Author's Note:

To my followers (I think there about 5 of you), this must have come out of nowhere, huh? Don't worry, I'm not quitting my other story. I just needed a break from things.

Life comes at you fast. I remember starting this profile when I was just starting high school. Fast-forward to now, I'm a college student and a functioning member of working society. At least, I am when I'm not wasting my time writing fanfiction of all things.

I wanted to get away from routine and the like. I actually have a project due several hours after posting this, but that can wait. I want to escape. And I will by writing this story.

So here it is. A series nobody asked for, but one I will gladly write, time and soul permitting.

If you have any questions about it, potential characters who appear, suggestions, whatnot, feel free to PM me. I will gladly take time to answer any pertinent questions you may have, that's if you've read this far and haven't skipped to the story already. Thank you for listening to my rambling.

(FYI, it is a modern AU. Some characters have been aged up and down.)

Without any further ado, please enjoy.

Delthea was absolutely sure of two things.

She had a knack for Channeling and her big brother Lu was a big fat liar.

"You've got talent Delthea! You'll be just fine!"

No, she was not doing just fine, actually. As a matter of fact, she felt as if her morning's brunch was going to come hurling out of her mouth at any second. The un-rhythmic up-and-down bobbing of the ship didn't help her insides either. No amount of so-called "talent" prepared her for her greatest—and newly found—nemesis: motion sickness

She had to get to the deck.

Fast.

"Please. Please. Please. Not on the cute outfit…" she muttered.

She couldn't afford to puke all over the only cute outfit she brought—or had for that matter—unless she wanted to march around the entire day in her pajamas. The very thought of sauntering about in her kitten paw-print PJs was the push she needed. Such a thing would be a death sentence to her reputation.

… not that she had one yet.

However willing her spirit was, her body lacked the same conviction.

Under her seasickness, her legs felt like jelly and lead at the same time. Too wobbly to stand up straight and too heavy to move around.

Holding onto the wall railing for dear life, Delthea inched her way down the pristine, red-carpeted hall, her boots dragging slowly.

Plip.

Plop.

Plip.

Plop.

Plip.

Her left eye twitched.

"Why… are these freakin' hallways so darn long?!" she exclaimed, fury in her voice, but instantly regretted doing so.

She wasn't worried that someone had seen her childish outburst. That was a different animal entirely. It was because her sudden yell made her stomach do a somersault with the grace of a skydiver without a parachute.

If that wasn't bad enough, the skydiver was due for imminent landing.

Cold sweat broke out along her cheeks and the backside of her neck.

Her knees wobbled.

"I'm done for…" she muttered as she began to slowly sink into the glossy red carpet.

The demise of her sanctity—especially her clothes—was all but certain. Her mind jumped through hoops to minimize damage, leading her eyes eventually to the pristine, red-carpeted floor. For all her time on the ship, the floor had never looked so appealing.

She'd apologize to the ship's janitor later for dirtying it with pudding and muffins—or what was left of them. What wasn't her fault was how delicious they had been at the brunch. It would have been a crime to not scarf down a few.

Okay, maybe more than just a few.

It wasn't everyday she got to enjoy such tasty treats for a meal. Back home, it would have been the same old servings of rice and whatever roots and veggies her brother bought at the town market. She'd be lucky if she got such a treat in a month.

Her family ran an inn in the countryside and actually served such treats daily. But Delthea was banned from entering the kitchen after ruining a fresh batch of cookies that was meant for the customers. It was something she never got to live down. And now, her withdrawals were at their peak.

When she heard that good food would be provided during this trip, Delthea didn't hesitate in agreeing to come aboard. There was something about touring a school and showcasing ability but that all came second. She left all the complicated paperwork involved to Lu. This was a chance of a lifetime and Delthea wasn't about to lose it.

Though, they say hindsight is 20/20.

And now, Delthea wished she hadn't stuffed herself to the brim with so many sweets. It definitely wasn't a good first impression to leave the other passengers she had boarded with, especially a crowd with so many lookers.

