The creak of floorboards echoed across the Black Bulls' base as the sun dipped beyond the horizon, painting the sky in hues of burnt orange and purple. It was quiet—eerily so—for a change.
That didn't last.
Yami pushed open the front doors with his usual lack of subtlety, a puff of smoke trailing from his cigarette as he barked, "Alright, everyone! Listen up!"
Scattered across the room, the Black Bulls turned to their captain with varying degrees of interest. Vanessa glanced up lazily from the couch where she was lounging with a wine bottle. Magna paused in the middle of arm-wrestling Luck, who was practically vibrating with glee. Charmy looked up from a small mountain of food, while Finral peeked around a corner with visible worry.
"I've got good news and bad news," Yami continued, smoke curling from his mouth. "Good news is—it's payday."
A beat.
Then—
"YEEEEAAAHHH!" The base erupted in cheers, spell lights flashing and furniture toppling.
"Bad news," Yami added dryly, "is you're all still broke because you spend it all in the first three hours. That's why I'm givin' you tomorrow off. No missions. Try not to burn the damn place down."
Gauche perked up, brushing his hair back with an air of dramatic indifference. "May I extend my leave until Marie's next birthday?"
Yami didn't even blink. "Hell no."
"Tch," Gauche hissed, crossing his arms like a sulking cat.
"Captain!" Luck suddenly shouted, practically hopping in place, electricity snapping around his boots. "How much money do I need to pay you to fight you?! Name your price!"
Yami scratched his chin, unbothered. "Go fight Loyce or something. I'm not in the mood to babysit your brawls."
Across the room, Loyce sat at the long, beat-up table near the hearth, flipping through a thick stack of squad reports with an expression that danced between "this is fine" and "I'd rather be dead." He sipped a glass of chilled pomegranate juice as Luck blinked over at him with renewed excitement.
"No thanks," Loyce muttered without looking up. "Not today."
The vice captain was dressed more casually than usual—jacket unzipped, gloves off, white shirt wrinkled from long hours of desk work. His usual sharp presence was dulled slightly by fatigue, though he hid it well.
Yami turned toward him. "And you—don't forget to check in with Owen about that magic injury. You're not skippin' out on that."
"I already did it this morning," Loyce replied, setting one form aside. "He signed off and said I'm not dying. Yet."
Yami gave a satisfied grunt and clapped a hand to his stomach. "Good. Anyway, I gotta surpass my limits in the toilet."
There were groans across the room. Finral visibly winced. Charmy dropped her fork.
"I hate when he says that," Magna muttered.
Yami was already gone, trailing cigarette smoke and ominous digestive energy.
Vanessa slinked over to Loyce, draping herself halfway across the back of the couch. "Mmm, what's this I hear about injury reports and doctor visits?" she asked in a singsong tone, though her eyes searched his face with subtle concern. "Don't tell me our baby vice captain's been overdoing it again."
"It's nothing," Loyce replied, tone even. "Just a routine exam. Parliament wanted paperwork to prove I wasn't going to explode and take a city block with me."
Vanessa leaned in closer. "Figures. You did blow up half a dungeon recently, didn't you?"
He didn't deny it.
From across the room, Noelle chimed in, arms crossed but voice softer than usual. "You know, I've been wondering… Why did you even help me with my mana control? You didn't owe me anything."
Loyce looked up from his forms, blinking once.
"But I get it now," Noelle continued. "You've been dealing with the same problem. Just in your own way."
"Yeah," Loyce said quietly. "I've had that problem since I joined. Three years ago."
Something in his tone shifted. Something heavy, like the moment before a storm.
"I was twelve."
The entire room froze.
Loyce blinked, realizing too late what he'd just said. The words had slipped out so casually, but the silence that followed was anything but.
"I was twelve."
The entire room froze.
Not a muscle moved. Not a breath was taken.
Vanessa blinked, the wine bottle in her hand tipping slightly as she processed his words. "Wait… did you say twelve?"
Finral nearly choked on air. "Twelve? As in twelve years old when you joined the squad?!"
