-
.
Shiro comes to Keith’s school on Wednesday.
They meet at the hangar on Thursday.
On Friday, Keith skips school.
He knows he will get in trouble, he will get a lecture both from the teacher and the headmaster of the orphanage, but he doesn’t care. He takes his father’s hoverbike, that keeps hidden in a local garage, and heads to the desert at the end of the city.
Being there, in the sand and the sunlight, with wind in his hair, is the only moment Keith feels like himself. He smiles as the familiar silhouette of the cottage appears at the horizon. He parks the hoverbike in front of the door.
“Mom? Mom!”
She’s in the garden backwards and she raises an eyebrow at him.
“Haven’t we talked about you skipping school?”
“I know,” he answers, “but this Saturday I can’t come and Sunday it’s too late.”
“Too late for that?” Her lips move in a smart smirk. “You’re happy. What happened?”
“I got a recommendation for the Galaxy Garrison!”
Her face falls. It’s just a second, before she recollects her thoughts and smile. “Come to the house and tell me everything.”
Keith sits at the table as she prepares lunch, telling her about Shiro’s visit. She chuckles at him stealing Shiro’s car, but overall she doesn’t look at him. She keeps herself busy so her face is concentrated into other things.
“I want to go,” Keith finishes.
“I know,” she replies. She sounds exhaust.
They talked and talked in the past about the war, about Voltron and the Blue Lion. His mother comforted him many times about the Blue Lion rejection, but this doesn’t stop Keith from trying. His mother is giving her life hiding, in a planet that doesn’t recognize her existence, and for a good reason.
She wants to keep him safe. Keith isn’t a child anymore; he doesn’t dream anymore about saving the universe with Voltron. He just wants to become better, takes the Blue Lion and let her returns to a place where she doesn’t have to be alone.
“I’m not going to stop you,” she says. “But becoming a space pilot won’t guarantee you to become the pilot of the Blue Lion. Don’t let your hopes up.”
His mother isn’t try to put him down. The lions have consciousness, they choose by themselves, that’s it. “I won’t,” he assures him, “but I still want to become better. To be prepared if… something happens.”
She nods. Finally, she sees at him as she serves lunch and that reassures Keith. She passes a fingers on the magazine Keith brought with him, with Shiro’s photo on it.
“So this is Shirogane, uh?” she asks.
Keith nods. “Best pilot of this generation.”
“Until now.”
***
“Officer Shirogane, a word.”
Shiro frowns. Iverson is there, alongside with Doctor Magellan, the head of the Scientific Department of the Garrison. Shiro hasn’t much in common with him, because they have different field of expertise; still, even if he isn’t the main responsible for the Kerberos Mission, it’s still the superior officer of Sam Holt and there is a possibility they’re still trying to convince him not to go.
“This is about Cadet Kogane,” Iverson specifies, and Shiro’s frowns grows even more.
Keith hasn’t gotten in any trouble recently. His grades are good, and his sim results astonish. Shiro hasn’t worry about him for a long time now.
“Have you see him today?” Magellan asks.
“No,” Shiro replies. “He doesn’t have class with me anymore this year.”
“But he’s your friend.”
Shiro doesn’t like the tone in Magellan’s voice. “I was the one recruiting him.”
Iverson nods. “Officer, Cadet Kogane refused to take a medical test yesterday, he didn’t return to the dormitory and nobody has seen him since.”
Shiro’s face darkness. Keith has no reason to run away. And a part of Shiro believes he wouldn’t have without talking with him first. Nothing of what they’re saying make sense.
“Something happened. I don’t know why, but…”
“It’s fine,” Magellan interrupts him. “Cadet Kogane is still a minor, so he’s under our responsibility. We need to find him first and foremost. If you know something, Officer Shirogane, please tell us.”
“I don’t know anything,” Shiro answers, and he isn’t a lie. He hasn’t see Keith in almost five days, too busy with the test for the Kerberos mission, and Keith has his own lessons and tests. Now he regrets not having looking for him earlier.
“If Cadet Kogane contact you, inform us. We count on you.”
“Of course,” Shiro says, and this time it’s a lie.
***
He doesn’t lie anymore, because Keith doesn’t contact him back. Shiro tries to make some investigation of his own, but there isn’t nothing really to discover. The only lead to Keith is his shakles on the desert and Shiro knows the Garrison is already investigated it. Shiro is disappointed more by Keith not contacting him than Keith’s escape.
And a part of him fears Keith hasn’t escape at all.
He can’t do much but sulking and seeing if he can discover something. He doesn’t expect news coming from Adam. Shiro meets him after one of his classes, and with mixes feeling. The break-up is still to recent, and that brings with him happiness and regrets and anger all together.
“Can we speak?” Adam asks.
“Now?” The answer is too sudden, too angry. He can’t help it.
“It’s not about us.”
Shiro feels the weight from his shoulder disappearing. They are still colleagues, they need to be professional. Shiro wonders if Adam is calm as he shows. A part of him hopes not.
“It’s about Keith.”
Immediately, Shiro lets all his worries about his broken loves story disappears. “They found him?”
Adam shakes his head and he makes a small nod with his head, towards an empty class. They enter and closes the door behind them.
“What is it?” Shiro asks.
“What do you know about Keith’s disappearance?”
“Nothing.” Shiro rolls his eyes. “Did Iverson or Magellan asked you to interrogate me? They hoped I will be open my heart to you?” It’s petty from Shiro’s side, he knows, but he’s too angry to care.
“No.” Adam licks his lips and Shiro realizes that he isn’t calm as he tries to show. “Listen, I came here to help, but if you prefer I can leave.”
“No,” Shiro sighs. “Just… I feel something’s wrong with this entire story.”
Adam nods. “Do you know Keith was supposed to take a drug test the day of his disappearance?”
Drug test are common at the Garrison. They are random, so cadets and students know they can’t lower their guard down and indulge not even in a small amount of cannabis. But Keith… Keith has other vices, like racing with the hoverbike in the middle of the desert. For what Shiro knows, Keith never tried drugs. He cares enough at his well-being not to.
And Magellan… Why would the head of the Scientific Department be so worried about a drugs’ case? And why did him and Iverson tell him a different story, talking about a simple medical test? Something is still off.
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, that’s all I know,” Adam says. “But it makes the entire story different. Keith could escape for not being expelled because of the dugs addiction.”
“Well, he ran away, so it doesn’t really make sense.”
“A drug addicted not always thinks clearly,” Adam reply. “Takashi, if Keith is on drugs, and he’s out there alone, he can be in danger.”
Shiro doesn’t correct him, neither enlightens him of his suspicious. Still, he’s happy Adam is still kind enough to come and talk about it with him.
“Thank you.”
***
Sam is the only person Shiro can ask. Iverson may be on his side, but he’s also too much rigid. He respects rules even if he doesn’t like it. Sam… makes exception. He made one when he refuses to go to Kerberos without Shiro, even if he knows about Shiro’s disease.
He may make a second exception.
So Shiro goes to them and asks straightforward about it. “Why is Magellan so interested in Keith? Even if it’s a drug problem, it shouldn’t be the Scientific Department concern.”
Sam knows, Shiro realizes by the way he twitches a little his lips. “Cadet Kogane didn’t contact you? Be honest with me.”
“No, he didn’t.” Shiro shakes his head. “I’m worried about him.”
Sam nods. “Let me try.”
He leaves him alone in his lab as he calls someone from his office. Shiro can’t hear the words from the outside, but he understands it’s an animate conversation between Sam and the person at the other side of the phone. It tones down at last, and then Sam hangs up.
When he returns to the lap, he takes off his white coat and says to Shiro, “come with me.”
Shiro doesn’t ask but follows. Sam brings him at the very end of the Scientific Department: after that, there are the reserved section. Only people with the higher authorization can access to it. It is understandable, since it is the area where the new technologies are developed and they can’t be make public before they are tested and confirmed effective and not dangerous. They take the glass lift to go downstairs and Shiro can’t help but take a look to see the new pods being built. Maybe he will pilot one of it one day.
They don’t stop at the mechanical area, but heads for the chemical ones. Shiro starts to feel a little bit wary. It’s a drug problem after all? Has Keith ended up with drug dealers that also stole secret from the Garrison? Or the Garrison is studying a new drug that going around and Keith takes it by mistake? The possibilities are endless.
He is very worried.
Magellan wait for them at the entrance of another reserved area. “Officer Shirogane,” he greets him. “I decided to accept Sam’s advice for your help. But please be informed that what you’re about to see is strictly confidential and no information can be spread outside. Otherwise, you’ll be accused of treason.”
“I understand,” Shiro says.
“Well, I suppose you’re not Garrison’s Golden Boy for nothing.” Still, Magellan looks like he wasn’t convinced of it. “Let’s go.”
He opens the door: there was a dark hallway, with three doors. They enter in the first one on the right. It looks like a surveillance office, but with only a giant screen on the opposite wall, with two people observing it and taking notes. Two other people are at the desk, tapping on their computer. None of them move as they enter.
It isn’t what Shiro is expecting.
Magellan nods at Shiro to look at the screen and he obeys. The screen shows a small room with white wall, only one small bed on a corner. It’s a closed room without window, like the one in the psychiatric hospital. There is a person sitting on the edge of the bed, completely still, wearing a white hospital dress.
Shiro squints his eyes. The skin looks… purple. He wonders if it’s an effect of the light, but then the person lifts his face and Shiro gasps a little, noticing the color and the form of the eyes and the ears.
“What… what’s that?”
“This is, Officer Shirogane, the first time we can say conspiracy theories are true,” Magellan says. “We have an alien on our basement.”
“Are you sure he’s an alien?” Shiro asks.
“Positive. She has a very similar form to humans, but her DNA is totally different. Too much for a simple evolution or mutation.” Magellan enlighten an overhead projector and shows Shiro a couple of radiographies and a confrontation with the human DNA.
Shir watches it baffled. “She…?”
“Her physical structure made us think she’s a female from her species, whoever it is.”
Shiro exchanges a look with Sam, who shrugs a little. It’s a lot to take in. Shiro has a million of questions, too much for sorting one out, so he remains silent.
“We found her in the desert, almost two week ago,” Magellan continues. “He lives in an abandoned shack there, cultivating and hunting. But we also found some technologies that, despite utilizing human mechanism, they aren’t human creation. We are investigating, but we still don’t know what they do.”
“Do you think she tried to contact her people?”
“It’s possible,” Magellan nods. “We have no idea if she ended up on Earth by mistake of she’s supposed to be there to investigate on us. We don’t know if she’s a treat.”
“She doesn’t talk?”
“She has vocal chords, and there are recent newspapers in the shack. I suspect she doesn’t want to. We tried to keep her without food and water for a while, but nothing was enough to make her talk.”
Shiro is about to say it sounds like torture to him, until he remembers the real reason he’s there in the first place, so he sucks his protest behind just a grit of his teeth. “What this all story has to do with Keith?”
Magellan’s eyes dart a little, before returning to Shiro. “The shack in the desert is owned by Cadet Kogane, as it was his father’s property. Well, of course, until he is a minor he can’t access to it, but the orphanage has the documents t attest it.”
Shiro remembers Keith talking about living in the desert with his father. They never went until the house though.
“At first, we thought Lucy – that’s how we call her – used the shack because it was abandoned, since Cadet Kogane couldn’t use it for now,” Magellan says. “But after a better investigation, we realized that there are traces of at least another person in the shack, a person that have access to the human world.”
“Can’t be her?” Shiro asks. “Maybe with a masked or something…”
“Maybe, but unlikely. There are things that it could difficult to gain if you’re not a human.”
“And you think this person is Keith.”
“I think Cadet Kogane might be Lucy’s son,” Magellan states.
Shiro’s jaws drops. “Keith is human.”
“He looks human,” Magellan replies. “But so does she, at a certain extend. We can’t say how a mixed blood can appear. And there is something in Kogane’s record that looks inhuman.” Shiro is about to protest, but Magellan shows him another slides. “Incredible sights, incredible resistance, and also his reflexes are overdeveloped. We found the same characteristic in Lucy.”
“There are humans with the same talent,” Shiro replies.
“It explains how Kogane can have those scores at the sim,” Magellan comments, as he didn’t head Shiro speaking, and Shiro wonders if it’s a way to reach his nerves. It won’t work, because Shiro doesn’t envy Keith a little bit. He appreciates his talent.
“You believe it, Sam?” he asks then.
“I believe in science,” Sam replies, and it isn’t an answer. “We can confirm it only if we can run some test on Kogane’s DNA.”
“The test,” Shiro understands. “It wasn’t for drugs.”
“Exactly,” Magellan confirms. “Even if Kogane isn’t Lucy’s son, we wanted to check his healt. If he entered in contact with her, he could contract some disease or something. But Kogane refuted the test and run away.”
Magellan shows Shiro a video of the event. Keith looks nervous and, as soon as he realizes they want to take a blood sample, he reacts. Two people try to grab him, but Keith kicks one in the leg and escape. The video ends.
“He left the Garrison with a hoverbike. It’s a damn good pilot,” and Shiro can’t say if there is real praise in Magellan’s word, “and we still have to find him. We found her a couple of days before this event. If he was in contact with her, he probably knew about her capture and understands the reason behind the blood test.”
“This entire thing doesn’t make any sense.” Shiro shakes his head. Keith isn’t an alien. He’s not possible. “His mother is dead, just like his father. He told me so.”
“Well, there is no record of it. There is no record of his mother at all.” This time, Shiro catches the hint of amusement in Mangellan’s tone. “He lied to you. Understandable, giving the situation.”
“I can’t believe it.”
Sam places a hand on the shoulder. “The first thing is to find the cadet. He’s out here all alone, with no place to go. Alien or not, he’s our responsibility.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“But she may,” Magellan comments.
“Can I… speak with her? Try, at least?” Shiro proposes.
Magellan smirks. “That’s the reason you’re here.” He moves to the door. “It’s the last one.”
Shiro looks at Sam, who nods, and then follows the direction. He finds himself in a big room divided in two by a glass bulletproof wall. He is on one side, the other is the alien’s room. She doesn’t even look at him as he enters.
He gets near the wall. She probably can hear him, since Magellan hasn’t specified anything about the behavior Shiro need to have. He places a hand on the glass.
“Ehi,” he says, with a little smile. “Hi.”
She lifts her head and look at him. There is a blank expression on her face.
“I’m… Takashi Shirogane. I’m an officer here at the Garrison. And a pilot.” He’s blabbering because he has no idea what to do. “What’s your name?” He can’t bring himself to call her Lucy. She has her own name.
She doesn’t answer. But she stands up and reaches for Shiro. She tall, taller than him, and Shiro’s height isn’t average too. Makes Shiro wonders if she is an exception, or all the aliens of their species are like her, or bigger.
Keith is small, smaller for his age. He can’t be an alien. And yet, there are some species where the male is smaller than the female. Shiro can’t believe it, but there is a slightly similarity with Keith’s. It’s all about the form of the face, still it’s here.
She lifts her arm and places her hand on the glass, in the same position of Shiro’s. He notices then that her fingers end up in claws. And the skin isn’t skin, but a very short fur. Cattish. She looks cattish. Keith is a cat-person too.
“I’m looking for a friend,” he says then, since she isn’t talking. “Keith. I can’t find him and I’m worry about him. I want to help him. Do you have any lead for me? He’s not in trouble,” Shiro adds. “Not here, at least. He may be in trouble outside and I don’t even know.”
She looks at him for a couple of second, expression still blank. Then, she moves and she returns in her position on the bed, not paying attention to Shiro anymore. If it isn’t possible, Shiro can say to see a glint of disappointment in her.
“Officer Shirogane, please come back,” the voice from the loudspeaker calls him, and he obeys.
He leaves reluctantly the room and returns to the office. “It didn’t go well.”
“On the contrary,” Magellan looks excited. “This is the only reaction we managed to get from her until now. And you did it.”
“Did I?” Shiro doesn’t look convinced.
“Sam, you’re right, as always. We can get something now. Officer Shirogane, I hope I can count on you from now on to get through Lucy.”
“I just want to find Keith,” Shiro answers.
“She knows where he is, I’m sure of it.” Magellan moves one of his man out of the desk and sits down. “I’m going to look at your schedule and organizing your work here according. You’ll be informed.”
Taking that as a sign for them to leave, Sam makes a goodbye gesture and heads for the door. There, Shiro asks, “and the other room?”
“It’s the laboratory. For analysis and everything,” Magellan answers absent-minded.
Shiro leaves the restricted area with a lot of question and only one certainty: he wants to find Keith without the Garrison knowing it.
***
Magellan puts a lot of faith in Shiro, even if the next three try to speak with ‘Lucy’ he doesn’t make any progress. Shiro, on the other hand, is too busy finding a way to communicate with the alien without the others know it. He still has problem believing she and Keith can be related, but until now she’s the only lead Shiro may have.
For the fourth try, Shiro proposes something different from usual, and Magellan agrees. He orders they places two tables in front of each other, on the opposite side on the glass wall, so that Shiro and ‘Lucy’ can eat together. Of course, Shiro isn’t sure she will agree to it, since she hasn’t move yet but the first time.
He sits down on his part of the table and throws a look at the alien. Her tray has been placed on her side of the room, but she makes no move to reach it. She’s looking at Shiro, though. Shiro greets her and then dedicates his attention to his lunch. A couple of minutes later, she joins him. She has fang, he notices, as she bites her meat.
“Good appetite,” Shiro smiles. “We think it’s lonely to eat alone every day, so I hope you can enjoy my company. Do you like the food?”
She doesn’t reply, and Shiro doesn’t expect her to. He prepared a lot of mundane discourses, but his attention is focused to another task. He eats using his right hand, and with the left he taps a little on the table, in an area that isn’t visible from the camera.
He’s using Morse code. It’s a try, and a stretched one. She’s an alien, not a Russian spy. Still, there are communication devices in the slack and maybe she learned something about earthling’s communication system too. Easy words from Shiro’s part: Keith and help.
Shiro is sure she notices his tapping, still she makes no move to reply, not even in Morse code. She eats her lunch in silence and, after finishing it, she returns on the bed, as if Shiro’s presence and his blabbering don’t even exist.
With a sigh, Shiro is about to stand up and leave, when he notices something. She didn’t eat everything. She left something in her tray, and each piece is separate so it forms a number: one piece of meat, six carrots, eight crumbs of bread and the three drop from the yogurt. They look awful as coordinates and Shiro hopes he isn’t looking too much into things.
Magellan isn’t happy with the result and Shiro understands his time is limited. He needs to find results before Magellan decides he isn’t useful anymore. He excuses himself from the afternoon lessons and returns in his room. He combines together the four numbers and checks where the four coordinates bring him. One of them points at a point in the desert of Arizona, just where the Garrison is.
It can’t be a coincidence.
Excited, Shiro reaches the garage and takes his hoverbike, heading in the desert following the coordinates. In the far, he notices Keith’s shack and the fact it is still under the Garrison’s surveillance. Shiro takes a large route to avoid being spotted and finds himself in a street inside two canyons.
The coordinates indicate the entrance of a cave between the rocks of the canyon. Shiro frowns, thinking it isn’t save to explore one of it without back-up and without even knowing if it’s a trap. But she couldn’t tell him more, so Shiro has to try.
He takes his torch and adventures inside. The cave goes down and down: after a couple of hour of walking, Shiro is about to give up when he hears a sound. After a corner, the cave ends up to a river. The level of water is low, so Shiro can still walk forward. On the opposite side of the river, there is a small entrance and a blue light comes from it. So Shiro crosses the river, water splashing around his boots. He waits a second and, when he’s sure to not hearing any rumors, he enters.
He can’t say what he expected to find, but definitely he doesn’t expect…. That. In front of him there is a giant mechanic lion-shaped robot. It’s the alien ship? Maybe. Shiro can’t say how other planets, other culture, built their transports. Around it, there is a blue circle that looks like a barrier. It’s the blue light Shiro saw from outside.
He places a hand on it. It’s strange at the touch, not looking like solid material but it still prevents Shiro to get near. He is so surprise by the mechanical lion that almost forgets the real reason he’s there in the first place.
A sound distracts him from his exploration, and Shiro turns around, closing his hand in a fist, ready to fight if the situation requires it.
“Shiro…?”
Keith is there, in front of him, a knife in his hand. He looks paler than usual, skinnier than usual, and there is a mixture of relief and shock in his expression. He still wears the Garrison uniform, dirty as his face.
A smile appears on Shiro’s mouth. He closes the distance between the two of them and hug him. Keith doesn’t reciprocate, but Shiro’s feels his rigid muscles relaxed in the hug.
“I was worried about you,” he says,
Keith nods barely. “How do you find this place?”
Shiro waits a second before answering, “your mother told me.”
Keith’s eyes widen. He takes a step backwards. “So they know.”
“They suspect it, especially after your escape,” Shiro says.
“Is she okay?” His tone is affectionate.
“They didn’t hurt her,” Shiro tells him. “But she’s locked down in the most reserved part of the Garrison Scientific Department.”
Keith grits his teeth. He turns around and walks away.
Shiro follows: there is another small cave, a small pod places there. It’s similar to the earthlings’ ones, but the style and the material are definitely alien. Keith adapted the cave into a temporary hideout, with a blanket as a bed and a small camping fire. There are also alien weapons in a corner, and Keith, after hanging his knife at his belt, grabs a couple of gun and what look like a bomb in a backpacks.
“Keith,” Shiro calls, “what are you going to do?”
“Free her, of course,” he answers, in a growls. He put the backpack on his shoulder.
“Keith, be serious. You can’t go inside the Garrison alone, armed like that. They’ll kill you before you can step inside the Scientific Department.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Keith snaps back.
“To be fair hones, yes, I have.” Keith blinks, surprised, and Shiro continues, “Magellan trusts me, for now. I have access at the restrict area. We can plan an escape route.”
Keith lowers his head. He takes a deep breath. “You aren’t disgusted by me?” he asks at last, not looking at Shiro in the eyes.
“No. Not at all.” Shiro sits down on the blanket. “I’m surprised, of course. You don’t discover every day that your best friend is an alien, but… wow. Seriously.”
A small smile appears on Keith’s lips. He lets the backpack falling in the ground. “It doesn’t happen every day to have a friend like you either.”
“Oh, well. I’ll do my best.” He pats the blanket next to him, to point at Keith to sit down next to him.
Keith obeys. “Sorry if I lied to you. About my mother.”
“Don’t worry, it’s understandable.” Shiro throws a look at the blue light that comes from the biggest cave. “But now, will you tell me about that giant lion over there?”
“It’s the reason my mother is here,” Keith answers. “It’s kinda of a long story.”
“I have time.”
Keith looks at him, and Shiro realizes he sounded bad. He’s curious, he hasn’t see such a technology in all his life, and he also wants to know why Keith’s mother is on Earth. But there are most important matters to take care of. He isn’t there for questions.
“You know what, it doesn’t matter. You’ll tell me later.” He stands up. “Let’s go back and find a way to save your mother.”
***
Shiro isn’t as well-behavior as Iverson likes to believe. When he was a cadet, he did a good amount of stunt himself. He just didn’t get caught, especially because he was smart enough to learn how the camera works and how to enter and exit at night from the Garrison without being spotted.
And so, Shiro is able to let Keith inside his room without anyone noticing. Keith looks around, unsure how to do.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe here.”
“What about Adam? He lives here, doesn’t he?”
“Not anymore. We broke up.”
“I’m sorry.”
Shiro shrugs. “Thanks.” He takes one of his t-shirt from the wardrobe.
“I don’t have anything of your size,” he says, “but you can use mine while we wash your clothes. And you can take a shower. I go get something to eat.”
Keith looks at the t-shirt before nodding. Shiro waits for him to disappear in the bathroom before leaving the room. He reaches the hall and grabs a couple of sandwiches and soda from the vending machine. When he returns, Keith is done with the shower and sits down in the couch, brushing his hair with a towel. The t-shirt is big enough to cover him.
“Here.” Shiro throws him a sandwich.
“Thanks.”
Keith eats the sandwich in small bits. “I changed my mind,” he says.
“About what?”
“This entire situation. I can’t involve you in this.”
“I’m already involved.”
“Not so much,” Keith replies. “If you help my mother escape, and they find out, your career is over. I can’t let it happen.”
“Well, looks like the solution is for me not to get caught.”
“Shiro, please…!”
“No, Keith.” This time, Shiro’s tone is serious. “I promised you once I won’t give up on you, and I won’t. Let me help you.”
Keith’s lips stretches in a smile. He nods. “Thank you.” He takes the last bit of the sandwich. “Do you already have a plan?”
“Unfortunately, no. We need your mother’s help on this, I think. What’s her name, by the way?”
“Krolia.”
Definitely not a human name. “Tomorrow, I have another appointment with Magellan. I’ll manage to tell her you’re safe, and we’ll see.”
“Mom will know what to do,” Keith confirms.
“Let’s go to sleep now. You need rest and I have to get up early tomorrow.” Shiro takes his pajamas and heads to the bathroom. “Take the bed, I can sleep on the couch.” When he returns in the room, Keith is already on the bed lying down.
“The bed is big enough for the two of us,” Keith says. “If you don’t mind sharing, of course.”
“No, I don’t. Do you?”
Keith shakes his head and put himself under the sheet, back towards Shiro. Shiro slides next to him, be careful not to touch him, to give him space. It’s still reassuring earing the soft sound of Keith’s breath next to him, and feeling the warmness of his body.
Keith might be an alien, but he’s still his Keith. Shiro doesn’t know what will happen tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and when Krolia will be free, but for now Shiro will just be at his side.
“Thank you, Shiro,” Keith whispers.
“Every time, Keith. Every time.”
***
Magellan sets up another lunch for Shiro. The first one wasn’t positive, but Magellan feels they can have another try. Shiro knows it’s Sam’s doing, because Magellan looks more nervous than the first time. Understandable: they have an alien in the basement and no idea of the reason.
Shiro is just happy to have a possibility to talk to Krolia. She doesn’t wait this time, she sits down in front of him immediately. She is eager too to know if her giving information to Shiro had been a good idea.
Keith. Okay. There are the first words Shiro says to her. Her face remains impassible. Krolia, he adds, always with the Morse code. It’s the proof he actually spoke with Keith. But they can’t elaborate an escape plan without her help and without communicate: the Morse code with the fingers is too slow, and too risky.
“Talk to me, please,” he says, and it sounds almost like a plea. “I can help you.” The stares at each other for a long second.
“Hi.” Her voice is low, and Shiro isn’t sure to hear it for real. “Takashi Shirogane.”
She doesn’t add anything: she stands up and sits down back on her bed. For Magellan, is more than enough. She actually talked! She understands the language! She remembers names! Shiro realizes he gets his free pass for the restricted area even more than before, being the only one she speaks with. It gives him an advantage.
“Ask her where she comes from,” Magellan orders. “We need to understand why she’s here and if she’s alone.”
“Can I ask about Keith too?”
“Of course. We’re still looking for him.”
Shiro thinks back at Keith still in his room, and remains silent. He speaks with Krolia a couple of time each week. Krolia doesn’t answer at his questions, but she says a lot of things. Things about planets Shiro never hears about, and about alien races that looks coming from a sci-fi book. She doesn’t referee at herself with her true name and she affirms to not knowing Keith.
Magellan writes down all the information and put his men to investigate on it, try to find a lead on something. It is enough to keep him occupied. On the other side, Shiro goes back to his room and talks to Keith.
Most of the thing Krolia says are lies. Keith has all time to tell Shiro about the Galra Empire, about the war, about Voltron. Especially, he tells him about the code he and his mother creates for situation like that. Shiro knows how to ask to mean something else entirely, and Keith knows how to translate his mother’s answer in something that makes sense.
“You know,” Shiro says once. “At first, I believed your mother would be against the idea of freeing her. To keep you safe.”
Keith nods. “She would, but the Garrison sequestrated all his devices and this means nothing is prevented the Empire to find the Blue Lion. This is bigger than me. Millions of lives are at stakes.”
Shiro has still problem to register all the information Keith gave him about Zarkon and the Galra. The idea of an evil tyrant going around the universe conquering planet looks definitely like a fairy tale. But Keith believes it with every fiber of his body and Shiro discovers that the real reason of him being at the Garrison is to become worthy of the Blue Lion.
“You’re a better pilot than me,” Keith states, “still the Blue Lion doesn’t let you in either. He’s prickly.” He sounds annoyed.
“You’ll be better than me in no time,” Shiro replies.
Keith smirks. “Maybe. But I won’t be able to pilot the Blue Lion then.”
He doesn’t explain further, but it isn’t necessary. They both know that, once Krolia is free, she can’t remain on Earth anymore, and Keith will go with her in space. Shiro will stay back.
In five days, they have an escape plan.
***
When the alarm call arrives, Shiro is ready. He rushes outside the rooms and reaches the reserved area. Magellan and Sam aren’t there yet.
“What is happening?” Shiro asks to one of the guards.
“I don’t know,” he answers. “She never does that. She just…”
Shiro looks at the screen: Krolia is making a very good impression of a hysterical fit, screaming and throwing his head against the wall. “We should stop her.”
“I prefer to wait for Doctor Magellan before…”
“I’ll try speak with her,” Shiro interrupts him. Without waiting for authorization, Shiro storms in the cell room. He places both hand on the glass, near to the door. “Please, calm down. Speak with me.”
Krolia doesn’t seem to have noticed him at all.
“Officer Shirogane, stand back.” Magellan’s voice comes from the louder speaker.
A doctor and two guards enter in the room. Shiro moves a step back as the guards open the door: one of them approaches Krolia and, in that instant, she regains her composure. She kicks him in the chest, throwing him at the other guard. The she jumps forwards and grabs the doctor’s wrist, twisting his arm against his back and smashes him on the wall.
Shiro looks at him with his mouth opened. Keith told him that the strength of Galra is superior to humans and that Krolia herself is pretty strong, being a trained soldier from a secret revolutionary organization. But seeing it is a different matter.
Krolia steps on one of the guard’s gun, destroying it, and takes the other one. He points it at Shiro.
“Let’s go, Takashi Shirogane.”
He lifts his arm and nods slowly. “Please,” he says.
She nods, and Shiro walks towards the door. In the hallway, there are other guards. The hallway is small, and they occupy all the space. Krolia places an arm around Shiro’s neck and presses the gun against his cheek.
“Drop your weapon,” one of them orders.
Krolia looks around: in a second, he leaves Shiro and push him forwards, against one of the guards. The distraction is enough for her to disarmed a couple of guards, enough to free the path to the exit door. She grabs Shiro again and drags him with her, gun against again his neck.
“Open the door,” she orders.
The guards freeze. “Do it,” Sam’s voice comes from the surveillance’s room and, a second later, the buzzing sound of the door arrives at Shiro’s ears. Krolia walks backwards until he’s outside the secret area. The she shots two times at the control panel at the entrance, blocking the exit for the guards.
The alarm starts ringing.
“We have just five minutes, then this area will be full of soldiers.”
Krolia has still his hand firm on his shoulder and the gun aimed at him. “Tell me where to go.”
Shiro nods and starts walking. In the Scientific Department there is some hangar door for the flying test of the new creations. It’s not an exit for people, because there is a discrepancy of at least ten meters until the ground. Shiro takes the lift and brings Krolia there, then opens one of it. She looks outside, the wind moving her hairs.
“He’s coming,” Shiro whispers.
She nods. “You stay here.”
“But…”
“No.” It’s an order. “Thank you for everything, Shiro. But this is enough.”
He takes a long breath. He knows she’s right. She’s trying to protect him, as Keith said. “Okay. Just tell Keith…”
The sounds of the motor of the hoverbike comes from upstairs. There have no more time. “Just remember, Shiro, where the Blue Lion is. It’s the only hope of the universe.”
And then, Krolia jumps. Shiro manages to catch only a glimpse of Keith looking at him, a satisfied smirk on his face, before the hoverbike keeps his failing. Shiro looks as Keith imitates his moves and lands perfectly, then leaves the Garrison’s field disappearing in the night of the desert.
The soldiers reach him. Magellan is with them, yelling orders around. Sam gets near and touches Shiro’s arm.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. I guess… she doesn’t arm me. Just a little shaken.”
“Understandable. Come to the infirmary.”
Shiro nods and follows him, not before having thrown a last look at the desert behind him. He will miss Keith, the boy that comes from the stair. He will miss his look, his smile, his talent, and his breath next to him at night.
At that moment, he’s sure he won’t see him again.
***
Remember the Blue Lion.
It was Krolia’s last advice, despite Shiro thinking it won’t be necessary. From time to time, Shiro enjoy losing in fantasy, and imagining Keith and Krolia fighting in the special war, keeping the Empire very far from Earth. Some other time, he imagines to be chosen by the Blue Lion and flying in the space, joining them into saving the universe.
He never returns to see the Blue Lion.
He prepares himself for the Kerberos mission. He doesn’t see Magellan that often anymore, and the entire Krolia incident passes as it never happens. Life returns to normal.
Then the Kerberos mission happens, and the kidnapping from the Galra Empire. Shiro is separated from Sam immediately, without the possibility to tell him what he knows. He can see recognition and fear in his eyes as the guards dragged him away. Shiro understands it’s obvious for him to believe Krolia is part of the invasion, while Shiro believes it was Krolia’s disappearance from Earth that lures the Empire to them.
Then Shiro ends up in the arena, becomes the Champion, and Haggar’s experiment. At night, dreams and nightmares mixes together. In one Keith is fighting outside with the resistance, and comes to free him with his hoverbike. In another, Keith is lying all along and he appears at the Colosseum next to Zarkon, Galra armor on himself.
Time passes, and Keith doesn’t appear, in any roles. Shiro doesn’t know if being happy about it. For all he knows, Keith and Krolia might have died returning to space. He can’t count on anyone else but himself.
He discovers he’s wrong when Ulas comes to his rescue. He doesn’t have much time to enjoy having an allay, because the thought of Zarkon finding the Blue Lion is worrisome enough. But he can’t leave without at least an answer.
“You’re a Blade of Marmora?” he asks Ulas.
Ulas stops for a second, surprised.
“I know a Blade. Krolia. And his son Keith. I…”
“You have to go,” Ulas replies.
Guards are coming and there isn’t much time anymore. “Tell them what happened,” Shiro says, before running away in the pod Ulas prepares for him.
Remember the Blue Lion.
Shiro doesn’t expect to be something that will turn out useful. He doesn’t expect the Blue Lance to choose Lance, a cadet from the Garrison. He doesn’t expect to end up in space again with other two cadets and to find the castle of Keith’s legends. And finding out that the legends are true, that the Princess Allura from Altea is alive and well.
And definitely doesn’t expect to be the one chosen to pilot the Black Lion, the head of Voltron, for the battle against the Empire. He’s pretty fine with that though. He tries to concentrate on the mission and not of the thought of being in the same galaxias of Keith. Difficult choices had to be made in war.
“The only solution is to escape,” Hunk says. “Sendak has the Red Lion, and we don’t even have a pilot for it.”
“But if we escape, Sendak will take the castle and the Black Lion,” Pidge replies.
“We have a pilot for the Red Lion,” Allura states. “It’s me.”
“You, Princess?” Coran exclaimed. “But…!”
“My father was her paladin, once. It’s only natural for me to take his place.”
Shiro nods. Allura’s wish remembers him of Keith’s one to pilot the Blue Lion, so he understands. They manage to sneak on Sendak’s ship, but they split up there. Shiro isn’t happy to leave Allura alone, but Pidge needs her help, and so does the prisoners. Matt and Sam aren’t there, unfortunately, but Shiro swears to find them.
There are a lot of people he can meet in space. Unbelievable.
“Come back to the Castle, we have the Red Lion,” Allura’s voice arrives in his transmitter.
“Allura did it!” Pidge smiles, and for a second the thought of her brother and father disappears.
Allura doesn’t do it.
They find out as they return in the castle. Coran is about to congratulate her, but she shakes her head. Her expression is disappointed, Shiro can see it under the glass of the paladin helmet.
“The Red Lion didn’t choose me.”
“The who piloted it?” Hunk asks.
From the cockpit of the Red Lion, a figure appears. Tall almost like Allura, a black armor covers him entirely, including his face, with a hood to complete his suit. At his belt, a knife is hanging.
No way.
“And who the hell you are?” Lance yells.
“Keith…” Shiro whispers.
The figure lifts his arm to take off his hood and make his helmet disappears. Black, long hair turns around a pale face and two bright blue eyes. The cadets at Shiro’s side gasps.
“Keith?” Lance is shocked. “How the hell are you here in space?”
“Wait, you know him?” Pidge asks.
Keith isn’t pay attention to them. His eyes are fixed on Shiro, and they are trembling a little. It’s Shiro that moves first, reaching for him, and takes him in a hug. He gets taller, and more muscular, even if not as much as Shiro. Keith reciprocates the hug immediately, hand gripping Shiro’s paladin armor.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t…”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m glad to see you again.”
“Sorry, Paladins,” Allura coughs a little. “But Sendak is still out there, ready to attack the Castle. Now that we have the Red Lion, we can have the Black Lion too and form Voltron.” She turns her gaze on Keith. “Come. You need your Paladin armor too.”
A small lips appears on Keith’s lips before he hurries to follow her outside the hangar.
“I can’t believe it,” Lance grumbles behind them.
“Can you explain why Keith is in space?” Hunk asks.
“Oh,” Shiro shrugs. “His mother’s an alien.”
“WHAT?”
***
Shiro finds Keith in the hangar, staring at the Red Lion, still with his armor on. It isn’t a surprise for him. He approaches him and Keith shows no sign to not expecting him, his face still firm on his own lion.
“So… Paladins of Voltron, eh.”
Keith chuckles. “So it seems.”
“None of us got the Blue Lion though.”
“Stupid lion. I can’t believe he preferred Lance at you.”
“For what it counts, he’s the easiest lion of all them.”
“It makes me feel a little better, yes.”
“How’s your mother?” Shiro asks.
Keith nods. “Fine, I guess. She’s in an undercover mission under General Rainveig’s command, searching for a particular source of Quintessence. I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Rainveig?”
“It’s one of Zarkon’s men,” Keith explains. “The Blade collected a lot of information about Zarkon’s army and territory. It can be useful for us all.”
“For sure.”
“Kolivan, who is the head of the Blades, is preparing a plan that will need Voltron. But first, I think is better if we become a little better as Paladin.”
“Agree.” Shiro nods. “But we should tell the others about you and your mother. They’re curious and the more we wait, the more they become suspicious.”
“Okay.” Keith’s head turns for the first time on Shiro. “Listen, Shiro… I’m sorry. About what happened to you. Ulas warned him only after…” He trembles a little and the arm he’s lifting stops midair.
“It’s okay, Keith. It wasn’t your fault.”
“You helped me and my mom back then and I wasn’t able to come and help you. And the Galra…”
“It’s not your fault,” Shiro repeats. “The situation is completely different.” He smiles. “Even if, I admit, I dreamt about you saving me sometimes.”
Keith swallows and this time his hand grabs Shiro’s arm. “I should have. I would have, if… I’m so sorry…”
Shiro pull him close in a hug. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” Keith whispers. “It’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to be back.” -
.
For his wedding proposal, Lance hired the MFE Pilots to write down a love poem for Allura in the sky. Then, he had a choir of Altean children sing a love song and Red herself bringing the ring for Allura. People speak about that for weeks, it became almost a legend in the planet around Altea.
Shiro isn’t so dramatic. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want his proposal to be something special too.
Things between him and Keith are good. Wonderful, even. Despite the time both of them spend in space for their work and their missions, their relationship is working. It feels natural and even if they miss each other greatly, the time they spend together compensate everything.
It’s natural that Shiro ends up thinking about a wedding. Something simple, just because he wants to make his love official for everyone. He has no idea how to tell Keith, though. Keith seems content with everything they have; sometimes, he expresses loud that he can’t believe they actually have that and Shiro is sure he won’t ask for more.
“Just invite him out for dinner,” Hunk suggests Shiro one day. “Keith is a blunt one, he doesn’t go for complicate things. I’m pretty sure he will be happy enough for the proposal alone.”
Not having better ideas (he definitely won’t follow any Galra traditions on it, nor Alteans), Shiro decides to follow Hunk’s advice. He makes a reservation in the fancy restaurant in town (five-stars and everything), plans an aphrodisiac menu, and asks to the restaurant manager about a special dessert with the wedding proposal on it. And he invites Keith at his first free evening.
He doesn’t tell him it’s a special occasion, because it will ruin the surprise, so Keith arrives with his jeans and his leather jacket, not branded hair but kept into a low ponytail. It’s a definitely contrast to Shiro’s suit and even Keith looks embarrassed once he notices he’s the only one without a suit in the entire restaurant.
“I didn’t know there is a dress code here,” Keith says.
“There isn’t,” Shiro reassures him. “And you look fine with it, don’t worry.”
Keith blushes a little and smiles. “Thanks. You too.”
The waiter that welcomes them doesn’t make any impression at Keith’s clothes, and that put him ease, much for Shiro’s relief. Their table is on a private corner, not enough for people not to notice them (Shiro’s face is still pretty popular on Earth), but enough to not have the entire attention on them.
“What about the list?”
“I ordered their special menu,” Shiro explains. “This restaurant… it’s specialized in nouvelle cousin or something like that, so for the first time I guess it’s better to try their offer. I gave a look at the name of the dishes and it’s impossible to understand what they are.”
It isn’t even a lie. Keith shrugs.
“It can’t be worse than Altean food, can it?”
It isn’t. It’s just… smaller. Small. Even for an appetizer. They serve a big round plate with a two centimeters slice of bread with some sauce and olive and fish on it. Keith blinks at it, he looks around and then take it with his hand, examining it perplex.
“At least is good,” Shiro says, after eating it. Then, he tries to make his best gastronomic critic he can manage, “The bread is perfectly toasted, crispy at the right point; spicy sauce, it goes well with the olive but it doesn’t hide the taste of the fish, which is the last thing that remains in your mouth.”
“What kind of fish?” Keith asks.
“I have no idea.”
Keith laughs. He eats his piece too and snorts. “Sorry, I’m not as much poetic as you. Too small to enjoy any taste.”
The rest of the dinner isn’t much different, and at a certain point, when they serve them a grilled fish that could come off from a house doll, giving his size, Shiro has no ideas anymore to entertain Keith as they eat. Keith doesn’t seem annoyed by the entire dinner, more amused that people consider it a great restaurant, but for Shiro this could be a disaster.
“Do you remember, Shiro, the time you bring me in that awful restaurant for your wedding proposal?”
Absolutely no, Shiro isn’t going to have that as a memory.
His brain is still thinking about something funny to lift the mood, when Keith speaks. He doesn’t look at Shiro, just playing with the small grilled fish with his fork.
“We should get married.”
“What?” Shiro exclaims. It’s a miracle he’s able to actually say a word, because he can’t believe it.
“Yeah, I mean… I know it’s suddenly, but…” Keith is embarrassed, a slight tone of pink on his cheek as he tries to be very focused on his grilled fish. “We’re together for a while now and I think it can be the right moment… maybe…”
“Why now?” And Shiro forces himself not to scream. “I mean, it’s very suddenly. Definitely very suddenly.”
“Well, last week I was at Zethrid and Ezor’s wedding,” Keith starts.
“Yes, I remember you told me about Galra’s traditions. And about the fact you had to fight Ezor for Zethrid of something like that.”
Keith laughs and nods. “Yeah, the groom and the bride choose a champion, and their betrothed has to defeat him or her to prove the love is real and powerful,” he explains. “Ezor was very pissed about me. She complained Zethrid didn’t want to marry her for real since she chose a fucking Voltron Paladin. Her words.”
“And it was true?”
“Nah, Zethrid just wanted to screw with me and see her girlfriend kicking my ass. I mean, it’s not like I can defeat her for real and ruin the entire wedding.” Keith smiles at the memory: despite everything, he’s fond of his colleagues. “We are not going to do that at our wedding.”
“Oh, why not?” Shiro complains. “I was going to choose Lance as my champion.”
“That’s not funny,” Keith replies, with a laugh. “And be careful, because I could choose Allura. Or Pidge.”
Well, Shiro would have been screwed with both of them. Better not try too much his luck.
Keith eats the grilled fish in one bite. “Well, my mother was there too, and she said something along the fact she never got to marry my father and well, there was other problems back then, but I thought… about us…” he presses his lips together. “You don’t have to say yes. I’m fine the way we are.”
“What? No, no, of course I want to marry you.”
“Oh. Good.”
“Yes. Good. Good.”
The conversation stops.
Shiro registers absently-minded as the waiter takes his plate and brings another one, and eats the small amount of food without even thinking about it. He’s going to marry Keith. He’s happy about it. It doesn’t matter who asks first, right? And to be fair honest, the entire dinner sucks, so maybe it’s for the best if Keith never finds out his idea.
“We don’t really have to marry,” Keith says, at last, while he takes the last sip of the very expensive wine Shiro ordered.
“You said you want to.”
“Of course, but… You don’t like the idea much, so…”
“No, no. I like it! I like it very much! What makes you think I don’t?”
Keith gestures with his arms around, with a small frown on his face, a clear way to say “everything”.
“It’s not like that. For real. Just…”
He doesn’t get the chance to finish the sentence, because the waiter comes with the tray of dessert: two small cupcakes, one chocolate, one red velvet, shaped as lion, with a sentence written with chocolate in between: will you marry me? He places the tray on the table between the two of them, the written turned on Keith, and he leaves after reserving them a smart smile. Shiro prays that something, anything just happens so he can escape the second hand embarrassment he’s feeling.
“That was your plan for the dinner?” Keith asks. He doesn’t take his eyes off the dessert tray.
“Yes.”
“Shiro. Shiro. I’m so sorry. So so sorry.” Keith places both hands to hide his face. “I can’t believe I just beat you on this…”
At first, Shiro images the small flinches of Keith’s shoulder to be caused by tears. And he’s moved too, and he’s about to reassuring him, that everything is fine and he isn’t offended by it, it was an accident and Keith can’t guess it, because it’s supposed to be a surprise… But no. Keith’s movements are because he’s trying – and failing – not to laugh.
Well, now Shiro is offended.
“You’re laughing. I can’t believe you’re laughing.”
“Sorry. Sorry.” Keith doesn’t look sorry at all. He stands up, takes the red velvet cupcake and stuffs it in his mouth. Not a simple task, considering he’s still try not to laugh. He turns around and leaves the restaurant with steady steps.
Shiro blinks. He grabs his own cupcake and follows him: Keith hasn’t gotten too far, he’s in the porch in front of the restaurant, this time laughing full force. Shiro imagined tears in Keith’s eyes after his proposal, just not like that.
He crosses his arms. “Are you done?”
Keith takes a long, deep breath. “Maybe?” He looks at the front door of the restaurant. “Please tell me you paid already and we haven’t just give the impression to leave without paying.”
“Don’t worry, I had. I had planned everything but you ruining my dinner.” He shots a not amused look at Keith, who is about to laugh again, and eats his cupcake. “But we probably give the impression you rejected my proposal.”
“Ops,” Keith muses. “Should I return inside and announce to everyone I accept?”
“Do you?”
Keith tilts his head. He moves near him. “Of course I do,” he says, and he gets up on his toes to kiss him and lick from his lips the crumbs of the chocolate cupcake.
“That’s reassuring.”
“We still not having any Galra tradition at our wedding.”
“Deal if we ask everyone else but this restaurant for the catering.”
Keith laughs. “I’m still hungry.”
“Same. Mc’s?”
“Mc’s.”
And that’s it.
Shiro can’t say it’s the best proposal in the world but it works in the end. They make everything work in the end. -
.
Shiro finds out about the selling much later.
He hasn’t return on Earth for like six months, being around the Vegas Galaxia for the IGF Atlas Space Exploration program and the city changes everything in the meantime. It expands in the desert with its street and its skyline, and Keith’s old shakes doesn’t exist anymore. It looks like it never exists, as if no stories connected to it exist.
Sometimes Shiro wonders if even Keith is just a creation of his own mind.
But Keith is there, is real, and even if they can’t stay together much, is with Shiro.
“Yes, I know. I sold it some time ago.”
Keith’s answer is short, distracted. The entire situation around his former house is no more than a mundane matter for him.
“Oh.”
“They called me,” Keith adds, and Shiro knows it’s more for his own benefit. “They wanted do expand the city and I had no reason to say no. They even send me back the objects and furniture inside.”
A small smile appears on his lips. Shiro is sure: within that object, there is his old research about the energy, the one that lend them to the Blue Lion.
“We pay for a new expedition into the Third Quadrant with that money.”
“But you don’t have a house anymore.”
Shiro’s reaction is unexpected. He doesn’t have a house anymore too. Well, he inherits his Grandfather’s house, back in Japan, but he hasn’t gone there in more than ten years. He isn’t even sure the war didn’t destroy it. Shiro has good memories of it, he just wasn’t expecting to come back. He expects to create a new one, and now he lives on the Atlas, connected to Atlas.
“I have,” Keith replies. Another surprise.
“Have you?”
“Yes?”
“Where?”
“In the best place in the entire universe.”
Shiro frowns, a small wrinkle between his eyebrows.
“Daibaazal?”
Keith chuckles. “No.”
Shiro is lost. The entire space is their house, since Keith lives most of the time around the universe from his humanitarian projects. Shiro doesn’t remember quite a place Keith will consider superior. Lance and Allura and Coran have Altea, Hunk has Balmera, Pidge had Olkarion. And Shiro? He doesn’t have an answer not even for himself.
“Tell me,” he dares to say and hopefully, hopefully, Keith won’t get offended.
He doesn’t.
“It’s wherever you are, Shiro.”
It’s not like they don’t have a place to stay. Shiro has his own quartier on the Atlas and it’s big enough to be a small flat; Keith spends his time there when they manage to organize a meeting. It happens sometimes that the routes of the Blade and Atlas meet, and so does their leaders.
But being on the Atlas isn’t the most convenient solution. Once Lance joked about Shiro being the king of his own moving castle, white hair and everything. Despite the bad pun, he isn’t entirely wrong. Shiro loves his work, and that means he never gets holidays.
Sometimes, they land on the nearest planet and take a room there. It’s nice to wandering around, exploring, as they dreamt back then at the Garrison. It’s their free time.
Still, Shiro decides, he wants a place only for the two of them.
They won’t get married. Probably. Shiro never asks, and Keith seems fine with it. Their works are too much important and none of them will ask the other to give up. Maybe, one day, when they’ll be old, they’ll settle down somewhere, with ten cats and a space wolf as companies.
For now, they’re just two people that loves each other very much. Shiro just wants a place for this.
They call themselves Mirimians, and they say they come from Mirim, the planet.
No one lives on that planet. It lost its atmosphere decades ago, and now Mirim is reduced as a desert, with acid oceans and burned rocks. The Mirimians are strong people, very loyal to their home planet. They still live around it, in space ships that their own star nourishes as once it did with their planet.
The space ships are so advanced they basically look like a city, but in space: there are bigger ships with shops, cinemas, schools, big ship for flats, and smaller ships one after another that are independent houses. They also move as they are small planets, guaranteed the regular life style. Shiro has been there once, as Earth Ambassador.
When he calls for a house, they hurry to find one for him.
He doesn’t tell Keith, not until the entire procedure ends.
“Mirimians are nice,” Keith says. “They have a voice in their balance sheet especially for humanitarian reason and, since they are in the Voltron Coalition, they devolve it entirely to the Marmora Project.”
“Good for you.”
Keith nods. “They are most untouched by the Galra War, still they want to help as much as they can.”
Shiro is there, nervous like a boy at the prom party. He doesn’t even know what he wants. Approval? He already has it. He just looks at Keith wandering in the room of the house and can’t help but be happy. This is what he wants, or at least he thinks it is.
“This is a nice house,” Keith says, once he finished his tour. “Do you plan to buy it?”
“I did already.”
Silence stretches between them. Keith’s head is tilted on the side, as he waits. Shiro knows he owes him an explanation, yet he is hesitant.
“I wanted a place for the two of us.”
There is a smile on Keith’s face, just a little, before it disappears into Keith lowering down his head.
Shiro can’t say when Keith ends up hugging him, his head deeply buried in his chest. It just happens and in that moment, Shiro feels all his being relaxes.
This is what he wants. Not really a place to call home, but a place to be with Keith as they are the only one of the universe. This is the last part of his life, and the last part of his happiness.
When Keith speaks, his voice is rasp, as he is on tears.
“Can I buy the furniture?”
Keith’s hands are dirty with paint and sauce. He’s laughing at something Shiro said and now doesn’t even remember. What he wants to remember is the two of them, sitting on a dirty sheet, eating mirmirians food from a pack, with the smell of fresh paint in the nostrils.
Creating a house is such a mundane thing to do. Deciding the color of the wall, of the curtains, of the furniture, the way they want to organize the kitchen, the dining room, the bedroom. They order glasses and dishes, and even towels. Light blue for the wall, white and black for the dining room. Red covers for the bed. They spend days and tons of messages before deciding.
Pidge knows a lot of good engineers that could help for the house, but they refused. They create their own house, just the two of them. It takes time, because they don’t have much time, but each day they are together in this project is a treasured one.
Keith licks his fingers and examines the blue stains on his palm.
“We should have hired a painter,” he says.
“We should,” Shiro confirms.
They shouldn’t, and they hadn’t. This is all theirs.
The ceiling of the bedroom is made of glass.
During the day, the room has enough natural light thanks to the near star. It’s during the night that Keith and Shiro can look up and see the sky and the star around them. They love it. There is time where they stay there, in bed (it was a futon before) all naked, curled around one another.
The constellations aren’t the same you can see on Earth, but it doesn’t matter. Shiro studied all of them, he loves it. What it matters is the feeling, the time and time again they spend together looking at the sky the dreamt to reach once and they are a part of now.
Shiro studies Keith’s profile, chin up and a soft smile on his lips as, with his finger, he points out a star.
“Are you unsatisfied?” Shiro asks, once.
“About what?” he replies.
“This. The house.” Shiro looks at the space outside the ceiling. “Your idea of home is a little more… abstract than this.”
Keith crawls nearer, arms around Shiro’s chest, legs wrapped around the other’s, head placed against Shiro’s shoulder.
“I love this,” he says. “We built it. It’s like our little special hideout. But,” he adds, “it won’t be home without you.”
Shiro’s hand finds his way through Keith’s air, as he tilts his head a little to brush Keith’s cheek.
They never come in the house alone. It’s a place for the two of them, together.
“It won’t be without me.” -
.
From the leader of Voltron and the Captain of the Atlas it is understandable expecting they can take care of themselves.
They can’t.
Sure, they can kill a man, they can command an army and win a war. They can survive if the situation requires it. But definitely they don’t have basic human skill. Like, for example, doing the shopping.
Shiro is used to the Garrison’s canteen for years he hasn’t needed to actual cook. He doesn’t know how much things buy, the expiry date or how to organize a simple dinner. Those things make him anxious. He spends hours preparing a list of products to buy and most of the time he forgets it at home before heading to the market. It results of him buying too much or too little, and definitely not what the put on the list.
Keith, on the other side, hates lists. He lived in the desert, alone, for one year, surviving with small cans and what he found around. He used to eat the same thing for days and he doesn’t really mind: just go to the market and grab what it looks edible. It results of him buying things they don’t get along well and that are impossible to cook together.
It’s not like they don’t like eating. They just don’t like much the idea of buying things to eat. It’s fortunate from their side they both have a job that guarantee them other people will take care of the shopping for them.
But, the few moments they manage to spent together in their house, are dramatic for that point of view.
Like now. Keith refuses to bring the list Shiro made for him and forgets to buy the milk. And Shiro needs the milk for the dish he’s cooking.
“Go buy it.”
“It’s late. Stores are closing.”
“First of all, we have 24/h market. Second, you have a space wolf that can teleporter.”
“Can’t you make something else that doesn’t need milk?”
“No.”
Keith tries to throw at him his puppy face, but Shiro crosses his arm and decides to resist. Changing the menu of the evening will result in changing the menu of the entire week and this is unacceptable. With a sigh, Keith surrenders to his destiny. He grabs his jacket and goes outside, calling for Kosmo (he became too big for staying in the house). Shiro returns in the kitchen and starts preparing the rest of the ingredients.
Half an hour later, Keith isn’t returned yet. Shiro frowns: he isn’t worry about Keith’s well-being because he can handle himself, more about the fact he’s probably buying the entire supermarket but the milk. So, as he hears the familiar wolf’s bark, he approaches the front door with wariness.
It turns out he’s right.
“Look what I found!”
Keith is kneeling down and next to him there is a scarred pit-bull. A very enthusiastic pit-bull, at least from the way it wags his tail and licks Keith’s face, two paws placed on Keith’s chest to stand up. Keith is rubbing its head and murmurs, “good boy.”
Now. Keith loves dog, that much is clear. He literally adopted and tamed a space wolf. And dogs love him back.
Shiro… not so much. It’s not like he doesn’t like dogs. They’re cute. They’re puppies and they follow you around and love you unconditionally. Some of them are even beautiful looking. But he never manages to connect to them, not like Keith does. It goes for every animal. He once had a golden fish, and it died.
“It’s cute, isn’t it?” Keith says, and smiles, and Shiro really wants to tell him that they aren’t going to adopt another dog because Kosmo already is big trouble alone, but he doesn’t have the courage.
“Uhm, well… can you explain how you buying milk ends up in you bringing a pit-bull at home?”
Keith frowns. “Pit-bull are good dogs.”
“I’m pretty sure of it. I just miss their connection with the milk.”
Meanwhile, the pit-bull is running around Keith, barking, and then jumps on him and licks him again. Shiro is definitely starts to be jealous.
“Okay, well. I went to the store, the big one near the street to the Garrison. But there were a lot of people, so I thought that maybe the grocery shop in Midson Square was still opened. It’s small, but it should have milk. So I got there and it was opened, but then Kosmo noticed them,” and at the same time Keith squeezes the pit-bull’s face, “and they played together and then I just couldn’t let them go.”
Shiro doesn’t say anything, but now he understands why Lance insists so much to call him a Disney princess.
“The owner of the shop said they’re stray, and I looked at them and I decided I had to pick them. I mean, look at him!”
He still squeezes the pit-bull’s face and it earns him another lick.
Something clicks inside Shiro’s mind. “Them?”
“Them,” Keith confirms. “The shop’s owner said they’re inseparable.”
He points out at the pocket of his jacket. Shiro kneels down and squints his eyes to look better. There are two strange fluffy triangles coming out from it. Shiro touches one of it with his prosthetic hand and something rushes outside and attacks his finger before disappearing into Keith’s lap.
Keith laughs. “Don’t scare him.”
Shiro observes better and he understand. It’s a cat. A skinny, completely black cat. It looks as Shiro as it’s ready to murder him, but as soon as Keith caresses his head it purrs a little and rubs his head against Keith’s fingers. The pit-bull head-butts Keith’s side, reclaiming his attention.
“Here.”
Keith sweeps the cat and places it gently on Shiro’s hand, before turning and scratch the pit-bull’s belly. Shiro keeps his metallic hand completely still. The cat is small, it looks even smaller in his palm. It turns around, sniffing the palm of Shiro’s hand until it decides it can trust it to be safe enough and starts exploring the rest of the floating arm, with prudence. Shiro puts near one of his human finger and the cat sniffs him before giving him a little lick.
Okay. It’s cute. They are both cute.
He looks up and meets Keith’s smart smile. He’s condemned, because now there is no way to find an excuse for not keeping them. He regrets all the times he called Keith ‘kitten’ in bed. All of them, and they’re not few.
So he changes subject.
“What about the milk?”
“Oh. Well… I kinda forgot?”
Shiro lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed, and that’s all it takes for Keith to understand. He stands up, much with the pit-bull’s annoyance, and heads out. Kosmo is waiting already for him and they disappear with a small pop. Shiro sighs.
The black cat is still on his arm, studying the way to jump from it to Shiro’s shoulder. The pit-bull, noticing only Shiro remains in the room, stands up and sits down in front to him, tongue out and wagging his tail. There’s nothing else Shiro can do but to rub its head.
As his fingers passes through the short fur, it’s even easier to notice the scars that cover the dog’s body. They seem healed, but Shiro wonders if the dog itself is. Shiro is informed that, after Sendak’s war, Earth went through another period of assessment. The numerous aliens that came from the Voltron coalition did help, but small criminals still erupt from time to time. Dogfights are just a consequence of it, and a small one.
“You had it rough,eh, buddy.” Shiro pats gently his back and smiles. “Don’t worry, Keith will take good care of you.”
In the meantime, the cat tries the jump and it results in it hanging up at Shiro’s t-shirt with the forearm, nails striking into it. It meows loudly. Shiro laughs and grabs it to put it down on the ground. He returns in the kitchen, the dog and the cat follow him and he has to admit, it’s funnier having them around. They both tries to stick their nose in everything Shiro is doing and the results are usually catastrophic for them. The pit-bull makes an entire pile of stoves falling and the cat ends up throwing flour everywhere.
When Keith returns, an hour later, he finds Shiro (with clothes changed) in the bathroom, trying to clean a very angry black cat from some pastry that remained stuck in one of its paw, while the pit-bull observes everything carefully from the door. As soon as he sees Keith, he jumps on him. Keith laughs and tickles its ears.
“A little help?” Shiro pleas, as the cat grabs the washbasin and doesn’t let it go.
“Oh, poor boy,” Keith murmurs and Shiro is annoyed he isn’t addressing him. Keith rubs slowly the cat’s back. He takes a small towel and places it upon the cat, using it to wrap the small body entirely. The cat meows a little and Keith rubs its nose. “Here, kitty, kitty.”
Shiro looks at himself and at his wet pants and he realizes he needs a change of clothes. Again. He looks at Keith with a disapproving look, but Keith is too busy cuddling the cat to notice it. And he’s too cute for Shiro to be actually angry at him, with that half soft smile on his face. He shrugs and leaves the bathroom for the bedroom.
Keith moves in the kitchen as Shiro ends to chance, so Shiro reaches him there. And frowns at the quantity of packages that occupied the living room. Well, at least there aren’t any more animals.
“The animal shop was opened,” Keith informs him, “so I had to buy something.”
“Something doesn’t mean all the shop,” Shiro replies, an eyebrow lifted.
“It’s not so much,” Keith defends himself. “Food, dog’s basket, some toys… That’s it. Oh, and brush for brushing them, and some products for the bath.”
Shiro isn’t sure that ‘that’s it’ is the correct expression. “You don’t buy so much for Kosmo,” he points out.
“Kosmo grew up in a Space Whale when not even mom and I had something other than the ground to sleep on,” Keith replies. “He doesn’t enjoy the conveniences. He tele transports away the only time I tried to bring him to the veterinary.”
“Well, they don’t expect space wolf to be domesticated, you know.”
Keith nods, and there is a small, proud smile on his face. “I know. And he doesn’t even play fetched.”
He throws the ball he has in hand in the living room and both the dog and the cat rushes towards it, almost crashing against the furniture in the meantime. The dog is the first one to reach it. With the ball in its mouth, he returns proudly to Keith and let the ball falls in Keith’s lap. Keith awards him of a small caress on his head.
“Good boy.”
“Keith,” Shiro calls.
“What?”
“The milk.”
He doesn’t have to add anything. Keith stands up and for the third time he leaves the house with the help of Kosmo’s tele transportation powers. Shiro sighs. The dog is looking at him with expectation; it pushes the ball near Shiro with its nose.
“Already spoiled, aren’t you?”
Shiro definitely doesn’t want to think about how much Keith can spoil a child, because thinking about Keith with a child is too much. He is already too cute with only a puppy. Well, three at the moment.
Shiro throws the ball, causing another run, and in the meantime he puts in order all the things Keith bought. He placed the food and the water in the two bowls and finally both dog and cat look too hungry to play again. The cat sniffs the food before deciding it’s edible, while the dog is sweeping everything with his big mouth. Shiro chuckles at their difference and then decided to put their baskets in the bedroom.
Once he goes back in the kitchen, Keith is back. With two pizza in his arms, but no milk.
“I give up, okay?”
That’s all the explanation Shiro gets and he can’t even manage to be angry about it. He shakes his head and kisses Keith’s forehead, as he pouts.
“You’re washing the dish,” he informs him.
Keith is about to answer back, but he stops. He probably understands he deserves it.
They eats the pizza in the living room, on the sofa and directly from the box, as they watched a romance movies from the holo-television (Keith can bear the sight of Shiro’s sappy movies for once, and he doesn’t complain about it either).
Keith let the pit-bull eating the remaining of the pizza and the cat licking his dirty fingers. Satisfied, the dog curls on the sofa next to Keith, its head placed on Keith’s leg. The cat stretches against the dog’s lap and starts licking itself.
“We should name them,” Shiro says.
“Nah,” Keith replies. He leans against Shiro’s side, the head lands on Shiro’s shoulder. “They have names. Kit and Bull. Otherwise, we shall wait for them to give their names.”
Shiro takes a while to get the pun. “Okay. I’ll call Hunk and ask him to name them.”
Keith emitters a sounds half annoyed half amused. Shiro wraps his human arm around his shoulder, so he can brush the back of his neck and his long black hair, now freed by the ponytail. He doesn’t notice Keith falls asleep until the movie ends.
He smiles softly and places a small kiss on Keith’s head. He doesn’t want to move him, so he just stays there, feeling his low breath against the chest. In the silence of the room, now that Shiro turns off the holo-tv, the purrs of the cat are audible too. Shiro moves the head a little too see it: it’s curled up entirely against the dog’s body.
The contrast between them is remarkable. The cat is dark and small, a little grumpy, while the dog is white and big, and friendly, still they love each other. Revelation hits Shiro as his eyes passes on the dog’s scars and he finally realizes why Keith can’t let them go.
“God. They are us.” -
.
Capitolo 3
The most important thing Sven learned on Altea was that Lance was loud. Really loud. He basically didn’t stop talking, ever. Queen Allura was fine, and most of the time too occupied to spent time with him or Siv, but apparently Lance had sworn to make Sven’s life miserable because he didn’t stop pestering him.
But, Sven had to admit, Lance’s blabbering about his children or his wife or his time as Paladin, as much as he spoke about Keith and Shiro, really distracted Sven for thinking about his parents’ death. It was easy not thinking when your mind is filled with someone else’s thoughts.
Siv looked happier too. Romelle accompanied her around Altea and she also managed to spent a lot of time playing with the space mouse. She always loved animals.
That was it: life with Keith and Shiro wasn’t bad. They were good people, or at least until now they didn’t give Sven a reason to think otherwise. And they’re two fucking superheroes with a friendship with an alien queen, a space dog and the abilities of pilot giant robots (Lance assured him they would show them how they formed Voltron). It wasn’t bad.
Sven knew Siv was thinking the same, but she was considerate enough to not tell him directly. Sven was too used to consider only one possibilities that the idea of being wrong this time was actually scared. Luckily for him, he still had a couple of days before Keith and Shiro arrived and took them for their space holiday. Still a couple of days to return to his usual self.
“Sven! Here you are!”
Sven groaned. He managed to escape from Lance’s attention for a straight hour. Definitely too much time. “Come on, you won’t miss it.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Lance didn’t catch the sarcasm, or maybe doesn’t care (he kept telling him he looked a lot like Keith). He took Sven’s hand and dragged him into the hangar. The queen was there too, and Siv and Coran.
“Just in time,” she comments.
The ceiling was opened and a second later, the green and the yellow lions landed in front of them. Sven didn’t do any effort to contain his surprise, and Siv was pretty excited. They had already flying in Black, but seeing all the lions together was pretty cool too.
They’d met Pidge, because she lived on Earth, but they had no idea about the other Paladin. They watched as the adults greeted themselves.
“Hunk, you don’t bring Shay too?” Lance asked.
“She’ll arrive later. I want to spent some time with you guys alone.”
“Oww, you’re sweet.”
“We don’t expect you until a couple of days,” the queen commented.
“Yeah, well,” Pidge wicked at him, “we decided to anticipate Keith and Shiro a little.” And she tilted her head towards Sven and Siv. “It’s definitely time for someone to tell these children the truth about their parents.”
“Oh, so they are Keith and Shiro’s children?” Hunk kneeled down. “Nice to meet you.”
Sven was about to tell them they’re not anyone children yet, but Siv’s eyes glow with expectation. “You had stories about Keith and Shiro? Stories they won’t tell us?”
“Oh, you can bet on it,” Pidge smirked. “Wait for dinner and we’ll tell you everything.”
It turned out, they were all sappy stories. Point was, Siv was expecting something about battles and dangerous, and there was undoubtedly something like that in the stories, but Keith and Shiro were just so sweet and tender one to another that everything they touched turned out into the plot of a romance.
Did we tell you that time Keith refused to form Voltron because Shiro was gone?
Did we tell you that time Shiro almost threw away a very important alliance because of Keith?
Did we tell you that time Keith brought Shiro back to life with the force of his love?
Did we tell you that time Shiro had a gay panic in front of Keith?
They were all like that. If Sven hadn’t see the scary side of both Keith and Shiro, he wouldn’t have believed they were actually two paladins of Voltron.
Siv snorted. “Your stories are boring.”
“Oh, well, complain with Keith and Shiro for that,” Lance said. “And they dare to tell me I was exaggerating when I hired the MFE pilots to asking Allura’s hand in the sky.”
