Those With Courage
On we go.
This thing seems to be metamorphosing underneath my very nose. Into what, I can't really say, but I've started envisioning a greater focus on Karel – in particular his past and his philosophy (part of which is emblazoned on the summary).
Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem or any related intellectual properties (IPs) – they belong to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems, Inc.
Chapter 1: Burning Wish
"…" Both remained silent, but the tension lingered in the air with her request. She folded her hands, an odd blend of fear and anticipation brimming in her eyes. However even-minded and cold she could be, both in voice and action, her eyes would always betray her emotions to him. Such was simply how she was, from their days under the same roof, to even now, as adults. He blinked once, then twice, not trusting himself to speak until he had a fitting response, until he could maintain his calm demeanor and voice.
"…No," he eventually replied, turning away from her.
As she was not given to hysterics, only the slightest hint of frustration and despair entered her voice as she asked, "Why not?" Others might not have heard it, but again, she was never able to conceal her emotions from him entirely. However immune she had been to the insanity brought by the sub-society of young adulthood, she still had her troubles and pains, and he had been the one she turned to in those times of trouble. And so he had learned to understand her, perhaps beyond the threshold of mere siblings. Their bond, it seemed, was unique.
He chuckled, a faint tone of amused derision entering his voice. "You and I are not meant to tread all our paths in life together, Akari. We are family, but we remain distinct. Far more than three years separates us.
"Studying the sword has taught me much. It steadies me in the place of sleep. It is a brace for my mind, a fount of healing for what insomnia has brought me. You suffer from no such malady, Akari. You are in no need of such mental reinforcement…and so you have no use for the way of the sword."
He could feel her gaze boring into the back of his head, and so he turned to look her in the eye. Again, the faint pleading was there in her eyes, however cool and detached the rest of her was. Perhaps only his eyes could see it. Perhaps he was the only one she would expose herself like this to. It was a mystery that would vex him for some years.
"You say it has brought you knowledge, nii-san. You say it has brought you peace. If that is so, then what harm is there in my seeking that enlightenment? I want to know what it has given you, what it can offer."
He laughed once more. "You have followed me through many of the paths I tread. Sometimes, I wonder if you will always do so…" Pausing only briefly, he continued, "This…loyalty…why? Why does it drive you like this?"
She bit her lip in a rare, open display of pensive nervousness. Clearly, this was a subject she did not often devote extensive amounts of thought to. Neither did he, but he often had more pressing concerns, chief among them his mental state.
She eventually replied, with a gentle smile and a half-exasperated tone of voice, "You are my brother…all our lives, we have been together. Why should it end here?"
The elder brother's gaze petrified, devoid of expression. Of course…
"You have always been this way, have you not? So pure of heart…" Pausing briefly, he continued in a less nostalgic tone with, "So much more the reason for you to never raise a blade – in all your days."
"What?" Akari murmured, willing away the flush in her cheeks. "Why would I-"
"Long have I followed the way of the sword," he interrupted. "It has taught me much, but it has shown me more. I have felt the blackest pits of the soul…a curse of bloodlust."
Ignoring the puzzled shock on her face, he continued, "All who follow the way of the sword will learn…in the hands of men, it yearns, longs to tear flesh asunder, to rend and bleed. It brings a hunger for slaughter to those who seek its mastery, something an age of peace and the rise of technology cannot change. Even now, all weapons bring a thirst for power and blood to those who wield them. …This thirst should remain unknown to a gentle soul such as your own."
Less alert than he would have preferred, he was caught unawares by his sister's sudden embrace. He eventually returned the hug with a slight, clumsy hesitance. Were it not for the serious nature of their conversation, Akari might have giggled – however gentle and kind he was, her brother was not one to openly express affection.
"Why?"
Her softly whispered question caught Hikaru off guard, and he regarded her with a measure of puzzlement.
"Why do you have to suffer like this,nii-san?" she repeated, her question muffled by his shirt. "Your insomnia, your studies…these towering expectations of you from your career…and now this? I…I wish things weren't like this. That you could have had a simpler life…"
"Akari." Curt and clipped, his tone of voice caught her attention firmly, as did his pulling his arms away.
"We can wish for everything, and we achieve nothing. I will simply be who I am, and I will not hold back in my endeavors. …Some say I am too young to be in professional research. Some say I am not meant to advance so fast at such a young age. What they say matters not. I am not afraid of these trials.
"…And if I must bear these burdens as a price for my courage…then so be it. Such is fate, and I cannot escape it, nor will I run from it. Take heart, Akari. I am stronger than this."
