Work Text:
After requesting a very rare day off from captain Yami. Luck finds himself venturing off to the quaint village of Yvon, none other than the place where he was born and raised. Surprisingly a few people did manage to recognize him, after his sudden departure many years ago — but they didn’t reach out or say very much to him. Well, that’s fine with him. He didn’t care either way. Today, the sky’s overcast, packed with grey clouds. there’s a high chance of rain, yet the clouds merely hang there, accumulating until ready to burst with pouring rain. In a way, it’s similar to how people hold back tears while visiting the grave of a loved one.
The sky is holding back emotions, just as he is.
Luck approaches the grave, located behind their old house. Their home’s tattered and dirty now, more than it was in the past. Then again, that’s what happens when you leave your old life behind. It rots, deteriorates, left to eventually fade away.
But for now it continues to stand, along with her grave, which is much prettier now compared to their former home.
Instead of the old makeshift wooden cross previously put there before, there’s now a nice cut of stone in place. Her name, along with the birth and death date are printed nicely on the slab, just like the ones he saw in the Clover Capitol’s graveyard once. He had used a good half of his wages to make that possible, but he was happy to do so.
‘ **** Voltia. ‘
Some wild flowers grew alongside her grave while he was gone. That’s only fair, time does go on and so does the flow of nature, adapting to its environment. Just like he had, learning to properly deal with her absence over the years.
Within his own arms lie a messy bouquet (Luck wasn’t a florist by any means and it definitely shows) filled with an abundance of wildflowers, all different shapes and colors. It’s common knowledge for children to bring their mother's flowers freshly picked from a field, with big smiles stretched across their faces. Normal children, anyway.
He knows his attempts are far too late, but he tries. And better late than never, right?.
And he tries, just like he had all those years ago to force the tears out, put on a frown, anything — yet it was never good enough. He couldn’t make her happy. He couldn’t be a normal son.
Even now, he’s not sure what expression he should be making. Should he appear sad? Or try and look happy for her sake, so she doesn't continue to stress in heaven? For now, Luck does what he’s used too, and gently sets the bouquet down with a big smile.
“Heya, mom. I’m home!”
His voice settles into the vast outdoors. The area around him’s silent, with the exception of the gentle sound of wind sifting through the trees. It’s both calming and disturbing, how he finds comfort not receiving a response back. Usually he lived for the sound of her voice, now, he’s almost relieved with the silence.
Luck takes a seat down on the bare ground, legs crossed, smile outstretched just like it had always been around her.
"You’ll never believe it, but I became a magic knight! And I’ve been winning tons of battles too.”
Would she dismiss his achievements or would she be pleased to hear such great news?
“I lost some too. But, those losses helped me grow even stronger.”
The scent of rain tickles his nose and he sniffles, it’s only grown more pungent since he’s’ come here. Maybe there’s a storm coming?
No, the rain’s always smelt bitter in Yvon.
There isn’t a single happy memory here.
Without warning Luck claws at the earth below him, nails saturated with dirt as the wet smell begins to settle deep within his nostrils. The knee-jerk reaction surprises him and he quickly folds his hands back to his knees, like it never happened. Without really knowing why, the more he sits here, the more uncomfortable he becomes. Feeling them go numb, Luck quickly switches around his crossed legs, subsequently letting his smile grow as he thinks of more topics to discuss, a feeble attempt to feel more at ease.
“Anyway, I joined the Black Bulls!” He laughs fondly, seemingly sincere this time. “They’re notorious for causing trouble, and I cause lots of it. But — ” his words stop in the form of a pregnant pause, and then, his mouth eases into a more natural expression.
“I do good too. Lots of it. I think … you might even be proud of me. ”
Throughout his entire childhood, he’s only ever received praise from her once. Since then, it’s become an obsession to keep on winning, the staples that kept him from breaking at the seams. He had to succeed, never accept help from anyone or let them step all over them, just like others had their entire lives.
Come to think of it, they never had it easy. Had they?
