Prodigy
The Night Market drew to a close and she was relieved of her shift. She traveled with the breaking dawn at her back. Through alleys and within shadows, she found her way back to the rented room in the Rakuza district. A cup of tea- though she’d have preferred coffee- was waiting.
A grimace touched her lips as she fished a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. Placed them next to her lacquered mask. It stared without word, it’s puckish grin speaking volumes. Her brow dipped into a furrow. She took a ginger sip of tea. Silence left room for wandering thoughts. Memories brewed in the steam that drifted from her cup.
And in the quiet she remembered when she first heard the word prodigy...
The sun blistered terracotta roads. It was the kind of heat that siphoned the moisture from the air, and promised only sweat and fetid heat. Her and A’gust found reprieve under the shop’s awning. Huddled together as they watered the plants. The watering can had been two sizes too large for Auggie. Thus, he held it between both hands and tipped it with his whole body, showering Desert Saffrons in a dewy mist. Max supported the underside of the can to keep him from falling over. Her lips curled in a tender smile as she watched his ears flick with concentration.
She tried to ignore the stench of cigarette ash and the dry-prattle of a smoker’s cough that coated the air. Yet curiosity always got the best of her, and so she stole a glance towards the chairs set up outside the shop door.
Father and his brother - who had traveled two days and three nights by Chocobo to visit from Black Brush Station- sat across from one another. A pack of Woodbine cigarettes and an ashtray shared between them over a game of Triple Triad. Father drew a heavy drag from his cigarette, and held the smoke in as he mulled over his next move.
“I tell you no lies, Jasper..” -Smoke rolled off his lips- “She is clever beyond her years.” He plucked a card from his hand and flicked it into the ever-growing pile.
Uncle Jasper shuffled through his hand before drawing another card. A grimace touched his lips. “Everyone says that about their children.” He chewed on his cigarette, concentration weighing on his brow. “Just ‘cause they can spell their bloody name doesn’t make them a genius.”
“So pragmatic in your thinking.” Father reclined in his chair, cards set aside in favor of folding his hands in his lap. “Has the sun dried what little optimism was left in you? Baked you into a jaded stone?”
“Stop,” -Jasper tossed a card onto the table- “Talking in riddles, brother. If’n you’re so keen on it, then prove it to me.”
Laughter rumbled in Father’s chest and remained trapped there until he fell into a coughing fit. He waved off concerned looks offered by Jasper and his children. After a moment’s time, he found his withered smile and beckoned both Max and A’gust hither.
A’gust looked up to Max, eyes wide and ears flicking. She offered a reassuring smile and helped him with the watering can. It was left to sit by a pot of budding Nopales. They both walked hand-in-hand to their father’s side.
“A’gust.” Father clapped a weathered hand on top his head, ruffling his hair. It brought a meek grin to the boy’s lips. “Fetch me quill and parchment, please.”
A curt nod given before the young Miqo’te slipped inside on quiet feet. Jasper quirked an eyebrow in question. Max met his dubious expression with a indignant pout.
“Poor mute. Is he daft?” he asked, snuffing out his cigarette.
“No. He talks,” she quipped, “Just not to strangers.” The heat of Father’s disapproval pressed on the back of neck, setting the hairs on edge. She kept her gaze trained on Uncle Jasper. As an after thought she added, “He’s very shy...”
Father’s dower countenance remained until A’gust returned with asked items. The furrow lifted from his brow, replaced by a smile of a warmer vintage. “Thank you,” he breathed, rewarding the boy with another pat on the head. “Now then...”
Father scrawled a throng of numbers. Max watched from the corner of her eyes. His hand unsteady belied the age which creased his eyes and pulled his cheeks into jaunt hollows. The other children’s fathers were old, but hers was much older. While some held fragments of youth, Father kept only remnants hinted at by the auburn color that clung to his hair, and the glimmer of light in his eyes as he worked.
“Here, Maxi.”
He slid the parchment to Max and placed the quill in her hand. “Solve it.” A finger thumped the written problem: (♏︎🝮 ) 13℥ + 14 🜹 * + 10℥🜖 + 🜄 4 ♂2 ⊛4 → ( ♈︎🝮 ♋︎ 4🝮 ♏︎ 2🝮 )26℥ + ( ♋︎ 🝮 ♏︎ 4🝮 )__ ℥ r + 7℥ Potassium → (♏︎🝮 ) 18℥ + ( ♋︎ 2🝮 ) __ ℥ + __ ℥ ☿
“As we’ve practiced.”
Pin-pricks danced up Max’s arms as an icy-chill dripped into her stomach. She swallowed hard, looked between Jasper and her father, and placed quill to paper. The weight of their attention pressed heavily on her shoulders. She hated performing. It muted the warm thrum of numbers in her head, twisting them into knots, until her ears started to ring.
These symbols were her needle and the numbers her string. And with held breath, she sewed together a perfectly balanced formula that felt pleasing in her mind.
She released a sputtering sigh. Turned the paper back to Father. Bit her lip as he looked over her answer: (♏︎🝮 ) 13℥ + 14 🜹 * + 10℥🜖 + 🜄 4 ♂2 ⊛4 → ( ♈︎🝮 ♋︎ 4🝮 ♏︎ 2🝮 )26℥ + ( ♋︎ 🝮 ♏︎ 4🝮 )14℥ r + 7℥ Potassium → (♏︎🝮 ) 18℥ + ( ♋︎ 2🝮 ) 13℥ + 10℥ ☿
His smile could’ve outshined the stars.
“You see that?” Father held the parchment up, ignorant of his own brother’s perplexity. “Can your child do that? Hm?”
Jasper crossed his arms with a chuff. “No,” he professed, “I suppose not.”
“You suppose right!” Father cackled, “Neither of your children hold a candle to my girl.” He drew Max into his arms. The scent of alchemical ash and cigarette smoke washed over her, warming the misgivings which stirred in her stomach. She smiled to herself.
“My prodigy.”
Max clucked her tongue, the last of her bitter tea drained from the mug. A tired sigh fell from her lips.
Another shift at the Night Market waited...
... And she was so awfully tired.