How to Catch a Fox (Ban X Reader)

Childhood Memories

This next chapter is a complete flash back of the reader's childhood for expository purposes. Basically, it's some background on the reader that's set in the past. Sorry if it gets kind of depressing at first, but it will end up alright.
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Here lies __________. Slain by Holy Knight B. He shall be missed.

This was what was carved on the tombstone resting before you. It was one of many in the cramped Bramstow cemetery. So many people were lost in the Holy War, this grave occupant was no exception. He was slain by unrighteousness that was the Holy Knight Order. They battled each other through the city streets, not once considering the collateral damage inflicted upon the residents of their battlefield. Some graves belonged to the Holy Knights themselves. Others were just casualties, caught in the line of fire.

Bramstow was small enough before, now it was a ghost town. People, once bustling through the streets with chatter and laughter, mourned their fallen. Everyone had someone to grieve over, someone lost. This fact is what made you jump when a solemn hand landed upon your shoulder.

Behind you, a voice mumbled quietly.

"Your father was a good man."

You turned slowly and found a skinny old man wrapped in bandages and enshrouded by a heavy black overcoat. He sadly observed the grave. You recognized him as one of the men who helped to protect the people of Bramstow, fighting along side your father.

You felt the tears create watery tracks down your face for more to follow.

"Why did the Holy Knights hurt him then? Why are they so mean?"

The man frowned, something that looked out of place on him.

"Not all holy knights are mean, the mean Knights are just the loudest ones. They are the only ones you can hear nowadays. They make a ruckus and make a scene to garner attention to feel powerful and mighty, not for the safety and benefit of the kingdom. We call that greed and avarice and we suffer the more for it..."

You brushed your tears away with the back of your sleeve.

"Is greed bad?"

The man produced an oval-shaped locket from under his overcoat. He swept his thumb over the polished gold. "Not always, young one. Not always." His eyes drifted off in the distance, watching something not visibly there. A latent memory perhaps... Eventually, he spoke.

"Those holy Knights think they are strong because they have power. True strength is from here." The man patted the spot on his chest where his heart lies.

"Your coat?" You asked inquisitively. 

The beginning of a smile dawned upon his face, but faded as quickly as it appeared.

"No child. Your heart."

"But my heart hurts..."

The old man's gaze was filled with pity. He kneeled to your level, placing both hands on your shoulders.

"It will for a while, young one. The strongest people are the ones who have known pain the most."

You looked into his bright blue eyes.

"Can you teach me to be strong?"

The man stands up, smiles and tilts his head.

"That depends. Are you willing to learn?"

You nodded vigorously.

"Come along then. We start tomorrow."