Pidge rolled her eyes at him, and he shot a look back, daring her to speak.
“Well, they’re a little sappy,” Allura admitted, with a big smile. “But I suppose you can be, when you managed to keep finding each other against all the odd and the universe.”
“Yeah, it looks like a fucking fantasy love story,” Sven comments.
“It really is,” Hunk nodded.
“The important thing,” Allura continued, “is that they managed to remain good people as they kept protecting the people they loved. You two also can count on it. They’ll reach the end of the universe for you.”
Maybe. Or maybe not. After all, Shiro and Keith were fostering Sven and Siv for only six months.
***
In the dark of the room, lightened only by Keith’s datapad, Keith took a second to remember the Castle of Lions wasn’t anymore the empty warship it used to, and another second to recognize Sven’s figure and put down the knife.
Sven didn’t look amused. “Woa, slow down.”
“Sorry. Hold habits.” He smiled. “Do you need something?”
Sven shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, so…”
Keith looked at him, as he approached his table. Since their arrival on Altea, Keith noticed a small change of Sven’s behavior. He especially didn’t miss the fact Sven hadn’t his excitement in seeing Voltron. Lance swore he didn’t do anything, and Krolia himself reassured him that probably Sven and Siv were ending their grieving period for their parents’ death. Still, Keith wondered if he could do more.
“You aren’t sleeping too,” Sven pointed out.
“Going in ten minutes. I really have to finish this report for today and then, hopefully, I’ll be on holiday for a while.”
“Cool.”
Keith checked it back and sent it to Axca. He closed the datapad, but made no sign of movements. Until Sven was there, Keith wasn’t sure how to act.
“You take care of a lot of orphan,” Sven said.
“I do. It’s one part of my job.”
“It’s because you were an orphan too?”
“Probably. But more than that, I want to help people.”
Sven nodded. Keith understood he wanted to tell him something, or ask something, but he wasn’t sure how to do. For that, Keith was grateful he learned to read things from Shiro.
“What is it? You can tell me.”
Sven looked up straight in his eyes. “I killed my mom and dad.”
“Sorry?” Keith blinked.
“I was angry. I told them that we didn’t need them and that they couldn’t return if they want. And they didn’t.”
For a long second, Keith stared. Then he stood up, moved, and hugged Sven. He didn’t think, didn’t stop to wait for a reaction, just grabbed his back and kept him as much near his chest as possible. He caressed the back of his head slowly.
“It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident,” Keith said, and repeated, once he realized Sven was crying against him. He was fourteen, and he just need a hand in his life too.
At a certain point, Sven moved away. He pushed Keith back, but it wasn’t an angry gesture. He sniffed and washed his face with the back of his hand.
“Feeling better?” Keith asked. Sven nodded, not looking at him. “Good. Let’s go to bed now.”
Sven and Siv’s room was next to Keith’s one, so first Keith put his head inside to tell Shiro he was coming, only to find a sleeping Siv on the bed, using one of Shiro’s arm as a pillow. Once Shiro’s eyes fall on Sven, he moved aside.
“She came here searching for you and then she decided to wait here and…”
“It’s okay,” Sven interrupted him.
“Oh. Good. Good.” Shiro relaxed. “You can bring her back in your room if you want.”
“Why don’t you sleep here too?” Keith proposed. “So you won’t risk to wake up Siv.”
Sven looked surprised. He blinked a couple of time, then bit his bottom lips. “You won’t be gross, won’t you?”
“We aren’t going to have sex with you two in our bed,” Keith replied. Shiro’s entire face became red.
“You’re gross because you’re disgusting sappy,” Sven replied, and then shudder. “It can’t be helped.” And, without adding anything, he climbed the bed and lied down next to Siv, taking her hand in his.
Shiro looked he was almost in tear. Keith took of the jacket and joined them on the other side, with the two children between them. “We aren’t so sappy,” he commented. Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe a little bit.”
Keith passed his hand over the pillow so he could take Shiro’s one without disturbing the children. Shiro whispered at the light to turn a little bit off, so that there was still light enough to permit them to look at the children. Only when they were sure the children were sleeping, Shiro nodded at Keith and stood up.
“What is it?” Keith answered as they were out of the room.
“Siv talked a little to me earlier,” Shiro said. “From what I understand, it is possible one of her previous adoptive parent tried to abuse her. It didn’t happen, but it made them… a little bit over the edge. Sven especially.”
“I’m gonna murder him,” Keith stated.
“Yeah, that was my first reaction too.”
“It explained the all bathroom incident,” Keith commented. “We should speak with the psychologist for it. Try to help them in any way.”
“I agree.”
Keith looked at Shiro. He wondered if he regretted having adopted Sven and Siv and not a child with less problem. Keith had wanted them. Had wanted to help them. Shiro just went along with it.
“You know,” Shiro returned in the room. “There was a time I’m just grateful to wake up every morning with you next to me. But now… I think I want more.”
“Wake up every morning with this?” Keith smiled. “They’re going to grow up, and we’ll get older.”
“Let me enjoy this until it last.”
***
They woke up in the morning into a very big hug together. Siv had moved in some way on the other side, and she was curled against Keith and Sven’s arm were spread wide, one of them against Shiro’s chest. They are sweet. The sweetest thing Shiro saw, save maybe for Keith alone.
“You’re right,” Keith murmured. “This is how I wanna wake up for the rest of my life.”
Shiro smiled and leaned a hand to caress Keith’s cheeks. “But they need more friends. Friend of their age. I want our house full of children.”
Keith chuckles. “That won’t be easy.” Siv moaned something and curled more against him.
“How do you make friends?” Shiro asked.
“I jumped on a Blue Lion and ended up into a planetarium war.”
“This isn’t helping.”
“Afraid not.”
Sven hid his head under the pillow. “I may have an idea,” Shiro said. “You talked about that international school that will be open in a couple of months, right?”
“You mean the interplanetarian school? The one for children of all planet in the same solar system?”
“That one. We can subscribe Sven and Siv too, right? It isn’t forbidden.”
“Not really… the only condition is to live in one of the planet around, and Daibazaal is one of them, so I supposed that it counts…” Keith murmurs. “But why?”
“A fresh start may help them,” Shiro explains. “They had to mourn their parents and then faced with the orphanage and everything… Maybe it’s time to start over.”
Keith brushed lightly Siv’s hair. “If for them is okay, I don’t have problem. But what about you? It won’t be easy from Earth…”
“Well, it’s some time Sam is organizing a scientific expedition around the other galaxies. He asked me to join him. I refused at first because of the Garrison’s work, but I really won’t mind returning back in space.”
Keith’s eyes widened. “That will be so good.”
Shiro smiled. They dreamed about exploring space, together. At that time, Shiro was with someone else and Keith was just a child from the desert. They went so far and Shiro wouldn’t regret a day of it anymore. He leaned forward to kiss him.
“Oww. Can you stop to be gross at least in the earlier morning?” Sven complained.
“Sorry, kid, but no,” Shiro joked. “It’s your fault for sleeping in our bed.”
“A mistake I won’t do again.” Still, he didn’t do any move to get away, so Shiro took it as a permission first to kiss Keith again, then to lie down next to him and pass an arm around him. Sven scoffed and he just closed his eyes again. Siv blinked a couple of time before pressing herself more against Keith.
“Sven, Siv,” Keith called. “In two months, our fostering period will end.”
“So?”
“Are you okay with us asking for a definitive adoption and move to live in the space?”
Shiro felt Sven freezing against him. Siv opened her eyes and her expression was a little lost. Keith placed his hand on her side. She took Sven’s hand.
“If we say yes, can we sleep a little more?” he commented, annoyed.
“Not before I kiss you,” Shiro replied, and he trapped Sven more with his prosthetic hand.
“No, stop, you’re gross!”
Siv laughed and so did Keith, while Sven, still blocked in Shiro’s grasp, tried to hit them with a pillow. Men, they were cute. All of them!
***
Pillion was a very popular sport in that side of the galaxy. Unlike most Galra sport, he was the least dangerous so a lot of students from the Bootes School practiced it. Both Keith and Shiro didn’t complain when Sven had asked to do it too. He had friends now, and physical activity it was good.
So, every Friday, Keith returned first to his mission to pick up Sven. He avoided coming with the Black lion because it was a little bit a show off, even if most parents knew he was a Paladin of Voltron.
Sven was waiting for him at the field’s exit, the backpack on his shoulder. As he saw Keith, he stood up and walked towards him.
“Ehi, Sven!” an altean child called for him, and Sven stopped. “Do you want to come tonight at my house? Swimming pool party!”
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” he answered. “It’s my father’s birthday and I promised to be at home.”
Keith’s heart missed a beat, and he froze on the spot.
“Oh, it sucks.”
“Next time, okay?”
“Okay. See you next week!”
Sven reached Keith and frowned. “What?”
“Oh, I… Uhm, nothing. Let’s go.”
So he didn’t even notice what he said? Because surely Keith did! And he couln’t stop thinking about it for the entire journey back home.
He parked the pod in the yard and let Sven going home. He found Shiro in the kitchen, making dinner.
“It’s your birthday, you should be the guest at your own party,” he points out.
“It’s my first birthday with the kids, I want to make something special.” Shiro placed the tray on the oven and stood up to face him. They didn’t managed to enjoy Keith’s birthday because they were busy with the transfer and everything, so Keith understood why this time Shiro wanted to do a family birthday.
He smirked. “Good, because I have something for you to make today really special.”
“Oh? My birthday present?” With a smart smile, Shiro got near and trapped Keith against the wall of the kitchen. “Can I have it now?”
“Not this,” Keith laughed as Shiro kissed his neck, but he didn’t do any move to get away. “Well, maybe this one too, but no.” He brushed his check against Shiro’s and whispered in his ear, “today Sven called you his father.”
Shiro froze, lips still on Keith’s neck and his big hands on his side. He took a deep breath. “For real?” he asked, serious, as he pushed away a little. Keith nodded and he watched as Shiro’s eyes became wet. He took off the glasses and brushed it with two fingers.
“I… I wasn’t sure it would happen. You know, Sven and Siv remembered well their parents and I don’t want them to forget…” he blabbered. “I would be okay for them just to consider us their family… this is…”
“Happy birthday,” Keith said.
Shiro hugged him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For this. For everything.”
“It’s all your, Shiro.” Years later, there weren’t any doubts in Keith’s mind that his life without Shiro would be a lot different.
Sven entered in the kitchen. “Is dinner ready? Oh my God, not here too, please.”
Keith and Shiro moved away, embarrassed. They tried to keep the PDA a little lower, but sometime they couldn’t help it. Shiro coughed. “Five minutes,” he said.
“Okay.” Sven threw them a last disapproving look before leaving.
Shiro and Keith exchanged an amused smile and moved to set the table. Sven and Siv returned five minutes later and dinner proceeded smoothly. Siv was always more than happy to tell them what she learned at school, especially because it was something about alien cultures that she wasn’t able to have on Earth. Sven was quieter, but he liked to remark when his sister did or said something stupid and, by response, he got sass by Shiro. Keith just observed them, looking at the family he wouldn’t expect to have, and have instead.
“Before the cake,” Sven began, “we have something for you.” Siv lifted his t-shirt a little to reveal a small birthday present, a small square box with a white and black ribbon.
Shiro was again on the verge of tears. “For me?” He took the small package as it was something precious and fragile. He opened it to reveal a small glass orb with a holographic reproduction of the Earth and the moon inside.
“It’s beautiful, thank you.”
Keith recognized it: it was part of a collection of the planets of the Voltron coalition, making by the Olkarian for the fifth anniversary of the end of the war. Shiro had the entire collection on the Atlas, but since it was a present for his position as an Admiral, he never brought it home and he didn’t even consider the collection his property, but he still loved it. Now he had his own piece.
“How do you manage to buy one?” Keith asked. They weren’t easy to find anymore, and they weren’t cheaper.
“Duh. On internet.”
“And how do you manage to buy things online?”
“Grandma helped us,” Siv said, with an innocent expression.
Keith and Shiro exchanged a look. They weren’t informed of any remaining relatives of them, let aside a grandmother. Keith immediately felt a little guilty, and he was sure Shiro was feeling the same, especially because he had grown up with his grandfather.
Sven freed them from their embarrassment. “She meant Krolia.”
Oh. Oh. Keith had just the time to realize it and thinking about what his mother would react being called a grandmother, that Shiro was crying. He wasn’t even try to hide it anymore. He stood up and hug them, with Sven that this time didn’t even try to look annoyed. Shiro sniffed and leaned a hand in Keith’s direction, to order him to join their group hug. Something Keith was more than happy to oblige, putting both of his arm around the children until Shiro’s shoulder.
“I love you. I love you all,” murmured Shiro.
And then, in a whisper, Siv said, “we love you too, dads.” -
.
The time that precedes a fashion show is thrilling. People shouting from every sides, needles keep between the two lips, rushing steps as loudly music. Keith loves it. He loves being part of something, being useful. He likes it even more than the possibilities of having three of his models as actual dress for the fashion show.
“Everything good?” Krolia places a hand on his shoulder.
He nods. “Just a few more touch-ups to these pants.”
“Good.”
Kolivan, next to her, grunts a bit. At first, Keith thinks it’s his way to show his approval to Keith’s work; instead, it was an annoyance sound. “The star is arrived,” he comments dryly.
Keith squints his eyes at the main door of the dressing room, in time to see a glimpse of Takashi Shirogane before he disappears behind the crown of people gathering to greet him. In a world based on appearance like the fashion one, it’s natural expecting that a scar across the nose and a missing arm will be enough to kick someone out. Instead, despite all this, Shiro is still the most wanted model around the world.
He’s just so great.
Krolia pats Kolivan’s back. “We should go and introduce ourselves,” she says. “After all, he’s gonna parade with our dresses too.”
Kolivan’s reply is another grunt, but he follows her. Keith’s eyes remain on them until they disappear inside the noisy crowd. Then, he returns back to work at his pants.
Red squints her head from the collar of his shirt and tilts it on his side.
“Not now.”
Keith tries to press her back inside, but of course Red is a stubborn little kwami: she escapes from his fingers and flies along his arm, belly exposes.
“I’m working. I’m not interrupting my work only for greeting Mister best model in the world.”
Red sits down on the back of his hand, the one that keeps the needle. Keith sighs.
“Yes, I still have his poster in my room. Yes, he’s like the gorgeous man alive. No, I’m not going to embarrass myself in front of him. Not without my paladin suit, at least.”
It’s embarrassing enough that Kolivan, out of all people, decided Shiro will wear one of Keith’s designed dress. Shiro will hate it, Keith is sure. He still remembers with disappointment the day Shiro was invited to an exhibition that has Keith’s drawing in it and the tone he used when he asked “who is the author?” Keith isn’t definitely going through that disappointment again. And probably Shiro hates him because he works for his company’s competitor.
Red flies to rub her entire small bodies against her cheeks before disappearing again inside his shirt.
“Thanks, Red.”
Feeling the kwami against is relaxing. Keith isn’t the friendly type, sure, he has a couple of friend he’s fond of, but he has problem connecting with people. And in the mess a fashion show is, he doesn’t even have the time to being friendly. Red is a presence that reassures him.
He ends up sewing the pants and goes to the model that is supposed to wear them. After checking they fit perfectly, he put them in their hook, alongside the jacked and the shirt that go along with them.
He frowns, noticing the other hook with his second dress is empty. He would prefer being present if the model wears it.
“Ehi.”
Keith turns around and freezes. Shiro is in front of him, a bright smile on his face and wearing his dress. Damn, he is gorgeous.
“You’re Keith Kogane, right? I was told you’re the tailor for this dress.”
Red growls a little inside Keith’s shirt. He regains his voice. “I’m also the designer.”
“Oh, really?” Shiro’s smile doesn’t faint. “I should have get it. The model is similar to the sketches I saw at the exhibition at the Marangoni Institute. They were yours, weren’t they?”
“Yes,” Keith answers unwilling. Here it goes his plan to avoid embarrassment.
“I’d have liked to speak with you at the exhibition, but they told me you left before I had the chance,” Shiro continues. “I’m happy I get to try one of your dress all the same. They’re great.”
Keith blinks. Maybe he’s lying. Maybe this is his way to gain others’ approval. “Thanks,” he still says, and he couldn’t help but smile a little.
“Can I ask a favor?” Shiro says. “I feel the right shoulder is a little bit large.” He pulls the empty sleeve, where the tight arm is supposed to be and isn’t.
“Ah, sorry. I’ll fix it right now.”
“No problem. It isn’t a big deal for me, but you know, I don’t want to risk to give a bad impression of your dress.”
Keith brings Shiro at his desk and let him sits down in the chair. He takes the needles and the pins and starts fixing the shirt. From that small distance, it’s hard to focus on the work and not to the perfect profile of Shiro’s jaws, or the smell of his cologne. Only the fear of making things even more embarrassing by pricking Shiro is keeping him on line.
“Is this your first fashion show?” Shiro asks.
“No, I used to help my mother since I was in high school. This is the first time showing dresses created by my design though.”
“Your mother is Krolia, right? The co-head of the Blade of Marmora Company.”
“She is.” Keith can’t wait to hear Shiro’s thoughts about him working only because of his mother and not because his talent.
“I haven’t had many occasions to work with her, which is a pity because the Blade of Marmora has very interesting designs,” Shiro comments. “I’m glad I get my chance with yours. I think you have a lot of potential. Too bad your work for the competitor.”
He laughs. His laughter is beautiful too. And Keith curses because apparently Shiro has no intention to say things that put him in the group of the insufferable people, so Keith can forget about him entirely. No, Shiro has to be living perfection.
“Well, maybe you could stop working for the Galra Company and join us,” Keith proposes, once he finishes the job at the shirt.
Shiro stands up and shot him a smirk. “Ask me again once you’ll have your own fashion show, and I might accept.” He’s a challenge, but a friendly one. “Good luck for today.”
Keith follows his back as Shiro returns in the dressing room. Red moves a little, tickling him. “No, Red, you weren’t right,” Keith protested.
He returns to check his last dress for the parade. Luckily the work doesn’t permit for his to remain distract for too long, but it’s still hard to take off from his brain Shiro’s smile, or his words, or the fact that Keith got to actually touch him, even if only for patching his shirt. Once the fashion show begins, Keith frees himself from Kolivan’s watch and squints from the public so he can see Shiro walking on the carpet wearing his dress.
The public seems to approve the dress. Or maybe it’s because Shiro’s wearing it.
Either way, things are going great.
Too good for Keith.
It’s not like he brings misfortune on himself, he’s just uses to have the interruptions at the worst moment. He can hope, but he doesn’t expect the fashion show being any different.
Shiro manages to reach the end of the carpet, when a loud rumor comes from below. It’s follow by an explosion and a robeast appears floating near the ceiling. This time, it’s a hexagonal face that is basically all mouth, with two small stretching arms.
“Damn. I just know it.”
People around him yells and runs. Keith sees Shiro as he tries to help his colleagues to take off the carpet while the robeast gets near. There isn’t much time: Keith fights between the running people to reach the nearest toilet and closes the door behind him. Red flies out his shirt.
“Come on, Red. Transforme moi!”
Red turns into a ray of red light that enters in his only fingerless glove. From them, the light radiates in all his body, covering him with his paladin armor, a red tight and elastic suit with the symbol of a v in his chest. His face was free but for a small red mask that covers around his eyes.
Keith returns in the mail hall: most of the people escaped at that point. There are still some security guards that, in vain, try to shot at the robeast. It has Shiro clasped on one of his mechanic arm, and it’s about to chew him in his giant mouth.
Using the force of his jetpack, Keith jumps and land on that very arm. He forms a ball of fire on his right hand and throws it directly inside the robeast’s mouth. It eats the flame as it’s nothing.
“Okay, plan B.”
He places both hands on the robeast’s hand. Once the temperature rises, the robeast struggles from the hotness. Keith manages to not lose the grip until it opens the mechanic hand and lets Shiro go. In a second, Keith flies down and grabs Shiro in his arms before landing with grace in what remains of the carpet.
“Thanks,” Shiro says, as Keith places him gently on the ground. “How many times are you going to save me before this is over, Red Paladin?”
“As many as it takes. But,” Keith smirks, “be careful, Shirogane. I’m suspecting you’re doing it in purpose.”
“Maybe it is true.”
That damn smile. Keith doesn’t mind have to save him every time as long as he gets to see it. But he is a superhero, and he just can’t keep flirting with his big crush as much as he’d like to.
“Go out of it. It’s gonna become hot shortly.”
Shiro licks his lips and, for a second, Keith wonders if he’s about to do a bad pun. Instead, he nods and run towards the nearest exit. Keith waits for him to disappear before turning his attention back to the Robeast.
“Let’s see how much fire can you digest.”
***
As soon as he reaches the hallway outside the main room, Shiro stops and leans a second against the wall. He sighs: did he really say he wants to get caught so the Red Paladin can save him? Was he really so stupid?
Black flies in front of his face and shot him a disapproving look.
“I know, I know,” Shiro says, tired. “I’m pathetic. But I deserve it, you know? I’m so bad at relationship that it’s only fitting I fell for someone I don’t even know who he is!”
Black rubs against his cheek, comforting.
“Thanks.” But Shiro has no more time in self-deprecation. “Black, transforme moi!”
The purple light enters in the ring he has at the middle finger of the left hand before spreading around his body. His suit his basically specular of Red’s one, save for the fact that it creates for Shiro a brand new right arm made of metal. As usual, Shiro tastes it opening and closing his fist a couple of time, sagging the feeling of having a second arm again.
Then, he returns on the main hall. The Red Paladin’s is still fighting with the robeast. His fire doesn’t seem to disturb it at all. It takes every hit, but they only slow it down and not doing actual damages. The Red Palading jumps around, still throwing balls of fire, as the robeast tries to catch him with his stretching arm.
Taking advantages by the fact it’s distracted following the Red Paladin’s movement, Shiro jumps and lands on his head. Black energy forms in his palm and he presses it on the metal skin of the robeast. It trembles and stumbles, but only a small burn remains once Shiro’s attack his done. The robeast shakes his head and Shiro leaves before he would be get out by it.
“About time,” the Red Paladin jokes as Shiro lands next to him.
“Sorry, spitfire. You know I like watching you.”
“Your flirting is bad as usual.”
“That’s not nice, but it’s true,” Shiro admits. “I’m smarter when it comes to fight.”
The Red Paladins avoids one of the mechanic arm. “You have an idea how to defeat this thing?”
“Maybe.” Shiro jumps on one of the mechanical arm. “It has a very big mouth, right? And it keeps it shut for most of the time. Maybe we can hit him from inside.”
He kicks the robeast’s face hard enough he manages to have him opens the mouth only a little, just enough for Shiro to put a foot between his pointed teeth. Then, using the real hand as a leverage, he pushed the upper part of the mouth upstairs. The robeast shrugs, but the fire balls the Red Paladin is still shooting are enough to restrain it for a while.
“I wish you can flirt as you can fight.”
“For this, it’s better the way I am and not the other way around.”
“That’s for sure.”
The Red Paladin jumps and enters in the mouth.
“Be careful,” Shiro says.
From outside, he sees the Red Paladin forming a ball of fire from his two hands, and then the fire spreading around the inside of the robeast’s mouth. Now that there isn’t any more distraction, the robeast can concentrate on shutting his mouth. Shiro grits his teeth and puts all his energy on his robotic arm, until he hears a cracking rumor, as he dislocates the jaws.
Meanwhile, fire surrounds entirely the Red Paladins, and the hotness starts having effect on the robeast. After a last shake, his eyes turn off and it start falling on the ground. The Red Paladin clses his fist, and the fire disappears. Shiro keeps the mouth open with one arm and leans forward the other to help the Red Paladin.
But the falling of the robeast makes him losing his balance, and he trips inside the mouth. The robeast crashes on the ground and the mouth closes shut by the force of the blow, trapped both him and the Red Paladin inside.
“Damn,” he curses.
He tries to open it again, but his magical energy is gone. The Red Paladin is at his next, helping him, but he also uses all of his power to the fire. Both their miraculous bleeps, pointing the kwami won’t be able to held their transformation any longer.
They exchange a look. “We need to go out now,” the Red Paladin says.
“We don’t have any energy left.” Shiro takes a long breath. “Listen. The best way is to let our kwami rest for a while, then transform again. With our full energy, we can open this mouth in a second now that the robeast is out.”
There is a frown on the Red Paladin’s face, visible even with the mask. “We can’t reveal our secret identity.”
“It’s pretty dark here. And we… can remain back to back. I won’t peek, I promise.” Shiro gives a small smile. “Do you trust me?”
“I do.”
They sit down on the metallic ground of the robeast’s mouth, back against back. Shiro feels the reassuring energy of Black leaving him, and the small kwami emerges from his ring. Shiro let him resting in his lap as he tries to not give away the fact he has only one arm.
In the silent and in the dim light the only audible things are their own breath. Shiro also feels the heartbeat of his heart pretty clear as it pulses in his ears. It’ll take at least fifteen minutes for the kwami to have energy again, a short period for someone else to arrive and try to save them, but a very long one for two people blocked inside the giant mount of a robot.
Sadness fill the silence and the dark. It has been like that since the very beginning of their fights against the Robeast. Every time they defeat one of them, they are invested by a wave of sadness, something that enters in their entire being. Shiro knows the Red Paladin feels the same as him, but they never question the meaning. Shiro fears the Robeast are more human that they look and killing a human is a scary thought.
There, inside the Robeast’s mouth, the sadness is even more unbearable. Shiro swallows, feeling a cold hand around his throat. He feels the Red Paladin shivers against his back. They need a distraction while they wait for the kwami to regain their energy.
“So… how’s things?” he dares to ask. It isn’t easy to start a conversation without asking something that can give away a secret identity.
“Good, I guess?” the Red Paladin answers.
“Good. Good is good, isn’t it?” Smooth, Shiro, very smooth.
The Red Paladin chuckles. “It isn’t easy flirting with someone you don’t know, isn’t it?”
“To be fair, I’m pretty bad at flirting in normal life too. With the mask is easier, you don’t have to deal with second embarrassment later.”
“I think I get the feeling.”
“Do you… do you have someone?”
“No.” A pause. “But I have someone I like.”
Oh. Disappointment flows over Shiro. “And…?”
“Well, until today, I thought he hates me. Turns out maybe he doesn’t.”
“Of course he doesn’t,” Shiro blurts out. He will personally fight someone who dares to hate on the Red Paladin. Especially that lucky bastard.
“I wish I have your confidence,” the Red Paladin murmurs.
“You have.” Even if he can’t see him, Shiro can imagine the smile. “Is he one of the others?”
“The others?”
“Yes, you know, the other paladins.”
“Ah, no, no. They’re… uhm… people around. Friends I can trust the miraculous with when the situation required.”
“Ah.” It does make him a little better. “They made me a little jealous.” Damn. He says it out loud. “I mean, I understand they helped us a lot, they helped you a lot,” since most of the time they were called because Shiro had been captured by some Robeast and was unable to transform, “but… I really like being your partner.”
“Black Paladin.” The Red Paladin moves his right hand behind and grabs Shiro’s left one. “You are my partner. If sometime we need some help, it doesn’t change that. I… I’m glad I have you as my partner.”
Shiro grips his hand as he doesn’t want to let it go anymore. “Thanks.”
“Thanks to you.” The Red Paladin doesn’t move his hand. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“How do you get your miraculous?”
It isn’t a question Shiro expects, but it isn’t strange per se. “It was a present. Well, the ring was,” he answers, returning with his mind at the day he received it from his boss Zarkon. “I don’t think he knew what it really was.” Shiro’s gaze moves on Black, still curls on his lap. “And Black didn’t tell me I can transform until the first Robeast appears.”
“I see.”
“What about you?”
The silence that stretches for too long gives Shiro the impression the Red Paladin doesn’t want to answer. Until he says, “a present too, but the person that gives it to me knows about the Miraculous.”
“You mean, he knows what is it or he knows… knows.” The question trails off. Of course that person knew a lot about the Miraculous, otherwise the Red Paladin wouldn’t be able to summon other Paladins when they’re needed. Shiro wonders why Zarkon has Black in the first place. “Do you think I can meet him?”
“I don’t know.” The Red Paladin stretches his back, as he wants to add something but at the end he gives up. “Red rests enough. We should go before people come.”
Still back to back, they transform. Once Shiro has his metallic arm again, it’s easy for him to open the robeast’s mouth to let them go. As the Red Paladin anticipated, the security guards are there, making action to rid of the robeast. They are surprise to see them, but they wave happily at Paris’s superhero. Shiro and the Red Paladin part way with an embarrassing smile. The time inside has been too personal to handle, and the sadness even more aggressive than usual.
Shiro moves behind a door and turns back in his normal self. Black hides in the pocket of the jacket as Shiro returns to the dressing room. When he reaches it, the lingering sadness has disappeared entirely. Most of the people are already returned there, looking for the disaster the robeast caused. Shiro waves at someone, to let them know it was okay.
“Shiro!” The voice calling him is Keith’s. He reaches him and gives him an attentive look. “Sorry,” he says. “I saw… you getting caught by that robeast and I was worried…”
“Not my best moment, I had to admit,” Shiro says. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I ruined your dress.” And he gestures at the left sleeves, that is completely ripped off.
Keith shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re safe, that’s the important.”
“You too.”
“Ehi… The fashion show is kinda ruined but… do you wanna hang up sometimes? Just take a coffee or something.”
It seems it takes a lot of effort for Keith to say that. Keith is nice and talented. Shiro would like to become his friend and maybe give him a hand in the fashion world. He’s just… not the Red Paladin. Shiro doesn’t want to lie.
But inside his pocket, Black purrs a little. Shiro bit his cheek.
“Sure, why not?”
***
Shiro expects Keith’s laugh, but he’s still a little bit offended by it. Still, the laugh is beautiful and so Shiro forgive him for it.
“What the hell is that?” Keith manages to ask once he stops laughing. He points out at the hat, at the scarf and at the big dark glasses, all the think that hid completely Shiro’s face.
“Oh, well, you know…” Shiro gestures a little about the advertising behind him, that show a photo of him in underwear. A very big photo of him. Keith watches it a second before nodding.
“Okay, I get it. Sorry.”
“No problem. I know I look ridiculous.”
“It’s not that bad… The glasses are a little off I think.”
“Can we stop talking about it, please?”
“Sure. But can you eat or drink with those thing on or…?”
“I’m leaving.”
“No, no, please. I’ll stop.” Keith grabs his empty sleeves and Shiro laughs.
“Fine. But this is the first strike.” He smiles. “So, you have any idea where to go?”
“Yes. Nearby there’s a nice cafeteria. The owners are a friend of mine’s parents and it’s pretty good.”
“I trust you on this.”
The cafeteria is in the area of Montmartre and it’s a nice place painted on yellow and light blue and with flowers at the windows. The smell of hot pastry fills Shiro’s nostril and he feels his mouth getting drowl.
A nice woman at the counter greets Keith. “Hi, Keith! Hunk’s not here.”
“I know. I’m here just for the cafeteria today.”
She looks at Shiro with a strange expression and Sjiro coughs gently. “Good Afternoon.”
Keith is smart enough to avoid questions about Shiro’s strange choice of clothes. “We’ll take your special selection of patisserie. And a hot cocoa for me.” He turns to Shiro.
“A coffee please.”
“Perfect. Just sit down, I’ll arrive in a second.”
As the woman turns to preparing their order, Keith gets near to Shiro. “Sorry if I chose for both of us, but you’ll thank me. You can choose the table, though.”
“Oh, thank you for the permission,” Shiro jokes.
The sit down outside, at the table in the right corner, next to a vase with pink flowers. Keith wasn’t wrong about the order: the woman at the counter brings them the coffee, the hot cocoa and a tray with at least twelve small samples of their cakes. They look beautiful and tasty.
And they are: Shiro takes one – the one with cream and whip – and eats it in one bit, enjoys it in fully. “Point one for you,” he comments. He sips his coffee: it’s also pretty good.
Keith smiles satisfies as he takes the chocolate cakes. He licks his lips and the point of his fingers with no shame, and not noticing it’s actually a pretty hot sight.
“Despite the accident with the robeast, I saw a lot of positive review about your clothes,” Shiro says.
“Ah, yes.” Keith nods. “Kolivan was pretty pissed off because most of the dress were destroyed or ruined, but we received reviews based on video and sketches, so it’s good. I still hope my next fashion show will go smoother.”
“Yeah, well.” Shiro understands. He isn’t his first time being attacked by a robeast. “How’s working with Kolivan? Voices says it’s pretty strictly.”
“Are you interesting in a change of company?” Keith smiles. He saves Shiro the necessity to answer, and continues, “it’s pretty good. Kolivan isn’t the funniest person alive, but he’s a great worker and he taught me a lot. Luckily my mother co-owns the Marmora so most of the time she manages to smooth Kolivan when he goes too far.”
“Your father is also in the company?”
“No, he’s a fireman.” There is a glint of pride in Keith’s smile. “He’s a true hero.”
Shiro thinks back at his accident and how he should thank all the people that helped him back them to save his life.
“What about you?” Keith takes another cake. “Zarkon doesn’t have a very good fame. Someone guess the Devil wears Prada is inspired by him.”
Shiro laughs. “He’s not that bad. Especially when he hired me back then. He became worse after, you know, the tragedy.”
“Oh. Sure.” Keith bites his lip. “Did you know him? Zarkon’s son, I mean.”
“No. I met him only once or twice, but briefly. He died a couple of month after my arrival at the company.”
“Sorry. I didn’t want to mellow the atmosphere.”
“It’s okay.”
He sips his coffee as he thinks about another argument. In that moment, his cellphone rings. He takes a look at the screen and the number of the Galra Company is there. With a shrug and an apologetic smile, he stands up and, as he answers, enters in the cafeteria.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?”
“Hello to you, too, Sendak. What do you want?”
Shiro’s intention is to reach the toilet so he can speak without bothering the other guests, but Black trebles in his pocket and usually it’s bad news, so he stops in front of an empty table and look outside the window. He can see Keith from there, drinking his hot cocoa.
“The photoshoot of yesterday didn’t come off as I expected. You had to come back so we can do it again.”
“This is my free day.”
“Pointless. The boss wants the photoshoot done by tomorrow. Hey. Are you listening? I swear …”
Shiro isn’t listening anymore. He’s looking with wide eyes outside the windows and at the robeast that is approaching.
“Sorry, I have to go.”
He turns off the call and rush to the toilet. Black is outside his pocked as soon as he closes the door. “Black. Transforme moi!”
The first thing Shiro does after turning in the Black Palading is rushing outside the toilet’s window and looking for Keith. He’s still outside the cafeteria, helping the rest of the people to get inside. The robeast is approaching and, this time, it looks it can shoot lasers from both its long arms and its body.
Keith still isn’t entering in the cafeteria, as he’s waiting for something. Shiro thinks it’s for the best, because he doesn’t want Keith to start looking for him. He jumps in front of him and takes him in his arms.
“Ehi!” Keith protests.
“Sorry, you’re on the line of fire.” Shiro jumps to the roof of the cafeteria and from there to a nearby roof. “Stay here until the robeast is defeated.”
“Okay.” Keith nods.
Shiro smiles at him. Now that the situation with Keith is resolved, he returns back to fight the Robeast. They become stronger and stronger as the time passes. This one has very long arms and it can throw laser from an enormous amount of point both in the arms and in the body. The lasers make very difficult to attack the robeast. Shiro is also worried about the fact that, even if he avoids the laser, they end up destroy the area around, so he has to be careful about where he moves.
Fire arrives from nowhere, as the robeast is concentrated on Shiro. The flames wrap it entirely, but no enough to stop its arms. The lasers keep coming, with the difference that, momentarily blinded by the fire, it isn’t able to direct them well on Shiro.
One of the laser it the roof Shiro let Keith few minutes before. “Keith!” He grits his teeth and he’s about to jump looking for him, when the Red Paladin lands neat him. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I saw the boy out there and I brought it down.”
“Thanks.” Shiro looks a second to the Red Paladin, wondering if the Red Paladin understands Shiro – the real himself – knows that boy, but the Red Paladin’s attention is all on the robeast.
“My fire isn’t working,” he says, “but your power might.”
“I tried to get near, but those lasers made it impossible.”
“I’ll try to distract him for you.”
The Red Paladin takes two step backwards and widened his arms. Flames erupt from there, licking his armor. As the separate from his body, they turn into small fire ball. With a sigh, he let them fly higher and become bigger. He moves them near the robeast, but without attacking it. It notices them and starts to direct its lasers at them. Some of the fire ball get destroyed, but others remain and dodge, flying around in front of it.
Shiro run to the other side of the robeast. It doesn’t have laser on his back, and its attention is all on the fire ball and on the Red Paladin. He looks at his metal arm and activates it: purple energy surrounds it and charges it. Shiro jumps high enough to land on the reboast’s neck. He reserves only a small look at the surrounding to be sure the Red Paladin is still safe, before placing his palm on the robeast’s skin.
“Cataclysm.”
He grits his teeth as his entire body shakes from the energy of his attack and he feels the robeast trembling and freezing below him. The purple energy is still flowing when the robeast fells on the ground, defeated. And then, here it is, the usual waves of sadness coming from the Robeast. Shiro is prepared, but each time it is harder and harder to accept.
Shiro blows his palm to calm down the energy and relax, regaing his composure. The Red Paladin joins him on the top of the fallen robeast and pack him on the back. “Good job.”
“You too.”
“I gotta go. Sorry.”
“Sure. Sure…”
Shiro can’t say he isn’t disappointed, but they’re heroes with a secret identity. They can’t share often moments like the one they had last time. And he himself has something urgent to do. He jumps from a roof to another, reaching an empty hall to transform back.
With Black’s annoyance, Shiro shoves him not so gently in his pocket as the rushes towards the cafeteria. Keith isn’t inside, so Shiro starts worried. Around him, other people are searching for friend and family. It happens always after a robeast’s attack.
“Keith!” he calls. “Keith!”
“I’m here!”
Keith is coming from another street, one near the building Shiro left him before. Relieved he isn’t hurt by the laser, he grips his arm a little. “Are you okay?”
Keith nods. “The Black Paladin brought me to safety.”
“Oh, cool.” Shiro hopes to have an enough poker face. “How it is, to be saved by one of Paris’ heroes?”
“You tell me,” Keith replies. “People say you get saved by the Red Paladin all the time.”
Shiro coughs a little. It’s true that robeast appeared often in the place he is and, without his transformation, he’s an easier target to them. And being saved by the Red Paladin… “Not bad, right?”
“Right. But I would have preferred not to be interrupted.”
“You and me both.” Shiro remembers Sendak’s call from before and decides to ignore it. He can use the excuse of the robeast, after all. His cellphone broke, no big deal. “But the day is still long, if you’re still free.” Shiro hopes, really hopes, that the sadness emanated from the Robeast doesn’t soak everything else.
It seems it doesn’t, because Keith’s face brightens. “I am.” But then his expression fells, as he shots a look at the cafeteria of his friend’s parent. It is a mess, because most people, escaping, threw the tables on the ground, and so the flowers and everything. Maybe the sadness it because the destruction the Robeasts bring.
“We should give them a hand,” Shiro says.
“It is okay with you?” Keith asks, unsure.
“Of course. I haven’t finish to taste all the pastry after all.”
The spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up the cafeteria, and they receive an entire new tray of cake sample as a reward, alongside a milkshake made from heaven. It’s Shiro best date from a long time.
***
In the cafeteria, Keith sits down with his work group and eats a chicken sandwich that is probably been made three weeks ago. At some point, he gives up and throws it in the can.
“See? Look here.” Lance pocks at the screen of Pidge’s laptop, where the video of the defeat of the last robeast is playing. A local channel television registered the fight. “If the Blue Paladin had been there, he would have frozen those arms, disarming the robeast from his lasers.”
“It would have melted ice like nothing,” Pidge replies. “Vines would have been better, so the Green Paladin was the better choice.”
“No way.”
“Well, the Yellow Paladin would have opened a hole in the ground,” Hunk adds.
“For hiding himself inside!” Lance shakes his head. “It’s pretty oblivious the Blue Paladin is the best choice.”
“Which one?” Pidge asks. “We know very well two people are behind the Blue Paladin’s mask, a boy and a girl.”
“Well, the girl. Of course.”
Keith listens to their conversation pretending to not paying attention. He feels Red moving inside his pocket. Even Red knows Keith is a bad liar, the reason he wants as much as possible avoiding questions about the Paladins.
“How do you think the Paladins are chosen?” Hunk asks. “I mean, we never see a fight without Red or Black, while we can’t see the others as much.”
Silence feel on the group, as they look at each other. “Maybe the other are pretty busy people,” Pidge says. “Maybe they live outside Paris most of the time.”
“This doesn’t explain why there are two Blue Paladins,” Hunk answers back.
Keith can’t refrain himself anymore. “Maybe there aren’t only two Blue Paladins,” he says. “We don’t know who there is under their mask. Maybe, every time there is a different Yellow Paladin, or a different Green Paladin too.”
“Nah, that’s just not possible,” Pidge says, and she turns her head again to her laptop.
“And how do you know?”
“It just…” she trails off. “It doesn’t make sense, that’s all.”
Red is enjoying the scene as much as Keith. It’s funny to see the three of them trying to play indifference, unable to tell what they know because they aren’t supposed to know. To not embarrassed them more, Keith drops the conversation and takes off his cellphone. There is a message.
“Well, see you.”
“You don’t stay for the afternoon lessons?” Lance asks.
“Sorry, I have work to do.”
He takes his backpack and leaves the cafeteria. Eight metro stop later, he reaches the quartier of Paris next to the monumental cemetery. There is a small house there, caught between two taller building. It looks out of place, and it are. Keith guesses magic has something to do with it.
He rings at the door.
“Oh, Keith! Here you are!” Coran moves from the door to let him enters. “You’re just in time for tea and biscuit.”
“Oh, thanks, But I hope you don’t call me for that.”
“No, it’s just a nice addition.”
Once the door is closed behind them, Red emerges from his pocket and flies into the dining room. She lands directly into the tray of biscuit and puts twice in her mouth.
“Come on, Red!” Allura protests, with a slightly frown. Blue takes the cup of tea and brings it to her. She accepts it with a slightly smile. “Thanks. You should teach your kwami better,” she adds, in Keith’s direction.
“Hello to you too,” Keith comments drily. He sits down in the armchair in front of hers. “And you know better than me that Red doesn’t listen very well.”
“Yeah, she’s a brat.” But there is an affectionate tone in her voice, and she lend forward to rub Red’s small head with the point of her index finger. Red scowls as she eats another biscuit.
“Ah, yes, it’s a little troublemaker this one, isn’t it?”
Coran pours a cup of tea for Keith too, while Blue offers him a biscuit. Keith accepts them both with grace and let Blue brushes his hand a little, until Red starts growls. With a snort, Blue lands in the small table and joins Green, who is using a stray to drink the tea for a cup too big for her. Yellow is sleeping in Allura’s lap, a small ball curled up.
“So, what is this emergency you talked about?” Keith asks, before eating the biscuit.
Allura takes off her cellphone and show him a website. From Keith’s knowledge, it is a meeting website. There is no photo in the profile of the person, and the description only says, “I’m looking for Miss Blue Paladin. Please. I fall in love with you since the first moment I saw you. I want to meet you. Please respond.”
“Oh,” Keith comments.
“I wouldn’t mind too much,” Allura says, “but this kind of announcements are everywhere. I found them on every meeting website, on Facebook, on twitter, even on eBay!”
“And do you think is a trap?”
“Of course it is,” Allura replied. “And a poor one. I don’t think Haggar is behind it, but still we need to find out who they are and why they’re doing it.”
“The best course of action would be answer to one of the announcement and see their next move,” Coran says. “It is possible they will set up a meeting. We can’t go there without a backup plan and your assistance.”
Keith sips his tea. “Have you wondered why the Blue Paladin?”
“The girl Blue Paladin,” Allura specifies. “They’re sexist. They think it’ll be easy with a girl.”
“Pidge’s a girl too,” Keith points out.
“Oh. Right.” Allura crosses her arms. “Then maybe they have some counterattack only from the Blue Paladin too, and not against the Green Paladin.”
“Or maybe,” Keith says, “it’s Lance all along who had this weirdly feeling that he’s your soulmate since you both are the Blue Paladin.”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous.” Allura watches Keith’s slightly movement on the eyebrow and opens her mouth in shock. “My God. It is true?”
“Well, it’s not like I saw them writing those posts,” Keith answers. “But since you transformed in the Blue Paladin, he’s been pestering me every time I bring Blue to him because he wants me to introduce you. Last time I said to him I don’t know who you are to knock him off and that is probably his plan B.”
“I can’t believe it.” Blue moves to Allura’s shoulder and gives her a small pat.
“Positive thing, we don’t have any more enemies than Haggar,” Coran says.
“You should have told me.” Allura takes Blue and pinches his cheek.
“I think he wants me to introduce you two.” Keith takes another biscuit, saving it from Red’s wrath.
“Absolutely no. Our identities must remain secret for our own safety.” She takes a long sigh and she allows herself to relax in her armchair. For the movement, Yellow lifts his head a little, annoyed, before curls again in her lap. “Why you had to choose a womanizer as the Blue Paladin?”
“You told me Blue is the kwami for people with potential,” Keith replies. “You should have chosen another kwami. Pidge and Hunk wouldn’t have done that.”
“Let’s say we’re both at fault here.”
“Oh, no, no. I won’t take the fault for Lance’s actions.”
Allura smiles. “Sorry. I made a fuss over everything.”
“You didn’t know.” Red flies to Keith’s arm and he offers her his cup. She licks the tea remaining sitting on his arm. “By the way, do you make any progress in the search of White?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Allura shakes her head. “Neither I manage to find information about Haggar. I know she’s using a corrupted version of the magic that created the kwami, but this only lead isn’t bring me anywhere.”
Keith looks at her eyes, the anger that flares on them as she speaks about Haggar. “Listen,” he says. “I had the chance to speak with the Black Paladin.”
Immediately, Allura frowns. “I know you consider him your partner…”
“He is my partner.”
“…but Black has been stolen from here. From his house. It wasn’t mean to happen. And if he is the thief-”
“He isn’t,” Keith replies. “The ring that kept Black was a present.”
“So he told.”
Keith frowns and he turns his eyes off her. He understands Allura, he does, but sometimes she refutes to accept there could be other way around. Red places under Keith’s neck and purrs.
“The kwami were created by Alfor to maintain the balance of the universe,” Coran says. “They weren’t supposed to being use to fight, and they weren’t supposed to be given to anyone without the Master’s approval, to avoid them being corrupted by dark magic.”
“I already know it.” Keith caresses Red’s head. “But if the Black Paladin received the kwami from someone else, he’s not his fault. Maybe he can help. He helped me a lot.”
“Maybe not,” Allura agrees. “But we can’t risk to reveal our identity to him. He may think he’s right, but we don’t know if someone is controlling him.”
Keith doesn’t answer. They had the same conversation over and over and he haven’t managed to convince Allura yet. “I get it,” he says. “I’m just lonely sometimes.”
She places her hand on his knees. “We are here for you.”
“I know,” he says, grateful. But Allura doesn’t fight at his side each time. It’s different. “But defeating the Robeast is becoming more difficult each time. I need allies. I need the Black Paladin.”
Allura ignores the second part. “They’re stronger?”
“Yes, but it’s not the only reason. It is the sadness… Everytime I feel sad. Sad for them, sad for my victory. I think they’re emanating it.”
“This is very possible,” Allura comments. “Corrupted magic comes from negative emotion, negative feeling. Humans should be able to take them under control, but if they don’t, they’re easily victims of the darkness. Whoever Haggar is, her magic is create by sadness.”
“If we manage to find her, we can defeat her by making her happy?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the reason of her sadness can’t be chance.” She sighs. “Sometimes we just can’t save them all.” Her hand is still on his knees. “It doesn’t mean we won’t try until the last breath.”
“Of course.”
“Most important, you have to be happy to fight her. Keep positive despite all the negative feelings around you.”
“And speaking of more positive things…” Coran chips in. “How was your date? The one with the super handsome world model?”
“How…?” Keith pales. “How did you know?”
“Well, it’s online. Someone photograph the two of you at that café and put it online,” Allura comments.
“I can’t believe it.”
“Don’t worry, young boy,” Coran laughs. “You aren’t so famous yet, nobody will recognize you.”
“Well, Kolivan might.” Keith doesn’t want a lecture about sidelining with the enemy.
It was all the robeast’s fault. It was the robeast that forced Shiro to take off his disguise. He just hopes Shiro wouldn’t have problems because of it.
***
“And, of course, you won’t see him again,” Zarkon finishes his lecture about the pictures.
“With due all respect, our agreement doesn’t involve my private life,” Shiro replies.
“No, but our agreement,” and Zarkon puts a lot of weight in that word, “affirms you shouldn’t put the Galra Company in embarrassment. Now I receive calls and calls from journalist asking me if you’re leaving for the Marmora Company. You understand my position.”
“I do,” Shiro says unwilling.
“That’s all.”
Black growls inside his pocket. Shiro knows he’s right, but at the same time he doesn’t want to exacerbate his relationship with Zarkon. He isn’t himself recently, not as the first time he hires Shiro. And he’s getting worse.
“I won’t see Keith again.” After all, Zarkon can’t forbid him to see the Red Paladin, and for now Shiro for now it’s enough.
“Good.”
Thinking about the Red Paladin made Shiro remembers something. “About the ring you gave to me…”
Zarkon frowns. “Ring?”
“Yes. The one at Christmas, the first year I started worked here.”
“I never gave a present to you.”
Shiro blinks. “Oh. I must remember wrong, I guess.”
He doesn’t. He’s pretty sure it was Zarkon’s himself to approach him at the Christmas Party of the company and congratulated to him with that present. Still, he doesn’t press further. There could be a reason for Zarkon’s behavior.
“I think we’re done.”
“Yes.” Shiro nods and excuses himself from the room.
He put his hand inside his pocket and Black rubs against his palm. “I know,” he murmurs. “There is something strange. You don’t remember anything?”
He feels the sorrow and the sadness inside Black and he doesn’t dare to ask further. Whatever secret Black is hiding, Shiro decides to trust him. Until that moment, he doesn’t have any reason to believe Black is plotting against him.
“Champion.”
Shiro turns at the calling and sees Honerva, Zarkon’s secretary, standing in front of him. She isn’t the only one to call him that, but she’s the one that created the nickname for him, after Shiro was able to win the cover of Vogue for three times in a row. Shiro isn’t sure he likes it.
Also, Honerva is a little bit unnerving. Zarkon trusts her more than anyone, and this is understandable since she was his wife, but that also means Honerva is basically the vice-president of the company. It happens rarely that Zarkon opposes to her decisions.
“Yes?”
“Can I speak to you in private for a second? It’s important.”
“If it’s about what happen with the paparazzi…” Shiro begins. He doesn’t want another lecture.
“It’s not about that.”
Without waiting for the answer at her question, Honerva points at her office, opens the door and enters, fully expecting Shiro to follow her. With a sigh, he does. Black trembles a little inside his pocket and for a second Shiro stops, but it’s too late. He’s already inside the room and the door closes by itself behind him.
The room is dark, unnaturally dark. Shiro blinks to adapt his eyes and moves his head looking for Honerva. It’s like she disappears. Black trembles again and Shiro grips him to reassuring him. He turns to open the door, but it’s locked.
A figure appears suddenly at his side and throws him in the ground. Shiro recognizes Honerva even if she’s unrecognizable: her perfect hairs are now down, messy, her eyes are big, yellow, and the mouth is turned into a scary smirk.
“Give me… give me… The miraculous…”
She grips Shiro’s arm and tries to take off his pocket. And Shiro understand to face the true identity of Haggar, the which that keep sending Robeast around Paris. So Keith is right: she’s looking for the Miraculous.
“I search for them… I need them…”
Shiro kicks her away, smashing her against the desk, and he jumps still. Black flies out of the pocket. It isn’t the time to worry about keeping his identity a secret, and he can stop the Robeast if he defeats Haggar now. “Black. Transforme moi!”
Black turns in the usual purple lights, but as he tries to enter in the ring, black sparkles of electricity flies around. Black is pushes backwards and he smashes against the glass of the windows. “Black!”
Shiro rushes to him. He feels something is wrong with his own legs: in the dark, he looks at them and sees dark spreading upon his pants, trapping him and paralyzing his muscles. The waves of sadness, the same of the Robeast, invests him and freezes all his muscles.
Laughers spread around him: Honerva disappears again and, in that moment, Shiro has no idea where she is. It looks she’s everywhere and nowhere at the same moment. Black regains his composure and tries to attack the dark, with the only result to rusk being captured that the substance. He growls, angry.
“Resistance is futile, Champion,” Honerva says. “Give me your Miraculous, or you’ll be turn into a Robeast too.”
Shiro takes a deep breath, trying to keep the sadness under control. He closes his eyes a second. When he opens them again, Honerva is in front of him, ready to take off his ring. Shiro head-butts her, making her stumbles for the time necessary for him to uses his mouth to grab his ring from his finger. He opens the window behind him and throws the ring outside.
“Black! Go!” He feels Black’s hesitation. “Go!” he screams again, and this time Black nods and flies outside, following the trace of the ring.
The last thing Shiro ears before the substance swallows him entirely, sinking into darkness and sadness, is Honerva’s scream of anger and disappointment and, for him, it’s a victory.
***
Lance was the first one to notice that something is off. They are in the library, studying. Pidge has his eyes focused on her laptop, Keith is reading, Hunk is scribbled down his meta. Only Lance is annoyed and, as he tries to distract the other out of his boredom, his eyes tend to wander on the big windows next to their table.
“Ehi, look out!”
“Lance, please, stop,” Pidge comments. “If you don’t want to study, go take a walk.”
“No! I mean for real this time! Look!”
There is a sort of panic in Lance’s voice that make everyone turn their head at the window and, a second later, stand up to look better. They can see the Eiffel tower in the far and, on the top, a purple sphere surrounds by thunders. Dark clouds spread from it and start to cover the sky.
Red grumbles inside Keith’s pocket and he swallows, as he realizes he can feel the force of the dark magic, stronger than any Robeast he faced until that moment. Around them, the other people in the library are panicking too: they can’t be seen because the two libraries stop the vision of the other table, but their agitated voices are audible.
Lance started and screeches as a darck ball smashes against the glass window. Hunk hides behind him, while Pidge, careful, squints her eyes to see as the small ball is moving on the windowsill.
“No way…” she exhales, and the curiosity push the other three boy towards.
Keith’s eyes bulges: it isn’t a ball, but a kwami. A black kwami that grips his small paws around a silver ring. There is no doubt in Keith’s mind he’s the Black Paladin’s kwami. In a swift, he opens the window and Black jumps in his arm.
“It is-” Lance starts, then he stops. “What it is?”
Keith holds Black gently in his palm. Black is trembling, but there is also a fierceness and an anger in his small body. He can speak with Keith in the same way Red does, floating his mind with consciousness. Red roars and bites the clothes of the pocket.
The revelation hits Keith as a cold shower. It happened before that the Black Paladin didn’t arrive in time to help him with a Robeast, but it was different. The Black Paladin’s secret identity could lead him away and made him unable to transform. Knowing he was in an actual danger is a total different matter.
Keith shots a look at the others. They are worried, because of course they also understand what means having the Black kwami with the Miraculous loosing around instead with his Paladin. It isn’t the time to keep secret anymore.
“Let’s go,” he orders. He doesn’t wait for them to follow and heads to the exit.
“Uhm… Keith?” Hunk calls, as he reached him. “The safe bunker of the school is the other way. You know, standard procedure in case of a Robeast’s attack.”
“We don’t have time for that. The Black Paladin is in danger and we need to help him.”
“Well, in that case, we should…” Lance starts, unsure how to explain without exposing. “Like, wait for the Red Paladin? He would know how to help. We are just normal boys after all. And girl. Because Pidge’s a girl. Normal boys and a normal girl.”
Pidge snorts. “I agree. I’m not sure running towards the danger is a good idea.”
Keith sighs. “We don’t have the time,” he repeats, “for you to stay here and wait for the Red Paladin to bring you the Miraculous. We need to take them as soon as possible.”
He can see the surprise in their eyes. “And how in the hell do you know that?” Lance protests, before Red gets off from Keith’s pocket and places herself in front of Lance’s face. She sticks out her small tongue, the she returns to Keith and lands on his shoulder.
“Let’s go,” Keith says.
“You are the Red Paladin?” Hunk’s voice is high. “How? When? Where?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure those are the right questions,” Pidge comments. “For all this time, Keith? For real?”
“I can’t believe it! You owe us an explanation! And the Blue Paladin’s phone number!”
“Let’s go. I’ll give all the explanations later.”
The underground is closed, so they had to walk until Montmartre. Both Lance and Hunk doesn’t stop complain about it. When they reach Master Allura’s house, the sky is totally pitchy black and they can hear the roars of the Robeast in the far. The atmosphere is gloomy: not only darkness takes over, but even the sadness it brings with her. Keith must admit he’s happy Lance’s with them: he’s the positive one, and they need him right now, to contrast bad feelings.
“Which place is this?” Lance asks.
Coran opens the door before Keith has the chance to knock. “My boy, finally-” he stops, noticing the others behind Keith. “Oh, well, this is unexpected.”
Blue, Green and Yellow fly through the door and smash against the chest of their paladins. Keith smiles, as Red purrs from his shoulder. They have a great relationship and Keith can understand the other kwami fell lonely, to be separate each time from the people they offer their power to.
“Get inside,” Coran says, and they obey.
Allura sits at her usual armchair, and she doesn’t look surprise to see that Keith brings the other with him. She reserves them a brief smile, before her expression becomes serious and she gestures at the other chairs and the sofa.
“Please, Paladins. The situation is serious and we will need the help of all of you.”
Pidge elbows at Lance, that is staring with open mouth at Allura. Hunk smiles at her, a little embarrassed. “So this is, like, the kwami’s lair?” he asks.
Coran is about to start is usual speech about this being Master Alfor’s, the alchemist, house and how in the past he was able to create life in the form of kwami, but Keith cut him off.
“Master, the situation is even more worrisome.” And he opens his palm, where for all the journey he kept Black safe.
Black moves to the table, placing the ring there, before jumping in Allura’s lap. She brushes him. “Welcome back, Black.”
Even from the distance, Keith can feel the sorrow of Black. He’s happy to be reunited with the other kwami and with the Master, but his loyal still belong to the person that hides behind the mask of the Black Paladin.
“I understand your concern,” Allura says. “But right now we must focus on defeating Haggar. The Black Paladin might be a good man, but he wasn’t chosen and-”
Black growls and he turns on Keith.
“We are going to save the Black Paladin first,” Keith states.
Allura sighs. “I know you see him as your partner-”
Again, she is interrupted. “He is my partner. He helped me out countless time before and I won’t give up on him.”
“We don’t even know where he is.”
“Black knows. He was captured by Haggar, that much is clear.”
“Master,” Coran intervenes. “The Black Paladin has spent much time with Black, it wouldn’t be unsurprising if there is some magic lingering on him. And if he’d been capture, thus could explain the force of the magic you’re feeling.”
“That’s true,” Allura admits. “Right now, the attack comes from two different points. The Eiffel tower, that spreads dark magic around, and the Triumph Arc: Robeasts keep being create from it.”
“Haggar has the Black Paladin, so she probably thinks she has the upper hand,” Keith comments. “This is her last attack. We can defeat her if we attack all together.” Both him and Allura’s eyes are on the other Paladins.
Pidge’s look is determined, Hunk looks a little worry, but he nods. Only Lance looks perplexed. “Why did you choose us?” he asks, at last.
Keith blinks. “Why shouldn’t have?”
“I mean… I’m not a hero. I’m a boy from Cuba that likes drawing even if isn’t so good at it?”
“The first time the Black Paladin can’t help me,” Keith tells, “I was alone in the fight. What I needed back then wasn’t a hero. It was a friend that could watch my back.”
“Okay…” Lance smiles. “I think I can do that.”
“Good.” Keith pats his kneel before standing up. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Since you want to save the Black Paladin first, the best course of action would be reaching the Eiffel Tower,” Coran says. “I suspect Haggar is keeping him there, using his energy to charge the dark magic.”
“But we can’t let the Robeasts roam free,” Allura adds. “There are too much of them and they keep coming. You’re four: spit up in two team and one of you will take care of the Robeast. Once the Black Paladin is safe, you’ll attack the Triumph Arc together.” The all nods. “Now, take your Miraculous and transform.”
Pidge puts on her bracelet and Hunk his bandana. Lance hesitates to take his necklace, his eyes fixed on Allura, who nods. Black moves from Allura’s lap and land on the ring. He roars in Keith’s direction.
“I… I can’t,” Keith says. “I am the Red Paladin. You’ll get your Paladin back… I’m make sure of it.”
Allura shakes her head. “Black wants to help to. He wants you to use his power.”
Keith can still feel the light weight of Red on his shoulder. “Master, what about you…”
“Black chooses you.”
Red purrs in Keith’s ear. Then, she slowly slips on his arm until she reaches the gloved hand. With her small teeth, she tries to take it off. Keith understands and help her. Then, he takes the ring and put it on, with the mental promise of give it back to the rightful owner.
“Black. Transforme moi!”
The energy of Black feels different, and so the armor that wears. He doesn’t have a metal arm either. But Keith can feel the force of the Black Paladin is used to have as partner, and the reassuring spirit of Black in him. Red looks at him and nods. She takes a jump, glove still in her paws, and places it on Lance’s kneel.
Lance blinks. He looks around, but all the other are froze. So slowly, he rubs Blue’s small head. He takes off the necklace and leans forward to Allura. “Will you take care of Blue for me?” he says. “Me and Red have a friend to help.”
Allura smiles and nods. She takes the necklace as Lance put the glove on.
“Be careful with Red,” Keith warns, after they both transformed. It’s strange to see his armor on someone else, but he knows Red is in good hand. “Let’s go.”
When they leave Allura’s house, the situation is already out of control. The sky is completely dark and there are Robeast all around.
“Okay, guys,” Keith starts. “Let’s split up. Lance, you come with me at the Eiffel Tower. You all, go to the Triumph Arc and stop as many Robeast as you can. We’ll see there.”
They all nod, before jumping on the nearest roofs and rush away. Lance follows Keith in the direction of the Eiffel Tower, but soon enough a Robeast reach them. It looks it is intended to protect the area around so they won’t be able to stop the dark magic at the tower.
Lance throws a couple of fire ball at it, enough to stop it for a second. “Go,” he yells to Keith. “I’ll keep it busy.”
“Be careful,” Keith advises him, before nodding.
With the Robeast out of the way, Keith lands on the tower with ease. He looks around, tensed, until he sees a figure approaching him. He keeps his breath as he recognizes him.
“Shiro…?”
His usually empty sleeve his now ripped, and a gigantic and demonic arm pulsing dark energy is there. Shiro’s gaze is off, as he doesn’t recognized Keith.
“Shiro was the Black Paladin all this time…?” Keith whispers. Black’s feeling rushes on his blood, revealing the truth. “Don’t worry, we’ll save him.”
It isn’t going to be easy. Shiro looks as he is hypnotized, or better, just an empty body that moves only for the mission to kill Keith. Keith tries to speak through him, but Shiro isn’t even listening. The only positive thing in that situation is that Shiro hasn’t been transformed in a Robeast. He still has his body, even if it his grabbed by the fake arm. There is still hope to save him and Keith has no intention to stop until he manages to do so.
“Black, maybe if you talk with him…”
Inside him, Black shakes his head. Keith understands Black wants to help Shiro as much as Keith, but he’s scared of being vulnerable in front at someone that has dark magic with it. Keith is ready to give it a shot. As he dodges Shiro’s blows, he concentrates the purple energy in the palm of his hand and then closes his first to hide it. He is on the edge of the tower, in front of Shiro, who, with a lap forward, manages to pin him down on the cold iron.
“Shiro, please…” Then, he let Black separated from him. “It’s me.”
Shiro stops. A second. “Keith…?”
It’s enough: Keith grabs the fake arm. “Cataclysm!” He feels the metal crumbles under the strength of his blow and the dark magic flashes against him and then disperses in the air. Shiro yells, his human hand presses against his temple as he stumbles backward.
He fells, but Keith is fast to grab him before Shiro can hit the ground. Shiro blinks: his eyes look more lively now. Black grabs Shiro’s shirt with his small paws. This time, the sadness Keith feels is real, is his own, alongside with the relief to have Shiro safe in his arm.
“K-keith… what…?”
“It’s okay,” Keith says. “It’s okay now.”
Shiro blinks again. “I tried to kill you.”
“You weren’t yourself.”
Shiro nods, even if he doesn’t look convinced. He smiles at Black and rubs his head. “How do you find me?”
“Black came to search help for you,” Keith explains. “I am the Red Paladin.”
Shiro is surprised, for a second, but then his sighs. “I should have known,” he comments. “Where is Red now?”
“With a friend. The situation is a little bit dangerous right now.” He looks around and, in the distance, he can see Lance still fighting with the Robeast. “Do you remember what happened?” he asked, but before Shiro has a chance to answer, another Robeast joins the battle, leaving Lance to deal with two of them.
“You have to go, Keith.”
“But you’re the Black Paladin,” Keith protests.
“I’m not in condition to fight right now,” Shiro replies. “And Black trusts you. After all, you are my partner.”
Keith smiles. Black moves on his shoulder and he nods. “You’ll be fine?”
“Don’t worry. Go save Paris.”
***
Shiro waits until Keith and the new Red Paladin defeat the two Robeast before moving. His mind is still fuzzy and his body slow, but he had to do something. He knows Keith can handle things, and this was the reason he lent Black to him. It doesn’t mean he isn’t going to help as he can. Action will made the bad feelings go away.
He climbs down the tower, the cellphone miraculously in his pocket. He calls Thace. “Where is Honerva?” he demands, without even greeting him. Luckily, Thace is also a man of action.
“She said she’s at Garla Manor.”
“Thank you.”
It isn’t far from the place Shiro is, but with bus and metro blocked because of the battle, he still takes time to reach it. Shiro hopes the Paladins will be fine in the meantime. He rings at the gate, but no one answer. It’s strange, because there are a lot of servants working there, but maybe they are hiding because of the battle.
Even with an arm, he manages to jump on the other side of the wall, then break a windows and enters in the house. It is completely silent, no a sign of person around. Shiro heads for Zarkon’s office: it’s empty too, but the family painting that hung behind the desk was moved, revealing a secret passage behind.
Shiro climbs the stairs carefully. He’s surprise to realize there is an entire hidden garden behind the house. Dark energy comes from something Shiro can’t see very well on the other side of the garden. He gets near, but more steps he takes, more sadness descends upon him. He swallows, and blinks, trying to not being overwhelming by it. It’s a sadness very similar to the one he felt as he defeated the Robeast, so Shiro suspects that thing, whatever it is, could be the source of all Robeast.
As he is in front of the thing, the sadness is so strong Shiro is crying even if he doesn’t realize it. He isn’t his sadness, but it doesn’t matter: it is something that attaches in every fiber of Shiro’s body. In the middle of the dark magic, Shiro can see a more definite object. He concentrates his mind on positive thoughts as he leans his hand to grab it: dark magic wraps around his arm and the sadness becomes icy, frozen his entire being.
He grits his teeth and manages to grab the thing, that is small enough to be inside his palm. He pulls it behind and takes two steps backwards. The dark magic screeches, but it’s disappearing. He opens his palm: the sadness is vanishing too, revealing the thing it’s a pin.
A second later, a small white kwami emerges from it.
Shiro blinks, surprised, but he’s easy to recover. Unlike Keith, he doesn’t have the occasion to meet other kwamis, but they should have get the power of their enemies came from a kwami too. White looks at him, head titled a little.
“Ehi, little one,” Shiro smiles. “You’re safe now.”
Shiro’s eyes lift: the dark magic is completely disappeared, revealing a glass sarcophagus under it. The body of Lotor Galra, still intact even if a year had passed since his death. It looks as he’s sleeping. It’s at the same time creepy and gloomy.
White flies near Shiro’s heart and fills all his questions: Honerva became crazy because of his son’s death and she tried to bring him back to live. She stole both White and Black, to use their magic to do so, but her sadness was so strong that everything she touches turned into dark magic. Zarkon, realizing her plan, manages to hid Black, but White is used to create the Robeast in order to capture the other kwamis.
“It means now Honerva isn’t able anymore to create Robeast?” Shiro asks. White shakes his head. Free from the sadness, White isn’t the source of the dark magic anymore.
“Do you want to help me?” Shiro saw how many Robeast Honerva created this time: it’s probably her last try, her last way to save her son. Shiro can see Keith and the other fighting and he doesn’t want to let them alone.
“White! Transforme moi!”
The white armor doesn’t give him the arm as Black, but Shiro still feels the energy running through him. And he has wings, white, large wings that let him flying fast and steady.
He reaches the Triumph Arc in a second: the other are still fighting and Shiro can see how tired they are. Only two Robeasts remain, alongside with a person that is controlling them. Behind the armor Shiro realizes it’s Zarkon.
The Green Paladin’s vine blocks one of the Robeast in the ground, and the new Red Paladin defeats it with his fire. On the other side, the Blue Paladin ices the Robeast and the Yellow Paladin buries it under a pile of rocks.
