Homecoming in the Rain
"Big Brother, the road's flooded out—the water's swallowed the bridge."
Bar and Amon had drifted over at some point, and like Death, they looked perfectly at ease despite the foul weather. Amazed as ever by their brothers' obliviousness to the elements, Amon tilted his head and observed the crowd with his usual gentle concern.
"Ah, so that's why all these humans are packed together. What an inconvenience for them."
Even in these wretched conditions, Amon's razor-sharp senses were hard at work. Raindrops clung in a dense film to his square lenses as he studied the stranded travelers through closed eyes.
"Is this the only road through here?" Death asked.
"There's a detour, but I heard it takes about three hours," Ian answered. He had been surveying the area around the bridge and had just returned to the group.
"Three hours on a dry day? In this rain, it'd take even longer."
Death seemed to mull something over, then abruptly summoned his younger brothers.
"Bar. Amon."
"Yes, Boss."
"You two are going in."
"...Pardon? In where?"
"Where do you think? Down there."
He was pointing beneath the bridge—hidden beneath the swollen, murky water that no one could see into now. His tone was as calm as if he were asking them to fetch groceries.
"Ah—you mean clear out whatever's clogging it?"
"That ought to open the road back up."
"Yep! Understood!"
"Hold it right there!"
Bayul, who had been listening to the brothers' exchange in a daze, jolted upright and shouted them to a halt.
"If you go in now, it's dangerous! The current's so strong it'll sweep you away!"
That wasn't all. Clearing out whatever was lodged under there would take staggering physical strength, and the idea of those two managing it was absurd. Bar was missing an arm, and Amon couldn't see at all. It was a testament to how seamlessly they managed daily life that Bayul kept forgetting those facts—but forgetting them or not, he could hardly send them marching into mortal peril.
"I admire the enthusiasm, but don't go throwing yourselves around! What do you suppose happens if something goes wrong?!"
Ian, equally incredulous, bellowed at Bar and Amon to stop.
"Huh? Is that dangerous, around here?"
"...Apparently so, it seems."
"What do we do now, Boss?"
Bar was scratching the back of his neck with his one good arm, looking sheepishly stumped—
WhoooOOOOSH!
—when Tempesta, his temper flaring from his running battle with Innocent, unleashed a gust even fiercer than before, venting his fury into the wind itself.
―Who are you calling a pest, you water-logged little gremlin?!
―You ARE the pest, obviously! Who dug up ancient history just to torment Bayul, hmm?! And besides, have you ever seen a water spirit as pretty as me, you timid little windbag?!
CRASH!
At Innocent's retort, the river surged with fresh violence, until the water crested the banks and lapped at the ankles of everyone nearby.
"Daddyyy!"
The shock of it sent a little girl of about five stumbling, her small hand slipping free of her parents'. A child that slight was little more than a scrap of paper in the wind—and with a scream, she was lifted clean off the ground.
"Ian! The girl—!"
Bayul was still shouting for Ian to save her. Ian, for his part, was already springing into motion.
But someone was faster. Death.
"Got her."
Death, who had been standing beside Bayul a heartbeat before, was suddenly there, plucking the soaring child out of the air.
He'd moved too fast for anyone's eyes to follow. To all appearances, one blink and the girl was cradled safely in Death's arms.
"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!"
The girl's father rushed over, snatched up his daughter, and bowed to Death over and over. Without him, disaster would have struck. Not just the father—everyone around them let out a collective breath of relief.
Heh. I'll be collecting payment for this one from Agos.
A brief smile flickered across Death's lips as he turned away, but the howling wind and rain spared no witness to it.
Shame! Sorry, but I'm going to need your help again today!
Seeing the girl to safety snapped Bayul back to his senses. Delaying any longer here risked an even bigger catastrophe. The original plan had been for Innocent to weaken the current, then slip under the water with everyone else to clear out the blockage—Shame would quietly assist the group, and Tempesta would whip up wind to block the onlookers' view.
In other words, the idea was to let everyone naturally believe they'd solved the crisis together through sheer teamwork.
But instead of executing that plan—before Bayul could even explain it to the spirits—Innocent and Tempesta had picked a fight, and everything had come unraveled. Thanks to their "spectacular collaboration," the storm was raging harder than ever, which at least meant no one was paying attention to anything else. Ironically, one way or another, his goal had been accomplished.
―Don't let it trouble you too much...
Shame offered the words to console Bayul, whose feelings had been bruised by the two quarreling spirits, and then moved.
KRA-BOOOM!
From upstream, a massive boulder came barreling down the river and slammed into the base of the bridge with a deafening crack.
CRUNCH!
The impact snapped the timber that anchored the entire jam, the splintering echoing far and wide.
After that, it happened in a flash. The boulder shouldered the broken log aside and swept clean under the bridge, tearing open a gap—and through that gap, the remaining mound of debris and the river's water alike came rushing through at full force.
"Wh-whooa!"
It was a miracle no one had foreseen. The moment the sunken bridge reemerged, the crowd erupted in cheers even amid the storm. Some had resigned themselves to being stranded—now they could move again. A few dropped to their knees and bowed, declaring that heaven itself had come to their aid.
"Oh! The wind's dying down too!"
"The rain's easing up, isn't it?"
Right on cue, the wind and rain began to slacken. Of course, it had merely returned to the state it had been in before Innocent and Tempesta's brawl began—the rain was still coming down in earnest sheets.
Shame, thank you so much, truly... Huh? What is this?
Bayul had just finished expressing his gratitude to Shame when a strange disquiet made him study Innocent and Tempesta. They were still slinging insults and bickering as before, but somehow both of them looked utterly spent. It was reminiscent of the time Innocent had made it rain at the ranch and collapsed from exhaustion.
