There should have been separation; that would have been ideal.
A nice, clean dividing line...between Dirk (son of Mythra, son of Rex; child of the Aegis and the Master Driver) and D (a Consul; a Moebius; a wretched and sadistic serial killer).
Yet...even in the midst of a dreamless sleep, there were echoes.
("Bright Edge!" exclaimed Dirk, his Brightfire Spears creating a globe of bright ether that burst into a wave of smaller spears.)
("Dread Edge," snarled D, his Blackblaze Spears forming a miasmic sphere of blackened malice, bursting into sharp spikes that impaled without mercy.)
("Glowing Rush!" yelled Dirk, lashing out with his bright lances in a fisticuff combination, following up with a powerful sidekick.)
("Grim Rush." D punched multiple times downward, before kicking upward viciously against his enemy's chin.)
("Burning Arch!" Dirk dashed forward, creating a path of glowing fire along the ground in his wake.)
("Chaos Arch," D growled, slashing out with his spears as he charged throughhis opponents, knocking them aside.)
("Unstoppable Spear!" Dirk dramatically aimed with his arms, firing twin spears that burned with an almost heavenly fire.)
("Unstoppable Spear." D condescendingly took aim with one arm, launching a spear that seared the ground with a dark, almost sickly fire.)
(In the prior instances, it was either Dad or Mother who took the brunt of Dirk's attacks, using their superior power to parry or snuff out his blows. Yet there was undeniable pride on their faces, as they trained him to master his powers.)
(In every other one...D strode among countless battlefields against faceless enemies, who were little more than fodder to be cut down.)
Dirk. D.
Where did one end, and the other begin?
"You really want to know?" said a cocky voice from nowhere and everywhere. "What would you find more upsetting? The thought that there's a definite point where
youstop, and I take over? Or...maybe you'd be more terrified by the idea there is no cutoff...that I am you, and you are me? That, in truth...there is no difference?"
Everything began to fade away, overwhelmed by a spring shower...
"Hah! Coward." The voice nonetheless continued to follow him. "What a loser."
xxxx
Dirk opened his eyes with a start, briefly wondering where he was. White fur. Stripes. The scent of cold rain...Dromarch. An aborted nightmare, chased away by familiarity. Right. I'm in my room. Slowly, he sat up; in the corner of his vision, he saw Dromarch's ears briefly twitch (the fluffy lunk was already awake, most likely); meanwhile, at the foot of his bed, a familiar head of blonde hair could be seen. "Mother," he whispered; the woman had fallen asleep on the floor, doubtless having kept a vigil in the waning hours of night.
(Was she defenseless? Was she on alert for possible sneak attacks?)
(Curious that you think that way; is life a constant battlefield, now? Better start acting like it.)
Dirk resisted the urge to hiss, pressing his palms against his eyes. Focus. Focus. The pressure provided a sense of constraint. I'm me. I'm the son of Rex and Mythra. Everyone's always known me as one of the children of the Aegis and the Master Driver. I can't let 'em down. I can't. I won't. Tiredly, he reached over towards his mother's head. "Hey. You're gonna mess up your hair, sitting like that."
"...mrghble..." sleepily grumbled Mythra.
"...well, if it's not that big of a deal, I guess you won't mind then," he said with a cheeky grin, preparing to mess up her hair with a noogie.
"You'd better not," growled Mother, hackles immediately rising. Her golden eyes narrowed with righteous maternal anger.
"My hands are clean," he remarked, holding his hands up in a mock surrender.
Mythra's glare softened, replaced by a relieved smile. "You've got your father's grin, you know? Don't know if I've ever told you that before."
"Eh, lots of people tell me I've got my dad's face." Mythra's hair and Core Crystal were part of his inherited traits; the red eyes had always been an outlier given the golden eyes of both of his parents. (Dad had always joked that his eyes were a memento of whoever his parents had been, since he otherwise had no recollection of what his mother and father had looked like.)
(Everyone had always loved him so much that he had never really questioned it; the Core Crystal in his chest had been proof enough, besides.)
(Now you can't help but notice all of the things that could make you different.)
"Well, I wanted to tell you anyway." She reached over, quietly embracing him from the side. "You're still my boy."
Dirk normally would have pushed away by now; that impulse warred with the temptation to simply enjoy the moment. Mother says I'm hers. I look like Dad. I'm me. I'm still me. "Yeah, I know. Don't have to rub it in." Yawning widely, he then asked, "So...what did you all talk about, after I conked out?"
Mythra sighed, an expression of tired frustration ghosting across her face. "...well...let's just say...your sister Mio has remembered that other world. Like...a lot of it."
He didn't like the sense of foreboding those words carried. "...well, might as well grab the Ardun by the horns."
xxxx
Mio had been...dealing with quite a few feelings since yesterday.
Okay, a lot of feelings. Processing them should have been relatively easy for someone with her experience...but a young teenager without a soldier's conditioning was, to no one's shock, relatively lacking in self-control.
