[hr][hr][h3][i]Kaides Main House, 3rd Floor[/i][/h3] 
[img]https://i.imgur.com/l6wMoFi.png[/img][hr][hr]
[i]"...Did he really just say that to me?"[/i]

The Patriarch's last words, somehow carried across emptiness by the resonance between two Divine Auras, wrung Vincent's soul out until he felt as if every ounce of hateful rage, of tearful sorrow---anguish, rejection, vindication, retribution, ignorance, realization---all of it, as if all of it was being twisted out of him like dirty bathwater.

[i]"How dare you.
How DARE you!
How dare YOU!?"[/i]

Everything was twisting around him, spiraling down and down and down. As he was pulled back, screaming every ounce of defiance against death and the world and demonkind and his own father, the last thing he remembered was the blazing gold and nebulous black crystal impaling his empty eye socket.

[i]"After all of this...why [b]that?[/b]"[/i]

His eyes opened. [i]Both[/i] of them. Red silk, white curtains, a downy pillow. Sunlight through an open window; birdsong; the smell of lilies, violets, and lavender in the crystal vase the maids always had to leave on his table by his mother's orders. His fingers gripped the edge of the sheets as if he were going to tear himself free.

[i]Where...? This is...my room?[/i] He rolled to his left, as he always did so that he could place his right palm against the ground and push himself up---But his left arm pinched against his body and the mattress, as pins and needles pricked his fingertips. For the first time in two years he [i]felt[/i] it! With a gasp he recoiled, nearly tumbling out of the bed---with muttered curses and a great deal of thrashing, Vincent Kaides finally roused himself from the cocoon of sheets and throw-blankets.

[i]My body---My [b]body![/b][/i] He swept the thin curtains aside and stumbled on legs that were no longer the right length. He fell against a vanity dresser, and gazed into the mirror. [i]---How? What kind of magic...no, it's not possible, is it? And yet![/i]

Vincent looked down at his hands. Young, barely calloused, intact. The room swam as he turned his head---he wasn't used to having full depth-perception anymore. He felt...not whole. Something was missing. Now closing his eyes, he sent his consciousness deep into the depths of self only to find it empty. Cold panic seized him, turning curiosity and a budding excitement into sudden fear. He could no longer feel his Aura! After so many grueling years of training, after everything he'd given up---!

[i]No.[/i] There, between his navel and his spine, smaller than a grain of barley. A tiny, fragile, sputtering spark. An ember that needed to be fed before it could alight once more. In the past, it had starved, but now his past was his present. How far had he come back? He gazed into the mirror again, turning his left cheek towards the glass.

[i]No dueling scar. So this is before Blaise's lackeys "put me in my place."[/i] He lifted up his nightshirt, revealing smooth, pale skin that had little fat on it, yet was soft and untoned. [i]That old bastard's "training" never accomplished squat, either, so I must not have entered Collegem yet to get any [b]real[/b] work done. So I'm...what, ten? Eleven? God, was I [b]really[/b] this scrawny and pathetic?![/i]

At that moment a knock sounded at his door. Three times, rapt and loud, but merely a courtesy before his mother asserted her authority by barging in anyway. And as always, that dog [url=https://cdn.donmai.us/original/12/e3/__spring_mustachio_one_punch_man_drawn_by_kanno_ponta__12e390a5be71a2709d9b4ec5e653cb9a.png]Balbys[/url] was at her shoulder. As soon as Vincent saw him, both fists clenched and a snarl twisted his face; the ember of Aura deep in his guts was replaced by hateful bile, a bitter indigestion that soured in his belly.

But his mother was all skirts and twirls as she swept him into her embrace, and suddenly the small, shriveled parts of him that were still human---emotions he thought he'd killed long ago---begged him to return the gesture and sob into her shoulder. He refused, but [i]by god[/i] he wanted to just melt down more than anything he'd wanted in almost a decade.

"Good morning, my darling!" Amabilia Kaides said, her voice as loud and her noble accent as polished as it has always been---even in private moments like this, anyone passing by the halls had to [i]know[/i] that she was a proper and outstanding member of high society. She had to turn heads, had to make sure the image she was presenting was always seen---

And yet, Vincent had missed her terribly.

