2.4 Cheery? Cérise, Same Thing

They ran out of pamphlets. There were no new recruits. Akiha said, "We can continue tomo—"

"No," replied Two-Rabbit.

"But—"

"No."

Two-Rabbit didn't mind traveling, which had influenced his decision to join. Mostly, he wanted to die, and he was bored. However, despite the pamphlet clearly advertising a journey, they'd yet to leave Khon-Pak. Snail's guardian had returned beaten and bandaged, with Mish slung over his shoulder, and his jade green cloak torn asunder. That last part was especially painful for Two-Rabbit. He'd once had one of those cloaks. Very durable. Hard to find these days.

Given reports of foreigners committing terrorism, the city was on a twelve-hour lockdown. The pub they waited in was packed. Probably because it stood right next to the SSS traveling agency. Smart business decision.

"I don't get it," Snail mumbled. "No one's joining."

Akiha, already on his second drink, slammed the beer mug on the table. "Right?"

Mish, on her third, said, "Left," before she burst out giggling.

Two-Rabbit was surrounded by idiots.

"He said it'd be easy," lamented Akiha. "That people here love this kind of thing. That's what he said. But he lied."

"Who?" Asked Mish.

"Lazslo."

"Who?" Asked Two-Rabbit.

This seemed to snap him out of it. "Huh? Um. Uh. A guy. Mountains. Monk. I went to him for guidance when the... when the disaster happened."

So Akiha had traveled to a neighboring country to find help because an ascetic nutjob told him to? Then again, Two-Rabbit had worked as a bartender enough to know how these things went. Amassing companions. Seeking help from scammers. Defeating local dark lords. Like Snail, he drank fruit juice instead of alcohol. As for Snail's guardian... "Where is Cheery?" Asked Two-Rabbit.

They looked around.

"If he left again..."

"He didn't," Snail assured. "He told me he'd stay here, just not, um, in this table."

"Of course," grumbled Akiha.

"I-I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, sweetie," said Mish. Two-Rabbit agreed. "Some people have no manners. Did I tell you guys that I got—"

"Kidnapped?" That was Snail.

"Yes." That was Two-Rabbit. "Four times."

"—kidnapped? Because of Cheery? Cérise. Same thing. I almost died. If it weren't for the p-p-por... por... table baths, I'd be awash in blood. Awash!" She slammed the mug again.

"Thank you for purchasing those, by the way," Akiha told Two-Rabbit.

"You're welcome."

"No, I mean it. Truly. You... you have no idea how much I—"

"NO SLEEPING ON THE COUNTER!"

Naturally, this got the attention of most of the pub. There were two counters. The scream came from the one on the back. Where a bartender snapped at a drunkard who'd passed out.

Snail scrambled up.

"OUT!"

This wasn't Morr, where beating up wasted customers was legal, so the bartender had to settle for yelling. Still, it didn't take long for a third party to offer doing so on his behalf, which led to Snail calling out, "Wait!" To no avail, so she had to push through the crowd to fetch an intoxicated Cérise. Two-Rabbit would've done to help, but they had two other drunken fools to deal with already.

Of course, Cérise, Akiha and Mish weren't the only ones like this. These were trying times. Two-Rabbit hadn't kicked drunken fools out too often, back when he still had a job. Often, children, spouses or friends had gone to pick up the shell of a person they once knew. At that point, they became memories that ran away from their own.

***

Before the Sand Wraiths, there was Cérise and Luke.

Before Luke, there was nobody else.

That day, Cérise wouldn't have met him had he not gone to the park, and he wouldn't have gone to the park had his mother not forced him to. 'get some friends your age' and 'please TALK to someone' and all that nonsense. While he killed some time throwing pebbles at the pond, he sniped a kid by accident. It wasn't like his aim was that bad, but rather, that the kid had crouched right across him. "Your fault," Cérise told him, standing up.

The kid grimaced, holding the side of his head. "Sorry, I just noticed you had a sword, and..."

"...and?"

"Hey, no need to be angry, I'm not saying it like, in a bad way or anything."

"I'm not angry."

"Let's have a duel," the kid told him.

"Why?"

"Cuz."

He couldn't argue with that logic. Besides, he'd always kind of wanted to spar with a real person and not a dummy on his backyard. They headed to the plain next to the park, at the edge of the town, where the of grass and the gentle, warm breeze would be the only ones to spectate Cérise's first real battle. Thirty seconds later, he beat up the kid and went back home, disappointed.

The moment he crossed the fabric they had for a door, his mother, who sat on the floor surrounded by gems of various sizes, asked, "How many friends did you make?"

"Ten billion."

"That's an improvement over yesterday's nine billion. You're doing great!"

Funny.

He walked.

He stopped.

"What?" He asked, when his mother stared at something behind him.

"Is that...? Are you...?"

