The First Game, The Second Night

The night had turned to morning and with it brought the loud and deep bellowing chimes of a clock that echoed throughout the stone room. Waking up from this sound was Cyrus who lazily stretched in his bed before sitting straight up in shock as the events of the night before came to mind one after another.

"That was all real? Or was it a dream…" thought Cyrus before feeling something in his head…like someone gently pulling on the back of his shirt from behind.

"It was real then?" said Cyrus unsteadily, but became assured of the fact when the tug dissipated upon his acceptance.

Still somewhat in a state of disbelief, that he was more than what he had thought he was, he mechanically got up and began to dress himself for the new day before thinking to himself.

"Wait a second, I only have one uniform for the Academy and it is not exactly in the best state after the intense bout of combat yesterday."

He picked up his one and only robe and looked at the splotches of blood on it, from when he picked up Minerva as he was healing her. Next the smell of sweat hit is nose, as expected from a battle where he used his utmost focus and capability in order to come out on top. He then recalled a line from the handbook "Rules and Regulations of Glacies Academy":

"The student must always wear their uniform, the standard Glacies mage attire, as it serves as both a method of identification but also a simplification as to the identity of each student. For example, their year, their status, their department…Those who do not wear their uniform will not be allowed to participate in any official events, activities, or lessons and may be fined."

Scratching his head he figured he would have to quickly head towards the local Fullones to get his robe cleaned.

"Wait… I am unable to leave the Academy. Does Glacies have their own place to wash clothes? Surely they would not stipulate to not leave while also simultaneously not having such a basic requirement…"

Grumbling in his mind, Cyrus put on his normal travelling clothes of cloth and leather before heading out the door to greet Minerva and Imran, whose clocks should have also gone off. As he gripped the door to open it, however, his sleepy mind fully awoke and caused him to remember the implications of what he had done last night to Minerva.

He stopped in his tracks and pulled out his mask while saying,

"You got yourself in that mess, not me. I agreed to switching days but that only starts today…the first day is yours." Thus, he put the mask on and became his other half.

The masked Cyrus shook his head, half in amazement and half in pity.

"Who was the one who said, "Speech through combat"? I know I said that we will rely on one another to cover up the others flaws…but not to this extent..."

He heaved a long sigh while rubbing his temple,

"My counterpart can be so childish sometimes…well, I guess age wise we are both still young.

Moving his thoughts away from his partners antics, he once more began to head out the door with his stack of directives all tied up on his back and his robe safely stored away. He then exited the room and headed towards the small lounge to sit and wait for his two allies.

He did not have to wait at all for Imran, however, as he was already there sitting down and waiting. With a wave towards Cyrus he said,

"Good morning! Quite the loud awakening huh. I was too busy last night to even think of checking the clocks in the room, not that I would understand it though."

Cyrus sat down on the seat across from him, a large two-seater couch, and looked upon Imran looking to see if anything was out of the usual.

"In hindsight there were better ways for me to try and bridge the gap between me and Minerva. While it was the most effective one in the moment when considering myself and her, it potentially could have put me at odds with Imran" thought Cyrus inwardly.

Although outwardly he said,

"Good morning Imran. I have no doubt that you had a busy night" paused Cyrus, tracing a half circle under his eyes in reference to the circles under Imran's.

"But that is your own fault. More importantly, I will be heading out to wash my robe. Do you know if the Academy has its own Fullones?" asked Cyrus.

"My own fault? Perhaps, but pardon me for worrying about the wellbeing of someone I consider family. Especially so seeing the person responsible for her current situation seemed to not care at all" said Imran, a hint of anger in his voice.

"I needed not check on her because I am confident in my abilities. I spent a month's time constantly seeing what effect death essence has on all sorts of life, humans included. Who did I use as a test subject? Myself of course. The level of treatment I gave to Minerva is the very same I would have done to myself and I do not take risks when it comes to myself" replied Cyrus, while leaning back into the chair and looking upon Imran with a playful look contained within his eye.

