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cyber-dump-171 · 26 days

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Chapter 4: Crewel & Crowley

Objection! Stand your ground! Marvelous! (Twisted Wonderland x Reader)

← Chapter 3 | Masterlist | Chapter 5 →

Word count: 4.5k.

WARNING: brief mentions of possible drug addiction and smuggling pills.

Note: this is more of a filler chapter, but, Heartslabyul's arc begins next chapter. Enjoy!

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The door opens with a rather loud creak, giving way to an empty office plunged in darkness, the only thing he can see is the mahogany desk illuminated by the silver moon and some pictures depicting the “Great Seven” slowly floating up and down a few meters above the floor.

If someone asked Crowley why his workspace is so austere, the crow would reply, "less is better". It's more professional, cleaner, makes a better impression, and can also be intimidating. But in reality, he rarely uses this space, preferring to work in the office of his subordinate and “close friend,” Divus Crewel.

His office is much more cozy than his, the reduced space and furniture-lined walls can be claustrophobic to some, but to him, it is just perfect. Besides, Crewel's taste in decor and color is trendy yet classy, and the crow man understands why the fashion enthusiast and scholarship science nerd ended up as the Pomefiore dorm leader during his high school years.

Originally, Crewel found it frustrating that the bird man was constantly swinging by to his workplace, already annoyed that he barely had any alone time during the day and then the flamboyant man was invading and working in his personal office.

It started with their papers and files getting mixed up, then Crowley left empty cups and plates strewn around his desk, and the breaking point was when he found the crow man’s mask and coat hanging from his office chair.

Crewel told him to get lost and use his own office.

Crowley offered to double his salary and extend his vacation days in exchange for using his office.

A deal was quickly struck.

And he'd be working there right now if he hadn't been so rudely kicked out by the potionology teacher. A little birdie (Sam) told Crewel that Crowley had placed the magicless kids in the health hazard that is the Ramshackle Dorm.

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Crowley's concentration is interrupted when the office door bursts open and Crewel steps in, his fluffy white and black coat nowhere in sight. His eyebrows are furrowed so tightly that they might melt together as he shouts angrily at the headmaster. “Explain to me why, in the name of the Great Seven, you thought it was okay to put these children in that house!?” his screams echo through the room.

“Good evening to you too, Divus,” the man in front of him sneers before slamming the door and walking over to the desk, hands on his hips. “Don’t ‘good evening’ me! Answer the damn question!” the crow man can already feel the headache coming on as his brain pounds at his friend's screams.

“Well, where else was I supposed to put them? I wouldn't let them just walk out of here, this world is very dangerous! You know I'm a very benevolent person,” he mutters the last part with a grin, proud of his actions. On the contrary, Crewel wants to gouge out the crow's beady little golden eyes and slap him across the face. “Benevolent!? Dire, just last week we were talking about tearing that thing down after the ceiling almost collapsed on Trein!”

Ah, he's on a first-name basis now, that’s not good.

“If you feel so bad for them, why don’t you house them, then?” Crowley proudly retorts, finally lifting his gaze from the paperwork, noticing his friend’s flat and unimpressed expression. “I live in a one-bedroom apartment. I’m not about to add three teenagers into the mix and force them to sleep in the sofa bed.”

That's a lie, it was actually a two-bedroom apartment, but he turned the other room into a walk-in closet with a huge mirror... What? He ran out of room for his clothes!

“What about your house? I know you have plenty of space,” Crewel crosses his arms, remembering last year's staff holiday party that Crowley begrudgingly hosted in his home after pulling the short stick from the pile. The crow man scoffs, offended by the idea. “There’s not enough space for the four of us there.”

“Dire, you live in a mansion!” “I value my space!” “And not mine!?”

Crewel sighs, throwing his head back exhausted from this pointless conversation. He fails to understand why his “friend” is so reluctant to give these kids a proper space to live. “Did you tell them that they can get food from the cafeteria? Or to use the gym showers?” Crowley quickly averts his gaze, shyly twiddling his fingers as he remembers the deal. “I… um… well…”

“Crowley,” the potionology teacher warns in a low tone and the crow man can feel the rage that emanates from the man, making him even more nervous to admit what now seems like a really bad idea. “I kinda… told them that… well, that they'd have to work for their food and clothing,” he watches in horror as Crewel goes slack-jawed, the color draining from his face as he processes the sentence. “But! Don’t worry, I’ll give them a good salary and plenty of time to rest!”

He says this as if it were a good solution.

“Child labor!? Crowley, we’re going to get sued!”

“They can’t sue us, they don’t have valid IDs!”

“Not them, the government, you moron!” Oh…

“Well, I'll just draft some contracts to cover our ass, we'll be fine, don’t worry!”

“They're minors, they can't sign them without their parent's permission!”

“One of them is 18! The blonde one... I think…”

“And the other two?”

“Well, if you're so worried about them, why don't you adopt them!?”

“Because, legally, they don't exist in this world! Also, I'm too young for children!”

“You're 32!”

“Shut up! You're older!”

Ah, this conversation is getting nowhere.

Crewel runs his fingers through his hair, completely ruining the hairstyle he spent a few good minutes on this morning. This is bad, terrible, even a disaster! Throughout the entire debacle of the entrance ceremony, he watched from the sidelines in pity as the faces of the three children fell in horror and shock when the mirror declared that their home didn't exist.

He can't imagine it… suddenly being ripped away from your world and thrown into a dimension where your only support system is two strangers close to your age and an idiot headmaster who can't even house you properly while forcing you to work. He gets it, it's expensive enough to maintain this school and repair the walls and hallways from other students' mischief, but...

