"Guts?" that soft, intoxicating voice called to him. Guts stopped in his tracks, his boots sunk into the mixture of sand and grass as he just left the thick forest and spotted the beach in front of him. The trees just ended where he stood, brush and tall grass stood up to his hips. He turned his head to see Casca, half hidden behind a tree, still dressed like a princess with her flowery dress. She slowly walked away from her hiding spot, her face was flushed, and her arms were behind her back. Guts looked down to see her foot tracing circles in the sand. "C-Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?" he responded, a bit colder than what he intended. The fatigue from earlier still weighed heavily on him. And, to be perfectly honest, he was in shock. It was a rare thing to see Casca embarrassed. Extremely rare. In fact, he could count on one hand the amount of times he actually saw her like that. She always carried herself as a proud warrior, and now she was like a timid village girl. It was cute, if strange.

"We-Well," Casca stumbled to start, her face only grew redder as she went on. Her eyes swung down to the foot that played in the sand. Guts raised an eyebrow as he waited for her to go on, but all he heard was a nervous chuckle. What could have possible gotten into her? He needed to leave... Guts looked back to the beach, to the ship that waited at the port. The massive vessel called out to him, demanded that he get on board and set sail. "Th-There's apparently a show the children are going to put on..."

"The kids?" Guts asked, his face contorted in confusion. What, the mages? They did shows? Or did she mean the kids with them? Isidro definitely would not do a 'show', he wanted to fight. Isma would probably do a show; something about fish or mermaids, maybe. Schrieke would probably do one too. She could show off that magic of hers to an audience. Guts pulled himself out of the rabbit hole before it got any deeper. None of it mattered anyway.

"Ye-Yeah," Casca murmured, "the mage-children are going to put on some kind of play. Apparently there's a festival coming up, and I was wondering if, maybe, perhaps, you would be interested in possibly-"

"Wasn't there a festival last week?" Guts asked out loud, unknowingly cutting off Casca's words. He was sure there was some big celebration when they first got there. He drank with Serpico and Roderick then. It was when Casca came back. Did they really throw a party whenever they had the chance? That Elf Queen definitely spoiled her people rotten. He groaned as memories of being forced to attend that ball with Casca after the Siege of Doldrey came back. Mainly of the suit he wore then. He hated that suit. "They're like a bunch of nobles using any excuse to party..."

"An-Anyway!" Casca yelled, her soft voice shifted back to the old commanding tone she used so many years ago. Guts jolted as he was pulled back to the conversation. Why was it so hard to focus on her? His head felt like it was swimming. Was it the armor? Probably, considering his luck. "If you want, we could..." Casca trailed off, her face as red as a tomato.

"Watch it together?" Guts finished for her. Why was she so shy about this? They were technically 'together'. Everyone knew about them, and they already had each other. Hell, they almost had a ki-Stop. Guts felt bile in his throat as he forced himself to stop his thoughts. He didn't want to think about him. He was gone, and there was no getting him back. Guts had no idea if Casca knew about it, but she never brought it up. She only really remembered the Eclipse, even then it was mere pieces. That was for the best. She shouldn't bear that weight. She couldn't bear it.

"Y-Yeah..." Casca said, a small, hopeful smile on her face. Guts wanted to leave, to avoid the temptation in front of him. His goal was right in front of him, yet he was paralyzed to his spot. Casca's blushed face enraptured him. He sighed a heavy, long sigh. The boat would still be there when he got back. Besides, it would be like a date. Him and Casca never got to do that before... everything happened. Guts never considered himself much of a romantic, but he went a long time without feeling something good. And thought it was small, simple, and sounded extremely stupid, it was something.

"Sure."


Guts and Casca found their seats in the middle of all the chaos. The outside stage was simple, a white sheet hung in the air while the wooden flooring jutted off the ground. Wooden chairs scattered about for the audience, all creaked and groaned as the crowd filled in. Centaurs, elves, adult witches and mages, Guts felt like an outsider as he saw the strange beings sit down in anticipation. Casca sat to his left, and her hand was wrapped around the metal monstrosity he called a left hand. Even though she had to have known that it was fake, her grip was tight. He saw her thumb roll over the metal digits of his artificial fist.

