Harmony

“Viola!” Octavia screamed.

“Domino!” Harper shouted.

“What the hell was that about?” Octavia cried, gesturing wildly in Domino’s direction. “You could’ve killed him!”

“I knew I wouldn’t,” she insisted, pulling Silver Brevada close to her chest.

“What do you mean you knew? How could you possibly know?”

Her tone was remorseless. “Remember that ‘nothing’ I told you I was following? I think I might know what it is. I just don’t know why.”

When Octavia continued to stare at her, tugging at her braids out of pure stress, Viola exhaled sharply. “It’s the same feeling I had the night we met.”

Octavia blinked. “Do you mean…”

Viola squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “Listen, I need to figure this out later. All I can tell you is that I knew, and I don’t know how I know that I knew.”

The methodology of the discovery was a mystery to be unraveled, at some point. That point was not now, and Viola’s assault had shone light on a dilemma much larger. Truthfully, there was little else the Maestras could contribute towards solving the issue. That problem was someone else’s.

“Are you friggin’ serious?” Harper yelled. “Where did…how?”

“Oh?” Domino said coyly. “You know about it? She’s got one, too? Does this have anything to do with where you’ve been this whole time?”

“Where the hell did you get that?” Harper snapped. If his tone was anything to go by, Octavia assumed he’d long since transcended “angry”.

“You have one, too, don’t you?”

“Domino,” he growled, his hands balling into fists.

“You do, don’t you?”

Harper was silent for a moment, inhaling slowly through his nose and out through his mouth. He closed his eyes, his whole body shaking with what Octavia could reliably assume was abject rage. At the angle his body faced Domino, Royal Orleans’ case on his back wasn’t immediately obvious. Nonetheless, the likelihood of Domino not coming to a Harmonial realization was rapidly shrinking by the minute. Octavia bit her lip. Viola had already outed herself as a Maestra. Lying may have been fruitless, at this point.

“Yes,” he finally said, his voice trembling. “I do have one.”

Domino smirked. “I figured.”

“Where did you get yours?”

“You already know.”

Harper narrowed his eyes. “There are two possible answers to this question that I ‘already know’, and I’m not fond of either one of them. Spit it out.”

Domino shrugged, rolling the harmonica between his fingers again and again. “Stoooole it,” he sing-songed. “Just like I know you hate me doing.”

“Ah,” Harper mused with a disdainful chuckle. “Is this a spite thing?”

“Not everything in our lives revolves around you, believe it or not. We can get by just fine without you. We can protect ourselves just fine without you. I can protect myself just fine without you.”

“You never answered my question,” Harper hissed. “What do you need protection from? What’s going on?”

Domino was quiet for a moment, squeezing the body of the harmonica tightly in his palm. “Harper, out of the bare minimum amount of respect I have for you getting me this far, I’ll at least spare this much. There’s been some freaks prowling around the camp recently during the daytime. Sometimes at night, not that often. Not sure who, not sure why. They’ve broken things, ripped things down. I’ve heard them yell threats before.”

His eyes widened. “What kind of threats?”

Domino raised his free hand. “Shut up. I’m not done. They’re not drunks. They’re the kind of guys from the part of the city you don’t mess around with. Like I said, I don’t know what they’re doing over here. All I know is I don’t want them anywhere near the kids.”

Domino gestured widely around the camp with one sweeping motion of the same arm. “During the day, I make sure everyone gets the hell out of here. They go play, some of them go find work, they just know to stay away from here. At night, they can eat here, they can sleep here, they can even sleep in a bit if they want to in the mornings, but then everybody’s gotta go. They know the drill. It’s been like this for a month.”

“Can I talk now?”

Domino held up three fingers, tilting his head. “You get three questions, and we’re done.”

Harper bristled. “Is this in any way related to Ho--”

“I’m so sick and tired of you badmouthing my cousins. I don’t owe you an answer about anything related to them. Leave them alone, Harper, so help me God.”

“Stay away from them.”

“I’m not kidding, Harper.”

Octavia was only just now conscious of the way her hands ached from squeezing them together so violently. She wriggled her fingers, desperate for circulation as she prayed on Harper’s behalf. Standing in his place would be miserable. Three questions wasn’t enough. One million questions was already pushing it.

Harper paused for a moment before raising his eyes to Domino’s, his expression blank. “What’s that harmonica’s name?”

Domino raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Answer me.”

“Have you gone insane? That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever--”

“Now.”

“Broken Bliss.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Domino’s eyes went wide. His lips were left parted in abject shock in the wake of the name fleeing his tongue. Harper smirked.

