"Closure", Baccano! NaNoWriMo response
MUST POST LOVE FOR MAIZA. MAIZAAAA~~~
The poor guy is plagued with unresolved angst, so I was immediately overrun by plot bunnies the moment I got adakie's request. I love to write wide ranges of emotion, so lets see how deeply I can dig into Maiza's heart...
Character(s)/Pairing: Maiza (mentions; Gerd, Sylvie, Firo, Ennis, any one else you want really, pairings mentioned; GerdxSylvie, FiroxEnnis)
Genre: drama? whatever fits really ....
Rating: anything
Prompt: reflecting on the past and the present
Title: Closure
Characters: Maiza, Firo, Molsa, Czeslaw
Pairings: Gerd/Sylvie, Firo/Ennis
Genre: Drama/Angst/Fluff
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for certain details involving Firo's childhood and his initial connection to the Martillos, and episode 13.
Wordcount: 3623
Total Progress: 18796/50000 = 37.59% complete
Two hundred years after the fact, Maiza Avaro still sometimes woke in the morning suffering the same degree of sorrow and regret as he had the moment everything he had ever loved was taken from him due to his own selfish nature and foolish ideals. He had set the events that took the lives of his only brother and many of his friends into motion, and as a result of that, was forced to give up everything else that mattered just to cling on to his own tired existence, of which he doubted he still deserved yet was still very much afraid to surrender. He and his surviving friends scattered themselves across the globe and broke all contact with each other to prevent leaving clues and paper trails for their pursuer to use in tracking the rest of them down in the unfortunate event of being found. As for Maiza's hope to find a wonderful human to immortalize and help lead the world into an eternal age of peace and prosperity, it was abandoned once it became more than apparent that his involvement would just get the hypothetical individual killed that much more quickly rather than erasing their fear of death. Instead, Maiza sank into the deepest, darkest parts of human society that operated behind the scenes and outside of the law. Never before departing for America did he entertain the thought of becoming a criminal. Now, it was the only option remaining to him.
He considered himself lucky to find the Martillo family and join as their Controllo, but by this time, Maiza had sealed away his heart in a place no one could touch. Everyone in the organization had their secrets and did not pry into his own, even as the years wore suspiciously on, but in return, Maiza could not honestly think of them as true friends. He was friendly with them, of course, but couldn't bring himself to talk or act openly around them. And, denied entry to his tortured soul, none of them could do anything about his occasional lapse into melancholy. Maiza closed himself off from their concern and held them at arms length.
Perhaps he may have one day been able to forgive himself within a perfectly reasonable amount of time if he had been forced to face people who held knowledge of his sin on a daily basis, but the continuing threat had made that impossible and he feared their reactions upon seeing them again. Would they have realized whose fault it was that they were unable to live normally and without fear? Would they hate, blame, and ultimately reject him? Maiza could not stand to even think about it.
Two hundred years later, he was still haunted by Gerd's ghost. Every conversation he overheard between two brothers was a conversation that they had shared or could have enjoyed together. Every couple he passed on the street was Gerd and Sylvie as they had been together and every wedding and new family was what they could have been. He couldn't look in a mirror without wondering if his little brother might have grown to look more and more like him or if he might have also come to rely on glasses one day. At the worst of times, just the sight of a boy or man with brown hair twisted his heart, and he lived in ever present dread of meeting Sylvie again, feeling like he would suffer a public breakdown. It was my fault. I took him away from you. I took him away from both of us. He's gone forever and I am to blame. I'm sorry, Sylvie, I'm so sorry. On days like that, if it hadn't been for his continuous shameful human fear of death, Maiza was ready to go out and find Szilard himself. However, letting the full knowledge of the elixir fall into his hands was not something he could allow, knowing full well that he would only use it to kill even more for his personal gain.
It was on one of his better days that Maiza came across a young boy caked in dust and dirt fleeing from a raised voice, holding a loaf of bread tight against his worn, torn clothes with one arm. He looked nothing like Gerd and the difference in personality would prove greater still, but his slender form and dirty brown hair was enough to send him back in time to his childhood when he and Gerd played together, happy and laughing. There was no fear or such a thing as dying, only how fast they could run and the sun filling them with warmth and the soft grass between their toes and Maiza making fun of how Gerd always got so shy around Sylvie.
