"It chose you."
The silence lingered, the words hanging in the air.
"What does that mean?" Axel finally broke it, brows scrunched.
"What it means, of course. Well, rest up now," Serif said dismissively, tilting his head back toward his book.
"What does that mean?" Axel repeated, clicking his tongue.
Serif calmly turned a page.
Not answering again, huh? Axel frowned, turning toward him.
"So what exactly does it do?"
"Don't know."
"Right…" Axel muttered, narrowing his eyes. I have a feeling he wouldn't answer even if I asked what he means by breathing.
"So can anybody wield an anima?"
No response.
"It has something to do with that compatibility thing you mentioned before, right?"
Still nothing.
"So does it require you to always have contact with them for it to work?"
Serif exhaled slowly and shook his head without looking up.
"I'll take that as a no," Axel murmured.
His eyes drifted to the chain bangle on Serif's wrist, silver, normal-looking, nothing like the weapon he'd seen before.
"So what does your anima do? Size manipulation or something?"
Serif didn't respond, flipping another page with the same calm precision.
"Who even makes anima, anyway?" Axel muttered to himself.
He squinted at the book title.
"The Polepeniassian War by Castenada… huh. That's a good one," he said, testing the waters. "Though I'd have some criticism."
Serif finally looked up, brows scrunching in mild frustration as if saying would you shut up, just as a knock came from the door.
He glanced at his watch, sighed in relief, and stood. Axel tracked him with his eyes as he opened the door.
A small figure stepped in, a kid, or so Axel thought at first, his gaze moving to a black briefcase held by the kid.
The kid scanned the room, eyes stopping on Axel for a moment before shifting to Serif.
Then she smiled brightly, leapt forward, and hugged him.
"Serif! Long time no see!"
Something's off with that voice, Axel thought as she clung to Serif, her height barely reaching his chest. Serif gently pried her off, his face unreadable.
"Aww, c'mon. You'll hurt ya sister's feelings, you know? You don't call, visit, nothing! Only when ya need me." She pouted, crossing her arms. "That's not fair to me, y'know."
So she's a girl, Axel realized, coughing awkwardly, drawing her attention in the process.
She turned and approached his bed with curious eyes. The light hit her face, young, maybe early twenties, older than he assumed, petite at best, five-two tops.
Dark hair framed her features a big contrast to Serif, a big blue jacket slipping off her shoulders, revealing a snug tank top beneath, the fabric tight across her chest as though she wanted to draw attention there, her bare stomach and shorts daring him to notice.
The briefcase in her hand clashed so hard with the colorful outfit it almost looked like a prank.
She caught his startled look and smirked, tilting her head slightly, half-innocent, half-teasing.
"So you're the one stealing my brother's attention these days," she said, leaning close to the bed. A faint smile tugged her lips.
"Uh, hi," Axel muttered awkwardly, looking away.
"Well, you're not half bad. Maybe I'll steal ya from him." She looked at Serif, who ignored her completely. "What do ya say?" She winked.
"What…" Axel trailed off, face flushing red.
She chuckled and turned back to Serif. "So who's he?"
Axel swallowed hard, why am I so flustered? I've met girls before. Why does this feel… different? The warmth crawling through him was unmistakable, an uncomfortable feeling in his pants. Could it be an anima? It had to be.
He jerked slightly as her hand brushed his hair aside, her scent filling the space between them, reminding him of roses. Her pale red lips hovered dangerously close.
"Enough." Serif's voice snapped through the tension.
"Aww, you're no fun. Can't a gal have a little fun?" she said with an exaggerated pout.
Axel turned his head away, embarrassed by his own reaction. No way that was me. Definitely an anima. Had to be. After all he'd experienced something similar, not exactly but similar with Zeron or is it Zoran, I'm not falling for that again.
"So, Axel," she said cheerfully, "I'm Optima. Serif's dear sister, who he refuses to give attention to." She offered a hand with a dazzling smile.
Axel looked at her. Now that the effect had faded, she didn't seem so overwhelmingly radiant, just… human, a really pretty one.
"Was that your anima?" he asked bluntly.
Optima blinked, surprised, then chuckled. "Curious, aren't we? I like that. And yes, that was one of its perks."
"Perks?"
"Yeah." She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. "He's a normie, isn't he?" she asked, glancing at Serif.
Serif nodded. "Not anymore." He tilted his head toward the katana.
"Oh, so you're still following their orders, huh?" Optima's tone darkened for just a second before she smiled again. "Normally, I don't like anyone involved with them…" She looked back at Axel, grin returning.
"But since I like ya, and you're Serif's friend, this big sister will help ya however she can."
"Big sister?" Axel muttered, his tone dry.
"What? Don't you think I can be your big sister?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Axel chuckled nervously. "No, it's just… you're s—"
Serif's glare cut him off. Axel caught Optima's chilling smile and swallowed.
"—so amazing," he finished quickly.
Optima grinned, clearly pleased. "Well, you're right about that. But don't worry, I approve of you." She patted his head proudly. "If ya have any trouble, just ask ya big sister, okay?"
"Sure… big sister." He cringed at the words.
"So," Axel continued quickly as if trying to forget, "what is compatibility?"
"It's how well you sync with an anima. The higher it is, the more of its abilities you can use," Optima said, absentmindedly twirling a strand of her hair.
"It's determined by how close your personality matches the maker's, or the anima itself," she added.
"Wait, anima have personalities? Like, they're alive?"
"Well, some believe they are," Optima said thoughtfully. "There are cases where wielders with high enough compatibility report hearing their anima speak. So, yeah, maybe. But I can't confirm that." She shrugged.
"Who made them in the first place?" Axel asked.
Serif coughed, clearly trying to cut her off, "aren't you forgetting something."
Optima shot him a glare. "Ancient blacksmiths, of course," she said. "Long before any known civilization… except for a few."
Click. She popped open her briefcase.
"Like my Restoration here."
She drew out a revolver—sleek and elegant, its entire frame a smooth, pearlescent white. Silver streaks wound across the drum, faintly glowing under the light, like veins of metal caught mid-motion.
A faint blue cross was etched into the handle, a thin blue line along the muzzle, looking closer it looked like a wavy line, then straight, confusing.
The weapon seemed to hum faintly, alive.
As Optima gripped the handle, a glowing cross bloomed on her palm, perfectly aligned with the one on the handle. Blue energy flared, coursing through her arm in branching veins until it reached the weapon.
The silver streaks on the drum began to shift—turning blue, as though liquid light was flowing through them.
Optima smiled at Axel, eyes alight. "She's one of only five anima crafted in this era."
Then she leveled the revolver at him.
"Anyway, brace yourself, little brother. This might hurt a bit."
Axel blinked. "Wait, what—"
The muzzle flashed blue.
****
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