For the sake of the Great Seven, he lives in a mansion and enjoys a good salary that's close to six figures, so he can spare a few thaumarks! Besides, Crowley can't even use the excuse of “crow-like nature” to take and keep shiny things. That is the behavior of a magpie!

Despite all the talk about "disrespectful puppies" and his desperate need to take a long break from his students, Crewel still loves and cares for them. And these three kids struck a chord with him, reminding him of his childhood.

It was also heartbreaking as he walked by the Ramshackle dormitory and watched the three students cover the lower half of their faces with their shirts as they shook the dust off the blankets and old pillows they were going to sleep on tonight.

The teacher turns to face the headmaster, who has taken his silence as an indication that the conversation is over, and returns to his paperwork, scribbling something unintelligible on the manila pages. Ugh, if only he could get out of his office to think of a solution... Wait a minute! That's it!

“All right, since you're so stubborn and selfish, you can't set foot in my office or talk to me until those kids are sleeping in a safe place and have proper food and clothing!” Crewel grabs the back of Crowley's coat, the crow man gasping in surprise as the teacher tucks the documents that were sprawled on the desk under his arm.

He was going to threaten to quit, but he needs this job. That set of platinum rings his favorite designer released the other day won't pay for itself.

“Wha- Divus, what in the world!?” the door of the office flies open as the headmaster is unceremoniously kicked out into the hallway, a heavy pile of papers shoved hard against his chest, causing him to momentarily lose his breath. “I said what I said... I'm changing the lock on my office as well. Goodbye now.”

As soon as the piece of wood is slammed shut, Crowley snaps out of his stupor and turns to the blocked entrance, papers falling to the floor as he loudly bangs his decorated fists on the door. “DIVUS, I'M SORRY! CAN WE PLEASE TALK!?” a muffled groan interrupts his tantrum, but the potionology teacher does not attempt to get up from his chair and reason with the crow.

Whining and yelling, the headmaster continues to demand entry and a calm conversation, the complete opposite of his current childish behavior. In his stupor, the crow man fails to notice another member of the staff rounding the corner of the antique hallway, the fluffy, chubby cat in his arms yawning sleepily as his golden eyes suddenly focus on the Headmaster.

And his owner gazes horrified at the scene.

“Crowley! What is the meaning of all this shouting!?” the booming voice of Mozus Trein echoes through the walls as the crow man turns to face the sound, his beady golden eyes widening in relief as he sprints towards the faculty member.

“Trein! Thank the Seven! Divus has gone mad! He kicked me out of my office!” before the older man can even process the scene unfolding in front of him, Crewel's angry voice intervenes from the other side. “It's MY office, Crowley. Yours is at the top of the building!”

“I thought you weren't talking to me!” he's being petty now, and he knows it, but he can't help it. “Yes, because you're making a ruckus and not respecting my boundaries! GO AWAY!” the two of them return to their pissy fight, Lucius, Trein's cat, ducks his head with an annoyed “meow” and covers his ears with his little paws.

“Enough of this display! You two should be ashamed of yourselves, you're grown men fighting like children. Imagine what would happen if a student saw you two like this. And answer my question, what caused this kerfuffle in the first place?” as Crowley opens his mouth to explain, Crewel cuts him off and sums up the situation in a matter of seconds.

The hall is filled with a palpable and tense silence as Trein's eyes narrow on the headmaster, who nervously shrinks his shoulders and twiddles his fingers. Man, he forgot how intimidating the old man really is, no wonder the students are deathly afraid of him. "Crowley, this is incredibly irresponsible of you," the crow man groans, slapping his face in frustration at the phrase that has become a mantra in the last few minutes.

"UGH! But what was I supposed to do?" he acts like a petulant child, his hands falling harshly to his sides in exasperation. From the other side of the door, Crewel coughs loudly and slips in a comment that irks Crowley to no end. "Don't put them in that dump." "Are you talking to me now!?"

“Quiet you two!” Trein interrupts again, holding his furry companion a bit tighter in his arms, a prominent vein adorning his forehead as he grows increasingly exhausted by his colleague and boss fighting like an old married couple.

"We'll deal with it tomorrow, but I agree with Crewel that it is dangerous to let them stay in that house. Either fix the building or move them to another one."

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And that’s how the crow man finds himself stuck working in the cold office, HIS cold office, a pout on his lips as he lays the crumpled documents on the desk. Fucking Crewel, why did he suddenly turn into a mother and defend those children so much!? None of them complained when he took them to the building, even that Yuuken kid seemed excited to meet the ghosts!

Ah, whatever, he’ll deal with that later. Right now, there's the more pressing matter of repairing the Ceremonial Hall after the fiasco caused by the blue flame monster and finding a replacement nurse since the other one is on maternity leave.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the dimly lit office as the headmaster quickly scribbles unintelligible words on a piece of paper. The antique clock hanging above the doorway ticks away the seconds, the hands nearing together at the top, signaling that it will soon be midnight. Outside, the commotion of students running amok as they finish their dorm welcoming parties is long gone, replaced by the singing of the owls and the howling of the cold wind.

The silence and stillness are shattered when Crowley's pointed ears perk up at the sound of hurried footsteps approaching his office. He groans softly as a pair of knuckles rap urgently against the old wooden door, the crow man pushing back his fatigue as a quiet "come in" falls from his lips.

The door opens slowly, a few seconds later a recently familiar head peers over the opening and Crowley recognizes the slightly familiar face. What was your name... "Ah, (Y/N), how may I be of assistance?" you take a few steps and stand awkwardly in the doorway, curious eyes scanning the room.

