A man of forty smiled at a young boy with ginger hair, holding onto his hand as they walked down the street. The young boy chattered about the book he had read, swinging their hands together. His uncle would occasionally speaks up, either to answer a question, to explain something, or to correct the boy's pronunciation. The man was amused at how the boy managed to recite the story, word by word. 

Once, he had asked how did the boy managed to remember everything in detail, not a single thing forgotten only to be answered with a confused look. The boy had tilted his head and asked if he was doing it wrong, remembering things that is. He had then describe to his uncle that images of what he had seen would pop out and words that he had read would tumble out whenever he needed.

Horror dawned the boy as he stuttered if that wasn't normal and if something was wrong with him. His uncle had chuckled and crouched to his eye level. He had gently ruffled his ginger hair as he explained. "There's nothing wrong with you, my child. It is rare for someone to have such good memories, so it surprised me."

"Oh. I thought it's the same with everyone." 

"No, it's not." His uncle had hoisted him up and bopped him on his nose, eliciting giggles from the boy. "It's something only certain people have. It's unique, and it's special." Metallic blue eyes sparkled as he took in the man's words. "It's your gift, my child. Cherish it. Cherish your memories and never forget them even though it's painful. Sometimes, forgetting is much more painful than remembering."

The boy didn't exactly understood what his uncle meant, but nodded anyway. "I will." The corner of his uncle's eyes crinkled as the man smiled even brighter.  

("How can this be a gift, uncle?)

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Two days. Caelum had been unconscious for two days since the first time he woke up. It was honestly worrying, because none of them knew what was wrong with the man. Knuckle had healed the broken bones and any internal injuries Caelum had, but even then, Caelum remained unconscious. Not even his flames did anything. It was there, but silent. It no longer linger in the air, protecting Caelum but resided inside of the ginger burning slowly.

Alaude slowly tipped the mug, letting the water flow into Caelum's slightly agape mouth. It was perhaps on reflex that the ginger had swallowed the water, but at least it was reassuring enough. Alaude stopped once the mug was empty and set it aside. He watched the man's peaceful face wordlessly, the lightly breathing filling the air.

He leaned back onto the chair and looked out to the window, where the sun was slowly setting, different colours painted the sky in harmony. It was as beautiful as always, but Alaude found himself not fully paying attention to it. He was lost in his thoughts again. With how frequent he did that, he was actually slightly concerned.

During the two days, Alaude had called upon the men he had stationed in the village to guard the house and clean it up. Caelum's deceased family members had been given a proper burial, whereas the Capital men were no longer salvageable. The priest had did the prayers as Alaude obtained information from Percy. 

He was right. It was a planned murder. (He had sent people to look for Lucien and the others' bodies, and they would arrive in perhaps midnight.) Honestly, Alaude didn't know what else to feel except anger and exhaustion when Percy finished his recount. He had dismissed the man after telling him to write a report about it and hand it to him, and take care of the twins, mind running and plotting. (He would have to take this in hand. The Capital needed an immediate lesson on not touching off-limit-grounds after all.)

He sighed inaudibly, closing his eyes to will away the nagging headache.

"What's with the long face..?" His eyes snapped open at the soft and hoarse voice, barely coherent. Metallic blue eyes, half-lidded watched him tiredly. Alaude jerked forward. "You're awake." He sounded monotonous, but he was surprised. Genuinely surprised, because the last he had expected was the man waking up calm. Of course, he was glad, but it was unexpected.

Caelum seemed to had heard the surprise in his voice just fine and chuckled slightly. "Yeah." He closed his eyes, but not dozing off. His lips pursed, eyebrows pulled together slightly. "How long have I been sleeping?" Alaude observed the look on his face, saying nothing of it as he answered. "Two days."

"Wow." Caelum breathed out. He blinked and looked over to the setting sun. Two days. He had been sleeping for two days. No wonder he felt the ache in his bones for lying too long in one position. For two days, he had been rerunning through his memories of his family, since the beginning til the end. Each and every one of it, over and over again, etching in even further into his mind than it had ever been.

Chill set in his bones.

"It is always this painful?" To lose those who you love?  