He managed to catch the boy by his sleeve, was surprised when it began to tear, and took him by the arm instead. The boy fought capture valiantly, trying to pull or kick himself away, shouting at the man to let go, but gave up the moment the winded baker caught up, and settled into a defiant glare, setting his jaw and making no movement or indication that he would give up the loaf. For the first time, Maiza was able to see and feel that the child was well on his way to becoming nothing but skin and bones.
"Thank you for catching him, sir," the baker said in gratitude once he had caught his breath. "It's unbelievable how young thieves start out these days."
The boy was outraged. "I'm not a thief! I've never stolen anything in my life! If anything, you're the thief, old man!"
Face tightening in anger as he raised a hand to strike the child, the baker began to shout, "Why, you little...!" before Maiza stepped a little closer, putting himself between the two.
"How much would that loaf of bread have sold for?" he asked, and dug inside his pocket for change before the bewildered baker offered him an answer. Maiza handed him a quarter, too much for a simple loaf of bread, but thought that it would probably be better to pay the man a little more for his trouble just to make sure he would be satisfied even without punishing the boy. "That's fine, isn't it? Now that the bread is paid for, you can get back to your other customers."
The baker stared up at him with wide eyes before narrowing them. "I'll give you a good warning: street rats like this one aren't worth the trouble." He glared at the boy, who glared straight on back. "If I ever see you near my bakery again, you won't walk away without a beating!"
"I'd like to see you try!" the kid shouted back, advancing slightly until Maiza held him back. "You'll get your fair share of scrapes and bruises!"
Snorting at the boy's bravado, the baker turned and left to return to his store without another word as the child seethed, staring after him. After he was satisfied, the kid looked up at Maiza defiantly, and held out the bread. "It isn't even worth the ten cents he charges for it," he said. "You ought to return it or at least follow him back to get your change."
A little baffled by the child's behavior, Maiza asked, "Why are you giving that to me?"
"You paid for it, didn't you? That means it's yours. Take it and let me go so I can grab another one, alright?"
Maiza chuckled a bit, releasing the kid's arm but didn't reach out to take the bread. The boy did not make a move, and only became impatient as his stomach began to growl. He raised a hand and ruffled the boy's hair like he had done to Gerd from time to time. "Didn't we just go through this? If you steal another loaf, it'll just happen all over again."
The boy shrugged away from his hand, frowning. "Didn't you hear me when I said I wasn't a thief? I swept that guy's storefront and he just told me to get lost. When he kept refusing to pay me, the only option I had was to take one of his loaves. That's fair, isn't it? Ten cents worth of bread for a chore that needed to be done? He didn't have to chase after me like that. It wasn't like I was the one who didn't pay him for his services."
Amazed with the boy's response, Maiza replied, "Is that so? In that case, I apologize for my interference. I completely misinterpreted the situation."
"I don't need an apology," the kid explained, raising the loaf higher. "Just hurry up and take your bread. I got it dirty, though, so you should just take it back and trade for another."
Maiza couldn't help but smile. "Why don't you just consider it a gift? I wasn't intending to buy the bread for myself, after all."
The boy stared up at him for a while, then brought the loaf back down, taking in a few mouthfuls to calm his protesting stomach before he said, "I owe you a quarter now, mister. I don't have any money on me, but I can work it off right away."
"There really is no need for that," Maiza replied, and pressed forward with a little hesitation. "Forgive me if I'm prying, but you live on the streets, don't you? Is there anyone taking care of you? It's hard to believe that you're on your own with such a refined sense of right and wrong."
The boy thinned his lips, lowered his face, and shook his head. "My father died when I was younger and we didn't have much money so my mother and I started living in the street after a while. She suddenly started getting sick too, just like Father did, so she taught me how to find work and I started learning how to fight so I could protect her because she just kept getting weaker. She died about a month ago, but before she went, she told me not to be sad because she was going to be with Father again and that they would both always watch out for me even if I couldn't see them. I know she said not to be sad, but I miss them both a lot."
"It's perfectly natural," Maiza replied, drifting back into thoughts of how he had failed his friends and Gerd, "to be sad. It's something we have to live through, even though we may never contain it or move on."
