#absolutely NOTHING with chunks of any kind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohnococo · 3 months

Text

Fight Night | CHAPTER 6 | MMA Fighter!Sukuna x Reader

It felt like a silly idea, taking big scary Ryomen Sukuna to get a little treat to calm him down, but your real aim was to get him outside, in the fresh air, and away from people who will remind him of everything that’s happening. For a little while at least. “Ice cream.” His response doesn’t make it feel like any less of an odd suggestion. You roll your eyes at his dubious tone. “Okay, frozen yogurt. Or are protein shakes and almond butter the only dessert you’re allowed?” This had to be the tenth sigh of the phone call, but it’s a little different - that reluctantly receptive sigh that you think could possibly maybe be reserved for you alone.

Sukuna gets some bad news about his fight, and you take him out to get his mind off of it.

Notes: We're dipping into the sweet here just a little by taking big bad Sukuna out for a little treat.

FIRST CHAPTER

LAST CHAPTER

With how cold Sukuna could come across, and with how much hand wringing you’d done over his sparse communication, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that his word does mean something. He did start to text you more often. Starting with a day later no less. Even with the conversations being seemingly mundane, you almost preferred it to seeing him in real life. You didn’t have to hide how much he made you smile or how his playful brashness made you laugh just a little bit more than it made you roll your eyes, you didn’t have to hide that maybe he had you a little bit smitten.

But then sometimes you didn’t prefer it. When the lack of tone made it so you started reading too much, or maybe too little, into his messages. It was already hard enough to tell what was standard behaviour from him, and what was vulnerability. You felt like what would mean next to nothing from someone else could possibly mean more from him, but the dead air between messages sometimes left you too much time to overthink.

This kind of constant back and forth with your own thoughts had you doing things you wouldn’t normally do, but then again most of your time with Sukuna had been a little unusual. Sometimes it worried you how far gone you were when it came to him, despite your first chunk of time together being what most would consider a foundation of red flags for a budding relationship. It worried you even more that you didn’t regret any of it. Here you were though, walking into everything with Sukuna with a new approach, and doing it willingly, happily even. You were even actually typing out the words “hey why don’t you just call me?”

It would have been unthinkable in most instances. Phone calls were only when absolutely necessary. When some business hadn’t gotten their shit together enough to let you just email them. When you just had to make an appointment you’d been putting off for days. But here you were, after finally getting Sukuna to text you and let you know he thought of you more than once in a while, and you were asking him to talk on the phone just to hear his voice.

Earlier he’d gone from asking if you’d talked to your manager about his behaviour, giving his far-too-intense for an office job suggestions on what you should say to him, to suddenly not messaging you back for a while, something that had become unusual for him over the last several days since your little lunch date. He was often as busy as you’d expected him to be, but if sparring or training or speaking with his management interrupted your chats he always preempted it with a text saying he would get back to you.

This time there was just nothing, not long enough to worry you, but enough to have you curious as to what was happening. When he did respond it was simply with the word ’fuck’ before you watched and waited as he typed and typed and typed.

He’d gotten a call telling him that his opponent might have been seriously injured during training. Then he’d just gone off, sending longer texts than he had so far and you genuinely couldn’t tell if he was just mulling over possibilities and outcomes or venting to you. And the thought of it being the latter had your heart racing, so you needed to hear his voice. Needed to hear if he was really treating you like a confidant for his emotions because the thought of that just felt so real.

He was apparently receptive to your suggestion of just discussing it over the phone, since doesn’t even text back to agree, he just calls straight away, and you take a little breath before answering.

“Hello?”

His voice doesn’t really give you an immediate answer to whether he was just filling you in or if it was more. “They just confirmed, anterior shoulder dislocation.”

He’s straight to the point as always, so you catch up as your conversation picks up where it had left off. “A dislocated shoulder, ouch… so he can’t fight?”

“No, he can’t. Apparently he got into a scrap with his team over it and only made it worse, he wanted them to hide it so he could still fight. He needs surgery though so that’s six months of recovery alone.”

He sounds unimpressed, though you can’t tell if it’s because the guy managed to get himself injured or if it was because he wouldn’t even have a chance of being cleared until two months after the fight was meant to happen. When he lets out a sigh of frustration, you suspect it’s the latter.

“So that’s bad? The guy you want to hurt got hurt?”

Sukuna’s tone is different than usual, bothered while he talks as if his thoughts were racing along an entirely different road than yours were.

“It means we can’t fight, and that means I’m going to be stuck with some nobody dumb enough to come in on short notice against me.”

He hadn’t told you who he was supposed to be fighting, but you’d looked it up on your own. It was apparently someone tough, a highly anticipated match. Some people even seemed to think this Toji Fushiguro could beat Sukuna, though from what you’d read that was still an unpopular opinion. It was a moot point now though.

“You’ll probably win against whoever it is though, right?”

He sucks air through his teeth, “I’d win either way, but I’m wasting my time for a boring fight.”

You can hear him shuffling around on whatever furniture he was on, then you can hear his heavy footsteps as he starts pacing around his home, just short of huffing and puffing in a way that lets you know that your suspicions were correct. He absolutely was venting to you.

“It’s a waste of my time, we have a minimum wait between fights too so it’ll wipe out almost the rest of the year for me. Unbelievable. I can’t even imagine what kind of fools he has on his team to have him dislocating his fucking shoulder.”

“Well…” you’re already starting before you think better of it, and when you hesitate for a moment he’s pressing you, not so far into ranting that he doesn’t want to hear what you have to say.

“Yes?” His tone makes you feel like you shouldn’t continue on, but it also lets you know that he won’t be letting you keep your thoughts to yourself right now.

“I mean, you did say you go all out in training too, right?”

“I don’t train with people who don’t know their limits. He should’ve stuck to boxing so he can just show up and win fixed fights like the rest of his family.”

That, you know nothing of though, but the shift to personal attacks feels like a little much. You can’t offer a solution. So you offer what you can.

“There’s nothing you can do about it right now though, right?”

He sighs heavily, and you can hear the soft squeak of whatever he’s sat himself down on. “Right.”

“Then why don’t we go get ice cream?”

“Ice cream.” His response doesn’t make it feel like any less of an odd suggestion.

You roll your eyes at his dubious tone. “Okay, frozen yogurt. Or are protein shakes and almond butter the only dessert you’re allowed?”

This had to be the tenth sigh of the phone call, but it’s a little different - that reluctantly receptive sigh that you think could possibly maybe be reserved for you alone.

“Fine.”

He says it like he’s begrudgingly agreeing, but you can’t help smiling wide as you note that he hasn't exactly put up any fight at all. “I know a good place.”

Another sigh, softer than the last, “I can tell you’re smiling, you know.”

You don’t mind.

As you watch Sukuna pick out the toppings for his frozen yogurt you’re surprised at the sudden discovery that he just might have a sweet tooth. You were expecting him to choose one of the low sugar options, then top it with little chunks of fruit to somehow make it as close to a healthy snack as it could get. He doesn’t though, opting for vanilla then having the woman behind the counter sprinkle over crushed cookies and dark chocolate chips.

He catches your brow raise, throwing it back at you, “Mind your business.”

You put your hands up, looking away as he’s handed his cup and a spoon and you choose your own toppings.

When you’ve made your choices and it’s time to pay, you lightly bump your hip against Sukuna’s, trying to get him to back away from the register as you pull out your wallet with your free hand. He doesn’t move, so you remind him of his words during your last date, “You said I could pay next time, remember?”

He tilts his head to the side, mouth forming a line as he lets out a curt “Hm.”

Clearly he’d hoped you hadn’t remembered that little agreement, but he moves to the side nonetheless, taking your frozen yogurt from you so you have the use of both hands to pull out your card.

You note the price as you finish paying, and wave at Sukuna to follow your lead to the outdoor seating, calling over your shoulder as you go, “I’m getting the next one too.”

“No you aren’t.”

You feign a confused look as you’re out the door before him, “Sorry, I can’t hear you.”

He’s catching up with no effort in a few long strides as you hold the door open, face betraying he was much more amused than his tone would have you believe, “You’re hard work.”

As you take your seats and he hands you your frozen yogurt, you give him a dubious look. “Can’t be as hard as body slamming 400 pound men and throwing tractor tires or whatever you do all day.”

A brief flash of surprise on his face tells you you’re closer to what he does than he thinks you realise. You know you are though, you’ve seen the little highlight reels where he turns over heavy tires, flips training partners over his shoulders, bares his teeth menacingly into the camera as a sheen of sweat and oil applied by some filming assistant makes him look godly. He didn’t look all that different from those videos when you first met, but right now he looks softer. Content.

You look down at your cup as you bring your spoon to your mouth before speaking, “I don’t want to talk about that right now though.”

“Too boring for you?”

The face you give him is one he’s earned many times before, but this time it’s less ’give me a break’ and more ’give me a little more credit’. “I wouldn’t bring it up if I didn’t care.”

His brows raise, like he’s surprised, like he doesn’t know if he can believe you.

“I just don’t want you to worry about everything with that Toji guy right now.”

His brows lower, and you feel like he’s decided he does believe you as he gives you a knowing smile. “Okay,” he nods, changing the subject, “we were talking about your work-“

“I don’t want to talk about that either. Let’s, y’know, take it easy. Talk about happy things.”

“I’m happy.”

The sentiment, and how matter of fact it’s said, catches you off guard. Then Sukuna is putting a spoonful of his frozen yogurt in his mouth, eyes still on yours, and you can’t help smiling.

“You’re happy? Not even any complaints about how this isn’t real food?”

He huffs, gesturing to the cups filled with their little frozen swirls, “This is different than greasy burgers.”

You tilt your head and raise your brows in a doubtful look, “Whatever you say, Sukuna…”

His eyes narrow at you, as if warning you to be careful about doubting his logic, but the venom runs out almost immediately as he smiles, shaking his head. “Have dinner at my house, Uraume will make us something a lot better than that.”

“I don’t know if I can lie to their face about liking boiled chicken breast and steamed broccoli.”

Now the annoyance is a little more genuine, “You liked my recommendation last time, didn’t you?”

It was nice, but as much as it pained you to stray from your half-joking narrative that Sukuna was a flavourless protein devouring machine, you won’t lie to him. “It was good, yeah.”

He points his spoon at you, as if it were putting you in your place. “Just as I thought. Don’t doubt me.”

You pretend to mull it over, as if you were going to decline spending time with him. You never had before, the both of you knew that, but he humours your little act as he eats. “Sure.”

Then, you do actually think about it for a second, remembering your agreement.

“Dinner at your place though… isn’t that a little dangerous?”

He drags his spoon around the bottom of his cup, gathering the last melted bits at the bottom, and the corners of his mouth quirk downward as he shrugs. “I agreed that I won’t fuck you. That’s that.”

Hearing him bringing up fucking, even in the context of how he won’t be doing it, has your heart beating a little faster, blood rushing upward and downward at the same time. It makes you shift in your seat, and when you look him in the eye he seems pleased by that so you force yourself to sit still.

Though the way your body is reacting is betrayed by the question you can’t help asking, “Until… when?”

His face is smug for a moment, sparking eyes and half cocked grin only making you want to press your thighs together a little tighter, but then he wipes any expression from his face, neutral as he speaks, “That’s up to you.”

“Oh…” you aren’t sure what to say to that, not having realised the ball was in your court. It sends your mind racing, and this time it’s Sukuna keeping this outing light, dipping his head lower to catch your eye and pull you out of your thoughts.

“You eat too slowly.”

There he is, practically begging you to roll your eyes at him again. You were beginning to think he thought it was cute with the way it made him smile. “Is that your way of asking to try mine?”

“No.” He reaches across the table with his spoon, taking a bit of yours and eating it.

“Uh, excuse you?” You narrow your eyes at him, holding your own spoon in front of your cup as if to parry any further attempts to steal a bite.

He’s smiling at your very much unserious display, before he’s scrunching his nose and dropping his spoon into his empty cup, “You have terrible taste.”

You do eat slowly, compared to Sukuna at least, but it’s nice to talk with him between bites. It’s even nicer to talk afterwards too, even with the sun set and the light from the shop through the window illuminating your faces. Every so often you can’t help thinking back to Sukuna telling you that he was happy. It felt good, like some kind of victory. A victory that somehow gave you butterflies and left your mouth watering at the same time.

Apparently Sukuna picks up on it, during the tenth time you replay it in your mind as he walks you to your car in the parking lot.

“I talk about fucking you once and you’re practically giddy, what am I going to do with you.” He's clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, chiding you, but then he’s just smiling down at you in a way that somehow telegraphs to you exactly what he’s going to say, “You’re just too cute.”

That hasn’t helped anything, and like usual when he pulls that little word out your brain is effectively scrambled. So instead, you lean in, getting up onto your tiptoes, and kiss him.

It’s hard work, or rather he makes it hard work as he remains standing straight. He’s barely tilting his head down and you have to brace your hands on his stomach for balance, gripping lightly at his shirt to deepen the kiss. He lets you, and there’s something thrilling about taking the lead with him for a moment, even as you strain to close the gap between your differing sizes.

It’s only for a moment though, until you’re settling back down onto the heels of your feet, regaining your balance, and he decides there’s too much space between you. He leans down and into you properly, one hand on the back of your neck, the other wrapping around you to pull you into him. It’s slow, and soft, but it doesn’t stay that way for long once you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers through his hair. Then, he’s sliding his tongue into your mouth, backing you up til you’re pressed between him and your car.

His hands play at making your kiss something less appropriate, if making out against a car five feet from a froyo shop could be considered some kind of appropriate. Running across your back, rubbing at your stomach, thumb sliding out enough to just brush the bottom of your breast. Travelling down your sides, squeezing at your hips tight enough to have your blood rushing downward even more quickly than before, but his hands always return to their place at your waist, warm and firm and holding you up when his touch leaves you dizzy and desperate.

Then, he pulls back, his gaze intense on your mouth while he clenches his jaw, lost in thought. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, lets it out through his barely parted lips and leans in until his nose is gently pressed to where your jaw meets your neck. You lean back, happy for him to go further, but he doesn’t, pressing a kiss to your neck, then your jaw, chaste but firm enough to have you leaning slightly with the pressure, then he steps back.

“I’ll see you sometime this week.”

“Yeah.” It’s all you can say, having felt how hard he was when he was pressed against you and knowing you would have let him fuck you in your car right in that parking lot if he’d only pushed a little harder. But he didn’t. He was behaving, so you were too. “See ya.”

You turn to unlock your car, and he turns to go to his own, before he’s stopped as you speak.

“Hey, will you let me know who you wind up fighting? Or do I have to read it online like everyone else.”

He lets out a little laugh, then looks pleased that you seemed to care. “I’ll text you.”

CHAPTER 7

#my writing #reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked #jjk fanfic #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #self insert #mma fighter!sukuna #mma!sukuna #mma!au

115 notes · View notes

greeenchrysanthemums · 2 months

Text

A Friend

Gem brings her new friend to meet an old friend

I could not get this post out of my head. It was distracting me from writing my au, so I had to write it, or else I would never get anything done.

CW: past injury, implied torture, implied murder/death

Words: 3,444

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Pearl sighed from where she was leaning against the boat's railing with her head pillowed under her crossed arms, knees knocking together as she tapped one foot against the deck.

Who knew being out on sea would actually be so boring. It wasn't nearly as fun or lively as the stories of pirates and navy battles made it out to be. They hadn’t even sung a single shanty this entire time! She would have taken swimming alone for hours over this any day.

She was bored out of her mind; resorting to passing her time by watching the same cloud slowly shrink and crawl across the sky at the pace of a sea slug. It didn’t help that the same annoying seagull had been circling their boat for at least 5 miles at this point, squawking up a storm the whole time, as if to mock her personally. It was driving her absolutely nutty.

"I'm bored, Gem." She whined.

"No one told you to sneak onto my ship, Pearl." Gem said, amused. The other woman was sitting on a crate, whittling away at a small hunk of wood. It was too early to tell what she was making, but Pearl had seen many of her other carvings sitting in various place around the boat, and they were all animals, so if she had to guess, this one was probably another animal of some kind. She kind of hoped it was a wolf. They were her favorite land creatures so far.

"Well, no… but you let me stay, and I'm here now!" Pearl argued, "You should entertain me!"

Gem laughed. She put her knife back into the sheath on her thigh and shoved the chunk of wood into one of the many pouches around her waist. She walked over to the mast and lowered the sail, tying off the rope with practiced ease.

"If you're bored, then you're in luck, actually. We're just about in the right spot now anyway." Gem said, walking over to where Pearl was, which also happened to be where the anchor was bundled up on the deck. She raised a hand over her eyes to block out the sun as she squinted out over the sea, a hand planted firmly on her hip.

Pearl stood up straight and followed her gaze out over the water, expecting to find something there. She didn't see any landmarks of any sort, though. No islands, no other ships, nothing like that. The only thing she could note was maybe the birds circling over a particular part of the water. Maybe there was a school of fish in that area that Gem knew about?

"Are we stopping to catch some more fish?" Pearl asked, peering over the side of the boat to try and catch sight of some.

This would be the third time they've stopped to fish during their journey to the next town. She still didn’t understand fully why Gem couldn’t just get all of her fish from one area and be done with it. Something about different species and maintaining the ecosystem, or something like that. She hadn’t paid much attention; fish was fish to her.

"Mmm, no, more like a delivery this time." Gem said, tossing the anchor overboard.

Before Pearl had the chance to ask what she meant, something big moved underneath the waves. Pearl jumped away from the rail, her back hitting a barrel, which she latched onto to stabilize herself.

"What was that!?" She exclaimed. There were only a few things that large that came to mind at the sight, and none of them were good.

Gem laughed at the display as she rolled one of the barrels of fish over towards the side of the boat.

"That," She hefted it onto her shoulder with a grunt, the bells hanging from her headband twinkling with the movement as she planted one foot up onto the rail and tossed the barrel right over the side. It hit the water with a loud splash. "Was a good friend."

There was a moment of silence before something erupted from the sea, sending water flying in every direction. Pearl ducked behind the barrel with a shout as she was doused head to toe with salty water.

"Oh, come one!" Gem shouted with a bit of a laugh. What followed was an inhuman giggle, high pitched and almost similar to that of a dolphin's call. Pearl peaked around the barrel and her heart stopped cold when she was met with the familiar sight of what was unmistakably a siren.

Their webbed, clawed hands gripped onto the railing, holding their upper body out of the water. Pink and white scars covered most of their visible, pale skin, overlapping and criss-crossing each other in ways that suggested the healed over wounds were more likely than not intentional. Green scales the same shade as kelp started at their just barely visible hips and descended down towards what Pearl would assume was a tail of the same colour. There were fins on their elbows, and twitching gills along the sides of their neck.

Her gaze traveled further up towards a cheerful face covered in scars and a smile full of teeth sharp enough to tear her apart. The most noticeable one, and the one Pearl rudely could not tear her eyes away from, was a long scar that split the left side of their face. It was thick, jagged scar tissue that started at the corner of their mouth, cut through an empty eye socket, and went out of sight into their white hair, which was cropped down almost right to the scalp and messy.

"Did you have to splash me, too!?" Gem asked incredulously, wringing out her sopping wet braid.

"Of course not, but it was funnier." The siren answered in a voice far deeper than Pearl would have imagined coming from them.

"You've got to stop doing that when I bring new people around. You're such a pain!" Gem said, voice pitching higher as she ended her sentence off with a giggle.

"But you love me." The siren said, drawing out the 'e'.

Gem sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Unfortunately, yes I do." Gem said. She then marched over to Pearl and grabbed her by the shoulders.

Pearl let out an 'eep!' as she was pulled out from behind the barrel and presented to the siren. Was this Gem's plan all along? To feed her to a sea beast? To think that she came all this way only to end up right back where she started. She stood there stiffly as Gem threw an arm around her shoulders, pointed a finger up at Pearl's face, and said, "This is my new buddy, Pearl. Pearl, this is Etho. He's one of my oldest friends."

Etho raised a clawed hand and gave her a wiggly fingered wave, his eyes crinkling at the corners from the wide, toothy smile on his face. Pearl chuckled nervously and waved back, less enthusiastically. She wasn't scared of many other magical species, but sirens were one of her exceptions. She had a not so good past with them and their territorial tendencies. The scars on her legs and stomach pulsed with phantom pains just thinking about it.

"Anyway, with introductions out of the way, where're my goods Etho?" Gem said, releasing Pearl from her hold. Pearl immediately took the chance to step back and put the barrel between herself and the siren.

Etho's mouth made an 'O'.

"Oh, right! I'll be back in a sec." He pushed himself away from the small boat and dove back into the water.

"This guy," Gem said, shaking her head with a sigh. “He’s never prepared.”

"So, uh, why are we making a pit stop to bring a dangerous sea creature a barrel of fish?" Pearl asked, suspiciously eyeing the water that the siren had disappeared into. Gem turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

"Dangerous? Oh, please, Etho wouldn't hurt a fly," She said, and then paused, putting a hand over her mouth with a squint-eyed, thoughtful look, "Unless he had to."

"That doesn't make me feel better." Pearl said with a nervous chuckle. Gem's eyes widened and then her face split into a cheeky grin.

"Wait, are you scared of Etho?" She asked with a giggle.

"Who wouldn't I be?! He could eat me in a second flat with those big teeth!" Pearl defended, crossing her arms as her cheeks burned bright red.

"Nah, it takes sirens at least three days to eat a whole human being." Gem said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Gem!?" Pearl questioned, alarmed.

"I'm just messing with you!" Gem laughed, "But seriously, Etho won't hurt you, I promise."

As if summoned by his name, Etho surfaced not even a second later, sending another splash of water that just barely missed them onto the deck. Etho peeked over the railing with an excited look on his face, which fell into a pout when he saw that he hit neither of them with the water.

"Quite messing around, would you? Get up here and show me what you got me already, you big oaf." Gem said.

"i'm not an oaf" Etho said as he tossed a thick net full of junk onto the deck and heaved himself up over the railing. Pearl gasped and ducked behind the barrel again as the siren's lanky body hit the deck with a loud thump.

Pearl’s eyes widened when she saw that the scars weren't reserved for only his upper body. The scales all along his tail were patchy in places, thick scar showing through the gaps, and his tail fin was ripped in several spots. She couldn’t help but admit that she was curious what could have caused such extensive injuries to something as dangerous as a siren, a being capable of charming their way out of just about any situation.

Gem went to sit cross legged by Etho's side as he pulled the net bag into his lap, his tail folded to the side and out of the way. Perhaps getting the deck all wet wasn’t just to be a menace, but also to make sure he could sit up here without drying out too fast, she noted as her foot splashed in the half inch of water that had accumulated on the deck…How were they going to get rid of the water when he left?

Pearl stood awkwardly off to the side, not behind the barrels anymore but not far away from them either. She could hide if she wanted to. Not that it would help her escape from a siren song, but it was the thought that counted.

"Find anything good this month?" Gem asked.

"Meh, not really." Etho replied before pulling out a few beautiful shells from the net and handing them over to Gem, who took them with a noise of excitement. "I'll have to start going further out soon. I've just about picked all the wrecks from here to Sirens' Cove clean of anything worth something."

"Hm, don't go too far. I don't need treasure so badly that you need to risk your safety..." Gem muttered, holding the shells up to the waning sun in order to inspect them. "Gods these are beautiful. Pearl, come look at these."

"Uh, um," Pearl stuttered. She would really rather not go over there. In fact, it was the last thing she wanted, but then Gem looked up at her with the most innocent and expecting smile, and she just couldn't say no. There went her plan of hiding among the barrels until Etho left.

She hesitantly went over and sat on Gem's other side, folding her legs under her in such a way that it would be easy for her to dive to the side. Gem handed her one of the shells and she took it, turning it over in her hands. It was a pretty shade of rose pink and about the size of her palm. She didn't know what animal it came from, but it was beautiful.

She jumped backward when a clawed hand suddenly shoved itself into her face without warning. Her back hit the railing and her head knocked against the wood. She hissed through her teeth and rubbed the surely forming bruise as she looked up to see Etho holding a chain out to her. She looked back and forth between him and the salt water rusted chain before gingerly taking it from his hold.