She raised him all by herself. His father wasn’t around. Truthfully, Luck never really questioned it, because all he needed in his life was his mother. Though deep down, he felt that it had deeply affected her in ways a child couldn’t comprehend.
The townspeople constantly gossiped negatively about them both. How she had to deal with a problem child all the time. Most children cry whenever they fall or hurt themselves. He never did. Luck realized very quickly that he wasn’t like other kids. Back then, he never shed a single tear or showed traces of anger. No, he couldn’t stop that eerie smile from spreading across that childish visage of his.
His mother couldn’t wipe it off either, no matter how desperately she tried.
Not even that one day, where she smacked him so hard it made him stumble and fall backward onto the hardwood floor. She tried anything to invoke some kind of different reaction. He distinctly recalls the lingering sting, the throbbing pain, a red blotch that stained his cheek for several days, yet despite all that — he continued to smile back at her.
Luck presses a hand to that same cheek she hit all those years ago. Smile absent from his face.
“ You know .... It hurt when you did that.”
His usual chipper voice rumbles low, like the thunder charging up above him. One might even say that he sounded … upset.
Though it’s only for a brief moment as his smile returns, this time apologetic, his eyes full of solemn regret.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t show it.”
Perhaps if he cried more at trivial things, threw a few silly temper tantrums here and there, she wouldn’t have dropped dead like she did, right in front of him no less.
If only he were born normal.
Going quiet, Luck brings his knees closer to his chest and hugs them. While it’s been a great comfort thus far, his Black Bull's robe doesn’t do much against the sudden influx of cold air swirling through his old backyard. Shivering, Luck interlocks his fingers together to keep his knees firmly tucked in. Kinda like he was giving himself a comforting hug he scarcely got back then.
The wind howls louder, wails out in sorrow, like a lonely black bull. As sprinkles of water descend downward from the darkly clouded sky, Luck bites down on his bottom lip, hunches in over himself and for the first time today, in a very long time, lets the rain fall.
“I’m real sorry, Mom —”
“LUCK! There you are!”
Hearing the random voice call out to him Luck sits up and stiffens. He digs his dirty nails into his knees until they puncture through to his skin, forming marks of red. He doesn't wince or anything. Knowing exactly who it is, he keeps looking explicitly forward, not daring to turn back while tears spill from his eyes.
“Jeez It was a real pain to track you down, you know that? But nothing I couldn’t handle.” Magna grins widely, his footsteps approaching closer.
Hastily, Luck brings his hands up to his reddened eyes and wipes the tears away, but it’s painfully obvious that he had been crying. It’s not like Magna hasn’t seen him cry before, but back then, he perked up relatively fast and went back to the battlefield.
Now, there isn't a battlefield in sight. He doesn’t know if he can stop the waterworks or the increasing ache in his heart from swallowing him whole.
Before he can fully compose himself, a familiar gloved hand finds it's way onto his shoulder, so warm and comforting — he’s undeserving of such a loving touch.
“Luck?”
He doesn’t respond. His lips wobble weakly.
“Uh, Heeello?” He enunciates, raising a brow while nudging his shoulder. “Hey! You going deaf on me buddy? —”
Peering past that unruly tuft of blond hair, Magna notices the tombstone, along with the bouquet of hand-picked flowers. Instantaneously, he begins to piece together the reason as to why Luck came out here today without so much as a word to the others.
“Oh.”
Good going, dumbass.
“Uh, hey. So who’s this — “
Luck sniffles and raises his head slightly, still refusing to look him in the eye.
“ ... My mother.”
“Oh.”
For awhile the two just stand there, rainwater slowly soaking both their clothes as they reside there in complete, awkward silence. That is, until one of them decides to give in and speak.
Luck shrugs and crosses his arms, reading the same, boring scripture off the tombstone over and over.
“What're you doing here, Magna?” His tone isn’t accusatory, nor angered, rather it sounds … empty, almost lifeless.
Magna lifts his hand off from his shoulder. Luck shivers, it’s cold again. He's learning he hates the cold.
“Well I thought it was a little weird you went off on your own. Taking a day off no less, so I asked Yami where the hell ya went and ... he told me.”