The boy didn't really understand Maiza's words, probably expecting something more encouraging or perhaps an attempt to make him smile, but was able to push his heartache aside as he took another bite from the loaf. "I'm still going to have to pay you back somehow, mister. Mother said that there isn't anything in the world that can be taken for free, since there's always a price in the end."
Maiza sighed, realizing that the kid had made up his mind. "Why don't you come with me for a little while? I'll see if I can find someone willing to take you in."
Immediately suspicious, the boy frowned. "I don't need to be taken in by anyone. I can take care of myself."
"Then at least let me provide a bath, new clothes, and some good food. If you're serious about repaying your debt, you'll need to be healthy and presentable to work, otherwise it will likely always end up like today," Maiza offered, turning back the way he had come, waiting for a reply.
The boy stared at him for a few seconds before following and they settled into a slow pace as he chewed on the loaf every now and then. "I don't really get it," he said. "Is there something you gain from doing this? If you buy me all that, I'll end up owing you a lot of money. Are you some kind of loan shark?"
"Something like that," Maiza replied, but to the kid's credit, if he was scared or disturbed, it didn't show on his face. "What's your name?"
"Firo Prochainezo," the boy replied, his grin betraying pride. "My father gave me that name."
After introducing himself in turn, Maiza led him back to the Alveare, where they met with Molsa Martillo and several other of the family's executives. It didn't take long for Firo to unintentionally charm his way into the hearts of everyone present, and it was decided that the family would raise him into adulthood together. Maiza was a little hesitant to accept that, especially when Firo insisted on working for them somehow, but he was reassured that the boy would not be exposed to any of the more dangerous or illegal activities, and would be granted a much more permanent residence in the future.
Molsa looked at him with an oddly amused smile, saying, "There are some things that children are able to do more easily than adults, after all." Maiza hadn't been able to decipher the true meaning behind his words at the time, especially since it was decided that Firo would start by helping out with cleaning and in the kitchens, but much later on, in reflection, he had to have been referring to how he had suddenly seemed so genuinely happy while Firo was close. It appeared that Maiza was the last to realize that he had acquired something of an adopted brotherly bond. The thought only increased his guilty conscience. Had he really been able to replace Gerd so easily? He was so disgusted with himself, but Firo quickly became attached to him, the rest of the executive staff, and found playmates in their allied family, the Gandors, who had also taken in an orphan to raise alongside their three sons. In the end, Firo didn't gain a permanent residence of his own until adulthood, and simply alternated sleeping arrangements between the Gandor residence and Maiza's place, staying with the other executives from time to time as well.
Nine years passed in the blink of an eye, but with Maiza's stopped time, everything else seemed to move faster than before. Firo, rejecting the multiple chances he was given to leave the family and pursue a lawful career, likely due to his continued insistence on paying back the Martillo family for all they had done for him, was promoted to the position of Camorrista shortly after his eighteenth birthday. The promotion party turned out to be much more eventful than planned, when Szilard finally managed to track him down after his newly discovered immortality elixir found its way into the glasses of the entire Martillo executive staff and the three Gandor brothers after a series of unlikely events. Thinking that he had gotten all of them killed, Maiza was nearly ready to simply let himself die, but he was saved when Szilard's homunculus suddenly rebelled, and Firo rose to the task of putting down the old man for good.
Once the action was over, Maiza, knowing that Gerd and the others were finally avenged, could still not rest in peace. He blamed himself for causing the horrendous curse of immortality to extend even further from its original tragedy, and was surprised when everyone affected only thought it to be a cause for celebration. He looked on in amazement while the more spirited of the bunch began to dance in joy, but his eyes were drawn to Firo standing beside Szilard's homunculus, Ennis, and realized that she was the woman Firo had told him about the day before, the one he'd been so infatuated with after such a brief meeting. With the two of them standing together like that, his mind was plagued once more with thoughts of Gerd and Sylvie and how they hadn't been allowed to stay happy together because of him. The only way to make up for that, he decided, was to stand guard over the happiness of Firo and Ennis, who wouldn't have existed if it wasn't for him. The deep pit of despair still ate at his heart, but it had become more manageable in the last decade.