With a rare, dim smile, she stepped away and replied, "As am I. So be it, then – if you insist on facing such pains, then at least you can face them alongside someone else."
"Did you not hear me, Akari? I will not-"
"You should know by now, brother – you never win these arguments…besides, if you don't teach me, you know I'll-"
"No. You would not be discerning enough to find a sufficiently competent instructor, nor would you be able to develop enough skill to rival mine. You will not find a superior school of swordsmanship than the one I studied…and sensei branded me the acme of Shinmei Kaze-ryuu. Were it not for my other tasks, I would head the school in sensei's stead…so if you truly will be so stubborn about learning the sword, you will at least need a suitable teacher."
"Alright," she replied, nervous anticipation breaking out on her face, "so show me how good a teacher you are, nii-san."
Karel slowly opened his eyes, allowing the memory to fade. Glancing up, he observed that the incense on the shrine he had just lit was beginning to burn out. Putting his hands together and bowing respectfully to the shrine and the portrait once more, he rose from his knees. "In time, Akari…in time, we shall meet again. But not before my work is done, and my time is past. There are still those who need me…and you and I both would never forgive me for failing them."
Turning away from the aging picture before it could rouse memories of old, he left the small room. Behind him, the thin wisps of smoke and wafting scent from the incense sticks failed to obscure the photo – a slender, beautiful young woman with long ebony hair and a small smile standing behind a man of similar constitution and good looks seated on a bench, a likewise muted mirth on his face, her arms around his shoulders in an amicable hug.
Returning to his study, he sat down in a large leather chair and plucked from his oaken desk a large tome on Sacaen martial arts, a small bookmark with foreign characters printed on it cloaked in the many pages. The sword has tempted me with the promise of blood, has shown me its taste…so I will continue the path of the sword to further overcome this affliction, to master the blade as sensei had…to truly become kensei…
The sounds of a series of vehicles parking outside his spacious dwelling alerted Karel to their arrival. Setting aside the large book, he calmly rose from his office chair, made his way to the front door and opened it to see his niece about to ring the doorbell, her father standing behind her and bearing a huge grin.
"Oji-chan!" excitedly shouted one Fir Tapferkeit, who hopped forward to wrap her uncle in a pleased embrace. "It's so good to see you!" Indeed, unbridled joy sparkled in her onyx eyes, and she seemed to be quivering with excitement down to the very tips of her fingers. He had once been told that she had her mother's beauty and her father's joviality – an adept assessment, certainly.
The aging philosopher donned an affectionate smile and returned her hug, replying, "Likewise. I assume you have brought everything you need?"
"You bet!" she chirped, dashing off to help with moving her belongings.
"How reassuring to see her good cheer," Karel idly noted, watching Fir's haste with a muted humor.
"Fir spent the last three weeks all psyched up about moving in with you. She's been digging through all the journals and magazines you and Karla have written in – if anything, she's disappointed that she couldn't memorize all your work." A juggernaut of a man grinned, his short brown hair barely moving with an amused shake of his head, the slight curve of his moustache accentuating his unabashed grin. All throughout his life, Bartre Tapferkeit had been a hulking fount of strength and good cheer – if a noteworthy career in professional sports had not marred that, age certainly would not.
"The fervor of youth," Karel supplied. "And how have you fared, brother of mine?"
The larger man sniffed. "I'm not your brother, just the in-law. …Then again, you've always been a little weird, especially since…she passed."
He acknowledged the other man's words with a subdued nod, smiling wanly as he shared an observation made on the spur of the moment. "…Perhaps it was a machination of fate granting her fondest wish…
"All through our childhood, we were inseparable, despite the three years between us. She would follow me everywhere, emulate me in every way she could, cheer on my own efforts. …Where I broke into the world's medical vanguard, she became one of its finest psychiatrists…and if memory serves, she even managed your accounts during your tenure in professional sports."
"Thank God," Bartre interjected. "I'm still no numbers guy, not even after this stint as a coach…"
"All the while, she insisted on tending to me when she could…ironic, how her death finalized her desire to be with me."
"Yeah," the burlier man murmured. "After they diagnosed her as terminal, she was always telling me about her childhood with you when I visited. …Then you went and became a philosopher after her death…and picked up her research, too. I guess she really is still with us."
Breaking the somber conversation with a wicked grin, he continued, "So then, that doesn't make you my wife by some technicality, does it?"