She still remembered the face of one of them: well-kempt red hair, his sharp, handsome features, the gentle-look in his eyes, the slight smile he gave her as they made eye-contact while she jammed another pastry into her mouth. Thinking back on it made her heart flutter.

But something else was aflutter right now, namely her poor, abused stomach. There would be another time for her to revel in her fantasies. Right now, her biggest problem, more than her budding reputation as a sweet-toothed maniac, was that she needed to get up and move before she turned into a walking doggy bag.

Holding the barrister tightly, Delthea tried pulling herself up one last time but it was no use. Strength had left her limbs, betraying her. She would never forgive them.

The only thing keeping everything down was by her sheer force of will, but even that began slowly crumbling.

"Somebody… anybody…" she said to no one in particular, "Please save me…"

Of course, there wasn't a response. Why would there be? The hallway was empty. It had been for the last hour. Everyone had already headed to the bridge ever since the announcement that they would be seeing Port City soon, awaiting land.

Everyone was probably lined up along the dock rails, binoculars and cameras in hand to greet the renown city. And here was Delthea, flat on her bottom, awaiting her impending doom.

Delthea wasn't really the devout type but her crumbling resolve made her desperate. She really was out of options now. She shut her eyes. Her mind furiously chanted a prayer to any divine being that would lend an ear or two, since saying it aloud would erupt her stomach to kingdom come.

Her plea wasn't very long. She just wanted something to save her. Or kill her so she wouldn't have to suffer the aftermath of the disaster in her stomach.

"Hey."

Was she hearing the voice of God right now? Had someone heard her cries? It couldn't be.

The seasickness must've gotten so bad, I'm beginning to hear things, Delthea thought to herself while smiling dejectedly, I'm beyond saving now…

"Hey."

The voice came again and this time she heard it clearer, making her sit up now. It was that of a man. She didn't realize that God was male.

I wonder what he looks like, she wondered.

If God looked anything like the ginger stud she saw earlier, she would proudly profess to her faith to—

"Yo!"

The sudden yell made her jump to her feet. There was no doubt in her mind now that there definitely was someone talking to her and it wasn't "God" or anything supernatural of that kind. Thinking about it, no god could ever sound as coarse and ungentle as the voice she heard just now.

Peeking from behind her closed eyes, Delthea saw a figure that towered over her by at least two or three head sizes… and well-built to boot.

Oh, it definitely was a man.

All the alarms in her head were sounding off at full blast.

She pondered for a moment if it could have been the boy she saw at brunch. His voice was a bit harsh but his looks would more than make up for—

"You can stop pretending to have your eyes closed."

Drat.

No use hiding now.

Delthea slowly opened her eyes.

Her heart dropped faster than her mouth did.

Instead of the well-dressed, handsome boy she had envisioned, a grimy janitor stood in front of her, mop, bucket, and everything. Stains of various and unknown origin smeared his work overalls.

He wore a dirty work cap atop his head, hiding his unkempt teal-colored hair and shrouding much of his face. Delthea could not think of a worse thing to open her eyes to on the verge of vomiting.

Her insides began to churn again.

"… Are you alright?"

Unlike the gruffness in his voice before, the man spoke gentler now. But it was little too late for niceties. And when Delthea was sick, she had a bit of an attitude.

She glared up at him.

"Does it look like I'm—?!"

Before she could even finish her sentence, she felt something large and warm cover her forehead.

It was the janitor's hand.

Wh-wh-wh-what is he doing?!

She was about to cry out until she saw the janitor use his other hand to remove his cap and place his palm against his own forehead. When Delthea saw what was hidden beneath the mess, her eyes widened.

She had mistakenly thought that the janitor was an older man but reality couldn't be any further.

To say the boy was attractive would be inaccurate. Oh, he was attracting her attention alright. In fact, he looked outright suspicious, but something about him made Delthea unable to tear her eyes away.

