i am forever in love
a lover with a flaw
- Aoife Ni Fhearraigh
"The Best is Yet to Come"
Young Lions
(2.75/3)
Do You Like Your World?
Mac walked in with a black eye one day, like nothing was wrong. He fixed himself some cereal with milk from the mini fridge and ate it in bed. He seemed even more upbeat than usual.
"The hell happened to you?" Roy didn't like letting these things linger.
"Training accident." Mac shrugged it off.
But Roy knew Doc, knew how the man ran his gym. The trainer took no risks and tolerated no nonsense from his fighters.
Mac had been both distracted and restless lately. Lucina had noticed it too. But Roy'd had suspicions for a while. He knew the signs, from the way Mac wrapped his knuckles and iced his wounds, to the odd hours that he stayed out late. Roy knew what was going on, even without having to ask his friend directly.
Mac had been to the underground. He'd been fighting illegal bouts. He was hoping to get recruited. Chasing the same dream that Roy had abandoned.
It was dangerous. But if he possessed even a fraction of the same ambition Roy had once had, there'd be no talking him out of it.
Roy knew exactly what that was like. He'd been reckless once. He couldn't deny Mac the chance of victory. But Roy also knew the flip side of it. Between the loose molars and the cracked ribs and traumatic brain injuries, there was a magnificent price to pay for glory.
The seasons were changing. And as the weather cooled, Roy felt a creeping unease. Just as he had grown used to some things, just as he had started to form some meaningful bonds, he had a feeling he was about to lose it all again.
On the anniversary of his father's death, Roy finally got word from his dealer. There was, apparently, a buyer for the sword.
Rent was due. So Roy agreed to meet up and close the sale. The chosen location was a hotel downtown.
On the weekend, while Mac slept in, Roy dragged himself out of bed. The buyer had arranged for a cab to take him to the meeting. Waking up had become easier these days for some reason.
The morning streets were quiet. It was so clean in this part of town. The sidewalks had been swept. The new theater had opened. Some new restaurants had moved in too. All of it seemed high-end. Roy never came here much.
The cab let him off at the front entrance of the hotel. Roy stepped through the glass doors and into the lobby. Beyond the reception desk, there was a cafe, nearly empty at this hour.
Seated at the bar was a familiar figure, wide shoulders testing the seams of a navy polo shirt.
Roy made his way over. He grinned in spite of himself. "Great fucking Aether, you fucking loser."
Clean cut and inconspicuous, Ike Greil nevertheless had the eyes of a man that the world had tried to break. He rose up to give Roy a hug.
"How have you been, you goddamn pain in the ass?"
"Ah, well, you know. Surviving." Roy took a seat next to him.
On the opposite wall, a big screen TV ran a newscast. War and financial downturns. Movie star marriages and political elections.
"I heard rumors," Ike said.
"Rumors?"
"That you were making a comeback."
"Nah, man." Out of the corner of his eye flickered a censored image of a dead child, embraced by a wailing young father.
"I'm done," Roy said.
Ike looked him over. Probably could tell that he'd been working out. Probably wondered what for.
A server behind the counter offered a complimentary glass of a ice water. Roy accepted.
To Ike, he asked, "How's business?"
"It's okay."
"Still fighting for your friends?"
Ike slid a business card over the counter top. He had a wedding band on his ring finger. Roy decided not to ask about it. He'd save that one for later.
For now, Roy just picked up the business card. "Private contract security?"
"It's a paying gig."
On the card, Ike had dropped the traditional "son of" between his name and his father's. He had opted for a more modern naming pattern. Most people from their part of the world did the same so that their names would fit properly on legal forms.
"Sounds decent," Roy said. "How's the family?"
"My sister had her baby. She wants to name him after me."
"That's a compliment, man." Roy thought that he really owed Boyd a text, a call, or something.
"I told her to pick something else. I don't want to carry that burden."
"Aw, can't be that bad."
But it was another mouth to feed. It meant that Ike would be out in the field working again. Real soon.
"I like to keep a low profile."
"Can't blame ya."
"We're lucky in a way. As long as there's unrest, there's business for us."
Roy took a sip of the water. "That's just how things are. The world needs peacekeepers too."
Ike nodded. He never liked to talk about his job too much. "I was surprised to hear from you."
