Everything everyone said about the weapon upgrade option was right. It had been years since he built Undertow, so Caspian spent the first three days on a deep dive into hard-light dust circuitry, and brushing up on the mechanics of a transforming weapon. Another two days to draw up the schematics; a sketch to scale for each component, and his very own assembly diagram. Then came what he naively thought would be the fun part– assembly. Only the baseplate, straps, and handle were salvageable. He had to tear out what remained of the dagger's sheath inside, rotating it and fitting it with a cable-and-spring based ballistic system similar to the workings of a compound bow. After all that, rigging the hard-light alone took two more days, wake to sleep with only spare breaks for food and a quick restoration of his sanity.
Over a week of blood, sweat, and a few tears later, he fixed the last screw into place. His tiny screwdriver rattled across the table as he leaned back, bumped his glasses up and rubbed his eyes deeply with sore fingers. He donned the new armguard, secured each of its straps as he stood up, and held his breath through grinding teeth.
He clicked down the pad beneath his thumb.
Light sprung from within, tracing the tips of five wing-shaped tiers that extended four inches from each side of his arm and trailed away from his hand at a mild angle. A sixth shell extended past his elbow, completing the shield of glowing blue.
When Caspian realized his jaw hung at the site, he fixed it into a smile. He flicked it, and it seemed solid. It held up to the highly official test of throwing his eraser to the ceiling and protecting himself from it. He couldn't wait for noon to come around, when he could show Moka the fruit of his week-long labor.
He checked the time, and gawked at the fact he was already fifteen minutes late. Sixteen. She hadn't checked in with him yet, but he shot her a quick apology, threw on his joggers, workout shirt and windbreaker and was out the door. He slowed as he approached hers. He heard voices inside, heard the latch and saw it swing inward. He hoped to anyone that would listen that it wasn't Cattleya.
It was a man. None of Moka's teammates. He had to be a couple inches over six feet, and stretched his heather grey form-fitting tee with the muscles beneath. Long blond hair was tied into a bun behind his ears, and a band of stubble framed a near-perfect face.
He turned back around to the door as he left. "We should do this again," he suggested. "I'll text you."
Moka followed him out, wearing only a tee that fell a third of the way down her thighs. "Yeah, for sure!"
The visitor nodded at Caspian as he passed. "Excuse me."
"Sorry."
When Caspian looked back, Moka peeked out from the doorframe. "Oh shoot. Is it already noon?"
"Yeah. Uh, if this is a bad time I can–"
"Gimme five minutes!" the door closed behind her. After a minute or so he decided he'd wait in the stairwell, out of the way should Cattleya, or Blaise, or anyone else really, come out of their dorm. But soon enough and without incident they walked together. Concealer was smeared haphazardly across three reddish-purple splotches on her neck. Maybe Cattleya was right about Moka, at least in that regard.
No. It wasn't any of his business. Neither Moka nor the man she was with were hurting anyone. He wouldn't ask about the blotches. Or any of the fresh bruises on her legs. But curiosity did pull at his sleeve. Curiosity, and another emotion he wouldn't validate by giving a name. An entirely useless emotion he had no business feeling.
He tried his best to sound excited for her. "Are you seeing someone new?"
"Hm?" she mused. "Oh, no. Not really. He was from MatchBox. Probably just a one-time thing. Maybe two." Her hand went into the hair behind her ear. "But how's that shield coming along? Sounded like you were having a hard time."
"Oh trust me, I was," Caspian answered. "But so far it's promising! I'll show you at the SFC."
The elephant in the room stepped out after a couple of minutes, leaving space for conversation to flow like normal on their way to the SFC. He hadn't been in awhile, he realized. He spent most of his time working on the assignment currently strapped to his arm. When he got a break from that, they would study. Once they made it up to one of the second-floor sparring courts, Caspian called her attention to his new, improved armguard, and opened it to a full shield.
Her eyes sparkled at the transformation. "Ooh, lookin' good!" she commended. The light sizzled as she flicked it a couple of times.
"That's not all, either," Caspian boasted. He nodded to a rubber torso mounted halfway across the room, and stepped to a marking on the floor. "See that target?"
"Mhm!"
He raised his shielded arm, lining up its center ridge with the dummy's sternum. He tugged at the trigger and his dagger shot forward with all the force of a ballista, enough to send an unexpected jolt through elbow and shoulder. The blade tore a chunk out of the dummy's side, cord coming to rest in the newly-formed cleft as the knife swung limply behind.
Moka's head bobbed up from behind the hands that rose to instinctively cover it. "Okay. So that works!"
Caspian's eyes were still wide, focused on the open rubber wound. "Maybe a little too well."
