New Jersey Pine Barrens:

  James Toranaga had no idea. No idea at all, just how complicated his life truly was. He was the scion of what was probably the single most powerful sorcerous line to ever have existed on planet Earth. His mother was, by most common measurements, an alien. His grandfather's involvement in world war two had been no small incentivization in the creation of the atom bomb.

  James Toranaga had a complicated life. He was currently trying to get over the loss of his best friend. He was trying not to think too hard about whether or not he was in love with his other best friend. He was singularly failing in that regard more often than not. And to top it all, James Toranaga was having near enough the worst week of his life.

  It may surprise, then, to note that James Toranaga was having a very good day.

  He was, at this moment, suspended some forty feet above the forest floor, nestled in against the bark of a pine tree, determined not to make a sound.

  "Come out, come out, wherever you are," his mother called ominously from somewhere above and somewhat to the left of him. He suppressed a snicker. For having discovered she could fly all of eighteen hours ago, Sarah Toranaga had taken to her new abilities like a duck to water.

  James liked to think it was because she had a very good teacher. He waited until he saw her form floating into view over the canopy, before slowly edging his way about the trunk, the better to shield himself from view.

  Sarah did not notice the noise when her son’s rucksack caught on a stray branch. She did, however, notice the barrage of muffled cursing that followed.

  She swiveled in the air, and after a few moments, found her prey, a predatory gleam alighting in her eye.

  “Found you.”

  James blinked.

  “Oh crap.”

  He took off. A moment later, so did she.

  “Coming for ya!”

  In the day to day, James really didn’t consider himself that much of a show off. He was pretty sure Casper might have something to say about that assessment, but for his part, he liked to think he kept the majority of what he could do pretty nicely under wraps, especially where the superpowers were concerned. In this moment, though, in a cordoned off training area in the literal middle of nowhere, he felt a bit less need to be discrete. It was time to show his mother just how fast he could really go.

  “Snooze you lose, Mom!” And with that, like a bullet, he was off. She shouted something after him. He did not hear it. He was zooming, at first over the canopy, then up, up, towards the sky, and the sparse covering of clouds above.

  He glanced back, and caught a brief glimpse of his mother trailing ever further in his wake, before he lost her against the backdrop of forest green.

  He made the cloud line entirely unmolested, and with a winner’s grace, ducked casually into one of the smaller ones, trusting it to shield him from view.

  In retrospect, his first mistake was getting cocky.

  It was just as he was drifting upwards, aiming to conceal himself above the top of the cloud while finding somewhere new to hide when, with a sound like God clapping his hands, his particular chunk of cloud exploded. James was sent tumbling base over apex with a yelp. He righted himself, spun around to face whatever the heck that was, and was promptly prodded in the ribs by his quietly triumphant mother.

  “Tag,” she said, just a little smug.

  “What the heck was that?” he spluttered.

  “That was tag,” his mom repeated. “You’re it.”

  “... No fair,” he grumbled, his arms folding. “You cheated.”

  Sarah shrugged.

  “Well, I mean. My twelve year old was acting like hot shit. Had to bring you down to earth.”

  James’ eye twitched.

  “I. Am thirteen.”

  “Oh yeah?” His mother grinned. “Prove it.”

  “Oh you are on.”

  What followed was, to James’ knowledge, the most exhilarating game of tag ever played by the race of man. If he and his mother actually counted as that, at least.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  It ended, as all things must, when the radio buzzed at James’ hip, a voice from one of the officers at the perimeter of the training zone, warning of civilians getting close enough to risk catching sight of them. All the same, James didn’t want to drive home yet. He was bubbling; energy bursting in his veins like he’d been filled with soda pop. His mother, it seemed, was of a similar mind. She suggested going for a hike.

  “You’re so lucky I had a shield up,” James grumbled playfully, some half an hour or so later. “Getting wind blasted by my own mom would be a crappy way to go.”

  His mother snorted.

  “It’s not luck. I saw you putting that thing up, remember? Just before we started.”

  “Yeah,” he admitted with a shrug. “First thing Jiji and Baba ever taught me, honestly. Never, ever, do training without a shield up. Especially if you’re working with a newbie.”

  “Oh so I’m a newbie, am I?”

  “You’ve had superpowers since yesterday.”

  “I’ve had superpowers for almost a year, thank you very much.”

  “You have?” he asked, wrongfooted.

  “Yeah,” she replied, gracing him with a sidelong look. “Ever since someone got himself stranded on an alien world with a psychic death monster.”

  “... Right yeah that would be pretty stressful. Sorry, mom.”

  “That’s alright.” His mother smirked. “Just don’t do it again.”

  “No promises are made.”

  “Sounds about right. C’mon-” she pointed to a fallen tree a few hundred feet further on. “Snack time.”

