Chapter Text
“Oh gods, what has happened to you all?”
“The age of Titans has fallen, and only heroes can bring hope.”
“One day, the nameless Deliverer will inherit the gods’ Coreflames…
And reform, this broken world…”
“STAND WITH ME! AND BECOME HEROES!”
-
A blonde man jerks awake, sweat moistening his brow and his mouth formed into a name his throat has never known. He groans faintly and scrubs his face with work roughened hands.
“Another pointless dream…” he mumbles, the details of his subconscious already falling from his mind like an outstretched palm fails to hold water. Glancing outside his generous window, his golden gaze only sees dark, oppressive cloud cover. It has been countless years since a ray of their blue sun has been spotted, but the man is drawn to check every morning nonetheless.
His mother always called him her little gladiator, for how fiercely he vied to find a hint of the sunlight. Every morning, he would wrestle the other children of their shared household for the tallest stool, a playful, hopeful ritual of the day. For as long as his memory serves, there was never a trace of the glow that could signal a revival of Edo Star.
Sometimes, he imagines the shade of blue. Light, yet warm. Blazing, yet gentle.
He does not know where these images come from.
He simply continues his morning routine, as his duty demands, side stepping the too-large furniture in his too-small apartment. His mother is long dead and most of the other children squashed in the mines their overseers demand. However, it all affects him only as much as his muscles burn from the previous day’s work. Only as tired as a night of too little sleep with a new book. Yes, he muses, to continue his passion there is infinite worth in his own pain.
His work bag packed with lunch, the man hesitates at his front door. His stomach is doing flips, and the air entering his lungs burns like he has been running a marathon.
Nonetheless, he pushes open his door. He cannot afford to be late, or his supervisor will have his head for another claim of insubordination. As he locks his door, thinking on the masochism of the punishments Juliard favors-
He misses the background screaming in his head.
He misses the begging of his subconscious to seek out the color, the heat, the memori-
-
He does not see the single ray of azure sunshine strike his window.
-
“Well well well, look what the chitera dragged in!” a Heaven detachment member calls after the blonde man.
Said man rolls his eyes viciously, but reigns himself in from anything further. The Heaven detachment is not worth his energy. Maybe a long time ago, before his spirit had been spat on by them and ground into the blackened dirt, he might have said something.
He daydreams often about fighting back.
About listening to the background noise of his brain that screeches that there is more to this.
To life.
They are relative newcomers to his planet, yet they are the highest authority. His status demands his obedience, but it need not demand his soul.
“Ooooo look at that Bullar, he’s soo brave for ignoring us!” The blonde hears Nivod crow. Resolute, he hurries along to turn the next corner. He is completely calm for sure, no reason to move quickly other than keeping up the pace of the day. Yes, he simply wishes to be early to roll call to watch the daily projection of the sun’s placement.
They are not calling after him anymore.
He glances behind at the detachment employees.
They are loud people, vocal in what they want from Edo Star citizens. Quiet is wrong, quiet means plotting, means there is a grudge against you, means you need to watch carefully and move along before they decide you are the next piece of meat to conquer-
Nivod and Bullar’s eyes stick to his hips and the subtle sway as he walks.
His stomach turns.
Around twenty more steps until he is out of their sight.
Fifteen…
Nivod turns to share a leer with Bullar.
Ten…
Bullar makes a crude gesture, dragging his fingers down his arms with intent.
Five…
…
He will not make it.
“Hey, Hikui.”
He pauses for a single second.
His fear steals him for that moment.
Hikui.
A moment is all Bullar needs to be by his side.
Grinning, lecherous, “How’s about you come with me and Niv for the day, hm? I’m sure Juliard won’t care too much - long as we give you back in enough pieces to put together!” Boisterous laughter erupts from the pair.
The sweat on his brow is cold.
His muscles, developed as they are, are just more deadweight for his head to lift.
Nivod wraps a possessive arm around his shoulders, breaths fast with excitement.
