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The fist flew through the air and landed square on Maxwell Gotch’s jaw. Daisuke, who was the owner of said fist and the body that came with it, cursed under his breath. Maxwell spat excess saliva onto the deck of the Zephyr Mk II, rubbing his jaw.
“Good throw,” he said.
Both men stood on the half-empty deck of the Zephyr, which soared over the clouds of Zood, Maxwell oiled up and half-naked, toying with his The Max persona. Daisuke stayed in his usual garbs– layers of clothing that kept him warm, save for his hat which he'd placed next to a sleeping Ghost Dog.
“Hurts like hell,” Daisuke said, shaking out his hand, which was more used to handling guns than curling into fists.
“It tends to when you hit bone,” Maxwell explained, trailing the hard line of his jaw, “but a gentleman fister never lets that stop him.”
Daisuke rolled his eyes. He raised up his fists again. “Let me try blocking now.”
Maxwell nodded and braced himself. He cocked his fist back and swung at Daisuke. A smirk bloomed on the old man’s face, the skin around his mouth and eyes crinkling. With dance-like ease he dodged out of the way, leaving Max to punch air and stumble. Then, with an acrobat's precision, Daisuke lept onto Maxwell’s back and brought him down onto the ground.
He laughed victoriously as Maxwell lay pinned under Pappy’s frail body. Ghost Dog startled from his slumber and tottered over to Max. He licked across Maxwell’s annoyed face with his wet, pink tongue. When Maxwell grumbled and swatted at Ghost Dog, he returned to his place of slumber.
“Well, a gentleman fister would never,” Maxwell huffed as Daisuke climbed off him and helped him up.
“Don’t be a wet sock, Gotch,” he said, attaching the guns back at his hips. “Fighting fair is for pretty boys in wrestling clubs. In the real world, we find our honour somewhere else.”
Max huffed. “I am not a wet sock. I am being perfectly reasonable.”
“Tell that to the sky. Nobody thinks so.”
“Torse does.”
“Torse,” Daisuke scoffed. He settled down next to Ghost Dog, pulling out a rag and Biscuit.
“What?” Maxwell demanded, standing in front of Daisuke so well Wealwell would be impressed.
Pappy shot him an indiscernible look, then placed his hat back on, covering his eyes from Maxwell's view. He started polishing Biscuit, more a calming habit than a necessity. It shone as bright as Comfrey's ring which after all this time still hung on Daisuke's neck.
“Have you ever heard the story of how Comfrey and I met?” he asked.
Maxwell's face fell. He wasn't good with feelings, especially grief. When his grandfather died, Max hid in his room for three weeks so he wouldn't have to face his brothers’ mourning. Daisuke's pain from Comfrey's loss was as palpable as the day she died, every inch of him echoing with love for her that had nowhere to go.
“You haven't,” he said, perching down on the other side of Ghost Dog, who once more snored without a care in the world.
“I shoulda, back when she was here,” Daisuke mused, “She remembered it better than I ever did.”
His hand found the ring hanging on his neck.
“I was the most wanted man in Pilby,” he started, his eyes glazing over as if he could see it play out in front of him. “I’d been hired to come in and steal the Prized Jewel of the Thirsty Sandman. Or the Thirty Sandmans… I can’t remember—”
The Jewel of the Thorny Sand Dunes sat in a nook dug into the side of the Infinite Chasm of Pilsandria, but Daisuke Bucklesby didn’t know that yet. For now, he stalked into a high tower, hat low on his face and guns out with the safety long off.
“Verdinant! I want the Jewel!” he called out into the rounded stairwell, his words ringing upward as he climbed down into the ground.
The end of the staircase came with a room, bare, dark, and dusty, but Daisuke knew better. He could smell the murder in the air. Feel the surprise attack in the way the hairs on the back of his arms stood upright. He shot before he saw who was hiding from him.
“—she arrived in her ship to find me covered in blood and surrounded by half an army,” Pappy said, a small smile appearing on his face. “She looked roguishly attractive as she strode into the room. The thing that made me trust her was how unafraid she was of me. I stood in the middle of the room having killed about fifty armed fighters and here she was, walking up to me head on because she knew her words were her armour.”
