Pruned Trees Re-Sprout!! ~ Ragazza Volpe Magica ~

“I’m not trying to replace Cecil. I really did like him. But there’s a small part of me that thinks he wouldn’t have wanted me to dwell on my past mistakes.”

“Hah… Lying is what got him killed in the first place.”

A boy of fifteen years lay sprawled out on his bed. He was home, a nice one all things considered. Probably average by all accounts, but it was his home.

The curtains were drawn shut, blocking out the morning light. Not that it mattered. It had already been over two months since that day, and there were no signs of it becoming easier.

His mistakes were thrown back in his face time and again. Not by any malicious actor mind you, but by his clouded mind.

At least he could close his eyes now without seeing that shot.

Oh, how that trail of rhythm haunted his dreams for the first month.

It was a mercy, honestly. Someone cleaned up his mistake before the weight of his sins grew larger than he had already made it.

KNOCK KNOCK

“Vince honey, are you up?” a concerned voice asked from the other side of his door.

The teen Maestro mulled over his answer choice. “You could say that,” he decided on.

“Breakfast is ready,” they called back, a bit more hope in her voice.

With a resigned sigh, Vince sat up. Even with the black-out curtains, some light still penetrated the darkness of his bedroom. His eyes fell on a shimmering white device that lay on his desk. A trophy for his sins.

Even still, it felt wrong to leave it behind. Despite the static that graced the once vibrant user interface, he still carried it with him. Today was no exception. The young boy rose and clipped the device to his waist, ready to face the day.

Breakfast was silent. It had been like that ever since he got home following the incident. His parents were exceptionally good at reading the room, perhaps to a fault. They hadn’t spoken much to him outside of ensuring he was taking care of himself.

Were they mad at him?

He did come home via military escort. He wasn’t a parent, but even his naivete had a limit – it was at least alarming.

What’s more, that Kiki woman didn’t spare a single detail.

Whether he knew it or not, he had committed a crime. Feroce spells were considered Resonator abuse, and what he had done out at the hunter’s base camp could have gotten him much steeper charges… if he had managed to hit anyone.

Through the grace of the sages, there were no injuries, and only one fatality – Cecil.

The only reason his Resonator license wasn’t revoked on the spot was because Aster, the sniper woman’s Resonator spoke up in his defense. And not only that, they gave him an ultimatum – give them the information on Cecil’s original owner and they would drop all charges against him.

He didn’t want that – he wanted to be punished for his crimes.

But… Vince told them anyway. He didn’t want anyone else to make his mistake. The person who sold Cecil to him knew. He absolutely knew what he was doing.

“I’m going out,” Vince said, standing from the table, his plate empty.

Vince Rayburn was an average teen in all respects. Or at least he should have been. As he walked through his suburb, he saw the other Maestros who lived in his neighborhood. Some still in school, with their Student Permits, some full-fledged Maestros – like he was.

He meandered along, his eyes always drawn to the Resonators around him.

A Maestro running a roofing business stood on the ground, barking orders to the trio of bird Resonators laying shingles on a roof.

A boy his age was challenging a girl to a Resonator battle

A small troop of Nature elements was tending to the trees and grass of one of the bigger homes.

The thing all of these Resonators shared was the same: they didn’t look happy.

Vince hadn’t been the most perceptive young man, Cecil called it out many times before. But he never stopped to ask: was this what they wanted?

What did Cecil really want? Vince would never know. He never asked. He never thought to. It was so… odd how everyone just accepted things the way they were. Even the Resonators did.

In his mind, he saw his hero and his partners.

Yes, the one person who didn’t run away and tried to stop Vince from making that dreadful mistake. Shouri Tomoshibi. His partners never made the faces he saw on other Resonators. They were happy, content, and fulfilled in their lives.

They weren’t tools, they were people. His people and he was their person. Just as they belonged to him, he belonged to them.

It was too late now, but Vince now knew what a real Maestro looked like.

Before Vince knew it, a bus had stopped in front of him. The open door beckoned. In his rumination, he had found his way to a bus stop. With a shrug, Vince boarded the vehicle.

He remembered the day he brought Cecil home – it was a sunny day like this one.

Vince had been looking for the right Resonator for months. Sure, he could just go adopt someone from one of the many adoption services out there, but most of those were common Resonators like dogs, cats, and birds.

No, Vince Rayburn was a bright star destined for greatness. He couldn’t just have anyone as his first Resonator. He had to have someone with impact, someone that you’d write a legend about.

