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The sun was still high in the sky when Emil made the decision to pick up his sword. He’d been restless for days now, the slow pace of their travel amplifying his anxiety until he felt like he might scream if he had to sit still for another minute.
So, while Marta and Tenebrae hunched over the map, bickering over which route to take, Emil found a quieter spot just out of sight to practice his fighting forms. It was something he’d wanted to do for a while now, but some mixture of nervousness and embarrassment had prevented him from actually having the guts to start.
It turned out his worries were largely unfounded—the movements came naturally, like his body was already used to the activity. He supposed all the fighting he’d done in Ratatosk Mode must have baked the forms into his muscle memory somehow. It was a strange feeling, almost like déjà vu, but it was also a relief to know he wasn’t starting from scratch.
Emil cut through the air with efficient swings, paying attention to his footwork and trying to remain in constant motion. He leapt up, leading with an uppercut, bringing the sword back down in an effortless Ravaging Tiger. His feet had hardly touched the ground before he lunged forward in a flurry of stabs, throwing himself straight ahead to dodge past his imaginary target with a final slash: Converging Fury.
The movements felt good—they felt right—and the unexpected familiarity of the exercise was extremely gratifying. He could feel a small smile tugging at his lips as he continued cycling through different artes.
The minutes passed as he concentrated on remembering as many attack combinations as he could. He was definitely starting to get worn out—it’s not like most fights lasted this long, so he was sure he’d be flagging at this point even in Ratatosk Mode—but the boost this little training session was giving his confidence was well worth the exertion.
He kicked backward and prepared to launch another arte, but an unseen dip in the uneven ground caught his foot, pitching his body sideways with a slightly undignified yelp. Without conscious thought, he extended an arm to catch himself, pushing off the ground and redirecting his previous momentum to spin his lower half in a wide crescent. A spray of dust and gravel flew outward as he skidded to a mostly-graceful stop.
In that same instant, a surprised squeak alerted him to the small audience he’d apparently failed to notice. Emil’s head whipped toward them, just in time to see Marta brushing the loose dirt off her skirt. The dirt he’d just kicked directly at her.
“Oh! S-sorry!” Emil cried, sheathing his sword and nearly stumbling in his haste to reach her and Tenebrae where they’d been sitting at the top of the hill. “I didn’t see—didn’t even know you were—”
“It’s fine, Emil,” Marta laughed brightly, as Tenebrae rolled his eyes. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Emil was sure that if he hadn’t already been sweating from the exercise, his face would be reddening with embarrassment. “Still. Um, sorry.”
Marta let out a little huff at his persistent apology but didn’t acknowledge it. “So uh, Emil? What are you doing?”
“What… do you mean?” he retorted, feeling the awkwardness settle back into place over his shoulders like a well-worn cloak. So much for the confidence boost.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually train before,” she observed, face displaying nothing but curiosity. “I guess I didn’t think you really had to.”
Emil shrugged, crossing his arms self-consciously. “I don’t. I didn’t. It’s, um,” his face scrunched up as he tried to explain. “I want to get stronger on my own.”
From Marta’s expression, he could tell that what he was saying wasn’t making any sense.
“What I mean is, I want to be able to, you know, fight without relying on the other—uh, on Ratatosk’s power—every time.” It felt… weird to talk about this. These doubts had been plaguing him for a while but saying them out loud just made them seem even more weird and stupid. He regretted even admitting what little he already had.
Marta stared at him for another few seconds before her eyes widened in understanding. “Ah, I get it! That makes perfect sense.”
“It—does?” That was not the response Emil had been expecting.
She raised an eyebrow at him and chuckled. “Of course it does. You should be prepared to defend yourself no matter what state you’re in.” Her expression shifted slightly, an all-too-familiar twinkle of mischief shining in her eyes. “And isn’t that just like you, Emil—my knight in shining armor—to ensure that you’re always in tip-top form to protect your loved ones from danger~♡”
It was Emil’s turn to let out a long-suffering sigh, but he couldn’t keep the corners of his lips from twitching upward at the flattery.
The silence following Marta’s comment stretched a beat too long, and Emil and Marta turned simultaneously to look at Tenebrae.