Shiro realizes he doesn’t feel the sadness anymore. It can still affect the others, but not White. After having freed him from the initial source of all the dark magic, it is possible Shiro becomes immune to it.
Keith is fighting Zarkon himself, and Shiro lands next to him, parrying one of Zarkon’s blow. Then, they both jumps backwards to put some distance from him.
“Shiro…? Is that you?” Keith’s voice is surprised.
Shiro nods.
“How do you find White?” the Blue Paladin demands.
“I’ll explain later. For now, we should concentrate on the battle. Haggar lost her source of power, if we can win here, we win the war.”
“How can we do it?” Keith asks. The other Paladins joins them, all around them.
“Dark magic is created by sadness,” Shiro explains. “By a mother that lost her son.”
“We know that,” the Blue Paladin says. “Well, not the second part, but about the sadness. White and Black, combined together, can defeat dark magic, but they will need positive energy.”
“Positive energy?”
The Blue Paladin nods. She leans her hand, so that the other Paladins can grab them. “Just think about your most positive memory,” she comments. “Mine is the first time my father let me help with the kwami.”
“Mine’s the day my father and my mother and my brother came to my first exhibition,” the Green Paladin says.
“The first time I served one of my cake to a client at my parents’ cafeteria,” is the memory of the Yellow Paladin.
The Red Paladin sighs. “The time I fell in love with an amazing girl.”
Keith leans forward his hand for Shiro to take it. “The day I realized my crush appreciated my art.”
Shiro smiles. “The day the Red Paladin saved me for the first time.”
White’s magic is different from Black. Black is raw power, is destruction, White is soft, is reconstruction. Together, they hit Zarkon and erase the dark magic that surrounded him, at the same time they let him live and free him from his sadness.
When the attack ends, there isn’t the usual sadness that came from the Robeats. It is more melancholies, a sweeter feeling, the realization that some things won’t return back.
Keith and Shiro are still hand in hand, as they observe Zarkon. His armor is gone, and he looks around, confused. One of his hand is on his head.
“What… what happened? Where am I?”
“You don’t remember?” Keith asks.
“No… I…” he blinks and then he jumps still as he notices a figure lying down a couple of meters from him. “Honerva!” He reaches her and keeps her in his arm. He’s almost on tears. “I can’t lose you too…”
She blinks her eyes, awake, her hair now completely white and her face twisted in a crazy expression.
“The Miraculous…” she murmurs. “They can bring back Lotor… We need them…”
“No, they can’t,” the Blue Paladin says. “They weren’t made for it. There is something not even magician can defeat. And definitely not with dark magic.”
Honerva is still delirious and Zarkon higs her tightened.
“Do not fall into sadness again,” Shiro advices him. “She needs you.”
The Blue Paladin brushes Keith’s back. “Let’s go.”
***
“So… it was all because the grieve of a mother losing his son?” Hunk comments.
“So it seems,” Shiro nods.
Silence fills the room. They are all there, in Allura’s house, sitting around the table with Coran serving tea. The kwami are all around, flying from Paladin to Paladin and take bits of the biscuits. Even if they found out about their identities only few hours before, there is an atmosphere of familiarity between them Keith is feeling and can appreciate.
“Do not try to feel too bad,” Allura comments. “The loss of a child is terrible. But us, as a human, need to learn to control our feeling so they can’t become dangerous for others. Sadness, anger, all of them… you prove to be worth to be a Paladin because you understand how to keep them in check.”
“I’m not so sure about it,” Pidge comments. Keith is sure she’s remembering the day his father and brother were endangered by a Robeast and she almost lost control of the power of Green.
Allura places a hand on her shoulder. “What make you worthy isn’t the ability to not feel sad, but to not let it affect others. Honerva was sad and made everyone else miserable too, including her own husband.”
Pidge nods and smiles, grateful.
“So… what happen now?” Lance asks.
“Since the enemy has been defeated, it’s time for the kwami to return in the box, and for you to your life.”
“Wait, we can’t keep them?” Hunk looks at Yellow, sleeping in his lap.
“Unfortunately, no. They aren’t pet, but magical being. They will disappear otherwise.”
Coran adds, “they can live in the human world for only a small amount of time.”
All of them exchange looks with their kwami. It’s hard to tell them goodbye, especially hard for Shiro and Keith, that are used to their company for much longer. But this is part of life and, in a sort of way, Keith is sure the kwami gave them more with their presence that what they will steal with their absence.
Keith caresses Red’s head and gives a small bump to Black, before he goes to hug Shiro together with White. Pidge and Hunk are crying shamelessly as they grip Green and Yellow in their hands. One after another, they place the miraculous in the box.
Lace is the last. “But wait… what if the sadness to be separated from Blue or Red turn me into a supervillain?”
“Lance,” Allura admonishes him, but there is a little smile on her face.
“Don’t worry,” Hunk pats Lance’s back. “We’ll cheer you up.”
“I don’t want you to do so!”
Coran takes the box and put it away. “Since there is still the curfew because what happened and it is better for everyone to avoid the lingering sadness after the battle, what about a pizza party?”
Allura is about to replies, but Lance and Hunk are faster than her to accept. It follows a long list of website for choosing the right restaurant and a numbers of phone call for the parents.
It takes a lot for Keith to manage to have a couple of minutes alone with Shiro.
“You seem sad.”
“I’m not turning into a supervillain,” Shiro reassures him. Keith shot him a not amused look. “I’m a little sad about what happened. It can’t be helped, I suppose.”
“Zarkon seemed free from the control of Honerva’s sadness. Maybe you can help him to gain some… closure.”
“Maybe.” Shiro nods. “Do you really believe I hated you?”
Keith flustered. “Oh, well, it’s not my fault you had this super-model-that-only-considered-big-fashion-names aura.”
“Oh, God. Did I really have that?”
“Yeah, maybe not. Maybe it’s all me.”
“That’s reassuring.”
Keith smiles. “I’m glad you were my partner all along.”
“I’m glad too.” Shiro smiles back. “And now that the cat is out of the box and everything, do you think we can… try another date? One without Robeast. Just… to help our sadness go away.”
“Yeah, I don’t really want to fight you again a supervillain, so I don’t have a choice but accept.”
“Bolt to you assume I’ll be the supervillain again.”
“Guys, the pizza’s coming!” Lance calls them from the front door.
Keith moves his hand to grab Shiro’s. “You orders pineapple pizza. You are definitely the supervillain here.” -
.
Prologo
Le lenzuola erano bianche, di seta purissima; qualunque altro tipo di stoffa avrebbe potuto irritare la sua delicata pelle. Tre cuscini riempiti di piume d’oca, abbastanza per poterci appoggiare comodamente la testa e non danneggiare il collo, con i boccoli biondi liberi di spargersi attorno. La persiana alla finestra era chiusa, ma permetteva comunque ad alcuni raggi di insinuarsi nella stanza scura e posarsi su di lui, pur senza disturbarlo: d’altronde, non si diceva che il sole baciava i belli?
Cavendish era quindi comodamente sdraiato sul suo letto, dormendo e facendo bei sogni (come avrebbe potuto essere diversamente?), quando il suo vice-capitano ebbe la brillante idea di precipitarsi gridando nella sua cabina, con un seguito di uomini della ciurma piuttosto cospicuo.
“Dannazione!” Cavendish balzò su, spaventato, e poi rivolse loro un’occhiataccia. “Quante volte vi ho detto che non voglio essere svegliato? Questo non farà bene alla mia pelle, me lo sento…” mormorò, accarezzandosi una guancia che ancora presentava le pieghe dei cuscini.
“Sei bellissimo come sempre, Capitano,” cercò di rimediare uno dei suoi uomini, ricevendo un altro sguardo di disapprovazione. Senza trucco e con i capelli tutti all’aria? Ma certo!
“Cosa c’è?” domandò seccato. Prima scopriva cosa volevano, prima poteva andare a sistemarsi, sperando che la sveglia improvvisa non gli avesse fatto venire le occhiaie.
“Guarda qui!” disse il vice-capitano, mostrandogli la prima pagina di un giornale. “Al torneo che si tiene a Dressrosa questo mese hanno messo in palio il Foco Foco!”
“Che hai detto?” Cavendish si mosse gattoni verso di lui sulle lenzuola di seta, strappandogli i fogli di mano e leggendoli talmente in fretta che le frasi assumevano significati casuali. Ovviamente non si trattava del giornale ufficiale controllato dal governo, ma di quello che circolava nell’ambiente della malavita e che ben conosceva ogni singola notizia potesse interessare i pirati o coloro che erano disposti a ricorrere a mezzi non proprio legali. Ed essendo Doflamingo uno dei massimi esponenti della criminalità organizzata della Rotta Maggiore, non c’era dubbio che potesse utilizzare a suo piacimento quel canale di comunicazione.
La notizia doveva essere vera. Il perché il Foco Foco fosse stato messo in palio proprio in quel momento non gli era chiaro, ma ci doveva essere una ragione sotto.
“Non pensi che sia un’ottima occasione?” domandò il suo vice-capitano. “Potresti ottenere un buon frutto e anche avere la possibilità di incontrare uno dei tuoi nemici.”
Cavendish si voltò, passando lo sguardo sulla parete, dove erano disseminate le taglie delle supernova appartenenti alla Worst Generation, ormai completamente illeggibili a causa dell’uso come bersaglio; in alcune c’erano ancora infilati i coltelli. Con un premio del genere in campo, era probabile che almeno una di loro si sarebbe mossa per accaparrarselo. Almeno una.
“In fondo…” mormorò, spostando quasi casualmente una ciocca bionda dietro le spalle, “…un potere bello come il fuoco non sarebbe perfetto per me?” I suoi uomini risposero in coro con grida quasi animalesche: non molto elegante, ma rendeva l’idea. “Benissimo. Cerchiamo di arrivare all’isola più vicina e recuperare un Eternal Pose per Dressrosa.” Scese finalmente dal letto. “Ora fuori di qui, così forse riuscirò a rendermi presentabile!”
Una volta che i suoi uomini chiusero la porta della cabina dietro di loro, Cavendish andò ad aprire la finestra, per far entrare luce ed aria nella stanza. Poi si diresse verso il bagno: doveva essere pronto a quello che sarebbe arrivato.
Avrebbe preso il Foco Foco a qualsiasi costo, ma non per la ragione che la sua ciurma credeva.
Prima Parte
Aprì la manopola dell’acqua e lasciò che l’acqua corresse lungo il fondo della vasca. Mentre aspettava che si riempisse totalmente, tolse la camicia da notte, gettandola in un angolo, e passò ad osservare il suo corpo nudo al grande specchio. Non un livido, una cicatrice, pelle liscia e chiara, splendida. Contemporaneamente, però, una corporatura snella, femminile, che nascondeva la sua vera forza. Non poteva negare che quello fosse stata sempre la causa dei suoi problemi. I femminuccia, i frocetto, le offese in generale si erano sempre sprecate. Non aveva avuto problemi a mettere a posto le persone, anche se non sempre era facile, specie quando veniva preso di mira dai ragazzi più grandi.
La mano gli faceva male: una piccola perdita, rispetto alla soddisfazione di aver appena spaccato il naso a quel tipo.
“Chi è la femminuccia adesso?” domandò, accennando ad un sorriso.
“Bastardo! Adesso te la faccio vedere io! Prendetelo!”
Cavendish sapeva che quel tipo non era solo, i bulli e i codardi non lo erano mai, ma di solito riusciva a cavarsela anche in inferiorità numerica. In quel caso, però, aveva sottovalutato il fatto che i due compagni del deficiente erano più grandi e grossi tipo il doppio di lui. Avrebbe facilmente potuto batterli in velocità e agilità, se non fosse stato per la sua eccessiva sicurezza che l’aveva fatto temporeggiare.
Non importava quanto fosse forte, le mani che gli stavano serrando le braccia sembravano fatte d’acciaio, impedendogli di scappare. Colpì uno dei suoi assalitori con un calcio, ma la posizione non gli permetteva di metterci troppa forza, quindi non sortì alcun effetto sperato. Tornò a rivolgersi verso il tipo dal naso sanguinante, senza vacillare. Non avrebbe mica pianto o implorato, non era una femminuccia, lui. Non era una femmina in nessuna sua parte.
Anche l’altro dovette pensare la stessa cosa, perché sembrava un po’ deluso nel vedere la sua reazione. Ma si riprese in fretta, ghignando e schioccando le dita.
“Più ti guardo più non posso fare a meno di pensare che tu sia una ragazza,” gli disse. “Vediamo un po’ se ce l’hai il pisello là sotto.” Cavendish agitò braccia e gambe il più possibile, sia per rendergli l’operazione più difficile, sia per cercare di sottrarsi alla loro presa, con l’unico risultato di prendersi un destro sul viso, che gli fece sanguinare il labbro. “Ehi, c’è davvero! Una donna col pisello, mai vista una cosa simile!”
“Non sono una donna!” replicò Cavendish con odio. Un naso rotto era decisamente troppo poco per l’umiliazione di ritrovarsi con i pantaloni calati fino alle ginocchia in quella maniera.
“E anche se fosse una donna con un pene, che male ci sarebbe?” commentò allora una voce. Lui alzò lo sguardo e si ritrovò di fronte all’essere più strano che aveva mai visto. La Rotta Maggiore non era esattamente un posto per gente comune, ma quello li superava tutti: una testa enorme, sproporzionata rispetto al corpo, con capelli viola e ricci che la rendevano, se possibile, ancora più grande. La faccia era pesantemente truccata, benché sotto se ne riconoscessero le fattezze di un uomo. E il vestito!
Era così preso a fissarlo che non si accorse che l’uomo aveva infilato le sue unghie nel fianco del suo assalitore e che quest’ultimo, piano piano, stava mutando d’aspetto. Non gli ci volle che poco affinché la trasformazione fosse completa, con quello che indebitamente era un seno femminile in evidenza oltre la camicia aperta. Non solo, tutta la sua corporatura aveva assunto fattezze da donna.
“Donne come donne, uomini come uomini, ma anche donne come uomini e uomini come donne,” disse il nuovo arrivato, particolarmente soddisfatto del risultato, mostrando in evidenza le sue dita, molto più simili a siringhe in quel momento. “Il sesso non è importante, bisogna semplicemente esprimere se stessi.”
Forse stava cercando di dire cose che avessero un qualche tipo di profondità, ma la metamorfosi fu sufficiente a convincere i bulli, quelli che avevano ancora tutte le cose al posto giusto, a scappare; l’altro era troppo sconvolto per riuscire a muoversi o anche solo ad articolare qualcosa di comprensibile, continuava semplicemente a toccarsi le tette, forse sperando di svegliarsi.
“Qual è il tuo nome, ragazzo?” gli domandò il tipo che cambiava sesso alla gente. Cavendish fece un passo indietro: già somigliava ad una femmina, non era necessario che lo diventasse per davvero. Tuttavia inciampò nei sui stessi pantaloni calati, cadendo all’indietro. Pensò che fosse decisamente finita e che forse, almeno, le prese in giro sarebbero cessate. Invece l’uomo si limitò a pulirgli il sangue che gli scivolava dal labbro. “Che peccato, rischiare di rovinare un così bel viso…”
Cavendish si sentì sollevare: era stato appena preso in braccio e caricato sulla spalla come una valigia qualsiasi. “Aspetta! Mettimi giù!” O almeno poteva lasciare che si tirasse su i pantaloni!
In effetti si era trattato di un rapimento in piena regola. Riflettendoci, Cavendish si domandava ancora perché avesse opposto così poca resistenza. Chiuse il rubinetto dell’acqua e controllò che la temperatura fosse accettabile: non voleva certo scottarsi! L’unica spiegazione che si era dato era che, semplicemente, non aveva grandi alternative di fronte a sé e che un cambiamento era sempre meglio che rimanere in quell’isola del cavolo dove passava il tempo a farsi sfottere e a prendere a pugni quelli che lo facevano.
Iva-san, alla fine, gli aveva insegnato molto. Anche se l’inizio non era esattamente stato dei più esaltanti.
I membri della ciurma di Ivankov non erano altro che uomini vestiti da donna. Brutti uomini vestiti da donna, insomma, diversi da lui che almeno aveva i lineamenti femminili. Grandioso, fu il suo primo pensiero. Aveva fatto di tutto per evitare che la gente lo additasse come una femmina ed era finito in mezzo a gente che si comportava nell’esatto contrario.
Si tirò semplicemente su i pantaloni, scoccando un’occhiataccia ad Ivankov che lo aveva lasciato in quelle condizioni per tutto quel tempo, e poi diede un’occhiata intorno. Adesso che la novità su di lui era passata e la gente aveva smesso di tirargli le guance, erano tutti ad occuparsi della preparazione per la partenza. Dato che non aveva niente da fare esplorò la nave: era stato spesso su un’imbarcazione per rubare, ma non aveva mai navigato. Si chiese come sarebbe stato.
Nella sua esplorazione, incrociò un altro ragazzino come lui. Sedeva per terra, con la schiena appoggiata al parapetto, ed accarezzava un enorme lupo dal bellissimo manto argenteo. Poiché era l’unica figura su quella nave che vestiva come uno del suo stesso sesso, Cavendish si avvicinò con circospezione, chiedendosi se pure lui fosse stato raccattato per strada. Ma l’altro sembrò accorgersi di lui e voltò appena la testa per scrutarlo con i suoi occhi blu.
“Sei un maschio?” domandò infine. Non era stata una vera e propria domanda, ma un’affermazione quasi seccata. Eppure era già un miglioramento: normalmente le persone chiedevano se fosse una femmina, almeno lui era stato più diplomatico.
“Sì!” Per questo motivo la sua risposta fu forse un po’ troppo entusiasta. L’altro alzò gli occhi al cielo.
“Che palle! Sono circondato da uomini che si vestono da donne. O che ci somigliano.” Scosse la testa, tornando ad accarezzare il suo lupo. “Mi sa che sono l’unico uomo qui.” Cavendish era decisamente stato troppo ottimista.
“Io sono più che uomo!” esclamò, mettendosi davanti a lui. “Alzati e te lo faccio vedere.” Il ragazzo alzò leggermente il sopracciglio ed accennò ad un sorriso ironico, piegando l’angolo del labbro all’insù. Lentamente, si mise in piedi e si spazzolò delicatamente i jeans da una polvere invisibile.
“Sentiamo, che cosa farai?” domandò. “Mi getterai un po’ di smalto addosso?”
Cavendish progettava di dimostrargli che lo smalto se lo sarebbe creato col suo sangue, se proprio ci teneva, quando la nave diede uno scossone; allora capì che erano definitivamente partiti dall’isola. Ignorando totalmente l’altro si affacciò al parapetto ed osservò l’isola dove aveva sempre abitato che si allontanava lentamente. Era davvero fatta. Non si tornava indietro.
Era così preso da quel momento che non si accorse inizialmente del fatto che l’imbarcazione dondolava parecchio e ciò gli dava parecchio fastidio. Quando provò a fare un passo verso la direzione della prua per vedere dove stavano andando si sentì girare appena la testa e lo stomaco attorcigliarsi. Si riaffacciò al parapetto e si assicurò di vomitare anche l’anima.
Quando si voltò, trovò l’altro che lo stava fissando con le braccia incrociate e un sorriso soddisfatto in volto.
“Femminuccia.”
Ecco, quello era qualcosa che avrebbe preferito non ricordare. Sbatté via con forza il bagnoschiuma che aveva versato nella vasca e si prese tutto il tempo per entrare nell’acqua e rilassarsi con la bolle che si formavano e che lo avvolgevano. Era stato il suo primo viaggio su nave, era anche comprensibile che non fosse abituato. Ma Iulo era sempre stato un bastardo pieno di sé con il quale non potevi avere ferite aperte, o non avrebbe esitato a buttarci del sale dentro. E poi faceva del suo essere un “vero uomo” il suo cavallo di battaglia. Fortunatamente per Cavendish, Iva-san gli aveva insegnato che c’erano dei modi per sfruttare le sue debolezze.
Mentre si guardava in uno degli specchi della grande sala da ballo, si chiese per quale assurdo motivo uno che truccava se stesso in maniera da essere il più inquietante possibile era in realtà in grado di sistemare un altro in maniera perfetta. Quando Ivankov l’aveva preso per ‘incipriarlo e cotonarlo’, cosa che sembrava decisamente adorare, Cavendish doveva ammettere di aver tremato all’idea di finire come uno della sua ciurma.
Non che ora si sentisse totalmente a suo agio, ma rispetto alle conclusioni che aveva tratto inizialmente, era decisamente un passo in avanti. Non era stato un trucco invasivo, semplicemente della matita e del fard che accentuava la delicatezza dei suoi lineamenti e il blu dei suoi occhi. I capelli, che aveva sempre tenuto lunghi fino alle spalle perché non si era mai preoccupato di tagliarli, erano stati lavati e sistemati in maniera da essere ordinati in boccoli dorati.
Insomma, pensò seccato, continuava a somigliare ad una femmina più di prima. Almeno era una bella femmina, non come Ivankov. E se non altro portava i pantaloni. A dire la verità non lo convinceva del tutto nemmeno l’abbigliamento scelto, con quel cappello dalla strana forma, il mantello e quei pizzi fru fru che spuntavano da ogni parte.
Fissò il corridoio alla sua destra chiedendosi se non fosse meglio lasciare perdere ed andarsene, ma poi quell’insopportabile di Iulo gli avrebbe sicuramente dato del codardo e non se lo poteva permettere. Quindi alzò bene le spalle e fece qualche passo sicuro fino a raggiungere la zona centrale della sala da ballo. Ivankov, in versione femminile, stava amabilmente parlando con i padroni di casa, totalmente incurante di lui. Dall’altra parte, Iulo era seduto su uno dei divanetti e giocava a carte con le ragazzine presenti, le quali sembravano davvero apprezzare la sua compagnia.
Avrebbe voluto unirsi a loro, ma prima doveva pensare a qualche frase ad effetto da dire, altrimenti Iulo l’avrebbe preso in contropiede e c’era il rischio che le femmine lo considerassero uno di loro, cominciando a chiedere consigli su make-up e roba varia. Gli era appena venuta in mente una cosa davvero figa, quando si ritrovò addosso gli sguardi di una delle donne presenti. Non convinto, fece un passo indietro per evitarla, ma lei stava guardando proprio lui.
“Ma quanto sei carino!” Non era sicuro di aver sentito bene.
“Io sono un maschio,” affermò quindi, per mettere subito in chiaro la cosa.
“Ma certo che lo sei, tesoro,” fu la risposta della donna. “Ciò non toglie che tu sia molto carino. Ehi, guardate qui,” aggiunse, rivolgendosi ad altre due signore che parlavano poco distanti. “Il piccolo principe!”
In poco tempo si ritrovò circondato da un numero non ben definito di donne e tutte le trovavano davvero carino. Piovevano complimenti da tutte le parti e soprattutto erano da parte di femmine sul fatto che lui fosse un ragazzino! Cavendish non era decisamente abituato a tutto ciò! E soprattutto non avrebbe mai immaginato che per essere riconosciuto come tale avrebbe dovuto accentuare la sua femminilità! Ma se funzionava, tanto meglio. Un po’ di fard non lo avrebbe reso meno uomo.
Quando riuscì finalmente a districarsi dall’ingorgo di gonne che lo aveva circondato, sentì su di sé uno sguardo poco rassicurante. Allora alzò la testa e vide che Iulo era rimasto solo nel divano, dato che anche le altre ragazzine erano venute a vedere il “piccolo principe”.
L’espressione che aveva manifestava appieno tutta la sua seccatura e Cavendish non poté trattenere il sorriso di soddisfazione. Uno pari.
Anzi, era decisamente in vantaggio lui.
Seconda Parte
Era stato proprio quell’episodio a decretare la loro rivalità. Da quel momento avevano praticamente iniziato a litigare su qualunque cosa potesse costituire motivo di scontro, da qualunque cosa. Poteva essersi l’addormentarsi il più tardi possibile, con l’ovvia conseguenza che nessuno dei due dormiva praticamente mai (anche perché avrebbero finito per ritrovarsi del dentifricio un po’ ovunque). Poteva essere l’arrivare per primo a pranzo, o, meglio, far arrivare l’altro in ritardo. Insomma, riuscivano a tirare fuori una sfida da qualunque cosa.
Era quindi inevitabile che prima o poi si sarebbero scontrati anche sulla specialità di Iulo: la spada.
Quella mattina, Cavendish aveva perso più tempo del solito in bagno, in quanto si era accorto di avere delle occhiaie spaventose (colpa delle sfide serali) e non aveva più intenzione di girare in quelle condizioni. Così, quando scese a fare colazione dopo essersi truccato di tutto punto, ovviamente sapeva di doversi sorbire le frecciatine di Iulo.
“Le donne ci mettono di meno,” fu infatti la frase con cui venne accolto.
“Se sono assieme a te di sicuro,” ribatté, mentre si sedeva a tavola e avvicinava a sé il piatto che Inazuma gli stava porgendo. “Dov’è Iva-san?” domandò. Era raro non vederlo in giro da quando lo aveva praticamente adottato. Non si dovette nemmeno girare per vedere Iulo che alzava gli occhi.
“Vivi qui da parecchio e non hai ancora capito niente…” Ma evidentemente non avrebbe capito nulla nemmeno quella mattinata, perché Inazuma non sembrava aver intenzione di spiegare le cose per bene.
“Aveva qualcosa da fare nel Mare Orientale,” fu infatti l’unica cosa che gli venne detta.
“Bon, io vado ad allenarmi,” commentò Iulo, a cui evidentemente piaceva informare la gente delle sue decisioni, anche quando a suddetta gente non gliene poteva importare di meno. Allungò la mano verso la sua lupa, che era seduta ai piedi della sedia, e questa alzò la coda. Lui la afferrò ed un istante dopo stringeva in mano una lunga spada argentea.
Cavendish fissò la scena con la coda nell’occhio, fingendo indifferenza. Aveva scoperto quasi subito che l’animale era in realtà un oggetto con un Frutto del Diavolo Zoan e ne era in qualche modo affascinato. Il fatto che fosse di proprietà di Iulo faceva sì che ogni interesse nei confronti di quell’arma svanisse immediatamente, anche solo per non dargli soddisfazione.
Quel giorno però era diverso. Non c’era Iva-san con cui stare, o da cui imparare le cose (aka i trucchi per truccarsi). In pratica non aveva nulla di interessante da fare, così, finita colazione, seguì Inazuma alla zona aperta che veniva utilizzata come allenamento. Inizialmente si sistemò un po’ di lato, appoggiato contro un albero, e rilasciando uno sbadiglio, coperto in ritardo con il dorso della mano. Non aveva nessun interesse a rimanere a guardare Iulo, solo che non aveva altro da fare. Chissà, magari era una chiavica ed avrebbe potuto prenderlo in giro!
Purtroppo, però, non lo era. Non lo era affatto. E Cavendish, fissandolo mentre muoveva la spada, con la lama che scintillava al sole, pensò che c’era qualcosa di aggraziato in quel tipo di combattimento. Certo, Iulo era comunque abbastanza rozzo, ma il concetto in sé non era male. Fino a quel momento, si era occupato di cose più spirituali. Lui sapeva combattere, ma non aveva mai imparato ad usare un’arma.
“Pensi di poter insegnare anche a me?” domandò allora ad Inazuma, i cui poteri del Frutto avevano parecchie cose in comune con l’uso di una spada. Iulo, che si era fermato un attimo per bere dalla borraccia, gli scoccò un sorrisetto ironico, prima di gettarsi l’acqua rimanente in testa.
“Non fa per te,” commentò, voltandosi. “Pensa se ti venissero i calli alle mani!”
Cavendish lasciò che la schiuma scendesse lentamente dal palmo della mano, per osservarselo con cura. Usare una spada era davvero rischioso per la pelle, ma era diventato parecchio bravo a tenere sott’occhio la situazione. Impugnare il manico in un certo modo, una particolare crema, l’uso dei guanti, erano tutti trucchi che aveva imparato per evitare effetti collaterali. E così non aveva avuto problemi a diventare davvero bravo come spadaccino.
Be’, insomma, proprio nessuno problema no.
“Tieni,” disse Inazuma, porgendogli una delle spade che si usavano per gli allenamenti. Si capiva perché a differenza di quella di Iulo aveva la lama rovinata, rigata e anche un po’ arrugginita. Decisamente non adatta ad uno come lui, tanto che gli faceva schifo toccarla. Probabilmente i suoi pensieri erano intuibili dalla sua espressione, perché Inazuma spinse leggermente la spada in avanti per invogliarlo a prenderla.
Allora Cavendish allungò la mano ed afferrò il manico, ma nell’esatto momento in cui l’altro mollò la presa, inciampò in avanti per il peso dell’arma. Si rimise in piedi ed afferrò l’impugnatura con entrambe le mani, cercando di alzarla fino all’altezza del suo petto, cosa che sembrava molto più facile quando era Iulo a farlo. Si sentiva sbilanciato, con tutti i muscoli delle braccia in tensione. Non appena accennò un passo, incespicò nuovamente.
Ringraziò mentalmente che il pallone gonfiato non fosse nei paraggi, o l’avrebbe sfottuto a vita. Si rimise in piedi e provò nuovamente. Forse era come andare in bicicletta, non bisognava restare fermi troppo a lungo. Si guardò attorno per cercare un possibile bersaglio e lo individuò in un manichino poco distante. Allora concentrò tutte le sue energie per alzare la spada oltre la sua testa, pronto a lanciarsi verso il nemico… E il peso dell’arma lo trascinò all’indietro, facendolo cadere con il sedere a terra.
“Forse per te ci vuole un altro tipo…” fu il commento di Inazuma, che era rimasto ad osservare tutta la scena senza dire una parola. Andò all’armadio e vi rovistò a lungo, finché non estrasse una spada. Anche questa era rovinata, ma la forma era completamente diversa dalla precedente, l’elsa era più sottile e così anche il manico. Era più lunga e flessibile.
Quando Cavendish la prese in mano, non si sentì affatto sbilanciato, né doveva sforzare i muscoli per muoverla. Era come un’estensione naturale della sua mano. Certo, sembrava molto meno potente rispetto a quella che aveva provato prima, ma proprio per questo gli assomigliava: ingannava le apparenze sotto un aspetto femminile.
“È un fioretto,” gli disse allora Inazuma.
Si passò il panno sulle braccia, con delicatezza. Premeva leggermente, sentendo i muscoli al di sotto, che però non erano cresciuti abbastanza da rovinare il suo corpo longilineo. Il fioretto poteva essere più leggero da portare in mano, ma per diventare potente serviva parecchio allenamento e parecchia forza. Aveva sempre evitato di esagerare, per non sformare il suo corpo, puntando su velocità e destrezza, ma le sue braccia non erano male. Riuscire ad essere forti ed aggraziati nello stesso tempo non era decisamente da tutti.
Non certo da Iulo.
Il fatto è che si era reso conto di avere un talento naturale per il fioretto. Adorava la sensazione del vento che gli scuoteva i capelli e della lama che sibilava mentre lui tirava fendenti. Adorava sentire la resistenza degli oggetti mentre li colpiva e li tagliava, sapendo che era una sua scelta risparmiarli. E, si sa, i geni sono migliori degli altri e riescono meglio anche di chi si allena duramente, ecco perché li chiamano così.
Ed ecco perché Cavendish scalpitava da sempre per sfidare Iulo, e solo Inazuma, che pian piano gli insegnava i trucchi, lo aveva trattenuto tanto da rimandare lo scontro per un mese. Ma persino lui sapeva che non sarebbe durato a lungo, perché dopotutto conviveva con i due ragazzini da troppo tempo, quindi li lasciò fare, limitandosi ad osservare a distanza per assicurarsi che non si ammazzassero a vicenda.
“Non vale nemmeno la pena di sprecare Capitolina con te,” fu il commento di Iulo, che evidentemente trovava la cosa molto divertente. Lasciò che la spada si trasformasse in lupa e ne prese un’altra, una di quelle arrugginite per gli allenamenti. Cavendish la guardò male, con ribrezzo. Anche la sua inizialmente non era ridotta tanto bene, ma da quando aveva iniziato ad imparare si era anche preoccupato della manutenzione, aveva risistemato la lama, preparato un’elsa più morbida da stringere. Truccava il fioretto come truccava se stesso. Per questo aveva un’arma decisamente migliore, al momento.
“Un giorno la tua presunzione ti costerà,” gli disse. Iulo piegò la testa di lato.
“Oh, stai parlando con lo specchio?” E poi attaccò, senza preavviso. Cavendish credeva che la sua spada, più pesante, lo rallentasse; invece era parecchio veloce. E forte, tanto che avvertì il braccio tremare quando bloccò il primo fendente. Gli attacchi si susseguivano a distanza troppo ravvicinata di tempo perché potesse anche solo tentare di ribattere, si limitava ad indietreggiare cercando di trovare dello spazio.
Poi, improvvisamente, Iulo si fermò. Cavendish avrebbe potuto accorgersi che non sembrava né stanco né preoccupato, invece era così preso dal fatto che fosse finalmente venuto il suo momento che si gettò verso di lui senza fiutare la trappola. In un attimo, sentì la spada che gli volava via dalle mani, infilzandosi nel terreno poco distante, e poi la spinta che Iulo gli diede lo fece cadere all’indietro, nella pozza alle sue spalle. Si rialzò con il fango che gli colava dai lunghi capelli biondi, ora diventati praticamente marroni e sentendo che probabilmente era zuppo fin nelle mutande.
“Dio, se ne è valsa la pena perdere cinque minuti così!” Iulo aveva infilzato la sua spada al terreno e rideva a crepapelle tenendosi la pancia con le mani. Inutile dire che Cavendish era umiliato, non tanto per la sconfitta ma per lo schifo che aveva addosso, quindi non ebbe migliore idea che allungarsi in avanti ed afferrare l’altro per una gamba, trascinandolo nel fango con lui.
Inazuma sospirò, mentre li vedeva accapigliarsi e cercare di tirarsi i capelli, pensando che si comportassero esattamente come dei bambini, nonostante si ritenessero estremamente maturi. Persino la lupa di Iulo sembrava pensarla come lui, perché si limitò a rimanere seduta ad osservare la scena, sbadigliando. Quando decise che si erano sfogati abbastanza, Inazuma recuperò le spade e li trascinò fino a casa. Convincerli non fu difficile, erano coperti di fango e desideravano solo farsi una doccia.
Evidentemente non era la loro giornata fortunata, perché li stava aspettando una sorpresa.
Ivankov era tornato dalla sua missione nel Mare Orientale e aveva portato altri due ragazzini con sé. Inazuma avrebbe potuto pensare che quel posto stava diventando sempre più simile ad un asilo infantile, se non avesse saputo il vero motivo per cui lo facevano, cioè allenare futuri rivoluzionari. Ma in quel momento non l’avrebbe pensato comunque, perché era troppo impegnato a stupirsi della novità: uno dei due era una ragazza.
Anche Cavendish e Iulo se n’erano accorti immediatamente: era una cosa troppo incredibile, soprattutto per loro abituati ad essere circondati da travestiti. Peccato che fosse il momento peggiore per incontrarne una. Non cercarono nemmeno di rendersi presentabili, sapevano entrambi che sarebbe stato impossibile con tutto il fango che avevano addosso.
“Sei una ragazza vera?” domandarono comunque, contemporaneamente, prima di scoccarsi un’occhiataccia a vicenda.
Lei li guardò sbattendo le palpebre, e poi rifletté per un attimo con la mano appoggiata alla guancia, prima di voltarsi verso Ivankov e chiedere: “Ma dovrei offendermi?” Lui si limitò ad infilarsi le dita sul fianco e a farsi gonfiare i seni: come risposta era decisamente efficace. Allora lei rise e si voltò verso i due ragazzi. “Anna Bessonova.” Alzò una gamba sopra di sé, in una perfetta spaccata verticale. Anche quella, come risposta, era parecchio efficace. “Se dovremo stare in camera assieme, però, spero che vi facciate una doccia prima.”
“È lui che non guarda dove cammina,” fece Iulo, alzando le spalle. “Normalmente sono più presentabile di così.”
“Ah, questo lo dici tu!” ribatté Cavendish. “E comunque ha iniziato lui tutta questa storia,” aggiunse, ora ben consapevole che aveva solo giocato con lo scopo preciso di farlo finire nel fango. Un secondo dopo, erano di nuovo a cercare di tirarsi i capelli a vicenda, con Anna che trovava il tutto estremamente divertente.
Inazuma allargò le braccia all’occhiata di Ivankov. Insomma, lo sapeva che facevano così, non era mica colpa sua. Il Regino stava quasi pensando di minacciarli con la trasformazione in donne, che sapeva essere sempre efficace, quando si fece avanti l’altro ragazzo che aveva portato con sé. Se n’era quasi dimenticato, perché era rimasto in silenzio per tutto quel tempo e in generale anche durante il viaggio aveva parlato poco.
Nonostante avesse ancora metà viso e corpo completamente ricoperto di bende, riuscì ad afferrare sia Iulo sia Cavendish per i rispettivi baveri, ad alzarli come se fossero di gommapiuma e a scagliarli agli angoli opposti della stanza. I due erano talmente scioccati dalla cosa che non ebbero nemmeno la voglia di replicare. Anna continuava a trovare la cosa molto divertente ed applaudì alla scena. Anche Ivankov rimase impressionato alla sua forza e pensò che Dragon non si fosse sbagliato sul suo conto.
“Ben fatto, ragazzo!”
Lui si voltò a guardarlo, sorridendo.
“Ho due fratelli che si comportano nella stessa maniera, so come si fa.”
Terza Parte
Cavendish si stava osservando allo specchio. Poi, lentamente, si passò una mano sulla parte sinistra del viso, accarezzandoselo. Il suo volto, ovviamente, era perfetto. Non sapeva cosa avrebbe potuto fare trovandosi nella stessa condizione di Sabo, con la cicatrice da bruciatura che glielo sfigurava completamente. Senza contare quella al braccio, con il mignolo e l’anulare della mano mancanti. Prese il phon e la piastra per sistemarsi i capelli.
Forse era proprio per la sua menomazione che sia lui sia Iulo lo apprezzavano senza considerarlo un rivale.
“Ecco fatto, cosa te ne pare?” domandò soddisfatto, ammirando il suo lavoro. La cicatrice di Sabo era del tutto scomparsa, nascosta da centimetri di fondotinta e mascherata da tocchi di fard.
“Caspita, sei molto più bravo di me,” commentò Anna, che aveva osservato con curiosità tutta l’operazione. “Devi insegnarmi!”
“Certo!” rispose Cavendish gonfiando il petto. Iulo, che era sdraiato sul letto a leggere un libro, sbuffò. Sabo si osservo a lungo allo specchio, accarezzandosi leggermente la guancia non più ferita, prima di sfregarci sopra il dorso della mano, rovinando completamente l’opera d’arte.
“Scusa, ma tutta questa roba mi pizzica,” si giustificò sorridendo nei confronti dell’amico, che ovviamente lo stava guardando con un’espressione mista di orrore e raccapriccio. “Poi non fa niente. Una cicatrice fa molto pirata.” A quella frase, tutti lo guardarono curiosamente.
“Ti piacciono i pirati?” domandò Anna. Sabo annuì con vigore.
“Sì, ho sempre voluto diventare un pirata.”
“Oh, quindi vuoi diventare un ladro e un pluriomicida.” Iulo aveva gettato il libro ai piedi del letto e si era alzato a sedere, ticchettando un piede per terra. “Io i pirati li odio.”
“Non tutti i pirati sono così, lo sai,” replicò Sabo, incrociando le braccia. “Alcuni di loro vogliono semplicemente essere liberi.” Iulo fece una risatina, che però uscì come una specie di sbuffo. “Parlo sul serio,” disse allora Sabo, con tono freddo.
“Forse sì.” L’altro incrociò le braccia. “Ma sai, la libertà di una persona non dovrebbe intaccare quella degli altri. E se tu sei un pirata, non hai regole. Le regole ci vogliono. Certo, quelle di adesso non sono un granché…” aggiunse sussurrando e scostando per un attimo lo sguardo. “Ma non averle del tutto non è la soluzione.” Appoggiò il mento sul palmo della mano. “Dimmi un po’, hai mai ucciso qualcuno?”
“Non ho mai ucciso nessuno!” rispose l’altro, con un tono di voce un po’ troppo alto.
“E rubato?” Alla seconda domanda, Sabo si umettò leggermente la labbra e poi annuì. Iulo alzò le spalle, con un sorriso. “Se questa la chiami libertà…”
“Be’, non si può negare che i pirati abbiano una cattiva fama,” disse Anna, che fino a quel momento aveva guardato lo scontro con occhi attenti e seri. “Però anche noi uccideremo qualcuno e ruberemo qualcosa, di qui in avanti.”
“Davvero?” si lasciò sfuggire Cavendish, che non aveva una vera opinione sull’intera faccenda. “E perché mai?” Iulo sbuffò.
“Com’è possibile che tu sia qui da una vita e non ti sia ancora accorto di niente?” gli domandò. “Iva-san è un rivoluzionario agli ordini di Dragon. Noi siamo qui per allenarci per essere in grado di unirci a loro.” Data poi l’espressione praticamente pietrificata dell’altro, alzò gli occhi al cielo, prima di guardare Anna, che invece ridacchiava. “Vogliamo distruggere il Governo Mondiale.”
“Davvero?!” ripeté Cavendish, questa volta davvero stupefatto. Certo, lui di queste cose politiche non ne sapeva molto, però l’ordinamento del mondo era così da qualcosa come mille anni, il pensiero che ci fosse qualcuno che aveva voglia o possibilità di cambiarlo era semplicemente una cosa pazza da credere. “Perché?!”
“Perché fa schifo,” fu la risposta, secca, di Anna. Iulo, che era sceso dal letto e si era avvicinato ai tre, la guardò con un sorriso triste.
“Hanno ucciso i tuoi genitori, vero?” domandò.
“Hanno ucciso molta più gente che solo i miei genitori. Hanno distrutto la mia isola.” Lei aveva abbassato lo sguardo ed il tono era basso e freddo. “Non sarò un granché meglio di un pirata, ma voglio che di Mariejoa non rimanga più niente.” Sabo si osservò la mano menomata.
“Siamo in due,” disse. E poi, notando che Iulo lo stava osservando curiosamente, aggiunse: “Non sarò un pirata di quelli che dici tu. Voglio solo essere libero, quindi prima devo fare in modo che lo sia l’intero mondo, no?” L’altro ricambiò il sorriso.
“Credo ancora che i pirati siano il peggio del peggio, ma…” Si voltò verso Anna. “Siamo in tre.” Lei rialzò finalmente la testa, illuminandolo con un terzo sorriso.
Cavendish rimase a fissare il gruppetto, sentendosi quasi escluso. Lui non aveva alcun interesse in tutto quello che stavano dicendo, francamente non ci aveva mai pensato e soprattutto non aveva alcun motivo per unirsi ai rivoluzionari. Però era deprimente il pensiero che loro sapessero cosa fare della loro vita e lui no.
“E tu?” gli domandò allora Anna, come se si fosse accorta solo in quel momento che era presente una quarta persona nella stanza.
“Be’, io mi limiterò ad essere bellissimo,” commentò lui, scostando una ciocca bionda dietro la spalla. Iulo scoppiò a ridere.
“Non è un lavoro, cretino.”
“Lo dici solo perché tu non lo potresti fare,” ribatté Cavendish, che in realtà si sentiva davvero punto sul vivo della cosa.
“Oh, invece posso essere bellissimo e rivoluzionario allo stesso momento, sai.”
“Be’, allora io sarò pirata e bellissimo contemporaneamente!”
In realtà l’aveva detto tanto per, dato che Iulo li odiava. Di certo, non credeva che sarebbe successo davvero. Uscì dal bagno e recuperò i suoi vestiti: aveva un certo tipo di stile, che aveva scelto già da tempo, e che lo caratterizzava come pirata. Un grande pirata, aggiunse mentalmente, dando un’occhiata ad uno dei tanti avvisi di taglia appesi sopra il letto.
Ritraevano il suo profilo migliore.
Le scelte della vita erano strane: in quel momento l’aveva detto per far arrabbiare Iulo, e invece lo era diventato per Sabo. D’altronde, lui era sempre stato al suo fianco.
Le lame cozzavano fra di loro, sfrigolando e brillando al sole caldo che li illuminava. Nonostante fosse in grado di parare il fendente, la spada avversaria finiva per far apparire la bocca da lupo, mordendo e distruggendo la sua.
“Dannazione!” esclamò Cavendish, gettando via l’elsa ormai inutilizzabile. Iulo ridacchiò, mentre Capitolina si trasformava e si faceva accarezzare.
“Lascia perdere,” gli disse. “Non puoi battere né me né lei.” Inutile dire che non era una cosa che faceva bene alla sua autostima.
“Non riesco proprio a capire perché la sua spada sia più forte delle mie,” si sfogò con Sabo, il quale come arma usava un bastone e quindi spesso veniva usato come sparring partner. Avrebbe capito se fosse stata la prima, quella piena di ruggine, ma aveva fatto in modo di comprarsene di nuove, resistenti. Eppure tutte, immancabilmente, finivano spezzate.
“La risposta è qui,” gli disse allora Sabo, mostrandogli un libro. Cavendish lo guardò un po’ dubbioso: a differenza sua, non era un assiduo lettore. Si sedette comunque accanto a lui, pronto a seguire la sua spiegazione. “Al mondo esistono delle spade che sono meglio di quelle comuni, e si dividono in tre categorie. Capitolina fa parte del secondo gruppo, le spade di pregevole fattura. Solo le altre dello stesso gruppo, o di quello superiore, possono resistere alla forza della sua lama.”
“Allora mi basta averne una così!” esclamò Cavendish, quasi strappandogli il libro dalle mani per sfogliarlo. In pratica era una grande enciclopedia di tutte le spade famose, con tanto di storia da quando erano state forgiate ai possessori più famosi. Trovò quasi immediatamente Capitolina, che si diceva fosse stata donata dalla dea dell’amore e della guerra ad un grande conquistatore del passato, che soggiogò un intero impero da solo e poi rinunciò alla carica di imperatore.
Erano tutte di forma e fattura differente, passando dalle sciabole alle katane, ma lui ne cercava una particolare. Mentre continuava a girare le pagine, Sabo parlava, spiegandogli chi aveva la tale arma, animandosi soprattutto quando si trattava di un famoso pirata. Era chiaro che si era informato parecchio sull’argomento.
“E questa?” domandò Cavendish, che aveva finalmente trovato un fioretto. E non un fioretto qualsiasi, ma uno con fodero e manico intagliato, e con lama che brillava come l’argento. Sabo si sporse per guardarla meglio.
“Credo che questa sia custodita in un museo. Dovrei controllare meglio…”
Lesse la storia: era appartenuta ad un famoso paladino, che l’aveva utilizzata per sconfiggere i nemici del suo regno, uccidendo un intero esercito da solo. Aveva provato a distruggerla per impedire che i nemici la prendessero, finendo per spezzare a metà la catena montuosa contro cui l’aveva lanciata. Quella spada sicuramente non sarebbe stata distrutta da un morso di Capitolina!
Anche se ciò che convinse Cavendish che quella fosse la sua arma ideale fu che, secondo la leggenda, il paladino in questione era il più bel cavaliere del regno. Chi meglio di lui avrebbe potuto ereditarla?
La Durlindana. La teneva su un cuscino, a fianco del suo letto, in maniera da poterla avere a portata di mano se fosse successo qualcosa e allo stesso tempo evitare che si danneggiasse. E la puliva ogni mattina, affinché la lama fosse sempre splendente. Cavendish la prese e la passò sotto il raggio di luce che penetrava dalla finestra, ammirandone i riflessi. La prima volta che l’aveva vista, era prigioniera sotto una teca di vetro.
Non aveva chiesto né a Sabo né ad Anna di aiutarlo, ma loro erano venuti lo stesso, lui perché si considerava un suo amico e ci teneva a dargli una mano, lei semplicemente perché lo trovava divertente. Comunque sia, erano finiti chiusi stretti l’uno all’altro nel condotto d’aria del bagno del museo Bastile, nel regno Carolingio, aspettando che arrivasse l’orario di chiusura.
La Durlindana sarebbe stata messa all’asta l’indomani. Cavendish aveva visto gli acquirenti: nessuno di loro aveva i requisiti per essere il suo possessore. Solo lui li aveva. Per cui dovevano rubare la spada prima che venisse portata fuori. Sabo aveva esperienza nei furti ed Anna lo considerava un buon allenamento per le sue missioni future come rivoluzionaria, per cui si era affidato a loro. Anche se, mentre sentiva i suoi capelli riempirsi di polvere e ragnatele, pensò che, forse, non fosse stata una buona idea.
Quando le ultime pulizie furono finite e la luce spenta, poterono finalmente scendere da quello spazio stretto e tornare a respirare con tranquillità. La prima cosa che fece Cavendish fu correre allo specchio a verificare la situazione, anche se la luce delle torce non gli permetteva di esaminare tutta l’entità del danno. Dato che gli altri due erano abituati a certe scene, lo lasciarono fare.
“Il primo giro di controllo dovrebbe raggiungere la sala degli specchi fra venti minuti,” disse Sabo guardando l’orologio. “Sbrighiamoci.”
Spensero le torce e uscirono dal bagno, passando poi rasente il muro e abbassandosi ad ogni finestra, che lasciava penetrare un sottile filo di luce lunare, sufficiente però a permettere alle lumacamere di individuarli. Fortunatamente avevano passato tutto il giorno precedente a studiarne i movimenti per poterli evitare. Solo nella sala degli specchi furono costretti a metterla fuori uso, perché puntava esattamente verso la zona della spada.
“Ora i minuti sono diventati cinque,” disse Anna, sapendo che i guardiani ai monitor avrebbero dato l’allarme. Cavendish fece per saltare i cordoni rossi di protezione che separavano il pubblico dalla colonna che esponeva la Durlindana, ma Sabo lo fermò stringendogli un braccio.
“Aspetta.” Fece scivolare la torcia sul pavimento vicino alla colonna, ma questa non fece in tempo a raggiungerlo, perché il quadrato attorno alla spada si piegò su se stesso, facendo cadere la lampada in una voragine, prima di richiudersi. Sabo si scambiò un’occhiata sorridendo con Cavendish, e poi indicò la spada. “Ci penso io.”
Prese il suo bastone, il quale conteneva due lame retrattili alle estremità. Lo allungò sopra il quadrato che si apriva, raggiungendo la vetrina che racchiudeva la spada al suo interno e, lentamente, infilò al di sotto una delle due lame. Si avvertì chiaramente il suono del vetro che si alzava leggermente, quindi Sabo drizzò lentamente il bastone, cercando di non far precipitare la vetrina dall’altra parte. Quando ci fu abbastanza spazio per recuperare la spada, si rivolse ad Anna: “A te.”
Lei sorrise, quindi estrasse il suo nastro da ritmica e, con attenzione, lo lanciò lasciando che si avvolgesse attorno al fodero della Durlindana, quindi con un movimento secco, la pescò staccandola dalla sua base. Cavendish la afferrò al volo e nemmeno si accorse del nastro che veniva tirato via. Anche se non aveva fatto nulla per meritarsela, aveva sentito chiaramente un brivido mentre stringeva la spada. A malapena avvertì Sabo, che gli aveva appoggiato una mano sulla spalla. Invece, avvertì distintamente il suono dell’allarme che iniziava a squillare.
“Probabilmente c’era un sensore anche sotto la spada,” ipotizzò Sabo, che aveva iniziato a strattonarlo per farlo riprendere.
“Sbrighiamoci.” Anna corse alla finestra e la aprì, quindi saltò sul cornicione per lanciare una corda verso uno degli alberi vicini. Essendo al secondo piano sarebbe stata la maniera più veloce e sicura per evitare le guardie.
Ma prima che gli altri la potessero raggiungere, delle inferriate caddero dal soffitto, bloccando ogni singola finestra. Lei rimase a guardarli dall’altra parte, insicura sul da farsi.
“Tanto ormai ci hanno scoperto, usciamo dall’entrata principale,” le disse Sabo, perciò Anna annuì e scomparve al di sotto del piano. Lui invece si diresse dalla parte opposta rispetto a quella da cui venivano le guardie, anche se era la più distante dalle scale. Avevano appena imboccato il corridoio oltre la lunga sala degli specchi, quando avvertirono un rumore dietro di loro. Voltandosi, notarono che dal soffitto era caduto uno spesso muro d’acciaio.
“Ce ne sono degli altri!” gridò Cavendish, alzando lo sguardo. Sabo lo afferrò per una mano e riprese a correre.
“Dobbiamo raggiungere la fine del corridoio prima che ci intrappolino!” esclamò. Già sapeva che non avrebbero fatto in tempo, perché le mura cadevano a terra più in fretta di quanto riuscivano a correre. Allora, usando il fatto che la presa dell’altro non fosse stretta come la sua, si bloccò e poi lo tirò con forza in avanti, gettandolo in avanti di un centinaio di metri. “Vai avanti e porta fuori la spada, io me la caverò.”
“No!” Cavendish si rialzò immediatamente dopo la caduta, senza nemmeno preoccuparsi di risistemarsi i capelli, ma era troppo tardi, dato che gli bastò appena per vedere il muro che gli toglieva la visuale sull’altro. “Sabo!” Cercò di raggiungerlo, ma altre pareti gli precipitarono davanti, bloccandolo. Sentì il rumore degli ultimi che lo intrappolavano definitivamente, ma non se ne preoccupò affatto. Batté la mano contro la parete, senza alcun risultato.
Abbassò lo sguardo sulla Durlindana che stringeva quasi senza rendersene conto. Be’, era il caso di verificare se oltre ad una spada bella fosse anche una spada forte. La estrasse dal fodero e la puntò contro il muro, prima di tirare un fendente. Il fioretto si piegò come se fosse elastico, ma non fece alcun danno. Poiché la lama non si era scheggiata in alcun modo, Cavendish riprovò e riprovò finché non sentì il braccio intorpidirsi.
A quel punto si arrese e la gettò a terra, sedendosi davanti alla parete. Se la Durlindana era forte come si diceva, voleva dire che era lui lo spadaccino mediocre. Se invece era una spada tutta apparenza e niente sostanza… Non era tanto diversa da lui, che evidentemente era in grado solo di truccarsi, non altro.
Si riusciva a respirare, così chiusi in due muri d’acciaio? Perché non c’erano finestre, solo quattro pareti che lo circondavano da tutti i lati. Poi, improvvisamente, avvertì un rumore alle sue spalle e si voltò, scattando in piedi. Era rimasto in silenzio e al buio così a lungo che si era spaventato.
Qualcosa stava grattando il pavimento, cercando di infilarsi sotto la parete. Quindi, si sentì un rumore di metallo che cozzava e l’acciaio si avvolse su se stesso, come quando si apre una lattina di conservati, provocando una breccia al centro. Solo in quel momento notò che ciò che stava spostando il muro era Capitolina, che in forma di spada mordeva l’acciaio come fosse un pezzo di carne cruda.
Il filo di luce che penetrava dal fondo illuminò la figura di Iulo che entrava; probabilmente aveva divelto tutte le pareti fino a quel punto. Lui lo guardò incrociando le braccia, mentre la sua lupa si accovacciava ai suoi piedi.
“Vedi, è per questo che odio i pirati,” gli disse. “Fanno sempre di testa loro e poi combinano questi casini.” Cavendish non era in vena di dargli ascolto, in quel preciso momento.
“Sabo-” iniziò, ma poi si bloccò perché avvertì un altro suono dietro di loro. Si voltò, e vide la parete al centro che veniva bombata da colpi ripetuti che venivano da dietro, fino a spaccarsi completamente. Poi Sabo spinse le due fratture verso direzioni opposte per fare una breccia abbastanza larga da passarci in mezzo. Si bloccò, vedendo i due.
“Oh.” E poi sorrise, fissando Iulo. “Credevo non volessi aiutare dei pirati.”
“Non posso permettere che ti arrestino adesso, non prima della rivoluzione,” rispose lui. “Comunque vedo che il mio intervento è stato inutile,” aggiunse, accennando all’acciaio spezzato.
“Come hai fatto?!” esclamò allora Cavendish, recuperata la voce.
“Haki,” disse Sabo semplicemente, alzando le spalle. “Per questo ti avevo detto di andare avanti, immaginavo di riuscire a romperle.”
“In pratica, sei tu la palla al piede,” commentò Iulo ridacchiando. “Be’, alla fine ti preferirei anche io come estetista piuttosto che come pirata.” E poi rimase quasi incredulo, quando non ricevette la rispostaccia che si aspettava. Cavendish aveva semplicemente abbassato lo sguardo e poi si era piegato a recuperare la spada per metterla ne fodero.
“Non dargli retta,” disse allora Sabo, anche lui poco convinto dalla reazione. “Io personalmente ti prenderei in ciurma anche adesso.”
“Non penso che serva un estetista su una nave pirata,” rise Iulo, scuotendo la testa.
“No, ma uno spadaccino in gamba con una spada famosa può essere utile. E poi ho bisogno di un vicecapitano.”
Cavendish lo stava fissando incredulo. Nonostante non avesse combinato nulla per tutto quel tempo e fra tutti fosse stato decisamente il più inutile, Sabo era disposto ancora a dargli fiducia. Non se lo sarebbe definitivamente scordato. Però non gli andava nemmeno di ammetterlo, soprattutto davanti ad Iulo che continuava a ridacchiare. Allora rialzò le spalle con fare altezzoso, gettando una ciocca oltre la spalla.
“Grazie, ma sono troppo bello per essere solo un vice,” rispose. “Però ho bisogno di un navigatore. Saresti il benvenuto.” A quelle parole, Sabo fece un sorriso triste.
“Anche mio fratello mi voleva come navigatore…” mormorò. “Ma io volevo fare il capitano.”
“Bene, quindi finirete per farvi concorrenza e litigare e bla bla, pirati, andiamo,” commentò Iulo agitando la mano, mentre si infilava nel buco della parete che lui stesso aveva aperto.
“Ammetti che sei geloso perché nessuno ti ha chiesto di entrare in ciurma,” ridacchiò Sabo, mentre lo seguiva.
“E ci sarà un motivo!” aggiunse Cavendish allegro.
“L’unico motivo che avrei per entrare nelle vostre ciurme sarebbe per arrestarvi,” rispose Iulo, facendogli una smorfia. “Anzi, vedete di farvi dare una taglia alta, così posso anche guadagnarci.”
Stava scherzando. Non sapeva che sarebbe diventato poi qualcosa di molto serio. Cavendish si infilò la Durlindana alla cintura e poi si ammirò nello specchio. Perfetto. Era passato tantissimo tempo da quell’avventura, ora avrebbe potuto fare a pezzi quelle maledette pareti come il burro, non aveva più bisogno di Iulo che venivano a salvarlo. Anzi, sarebbe stato in grado di difendersi da lui, se mai avesse provato ad arrestarlo.
Pensava anche che sarebbe stato in grado di proteggere lui Sabo, se fosse successo qualcosa. Da quel punto di vista sbagliava.
Si allungò verso la scrivania, estrasse il cassetto e rovesciò a terra il contenuto. Tra il marasma di trucchi e pettini, spuntò una vecchia fotografia. Avevano cercato di rimanere in posa quando Iva-san li aveva fotografati, ma non c’erano riusciti, quindi erano venuti molto naturali: lui e Iulo che si tiravano i capelli, Sabo che tentava di separarli e Anna che ridacchiava.
Anche se il loro lavoro come rivoluzionari li aveva portati molto distanti, era sempre stato sicuro che nulla si sarebbe rotto fra di loro. Anche se avrebbe fatto a meno di Iulo, s’intende.
Aveva sbagliato anche quella previsione.
Quarta Parte
Il tacchi dei suoi stivali facevano rumore mentre correva nei corridoi dell’ospedale, ma non gli importava. Le infermiere non l’avrebbero fermato, lo sapeva; era troppo bello per subire una ramanzina. Controllò distrattamente i numeri sulle porte, fino a raggiungere quello che gli avevano detto, che si trovava proprio in fondo, svoltato l’angolo. Non doveva essere un caso, probabilmente stavano cercando di tenerlo nascosto.
La porta era chiusa, quindi bussò. Era lontano quando Anna l’aveva chiamato, perciò non poteva essere sicuro che fossero ancora lì. Lo scoprì quando sentì la voce di Iulo rispondergli: “Alla buon’ora!” Solo allora entrò, scoccandogli un’occhiataccia.
“Non è colpa mia se tutte le infermiere mi hanno trattenuto,” gli rispose, agitando una mano con nonchalance. Iulo ridacchiò.
“Come se potessero accontentarsi di te dopo che hanno avuto me.”
“Be’, dato che sei già qui, suppongo che tu sia un po’ troppo veloce per loro.”
“Se avete intenzione di vedere chi ce l’ha più lungo, voglio assistere,” intervenne Anna, prima che Iulo potesse ribattere. “Ma non qui.” I due ragazzi si scambiarono un’occhiataccia, ma tacquero.
Cavendish chiuse la porta dietro di sé e si avvicinò a loro, che erano seduti al fianco del letto. Lui invece rimase in piedi ad osservare. Sabo era sempre stato di carnagione chiara, ma così era diventato quasi trasparente. Solo l’orribile bruciatura che lo sfigurava spiccava. Non era nemmeno chiaro se stesse respirando o no, il petto si alzava appena, e tutti quei tubicini collegati alla bocca e al naso contribuivano a peggiorare il suo aspetto. Il suono della macchina a cui erano collegati era fastidioso, ma ricordava a Cavendish che il cuore stava ancora battendo.
“Cos’è successo?” domandò. Al lumacofono non ne avevano parlato.
“Kizaru,” disse solo Anna. Poi allungò la mano e strinse quella immobile di Sabo. “Non era previsto che ci fosse, abbiamo abbassato la guardia…” mormorò lentamente, come se contemporaneamente stesse ricordando l’avvenimento.
“Ci ha salvato,” terminò allora Iulo, che aveva lo sguardo che vagava da tutt’altra parte. Solo in quel momento Cavendish notò che entrambi erano feriti: lei aveva la benda che le spuntava dalla scollatura della camicetta, lui un intero braccio fasciato, e un cerotto ad un angolo del viso.
“Si riprenderà?” domandò ancora. Anna strinse le labbra.
“Può darsi, non lo sappiamo.”
“Non che abbia importanza,” aggiunse Iulo, alzando le spalle. Cavendish lo fulminò con lo sguardo, ma prima che potesse parlare lui alzò una mano per fermarlo e proseguì: “Uno dei raggi laser di Kizaru gli ha danneggiato la colonna vertebrale. Secondo i medici non potrà più camminare.” I due rimasero a fissarsi a lungo, mentre la consapevolezza della cosa risuonava all’interno della stanza. Poi Cavendish si voltò di nuovo verso il letto.
Era tipico di Sabo rimanere indietro a salvare gli amici. Chissà da chi aveva imparato a comportarsi così! A mettere gli altri prima di se stesso. Lui lo riteneva stupido, eppure era alla fine uno dei motivi per cui tutti lo apprezzavano. Sapeva benissimo che stava facendo il rivoluzionario solo per il momento, che il suo vero sogno era diventare un pirata. E adesso non avrebbe più potuto farlo.
Non ascoltò nemmeno troppo Anna, che spiegava che con le tecniche moderne forse c’erano ancora delle speranze, dopotutto si parlava di persone che avevano creato dei cyborg. Pensò solo che Sabo gli era stato a fianco a lungo, anche quando faceva i capricci, e forse era il momento in cui facesse qualcosa per lui. Dopotutto, non aveva nemmeno un’idea di cosa fare della sua vita, quindi… Perché no?
“Credo che diventerò un pirata,” disse ad alta voce, quasi senza accorgersene, dando una conclusione ai suoi pensieri. Sapeva di avere lo sguardo degli altri su di sé, ma non ci fece caso finché non sentì Iulo afferrarlo per il bavero.
“Che cazzate stai dicendo?” Gli sputò quasi in faccia. “Lo fai per Sabo? Pensi che abbia un senso, una cosa del genere?” Cavendish si scostò da lui con la mano.
“Mi stai rovinando il vestito,” commentò, mentre si rimetteva a posto il colletto della camicia.
“Rispondi.” La voce di Iulo era bassa e roca, nulla di più distante dal tono canzonatorio che usava di solito.
“E anche se lo facessi per lui?” fu allora la risposta, con tono seccato. Il continuo della frase era “tanto non ho nient’altro da fare”, ma non lo disse. Aveva sempre avvertito una sorta d’inferiorità, nel non avere un obiettivo a parte il riuscire a truccarsi ed essere sempre più bello.
“È stupido.” Iulo alzò gli occhi al cielo. “Be’, non che potessi aspettarmi molto da te, ma… È molto stupido.” Allungò una mano ad indicare Sabo. “Credi davvero che serva a qualcosa? Cosa farai, ti presenterai qui con la tua bella taglia sulla testa nella speranza che si svegli? Che grande idea!”
Cavendish non aveva pensato proprio a quello. Aveva più pensato che difficilmente qualcuno che non poteva più camminare sarebbe potuto diventare un pirata, ma se fosse stato il capitano, avrebbe potuto prendere in ciurma chiunque. E voleva Sabo come suo compagno. E non poteva credere che Iulo, dopo essere stato salvato proprio da lui, potesse rimanere seduto a non fare nulla, come se non gli importasse.
“Non sono fatti tuoi,” rispose, fingendosi impegnato a sistemare il lembo del suo mantello. “Tu odi i pirati, io sinceramente non ho problemi.”
“Parli come se non fosse una cosa grave.”
“Perché non è una cosa grave!” Sabo gli aveva parlato a lungo di cosa significasse per lui essere un pirata, che aveva finito per assimilarlo. Non era altro che girare per il mondo in completa libertà. Non c’era nulla di male in tutto ciò. E considerando che anche i rivoluzionari ce l’avevano col Governo Mondiale, dov’era il problema nell’ignorare le loro leggi?
Iulo estrasse Capitolina e prima che Cavendish potesse reagire gli aveva già tagliato la cinta che gli teneva la Durlindana al fianco, facendola cadere a terra, quindi gli puntò la lama alla gola. Anna, che fino a quel momento li aveva lasciati sfogare, balzò in piedi e gli strinse il braccio, ma lui se la scrollò di dosso in malo modo.
“Ti avverto, Cav,” disse, gelido. “Se diventi un pirata, non m’importerà. Mi prenderò la tua taglia. Continua ad allenarti con quella tua spada, perché il nostro prossimo incontro potrebbe essere l’ultimo.” Poi rinfoderò la spada ed uscì, sbattendo la porta dietro di sé talmente forte che si avvertì subito la lamentela di una delle infermiere.
“Ma che diavolo gli prende…” commentò Cavendish sottovoce. Anna scosse la testa, poi fece un piccolo sorriso.
“Mai sentito parlare di UST, vero?”
Non aveva mai capito cosa intendesse dire, ma sinceramente non gli importava. Era troppo arrabbiato. E aveva continuato ad esserlo a lungo, anche se la cosa era andata a suo favore perché era diventato davvero bravo, con la spada. Però non si era reso veramente conto di quanto quella vicenda avesse significato, almeno per Iulo.
Voltò la fotografia: dietro c’era scarabocchiato un numero di lumacofono, ma non l’aveva mai chiamato. Non avrebbe saputo che cosa dirgli, anche perché erano entrambi troppo orgogliosi per chiedere scusa per primi. E aveva la netta impressione che Iulo pensasse che l’essere diventato pirata, per lui, fosse stata anche una forma di ripicca.
Però credeva anche che le cose si sarebbero sistemate da sole, se Sabo si fosse ripreso. Era sempre stato un collante, fra di loro, perché era quello che guardava oltre le apparenze.
Era arrivato per ultimo anche la seconda volta, ma era normale. Adesso che era diventato un pirata era sempre in giro per la Rotta Maggiore, non gli era stato facile nemmeno giustificare la deviazione con la sua ciurma. Ma erano passati due anni, voleva assolutamente vederlo! Anche se, dopo ciò che era successo a Marineford, il mondo era in rivoluzione e quindi non era esattamente il momento migliore per risvegliarsi.
Anna era seduta in corridoio, stavolta. Sembrava addormentata, ma quando lui le si avvicinò lei aprì gli occhi e gli sorrise. “C’è il dottore dentro,” disse, dato che lui aveva scoccato uno sguardo alla porta. Allora Cavendish si sedette al suo fianco.
“Iulo?”
“Se n’è andato.” Anna si stiracchiò. “Ha detto che se fossi arrivato tu avrebbe dovuto arrestarti e non ne aveva granché voglia. Almeno, questa è la versione ufficiale.”
“Che idiota,” fu l’unica cosa che gli uscì dalle labbra. Non gliene importava un fico secco della versione ufficiosa. Lei si appoggiò con la testa al palmo della mano, mordendosi un labbro.
“Devo dire che pensavo in effetti in una conclusione diversa…” mormorò sottovoce, tanto che lui non riuscì a capire nulla delle frasi successive, UST e roba varia. Be’, non che contasse troppo, se Iulo si comportava da imbecille non erano affari suoi. Non gl’importava.