Did they wear themselves out too far just fighting each other?
They had been cursing each other out while whipping up ferocious winds and rain, so it made a certain sense.
...Shame?
But then—why? Suddenly Shame seemed off as well. Bayul could feel it plainly: his energy had faded, distinctly and noticeably. Yes, he'd just pulled off something tremendous, but he shouldn't have been drained this badly. This was the same Shame who had stopped Tempesta's rampage at the kite-flying tournament without so much as a stagger.
The spirits who had been overflowing with vigor in Carrington were suddenly weak—and Bayul simply couldn't understand why.
"Young Master! Young Master Bayul!"
It was Joana the housekeeper who roused him from his brooding. Holding her ruined umbrella in one hand, she was urging him along.
"You must get into the carriage at once, before your body grows any colder! If you fall seriously ill tonight, I'll never be able to face the Lord of the house!"
"Young Master, come quickly!"
Rita's voice reached him too, calling from where she leaned out of the carriage window. By now, Death and his brothers had already made their way back to their own carriage.
"...Right. Let's go."
Figuring out the cause was important—but obeying Joana came first.
What could it be?
Bayul hid his worry and hurried up into the carriage.
"Arf! Arf-arf! Arf-arf-arf!"
The moment Bayul set foot inside the main keep, Jasper came bounding toward him. The dog had known his master was coming and had lain flat in front of the main hall's entrance since morning, not budging an inch, eyes fixed on nothing but that door.
It was a reunion months in the making, but neither Bayul nor Jasper had spared the other a single absent thought in all that time. As Jasper flung himself at him, Bayul swept him up and went tumbling across the marble floor.
"Yes, yes! I missed you too!"
Jasper licked every inch of Bayul's face he could reach, so overcome with excitement that he was half-crying, squirming and carrying on in sheer joy.
"Young Master Bayul, you mustn't lie on the cold floor while you're soaked through. Please, get up—"
Joana tried to intervene several times, but no one on earth could have stopped Jasper then. He had never been parted from Bayul since he was a pup, and for him, this moment was more moving than any that had come before.
"Tch. Jasper! Am I invisible to you?"
Rita had long since accepted that she ranked second in Jasper's heart, but facing the reality of it still stung. At her wounded voice, Jasper's ears—finally beginning to settle—shot straight up.
"Arf-arf!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here! See me now?"
"Arf-arf-arf-arf!"
Jasper barked what sounded like a stream of excuses as he threw himself into Rita's arms, and her face, too, was soon smeared head to toe in dog slobber.
"Jasper, I'm wearing glasses! Quit licking!"
Despite her grumbling, Jasper paid her no mind—and for her part, Rita was only putting words to it. Her whole body radiated delight.
"So you've finally arrived, Young Master Bayul."
While Bayul and Rita reveled in their reunion with Jasper, Cunning the butler emerged along with every servant and maid of the keep, lining up to pay their respects.
Bayul had never once left the main keep in his life until now, so this kind of formal welcome was entirely new to him. He had only ever watched it from the sidelines when his father returned from the imperial palace—experiencing it himself felt strange indeed.
"Butler Cunning. It's been a long time."
How sentimental he felt. It had only been a few months, and yet it felt as if he were returning after years away. There was nothing so precious as these brief stretches of time that a school holiday granted.
"Have you been well?"
"Busy as ever, as always. I must say, your face has brightened considerably, Young Master—a great relief to see."
As Bayul gazed around the hall, his eyes brimming with feeling, Butler Cunning studied him with an unreadable look.
Something about his presence has changed. Nothing about his appearance was different, but the air about him—the force he carried? The young man before him seemed far steadier, more composed, than he had ever been. Cunning had heard through the Duke that Bayul was settling in well at the academy, but this exceeded all expectation. For a moment, he nearly mistook him for the late Young Master Bail.
"Young Master, put this around yourself."
Rita took a fresh blanket from a maid and draped it over Bayul's shoulders. His condition was better than it had been crossing the bridge, but he was still soaked to the bone.
Blankets were passed to Ian and Death, and to Death's two brothers as well. The Razai-Ribai brothers offered only a brief greeting before heading indoors—or rather, not into the keep at all, but off toward somewhere else entirely. Bayul suspected he wouldn't see them again until they returned to Carrington.
"And those gentlemen would be...?"
Butler Cunning, naturally, did not let Death's brothers pass without scrutiny. His eyes narrowed sharply at the three ominous-looking figures.
"Ah, Butler Cunning! About who they are—"
Rita had barely opened her mouth to explain when Jasper suddenly began barking furiously. The main doors of the hall swung open, and the master of the keep himself—Duke Randert—stepped inside.
"My Lord. You've arrived."
As Butler Cunning greeted him with full formality, the assembled servants bowed even more rigidly than before. From their bearing, Bayul could feel the deep reverence they held for his father.
"Arf! Arf-arf!"
Jasper plopped his hindquarters down beside Bayul and grumbled happily at the Duke.
"That happy to see him, are you?"
A smile crept unbidden across Duke Randert's lips as he watched the dog.
Father...?
Faced with his father's smile for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Bayul froze. He couldn't even remember the last time his father had smiled in front of him. He half wanted to pinch his own cheek to check whether he was dreaming.
"Good work getting here. I hurried so we could sit down to dinner together—surely your old father isn't late?"
"...I only just arrived myself."
"Good. Let's warm ourselves with a hot meal, then. Welcome home, my son."
Duke Randert beamed brighter than Bayul had ever seen as he welcomed his boy home.