It was a necklace with a rusty silver chain and a small clam shaped locket at the end. The hinges of the locket were definitely too rusted to get open, and the whole thing looked like it would fall apart in her hands at any moment. Despite this, she could tell that it used to be a beautiful piece of jewelry. Maybe someone on land would be able to restore it to its previous glory?

"For you. Because your name is Pearl," Etho said, looking proud of himself. Pearl raised an eyebrow. His face fell into a frown and he elaborated, "Clams make pearls?"

"Oh, thank you." She said, closing her fist around the trinket.

"Hey, I thought this was supposed to be my payment!" Gem exclaimed.

"It's still my stuff! You don't even take everything half the time, I can give away whatever I want." Etho defended.

The two of them glared at each other, clearly having some sort of a silent conversation, and Pearl felt incredibly awkward watching it. She was just about to try and mediate whatever fight they had going on, unwillingly to be put between an angry Gem and an angry siren, when the two of them poorly held back chuckles before bursting out in laughter. Pearl blew out a relieved breath and let out a chuckle of her own.

"I don’t want to cause any fighting," Pearl hesitantly said, holding the locket out to Gem.

"You can keep that, Pearl, we were just joking around." Gem said, holding her hands up and refusing to take the locket.

Pearl looked down at the piece of jewelry and then shoved it into her blouse without needing to be told twice. She wasn't going to say no to free valuables. She would likely sell it once they reached land. She would need as much money as she could if she wanted to start a new life, after all. Maybe she could get more for it by spinning an elaborate tale of how she stole it from a siren.

Slowly they went through the entire contents of the bag, trying to determine what was actually of worth and what was just visually appealing. Pearl wasn’t really doing much, to be honest; only taking what Gem handed to her and giving it a once over before handing it back. It seemed to satisfy the younger woman though.

Pearl would occasionally flicker her eyes over towards the siren sitting across Gem from her, still somewhat convinced until halfway through their sorting that he was going to eat her. Her worries were quickly dispelled, however, much to her surprise. He was almost childlike with his excitement to show off certain goods to them, his enthusiasm and mannerisms actually quite endearing.

She also saw how close he and Gem seemed, an almost familial bond between the two of them. They talked and interacted with such familiarity that Pearl was led to believe that this really was a regular occurrence for them, and they seemed more than happy to include her.

She felt her heart warm in her chest the more she watched them alternate between play fighting and gushing over pretty knick knacks together. Her lips quirked into a smile as she examined another pink shell. She wondered how she had ever been afraid of him.

In the end, they split the contents of the net bag into two piles that Gem had dubbed "Goods for Gem" and "Etho's junk", which he gladly scooped back up once they were finished.

Gem stretched her arms above her head and arched her back until it popped, and Etho yawned wide, his clawed hand itching one of the patchy spots on his tail. Pearl yawned as well, and then her stomach grumbled embarrassingly loud. Etho looked over at her and giggled, causing Pearl's face to light up red once again.

"I think that's my signal to get something going dinner wise." Gem said, pushing off of the ground to climb to her feet.

"I'm getting hungry too," Etho said. He pulled part of the net bag over his shoulder, turned halfway around, grabbed onto the railing, and expertly flipped himself over the side of the boat, landing in the water with a slap that once again dowsed Pearl from head to toe.

She sighed. She had just been drying off from the first time. She pushed herself up onto her knees, shook water off of her hands, and turned around to peer over the side of the boat into the dark water. There wasn't much light to be provided by the setting sun, but there was just enough to see the general shape of Etho's head poking out of the water, bobbing along with the gentle waves.

"Are you heading out, Etho?" Gem's voice asked from beside her.

"Yeah, I've left those fish down there long enough. I have to get them home, or something will eat them before I get the chance to." Etho called back up to her.

"Alright, then, take care. Don't be a stranger." Gem said, giving him a broad wave.

"Bye Gem. Bye Pearl. It was nice meeting you. Safe travels!" Etho said before diving below the waves. Pearl gave a tiny wave goodbye; not even sure he had seen the farewell.

"Still scared of the big bad siren?" Gem asked in a teasing manner. She was busying herself with lighting the lanterns hanging outside of the cabin.

"Not really," Pearl admitted, "He seemed really sweet."

"He is a sweetheart," Gem said, "We've been friends for years now, and I've been supplying him fish just as long. It's a heavy blow to my profit, but honestly, I don't mind doing it for him."

"You never did answer my question," Pearl said, "Why do you supply him with fish?"

Gem looked hesitant at that.

"He hasn't been able to hunt very well since the...accident that caused all of his scars." She said after a moment, blowing out a breath. "His sense of direction isn't the greatest, nor is his vision, both a result of that injury to his eye that you saw. He's also not the strongest swimmer, so he has trouble keeping up with most prey long enough to catch anything. Things like sea berries, kelp, clams and crab aren't hard for him to catch, so it's not like he *needs* me to hunt for him, but he's always had a liking for the fish in this part of the sea."

She crossed her arms and set them on the railing, assuming a position similar to what Pearl had been in earlier before Etho showed up. She looked down at the rippling water with a pensive look on her face.

"When he told me he couldn't catch them anymore, I offered to bring them to him every few months in exchange for some treasure." She continued, "Like he said, though, I don't really need any of the stuff he brings me. I just know that he wouldn't take the fish unless he thought it was mutually beneficial to the both of us. He has a lot of pride like that, can't even let me do something nice for him just because I want to."

She shook her head and chuckled sadly. Pearl was silent, studying Gem's grim expression. She was beginning to realize just how big the other woman's heart truly was. Really, she should have realized it right from the very start. Not very many seasoned fishermen with Gem's kind of reputation would just accept a stowaway with open arms, let alone feed and clothe them on top of letting them stay in the same cabin as them. She was one in a million.

"Enough of that," Gem said, pushing herself away from the railing, "It's time to eat. I'm starving!"

Pearl followed Gem into the small cabin without another word, throwing one last glance at the now pitch-black waves, almost expecting to see a pair of eyes watching her. The locket felt heavy where it rested against her breast.

A friendly siren; who would have thought it. Only the gods above knew what else Gem had in store for her.

#geminitay #pearlescentmoon #shiny duo #ethoslab #hermitcraft #Danny's fics #Heart of the Sea Gem #maybe i'll write more for this maybe I won't who knows #i didn't even proofread this one #i wanted it out of my head as quickly as possible #oh also in case it didn't come across well in the fic itself (which I doubt it did this was very rushed) Pearl is a mer #who gave up her tail to live as a human #gem doesn't know this and pearl doesn't know that gem is a sea creature of some kind as well #very few humans in the cast of this one

104 notes · View notes

shoezuki · 5 days

Text

Sampo likes to be vague about where they're going. It's kind of like a game to him, one that only he knows the rules to. Gepard asks, even though he knows it's nearly hopeless; where are we going? Is it a planet, a ship, a living creature? Which galaxy are we in? Is there oceans, deserts, forests? What kind of animals are there, what kind of people will they see?

Even when his questions go unanswered, Sampo's eyes gleam. Sometimes he shuts Gepard up with a kiss, a hand pressed over his heart, or teeth brushing over the column of his neck in a way that makes his breath stutter.

This time, though, Sampo is direct. For once, Gepard doesn't have to ask. Sampo wakes him up with instructions.

"Don't leave the ship," he instructs for the hundredth time as he guides the ship towards a strange, lone rock in the cosmos. The section of space they find themselves in is strange, a sweet, heavy feeling in the air. Their destination is in the midst of an asteroid field, metallic debris and chunks of meteors strewn and suspended about like someone strung them up randomly.

It's a bar, that much is evident. A sort of small, concrete building on a rough landform. It looks industrial, like someone had sliced a building out of a strip mall and deposited it here. There landform it's placed on is a small island, overrun with weathered docks made of scrap metal and decaying wood, anchored to nothing. various ships, dozens of them of all shapes and sizes, cling to the docks or are anchored to the landform itself, with ropes or chains or strange contraptions. For a desolate corner of the universe, it's packed. Yet Gepard doesn't see a single living person in sight.

"Gepard."

Sampo says his name with an uncharacteristic urgency that makes him jump, only then realizing Sampo had docked their ship as well and left them sitting in silence for however long. Sampo stands in front of Gepard now, hands on his hips and a rigid, towering figure. The starlight seeping in and the bright, flashing fluorescent lights on the bar glow from behind him, casting a shadow over his face. "Did you hear me?"

"Don't leave the ship," Gepard parrots, only half awake, with his legs crossed and a blanket draped over him. Sampo's jaw tightens. "Yes, but what else?" Gepard's sheepish silence is met with a low sigh, Sampo pinching the bridge of his nose. "Geppie, I'm being serious here, okay? This is important."

Gepard doesn't understand, but Sampo's tight posture, the pinched slant of his eyebrows, the way his stare feels intent, pointed on Gepard's skin, all makes secondhand unease curdle in his stomach. He bites his tongue and nods his head. Somehow that motion is enough to make Sampo sigh with clear relief, all but collapsing onto the rickety futon beside Gepard.

"Okay, take notes, Gepard. No-- not literally," Sampo adds on when Gepard pulls out his phone, making him blink and put it back down, attention fully on Sampo. "So, you will not leave the ship, under any circumstances. Got it? Never. You could watch the tavern collapse into itself and you still have to stay here. Don't leave and absolutely do not follow me into the tavern.

"But..." Sampo hisses between his teeth, as if pained to say more, "if for some idiotic, stupid reason that only the Aeons know of, you do go inside, there's rules you need to follow." He holds up one finger, intently watching him as if to make sure Gepard was actually paying attention. "First, don't tell anyone your name. Call yourself... the Captain, or something. No one can know your real name. Second, don't eat or drink anything. People will act all kind and hospitable or whatever and try and offer you drinks. Don't take any. Thirdly, do not dance with a single person. Don't dance at all, really. Just stay put somewhere and I'll... I'll find you, alright? Not that I’ll need to, since you won’t go in the Tavern, right? Okay? You got all that?"

Gepard frowns, chewing on his lip. This is the wrong answer, apparently; Sampo makes him jump by grabbing his shoulders, fingers tight where they dig into his arms. "Gepard, please. I'm being serious here. Do you understand?"

"Yes, of course," Gepard nods rapidly, repeating Sampo's rules in his head like a mantra. It's not the truth, though. Confusion prickles under his skin. "Why... are we even here? Wait, why are you going inside? Won't it be... dangerous for you too, then?"

Sampo's smile is sharp, a dangerous flash of pointed teeth. "I am technically a Masked Fool, y'know? And if we're gonna go through this neighbourhood of the universe, I need to, uh... partake in some revelry with the ladies and gentlemen in the Tavern. It'd be rude to walk through their house and not at least say hi!"

It's not the truth, or at least not the whole of it, but before Gepard can press anymore Sampo rubs his hand over his mouth, his words muffled into his palm. "And I gotta pay the owner of the tavern a visit, make sure he's upholding an old deal of ours."

Distaste, a sort of rancid discomfort makes Gepard stay quiet, simply watching Sampo as he gets up waltzes around the small bedroom on the ship. He hums something, talking to himself in cut off sentences like he often does as he gets his jacket, puts on his shoes. He feels different, though, a different kind of undercurrent below his skin. Sampo double and triple checks that his daggers are sheathed and hidden on him before turning to leave.

"Oooooookay! I'll be back!" He sings out, vanishing through the bedroom door and into the cockpit. He's leaning back into the door in less than a second, something in his eyes that makes Gepard sit straight. "Don't. Leave."

Sampo doesn't turn away until Gepard nods again, wiping around and vanishing like he'd never been there. Gepard hears the sound of the shuttle door opening with an airy hissss, slamming back shut.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, stewing in the silence Sampo left behind. The ship is quiet without Sampo's presence. His absence is always a sort of empty stillness, but now it feels suffocating. Gepard starts pacing, at some point.

Neon signs hang on the industrial cement walls of the bar, flashing images of two beer bottles colliding in cheers, an open sign that pulses blue and white. A massive, pink neon glowed the name 'The Green Chapel,' gaudy and far too bright. It makes his eyes hurt, but they still glow on the back of his eyelids when he tries to block them out.

Gepard doesn't see a single person, constantly walking around and up to the windshield, looking out at the other ships. Not a thing has moved, not another living soul has announced their presence. Gepard feels horrifically alone.

It's completely quiet. He can't hear any music, but there's a constant thump thump thump rattling in his bones, his heart, sending goosebumps rising on his skin. It reminds him of Serval's concerts, the times when he went to see Mechanical Fever perform; that sort of all consuming, booming sound of drums and bass that rattles the air.

He isn't sure how much time passes, but he knows it's far, far too long. It takes hours of worrying, of anxiety and unease making him feel nauseous, before Gepard realizes Sampo never said the tavern was safe for him, either.

It's deceptively easy, to leave the ship. Gepard makes sure he has his gauntlet on, properly dressed in jeans and a dark jacket. The air feels cold as he steps down onto the metal dock the ship is precariously perched on. Gepard doesn't hear a thing until he's standing at the old, weathered door, the fluorescent signs humming electric above him.

Gepard walks into the bar and is instantly engulfed by it, sound exploding around him. The music is electric, rhythmic harsh beats that crackle and surround him. It's massive inside, beyond what should be possible. The lights above pulse, the lights like living beings cutting through the darkness and bathing the crowd of writhing bodies in pink, purple, blues and reds. It's warm, a type of wet humidity in the air that smells of sweat and liquor and something strangely sharp-sweet that makes Gepard wrinkle his nose. He barely gets a chance to even recoil after stepping inside when a hand catches him, fingers on his elbow making him jolt away.

"Oh?" A woman, short in stature with long dark hair that glows blue-purple-pink under the throbbing lights. Her face is obscured by a mask, a pointed face with triangular ears. Gepard can almost make out swirling designs, the dark and light colours indistinguishable under the pulsing lights. He can't see her eyes, but there's a sharp tilt of her head that makes him feel small.

"You're new, aren't you?" She giggles, voice somehow cutting through the pounding music. "You are. I'd have recognized that handsome face if I'd seen it before." Gepard stands far taller than her, but somehow Gepard reels cornered, as if she's towering over him. She leans heavily into his side, a hand brushing over his clothed ribs. "Want to grab a drink? My treat, if you pay me back with a dance."

Gepard shoves her away without much thought. "No, I'd rather not," Gepard grinds out. She doesn't even flinch at his rejection, just stepping back. "I'm just looking for someone--"

"Aw, c'mon! No need to be such a bore. Just one dance won't kill you! Why not have some fun while you're here?"

Gepard bristles, overwhelmed and worried with Sampo's warnings swirling through his head. He narrows his eyes, goes to say something or push past her, but for a split second her mask shifts, the corners of its black eyes crinkling like paper. "Wait," she says, her voice burst of noise, "who are you looking for?"

Gepard catches himself before he can respond, clenching his teeth. Sampo had stressed he not say his own name, but what about Sampo's? He doesn't want to take the risk. "That... is none of your concern. Now, if you'll excuse me." He's uncaring as he shoves past her, gritting his teeth at the overwhelming lights and music, trying to stay out of the dancing crowd and keep towards the wall. He freezes when he feels too many fingers on his back.

“You're with him, aren’t you?” He doesn't know how he recognizes It to be her, her voice now distorted and muffled like she's underwater. Gepard spins on his heels and raises his fists on instinct, heart thumping in his chest--but she's gone. Gepard digs his teeth into his cheek and turns back, squaring his shoulders.

The dancefloor in the middle of the tavern is teeming with people, moving like one unified mass of laughter and cheering and screaming people. Gepard keeps to the wall, walking beside tables and booths filled with people all talking and taking shots, singing and laughing under the music. Many of them wear masks, indiscriminate things of varying sizes and shapes that Gepard can't decipher. Many of them don't wear masks, too, a cheerful gleam over their eyes. Gepard keeps catching glimpses of the bar through the crowd, against the far wall that's lined with shelves choke full of bottles. There's one bartender, technically; the person behind the bar is a humanoid figure in a clean blazer, their head gone with numerous grinning and crying and laughing masks spinning around over their shoulders. Their arms seem incorporeal, not quite real in a way that Gepard swears he sees two arms stretched across the bar collecting change, two more mixing a drink, one more talking with a customer like it's a hand puppet. It hurts his head to watch them move.

He has no idea how he's going to find Sampo in this. He should've asked more questions, especially what he's doing here. He tries to look for blue hair, green eyes, that smile he's come to know so well, but the hazy lights and constant movement makes everything blur together.

Gepard isn't looking where he's going, scanning the crowd and the filled tables and booths. His foot catches on the leg of someone's chair, nearly tripping him if it weren't for the hand that catches him by the shoulder. “Sorry,” Gepard gasps out, standing up. The man in the seat laughs, clapping a hand on his shoulder. His mask is more like a helmet, metal shaped into the face and crown of a king.

“No problem, my man!” He laughs loudly, throwing an arm over Gepard's shoulders in a sort of side hug, as if they're old friends. “No harm no foul! What's your name, friend? Come to watch the show?”

“Call me Captain.” Gepard blurts out, looking past him. There's numerous tables and chairs before him, all facing the wall that is covered in dozens of TV screens of varying sizes. They all seem to be showing the same thing; a first person perspective of someone seemingly in battle, fighting a gargantuan reptilian beast. They seem to be losing, someone out of the corner of their eye screaming for them. Many people are watching the screens, cheering and clapping despite the grizzly scene of claws raking across the person's chest. Gepard sees some people groan, others celebrating as credits change hands.

“It's just getting good,” the man pulls at Gepard's attention, motioning for him to sit down. Gepard holds against his tugging. “According to the script, the performer's love interest will watch them perish and go on a rampage to avenge them! Want me to order you a drink, too?”

Gepard's shaking his head before the man's done talking, watching the way the mask's eyes gleam and blink like melting metal. “No,” he says, glad that the man's grip melts off him like ice as he steps back, “no thank you, I'm--”

He's stepped too far back, colliding with someone dancing. Gepard jumps and spins to see someone with the face of a snake and hair like pine needles hiss at him. His heart leaps in his throat as they vanish into the crowd, looking around to find himself engulfed by the dancers, surrounded. The music is too much, warm bodies pressing around him. He can feel his shirt sticking to his back, his heading hurting from the lights and--

A hand, rough and tight and insistent, clamps down on his forearm. Gepard growls and spins around, raising his gauntlet and punching whoever has grabbed him. His attack is halted midair, their hand encasing his fist. Gepard tries to kick, shove and pull away only to be yanked forward towards them.

Off balance, he falls into their grip, arms around his shoulders and his head shoved down into the crook of their neck. He goes to lash out, heart running rampant in his chest. He only stills, though, when he catches a glimpse of blue hair, feels annoying but familiar buckles digging into his own chest. The mouth by his ear, the chin hooked over his shoulder, makes him relax.

“Gepard!” Sampo's voice is a hissed sound, low and only for him. “What are you doing here?” His tone is harsh, his body tense against Gepard's. Sampo's hands are flurry of panicked motion as he runs them over Gepard's back, his arms, his shoulders, his head. “Are you okay? You aren’t hurt? Has anyone tried to-- Why are you here? Seriously, I wasn't joking when I said you needed to stay put! This place isn't safe. This stupid, sorry excuse for a Tavern--”

“I'm sorry,” Gepard interjects, grabbing one of Sampo's hands in his own, the other light on Sampo's waist. He rubs his thumb over the back of Sampo's hand. “I know, I know what you said. But you were gone… a long time. I was concerned and decided to look for you.”

Sampo is quiet, simply standing pressed against Gepard. He feels the tension slowly leave his body, feels his shoulders drop as he lets out a sigh. He says nothing for a moment, intertwining his fingers with Gepard’s, his other hand on his shoulder as he starts to guide Gepard into a slow, swaying motion. He just goes along with it, let’s Sampo lead him into a slow dance that is wildly out of place with the music, the ecstatic crowd around them. Sampo is humming something soft and distantly familiar, his cheek pressed to Gepard’s.

The music is still constant, loud and vibrant, but Sampo’s presence makes it feel… diluted. Faraway and almost muffled, like there’s a bubble between them and the rest of the bar. Gepard glances around and notices it’s the same with the crowd, too; dozens of people around them, lost in their own worlds, now give them a wide berth, a few feet kept between the two of them and everyone else at all times. No one turns to look at them, Gepard doesn’t feel any eyes on him or note any quick glances towards them, as if looking at Sampo will burn their eyes.

“No need to apologize,” Sampo speaks up suddenly. Gepard turns to look at his face, but Sampo holds him chest to chest, keeping his chin over Gepard’s collar. His blue hair is vibrant in the light, his skin almost sparkling. “I shoulda just… brought you with me from the start, probably. Well I’d rather not bring you here at all but…” He sighs, clicks his tongue, leans into Gepard. “Duty calls! Or something like that.”

“Are you done here?” Gepard whispers. Sampo shouldn’t be able to hear him over the surging, vibrant air, but somehow Gepard knows he does. “With whatever it is you need to do here, I mean.” Sampo’s immediate response is a groaning sound deep in his throat, his forehead knocking against Gepard’s collarbone. “No, no. I still… ugh, this place sucks. Just give me a minute, please? And I’ll…”

“Okay.” Sampo leans into him so heavily and fully, like he’s trying to meld himself with Gepard’s flesh, into his skin. Gepard takes his weight without question, content to hold them both up as Sampo sways them in a slow turning waltz. Gepard’s head doesn’t hurt, anymore. The overstimulation has subsided, but the confusion and concern hasn’t, not fully.

“We’re dancing.”

“Mhm. Well, technically. Sampo Koski a better dancer than whatever this is, I assure you!”

“That’s not what I mean,” Gepard says with an amused snort, knocking his temple against Sampo’s head lightly. “I mean that… you said no dancing. With anyone.”

Sampo’s laugh rumbles Gepard’s chest, through his ribs and straight into his heart. “C’mon, Geppie! If you just don’t wanna dance, say so! I promise I’ll pretend it won’t break my weak, frail heart.”

“And you said no names. But you’ve said mine in here many times now.”

There’s a hesitation, one Gepard feels in Sampo’s stuttering step, his hand clenching so slightly around Gepard’s. “It’s… I’m just that exceptional, I suppose,” he says after a strained pause.

Gepard wants to ask. It is a need, a rising feeling that rises from his stomach to his throat. He wants to ask about the people, the masks, the way Sampo’s touch and his presence makes people keep their distance but makes his head feel clear. Gepard has never, really, been curious like his sisters, but Sampo makes curiosity envelop him; Gepard wants to know everything about Sampo, the good and the bad. The things Sampo won’t tell him. But not here, in this strange Tavern with these strange people.

“I’m sorry,” Sampo whispers out, and Gepard feels like he’s apologizing for more than it seems, “but I need to… connect with some old Fools.” Sampo lifts his head and cranes his neck back, scanning over and past the crowd. Gepard tries to get a look at his face but Sampo turns his head each time, the lights and shadows obstructing his expression. All Gepard gets is shimmering, smooth skin like porcelain and a glimpse of green eyes glowing in an indescribable colour.

“I can leave back to the ship,” Gepard says, “just… promise you won’t be long.”

“Sorry, darling, but, uh…” He clicks his tongue, jerks his chin towards where Gepard came, where the door should be. But Gepard sees nothing but chairs and tables, a tall, harsh wall decorated with paintings and photos and screens that make his mind spin. “You’ll have to wait to leave with me, so I can show you the way out. But I’d rather you don’t meet the Tavernkeeper…” He chews on his lip, humming in thought as he searches for… something.

“Aha!” Sampo suddenly jerks, jumping and yanking Gepard along with him. “Found him! C’mon, Geppie! You can hang out with my old friend while I, uh, go say my hellos.”

The crowd parts seamlessly like water, heads turned away from them as Sampo pulls Gepard along. Gepard keeps his head down, focusing onto the point of contact where Sampo holds his hand tightly, his grip protective and unwavering. He doesn’t look back at Gepard once.