The sun slowly set, but it was steady pace. Where once it shined bright in the sky, the soft glow of the night came to replace it. Lanterns were put up and around, and bathed the stage in a mellow light. Guts had to swat a few elves off of his shoulders after they tried to use him as a spot to nap. Casca merely glared at him, as if she was upset that he forced the annoying bugs off of him. She would learn, in time.

"So what is this?" Guts asked as he watched the child mages get on stage. They were all small, and they bickered back and forth as they tried to get the performance started. Was it some kind of talent show? A play? It was odd to see children that only worried about a bad recital. Not being killed by raiders, eaten by demons, starved and raped by-No. He wasn't in Midland. Elfhelm was safe. They would be safe there. He didn't need to think about those things, not yet. Just for one night, he would enjoy himself.

"Apparently," Casca began before she placed her head against his armored shoulders, "the trainees have a project where they have to tell a story completely in magic. All visuals and no spoken words."

"Kind of a complex thing to throw on a kid," Guts grunted. Granted, he grew up killing people, so it was not like he was much to talk.

"It sounds exciting," Casca said, her eyes full of stars. Guts almost forgot that she wasn't used to magic yet. He was exposed to so much of the crap that it was practically mundane. But it would be the first time he saw it used for something so... useless. He saw it heal wounds, kill scores of creatures, shield them from ungodly horrors, and now it was used for a play? The irony almost made him laugh. "Oh, it's starting!"

A young boy, dressed with a mage's robe, and a witch's hat sat securely on his head. Despite his obvious nerves, he shook like a leaf in a storm, he cleared his throat as loud as he could to get the audience's attention. The crowd went quiet as they waited for the boy to begin.

"Th-Thank you, in-inhabitants of Elfhelm!" the boy began, almost shrieking his introduction. Despite the volume, it was clear the child had no idea how to make his words sound dramatic, and they came out as stilted and clunky, "we, the mage apprentices, would like to thank everyone for watching out-our"-the boy went red in the face at his mistake-"special performance tonight!" He waved his hand back to the ensemble behind him, other young girls and boys that were just as nervous as him. "We would like to tell you all a story of redemption and revenge! Of how love can save your soul, even when you have fully become a beast!"

"Were they assigned this, or...?" Guts asked as he stiffened in his chair. Strangely deep themes for a bunch of children.

"Shh!" Casca shushed Guts, her finger pressed against her lips, "it's starting."

And thus the show began. An inferno blazed high into the sky, the mage children all pointed their staves into the air as they shaped the fire into different forms. There was a massive wolf, at least from what Guts could tell. It hobbled in place, whimpers slipped from its fiery lips. Even with the loud cracks and pops from the flames, the creature sounded exactly like a dog. It raised its head high in the air and howled, its front, left paw kept curled up to its body.

The wolf hobbled, and hobbled, and hobbled. On it went, until the fire changed once again. It showed a young woman that sat outside of her small village home. The woman sang a song to herself, one that tasted bittersweet to the ears. Her voice was rich like honey. It was addicting, and Guts never wanted her song to stop. He had to admit, the kids did put on a performance.

As the feminine flame sang, the wolf appeared before her. Lured by her wondrous voice, the beast collapsed into her lap. The woman took pity upon the injured wolf, and she pet the animal's head while she continued her intoxicating song. As the song ended, the wolf fell asleep in her arms, content to lay with her until the end of time.

Time went on for the wolf and the woman. She cared for its wounds, and the wolf kept her company. Seasons changed, days sped by, and years seemed like mere minutes for the two. The woman was shy, and her new companion was more than enough to keep her happy through out the years. She would feed him, bathe him, walk him, and treated him like any other dog. As though he was a mere puppy instead of the beast he was.

The wolf was happy. For such a tiny fragment of his life, of his painful existence that was filled with so much sorrow, he truly felt alive. He wanted to thank the woman. The kind, beautiful soul that let him sleep at her feet. The wolf struggled to find a gift for her. He wanted to hunt something delicious, to prepare a grand feast for his master, but she would be sad if he killed something cute. He wanted to sing her a song, like the way she did, but she was annoyed anytime he was loud.

