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▓ [CONTENT WARNING]:
▓ Offensive language.
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Callous's swordsmanship was indeed poor.
His form was clumsy, and his defense needed improvement as he charged us round after round without success.
"Had enough?" Winston and I asked after he exhausted himself.
"…You…fuckers…!!" Callous cursed, laying collapsed on the grass. "…I've been…chasing you…all…this time…!! You two…aren't even…fighting back…!! That isn't…fair…!!"
Winston and I shared a gleeful smirk, and Callous flushed as he continued huffing at us.
"Are you giving up, then?" I asked, exhaling as I used the sleeve of my shoulder to wipe away the sweat that was cascading down my face.
"…No…" Callous breathed after contemplation. "I'm not…giving up… I'll beat you two…sooner or later…"
I couldn't help but chuckle.
Through either pride or vindictiveness, Callous persisted in challenging us despite his current skills and our obvious half-heartedness.
Yet…perhaps due to the heat of midday beating down on all three of us…it felt a shame not to meet his determination head-on.
"You're right, we haven't been fair," I said, casting a shadow over Callous as I stood over him. "That's why… Here," I said, offering my hand.
"…What? What is that?" Callous asked suspiciously, staring up at my hand with confusion.
I paused, thinking before answering, "For us to reconcile. And…for me to apologize… While I regret none of the harsh words we exchanged…I'm sorry for insulting you by questioning your family. We'll be seeing more of each other where we're headed, so…let's get along now."
…
"You don't have to accept—" I began saying before Callous grasped my hand with lightning speed.
"You…You're forgiven…" he huffed, his eyes warming for the first time as I helped him stand.
"You. Apologize as well," Winston demanded as he elbowed his way between Callous and me.
"Me?!" Callous exclaimed. "Why should I have to—oh… …I called Air [ugly] and you [short], didn't I? Heh…weeeell, you'll grow taller someday, and scars are really cool. Even with them, Air is actually handsome and pretty—OW!! THAT HURTS!!!"
"If you don't know how to apologize, all you say is 'sorry' and the [reason] why you are," Winston quietly said, squeezing Callous's hand even harder.
"ALRIGHT!! SORRY—I'M SORRY!! I'M SORRY FOR TEASING YOU BOTH—THERE!! NOW STOP!!!" Callous roared, stumbling back as Winston released him.
I hid my amusement, but Callous must have noticed because he flushed with embarrassment, his mouth twisting as he refrained from shouting expletives.
Clearing my throat, I picked up Callous's blunt sword and returned it, telling him, "Maintain [proper] respect for Winston and me, and we'll do the same for you. Fair enough?"
…
"…Hmph," was all Callous grumbled as he accepted the sword. The ends of his mouth were twitching up, however…
Thus passed several days of Callous losing against Winston and me.
Callous had potential, yet…once he realized how much of a gap there was between him and us, his bouts of anger became frequent, and he often stormed away when suffering enough defeats for the day.
So…it wasn't unexpected that he one day [snapped].
Having not won once, and his patience having died, Callous threw down his sword with a frustrated growl and rushed the nearest one of us.
Me.
I simply grabbed his outstretched arms to nudge him aside, making him tumble using his own momentum. He caught himself with a snarl, however, and pivoted on his feet and heel to tackle me, wrapping his arms around me as we crashed onto the ground.
He landed on top as my back hit the grass, and I cursed as my breath left me.
"Hey…let go!!" I huffed as soon as I recovered, struggling to sit as I attempted to free my arms from Callous's hold.
"NO! I'VE HAD ENOUGH, YOU BASTARDS!!" Callous growled, his arms tightening around me as Winston tried yanking him from behind. "I KNOW YOU'RE LOOKING DOWN AT ME!! YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER JUST 'CAUSE YOU'RE STRONGER, DON'T YOU?!"
"When did we ever—no, let go first, then we'll discuss this!!" I hissed, freeing one of my arms as Winston managed to tug Callous an inch away from me.
"NO!!!" Callous stubbornly roared, burrowing against me as I shoved at his face. "WHAT'S THERE TO DISCUSS?!! HOW HOPELESS IT IS FOR ME—AND HOW I WON'T LAST ONE SECOND WITHIN THE BRANCH SECT?!! WELL—FUCK THAT—AND FUCK YOU TWO!!"
[…]
"Callous," I uttered, my own patience withering as I placed my free hand at the back of his head, ready to pull. "Don't blame us for [your] own shortcomings. Why release your anger on us? By proving you were serious, is this all you have to show? These [tantrums] of yours…Winston and I will tolerate only so much—"
Callous pulled back and punched me across the face.