A series of pool tables and poker tables envelop the corner, on a raised floor almost like a stage. Gepard glimpses poker chips, cards and credits and roulette wheels all in motion as Sampo guides him through it all to the far corner. A booth catches Gepard’s attention as they approach it, the seats filled with lifesized, off-white porcelain dolls, carved into various mechanical poses. Each has cards and chips in front of them, as if someone had set up a poker scene. The one, moving person sitting at the table makes his eyebrows raise.

“Gio--” Gepard says, clamping his mouth shut before saying his full name. The man’s head snaps up, the familiar mask meeting Gepard’s gaze. The black, indestructible eyes of his mask are dark and depthless. He holds himself upright and proper, gloved fingers clasping his own hand of cards. He tilts his head towards Sampo as they stop right in front of his booth.

“Ayo, Gio! Long time no see!” Sampo laughs, his tone sarcastic and light. He wraps an arm around Gepard’s shoulders, as if unwilling to let go of him in any way. “I didn’t take you for the kind to haunt around this Tavern, but I knew I felt you here! What have you been up to, you old Fool?”

“Brother Sampo, delightful to see you, as always.” His voice is a low, lulling tone, despite how he has to raise his voice to be heard over the constant din of music. He glances down at his cards, tapping the table before looking up again. “I’m simply passing through and staying here a moment before moving on. It’s, frankly, much more strange seeing you here. Business as usual?”

“Business as usual,” Sampo hums and nods, tilting his head in a harsh, jerking motion. “Sorry to, uh, interrupt your game, but I have a favour to ask you.”

“A favour?” There’s a pointed, sharp interest in his tone. Gepard stares at the smooth, two-toned design of his mask, suddenly jumping when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He looks to the mannequins, staring at them and challenging them to move again. “I don’t mind dealing in favours, especially with you, Sampo. I assume it has to do with…”

Gepard looks back at him, noticing the weight of Giovanni’s attention now on him. Sampo’s grip is tight, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Captain,” Gepard blurts out, “you can call me the Captain.” Sampo’s grip relaxes. The lips of Giovanni’s mask almost seem to lift. “Ah, the Captain, yes. It’s a pleasant surprise to see you here, Captain. Have you been well?”

“I’m doing well, G-Giovanni. It’s good to see you, too.”

“We’re on our honeymoon,” Sampo coos, making Gepard’s face heat up. Sampo gives him the opportunity to protest, but Gepard bites his tongue instead and lets Sampo squirm. “Uh-uhm, yeah! I’m showing him all the sights! The best places in the universe! Not this Tavern, though. This is an unfortunate pit stop I couldn’t avoid. You get it, Gio.” Giovanni just nods in response, lifting his hand and pointing to a mannequin across the table from him. He says a word that is static in Gepard’s ears, and the mannequin has vanished, a seat open.

“Gep,” Sampo whispers in his ear, pulling his attention. Gepard tries to look at his face--Sampo ducks away, just enough to cast shadows over his face. “You don’t mind keeping Giovanni some company here for a minute, do you? I’ll be back before you know it! Oh, don’t play poker with him, though.”

Gepard can’t help but tense, looking to Giovanni with narrowed eyes. “Why?”

“Because he’s a dirty cheater.”

“You shouldn’t project your own failings on me, Sampo Koski,” he says as he shuffles. The chips and the cards have shifted when Gepard wasn’t looking, Giovanni’s winnings now significantly lighter. “Would you like me to deal you in, Captain?”

“I’m okay, thank you.” He peels himself away from Sampo, sliding into the booth across from Giovanni. The music is instantly louder, now away from Sampo. “I won’t be staying long, after all.” Gepard says it with a pointed look in Sampo’s direction, making him snort. Sampo is looking away, only the portrait of his face visible. The little of his smile Gepard can glimpse looks stiff, plastic. “Thanks, Gio! I’ll be back before you know it, Captain.”

He turns on his heels but hesitates. Gepard frowns, goes to ask if he’s okay, only for Sampo to move and surge towards him. He’s quick, the lights making him a blurred movement. Gepard feels Sampo’s lips on his cheek, strangely cold and smooth against his skin. It makes his chest swell regardless.

“See ya!” Sampo spins around and marches off, the dancing crowd parting for him. Gepard watches him all the way, seeking him out when he loses sight of Sampo. He can see the bar in the back from here, the inhuman bartender behind it. Gepard sees a familiar head pause by the barstools, the bartender going rigid like a statue. They move, turn towards Sampo, leaving all their customers who were begging for their attention abandoned without a care. The masks spin, shivering, settling on a massive mask with its expression twisted in something resembling fear. Sampo gestures, shrugs, makes wide, clipped motions with his hands as he says something that makes the bartender recoil. Sampo opens a door Gepard swears wasn’t there before, making the bartender go inside before following them in.

“How has Belobog been?”

Gepard turns back to Giovanni. The lights are overwhelming once more, the music piercing through his flesh, to his very core. It’s hard to focus on the other man, who’s looking down at his poker hand intently. “It’s… yes, Belobog is doing well. Nothing out of the ordinary since you’ve left.” It’s a lie, one Gepard doesn’t feel bad about. If Sampo hadn’t mentioned what had happened to his friend, Gepard definitely wouldn’t be the one to bear both their chests open. “You’ve… been well? You said you aren’t here for long. You’re traveling, I assume?”

“I’m not one to stay idle for long,” he hums, putting chips into the center of the table. The mannequins keep moving out of the corner of Gepard’s eyes, making him jump and stare at their still figures. They’re only animated, fully formed people when he isn’t looking at them, seeing people holding their cards and matching Giovanni’s bet, only to go still once more. Their faces are painted on with what looks like makeup, lipstick spread over their doll-like lips messily.

“I am, frankly, surprised to see you away from your city, Captain.” Gepard looks back to him, watching as he collects his winnings from the mannequins. The sound of his chips clattering together sounds like bells. “Not to say I’m not glad. There is a lot of joy to be found in leaving home, seeing new things. I’m sure Sampo has treated you to some entertaining sights.”

“Honestly,” Gepard sighs, sinking into his chair just a bit, “I never thought I’d leave, either. I could never leave permanently, or travel forever like you do. But it’s been… phenomenal.”

“I’m happy for you.” Giovanni’s tone is the same, level and collected, but Gepard can tell he’s genuine. “Sampo Koski is well versed in… elation, after all. I wouldn’t have expected you to have found each other like this, moreso I’m shocked that that old Fool can settle, but I truly wish the best for both of you.”

He doesn’t really know what to do with this turn of conversation, covering his warm, blushing face with a hand. He laughs into his palm, watching talking mannequins just barely out of his focus. “Ah… thank you? It’s… we… yeah. Yeah.” He pauses a moment, the entirety of Giovanni’s words registering and making him frown. “What do you mean by that?”

Giovanni hesitates while shuffling, the cards in his hands slipping to the table. He huffs, dragging them back together in a clean stack. His movements are smooth, practiced as he shuffles, with unnecessary flourishes as he fans the cards, cascading them between his hands. It reminds Gepard of Sampo, the times they spent playing poker between the two of them, later with Seele once Gepard actually got the hang of it. Sampo is far, far more flashy with it, though.

“You have questions.”

Gepard does. Many of them, listless and disorganized in the confines of his skull. None of them are meant for Giovanni, though. “Are these actually people, or mannequins?”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Giovanni says with a chuckle, dealing out cards. They glide across the table, settling perfectly in front of the mannequins. “Frankly, it is… unimaginable to me that Sampo would bring anyone here, let alone you.”

Gepard crosses his arms, sitting straight. “Why is that?”

“This place is… well, you see how it is.” Gepard doesn’t look away from Giovanni as he gestures out and around them. “Sampo has some… previous agreements that make him come here, but I know he would never set foot in this place if he could avoid it. But him bringing you to any Tavern? He has pulled risks in the past, but I thought he’d be more… careful.”

“I came in here of my own accord,” Gepard bites back, not hiding his defensiveness. “It’s my fault I’m even here. Sampo told me to stay away, but I came in myself.”

“Because you wanted in on the fun?” Giovanni says, “or because Sampo wouldn’t tell you why he’s here?”

“I came in here to make sure he was okay.”

“You truly don’t need to worry about him in any Tavern,” he laughs, clicks his tongue, shakes his head like he’s talking to a child. “I think you know that, too. Sampo isn’t in danger here.”

“You’ve called him old,” Gepard blurts out, digging his fingers into his thighs. It bothers him, for some reason, this strange and unimportant thing. Giovanni seems to expect this, maybe knew he’d planted that niggling worry into his head, tapping his fingers on the table. “Yes, I did.”

“Why.”

“I’m sure Sampo has been careful with you, considering you will return to your planet.” The tap tap tap tap of his fingers on the tabletop send a hammer swinging against his skull. “But Sampo and I are old, especially for Masked Fools. We tend to get too involved in our performances, especially tragedies. Fools don't live as long as us. We have been around this universe… many times. And time isn’t kind in every galaxy.”

“You’re not answering, Giovanni.” He grinds his teeth. He has the rising feeling that Giovanni is taking delight in this, and it makes his hackles raise. “Tell me. What do you mean.”

“How old do you think he is?”

“Gio--”

“You’re probably right,” he interjects, pulling more chips to himself. One of the out of view mannequins shuffles the cards, and it grates on Gepard’s skin. “In your assumption, I mean. He isn’t technically much older than you, but he’s been around longer.

“An example,” he hums, taps his chin, holding Gepard’s gaze. “I have an old business partner in the Klimt Republic. About five years ago, I left and journeyed across the galaxies to meet with merchants, business associates, sponsor the Interastral Tournament Festival, etcetera.” He leans forward, over his own cards and chips and towards Gepard. “I visited him, about a week ago. For him, 30 years had passed. He’d retired and his daughter was managing his business.”

Gepard doesn’t say a word, just watches the tight, careful way Giovanni raises his cards and throws them down on the table. Two aces stare up at them, vibrating on the table like they are going to take flight. Gepard hadn’t noticed the chips all collecting into the middle of the table, Giovanni chuckling lowly as he drags them towards himself.

“I don’t mean to alarm you,” he says without raising his head; Gepard doesn’t entirely believe him. “As I said, Sampo is careful when he wants to be. And knowledgeable, too. He knows the universe better than most do. If you haven’t noted any temporal discrepancies when messaging people, then there’s no harm, no foul.”

“Your name isn’t Giovanni.” Gepard’s words bubble over, not-quite questions that press between his teeth. His head hurts, his brain feeling too large in his skull. Giovanni shakes his head. “No, it is not.”

“Sampo Koski… isn’t his name, is it?”

Giovanni laughs, a full body cackle that sounds shrill and strange from the other man. Gepard grits his teeth, narrowing his eyes at the pulsing lights that taunt him from above. “Believe it or not, Captain,” Giovanni sighs, rubbing nonexistent tears from the eyes of his mask. He pauses to collect the credits the mannequins had bet, folding it neatly. “But it is. Out of every name he’s taken, it’s the truest.”

The cards have vanished, the chips gone, the mannequins nowhere to be found. It’s as if it had never existed, that Giovanni had been alone. Gepard stares down at the bare, worn table before looking back to Giovanni as he stands up, straightens his suit. “Sampo Koski is an exception.”

He almost wants to ask what in the Aeons he means by that, but Giovanni is making a shocked noise in the back of his throat before he can. He looks down and raises his arm, peeling back his sleeve and looking at his bare wrist. “Ah! Apologies, Captain, but I’m afraid the time has slipped from me. I best be going. Please give Sampo my farewells, and tell him I’m sorry.”

His eyebrows raise, going to stand himself. “Sorry? For wh--”

Giovanni doesn’t say a word, spinning on his heels and straight into the wall. Gepard’s mouth hangs open on his unfinished words when he watches the wall seem to crumble in on itself, revealing a door out into a bright, golden cityscape. It unfurls behind Giovanni and returns to normal in an instant. Gepard bursts to his feet then, hands flat on the table as he gapes at where the other man had once been. He stares a moment, before slowly sitting back down, his stomach in his throat.

He doesn’t know what to do, if he should do anything besides sit there. The bar is overwhelming now without someone or something to focus on, a headache clawing up the back of his spine and digging in behind his eyes. Gepard sinks into the seat, avoiding looking at the writhing crowd of laughing and dancing people. He finds himself looking back to the bar constantly, as if Sampo is waiting for him there. But he isn’t. The bar remains unmanned, numerous customers having climbed over the counter to help themselves now, standing on barstools and sending glass bottles clattering to the floor.

His anxious silence is interrupted quickly; “you look like you need some company!”

“No,” Gepard said instantly, looking up at the man leaning heavily on the table. He’s young, a thin but tall man practically holding himself up against the table. He isn’t wearing a mask, his grin still wide like the artificial smiles he’s seen on numerous predatory masks on other dancers. His eyes are fixated on him in a way that makes Gepard’s skin crawl.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that!” The man coos, falling forward onto the table and leaning on his elbows, his chin in his palm. “Why’re you all alone in the corner like this? You should be having fun, dancing, drinking! No need to be all standoffish. I bet I can get you smiling in no time. What’s your name, friend?”

“I’m not your friend,” Gepard growls, standing up, “and I definitely don’t need you accosting me. Goodbye.” He really shouldn’t leave, should stay so that Sampo can find him easily, but the man keeps leaning closer and closer and Gepard feels like a cornered animal. He glances away, ignoring the man’s whined protest, squinting against his headache as he scans the crowd. He steps away, figuring he can just sit at the bar by the drunk, cackling patrons and wait for Sampo there.

He barely takes a step before a hand circles his wrist, fingers feeling cold like a chain, tight against his skin. Gepard bristles, his lip curled as he turns towards the grinning Fool. “Let. Go.”

“Why?” He giggles, pouts, tugs on Gepard’s hand. “Letting go is no fun! You know, you’d be happier if you just danced with me, let me buy you a drink. Why not have a good time, let loose, have some fun?”

Gepard responds by trying to rip his hand out of the man’s grip, but he falls forward with the movement, so close it’s suffocating. His breath smells of liquor as he laughs, eyes shining and too bright. “Ooooh you wanna slow dance instead? Why not just say so? I still haven’t caught your name, though. How ‘bout we trade? You can call me--”

“I don’t want to know,” Gepard growls out, lip curled. He flexes his fingers, feeling the cold swirl around his gauntlet as he clenches his fist and holds it back to strike. “Let go of me right now, or you’ll regret it.”

“How rude.” His smile is sharp, voice like a hiss. “Dance with me, and I’ll forgive you.”

Gepard gave in to the hot anger crawling up his throat, hoping that this wouldn’t cause Sampo too much trouble. “No. Don’t say I didn’t warn--”

He lungs forward as if to tackle him into the other crowded tables behind them. Gepard goes to meet him with his fist but doesn’t get the chance. There’s a surge of movement, a flash of red and purple and blue and the cackling, growling huff of indistinguishable words.that crackle in his ears. A clawed hand on his sternum pushes him back, the man flailing and shoved back like a marionette wrenched by its strings. The man yelps, something cracking as he’s shoved back onto the table and his head collides with the wood. Sampo towers over him as he yanks the man up by his shirt.

“He said no.” Sampo’s voice is a fierce, screeching sound. The fog in the air almost dissolves, the music and the lights secondary to Sampo’s presence. The people nearest have all gone inhumanely still, heads craned in their direction as they pause in their card games or conversations or dancing. Gepard finds himself stunned still, too.

“W-wait!” The man gasps, sounding choked on his own words. He goes to grab at Sampo’s arm but jerks away as if afraid to even touch him, struggling to kick back and away from him. “I-It’s-- I didn’t--”

“Did you not hear him the first time? Or the second?” Sampo grits out his words between his teeth, a sort of dangerous, humourous tone in his voice; a warning. “What makes you think you could grab him like that? Huh? Tell me.”

The man is shaking, eyes wide and manic as he breathes heavily, frantically. “I-I-I don’t--” He gulps, glancing around and behind Sampo as if for someone to save him. Not a single person makes a move, says a word, does anything but gawk with a sort of stunned, scrutinizing stare. His eyes landed on Gepard for only a second before Sampo shook him, saying something low that Gepard didn’t hear. “I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, I thought-- I didn’t know that he’s y-your toy already. Please don’t--”

“Toy?” Sampo’s laughter is something shrill and echoing; crunching glass between teeth, violin chords snapping, the echoing ringing of bells, a bellowing horn. It makes Gepard wince slightly, but the people around recoil and groan in pain, hands over their ears as they lurch back. The man in Sampo’s grip looks like he’s going to be sick.

“You are,” Sampo hums, his tight grip on the man’s shirt shaking, “are the worst kind of Fool. The kind who find their sick fun in messing with others? Toying with people and stringing them along. Is that right?” He accentuates his words with a chuckle, shaking the man slightly. Gepard is lost on what to do--until he sees Sampo reach for his dagger. “Is this really Elation, to you? Is there really any joy in making other people suffer, using them? You should thank Aha for not caring how you get your sick thrills, because I won’t--”

Sampo!” Gepard grabs his hand, his fingers a shackle around Sampo’s wrist and his other hand harsh on his shoulder. Sampo tenses and goes to twist towards him, giving Gepard the faintest flash of his face. His eyes are not just green, but swirling with specks of colour like confetti and glowing beyond what should be possible. His skin is too smooth, discoloured and unblemished and sparkling in a way that is entirely alien to Gepard. He sees his eyes widen, something sparking under his irises, before Sampo ducks his head away again. He’s rigid under Gepard’s grip.

“Sampo,” Gepard gulps, pulling back on Sampo’s arm, peeling at his grip around the hilt of his dagger. The man still held in Sampo’s grip whimpers and begs but Gepard ignores it. “That’s enough. Just put him down and we can leave and never come back, okay?”

“But--”

“I’m alright,” Gepard interrupts, already knowing the words caught on Sampo’s tongue, “this wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I’m fine. I’d be better if we’d leave, though.”

A muscle in Sampo’s jaw tenses. Gepard just watches him and ignores the weight of the attention on their backs. He watches as the tense, frigid line of Sampo’s shoulders slowly melts and softens. Gepard loosens his grips as Sampo sighs. He lets go of the men, unceremoniously dropping him and letting him fall back onto the table. He sucks in a panicked breath, not looking at either Sampo or Gepard as he scrambles frantically off the table, giving Sampo a wide berth as he bolts.

The music is dulled, a faint pulse in the air. The entire Tavern feels different, tense like everyone was waiting for Sampo to snap again, to attack anyone. Gepard ignores it all, ignores the way masked faces follow him as he takes Sampo’s dagger from his hand, runs a hand across his back. “You’re done with what you needed to do?”

Sampo’s response was a delayed nod. “Yeah. Yeah. Sorry for the wait.” Gepard just shakes his head, Sampo watching Gepard out of the corner of his eye as Gepard holsters his dagger, intertwines their fingers. “Okay, good. If you can show me the way out, then?” He squeezes Sampo’s hand; it takes a moment for Sampo to squeeze back.

“Okay,” he sucks in a breath, exhaling harshly and shaking his head, “okay! Let’s get out of here!” Gepard is all too glad to be pulled along by Sampo, his grip a reassurance as Sampo takes him through the room. Heads swivel in mechanical unison to follow them, people once again parting for Sampo as he tugs Gepard through the dancefloor, moving in a strange pattern until they escape the crowd, a familiar door in front of them. Sampo doesn’t look back at him once, but hesitates a moment.

He spins around, towards the back of the bar. “Hey!” He yells out. Gepard follows his line of sight to the bar; the inhuman bartender stands behind it once more, but they hold themself… strangely, now. Their numerous arms shiver and shake as they messily prepare drinks, and at the sound of Sampo’s yell they jump and recede into themself, the crying mask gyrating.

“Don’t forget our deal, my friend!” Sampo bellows out, one hand by his mouth. His teeth are just a bit too sharp when he smirks. “Or I’ll take matters into my own hands!” The bartender puts their dozens of hands over their mask before ducking behind the bar, Sampo’s laughter seeming to make the liquor bottles shake on the shelves.

Gepard doesn’t get a chance to ask, though, confusion bubbling up his chest. Sampo doesn’t look at him, just squeezes his hand again before turning and shoving the front door open.

It’s quiet outside, just as it had been before. Leaving the Tavern is an instant relief; the hot, too-sweet weight of the air had been suffocating. Gepard can’t help but breathe in deeply and let out a sigh, even as Sampo still drags him towards their ship.

Gepard enters the cockpit and collapses into the passenger chair, knocking his head back against the wall. Sampo’s movements are a relaxing sound, his presence enough to calm him down. Gepard just focuses on the scuffling sound of Sampo’s footsteps, the mechanical whirring of the engine coming to life, the thruming of the propellers lifting them from the dock and the clattering, rhythmic sound of the wings as Sampo guides them through the stars. The faint, dull ache in his head fades as time passes, as they get farther and farther away from that damned bar.

Sampo is the one to break the silence, his words making Gepard snap his eyes open; “I’ll take you straight back to Belobog. It won’t be long. Jarilo-IV isn’t technically that far from here and so I’ll make it quick--”

“What?” Gepard sits up quickly, snapping his head towards Sampo. The passenger seats are situated behind the pilot’s, leaving Gepard to just stare at the back to Sampo’s head. Stars and debris and various celestial bodies pass by them in streaks of colour, their movement a blur through the cosmos. Sampo doesn’t look back at him, doesn’t look at him at all as he speaks. Gepard desperately wants him to look at him. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Gepard! You don’t… you don’t need to say anything! I’ll take you home as soon as I can and--”

“No.” Gepard bursts to his feet, marches to Sampo. The other man jumps when Gepard slams his hands down on the back of his chair, forcing him to spin around and face him. Sampo’s face is… back to what Gepard is used to. No signs of needle-point teeth or confetti eyes. But he still doesn’t meet Gepard’s gaze. “What in Qlipoth’s name are you saying, Sampo?”

“I-it’s-- you don’t need to worry, Geppie! I get it, okay? I get it. No need to say anything, I’ll… I’ll just take you back and be on my way--”

“What makes you think I want to leave you?” Gepard barks out, his voice a harsh noise. He grips either armrest tightly, leaning into Sampo’s space. Sampo cranes his head to avoid looking at him, making Gepard make a strangled, groaning noise in the back of his throat. “After everything, you think I want to return home now?”

“Yes! Obviously,” Sampo scoffs, finally meeting Gepard’s eyes. His expression is pinched. “C’mon, Geppie. That… that was too much, admit it. I put you through that, and now you want nothing to do with me.”

“You cannot. Decide that for me,” Gepard growls out, narrowing his eyes. “You can’t just decide for me, Sampo. It’s not your choice to make if I want to be here, with you, or not. And I do. There’s nowhere else I want to be.” Sampo’s eyes flash with something Gepard doesn’t quite catch, but his expression hardens again. Gepard claps a hand over Sampo’s mouth before he can say a word, his protests muffled against Gepard’s palm. “No! I’m talking now, so listen. I have no clue what happened in there, what that place was, what that place did to you. I’m frankly, confused, and concerned, and will absolutely ask you a lot of questions later. But that doesn’t make me want to leave you. And when I do go back to Belobog, you are coming with me, got it?”

Sampo is silent, completely still. Gepard doesn’t look away, doesn’t back down as Sampo traces his gaze over Gepard’s face, catching on his eyes. His eyes shine again, just the slightest bit. Gepard gives him just a moment before he breaks the silence again. “Do you understand me, Sampo? I’m not going anywhere.”

He feels him exhale against his palm, letting Sampo peel his hand off of his face with his mismatched fingers, holding his hand gently, reverent. “Are you sure?”

Gepard doesn’t hesitate: “Of course I am.” He stands back up, Sampo’s grip on his hand lingering a moment like he’s afraid to let go. Gepard just watches as Sampo looks away, his mouth a thin line, his brow furrowing and relaxing like he’s trying not to argue. Eventually he sighs and let’s Gepard go, his relief tangible in the air.

