Continue On, Struggler. | Chapter Nine, Distance. (Part Two of Two)
…
Six months. That's how long it's been.
Guts would be turning nine soon.
Gnarled bark scratched into the skin of his neck—made sensitive to the smallest of pricks by the frigid near-winter air—as he leaned back into it. He let the fact hang in the air and rolled it around in his mouth and then wondered what he was tasting. Bitter? Sweet? A mixture of both? Or nothing at all?
It had become something like a habit. Sitting, thinking, and tasting. Or maybe not tasting. Draped in the night, and shadowed further by branches and the scant light that the moon gave him. Full and bright, this night—only broken by passing clouds and the usual tree.
Guts was here because of a nightmare. Another new habit of his. Just like how the moon had made itself a habitual intruder in his dreams. Because with it, always came the child. Then Griffith. And then, finally, darkness. One that was wholly consuming. Of him, Guts, and of everything. Feeding in on itself, as it seemed to gnaw and claw and swirl around him, dictating to him in maddeningly directionless whispers, "This was all that there was, and all that there ever would be."
The dark—this dark.
And Guts hated it. More than any other nightmare he's ever had, he hated it. Because he knows he's had worse and yet it still shook him. And more than fear, it reminded him of a much worse feeling: failure.
Because that's exactly what he did. He failed. He failed to kill Griffith, to avenge the Band of the Hawk, and, worst of all, to keep Casca safe. And somehow, in the midst of all the monotony in his current life, he had managed to forget. News of Paul's affair changed all that, though.
The anger he felt that night. It reminded him. Not just of his past failures, but the one he added onto each day by living and breathing in this world. One that was painfully similar to the one he made after Griffith's betrayal. Despite it all, he had done it again. Abandoned her—again. This time, leaving her in the hands of the man who shattered her mind in the first place.
Once again, Guts had failed her.
But he was going to change that. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. Not that he died, or that he was reborn into a completely different world and occupied a completely different body.
His soul was intact. He could still stand and move. Swing a sword. Fight.
He could still reach Casca.
He would reach Casca.
Three more years, huh?
Paul said that if he wanted to strike out on his own, he'd need to be at least twelve years old. He'd be nine soon. So, in three, he'd have to be ready.
Guts pried his eyes from the moon, all the while wondering why he was even willing to wait that long.
…
"You were an adventurer, right?" Guts asked. "Before you came here, I mean."
Roxy—the one he was asking—had just finished giving him and Sylphie their individual lectures for the day and told them to practice what she taught. For him, it was more work on his melded magic. For Sylphie, it was using Intermediate-tier spells without chanting.
Already halfway into sitting under the usual tree, Roxy shot him a look that said, Really? You're asking me that now?
Despite her obvious irritation, she kept her disapproval to a shake of her head and a sigh.
"I was." Her response, as per usual, came with little fanfare. "A long time ago, mind you. Before I left the Demon Continent and attended the Ranoa Magic Academy." Listening to his tutor speak like an old war veteran always felt strange, considering she still looked like a child. It was a defining trait of her tribe, according to his mother—looking much younger than their actual age. "I'm sure that I mentioned it to you before."
"You have." Guts had actually gotten the information from a conversation Roxy had with Zenith—he just so happened to be present at the time—but he figured that fact didn't really matter.
"Then, why are you asking about it now?"
"Did you like doing it?"
"Not at all, really." Being blunt as ever, the Migurd sat on the ground and leaned against the tree trunk behind her. "If I'm being honest, there were times I hated it, but it helped me get to the position I'm in now. So, I guess you could say I'm still grateful for my time as one. Although, I'd never go back if I had the choice."
Guts nodded, having gotten what he wanted from the question. She, like Paul and Zenith, was like most of the mercenaries he fought with in the Band of the Hawk. She fought for what she wanted and risked her life for it, but never more than that.
"Why?" Roxy asked lamely. "Are you thinking about leaving the village?"
"Huh?!" Suddenly, Sylphie decided to make her presence known and did so loudly. Much louder than he thought possible, and he only needed to take one look at her to figure out why. The girl looked like she was a few seconds away from full-on bawling. "Rudy, a-are you going somewhere?"
Guts frowned at the question. More specifically, how she asked it. She said it so direly. As if he just announced that he was going to throw himself off a cliff.
"No. Not anytime soon."
Guts thought that his answer would calm her down, but it only seemed to make her more anxious. She put herself right in front of him. Close enough to where he could see the tears forming in her eyes and the snot running down her nose. Not a very pretty sight at all.
