A/N Just gotta put up some warnings, because even though I gave them at the start of this fic, I might as well add more to this chapter cuz it's like a regular thing.
Warnings: child abuse, child neglect, attempted sexual assault, mentioned/implied pedophilia, violent ostracization
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It takes them more than a year to finish rebuilding their village—not that it actually matters much to Casca. It's hard to give a shit about anything when you're treated like crap.
Ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts
She wipes her eyes on the back of her sleeve, ignoring the emptiness she feels in her chest as she goes further and further into the forest. No one ever follows her here—they're too busy trying to avoid her.
Hatehatehatehatehatehate.
The life of a cursed child is anything but desirable. Where people speak her name with such distaste and act as though she isn't there (when she is). Where her own family has casted her aside from their living quarters, giving her a poorly made shack as means of shelter. They haven't fully disowned her, but they might as well with how often they ignore her.
She no longer eats with them, having been banned from family meals altogether. Nowadays, all she gets scraps. Occasionally, she'll get a meager piece of stale bread and bowl of thin broth. Sometimes, she's given cheese with her meal and very rarely, a slice of meat, though she never eats it—not when it's always full of maggots. She may be starving, but Casca still has her standards in what she'll force herself to eat.
I'm not taking chances with maggots.
Instead, she takes advantage of the opportunity that she's given and uses them as bait to catch fish in the forest. She'd like to say that she's no longer as hungry as she was before, but that would be a lie. Without any proper fishing equipment, there's only so much fish that she can catch at a time before her makeshift line snaps.
Through trial and error, she's figured out how to make her own fishing line. It's not an easy task, especially with how limited Casca is with her resources. It takes her a few days to make a new line out of sewing thread, due to how much extra care she needs to take to reinforce its strength. She is never without sewing thread, as she is expected to mend her own clothing. So long as she takes care to avoid any serious tears in her clothing, then she can set aside enough thread for her fishing line.
Casca still starves every so often, but not to the same extent as before.
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A part of me feels so guilty for keeping everything to myself. A part of me also doesn't give a shit. The one time I tried sharing with some of the children, I got scolded by their parents and the rest of the adults. Since then, I've had rocks and rotten food thrown in my direction from those very same children that I've tried to help.
I don't want to blame them. I really don't, since it's the adults that keep feeding them crap about me.
Just worry about yourself—it's not worth it.
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It's not long after that the village begins plowing the fields in an attempt to grow some crops. Sometimes, they're successful, but it's never enough to make a difference. It's what motivates Casca to sneak out in the dead of night to dig up some of the seeds that have been planted. It's not like anyone will notice, with how barren the land is…
Little by little, Casca collects the seeds into a little bag. She keeps at it, despite the villagers blaming her for something that she was only somewhat at fault for.
It's not my fault that the land is so barren…
It takes her months to fill the bag, which she takes into the forest with her. She goes further and further until she finds the clearing where she first met the Skull Knight. The remains of the creatures that have tried to kill her have made the soil rather fertile, encouraging the growth of much greenery that wasn't there previously. She has since discarded the bones that were left over, throwing them into the river for good measure.
It doesn't do much, but it does make Casca feel a lot less hesitant to make use of the land to experiment. It takes her a month to till the ground, using only a bowl and her bare hands. Often, she cracks her nails on the rocks she has to dig out of the ground by hand, not wanting to cause any damage to her bowl.
She catches a lot more fish, no longer worrying about what goes to waste. What she can't eat, she buries in the ground where she plants the seeds. Every few days, she waters the field, making multiple trips to and from the river to transport the water in a bowl. It's usually night by the time that she finishes. The soft glow of the stones from her anklet illuminates her path as she makes her way through the dark forest.
She considers it a blessing that no one ever asks about her whereabouts. If they knew what she was up to, she's quite certain that it'll only fuel their ill-conceived beliefs. Knowing them, they'll blame her for robbing them of their success.
They already blame me for every fucking thing that happens to them…
Young mothers blame Casca for the stillborns and miscarriages that they've had, despite the fact that the likely cause was the lack of proper nutrition—a common occurrence in a village where people often die of starvation. Whenever something breaks, Casca hears her name being muttered like a curse.
Someone's horse just died? It's Casca's fault.
The crops are suffering? Also Casca's fault.
She seduced someone's husband? Okay, that one was slightly her fault—but only because she took someone's eye out. Everything else was entirely that man's fault for even daring to try such a despicable deed on a young girl. Not that it matters much, since everyone's taken to blaming the victim and ignoring the fact that a fucking pedophile got off the hook.