Crowley thought you were the most "normal" of the three non-magical students. Figaro creeped him out during the walk back to the dormitory, sharp eyes watching every move and pestering him with rather invasive questions. In contrast, Yuuken's reactions to the ghost made the crow man think of him as an endearing, if not bizarre, naive boy. At the entrance ceremony, he mostly took you as a panicked person attempting to maintain a level head while processing copious amounts of new information.

He can't blame you. If he were in your situation, he might go crazy, too. Let's hope you don't turn into a troublemaker, he already has enough headaches to deal with.

“Sorry for barging in so late, but can I steal a few minutes of your time?” how polite! My, after all the rudeness he experienced today your well-mannered question is more than welcomed! He extends a hand with a small smile and silently beckons you to come in and not wasting a single second, you hurriedly shut the door before walking over to the desk.

“I saw a student behave and carry something suspicious while exiting the infirmary,” ‘oh well, darling, if you stick around long enough, you’ll find out that everyone in this school is suspicious, but, do spill the beans,’ he thinks while nodding along at your sentence, before stopping abruptly as a puzzled look crosses his face.

“Infirmary? I swear that door is supposed to be locked,” he whispers under his breath, brows furrowed as he urges you to continue. You tell him everything that you witnessed during your late visit to the library: the student’s erratic and twitchy behavior, the mention of a “Master” and most disturbingly, the syringe with the mysterious liquid.

Crowley's chin rests flat on the back of his gloved hands, his elbows digging into the wooden surface as golden eyes stare off into the distance, processing the myriad thoughts floating through his mind. “Were you able to see who it was?” you give some of the details you managed to catch under the dim light but admit that you weren’t able to truly see who it was. The crow man simply nods, jotting down your words on a piece of paper.

An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of the headmaster's stomach. Originally, he thought you might have caught some students smuggling pills or antibiotics out of the infirmary, an unfortunate incident that has happened several times before, which is why the room is always locked when there isn't a nurse in it.

But this...

As if a switch had been turned on in his head, Crowley clumsily yet hastily searches through all the drawers of his desk before finding a rectangular device tucked away under some papers and trinkets. His phone. He unlocks it, his golden claw clacking harshly against the glass as he types out an urgent message to the faculty and dorm chat groups:

“ATTENTION: it’s been reported that a student has broken into the infirmary and was spotted carrying a syringe containing an unidentified liquid. The student has the following characteristics: approximately 175 cm tall, pale skin, black, dark purple or blue hair, and green or brown eyes. He was spotted exiting the room at around 11:55 p.m. wearing ceremonial robes.

It is mandatory for dorm leaders to search for this student and make a surprise inspection of each dorm room. You will be allowed to skip the first three periods of classes and have the option to have two other people assist you. Please report their names in this group chat to report them as excused from their responsibilities. If you find the person and/or object, report immediately to faculty.”

“Um, that’s all. I don’t know if you need me for anything else, so, I’ll go,” you’re about to scurry out of the cold office when Crowley calls out your name, asking you to wait. An idea crosses his panicked mind, and he knows that Crewel will definitely have his head for it, but with this incident and the lack of a nurse, he can’t leave the infirmary unoccupied. “(Y/N), how much do you know about medicine?”

The question catches you off guard, and your eyes widen momentarily in surprise before returning to their normal state as you contemplate his question. Crowley remembers your actions at the entrance ceremony when you cleaned the wound of the blond boy (whose name he doesn't remember, but the crow man associates it with a cat).

The small homemade first-aid kit you pulled from your bag tells him that you've at least had to constantly deal with treating wounds or that you're an over-prepared person. Either way, you would work.

"Well, I've taken several first aid courses and have basic medical knowledge," the headmaster half-listens to what you mutter under your breath, something about "university" and "medical school." Eh, he doesn't care to know about the details. "Great! You're hired! Instead of reporting to the courtyard, go straight to the infirmary tomorrow morning. I expect to see you there at 6 a.m. sharp!"

A stunned gasp escapes your lips as your eyes scan the headmaster, confused by the sentence you just heard and hoping inwardly that he was joking. Instead, Crowley simply tilts his head to the side, an innocent smile on his partially covered face as he decides that this is a wonderful idea. Why, this could be an experience for you!

“H-Hold on! Isn’t this the job of the nurse!? Also… what would happen if during my shift someone gets stabbed or comes in with a broken leg!? T-The bone poking out of the skin and everything!” the crow man momentarily grimaces at the mental image, but he quickly regains his composure as an evil thought crosses his mind.

“Do not fret! You’ll deal with superficial or minor injuries. If anything serious were to happen, just give Professor Crewel a call using the office’s phone! He'd be more than happy to help you!" Crowley exclaims as he rises from his desk, the velvety chair making a loud noise as its legs scrape against the floor.

With a grin that could rival that of the infamous Cheshire Cat, he jots down the potionology professor’s number on a ripped piece of paper before handing it to you. ‘That’s payback for the office!’ He saunters over to the entrance, completely ignoring your horrified expression as you stare holes at the paper in your hands.

“Ah! That reminds me…” his voice snaps you out of your detrimental thoughts, curious eyes turning around to watch as the headmaster opens the door. “I’m aware that your current situation is far from ideal. Therefore, until you are back on your feet, please use the showers in the gymnasium and your meals from the cafeteria," he proudly puffs out his chest as he watches your eyes light up and you nod excitedly, quietly thanking him.

“Also, feel free to take anything from the ‘lost and found’ box in the library. We have a policy that the items that remain there for more than three months can be taken by anyone. From my knowledge, the objects there have remained for more than five months,” he adds as you head out into the hallway, and Crowley can't help but feel proud of himself. “My, aren’t I so kind?”

