Chapter 117
Happy Tangents
Leo was feeling rather absentminded as the two men found themselves quickly expelled from the underground and back into the cirque, standing by the Well as though they'd never gone in.
Were it not for that faintly fading window in front of his eyes, Leo might have even been compelled to believe they'd all made it up... but he knew it was true. And, apparently, Azariel did as well, and without the assistance of the window. The man was rather shaken, slumping to the ground fast and leaning against the Well's cool stone, head between his knees.
"Our sins could write a codex, couldn't they?" he asked as Leo shook his head, sighing inwardly and sitting down as well.
"Were they really your sins, though?"
"Who knew my mother was telling the truth, huh?" He chuckled bitterly. "Maybe... it would have been for the best had you done to me what you did to the rest. Either killed me or kicked me out of this place. I'd have a lifetime of loathing you to distract me from everything."
"While I'd never shy away from being someone's source of hatred," Leo said. "I'd like to believe that only a few things in life are capable of truly breaking us. Most others, even if they bend and stymie us, are temporary. This... as grand and as weighty as it may be, doesn't feel like something that can break a person. So, humanity has risen against their light, convinced it was darkness. We lived and learned, and that's that. It's not up to you or to me or any of the kids today to repent for what was done long before we were even a thought."
"... that's one way to look at it," Azariel chuckled and scoffed, both at once. "You don't get it, and that's fine. You probably think that just because I chose to follow you, I don't care for my life before today. But I do. Don't think for a second that, if I believed myself remotely capable, I wouldn't avenge those you killed. They were my family—cold and distant, yes, but family nonetheless. Just as were those who came before me, those who set in motion all of this. Just because you have no tree that hid you from the rain and can conceive a world in which you are free of all sins doesn't mean everyone else is the same way."
"Huh."
"What?"
"I didn't know you had it in you to disagree with anything," Leo shrugged, smiling faintly as he stood up and walked over to one of the steles. "There are ghosts in these woods, Az," he added, feeling the relatively cool stone against his fingers. "Ghosts so old there are no records of them. And they suffer, their pain a song that reaches me. And I have the ability to help them, to exorcise the agony burning from the depths of their souls. And, in turn for that, they offer me a glimpse of the world long gone. But understand something—for as many as I've helped, all I've ever felt was pain. Do you know what I didn't feel?"
"..."
"Anger," Leo glanced back. "It's presumptuous of me to make any claims, but I don't think humanity's betrayal is as soul-rotting as you make it out to be. Creatures betray each other all the time—a child betrays their parents, a husband his spouse, and the circle of pain weaves onwards. There has never been a time in the history of conscious thought that there weren't traitors roaming the lands. In many ways, good and bad, it's a natural cycle of existence. We betrayed them, and, one day, something or someone may betray us.
"I've had family once, too, you know?" Leo added, feeling his heart stir for a moment. "And, in a strange way, my life was an opposite mirror of yours. I've had their love—if not unconditional, then thereabout—but at first I felt it a burden, and later... I felt entirely undeserving of it. But even in my darkest days, when I was a rung at the bottom of a well, surrounded by rot and decay, I always had a place to call home. And people who were there, waiting for me. In my heart, that is a family. Not a forcible bond that chains you to all acts of your forefathers, not a prison that enlists you in the blood feuds that go on for generations, not some depraved fantasy that demands the world of you.
"In my heart, family is... a place, a place where flames stoke the warmth, where the walls form the quiet you need from the world, and a sanctuary that does its best to keep the demons at bay. Say, should I anger the whole world in the future and have it loathe me so much they kill me, do you think, even for a moment, I'd want Shui'er to grapple herself in any way with that? If, one day, you have a child of your own, do you want them to inherit your battles? You are no more responsible for a drought on the other side of the world than you are for things that happened even a generation ago, let alone thousands of years back. Recognize the act of it, for certain, and accept that it is a part of you, but disallow it from consuming you from within, like a parasite."
Azariel didn't speak—not in response to him, and not on their way back to the camp, and Leo didn't pester him. Ultimately, it didn't matter; he had his own beliefs, and the man had his own. There was never a right or wrong in these cases, merely person-appropriate beliefs. Perhaps, for some reason beyond Leo's understanding, Azariel needed that guilt and that burden. Perhaps they were the fuel that pushed him onward and gave him strength to live, whereas, otherwise, he may have succumbed to the voices.
People were all their own stories, and Leo knew that others only ever caught tiny glimpses of the whole. He'd known the man for a few days at most, and days compared to decades... well, they were nothing. Leo could profess his own beliefs as much as he wanted, but they were his own, forged through his own experiences that the rest of the world may not share.