It was a couple days later, once everything had calmed down and settled, that Firo approached him to speak about what had happened. For some reason, Maiza had forgotten the details surrounding the consumption of other immortals. Firo now carried within him the memories of Szilard and everyone he had ever eaten, including his very own little brother.
Stepping inside Maiza's private office and pulling the door closed behind him, Firo didn't know where to begin. "It never even crossed my mind that you haven't aged a day in the last nine years," he joked.
"Firo," Maiza replied, "I'm sorry about keeping everything in the dark, and I'm very grateful to you for putting this nightmare of mine to an end."
Apologies and thanks wasn't the reason for Firo's presence that day. "You've already said as much many times already," he sighed. "There's a bunch of important things I've got to tell you now that everything's out in the open."
Curious, Maiza wondered, "What is it, Firo?"
Firo took a seat and removed his hat, playing with its edges while he explained. "I don't think I ever told you how much I had always wanted to have a brother. I still remember being jealous of the neighborhood kids when my parents were still alive because they always had someone to play with even if they weren't allowed to go outside. After that, I thought that maybe I could somehow sneak myself into becoming another Gandor brother, but it didn't work out. For some reason, I could only think of them as friends. I couldn't figure it out for the longest time, but now I know for sure that it was because of you, Maiza. Ever since the day you found me on the street that time, I'd unconsciously adopted you in my heart as my older brother, and everybody else became something like uncles and grandfathers. In the end, the Camorra became my family."
His throat closing up, Maiza replied, "There was always something about you that felt like a little brother."
Putting his hat down on top of Maiza's desk, Firo grinned over at him a little sheepishly and said, "I'm glad you feel the same way, because I'm a little worried about how you're going to react to this next bit."
Without skipping a beat, Maiza told him, "There's nothing at all for you to worry about."
But still, Firo had to gather his courage before he managed to blurt out, "Gerd didn't blame you."
Maiza became very still, prompting Firo to continue on in explanation now that he had dropped the bomb.
"He didn't blame you at all. Not even for a second, Maiza. He loved you so much. I can feel it--it's the same feeling I have. He was sad to die and leave you and Sylvie, but he would have rather died than lose either of you. He died, choosing to believe that his death would keep you both safe, if even only for a few minutes longer. And, and the rest of the people who died during that day and after... I won't lie. Many of them regretted drinking the elixir, but they all understood that they had drank it of their own free will. None of them blamed you for providing it to them. They'd all been so grateful to you, Maiza, for making their last day so full of light and hope."
"Firo," Maiza choked out, rising from his seat and turning away.
"Did you think nobody would notice?" Firo asked, getting up to stand behind him. "Everyone was constantly worried about you, and the way you never really opened up to anyone. Why didn't you say anything? How many years did you suffer in silence like this? You never did anything wrong."
"It wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for me," Maiza insisted. "I brought this upon everyone."
"Everyone here would have stayed down after being shot dead if it wasn't for you, Maiza. It doesn't have to turn out the way it did last time. There's no one here that would do something like that. Not in this family." Firo clasped a hand on the taller man's shoulder, and started in surprise when Maiza suddenly whirled around to capture him in a crushing hug. "Ack! Maiza! That's a bit too tight even for our immortal brotherly bond!" he complained, but hugged back just the same, ignoring the tears that collected in his hair and spilled down his neck.
A year later, Maiza was finally ready to confront his fears and move on by contacting the first of the many survivors of 1711 and the later years of being hunted down. Czeslaw Meyer was as physically old as Firo when he had first met him, but within that small body was a greater tragedy. Not only had he been orphaned as a child, but Fermet, Maiza's friend, and the one who had taken Czeslaw in, had apparently lost his mind over the years, torturing the boy terribly until he finally fought back, eating him. Since then, Czeslaw had been unable to trust another living soul, much less his fellow immortals.
However, something big must have happened on the train because the Czeslaw that arrived was definitely not the Czeslaw he had been expecting. Rather, it seemed that he had already made a great deal of progress, judging from the way he was nearly immediately moved to tears shortly after they met again for the first time in over two hundred years.
While Czeslaw wept loudly against his torso, Maiza thought back to how cleansing it was to have finally been able to let go of all the sorrow and regret, knowing that Czeslaw was feeling very much the same. "It's all right," he told him, holding him tightly. "Everything is all right, now."
