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“If you truly wish to go down this path, then you must be strong enough to cast everything else away.”
“I know.”
“Can you truly do such a thing? Can you walk alone to guard the future that we have decided on, no matter whom you desolate in the process?”
“Yes, Lord Okazaki. No matter what, I will not stray from our path. I will carry out my duty to the end.”
“That’s good to hear. After all, in everything that is to come, it’s us or them, so I look forward to our continued cooperation.”
“As do I, my lord. It is an honor to betray Re:vale with you.”
The battlefield was hectic. This was no surprise—everyone knew that it was King Takanashi’s last stand, and that if King Yaotome’s army won the day, the war would finally be over. There would be peace.
Yuki did not care about this one whit. He and Momo were as on edge as the rest of Yaotome’s army, it was true, but not because the war might finally be over. He didn’t care about that. After all, neither member of Re:vale was a citizen of Yaotome’s kingdom; they had joined up with his army after their own king, Okazaki Rintaro, had sworn neutrality in the war. It was a show of support large enough to rattle the armies on both sides, but at the time Re:vale hadn’t cared for the politics of their choices. Five years prior, a former member of Re:vale had vanished after an attack by a group of mercenaries carrying Takanashi’s crest, and Momo and Yuki had been desperate for revenge, and desperate to find him again, so joining the war against Takanashi had seemed inevitable, even if Okarin, their Binder, had disapproved.
Up until now, it had seemed like Okarin had been right to tell them off for enlisting under Yaotome. No matter how many soldiers or magicians they caught and tortured, nobody knew anything about the mercenaries; no matter what research they did or where they looked, there was no paper trail connecting the enemy king with any hired swords whatsoever. It had almost looked like there was no connection between the king and the disappearance of their friend, and when Yaotome announced that King Takanashi had but one magician left, loyal to the bone but young and inexperienced and unable to wield any real magic, both Yuki and Momo had nearly lost all hope of finding the truth of what had happened to their friend. They had almost brought him up to Okarin then, almost asked him if he disapproved of then joining the fight even with this as their only hope, but he had told them with a smile that he’d encountered this Takanashi magician, and they did not like each other, and he hoped that when Re:vale met him they would prove Okarin, and not the magician, to be in the right. So neither had mentioned their lost friend, and both of their hopes sank deeper into despair.
But then, the impossible happened. The night before the final battle of the war, an envelope had appeared between their beds. To my beloved Re:vale, it said, and Yuki had recognized the handwriting immediately and had torn it open, Momo pressed against his side, hope and terror raging war inside both of them—because how could a letter in their lost friend’s handwriting appear now, and what would it say? He tore it open with shaking hands and both of them devoured the message as though they had been starved of it.
To my beloved Re:vale. As you know, I have been serving as King Otoharu’s personal magician these past five years. We have no intention of surrendering, but as it looks as though the war will be lost either way, he has ordered me to beg your mercy that you might spare my life. Yuki, you know me well. Kujo’s mercenaries must have taught you as well as me that I will die without hesitation to protect the ones I love, but as my king has ordered me to live I will be begging for my life tomorrow regardless. Re:vale, please hear me out, and then act as you desire. I know neither of you would ever harm me, but you are as loyal to your king as I am to mine. Though we have been enemies in war for years now, know that I will always support whatever choice you make even as we walk on different paths, and no matter what happens tomorrow I will always love you. As always, Ban.
Yuki had not been able to sleep after reading the letter. He had lain awake all night long, reading Ban’s letter again and again, and now on the battlefield he and Momo were both far more on edge than any soldier. Everyone was fighting so hard because they thought that they were going to grasp peace today, but….
I have been serving as King Otoharu’s personal magician these past five years. We have no intention of surrendering.