Upon their return, Azariel excused himself and went into the longhouse; whether to calm or to plan a way to escape, Leo didn't know. Shui'er and Lu Yang returned a few hours later, likely having tended the garden, which was quickly confirmed as the young girl became a machine gun of stray information about plants.
"Wow, you memorized all of that?" Leo exclaimed as she finally finished, firmly planted on his lap, looking up at him.
"Yep!" she exclaimed, beaming.
"You're really clever! Isn't she clever, Yu Lang?"
"Oh, the most."
"I thought so." Evidently, their little praises were working wonders as the girl looked just about ready to burst from joy. "I could barely remember the names of four plants when I was her age. You?"
"Ah, I was scarcely better, only remembering five."
"You two are really mean!!" She caught on and jumped off his lap, her cheeks bulging. Leo had to combat a whole lot of self to not laugh.
"So, did you like gardening?" Leo quickly moved on, asking gently.
"... hm," she nodded, though... she was still a kid, ultimately. She lied as well as she could, which wasn't that well, not wanting to disappoint them.
"But I don't think we can make you a gardener, unfortunately," Leo said.
"Really?! I—I mean, why not?" Lu Yang spun in place and looked away, his shoulders dancing as Leo fought to not do the same.
"You see, that garden means a lot to the old Grandpa Yang. He takes care of it like it's his own kid. Every morning, every day, every night. I fear, if we took it from him, he might become sad."
"Oh no! Grandpa Yang, I promise I won't take the garden from you! Please don't be sad!" It was fun, playing with kids, Leo mused. He felt, however, that Shui'er was, perhaps, a bit too naive. She instinctively seemed to trust whatever they fed her, and while it was adorable, it was also incongruous with living outside this little camp. And yet, Leo didn't have the heart to break that part of her. He wished the world was kind and beautiful enough that the kids could not only be this way but also stay this way.
"Ah, thank you, Shui'er. You are so kind..." Lu Yang played along the best he could as the kid hugged his leg and held it tightly. The two men exchanged looks for a moment as Shui'er freed herself, appearing rather happy that she wouldn't have to become a gardener.
"Is there anything you want to do, Shui'er?" Leo asked. While it was fine to simply let her run amok for now and do whatever she wanted, long-term, it wasn't exactly a feasible solution to child-rearing. As inept as Leo was, he knew that he'd at least have to provide her a basic level of education, but he didn't exactly know what kids learned at schools here. Did they still learn arithmetic? Poetry? Geometry? Geography? Or were they all wholly smitten with the idea of becoming cultivators, and their entire education revolved around that?
"I... I don't know," the girl admitted, grabbing her dress with her fists and looking down at the ground. "I'm sorry..."
"... How about this?" Leo said. "Every morning, after breakfast, I will teach you for a couple of hours. Nothing specific, just bits and pieces of things until we find something that you want to do."
"Really? Every... every morning?" She looked up (just barely enough to meet his gaze, however), seeming silently excited. Not at the prospect of learning things, it seemed, but at the prospect of spending time with him.
"Every morning," Leo nodded.
"... okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
"Grandpa Yang, you're always welcome to join us," Leo tossed it out to tease the old man.
"Hm, it sounds interesting." Leo's eyebrows twitched as he looked over at him, but it didn't seem like he was joking. For whatever reason, his interest seemed genuine. "What?"
"Nothing. It might not be that interesting for you, you know?"
"Oh, I feel the exact opposite," Lu Yang laughed rather sweetly. "I've never received formal education, you see. Well, outside of the bare necessities—I was mostly just told to grow stronger, as strength trumped all else. I had to learn most of the governing later on in my life, though my father did teach me a few things in his spare time, at least. So, whilst I may not be illiterate, I always wished I had the education of my peers. It was a point of insecurity for me for a little while."
"And you think that you'll get that desired education from me?"
"Why not?"
"Huh. Alright."
"Great."
"So, Grandpa Yang will be with us, as well?" Shui'er asked, deciphering their conversation.
"Yeah, you don't mind, right?"
"Of course not! It's great!" she beamed. "He he, I'll finally go to school, too..." As she finished the sentence, her light demeanor changed, and her expression soured into one of sadness. She quickly covered it up with the best smile she could, excusing herself and running off. She still had never shared what happened to her, but the few times Leo passed by her room late at night, he'd hear the whimpering and the endless variations of 'please don't send me there.'.
What her life was like before... Leo wanted to be enlightened and make claims that it had helped her become who she was today, but, in reality, he wished he could rewrite those memories with the ones of joy.
It was that hypocrisy, he mused. Ever-present, silent and loud, the eternal pestilence of mankind.