Aspettarono in silenzio, finché il dottore non uscì dalla sala. Vedendoli, fece un cenno d’assenso e lasciò la porta socchiusa, prima di allontanarsi. Anna si voltò verso Cavendish e annuì, per indicargli di andare.
Lui si alzò, ma prima di andare domandò: “Come sta?”
“Non bene. Lo vedrai.”
Non era la risposta che sperava, ma non fece altre domande, perché Anna aveva girato la testa verso la finestra e non lo stava più guardando. Quindi aprì la porta ed entrò nella stanza. Cercò a tentoni la luce e l’accese, perché era semibuia e non riusciva a distinguere bene il luogo.
Sabo era sdraiato sul letto, con i cuscini che lo tenevano eretto, e stringeva fra le mani un foglio spiegazzato, che fissava con sguardo vacuo. Non si era voltato né quando l’altro era entrato, né quando aveva acceso la luce. Cavendish gli si avvicinò con cautela, sbirciando leggermente per vedere cosa fosse quel foglio.
Era una avviso di taglia.
Di Ace Pugno di Fuoco.
Un po’ contrariato, si sedette a fianco del letto. La guerra di Marineford era stata importante a livello internazionale, quindi non c’era da stupirsi che gli altri gliene avessero parlato. Sicuramente avrebbe portato conseguenze anche per i rivoluzionari. Ma, al momento, la cosa più importante era che lui fosse lì. Attese un attimo, sperando che l’altro si voltasse a guardarlo, ma non successe.
“Sai, sono diventato un pirata,” disse allora Cavendish, che non sopportava di non essere considerato. Estrasse dalla tasca la sua taglia. “Guarda qui: centoventi milioni. Niente male, eh?” Rimase fermo, aspettando una qualsiasi reazione, che però non arrivò. Sabo non aveva nemmeno mosso gli occhi, che continuavano a rimanere fissi sul viso sorridente di Ace nella foto.
Cavendish davvero non sopportava di non essere considerato. Di getto, afferrò l’altro avviso e glielo strappò dalle mani. A quel punto, Sabo lo guardò, ma non era l’espressione che si era aspettata. Era quasi d’odio. Con forza, gli riprese dalle mani il foglio e lo strinse a sé, continuando a fissarlo come se per lui fosse un estraneo. Cavendish rimase a ricambiare lo sguardo, incapace di proferire parola.
“Scusami,” mormorò alla fine Sabo, dopo parecchi minuti di silenzio. Abbassò lo sguardo sulla taglia, che l’altro aveva ancora stretta fra le mani, e sorrise. “Davvero niente male. Sono contento per te.” E poi tornò con lo sguardo sulla foto di Ace.
“Che succede?” domandò Cavendish. Quello non era l’amico che conosceva. Lo vide deglutire ed aprire la bocca senza emettere alcun suono.
“Mio fratello,” riuscì a sussurrare Sabo, alla fine.
Dato che non era sicuro di aver capito bene, sbatté le palpebre più volte, aspettando in un’illuminazione che non arrivò. Lui sapeva che aveva due fratelli, di cui parlava spesso, ma uno dei due non poteva essere Pugno di Fuoco. Era impossibile, la sua stessa esistenza era già una cosa strana. Ma era vero che c’era pure Cappello di Paglia in mezzo, che sarebbe stato il secondo fratello…
“Non di sangue, ovviamente.” La frase di Sabo lo riscosse dai suoi pensieri, e quindi si rimise ad ascoltare con attenzione. “Avevamo fatto il patto di considerarci come fratelli, ma poi sono successe un sacco di cose e ci siamo separati…” La voce si faceva sempre più flebile, fino a tacere totalmente. “Sai quando mi sono svegliato?” Cavendish scosse la testa: Anna l’aveva chiamato una settimana fa, ma immaginava che non fosse la data esatta. “Il giorno della battaglia di Marineford. Giusto in tempo per scoprire che mio fratello era morto e io non avevo fatto nulla per salvarlo.” Il tono era sprezzante, ma le lacrime iniziarono a scorrere dalla sue guance.
“Non è stata colpa tua…” cercò allora di consolarlo Cavendish, senza troppa convinzione. Sabo era sempre stato quello forte, quello sicuro, quello con un sogno. Vederlo con il cuore spezzato era qualcosa così fuori dal mondo che non sapeva davvero cosa poter dire. Era proprio vero che quella guerra aveva cambiato tutto.
“Guardami.” Sabo allungò una mano ad indicare le sue gambe. “Non sono riuscito a combinare nulla di buono nella vita. Non sono diventato un pirata, alla prima missione seria mi sono fatto quasi ammazzare, ora non posso più nemmeno camminare.” La mano si strinse attorno all’avviso di taglia di Ace, spiegazzandola tutta. “E adesso mio fratello è morto…” Le lacrime, che prima si erano un attimo arrestate, tornarono copiose, e lui iniziò a singhiozzare contro quel foglio di carta.
Cavendish era rimasto senza parole, perché non aveva idea di cosa dire. Se vedeva una ragazza piangere, di solito bastava un suo sorriso per farla smettere. Quanto agli uomini, in media se ne fregava altamente. Eppure adesso aveva davanti una delle persone a cui teneva di più al mondo e non sapeva che cosa fare. Poteva uscire truccato tutte le mattine, ma a parte quello non sapeva veramente fare nulla.
“Entra nella mia ciurma!” esclamò allora all’improvviso. Era sempre stato il suo obiettivo, dopotutto, quello di averlo come compagno da quando aveva scoperto che probabilmente non avrebbe potuto più camminare. “La Rotta Maggiore è splendida! Be’, non quando me, ovviamente…” Sabo si voltò verso di lui e per un attimo, tra le lacrime spuntò un sorriso.
“Grazie,” gli disse. “Ma non voglio diventare la tua palla al piede.”
Cavendish stava per rispondergli che non lo era, che non lo sarebbe stato affatto, ma lo vide appoggiarsi contro il cuscino e chiudere gli occhi, con le guance bagnate e la taglia stretta al petto. E non seppe cos’altro dirgli.
Lentamente, si alzò ed uscì dalla stanza.
Epilogo
Erano passati due anni, da allora. Cavendish chiamava Anna di tanto in tanto per sapere se c’erano novità, ma non aveva avuto più il coraggio di contattare Sabo. Non finché non fosse stato in grado di dargli qualcosa di davvero concreto per farlo stare meglio, non semplicemente un po’ di trucco per coprire una cicatrice. Per quella che aveva nel cuore, il fondotinta non bastava.
Ma il Foco Foco avrebbe potuto funzionare.
Si avvicinò alla parete dove erano appese le taglie delle supernove, ciascuno dei quali era completamente rovinate dai tagli procurati dai coltelli quando li usava come bersaglio. Lentamente, tolse la lama che ancora era infilata in quella di Rufy Cappello di Paglia. Il fratello di Sabo. Si chiese se anche lui si sarebbe presentato a reclamare il frutto di Ace.
Si voltò un attimo, e ci fu il dramma. Qualcuno aveva infilzato con uno dei suoi stessi coltelli uno dei suoi avvisi. Chi aveva osato rovinare il suo viso, anche solo in fotografia? Si gettò contro e tolse l’arma, consapevole che ormai era troppo tardi per rimediare al danno, ma si accorse che appeso al manico c’era un piccolo sacchetto. Lo aprì: dentro conteneva l’Eternal Pose per Dressrosa.
Poteva averglielo portato un’unica persona: sbatté la porta uscendo, vedendo i suoi uomini sul ponte tutti intenti a lavorare per stabilire una rotta. Sembrava che non si fossero accorti di nulla, ma Cavendish chiese comunque: “Avete visto qualcuno?” Senza attendere nemmeno risposta, che fu comunque negativa, si sporse oltre il parapetto, sia a prua che a poppa, ma non c’erano imbarcazioni né qualsiasi altro mezzo nei dintorni.
Seccato, tornò in cabina come una furia, con somma incredulità dei suoi uomini, dato che avrebbe potuto rovinarsi la piega a correre così. Una volta chiusa la porta dietro di sé, prese il lumacofono e compose finalmente quel numero dietro la fotografia. Suonò libero per qualche minuto, poi finalmente si sentì il rumore della cornetta dall’altra parte della linea, ma nessuno rispose. Cavendish deglutì, ma non aprì bocca.
“Troppo tardi.” La voce ironica di Iulo risuonò sicura attraverso il lumacofono, assieme alla sua risatina. Era chiaro che si riferiva al fatto che non si fosse accorto della sua presenza. “Certo, visto il tempo che passi in bagno…”
“Credevo che volessi arrestarmi,” commentò allora lui, sullo stesso tono. “Hai avuto paura?” Poteva quasi immaginarsi la sua espressione, con il labbro leggermente piegato da una parte e le sopracciglia alzate.
“No, solo che sarebbe controproducente dato che mi servi per recuperare il Foco Foco,” replicò con noncuranza. “Oppure non ne sei in grado? In ogni caso, speravo che avessi una taglia un po’ più alta, ma ultimamente le supernove-”
“Ne sono in grado benissimo!” Cavendish non era più abituato a discutere con lui, si era quasi dimenticato di quanto fosse snervante. E di quanto sapesse dove colpire. “Tu, piuttosto! È anche amico tuo!” Il nome di Sabo aleggiava nella conversazione fin dall’inizio. Era il motivo di quella telefonata, ma nessuno voleva nominarlo.
“Dragon non ne approverebbe, se andassi a ficcare il naso negli affari di Doflamingo. Non posso farlo, ho degli ordini e nessuno sarebbe contento se combinassi un casino.” La voce di Iulo era rassegnata. “Tu, d’altro lato…” Sul volto di Cavendish si formò un sorriso trionfante.
“Essere un pirata non sembra così male adesso, eh?”
“Avresti potuto andare a Dressrosa anche senza essere un pirata.” La voce di Iulo si era rifatta fredda, come l’ultima volta che ricordava di averla sentita. Cavendish ebbe immediatamente la tentazione di rispondergli male, ma la conversazione sarebbe finita come tre anni prima. E lui si era sempre domandato cosa sarebbe potuto succedere, anche a Sabo, se le cose fossero andate diversamente. Allora si sedette sul suo morbido letto e sospirò.
“Perché odi tanto i pirati?” domandò. Per qualche minuto, avvertì solo il respiro dall’altro lato della cornetta.
“Mio padre era un marine. Non sai quante storie mi ha raccontato…” Iulo tranciò il discorso a metà, e dato che a lui pareva un motivo idiota, stava per replicare, ma l’altro proseguì: “Soprattutto, mi ha raccontato di un suo amico d’infanzia. Anche lui voleva diventare pirata perché il governo non gli piaceva e voleva essere libero. È finita che si sono quasi ammazzati a vicenda.”
“Be’, tu non sei un marine,” fu il commento di Cavendish, che si sentiva un po’ Capitan Ovvio. Non trovava infatti attinenza con la cosa, dato che i rivoluzionari non andavano in giro a salvare il mondo dai criminali, ma cercavano di ricostruirlo dal principio.
“Non c’entra,” rispose Iulo. “È che la vita da pirata ti consuma. Non hai regole, e alla fine te le crei da sole. E non riesci più a distinguere le cose. La moralità.” Gli amici. Lui non lo disse, ma era l’unica conclusione a quella frase.
“A me non è successo. E non sarebbe successo nemmeno a Sabo.” Era stato proprio lui ad insegnargli cosa significasse essere un amico, non se lo sarebbe mai potuto scordare.
“È solo perché il sangue macchia troppo i vestiti.” La sua voce adesso era tornata la solita, ma Cavendish non capì se lo stesse sfottendo oppure se fosse una maniera scherzosa per cambiare argomento. Gli andava bene in entrambi i casi.
“Già, e puzza. E mi rovina i capelli.” Lo sentì scoppiare a ridere.
“Allora mi dispiace, perché temo che al torneo ti spettinerai un po’.”
“Di quello non preoccuparti, me la so cavare.”
Sembrava una discussione unicamente estetica, ma entrambi sapevano che stavano parlando anche della difficoltà che poteva essere battersi con le persone che desideravano il Foco Foco.
“Tra l’altro, pare che il frutto del diavolo sia stato messo in palio per attirare in trappola Cappello di Paglia,” mormorò Iulo, quasi fra sé, cosciente che fosse un’informazione estremamente importante. Era il fratello di Sabo, dopotutto. Erano dalla stessa parte. “Be’, prendi a calci in culo qualche pirata anche da parte mia.”
“Questo credo di poterlo fare.”
Non si salutarono nemmeno, misero semplicemente giù la cornetta allo stesso tempo. Poi Cavendish alzò lo sguardo a guardare l’avviso di taglia di Rufy: il suo volto quasi non si distingueva. Aveva sempre finto con i suoi uomini di avercela anche con lui, in quanto supernova, ma naturalmente nel suo caso era una farsa, per nascondere la storia di Sabo. In realtà era impaziente di conoscerlo.
Si chinò per raccogliere la roba che aveva rovesciato a terra e si mise davanti allo specchio. Come aveva immaginato, il brutto risveglio della mattina gli aveva fatto venire le occhiaie. E le preoccupazioni una piccola ruga sulla fronte. Fortuna che sapeva come nascondere il tutto, con la sua passione per il trucco.
Non avrebbe rivelato nulla, al torneo. Avrebbe continuato a far finta di avercela con tutte le supernova, per dare meno sospetti sull’unico motivo per cui si trovava in quel luogo, e dei legami che lo collegavano a Rufy, il quale ne era all’oscuro e come tale doveva rimanere. Avrebbe indossato la sua maschera con il make-up, come sempre. Come quando cercava di fare l’uomo, lo spadaccino o il pirata.
Aprì la porta e si sporse sul ponte principale, per lanciare al suo navigatore l’Eternal Pose.
“Rotta per Dressrosa, andiamo a prenderci il Foco Foco.” -
.
La prima volta che Keith sentì parlare di quella storia, era durante una pausa dalle prove. Shiro era fuori della stanza, a parlare con Coran riguardo a una sistemazione dell’audio che non funzionava come si deve.
Tutti gli altri erano nel lounge, mollemente adagiati sui divanetti. Avevano parlato e discusso fino a quel momento, avevano la gola secca e voglia di silenzio. Per lo meno, finché Pidge, che stava giocherellando con il suo cellulare, non ruppe la quiete della stanza, ridacchiando.
“Non ci posso credere.”
Keith aprì un occhio per sbirciare nella sua direzione. Hunk le si era già avvicinato per sbirciare di che cosa stesse parlando.
“Di che parli?” Lance domandò.
“Lo sapete che c’è un ramo delle nostre fan che shippa assieme tu e Keith?”
“CHE COSA?” Lance sembrava sul punto di sputare un polmone.
“Che vuol dire?” commentò invece Keith, alzando un sopracciglio pensieroso. In inglese era abbastanza ferrato, ma non riusciva a coordinare quello che diceva Pidge con qualcosa di sensato. Tra l’altro lui e Lance non avevano ancora registrato duetti assieme, quindi non capiva che cosa di lui e Lance potesse essere spedito assieme. “Spediscono delle lettere indirizzate a entrambi?” chiese infine.
Pidge scoppiò a ridere. “Ma no! È un termine tecnico usato nel fandom.”
“Non sto capendo.”
“Le fan pensano che tu e Lance stiate assieme. Fidanzati,” spiegò alla fine Hunk, con un sorriso divertito.
Keith impiegò diverso tempo a processare l’informazione. “E come gli è venuto in mente?” mormorò alla fine, e scoccò un’occhiata di traverso a Lance come a incolparlo della situazione.
“Ah, non ci pensare proprio,” ribatté Lance. “Pensavo che i miei post su Instagram fossero abbastanza espliciti a riguardo.”
Pidge alzò le spalle. “Sono fantasie delle fan, non è che debbono per forza avere delle basi reali. Voi siete i due membri di Voltron più attraenti: chi non si autoshippa con uno di voi vi shippa assieme.”
“Autoshippa?” mormorò Keith.
“Sì, sai, immaginare di incontrarvi e di farvi innamorare di lei.”
“Ah, capisco. E comunque sono in disaccordo. Shiro è decisamente più attraente di me. E avrebbe anche più senso se fossimo… shippati assieme.”
“Vero?” Lance saltò su. “Sarebbe molto meno peggio essere shippato assieme a Shiro.”
Il quale entrò in quel momento, sorridendo. “Che cosa, su di me?”
“Sapevi che le fan vogliono Lance e Keith assieme?” Pidge aveva un sorriso furbo sul viso, cosa che fece alzare gli occhi al cielo a Keith.
“Sì, lo sapevo,” rispose Shiro tranquillo. “Coran è abbastanza informato su queste cose.”
Coran gonfiò il petto orgoglioso. “Vi ricordo che sono il vostro ufficio marketing. Fa parte del mio lavoro. E, devo ammettere, là fuori ci sono un paio di fanfiction niente male. Però sono vietate ai minori, quindi vi proibisco di leggerle.”
“Noooo!” protestò Pidge. Lance fece finta di vomitare.
“Non ti dà fastidio?” Keith domandò.
Shiro si abbassò, gli passo le braccia attorno al collo e gli baciò i capelli. “Nah. Finché non metterai in pratica con Lance le cose scritte in quelle fanfiction, sono a posto.”
Keith scoccò un’occhiata a Lance. “Decisamente non succederà.”
@Orsetta_02 ha twittato:
Mio Dio ma avete visto le foto della nuova intervista??? Sto morendo!!
@MissMcClain ha twittato:
Lance e Keith e quello sguardo! Non c’è niente da fare, possono anche metterli dalla parte opposta della stanza, ma si cercheranno sempre!
@TonksVoltroner ha twittato:
Sono così palesi non capisco perché la società si rifiuti di riconoscerlo noi qui non stiamo aspettando altro
Essendo una boy band composta da cinque elementi, e tenendoci particolarmente, era difficile che rilasciassero interviste separate. Serviva a tenere assieme la squadra. Tutti sostenevano che le boy band duravano al massimo tre anni, prima di sciogliersi e far sopravvivere solo i più bravi. I membri di Voltron erano di tutt’altra idea.
Proprio per questo motivo, Coran aveva cercato di procurare loro alcuni contratti provvisori come solisti e/o in coppia, senza dover per questo sciogliere la squadra. Era un modo per mettersi in gioco rimanendo sul percorso da loro fissato.
Non volevano rimanere una boy band in eterno, volevano diventare una band vera e propria. Qualunque esperienza era utile a raggiungere lo scopo.
Per questo motivo Keith aveva partecipato come ospite e seconda voce all’interno di un CD della Spade di Marmora. E per lo stesso motivo era stato invitato, da solo, a una trasmissione televisiva musicale. Tutti sapevano che Keith avrebbe preferito farsi tagliare un braccio piuttosto e convincerlo non era stata un’impresa facile.
Alla fine, avevano chiesto a Shiro di andare con lui, per lo meno dietro le quinte. Coran aveva letto e riletto le domande che avevano in mente di fargli e aveva costretto Keith a imparare a memoria delle risposte, in modo da evitare di impappinarsi durante il discorso.
“Durerà solo venti minuti,” gli disse Shiro. “Non sono niente venti minuti. Sono decisamente meno di quanto impieghiamo a letto.” Arrossì un secondo dopo. “E adesso tu ti scorderai di quello che ho appena detto.”
Keith anche era arrossito, ma quella stupidaggine lo aveva rilassato. “Me lo scorderò ma stasera ti metterò alla prova,” commentò, prima di andare in scena.
Bob l’intervistatore lo fece entrare in scena, lo salutò stringendogli la mano e lo fece accomodare nella poltrona di fronte a lui. La prima parte dell’intervista andò come preannunciato, senza troppi problemi. A molte domande aveva già risposto, e per molte si trattava di parlare di Shiro, qualcosa che Keith faceva senza problemi. D’altronde, era vero che senza Shiro probabilmente non avrebbe mai iniziato a suonare.
“Quando vi è stato chiesto, a te e a Shiro, di unirvi a un trio per formare un gruppo, come l’avete presa?”
“Non è stato facile, all’inizio,” disse Keith. “Eravamo abituati in un modo e dovevamo adattarci completamente a un altro, e ad altre persone. Sinceramente, io non ero molto dell’idea. Però volevamo davvero partecipare a x-factor, avevamo passato le selezioni iniziali… e così ci siamo adattati.”
“Col senno di poi, è stata un’ottima scelta.”
“Già, e non cambierei il mio team con nessun altro. Shiro comunque è stato fondamentale per amalgamarci come si deve. Mi dispiace solo che non possiate più sentirlo suonare la chitarra.”
“Qualcuno dice che, a x-factor, volessero solo Shiro. Tu sei stato… collaterale, dato i problemi di salute di Shiro.”
Keith digrignò appena i denti, e poi ripeté la frase che Coran aveva preparato per lui. “Credo che l’essere stato scelto per partecipare a questo CD sia la prova del mio valore, a prescindere dalle circostanze iniziali.”
“Indubbiamente.” Bob si allungò sulla scrivania e afferrò il cellulare. “Ora. Ho chiesto ai tuoi fan di mandarmi dei tweet con l’hashtag #askkeith. Sei pronto a rispondere alle loro domande?”
“Pronto e impaziente.” Come a una visita dal dentista.
Questa era effettivamente la parte più pericolosa dell’intervista. Coran lo aveva rassicurato dicendo che i fan avrebbe chiesto domande molto basiche, e che Bob stesso non avrebbe scelto cose che potevano metterlo in imbarazzo. Doveva solo rispondere più brevemente possibile e sarebbe andato tutto bene.
Bob scorse lo schermo del cellulare col dito pollice. “Oh, ecco, una carina. Qual è il tuo animale preferito?”
“L’ippopotamo.”
“Una… scelta davvero particolare. Posso chiedere perché?”
“Gli ippopotami sono animali letali. Sapevi che hanno ucciso più persone loro che gli squali l’anno scorso? E nonostante ciò hanno un aspetto morbido e pacioccoso.”
Bob rise. “Non credo di vorrei mai averti come nemico, Keith.” Ritornò a scorrere lo schermo, per un numero di secondi che a Keith parvero interminabili, finché Bob sospirò. “Scusa, ma il novanta percento dei fan sembrerebbe interessato solo al tuo rapporto con Lance?”
Keith alzò appena un sopracciglio. “Con Lance?”
“Sì. Dicci un po’ di più a riguardo.”
“Io e Lance… ci abbiamo messo un po’ ad andare d’accordo,” raccontò Keith. “Siamo due persone molto diverse, con interessi molto diversi… e nei nostri rispettivi gruppi avevamo anche lo stesso ruolo, anche se lui suona il basso.”
“Immagino che non sia stato facile per Lance accettare di essere la terza voce del gruppo.”
“Infatti.” Keith annuì. “Ma è più bravo di me con il suo strumento, per cui ci bilanciamo bene all’interno del gruppo. Siamo un’ottima squadra, noi di Voltron.”
“Quindi adesso non ci sono più problemi fra te e Lance?”
“No. Siamo diventati amici. Abbiamo ancora le nostre differenze e ci divertiamo a prenderci in giro, ma sappiamo di poter contare l’uno sull’altro.”
“Bene. Spero che tutte le fan che ci hanno subissato di domande su voi due siano soddisfatte.” Mentre Bob tornava a cercare una domanda adatta, Keith spostò lo sguardo verso le quinte. Coran non c’era più, ma Shiro era sempre lì e gli fece appena un cenno con la testa e il segno dell’ok con il pollice. Keith sorrise appena prima di voltare di nuovo lo sguardo su Bob.
“Eccone un’altra interessante: un posto dove ti piacerebbe andare in vacanza.”
“In Giappone,” rispose prontamente Keith. “Shiro me ne ha parlato sempre tantissimo e mi piacerebbe andarci un giorno, assieme. I suoi genitori vivono ancora là, ma io non sono mai riuscito ad andare a trovarli per via del lavoro e tutto.”
“Magari prima o poi ci andrete in tournée!”
“Mi piacerebbe.”
Bob tornò al suo cellulare. “Sei mai stato a Cuba?”
“No, mai. Lance ci ha invitato una volta, non sono sicuro se scherzasse oppure no. Magari anche lì andremo per un concerto, chissà.”
Ogni volta, passava parecchio tempo fra una domanda e l’altra, perché apparentemente Bob doveva cercare fra la grande quantità di domande che scartava. “Cibo preferito?”
“Mac & Cheese. Cioè, in realtà è il cibo preferito di Shiro, ma l’abbiamo mangiato talmente tante volte ormai che è proprio il primo che mi viene in mente.”
“Tu e Shiro siete davvero molto legati, vero?”
Keith sorrise. “Direi proprio di sì.”
“Bene, era l’ultima domanda perché non abbiamo più tempo.” Due persone dello staff si avvicinarono per montare un microfono e portare una chitarra, dato che Keith avrebbe dovuto esibirsi. “Signore e signori, Keith Kogane di Voltron!”
Al termine della sua canzone, salutò il pubblico e uscì. Shiro lo stava ancora aspettando. Gli sorrise, ma non si azzardò a fare più di appoggiargli una mano sulla spalla.
“Secondo te Bob voleva insinuare qualcosa, con quell’ultima domanda?” domandò Keith.
“Chissà. Magari la gente inizierà a shippare noi due d’ora in poi,” scherzò Shiro.
“Ti prego di non ricordarmi mai più di questa cosa.”
“Hai ragione. Le fanfiction su di noi le posso scrivere solo io.”
“Ma smettila!” Poi lo guardò di traverso. “Non stai parlando sul serio, vero?”
“Non lo scoprirai mai,” rise Shiro. “Al massimo puoi farti un giro nell’archivio per vedere se riconosci qualche storia autobiografica.”
“Ti prego dimmi che non stai parlando sul serio! Shiro!”
@Lancesavedme ha twittato:
LANCE HA INVITATO KEITH AD ANDARE A CUBA CON LUI A PRESENTARLO ALLA SUA FAMIGLIA E VOLETE DIRMI CHE NON STANNO ASSIEME!
@M_Voltron_forever ha twittato:
Comunque si vedeva che Keith avrebbe voluto dire di più quando parlava di Lance, ma figurati, gli avranno preparato le risposte apposta
@CrazyforKeith ha twittato:
Bob ha fatto delle domande stupidissime e ha ignorato quelle davvero importanti
@MaRtY_V ha twittato:
Ma secondo voi chi stava guardando Keith quando si è voltato? Ha pure mezzo sorriso!
@KMcClain ha twittato in risposta a @MaRtY_V:
È ovvio che stava guardando Lance! Era proprio dopo la domanda su di lui!
@MisspixieMcClain ha twittato in risposta a @MaRtY_V @KMcClain:
Oh, sì, immagino che Lance abbia accompagnato Keith all’intervista come un bravo fidanzatino!
Con un sospiro seccato, Keith si alzò stiracchiandosi e maledicendo chi osava chiamarlo la domenica mattina. Allungò annoiatamente la mano sul cellulare prima di gettarsi di nuovo sul cuscino e rispondere. Sullo schermo comparve il volto di lance, seminascosto da due magliette.
“Veloce, quale delle due ti sembra più carina?”
“Ma cosa… Lance, non mi avrai chiamato di domenica mattina per un consiglio di moda?”
“E dai, ho un appuntamento e nessuno degli altri mi risponde! Cosa credi, che avrei chiesto a te come prima scelta? Con tutto il rispetto, ma non sei un tipo da moda.”
Nonostante Keith non potesse negare di non essere la persona ideale per certi tipi di consigli, non aveva intenzione di darla vinta a Lance. “Va bene, allora in questo caso metto giù.”
“No, no, no! Dai, questo appuntamento è troppo importante per me!”
“E va bene… direi… maglia blu?”
“Okay, vada per la viola.”
Keith alzò gli occhi al cielo. “Ciao, Lance.”
“Augurami in bocca al lupo. È la donna dei miei sogni!”
“Lo dici tutte le settimane.”
“Questa volta sono serio. È quasi un miracolo che abbia accettato di uscire con me, sono un pochino teso…” E lo sembrava davvero, dal tono della voce.
“Andrai alla grande, Lance.”
“Lo spero. Grazie. Scusa, ti lascio alla tua domenica di riposo.”
Keith chiuse la chiamata e lanciò il cellulare sul letto. Shiro spuntò la testa dalla porta della camera da letto, la mano sinistra che si passava l’asciugamano tra i capelli per asciugarli. “Chi era?”
“Lance. Aveva bisogno di consigli per un appuntamento. Da me, poi?”
“Già, non è che nella band tu sia l’unico in una relazione stabile, dopotutto.”
Keith sorrise. “Hai una chiamata anche tu. Ha chiamato tutti.”
“Loverboy Lance agitato per un appuntamento. È una novità.” Shiro era tornato nel bagno e urlava per farsi sentire dalla camera da letto.
“Già. Chissà, forse è la volta buona che esce con una donna in carne e ossa e non con una sua fantasia.”
Dal bagno si sentì il tossire di Shiro, un modo per cercare di non ridere. “Non essere cattivo.”
“Dico solo la verità. Ti ricordi quella volta che ha parlato per giorni di dover passare il weekend con una bellissima bionda e abbiamo scoperto essere la cagnolina di sua sorella?”
Stavolta, la risata di Shiro fu alta e chiara. “Si sta rifacendo con gli interessi, comunque,” gli comunicò tornando in camera, solo un asciugamano avvolto attorno al busto. “Esce con Allura.” Keith, che era rimasto a fissare il petto di Shiro con la bocca aperta, e come se non l’avesse mai visto, sbatté le palpebre appena.
“Oh, una con lo stesso nome della figlia del boss della nostra casa discografica?”
“No, proprio lei.”
Questo bastò a far risvegliare Keith dal torpore. “Ti prego, dimmi che ho sentito male e che Lance non sta davvero uscendo con la figlia del nostro boss.”
“Allura non è solo la figlia del nostro boss, ti ricordo che è il capo di Coran e che si occupa di persona di quello che concerne l’organizzazione a monte della nostra carriera.”
“Che dopo oggi finirà.”
“Per colpa tua che non hai dato abbastanza consigli amorosi a Lance,” ribatté Shiro con un sorriso divertito, mentre si sdraiava a fianco a lui.
“Considerando il tempo che ci ho messo a capire che forse avevo una possibilità con te, meglio così per Lance,” commento Keith. Shiro lo attirò a sé con il suo braccio e lo baciò sulla guancia.
“A tua discolpa, nemmeno io me n’ero accorto.”
Avrebbe voluto baciarlo, ma c’era ancora un piccolo arricciamento sulla fronte di Keith. “No, ma seriamente, come gli è venuto in mente a Lance?”
“Aveva la cotta da un po’. Ogni tanto me ne parlava, dato che io e Allura abbiamo passato un po’ di tempo assieme ai tempi della mia riabilitazione. Solo che non osava farsi avanti perché prima lei era fidanzata, poi si è lasciata e a lui scocciava approfittarne, e così… è passato un anno e mezzo.”
“Non ha battuto il nostro, di record. Buon per lui.”
“Già.” Shiro lo baciò ancora sulla guancia. “Vogliamo parlare tutta la domenica dell’appuntamento di Lance?”
Keith gli scoccò un’occhiataccia. Poi gli rispose prendendogli il viso fra le mani e baciandolo.
@ILoveMarvel ha twittato:
MA CHI E’ QUESTA CHE ESCE CON LANCE COSA STANNO DICENDO QUESTI GIORNALISTI?!?!
@Juventina-Voltroner ha twittato:
Ragazzi, stiamo tutti calmi. È chiaro che è tutta un’idea della casa discografia per non far capire che Lance e Keith stanno assieme.
@Voltroner_Pidge ha twittato in risposta a @Juventina-Voltroner:
No, ma infatti. Guarda caso esce con la figlia del proprietario della loro casa discografica. Sgamabilissimi proprio.
@Lance_I_love_you ha twittato:
Io quest’omofobia non la capisco proprio! Lasciate che i due ragazzi si amino liberamente!
@Lookingatthestar ha twittato:
Gente. Gente. Ma avete notato com’era vestito Lance? Jeans e maglia viola! La bandiera bisessuale!
@Lookingatthestar ha twittato:
E poi non venite a dirmi che è stata una sua idea quell’appuntamento.
“Ho trovato questa fanfiction bellissima!”
Keith alzò gli occhi al cielo. Non avrebbe mai capito quell’insana passione di Pidge per le fanfiction. Tra l’altro sembrava avere la passione per quelle più truculente o trash. Shiro poteva dirgli quante volte voleva che erano solo fantasie adolescenziali, ma era ancora rimasto sconvolto quando Pidge aveva declamato ad alta voce in sala registrazione la scena in cui, secondo l’autrice, Keith aveva fatto un clistere a Lance.
“No, no, questa è davvero bellissima.” Pidge lo ignorò. “In pratica inizia con Lance che è abusato dalla sua famiglia e costretto a prostituirsi per strada per portare i soldi a casa.”
“Non ti voglio sentire.”
Pidge alzò la voce. “Invece tu sei il ricco e annoiato figlio del magnate della città, che vivi nell’attico enorme in cima al grattacielo e puoi permetterti di buttare i vestiti dopo averli indossati una volta sola.”
“Fammi indovinare, Keith pagherà Lance per fingersi momentaneamente il suo fidanzato, poi si innamoreranno e Keith salverà Lance dalla sua famiglia e da una vita di stenti,” disse Hunk. “È la trama di Pretty Woman!”
“No, Hunk, non capisci. È la trama di Pretty Woman con Lance al posto di Julia Roberts!” Scoppiarono tutti a ridere e Keith si sarebbe anche unito a loro se tutta questa pantomima non fosse fatta anche per prendere in giro lui.
“Ma perché non leggete fanfiction su di voi?” chiese. “Nessuno vi shippa? Nessuno vi immagina mentre vi fate un clistere a vicenda?”
“Keith!” protestò Hunk.
“Prenditela con Pidge, anche io avrei volentieri evitato di venire a conoscenza di questa cosa.”
“Se ho letto quella roba io, dovevate soffrire tutti,” replicò Pidge. “Comunque no, nessuno scrive su di noi, o comunque roba irrilevante. Però,” aggiunse in tono innocente, “ho trovato una storia con te e Shiro.”
“Oh, davvero?” Si maledisse un secondo dopo per il tono fin troppo interessato, e ancora di più quando notò il ghigno malefico di Pidge.
“Sì, in questa Shiro era il tuo fratellastro e abusava di te.”
“Sai cosa, mollo la band.”
“Eddai, stavo scherzando! Non sulla storia, ma…”
Intanto avevano raggiunto l’ufficio e dalle porte a vetri si vedeva Lance che discuteva animatamente con gli altri. Shiro era seduto con le braccia incrociate e osservava la scena, Coran era agitato tanto quanto Lance, mentre Allura, in piedi contro la parete, aveva un’espressione preoccupata.
“Oh, eccovi.” Lance lanciò a Hunk il suo cellulare. “Avanti, fammi una fotografia. A me e ad Allura.”
Hunk si rigirò il cellulare fra le mani. “Perché?”
“Voglio metterla su Instagram così la gente la smette.”
“Ma che è successo?” domandò Keith. Il suo viso era rivolto verso Shiro, che sospirò.
“Sono uscite un po’ di foto degli scorsi appuntamenti e, insomma, alcuni fan non l’hanno presa benissimo.”
“Hanno scritto messaggi minatori ad Allura! L’hanno chiamata stronza e puttana! Ti pare normale?” gli chiese Lance. “Tu cosa faresti se qualcuno insultasse Shiro?”
“Non rispondere,” intervenne Pidge. Lo sapevano già che cosa sarebbe successo, dato che una volta Keith aveva quasi picchiato una persona per un mezzo insulto gridato tra la folla.
“E pensi che una foto risolva qualcosa?” chiese allora Keith.
“Non lo so, ma non posso stare senza far niente.” Le spalle di Lance si infossarono in se stesse.
“Io penso che dovremo lasciare perdere,” disse Allura. “Questa gente si calmerà prima o poi. Ogni tanto succede che qualcuno sia un po’ più… focoso nelle sue preferienze.”
Allora Keith capì. “Non sarà per la cospirazione che vede me e Lance segretamente innamorati? Avevate detto che era innocua.”
“Lo è,” ribatté Allura. “Sono ragazzine. Nessuna di loro può venire sotto casa mia ad accoltellarmi.”
Keith mantenne un’espressione poco convinta.
“Io invece penso che la foto sia una buona idea,” intervenne Shiro. “A volte i fan migliori sono quelli silenziosi. Io credo che molte persone si schiererebbero dalla vostra parte.”
Allura si umettò appena le labbra. “Che ne pensi, Coran?”
“Io avrei fatto un comunicato ufficiale,” rispose lui, “ma vedo che non sta funzionando. Penserebbero sempre che stiamo insabbiando la verità. Per cui sì, magari una foto un po’ più familiare, sull’Instagram personale di Lance, potrebbe funzionare.”
“D’accordo, allora,” accettò Allura.
Lance allungò la mano a stringere la sua. “Mi dispiace.”
“Non è colpa tua,” rispose lei.
Mentre li guardava, Keith non poté fare a meno di pensare a Shiro. Trovava veramente strano che nessuno avesse mai sospettato della loro relazione, ma che fossero subito saltati tutti alla giugulare di Allura. Scoccò un’occhiata a Shiro, come a fargli una domanda silenziosa, ma lui si limitò a un sorriso e a una leggera alzata di spalle.
@Crazy4Keith ha twittato:
Vabbè, ma queste fotografie sono proprio palesemente false. Cioè, Lance non sorride il quel modo!
@GiòlovesVoltron ha twittato in risposta a @Crazy4Keith:
No, ma infatti, naturalezza per niente. Paiono due modelli, non due fidanzati
@Crazy4Keith ha twittato in risposta a @GiòlovesVoltron:
Lance sorride davvero solo a Keith, parliamoci chiaro
@itsgottabeshiro ha twittato in risposta a @Crazy4Keith @GiòlovesVoltron
A me dispiace soltanto che adesso li stiano separando… ci avete fatto caso che prima erano sempre assieme e invece adesso né nelle foto di gruppo né in quelle ufficiali sono vicini? È triste che distruggano una storia d’amore così…
“Non lo farò.”
La voce di Keith era ferma, molto più tranquilla delle emozioni che sentiva dentro di sé. In piedi davanti alla scrivania, non stava guardando Coran per davvero. Il suo sguardo vagava più alla parete di fronte a sé, e cercava in ogni modo di non cadere al suo fianco, nelle sedie dove erano seduti Allura e Lance.
“Perché?” chiese quest’ultimo. Le sue parole risuonarono quasi come un grugnito alle orecchie di Keith.
“Non voglio separare la band.”
“Nessuna separazione,” si affrettò a specificare Coran. “Non sarebbe la prima volta che artisti all’interno di una band creano cd indipendenti. Lo hanno fatto persino i Queen!”
“I Queen potevano permetterselo,” ribatté Keith. “Noi no. Noi siamo una boy band e nell’istante in cui questo fantomatico cd uscirà, cosa credi che penserà l’opinione pubblica?”
“Be’, sicuramente parleranno di voi, il che non è affatto male,” intervenne Allura. “I giornalisti e le televisioni verranno a intervistare te e Lance, e poi gli altri. Noi diremo che era solo una sperimentazione, che la band è ancora intatta… I fan saranno interessati a seguire le nostre vicende e il prossimo cd che farete di nuovo come band avrà guadagni ancora maggiori, perché i fan saranno così felici che non vi siete separati che dimostreranno il loro supporto.”
Era una spiegazione convincente. In altre situazioni, Keith avrebbe anche pensato che fosse una buona idea. In altre situazioni, Keith avrebbe anche potuto accettare di fare un cd da solo con Lance. Non è che avesse mai negato il suo talento con il basso. Ma quelle non erano altre situazioni, e Keith non poteva accettare.
“Va bene,” disse quindi. “Facciamo che faccio un cd con Shiro, allora. Abbiamo già suonato assieme, eravamo un duo prima che ci fondessimo in Voltron. Sarebbe anche più credibile, no?”
“Be’, uhm, questo…” Coran si agitò sulla sedia. “Sappiamo che Shiro è molto popolare verso un determinato tipo di pubblico e noi vorremo…”
Le labbra di Keith si piegarono in un sorriso ironico. “Vorreste?”
“Insomma, Shiro non va bene.”
Parole sbagliate da dire. “Allora Hunk. O Pidge. Pidge sarebbe l’ideale, una voce femminile in un duo aiuta tanto.”
Lance si alzò di scatto e batté la mano contro la scrivania. “Ti fa proprio schifo suonare con me?”
“Lo sai che non è questo.”
“Ah, no? Perché pare che vuoi suonare con tutti tranne che con me! Il prossimo della tua lista chi è, Coran?”
“Guardate che io suono il pianoforte benissimo,” commentò Coran, un po’ offeso.
Allura afferrò Lance per un braccio, un gesto per calmarlo. “Stiamo puntando a un pubblico che solo tu e Lance potete attirare.”
“Certo. Il pubblico delle invasate che pensa che stiamo assieme e che ti spedisce disegni porno di me e Lance e che ti augura di morire affogata. Vuoi davvero attirare un pubblico simile?”
“Non è questo.” Allura premette le labbra assieme.
“A me pare che sia esattamente questo,” ribatté Keith. “Ci abbiamo provato in tutti i modi, ma queste credono che sia tutta una cospirazione vostra. Cosa credete penseranno se ci vedessero fare un cd assieme?” Keith passò lo sguardo su tutti e tre. “Ve lo dico io: penseranno di aver sempre avuto ragione. Penseranno che Allura è solo una copertura, che Coran e la casa discografica sono degli omofobi e che io e Lance stiamo davvero assieme e stiamo finalmente coronando il nostro sogno d’amore.” Poi rilasciò una risatina. “Non avremo nemmeno bisogno di cantare canzoni d’amore perché credano tutto questo.”
“E che male ci sarebbe?” Lance non lo stava guardando: era sempre in piedi davanti alla scrivania, la mano appoggiata sopra, lo sguardo basso.
“Che male ci sarebbe?” ripeté Keith, incredulo. “Non stai dicendo sul serio.”
“Invece sì.” Alla fine, Lance si voltò a guardarlo.
La presa di Allura sul suo braccio aumentò. “Abbiamo semplicemente pensato che la situazione sia un po’ sfuggita di mano. Se diamo un contentino a questo tipo di fan, magari la situazione si calmerà un attimino.”
“Assolutamente no,” disse Keith. “Questa gente al massimo ha bisogno di un buon psichiatra, non di un regalino sul un piatto d’argento.”
“Te lo sto chiedendo per favore, Keith!” Lance si liberò dalla presa di Allura e si avvicinò a lui. “Ma lo sai com’è? Com’è dare uno sguardo al proprio twitter e vedere solo insulti e minacce di morte nei confronti della tua ragazza? Coran ci deve filtrare la posta perché queste ci mandano le lettere con le foto di Allura tagliate a pezzi!”
“E ti a questa gente vuoi dargli un motivo in più per pensare che stiano facendo una cosa bella?” ribatté Keith. “Svegliatevi, gli insulti non diminuiranno, al massimo aumenteranno perché queste andranno a insultare tutti gli altri che avevano sostenuto la tua relazione con Allura.”
“Almeno proviamoci! Sono stanco, Keith, stanco. Che credano quello che vogliono, non m’interessa, basta che lascino in pace Allura.” Sbuffò. “Ma tanto a te che cosa te ne frega. Nessuno sospetta di te e Shiro. Sai cosa?” aggiunse, mentre tirava fuori dalla tasca il cellulare. “Magari dovrei scriverlo su twitter. Dovrei avere delle foto di te e Shiro assieme. Così magari capiresti che cosa si prova.”
“Lance…” Keith mormorò pericolosamente.
“Ehi, gente, lo sapete che Keith e Shiro scopano?” Lance si allontanò di qualche passo da lui mentre digitava sul cellulare. “E una bella foto di te e Shiro stravaccati dopo il concerto. Così pare post scopata.”
“Lance,” avvertì, questa volta, Allura, ma prima che potesse intervenire Keith si era già mosso in avanti e stava tentando di strappare di mano il cellulare a Lance.
“Mollami!”
“Tu molla il cellulare!”
Lance lo stava tenendo in alto davanti a sé, approfittando del fatto che Keith fosse leggermente più basso di lui. Coran si allungò e glielo strappò dalle mani, ottenendo un grido di protesta da parte di Lance.
“Dimmi che non l’ha inviato!” esclamò Keith.
“Sì, ma l’ho cancellato un secondo dopo, tranquillo. Non l’avrà visto nessuno. E Lance, ti proibisco di fare una cosa simile. Abbiamo già abbastanza problemi.”
Lance si riprese il cellulare con un gesto secco, senza togliere nemmeno per un attimo lo sguardo da Keith, il respiro pesante e l’espressione arrabbiata.
“Inoltre, abbiamo già parlato con la produzione e con il padre di Allura,” proseguì Coran. “Sono tutti d’accordo a procedere in questa direzione, per cui non c’è spazio per le discussioni. Tu e Lance farete un cd assieme, solo voi due.”
“No.”
“Ti prego, Keith. È per il bene della band,” disse Allura.
“Non è per il bene della band! Non posso credere che proprio tu fra tutti…”
“Se le circostanze fossero normali, tu lo faresti un cd solo con Lance, no?” domandò Allura. Il tono sembrava sfidarlo a dire il contrario. Keith rimase in silenzio.
“Ah, ecco, è questa la verità,” commentò Lance, con un riso amaro. “Le pazze sono solo una scusa. La verità è che pensi che io sia un incapace. L’hai sempre pensato e non ti è mai andato giù di essere costretto in una band con me.”
“Questo non è vero.”
“Invece è proprio così, mister gran talento. Puoi smettere di fingere, adesso,” ribatté Lance. “Sai cosa, forse hai ragione. Forse non dovremo fare questo cd, forse dovrei semplicemente lasciare la band. Non credo che sarei rimpianto.”
“Lance, adesso basta,” disse Allura. “Lo so che la situazione è pesante, ma…”
“La lascio io la band.”
“Cos…cosa?” Coran si alzò di scatto dalla scrivania. “Non scherzare su queste cose, su,” ridacchiò.
“Sono serissimo,” ripeté Keith. “Non ho intenzione di rimanere sotto una compagnia che lucra sulla pazzia della gente.” Né con una persona che invece di capire il suo punto di vista, lo attacca e addirittura rischia di mettere in difficoltà Shiro. Questo Keith non lo disse, ma lo pensava, e si vedeva anche chiaramente dalla sua espressione.
“Ma sì, dai, vattene. Così possiamo dire alla stampa che ci siamo lasciati! Questo di sicuro risolverà tutto.”
“No, aspettate, calmiamoci un attimo…” mormorò Allura. “Non credo si debba arrivare a tanto. E Keith, tu sei sotto contratto…”
“Straccialo, quel contratto.” Senza aspettare ulteriore risposta, camminò a grandi passi fuori della stanza.
“Ma… Ma non puoi!” chiamò Coran. “Abbiamo delle uscite pubbliche nelle prossime settimane, come faremo…!”
Keith non si voltò, né gli rispose. Lasciò l’edificio, tornò a casa e affondò nel divano.
@Shirosmylife ha twittato:
Ma perché Keith non c’è?
@stargaze ha twittato in risposta a @Shirosmylife:
Dicono che sia ammalato. C’è un comunicato stampa a riguardo.
@SaraVoltron ha twittato in risposta a @stargaze @Shirosmylife:
Io ho sentito delle voci strane… delle voci che dicono che abbia lasciato la band.
@Shirosmylife ha twittato in risposta a @SaraVoltron @stargaze:
No, dai, non può essere! E perché l’avrebbe fatto?
@stargaze ha twittato in risposta a @Shirosmylife @SaraVoltron:
Magari vuole tentare la carriera da solista?
@KeithMcClain ha twittato in risposta a @stargaze @Shirosmylife @SaraVoltron:
Keith non avrebbe mai lasciato Lance! L’hanno costretto a farlo, sono sicura! Per tenerli separati!
Si era trattenuto dal gridare “ma che ca-?” quando aveva aperto la porta, ma chiaramente la sua espressione doveva essere eloquente abbastanza e anche il leggero sobbalzo, perché Lance abbassò gli occhialoni da sole che portava e sussurrò, “scusa, ma non volevo rischiare che qualcuno mi vedesse venire qui. Sai, per… quella storia.”
“Certo.” Keith annuì.
Restarono per un attimo così, sulla soglia, Keith ancora con la mano sulla maniglia e Lance di fronte, la sciarpa ancora annodata attorno al collo a coprigli tutta la faccia e il grosso cappello abbassato fino alle sopracciglia.
“Posso entrare?”
Keith gli fece spazio per entrare. “Shiro non c’è.”
“Lo so.” Lance fece due passi timidi all’interno. “Sono venuto per te.”
“Per me?”
Mentre Keith chiudeva la porta, Lance si liberò finalmente della giacca e di tutto il resto dell’armamentario che aveva usato per travestirsi con un grosso sospiro di sollievo.
“Sì, senti… sono venuto a chiederti scusa.”
Keth si rabbuiò. “È stato Shiro a chiedertelo?”
“Cosa? No. Non me l’ha chiesto nessuno. È stata una mia idea.”
“Be’, non ce n’è bisogno.” Keith si accomodò sul divano.
Non aveva idea di come comportarsi. Lance non era esattamente un suo amico intimo, nel senso che di sicuro aveva più argomenti di conversazione con Hunk che con Lance, però non era nemmeno un estraneo. Avrebbe forse dovuto offrirgli qualcosa da bere? Gesticolò in maniera poco convinta verso il cesto di cioccolatini sul tavolino.
“Dicevo, non ce n’è bisogno perché capisco,” continuò Keith. “Se avessero insultato Shiro, avrei avuto voglia anche io di uccidere qualcuno.”
“Ma hanno insultato anche Shiro,” fece presente Lance. “Sì, meno di Allura, ma… sono stato a guardare alcuni twit. Non sono carini.”
“Già, be’, non sono nemmeno molti. Francamente, poteva andare peggio,” commentò Keith. “E poi Shiro ha una maniera diversa di approcciarsi. Tende a bloccare gli insulti o a farli rimuovere direttamente da Twitter, quindi si notano di meno.”
“Avrei dovuto farlo anche io…” ammise Lance.
“Be’, avevi le tue ragioni.”
Lance gli scoccò un sorrisetto divertito. “Ci sei tu dietro l’account shirodefencesquad? Ho visto che risponde a qualsiasi critica rivolta a Shiro.”
Keith arrossì. “No comment.”
“Lo sapevo! Non posso credere che tu non abbia un account ufficiale, ma ne abbia creato uno apposta per difendere Shiro.” Lance rise così forte che rischiò seriamente di cadere sul divano.
“Che bello che sei passato a trovarmi solo per ridere di me.”
“No, no, aspetta…” Lance prese un profondo respiro per calmarsi, anche se sulle sue labbra rimase sempre un sorrisetto divertito. “Parlavo sul serio, prima. Sono venuto a chiederti scusa… Ho sbagliato, ero triste e arrabbiato per quello che stava succedendo con Allura. Avevo paura di perderla e avrei fatto qualunque cosa per impedirlo. Ma tu non c’entravi niente.”
“Sì, senti… Lo so, lo capisco, non serve…”
“E avevi ragione. Il duetto era una pessima idea. Non mi va di acconsentire a certe cose quando l’unica cosa che vorrei fare è salire tipo in cima a un grattacielo e gridare al mondo quanto amo Allura.”
Keith si fermò a guardarlo. Non avrebbe mai pensato di sentire certe parole uscire dalla bocca di Lance ma non poteva dire di non capirlo.
“Quindi sono venuto a chiederti scusa e a chiederti di tornare in squadra.”
“Va bene, scuse accettate, ma anche io te ne devo. Avrei dovuto affrontare la situazione meglio.”
“Pace fatta?” Lance gli allungò la mano e Keith la strinse.
“Pace. Ma per quanto riguarda la squadra…”
“Non ci provare nemmeno,” lo interruppe Lance. “Noi siamo Voltron. Non esiste Voltron senza uno di noi, te incluso. E poi chi insulto io durante le prove? Pidge mi ha picchiato l’ultima volta!”
Poiché si poteva immaginare perfettamente la scena, Keith non riuscì a trattenere un sorriso.
“Non so se è giusto che io ritorni, dopo il casino che ho montato su.”
“Vogliamo tutti che ritorni,” lo assicurò Lance. “E comunque, guarda che pure Shiro era in disaccordo con questa storia del duetto.”
“Lo so, me l’ha detto.”
“Eh, appunto. Non c’è ragione che tu non ritorni.” Poi Lance sbuffò. “Ma guarda se devo essere io a convincerti a tornare invece che il tuo uomo.”
Keith alzò le spalle. “Proprio perché è il mio uomo rispetta le mie decisioni.”
“Sarà anche così, ma poi si sfoga con noi. Pidge le ha contate: ieri Shiro ha pronunciato il tuo nome quarantasette volte, e non eri nemmeno presente!”
Keith arrossì. Ovviamente sapeva che Shiro lo voleva di nuovo nella band e di sicuro Keith voleva tornare, non l’avrebbe mai lasciata se non si fosse sentito con le spalle al muro. Era grato che Lance la prendesse più sul ridere, invece di tentare di convincerlo riguardo ai suoi sentimenti per la squadra.
Che erano tanti. Keith non si era mai sentito così solo, da quando non aveva più le prove da affrontare, le canzoni da scrivere, e tutti i progetti che facevano. Assieme.
“E va bene, ma lo faccio solo per togliervi dalla miseria.”
“Guarda, va più che bene!”
@zshelovesVoltron ha twittato:
Ragazze, da domani inizia la tournée di Voltron. Mi raccomando, per chi può andare ai concerti: sosteniamo i nostri ragazzi e la loro storia d’amore!
@MarriedtoShiro ha twittato in risposta a @zshelovesVoltron:
Assolutamente, chiunque ne abbia la possibilità, fate arrivare il nostro sostegno
@Lance<3 ha twittato in risposta a @zshelovesVoltron:
Più siamo meglio è! Facciamo capire alla casa discografica che sappiamo tutto e che chiediamo solo che li lascino vivere serenamente
@Keeef ha twittato in risposta a @zshelovesVoltron:
Siamo tante, siamo il gruppo più numeroso. Devono ascoltarci!
Il momento del concerto era il preferito di Keith. Sentiva proprio l’adrenalina scorrergli nelle vene e il fatto che lui e gli altri fossero davvero una squadra, un tutt’uno che suonava e cantava assieme per creare qualcosa di unico. E a questo si aggiungeva il pubblico, persone che credevano in loro e li sostenevano.
Per parecchi anni della sua vita, Shiro era stata l’unica persona a sostenerlo. Le cose erano cambiate di molto, ma Keith non si sarebbe mai stancato dell’abbraccio caldo del pubblico.
Inoltre, dopo tutti i problemi che avevano affrontato durante l’anno, era piacevole poter finalmente tornare alla routine della tournée, la rigida sveglia, le prove, il concerto, stravaccarsi tutti assieme sul divano esausti. Non permetteva molto di pensare, o di avere degli spazi personali per lui e Shiro, ma gli dava l’idea di avere uno scopo e un obiettivo.
“Grazie a tutti voi, Milano, per questa bellissima accoglienza!” urlò Shiro nel microfono. “Ma la serata è appena iniziata e adesso vi voglio tutti pronti, in piedi, perché è arrivato il momento di ballare!”
Keith aggiustò meglio la chitarra sulla spalla e scoccò un’occhiata rapida al pubblico sulle tribune, che piano piano stava obbedendo a Shiro, alzandosi dai propri posti. Notò anche che nella platea molte persone avevano iniziato a tirare fuori dei cartelli, ma quello era abbastanza normale. Nel buio, non era facilissimo capire cosa ci fosse scritto.
“Avanti, sapete già che cosa stiamo per cantare. Gridatelo tutti assieme, forza!”
Alcuni del pubblico obbedirono, ma Shiro rimase un po’ interdetto quando la parola più gridata dal pubblico non era il titolo della canzone. Keith stropicciò gli occhi per vedere meglio e solo allora capì cosa c’era scritto su quei cartelli.
Keith + lance = Love
“Bacio! Bacio! Bacio!”
“Oh mio Dio,” Hunk esalò da dietro. “Come hanno fatto a entrare con quella roba? Non abbiamo una sicurezza?”
“Sono dei fogli bianchi,” fece presente Pidge. “Avranno avuto un pennarello dietro e avranno scritto prima dell’inizio. Sono furbe. Sono ammirata. Quasi. Insomma…”
Smise di parlare quando Keith le scoccò un’occhiataccia.
“Stai bene, Lance?” chiese Hunk, notando che l’amico non aveva ancora detto una parola. La risposta fu un grugnito non meglio identificato.
“Bacio! Bacio! Bacio!”
“Gente, non è il nome giusto della canzone!” tentò Shiro.
Keith strinse le labbra. Da quello che vedeva, non tutte le persone del pubblico erano felici di questa situazione, anzi; in platea c’erano diverse persone che stavano cercando di zittire i propri vicini o di fargli abbassare i cartelli. Aveva ragione Shiro: le persone dalla loro parte erano molte di più di coloro che credevano alle teorie complottiste.
Si avvicinò a Shiro e allungò la testa verso il microfono. “Volete un bacio?” gridò. “Lo avrete!”
E si allungò verso Shiro, punte alzate per poter arrivare alla sua altezza. Un attimo dopo Shiro aveva la sua mano sinistra contro la sua schiena, per non farlo cadere mentre si baciavano. Nell’intero palazzetto era sceso il gelo e il silenzio, finché Lance, da dietro, non fischiò, e Pidge e Hunk iniziarono ad applaudire. L’applauso si sviluppò per tutta la grandezza del palazzetto.
Keith attese la fine prima di rivolgersi di nuovo al microfono. “Buon divertimento a tutti!”
Lasciò uno Shiro che tossì leggermente, imbarazzato, e tornò al suo posto. Lance gli scoccò un’occhiata divertita e gli fece un segno col pollice.
“Stasera mi cancello da Twitter,” gli comunicò.
Keith annuì in approvazione. Non avrebbero permesso, ma più, a questa gente di rovinare quello che stavano costruendo, fosse la loro carriera, le loro relazioni amorose e di certo non la loro amicizia.
“Allora, ragazzi, gridiamolo tutti assieme, sul serio stavolta!” disse Shiro “Form Voltron!” -
.
Shiro had have a lot of important role.
The best pilot of the Garrison for a long time (before Keith joined them), and breaker of most records.
Champion in the Galra arena, then leader of Voltron and pilot of the Black Lion.
He remained trapped for months inside the Lion’s consciousnesses before his soul was transplanted into a clone’s body.
At the end, he became Captain of the Atlas, able to turn the ship into a giant robot.
Organizing his own wedding shouldn’t be that hard.
Except it was.
Shiro was grateful Curtis’ parents had taken care of mostly of it, and that Lance and Hunk helped him with some things, but he still felt it was a disaster.
He did want to marry Curtis. He really did. But… Captain Takashi Shirogane was actually scared of it.
He paced his room to calm himself, before looking at the clock and realizing… he was supposed to be ready fifteen minutes ago.
He panicked.
He wasn’t his fault. Not entirely, at least.
He had spent two entire hours with Slav, assuring him in this reality everything was fine, including the guests’ socks. Shiro still wondered why they had invited him.
Then it turned out his wedding dress had been made wrong, not keeping in consideration his prosthetic hand, so they had to call the tailor for a last minutes patch ups, which made him lost the lunch.
And why the hell they thought it was a good idea having Kinkade as cameraman of the wedding?
The most unpleasant incident of the morning, though, had been Griffin. He had arrived asking explanations about Keith not attending the wedding. Now Shiro felt a little bit bad for having answer to him in the most aggressive way, at the point of making Matt joked about him being jealous of Keith.
“Well, Keith and Griffin had history, hadn’t they?” Matt had said. “And a wedding is the ideal place to, you know, find someone.”
Shiro had answered back to Matt badly too. “Keith isn’t interested in Griffin.” And he shot a glare at Matt to shut him up.
He wasn’t jealous of Keith. He was sad Keith wasn’t able to attend the wedding entirely. Keith was his best friend, of course Shiro wanted him at his side in one of the best day of his life. Keith had been here at Kerberos, Keith had been here when Shiro had returned to life, of course Shiro had expected to have him as his wingman at his wedding.
Instead, Keith declined. He’d even missed the bachelor party. Shiro had asked Lance to organized it and it had been a half disaster. Thus, it wasn’t Lance’s fault, no entirely. Shio had his own problem to deal with.
In his mind there, was the little, sad smile of Keith as he had spoken, “I’m sorry, Shiro, but I’m organizing a very long and important mission with the Blade and I can’t return to Earth just because until is finished.”
It had almost sounded like an excuse from Keith’s side. Since their return to Earth, Keith had distanced himself from Shiro, or at least that was Shiro’s impression. Shiro hadn’t pressed him. He couldn’t ask Keith more than what he had already done for him. “Sure, I understand. I’ll miss you.”
“Have fun and send me all the photos.”
Shiro accepted Keith not being there, but being reminder of it made his mood lower.
The rest of the morning was littered with some minor incidents that made Shiro sure the entire universe was against his wedding. But that was impossible, wasn’t it?
He grabbed his suit and tried to dress himself. Results: he put his pants backwards and he was unable to close correctly the buttons of his white shirt.
“Shiro, are you okay?” Lance knocked at the door in the exact moment Shiro threw the pants away, frustrated. “We’re waiting for you.”
“I know! Some… minor delay. I’ll be there soon!”
But instead of try to dress him again, he just sat down, face in his hands, wondering why getting ready for his wedding was being so fucking hard.
He jumped and panic when Curtis trumped in the room.
“You… You’re not supposed to be here. We can’t see each other before the wedding!”
“You’re not even dressed,” Curtis pointed out.
Shiro looked at himself and at his underwear. “Sorry.”
“Takashi, what is the problem?” Curtis got near and place both hands on his face. “I swear, Slav promised he won’t say anything during the ceremony.”
“I know, I know, it’s just…” Shiro sighed. He lifted his hand to move away Curtis’ hands and he took two steps behind. “There were so many problems I felt the universe is telling me to stop this.”
Curtis blinked. “What? What problems?”
“Well, let’s start with the flowers. We ordered white rose. And then it turns they brought us red and black instead.”
“Not big deal, I like them too.”
“Then the shrimps. The shrimps for the banquet! How the hell we’re suppose to eat so many shrimps? Why we ordered so much?”
“Let’s going around the street and invite everyone at our banquet. I’m pretty sure they all be delighted to see the Captain of the Atlas at his wedding day.”
“Ah, and the almonds. The almonds on the wedding cake!”
“What about them?”
“You’re allergic!”
“Oh. I won’t eat the cake then.”
“You can’t not eat the cake for your own wedding!”
“I can and I will, unless you’re trying to murder your husband the day of the wedding.” Curtis got near and this time Shiro allowed him to hug him and press his face against his chest. “Takashi. Please. Everything’s fine.”
“I know. I know… It’s just…” Shiro relaxed his muscles. “I became a little anxious after the Olkari ceremony.”
“Why?”
“Remember they asked us to hold a seed in our hand? I should have make grow your favorite flower and you the other way around. Our flowers didn’t match at all.”
Shiro’s flower had been a Leontopodium. He wouldn’t even have known what kind of flower it was, but he did because it was Keith’s favorite.
“Takashi.” There was seriousness in Curtis’ voice. “Do you believe in Soulmate?”
“Soulmate?”
“Yeah. The legend that at the beginning of time true lovers were a whole entity that got separate. And that they can be happy only when they find their other half.”
“You mean, like destiny? Like a person that find you again and again, no matter the circumstances, and that can bring you back even from the death?”
“Shit like that.”
“Of course no,” Shiro said, with a nervous laugh. Why should have?
“Good.” Curtis smiled. “No one but us can make this marriage work. Not the shrimp, not the flower, not even the Olkari. I love you, Takashi. I may not be your Soulmate, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Shiro eyes burned a little. “I love you too.”
“Feeling better?”
“Yes.” Shiro nodded. “Please tell everyone I’ll be there in five minutes.”
And this time, he made it. He dressed up in no time and reached for the church entrance, where the MFE Pilots, Sam and the remain Paladins were waiting for you.
“Where is Griffin?” he asked, while inside him tried not to panic again.
He was fine. Everything was fine.
“I’m here. I’m here.” Griffin rushed at Rizavi’s side, who shot him a curious look. “I’ll explain later.”
“That’s for sure,” Rizavi replied.
“Perfect!” Lance exclaimed. “Have you something blue, something old, something new and something loaned? Because we can’t start without.”
Shiro paled. “I only have… my suit… which is new…”
Everyone else shot an angry look at Lance, who scoffed. “It’s not my fault, it’s tradition.”
“If it helps, my bra is blue,” Lefidotter said. “And it’s old. And it’ll be loan if I give it to Captain Shirogane.”
“Are you really suggest to give Shiro a bra?” Pidge blinked.
“Do you have better ideas?”
They hadn’t.
They turned around while Lefidotter took off her bra. Shiro put it into a pocket of his dress, hoping to forget about it entirely.
“We won’t talk about it,” he ordered. “Let’s go before something else happen.”
“I’m sure none of it would have happened if a certain someone was there,” Griffin whispered. Shiro knew too well the certain someone that was supposed to be there.
They entered in the church. Pilots and Paladins hurried to positioned in the first benches, while Curtis was already there, his father at his next. The music started. Sam took Shiro’s arm and, at the end, they walked in the nave.
One step after another, Shiro’s worries increased again. He breathed hard to hid them at the back of his head. When he reached Curtis, he smiled, even if his heart was beating fast and definitely not because he was happy.
He should be. He was supposed to be.
But his all being was screaming as something was just off.
Curtis made a reassuring smile. Shiro nodded. He was ready.
“I… Takashi Shirogane… take you…” He paused. “I… Takashi Shirogane… take you…” He paused again. “Take you…”
“Stop.” Curtis lift his head and then gestured for the MFE pilots to come near. They stood, while Shiro and Curtis bent down, shielding the two of them from the rest of the church. Lance, Hunk, Pidge and Coran remained sat down on the bench, looking at each other with worries.
“I felt some hesitation.”
Shiro shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“I love you, and I want to marry you.” Curtis sighed. “But if you have even one inch of doubt, then I think we shouldn’t do it.”
Shiro looked at him and, as Curtis proposed it, he felt relief descending upon him. He heard Allura’s chuckling in his heard and, in that moment, he got the epiphany. Allura could have mess with the universe to make him understand his marriage with Curtis was a bad choice, but… He finally understood why he was a bad choice.
He couldn’t believe he had to organize a wedding with another person to get there but… Better late than never.
“I’m so sorry. You’re a great guy. I… I was happy with you.”
“I know.”
Even if they whispered, the pilots had heard them clearly. Griffin was restrained himself to laugh, Rizavi was smiling, Lefidotter looked as she would like to be somewhere else (like at the top of an erupting volcano) and Kinkade was still as a statue. They moved mechanically as Shiro and Curtis stood up.
“Well,” Shiro started, looking at all the people that had gathered together for his wedding. “It was a pleasure to see you all. I hope you like shrimps, because we have a lot.”
And with that, he run.
“My God.” It was Sam’s voice, followed by a laugh. There was also steps behind him: surely Lance and the others were coming after him.
Shiro opened the door of the church and went out, breathing the fresh air. The sunlight dazzled him for a second and, after his eyes regained their sight, an hoverbike stopped in the middle of the street, just in front of the church.
“Keith?” Shiro asked. Was he was imagining things now? “What are you doing here? Weren’t you in mission with the Blade of Marmora?”
Keith took off his helmet. “I was,” he confirmed. “But apparently I had a former classmate who doesn’t accept a no as answer and lied to me about an emergency and an explosion at the Garrison so I had to rush back on Earth with my wolf just to find out it wasn’t true and… Since I’m here…” He smiled, a soft one. “Did I miss it?”
“No,” Shiro’s voice cracked. “You’re just in time.”
He climbed down the church’s stair and, without a word, he jumped on the hoverbike, white dress and everything. Keith blinked, but didn’t ask. He just put back his helmet.
As the hoverbike raced in the distance, both of them heard a clear chorus of “about time!” -
.
Capitolo 8
Nentokanette what he was planning to do at the Reverie, she would probably agree to not be there. And she would certainly report him at the marine and ask for a divorce, and not necessary in that order.
So Sabo had to find an excuse to let her at Goa while he sailed for Mariejoa. It wasn’t an excuse per se, he thought for real it wasn’t a good idea for both sovereign to leave the kingdom. Someone had to stay and keep things in motion.
Of course Nentokanette wasn’t going to appreciate it. She had planned to go at the Reverie even before she had become queen, and Sabo was ruining her dream. The point was that Nentokanette couldn’t tell Sabo no, because he had his method to force her to agree. The main issue was enduring her behavior before the departure.
“You won’t fool anyone,” she told him when before Sabo left the palace. “Without me, everyone else will think something is off between us. They’ll talk.”
“Let them.”
“I don’t like it.” She glared. “She’ll come with you. Everyone will see. Everyone will know you’re a cheater.”
“Koala resigned two weeks ago.”
