Chapter 121
Fire of Guilt
Leo knocked gently on the doors and slowly opened them, walking in while holding two bowls of vegetable stew. Though he promised Shui'er that he would go hunting and prepare meat one for a change, considering the wrinkle of his two Disciples abruptly returning (and one being a breath away from death), the little girl understood, and even bravely accompanied him, latching onto his robes and peeking from behind him at the two strangers.
Liang was still comatose, almost an entire day into their return, and Yue was still a haggard mess, glued to his bedside. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes were red, and her cheeks and lips ballooned from all the crying. Even so, she hadn't left the room, or likely even the bedside itself, since they returned.
Leo walked over as she was yet to notice him--her eyes were glued to the young man lying on bed, her mind likely adrift elsewhere.
"Yue," he called out softly and startled her 'awake', prompting her to glance at him and force out a weak smile.
"G-greetings, Master," he voice was hoarse and patchy, as though she'd been at a concert last night and spent it whole screaming at the top of her lungs.
"Hey," Leo smiled gently, setting the bowls down. "How are you doing?"
"Uh, good, yeah. Great. A bit tired."
"Then you should rest."
"No. I'm okay here."
"... don't make me make it an order."
"..." Yue pursed her lips and glanced at him with a flash of anger, but relented. "Fine."
"He's going to be fine," Leo added. "I promise."
"Hm."
Yue shuffled and stood up, glancing over at Shui'er who quickly hid. She tried her best to smile, but her cheeks barely creased and she simply left, dragging her feet. Leo sighed and glanced over at the young man; he was looking much better, though that wasn't exactly a feat considering just how bad he looked initially. His cheeks were rosy, and his pulse was strong, and even his cultivation had recovered. Per all signs, he should have woken up... but hadn't. Though Leo worried, he didn't let it show on his face.
Instead, he gently sat the boy up and force-fed a spoonful or two of the stew, helping him digesting it through Qi the best he could.
"Will... will he be okay?" Shui'er asked as she climbed on top of the bed.
"Yeah," Leo said. "He will. He's my Disciple, after all."
"... am I your Disciple, too?" Shui'er asked with a trembling voice. Leo glanced over at her, conflicted; was she a Disciple? No. She was a kid, after all, and Leo had less than zero desire to set her onto this road, the kind of road where even someone as strong as Liang ended up in such a sorry state. And yet, he knew well enough that the girl's curiosity would drive her into resentment toward him should he reject her pleas.
"You're too young," he said. "Perhaps a bit later, if you still want to. But... do you? Want to?" he asked. "Cultivation is a dangerous, dangerous thing, Shui'er. Look at your Brother Liang," Leo said, gently picking up the girl into his arms as she hung her legs over his arm, twining her arms around his neck. "He is not weak. Rather, he is extraordinarily strong and talented. And yet, even with all that, he still got really, really hurt. And just recently, a man even stronger than Liang--one of the strongest men around, in fact--came about this place, a breath away from death.
"I will teach you the basics regardless, and I will help you however much you want, but you need to decide for yourself whether you want to tangle up with the world."
"What about you?" she queried.
"What about me?"
"Do you... tagngle?" she struggled to pronounce the word.
"No, no I don't."
"Then I'm going to be like you!" she broke out into a grin, squeezing his neck with her arms and pressing her head into his. "I'm going to be super strong, but I won't tagle!"
"Tangle."
"I won't tangle!"
"Alright, then." Leo chuckled faintly as he carried the girl out and left the longhouse.
Out of sight and out of mind, as it went, since Shui'er immediately seemed to have forgotten about everything and began chasing after Gray, disappearing somewhere between the trees. At first, Leo was a bit anxious any time she'd leave the immediate surroundings, but considering that animals seemed to love her and were escorting her every which way just like they used to escort him at first, there was little else to worry about besides perhaps a few scrapped knees and elbows (which she endured like a tiny little champion... for the most part).
"How's the kid?" Lu Yang asked as the two men settled down, the bottle of putrid alcohol awaiting. Leo still hadn't gotten used to it, and it didn't grow on him at all, but as there was no alternative, he still drank it regardless.
"He'll live, hopefully," Leo said.
"Hm," the old man grunted. "He's at Spirit Creation Realm. That should have been more than enough to handle most things in the Cradle, especially if they stayed around Brooch."
"So, either something awful happened," Leo said. "Or they didn't stay around Brooch." as for what Brooch was, or why it was called that, Leo did not know.
"Likely the latter," Lu Yang said. "Hotheaded, young, and talented—you cannot find a single worse combination of traits for bad decision-making."
"Speaking from experience?" Leo grinned.
"So much of it, yes. You?"
"Oh, the stories are endless," Leo recalled the teenage as well as young adult years, and though there was no magic or cultivation or death and such back on Earth, he had another really bad trait that should never be combined with the other three—disposable income... lots of it. Well, it wasn't income so much as it was allowance. There were nights where he'd drop five or six grand like it was nothing and not even remember how he spent them. Likely on buying eighty bottles of tequila, he mused.
And stories, indeed, were endless—in his case, literally. Every once in a while, he'd make his way to one or another gossip magazine or blog, dubbed the brainless scion wasting away his family's hard-earned wealth. There was nothing quite like being a young person with no impulse control and access to infinite money.
Ultimately, though, that lifestyle destroyed him. By his thirties, he was struggling with weight, he was having memory lapses even when he wasn't drinking, and he'd practically learned to live with headaches as nothing seemed to make them go away.
