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Everyone was quiet embarking on the ship, short commands, mumbles and the occasional dry jest all lost in the sound of crashing waves. Then, clanking up metal stairs, single-file. Lyserg never imagined his legs would be this sore, even after three days of constant use: sightseeing in Venice was most rewarding on foot, supposedly. And it had been, but that excitement was dripping from him steadily, leaving only stains of melancholy behind in their wake.
In those stains, he could see his purpose lingering; everyone could. But that didn't stop the thunder above them or the sudden barrage of rain soaking their clothes as they hurried into the conference room.
"This'll put us behind," Marco mused, peering out of a circular window with dismay. The sky was dark, save for an early-morning haze hovering around the horizon, but the deck soaked with rain was impossible to miss. "And to think we were hoping for an early departure..."
"We still have a few weeks to get to Tokyo," Meene offered. "One stormy night shouldn't be too much of a setback."
"You may be right, but..." He turned her way, but his eyes were masked by the light reflecting off his glasses, and even she couldn't see past them. Then his mouth moved, like he was about to speak, until all that came out was, "Never mind."
She didn't say anything. Lyserg pitied her, since she'd been looking out for Marco throughout the whole trip, trying to keep his spirits lifted. She'd done a fine job, but even she knew that all good things had to come to an end sometime.
"Let's all just get some rest," he decided. "Tomorrow's going to be busy."
Denbat held back a scoff, glancing at his watch. "On three hours' sleep?"
"You'll live," Porf said, opening the door a sliver. The rain became deafening, then quiet again, just after a loud slam. The door was shut again, water on the floor. "We'd better get to our quarters quickly, though. This isn't the best weather for being out on the deck."
Good grief, Lyserg mused. He was going to be the last one here if he didn't join them, wasn't he? Yet another testament to his weakness, it seemed, only it wasn't that he couldn't handle the rain. Rather, there was just too much on his mind for sleep to ever find room. But, in a sense, that was even more pathetic. He leaned back against the wall and let out a glum sigh.
"What are you standing around for, Lyserg?"
He jolted. "Hm?" Was the room already empty? He looked around, and it indeed was. I must've gotten lost in thought.
"If you don't sleep now, you won't sleep at all. Hurry up and get to bed."
"But..." Lyserg swallowed. "What about you?"
Marco looked at him like he was an idiot. "Do you want this ship to crash?" he demanded.
Lyserg shook his head, and the photo in his back pocket flashed in his mind, everyone gathered together, weapons in hand. No, of course he didn't want that, for them to die. Even rhetorically, the idea shocked him.
"Then I'll keep seeing to my duty of preventing that." He waited for Lyserg to nod, then made a beeline for the door opposite to the deck.
"Um..." Lyserg muttered. What? No, don't do this, just be quiet. Whose voice was that in his head? Idiot!
He peered up. Marco was waiting by the door, dark circles lining his eyes. "What now?"
"I was just wondering, well..." Where had this come from? He didn't know, but it was forcing itself out, and all he could do was watch. "Once Hao is dead, and the Shaman Fight is over, what...what are we all to do?"
He only understood what he was really asking once he'd actually said the words: Will we ever be able to feel this peace together again? Will we even want to? He knew well that the consequences of devoting his entire self to revenge, to justice, included the emptiness that would follow him for the rest of his life. Even if, somehow, the torment Hao had brought upon him in place of what he'd taken away did end with his death, Lyserg's purpose would, too. The X-LAWS wouldn't need each other, wouldn't need him. On this ship, he was here to fight, to serve, not to become so emotionally wound-up, but he was too sentimental for that. And that's why I always end up asking these stupid questions, isn't it? But he couldn't help himself.
Was...was Marco gritting his teeth? The room was too dark for Lyserg to tell, but the dread hit him nonetheless, because Marco wouldn't need him, either. Lyserg couldn't imagine a life alone with nothing but the blood on his hands that, even now, he was training desperately to one day enjoy, Marco absolutely could. And maybe Lyserg's heart really was too soft, this being the proof, but he didn't want to be alone, simply put. He'd come here to escape that, take vengeance that was supposed to help him save others from the same pain, making it all the more crucial that he think himself out of the hell that was knowing Marco just saw him as a means to an end: a loyal soldier to train and mold, a pretty face to enjoy when no one was watching.
"Lyserg Diethel..." That was all Marco said at first, his name, though not tenderly, as much as Lyserg wished that were the case. And then Marco started walking back, closer, put a hand on his shoulder. Lyserg flinched, pressure at the sides of his head. He felt a tug at his shirt. It was pristine white against black suspenders, picked out by Marco himself. And it was nearly the same white at their uniforms in the low light. "Maybe you still don't understand, or maybe you've somehow managed to grow even more naïve over these past few days, but I've told you many times..." He caught his breath. "...the white uniform you will be wearing again in just a few hours, Lyserg...you must accept that you may very well die in it. That is what makes it, alongside a symbol of our pride, a burial shroud."
"I—"
"Our end goal is for Lady Jeanne to smite Hao and end his reign of terror, simple as that. Whatever else happens is irrelevant." Was that pain in his voice? It was in his eyes. "And that is where our conversation ends."
And end it did, with a slamming door.
Lyserg kept still for a moment, then walked out, slowly, a hand shielding his eyes from the rain as he made for the stairs. He hadn't expected a better answer, anyway.