HAPPY HALLOWEEN! NeonClan October Monthly Writing Contest ;) Since the theme was changed last minute, I couldn't do much to edit it, but I tried my best. Takes place in the Alvarez arc, and probably an alternate universe because knowing Hiro Mashima, we will get a backstory for Brandish in the next few chapters and this will turn into an AU e.e
Enjoy~
"ᴴᵒʷ ᴵ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵃᶰᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʷᵒ ᵈᶤᶠᶠᵉʳᵉᶰᵗ ᵗʰᶤᶰᵍˢˑ ᴵᵗ ᵐᶤᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃᶰᶰᵒʸᶤᶰᵍ˒ ᵇᵘᵗ ᶤᶠ ᶤᵗ'ˢ ᵃᶰ ᵒʳᵈᵉʳ˒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏᶰᵒʷ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵒᶰ ᶤᵗˑ"
Brandish μ reclined back in her fancy chair, finally left alone by Marin, an annoying mage in her "squad." He would never stop pestering her, just adding to the stress of being the leader. But Brandish never let that show. She carefully tucked away that thought, forcing herself to convince herself that she was cool-headed, lax Brandish, member of the Spriggan 12, mage of mass manipulation magic, one of the most powerful beings ever. She couldn't ever be 'scared' or 'nervous.' That wasn't in her script.
Suddenly, a memory popped up in her head. Before she could push it down, it immmersed her, and she was forced to remember.
A green-headed young girl giggled and laughed up a rain storm as she swung faster and faster on the tiny town's playground's swing set. "Faster, Daddy! Faster!" she yelled out with glee to the middle-aged man pushing her.
The man strained with all the heavy lifting, but he too had a grin on his face, just like his daughter. The swing seemed to get a little bit smaller- but neither of them noticed.
Finally, as the little girl reached the peak of the swing set, she jumped off of the swing with a flying leap, landing and swiveling towards her father with joy. "Didja see that, Daddy? Didja see me? That was a perfect jump! And..."
She continued babbling on and rambling, and the man chuckled. "Yes, that was amazing, my dear Brandish."
With a pang, Brandish recalled the man she had called 'Daddy.' No, no, no, push it back! Restrain it! You have to keep your worry-free facade! she internally screamed at herself. It would not do good to keep on remembering...
Two years later, the young girl was not so little anymore. She was too old for hanging out with Daddy. But she didn't have any real friends either. So Brandish hung out with herself, silently moping a bit inside while she tossed around pebbles.
One day, she was by herself. Her father had recently been kept at work more often, and today, she just couldn't keep the anger inside. She tossed up a pebble, and imagined that it was her father's employer, for keeping him away. Brandish yelled out in ultimate rage at the pebble, and with a dark suction sound, the pebble shrank to the size of a speck.
"What in the world..." Brandish muttered, staring wide-eyed at the pebble-speck. She absent-mindedly clutching her chest next to her heart, which had chosen right then to beat irregularly. It was almost as if a tiny bit of it had been flushed into black darkness. But that didn't matter right now, with the case at hand.
Brandish breathed heavily, still not believing what she was seeing. She took a step back towards home, to call her father, and with a small gasp, she slipped down, clunked her head, and passed straight out.
She shivered slightly at the memory of first discovering her magic, fighting to keep a perfect visage. If you worry too much, it'll explode out! Brandish scolded herself silently. But before she could help it, she was swept away by another recollection.
The next day, Brandish found herself in an empty and eerily silent room.
"Hello?" she called out nervously, spooked out. She took a small, slow step towards the door, wondering where the heck she had been transported to. It probably had something to do with the pebble. Was she sick? Had they taken her to a hospital for her to be researched and studied and plucked over? Oh no, oh no, oh no-
As the worry and anxiety built up again, Brandish felt the floor rumble ever so quietly, and she shuddered in fear. Not to mention, her heart felt a little bit odd and off, just like it had the day of the pebble.
With a small creak, the door began to open. Brandish held her breath, but it was merely her father who crossed over the threshold into the unfamiliar room she was currently residing in.
She let out a little sigh. "Dad, where am I?"
"Sweetie, you're in your bedroom," he responded, eyebrows carefully knit and faint dark circles under his eyes, most likely from sleep deprivation. Oh no. Had she caused him trouble? Had she worried him?
