Archive of Our Own ^beta

"I"ve always liked the time before dawn because there"s no one

 around to remind me who I"m supposed to be, 

so it"s easier to remember who I am."

                                     — Brian Andreas

The sky above Yuno"s head has a bleak, teal shade, a rather uncommon occurrence for an autumn in the Clover Kingdom. In the distance he can spot some fluffy clouds, lazily smudged across the entire area, as if someone had combed through them with careful motions. Gentle gusts of wind can be felt on slightly chilled skin, tousling the boy"s already unruly hair.

   When he thinks about it, the sky above the Golden Dawn base looks quite different from the one in Hage – the shade of blue up there looks less vivid from here, as if someone put a thin layer of film over it, making the whole sky more bleak. Perhaps it is due to the fact that the kingdom"s capital is way more crowded and polluted, with the abundance of buildings and stalls on every corner. Or maybe it is simply nostalgia spilling out from his bones like a liquid honey, clouding his judgment. 

With a sigh, he gets up from the ground, deciding that it is enough of lazing around. He dusts off his pants and adjusts the cape he threw over himself sloppily before laying down. As much as he would like to indulge in the moment and soak in the sparse sunrays offered by the current weather a bit more, there is a lot of work awaiting him at his office. After sparing a glance at the unusually quiet Bell floating beside him, Yuno heads towards Golden Dawn headquarters. 

"Weren"t you supposed to hand some reports somewhere, so they could get to the Wizard King?" asks the spirit, flying up closer so he can see her.

Yuno furrows his brows, taking a turn inside the building. He still can’t get used to the abundance of carpets covering some floors and staircases, as in Hage they don"t have even a single one. Maybe he should give one to his family at church; winter is fast approaching — they could use it.

"That"s why we are going to my room right now,"  he explains, pushing the door leading to the floor with the boy’s sleeping quarters open.

"I thought you didn"t like to do things last minute?"

She is not wrong — he has a deep distaste for doing things while running out of time. It fills him with uneasiness, as if he is losing control over something important. But in all fairness, the only person he can blame is himself; after all it"s not like anyone is dragging him away from doing work. Something about him has been off lately, and he can"t quite put a finger on it — maybe tiredness, or a simple burn out that would go away after he rests some more.

Or maybe you are just not suited for this position , the back of his mind supplies.

Yuno quickly shoves away that thought — he is completely capable of handling his duties and rightfully deserving of his role. He must get rid of that little voice inside this skull.

   "Sometimes the situation calls for solutions we don"t really like," he settles for a diplomatic answer, hoping it would cease the spirit"s curiosity.

After taking another turn, the pair spots Mimosa and Klaus talking to each other near the window. They seem to be pretty relaxed; the girl is happily giggling at something and their senior is visibly in a good mood, if the barely noticeable smile and elbows casually resting on the windowsill are anything to go by. Dressed in their usual clothes, Yuno assumes they must have returned from their mission not too long ago and finally can take their day off. 

He clears his throat in a warning and approaches his friends.

To his slight surprise, both are startled at his arrival. Maybe it is a trick of the light seeping through the windows, or his senior tenses a bit. 

"Did something happen?" asks Yuno, puzzled.

His comrades exchange quick glances, which the boy assumes must convey something, since they respond in unison:

"Everything"s fine!"

Yuno quirks an eyebrow at their unusual behavior, but brushes it off – everyone at the base has been stressed recently, following the whole elf reincarnation fiasco. He can’t bring himself to blame them – if he had woken up barely remembering anything, he would also feel carnally hungover and stressed around others. 

Still, he can’t help but purse his lips in discomfort – he is their friend after all, they should know by now that he will gladly share both their joys and sorrows.

Mimosa recovers first and sends him her signature sweet smile. “We were just talking about going to the cantine. We didn’t have time to eat anything since morning and we are kinda starving,” she prolongs the last syllable in an almost whiny tone.

Yuno wants to interject, saying that he doubts that any of them ever had to starve, considering their family backgrounds, but Klaus speaks first.

“Are you coming with us?” He fixes his glasses, addressing him and pointedly ignoring the floating spirit. 

He receives a nod as the answer. “I just have to submit some papers to the captain and I will be right back, you can go without me.” After a beat, he adds: “It won’t take long, I promise.” He still remembers the last time he said the same thing – they didn"t see each other until the next day, because he got a little too invested in his work.  

If any of them has an answer for that, he doesn’t hear it, already rushing down the corridor. 

As expected, it takes longer than he anticipated. Simple task of delivering documents turns into a quick shower, change of clothes and a cleaning session. By the time he finishes all his tasks which he thought to be urgent, he expects the canteen to be empty. To his amazement, when he enters the room, his friends occupy the table in a far corner, where they usually eat their meals.

He makes quick work of collecting cutlery and dishes and heads towards their spot.  

“Sorry for the delay, I had to finish something first,” he apologizes right off the bat, hoping his tone conveys the right amount of remorse. He puts down his tray and plops down onto the chair, facing others. Bell munches on an apple, content.

Mimosa waves her hand dismissively, picking up her glass. “Don’t worry, we get it. Glad you could make time for us.”

Despite being said in a light manner, the comment stings. He is well aware of his latest negligence when it comes to friends, but it is not like he planned it beforehand. There are only so many things he can do during the day. He admits – they didn’t spend much time together lately, their last shared meal eaten probably last month, but he tries. And for now, he hopes it will be enough. It has to matter, somehow.

After that, he digs the spoon into some kind of soup and eats in silence, occasionally offering his opinion on some ever-changing topic discussed by his friends. He is pretty sure that what they do is basically gossiping –  nobles and royals both seem to love it –  but, as put by David once, they prefer to call it “collecting and sharing intel”. As absurd as it sounds, it is beneficial to know what is going on around them. 

 After what sounds like the fifth dating scandal among noble families, his brain begins to focus more on the manner in which they speak, rather than what they talk about. For example, each time they turn to address him directly, there is a faint hesitation painted on their faces, like they consider if something should be said in his presence. Even usually overlooked, Bell gets more animated reactions than him. 

That’s it. Enough is enough and he has to get to the bottom of it.

“Okay, can you tell me what is going on?” he starts, making sure to be calm about it.

And they do it again; share a glance he is not privy to, like a coded message someone forbade him from deciphering. He winces internally – it is not supposed to be like this. 

The silence stretches further, but in the seventeen years of living, Yuno learned that if one stares silently into someone’s eyes long enough, they will finally break. It also happens this time. 

As expected, it is Klaus that gives up first. 

The man squirms in his seat, eyes drifting from point to point in rapid motions, before staring straight into Yuno. He takes a breath and explains: “We have some kind of an…” he trails off, cheeks reddening, his initial confidence gone.

“An issue!” supplies Mimosa quickly. “We have an issue.” She sounds way too enthusiastic about it.

It still does not answer Yuno’s question, so he presses further. “What kind of an issue?” Can day do something about it? Should they mobilize more forces? Maybe they should inform the captain?

 Klaus scratches his head, defeated. When it becomes clear that the red-haired royal is not going to elaborate, he admits: “Together with Mimosa… We were simply wondering how we should call you.”

Yuno and Bell both tilt their heads in unison, like a pair of twin dogs, confused as to why their owner threw out their stick so far. “What do you mean, ‘call me’?”

Mimosa sets her glass down. “What we mean is that, well, we always called you simply Yuno, and that’s fine, but” – she studies his face in search of any sudden reaction – “we wonder if it is still appropriate? You know, with you being a vice-captain now, our supervisor and so on.”

“We mean no disrespect, of course,” Klaus hurries with an explanation, fixing his glasses.

To say that Yuno is flabbergasted would be an understatement of the year. He stares at his friends in disbelief, processing their words. It isn"t a question he expects at all, less more from his closest companions. It takes a moment for its implications to fully sink in.

Oh.

So it’s like that.

He digests their words and takes a sip from his glass, deciding that he likes apple juice way more than the orange one. He also decides that his friends are dumb, but they are still his friends. When it seems like the silence from his side built enough tension in the air, he simply shrugs. “Whatever suits you, I guess.”

And there it is – rubber band loosens, champagne gets opened and Mimosa and Klaus sigh in relief. The balance in the universe is restored.  

“Thank God, it would be weird since we are peers-”

“I am your senior so it would-”

Yuno can’t help himself but crack a smile at their reactions. Who would have thought it was such a silly thing they stressed over?

“You know what, Klaus? I bet you are still gonna call him vice-captain, since you love to follow rules and hierarchy and have stick–” Mimosa’s voice gets muffled by Klaus hand on her mouth.

“Don’t you–!” He shrieks and takes his hand off her face as if burned. “You!-”

From there, Yuno mutes their squabble and watches with a soft, practically imperceptible smile. He can’t exactly pinpoint the moment when the three of them went from being one senior and two juniors under his guidance and care, to simply just friends. Of course, there were moments when Klaus would fall into old habits and begin to lecture them about some things in his typical older-squadmate manner, but they became less and less frequent. He must admit, he hopes that it will stay that way despite some changes — there"s a lot of comfort in a presence of two bodies basically pressed to each of his sides almost whenever he goes, be it a mission or a simple wandering around the capital on their day off. So Yuno lets himself hope that this won’t change anything – they will still let him call himself their friend and he will let them do the same in return. There won’t be any invisible wall between them and they will walk side by side as long as they can.

The silence is interrupted once again, as Bell shrieks in protest.

"Objection! I should be the only one calling you by name, Yuno. You are mine after all!" she huffs, puffing up the cheeks. "They can call you captain or something".

  Yuno groans. Lord, help him.

The boy pushes the flying fairy into his breast pocket, completely ignoring her protests. He is glad she is with him but – to be completely honest – she can be a lot .

He spares a glance at his friends watching spirit"s outburst with a mix of disbelieving and amusement.

"She"s overreacting, don"t listen to her. ‘Yuno’ is just fine," he assures.

It"s perfect, actually , he thinks. Simply “Yuno” .

Mimosa claps her hands.

"Now that it"s settled, we should go out. I am not gonna waste the rest of the day sitting in the canteen. We should go to the city!" She dusts off her skirt and stands up, not waiting for their reactions.

Yuno and Klaus look at each other and shrug, following her. The younger only hopes that when they return in the evening in time for supper, there won"t be any more people asking him if they could still use his name, as if he lost it somehow.

The boy sighs internally, following his friends and wonders.

   There is something achingly cruel in the title preceding one"s name. 

***

When he was younger, he used to cry a lot.

It isn’t a fact known by many; when he thinks about it, likely only his dear family witnessed it. Maybe some other villagers are also aware, but even if, they never let him notice. Maybe it is their way to show him kindness – not dwelling on his flaws, instead silently accepting one of his weaknesses, as if there were nothing wrong with being weak and scared and pathetically rooted to the ground at the times when one should be exploring with curiosity. 

He cried when he scraped his knees after his limbs became tangled mess while chasing after Asta.  He wailed when he burned his fingers on the stove, trying to help Sister Lily make dinner in the kitchen. His cheeks burned from salty tears at nights that were too dark and too cold. He choked with tears and couldn’t catch his breath the night he came back home with his bruised and hurt brother in tow. 

However, one day, he just stopped. 

It could be a consequence of that night, or maybe a simple fact that he grew out of that undesired habit. Maybe light mocking from other kids around him had something to do with it, or the decision that there are cases when he could take an example of his almost twin brother. What was apparent, was the fact that the boy never shed a tear again, at least not in front of anyone at home, which led some of his youngest siblings to a conclusion that he is unable to do so. 

The same siblings in front of which he stands at the moment.  

“Big brother Yuno!” Both Aruru and Hollo scream in excitement, running towards him as soon as they spot him near the path leading to their cabin.

The boy spreads his arms, and after feeling the impact of two bodies colliding with his chest, locks them in a tight embrace. There is something surprisingly grounding in the pressure applied on him, almost comforting if he has to be completely honest.

“Hi guys, how are you?” Yuno tries his best to smile at them, despite months of not doing so while being away. 

Kids slowly pull away after a moment, and he can finally take a good look at them. At the first sight, Aruru’s dark hair seems longer and Hollo’s a bit lighter from the sun. Both of them have grown a few centimeters, judging from the too short pants they wear and wrists showing from under the supposedly long-sleeved shirts. Their faces are sun-kissed and scratched and Yuno can’t help but wonder if Asta and him also looked like that when they came back from their outside ‘adventures’ as kids. 

“We are super good!” Aruru announces with a grin, already tugging at the sleeve of his uniform, dragging him towards home. 

Hollo giggles happily beside them, taking his other hand.

“Father! Big brother Yuno came!”

The next thing the wind mage hears is a clattering sound coming from the inside of the building and after a moment the figure of his foster father emerges outside. Despite a little grayer hair and more creased cassock, he looks just as he remembered  –  like the ultimate feeling of comfort and safety personified. The cross-shaped necklace is dangling around his neck as he makes his way towards the boy. 

“Yuno!”  Father Orsi calls enthusiastically, almost tripping over the stones laying on the ground. “It’s been so long since you were here last time!”

The boy can’t suppress the chuckle that made its way out of his throat and once again lets himself be squeezed by the waist. To be fair, it hasn"t been that long ago since he visited   – barely a few months passed, barely three seasons, countless weeks, abundance of missions and nights in a bed that still doesn"t feel entirely like his own. He lets out a shaky exhale – it isn’t a time to dwell on his personal yearning, but  he feels simultaneous joy and shame for ever leaving this place hit him.

