Dissonant

Following the loud, joyous cry about the arrival of the mercenaries, a set of hurried footsteps echoed around underneath my room. I threw the covers off my bed, trying to stop my body from overheating as I listened to them.

My hearing really was so much better now, in this form. I could almost tell exactly where the footsteps were, and who they belonged to. Alvin’s stride was just that little bit lighter than my father’s, as he hurried around what I was fairly sure was the kitchen.

The familiar sounds of the kitchen cupboards creaking open and closed confirmed my theory. I had known he was excited for the next time the mercenaries were going to arrive, but he was moving way faster than I was expecting. Grabbing some preserved meat out of the pantry, slamming it down on the kitchen bench… Another set of footsteps showed up, along with the loud voice of my father telling him to slow down.

“They’ll be here for at least a week,” he said, his chair making the familiar creak of him sitting down in his usual spot by the window. “You’ll have time to train with them. Besides, knowin’ them, they’re more likely to make time to help you train, rather than the other guys.”

“You reckon?” Alvin replied.

“Yeah, ‘cause you actually listen to them, unlike everyone else.”

I rolled over in bed, content to listen to the two of them talk about the mercenaries, when my arm brushed against the journal that I had swiped from the crypt. Right, I had been planning to read the rest of it, but I was too tired last night, and instead just left it underneath my pillow.

I grabbed the corner that was sticking out, and pulled it out from where it lay.

In the light of the sun streaming in through my window, the gold spiral pattern on the spine glittered and sparkled. The hard covers of the book had kept the pages in extremely good condition, especially considering how long it must have spent unattended down in the crypt.

Unattended, except for… well, a monster.

Sitting up in my bed, I stared at the journal, laying it down in my lap. Of all the books I had, this would be the one that was most likely to hold the answers. My body first changed down in the crypt, so it most likely had something to do with there, right?

The previous journal entries I had read talked about a mixture of something that was being made… something called Materia. Was that the drop of liquid that fell onto my neck? Or was it the fluid that the monster was made out of… or both.

The drip was the start of the strange buzzing I had felt, and the pipes where the drip had fallen were connected to that mirror, the one that showed my… other form. The monster fluid made the buzzing so much more intense, too, when it splashed onto me.

I glanced over at the flask of black liquid sitting on my desk. Was it the same liquid? I had taken it from the crypt, and in the moonlight it glowed in the same way as the mirror… and the same way as the monster.

Now, though… it was merely a dull black void. It didn’t even seem to reflect the light of the sun at all, unlike the pots of ink sitting next to it that I had bought from a travelling merchant a few years back.

I paused for a moment as I began to feel my tail slowly swishing back and forth, brushing against the covers. My clothes, soaked and sticky with sweat, felt much more coarse against my skin than I was used to. And though the sounds of Alvin and my father stomping around downstairs had stopped, the excited screams of the other guys in the village and the clacking of wooden swords clashing against each other filtered through my window instead.

…Would I ever get used to this?

I reached for the journal laying in my lap, and… hesitated, my hand hovering over the cover. 

My heart always seemed to jump, whenever I thought about opening the journal. Like it was something bad, or… like I would lose something if I read it. If I went through the entries, and found out that this really was permanent, what would I end up doing?

I looked over at the floor-length mirror in my room. Dad had reluctantly given it to me, after he gave up on trying to cut my hair. I barely ever used it though, since the small mirror in the bathroom was enough for me to tie my hair back.

Sliding the journal to the side, I slowly stood up off the bed, walking over to the mirror. The same green irises as yesterday stared back at me, still just as wary and nervous. My reflection looked somewhat like a scared animal, the impression made stronger by the barely-noticeable slit pupils that my eyes now had, like that of the pictures of foxes that I had seen in books. 

Those books often said that foxes were nocturnal, and had very good night vision. Was that why everything seemed so much brighter?

As a loud yelp resounded from outside my window, my ears twitched, and my tail began to sway back and forth once more. I paused to listen, curious as to what was going on.

“I’m still no match for you,” one of the village guys was saying. “How much would I have to train to beat you?”

Were they sparring in the village centre? I suppose, with the mercenaries watching them, that must have fired up the guys’ fighting spirit… or something. I had never quite understood why they always wanted to fight each other so much.