"B-But that means you're going to be leaving eventually, right?"
Guts nodded without hesitation and the girl recoiled like he had slapped her. He thought about feeling guilty, but then he thought about not giving a shit. He wasn't going to keep his intentions a secret—not when he had no reason to. He didn't belong here. Not in this place. Not with these people. Now, he was just waiting for the right time to leave. And he wasn't going to let anyone think otherwise.
Roxy, who Guts could see from over Sylphie's shoulder, balked at his answer too. Though, in a markedly different way; and probably for markedly different reasons. Her eyes were wide, mouth agape, and she trembled a little as her head swiveled between him and the little girl between them.
Hm? Why the hell are you so shocked? Guts asked with a look. You're the one who guessed my intentions in the first place.
"Rudy!" The Migurd admonished him through panicked, clenched teeth. "Don't put it like that! You'll make Sylphie…"
Before Roxy could finish, Guts noticed Sylphie step forwards.
His instincts kicked in that moment and he took a step to the side. And fortunately, since the girl possessed the speed and agility of a newborn foal, he was able to dodge her with ease—despite her proximity to him. Although, since she did have the speed and agility of a newborn foal, she tripped over herself and fell chest-first into the dirt.
"…panic."
That didn't seem to deter the girl, though.
"N-No!" Sylphie yelled out as she picked herself up from the ground. "No… No… No…!"
Guts couldn't see her face from where he was standing, looking down at her, but it didn't matter. He could hear the tears in her voice, and see them in her person.
"Don't…"
Besides…
"Please don't…"
…as far as reactions to his leaving went…
"Please don't go, Rudy…."
…hers was always going to be the most obvious.
"Hic! Waah!"
Guts glanced over at Roxy, who he had expected to get off her ass and do something to calm the crying girl.
In all actuality, though, the Migurd looked just at him dumbfounded.
Guts clicked his tongue and made to leave. Again, a part of him wanted to feel bad, but all he did was tell her the truth. And if that was enough to make her like that, then there was probably nothing he could do. Because there was nothing she, or anyone else, could do to change his mind.
However, before he could make it a step, he felt something latch onto his shorts.
"Please don't go away, Rudy…"
Guts hung his head back at her persistence. Briefly, he considered the blue of the midday sky through the tree that stood over them—had stood over them. Then, his gaze drifted to the deep green of its leaves. And finally, maybe for the first-ever, he found himself taking in the branches. They scrambled in amongst themselves—here, there, and everywhere. A layer, then another layer, and then another that sat even higher. Sometimes they zigged, sometimes zagged—other times straight, other times looping on themselves. A few looked to be the same thickness as his forearm, but most seemed to lie between that and thinner than his pinky finger. And in that mess of green and brown that fractured his view of the sky, he saw one thing: things being connected.
Now, doesn't this feel familiar?
He hadn't thought about it in years—what had happened in the aftermath of his killing of the elf apostle.
"There's no paradise for you to escape to."
But Guts did sometimes think about what he told that friend of hers—the little girl from the village she took children from. To dissuade her from coming with him.
"All you'll find there is another battlefield."
Jill, if he was remembering her name right.
'Go home. Go back. This is my battlefield. Go back to your own.'
He hadn't said that part out loud, and he never had the intention to either, but it's what he meant; and what confounded him most about the whole experience.
Why did he say anything at all? It was a question that popped up every time the memory crossed his mind. And, every time, he found himself at a loss for an answer.
Guts thought about his options that day. He could've always overpowered her. He was an adult, a veteran of countless wars, and probably the only human being alive to have slain multiple apostles with his own strength. And she was just a child. He could've pushed her off him and told her to grow up, and kept doing so until she did or died chasing him, but he didn't. Instead, he ended up doing something that was unlike him.
Now, he felt like he understood why.
Jill—just like Sylphie did now—thought that her life would get better if she just clung to his shadow.
Guts knew better, though.
His path wasn't hers, and her path wasn't his. All they did, in the span of those few days, was cross. And, in the end, no comfort came in going down a path that wasn't your own.
The same could be said now; in regards to Sylphie, Roxy, Paul, and Zenith.
"—It's okay, Sylphie." However, before he could even try to put any of that in words, Roxy decided to finally make herself useful. Now kneeling beside the half-elf clinging to him, the Migurd reached out and lightly patted the top of her head. "You can let go of Rudy."
"But if I… I let him go, he's… he's going to… he's going to leave forever!"
"True," Roxy said, no change in her voice or tone. Steady, knowing, and reassuring. Like a teacher should be. That's the only way he could describe her at that moment. "He might leave the village; and when he leaves, he might decide that he never wants to come back. But, tell me, what would be wrong with that?"