How can one abandon a place where one is treated with such gentleness, as if they are truly precious and meant to spend every single one of their lives there? And how can one endure all the love that is poured on them there, without each bone in the body crushing into fine dust? 

Boy clears his throat and claps his foster father’s back with the free hand that isn’t tightly squeezed by one of the siblings. As much as he would love to let himself be held some more, he has to keep up appearances. 

Taking a step back, he fixes his squad robes and looks at his caretaker somewhat fondly, but not in a way that would make anyone wonder what is going on in his head. 

“I was quite busy,” he settles for an answer, already knowing that his mind will remind him later that it isn’t entirely true. “And I kinda lost track of time with all the stuff going on,” he mumbles additionally, as if to convince himself that he wasn’t avoiding his own home.

But is it your home?  hisses the voice in his head mockingly. Do you have the right to be here?

The boy blinks rapidly, grounding himself. It is one of these moments when he wants to smash his head with something, just to make sure that, for once, any free space in his head is filled with silence instead of absurdly unhinged thoughts. 

Priest smiles blindingly, putting his arm around his foster son and leading them into the vestibule of the house. The rest of the kids follow closely behind.

“Of course you were busy, we understand. It must be very absorbing – being a vice-captain, probably a lot of work, hm?” queries the older man, letting the boy through the door first.

Yuno thanks quietly and crosses the threshold. The inside of the house looks just like he remembers. From where he stands he can spot a single rack for thin jackets and an empty shoe shelf. Bright walls of the living space are decorated with some pictures of saints, children’s drawings and bookshelves full of piled up volumes. On his left there is a kitchen with cluttered countertops and a simple wooden table at which they used to eat their meals.   

He inhales.

“Quite, but nothing I can"t handle,”  replies the boy, wondering if he should take his shoes off. 

You sure?

He shoots a quick glance at other kids, which are already pulling their little boots off and sprinting towards the stairs leading to their sleeping room.  Shoes off, then .

Orsi nods and leads them to the kitchen. Yuno gently takes off his cape and although he would never have thought it possible, he suddenly feels both extremely under- and overdressed. Maybe it is the fact that he is dressed in a Golden Dawn uniform, which feels slightly out of place here. Or is it a lack of an additional material  that he could always use to hide himself more, as if doing it could help him become smaller, take less space, finally disappear from the place where he doesn’t feel like he belongs anymore.

“As expected,” jokes the priest, pouring some milk into the mug and handing it to the boy. He furrows his brows slightly, “But drink it, you look a little pale”. 

“I’ve always been pale”.

“I know, I know, but this much?” The man scratches his beard, openly scrutinizing him.

Yuno rolls his eyes. God, he is aware of the fact that recently he didn’t look like the healthiest person but there aren’t as many occasions for a proper rest as earlier. The amount of paperwork that comes with this position also means that a huge chunk of his time is spent in the base library or in front of his desk, meaning he isn’t outdoors as much as he would like. The price of success, he guesses somewhat bitterly.  

“Bad weather,” he mumbles, tipping the cup and drinking its content.  He swallows, looking around. “Where are others?” he asks, hoping for a change of topic.

Father Orsi looks at the clock hanging above the entrance to the kitchen and hums. “They should be here any minute, I think.” The man disappears  behind the doors leading into the tiny pantry. He comes back holding a few potatoes in his arms. “Wanna help?”  He motions towards them with a chin.

“Sure, why not?” The boy shrugs and takes the vegetables from the man. It will be good to busy his hands with something, instead of standing in the corner like a useless idiot. 

He rolls up the sleeves of the uniform, and after washing his hands takes the knife from the drawer and gets to work, leaving it to the priest to start a fire. It is surprisingly easy –  to fall into the old routine, from when he knew exactly what was expected of him and he himself was sure that he could do it. 

As he finishes rinsing the starch from vegetables, Father breaks the silence: “Will you come with me to the herbalist? We need some things and you know, she always throws in some discount when she sees you.” He sends him a crooked smile before reaching for a cutting board.

Yuno groans internally. The prospect of visiting the Old Clovis, as they called the only herbalist-considered-doctor in their area, does not fill him with joy, rather makes him slouch his arms. Since his childhood, she has tried to set him up with her granddaughter. Despite his visible discomfort and later in life, apathy, she would always comment something on that topic when he ran errands in the village. But she would also lower prices or even add some extra stuff to his purchases, winking, like they shared some secret, which in turn sent shivers down his spine. Each time after coming home he would declare that next time they should send Asta, but Asta never brought anything for free, so Yuno stayed an errand boy till the end. And it sucked. 

Even though Yuno may not be the best person,  he is an okay child, so he agrees.

“Good, thanks kid,” laughs Father, tousling his hair and clapping his back. 

He just rolls his eyes and they continue prepping dinner. When they are finished, he goes upstairs to change his clothes, not wanting to parade around in his uniform – it definitely attracts too much attention. He finds some old navy shirt and black pants and puts them swiftly, noticing he grew some centimeters in recent months, judging by too short sleeves. He smirks; next time he sees Asta he has to rub it in his face. 

In the vestibule, he puts on the boots. As he straightens, he catches Orsi  staring at him with an unreadable look in his eyes.

 He raises an eyebrow. “Do I have something on my face?” he asks, instinctively wiping his face with a hand.

The man just laughs it off. “No, your face is okay,” he assures. He makes a vague move with his hand before letting it fall to his side. “It’s just you all grow up so fast…” he trails off, sighing and reaching for the basket. He offers his arm to Yuno, but he declines and offers his own in return.

They leave the house and inform the kids playing outside that they will be back soon. After a few “Be careful!” and “Come back safely!” they are out. Initially they walk in complete silence, and Yuno can almost imagine that he is thirteen again and this little village on the outskirts of the kingdom is his safe heaven and the only place he knows. That nothing sinister will ever come and he can rest assured that he will not have to worry over its safety.

Few minutes into their march, Father inquires: “Have you seen Asta recently? He wrote quite a lengthy letter but forgot to write if he will visit.”

Yuno shakes his head. “No, we both have been busy. Black Bulls more than usual, honestly.” He observes village cats lazily soaking sun rays on the short brick walls surrounding one of the homes. “But I am sure he will come over soon, even if only to show off to Sister,” he reassures, watching as one of the cats chases after some bird. “If not, let me know so I will drag him here.”

Father chuckles, squeezing his arm. “No need, let him have fun out there, he will come around in time, I hope.”

Yuno nods and doesn’t say anything. He is glad that his brother and him were given this amazing opportunity to leave the village and earn good money, not worrying about things like family business or anything similar. The payment is excellent, job – albeit often dangerous – rewarding and with many opportunities to prove oneself. Especially for Asta, who years ago were the source of concern for many people wondering how someone without magic can manage. But there he is, doing his best and making his family proud. 

They reach their dreaded destination and turn to face each other. Father puts both his hands on Yuno’s arms and looks him in the eye, in all seriousness. “You remember what to say, right?” 

Yuno snorts involuntarily. “Yes.”

The hand claps him in the back. “Let’s go and good luck, son.”

The wind mage rolls his eyes but still smoothes out a shirt and puts on his the least offensive smile – the one that doesn’t say ‘please leave me alone’ – and enters the shop. 

Maybe he doesn"t have to save the kingdom everyday or fight ancient demons to prove his usefulness. Maybe there is a meaning in small sacrifices like helping loved ones in bizarre but routine activities, too. 

***

With every next breath, Yuno feels as if someone tightened the invisible rim around his lungs. The gut wrenching  pain expands even towards his stomach, brutally reminding him about the fact that despite all his gifts, he is, in fact, still human.

Painfully so. 

Bell flies up to him from her sitting spot on the rock and looks at him with a concern spilling from her eyes.

“I think you should stop for today,” she suggests, gently touching his shaking arm. 

Yuno doesn’t even glance in her direction, instead turns a few pages in his grimoire, getting ready to cast another spell towards the unfortunate tree he chose for training today.

“No.”

 Technically, he could concede. He could rest some more, convince himself that it is enough training for one day and he doesn"t have to work himself nearly to death on a daily basis. He could leave the training grounds behind the base headquarters, bid goodnight to the lingering in the common room mages from his squad like a normal person at midnight and go to bed. But he doesn’t. Instead, he decides to repeat the same spells he has been casting for the past few hours, just in different order. They have to be perfected. 

“Yuno, listen to me.”

He attacks again, this time breaking a solid part of a branch. Still not enough. He needs to try harder.

“Yuno!”

Maybe he needs to strike from a different side, maybe less precision and more raw force would do the trick?

“YUNO!” 

Maybe- Something blocks his view.

Oh, right. Bell is here, too. 

His gaze slowly meets that of the wind spirit in front of him; her brows are drawn together in a stern grimace and lips are tightened into the thin line. Oh, he must have done something wrong, she doesn’t do this often. 

“Did something happen?” he asks, sobering a bit.

“Yes!” She puffs her cheeks. “You’re ignoring me and not listening!”.

Yuno sighs. It is too late for this kind of conversation.

“I don’t. I was just focused, I’m sorry”.

Bell snorts, flying a bit further from him. “Focused? Please, you acted as if you were in some trance! You didn’t even ask for my help, what are you trying to do?!” she screams, clenching her fists.

Yuno bites his lip. He didn’t try to do anything. In fact, he doesn’t know what exactly he wanted to achieve doing what he was doing. Get stronger? Not this way, not while being so exhausted. Let off some steam? More likely, he has been somewhat buzzed in recent days, especially if one would take into account the fact that it is his captain that is responsible for all that elf fiasco – in addition, some of Golden Dawn members were also receiving weird looks from those few who know. And if one considers that most members were also turned into elves, one should know what to expect.  

“I don’t know,” he admits, letting his arms fall at his sides. 

You see others getting stronger and it pisses you off ,  the teasing voice in his head laughs with glee.

Boy sets his jaw and shuts his eyes close. Shut up . 

You want others to see that you’re working too. But it won’t be enough, don’t worry. Not with all of your–

            Shut up. Shut up already . 

            "Sorry, Bell," he sighs briefly. "Let"s head back, okay?" 

      The anger seems to evaporate from the Sylph features, replaced with a gentle, yet a bit concerned smile. She nods and flies towards the back entrance to the base, leaving her host to catch up at his own pace.

As Yuno predicted, there isn’t a single soul hanging out in the common area. The only indication that somebody has been there is the slowly dying fire in a fireplace and the lingering smell of some herbal tea in the air. Well, at least for once he is going to take his time in the shower without anyone rushing him. 

Both of them take the staircase leading to his –  in Bell’s opinion, theirs – room. The concept of not sharing a room with other human beings is still quite foreign to the boy. After all, since day one he was stuck in the same room with Asta and, later, with the rest of his siblings. Sometimes he finds himself missing it, but he is almost certain that they have quite different opinions on that matter; he tosses and turns in his sleep at all times. 

Yuno stops in his tracks upon seeing a figure walking down the corridor. He thought that everyone was asleep already but there it is, a few meters ahead of him stands vice captain Langris in all of his irritating glory. The only thing different from his usual image is the lack of his signature turquoise cape. The falsely friendly smile he usually wears also isn’t there.

Which one is more odd, he can’t tell.

The mentioned boy also spots him, instantly furrowing his brows at the sight.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” He walks closer, tilting his head. 

The younger of them remains expressionless.

“Just finished my training,” he responds, not seeing the point of lying just to not be chewed up.

Langris snorts.

“Training at night? What a stupid idea, really.”

Yuno shrugs his arms.

“I don’t think so. Maybe you should try it sometimes. Maybe you won’t be so sour all the time,” he adds under his breath.

Vice captain rolls his eyes and waves his hand, heading in the direction from where Yuno came.

“Waste of time, I am already strong,” he states nonchalantly. He stops for a second and turns toward his squad mate. “Also, Captain Vengeance was looking for you.”

At that, Yuno can"t help but raise a brow. What can the captain possibly want from him at this hour? However, before he has a chance to ask any more questions, Langris already disappears behind the corner, the clicking of the heels of his boots being the only sound echoing in the hallway.

  Yuno grimaces . How annoying.  

Not being sure how long ago it was that the captain was looking for him, he thinks that it wouldn’t hurt to go there now. He doubts that he is asleep at that hour and even if, he won’t be barging in without knocking. He wasn’t raised by barbarians, he knows how to behave. Mostly, at least.

He looks at Bell. “Let’s go to the captain’s office, we won’t have to do this tomorrow”

The spirit whines in protest. “Do we have to? I am tired enough, I wanna go to sleep already.” She hangs her head to show her exhaustion.

“We will have to get up earlier tomorrow if we won’t do this now,” he notes, knowing that there aren’t many things she hates more than being awake at early hours.

“If you insist,” she murmurs, hiding in his grimoire. Some rest won’t hurt.

Yuno quickly finds the right door and takes a breath before knocking. Rationally, he knows that he isn"t doing anything bad, but still; visiting your superior at night might be seen as inappropriate and rude. Not that he particularly cares, he just wants to avoid unnecessary conflicts and troubles. 

Few seconds later, the tentative yet warm "come in" sounds from the inside. The wind mage pushes the door open and enters the room.

As the rest of the base, it is a noble-taste decorated room, with some expensive looking furniture and trinkets.  There are also many plants near the huge, full length window with halfway drawn curtains. Quite in character for captain , he muses.