He struggled, day in and day out, to think of a way to make her happy. To repay her generosity, her unbelievable kindness, with something that would be just as good as the chance she gave him. It was then that the perfect gift came to mind. She didn't need any material good. No gesture that would be forgotten in a day. She needed something life changing. Something that would bring her the same happiness and warmth he was given.

Conviction strong in his heart, and the undying love of his master pushing him forward, the wolf prayed to the Gods. He begged them for the perfect gift for his lady. To revoke his savage nature as a beast and let him live as a man. To walk on two feet like her, and give her the love a human man could give her. He promised any price, to pass any challenge he was given. No matter what he needed to sacrifice of himself, the weight would be like a feather compared to giving his beloved master joy.

The Gods, kind and fair in their judgment, understood the wolf's plight. His dream was selfless, and the creature lived a life of hardship before the woman saved him. They would grant his request, but on one condition. The wolf could no longer kill. To truly sever his soul from his old life, he could not give in to his primal instincts. Not a single drop of blood would be spilled. The wolf agreed happily, and was granted his wish.

The man returned to his lady. It was just as he hoped, both fell madly in love with the other. They married, and had many children. A happy family that did not worry about the dangers of the outside world. The tiny, insignificant village they called home was all they needed. His price was simple, and the reward was pure perfection. The man was sure that he could live the rest of his days happily and in peace.

Then the soldiers came. The scene was pure carnage. Loved ones cut down in the blink of an eye, their happy home torn down and burned to ashes. It was as though they were mere dust being wiped away without a second thought. The man's life was destroyed, valuables stolen and land stripped of any hope for a future. But the only thing the man cared for was his woman. The woman that he loved so dearly, the one that showed him a life that he could truly call his own. She was dead. Killed in the raid, along with their children.

Sorrow and rage were all that filled the man. His heart was worse than shattered. It froze solid, hatred so cold that his spirit itself was overtaken. The man hunted, and he killed the soldiers that took everything from him. The Gods, as punishment for breaking his vow, took back their gift, and it was not long before he transformed back into the murderous animal he once was. Day after day of killing went on. An endless stream of soldiers met his fangs, and the wolf shifted into a monstrous beast. His jaws stretched, and more teeth filled his mouth. His claws grew, razor sharp talons of death that demanded more blood. Before long, it didn't matter who the humans he killed were.

The beast simply wanted blood. Hatred burned inside of him for so long that he truly became a demon. A monster that killed in a vain attempt to cure the agony in his heart. Memories of his happiness became cruel reminders of what was taken from him. He refused to think about those days, to sink further into his monstrous nature to avoid the misery that humanity brought him.

As the killing continued, the beast found himself outmatched. The humans prepared for him. Every battle became harder than the last, and the beast withered with each injury he sustained. Before long, he became a hobbling, crippled dog. The same pathetic state he was in when he met his love so long ago. Still, he refused to end the war. He needed to make the humans feel the same undying sorrow that he felt. Even if it killed him, he would make them suffer.

Until, he heard a sweet, familiar sound. The beast was sure it simply went mad, but he was sure that he heard the same song his wife sang, so long ago. He followed the noise, desperate to murder the impostor that mocked him with good memories. However, when he finally found the singer, the sight before him was beyond anything he could imagine.

It was a small girl, still just a child. But she wasn't just a village girl, it was his daughter. The youngest one, the only survivor of the raid on their lives so many years prior. She was just a mere infant when the soldiers came. She did not recognize him in the slightest, and looked frightened of the creature in front of her. He was sure they all died. That he was left alone to bear the weight of their deaths. But his only living child sat before him. The beast could not help itself, and it collapsed in her lap. Though she was hesitant, her hand slow and shaky, she pet the head of her father; like how her mother did when the wolf met her.

For the first time in a very long time, the wolf felt peace once again. It was a small gesture by the girl, barely anything she put real thought into, but it meant the world to the wolf. His daughter's song lulled the wolf to sleep as the fires finally cleared from the sky.

