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“Voltra…My sweet Voltra… Do you understand why out of everyone that’s trapped in here, you’re the only one alive?”
The stink of rotten flesh and dirty water that leaked from the mushy corpse fluttered his overgrown bangs and hacked his nostrils, a smell that he had grown too familiar with. Beside him were other narrow yet tall cages, locking him and the other young boys, with whom he had chances to make acquaintances, even calling them his brothers at some point. All of them were brilliant, always managing to light a smile on his somber face, even when they were all trapped and abused.
The last one, Krystal, died sometime ago. There were none of those talks they used to have whenever everyone was sleeping; there was not even an exhale of the other boy's gentle yet upbeat voice, nor was there even a thump when the other boy ceased to exist. Voltra only found out after he smelled a new scent of rot, days after he screamed Krystal’s name over and over again, wishing to hear a reply.
The woman, Kirana, has been visiting him a lot ever since he noticed Krystal’s death. She said the presence of his brothers made her nervous when she tried to come in, so she just waited until all of them died, and only him left. She said Voltra should be grateful that she’s the one asking Retakka not to dry up his powers, or else he would be the first one to die, rather than Gamma.
“Not because of my requests, nor your will to live is stronger. But it’s because you have a sense of responsibility. Unlike these irresponsible children, you understand the harsh truth of this country; that’s why you are still lingering to help us make this country a better place, isn’t it?”
No, Voltra does not care for any of that. He’s still alive because of this woman's favouritism for him. He’s still hearing, listening to her nonsense with a sweet trilling voice, because he doesn’t know what to do with his life. They have stripped his freedom of choice for his life ever since Voltra got kidnapped as a toddler, beaten, and tortured until they found the so-called Elemental Power inside his lungs, then proceeded to force him and all the other boys to go through a machine every week for ‘harvesting’.
He’s alive, just because.
“Now, I’m just wondering why Retakka is still insisting on keeping a treasure like you in here. The stench is unbearable; it couldn’t be good for your development.”
“He said it’s to remind this boy of the consequences if he ever dares to act up. I don’t understand what that guy is worried about; if he would spare a second to look in this tent, he wouldn’t be so paranoid about this ragdoll here.” A blue-haired man spoke as he lifted the drape fabric that acted as a door to the side, standing tall as he looked at Voltra. “This ragdoll looks as if he doesn’t want to live anymore.”
“Kaizo! Could you refrain from insulting Voltra whenever you come in?”
“You know I like to speak my mind, Kirana.” The blue-haired man huffed as if the red-haired woman said something endearing.
“Ugh, I will deal with you later. Voltra, don’t listen to anything Kaizo just said, okay? You’re so full of life, you’re so strong. We will bring prosperity to this shameful land, with Retakka as our ruler; so hang on a little longer, okay?”
Always saying the same stuff: “prosperity”, “country”, “Retakka”... Voltra could have carved every nook of this shabby tent with how much she kept repeating those words.
In a daze, Voltra nodded his head. This brings a satisfied smile to the petite, beautiful face of the woman.
With his brothers all gone, with his jaw too weak to bite his tongue off, with cuffs of heavy chains too big for his fragile bones of wrists and ankles, with the stench of the dead being the only thing that can comfort him after ‘harvesting’; if they say they need Voltra, then he will listen to them. He doesn’t know anymore.
“Commander Kirana! Commander Kaizo! We are under attack!” shouted a woman in plain clothes and basic armory as she stormed into the tent.
“What?! How did they find this base–”
“I have no idea, sir! But we need you–”
Words barely left through the other woman’s throat as her head detached from her neck, her lips quivered to the shape of words that were already planned in her head. The other woman’s body was like a stone as it fell, yet fluid as if there was still warmth running through its veins.
The sharp hiss of the blade ran through the air to wipe off the excess blood stuck on it. That blade also took the shabby excuse of the door to shreds, revealing a blond man.
“Long time no see, Kaizo.”
“Ramenman…” The blue-haired man gritted teeth can be heard echoing all around the big tent.
“Ever since the death of your brother, you have changed too much, Kaizo. Even willing to hear the witching words of that woman over there.”
“Don’t you bring my brother’s into your fucking mouth! You’re the foolish one to not understand a speck of Kirana’s words.” A sharp zap to the air, and a sword had conjured inside the blue-haired man’s right palm.
The red-haired woman opens her mouth to say something, yet suddenly, she falls. With bright rings of light around her neck, she groans and screams in pain.
