+ Fallacy, a 100themes Challenge +
Sarehptar
Theme: 14, Smile
Characters: Kharl, Zouma
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Need to Know Info: I am completely aware of the impossibility of this setting. It's an AU, yeah...
Title Provider: Precious (Depeche Mode)
Precious and Fragile Things Need Special Handling
The little demon laughs brightly, amethyst eyes wide and excited. Without being asked the Alchemist repeats his trick, turning the red rose back into an empty china teacup.
"How'd you do that?" the purple-haired boy asks in earnest, and something in it tugs painfully at Kharl's heart—because as much as he wants to believe that this child, Zouma, is really the Left Bird he raised with such delicate care, he knows they are not same. The same body maybe, the same soul, but the memories are utterly different. He does not tell the boy that once upon a time, Left Bird would have known how to work such simple magic.
"You could do it, if you wanted," he offers, as quiet and as gently as he can, but he desperately wants the boy to learn, to want to learn from him.
"I don't think I could." Kharl sees the flicker of disbelief and dislike in those wide childish eyes, and it saddens him. This is not the intelligent and indomitable Left Bird he remembers only too well. Nevertheless, behind the weakness, he can see something like a flicker of hope and interest, something of the thirst for knowledge that was ingrained in the demon who was once his precious companion. Without a word he hands the teacup to the smaller youkai, putting tiny fingers in all the places they need to be.
"Do you know what this cup is made from?" The boy looks like he wants to say glass for a moment, but then he blinks slowly and the word falls from his mouth easily.
"Bone," he says, and seems surprised to hear it. Kharl realizes immediately that while Zouma can use his powers, he is nowhere near understanding them.
"When I do it, I simply change the atoms. But you cannot do that because you do not know Alchemy." The boy stares at him, through him, into his mind, and for a moment, the lilac-haired man is forcibly reminded that Left Bird is the governor of the soul, and knows (knew, he corrects himself) as much about the mind as Kharl himself does. "If you want to do the same thing, you should change the spirit."
"Teacups and roses have spirits?"
"Anything that is alive or was once living contains traces of a soul. It is built into every microscopic cell of their forms. This bone china came from a living creature. Regardless of whether or not that beast or the rose you might make have the mental capacities we do, they still possess spirit."
"I see..." The boy turns the teacup over in his hand as if it will suddenly start speaking to him. "But how do I change a spirit?" The Alchemist says nothing; he presses the tiny boy's hands tighter around the cold surface of the cup.
"I can't tell you," he smiles faintly, a look that is distant and sad, "but I think you can remember." Zouma's eye dart between the cup in his hands and the pale eyes of the man propped against the tree before him.
"I can remember…" He knows that once upon a time, this would have been child's play. He knows that once upon a time, the Alchemist would not have treated him so kindly, like a student or a friend, but would have treated him as Left Bird: a pet, a tool. The lilac-haired man smiles gently, encouraging him without words; Zouma cannot help but think that they have both changed beyond recognition. Determined, he closes his eyes and calls his ki, just a trace, and reaches it toward the cup.
Kharl can feel the tiny spike of demon energy, sees that it is well controlled. He is impressed, as he would never have expected the boy to maintain such skill manipulating youki. For a long while, he simply waits, wondering if like a few scattered memories, the knowledge of Transmutation will come back to the boy. The grounds stretch out around them, impeccably well-tended and beautiful in the spring sunshine.
He catches himself thinking that Garfakcy would love these gardens, but crushes the thought before it can be fully born. Even half formed, it pierces like a blade, a coldness pressing heavily against his heart. Nervously, (he is afraid it has become a habit now), the Alchemist fiddles with the Dragon Amulet that weighs lightly around his neck. Behind him, he can hear someone shouting and the routine clash of swords that announces it is past noon, and Tetheus is giving his daily sword instruction.
"I did it!" The call snatches his attention back like a burn, and he finds the tiny demon flapping his arms in an excited fashion that would have looked less silly on a bird. "I did it, I did it Master Kharl!" The title surprises Zouma too, because his cheeks color with shock and the celebration drains away from him quickly. "Uh…"
"I see." The single red rose glimmers in the boy's small hands, and he looks at it proudly.
"I did remember, Master Kharl."
The pure and happy smile on that child-like face is something Left Bird could never have given him—and the Alchemist finds something new to treasure.