That’s when he found his way into downtown Corhiasela. He lived an hour or so outside the city limits, but he was riding the high of being a newly freed fifteen-year-old. So, without telling his parents where he was going, he just left one day.

Into the deep concrete jungle, the young boy ventured, taking in the sights and sounds all at his own pace. No parents or teachers to drag him around. He was free, he was an adult, and you could bet your bottom dollar he could handle himself.

What a moron he was.

He'd always remember that sketchy shop. It was in one of the rougher parts of the city, where the infrastructure had been neglected by the city planners, where the people who lived there did so out of necessity rather than choice.

Yet despite it all, one storefront – a re-purposed home – drew his attention. Not because it was fancy or clean, but because of the aura it radiated. It wasn’t like anything he had ever felt, it drew him in like a magnet.

“Welcome, how may I help you?” the older man’s voice rang from the depths of Vince’s memories.

Vince had learned a valuable lesson: if it’s too good to be true… it probably was.

“What are you looking for?”

“A strong and unique Resonator!”

“Ohoh, am I looking at a future Grand Master?”

“You bet! I’m going to be the best!”

“Like no one ever was, I would imagine.”

It had been less than half a year since that exchange, but even so, Vince felt secondhand embarrassment at his past self’s naiveté. The Vince of the present wanted to scream and shout, stop himself from making that terrible decision.

But even so, he couldn’t change what happened. His memories played on, looking over the various Resonators presented to him by that strange old man. Until finally, he was paraded out.

Cecil was quite the specimen; tall, fit, imposing – his expression was as hard as stone, unflinching and immovable. The brightness of his solar element radiated out for all to behold. Yes, it was as if Cecil himself was the very sun his element embodied.

Come to find out, not only was this creature a lion of all things, but an Albright, a supposed descendant of Armando of the Noble Swords.

Unfortunately, Vince was only fresh out of primary school, he had yet to start earning a single sharp on his own. He had money saved up, allowance, and graduation gifts from his relatives. Even he knew it was nowhere near enough to match the price tag an Albright would carry.

This is where all of the alarm bells should have been going off. He should have run away, or done anything else than what he did. Vince in the present caressed the cold white tuner that hung from his side. He missed the warmth of the connected device, the rhythm that used to be passed between him and Cecil.

“I think I can part with this one for that much. Oh, there is something I must tell you about its spells though. You see, these Resonators are very special, very powerful.”

Why didn’t he think about it more carefully? It stunk. Fishy as hell. But poor stupid Vince of the past went along with it.

All the paperwork he was given looked official enough. Even the MA Office he went to didn’t find a single problem with the forms Vince handed over. They happily registered Cecil under his name without batting an eye. He couldn’t blame the MA Office though; they must have done similar registrations multiple times a day. Of course, they wouldn’t bat an eye at him registering an Albright.

They didn’t know who Vince was – for all they knew, he was the kid of a wealthy crystal baron or something.

The only people who even questioned the sketchy circumstances were his parents.

“An Albright?”

“You didn’t get that much money from graduation.”

“What’s really going on here mister?”

Vince couldn’t say, of course. He didn’t want his shiny new powerful Resonator taken away from him. So he lied. A Maestro was retiring and sold off his Resonators on the cheap or something, he couldn’t remember exactly which lie he cooked up at the moment.

It worked… at least he thought so. His parents never actually told him if they believed his fibbery or just let him get away with it.

He kind of wished they had dug deeper into it. Maybe this was their way of showing him love? Trusting him to make adult decisions?

Ha, that just got a lion killed for no reason.

The boy sighed, his memories fading back from whence they came. He had managed to ride the bus in a complete circle – hours had passed all while he sat in his head. It must have been at least five or six in the evening at this point, he could only tell by the orange hues taking over the sky.

He departed from the bus, back in his comfy little neighborhood once again. By now people were getting home from work, so the foot traffic around was greater than when he left.

Either way, he didn’t pay it any mind. He simply walked back to his house.

However, when he walked through the front door, the sound of the home phone ringing graced his ears. Not too unusual, but what was different was what happened next.

“Vince? Is that you?” his mother called out for him.

“Yeah!” he shouted back.

“It’s for you!”

The boy blinked. Who would be calling for him?

He grabbed the receiver that hung in the main hallway.

“Vince speaking,” he answered.

“Hey Vince, you got a minute?” a familiar voice asked.

For the first time in months, a smile rose on his lips. “Yeah, I do.”