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It takes a punch from his Angel for him to finally start to see sense.
He should have known- she’s growing up too fast nowadays. A small, helpless girl who relies solely on her brother for food and company, finally making friends and developing her own sense of empathy- something he never really had to begin with.
It was all fine and dandy when all he cared about was Marie. His sole spark of light in a world full of monsters. The person who kept him alive in more ways than one when everything was Hell. He exists for and because of her, but now?
The hurt in her eyes stabs him straight to his core. She hits him like she’s finally seeing him for the criminal he is, something he’s tried his damndest to protect her from and that- is just simply unacceptable.
For some ungodly reason, she cares for Asta and those other brats. At the time, it was a simple equation for him. If saving them is what it takes for Marie to forgive him, then that’s what he’ll do. He just wasn’t counting on that pathetic speech of Asta’s to get through to him like it did. Or for the old Hag to sacrifice herself.
The truth is, Gauche has never held any regard for himself before. His wants, his needs never mattered, not when Marie had wants and needs of her own he could provide for. But now, watching Sister Theresa bleed out before his eyes and Asta screaming out a declaration of companionship like some pathetic clown, something curious sparks inside him.
He’s held plenty of opinions about people before- usually about how stupid or how much of a threat they are. But now, looking at Asta and the lengths he’s going to get through to him, Gauche finally starts to feel something a little selfish. Something warm and bright, adjacent to what he feels from Marie, except Asta is fighting with him.
A friend. Another Black Bull, watching his back like no one bothered to do while he was on the streets or rotting in that prison. Marie was the first, the Captain the second, if only for a moment. Now Asta, with those eyes of steel, bleeding and broken and looking for all the world he might punch Gauche himself if he doesn’t get his shit together.
Maybe Marie was on to something after all. Not that he’d ever admit it, come pain or death. But he’s come this far- he might as well finish the fight.
The battle comes and goes with both victory and a sense of unease. Regardless, Marie is safe, his squad-mates made it out alive, and by some grace of God the old Hag hasn’t kicked the bucket yet. Gauche agrees to accompany his sister to visit her one last time, and refuses to acknowledge the sliver of relief he feels at seeing her awake and sitting upright.
Still, he can’t help but antagonize her just a bit. Threats dance on the edge of his tongue and the Witch dishes them right back, until Marie’s finally had enough.
“Hey! No fighting, big brother!” She stamps her feet, pouting by the window, and well, Gauche could never resist those puppy eyes of hers.
“Of course Angel, whatever you say.” He turns away, his back facing the woman who’d saved their lives. “I suppose I should thank you for taking care of Marie, you withered old bat.”
Theresa huffs and frowns severely, looking wholly unimpressed at his taunting tone.
“So you’ve matured just enough to show gratitude where it’s warranted then, you criminal,” she snipes. She tries to continue, surely to mention how much of a thug he is, or his status as a delinquent ex-convict, but something stops her. A change in Gauche’s posture, the ridgid way he holds his shoulders. He refuses to face her, to show her the truth in his eyes as he finally says the one thing he owes her after all this time.
She’s more than earned it. For once, he’s not thinking on behalf of Marie when he clears his throat to speak.
“Also…I’m glad you didn’t die.”
There. He said it. And that’s enough emotion for the day. He won’t say anything else, instead focusing back on his sister to avoid Theresa’s stupid gaze behind his back.
He knows what he’ll find there. Something warm. Something proud. He’s not quite ready to face that yet.
And of course, Asta has to barge in and ruin everything. But by then the damage is already done, and he can’t make himself attack the brat in earnest anymore.
Marie giggles as she hangs from Asta’s bicep. Okay, maybe Gauche can burn him, just a bit…
Eventually he does have to say goodbye, leaving Marie in the care of the Sisters once more. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t more anxious than usual this time, especially after Marie was kidnapped. But Theresa is there, still kicking after all this time, and he figures she’ll protect his little Angel just as well.
The Black Bull headquarters is as loud as ever when they finally make it back, an entire circus of idiot clowns as always. Gauche, Asta, Yami and Noelle for some reason, stumble through the door to find the regular antics of their squad-mates. The captain dismisses them with a grumble, staring unhappily into his almost empty cigarette pack. Gauche turns to limp back to his room when he feels a sharp tug on his hood that drags him back, teetering on his heels, until he’s faced again by Captain Yami, those shrewd eyes of his staring down like twin daggers.
“Not so fast,” Yami growls. “I wanna talk to you.”
Gauche scowls. “What is it, Captain? Can't you see I’m headed to my room? I have another portrait of my beloved sister to draw, I don’t have time for this-”
A warm hand settles on his hair and Gauche freezes, his voice dying out. Yami leans down, meeting his gaze, and smirks around another cigarette.
“I told you, didn’t I?” he chortles. “You did good, kid. You protected us all today, and I won’t forget that.” His fingers ruffle fondly through his hair before the captain withdraws, stepping back.
“When I first met you, I saw the potential for a great magic knight. Maybe you have a weirdly creepy obsession with your sister, but deep down, you have a heart of honor, and the mettle to protect whatever you feel the need to. You showed me I was right. Keep up the good work.”
The captain’s eyes shine as he grins broadly down at him and for once, Gauche has no absurd retort. Warmth surges through his chest, a feeling he can no longer deny no matter how much he wants to.
The pride of his captain floods through him and for once in his life, it’s a warm feeling he accepts that has nothing to do with Marie at all. Instead, it has everything to do with his own merit, effort, and the goodwill of someone who saw past the barriers he’d built around his heart to his true self behind it all.
The captain walks away, muttering something about beating some sense into a certain teleportation mage, but Gauche doesn’t move for a good long while. His scalp tingles where Yami had mussed his hair, and he reaches up to ruffle it back into place. The tingle spreads to his cheeks and Gauche frowns, hissing out a frustrated ‘tsk!’
“Whatever,” he grumbles to himself. “I don’t need your praise, you damn gambler.”
Shaking himself, Gauche forces his legs to move, making his way back to his room. And if by the time he gets there, he forgot what he’d planned to do, it doesn’t matter in the long run. He changes into his night clothes and crawls into bed, feeling strangely light despite the chaos all around him, and not quite as loathe to be surrounded by these self sacrificing idiots as he once might have been, merely one day prior.