“You don’t know a damn thing about that harmonica, do you?”

Domino leveled him with a glare. “You think you’re better than me? You think you know something I don’t?”

“Oh, I know a lot of things you don’t, and especially about this.”

“I know enough to use it, and that’s what matters. Don’t need anything else.”

“I get three questions, right? Here’s my third question.”

With empty eyes and the most neutral expression he could muster, Harper’s breath rattled as he exhaled. “Have you ever killed anyone with that harmonica?”

His words immediately left Octavia stiff. She wasn’t certain whether a “yes” or “no” was worse. One way or another, they needed a toll. In a perfect world, much like Etherion, it would have been paid long before it ever reached Domino’s hands. In a not-so-perfect world, much like the one she tended to live in, it was extremely possible that the burden would fall to Domino. She bowed her head, hands clasped together in prayer. As to which answer she was praying for, she was wildly unsure.

“Yeah.”

Harper didn’t scream, shout, yell, or any combination of the three. When tears sprung to his eyes, Octavia almost mirrored the same.

“How many?” he spoke with surprising coolness, binding his unshed sorrow with a willpower Octavia could never match.

Domino was unfazed. “Three.”

Only now did Octavia feel sick to her stomach, clapping one hand over her mouth. They came with three tolls, then. It was the most she’d ever seen tethered to one Harmonial Instrument, and in the hands of a child.

“Three?” Harper and Viola cried in horrified unison.

Their sudden outburst made Domino recoil, taking several uncomfortable steps backwards. “In self-defense, idiot! These people, they never got close to the kids, but they got close to me! Does that not matter to you?”

Harper’s eyes continued to shimmer with pain. Slowly, he took one step forward. He took another, then another, until the gap between himself and Domino had closed by roughly half its original distance. With one hand extended before him, he came to a complete standstill.

“Give me the harmonica,” he said firmly, his voice unwavering.

His words made Domino flinch, an expression of true hurt flickering over the boy’s face for a moment. It was brief, and a bitter laugh took its place. “What, I don’t have the right to protect myself? Everyone else can be safe but me? That’s how little you care?”

“Give it to me.”

“I finally have one thing to myself, one thing that’s genuinely mine, one way I can keep myself and the people I care about safe, and you want to take that from me? Leave us to get hurt, leave us to die, and you get to keep yours? So you can go play around and live a nice comfortable life while the rest of us fight to survive?”

“Domino, I’m not asking.”

“Holly and Ivy were right about you.”

Harper straightened his shoulders. “I’ll make sure you never have to do something like that again. I’ll protect you myself.”

“No you won’t.”

Despite his rhetoric, he still found the drive to smile--soft and true. “I’ll protect you.”

Domino shook his head. “I don’t believe you. You can’t do a damn thing. You can’t protect any of us, especially without your…whatever this is! I can barely protect anyone with mine!”

Harper raised an eyebrow. “Just to clarify, you’re not gonna give me the harmonica?”

Domino only glared. “Obviously not.”

He shrugged, turning back towards Octavia and Viola. “Should I?”

Octavia tilted her head. “Should you…what, exactly?”

All of the distance he’d narrowed between himself and Domino was useless. He returned to the two Maestras, sliding Royal Orleans’ case down into his arms. “Can one of you hold this?”

Octavia did as was requested, cradling the trumpet’s home carefully. Viola lifted Silver Brevada nervously in the direction of her lips, hands stilling on their way up with hesitation. “We’re not…serious about fighting a kid, right? I know I started it, but isn’t this a bit much?”

Harper grinned. “We’re not gonna. Well, you’re not. Trust me, okay?”

Octavia blinked. “You’re gonna fight him?”

When he only fixed her with the same knowing smile, she extended Royal Orleans’ case in his direction. He patted the case gently, pressing back against it instead.

“No,” Viola deadpanned. “You’re an idiot. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“What?” Octavia asked, lowering the case tenderly to the ground. She hoped Orleanna didn’t mind a bit of gravel, even within the safety of her home.

Harper paid Viola no mind, rolling up his trousers carefully and adjusting his sleeves. He did much the same for the rest of his clothes, firmly securing his cap. With several precise motions of his arms, he stretched each and every muscle he could with care. Octavia blinked. It clicked.

“You’re serious? This is stupid.”

Harper peeked over his shoulder mid-stretch, his arms aloft as he cracked his knuckles together. “You don’t think I can do it?”

Octavia bit her lip. “You’re gonna get hurt. With your bare hands? Really?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I need to prove a point.”

Viola growled. “God, is this a masculinity thing?”

“All I need to hear to pull it off is that Octavia thinks I can do it. What do you say?” he teased.