A mouth, close enough to his ear to caress, a mockery of a lover. It stinks as bad as his personality. “Come along, Hikui, Bullar had the most wonderful idea earlier and,” lips nibble cartilage, slimy spit lingering on the lobe, “I would hate to waste any of Juliard’s time.”
Both large men flanking him, he can do nothing except stay frozen and be nudged along.
-
Seconds too late, a woman stalks through the hallway. She may wear the same uniform as Nivod and Bullar, but she has a different head on her shoulders.
The workday is only now beginning, yet she has the distinct feeling she is missing something.
Hmm… it is a rare feeling, foreign, since she is the top of her class.
The clawing urgency that overtakes her during the night is here now.
-
“I don’t know Fain! I’ve said as much as I can tell!” The cafe is serving lunch today, and the woman is joining her best friend.
Fain sighs, running his fingers through white-blonde hair. “Rist, you are the smartest, most capable person in this star system. Saying that, what the fuck is up with you?”
Rist snorts, barely saving her shirt from a new coffee stain. Their server stops by, cheerily dropping down the pair’s sandwiches before moving on.
“Yeah… I know it’s vague. I’m not certain it’s even something to pursue,” Rist pauses, winding a finger around a loose piece of lavender hair, “But I’m haunted by it! I can’t go anywhere in the mines these days without feeling like…ugh…”
“Like there’s someone to save?” Fain supplies quietly, thinking back on Rist’s past rants.
“... Yeah,” she mumbles, dramatically plopping her front onto their small table.
“Hey! Watch it!” Fain desperately grabs for his sandwich, only just managing to grab it before Rist’s floppy arms smush it. Protectively hunching his body over the food, he flails a hand in Rist’s direction. “Zero respect for good food! ZERO!!”
The woman chuckles lightly and sits back properly in her chair, before a downright evil smile makes itself at home on her face.
Fain, reasonably and with an appropriate amount of self-preservation, shoves his remaining sandwich half in a pocket Rist cannot get to.
“Oh don’t worry, your stupid sandwich is safe. But the same can’t be said for the privacy of your love life,” Rist’s eyes gleam, remembering the state she found her patrol partner in that morning.
Fain promptly stands, checking his wrist for a clock that is not there, “Wow! Would you look at that! Lunch break is just about over and I have a good deal of training to get through this afternoon! You should go ahead and go to your afternoon assignment too!”
The inadvertent confirmation of her theory only widens the smile splitting Rist’s face. “That amount of blood in your face surely can’t be healthy,” she lightly points out.
Fain yelps, shoving his beet-red cheeks into his loose patrol jacket. “You did not see anything! This morning or right now! Am I not allowed to speak freely with Juliard’s miners anymore? They are good, salt of the earth people, it should be no problem at all to observe and compliment their work!”
Rist hums, “Yeah, you definitely are right.”
“I do not want to hear- huh?” Fain dumbly stares at her.
“You definitely can speak freely with them about the salt you want to lick off their biceps.”
“...”
“...”
“RIIIIIST!”
-
“Hyah!” an exhalation, pointed.
“Oof-” a counterpoint, pained.
“Hmph!” a finale, a victory hard won.
Fain bows to his defeated opponent, a handler he has sparred since he was a boy.
The bulky man mirrors it, still clutching his side where Fain’s practice blade struck the ‘killing’ blow. “I am glad to see this excellence from you today, Fain. This is just the beginning of many assessments that will set you on track for officer.”
Fain cannot stop his bright grin, “Thank you, sir! I will not let you or our grand Heaven down!”
Patting his younger’s head, the man limps off for a quick infirmary check.
Fain nearly bounces over to the water station, gulping from his bottle with his eyes wandering out the window. This training room is on the twenty-fifth level of the detachment, easily towering over all the local buildings and giving the best view of nightfall.
There may not be a sun in direct vision to follow, but the darkening clouds may as well be the same thing. Edo Star is a land of eternal darkness, and Fain is grateful his progress in his studies brings him closer to solving it. Many Heaven scientists have examined the planet, and determined only one in every new generation is capable of dismissing the clouds and bringing them back to self sustainability.