Karel raised a mildly amused eyebrow. "Apologies, brother, but that is not so. Moreover, I believe you know of my rather…ascetic ways." Smiling faintly, he added, "Odd, since some of the problems I am approached with, I have no personal experience in…"
"Ah, yes! I've heard that the whole college has a penchant for taking their problems to you. Maybe that's more of Karla within you at work?" Bartre punctuated his joking inquiry with a deep, rumbling laugh before adding, "Then again, who wouldn't want some of your wisdom?"
The shameless mirth and honesty of his brother-in-law elicited a gentle chuckle and genuine smile from the Sacaen researcher. "I suppose you're right. …Regardless, the time has come for change, since Fir will be living here with me."
"Heh…let's hope she doesn't spend every waking moment pestering you, huh? I know how she idolizes you and Karla. She's even tried to start studying philosophy, and she told me that she wants to learn that kendo thing from you." Bartre chuckled. "I'd tell her there's no point in learning how to swing a sword, but you know how she can get when she's serious about something."
As had Akari, so many years ago…I pray she would understand the nature of the sword, before she sees what it makes of men. The slighter of the two also chortled. "Have no fear, Bartre. Sooner rather than later, she will seek the company of others. Wisdom is only to be found in life, not in a book, or from the mouths of others – she shall see that soon enough."
"See what?" Fir had just walked up to the two older men, carrying a large cardboard box full of books.
"Something to be discussed later," Karel replied, guiding Fir into the house by a hand on her back, smoothly matching her stride. "Once we bring in the rest, we will go eat lunch. Is that suitable?"
"All right!" she accepted, and the small family and the movers present began bringing in the rest of her possessions.
The whispers of the wind fluttered his long brown hair, but failed to budge his stony expression, the hands folded in front of his face, or the brown leather trench coat that was restrained against the park bench by his seat. Behind him, tree branches swayed in tune with the gale, and the chirping of the summer's birds was carried by the breeze. Rutger disregarded the scenery around him, however, and simply sat and waited at the bench conveniently located near the parking lot.
A small, fanciful convertible pulled into the lot, and from it emerged a young man dressed in an olive-green jacket and black jeans. Swiftly making his way over to the bench Rutger was sitting on, he sat down next to him with characteristic aplomb.
"This is, like, from some old detective movie," he began. "Don't I usually just drop by your…" He trailed off as Rutger glared at him meaningfully. "Oh, yeah…sorry." Pausing briefly, he then vehemently added, "Actually, I'm not sorry at all, you jackass!
"I have to work to get some, you know? It's hard out there for a player like me! But you? She told me you two met under a damn sunset! If there's a more blatant clue that you need a woman in your life, I don't know what it could be! Damn, I know you're all fucked up cuz'a yer past and whatever, I've heard the whole revenge bit, but why the fuck are you trying to kick away the only girl with the guts to really chase you?"
"Tch…' 'this punk' '…" the half-Sacaen snarled under his breath. Hugh could instantly tell he'd pissed off the private eye – his brow was more furrowed than usual, and his customary scowl now looked like it could fold steel and burn a hole through it.
"You don't get it, do you?" Rutger growled. "I don't answer to you. I won't bother explaining myself, because when I told you why, you did not understand – and you still don't."
Hugh rubbed at his temples with a measure of frustration, tense with uneasiness about the taller man's anger. "Actually, I'd say I do…a little bit.
"…My folks died in a blizzard before I was old enough to really remember them. Grandma wasn't much of a pleasant caretaker, so I struck out on my own when I turned fifteen." The normally loud, blustery youth paused, looking so pained he seemed to be spinning this tale with his own blood. However, he quietly continued, "It sucks, Rutger…you feel that hole eatin' at'cha. Ya really feel it when you have to go back to a cold home, an empty bed…and the pain gets dull and numb, like you'd stop feeling if it went on long enough. That's why I ain't gonna be alone if I fuckin' got somethin' to say about it. You shouldn't be, either."
"I am not like you," he snarled in response. "I don't intend to waste my time on fools like her." The common tongue failing him, he reverted to Sacaen, snarling,' 'Stubborn bitch, turning my-' '
"This isn't why you're here," he suddenly interjected. "Hurry up and be gone."
Hugh sighed heavily. "Sure thing. Like always. The only reason you put up with me, huh?" Discreetly snatching an envelope that Rutger had produced seemingly from thin air, he narrowed his gaze at the half-Sacaen. "Y'know, this shit is really dangerous. Illegal, too, but in your case that's the lesser of two evils, I'd say." Spinning around, he kicked open the trunk of his car, pulled out a brown duffel bag, then opened the trunk of Rutger's car (he always left it unlocked when Hugh arrived) to drop it inside.