He ignores your face as it shifts from one of gratitude to one of disgust, too busy enjoying his generous actions. “Uh, sure… t-thanks man,” his beady golden eyes follow your figure as it fades into the distance. When you disappear as you make a right turn, Crowley gently closes the door before sighing, fingers pinching his forehead as he feels the oncoming headache.

Alright, now, to deal with this situation.

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You take your time walking back to the dorm, admiring the starry sky with each step. Your head swims with different thoughts, fueled by your chronic insomnia, as you ponder once again where you are and what you have seen. A world where magic exists and where there are ghosts, flying broomsticks, monsters, and a bunch of crazy people.

If someone had told you the day before that you would end up in a magic school, living in a dormitory that would fall if you looked at it the wrong way, you would have laughed your ass off.

Fucking hilarious.

You yawn, hot crystalline tears clouding your eyes as you rub them vigorously. You groan as the cold wind kisses your skin and you feel more awake than tired, even though the exhaustion of everything you have experienced today weighs heavily on your bones and muscles. You feel restless, but not tired.

Frankly, you kind of hate your body.

The dead leaves and twigs crackle beneath your soles as you stuff your hands into your pockets, a morbidly familiar building creeps up from the horizon, but you watch in confusion as two pairs of lights move erratically in through the windows. Seconds later, Figaro and Yuuken almost kick down the front door as they emerge from the house, their hair disheveled and their eyes red as they sneeze and cough violently.

Your walk turns into a light jog as you approach the two men, the blond one letting out a sigh of relief when he sees you. It turns out that during your failed adventure to the library, the three ghosts of the house decided to play a prank on the Finnish man by ruffling the white sheets covering the nearby furniture in his bedroom, causing a huge cloud of dust to rise from the fabric and enter his nostrils.

On the other hand, Yuuken awoke to a tickling sensation on his hand, only to almost punch a hole in the nearby wall as a spider seemed to be happily walking on his appendage. Then part of his back began to itch and he panicked, thinking he had some kind of rash from the dirty blankets. However, when you pulled up his shirt to examine him, all you found were some red marks from his nails and, thankfully, no small bumps or any sort of physical ailment.

You, on the other hand, recounted the events and swore that the porch lit up with Figaro's excitement as you informed the two men of Crowley's offer. He even started bouncing on the balls of his feet at the mention of a free shower. But when the chatter dies down and the only sound is the song of the nocturnal animals, the three of you stare back at the intimidating building.

“I’m not going back in there,” Fígaro whispers in a scratchy voice, his eyes still watering from the sneeze attack. “Where else are we supposed to sleep though?” you retort, not too thrilled about the idea of going back to the house and laying your back against the stiff and dirty mattress. Yuuken is rather quiet, a thoughtful hand scratching his chin before an idea pops into his head, bright eyes turning to look at you both.

“Why don’t we sleep outside? It’ll be like camping, just without a tent,” you almost snort out loud at the sight of Figaro's face contorting into an expression of astonishment, eyes wide open as the blond man is rendered speechless. “Are you mad!? And what, get our eyes clawed out by some bizarre three-headed night creature!?” the Kendo student crosses his burly arms over his chest, quietly clicking his tongue in disapproval at the Finnish man's words.

“Is either this or you sleeping back inside that dust-infested room… Or you can also clean out another bedroom, but, Pembroke and I aren’t going to help you, we’re tired,” the booming voice of Yuuken echoes through the dilapidated porch, his intimidating side finally coming out to the moonlight. But, Fígaro doesn’t seem to back down, even though he’s quietly stunned for a few seconds. His body rapidly turns around to you, blue eyes scanning your face. “Please, tell me that you’re with me on this one.”

“Eh, I’m not. I’ve slept on the balcony of my house multiple times and nothing happened, so, Yuuken’s idea is fine by me,” you shrug, the blonde man gawking at your words. To be honest, you've slept in worse places and the idea of falling asleep under the stars doesn't bother you at all. “Dude, calm down. The most that will happen is that we’ll get some bug bites.”

You would have thought about it more if you'd been a little more awake, but all your rationality was thrown out the window as you suddenly felt more sleepy and tired. Finally.

And so, with two votes against one, you found yourselves lying on a thick blanket spread out on the dead grass, the branches of a nearby tree serving as your cover, at Fígaro's request. The whiny blonde is snuggled between you and Yuuken's back, having insisted on the spot because he was cold and “forced by both of you to participate in such an activity.”

The Kendo student didn't give a damn about his complaints, shushing him between sleepy yawns, too exhausted to argue with him about the stupid place in the makeshift bed. Meanwhile, you were more concerned about the fact that you'd only be able to sleep for a few hours before you had to go to work. Will you have enough energy?

You hope so. A good shower and a strong cup of coffee should give you a boost tomorrow morning.

As the blades of grass gently nudge your back, the three of you say a quiet good night. Your heavy eyes finally begin to close, the cold wind gently kissing your skin as the soft snores and tired breaths of your new roommates lull you into a deep sleep.

The three of you fail to hear the horrifying screams of Crewel and the booming laughter of Ashton Vargas, the gym teacher, as the two faculty members watch you sleep under the tree.

