"Please! Teach me how to use the Lapse!"
Yuuri's request comes out breathy and impatient, and he knows it. The tinge of desperation that clings to the air is almost tangible; matching the dirty clouds that hang heavily in the brisk autumn sky. The room is dark, and only fuzzy outlines of antique armchairs are visible to the human eye.
Neither Yuuri nor the old man he speaks to is human.
Both inhabitants of the room can see fine embroidery stitched into large velvet curtains and numerous porcelain teacups scattered across a dainty dresser.
"No," the old man replies. The man stretches his arm and grabs a teapot. With a steady hand, he quickly pours a steaming liquid into two cups. After taking a sip, the old man gestures at Yuuri and raises an eyebrow.
"Well?"
Yuuri picks up the teacup and downs it all in one go. He sets the cup down and stares directly into the eyes of the old man.
"Why not?"
The old man sighs and then also sets down his cup.
"Youngsters nowadays," the man grumbles. "When I was your age I had to climb three mountains every day for a year and a half before my teacher even thought about letting me hold a pair of scissors, let alone a Time Scythe."
Then, in the blink of an eye, the old man raises his eyebrow again and, with a flick of his wrist, aims a long needle at Yuuri's face.
Yuuri steps to the side in an almost imperceptible manner, and the needle flies past his ear; impaling a stray teacup that sat on top of a low shelf.
"You're a quick one," the old man cackles. "Alright then, I'll humor you. What do you want?"
Yuuri clenches his jaw.
"Train me. Show me how to use the Lapse."
The old man's face drains of its mirth, and his long white hair brushes the side of his face he slowly shakes his head.
"I have already said no."
"It is all I want."
"Look here boy," the old man says. "I commend you for having the guts and resources to actually find me. But I will not, will not, teach you to use that damn Lapse. You're fourteen at best, what will you do?"
"I need the Lapse," Yuuri whispers. "I'm not anything right now. I need to be better than this. I don't have anything but if I had the Lapse-!"
Yuuri's voice grows louder and louder until he's close to screaming.
"Please, Clockmaster! You can teach it to me!"
The old man, the Clockmaster, stands up and grabs Yuuri by the shoulders with trembling hands.
"Is this because of that blasted new Junior Promotion Program?"
"What?"
"Answer me!" The Clockmaster snarls. "Is this because of the Junior Promotion Program?"
Seconds tick by until Yuuri mumbles a reluctant 'yes'.
The Clockmaster yanks his hands away from Yuuri and turns to face two arching windows. It's raining heavily now, with lightning flashing across the sky.
"You don't need the Lapse," the Clockmaster says. "What would a kid like you do with Class A techniques anyways? You don't even have the tools to activate a Lapse. Besides," the Clockmaster turns around and looks at Yuuri. "you're a Time Arbitrator. It doesn't matter if you get a promotion now or in the next century. It's not like you'd ever run out of time."
"You don't understand!" Yuuri wrings his hands together and stares down at the plush carpet.
"This is for me! If I never show new skills- never show talent- then it won't matter how much time I have. I'm disposable! A dime-a-dozen Arbitrator that the Organization could replace without a moment's hesitation."
Yuuri gasps for air and struggles to keep his voice even. "You're my last hope, Clockmaster. I know I'm not much but please. Please."
The quiet desperation that was once in the air now blankets over them, smothering the two figures under a layer of misplaced hope. The Clockmaster can't help but pity the boy.
"I'm sorry," he begins. His tone is heavy, and his age finally shows through the bitter expression on his face. "You're much too young to have to worry about inter-organizational politics. You have promise; just not experience. Be patient Yuuri."
In that instant, the Clockmaster seems like a very old, very weary man.
"We all know that prominence is to rock as talent is to scissors. You do have talent Yuuri, but you can't cut your way through the ranks with skill alone."
Yuuri lifts his head and fixes his eyes, brown and piercing, on the Clockmaster.
"You did it. You patented the Lapse, all on your own, at the age of nineteen. You rose through the ranks, all on your own. You did it!"
"That was a long time ago."
The Clockmaster pauses and says, "I was young then. And boy?"
"Yes?" Yuuri replies.
"That was before the Organization destroyed the only thing that made me happy. My son."
Yuuri doesn't know what to say to that. Nothing and no one had ever mentioned the Clockmaster's son.
"Bet you didn't see that one coming, did you?"
The Clockmaster laughs, but it's harsh and grating- nothing like the exuberant sound Yuuri had heard before.
"But never mind that," the Clockmaster dismisses. "There's no love lost between the Organization and me, and I'd hate for those bastards to sink their claws into you. Be patient and train your mind and body; you'll be popular enough to catch their attention soon."
"Then what am I supposed to do? You tell me to be patient and train but what does that even mean? I'm not a goddamn movie protagonist! I don't know how to train!"
Yuuri hates boiling feelings of hopelessness but he's clueless. Without guidance he's nothing.
"You dumb kid."
The Clockmaster groans and reaches up to ruffle Yuuri's hair.
"Arbitrators exist solely to fix errors in space-time, and in the space-time of universes other than Universe One. You idiots exist to help the world, not to cause drama. Go home, Yuuri. Go enrolling in advanced courses or something and practice. And for the love of all that's good, take some assignments and work your way up. You can't expect to stop a mass genocide if you can't even prevent a minor traffic collision."
"You know," Yuuri says. "You're an Arbitrator too, Clockmaster."
The Clockmaster quirks his lips and slaps Yuuri on the back, causing the boy's glasses to fly off his face.
"I'm retired. But you get the point now, kid?" The Clockmaster asks. "You aren't nothing, you just have incredibly low self-esteem. Work on that."
Yuuri takes a step closer to the Clockmaster and swoops his upper body down in a deep bow.
"Thank you."
The Clockmaster smiles and says, "I look forward to the day you beat the Organization into submission. But take it easy kid, life's not about flashy abilities and high ranks. Make some allies first."
With those parting words, the Clockmaster takes out a small golden pocket watch and opens up the glass face. He slides the minute hand until it points to the VII mark, and then disappears in a brief flash of light.
Yuuri stands alone in the dim room, next to two cups: one empty and one half-full with cold tea. It's about time he returns to Universe One.
He's been chasing after the Clockmaster for long enough.