A unique flavor of coldness exuded from his sharp features, the fair skin of his face marred only by the worried expression he wore on it.

His striking blue eyes drew her attention the most. The way they seemed to peer right into her soul… and the way they were looking into her own.

Delthea felt her face heat up. He was unfazed.

Who was this boy? Why was someone like this working as a janitor aboard a ship? Why was his staring so effective on her?

Her questions would go unanswered as the man took his hand off Delthea's forehead. For a lingering second, she was almost sorry that he did. There was something strangely comforting about his touch.

"Can't be a cold," he said to himself, shaking his head, "Temperature is not high enough."

"I-I-It's springtime! N-no one catches a cold during spring!"

Delthea felt like slapping herself in the face. What kind of response was that? Perhaps the butterflies in her stomach had reached her head… or perhaps it wasn't butterflies she was feeling again.

"Oo—oogh…" she groaned, slumping up against the wall. The pleasant shock of this chance encounter wore off and the uneasy, dull pain returned.

Fate couldn't have dealt her a worse hand than today. The one chance she gets to have one-on-one time with a handsome boy, she's sick. Not with something more maidenly but with an ailment that armed her with potential, uncontrollable projectile weapon.

He looked at her for a few more moments before opening his mouth.

"You're seasick, aren't you."

She nodded weakly.

The boy knelt next to her. He reached for her hand. Delthea was still uneasy at the prospect of a total stranger touching her so frankly but she didn't bother mustering up resistance. Any sudden movement would doom her and her poor companion after all. Whether they were attractive or not mattered little, Delthea didn't wish such a thing upon anyone after all.

Rather than her hand, the boy actually took ahold of her wrist. Gently, yet firmly, he pressed his thumbs against the area several centimeters below the joint.

Delthea felt a cool sensation pierce her at the wrist and slowly spread throughout her body.

It was like she just rose up from swampy water, fresh air filling her lungs, body, and especially her stomach. The mountain of pressure and weight that bogged her down felt excised from her body.

It was magical. Surreal.

She looked back at the boy whose eyes were glued to his task, still kneading his thumbs against her wrist. The concentrated look on his face made him appear more dashing, gallant, even.

She couldn't shake those thoughts from her head even if she tried.

Not wanting to disturb him and wanting to bask in the moment a little longer, Delthea allowed the boy to continue to work his magic.

Unlike when she opened her mouth, the silence was rather pleasant to hear.

"Wh-what did you just do?" Delthea asked after feeling comfortable enough to talk.

The boy slowed his kneading and met her eyes. Delthea almost instinctively looked away. She was not herself today.

"Pressure points are all over our body," he said, pointing to where he was massaging along Delthea's arm. He tapped his cold, slender finger against the area he was currently working on. "This one in particular is good for alleviating seasickness."

"O-oh, I see." She managed to say. Anymore and she would blurted out something stupid or pointless.

Delthea was not one who normally got tongue-tied over talking with strangers. Heck, back home, she had a knack for kicking it off with all the guests who visited their inn, regardless of the incessant scolding she got from her brother.

It was one of the few forms of entertainment she had and her method of connecting to the rest of the world. Her village was a bit isolated from the rest of the larger world, leaving her hungry for new stories and experiences, sometimes more so than the hunger she felt for sweets.

And today marked a startlingly new experience for her.

"Feeling any better?"

She hesitantly nodded. As confused as she was about her own nervousness, Delthea knew for sure that she didn't want this pleasantness to end. However, she felt bad for the boy… who she still did not know the name of.

"Thank you… for helping me out in a pinch," she said, "I would have puked all over myself and the floor if you didn't help me."

A subtle smile appeared on the boy's face, the corners of his mouth rising ever so slightly. It almost appeared less like a smile and more like he was stretching his mouth, but Delthea could feel his sincerity… or at least hoped she did.