“Kirana– GUH?!”
The same thing on the red-haired woman also wraps around the blue-haired, bringing him fall face down to the hard earth, painfully.
Voltra can see foams of spit leak from both of their mouth corner, both convulse as if they were possessed.
“This tool!” Ramenman looks shocked, then resignation pools as his expression instead.
“Lord Boboiboy. Please stop your toys at this instant, we need to capture them alive!”
Light stomps of shoes rang on the ground as the bright light shut down on the fallen, then a young boy, out of nowhere, ran up front to check the bodies.
“Phew. They went into shock and went unconscious. Aw, honestly, Captain Ramenman. If you weren’t in my way, I could have shot somewhere else rather than their necks!”
A high, childlike voice exclaimed from the young boy, who appears to be frustrated with the blond man.
“Young lord, even if your father, the Commander, was quite lax with giving you freedom whenever we are subduing revolutionary branches, you should refrain from using your toys like that, or you could have gotten into trouble–”
“Blah blah! You guys are always nagging me. I want to prove myself too!”
The warm brown, doe eyes snag its attention away from the grown man and look at Voltra. Those eye scans, everything on Voltra’s body, to around the tents and glances at those tall cages beside Voltra.
His youthful face suddenly twisted, his mouth pursed downwards, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Yet he wouldn’t glance away from the mushy rots on the floor beside Voltra. The young boy then went back to look at him. His eyes, still glossy, stare at Voltra.
“Hi there!” The boy smiles, his rows of uneven baby teeth appear clunky, different from the woman's perfect rows of teeth, yet it's a smile that made Voltra’s heart clench.
“My name is Boboiboy. What’s your name?”
His breath hitched, his chest inflated with oxygen that entered, yet he couldn’t properly spell out what he planned to say. His mouth flutters uselessly, trying hard to find a satisfying angle or certain shape of mouth so he could start speaking.
Yet, the boy rang his laugh while watching, it sounded like fairies chuckling. It trickles even more warmth into Voltra’s heart, for an unknown reason.
“Hehe. It’s okay. We can practice once we go home. Let’s get you–”
“Fwo– Voltra.”
Many clumsy attempts to pull his chest together for a proper vowel, but he wants to hear Boboiboy call his name, mark him.
Another gentle chuckle aimed at Voltra, as if the fairies themselves are caressing his ears.
“Voltra! Voltra… I like it.” The young boy sheepishly scratches his cheek, yet his mouth still swirls Voltra’s name on his tongue.
“Let’s go home, Voltra.”
If there’s anything Voltra can remember about those times with his brothers, it was their warm hands that he managed to reach for holding during gloomy nights, although they were all restricted by the cold, steel bars of the cage.
Boboiboy’s hand sneaks through those suffocating bars to reach for his skinny, ugly hand and hold it in his palm. The warmth it transmitted to him, Voltra was reminded of his brothers.
“Don’t you want to settle down and start a family one day, Voltra?” asked his lord, Boboiboy, who was absentmindedly looking through the bay window.
“Excuse me?”
“Like I said, don’t you want to settle down and just rest?” Boboiboy turned around to look at Voltra, pinned him under those warm browns.
“I-I have no desire for such. Working for this family, for you, has been a great opportunity in my life. I wouldn’t dare to wish for anything better than right now.”
Voltra retorted, yet his stomach sank. His chest feels like it would constrict his airway. Why would his lord ask him something like that right now?
“Because you work too much, Voltra. You barely left yourself any time to think about mundane life, except for eating and sleeping. That’s why I have made a decision.”
Those brilliant browns did not hesitate to stare into the depths of the other’s crimson eyes.
Still so bright, so energetic, so full of compassion and kindness, never once faded, even after the battle that took Lord Amato’s life.
To lock their gazes together like this always made Voltra weak in the knees; his heart would always throb annoyingly. Yet, right now, he feels nothing but the cold sweat that has seeped into his collar shirt.
“Voltra. Retired as my advisor, and go out there to enjoy your life!”
“...What?”
His throat closed tight, refusing to either swallow or even to bring oxygen to his lungs.
“You see, it’s been 3 years since that war with Retakka. Our kingdom is at peace now, so I doubt the royal family would need our family to train the people and prepare for any upcoming war. We deserved rest after all those years. So I figured, the only way for you to take rest is to retire.”