“Yeah, so you can bring her with you without showing she’s a mere maid. Clever choice.”
Sabo sighed. Lucky for him, it was the last discussion ever.
“The people of the Goa Kingdom will think how good you are as a queen, since you prefer stay here with them.”
Nentokanette snored. She had her back at him, with no intention at all to turn. Sabo sighed again. He didn’t even say her goodbye: it would have been another lie. He left the room and closed the door behind him.
Still the bad part of the day hadn’t ended yet. There was another person Sabo had to speak with, a person that managed to avoid him as much as possible for the past three months. Stelly. Funny enough, Sabo had once hoped revealing him his secrets would have brought them nearer. Koala had turned out right: Stelly wasn’t a person they could count on.
Which wouldn’t stop Sabo to try.
He stood still on the door of Stelly’s office, until he realized Sabo wouldn’t leave with a word. So he placed the pen on the desk and lift his face.
“Are you leaving?”
“Yes.”
Stelly nodded. He didn’t ask to come, he already knew something big was about to happen and he definitely wouldn’t like to be there.
“I won’t return,” Sabo said.
Stelly looked surprised. “What do you mean?”
“Well, assuming I won’t be killed, it’ll be safe for me and for this kingdom if I never return.”
“You don’t have to do… whatever you had in mind.” Stelly snored. “You have everything here. You’re the king, dammit!”
“I had,” Sabo replied. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Good, because I don’t.”
Sabo breathed hard. “I spoke with King Salmodovar recently. He told me about your request to go working for him and I know you move some of your fund in his kingdom.”
Stelly shot a look. “We barely speak to each other. I see it’s useless, since you know everything.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Stelly rebutted. “You’re going to screw big time. Even more than the usual. Your maid slash revolutionary friend was pretty clear about that. You said you’ll give me everything if I stay loyal, but it was clearly a lie.”
“No.” Sabo swore internally. He didn’t even know why he should care about Stelly’s opinion. He was an idiot. One of the people Sabo hated. He decided to cut down the conversation. “If you’d like to leave, I’ll speak with king Salmodovar at the Reverie. But if you stay, you can become king.” He noticed the way Stelly grasped the pen. “Don’t tell me you’re not tempted.”
“Of course I’m tempted,” Stelly spat. “But Nentokanette can be queen alone, you made it possible.”
“She can, but she’s not able to. She’ll need someone to help her. She likes you, that much I know. And the people of this kingdom… They’ve managed to meet you at the audience. They trust you.”
“It’s because I’m your step-brother,” Stelly cut it.
“Not only. You were there for them. Maybe you didn’t like it, but you did. If you keep that way, you can be a good king. I hoped so, when you didn’t shoot me that day.”
“I should have done it. The prison would be a safer place now.”
“And I shouldn’t have become king,” Sabo explained. “I tried to leave this place trice. I hope this time will be the last.”
“I won’t miss you.”
“Neither will I.”
And that was their goodbye. When Sabo jumped on the chariot and left the palace, all the bad thoughts drained from him. He spent so much time there, that the people there had become part of his daily life. But neither Nentokanette nor Stelly were people he liked. He tried to bring the good part of them on the surface, but he had his limits. He had other people, other friends. He didn’t care about them anymore.
He left.
“Everything good, your majesty?” asked Pratchett.
Sabo nodded. “Everything excellent.” He smiled. “I’ve told you before, but Reverie will be… a lot messy. You could-”
“And I’ve answered you before I didn’t care,” Pratchett replied. “I’m not loyal to this kingdom, I’m loyal to you, my king. I’ll follow you. Besides,” he added, “I’m sure you’re not going to do things I’ll disapprove.”
“Not sure about it, but thank you.”
He was glad Pratchett was coming with him. Having fighting alone for so long had tiring him out. Maybe sometime you can get up and fight back alone, but you can win better when you have someone to back you up.
He would have liked to bring Lestrade too, but he feared the kingdom could be in danger and it was better someone competent remained to defend it.
Sabo looked outside the window, at the ship that would bring him far. Once he stepped on it, he would stop being the king of Goa. And even if Sabo knew it was for the best, he couldn’t help but feel like a traitor.
***
The feeling of sadness was washed out, or at least hidden in a very back corner of his mind, once the ship sailed. Sabo wandered on the main deck, imagining to be on his pirate ship, ready for adventures. Every island they stopped by was a new place for Sabo. His mind guessed if Ace or Luffy had visited the same place.
For the first time, Sabo started a diary about what he was seeing. He was happy. He didn’t remember what it meant. There had been some happy moment when he was in Goa, but it had come from satisfaction and revenge. The one he felt right now was completely different, pure happiness for being finally where he supposed to: on the sea. A place where he didn’t feel as people will arrive to strike him out.
Once at the Reverie, Sabo knew things would change again, so he needed to take everything before losing it again.
He put on the mask of the king again when they reached Mariejoa, but he couldn’t keep himself by being in some way exciting by the place. Not many pirates had access to it and, he had to admit, the place was awesome.
After the ceremony in front of the empty throne, Sabo moved into the main hall where most of the king and queen were reunited. His attention was immediately caught by king Neptune and his children. Koala had spoken to him a lot about the fishman race, but he was the first time he saw some of them in person.
He chuckled as he watched princess Shirahoshi rejecting all the prince that were introduced to her. The image of Stelly came in him mind and he tried to cancel it. Stelly probably would hate being associate with that race, even if Shirahoshi was hot-looking, at least in the human part.
When Shirahoshi left the main hall, Sabo followed her. King Neptune was busy talking with some of the other sovereign and Sabo wouldn’t bother him with his question about his island. It looked it was Shirahishi’s first time in the surface and Sabo hoped they could exchange some information about the respective kingdom. He hoped to go to fishman island sometime in the future.
He found her in the garden, together with princess Vivi of Alabasta, king Dorton of Sakura Island and some other people he didn’t recognized. Passing all his evening studying the king and queen that would have attend the Reverie hadn’t been a waste. As he got neared, he heard them said the name “Luffy”.
He blinked. “Are you talking about Straw Hat Luffy?” he exclaimed.
They startled, noticing his presence for the first time. “No. Of course no. Why should be talking about a pirate?” princess Vivi answered. He liked her composure.
“Don’t worry,” he said, with a small chuckle. “I know Luffy too. He came from my kingdom.”
Vivi blinked. In that moment, the attention of everyone was on him. “For real?”
Sabo nodded. “Goa kingdom, in the East Blue. Well, he lived in the forest most of the time, so I’m not even sure he knew the name of the place. And I don’t think he cares.”
“So you know Luffy-sama as a child?” Shirahoshi intervened.
“How he was?” another girl – that Sabo recognized as the maid of princess Violet – asked.
“He was a crybaby.”
“Seriously?” Vivi raised an eyebrow, skeptical.
“Oh, yeah.” Sabo smiled, his mind filled by the memory that not even the Celestial Dragon managed to cancel for too long. “Once, he was captured by pirates. They tortured him to force him to reveal the place where him and Ace kept their treasure. He didn’t talk. He took all the hits, but he didn’t say a word.”
“That sounds like Luffy,” Vivi admitted.
“Looks like his hearts had been in the right place since he was a child,” Dorton commented.
Sabo was about to confirm it, when Shirahoshi’s yell rip the air. Everyone’s attention turned to her: a Celestian Dragon had her caught with a net and he claimed her as his property.
Sabo noticed absent-mindedly two men rushed towards her, only to be stopped by the CP0, Vivi’s intervention and king Neptune’s arrival. His eyes were on the Celestial Dragon, on the way he was completely fine into catching a person- a princess – as it was a feral animal. No remorse, no worries. In the same way the Celestial Dragon had shot him back them – as it was nothing.
Without even noticed, he walked towards him. One of the CP0 moved to stopped him.
“Please, your highness, stay back.”
“Move aside,” Sabo ordered.
“Don’t interfere with the Celestial Dragon.”
“Move. Aside,” Sabo repeated. “Or I’ll make you.”
He closed his gloved hand, already covered with haki, but before he could hit the CP0 agent, another Celestial Dragon intervened, smashing his colleagues and freeing Shirahoshi. The surprise caught Sabo off-guard and his fighting trance disappeared. Not the anger he felt, though – one Celestial Dragon didn’t make up for a group of degenerates.
He forced himself to remained there with them, listening to Saint Donquiote and his promise to help the fishermen. He knew if he remained alone, he would have let his anger taking place and probably rushed to break all the Celestial Dragon’s head he could.
But I’ll do. I’ll do it sooner or later.
***
At evening, Vivi had calmed herself enough to tell her father what had happened with Shirahoshi and the Celestial Dragon without having the feeling of punching someone. Giving that it wouldn’t have been a great choice for diplomacy, Cobra was glad everything had resolved itself at the last, even if he shared the same opinion of her about the behavior of the Celestial Dragon.
“King of Goa, eh…?” he commented once Vivi finished her story, saying that she was sure Sabo would have punched someone in her place. He had scary eyes. “I’ve heard of him.”
Vivi frowned. “Gossip?”
“They could be,” Cobra admitted. “New kings are always subject of small talk.”
“And what did they say?”
“He became king after his father killed the previous king and the crowned prince,” Cobra told her. “And then he arrested most of the noble families of the kingdom because they tried to assassinate him. And he condemned his own father to the death penalty.”
“So his father wasn’t the king?”
“No, his wife, Queen Sarie Nentokanette, was the daughter of the king, but in Goa women can’t govern alone.” Vivi snorted, and Cobra nodded, agreeing with her at the absurdity of the law. “And King Sabo didn’t bring her at the Reverie, officially because he didn’t like for his kingdom to be without both of their sovereign.”
“Oh.” There was a shadow of guilt in Vivi’s face, considering both her and Cobra were far away Alabasta, and with the two best guard with them. “And unofficially?”
“Many voices. Some saying he had an affair with his advisor, who came with him.” Cobra shrugged. “Who knows. Surely, in the past there were a lot of suspect about him being the real mastermind behind the death of Goa’s previous king.”
Vivi put a finger on his chin. “As there were a lot of suspect about you being the cause of the rain in our country.”
“Ouch,” Cobra replied, with a smile. It was a good thing they could talk about what happened with Crocodile and their kingdom so casually.
“Sabo didn’t look like a bad person to me,” Vivi said. “He jumped to defend Shirahoshi, just like me. And he knows Luffy. No,” he nodded at herself, “definitely not a bad person.”
Cobra didn’t have an opinion yet. Surely, the gossip he heard and the story Vivi had told him made him interested in knowing the king of Goa a little more. His eyes searched for Sabo when he entered in the room for the Reverie, but his attention was caught by the talks about Luffy. Only when they sat down, he individuated him again, sitting next to King Neptune.
Cobra planned to talk to both of them at the break, not imagining a little what would happen next.
King Beer, as the head of the Reverie, welcomed everyone with the same old discourse, introducing the new kings and queens. “Now, I’ll say we can get started with the first argument.”
“I have something to say first.”
Cobra blinked. As all the other sovereign, his attention was caught by Sabo, who stood up, a hand lifted for attention like a school boy.
“King Sabo, you are new here, so it is understandable you don’t remember well the procedure,” King Beer said gently. “Personal discussion will be held from the third days of Reverie and onward.”
“I’m aware of it,” Sabo nodded. “But this is too much important to wait.” His gaze passed on all the other sovereign, but he didn’t wait for Beer to talk again. He smirked. “Because I’d like to make my declaration of war against the Celestial Dragon.”
Silence fell in the room. Everyone, Cobra included, were to surprise to speak. Cobra looked at him with wide eyes. Was this boy serious?
“Once, in my country, nobles believed poor people are garbage,” Sabo continued. “I told them that they aren’t. And that if you treated a person as a garbage, do not doubt someone else will treat you in the same way.”
As he spoke, Cobra remembered about the gossip he heard. Maybe not all of them were false.
“And the Celestial Dragons treat everyone as garbage. Including you.” Sabo’s gaze passed again on everyone’s face. “Do you think you being king and queen give you some privileges?” He snorted. “One of the Celestial Dragon was about to make Princess Shirahoshi his slave without thinking twice.”
He turned his face to king Neptune, who nodded. “This is true.”
“Can you imagine it?” Sabo said. “A day a Celestial Dragon can just decide he doesn’t like you. No process, no justice, nothing. He decides, he is the law. The only thing you can do is to cover your face with your arm and hope he doesn’t hit you with too much strength. Hope to survive.” His hand moved, touching the scar on his face. “Even if you are a king, you are nothing. I don’t want to live in a world like this anymore.”
He paused, taking a long sigh. “I decided that the real garbage out there is made from the people who had no respect in others, and especially sovereign who only think about themselves. And garbage has to be taken out. Starting from the Celestial Dragon. Who is with-”
His speech was interrupted by three gunshots. Yells exploded as most people get far from the round table of the Reverie. Cobra couldn’t take off his eyes from Sabo, as he noticed the gunshot that passed troughs his chest. Sabo didn’t fall, keeping his hand firmly on the table. It was one of the Celestial Dragon’s guard that had shot him.
“Speaking bad about the Celestial Dragon is a crime worthy of the death penalty,” the guard said, his gun still aimed at Sabo.
Sabo smirked. “I just proved my point, didn’t I?” He regained his composure and, even if there were three bullet hole in his suit, no blood was there. Sabo turned to the guard and, before there was a change for another shoot, fire erupted from Sabo’s hand. The fire hit the guard and sent him against the wall.
Other yells around him, as Cobra watched the sparkles around Sabo’s shoulder. Sabo knew Luffy. Luffy was Fire Fist’s brother. And Fire Fist had had the power of fire. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Enough! I don’t want being associate at any of it! I’m innocent!” Wapol marched towards the door, but he didn’t manage to open it. He pulled in vain. “You! You did something!” he turned, his finger pointed at Sabo.
Sabo smirked. “It’s not time to leave yet. You should listen to him now.”
A wave of wind moved around the room, taking off all the guards that were about to attack Sabo again. Then, in the middle of the table, a cloaked figure appeared and it took only one second to recognize he was the leader of the Revolutionary Army, Monkey D. Dragon.
Then an explosion was heard from outside: Mariejoa was on chaos.
***
Stelly cursed. Against Sabo. More against himself, for hesitating too much in leaving Goa behind before Sabo could destroy everything. Now it was too late; after Sabo’s declaration at the Reverie, Stelly doubted anyone else would hire him. He was Sabo’s step-brother. But maybe, if he traveled far enough, where nobody could recognize him…
While he reflected about his next course of actions, he looked out of the window. He blinked, as he noticed a large group of ships at the horizon. He grabbed field glasses to watch better: marine warships, at least twenty. Stelly trembled. It was the buster call, as Koala anticipated. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
He rushed in the hallway, unsure how to escape, and he bumped into Lestrade.
“Lord Stelly.”
“There is… Outside… Warships…”
“I know,” Lestrade nodded. “Please, come with me.”
They reached the throne room: Stelly’s mother was there, alongside with the chamberlain and the maître, two people Sabo had hired from the commoners. Nentokanette sat on her throne and, by the gaze and her messed hair, Stelly could tell she wasn’t pleased with the outcome. He didn’t blame her.
“So?” she demanded, tapped the point of her shoe on the ground.
“The World Government is attacking the kingdom,” Lestrade announced. “Their warships were at forty-five minutes from harboring. We tried to contact them, but they refused our call. No negotiation is possible now.”
Nentokanette forgot her rage for a second, swallowing. “What now?”
“Before leaving, King Sabo prepared a plan in case of emergency,” Lestrade explained. “We all know how to operate today.”
“So you know!” she accused him.
“No, your majesty. Not exactly.” Lestrade bowed. “I didn’t know King Sabo was planning to declare war at the World Government.” Stelly looked at him, trying to hint any disappointment in his voice. “But I knew that something tragic could have happened. The important thing is that we can operate with a safe plan.”
“You too, mother?” Stelly dared to speak. When had she become so strong?
She nodded, not looking at him. “Yes.” So Nentokanette was the only one who had no idea about it. Well, Stelly wasn’t aware of the emergency plan, but he definitely had some information more about Sabo’s intentions, even if he hadn’t anticipated a war declaration.
“What is it?” Nentokanette asked.
“The royal army will prepare a first line of defense at the harbor and then in the downtown. We will bring the people safe here in the high town; everybody will be ready to flee in the castle if the situation worsened. Until then, though, King Sabo recommended for your Majesty and for Lord Stelly to remain here, safe.”
Nentokanette snorted. “I didn’t need his advice.” Her shoe tapped again on the ground. “Proceed,” she ordered.
Lestrade bowed. He leaved the throne room followed by the other three. Stelly’s mother gave him a small smile, but she didn’t comment further. She had changed too. Nentokanette glared at Stelly.
“So we were the only two left outside Sabo’s great plan.”
“It seems so,” Stelly nodded. “And the only two Sabo decided they should be protected.”
“Don’t you dare to defend him!”
“I don’t,” Stelly replied, offended by the accusation. “I was just describing the situation.” Sabo’s reasons were a mystery, even for him.
She scoffed. “What he did was treason. I can finally divorce from him. He will see, when he’ll come back.” She stood up and trumped towards the royal quarters. Stelly looked at her back, wondered if he should inform her about the fact Sabo’s wouldn’t come back. He decided not to, because that could lend to some inopportune questions.
Right now, Stelly was more focused on getting out from the situation. Alive and, possibly, rich. He returned in his office. From the window, he watched as the army left the royal palace to reach the harbor, and the preparation they were making. Maids and butler and other servants where on the street, calling from house to house. When the people started fleeing towards the door of the high town’s wall, he checked the warships with the field glasses. They were nearer. And scarier.
He had to get out of it. Soon. His mind returned at the hidden chamber Sabo had used for his trained. It was a chamber made for hiding, closed from the inside. And made to resist even if the castle fell. He could hide inside, getting out only when the danger was passed. Even if the kingdom would be destroyed, some of his money were safe in another island.
He would survive.
As he left the office to reach the pantry, because there were no supplies in the hidden room, he reflected if he should bring Nentokanette with him. The World Government considered her Sabo’s wife, thus an enemy. They could take her hostage, or simply kill her. Her royal status wouldn’t protect her and she had tried to used Stelly once. Still, he liked her in some way, and his noble blood told him to not let a member of the royal family die.
He didn’t have the time to decide. As soon as he took the hallway towards the pantry, he noticed a movement. He blinked and stopped: the royal palace should be empty, since all the servants were outside, following Sabo’s emergency plan. He stood still, fearing the World Government had send spies inside.
“Look we have here.”
It was worse.
“L-Lord Fersen…?”
The only answered he received was a cruel smirk. The prison changed Fersen, making him thinner than he already was, and his face looked as a skull, but he was him without any doubts, and there was his son with him too. Stelly shivered.
“How did you get out?”
“Not all people worship that traitor of his own blood.” And Fersen raised the gun.
Stelly turned his back and run. He heard the gunshot behind him. He gritted his teeth, forcing his weak legs to move. Even if he felt Fersen wasn’t followed him, he didn’t slow, not until he reached Nentokanette’s room. He panted, recollecting his breath. She was on her balcony, looking at the city outside, and her eyes became bigger when she noticed him.
“What now?” she snarled.
“We need to escape. Now.”
“What? Why?”
No time for explanation. Stelly grabbed her for the wrist and dragged her out of the room. If they could reach the hidden room, they could be safe. They wouldn’t have food or water, but they only had to wait until Lestrade… Stelly trembled, but he didn’t stop running, even if Nentokanette had problems following him with her heels.
Lestrade could be killed by the warships. All the people could. And the Fersen could claimed the kingdom as his own, given he was arrested by Sabo. Which meant Nentokanette would be doomed, and Stelly with her. He shook his head. For now, all he should focused was escaping from the gunshot. Surviving another hour.
He climbed down the stairs that led from the royal quarters to the offices but, when he hoped to be safe, he saw them: Lord Byron and another group of nobles that had been arrested with him. All of them had gun in their hands.
Nentokantte hold her breath. Stelly turned around, but from the stairs Lord Fersen and his son were arriving, blocking their only escape route. They were trapped. Stelly wondered if the best course of action was to take Nentokanette as hostage before they could do, but he rejected the idea soon enough. They wanted kill him because of his betrayal, and Nentokanette wasn’t a shield enough for him not to be shot down.
Now he regretted not having shot Sabo when he had got the change. Maybe he could have been in prison now, safe from the angry nobles and the World Government.
Byron smirked: he got thinner too and his jacked was too big for him, but that didn’t make him less scary. His gun was raised, aiming at Stelly, who was still in front of Nentokanette. He was too scared to move, or even talked.
Nentokanette took a step forwards, putting herself between him and Byron. “I hope your intention isn’t to hit a member of the royal family, your grace,” she murmured, gently. Stelly didn’t expect her to be that cold, especially because he still had her wrist in his hand and he noticed the sweat and the slight treble of her arms. But she stood up, and fight.
“You lost the right to be called one of us when you lined up with your husband, your majesty,” Byron spat, the gun still pointed in front of him. God, Stelly thought, we’re dead.
“You don’t dare. You won’t… dare…” she exhaled.
Byron smirked. “The World Government will thank me.”
“You all never learn from your mistakes, do you?”
Everyone freeze. Nentokanette released a yelp and Stelly, unwilling, relaxed. Byron and the nobles turned around: just behind them stood Sabo, a metal pipe rested on his shoulders and an eat-shit grin on his face. He didn’t dress like a king anymore, Stelly noticed. That were the clothes Sabo used as a child.
“You!” Byron roared. With any warned, he shot, three bullet that passed troughs Sabo’s chest.
Nentokanette yelled and Stelly paled, before noticed the flames around the bullet hole on Sabo’s shirt. Sabo hadn’t even flinched. He stood there, smiling.
“You can’t kill me.” And in a flash he was in front of Byron and hit him with a punch in his face, smashing him against the wall.
“Father!” Byron Jr screamed, as he rushed to assist him.
“Anyone else?” Sabo commented, looking around. The nobles were watching him, eyes wide.
“M-Monster…” one of them murmured.
Sabo chuckled. “Oh, you can’t imagine.”
“You may, but what about them?” Fersen said, gun aimed at Stelly and Nentokanette.
Sabo didn’t turn, he lifted his arm and snapped his fingers. Fersen’s gun exploded in his hand and he fell on the ground, screaming for the flames that were attacking him. His son abandoned the gun and took off the jacket to erase the fire. Sabo glared at the others: one of another, they left their guns on the ground and knelled down.
Only then, Stelly released a sigh. He was sure he was about to die. Sabo placed his pipe on his back, but before he could open his mouth, Nentokanette threw herself at him, punching his chest with both hands. He let her venting, as she cursed him and cried.
“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t have come back?” Stelly asked.
Sabo smiled. “I should have been more specific. I won’t come back here as a king.”
“What… What do you mean?” Nentokanette stopped punching him and he looked at him with puppy eyes.
“Let’s go save the kingdom first.” Sabo lifted her in his arms and moved towards his office, ignoring the nobles around him. Stelly wasn’t called, but for no reason he would remain alone in the palace with the others: they could fear Sabo, but Stelly wasn’t sure how they would behavior once he was out.
“Wait, wait… let me… are you going let them here like that?”
Sabo entered in his office and opened the secret door for the hidden chamber. “Right now, we have more important matter than them. Lestrade will take care of them later.”
Turned out the hidden chamber had another hidden door, connected to a tunnel. “I didn’t know this place,” Nentokanette commented.
“I found out exploring the palace,” Sabo explained. “I guessed it is a secret only your father was informed of.”
“Where it ends?”
“The harbor.”
Stelly frowned. “Are you going to take down all the warships by yourself?”
Sabo chuckled. “I’m not that strong.” Then he added, “but I know someone who it is.”
After that, nobody else spoke until they reached the end of the tunnel. Stelly would like to ask about the entire ‘declaring war to the Celestial Dragon’ accident and he wondered how Nentokanette would act once the imminent treat of the World Government would be resolved, but he didn’t comment further. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea there were people stronger than Sabo out there.
As soon as they left the tunnel, Stelly saw the barricades Lestrade and the army had erected just at the end of the harbor, in front of the main street of Goa. The harbor so empty and silencing was a little scared. Sabo let flames erupting from his hands and a wall of fire was made to divide the harbor from the barricades.
“For now, it’s better only you see this,” Sabo explained, as he let Nentokanette down.
She adjusted her dress and her hair. “What do you mean?”
Sabo’s attention turned on the sea, and the other two followed him. The warships were near and threatened, but not near enough to start bombing the island. Then, sea kings came out the surface. They were gigantic, at least ten time bigger than one warship. Stelly had been unlucky enough to meet one of the sea monster before and he could tell the ones he was seeing were something else.
The screams of the marines could be heard from the harbor, as they bombing the sea kings. They reacted as nothing was threw at them. And then, they attacked. Their fangs pierced the ships, their tails encircled the masts. The warships were split in half and destroyed as they were toys.
Stelly’s eyes were fixed on that macabre show that he startled when Nentokanette, next to him, screamed. He took a step aside, scared a monster would attack him too, and paled as he saw what had scared her: a giant hand grabbing the dock. The hand was followed by a head and a chest, as a giant girl surfaced from the sea.
“Ah, Mister Sabo!” she exclaimed, with a childish voice. “Did I make in time?”
“Yes.” Sabo nodded. “Thanks to you, the kingdom is saved.”
“I’m glad.”
Sabo turned to Stelly and Nentokanette, who were remained froze in there, watching her with wide eyes and open mouths. “This is Princess Shirahoshi,” he introduced her.
“Is… Is she a giant?” Nentokanette asked, not turning her gaze from Shirahoshi.
“No, she’s just pretty big. She’s a mermaid.”
“A… A mermaid?” Nentokanette paled. Shirahoshi pointed out at the fish tail she let surfaced, before hiding it again. “I understand your surprise. I have a lot of thing to learn about the human world too,” she commented with a smile.
Sabo turned his head. “Princess, these are the Queen of Goa, Sarie Nentokanette, and my brother Stelly.”
“Nice to meet you,” Shirahoshi exclaimed happy. She leaned her hand towards Nentokanette, fist closed but the little finger. Careful, Nentokanette placed her hand on it, to retreat it a second later. Then Shirahoshi moved her hand to Stelly, who touched her in the same way.
“Princess Shirahoshi came from Fishmen Island, one of the kingdom that lined with us against the World Government,” Sabo explained. “As long as you have her protection, the kingdom will be safe.”
“She… can control those things?” Stelly commented, nodded at the sea kings.
Shirahoshi shrugged. “They listen when I speak with them.”
“There are other kingdoms that agree with you?” Nentokanette asked. She had regained a little of her composure even if, Stelly noted, she kept rubbing the hand that touched Shirahoshi against her dress. “You… You declared war against the World Government. Against the Celestial Dragon! Against the god of our world!”
“I wonder if they will give me the title of god slaughter.” Sabo crossed his arms. “It’s a cool nickname.”
“Be serious!”
Sabo nodded. “Other kings and queens agreed with me because the Celestial Dragons aren’t god, are just asshole that considered everyone else garbage. They’re just tired of having them and their degenerations around. We’re going to build up a new world government, one where everyone was equal to each other. Fishmen included,” he added, pointed out at Shirahoshi. “You will still be queen, Nentokanette, if it is what you’re scared off. We don’t plan to dethrone reigns.”
“You don’t?” Stelly snorted.
“Only the ones that aren’t good.”
“And of course you’re the one that can decide that.”
“Objectively speaking, I can define a bad king one that burned down his own people instead of helping them having a better life,” Sabo retorted and Nentokanette stiffed. The reference at his father was pretty clear. “And also a bad king one that shot people only because he can.” His hands touched his scar. “I don’t expect you to understand. In your opinion being king means living in a nice palace and being rich.”
Stelly gritted his teeth. “This isn’t true.”
“It isn’t?”
“Sabo,” Nentokanette called. “What will happen now?” She had a serious tone.
“We’re at war,” Sabo explained. “Us, the kingdom that joined the revolutionary army after the reverie, against them, the world government and the Celestial Dragon.”
“And you have a chance of winning?”
“A lot of chance, actually.”
“What about us? What about the kingdom of Goa?”
“Two choices: be our allies or return under the world government. As I said, until you are with us, Princess Shirahoshi can guarantee you protection. For the world government…” He shrugged. “You can ask them.”
“It sounds like blackmail,” Stelly commented.
“It’s only the truth, and it is logical,” Sabo replied. “There’s a lot of islands out there that need our help. If you prefer the world government to us, then let them protect you.”
“But you already decided,” Stelly retorted.
“I don’t. Nentokanette is the queen, that’s her choice.”
“And you’re the king,” Nentokanette pointed out.
“I’m not. Not anymore, at least,” he announced. “I’ll be out there, fighting. And when the war will be over… I won’t return here. I’ll be on the sea, as I’d like to.”
“You will be with her.”
Stelly understood immediately she was referring to Koala, but Sabo didn’t. He blinked. “Princess Shirahoshi? Well, she’s helping us and-”
“I should divorce,” Nentokanette cut him. “You leaving the kingdom should be treason enough.”
“You should,” he confirmed.
At that, Nentokanette threw at him and grabbed his shirt with her long nails. “You don’t care about me a little bit, do you?” she spat. “About us.” Her eyes were full of tears.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I courted you because that had been my father’s wish. Then I married you because the Revolutionary Army asked me to. You should have known from the beginning that marriage into the royal family are just business.”
“You were different.” Nentokanette hid her head against his chest. “I thought you were.”
“Divorce from me, Nentokanette,” he said. “You’re young, and you can be queen alone now. Forget about me and move on. You’ll be happier now that you won’t have me around.”
“I love you.” Sabo swallowed, but he didn’t answer. Nentokanette’s tone became cold. “I will divorce, but I won’t forget. Set foot in this kingdom again, I’ll punish you with the death penalty.” He pushed him and Sabo let her, taking two step behind.
She crossed her arms. “Princess… Shirahoshi, right?” she said. “I hereby ask to protect my kingdom from now on. I’ll be with you in all this…” she waved her hand, “fight.”
“I will,” Shirahoshi smiled. “You can count on me!”
“I appreciated it, princess. I’d like to invite you and the king of your country at my palace when all this story will end.”
“That will be great!”
“Now, if you excuse me, I need to speak with my people about it.” She turned on her heels and she moved towards the fire wall at the end of the harbor.
Shirahoshi bent down Sabo. “You were pretty cruel to her.”
“I was,” he nodded. “But she’d been suffered enough because of me. The sooner she moves on, the better for her.”
Stelly noticed his hand were shaking a little. “You feel nothing at all for her?”
“I came back in time to save her,” was Sabo’s only response.
“They finished,” Shirahoshi intervened. She was referring to the sea kings, because nothing was remained of the giant fleet. “I’ll be back in a minute. I’m going to called them back and pray at the sea for the death.”
As she disappeared below the surface, Stelly commented, “This was the first time.”
“Seeing a mermaid?”
“Having you call me your brother.”
“Oh.” Sabo was surprised, before bending his lips into a smirk. “Are you becoming sentimental about our brotherly love?”
“Not at all,” Stelly spat. He already regretted having pointed it out.
“I hadn’t liked you in the ten years we spent together at father’s house, and I certainly don’t like you now,” Sabo said. “I’m pretty sure you feel the same.”
“That’s for sure.”
“But, in some way, I can say I respect you. And you will be better without me too,” he continued. “Just, don’t give me a reason to come back and kick your ass.”
Stelly snorted, but he didn’t add anything. He understood Sabo was referring about him being good with the people of the kingdom. That was a lesson he had learned and not a difficult task, not until he could continue having the privilege of a member of the royal palace. Even if… he wasn’t sure Nentokanette would keep him. Maybe he would remember Sabo to her.
“Sabo!” Nentokanette called. “Take off this fire! I need to speak with my royal army!” she ordered. “And, Stelly, stop talking with him and come here helping me.”
Oh, well. That was his answered. Sabo grinned as he expected it to happened. Shirahoshi resurfaced with a sad smile on her face. “So many death…” she whispered.
“We can go, now, princess,” Sabo said. She leaned her arm and Sabo used it to jump on her shoulder. He moved his hand and the fire decreased.
“I’ll be a better husband, if Nentokanette let me,” Stelly said. “And a better king.”
“I surely hope so,” Sabo nodded. “Take care of you.”
And then Shirahoshi disappeared again below the sea, bringing Sabo with her.
“Don’t die,” Stelly murmured, before turning and moved towards Nentokanette.
***
Nentokanette had become stronger, stronger than Sabo thought. Sabo knew he would have hurt them, her especially. He hoped that, once she cured her wounds, she would be fine. But she was already fine, she didn’t hide her face and she was ready to fight. And she wasn’t alone, because Stelly was with her. Sabo didn’t like being the bad guy, the man behind the strikes. He was glad they could fight back now.
“Was it hard?” Shirahoshi asked.
“What?” Inside his bubble, Sabo was distracted by his own thoughts.
“Leaving your kingdom behind,” she explained.
Sabo smiled. He understood she was referring to her own kingdom, the kingdom she would like to leave for bringing her people to live on the surface. “Not at all,” he answered. “It was my wish since the beginning. It’s just a little be strange because it’s finally happening. But I’m happy and relieved. I can’t explain, but it’s the best feeling in the world.”
“I see.”
“You’ll feeling like this too, once we’ll bring your kingdom out of there. You’ll be happy.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
They remained silent until they reached the ship of the Revolutionary Army. He jumped on the railway while she remained on the water.
“I have to return home,” she explained. “Check the situation with my father and my brothers.”
“Of course. See you soon and thank you, princess Shirahoshi.”
She waved at him and disappeared below the dark sea. Sabo turned to noticed that a lot of people from the Revolutionary Army were there to greet him: there was Belo Betty, Karasu finally in his human form, and Koala too, to which Sabo reserved the longest look. Sabo smiled, as he looked at Dragon.
Now, Sabo wouldn’t stop fighting. The only difference would be that he wouldn’t fight alone, and he wouldn’t fight for himself. There were people out there in the same situation Sabo was: alone, just waiting for the next strike, only their arms for protection. Sabo would help them, as the Revolutionary, Pratchett and the other did with him.
“Welcome back,” Dragon said.
Sabo inhaled. He was happy, he was free, he was home.
And ready to fight for the people that deserved it.
Epilogo
Nami’s yell brought the entire crew to the main deck. They were heading towards Wa to fight a pirate emperor after destroying the kingdom of another pirate emperor and, well, what she was reading on the newspaper was too much.
Sanji was the first to reach her. “What happened, Nami-san? Are you hurt? Someone hurt you?”
She waved her hand at the newspaper. Brook grabbed it and read the first page. “Whaaaat!” he exclaimed, startling both Carrot and Chopper. Luffy covered his ears, annoyed.
“Would you stop it?” Sanji protested.
Nami sighed to calm herself. “It is the Reverie.”
“What is it?” Chopper asked.
“A reunion of all the kings and queens of the world government,” Brook explained. “The Revolutionary Army attacked the Reverie and a lot of kingdoms decided to side with it.”
“Whaaat?” It was Sanji’s time to be surprised, as he stole the newspaper from Brook’s hand.
“Your father is really someone’s else, yohoho,” Brook said.
“Your father?” Carrot repeated.
“Luffy’s father is the leader of the revolution,” Chopper revealed to her.
Luffy clapped his hands. “If it is a king’s reunion, it means Vivi was there?”
Nami nodded. “Yes, along with his father. And also where there Dorton and Shirahoshi.”
“If my father hurt them, I’ll kick his ass,” Luffy affirmed.
“Good thing they were between the kingdom that joined the revolution,” Nami commented, tired.
“Oh. Fine, then.”
“Violet-chan was there too,” Sanji commented, as he read. “I hoped all of the beautiful girls out there are alright.”
“Yeah, well, for now. Who knows what will happen next?” Nami asked to herself.
Brook read the article below Sanji’s head. “It said the king of Goa was the only one to announce war at the Reverie. The others just followed ahead.”
“Goa?” Luffy blinked.
“It says something to you?”
“It’s the place I came from,” Luffy explained. “Oh, even if I never lived in the big city…”
“I wonder if I should be surprised…” Nami commented.
“King Sabo from Goa Kingdom…” Sanji read. “Of course the king of Luffy’s birthplace had to be as crazy as him.”
“Sabo? Sabo is the king?”
“That’s what I said, why?”
Sanji never received an answered. Luffy only laughed, a very big, happy laugh that echoed in all the ship. -
.
Capitolo 5
Lestrade’s face was dark as he entered in the office, so Sabo suspected he didn’t bring good news.
As his life wasn’t miserable enough, with Nentokanette that refused to leave her room to fulfill her duty, with Lady Chambord and Lord Richey that quarreled about the smallest things just to put Sabo and Pratchett in difficult positions and with the Revolutionary Army that hadn’t answered him yet. Besides Sabo’d been at the funeral of the two sailors and his mood wasn’t the best.
But it was not the time anymore to hid and wait for the hits to pass. He’d stood up and he put on stand, so he had to fight back, whatever they brought to him. As he looked at Lestrade, he was ready.
“I apologize, your royal highness,” Lestrade bowed. “I have news about the bombing.” His eyes shifted to Pratchett, a silent request for Sabo to remain alone.
“Pratchett can stay,” Sabo assured him. “Right now, you two are my only allies.”
Pratchett smiled and nodded enthusiastically, while Lestrade sighed deeply. “I didn’t mean…” he began, but then stopped. “I know who the culprit is.”
Sabo’s eyes widened. “You’re great,” he commented sincerely. He hadn’t had many hopes about it, even if he felt that punishing the culprit would bring some peace to the victims and their family. “Who is he? How do you find it?”
“I contacted the marines,” Lestrade explained. “I remembered a news about a bomb expert that was helping the government before they found out he sold his inventions to pirates too. He became a wanted man and he was spotted in the East Blue a couple of weeks ago.”
“Did the marines have news?”
“They were about to catch him, but he escaped,” Lestrade answered. “Even so, the marines managed to take a hold about an exchange of money. A payment for a job he did.”
“I guess the job was our bombing?”
Lestrade nodded. “I questioned the sailors that were loaning the luggage on the sunk ship and a couple of them remembered him around, but since he was with the other servants, they weren’t suspicious. He knew how to act and how the king and the prince had their luggage brought by.”
“We already suspected the culprit was someone used to the royal habits, since he knew also that the king and the prince spend all their time onboard in their cabin, even for the meal.”
“Correct. So I followed the money to find who gave them to the bomb expert.” At this point, he stopped and looked uncertain.
“Who he was?” Sabo pressed.
When Lestrade spoke, it felt it would have been easier for him to have all his teeth extracted from him without anesthesia. “Your father, your royal highness. Lord Outlook III.”
Pratched gasped and let the pencil fell from his hands. Sabo remained speechless, uncertain how to react at the news. His mind raced fast, switching from the shame for his father to the consequences it could bring to him, from the many times his father had hit him to the way to return this particular one.
“I should have expected this,” he said, at last. “Is this confirmed without any doubts?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Lestrade’s face darkened. “My men chatted with discretion with the servant of the manor and they confirmed having seen the bomb expert. Also, Lord Outlook ordered his son – Lord Stelly – to remain home that day, faking an illness.”
“But Stelly was there,” Sabo pointed out.
“I’m aware, still he didn’t get on board for a missing paper, which is suspicious at least.”
“Definitely,” Sabo agreed reluctantly. “And about my mother?”
“She’s innocent, as far as I know. Servants commented she was surprise by her husband’s request about Lord Stelly and no explanation was given to her.”
“Sounds plausible. She never got involved in my father’s affair.”
Sabo took a long sigh, he closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the chair. He was angry, most at himself for not having seen that strike coming. He didn’t ask to become king; as usual, his father’d decided for him. He wasn’t able to avoid his father’s hits as he should have known they would have coming.
He regretted not having thought better the last time he’d spoke with his father: the Grey Terminal Project had been a success and Sabo was too overwhelmed by that, too confident. He should have kept his father quiet, relaxed him as he would have keep working on his objective. Now it was too late: he had to face the consequences of his actions, whatever they could be.
More than usual, he needed Dragon’s advice. But he hadn’t answered his plead yet.
“I have a suggestion,” Lestrade broke the silence. “Except for us, nobody but my men know about it. And they won’t talk, your royal highness, because they’re loyal to you as I am.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Sabo murmured. He’d opened his eyes again, fixing them on Lestrade’s face.
“We can reveal the result of our investigation later… After the coronation ceremony.”
“Or never.” Pratchett’s suggestion was just a whisper, but his gaze was steady.
Sabo reflected, his eyes longing in the far. They could. They could keep quiet. Sabo could be a good king, maybe. Keeping on with his project to make the life of the poor better. To destroy the rules of nobility.
On the other hand, his father would get a pass free.
After all he’d done, he didn’t deserve it. Especially, he didn’t deserve grace from Sabo. His father’d put him in that situation twice: first making him a king, then risking to destroy everything, because there was no doubt in Sabo’s mind that a lot of people would use his father’s guilt to take him down.
“Thank you, but no,” Sabo said at last. “The families of the victims deserve justice.”
“I beg at least to wait until the coronation ceremony,” Lestrade pleaded.
“I won’t see my father there,” Sano replied, harsher than he should be. “Arrest him right now, he and my step-brother.”
Lestrade was about to tell something, but in the end nodded. “As you order, your royal highness. What about your mother?”
Sabo turned to Pratchett. “Go with Lestrade. Confiscate all the bank account. Make a list of all my father’s property and put them up for auction. All the earning will be devolved to the victims’ families as refund.”
“As you ordered, your royal highness.” Pratchett didn’t look so happy to oblige.
Sabo talked again to Lestrade. “I heard the nursery school at the Grey Terminal needs help. My mother won’t have a house anymore after this, so she can stay there. I’m pretty sure the headmaster will be happy to give her board and lodging in exchange of a hand at work.”
Lestrade’s gaze remained on Sabo for a long second, before bowing. Sabo was glad he didn’t comment further. Only when he and Pratchett were out of the room, Sabo groaned and leaned on the desk.
***
There was a victorious note in Lord Richey’s tone as he announced, “Hey royal highness Princess Nentokanette requests your presence in the throne hall.”
Sabo exchanged a look with Pratchett, noticing the same doubts he had. Nentokanette hadn’t left her room after the accident and now she used the Chamberlain to speak to her husband. Something was going on and, Sabo guessed, there would be trouble for him.
“Fine,” he commented. He nodded at Pratchett to accompany him and both of them follow Lord Richey. They reached the throne hall from a secondary door, the one reserved for the royal servant, but not the one the king and the queen used.
As Sabo suspected, all the paterfamilias of the most important royal families of Goa were gathered together there, with Lord Byron and Lord Fersen in front. Nentonakette sat on the throne, something that didn’t respect the etiquette since she wasn’t the queen yet. Still, Lord Richey acted as it wasn’t something out of the ordinary and moved to take his spot next to the throne, alongside Lady Chambord and Lord Muzesky.
Sabo shrugged as Nentokanette tried hard not to look at him and he directed his look to the audience. He didn’t move to the throne, he just crossed his arms and smirked. They were the one to summon him: he wouldn’t be the one to speak first.
And he was at ease, while the silence became almost unbearable. Sabo restrained himself to laugh at the stressed look on Lord Byron’s face, as he realized he couldn’t speak without the authorization of a member of the royal family and, right now, Nentokanette was trembling.
At least, she swallowed hard. “The most noble men of this country requested a private meeting with our royal highness about an important matter that I felt it needs to be discusses. Please.”
Those words drained her, so she sighed relieved when Lord Fersen stepped forward. “Thank you, your royal highness.” He didn’t move to look at Sabo as he spoke, “We are deeply concerned about the future of our kingdom. Is the son of the man that killed the previous king really suitable to be our next king?”
It was clear all the nobles expected Sabo to argue, because they started looking at each other when Sabo remained still, only tilting his head a little. Even Lord Fersen licked his lips, unable to continuing his speech.
“In other words, we don’t want the son of a murderer as a king. We should discuss a way for Princess Nentokanette to divorce and chose a better candidate for the throne,” Lord Byron intervened.
Sabo’s smirk grew bigger.
For the Goa’s law, members of the royal family could divorce only for two reasons: treason or infertility. They hadn’t any evidences Sabo was involved in his father’s murder plan, because Lestrade had carried out a fair investigation, and even if Sabo hadn’t a son yet, they couldn’t be sure Sabo was sterile. It was a poorly attempt to force Sabo to resign voluntarily.
“You have nothing to say?” Nentokanette snapped, looking at him for the first time.
“No,” Sabo replied.
She bit her lips, her nails pressed to the wooden arm of the throne. “You… You…” Her face was red. “Your father killed mine and you act as everything is okay! You don’t even tell me about that!”
“I didn’t because you refused to talk to me,” Sabo said. He hadn’t move from his position and his tone was calm.
Nentonakette was about to reply, but Sabo’s look made her to give up: they both know he was right since she’d even closed the door that connected their two rooms.
“But I never hide what my father did. I made him arrested in plain sight, and that’s the reason why Lady Chambord could tell you about it.” Said lady stiffened, turning away his gaze. “And the reason why all you could come here today with this information,” he finished, looking at the group of the nobles.
“My father and my brother were killed because of you and you aren’t even a little bit guilty about it!” Nentokanette rushed to him and slammed her fist against Sabo’s chest. “I hate you! I hate you!”
“Her royal highness…” Pratchett murmured, but Sabo lift a hand to stop him.
“You’re done?” he said to Nentokanette, as he saw her bowed her head and cried, her first still pressed to his chest.
Lord Byron took advantage of the moment of silence. “I think we all here should respect the will of her royal highness as she expressed it right now. She’s the only person with the royal blood here.” And the other around him agreed.
Sabo smirked at him. “I decided to let a month pass between the funeral of the previous king and the coronation ceremony, so we could use these seven days only for mourning and the next thirty days to discuss about the future. But you don’t even wait: your greed is showing.”
Lord Byron startled at the accusation. “I’m just worried about the future of my kingdom…” he blabbered, embarrassed.
“Which is the reason why you broke the engagement of your son just after my father had been arrested,” Sabo replied. “He had to be available for the princess, otherwise Lord Fersen’s son will have an advantage.”
Lord Fersen turned his eyes to Lord Byron, eyes widened. He didn’t know about the break up, at least so it seemed by the look on his face, a mixed of surprise and disappointment.
Sabo had still something to say. He was going to strike back, and he knew for sure that Nentokanette never learn how to cover her face to avoid major pain. Sabo wasn’t sorry for her.
“Lucky for you, Nentokanette,” Sabo said. He gave her a small pat on the shoulder. “You’ll spent the days after the funeral of your father and brother with people fighting for your hands, treating you as the puppet you are.”
She lifted her head, looking at him with big teary eyes. “I’m not a puppet! I am the royal princess!” she yelled, as she stepped far from him
“You’re not?” Sabo replied. “I wonder if they told you all the truth. Like what your brother said to my father at one of their reunions.” He turned to the group of nobles. “Keep your son on the line or I’ll take care of him once and for all. Am I quoting correct?” And he enjoyed the shocked look on their faces.
“What? He... It’s true?” Nentokanette sputtered. Fersen didn’t answer, but his eyes moved from her.
Sabo shrugged, then spoke, “The funeral will take place in two days. After that, I will present the analysis that testified I’m sterile, so Nentokanette can divorce from me.”
A glimpse of victory emerged from all the nobles’ eyes, even if the just nodded, faking humility. Nentokanette gasped. Lord Byron was the only one that still looked at Sabo with suspect, but after Sabo exposed the situation of his son, he couldn’t press for a faster resolution.
“We thank your grace for understanding out doubts and sacrifice yourselves for the sake of this kingdom,” he said, with a bow with show anything but respect. “We have another request: none of us would risk you to manage to kill her royal highness before the divorce.”
It was preposterous for Byron to say that, and Nentokanette herself blinked at Sabo as the possibilities occurred to her only in that moment.
“I agree,” Sabo nodded. “Please, Lord Richey, arrange for Lestrade some surveillance around the princess. I’ll stay in my room until the funeral ceremony. Starting from now,” he added, as a smirk appeared on his face. “Nentokanette will take care of my duty. If she’s able to, which I doubt. Now, if you excuse me.”
He left the room without any other words, without waiting for another accusation. He had the outrages look of Nentokanette in mind. Well, she deserved it. She’s one of them after all. One of his enemies.
Pratchett had followed him, but only when they reach the royal wing of the palace, he spoke, “you can’t do that, your highness! You can’t let them win!” Since Sabo didn’t comment, he continued, “What will happen to the normal people without you? What will happen to the Grey Terminal? What will happen to me?”
Pratchett stopped: on his face there was some shame, but Sabo knew he wasn’t a selfish question. After all, none of the other nobles would ever give a chance for a not noble to ascend at higher position. Only Sabo used meritocracy.
“I wasn’t supposed to become king. I don’t even want it,” Sabo explained. “I was here only to try and make thing better while other people takes the high stand. That’s the reason I didn’t bother to flatter the nobility and now I have no allies among them.”
“You have me and Lestrade, you said so yourselves.”
“And I’m grateful for it,” Sabo confirmed. “You won’t enough to defeat them though.” He smiled. “Do you know what create a king?”
Pratchett blinked. “The blood?”
“The people,” Sabo corrected him. “You can’t be a king if you don’t have people you reign over.” Pratchett’s eyes bulged in understanding. “I’m taking a dangerous bet, but maybe I did something good for this kingdom.”
“You did! You did…”
Sabo smiled again. “Let’s hope so.”
Pratchett didn’t add anything, so Sabo opened the door of his room and locked himself inside. He shot a glance at the window, hoping to see the familiar figure of the crow, but nothing was there. With a sigh, he fell down on his bed.
***
It took a lot of effort to Nentokanette to look at Sabo not even once during the funeral ceremony. In some way, Sabo almost admired her, giving they had left the royal palace together, they’d stayed in the same carriage and they’d sat together in the church during the funeral.
When it ended, Nentokanette released a sigh. Tears dropped from her eyes, but she looked more at peace now. She turned as Sabo offered her his arms, then she remembered she was angry at him and avoided him reaching for the chariot alone. Sabo shrugged: there was more important matter for him at the moment.
He’d noticed there was three important absences at the funeral: the families of the other victims of the shipwrecked. However, their head was present when Byron and Fersen had asked Sabo to resign. Not being there was just to protest Sabo was. So despite all efforts Sabo’d made to make amend for the victims, he understood he couldn’t count on nobles.
He sighed, as he shot a glare to the carriage in front of his. It transported the empty coffins of the previous king and prince Louigis: he couldn’t stand them, but he regretted their death. He never asked to strike back so badly, only enough to defend himself. But again, that wasn’t his choice: the strike came from the same person that had hurt him in the past.
Behind his carriage, the others nobles’ followed. Sabo knew they’re watching him close, fearing he would use this occasion to kill Nentokanette.
So their panic was understandable when the townspeople, who were paying their regards to the coffins, since they weren’t admitted to the funeral, became too close to the carriages, until it was impossible to keep going.
“Lestrade!” Nentokanette called. He was supposed to surveil the area and keep people away but, Sabo noticed, the royal guards were at the corner of the streets, checking the situation but not stopping the people in any way.
“Hold it,” Sabo ordered at the driver, who ordered at the horse to stop.
“What are you doing?”
Sabo ignored Nentokanette and jumped outside the carriage, in the middle of the townspeople. In that moment, all the buzz ended. Sabo remained still in front of the two women who were the sister and the wife of the two sailors that lost their lives in the bombing. He’d recognized them, since he saw them both at their home and at the funerals of the two sailors. He bowed slightly to them.
“You came to the funeral,” she said one of them, at last.
“Yes.”
“Your father was the cause of the death of my brother,” the other one said.
“Yes.” Sabo felt a sting in his heart: he also had lost a brother, in the cruelest way, and he felt angry with the entire world about it. “I can’t ask for your forgiveness, because I understand how you feel and that you want justice. From my part, I can assure my father will pay for it as you’d like to.”
Inside him, he cursed his father. He wouldn’t be surprise if most of the people would think his father’d obeyed his order, so he could become king. Most people would think he was the real culprit behind everything and that he would let his father being punished instead of him. Once again, he was marked and ruined by his father’s actions.
Since the two women didn’t add anything, he turned and returned back to the carriage. The crowd was still there, blocking the way for the carriages. Nentokanette’s irritably increased, so Sabo was about to call for Lestrade, when an applause erupted, filling the street.
“Long life to the king. Long life to King Sabo!” the crowd enchanted.
Relief grabbed Sabo’s stomach and he swallowed to keep the anxiety of the past days inside him. His eyes burned, but he still managed to stand up and bowed to the crown, which finally step aside to let the carriages move. They followed the parade until the cemetery, when they remained silence to respect for the dead, and then they started again with their choirs until they reached the royal palace, so Sabo spent his time still waving and bowing at them.
In Sabo’s mind, the image was clearly: from his hideout, he stood up. No one was going to hit him, because he had the entire kingdom in his back. They’re outnumbered and they run away. He’d felt the same with the Revolutionary Army but this was different. This wasn’t him fighting back, this was him not needing it anymore.
Nentokanette’s anger was clear visible, but she waited for them to reach the royal palace ballroom to explode.
“You knew it! You did it in purpose to humiliate me!”
“Definitely not for that reason,” Sabo replied gently.
She glared at him, fury in her eyes. She trumped to one of the table that the maids were setting for the buffet and grabbed one of the plates. She threw it at Sabo, that avoided it easily, which made Nentokanette even more angry. She managed to throw a couple of plates more before Sabo’s reached her and grabbed both of her wrists.
“Let me go!” she struggled.
“Even if you’re angry at me, it’s not right to ruin the work of the people that spent their time setting up the banquet,” he commented. The maids, who’d hurried to clean the floor, stopped to look at the royal couple. “Apologize.”
“That’s not necessary,” lady Chambord intervened, but Sabo cut her down.
“Stay out of it!”
She startled, but she had no courage to continue.
“I’m the princess!” Nentokanette screamed. She couldn’t break free from Sabo’s grip.
“Then start acting like one,” Sabo replied. He wasn’t angry, but his eyes were determined as he watched her closer. Slowly, she stopped struggling. A “sorry” escaped from her lips. She bowed her head and, as soon as Sabo released her, she run away from the ballroom.
Sabo watched her disappearing in the hallway, before turning at the group of nobles that had accompanied them since the funeral. He could see the nervousness of their looks, because even if they didn’t consider the people much, what had happened made an effect.
“I apologize about my wife’s behavior,” Sabo said. “I should stay with her, but you can enjoy the banquet, so we won’t waste the effort.”
“We have an agreement,” Byron murmured.
“Oh, yes,” Sabo commented. “The doctor sent my analysis yesterday: I’m capable to have children. Isn’t that a good news?”
“Excellent one, your majesty.” Pratchett wasn’t at the funeral, but he waited for the right moment to make his appearance in the ballroom. He wasn’t supposed to call Sabo with that honorary before his coronation, but Sabo appreciated it, as he was enjoying the look on the nobles’ faces.
“You… You killed the king. You don’t deserve…”
“There is no proof of that, am I right, Lestrade?” Sabo turned his head to him.
“Correct, your majesty,” he replied, as he gestured at the royal guards, who took place all around the ballroom, rifles in hand in a very threatening manner. “Lord Outlook III was, until now, the only culprit of the bombing.”
“Like I said, enjoy the banquet.” Sabo smirked at the nobles. “This is still the day of mourning. From tomorrow, you’ll have thirty days to settle down with the idea I’ll be king. Or assassinate me in the meantime, if you can.”
For this time, he didn’t wait to see their expression. There was a more important matter to take care off, so he left the ballroom and moved for the royal quartiers. Nentokanette’s door was locked, so Sabo simply kicked it until he opened, without even knocking.
She welcomed him throwing a pillow. “I hate you. I hate you so much!” She sank her head in the bed, refusing to see him.
“I already know that,” Sabo replied. He remained near the door, not making any gesture towards her.
She glared. “You’re not even sorry about what your father did to mine? And my brother!”
“I am,” Sabo said. “I didn’t want that. I don’t even want being king. But that matter something to you? Or are you already convinced I’m as guilty as my father?”
She licked her lips, not answering.
So Sabo continued, “if I stepped out of our marriage, someone else will take my place. Maybe he will treat you better, but you’ll be always only a way to reach the throne, no else. Because that’s what you are.”
“I thought you were different,” she admitted.
“Maybe, in some way I am,” Sabo nodded. “That’s why I’m offering you a deal.”
“A deal?”
“When I’ll be king, I’ll change the law that prevent woman to reign alone,” Sabo explained. “No Byron neither Fersen would like something like that. I don’t care. I won’t be here forever.” He paused. “Next time, they couldn’t treat you as a puppet anymore.”
She blinked, so two tears slipped on her tears. She remained silent.
“Think about it,” Sabo finished. Go out from your hideout, and stop protecting your face. Get ready to be hurt more, but also to fight.
Since the passage between their two rooms was still locked and Sabo didn’t want to break another door, he left to the hallway and close the door behind him as much as it was possible. He found Pratchett here, waiting for him.
“I apologize, your majesty,” he said. “I wasn’t eavesdropping.”
Sabo raised an eyebrow. “I don’t mind as long as it’s you,” he replied. “I don’t have secret.” Almost, he thought, as his mind went back to the Revolutionary Army, that still hadn’t contacted him.
“Thank you.” Pratchett smiled. “The nobles left without even touching the banquet.”
“Disappointed but not surprised,” Sabo commented. “Send all the food to the Downtown and the Gray Terminal, they’ll appreciated it. And…” his lips trembled a little. “Thanks for what you did. I know you had something to do with the little show after the funeral,” he added, at Pratchett confused expression.
“Oh. That.” Pratchett bit his lips, cheeks red. “Lestrade told me people were gossip about you so… I had to do something. Explain what would mean having you as a king. And apparently it made quite an impression that you’d like to step aside from the king’s position. Especially the people from the Grey Terminal.”
“I own you big time.”
“No. We’re even,” Pratchett replied. “You hired me because I’m good. And I want you king for the same reason.” He bit his lips. “What do you mean before, about not being king forever?”
“And here you said you weren’t eavesdropping,” Sabo joked. “Don’t worry about that, for now. Let’s focused on staying alive until the coronation ceremony.”
“Do you really think they will try something?” Pratchett sounded alarmed.
“Yes.”
“I’ll talk to Lestrade; we’ll reinforce the security. We can hire some bodyguards for you and…” His voice trailed. “Shouldn’t be worried about Lady Chambord and the others too?”
“Definitely. But I won’t fire them for now. It only makes things worse.”
“They won’t be grateful for this.”
“Probably not,” Sabo agreed with a sigh. He felt tired and Pratchett understood that.
“There’s something more I can do for you, your majesty?”
“No, thank you.”
With a bow, he turned around and Sabo didn’t wait for him, before moving towards his room. When he closed the door, he heard a rumor and, a second after, he individuated a cloaked figure sitting on his bed. Did the nobles already send a killer after him? He was about to grabbed something to defend himself, when the figure moved his hood.
Sabo’s eyes bulged. In the moment he saw Dragon in his room, he left free all the anxiety and the tension of the past days. Tears fell down his eyes as he throws himself at Dragon and sobbed against his chest. Dragon didn’t complain: he moved to the bed to sit as he hugged him.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to come before,” was the first thing Dragon said when Sabo’s sobs calmed down.
“No. No. I understand… You have a lot to do…” He rubbed his nose, to clean off the snot.
“I still would prefer to arrive first. Tell me what happen.”
And Sabo did. He talked and talked, explaining the reason of his choices and his worries about the future. He felt better after: he could count on Pratchett and Lestrade, and even if he could consider them his friend, they still were his subjects. Dragon was his boss, sort of.
“You did a wonderful job,” Dragon commented at last.
“I don’t want to be king,” Sabo stated.
Dragon nodded. “But it could be useful from the time being. I promise you it won’t be forever.”
“What should I do?” Sabo knew his voice sounded tired.
“For now, we’ll keep you safe,” Dragon explained. “I’ll sent some reinforcement to check on you, because I fear those nobles won’t stay put.” He reached for his coat and pull off a small box. “In the meantime, I have something for you.”
Capitolo 6
Outlook’d a lot of time thinking about what it had gone wrong, since the prison didn’t allow him many distractions and the guards where deaf at his requests of seeing his son, the prince of Goa. The future king.
In the end, he realized he didn’t make any mistakes. It was just misfortune his contact for the bomb was somewhat caught by the marines. And of Sabo would have been a little be smart and a little less honest, he would have hidden everything so Outlook wouldn’t have pass a day in prison.
Still, his plan had worked. The king and the prince had died. Once Sabo would be king, the honor of the family would be restored. A small part of Outlook didn’t forget the look of hatred Sabo’d given him in the past, but all his being refused to believe his son, his own blood, would have left him in prison.
And when the guards came to call him, because his majesty would talk with him, he knew he wasn’t wrong.
He was lead to the small room for the interview. Sabo was already there, sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the table. Outlook’s relief made his legs tremble.
“Your Majesty…”
His son was the king. It was wonderful.
The guard glared at him, then he hit him in the hip to make him kneel.
“It’s fine,” Sabo said. He hadn’t lift his head to look at Outlook. “Leave us alone.”
“As you order, your majesty,” he guard nodded and bowed. “I’ll be just behind the door.”
Once he left, Outlook smile grew. He sat down to the opposite side and took his time to check on Sabo. “You don’t wear the crown.”
Sabo snorted. “It weights and it’s useless.”
“It’s the symbol of who you are,” Outlook replied.
“That’s the reason I hate it.” Sabo lift his head and the fire in his eyes took Outlook aback. That didn’t stop him to ask, “when I’ll be out of here? Maybe we could live in the palace from now on…”
“Lord Outlook III.” Sabo interrupted him. He sighed. “For the charge of terrorist attack and for the murder of the previous king, the crown prince and other seven people, you had been found guilty. You were sentenced with the death penalty.”
Outlook blinked. “What?”
“For what it counts, I pleaded for the hard labor, but it wasn’t my decision to made,” Sabo added. “The sentence will take place in two days.”
“You… You can’t be serious, Sabo,” Outlook babbled. “I’m your father.”
“And also a murderer,” Sabo replied. “You know you almost kill Stelly too back then?”
“He should have listen to me and stay at home.”
Sabo sighed. “You don’t even negate it.”
“I did it for you. I did everything for you!”
Sabo jumped still, the chair fell behind him. He gestured at the guard, so he didn’t enter in the room, and looked at Outlook with the same eyes he’d have after his illness. Now Outlook was scared.
“You did everything for me?” Sabo hissed. “You did everything for you.”
“Sabo, your family…” Outlook tried to defend himself.
“I had a family, and you stole it from me,” Sabo snapped back. “The day you came in the Grey Terminal and forced me to return home. The day you lied to me taking advantage of my memory loss. My… brother died… and I didn’t even remember him… So please, stop doing things for me!”
Outlook’s mouth opened. “You…”
“Yes, father, I have my memory back.”
“I… I did…”
“I know what you did,” Sabo replied. “I’m not sure I want you dead for that, but surely I don’t feel pity for you.”
He moved to the door and knocked to the guard.
“Sabo, please, let’s talk about it. You can’t be serious. Please, Sabo. Sabo!”
But Sabo left the room and Outlook didn’t remain other but scream his name in vain.
***
Sabo found himself in the prison again, two times in the same days. He didn’t anticipate it, because his plan was to order to the guard to release Stelly in his place, but the meeting with his father had left him a bitter taste in his mouth.
He felt he wasn’t satisfied with it. He wasn’t satisfied with the outcome of the relationship with his father. He wished for so long to get revenge, but death wasn’t the option he’d considered. He felt empty, in some way.
He had no idea how a meeting with Stelly would change his feeling; it was only a lucky try.
His step-brother had faced the imprisonment worse than his father: they both were completely different from how Sabo remembered them, skinny and messy. However, his father had still a fire in his eyes, which Sabo’d extinguished with the news about his condemn. Stelly looked utterly destroyed.
But when he placed his gaze on Sabo, a hint of his usual malice turned back, alongside with a shaking lip. With Sabo’s surprise, there wasn’t hatred there, only resignation. He knelled as the guard ordered him, and so he remained until Sabo told him to stand up.
Stelly didn’t sit in the chair at the table. “Do you come here to gloat?” he commented, eyes on the ground.
“No, I don’t have time for this petty thing,” Sabo replied.
Stelly hadn’t miss a change to call out Sabo out of his failures, and he hadn’t stop even when Sabo’d married Nentokanette. Stelly was the smart son, the successful son. Or better, he had been. Right now was only a convict waiting for his sentence. As Nentokanette, he didn’t anticipate the day his only choice would be remain hidden and hoping his arm would be enough to avoid most pain. They weren’t, but lucky for Stelly Sabo wasn’t there to hit him. Not too much, at least.
“Then why are you here? Do you want me to beg for mercy?”
“You’re innocent, father testified so,” Sabo said. “I’m here to confirm your release.”
Stelly’s eyelid twitched, revealing his surprise. “I’m free to go?” he asked, as he didn’t believe it.
Sabo nodded. “The house was sold off, mother is living in another place now,” he explained. “Since you spent time in prison as innocent, I’ll guarantee you a refund so you can start over.”
“I don’t understand,” Stelly murmured. “Our house was sold? Why? And what about father?”
“Our house, as every other Lord Outlook’s properties, was sold because that’s what it happened when you’re guilty of murdering a king,” Sabo answered. He took a sigh. “Father will be executed in two days.” Speaking those words to Stelly made him more real and Sabo understood that they hurt a lot.
Stelly’s eyes widened. “You’re going to let father being executed.”
“It’s not my choice, but I didn’t oppose to it. Father is guilty.”
“He did it for you!”
Their father’d said the same thing. Pronounced by him, they managed to let Sabo’s anger to erupt, along with the memories with everything Sabo had lost because of his father’s decision. From Stelly, they lost all their force and they reveal the truth behind them: they were both victims of Outlook’s decisions.
“He almost got you killed too, Stelly.”
Stelly froze. “He told me to remain home. I should have…”
“He didn’t stop the bombing though,” Sabo replied. “You should thank only your luck for your survival.”
“That’s because…” Stelly tried to speak, but Sabo understood the only explanation was too hard to him to accept, let alone pronounce it. So Sabo finished the sentence for him.
“That’s because you are just a replacement. Father told me so when he brought me back from the Grey Terminal. An insurance if I wouldn’t have been able to success in life.” Sabo smirked. That was a bad strike. “But I did in the end, so your life was expendable.”
“It’s not true.” But the reply sounded weak and his entire body was shaking.
“Don’t sound so surprised. You’re the one that first told me that the people of the Grey Terminal are included in the garbage. Nobles treated people like that all the time, and father wasn’t different. We are always the garbage of someone else.”
Stelly’s mouth opened twice, but no word come off. “I suggest you to come off from our father’s ghost as soon as you can,” Sabo added, standing up. In some way, he was speaking at himself too. “He’s incapable to love and only see people as useful tool for him to gain power. I realized it a long of time ago.” And unfortunately the memory loss made him forgot for too many years. “Now it’s your turn to accept it.”
***
Despite what Sabo had said to Stelly, he wasn’t happy about his father’s death. He didn’t understand why, since his father was guilty and in general he hadn’t done much to deserve mercy. Still he felt as a murdered and the fact that his father hadn’t stop to plead him for forgiveness since the guards dragged him to the scaffold didn’t help.
Only the guillotine put end to Outlook’s screams, a scene Sabo didn’t watch because, without even noticed, he closed his eyes. He opened them again when he heard the happy yells of the other, in time to notice the satisfied smirk on Nentokanette’s face.
At least one of us is happy, he thought.
Sabo wondered if, in the opposite situation, he would act like her. Could he face Ace’s killer and be cool about that? Maybe not. So he tried to be not annoyed by her behavior, as they returned to the royal palace, but he was grateful when he remained alone in his room.
For a second, he stayed still at the door, until the feeling became too much overwhelming. He rushed in the bathroom and vomit acid. He wiped away the sweat away from his forehead and coughed.
His father was dead. His father was dead and he killed him, sort of. The thought made him vomit again.
“Are you okay?”
Sabo turned around and, recognizing a maid’s dress, was about to get angry because no one should enter in his room without permission, especially someone sent by Lady Chambord. His mouth stopped as he looked at her face and her red hair.
“Koala…?” he blinked. “What… What are you doing here?”
“Checking you won’t be assassinated.” There was a hint of amusement in her tone, that didn’t match with her actual worried look. “Are you okay?”
“I wasn’t poisoned, if that’s what you meant.” He regretted immediately being so rude with her. “Sorry,” he added.
“You’ve been under a lot of pressure.”
A part of him would like to hug her in the same way he’d done with Dragon; he gave up remembering she hadn’t liked it. So he patted her arm, as he asked, “for how long have you been there?”
“Two days after the funeral. Dragon-san supposed your enemies would try to act before your coronation, to make thing easier.”
It was the same thing Dragon had told Sabo. He nodded as he returned in the room and lie down in the bed, covering his eyes with his arms.
“You’re still here,” he commented.
“I will be here for a while,” Koala explained. “Helping you.”
“I’m sorry you’re stuck here with me. I’m pretty sure you’d prefer doing better thing that served people and wear maid dress. Like saving people and similar things.”