Last night, when they finished reading the letter over the first time around, Momo and Yuki had met eyes, and had known what they were going to do. This morning, as they prepared for battle, Momo had smiled at Okarin and said, Just so you know, we’re going to disappoint you again, so brace yourself, okay? And now, standing on the battlefield, killing spells at the ready, they knew what they were going to do. When Ban came, they would listen to everything he said, and then apologize for their role in the war. Ban would yell at Yuki for being an idiot, and maybe Momo too; then, Re:vale would join up with King Takanashi and help turn the tide of the war, all while begging Ban on bended knee to rejoin them, in whatever manner possible. They would also be waiting on Okarin hand and foot, to make up for dragging out the war and forcing him to switch sides. The two people they loved and trusted the most would be very angry with them, for very different reasons, but everything would be okay because they would all be together, and eventually the war would probably end. Yuki hadn’t bothered figuring out why it had begun, since he’d just wanted to find Ban as quickly as possible; even now, he didn’t really care about all of the fighting. He couldn’t wait for Ban to come, for Re:vale to switch sides and live happily and peacefully once more.
To reach that goal, however, they still needed to fight for now. Both sides used powerful magic, the sort that could end a life in seconds if unopposed; though most of King Takanashi’s magicians were dead and buried, their spells remained on each and every soldier, and now that Yuki knew that Ban was the final living magician, he knew why the protection spells had remained in such good condition. Ban was so kind like that. Even after he’d given up his ability to cast spells in order to protect Yuki, he was still working as a magician in some form; even after all of his comrades had died, he was maintaining their spells and protecting everyone who remained alive.
This was why Yuki didn’t hold back in the battle at all. Momo did—now that he knew that Ban was fighting, and that Ban was protecting these soldiers, he couldn’t bring himself to fight anywhere near as brutally as he always had before. Momo was far better than Yuki, kinder and smarter and stronger and more courageous and more protective. Momo wanted to protect these soldiers simply because Ban was too; Yuki had no intention of doing so until he had seen them safely reunited with Ban, because Ban had been working for Takanashi all this time, because Ban already believed that that Re:vale would kill him, even though they would rather die than harm him in any way. They had already broken their relationship with him, and so Yuki thought that he couldn’t do much more harm by injuring the soldiers on Ban’s side. After all, with the enchantments on their armor from magicians both living and dead, it wasn’t like he was doing much more than injuring them. The spell he was using was both simple and lethal—it drew from the depths of his magic pool, right where Okarin bound it to Momo’s, and overwhelmed the enemy with crushing force with a simple touch of his hand. It was strong enough to dent the armor just enough that the enchantments on it thought a lethal blow had been struck and activated, teleporting the soldier from the battlefield trapped alive in a crumpled and fused-together suit of armor and effectively neutralizing them. Ban was protective enough, Yuki knew, that none of those soldiers would be returning until they were fully healed and their armor completely repaired; since Ban was coming to see him and Momo today, none of the soldiers would be returning at all until long after their meeting had finished.
He fell into a rhythm of it, soon enough. A soldier got close—Yuki whipped around and reached out—cold metal hit his fingers and then crumpled and then the soldier vanished, again and again and again until it became automatic, until he only noticed the action after the spell was cast. Habits were good like that, kept you safe in battle, and though this particular spell was far more ruthless than the ones he’d used before, it didn’t take long for its casting to become habit.
The day, and the battle, stretched onwards, long and hot. By late afternoon, Re:vale were fighting as one unit just like any other battle, almost entirely thoughtlessly, as they waited for Ban. Momo maintained a protective barrier; Yuki kept his power flitting around the edges of it, so that the moment any enemy soldier approached he could crumple them in their armor and send them away. There would be no threats when Ban arrived.