Should've sliced his dick off instead…
The rock was sharp enough take his eye out—so she could've done it. And she actually does, when someone else tries to take his chances on her. This time, it was a boy in his late teens—still so inexperienced yet lacking in decency. She hopes that he asks himself if it was worth it, each day that he wakes up, knowing that he'll never have children because of her…
Casca is left alone after that, though that doesn't stop her from always keeping a sharp rock in her pocket. She never knows when someone else will decide to take their chances, despite her track record of maiming those who even so much as touch her. It doesn't help her much when a man who is caught molesting the village children proclaims that he only does it because of her.
She gets the shit beaten out of her as a result. She walks with a limp for the next few days, staying out of sight in the forest until her injuries are completely healed. She considers herself fortunate to have avoided any serious injuries. It still hurts, but she can handle it…
I hope…
Casca spends more and more time in the forest after that, having noticed how fast her injuries have been healing. It frightens her at first, but then she recalls the anklet that she's been given and calls it a day. An accelerated healing factor isn't that farfetched when she considers that the anklet's purpose was to keep her safe. Though, it isn't exactly something that she can let anyone else know about… The last thing she needs is for people to start calling her a witch, which is an actual concern that she now has.
What fun…
And yet, as the days go by, Casca starts to wonder. She knows that witches exist and from what she recalls reading, sorcery is usually taught from an early age.
"This is because the older people get, the more they become tied to the material world."
"And it is very hard to break those bonds…" Casca murmurs to herself as she uproots an especially stubborn weed from her garden. "I wonder…"
What does that make me?
Casca can only wonder as she throws the uprooted weed over her shoulder. Nothing will ever change the fact that she is not formerly from this world, being a reincarnated soul that took over the body of an infant that should have not survived.
I shouldn't be alive.
But she is.
Would she have survived?
Casca doesn't know…she probably won't ever know. That is a fact that she will have to live with for the rest of her (second) life.
Assuming I even live that long…
She sighs, taking a moment to wipe the sweat off her brow. She scans the garden, keeping a careful eye out for any weeds that she might have missed. When she sees that there aren't any left, she decides to take a much-needed break. She sits down, a smile crossing her face as she takes in the sight of her garden. It's not much, but it's something… She's certainly doing better than her village.
And that's a fact.
Casca is almost seven years old now. She has succeeded where her village has failed and despite their efforts to keep her down, she still manages to thrive—much like the weeds she continuously has to uproot.
"Maybe I am a cursed child." A sardonic smile tugs at her lips, laughter soon bubbling in her throat as she reconsiders the impact that her existence has had. "I guess I got nothing to lose, huh?"
What were those basics again…?
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The first step in becoming a magic user is a fundamental exercise of "thought drawing a concrete phenomenon in your mind."
I got to draw it in my head…
Casca stares at the anklet she wears, memorizing every detail that she can see as she draws it in the dirt. She keeps at it for a full three days, stopping only after realizing the limitations of using only a stick and dirt. That's when she starts looking through the forest for plants, berries, and flowers that leave a colorful residue of any kind. She then collects the strips of bark that have been falling off some trees and starts to experiment.
Using a small knife that she's stolen, Casca cuts off clumps of her hair in various sizes and gets to work. She makes a couple of paintbrushes and tests out the "inks" she has made out of the plants, flowers, and berries she had crushed. By the end of the week, Casca has gone back to drawing her anklet. She has made incredible progress, but it still isn't enough for her until she can draw her anklet completely from memory.
Just keep at it…
Just keep at it.
The days turn into weeks, which soon turn into months. Casca is now seven years old when she can draw her anklet from memory. Her hair is as uneven as can be, from the various clumps that she's cut off in order to make more brushes. Her clothes are stained with the ink that she's made, which has earned her a few stares from her family as they tried to figure out what it is that Casca does when she is completely out of sight.
Casca waits a few more days, in which she continues to draw her anklet from memory, before she considers herself ready. That afternoon, while the sun was shining brightly in the sky, Casca stares at her anklet. She burns its image into her mind, as she has done many times before. Slowly, she closes her eyes and within the darkness of her mind, she begins to draw the image of the anklet that she has dedicated so much time to memorizing. From its shape to its color to all the details that one wouldn't normally care about, Casca draws it all.