"Don't mention it," he said, shaking his head. "Helping… is just something I do."

Delthea scratched her cheek with her free hand. "I want to thank you properly, but I don't know your name…"

"Ah…" the boy remarked.

He cleared his throat.

"Byleth."

Delthea's eyebrows went up. Her exposure to names from around the world was quite vast—working at the inn helped her with that—but this was one she had never actually heard before. It was wholly unfamiliar… but had a nice ring to it too.

"Well, thank you, Byleth. Name's Delthea. You really saved my bacon," she said. "Can't go marching around the academy smelling like… whatever puke smells like."

Byleth cocked his head. "Academy, you say?"

She nodded. "Yeah, that's partly—I mean, mainly—the reason I'm even on this ship."

He raised an eyebrow. "Heroes Academy?"

Geez, what a gaudy name, Delthea thought to herself, hearing the name aloud, getting second-hand embarrassment. She had no idea how such places managed to stay open being shamelessly named as such or gain any attendance at all.

Yet, it was the very same place she was headed herself.

"That's the one," she answered, reluctant almost.

There was a pause in Byleth's massage. His eyes turned away from her wrist and towards her, his gaze gliding over what felt like every inch of her. Unlike the presence given off by his touch, his staring made her incredibly unsettled.

She wasn't one to turn away the attention of an attractive young man but something about Byleth's hawk-like staring made her blood run cold.

This almost felt like an animal being cornered by its predator. Any slight movement or sound would set the hunter upon the hunted.

Not that Delthea had ever gone hunting before, but analogy was too good to pass up in her mind.

He stared at her for a while and began muttering something under his breath. It was but a few seconds, Delthea would have missed it had she not been paying such keen attention to the boy.

Byleth must have noticed, both his muttering and her awareness, and quickly closed his mouth, but it was too late for that. Delthea had already heard what he said. The very topic raised quite the fuss back home… and was sort of the reason why she was offered this trip in the first place.

"That's right," she said, looking the boy straight in the eye. "I'm a Channeler."

She personally didn't understand it all that much but Delthea knew she was gifted at Channeling: the ability to harness the power of the world's elements through one's body.

It was the closest thing the world had to magic. Many actually believed that it was. How can channeling lightning or fire into your very hands be considered not to be?

But for a while, she didn't think it possible. Being from the countryside reinforced that. However, when Delthea conjured a fireball in the palm of her hand one day, any previous inkling of doubt faded instantly.

She was a Channeler, and a gifted one at that, whatever that meant. So much so, it somehow attracted the attention of Heroes Academy, which gave her the excuse to board an express ship bound for the school where she would showcase her abilities.

Though, her actual reasons for boarding were much different and less pure.

The queasy feeling in her stomach was testament to that.

Uncomfortable but refusing to back down, Delthea continued staring back into Byleth's eyes.

"What about me being a Channeler?"

Byleth looked at her for a few more seconds before resuming his gaze back to her wrist.

"… might be why you got seasick," he finally said. With his middle finger, he then drew a line down her forearm, causing her to jump slightly.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"Channelers are more in-tune with their body and surroundings than regular people," he answered. "I barely grazed you but you reacted pretty actively."

Delthea's eyes went wide. "Wh—"

"Same applies for your insides too," he said, pointing to her stomach. Thankfully he didn't poke it or anything. Her ears were already burning and red as is.

Delthea's eyes wandered towards her hurting stomach, which ached less with pain now. It was all thanks to Byleth.

Just who was he?

"What is it that you…" Delthea began before changing her mind. "Why are you on this ship?"

Delthea immediately realized how much a stupid question that was, given what the boy was wearing, but something was bugging her. No mere janitor would be this knowledgeable about niche topics like pressure points or channeling.

No, she felt like Byleth was a lot more than he was letting on. That's what her gut told her, on top of telling her that she was going to blow her cookies.

Unsurprisingly, he merely shrugged his shoulders as he continued to massage her wrist. "Work, I suppose."