She wasn't talking to Cérise anymore, but to something—someone—behind him. "Friend," replied the kid from the park. Both Cérise and his mother stared at him the same way. "Sorry. I'm just really bored. I'll make you guys something to eat."

The kid invited himself into the kitchen. Cérise and his mother exchanged glances. "Friend?" She asked.

"Uh..." Though now that he thought about it, this kid could be the key to never leaving the house again (any more than necessary). He'd just deal with the consequences later. "...uh-huh."

Then he went to the kitchen, too. It was a small house, made of clay, where doors were all hand-woven, multi-colored fabrics which downgraded to mats once they began to wear. The kid didn't look too out of place in that sense, though it was the first time Cérise had seen someone with purple hair. He told the kid, "Get out."

"Your sister will know you lied if I do."

"That's..." Oh, whatever.

The kid smirked at him. "See? Anyway, you guys don't seem to have much to cook with, but I'll try. I'm good at it, actually. My parents have a bakery, but I'll get lost if I go there and bake and then come back. Have you tried coffee? No? That's what I thought. No offense, but I don't like... what was it? Cold soup? Yeah, no. Soup should be hot. Anyway, I drink coffee instead of that. I think you might like it." All the while, he'd been inspecting the counter, the cupboards. "Where's the flour?"

Cérise gestured at the cupboard's top shelf.

"Thank y... hey, I can't reach it."

"Stand on your toes."

"I am!"

He was. Cérise, who had already resigned himself to his fate, walked over to the counter. Minutes later, they were making dumplings. "I saw you guys have a forge," blabbered the boy. "Is your mom a blacksmith? What's with the jewels from earlier? How do you guys not get break-ins without doors?"

"Break-ins?"

"Yeah, like. Thieves robbing the house... no? None of that? Cool. So, anyway, the forge. Is your dad dead? Why do you keep looking at me like that? Your father."

"Oh. No, he's fine. Taking a nap, probably."

By the time Cérise finally finished a dumpling, the kid had spawned at least a dozen already. Cérise's own certainly lacked that teardrop... shape... thing. His was more like a hedgehog. "So they're blacksmith jewelers and you're a swordsman?"

"No."

The kid physically recoiled at the following silence. "Then what? Explain."

"No."

"All right, then I'll keep talking."

"I'm also a blacksmith," said Cérise. "Um. Practicing. But I like swords."

"Why?"

"Cuz."

But it seemed as though this kid could argue with that logic. "I'm not a warrior or anything, but even I know swords have been phased out. There's also that one book... Swords Are Too Cliché? Yeah, that one got so popular they sold it at grocery stores. So why use one? Also, why take it to the park?"

He hadn't noticed the kid tooked his dumpling and reshaped it until he tried to use it as a distraction. Awkwardly, Cérise began to make a new one. "I just... I just like them. I don't like magic."

"I can teach you."

"It's not that I can't use it. I just don't like it. I have to for school."

"Do you use a sword at school at well?" Asked Luke. "For combat classes? I wish I could go, but my parents recently got into unschooling. You don't know what that is? Good. I mean it. It's the worst thing that happened to me. Anyway, is that why you don't have friends?"

Cérise glared at him. "Oh, and you do?"

"Ha. Nope. We just moved here, and I can't go to school, so."

"So that's why you're bothering me."

"Ha. Yup. That, and it's been a while since I last saw someone with a sword in public. Don't look at me like that. You know it's true. I don't think it's like, bad or anything. Quite the contrary. If I could go to school and talk to people my age you'd be the one I'd go to anyway."

"And I'd ignore you," said Cérise, which was true. Nothing annoyed him more than people trying to be nice by invading his space. 'Hey, we noticed we're alone and wanted to know if we can sit here?' 'No. Die.' kind of nonsense. With that said, this kid would be the sort to think that getting told to die was an invitation.

"Maybe."

Silence. It could be conditioning, but the absence of yapping was unnerving. "So what's your name?"

"Luke." After a few seconds of nothing, Luke added, "This is where you say your name."

Right. "Cérise."

"Che... she... reez. It's hard to pronounce even with three language grimoires."

"Then learn without cheating."

Luke snorted. "Cheating. It's a tool. It's not like you just instantly learn languages by using them. If you don't practice, you'll forget. I'll teach you Shiou sometime. It's like... like this one, but a lot less guttural. Actually, never mind, they're different. But I'll teach you anyway. And also how to fold dumplings because holy shit. And you teach me sword techniques."

"Why?"

"Cuz."

"No, no. I answered. It's your turn."

"...right, so..." Luke worked on his eighteenth dumpling for some time. "...you'll see."

Before and after Cérise, to Luke, and despite parental imprisonment, there were a lot of somebodies. He talked and he talked and he talked and they listened, but the second most important part was that he listened, too. The first was that he never really said anything.

To date, Cérise had yet to 'see'.