"Really?"
"I heard you fell off."
"Well, my life's not that interesting."
Ike started to say something, then stopped. He and Roy had come from the same continent. From countries with interwoven histories and similar troubles. If anything, Ike understood the things that Roy would never say out loud.
"When my father died," the mercenary told him, "we had to sell some of his things. The company was in debt. We were trying to stay afloat. Eventually, some jobs came through. We got things up and running. We got some money. When our ledgers were out of the red, I went out and bought back some of the things that we had sold off. My father's mementos. They have less value to other people than they do to me. Sometimes, it's a physical object that ties us to our history. It's hard to not have a past. Without that connection, we're fated to always wander, to spend time in places but not belong anywhere. There's no purpose to life when you have no attachments."
Ike understood things too well.
Roy lifted the case containing his mother's sword onto his lap. He'd been holding it this whole time. Now he handed it over to Ike, wordlessly.
Ike accepted it. He didn't put it on the counter but held it protectively across his knees. He flipped the latches and opened first the outer case, then the inner embroidered box.
Roy watched him over the brim of the glass of water. Ike never touched the sword itself. He just looked it over. Then he closed the lid of the box. He shut the carrier case over it and latched it tight. He turned to Roy.
"Are you sure?"
"Wire me the money."
"I will."
On the TV screen, armored tanks rolled out across a field, grey mountains in the background, under a blue sky. Through the smoke and mist, masked riders on horseback, armed with rifles and bows and arrows, rode out to meet them. Clouds of dust, kicked up from the galloping horses, enveloped the riders. They pressed forward against impossible odds. The footage cut away to a map, red dots pinpointing key locations of interest. Then it cut to a commercial. Smash Bros. promo material. Samus versus Bayonetta.
Roy watched it all without comment. Next to him, Ike did the same.
"Do you want to meet the buyer?" the mercenary asked.
"Not really."
Ike hesitated. "The buyer wants to meet you."
"Why?"
"It's complicated."
"Is there something I should know about this deal?"
Ike gave him a single nod. "He's staying at the hotel. I can take you to his room. If you'd rather not, that's okay. The deal will still go through."
Ike was known for his straightforwardness. He didn't have the temperament for deception or manipulation. If he withheld information, it was because he was protecting something or someone.
Roy sighed. "Okay. Fine. Have him send the money. Then we'll go up."
"All right." Ike got on the phone. It took a few seconds. "Let's go."
Roy followed him to the elevators. Ike carried the sword in its case. Missing its weight, Roy kept both hands in his pockets while they rode up.
At the top floor, they stepped out onto the hallway. A suite waited for them at the very end of the corridor. Ike waved his key card, and the door clicked open.
It was probably the most expensive suite in the hotel. The couches and tables were occupied. Roy glanced over the gathering and placed the subjects into two groups. One was clearly Ike's, professional security trying to look casual. The other belonged to Ike's client. Civilians in business attire.
Ike nodded at his people as he crossed the room. Roy followed. But behind him, the whispers of a conversation caught his ear.
He stopped. Couldn't help it. He knew that tone.
So he turned around to face off with one of them. Tall motherfucker. Roy locked eyes with him. Chin out. Stance open. Hands at his sides. "Say that again?"
It was one of Ike's guys. He and his buddy stared at Roy like he was garbage. "We were wondering," the man said, "if you were the half-son of Eliwood."
The words were all right. But the tone of it was all wrong. Some people knew how to get under your skin with a single look or an inflection of voice.
Fire surged in his blood. But Roy bit back the worst of it.
"I am the son of Lyndis," he said.
"Really? Don't think she ever mentioned you."
Ike looked over. "Shinon..."
"Nice," Roy said. "Shannon. That's the cutest name I've ever heard for a bitch."
The other man flushed red. Jaw clenched. "Listen, you freakin' leprechaun. You're too short to be throwing words around like a tough guy."
"And you're too pretty to wanna get your face smashed so hard."
"If I weren't working, you could try me. We'd see which of us gets beat."
"Well, I guess you could still sell handjobs with a broken jaw."
"You think you're funny."
"I know I'm funny."
"You've got some mouth for a washed up ex-pro from the bottom tier."
