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Everyone had heard of Yuder Aile: the strongest Esper in the world, the one Esper that no Guide could help. Everyone who tried were turned to tears, vomiting and shaken by the deep power that nestled in his veins. Inhuman, they’d all said.
The destruction he wrought across the land was devastating in its power. Buildings toppled, trees crushed. The corpse of the monster lay defeated, a towering spike of dirt pierced through its core.
So this was Yuder.
On the verge of a rampage, black hair hung limply over his eyes as overwhelming power radiated from him. He rose, wind supporting him. Around Kishiar, everyone ran away, the pressure emanating from a being who even nature bent for too fearsome to comprehend.
A red glow surrounded him, otherwordly and impossibly entrancing.
Kishiar thought he looked beautiful.
“Maybe we should retreat,” Nathan suggested, unmoving. His eyes were resigned despite his words. Familiarity borne of years of working alongisde each other allowed him to guess at Kishiar’s actions.
Kishiar smiled, genuine affection and warmth overcoming him. “Go back,” he said. Nathan unsheathed his sword, ready to unleash his own Esper abilities. Blue eyes stared back at him steadily; he would follow Kishiar to his death.
The ground shook underneath them.
There was too much, and his power swelled, uncontrollable. His power, that usually obeyed him as easily as breathing was out of his control. The primal feeling of rage was constant. His eyes were blurred, his breathing was fast.
The ground crumbled, the air shook. He was going to destoy himself. He lost consciousness even as he did so, rising into the air. His body broke down, he screamed himself hoarse.
The rest of him screamed in pain, sobbing, shaking. His mind was being torn apart. White, hot pain flashed through him, his vision disappeared under the pain. The world was slipping away even as he tried to hold on.
The skies were blue and clear, the sun shined down.
His mind retreated to the cold, quiet place, waiting for his death. His last coherent thought: thank god everything’s finally ending.
Lips pressed against his.
Everything stilled.
He came back to himself in pieces: slowly, then all at once. What remained was red eyes, soft lips pressed against his, a cool energy guiding him into breathing again. How long had it been since he’d last felt stability?
He was a time bomb, everyone knew it. He was as good as a dog to be put down; he was too valuable to be killed pre-emptively. In a world of Guides and Espers, Yuder Aile was to die fighting.
And yet:
His body was broken, his mind was shredded and torn and barely pieced together. He fell limply into waiting arms and a laugh that sounded like wind chimes sounded in the air, light and warm and radiant and alive.
“Rest, now,” a voice said.
He woke up with a start though his eyes remained closed and his breathing stayed even.
“Do you perhaps like pain?”
The question took Yuder aback, the shock forcing him to abandon his pretense of sleep. His vision, blurry, sharpened as he took in a man with golden hair and red eyes. He hadn’t know people were capable of glowing.
“What?” His voice sounded like gravel. He realised he was lying down, and fought to get up. His ribs twinged but the pain was only a new sensation on top of everything else. He thought he was going to die. He wasn’t dead. The incongruity was shoved to the back of his mind.
His mind was clear. That was the most surprising part: the stability he felt, the calmness that layered over him. The reprieve from his usual state of teetering on the precipice of madness and sanity was a novel feeling, so much so that it felt like a trap.
The sheets were clean despite how filthy Yuder must be.
“Malnourishment, sleep deprivation, all of that for months. Unhealed breaks and wounds. Not to mention everything you sustained in the latest battle and subsequent rampage.” The fingers gloved in white fabric that counted down his injuries managed to make the motion elegant.
Yuder’s eyes traced the motion.
“…”
“Surely the Bureau aren’t starving you.” The man’s face slipped into a smile. “You’re always welcome at my agency if you feel like your treatment is unjustified.”
Agency? Yuder knew all of the agencies; he made a point of it. Tied to a leash he may be, but he’d always planned on breaking away before he realised he was on a time limit. The habit had stuck even after he’d given up.
The man handed him a cup with a straw. He sipped on it. The cool liquid slipped down, and the pain lessened.
“What agency?” he rasped out.
“The Arcane Legion.”
There was no such thing. He said as much and was struck still by the laughter. He hadn’t imagined it, then, it truly was like a wind chime. Yuder finally identified the emotion he’d had as he thought he was dying: relief.
So this was the man who’d pulled him back from the brink. The man he’d been held in the embrace of, who’d kissed him with gentleness Yuder hadn’t known how to handle in the midst of his rampage.
“I just established it.”
A hand reached out and took the empty cup from his hand. Kishiar reached back for a handshake. Yuder took it automatically, and his hand was held by a much larger hand. The warmth emanating through the glove was so intense Yuder wanted to take his hand back immediately.
He did. His hand felt cold.
A smile like a blooming flower stretched across a handsome face. “Kishiar La Orr,” he introduced, unfazed and composed. “Your new guide and potential employer.” The smile turned smaller, as if sharing a secret just between them. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Yuder.”
The sound of his name on the man’s lips sent a shiver down his spine.
Dazed, Yuder reached back blindly. Had there ever been anyone so warm and undeniably alive? Everyone was cold in the Bureau. Yuder himself was freezing, inhuman. Kishiar, impossibly warm, was proof of Yuder’s continued survival.
“…How did you manage to guide me?”
The smile turned sly. “I’ll tell you if you become my Deputy Commander.”