Speak of the devil. His eyes land on the figure sitting behind a massive oak desk. Vengeance is still dressed in his uniform, cape abandoned on the hanger. In his hand is clutched a quill dipped in ink. However, the most noticeable is the  lack of mask on his face and a graceful smile dancing on his lips. 

"You wanted to see me, captain. Did something happen?" 

 "At ease. Take a seat, I just have to fill out some documents and I will talk with you." He motions to the chair on the other side of the desk.

Yuno nods and sits obediently, as his mind starts to think about the possible reason for this conversation. He can’t recall any slip-ups during his missions, any open conflicts with other members or any major problems with his behavior. To be honest, till now he is convinced that his performance as magic knight was quite satisfactory. Is there anything to talk about?

His musings are interrupted by a quiet humm.

“It’s been almost a year since you came here, how do you like it so far?”

Huh?

The boy blinks in surprise. This question wasn’t on his bingo card for that night. 

“It’s alright,” he opts for a neutral response. Sensing that it isn’t enough, he continues: “There were some… Issues at the start but I think I"m fine now?” the rest of the sentence comes out more like a question. 

Without looking up at him, William asks:

“You mean the issues some members of this squad had with you being a commoner?”

Oh, they were rarely nice enough to use that word, they seemed to like a “peasant" much more.

“Yes. But it doesn"t happen that much now,” he feels the need to assure. He isn’t a snitch and he can stand up for himself.

“I am glad to hear that. I know that beside you and Mimosa everyone here is a noble, but I would hate to see that it has anything to do with the way how anyone is treated.” He folds a sheet of paper and puts it aside before reaching for another. “I created this order hoping that everyone who is strong and willing to protect the kingdom and its citizens finds their place here.” 

Sounds nice , thinks Yuno to himself. It reminds him a bit of what Lumiere and Licht wanted –  a place where humans and elves could live in harmony, no matter who they were. Looking at his and captain’s uniform, knowing what he knows from Patry events from over 500 years ago, he can’t help but wonder if it is accidental that William"s dream is so similar. Or maybe it is a shared desire of both him and an elf? Is it natural for Clover citizens –  dreaming of a perfect, fair world, just like he and Asta do, too?

Captain takes the prolonging silence as a cue to say more. “Saying that, I must admit I am glad that you joined our ranks. You seem to be growing stronger each day, so I decided it would be good to send you on another mission.” He hands him a document file. “You will be sent with Klaus and Mimosa like usual, but this time, I would like for you to take command of the mission.”

Yuno takes it with furrowed brows. Where does that sudden change come from?

“With all respect, sir, shouldn’t it be Klaus still? He’s our senior and–”

“And he’s been doing a great job so far,” interrupts William. “But this time I would like you to try. If I recall, when you first came here you declared you would become the captain of the Golden Dawn, am I wrong?”  His face stretches in a sly smile. 

While Yuno is aware that his declaration from his first days here is well known by everyone, there is something almost embarrassing in knowing that it also reached the captain"s ears. 

After clearing his throat comes an answer:

“That’s correct”. 

Vengeance hums in approval.

“That’s a good challenge you set for yourself, Yuno. But before reaching for that, there"s plenty of experience you need to gain, knowledge you need to acquire and few ranks you need to obtain. I hate to point it out, but it’s natural that you may have less in terms of education and common knowledge than others. Should you need any support, don’t hesitate to seek me,” declares the captain, signing the last document and putting off the quill, before looking him in the eye. “Also, before captain comes vice captain and we both know that competition is not easy here,” he huffs a gentle laugh. 

Yuno’s expression sours at the mention of Langris. He can’t wait to see the day when he replaces him, even if only to see his reaction. 

“What i want to say, it would do you good to slowly become used to briefings, reports and all the not so exciting stuff that comes with holding a high position,” says William, nodding towards the freshly filled stack of reports. “I am sure you will manage when the time comes, though.”

Yuno nods, grateful. It is nice to hear that someone believes in him but also considers things that may be improved in order to help him, without presuming that everything is a piece of cake. Without assuming that four-leaf grimoire magically makes everything possible without any effort.

“Thank you, captain.”

Vengeance smiles gently. He looks at the clock on his desk and sighs.

“I know it’s late and I should not be keeping you here any longer, but I would like to apologize for any inconvenience that was caused by my recent actions,” he says solemnly. “What I did was unacceptable and I am deeply sorry for that. I talked about it with a few other members, but now that you are here I thought that doing so once again wouldn’t hurt. I just hope it won’t be a source of problems for any of you, I would never want that for my squad.”

Yuno is completely silent. Honestly, he has no idea what to say, he was never good at comforting people and even if he was, he isn’t sure if it is the right thing to do. But he knows that after all the kind words he has just received and a somewhat touching confession, he has to say something. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

“To be honest, I don’t think anyone is blaming you?” he wonders out loud. “I didn’t notice anyone here talking differently about you, or anything like that. I don’t know the whole story or your story, but from what I know I can tell that you didn’t have that much of a choice? With Patri being involved and all.”  Yuno shrugs, and adds: “I wasn’t in your situation, captain, so I don’t think I have a right to say if you did the right or wrong thing. I mean, the actions were kinda bad but I don’t think you meant to be evil and cruel? And that must mean something, right?” He tries to save his statement with a clumsy finish.

William Vengeance hums in thought, considering his thoughts. Just when the younger boy begins to seriously wonder if he somewhat overstepped, he smiles somewhat sadly towards him.

“Thank you for your honest words. I always appreciate them. You are free to go, Yuno.”

Wind mage stands up, gives a quick salute and bids his captain good night. When he walks down the corridor, he can’t help but keep thinking about their conversation. The longer he does that, the less anger he feels at William’s actions. Instead, the feeling is replaced with compassion and sadness.

He would never fully understand the other man, not living his life, but something about  a constant guilt hidden under a carefully crafted mask resonates with him on a level that makes him shudder. He may not have allowed the “hostile” beings to infiltrate the kingdom, so his sins may be lighter to bear, but still; each of them influences one’s life in numerous ways, regardless of their severity. 

He also understands that one’s sins are his to bear and for him to repent only, without any interference of others. But he decides that the least he can do is to continue making the captain proud of his squad and simply stand by his side alongside others. He just hopes that one day it won’t be necessary to constantly prove himself – be it the traitor, the peasant, the one who is defective . That there will be a day when passion and love and ambition and all other things fueling them will matter. 

He bites his lip, thoughts for the last time drifting towards William and Patry. 

 How difficult of a choice must it be, choosing between someone who had given you a new life and someone who was with you when no one else was?

How heart-rending and  cruel must have been fighting one’s own demons, without anyone noticing?

***

It is one of his rare days off and he decides that after his routine training it is high time to have some well-deserved rest. Usually he would spend some time in the Golden Dawn library, which –  as he had discovered not so long ago – possesses an incredible book collection, but due to a certain person’s schemings, he is basically forced to go out.  

In easier words –  Mimosa kicked him out, saying he should socialize more. 

And there he is, slowly making his way towards the city square in a noble realm. After spending so many years in a small village, he thought that getting used to the noise and lively atmosphere of the capital would be proven more difficult. Luckily, long gone are times when he flinched at most of the new noises; instead he takes some pleasure in walking by different stalls and buildings scattered in the whole area.  

He stops next to one of the stalls, run by a nice-looking girl, about his age or a bit younger. She is dressed in a baby-blue patched dress, with her auburn hair styled in two pigtails. If Yuno has to guess, she is also a commoner, helping their parents make money. 

“Hi! Would you be interested in buying something?” she asks cheerfully, gesticulating towards the products. 

Yuno shoots a quick glance at the items presented at the table. Laying there are mostly hand-made accessories – some key rings, gloves and similar things. In all honesty, there isn’t anything that he would need. 

His eyes wander somewhere behind her. On the stool under the stall’s makeshift canopy sits a blonde boy, probably just a few years older than him, dressed in the worn out shirt in the same shade of blue as his – he assumes – sister’s hair ribbons. On his lap rests a worn out book stripped of its covers, which he paints with a fresh layer of glue. Yuno guesses that a cover restoration makes an interesting process, but it is the other man’s face that really catches his eye. Handsome , he thinks and chastises himself not even a second later. 

The girl smiles awkwardly at the prolonging silence. Yuno’s cheeks burn in shame.

“How much for this one?” He points towards a handmade bookmark with a sunflower painted on it. It is the first random item he spots, trying to save his face, but technically he could buy one for Recca; she always forgets on which page she interrupts reading, and since Yuno isn’t home, he can’t remember it for her as usual. 

The girl collects the bookmark and stares at him. “500 yul.”

“I’ll take it then.” He smiles gently towards the girl, handling her the right sum.

She gratefully takes the money and bows her head.

“Thank you so much!” She waves him goodbye. “We hope you visit again!”

 Yuno knows it is a standard formula that vendors use towards their clients, but something about the way she grins and a light chuckle sounding from behind her makes him feel like was busted. In return he gently bows and walks away, sparing one last glance in his direction – he notices him smiling cheekily and winking single time before going back to his work. 

His cheeks burn like they are on fire.

Well, he won’t be visiting again anytime soon, it seems. 

Behind his back, the whistling sounds.

“Woah, Yuno, isn"t it a little too early to flirt with ladies?” 

And that would be about it in terms of a peaceful day.

He turns around and according to his predictions, is met face to face with Asta.  

The mentioned boy didn’t change at all since their last meeting — he is still the same short, incredibly loud boy with a signature headband decorating silver hair. The Black Bulls robe is thrown sloppily over his shoulders, though it looks more fitting than last time they met. In hands he is carrying some packages. 

    Yuno smirks.

   "For me? Not so much. You, however,"— he comes closer and bows a bit, so he can almost touch his brother"s nose with his own — "need to grow many centimeters for any of them to notice you in the crowd." He decides to play into his brother’s assumption for now. 

Asta backs down and throws an accusing finger in his direction.

"That"s a lie! I was even kissed by a girl recently! In a cheek, but kissed anyway!" The yelling begins.

Yuno shakes his head with expressionless face, but on the inside he has to giggle upon seeing his rival so worked up.

  "I"ll believe it when I see it." He crosses his arms over his chest.

"Damn you, handsome jerk! You are just jealous!"

 Yuno snorts. Him being jealous of Asta’s love life? Never.

Envious of other qualities his rival possesses? Always.

 No one has to know it, though

The wind mage pockets his fresh purchase and fixes the hood of the robe. “You wish.”

Asta only laughs in response, hitting Yuno in the chest with his fist. Ouch. 

“It’s been some time since we’ve seen each other, right?”

Taller of the boys offers a hum in response. Since joining their respective squads, they didn’t have much free time they could spend together – it was either spent on training or performing magic knight’s duties. In most cases they met each other on the battlefield or on rare joint missions meant to explore new dungeons. It would be a lie to say that Yuno didn’t expect it when they first joined ranks – it is only natural for each of the squads to have different areas of operation or even schedules. What stings, though, is the fact that secretly he used to hope that it wouldn"t be that much of an obstacle in meeting his rival on a regular basis, but it came out to be almost impossible. Thus, he can’t even muster any biting comeback to Asta’s question.

“Yeah, I guess it’s been,” he mumbles, not really knowing  what more he should say.  He looks up. “You are on duty right now or…?” he trails off, gesturing in the general direction of the market.

Asta huffs a nervous laugh and spreads out his arms. “I guess so?” He points in the opposite direction, somewhere behind Yuno’s back. “Finral and I are collecting some things for captain Yami, but it’s not a mission, I guess? I mean, he said that he will kill us if we mess up but it doesn’t seem like a life or death matter?”

Yuno raises an eyebrow at that. Turning back, he can indeed see the Black Bull’s spatial mage talking to some vendor. If his slouched posture is any cue, it either isn’t going so great, or he just wants to come back to the base really fast. 

“Does your captain abuse any of you in any way?” he asks, not knowing the man very well, wondering how much of Asta’s statement was sarcastic.

Asta blinks twice, slowly. Then a booming laughter escaping his mouth can be heard by most people gathered in the area. He claps his rival’s shoulder.

“Nah, Yuno, it’s his love language. It’s quite motivating, you know? You have to surpass your limits or you are dead, quite a good tactic, don’t you think?” He smiles with his eyes closed.

What the fuck?

 Suddenly, Yuno is immensely glad that their captain isn’t a supporter of such methods. It is hard to imagine that it actually works, but well — as many people, as many tactics. 

“Whatever,” he sighs, looking around. There were some places where they could sit and not talk to each other like idiots in the middle of a marketplace. “Wanna go sit somewhere?”  He surprises himself with an offer.

Asta smirks teasingly. “Hmm, that’s a new thing, Yuno. Can it be that you missed me?” He wiggles his eyebrows and nudges him in the ribs.

“Forget it.”

“But you’ve already offered!”

“Then I’m canceling.” 

“You can’t do it!”

“Seems to me like I can.”

While bickering with each other, the duo doesn’t hear  Finral approaching them from the side.

“Come on boys, there’s no need to argue in the middle of a kingdom.” He raises both hands in a peaceful gesture.

Yuno raises an eyebrow. Where did all their purchases go?

“Don’t worry, Finral-senpai, we were just catching up!” Asta throws an arm around Yuno, squeezing gently. 

Wind mage rolls his eyes. Dork.