The Centurion blinked at them in surprise. “What?”
“You’ve been awfully quiet this whole time,” Marta pointed out. You usually interrupt this kind of flirting with a snarky comment, she did not elaborate, for which Emil was grateful.
“I was merely considering the potential benefits this sort of training might provide,” Tenebrae replied, with more seriousness than Emil expected. He turned an appraising look at Emil, and something in his red-gold eyes seemed calculating. “Perhaps the two of you could train together?”
Marta clapped her hands together and gasped, startling Emil. “That’s a fantastic idea, Tenebrae! I need the practice, too, and this way we can give each other feedback and stuff.” She bounced closer to Emil and grabbed at his arm, leaning into his personal space with an energy that reminded him strongly of a begging puppy. “What do you think, Emil?”
The heat in his face was definitely a blush at this point. “I don’t see why not. Like you said, we can try to give each other pointers.”
Marta pumped her fist in the air. “Yes, I can’t wait! Starting tomorrow, then, class is in session.”
Tenebrae’s ear twitched in a way Emil had come to understand meant trouble. “Hmm, classmates?” the Centurion hummed innocently. “Lady Marta, would that make Emil your senpai?”
The delighted sparkle in Marta’s eyes did nothing to soothe the blush Emil could feel burning all the way to the tips of his ears.
~ ~ ~
The training quickly became part of their routine. As they traveled, they set aside a few minutes each evening to hone their battle artes and get in some exercise, offering advice and constructive criticism as they observed each other’s movements. Emil found it easy to pick up on the forms and techniques favored by his other self, if with slightly less aggression behind his swings. Between that and Marta’s dancer-like grace, their fighting styles had served them well so far. Improvements were small and incremental, but over time it did feel like they were getting better. It also gave them a little more insight into how the other fought, and thus how best to complement each other on the battlefield.
It was nice.
Tenebrae always watched silently from the side, lounging in the shade like an overgrown housecat and only ever interjecting to remind them when they’d been at it for too long. Otherwise, he seemed to just observe everything with a strangely thoughtful expression. Emil didn’t think he wanted to know what the enigmatic Centurion might be pondering, so he didn’t ask.
Almost a week into the new routine, as Marta went about checking her spinners for damage or stains, she caught Emil’s eye and flashed him an eager grin, “Hey, what would you say to a friendly spar?”
Emil considered it a moment before responding, “You really think I could hold my own in a fight? Already?”
Marta snapped the spinner in her hand closed and placed her hands on her hips, throwing him an exasperated look. “How many times have I told you to have some confidence in yourself? You’ve been doing an incredible job.”
He tried not to let the reflexive skepticism show on his face, but Marta’s frustrated sigh told him he’d failed.
“Lady Marta is correct in her assessment,” Tenebrae supplied from today’s lounging spot beneath a stately oak tree. “Your skills have been improving steadily since the two of you began this little endeavor.”
In fact, Emil agreed fully—he felt stronger and surer in his abilities than before, and, although he hadn’t been the one in control during his past battles, he was fairly certain that his current skill level should be almost comparable to when he’d last fought monsters in Ratatosk Mode.
It was just… hard to accept praise sometimes, still? He would have to continue working on that.
“Okay,” he said, shaking himself loose in an attempt to restore some of his faded confidence. “Yeah, all right then, why not?”
Marta squealed, expression brightening instantly, “Really!?”
“Sure,” Emil could feel her enthusiasm catching hold of him, sweeping him along for the ride. He felt himself grin as the insecurities melted away. “We’ve both been working so hard at this. Let’s see how far this training has taken us!”
Marta took off with a whoop, sliding to a stop at the center of the cleared area they’d designated for the day’s practice. She flicked her arm out, arming her spinner with a metallic shing, and adopted an exaggerated, almost feral smile that was equal parts menacing and comical.
Emil laughed as he ran to catch up, drawing his own weapon and settling easily into a ready stance a few paces away.
“Don’t be nervous,” Marta chirped as she bounced rhythmically from foot to foot. “I can always patch us up with magic afterward, so no holding back, okay?”