"You know the deal, pal…"
"Who the hell are you?" the brunette gruffly countered.
Hugh chuckled nonchalantly. "As always, that's the way to do it, Rutger. Later." With that, he climbed into his small convertible and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving Rutger with a lazy, scenic weekend afternoon and his own thoughts.
He pulled in a deep breath, but his exhalation was made shaky by his simmering rage. Leaning forward to balance his elbows on his knees, he folded his hands in front of his face to keep from tightening them into fists.
I saw how they suffered. I watched them strangle at the hands of an unseen killer. I saw them die for the goals of a twisted pack of terrorists, losing everything in an instant…and I can't simply stand aside and do nothing about that! I have to do something! I have to answer their challenge…
I have to kill them for what they've done, for what I saw and heard and felt and lost, everything that ever happened to me since that day. I can't let all this pain and sorrow and sadness come to nothing, do nothing but hurt me and isolate me and leave me all alone. It has to drive me somewhere, make me someone new, push me in a new direction…I can't just ignore it and live as if it never happened, I can't forget them like that.
Had he more presence of mind in that moment, Rutger might have nodded in self-reassurance to his justifying his way of life. That's why I do this. That's why I live like this. In memory, in grief, in the name of balance…for vengeance.
"Rutger?"
Snapped out of his reverie, he looked up to see Cecilia tilting her head, an amused and curious expression on her face. Her arms were folded underneath her breasts – goddamnit all, do NOT pay attention to those details, that's what she wants, the damned vixen – and most of her weight was on one leg. Not fond of her hospital scrubs as she was, she had dressed in a white blouse and slacks, along with a gold-trimmed sweater and a purple scarf gently strewn across her shoulders.
Unfolding her arms, she put one hand on her hip while leaning forward to lightly jab Rutger in the forehead with a finger, and he snorted in response as she smiled lightly. "I caught you brooding again, huh? You do too much of that. A bad habit from your loner days, I'd say…but instead, I'll say that we should enjoy this nice afternoon breeze and go take a walk. I just got out of a six-hour surgery, I'm done for the day, and I need to relax."
"If it's rest you need, there are better places to get it," he snapped in response, realizing exactly how his reply could be construed an instant before she did.
"Hmm…well, that would certainly be enjoyable, but it wouldn't be very restful or relaxing now, would it, Rutger?" she replied with a catty tone of voice and an almost predatory smirk. He knew those all too well – after the first time he'd let her through his guard (it was his fault, not her doing, she hadn't slipped past his walls, he'd opened the door for her, and he would kick her out and bar the gate, goddamnit all), he'd had to deal with them whenever he made a less-than-ideal choice in words or was overly stressed and worn out by any particular day.
For all his unsociability and disinterest in women, however, she had been visibly surprised by his capability in specific aspects of their relationship. Frankly speaking, he'd surprised himself as well, but he'd preferred to never have learned exactly how it felt, her hands fisting in his hair, tightening around him as she screamed his-
He snarled at the unbidden memory, cursing her inwardly. Seeing that she was apparently waiting for further input from him, he rose to his feet without a word, spun on his heel and walked towards the grassy central area of the park, where an ornate fountain was spewing streams of water from what looked like a pair of dragons. She matched his stride and slid her hand into his, earning a scowl that hardened further when she laid her free hand on his arm. Who the hell does she think she is? he inwardly grumbled.
The only girl to ever get you in bed? a decidedly more self-indulgent section of his brain quipped. Maybe the only one to ever really love you? Bet you've forgotten what that feels like. How's that for a two-for-one deal?
Rather than grace that voice with an internal conversation, he kept a slow and easy pace, letting Cecilia rest her head against his shoulder without any outward complaints. The two eventually made their way to a large oak tree that offered a comfortable amount of shade and a good view of the nearby lake.
He dropped into a cross-legged sitting position and leaned against the trunk's smooth bark, only to be made aware of her presence once again when she settled into his lap, leaning her head into the crook of his neck. Snorting derisively, he shuffled and bent one leg upward to keep Cecilia from sliding off and falling backwards.
"See?" she drowsily murmured with a soft smile. "Don't act so tough…cuz really…you're still just…a nice…guy…"
Rutger remained silent as she fell asleep, subconsciously shifting to cuddle more tightly against him.