“We didn’t want to trouble you, Finral-san,” Yuno explains, feeling a bit childish for getting carried away with Asta in a public place.

Spatial mage only waves his hand, laughing. “No, no, it’s alright, I was just worried that something was wrong between you two. Asta speaks so highly of you and I wouldn’t want to see you estranged or anything like that,” he admits, scratching his head. 

Asta speaks about  him to others? And good things, it seems?

“Woah, Finral! You can’t be saying things like that with him here!” yells Asta, with an almost invisible blush on his face.

Yuno doesn’t comment on it, muting the rest of the conversation between Black Bulls. 

At moments like this, he wonders if he isn’t actually a cruel person. Asta talks about him with others, meanwhile he usually can’t utter even a single word about him while talking to someone else. Of course, he defended him that one time when Langris made unnecessary jabs in the general direction of Black Bulls, and sometimes mentions him while talking to others about their rivalry and so on, but he still feels like he doesn’t appreciate his brother openly to the same extent he does. What rubs him the wrong way in his own actions, is the fact that he is immensely proud of his brother – so much that there are moments when he thinks that his heart will burst out from his chest.  Still, he can’t form proper words that would convey his thoughts and feelings concerning the person he spent most of his life with; everything he comes up with sounds either shallow or too corny. As much as he enjoys seeing his rival all worked up at his impassiveness, sometimes he wishes that he could lace his own tongue with something softer, as if to cushion all those harsh words and jabs, covered with thorns. Especially when they are alone, so he can know it is not some kind of an act. He would like to look him in the eyes and say how grateful, how proud he is, but he can’t, isn’t able to do it since he remembers. This helplessness makes his heart feel heavy with regret, but he also knows that he would rather swallow nails than admit to a weakness in front of his family. But–

“Yuno, are you with us?” Someone waves his hand in front of Yuno’s face. “I think you spaced out for a bit.”

Mentioned boy shakes his head, burying unwelcomed thought back to the bottom of his brain. “I’m alright, what were you two talking about?” He looks around at his interlocutors. 

“We were discussing terms of coming back to the base,” explains Finral with a smile, and Yuno can’t help but wonder how it is possible for the man in front of him to be related to Langris. The amount of warmth in his voice, his expressions and thoughtfully selected words made him feel unusually at ease. 

“Finral-senpai offered that he could come back to the base alone so I could go somewhere with you to catch up,” adds Asta, squirming in a place, restless.

Yuno has to frown at that. He wants to say something about not wanting to interrupt them or violating their schedule but is stopped by the oldest boy.

“Well, I’ll be going then,” Finral fixes his robe and raises a hand in a farewell gesture. “You two, have a nice afternoon. It was nice to meet you again, Yuno,” he smiles.

“Likewise,” comes an answer from the younger boy. He doesn"t know every single member of Black Bulls, but so far Finral would be his favorite. Besides his rival, naturally. 

Both him and Asta watch as their senior disappears through the summoned portal. They look at each other, before Asta points at the nearby tavern.

“Wanna grab a drink?” 

Yuno smirks, putting hand on his hip. “Aren’t you a bit too eager for alcohol?”

“Try living with a drunk Vannessa all the time, your relationship with alcohol becomes interesting,” he barks out a laugh.

While he heard some rumors about a certain witch in the Black Bulls that reportedly was drunk almost all the time, Yuno till now was convinced that people were exaggerating as usual. But to have it confirmed by another member of said squad… He only hopes she can at least perform her knight duties most of the time. 

He shrugs. “I guess we could go, it’s almost evening anyway,” he adds, looking at the slowly darkening sky.

Asta gives a  triumphant shout and takes Yuno under his arm. From there, a member of the Golden Dawn is dragged towards the red-brick building with a hideous clover signboard. 

Upon entering the inn, Asta glances at his brother. “Since you haven’t been drinking much in your life, I’ll take you something mild to begin with, okay?”

Yuno raises an eyebrow at almost caring behavior. How much exactly did he have to drink for him to think he became an expert? He wants to point out that out of the two of them it wasn’t Asta who drank mass wine on a regular basis when they used to be at home, but decides to keep it to himself. He’ll let him have the joy of showing him something, for all he cares.

He nods. “Whatever.”

Asta smiles and disappears in the crowd nearby the bar, which Yuno takes as his cue to find them some place to sit. Which isn’t that easy at this hour; beside regular drunkards scattered everywhere, there are also few ordinary citizens and off-duty magic knights. The place is almost filled with people to the brim, but after a few seconds of scanning the room, he manages to secure the booth in the far corner. Making his way there, he thanks whatever deity that existed for keeping Bell resting in his grimoire – if only she saw all those people, she would definitely start trashing them. 

Just as he sits down, Asta notices him and moves in his direction, carrying in his arms two beer mugs. Under them, there are two bottles of wine.  

This isn’t gonna end well , thinks Yuno, but decides to wait for the end result. 

“Sorry for the wait,” mutters the silver-haired boy, putting down the dishes with the slam. He sits down himself, and takes one mug in his hands. “So, how have you been? I feel like it’s been ages since we saw each other.”

Yuno takes a second to look at Asta. It’s been a few weeks since the elves incident came to an end, and also since the last time they saw each other. Even if neither of them changed in terms of appearance, he can’t shake off the feeling that Asta feels a bit… different. Not in any negative way; just the way he carries himself – he appears to be even more confident than before, like someone who found out the direction he wants to go and someone who has enough knowledge, experience and support to know that they can do it. If he had to compare it to something, it feels like that day when he first declared he would become Wizard King, but instead of a certain desperation in the voice, he sees the confidence in the look. And just for a second, he wonders if that effect would be achievable if his brother ended up in a different squad than Black Bulls.

He shrugs his arms and takes a sip of beer.  “Not much, you know, usual stuff — doing missions, collecting stars, getting stronger.” 

Asta snorts. “Yeah, you want me to believe that this is all you do? No fooling around? No making friends and so on? Nothing?” He stares in disbelief, seeing how the expression on his rival’s face doesn’t change. “You must be joking!”

“Why would I? There’s really not so many exciting things to do,” he states, shrugging his arms. Why is Asta making such a fuss about it?

“Any friends?”

“Mimosa and Klaus?” It comes out more like a question than defense.

“That’s all?” His brother looks at him in such disbelief, it almost makes him wonder if there is something wrong with that.

“Yeah? Why are you staring like that?” He squints his amber eyes, squeezing the mug handle a bit harder.

Asta has the nerve to look embarrassed. ”Nothing, just you know, I thought that by now you would… How to say it…” He puffs up his cheeks in a thought. “Made more friends? Bond with others?”

Yuno looks away, fixing his gaze in a row of transparent glasses displayed behind the bar. 

The thing is, he knows exactly why the shorter boy is making such a big deal out of this. Long ago, back when they were kids, they swore to each other that every friend they would make along the way would become their family. After all, blood didn’t matter that much, not with every single kid at church not knowing who their relatives were or if they were even alive. They had each other in their little bubble back in Hage, and it was enough. But the older they got, the realization slowly started to nest in their bones and the fact was that with expanding horizons, the family also must grow. No matter how grueling or painful that process might be. 

Asta was always better at adapting to new things, whispers a voice in his head . Maybe that makes him more likable and better than you? 

He shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek, trying to distract himself with pain or anything that would stop the thought process once and for all.

“It’s complicated,” he states, the lie easily rolling from his tongue. “There’s way more people at Golden Dawn and most of us are usually busy with something. It doesn’t leave much time for integration.” Not that he ever tried. Maybe it would work.

Asta is silent for a while, idly moving his cup around, liquid almost spilling out. Then he looks Yuno dead in the eye, and asks: “Are you doing okay there? It sounds like there isn’t much fun going there.”

What in hell?

Yuno reaches for the bottle of wine and unscrews it. He gathers thoughts while pouring some of it into the empty mug, not wanting to sound too affected by his rival’s words. The memories of his very first days at the base resurface, and he has to take a deep breath, so his voice won’t come out shakily. 

“Of course I do, who do you take me for? Besides, I didn’t enter Magic Knights to make friends, but to become the Wizard King.” He takes a decent sip of the liquor, trying to wash away the bitterness he feels in his mouth upon thinking about what Asta’s question implies. 

Aren’t you lonely there?

Asta looks like he wants to say something more, but he just sighs in resignation. Maybe it is for good, after all. He meant no harm, it was Yuno who felt attacked without reason, his insecurities acting out. 

Black Bulls member takes it upon himself to improve the atmosphere. He smiles slyly. “We both know it will be me who becomes the Wizard King! I will let you be my advisor, though.” He waves a hand in a dismissing gesture. 

Yuno can feel the corners of his lips tugging in a small, private smile. It is hard to admit, but he missed his brother and their shared bickering. There is something utterly cold and burning in waking up alone in the room far too big for one person – at least by his standards – and not seeing familiar faces, not hearing the snoring he used to hear every single morning. Yes, the privacy that comes with his own room is refreshing and quite pleasant, but something is lacking, and maybe it is sitting in front of him at this moment. 

“That’s a nice offer, but I have to decline,” he smirks. “Being an advisor doesn’t satisfy me.”

Does anything satisfy you? Or are you a greedy monster that wants more and more, without giving anything in return?

The voices in the back of his head get louder. He drank too much. Not enough to get wasted, but just enough to let the voice in the back of his head take more space and spit more venomous words. The smirk disappears from his face and he feels a sudden urge to puke and fall asleep at once, just for him to not hear anything.

Asta only laughs, unaware of his inner turmoils. “That’s why you are my rival, I know no one would be as ambitious and determined as you.”

The Wind Mage shakes off his own worries and looks at his brother. Seeing his reddened face, whether from laughing or the alcohol poured into himself, he begins to wonder bitterly. Is Asta the same as him? Does he also pretend that nothing affects him, laughing off anything that hits too close to home, the same way he brushes things off, just with the mask of indifference? Does his mouth also always feel full of blood? Does he also have problems with breathing sometimes, as if he choked on something invisible, on something that isn’t even there in the first place? Does he feel crimson droplets spill from his lips, only to fall down further, behind the collar of his shirt, hugging his spine in crushing embrace, smearing across his whole body, as if to remind him that he will never be good enough just being himself?

He looks down, as if in shame, not being able to lie into his brother"s face.

“I guess you’re right, I am incredibly ambitious.”

More like really hollow and greedy for anything that would make me feel satisfied and worthy of being loved.

***

It’s been a couple of weeks since they all came back from the raid on the Spade Kingdom. To say that each of the mages present there on the day they defeated the enemy was exhausted, is an understatement – at last half of them can’t really remember going home due to the tiredness which began to settle in their bones after the adrenaline rush had passed. Among this part of the expedition is Yuno, who if asked in the middle of the night how things went after the battle with Zenon and Lucifero, would be able to name three things he roughly remembers – fighting, meeting his mother and declaring that he would become the Wizard King. To his own surprise, the first thing definitely places last on the list of the most exhausting things he had done that day. 

However, meeting his mother – that definitely drained any resources of energy he had regained after sleeping a few hours after the battle. He has a faint memory of Nacht leading him towards a group of people and Ralph declaring that the woman who stood in front of him was the queen, his mother , but it all somehow faded in his mind, only bits of conversation stuck in his head. Something about explanations, about Clover Kingdom, about other things which are too abstract for him at the moment to be remembered. But, to his own surprise, he recalls his declaration of becoming Wizard King quite clearly and a small part of him wonders if it is Asta’s influence. Maybe his brother’s behavior is rubbing off on him? Maybe some part of him wanted to have him by his side then, even if only in his thoughts?

The very same brother stands on his left side, bent over the kitchen countertop at their home in Hage, peeling potatoes. He seems to be more focused on the task than at fighting the enemy, which is rather admirable, considering  that the potato won’t try to attack him.

Yuno looks at the pile of vegetables they already had dealt with and nudges the absorbed Asta in the ribs. “I think that’s enough for all of us,” he says, already knowing that there will be leftover dinner to eat tomorrow. 

Asta blinks, taking a moment to cast a look at fruits of their labor. He scratches his head with a free hand. “I think you might be right.”

Yuno takes the knife from his brother and goes to wash his hands at the sink. Over the splashing water he can hear Nash coming into the house. 

“I put out the fire, have you finished your job?” he asks, coming closer.

“Yeah, do you need help taking this outside?” He motions towards the pot filled with water and vegetables.

“Nah, I got this.”

The wind mage watches as his younger brother effortlessly takes the pot in his hand and carries it outside. When did his siblings grow up so much? He can still remember them screaming and crying at everything their few years old brains couldn’t understand and after coming back home they suddenly are completely capable and all grown up. Where did all that time go?

He shakes his head. He begins to sound like Father Orsi when it was their turn to receive their grimoires. He should stop. 

Speaking of the devil – Yuno, you are basically at church, stop it already – their foster father and Sister Lily appear in the doorframe, both of them carrying something in their hands. 

“What are those?” he nods towards the items, which after further inspection appear to be boxes.

Sister Lily smiles, opening one for him to see the contents. “The blankets you and Asta sent one day. It’s been too warm lately for them to be used, but we got the feeling that today’s night is gonna be especially cold. We don’t want heroes to catch a cold, don’t we?” she adds playfully, without any bite.

Just as Yuno wants to interject with reasonable arguments about how they were given to them for more free use, Father Orsi interrupts. “Come now, both you and Asta aren’t home often recently, let us celebrate in small ways. Those things are too nice to be lying around the house just like that, so we kept them in the attic for some kind of special occasion.” He has the audacity to wink after that.

