To Live Again

by _No_One_Remains_

Kuja Day Thirty: Another Recovery

“Well, that’s a mite bit of a bushel o’ bad apples…”

That voice! Braeburn?

How long had I been out? I felt weak, almost completely drained. I didn’t even know where I was. I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t form syllables. I could only lay there in a confused paralysis. I could hear the comforting voices of the country stallion and the orange mare from the farm. There was another voice…gentle and caring, yet with a stern undertone.

“He hasn’t left his friend’s…resting place…since the attack. I’m concerned for his health, but he refuses to let anypony near the…remains.” The gentle voice was filled with concern, assumedly a medical pony. Who else would care about the health of random monsters intruding in their town?

Braeburn’s voice served as a beacon that led me to consciousness. I’d grown familiar with it over the course of my stay in Appleloosa, and it helped me break free from my mental prison. “I’ll go talk to him, but I can’t promise nothin’. Them Black Mages are some stubborn mules, I’ll tell ya.” I heard the trotting of hooves approach me. A knocking on the door helped seal my awakening.

I felt as if I’d been crushed under the weight of a mountain for the last month. My muscles felt like rubber, my bones brittle and sore. The second my eyes opened, a splitting headache enveloped my mind. It felt as if a manticore were ripping my skull apart.

Manticore! The Everfree Forest!

Mr. 33…

“How ya holdin’ up, partner?” Braeburn’s voice drew me back from the brink of tears. The thought of 33’s fate still ate at me, but at least I wasn’t in a semi-controllable Trance.

I opened my mouth to speak, but found no sound would come out. A white mare with a flowing pink mane stepped up to the bedside and explained, “He’s been under a significant amount of trauma recently. I wouldn’t expect his body to work properly for another few weeks.”

A few weeks? Damn my muteness! If I could only cast one little spell, I could—

“Nonsense, Redheart! If ya can just get his voice workin’ he’ll be good in no time!” The stallion grinned cockily at the nurse as if he knew something she didn’t.

Which he obviously did. He knew I could use restorative magic…but how? I’d never used it before the manticore attack. Unless one of the witnesses told him about the healed wounds, there would be no way for him to know I had that kind of power. Something felt off about the whole thing.

The nurse scoffed angrily, “How do you figure that? This man has needed intense medical care for the past two weeks. I doubt his voice will be able to help him.” She fluffed my pillow and pushed a button on a small medical machine before turning back toward the door.

Braeburn scratched his forehead just under the brim of his hat, considering his words carefully. He chuckled sheepishly, “This ain’t a normal fella, Redheart. He ain’t as weak as some o’ us. I saw him use some magic back when he first showed up in Appleloosa that’d put Celestia to shame.” He blushed, realizing that what he said was big talk compared to the situation at hand.

But this Celestia person…sounds important. His hesitancy to say her name in that context piqued my curiosity. Sadly, I had no way to quell that thirst for knowledge.

The nurse turned on her hooves and sent the stallion a death-glare that sent a shiver up my spine. She snapped, “Do you have any clue what you’re saying?”

“O’ course I do! I got to see what this fella could do with my own eyes!”

When I first showed up in Appleloosa…I used magic? Why didn’t I remember anything like that? I was bedridden my entire first two weeks of Equestrian life, with barely the energy to lift my arms. How could I have used magic…and on whom? That would be a conversation piece for the next time the sheriff and I were alone.

Nurse Redheart considered the stallion’s stubborn claims. She conceded, “We’ll give it a shot. Help his voice recover and he’ll handle the rest, huh?”

“Eyup, and that’s what Granny’s cider is for!” Out of seemingly nowhere he obtained a bottle of the disgusting-smelling cider that helped me recover from my original disability. Before I could react—had I been able to—the cider was flowing down my throat into my empty stomach. In the instant, I felt the effects blanket my illness.

The moment the bottle was removed from my face I let out an audible gagging noise, expressing my distaste for the concoction. The mare stared at me in disbelief. I simply chuckled, “Thank you, Braeburn. I appreciate your proactivity in acquiring more cider…”

“T’aint a problem, fella! Now, if ya wanna fix yourself up right quick we can get that friend o’ yours on the road to recovery.” He placed a comforting hoof on my shoulder, aware of the events that transpired at the edge of the forest. I could see the sympathy in his eyes and feel the sadness in his touch. He hadn’t been responsible for the mage’s death, but he’d grown fond of the naïve fool.