Damnit…if only I were to simply destroy this now…but it would change nothing. It would hurt her all the same…as it would me…it would be no different from ending this by my death…
She's in the way, a familiar voice offered. A distraction, nothing more – you just said so yourself. And every moment you spend in her arms will make the end hurt more. Spare yourself the old pain. Don't be a fool – these bonds cause your suffering. They are the price to be paid for weakness. Cut them away!
"Tch," he muttered under his breath, trying to put the feeling of the woman leaning against him into the furthest corners of his awareness. Cursing at himself would fix nothing…but what to do for his next move?
It would have been so much easier…had my heart died all those years ago, with my family. But it hadn't. That was why his barriers had crumbled, how she had become a part of his life. Once, it screamed for vengeance, loudly enough to pierce the deafening haze of his sorrow and drive him to hunt and kill. Now it was traitor to the cause, yearning for the pleasure and comfort she so freely offered.
But Rutger was no stranger to pain, and it would take more than Cecilia's heavily sexualized nurturing to make him turn his back on everything. His heart had long been left in the shadowed, unused corners of his life…and it could, it would return to that state.
All those long years…they won't be in vain. I won't be led astray by my desires. I've made my choice: a path paved with the blood of killers. This is my way…my way of the sword.
I pray sensei is right, that all paths of the sword lead to one place…I want to someday achieve his level of skill, his control and wisdom. But I cannot squelch my vengeance so easily…not when it has become a part of me like this.
And so, underneath a solemn oak tree, Cecilia sleeping in his lap, Rutger wished for only one thing…
The will to slay my heart.
Grumbling, Roy rolled over to check the alarm clock rather precariously placed on the head of the futon couch he was sleeping in. Nine-thirty was hardly any time for a college-age student to be going to sleep, but Roy's idea of adjusting to their new apartment failed to include examining the night life of the inhabitants of Aureola, the sleepy college suburb that played host to Aquelia University and housed a number of its students. A mere ten-minute drive away from the massive school, it was equally as close to the typical student attractions – or so the school's website said. The apartment itself was decidedly Spartan compared to his father's considerable holdings, and, the kitchen space aside, was not much larger than some of the hotels he'd stayed in during vacations. Roy Pherae, however, had never been much of one to wallow in luxury, and hoped that these comparatively sparse surroundings would be a good first step towards independence.
Of course, there was much more to becoming a self-sufficient adult than adjusting to less-than-ostentatious dwellings.
Gotta…lessee…uh, find a laundromat, groceries, office store…wonder where the closest…goddamnit, I cannot go to sleep with my mind racing like this! At least the mattress on this thing is comfortable…
Oh…he suddenly realized. Maybe this is why I can't get to sleep? Because Asthor, for some reason, turned what should have been the second bedroom into a study? Fucking brilliant…I thought it was gonna be all the people at school making those assumptions. If I gave a damn about "getting laid", I sure as hell wouldn't have asked him.
No shit. You'd have asked her, a libidinous voice supplied from the back of his head, snickering the while.
I didn't say you could fucking talk! …God, I really hope moving in with her is gonna be worth this headache…
Not to mention the endless blue balls. Speaking of which, seriously, just grow a pair and-
"Ugh!" Snarling, Roy sat up to interrupt the inner letch. Gazing through the pristine windows into the clear night sky, he fervently hoped would somehow find the strength to survive this first year. Not to mention Lilina…
Speaking of which…if he wasn't going to sleep any time soon, he might as well check up on her.
Rolling out of his bed with a groan, he slowly and silently made his way to the single bedroom – coincidentally positioned as the room furthest from the entrance. Gently prying the door to the bedroom open, he quickly peered in, hoping she wasn't sleeping. Turned on her side, away from the door, he couldn't be entirely sure.
"Lilina?" he whispered in what he hoped would be a voice audible, but not loud enough to wake her up.
"Roy? You're not…no, of course you're not asleep yet." He thought he could hear a shaky smile in her voice as she continued, "See? We should have found something to do instead of just…going to sleep…"
She still hadn't turned to face him, however, and he was getting suspicious. "Something wrong, Lilina?" he inquired.
"…I'm alright, Roy. Don't worry about me…please…"
"How can I not?" he hastily replied. "Seriously, you're acting weird, Lilina. Turn around and…" By this time, he had already subconsciously moved to her bedside, and reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder…
…when she then turned to face him, something haunted her eyes, like she'd seen a ghost she knew all too well. And when he saw that look, he knew he was going nowhere. Her red silken pajamas added an element of déjà vu to the moment, but he had a sinking feeling there would be no going back after this night.