It's a fuzzy image at first, the way the color almost blends with each other. Slowly, it grows clearer and clearer. As the days go by, Casca begins to see a distinct shape. It still isn't enough, but it's most definitely a start.
With each passing day, while the sun is shining most brightly, Casca continues with this exercise of hers. A few times, she manages to fall asleep without meaning to, having been locked into such deep concentration. Often, it's while she's in the forest, where no one can bother her.
On her way back from such an occurrence, Casca finds herself being unable to return home out while the village is throwing its seasonal festival. It's the first festival that they've thrown in years and the last thing they want is the cursed child ruining their festivities—or so she's been told. There is very little room for her to react at all before a bucket of feces is thrown at her.
It's the last straw—really, it is. She stands deathly still, her eyes as wide as can be as she just stares at the people around her. Anger bubbles up in the pit of her stomach, burning intensely as tears prick her eyes. The smell is horrendous, causing her to retch violently once she's no longer immobilized by shock. The villagers point and laugh at her, caring not for the logic of blaming an innocent child for all their misfortunes.
What did I ever do to deserve this?
She hears them cheering when she leaves, unable to handle the strain of emotions that she feels within their presence. She hates them so much.
Hate, hate, hate, hate.
She hates everything about them. She hates how they all latched so easily onto the idea that she was to blame for everything—because they were perfectly fine with accepting things as they happened, no matter how bad they were. That's how life was before she was made the village scapegoat…which is yet another thing that she hates about them.
She knows that it isn't their fault (mostly), but it still bothers her so much because they don't even try. They just stick to their usual routines and continue living through a repetitive cycle of misery. That's why nothing ever changes—why everything stays the same.
If they could just let her help…then maybe she could make a difference.
Maybe…
Deep down, she knows it's a lost cause. But she still thinks about it nonetheless—it makes her feel better when she is feeling especially vindictive. Because for once, it's their fault—not hers—for everything bad that has happened so far.
Karma is a bitch.
All things considered, if she was as cursed as they make her out to be, then the last thing anyone should be doing is mistreating her.
But what do I know?
She's just a child who shouldn't have lived as long as she has—a weed that just won't die. And that's all she'll ever be to them…
Just five more years…
"Just…five more years," Casca tells herself as she bathes in the river. She tries her hardest not to throw up, tries not to cry when she does. She sobs loudly, her voice falling on deaf ears as it echoes throughout the forest.
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Casca burns her clothes when she is unsuccessful in washing out the stains. She knows better than to waste the clothing that she receives, at it isn't much to begin with, but she just…can't push herself to care. She sits by the fire, dressed only in a worn-out chemise that she's taken from one of her sisters when they weren't looking. The size is massive on her small frame, but she doesn't care—it's better than being naked, after all.
She stays out of sight for the next few days, refusing to leave the forest until she's fucking sure that the festival is over. To pass the time, she continues with her thought-drawing exercises. By now, Casca can see a distinct shape—far better than it has ever been before. It leaves her feeling elated, adding an extra bounce to her step as she carefully makes her way back home.
She's a lot more careful this time, using the light of the moon to her advantage in order to sneak into the village. She goes undetected as she gathers her belongings and a few other things that aren't necessarily hers…but what does she care? She's too busy enjoying the food that she's taken from the table.
It's recently made, still somewhat warm and of a palatable consistency that is easy on her stomach. She savors each bite, chewing slowly as she makes her way back into the forest. She goes to sleep with a full stomach, with enough food leftover to last her maybe a couple of days. She sleeps peacefully on a bed that she's made out of the clothes that she had stolen, dreaming of a life far better than this.
When she wakes, the first thing she notices is singing.
"Kuwata tsunovalai,
Tsurizhei, furaligai.
Quonduvait unbufertn blonuwail,
Shrtetei shigiyiado…"
Slowly, she sits up, her eyes focusing blurrily on a fair-skinned young woman with thick, wavy hair. Her hair is a peculiar shade of maroon, standing out considerably to Casca after growing so used to the sight of darkly-colored hair. She stands out even more when Casca notices her aqua-colored eyes.
The young woman is dressed modestly in loose clothing, with pants that are the color of her hair, dark gray sleeves that cover her arms, and a white shirt of some sort that drapes over her torso. She sits on a tree root, completely unaware of Casca as she continues to sing in a language that she does not know.
Pretty…
Casca remains silent, not wanting to interrupt the young woman as she continued to sing. It takes her almost three minutes to work up the nerve to call out to her.
"H-Hello?" she says in a nervous and hesitant tone.