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Tag list:

@rotknox @agaygothicmushroom @sherryclover @mielle-estelar @yuriluvr2000 @Shironakuronatasa @yourlocalhot-simp @stvrbrighttt @tearsofgenshin @mewmew-dream @lehn2206 @coleisyn

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sophrosynesworld · 20 days

Text

Pinky Promise (Part 1)

Hero!Katsuki x Quirkless?Reader

War Arc Spoilers, Non-Cannon, Fluff

Katsuki has spent the better part of the year telling me stories about his friends—their wild adventures, their inside jokes—but this is my first time meeting them. Mina sits to my left, her pink hair bouncing as she excitedly tells a story about a prank gone wrong. On my right, Sero chimes in, interjecting at the funny moments with his own commentary. Their conversation swirls around me, lively and animated, but I struggle to keep up, feeling like an outsider in their effortless banter.

Katsuki sits across the room, squeezed between Kirishima and Todoroki. Kirishima’s laughter rings out, loud and carefree, while Todoroki’s quieter, more reserved comments punctuate the noise. It’s warm, so different from what I’m used to, and I can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by the easy camaraderie. I glance over at Katsuki, and for a brief second, our eyes meet. His usual sharp expression softens just for me, a quiet look that makes my heart flutter. He tilts his head toward the door, a silent invitation I understand instantly.

I smile and rise from the couch, excusing myself from Mina and Sero with a promise that I’ll be right back. They nod, hardly noticing my absence as their conversation continues without skipping a beat. I make my way to the door, feeling Katsuki’s gaze lingering on me.

The cool night air greets me as the door clicks shut, muffling the sounds of laughter and chatter behind me. I walk to the wooden railing and lean against it, letting my fingers brush over the smooth surface as I stare out into the darkening sky. Birds scatter above, flying away as if they sense something I can’t see.

The door creaks open behind me, and I hear Katsuki’s familiar, heavy footsteps approaching. I don’t turn around, but I feel his presence beside me, the faint scent of smoke and sugar drifting in the breeze.

“Are those idiots bothering you?” Katsuki asks, his voice low and rough, laced with that protective irritation that’s so typical of him.

I turn around, leaning my back against the post as I meet his eyes. “Your friends are nice,” I reply.

“I didn’t ask if they were nice.” He scoffs, eyes flicking away as he crosses his arms. “If they’re bothering you, I’ll handle it.”

I step closer, reaching out to grab his forearm, ducking into his line of sight. “They’re not bothering me, Katsuki. I promise.”

He frowns, studying me with concern. “Then why don’t you look happy?”

“It’s personal.”

Katsuki frowns. “Who’s messing with you?”

“Katsuki!” I exclaim. “No one’s messing with me. I’m just… scared.”

His brows knit together. “Scared? Of what?”

“I don't want to tell you.”

He looks away, exasperated. “I can't fix it unless you tell me what's wrong.”

I swallow, the words heavy in my throat. “I keep having this nightmare… you... um.. I keep watching you die.”

His posture stiffens, but his expression softens. “I’m not gonna die.”

“You don’t know that!” I shout, my voice breaking under the weight of my fears. “It’s always the same vision—pouring rain, and you’re falling from the sky. I watch you hit the ground every single time I close my eyes.”

Katsuki breathes deeply, trying to steady himself, before he reaches out, cupping my cheek with a touch that’s uncharacteristically gentle. “Listen to me. I’m the best hero at this damn school. I’m gonna win this war, kick that nerd Deku’s ass, and take you out for dinner—all in one night. Got it?”

I manage a small, shaky smile, but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Do you pinky promise?”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile fighting to break through. He links his pinky with mine, squeezing tight. “Yeah, I pinky promise.”

Author's Note: This will be a 2-part series, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next one!

#mha #my hero academia #mha x reader #fanfic #katsuki bakugo #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader

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mononijikayu · 3 months

Text

a red winter — ryomen sukuna.

The wind whispered through the cherry blossom trees, casting a delicate veil over the scene. Sukuna's heart, heavy with sorrow, echoed the mournful silence of the winter landscape. He had loved you more deeply than he could ever express, and now, in this moment of finality, he struggled to comprehend a world without your presence. He struggles to know what life truly is worth, if there is no you to give it meaning. He looks at you, defeated.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Miscarriage, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Miscarriage, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Pseudo-Incest, Adoptive Cousins, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language, Smut, Detailed Depiction of Sex, Depiction of Sexual Foreplay, Sexual Penetration, Consensual Sex;

masterlist

ashes of love

song: a red winter by ahn ye eun

ko-fi

note: i quickly wrote this knowing ill be gone for a while due to my exams. i would like to say that i apologize that this is what im leaving you with for a week or two. but truly, i hope you forgive me. in any case, two more chapters!!! thank you for your support for ashes of love. i hope you love this chapter and i'll see you in the next one!!! i love you <3

YOU FELT EXHAUSTED. In the following months, you found yourself embroiled in relentless clashes against the usurpers of your son’s rightful lordship—the formidable Zenin and Kamo clans. Each battle drained you further, the weight of responsibility and the constant struggle wearing down your spirit. Despite your children's repeated insistence on joining you in battle, their youthful determination remained unwavering. They wanted to avenge their clan, their name, their father.

However, you steadfastly refused, maintaining that a child should never be on the battlefield. Your son was just ten and seven, your daughter only shy of ten and two. You refused at each turn their determination to be in battle. And each time, the quarrels would tear you apart. But you would not let them win. Not at this moment. They were all you had. And you were damned that you would lose them too.

Your heart ached at the thought of their innocence being tarnished by the brutality of war, their futures jeopardized by the unpredictability of combat. You had just lost your husband. To lose your children would drive you to a place you did not want to think of. You met their fervent appeals with gentle yet firm insistence, seeking to shield them from the harsh realities of the front lines.