The poor guy is plagued with unresolved angst, so I was immediately overrun by plot bunnies the moment I got adakie's request. I love to write wide ranges of emotion, so lets see how deeply I can dig into Maiza's heart...
Character(s)/Pairing: Maiza (mentions; Gerd, Sylvie, Firo, Ennis, any one else you want really, pairings mentioned; GerdxSylvie, FiroxEnnis)
Genre: drama? whatever fits really ....
Rating: anything
Prompt: reflecting on the past and the present
Title: Closure
Characters: Maiza, Firo, Molsa, Czeslaw
Pairings: Gerd/Sylvie, Firo/Ennis
Genre: Drama/Angst/Fluff
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for certain details involving Firo's childhood and his initial connection to the Martillos, and episode 13.
Wordcount: 3623
Total Progress: 18796/50000 = 37.59% complete
Two hundred years after the fact, Maiza Avaro still sometimes woke in the morning suffering the same degree of sorrow and regret as he had the moment everything he had ever loved was taken from him due to his own selfish nature and foolish ideals. He had set the events that took the lives of his only brother and many of his friends into motion, and as a result of that, was forced to give up everything else that mattered just to cling on to his own tired existence, of which he doubted he still deserved yet was still very much afraid to surrender. He and his surviving friends scattered themselves across the globe and broke all contact with each other to prevent leaving clues and paper trails for their pursuer to use in tracking the rest of them down in the unfortunate event of being found. As for Maiza's hope to find a wonderful human to immortalize and help lead the world into an eternal age of peace and prosperity, it was abandoned once it became more than apparent that his involvement would just get the hypothetical individual killed that much more quickly rather than erasing their fear of death. Instead, Maiza sank into the deepest, darkest parts of human society that operated behind the scenes and outside of the law. Never before departing for America did he entertain the thought of becoming a criminal. Now, it was the only option remaining to him.
He considered himself lucky to find the Martillo family and join as their Controllo, but by this time, Maiza had sealed away his heart in a place no one could touch. Everyone in the organization had their secrets and did not pry into his own, even as the years wore suspiciously on, but in return, Maiza could not honestly think of them as true friends. He was friendly with them, of course, but couldn't bring himself to talk or act openly around them. And, denied entry to his tortured soul, none of them could do anything about his occasional lapse into melancholy. Maiza closed himself off from their concern and held them at arms length.
Perhaps he may have one day been able to forgive himself within a perfectly reasonable amount of time if he had been forced to face people who held knowledge of his sin on a daily basis, but the continuing threat had made that impossible and he feared their reactions upon seeing them again. Would they have realized whose fault it was that they were unable to live normally and without fear? Would they hate, blame, and ultimately reject him? Maiza could not stand to even think about it.
Two hundred years later, he was still haunted by Gerd's ghost. Every conversation he overheard between two brothers was a conversation that they had shared or could have enjoyed together. Every couple he passed on the street was Gerd and Sylvie as they had been together and every wedding and new family was what they could have been. He couldn't look in a mirror without wondering if his little brother might have grown to look more and more like him or if he might have also come to rely on glasses one day. At the worst of times, just the sight of a boy or man with brown hair twisted his heart, and he lived in ever present dread of meeting Sylvie again, feeling like he would suffer a public breakdown. It was my fault. I took him away from you. I took him away from both of us. He's gone forever and I am to blame. I'm sorry, Sylvie, I'm so sorry. On days like that, if it hadn't been for his continuous shameful human fear of death, Maiza was ready to go out and find Szilard himself. However, letting the full knowledge of the elixir fall into his hands was not something he could allow, knowing full well that he would only use it to kill even more for his personal gain.
It was on one of his better days that Maiza came across a young boy caked in dust and dirt fleeing from a raised voice, holding a loaf of bread tight against his worn, torn clothes with one arm. He looked nothing like Gerd and the difference in personality would prove greater still, but his slender form and dirty brown hair was enough to send him back in time to his childhood when he and Gerd played together, happy and laughing. There was no fear or such a thing as dying, only how fast they could run and the sun filling them with warmth and the soft grass between their toes and Maiza making fun of how Gerd always got so shy around Sylvie.