"Are you excited for your first day of Collegem?" she beamed, not even waiting for his answer before she gestured to the manservant. "I've prepared the most wonderful [url=https://cdn.donmai.us/sample/6d/2f/__riddle_rosehearts_twisted_wonderland_drawn_by_ff_rchu__sample-6d2f903cea6451b4163f44e0e5eec775.jpg]outfit[/url] for you! We have to make sure your first impression is---" 

"Oh [b]fuck me[/b], not [i]that[/i] again!"

In the shocked, wide-eyed silence that followed, Vincent pushed himself away from his mother's bosom, which was rapidly paling in color just like her almost-bloodless face. Behind her, Balbys looked like he'd choked on something as he held aloft the offending garment. Vincent pointed at it, standing with feet spread and shoulders hunched like a guard dog with its hackles raised as he barked his refusal.

"Enough with those pansy-ass [i]shortpants[/i]! God DAMN it, I forgot how much I fuckin' HATED those things!"

"V-v-v-v-v-Vinceeeeent---!" Amabilia's satin-gloved hands went to her cheeks in horror, even as her jaw clenched so tightly one of her perfect white teeth might have cracked.

"Language, young master!" Balbys suddenly snapped, using a tone reminiscent of a drill instructor bringing soldiers to heel. For an exact tenth of a second, Vincent felt a deeply buried piece of his muscle memory tremble at that voice. He remembered, in that instant, how this [i]tutor[/i] had always berated and abused him, from the time he was seven years old until the day that---. [i]No. In the end, he was an [b]ant[/b] nibbling at my [b]ankles[/b].[/i] "How could you speak such filthy words in front of your noble mother---!"

"The same way [i]you[/i] could always say my bitch of a sister "would look at lot better on her back," when you thought I wasn't listening, you derelict two-faced [i]shit[/i]!" The instincts honed by years of grueling battle felt the blow coming, and he ducked under it. His mother, standing to her full height now, raised her hand to try and slap him again.

"Vincent, [i]stop[/i] speaking like that this [i]instant[/i]!" Her voice was broken and higher than usual. Vincent had rarely seen her make such a face in public, especially around him. But, as he looked past her and saw Balbys holding a facade as stiff as concrete while inwardly frothing at the mouth---he could tell because he remembered that, every time the man started grinding the toe of one shoe against the ground, that Vincent would be belted as soon as the coast was clear---he realized something:

He had been sent back to the past, and yet [i]he[/i] was not the same. A mind that had learned, for the sake of survival, to think quickly and to seize on every opening no matter how unfair or underhanded, began to spin.

"...I'm so, [i]so[/i] sorry, dear, lovely Mother---[i]please[/i] forgive me." Bringing his bare heels together---[i]goddammit, my pajamas are shortpants too!?[/i]---and placing one hand over his heart, he bowed deeply at the waist as he composed himself. "But please, let me explain why I couldn't help my shameful outburst!" For a moment, Amabilia's considerable chest heaved as she caught her breath. Then, she turned towards Balbys...and as her eyes narrowed, she nodded at Vincent.

"...Yes, please, [i]do[/i] give an account for your behavior!" Her posh accent was fully back in control now. As the butler stepped forward, mouth on the verge of opening, she held up a palm to silence him. "And tell me, [i]Vincent[/i], what is it you claim to have heard Balbys say?"

[i]Well, technically, he never said it around [b]me[/b].[/i] Head still bowed, Vincent grinned wickedly. [i]But I damn sure know he's let it slip amongst [b]other[/b] company by now.[/i] Because boys would always be boys, even as men sitting around the bar and saying things they thought would remain in confidence; and those men had little brothers who bullied even younger boys in the schoolyard. Sherry had never wanted for enemies---but she had never been as easy a target as her younger sibling.

"Of course, Mother!" He smiled sweetly as he raised his head, willing a childlike blush to come to his cheeks. As he did so, he reached towards a tall wooden wardrobe. 

[i]I'm [b]still[/b] not wearing those godforsaken shorts.[/i]