For most of my life, I've been told that one day I'd stop rebelling against
my responsibility, find my direction, and be content with it. In truth I
never rebelled against it; really, I was just too eager to get started. I
suppose I must have become a jerk sometime between knowing the inevitable
and studying the theories of magic and technique until my eyes felt like
they would explode, and maybe I'm a disappointment for it. Oh, well.
When I left the Mansion, seeking something besides the dreary, mundane life of study and prayer-- indeed, how can you take worship seriously, when you're told that you're the object of that worship?-- I realized that it wasn't really boredom that drove me to Motavia, it was restlessness. I couldn't sit around and wait for destiny, so I traveled, until my fate happened to stumble across me in the ruins of a Motavian town.
I had expected him to be taller.
But, as my new-old memories can tell me, there is a certain fondness I had for him even then; when I saw him, he reminded me of Alis, of Rolf, and the feelings that my predecessors had for them. Although my support for Chaz didn't stem from the same feelings as Noah's brotherly camaradarie with Alis, or Lutz's loving affection for Rolf, it was strong. Of course, I couldn't just say that- I have a reputation, after all, and the runt had some growing-up to do. The responsibility of Lutz is to choose the fated soldier to fight the Darkness, not potty-train him. Still, he turned out all right.
For a long while I wondered whether my judgment really would be right; whatever part of me had the instinct to carry out my destiny knew it with the same certainty with which I cast my spells, but the rest of me wasn't anywhere near as confident. Chaz was still a boy, angry and confused- and who could blame him? A million things had gone wrong in his life, and he was just smart enough to realize what most of them were. Why shouldn't he curse the Light for abandoning its children to what might have been an eternal cycle of peace and misery, if not for Dark Force's victory in the Great Collapse? Although I knew it wasn't the real truth, I could understand it from Chaz's point of view- all at once, the entire solar system became his little sister, just as forgotten and forsaken as he had been, and the Great Light became the heartless parents he'd always dreamt of knowing. When he touched the Elsydeon, heard its voice and felt its story, I knew he had changed his mind, but even that was only my instinct as Lutz. I didn't know what Alis had said to him, or what he'd felt at that time; what did she tell him? What did he know? And had he really let his anger fade as much as it seemed?
These were the things I was thinking about the night before the final battle. Termi's nights were quiet; the people hadn't heard anything about the hole in the planet, the death of Mile; here, everything was peaceful and quiet, and the Statue of Alis Landle watched over everyone as they slept. From my place, sitting in the windowframe, I could see her finely-chiseled stone face smiling serenely over the town.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" Chaz's voice drifted in from my doorway and interrupted my thoughts. He came forward and quietly leaned against the wall on my right.
"Hm," I replied.
He smiled for a minute. "You want to know what made me change my mind."
"I assumed it was because you stopped being obstinate and realized how important this is."
He laughed. "No. Well, yes, in a way," he said, but didn't continue.
"Well?"
"What?"
"Are you going to tell me?"
"Do you want to know?"
"Yeah."
He breathed a soft sigh. In that moment he seemed suddenly very, very old. "Because of Alys."
"Alys?"
"Yeah.... when I heard about the Great Light, abandoning us all to deal with his problems, I thought, why should we help him? Why should we have to fight so hard to clean up somebody else's mess, just a slave to pick up after an absent master? He doesn't care about us, why should we care about him? And then I thought about it-- Alys didn't pick me up and teach me to fight as a favor to my parents who abandoned me. She picked me up because... well, for her, or for me, or whatever reason she had. But it wasn't for them. So... I don't want to save Algo because of the Great Light. I want to save it for everyone on Algo who's suffering because of what the Darkness is doing. Everybody who's had to fight, so much and for so long..." He turned his eyes to me as he said it, and I think Alis must have shown him what the Legacy of Lutz really is, because there was an apology in his tone that made my heart ache. I didn't look back at him. "We'll end it," he said quietly. "Tomorrow, we'll end it, and go home..."