She had a read on him. He deftly deflected her question with a vague response. She prodded further.

"What does that mean? Don't you work aboard the ship?"

He nodded, somewhat. A slow bobbing up-and-down. "Yes, at least, until we reach land. That's the deal the captain and I agreed upon."

Curious, Delthea pushed Byleth even further. "So… what do you do normally?"

For the first time in their conversation, Byleth became utterly silent, not even muttering to himself like he did before. Delthea thought that he might not have heard her but she noticed the way his eyes had narrowed, a sheet of ice glazing over them.

Delthea knew that was a surefire sign she just waded into a minefield, her curiosity getting the better of her. It was a sign telling her to back off unless she wanted to trigger an explosion. Never a day in her life did Delthea consider all the interrogating she did at the inn would come in handy until now.

She was dying to know but she knew when to be content when handling seemingly volatile material. She decided to back down, not pressing any further. But to her surprise, Byleth answered her.

"Odd jobs."

He accompanied it with an extra hard squeeze on her wrist.

Silence resumed. But unlike before, it felt less than soothing. Still, it gave Delthea time to ponder what Byleth had meant when he answered. The more she thought, the more outlandish her musings became, many of them too inappropriate to detail out.

After a few more minutes, Byleth wrapped up his work. Rising to his feet and lending his hand forward, he helped Delthea back up. With a few unsteady steps, Delthea managed to stand, albeit feeling a little woozy still.

"How're you feeling?" Byleth asked.

Delthea checked herself out. She kicked out with her legs and flapped her elbows. Her arms and legs didn't feel like complete dead weight anymore but the unsteadiness from before lingered a bit. Her head didn't feel completely right either.

Byleth's massage was a bit too effective. She was already having withdrawals.

He must have noticed as he then reached into his overalls' pockets and pulled out a small plastic zip-up bag. In them, Delthea could make out small, pink-colored tablets. He handed the bag to her.

"If the motion sickness comes back again, take these," he instructed, tapping the pills.

Delthea fingered the tablets through the bag. Hard medicine was never her strong suit. Unlike the ones she had taken before, these pills were unmarked and remarkably small, smaller than any other hard medicine she had ever seen or personally taken. Nevertheless, she accepted it gratefully.

"Thank you. I ought to take one now, just to be on the safe side, right?"

Byleth shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself. We've got about half an hour or so until we reach Port City. Though I have to warn you, be sure to take it with—"

But before Byleth could finish, Delthea grabbed and popped a pill into her mouth. It was small enough for her to swallow without hassle. Anything bigger, and she would have needed a glass of water.

Byleth stared at her, unblinking, eyes wide and his mouth agape. It wasn't the kind of expression she expected and was rather silly. Delthea found herself smirking in response.

"What? You impressed or something?"

The boy said nothing. Instead, he turned around briefly and picked up the bucket he was holding earlier and handed it to her.

Now, it was Delthea's turn to be wide-eyed. Taken aback by the wide-rimmed steel bucket that was thrust so ungracefully into her hands, she asked, "Why are you handing me—Wh-what am I supposed to do with this?"

Byleth then reached for her this time. Steadying the bucket with one hand, he tilted her head with the other, pointing it downwards towards the bucket.

Before she could respond with her profanities at this inane treatment, Byleth gave her a wry smile and said:

"Try not to spill anything over your cute outfit."

Delthea then finally understood what Byleth was trying to do.

After all, it's not hard to see why you would need a bucket when the contents of your morning's brunch were being expelled from your mouth.

(A/N): Hey, thanks for reading. Know that if you have any questions about the story, characters who might make an appearance, what age the characters are, or, heck, even what sort of ice-cream they like, feel free to shoot me a PM.

Ask and you shall receive. Mostly. On a good day. When I am not weighed down by a mountain of work as a "working professional" (believe me when I say I have some reservations regarding that title).

Have yourselves a damn good one.