I shook the dazed thoughts from my head, wanting to go back to that day and protect the mages. I sighed, “Cura.” It took several seconds longer than before, but my wounds were deeper and more severe. A white light danced around my body, and before Redheart could find the words to question me, I was out of the bed and testing my limits.

She stammered, “But…I…how… What?”

The stallion plopped a hoof onto her back and whistled, “Told ya, Redheart. He ain’t like us ponies. His magic puts Celestia to shame.”

Once the light finished its dance, I turned toward the door with determination. For the first time in two weeks, I felt like a new Genome. I advanced to the exit, stopped only briefly by Braeburn shoving his way past me through the threshold. The nurse was left speechless in place, simply amazed by my magical prowess that apparently surpassed even this Celestia person.

I took the opportunity to bring up my prior question. “You said I used magic when I first got to Appleloosa.”

“Eyup.”

“What kind of magic? Who’d I use it on? I could barely talk, if you remember.”

“Mr. 33 got cut up something fierce by a sandstorm while they was draggin’ ya back to town. Ya used that magic on him before ya passed out on the hospital bed.”

I…healed 33 with my little remaining energy? It was because I healed his wounds that I ran out of power and was bedridden for two weeks. I… Even before I was aware of it, I was protecting people. But the man I protected was dead. The entirety of my stay in Equestria had been nothing but a cruel irony of fate.

I wasn’t even certain where I was walking. After a certain point, I simply fell in line behind Braeburn and let him guide me wherever we were going. He didn’t try to make conversation; he let me wallow in my thoughts. It wasn’t until we reached the tattered remains of Sweet Apple Acres that he even opened his mouth.

“The fella’s still out back, cuz. He ain’t lookin’ so hot.” The orange mare—thinking back to a previous exchange between myself and Braeburn, I found her name to be Applejack—trotted around the farmhouse and greeted her cousin with a tip of her hat.

He tipped his hat back and sighed, “I didn’t figure he would. He just lost a close friend that was—”

“Brother,” I snapped. “33 was 111’s brother. Hell, if you want to be technical, he was my son.” The metaphor sent my emotions twisting in my mind. I fought to hold them back.

“Whatcha mean there, partner?” The stallion looked surprised by the sudden comparison.

I started walking blankly toward where Mr. 33 had perished. Sure enough, Mr. 111 was still there, knelt down by his remains in mourning. Two weeks later and he hadn’t moved an inch. Devotion to a fallen brother…is commendable but foolish. If another beast had attacked, the strong mage would’ve been a guaranteed bulls-eye. I started to talk to no one in particular as I approached the remaining mage. The two members of the Apple family followed me, curious to hear what I had to say.

“In my previous life, I was evil. I was created by a desperate man in the hopes of restoring to him what he had once lost. I was created to hurt and kill others. That was my sole purpose. And, to make my job easier, I began to manufacture soldiers that would do the killing in my stead. Those soldiers were the Black Mages you’ve come to know. Mr. 33 and 111 are examples of Mark I mages. They were of the original quality.

“But there were other variations of mages, mind you. Mark IIs were meant to live longer than the Mark Is, but they required many more resources to create, and therefore were not produced en masse. In fact, only one was successfully finished due to the rushed nature of the manufacturing process. This finished Mark II eventually became a sentient creature, who decided to work for the good guys and fight my cause. Everyone called him Vivi.

“There were three Mark IIIs produced. They were defective killing machines, and were easily conquered by Vivi’s companions. In short, I created every single Black Mage you might ever meet. They are my children, and they are all brothers and sisters. I can’t tell you which is worse, honestly: knowing that I let my child die, or knowing that I’m letting Mr. 111 suffer alone through the loss of his closest brother.”

I was at the living mage’s side by the time my rant ended. He never once looked away from the tattered jacket that was his brother’s garment. He didn’t even respond to my use of his name. The ponies behind me decided it best to remain silent, as there was no chance of them understanding how I felt. They couldn’t understand his pain, either. I could tell through the silence that their inability to comfort us hurt them, but I was too preoccupied with the mage on the ground.

Minutes passed in silence as a faint breeze blew in from the Everfree Forest. It was eerily comforting, considering what the forest had done to us. It destroyed Applejack’s home, stole 111’s brother, and revealed me to be a monster to the citizens of Ponyville. But perhaps that was all just fate playing its course…

“Let’s get him back to ol’ Appleloosa, then we can give him a proper good-bye.” At some point during my thoughts, Braeburn had approached the mourning Black Mage.

