Cure Narrative 51: Stay

Season: Heartcatch

Character: Baron Salamander, Olivier

Summary: Honesty is valuable in drastic times.

"Is it really alright to let them down like this?" the Baron asked the little boy, "The fashion show, I mean."

"It's fine," he replied with a slight chuckle, pushing himself away from the balcony of their inn room.

"It's not the place I want to be right now."

Here they were in the capital of flowers, an odd duo never before seen, a human child with the spirit of a wolf, and a Desert Apostle with the fury of a dragon.

Until yesterday.

Until yesterday, the child was possessed by the wolf, be it a blessing or a curse. Until yesterday, the Desert Apostle was perpetually blinded by his hatred, unable to see a light that had been there all along.

But as the sun rose on a new page of their story, they both embraced the decision of living on with the other.

For the first time in... he could not recall, Olivier gulped down his breakfast, carefree, as any child would after an especially pleasant dream. Though in his case, it was not a dream.

His attention was fixed on his garlic baguette, but he kept an eye open for every last detail that went down around him while strolling down the pavement. They had saved Paris, they had saved the world, and he decided that allowing himself to drown in the beauty of that which they had saved was not such a bad idea.

No, it had not been a dream. The wolf, the dragon, the fire, the pain, the tears, the screaming, the flowers. They had all been real.

Now his eyes stopped on the cracking hand that limply dangled from the Baron's shoulder — it had been real too.

"Baron?" he peeked quietly.

"Hmm?"

"What is happening... to your hand?"

The Baron halted for a brief, imperceptible millisecond, "It's nothing. Just a vexing little defect now."

Not feeling like relenting, the boy grabbed the Baron's hand, like a child that just passed by with his father. The Baron flinched ever so slightly.

"Aha, it still hurts," Olivier tactfully withdrew his hand.

The Baron glowered, "The pain will fade."

"The cracks won't."

"..."

Chomping on his baguette.

Taking a sip from his coffee.

Trying to adjust his scarf (which was not there because it had been given to somebody special).

Running a hand through his long red hair.

And yet no words were exchanged. Perhaps it was to be expected, neither of them were good at expressing themselves in words honestly.

But the boy wished to believe that he had changed. He wished to believe that she had left him with not only a new name, but a new self. He wished to live up to the smile she had offered him when they parted.

So he must speak his mind, his heart. No longer would he hide.

"Father," he started tentatively.

"What is it?" the Baron responded, trying (but failing) to refrain from being flustered.

"You will... stay with me, right?"

"Unless there are better places to go, I don't see why not—"

"I'm not asking about that and you know it!" Olivier barked back.

After taking a painstakingly time-consuming sip from his coffee, he replied with apparent irritation in his voice, "Look, you know that I'm a Desert Apostle and—"

"I don't care what you are," Olivier insisted, "You are the only father I've ever had, I don't want you going anywhere. I don't want to wake up and find you in cracks one day!"

The Baron averted his eyes, gazing at anywhere but the child in fear of letting his emotions slip out. Sure, the sun did rose on a new page of their story, but he knew this tale was meant to end on a starless night.

One day, he would dissipate into sand and perish from this world. That day, this boy would be devastated. Devastated over a creature who attempted to exterminate his race for over 400 years.

Misplaced love. Misplaced affection. Misplaced hope. The child was perhaps too naive to foresee the inevitable pain and sorrow in their shared future when he declared them as family.

Or perhaps he was too intelligent, only putting on a facade.

Was the Baron not the same? He was a Desert Apostle, their time would flow differently. Even in his current condition, it was not entirely inconceivable that he would outlive the child. What would he do then? What else was left in his world except this young boy?

The Baron could not comprehend this… this oddity in humans. Family, friends, lovers, everyone is destined to rot away one day. So what was the point in opening your heart to someone who is destined to break it?

"I… can't make any promises," the Baron answered, "But I will try to live, if that is what you wish for."

To his surprise, Olivier was satisfied, and grinned with a soft "ehehe". The Baron could not help but succumb to the oddity of this world as well and smiled like an idiot.

He raised his broken hand to stroke the child's head. The nerves on his palm were all wrecked, and he could no longer feel the warmth of the boy who had been with him throughout these few years, but that did not make the child's honest words any less warm.

He decided to stay, to continue putting on a facade, to keep on believing that their pages were filled with flowers until the ending. He could not help but think maybe that was how humans managed through their short lives, the lack of a promise of eternity, maybe that faith was what humans hold onto instead of hatred and solitude.

What was it that Cure Blossom liked to say? That people change when they encounter others? Well, perhaps it was true after all, he mused, as he muttered under his breath, "I've lost, Cure Ange. Hatred has lost."

End of Chapter 51

A/N: And in case someone read this without remembering every detail in the Heartcatch movie, this 'Cure Ange' is from the Heartcatch universe, not the Hugtto universe.