The young woman stops singing almost immediately, her head turning towards the hollow hole in the base of the tree. A smile forms on her lips as she catches sight of Casca, causing her face to heat up with a blush.
"Hello!" the young woman greets her. "Did I wake you?"
Casca swallows hard, feeling somewhat uneasy over the fact that the young woman had been aware of her presence. She was supposed to have been out of sight, after all…
"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're worried about," she reassures Casca, having noticed her uneasiness almost immediately. "Are you hungry?"
Growl.
Casca's face turns a dark shade of red when she hears the young woman laugh.
"I'll take that as a yes!" She smiles brightly as she pats the space right next to her, motioning at Casca to join her. "I'm Devola."
"C-Casca…" Casca replies somewhat shyly as she crawls out from the hole in the base of the tree. She sits next to Devola, who wastes no time in starting a conversation with her. And so, for the first time in two years, Casca finds herself having a friendly chat with a complete stranger.
It's…nice. Part of her craves the positive attention, having gone so long without it. She doesn't even care that Devola is treating her like a child, because it's far better than what she's used to. Half-way into their conversation, Devola stops her, having noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Are you okay?" she asks, frowning.
Casca almost wants to lie, because it's what she's used to doing. Except, when she opens her mouth, all that comes out is a choked sob. And so Devola wraps an arm around her, whispering soothing words to Casca as she starts to cry.
By the time that Casca stops crying, another woman shows up with an arm full of sticks. She looks exactly like Devola, differing only in how much neater her hair looks. She's a lot more composed compared to Devola, who is definitely the more outgoing of the two.
"I'm Popola," she introduces herself. "Do you know where Flora is?"
Casca furrows her brow. Why…Why would she expect her to know that? "Who?"
"Oh, sorry—we've been following Flora's magic since it was in the area," Devola explains. "We're travelers and it's not often that we come across other witches, so we just wanted to have a chat."
"I'm guessing that that's the source of her magic we've been following, right?" Popola points at the anklet that Casca is wearing.
"Hmm…" Devola looks closely at Casca's anklet. "Looks like a protective charm—but that's definitely Flora's magic."
"I-If you say so…" It's honestly too much for Casca to process all at once as she tries to keep up with Popola and Devola's conversation. That's when it suddenly hits her… "You're witches?!"
"Oh—we won't hurt you!" Devola is quick to say. "We're not like what the rumors say, okay?"
"O-Okay…" Casca knows a lot more than she lets on, but for her sake, she continues to play dumb. "So Flora is the one who made this anklet?"
"Did she not give it to you?" Popola tilts her head to the side.
"No—the Skull Knight gave it to me." It's been almost two years now since she had last seen him… "Do you know of him?"
Growl.
And just like that, Casca's stomach picks the best time to make her hunger known. Like before, Devola laughs.
"I think we should wait until we've had breakfast," Popola says as she promptly drops the armload of sticks onto the ground. "Are you fine with that?"
Casca nods her head, unable to find the right words to say. She can't keep herself from smiling—she's just so happy, to have someone to talk to. To be able to eat with someone who doesn't outright ignore her… To be treated like a human being.
Casca finds herself crying a second time as she's served a bowl of porridge. She's just so happy, that she just can't stop…
Five more years…
Just five more years…
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A/N Heyo, Noa's back with another chapter and I've been off to a great fucking start with NaNoWriMo, like god DAMN IT. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter, because this is pretty much the start of what Casica is doing to prepare for the future. Spot the references, too, because they're there!
I usually make it a thing with every fic I write, so that's a thing. But yeah, if anyone is still wondering, we're on the path to witch!Casca, so that's something.
And so now that we've had enough reviews to hit 10…it's time for some shout-outs!
Reviewer #10: Bloody-Asphode11
Reviewer #11: No Idea What to Name This
Honorable mentions: AscendedHumanity, juanpablobro (someone had to do it and fuck the 2016 anime), A Game of Fate (it'd be a cold, cold day in hell before I let this fic die), AltenativeFutureFan27 (I have you to blame for my spacebattles postings and soon, sufficient velocity), UseFistNotMouth, DannyPhantom619
Thank you all so much for taking the time to review! Please do take the time to continue giving feedback, I'd appreciate it! It's always kept me motivated to keep on writing!
Anyways, that's all I have for now. I'm just getting ready to eat some good food today, so I hope y'all have a good day in which we feast on a turkey and other stuff. Until next time, KD out! XD