Well, it’s not like Luck didn’t tell the captain not to tell anyone where he was headed. That’s his own fault.
“Okay.” He mumbles, feeling both the rain and tears trickle down his face.
“What? Okay, That’s it?” He huffs, like he's offended by such a short, half-hearted response.
“Look,” Luck raises his voice, lips briefly forming into a strained smile, until it breaks under the building pressure, shifting back into a heavy frown. “I’m not any fun like this so … just leave.”
This time his emotions start revealing themselves. His tone isn’t cheerful. Instead it’s painfully sour, more bitter than the cups of black coffee their captain downs on a daily basis. One might even call it threatening, how he demands him to leave. Most normal people would.
Though, no one in the Black Bulls is normal.
Magna stands there and props a stray hand onto his hip.
“Wow, you’re this upset?”
Luck grits his teeth and whips his head back, and then he shouts, more frustrated than he's ever been in his entire life.
“I SAID GO! —”
“Hell, never thought I’d live to see the day — but you’re halfway there, being honest with yourself.” Magna remarks and pays no mind to his little outburst, instead walking closer to his fellow squadmate.
“But, you really don't want me to leave.”
Dumbfounded, Luck’s short bout of anger disappears from existence entirely, and he gives him a squinty, puzzled look.
“Huh? —”
“Besides even if you did, you’re stupid to think that i’d leave my best friend here in the rain to grieve all alone.”
“ … Grieve?” Luck repeats the word back to himself, as if it were a foreign language.
“You miss her, right? Your mom?”
“I … ” Luck pauses pensively, taking his sweet time to answer. “No.”
“You don’t?”
“Yes … and no,” he clarifies, wiping any stray tears and snot that cover his face. “I grieved in my own way, when she passed. And … maybe I still am grieving, but ... ”
As he struggles to find the words Magna doesn’t grow impatient, instead he takes a seat right next to him, switching from glancing at his friend, to the tombstone in front of them. He doesn’t rush him to talk, not once. And behind those punk-like glasses are eyes; a gaze filled with odds amounts of understanding and patience. Was this really Magna Swing next to him?
“I feel bad. I have regrets. ”
The cold air hits his damp clothes and sends another shiver down his back. Naturally, as expected Magna braces the crappy weather without any complaint. "Just like a real man would," he humorously thinks, keeping the inappropriate thought to himself for once. Luck shuts his eyes and gradually collects his lost composure. While he still doesn’t smile, he seems to be calming down from his earlier outburst.
“My mom raised me all by herself without any help. I wasn’t a normal kid. All I did was smile and stress her out until the day she dropped dead.”
He looks up towards the vast dreary sky, allowing droplets of water to roll off his face, wanting to cleanse himself from the confusing emotions that run wild inside him. He watches as faint rays of light form, determined to try and peek through, but they remain covered by thick, puffy clouds.
“Yet, she didn’t try and get rid of me either. She wanted me to stay by her at all times, because I wasn’t normal.”
Magna nods, showing that he’s still here, and listening too. That’s also comforting.
“When she died, It’s like she took part of me with her. Sure I carried on, and kept on winning and fighting for her sake, all by myself with no one’s help. I thought that if I didn’t, then she would stop loving me.”
Steadily, traces of light begin peaking through the once dense clouds.
“I joined the Black Bulls, I met you, then with more time I realized ... it’s just no fun fighting all by yourself.”
Magna cracks a tiny smile and hugs his own knee and studies his friend’s face, how the color gradually returns the more he opens up, hitting that long-needed breakthrough.
“I stopped living just for her. Then afterwards, I began to smile more sincerely. I felt down a few times, sad, frustrated. Not just for my own sake, but others too. Kinda like a normal person.”
“So," Magna playfully nudges his side. "What’s the problem?”
Luck turns to look at him, and now, he smiles back, albeit pensively.
“I … couldn’t do all that with her. So, I hope she’s okay with that. I loved her, but I couldn’t give her what she wanted in the end. A normal kid.”
Magna straightens up and takes out a dry rag from his pocket, then removes his glasses, shooting him an earnest look. “Can I say something?”
