract away instinctively from the direction of the doorway and warily look at her. She nervously returns the look for a moment before turning her back to the door and pushing it inwards while walking back into the room. I see why she did so, indicated by the tray of tea and pastries she's holding. "I thought you might like to join me for a bit of tea?"

I sipped at my tea and ate my cookies quietly, though I indulged in the latter moreso because I found it hard to take the bitter taste of the tea. Luvia seemed to notice my sparse tea sipping, "we have some cream and sugar if you'd like some in your tea?" I would've agreed, but I felt the urge to prove my maturity to her.

"No thank you, I actually prefer it by itself. My tongue is just a bit sensitive to the heat of the tea is all." A lie. She looked down at her cup sadly and mumbled out "I see." I regretted bringing up my injuries to her, but didn't really know what else to talk about. Luvia filled the silence in my stead.

"I need to apologize once more. I am sorry that I struck you in such a brutish manner. I suppose I was just scared. I didn't want you to give up on the pursuit of magic…" I could feel the sincerity in her voice and finally let myself ease up.

"I'm sorry too Luvia. I swear I won't do it again." I let out a forced chuckle, but she only reacted by biting down on her lower lip. She looked up finally with those pained eyes and stared into mine.

"Do you mean that? Do you even know what you're apologizing for?"

I was left speechless. I did not know I had nothing to apologize for. Nothing to apologize for? There has to be a reason to apologize? It's not as simple as saying sorry and the situation becomes all better? My mind raced trying to process these thoughts, and though I said nothing, Luvia seemed to almost read my mind. I thought for a moment her eyes became teary, but it must've been my imagination as she turned away and turned back to face me with a warm smile. "Nevermind, everything is alright. I accept your apology. I hope you can accept mine." I felt relief and gave her a genuine smile for the first time today.

"Of course I can!" Everything was better now. This made me happy. Luvia placed her tea down on the tray which she had set on the nightstand next to my bed and turned back to me.

"I am happy that is behind us, but we must settle another matter at hand. Your lessons. I understand you don't wish to learn magic, but it is imperative you do." She's using a lot of big words, but I can understand that for whatever reason, it's important I learn how to use magic.

"Why do I have to? I will do it if it is really that important, but I don't get it at all." She lets out an exhausted sigh and turns her gaze back to her lap.

"You just have to…"

After I sat there for a while waiting to hear the rest of her reasoning, I eventually realized she was not going to tell me anything else. "Alright I'll do it, I just hope that someday though you can tell me. I can keep a secret." She sighed with relief and raised her hand up to rub my head and sift her fingers through my hair.

"That's a good boy. You can be childish sometimes, but you're always so obedient." I could feel my face heat up and I lightly pushed her hand away.

"I am not childish! I'm a man, just like Auguste." I was embarrassed and agitated by her calling me childish, but those feelings dissipated when I saw her smile falter and the brightness in her eyes vanish.

"I see. Yes, you are indeed a full-fledged man, aren't you? Yes… you're even two years older than I…" Am I? I'm two years older than her? Two years is much longer than just four months. Wait-

"Luvia, how old are you?" She shook off her glum expression and quietly answered

"I am currently 18 years old" while avoiding my gaze. What? 20 years… I've been alive for 20 years? Where is the time from before then? From before the four months? I can't possibly have lived for that long! Luvia began picking up the various plates and saucers we used and stacked them on the tray. She stood up, still not looking at me and picked up the tray, while making her way to the door. I shakily turned towards her, "w-wait!" She still refused to look at me while she balanced the tray on one hand and reached back to pull the door closed with the other.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you so late. We will begin lessons once more tomorrow." She closed the door without saying another word and I listened as her footsteps faded into the distance.

"Luvia!" I got out of the bed, onto my feet, and staggered to the door. "Luvia! Wait! W-Where am I!?" I wasn't thinking straight and I was aware of that fact, but I was slowly growing more and more scared. I reached the door and attempted to open it, but it wouldn't budge. She had locked it from the outside. "Luvia… Luviaaaaa!" I banged on the door, but I couldn't hope to force it open. Just like the swords in my dreams, it was made of cold steel. I took a step back from the door and, without thinking, drove my right fist into it as hard as I could. I screamed. My wrist had already been sprained and now something within my hand cracked. It hurt, but even more than that it made me even more terrified than I already was. I struck at the doorway time and time again with that fist, mimicking the way Luvia drove her punch, screaming each and every time, but no one came. "WHERE AM I?!" I knew where I was, but at the same time I didn't. "WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!" I knew who they were, but at the same time I didn't. "…I'm scared…" I fell to my knees and let my crushed hand, slick with blood, slide down and off the metal door as I fell. I felt the tears overflowing from my eyes again and my nose was dripping with snot as I sniveled and cried on the floor, staring up at the door. "Who… who am I… ?"

.

.

.

.

.

.

That,

I did not know.

I did not know who I was. In self, or in name…

A catalyst reacts. Tempered steel folded a million times shatters finally. Magma leaks from the core and flows throughout the faults. A glass vein shatters. The conduit breaks.

I stand to my feet. My body is breaking, but I will let it be known first. A mark. I have to leave a mark. So that even should I forget, they won't. My right arm cannot be used again, so I will use my other. I raise it. I can feel the power through every limb, every organ, every cell. I can see it. Through my incandescent blood leaking through my eyes, my mouth, nose, and the cracks forming in my skin. I pull back my arm and twist my torso to the extent my body will allow. This amount of torque will surely be enough. And so, my body uncoils and I drive the palm of my hand into the door, but even I am not a fool. I know no physical exertion I perform will make this door budge… so I reach deeper into myself and force something out of me that can unhinge this door; something that can pave the way, my way. And so a violent wave ripples throughout my body and escapes from my arm. It expels from the base of my forearm to the tips of my fingers, shredding all the flesh on the way until it hits the door upon which it expands. No longer a force, but something more. The incandescent, crimson blood rages and becomes a raging luminescent, blue cyclone. The door flies away from my palm, seemingly with no resistance, and is shredded into sparkling dust along with everything that stood around and in front of myself. I watch, weakly and in awe, as the devouring cyclone shreds its way from the hallway and straight through the roof of the mansion. I take a step forward, as if to follow it, and continue to do so until I am outside of what used to be my room and onto the ruined floor of the hallway.

All energy leaves my body once I exit the room. Stepping into that hallway was my final act of rebellion. I collapse. I do, however, manage to turn over and look up at the great hole I made in the roof and through it I can see the night sky. This… is my first time seeing it. Though I had seen it many times before in my dreams, this moment is the first time I was able to see the stars and the moon hanging so perfectly up there. It was just as perfect as the ones in my dream. I look over at my right arm which had been broken and shattered from mindlessly pounding at the door and then I look to my left which has had all the skin rended from the flesh from the cascade of energy. And then I felt the puddle of blood formed beneath me from all the gouts of it leaving my body. I guess I forgot, Auguste… to hold onto it. I look one last time at the beautiful, magnificent night sky. But at least with this I know… This mark I left proves it. It gives me validity...

I am someone.