He managed to catch the boy by his sleeve, was surprised when it began to tear, and took him by the arm instead. The boy fought capture valiantly, trying to pull or kick himself away, shouting at the man to let go, but gave up the moment the winded baker caught up, and settled into a defiant glare, setting his jaw and making no movement or indication that he would give up the loaf. For the first time, Maiza was able to see and feel that the child was well on his way to becoming nothing but skin and bones.
"Thank you for catching him, sir," the baker said in gratitude once he had caught his breath. "It's unbelievable how young thieves start out these days."
The boy was outraged. "I'm not a thief! I've never stolen anything in my life! If anything, you're the thief, old man!"
Face tightening in anger as he raised a hand to strike the child, the baker began to shout, "Why, you little...!" before Maiza stepped a little closer, putting himself between the two.
"How much would that loaf of bread have sold for?" he asked, and dug inside his pocket for change before the bewildered baker offered him an answer. Maiza handed him a quarter, too much for a simple loaf of bread, but thought that it would probably be better to pay the man a little more for his trouble just to make sure he would be satisfied even without punishing the boy. "That's fine, isn't it? Now that the bread is paid for, you can get back to your other customers."
The baker stared up at him with wide eyes before narrowing them. "I'll give you a good warning: street rats like this one aren't worth the trouble." He glared at the boy, who glared straight on back. "If I ever see you near my bakery again, you won't walk away without a beating!"
"I'd like to see you try!" the kid shouted back, advancing slightly until Maiza held him back. "You'll get your fair share of scrapes and bruises!"
Snorting at the boy's bravado, the baker turned and left to return to his store without another word as the child seethed, staring after him. After he was satisfied, the kid looked up at Maiza defiantly, and held out the bread. "It isn't even worth the ten cents he charges for it," he said. "You ought to return it or at least follow him back to get your change."
A little baffled by the child's behavior, Maiza asked, "Why are you giving that to me?"
"You paid for it, didn't you? That means it's yours. Take it and let me go so I can grab another one, alright?"
Maiza chuckled a bit, releasing the kid's arm but didn't reach out to take the bread. The boy did not make a move, and only became impatient as his stomach began to growl. He raised a hand and ruffled the boy's hair like he had done to Gerd from time to time. "Didn't we just go through this? If you steal another loaf, it'll just happen all over again."
The boy shrugged away from his hand, frowning. "Didn't you hear me when I said I wasn't a thief? I swept that guy's storefront and he just told me to get lost. When he kept refusing to pay me, the only option I had was to take one of his loaves. That's fair, isn't it? Ten cents worth of bread for a chore that needed to be done? He didn't have to chase after me like that. It wasn't like I was the one who didn't pay him for his services."
Amazed with the boy's response, Maiza replied, "Is that so? In that case, I apologize for my interference. I completely misinterpreted the situation."
"I don't need an apology," the kid explained, raising the loaf higher. "Just hurry up and take your bread. I got it dirty, though, so you should just take it back and trade for another."
Maiza couldn't help but smile. "Why don't you just consider it a gift? I wasn't intending to buy the bread for myself, after all."
The boy stared up at him for a while, then brought the loaf back down, taking in a few mouthfuls to calm his protesting stomach before he said, "I owe you a quarter now, mister. I don't have any money on me, but I can work it off right away."
"There really is no need for that," Maiza replied, and pressed forward with a little hesitation. "Forgive me if I'm prying, but you live on the streets, don't you? Is there anyone taking care of you? It's hard to believe that you're on your own with such a refined sense of right and wrong."
The boy thinned his lips, lowered his face, and shook his head. "My father died when I was younger and we didn't have much money so my mother and I started living in the street after a while. She suddenly started getting sick too, just like Father did, so she taught me how to find work and I started learning how to fight so I could protect her because she just kept getting weaker. She died about a month ago, but before she went, she told me not to be sad because she was going to be with Father again and that they would both always watch out for me even if I couldn't see them. I know she said not to be sad, but I miss them both a lot."
"It's perfectly natural," Maiza replied, drifting back into thoughts of how he had failed his friends and Gerd, "to be sad. It's something we have to live through, even though we may never contain it or move on."