Guts was... well... pretty speechless. It was certainly a story, at least he could say that much. Sniffles caught his attention, and he turned to see Casca wipe away tears from her eyes. Now she cried at plays? Guts never really saw such a... soft side to Casca. She was a warrior, a deadly swordsman that could chop a man's head off in a single strike. The woman that sat next to him, her arms wrapped around his left, seemed like a different person entirely. Of course, it was not like he didn't change either.

"Please," Casca whispered, the sniffles gone but the tears still flowed unabated, "don't go. You don't need to go back."

Guts stiffened. He tightened his body, and became a statue. Every breath became shallow, and his heart raced in his chest. His fist clenched as he ground his teeth. How? How did she know?

"Who told you?" Guts asked, his voice low and cold. It had to have been Danaan. She told Casca about everything. About the armor, about the taint that flooded his veins, about how Guts wanted to finish what was started in that tornado. When Griffith took everything from him.

"So you really do want to run away again!?" Casca said, her voice strong and no longer hesitant. Any sign of the meekness she held earlier was gone, a scowl clear on her. She was so angry that smoke poured from her ears, her fist tight and ready to strike his chin. "How could you be so damned stupid!?"

"I need to go," Guts answered simply. His face did not move a muscle, even after Casca's balled up hand slammed hard against his nose. Blood dripped down, bit by bit, until the clean grass below them was stained red. Even after so long, her punch was still just as strong as the old days. Part of him wondered if she started training again. It would make sense, her muscles were visibly shrunken down compared to her old self. She looked more... womanly, he had to say.

"This is just like you," Casca spat and bolted up from her chair. Fury flooded her chest until she felt like her ribs were about to crack. "You get the one chance at happiness, a chance anyone would kill for, and you want to throw it all away! To just throw it away like a pebble! Why!? To go chasing after some impossible dream again!? Some idiotic crusade that'll just end up with you face down in some shallow grave!? Why are you such an idiot!?"

Her screams chased away any sound of the forest. Twigs stopped snapping, birds stopped chirping, the distant giggles of the children stopped. Guts looked around, and thankfully saw no eyes were on them. The crowd was dispersed, all hoped to mingle and celebrate at some party on the other side of the island, and now they were the stars of their own personal show. He didn't care. They wouldn't understand. It would be impossible to make them. What they saw... what they survived... it was something only they shared. Something that stained them, and changed them for the rest of their lives.

"You deserve to be happy," Guts muttered, only loud enough for her to hear. The rest didn't need to hear them airing their dirty laundry. He reached out, and grasped Casca's hand, before she yanked it away. He saw her body shake, like she was a leaf about to snap off of a tree. She all but seethed in rage. Even so, Guts rose to his feet, and rested his hands on her shoulders. "I need to finish this."

"No you don't," Casca hissed, and shook off Guts once again. Even with the anger in her heart, tears dripped down her cheeks. That strong front collapsed once again, as it always did around him. Just as quick as she pulled away from him, Casca wrapped around his armored chest. She punched his chest, any strength she once had melted away entirely as the pitiful smacks did not even register. "It's okay to just run away sometimes..."

"He needs to die," Guts growled, that dark temptation licked at his brain as he continued. The one that demanded more blood, to never let the killing end. He would give it what it wanted. He'd drown it in blood, if it meant they were all finally safe. "For the Hawks. For Judeau, Pippin, Corkus, Gaston, everybody. He doesn't get to walk away from what he did."

"They're dead, Guts!" Casca shrieked, her sobs now blatant. Those gorgeous eyes of hers were red, and she sniffled as she was wracked with that same shattering guilt he felt. That guilt that came when they remembered their comrades. When they asked why they were alive and they were gone. The same guilt that felt like a horrible nightmare they could never awake from. "What does killing Griffith solve!? They'll still be dead, and you're just gonna follow right behind them! He has an army, a kingdom, behind him! Revenge is some worthless excuse you want to use to run away again!"

