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On the day I was born into this world, I didn't cry. I didn't struggle in desperation. I was born calmly… I was born asleep.
My heartbeat was steady, following the peaceful rhythm of a baby sleeping without worry. Even my breathing was quiet.
Everything was calm… for a birth that was anything but normal.
My father and mother say to this day that I only woke up the day after I was born. But even then, I still hadn't cried, not even to be fed.
The look I had when I opened my eyes for the first time… it was calm, but also empty. The gaze of a baby lost, as if unable to find himself, even though he could move, feel, and touch the world around him.
How could a newborn have the look of someone lost in his own small world, surrounded by the bars of his own crib?
It was almost possible to say that this was a baby who had never truly been born.
The only crying that could be heard throughout the house was my mother's worry. The walls echoed her agony as she walked through her own home.
I probably never met death only because my father created a routine of checking on me every hour, making sure I was or wasn't hungry. My mother, on the other hand… she seemed afraid of me. She couldn't understand me. Why didn't I cry? Why had I been born sleeping so peacefully like that?
When I turned nine years old, my parents became far less worried about me as the years passed, since I could now speak. My father seemed to have learned, over time, how to deal with me. My mother, though… she didn't understand. Her anger mixed with concern and fear. She clearly didn't know whether something was wrong with me or not.
Richard? Where are you? Come here. -
My mother only ever raised her voice when calling me.
I'm already here, Mom. I've been here for about ten minutes… more or less. - Richard
What? …Then why didn't you say anything? -
You seemed to have seen me when I came over, so I waited until you told me what you needed. - Richard
"I didn't even feel his presence… and worse, he was right next to me and I still didn't notice him."
Listen, Richard… you need to stop acting like a damn ghost, understand? -
I understand, Mom. - Richard
Now go to your father. - she said, turning back to grab something in the kitchen.
And tell him… where did he go?... I… I can't understand that boy. -
Richard, you came. Took you long enough, kid. -
That man… my father… somehow always seemed able to notice me. No matter what, he always knew whether I was there or not, even with his back turned.
How do you do that? How do you always know where I am? - Richard
How wouldn't I know where my own son is? -
For a brief moment, that filled my heart with something warm… something I couldn't keep contained, something that reached my face.
At the time, I had no idea… but somehow, he used his Righteous Wrath to sense me.
Here, take this. - his father said, tossing him something wrapped in cloth.
What is it? - Richard asked, unwrapping it.
Inside were two bracers, worn down by time and clearly by heavy use.
These belonged to your grandfather. Then they were mine. Now I'm giving them to you. -
Thank you, Dad. - Richard said, even as the emptiness still reflected in his dark eyes while he put them on.
You're almost ten. You're halfway to becoming a man. From now on, think carefully about every decision you make… and how you'll use those bracers. -
Richard watched his father as he moved his arms, feeling the bracers shift on his thin forearms.
For now, I'll just teach you how they work. They're a bit worn, so the blades might not come out. -
After his father taught him the mechanisms, Richard trained a few punches with him.
Even though his father was an experienced fighter, it was still difficult to understand how Richard's strikes worked. It was as if he could hit the same spot twice with a single blow.
But once he figured it out, his father could easily dodge and block Richard's attacks, reading his movement speed constantly.
That's enough for today. -
Richard breathed heavily, his body sweating.
You've got talent, kid. You just need to get stronger and faster, and fights will come easy to you. -
Now let's head back. Your mother must be waiting. -
Also… we need to cut your hair. It's almost at your shoulders. -
Alright. - Richard said, pausing for a few seconds. - Can I dye it too?
Hmm… you can, but just a few strands. Otherwise your mother will go crazy on both of us if you dye it all. -
She wouldn't even notice… - Richard
Of course she would. When women want to notice something… or pick at something… they can be terrifying. -
Mom… terrifying? - Richard let out a faint laugh.
Look at that… you do know how to smile. You should show that to your mother. -
They kept talking as they walked back home.
And some time after Richard turned ten…
On a day like any other, his father was called for a mission by the Order. When Richard arrived home, his father was finishing putting on his tactical uniform, worn in appearance with its faded yellow tone.
His mother, talking to his father, didn't see him arrive… didn't feel his presence. Not even his father did, focused on getting dressed.
Please don't go… don't leave me alone. -
Relax, it's just a mission to guard a border post. And you know I can't refuse. -
Besides, don't exaggerate. You won't be alone. You'll have our son with you. -
The ghost son that only you can see because you're a soldier. -
Don't say that. He's our son, not a ghost. -
I hate that about him, you know? It's like he disappears… even when he's right in front of me. -
Don't say that. I've told you, he may not be perfect, but he's still a child… and full of talent and qualities. Spend more time with him and you'll see it. -
His father finished speaking as he stood up, helmet tucked under his arm after putting on his boots.
As he stepped from the bedroom into the living room, he saw his son leaning against the wall, clearly having heard everything.
He wasn't using his Righteous Wrath… so he hadn't sensed him.
The look of surprise crossed his father's face and vanished so quickly that Richard didn't even catch it.
Until I get back, take good care of your mother. You're already a man. Take care of the house, Richard. -
Richard couldn't say anything as his father walked toward the front door, putting on his helmet.
The last thing he saw was his father's back.
The last thing he heard was his father asking:
Where are we going this time?
To the border near Route 305. - Kirden soldier
That was the last time Richard saw his father.
As time passed, his mother stopped seeing him. Stopped speaking to him. It was as if he didn't exist anymore… now that the only one who could see him within those walls was gone.
As time went on, Richard wanted more and more to be like his father… while growing up alone.
When he joined Group Twelve, he didn't even know how to act, how to respond, or how to talk to anyone properly… because in the fog, he was always the one who wasn't seen.
And now, that same person was fighting for real in an arena… against a member of his own group.
He was fighting Neale.