“I’m saving you,” she replied gently. Since he didn’t continue, she added, “are you sure you’re okay?”
“No.” He felt he needed to fill the silence. “I was thinking… I wanted my father dead. I hated him. Right now I just feel empty. And sad. And it’s just not right after all he did…”
Koala sat next to him. “I’m glad.”
“About what?” He glared.
“Remember what you said to me when we met?” she explained. “You’re worried you could become like the nobles of this kingdom. Those feelings you have are the proof you’re still yourself.”
“You think so? Because I’m not sure anymore of who I am.”
There were moments when Sabo was sure to be the one looking for someone defenseless to fight, and doing it with pleasure as they could only use their arms as a shield, and not the other way around anymore.
“I’ve been here long enough that realizing the game of power the nobles do are awful, so I’m not surprised you hid your true self in order to survive,” Koala commented. “But I can assure you that in the future you’ll be free and that part of yourself will appear again, like it did today.”
***
“Stelly, honey. Stelly? Stelly! Well, honey, where are you?”
He pressed the pillow to his ears, hoping the rumors would disappear. The sight of his mother was unbearable, as she was now, with that horrible clothes and the callous hands and the face without the makeup.
Well, everything about that place was unbearable.
Stelly wondered if it was all a cruel joke of Sabo, letting him out of prison only to see him suffer in that small house in the Grey Terminal, with their mother, a noblewoman, forced to cook and do choirs. And she was terrible at it, so Stelly fasted most of the time. He also feared that the money Sabo had promised him didn’t exist.
Prison was better, at least he didn’t have to see his mother in that situation. And the food was fine. Stelly spent most time in his room, trying to sleep so he could forget about his situation.
“Ah, here you are.” His mother grabbed the pillow, revealing his face. “You received an invitation. From Lord Byron!”
“What?” Stelly jumped up and grabbed the envelope she had. Lord Byron asked at him to participated at one of their Thursday night, and for real!
“Oh, I know things will be better. I’m pretty sure Lord Byron will offer you a work. We’ll buy back our house and…”
“I can’t go,” Stelly interrupted her.
“Wait, why?”
“Look at me! How can I go to their evening like this?” With the third rates clothes and the old shoe and not having someone who can wash and arrange his hair. Sabo had left them with nothing at all.
His mother understood. “Oh, honey… We could ask your brother for a change of clothes?” Even without Stelly’s glare, she realized it wasn’t an option.
“I can help.”
They both turned at the door, where the owner of the house they’re guest at stood, a big woman with curly brown hair.
“How?” Stelly spat.
“My brother in law is a tailor and he can rent a suit to you. As long as you don’t ruin it, it should be fine. Eh, you can point out him to your noble friends!”
“That would be so great!” his mother squeaked.
“Oh, no problem. He’s the king’s brother after all.”
Stelly gritted his teeth. Each day he was remembered the people of the Grey Terminal helped him because his relationship with Sabo. He was so loved there; they didn’t even stop to think Sabo didn’t care enough about his own parents. Stelly hated it.
“Come on, honey! Let’s go to check your new clothes.”
There was no choice there. Stelly would try his all to Lord Byron’s evening, so he could return in the noble world. So he nodded and he followed his mother and the owner outside.
The suit was actually pretty bad, but at least it was new, with no stain or ruined sleeves. He hoped Lord Byron and the others would understand his situation. For sure they probably shared their hatred for Sabo.
Still he felt humiliated when he crossed Lord Byron’s mansion. He tried to remain collected as the butler announced him at the others in the living room. All the most important nobles were there, included the families of the people his father had accidentally killed, people Stelly couldn’t sustain the gaze. Their children, the ones around Stelly’s age, weren’t present.
It was the evening of adults: Stelly felt out of places but at the same time excited because that could be his occasion.
“Welcome, Lord Stelly.”
Lord Byron himself greeted him and guided him at one of the armchair. Wine was served and people began again to talk to each other. Stelly felt a little more relaxed, so he looked around to find a spot where he could intervene and start perorating his cause.
It wasn’t necessary, because Lord Fersed turned at him and asked, “what happen to your father was terrible.”
Stelly gulped. How was supposed to answer that, with the victims’ families in the room?
“None of us believe Lord Outlook was guilty,” Lord Fersen continued, and the others in the room nodded. “It’s clear the true culprit was none other than our dearest king,” he snickered, “and your father was just the escaping goat. He probably didn’t even know what paid for, only obeying his son’s order.”
“And the people believe it!” Lord Byron exclaimed. “That’s the reason why they’re inferior.”
“Do you really think so?” Stelly asked, surprised.
“Of course,” Lord Fersen confirmed. “No good people would have his own father assassinated, especially if he was in prison as innocent. King Sabo doesn’t even care.”
Stelly opened his mouth, then closed it. They’re picturing Sabo in a way opposite to Stelly’s knowledge of him. Sabo was too naive to even think a plan like him, and his father wasn’t so stupid to fall in a trap like that. Still… Sabo looked different when he’d came in the prison. He wasn’t anymore the stupid child that stay put and take all the strikes.
“And a good person would have help his family,” Lord Byron added. “Instead, he didn’t even host you and your mother at the royal palace.”
“He promised me money,” Stelly murmured.
“And you trusted him?” Lord Fersen snorted.
Stelly didn’t answer.
Lord Byron placed a wooden box on the table, opened it and took of a small gun with the handle in mother-of-pearl.
“You’re one of us, Lord Stelly,” Lord Byron said. “We won’t abandon you, but we need your help.”
“We can’t have Sabo as king,” Lord Fersen added. “He will destroy us as he destroyed your family.”
“What… do you mean?” Stelly glared at the gun still in Byron’s hand.
“We’re here to ask you to kill the king.” Lord Bryon lend the gun to him. “This one is small and light.”
Stelly placed it back in the table, nervously. “Why should I do something like this? Can’t we just hire someone to do the job for us?” That’s what nobles do. They didn’t dirt their hands.
“We tried!” There was exasperation in Lord Fersen’s voice. “We tried many times, especially before the coronation ceremony, but that bastard’s lucky and well protected. This is our last chance.”
“Queen Nentokanette is with us,” Lord Byron added, surprising Stelly. “She doesn’t want to remain married with the killer of her father and brother. She agreed to take as his future husband one of our children,” and he pointed at Fersen and himself, “but she promised us that you’ll be rewarded for your effort.”
“How?” Stelly said.
“She’ll return your house to you, alongside with your position as personal secretary of the new king. Everything that your brother stole for it, we’ll give you back.”
Stelly swallowed, looking at the gun. Was killing really his last option to return to his life? The memory of his few days as personal secretary of the prince came back: it was a great part of his life. He wanted it back. He wanted back his money, his power, his privileges.
“What I should do?”
“Ask for a private audience with the king,” Lord Byron explained. “Nentokanette assures you’ll be received. Then shot him once you’re alone with him.”
“The gun is easy to use, you just need to be near enough,” Lord Fersen recommend. “An hug could do the trick.”
“Sabo will destroy the nobility. We’re all in your hand,” Lord Byron finished.
Slowly, Stelly placed a hand on the gun. “I’ll do it.”
***
It was five o’clock when Sabo left the throne room after the audience. His stomach grumbled. In all day he’d ate only a sandwich Koala’d brought to him in the five minutes of pause he’d given himself.
After the thirty days the people’d stayed without king, no wonder a lot of them needed him to resolve controversies and such. And then there were the curious, people who just would like check on the behavior of the new king. Sabo couldn’t deny them his time, so recently he spent his days listening to people.
Pratchett informed him of the other task: since when he was promoted as king’s advisor, he took care of all task Sabo couldn’t anymore. “Last thing, your step-brother came this afternoon for a private audience. I let him wait in your office, but if you’d prefer to rest I can send him away.”
Sabo shook his head. “No, I’ll see him. Probably he wants information about his money.”
“Here.” Pratchett leaned him a folder. “Since all Outlook’s bank accounts had been confiscated, I opened a new one to Lord Stelly’s name and a made a transfer there for a part of the profit from the auction.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow at the throne room,” Sabo commented as he briefly checked the folder.
With that sentence, Pratchett understood Sabo would prefer remain alone. He nodded and stepped away before they reached the office. Sabo entered: Stelly sat down nervously in the armchair, but when he heard the door opened, he jumped still.
He looked at Sabo, as he was unsure how to act, then bowed. “Your majesty.”
Sabo gestured at the guard Pratchett had left in the office with Stelly to leave. “Sit down, please.” He placed the folder on the desk. “Here’s your money.”
Without any look, he moved towards the window and opened it. From his office, he could see the vastness of the sea after the Goa’s harbor. The screeches of the seagulls and the wind in his air made him better, almost believing he was on a ship, even if he couldn’t smell the salt of the water.
“I think you’ll be fine from now,” he commented, as he heard the sound of flipping pages.
“…yes,” Stelly whispered. “But I’m here for another question.”
“Then talk.” Sabo kept his back at him, eyes still focused on the blue sea.
Stelly took a long breath. “I was hired by other noble families to kill you.”
Sabo turned around, wondering if Stelly could be so stupid to reveal his plan before actually out in in motion. Especially when Sabo was offering him an easy target. Instead, Stelly had placed the small gun on the desk in front of him and put his hands on his laps, his face bowed.
“I’m surprise you didn’t shoot me right and there.”
Stelly blinked. “You knew? You were turning your back at me in purpose?”
“You couldn’t have killed me in any case.” Sabo smirked. “Now tell me why you didn’t.”
Stelly gritted his teeth. “They promised me money and a high position, but I’m not so stupid,” he explained, turned his eyes off Sabo. “Killing you, with guards outside… and they know I’m here… The others are just using me to reach you, but they’ll abandon me soon enough so they can get what they want looking innocent.”
“It sounds plausible.”
“They accused you of a lot of thing, but I wonder if they understand you at all. Because you’re not like them. Not like us.”
Sabo felt satisfaction in his heart. After Koala, even Stelly confirmed him he didn’t turn into a noble he hated.
“You also give me the money you promised. You look more reliable than them, so I thought that maybe I can have a reward for my…” and he gestured at the gun.
Sabo moved near to him, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms. “So you did everything for your own advantage.”
Stelly swallowed. He slowly nodded.
Sabo saw the scene in his mind: Stelly was there, his arms trembled, as he protected his face, but he was brave enough to came out from his hideout. And Sabo wasn’t the one ready to strike him.
“That’s fine by me,” Sabo said. “I wouldn’t have believed you if you talked about brotherly love and shit like that.”
“So?” Stelly looked at him.
“Let’s make a deal. You’ll be loyal to me and I’ll give you what you want. Including the position of king’s personal secretary.”
“For real?”
“I need one since Pratchett is now my advisor.”
Stelly rubbed his hands. “And can I live here in the palace? With mother too?”
“Yes.” Sabo nodded. “As long as you don’t betray me. But you have to testify against the other nobles. Do we have a deal?”
“Deal.”
***
Sabo and Stelly were behind the door of the throne room. Nentokanette was already sitting on her throne, watching for the nobles to take place in front of her. When everyone was sitting down, she spoke.
“Dearest, I’m here because a terrible accident happened yesterday to our king.”
Sabo smirked: he could see Byron and Fersen trying to hide their excitation. Between Nentokanette’s words and the fact the audience of the day had been cancelled, no wonder they believe their assassination place had been successful.
“And it’s finally time to put an end of the situation.”
Lestrade entered in the room with his guards. The nobles were perplexed, but only when the guards started to grab them, they protested.
“What does that mean?” Byron screamed, his hand already tied behind him.
“My Lord, you were found guilty of treason, as you all were the instigations for the assassination of the king,” Nentokanette announced. “You’ll be under arrest until your sentence will be decided.”
Fersen’s eyes widened. “We did it for you!”
Oh, look, Sabo thought. They spoke like his father. They really were the same.
Nentokanette smirked. “I know. I’ve spoken with your wives long enough to have evidence about your guilt.”
Byron understood they were framed. “You can’t be queen alone. If you’re gonna married again a nobody, then you’ll be sorry again and we won’t be here to help you.”
At this point, Sabo appeared in the throne room. Every noble stopped, eyes widened, as he took place on the throne. Stelly followed him and remained at his side, straight and with arms behind his back.
“Luckily she doesn’t have to remarried, Lord Byron.”
Byron recollected himself. “You…” he spat towards Stelly, who trembled a little.
“Oh, do you meet my new personal secretary?” And when Byron was about to say something, Sabo added, “don’t be sad. It’s just business.”
Lestrade bowed in front of him. “We confirm we have already arrested all the remain of the family, including Lady Chambord, Lord Muzesky and Lord Richey.”
“Good. Pratchett will take care of the rest.”
Lestrade chuckled. “A lot of house to sell away.”
“We need the money for the new university,” Sabo gestured as it was nothing. “Bring them away.”
“As you order, your majesty.”
“That was… savage…” Stelly dared to say once they were alone in the room.
Nentokanette sighed. “So we hadn’t no more noble family and we’ll need to hire a new chamberlain, a new housekeeper and a new maître.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more people around worthy their position,” Sabo commented.
“Do you think mother could be the new housekeeper?” Stelly proposed.
Sabo would have preferred taking someone more competent, but he wouldn’t risk to oblige Nentokanette to too many upstairs. Better keep them quiet for now. He looked at her, who just shrugged.
“See? Easier than you thought.” Sabo stood up. “Now let’s go. Now that finally we don’t have to worried about assassination attempt anymore, we can take care of the most important thing.”
“What?” Stelly asked.
“The people of this kingdom.”
Capitolo 7
With her hands, Koala was stretching her black skirt and her white apron. She was ready to jump still and pretend she was there only to serve coffee to the king, but right now only her and Sabo were in the office, so she sat down in the armchair in front of his desk.
He was signing papers, not looking at her. She bit his lips.
“I’m not sure hiring your step-brother is a wise idea,” she said, at last.
He lifted his head, rising an eyebrow, but he didn’t speak.
So she continued, “I have a guess about it.”
“A guess?”
“You’re feeling guilty about your father’s death and you think giving privileges to your step-brother will make things right.”
“Nothing will make things right,” he replied. “But you’re probably right about me. I wouldn’t have been merciful to Stelly if he had shot me, but he didn’t.”
“He didn’t do it because he’s a good person,” Koala pointed out. She knew Sabo had lent Stelly a hand, but with the situation reversed, Stelly would have hit him. He’d done it in the past.
“I know. It’s just business.” Sabo sighed. “Even so, a part of myself hopes I can make Stelly a better person.”
Koala crossed her arms. She closed her eyes and her mind came back to the Sun Pirates. And to Arlong. Maybe not all people could be saved.
“I also have another reason to keep him here.”
“Which one?”
“Nentokanette agreed to help me in exchange of the new law about succession,” Sabo explained. “And I signed it. If I die, she’ll be queen alone.”
“I know, I know, it’s the reason I’m still here, so I can save your ass from her assassination’s attempts.” But she smiled.
“Right. The point is, I could kill her first. I’m the king now, so I don’t need her anymore, and I have a step-brother who can help me for the succession. A step-brother who’s supposed to be by my side. And that could have some claim to the throne if I die.”
“What if she’ll bring your step-brother on her side?” Koala asked.
“That’s what I hope,” Sabo answered. “It’ll take some time, giving me enough until the Reverie.”
Koala blinked. He smiled.
“I won’t be king of Goa forever; you should know that. In the meantime, I’ll try to improve this kingdom and leave it good sovereign.”
She sighed. “Are you sure about it?”
“I’m not made to be king. Not for long, at least. The world is gonna change, and I’ll change with it.”
***
Stelly couldn’t complain about his new life. He had a luxurious bedroom at the royal palace, all servants at his order and enough money to buy whatever he liked or needed. The best food, the best clothes – except the sovereign, there was no man powerful as him.
Sometimes the thought of being at his brother’s orders – his stupid, incapable brother – was insufferable, but Stelly hid it in a corner of his brain, behind all the privileges his position had.
The thing that real bothered Stelly was another: the work. When he was the prince’s personal secretary, his job was fairly simple: following him around, ordering thing for him, bringing his bags. Most of the time the prince had spent his time having fun with theatre, fox hunt or concert, all thing Stelly didn’t mind to organize or attend to.
Sabo, instead, didn’t take a minute for resting. Audiences started at eight – which meant a very early wakeup call – and they continued until the last citizen had his change to speak. Then, Sabo went in his office along with Stelly and Pratchett, organizing what he couldn’t resolve at the audience. Then, while Sabo remained in his office answering the letters he received and looking at the projects he was taking care off, Stelly and Pratchett went around to fulfill his orders. Usually dinner was served in Stelly’s room late at evening, once he had finished his work, because Sabo wouldn’t allow to start the day with the remains of the previous.
He was tiresome. Stelly supposed that, as one of the powerful men in the kingdom, he shouldn’t work so much. Still, he shut his mouth and did what he was told too, afraid Sabo could change his mind. Pratchett was a lot more efficient than Stelly and he didn’t hide his displeasure about Stelly. Stelly couldn’t afford a common man to surpass him.
But he couldn’t hide his enthusiasm when a less demanding day happened. The audience finished before usual, and there were few things to be settle after. Stelly returned in Sabo’s office at five for leaving him the documents to be sign.
“Good work,” Sabo commented, and he piled them with the other papers he was checking.
Stelly remained still, uncertain. He was expecting Sabo giving him more orders.
“You can go,” Sabo said, when he noticed his presence. “You’re free until tomorrow morning.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Sure.”
“This is great.” Stelly couldn’t believe it. “What can I do?”
Sabo chuckled. “Whatever you like. Resting, shopping, going in the swimming pool…”
“We have a swimming pool?” Stelly interrupted him. “And you tell me only now?”
“Well, it’s not you have time before, right?” Sabo smirked. “We even have a sauna there.”
“And can I go?”
“Yes. Go before I change my mind.”
Stelly was beyond happiness. Finally, some rest, finally some way to use his privileges as he should be. He almost cried when he entered in the swimming pool room, admiring the glass dome and the sun rays that made the water glittering. He was so overwhelmed by it that failed at first to notice the figure sitting in one of the sunbed.
But when he got near the swimming pool, he jumped. “Your Majesty?!” He looked around, freaking out, then bowed. He cursed Sabo: he did it in purpose to embarrass him. “I’m so sorry, I leave right no….”
“No,” she said. She wasn’t even watching him, sunglasses covered her eyes. “You can stay.”
“…thank you, your majesty.” Carefully, Stelly placed the bathrobe on another sunbed next to him.
She ringed a bell. “Do you like something? A cocktail, maybe?”
“Uh, sure.”
A maid appeared and Nentokanette ordered her two drinks and something to eat. The maid nodded and came back ten minutes later with a tray, that was placed on a small table between the two sunbeds.
Nentokanette moved to take one of the glass and her swimsuit adorned with golden string glittered. “I don’t mind company,” she said, after taking a sip. “It’s tiresome being always alone.”
Stelly guessed her life was pretty different now that she was the queen, especially with Sabo as king. And after they got arrested all the nobilities of Goa, there weren’t many other people to spend time with.
“You come here often?” he asked tentatively.
“Every day, after work. It relaxes me.”
Stelly released a small smile. “I imagine Sabo wouldn’t have spent a second here. He didn’t know how to relax.”
She snorted. “Not at all.” Then she sighed. “Would you know a thing? Back then, I chose Sabo because I thought he wouldn’t be like the others. He would have looked at me as a person.” She shook her head. “Instead he was the worst one.”
“He is different,” Stelly confirmed. “Just not the way you thought.”
“Definitely.”
She lied down again, so Stelly licked his lips, uncertain. “Do you believe he’s the one behind your father and your brother’s assassination?” In some way, Stelly would like to believe it, to clear his father’s name. To believe again he hadn’t been ready to kill Stelly.
“Does this make any difference?” she replied. “Things are like that.”
***
“Where’s Sabo?” Nentokanette asked, as she didn’t see him at the breakfast table.
“His majesty has other things to attend to today,” Pratchett explained. He was giving the other managers the order of the day.
“Which things?” she insisted.
“You should ask him.”
“Oh, I will!”
Stelly snored. In his opinion, Pratchett took advantage of his position and of Sabo’s favor to overcome his boundaries. Not even the king’s advisor should talk to the queen in that way.
“What about the audience?” he asked. He wondered if he could have the day off. Or a simple task, which allowed him to have the afternoon free.
“You will take the king’s place, and I’ll help you, because we can’t let the people wait for the service,” Pratchett explained.
“Me?”
“His majesty’s orders.” There was and unpleased tone on Pratchett’s voice, showing he didn’t like it. Stelly wasn’t surprise, since for the first time he was hired Pratchett showed no respect for him. His loyalty stood with Sabo’s alone. For one time, Stelly agreed with him. The audience were utterly boring when he was there to assist Sabo, he couldn’t image the boredom being in Sabo’s place.
None of them had a choice.
A small chair was arranged in front of the throne and Stelly took pace there, with Pratchett at his side. They use as excuse a small illness of the king: a couple of people decided to leave and wait for the king to get better, but most of them needed resolve and remained.
At first, he was hard for Stelly to stay focused. He tried to think back at Sabo, guessing how he would react in the same situation and trying to imitate him. In the end, he had to admit he like the feeling. The people who smiled and bowed at him, who thanked him for his benevolence, who showed him respect. Even most of them reminded him about Sabo, their admiration for today was only for Stelly.
For that reasons, he didn’t complain much when he had to attend audience the day after, and then after that. At first he was a little bit annoyed about Sabo’s disappearance, but he appreciated the people were starting to recognize and respect him more. And he still had free time to go to the swimming pool at late afternoon, spending time with Nentokanette.
She was a wonderful girl and she thought a lot like him. He was glad to have someone like him to talk with, while most of the other managers shared Sabo’s ideas. Nentokanette was more annoyed about Sabo’s behavior, so Stelly tried her best to cheer her up each day.
His resolve was put on the line the day he arrived at the swimming pool to find Nentokanette crying. Her eyes were full of tears as she looked at him, before burying her head in her hand and sobbing.
“What happened?” He dared to sit down next to her. “We can resolve it, your majesty. There’s nothing we can’t do. You’re the queen of Goa!”
“He cheated on me!” she managed to say between her sobbing.
“Cheat? Who?”
“Sabo!”
Stelly’s eyes widened. “What? With whom?”
“With the red hair maid who trots around him.” She blew her noise on the bath towel. “I saw them: he was smiled… he never smiled with me like that. And she talked with him as he wasn’t her king!”
“Pratchett didn’t act as you were his queen,” Stelly pointed out.
“It’s different. A woman understands.” She glared at him. “And can you explain to me where Sabo’s spending his mornings? He even stopped attending the audience. He’s with her, I’m sure about that.”
Stelly blinked. A part of him couldn’t believe Sabo would be so superficial to abandon the kingdom for a lover. Still, he was there for Nentokanette, so he agreed with her. “I hadn’t notice the maid,” he changed subject.
“Me neither, at first,” Nentokanette spat. “But of course Sabo did!”
“He’s an idiot. He had a wonderful woman like you and he prefers spending time with a low rate maid and with the citizens and their stupid problems.”
She sniffed. “Do you really think I’m wonderful?”
“S-sure…” Stelly blushed.
She smiled. “Do you know what would be wonderful?” She placed a hand on his legs, leaning towards him. “Sabo dying. If he does, I can marry you, and you can be king.”
***
Stelly could meet Sabo only one time during the day, at evening, when he welcomed him and Pratchett to make a summary of the day and giving orders for tomorrow. Even Pratchett looked worried about the fact Sabo was neglecting the audiences, but he didn’t talk about his concerns. Stelly had other problems in his mind at the moment.
“Can I speak a second in private?” he asked, when the work was finished.
Sabo blinked. “Sure.”
Pratchett shifted his looks from the two of them, then left with a word. Sabo started to sign the pile of papers he had on the desk.
“Is it true you’re cheating the queen with your red head maid?”
Stelly had looked at them closely after Nentokanette’s reveal and he noticed Sabo looked at ease with her. And she took too much confidence. And they disappeared together on the morning. Now Stelly needed to know if Sabo wasn’t he person he thought he was.
“What?” Sabo startled, almost making the pile of papers fell. He blushed. “No!”
Stelly was uncertain how to reach, so he remained still.
“Who’s saying that?”
“People around,” he answered vague. “You stay with her a lot.”
The red was still there on Sabo’s cheeks. “Do you think she noticed?”
“The queen? Well…”
“Koala. The maid,” he added to explain better.
Stelly frowned. “Are you asking if your lover knows she’s your lover?”
“She’s not my lover! But… I may have a slight crush on her and people could misunderstand that.” Sabo’s gaze shifted, unable to stay put.
“Oh.” Stelly was surprised by that admission. But after all, sovereign couldn’t divorce because a trivial thing as having a lover. “So you don’t have a relationship with her?”
“Not a love relationship,” Sabo pointed out.
“Why not?”
“Many reasons. The first and most important is that having an affair isn’t right neither for Koala neither for Nentokanette.”
“Well, if you have a crush on the maid, it means you don’t like the queen, so…”
“I may not love Nentokanette, but she’s still my wife. She’s not her fault she was the tool to get to the royal family. All people would have married her without love, but I can give her at least my respect.”
Stelly snored. Of course Sabo was the selfless one. Of course! He cursed himself for having believe for a second Sabo could be guilty of cheating. “Only you could prefer a maid over a queen,” he muttered.
“Looks like you like Nentokanette.” Sabo chuckled.
It was Stelly’s time to blush. “It’s not like that!”
“It’s okay.” Sabo had regained his composure and started signing the papers again. “You and her have a lot in common than me. I’m glad she can have some company.”
“She was worried about you cheating on her. Maybe you should spend some time with her?” Stelly proposed.
“Maybe. Tell me something more.”
Stelly reflected: he was sure Nentokanette had told reserved things to him. Still, Sabo looked interest to catch up his relationship with her and it could make her happy. So he talked about her desire about having day off, about going to the opera and so on. He also suggested some presents Sabo could give her. Stelly spoke ignored the sting in his heart.
Sabo finished his work and leaned to the back of the armchair. His eyes were closed, so at first Stelly though he was concentrating on the words. Only when he heard the first snore, Stelly realized Sabo had fallen asleep. He got angry, then understood Sabo should be exhausted from his work. He tilted his head, unsure how to act.
“Do you know what would be wonderful? Sabo dying. If he does, I can marry you, and you can be king.”
His hand moved on one of the pillow of the armchair. If Stelly suffocate Sabo, no one would notice. He could bribe the doctor to tell it was a heatstroke for too much work. No one could accuse him of murder and sure Nentokanette wouldn’t mind.
He grabbed the pillow and moved slowly next to Sabo’s armchair. He paused: Sabo was still snoring. He lifted the pillow, gripping with both hands. He could just lower him on Sabo’s face and keep it there. Five minutes. Sabo wouldn’t yell.
You’ll be loyal to me and I’ll give you what you want.
He stood there, looking at the peaceful expression on Sabo’s face. So even you have weakness, Stelly thought. Fingers twitched on the pillow. Sabo trusted him. Until now, he was the only one who hadn’t hit Stelly but, on the contrary, he gave him his hand.
I can be king. I can marry Nentokanette.
But his arms didn’t move. With a sigh, Stelly placed back the pillow on the armchair and left.
***
Koala had never hidden his displeasure for Sabo’s decision about Stelly. She understood him, of course, but she felt it could cause only more problems and more disappointment to Sabo. She protected him from the assassination attempts, that was all she could do.
So she wasn’t exactly gentle when, in the early morning, she entered in Stelly’s room to wake him up. He blinked trice before noticing she was there and she was the one calling for him.
“His majesty would like to see you. Get up.”
She was very careful to impersonate a maid, even if she knew people were talking about the preference Sabo was showing her. Right now, it didn’t matter anymore. She grabbed the sheet and took off.
“I’m awake, I’m awake!” he protested. He climbed down the bed, glaring at her. “Which time is it?”
“Five in the morning.”
“Five?” he screeched. “What Sabo wants at this time?”
“You’ll find out.”
Stelly sighed. He looked around, a little perplex, and Koala smirked.
“Would you like me to help you to dress?” she proposed.
He watched her carefully, as he was considering the idea, then he opened the wardrobe, took some clothes and disappeared in the bathroom. Koala crossed her arms and waited: luckily Stelly knew better Sabo didn’t like to wait, so ten minutes later they were outside the room. The first sunray lightened the hallway enough to let Koala noticed Stelly wasn’t as well-dressed and tidy as usual. His hair was messy, as he wasn’t used to prepare himself alone. And he looked worried, biting his lower lips. His steps became more and more sloppy as they reached Sabo’s office. When Koala activated the mechanism that opened the passage and they started climbing the long stair that brought to the underground, Stelly was sweating.
Sabo was waiting for them at the end of the stairs. He dressed his sweatpants and his gym shoes and he smirked noticing Stelly’s shocked look. He didn’t comment though, he just nodded to Stelly and Koala to followed him in the dark hallway.
“What is this place?” Stelly asked. His voice trembled a little.
“Every castle has its secrets,” Sabo answered. “For what I know, this one was created for the royal family to hide in case of danger.”
They reached the end of the hallway, where a big iron door stood. Right now it was open, because it could only open from the inside. Sabo stopped in front of it, then turned to Stelly with a big smile on his face.
“A pillow, uh,” he commented. “And do you think you could have hold me down long enough?”
Stelly paled. His lips trembled. “I… I… you were faking it again…? Were you testing me…? Because if that’s…”
“No, I feel asleep for real,” Sabo answered. “That’s the reason Koala is here to back me up.”
Stelly turned at her, as he was seeing her for the first time. Koala held his gaze, eyebrow lifted.
“Tell him I stopped. Tell him I didn’t even try! Tell him the truth.”
“I did,” Koala replied calmly.
“Koala don’t tell me lies,” Sabo commented. “But she’s her duty to inform me of everything out of ordinary.”
“I didn’t do it, I didn’t,” Stelly replied, his voice frantic. “I had the temptation because… I didn’t, I swear. I saw you sleeping but then I left! I wouldn’t have done it. Please do not kill me!”
Sabo blinked. “What? Killing you? Why?”
Stelly stopped. He gesticulated around, unable to explain himself better than showing Sabo the place they were. When Sabo understood, he laughed. A full open-mouth amused laugh, heartwarming. Koala prided herself to be one of the few people having heard it before.
“We’re not here to kill you, Stelly,” Sabo manage to say at last. Tears were in his eyes. “Sorry for the misunderstanding.”
“Well, to be fair, I would have though the same thing in his place,” Koala smiled.
“Oh, thank you,” Stelly snored. He didn’t look as amused as Sabo.
“Now that we clarify you’re gonna live, care to explain what got you in temptation? Because I though you don’t have much to complain,” Sabo said.
Stelly’s eyes shifted to the left. Koala was ready to inform Sabo that he would get a lie, but Stelly answered, she couldn’t admit it sounded true. “I don’t really like you.” And it was somewhat painful. Her eyes were on Sabo, trying to notice his feeling. Sabo was smiling.
“The feeling is reciprocating, but we have an agreement,” he commented. “So what changed your mind?”
“Nothing. I stopped.”
“It was Nentokanette, was it? What she promised you?”
Stelly should learn to conceal his emotions better, because the shock on his face was clear.
“What she promised you?” Sabo repeated, voice higher and leaning towards Stelly.
“That I’ll becoming king,” he murmured, and a second later his face fell, shame on it. Koala raised an eyebrow. “She… she didn’t mean it, I’m sure. She was angry. She thought you were cheating on her. And, well, her mistake was understandable.” He nodded at Koala, at the fact she was there, she knew the secret passage. She was special for Sabo, that was sure.
Just not in the way Nentokanette believed.
“Are you defending her?” Sabo regained his composure and there was curiosity in his voice.
“She relied on me. For confidence.”
“Are you in love with her?”
“What? No!” But Koala wasn’t so sure about that.
Sabo smirked. “It wouldn’t be so strange, since you two have a lot more in common than me.”
Koala restrained a small laugh. Sabo was the black sheep, no doubt about that. “Maybe he doesn’t want you to ask the queen, because she will negate everything,” she hypnotized.
“What? No… I mean, probably she…” Stelly looked uncertain. “I didn’t do it. She was angry. Can we all forget about it?”
“You had the temptation to kill our king. I’m not sure we can forget it.”
“Please tell me she’s joking.” Stelly looked at Sabo, pleading.
“She is,” he confirmed, with a big smile on his face. “But she’s not wrong, in some way. Am I right imagining Nentokanette didn’t tell you about the new law?”
“What new law?”
“I changed the succession law. Now queens can rule alone. If I die, Nentokanette won’t have to remarry.”
The surprise on Stelly’s face confirmed it. Sabo shot a look to Koala, who rolled her eyes. No reason to glover over him being right.
“Which mean you probably took the right choice remaining loyal. Let’s go.” Sabo didn’t even look at him and he opened the door, revealing the big empty room behind. It was a bunker after all, so no luxury was necessary.
Still, as she watched carefully Stelly followed him, she noticed a disappointment. She forced herself to not believe she could be sorry for him. He probably was a lot sadder about losing his chance to become king than being used by a woman.
Dragon-san was there, waiting for them. As usual, he was a man of few word. He shot a glare to Stelly, but not ask were made. He just nodded at Sabo to come nearer. Koala sat down next to the door and gestured at Stelly to join her. He looked still a little bit down, but the surprise was fast taking its place.
“A man lives here?”
“No, he came here for Sabo.”
“For what?”
“You’ll see it soon enough.” Koala’s eyes were on Sabo and Dragon-san. She braced herself as she imagined she should tolerate Stelly’s company for a while. “Do you recognize him?”
“Should I?” Stelly turned his attention from her to Dragon, then yelped as Dragon kicked Sabo against the wall. “What? My God!”
Koala sighed. It would be a long morning.
***
“You’re getting better,” Dragon said.
“You kicked my ass. As usual,” Sabo grumbled. He felt blood in his mouth: his nose was running. And he could feel his bruised increased.
Was it a smirk on Dragon’s face? “You can’t be too severe with yourself. Not many men can grasp haki and a devil’s fruit in so short time. Let aside beating me.”
“Okay.” Sabo released a little smile. “See you tomorrow morning?”
“As usual.”
Sabo turned to Koala and Stelly, next to the door. She was utterly annoyed, he was shocked. “Did I make a mistake?” he asked, unsure if he’d like an answer from Dragon.
“Only time will tell.”
He nodded and walked towards the other two. Koala stood up when he saw him arriving, Stelly was still looking at him with big eyes and he moved only when he was gestured to.
“Are… Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Sabo cleaned his face with his sweaty t-shirt, leaving bloody spots on it.
“Is this what you do every day? That’s why you left the audiences to us?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” There was disconcert in Stelly’s voice. Stelly didn’t understand a lot of Sabo’s behavior, but this time he was utterly shocked. Something out of his world.
“Because I need to become stronger. Stronger than I am now.”
“Stronger? But you’re already super strong!”
Sabo couldn’t hold back a smile. “Not enough. Still not enough.”
For a second, Stelly fell silent. He followed Sabo and Koala quiet, unsure if asking for more was the best idea.
“Who is that man?” he said at last.
Koala blinked. “You don’t recognize him?”
“Should I?”
“Definitely,” Sabo confirmed. “He’s the leader of the Revolutionary Army.”
There was no point in hiding it anymore. Stelly would have found it in any case, showing him the morning training would have been useless otherwise.
“The Rev- what the hell are you planning?” Stelly lost the ability to speak, and opened his mouth like a fish. “No. I don’t want to know. This is… You promised! You promised me and now this all… They make war! They destroy kingdom! I should have shot you! I should have used that damn pillow…”
Koala rolled her eyes. Sabo looked at him until the silence around made Stelly stop.
“Stelly,” Sabo began. “The most wanted criminal is here, every morning. He’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow. If you’d like, you can go out and tell everyone.”
“And the what will happen?”
“It depends how much the government will believe you,” Koala answered. “If we look for the optimistic part, they’ll send the CP0 here. They won’t manage to catch Dragon-san, but they could arrest Sabo for collusion. Nentokanette could divorce from him for treason and, who knows, maybe she’ll thank you for it.”
There was sarcasm in Koala’s voice and, Sabo was sure, even Stelly didn’t miss it. “And the pessimistic part?”
“A buster call that will destroy the entire kingdom.” Koala licked her lips. “I’m afraid to say, the world government isn’t known for his ability to be calm and collected.”
“So you showed me that only to shove in my face that I can’t do anything about it?”
“No.” Sabo shook his head. “I showed you that because I decided to trust you.”
Stelly looked at him. “Maybe you’re wrong.”
“Maybe. But from my part, I won’t let down our agreement.”
“I don’t know if I can trust you anymore on it.”
And with that, Stelly trumped on. They could hear his steps on the stairs. Koala placed a hand on his arm and Sabo thanked her mentally. He’d stop defending himself with his arms for such long, the strike in the face was particularly strong. He felt a little bit down, but after all, what was he expecting? Stelly not hitting him? Again, he should have known better.
He sighed. Three months until the Reverie. He survived worse, he would survive until that.
-
.
Prologo
“What?” Outlook snapped, as the butler entered in his office. It was late and even if he was still awake and working, for no reason he should be interrupted.
“I beg your pardon, my lord.” The butler didn’t flinch, but remained far from the desk. “There is a man at the front door, asking for you.”
“Now?” To underline the absurdity of the situation, Outlook shot a look at the clock.
“I told him it was late, and I asked him what he wants,” the butler continued. “But he insisted to speak only with you and to do it now. He didn’t even reveal his name.”
“Send him away.”
Outlook dismissed the entire matter with a move of his hand, until the butler ended his speech, “he said it’s about your son.”
My son’s dead, Outlook was about to say, but he pushed the sentence back on his throat as he remembered Sabo had faked his death once. He fought with the displeasure of agreeing with someone else’s demands, and with the anger that resurfaced about Sabo’s behavior the days before the Celestial Dragon’s visit.
But in the end he asked, “he’s still at the entrance?”
“Yes, near the door,” the butler nodded. “He refused to wait in the guest’s parlor, but he accepted at least not to stay on the street.”
“Come with me,” Outlook ordered, as he stood up.
The butler followed him downstairs, at the end of the enormous staircase. The front door was clamped, so Outlook waited for his butler to open it and check if the mysterious guest was still here.
“Lord Outlook is here,” the butler announced, then moved aside so the guest could enter. A tall, cloaked figure stood now in front of the entrance. His face was hidden in the shadow of the hood, as his entire body.
“I’m sorry,” he said, with a deep male voice. “I need to keep a low profile and I can’t talk with anyone but you.”
“Be fast,” Outlook replied. “I don’t have time to lose.”
The figure gestured at the butler, that was still next to him, and Outlook dismissed him with a wave of his hand. The butler, after a bow, moved aside, remaining near to intervene if his lord would be in danger, but far enough to not listen the conversation.
Only then the figure opened his long black mantel that covered him, revealing a sleeping child in his arm. Outlook blinked: below the blooded bandages that covered half of his face and the second-rate clothes, he was Sabo without any doubts.
“Yes! Yes…”
Outlook regretted having showed his eager, but the figure just nodded. With a couple of step, he got near Outlook and slipped Sabo on Outlook’s arm. Surprise by the sudden gesture, Outlook almost lost the grip.
“Be careful.” The figure chuckled a little, then helped to settle Sabo better. With a last caress on Sabo’s head, he moved back. He didn’t miss the movement of the butler, who was afraid he was about to attack Outlook.
“The reason I’d like to speak with you in person is about your son’s condition,” he explained, gained back Outlook’s attention from Sabo.
“Condition?”
“He was half-dead when we found him. We cured his wounds and we saved him, but unfortunately we couldn’t do anything about his memory. The damage at the head was too deep.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your son doesn’t remember anything of his past, not even his name. I’m sorry.”
For a long, long minute, Outlook remained silent, looking at the sleeping and wounded face of his son. His face was impenetrable.
“That’s all?” he demanded at the end.
“Yes, that’s all.”
Outlook had no intention to reward the figure in any way and the figure himself didn’t ask for it, he just turned around and even closed the door behind him.
“My lord…” The butler drew near, to check the situation, but Outlook interrupted him.
“Call my doctor,” he ordered, as the moved upstairs and the butler raced behind him
“It’s pretty late, my lord, I’m not sure-”
“Call him and tell him to come here at once,” Outlook repeated. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, my lord.”
A week had passed since Sabo’s accident, but his room was still there. After all, Outlook hadn’t dismissed it in five years. He placed the still sleeping Sabo on the bed, then took the chair of the desk and waited.
The doctor arrived half an hour later; if he was angry, or annoyed, by the sudden awake, he didn’t show it, except for the dark bags under his eyes.
“I’m here, my lord.”
“This is my son.” Outlook didn’t greet him, he stood up and nodded at the sleeping boy on the bed. “Check him,” he demanded. “Someone else treated his wounds, but I don’t trust them. And…” he hesitated a little, before continuing, “I was told he lost his memory. Confirm it.”
The doctor looked at Sabo. “If it’s true, I’m not sure waking him up is the best course of action…”
“Do it. I want answers and I want them now. I’ll be in my office, once you’re done.”
And with that he left. He returned at his work and his papers, even if he had problems to focus. His first born had always been an enormous source of problems and his last mischief – navigate in front of the ship of the Celestian Dragon, escaping from his house again – was just the last example. But Outlook was more than relieved to have him back: Sabo was his flesh and blood and he would never let him go.
The doctor came back after what seemed an eternity, even if it was less than an hour later. He slumped in the chair in front of the desk, tired, and for once Outlook let slide the lack of respect.
“So?”
“I don’t know who cured your son in the first place, but I recognize an excellent work when I see one,” the doctor began. “He had several third degree burns, but most of them are healing already. Scars will remain, but he will recover entirely. He didn’t lose his sight on the left eye either.”
Outlook nodded exasperated. The matter he was interested in was another. “And his memory?”
“Gone,” the doctor confirmed. “The poor boy was terrified when I woke up. I gave him some sleeping pills to calm him. The best course of action would have been for you to introduce himself to him and-”
“When you said his memory is gone, what did you mean exactly?” Outlook interrupted him again.
“I should perform more exams about it, but from what I saw until now, your son lost all the memory of his past experiences,” the doctor explained. “He remembers common things like the name of the objects, but he has problems with calculations, for example.”
“Great, considering it took ages for him to learn.”
“It is unfortunate he will need to learn everything again, but his memory is working now: he recalled the men that had saved him and what they had told him about the Kingdom of Goa. He knew they were returning him home, which means his brain isn’t damaged.”
Outlook hummed. “Do you think there is a possibility for him to gain his memory back?”
“It’s hard to say,” the doctor answered. “For now, I know it’s possible, but more time passes from the loss, more difficult it becomes. I’m not an expert, but I can contact some colleagues, they have new therapies that-”
“No, you don’t understand,” Outlook interrupted him. “I do not want my son having back his memory.”
The doctor blinked, surprised. “Oh, well, this is… I’m not sure it exists a medicine that blocked entirely the process… usually people want their memory…”
“Run all the test you need and check with your colleagues. I want guarantees about it. My son will not have his memory back; am I clear about it?”
Outlook got a second change with his son, a change where he could cancel Sabo’s experience in the Gray Terminal and everything it was in his stupid head. This time, Sabo would become the man Outlook wanted him to be.
Capitolo 1
“Sabo, play again for me. Pleaseeee.”
Sabo cursed under his breath. Since Lord Fersen Jr was blabbering no stop about the travel he had made around the East Blue and even Lord Byron Jr looked enchanted by it, Sabo hoped Sarie Nentokanette’s attention was lured enough to forgot about him for the rest of the evening. And, by the gaze Lord Fersen Jr shot him, he wasn’t the only one disappointed by it.
“Of course, your highness.”
He forced a smile and reached for the box of the violin. It wasn’t his own, it was the royal family’s one, as expensive and well-marked it was. Sabo was almost scared by it, afraid of breaking it in some way. After all, his father told him many times he had no grace whatsoever.
He played, choosing one of the easier melody because he couldn’t remember the hardest ones without the score, but Nentokanette didn’t care. She lied down on his sofa, her head turned a little towards him.
“Ah! You hit the wrong note!” Lord Byron Jr exclaimed, clapping his hand. There was a cruel pleasure in his smile and Sabo gritted his teeth to resist until the end of the melody and he was grateful when it happened.
Nentokanette throw a biscuit to Lord Byron Jr. “That was mean! You ruined the music!” But she was smiling and playful, as she forgot she was the one asking for the play.
As Sabo sat down again in the armchair, he wondered if Nentokanette kept him around just to see the other two men screw up with him. Not that Sabo cared, until she called for him his father wouldn’t complain about him being a failure, so it was better than nothing, even if the evening with her were tedious.
After all, watching from the outside it was clear Lord Byron Jr and Lord Fersen Jr had a lot more in common with Nentokanette than Sabo, and they were more adamant in conquering her heart. Nentokanette already refused some of her suitors and now only the three of them remained, but their meeting became more frequent than before, with Sabo’s displeasure.
He knew some of the families whose sons had been rejected were outraged he was still in the race: the scar on his face and his reputation as a rebel were enough for the other nobles to be displeased at the thought of him becoming a member of the royal family.
So Sabo was sure Nentokanette would choose one between Byron Jr and Fersen Jr, but she kept Sabo to have fun with the nobles and everyone else. Not that Sabo expressed his guess with his father, who was in some way convinced he could have a chance.
“Well, he didn’t play bad, for a ten years old,” Lord Fersen Jr commented.
Sabo rolled his eyes: the mocks about his memory loss were getting old. “At least I have the excuse of the incident, you don’t,” he replied.
Nentokanette chuckled, just to confirm Sabo’s theory.
Lord Fersen Jr was ready for a rebuttal, but then the door opened and the crowned prince, Nentokanette’s older brother Louigis, entered. The three men jumped still when the prince had appeared.
“It’s late. The evening ends here.”
“But brother…!”
“Go to bed, Sarie.”
She pouted, then she smiled apologetically to the other men. But the chain of command was clear and Sabo, this time, was more than happy to oblige. They left the room and a couple of guards escorted them outside the palace. Sabo was the only one who didn’t have a chariot waiting for him, so before the other two could comment about it, he ran away hiding in the dark of the night.
In ten minutes, he was home. He sighed when he saw the light of the living room. Knowing that postponing the inevitable was worse, he didn’t sneak inside but he entered in the room steadily. As expected, Outlook was there, smoking a cigar.
“Good evening, father.”
“How was your meeting with princess Sarie Nentokanette?”
“Okay, I guess,” Sabo answered. “She asked me to play the violin. Trice.”
“You’re pretty bad with it,” Outlook commented. “But until she likes it it’s fine.” His piercing gaze made Sabo uncomfortable, but unable to turn away. “Do I need to remember you how much important is for your life to marry her? Especially now that your rivals are Byron and Fersen. Those families have already too much power.”
“Yes, father, I know.”
“Tomorrow I’ll call your teacher, better increasing your music lessons,” Outlook stated. “Even if it’s probably useless with you.”
And that was it. All of Sabo’s life was hiding around, hoping people won’t find him, already knowing they would. And so he covered his face, waiting for the next hit. It didn’t matter that his father had stopped to actual hit him for real: his remarks still hurt deep inside. He just hoped to being left alone. Or, at least, that he could be saved from most hits.
“Now go to bed, in the morning we had to go to the port to check our last shipping so you must wake up early.”
“Yes, father.” Sabo was about to leave, when he remembers. “What about Fire Fist’s execution? Do we have any news?”
Outlook snored. “Pirates shouldn’t be your concern.”
“It’s not about pirates,” Sabo replied, rolled his eyes. “It’s about our world. What if Whitebeard go there and fight the marine and win? What will happen to us then?”
“There is no way the marine will lose, so rest assured about it. Nothing will ever change for us.” But since Sabo wasn’t convinced, he added, “the execution is schedule for three PM, so we’ll have news tomorrow morning. Now go.”
***
As Outlook had expected, the morning newspaper reported the death of Fire Fist and the victory of the marines. He didn’t read the entire article, he wasn’t interested enough, but at least that should reassure Sabo and avoid any other uninteresting conversation.
So he placed the newspaper just in front to Sabo’s spot at the table, hoping that would skip the question and hasten the breakfast. They had work to do.
As soon as Sabo entered in the room, his attention turned from the food to the newspaper.
“You’re late,” Outlook commented. “I told you yesterday we should be at the port soon.” And Sabo wasn’t even listening, he sat down and grab the newspaper with a hand and a piece of bread with the other.
“Oh, no, Sabo, do not read at the table, isn’t respectable for a gentleman,” said his mother, in vain.
Stelly snickered. “Can I go with you instead, daddy?”
“Not today,” Outlook answered. “Until your brother manages to marry into the royal family, he needs to take care of the family business.”
“Oh, come on! He’s very bad at it!”
“I said no.”
Stelly’s rebuttal was interrupted by Sabo’s scream. The attention of the entire family, alongside with the servant, was on him. He had jumped up, chair falling behind him, the newspaper gripped with a hand, tears streamed down his face and his mouth opened in that endless scream who pierced the room.
Only when the sound extinguished itself, and Sabo collapsed on the floor, the other were able to move again. Outlook hurried at his son’s side and shook him. His skin burned and he was motionless. His breath was so low it was hard to notice.
“Call the doctor! Now!” Outlook ordered at the butler, that nodded and left the room in a flash. Stelly and his mother were still paralyzed in their spot, so Outlook remained on the ground next to Sabo, checking if his condition change in some way.
But nothing happened until the doctor arrived. The butler helped to move Sabo back to his bed and Outlook waited outside while the doctor checked him.
“So?” he almost roared, as the doctor left the room.
His son’s good health was one of his few qualities, and now he lost it too? This couldn’t be happening!
The doctor shook his head. “He’s in a coma, but I have no idea what caused it. No ill causes this sudden fever, especially with no other symptoms. I can’t say more, not until I perform more exams.”
“What?” Outlook was speechless.
“My best suggestion is to supervise him to see if his condition changes in some way, until, I hope, my test will give me some answers. I will bring an IV if the coma state persist-”
“You are an incompetent!” Outlook yelled, understanding at the end the doctor couldn’t heal Sabo right away. “I’m not paying you for not having answers! Get out of here, you and your test!”
But not even the doctor of the royal family, that Nentokanette send as soon as she learned about Sabo’s illness, could find out which disease he contracted. The exams showed he was in a good health, except for the high fever and the fact he didn’t wake up.
***
It took three days for Sabo to recover. When he opened his eyes, the world around him was so unnatural, so different, he had problems to focus. He registered absent-mindedly the small gulp of the maid who was supervising him, and her run to search for the master. And so he did when his father arrived to check he was awake and his order to call the doctor.
He needed time to realize it wasn’t a dream. To realize his actual life and the ten years he had forgot were mashing up together. To realized he had been living in a lie for so long. To realize his brother is now dead.
The doctor arrived and Sabo didn’t even notice he wasn’t the usual one. He let him checking his condition without a word, until the doctor had to ask, “are you feeling well, Lord Sabo?”
No. No, I’m not feeling well, my brother just died and I remembered his existence just a minutes ago and my father is a bastard that lied to me my entire life and I’m still here in this place I hate with people I hate and I’m becoming one of them and this is disgusting
“You should tell me, doctor,” he said.
The doctor nodded and smiled. “I have no reason to believe you’re still ill. We do not know what you caught, so I will perform more exams. We need to avoid it happens again.”
It wouldn’t, Sabo knew, but he let the doctor take some blood samples and he was grateful when he was left alone in the room. He lied in the bed again, feeling the tears came back to him, but he rested for too long. He jumped up, the anger warmed inside him. He opened the box of the violin and it smashed it on the ground, stomped on it until he destroyed it entirely. Then he threw away the books in the library and everything that was on the desk. He was about to destroy the painting at the wall, when his father entered the room.
“What the hell are you doing, Sabo?” he snorted. “Damn that doctor, he said you were fine.”
“No, I’m not fine, and you’re a bastard and I hate you and I hate this place and I want to see it on fire!”
He saw the fear in Outlook’s eyes, but before he could punch him in the face as he deserved, Outlook ran away calling for help. It took all the guards of the house to stop Sabo so the doctor could give him a sedative.
When Sabo woke up again, his anger had drained off, replaced by the sadness. Revenge on his father was replaced by the guilty of having forgotten about his brother for ten years, let aside not been there for Ace when he needed him the most.
The door of his room was locked, and there was bars again at the window. Sabo found out he didn’t even care. Everything was lost. All those years he just survived hiding and endured when he couldn’t hide anymore made him survived, but at what price? He protected his face, but he had scars all over his arms.
The doctor came to check on him multiple times and in the end he concluded the three days of coma and the nightmare the fever caused were the reason of his strange outburst. Outlook still looked at Sabo with suspicion, but in the end he had no basis to confirm there was another reason behind Sabo’s statement.
And Sabo decided he wouldn’t let him know. His memory, his brothers, were only for him.
So he did what he’s used to: taking the hit with his arms, hoping to protect all the rest of him.
“I’m sorry, father. I don’t know what happened to me.”
“It’s fine, as long as you recovered now. Do you think you can walk?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Go shower, you stink. Have lunch and then go at the royal palace. Princess Nentokanette sent her personal doctor only for you and that’s definitely something. Do not miss this opportunity.”
“Yes, father.”
Sabo showered and had lunch, just as Outlook ordered, but when he left the house he didn’t walk towards the royal palace. Instead, he took the route for the lower town and then he passed the gate of the high wall that separated the city from the Gray Terminal. The guards looked at him surprised, but since they couldn’t speak with a noble without permission, they didn’t stop him.
The Grey Terminal was exactly as he remembered it, even if the fire should have burned it down. Probably it was rebuilt after the Celestial Dragon’s visit. Sabo’s scar burned and the hard smell of the place brought back memories, making difficult for him walk steady. But he didn’t stop until he reached the forest and then he proceeded in its core, where the tree-house he, Ace and Luffy had built.
It was still there, even if the sign of the time showed in the missing planks. Sabo stood below it, his arms lied at his next and his look fixed in the small house.
“Sabo? Sabo, is that you?”
“Eeeh?! Sabo? Where is he? Oh, it’s Sabo, is really him! Saaaaboooo!”
Sabo, surprised by hearing his name, turned his head only to be grabbed by two boys. The move scared him, but the guards were fast enough to take him back. Once free, Sabo grabbed his father’s pants, hiding behind his legs.
“Let us go!”
“You again,” his father snorted. “I told you to stay away.” He addressed to the guards. “For how long you will let these rascal entering in the high town?”
“We apologize, my lord. It won’t happen again.”
“I sure hope so.”
Sabo was looking at the two boys as the struggled to break free from the guards’ grip. They were dirty, covered in bandages and their clothes were torn in more places. Why they knew his name? Who they were? Were they from that scared place the Grey Terminal was?
“Sabo!” The one with the straw hat scream. “Help us!”
“Sabo! We thought you were dead! I cried for you!” the one with the freckles added.
“You did?”
“Luffy, this is not the moment!”
Outlook shot a look at the guards and they hurried to drag the boys away. Sabo turned his head from the freckles one’s gaze, hiding behind his father. Once they were far and their screams not audible anymore, Outlook kneeled down and gripped Sabo’s shoulder with a hand, caressing his head with the other.
“Do you know who they are?”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember.”
“That’s better,” Outlook said. “They are the reason you were kidnapped by the pirates in the first place.”
“Really, father?”
“Yes. They promised you to be your friend, but the only thing they are interested in is your money. Never trust the poor people.”
“They weren’t my friends.”
“No, Sabo, they weren’t. They convinced you to run away from your house, so the pirates could catch you and they could have a portion of the ransom. They let the pirate hurt you because they didn’t care. You almost die because of them. If it weren’t for them, you wouldn’t be so hurt.”
“So… they’re evil.”
“Yes. Never get near them ever again.”
“I won’t, father.”
Last time Sabo saw his brother and he turned away the gaze from him.
He believed his father. He endured and endured his harsh words, even if was scared by them, because he believed he was his family. But it wasn’t true.
That damn bastard…
Sabo fell on his knees, and he screamed and cried and sobbed, his forehead pressed against the ground and his arm mashed against his stomach to contain the huge to vomit. He stopped only when the fatigue wore him out and the throat burned too much.
He rested in the same position, panting to regain control of his body. Only when his breath returned normal, he felt he wasn’t alone anymore. He jumped still and turned around.
“Dadan…”
She was at the end of the clearing. Sabo wiped off the tears on his face with the back of his hand as she drew near.
“I was told you were still alive, but since Ace and Luffy’s behaved as nothing happened I believed it was a mistake…”
Another sob escaped from Sabo’s throat. “I shouldn’t be here…”
Dadan shoved the newspaper she had in his arms. Sabo, perplex, opened it: there was an articles about Luffy, that basically confirmed he was still alive and well. Relief feel upon Sabo, as he hugged the newspaper and the tears streamed down his cheek once again.
“Let’s go,” Dadan said.
After a moment of uncertainty, Sabo followed her. They returned to the gang’s house, that hadn’t change a little bit since he was a child. He saw the surprised look from the other men, but Dadan’s gestures were enough to keep them away. She brought Sabo in the main room and offered him alcohol to drink.
“So… How are you doing?” she asked him, as he finished the glass in one sip.
Sabo told her everything, about his memory loss after the Celestian Dragon has shot down his ship and how his father had taken advantage to the situation, inventing a story about him being captured and tortured by the pirates because of Ace and Luffy’s actions, managing to keep Sabo away from them and at the same time avoid any other escaping attempt; and how he had regained his memory after reading about Ace’s death on the newspaper.
He felt better after telling the entire story to another person.
Dadan didn’t comment further. He left the room without a word and, when she came back, she had some albums with her. It was a collection of articles about Ace and Luffy, all classified by date. Sabo smiled, remembering how she had refused to acknowledge she actually liked them back in the past.
Sabo scrolled the pages, reading the articles again and again. Ace was smiling in his wanted poster. Sabo hoped he had been happy in the last ten years. Luffy had done some crazy stuff, which wasn’t surprising.
“What are you going to do?” Dadan asked, when Sabo finally put down the album. It was already evening.
“I don’t know,” Sabo admitted.
His first thought had been punch his father and then leave that house for good, but now it didn’t seem a good idea. Too much time had passed since he was the child who had liked to become a pirate and written a book about that. His father let him taking fencing and boxes lesson, at least, but Sabo wasn’t strong enough. That ten years lost weighed him down, and so did the scars of all the strikes he endured.
At the same time, he couldn’t stay in that house. He just couldn’t take any more hits.
He actually wanted to go out from his hideout and started fighting back.
“I will think about it,” he assured her. “But I’ll make my father pay, that’s for sure.”
Capitolo 2
The letter arrived when the entire family was having dinner. As soon as the butler announced it was from Princess Nentokanette, Outlook leaned to grab it even if it was for Sabo, who shuddered and kept eating. Outlook teared apart the envelope and read the letter, then sighed.
“You’re lucky,” he commented to Sabo, throwing the letter at him.
Sabo’s attention was all on his plate, so the letter landed slowly near his glasses. Stelly took the change to grab it.
“What is it, dear?” Lady Outlook asked.
“A formal invitation for Sabo to join the Princess on a cruise she will do on the weekend,” Stelly explained, with his voice that didn’t hide the annoyance. “I thought she hates you since you don’t even bother to thank her for her kindness, big bro.”
“Guess you’re wrong,” Sabo murmured, not looking at him.
Stelly snored. “You will screw up sooner or later.”
“No, he won’t.” Outlook’s voice meant it wasn’t a hope but an order.
“A cruise…” Lady Outlook murmured. “So the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?” Outlook asked.
“Well, honey, you know that our crown prince hasn’t get married yet. They said the king is a lot worried about having an heir for the kingdom.”
“Yeah, and the crown prince’s preference are well known, even if nobody will ever admit that.”
Lady Outlook nodded. “That’s why the marriage of the princess is the only way. The king let her doing how she pleases until now, but it looks he’s urging her to make her final choice about her future husband. So rumors said she will have a last occasion to test the suitors before getting married.”
“So, the cruise?”
“Yes. Lady Fersen was buying new clothes for his son yesterday, so I’m guessing she knew from the start. After all, she’s the sister of the royal palace’s housekeeper.”
“So this is your last change, Sabo. I don’t have to repeat you-”
“No, you don’t,” Sabo cut him. “You repeat it every damn time.”
Lady Outlook and Stelly blinked at him. Sabo had always been the rebel type, but he had stopped talking back to his father years ago. That behavior was uncommon.
Outlook stood up. “Sabo. In my office. Now.”
“I’m eating.”
“Not anymore. NOW,” Outlook repeated, with higher voice.
With an annoyed sigh, Sabo stood up and followed his father in the office. As soon as the door closed behind them, Outlook slapped him. Sabo bit his lips and squeezed his fist, looking at him with hatred.
“I’m tired of your attitude.” Outlook didn’t pay attention. “You’re bad at everything. You don’t understand a thing about economy, or math, or even human relationship. The only way you have to bring honor to this family is to marry the princess. Which is, incidentally, the only thing that you grasp somehow. I won’t let you ruin it, you understand me?”
Sabo licked his lips. He breathed hard, but then let his head fall on his chest. “I’m sorry, father… It’s just…” he swallowed. “I’m in love with the princess and…”
Outlook blinked. “What?”
“I-I know it’s supposed to be just business but I really like her and the thought that is my last chance… And if she won’t choose me I probably won’t…”
That was great. Outlook had the impression Sabo found the princess an annoyance and that it was almost a miracle she had some interest in him, but Sabo’s confession changed everything. For the first time, Outlook was sure Sabo would fight for something he really wanted. And hopefully, for the first time, he could succeed.
“It’s okay, son.” He patted him on the shoulder. “You’re worried, I get it. But you can fight for her. This… feeling… could be a positive thing. Used it on the cruise and I’m pretty sure she will notice too.”
Sabo nodded. “I hope you’re right, father.”
“I am. Now let’s go back at the table.”
And as Sabo followed him, Outlook noticed he cleaned the palm of his hands to his pants. The nail had pierced the skin when he had pressed the fists.
***
To be fair honest, Sabo wasn’t so annoyed about the entire cruise affair because, of course, it was a cruise! Even for a few days, he would be on a ship in the sea and that made the entire situation a little be sufferable for him. Until now, his father had never allowed him near a ship for too long, to avoid another escape.
“Do you understand everything, Sabo? Are you even listening?”
“Yes, yes.”
His father was giving him his last advice about how to act with the princess while his luggage was loaned, but Sabo’s attention was already on the sailing ship that was waiting for him and he was relieved when the captain approached him. He said bye to his family in a second and hurried on board.
“Welcome, Lord Sabo,” the captain greeted him. “One of our maid will escort you to your cabin. Later on I’ll show you and the other guests the ship, as our princess asked.”
“That will be a pleasure!”
Sabo shot a smile at the red haired maid, who made a gesture with her hand, showing him the path. They left the deck bow and climbed down two flight of stairs, until they reached a small hallway. Four doors were there, and another one at the end of the hallway.
“This is the guests’ quartier,” the maid explained. “And the last room over there is the princess’ one. This one is yours.” And she opened the door.
Sabo walked in and gave an unimpressed look around. The only thing that caught his attention was the big windows that allowed him to see the sea. As he heard the door closing, he turned around and blinked when he noticed the maid was still inside. And she was looking around, suspicious.
“Can… can I do something for you?” Sabo asked.
“No. I can do something for you.” She smirked. “I’m Koala from the Revolutionary Army.”
Sabo gasped. He had tried to contact them since he had remembered the man he had met as a child and he had connected him to the leader of the revolution, but he never received an answer and he thought he wasn’t able to reach them. After all, they were the most wanted people in the world, finding them wasn’t an easy task.
But now one of them was in front of him.
“Finally!” Overwhelming by the joy, Sabo hugged her. “Ah… sorry…” he murmured, embarrassed, as he noticed her stiffness, and move aside.
“It’s okay.”
“So?” Sabo looked at her with expectation, as a dog who waited for his owner to thrown the ball.
“Dragon-san send his regards,” Koala began. “He’d like to be here, but unfortunately he can’t move around so easily anymore. He wants to tell you he remembers and he’s sorry he brought you back to your family ten years ago.”
“Yeah…” Sabo wondered how much his life could have been changed if Dragon’s decision would have been different.
“Back then, it looked as a good idea. You were hurt. Dragon-san didn’t mean any harm for you.”
Sabo shook his head. “Let’s not talk about the past. When can we leave? What can I do?”
“Dragon-san has no problem with you joining us, but he’d like to you to remain an external allied, acting for us as a member of the nobility.”
“He wants me to stay here?” Sabo’s eyes and mouth widened.
“Yes,” Koala nodded. “He said you’ll be more useful in this way.”
“I can’t stay here!” Sabo walked around in the room. “He knows my biggest fear is becoming like… them,” he almost spat the word, “and I spend ten years here and I fear it’s too late now and I don’t think I can take it anymore…” He looked at Koala like a lost puppy. “Do you have any idea what it means stay day by day with people that disgust you so deeply you’d prefer to rip your entire skin because of them?”
At first, Koala didn’t answer. He turned around and lifted her white shirt, to reveal her bare back and the sun tattoo that was there.
“What is this?” Sabo asked, unable to turn the eyes from it.
“It’s the Sun Pirates’ flag. Fisher Tiger used it as a symbol because it covers entirely the mark of the Celestial Dragon,” Koala explained. “They had a habit, they marked all their slaves so they’ll be theirs for all their lives. But this tattoo… It frees us.”
Sabo’s throat was dry. “Slavery is illegal.”
“Not for the Celestial Dragon,” Koala replied. “They are above the law in everything. Believe me, I know. I may have been a slave for only a couple of years, but they were enough.”
Sabo slumped on the bed. So little he knew of the world outside the wall of Goa, and so small his problems became. After all, all his hits were made mostly by words.
Koala lowered back the shirt and returned to face him. “Listen, Sabo, I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but Dragon-san thinks you can do the difference as a member of the royalty. We, as Revolutionary Army, can’t save the world with brute force only. We need the people to save themselves,” she said. “If you stay here, you can help your people. Avoiding something like the fire of the Grey Terminal to happen again. Because you’re not like them.”
Not like them… but for how long? How much he could take anymore before giving up and turning in one of them?
“You don’t have to decide now,” Koala continued. “I will be here until the end of the cruise and if you think you can’t stay, I’ll bring you with me.”
“Will you?”
“Yes, but not before you’re sure there’s no other way.” And with that, she left, leaving Sabo alone in the room.
Sabo lied down on the bed. His eyes burned and he covered them with his arm. The discussion with Koala made one thing clear: he had called the Revolutionary Army for help, hoping they would come for him in his hideout and fighting whoever was trying to hurt him.
He never thought, not even for an instant, how he could help them, that there could be other people out there waiting for someone to protect them, as they tried at least to save their face. He was expecting the revolutionaries to do all the work.
But he can’t remain a second more in that damn town… can he?
He felt like was suffocating, so he jumped still and left the room. He climbed the stairs but, hearing some voices on the bow, he took a different route until he found the stern deck. He grabbed the railing, leaning his head to the sea. With the air on his face and the smell of the salt, he breathed again.
“Here you are! You don’t even say hello, you bad boy.”
Sabo turned around to see Nentokanette approaching him, with her usual awfully overwrought dress and her smirk. He looked at her, his mind racing too fast. Helping people was worth the price to endure her presence? Will he be able to remain himself?
He could say the truth. Say fuck you to all that and run away with Koala.
Instead, he lied. He lied straightforward, as he had done with his father few days before.
“I apologize, my princess, but I was too ashamed of myself I was scared to meet you.”
“But why?”
“You were so kind, sending your personal doctor when I was sick, so I’d like to thank you in a very special way. A way that would have showed how much I was thankful, and how much you’re important to me,” Sabo explained. “I’d didn’t plan to see you before that but then your invite arrived and… I felt so stupid…”
Nentokanette laughed. “You’re so cute. But do not worry: there’s nothing I don’t possess already, so you probably wouldn’t have found anything to give me.”
“I’m still deeply sorry for that.”
“You’re forgiven only if you won’t leave my side for the rest of the cruise.”
“That will be my pleasure.”
Nentokanette smiled satisfied. “Now, the captain would like to give you and the others a tour of the ship. It’s mine, you know? My father gave me last year as a birthday’s gift.”
She kept talking about it, but Sabo wasn’t listening anymore.
He finally understood why Dragon would prefer for him to stay in Goa. He had realized, even before Sabo, that was too late. Sabo was already one of them.
And he couldn’t turn back anymore.
He could just stop hiding, stop protecting his face, and start striking back.
***
“Oh, lucky you’re here.” Sabo entered and closed the door of his room with a conspiratorial air.
Koala blinked and stopped making the bed.
“Nentokanette made me promise I won’t leave her side so I lied and tell her I need to pee but it was the only way we could talk.”
“I’m not sure I want the detail.” Koala shook her head. “How can I help you?”
Sabo’s eyes moved around the room. “Okay, let’s make it simple,” he said in the end. “I can’t help the revolution if I remain as I am, so the only solution is for me to marry the princess. Are you following me?”
Koala nodded. “Being a member of the royal family will give you more freedom to help the people of the kingdom.”