“…Okay…”

We all found ourselves in shock as the mage finally responded to something. Applejack was the most surprised, having tried to coax him out of his stupor for the previous two weeks. She mumbled, “Ain’t that one stubborn mule…”

He stood up from the ground, dirt caked onto his knees. I couldn’t help but chuckle, “If you’d stayed there much longer, perhaps you could have served as the tombstone…”

“We are not your children.”

I can’t explain why, but I felt as if I’d been stabbed through the heart with a flaming blade. Mr. 111’s blunt retort sent my mind spiraling. The metaphor I had made hadn’t been literal, and yet it still felt as if I were being denounced by my own kin. I stared blankly at him, willing him to continue speaking. I wasn’t aware of how to respond to his tone.

“We are not your children,” he repeated painfully. “You manufactured us to kill, and when we refused to do so you bribed us with empty promises of extended lives. Even in the face of death, Mr. 33 and I followed our hearts and hatched Bobby Corwen. While our brothers went to war with you and died in the battle at the Iifa Tree, we stayed behind to give a life back to the world we had stolen life from.

“Does the phrase ‘equivalent exchange’ mean anything to you, Kuja?” He turned to look me dead in the eyes. I could see his golden glow had faded over the weeks. Something was wrong with him.

I bowed my head and groaned, “Of course it does. To gain something, you must give something of equal value. That is how we puppets were created.”

The two ponies simply watched as 111’s clenched fist crashed hard into my jaw. I tumbled backwards to the ground, unwilling to retaliate. I could feel the anger in his attack. I could hear the sorrow in his grunt. I was fully prepared for him to continue the assault.

Instead he simply fell back to his knees and sighed, “To gain a life, a life must be given. Sometimes, you pay the price long before you reap the benefits. You’ve had the vision, I assume.” He looked into my eyes and I immediately knew what he meant.

“The one about the Prima Vista and Lord Avon’s play?”

“Correct,” he spat. “When the King dies, the Dark Matter is given birth. In some cases, the benefits are given before the price is paid.”

I shook my head in confusion. This wasn’t making sense. Where had it all come from out of nowhere? “What are you getting at, Mr. 111?”

“Vivi was on the stage. Both physically and spiritually, he was there. He was real amongst the illusions. So were you. In my vision, Mr. 33 was not present at all.” He took a moment to collect his thoughts. “I had my vision the day we found you in the desert. When we found you, I knew it had been more than a dream.”

The realization of what he was saying came crashing down on me. “You…don’t mean that…he…” I could feel the rage beginning to boil in my gut. If what he was saying was true, then how could I ever forgive myself?

“He was the price paid for Vivi’s life.”

In an instant, my rage evaporated. My jaw dropped. I let out an unwilling, “Say that again?”

The mage raised his head, and instead of the faded yellow of his eyes I saw a hopeful golden glow. He chuckled, “The only way for Vivi to be in our dream was to be here with us! Mr. 33 was the price we had to pay to bring him here! And…you know that we need him.” Had this been his mindset over the last two weeks? Had he spent his solitude mapping this entire scenario out and putting the puzzle that I had been blind to see together? If he was correct, then perhaps I would be able to speak with the mage to whom I owed a great apology.

“How can you be so sure about all of this?”

“Because I’ve seen Bobby Corwen! Or at least what I think was Bobby Corwen!” The mage leaped to his feet and bounced with joy, somewhat disturbing considering his proximity to his brother’s remains.

I couldn’t help but let out an uncharacteristic, “Huh?”

“The little chocobo ran off into the forest a few hours ago! I heard his cute little ‘kweh’! And then Applejack’s two Pegasus friends went in to look for the source of the sound!” He bounced from one foot to the other in excitement, and I could’ve sworn I saw a smile on his non-existent face.

“Wha-huh?” Applejack perked up at the mention of her name. “You’re tellin’ me Rainbow Dash went lookin’ for some random bird?”

“Well, she ‘wasn’t gonna let Fluttershy go in that death trap alone’.” The mage took the liberty of adding some air quotations to his explanation. In the span of less than ten minutes, the air around Mr. 33’s remains went from sad to hopeful. I can’t say I disliked the shift.

Braeburn chuckled, “Well shucks, I guess t’ain’t all bad, then! But if you’re gonna meet your friend, ya sure ya wanna look like death rolled over?” The stallion examined both of us intently, taking in the dirt and blood and sweat that stained our garments.