They fought on. Re:vale was perfect together, as always, and as always, their enemies did not stand much of a chance against them. As always, Yuki did not enjoy the battle and waited for it to end—but today, the ‘end’ he waited for was Ban’s arrival and nothing else. As he cooled his fingers on the armor of the soldiers foolish enough to approach them, he thought about what he would say when Ban came, wondered about how soon he might be allowed to hug him once more. Cold metal against his fingers—Ban would be pleading for his life at first, until they heard him out and proved that they were on his side above all else Yuki could ask nothing of him. Cold metal against his fingers—Ban would be angry with them once they were all together again, he would not want to hug Yuki, Yuki would need to earn his forgiveness before asking because even angry Ban had never denied him anything before and never, ever would. Cold metal against his fingers—Ban had never stayed angry at him for long, and he had not been angry in his letter, and he had assured them that he knew they wouldn’t hurt him, but he was pleading for his life anyway, and Yuki knew Ban, knew that his
“Yuki, Momo!”
humiliation at begging could curl into white-hot anger the moment the danger subsided if Yuki couldn’t somehow become kind and thoughtful and considerate enough about Ban’s feelings during their conversation. Warm flesh on his fingers—he had been with Momo for five years now and it was still so hard for him to be properly considerate, how to be perfectly considerate of Ban whom he hadn’t seen in—
Warm?
Momo’s protective circle shattered around them as a despairing howl forced its way out of Yuki’s partner’s throat, and Yuki’s mind snapped back to reality as warm, viscous liquid seeped down his hands and to his wrists, making its way from a crushed, crumpled body that had worn no enchanted armor, had no protective spells.
A civilian? Yuki thought as Momo hit the ground, still screaming. What’s a civilian doing this far onto the battlefield? This is strange. My spell should not have been the first thing to strike an unprotected—
But the corpse had not been unprotected, Yuki realized. It wore robes, magician’s robes, with protective spells hand-woven into the very fabric itself, the diligent work of someone who didn’t realize you could accomplish a protection nearly as good by simply casting a spell—-or the diligent work of someone whose magic pool had been drained into prophecy as a last resort to protect his partner and who could no longer cast magic as a result. Because the robes protected against sword and arrow, enchantment and entropy, offensive and defensive spells alike, but like most properly strong spells, there was a loophole in its making, one that made it all the stronger for the purposeful weakness: when faced with Takanashi Otoharu or Takanashi Tsumugi or Orikasa Yukito or Sunohara Momose or any member of Re:vale at all, it would provide no more protection than common cloth.
That’s stupid, Yuki thought. Why would he make it like that? We’re enemies in this war, and in his letter he said he would be begging for his life. Why wouldn’t he protect himself from us?
—But no. It couldn’t be him. This couldn’t be him, because never ever in a million years would Yuki ever kill Ogami Banri with his own hands. Never. Never. He was not standing here with his fists buried in Ban’s chest, because he would never hurt Ban, because Ban was his family, because he loved Ban like he loved Momo, above all else in the world. Momo was screaming on the ground for some other reason. Maybe he’d stubbed his toe. This was just a civilian who had wandered onto the battlefield wearing the robes of a Takanashi court magician, and it was a tragedy that Yuki had killed him and he would regret it forever just like he’d regretted each of the sixteen other lives he personally had taken in this war, but it wasn’t Ban. It wasn’t. It wasn’t.
Momo’s wails began to take the shape of words, of Ban-san, Ban-san, Ban-san, and Yuki felt his hands tighten on the corpse’s still-warm torso and he looked harder at the magic, trying not to hear, looking for all of the ways that this corpse was not and never had been Ban. Only the robe had been enchanted, but there was some sort of time-keeping spell on the corpse’s wrist, invisibly counting down the minutes until its activation; it was simple and small and the sort of thing that Yuki ordinarily wouldn’t have given a second thought, but it also was not proof that the corpse was Ban, and so he stared at it and put every thought he could into deciphering it. It was a flash-in-the-pan spell, simple and quick, a timer that you poured magic into and then let run out. If you added more magic the timer lasted longer, but that was it, there was no other trick to it. It was the sort of spell anyone could cast, even a baby, even someone whose magic pool was constantly draining away into prophecy, and Momo was still screaming and it still sounded like Ban’s name, even though it wasn’t Ban, couldn’t be Ban. Ban would be coming at any moment now, and he would smile and make sure they were alright, and he would take the corpse off of Yuki’s hands and say, It’s okay, it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known that some random civilian would wander this far onto a battlefield in a robe that protected him from everyone except for you. It’s okay, it’s not your fault, I love you and I know that you love me, and now it’s time for you and Momo to come home with me, and everything will be okay and we’ll always be happy and we’ll all be together forever.
