Chapter Text

Fantasia, Chapter 1
Spark 

From the beginning, she was trained as a weapon. How young was she, when the sessions first started? Five? Six? She didn’t remember the exact time it started, but she would never forget how it felt.

She was aware of her Storm from the very instant of her birth. The precise details weren’t something she could remember, but her imagination easily recreated the scene — a child crying in distress, doctors frantic to save her mother, no one able to touch her safely— 

And the first memory she could properly remember? 

“Papa, where’s Mama?”

“Gone.” 

“When is she coming back?” 

“Never.”

“But why?” 

He’d stared at her for a long moment then, something hard in his dark eyes. 

“Because of you.”

She hadn’t really understood it then, but the accusation in her father’s tone didn’t escape her notice, and she’d understood instinctively that she’d done something terribly, terribly wrong. 

The training was always in the basement of their house, just him and her. There wasn’t any equipment — there couldn’t be. In the end, Storm wasn’t real lightning, and so even sophisticated lightning-rod systems weren’t of any use. 

No, the only way to train a Storm Aberrant was to pray that you got lucky and survived it.

Mari trembled, curled up into a ball on the floor. Her short brown hair laid matted against her scalp as sweat poured down her face, sparks skittering off of her hands. 

“It...hurts...” she gasped out, crimson eyes narrowed in pain. 

“Don’t complain. Learn to control it, or it will consume you, Marisa,” her father said, an aged man with short grey hair and hard eyes. “And then you will kill everyone around you.”

Whimpering, she managed to clench her fist. The vibrant blue mana swirling around her hand fizzled out, brought back under her control. With it left most of the pain, leaving behind only periodic harsh, stabbing bursts of heat. She’s too young to restrain herself from checking, each and every time, to see if she was bleeding from a new wound. 

“I don’t want to do this, papa...” she sniffled.

“It is your duty,” a cold voice answered. “I told you to stop complaining, didn’t I?” 

Mari nodded wordlessly, something inside of her breaking at the realization that she couldn’t trust him, her papa , to care about her, no matter what else he said. 

'I don’t wanna hurt anyone', she thought to herself. 'I don’t wanna use any of this Storm, so why do I have to do this? Why does papa make me do this?'

She didn’t have an answer to that question until much later. She certainly didn’t have it a few days later, when her body had healed enough for her to try again. 

And again, a few days later.

At the age of six, she called him ‘father’ instead of ‘papa’. 

It was the only life she knew up until the age of seven, where she was enrolled into the South Academy. Unsurprisingly, she was an exceptional student — her physical parameters were leagues beyond anyone else’s, and she’d been training her mana every chance her father could make her. She was not a genius by any means, but she wasn’t an idiot, either, and her grasp over her body and power was good enough to easily keep her in the upper quarter of the students. 

That being said, her practice didn’t mean she had real control over her Storm. If anything, she could at least direct it towards where she wanted it to go. Her work, though, did mean that she usually wasn’t an active threat to everyone around her — at least, so long as she wasn’t startled. Mostly. 

Of course, that meant she needed to be treated rather specially — her instructors ensured that every kid was aware of what she could do in a moment of carelessness. She wasn’t allowed to spar with anyone, either, so her hand-to-hand style was rather rough, patched together from what she saw and what she read.

Unsurprisingly, her special circumstances meant that she didn’t make any friends. Equally unsurprisingly, no one was willing to bully her when she might accidentally kill them, and so she was merely isolated instead of ostracized. 

She didn’t take much comfort in that. 

To her chagrin, she couldn’t stop other people from getting bullied, either, even though she wanted to. Her Storm Aberration meant that a disabling hit might become a lethal one, so she was forced to walk away even though she would’ve preferred to step in. 