"You've got some good hair for an old prison bitch."
Ike stepped between them. "Enough."
Shinon turned away in disgust.
Ike motioned for Roy to come with him. Roy blew a kiss at his adversary, then followed Ike through the doorway. In the next room, three men and one woman were seated around a glass conference table. They were strangers to Roy. All but one.
He locked eyes with Roy and rose from his chair, holding out a hand. The others stood up with him.
Numbly, Roy took his hand. They shook. He had the strong grip of a fencer.
"Thanks for agreeing to meet with me." His was a simple honest smile. Blue eyes. Auburn hair. A very young face, features like that of the father they both shared. "I'm Roy of Lycia."
Son of Eliwood and Ninian. Duke of Pharae.
"I'm just Roy."
Duke of roach infested motels and gas station toilets.
"Please have a seat."
"Sure." Roy slid into the nearest chair.
"We met a long time ago," the other Roy said. "We were both children then."
"I remember."
"Those were difficult times. I want you to know that we tried to find you. We didn't know you were still alive. Our reports said that you had fallen in the siege at the capitol. We were relieved to learn that it wasn't true."
"It's fine. It turned out all right."
He was supposed to have fallen. He was the chosen decoy. But he'd been too strong. And his mother had had other plans.
Not even an army had been able to stop her from protecting her son. The first one in to the fight, and the last one out - that was Lady Lyndis of Sacae.
Ike gently placed the case onto the table.
The young duke reached for it. He opened the lid. For a moment, he simply stared at the sword. Then he closed it back up, respectfully. Like the lid of a casket.
"You've taken very good care of this heirloom. I know what it must mean to you to part with it. I'm not buying this for myself. This sword, Lady Lyn's sword, will go to her daughter. Her daughter and I are allies in this struggle. So I wanted to give this to her. It would mean a great deal to both of us."
Roy took a long deep breath. He let it out. "Yeah. It's the right thing to do, right?"
"We think so."
"All right. It'll be in good hands."
He wondered if he could just get up and leave with too much fallout.
One of the aides set down two cups on the table and poured a traditional wine into them. The duke handed one cup to Roy. He took it. They raised cups in unison and drank.
"You've been our loyal servant since birth. We would have provided for you in better times."
"Hey, it's okay. I found my way."
"You know the situation we're facing now."
"I guess so. I've seen the news."
"One day, I'd like to repay you properly."
"Don't worry about it."
"If it weren't for your sacrifice, I wouldn't be alive right now. No matter what else happens to me in this life, I don't think I'll ever forget you."
His sincerity, laid out in the open, commanded respect from everyone in the room. No wonder Ike had chosen him, and his cause, to fight for.
Roy pushed his cup toward the aide with the wine bottle. "Have another with me then."
"Of course."
They drank another. Then another. And another. The tension in the room eased up a little. Two of the aides slipped out. Ike and one other stayed behind.
Roy took over pouring the wine.
The half-brothers raised cups again.
"To our mothers," the duke said. "And our father. May they watch over us."
"To my sister," Roy said, "and her father, and the rebellion. May they survive."
"I've never seen him cut loose like that," Ike said.
"Yeah, I'm a pretty bad influence."
Braced over the sink, catching cold water in his hands. Roy rinsed off his face. Checked his eyes in the bathroom mirror. He was okay. Not even halfway drunk yet.
Ike stood with his back to the wall, arms crossed, hair tousled, eyes dark.
"Didn't expect you to join us," Roy said.
"I don't drink often."
"Yeah, well, keep on doing you, right?"
Ike leaned forward against the edge of the sink. Roy made way, watched as Ike tugged off his headband and held it under the water. He soaked it through and wrung it out. Then he pressed it to his forehead.
By removing the headband, he had revealed a scar that was usually hidden beneath it. The mark was at the center of his forehead, curved and crossed over, smooth and pale red. It looked like a sacred wound.
Roy couldn't help himself. "Is there a story behind that?"
Ike shut off the faucet. "It's a brand," he said.
"I've heard of them. Looks like it must have hurt."
"Not really." His voice was quiet enough that Roy recognized it as a sensitive topic.
Roy pulled aside the collar of his shirt to reveal the ink on his chest. An old word in ancient script. A name.
"I only play with needles."