“Besides,” Gepard says with a slight grin, crossing his arms, “you still need to take me to the giant space turtle.” Sampo laughs, glad for the escape Gepard is providing him. His smile is still a bit strained, Sampo’s vulnerability still seeping through the cracks, but he doesn’t seem so… frantic anymore. “Of course, of course! How could I forget.”

He hums, spinning around to the control panels. Gepard still has no idea what Sampo is doing as he runs his fingers over screens, but he feels the ship slowing, halting a moment before shifting directions through the vacuum of space. Gepard collapses back in his seat as they set off once more.

“I do have one question, though.” Sampo tenses, making Gepard quick to finish his thought. “Are all Masked Fools’ Taverns… like that?” Sampo’s laughter is a cackle, his head thrown back. It’s soothing, comforting, familiar. Gepard’s smile is uncontrollable as Sampo looks back over his shoulder and smirks at him.

“I promise you, they are not,” he snorts. He hums a moment, rolling his shoulders. “Some of ‘em are just as unhinged as that, yes. That’s one of the worst, though. All a bunch of old fashioned Fools! None of them know how to really have fun, I assure you. Some other Taverns, though… they can be a lot of fun.”

“We should visit one. A good one.” Gepard tacks on quickly when Sampo wrinkles his nose at him, clearly teasing by the way he rolls his eyes. “Of course. Some of ‘em make some amazing cocktails! Ones you can have, by the way. Maybe in Epsilon, but… well, no, actually. Epsilon tends to have some half decent Fools in it, but they’d still try and, uh, bamboozle you.”

“Sounds like fun,” Gepard says drily, pointedly rolling his eyes when Sampo wrinkles his nose at him. Sampo continues on with a hum, looking up at the softly passing stars. “Uh… where could I… oh! I could take you to Avalon!”

“Is that a Tavern?”

“Yep! The tavernkeeper isn’t actually a Masked Fool. She owns it though, I think she won the place in a game of blackjack? I don’t know, that’s what her husband told me. I met the Queen through him, actually. He’s some former knight or whatever--the most populated planet in that galaxy has some sort of monarchy thing going on, I dunno. But he’s a clutz and I stole from him at one point. He carries a lot of credits on him at all times. But then he just gave it to me and invited me to dinner! I thought he was coming on to me and considering how much cash he had… but uh, anyways. I haven’t seen the Queen in ages! Last I saw her she said she was gonna take over the galaxy system her Tavern is in, and uh, honestly I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“She’s a Queen?”

“Well… I dunno. We all just called her that. She’s scary so no one questions it-- in a good way! A good kind of scary, I promise.”

“I’m not doubting you,” Gepard chuckles, “I’m just… it’s nice, hearing about people you know, places you’ve been. Before, I mean.”

“Before Jarilo?” He says it with a scoff, but Gepard can hear the fond tone in his voice. It makes his chest warm, a sort of contentment settling in his bones. Sampo likes to complain about it, the constant cold, the standoffish people in Belobog, the loss of his criminal history, but Gepard knows better. He sees it in the way he asks about Serval, questions if Gepard has heard how Natasha is doing, how his city is holding up in his absence. It’s obvious in the way Sampo’s ramblings have started to center around Belobog and the Underworld.

Sampo still pretends that he won't return, sometimes. That there's nothing left for him, that Gepard's planet doesn't have any reason for him to stay. Gepard knows it's not true, even now. Especially now. Because Gepard will always be there, wanting him. No matter how long Sampo has wandered the universe or what he's done before, who he was before.

“You know,” Gepard whispers, a secret. “Giovanni said something. Interesting things.”

“Giovanni.” Sampo hisses his name like a curse, slamming his fist on the control panels. The ship lurches to the side just slightly before Sampo corrects it. “That bastard! I can't believe he just left you there! Oh, if Gio thinks he'll get any favours out of Sampo Koski--”

“He said you're old,” Gepard continues, “well, kind of. That you've been around a long time. That time is… Strange, throughout the universe.” He pauses to watch Sampo, to see how he forces himself to relax, shuffling In his chair. “...and that you're old.”

“Don't worry.” Sampo's voice is a hushed tone. his expression as he looks back at Gepard isn't quite apologetic, Isn't quite sad. “I've been careful! Planned the routes out perfectly. Time won't escape you back in Belobog.”

It isn't what Gepard means. They both know it. That Gepard wants to know Sampo, to peel him back and see who he is, what more there is to him. Sampo is infinite, varied; Gepard feels like he could spool through what makes him him forever. He wonders, sometimes, if he can know him fully, if even Sampo knows the entirety of himself. He wonders, and finds it doesn't change how he feels.

“I love you,” Gepard says, because it's forcing its way out of him, from the depths of him. Because it's true. Sampo's smile is blinding, his ears starting to burn red. “Love you too, you softy.”

He hums, thinking a moment. “...what else did Gio say?”

“That he's surprised you could settle down with me, I think?”

“I'm going to murder him next I see him.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

#sampard #sampo koski #gepard landau #honkai star rail #fanfiction #in the bones #sampo is an emanator ofc in this. and it makes him freaky #theres a lot of like. hc type shit in this #also the 'green chapel' is a reference to gawain and the green knight #and the queen and her husband at the end are the fae queen and lanval in the lais lanval by marie de france #and like. avalon. ofc.#uhhhh what else did i shove in here. theres prob more but i dont remember #also this is 9317 words. i thought it was 6k. what the fuck #im postin it here in like . an embarassed anxious way before postin to ao3. since its so long #oh OALSO ALSO. i was torn between naming the tavern the green chapel. for the fae/green knight reference. or 'happy trail' from mp.100 #cuz that was funny to me

73 notes · View notes

misc-obeyme · 8 months

Note

Hi there! Can i request the brothers reacting to MC having heterochromia eyes (two different color eyes). Im pretty sure there might be some demons that have it as well but what if just for this request, they dont. So the brothers never saw anyone have it until MC, although what do you think about that? Do you think there might be some demons that have heterochromia eyes?

Hellooo, anon!

You know, I hadn't considered this before, but I absolutely think there are some demons that have heterochromia. Especially if we consider that some demons are based on animals, there are animals with a higher likelihood of having heterochromia than humans. I also think you could argue that all our demons have a version of heterochromia. Partial heterochromia is usually where you've got a chunk of a different color in one eye, so it's slightly different where our boys are concerned. But each of them have at least two colors in their eyes. But if we don't count that, I do think there are probably at least a few demons that have two completely different colored eyes. I would think they're probably pretty rare, though.

Of course I wrote the request as though the brothers had never seen it before, as you asked! I also only considered complete heterochromia, with both eyes being completely different colors. I think this can be acquired by disease and injury in some cases, but for the sake of this request, I went with it just being genetic.

Thanks for the request!

the brothers react to GN!MC with two different color eyes/heterochromia

Warnings: none!

Lucifer

When he first saw you, back at RAD the day you were brought to the Devildom, he was instantly struck by your eyes. He had never seen anyone with eyes like yours before.

He wanted to ask you about it, but he decided to wait until a quieter time. When he does ask, you'll have to explain to him that this is just how you were born. It's rare, but it happens sometimes.

He likes this unusual trait of yours. Often says something to you if you're avoiding his gaze. Look at him, MC. He wants to see those different colored eyes of yours.

They're his favorite thing to compliment, too. If you're in an argument with him, Lucifer will completely derail you by talking about your unusual eyes, how he likes to lose himself in their different colors. You get to decide if this works on you or not.

Mammon

Huh? What's up with your eyes, human? This comes directly after he's just been threatening to eat you when you first meet. He's surprised enough to just straight out ask you the moment he notices.

You'll have to take the time to explain heterochromia to him at a later time. He doesn't care about the details, but he is absolutely fascinated by them.

Mammon loves them, but tries to act like he doesn't, as usual. You catch him staring into your eyes from across the room more than once.

Because he's looking at your eyes all the time, he's extremely familiar with how they change depending on your mood. He can tell exactly how you're feeling at any given time just by meeting your eyes. Acts like he knows nothing, but you can tell.

Leviathan

Woah. MC. Y-your eyes are so pretty. He doesn't really have a chance to realize until after he's done yelling at Mammon about owing him money. But as soon as he registers your eyes, this is what he says.

He loves them, he likes how unique they are. He's never seen a human with eyes like yours, or anyone else for that matter.

When he's more comfortable with you, he's going to tell you about all the anime characters he knows about who also have heterochromia. You can be sure he'll want you to cosplay as some of them. You won't even need to use contacts!

Levi's too shy to look into your eyes all the time, but he kind of wants to. They're so different, he can't really help it. But he'll only glance at them every once in a while, if he thinks you won't notice.

Satan

Notices immediately, but doesn't say anything right away. He first notices them when Lucifer introduces him to you that first day.

Satan already knows what heterochromia is, but he's never seen it in real life. Starts by asking you questions about how you have it. He thinks it's likely genetics, but isn't it possible for humans to acquire it in certain ways, too?

Not at all concerned about staring too much. He'll look into your differently colored eyes all day if he wants to. And sometimes he does. If this makes you nervous, he'll stop if you ask.

Absolutely pulls out the poetic descriptions of your eyes when he's trying to get romantic with you. But sometimes, he's simply struck by their beauty. Your eyes truly are unique, MC.

Asmodeus

He also notices right away that first day at RAD, but doesn't say anything until later. You look pretty overwhelmed, so he's not going to add onto that by asking you all kinds of questions.

But you can bet he is bursting because he loves them so much. MC, your eyes are so amazing! Please say you'll model for him, he has so many ideas for beautiful photos!

His favorite thing is to do your eye makeup so he can compliment the rarity of your two different colored eyes. Piles compliments on you about them while he does it. Insists on taking a million photos.

Just like his brothers, though, Asmo is not immune to the desire to just… look at them. He's getting a little lost in them. He can't charm you, but he starts to think you have the ability to charm him with your eyes alone.

Beelzebub

It takes him some time to mention your heterochromia. Not because he didn't notice, but just because he doesn't feel the need to comment on it. You must already be aware of how unusual your eyes are. He doesn't want to make you feel weird about it.

But eventually he can't help it. They're so different. They kind of remind him of himself and Belphie. Twins that look nothing like each other - part of a set and yet different.

Has no problem staring at them, either. Beel can get pretty intense without meaning to. He's already pretty quiet, so to have him just stare into your eyes can be a little intimidating. Say something to him about it and he'll apologize. He didn't even realize he was doing it.

Sorry, MC. He just really likes your pretty eyes. He wants to look at them all the time. You end up getting used to it and it's not like he's the only brother who can't stop looking into your eyes all the time.

Belphegor

Considering how Belphie first sees you from behind the door that keeps him locked in the attic, it's kind of surprising that he noticed at all. But he did. He noticed right away, but he didn't say anything. He doesn't say anything until much later, after you've made your pact with him.

He wants to tell you how much he likes your two different colored eyes, but he doesn't want you to think he cares too much. So he starts out saying how he's noticed the way Beel finds your eyes so interesting.

Call him out on it and he'll admit, he likes them, too. Of course he does, MC. He's never seen anyone with eyes like yours.

You're the only person with which he'll try to wake up first. If you're napping together or he just decided to spend the night in your bed, he'll do his best to wake up before you. Because it turns out that he really loves to watch your differently colored eyes flutter open when you wake up. Won't tell you this, but you figure it out when he always wakes up before you.

part two with the dateables and Luke

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #request #anon request #misc writes

269 notes · View notes

trancylovecraft · 8 months

Text

(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro (CHAPTER FOUR)

Previous Chapter ☆♡☆ Masterlist ☆♡☆ Next Chapter

AO3 link

CHAPTER FOUR: "Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?"

NOTE: THE SONG OF THE DAY IS "Two Birds on a Wire" BY REGINA SOMETHING. LISTEN WHILE READING IF YOU WANNA HAVE FUN IDK YOU DON'T NEED TO. oh right btw pls send me aesthetic pics for my moodboards, im running out and almost resorted to quotes 😭✋ (which i did but shhh)

oh right, shit also gets real this chapter LETS GOOO.

Suicide notes only accompany in 25-20% percent of cases, Sometimes reaching 50% in some cultures and areas.

Reasons for writing a suicide note can include easing the pain of those known to the victim, To express thoughts and feelings that the person felt unable to express in life or to set out their reasons for committing such an act.

Murders of crows escaped in flocks, Flying high into the air in a wild panic as they hollered that one single phrase over and over again like a broken record player.

"EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY! ATTACK! ATTACK! THE KAKUSHI BASE IS UNDER ATTACK! CALLING FOR ALL NEARBY SLAYERS!"

The sheer number of them was carrying the sound so far, Their call could be heard for miles even all the way to the village. The song of their screams frantic as they all flapped in different directions, Disappearing into the dark horizon.

Tanjiro couldn't see anything, He couldn't smell anything either. The sheer amount of dust made from the debris had blocked up all of his senses making him uncontrollably cough within the smoke.

He stumbled around, The shock hadn't even hit him yet. One moment he was walking around the base and the next he had been flung to the tile roof, All due to that gust of wind.

The tall stone walls surrounding the shrine had suddenly been destroyed all within a single moment, Throwing chunks of rock and wood hurtling into the main body of the shrine and its people.

The screams and shouts of panicked crowds rung in his ear like a church bell reverberated to the nines. It felt so loud, So bloody loud that he thought his head might explode from the raw volume of the wails.

Tanjiro was dazed, It was all a blur moving in slow motion as he tried to catch his footing on the flat of the roof.

It was only then once his foot was steadied that he could finally sense an overbearing presence. Somewhere in the mist.

"Someone is here.."

A voice like faraway thunder jolted Tanjiro out of his stupor, A voice that shook Tanjiro deep down to his very bones. It was nothing like any kind of voice he had heard before, It didn't sound human and certainly didn't smell like it either.

A putrid stench had hit Tanjiro, A sudden smell had came to him and it almost made him drop his sword. This was no ordinary demon, The scent was overwhelming his senses of nothing but pure and utter power.

The gale's sole blessing had manifested in the clearing of the smoke. The after breeze lifting up the thickest points of dust and blowing them away, Yet some still remained as a dark figure was now made clearer.

But it was the figure's six medallion eyes, One's that shone like headlights through the fog that really caught Tanjiro by surprise.

His eyes widened as his arm went to the hilt of his sword on response, Yet when his hand went to grab it he felt absolutely nothing there.

He snapped his head to his empty belt. His heart seemed to stop in his chest.

He still hadn't gotten his new sword sent to him yet, It was still being sharpened. He was absolutely defenceless.

By the time he had looked back up at the figure the fog had cleared completely, The dust long cleared as his eyes settled upon the demon in front of him.

Tall. He was towering in height, Well over six foot at least. His hair tied into a dark spiked ponytail with red whisking at the tips as it flowed in the wind, His hexagonal kimono oversized in the arms as it moved with his hair.

But it was the kanji in his eyes that made him freeze.

"You.. Boy."

His voice rang out again as he turned to Tanjiro. He stumbled back, Despite the demon being a few metres away on the other side of the roof he was still too close, Way too close.

His eyes glared down to the younger slayer, Stabbing into every point of him. Scrutinizing him from afar before finally landing on the piece he feasted his gaze on. Two hanafuda earrings dangling from each ear.

Tanjiro watched as his expression went blank, Only for a couple of seconds before flinching when he saw the demon's mouth contort into a snarl. An angry visage that showed off his lion-like canines protruding from under his lips.

"I.. You.." Tanjiro stuttered. He tried backing away once more but the heel of his foot hit the tile railing. He watched as small bits of debris fell off the roof down to the floor below, It was a long drop. If he fell there was little to no chance of survival.

"Those earrings.." The demon drawled. It sounded like something was stuck within his throat, Something he was holding back. "How did you acquire them.."

Tanjiro tried to steady his heavy breathing as he stared him down. "I.. T-They're a family heirloom.." Was all that he was able to muster up, His voice shaking as much as he was.

Kokushibo felt himself tense up, All six eyes scrutinizing the earrings as he tried his best to calm down the building sense of rage starting to burn inside him. A family heirloom? His brother's earrings, A family heirloom. The idea of it sounded so stupid to him, Not to mention the mere reminder of his twin brother made his fingers twitch and grasp onto the hilt of his sword from instinct.

"A family heirloom.. Disgusting.." Kokushibo jeered. Feeling the words on his tongue he felt the previous anger inside come to a peak, This wasn't acceptable. Yorichii, Do I really need to be reminded of you even five hundred years later?

The sword from his hilt slid out of the sheathe with ease. The eyes embedded into the flesh of the sword darted around wildly, All examining its surroundings as the muscle pulsated.

He drew it to his side. Tanjiro's heartrate started to pick up, Feeling as if it would burst out of his chest as he watched Kokushibo get into a fighting stance. What would he do? He had no sword and there was no exit. What can he do? What can he do?!

Kokushibo pushed his foot forward, Lunging himself forward with his sword ready to slice. He was so fast, Tanjiro could barely raise his arms to his face. A weak attempt to defend himself as the blade drew nearer and nearer towards his neck

CLASH!

It was over in an instant.

Dust from the broken walls and ceiling tiles blew out out into the high night air, A whirlwind of smoke covering anything and everything in sight as pieces of stone and splinter flew off.

Tanjiro coughed once more, The dust blowing hard into his face. He moved his hands up towards his neck to check for any damage. Feeling it over and patting it a few times it felt.. All intact.

"What the.." Tanjiro muttered. His eyes widened as he watched the demon from before jump back into his original position, Landing a few metres away from Tanjiro in a crouched stance.

Tanjiro looked up and gasped.

"Fujimori-sama-!"

[F/N] stood only a few inches away from the younger boy. His position was low and his sword was drawn like a shield, Both it and his body creating a block between him and the demon.

[F/N] looked back towards him from the side, That old fox mask's mouth quirked up into the most reassuring smile it could. The eyes of the mask looking down at him in kind.

"Tanjiro Kamado… That was a close one, Eh?" A light chuckle came from him, Tone dancing in the air like the weight of the whole situation was lost to him entirely.

Tanjiro didn't even think to ask him why he knew his name, Something unimportant in that moment.

"Fujimori-sama.. The demon-"

"Don't worry about the demon. You don't exactly look like you have the proper weaponry to fight back so I suggest you start evacuating the shrine with everyone else, Alright?" [F/N] advised.

Tanjiro shook his head.

"What about you?! This.. This is Uppermoon one! He's strong, I can smell it! You can't take him on by yourself!" Tanjiro cried.

It didn't affect [F/N] in the slightest, Only making him raise a single brow.

"..Really?" He hummed, A playful tune lilting in the air to contrast the dire implications of his words. He seemed to stay there in thought, Only for a moment as Tanjiro watched the mask stare off into the night sky.

"He was able to sense me coming.. Not to mention block my attack.." He muttered, The mask contorting back into a thoughtful visage. An incomprehensible babble to the boy behind him as his eyes finally lit up, An unrecognisable emotion sparking inside his eyes.

The dust cleared once more, Kokushibo stood up to examine the sight.

His eyes landed on the Hashira a few metre's away, Crouched in a defensive position. In a split second that man was able to get himself in between him and the boy, Able to attack in that single moment.

It would of been impressive, Something he would of respected if not for the mans garments.

He wore his usual slayer uniform, Tight fitting and finished with a belt with open arms to show off tattoo's. But the haori draped loosely around his shoulders, That accursed haori drooping from his shoulders was one that shocked his heart like a amateur defibrillator.

The dragon pattern.. That cerulean blue.

"Michi-Nii!"

The grip on his sword hilt got tighter, Almost crushingly so.

How fucking dare he..?!

Kokushibo felt his nose twitch, Eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as they trailed across the rest of him, Prying at every little detail of him. The kitsune mask resting upon his face, The medieval sword propped up in front of him like a shield.

"And does it work?" Michikatsu asked, Studying the mask.

"Haven't tried. It's a sacred artefact of the shrine. It would be a disrespect to Inari if I did." She stated.

A disrespect to her.

Two reminders of his late siblings, One beloved one despised. Both side by side with each other in such a short time frame. It made him absolutely furious, Outraged both by the resurfaced memories and the sheer dishonour towards his sister.

Both the renewment of the shrine and the man parading around with her haori..

It made him absolutely livid.

"You.. What is your name. Tell me it.. Now" Kokushibo pronounced through gritted teeth. It took every inch of his willpower not to pounce and tear him apart limb by limb, Bite into his jugular and rip his voice box out with his molars.

[F/N] finally seemed to snap out of his realisation as his mask's eyes landed on Kokushibo, That burning glint shining bright as he looked at him. The first time getting a proper look.

"Wow.. Uppermoon one, What a pleasure to meet you." [F/N] drawled, Yet it wasn't condescending. Standing up to his full height he matched Kokushibo perfectly, Both men locked in a stare down as [F/N] ignored his question.

Kokushibo didn't answer him, So [F/N] took the opportunity to speak once more.

"I see what Kamado here means about powerful.. Your soul certainly gives off that aura alright." He chuckled again, Taking a few drawn steps to the side.

"Kamado.." Kokushibo pondered. It only took a second to click in his head. The Kamado girl, The one his master had talked about during the meeting. If this boy was here then that would mean the demon girl was here, The one who conquered the sun.

[F/N]'s eyes narrowed.

"Ringing a bell?" He questioned, Cocking his head lazily to the side. Kokushibo didn't answer once again.

[F/N] examined him head to toe. His fingers, His ears and his sword. From his eyes to the soles of his sandals he simply radiated power. A feeling that permeated in the air making molecules shift in his presence.

A wild grin appeared not on his mask but on her face, A wide toothy grin that felt so foreign, So alien to her. It was a smile she hadn't made in years, One she couldn't supress even if she tried.

[F/N] peered back around to Tanjiro, Who was still behind him.

"Tanjiro. I need you to do me a favour, Alright?" He asked. His tone still containing that playful tint yet it held something different now, Something more serious.

Tanjiro nodded

"Y-Yeah, What do you need?" He asked.

[F/N] reached a single hand into the inside of his haori and slipped out a single pristine envelope, Perfectly packaged with a blue fox seal. He presented it to the younger boy, Who hesitantly took it into his hands.

"I need you to deliver this to Mitsuri Kanroji, Alright? Promise me that you will deliver this to her and place it in her hands personally yourself." [F/N] asked. That tone of importance growing ever stronger in both his voice and his mask's eyes.

Tanjiro's eyes widened as he looked down at the envelope, He nodded his head, Ignoring the scent that was coming off his elder. [F/N] turned back towards Kokushibo.

"Go now, Tanjiro. Find a handmaiden named Seijun, She'll help you and the rest down the mountain." He said, Not looking back at him for a second. Tanjiro nodded as he took off, Carefully scaling down the tiled roof's of the shrine.

Kokushibo looked back at the two, Readying his sword once more.

"No.. You're not getting away from me." He hissed, Raising the blade high in the air as he pointed at the two slayers.

[F/N] returned the gesture, His own heavy-weight sword lifted with ease as he pointed it straight back at him.

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" [F/N] exclaimed. The excitement returning to the tune of his voice, A wild primal excitement as he stared the demon on from behind his mask.

Kokushibo prepared his own stance, [F/N] did as well in turn.

As they finally charged at each other, [F/N] yelled out

"Soul Breathing, First form: Psyche Cutter!"

☆♡☆

Heavy footsteps hit the snow with a crunch, The large stature of the Stone Hashira leaving deep footsteps behind him as he traversed throughout the woodland mountainside.

Zenitsu, Inosuke and Shizuko. The younger slayers behind him trailed along with Gyomei's stride in search of the lost shrine-maiden.

Luckily the snow had stopped a little while ago, Making it easier to see throughout the vastness of the tall winding tree's.

It had been only half an hour since they started searching, Yet in that time they had made their way a few miles out from their starting point.

"M-Man.. Is it cold out here, Now I wish I just stayed at the base.." Zenitsu said through a chattering jaw, Keeping his arms folded to try and conserve heat as he warily looked for the maiden.

"Not for me! The mountains I ruled over got real snowy, So of course I evolved to be cold-blooded!" Inosuke announced in his march. It was true, Despite him being eternally shirtless in the blistering cold he didn't shake once despite all odds.