Charmy stared at him, a piece of cake halfway to her mouth. "Twelve?! That's like… baby-sized! Did you even eat properly back then?!"
Loyce calmly took another sip of his pomegranate juice, clearly regretting nothing and everything at once.
Across the room, Grey transformed into a puff of smoke before reappearing in her flustered form, whispering so low it could barely be heard, "But… he always seemed so… grown-up…"
Gordon stepped forward, solemn and quiet as ever, hands clasped. "A soul hardened in silence… a child burdened with leadership… How admirable," he whispered—probably. No one could really make it out.
Vanessa narrowed her eyes and moved to sit properly next to him, her tone shifting from teasing to intrigued. "So let me get this straight—you were out there handling dungeon logistics, acting as vice captain material… and you were a literal kid?"
"It was easier not to mention it," Loyce muttered.
Luck suddenly grinned wide, lightning cracking at his feet. "That means you were younger than me when I joined! That's awesome! I should've challenged you to a fight right away!"
Magna stood up with a dramatic scoff. "Oi, oi—hold up! You're telling me we've had a damn child prodigy in the squad this whole time?! Tch… makes me feel like a background character in my own damn life!"
Gauche, arms crossed and eyes narrowing, stared at him with new judgment. "So you're one of those creepy genius types. That's disgusting. Marie would never act like that."
Finral, now holding a drink he definitely didn't have a moment ago, groaned. "Wait… wait, wait, wait. That means you're what—fifteen right now?"
Loyce looked directly at him, deadpan.
"Don't do the math."
A long silence followed, broken only by the clink of his glass being set back down.
Charmy suddenly stood, dramatically holding out a rice ball. "You must eat more! That's why you're so serious! You didn't get enough snacks as a child!"
Loyce blinked. "I literally cook half the meals in this base—"
She shoved the rice ball in his face.
Vanessa started laughing. "You know… it actually explains a lot. You act like a grumpy old man half the time, but then you go and do stuff like file perfect reports in glittery folders and act like the world's tired oldest teenager."
"You use stickers on your reports," Noelle added flatly.
"They help you read them faster," Loyce shot back with faint irritation.
Finral leaned on the back of the couch, still looking stunned. "I mean… this makes sense in a weird way. You've always carried yourself like someone older, but now that I'm thinking about it… you do have those weird little kid gaps in behavior sometimes."
"Hey," Magna said, eyes narrowing, "I remember that time you froze up when Vanessa offered you alcohol. You didn't say anything, just quietly slid out the door."
Vanessa laughed even harder. "You pulled a damn stealth escape?!"
"I wasn't even fifteen then," Loyce muttered darkly. "I was thirteen. You were all insane."
Luck was practically vibrating. "So you're a genius and a monster! You were doing Vice Captain stuff while your voice was probably cracking!"
"Still cracks sometimes," Loyce grumbled under his breath.
Charmy gasped. "Do you even have a bed-time?!"
At that point, Grey just nodded solemnly. "That explains… a lot…"
Gauche looked like he was mentally scrubbing every memory he had of Loyce from existence.
Finral held up his hands. "Alright, alright, everyone settle down. Let's not give the poor kid a complex."
Loyce gave him a dry look. "Too late."
The door creaked open again as Yami stepped back in, wiping his hands on his robes. "What the hell's with all the yelling?"
Finral turned to him immediately. "Captain. Did you know Loyce was twelve when he joined?"
Yami blinked. "Yeah. So?"
The room erupted again.
"WHAT?!"
"You KNEW?!"
"You let a TWELVE-YEAR-OLD handle missions?!"
Yami stared at them, unimpressed. "Kid was stronger than half of you at the time. Had a cool head, didn't complain, kept records like a librarian with OCD. And he was quieter than the rest of you. Seemed like a win."
Charmy collapsed face-first into the snack table. "I'm going to cry…"
Yami scratched the back of his head and looked at Loyce. "That reminds me. Since you're still technically underage… we probably shouldn't have let you sign off on squad booze orders."
Vanessa gasped. "You approved those?!"