After a brief, pregnant pause, he demanded, "What's wrong?"
She seemed hesitant for a moment, searching for words that would bring her thoughts to life. "…It…it's so cold…and quiet. So lonely…just like the first day, the night I heard that-"
"I know," Roy interjected, as much for her sake as his own. "I…I couldn't sleep either. For some time, I was afraid…for all of us.
"I…I'm sorry." When she looked up at him, quite confused, he continued, "I shouldn't have been scared like that." He turned away and sat onto the bed none-too-gently, continuing, with, "I should have…I should have been there for you. But I just left you alone instead, because I-"
"Roy." He stopped, and heard the sheets shuffle as she also sat up in bed. "I…I know you tend to worry about me…but I'm not helpless, you know? I'm stronger than this…I have to be…I think that's what Father would want."
His jaw set, but he smiled nonetheless and replied, "Yeah…probably. I know one day, you'll get there…and I'll be there with you every step of the way…like I always have been." Pausing only briefly, he did not quite consider fully his next words, though he would someday realize exactly what he said, what those words meant.
What he could make them mean.
"…Like I always will be." Rising from his seat on the bed, he added, "So if you ever need anything from me, you ever need any help…I'm right here." Moving to go back to sleep, he almost unwittingly eluded Lilina quickly reaching out for his hand. When she caught him by his wrist, however, all hope of sleep fled his body, and he froze still. Oh shi-
"I…I hope so," she hesitantly offered. "That one day, I won't always need your support. …But I'm not there yet, and I still…
She trailed off, and softly continued with, "…Did you really mean it when you said you'll always be with me?"
I think I've seen this one before! A familiar letch crowed within the deepest recesses his mind, sounding suspiciously like Alan in his less-than-sober moments – sans any slurring or hiccups, unfortunately, which would have made the voice easier to disregard. Straight outta some romance novel! This is where you comfort her with some cheesy promise and finally bang her, ya twit!
Shut up, damnit! Son of a…Roy swallowed nervously, not trusting himself to look into his dearest friend's eyes, instead keeping faced away. "Y-yeah. I don't say things I don't mean, Lilina – remember? That's why I'm terrible with jokes…"
Her hands closed over his, and she got out of the bed, leaning against his back and resting her head on his shoulder. "Just…just this once…just for tonight, would you stay here, then?" Her voice grew softer still as she continued, "I won't ask for this again…and I know you wouldn't want to do something like this, but please, just once…I'm not alone, I know, but sometimes I feel like I am…"
With a nervous gulp and a deep breath, the redhead scrambled for his self-control upon hearing her request, one part of his mind mandating that he get the hell out of there now, one demanding he take the very obvious opportunity, and yet another telling him she needed him and he had to be there for her, all the obvious temptations and possible consequences be damned. So much of his mind clamored for control, but the inner conflict faded as his familiar resolve and words said long ago came back to him. Mustering the entirety of his willpower, he took slow, deep breaths, and remained perfectly still as he collected himself before he spoke.
"You aren't," Roy replied. Slowly turning to face her, he continued, "…All right. I'll stay for tonight."
Lilina's slow but unexpected embrace caught him off guard, and her whisper was softer than a summer breeze. "Just hold me, please…"
I don't know if I can just hold you for much longer, he silently replied, but he said nothing as he gently took her into his arms. As his fatigue caught up to him, he sent one last, fervent request to whatever spirit might have been watching.
I wish she would smile again.
Every post is a repost of a repost. Reformatting, and change to fic title.
P.S.
Akari Yukyonoken
The Japanese name I made for Karla, duh. It was pretty obvious.
Nii-san
A more respectful way to address one's older brother. Also generally the way to address the older brother when both siblings are adults (i.e. Karla talking to Karel, as both were college-age in that scene and their relationship does not having a cute sort of endearment to it).
Shinmei Kaze-ryuu
A totally fictionalized name for the style of swordsmanship Karel studied, "Winds of Divine Fortune Style".
Kensei
Refers to extremely skilled and also spiritually enlightened swordsmen (Miyamoto Musashi is credited as the first to be considered one). Translates to "sword saint" (ehem).
Oji-chan
A title for one's uncle. Little does Fir know, "-chan" is typically indicative of a more child-like or endearing nature of the relationship, which certainly does not reflect how much she admires her uncle.