Alaude didn't need to hear the rest of the sentence to know what the man meant. It was as obvious as daylight. And it was something Alaude knew very well. "Yes."

"Does it.." Caelum's voice faltered. He almost didn't wanted to continue, but he braced himself and took a deep breath, spoke up in a louder and clearer voice. "Will it get better?"

"No." Alaude said truthfully. "No it won't, but you'll learn how to bear with it. You'll learn how to live with it, but the pain will never disappear." It never did. Til this day, Alaude could still feel the pain of his lost. It was bearable, and it was still there, but he had learned to accept it. It was a mark for him to protect, and to shield away from people to prevent any deeper connections. (Clearly, his plan wasn't working well. Not really.)

Caelum's grimaced, biting his lips as his face scrunched up. He avoided Alaude's eyes as he turned to stare out the window instead. He breathed out shakily, almost sighing. Deep inside, he had already knew the answer. He knew it, but he wanted to hear it from someone else. It still affected him, however.

He felt like crying again, but he didn't have the energy to cry. Not anymore. He was so tired of crying.

Alaude reached out and patted him on his head, far too gentle for someone like him. Too gentle that it reminded Caelum of his uncle, but it contradicted. His uncle's hands were cold and big, always gentle with his touch and always careful with his hands. Alaude's? Alaude's was warm and similar to his, almost as calloused as his and almost as rough as his. Alaude's hands were firm and deadly.

How both sets of hands from two very different people could bring him such calmness was and will forever be a mystery to him.

He simply leaned into the hand, a small smile on his face. 

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Sometime late at night did Caelum finally moved from the bed. His body was too stiff for his liking, and too weak at the moment to the point that he couldn't even properly stand without supporting himself for awhile. He found it strange, for he didn't remember having any leg injuries. It was probably because he hadn't eat anything for quite some time. (No, it wasn't. In the very back of his mind, he knew it wasn't, but he had muted that part of his mind.) 

That was also when he first met Knuckle. Their introduction was slightly awkward at first, because Knuckle had actually spent the whole time staring at him while they shook their hands, but it soon melted to nothing. The priest's cheerful attitude brought a smile to Caelum's face, even as he and Alaude had some sort of weird one-sided argument about who knows what. They were talking in another language for all he knew.

That, and Knuckle's catchphrase was very interesting.

"Careful, it's hot to the ultimate!" Knuckle warned as he set a bowl of porridge in front of Caelum. The ginger thanked him just as Alaude went to his room and came down in his trench coat. He watched the man walked to his bag by the corner of the room and put on a cloak. 

"Where are you going?" Alaude lifted his head and looked a him for a moment before turning back to his bag, ruffling through it. "The Capital." Caelum involuntarily tensed up, his grip on the spoon tighten. Knuckle noticed the sudden change and frowned. From what Alaude had told him, it wasn't that surprising to see Caelum still triggered by anything that has to do with the army and his family. Although Alaude knew of that, he knew as well that there was no point in lying to Caelum.

"He's going to settle some business our boss told us to do." Knuckle piped in, diverting the man's attention. It was obvious, but he could tell that he had succeeded, if the sagging of shoulders indicated anything. Caelum nodded mutely and returned his attention to his food.

Alaude slung his bag over his shoulder and walked over to Caelum. He ruffled the ginger mop none too gently, messing it up. "I'll be back soon. In the mean time, watch over this guy," Knuckle hey-ed the beige-haired man which was ignored. "And make sure that he doesn't mess up my house." Caelum gave him a loop-sided smile as he pushed the hand away. "Yeah yeah."

(Knuckle really wondered if Alaude was possessed by some sort of ghost as he silently prayed to God.)

The beige-haired man gave Knuckle a pointed look, which the priest dubbed as I-Know-What-You-Are-Thinking-Stop-It-Before-I-Kill-You and Watch-Over-Him-Or-Else. Knuckle rolled his eyes internally and waved his hand in shoo-ing motion. Even if Alaude didn't tell him, he would do as such. He wasn't going to leave someone who's going through hard times alone. No, that's not something he should do. 

When Alaude finally left, Knuckle turned all his attention to Caelum. He could still feel the flames underneath Caelum's skin, so tightly wounded together that he felt like wincing. It wasn't uncommon, these kind of control of flames. Heck the seven of them does this almost every day. But in Caelum's case, it was different.