The boy sighs, resigned. Asta, however, finds it a little amusing. “Aww, guys! I knew you would be happy to see us some more!” He bares his teeth in a grin, coming closer. 

The nun giggles, fixing her robe. “But we already said that you are always more than welcome to come back here, whenever you want and need it.”

“Don’t overuse it, though,” interjects Recca, carrying plates towards the table. “I like having more space to sleep, without Yuno’s leg nudging me in the sleep all the time.”

Yuno smiles under his breath. He expected it. 

“Recca, that wasn’t nice!” scolds the priest, herding younger kids towards the sink. 

  She just laughs it off, not caring about the reprimand. She never does, anyway, always having a sharp yet not ill-intended tongue.

Sister Lilly claps her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s go to the table and say a prayer, shall we?”

Everyone moves towards the table, taking their respective seats. The oldest boys have to stop for a second, not knowing if theirs are still the same as they used to be. It’s been some time since they all were there together and some things may have changed. The thought that there can no longer be a place for them alone makes his stomach turn. 

Hm , muses the voice in his head, are you maybe worried about this home not being yours? But I already told you that, where does that astonishment come from?

He swallows the bile in his throat. This is going to be a long dinner. 

After a moment of general shuffling around the table, he takes a place between Recca and Aruru. It isn"t where he used to sit, this place is occupied by Nash, but he decides to ignore it; after all, kids grew up, it is only normal for them to need more space to sit. He takes both of their hands as Father Orsi begins the prayer.  

No matter how hard he tries, Yuno’s mind can’t focus on the words; they sound as if someone is saying them from under the water. He’d never been religious in the first place, despite growing up at church, so he can’t bring himself to pay attention that much. Instead, his gaze wanders to the three grimoires laying at the table near the vestibule. All three of them are laid on top of each other, and none of them is what could be called standard. Four-leaf, for good luck. Five-leaf, for a demon. And a spade, for someone who doesn"t know where his home is and if there is one for him. 

He feels uneasiness climb up his spine, clutching his ribcage without mercy. Suddenly there isn’t enough space between each person at the table, everyone sits suffocatingly close. He wants to let go of the hands he holds, stand up and go out to breathe fresh air, away from there. But he doesn’t. Instead, he tightens his grip, careful not to hurt them. He can"t ruin the supper just because his mind is fucked up and apparently has his own, independent opinions.

He counts to ten and back until the prayer ends and then he can let go of little hands without any remorse. He reaches for a bowl of roasted potatoes and puts some on his plate, busying himself with anything.

Beside him, Nash coughs, stabbing vegetables on his plate mindlessly. “What have you guys been up to lately? Why go to Spade?”  Despite the indifferent tone, Yuno clearly senses a certain dose of curiosity in his voice.

At that, Asta perks up. “We were fighting some bad guys and rescued some people! It was also super cool, there were demons and, and we had to save our captains, and people from Heart helped us and–”

“Asta, you have to breathe when you talk,” sighs Recca, taking the bowl from Yuno.

“–and all the Bulls fought together, and everyone was so cool!” he exclaims with his mouth full, gesturing lively.

He takes a longer pause to think what to say next, but Father Orsi interrupts, a bit pale. “D-demons? Like, real-real demons? What they wrote in the newspaper was true?”

Asta looks at him, blinking. “You mean that article about my trial and so on?” 

Priest only nods his head, stunned.

“Then yeah, it’s  really true but don’t worry, Liebe is totally cool and totally not like other devils,” he declares with a bright smile. After a second, he winces. “He is kinda mean, though, but also kind!”

The older man seems only half-convinced, but decides to drop the topic. “If you say so…”

Yuno can bet thousands of yuls on the fact that tomorrow there would be more containers filled with holy water at church and some around the house. And maybe an additional daily prayer, just as a precaution. 

“And you, Yuno, how did you like Spade?” asks Sister Lily, with a smile, and the mentioned boy has to bite his tongue, because his mind hears something quite different.

How did you like your home?

The thing is, he has no idea. He can’t form a proper opinion about it, not when the majority of his time there was spent on fighting, getting bloody, avenging his friends and overcoming enormous pain after his losses. He has a difficulty with looking at it as something different than another battlefield, where he had to do what he had to do, without getting overly attached. But, at the same time, being there sparked his curiosity about some things, about who he really is and what it means in the long run. Meeting his mother and getting a second grimoire… It did things to him, in some way and it is pointless to deny it.

He swallows the contents of his mouth. “Good, I guess. A little too cold, though.”

“That’s it?” Nash snorts, looking a little taken aback.

Yuno contemplates for a bit. He doesn’t want to tell them about what Zenon did to his squad prior to events in Spade, about how their beloved brother laid pinned to the ground with bones, almost dead, beside bodies of his comrades; about his desire to destroy and kill the one who did this, to have his revenge; about how he couldn’t feel satisfied with what he had done to Zogratis, how no amount of blood and pain and suffering would satisfy his need to hurt him for what he did to him and his family. They don’t need to hear it – they are still young and hopeful and believe that things like that don’t happen often, if at all. As an older brother, he has to protect this belief.

He drinks a few gulps of water, feeling his throat getting dry. 

“Oh, I forgot – the stars look beautiful in the night sky there.”

Soft sigh escapes his mouth as he turns to his other side. Many months of sleeping in a comfortable bed makes it hard to do so on the floor peacefully and results in him waking up constantly at various moments at night. Racing thoughts also aren’t helpful, his mind constantly feels like it tries to outrun itself, burn itself or do whatever it takes to overheat itself and die . Is it due to recent events or the fact that he finally has some peace and his own organism took it upon itself to get preoccupied with something that wouldn’t let it go into the dormant state, he wouldn’t know. What he knows, however, is that he could really use some well-deserved rest before coming back to the base and dealing with all the bureaucracy and other unpleasant duties that await him.

He opens one eye and glances at the sleeping figures of his siblings next to him. Their chests are slowly rising in a steady rhythm, accompanied by barely audible snores escaping their mouths. All of them seem to be unbothered by anything, half-buried under the blankets and immersed in undisturbed slumber. He wishes they could stay like that as long as possible – warm, content, safe .

He sits up slowly, trying not to wake anyone. He has to wiggle his leg out from under Recca’s leg gently, noting to himself to tell her that it"s in fact her who nudges him in sleep. He will certainly mention it to her once the occasion occurs. He looks at his siblings one more time, making sure all are asleep before fixing their blankets and standing up. 

He approaches the door on tip-toes, praying silently that they won’t creak. After successfully reaching the corridor without causing any noise, he exhales in relief. He blinks a few times, adjusting his eyes to the darkness in the vestibule. He scans the room, looking for his boots. He finds them and puts them on along with his cape for additional warmth, noticing all the lights are off. Good , he thinks. He wants to be alone for some time. 

Heading for the exit door, he stops in hesitation and considers taking his grimoire. Will he need it? Is there anything to fear out there?

 Yuno shakes his head. Paranoia is making itself felt, but he won’t let the intrusive thoughts win. He is safe here, after all. 

After closing the door behind him, he takes a breath of fresh, night air. It tickles his lungs, almost painfully, but he is content with it; there isn’t anything wrong with feeling the most basic life function, after all – if anything, it is a good sign. He is still alive.

He bites his lip, not knowing what to do next. He can’t just stand like an idiot in front of the house – if someone saw him, they could think he is a robber or something worse. His eyes scan the closest area, looking for a place he can hide himself a little. The small church on the hill is an obvious option, but he doesn"t have a better alternative. He fixes his unruly hair, puts the hood on and heads in the right direction. 

The church in Hage isn’t anything like the ones in the city – it is way smaller, more cozy and definitely older. Or at least in worse condition. The roof had been fixed many times in the past with a little budget they had and the cross on top of it looks like it can fall off any minute, but still Father Orsi and Sister Lily prides themselves in it. 

He touches the door handle, surprised when he pushes the door open with ease – usually at this hour they are closed, since no one can look after the church. He’d never been to one in the capital, but he is pretty sure that what he sees in front of him is way more modest. There aren’t any stained-glass windows or sophisticated sculptures he saw in the city; instead, simple wooden pews stand in the nave in two rows, an old dark-green carpet between them. On each wall hung are sparse paintings of some saints he still can’t really name, alongside candles attached to the walls, some of them lit and casting shadows across the area. Few meters further is a chancel, with an altar, which is the most illuminated part of the room, making the pulpit and the table with a white cloth and a candle holder clearly visible. The only place he can’t see from where he stands is the sacristy, but it doesn’t matter, since he decides to take a seat somewhere in the middle of a nave. 

The pew creaks under his weight, the sound echoing in the empty room. He leans over the backrest of the one before him, letting his head touch the cold wood. He breathes a sigh of relief. There isn’t anyone here to see him; he can let himself loose a bit. He doesn’t bother with a short prayer or anything similar, it wouldn’t make sense for him to suddenly care about those things just because otherwise it would be rude. Fixing his gaze on a painting of a God on the wall across from him – he suspects it is a God, or maybe Jesus, he wouldn’t know anyway – he begins to think.

He is glad to be home. He is eternally grateful for being given time to spend with his family, to sit with them at the same table and listen to their stories and concerns. As much as he thrives while being the Magic Knight, he can’t fight the feeling that in recent times it has become a rather stressful environment. Not that he didn’t expect it or dares to complain -- he simply feels out of place at the base, with many more empty rooms and quieter evenings. Which shouldn’t happen; it is also his home, after all. His other family lives there, sharing their joys and sorrows with him. 

The deeper hole he digs in his brain, the less he knows. Can it be the price he pays for his greed?  For having more than one place where he can love people? For never being satisfied with what he is given? First, two souls, then two grimoires, and now two homes. When will his avarice end? 

Technically, as of now, he has three homes, if he counts Spade Kingdom.  However, he doesn"t even want to consider it longer than the seconds it takes for his brain to suggest it. Yes, he has a whole bloodline history and a mother there which he was so glad to meet, especially since he had always considered himself an orphan. But it isn’t easy to adjust to it right off the bat. Those are things for which he needs a lot of time to process and to know what to do with them. He doesn"t want to be cruel, but he thinks he deserves to be a bit bitter about it. 

The silence is interrupted, as he hears quiet rustling coming from behind the sacristy, later joined by the rhythmic footsteps. Judging by the sound, it is likely two people. He perks up, squinting his eyes to see better. To his surprise, he is met with his caretakers. Both of them are walking down the small stairs leading towards the nave, each of them with a broom in a hand. When they come closer, they notice him and stop in their tracks.

“Yuno! What are you doing here at that hour! Are you alright?” Father Orsi accelerates his step, coming closer, worry clearly painted on his face.

Before he has a chance to answer, Sister Lily also begins to question him. “Did something happen?”

Yuno shakes his head. “Everything’s fine. Just…couldn’t sleep.” He is quiet for a second, before he adds: “Others are also okay, they are sleeping, so don’t worry.”

They both look relieved to hear that, judging by sagging arms of Father and a quiet sigh escaping sister’s mouth. However, they were always people who showed their care in their actions.

Sister sits down next to him, watching his face. “We can go to the kitchen and I will heat you up some milk. It helps with sleeping,” she offers, nodding in the general direction of the house.

The boy has to crack a smile at that. She used to do it when he and Asta were little and had problems with sleep, either due to nightmares or growing pains. To know that she still considers him young enough to benefit from that feels somewhat amusing.

He doesn’t notice when, but Father manages to walk around the row of benches and takes a seat on his other side. He puts his hand on the one of his foster son and leans forward slightly. “We can also sit here some more if you want.”

“And talk if you need it,” adds the nun quickly, taking his other hand.

If this happened a few years earlier, by now his eyes would definitely water. But it didn’t, so he has to swallow the emotions which threaten to escape his throat and collects himself. He won’t cry in front of his family. The gentleness and care in their voices turns out to be a bit overwhelming after being away from home for so long, but in every positive sense of that word. It feels like a loving embrace of strong arms or a heavy blanket surrounding his entire body, like permission to stop crushing his own emotions in a steel grip. But he simply can’t, something won’t let him.

He avoids their eyes, focusing on the intertwined hands instead. Oh, how he would love to have more than just two, to have one for each person he holds dear. He could show them that he loves them, without saying it out loud; he was never good at saying what he felt, without words changing their meaning once they left his mouth, even if just a bit.  Caring about people that openly, when one was not afraid to admit it clearly, is scary. There is this ever-present worry that someone or something could use all the love and care they give and hurt their loved ones, just to make a person suffer. He also suspects it is one of the most painful ways to scar someone; he doubts there are more heartbreaking things than watching someone destroy people one swore to protect and cherish. So he hopes, silently, that if he pushes his loved ones far enough, if he doesn"t shower them with all the love he has in store for them, if he is cold enough and make people feel like they don’t mean to him more than the whole world itself, he will be able to spare them eons of useless agony. 

But maybe, just maybe , there are moments when he can hold them a bit closer.

“Can we sit here for a bit, please?” he asks, feeling like a little boy who begged for them to leave the lit candle in the children"s room, terrified of the dark.

And just as on those days, that time his wish is also granted. Both of his caretakers nod their heads. 

“Do you also want to talk?” asks Sister Lily once again, and Yuno begins to wonder if she can see right through him and knows what is troubling him. 