Ike offered a wry smile. "Do you have a story for that?"
"Nah." Roy straightened out his collar. "It's just so that I remember something that I need to remember."
Someone that he needed to remember. But he wasn't going to spell it out like that.
Ike stared down his own reflection in the mirror. "I got it done when I was on deployment," he said. "It was... because of a vow."
Roy nodded. He glanced at the wedding ring and figured out the rest. This, ritualistic scarring, was something they both had in common.
"Then you better keep your promise," he said to Ike. To the living or the dead, he didn't want to ask.
"I'm trying."
"That's all we can do."
Ike sighed and threw his head back. He blinked hard, then looked at Roy. "I'll take you back to your place."
"Sure."
They slipped out the bathroom and left the suite. Roy had already said his goodbyes. The elevator brought them down to the parking garage. A couple of Ike's people met them there.
"Hey, boss."
"I'm taking my car."
"No problem. It's right here."
"Thanks. Don't stay up too late."
The two men laughed.
A nondescript black SUV waited in a corner of the garage. Its interior matched the exterior, dark and polished. All manual controls. With Ike in the driver's seat, Roy took the passenger side. The vehicle made almost no noise as it started up and Ike pulled them out of the garage.
Roy wanted to ask if it was bulletproof, but he didn't want to look like an idiot.
They hit the expressway. The hour was late enough that all lanes were open. The city skyline lit up their right, while mountains rose up to their left. Roy lay back in his seat.
"If I were you," Ike said, "I wouldn't have done it."
Roy said nothing.
"To live like this, without a country, without a home. It takes a lot out of you. For the rest of your life, you'll go on, knowing that something vital was taken from you. It will always be missing. We're not like the people who belong to a set place. People who have a homeland. We were losers long before we ever made it to the big stage. Before they made us rockstars and celebrities, we were orphans, every single last one of us."
The sky was as dark as the road. No stars. Just man made lights to show them the way.
The way where? Home? Where were they going?
"Have you ever met my half-sister?" Roy asked.
Ike nodded, just once. "I can't say much on that. She is determined. She is capable. Her trainer was Shinon."
Roy couldn't stop his eyes from rolling. "That sounds fucking awesome."
"His personality is trash," Ike said, "but he's good at what he does. Otherwise he wouldn't be working for me."
"If you say so."
"The only other thing I can tell you about your sister is that..." Ike stopped to consider his next words. "She is everything her mother would have wanted her to be."
"Then it's just as well that she has the sword. I was just holding it for her anyway."
"I'm sure your mother wanted to give you something too. But there just wasn't enough to go around. Those were the times."
"She gave me this life," Roy said. "That's everything right there."
His first vow had been to her. His last would be to her memory.
"Don't throw away what she gave you," Ike said.
"I won't. You don't either, ya' hear me?"
Roy was tired by the time he reached his apartment. Ike had dropped him off at the door.
"Keep my business card," Ike had told him. "I'll be in touch."
"Thanks, man."
Once inside the room, Roy shed his jacket and shoes. All he wanted was his bed.
It was late, and he left the lights off while he felt his way quietly to the top bunk. But as he lay down, something didn't seem right. He felt a small piece of paper pressed against his back. He reached behind him and pulled it out in the dark. It was an envelope.
He climbed back down and hit the light switch.
Mac's bottom bunk was empty.
Not only that, the closet door had been left open. Inside, there were only Roy's things. All of Mac's things were gone.
Written on the front of the envelope, in Mac's jagged handwriting, was the message: "I don't do good byes. See you there. Love you, man."
Inside, Roy found a plastic card. He immediately recognized the flashy logo. VIP, all access. A spectator ticket to the next Smash tournament.
He checked his phone. He had missed a call from Lucina. He sent her a text.
She responded almost immediately: "Meet me at the gym tomorrow, usual time."
Roy lay back down in the dark, but he couldn't really sleep.
Mac was gone. Fucking bastard.
As he drifted off, he had dreams that seemed too real. Dreams of break room conversations and glass shattered across the top of a bar. Dreams of the monotony of the work day. Dreams of fights in the arena before a crowd.
He woke up late the next day. Had time to shower but not shave. He arrived at the gym to find Lucina already waiting.