Flames mirrors its user's personality or emotion, depending on which was stronger at the moment. Caelum's was definitely emotion at the moment, no doubt. With how he had controlled them subconsciously, because he knew that the ginger had little to no idea of the flames existence, Knuckle wouldn't be the slightest surprise if the man was bottling his feelings up, burying it deep down. He could tell, with the smallest tension in Caelum's muscle and his posture, he was trying very hard to bury everything inside him.

(He made a mental note sit the man down and explain to him. There was no way he could leave a flame active user behind without any idea what was happening to him. For all they know, he could be in greater danger if he was to be left in the dark.)

Again, Knuckle wasn't foreign to doing that because he had done it as well. (He was sure almost every one of them, even Asari, had done that, and Asari was one of the most straight-forward men Knuckle ever knew!) But Knuckle had an outlet. Knuckle would pray to God, confess everything he had down once in a while and let everything out. Does Caelum even have an outlet? He doesn't seemed like someone who would believe in God, and Knuckle wasn't going to actually convince him because the man has his own freedom to believe in what he wanted. 

Does he knows that he could tell either Alaude, or even Knuckle, if he wanted to?

 Perhaps, perhaps not. Knuckle had just met the man and only talked to him in like, less than ten sentences. He didn't know him well enough to tell if he would.

"Uh, Mister Knuckle?" The said man blinked out of his reverie when Caelum waved a hand in front of him. "Are you okay?" 

"A-ah, yeah. Sorry about that to the ultimate. I was just.. Thinking about something."

Caelum gave him a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Knuckle had not seen him smile genuinely as of yet. "I wouldn't doubt it." Caelum stood up and picked up the bowl, walking to the sink to wash it. When Knuckle tried to stop him, he insisted, pulling the bowl away from the priest grasp. Repaying him for making him food, he said. "What would you like to drink, Mister Knuckle."

"No, it's alright-" 

"Please, I insist." Knuckle paused, finally understanding what Caelum meant. "Then, coffee, please. Oh and please, calling me Knuckle's just fine."

Caelum's eyes seemed to twinkle in slight amusement.

-----------------------------------------------------

Caelum didn't sleep at all. Throughout the night, he was kept awake by both the buzz of the coffee in his system and his mind. Half of it was because he had slept for far too long, but another half was because he didn't want to fall back to sleep. He wasn't that willing to go through his dreams again. It was repetitive. Sure, how it went was different, but in the end, he still lost them through his fingertips.

He was getting tired of it.

Knuckle had long doze off on the sofa, exhaustion through the day finally caught up to him. Caelum had quietly placed the mugs in the sink and covered the priest up with a blanket, stifling a chuckle at how soundly the man had slept. It was actually hard to tell that Knuckle used to be a boxer. His muscle didn't show through his robe, so it was probably why. (But he knew that Knuckle was very well trained and had killed before, because he had told him and because Caelum could tell.)

Though, for someone so strong, Knuckle was surely humble, to both his God and others.

Caelum shook his head and borrowed a jacket from Alaude's wardrobe, which hadn't been touch for a long time. (He liked the smell of old wood so it wasn't much of a bother.) As silently as he could, he sneaked out of the house.

He sighed in relief when he could still hear the snore from Knuckle, which meant that the man was still asleep. Good. He shook his head slightly as he looked up to the clear, night sky, where the stars dotted brightly in it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Nodding to himself, he started walking to his house.

(Somewhere in his mind was screaming at him to not go anywhere near his house anymore, but his heart told him to. His instinct told him to. He needed to go there. He needed to see the house, perhaps for the last time, but to retrieve something.)

The moment he spotted the house from afar, his mind cleared. His heart stuttered for a moment, but he didn't stop in his track. It was the right decision, he told himself. He needed to go through this. He needed to, otherwise he would probably never going to make peace with what happened. He wouldn't be able to move on.

(He so badly wanted to move on, but it wasn't possible. Not yet. Not when he knew that there was still a good chunk of him not accepting what had happen.)

He needed this closure.

(His flames stirred before stilling.)