Anyway, Brandish was still confused. "But where's all my stuff?" she asked, looking around to see if she was that oblivious to have missed her belongings. But nope, the room still appeared empty to her.
Her father didn't respond at first. "...Brandish, honey, this is going to be hard to get used to... but you've got dangerous magic, according to the doctors." Ah, so they had brought her to the doctors.
"They didn't specify much, except that you have mass manipulation magic, and it's really bad for your body system when you use it," he continued on. Ah, that probably explained the heart thing.
Wait... "Dad, what's going to happen to me now? What will happen to me?" Brandish worried, eyes widening, preparing for despair and broken hopes, even if they were foolish, to stay warm and cuddled up for the rest of eternity. That bubble would go pop in a moment.
He shook his head sadly. "Alas, my dear, I do not yet know. But all we can do now is limit you from using your magic too much, so we keep you happy and safe, and we just hope that Emperor Spriggan doesn't find out, and enlist you," he said, the last part being quieter, almost a whisper. There was rumor going around that the Emperor had been swooping up powerful mages and forming an army, but she hadn't had confirmation yet.
Both of them said no more, and the father left the empty room without a sound, leaving Brandish alone with her awkwardly beating black heart.
There was a knock on the door, and Brandish nearly jumped up in surprise, her old heart problems catching up with her, even though she had barely used her heart in years.
"Marin, go away," she called out, a frown landing on her face. Goshdangit, her partner was so annoying. Why couldn't he leave her alone for once? Why couldn't people respect her?
Three months later
She was still in the spooky room then, all alone. There was a sudden scraping noise, and a tray of food was pushed through the newly installed cat-flap. Her father, evidently the bringer of her dinner, leaned down and peered through the flap, his little sad smile shining through.
Brandish merely looked away, even more hurt. Couldn't they obviously see that this wasn't the way to go with her? Couldn't they see that this was only paining her even more, taking away more bits and pieces of hearts, and sending her spinning out of control?
Her father broke into her thoughts. "Say hi to Layla though, Brandish dear. She's a celestial mage just traveling through the continent for a few months, and I invited her to stay with us." At the mention of this 'Layla', his smile perked up, and a more feminine face replaced his at the opening.
"Hello, Brandish," a sweet voice sung out. Sweet like candy. But it seemed too sweet. Everything seemed too sweet, now that she was being forced to be kept joyful.
"Why do you guys have to control me and feed to me like this?" she murmured, really just talking to herself.
There was a pause. "Your power isn't good for you, and we want to keep you safe. If not that your father and now I are concerned about your heart slowly spiraling into oblivion, at least, we want to keep the continent safe," Layla said softly.
But Brandish wanted to take that softness and sweetness and utterly murder it. She didn't want sympathy now. She didn't want to be protected, or for the world to be protected from her. Slowly spiraling into oblivion, yes, but might as well have fun during the final countdown.
Spiraling into oblivion... that was certainly still true. Over the past few years, Brandish had trained herself to be void of all emotion, the stimulation that was her downfall in the beginning. She could use her power once in a while if it was needed... but most of the time, she molded her face into an expression of boredom. Saying 'I don't care.'
She had lost track of days now, locked up in her prison cell of 'happiness.' She couldn't take her father's forced smile, and then real smile with Layla, who was just a traveler. She couldn't take being protected or something needing to be protected from her; she couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't bear losing her lifestyle just because of some magic.
So, Brandish took her long nails, and chipped off a tiny part of the wall carefully. Slowly, she expanded the hole until it was large enough to fit a human girl through, ignoring the sharper pangs in her heart as she sent her hart downwards and downwards.
The newly formed runaway just stood outside of the house for a moment, doubting her decision. But it was for the better. Determinedly, she marched over to Emperor Spriggan's castle. If she became one of the Spriggan 12, she could survive, and get revenge on Layla and her family, for making her father no more than plastic when he was around his daughter.
Tch, spiraling into oblivion. Maybe she would use that darkness to her advantage.
To Brandish's utter dismay, Marin burst into the room anyway. Before he could say anything, though, he was shrunken down to miniature size. She shuddered at having another outburst like that... She must make it seem purposefully done.
"Paint my nails," she ordered him, wiping her system blank. She stopped paying attention to anything that was going on, and kind of just zoned out.
Spiraling into oblivion... Then so be it.