Luck blinks. “Sure.”
“I think you couldn’t do it back then ... because you were being forced.” Manga carefully dries the water off his sunglasses, not missing a beat with his words. “You keep going on about how she was always stressed, but, i’m sure you were too right? I mean, constantly trying to act the part of “normal” then later developing this crazy obsession of winning all the time, all just to please her? Hell, no wonder you couldn’t get pissed or cry your eyes out.”
Luck sits there, astonished by his words and how mature they sound.
“Listen, Luck. Stuff like that? Emotions, they’ve gotten come to you naturally, with time. Otherwise, it’s no good; like a dud.” Magna sighs, putting his sunglasses back on. Now, he faces his fellow black bull properly.
“Look I'm sure you two did love each other in your own, weird, voltia-family way. But,” He moves his hand back onto Luck’s shoulder, a firm, consoling touch. “You’re able to properly express yourself now, because you didn’t focus solely on your mom’s sake anymore. ”
“Huh,” Luck looks down in thought, thinning his lips together in a straight line. He supposes that did make sense. Though it’s a bit of a shellshock, hearing something so wise coming from a street-punk like Magna. Oddly, Luck wouldn’t want it any other way.
Magna takes a gander up at the clear sky.
“You don’t just fight for her sake anymore. Now you fight for the Clover kingdom, your friends, and yourself. And as crazy and messed up as you are, we love that about you. We’re happy for you and … I’m sure she is too, wherever she is.” Magna gives his shoulder a reaffirming pat, before standing up to stretch.
“Alright, I’m sure you’ve still got some things you wanna say, so I’ll get out yer’ hair.”
As he goes to walk away to give him some privacy, Luck tugs at the chain connected to his leather pants, stopping him dead in his tracks.
“No, I’m alright,” Luck reassures, looking up at him with a tenderly crafted smile, one straight from the heart. Magna immediately goes quiet, giving him a weird look. Since when did this little battle freak smile like that?
“Uh, you sure?”
“Mhm.” He curls a finger into the loop of the chain, the metal's wet and cold from the rain, but it’s not unpleasant. “I don’t mind if you stay. Actually, I’d prefer it if you did.” Well if he’s going to be honest with himself, it might as well start with his best friend.
Catching the hint, Magna sighs and sits back down, rubbing at the back of his neck once more. “Alright, but I’m not very good around graves and stuff.”
Removing his finger, Luck smiles and lets out an airy laugh. He feels the sunshine break through the clouds and hit his damp cheeks, warming them right up. “That’s okay. Just a few more minutes, then we can head back! Okay?”
So bright, how his face naturally gleams in the light, just like the sun after a terrible, dreadful storm. It’s so sincere that Magna can’t help but chuckle and smile back. He swings an affectionate arm around the blond’s shoulder and tugs him in close.
Yeah.”
Luck leans his head against his shoulder and shuts his weary blue eyes, shamelessly indulging in just how warm Magna was. Maybe he was just cold from all that rain, but it felt nicer than usual.
Real nice.
A half hour passes and after bidding farewell to his mother and the village, the two end up marching back to the forest to where Magna had parked his Crazy Cyclone nearby. Seriously, you couldn’t miss it if you tried.
Normally, Luck would fly in the air besides him, maybe taunt him with the idea of a race. However, this time he sits on the back of Crazy Cyclone, arms secured safely around Magna’s waist with a giddy grin. Surprisingly, he doesn’t question it too much and instead revs up the broom's engine with his mana. Seconds later, they’re both flying through the air, nothing to trouble or bother them.
“Hey, Magna?” Luck calls out his name, peeking his head out from over his shoulder.
“Yeah?” He cranes his head back.
Luck (wearing what appears to-be the happiest grin today) bounces forward and nuzzles his face into the back of his neck, enjoying the musk scent of the sweat and crackled firewood. Like the smell of home. Filled with nothing but happy, pleasant memories. He feels the heat suddenly increase (probably Magna blushing profusely) and lets out a loud, joyful laugh.
“Thank you.”