"T-That's impossible! You can't just evolve to be cold-blooded!" Zenitsu cried out, Annoyed from both the cold and his comrades announcement.

"Can too!" Inosuke argued.

"N-No you can't!" Zenitsu yelled back, His words eventually snowballing into a larger quarrel between the two boys. Both seeming to believe whoever yelled louder was correct.

"Ngh.. Can you two shut up? You're giving me a headache.." Shizuko groaned, Cupping his ears with his hands in annoyance.

The two boys ignored him and continued their argument as they trailed behind Himejima. Zenitsu and Inosuke not backing down for a single second while Shizuko gritted his teeth. Gyomei didn't seem to particularly mind, If he did he didn't show it, His stoic expression painted on him like a portrait.

They hadn't found the shrine-maiden, Even though they had been searching for a fair amount of time there no trace of her prescence.

There wasn't any footsteps or any blood, Absolutely nothing.

The rattling of Gyomei's beads slowed as his whitened eyes narrowed in thought. Gyomei had assumed that the most likely scenario was that the maiden had trouble either getting down or getting back up the mountain, Though now that seemed a dwindling possibility.

He sighed, Letting cold mist escape from his mouth.

"Seems like the maiden isn't here.. It's probably for the better that we move down towards the village and check in with the locals." Gyomei announced as he turned around to face the younger slayers, To whom were still fighting.

Shizuko groaned once more before raising his flat hand and bringing it down hard onto both their heads.

"Ne, Stop arguing and start listening to Himejima-sensei! You're giving me a migraine and we're no closer to finding the maiden.. No thanks to you.." He scolded. A rare angry expression appearing on his face with those same perpetually wide eyes glaring daggers into the boys.

"Ack-! W-What the hell man! We are looking!" Zenitsu yelped out, Hands rushing to the quickly forming sore spot on his head.

"I am! I can see a lot of things. Snow, Tree's, Shrubs!" Inosuke butted in. Shizuko groaned once more, Even though they had stopped their spat never quelled.

"Birds, Twigs, Red Fabric, Flakes of snow!" He continued.

Both Gyomei and Shizuko's heads snapped round to face Inosuke, A sudden movement that made his rant pause in its tracks.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?!" Inosuke questioned, His vision rapidly darting to both Shizuko and Gyomei in seconds like a cornered animal.

"Red fabric..? Where do you see that?" Gyomei asked.

"By that tree over there, To the left!" Inosuke said. Arm pointing up straight to a tree just off to the side of the trail they were going down. And sure enough swaying in the wind was an untethered piece of crimson cloth, Blowing in the breeze.

Zenitsu was the first to get over to the fabric, Catching up with it and snatching it away from the wind.

"You're right.. B-But this could be any random piece of fabric.. It doesn't really mean much." He muttered. The piece was too small to make out any defining shape, So small that it was only as big as his thumb.

"Shizuko.." Gyomei ordered an unspoken action, Nodding his head forward towards the boy.

Shizuko nodded back as he quickly moved over to Zenitsu without a second thought and put out his hand.

"Ne, Give it here.." Shizuko commanded, Impatiently shaking his hand as he beckoned Zenitsu forward.

"O-Okay.." Zenitsu muttered as he placed the cloth into the palm of Shizuko, To which the latter shuddered as soon as the fabric brushed at his skin.

Shizuko took the sanguine felt into both of his hands with an obvious reluctance as it looked like he was holding back his own puke. He ran his nimble fingers along the surface of it, Nose scrunching up in disgust as he spoke.

"Ngh.. It's mostly Linen however I can feel a minority of cotton as well.. Ne.. Fairly thick, 0.73 inches.. But judging by the weavement of the fabric it's most likely worn by someone of shorter stature.." Shizuko explained.

"Ngh.. So in other words, It fits the description of the lost maiden.." He concluded, Instantly dropping it back into Zenitsu's hold as he finished his last syllable.

"I see.. And is it fresh?" Gyomei asked.

"Felt like it.." Shizuko replied.

They stayed silent after that. Gyomei seemed to furrow his brows as his mind worked away at the next possibility. Both Shizuko and Inosuke seemed lost in their own world as well, The former following his master in thought while Inosuke seemed to trail along as well.

"She must be somewhere around here.. We must circle back around, She may already be-" Gyomei stopped out of the blue, His words cut off as his senses picked up a change in one of the slayers.

Zenitsu had frozen up, And it wasn't from the cold atmosphere.

"Child.. What is the matter?" Gyomei asked as his tone grew only a little more serious as he stopped the rattling of his beads.

Zenitsu seemed to be sweating bullets as he seemed intently focused on some unknown force. His eyes were shot open and he started to shake, Teeth barren and fingers twitching as he raised his hands up to his ears.

"I.. I-I hear it.." Zenitsu mumbled out an uneasy lilt, Jaw shaking.

"Hear what?" Gyomei prodded.

"T-The Kasugai crows.. The Kakushi base.. I-It's being attacked!" Zenitsu yelped out, Stumbling back a few feet.

A unanimous shock washed over the group like a tidal wave to a sandy shore, The news startling everyone on edge.

"What?!" Shizuko yelled in disbelief as he moved over to Zenitsu. Lowering his head to meet eye to eye as he searched for any sign of doubt, An unsure gaze, Anything he could find to try disprove his declaration.

But he came up empty, Only staring back into shaking saffron irises. The hands over Zenitsu's ears tightened as he howled out in pain. He fell to his knees, The sheer volume of the crows combined with his hearing was too much as he felt ichor start to trickle at his fingertips.

"Zoritso!" Inosuke called out as he instantly rushed over to his friend's side.

Gyomei at this point had unsheathed the axe and chain from within his overbearing haori, Already given enough confirmation from his Tsuguko's reaction as he tightened the grip on the wooden handle and chain.

He ignored the suffering of the younger slayers, His expression firming up.

"We must go at once then, No time to spa-"

"Blood Demon Art: Electrokinesis, Third form: Thunder Swarm!" A voice suddenly yelled out from within the storm and as soon as it finished, The attack commenced.

Black bolts of lightning shot out of nowhere, Bursting out from the blade of Kaigaku, Leaping down from the tree branches.

☆♡☆

"I'll see you soon, 'Tsuri"

Those words. Those five simple words echoed in every little corner of her mind. On paper they seemed so little, So obscure. Small talk to the normal ear, In a normal conversation it would be such a normal farewell and by all means it was.

But it just didn't sit right, Not with Mitsuri.

She ran fast through the snow, Her legs were burning as she tried to focus her total concentration breathing. She maneuvered around rocks and over fallen logs, Carefully but quickly ascending the tough terrain with ease.

Her heart pounded so rapidly in her chest so much so that it was painful yet Mitsuri continued onwards. She had to keep going, She needed to get to the shrine as fast as possible.

Keep going, Don't stop. Not for a single moment.

Mitsuri had been running for who knows long, Hours maybe, She hadn't stopped for a second. An awful feeling sat dormant in her chest, A foreboding omen that unsettled her for too long.

As soon as she had heard those five little words she'd known that something was wrong-

No. Mitsuri had always known something was wrong. A draining parasite that sat in the back of her mind, Eating away at her for years now. Those words.. It was just those five little words that made her realise what that something was.

The parasite had been nibbling away at her, Planting little ideas of possibility and doubt into her passing thoughts every time she and [F/N] talked. Back then she had brushed them off, Not completely of course but enough to where there was plausible deniability. Just enough to where she could push it out of her mind.

But when [F/N] had muttered those words, Spoke them in such a normal tone of voice there was absolutely no more avoiding it. Her doubts, The possibilities.. She needed to face them.

Or maybe it wasn't those words specifically, It was the way [F/N] had looked at her when she said them.

Her stare, Her blank doe-eyed gaze permeated into Mitsuri's mind. The picture in her mind vivid as it was as she first saw it.

The smile [F/N] had on her face just didn't quite reach her eyes, A small little smile that felt so wrong looking back on it. The dull stare that pleaded to Mitsuri's own, Begging her no matter how unconsciously it may have been.

It was such a melancholy gaze, A sad little smile. She remembers now the tiny quirk of her lip.

Mitsuri should of done something sooner.

Back then Mitsuri herself couldn't process the deeper meaning. But she remembered her body reacted sooner than she herself should of, Grasping onto [F/N]. Holding her hand as she tried to get inside the carriage.

Subconsciously she had recognised the meaning. She should of said something, Should of done something. Ask her to stay the night, Go with her, Or even just offer her a simple hug then maybe [F/N] wouldn't think that way.

But in the end she did nothing. She just let go of her hand, Feeling the warmth slip away from her grasp.

Only a few hours later did the true meaning really render inside of her mind, And when it did it hit her like nothing else ever did before. What it meant, She knows now.

As soon as Mitsuri knew she had taken off, Running off into the streets without a second thought. Something bad would happen, Something terrible would happen if she didn't get there to her on time.

Mitsuri knew she shouldn't of let go of [F/N]'s hand. The regret pounding throughout her bloodstream as she felt tears involuntarily drip down her cheeks. She shouldn't of let go.

Even though she didn't do anything back then didn't mean she couldn't do something to stop it now. Mitsuri needed to, She wouldn't let [F/N] slip away once more. Never again, She will be there for her this time.

And as she heard the call of the crows, Mitsuri knew that this would be her last chance to do so.

☆♡☆

"Moon Breathing, Fourteenth Form: Catastrophe, Tenman Crescent Moon"

Siphoning ultraviolet crescents flew out haphazardly into the fighting ground, Crashing down onto the nigh-derelict rooftops throwing rubble out everywhere. Several stray crescents hurtling past the slayer, Barely able to avoid the attack.

It was absolute chaos, Pandemonium. A spectacle of whip-like half-moons striking at it's enemy so swift that any normal person would be severed in half in an instant.

By chance however [F/N] was no ordinary person as he dodged and weaved throughout what very little openings were given, Body contorting and swimming through the gaps as he tried his very best to land his own attacks.

"Soul Breathing Second Form: Seven Separate Spirit Slashes"

"Moon Breathing, Seventh Form: Mirror of Misfortune, Moonlit"

"Soul Breathing Sixth Form: Apotheosis Blade o' Ascension"

"Moon Breathing, Ninth Form: Waning Moonswaths"

Kokushibo never gave much of a chance however, His movements or slashes of his sword never strayed from what could be considered perfect form. The closest so far [F/N] had come to severing his head was when he had lobbed off an arm, Which regenerated within a split second.

It was enough to frustrate anyone, Anyone but [F/N].

The wide smile he had worn at the prospect of a fight had grown into a euphoric grin stretched ear to ear. For the first time in years, [F/N] had felt alive.

Though the several cuts on his arms and legs bled, Though he had been fighting for several hours he had never gotten tired. Not once did he falter or stumble, Not once did he succumb to exhaustion.

Not even the aching in his lungs, Which grew more painful with every breathe he took. The adrenaline made him feel nothing.

Kokushibo on the other hand felt the same way, Yet the anger in his chest only seemed to infest inside him more and more as the fight went on. He wanted this one to suffer, He wanted to watch this one bleed out on the ground while he crushed his windpipe.

The disrespect he had shown, Both to him and his sister. The careless attitude The Hashira had towards him, The haori he was desecrating. It made him absolutely furious. Even more so when he found more difficulty than normal when attacking him.

His transparent world showing his body to be at it's peak potential, Though oddly enough he wasn't able to see through the porcelain mask on his body. Kokushibo had to admit this was the longest fight he'd had in centuries.

The man he fought having zero fighting spirit, An oddity. Something he had never came across within a human, Combined with the mastery of the blade and his repetitive action movement he made a formidable combatant.

Even though he despised his opponent, He had to lend a begrudging respect.

[F/N]'s sword swayed along with his own movements. White wisps of translucent mist danced along the blade and left a shivering trail as it went. It was beautiful, Glowing so softly in the moonlight yet it struck so hard it burned like fire.

[F/N] landed in a crouching position after dodging another attack just by the hair on his back. Pushing both his hand and foot forward he launched himself towards Uppermoon one at high speeds.

Yelling out his next attack he readied his sword

"Soul Breathing Fifth Form: Noumenon High Dragon!"

The wisps tailing the edge of his blade were set ablaze, Picking up in velocity the trail formed into a tail as [F/N] rushed towards Kokushibo.

The demon readied his own attack in turn as The Soul Hashira's technique bursting into the shape of a gigantic jaw-opened dragon speeding towards his form, Twisting and swirling around the demon ready to swallow him whole.

"Moon Breathing, Sixth Form: Perpetual Night, Lonely Moon - Incessant"

Kokushibo swung his own sword down as soon the dragons gaping maws were about to bite down on him, An array of hyper-violet crescents exploded from Kokushibo's blade.

The sheer kinetic energy caused by the clashing of their swords erupted from the centre of it all like an immovable object to an unstoppable force. The energy hit the ground below them, Blasting both of them apart by the raw force.

Flying off of the tiled roof, [F/N] was shot up far into the air with Kokushibo in the opposite direction.

[F/N] yelled out in surprise as he flailed around in the air, Spinning and swooning around as he started to fall downwards.

Wind rushing through his kimono as he watched the ground grow larger and larger. He raised his sword and took a deep breath in, Ready to counteract gravity with the force of an attack.

"Soul Breathing Third Form: Soul fire, Burn bright!"

Just as he was about to hit the ground he struck his sword, His breathing technique bursting out into a bonfire as it connected with the dirt of the courtyard.

It was successful. Enough to stop the fall but also enough to throw him back up.

Luckily however he had hit one of the lower roofs of the shrine. And thankfully due to his recovery breathing the damage wasn't serious, Only a few scratches and later bruises to decorate his skin.

"Ack-.." [F/N] coughed, The dust from the impact hitting him as he lain sprawled out on the roof. His chest moved up and down, Breathing in and out while only feeling a tiny bit of pain in his ribs.

"Wow.. That could of been bad.." He heaved, Voice hoarse and rough. He raised his upper body so he was now in a hunched sitting position, Completely still except from the movements of his lungs.

[F/N] sat there for a moment not moving in the slightest. He could no longer sense Kokushibo's powerful aura, At least not nearby anyways. It seemed like the force of their blades clashing sent him flying to the other side of the shrine.

That's fine. It gave [F/N] time to recuperate from the non-stop attacks they threw at each other, He needed to savour these moments as best he could.

[F/N] looked around at the destruction of the shrine, It hurt. It felt like his heart was wrenched out of his chest every time he came across levelled rooms, Broken walls and fallen statues.

The home [F/N] resided in for years, One that had provided warmth and comfort when nothing else did had been destroyed. Memories long gone played out in his mind as he came to terms with his loss. It didn't matter now though, He supposed.

He ran his hands down his body to examine for wounds. Feeling along the torn fabric of his uniform and the dips in his flesh [F/N] figured that he wasn't too badly injured. While there were a few points where his fingers came up bloody he had judged it wasn't too bad.

It didn't hurt anyways, Not to him.

Settling his hands onto the roof he pushed himself up with only minimal effort. Stumbling a little to gather his balance he finally steadied himself upon the roof's wooden structure in the middle, Walking on it similar to a tight-rope.

He stalked along the middle beam, Movements similar to a feline's as he put one foot in front of the other.

Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck [F/N] decided it was time to go back into battle. He needed to at least buy enough time for the last of the residents to evacuate the building, Afterwards there was only one thing left to do.

As he strolled along the edge of the roof he made his way to the end, Lowering his knees and k-

"[F/N]!!"

He froze in place.

That voice, No.. She wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't how it went in his head, Not at all.

"[F/N]! P-Please.. Turn around.. Alright?" The voice yelled, A high-pitched tone that sounded so desperate in that one moment that [F/N] couldn't disobey.

And once he did turn around, The expression on Mitsuri's face hurt more than any wound inflicted on his body.

"'Tsuri, Hey! You're not suppose to be here.. You know?" [F/N] chuckled, A practiced sound that seemed so strained now as the façade he had tried to build up for so long crumbled down around him along with the shrine.

Mitsuri was sobbing. Tears leaked out from her face like a faucet, Her eyes were bloodshot like she had been crying for a while. Something that was most likely true. Every so often she let out a small choked wail from within her throat, Gasps for air following it close.

It looked as if her knee's would buckle under her weight. It was such a painful sight that [F/N] couldn't bare to look at her.

It felt like his heart was beating a hundred miles per hour, Thumping madly in her chest like a metal drum. He tried to keep a straight face, Some kind of mental barrier he could place between him and the woman he called his best friend.

"D-Don't act like that.. Just.. P-Please just don't act like that right now, [F/N].." Mitsuri yelled out, Her voice pained and shrill.

"'Tsuri.. I.." [F/N] couldn't find the words to say, His mind blank. No words could explain himself, None at all.

"I-I don't wanna hear an excuse.. Please.. I.. I just want to talk.. N-No excuses or lies.. Just the truth." She cried.

[F/N] stared back at her through the mask, Guts turning at the sight. However the porcelain face held up as he wore a blank face, One you might see at a poker table. He mulled over her words, An unnoticeable cold sweat suddenly dripping down from the side of his head.

"..Okay" [F/N] whispered. It was such a low tone but in that single moment it felt like it was just the two of them in the world, Making his mumble seem like a deafening scream to her ears.

"[F/N].. I.. I'm so sorry.." Mitsuri cried. She brought her shaking hands up to cup her face as she cried into them, A fleeting attempt to hide her grief.

[F/N] shook his head.

"Mitsuri.. What do you need to be sorry for?" [F/N] said. A levelled tone playing in his voice.

"I.. I s-should of done something sooner.. I should've known that you were feeling like this, I.. Why couldn't I notice.." She shook her head warily, Trying her best to hold back the choked sobs from her throat.

[F/N] steadied his breathing, He couldn't break.

"Mitsuri, I'm fine. You don't need to wo-"

"[F/N] I'M NOT STUPID, JUST LISTEN TO ME!" Mitsuri screamed.

[F/N] flinched, The sheer volume of it catching him of guard. In all of his years knowing Mitsuri, [F/N] had never seen him act like this, Like a completely new person stood before him now.

"I-I'm not stupid.. I can see how everyone's feeling.. I can always tell how angry Shinobu is or- or how unhappy Giyuu is all the time.. I can see how everyone is truly feeling, That's always been my talent.." Mitsuri lamented.

She wiped off the tears with her sleeve

"A-And just because you hide behind a mask.. That doesn't make you an exception, [F/N]! It never has..!" Mitsuri shouted once more, Now staring up at her best friend. The person she's known all her life freeze in place like a statue at her words.

"It's just.. All the time you're so.. So sad.. I-I've known you for so long and it's been going on.. F-For the same length of time.. S-So much that I just took it as normal but looking back now I feel so- so stupid!" She cried out.

[F/N] couldn't respond, He felt like a spotlight had been shun directly on him now. Like he stood in front of an unwanted audience as he stared her down.

"Y-You're scaring me, [F/N].. Y-You're really, really scaring me.. Just please.. T-Take off the mask.." Mitsuri broke down into a quiet sob, Soft cries aching her throat.

[F/N] looked back at her, An indescribable emotion etched into the porcelain of the mask. He felt his fingers twitch before raising them towards the straps. Lightly unlocking the clasp at the back she pulled the leather down from her head, Lowering the kitsune mask into the palms of her hands.

[F/N] stood there, The blank expression she wore was flooded with tears flowing free from her eyes as she gazed down at her best friend breaking down. Her lip twitched, Unable to say anything as she barely held back quiet cries of her own.

"'Tsuri.. Please, Just don't look at me like that. Just.. Just don't" [F/N] said, Swallowing back her pain.

"I.. I just.. I.." Mitsuri babbled as she clutched the centre of her chest, Trying to soothe the ache of her heart.

"You've got to leave.. 'Tsuri, It's not safe here, Alright..? I've got to get back to the fight.."

"N-No!" Mitsuri yelped out, Cutting off [F/N] prematurely.

"P-Please.. 'Tsuri, You've got to go.." [F/N] said. Her breath was growing more laboured by the second as the tears dripped down her eyes.

"N-No, You're not going back to the fight, [F/N].. Y-You can't go, You can't.. I.." She bit down on her lip, The thought trailing with her words were cut short.

"Why..?"

"B-Because when when you go into that fight.. Y-You're hoping that you won't come out of it.. And it terrifies me.." Mitsuri cried.

Her words felt like a knife jabbing into [F/N]'s heart, Like a blade was eternally twisting and turning inside of her arteries. It hurt, Out of everyone she had ever met, Mitsuri was the last one she would have wanted to say that to her.

"J-Just please.. G-Get off the roof, Come down.. D-Do not waste yourself on this roof, [F/N]. D-Don't you remember our promise..? Please.. J-Just come to me..?" Mitsuri pleaded, Reaching her hand out for [F/N] to take.

Her words felt so enticing, Like an oasis in a scorching desert.

Something she had been searching years for, Only to turn up in a gift wrapped box sitting on her doorstep. [F/N] felt her fingers twitch, So desperately wanting to reach out and take her hands.

But the letter had already been sent, Her mind had already been made up so long ago. As much as she wanted to hold her hand, Run away and never look back [F/N] knew that it wouldn't be enough.

"'Tsuri.." [F/N] mumbled. Mitsuri caught on quickly to her tone and her eyes widened.

"N-No, [F/N]! Please.. Come down, P-Please just take my hand.. PLEASE!" She cried out as she watched [F/N] place the mask back on the now his face.

"'Tsuri.. Do not feel guilty over me, You were the best friend I could of ever asked for. You did your best.." [F/N] smiled.

The mask was now matching his expression as it looked down on Mitsuri, Who rushed forward but her knees finally buckled making her fall forward.

"Ah-!" She cried out. [F/N] tried to resist the urge to go and help as he spoke.

"'Tsuri.. You still haven't recovered from the swordsmith village attack.. Not to mention it looks like you've been running for hours.

"Please, Don't exert any more energy." [F/N] said as he turned around back towards the direction Kokushibo would be in.

Mitsuri screamed out for [F/N].

"P-PLEASE, [F/N]! L-LET ME COME WITH YOU, PLEASE! A-AT LEAST LET ME COME WITH YOU. W-WE GO TOGETHER, L-LIKE WE ALWAYS HAVE! TOGETHER!!" Her voice was so painful it tore a hole into [F/N] as he tried not to run to her side.

"I'm sorry, 'Tsuri.. Between the two of us, You have people that will miss you. There are a lot of people out there who love you, Adore you not just for your strength but just for yourself. Between the two of us.. You'll have people who will mourn your loss." [F/N] said.

Mitsuri didn't even have time to scream out as Seijun rushed over from somewhere south. She had been put to help with evacuations and Mitsuri's screams had alerted her over.

"[F/N]-sama! Kanroji-san, Are you both alright?!" Seijun asked, Alarmed by the incoherent babble of Mitsuri in front of her as she desperatley tried to pull herself to her feet. A futile attempt as she just fell back down.

"..We're alright, Thank you.. I hope evacuations are going well?" [F/N] asked. Cocking his head to the side as he tried his best to focus on the maiden instead of the mourning.

"Smoothly. Due to the combined efforts of the slayers and the handmaidens, The first round of escapee's have successfully gotten away… Though there are quite a few many still around.." Seijun said, Quickly bowing down to her superior.

[F/N] nodded.

"Seijun. Thank you for helping out with the evacuations, I sincerely appreciate it.. All I ask of you now is that you could escort Kanroji-san out of the area. She's in no state to fight and is delirious." [F/N] turned back to look at the two, A reassuring smile sat uneasy on the mask.

Seijun nodded as she started to pick up Mitsuri by the armpits. At the touch of the handmaiden Mitsuri instantly started to scream and flail around in her grasp, In complete hysterics as she cried out [F/N]'s name.

"Kanroji-san, Please calm down-"

"[F/N]! [F/N]! PLEASE! L-LET GO OF ME, LET ME GO! [F/N] COME DOWN, COME TO ME PLEASE- I CAN'T DO THIS WITHOUT YOU!" She screamed. Despite her inhuman strength her muscles were so tired from both her injuries and the marathon here that she could barely even struggle in Seijun's hold, Just scream and scream as she tried to get out of her grasp.