(Little wonder that she and Noah had always been drawn to each other; for all the ways they complemented each other, they were downright hopeless at certain things. Why would that be any different outside Aionios?)
But still; the sheer shock — of Interlinking with Noah in all but name; of remembering Aionios, in all of its pains and sorrows, with the joys sprinkled in-between; of looking at the face of Moebius D, and impulsively recoiling — had forced her to be introspective. Even as she and Noah had quietly explained a great deal of their experiences in Aionios the prior night (with Nia providing some supporting details here and there), her mind had nonetheless drawn back...because she wasn't just Mio, soldier of Agnus, host of M's memories; she was also Mio, daughter of Nia and Rex.
The sister of Glimmer...and Diederik.
Dirk's sister.
The thought seemed so very outlandish...
xxxx
It had been about a year ago: Mum had been tied up with negotiations at Echell Palace, smack dab on the boundary line between New Elysium's provinces of Gormott and Leftheria; Mom and Mother had been tied up with disciplinary matters at the school they jointly administered; Dad had been called out for an emergency mission by his subordinate Zuo, taking Wulfric and Roc as backup; as such, it had just been the Sibling Trio at home, with Dromarch to play chaperone.
Naturally, peace didn't last long.
"So...how long are you grounded?" asked Dirk with a smarmy grin.
Mio rolled her eyes. "Come on brother, I'm not in the mood..."
"To be fair, you don't normally daydream in class," observed Glimmer, idly tuning an acoustic guitar all the while. "Even Mom looked surprised when she called you out."
Mio's ears flattened. "Please, don't remind me," she whined.
Dirk, flashing his teeth, suddenly gestured with the sort of drama that Uncle Zeke would've been proud of. "Ah, but isn't it obvious? Our oh-so serious sister has caught the love bug. More passionate than a Gogol in mating season!"
Mio and Glimmer impulsively cringed at the mental imagery. "Like, ew, bro. You're not supposed to talk like that around ladies!" protested Glimmer.
"Don't see any ladies around here," he smugly said, eyes glinting with jocularity. "Just a pair of girlies." (There was a hitch in his voice when he said that. She hadn't caught it then...but now, it somehow stood out.)
Mio puffed out her cheeks. "You'd better not be talking about us like this around the other boys at school."
"Hah! Like those sods would talk nasty about you two when I'm in hearing distance. They know better." Puffing up his chest with pride, he added, "After all, I've trained them to be gentlemen."
Glimmer rolled her eyes; whether or not it was a joke, the two sisters took it as a clumsy peace offering. "If you're training boys how to be gentlemen, then we're doomed."
Dirk huffed, a flash of something (but what?) crossing his face before he masked it with another grin. "But enough about me! We're still talking about the boy of Mio's dreams. Day or night, his long black hair haunts her vision, like some two-bit ghost!"
"Come on, you-" Mio suddenly halted, ears twitching with agitation. "Wait." Eyes narrowed with suspicion. "How do you know he's got black hair?"
"The doodles in your diary, of course," he nonchalantly remarked with a knowing grin.
"...you..." The betrayal! The utter outrage! "You looked into my diary?!" she shrieked. "That breaks rule three of the Sibling Code! 'Never peek into your sibling's private affairs without asking permission!'"
"Eh, Clause Five of the Sibling Code means that we can break the rules if delegated the authority to do so by one of our parents," Dirk retorted.
Mio threw up her hands. "Which parent would give you permission to look in my diary?!"
"Implicit delegation is a thing! Dad would want to know about any boy you're having fantasies about, if only so he can threaten 'em. I'm just being proactive!" The fact he sounded like such a smart-aleck only added to the irritation.
"Dirk..." growled Mio, fighting the urge to go grab the training variant of her Twin Rings and throttle her brother senseless.
"...how good are her doodles?" asked Glimmer, seemingly accepting the situation and opting for juicy information.
Mio gaped at her sister. "Glim?!"
"...let's just say she's better at being a fighter than an artist," he diplomatically remarked.
Mio finally gave into temptation, launching herself at Dirk to wrestle with him. The two siblings kicked and punched, even clawed at each other; however, there was an inherent playfulness to it, akin to how kittens 'fought.' There was little malice. (And yet...Dirk seemed restrained, in retrospect...)
Then, it ended suddenly.
"Wild Maelstrom."
A storm of water crashed into the wrestling duo, pushing them outside of the room and out the back door. As they landed in the grassy backyard, Dirk and Mio moaned over how drenched they were.
The perpetrator looked down upon them with a measured glance. "I do believe House Rules state that any play fighting is to be done either outside or in the designated training arenas," said Dromarch. "And what has Sir Rex said about the House Rules?"
Dirk and Mio huffed, their wet hair hanging limply. Finally, they answered simultaneously. "Rule Twelve of the Salvager's Code: a man's home is his castle; don't break the Rules, and life won't be a hassle."
"Very good. I highly recommend drying off before coming in." With that said, Dromarch sauntered back inside; Glimmer quietly walked out moments later, a knowing grin on her face.
