The Epic of the Discarded Son-Chapter 55: Blessing

"That’s basically it," Shiro said, just as he finished giving Nora the summary of where he was up to in the diary.

Luca stepped in front of them.

He tilted his head back and blinked. Then blinked again. Then gave up and just stared, because apparently his brain needed a second to accept what his eyes were telling him.

This wasn’t the usual Luca. Not the Luca who was perpetually too busy juggling multiple girls to remember any of their names—the one who always smelled like he’d walked through a perfume store during a small explosion.

The Luca he knew would rather admire his own reflection in a spoon than notice someone drawing a weapon behind him. The Luca he knew had once tried to kill Shiro because a single drop of blood almost landed on his jacket.

No. This was a mature, responsible version of Luca. The kind who showed up when things got serious and actually handled them. The kind Shiro wouldn’t mind admitting he respected—even if the words tasted like sand on the way out.

The kind who almost—and Shiro hated admitting this, even inside his own head—reminded him of Richard.

Which was concerning. Because if Luca was acting like Richard, something was wrong with the universe. Possibly on a galaxy level. Possibly worth investigating later, assuming the universe survived the next five minutes.

"You two stay here. Don’t go anywhere. Get the ship ready to move."

Then Luca turned to Nora.

"Listen, Nora. Remember what I taught you?"

She gave Luca a blank look. The kind of blank look that said she had no idea what he was talking about. None. Zero. Not a flicker of recognition anywhere on her face.

And she wasn’t the only one. Shiro was even more confused than she was, which was an accomplishment, considering he wasn’t even the one being addressed.

And that changed pretty quickly.

Luca pulled him aside, leaned in close, and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.

"If she hesitates—Shiro, please take control of the ship."

A small pause. A smile. A warm, genuine smile—the kind Shiro had never seen before. And especially not on the face of the guy who, not that long ago, had actively tried to kill him.

And at that exact moment, Shiro became absolutely convinced that the real Luca had been kidnapped, replaced, and possibly dismembered somewhere offscreen.

"Take care of her."

Shiro stared at Luca. Eyes squinting. Deeply, deeply suspicious of whoever this person standing in front of him actually was. All he could manage in response was a blank expression, because his brain was still trying to run a full diagnostic on what had just happened.

And with that weird, out-of-character act, Luca turned and sprinted toward the dense forest like a man on a mission to save the world.

Shiro, still extremely confused and more than a little suspicious, wandered back toward Nora while turning Luca’s words over in his head, trying to squeeze some kind of sense out of them.

"What did he say?" Nora asked. Though "asked" was generous—it was closer to a demand.

Shiro just shrugged.

"I think the real Luca got kidnapped and replaced with whoever that guy was."

He paused.

"Also, I’m pretty sure he just gave me his blessing."

He sat down next to her, one knee up, leaning back against the ship.

"I like him. He’s cool. Though getting a blessing from your crush feels weird—I was kind of expecting it from your dad. But hey, I’ll take whatever I can get."

And, as always, his mouth earned him an elbow to the ribs.

"Ow. That stings."

"Oh, shut up. You’ve survived worse," she said quietly.

"That is true," he chuckled.

She leaned into him, her head settling onto his shoulder like it had done this many times before. Like it belonged there and always had.

"I don’t know. I’ve got mixed feelings."

"About—?"

And that, predictably, earned him another elbow to the ribs.

"You know what I mean."

Rubbing the spot, Shiro tried again. "So he told you?"

"Yeah."

"Ah. How much did he tell you?" he asked carefully—mostly to make sure he didn’t accidentally blurt out something extra that would only make things worse.

That earned him another elbow. Except this time, he saw it coming and blocked it with the back of his hand.

Nora froze. Looked down at her blocked elbow. Looked back up at him.

"Who said," she asked slowly, "that you could block it?"

"My rib did," Shiro said, with the full confidence of a man who had absolutely no leg to stand on. "I heard a crack. It said ’block it.’ Very clearly. Almost sounded like it was begging, honestly. Who am I to ignore my own ribcage?"