His grin was infectious. Even fearing for his safety, she had to fight to suppress the same. “I think you’re being cocky, I think you’re being stupid, and I think you’re gonna get seriously injured trying to fight a Maestro without a Harmonial Instrument. I think you’re making a terrible decision, is what I think.”

Harper only beamed harder. “You didn’t say no.”

Harper had two notable advantages over Domino that were apparent the moment he took off--his speed and his general agility. It was no secret that Harper was fast, although whether or not he could outrun the flames of a Harmonial Instrument remained to be seen. As to agility, then, he was in full control of speed that otherwise would’ve been rough and untamed. Octavia had never seen him stop so quickly before, skidding to sharp halts and shifting in the opposite direction with his body low to the ground. On occasion, his fingers brushed against the gravel like a rudder, steering him as needed.

Octavia had seen him run in a straight line. She’d seen him dart around corners, sometimes. This was on an entirely different level. Harper wasn’t more agile than Renato by any means, and that much was a given. It didn’t matter. He had his own physical talents.

The gap that had taken ages to narrow before, plagued by slow, loaded footsteps rife with tension, was no more in mere seconds. If the look on Domino’s face meant anything, the spontaneous implementation of Harper’s essentially deranged plan was enough to leave him stunned. It took him a moment to raise the harmonica to his lips once more. Shaken or not, what came forth spoke little to his status as a novice Maestro. While his control over the flames themselves was unrefined at best, they were highly abundant in a way Harper’s were not.

Harper was far from a weak Maestro. It was the instrument, maybe. Octavia had never seen two Harmonial Instruments both born of the will of fire before. Again came the same spinning wheel of flames, ravaging the air as it blasted outwards in Harper’s direction. It was more defensive than anything, broad and generalized in its attack. The difficulty came in dodging, for how few options Harper had to escape a scorching wall. More than anything, she feared he’d be burned--horrifically. How he’d sincerely thought this was a good idea was beyond her.

His retreat was rapid, his skillful control over his speed serving him well. He changed direction entirely, eluding the rush of fire as it charged forward. With several yards stolen between himself and the wrath of Domino’s song, the flames fizzled and died at last. Once more, only stray embers and scattered mirages stood in their wake. From a distance, even with his head down and his speed never faltering, Octavia could vaguely see his mouth moving rhythmically. She squinted. He was counting.

Harper’s eyes flickered upwards towards Domino, one hand readjusting his cap, and the cycle began anew. He dashed forwards for a second time, claiming an angle slightly more leftwards. The same attack followed, unforgiving flames fanning out and pressing onwards indiscriminately. The thick expanse of the opaque inferno swallowed its Maestro whole, his fiery melody the only offering from the eye of the burning storm. It was solely in the respite between bursts of the same repeated offense that Domino was visible. His expression behind the Harmonial Instrument raised to his lips was indiscernible, from afar or otherwise.

Again, Harper neared the barrier of fire as it grew close enough to risk scorching his sandy bangs. Again, just the same, he quickly backpedaled as fast as he’d come. His mouth moved once more, although whether words were spoken aloud over the roar of the flames remained a mystery.

Octavia gulped. He was cutting it far too close. She prayed he knew what he was doing.

When the same cycle of events happened thrice in succession, with Harper dashing in at an angle and greeting a fiery blockade, Octavia caught the pattern. So, too, did she catch the weakness. Whether relative to the success of his predictable assault thus far or otherwise, Domino’s offense had consisted of one methodology alone. He offered up no variety. There came no alteration of his flames in any size, shape, or capacity. There was much to be done with fire, if Harper had been any indication after mild training.

It wasn’t that Domino didn’t know what he was doing, for how the will of fire at his fingertips was already ruthless. Still, fire was complex, versatile, and somewhat lost in the hands of one so new to Octavia’s world. The harmonica’s name was a mystery until moments ago, and she was all but positive that Domino had very little idea of what was actually happening. Against a normal person, his power would surely be lethal. For more reasons than one, Harper was absolutely not a normal person.

The second problem was his breath control. Harper had apparently figured that out.

With each pulse of flame outwards, the steps Harper stole in reverse to widen the gap were decreasing. The raging fires pressed forward the slightest bit less each time. So, too, had Harper gradually gained the ability to advance further before being forced to retreat once more. He was his own vessel, much the same as his instrument. He had his limits, physically and otherwise. Octavia was no better.

