Chapter 3: Shattered Ceramic

"W-What did you say?" Gustavo said after a long pause, eyebrows shooting up.

But he didn't seem offended. Not even close.

"I'm sorry, it's just..." I clenched my fists. "I didn't want to ask you, but I keep hearing about him all the time. I couldn't hold back anymore."

Gustavo sighed up at the ceiling. "No problem. I was expecting you to ask me that someday. Just not this soon..."

He sat back in his chair. "Sit down too, Nico. I'll tell you everything I know."

A bit apprehensive, I obeyed. I sat cross-legged at his feet.

And finally, with a small smile, he told me something I had always wanted to hear:

"Our father's name is Tommy Britton. He had curly hair just like yours."

Tommy Britton... Wow, that's my father's name. What a strange feeling—

Wait a minute.

"That doesn't sound like a common name in Lusitania."

"You're right. He's from Britannia, actually. But he moved here, met Mom, and had you and me."

So I'm mixed. A child of two different peoples. It's pretty cool to discover all of this.

"Tell me more about him, please."

"Let me finish..." Another sigh. "I was never very close to him. Kind of an absent father — spent most of his time away from home. But I wouldn't call him a bad father. He took care of me like any other would, and even though me some things about being a Totalizer."

That description reminds me of a certain woman.

His gaze fixed on the wooden ceiling. "He was a Totalizer too. Flew more than he walked. Everything was relatively calm — until out of nowhere, about two months after our mother got pregnant, he simply disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"Yes. I mean, he ran away. I know that."

Something crossed his face. Not nostalgia. The opposite of it.

"One night, already very late, I'd fallen asleep at the living room table with a book, when I heard footsteps behind me. I woke up and saw our father. Not happy, not sad — just calm. He was walking toward the front door, which he never did at that hour. And after he stepped out, I never saw him again."

"Did he say anything?"

"Yes. 'See you later.'"

That's a promise. A promise that he'll come back one day, right? One day my father will knock on the front door and explain everything. But I'd better not say that out loud. He clearly holds some resentment toward our father, even if he's trying to hide it. He looked away when he mentioned Tommy. And I think I know why:

Eduarda. Our mother.

After his disappearance, she must have been devastated and confused. Which made Gustavo blame Tommy for it. That's why this is so hard for him to talk about. Better I change the subject.

"So, Gustavo," I said. "Why doesn't Mom have the last name Britton? Did they never get married?"

"Well, they never got married, I have no idea why. Honestly, I don't know anything else about him."

Gustavo looked me in the eyes. A forced smile.

"You probably wanted to know more, right? You must be pretty disappointed. Oh, I actually remember something, he always used to say "good morning, little punk..." Sorry, It's my fault for not having—"

"No problem!" I stood up in front of him. "I just wanted to know out of curiosity anyway. It doesn't matter. The only people I need in this world are you and Mom!"

He sat there with his mouth open, shocked. A very comforting kind of shock.

"You are such a mature person, Nico... Much more than I was at your age."

Well, that's probably because I have the mind of someone over 20.

But yes, it's true. I don't care about my father at all. If I never meet him in my life, that's fine, whatever. It would be asking too much. I just want a peaceful life, with people by my side to enjoy it. As long as I have a funeral packed with people who actually showed up, I think that's enough. And the powers, obviously — I want to discover everything, be the strongest in the world. But I'd trade all of that for the guarantee of what I said before.

That must be the main goal of Nicolau Britton's life: have a lavish funeral. Everything else is secondary.

I would like you to be part of my funeral, Gustavo. Hahaha...

"Oh, Nico! T-There's something I need to ask you right now."

Gustavo had an urgency about him I'd never seen before. Trembling, he was just short of foaming at the mouth.

"What is it?"

"A-Are you going to awaken your powers soon, right? So I want to be your master! I want to train you and make you very strong!"

Ah, he's only 12 years old after all...

"Of course. I was counting on that."

He jumped for joy — then caught himself mid-air, straightened up, and acted like nothing had happened.

"T-This is going to be an agreement between us, okay?" He stuttered.

"Yes! Please!"

Even if I try to focus on things other than having powers, it's very hard. Being able to fly around and throw punches hard enough to crack walls is impossible not to desire.

"Hey, Gustavo. Can I ask you something?"

"Absolutely. Go ahead."

"Where do babies come from?"

Instant discomfort on his face. Of course, I already know the answer. I just want to see him feel the same discomfort I felt when my little sister asked me that in my past life.

Just because.

Gustavo took his new role as ‘Master’ more seriously than I ever could have anticipated. Thank God. From that afternoon on, our lives became a cycle of sweat, sore muscles, and the slow passage of time.

I am now 4 years old. I could attend a preschool by now, but I'm not even sure schools exist here.

I don't think I've changed much. At most I've mastered the skill of walking — I finally don't trip every three seconds. Other than that, I'm pretty strong. Seriously. I'm sure the life goal of a 4-year-old probably shouldn't be building muscle, but it's the one thing I've thrown myself into. Back in my past life I spent most of my time locked in my bedroom on the computer, not even studying. But there's nothing close to that technology here. The other option would be books, but I've never been a reader. So in this world, I chose bodybuilding.

And no, I still haven't awakened my powers. But that doesn't bother me anymore.

I changed that mindset. Now I'm patient about it. I simply accepted it.

Though I think it would've been impossible to accept without something to hold on to.

I have something. My trainer. Gustavo.

Gustavo is 14 now — the adult age in this world. He hasn't stopped growing and has already hit 1.80m. His voice is completely different from when I was born, his muscles more defined every week. He's also started locking himself in the bathroom alone from time to time. I'd forgotten how much boys change during puberty.

More importantly, he trains me almost every day, with a smile on his face.

