//------------------------------// // Kuja Day Seven: The Discussion // Story: To Live Again // by _No_One_Remains_ //------------------------------// This is beginning to irritate me, honestly. I was hoping by now my energy would’ve returned to me. Alas, that isn’t the case. I’ve been locked in this room for a full week, and I’m still not able to stand on my own two feet. I’ve learned a small bit of information about the history of these creatures, as well as received some interesting books on the mysterious force I considered to be a variation of Mist. Sheriff Braeburn has been in multiple times over the week, teaching me new things about the town and its residents. He’s explained enough of the pony anatomy and the way Equestria works that I feel I should have no trouble adjusting. That is, of course if I can regain my ability to function properly. I imagine Garland is laughing his ass off in the other world, seeing me disabled like this… Alas, I cannot get out of this bed. Despite my attempts, and the Black Mages’ assistance, I have been unable to gather the strength necessary to stand, let alone walk. I can only hope this doesn’t last much longer. I’m beginning to get restless, and if I don’t manage some sort of variation in my routine, I may snap earlier than I would like. That’s correct—Mr. 33—I’m on the verge of snapping already. At any rate, Braeburn and I had a very delightful discussion earlier today, the first notable encounter since my arrival in Equestria. Although his accent makes him seem uneducated and savage, he’s actually a very intelligent equine. I’m glad to see that at least someone in this world can carry on sophisticated conversation with me. It made the situation much more bearable when he dismissed the Black Mages from my room. We had a discussion unhindered by the presence of other creatures. … He arrived early in the morning, at just around sunrise. I couldn’t help but find it strange how he was out and about so early. He entered the room, and before either mage could greet him, he nodded toward the door. Without hesitation or reply, Mr. 33 and Mr. 111 both exited in haste. I began to get nervous, not knowing where this turn of events could be going. Braeburn approached the side of my bed and nodded at me. He sighed, “Howdy Mr. Kuja. I see ya still ain’t up to snuff.” He pulled the curtains open over the window, letting the surprisingly bright sunlight into the room. “How very observant of you Mr. Braeburn. I suppose you’re going to tell me that I’m not a pony like yourself next.” I scoffed at the westernized pony, slightly disgusted by his thick accent and lack of grammar. The golden-colored pony chuckled, “Now there ain’t a need to get smart, Kuja. I don’t mean to offend ya or anything.” I sighed, “Forgive my rudeness. I’m simply under the weather, as it would be. I have been bedridden for a week and have barely recovered at all.” I had no personal quarrel with the friendly stallion, and as such had no reason to be rude. That being said, my condition limited my patience to a dangerous level. “S’alright sir. Ya got just about every reason to be upset, as far as I can see.” He carried Mr. 111’s chair from the other side of the room to the side of my bed and took a seat. I decided to prepare myself for an extensive interrogation. I raised an eyebrow at his comment and asked, “What do you mean by that, Mr. Braeburn?” He didn’t know me to any extent, aside from what the Black Mages may have told him. How could he decide how reasonable my mood was? He tilted his hat to the side of his head and said, “Well, if I’m to believe what them Black Mages say, then I suppose you’ve had a mild case of death in the last week or so. I also hear you were a nasty fella back in your old place.” He smiled slyly at me, almost as if he had won some kind of game. I shook my head and groaned, “One shouldn’t be too quick to believe what he hears about another. Though in this case, you would be correct. I have indeed stared death in the face, and it was I who blinked.” His sly grin grew slightly at my confession. “I figure that’d make anypony useless for a bit.” He leaned back in his chair, shifting to a more comfortable position. “And a useless pony’s a mad pony, ain’t he?” I pondered that for a few seconds. It was such a simple philosophy, but, looking back on my life in Gaia, it was a true one. I chuckled, “I suppose you are correct, Braeburn. So what is it you wished to speak to me about?” He dropped his smile and adopted a more serious expression. “Them Black Mages, sparing no detail, have told me all about your little escapades back in your world. You got one heckuva death toll on your shoulders…” I could tell from his eyes that he wasn’t telling me this to be informative. I could see a fire in his eyes, faint and lukewarm, but still existent. I shifted slightly in my bed, just enough to actually talk to him face to face. I sighed, “That is correct. I have killed, directly or not, thousands of innocent individuals in my previous life. I won’t try to hide that fact. I went so far as to destroy an entire world in a berserk rage.” I paused here to see his reaction; he barely even blinked. I continued, “However, in the very last moments of my life, I was taught what it truly meant to live, and how precious a life can be. My wrongdoings can never be forgiven, but I can try to make amends.” After a few seconds of intense