She held up her ticket. "I got one of these in my mail slot. He never told me anything."
"I got one too."
"That idiot!" She reached into her breast pocket and retrieved another plastic card, this one gold-colored. "I already have one. I got accepted. I'll be competing."
Roy smiled. "Congratulations."
Lucina rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "I can't believe he left like that! When I see him, I'm going to kill him. What's wrong with him?"
"He hates good-byes apparently."
"Doc Louis is here. We should go talk to him."
They found the trainer in his office. He had his own Smash VIP badge laid out on his desk.
"Mac's gonna be fine," he assured them. "Kid's got fire. Never thinks a damn thing through, and that may be his undoing. But it looks like it's working out for him so far."
"But you're his trainer!" Lucina objected. "How's he going to handle things without you? He can barely tie his own shoe laces."
"Well, the Smash training camp is set to start real soon. I'll get to joining him after I find a replacement to look after things for me here. This gym ain't gonna run itself."
Roy looked at the papers stacked on the desk, recognized some of them as invoices from various vendors. He knew what it was like to run an operation of this scale. He knew what it was like to watch the bottom line, to worry about breaking even, to fight to stay ahead of loan payments and debt collectors.
Once, when things had gotten bad, he had borrowed money from Falco, swearing that he'd pay him back. And Falco had simply patted Roy on the shoulder and never asked about it again.
Last night, when the bank had confirmed the wire transfer, Roy had sent his old friend that long overdue payment.
So he knew that Mac wasn't just in it for himself. He was reckless but not selfish. He intended to rise up and take everyone else with him.
All he had to do was compete. The fame and recognition would boost the business at Doc's gym. Take care of those who took care of you - that was a rule that Mac had always lived by.
"But why did he run off like this? He could have just told us in person."
"I don't know, young lady. He has taken quite a few hits to the head in his time. So he don't always think straight."
"Did he say good-bye to you at least?"
"No, he didn't say bye. He called and said, 'Doc, I got in. You'll still be my trainer, right?' And I said, 'Yeah, I'll be there to back you up.'"
Doc looked between Roy and Lucina. "You kids are going too, aren't you?"
Roy nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Then there's no need to worry. We'll all meet again at the tournament."
Lucina was fighting back tears. She sprang forward and gave Doc a hug, catching the older man by surprise.
"Thanks for letting us train here," she said.
"You're welcome, honey. Just remember, when you're out there, hold nothing back. If you up against Mac, give it to him too. He can take it."
They left the gym, and Roy took Lucina out for food. Tried to cheer her up a little. But he was in the same mental space as she was. They both fell quiet, lost in their own thoughts.
"You're coming too, right?" she asked him. "Even just to watch."
"Well, if I can get the time off."
"You should. Please try. He'll be lost without you."
"Yeah, he once flooded the first floor of the dorms trying to do laundry."
"I remember that story! See? He needs you around to keep him out of trouble."
Afterwards, Roy walked her to the train station, knowing that they were parting ways, possibly for good.
"I'm sorry I can't continue my training," she said. "I really do want to learn your mother's sword style. When the tournament ends, I'll be back."
"It's fine. This should be your top priority for now. I'm going to send you info for another sword instructor I know who works with Smash fighters."
"Please do."
Roy texted her the most recent contact he had for Mia. "She'll help you prepare."
"Thank you." Lucina stood in front of him and bowed deeply.
Stunned, he had no choice but to return the gesture.
She straightened up, brushing strands of dark hair out of her face. Her smile was overwhelmingly sad. "I'm just not ready for this to be over."
"I know what you mean."
"I feel like we just met."
"We'll meet again."
"Promise?"
"Well..."
"Just lie and make me feel better."
"Okay. Yeah. I'll see you out there. This isn't the end. It's just another beginning."
"Thank you, Sensei."
The train pulled into the station. He watched as she boarded. On her back, she carried her sword, sealed in a black case.
She waved at him. He did the same, just before the doors closed and the train rolled out.
The sun was bright, but the air was cold. Roy walked home alone.
He got into bed and lay down for a while. Let it all wash over him. Summer was over. He had some choices to make.
The decision came more quickly than he thought possible.
He picked up the phone and called Snake.
do you remember
how you turned to sorrow
is the blame mine
or ours