Loyce got up, took his juice, and walked toward the hallway with the slow, heavy gait of a veteran carrying the weight of his soul.
"I'm taking a nap," he muttered. "If anyone needs me, don't."
He vanished around the corner as the rest of the squad either laughed, screamed, or reevaluated their entire memory of him.
–Later–
The chaos of the day had ebbed. Most of the Bulls were passed out, busy with food comas, or buried under blankets in a hangover of laughter and leftover emotion. The halls of the base were finally quiet.
Yami walked them slowly, cigarette burning low between two fingers, his other hand buried deep in his pocket. He moved with no real purpose—just following instinct.
He paused outside one particular room. Loyce's.
The door was closed, lights off beneath the crack. Yami stood there a moment, like he was debating whether to knock.
Then, with a casualness only he could pull off, he opened the door without asking.
Inside, Loyce was sitting on his bed, boots off, cloak folded neatly on the chair beside him. His black hair was tousled, the edge of exhaustion just visible beneath his usual impassiveness.
"I locked that," Loyce muttered.
Yami raised an eyebrow. "No, you didn't."
A beat.
"…Mentally," Loyce said flatly.
Yami chuckled and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The room smelled faintly of books, steel, and pomegranate. No nonsense. All Loyce.
"You alright?" Yami asked, leaning against the wall.
"Fine."
Yami gave him a look.
"…Tired," Loyce amended, reluctantly.
Yami took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. "That thing earlier. You slipping about your age. That was on purpose, wasn't it?"
Loyce didn't answer right away. He stared at the floor, then up toward the moonlight pouring in through the window.
"Half on purpose," he said finally. "I forgot for a second that no one else knew."
Yami grunted. "Don't seem like something you usually forget."
"I've been in this squad for three years. Thought maybe… if they found out now, it wouldn't matter as much."
Yami crossed the room and dropped into the chair beside the bed, the old wood creaking under his weight.
"They're not mad at you, kid. They're just… processing. Can't blame them. They thought you were twenty or something."
"I act like I'm eighty," Loyce muttered.
Yami snorted. "Yeah. Like an old man who drinks tea and files taxes for fun."
A silence settled, comfortable this time.
Then Yami leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes a little more serious.
"You've done a lot for this squad. Hell, you've done too much. It ain't normal for a twelve-year-old to be writing mission reports and carrying the weight of grown men with battle trauma. I didn't stop you 'cause you could handle it. But that don't mean I wasn't watching."
Loyce didn't respond right away. He just looked at Yami. Not coldly. Just… quietly. Like something in his chest had loosened, just a bit.
"I know," he said.
Yami nodded, dragging another breath from his cigarette.
"I ever tell you why I let you in so young?"
Loyce shook his head.
Yami smiled, faint and rough-edged. "Cause you reminded me of someone. Little kid, too serious for his age. Strong, sure—but more than that. You didn't flinch when things got ugly. You listened. You thought. You carried things even when they were too heavy for your size."
He leaned back, looking up toward the ceiling like he could see the stars through it.
"I knew what you were doing. You wanted to prove you belonged before anyone could question it. Like if you worked twice as hard, no one would notice you were a kid."
Loyce swallowed. "Did it work?"
Yami looked at him. "No."
Loyce blinked.
"They noticed. Everyone noticed, eventually. They just didn't say anything because you made yourself indispensable. That's not something a captain can teach. That's something you had in you from the start."
Another quiet pause passed before Yami added, "But you don't gotta carry all of it anymore. You've got a squad now. Trust 'em with some of the weight."
Loyce looked down again, hands folded. "That's hard."
"Yeah. Good." Yami grinned. "Means you're not stupid."
He stood up, stretching with a grunt. "Get some sleep. You've earned more of it than you've taken."
Yami turned toward the door, but paused just before stepping out.
"…I'm proud of you, kid."
Then, just like that, he was gone.
Loyce sat there in the silence that followed, unmoving for a long time. Then slowly, he laid back on the bed, exhaling into the ceiling.
"…Yeah," he whispered to no one, "I know."
And for the first time in a long while, he let himself sleep without keeping one eye open.