"But… but if he leaves… we can't be… friends anymore!"
"Maybe. But that's then, and not now. And right now, you would say you're Rudy's friend, right?"
Silence. Then, when Sylphie's grip softened and her sobbing died down to quiet sniffling, she nodded her head.
"Y-Yeah…" she said.
"Then, wouldn't it be wrong to try and get him to stay? Especially if he doesn't want to?"
"But—"
"—I left home back when I was younger too." The Migurd stopped her petting just then. "I'll tell you the full story some other day, but back then, I wanted something—something I wanted more than anything in the world—and knew I wasn't going to get if I stayed. So, I left.
"Whatever his reasons, I'm sure Rudy is probably thinking along those same lines," she said, looking his way for a moment before turning back to Sylphie. "I'm not happy here." Her voice was a tad deeper and her lips curled into an exaggerated frown. "So, I have to go someplace else and find my own happiness."
When her attempt at mocking him was met with complete silence, Roxy smiled to herself and mumbled, "…Or something. I can't claim to know everything that goes on his mind."
Sylphie sniffled and turned her head up to face him. "Is that true, Rudy? Are you… Are you really not happy here?"
Guts frowned when he saw the tears that still hung in her eyes. Looking into them, there was no doubt in his mind that she found the news of him leaving truly heartbreaking.
"Yeah." Like hell if that was going to stop him, though. "Roxy's basically got the gist of it. I've got something I need to do, and I can't do it here in this village, so I have to leave."
"Okay…" Despite her saying that, Guts felt her grip tighten. She got up, but even then, she couldn't look him in the eyes. "Could I come with you then? Would that be okay?"
Guts shook his head. Again without hesitating. The offer was tempting honestly. She was really good with magic now. And leaving it at that felt like an understatement. If she kept improving at her current pace, she'd be far better than him at it by the time they turned twelve, but that wouldn't change one fact: she would still only be twelve years old.
In all of her life, Sylphie's never left Buena Village. She's never been in a real fight before; and because of that, she's never had to kill anything—much less anything that talked and felt like she did. And most importantly, that meant she's never been close to getting killed either.
A lack of age meant a lack of experience and, where he planned on going, that made her a liability.
"Don't kid me, and don't kid yourself," Guts said.
Suddenly, their eyes met. "But I wasn't kidding—!"
"—Then, quit acting like one."
Again, Sylphie seemed taken aback by his answer.
"One thing doesn't go your way and the first thing you think to do is chase after it like it's the only thing in the world that matters." A part of Guts wanted to laugh at the irony, but he pushed on with what he was saying regardless. "You're telling me that you'd really be willing to leave Buena Village? Your home? Your parents? All for what? To follow me? To become an adventurer like me? To fight every day of your life, and risk losing it in some far-off land where it'll take months for anyone you care about to even know you're dead? Is that really what you want your life to amount to?"
Sylphie was silent for a while and then gave her answer.
"N-No."
Her voice was shaky, and so were her eyes, but she never broke eye contact. There was a conviction there, and that's how he knew she was telling the truth.
"Good." Guts pulled away and did so with ease, and Sylphie's arm fell to her side limp. "If you're so set on throwing your life away for something, then make sure it's for something you want." He turned away and started back down the hill. "Do that and I'll think about taking you seriously."
…
Later, Roxy caught up with Guts and admonished him for making Sylphie cry.
Guts shrugged in response. "What? It's my job to make her feel better?"
"Making her feel better isn't really the problem here, Rudy." Roxy sighed. "I'm happy that you were honest with your intentions, but you could've saved her the usual attitude. You can't just expect people to understand your intentions just by stating them outright."
Guts grunted.
Roxy sighed again. "Why did I ever take on such a stubborn student?"
The conversation died then and there—not that Guts minded.
It was only when they neared his house that the silence was broken.
"Just to be sure," Roxy said suddenly. "You're serious about leaving the village, correct?"
Guts hummed, a little irritated at her doubt.
"Does this have anything to do with what's going on between you and Lord Paul? I know you two haven't been seeing eye to eye as of late, but—"
"—I wouldn't be here suffering through his bullshit if that was the case." Already sick of where this conversation was going, Guts stated his feelings outright. Paul might've been a lot of things—an idiot and a cheating bastard most definitely—but Guts wasn't leaving to spite him. That'd be giving him far too much credit. "There's something I want to do. I can't do it here, so I'm leaving. That's all there is to it."