Mr. 111’s jacket was tattered and falling to pieces, which wasn’t good considering exactly what it was hiding from the public eye. I don’t think a giant human-shaped glob of pure shadow would receive much acceptance, even here in Equestria…

“We’ll take Mr. 33’s remains back to Appleloosa. After we get everything settled and our persons in order, we’ll return to see if our friend is truly here.” I walked toward the tattered clothes scattered on the ground and began to gather them up in my arms.

Mr. 111 asked, “If you wouldn’t mind, you would please not tell Vivi about any of this?”

I stopped in place. Something about his request seemed rational, yet at the same time I couldn’t see why he would want to hide the past weeks’ events from one of his brothers.

Applejack nodded and sighed, “Ya mean about your brother and the whole glowing pink mess? I s’pose I can cover for ya if I need to.” She quickly added, “But I ain’t about to lie to the fella if it comes down to it.”

I finished gathering the last remaining fabric of clothing and rejoined the discussion. “If he asks about us, you have the right to tell him what you know. He’ll take what he hears with a grain of salt. But if it comes down to specifics, simply tell him we all returned to Appleloosa.” I raised my hands, drawing attention to the garments in them. “You won’t be lying, even in the case of Mr. 33. The child doesn’t need to know that the mage is no longer with us…or why that is so.”

The orange mare nodded in understanding. Lowering her gaze to the ground, she sighed, “I s’pose I get that. Seeing how y’all handled it, it’d probably be worse for a kid.”

“Let’s get goin’, fellas. I got some chores for y’all to handle before ya head back this way!” Braeburn flashed us a smile that seemed to outshine the midday sun.

We said our farewells and apologies to the ponies we passed, leaving it to Applejack to spread the word of our request around town. The pink pony I had seen with the Apple family mare the day of the incident seemed particularly ticked off that we hadn’t even been able to ‘have a welcome to town party’, on account of our near-death and comatose states. And, with the railroad cleared of bandits by not only us but a following sweep of Appleloosan militia members, we decided to ride the train back to the westernized town.

…

I can’t tell you how hard it is to remember all of the things that have happened since my last chance to write. The march to Ghastly Gorge, the fight with Brawny and the Diamond Dogs, the zebra in the Everfree Forest, my dream, and the day of the incident all seem so long ago. They are only two weeks old, but it is hard to recall all of the thoughts and feelings associated with most of the events.

It doesn’t help that every time I write Mr. 33’s name I feel a prick of sadness in the back of my head…

But now we’re heading back to the town that I have come to call my Equestrian home. I find it funny to think that in either of the two settlements I’ve been to, I’ve spent at least a week bedridden. Over half of my time in this world has been spent in pain or weariness.

Braeburn told us we have some chores to handle in town, and then he’ll have a ‘delivery’ to make back in Ponyville. I don’t quite understand why we need a special excuse to visit the town, but at least it will give us a chance to see if Mr. 111’s puzzle-solving skills are accurate.

I’m actually eager to meet not only Vivi, but this Bobby Corwen chocobo he keeps rambling on about.

Applejack is supposed to send us word if it truly is Vivi.

Equivalent exchange is what my companion called it, and maybe it is.

I always wanted to take the reins of my own destiny. When I was created by Garland to destroy Gaia, I wanted to usurp control and do it of my own volition. But it seems obvious that fate has a stronger grip than I do on those reins. Only time will tell how things will play out, I suppose…

Comments

[Kaille]

You know, I got to get around to finding a copy of this version of Final Fantasy. I am waaaaay behind in my exploits in the world of FF.

[Dirty Bit]

Mr. 111's episode really did have that disturbing notion when he changed his tune in a matter of ten minutes. But I suppose that's despair for you, even if he did maintain a background of genuine hope shortly after.

[Starlight Nova]

Shouldn't the "other" tag be highlighted, for Kuja and Vivi?

[_No_One_Remains_]

2478131 Actually, in either the FAQ or some other site blog post, knighty explained this a long time ago.
The 'other' character tag is for ponies IN THE SHOW but not listed in the character choices. If it is a character from another place, as in a crossover, you do not tag them in the story's characters.

[_No_One_Remains_]

2484128 ...
...
...
Welp, I guess in this universe it's a tree.
Cause uh...yeah...
How the hell did I even mix that up...
Who was I even thinking of?

And why has no one else said anything about that?

[Greenfang Neverclear]

2485068 As i explained to him, the house is on top of a tree that was trimmed. Zecora proceeded to repair that tree, making this universe correct, you see. God dammit, I'm rhyming again. This curse really needs to end.