Comfrey MacLeod had never been scared of anything, but when she saw Daisuke Bucklesby for the first time, fear clung onto her like molasses. She feared, more than anything before, that she would let this man leave her sight without having him for her.
She approached him, treading over the bodies piling on top of one another, her boots splashing in the puddles of blood. Her crew carefully surveyed the room behind her.
“Mr Bucklesby,” she said, her voice booming out, made for speeches and roaring crowds, “I’m afraid we’re after the very same thing and I am nothing if not unstoppable.”
Daisuke pulled his hat off, bowing his head slightly.
“Well, little lady,” he said with a quirk of the lip, “if that thing ain’t love, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong man.”
“We were too young for anything serious,” Daisuke continued. He’d switched out Biscuit for Gravy and continued polishing, “so I joined her crew and we kept it casual. At first, it was just the means to an end. I needed the Jewel for my buyer, she knew how to find it. But from the moment I saw her I knew we were meant for more. Even so, I never planned on following her orders.”
Professor Comfrey MacLeod’s first adventure with the most wanted man in Pilby took place in 1362. They travelled through Gath chasing leads and finding dead ends until they arrived at the Infinite Chasm, the dark canyon narrow and spreading deep into the ground, beyond human comprehension. Lava spat from the sides of the rock into the eternal dark depths into which the Chasm fell. The Jewel had been situated in a nook wedged into the rock’s side.
Daisuke Bucklesby offered to lead the retrieval mission, hiding his duplicity behind his fearless facade. He scaled the crumbling rocks down toward the Jewel. Until one wrong step sent him stumbling and falling down into the chasm
“I was dead, I thought,” Pappy said, “Lava all around me, a chasm with no end, and no seagulls to save me from falling. My time had come, gone too young, they’d say.”
Maxwell stared at Pappy, mouth wide open.
“I survived, of course. Wouldn’t have if not for Comfrey.”
Professor MacLeod leapt into the chasm after her gunslinger without a second thought. She fell through the air, her greying braids whipping in the wind and she laughed.
Clicking her boots together, propellers shot out of the bottom of her shoes and she sped toward Daisuke, their arms stretching toward one another. Comfrey caught him in her embrace.
“I would not let you fall for me,” she said, as they continued to plummet down into oblivion.
“I already have,” Daisuke whispered, breathless.
Comfrey smiled wide. She planted a kiss on his mouth and as she did, she pulled one of the many straps on her Windrider jacket.
A wingsuit flipped out, carrying the two back toward the ship.
“When I saw her rushing after me without a second thought…” Daisuke hummed, toying with the ring between his fingers. “I was the outlaw sacrifice, the reckless man. Anyone else would’ve thought me a lost cause. Not Comfrey. She leapt after me without a plan, coming up with a way to save us both mid-air.”
“That sounds horribly unsafe,” Maxwell grumbled out.
“Everything about her was.” Pappy smiled, deep in thought. “When I saw her hurtling through the air above me… I knew I was in love with this woman.”
Despite himself, Maxwell smiled. He remembered making a similar choice to leap after someone into a dangerous unknown. He once flew after Torse, trying to catch him as he rocketed into Zern. Torse had been unconscious at that point but Max wondered if—
He cleared his throat. “That’s a wonderful love story,” he said.
Daisuke craned his head to look at Maxwell as if there was something he was missing. A lot of people looked at him that way.
“I’ve always lived by three rules when it comes to love,” Daisuke hummed, looking up into the cloudy skies.
He paused, until he had Maxwell’s whole attention.
“One: love dangerously,” he said, lifting his index finger. “Two: love openly and boldly,” he lifted a second finger, then moved to lift a third, “Three…” he trailed off.
“What’s the third?”
Daisuke found the ring again, clutching it between his thumb and index finger. “Three,” he said, his voice low and quiet, almost a breath, “never let them go. That one I broke.”
Maxwell clasped a hand on Pappy’s shoulder.
“You found her again,” he said, “It’s not your fault she…”
Daisuke shook his head. “You don’t have to make the same mistake as me, Gotch.”
