The sky had turned orange already, and the sun left for the moon. A day of work had been missed, so four days worth of work was expected the next. Yushia whimpered at the fact and suppressed his dammed tears.

Supper neared as he left his tent and walked nervously to the mess hall. Would everyone laugh at him for what happened? He was already an outcast, but it wasn’t impossible to sink even lower. All he could do was frown.

In the distance, slaves cheered and chanted a heroic name.

Yushia turned his head and stared at the absurd, dramatic movements of shadows behind a brightly lit cloth screen that turned his frown into a smile. He had forgotten about the shadow puppets show Buford was hosting! Tonight, Buford had chosen a favorite among the slaves: Siru Secant and the Vermillion Bird Versus Laplace.

He ran to the mess hall, scooped porridge into a bowl, and walked eagerly to the crowd of slaves and took a seat in the back, far away from the others. He had to make sure his presence didn’t bother anyone.

“They clashed! They roared! The powerful Vermillion Bird’s Mansion of Ghosts is lit ablaze, Siru Secant sends the Greater Demon Laplace into a daze. The legendary hero slashes his blade of fire, Laplace’s situation begins to look dire! Laplace wallows in Lake Wiku!”

This story never got old for Yushia. Watching Siru Secant’s shadow and Laplace’s shadow sway at unimaginable speeds was the most entertaining thing to watch and was enough to distract Yushia from the cooling porridge in his lap.

“Perhaps it wasn’t such a cinch, Siru Secant appears to be in a pinch... Laplace has survived! The legendary hero wonders why. The Greater Demon Laplace is in a fit of anger, the way he approaches Siru Secant asserts his immense power! The two are both severely depleted until suddenly, Laplace has fallen! He is finally defeated!”

The crowd erupted into roars as Laplace’s shadow puppet vanished from the cloth screen. Finally, Yushia scooped a spoonful of cold porridge and ate happily without a care in the world. The puppets bowed to each other and waved before leaving their stage. Buford, a small and skinny old man came out from the sides and thanked the crowd by bowing. He was the oldest among all the slaves and the most respected for his past life. During his youth, he was a contractor that killed government officials who purchased slaves too young for the slave life. If Yushia remembered correctly, it was Buford who was the least afraid to approach him on his first day at CM-22. He was probably saddened to see someone so young become a slave.

Most of the slaves began heading back to their tents to rest for tomorrow’s work, but some like Arnie stayed to trade their food and other goods. Yushia would have gone back to his tent as well to avoid Arnie, but he didn’t. He felt obligated to give his thanks to Buford—who was cleaning up behind his screen—for putting on a good show. He slowly approached him.

“Good evening, Buford.” Yushia bowed. “Thank you for putting on your best show today.”

Buford looked up as he packed his puppets into a bag. “Ah, Yushia! It’s always a pleasure entertaining you all. I’m glad you’ve taken joy with my work.”

Talking to Buford was nice. He didn’t discriminate or think Yushia as less of a being because of his race.

“Ah, that reminds me,” Buford said as he stood up. He rubbed his back and scratched his nose. “You got into a fight with Kran today, didn’t you?”

Yushia nodded with remorse.

“Ahaha!” Buford blurted. “Who would’ve thought, someone as cold and reserved as you had a knack for fighting! Kids from my time could never be like you!”

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Perhaps he heard him wrong. Yushia tilted his head, confused. “Cold and reserved? What do you mean?”

“Boy, I remember you were the wild one when you first arrived here in CM-22. It seemed like everyday someone was picking on you for being a Cerulean. You were a very erratic child, but you eventually calmed down after your first year here. To others it might have looked like you matured, but for someone your age, I think it’s more likely that something in you gave up.”

Yushia took a second to think. Had he really changed that much? How much had he really lost since being in CM-22? A tear dripped down his left eye, followed by another on his right. His face remained stoic, but the dam holding back his tears broke.

Buford reached his hand up and grabbed the boy’s shoulder. “An old man like me has had more than enough experience in life. I think I can be of help if you need to relieve any anguish.”

More tears began streaming down Yushia’s eyes. Wiping them away barely helped as they kept running. “I’d like to talk with you more.”

Buford smiled and told Yushia to sit on the ground next to him. He waited patiently as he listened to the boy cry.

“Can I start?” Yushia asked, sniffling.

“Of course you can.”

Even though he was the one who proposed to talk, he felt nervous since it was his first time sharing his story. Nobody else would understand, and they’d probably laugh at him. Buford was the only one he could trust, the only one he had to courage of speaking to.

“Five years ago, I lose my family, my wife, and everyone around me... I was ten years old at the time and it was my wife’s birthday... Shiashia was her name. She had just turned ten just like me, and I was heading to the river to celebrate her birthday with everyone else.”

“Oh my, a wife at such a young age?” Buford said jokingly, patting Yushia on the back. “Good for you.”

Yushia chuckled lightly and was surprised by it. “Yes, it’s common for us Ceruleans. Shiashia and I had been married for around a year, and her birthday was also our anniversary. After I gave her my present, I went to go see my family further down the river.”

He paused. Buford could sense the hesitance and fear in Yushia’s voice.

“They were below the waterfall, actually... My parents and my little brother were burned on crosses.”

Blood dripped out of Yushia’s lips as he bit down on them, trying to suppress the tears he worked so hard to keep in. Buford knew to keep listening and patted the boy’s back.

“Be not afraid of shedding your tears,” he said. “It must have been so hard for you. Please, don’t hold back your emotions.”

The comforting words of Buford opened the dams in Yushia’s eyes again, and his tears broke free for the first time since he’d been captured. Years of pent-up frustration and sorrow came out all at once, and stopping now seemed impossible.

“The Igneelians found them, and they... they died, and I wanted to go save them, but my body froze because I was too scared! I ran away and I tried warning our village’s chief, but it was too late... We were already surrounded by the Igneelians...”

Yushia’s breath hastened, hyperventilating from reimagining the scene. He felt that at any moment he’d pass out.

“Calm and slowly,” Buford said with an easing voice. “If pouring this out all at once is too much for you, we can continue another tim—”

Yushia shook his head, “N-No, I can continue...” he spoke frantically. “The village chief told me to run and take Shiashia away, but by the time he said that, an Igneelian ethercaster shot Shiashia in the side of her head.. I didn’t know what to do and froze again! I was too weak to do anything! Me being there was useless! Why couldn’t I do anything!? A man named Vilhelm appeared, and another ethercaster did and he made us unable to move, and then I lost feeling in my body, and I knew I was going to fall unconscious eventually, and...”

“And then?” Buford asked.

A sudden revelation struck Yushia. “The adults were murdered and the children who survived were thrown in cages... I was going to pass out, but there was still someone fighting...”

He hadn't realized until now who that person was, the one who rose despite being dead. It clicked as if the lock in his memory had found its key.

Shiashia? It was you, wasn't it?