You bid them farewell with a heavy heart, watching as the columns of men marched solemnly away from the Ryomen lands, their faces set in grim determination. Each step they took seemed to echo with the weight of impending doom, a silent acknowledgment that many among them would not return from the battle ahead.

Turning to look at your children, you saw the stark contrast in their reactions. Your son stood tall and stoic, his jaw clenched with a resolve that mirrored your own. His refusal to meet your gaze spoke volumes of the burden he carried, the unspoken fear of losing his father and the weight of inheriting a legacy of honor and duty.

Beside him, your daughter hesitated, her eyes betraying a mixture of fear and uncertainty. She searched your face for reassurance, her lips parting as if to speak but faltering before any words could escape. In her youthful innocence, she struggled to comprehend the gravity of the moment, torn between wanting to be brave for her family and the overwhelming fear of the unknown.

You sighed heavily, the weight of your responsibilities pressing down upon you like an oppressive cloak. You took a moment to memorize the sight of your children, their features etched with worry and determination. In their eyes, you saw reflections of your own struggles, the sacrifices made in the name of duty and the relentless march towards an uncertain future.

With a deep breath, you were helped atop your own horse, the sturdy beast beneath you a steady anchor amidst the tumult of emotions swirling within. As you urged your mount forward to join the departing ranks, you spared one last glance at your children, their figures growing smaller in the distance.

In that fleeting moment, you prayed silently for their safety, for the strength to endure the trials ahead, and for the hope that one day, they would understand the sacrifices made in the name of honor and duty. With resolve renewed, you rode forth to meet your fate alongside your comrades, the echoes of farewell lingering in the air like a solemn promise of return.

Amidst the chaos of battle, you led your forces with a heavy heart, consumed by concern for their safety. The clash of steel and the agonized cries of comrades-in-arms created a grim backdrop to your inner turmoil. As the carnage unfolded around you, you clung steadfastly to the belief that their lives were precious and must be preserved at all costs.

Your relentless bloodhounds tore through anyone who crossed their path, driven by your command. Meanwhile, your white flames scorched enemies one after another, fueled by the intense energy coursing through your bleeding wrists. Despite a blow to your face causing you to stagger, your purple eyes blazed with determination as you knelt, the blood mixing with your cursed energy.

With a fierce resolve, a naginata materialized in your palm, and you lunged forward with primal aggression, unleashing a ferocious attack upon your foes. The battlefield echoed with the clash of weapons and the cries of the fallen, but amidst it all, your unwavering determination to protect your comrades burned as brightly as the flames you wielded.

As you fought with a savage intensity, each swing of your naginata cut through the air with deadly precision. The battlefield seemed to bend to your will, as if your determination alone could reshape the outcome of the conflict. Your allies fought alongside you, their trust in your leadership unwavering despite the odds stacked against them.

Blood and sweat mingled on your brow as you pressed forward, the weight of responsibility heavy upon your shoulders. The battlefield was chaotic, bodies strewn across the ground, both friend and foe alike. Yet, through the haze of battle, you remained focused, your senses attuned to every movement and threat.

Amidst the frenzy, a sense of clarity emerged—a resolute belief that this war, no matter how prolonged or brutal, would not break your spirit. Your heart pounded in rhythm with the pulse of the conflict, each beat a testament to your unwavering commitment to those who fought beside you.

After what seemed like an eternity, the clash of steel finally subsided, leaving behind a haunting silence punctuated only by the groans of the wounded and the crackle of distant fires. The battlefield lay strewn with bodies and broken weapons, a grim testament to the ferocity of the conflict.

You stood amidst the aftermath, your chest heaving with exertion, and your naginata still in hand, its blade gleaming with blood under the harsh glare of the sun. The adrenaline that had fueled your relentless assault now slowly ebbed, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness that threatened to overwhelm you.

Surveying the scene, you felt a mix of emotions—relief that the immediate threat had been neutralized, sorrow for the lives lost, and a grim determination to press forward. Your thoughts turned to your comrades-in-arms, the survivors who now looked to you for guidance and strength. They bore the scars of battle, both physical and emotional, but their resolve remained unbroken.

Slowly, you began to organize the aftermath—tending to the wounded, accounting for the fallen, and preparing for the next phase of the campaign. Despite the toll it took on your spirit, you knew there was no time for rest or reflection. The war raged on, its relentless tide pulling you deeper into its grasp with each passing day.

As dusk settled over the battlefield, casting long shadows over the scene of carnage, you found a quiet moment to reflect. The faces of those you had lost haunted your thoughts, their sacrifices blossoming red with the thunder of war. Yet, amidst the sorrow, there was also a glimmer of hope—a steadfast belief that your efforts were not in vain, that each battle brought you one step closer to an end.

With a weary sigh, you turned towards the horizon, where the first stars of evening began to twinkle in the darkening sky. The weight of responsibility sat heavy on your shoulders. You cannot quit now. You must continue. Even if this kills you. No matter what. You must continue. Whatever the costs.

The voice in your head laughed derisively, its mocking tone echoing in the recesses of your mind. "Foolish human," it sneered, "You cling to your frailty and stubborn pride. What honor is there in this futile struggle?"

You gritted your teeth, a surge of defiance rising within you. "There is honor in fighting for what is right," you retorted, your voice firm despite the tremors of doubt. "I would rather die in this struggle than any other way. At least here, I stand for something greater than myself."

The voice scoffed, its presence like a shadow looming over your thoughts. "Stubborn to the end," it taunted. "You will learn the futility of your resistance."

But you held fast to your convictions, refusing to let doubt cloud your resolve. "I will not yield," you declared, steeling yourself against the relentless assault of doubt and fear. "There is honor in the struggle, even if I do not emerge victorious."

