Not Forgotten

“Daddy, when can we see mom again?”

He hadn’t seen his mother in the months that followed after his father’s words. Left at his grandparents, they never told him a thing about her, always skirting around the subject. Eventually, his father came back to see him fresh off the train after months of spending time with his mother.

“…”

“I’ve been at grandma and grandpa’s and they won’t tell me about mom. Am I going to be able to see mom?”

“…Fumihito, your mom is… she’s passed, son.”

“…W-What?”

His father kneeled on the ground and rested his hands upon the trembling boy’s shoulders. Not a single emotion in the older man’s eyes as he reached over and pulled the boy close to his chest, feeling them shudder.

In truth, this was the first moment when Fumihito drowned it out. That horrifying despair that clung to his heart for so long eventually took root and blocked his heart out.

“Your mother’s gone, Fumihito. I’m sorry.”

This was when he drowned out the memory of his mother’s face. How she eventually became the faceless woman in his dreams and memories.

‘What do I do?’

What other options were there for Fumihito Hanada?

After Erlana had left, he hadn’t moved an inch from the bed of their room. He thought he had understood her, but he didn’t even know anything past a smile and her eyes. Like that was enough to judge a person. There was no anger at what she had said because she had read him like a book and exposed every inch of her past to him. The biggest thing about everything she had told him wasn’t how horrible her past was, but…

It was how she moved forward.

She had been ridiculed, insulted, and even told by her parents over and over again that her dreams would amount to nothing. Despite that, she kept trying regardless of what people said to prove to everyone that she could do more.

Hell, she had even admitted to how she was jealous of him when he first showed signs of magical potential. He didn’t even want the damn power and yet she had still tolerated more than anybody should have. As horrible as it was to think it, if their positions had been reversed, he would have despised her.

But maybe that was just why they were different.

‘I can’t save this town and I can’t even save myself. The first sign of trouble comes and I go running. Save people from death? I couldn’t even save them when I had the power to mess with death…’

He had pushed her away to handle the burden alone and when that weight touched his shoulders, what did he do? Fear took him and in that moment, he pushed those spirits over the edge and away from a chance at salvation.

‘...Maybe I should just leave with Scrimgeour. I don’t exactly have much else here tying me down, do I?’

However, the only person tying him down was still here, and she was out there risking her life for a town on the brink of collapse.

The thought of helping Erlana pounded at his skull, but he didn’t have the will necessary to pursue it. He didn’t have the capacity or power to stand against the spirits before. Now that they were corrupted, what could he do? If he tried again, it was only going to end up making the situation even worse than it already was The second he confronted them, he ran away. What guarantee was there that he wouldn’t do the same again?

Giving up just seemed reasonable.

“So, I guess things didn’t go so well between Erlana and you, did they?”

A voice dragged him from his thoughts, probably for the better, and back to reality. He looked up from the bed back to the robed form of Scrimgeour standing across from him and at the door of the room. The undead closed it behind him and pulled down their hood, taking a long look at him.

If they had skin, he was sure the lips on Scrimgeour’s face would be curled upwards.

“...Don’t tell me, let a thief guess. You two got into a fight, right? She finally revealed that she was a non-mage or was it you snapping at her because you felt insecure? Second one’s pretty popular.”

That managed to get a reaction out of him. The information that Scrimgeour had just said when it came back to Erlana. He rose out of bed and sat upright, glaring at the undead.

“Did you know? About Erlana?”

The undead didn’t look guilty at all.

“More like I had a hunch. Couldn’t be too sure, but I took a few educated guesses on how she acted around us. Mainly you. Hard not to notice with the experience I’ve had when I was alive.”

He scoffed at the notion of that.

“So, you still knew the entire time and you never once told me? Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

In truth, he already knew the answer, but he just wanted someone to be angry at. Even if it was Scrimgeour who was offering his words.

“Because it wasn’t my secret to tell. Enough about that though, let’s talk about you. You’ve given up, right? Is that what you’re doing now?”

Scrimgeour would receive a rather cross gesture from his right hand and a glare their way. As if they needed to ask about that at all. Strangely enough, he couldn’t hear a single ounce of anger or annoyance from Scrimgeour. He thought the undead would berate him, insult him, or maybe call him an idiot and encourage him to go out and do his job.

But they simply stared, arms crossed over one another.

“Of course I have. Look at the state of Tartarus after I tried to fix things. I made their entire lives ten times worse than what they were before and now everybody’s in danger and Erlana’s out there right now trying to solve things on her own!”

He pressed his hands into his scalp and growled at the thought of it all. This entire situation was thrust into his hands because he chose to do this. The worst part about it all was that he couldn’t blame people. He couldn’t blame his father, he couldn’t blame the world, and he couldn’t even blame Erlana who ended up summoning him to this world.

It was his choice to help and what did he have to show for it?

Nothing.

“Why wouldn’t I give up? It’s over, Scrimgeour, and if you want to go off on your own and find whatever it is you need, you go do that. It’s not like I can stop you.”