Gustavo convinced me to drop the obsession of wanting to awaken already, and instead spend that time training with him. It makes sense. Being a Totalizer means nothing if you don't have the body for it. A trained, muscular Totalizer against a scrawny one who doesn't train is like a professional MMA fighter against their late grandfather. You'd get swallowed up by a Wizard or any minimally prepared Totalizer.

I am very dedicated to this. I'm incredibly proud of my progress. I didn't get it handed to me.

"Come on. Try to punch me." Gustavo kept his hands behind his back, dodging every sweaty hit I threw. Literally every one.

"Agh... You're flying the whole time. That's not fair!"

"But I'm within your reach."

We were in the dining room. The huge table that seats almost ten people had been moved aside by one man in under five seconds. Gustavo. The strength of a Totalizer was already fully visible in him — he controlled his flight without any effort, and his growth curve showed no signs of slowing.

Beyond strength, agility and dexterity are crucial too. That's why I was doing nothing but trying to land a single punch while he dodged.

Son of a bitch... If he were on the ground, I would've hit him ages ago!

"Come on, you're being too impulsive. I want to see you sweat more," he said, somewhere between drill sergeant and older brother.

"Sweat more?! Are you joking? My body is completely soaked."

I pulled off my t-shirt to prove it, revealing my well-defined chest... It's not. Kids just don't have hormones for muscle definition. But I like to pretend.

"Look! How can you say I'm not trying hard enough?!"

"If you're still standing, you can try harder. The rest doesn't—"

I threw the shirt at his face.

With his vision blocked, I landed a punch square on his chest.

"Haha! It worked! I win!"

Brilliant plan. I'm incredible.

Gustavo pulled the shirt off his face, and every trace of warmth vanished from his expression.

"15 push-ups. Now."

"Huh? Because I cheated? You yourself said that in a fight anything goes—"

"Not for that. For being a sore loser."

I gritted my teeth while he launched into a monologue about why being a sore loser matters for a warrior, blah blah blah.

"Damn it..." I got down and did the push-ups, fury in my eyes at such injustice.

"Boys, please keep it down. I'm trying to concentrate." Eduarda called out from the sofa in the kitchen, eyes never leaving the illustrations of the prayer book in her hands. She'd recently started wearing glasses, squinting at the colorful drawings she knew by heart.
Once, in the quiet between our breaths, I noticed a faint trace of mana around her—a small spark of magic she seemed to carry, though I had no idea what it was.

"Yes, Mom, don't worry," Gustavo replied.

Their relationship had stayed more or less the same, though Eduarda trusted him more now. On his 14th birthday she'd pulled him aside and given him a speech about being the man of the house, which Gustavo had listened to without moving. But I never saw them actually spend time together — they could hold a decent conversation, and that seemed to be enough for both of them.

Tommy Britton's name was never mentioned again. Come to think of it, I'd never heard my mother say the word "father" once in my entire life. I sometimes wondered what went on in her head.

But I didn't care about that. Honestly.

Knock knock.

None of us reacted with any surprise.

"Quick, Gustavo!" My mother stood up, tucking the picture book onto a shelf.

"Right away." Gustavo was already in the air, sliding the table back into place before I'd taken two steps.

"Nicolau." She looked at me. "Change that shirt."

"Okay."

I ran to my room — yes, I have my own room now, even if I try to spend as little time there as possible — grabbed the first thing I found in the drawer, and put on a plain white t-shirt. Fixed my hair a bit. You have to look at least decent when receiving guests, especially guests you actually like.

Through the front door came a family larger than ours. An elderly mother, a man of similar age, a girl younger than me, and next to her a girl just as blonde but much taller. Eva's family.

They'd been invited for dinner. This wasn't the first time. The little one was Pata — Eva's younger sister, the same one born that day.

Both parents had white hair and warts. I was never quite sure how they'd managed another child at that point in life, but they had very gentle faces.

I went to their house often, or they came to ours. Mrs. Bela always slipped me little sweets. Mr. Miguel Salcedo, the father, told me cheesy jokes — "I told my wife she drew her eyebrows too high... she looked surprised" — and I always pretended to laugh. They were both very friendly.

Pata I didn't know much about. She was 2 years old, quiet most of the time, the complete opposite of her sister. Once she told me she was "actually a God hidden in a child's body." That was absolutely something Eva had put in her head.

Eva, at 6, had never bitten me again.

"Enjoy your meal," my mother said.

Seated at the table, Mr. Miguel, Mrs. Bela, and Eduarda fell into easy conversation — old people stuff. You could see on my mother's face how much she loved moments like this. Poor Gustavo, already 14, had been pulled into the adults' table with no way out. He stayed mostly quiet, occasionally fielding the sort of questions only old people think to ask.

I was at the kids' section, with Eva and Pata. Perfectly reasonable. Still felt slightly insulting.

"Hey." Eva looked at me with an extremely proud face, bringing a spoon of fish to her mouth. "Daddy is teaching me magic! I'm going to be a Wizard, haha."

"Really, that's cool. But one day I'll be a Totalizer and I'll be much stronger than you."

"Humpf. Look at you — I'm already taller."

"You're older than me. Boys end up taller than girls. I'll catch up soon."

"No! I won't let you!!"

We locked eyes with pure competitive hostility — wait. Why am I seriously arguing with a child? Tsk. I'm literally a grown adult. Be a man.
This developing brain and toddler hormones are really messing with my adult consciousness! It’s hard to control these childish impulses.

"Pata." I stood, extending a hand. "Would you like some more?"

Beneath Eva's screaming I made out a quiet "Yes. Please."

She held out her plate.

I took it.

The plate shattered in my hands. It suddenly felt as fragile as wet paper.

The crack of breaking ceramic silenced the whole room. Every head turned.

I smiled.

Finally.