"You know? I wasn't gonna say anything, but I doubted a little bit when you told me you were going for the upgrade," Moka admitted. "Especially since you don't really have to worry about passing the final. But it looks like you pulled through!"
Caspian chuckled. "Honestly, I regretted it most of the time I was working on the damn thing."
"Oh! I know, spar me!"
"Huh?"
"Your upgrade has to be fully functional if you wanna pass, right?" Moka recalled. "Besides, you don't want your first run to be against Grimm, do you? Let me test it out!"
He stumbled over an answer. Part of him wanted to decline because he didn't particularly like the thought of turning his blade against Moka, but all the times they had fought beside each other reminded him it wasn't her he'd have to worry about if they sparred.
"Okay. Just… don't hit it too hard, okay? I worked really hard on it."
Moka didn't listen.
His new shield held behind the weight of a semblance-boosted hook, but it wasn't magic. It couldn't stop his arm from crumpling and smashing into his forehead. He staggered back, and lost the air in his lungs to Moka's following uppercut. She pulled her third to let him recover, but came at him again with another hook.
He raised his shield, angling it to let the swing fly over his head. He left her open to a pair of slashes at her side, but she caught his third above her head with a fist encased in ice, pulled him in, and kneed him in the gut. He pushed her away with his shielded hand and freed his blade, eyeing her for a couple of seconds before they closed in again.
Moka's punch whipped air across his face as he ducked aside, and turned his blade to slash from her shoulder to hip. She swatted the blade from her side halfway through, and followed up with a couple more punches. Each spread a dull ache through Caspian, but he could tell she held back. Any actual combat scenario, he would have made a point to stay far away from her, whittle her down with dust shots. She was leagues ahead of him in close-quarters combat. But if he wanted to test out his shield, he'd have to take a couple hits.
He ducked next to another strike, and gave up a bit of his form for power in his overhead swing. It didn't pay off. Moka caught his wrist, pounded a hand into his chestplate, and flung him over herself. He splatted flat on his back, spread eagle.
"Okay," he strained with the first breath that returned to him. "You win."
Moka offered him a hand and hauled him to his feet. "It held!" she noted.
"It did. But upgrading my weapon only goes so far." The words came out twinged with a bit more bitterness than intended, but he continued. "And it doesn't help I still don't have a semblance."
"You've already improved a lot in just the last month or so, I can tell," Moka assured. "And I can try to help unlock your semblance!"
"Can you do that?"
Moka's head tweaked halfway parallel with the ground and she looked at it. "Maybe? I've never tried before," she admitted. "But you unlocked your aura a long time ago and it's actually pretty strong, so your semblance has to be rattling around in there somewhere." She plopped down where she stood, and looked up at him with the backs of her hands resting on her knees. "Here. Sit with me."
He complied, and she raised her hands an inch or two.
"Okay, now close your eyes, and grab my hands."
"But my hands are sweaty."
"That's okay."
He wiped his hands on his pants, and placed them gingerly in hers. They were strong, but the skin on the middle of her palms and the backs of her hands– anywhere not calloused over by weight training and rock climbing– was warm silk.
"Okay, I got bored one day and looked up how to do this so it might work," Moka began. "Keep your eyes closed, and think deeply about what makes you 'you.' That could be things you do, things you've done before, what you like and don't like, um, oh! Your core values…"
He thought about all he had done. He was a student at Sentinel– just like a thousand others. He was the one to face the Bullfiend during the entrance ceremony. The one to run back onto that time-bomb of a cargo ship back in June. But no. Those weren't him either. Those were desperate cries for approval, cries for help. Back when he didn't know who he was, or care who he was, so long as someone would accept him.
His values. Helping others. Kindness. But that was just what was expected, wasn't it? He never could figure out if he did it out of some genuine care for others, or just because he was told that's what was "right." Even studying with Moka, he offered in part to feel better about the fact she'd done so much for him.
Intelligence, a sense of humor, a particular sense of style. No matter how many facets of himself he named he couldn't help but feel there was something missing. Or at least there should be.
Who was Caspian, really? The Headmaster's son? Lazula Skye's brother?
No.
The leader of Team CRLN?
Almost. But that was only a part of him. Only a role he filled. The "C" of CRLN, not Caspian Skye.
He thought about his place among his friends. He had kept most of the same ones his entire life. But more recently, Moka. The Sparring Team. They seemed to like him, for some reason.
But was that even "him?" Is the view of the self through others a perfect mirror? How could it be, when others are shaped by all the mirrors they've looked into throughout their lives? And all the times their own mirror has been shattered, pieced back together. The view held by the girl whose hands clasped his own would differ from Noxis's, which would differ from Lazula's, and Snow's, and his father's, and anyone else's. But who was right?