The boy didn't really understand Maiza's words, probably expecting something more encouraging or perhaps an attempt to make him smile, but was able to push his heartache aside as he took another bite from the loaf. "I'm still going to have to pay you back somehow, mister. Mother said that there isn't anything in the world that can be taken for free, since there's always a price in the end."
Maiza sighed, realizing that the kid had made up his mind. "Why don't you come with me for a little while? I'll see if I can find someone willing to take you in."
Immediately suspicious, the boy frowned. "I don't need to be taken in by anyone. I can take care of myself."
"Then at least let me provide a bath, new clothes, and some good food. If you're serious about repaying your debt, you'll need to be healthy and presentable to work, otherwise it will likely always end up like today," Maiza offered, turning back the way he had come, waiting for a reply.
The boy stared at him for a few seconds before following and they settled into a slow pace as he chewed on the loaf every now and then. "I don't really get it," he said. "Is there something you gain from doing this? If you buy me all that, I'll end up owing you a lot of money. Are you some kind of loan shark?"
"Something like that," Maiza replied, but to the kid's credit, if he was scared or disturbed, it didn't show on his face. "What's your name?"
"Firo Prochainezo," the boy replied, his grin betraying pride. "My father gave me that name."
After introducing himself in turn, Maiza led him back to the Alveare, where they met with Molsa Martillo and several other of the family's executives. It didn't take long for Firo to unintentionally charm his way into the hearts of everyone present, and it was decided that the family would raise him into adulthood together. Maiza was a little hesitant to accept that, especially when Firo insisted on working for them somehow, but he was reassured that the boy would not be exposed to any of the more dangerous or illegal activities, and would be granted a much more permanent residence in the future.
Molsa looked at him with an oddly amused smile, saying, "There are some things that children are able to do more easily than adults, after all." Maiza hadn't been able to decipher the true meaning behind his words at the time, especially since it was decided that Firo would start by helping out with cleaning and in the kitchens, but much later on, in reflection, he had to have been referring to how he had suddenly seemed so genuinely happy while Firo was close. It appeared that Maiza was the last to realize that he had acquired something of an adopted brotherly bond. The thought only increased his guilty conscience. Had he really been able to replace Gerd so easily? He was so disgusted with himself, but Firo quickly became attached to him, the rest of the executive staff, and found playmates in their allied family, the Gandors, who had also taken in an orphan to raise alongside their three sons. In the end, Firo didn't gain a permanent residence of his own until adulthood, and simply alternated sleeping arrangements between the Gandor residence and Maiza's place, staying with the other executives from time to time as well.
Nine years passed in the blink of an eye, but with Maiza's stopped time, everything else seemed to move faster than before. Firo, rejecting the multiple chances he was given to leave the family and pursue a lawful career, likely due to his continued insistence on paying back the Martillo family for all they had done for him, was promoted to the position of Camorrista shortly after his eighteenth birthday. The promotion party turned out to be much more eventful than planned, when Szilard finally managed to track him down after his newly discovered immortality elixir found its way into the glasses of the entire Martillo executive staff and the three Gandor brothers after a series of unlikely events. Thinking that he had gotten all of them killed, Maiza was nearly ready to simply let himself die, but he was saved when Szilard's homunculus suddenly rebelled, and Firo rose to the task of putting down the old man for good.
Once the action was over, Maiza, knowing that Gerd and the others were finally avenged, could still not rest in peace. He blamed himself for causing the horrendous curse of immortality to extend even further from its original tragedy, and was surprised when everyone affected only thought it to be a cause for celebration. He looked on in amazement while the more spirited of the bunch began to dance in joy, but his eyes were drawn to Firo standing beside Szilard's homunculus, Ennis, and realized that she was the woman Firo had told him about the day before, the one he'd been so infatuated with after such a brief meeting. With the two of them standing together like that, his mind was plagued once more with thoughts of Gerd and Sylvie and how they hadn't been allowed to stay happy together because of him. The only way to make up for that, he decided, was to stand guard over the happiness of Firo and Ennis, who wouldn't have existed if it wasn't for him. The deep pit of despair still ate at his heart, but it had become more manageable in the last decade.