“It’s not a matter of trainin’,” Alvin’s voice floated in across the air, his tone confident and cocky. “There’s still somethin’ you’re missing. If you can’t figure that out, you haven’t got a chance at bestin’ me.”

...He just won that sparring match, didn’t he? By a wide margin too, from the sounds of things. I felt myself breathe an involuntary sigh of relief. He’d managed to uphold his reputation, then… as the best fighter in the village. Both him and Dad were just as respected as each other, for their fighting prowess.

And what of me? I turned my attention back towards the mirror, and stared at my reflection. My hair seemed to glow a golden red as it caught the light of the sun streaming in through the window. I hadn’t yet tied it back, and so it hung straight down my back and along the sides of my face, slightly sticking there because of the sweat.

If it wasn’t for my baggy pyjamas… and these ears and tail, I’d look like any of the other girls in the village. Even the shape of my body had changed somewhat, though not a huge amount. A few slight curves here and there, and… u-up on my chest, too.

Although, despite all that, I still looked just as stick-thin as I usually did. That part of me hadn’t changed. If I had some nicer clothes, ones that weren’t quite so loose and uncomfortable, and maybe if I paid a bit more attention to what I ate… I could scrounge some of the vegetables from the other people in the village, and put together a slightly healthier meal. Colette was always telling me that I needed to eat more than just meat…

I recoiled, flopping awkwardly back down on the bed. What was I thinking?! I was a guy, and yet… I covered my face with my hands, laying on my side as I tried to ignore the sensations that I was beginning to become more and more aware of — my heart, slowly starting to feel like it was tightening up, and my tail, thumping against my bed over and over again.

I grabbed my pillow, squeezing it tightly in my arms. Ever since Alvin and I had returned from the crypt, I had been trying not to think about my… body situation. I was focusing on making sure that no one saw my other form, and hoping that I’d turn back in time before anything bad happened.

Maybe that was why I was so hesitant to look at the journal from the crypt. If it turned out that, eventually, I wouldn’t be able to turn back… what would I do? Where would I go? Would I have to move out, so that I wasn’t living with Dad anymore? Would I have to… leave the village?

As my mind filled up with more and more worries, I squeezed my pillow tighter and tighter. I hadn’t yet gone downstairs to wash my face, or find food. What if Dad came up to check on me, and he found me like this? What if…

My vision went blurry for a moment as the light from the window suddenly dimmed, the sounds becoming more distant at the same time. I closed my eyes, waiting for the transformation to pass.

In the end, it was… better this way, wasn’t it? I wouldn’t have to worry about what everyone else thought of me. I wouldn’t have to hide, or sneak around. As my senses started to stabilise, I slowly lifted myself up off my bed, walking over to the mirror again.

The same old me stared blankly back from the reflection in the mirror. This was how things were meant to be. This slightly vacant stare, this stubble… this same scraggly body trying to hide under baggy clothes. I was a guy, and I always had been. There wasn’t anything else to it.

I turned away from the mirror, feeling the same slight clawing at my heart that I always felt. Grabbing my wash rag from where it hung on the back of my chair, I left my bedroom, making sure not to glance at my reflection anymore.

*     *     *     *     *

Opening the door to the kitchen, I found my father in his usual spot, sitting in his chair staring out of the window. Though it was quite a distance away, he had almost a perfect view of the village centre, where all the mercenaries were set up.

“Morning, Matty,” he said nonchalantly, not even turning around to face me.

“Uh– good morning, Dad,” I replied, caught off guard. How long had it been since he had simply said “good morning” to me? I couldn’t even remember.

Ever since Alvin and I had come back from the crypt, and Alvin had told him about our encounter with the monster, he had been oddly docile. He didn’t bother me about getting stronger, he didn’t seem to mind when I went to Colette’s place to help her, rather than going off to train… and he didn’t even react yesterday when I had said that I wanted to eat dinner in my room.

He seemed almost listless, staring out of the window with his chin resting in his hand. As I busied myself finding something for breakfast — which ended up being more jerky, because that was the food that we always had the most of — he let out a large sigh.

“At this point,” he began, leaning back in his chair, “the only guy in the village that can even compete with any of them is Alvin.”

I nervously wandered over next to him, staring out of the window as I munched on the handful of jerky that I had grabbed.

