…
"… … san!"
"Yuuya-niisan!"
He heard someone call his name, albeit the sound came across as distorted and distant. He remembered to have heard the same thin voice laced with a fearful tremble somewhere before, somewhere when the world swirled around and smacked him in the face with dirt. He remembered the duel that had ended with his miserable loss, which kindled a familiar disillusionment in himself. He had believed to have become better, that his win-lose rate started to resemble a skilled duellist rather than a tossed coin.
However, true to himself it seemed, he could not win when that counted.
He had been torn from his friends in an innocent moment, shoved into a wormhole that landed him in another dimension with a small child in tow. He had been shaken at the bleak outlook, unsure whether this interdimensional mess would ever end well. He had wandered around the devastated town with a small hand in his, the crumbled walls talked about a horrible war that had come too close too fast. He had wandered around, without a reassurance that there was even a soul alive in that wasteland aside from them. He had found a someone then, who introduced him to other survivors that had not dared to believe in him with vicious enemies to hunt them around the clock.
He had started to convince traumatized crowds to count on him, to have faith in his abilities. He had started to earn their trust with his immoveable conviction and reliable skills to shelter them. He had started to become someone that his father would have been honoured to call his son. He had announced his intention to return the entertainment to the duels, to sneak a smile onto the wearisome wrinkles with elaborate theatrics, but in the end, in the end—… He failed. He led them into his ideals with their hands in his, then failed to stall the counterthesis that was Academia off. He could not even ensure that the war would not to haunt them further. He heard them, her—
Reira had been terrified. He had wanted to commend her for her valiant efforts so much, her unbelievable resilience that had made her sink her heels into her trauma to aid others. He remembered her call his name amidst the ruins, in which Academia had ended him. He remembered his sworn word to defend her from enemies outside and inside her frail mind. He had wanted to scream for her to run and not look back. He had wanted her to see his desire and run, run dammit!
He could not bear to lose someone else, from his own weakness nonetheless.
He could not bear not to feel the warmth in his arms.
… warmth—?
His consciousness distanced from the dazed reminiscence. He noticed that his chest worked hard to breathe with the bruises that the latest duel had dished out to him on his torso. He had been rendered bedbound from a heavier hit even as an entertainment duellist, his habits to divert the attention with wondrous fireworks and an arm around his waist honed to flawlessness. He was, however, used to accidents, not the sadism that should have been nominated as an Academia trademark.
However, even within the discomfort was a warmth that drew him back to consciousness. He felt that warmth sneak around his torso, then flinch back at his subconscious hiss and settle on his knee. He started to wake from his restless unconsciousness to see a small child cuddled to him in distress. Reira.
"Yuuya-niisan!"
Her small hands clawed into that dirtied white fabric his trademark coat had been reduced into, which made him dismiss his discomfort to offer her the most comfort conceivable in their unfavourable situation. His arms encircled her with a secure hold, head leaned next to hers that started to crane to the sides a bit. He could make basic deductions from the bits that the faint illumination from the side revealed, that someone locked them in a cell with all but their clothes taken. He frowned.
He would have believed that Academia would card him without much hesitation should a chance arise for them to do so. He worked to undermine their malevolent aims whether on orders or not. He stood next to his own ideals and refused to bend a knee to their ruthlessness. He doubted the small child in his arms would have a worth to their interdimensional abductors, which meant that the reason his, their, execution was deferred to a later date could not be known. Reira seemed to sense his distress and clawed into his clothes even more. He murmured words into her ear as soft as the hair that his hand caressed in a feeble effort to ease her worries.
"Yuuya-niisan, I'm scared."
His heart shattered at those small words.
Reira was an autonomous child, too much so. Reira had twitched his coat and asked for advice on how to do this and that time to time, but never asked to be sheltered and cuddled as a child should have. He hated to hear that beautiful determination threaten to break as fate led them towards the worst outcome.
He tried to remember what calmed her down the most. He had seen her entranced with a tune hummed to children that had to be lulled to rest between crumbled walls. He tried to remember the lines, the beat to summon the familiar feel. His throat hoarse from the shouted commands dished out to his monsters tried to imitate the woman that had introduced her to the small, melancholic tune to be of some comfort. He rocked back and forth to the beat, as a cradle to the small child.
He noted with satisfaction that the tune turned her erratic breaths into calmer, slower ones. He continued with the second verse, in a lower murmur to cover the omitted words that did not come to his mind. His stomach twisted with concern and dread at a sudden remembrance about their situation, which hitched the tune and added a tremble to his arms. He cursed himself and continued. He could handle this, handle whatever would be thrown at him. He would have to!
Reira sensed his distress return and buried her face into his clothes.
"I'm scared. Yuuya-niisan, I'm scared—"
"I know. I know—"
His voice cracked as the tears threatened to fall. However, his determination held them back. He would not show his tears to her, that would take the one reassurance from her that this was not the end. He would not show his tears to their abductors either, that would make him admit defeat in mind as well.
His arms soothed the trembles that shook her back, with a hand on her head. His back hunched over to shield her from the cold around them, to cover her in his warmth. His knees and feet crossed behind her back in a defensive stance to fend off malevolent intent. His attention darted the corridor besides their call, watched the smallest movements. He was a shield between the world and the child in his hold intended to deliver one irrefutable claim, and that alone.
Whoever wanted to hurt her, would have to force her from his cold, dead arms.
…
Published: 12/09/2024