He winces. “Honestly, I don’t know? I feel like I should, but…” he trails off, poking the backrest of the pew in front of him with a point of his shoe. He takes a calming breath. “I don’t know if I can, if that makes sense.”

She hums, pondering his words. “I think it does. But I don’t think it’s about being able to do it, but about knowing how to begin after so long without doing so.” 

He considers her words. The thing is, he has a lot of things to talk about, and a lot of points from which he can start. He just has no idea if any of them should be said out loud, if any of his concerns are serious and important enough to be brought to the daylight at all. 

Yuno is silent for a moment. Maybe she is right, maybe words will come if he begins. “I… I feel weak and tired,” he starts clumsily, not knowing which part of his brain he should prod for the right words. 

Father Orsi raises his brows, but doesn’t say a word, nodding for him to continue. 

“I mean, I know that I am not weak per se, but the feeling is still there, you know? It’s more like” – he licks his lips, feeling them getting dry –“I am still not strong enough to do what I have to do properly. And that is exhausting itself.” He looks at the priest, looking for traces of understanding in his features. 

The older man nods, carefully choosing his next words. He strengthens his grip on Yuno’s hand. “ And… What is that thing you have to do properly? Can you name it for us?” he smiles warmly, wrinkles around his eyes becoming more prominent. 

Young mage’s eyes go wide. Isn’t that part obvious? 

“I am not strong enough to protect everyone. And I can’t do many things on my own and it drives me mad. Because, I should, right? That’s what I should be able to do.” 

“What makes you say that?” asks Sister Lily, a worry in her voice prominent. 

He shrugs. “I don’t know, I think because I have capability to do so? I have strong magic, I am a magic knight, vice-captain at that, many people believe in me… That should be enough of a reason, right? Because people need me to be strong, expect it from me, and it seems like I failed them,” he reasons. “It’s like being a rich philanthropist, but not giving people money – that’s stupid. If you are in a more beneficial position, you should help, it’s a duty.”

Sister fixes the cross on her neck with a free hand, digesting his words. “Have you thought for a second that it’s okay to let yourself be weak sometimes? Instead of trying to stop feeling weak, accept it and move on? It’s also part of you, that’s how I feel.”

“There’s no shame in needing others" help, you know?” adds Father Orsi, sitting more comfortably, without letting go of Yuno’s hand. “I don’t think anyone can do everything on their own, to be honest. Hm, maybe God, but it’s the only case and we are all human, you know? So there’s no shame in that.”

Yuno bites the inside of his cheek. It is so easy to say for them. They didn’t see the dead bodies of his friends laying on the ground. They didn’t regret not being able to fight someone who hurt their family. 

Hm, that’s interesting – I think you are being more cruel to them right now than I was  ever to you , muses the voice in his head, mildly surprised.

Shut up, I am not.

Giggling fills his skull. Are you sure about that?

He exhales slowly, not wanting to dive into his messed up head at the moment. It would be weird with people beside him. 

“I’d like to accept it, believe me. But… It’s hard.”

 Especially with so many people thinking he should not need help just because I have a four-leaf grimoire. As if that made me untouchable, invincible or something.” He wrinkles a piece of his cape in his finger. “As if everything were easy because of it. It’s alienating, somehow.”

“I can only imagine that it must be hard for you,” assures Sister. “But at the end of the day the people who love you – me included – know that’s not the case. I believe they also see hard-working, ambitious Yuno, who does his best, but still needs help and care sometimes. Just like others.” She smiles brightly, nudging him in the ribs playfully. 

The corners of his mouth raise in a delicate smile. It still surprises him how safe and comfortable an atmosphere they can create for him, to make him feel like talking about his feelings and thoughts at all. But it shouldn’t be so shocking –  they know him the longest, don’t they? 

He looks up at the painting of the God, once again. He watches it in silent wonder, thinking about how alienating that must be. He can’t imagine being that much above other living beings. Being a God suddenly seems cruel to him – who would like to be above all existence, alone? And not doing so because of necessity, but because of one’s very own will? No human could ever endure that.

But in some way, he feels a little like a God. Not that he seriously thinks of himself better than others, it is just the fact that some people tend to act or speak this way because of his abilities and his stupidly huge sense of duty. And it is heartbreaking, because great beings are not loved or cared for, but they are worshiped with certain religiousness, which is a tragedy itself. Just thinking about it makes Yuno’s stomach clench. 

“Hey,”—  he begins, swallowing the spit in his mouth, — “do you think you can love and worship someone at the same time? Or is it mutually exclusive?”

Silence fills the room. He expected it, after all it was a rather unorthodox question to ask, but he has to know the answer. 

After a few beats, Father Orsi clears his throat. “I think it depends on your definition of both those words. Personally, I think it takes a lot of love to worship someone, but love itself is a form of worship. Many probably wouldn’t agree, but luckily we have a freedom of speech in this country,” he laughs at the end. 

Sister Lily hums. “‘I got the feeling that love is more personal and a kind of closer form of bond. There’s some distance arising from the respect, but in love you want to be as close as possible.” She taps her cheek. “But as Father says, I think it’s very subjective.”

Yuno nods. He still needs some time to understand what that really means for him and what are his thoughts about it, but somehow their explanations make the topic a bit lighter –  he probably  overcomplicated something again. Maybe those two things aren’t really that different and he is paranoiac.

 “Thank you, I will think about it,” he says, not wanting to offer them only silence.

Again, he feels as both his hands are squeezed harder. Words aren’t needed.

“Is that the only reason why you couldn’t sleep?” asks Sister, glancing at him pointedly.

Yuno winces once again. Is Sister Lily secretly an all-knowing witch and they don’t know about it or is he really so easy to read for them?

Sigh escapes his mouth. Since he started talking, he might as well say it all. 

“It feels weird to sleep here after so long; it’s lively and so nice here, as always after all,” he adds quickly, not wanting to sound weird. “But I think I weaned myself off it all, I am feeling a little unfit here, but at the same time I feel like that everywhere now.” He looks at people beside him, making sure they are not disgusted by his words, but they listen attentively, so he continues: “And I feel stupid for it because you always welcome us so warmly here and I still feel alien, despite your efforts.” 

To his surprise, Sister Lily giggles at that. Met with his bewildered gaze, she explains.  “Sorry for laughing, but I used to be the same when I left my home. I mean, nobles were way worse than any of your homes, but you know, home is home, right?” She clears her throat before continuing. “So, when it happened and I came here, I found it hard to acclimate, not used to the conditions and ways of living in such a small village. But after months of being here, it got as easy as breathing. And when I came back home for a bit… “ She doesn’t finish the sentence, the laugh at the end being an answer of its own. 

“You couldn’t find your place there? A place you called home was foreign to you?”

She nods, lacing their fingers together. “What I am getting at, is that it’s completely natural to feel different at each of your homes. Because it’s also normal to have more than one, mind you. What is helpful is understanding that at each place you are quite a different person. For me, at home I was Lady Lily Aquaria, the daughter of my father, and here I am Sister Lily, you see the difference?” She barks out a short laugh. “I don’t think Sister Lily could feel good there or the other way around.”

That is a surprisingly good comparison, in his opinion. The one he can definitely relate to. After all, in all of his homes he plays different roles. All of them can only use one role each – Hage doesn"t need vice-captain Yuno, Golden Dawn wouldn’t benefit from Prince Yuno and Spade has no use for older brother Yuno. He has specific roles for each of these places, and maybe sorting it out in his head would be for the better. 

“I think our cases are very similar,” he huffs something akin to laugh. “I also don’t think kids would appreciate vice-captain Yuno training with them,” he makes an attempt at a dry joke.

“We could give it a try,” suggests the priest, his voice laced heavily with sarcasm, making everyone laugh.

The wind mage wrinkles his nose; he can already feel Recca’s feet kicking him purposely at night and Nash accidentally making his bowl of soup super hot. He will pass. 

Sister Lily looks around, gripping her broom with free hand. “Are you ready to go? It’s late, and we would like you to get some sleep tonight if that"s possible.”

That is a good question. Is he? Can he stand up and come back to his room, knowing the lingering weight of everything he didn’t say? Despite all his worries confessed a moment before, there is still something inside him that wants to get out at all costs. Only then he can look them in the eyes with the peace in his heart. 

But what is left to confess aren’t worries anymore; those are sins as far as he is concerned and he doesn"t know if he feels brave enough to say them out loud without trembling in his voice, without tears spilling from his eyes and demons clawing at his chest. 

He stands up somewhat shakily, as a cue for them to go. They all leave the row of pews and walk down the nave to the exit. With every step, Yuno feels the courage leaving his body, alongside the patience to wait for his moment to speak up. He inhales deeply.

If the other two of his concerns were met with such warmth and care, why wouldn’t this one? 

He clenches his fists, looking his caretakers straight in the eye and stops before the entrance of the church. “I like men,” he blurts out, not sure if he can be understood, but it doesn’t matter; he wants to get it out of the system. 

The silence that comes after his words is deafening; he can easily hear his own heart rattle in his chest, the whistling of the wind outside and even the flickering blazes of the candles. Everything is blurred and vivid at once, he can’t focus any of his senses, everything becomes a mixture of random stimuli. 

He swallows the bile in his throat. What has he done? He knows that it isn"t the right thing to feel, that it isn’t smart to feel attraction to men – everyone knows that, it is even written in the Bible. But it is how he feels, he can’t change it – he tried . He can’t change the fact that he just won’t like back any girl that likes him, or that sometimes he glances at some men for too long. As much as he teases Asta about his crush on Noelle being unbearable, he would love to live through it himself; to experience it himself, with some pretty girl in his thoughts, instead of the everpresent guilt surrounding his almost non-existent lovelife. 

His vision becomes blurry, but no tears fall. If they do, it will be the first time in the last few years that he cries.

“Oh dear,” says someone, and quick steps can be heard. Almost instantly he feels two pairs of arms embrace him in a clumsy hug, holding him closely.

“It’s alright.” The voice of Sister sounds somewhere over his head. A hand comes up to comb through his hair. “It’s okay, you’re okay, alright?”

The sound that escapes his throat reminds him of a dying fox he once saw near the forest, but he can’t force himself to care. Especially since he feels a little as if he is going through a small death himself. He clings closer to them.

Father Orsi hums, squeezing his hand. “Don’t cry, that doesn’t change anything-”

“But-” Yuno wants to protest, but is interrupted:

“It doesn’t, you are still the child we raised, we are proud of you and we care about you and support whatever you do.” Father’s tone leaves no room for arguing.

Yuno’s arms shake against two other bodies, not being able to stop the tremble. He swallows thickly, letting a single tear fall down on the nun’s robe.

“Besides, there’s nothing wrong with loving, it’s a beautiful thing and you should know it by now.”   

He can’t tell anymore what is the reason for his crying. The stress leaving his body? The relief that came with saying those words? The overwhelming amount of love he is given without any hesitation and conditions? Either way, it feels right to let himself cry after such a long time.

He takes a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he whispers, barely heard even for his own ears.

Maybe it was his brother that shook a hand with a devil, but in some sense he feels that he did that, too. 

***

 He was late, again.

He flew as fast as he could, as fast as his wind would let him. He could feel the air cutting his skin with freezingly cold blasts, but it wasn’t enough.

They all were dead.

He stopped, stunned at the view before him. The bodies of his squad mates laid everywhere he looked; under the tree, next to the entrance to the destroyed base and next to his feet. He couldn’t recognize some faces, drenched in blood. Some were missing limbs. And a few he could name, because they looked as if they were just sleeping, exhausted after a long and especially tiring mission; so peaceful in a place that looked as if a tornado passed by.

He felt the growing lump in his throat as he automatically moved through the area. It didn’t get better from there; in fact, the further he wandered, the more horrendous images he witnessed. The stench of iron in the air got so heavy he had to force himself not to gag. It filled his nose, lungs and suffocated him. The residuals of captain’s magic could be felt in some places, but not strong enough to mean anything good, not enough to light a spark of hope which would make everything more bearable. 

The dryness in his throat made it hard to breath by the time he reached the main door leading inside. With shaky hands he pushed them open, and it took all his willpower to not pass out right then and there.  

A chilling image appeared before his eyes. Few meters before him stood a familiar towering figure, with his back against him. The spade symbol embroidered on the robe seemed to stare at him tauntingly, as if to remind him the reason for his delay.  From the person’s body grew unnaturally long bones, stretched across the entire area. When his sight followed after them, near their ends he saw  more bodies of his friends, impaled on them. The blood seeped from their wounds, slowly falling down in a steady rhythm, forming a large pool on the usually pristine floor. He looked up to see who were the ones hurt so badly, and almost instantly regretted his decision. The ones dying before his very own eyes were his dearest friends – Mimosa and Klaus. Their eyes shut tightly from pain, mouths stretched in a grimaces, red liquid smeared across their entire silhouettes. Upon the girl"s feet he could spot withered roses, black and red, entirely soaked in red, not at all like beautiful creations of her magic. 

“Guys…?” he whispered,  hating himself for sounding so pathetic and scared. 

To no one’s surprise, he didn’t receive any answer from them. Not even a movement of a head or a groan – almost as if they were already dead. 

