To yellow 14: And now there are five beasts…
Replies to Reviews of "Unexpected Information" chapter 15:
To Dancing Spider: You would expect the HOP and New Atlantis to have better communication. Unfortunately, both groups considered Japan to be their responsibility and consequently didn't think the information was relevant to anyone else. So just like the HOP don't feel the need to tell the other miraculous groups about everything happening in Germany or Portugal, they figured they didn't need to tell the others about the Nihon Hiro Chimu.
Nath let out a breath, rolled back onto his heels, and let Marc help him back up to his feet, fighting the urge to stretch his legs and arms after squatting for almost 5 minutes on the mound of soil covering his Opa's grave. His eyes, itchy and sore though they had been for the last week, remained dry. He had probably cried himself out within two days of Opa's death. It had been almost two weeks since that fateful day. While he and Marc had been talking to Opa when it happened, it had not been the same – watching over video chat rather than being in the room with him. The funeral the next day had been sparsely attended, with only Nath's family, a couple of Opa's friends, and the rabbi present. Marinette had sent condolences for herself and Adrien, but they had been worried about passing on the mysterious illness that had infected everyone in the Mansion – the same illness that had killed Opa. Many others had sent their regrets along with their condolences for the same reason.
While a part of Nath could understand the precaution, unfortunately, that meant that only two of the Heroes of Paris had been present to lay to rest one of Paris' first heroes.
Marc wrapped an arm around Nath's shoulders, supporting most of his weight. While he could sense Marc looking around and taking in the scenery around them, Nath couldn't tear his eyes away from Opa's grave marker.
"Your parents picked a nice location," Sabrina observed standing next to them, looking around the cemetery in appreciation. The morning sunlight felt warm on their faces, a faint breeze rustling the leaves on the trees as it played through their hair. "This tree will be great for shade in the summer if you come to visit."
"And even without most of its leaves, it has plenty of places for Kwamis to hide!" added Orikko, poking his head out of a knothole halfway up the trunk. A black-and-white head popped out of the branches above Orikko and scampered down the tree, chased by a squirrel. Stopping just above Orikko, Ziggy spun around and drove her horns into the squirrel, which hissed and jumped away, chattering angrily at Ziggy.
Marc stifled a chuckle and nodded. "That's what I said," he agreed. "Maybe if we decide to write a sequel to our 'Davidstern' graphic novel, we can sit under here for inspiration."
"You are already thinking of a sequel? Then how is your original book coming?" asked Nooroo, sitting on Sabrina's shoulder.
"We're almost finished," Nath told him, still staring down. "Even before I really knew how true all his stories were, I had already started making some drawings based on Opa's stories. Davidstern, der Deutsche Ritter, Armanemagier, der Falkner… They were the basis for the panels. Once we decided to turn it into a full graphic novel, it was just a matter of writing out each of the stories, fitting them into a cohesive narrative, and inking and coloring."
"If we're lucky, we'll be ready to print by V-E Day," Marc added. He chuckled quietly. "That seems appropriate."
"That's great!" Sabrina enthused. "It's so amazing that you're honoring your Opa this way."
Nath's shoulders slumped. Marc squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "I wanted Opa to have a chance to see it," Nath confessed quietly. "I wanted him to know that he would be remembered for what he did. But now he never will."
"He'll still be remembered," Marc promised. "Even if he didn't get to see it."
Sabrina hummed. "He was content at the end," she told him. "He knew that you were going to remember him. And he knew that you would continue his legacy."
"Le Maquillon spoke of Davidstern often," Nooroo piped up. "Even though they never met in person, after the War he would regularly muse about how he was enjoying life in the country that he had helped to liberate."
Marc looked up at Nooroo curiously. "Could you help us to – I don't know – fill in some of the details?" he asked. "M. Kurtzberg told a lot of stories, but I don't think he told us all of them. And there's a lot about that side of the war that we just don't know."
Nooroo stroked his chin slowly. "I do not know everything that Davidstern did," he answered, his antennae drooping. "Nor was le Maquillon aware of all the superhumans involved in the war. Some of the stories may be lost forever. But I can tell you what I know."
Sabrina furrowed her brows in thought. "What about the journals?" she suggested. "Emilie has a lot of records from previous holders."
"That… may be possible," Nooroo agreed hesitantly. "But only provided that Mistress Emilie agrees to it.
Nath let out a breath. "Thanks. Maybe I will ask her one of these days. I wish…" He hummed, his voice trailing off. "It doesn't seem right for him not to be remembered, you know? After everything Opa did, he shouldn't be forgotten so easily. That's why I wanted to make the novel: so people will remember him."
Marc nodded. "Soldiers are memorialized for their service; why shouldn't M. Kurtzberg?"
Sabrina furrowed her brows and pursed her lips in thought. "You may be on to something there," she mused, nodding slowly.
Placing his hand on the grave marker, Nath frowned. "I actually had an idea to show that he had been a hero," he explained, pulling a sheet of paper out of his pocket and handing it to Sabrina without taking his eyes off of the Star of David carved into the stone above the name. He had made a tracing of the carving a couple days after the stone had been placed, and then spent the next several days doodling until he came up with a design he liked. "Nothing too elaborate – just something for the people who know what to look for. Something that the other heroes would recognize."
"This looks very nice," Sabrina told him, returning the drawing. She paused for a moment, frowning nervously, before asking, "… Do you want to make it a reality?" Nath cocked his head in confusion. She smiled softly. "If you wish it, I can give you the power to carve it into the stone," she explained.
Nath's breath caught in his throat. Was that even a question? He nodded eagerly. "Please!"
Looking around surreptitiously to make sure that they were alone in the cemetery, Sabrina slipped behind the tree and crouched down. Too quiet for Nath to hear, she whispered her transformation phrase, sucking Nooroo into her brooch, and straightened up. Impératrice Pourpre snagged a butterfly out of the air and held it to Nath's drawing, which turned lavender. "Dessineteur," she told him, "you want your Opa to be remembered for what he did for as long as this stone endures, so I'm giving you the ability to carve the stone. Once you have done what you need to do, I will remove that power from you."
"Thank you, Impératrice," Nath whispered, as he was covered in lavender smoke which almost immediately dissipated. Very little about him felt different. Kneeling on Opa's grave, le Dessinateur placed his hand directly over the Star of David and closed his eyes. He pictured the design in his mind's eye, and willed it to appear in the stone. Moments later, he rose to his feet as the butterfly pulled away from his drawing and lost its purple coloration. Folding his arms, he nodded in contentment.
He had considered adding "Davidstern" to the epitaph, but had realized that might be too much and too obvious. Instead, he had placed a small butterfly inside the hexagonal center of the Star of David. A small cluster of grapes in his hand, Nooroo flitted over to the grave marker and sat down directly above the Star of David, which shimmered with a silvery-violet light that faded almost instantly.
Marc took Nath's hand in his own, giving it a squeeze. "I think that looks perfect."
Nath gave a small smile and placed his hand on the gravestone. "Thanks, Opa," he whispered. With a glance at Marc, he added, "I'm going to miss you. But I think we'll be all right."