Was anyone, but himself? Or could he even be sure of his own view?
"Now clear your mind, and breathe deeply for ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Seven."
She continued the countdown. Caspian breathed in, held it, and breathed out. He found his mind difficult to clear entirely. So much still felt unanswered.
Moka's hands left his, and the air that replaced them was cold. "Okay. Now open your eyes. How do you feel?"
Caspian took a few seconds to consider. He thought about the moment he unlocked his aura, that flow within him like a torrent of cold water through his limbs. "I feel… nothing," he answered. "I don't feel any different."
Moka's lips shifted into a sideways pout. "Hm. Well, that's what the internet told me to do."
"It's probably not you," Caspian assured. "When you asked me to think about what makes me 'me,' I could barely come up with anything. I started to think about everyone else, instead. People I know, who I am to them, things like that." His gaze shifted down to hands that wrung each other. "You know, even through all this training I wonder. Am I just doing it to be more like Lazula? Or just… someone else who isn't me?"
"I don't want you to be anyone else, Caspian. I want you to be the best possible version of yourself."
"Eleven. Eleven. Twelve. Twelve."
Lazula let the sixty pound dumbbells fall to each side of her bench, and shook out her arms. She admired her right in the mirror for a second, first as she let it hang by her side, then as she flexed it to work the idle sinews into one thick knot under flushed pale skin. She caught the flick of something brown and fluffy a bit behind her, through the clouded glass. Moka passed by the doorway, with Caspian a step behind her.
She'd wanted to bring something up with him for a while. But he'd been so busy with something for the last week, this was the first time she had seen him. She'd come back to rack the weights. If he was following Moka's pace, they could be out of the SFC and down the street by the time she put them all back. She finally tracked them down by the exit, and got Caspian's attention with a hand at his shoulder.
"I've been wanting to talk to you. Do you have a minute?"
Caspian looked uneasy, but this time she couldn't blame him. He glanced quickly at Moka, then back. She was quiet.
"Uh– yeah. I have some time."
Lazula nodded, and turned to Moka. They hadn't spoken much since the incident at Sparring Team practice. "We might be a little while. Sorry."
"Oh, that's alright! I can get in an ab workout or something," she assured. "Cas, you wanna just meet back here when you're done?"
Caspian agreed, and they made their way down past Sentinel Stadium. There was a small beach along the bay, tucked behind a patch of trees past the parking lot. It was a popular spot during Summer, but on the coldest days of the year it would be deserted. She wanted to bring up something to break the silence in the meantime, but couldn't come up with anything. She wouldn't ask about the splotches on Moka's neck. That was information she wanted nothing to do with. But at least he seemed better off than before.
Grey waves pushed and pulled at the rocky beach, driven by the persistent, chilled wind that rose off the water. Lazula did one last sweep to ensure nobody was around, and sat at the knobbly bench.
"I wanted to talk to you in private about the last time we talked. And tell you something."
"I've wanted to talk about it too," Caspian returned. He took a sudden interest in a rock someone had left on the armrest. "And I wanted to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say your strength, and skill, is all because of luck. I know you've worked so hard, for so long, to get where you are now. And…"
The slow shake of Lazula's head muted him.
"Thank you. But I wanted to tell you that's not the only reason."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you remember mom and dad's stories about Vladimir Garnett, and the Church of Awakening?" she asked as her reply. "And how the people Vladimir killed were sucked into his soul?"
''Yeah?"
"Well, four hundred and sixty of those souls transferred into mom when she killed him. And when we were born, they all transferred into me."
Caspian was quiet, and the stone was still between his fingers. The waves continued to lap at the shore.
"In a way it is luck, if you could call it that. Because if you had been born first, you'd be the "Indomitable" one. You'd be exactly as strong as I am." She sighed. "On that Saturday, I'd just found out. I'm sorry."
Caspian took a long breath in, and it escaped as a cloud. "No. I don't think that's right. I guess they might make your aura stronger, and make you physically stronger, but even if all those souls were in me, I couldn't match you." He flicked the rock just past the water's edge, and it disappeared with a splash. "You have this drive, unlike anything I've ever seen. I think that's what makes you the best."
Lazula tried to speak, but felt a sting in her nose and knew her words would be choked out. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat, because she hated letting anyone see her cry.
"Thank you."
"Of course. And… I love you. I don't know if we've ever said that before. But I do."
"I love you too."
He was right. She couldn't remember ever telling him, or ever hearing it. For siblings, for twins, she always felt a rift between them. Maybe it was her fault. Maybe it was his, or both of them. But she felt this did something to help fill it in.
"Can we go back? I'm really cold."