"Besides, it seems reality sides with me today" said Cyrus as he gestured behind Imran.

Turning around, Imran saw Minerva walk out of her room sleepily while rubbing her eyes. She looked around, saw the two sitting down, and slowly moved towards the seat adjacent Cyrus and Imran before plopping down on it.

"How are you feeling?" asked Imran worriedly, as he had not expected her to awake so soon.

Minerva looked at Imran and said, in a rare light tone

"I am fine, thank you for worrying."

Getting his confirmation, Imran too leaned back in his seat as the tension from last night finally left him.

Minerva, looking at Imran's obvious care let loose a small smile on her usually stone-cold face which painted a perfect picture of beauty that perhaps many a famous painters would have loved to capture. Alas, that moment was broken when out of the corner of her eyes she caught Cyrus covering his face and laughing silently to himself. Transforming back to her usual self, albeit still obviously tired, she said

"And, what are you laughing about?"

Hearing her usual tone, sounding as if she was always slightly annoyed or outright dismissive of everyone around her, Cyrus laughed silently for a moment more before replying.

"Pardon me, I did not even know I was capable of such an emotion honestly. It was just…what are you wearing?"

"You mean this?" asked Minerva, moving the bedsheet she was wearing with her shoulders.

"Yes…that. Is this a fashion trend that a wastelander like me would not be able to understand?" asked Cyrus in a mocking tone.

"As you might know, Cyrus, the robes I had on got ruined by a certain someone. I tried to get some spare clothes out of my storage but whenever I try to call upon my will I just get a sharp pain in my head in return" said Minerva, her annoyance growing even further.

Cyrus had no time to consider that, as he leapt up from his seat in astonishing speed and approached Minerva. He put his hand on her temple, a move that normally she would perhaps stop from occurring but she was in no condition to do so thanks to recent events, and began to circulate his Vita domain using all the basic methods of diagnostics he knew.

"What are you doing" came a voice, that felt like the personification of a frozen landscape, from below.

"Making sure you did not damage anything permanently of course" said Cyrus, with a slight trace of panic contained within.

This statement, or perhaps the tone of his voice, quietened Minerva down until he was done with his examination.

"All good, no problems physically. This means that the pain is simply from will overdraw. When you fought last night you somehow used far more will than you should have, perhaps even exceeding your limits which interrupted the natural replenishment of your will. It seems you will have to wait another day for your will to replenish, which means you will not be able to use much magic, if any, for that duration" said Cyrus.

Minerva merely nodded in response, to which Cyrus looked down at her into her eyes with an expression of intense curiosity.

"Which brings us to the next logical question: Why did you do it? You pushed yourself to such an extent, but for what reason? We both knew what the purpose of the fight was, both as a way to bridge the gap between us as well as a mutual interest in one another's techniques. The fight had ended, or it should have, but you decided to push onwards with a suicidal act."

Minerva was silent

Bending down on his knees so that the two's heads were at equal height, Cyrus studied her carefully trying to get as much information as he could from her both her face and eyes.

Prodding her further he said,

"There was no need for you to endanger yourself like you did. We are not mortal enemies, nor are we even on bad terms, in fact I was somewhat curious about you which is I stark contrast to the small amount of regard I normally afford people. Both of us knew that, but still you persisted so. Not to mention that look in your eyes at the end right before you fainted…"

Minerva had no reply.

Deciding to push her even further he began to lay out his deductions in the open,

"In the face of defeat, did I transform from into something else for you? Perhaps the reason why you close yourself of, why you are cold to the world, the reason why you act similar to me…but no, you are not me. You are not as boring as that, but so much more interesting. Who was I? Who did I become in your eyes that you displayed such an unyielding will while at the same time self-loathing your own weakness and inability?"

Upon hearing that, Minerva finally stirred.

"Enough…" came a weak voice from within her.

Cyrus merely pretended that he had not heard her and began to speak once more.

"Enough!" said Minerva, her voice loud and clear this time around. She stopped avoiding Cyrus' intense gaze and met it head on, displaying her will once more.