A small crowd had gathered in the village centre, standing in the shade of the weapons shed. A short distance away from them, a small arena had been set up, the boundaries marked by a few posts that had been driven into the ground. 

At one end of the arena was the same group of guys that I had seen on my way to the weapons shed yesterday, each holding various kinds of wooden swords and spears. They excitedly waved them above their heads, cheering at the two people dancing around each other in the middle of the arena.

“That’s Alvin, and…”

“One of the mercs, I’m pretty sure,” my father continued as my voice stalled. “She’s been here a few times in the past, and she’s always wiped the floor with everyone else.”

Though we were a bit of a distance from the village centre, the somewhat elevated position of our house meant that we had a slight overview of the arena. Because of this, it was easy to see the sparring matches as they happened.

Alvin seemed to be on the defensive, holding his sword in front of himself in a position to block an incoming strike. His opponent, a girl with short, blonde hair, was hunched down low in front of him, weaving her two wooden daggers around as if looking for an opportunity to pounce.

...Wait, was she using the same weapon grip that Alvin taught me?

She swiped at him with the dagger in her left hand, clashing with Alvin’s sword as he blocked her attack. Without hesitation, she brought the same dagger back, slashing at him from a different angle. As Alvin twisted his sword around to block her, she rushed forward, sidestepping around Alvin’s outstretched right arm and placing the dagger in her right hand at his throat.

“...It’s my win,” she said, her voice carried along by the wind.

The crowd had gone silent, and the boys who had previously been cheering lowered their weapons, slumping their shoulders forward.

“There was no way he was winnin’ that,” my father began, his previously balled fist now unclenching. “She had ‘im on the defensive the whole time.”

“Isn’t Alvin one of the best fighters in the village?”

“He is, but that’s only ‘cause I taught him about readin’ his opponents early on.” Dad glanced back at me with a strangely relaxed expression. “That’s why he’s always so excited whenever the mercs show up. They’re the only sparrin’ partners he’s got that he hasn’t figured out yet.”

He turned back towards the window, staring out at the village centre again.

“He’s probably better suited to fightin’ monsters though, if I’m bein’ honest.” He gestured for me to come closer, before pointing out the window at the mercenary girl. “If y’see, her weapons are two short daggers. There’s not much she can do against a monster without gettin’ real up close an’ personal with it.”

“And at that range, she’d get splashed with monster fluid, wouldn’t she?”

“Y-yeah, exactly.” Dad faltered as he responded, his hand twitching at my mention of the monster fluid.

I… hadn’t told him anything about the monster fluid yet, had I? And Alvin had agreed to keep it a secret, too. I felt the blood drain from my face as old worries resurfaced. Did he think it was… bad that I knew about the effects of the monster fluid?

I looked back at the village centre, trying to make sure that my father couldn’t see how pale I had gone. 

“Wait, where’d Alvin go?”

Both Alvin and the mercenary girl had disappeared from the arena, and two other people were preparing to fight in their place. Ben, one of the combatants, waved his sword around confidently, pointing it at the other person in the arena.

“Knowin’ Alvin, he’s probably gone off to try to convince that girl to help ‘im train.” My father leant back in his chair, staring out the window at the ensuing match. “You haven’t seen what he’s like when the mercs are around yet, have ya?”

What he said was true… All the times the mercenaries had arrived in the past, I had hidden in my room, or at Colette’s place, just to avoid my father. I had always been terrified that he’d drag me out to train with all of them.

As I finished the rest of my jerky, the front door loudly clattered, and Alvin burst into the kitchen, sweat dripping from his hair.

“Hey, Matty,” he began, rushing towards me. “You got time? I wanna introduce you to someone.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the kitchen and into the hallway. As we reached the front door, he halted, letting go as he waited for me to put my shoes on.

“This better be worth it, Al,” an unfamiliar voice said, from just outside the door. “You said you had someone interesting for me.”

“If it’s you, I reckon you can help ‘im.”

I followed Alvin outside, finding the mercenary girl he had just fought standing in the shade of our house, her arms at her hips.

“I modelled the fightin’ style I was teachin’ him after yours, but there’s only so much I can do without knowin’ it myself. So… who could be a better teacher than the real deal?”