As time passed, Mari began learning to hide from her father, knowing that she’d be pulled into another awful training session should she be found. At first, he found her easily — whenever her emotions spiked, her already terrible control slipped, and she wasn’t the type of girl to be able to sit still for long — so she adapted by exiting the house entirely, running away when the stress of it all got too much for her to handle. In the process, she became familiar with the South Sector, and in particular with a small, hole-in-the-wall, family-owned business. 

Crimson eyes stared balefully up at the pouring rain, a window separating the two. The heat of her anger wasn’t sufficient to quell the downpour that trapped her inside the restaurant she slipped into. Business was slow that day, it seemed, as there was no one there but her and an elderly lady. Otherwise, she would feel bad about the booth that she was occupying. 

“What is the matter, young lady?” the woman asked, sitting across from her. Mari, startled, turned to face her. 

“Uhm...nothing,” she responded instinctively. 

Surprisingly sharp blue eyes pinned her in place. “Something must trouble you to bring such a displeased look to your face.” 

Mari shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to impose on your time, miss.” 

Now ten — twelve, Mari corrected mentally, twelve because of the medicine — the girl had learned to make as little trouble as possible. Her very existence, after all, was an inconvenience. 

'At least, Father has made that much clear to me. My continued failure to control my Storm to his liking...well, maybe I ought to hit him with a little of it, and show him how easy it was to control! '

She shoved the thought down deep into her mind, knowing that she shouldn’t let that fester. More and more, recently, she’d been troubled by thoughts like that.

'All I brought was trouble.'

“Nonsense,” the woman said, waving a wrinkled hand. “When you become as old as I am, young lady, you will find that any distraction, good or bad, becomes welcome.” 

“Bad, then,” Mari mumbled. “I’m a bad girl.” 

The old lady hummed thoughtfully. “Now why would you say such a thing?”

“I just cause trouble.” The rain slowed, and Mari seized her chance, scrambling out of the booth. “You are a nice person, so I should leave before I cause problems for you.”

The elderly woman sighed. “I can not stop you if I tried, but please know that you are welcome here should you like to return.”

“Thank you,” Mari said insincerely, not planning on ever returning. Bowing briefly, she made her escape. 

'She was nice. Too nice to me. I don’t want to impose on someone as nice as her.'

“Once again, my Storm only causes me more trouble,” she muttered darkly under her breath, safely ensconced in her bed. She flinched, feeling another lightning strike. Moments later, the thunder rumbled, causing her to tremble. 

One of the side effects of her Storm Aberration was that she was completely incapable of sleep while in the vicinity of a thunderstorm. It was just another reason to hate what was inside of her, as far as she was concerned. 

'I need to get out of here,' she thought to herself. Mind made up, she slipped out of her room, past her sleeping father — 'he’s not a very good Lunari, is he', she thought darkly to herself — and out of the house. 

The rain would normally bother her, but in her frustrated state, with her blood running so hot, it steamed off of her before long, and the cold went utterly unnoticed. A patrolling Lunari briefly checked on her to make sure she was okay — she sparked — and he backed off, understanding.

Somewhere in the village, perhaps there was a particularly potent Lightning Aberrant who wandered the village, unable to sleep as well. But the majority of people, Mari knew, were probably all asleep already. 

'Lucky', Mari thought to herself, scowling. 'They get to go home and hug the people they love. And I...'  she paused. 'I don’t have anyone,' she realized. 

For a moment, she was struck silent by the profound feeling of loneliness that realization brought with her. She would be alone, now and forever. That realization took away her breath, and for a moment, she could barely stand under the sadness that brought her.

Then, in a rush, the sadness was swept away by the anger she'd suppressed for so long. 

“Emotions are unnecessary,” she mocked bitterly, mimicking her father’s lecturing tone as she kicked a rock along the road. “You should be grateful over your powers. They’re God’s gift to you.” 

She snarled, clenching her fists. “God killed my mother! And he left me with you, father! " Mana sparked from her hands. “This isn’t a gift! This is a curse!” 

No one answered her, save for the falling rain. 