He laid his head on my shoulder, in a way that made me feel warm. Bits and pieces of old memories, feelings that both were and weren't mine for people who were and weren't Chaz, resurfaced in my mind. To my Esper senses I could feel both an aching loneliness and a longing for the familiar that radiated from Chaz like light itself. In that moment, I understood everything in him perfectly-- the acceptance of a universal burden because it hit so close to home; the fear of not being good enough, both to save the planet or for his parents to keep him; the knowledge and wisdom of the ages wrapped up in a painfully young mind; and the sudden need for warmth and companionship and love and understanding and above all else, acceptance.
"What about Rika?" I asked.
"What?"
"You know."
"Oh... I see..." he looked down. "You mean I should go see her."
"No. I was just wondering why you didn't."
He hesitated, but gave up. "She doesn't understand," he said, finally, and I knew what he meant. "You do." Again, hesitantly, he turned his head closer against my neck.
Soon, it was a war against my sensibilities; the part of me that insisted on upholding the position of Lutz, to always maintain proper decorum, warred with the part of me that cared more for Chaz as a beloved friend than a responsibility, and finally it evened out and I allowed myself to just lightly kiss his forehead, a sign of affection and reverence. I had almost convinced myself that I wouldn't do any more than that, until the slight, heated wisp of breath escaped his lips against my neck, and I decided it would not be improper to kiss his temples, then his cheeks, until it became apparent that my inner conflict was resolved and we put our arms around each other.
Chaz's inexperience was both comforting and endearing; although his hands were strong and sure when he was holding a sword, they weren't so confident when he ran them through my hair, or down my chest. I took a certain consolation in that, although I'm not sure why; maybe it was just the novelty of just how innocent he really was, underneath the armor and uniform. Innocent, and attractively muscular.
He was the first to raise himself up and give me a real kiss, tentative but enthusiastic, and I found myself content to show him the nuances of the delicate art before his youthful.... exhuberance, let's say, got the better of him, and he pulled me away from the window and, quite literally, took me to bed. For those few moments, with my hands lightly running over his body, his fingertips and mouth exploring me in the first real contact he'd ever been able to have, everything seemed far away. All the pain of wounds and exhaustion, the misery, the stress, the weight of the burden on our backs; all of it melted away in the warmth between his racing heart and mine; once again, he was a very apt student to a willing teacher. We slept well.
When morning came and the sunlight flooded our room, I sat up and looked out of my window. I couldn't help but think that the statue of the Heroine was smiling just a little more than yesterday.
When I left the Mansion, seeking something besides the dreary, mundane life of study and prayer-- indeed, how can you take worship seriously, when you're told that you're the object of that worship?-- I realized that it wasn't really boredom that drove me to Motavia, it was restlessness. I couldn't sit around and wait for destiny, so I traveled, until my fate happened to stumble across me in the ruins of a Motavian town.
I had expected him to be taller.
But, as my new-old memories can tell me, there is a certain fondness I had for him even then; when I saw him, he reminded me of Alis, of Rolf, and the feelings that my predecessors had for them. Although my support for Chaz didn't stem from the same feelings as Noah's brotherly camaradarie with Alis, or Lutz's loving affection for Rolf, it was strong. Of course, I couldn't just say that- I have a reputation, after all, and the runt had some growing-up to do. The responsibility of Lutz is to choose the fated soldier to fight the Darkness, not potty-train him. Still, he turned out all right.
For a long while I wondered whether my judgment really would be right; whatever part of me had the instinct to carry out my destiny knew it with the same certainty with which I cast my spells, but the rest of me wasn't anywhere near as confident. Chaz was still a boy, angry and confused- and who could blame him? A million things had gone wrong in his life, and he was just smart enough to realize what most of them were. Why shouldn't he curse the Light for abandoning its children to what might have been an eternal cycle of peace and misery, if not for Dark Force's victory in the Great Collapse? Although I knew it wasn't the real truth, I could understand it from Chaz's point of view- all at once, the entire solar system became his little sister, just as forgotten and forsaken as he had been, and the Great Light became the heartless parents he'd always dreamt of knowing. When he touched the Elsydeon, heard its voice and felt its story, I knew he had changed his mind, but even that was only my instinct as Lutz. I didn't know what Alis had said to him, or what he'd felt at that time; what did she tell him? What did he know? And had he really let his anger fade as much as it seemed?
