Chapter Text
When Mao discovered that he had been gifted with the ability of magic, the ability to cast unimaginable spells and tricks that no one else could, he decided that he would make the best use of it to help others.
He never bragged about it, he never showed it off. He silently learned more about it, burying himself under towers of books that were almost as tall as him, full of dust as he was the first person --still a kid back then-- who could begin to understand the words in them.
Magic is a language itself, a language that is alive, growing, expanding and changing at such a fast speed that humans are giving up on catching up with it. They are starting to let go, letting it wander until it gets lost, until it can never return.
And yet, there are still some people that cling to it, catching up and after understanding its words, adding more to it, helping it become stronger.
Maybe magic is the one that clings into these people, choosing those who will help in its growth, knowing that they won't hold it back.
The words of magic, while they can be understood, its nature is still a mystery.
Capricious as it is, it appears to not distinguish between good and evil, simply seeking for those that will go along with its selfish whims.
That could be the reason Mao could hear its words, understand its language.
Ever since he was a small kid, even before he discovered magic, he always found himself going along with everyone's requests, helping them as if it brought him joy.
And then, when magic appeared in his life, when he started to practise spells and tricks, helping others was the only thing he could think about.
Mao never had impossible goals, he never thought too highly of himself, all he wanted was to live a life out of any troublesome thing.
Or at least, that's what he will always say. Claiming that he hates any troublesome thing but always getting into trouble himself, going out of his way to help those in need.
His life would have been a lot easier if it only applied to human beings, and of course, it would be even easier if it didn't apply to them either.
But Mao, unable to ignore those who need help, be it a human, an animal or a beast, he always ends up offering his hand to them.
That's why he picked a bat.
It isn't a weird thing for him to take care of animals. Often, the kids from the village would ask for his help when their pet got lost or hurt, as if Mao had become the solution to any problem, the master of any job. Magic can solve it all, is what they probably think, and Mao can’t really blame them for thinking so. After all, if even someone as weak as him can help so much with his little spells, he can’t begin to imagine how much a real magician or a witch would be able to contribute.
But even if he has experience with them, animals aren't his main field.
Then again, he doesn't really know if he has a main field.
He found the bat, small and wounded, in the middle of the forest. One of his many many tasks helping those in the village, finding herbs that would later be used for medical purposes.
He could have ignored it. The animal wasn't his responsibility, and even if he took him home, seeing its wounds, there was no guarantee it would survive. If he failed at keeping it alive he would only feel bad about himself.
But after seeing it, if he ignored it he would also feel bad about himself, as if the moment the small animal entered his field of vision it had become his responsibility.
He tried to convince himself that it would only be for a few days. If that was the case it wouldn't be too troublesome. He would feed it, treat its wounds, and once it was healed, set it free once again.
After all, even if he wanted to keep it, he's sure that a bat isn't a domestic animal.
Though he has heard of eccentric magicians that keep all kinds of animals and creatures by their side, forming a bond that is usually referred to as their familiar. --Then again, he doesn't consider himself a magician. He never received the education for it and he's sure that any proper magician would feel offended if he used that word on himself.--
He isn't too sure if he should rely on the information he gets from rumours, but after spending a few days with the animal, he found himself getting attached to it.
He also found that the bat was definitely stronger than it appeared to be. Even if Mao used a few spells to help for the wounds to heal faster --after spending countless hours searching through books and papers for those spells-- at some point he understood that such a thing had been unnecessary.
He would keep the small animal next to him at any moment, keeping it on his bed even during sleep so he could check on it at any time. After a while, the bat too seemed to enjoy Mao's company, resting on the boy's head, making itself comfortable in the red tufts of hair.
All it would do was sleep though, and Mao wasn't too sure if it was because it still needed to recover or the small animal simply enjoyed napping.
Mao was really putting all his effort and care into making sure that the bat would heal. He wanted to make sure that once it healed, he would be strong enough to survive on his own, he wanted to make sure to not release it too soon.
It was just another task he took upon himself. He didn't expect any kind of reward, but he knew that he wouldn't lose anything either.
That's why he doesn't understand how and why he has gotten into this situation.
Maybe he has been cursed. Maybe he did something unforgivable in a previous life. Maybe this is a prank.
He pinches his own cheek to verify that he's indeed awake, that this isn't a dream.
That the image he sees is real.
The image of some stranger, a boy that can't be much older than him lying next to him on the bed, curled up, sleeping peacefully in the spot that the bat he has been so dearly taking care of should be.
And he's completely naked.
Mao blinks once. Twice. Thrice. But the boy --naked-- is still there. He isn't an illusion.