"It's not revenge," Guts began, "it's something more than that. It took me a long time to figure this out. I chased revenge, for years. It took me to very bad places. Places so dark that I never thought I would see light again. So deep into the muck, and the shit, that I was sure that the stink would never wash off. But then," Guts looked around, to the paradise around them; the air so fresh that it was like a drink of water, "I let others in, they pulled me out of that muck. They... saved me. And the idea of him coming to take all that away again, and leave me alone to fall back into that pit they pulled me from..."

"And how do you think they would feel?" Casca asked as she pushed away from Guts. Her voice was unstable, like an old bridge that fell apart board by board. "That you would come so far just to run off and kill yourself for them? Did you even consider asking them to come with you? Or me?"

"You'll stay here," Guts ordered, his tone as stern as the look on his face. Casca's bubbling anger came right back, and she delivered another punch to his nose. He was sure it was broken, but he didn't care. She couldn't come with him. Bad things happened to her because of him. He needed to leave before some other horrible calamity barged its way in and hurt her.

"I'm not some delicate princess you got to save!" Casca barked, her teeth bared out like fangs as she shot venom at Guts. "If anyone has the right to kill Griffith, it's me. I was with everybody the longest, I led them when everything fell apart. You ran off to the mountains while I had to keep everybody alive! They were my family! I was with them ever since I was a girl," Casca could not hide the anguish in her voice as it cracked like glass. She collapsed to her knees as the pent up sorrow was unleashed. "I saw them all die! I was drenched in their blood, Judeau died to save me! We left Pippin to be eaten! Those... things touched me, and Griffith-!"

Casca screamed. That same horrid scream that she made when she saw Guts for the first time in years. After all the memories flooded back, and she remembered what was taken from her. Her friends. Her family. Her comrades, who would have gladly fought side by side with her in countless battles. Her dignity, when Griffith loomed over her with those red eyes. But the one thing that was taken from her that hurt the worst, the one thing that felt like her brain was rubbed with ground glass to think about, was her...

"Why did he take him from me...?" Casca whimpered pathetically. She was on all fours, her hands and knees pressed into the grass as she cried. Guts had bile creep in his throat as he sank in her words. As he watched her hand glide over her abdomen, and Casca fall to the earth completely. She did remember. She remembered that night. That abominable night. The one night that shattered his spirit, and made him feel like a hollow husk. Any rage he once held, any bitter anger, was drowned in sorrow. Guts placed his hand on Casca's head, his touch was gentle and careful.

"That's why," Guts said, his tongue frozen to stone in his mouth. He was able to force it to make the words he needed, but he would be lying if he said it was easy. Tears dripped from his good eye, even after he forced them to stay hidden. There was no way he could let his sadness out, to grieve along with Casca for their child. That wound was still fresh, and it would never heal. If he broke down now, his torment would keep him from ever getting back up. So instead, he bottled it up, and used it as fuel for hatred. "He took something irreplaceable from us, tried to throw us into Hell. So I'll crawl out of it and pull him into the deepest, darkest pit I can find."

With those words, Guts walked away from Casca. She barely got herself back together, and still sobbed without a care for who was watching. Just before Guts walked completely out of sight, he stopped dead in his tracks, and turned his head back to Casca.

"You said 'him,'" Guts began, all emotion empty in his voice, "you're sure he would have been a boy?"

"It was too early to tell," Casca had tremors in her throat as she spoke. Every thought about their baby burned her, like she pressed hot steel to her flesh. "I was only a few months along."

"I would have been happy with a daughter," Guts said simply, thoughts of a better life in his mind. Of a cabin in the middle of the woods, free of the coldness of the world; of a little girl that happily picked flowers with her mother, and a happy Casca that never worried about their child's safety; of a quiet life that was never stolen. "Her name would've been Shisu."

"Why 'Shisu?'" Casca could not stop herself from asking. She was sure that she heard that name somewhere before, but the thought escaped her. It was a strange one, though.

"Shisu was my mother," Guts answered, before he finally vanished from sight. There were only a few words Casca could hear before he was gone completely. Just one simple sentence that announced his departure. Five small words, said so simply.

"You would have liked her."