[…]
"…I…I'm not a [child]…" he rasped, his expression crumbling as his voice trembled with fury and a hint of despair. "You…how [dare] you speak to me just like he would…!" he continued while I wiped away the blood trickling from my injured lip. "Who do you think you are…?! I-I won't allow some—[scar-faced]—[pig]—to speak so condescendingly at—"
I returned Callous's punch, and he made a choking sound as he crashed backwards.
…
"…He fainted," Winston remarked as I joined him standing over Callous's body.
"Ah…even though I held back…"
"I wouldn't have."
"…Hm. He could learn to redirect his temper."
"…I don't like him, Air… Let's not keep him."
…
"He certainly has... … …and... …issues…"
"… ...safer…without him... …?"
"...maybe... … …right... …"
"… …"
"… …"
…
=====
[Callous.]
…
[Callous…]
…
"Callous…" the warm voice whispered, closer and more convincingly.
A voice he hadn't heard in a long time.
…
"…Ma...?" Callous asked, stirring as he opened his eyes to the murky darkness.
In response, he felt a ghostly touch of a hand caress his face, its warmth and softness bringing an unbearable ache to his chest as this was something he sought for his entire life.
"…Ma..." he whispered, his voice cracking as he closed his eyes, wanting to live in this moment for the rest of his unwanted eternity. "…You…do you love me, now…?"
A second presence joined his mother, and he jolted when a familiar hand touched his shoulder.
[Father.]
"Callous," spoke the man.
…
Such [unfamiliar] and [repulsive] pride and gentleness in the way his name was called.
Only then did he realize he was dreaming.
Instantly—the presences behind him disappeared, and he was left surrendering to that familiar, desolate darkness.
[…]
[…I hate this…]
…
Just as he was submerging, something flickered in the dark, taunting his fall.
A strong visage of [him].
The boy who stole [everything] from Callous, the [cause] of every wrongdoing in Callous's life.
In that painfully bright light, that boy approached Callous's father, but instead of receiving harsh and soul-ravaging berates and lessons, the boy received a pat on his head, a stroke to his cheek, a caring and warm—
Callous lunged out from the depths of the darkness, fury and jealously ripping through him as he reached for the boy, screaming for the boy to [DIE] as he wrapped his hands around the boy's neck, [crushing]—and [wringing]—and—
The face shifted, and Callous faltered when it warped into what little semblance he could recall of his mother's.
[…]
"…Die…" he wished horridly as his hands involuntarily squeezed. "…Just…die…"
Only when the face languished as his father's did his hands release with regret.
[…]
[…Please…]
[...just…die…]
…
=====
"Callous…" a wiry voice whispered, stirring Callous awake.
[…]
"You're bleeding and crying, Callouss—"
"Shut up, [Snare]," Callous uttered as he sat, glaring emptily at the bony, lanky person standing over him until they tossed him a handkerchief.
"Your precious little [friends] left," Snare continued speaking while Callous used the handkerchief to wipe his face. "Did they finally tire of you and leave?"
[…]
"Ohhhhh…" Snare breathed mockingly. "You care for them more than you realize… Did playing around make you [weak]? Don't tell me you won't follow through with your plan?" Snare asked, tossing Callous a handful of tied, bloody Trial tags that were procured under Callous's orders.
[…]
A giggle burst from Callous, and it wasn't long before he was outright laughing.
"Good! Very good…!" Callous chuckled, lifting the tags and making them clack as he twirled them by the end of their strings. "What about the ones from the other day? Did you find them?" he asked, referring to the four Trial registrants who had chased him around town, accusing him of stealing their nonexistent tags. The day Callous introduced himself to Air and Winston…
"They're with [him] at the moment," Snare answered, alluding to [him] having handled the task of finding and torturing those registrants.
If not for Callous's innate wariness towards Snare, Callous would have hurled the tags back at their face.
That [fucker] was the last thing he wanted to hear about right now—and if he had woken to the sight of [his] face instead of Snare's, Callous would have made true his miserable desires to kill [him].
[…]
As for Air and Winston…
It was vexing how Air saw right through his immature antics.
[Don't blame us for [your] own shortcomings], Air's words echoed. [Why release your anger on us? By proving you were serious, is this all you have to show?]
[…]
That overbearing straightforwardness that almost always perceived the root of all problems—it reminded him so much of his father and what Callous himself lacked that he lashed out, [needing] to shut her up.
Not only that…but the relationship between her and Winston annoyed him even more. Seeing how close they were and how they looked after one another…
He wanted to [ruin] them.
"Heh heh…" he chuckled, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled to himself. "Who says I'll let them off…? Continue following them," he ordered Snare. "I'll get what I want before I'm done with them."
A slither of a smile visited Snare's face, and Callous tried hard not to recoil.
"As you desire, oh [delicate] Callouss."
"…Fuck off."
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And thus…
That was the tragic start to how Winston and I met [him].