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it wasn’t always like this.
fulgur ovid is an honest man with a warm heart and aura, almost like a miniature sun in other people’s solar systems and little universes – at least that was what uki liked to think, whenever the cyborg had to go into a deep sleep mode, storing the present’s (past’s) memories away in a data server he and shu had created for the sake of their own comfort because being alone was something one could get used to but would never feel completely comfortable with.
but yes, the deep sleep mode, or more like (in uki’s words) “mean fuufuuchan mode”; fulgur didn’t mean it, really, when his archivist personality came back for the backups of his memories – but only during those times – and the psychic didn’t really know what to do with him anymore. the cyborg couldn’t do anything about it either, his future self was still part of him and he was more than grateful for all the experiences and memories he had made; they had shaped him in a way nothing else could.
so his friends had no other choice than to accept someone who their friend used to be, for at least once a month, when their fuuchan was meddling in the data network. it gave the legatus inside his head the space to come out again, to experience the comfort of being able to trust someone with your everything.
“humans don’t like seeing things that remind them of bad memories. if it doesn’t spark joy, out it goes”, fulgur said, uki sitting on their couch while hugging his legs. he had asked how his fuufuuchan had such a drastic change in personality, judging by the fact how seemingly cold his future self was acting. uki could only guess how discontent he was with himself, his job, and the people he had to deal with on a daily basis to get done with whatever tiring and repetitive problems the legion bugged him with. getting sent back in time truly was that one thing fulgur ovid needed but never asked for.
he was just so, so tired of it all; the way people didn’t change when it came to handling… just things, yeah. when way too many steps were taken, a waste of time and energy, acting like there was effort involved when there really wasn’t. numbering people, standardization of the masses, treating the laws of the world like bedtime stories they could read for their children (and oh, how he remembered that one kid that tried to break out only to get locked in by his dad with a simple command), using the school’s education system to implant roots into those tiny heads, the clever work of manipulation.
fulgur ovid knew it all, how close he would get to boiling over, how often he had to tell himself “i’ll get through this” when in reality he didn’t even know how and why in the first place; how he could save himself without orders because that was all he knew after over two years in the future? he didn’t know.
“you just got too big for the cage.” uki had his chin in the palm of his hand, his black nails softly drumming against his cheek while his eyes stared into the distance of his window. it was currently three in the morning and their late-night conversations were a regular once-in-a-month thing – fulgur didn’t mind, he liked the mess uki violeta had shown himself as, simply because he thrived on it.
“cage?”, fulgur thought out loud, a weirdly fitting metaphor he had never really thought about till now – which was weird, since he liked to use “prison” as a comparison a lot.
“yeah, a cage they put you in just for them to decide our fate without even asking us. they don’t care what happens to their prisoners, they just want control. they know if we’d ever escape, we’d tear down everything with us.” the legatus could only nod, tongue heavy.
fulgur knew uki had issues with his powers, he knew shu was visiting every weekend and tuesday to give the psychic lessons and advice; hence they felt their mana pools synchronizing (“must be fate”, fuuchan had laughed and fate had laughed with him, knowingly). yet the archivist felt surprised and a bit clueless as he woke up in his dark room, no uki next to him but instead in the bathroom next door, panting and crying and sobbing, petite body shaking like an earthquake was rocking through him and him alone.
he would send shu a message before kneeling down in front of the purple-haired one; “in three times, out three times, uki, you hear me?” teary eyes stared up at him, the face of someone helpless, weak- no, uki wasn’t weak, he never was, it was just his future brain thinking he was a hero of some sorts.
“good job, now in six times, out three times”, uki was clinging onto him now, he could feel ice-cold hands gripping his shoulder, “in – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 – out – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. you’re doing great, i’m right here.” it never mattered in which timeline or mirror universe fulgur ovid would be, it would never change his biggest weak spot, uki violeta, currently crying into his shirt in the year of 2022, a world in a year he had never really understood.
but it was fine now because he had finally broken out, he was so tired of carving notches to count the days, so tired of waiting for something to happen. for once he wanted control and he was so proud of his other self, the one storing precious memories away while he took over the body – so proud that he was capable of breaking out and running through the wide gates towards a past he wished he always had.