Boboiboy talks about a peaceful future inside his head. He talks while thinking about his fallen comrades and the affected civilians.
“What a workaholic you are, Voltra. You don’t have to force yourself to stick with me for the rest of your life, you know? Be free, haha.”
No.
Voltra kneels, his head slams onto the soft rug inside Boboiboy’s workroom.
“Why? Why, why? Why don’t you want to use me anymore?”
The sight of Voltra kneeling wasn’t unfamiliar to him, but there was desperation in his advisor’s actions.
“Use? You mean, those times I made you sort through our civilians' documents for me? I’m sorry if you hate doing that, there’s just too much for me to handle and I was busy with–”
“Have—have I gone useless? An eyesore in the lord’s eyes? I—I can prove myself. Please, wait for me.”
Immediately, with blunt nails and straight fingers, Voltrad jabbed into his left chest. Didn’t get through, one more time.
He stabs harder. The tip of his fingers feels strings of muscle tendons rip between his nails.
“Voltra?! Stop. Stop! What are you–”
Using power and letting it gather on the fingers that’re touching his ribs, something that's as easy as breathing, Voltra let the shocking waves of lightning break and burn his ribs away.
His brain screams when it feels one of its body parts missing, his vision is borderline blind and hazy, and his teeth chattering so much that his gums bleed.
Got it.
Voltra rips it out, the still beating and alive heart, wrapped in broken veins.
“P-Please eat this, it will grant you everything you want. M-May it be health, vitality, stamina, lifespan… Everything, even my power.”
He feels blessed to one day be able to give himself to his lord like this.
Boboiboy knows the extent of his power, yet he refuses to indulge in it. A magnificent, benevolent person. To serve and belong to such a person, Voltra can never ask for more.
Even if it means he will cease to exist.
With a bloodied smile, Voltra raises his head to look, expecting Boboiboy to look proud at him.
Boboiboy looked sickened.
“My…lord?”
“What are you doing, Voltra?”
“I…” The crouching man looks at Boboiboy with anxious pupils; his body shakes. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry. Please, please don’t be angry. I–”
Voltra honestly has no idea what had set Boboiboy’s mood off. He remembers doing this every ‘harvest’, and everyone would be happy with that.
He had always seen Boboiboy direct his anger towards their enemies, and he was always glad that it was never him who was denied the warm gaze of the sun. Now, it is him. He is in the enemy’s shoes.
His heart beat erratically on his hand, even if it’s no longer connected to his body. Voltra feels wetness gather on his lower lashes.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being an eyesore, I’m sorry for being useless. Please, my lord, please don’t throw me away…”
The young lord gasped as he heard the plea, coming from his most trusted advisor and closest friend.
“Throw? No, Voltra, you’re getting it all wrong. I’m not throwing you away.”
Boboiboy kneeled with one knee touching the rug, just right in front of Voltra. Then he brings his palms together to close around the bloody heart on Voltra’s right hand.
The crouching man let out a shuddering breath, “If you’re not throwing me away, then why did you tell me to retire and go away? My presence must have been a nuisance–”
“No! Jeez, listen to me, Voltra. I just want you to enjoy this era we’ve created together, this era of peace. I want you to do what you wish to do, to try out things you've been curious about. I care about you that much, and I hope you can enjoy it too.”
Boboiboy tried to gaze into those devouring crimson eyes, but his palms caught the vibrating drum of the living heart, and blood oozed and slipped through his fingers. The young lord might have accumulated a lot of self-restrained skill to not physically cringe at this sensation.
“But…” Voltra brings his right hand up, pulling his lord's hands to his face, as he nuzzles on Boboiboy’s bare fingers and back of the hand.
“I can’t live without you. I need to be near you, my lord. I need you.”
Ba-dump.
As if he just got shot. Rather than pain, he felt a dull ache. Looking at Voltra begging for him like this, it feels weird.
It’s unnatural, it feels forbidden, friends should never look at each other like this, a master-servant relationship shouldn’t feel like this either.
But.
Boboiboy wouldn’t mind seeing the wriggling bile of ‘need’ lurking behind those crimson eyes, overlapping like an obsession. And those eyes would only look in his way.
Cold shivers run through Boboiboy’s skin; he’s not sure what he’s supposed to feel when he finally understands why Voltra always lingered his gaze on him.
“I won’t ask you anything like that ever again, alright? Now, let’s do something about your, uhh, heart.”