A haggard breath tore through his body and he looked down at his hands. The very same hands that trembled out of the memories he saw once again. The memories of every spirit that looked to him for help before he threw them away and screamed at them. He expected Scrimgeour to give him a speech, maybe even punch him across the face, but what he did next left him shocked.

The undead simply took a seat right beside him and stared ahead at the wall.

“...Well, you’re not wrong. You did make things worse and I could probably see how far I get without you. I’ve always managed to land on my feet despite the situation, so it wouldn’t be too hard.”

What was he expecting?

For a moment, he almost thought the skeleton had some age-old wisdom to fall back on. However, it just showed him how much of a thief this guy truly was even in death. He rolled his eyes and prepared to pick himself up and move, maybe to push Erlana to the furthest reaches of his mind.

“It was a woman.”

He froze.

Scrimgeour kept going.

“I met her when I was dragged into the revolution. She was brash, she was blunt, and she was pretty damn rude to me when we first met. Had a mean right hook and didn’t take no for an answer when it came down to surrender. Strangely enough, I managed to lie and cheat my way out of everyone there, but her?” The skeleton tapped the side of his skull and clicked his jaw twice.

“Nope, she saw right through me. Called me a coward, a cheat, and the most pathetic sniveling worm she had ever met in her entire life. I was flattered, of course, but I also got to know her. As much as she got to know me. We spent our days together insulting each other, sometimes arguing, but I saw someone who was burdened with so much in her life.”

He looked at Scrimgeour as the undead leaned back and looked up at the ceiling as if they were seeing their life played by.

“We got closer and eventually I came to love her. It was near the end of the revolution, the final battle, and the corrupt king. I told her to stay back and work with the main army while I, the ‘Great Paladin’ assassinated the king. She made me promise to come back to her and I did just that. I came back to her as a corpse and a blade.”

And at last, Scrimgeour bowed forward and clasped their hands together with a subtle tremor in their bones.

“I died. I couldn’t fulfill my promise and left the love of my life and our unborn child alone. When I became a spirit, the thing that made me stay there near my grave was the thought of what happened. I could have passed on, sure, but I wanted to know if she was fine. It wasn’t enough for me to put my faith into death, so I clung to the spiritual side…,” Scrimgeour pushed aside his robes to expose his ribcage. A hand moved to their chest, over where their heart would be.

“I was ready to give up. To fade away and go into the unknown. Up until you came along and brought me back. For the first time in a long time, I had some hope. You gave me that hope, Erlana and you together.”

It made a lot more sense.

How Scrimgeour came to be, how he clung to being a spirit, and now how he had maintained such a personality. He just couldn’t believe someone who played the role of an idiot could have a storied life behind them. Then again, it wasn’t like he went out of his way to talk to Scrimgeour unless it was necessary.

He was just as afraid of him as he was of the spirits.

Sure, Scrimgeour could talk, walk, and act like anybody else, but he was the biggest reminder of what life came to. What he couldn’t fight against.

Death.

“So, what? I come along and give you a little hope and you think I should go ahead and keep trying to save this town even though I’ll probably fail?”

He expected a simple yes.

“No. If you wanted to run away, I wouldn’t stop you.”

That wasn’t the answer he expected at all.

“Look, I’d be a liar if I said I never thought about running away when I was alive either. I was a thief, nothing more and nothing less. Despite all the legends people spouted about me, I got by on luck alone. I’ve seen sieges, I’ve seen bloodbaths, and I’ve seen men and women die for what they believe in. I wanted to run away every time.”

So, why didn’t…

“Then why didn’t you?”

Scrimgeour looked back at him and clicked their jaw.

“Eventually, I saw people risk their lives all for me because they believed I was some special savior. People were dying because they thought I could change things and I did.”

They were different though, the two of them.

“...You didn’t run away though.”

“True, I didn’t, but there’s still time for you to rise to your feet and change things too.”

“But what if I’m not strong enough? I couldn’t face them the first time. What if the second time…”

“It’s not about whether you’re strong or not. It’s about having the will to push past your fear. We’re all afraid, Fumihito, but it only gets to us if we let it. You can choose to give up and let things happen or you can change things. That choice is forever yours."

It was so difficult. This world was out of his grasp and these powers were something he didn’t understand. That mysterious undead from his dreams even said so himself. The air was rotten, foul to his nostrils, and the wooden planks beneath his feet brimmed with dust and muddy imprints.

He could give up.

And maybe, just maybe, he would forget about Erlana and go on to find his way back home, but he didn’t want to forget. She was someone he couldn’t forget. He didn’t know her well enough at first, that was true, and there was a lot about her that he still didn’t understand. But she was the first person he had ever met in his entire life who had turned things around again. If he lost her…

He’d lose her face forever.

“So, Fumihito Hanada… What are you going to do?”

His choice had already been made.

“...Scrimgeour, I’m going to need a fresh set of clothes. You said those spirits attacked you when you were close, right?”

The undead looked hesitant.

“Yes?”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Good, now let’s go.”

This time, he wouldn’t lose this town, these people, and Erlana. Because he was not going to allow her to become another faceless person in his memories. Not while he could still breathe.