It was Roxy's turn to hum this time. "So, when are you planning on leaving?"
"Two years."
"Talk about being oddly specific…" The Migurd muttered. "Why then?"
"Old man's orders."
"Huh? When have you cared about something like that?"
Guts frowned and shot a glare at his magic tutor.
She just smirked at him in response.
He clicked his tongue and returned his focus to the path ahead of them.
"Still, as far as ages go, twelve seems pretty reasonable," Roxy said. "I left my hometown when I was ten, so I should know."
Guts nodded, understanding that final part for what it was—a quiet warning. It was the only way to take it, considering what she had told him earlier. Still, within that warning, he sensed some understanding too.
"For what it's worth—whatever it is you're trying to accomplish by leaving—I think you'll succeed in achieving it."
"Hm?" Guts glanced back over his shoulder at her. "What makes you say that?"
"I can't really say since someone here won't actually tell anyone what it is they're trying to do." Roxy shot him a smile, despite the jab. "But for whatever reason, I look at you and just can't imagine it—you committing yourself to something and failing, that is. Though, I might be a little biased."
More than just a little, Guts shot back in his head.
Her vote of confidence, while appreciated, was outright wrong.
He's failed plenty of times in his life. Hell, the only reason he was here at all was because he failed. He kept pushing on despite them, but that didn't make him any less of a failure. The only reason his tutor thought otherwise was because she'd only ever known him—as Rudeus Greyrat, the child prodigy who seemed to excel at everything he did; not as Guts, the man who scratched, clawed, and crawled every day of his life before he lost it.
The rest of their walk had been done in silence. And all the while, Guts wondered if Roxy would change her opinion at all if she knew the truth.
Nah, he thought to himself when the Greyrat House came into view.
His teacher could be stubborn in her own right.
…
A couple of months later, Zenith and Lilia gave birth, and those were trying times to say the very least.
His mother had given birth on time, but there were complications halfway through. Her baby had come out bottom-first—instead of the usual head-first—which Guts learned the meaning of then and there: if they all didn't act fast and accordingly, both Zenith and her baby could die.
Lilia had already reached the late stages of her own pregnancy; so, before they had realized anything had gone wrong, the family had called on a local midwife to help guide them through the usual process. However, once things turned to shit, the old bat turned out to be less than useless.
In short, she had taken one look at the situation and called it hopeless.
For her part, Lilia hadn't wavered at all.
It had taken some time, but with Lilia doing everything in her power, and him and Roxy—who Paul had run to get—continuously casting healing spells, the birth had come and gone without anyone dying.
The baby was a girl. A healthy one, despite all the complications. Everyone let out a relieved sigh when they heard her cry for the first time.
You're my little sister, huh? Guts had thought then as he stared at the newborn, who Lilia and the village midwife had cleaned up and wrapped in a clean cloth for Zenith to hold. The words had felt strange just to think. He never had a family back in his old world. Not one that was related to him by blood. Now, he had a mother, a father, and a little sister. A strange sense of fulfillment had filled him then, watching his little sister cry.
But before he could think anymore about it, Lilia had gone into labor herself. A surprise, considering the maid wasn't due to give birth for another month or so.
However, before any panic could set in, the previously useless midwife jumped into action there. It seemed that, while she had zero experience with a baby coming out the wrong way, she had some with premature births. So, as soon as Lilia went into labor, she had begun barking orders to him, Roxy, and Paul.
She had Roxy conjure up water for a bath, had Paul bring Lilia to Guts's room, and Guts had been sent to get as many clean cloths and towels as possible. The midwife handled all else.
By the end, Lilia gave birth to a healthy little girl. His second little sister. She was smaller than Zenith's—for obvious reasons—but she had cried all the same. And cried loudly. To them, that meant everything was going to be okay.
After, Guts and Roxy had been relieved for it all to be over. Paul just grinned from ear to ear as he held his two new daughters. Guts had thought it made him look like a dumbass, but even he couldn't bring himself to slander the man at that moment. Hell, even he had smiled a bit at the sight of them.
Three new parents. Two new children—two new little sisters.
Zenith had named hers, Norn. Lilia had named hers, Aisha.
Norn and Aisha Greyrat. During the calm, as the two mothers held their children, Guts spent some time repeating the names to himself, trying to get used to the sound. Welcome to the family, I guess.
…
Chapter End.
A/N: I'm back. Thanks in advance for all of your patience. The college semester is over, so I'll be able to get these out more regularly over the summer. We're near the end of arc one and once that's over, I might take some time off to finish and polish up arc two. I'll let you know how that goes.