As he stopped right at the porch, he took deep breaths to gather himself before going in. Taking a shaky step in, he scanned the whole living room. Spotlessly clean. That wasn't what he had expected. What he had expected was to see dead, rotting bodies and blood stains, not clear place where nothing was out of place.

Or maybe not. The furniture that were stained by blood were no longer in its place, the carpet had changed, so did the wallpaper. It was similar, but it wasn't the same one. "Alaude, most probably." He muttered to himself as he walked further into the house slowly, taking everything in. He was surprisingly calm, because he was sure that he would be triggered by those memories. He was relief when he didn't feel the panic in him.

He sighed softly and walked up the stairs, reliving the days where the house was filled with laughter, warmth and smiles, reliving how it was ruined in just one night. His hand brushed against the wall, taking in every grooves and dents as he walked to the attic, his room.

He pushed open the door and took in how everything was in its place, exactly how he had left it. It was so surreal, like everything was just some dream, a bad dream especially, but it wasn't.

He went to his bed and crouched, pulling out an old, battered chest that he had pushed in years ago. It was dusty and locked, which was a given since he hadn't touch it for years. He felt around the bottom of the bed until he touched something metal and pulled out a key. He unlocked the chest and pushed open the lid, coughing when the dust flew about. Inside, there was a few old books, some journals, a few trinkets and a small box by the corner. 

He ran his fingers across the books but he didn't pick it up. Instead, he took the small box. He flicked it open and saw a ring sitting in there, cushioned by cotton wool. It glinted as Caelum took it. He touched the grooves, smiling at the memories of his beloved uncle. It belonged to his late uncle who had passed it to him before his last breath. It was his uncle's treasure even though he had never seen him wearing it. Caelum had, of course, took a liking on it and would stare at it as much as he could when he was younger.

During that time, he thought that it would lit up in flames if he was to stare at it, like how he had once saw in his dreams. It never did though.

He looked at the inside of the sliver band, where the words he knew so well glinted. 'The eyes of the Selfless.' Now that he thought of it, his uncle would occasionally call him 'selfless child' even though he disliked being called that. For as long as he could remember, he was never selfless. He was a selfish person. If anyone were to be called selfless, Alaude would came in mind. (The beige-haired man might kill him if told him that, probably.) 

The memories of Death and Judgement calling him 'Selfless one' came in mind.

He huffed. 'Seriously, what was with them and calling me 'Selfless'?' Shaking his head, he placed the ring back into the box and closed it. He shoved it into his pockets, making sure that it would drop out and turned back to the chest. He stared at the journals for a moment before closing the chest. He locked it up and went to the window. He looked out to the village where everyone was asleep, well, almost everyone. He pushed the window open and took one last look at the key.

Taking a deep breath, he threw the key away, where it landed far from his house and into the woods.

He closed the window and took one last look at his room, and he left the house.

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A/N= I'm in a slump, and I was procrastinating so hard on writing a few days ago. Not to mention I got hooked with Tenkuu Shinpan. I literally binge-read the whole manga in two nights. *sigh*

First part is Caelum's memories of him and his uncle. 

Fun Fact= I don't remember if I've mentioned about this in Second Life, but Caelum has photographic memories. 

Fun Fact= Knuckle was a heavy sleeper, but he was subconsciously aware of his surroundings, so he somehow knew that Caelum had left and came back.

Because of how rare Flame Active Users were, it was kept a secret between organizations that researches on it. (Mainly, to keep the government from knowing and potentially abusing the usage of Flames.) Organizations such as Vongola (still unnamed at the moment), Gilgo Nero, and Estraneo. (No, Estraneo won't be a major part of the story. Nah.) When either of them finds a Flame Active User, they would either give them a choice of learning more about it or not (Gilgo Nero), or taking them in (Vongola). Though, those active users Vongola found are either alone with no relatives or already a criminal. Somehow. 

(Vongola do take in Non-Active Users though, and majority of the member are non-active as well.)

And Knuckle can cook!

Can anyone guess what ring was that? That's right. THE HISTORIAN RING!

The next few chapters might come out slower than usual unless I've a sudden spur or inspiration. The pace of the story has slowed.

[I apologize for any grammar, spelling, etc. etc. mistakes]