As the voice faded into the background, its laughter turning hollow and distant, your lips pursed into a flat line. You sighed heavily, the weight of exhaustion settling deep within your bones as you leaned against the pillar of the wall. The ground around you was stained with blood, a stark reminder of the relentless cycle of battle that had defined your existence.

War had been your constant companion, an unyielding force that shaped every aspect of your life. It was a truth you had come to accept, yet one that weighed heavily on your heart. In moments like these, when the chaos subsided and the cries of conflict faded into silence, you allowed yourself a rare moment of reflection.

Gazing up at the sky, where a solitary heron glided gracefully against the canvas of deep blue, you couldn't help but yearn for something beyond the endless struggle. You wondered what it would be like to experience true freedom—to soar through the open skies without the burden of duty and battle pressing down upon you.

The heron's wings sliced through the air with effortless grace, a symbol of peace and serenity that felt so far removed from the harsh realities of your world. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to imagine a life untouched by war—a life where the sky was not a backdrop to conflict but a boundless expanse of possibility and tranquility.

But as quickly as the thought came, it was replaced by the harsh reality of your circumstances. The war demanded your unwavering commitment, your sacrifice, and your strength. There was no escape from the responsibilities that tethered you to this life of strife.

With a heavy heart, you pushed yourself away from the wall and resumed your vigilance. The heron continued its graceful flight, disappearing into the distance, leaving you with a lingering sense of longing. As you turned your gaze back to the battlefield ahead, you steeled yourself once more for the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that true freedom would have to wait for another time, another life.

When you had gotten up, you had been given news from the other fronts of the battle. Mikoto Masaomi, a loyal ally, managed to defeat the Kamo, effectively knocking them out of the war. This victory brought a brief respite, but the Zenin still posed a significant threat. Leading your forces against the Zenin, you fought fiercely, yet the battle ended in a stalemate. The toll of constant conflict was evident, both in your body and spirit.

In a surprising turn, Ryomen Sukuna appeared on the battlefield, his presence as formidable as ever. He swiftly killed the Zenin lord, forcing their surrender. True to his word, Sukuna did not come to see you. He honored your wishes, even though the distance between you brought a pang of sorrow.

With the Zenin subdued, only the Gojo usurpers remained. But the exhaustion was too great. The relentless battles had taken their toll, forcing you to postpone the campaign against the Gojo clan usurpers. Gojo Seiryuu, desperate to reclaim his rightful place, begged you to allow him to lead the charge.

Your return had been marred with his pondering. You could see your husband in him, through and through. His youthful fervor and determination were palpable, but you couldn’t bear the thought of him facing such danger. He was still a boy. And you didn’t want him to deal with this. Not yet. Not while you were still alive.

"Mother, please," Seiryuu implored, his voice filled with a mixture of desperation and resolve. "I need to do this. For our family, for our honor."

You shook your head, your heart heavy with worry. "No, my dear boy. You must understandI cannot risk losing you too. You are the future of our clan. We will find another way."

His cerulean eyes, filled with the fire of youth, met yours with unwavering determination. "I am ready, mother. I can do this. I am a grown man. I must avenge my father. Please.”

Despite your resolve, the fear of losing him gnawed at you. The battles had already claimed too much, and the thought of sending your son into such peril was unbearable. "You don’t understand, dearest boy. This war has taken everything from us. I can’t let it take you too."

He reached out, taking your hand in his. "Then let me fight for us. For my father. For everything we’ve lost."

Tears welled in your eyes, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. "I will not lose you, my boy. We will find another way. I promise."

As you stood there, facing your son’s determination, the voice in your head whispered again, mocking your fears and doubts. “No, my son. I am sorry.”

He stared at you, hurt and disappointment etched in the lines of his cerulean eyes. His jaw tightened visibly, a silent testament to the emotions roiling within him. For a brief moment, you searched for the right words, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap that had suddenly formed between you.

But before you could speak, he nodded slowly, the motion deliberate and final. The hurt in his eyes deepened, a silent reproach that cut deeper than any words could. Without another glance, he turned abruptly and walked away, leaving you standing there, words unspoken and regrets hanging heavy in the air.

You reached out, a futile gesture towards his retreating figure, wanting to call him back, to explain, to mend what had been broken. But the moment slipped through your fingers like sand, leaving you with nothing but the echo of his footsteps fading into the distance.

As you stood there, grappling with the weight of his disappointment and the ache of your own remorse, you realized the gravity of your actions. The hurt you had caused weighed heavily on your heart, a bitter reminder of the consequences of words left unsaid and moments lost forever.

Masaomi had come to you, his usually composed demeanor overshadowed by urgency and concern. He stood before you, his voice carrying the weight of conviction as he advocated fervently for your son, Seiryuu. His words were measured yet impassioned, highlighting the young boy's potential, his dedication to the Ryomen clan, and the responsibilities that awaited him as the bearer of the six eyes.

"Hiromi-sama," Masaomi began, his voice carrying a mixture of respect and urgency, "Seiryuu-sama believes he is ready. And I must agree. He has grown into a man, and not just any man, but the heir of the Ryomen clan and the Gojo lineage. How will others perceive his mother fighting on his behalf?"

His words hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. Masaomi's concern was palpable, his loyalty to both you and Seiryuu evident in every carefully chosen syllable. He stood before you, awaiting your response. But you don’t say anything. His lips pursed into a line.

"He has the potential to surpass even his predecessors, he already has." Masaomi continued, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes. "But he needs a chance to prove himself. And your voice of support, my lady, is most important.”