That actually seemed to lighten the mood. Slightly.

It wasn’t a smile, exactly—just a small twitch at the corner of her lip. But it was better than nothing.

"Don’t block it again," she muttered.

Shiro sighed the sigh of a man who already knew he had lost this particular war and was only negotiating the terms of his surrender.

"Fine. I’ll move to the other side." He shrugged. "The left side hasn’t been getting any attention today. It’s going to start feeling left out. And I can’t live with that kind of rib-related inequality on my conscience."

He got up, shuffled around her, and sat back down on her left. And without missing a beat, her head dropped onto his shoulder again.

"He told me everything. How my mother died. His involvement with the masked man. And... that night."

’Oh.’

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense. A lot of things.

The wandering. The restlessness. The way she’d been trying to keep herself busy with anything—literally anything—to avoid sitting still with her thoughts. The distant, almost cold way she’d been acting toward Richard ever since he’d interrupted their sunrise moment. And the way Richard hadn’t been able to look her in the eye once the whole trip.

It wasn’t distance for distance’s sake. It was the kind of distance you put between yourself and someone when you didn’t know what to do with the feelings yet. When you weren’t ready to forgive them, but you weren’t ready to walk away either.

That in-between space where love and hurt shared the same room and neither one wanted to sit down.

She went quiet. The kind of quiet that wasn’t really silence—more like the sound of someone trying to process too much information all at once and running out of room to put it.

"How are you still okay with helping him?" she asked finally. Her voice was small. "Aren’t you angry? For everything he put you through?"

Shiro thought for a moment. Carefully. Slowly. Trying to find the right words—the kind that wouldn’t accidentally make things worse. Because he had a gift for making things worse, and this was not the moment to flex it.

"For what?" he said finally. "Honestly, I think you’re overthinking this. Yeah, I should be mad. Part of me probably still is. But..." He paused. "He’s a father who lost his wife. And you’re the last fragment of your mother he has left. The only thing in his life that still reminds him of the woman he loved."

A light, tired chuckle.

"The guy’s been through a lot already. And the last thing he needs is the one person still holding his miserable little world together to walk out on him."

She didn’t say anything.

Instead, he heard a soft sniff.

Then another.

Then a slight wetness on his shoulder that spread slowly—the kind of crying that happened when someone had been holding it in for too long and finally let go in a place that felt safe.

He pulled her head up gently and sat down in front of her, close enough that their knees touched. Cupped her cheeks in his palms and wiped her tears away with his thumbs, slow and careful—like she might break if he moved too fast.

"Remember that night?" he said softly. "When you asked if I would’ve killed you if you’d stepped in front of me with the captain and the lieutenant?"

A small smile tugged at his mouth. Tired.

"I thought about it. For a long time. But after that night—after that night where I thought I might lose you—Nora..."

His eyes held hers.

"I would’ve cut my own arms off before my dagger ever reached you."

The smile widened. And kept widening. Until it didn’t look like a smile anymore—it looked like a warning. The kind that should’ve made her pull away. The kind that should’ve scared her, but didn’t.

"What Richard did was nothing," he said quietly. "Just a father doing what he can to protect the only thing that gives his life meaning."

He pressed his forehead to hers until there was nothing left between them but a breath. She had nowhere to look but at him—and when he spoke again, his voice was low enough that only she could hear it.

"But Nora, if anything—anything—were to ever happen to you... I would drown this entire island in the blood of the clan. And I wouldn’t stop until every last piece of it sank to the bottom of the ocean."

She lifted her forehead off his. Before Shiro could figure out what the look on her face meant—before he could even open his mouth to ask—her fist drove into his stomach.

Hard.

"Aren’t we supposed to be reading the diary?" she said softly. "About the man who lived in your head rent-free. Who also—and correct me if I’m wrong—happens to be your older brother?"

"Yeah..." Shiro wheezed, folded halfway over. "As soon as I can... catch my breath."