He had heard Ban’s voice recently, hadn’t he? He’d been so caught up in the battle and his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed it, but hadn’t Ban just called his name? Wouldn’t he be here soon? Thinking back on it, Ban’s voice had called Yuki’s and Momo’s names just before…
Just before Yuki had killed this civilian wearing robes that could have been made by Ban and should have belonged to a court magician.
Carefully, carefully, oh so carefully, Yuki lay the corpse down on the dirt and the grass. Momo clawed it towards him and held it tightly in his lap, and Yuki looked at the corpse’s dark blue hair—close to its shoulders now, slightly longer than Ban had liked to wear his hair five years ago, but the exact same shade Yuki remembered. Hand shaking, he brushed the hair out of the dead person’s face, remembering too late that his own hands were coated in blood and viscera, but the mutilation of his victim’s face was enough that it didn’t make much of a difference. The awfulness of the extent to which it was unrecognizable was nearly as bad as the awfulness of how recognizable the spellwork that made up the cloak was, and the familiarity of the hair, and the timing…
“It isn’t Ban,” Yuki said, barely managing to squeeze the words past the lump in his throat. “It can’t be Ban…it isn’t…I wouldn’t…not Ban, no, I’d never…”
Momo let out a wracking sob and pulled the body closer to him. He pressed his face into what remained of its shoulder and moaned, “Ban-san…Ban-san…Ban-san…”
“Ban’s coming,” Yuki said desperately, “he’s not dead, this isn’t him, he’s still coming…he has to, he wrote to us, that isn’t Ban, it isn’t—”
“It is!” Momo screamed. “I saw it all, Yuki! I saw—everything—it’s Ban-san, that’s Ban-san, our Ban-san! We killed him!”
But Momo hadn’t killed anybody. Momo had held back in today’s battle. It was Yuki who had gotten more vicious, violent with the promise of seeing Ban again. It was Yuki’s hands that were coated in Ban’s blood, that had killed him, that had buried themselves deep in his chest and crushed his heart, a wound that no time or magic could ever heal. Ban’s death was Yuki’s fault, and Yuki’s fault alone. No matter how much he loved him, it was clear as day now that ever since they met, Yuki had done nothing but hurt Ban and drag him into danger, and now even that was over, because Yuki had killed him. Yuki had killed his best friend. Yuki had killed the only person he’d ever wanted to call family, the only person who had seen the piece of human trash that was Orikasa Yukito and thought it something of value, the person who had brought Momo and Okarin into his life, the person who had loved him no matter what and had left him in order to keep him safe. Yuki had wanted to be in danger to protect Ban. He hadn’t wanted Ban to be the only one hurt. He had wanted it so badly that he tried to kill himself when Ban disappeared, but Momo had come and saved him and they’d decided to live together.
