Sixteen Shots to the Heart

What happens if six trillion butterflies flap their wings at the same time is a catastrophe without a doubt.

“One brings forth a silent disaster, and it’s always more annoying than larger spectacle.”

Lights, camera, action─! Unfocused lenses come reminiscent of the subtle note regarding triumph and failure. Gilgamesh Summers, both an old man and a child, hasn't forgotten how Luna Lafayette struck the cleanest hit to almost break his bones.

Apparently, his second childhood wouldn’t leave the scriptures any time soon.

First a detective, then afterwards a soldier.

He may have been an assassin at one point, but it’d take time to ponder on. Our dark grandfather led a hardboiled life from sniffing illegal trades to taking down criminal organizations. Most of the time, and sometimes, a house is set ablaze.

Files have been signed, cases were closed.

Gilgamesh Summers headhunted down people from.

Noble and merciless in one package, he took pride in the craft. Honing an impossible skillset made him one of the most dangerous profiles in the empire, both in the darkness and spotlight. Some time in his career, he has been sent a biopic pitch─but he scrapped out of shame.

From years of conquering his profession, he hasn’t once been bashed in the head. For a cheesy enough portrayal, caution runs in his veins in a mission to overthrow blood. Only one in a hundred occasions he’d be in grave peril, and it’s saying only five in over five hundred missions he took on his busy career.

Breathing back to retrospection, the moments he’d been hurt so badly are his fault.

And, the situation somewhat tells he’s responsible.

He closed his eyes at the impact and heard a loud thud─his back and bones ached from the fall as he desired.

One of his fellow gremlin audibly cried from underneath.

One which sobbed to a low setting, and uncontrollably the proceeding split second. How it happened so fast, his comprehension brought him back to the realm of the unknown. No matter, he let the gremlin cry while he was spread-eagled over it. It could crawl out of desperation, but chose to cry instead.

Gil felt his jaw, and as though hypocritical to his confusion─his manic giggling terrorized everyone in resonance.

Whether he cared about them or not, he pressed on the laughter knowing what transpired in the room above everything else.

Classification determined: a wizard of unfettered might.

He has no connection with almost all his classmates in the past timeline, so there was a delay to their recognition.

Luna Lafayette will actually become a celebrated athlete and knight. Her illustrious fervor as a Power Mage leads her to the highest mound. Meaning, from the moment he was bashed though using the cotton doll, the moon’s daughter has unknowingly awakened to her magic capabilities.

First being a harmful misdirection of wrath unassumingly poignant in content.

As what would be evident, Gil has yet to learn he’d dominate space.

Awakening during kindergarten isn’t unheard of, but the chances are almost down to zero for each school. Estimated of course, he doesn’t know shit about data-driven occurrences. More so, he’d be more interested in the fact he incurred someone’s awakening when he only had to tease her on childish romance. He’s freshly shot in the head two minutes ago, and he almost had a dislocated jaw the rest of his life.

Sigh.

Speaking of Luna Lafayette, she almost couldn’t believe herself.

Confusion must have swirled in her mind, knowing she’s done the improbable.

Her colorful doll fell down the floor. Thud, and sob─and prediction notice, it could have been a loud one. No matter, she wouldn’t strike him for the next one.

Think forth, what would have been farcical turned into a serious issue.

He learned he wasn’t dreaming though, and the goal has been achieved.

Costly, the events unfolded differently from what they’re supposed to take─he could have at least wished he assessed the situation better.

He’s always been spontaneous.

Reason why he can’t rest yet and see the paintbrush situation as nothing more than his wake up call.

Other than the moon child, there was also the prime gremlin.

Old mean and browbeater Czeslaw Holland caught moving in sight.

Thud, thud, and he charged at him as though he’d bodyslam both him and the boy underneath.

If not for the surprise, Gil wouldn’t know why his eyes twitched in the moment.

From being downed, he immediately got back on his little feet.

