Flickering illuminations of blue light danced across the dark enclosed room. The sizzling of electricity and steel tempoed with the rhythmic breathing of its wielder. The astringent smell of flux graced the air as two segments became one. With patience, the light flashed on only to be cut short, then to repeat as the accompanying shadows watched on. The harsh heat and uncomfortable tediousness of his craft paid no mind to its wielder. What was just another creation to one was a dear extension of himself unto the world in his eyes.
And so the young man had completed another day in his life. The age of sixteen had come and with it the dreadful symptom of habit. He would awake, groom himself, self-study, then train, assist his parents and whatever daylight was left went to his self-declared 'craft'. Despite the remaining daylight, the boy would sequester himself away in his dark self-made workshop, consisting of hand-me-down equipment from his parents and kind donors in the community. He was the locally known prodigy of his two parents who held management jobs within the government of Vale.
It was here in this workshop he felt happiest, at home. It was also here he would sometimes awake in the morning to repeat his day, realizing he had fallen asleep at work, nearly burning his face with his machinery at times. As he lay into his work for the night a sliver of light protruded into his room.
"Dinner time Rai" came a feminine voice.
Stopping his work, the young man lifted his visor. "Mom, I said stop with the nickname, I'll be down in a moment" Replied the boy.
With a chuckle, the mother slowly closed the door. "You better hurry Rai, it's your favorite~."
With a sigh, the boy continued to finish his weld before taking off his gear. Cleaning himself up he left the darkness of his workplace and entered his family's brightly lit home.
Their humble home housed only him, his mother, and his father. Raiden Gorm never felt much discomfort in his life being an only child and his parents always being gainfully employed. It was tonight however, that was a rare sight. He knew both his parents loved him but he could hardly recall many times in his life that he saw both of them on the same day and yet this past week they had shared dinner together each night.
Just like his parents he was praised for his intellect and was no fool. He knew it was because his mother was trying to convince him to not attend Beacon. His father probably felt the same as he would cast concerned silent glances at dinner. It was clear how he felt, although conflicted he still wished for his son to be happy before successful. The recollection of the past few nights' conversations brought about bitter thoughts as he descended his stairs with slow, quiet footsteps. It was their inattentiveness that led him to apply, pass, and receive an invitation notice from Beacon all before they even knew what his future career choice was.
It was almost pitifully funny when his mother found the mail and went into a frightened frenzy. She implored him all day as to why he would do this behind their backs and not speak to them. All before leaving for work and saying that his father would hear of it and continue where she left off. He didn't return for another thirty-seven hours and then asked him simple questions. Despite the deep bags under his eyes and the clear signs of exhaustion, he listened attentively, hardly speaking himself.
To Raiden, the silence from his father was far worse than the betrayal in his mother's eyes. Yet when he had explained himself his father had simply nodded and stood up, showered, and went to sleep. That was a month ago and his mother had orchestrated this week together before he departed to Vale.
'Just one more night of explaining myself and then I'm off to a new life, one of purpose' he assured himself, taking a breath before entering the kitchen.
His father sat in comfortable clothing as his mother flittered between the stovetop and table laying out the fresh dishes. It wasn't a coincidence they were all his favorites as if she was subtly saying that he would be missing out if he left.
With a welcoming grin from his mother and a glance from his father, he took a seat at the circular table. The three said grace, a tradition that had been in many families around remnant since long-forgotten days. He didn't know why they continued them himself but his parent's insisted, and so he continued tradition as well.
The food was sublime, to say the least. His mother was an engineer but she had not slackened her feminine skills in the slightest, always fashionable, prim, proper, and a wondrous cook. It didn't do her justice to say she was just an engineer, however. To be more precise, she was the engineer. Electrical, computer, aerospace, chemical, biomedical, you name it she could probably manage it. It was this large repertoire that led her to be a large asset to any nation she lent her abilities.
His father on the other hand was more of the wildcard, a mad scientist of sorts. He had multiple inventions and projects ongoing at the same time, many of which would fail. But for every hundred failures, he had a golden egg that would more than makeup for it.
It was this power duo that Raiden called his parents. It was within their shadow he had gained such technical skill with tools and engineering. And it was this exact shadow that led him to wish to be different. A cozy job within a large corporation or assisting his father with inventing, anything handed to him on a silver platter soured his palette. Instead, a passing glimpse caught his eye one day in middle school.
A small band of hunters had passed through his town on a mission. It wasn't the shiny weapons, tactical gear, flashy appearance, or even the amazing semblances. It was the scars that the leader bore and told him about before leaving. It lit a fire to help others within the young boy. One that he harbored in secret for years until the right time. It was tricky to unlock his aura, and even more so to train with a weapon without his parents learning of it in some way. Despite the injuries and aversion to speaking of himself, he had come this far. Now he just had to deal with "breaking his poor mother's heart" as she put it.
The conversation went as expected, why's, what-ifs, and questioning just what his plan was if he were to be hurt. As he went to take another bite of food, the tone shifted.
"What if I get you a job working under me in the government of Vale? Then you could help others and make a difference"
Raiden feared looking up from his plate, hearing the restrained tears behind his mother's words.
His eyes gave in and raised just enough to see her teary eyes and trembling lip. Gripping his utensils tightly, guilt consumed him. He didn't wish to spit on her concern or generosity yet the life it offered was not what he sought. What he wanted, what he needed was-
"That's enough dear," said his father. Both wife and son turned to him in surprise. Glancing between the two of them he nodded to Raiden reassuringly and turned to his wife.