The anger bubbled in his veins. Seeing red, he turned towards Zenon, readying himself to fight, to make him pay for what he did to his family. However, when their eyes met, the want ceased as fast as it lit, replaced with  a chilling anxiety. His pupils dilated once he saw the same Zenon he observed a few seconds earlier, but this time not with his back turned to him. Instead, he stood with his profile clearly visible, but with no emotion to decipher on the face lost in thought. His unwavering sight was fixed entirely on the small fire lit before him, one Yuno could swore wasn’t there earlier. Instead of throwing the pieces of wood to maintain the fire, he reached towards the sizable pile of bones – human bones – and threw one into the flames, previously breaking it in half.  

The boy felt sick at the thought of whose bones these were, since their appearance wasn’t similar to the man’s magic attribute -- they were too real, too natural. 

Zenon interrupted his thinking process by humming low. “You were late, vice captain. What a shame,” he sighed, looking the boy straight in the eyes. “Maybe if you were doing your job correctly, they would still be alive.”

Yuno opened his mouth in protest, wanting to scream that he was wrong, that it was not like that at all, but stayed silent instead. How could he deny something that was true? Should he lie to himself, just to make himself feel better in the eye of such a tragedy? 

  “Look at you,” said Zenon, stepping closer. “You can’t even help yourself. How could you ever keep anyone else safe?” He motioned towards dead bodies scattered outside.

Yuno blinked in surprise, not knowing what the other man meant. After a second, he looked down at himself and couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped his throat. His entire uniform and cape were drenched in dark blood. Some was smeared across his hands, and some was seeping from the huge wound in his stomach.

“But’-” he began, unable to finish his thought as the bubbling blood spilled from his mouth, cutting him off. It fell down in a crimson cascade, mixing with that of his companions in a horrendous painting on the floor.

“It’s their blood on your hands, you know?”

He felt the stinging tears in his eyes as he collapsed on the cold floor. As he fell, the only thing he could think of were countless apologies for things he had done and never had a chance to say. He caught the last blurry sight of his friends and closed his eyes. When his body finally hit the ground, he prayed that everyone he ever loved died without unnecessary pain and at peace. 

His eyes shoot open  and  he hauls himself to a sitting position, taking rapid, ragged breaths. His entire rib cage hurts as if someone squeezed it in an iron grip, crushing his ribs one by one. Blinking, he scans the entire room, looking for the remnants of the nightmare, making sure that it wasn’t real, that it was just a sick imagination of a fever dream. Noticing only scattered across the table documents and toppled hanger he didn’t bother to pick up the previous night, he breathes a sigh of relief. Everything seems to be normal, just as he left it. 

Breathing out, he lets himself fall down onto the cushions with a thud and closes his eyes. Yet another night was interrupted by an unwanted nightmare, by even more bloody visions. It’s been like that for a couple of weeks, even though it feels like eternity, like something that will never come to an end. He considers going to the doctor, hoping Owen could get him something that would cease this madness, or to Mimosa; he is pretty sure she will know some plants or herbs that have properties he needs for normal sleep. Even if for a single night.  

Realistically, though, he knows that he won’t do anything with it. He would rather keep torturing himself with that, hoping it would go or fade away. 

When drilling holes into the ceiling with his gaze and counting sheeps doesn’t help falling asleep, he decides that it is enough sleep for a night – even if it will hurt the next day – and he can as well go train some more. But coffee first. 

Not bothering to change from the pajamas, the mage quietly puts on warm slippers and slips out of the room, trying not to bump into any furniture. Once he finds himself on the other side of the door, he takes a moment to adjust his sight, not wanting to fall down the stairs or collapse in the middle of the corridor. 

Skipping down the stairs, Yuno hopes that everyone else is fast asleep; bumping into any of them at what he thought was a late hour would be rather awkward. When he reaches the ground floor, he feels shivers run down his spine, uneasiness seeping into his bones. As if someone stood behind him, whispering into his ear, gently reminding him about what had happened with a glee in the voice.

Oh, right. Of course. 

The boy swallows thickly, feeling sudden dryness in the clenching throat. He turns around and dashes up the stairs, mindful of the noise. His steps speed up as he goes, forcing himself not to run down the hall.

 After a few seconds, he reaches the right door. As quiet as possible, he pushes them open, revealing a bedroom bathed in darkness. The only thing that makes it possible to see the inside through the crack in the door is a light of the moon seeping through the ajar window. On the illuminated side stands a bed, with one person occupying it. He notices Klaus’ chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, soft sighs escaping his mouth once in a while. His features appear more youthful, without glasses and furrowed brows he often shows. To Yuno, he looks peaceful, as if his sleep is something that actually gives him comfort and provides rest, which couldn’t make the vice captain more glad.   

He smiles, closing the door as quietly as he can. His worry from a few moments earlier ceases a little, making it a tad easier to breathe. But just a little. 

He resumes his steps, after a while reaching Mimosa’s door. To his surprise, before he can put his hand on the door’s handle, he hears some noises from behind the entrance to her room. With a raised brow, he considers his next moves. Barging there would be odd, considering the hour, but something inside him screams that he has to check if his friend is alright, if she is safe. 

He huffs a breath of air, knocking on the wood. The noises stop, and a few seconds later he hears the sound of the key turning in a lock. When they open, his eyes meet with those belonging to the girl.

She is standing on the threshold, still dressed in her green nightgown. Her hair looks a bit like a bird nest, distracting him from the eyebags she sports. After all, he isn’t the only one plagued  by nightmares. 

He feels a pang in his chest, only thinking about how she must have felt with everything that has been going on lately. Suddenly he feels like a bad person for not noticing it earlier, too occupied by his own thoughts and concerns. As her friend, he realizes he failed.

Mimosa snaps him out of his thoughts. “What happened, Yuno?” Her eyebrows furrow in worry.

The boy only shakes his head. The last thing he wants to do is to make her worry at such an hour. 

“No, no, just-” Yuno makes some meaningless move with his right hand, weighing his next words. “I heard some noises and wanted to check if everything was alright.” 

Technically, he didn’t lie, only the order of his thinking was a bit different. 

“I couldn’t sleep, so I made myself some tea, but I knocked one mug from the table”, she admits, fixing her hair. “I wanted to clear the remnants but some fell under the bookshelf and…” she trails off, motioning behind herself. 

If he stretches out his neck, he can actually see the moved furniture. He turns his gaze towards Mimosa again, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

“I will come tomorrow and move it back, don’t overexert yourself, okay?” He takes a step back, putting the distance between them. “I hope the tea will work and you get some sleep.”

He turns in the direction of the kitchen, but is stopped by Mimosa’s voice.

“Yuno, will it be alright? Can it even be alright?” 

The boy bites his cheek, stopping in his tracks. He knows exactly what she means; he himself wonders about it, searching for answers to these questions. But it isn’t him and his head anymore – others are also looking for answers, and he would rather die than to leave them with empty hands. 

Yuno looks back at Mimosa still standing in the entrance to her room. This time he notices the lack of slippers on her feet. She must be cold , he thinks. 

“It’s not alright yet,” he admits, his voice barely above the whisper, with all gentleness he can muster. “But it will be. It has to be. Goodnight, Mimosa.” 

He does not wait for an answer, too afraid to have this conversation with her. It needs to wait for tomorrow, when he won’t be feeling like he can combust any minute now with anxiety and restlessness

He accelerates his steps, taking note of the quiet voice bidding him goodnight as he goes. He decides that the next day he will go to her and actually talk. He knows that in recent months they didn’t spend much time alongside each other, but he would like to let her know that she still has a friend in him, no matter the distance that was put between them. 

Upon reaching the kitchen, he relaxes his muscles a bit, already sensing that his very desired coffee is really close. In the dark, he finds some candles in the drawer he bumped into while entering. He lits one of them and the flame flickers to life. He puts it into the candle holder that always lies beside the candles and turns in the direction of the pot they use to warm up the water. 

“The water is still hot, I just made tea,” sounds the voice behind him.

Startled, Yuno spins around, almost getting dizzy with the speed. There, at the table, sits Langris. Dressed in what the younger boy assumes is his pajamas, with a cup of steaming liquid in one hand, he looks as if it is a normal occurrence for him to stay up in the kitchen in the middle of the night. 

“What are you doing here?” asks the wind mage, reaching for the cup from the cabinet.  

 Langris snorts. “Last time I checked the kitchen was for communal use. Unless something changed since you took my position,” he wonders, the tease clear in his voice. 

Yuno rolls his eyes, glad the older boy can’t see it. “No, it’s still the same here”.

If you won’t count the abundance of freshly empty bedrooms, of course. 

Younger of the boys decides against drinking coffee, seeing only residuals of it in the can. It will be more useful in the morning. Instead, he opens the cabinet filled with different kinds of tea. To be frank, when he came to the Golden Dawn for the first time, he thought that people here were a tad bit obsessed with these dried leaves. However, a few months later he must have admitted that he understood the hype –  some teas really taste as if he drank nectar from gods. 

“What are you drinking?” he asks, not in the mood for choosing himself.

“Chamomile, it’s good.”

Yuno only shrugs in response, deciding that he can as well drink that. Not that he ever tried it; he much prefers to stick to his usual white tea.

He puts some flowers into the cup and adds some water, the steam from the kettle hitting him right in the face. Wrinkling his nose, he turns around in the Langris’ direction, waiting for the drink to brew properly. 

Leaning against the counter, he takes a proper glance at the former vice-captain. To an unknowing eye it could appear that there isn’t anything out of order happening with the spatial mage, that he is only getting a drink late at night, or maybe the sleep just couldn’t come. But Yuno knows how to differentiate between the faces filled with tiredness and those which wear the remnants of plaguing nightmares like unwanted armor. He wonders when it started; if their sleep isn"t peaceful for the same reasons, if neither of them wants to entrust somebody with what haunts them in the dark.

"You are staring, you know?" 

His eyes snap to the other man"s face, shaking off his thoughts, noticing his brow raised in clear amusement. 

“Last time I checked it wasn’t forbidden,” he answers with a slight bite to his voice. 

Langris snorts, raising his cup to his lips, sipping some beverage. “So, what brings you here? It’s been some time since I bumped into you at this hour.”  

Yuno has to grimace at that; during his early days at Golden Dawn he had a peculiar habit of sneaking out at night to train or even eat in peace, without disdainful looks thrown his way. And since his beginnings at the base weren’t especially easy and usual, it happened relatively often. Unfortunately, it was usually Langris he was meeting on his way, which didn’t make the beginnings of their relationship easy. 

He crosses his arms over his chest, observing the petals floating in hot water. “Couldn’t sleep, wanted something to drink.”

Spatial mage hums low. “A nightmare, then?” Before Yuno can deny it, he grabs a chair next to him and moves it away from the table, making some space. “Your tea should be ready, take a seat.”

Despite the suspicious hospitality radiating from the older man, he somewhat gladly takes the offer and sits on the chair, placing his mug on the table. He rolls up the sleeves of his pajamas and wraps his hands around the ceramic. After taking a sip, he licks his lips, contemplating the taste. At first he feels the faint flowery sweetines hit his tongue, but after a second he realizes that the bitter aftertaste is there too. He grimaces, which gains another quiet snort from his companion.

“Not a fan?” Langris stands up and approaches one of the shelves, reaching for two jars. He puts them on the table. “Try with that.” 

Yuno curiously gathers them closer, inspecting their contents. Inside he sees dried mint leaves and sugar cubes. Without hesitation he gathers some on the spoon and adds it to a drink. 

“It’s not poisoned, isn’t it?” Yuno stirs his drink, looking him in the eyes.

This time it is Langirs’ turn to roll his eyes. “Not much, just the normal amount.”

“This explains your politeness." He takes another sip. "And the taste.”

“Now I really hope you choke.”

Wind mage smirks into the mug. “Not a chance.”

After the little banter, silence falls in the kitchen. Beside occasional clatter of the spoon used for mixing contents of Yuno’s cup, the only audible sound is the howling of the wind outside the building. However, it isn’t uncomfortable in any way; it feels relaxing, to have another person by one’s side, who knows how it is to not get even an hour of peaceful sleep at night, without uttering a single word. Yuno also has to admit that he finds the presence of the former vice-capitan more bearable after their reluctant partnership a few months earlier. 

He clears his throat, reminded of something. “And you? Why are you here now?” Without looking at his interlocutor, he crosses his ankles under the table.

“Why would I tell you? You didn’t even answer me.” 

“I didn’t protest, you know.”

Langris lips tighten into a thin line. “Similar reasons, I guess.”

Yuno only hums. There isn’t much to say. Not even that much time passed since Zenon’s attack at their base, but he can’t help but feel as if the wounds are still fresh. Just as if he were a dog someone forbade from licking his wounds so they would take longer to heal, or like a child who couldn’t stop scratching his scabs, making them bleed anew, never letting them heal. Or maybe both at once. Either way, he can’t find peace anywhere here; the pain is coming back like a boomerang every time he passes empty halls, with empty bedrooms, empty seats in the canteen. Everything is so agonizingly empty. He wonders if Langris feels the same, if he also is struggling like he does, pretending to not care. 

Once again, the spatial mage interrupts Yuno’s train of thoughts. “Your thinking is really loud and annoying.” He wrinkles the fabric of the shirt on his wrist. “Speak up.”

Before Yuno can stop himself or consider if his question is appropriate – which he never does either way –  he asks: “Do you regret not being there?”

To his surprise, the answer comes instantly: “Everyday.”

Just that. Without any ceremonies or sugarcoating, as if that is the most obvious fact known to a man. As if it is not painful to admit that things went like this and there were not any ways to change the outcome of the situation. 