For herself--and likely for Renato and Madrigal, as well--it was when their muscles gave out and their stamina shut down. For Harper and Viola, it was when their lungs could take no more. For Domino, notably smaller and younger than Harper, the unrestricted blasts of flame time and time again spoke to a misuse of perfectly good oxygen. In that way, he’d dashed straight into a war of attrition. Regardless, stamina was stamina. Running was different from playing. Octavia prayed Harper wouldn’t tire out first.

By the fifth time he encountered the flaming wall, Harper was actively chasing an opening. He’d halved the gap via pressure alone, and that much was incredibly impressive. It didn’t fully solve the issue of penetrating a fiery barricade. The flaming barrier stretched well over twice Harper’s height, borderline impenetrable at every angle.

Octavia prayed that her prior suggestion of “just running through it”, proposed with confidence several hours ago, didn’t cross his mind--violet-shaded as it had been at the time. To her immense relief, he didn’t. He backpedaled, just as before, to whatever current flame-free stopping point he’d identified.

He didn’t turn and sprint, as he’d done all along. That was new. Harper reversed, claiming careful and calculated steps. With what power he’d conserved, his sudden sprint forward left him hurtling towards the ground. With his whole body scraping the gravel, he slid clean beneath the flames, clearing the newly-fizzling fire by inches at best. Octavia audibly gasped. There was a non-zero chance he’d just burned his face.

“He’s screwed,” Viola murmured.

“Why?” Octavia asked.

“I hope he thought really carefully about what comes after this part.”

She understood Viola’s point soon enough. When he rose to his feet--albeit, with extremely impressive speed and control--she realized he was effectively gambling. His dead sprint was relentless, faster than every approach to every flame he’d managed thus far. For how much fiery wrath had erupted forth from his unrestrained song, Domino undoubtedly had little stamina management to show for it. He was, at the very least, impaired. If Harper could beat the boy to another scorching onslaught, confident in compromised breaths not his own, he won. If he was wrong, he was--quite literally--toast.

Octavia winced. Ultimately, it came down to how well he knew Domino.

“You can do it, Harper!” she cried, the words erupting from her mouth before she even realized they were on her lips.

When she spotted his brilliant grin, even from afar and even deep in concentration, she finally began to entertain the idea that his insane plan could actually work. It almost did.

If Harper were the slightest bit faster, it might’ve. If Domino were the slightest bit more fatigued, it could’ve. Had Harper lunged, he would’ve been left with two hands full of a burning harmonica. Still, with only several feet left between the two Willful Maestros, Domino found his breath at last.

Precious oxygen became a weapon, and he poured every last drop of it into the instrument. Flames licked at the silver brass as they erupted far, far too close to Harper’s body. Harper wasn’t the only one who’d identified Domino’s weakness. For once, the boy went low, the flames went up, and he harnessed the will of fire in a different way entirely.

By an utter miracle, Harper found exactly one window of opportunity. It was shorter than a second, and the thought of him missing it was horrifying. He jumped.

Still in motion, the momentum of his body carried him forth. What remained was his feet kicking off hard against the shifting gravel, launching him clear over the fiery plume springing to life beneath him. Once again, the distance was far too close for comfort, missing him by only inches. Octavia was almost positive he’d been burnt. Somehow, he pressed onwards, undeterred. That left him falling forward, inevitably, his entire body on a collision course with a Maestro that apparently despised him.

Harper outright tackled Domino, not dissimilar to the scene Octavia had witnessed at their first meeting. Somewhere in the midst of her nostalgia, the two Willful Maestros tumbled several times over. The boy writhed and kicked futilely, surrendering to gasps for oxygen shortly after. With Domino pinned beneath him or otherwise, Harper did much of the same, sweat dripping in earnest down onto the gravel. Broken Bliss, gripped tightly in Domino’s restrained hand, scraped against the ground below.

The moment they made contact with the earth, Octavia, too, was sprinting. She left a protesting Viola behind her, burdened with the weight of Royal Orleans. Harper’s safety took priority. It was a reflex.

“I bet you think you’re real hot stuff, don’t you?” Domino hissed.

“I told you,” Harper panted, “I’m a man of my word. I can protect you with or without this kind of power.”

“Why do you want this thing so bad?”

Harper released Domino’s wrists, rising to sit on his heels instead. “They’re dangerous. Not just in a ‘shoots fire at people’ kind of way, but in a different way. There’s more to them than what’s on the surface, and I don’t want you getting dragged into that world. It’s not right.”

Octavia never fully made it to the boy’s side, his heavy words slowing her in her tracks. Something stung. If that was how he felt about everything, it almost hurt.

“You’re not the hero you think you are,” Domino spat, his fingers uncurling from Broken Bliss’s body in defeat.