[F/N] turned back, Walking on the roof like a lamb to the slaughter as he tried his best to ignore the gut-wrenching pain in his stomach. He had made up his mind, And as much as [F/N] adored Mitsuri it wasn't going to change anything.

Her screams got further and further away as he drew his sword once more.

As they did, He raised his head high and smiled.

☆♡☆

"Blood Demon Art: Electrokinesis, Third form: Thunder Swarm!"

Black bolts of ebony struck down from Kaigaku's blade, The steel conducting the movements as he brought it down onto the group of slayers he had been tracking for quite a while now.

Several yells called out into the vastness of the forest, Snow exploding into the air once the thunder whipped at the ground. Kaigaku cackled as he heard the screams of his prey, The game of cat and mouse had begun.

He had leapt out from one of the tree branches, Ones he had been carefully maneuvering on as he quietly trailed along with the group.

Kaigaku had struck at the right time, They had taken the bait. The red cloth was a carefully placed lure he had swiftly placed in order to lead them into a honey trap, It was easy. Especially once he knew who he was dealing with.

He was shocked at first. Not in a million years did he expect to come across them, Not at all. It was something that seemed impossible to him, But here he was pouncing in for the attack.

Gyomei, Zenitsu, Shizuko. Along with that boar-headed kid they were well-known targets, Once he had lain his eyes on them his heart seemed to soar in his chest. A sadistic kind of glee bursting up from inside of him.

People who had looked down on him in the past, People who had treated him like he was just another person and not the prodigy he really was. The kind of people he truly despised were right in front of him, All grouped together.

Even though he was ordered to attack the shrine from the other side, He had to take this. It was an opportunity he couldn't pass by on, Not for a single second.

They group was launched into the air. The force pushing them away from the focal point as Kaigaku watched the boar-headed kid land into a tree, Hitting his head and passing out while the other two kids were pushed off a steep hill.

He laughed like a closing in hyena. His body falling close to the ground as he prepared to land, All before a chain launches out of the snow dust, Hurtling straight towards the demon.

Kaigaku swerved. Only dodging the metal by a hair as the mist finally cleared, Revealing The Stone Hashira standing strong in-between the snow. Chains in hand he swayed them about as the axe in his hand started to swing between his fingers.

Another chain shot out from beneath his haori sending it straight towards him at nigh-impossible speeds.

Kaigaku breathed in to steady his style. Tossing his sword up into the air he threw out a hand and wrapped it tight around the chain. Tugging once he screamed out into the night

"Blood demon art-"

An explosion of electricity erupted out from his palms, A black current travelling down the steel chain as it quickly developed into a shockwave heading straight towards Gyomei.

Sensing the incoming thunder he let go of the chain and threw out the axe as it hurtled towards Kaigaku.

Catching his sword in a single hand Kaigaku brought it down with a clash! The metal hitting together with hot sparks bursting out from the sheer force of their connection.

Kaigaku landed on the floor. Gyomei's axe successfully deflected as he hit the ice, Steadying himself with a single hand as he peered up at the Hashira with a Cheshire grin.

"Gyomei.. You've bulked up a bit since I last saw you." Kaigaku sneered. A condescending drawl drawing out every syllable as he peered up at his former peer.

Gyomei halted in his actions, A sudden stop to his quick movements. Grasping the unelectrified chains it pulled on the axe, Catching it in a single hand as he froze in place.

"That voice.. It cannot be.." He muttered. Memories seemed sing out inside of his mind, Voices he remembered coming back to him for the first time in years. Ones he had pushed away, Hidden and ran from yet all coming up within the brutal song of the demon's voice.

Kaigaku's grin grew bigger.

"What? It's not the kid you let be thrown out? The person you discarded so easily? The one whose gonna put this blade through your skull?" Kaigaku cackled, Raising his sword and pointing to the sharp metal.

"Oh.. Right. My bad, You're unable to see the thing that's gonna to kill you. How sad!" Kaigaku laughed as he gripped the side of his head, Tufts of ebony hair sticking out as he hollered like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Gyomei's frown got sharper.

"A low hanging insult.. Even for you, Kaigaku.. It pains me to know how badly you've fallen.." Gyomei lamented as he recalled back on the time's they shared together.

Kaigaku, An orphaned child. One of nine who he had taken in at his temple, One of nine who he cared for like his very own. One of the children who he had worked himself down to the bone for, Tried his hardest everyday to provide for. Even going as far as to starve himself just so they would have enough food to satisfy them.

Even though he was blind, Even though he was starving almost every second of the day making him frail and scrawny he worked to provide.

He had considered them all family, Even if they had no blood connection it never mattered. The covenant was stronger than the womb, They loved each other no matter how bad it would get.

But that one fateful day, That one day was like carved stone in his mind. The wisteria incense put out, The betrayal he had known as he heard the screams of terror from the children he considered family.

Kaigaku had been a thief, He always had been. But when he had gone so far as to sneak out at night, Run into a demon and sacrifice the peers he had known just for a chance at survival that wasn't even guaranteed.

They were all slaughtered by the very thing Kaigaku chose to become. It proved how little he cared, How little humanity he had in the first place.

In the end, He could only save two. And it cost him his freedom, His chance at a normal life.

All because of the demon in front of him.

"How badly I've fallen? Gyomei, I'm upper six now! I've been risen to such great heights, By a man who could actually see my worth!" Kaigaku proclaimed, Raising his hands out as if to announce this to the world.

Gyomei paused, Letting the words sink in.

"Then.. I doubt that man was a good judge of character.. You've always been such a weaselly little boy." Gyomei stated. Even though he couldn't see he could practically feel the sudden drop in Kaigaku's smile.

Kaigaku stood there, The hands he had raise shook. This wasn't the answer he had been expecting from the man.

"..How dare you.. My master is an honourable man! He knows my worth!" Kaigaku yelled out. Baring his canines out towards The Stone Hashira who stood there motionless, Starting to rattle his beads once more.

"No.. You've always been such a pitiful little thing.. Such a selfish child.. You have as much worth as a rat in the gutter." Gyomei announced with such a sad and nostalgic tone, Yet it held so much weight that it felt like a stone to the head to Kaigaku.

His jaw fell agape, Displaying his rows of sharp teeth. From the way Kaigaku was imagining this day in his head, He didn't expect this of all responses.

He had envisioned the sheer pain drown out the features on Gyomei's face, Tears drip down from his eyes as he begged for forgiveness under the sharp point of Kaigaku's claws. He'd cry, Yell in pain as he was slowly mutilated in the slowest way possible.

He didn't expect to be fixed in place, Feet feeling so heavy he was unable to lift them. Unable to do anything as he stared him down. He felt helpless, So helpless. And that made him angry.

"I-I am powerful now! I am strong! You just can't comprehend how powerful I am now, Y-You're the one that's weak! You just can't believe how great I am now!" Kaigaku yelled, His voice suddenly sounding hoarse as he gripped the hilt of his sword tighter.

"Really.. Are you really that great?" Gyomei asked quietly.

"O-Of course I am!" Kaigaku yelled back in response.

"Then.. If you truly are.. You would know a distraction when you see one.." Gyomei finished.

Kaigaku's brow raised before a sudden prescense- No, Two presences appearing from behind him at nigh-impossible speeds.

He only turned around in time to see the two boys, Zenitsu and Shizuko, The two boys he knew so well raise their swords in a prepared attack.

"Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash"

"Earth Breathing, Second Form: Seismic Shake"

They screamed in unison, Only a few feet away from Kaigaku's stunned body as they raised their respective weapons. Thunder started to crackle at the metal of Zenitsu's katana while the murky smell of fresh compost emanated from Shizuko's machete as they charged towards him.

Kaigaku lowered his knee's and jumped back just in time to avoid the massive crater left in the place where he stood.

"You bastards-!" Kaigaku screamed out as he was flown out into the air. He looked down at the horrified visage of Zenitsu, While he scowled at the enraged Shizuko as they jumped up towards him once more.

"Ne, You're one to talk..!" Shizuko screamed as he used the tree branches to throw himself up to Kaigaku's level.

"K-Kaigaku.. How could you!" Zenitsu cried as he followed in his peer's footsteps.

"Oh shut up you wimp! You know exactly why!" Kaigaku screamed as he watched the two slayers come up towards him, Preparing another attack.

Just as the two were about to swing their weapons a metal flail flew out from beneath them all, Shooting out towards Kaigaku.

This isn't good, This isn't good at all. Kaigaku was seething, This moment was suppose to be glorious with him on top and those below quivering under his iron fist. But he had no more time to daydream as he was about to be attacked on three separate fronts.

Zenitsu directly below, Shizuko from the front and Gyomei from the side. He couldn't lose, He was special.

Quickly, Kaigaku had no time to think as he activated his blood demon art. His sword igniting as he yelled out his attack.

"Thunder Breathing, Fourth Form: Distant Thunder!"

Kaigaku screamed out as bolts erupted from the cold steel of his sword, A versatile attack reaching in all directions. Below, Front and side thunder crackled out in response to the attack.

He wouldn't let them kill him, Anyone but them. He knew he was worthy, But also knew he had to prove it.

And this was the perfect way

☆♡☆

Kokushibo stood in the middle of the rubble, Standing in the midst of broken wood, stone and clay as he examined his surroundings.

He had been thrown to the other side of the shrine, An unexpected force from the joint impact pushing him off the roof. Kokushibo had meant to get back to the fight, Get back to that accursed Hashira.

But as he looked around, He found himself hesitating.

He took a deep breath in, Inhaling the cold night's air into his lungs as he reminisced on old memories. It would be the last time he would ever get to experience this after all, The shrine was in complete disrepair now.

It was bittersweet, The memories he had here played in front of him like a reeling tape. How he'd come back from a mission only to be greeted with the smell of stewing vegetables and sweet berries. He'd smile and walk inside only to be greeted by [F/N] and Yorichii.

Now the mere scent of human food disgusted him.

The shrine would be destroyed, Not like there was much to save in the first place. The slayers had desecrated it, Infected it like parasites and transfigured it into something unrecognisable from its original state.

And just like a parasite leeching on the flesh of an arm, The only solution was to cut it off. It wasn't her shrine he was destroying, No. It was already gone, He was just levelling another base of operations. Nothing more.

Kokushibo was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps hitting the tiles, A slow pace as they walked up to his location down below in the garden

He turned, Looking up to see that slayer on top of a roof point, Balancing on a single foot. The moon shone down from behind him, High in the sky to illuminate their oncoming brawl as his haori danced in the breeze.

A neuron clicked within Kokushibo's mind once his sight connected with the mans stance, A realisation dawning on him.

"You.. I remember you now.." Kokushibo drawled as he fully turned over to look up at him.

"Really? I don't remember us ever meeting." [F/N] said carelessly, Yet there was still a hint of curiosity in him as he waited for the demon to go on.

"No.. We have not met.. But you, You are the slayer who killed one thousand of my kind.. In a single year.." Kokushibo said, Eyes narrowing as he stared him down.

He remembered his the notice from his master ringing inside his mind, The announcement demanding the death of this slayer for the crime of efficiency. This one single demon hunter had managed to cause such alarm in Muzan, A feat never done before.

They had never managed to catch him, The slayer was rather tricky.

Moved about place to place and never lingered long, Never slept in any inn's or districts. Any demon that did come face to face with him however was instantly shot down and killed in seconds.

Normally, Kokushibo would hate to see a waste of talent die out. He never understood why slayers would prefer staying human, Instead of becoming a demon to perfect and hone their technique to perfection.

But knowing the weight this man had, Knowing the haori he disgraced and the artefacts he wore with no care. Kokushibo had no bargain to present to the slayer, Instead enticed by bringing his head back to Muzan for the reward.

"What is your name.." Kokushibo asked.

"Fujimori." [F/N] replied, Shrugging his shoulders.

"Your full name.." Kokushibo prodded.

[F/N] wondered why he wanted to know, Why it was necessary information. But in the end he supposed that the demon wanted to know what name to write on the trophy stand.

"It's just Fujimori." [F/N] answered back, If that was the case then he wouldn't give him the satisfaction. If he was going down then he was going to make it as inconvenient as possible for his killer.

Kokushibo breathed out hot air from his nose. The careless tone in the slayers voice angered him, How could he be taking this so casually? A fight with Uppermoon one and he took it like child's play.

It was infuriating.

He drew out his sword once more, The flesh pulsating as it grew out in length. [F/N] in turn drew his own blade from the sheathe on his back, Pointing it at him like the judge to the accused.

"Alright then. Don't hold out now, Better give me all you've got!" [F/N] laughed as he jumped down from the shrine spire, Sword raised as he swung it down.

"Soul Breathing, First Form: Psyche Cutter!" He screamed, Sword alight with white wisps as it hit down onto the place Kokushibo once was, Rocks erupting out leaving only a crater.

[F/N] turned around, Seeing Kokushibo about to pierce into his back he raised his sword in response.

Metal on flesh connected with a clash! Both swordsmen's blades pushed against each other, Battling for that single opening to end the fight once and for all. [F/N] struggled, Letting out little groans as Kokushibo's strength was unmatchable.

Kokushibo yelled out, A pained scream. He swung out a forceful attack making [F/N] back up as their swords rapidly connected back and forth, Withdrawing and crashing right back into each other. If [F/N] stopped for a single moment, He'd be cut down.

[F/N] could barely dodge the oncoming breathing techniques as he tried to let off his own, It was one after the other so much that he couldn't take his mind away. He supposed it was a good thing.

Mitsuri's face, That desperate expression. Her hysterical screams for him to come back, To not do what he needed to. It was all set into the stone of his mind, Appeared when he blinked and hallucinated her voice.

[F/N] was thankful he had no time to think about it.

Their blades made sparks burst out like a faulty lighter. [F/N] started to struggle, The grip on his sword beginning to fall despite his iron-clad grip. His grin never faltered though, This was what he had been expecting.

[F/N] was only human, His stamina was bound to run out eventually and he knew this.

Jumping back up onto the roof to avoid another attack, Kokushibo quickly followed after. It was labouring as [F/N] tried to balance both his feet and his continued slashes at the same time, Being pushed back by the force of the demon's blade.

He felt his breath get heavier with each inhale, The pain in his chest doing nothing to help him as he felt his fingers ache. He only had so much left to go before his body finally gave up, Before he collapsed. This was [F/N] chance, To go out in one single blaze, Hopefully taking down the Uppermoon with him. His final action as a slayer.

Ever since he saw the kanji in his eyes, Ever since he felt the raw power coming off of him [F/N] knew what action to take.

The Eighth Form of Soul Breathing. The most powerful of them all, An attack that left [F/N] bloodied and beaten into a coma the first time he used it. Hospitalized for months in critical condition.

The year onwards he hadn't used it, He didn't dare. It was an attack only supported by the blade he was wielding, The Soul Sword. An attack that utilized the trapped spirits in the blade, Using the power of them all in one devastating move affecting both the user and target.

He felt the trapped souls of one thousand course through the hilt of the blade as they continued to duel against each other in rapid motions, The concentrated spirits radiating through his skin. If he used this attack, It was bound to kill both him and anyone in the surrounding area.

But Kokushibo? He wasn't sure.

Thankfully however the evacuations were successful, [F/N] had made sure to check. Everyone was out and at least a few miles away from the shrine, It was just the two of them now fighting to the death.

[F/N] smiled lightly. No one would get in the way, Not the hand-maidens, Not Mitsuri, No one. There would be no casualties on [F/N]'s hands, That was good.

[F/N] needed to try. To end it all and try to bring at least something good out of his death, To bring something good out of his life for once.

But then, He caught the faint hue of carmine red.

The mask's eyes widened as it caught the vivid colour tucked hidden within the rubble, It was barely there but [F/N] could make out a face. One that sparked up his own in recognition.

It was Maika.

Maika sat hidden behind a torn wall, She looked wounded with her kosobe being stained in thick ichor. She stared wide-eyed at the fight, Looking absolutely horrified. Her hands cupped over her mouth, Not daring to speak for a second.

But what concerned [F/N] the most was her legs, They were trapped under a large wall crumbled down onto her. She was unable to get out.

No.. No this wasn't good. [F/N]'s heart beat faster and faster by the moment, Losing concentration from the fight as he stared the injured girl head on trying to make sense of the sight in front of him.

Maika was still here, She had somehow gotten back to the shrine only to get caught within the destruction. Did the evacuation team miss her? Did they not find her? [F/N] felt his jaw shake, He couldn't use the Eight Form. Not while she was still here.

[F/N] dragged his eyes away from the girl, Trying not to alert the demon of her presence. Before he had taken this fight with a careless grin but as he saw the young girl there, Injured and terrified the stakes had finally hit him.

Her life was at stake, And somewhere deep inside him he wasn't willing to let that life slip through his fingers.

He can die any other day, But she needed to go on. Maika was too young.

[F/N] pushed himself up into the air, Sword readying itself above his head as he ignored the implications of his thoughts. He couldn't use the eighth form, Not while Maika was here. So [F/N] had to settle on the next best thing as the wisps grew into a blazing inferno.

"Soul Breathing, Seventh Form: Takamagahara's Wrath, Divine Judgement."

Moonlight danced around his sword as gravity pulled him down forward straight to the demon. Spirits trailed along as energy picked up. He felt the air shift around him and the energy pulse in his sword.

Kokushibo raised his own sword once again, A counterattack ready to happen.

"Sixteenth Form: Moonbow, Half Moon"

His sword moved up and before he knew it, [F/N]'s sword was at his neck, Sharp side pressing into the side of his neck. [F/N] screamed out, Exerting his energy as the fibres of Kokushibo's neck started to tear-

SLASH!

[F/N] landed on the other side of the roof, Sandal soles lightly touching the ground as he steadied himself.

[F/N] stood there completely still, The only movements of his figure was the light breeze passing through his clothing. He sheathed his sword, All before his knee's shook and [F/N] stumbled hard.

Copper was tasted at the tip of his tongue as he stumbled around on the roof losing his balance. He could only feel the sudden burn in his abdomen as his foot pressed down onto nothing, Letting him tip off the roof.

That speed, That blinding speed. Kokushibo didn't utilise it before, He had been formidable yet.. [F/N] felt the dawning realisation rise.

Kokushibo had been toying with him.

He had drawn out this fight, Holding back his true strength. Those cuts placed onto [F/N]'s body were a way to torture him, To let his blood be drawn and to feel agonising pain in the highest degree.

[F/N] never stood a chance.

[F/N] knew this was what he wanted, The thing he had been craving this entire time. This should of been a sweet release, Yet there was such a bitter aftertaste that it filled his mouth along with the blood. Overwhelming his senses.

He still wanted this, He did. It was a happy finality, It didn't matter whether he was in an immense amount of pain or not. It didn't matter at all. Yet the thought of Maika's fate was the one to spoil that moment.

Would she be okay? Would she be discovered by the demon?

He could barely comprehend the question as he hit the ground, World going red.

☆♡☆

Hack, Slash, Hack, Slash!

Kaigaku had barely any time to dodge the unrelenting slashes of Zenitsu, All while dodging the bloodthirsty hits of Shizuko's machete. Both desperate to get to his neck, To sever it and take it as their reward.

It wasn't even the most difficult part. Gyomei had still not moved an inch from his stance on the snow yet he kept sending out axe then flail, Ones Kaigaku couldn't even dodge at times due to the velocity at which they went.

Even then Kaigaku asked himself why Gyomei didn't dare to move from his position, This wasn't like the man he knew. The one who would charge head first into a problem and tackle it head on. It made him angry, Gyomei should be trying to kill him yet he chose to refrain.

And it made him absolutely livid when he found out the reason. Gyomei Himejima, The man who he had lived with for several years, The man who was his family only to be abandoned and ruined the life of all because of Kaigaku was holding back.

All because he still harboured love for him.

Kaigaku yelled out in frustration as he prepared another blood demon art, This time focusing off of the two boys who were still hurling attacks and insults at him as he targeted Gyomei instead.

The thought of him holding back infuriated Kaigaku to no end. Stupid human feelings.. It was disgusting. The notion of it, The action of it, The feelings that rose up inside Kaigaku himself were all absolutely disgusting.

"You fucking bitch!" Shizuko screamed as he charged at Kaigaku once more, Machete wildly trying to hack away at his neck.

Kaigaku dodged. Completely ignoring him in favour of charging at the other man as he got behind Shizuko, Pushing his foot into the dip of his back he used the forced momentum to launch him forward towards Gyomei.

"You absolutely worthless human being!" Kaigaku screamed His sword was raised as he charged at the blind man. Kaigaku ignored the way Gyomei's frown got deeper, Ignoring the way his own grew deeper as well as he got closer and closer. Black sparks jolting out from the metal.

"Himejima-san!" Zenitsu cried as he gave chase, Doing all he could to ignore the past both him and the demon shared as his blade charged up.

Shizuko joined in, Screaming his master's name as Kaigaku got closer. It was clear, Gyomei couldn't kill Kaigaku, He wouldn't. The memories they had shared together were too strong to be cut down for him.

He would rather die than kill one of his kids.

Despite how much Shizuko respected his master, He chided him for letting that get in the way. Even though Shizuko shared the same memories as Gyomei did with Kaigaku, He never let it get in the way.

Not in the way of his work.

Kaigaku was only a few inches away, Sword lightly grazing the skin of Gyomei's neck about to be cut down in an instant.

Come back, Now.

Kaigaku's eyes widened. The voice of Kokushibo, His master, Rang throughout his head. The telepathic link connected to him sounding an indescribable tone in his voice, Something he had never heard off his master before.

Emotion..

Kaigaku jolted away from Gyomei, Landing a few feet away from him as he skidded on the ground.

Zenitsu and Shizuko rushed over to Gyomei's side as he stood there frozen, Kaigaku had stopped. His senses told him so but for what reason.

Kaigaku looked back at the group and snarled at the feeling so persistant on bubbling up inside him. It was weakness, Human emotion. He had no time to think it over as he took off in a single shot of lightning, Leaving the group behind.

Shizuko snapped his head over to the sound of faraway thunder only to realise that the bastard was gone, Escaped while he was concerned over Gyomei's safety.

He gritted his teeth and screamed out into the night after him.

"Ne, Come back and face us! You're a coward, You've always been a coward.. COME BACK AND FIGHT US!" Shizuko hollered out, Voice echoing through the vast treeline surrounding them.

Shizuko could only hope that the demon he once called his brother could hear his yells as he was chased off into the night.

☆♡☆

Erratic sputters of blood erupted from [F/N]'s throat, Making ichor drip out of his mask and down his chin, Staining his already drenched uniform.

Everything hurt, Everything hurt so bad unlike before. [F/N] kept telling himself to breathe, In and out. It would be over soon, Everything will be over soon. He wouldn't need to worry anymore, He had got what he wanted.

[F/N]'s body made spasms, Wild jerks of motion as his back was propped up against fallen stone.

When he fell he had landed into a pile of rubble. Jaded rocks jagged into his flesh, Opening wounds and bursting blood vessels. If his vision wasn't blurry enough, The dust that came up from his heavy landing had made it nigh-impossible to see.

It was a miracle [F/N] was holding on as long as he was. The wound cut so deep into his abdomen that you could near see his guts. He had lost a lot of blood too, More than a normal person could survive losing.

He could barely make out the shape of the maiden only a few feet away cried quietly.

"F-Fujimori-sama.. Fujimori-sama.." She wept. Tears were left unashamedly flowing down her face as [F/N] lolled his head to meet hers.

He had to blink once to remove the visage of Mitsuri appearing on her face. It was funny, [F/N] had never noticed the visual similarities between the two until now. If his lungs were in shape, He might of laughed at the thought.

"Mi-Maika.. Listen closely.." [F/N] rasped out. Voice hoarse as dry as the maiden nodded quickly, Intently ready to hear his final words.

"Y-You need to trust me here.. Y-You won't be able to get out in time.. So.. I need you to get under the rubble.. H-Hide yourself.. Alright?" [F/N] coughed up more blood, Staining the inside of his mask as Maika's eyes widened.