Without rations brought in and crops given artificial sunlight by the Heaven detachment, the planet would have died long ago.
Fain is among the selection of people who may have the capability to help Edo Star, despite not being a native. This is a solemn duty he bears, and he refuses to allow anyone else to shoulder it. The people from Heaven are more than enough to teach him Edo Star’s ways and how to be the savior they need.
For instance, his training in multiple combat forms is a boon for the body and mind. No one quite knows yet what condition Fain needs to be in to fulfill his duty, so the general consensus was ‘exceptional.’
To understand the people he serves and fights for, he lives among the peacekeepers of Heaven. His most often assigned patrol partner is Rist, a prodigy of the detachment, and their normal assignment is to exemplify to him the best ways to settle the planet’s people.
Fain absentmindedly runs a hand along his neck, finding the scar now turned tattoo.
The violence is sunk deep into this world, he has been taught.
They fight Heaven at every step, woefully ignorant of what they could gain by allowing Heaven’s guidance and technology.
On one of his first patrols, before Rist had been constantly assigned to him, an older woman caught him off guard.
She appeared sweet, a quirked smile adorning her countenance. Always the helper, he leaned in close to hear her raspy request.
“Adorned… in splendor… bathe in gold… time to cut fate’s thread.”
Fain jerks his wandering, traitorous hand back to his side.
An ornery old woman tried to kill him, nothing more and nothing less. Yet, she somehow knew of his status, despite that information being some of the most protected on Edo Star.
Whatever power she imbued in her blade also caused a half circle to bloom from the scar, seeming like the world’s most pointless tattoo. Soon after that was when Fain’s handlers began only allowing him in the streets with a tall collar.
… He will never tell any of them, and he will never again reveal his neck to them.
But…
When he met Rist for the first time and they shook bare hands, he could feel a pulsing in his jugular.
That evening, Fain had given a hasty goodbye and rushed to his quarters, somehow looking only slightly more unhinged than normal.
His door locked and blinds securely closed, he allowed trembling hands to tug off his overcoat, then his classic turtleneck.
… It had been many years since he last received aggressive training, and he knew that if this was ever seen he would have to endure those trials again.
So, Fain carefully tucks his colored-in half sun to every high collar, using body tape to ensure it never moves.
He does not fear his Heaven; they are the saving grace of this planet, he is their tool to mold. He will eventually be at the helm of the effort to resuscitate Edo Star, it is his purpose.
Yet sometimes… Fain inhales deeply to draw himself out of the pit that is his thoughts.
He is on the training floor and he is succeeding in bearing the weight of his purpose, he is seeing the mockery of light disappear from the streets, he can spot the triplets shutting down their shop for the night, he can see the streetlights kicking on, he can see the miners changing shifts.
He can grip the cold metal of the window sill, he can rest his forehead on the glass that has never felt a warm sun, he can feel himself mechanically swallow his remaining water, he can feel the sweat beginning to crust his socks.
He can hear the spars behind him, he can hear the fans working overtime to cool the spacious room, he can hear the faint voices of a desk group walking around the corner.
He can smell the food someone heated in the microwave, he is beginning to smell himself develop a ripe tone from so long frozen after training.
He can taste the traces of blood from where his handler landed a right hook.
…
The shrill tone of the floor bell signals thirty minutes until light’s out.
Fain allows himself a moment to recall the punishment ceremony of the old woman. It had been a clinical event, and she walked out blind in both eyes.
She will never see anyone again to harm them.
Fain is, even now, distantly happy that he had begged for her mercy. She is the only thing close to family for the triplets, and he would never be able to live with himself if he took that.
Snatching his string bag from his cubby, Fain meets up with a few other people departing for their quarters. He allows their warmth to fill him up as they casually joke and play shove each other. The adrenaline high from his workout is long gone, but the warmth of companionship will settle him for the night.
-
There is a scream echoing the halls.
No one is there to hear them at this hour, all the mining work conducted far away.
Nearly all of the Heaven detachment are sleeping.
Far underground beneath the city, murky eyes see the scream.