I should have gone through with it back then, Yuki thought, his hands dropping away from Ban’s ruined face and onto the grassy dirt beneath him. I should have killed myself long before I ever hurt you, Ban. Then you and Momo could have lived together happily…
Ban would have hated that, though. He was always worrying about Yuki. He never stayed mad at him for long. The only reason he had left Yuki alone was to protect him. He had gotten hurt because of Yuki countless times, and it was all Yuki’s fault, and he had to have known that, but he’d never blamed Yuki for any of it, and so Yuki had never blamed himself until Ban was gone. Ban would have hated it if Yuki had killed himself when they were younger, and he would hate it if Yuki followed him to the grave now. Even if Momo would prefer it if Ban’s murderer died. Even if he was proving every ounce of Okarin’s disapproval right by coming home covered in the blood of someone precious and broken under the weight of how much he had changed. Even if he wanted to avenge Ban so, so badly that it burned him up inside. Ban would hate it if he died, and he’d done so many things already that Ban hated. Momo would cry if he died, and Momo was crying so hard already. And Yuki couldn’t help but think that if he died he would be leaving Momo just as alone as Ban had left him, all those years ago.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He took Ban’s corpse’s hand in his and squeezed it tightly. It was cooler now; now that Ban’s life was gone, his warmth would follow his spirit to wherever it was that ghosts gathered. Some necromancer’s lair, maybe, or the depths of a cave, or a house long-abandoned—any place that attracted the spirits of the dead as they slowly lost their ‘selves’ and returned to become parts of magic itself. Yuki hoped that Ban’s spirit would find a nice place to rest, somewhere safe and comforting. Most places of the dead weren’t anything like that, but sometimes they were, and if anyone deserved a nice and happy place to be dead it was Ban.
He pressed his face into Ban’s cold dead hand, the hand that had pulled him forward and gotten him to look outside of himself for the first time, the hand that had held his tightly and pushed him out of danger and smacked him when he got in trouble, the hand that had led him to Momo, who had saved him. The hand was dead now, and Ban was dead too and gone forever, and Yuki had killed him, and it was all Yuki’s fault, and the only thing he could do now was live with his horrible self, because Ban and Momo would hate it if he died too. That was all. That was all.
The timer spell on Ban’s wrist activated, signaling that it would go off in a few minutes, and Yuki wondered dully what Ban had set it for, if Ban would have told them in the conversation or if it was the sort of thing they weren’t trusted with anymore. As it flared, its magic caught a sigil on Ban’s bloodstained, handwoven magician’s robe and then the corpse was gone, teleported away just like every soldier Yuki had fought that day—only this time it was far too late for any healing to help at all. No magic could save Ban now—necromancy was the weakest of all magics, and nobody could ever bring a corpse back to life.
Yuki and Momo remained huddled together alone on the bloodstained earth as the battle continued—as the cry went out that Re:vale killed Takanashi’s last magician— as the white flag of surrender was raised and the war ended in total victory for King Yaotome and none of it mattered, none of it, because Ban was dead at Yuki’s hands and they didn’t even have his body anymore.
And Okarin didn’t come, as the battlefield emptied. Okarin, who had disapproved of the war but disliked Takanashi’s magician—who had disliked Ban. He hadn’t known how precious he was to Momo and to Yuki, and so he couldn’t know how broken they were now that Yuki had killed him.
Finally, when the sun began to set and the day came to its end, they forced themselves up and went together back to Yaotome’s army’s camp. Okarin was still nowhere to be found, but neither Momo nor Yuki was quite looking for him—they were just walking aimlessly until they stumbled upon their own tent and could try and sleep and forget, for a time, about what Yuki had done today. Yuki caught sight of it after some amount of time, a moment or an eternity, and he turned to it like an oasis, but—
“Momo!”
Re:vale turned as one to see Prince Tsukumo Ryo, the son of the emperor, bounding towards them. He was friends with Momo, though Yuki had never liked him much; today, there was some sort of manic glee in his eyes, and he hurried their way with no regard for his surroundings or anything either member of Re:vale was feeling.
“Momo!” the prince sang out again. “I’ve seen something truly amazing today. I’ve finally found it! A real Master of Death—”
“If you’ll excuse us, Your Highness.” Yuki blinked as suddenly Okarin inserted himself between them and Tsukumo Ryo, his back stiff and his face severe. “It’s been a long day, and my magicians need to rest. Please don’t disturb them with your fairy tales. ”
“Aw, Side-Part, don’t you know?” Tsukumo cooed. “It’s real. I saw him with my own eyes, and I’ll do whatever it takes to find him again. I was hoping Momo would join me—”
“Momo is an Okazaki magician,” Okarin said. “He’s ours, I’m afraid, and after this war we really can’t spare him to go off chasing baseless legends.”