"D-Don't make a noise.. No matter what happens to me or.. Or what you see.. O-Only until sunrise are you to come out.. Only once you know its safe.." [F/N] wheezed as he watched a shape in the mist start to form.

"Q-Quickly.." At his final word enunciated Maika quickly pushed herself under the rocks, Burrowed her small body into the tight space until all [F/N] could see was the moonlight's reflection on her eyes.

[F/N] smiled weakly, He hoped it would be enough to keep her hidden. Enough to save her life as he watched the figure in the fog take shape into his assailant, The man who would be his executioner.

"Pathetic.. Really.. You were able to take out one thousand of my kind.. Yet you fell to me, Even when putting in your all you just couldn't win.." He drawled out, Making sure to pronounce every syllable. Mocking the man, A sharp frown etched into his face yet [F/N] could tell he was enjoying this. Every last second.

[F/N] felt his vision double, A dark haze appearing over the horizon of his eyes. He could barely hear what Kokushibo was about to say next, All blurring into white noise.

He felt the dark haze thicken, He didn't hesitate to let it swallow him whole.

Kokushibo breathed out air from his nose, Returning his blade back to its hilt as he took slow strides towards the fallen man. He watched as his head lolled from side to side, Most definetly in a state of semi-conciousness from the blood loss.

It really was pathetic. If this man didn't bring up such horrid memories, If his very cells didn't make his blood boil he might of offered this man to become a demon. A way to forever hone his already impressive skills.

It was a waste, But it didn't matter now. This Hashira will die by his blade, It was near-written in the stars.

Kokushibo stopped in front of his incapacitated body. All six of his eyes taking in the sight before him as he crouched down to the mans level.

He was sprawled out, Body black and blue in so many places.

Kokushibo knew he was still somewhat awake, In between death and life. Even in such a spot he should've been able to move, Say something at least.

But the man never said anything. Kokushibo lowered a brow, It was if his body was fighting tooth and nail to stay alive yet his mind was ready to give up. It puzzled him, Any other slayer would be fighting whole heartedly to stay alive yet this one decided to go out without complaint.

"You.. Fujimori. You are such a miserable creature.. Everything about you is simply.. enraging" Kokushibo seethed as his eyes moved onto the rest of him. Kokushibo reached a single hand out to grasp the soft fabric of his haori.

"This haori.. How you were able to get a hold on it confuses me.. Yet angers me all the same. The way you wear it.. The way you no doubt have stained it with blood of those you've killed.. The way you wear it is a disgrace to it's true owner.." Kokushibo lamented. His voice growing only a tone drier.

He trailed a thumb over the pattern. The scales of the dragon were soft under his touch, It made a chill go down his back. How he was able to get his hands on this homemade pattern he didn't know, He had buried it with his sister's body.

Yet here it was, Caressed under his claw.

"The gods may be punishing me.. Making me look at it again.. But I suppose it does not matter now, Not to you.." Kokushibo said. His hand trailed up the man's body, All the way up to the rim of the kitsune mask.

He trailed a talon along his jawline, Deep enough only to make his body twitch at the touch.

"Not to mention the precious artefacts.. One's you wear and wield like your everyday kimono.. Disgraceful." His talon moved up to dig under the brim of the mask. Kokushibo watched on intently as his claw played with the leather strap wrapping behind the mans head.

"I am unsure whether you can hear me.. yet.. If you can.. I want you to watch as I tear out your intestines.. A fitting punishment for your crimes.." Kokushibo whispered.

His claw started to rip the leather slowly. The hide easily coming apart as he tore it down once.

It broke.

The fox mask fell to the floor, A loud clatter hitting the floor.

Kokushibo's heart stopped in his chest.

What.. What is this?

The smoke around them seemed to settle down back to where it came from. The moon was raised high in the sky, Looking down upon the scene from the heavens.

Kokushibo's hand retracted instantly, His body jerking away like he had just touched hot coal.

All sets of eyes went like saucers, All fixed down to the young woman in front of him.

It.. It was [F/N].

His little sister..

No- That was impossible. It couldn't be.. She had perished in his arms over five hundred years ago. He held her cold corpse, He cradled her cadaver begging any god who could hear him to bring her back to him. His tears wet her corpse.

Before this was a man, A man of stature unlike his little sister's. Yet when he took off the mask.. One moment it was the man he had defeated, The next it was her.. But.. It couldn't be her, He was hallucinating again. It couldn't.. It just couldn't!

Yet Kokushibo nudged forward. He reached out a hesitant hand. His fingers lightly cupped her cheek, So delicately as if she'd break from a single touch like a porcelain doll.

He felt the fading warmth in her cheeks, He felt her skin corporeal in his hands.

She was real but..

He heard a soft whisper come out from her throat, Something repeated over and over like a broken tape.

He moved his ear closer to her

His eyes only grew wider once he made out what it was

"M.. Mi-Michi..Nii.."

She mumbled softly, Blood still leaking out of her mouth. Kokushibo's jaw fell agape, His grasp of her cheek growing shaky.

There was no doubt

She was real, She was here.

But how.. How could she be here?

Kokushibo felt his vision start to blur yet never felt the hot tears leaking out of his eyes.. He was crying. She.. She said his name.

His jaw shook as he looked down at her, He saw the red ichor leak out of her gut. He saw the thousands of cuts placed onto her skin, All the bruises and the blood.

Did.. Did he do that?

Memories hit him. Back to that day in the snow, The day almost identical to the present. The day he saw the wound in her back.. The day she died..

Kokushibo yelled.

His body moved for him. In a single second he wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her up onto his shoulder, Carefully cradling her body like a small child in his hold as he started sobbing.

He felt her blood stain his kimono, He felt a panic shock him to his very core.

She was going to die.

That thought on its own was enough to send him into a bloodlust. It didn't matter how she was here, How she was reunited with him once more. It all faded into the back of his mind as the one task came clear in his mind.

He couldn't let death take her away from him, Not again. He couldn't lose her, He needed to keep her alive.

The one person whose ever loved him more than Yorichii. She needed to live.

Kokushibo yelled out to Kaigaku in his mind, The telepathic link connected from him to Tsuguko calling out to him. Telling him to come back. They needed to go, He needed to save her life.

The shrine didn't matter, It was if it never existed to him anymore. Going after the evacuees nor searching for useful information throughout the ruins were not a thought going through him.

Carefully making sure she was secure in his hold he pushed her head into the crook of his neck, Made sure her arms were locked around his neck as he watched Kaigaku run up on the horizon.

"M-Master..!" He called out to him as he ran. However his pace skidded to a halt once he came in front of the event unfolding before him.

His master was holding a maimed girl.. And he was crying.

"Wh-What is-"

"Quiet." Kokushibo hissed, His tears still fresh and flowing down his cheeks as he let out a harsh silence.

Kaigaku didn't push him any further. Shut his jaw and listened, The curiosity killed on his tongue yet the incredulous expression still played out on his face.

"We are leaving. Now." Kokushibo said.

Kaigaku nodded quickly. Bowing down low to show respect as he watched his master turn away, Softly running his fingers through the hair of the girl he held. Kaigaku was baffled, He couldn't understand it.

"Nakime!" Kokushibo yelled out.

And in a single strum of a biwa, They were gone.

☆♡☆

The sun rose up in the sky. Clementine skies painted like a tapestry, Only stopped by the misty clouds adorning the atmosphere. Cold air dancing on passer-by's skin as soft sunlight shone down towards the butterfly mansion.

It was lively. Crowds of escapee's and refugee's flooded into the gates of the mansion desperate for medical attention as the staff ran around trying to tend to them all. They all arrived on wagons, Coming out in groups.

As several people walked by they were lightly pushed out the way. Mitsuri ran like hell through the crowds, The lime hue of her eyes scanning every wagon. Every person who resembled [F/N] even if only a little bit.

She asked around. Asking any person she could find to see if they know of her whereabouts, All came up empty. None knowing where she was.

Mitsuri was in the middle of talking to a shrine-maiden when she heard her name called out from the side of the mansion.

"Kanroji-sama!"

She snapped her head over, Only to be met with Tanjiro.

He was standing in one of the nooks in the garden, The one next to the shed with several trays of plant life growing along the windowsill.

Mitsuri rushed over to him. A glimmer of hope rising up inside her, Tanjiro. If anyone was to know where she was, It would be Tanjiro. He was apart of the rescue team after all

"Kanroji-sama.. I'm glad I found you." Tanjiro greeted her, Bowing once. Mitsuri returned it rather hastily with a last-minute smile. "No. I'm glad I found you, Tanjiro.. I've been all over.. But.." Mitsuri huffed, Her injuries still severe as she had to take a breath.

Tanjiro laid a hand on her back, Patting it lightly as if to relieve her pain.

"Thank you, Tanjiro.. I came to ask.. H-Have you seen [F/N]? Was she able to evacuate or.. In fact, Have you seen Fujimori?" Mitsuri said. She grasped Tanjiro's hands into her own, Hope shining in her eyes as she looked at him.

Tanjiro frowned a little.

"N-No.. I haven't seen [F/N], Nor have I seen Fujimori-sama.. I'm sorry." Tanjiro apologised.

The grasp on his hand felt lighter, Mitsuri's smile faltering only slightly as she gulped down the overhanging feeling in her gut.

"I.. I see.. Thank you anyways, I.. I better get back to searching." Mitsuri said. She tried to keep her normal tone, Her normal bubbly tone that she wore everyday without effort yet there was an undeniable fumble as she walked off.

"Wait!" Tanjiro called out.

Mitsuri turned back around to see Tanjiro search his pockets, All before fishing and holding up a folded envelope in his hands.

"I haven't seen [F/N].. But, Fujimori-sama gave me this letter.. He told me to deliver it to you.." Tanjiro announced as he presented it to Mitsuri.

A letter.

A sudden cold sweat washed over Mitsuri. A bad feeling came up in her gut as she walked over.

Mitsuri took the envelope in her hands. The soft paper feeling like sandpaper in her touch. She steadied her breathing, Trying not to break down in front of her Junior.

Taking in a deep breath she carefully picked off the wax seal and unfolded the envelope. Watching as the folds came undone only to drop a pristine piece of white paper in her hands.

She started to read.

To Mitsuri, My dearest friend.

This probably isn't the letter you wanted from me, I know that and I've tried to make it better so it won't hurt as much.

This is about the fiftieth time I've tried to write this letter, Over and over again I've tried to find the right words to say to try and make it perfect, But every time I just end up throwing it out.

So I've decided to just speak my mind, Let it all out. No more redo's. Alright?

First off this isn't your fault, It's not at all. I've been feeling this way for as long as I can remember and I've tried and tried to find a way to feel something else other than monotony or subservience. Sake and such. but nothing has ever worked for me. So I want you to know that however I died, Whether I found someone strong enough to kill me or that I finally found the gut's to do it myself. I want you to know I did it I did on my on volition. I chose this, You have nothing to feel bad over.

Life just isn't worth living for me. I remember getting asked a short while ago what my purpose in life was, What my motivation was. It ate away at me for a while trying to find an answer. But In truth I have none except for protect those I hold dearest to me, Yet once I found out that my single motive became obsolete I now realise that what we call a reason to live is also an excellent reason to die.

I'm living a lie, Everyday I go to work as someone I'm not because of myself. It's pathetic. There isn't any meaning, I'm sorry for saying this but as these are my last words I feel like it's necessary.

I feel like I missed out on a lot of things. A family, My childhood, A normal life. All of these things I feel like have slipped out of my grasp away from me, And I can't get them back and that hurts me more than I can put into words. Everyday it haunts me and I just can't take it anymore.

But, I lied earlier when I said nothing made me feel something other that monotony.

The truth is its you. You were the only thing that made me feel like I had a family, Like I had my childhood, Like I was a normal person for once in my stupid little life. I adore you, Tsuri. I really do.

Do you remember that day on the porch? You probably don't but I do, I know it was just a one off thing you did for me but at the time I felt like a little girl for once, I felt so happy in that single moment and it meant the absolute world to me. It was probably the first time I ever had a genuine smile on my face. I treasure that memory so very dearly.

Please don't feel sad over me, I don't want that. I love you so so much and I know you probably don't feel the same. I'm sorry you had to put up with me, You deserved a better friend than me.

If Shizuko ever finds out the truth, Tell him his big sister is sorry she couldn't be there for him and that I'm so proud of him for becoming a slayer.

I love you, And I wish I said it sooner

-[F/N] Fujimori

"Kanroji-sama..?" Tanjiro asked, Taking a step towards her.

The letter shook in her grasp, Letting the envelope fall to the floor as she gripped the letter in both hands.

"Kanroji-sama.." Tanjiro watched as wet splotches started to stain the letter, All before the woman he looked up to fall to the floor

And scream.

Next Chapter

139 notes · View notes

bajisbbg · 8 months

Text

🐈‍⬛

tw: this is my first time actually posting anything i’ve written. i made these pretty late at night so i’m sorry if they’re bad i just wanted to write something. probably some spelling mistakes and stuff i didn’t feel like checking it throughly.

a/n: please be nice

personal

* i’ve mentioned this before but baji absolutely LOVES the yakuza game

* favorite one is yakuza 0 (definitely not because this is the only one i’ve watched so far🌚)

* john cena fanboy for absolutely no reason. has his theme as his ringtone

* number 1 baby metal fan. owns their merch and goes to every concert

* his favorite season is summer for obvious reasons but his favorite holiday is definitely christmas because he and mikey ride around with shin

* HATES horror movies. like nothing can convince this man to watch them. even the kiddie ones like goosebumps or scary stories to tell in the dark will have him act like the devil just touched his soul

* definitely the kind of guy to walk around with one lens in his glasses after a fight

* purposely named his bike cockroach knowing pah is afraid of them

* he used to hate his fangs when he was little because kids used to tease him and say he was a dog

* that was until he started saying he’d bite and give them rabies if they kept messing with him

* cannot grow facial hair to save his life

* judges people on how they interact with animals, specifically cats

* despite popular belief, i don’t think he would get any tattoos. he seems like a piercing guy and definitely cannot sit that long for a tattoo

* gave himself the alias edward because he used to watch twilight with his mom

* he even had a phase when he acted like a vampire but will vehemently deny and threaten anyone who dares to bring it up

* is lactose intolerant and just like many of us will eat dairy and instantly regret it as soon as it hits his stomach

* sometimes he feels insecure about the fact he was held back, all of his friends moving up while he’s left behind

* even though he has a reputation for committing arson and slightly unprovoked violence, keisuke is truly a model citizen☝🏽

* volunteers at shelters, helps the elderly, feeds the homeless, solves climate change. he truly is a saint and can do no wrong!

home life

* i like the idea that his mom was a teen mom and that his father was never really around and just stopped coming one day

* due to her job, his mom sometimes works really late or super early so over the years he’s learned to cook (the only good thing he can cook is yakisoba)

* on the nights he knows his mom will be back late he cooks her food and despite it not being the best she still loves it

* even though she works a lot the two of them are still very close and their favorite thing to do is read manga and watch mystery dramas whenever she’s off

* despite not knowing his dad(he only visited when he was a baby) he never felt insecure about it

* he’s a total mamas boy, and will fight anyone who says something about her

* when ryoko was younger, she wanted to have a lot of kids but after having keisuke she changed her mind. she felt it would be selfish to have so many kids when she works so much and after realizing how much of a handful he can be.

* despite that and having him at such a young age, keisuke was the best thing to ever happen to her and wouldn’t trade him or his wildness for the world.

relationship

* back on the yakuza point, whenever you’re sad he’ll grab a hair brush, turn up the radio and start singing 24-hour cinderella to you until his voice is gone

* when you guys get in a fight he’ll act like he’s in a 2000’s r&b mv and start singing bakamitai. chifuyu gets the hose to spray water above him, kazutora plays the music, and ryusei records the whole thing so baji can send it to you

* a biter, like what’s the point of him having those sharp ass teeth if he don’t try to take a chunk out of you

* whatever your favorite animal is, he’s gonna buy every single book about them so he can share little facts about it with you

* if you’re into a specific artist or group, he’ll listen to their whole discography and learn everything in the fandom

* becomes a horanghae enthusiast and will force you to be one as well

* just like he’s loyal to his friends and toman, he’s loyal to you

* like foreva togetha foreva LOCKED IN 🤞🏽

* a girl tries flirting with him and all of a sudden he’s hellen keller

* the type of boyfriend to say you’re too spoiled whoever you ask for something while doing said thing you requested

* will literally lift his ass off the seat while you’re sitting next to him and fart on you then blame it on you

* talm bout some ‘ew the hell did you eat’ like his diet doesn’t consist of yakisoba, monster energy drinks, and beef glizzies

* speaking of farts😸 keisuke will send pics of his shit to you asking if it looks normal

* will make fun of you if you’re lactose intolerant as if he don’t be upside down on the toilet fighting for his life

* is constantly in your personal space. like he’ll be standing behind you while you play like candy crush or best fiends mumbling about moves you can make. sometimes he’ll snatch your phone and play it himself

* what’s yours is his. mid chew on something he wants? he’s opening your mouth and popping it in his, no matter if it’s soggy

* absolutely loves giving and receiving hugs, being in your arms makes him feel safe and gives reassurance that despite all of his flaws you still love him

* stares at you with his mouth open, no matter what you’re doing or how you look his eyes are on you 24/7

* takes the absolute worst pictures of you on facetime and puts each one in his favorites until the end of time

* throws rocks at your window at like 4 in the morning knowing you both have school just so you can ride around with him until the sun comes up

* i feel like he’d totally like mellow down on the things he does. he doesn’t want to worry you while he’s away

* constantly checks up with you so you know he’s okay and not lying on the ground somewhere and dying 🌚

this is so scary bye 😭

82 notes · View notes

lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 8 months

Text

I have a really weird hyperfixation on The Mummy, but not the Boris Karloff or the Brendan Fraser versions, those would be completely acceptable movies to enjoy (and I do so enjoy them)

but I cannot stop thinking about The Mummy 2017 starring Tom Cruise and it's a problem

I love bad movies, I love them so much, I own so many b-grade horror flicks, old classic films with terrible acting and awful special effects, I love absolutely shit tier cgi, I love Ed Wood disasters, I love cult classic bad movies, I love really weird niche bad movies

but this one is like, such a special kind of bad movie, I can't really put my finger on exactly why though?? but I am damn well going to try, in this essay I will-

they fucked up from the get go by casting Tom Cruise, like this movie is sometimes deliberately goofy, but a lot of the time it takes itself very seriously, SO seriously, and I cannot physically take Tom Cruise seriously, he turns every single scene he is in into a joke by virtue of his mere presence

but when they have actual jokes, they are so not funny they cycle back around to being really fucking funny

I am watching this movie fucking whiff every god damn beat it tries to hit and it does it so beautifully it's a god damn marvel

Russel Crowe as Jekyll and Hyde??? I actually somehow missed the part where he introduced himself as Jekyll on my first watch, so the Hyde reveal was a true surprise to me and I was very genuinely disappointed on my second watch when I realised it was not supposed to be a surprise, because that was a really fun reveal

and Russel Crowe seemed to be having an absolute fucking whale of a time as Hyde, I loved every moment he was on screen with his stupid cockney accent, I would watch his movie, I know it would be bad, that's why I want it, because there is nothing quite like a bad movie with an actor still giving 110%

and the mummy character herself? she was supposed to be pharaoh and then her dad had a son with someone else and now this baby is jumping all up in her place like, okay baby murder might not be the coolest thing in the world but like, she's got ambition, she's getting shit done, she's hustlin' like go get it girl I'm rooting for you babe

also when she sucked the life out of some dude and turned him into a shrivelled husk my roommate said 'she could do that to me and I'd thank her' so she's got that going for her, like girl's a half rotten corpse wrapped in decaying bandages and she still slays

and then we have the completely ridiculous female rivalry??? like this mummy could kill this woman SO MANY TIMES and just doesn't???? for reasons?????? like she could literally kill her in an instant at any moment but no they gotta girl fight for a bit because Tom Cruise is at stake and why wouldn't two hot women fight over Tom Cruise right?? right????

nevermind the fact that he has been practically nothing but ✨The WooOOOOooorst✨ to her the WHOLE first act of the movie, oh and uh let's not forget the 'duh huh guy bad at sex' jokes that they just could not put down for a good chunk there (but wait! uh he's good at sex actually she's just being mean because he hurt her feewings)

like, this movie hits every fucking branch of the bad trope tree, this movie is playing bad trope bingo, it is collecting bad tropes like pokemon, it has to have them all

also a really bizarre ongoing American Werewolf in London reference?? it was not unwelcome, it was some of the best comedy in the movie (that is an easy bar to jump btw), the actor had some great wry line delivery, I enjoyed it

I think the biggest issue, and the reason I can't stop chewing on this magnum opus of garbage, is that it reminds me of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, in several different ways

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen also happens to be another of my favourite bad movies, but it falls into the particular genre of bad movies, a fucking cool as shit concept, and some really cool as shit visuals, and some very cool as shit characters, but an absolute swing and a miss on the delivery

The Mummy 2017 starring Tom Cruise has That Vibe to me, there is some cool shit here, we know this because the previous version utilised that cool shit very very well, but this one was the only one who made the villain a woman pursuing a man, and not just any man, the ✨worst✨ man, you did not feel very sorry for this guy, honestly watching him go through the constant torment of being stalked by a bodacious supernatural babe who put a sexy little curse kiss on him was fun, he's a sopping wet little meow meow and I wanna see him thrown at a wall, and I get to see that several times, and it is a delight every time

in the previous movie the mummy went after really likeable characters, people who were just generally nice, a roguish scamp with a heart of gold, or just really hot, seriously that cast was beyond smoking what the fu

I did not like Tom Cruise as a character, and to be fair that was the point, he was supposed to have a redemption arc, the story and his sacrifice at the end were supposed to be about him becoming a better person

but he fucking doesn't??? it's like 'oh boo hoo I have made this great sacrifice and now I am a monster and I did it to save my lady love's life even though we had zero chemistry and I was just ✨The Worst✨ to her' and then he fucks off to go and do the exact same shit he was doing at the start of the movie, fucking around in the desert looking for boy adventures

it was a great ending and I loved it because it was so dumb and also he abandoned the woman he brought back to life to go fuck around with his bro who he also brought back to life, I love that for them, go have some boy adventures you madlads you sure didn't earn it but don't let that stop you, just heterosexually ride off into the sunset together it's fine, she is literally better off without you in every way you made the Correct Decision

and then there's these moments, moments that are treated like big moments, and could be really cool moments, but just don't fucking land

there's a part where Tom Cruise starts talking to the mummy in her own language (they got a psychic bond and shit which is it's own cool little thing we'll get back to that) and everyone is watching like 😮 oooh didn't know he could do that wow there really IS magic bond between them oooh, and it's like a Big Deal and Very Cool

but Tom Cruise just sounds like he's speaking gibberish with a mouth full of novocain???? it doesn't sound cool at all??? it sounds really goofy???? I half expected him to start drooling on himself

then there is the ending, leading lady dies, he completes the ritual to invite the god of death into his body (a fucking baller move honestly), he fights it for control as the mummy attempts to sway the beast inside him to her side, but when he sees his beloved laying dead he fights her off, using his newfound powers to defeat her, and then weeps over his lady love begging for her to wake up

and then as he lets the god inside him loose, a terrible monstrous visage takes him over as he bloodcurdlingly screams in her face WAKE UP!!! and the power within him that he doesn't understand and can barely control listens

she wakes, and sees him hiding in the shadows, unable to face her now that he has become something terrifying

at least that's what I think they thought the scene would be like, it was a little more like, some crappy flashback and speed up effects as he becomes the god of death, a really pathetic and uneventful 1 minute of him fighting for control, after which he has a really pathetic and uneventful 1 minute of fighting the mummy, and then as he screams for his lady love to wake up, we get a shot of some absolutely fucking god awful cgi and the most uninspired monster face I've ever seen

I mean, half seen, it was a very dark shot, in fact most of the movie is shot in the dark, a very blatant attempt to obscure the shithouse cgi

except in one scene where it kinda fucking slapped, where the mummy sucks the life out of some guys, and then reanimates their husky corpses as thralls, the way they stand like jerky unstable puppets being dragged to their feet by unseen strings was actually pretty fuckin' dope and the dark scene obscured the details in just the right amount to make their uncannily decrepit silhouettes appear super creepy

this is the only time that trick works, every other time I just want someone to turn on a fucking torch so I can actually see what the hell's going on

okay now let's get back to that psychic bond thing

our main character was chosen not because he was a descendant, or a reincarnation, or just Looked Real Pretty (although I think she did have the hots for him a leeetle bit which is like, girl raise your standards, it's Tom Cruise, he's about as sexually appealing as a wet potato, you can do better), he had absolutely zero in common with the mummy's original choice for this ritual, in fact that guy was not significant to the story at all, I think he was just some dude who was down for some ritual shenanigans 'cause a hot lady asked him (also he was hotter than Tom Cruise so this is a significant downgrade, I feel like if she had the opportunity to shop around a little she might have picked better)

so Tom Cruise wasn't chosen for any reason other than that he's the one who released her, and she sees this as her way of saying thank you, and I love that, it's real sweet, would love if I opened a door for someone and they repaid me by summoning a god of death into my body, that really shows they care you know?

she gives him a little hallucinatory kissy kiss and then manages to follow him everywhere, while also compelling him to follow her without him really knowing it, there is a very cool part where he's trying to drive away from her, but somehow ends up driving in a circle and falling right back into her clutches, that was cool, that had the potential to even be super fucking creepy, she can manipulate him without him even realising, it doesn't matter where he goes or what he does, he will always somehow find his way back to her, that's so good, I love that

and then back to the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen comparisons

The Mummy 2017 starring Tom Cruise established a concept of an organisation who hunt down, collect, and research supernatural phenomena, with a leader (Jekyll) who also has ulterior motives and is actually not really the good guy, this movie was also supposed to be part of a monster movie cinematic universe, so this really could have become like, the Universal Monster Movie equivalent of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and I would have watched the hell out of that, and I am crushed that this movie bombed so bad and ruined the whole plan

like could you imagine a whole series as bad as this movie? all culminating together as the most god awful Avengers style team up? fuuuck I want to live in that universe so bad

I think my fascination comes from this ungodly mix of real pure potential, those fleeting super fucking cool moments and concepts that, if given to literally any other actor, could have really been something, and the just pure insane failure to make literally anything in this plot successfully land a hit

somehow this movie felt like the completely dead and soulless corpse of a cheap party clown, while the ghost of something incredible flickered in its eyes

#the mummy 2017 #movie breakdown #I have Things To Say

87 notes · View notes

1d1195 · 10 months

Text

Screens II

Read the first part here: Screens

Another thank you to my 🪁-anon. Without you and your kind request, this story would not exist. I hope you enjoy this part as much as possible. Thank you to the following anon's for their support, I don't have names or emoji's for you but here are the kind messages I've received patiently waiting for a part 2: one and only Screens fan, #1 Screens fan, and this one that sobbed while trying to finish reading it. I did not mean to exclude anyone, I typed Screens into my blog's search bar to gather this information.