The wind mage glances at his squadmate, studying his posture. Something seems off about the way his shoulders tense so much that they meet the tips of his ears, about the hands clenching around the handle of a cup with a force that makes his knuckles almost as white as snow; about the way his ankles stay crossed under the table as if to take up less space, to make himself smaller. It strikes Yuno as unusual – despite what he might think of Langris, he would never have thought it possible for him to appear anything but with his head held high and proud, with a straight posture – the perfect image of a knight and vice-captain personified.

A smaller man clears his throat, mindlessly stirring his tea in a steady circular motion. Three times left, four times right. While Yuno waits for him to elaborate, it sounds like the other shoe won’t drop; instead, the silence stretches further, to which he presses:

“Do you think that if you were here…” He bites the inside of his cheek, not entirely sure what in hell possessed him to ask such questions, and Langris in particular, but continues either way: “Do you think things would go differently then?”

Langris still doesn’t utter a single word, however his signature amicable – albeit a bit fake – smile comes over his face. Still staring into the depths of his mug, he shakes his head.

“Honestly?” he begins, turning to face Yuno who realizes that he is holding his breath waiting for an answer. “No. I don’t think one person makes such a difference,” he muses, tilting his head in thought. “While it makes some difference, looking back on how things were then, I think I would become another body lying there, dead. Unless I would be lucky enough to be saved by the captain"s magic, that is.” A small smile graces his lips but disappears as fast as it appeared, replaced by furrowed eyebrows. ”But my mind still tries to make me think otherwise.” 

It is Yuno’s turn to raise his eyebrow. “You wouldn’t. You are strong.”

“They were strong, too,” snaps Langris, his eyes not leaving Yuno’s even for a second. 

“That wasn’t exactly my point-”

“Does your mind do it, too?” interjects the spatial mage, apparently not in the mood for another squabble. 

It takes Yuno a second to understand what he is referring to. He draws a shaky breath and closes his eyes. How to exactly convey what he feels regarding this whole situation — oh, how he hates that word, it does not portray the pain and tragedy behind these events enough — in such few words?   

He nods. “Each time I close my eyes, I see them. There’s constantly this stupid voice in my head telling me it’s my fault and that I was late.”

He does not mention nightmares, letting his eyebags speak for themselves. He is certain the other understands.

Langris contemplates his answer, before simply shrugging his arms. “Then don’t listen to that voice. Tell it to shut up.”

“But I can’t. Besides, it’s right. I should have been there.”

The unimpressed look sent his way at those words is enough to reconsider ever opening his mouth in his direction. But is he really to blame? The inner turmoil this night made him desperate, he would probably talk with anyone willing to listen and offer any words in return. Or even silence – at that, he is at least fluent, words don"t make much sense to him recently. 

“But you weren’t there, Yuno. It"s as simple as that”. Langris no longer holds his cup, his attention solely on his junior. 

“Yes, but—”

“No ‘but’. That’s the end of it.” Something overtakes his face, and for the first time since they started talking Yuno realizes how tired the other one looks, how his eye bags seem visible from where he sits and how not put together he appears. “It’s not like you can do something about it now. Don’t beat yourself too much. You did what you could back then, we all did. It must be enough.” There is some undeniable finality to his words, which sends electricity down Yuno’s spine.

The wind mage fixes his gaze on his palms, clenched into fists on his lap. Part of him wants to argue further, to press some more, maybe make the other man angry or provoke him to admit he is right, but finds out he can’t. Not that he is unable to do so, he could go on the entire night; it just won’t be fair after the patience the other silently offered. 

Then it strikes him.

“I think you were a better vice-captain than me, though.”

Langris sighs in annoyance, massaging his temples. Yuno will never tell him that, but while exasperated he resembles Finral a bit more than usual. 

“Just don’t.”

“Why? Maybe if you were the-”

“No. I decided to pass the position to you –  if you were bad, that would mean I was wrong, and I am never wrong.”

Yuno smirks into his cup and takes a sip, letting his thoughts wander. Part of him wants to ask his comrade what he was doing during his absence back then, what exactly must have happened for him to become this considerate, to find traces of gentleness in himself. Or maybe he was always this way, just a few people allowed to see this side of him. One does not climb this high fueled by hatred and cruelty only, after all. 

He clears his throat and puts the mug down on the table. “Still. I think that no matter how unworthy of being vice-captain you felt then, I don’t approve. The fact is you were damn good at your job, and I don’t care if you think you didn’t deserve that – you had it and it was good, no reason to whip yourself for what happened.” 

Langris mulls over his words for a second, before barking a strained laugh. “Look at you, who would have thought a peasant to be so deep-thinking?”

Yuno just rolls his eyes fondly. Try talking with a noble and not have them mention social status. “You meant royal peasant?” he jokes. 

Langris snorts. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

After that, the silence falls, interrupted only by the ticking of the clock. Looking at the hands of the clock, Yuno can tell that going to sleep will be pointless at this hour. He stands up, collecting empty mugs.

“Want another one?” He motions towards the empty mugs. An olive branch and a silent thank you at once.

“Sure,” the older man shrugs his arms, smoothing out his pajamas. 

Younger of the boys then turns his back on him, reaching for the right jars with tea. While fishing out the dried leaves, he remembers that one time when Father Orsi told them that people in the process of atonement require equal amounts of sternness and gentleness — never more or less of any of them. Being younger he could never really grasp the sense of these words. But now, sitting in the kitchen with someone many consider a villain in some cases, he understands. And Lord, was he right. 

Maybe it is also time to treat himself with a bit more of a gentleness, too. 

***

Their hurried steps echo through the busy hallways as multiple mages pass them with various stages of fright painted on their faces. The tension surrounding them suffocates, so dense that it could be cut with a knife. Despite it, they can’t afford to stop in their tracks once more to reassure yet another member of the squad, to convince them that none among them will fall today – false hope at times like these seem cruel to say the least.

 The bitter realization at the fact how many of familiar faces already vanished from the base, from their lives, hits Yuno like a ton of bricks. He is not the one for the forceful seeking of the sentiments or things he could lament about, but the thought of losing yet another comrade nests in the pit of his belly like river stones forgotten by the current.

He would never dare to say it out loud, too afraid to voice this particular concern in fear of getting misunderstood or mistaken for atrocity, but at times, in the middle of the night when he awoke from yet another nightmare, he came to the conclusion that made him grit his teeth and bite the tongue. Surviving scared him more than dying – nothing caused him to scream his throat raw till it bled or punch the wall repeatedly as effectively as watching everyone go. Death would always cause more heartbreak to those staying, and it took him eighteen years of living to grasp this idea.  

  He takes a calming breath, counting to three and clenches his fist, reminding himself of his job. There is no time for sentiments – today is all about their objective. He spares a glance in William’s direction, who walks by his side in complete silence ever since they left the headquarters. They are supposed to meet other captains and vice-captains in the Royal Capital, nearby the castle and deploy forces according to the plan they established days ago. The walk shouldn’t take more than half an hour, but the silence makes every minute stretch like a chewed out bubblegum. 

That must have affected the usually quiet and collected captain, because he clears his throat. “Nervous?” he asks, trying to sound light and relaxed.

Yuno blinks twice, taken aback by the gentleness of the question. It sounds almost sheepish, as if he first considered its tactfulness before speaking up. 

He hums, kicking the pebble laying on the stony path before him with a point of his shoe. He watches as it rolls a few meters ahead, collecting dust and finally getting stuck in the wet grass. 

“No, captain. I am not,” he mumbles, his eyes never leaving the ground. 

William stays silent for a moment, before putting a hand on vice-captain shoulder, slowing down, but not stopping their march. “I thought so,” he admits with a smile, and for a split second Yuno dares to hope that it is the moment their conversation would end. “However” —  his expression changes; brows furrow and lips press into a thin line — “I hope that you also don’t feel the need to defeat the enemy just by yourself. Naturally, no one expects that from you, either.”

Yuno opens his mouth in protest, wanting to correct his supervisor, but he is ultimately silenced with a raised hand. He slouches and seals his lips, almost biting the tongue in an abrupt process. 

“Saying that” — Vengeance clears his throat, looking for the right words. — “I do hope— No, I trust that you realize some things that come with the amount of power you have.” Wind mage never commented on that fact, but with all the scarring covering the older man’s face, his expressions are always clear to read, they couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.  Like now, looking at his face, something akin to grief presents itself as clear as the sun. “The greater power you possess, the more devastating is realizing that no matter how strong and capable you are, you simply cannot save everyone. Not even you. There will be a day when you get to know that despite that it was you, with all your power and blessing and hard work combined…” He takes a deep breath, squeezing Yuno’s arm in reassurance, as if saying next words pained him. “You still may not be capable of overcoming everything thrown your way.”

Golden eyes expand in shock, breath catching somewhere in the middle of his throat. Yuno squirms under William’s touch, but doesn"t knock his hand off. Something about these words fills him with unknown uneasiness. His palms sweat, clenching around the sleeves of his uniform. He had suspicion where this conversation led, but for his own sake hoped he was mistaken.

“That means you will fail. I am sure you already feel like you did that, and I hope that it made you aware of what I am gonna say now. You will fail again, and again. Not because you are weak — you are not and never doubt it. You will lose just because it happens, no one is invincible. And because of how much of a fight you put, it will hurt a thousand times more. 

“You will be convinced that there was something that you must have or could have done.” He stops and turns towards the boy, only eighteen years old, barely an adult and already carrying such a huge baggage of expectations and ambitions. He looks him in the eye, and Yuno wonders how much of this speech is coming from an older mage’s personal experiences. “But sometimes you can’t do anything. Even gods fall sometimes, if you believe in them. Sometimes odds aren’t in your favor. And that’s that.”

Star mage quietly observes another man. As much as he does not like his words – how much he does not want to believe in them – he knows where they are coming from. Today, nothing is predictable about it. Yes, they are stronger and more united than ever – so are the enemies. They trained, they fought and they prepared – but so did enemies. Not to mention the absence of Asta, of which Yuno is reminded every time he takes a breath — as if someone ripped out a piece of his heart from his ribcage, accidentally piercing his lung, depriving him of oxygen.

He takes a deep breath. “I hear you, captain. I do.” Straightening his back, he makes sure his voice is not shaking in a slightest. “But it won’t come to that. I did not do all that so it can go to waste. I did not tell my family that their brother and child is dead or missing, just to die next.”

He closes his eyes, remembering the reactions of people at church, when he had passed them news about Sister and Asta. He still can hear cries of childrens and sobs of a Father; still can see the pain on the priest"s face. There was even a moment when he wished that it was him that was gone, just so he would not have to forward this terrible message. But that also strikes him as cruel – he can not imagine subjecting Asta to such torture. After all, of them two it is an ash-haired boy who has a bigger and kinder heart; he deserves better than that. 

But Yuno is still very much present in a Clover Kingdom, so he decides to put himself to use the best he can. “I will do my best to protect everyone today. I don’t know what the result will be in the end, but I won’t stop. I will use everything I have to fight for everyone!”  

In the distance they spot the faint outline of a Royal Capital’s gates, leading towards the future battlefield. Silhouettes of other Magic Knight dressed in respective squad robes dance in his vision, mixing into one pile of colours. He crosses his fingers that not too many of them will part with them after today. 

Upon realizing that William stayed silent during his answer, he continues. “I don’t want to see my brother’s death or whatever is happening with him right now go to waste.” He shakes his head, his nails sinking into palm’s flesh, squeezing mercilessly. “For him, for Clover citizens and other Magic Knights, I have to do everything I can.” He closes his eyes, cooling down from his little speech. More quietly, he adds: “I promised Asta years ago. I won"t back down on that and become the Wizard King for him, and no asshole will stop me.”

Soft smile comes over William’s face. “Oh, I know you can do it.” He seems to consider his words carefully before adding: “And I am sure Asta knows that, too.”

Something in Yuno shifts then; he is a little child again, looking as his brother retrieves his pendant for him, fighting tooth and nail for it, just because it is something he cherishes. Looking at the bright smile gracing his face, missing one tooth and bloodied around the edges but still one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen. Making a promise that would keep them tied together, that would push them so far, would help them reach such heights. 

That is why he is here; because he is not a liar, and everything he declared so far is true. 

He will protect all his homes. He will take care of all of his families. 

He will do it as a son, as a brother, as a rival and as a knight. 

Because he does not have to choose just one.

In the close distance he notices captains of the other squads with the rest of their forces. Some look more hopeful than the others, but it does not matter much – they aren’t the kingdom"s first line of defense for nothing, they will pull through regardless. That’s what the Magic Knights just do. 

That’s what he does. 

Because at the base of all his actions lies love, and it’s the love he received that he is going to return. 

Because people have faith in him, and so he is going to have faith in himself.

Because Asta gave him hope, so he will share it with others.

Because luck was on his side, he will become another"s luck. 

He takes a breath and steadies himself. The corner of his lips raises involuntarily. 

“Hey Asta. Come and watch how I am catching up to you, you idiot.”

Gentle gusts of wind can be felt on slightly chilled skin, tousling the boy"s already unruly hair. For the last time, he looks up, glancing at the clumped clouds lazily smudged across the entire area, as if someone had combed through them with careful motions. The sky above Yuno’s head has a beautiful azure shade and he can die in just a few hours, but it does not matter, because at least he knows who he is and what he is fighting for.

Fin.