staring, the pony cracked a smile. He relaxed his muscles and chuckled, “Well, ya gotta chance to do that, I s’pose. You’re alive now; all you gotta do is get better.” His reaction took me by surprise. I expected him to call me a psycho and cast me out of his town, even with my disability. Instead, he openly offered me a second chance. I asked, “You aren’t afraid of me attempting to do the same thing here as in the other world?” I simply couldn’t believe how easily he’d cast out all of my evil deeds. “O’ course I’m scared of ya, because I know what ya can do. But…uh…ain’t that what trust is for?” He scratched his head under the front of his hat, a sheepish smile gracing his features. My jaw physically dropped. I genuinely couldn’t understand his way of thinking at this point. I groaned, “You’re going to give your trust to a complete stranger with a proven past of homicidal tendencies?” “Shucks no, partner! I’m givin’ my trust to a guy that wants to make up for what he’s done. And ya gotta start somewhere, right? Them Black Mages don’t trust ya yet, but I’m all for lettin’ ya stay around.” He smiled and placed a hoof on my shoulder, his eyes shining with an essence similar to hope. He was too trusting of me. It disturbed me slightly. I chuckled, “I will do everything in my power to ensure your trust is not misplaced, Braeburn. However, in my current state, ‘everything in my power’ is not a lot…” I raised one hand high in front of me, attempting to stretch it. Sadly, it fell limp on the bed after a few seconds. My lack of energy was frightening me. “Have ya been eating anything?” my companion asked, turning back toward the stairs. I shook my head and sighed, “Not quite. I’ve eaten a slice of bread or two, but nothing substantial. I’ve been unable to keep my stomach’s contents down…as Mr. 111 will duly note if you ask him about my health.” It was true. I hadn’t eaten anything since my arrival in town. Everything I did eat ended up gracing my bed mere minutes later. Braeburn placed a hoof to his muzzle for a few moments, consumed in his thoughts. Just when I was going to snap him out of his delirium, he tossed his hat in the air with a cheer. He whooped, “I gotcha covered Mr. Kuja!” In shock I snapped back, “How?!” The annoyance was blatantly obvious in my voice, and for that I was disappointed. His outburst was just…slightly unnerving. He settled down, recovered his hat, and laughed, “My Granny makes a mean energy cider! If you ain’t better before I get it delivered, this thing’ll perk ya right up!” I tried to wrap my head around his excited chatter. “An energy cider? Like a potion?” Potions, the most common items in Gaia, were the only things I could think of that would help me recover. As far as I knew, they didn’t exist here. I could’ve been wrong. Braeburn chuckled, “I dunno about a potion, but it’ll get ya back on your feet in no time.” The thought of finally being rid of this bed was amusing. I asked, “Would you mind delivering it? Furthermore, would she mind brewing it?” “O’ course not! My Granny makes the best cider in all of Equestria. It’s what she does. Heck, she owns the biggest apple orchard with the freshest apples. Ships all over the kingdom!” His eyes were glowing with joy at the thought of being able to help me. Either it was being able to help me, or he simply adored his grandmother… To be polite, I asked, “The best in the kingdom, you say? Care to tell me about it?” The golden stallion plopped back in his chair and cheered, “O’ course I would, partner!” He settled in and began the tale of the apple orchard north of Appleloosa, beyond the Everfree Forest. I listened intently as he told me extensive history of the Apple Family. Their ancestors settled north of the Everfree Forest, planting seeds they’d found within the forest. In the uncultivated land, they grew a massive orchard, which was eventually named Sweet Apple Acres. A small town grew around the orchard, attracted by the business of the Acres. That line of the Apple Family has lived in the town since its settlement, with Braeburn’s Granny Smith being the current owner of the farmstead. “The next in line to own the place are my cousins Big Macintosh and Applejack. And boy howdy can they make some delicious ciders! Granny Smith’s will have ya leaping from roof to roof in no time!” As he finished telling his tale, the sun began to set. We said our farewells, and he was gone. A few minutes later, the Black Mages returned, curious as to what transpired to keep Braeburn holed up for the entire day. I told them a few minute details of our discussion, but kept most of the important bits to myself. They had no business knowing our business. … Of course, now that I’ve written it out, Mr. 33 knows the whole story. I figure he’ll wait until I go to sleep before he transfers the information to his companion, which is fine by me. So there it is. I’ve stayed here for a whole week, wishing nothing more than to regain my health. Now, Braeburn has given me hope for a beverage that will do just that. I can only hope his grandma’s cider is as potent as he leads me to believe. For now, I’ll just have to wait for it to arrive. This should be a fun endeavor, waiting for the clock to tick away until I may be able to leave this dull room. Funny…my fate rests with the clock, just as Zidane’s friends’ did in my Desert Palace… The powers-that-be must have a sense of humor…