Emil’s heart was already pounding in his ears. He was still jittery and a little tense, but Marta’s infectious excitement was buoying him up, carrying the sensation into something remarkably like fun.
He flipped his sword in a tight circle and caught it out of the air in an uncharacteristic show of bravado—brought on by this adrenaline-fueled giddiness, perhaps—then nodded.
Marta continued springing from one foot to another—right-left-right-left-right-left—watching for an opening that Emil refused to provide. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, bracing himself for whatever attack she would strike with first.
Then, between the space of one blink and the next, Marta had closed the space between them and was lunging directly at his torso.
~ ~ ~
Marta crashed into Emil with nearly her full strength, intending to stagger him with her momentum and rebound off of his guard into a position favorable for her next strike.
Instead, Emil’s blade barely caught the edge of her spinner in time, and he stumbled backward two full steps despite his excellent stance just moments before. Marta nearly toppled over too at the unexpected lack of resistance, but she managed to right herself with minimal flailing.
“Emil, what—?” her indignant question caught in her throat as she raised her gaze to his face, only to be met with startled crimson eyes.
They stared at each other for a long, tense second, before Emil—Ratatosk Mode Emil—scoffed, rolling his eyes and sheathing his sword with a look of utter disgust. Marta withdrew a step, bemused, as he turned his back to her, shoulders hunched. After a long moment, he proceeded to stalk over to a tree several paces away.
He reeled back a fist before letting out a strangled cry and punching the tree. Marta’s heart leapt to her throat as she recognized the “normal” Emil’s voice in the shout.
She was at his side in an instant. “Are you okay?” she asked, hands fluttering uselessly as she wondered whether she should heal his certainly bruised knuckles. “What happened?”
Clear green eyes met hers as he fell backwards against the tree in a resigned slump. He shrugged, an unhappy smile twitching at his lips. “Guess I really am too much of a coward to defend myself. Even when it's against you, when I know there's no real danger, my body instinctively went into Ratatosk Mode.”
Emil had always struggled with his own self-esteem, but this might be the most defeated Marta had ever seen him. The contrast with his attitude just minutes ago—self-assured and almost cocky—was throwing her entirely off-balance. Her gut twisted as he drew further into himself.
“I don't... I don't need him to save me every time I'm in trouble,” Emil continued, hands clenching into trembling fists. “I can... I can fight...”
He looked to be on the edge of tears, and Marta wanted nothing more than to pull him in for the biggest hug of his life. She resisted the impulse, reminding herself that feeling coddled would probably do him more harm than good at a time like this.
Instead, she leaned back against the tree alongside him, nudging his shoulder roughly with her own. (Still an affectionate touch, she reasoned, but one that could be mistaken for a… a manly gesture of camaraderie and therefore shouldn’t wound his already injured pride.)
“You’re not a coward,” she stated matter-of-factly, leaving absolutely no room for argument. “In fact, you’re the bravest person I know.”
Emil opened his mouth to retort, but Marta barreled on, “And I know you think I’m just saying that because of my feelings for you, but that’s not it.”
His mouth snapped audibly shut as his eyes widened in surprise. She’d guessed correctly, then. Ignoring the familiar warmth in her face she’d come to expect whenever discussing her feelings so openly, she continued, “I’d love you even if you were a wimpy scaredy-cat, but no matter what happens to us on this crazy journey—no matter what horrible, terrifying things threaten you, or me, or the people we’ve met along the way—you always face your fears and do the right thing! And that’s braver than any knight.”
Emil merely looked pained, like he didn’t believe her. The self-doubt was creeping back in. Marta growled to herself, then shouted, “Tenebrae! Back me up, here!”
The Centurion floated lazily down to eye-level, from where he’d apparently been hovering just over their heads. “Mm, yes. Courage does indeed take many forms,” he offered blandly, watching Emil with an unreadable expression.
Emil actually glared at him. “That’s helpful,” he muttered with bitter sarcasm, and Marta was inclined to agree.
Spiteful old man, she grumbled internally.
“Would a coward work so hard at getting stronger,” she tried instead, ignoring Tenebrae for now, “when that training means he’s going to end up facing more danger in the future?”