The two worlds, for however different they were, still shared those core similarities. The young overreach, in want of stars, while the old recede into safety and security, averse to risks. Though he didn't know what happened to Liang, it was likely what Lu Yang theorized—they reached well beyond their means, perhaps relying on the fact that they had the feather and the scroll with them, utilizing either both or just one of them a bit too late.
He didn't want to pester Yue, and he wasn't in a hurry for answers. The only thing that mattered was that Liang recovered.
"And yet, you can't tell them not to do it," Lu Yang said. "It's part of becoming."
"Hm," Leo chuckled. "Just how many times have I ignored my mother's advice, thinking I knew better than her, only to learn the very lesson she was giving me through a whole lot of pain later? But, as you said, it's part of becoming."
The two men laughed for a moment, finishing their drinks. Lu Yang departed right after, tending the garden further and (likely) strolling the woods since Milky 'mentioned' a few times that he'd seen the old man just wander about gracefully, taking in the sights. Leo, on the other hand, stayed, too distracted to meditate or cultivate, glancing often at the longhouse and the two windows perched directly above him where Liang and Yue were.
Two hours would pass before Yue emerged from the building; if she slept, it was in spurts and not for long, but chances were that she simply tossed about on the bed for a couple of hours before growing bored and tired, leaving. She plopped down opposite him and took out a gourd from her spatial ring, taking a swig.
"I forgot to greet you," she said. "Forgive me."
"Yes, the greatest priority," Leo said with a smile, and she smiled too, ever so slightly. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yes," she nodded. "Liang... took it all by himself. And... and it's my fault. Gods, I'm pathetic. So, so, so pathetic it's... Master, please... is, is there any way to make me stronger immediately? I'll do anything—it doesn't matter what. Please, I beg!" She was just about to get down on her knees before Leo stepped in and prevented her, sighing. She bit her lip until it bled, her eyes resolutely staring at him. "I'm his Senior Sister!" she exclaimed. "And—and all I did was stand there like a blind goat, unmoving!"
Leo crouched, still holding her arm, and patted her gently.
"Guilt... is like a fire, Yue," he said as she looked up from the ground and faced him again. "An eternal one, to boot. It hurts, and it takes no prisoners. It purges through you like a bolt, searing every which surface it touches. And, in the moment, it feels impossible to expunge—it feels like it will become you. Not just a part, not just one side of the whole, no—you, the whole you. I know, trust me. And no matter how grand a speech I make, no matter what I say, no matter how much comfort I offer... it will continue to burn through you. It will sear into you, and you will feel it rip through you. And you will replay those moments over and over again, looking for any one tiny thing you could have done differently. And you will curse yourself, and hate yourself, and loathe yourself for not doing them. You will cry, you will scream, you will hate... and then, it will get a bit better.
"You will sleep a bit longer. You will eat a bit better. You'll find that you don't think about it as much. And it will suddenly come back—guilt on top of guilt. Yue, there is no escaping being human. I don't know what happened, and I don't know how it happened, but I know beyond the shadow of a doubt in my heart of hearts that Liang would step in front of you every single time. Replay that moment a thousand, a million, a billion times, and he would always choose to step forward. Not because he thinks you are incapable, not because he thinks you are weak, not because he's a Junior Brother... but because he cares for you that much. And you know what? So do I. Just as he, I would have stepped forward, just as I know... you would for us, too."
"But I didn't! I—I could have, I--"
"--People unwilling to sacrifice themselves," Leo said. "Do not bury themselves in guilt, Yue. But, even if you do not want to, there is no fault in that."
"How is there no fault?!" she screamed, her expression distorted and distraught. The look in her eyes was wild, tears streaking down her face.
"Because nobody here would fault you," Leo smiled as gently as he could. "Not Liang, and certainly not me. He will be okay. And when he's up and about, if he even bothers to think about it, he will tell you the same thing. It's okay," she wept as he pulled her in, hugging her as she let out a voice that tore through his heart. "It's all okay."
She screamed, and she cried, and Leo remained silent, holding her.
It was true—no matter what he said to her, and no matter how well he rationalized it, it would not have mattered. Guilt sought no reason, nor did it respond to any; it was as real as it was imagined, impervious to all weapons sans the time itself. At least, that was how it was for him—he never recovered, not truly, but... he got better. Or, at least, he got better at dealing with it.
At some point she'd stopped, and Leo could hear muffled snores—she'd cried so hard she exhausted herself to sleep. Holding back a belly laugh, Leo gently picked her up and carried her to her room and set her down, pulling a blanket over her and leaving. For better or for worse, these kids looked up to him—and even if he didn't think himself 'mature' enough to step into that role, he had to.
On his way out, he ran into Azariel—in the midst of chaos, he forgot about him for a moment.
"Is everything alright?" the man asked.
"Yeah," Leo smiled, tossing his arm around the man's shoulder and dragging him out. "My Disciples returned. A bit roughed up, but they'll be fine."
"That's good, but why are you dragging me?"
"Because you would have hidden back into your room," Leo said. "And I need someone to drink with. Drinking alone makes you an alcoholic, but drinking in company... well, you're still an alcoholic, but you can cheat yourself into thinking you're just a social drinker. After all, if you're always in company and you're always drinking... anyway, we're not going to talk. We'll just drink."
"... just drink?"
"Just drink."
"I can do that."
"Good."