Dirk grumbled, a strangely ugly look briefly manifesting. "Feh. You couldn't have warned us about the overgrown furball?" He then proceeded to wring out his sleeves, looking no different than usual; Mio brushed it off without a thought. (Oh, but those words hadn't been an expression of mere frustration...!)
"Like I was gonna get drenched because of you two," Glimmer joked, eventually giggling at their predicament.
Mio couldn't help but smile at the inanity of it all, nor could Dirk. However, her brother suddenly looked stern. "So; you serious about this dream boy of yours?" he asked, looking directly into her eyes. "I mean it; you ain't one to get your head in the clouds over a boy. Is this 'mystery man' that big of a deal?"
(Back then, she hadn't been sure. There had only been a certain sense of...longing; of incompleteness.) "...I'd like to think so," she admitted. "I...don't know what life in that other world could have been like...but it must not have been all bad, maybe?"
"You wouldn't think it, the way Mum talked about it," muttered Dirk, looking away from her. In the distance, the horned peak of Melnath — the great head of the Gormott Titan, unmoving and silent ever since it had joined with New Elysium — was a stark silhouette against the setting sun. "He'd better be a good sort...or else I'll rip his bloody pelt off."
The malice in those words had been so obvious that even Mio had been able to hear it. "Dirk...?"
However, he turned back with his characteristic grin, brushing it all away with an easy joke. "Then Mum can heal him up, and that's when Dad will give him a real ripper of a lecture! He'll be left a quivering mess, I'll bet!"
"...ugh, you're impossible," mumbled Mio, nonetheless playfully shoving Dirk in the shoulder.
(She hadn't thought any further about it...but maybe she should have.)
xxxx
...and yet, she also had memories of this life: equally as profound as her memories of Aionios. The differences between Dirk — her brother — and D were stark.
Alas, with the benefit of hindsight...she could now recall traces of behavior that were out of place; outliers. Dirk had tried to hide it. Could it...be possible...?
She was unsure. Yet, looking in Noah's direction — split between talking with Dad and Dunban at the kitchen table — Mio believed that Noah felt the same way. We'll have to be delicate. Even if we want to...we can't just treat Dirk like he's D Reborn.
(The possibility evoked a strange horror that hadn't been present before.)
Therefore, when her ears tilted towards the stairwell — where Dirk was walking down, followed by Dromarch and Mother — Mio tried to focus on the differences between Dirk and D.
D had been pale; despite his hedonistic sadism, he had seemed gaunt in the face, with scraggly facial hair on the chin; combined with the dirty blond hair, his whole appearance had seemed...washed out.
Dirk, by comparison, was vibrant. His thick head of blond hair was a perfect match for Mother's, and his skin was hale and flush with life. Even his uniquely red eyes possessed a potency that had been lacking in Aionios...and yet, there was a shadow lingering in those depths. (How long had it been there? How much of D was bubbling up within Dirk, even now? Or had Dirk actually been a mere precursor for D's horrors?)
(You can't think that. He's your brother. He's FAMILY.)
Mio had barely opened her mouth when Dirk beat her to the punch. "Sorry," he said.
"...eh?" said Mio with a blink. "Um...what for?"
"For calling your new 'boyfriend' a loser," he quietly remarked, glancing in Noah's direction. "Getting in his face. Causing a scene. Stuff like that." He was strangely reticent, and full of more tension than a coiled spring.
Even so, the mere experience of hearing Dirk (speaking with D's face and D's voice, no matter how much younger he was) apologize was so unexpected that Mio was caught on the back foot. "Um...well. Thank you. Apology accepted. And...sorry for punching you."
Dirk rolled his eyes. "Eh, I'm sure I had it coming. You know how I am."
I don't know how you are, thought Mio, silently appraising his expression. Her memories of Aionios had integrated thoroughly with her memories of this life; so much so, that drawing a conclusion on such an ambiguous matter was surprisingly difficult. I feel like I should know...but I don't. (What did that say about her?)
Dirk seemed to ignore her silence, turning away towards the kitchen; all the while, every adult watched their exchange in silence.
xxxx
Dirk couldn't bear to look at his sister's face.
Mio was an opinionated sort, at least when it came to her siblings; the perfect picture of politeness and civility amongst adults and her peers, to be sure. But when it came to himself and Glimmer, Mio had never been one for shyness.
Normally, she would have followed up his 'you know how I am' comment with an easy jab at his ego, because that's just what Mio did. That's just what they did: Dirk instigated and pushed until Mio or Glimmer put their foot down.
But to see her react with such hesitation, and such naked bewilderment...it was like meeting a stranger.
A stranger that wore Mio's face.
(You can only wonder how much you seem like a stranger to them.)
Dirk resisted the urge to let such dark thoughts sour his mood further, instead defaulting to 'breakfast mode.' "Might as well see what Mom's cooking," he casually remarked, leaving Mio behind.
(He wouldn't let this beat him. He wouldn't. He wouldn't.)
xxxx
Author's Note: The Salvager's Code is eternal.