That seemed to give Emil pause.
“You’re doing everything you can to protect yourself,” she pressed while she had his attention. “To protect me.” Her blush was back. “I’m as grateful for that as I was the day we met. And I’ll remind you that that was before you made your pact with Ratatosk.”
Emil relaxed into a more contemplative silence as he drank in her words.
The moment stretched as the last of the tension faded. Marta took the opportunity to lean directly against Emil’s shoulder, hoping to bolster him with a reminder of her support. Her heart fluttered in her chest when he returned the pressure. “We had a little setback today, but that’s why it’s practice,” she said. “There’s always next time. Let’s just call it a day for now and start on an early dinner.”
Emil chuckled at that, his shoulder shaking pleasantly against hers. “You just want an excuse for me to cook again.”
“Well, duh,” Marta declared with exaggerated dignity. “I’m entitled to some home-cooked meals once in a while from the man I’m going to marry!”
Emil turned tomato-red but doubled over laughing, and Marta lasted only a few seconds longer before letting her own giggles escape.
~ ~ ~
Tenebrae watched the pair laugh and felt his own mouth curl upward in a small, fond smile. His tail swished through the open air and he allowed himself to indulge in his own conflicted feelings for just a moment. He had to admit that he really did care for these two. They were certainly the closest thing to friends he’d ever had in his long life.
He hoped, deep down, that Lord Ratatosk might find some way to soften the inevitable blow, when the truth of things came out. It was nice to imagine a world in which these two children could find a peaceful, happy life together, but there was little point in dwelling on the impossible. As much as he cared for his charges, the happiness of the few simply did not outweigh the survival of the many.
Tenebrae drifted back up into the cool shade of the tree canopy, letting himself be lulled by the voices of his companions as they bustled about their tiny camp. The darkness here was faint, only a dim green twilight, and it was broken up by restless little specks of sunlight that filtered down through the leaves above.
He would never admit aloud that this particular flavor of darkness had nevertheless come to be one of his personal favorites.
~ ~ ~
They were ambushed by monsters the next day. It was nothing they hadn’t encountered before, and they sent the creatures fleeing without suffering more than a few bruises themselves. The leader of the pack, a scaly, toothy thing with piercing eyes, had stayed behind and was now facing off with Emil across the glowing runes of the Pact Magic circle.
Marta watched the now-familiar ritual play out, as fascinating and inexplicable as the first time she’d seen it. Her own magic—an amplification of chi-based martial artes using energy borrowed from Ratatosk’s core on her forehead—felt nothing like it, nor did the spellcasting of any of their angelic or Elven friends. The closest equivalent she’d encountered might have been Sheena’s summoning abilities, but there was something inherently wild and rhythmic at the center of Ratatosk’s Pact ceremony, something that reminded her more of a heartbeat than of any magic spell she’d ever heard of.
There was also, oddly, a marked affinity for Darkness at its core, which Marta had initially assumed was simply a result of Tenebrae’s influence but lately had felt like it must hold deeper meaning. Emil himself had always had a predilection for Darkness, she’d noticed, and seeing as he was apparently a suitable vessel for Ratatosk’s power, maybe that meant the Lord of Monsters himself was also of that element?
It was a thought Marta had pondered many times before. She was always left feeling like she was missing a piece of an important puzzle.
She was snapped out of her musing by a loud hiss and an excited rustling of scales as the monster bounded over to Emil with all the exuberance of a friendly dog.
Emil’s expression remained neutral—bored, even—in the fading glow of the magic circle, but he extended a hand to pat the creature on the head in what Marta could tell was a fond gesture.
He was still in Ratatosk Mode, but that wouldn’t remain true for long. The red-eyed Emil never stuck around for more than a few minutes after a battle—not since the Temple of Darkness—and even then only long enough to check on their monster allies.
Marta joined him at the monster’s side before she could change her mind. “Great work out there!” she chirped, aiming for casual.
Emil gave her an unimpressed look. “We’re not doing this pretending-to-do-small-talk thing,” he grumbled, efficiently heading off her intended strategy. “Just spit it out.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I didn’t really expect that to work on you.” She reached a hand out to let the new monster sniff it. “Um, I did need to talk to you about something, though, and I don’t get a lot of chances to outside of battle anymore.”
