15. Teruteru-bouzu

(A/N: A teruteru-bouzu is a charm for luck and good weather made by children out of tissue paper. It usually looks like a little white ghost - imagine a marble wrapped in a tissue with a rubber band tied at the 'neck'. In the story, I sort of added another meaning of granting a wish - I don't think that's really part of the tradition, but maybe it's different in Shin Makoku.)

"Older brother!"

Conrad turned and smiled when his eyes met the shining face of his fair younger brother. The boy was running towards him with a bright smile, and Conrad had to resist the urge to bend down and pat his head like a puppy dog. He'd been away for months on a military exercise, and he was surprised at how fast Wolfram was growing up, even though his pure Mazoku blood was making the process somewhat slower than he was accustomed to.

He knelt and held out his arms to draw the small boy into a friendly hug. "Wolfram," he said warmly. "You're getting so big!" He pulled back to arm length to inspect his brother. "And stronger," he mused. "Have you been practicing?"

"Yuh-huh!" Wolfram bobbed his head. "And look what I learned to do!" He held out his little hands and furrowed his brow in concentration. After a moment, a tiny spark of fire appeared and bobbed up and down over his palms. He looked up at Conrad proudly.

"That's impressive!" the young man said honestly, chuckling slightly as he pulled away. "Be careful with that though. Magic fire is very difficult to put out, you know."

Wolfram wrinkled his nose and clapped his hands together, extinguishing the spark. "I know, I know," he said. "Isn't it cool though?"

Conrad grinned. "Very. Or rather, hot?"

"Ewww, bad joke," the younger boy complained.

Conrad laughed and straightened to a standing position. "My apologies. Shall we go visit mother?" He took one of Wolfram's hands in his own, and they walked leisurely back to the castle, winding through the flower gardens that they used to play in so often. Conrad felt a twinge of regret in his heart that his duties as a soldier were taking him away from his family. He'd always been like a father to Wolfram, thanks to their mother's duties as the Maou, and now that he was absent so much of the time he knew that the two of them were slowly growing apart.

And it was only a matter of time before he would find out about Conrad's true heritage... he sighed softly. Little Wolfram looked up in concern. "What's the matter, big brother?"

"Nothing, Wolf," he said with a smile. "I was just taking in the fresh air. It's a great day to walk in the gardens, don't you think?"

The boy wrinkled his nose. "You sound like an old man."

Conrad chuckled. "Sorry. I feel like one sometimes. Military life is hard." He cocked an eyebrow. "You still sure you want to be a soldier?"

Wolfram beamed. "Yuh-huh! I wanna be like Conrad!" He waved his free hand in mock swashbuckling movements. "Then we can play with real swords! And you can show me your magic!"

"Ah," Conrad hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Sounds good."

They walked in silence for a little while, until the walls of the castle drew close enough that Conrad could see a row of tiny white dolls hanging from one of the balconies. He tugged Wolfram's hand and pointed up at them. "What are those?" he asked curiously.

"They're little ghosts!" the boy responded. "I made them! Gwen taught me how. He says they'll look out for us and bring good weather and grant people's wishes." The row of tissue-paper dolls waved gently in the breeze.

Conrad smiled gently. I wonder where he got that idea, he wondered. "Why, that's wonderful! How many is that? Five?"

"Yeah! I made one for you and Mother and Gwen and Uncle Stoffel and me, of course."

"Oh? Do we all get wishes then?"

"I'unno. I made one, though."

Conrad looked down. "You did? What'd you wish for?"

The little boy's fair skin flushed prettily and he averted his eyes. "It's dumb," he muttered.

"Oh, now I'm curious," Conrad chuckled. "Don't make me tickle it out of you!"

Wolfram's eyes widened. "Okay, okay!" He shuffled his feet nervously. "Promise not to make fun of me?"

"I promise."

"Okay then... I wished for someone to love."