It was a couple days later, once everything had calmed down and settled, that Firo approached him to speak about what had happened. For some reason, Maiza had forgotten the details surrounding the consumption of other immortals. Firo now carried within him the memories of Szilard and everyone he had ever eaten, including his very own little brother.
Stepping inside Maiza's private office and pulling the door closed behind him, Firo didn't know where to begin. "It never even crossed my mind that you haven't aged a day in the last nine years," he joked.
"Firo," Maiza replied, "I'm sorry about keeping everything in the dark, and I'm very grateful to you for putting this nightmare of mine to an end."
Apologies and thanks wasn't the reason for Firo's presence that day. "You've already said as much many times already," he sighed. "There's a bunch of important things I've got to tell you now that everything's out in the open."
Curious, Maiza wondered, "What is it, Firo?"
Firo took a seat and removed his hat, playing with its edges while he explained. "I don't think I ever told you how much I had always wanted to have a brother. I still remember being jealous of the neighborhood kids when my parents were still alive because they always had someone to play with even if they weren't allowed to go outside. After that, I thought that maybe I could somehow sneak myself into becoming another Gandor brother, but it didn't work out. For some reason, I could only think of them as friends. I couldn't figure it out for the longest time, but now I know for sure that it was because of you, Maiza. Ever since the day you found me on the street that time, I'd unconsciously adopted you in my heart as my older brother, and everybody else became something like uncles and grandfathers. In the end, the Camorra became my family."
His throat closing up, Maiza replied, "There was always something about you that felt like a little brother."
Putting his hat down on top of Maiza's desk, Firo grinned over at him a little sheepishly and said, "I'm glad you feel the same way, because I'm a little worried about how you're going to react to this next bit."
Without skipping a beat, Maiza told him, "There's nothing at all for you to worry about."
But still, Firo had to gather his courage before he managed to blurt out, "Gerd didn't blame you."
Maiza became very still, prompting Firo to continue on in explanation now that he had dropped the bomb.
"He didn't blame you at all. Not even for a second, Maiza. He loved you so much. I can feel it--it's the same feeling I have. He was sad to die and leave you and Sylvie, but he would have rather died than lose either of you. He died, choosing to believe that his death would keep you both safe, if even only for a few minutes longer. And, and the rest of the people who died during that day and after... I won't lie. Many of them regretted drinking the elixir, but they all understood that they had drank it of their own free will. None of them blamed you for providing it to them. They'd all been so grateful to you, Maiza, for making their last day so full of light and hope."
"Firo," Maiza choked out, rising from his seat and turning away.
"Did you think nobody would notice?" Firo asked, getting up to stand behind him. "Everyone was constantly worried about you, and the way you never really opened up to anyone. Why didn't you say anything? How many years did you suffer in silence like this? You never did anything wrong."
"It wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for me," Maiza insisted. "I brought this upon everyone."
"Everyone here would have stayed down after being shot dead if it wasn't for you, Maiza. It doesn't have to turn out the way it did last time. There's no one here that would do something like that. Not in this family." Firo clasped a hand on the taller man's shoulder, and started in surprise when Maiza suddenly whirled around to capture him in a crushing hug. "Ack! Maiza! That's a bit too tight even for our immortal brotherly bond!" he complained, but hugged back just the same, ignoring the tears that collected in his hair and spilled down his neck.
A year later, Maiza was finally ready to confront his fears and move on by contacting the first of the many survivors of 1711 and the later years of being hunted down. Czeslaw Meyer was as physically old as Firo when he had first met him, but within that small body was a greater tragedy. Not only had he been orphaned as a child, but Fermet, Maiza's friend, and the one who had taken Czeslaw in, had apparently lost his mind over the years, torturing the boy terribly until he finally fought back, eating him. Since then, Czeslaw had been unable to trust another living soul, much less his fellow immortals.
However, something big must have happened on the train because the Czeslaw that arrived was definitely not the Czeslaw he had been expecting. Rather, it seemed that he had already made a great deal of progress, judging from the way he was nearly immediately moved to tears shortly after they met again for the first time in over two hundred years.
While Czeslaw wept loudly against his torso, Maiza thought back to how cleansing it was to have finally been able to let go of all the sorrow and regret, knowing that Czeslaw was feeling very much the same. "It's all right," he told him, holding him tightly. "Everything is all right, now."