There was a cannonball on sight so, he’d be an idiot if he didn’t mobilize himself. Now, he could have dodged the yelling monster but the problem occurred for the small gremlin behind him. Merits aside, it would strike his conscience if he let it take more damage.

Late for an altruistic expression, but he could at least redeem himself from causing needless chaos amidst the chaos.

“Nn-nah─!” How hideous of a shout, it’s almost unbelievable he was scared of him as a child.

Smirk, he’s only a little child.

Gilgamesh Summers is a child, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

How cute, he bent to his center of gravity, and blocked his shoulder towards the rampaging beast so as not to fall down.

Admittedly, there’s guilt in breaking out a martial method against a mere child. However, there lived a strong sense of pompousness in his heart. Even if he exacts his devilish thoughts, he wouldn't be reprimanded this time─because he is yet a child.

He’s standing on equal ground.

“Nu-wah─!” Czes charged rampant, yelling for fortitude.

Impact in three, two, one, withstand, and push─! Czes and Gil lost their balance, and fell down to their respective sides. Turns out he’s not able to tolerate the crash, but it’s nothing inefficient at all.

He saved himself from the shockwave, letting him gain balance as fast as possible.

Gil smirked at the sight of his flushed face at the last second, all the flail in his arms before his back crashed down the floor.

Crack, and crack─! Something about the floorboards didn’t feel right, and Gil heard them feeding inspiration to his menace. Not missing his chance, he stomped in the creation of an unintentional masterpiece.

Should the artwork have been named Swiss Czes?

Negative: he fell into a hole, not riddled in holes.

Alright, moving on, the rest is a continuation of the chaos.

Our three foreplayers of the incident had their parents called in the aftermath.

Unaffiliated families who shouldn’t have anything to do with one another.

The Summerses are a terrifyingly eccentric family who have a neurotic patriarch. No one wanted to associate with them until their child became a professional detective. From one recourse of history to another, it seems Gilgamesh moved the chair by an inch farther than bearable.

Out of something equivocally insignificant, three mothers exchanged looks at each other.

One was furious, one was terrified, and the last was the most relaxed.

For the last one, you could say she couldn't read the atmosphere─and the boy in her care looked no different.

“He’s the enemy!”

Disturbing the ennui, the little girl directed towards the dark.

“Heehee, Gil’s making friends at school now!” A calloused hand down to a child’s head, a kind mother petted her son. “You finally changed your mind?”

“No, he’s not a friend,” Little Luna stipulated, furrowing her eyebrows to a scowl. “He’s the enemy! Czes, he’s the enemy, right?”

Eyes shifted to directions, someone didn’t want to meet anyone’s gaze.

Not even from the little children, she might just fade out knowing her child was being called forth to make an enemy of the Summerses.

Young Czes is juvenile, so he would most certainly follow his bad blood.

As to why it was a surprise when he opposed the thought.

“No, he’s a friend!”

And, he definitely upheld his words even as a mere kindergartner.

Gilgamesh Summers and Czeslaw Holland, a duet respectively born of the darkness and the light. Nine long years have passed and they settled to the thought they were friends for a reason obscure for his consideration. Yet, he blindly accepted what was offered─both as a child and a grandfather.

Not twisting the context, they were more than friends.

Neighborhood’s troublemakers Gil and Czes were inseparable brothers who didn’t let their differences churn hatred for one another.

Gilgamesh huffed a sigh; because, it better not be him rating their trust so spectacularly.

“Mental block… I think so, but I’d be more convinced of the opposite. I’m feeling unhinged today,” Gilgamesh answered, in adherence to the last question asked.

Czeslaw looked at him for a second─and smiled at all possible reactions.

“Same as usual, then,” he said.

Yes, same as usual.

Gilgamesh yawned once more, depleting himself of his unwarranted thoughts.

He looked towards the horizon as he walked.

For both mice and men of Mathers, the privilege of sunlight is deprived in four extended hours.