For a moment, Harper didn’t reach for the Harmonial Instrument. He was more than content to eye it solemnly, languishing among the gravel and grit. “Never claimed to be one. Don’t wanna be one, anyway.”

“This is your mess now.”

He smiled, a tired gesture punctuated by a lazy swipe at the harmonica. “Everything always is.”

“Harper?” Octavia asked anxiously. His words still bothered her. He was more important, and she kept it to herself. “Are you alright?”

With a laborious grunt, Harper pushed himself to his feet. It took extra effort to avoid stepping on the surrendering boy below him. “Never better. Did you watch me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I watched you almost get hurt, idiot. Make better decisions.”

His grin, in contrast to his exhausted smile, was far brighter. “You’re the good-decision-maker for both of us. My job is to look cool in front of you.”

She managed to stifle a laugh and failed to stifle a smirk. He was hard to stay angry at for long.

“These people, then,” Harper continued, peering down at Domino. “When did you say they usually show up?”

Domino’s anger, by comparison, never quite left his eyes. Regardless, he swallowed his hostility in favor of pushing his way off of the gravel. “Daytime, mostly. Randomly. The most stressful part is not knowing for sure when they’re coming next. They’ve shown up at night a few times. Haven’t seen them actually do anything at night, but you can’t expect me to be awake all the damn time.”

Harper offered one assisting hand. When the gesture was ignored, he winced. “I’ll…keep that in mind. I’ll take care of it from here on out, figure out who’s causing problems and all that. Get some rest for once.”

Domino was silent, returning a harsh gaze where words should’ve come instead.

“You did good,” Harper continued, his same gentle smile of comfort given to the boy yet again. “Protecting everyone, I mean. Now, let me show you that I mean the things I say.”

Reckless, flaming endangerment be damned, Octavia was satisfied enough with the outcome. She was still intruding on their personal business, maybe. In her defense, that had become her entire job recently. She absentmindedly reached for Stradivaria’s case behind her, softly stroking the case’s rugged material with her fingertips.

“We’ll figure it out together, Harper. Both of us. Viola, too, if she’s open to it.”

Harper nodded, beaming. “I’d love the company. No point in objecting, right?”

“So that’s it, then?”

When Domino’s words, low and venomous, slipped from his tongue, whatever optimistic atmosphere they’d pieced together darkened in an instant. He glared daggers into Harper, loathing eyes flickering between the Maestro’s face and the hand that delicately enveloped Broken Bliss.

Harper turned his head slowly, blinking much the same. “What?”

Domino exhaled once, his breath rattling all the way there. “You come out on top again? Harper saves the damn day? Domino’s a screw-up, Harper’s perfect, absolutely flawless as usual?”

Harper frowned. “You can be mad if you want, but we’re done here. I--we--need to get to work on figuring this out.”

“Right, right, because Harper knows best. Harper always knows better than everyone else.”

Harper sighed, sliding the little harmonica into his pocket. Viola did well enough with carrying Royal Orleans and Silver Brevada in tandem, although the mild annoyance on her face as she rejoined them was more than evident. Harper eyed Octavia uncomfortably.

“Let’s go. He’s just trying to get under my skin,” he said.

“Harper’s so above everything and everybody,” Domino continued with a shrug, “that he’s the only one who knows the correct way to be homeless.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow. Harper shook his head, turning on one heel preemptively. “Let’s go,” he repeated.

“Because everyone knows you’re supposed to get lucky with favors, get pity from others, get connections from nice people with morals and everything else that makes you a good person. Not like those dirty, evil people who scrape the bottom of the barrel just to survive another damn day. Not Harper, no no no.”

Even in the wake of his own dismissal, Harper’s steps onward were sluggish and hesitant. Octavia winced, reiterating the words she’d been fed. “Let’s just go, Harper.”

“You spend all this damn time going on and on about ‘making’ a family, about ‘finding’ people just like you that you care about, and then you run off with God-knows-who the minute you get the chance. These people don’t know an absolute thing about you. They don’t know you like I do, and they never will.”

“Watch your mouth,” Harper hissed.

“Let it go,” Viola requested quietly. With a tilt of her head, she gestured for the Maestros to continue in any direction except confrontation.

Harper took one deep breath, clinging to whatever calm he could scrounge together. He closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“They don’t know the things you say about other people behind their backs. They don’t know the lies that come out of your mouth all the damn time. They don’t know the things you’re afraid of or the people you’ve hurt. I bet you’ve never even told them anything more personal than what happened to your friggin’ parents. I’m willing to bet you’ve never even told them you were bor--”

That day, Octavia learned the striking contrast between the softness of Harper’s heart and the sharpness of his right hook.