“And here’s my problem: how I manage to do that?”
“Well…”
“Until now I d0n’t care, but truth to be told, I think Nentokanette is keeping me here only for fun and she already decided who to marry. And I have three days to change her mind. But how? I’m telling you, I’m really bad at this.”
“And you’re asking me because…?”
“You’re a woman, so I was thinking…”
Koala smiled and shook her head. “Sabo, women haven’t the same brain. And I’m pretty sure my preference about men are pretty different from your girlfriend-to-be.”
“Yeah, well, I guess you’re right.” Sabo shuddered. “It was worth a try. It’s not I have other ideas.”
“None at all?”
“I can take example from Byron and Fersen, and fawned over her, but I’m not very convincing in complimenting people.”
“Okay. What can you do?”
“Fight.”
“I don’t think that will help you.”
“Indeed.” Sabo sighed. “My career as revolutionary is already ending.”
“Maybe not.” Koala returned his attention back to the bed. “I may be a lot different from the princess, but I’ve met people like her in the past. I don’t think she’s keeping you only for fun.”
“For what reason, then?”
“Because you don’t fawn over her like the others,” she answered. “People who have almost everything lure towards things they can’t have. I have a hunch she feels you’re not really interested in her and that upsets her.”
Sabo reflected about it. “But she can have me. She knows I can’t refuse if she chooses me.”
“Then let her believe you may, until she will do only to show herself that she wins over you.”
“So being evasive and uninterested in her as much as I can?” Sabo grinned. “That’s definitely something I can do!”
“Good. Now go and let me finish my work.”
“As you order. Bye.”
Sabo returned on the main deck with a smile on his face. Koala was the first person in years she could talk with freedom. She shared his opinion on a lot of things and she didn’t care about his rudeness. It was the oxygen he needed to tolerate the rest of the cruise.
He was about to sit down next to Nentokanette, when he noticed the captain was there, looking at the sea with the binoculars, and two guards were with him. Following the gaze, he caught the glimpse of another ship coming in their direction.
“Is that a pirate ship?” he asked, with a lot more excitement than necessary. He couldn’t see the mark, but the flag at the mast was black.
“Pirates?” Nentokanette yelled terrified.
“There’s no need to worry.” The captain approached them. “There’s nothing we can’t manage, but only for precaution I suggest for your highness and your graces to go back to your cabin.”
Nentokanette bit his lips, showing her displeasure for leaving her sunbath because of pirates, but in the end she obeyed. As they walked, Byron and Fersen reassured her about the situation, while Sabo looked around. The captain sent the guards with them so he was sure they would close themselves in the room, which made Sabo guess the situation wasn’t so easy as the captain would like them to believe.
So Sabo locked the door as the guard demanded, but then he turned his attention on the big window. He opened it and checked outside. There was another window above, that Sabo recognized as the kitchen’s one. Fortunately, it was opened, and Sabo was positive he could reach it.
So he jumped on the windowsill and then pushed himself high using the same window as level. He grabbed the kitchen’s windowsill with both his hand. He gritted his teeth as he used the force of his arm to move his entire body and threw himself inside. The landing was on his back and he held back a yell.
He got back on his feet and he left the room, choosing the left side of the hallway, the one that brought to the stern desk. From there, he climbed on the terrace of the dining room, which was the higher room of the ship, just near the mast.
Sabo heard some yells as she walked, so he remained behind a wall, spying the situation from afar. His suspicious turned out to be real: the pirate ship boarded theirs and a dozens of pirates where now on the main desk. The guards of the ship lied down on the ground and Sabo hoped they weren’t too hurt. To their defense, they were lesser than the pirates, because Nentokanette had prefer reserved their spot to other staff members that could make the trip more comfortable. The usual arrogance of the royal.
On the right side, the people of the staff sat quietly along with the captain. They weren’t tied up, but the pirates watched them closely. Sabo located Koala in the middle of them: he supposed she was trying to keep a low profile.
The pirate captain, as Sabo guessed, sat down on the railing, grinning. Then Sabo’s attention was caught by the yells and, a second later, three pirates compared from the below deck, dragging Nentokanette, Byron and Fersen with them. They were tossed on the ground, as one of the pirates reached their captain, a package in his hand.
“Look what we found out, boss.”
Sabo cursed: he couldn’t see clearly what was inside the package, but form the color that brightened in the sun, he realized they were jewels. Since it was a private cruise, none of them had money with them, neither the ship transported valuable merchandise for pirates. But of course Nentokanette couldn’t travel without her jewels and Sabo had the feeling some of them were owned by Fersen and Byron too.
But maybe it was their luck. It was a good prey from a pirates’ perspective, so hopefully they would be satisfied with that. Sabo’s memory returned back at the time he and Ace had collected their own loot to buy a ship.
“They aren’t bad,” the captain smirked, after finishing to rummage in the package. “Look we found a ship with very important people on board.” He turned his gaze and bared his teeth, predatory. “So, which one of you three highborn is the most important?”
As much as the nobles were good in lying to each other, they were bad in hiding things to people who weren’t from their social class. Sabo had no doubt the pirates would find soon Nentokanette was a princess, so he looked around for a weapon. He found out a broom leaning against the wall. Not the best weapon of choice, but it looked closed enough to his pipe.
He took it and jumped on the upper desk, in the same moment as one of the pirates grabbed Nentokanette by her hair to drag her towards the other ship. Sabo hit him with the far end of the broom. His nose broken and he left the grip on Nentokanette, who feel on the ground.
He stumped behind, which gave Sabo the occasion to hit him again in the legs so that he crashed behind.
Sabo put on a brave face, but the pirates, after a moment of stupor, burst out laughing. “He’s gonna sweep us to death?” one of them commented.
The captain smirked. “So there was another of these nobleman here.” He looked at his men and added, “let’s not miss important thing next time.” His attention turned back to Sabo. “Now, pansy, put down that dangerous weapon. I’m only interested in your little friend behind you. Unless, of course, you’re more important than her. Are you?”
Nentokanette trembled, but Sabo smirked. “Yes. Now come and try to take me.”
The pirate captain was taken aback from the answer: he was sure Sabo would sell her just as the other two. So Sabo took advantage of it and hit one of the pirate nearby with a punch in the face, the used it as a shield to cover himself from the shots of another. He threw the broom to disarmed him, then jumped to kick him and recollect his weapon.
“Are you playing? Stop him right now!” the pirate captain yelled, and Sabo found himself surrounded by pirates. But he wasn’t scared, no, he was excited. Happy, even. His last fight went back to his childhood with Ace and Luffy. That was a good time. Sabo wasn’t made for a comfortable life, he was made for the war. After remaining hiding for so long, he almost forgot he could actually fight back.
He was ready to attack, when Koala ordered him: “Lower down!”
He obeyed: a second later, a powerful wave passed above him, pushing the pirates apart and against the railing. Sabo stood up and Koala was at his next, back against back.
“What was that?” Sabo whispered to her, unable to contain his excitement.
“Fisherman karate.”
“Fishwhat?”
“I’ll explain later, now we have other things to do.” But she was smiled. “If Dragon-san scolded me because of this, it’s on you.”
“Okay!”
He would take the blame any time if that meant fighting with her. Koala grabbed some of the weapons of the defeated pirates and passed them to the other members of the staff.
“Come on, guys, let’s send back these pirates where they belong.”
“Nice,” Sabo commented, as he kicked the man in front of him.
With the help of the other people, and with Sabo and Koala leading the group, they were able to pushed back the pirates, until their captain ordered the retreat. He brought with him the package with the jewels, but Sabo’s attention was more on the happy screams of the people around him as the pirate ship sailed away.
He exchanged a look with Koala. The Revolutionary Army was great.
“Captain,” he called. “Do we have any injured? I think the first think should be check the guards. We should call the marines.”
“Of course, my lord.” The captain felt natural for Sabo giving order and hurried to obey. He called for the help of the ship’s doctor and with the other people they transported the injured to the below desk.
Sabo noticed Nentonakette was still on the ground, observing the situation with wide eyes. With a last look to Koala, he moved towards her. “Are you harmed, your highness?”
She blinked, as she was half asleep, then she threw herself at Sabo. She hugged him and grabbed his back, sinking her long nails in his shirt.
“Saaaaabooooo! You saved me! You’re my hero!”
And that sealed Sabo’s fate.
Capitolo 3
Sabo looked at his face in the mirror. He felt he didn’t recognize himself. With a sigh, he leaned his forehead on the wall and gave a couple of small hits.
The marriage ceremony had been terrible, a lot worse than everything Sabo was used to sustain. And it was just the beginning. He stopped hiding, maybe, but he felt that was even worse: the hits kept coming. They would be not more from his father’s displeasure, by from the other nobles’ hatred. But they wouldn’t be less painful.
“You know what?” he said, turning his head at the crow standing at the opened window. “What irked me the most wasn’t that stupid ceremony and not even all the displeased look of the guests. I hate them too.” He paused, but the crow looked at him and didn’t spoke. “It was my father that irked me more. His smile… He’s happy. He got what he wants. That’s just not fair.”
Since the crow remained silent, Sabo returned to hit the wall with his head.
“Sorry, you probably saw a lot worse than this and I’m being a whiny child.”
“The fact that there’s worse should not invalidated how you feel,” the crow spoke at last. “We know it’s hard for you and we will support you as much as we can.”
Sabo’s lips softened in a smile. “Thank you, Karasu.” Even if he didn’t even know the real aspect of the crow, even if he only met few people from the Revolutionary Army, he was pleasant knowing there were people out there helping him.
“Now, I can’t stay more,” Karasu continued. “These are for you.” He delivered Sabo a letter and a small sack filled with red pills. “The letter is from Dragon-san, with his advice how to move next. I suggest you to destroy it as soon as you read it.”
Sabo felt his hand warm as he rubbed the paper of the envelope. “Do you know the content?”
“Yes, but not in details.”
Sabo nodded. “And the pills?”
“It’s a contraceptive made by Iva-san. He suspected you’ll prefer not involving children in all this. Take one of it every night and you’ll be fine.”
Sabo shivered. He wasn’t so naïve not having think about the consequence of a marriage in the royal family, but speaking about it made it real. And horrible. He didn’t wait for Karasu to add anything else and swallowed one of the pills without the help of the water.
“Now I’ll leave. Call us anytime, Sabo.”
He nodded. “Thank you.” He looked at the crow until his figure disappeared in the night, then closed the window. He read the letter of Dragon and appreciated it gave not only orders but also reassurance words. It was somehow ironic Dragon could manage to be better in just one letter than his father in his entire life.
As Karasu suggested, he burned the letter in the fireplace and then, with a sigh, he climbed the stairs that connected his room to Nentokanette’s.
***
“You’re late,” were the first words Outlook reserved to his son as he got in the carriage. “I saw the others, they’re already on the way.”
Sabo rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, they won’t begin without us.”
“Of course.” Nentokanette drew near and grabbed his arm. “This is your day after all.”
“Everyone is speaking about that,” Lady Outlook commented. “Everybody came to me for that, it was wonderful. Well, I would have appreciated more if you told something about this project of you…”
“Mother, this was too much important to be used by you only for gossip.” Sabo’s words were harsh, so she huffed.
“I understand, of course I do…”
“Wonder how much you’ll screw up…” Stelly muttered under his breath, but not low enough to not be heard.
Oh, I will screw you up a lot. You can’t even imagine. But Sabo remained silent. His father’s eyes were on him and he didn’t want to give away any suspicious. For everything else, the Grey Terminal was just a garbage mountain, for Sabo was his home. Outlook knew it better and there was no doubt in Sabo’s mind that the project he had made to resolve the problem of that place once and for all raised some suspicious in Outlook’s mind. Luckily, Sabo doubted Outlook realized he had his memory back.
Silence filled the carriage as it travelled from the high town towards the majestic walls that isolated the area of the Grey Terminal. Once it stopped, Sabo moved the tent and looked outside: all the other carriages were already there, parked in a large covered area he recognized as the main hall of the industry Sabo had built. The owner of the company, Mister Stark, was there, at the entrance, waiting for everyone to appear.
“Well, it didn’t stink,” Nentokanette admitted. “I was a little bit worried about that… I can’t say it smells goods but it’s better than I thought.”
“Yeah, well, that was the point.” Sabo offered her his arm and, once she leaned to him, he left the carriage.
“Your highness!” Stark smiled under his whiskers and he moved next to him. The shook hands.
“Thank you for accepting my request of this personal tour of your company,” Sabo said.
“It was necessary. I appreciated all your efforts to make this possible.” Stark moved his attention to Nentokanette. “Your Highness, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” And bowed.
“Who is he?” Nentokanette asked to Sabo, not paying attention at the man at all.
“It’s Tony Stark, general manager of the Stark Industry,” Sabo introduced him. “He’s the owner of this place and he helped me taking care of the Grey Terminal’s problem.”
“I see,” Nentokanette said, but she didn’t look as she understood was going on. Sabo held back a smirk. Barely.
“Are we waiting for someone else?” Stark asked, as he looked around at all the carriage parked there, since nobody else had yet got out from them.
“Well, the crown prince.” Sabo made a gesture with his eyebrow, to indicate that of course he was the last one to arrive, since he couldn’t be left behind. Starks nodded with understanding.
They didn’t wait for long: after ten minutes a carriage bigger and more opulent than the others entered in the main hall and, ignoring the parking spot and the mangers that were prepared for the horses, it stopped in the center of the hall.
Prince Louigis appeared, looking around with a frown on his face. “So this is your big idea for the Grey Terminal?” He sounded skeptical.
“This is only the main entrance,” Sabo explained calm. “Mister Stark here will show you what’s behind everything, if you may.”
“Your royal highness,” Stark said with a bow, to show Louigis he was there.
Louigis looked at him not entirely convinced, then clapped his hands. “The prince granted you permission to enter. And to Mister Stark to introduce us at his big project of my brother-in-law here.”
Only then the door of the carriage opened and the nobles inside got down from them. After a bow directly to the prince, they aligned behind him, from the most prominent family, which in that moment was Sabo’s only family, since he was the husband of the current princess. Sabo shot a glare: there were all the most important noble of Goa, including Fersen and Byron.
Good. He would appreciate seeing their face too as they would understand what Sabo had done in the Grey Terminal.
“If I may.” Stark indicated the path with a small gesture of his hands, and Louigis followed him, with Sabo and Nentokanette just behind him and then the others nobles.
They climbed a large stair that leaded at the first floor of the building, where Stark arranged a meeting room with some posters about his company. Since the building was built with modern style, with a lot of glass and iron and not decoration at all, Sabo didn’t miss the unconvinced look from the other nobles and he smirked.
He liked that style.
“First of all, I’d like to thank you for coming here today, and especially His Highness Sabo to allow me to build one of my fabric here.” Stark stopped next to one of the poster. “My company takes all the garbage and, when possible, turned them in new objects.”
Shock appeared on everyone’s face. “How is it possible?” Louigis asked.
“Well, takes for example a broken bottle. The glass can be sterilized, melted and then shaped in another bottle. Same can be said for paper.”
“This is disgusting!” Nentokanette gulped. “Thinking of using something like that…”
Stark smiled gentle at her. “Of course, my objects aren’t reserved for people like you. They’re cheaper and the ideal for people with few economic means.”
Nentokanette still looked disgusted. Louigis frowned: “So you take the garbage for free and then gain money selling again the product?”
“Not for free, I have an agreement with prince Sabo about it,” Stark explained. “I bought the land for the factory and I’ll give the kingdom a percentage of my incomes.”
Louigis shot a glare to Sabo, who just shuddered. The relationship between him and Stark was friendly, but at the same time there was an economical agreement, which made impossible for someone to criticize it, since it would bring value to the kingdom.
“Not all garbage can be reused.”
“Every object can be reused in a way or another.” Stark moved next to another poster. “Biodegradable things such as food remains are treated and transformed into fertilized. What can’t be recycle, it’s burned down and it becomes energy.”
He moved near a table: a big shell was on it. “This is a dial. Dial can store a large amount of energy. One of this at his fullest can warm a small town for six months.”
“We’ll have a free furniture of it, of course,” Sabo added with a satisfied smile.
Louigis glared at him. “You said you wanted to resolve the problem of the Grey Terminal.”
“And I did,” Sabo replied. “All the garbage will disappear inside this factory and we also get money from it.”
Louigis bit his lips, unable to answered back. So Stark intervened, “Your Royal Highness, would you like to see the inside of the fabric and the entire process?”
“Yes, of course.”
Stark showed the group all the four units of his fabric, and the different processes holding there. The machines weren’t in function, as Stark conceded the free day to his worker giving the visit of the noble, but he described everything with words. At the end of the tour, the climbed until the last floor, where the offices and a big covered terrace were. Stark had organized a buffet there, so when they reached it a couple of waiter were preparing the tables and served the food.
“I see no chair and no table,” Louigis commented.
“It was supposed to be a standing buffet, but no problems.” And Stark hurried to give orders to his men to arrange the terrace accordingly to the new requests.
Sabo sighed. He could have passed the first step, since the nobles and Louigis seemed to accept the entire recycling industry, even if it didn’t convince them entirely. The second step would be dangerous.
The terrace was covered by a glass dome who let the guests see the sky and the horizons. In the far, the royal palace stood up. Louigis looked at it. “So,” he said to Sabo. “If I check at the Grey Terminal troughs the windows, I shouldn’t see garbage anymore, right?”
Sabo smiled. “Definitely not, your royal highness.”
Louigis shot him a challenging look, as he was preparing himself to be disappointed and blame Sabo for this, then moved next to the glass dome and looked down. He froze. For a long minute, he was unable to speak. Then blabbered, “what does it mean?”
His tone was so shocked the other nobles, violating the etiquette, moved to see with their eyes the reason of such a confusion, and Louigis didn’t care. On their faces it appeared the same shock.
Sabo looked troughs the glass and, with an innocent smile, he asked, “What’s what?”
Louigis gesticulated, his face blue as he was unable to breath. “That!” he screamed, pointed out at the land of the Grey Terminal: the garbage mountain had been substitute by an entire new quartier.
Sabo blinked. “They’re houses. Well, most of them. I had them building also a school for the children and some shops. For the hospital, I confide they could be able to use the one we already have in town.”
His attitudes unnerved Louigis, but at the same times managed to calm him down. “Why?”
“For the people of the Grey Terminal, of course.” Sabo spoke as he found the questions stupid. And he did. “It was part of my agreement with Mister Stark, since he needs people to work in the fabric. So I offered them a work and a place where to live.”
“For free?” Louigis gritted.
“Part of their salary, each month, will be versed to the kingdom, as a partial payment for the house.” Sabo paused, to let the reply to Louigis, but then continued, “now that they have a place where to live as everyone else, they can pay taxes. The area is now free from garbage and they have no reason anymore to commit crimes. It’s safer than before.”
Louigis’ face was blue again. “You shouldn’t have.”
“I don’t see what your problem is, your royal highness,” Sabo said. He had a satisfied smile, because he noted the horrified look on his father’s face. “I understand your father has… different methods to deal with the Grey Terminal.” A gasp escaped from the nobles’ throat, as Sabo hinted at the fire of ten years before. “He preferred to burned down the problem instead of resolve it. Maybe because I believe people are a resource and not garbage.”
He smirked, as he watched the other faces. None of them would have never thought of actually helping the people of the Grey Terminal, only because they felt they’re not worthy. And now they couldn’t give Sabo a realistic explanation about why his work was wrong.
“What?” Louigis barked, not at Sabo but a woman that stood behind him. He had ignored the other waiter that were setting the tables, but he used her as an escape route from a discussion he felt he couldn’t win.
She bowed. “I apologize, your royal highness.” He turned to Sabo. “I need your confirmation about a part of your agreement with the Stark Industries. If you can come with me…”
Sabo waited for Louigis to give his permission, and he just waved his hands, with a last disgusting look at the woman. “Go.”
So Sabo left the terrace. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he sighed relieved. “Betty. You’re my savior!”
“You looked pretty distressed.”
“I am! I mean, did you hear them? They’re angry at me because I gave basic right to people!”
“What a bunch of utterly trash.” She smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You did a very good job here.”
“Thanks. But I’m not sure I would have been able to convince the people of the Grey Terminal without your help.”
“Team work!” Belo Betty raised a fist. “I’d like to tell you it’ll be easier from now on, but it’ll probably be worse.”
“I know. But I’m ready.”
“If you’ll need an injection of motivation, just call me, okay?”
Sabo definitely needed it. The positive thing of his life were now the fact that he didn’t have to protect himself anymore alone from the strikes. He had people, he had the Revolutionary Army on his side, ready to protect him and his sanity from all the shit the nobles were throwing at him.
“Well, I need it know to return back there.”
Belo Betty smiled, but he pushed him towards the door. “You’ll be fine.”
When he returned to the terrace, the others were already sitting down at the table, as the waiter served their plates. Sabo noticed Louigis reserved a table only for him and Nentokanette, who looked at him and scoffed. Sabo didn’t expect her to defend him, so he nodded and sat down at the table of his family.
“You screw up big time, big brother,” Stelly whispered at his hear.
Sabo smiled. “But did I?”
His mother looked worried. Sabo expected his father to be livid, instead he looked absorbed in his thoughts. “Why?” he asked, at last.
“I already answered.” Sabo snored.
“I mean, why did you decide to take care of the Grey Terminal? It looks… personal.”
“Of course it is, father. You should know better.” A shadow of fear passed inside Outlook’s eyes and Sabo smiled. “I was kidnapped because the garbage mountain permitted to pirates and others criminals to live here unpunished. Now they won’t have a safe place anymore. That’s all.”
If his father didn’t believe him, he didn’t show him. Sabo didn’t care. He wasn’t time to reveal the truth about his memory yet. So he ate the buffet Stark offered him without another word.
After the lunch, Stark came to give a last greeting, then the nobles returned to their carriage. Louigis dragged Nentokanette in his own, not realizing Sabo was more than happy spending time without her. For now, Sabo was safe: she couldn’t divorce from him for such a trivial matter.
The carriage left the factory and this time, all the nobles kept the tents of the windows opened, to check how the Grey Terminal turned into a fine small town.
“Please, stop here,” Sabo ordered to the charioteer when they reached the main square.
He opened the door and jumped down, ignoring his mother’s complain. He walked straight to the center: since Stark had gave them the free day, the people of the former Grey Terminal had thrown a small party to celebrate their new live. They noticed the carriages and they looked at them with a little bit of wonder and envy, but when Sabo appeared, the crowd exploded in cheers.
Sabo found himself surrounded by all the people that thanked him and hugged him and touched him and placed in his arms food they had cooked. Finally, he was dragged to the stage he was erected, next to the man who was nominate major of the area.
“Prince Sabo is here!”
The crown applauded and screamed and Sabo couldn’t hold back the smile. He opened his mouth and the crowd became silent.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “It’s your hard work that allowed me to realize all these. Thank you to all you, then. I’m in your care.”
His statement was welcomed by other happy scream. Then someone asked, “what about the walls?”
“Yeah, we’d like to go to the city freely.”
“We needs things we can find only there.”
Sabo understood their requests, but demolishing the walls wasn’t something he could do without consequences.
The crowd was so focused on Sabo they didn’t even notice Louigis had left his carriage and, with the help of two guards, had made his path to the stage. He expected to be welcomed with the same energy as Sabo, or even more since he was the future king, but only met the curious looks of the people. They had no idea who he was.
“Everyone, a big applause for Prince Louigis, the son of our king!” Sabo affirmed with high voice. “He promised to take off that walls as soon as possible, so our kingdom will be reunited together!”
The crowd applauded with enthusiasm. Instead, Louigis looked at Sabo with anger and hatred, but he knew he couldn’t deny the statement now. Sabo cheated and he was happy about it.
“Let’s go back,” he ordered.
“As you ordered, your royal highness.” But it looked Sabo was mocking him.
With a last wave at the crowd, Sabo followed Louigis. “They didn’t even recognize me! Their prince! Their future king! How dare they!”
“How many time do you show your face in front of them before? I think none,” Sabo commented, as he wasn’t talking to him. But then, before got on his carriage, he looked at him in the eyes and affirmed, “if you treat people as garbage, don’t be surprise when someone else will treat you the same.”
Sabo felt like, finally, after all that time, he delivered his first strike back.
***
Even if all the nobles stood up compared to the normal people, there was a hierarchy between them. The families that had connections with the royalty were considered more important than the others. In Goa, there were a couple of families that managed to keep this connection for all generations, and Byron and Fersen were part of them, but most of the others fought all time to gain that power and reputation trough the royal family.
Outlook had won his battle, since Sabo had managed to marry Nentokanette, and the fact he was at this point a guest at the Thursday night at the Fersen Mansion proved it. For a second, after the all Grey Terminal affair, Outlook had wondered if he could have been excluded, but it hadn’t happened.
No matter what, Sabo was married to the princess and that was enough.
So Outlook sat down in one of the armchair in the gigantic hall of the Fersen Mansion, smoking a cigar that came directly from the Red Line. He was discussing with another noble about the idea of starting a commerce with the Alabasta Kingdom, when his attention was caught by a maid, who entered in the room and whispered in Lord Fersen’s ear.
He nodded and dismissed her, then he stood up.
“Dear friends, for tonight will have a special guest,” he announced.
A couple of minutes later, Prince Louigis made his entrance in the all. All nobles stood up, but, Outlook noticed, he was the only one surprised. Two maids brought in the hall a new armchair, while another one hurried to serve to Louigis wine and food.
He gestured to the other nobles to sat down, and they obeyed, but none of them spoke. Louigis took his time to eat and drink.
“Delicious,” he said at last. “No wonder is the wine I gave you as a present,” he added to Fersen.
“Which I am deeply grateful for.”
Louigis barely nodded, then passed his gaze to all the present.
“Do not worry, my people, I won’t ruin your evening. I am here to speak about an important matter with, I’m sure, we all agree.” His eyes stopped. “Your son, Lord Outlook.”
Inside him, Outlook swore. “My son, Your Royal Highness?”
“Unfortunately, my father was too nice to that spoiled child of my sister, and he let her chose what she wanted. Clearly a mistake, but it’s too late now,” Louigis said.
Next to him, Fersen snickered and so did some of the other nobles. Contrary to them, it was the first time for the Outlook family to reach such power and authority and it was clear it wasn’t considered worthy. Outlook swallowed down his humiliation.
“We need you to keep your son on the line,” Louigis continued. “The Grey Terminal was only his first insult.”
“I heard he was planning to establish taxes for our nobles,” Fersen said. “Something along the line that richer people need to pay more.” Some scared look appeared.
“And a public university for all people,” added Byron. “Nobody should be ignorant, in his opinion. How fucked up is that? Poor don’t deserve an education.”
“It’s worse,” another noble commented. “He thinks it is possible to lower people to become like us. This is just… ugh.”
“Well, he hired a common man as his personal secretary. Can you believe it?”
Louigis stood up, abandoning the glass of wine on the carpet. “Stop your son before he’ll become uncontrollable, or we’ll take care of him once and for all. Considering he and my sister don’t even have a child, it’s useless as a death man.” With that, he left.
The room remained silent even after the sound of the door that was closed. Outlook refused to watch the other as he slowly stood up. “I apologize, but I feel it’s time for me to leave.”
Nobody answered, nobody said him goodbye as he moved towards the door. Silence accompanied his leave. He had never felt so humiliated in his life.
That stupid son of his!
After his marriage, Outlook had thought Sabo would be a good prince. His behavior had been better than usual, except the short break of his mysterious illness, and even if Outlook knew Sabo wasn’t a genius, he hoped at least things would be fine. All he needed to do was having children and looking pretty next to the princess.
But no! Even after his memory, Sabo still had stupid ideas. In one thing Outlook agreed with Prince Louigis: he was he duty to stop Sabo, for the sake of his own family.
So the next move was, on Friday morning, to reach the royal palace and ask for a private meeting with Sabo. He was expecting to be received on the spot, instead Sabo made him waiting for hours. The waiting became almost unbearable, but gave Outlook the realization Sabo had stopped considering his family once he had gotten married. Except the day of the Grey Terminal, Outlook had seen his son only when he was the one asking for the private meeting.
At first, Outlook thought it was about Nentokanette: after all, they were in love. But maybe he had been painful mistaken. Sabo was avoiding him because he didn’t care about the prestige of the family. He didn’t care about the nobles at all. Just as when he had his memory.
Finally, Outlook was introduced in the private office of Sabo, who didn’t even look at him, focused on the paper he was writing.
“Why do you make me wait for so long?” Outlook asked, as he sat down on the chair.
“I’m busy. What do you want?”
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Sabo.”
And Sabo did, with two eyes full of anger and hate. The same Outlook saw after Sabo had woken up from his coma. “Do you remember I have a higher position than you now? That’s what you want, right? So accept all the consequences that came with it.” With that, he returned to his writing.
“You’re still my son…” Outlook murmured, but obeyed. “I apologize, Sabo. Of course I’m happy of your results, but not all people may be and I’m worried you-”
“You’re worried I’ll lost my position and you’ll lost your privilege,” Sabo cut him.
“Yes.” Outlook’s face brightened as he felt his son understood the situation. “You worked so hard and… You’re happy now you’re with the princess, right? Why don’t you focus on your marriage instead this trivial things…”
“Because giving people a better life is, of course, a trivial thing.” Sabo rang a small bell he had on his desk. A second later, a man entered in the room. “Pratchett, please, accompany Lord Outlook at the door, we finished here.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“We’re not finished!” Outlook jumped up. “Sabo, do you understand the position you’re in…?”
“No, I understood the position you all nobles are. Scared. I’m enjoyed it a lot.” A smirk passed through Sabo’s face, as he returned at his paper.
Defeated, Outlook followed Pratchett outside. He didn’t understand his son at all, neither he understood what could have caused such a change in him. He was an idiot, but after the memory loss Outlook was sure he turned him into an obedient child. The person he faced that day looked like a different person.
As a noble, Outlook felt with all his body Sabo needed to be stopped. His ideas were too dangerous, as he showed no consideration for the importance of nobility. They couldn’t afford to have him as a father of the possible future king.
But Outlook was his father, which mean Sabo’s fall would result into the entire family’s fall. And he couldn’t afford that. After all, kings and nobles survived for so many years Sabo alone couldn’t destroy them. But losing his connection to the royal would surely destroy the Outlook family.
When he returned home, Stelly welcomed him with a big smile on his face. “Daddy! I have a wonderful news for you!” he exclaimed. “The king called me this morning and asked me to be the prince’s personal secretary! Isn’t that great? Now I’m also your connection to the palace!”
So that was it, Outlook thought. Louigis’ words the evening before contained a warning and a threat. At first, Outlook imagined Sabo could be forced to divorce from Nentokanette faking one of the two reasons that made possible a divorce in the royal family, which was bad enough for their reputation.
“Aren’t you happy, daddy?”
But Stelly’s new position showed Outlook a new reality. The main idea was to kill Sabo, to take care of him once and for all. And to pay Outlook for accepting the death of his firstborn, his only child, so that at least he could have still something that connected him to the royal family. Stelly’s new position was a bribe.
“Of course I am. Always so proud of you, Stelly.”
But position could be withdrawing. And the personal secretary of the king was less than the brother-in-law of the king. And Stelly wasn’t his flesh and blood after all, he was just the substitute. The last resource.
No, for once Outlook wouldn’t accept the bribe. His firstborn was an idiot and, like always, Outlook had to do the dirty work for him.
Capitolo 4
The eyes were closed as Sabo inhaled the sea air. He heard the sound of the waves against the dock, the seagulls’ screams and he almost felt drops of water on his face. He imagined himself sitting on the railing of a pirate ship.
“This is your fault,” Nentokanette pouted.
“My fault?” Sabo replied, returning in the real word.
“Yes. We were supposed to go at the ceremony, not my father and my brother. I even bought a new dress for that…”
“Oh. I’m sorry then.” And it was sincere, as his gaze turned to look at the ship that slowly left the Goa Kingdom. He would love to spent some time at the sea. “Even if I don’t get why it’s my fault.”
Nentokanette glared at him. “We don’t have a child yet. And my father does not approve some of your ideas, so he decided Louigis had to marry too. That’s why they’re going instead of us.”
Of course, Sabo knew about that, even if he didn’t care. In his opinion the Revolutionary Army would have change the world before Louigis could even have a child, so thing didn’t change for him. But before he could reply to Nentokanette, a breathless Stelly broke next to them.
“I’m here! I’m here! I can’t believe I forgot these important papers this day. It’ll be great for his royal highness and I’ll be there with him and-”
“The ship sailed,” Sabo interrupted him. “Why aren’t you on board?”
“What?” Stelly moved the gaze where Sabo was pointed and saw the figure of the ship at the horizon. “They left without me?”
Nentokanette chuckled and even Sabo didn’t hold back a smile. Stelly bit his lips, in understanding. There was a time Sabo was mocked at the same way, but now it looked the stupid brother, the failure of the family, had become Stelly.
“The ship’s still in the bay, if you ask some of the merchant ships here they could lend you a lift to reach it in time,” Sabo suggested with a kind smile.
Stelly swallowed down his humiliation. “Yes, I’ll do that.”
He turned to check the nearest ship to ask and in that moment two loud sounds, one after another, were heard in the bay and they made the waves growing stronger. Both Nentokanette and Stelly covered themselves behind Sabo, who looked around worried.
“That was a thunder?” she asked.
“I don’t think so…” Sabo answered slowly, as he saw smoke lifting from the ship the king and prince where on. “Take care of her,” he ordered Stelly, then rushed towards the harbor master.
They had already taken notice of what had happened and they were efficiently preparing another ship to sail at the rescue. It could be nothing, but the smoke was enough worrisome to at least checked it.
“I’ll come with you,” Sabo said.
The captain of the ship was perplexing, but he couldn’t refuse an order from the royal family, so he nodded. Sabo jumped on the bow desk, looking for the situation in front of him. As the ship approached the other, the flames became visible and it looked like something had split the ship into two parts.
Lifeboats came in their direction and the sailor hurried to rescue the people on them. From a briefly smile, they didn’t look hurt and Sabo let a relieved sigh.
“It’s too dangerous getting nearer,” the captain said. “We could run over other survivors and get caught in the shipwrecked.”
So sailors and paramedics together used the same lifeboats to get near the almost fallen ship. Sabo joined them, even if the sight of the situation made his scar aching. The smell of the burned wood mixed with the sea salt brought back memory to Sabo, who shivered and pinched his arm to remain focused. He helped the sailors to bring on board of the lifeboat the people that were swimming far from the ship, the ones that didn’t manage on time to escape. Only few of them were badly hurting.
“We need to go back,” said one of the paramedics. “It’s becoming too dangerous for us and we need to take care of the wounded.”
“But…” Sabo began.
“Your highness, we all know the king and prince are missing right now. But remaining here would only put everyone else in danger.”
Sabo gave a last look at the fallen ship before nodding. The people on the lifeboat were hurt and scared, they needed to be saved. But once on the ship, Sabo remained on the deck, his look focused on the fire and the sea, searching for more survivor. If only I would have been stronger, I could have searched the burned part of the ship here. Maybe he could have save someone else, as Dragon had saved him. But he was weak.
Once the ship returned at the harbor, Sabo was welcomed by Lestrade, who was the deputy head of the royal guards. The king and the prince had brought with them the head, alongside with some of the best guards. Sabo knew all of them and was sure to see most of them saved, but definitely not their boss.
“Your highness,” Lestrade greeted him with a bow. “I came here as soon as I was informed. What happened? It was the royal ship, wasn’t it?”
Sabo nodded. “Our king and prince… are nowhere to be see.”
Lestrade gasped. “I understood the captain didn’t want to risk to get too near, but we need to prepare another rescue ship right now.”
Sabo nodded. “The fire… It seemed started right in the middle of the ship, just where the king’s cabin is.”
“Not an accident, then?”
“I don’t know,” Sabo said. He was more tired than he thought and the adrenaline rushed towards his veins, making impossible to realize the situation.
“Your highness, please return to the royal palace,” Lestrade suggested him. “I will organize a search team for the king and the prince and we’ll start investigating this incident too. For now, you need to be safe.”
I don’t want to be safe. I want to be out there, helping people. Be strong.
Instead, Sabo nodded. He felt panic was already spreading around the harbor, even if Lestrade’s guards where keeping curious away. He’d like to reassuring his people, but right now he wasn’t sure he could reassure himself.
He got on his carriage, where he found Nentokanette and Stelly, who jumped still as soon as he saw him.
“People were coming and I felt her highness would be safe inside…” he justified himself.
“Go home, Stelly,” Sabo ordered, as he sat down in front of Nentokanette. Stelly stopped for a second, his mouth moved, but in the end he took all his papers and left.
“You look horrible,” Nentokanette said. Since Sabo didn’t speak, she continued, “So, what was it? A divine punishment because my father didn’t let me go to the ceremony?” She chuckled. “He didn’t even manage to left the harbor, I’m pretty sure he’s furious right now.”
“Sarie,” Sabo murmured, and she stopped.
“What?” She blinked, as Sabo’s serious expression, and she licked her lips.
“It wasn’t a minor accident,” he explained. “The ship was split in half, the central part destroyed by the fire. I’m not sure how many people we fail to save, but… Your father and brother were part of the missing people.”
“What do you mean, missing people?”
“They weren’t on the lifeboat, not swimming around the sea. We didn’t find them. It’s possible…”
“No,” she interrupted him. “No! No!” She stamped her feet on the ground. “There’s no way. Send all of guards, all of our servants, they have to find my father and my brother, do you understand? They will find them.”
“Lestrade’s already on it,” he assured her. “If they’re alive, he will find them.”
“If?” Nentokanette kicked him, then almost yelped from the hurt. “They are alive. Royals people doesn’t die like everyone else. They are alive.”
Sabo didn’t press. She could not like her, but she could understand the feeling of losing someone dear. Not accepting the situation was a way to deal with the pain. So when they reached the royal palace, he suggested her to relax a little in her room, since he would call for her as soon as Lestrade would bring back news. She looked tired, so she obeyed.
Pratchett, Sabo’s personal secretary, arrived to ask information about the situation, since some rumors had reached the palace. Sabo asked him to keep the situation under control for now, until they received better information. After that, he closed himself in his office, alone. Hidden below the desk, there was the Den Den Mushi the Revolutionary Army had given him for sending them message.
And he did. Just few words, because he couldn’t be sure of the situation yet.
But if the king and the prince really had died in the shipwreck, the what would happen? It wasn’t part of the plan. Becoming king wasn’t his mission.
Sabo didn’t want to become king.
***
Lestrade came for his report the morning after the day of the incident. Sabo welcomed him in his office: he hadn’t slept much and Nentokanette had closed herself in her room, so Pratchett was his only company for the moment.
“I apologize, your highness, but I prefer spending a little more time to investigate before explain the situation to you.”
Sabo nodded and gestured for Lestrade to sit down, but the vice head remained still. “Please.”
“We searched for other survivors all day and night, but we managed to find only two bodies. They were sailors and it is likely they remained trapped at the bottom of the ship when the explosion happened.”
“So is it confirmed it was an explosion?” Sabo asked.
“Pretty much,” Lestrade hummed. “We didn’t find any traces of the bomb, but I feel the evidence are enough.”
“After all, I also heard the sound of the explosion.”
Lestrade nodded. “And you were on the land: the survivors heard it better and there’s no mistake it was an explosion. Or better, two.”
“Two?” And Sabo’s eyes widened in understanding. “For two people…”
“I fear you are correct, your highness. For what we can see from the remains of the ship, the two explosion took place from two definite spots: the king’s and the prince’s cabins.”
Pratchett gasped.
“I’m afraid so,” Lestrade agreed. “Two bomb exploded from the two cabins. The people that were in those rooms probably were killed on the spot.” He ignored Pratchett’s shivers and continued, “the bombs weren’t strong enough to destroy the entire ship. I guess because they were enough small to not be found during the inspection.”
“But the ship sank.”
“Yes, the explosions expanded on the bottom of the ship, opening a hole where the water entered. And it started a fire, which made impossible to intervene for repair the said hole. That’s how it went.”
Sabo sat down and closed his eyes. “You said you found only two bodies. What about the other victims?” Lestrade spoke as there was no way they would find other survivors.
“Their bodies probably got destroyed because of the explosion,” Lestrade said. “Other than the King and the Prince, also the king’s advisor, the king’s personal secretary, the king’s butler, the head of the royal guards and the prince’s second secretary lost their lives.” He put on the desk a paper filled with names. “I interviewed the survivors and most of them confirmed those men were probably together at the time of the explosion. And from the list of people onboard, they were the only we hadn’t found.”
“So we lost the king and the heir at the same time…” Pratchett murmured, letting sink the magnitude of the situation. “Who could have doing something so terrible?”
Sabo was reading the list Lestrade’d gave him and, without lifting his eyes, he answered, “hypothetically speaking, me.”
“Your Highness...!” Pratchett gulped, outrageous.
“Please don’t joke on this,” Lestrade added.
“I’m not saying I did it, but people might think it,” Sabo said. “After all, I’m the one that gains more from their deaths. Before, I was only the husband of a princess, with the hope one of my son will ascend to the throne one day. A remotely one, since the journey in the first place was for the prince to get married. Now, well, I’m becoming king.” The last words were pronounced with a tired tone, and there was a crocked smile on Sabo’s face.
Pratchett and Lestrade exchanged a look. “Then I’ll do whatever it takes to find the real culprit,” Lestrade commented. “I already had a hunch.”
“Thank you,” Sabo said sincerely. “But I have another favor to ask: can you please continuing the research of survivors for the shipwreck for three more days, alongside with your investigations?”
“Of course, your highness, but I had to say it’ll be pointless.”
“I know, but at least I don’t want anyone to suspect we don’t search long enough.”
“I understand. I will bring you news in three days then.”
“Thanks. And Lestrade…” Sabo called as the man was about to leave. “I can’t nominate you until I’ll be crowned, but the position of head of the royal guards it’s already yours.”
Sabo’s felt a sting in his heart, because the last sentence felt a lot like a bribe. It wasn’t, because Sabo had known Lestrade since he’d married Nentokanette and he knew his valor, but at the same time he’d became his friend, just as Dragon’d suggested – speak with everyone, make friend so you can have allied – and he lived in that garbage world for so long his mind had become malicious.
And for that, he was glad Lestrade didn’t comment further.
“No words, for now,” Sabo ordered Pratchett. “People will talk, but we need to keep quiet.” He wouldn’t tell Nentokanette too: it would be hard for her, so Sabo decided he would wait until he would be inevitable.
***
As promised, Lestrade came back three days later, but he didn’t have different news from the ones he’d already brought, so Sabo hadn’t any choice but to announce everyone what’d happened.
“Please, Pratchett, summoned all the managers in my office in half an hour, I need a meeting with the about the future. After that, ordered as much funeral wreaths as the number of the victims and set them in my chariot.”
“Why?” Pratchett asked, as he signed down the orders in his notebook.
“I’d like to say my condolence to the families in person,” Sabo explained. Even if most of the victims were from noble families and they probably hated him, he felt the urge to do so. “And the first person we’ll be Nentokanette.”
“I suppose you won’t need flowers for her,” Pratchett commented, with sympathy.
Sabo shook his head. “I’ll see you at the meeting in half an hour.”
He hadn’t see Nentokanette in four days. He couldn’t say he missed his company, but it made the meeting with her more complicated. He knocked the door from the hallway, even if their two rooms were connected, and waited for the answer before entering. She lied down in the bed, but as soon as he saw him, she sat down.
“Sabo, honey, finally!” she exclaimed. “I miss you. And father and brother. Where they are?”
She could look happy, but her hair was a mess and her nightdress was stained. And no make-up. No matter how much she’d tried to hide his worries, her bodies betrayed her.
Sabo sat down to the bed next to him. “They died, Nentokanette.”
She blinked. “Sorry?”
“It was a bomb. The explosion killed them and destroyed their bodies,” Sabo explained. It was cruel from his side, but he had no other choice to wake her up. “Lestrade’s investigation was meticulous. That’s just what it is.”
“Well, it’s clear he’s not good enough,” Nentokanette replied. “Fire him and hire someone better. Someone that can actually find my father and brother.”
“No.”
“You… You… Fine, I’ll do it myself.”
She was about to leave the bed, but Sabo dragged her back by her arm.
“You won’t fire someone just because you don’t like the answer.”
“It’s just not true!” she screamed, as she squirmed to break free from Sabo’s grip. “Let me go!”
Sabo grabbed her other’s arm to block her. “They’re dead, Nentokanette. Not your money or your position will change it. Just accept they’re gone.”
She froze, eyes big and watery. Tears streamed down her face. “You’re so cruel…” she sobbed. “You hadn’t lost anyone dear to you, so you can’t understand!”
He blinked and immediately released her. Nentokanette turned his back at him and covered her face with her hands. Sabo felt the tears on his cheeks, as the image of Ace’s face from his bounty poster compared in his mind.
Nentokanette was right. He’s cruel. He’s cruel because he didn’t like them, and he didn’t like her.
“That’s not true,” he murmured. Even if she was sobbing and not paying attention at him, he continued, “I lost someone I care about. I lost him and I wasn’t able to tell him goodbye. Just like you. I may have not liked your father and brother, but you’re allowed to be sad. Just… you’re also the princess. You have duty that cannot wait for you to grieve.”
He moved near to him, so he could hug her. Nentokanette hid her head against his chest. She was crying. “Not even you can protect me forever…” she murmured. “I’m so tired… I just want to forget all…”
“You can rest for now,” Sabo assured her. “I will take care of everything.”
He let her cry until he felt her breathe was becoming harder. At that point he moved near the bedside table. He passed Nentonakette a couple of sleeping pills and a glass of water. She didn’t complain, otherwise she was eager to drink it. Sabo waited until she was asleep before leaving the room.
He was late for the same meeting he summoned himself, so he wasn’t surprised when he saw the look the others shot him as he entered in the office. After all, they all hated him and now that he was basically in charge, they’re also worried.
Sabo sighed internally. It was like a fire trial. He stopped hiding. He stopped protecting himself with his arms, even if the strikes kept coming. But those people… Those wouldn’t it him straight in the face. They would hug him and then stab him in the back. It’s a kind of battle wasn’t used to it yet. The only way to survive was to hit first and faster.
“I apologize, but I was informing Princess Nentokanette about her loss.”
It was the truth, but Sabo felt an inch of happiness as he saw the look of the others shifted away from him, embarrassed.
Since none of the others were sitting down, Sabo remained still too. He observed the people in the room: save for Pratchett and Lestrade, they were enemies so Sabo had to be twice as careful as he spoke with them, since they were the most important employers of the royal palace and they were well known and respected.
Lady Chambord, Lady Fersen’s sister, was the housekeeper so she took care of everything involving maids, butlers and the palace’s furniture. Better than her only Lady Byron’s father Lord Richey, the Chamberlain, who was in charge of the entire organization of the palace and, now that the king’s advisor was dead and yet to be substitute, of everything involving the royal family’s affair. Last but not least, Lord Muzesky, the maître: kitchen, cooks and all that came with them.
“I guessed Lestrade already informed you about what happened that fateful day to our dear king and to the crown prince,” Sabo began, and Lestrade nodded in confirmation. “I waited, hoping I could bring you better news, but we can’t do that anymore. The kingdom needs time to mourn its death.”
He decided he wouldn’t make any reference about his future as king. He casted a glance at Pratchett, who took out of his folder some papers to be handed at the others.
“I prepared a small list of procedures we’ll follow in the next days,” Sabo explained as soon as everyone had the paper. “The funeral will take place in seven days at the church of Saint Joan. The bodies weren’t found, but I feel all of us need a ceremony to celebrate the royal family we lost. Can I trust you into organize it, Lord Richey?”
“Yes, your gr- your highness,” he answered. “Even if I saw you already have a lot in mind.”
“It’s just a suggestion,” Sabo replied gently.
Lord Muzesky hummed. “I agreed about the banquet after the funeral though.”
“What about the other loss?” Lady Chambord inquired. “I hope you don’t intend for a contemporary ceremony.”
Sabo shook his head. “No. Seven days should be enough to held the other commemorations before ours.” He paused. “After the funeral, we’ll wait thirty days for the coronation ceremony.”
Lord Muzesky and Lord Richey froze, remembering the truth of the situation. Lady Chambord snorted. Sabo turned his gaze to her, then slowly took three steps to get in front of her.
“Is there some problem, Milady?” he murmured, sweet. “Please feel free to add any suggestions. This is my first time in this kind of… unpleasant event and I’m ready to take any advices from expert people like you.”
Lady Chambord gulped under Sabo’s innocent gaze. She hadn’t bothered to hid his displeasure when Nentonakette’d chosen Sabo over her nephew Fersen jr, but now Sabo wasn’t just the husband of a royal, he was the future king and, even if he wasn’t crowned yet, none of the other yield as much power as him. A wrong word and Lady Chambord could lose her position. Any of them were in the same danger.
And Sabo played with her, fully aware he couldn’t actually fire them as he pleased.
He realized, in a glimpse of victory, that he wasn’t anymore the poor boy hidden behind a wall, waiting to be it. Now he was the one looking for hidden people.
“No, your highness.” She didn’t make the same mistake of Lord Richey, and addressed Sabo with his rightful title. “Thirty days are fine for mourning and for organizing the coronation ceremony. All three of us will collaborate for it.”
“Five,” Lestrade corrected her.
“I’m sorry?” She blinked.
“Five,” Pratchett repeated. “As the personal secretary of the future king and as the vice head of the royal guards, we are obliged to participate at the organization.”
And he pointed at himself and Lestrade. The other three looked outrageous, because Lestrade came from a fallen noble family and Pratchett was no noble at all.
“Of course,” Sabo confirmed. “I count on all you five for this. The kingdom need you.” A hint of a smirk compared on his face and he quickly hid it. “Now, if we’re finishing… Are what I asked you ready?”
“The funeral wreaths were loaded on your carriage and the driver is waiting for you, your royal highness,” Pratchett replied.
“Perfect. Let’s go.”
Despite the curiosity in the others’ eyes, Sabo didn’t bother to explain the situation and left the room with Pratchett at his side. He thought faced the family of the victims would have been hard, but after facing those three, nothing seemed impossible. -
.
“It’s foolish,” his father had said, even if he didn’t stop her.
And foolish indeed was, Allura was aware of it. She didn’t find any better way to go and try to defend her kingdom, her home, her people, from the Roman Empire’s wrath than go in the wolf’s den. The amount of her foolishness became painful clear as, standing on the main deck of the ship, she believed the cities they’re seeing was already Rome and not Ostia, the roman port.
In her small kingdom at the end of the Egypt, the only city so big is the capital.
He embarrassed herself in front of the roman general that was accompanied her and that wasn’t good. It gave the impression of weakness.
Allura’d prepared herself for her travel. She studied, she spoke with people that could give her advices about the romans. But nothing would be enough to prepare her to see the capital of the entire world, or at least of a big part of it.
Rome was overwhelming. There was no other way to describe it. Or to hide it. Allura couldn’t define it wonderful: sure it had some of the most incredible monuments she’d ever seen, but Rome was too big for her gaze to focused only to the shining things. Rome was also the filthy Suburra, and the area of the roman forum, where the architectures looked like people hated each other and every new year the tried to erase what the predecessor said.
But, no matter how she saw all the negative part of Rome – it was amazing without any doubt. If she ever imagined a capital for the entire world, it would be Rome.
They reserved for her and the only person of his escort, Coran, a villa on the Aventino hill, and offered her all the servants she needed. She knew she couldn’t trust any of them – some of them were slaves, and they were easily to buy for a promise of freedom she couldn’t offer. But they underestimate her, and that was important for her.
Playing the part of the little barbarian princess until she could find out something Emperor Zarkon would like more than conquer her land.
Coran accompanied her in small walk around the city. For the first week, Allura observed. She listened. At the end of the week, she didn’t manage to meet Zarkon yet, but she got a better grasp of the political intrigues on the city.
Zarkon had a son, named Lotor. They didn’t get along well. Mostly people on the roman forum believed Zarkon would nominate as his heir his most trusting general, Sendak. After all, he was the one that had defeated the resistance in Gallia, while Lotor only made some small campaign in German that’d brought Rome no more than debts.
After all, Zarkon’d trusted Sendak with the beautiful princess from Egypt, not Lotor.
Even if she hadn’t meet him, Allura had a better opinion of Lotor: he was loved by the common citizens, and in the most obscure part of the town. It looked he cared deeply about his people, something he shared with Allura.
Instead, she wasn’t found of Sendak. He was a violent man and she was under the impression he considered her a nuisance or a hostage, not a guest, even if he hadn’t actually done something to damage her. Except, maybe, avoiding her meeting Zarkon.
So Allura acted. She asked the secretary that was assigned to her for her principal need, a Greek liberto, to write down a message for Lotor. The message wasn’t important per se, even if she pleaded him to intercede to his father for her behalf; the important thing was for her servants to spy on her and informed Sendak about her move.
Sendak had to know that maybe, maybe, Lotor could gain some advantages introducing Allura to Zarkon, if she truly had something valuable to offer. Even if he doubted of her, he couldn’t risk Lotor having the change to discover something first. What Allura wanted was a change to be introduced to the most important people of Rome.
He listened and observed in the town enough. Now she needed to speak with senators and noblemen.
Her plan worked perfectly: the day after her letter to Lotor, she received an invitation. Sendak would held a dinner in his villa, for no particular occasion than showing the results of his trades.
Allura was welcomed to attend.
And she surely would attend.
She studied a little about the customs of roman banquets, she put on a roman dress and she arranged her hair as a true roman matron.
She still wasn’t ready to face what she waited for her.
She ate, as the food was the only bearable thing of the evening, she used the Greek language to speak with some women, since the men ignored her mostly, too focused on pleasing the owner of house.
But, most of the time, she hated.
She hated the difference between men and women, she hated all the sexual innuendos they spoke, sure she wouldn’t understand them, she hated the opulence Sendak was showing only because he could.
And, she found out, she hated the gladiatorial matches.
Apparently, they weren’t very common in private parties, because it was very expensive to hire the gladiators from the lanistae. But of course Sendak was wealthy enough to organize them for his own dinner.
Allura couldn’t understand how people could enjoy the show of a man killing another one. The war, she could. War could have a noble purpose. People could fight for their dearest. There, slaves fought for money they couldn’t use, and maybe for a momentary fame.
After the first match, and the first killing, she stood up. The eyes of everyone else where on the match, so nobody stopped her as she moved at the end of the room, very far from the small arena it’d been prepared in the dining room. She dared not to leave the room, because she couldn’t risk Sendak or everyone else to become suspicious of her.
But at least she could divert her gaze from the battle.
“Here.”
Allura startled as one of the guest approached her and lent her a cup.
“What is it?”
“A cup of wine.” He placed himself against the decorated wall, next to her.
“But it’s empty.”
He nodded. “So, if you feel to gag, you can do and pretend you’re drinking. Nobody will notice.” He blinked at her, with a wide friendly smile.
“Thanks.” Despite the situation, she was grateful.
“You’re welcomed. Especially because the next match will be pretty bloody. Sendak was able to hire the Champion.”
“I see.” Allura didn’t know what he was talking about, and she didn’t care. She wasn’t there for the show. “You’re Lotor, right?”
“In person.” He smiled again, and he didn’t look surprised to be recognize. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to answer to your kind letter, but Sendak beat me up organizing the dinner.”
“I guessed. Actually, I’m surprised you were invited at this dinner.”
Lotor leaned a little towards her. “Well, he didn’t. I just showed up and he couldn’t turn me out.”
She smiled. She liked him, she decided. She couldn’t trust him, and a nice smile and a nice gesture weren’t enough for her, but she felt he had her same way of thinking. Maybe, if he wasn’t a roman, they could have been friends.
He spoke again, but his words were covered by the scream of the other guests. Allura turned her gaze on the arena to see the object of their reactions. She looked at the man in armor standing there, with his white hair and the scar on his nose and his square jaws.
“Will he fight only with an arm?” she asked, in horror.
“Yes. Champion’s a beast.”
And a beast he looked, and as a beast he fought. His battle lasted few minutes, the time for him for pushing his opponent on the ground, jumping on him and trusting the sword on his opponent’s neck. It was a merciful kill, but a kill nevertheless.
The crown went wild. The exchanged chanting in the Champion’s honor, and drank more wine. Some of them throwing coins at him, someone else applauded. Champion just pulled off the sword, letting the blood spilled and covering the ground of the small arena.
As he lifted his head, his eyes met Allura’s. It was only for a brief second, but enough for her to understand.
The Champion looked like a beast, but he wasn’t one. He was a human being, trapped in a situation he didn’t ask for, fighting for survival. Just like her.
“There is a chance I can buy that gladiator?”
Words came out from her mouth before she realized her. She covered her mouth with the empty coup and she didn’t look at Lotor, even she could feel his gaze on her.
“Gladiators have their own way to enchant the roman matronae,” he commented. “I’m surprise they have the same effect on you.”
“We all have our weakness,” she replied. “Can you help me or not?”
“The Champion is the best gladiator of Rome,” Lotor said. “he had the record of victories, one that will be hard to beat. Convincing his lanistae to let him go will be hard.” He shot her a look. “But for you, princess, I’ll do it.”
Lotor kept his promise. Allura wasn’t able to find out how he did it, or how much money he’d spent, or exactly what he was trying to gain.
She only knew Coran called her, and announced a man was at the front door, with the Champion with him.
Even if she was unsettling by Lotor’s behavior, she got what she wanted.
“Please, lent him in the servant’s quartier, and order everyone else to leave,” she said Coran. “I want to speak with him alone.”
Coran looked worried, so she added, “you and me together.”
Reassured, Coran did as she ordered. She joined him when everything was ready, and they entered in the small cubicle the other servants prepared for the Champion.
The Champion sat on the bed, a chain kept his wrist tied together and connected to his neck. A small white tunic couldn’t cover the scar spreading all around his body. They made Allura gasped briefly.
He lifted his head just barely, exchanged a look with her and then lowered it again. He didn’t move, neither spoke.
“Free him,” Allura ordered, in Greek.
She guessed he didn’t understand the language, because he didn’t anticipate Coran’s move and he startled a little, before understanding and leaning his hand forward to make the release easier.
“Can you understand me?” Allura said, trying a language from the east. She didn’t want to reveal her knowledge of Latin yet.
He nodded. “I came from Jerusalem.”
She switched to Jewish. “How do you end here?”
He looked surprise by her words, and she wondered if it was for the question, or for the language. He rubbed his sore wrist. “I guided a revolt there, against a roman governor that used his authority to oppress people even against the law of Rome. It didn’t end well.”
She tightened her fist. The look at Sendak’s party… That was the reason she recognized it. She moved in front of him.
“I’m here to save my country,” she said. “I can’t trust anyone. Can I ask your help?”
For a long, long instant, they stared at each other. She sustained his look.
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to, but please feel free to use me,” he said at last.
“Not use. Asking for assistance.” She smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Shiro.” It looked he wasn’t use to say it often.
“Well, Shiro, thank you.”
***
Allura didn’t want to be there. It was the last place in Rome she’d like to be.
But she has already spent two other weeks in Rome gaining nothing. Zarkon still made excuse for not meeting with her and even Lotor, despite his initial help, didn’t seem so interested in making the meeting happen. On Sendak, she couldn’t count.
There, at the Anfiteatro Flavio, Zarkon couldn’t help but attend. It was a game organized for him, after all, and despite being the Emperor, he still had people to satisfy. And voices said Zarkon liked the gladiatorial matches as he loved war.
When Sendak invited her, she accepted. She suspected he meant the invitation as a joke: since her request of having the Champion as a slave, gossips had roamed freely about her and her lust for gladiators.
They weren’t true, but Allura didn’t expect the romans to understand the bound between her and Shiro. Shiro had been her eyes and her ears, and her bodyguard, making sure no arm came for her. Shiro was a reassuring presence for her. Coran remembered her home, grounding her to her mission and remembering her the stakes. Shiro knew Rome and the romans better and he was the armed hand. He’d became the Champion without an arm. Allura felt he could do everything.
Nobody knew she’d freed him, and nobody should know.
They let her stayed on the nearest gallery, not the one destined to the women, but the one for senators. It was a clearly change of the habit and she noticed the strange looks, the envious looks, people shot her. Still, they accepted the decision: her status as a barbarian princess made her special and gave her privileges.
He wasn’t a roman matrona. Her customs were worse, luxurious. She liked gladiators.
They talked about her.
Good, so she could understand them and they wouldn’t never know how much information they’re giving to her.
Coran remained at home: it was safer having someone to monitoring the place, to avoid spies and killers. None of the trusted romans. Shiro, instead, was with her. She looked at him, worried that the place would bring bad memories in his mind.
“I’m fine,” he reassured her. He clearly wasn’t, by the way he clenched his jaws, still his eyes were firm.
Zarkon was in his private gallery, right in front of the platform of the arena. He was near, and with no excuses. Allura only needed a way to get there. Sendak sat on the right side of Zarkon and he smirked at her as he noticed her stare. Lotor was a little bit far, with the group of his loyal senators. He waved a greeting at her and Allura answered with a small smile.
The matches started in the morning. First, a group of gladiators against feral animals.
Allura felt bad seeing the men slaughtering the wild beasts. Some of them lived in her country too, some of them represented gods for her religious. She couldn’t stand the scream of joy every time blood was spilled.
“The meat will be distributed for free to the citizens. For most of them, it’s the only chance to eat it.”
“At least their deaths wouldn’t be in vain,” she said. She sounded tired. “We can’t say the same thing for the gladiators.”
A couple of men died against the beasts. It didn’t ruin the public’s enjoyment. They screamed even louder during the first gladiator matches. There were three fights before Sendak, who was the editor of the games, decided the show lasted enough for the morning. Allura blinked as the people around her stood up and leave the Anfiteatro.
Shiro brushed slightly her arm. “Noblemen and senators had their reserved spots, so they can have lunch in the restaurants nearby without worries,” he explained. “Instead, common people can’t, or they risk the spot they found this morning. It’s the reason why the lunch time between gladiator games is reserved to executions.”
“And?” she said, impatient.
“The Emperor must attend the executions, which means he can’t leave his spot.”
A victory smile erupted from her lips. She turned to observe the situation. In the arena, the first convict was tied up to a pole on the right side, near the emperor’s gallery. Lotor was leaving with his group, and she nodded at him as she agreed at his silent request to join him. Instead, she slipped on the lower gallery, Shiro behind her.
Servants brought Zarkon trays full of food, so he could eat sitting in his gallery. Sendak was there too, alongside with a couple of guards. It was unfortunate, because Sendak shared with Zarkon the passion for war, so he wouldn’t be incline to agree to any compromise that could avoid a battle. The opposite of Allura.
Still, she was the only chance she manages to get and she wouldn’t let Sendak scared her away.
The public of the arena wasn’t large as before, but twice louder. She tried not to look at the convict as a feral beast, a panther with a beautiful black mantel, got near to him. It was attracted by the smell of blood coming from the convict’s wounds. But when the public yelled, she couldn’t help but turned her head.
The panther had bit the convict’s hip and was now eating his guts. Allura swallowed and kept walking. She didn’t miss the look on Zarkon’s face as he watched the man being eating alive, the smirk on his lips and the light in his eyes. He could be calmer than the public, but he was enjoying the blood as much.
Once the arena’s servants arrived to dispose of the body, Zarkon turned his attention away. He froze, as he noticed Allura standing at the entrance of his private gallery, but he was fast to recover and reserved her a feral smile.
“Princess Allura.”
“Ave, Cesare,” she said, placing her hand near her heart. Then, in greek, “I’m afraid these are the only Latin word I know.”
“Barbarians,” Sendak chuckled. He shot a look at Shiro, as he dared him to speak or to translate his comment to Allura. Shiro remained still.
“This is not the best moment,” Zarkon said.
“This may be the only moment,” she replied. “I learned this from the games I see today. They really speak for the transience of life.”
Zarkon and Sendak exchanged some other not very kind words about her, but none of them ordered for her to leave, so Allura got near and sat down even before someone allowed her. One of the servants even offered her food. She refused.
“So.” Zarkon began. He swallowed a piece of meat. “What do you have to tell me?”
“I’m here for the behalf of my country, Altea,” she said. In her head, he prepared her discourse countless time. “It’s small and far from Rome. Our economy is flourish, thanks for the contact we have with countries that are even farer than Altea. Relationships we spent years to build. It would be a waste destroy them because of a war. Our customs are very different, but I’m sure we can surpass our difference and work together. Altea can keep its independence and Rome can gain all the advantages from our cultures and our abilities, as it did in the past with country like Pergamo.”
“It was a long time ago,” Zarkon said. “Now we prefer a more direct… approach to our allies.”
“I understand. Still, Altea is far. A war will cost more than you can gain with an alliance. And it’s so far it’ll be hard to control after. Instead-”
“Do you have beasts?” Sendak interrupted her. “Better than the one you saw today?”
“We have the same,” she answered, a little taken aback. “Some of them were actually considered gods for our religion and-”
“Shut up,” Zarkon ordered. “Let me see this.”
His head was turned to the arena, and Allura followed his gaze. Another convict was tied up to the same pole, hands behind his back. He looked young, with long black hair. He had a wound on his right shoulder and one on his right cheek. Allura noticed it as the boy lifted his head. He was near enough to see his blue eyes, not scared at all.
“Keith…” Shiro whispered at her side.
She didn’t know the meaning of that word, neither in Latin neither in Jewish. Once he turned to look at him, she understood it wasn’t a word. It was a name.
The name of the boy tied up that pole.
Before she had the time to reach, Shiro’s face become hard, anger spreading and filled every word. “Why?” he demanded. He ignored the guards’ stare at his lack of respect, and went on, “He is a roman citizen, not a slave. He was a gladiator by his own decision.”
For a long instant, both Zarkon and Sendak watched him. “You should have taught your slave better,” the latter commented, to Allura.
“Tell me,” Shiro said.
“Or what?” Sendak replied.
They both stared in each other, and Zarkon seemed to enjoy their fight. Allura remembered the stories about a senator that liked fought in the arena and, in that instant, she realized it had to be Sendak. He and Shiro had an history.
In a smooth gesture, Allura rubbed the point of her fingers on Shiro’s arm, feeling how tense his muscles were.
“Quiet,” Zarkon ordered. “Let me see the show.”
Shiro moved aside from Allura and gritted his teeth. The servants let a lioness in the arena, a graceful lioness with a bright red mantle. They saw her moving around careful, slowly getting nearer to the boy tied up to the pole.
“He attacked his Lanista,” Sendak said. Even if Shiro had now his back at him, it was said for his behalf. “Because he sold you away. Don’t become a gladiator if you can’t respect a contract.”
Shiro clenched his fists and took a deep breath. Allura bit his lip and, for a second, she feared he would attack Sendak. Instead, Shiro rushed forward, towards the arena. He had already a leg on the boards, when the guards grabbed him. They weren’t strong enough to drag him back, but they stopped him from jumping below.
“Shiro, please…” Allura whispered.
It was useless. She didn’t know what kind of relationship Shiro had with Keith, but she could understand the deepness of it. And, sort of, she threw herself in the den’s lion too. She couldn’t blame Shiro for wanting to do the same thing.
“Let me go!”
The lioness stood now in front of Keith; unlike the beast before, she was taking her time to reach her prey, until she stood and placed her forelegs on Keith’s shoulder. Keith froze on spot, the lioness’ head near to his neck.
“No!”
Shiro shrugged one of the guard and kicked aside the other.
“Wait!” Allura yelled. “Look!”
Shiro stopped, in time to see that the lioness wasn’t about to eat Keith. She sniffed him, she licked him, then she lied down at his feet, like a kitten. She didn’t look scary at all.
Allura’s ears stung of pain. For the silence, she realized. The yells from the public had been so loud, without any pause, she forgot how was the quiet. Now, the entire arena was silent, shocked by the scene in front of them.
“What the hell?” It was Sendak, and he sounded angry.
“Is… is your friend a lion tamer?” Allura asked.
Shiro didn’t answer. His eyes were still on Keith, a small, relieved smile on his face. Allura could say he was amazed by the scene in front of him.
“He tamed me,” he said at last, in a whisper that Allura wasn’t sure she heard for real.
Zarkon stood up. “Do something!” he yelled at the men below.
A second later, three lions were let free in the arena. Big mistake, Allura thought. Shiro was calmer now, and the smile turned into a smirk. He knew too that the lions couldn’t stand a change. Not if the lioness wanted to protect his cub.
The public screamed again, but she wasn’t sure which side they were. The lioness saw the lions and, at first, she remained firm, observing them. Once they started to get too near, she stood up and she growled at them, fangs bare. The lions moved around, trying to find an opening to attack her.
She came for them first. She jumped on the first one, threw him in the ground. His fangs pierced the lion’s neck. It struggled, but she didn’t let her grip loosened, until the lion stopped moving. The other two had remained still, surprised by her action, until one of them jumped on her.
They rolled one to another in the sand ground. The other lion was smarter, he decided to go for the prey directly. The lioness saw him: she escaped from her fight and run to hit it with her entire body. As she bit it in a leg, the other recovered and got too near.
This time, Shiro jumped. His help wasn’t needed, though: the lioness let one of the lion in the ground, his leg twisted so much it couldn’t stand up anymore, before returning and killed the last one. Then, she returned at Keith’s feet. She was hurt, but she acted stubbornly.