“Baseless, hm?” said Tsukumo. “And what were you doing today while I was chasing baseless legends?”
Okarin’s fingers clenched down on something gold in his hand; he glared at Tsukumo and said, “I had a job to do, Your Highness. Now, by your leave, my magicians need their rest. If you’ll excuse us…”
Tsukumo sighed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, very well,” he said, sounding almost artificially put-out. “Just let me know if you ever want to hunt down the Master of Death with me, Momo, okay?”
Thankfully, the prince left before Momo could give him an answer; judging by how his partner had tensed up at the prince’s words, however, Yuki suspected he could already guess what that answer would be. Ban was dead. It didn’t matter how—if there was any way to bring him back—
“Okarin,” Momo said quietly, “do you really think Ryo was wrong about there being a Master of Death?”
“I know he was,” said Okarin. “There’s no such thing. I know what he thinks he saw—I saw it, too—but that wasn’t necromancy. It was only a cheap trick to try and prolong the battle.”
“Was observing it your work for today, then?” Momo asked.
“Yes, that and…cleaning up the aftermath.” Okarin looked down at the gold in his hand—coins, Yuki suddenly realized. Coins from King Takanashi’s mint, ones nearly useless now that he had been defeated in battle and his lands were no longer his own. “It wasn’t hard work, though. I had plenty of time to lose a bet.”
“A bet?” said Momo, still abjectly failing at sounding normal. “With whom?”
Okarin shook his head and tucked the coins away. “Nobody that matters,” he said. “I heard that you guys had a tough day, though—Takanashi’s last magician was struck down by mercenary archers right in front of you, right? Are you doing alright?”
Struck down by…archers…? That wasn’t right—Yuki had been the one to kill Ban, had killed him with his own hands. Why would Okarin think…?
“…Yeah, yeah, we are,” Momo said, lying through his teeth. “Arrows can’t get past our spells, Okarin. You don’t need to worry.”
Okarin smiled at them, a horribly sad little thing. “Okay,” he said. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll have some more work to do away from you in the days to come, but the moment you say the word I’ll be by your sides again.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Momo said again, pulling up his best, most brilliant fake smile. “We’re doing just fine! Okarin— we won. Everything’s okay now.”
Yuki nodded, lending his weight to Momo’s lie. “We’re okay,” he repeated. “We won. We…got what we wanted.”
For the briefest of moments, so quickly that Yuki thought he’d probably imagined it, a deep grief flashed through Okarin’s eyes; then it was gone, and he nodded, and he said, “Alright. Take care, then, and enjoy your victory. I’ll resume my duties with the peace treaty. I’ll do my best to return every evening, at least.”
“No—don’t worry about it!” said Momo. “Don’t push yourself, Okarin. I know your job’s important, so do it well and don’t think about us, okay? You’re our Binder, but you’ve got lots of other important duties too, and I know that we’ve been…asking a lot of you lately, with joining the war and all. Just take care of the treaty, okay? We’ll see you again once it’s all done.”
For a moment, Yuki thought that Okarin would refuse, would keep pushing and stay around so that they would need to keep lying to him about things like being ‘okay’ or being ‘happy to win’ or even the truth behind Ban’s death, but after a moment, and looking incredibly guilty, Okarin nodded.
“If you say so,” he said. “I’ll write to you every day. Take care of yourselves, and don’t overdo it with the celebrations, alright?”
“You know us,” Momo said with a smile, and Okarin met it with one of his own, and then they said their goodbyes and Yuki and Momo crawled into their tent to face the horror of an unrelenting life in which they were responsible for killing the one they loved—forever.