• Farsight

    A young man's only heart

    "Do you see the sky, lads?" a man called down from his rooftop to a group of traveling circus performers. "Notice how it is night and yet it still projects the redness of blood above us."
    "What is he talking about?" a clown girl asked.
    "Maybe he's delusional," a bearded woman shrugged.
    "He's just drunk," an acrobat boy suggested.
    "What do you make of this, friend?" the ring leader asked the young man on top of his wagon.
    There on the wagon laid a young squire--at least that's what everyone else in Calami City referred to him as--with dark blue hair, light red eyes, and copper-toned skin. He was about five foot seven, nearly as tall as a full-grown man, and yet had the face of a tired child. His sharp fangs on his top teeth made him almost seem as if he were a snake or a vampire. His hair waved in the direction of Dystopia's light wind, being as it was down to his collar bones. On his right side laid a sword as long as his legs and on his left laid a pouch as big as his skull. He stared into the sky with an unamused expression.
    "Friend?" the ring leader repeated again.
    "What is it?" the boy yawned. "I'm trying to sleep!"
    "Oh! I am sorry. It was this old man that sta--"
    "He's not crazy," the boy assured the travelers.
    "He isn't?"
    The boy groaned as he stood up and faced the man on the roof. "Old man!"
    "Hmm?" The man on the roof stared into the boy's red eyes and gasped. "You!"
    "What is he talking about?" a boy clown now whispered to the ring leader.
    "You are part reptilian, aren't you?!"
    Everyone directed their eyesights on the boy, who was still staring up at the old man. The cold air of the sky mixed with his hot breath, creating cloud after cloud of steam.
    The boy then nodded and said: "What if I am?"
    "Then leave!" the old man hollered. "Leave and never come back!"
    "Wait!" the clown girl cried. "He saved us and--"
    "Fine," the boy shrugged. "I could care less about this stinking town, anyhow." He then leapted from the wagon's top and landed onto roof with old man. "How 'bout you tell me where I can find a decent inn, then?"
    The old man was gasping rapidly as he scurried off the rooftop and nearly landed on his head screaming, "Monster! Monster!" from the top of his lungs. The circus folk then looked up at the boy, who just snorted and came back to the group.
    "Friend?" the ring leader asked as he stepped down from his driver's seat. "I don't know what that old man has been drinking, but you're a friend among us folk, hear?"
    The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever you say, you old fat man."
    The ring leader laughed as his large belly jiggled and embraced the boy. "I like you, kid! You got guts!"
    "Whatever, just let go, will ya...?"
    The man did as he was asked and watched as the boy leapt onto his wagon top. "By the way!" he called out. "I know we've only met this morning, but what is your name?"
    The boy reached under his thermal to scratch his chest and let out a loud yawn. He then looked down at the patient, rotund man and said, with little emotion: "It's Vol--Vol Flagg Dragosani. But you can refer to me as the 'Dragon Knight of Magic.'"
    "Oh?" The man then smiled as he got back into his driver seat and said: "My name's Rajin--but I already told you that, right?" He laughed a loud laugh as he slapped his leg and commanded his two horses to continue their destination. "Oh, I nearly forgot: why did that old man fear you, Vol?"
    "Like I care?" Vol snorted. "Everyone doesn't like someone like my kind."
    "Your kind?" the clown girl asked.
    "I'm...difficult."
    Rajin chuckled. "Ah!--now I see!"
    "See what?" the zookeeper man asked as he walked closer to Rajin.
    "He's a mixer of the three races that everyone considers the strongest: Human, Magician, and Dragon."
    "Is that even possible?" the clown boy asked.
    "It very much is, my young companion. Take the steering."
    "Aye!"
    As the clown boy climbed onto the driver's seat, Rajin struggled to climb on top of the wagon with his large self (so much so that he had to get three people to push his big behind) and sat next to Vol, who was still staring into the sky. He then asked, with a quiet tone and a small smile:
    "How are you doing, lad?"
    Without looking over to his host, Vol said: "Does it matter?"
    The large man shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe."
    "I'm used to it, just so you know."
    Rajin frowned now. "Are you now?"
    "Do I...interest you?"
    "How so?"
    "You want me to join your little crew, right?"
    "Maybe," Rajin shrugged.
    "You paying?"
    "Sure I can, lad!" He laughed as he rolled to his side and slapped his belly. "I may not look it, but I am one the richest men that Dystopia's ever laid their eyes on."
    "I suppose so."
    Rajin stared into the young man's eyes to see that behind their shining gaze there laid a dark past. One that was so dark that it nearly made him fear the boy. But he also saw that he had a good heart. One that could be shown only when fighting for justice--just as he did that early afternoon.
    He then asked: "How old are you, Vol F.D.?"
    Vol slid his eyes at his interested fan, then back up at the sky and said: "Fifteen."
    "Fifteen?!" Rajin echoed. "Why...that's surely not the right age for you to be fighting like you did this morning!"
    "I just can," the boy shrugged.
    "But your techniques were that of ancient masters--who are in their mid-fifties!"
    "I just can," Vol repeated.
    "Huh...You don't say?" Rajin lied on his back with his arms stretched to his sides and smiled up at the sky. "It's a new moon, lad."
    Vol said nothing, he just simply nodded.
    "Your sword is so out there, Vol."
    Again, Vol just simply nodded.
    "Have you ever been thanked like we did?"
    Vol slid his eyes at the man to see that he was still smiling at the sky and asked, in an almost yawning tone: "Why didn't you cry?"
    Rajin raised his eyebrows and looked at the confused boy's face and said: "Cry?"
    "Yes--cry. Most people cry when I come--you saw the old man earlier."
    "Oh..." The large man sat up and watched as the boy did the same. "You never met a woman for you, have you?"
    "What does that have to do with--?"
    "My wife once told me that a person who hates someone is one that is hated themselves. She also said that one that cares for someone is one that is cared for themselves. I care about people because I am cared for, Vol. Not to say in a selfish way, but I love it when others thank me for my accomplishments and I for theirs."
    "Huh..."
    Rajin smiled and reached down for Vol's shoulders. "You did a great thing, Vol. You should be proud that others are saved thanks to your heroics."
    "Mr. Rajin!" the clown boy called. "I see the next town, Killer Watts!"
    "Take us in, then!"
    "Alrighty then!"
    Rajin sighed and turned to Vol. "Well, Vol?"
    Vol looked up at the large man and raised an eyebrow. "Well what?"
    "Did I answer your question of why I didn't cry?"
    "I guess so."
    "Hmm..."
    They both turned to see the next town's lights shining over the horizon. While Rajin was smiling with his golden-white hair blowing with the wind, Vol had thought, with a frown on his face:
    Love? Who needs love? Why should anyone even care for someone such as I? All my life I've been spat on, beaten down, and stomped on just for my blood. Vol then looked over to the large man's smiling face and scowled back at the upcoming town. This man...What does he even know about pain? What does he know about true upsetting? He's no better than the rest of the scum of this world. How...would he know what's it like to be Vol Flagg Dragosani...?