  James shrugged his shoulders and ambled over with his mother to the log in question. Apple slices were had. Conversation about nothing. James was chill. Genuinely chill, for the first time in days. It was nice. Then his mother ruined it with just seven words:

  “I wanted to talk about some things.”

  James felt his heart sinking like a rock.

  “No offence,” he muttered. “... Do we have to? I’m happy. Can I just have that?”

  His mother winced.

  “I think we do, yeah. Sorry.”

  ‘Crap.’

  He sighed.

  “Okay. Lay it on me. Is it a pep talk? Cuz the mood’s already ruined anyway, so.”

  Sarah opened her mouth to answer that, then hesitated.

  “No,” she said eventually. “This is… Something harder to talk about.”

  James frowned.

  “If you’re about to ask if I’m gay, I came out to Dad like a week and a half ago and I know maybe I should have started with you but-”

  Sarah snickered.

  “Dude I’ve known that since you were eight. It’s not that.”

  James shrugged that one off as best he could. “Ok, well, what?”

  Sarah looked him in the eye.

  “It’s about Charlie.”

  ‘God dammit.’

  “... Did something happen?”

  “No news yet. I want to talk about how you’re dealing with it.”

  “I’m handling it fine,” he replied, a touch defensive.

  His mother didn’t challenge him on that. She was good at stuff like that. Letting him keep his pride.

  “Better than a lot of people would,” she allowed. “Were you into him?”

  “... Yeah. First big crush.”

  “I figured.”

  They were quiet for a while. Sarah pulled a granola bar from her bag, snapped it in half, and offered one of them to James.

  “It tore you up when he left.”

  James wasn’t sure what to say to that. He broke off a chunk of honey nut crunch with his teeth, refusing to look at her.

  “Yeah,” he muttered.

  “And now he’s back, and nothing’s changed.”

  James chewed, swallowed. Didn’t answer.

  His mother glanced sidelong at him.

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “Why? I’m not the one who got mind-wiped.”

  “And Charlie’s not my son,” she replied, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “He’s got his own mom to worry for him. You’re my job.”

  James groaned, his shoulders slumping slightly, trying to hide inside himself.

  “I’m doing fine, Mom.”

  Again, she didn’t challenge him. Just sat there, waiting.

  His shoulders slumped a little further.

  “... It hurts.”

  “I know.”

  “I wanna help him.”

  “Of course you do.” She sighed. “I’m not your dad. I don’t know magic like you do. I can’t give expert advice. So, let me ask you this. With all your powers. All your spells. Is there anything you can do to help?”

  James groaned. He’d been wracking his brain trying to answer that for days.

  “I dunno,” he muttered. “Maybe.”

  “Something your dad or your grandparents couldn’t do?”

  “... I could talk to him?”

  “Think that’d help?”

  James didn’t reply to that. He didn’t want to admit what the answer was.

  His mother put her hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m gonna tell you something that’s gonna make me sound like the worst person ever, yeah?”

  James cocked his head a little to look at her. She gave his shoulder a squeeze.

  “I think you need to let him go.”

  James shuddered at that. He shrugged her hand off his arm.

  “He’s fourteen. It’s not his fault.”

  “I know. But he’s not your job.”

  James tried to find a counter for that. It felt wrong. Sarah waited for an answer. None came. She continued:

  “You know why Casper still hangs out with Father?”

  James huffed.

  “Cuz he’s a dumbass.”

  His mother laughed.

  “It’s because he’s kind.” She leaned forward in her seat, shifting her face into his field of view. He looked away. “He’s found someone he cares for. Even though it’s a really shitty, stupid idea, and everything is wrong, he still cares. And he can’t bring himself to let go. Because he can’t admit there’s nothing he can do to help.”

  Well, they could agree on that, at least.

  “Try telling him that,” he muttered.

  “I did.” His mother sounded very tired all of a sudden. “But his problem is the same as yours. You can’t save people who don’t want to be saved.”

  "... Why's that mean I have to give up?"

  His mother bumped his shoulder with her fist.

  "Because as long as you have hope. He can hurt you," she said quietly. "If we save him. All of us. Then great. Job done. You can fall for his straight butt all over again. But if we fail? If we keep failing? It'll hurt again. Every single time. Why put yourself through that, when there's nothing you can do?"

  For the first time in his entire life, James glared at his mother.

  "Because he's important."

  Sarah sighed.

  "Of course he is."

  James held the glare as long as he could manage, then returned his gaze to his granola bar. He wasn’t hungry.

  “I can’t… I can’t walk away. Not if I haven’t done everything I can.”

  He could tell his mom was gazing at him. He could practically feel her concern drilling a hole in the back of his head.

  “That’s fine,” she said eventually. “But can you promise me. When you have tried. When you do run out of options. That you’ll move on?”

  James considered that as best he could. Move on. He could do that. Give up on trying to make it right. Just let it all be broken. He could do that. Maybe.

  It’d stop his mom from worrying.

  "... Ok."