These were the things I was thinking about the night before the final battle. Termi's nights were quiet; the people hadn't heard anything about the hole in the planet, the death of Mile; here, everything was peaceful and quiet, and the Statue of Alis Landle watched over everyone as they slept. From my place, sitting in the windowframe, I could see her finely-chiseled stone face smiling serenely over the town.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" Chaz's voice drifted in from my doorway and interrupted my thoughts. He came forward and quietly leaned against the wall on my right.
"Hm," I replied.
He smiled for a minute. "You want to know what made me change my mind."
"I assumed it was because you stopped being obstinate and realized how important this is."
He laughed. "No. Well, yes, in a way," he said, but didn't continue.
"Well?"
"What?"
"Are you going to tell me?"
"Do you want to know?"
"Yeah."
He breathed a soft sigh. In that moment he seemed suddenly very, very old. "Because of Alys."
"Alys?"
"Yeah.... when I heard about the Great Light, abandoning us all to deal with his problems, I thought, why should we help him? Why should we have to fight so hard to clean up somebody else's mess, just a slave to pick up after an absent master? He doesn't care about us, why should we care about him? And then I thought about it-- Alys didn't pick me up and teach me to fight as a favor to my parents who abandoned me. She picked me up because... well, for her, or for me, or whatever reason she had. But it wasn't for them. So... I don't want to save Algo because of the Great Light. I want to save it for everyone on Algo who's suffering because of what the Darkness is doing. Everybody who's had to fight, so much and for so long..." He turned his eyes to me as he said it, and I think Alis must have shown him what the Legacy of Lutz really is, because there was an apology in his tone that made my heart ache. I didn't look back at him. "We'll end it," he said quietly. "Tomorrow, we'll end it, and go home..."
He laid his head on my shoulder, in a way that made me feel warm. Bits and pieces of old memories, feelings that both were and weren't mine for people who were and weren't Chaz, resurfaced in my mind. To my Esper senses I could feel both an aching loneliness and a longing for the familiar that radiated from Chaz like light itself. In that moment, I understood everything in him perfectly-- the acceptance of a universal burden because it hit so close to home; the fear of not being good enough, both to save the planet or for his parents to keep him; the knowledge and wisdom of the ages wrapped up in a painfully young mind; and the sudden need for warmth and companionship and love and understanding and above all else, acceptance.
"What about Rika?" I asked.
"What?"
"You know."
"Oh... I see..." he looked down. "You mean I should go see her."
"No. I was just wondering why you didn't."
He hesitated, but gave up. "She doesn't understand," he said, finally, and I knew what he meant. "You do." Again, hesitantly, he turned his head closer against my neck.
Soon, it was a war against my sensibilities; the part of me that insisted on upholding the position of Lutz, to always maintain proper decorum, warred with the part of me that cared more for Chaz as a beloved friend than a responsibility, and finally it evened out and I allowed myself to just lightly kiss his forehead, a sign of affection and reverence. I had almost convinced myself that I wouldn't do any more than that, until the slight, heated wisp of breath escaped his lips against my neck, and I decided it would not be improper to kiss his temples, then his cheeks, until it became apparent that my inner conflict was resolved and we put our arms around each other.
Chaz's inexperience was both comforting and endearing; although his hands were strong and sure when he was holding a sword, they weren't so confident when he ran them through my hair, or down my chest. I took a certain consolation in that, although I'm not sure why; maybe it was just the novelty of just how innocent he really was, underneath the armor and uniform. Innocent, and attractively muscular.
He was the first to raise himself up and give me a real kiss, tentative but enthusiastic, and I found myself content to show him the nuances of the delicate art before his youthful.... exhuberance, let's say, got the better of him, and he pulled me away from the window and, quite literally, took me to bed. For those few moments, with my hands lightly running over his body, his fingertips and mouth exploring me in the first real contact he'd ever been able to have, everything seemed far away. All the pain of wounds and exhaustion, the misery, the stress, the weight of the burden on our backs; all of it melted away in the warmth between his racing heart and mine; once again, he was a very apt student to a willing teacher. We slept well.
When morning came and the sunlight flooded our room, I sat up and looked out of my window. I couldn't help but think that the statue of the Heroine was smiling just a little more than yesterday.