He sits down, trying to come up with a logical solution to this situation, something that will explain it but his mind is completely empty.
When Mao moves, the light that comes from the window seems to hit the stranger directly in the face, making his expression turn into a displeased one as he groans softly.
After that, he slowly opens his eyes, closing them immediately as the light seems to bother him, curling himself even more, trying to hide his face and go back to his peaceful sleep.
So he really is alive, is the first thought that for whatever reason crosses Mao's mind. He gulps, not too sure if he feels scared because he has no idea of who this person might be or confused because he can't see the bat anywhere.
It's both probably.
There's also a part of him that feels nervous because he's starting to connect some impossible dots, and he isn't too sure if he likes the conclusion those dots are coming into.
He opens his mouth, ready to talk and ask this stranger who he is, but before any sound comes out the boy, a young man to be more precise, groans softly once again.
This time he raises his head a little, opening his eyes and this time he doesn't close them, instead he looks at Mao and for a brief second, the magician stops breathing, feeling that he's getting lost in the color of those ruby irises.
He starts breathing again when the expression on the stranger's face softens, his lips curling into a smile as he tilts his head a little.
“Good morning,” his voice sounds so soothing, so beautiful and soft that it is almost hypnotic and once again Mao finds himself holding his breath. “Maa-kun~” The stranger’s smile widens when he adds that and when Mao realizes that it's probably supposed to be a nickname, an affectionate one probably, his heart definitely doesn't skip a beat.
The stranger gets on his knees slowly, lazily, stretching his arms, his back, his whole body, but he still doesn't seem to be completely awake. Instead it looks like he's ready to fall asleep again, that the only reason he has bothered to stretch his body is to avoid getting sore.
And Mao can see, thanks to the pose he's in, thanks to the movements that the stranger has done --now yawning while still on his knees, without any care at all-- that he's indeed completely naked.
He can also see, some wounds in his body and more dots are connected.
Once again, he isn't too sure if he likes the outcome he's getting.
“Who are you?” Mao finally speaks, voice shaking as he grips into the blanket of his bed, as if it was some kind of protection shield that also gives him courage. “Why are you here?” He adds, and he's surprised at himself that he has managed to speak once again.
The stranger looks at him displeased, the smile he had before is nowhere to be seen, it has been replaced by a frown that doesn't seem intimidating thanks to the childish pout accompanying it.
“How rude, Maa-kun.” His expression doesn't change as he slowly places his hands on the bed, close to Mao and starts crawling closer to him. Yet his voice doesn't sound angry, he actually sounds amused about it. “You are the one that brought me here.” He adds, closing the distance between them and even if Mao thinks that he's supposed to be sulking, he can definitely see that he's having fun with this situation.
But more important than that, something inside Mao's mind clicks in, making him realize that the thing he was thinking about is indeed the correct solution.
“No, no, no no no.” He still doesn’t seem to want to accept it though, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He knows he pinched his cheek and that it hurt, so he should be awake, but this has to be an extra realistic dream, because there’s no way that this naked boy in front of him is… “No way, you can’t be that bat.” He voices, a hint of doubt and especially anxiety in his voice.
After all, no matter how many magical things he has witnessed during his life, a bat turning into a human, out of nowhere too, is closer to a supernatural occurrence than a magical one, isn’t it?
But the bat that has now become a human smiles at him, closing his eyes as he finally places himself on top of Mao's body, his face a few centimeters apart.
And Mao isn't too sure about how to feel. His heart beats faster not knowing if it's because he still can't believe the situation he's in or because there's a naked young man on top of him.
“That's it~” he sing-songs cheerfully, definitely amused at Mao's reaction, still gripping onto the blanket --definitely harder than before-- as his eyes widen in surprise.
“How…?” His green eyes, open wide thanks to the surprise, look directly into the stranger's red ones, not defensive or scared, those feelings have disappeared and have been replaced with curiosity.
“Who knows…” The stranger decides to avoid the question, looking away from Mao's eyes as he feels that he wouldn't be able to lie to him if he stares at his eyes directly. He does know how it happened after all. “The only thing that matters,” he continues, the smile returning to his face as he decides to look once again into Mao's eyes. “Is that I'm here to become your familiar.” He brings his face even closer to Mao's, so close that he can feel his warm breath brushing against his skin.
Mao opens his mouth in awe, not believing his ears.
“My familiar?” He asks, louder than he intended, seemingly not minding that his personal space has been invaded.
“I will be under your care~” and as soon as he speaks those words, he shortens the distance between them even more, making their lips meet in a soft kiss.