He nodded, watching as the monster flicked its serpentine tongue at Marta’s hand a few times before nudging it with its snout.
“I guess I mostly wanted to apologize for yesterday,” she explained, scratching the creature’s head absently. “We—the other Emil and I—didn’t mean to disturb you or force you to come out and fight. I’m sure you’re probably tired of—”
“I wasn’t angry about being brought out,” he interrupted, eyes still on the monster and pointedly not meeting Marta’s surprised gaze. “I don’t… I don’t mind the idea of being in charge outside of battle.”
“Oh.”
“In fact,” his voice went a little softer, and she had to lean in to hear him, “it might be nice to be around when things are peaceful, once in a while. Times when it’s just me and you.”
Marta’s hands flew from the purring monster to her suddenly warm face. “You—!”
Emil seemed to realize what he’d said, his eyes going wide, “A-and Tenebrae! Not—not like, alone w—” he stuttered, his own cheeks going slightly pink. “Just, without monsters around, you know!”
Marta suppressed the giggles threatening to escape, with great effort. Emil’s scowl was firmly back in place, his shoulders tense. She took a deep breath to cool off. “If that’s the case, then why were you so upset?”
He sighed, gesturing for Marta to follow as he started leading the new monster to where the rest of their party was now resting. He kneeled next to the manticore that had taken part in the fight, brushing his hands through its dense golden fur as he searched for injuries.
“I just get frustrated when he screws up,” he finally admitted, sounding reluctant.
Marta frowned. “That’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I wanted to… I guess apologize on the other Emil’s behalf,” she said. “Because I know he’s trying his absolute best, and I think what he’s doing could benefit everybody, including you.”
He dropped the manticore’s huge paw into the grass with a thud, eliciting a curious rumble from the beast, before leveling a glare at her. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying you should stop saying such mean things about him all the time.” He prepared to snap something in response but she cut him off, “He messes up sometimes, but he’s got a kind heart. He’s clearly training himself so he can protect everyone, and I’m pretty sure he’s doing it to lighten the load on you as well.”
Emil shook his head with a smirk. “You give that guy too much credit.” He tapped the side of his head with a knuckle, “If you could hear half of the doubts and fears that ran through here, you’d see he’s a much more selfish and cowardly person than you think.”
Marta rolled her eyes. There he went again, using that word. “He’s not a coward,” she stated flatly, feeling like a broken record. “And I say you both deserve the benefit of the doubt, here.”
He expelled a huff of air that might have been a laugh. “Whatever.”
“I’m serious,” she said, kneeling next to him and brushing her own fingers through the now happily dozing manticore’s mane. “You need to stop blaming each other for every little thing. You might both be Emil, but you’re allowed to have different priorities and opinions. Can’t you just learn to accept your differences and try to work together?”
He frowned, giving up the pretense of checking the monster for injuries and simply scratching behind its horns. “All I do is work for his benefit.”
“Which is why you should be happy he’s learning to pull his weight in battles!”
“… All that means is less time being me overall. It’s not like I get anything in return.”
Marta opened her mouth to retort but realized he was right. He raised an eyebrow in silent challenge, and she sighed. “I’ll try talking to him about it. Maybe you can find a way to be you outside of battles sometimes.”
He stared at her for several seconds. He maintained a look of skepticism, but his entire bearing had softened somewhat, his shoulders relaxing slightly and his brow smoothing into something less irritated.
Marta pulled him into a tight hug. “I care about both of you, you know. I want both of you to be happy, even when you’re being stubborn idiots about it.”
He didn’t exactly return the hug, but he did rest a warm hand on her shoulder. “I know you do.”
“Together, the three of us can figure out a way to help the other Emil defend himself, and to help you feel less excluded. But we need to work together to make it happen. Deal?”
He flopped back against the manticore’s side with a tired exhale, dragging Marta down with him—eliciting a small squeak as she fell against his chest. He closed his eyes and grunted in that unmistakable deep voice, “Deal.”