The arena was silent again.
“In my religion, the God of sun sent her daughter, a ferocious lioness, to punish mankind for their sins,” Allura stated. Her voice was low, but firm. “She brought destruction, until the chosen ones, the pure, tamed her and turned her in a cat.” Only then, she turned to Zarkon. “Maybe this is a sign.”
“MERCY. MERCY. MERCY.”
The public of Rome didn’t know the legends, but sure they agreed in having witness something unusual, something great, something that needed a reward.
The lioness growled at Shiro as he got near. Keith murmured something, Allura saw his lips moving, and Shiro could reach him and unbind the ropes that tied Keith at the pole. He kneeled down to caress the lioness. She let him rubbing his hands in the fur of her back.
Then, both Shiro and Keith moved until they were right below Zarkon’s gallery, the lioness walking behind them.
“Boy,” Zarkon said. He was displeased. “How did you tame her?”
“I went to Africa once, with the army,” Keith said. “I lost myself in the desert and I had to hide in a cave. There, I found a lioness. She was hurt, just like me. I took care of both our wounds and I fed her, until she got better and she could return to her pack. This is the same lioness.” There was a smile on Keith’s face as he tilted his head a little to look at her. “She returned the favor.”
The public was still screaming.
“MERCY. MERCY. MERCY.”
“You can go,” Zarkon stated. “You had been forgiven.”
Relief was clearly visible on Keith’s face and he immediately turned to Shiro. They hug there, in the arena, under the public’s applause, for so long and with a grip so tight they looked as they wouldn’t separate anymore.
Allura closed her eyes for a second, unable to look at them. She had been bold, assuming Shiro wouldn’t have someone else to care about.
When she opened them again, they’d left from the victory door, and Lotor was at her side. He nodded at her a little, and without a word she agreed to leave the Anfiteatro Flavio with him.
***
Allura didn’t expect to see Shiro again.
He was free and between them there was only a brief agreement he had no reason to respect. They were basically strangers, and she didn’t even blame him for it. He was with his friend (his lover?) and maybe he was happy. Allura couldn’t be angry at him for it.
Instead, the same evening, Shiro presented himself at Allura’s villa.
After Coran told her about his presence, she went to welcome him in person. He was waiting for the in the tablinium and he smiled as he saw her. For a long minute, they stared.
“I looked for you,” he said, at last. “At the entrance of the arena.”
“I left before the end of the games.”
“Understandable.”
“Why are you here?” she didn’t refrain to ask, because she was getting tired of mundane conversations.
He sounded surprised. “You asked for my help, and I promised you my assistance. It didn’t change.”
“Yet, you almost ruined everything today.” She wanted to forgive him. For Allura the girl, he didn’t do anything wrong. For Allura the princess, he was a problem.
“I know,” he admitted. “And I can’t promise it won’t happen again. Not if one of my friend is in danger.”
Allura sighed. “Who he is?”
“Keith?”
She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. It was a pretty clear question.
“He’s a friend.” Shiro’s smile was sweet, the sweetest she had ever seen. “He… saved my life more than once. He gave up his freedom so he can be with me in the arena.” He took a step forward. “I am a liability for him. When you bought me, I thought… I thought Keith can be free. Instead, he almost got him killed.”
“He wants to stay with you.” At any cost went unspoken, but both of them heard them in their head. “Is he here?”
Shiro nodded. He gestured a little towards the door, so Allura took two steps, opened it and entered in the impluvium. Keith sat there, next the water tank, rubbing the belly of the lioness.
“They let him keeping her?” Allura commented.
Shiro chuckled. “She didn’t let anyone else getting near.”
Keith had his chin lifted, his eyes fixed on Shiro. “What did she say?” he asked, in Latin.
“I haven’t asked yet,” Shiro replied. He switched his language to Jewish. “I think… We think we can still work for you. Me and Keith, I mean. If you’d like to.”
Allura didn’t expected that. “Is he okay with that? You said he’s a roman citizen.”
Shiro nodded. “Yes, but his family lost his status of nobleman after a revolt against Zarkon. They supported another emperor back then,” he explained. “He didn’t care so much about Rome.”
Again, the part that Keith only cared about Shiro went unexpressed. “Fine.”
“Really?”
“Sure. It’s not like I have much allies here. I need help and, well, you don’t meet every day a man that can fight and win with only one arm, and a man who manages to tame a lion.”
“That’s true.” Shiro smiled and walked to Keith. “We can stay. She said yes.”
The frown on Keith’s face didn’t disappeared entirely as he stood up. “Did you tell her?” His fingers rubbed Shiro’s tunic.
“I don’t think she cares.”
“She might.”
Allura stood there, watching the silent conversation between the two of them, as they sustained their look. He wondered what they were talking about.
“She doesn’t have to know,” Shiro said. “Her customs may be different, but romans-”
“Romans accept it only if it’s with a slave, or a young boy.”
“I was a slave.”
Keith glared at him. “And only if you don’t suck dick. And I like sucking yours a lot.”
Shiro paled. Then reddened.
Allura was sure his face matched her. She trumped on them and she placed herself between them. It felt safe that way.
“Listen,” she said. “As long as you help me, I don’t give a fuck who you fuck or how you fuck.”
“You… you speak Latin?” Now Keith’s face was red too.
“I studied it. Feel it could be useful here.”
She surely expected to listen to private conversation, but that one… That one was a little bit too much, even for her.
Shiro coughed. “I guess this means we’re fine.”
“We are,” Allura confirmed.
She still left the impluvium a little too fast, but definitely she didn’t want to stay and see them practicing what they had say. She doubted they would do in front of her, still she didn’t take the risk.
***
The invitation for a party at Zarkon’s villa arrived a week after the arena’s incident.
In the meantime, Allura kept his eyes and his ears opened, but she didn’t make any active moves. She was afraid Zarkon would still be upset and she wanted some time for him to calm down. Now, the party could be her last change to plead her case.
Sendak would be there, of course, but with a little bit of luck she could speak with Zarkon alone. Maybe Lotor would be there too, even if the relationship between him and his father was getting worse, or at least the romans said it in the forum.
She decided to not bring Shiro and Keith with her. They were worried, of course, but she felt they wouldn’t have been appreciated at the emperor’s party. Besides, they were her strength, but also a liability: people didn’t speak freely around them, since they knew the languages. Allura needed to caught lies at the party.
Coran would come with her, just to reassure them she wasn’t alone. Especially because Zarkon sent a palanquin only for her: a common gesture of courtesy for a foreign guest, but suspicious enough to make Keith and Shiro attentive. She would have preferred to walk by herself, but she couldn’t refuse Zarkon’s request.
It wasn’t sheer luck, then, that she noticed something was off. He remembered well the best way to go from her villa to Zarkon’s, and so did Coran. They shot a look at each other, because that definitely wasn’t the usual path.
She tilted her head to the nearest soldier. “I don’t recognize this part of the city.”
“It’s a shortcut for the emperor’s palace,” the soldier answered briefly.
“I see.”
Allura didn’t believe him. He hadn’t answer at her question about the name of the area, which meant she wasn’t supposed to know. She was supposed to follow them blindly.
“Is she suspicious?” another soldier asked at the one Allura’d spoken with.
“No. Don’t worry. But be prepared to grab her once we arrived.”
She couldn’t say if they wanted to kill her, or just took her for some personal reasons. She wasn’t going to wait and find out. She brushed her hand in Coran’s arm, and he nodded.
In a second, Allura took the metallic plate that was supposed to be a present for Zarkon and smashed used it to smashed the nearest soldier in the face. At the same time, Coran made one of the slaves that kept the palanquin, causing it to fell on one side. They jumped down just before the fall and started running.
“Catch them!” someone yelled before them.
They didn’t know the area, and it was hard to remember all the street they’d taken, because outside the main roads, the quartiers of Rome were very similar, so she didn’t have a clear idea how to shake off the soldiers. She bit her lips, angry, as he saw two figures that blocked their path.
They were trapped.
Then, Coran sighed of relief. “Princess, look!”
Even in the dark, the figure of the lioness was clear as she run towards them. She surpassed them and he jumped on the first soldier, his claws in his face. Her arrival startled the other soldiers.
“Shiro! Keith! How do you…?”
“We follow you,” Shiro explained. “We didn’t trust Zarkon.”
“You were right,” Allura said.
Keith didn’t spoke: a blade shined in his hand while he joined his lioness in the fight. Coran nodded at Shiro, who left Allura and entered in the battle. The two of them, alongside with the lioness, were no match for the soldier. Allura observed as they sliced a man after another, until no one else remained but the slaves, who made no move to attack them.
“No. Let them,” Shiro said, when Keith gestured to them with his bloody sword.
“Let’s go.” Allura was the first one to move, and the others followed. “We can’t return to the villa. They will wait for me there.”
“What do you think they want?” Keith asked.
“I’m not sure,” she replied.
“Probably, taken you hostage,” Coran guessed. “Killing you would be pointless, but using you as a bargain for our king…” His voice trailed off, as he realized the gravity of the situation.
“We need to return to Altea right now.” Allura hoped she sounded convincing, because inside her was a little scared. She had no place, no allies, no resource. And Altea was very, very far.
“How?” Shiro gave a voice to all her fears.
“I know a guy.” Keith interrupted a silent that was lasting too long. “He owns a ship. We can ask him a lift.”
“Will he help us? I mean…” Allura had some money with her, but not much. Most of them were still at the villa, and they couldn’t return there.
“He’s always happy to help a woman,” Keith replied. He looked sure of his idea.
“Going to Ostia would be dangerous,” Shiro murmured.
“He doesn’t live in Ostia, but in Brundisium.”
“Oh.” Shiro threw a look at Keith, and Allura was sure he would ask for more information later. “Well, it’s better for escaping, but by walk is pretty far.”
“Better start moving, then,” Allura commented.
They walked. For the next days, that’s the only thing they did. They barely spoke to each other, too focused on the street, on their steps, on their worries that Zarkon’s soldiers could find them. They sleep briefly, with one of them always on duty.
Eating was a problem, especially with the lioness with them. Sometimes they were grateful for the farmer’s hospitality, sometimes they hunted, sometimes they stole from the farmhouses. Keith had managed to grab a blanket to cover the lioness so she wasn’t so recognizable by far.
They reached the city of Brundisium at down. The port was already crowded with merchants and fishermen. Allura hid her face more inside his hood, while Keith looked around and then headed in a precise direction.
“Hey, Lance!”
The ship looked like a roman trireme, but smaller: only three oars by each side, and only a sailing. Despite being, by Keith’s word, a cargo ship, it still had the armament of a war ship. It could be good for them. Three people were on board, and all of them stopped their work to look at Keith.
“Man, Keith, it’s been a while! Where have you been?”
“I’ve been busy,” Keith answered, without any more explanation.
“Who are the people with you?”
Keith gestured with his hand for them to come closer. The three got off the ship and gathered with them. “These are Lance, Pidge and Hunk,” Keith introduced them. “We need a lift, and we need it now. Are you ready for a fast departure?”
“Hey, hey, you can’t just come here without an explanation and…” Lance’s voice trailed off once Allura revealed herself. “Woah. Ave, my lady. Are you Afrodite’s daughter, maybe?”
Keith rolled his eyes. Pidge frowned. “Is he the Champion?” she asked. “I heard of him from Matt.”
“His name is Shiro,” Keith affirmed, in a tone that made clear he wouldn’t accept any more reference to Shiro’s past as a gladiator.
“Is that a dog? Or a sheep?” Hunk was looking perplex at the lioness.
“Neither,” Keith replied. “Can I introduce to you Princess Allura and her advisor Coran? We really need that lift to reach their homeland.”
“Which is…?” Hunk started.
“At the end of the Egypt,” Allura answered. “I apologize for asking you this, but we have anyone else.”
“Well, I’m not going to leave a beautiful woman in danger,” Lance commented, with a wink. “We need to load supply because the ones we have aren’t enough for such a long trip and we can go.”
“Afraid we don’t have that time,” Shiro said. With his head, he pointed out a group of roman soldiers that were searching all the ships in the port. They couldn’t be sure they were looking for them, but they couldn’t take the risk.
“Lance! Bring the princess on board and prepare for departure!” Keith ordered. “We gain you some time.” His blade was in his hand, Shiro at his side, and the lioness freed herself from the blanket.
“This is definitely not a wolf!” Hunk exclaimed.
“Please, princess, come.” Lance grabbed gently her hand and lent her onboard.
Despite her first impression of Lance, Allura admitted he was competent when the situation required it. She and Coran tried to stay out of the way while the other three prepared the ship. Hunk collected the anchor, Lance prepared the oars and Pidge, proud of her automatic mechanism, took command the sailing.
Allura looked at the port: Keith and Shiro were holding against the soldier, but not for so long. “We need to help them!”
“Princess,” Pidge called. “Take the sailing. Coran, to the oars.”
Allura obeyed. She never managed a ship, but Pidge explained a second the mechanism and it was quite simple. Pidge’s special invention, apparently. While Allura took care of the sailing, Pidge joined Coran in the lower deck and they started to move the oars so the ship slides behind the port.
Hunk and Lance were on the stern. Lance had a bow in his hand, a peculiar weapon for a roman. Hunk passed him a piece of clothes soaked in oil, before throwing a sack full of black dust inside the port, in the middle of the roman soldiers.
“Keith! Shiro! Beast! Run!”
Lance put the clothes on his arrow and lightened it. He threw it as Keith, Shiro and the lioness tossed themselves in the water. The arrow hit the sack and everything exploded. Allura closed his eyes to protect them, as the ship rattled dangerously. Lance put down a couple of ropes so Keith and Shiro, who were swimming in their direction, could get on board.
“I don’t know how you did it,” Shiro said, looking at the fire that was starting at the port, “but I’m okay with it.”
“I can’t believe I just take a lion on board,” Hunk murmured. “How do you call it?”
“She. And she doesn’t have a name.”
“Why not? I suggest Red.”
“We’re not calling her Red.”
There wasn’t much time to discuss on mundane thing, but they kept bickering about it while they joined Coran and Pidge in the lower deck and took the remained oars to fastened the ship.
Allura kept the sailing. Her hands were trembling. They managed to left the roman empire, at least the ground of the roman empire. The travel towards Altea had just begun, and it would be even more dangerous, especially because they weren’t prepared for this.
She couldn’t believe three strangers, five if she considered Keith and Shiro too, went that far only to help her. She felt a sting in her eyes and realized that, despite everything, she was happy. She wasn’t alone in that dangerous situation and that was something.
Once the mainland disappeared at the horizon, Lance decided they could stop rowing and just moving with the sailing for a while. Pidge took her maps and started to calculate the correct direction to a safe port where they could take some supplies.
“I can’t believe we let here all alone, princess,” Lance said. “Please, let me.”
He took the command of the sailing and Allura smiled at him, grateful.
Her hand, not used to the hard work, had already some wounds. She wouldn’t complain, as she hadn’t about her sore feet during they travel from Rome to Brusindum. She accepted the water Coran gave her and then she rested against the boards.
In front of her, only a calm blue surface was visible.
“Zarkon will declare was to my country,” she said, at last, trying not to sound too tired. “I need to reach Altea as soon as possible to warn my father and prepare our defenses. And even so, I’m not sure we can win. But we have to try.” She lifted her head and looked around, at the face of everyone, lioness included. “I’m sorry I drag you in this mess, but… I need you. Right now, you’re the only one I can count of.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a little too late for regret that,” Hunk commented.
“And after your stunt at the port, I doubt we have another place to go but Altea,” Pidge added.
“There is no way I won’t help a woman in danger,” Lance stated.
Keith shrugged. “As long as I’m with Shiro, I’m fine.”
Shiro blushed a little, and tried no to look at him. Allura smiled at him, encouraging. She couldn’t tell much about the three new friend except they had some peculiar talents, but about Shiro and Keith, well, she knew more thing that she’s supposed to.
Shiro placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder and that calmed him somehow. When he spoke, his voice was steady.
“We’re with you, princess. Together.” -
.
CAPITOLO DUE
The plan hadn’t go how Sven’d predicted. Apparently, One-armed and Scarred were stubborn, or probably just more convinced of their means. The so-called heroes.
It didn’t matter. Sven could adapt at any situation and he was going to use them for his personal plan. It wasn’t a petty revenge, not entirely at least.
He expected them to live in the center of the city, maybe at the last floor of a skyscraper, or in a big villa in the suburbs, not in the middle of a desert in a small cottage. Still, not a problem: One-armed’s car had the gps, which was enough. Sven couldn’t find the cash. He supposed they had a safe somewhere, but he didn’t have enough time to search for it. Lucky for him, at the orphanage they had never noticed his hidden cash, which he’d managed to collect from pickpocketing around.
It was ready. And with no intention of staying in that house for too much time. They were buying Siv, and he didn’t like it. He should protect her from adults.
Once One-armed and Scarred were asleep, he woke up Siv. She blinked, confused, but he gestured at her to dress up and remain silent. Siv didn’t ask but did as she was told. Sven stuffed mostly of their belongings in one of the two backpacks, so it would be easy to transport. They went downstairs: the house was dark and silent.
Sven opened a window and helped Siv to pass over. In the garage, there were One-armed’s car and a hoverbike. Sven’d stolen the keys of the car, but he needed to be sure they wouldn’t be able to follow them, so he opened the motor of the hoverbike and cut off some cables.
The car was huge, but in some way Sven managed to take the controls. Siv curled in the passenger seat. He selected the destination to the navigator and started moved.
“Where are we going?” Siv asked.
“In a better place.”
Siv looked at the window. “It looks nice here.”
He sighed. “Everyone is nice at first. They aren’t different.” He looked at her. “You don’t trust me?”
“Sure I do.”
The rest of the travel was silent, even Sven moved from time to time to assure Siv wouldn’t fall asleep. He parked the car on the empty street, without care. He didn’t mind if they found it or not; once they did, they would be very far. The bus station was near, so they reached it by walk. Sven knew all the destinations and the timetable. He studied them.
He’d decided the place to go, where he could hope to find a job even if he was a minor. A place where he could take care of Siv and where nobody would give a shit about him. He’d planned to escape from the orphanage once he became sixteen; things forced his hand, but he could pull it off. After all, both him and Siv looked older. Especially Siv.
He stood before the ticket office, where an annoyed man was smoking. He reserved them a bored look.
“Four tickets from bus D13,” Sven said. He wasn’t going to take that bus, but another one. At this late hours, driver didn’t check carefully the ticked. It was a decoy if they would come to search for them.
“Are you all alone, kids?”
“Duh. Of course not. Our parents stop at the market to buy some food. Four tickets, remember?”
The man blinked. Twice. He tilted his head and looked far. He placed the cigarette down. “It’s 240,00 bucks.”
Sven threw him the cash and took the tickets. They’re almost there. Now he just had to take bus D11. He turned to search for it… and froze. One-armed and Scarred were there, standing between them and the bus. How the hell did they find them and how the hell did they reach the place so fast? It took two hours for Sven from the house!
They looked smug. Bastards.
Sven tightened the grip on Siv’s hand. In a second, they were running on the opposite side of the bus station. He made less than a hundred meters before feeling something grabbing the collar of his jacket and lifting him. He lost the grip on Siv’s hand, who covered her mouth in surprise.
It was the prosthetic hand. That damn floating hand could get very far from his owner, and an incredible speed. It was also very strong, because he brought back Sven still keeping him lifted. Siv walked next to him. The hand placed him on the ground once he was back in front of them.
Sven refused to look at them, but he didn’t protest when One-armed grabbed both his and Siv’s hand.
“Let’s go back.” It was an order.
Sven and Siv followed quiet as they returned to the car. Sven was angry, and he also lost a lot of money for tickets he couldn’t use, but he understood when a battle was lost. As bad as it was, he underestimated them.
Scarred drove, Sven sat next to him. He didn’t protest when One-armed sat on the backwards seat with Siv, but during all the journey he didn’t take his eyes off the two of them. There was a sweet smile on One-armed’s face as Siv felt asleep with her head against him. Sven snorted. Scarred’s face was unreadable.
He talked once he parked the car in the garage. “Bring Siv to bed. I need to speak with Sven first.”
Scarred’s hand were still on the wheel, and he didn’t turn his head. One-armed waited a second, before nodding. “Okay.” Siv was still sleeping and he lifted her gently in his arms.
No, no, no, no. Sven wouldn’t have let Siv alone. He opened the car door and was about to get out when Scarred grabbed his arm. His grip was strong, hard as iron.
“Let me go!”
“Oh, so you can talk.”
Sven gritted his teeth. He kicked and struggled, but he didn’t manage to break free. Scarred left him only when he was sure One-armed was far enough, but that didn’t stop Sven to run to reach them. He made two steps outside the garage before Scarred tripped him and he fell in the desert dust.
It was almost dawn.
Scarred stood now before him and the house, arm crossed. “If you really want to protect your sister, you need to reflex first to the consequences,” he said. “Do you realize how foolish and dangerous was your stunt tonight?”
“I can protect my sister just fine, I don’t need your advices. Or you!”
“What if you meet a bad person that want to hurt Siv? It’s pretty likely in the night, with two children all alone. You won’t able to save her. You can’t even surpass me.”
Sven yelled. He was so angry. So angry. At that man and at himself. He rushed forwards and threw himself at Scarred. He clung on him. He knew he couldn’t beat him in a normal fight, but he’d noticed the knife Scarred kept at his belt. Sven took it.
A second later, Scarred grabbed his wrist and turned him. The knife turned into a full blade pointed at Sven’s neck. Sven swallowed and let the grip on the handle.
“If I was a bad person, you would be dead and Siv would be all alone, with me.” Scarred left his grasp and took the blade from the ground. It returned a knife as he put it back in its place. “I understand the desire to protect the person you care about. I did it all my life. But I also learned you had to be strong to do that. And you don’t have to do it alone.”
He turned: One-armed was standing in front of the house, a worried look on his face.
“Go to bed,” Scarred ordered.
Sven didn’t reply. He tried not to admit it, but he was scared. Things looked dark. Really dark and dangerous. He walked with his head low, he surpassed One-armed, climbed the stairs and reached his new bedroom.
Siv was there, and she hadn’t put her pajamas on. She was still asleep, a small smile on her lips.
***
Shiro and Keith let the kids sleep more in the morning giving the night adventures. They didn’t change their plan to go to IKEA, so they made a brief brunch and then left for the nearest store. Sven and Siv still refuse to talk, but at least they obeyed without complain either.
Keith noticed how Sven casted look at him from time to time and felt a little bad. Shiro placed a hand on his shoulder to relax him. They’d talked about it and Shiro’s agreed it was a necessary lesson.
They both were not angry but worried about Sven’s escape, because he could have put himself and Siv in danger and they could only thanks Pidge’s surveillance system and Kosmo’s intelligence and transportation power that they reached them in time.
Still, Keith wasn’t satisfied with his behavior. He’d been patient with Sven. He’d been understanding. For once, he thought to be a little bit harsh and now he regretted it.
The tour at IKEA calmed him down. Sven let Shiro took Siv’s hand without any fuss. He still kept a close look, but didn’t complain. And Siv was happy to look at the furniture, even if she tried to hide it. At the end, they chose the one she looked happier about, even if she didn’t say anything. They loaded the car and moved in the nearest shopping mall.
There, Sven talked for the first time. “We don’t need new clothes.”
Shiro smiled gently. “It’s okay. New life, new clothes. See them as present from us.”
“We don’t want your presents. We don’t want your money.”
“You still need new clothes,” Keith intervened. “Yours came from the orphanage and they’re too old. So choose something you like to replace them.”
Shiro’d meant well into offering a present, but it was clear that Sven didn’t appreciate kindness, or saw it in a bad light. So, for the important things, they would order him around. And apparently it worked, or the small fight they had had in the morning did make some changes, because Sven obeyed. He grabbed a couple of shirts and pants for him and Siv.
“Do you think I was too much harsh?” Keith whispered at Shiro as he paid for the clothes.
“Maybe,” Shiro admitted. “But it worked, and right now we don’t know the best way to deal with them. But I might have an idea.”
Keith expected an explanation, but Shiro reserved a smirk to him, so Keith waited until they returned home to find out Shiro’s plan. Shiro let Keith bringing the furniture in the bedroom all alone as he placed himself at the kitchen’s table. Keith reached him later, alongside with Sven and Siv.
“What are you planning?” Keith asked, eyebrow raised.
“Since Sven here wants to be independent, I think it’s just fair if he pays for his and her sister’s expenses,” Shiro said.
He leaned forward a paper. After a second of hesitation, Sven grabbed him. And paled. Keith looked at the paper: Shiro’d written a list of the purchases and it was a consistent amount of money for a kid with no incomes. It also wrote down the expense for the gas they used to bring them back from the bus station.
“I left off the expense for meal and bills because that would be refunded by the orphanage.”
It was a lie, but Sven didn’t catch it. He placed the paper down on the table. “Fine. I’ll refund you.”
“And how do you plan to do it?” Shiro asked gently.
Sven looked annoyed. “In some way.”
Shiro took off another paper. “You can start from it.”
Keith was pretty curious, but he waited for Sven to take the paper before looking at it. It was another list, of things Sven could do, from taking good grades to help with the chores. Next to each thing, there was the money he could gain. For example, an A is worth 15,00, a B is worth 10,00, and so on.
Sven grasped the paper until it crumbled in his hand. He didn’t look at Shiro and Keith was sure Shiro was holding his breath. “Fine,” Sven said at least.
Shiro visibly relaxed. He exchanged a look with Keith, who smiled. It was actually a good idea. He wasn’t surprised it came from Shiro.
“We can start now,” Keith said. “It’s time to wash my dog and I can use some extra hands.”
“Can I help too?” Siv said it not looking at his brother, but with a small smile. Keith suspected she liked dogs.
“Two people, twice the earnings.”
“Yeah, sure,” Sven agreed. Keith guessed he preferred having Siv with him.
“It’s decided, then.” Shiro hung both papers at the fridge.
Keith moved outside the house. “Kosmo!” he called.
The wolf popped in front of them and both Sven and Siv gasped. Siv was the first one to recover and made another excited yelp. “Can I touch it?”
“Of course you can,” Keith said gently. She didn’t wait for his brother’s approval and moved near to Kosmo, who lowered his head and let her scratching it.
“This is not a dog,” Sven protested. “And he can teleporter too?”
“Well, it is my dog,” Keith answered with a smile. “But it’s a cosmic wolf.”
“That’s how you caught up so fast yesterday, you cheater.” Sven looked at Kosmo as he let Siv riding him. “It’s even possible to wash it?”
“That’s why I need extra hands,” Keith said.
“And that’s why I put a high price for this chore,” Shiro adds. “Since you’re fine, I’ll take care of the bedroom.”
“Do you think you can assemble it by yourself?”
Shiro looked offended. “I know how to repair an airship, I’ll be fine with an IKEA’s bed.”
It turns out that assembling a IKEA’s bed was harder than repaired a pod. When Keith went to check for Shiro after they managed to wash Kosmo, he found him surrounded by furniture’s pieces, completely lost.
“I fear we should call the engineers,” he commented.
“So they can mock us to no end?”
“Let me know if you had a better idea.”
Keith hadn’t, so he took his datapad, resigned. Pidge and Matt arrived in few minutes, as they hadn’t something better to do on Saturday than waiting for a help call from them. Siv was happy enough to play with Kosmo that forgot she wasn’t supposed to talk with adults and she greeted the two genius brothers with a smile. Sven offered his help to assemble the furniture so he could gain more money.
It turns out that not even the engineers could help. Much with Pidge and Matt’s annoyance, because they were forced to take back all the mocking, Shiro called the operators from IKEA and paid them to fix the bedroom. While the operators worked, Pidge ordered pizza and they ate all together on the porch, sitting down on the ground, especially because Siv and Sven are still covered in mud after their adventures with Kosmo’s bath. They didn’t talk during the entire dinner, but Keith had the impression they listened to their conversation as if they’re somewhat more interested than usual.
Pidge and Matt left ten minutes after the operators. While Shiro helped Siv and Sven to arrange their belongings in their new bedroom, Keith took a brief shower – he had some mud on himself too. He heard his datapad ringing, so he went downstairs with only his bathrobe and a towel that rubbed in his hair.
It was Lance.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about the adoption,” he greeted Keith.
“How… how do you find out?”
“I was in a videocall with Pidge when you called her today.”
Keith rolled his eyes: both him and Shiro’d told their friend to avoid speaking with Lance about it for now (Allura knew though), but of course it was something so huge it could slip at any time.
“I can’t believe it,” Lance repeated. “I’m a father too, I can help.”
At that was exactly the reason Keith and Shiro wanted to wait before informing him about the situation. “Sorry, Lance, but my kids are a little bit older for me to need advices about diapers and pacifiers.”
“Aww, and you’re already call them your kids. Aaaand now you’re embarrassed. Way to go, team leader.”
Keith was about to answer he had intention to use his authority to stop the call, but he was interrupted from a scream coming from upstairs. Without warning Lance, Keith rushed following the rumors.
He found the other three in the bathroom: Shiro was trying to stop a very angry Sven that was kicking and punching him. Siv, naked, stood in a corner, worried. Keith reacted without thinking: he grabbed Sven by the collar and pushed him in the ground.
“Please don’t hurt my brother!” Siv looked terrified, almost in tears.
“Of course not,” Keith murmured, as he released Sven.
In a second, he stood up and placed himself between them and Siv, covering her completely. Shiro moved next to Keith and spoke, “you both need a shower. Let the dirty clothes in a corner, we’ll wash them later.”
Without a look at Keith, he left. Keith followed as they went downstairs.
Lance was still on videocall. “Is everything okay, you guys?”
“No, not really,” Keith replied. “Sorry, Lance, we’ll keep in touch.”
“Sure. Call me if you need it.”
Keith nodded at the screen, before turning his entire attention to Shiro. He could tell Shiro was shocked by the entire accident. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Shiro sighed. “Siv wanted to wash herself, so I prepared the bath for her… I asked her if she needed some help… Then Sven entered and just… attacked me?”
“We should call the psychologist,” Keith said. “They may have some triggers we aren’t informed about.”
He had no idea what could have caused it, but he already saw some children becoming scared of something that happened to them in the past. The best solution in those cases would be avoiding the triggers until they found out the best way to face it.
“Okay.” Shiro nodded, but he didn’t look reassured. “Things… are getting better, a little… What if I ruined everything…?”
“No, no.” Keith cupped Shiro’s face in his hands. “If anything, I made a big mistake with Sven. I should have… I don’t know, but not that.”
They hugged. For a long minute, they just stood there, using the other presence to calm down. When they moved aside, they still looked worried, and they exchanged a little smile. There was a thing they should do. Without speaking, they moved upstairs.
Sven and Siv were in their room. He was drying her hair, but as soon as he spotted them, his face became harder. He turned down the phone and gripped his sister’s hand.
“What do you want?” he growled.
“Apologize,” Keith murmured. “I guess my… past as a soldier made me reacted in an inappropriate way. I didn’t want to hurt you, and I shouldn’t have.”
Shiro was at his back and he placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’m not sure what I did to scare you like that, but I’m sorry too,” he said. “If there’s something you don’t like, or don’t want us to do, please tell us. We’ll do everything to avoid it.”
For an instant, Keith thought Sven would have answered that they wanted to leave, that they didn’t want to stay there with them. Instead, Sven didn’t say anything. He turned on the hair dryer and lowered his head on Siv’s head.
Keith and Shiro left the room: they were still in the dark, and things didn’t look good.
***
Shiro parked the car a street far from the school. With a brief “goodbye”, Siv and Sven get out, with their backpacks, and walked away. Shiro waited for them to disappeared over the corner before leaving. He was a little sad the two children preferred walking towards school alone, so their classmate didn’t find out about their new fostering parents.
In some way, Shiro could understand that both him and Keith were a little bit too famous for their liking, and they wanted to avoid annoying questions. But Shiro guessed for Sven and Siv there was another reason, more tied to the idea to be considered still orphans. They didn’t need parents, not even when they have it.
Right now, he and Keith couldn’t help but respect their privacy.
He parked at the Garrison’s and headed to his office, mentally repeating his duty for the day. He opened the door only to find a man sitting down at his desk.
“Sam! You returned!”
“Nice to see you, Shiro.”
They hug.
“I thought your time with the Olkari won’t end for the next two weeks.”
“That’s correct, but I can’t wait to present the new technological discovery to the earthling scientific community,” Sam replied. “I have a couple of conference in the next days. Coleen is still there though.”
“Good for her. I’m pretty interesting about your discovery too. I can’t believe Pidge hid your return from me…”
“Well, she didn’t know until yesterday. I had to avoid her otherwise she would have spoilers of my conferences.”
Shiro laughed. “I see.”
“But tell me about you. Is it true you and Keith adopted children?”
It wasn’t exactly a secret, but at the same time Shiro wondered why it was a big deal. People had children all the times. “We’re fostering two children,” he answered. “It’s not an adoption yet.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, well, we aren’t sure we’re ready yet. But we hope to go there.”
“And how’s going until now?”
“It’s hard,” Shiro admitted. “I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing, you know? No handbook for this.”
“That’s true,” Sam agreed. “But you’re always good with our cadets. They loved you. You have a natural talent for this too.”
“I don’t know. I like helping the teachers here at the Garrison, but with our own children… They’re younger than our cadets, and they didn’t come to our house following a dream. With cadets, I can understand them. Sven and Siv… not so much.”
Sam patted Shiro’s back. “No parents even do. Don’t worry.”
Shiro was about to ask some advices about it, when his datapad rang. It was Keith.
“See you later,” Sam said, as he left the room before Shiro answered the call.
“Keith, hi. It’s something wrong?”
During the week Keith left the house very early, took Black at the Garrison’s and flying to New Daibazaal to work. It didn’t happen often he called, even if they didn’t have the chance to say bye in the morning, so it’s only normal to Shiro to worry.
“Actually, yes. Not to me,” Keith hurried to add. “We lost the signal of a cargo ship that was supposed to deliver goodies to a distress planet and I was asked to take part of the rescue team, since the area of the lost signal is full of asteroids.”
Shiro understood the situation immediately. “How long will it takes?”
“I hope I can be free in a couple of days. But unfortunately….”
It’d happened before. The first time of Keith’s project with the Blade of Marmora Keith had stayed away for weeks because of his work. Emergency happened all the time. But now…
“Don’t worry,” Shiro said. “I handle every day a group of cadets. I can handle Sven and Siv by myself for a couple of days.”
“I didn’t doubt that.” There was a little of regret in his voice. “I’ll let you know if I have more precise news. And call me for everything.”
“Sure. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
As he hung up, Shiro sighed. He would have half of the confidence he showed with Keith. But, after all, it could be for real only a couple of days. And Sven and Siv spend most of their time at school. Things were quieter recently, and Shiro hoped they would become better from now on.
Nothing bad should happened in two days or less.
***
“I called your parents.”
The principal’d said that, and Sven would like to reply he didn’t have any, but of course it wasn’t true anymore. Until the power couple of the universe was fostering him, for the rest of the adults they were Sven’s parents and nothing he could say would change it.
Sven shrugged. It was not he cared about what they thought of his behavior, and luckily for him Keith was still somewhere in the space, so he had only one to bear. When Shiro reached the principal’s office, Sven caught a glimpse of worry in the other’s eyes, before he lowered his head and refused to look at him.
“What happened? I mean, at the phone you talked about a fight.”
“Yes. I’m afraid Sven hit one of his classmate during the class. It started a small fight before the teacher managed to separate them. We didn’t tolerate this kind of behavior here and, unfortunately, I had to say this is not the first time Sven caused some rucks in the class.”
For a second, Shiro remained silent. “There will be consequences?”
“I understand you’re fostering him from only a couple of months until now, and we’re almost at the end of the school year. We’re trying to avoid a severe punishment,” the principal said. “But of course we can’t let it slide.”
“Of course…” Shiro repeated. “Would you mind if I speak a second with my son in private?”
I’m not your son, Sven thought. It was the first time Shiro said it out loud.
“Sure. We’re waiting for the other kid’s parents too.”
Shiro placed a hand on Sven’s shoulder, a silent demand to stand up and follow him outside the principal’s office. The last thing Sven wanted was a lecture from Shiro. Or Shiro trying to be his father, more than usual at least. Still, he had no choice. Shiro lent him to an empty hallway. He stood there, arm crossed. He looked at him, careful. Sven didn’t have the chance to get a mirror, but he could feel his broken lips and a sting of pain from his cheek.
“What did he say?”
“What?” Sven blinked. It wasn’t the question he expected.
Shiro smiled. “Keith punched another cadet at the Garrison once,” he said. “He wasn’t proud of it, and he didn’t try to defend his action, but… He was provoked.”
Oh, right. Sometimes Sven forgot Keith had been an orphan too. One of the main reasons that made him insufferable. With other adults, Sven could shrug them off because they hadn’t their same history. With Keith and Shiro it was definitely harder.
But in the end, they’re adults too. Keith wasn’t an orphan anymore and thinking he could actually understand Sven was foolish. And Shiro wasn’t even Keith. He surely wouldn’t believe it, or wouldn’t care.
“Listen, Sven. I can’t help you if you don’t trust me.”
Fine, Sven thought. I can’t wait for you to show your true colors. “He told me my sister’s a whore.”
“Your sister is ten.”
Sven snorted. That was the point.
Shiro nodded. “That’s all?”
“He told me out parents left us because my sister’s a whore.”
“I see.” Shiro’s face was unreadable. Sven guessed he didn’t believe it after all. No surprise here. “Let’s go back.”
They returned to the principal’s office. The jerk was there, alongside with both of his parents. Of course the both came for him. Sven shot them a smirk: the jerk’s face was definitely worse than his own.
“Mister Shirogane, may I introduce to you…” the principal began, but Shiro cut her off.
“It’s Admiral Shirogane.” He turned to the other adults. “I guess you’re the parents of the other boy.” He didn’t lend the hand to greet them. His gesture was welcomed by an angry shot from the jerk’s father.
“We are,” he confirmed. “And since you’re in the military, we hope you understand your son’s behavior shouldn’t be tolerated.”
“Absolutely. I will make sure Sven wouldn’t act like this anymore.” Shiro nodded. Sven didn’t have the time to be disappointed, because Shiro added, “And for the same reason I think you should teach your son the same.”
“What?” The jerk’s mother exclaimed. “It was not OUR son to hit-”
“Sven, please.” Shiro interrupted her. “Repeat to them what you told me earlier. The reason you started the fight.”
Sven didn’t expect this outcome. He couldn’t hold back though. “He told me my parents left us because my sister’s a whore. So I hit him.”
“My son wouldn’t never…” the jerk’s father began.
“I didn’t, dad, I swear…”
“Of course you didn’t, sweetheart…”
“Oh.” Shiro smirked, and Sven caught the transformation. Until that moment, Sven had only seen the sweet side of Shiro. He and Keith were disgustingly soft with each other. Now Sven could see Admiral Shirogane, the captain of Atlas, in action. “I can’t tolerate anyone calling my daughter a whore, or mocking her because their parents’ death. And I understand very well my son wouldn’t tolerate it too. I don’t approve him hitting his classmate, but at the same I hope you don’t approve your own son calling a ten years old kid a whore.”
“Yeah, well, no…”
“Good.” Shiro turned to the principal. “I think we all agree we can talk to our children about a proper behavior regarding their classmate and there won’t be necessary further punishment.”
The principal appeared surprised. “Yeah, well, I can ask the teacher to assign some supplementary classwork about the entire episode… but that will be all.”
“Can Sven return to class?”
“Of course.”
Shiro didn’t wait another second. He left the room, and Sven followed, realizing the relief that flow inside him. He didn’t care so much about school, but he gained some money from it (thanks to Shiro’s idea). And being expelled would be a pain in the ass.
“Do not fight with anyone anymore,” were the last words Shiro reserved Sven before letting Sven in class.
Sven had no problem to nod. He had the feeling nobody else would disturb him, not after knowing who was fostering him and what happened in the principal’s office. And Sven hated himself for being a little happy about it.
***
For once, Shiro decided to ignore his children’s wish, and went to pick them up after school. What had happened in the morning with the fight had let him a little worried. He didn’t feel wrong for defending Sven, but he hoped it wouldn’t create some more tension between his classmate. So he decided he had to put his foot down and made sure they were his children.
And he had to make sure the situation would be clear for Keith’s return. Even if it wasn’t Shiro’s fault, he felt guilty it happened in the same week Keith had other problems to take care of. A part of him was worried he wasn’t a good father after all.
“Why are you here?” It was a question he expected from Sven, but there was more surprise than anger in his words. Shiro’s attention move to Siv, as Sven tried to cover her with his body.
“Siv! You… Don’t tell me you got in a fight too.” She had a visible bruise on her left check, and a swollen eye.
“No!” she denied. “I… fell from the stairs.”
“Yeah.” Sven snorted. “She fought with Paul’s sister.”
“Well, she said bad thing about you! And only because that idiot of his brother can’t hold two punches.”
Shiro was amused by Sven looking annoyed by his sister’s behavior, despite the fact she’d acted exactly like him. He looked around and individuated the parents he’d had a discussion in the morning. They were scolding both of their children, and Shiro noted with some proud that both of the children’s face was in a worse state than Sven and Siv’s one. He shouldn’t have been happy about his children to win a fight they weren’t supposed to have in the first place, but he couldn’t help it.
“Okay, kids, no more fights after today,” he commented. “Let’s go back home to patch your faces.”
Sven shot him a dark look, then took Siv’s hand and followed Shiro in the car.
“I could have lied, you know,” Sven said, once they left the school’s parking.
“Did you?” Shiro asked.
“No, but…”
“Then that’s okay,” Shiro cut him. “I want to help you both. Be honest with me and I’ll be on your side. But,” he added, before Siv could say something, “it doesn’t mean you can go around and hit people.”
Siv crossed her arm. “Can I bring Kosmo to school? I’m pretty sure he can scare people away.”
Shiro laughed. “Kosmo is pretty easy to buy. It wouldn’t work.”
“You’re a lot scarier than Kosmo,” Sven commented. “I guess it’s okay if you pick us up from now on…”
Shiro wasn’t sure he should be happy about being a scary man, but he was surely okay with the idea of waiting for them with the other parents instead staying in the car pretty far from the school. He definitely would need to talk with Keith about the entire accident, and he still wondered how someone (anyone) could call a ten years old a whore, but for now he could sink in the thought of having done something good as parents.
And he decided to continue the good moments. “Would you like to go eating outside tonight? Like pizza or…” He stopped as he noticed the house’s door wasn’t locked anymore.
Did that mean…
“Keith’s back… oh!” Siv stopped and Sven almost dumped into her as he entered in the house.
“What…” he tried to protest, then he shut his mouth and widened his eyes.
Keith was indeed back, and in the moment he was at the kitchen’s table. Pity he wasn’t alone: Axca, Zethrid and Ezor sat down next to him, datapad in front of them. Sven and Siv met aliens before, because Earth was an important outpost for the Voltron coalition, but Shiro suspected it was the first time they have the chance to see three of them so close.
“It was either this or not returning until Sunday,” Keith commented. “Don’t ask.”
“Okay,” Shiro replied. “I’m just happy you’re here.”
Zethrid, next to Keith, rolled her eyes. “So there’s your children, chief?” Ezor commented, with bright in her eyes.
Sven crossed his arm. “No.”
Keith moved his look to Sven and Siv and only in that moment, seeing the surprise in his face, Shiro remembered the conditions of Siv and Sven’s face. That wasn’t definitely the way he wanted to tell Keith.
Keith frowned. “What happened?”
“I fell from the stairs,” Siv and Sven replied at the same time, with Shiro that said, “they fell from the stairs.”
Everyone else looked at them, perplexed. Keith’s frown deepener. “It looks to me they got into a fight,” Axca commented.
“And they definitely had it worse,” Ezor commented.
“You hadn’t see the other one!” Sven replied.
Zethrid busted our laughing. “They are your children for real.” And then, gesturing at her scarred face, she added, “you know, your father is the one that did this to me.”
“Oooh,” Siv murmured. She was impressed.
“First of all, that’s not true,” Keith protested. He was flustered. “Second, you were trying to kill me.”
“Not to kill you,” Ezor replied. “Just torture you a little.”
“Okay, that’s enough. Sven, Siv, in you room. Don’t you have homework to do?”
“Yes, but…” Siv eyed at the three alien women. Even Sven didn’t look so eager to leave the kitchen.
“Go. Shiro, a word.”
Shiro just wanted to die.
Sven and Siv climbed the stairs before them and closed the door of their room. Keith waited for them to reach their bedroom before exploding, “are you teaching them to lie?”
“No, but… I didn’t expect to explain things in front of your coworkers. I mean, you heard them.”
Keith sighed. “Unfortunately.” He smiled. “I miss you.”
“Me too.”
They sat down on the bed. Shiro told him about the accident and, for all the time, Keith kept his hand on Shiro’s kneel.
“I’m sorry,” Keith said at last. “I should have been here.”
“It’s no big deal. Don’t worry.”
“I fear it was my fault. I reacted bad at Sven’s escape and maybe… this show him…”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Shiro assured him. “Sven… is very protective of his sister, you know that.”
“And his sister of him,” Keith added. “Is it wrong if I’m also a little bit proud of them?”
Shiro laughed. “No, but let’s try to not encourage it. And unfortunately I don’t think Zethrid and Ezor are a good example to follow.”
“Definitely not.”
“I bring the children outside while you finish your work and maybe we can eat pizza tonight?”
“Good idea.”
When they returned downstairs, they discovered Sven and Siv were back in the kitchen, listening to the other three’s stories. Shiro shivered a little. They meeting Pidge and Matt was bad enough, giving all the stories they had about him and Keith.
“Is it true you crash your spaceship into a starship to save Shiro?” Siv asked to Keith. Her eyes are brilliant. Sven faked indifference, but he was listening.
Keith turned to Zethrid. “You know, every day I regret a little more having saved you.”
“Ouch, it hurts,” she lied, a smart smile on her lips.
“Plus it isn’t true, you love us, chief,” Ezor added.
“How did you save her?” Siv intervened. “Did you slash some aliens?”
“No, he avoided her to fall into a volcano after she kept him hostage,” Axca commented, dully.
“You kept him hostage?!”
This was the last stray. “Out. All of you.”
“But we have work to finish…” Axca protested. He’d realized the mistake she’d made.
“You’re capable to finish it by yourself.” Keith’s reply didn’t deserve an answer, so Axca nodded. She closed her datapad and stood up.
“But we have a lot of stories to tell,” Ezor protested.
“And I want to know about the volcano thing,” Siv added.
This time, it was Axca to block the other two. “If you don’t stop, I’ll let you my work too.” After some more protested, they left the house.
Keith took a relief sigh. Shiro placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’m offended,” he said. “You were never interested in our stories.”
“Because yours are boring,” Siv replied. “I want to know about the volcano. What did she do? She pointed a gun at you?”
“I’m still not interested, if it’s better for you,” Sven commented, but it was clearly a lie.
He exchanged a look with Keith. Things were getting better.
“Do your homework,” Shiro said. “We can talk later, at dinner. Pizza?” But he bought Siv when he added, “and maybe, maybe, I can tell you about that time Keith slashed Sendak to save Earth.”
***
The summer holidays were a problem, because Shiro and Keith didn’t know where to leave Siv and Sven when they’re at work. Sure, they could hire a baby-sitter, but they weren’t sure it was a good idea giving they’re still trying to get better with their relationship with the two children.
So, in the end, they choose this course of action: two weeks on Daibazaal with Krolia, two weeks on Altea with Lance and Allura and, for the entire month of August, Shiro and Keith would take holidays (they have a lot to take since they’re both workaholic).
Sven and Siv didn’t show particular enthusiasm for the summer break’s program, but it soon changed once their eyes fell on the Black Lion. Each child on Earth heard of the Voltron Lion, and at least once they saw the Voltron Cartoon, but standing in front of the real thing was a different matter.
Shiro’d made sure no one from the Garrison would be in the hangar as Keith left for Daibazaal: the official excuse was that he didn’t want to embarrass his children, who for sure would be observe by the other for the only reason to be Shiro’s fostering. The real reason was to have a heavy make-up session with Keith before his departure.
It last until Sven got tired of observing the Black Lion and snored. With a sigh, Shiro let Keith go.
“We’ll see each other in the week end,” Keith reassure him. They decided to avoid for Shiro to come and go from Earth to Daibazaal, since there would be only two weeks.
“I know, but I will miss you. You all.”
“Whatever,” Sven commented.
Shiro waved his hand for a goodbye as the three of them get on the Black Lion, who was considerate enough to prepare three seats for them.
“No belt?” Siv commented. She was very attentive of those kind of rules. Black was kind enough to grant her wish, making the belts appearing.
Keith tool place in his seat and the purple screen appeared. The ceiling of the hangar was opened and he waited for Sven and Siv to sit down before departing. Usually, he used the portal right after his exit from the Earth atmosphere, but since it was Sven and Siv’s first space travel, he decided to wait until they reached the end of the solar system, giving them a brief tour around the other planets.
Siv’d stopped faking indifference for quite some time, and the journey was no different. She looked around with big eyes and once the Black Lion was stabilized enough, she left his seat to get near to the windows to look better. Keith pointed out for her the name of the planets they were passing.
“Stop it,” Sven called her from behind. He hadn’t move from his seat and he refused to look around.
“It’s amazing,” she replied, with a pout.
“It didn’t matter,” he said. “They’re buying you, don’t you understand? They show you all this cool stuff so you lower your guards.”
“Ah! So you admit these are cool stuff!”
Sven blushed. “Okay. I admit it. This is cool. They are cool. But, as I say, it didn’t matter.”
Keith blinked. Sven wasn’t usually so earnest. And even if Siv was more open recently, she still covered for his brother. Until Keith understood: they were speaking in Norwegian, as they sometime did, knowing people around wouldn’t know the language.
“If you let them get close, they’ll hurt you. Did you remember-”
As much as Keith wanted to know why Sven and Siv were so cautious into became friendly with him and Shiro, he believed listening to a conversation he shouldn’t would be a bigger betrayal of their trust. And Keith wanted more for them to understand they could trust him and Shiro. They wouldn’t hurt them.
“Uhm, guys… I guess I should inform you the Black Lion has a system of automatic translation from every languages Including Norwegian.”
And he shot them a meaningful look. Siv covered his surprise mouth with his hand. Sven blushed. Hard. His face was completely red that Keith didn’t have the heart to tell him something about the fact he’d just said he found him and Shiro cool.
Sven crossed his arm and refused to talk in any way. Siv sat back at her seat, once her embarrassment disappeared, but at least she still asked information about the surroundings and she showed enthusiasm once they passed through the portal.
And she commented, once Keith parked on Daibazaal aircraft spaceport and the got off the Black lion, “woah, there’s a lot of aliens here!”
“Yep, and one of them is my mother.”
Krolia was waiting for them and the spaceport exit. Both Sven and Siv knew his mother was Galra, but they still couldn’t hide their surprise once they met her for the first time. Siv had no problem to stare at her with wide eyes and she waited a lot before grabbing her hand. Sven rejected it and Krolia respected his wish.
“Mom, remember Sven wants to work. So give him everything you have.”
“You can count on me. And on Kolivan.”
“Please. I ask for some work, not to be scared for life,” Keith joked.
“Don’t be mean. He sweetened a lot aging up.”
“If you said so. I’ll see you for dinner.”
He greeted the three of them before leaving for the Blade of Marmora headquarters. He couldn’t hide the fact his children were on Daibazaal from his colleagues, especially from Axca, but he made clear (from great displeasure from Ezor and Zethrid) that any Blade that would try to get near them would get extra work and no holidays.
“I’m sorry for your future son or daughter-in-law,” Ezor commented.
“Don’t worry, you won’t survive long to see it,” Keith replied.
“I can’t really tell if you’re joking or not.”
“Good.”
The day was extremely long because Keith couldn’t wait to go back home and check how Sven and Siv were managing in an alien planet. Bickering with Ezor and Zehtrid made it tolerable, but he still escaped as soon as he finished his work and rushed to Krolia’s house.
Sven and Siv were at the table, doing their homework from the summer break. They waved briefly their hands at him. Krolia was arranging the table for dinner.
“How was the day?” he whispered to her.
“Good evening to you, too, Keith,” she replied, but she was mocking him. “Don’t worry, everything was fine. They’re good children, they’re just a little bit untrusting, but I don’t feel I can blame them.”
“Yeah.” Keith shot a look at them from the kitchen. “I was worried about the fact they’re Earthlings. Did they attract… some curiosity? I don’t want them to feel observed by strangers.”
“Well, Galra know how Earthlings look like. And you being a Paladin of Voltron and the head of the Blade of Marmora help. We are used to Earthlings.”
“That’s good.” He hoped it would be the same on Altea too.
“Dinner’s ready!” Krolia announced. Sven and Siv appeared a second later and took their seat. Kroliva joined them soon after. After his retirement by the head of the Blade, Kolivan spent his time writing his memories and making a blog about advices for young cadets, so he wasn’t resting at all and he didn’t look relaxed either.
He sat next to Krolia, with Siv’s eyes that followed him. After she took the first bit of food and she decided it was edible, she asked, “are you Keith’s grandpa?”
Krolia tried to hide her laugh under a cough. She failed. Kolivan was serious when he answered, “I sure hope no.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed.
“My father and my mother both died when I was young,” Krolia said. “They were Blade and the fight against Zarkon too. But I grow up with Kolivan, so he was kind of a big brother to me. A grumpy big brother.”
“So you’re Keith’s uncle,” Siv decided.
“I’m not sure I like it,” Kolivan replied.
“So many family members for an orphan,” Sven commented.
He noticed too late he talked out loud and pretended to focus on his food. Keith would let it slide, but Krolia didn’t.
“I left Keith when he was still a baby, and we didn’t meet until he was a big guy,” she said. “So, yeah, after his father’s death, he believed he was all alone. I don’t think finding me again invalidated the years he was actually alone.”
Sven didn’t answer, but he pressed his lips together. “Why did you leave?” Siv asked. There was a slightly accused tone in her words, and a slightly frown on her face.
“To protect him,” Krolia answered, with a sweet smile. “The Blue Lion was hidden on Earth and I had to make sure Zarkon wouldn’t find it. And I couldn’t do it remaining on Earth, so I had to leave.”
“Mom…” Keith began.
“It’s okay.” She shook her head. “That’s what happened.”
Sven licked the food out his fork. “You don’t really know about her?”
“No. I guess dad couldn’t tell me she’s an alien. I wouldn’t have believed him.” His expression fell. “For a long time, I believed she left me because she didn’t care enough about me.”
Sven lifted his head and look at him straight in the eyes, even if his expression is unreadable. “And you forgave her?” he asked.
“Well, I understood her motives. The war couldn’t give me back all those years but… I was happy to have her for the rest of my life.” Keith felt Krolia’s hand on his knee, behind the table, and shot them a short smile. He wasn’t lying, and she should know it.
“You know, those two,” Kolivan intervened. “I left them alone in a mission and they… disappeared, without even warning me of their move. And I was their boss! Like mother, like son.”
“It was an important mission, and it helped us finding out about Lotor’s plan,” Krolia replied.
“You should have at least sent me a message.”
“Oooh, tell me about this mission!” Siv exclaimed.
Keith smiled as he understood Kolivan was trying his best to deviated the conversation from a private part of their life. Even if Keith had no problem to talk about it with Sven and Siv so they could know him better, he appreciated the fact Kolivan didn’t want to talk about things that could sadden them. Maybe it was true Kolivan was like an uncle to him.
“Can we talk about the fact that you disappeared for like more than two years and the came back and forgot to tell us you had a half-breed child? Can you understand the shock I had when I meet this small alien that looked like you and had your blade?”
“Well, since you decided for him to risk his life in the Trial of Marmora, maybe I did well to hide it from you.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have done it, so we wouldn’t never find out about Keith’s heritage.”
“And you wouldn’t have defeated Zarkon.”
“Maybe, or maybe not. At least I wouldn’t have dealt with Keith screwing up every mission.”
“I did only once,” Keith protested. “And it was for saving Shiro.”
At that point, Sven laughed. It was the first time Keith saw him doing a full heart laugh instead of his little smirk and his snort. Everybody turned at him, Siv included. “Why am I not surprised?” Sven commented, at last.
“Well, I love him,” Keith said, defensive.
“You two are embarrassing.” But it was told with some kind of affection than made Keith’s heart beat faster.
After dinner, he called Shiro immediately to tell him the news. Things with Sven and Siv were actually getting better. But when Shiro answered, he had an expression Keith recognized immediately. He skipped the greetings and asked, “What happened?”
Shiro sighed. “Today I received a call from the orphanage’s headmaster.”
Keith froze. For a long second, he feared they wanted to take Sven and Siv from them and he did not dare to speak.
“They made some work in the port at Sven and Siv’s hometown in Norway,” Shiro explained. “They retrieved a car from the water.” He sighed again. “We have the confirmation that the bodies inside are their parent’s. They’re dead.”
Keith hold his breath for a second. “It was the most probably hypothesis.”
“I know. Still, we had to tell them. They… could still have a hope of their parents’ return.”
“You’re right.”
Keith closed his eyes. Unwilling, his mind turned back at the day his father’s colleague came to his school, along with the psychologist from the orphanage, to inform him of his father’s dead. It was still one of Keith’s worst day. Keith had no idea how to speak how to tell Sven and Siv without hurting them. And he didn’t want to hurt them in any way.
“We can wait until I arrive,” Shiro added. “We can tell them together. A couple of days more won’t be a problem, I guess. But they had to know.”
“I agree.” Keith opened his eyes and nodded. He was glad Shiro understood his pain without even telling him. “We told him together.”
Things had looked quiet, but now they had to open wounds again and brought everything back in the dark time. -
.
He needed a trump card.
Making allies and conquering lands wasn’t enough to give him an advantage over his father, Lotor knew it well. If he wanted to dethrone his father and get revenge on him Lotor needed something stronger than even Zarkon the Destroyer. Lotor wasn’t the kind of man that attack without knowing he had an advantage on his enemies.
And Lotor just found this advantage.
His generals were convinced Lotor’d decided to conquer Altea because it was a wealthy country, but still weak after the last war. Those weren’t the real reasons, but Lotor was going to use them nevertheless. King Shirogane’s fame was well known and Lotor was sure he wouldn’t risk another war in his kingdom, not if he could avoid it.
So Lotor put in army around the siege of Altea and, for the first day, he waited. He wasn’t surprised when General Axca announced him King Shirogane wanted to meet him for negotiation. Lotor expected it. He hoped it.
He welcomed him in his tend, offered him wine and sweet. Shirogane stood still, his face like stone.
“I’m not giving up my kingdom, I won’t surrender,” he stated. “It’s either we find an agreement or we fight.”
Lotor smiled. “I agree. And I have an offer for you that might be generous for both of you.”
Shirogane frowned. “An offer?”
“I will leave, with my army, and I swear I won’t attack Altea in the future either, not even when I’ll become the king of Galra,” Lotor stated. “In exchanged, I want your mage at my service.”
“No.”
The answer caught Lotor by surprise. Of course, he didn’t expect Shirogane to accept easily, but at the same time he didn’t anticipate such a quick denial.
“I suggest you to think carefully,” he murmured. “I understand having such a powerful mage at your service is precious, and losing him sounds terrible, but not even him alone can protect an entire kingdom.”
“My answer is still no,” Shirogane replied. “Keith suffered too much by the hand of Galra. I won’t force him to work for one of them.”
“Is that your only reason?”
“It doesn’t matter. I won’t accept this deal. Make another one, or we agree this negotiation is over.”
“Are you really putting a man over an entire kingdom? Your kingdom, King Shirogane.” Lotor’d believed Shirogane was better than that. That he would put the life of his people over everything else. “I will destroy Altea until his very core.”
“That we will see on the battlefield.” But Shirogane’s voice wasn’t as certain as his expression.
Lotor watched his back as Shirogane left the tent, wondering where he did wrong. He was sure the safety of the kingdom would be enough leverage. Lotor didn’t even ask for a complete surrender, he just asked for a man.
Unless…
A smirk erupted from Lotor’s lips. There could be a reason, something he hadn’t think careful enough. It didn’t matter: it could be the advantage he needed to get the mage. If, hopefully, the mage had the same feelings of the king.
His theory turned out to be correct the day after, during the battle.
His soldiers were well trained and more prepared than Altea’s, still the result of the battle wasn’t predictable, since the kingdom was protected by strong magic. Lotor didn’t care, he wasn’t planning to win at the first fight. He moved forward, well defended by his generals, until he was closer enough to fight directly with Shirogane.
He was a worthy opponent. Unfortunately, not a strong as Lotor. Fortunately for him, Lotor wasn’t planning to kill him, for now at least. In the middle of the battle it could be difficult to control the slash, so when Lotor struck the sword into Shirogane’s body, he hoped the wound wouldn’t be fatal.
And then, the mage appeared at Shirogane’s side.
“Lance, retreat!”
That desperate scream and the hatred Lotor saw in the mage’s eyes told him everything he needed to know.
“First warning,” he said.
With a last satisfied smile, Lotor ordered the retreat. Now he knew for sure he got an advantage over both the king and the mage. The wound seemed deep enough to take down Shirogane for at least a day. Lotor hoped the time would be enough for the mage to realize what his words truly meant.
He wasn’t disappointed, and that was important. Having someone smart enough to get the situation quickly and acted accord was important. He didn’t expect the mage to be brave enough to walk in his camp with only his red horse with him. It increased his admiration for him, though.
“I am Keith Kogane, the last of my lineage and the Master of the Blade of Marmora,” he announced. The soldiers looked at him, no one dared to get near.
“I know who you are,” Lotor replied. “Did your king send you here?” He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear that from Keith himself.
“No,” Keith admitted. “I am here to propose you a deal by myself. If that’s not a problem.”
“It depends. I want to hear your deal.”
“If I offer myself to you… as your personal mage… will you leave Altea forever?”
The warm of victory erupted from Lotor’s chest. He contained himself. He needed to make sure it was for real an advantageous deal for him. “I’m not sure. Altea is a kingdom I’d really want to conquer.”
“You want it more than having the only magic in the world that can nullify Zarkon’s immortality?”
Oh, so he knew. Lotor shouldn’t be surprised. Zarkon the Destroyer terrorized all the people of Earth from century now. It was immortal thanks to the magic of his personal witch, Haggar. The Blade of Marmora, the mages from the ancient kingdom of Daibazaal, had understood their only way to defeat Zarkon was to surpass Haggar’s spell. They were hunted down, but they managed to find a spell strong enough to turn Zarkon back in his human form. To make him weak.
And now, that magic is only possessed by the man in front of Lotor.
Keith was right: not even a wealthy country as Altea was worth more than the only advantages Lotor would have against Zarkon.
“How are the king’s wounds?”
“None of your concern.” Keith’s answer was almost a growl.
“You’re Altea’s only mage,” Lotor stated. “And the king doesn’t hide your preference for you.”
He waited for a second, to look carefully at the glint of surprise in Keith’s eyes. Lotor wondered if he’d realized how much Shirogane cared about him. Probably no, not yet. Lotor hoped he didn’t find out soon.
“Now Altea is weak because the recent war, but when they’ll recover… I don’t want them in my way, looking for you.” He hummed. “As a part of the deal, I want you to erase the memory of the entire kingdom. They won’t know you exist in the first place.”
Keith’s eyes widened. He swallowed. He waited a second before answered, with his eyes closed. “That’s fine by me. They won’t remember me, I’ll make sure of it.”
Words came out with difficulty. Keith knew what he would lose, and it was a lot worse than just leaving. Whatever relationship he had with the king, he would give up on it. Only to save him and his kingdom. In the same way, Shirogane would have made a similar sacrifice.
In some way, Lotor envied it. Such pure love was rare. But it was also dangerous.
Lotor nodded. He didn’t need to wait anymore, he knew enough of Keith’s weakness. “I, Prince Lotor of Galra, accept your deal,” he said.
As soon as Keith left, Lotor started to give orders to the army to prepare themselves for the departure. Some of the generals weren’t satisfied by the outcome, but Axca cut them out. She trusted Lotor enough, and so did his soldiers. They wouldn’t be disappointed once they would understand the importance of having Keith on their side.
Once everything was ready, Lotor took his horse, ready to move for the place where, by their agreement, Keith would wait for him. “Don’t you need an escort, your grace?” Axca asked.
“No,” Lotor replied. He was ready to fight Keith if the situation required it, but Lotor had the feeling – no, he knew for certain – that Keith wouldn’t risk a foolish action. Not if he could result in a danger for King Shirogane.
He reached the place: Keith was waiting for him, on his red horse. Lotor had sent a note to king Shirogane. It was a petty thing to do, gloating over the fact that Lotor had his mage now, but at the same time he gave him the certainty Shirogane lost his memory about Keith.
“I did not think you were really going to accept my deal,” he said. Not the deal of coming with him, but the deal of erasing everyone’s memories. Lotor feared Keith’s feeling would mistake him. Despite everything, they don’t.
“I'm a man of my word, Lotor. And I hope you are too."
“I am. My troops are packing up the camp and they will leave as soon as the fog dissipates. You don’t have to worry,” he replied with a smile.
“You…”
Keith didn’t end the sentence, and Lotor tilted his head. Was Keith just impressed by him? Did he really give himself up despite not being sure that it would save the kingdom, yet he did it nevertheless? Damn, Lotor underestimated Keith’s love for the king.
"You must have very good reasons to offer yourself, Keith Kogane, last of your lineage and Master of the Blade of Marmora, the most powerful magician of all the Unified Kingdoms, as a sacrifice instead of a whole kingdom.”
Lotor wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear from Keith’s mouth how much he loved the king.
“I am not going to discuss my reasons with someone like you.”
No, apparently there was still some pride in Keith. It didn’t really matter. Not only Lotor knew already the truth, but they had all the time together from now on. Defeating Zarkon wouldn’t be easy, even with the magic of the Blade of Marmora.
“Of course, of course. You're right. I don’t need to know why,” Lotor shrugged, smiling. Still, he didn’t refrain himself to add, “But I think there’s a certain King involved…”
"Enough. Just do your part. I... I will obey you from now on. I'm at your service.”
The laughter raised from his chest naturally. He wasn’t laughing for him, or for his sadness. Lotor was just so satisfied, so happy. He waited so long to find the advantage against Zarkon, to get the revenge over him. And now this advantage was in front of him, completely and utterly at his service.
Lotor’s hand itched from the excitement of the incoming battle against Zarkon.
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Let’s go.”
He pulled the rein as he ordered his black horse to return back on the path towards his army. He gestured at Keith, who moved forwards until he was at Lotor’s side. He didn’t look at him, his head was low and his eyes fixated on his horse’s mane.
Lotor turned to watch him carefully only when they saw his army appearing at the horizon. Until that moment, Lotor was too busy preparing his next move. Zarkon would get suspicious of him leaving Altea so easily. He would ask for a reason, and Lotor should hide Keith from the time being. So, he decided, they wouldn’t return to the capital for now.
There was another kingdom nearby, Pollux. They would conqueror that kingdom, and that would give Lotor enough time to elaborate a strategy that wouldn’t waste the advantage he just got. And the battle against Pollux would also allow him to see Keith’s abilities in person, at his service.
So he turned his head to look at Keith, and only then he noticed the bandages at his right wrist. He hadn’t had any wound when he’d come to negotiate. And the bandages looked intact, as they were made to hide something and not to protect.
“Why the bandages?” he asked.
Keith moved his arm to hide it over the sleeve of his tunic. “Nothing of your concern.”
Lotor grabbed the rein of the red horse and forced him to stop. “You said you’re at my service.” He looked at Keith straight in the eyes. “So show me what you’re hiding. That’s an order.”
Lotor was testing him, and, from the glint in his eyes, Keith understood it. Slowly, he took off the bandages and revealed a tattoo on his skin, a jasmine flower intertwined with wallflowers. It was beautiful, and definitely magic. No other tattoo could look like that, like they’re naturally part of the skin.
“Happy?” Keith commented.
Lotor released the rein. “I know what it is. It’s the seal of the soulmates.”
“How…?”
“I’m not a mage, but it would be stupid from me not being aware of magic,” Lotor replied. “You can’t defeat what you don’t know.”
“If you know what is it, you also know it’s not something dangerous for you.”
“Correct. I find it quite romantic, to be fair. It’s for the king, isn’t it?”
Keith didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His eyes were lucid and there was a slight blush on his cheeks.
“About this kind of spell… legends say the seal remains forever, even in future reincarnations of the people that exchange it. This is your plan? To die and hope to meet the king again?”
“No.” Keith shook his head. “As long as I live, the seal will protect the king too.” And he looked at Lotor with a smirk. “You won’t have a problem with it.”
“Fine for me.”
And it really was. Keith would do everything to survive, if it meant protecting Shirogane too. Lotor couldn’t ask better.
But Lotor wasn’t a monster. He didn’t care about what Keith was going to do in his next reincarnation, as long as he helped Lotor to defeat Zarkon in this live. So he can hope, and he can be happy, in a sort of way, imagining that in the next life Keith and the king would be lucky enough to find each other again.
Posts written by Akemichan |