“What…?” Maxwell wanted to ask, but Daisuke had leaned back and pulled the hat over his face. The conversation was over.
The wedding of Professor MacLeod and ex-outlaw Bucklesby took place within two weeks of Daisuke joining the Wind Riders society, high in the skies of Gath. It was wild, hurried, passionate, and chaotic, just like Comfrey and Daisuke. Like their love for one another. Their honeymoon was nothing short of adventurous, but nobody dared to ever write the tales.
“I've been thinking about Torse,” Maxwell said, as he sat next to Olethra in the ship's kitchen. Bert had left simmering aioli on the stove and it filled the room with a strong scent of garlic.
“What's new,” she said.
“Huh?”
Olethra raised at eyebrow at Max.
“Doesn't matter,” Maxwell said quickly. He waved a hand in front of his face, as if to swat away Olethra’s expression. “I’ve been thinking about why Torse didn’t stay with us.”
Olethra shrugged. “He had business in Zern. We're adventuring in Zood. Different priorities.”
Maxwell sighed. “Why didn't I go with him, then?”
“Why would you?” Olethra asked, though it didn't seem like she needed the answer. Maybe she already knew it.
“I'd leap in front of a bullet for him. I'd fight to protect him with all my might. We're companions. He said it himself. And yet…”
“And yet…?”
“I didn't follow him.”
“This is your ship, Max. Torse doesn't blame you for staying.”
“But I wish he'd stayed, too,” Maxwell said quietly. The words surprised him. He barely knew he was thinking them. He'd long been ignoring the feeling gnawing at his heart— his flesh, faulty heart. A feeling he never recognised before.
“Did you ask?” Olethra crossed her arms.
Maxwell hadn't and he never thought he had the right to. Torse was his own person. He’d just gotten his world back, his people… But Comfrey had asked Daisuke to stay, to join her society. And Daisuke had told him his three rules. Rule three, never let them go. Maxwell had let Torse go. He’d made the same mistake as Daisuke.
It dawned on him that before that moment, he hadn't even considered that what he felt for Torse was love. Friendship, obviously. Companionship, sure. Kinship, definitely. They’d understoof each other in a way nobody else did. But not love. He never thought it was love.
It would have made sense, Maxwell thought. Since the first time Torse had come up to him and claimed to understand the way he functioned, Max’s heart had beat differently for the man from Zern. When he laughed at Maxwell's joke— the first time Max had ever heard him laugh— his heart had leapt and brightened and he had wished he could have heard that metallic, echoing sound forever.
Maybe Torse would not be able to return to him. Maybe he'd lost him already and they were now on diverging paths. But maybe, if he loved dangerously, openly and boldly… maybe Torse would stay.
The reunion of Maxwell Gotch and Torse of the Aganti Zernai was one for the books. Though he wasn’t there to witness it himself, Montgomery LaMontgommery included the moment in one of his later adventures, which he based on the recollections of his old crewmates. Reviewers had called it an epic conclusion of a story of star-crossed lovers. Maxwell grumbled that Monty had mischaracterised him.
The Zephyr landed on the regrowing lands of Zern, blowing up the sands and grasses of the wide fields on which Torse’s ship had landed just minutes before. Torse was waiting outside it already and boarded the Zephyr as soon as it touched down. Watched by the crew of both ships, Maxwell and Torse found each other on the deck, folding into a quiet embrace, their foreheads touching.
“Maxwell Gotch, it is an honour to see you again,” Torse said, his iron heart beating loudly in his chest, vibrating through the two bodies.
It took Maxwell a moment to realise that the glowing openings in his cheekbones made it look like he was blushing.
“I never should have let you leave without telling you…” Maxwell whispered, caressing Torse’s shoulder spikes. He brought his face closer to Torse and said three words nobody but Torse heard.
From atop the Zephyr, Daisuke Bucklesby watched the reunion unfold. He pulled his hat over his eyes, his lips twitching into a small smile. Catching Maxwell’s gaze, he nodded approvingly and mouthed: rule three.
Maxwell smiled back and held onto Torse tighter.