Sun shines six normally: every other town situated in the immediate northwest of the sacred tree doesn’t see the sun smile until ten. Until then, the environment solely relies on overworked power spirits providing light since they first signed the contract. As it’s already closer to noon, a strong illumination is broken upon them. Mister Sun no longer sporting a kind smile, he’s already transitioning to a sadistic grin.

Needless to say, their schedule doesn’t coincide alongside the giving grace but by imperial standards.

Primarily because trade doesn’t sleep.

If the capital runs a clockwork setting, then it’s unacceptable for the smaller channels not to match their tempo.

School is the only exception because they begin an hour earlier than daybreak, thus speaking for their crowd. Crowd as a collection, but are too lethargic to be forgotten as an existence. If not for Coleslaw, the farmer wouldn’t have noticed the scattered file of zombies before his sidewalk.

Although, it wasn’t at all worrisome for they were about to be awakened.

Giorno, their local coffee shop strategically built before the school, hits next on the block.

Gilgamesh wants his morning coffee as fast as possible to function.

And so, he walked faster as soon as he smelled freshly grounded coffee beans wafting in the air. Gilgamesh stood before the counter, not realizing he opened the door. He might not have even heard the bell chime, but who’s counting on his observation skills anyway?

What was with the diligent ambience of the cafe, he didn’t care.

As long as he doesn’t awaken from the dream.

“Here!” Mister Kensho, the barista, readily handed an unfathomably tall cup─a tall order in lieu of a pun. “Your daily blend, kiddo.”

Everyone winced at the vicinity as they heard the exact same line for the umpteenth time. Small populace, almost all students and a few teachers lurking around for passive surveillance. Same sweet reactions of repulse to a shared common knowledge.

Once in their lives, they may have tried the signature blend attached to his name.

“Sixteen…” he murmured to himself.

He should have thought about it earlier: Iced coffee with sixteen shots of espresso, or was it truly the case? And if so, will the corresponding number of shots energize his downtrodden morning soul…No, more question marks and he’s done for.

“You know Kensho-san… for the last time, you should have waited.”

“Hmm, did I make a mistake?”

Mister Kensho didn’t stop brewing the next order.

“You always order the same thing so yer not about to say I’m messing it up every single time, huh?”

“Not the case, not my character.” Gilgamesh huffed a sigh. “Only that sixteen might not cut it this time.”

Astounded, everyone in the place raised their eyebrows.

Nothing about the sentence felt sane at all, and they’re not going to ignore a shot in awareness of its serious nature.

Gilgamesh pitched no goofballs in his life.

And, the only person who believed he could until now was only an inch besides him.

“How, exactly?” Czeslaw chuckled, taking the remark foolish on impulse.

If anything, the black child chooses to be civil and serious as a person but his words are light to the friendly standard.

Gilgamesh knows so because Czeslaw thinks so, too.

Imagining an inherent banter between them, Mister Kensho has already changed his focus to his work.

“Well yeah, I haven’t slept yet,” Gilgamesh answered as a matter of fact, then put a little more thought into how he’s exactly in need of additional shots.

“What fancy combination do you like to try today, Chesuwaffu?”

Of course, Czeslaw raised an eyebrow to what reason he heard─but folded twice more for the overlaying question. Out of place, a killing blow has been delivered. Chaos stormed to their little inclusion over the counter.

“Wait, did you say you haven’t slept yet?” Mister Kensho raised his head, and stopped his hands.

Gilgamesh chuckled in the instance, naught of attention to his worrisome problem which needed to be kept in check.

No one needs to show concern for his heart. He deviously halted a production, and now has the white knight candidate knotted to a simple tease. Fairly, a plan wouldn’t have come into fruition if the shift didn’t belong to Mister Kensho─but he’d been the godsend so far.

Czeslaw, a boy taken into the edge without a slight tinge of realization, opted to answer the easier problem.

“I’ll have a doppio frap, thanks. And with extra milk.”