“What did I do?” Mari asked, pausing to look up at the night sky. “What did I do to deserve this?! I’ve tried to be good, haven’t I?! I’ve tried really hard. So why...?” 

She looked back down, angry tears in her eyes. Not for the first time, she contemplated death, but the thought that her mother might be waiting for her was sufficiently terrifying for her to reject the thought quickly. 

'She probably hates me too.'

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Mari glanced up to find herself outside a certain restaurant she hadn’t been to in several months. Blinking in surprise, she moved to turn away, but the open door caught her attention. 

'They were open now? In this weather?'

She closed her eyes, breathing in, breathing out, then taking in one breath, concentrating on pulling her mana deeper within her. When she was satisfied that her mana aura was as suppressed as could be, she snuck inside, slipping through the door as quietly as possible. No one was in the front, but the lights in the back were on—

“I told you, we do not have money to spare. Now leave the premises!” 

She recognized the voice of the elderly lady that had shown her kindness. Narrowing her eyes, she crept closer to the entrance of the back room, listening intently—

“I don’t believe you,” a rougher, masculine voice said, a threatening tone in his voice. “Anybody who lives in the Inner Ring’s gotta have some cash on them. Now tell me where your safe is, or I’ll put a bullet through you!” 

What little patience Mari held fled, and she rushed in, no longer suppressing her mana. Sparks skittered off of her, lighting the way effortlessly as she dashed into the back room. A man was there, a gun in his hands, pointed towards the woman — but he was turning! 

One of the first things taught to Lunari was how to react to a gun — they were some of the most common weapons used by civilians, and were legitimate threats until a Lunari could effectively use elemental reinforcement. Mari wasn’t quite that skilled yet, but she’d managed to get the drop on the man, and adrenaline pushed her forward. 

The man was fast. He managed to get the gun facing her — but that was all, as her small hand slapped the barrel of the gun so hard that it was sent skittering to the side. Her other hand, sparking with electric-blue mana, jabbed him in the chest. Screaming in agony, the man collapsed, still jerking from the shock and a smoldering mark left on the front of his clothes.  

Mari grinned, baring her teeth at the man, before remembering herself and looking up at the surprised older lady. “Are you okay, miss?” she asked, remembering protocol. “Was it just him?” 

Still shocked, the woman nodded. “Thanks to you, young lady. You may want to restrain him so he isn’t a threat if he wakes up,” she said, glaring down disapprovingly at the unconscious man between them.

“Are you a Lunari?” The words tumbled out of Mari’s mouth before she could stop them — obviously she wasn’t, not at her age, but she didn’t look or sound shaken at all despite having just been held at gunpoint— 

“I was, once,” she said kindly. “Not anymore. Quickly now, restrain him. I have a rope under the stove.” 

Mari moved to do as she was told. Soon enough, the man was tied up as the older woman picked up the weapon off of the floor and efficiently dismantled it. 

“Thank you for your help.” The woman bowed deeply, her back creaking. “As much as I wished for distraction, I must say that was a bit too much excitement for one night.”

Mari couldn’t help but giggle. “I suppose so, miss.” 

“Please come back soon. I would like to repay you for your kindness.” 

She hesitated. “But—”

The woman stared at her so flatly that Mari cut herself off without even thinking. 

“I...I will.”

The woman clucked her tongue. “I’ll hold you to that. Ah, before you leave, could I have your name?”

“Mari. Mari Aono,” she answered firmly. Although her name was technically Marisa, she loathed it. 

“That is a good name,” the elderly woman praised, smiling. “Then, Mari, I hope to see you soon.” 

The Stormweaver nodded uncertainly, but didn’t protest further as she took her still-unconscious captive and dragged him outside. Thankfully, the downpour had slowed to a mere drizzle, so she wasn’t drenched as she leapt onto a rooftop and threw up some sparks into the air to catch the attention of the night patrol.

'Maybe...I could use this Storm of mine to do something good after all?'