Finally, this anon provided a good chunk of the inspiration.

I hope you all enjoy it. I wrote it in a sense in a series of flashbacks and you will see this ◊ to indicate the difference in flashback scenes vs. my standard * to indicate a bit of time has passed.

"Okay on with it, lady. You talk to much." --Everyone reading this (probably).

Harry wasn’t so distracted by how pretty she looked with hair and paint falling across her pretty skin and over her beautiful face that he missed her saying the word ‘if.’ A hopeful sign that she believed in a miracle even if she was too scared to say so herself on any given day. Part of him also noted and hated the idea of her finding an apartment without him; even after a mere nine months of being in absolute love with her. He wished he had asked her to move in right then.

December | Holiday Break | 8:30 AM

Harry was extremely mindful of announcing his presence around her because he hated how jumpy she got when anyone else spooked her because she didn’t always see them coming around the corner or something. He especially did so in the quiet of the morning or the stillness of the evening. “Angel?” He called into his apartment. It was chilly on their first day of holiday break from work. Harry wanted her to stay the whole week with him. She couldn’t deny she didn’t want the same thing. He ventured into the winter air and returned with hot coffee, foam on top just as she liked.

They’d been together, officially, for a little over a year. But having known her a bit for the better part of a decade, it was easier than he ever thought to be in a relationship with her and he wished that he had thought of it long before last November. “Mm,” she hummed barely loud enough for him to hear as he approached his bedroom. “M’sleeping,” she mumbled against the pillow as he made his way across the room.

He chuckled quietly and set the coffees on his nightstand before slipping back under the covers with her. She rolled herself on top of him, legs on either side of his hips and her face pressed against the front of his shoulder. She was scrunched against him like a little ball. “Don’t move.”

He wouldn’t have if someone tried to force him to move. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her head. “Coffee’ll get cold,” he mumbled, rubbing his fingers against the back of her head. She sighed but said nothing. “C’mon, kitten. Y’told me t’not let y’sleep late,” he cooed and kissed her again.

“I lied,” she murmured. He chuckled. “M’too heavy, that’s it, isn’t it? Want me off you?” He rolled his eyes and squeezed her tight against him.

“No, y’silly thing.” She lifted her head up and hovered above him for a moment. She didn’t speak but she lightly drew her finger over his features. He watched as her eyes squinted, sliding over the trail of her finger in silence. She did this at least once a week. Usually when they saw one another on the weekends because they had more time than their Thursday night ritual. “What are y’doing?” He asked her.

Her cheeks reddened and she shook her head. She didn’t say and Harry let it drop. He always let it drop when he asked. Part of him thought nothing of it, surely it was for a portrait—a painting or a drawing she was working on. She had seen her do it with a rose, tracing the thorns carefully; or the arm of a park bench, admiring how it looked in the afternoon light.

Nonetheless, he enjoyed the way her fingers felt on his skin. It was one of the many things she taught him: using his sense of touch so much more.

Carefully he tightened his grip on her as he rolled the pair of them onto their sides to face one another. He brought his hand to her face and gently brushed his thumb across her lips and then traced his finger over her brow line, over the bridge of her nose, before settling his hand firmly against her cheek. “When’s your appointment?” He asked.

She sighed and shook her head. “Noon,” she mumbled. He gave her body a gentle squeeze as he held her.

“It’ll be alright, kitten.”

“I can’t teach if I can’t see,” she reminded him. “I’m sitting right in front of you, and I can hardly see you,” she whispered quietly.

He frowned and reached behind her for her glasses on the other little table beside his bed. He slid them into place, mindful to not catch her ear or pull too hard against her hair. He smiled at her. It made her stomach flip because Harry was by far the most beautiful person she had ever met. “I love your glasses,” he whispered. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I look like a librarian.”

“The sexiest librarian ’ve ever laid eyes on,” he promised and ignored her snort. “Not only do they help y’see, but they help me see. S’like they magnify your eyes. Swear I can see everything you’re hiding in that beautiful brain of yours,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to her forehead, right between the rim of the glasses hovering over her eyes.

“They look like coke bottles.”

He shook his head. “I think you’re gorgeous,” he promised and pulled them down slightly and pressed a kiss to each of her eyelids. Silently he hoped and prayed to whatever god was out there that her appointment would give her good news and make the ache in her mind and heart lessen just a bit. He didn’t care if she needed glasses by any means or if her eyesight got worse. None of that mattered to him at all. He just wanted her to be a little happier than she was before.

Over the past year, he had seen so many stages of her grief. He saw the anger she felt when she missed a step and dropped her food outside the restaurant causing a mess all over her shoes and the entry way. It made her eyes water as she asked the hostess if she could have some towels to clean it up so no one would slip on their way out. Harry helped her clean it up and even placed the quickest to go order ever made so she could have extra for lunch the following day and promised her it was no big deal that she spilled.

He watched her sadness as she couldn’t see things in plain sight—like the ever-hiding remote always evading her vision. Or when she accidentally put cinnamon in her pasta dish because she swore it was paprika.

The pain that puckered her eyebrows together all because her glasses and the screens at work bothered her so much.

Harry begged her so plainly to ask him for help. He had the phone pressed to his ear as he laid his head back against the sofa. Her voice made his stomach knot in the best way—she made him weak in the knees and the only thing he regretted about dating her was not doing it sooner. “I’ll bother you,” she whispered into the phone.

“Kitten, of course not.”

“If you’re hanging out with friends, and you need to come get me because it’s raining at night...and I can’t drive myself home?”

“Then I’ll say, ‘sorry lads, m’princess needs me.’ If they have a problem with that, s’on them,” he said simply with a shrug.

She released a quiet giggle despite how much she didn’t want to. “You’re much nicer to me than anyone I’ve ever known.”

◊

But she wasn’t always so down about it. Sometimes she had a really good sense of humor about it. Harry didn’t love it all that much though. It hurt him to hear her joke about something he knew in his heart hurt her quite a bit. But he was glad she could be in good spirits about it.

“Listen,” she said almost a month after their first kiss. “You’d be surprised how often someone says, ‘what are you blind?’ You’re just going to have to roll with it. It’s okay. I’ve heard it a lot and I say it to myself sometimes. I’ve been working on new comebacks but so far ‘legally, no; spiritually yes,’ is my favorite.”

Harry felt a wave of awkwardness wash over him, but she just continued to smile this gorgeous, bright smile that he had no choice but to let her make her joke.

And if he did say ‘What are you, blind?’ a few days later, well... at least she had warned him.

◊

Harry read to her sometimes. It made her feel like a little kid, but he didn’t dwell on it. He acted as if it was completely normal for a boyfriend to read out loud like a kindergarten teacher to his girlfriend. She snuggled up to him in his lap and glanced at the pages every so often as he held the book in front of them. She had to be careful though because Harry’s voice was so soothing and even though she loved to hear him talk, there had been many chapters she missed because he accidentally put her to sleep with his melodic voice.

◊

Sleeping together in the quiet parts of the night were some of his favorite times. Whether something more intimate happened between them or not. Night was when he felt most attuned to her. Harry couldn’t see any more than she could. Touching her, feeling the goosebumps he left in the wake of his fingertips against her skin made him much more aware of how touch could bring him to his knees for her. He also paid close attention to her near silent, soft whines of pleasure or how her laugh seemed so much brighter in the dark.

But listening to her speak at night might have been one of his most favorite things. “Why did y’leave me after that party?” He whispered. It bothered him a bit when they first started dating.

Her face was pressed to his chest, her finger moving over his face as it always did, this time focusing on the shape of his jaw, outlining the scruffy remnants of hair growth since he last shaved. “Why would you want to be with the near-blind girl?” She shrugged.

It took him no time at all to answer. “Cause she’s perfect.” She smiled and pressed a kiss almost touching the cross necklace that dangled between the sparrows on his chest.

She never asked him again if it mattered to him if she’d go totally blind. Not since she asked after their first kiss last November. He said it all right then at that moment. She believed him so easily because no, she hadn’t ever thought about it. There wasn’t a time when she thought that maybe she wouldn’t go blind. So, for Harry to believe it was possible was more than enough.

◊

Harry worried about her a lot more than most people did a lot of the time. More than her family who were so used to her poor sight it didn’t even phase them when she handed them the wrong cups or passed along the wrong items because they weren’t clear enough about where they were. More than strangers who would roll their eyes at her when she bumped into them on public transport.

But mostly herself because while she had been living with bad eyes for so long, it took Harry some getting used to the ins and outs of the harder things she had to do. One day they painted two canvases together, spinning them back and forth between them for five minutes creating fun little landscapes that didn’t make any sense. “Would y’ever want a seeing eye dog?” He asked. Harry was a terrible painter, but he’d do anything to spend time with her doing her favorite things. “Bet we could get you a really cute pup,” he smiled.

She smirked so cutely, and she wiped her hand across her forehead to get a piece of hair out of her eyes. In doing so, she painted a stripe of pink paint across her forehead, making his heart feel so jumpy with love for her. “Maybe if I went totally blind,” she shrugged. “Would need to find an apartment that allows a cute dog too,” she reminded him. As if a seeing-eye dog wasn’t an exception to most places.

◊

Loving one another didn’t come without some hardships either.

Once more she found herself bumping into someone. Harry had gone ahead to the car to get to her door and naturally the moment he left her side she was nearly falling flat on her bum. However, the person bumping into her was quick, caught her around the waist before she hit the ground. “Oh, easy love. You alright?”

“I’m so sorry,” she said quickly.

“Hardly your fault, love. Don’t be sorry,” he smirked. “S’easy to fall for me,” he winked at her.

She gaped in surprise. Harry wasn’t surprised in the slightest because she was by far the most adorable person on the planet let alone that street. “Excuse me,” Harry said flatly. Harry eyed the arm around her waist that didn’t belong to her or himself, and the man turned his attention to Harry.

“Oh, of course you’re taken...Someone as beautiful as you would have to be,” he released his grip from her. “Sorry, mate,” he said to Harry and then winked at the beautiful girl.

Harry grabbed her hand and marched quickly toward his car without so much as another glance in his direction. “Harry,” she whined as he tugged her. He wasn’t rough, exactly. She didn’t think it was possible for him to be rough with her even when he was grumpy. Her mind flashed to that very first day when he looked at her with so much annoyance for getting food all over his clothes and then separating him from his friends.

Harry often got so protective of her that it came across as overbearing and every so often, he couldn’t help but feel jealous when someone else helped her. She had done so much on her own for so long the idea that she didn’t need him or worse, needed someone else made him so utterly sad that he had a hard time expressing how upset it made him. “M’sorry,” he whispered.

“Sorry? Why?”

“Jus’...I get so sad when other people help you,” he frowned. She turned toward him in her seat. “Not because I don’t want them t’help you. But because...I jus’ like helping you. Makes me think y’don’t really need me,” he mumbled. “I know I wasn’t always...so outwardly nice t’you. Think I was a bit of a dick,” he said quietly. “Think it would make a lot of sense if y’found...someone that swept y’off your feet right away.”

She reached out and cupped the side of his face and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips briefly. “I need you, always. More than that...I want you,” she said softly. Harry felt like a lovesick teenager at her words. Wanting him really was so much better than needing him. Because she didn’t. She was wonderfully independent and had done so much on her own for so long, she really didn’t need him. But wanting him around? Harry loved her so much he wondered how he ever could have been without her. “So much it feels like I need you.”

He leaned forward to steal another kiss and she smiled, her glasses bumping his forehead a bit. “I love you,” he promised.

She smiled. “Would you like to know when I fell in love with you?” She asked.

He blinked at her response. “Well, sure,” he nodded.

“When you held my hand at the party and walked me to your room...it was like...I don’t know, I felt like a princess,” she told him. “You totally saved me. I had no plan. No escape. I just didn’t want to bother anyone.”

He smiled at the memory. “I loved sleeping with you,” he winked. She pushed him gently and shook her head. “No really, y’looked so cute in m’clothes. Wanted you t’stay in my bed forever.”

“I bet you did,” she mumbled.

“Ha-ha,” he rolled his eyes. “Never would have thought your cute mind would constantly sit in a gutter, kitten. Yes, of course I wanted that,” he grumbled making her laugh. “Really I jus’ wanted you.”

“You want me too?” She wrinkled her nose making her eyes crinkle at the corners and Harry turned fully to hold her face between his hands. He leaned in to brush his lips over hers like he did the first time he kissed her. She gave the same little whine she did. It went right through his heart.

“What gave it away?” He mumbled against her lips.

◊

“What if it’s hereditary?” She whispered in the dark.

Harry turned to face her even though he couldn’t see anything in the darkened room. He could feel her breath and the anxiety in her voice was so palpable he could feel her voice. “Then...who better to help them than you?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t wish this on the people that made fun of me,” she mumbled. “I can’t imagine a child like me,” she admitted quietly. “It was so hard.”

Harry frowned and inched closer to her. His nose bumped into hers, he brought his hand up to her cheek. What he said next, he meant whether he was part of the future or not. With everything in him, it was one of the truest things he ever told her. “I can’t think of a luckier child than one like you, m’love.”

◊

It wasn’t always about her eyes. There were pictures they took and vacations they enjoyed. He loved her family and how they made him feel like he was part of her holiday traditions. Gemma and his mum adored her and asked about her more than they asked about Harry.

She had the best jokes from books she read. Her art was beautiful and taking walks through the park with her were some of his favorite dates he’d ever been on.

It was five months in when he told her he loved her for the first time. “You are the most beautiful woman I know,” he said. She smiled at him with the lightest touch of pink painting her cheeks. She made him stop and proceeded to lie in the middle of the sidewalk to capture a picture of the sky between the branches of a tree on the unseasonably warm April day. Harry took his own picture of her doing just that. “See?” He asked, showing her the picture he took.

She looked at the picture momentarily and then back at him. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course, kitten,” he rolled his eyes. “Inside and out; the kindness and warmth you have inside you is probably jus’ a fraction of the beauty y’display outwardly for someone like me that falls in love with you every time y’smile,” he grabbed her hand continued walking down the street enjoying the spring air. She was quiet for the length of the road and when they stopped to wait for the light to change at the crosswalk, she looked up at him at her side.

“You’re in love with me?” She asked.

He blinked in surprise, feeling a bit tongue tied. He chuckled awkwardly as he glanced at her. “Uh...sorry... I should have waited...said that in the privacy of your apartment...or mine, or something. Not in the middle of a busy street.”

She smiled and shook her head at him. “I love you, too.”

The light changed and back again, but neither of them noticed because he was too busy kissing her while the crowd moved around them.

◊

Sometimes she got so angry and frustrated with herself that she would accidentally take it out on Harry. Like the time she didn’t see how close her fingers were to the knife and nicked herself good. Not enough to need stitches or even a trip to the minute clinic, but enough to make Harry ooh and ahh over her. “Angel,” he murmured after she ripped her hand away from him.

“Stop,” she sniffed. She wasn’t in pain—at least not from her little wound she inflicted upon herself. “Just stop.”

He frowned and pressed his lips together trying not to overwhelm her with his worry. In those moments, he stood waiting patiently. Eventually she would say sorry, and he would shake his head. “You don’t have t’apologize t’me ever, m’love...not ‘bout this.”

He knew this was hard for her. Every time she hurt herself or dropped something, it was a reminder that her eyes weren’t working the way they were supposed to. The last thing he wanted was her spiraling and worrying about what would come next.

But he wanted her to know that whatever it was, he would be right beside her. Seeing for her even if she couldn’t.

December | Holiday Break | Lunch time

She never let Harry go into her appointments with her. However, he made sure he was the first one to meet her at the door right outside the office because her eyes were almost always dilated. It amplified how difficult it was for her to see where she was going. After nearly bumping into someone as she exited, she apologized awkwardly. Almost instantly, Harry was there looping her arm through his elbow. “Hey beautiful,” he said kissing the top of her head. He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t ask about the appointment. He knew better. She would say something if needed.

He opened her car door, helping her into the seat and placed sunglasses over her eyes to protect her widened pupils. He kissed the space where her forehead met her hairline and closed her safely in the car. Once inside the car himself, he drove off, planning to get her more coffee because she hated these appointments and Harry wanted to treat her for being brave even when she didn’t want to be. She leaned against the window and didn’t speak. Harry placed a hand on her leg, and she wrapped her fingers around his. He gave her a squeeze and continued driving silently.

“They have a new... cutting edge surgery they want me to try,” she whispered to the window.

He squeezed her hand again, glanced long enough to see her contemplative reflection in the glass. “How d’you feel about that?” He asked.

“Nervous.”

He smiled weakly. He wished he could look at her, but he knew talking about it was easier when he wasn’t looking at her—even if she couldn’t fully see him. Harry ordered at the drive through and then continued driving to a little spot by a lake. It was still so chilly outside—even at the warmest part of the day. There was steam coming off the water from the warmth of the sun beating off it. She took a picture of it on her phone and Harry knew the look of concentration on her face was trying to figure out how to recreate the steam in a painting.

They were sitting on the hood of his car. It was still warm from the engine and Harry had a blanket laid over their laps. She leaned back against the windshield holding the coffee cup upright to keep her hands warm. Harry turned to his side to look at her. He brought his hand to push her hair away from her forehead and he traced along her hairline. “Do y’want surgery?”

She sighed. “I wanna be able to see.”

He smiled gently and gave her cheek a kiss. “Will it...get worse? If y’try it?”

She shook her head. “No more than the risk of a regular surgery. It won’t be perfect. I’d still need glasses. I’ll still have trouble seeing. But...I won’t go blind. It’ll either stop it from getting worse or it won’t work,” she shrugged.

“Sounds like you have nothing t’lose then, angel,” he murmured.

She was quiet for a second. “I trace your face so much because I worry, I’ll never see it again,” she whispered. Harry was speechless...all those times he asked her what she was doing... He never thought that was her reason. “I want it to be muscle memory,” she explained. “So... if my eyes...if I can’t see anymore...I hope I can sculpt it from memory,” she whispered.

That beautiful word ‘if’ made his heart so full of love for her.

But, by far that was the most...genuine thing anyone had ever said to him. “God, I wish I dated you so much earlier,” he mumbled and leaned down to kiss her as deeply as he could manage while the cold December air cooled her coffee down once more while he gently traced his tongue along her lower lip.

Her cheeks turned this beautiful shade of red that Harry loved so much. The sunglasses over her eyes hid so much from him. He meant every word earlier. He loved her glasses so much, if only allowing him to see deeper into her soul. “If...it works though...” she whispered after a minute of kissing. He didn’t say anything because he sensed there was more, and she swallowed hard. “I’m scared I won’t be me...I feel like my whole life has been put on hold because of my eyes. I don’t know if I know how to live without... thinking about them.”

“Then we’ll learn t’live without thinking ‘bout them,” he shrugged reaching for a piece of her hair and stroking it like a paint brush across her face. “You’re more than your eyes, kitten.”

Her heart felt so warm at his words. Harry always made the well-being of her eyes an effort for the two of them. It wasn’t a battle she faced alone. Harry was there the whole time encouraging her, helping her, keeping a literal eye on things for her when she couldn’t. It didn’t bother him when she cried about not seeing something. When she bumped into walls or doors, he never said anything other than to make sure she was alright. If she dropped something and made a mess, he simply helped her clean it up. Harry was her personal chauffeur, and he didn’t care at all.

“To be fair m’love, I would be driving y’around anyway because you’re a lady and I adore you and m’mum taught me t’hold car doors open for the women I adore. And I’d rather drive and keep y’safe... plus you’re a terrible driver even when y’can see. S’a danger to you, me, and everyone else on the road.”

“We wouldn’t...” she whispered quietly and shook her head, looking away from him.

“Wouldn’t what, m’love?” He murmured looking at her with a frown on his lips. Worry etched between his eyes.

“We wouldn’t...be in love...if it weren’t for the fact I can’t see,” she reminded him and turned to look back at his expectant face waiting for her to complete her thought. “I wouldn’t have spilled food on you. You wouldn’t have sat up front and asked if I couldn’t see. There wouldn’t have been writing notes for me or making sure I was okay at that party or at the pub...”

“Kitten, I learned t’read Braille for you. I don’t care if y’can see or not. I would do anything for you. I may have fallen for you because you couldn’t see but I don’t stay because of it. I stay because I adore you.”

“What?” She whispered breathlessly. She sat up fully while Harry stayed lying flat against the windshield. “You learned...you did what?”

He shrugged. “M’probably not very good at it. But I don’t know...thought if it came down to it, if it got worse and you were sad...I’d want t’help.”

Harry saw the tear slip down her cheek past her sunglasses. “Harry Styles,” she practically sighed. “You are...I don’t know...”

“The love of your life, maybe?” He smiled cutely and reached up to rub the tear from her cheek.

For the second time in her life, she had so much hope swelling in her heart. Harry, the cause of it once more. “And hopefully every life I’ve ever have and ever will live.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @tiredinwinter

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #screens

141 notes · View notes