"Hoh, it seems you are awake" noted Cyrus as he stood up once again, looking down upon Minerva.

"I do not know what has broken you Minerva, but I will not play coy and say I am not interested. In fact, I find myself extremely curious about you as a whole. First it was because of our apparent similarities, further expanded upon by meeting someone who had an apparent skill to match mine…which was proven at least halfway when you clearly showed your superior swordsmanship. Now, however, I am deeply engrossed in what makes you tick emotionally. What type of intense emotion did you experience during our fight which caused your actions…to do the most stupid, insane, and suicidal thing possible in that moment to the point of even ignoring reality itself." said Cyrus, his speech becoming faster and faster, while the ugly head of obsession slowly but surely began to show itself once more.

Minerva scoffed at Cyrus' act while saying,

"You wish. We are not on such close terms for me to bleed my heart out for you." Crossing her arms she looked up at Cyrus in challenge, as if saying 'So what about your interest?'.

"Then it seems I will simply have to pry open the walls surrounding your heart layer by layer until you tell me what makes you tick" declared Cyrus.

To which Minerva's eyes widened ever so slightly in response and as she was about to respond, she was interrupted by Cyrus.

"For starters, how about you thank me for saving your life? Even if Imran had ran all the way back to the main building and found someone capable of healing, he would not have made it in time. You ran through a nasty mist I created, full of a thick volume of death essence that invades and eats its way at any essence other than itself. You ran through it completely unprotected, it corroded both outside and inside as you breathed it in. You would have died without me, so at the very least a thank you would be in order correct? Or is such a convention not contained within the manners of the Empire?" pressed Cyrus.

"Thank you" said Minerva quietly.

"Thanking who? The moon, the sky, the ground?" asked Cyrus.

"Thank you…Cyrus" said Minerva, as if each word was akin to coughing up nails.

"See, that wasn't so hard" said Cyrus with a smirk as he held out his hand.

"I heard this was a common way for people to start up new relationships, possibly? I do not think novels are exactly the best source of information but I digress."

A slight smirk appeared on Minerva's face upon hearing that, but she still took his hand and shook it.

Pleased with his progress, Cyrus turned back to his seat and was about to bring up his earlier question to Imran once again…except he was fast asleep on his seat.

"He was being oddly quiet now that I think about it. He must have not slept at all while he was fussing over Minerva, hmm. What an odd thing that familial bond seems to be" thought Cyrus as he looked towards Minerva who had also noticed the sleeping Imran, showing a rare caring look upon her face.

"One of my allies is unable to use magic as well as has no decent clothing, while the other is out cold for the day. I suppose here I should look out for them in order to get them into my debt, which I can these use to manipulate them later on as I pile on the debts and gratitude eventually…" thought Cyrus, pausing as he felt a strong tug from his other half.

"Hmm, was that too much? How confusing."

Leaving his thoughts he looked at Minerva's comical figure, wrapped in bedding causing her to resemble some kind of human dessert roll, and said

"Since you two are out of action for now I will take your directives along with me to avoid the large 30% tax. While I get my robe washed I will see if I can get you a spare as well. Give me your old one as reference for what size it should be made. If it is too loose it could affect combat."

Minerva tore her gaze away from Imran, her pleasant features returning to being guarded once more but not as much as upon her and Cyrus' first meeting.

"I am wearing it right now" she said plainly.

"Yeah? Take it off" responded Cyrus, also speaking plainly.

Minerva's brows furrowed, wondering if Cyrus understood what she meant.

"I understood just fine, I am not daft. I can give you some of my spare clothes temporarily if you must have something other than…that" said Cyrus in reference to the bedsheet.

Ignoring the slowly drooping eyebrows of Minerva, the two sat in deadlock for a moment before one side sighed and conceded.

Thus, now armed with a massive pile of directives placed into a chest that he was carrying on his back along with two pairs of tattered robes, Cyrus headed out the door and began his way up the steps back to the surface.