"A man with a purpose will do anything to achieve it. You know better than anyone that my parents wanted me to be a civil servant like my father. But I kept inventing and made my life my own. That's how I met you". He extended a hand over his wife's, which was grasping the tablecloth bitterly in a tremble.
Addressing his son once more he nodded. "Do what makes you happy son but be aware of the consequences and those you'll hurt if you don't return. Now tell us clearly what you want".
Teary-eyed, Raiden stood from his seat. "Mom, Dad, I-!"
It was a short declaration yet passionate nonetheless. His intentions were pure, almost ignorant, if not innocent. It was with this, the root of their worry was uprooted by their adoration for their son. With a solemn nod from the father and a sulky acceptance from his mother. Raiden joyously dug back into his meal.
The rest of the night the mother was inseparable from her son, lounging around, cleaning, preparing for sleep. It was only when he bathed did the father stop watching with soft eyes and separated her. Once he was dried off she clung to him once more in a sob and even dragged him to sleep in the same bed as if he were a child.
The morning was no better. Groggily waking, Raiden saw his mother's intent stare before being dragged out of bed to make breakfast and eat their last meal together. He assured her repeatedly as she cried into their meals. As his father looked for his portion to no avail, Raidens mother voiced her worries.
"Isn't it too dangerous for a young boy like you to be fighting Grimm?!"
"I'll be going to school to learn how to fight them, Mom. I won't seek trouble, promise"
"What if you dont make friends or get bullied?!"
He chuckled nervously at the prospect "I'll do everything I can to avoid that and make you two proud"
"But most of all… we'll see you even less than we already do."
The food in his throat caught. Choking for a moment he coughed a response. "I promise I'll call. Just be sure to pick up from now on" he laughed.
His father sipped his coffee, proud of his answers as his mother sniffed. "Our baby's grown up" she muttered as her husband lovingly embraced her.
"It was bound to happen dear."
With his worries and parents assured, his departure felt a little lackluster from what he had expected. What he thought would have been shouting and accusations of ungratefulness as he scurried out the door to rush to the station were no more than the previous week's worries.
Instead, his parents dressed the best he had ever seen them albeit that wasn't too high of a bar. Messy labcoats and loosened ties or slackened dress shirts were replaced by a fitting dress on his mother and a vest with slacks on his father.
Though not extravagant Raiden did feel horribly embarrassed as they left the car and eyes turned onto them. His parents were well known in the town and here they both were in nice clothes with their son who was lugging around a duffel bag of clothes and a large metallic-looking box.
The fact that the town was small enough that he knew each name of the workers and visitors at the Bullhead station exacerbated his embarrassment.
To his dismay, it was even worse inside. Past the front doors, a small gathering of approximately 50 people surprised them. Red from ear to ear, Raiden looked to his mother for an answer. She was caught up in sharing her grief with the crowd so Raiden turned to his father.
"She may have forced me to contact whoever was available in town for a send-off party" he explained with a chuckle.
Fumbling with his baggage, Raiden fought to hide his embarrassment while juggling questions from those he had known all his life.
"A huntsman? I'd never have taken ya for one!" Laughed Mr. Serkov, the butcher, heartily.
"I thought we were going to school together!" Complained a set of young siblings he would watch from time to time.
"He has wisdom and patience for his age, he'll surely grow into a great warrior"
"He couldn't even hold a bow correctly Dad" lamented the local hunters, a father and daughter.
Praise and questions were heaped on until for the first time anyone in the town could think of, the reserved young man was red ear to ear. With laughter and gifts of food and sweets and slight flirtation from a girl or two his age, the farewell party departed before him. The town had to keep running after all.
Patiently they waited without a word as the screen displayed just when the bullhead intended for Vale would arrive and their departure begins. Raiden would have felt excited if his mother hadn't been clinging to his arm in a quiet sob throughout each minute they sat.
Trying to calm himself he checked his belongings. Bag, clothes, maintenance tools, combat equipment, and the few morsels of gifts he could afford to bring along with him. And with a proud look, he turned to the metallic case. Opening it slightly, revealed a large blade head with a bright blue highlight on the edge face.
It was the culmination of his efforts. Perhaps a little lower budget than he'd like but hand made and most importantly, it worked. Not field tested but it cut, fired, and it was only for him.
He then heard a whistle next to his ear. Glancing side to side he saw his father showing an impressed face and his mother nodding approval through tears.
"Fine work there son, not bad for a first draft".
Stifling another sob his mother joined in. "T-that's our boy but we could've worked on it together".
"Would you? If you knew about his plan any earlier would you really help him along?" Asked his father disbelieving.
"No!" His wife answered matter of factly.
Raiden chuckled at the exchange. If he could have seen this kind of interaction more then perhaps he wouldn't have been so gung-ho to leave when he was younger. He was too far committed now and excitement he had never felt before was beginning to brew within him. An adventure, his adventure, was about to begin.
Finally, the bullhead arrived and with a firm grip, his father peeled his mother off his arm. Thankfully, for his remaining pride, the bullhead was empty aside from its operators. With a glance at his parents and an exchange of nods and waves. The bullhead took its lone passenger.
With this, he had officially begun the start of being a man, of controlling his own life. A faint buzzing came from his scroll.
Opening it his mother's teary eyes and his father's lackadaisical expression appeared on the screen.
"Are you homesick yet?! You're coming back for the holidays right?!" with an uneasy grin, Raiden hoped that when his parent's work picked back up that there wouldn't be too many of these calls.
-Chapter End-