Conrad cocked an eyebrow curiously. "Oh really?" Is it that time already? he wondered to himself. But he still looks so young... "What kind of person do you want to love?"

"I'unno... someone like in the fairy tales."

"A fair princess, you mean?"

Wolfram wrinkled his nose. "Ew, a girl?"

I see. That does explain some things. Conrad chuckled. "A prince, then?"

The boy tilted his head thoughtfully. "No, not really... more like... a hero." He looked up at his brother. "You know, someone really brave and good. Who uses magic and stuff to save people and fight bad guys." His eyes shone dreamily. "Do you think I'll meet someone like that?"

Conrad tilted his head and smiled warmly. "Well, you wished for it, right? Then I'm sure it will come true someday."


Many years later, Conrad stood by his bedroom window, gazing out into a sunset and wandering in reminiscence. A knock on his door jerked him out of the memory, and he shook his head slightly. "Come in," he called.

Oddly enough, it was Wolfram who came in. "Wolfram," he said, making no attempt to hide his surprise. "What brings you here?" When was the last time you came to my room?

The boy hesitated at the door, as if he weren't sure if he should stay or go. Eventually he took a step into the room and closed the door behind him. "I, uh... I wanted to..." he trailed off, his emerald eyes burning holes into the floor. Conrad tilted his head curiously.

"Did you have something you wanted to ask me?"

"Ah, yeah, that's it," Wolfram said, looking up with a nervous smile. "You can probably guess..."

Conrad smiled. "Probably."

Wolfram looked blankly at him for a moment, then furrowed his brow in agitation. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

"It's more fun that way."

Wolfram sighed. "It's about... well, Yuuri..."

The older man nodded knowingly. He spent almost every waking moment with the two boys. It wasn't hard for him to see that his little brother was falling in love. He'd been watching it happen for a long time now.

"Do you think that he..." Wolfram trailed off, apparently lost for words. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head in disgust. "Ah, I don't even know. Just forget it."

"Yuuri's a hero, right?" Conrad asked gently, crossing his arms and tilting his head to one side.

Wolfram looked back at him with wide eyes. "You... remember that?"

Conrad smiled. "I remember everything about growing up with you, Wolf."

The boy blinked, then flushed and turned his head quickly to the side. "...Yeah," he said after a long pause. "He is."

"And what are you, Wolfram?"

That caused the boy to raise his head and look sidelong at his brother. "I am... his knight..." he said softly.

Conrad crossed the room then, closing the distance between them. He placed one hand on his brother's shoulder, halfway expecting the boy to tear away in disgust. But he didn't. "And how do those stories always end?"

"...Happily ever after?"

"That's right."

Wolfram sighed. "Those are fairy stories, Weller. This is real life."

Conrad tilted his head. "Is it really so different?"

"Of course it is. This one doesn't have an ending yet."

He smiled. "Then write one."

Wolfram looked up at him, his brilliant green eyes shining with sudden understanding. He smiled faintly, and Conrad thought he could see grateful tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. The moment passed swiftly, however, and soon enough Wolfram was his usual self again, complete with a high airs and a haughty expression. Conrad released his grip on the boy's shoulder.

"You're so hard to talk to sometimes," Wolfram complained loudly. He turned to leave, then paused to look over his shoulder. His expression softened. "But... thank you," he murmured, before retreating from the room.

Conrad watched him go and stood in the center of his room alone, lost in thought. After several minutes had passed, he turned and went over to his desk, where he pulled open the very bottom drawer. He reached inside and drew out two objects that were very precious to him - a rubber duck toy, and a small paper ghost, its careful folds twisted out of place by exposure to the wind. He placed both objects on the desk and sank into his chair, gazing at them thoughtfully. The sun had all but set, and saturated beams of pink and orange light spilled into his room through the window. Long shadows skittered across the surface of the desk when he reached out to take the paper ghost into his hands.

"Wolfram," he murmured softly, cradling the delicate item as though it were a priceless treasure.

"...I know what I'm going to wish for."