A Thousand Lifetimes

"Nii-san, you're cheating!"
 
The year is 1449, and they are playing cards on the dingy docks of Uwaji. It's not a sunny day, but it's nice enough that no one pays any attention to the two boys loitering by the tied-up fishing boats. It helps that he has taken the form of a local fisherman who -though sourly in nature- is well enough respected and known by the workers. No one's bothered him as he teaches his little brother another game of cards he's learned from the adventurers that pass through Pop's Inn. He's never gotten this fisherman's name, but it doesn't matter--he never uses their names anyway.
 
"I am not. You're just not learning fast enough, Tsuna." He chuckles, graying beard scrunching up as his grin pulls up frown lines that had probably never seen a smile in their existence, before ruffling the messy golden locks of the form Tsuna has taken on today to match his own. It's a good day, today. Today, he is Alva. He was born 18 summers ago to a human adventurer who never bothered to return, and a changeling mother who'd had no choice but to sell herself and was too sick as a result to keep up with the children she left behind. There used to be at least five of them, but it's just him and Tsuna now--- the others lost to starvation, disease, their own hands sometimes... It was sad to think about-- but they hadn't been meant for this world ---somehow, Alva had survived though, and with his survival, so had Tsuna. It was tough providing for them both sometimes, but it was an adventure all of their own.
 
He wouldn't give it up for the world.
 
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"Milady, just what do you think you're doing up there?!" A stout young man calls up to the girl napping somewhat haphazardly amongst the branches of an old willow tree. She's dressed in garments not suited to tree climbing and her long golden locks erratically spread across the twining leaves. She awakes, tumbling off the branches and into the young man's arms, frightened and unsure of herself. Her brown eyes dart around the flowerbeds that littered the field they stand on and she gasps as she looks up at the willow tree, having never seen anything like it before.
 
"Really, Lady Fatris, what will I do with you?" Come's that man's voice again, and she looks at him in horror. What a terrifying dream---to not know yourself.
 
Today, she is Fatris, a lady of the Western Lands whose whims are most unladylike, but she remembers Alva and the docks, and the little boy with bright curious eyes and she weeps.
 
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He is Alva again the next time he wakes, and the year is 1464---he's gotten much older, and so has Tsuna---and they have both taken to putting on traveling shows for the common kind and the adventurers that pass through the city to gain coin for their survival. It's barely enough, people living in fear of the Devil of that far-off Isle and the shadows that take people away. Alva feels sick now, and none of Pop's friends with knowledge of the healing arts can find what's wrong with him. He wakes with the taste of blood on his tongue every day that he's still Alva and it's all he can do to keep his brother from finding out. There's news of a reward for anyone who can go to that Isle and bring back proof that they'd slain a devil to the emperor's palace. The gold offered is too hard to resist, and he leaves Tsuna behind, assuming the form of a young Paladin boy who'd gotten himself killed by too much drink and his body dumped and raided in one of Uwaji's back ally's. There's nothing Alva can do for the boy, but it's a decent enough face for him---he'll keep it for himself, after all---the face isn't what makes Alva, Alva, is it?
 
He leaves with a party that morning. The other three men are loud and brash and too foolhardy, but he's hopeful in their strength to complete their quest. After all, Devil's didn't actually exist, did they?
 
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Lygar is a useless man who couldn't protect his wife and children, and now serves a master who may be less than a hero but hey the pay is decent at least. By now, he's used to these dreams---dreams of being someone else, someone more than the people he used to simply pretend to be---he's been many people over the years but Lygar is his least favorite by far. He's given up on life and everything good. He's given up on trying to save himself. However, Lygar has taught him to fight and for that he's thankful. Before this, he's not entirely sure he's ever known how to do much but scamper away from conflict.
 
He misses being Alva, though. Even with the pain and the uncertainty of what will happen next---Alva always felt right.
 
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Today he is finally Alva again,
 
He was wrong, Devil's existed---and they were cruel and powerful. One of his party is already dead, ripped to shreds before their eyes, and the others have left him behind the moment they realized he lacked the strength to keep up. He's going to die here, alone and frightened and his brother will never be safe, and will never know what happened.
 
At the very least, he gets to die as Alva.
 
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He doesn't die, not really---in fact when he awakes he feels more alive than he's ever felt in his existence. It's dark but there is a light before him, glowing and familiar. It looks like a tiny globe at first but in the end, it's a mirror. When he peers into it he's not Alva anymore---he's so many people, Fatris, Vikan, Ronalir, Mary, Sikan, Hoks, Runnel, Tium, Shanks, Emil, Roha, Statice, Lygar-- just so many. A thousand people, a thousand lives and he has to settle himself because he's forgotten again, he's forgotten--forgotten and he doesn't want to forget---not just himself but not them either but he's forgetting and the world isn't what he thought it was.
 
There's a creature before him in the dark, large and terrifying, it's one eye is directed straight at him and he knows---he just knows--that if it were truly looking down at him he would be gone forever. His world, his life---the lives he lived-- it was all just a dream for this creature's amusement.
 
They always were and always will be.
 
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He awakes and doesn't know who he is today. There is sand and water against his skin and something cold and metallic held tightly in his hand. He turns and gazes down at the small mirror with fogged eyes, trying hard to recognize the face in it. Footsteps come behind him and with reflexes he didn't know he had, he was up and away before the stranger could possibly catch him. His voice does, however, and he pauses at the words.
 
"Hey, who are you?" The stranger asks, voice casual. "Washed up from the river, eh? Lots of strange things tend to come out of there. Tell me, you a monster or a hero?"
 
There's a long moment as he looks back down at the mirror. Pale eyes gaze back up at him from its crystalline surface and he takes a deep breath, turning towards his new acquaintance with a smile.
 
"I'm just Alva."