“He is still a boy.” You whisper to him, your eyes tender with pain. “I do not wish to see him killed, Masaomi. He is all that is left of my husband.”

"He may be a boy but he is a boy who wants to lessen your burdens and avenge his father," Masaomi explained, his voice steady yet impassioned. “He may be your son, but he is your equal now. You cannot deny him.”

You purse your lips as your maternal instincts battling against the tide of his words."He’s still so young, Masaomi. I cannot send him into such danger."

Masaomi’s gaze softened with understanding, yet remained resolute. "He is lord Gojo now, my lady. You cannot shield him from the world of danger forever. Not even if you tried. Do not make him resent you for taking away his only chance to bring peace to his father in himself.”

His words struck a chord within you. You knew he was right. As much as you wanted to protect Seiryuu, you couldn't keep him from his destiny. Tears welled in your eyes as you voiced your deepest fears. He was right, you knew he was. But you could not help yourself. You could not help but stumble into fear one after another.

"I'm terrified, Masaomi. Of losing him, of my weakening body, of death creeping closer."

Masaomi stepped closer, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions. "You shouldn’t speak that way." he said softly, his hand reaching out to clasp yours. “We shall win, as we always have.”

“I do not deserve your loyalty.” You muttered under your breath. “What would my father say? What would my uncle say?”

He shakes his head. “You have been more than what we could imagine, my lady. I doubt they will say anything but praise, my lady. You were their hope then, and you are our hope now.”

“You flatter me too easily.”

He shifts for a moment, giving you a soft smile. “It is all honest words, my lady.”

You sighed, your eyes shining brighter than before. “You must protect him. That is first and foremost your priority. You understand? Let him lead, but caution him, rein him in when he needs it. I cannot risk losing him too.”

Masaomi's expression softened with empathy as he listened to your whispered words. He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment of your grief and the weight of your fears. He could see a weight lift from your shoulders when you said those words, when you finally let it all go — to finally let them share your burdens.

"I understand, Hiromi-sama," Masaomi replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "Seiryuu-sama's safety and future are paramount to us all. But he is determined, and with your guidance, he will navigate these challenges with the wisdom and strength that you have instilled in him. As your father has done for you.”

You nodded slowly, the ache in your heart palpable as memories of your husband and the burden of leadership mingled in your thoughts. "Very well, Masaomi," you said, your voice steadying with resolve. "Prepare him, but tread cautiously. His path must be chosen wisely."

Masaomi bowed deeply once more, a silent promise in his eyes to uphold your wishes and protect Seiryuu to the best of his ability. As he turns to leave, you call him with a tender tone. He turns his back and looks towards you once more. Your eyes lower for a moment. You do that a lot when you think. When you ponder about what to do. He knew that look too well.

“What do you ask of me again, my lady?”

A sad smile touched your lips. "I have a favor to ask of you."

Without hesitation, he replied, "I’m willing to give everything of myself to you. I always have. You know that.” He stops himself for a moment, looking at you. “My body is yours, my heart is yours, my mind, my soul—everything has been long surrendered, my lady. All you have to do is ask of it and I shall give it.”

You knew he would say that and you knew that he would never deny you anything. You smiled at him, walking towards him. “Then do not deny me this.”

“I would not dare, my lady.”

The decision to marry Masaomi was not taken lightly; it was a strategic move born out of necessity rather than desire. In the tumultuous landscape of ongoing conflicts and shifting alliances, stability and continuity were paramount for the Ryomen clan's survival. As the leader, you bore the weight of ensuring a secure future not only for yourself but for your son, Seiryuu, and the entire clan.

Masaomi had proven himself time and again as a loyal and capable ally. His unwavering support and dedication to the Ryomen clan had earned your trust. Despite the initial surprise and speculation from outsiders, you knew that marrying Masaomi was the best decision to safeguard your son's inheritance and protect the clan's interests.

The news of your marriage spread swiftly through the supernatural community, sparking whispers and speculation. Some questioned the motives behind the union, while others admired your pragmatism in securing the clan's future amidst the chaos of war. For you, it was a sacrifice of personal desires for the greater good, a testament to your resilience and commitment to the Ryomen legacy.

It wasn’t enough that he was your loyal servant. Your son needed a father figure, someone who would protect and guide him with the same fierce devotion you had. Mikoto Masaomi had readily agreed to the marriage, his loyalty unwavering. He had given his life to serve you, and now, he would live to serve and protect your son.

As you stood together, facing the uncertain future, you felt a strange sense of peace. Masaomi’s unwavering presence was a balm to your soul, a reminder that you were not alone in this battle. He would be there, by your side, to face whatever came next.

"I appreciate your dedication, Masaomi," you replied softly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and resolve. "Seiryuu is everything to me. He's the last link to his father and our legacy. I trust you with his life as much as I trust you with mine."

Masaomi nodded solemnly, his expression unwavering. "I understand the weight of this responsibility, Hiromi-sama. I will not fail you or Seiryuu. You have my solemn vow."

A brief silence hung between you, filled with unspoken understanding and the weight of the decisions that had led to this moment. You knew the challenges ahead would be daunting, but with Masaomi by your side, you felt a flicker of hope that the Ryomen clan could endure against all odds.

In the midst of the escalating conflict, Masaomi had taken your son with him to quell the resistance from the allies of the usurpers. His mission extended to launching an offensive against the Gojo holdings to decisively eliminate the threat posed by the usurpers. Left behind in the safety of your chambers, you sighed heavily, exhaustion etched into every line of your face as you gently rubbed your swollen belly.

The news of your unexpected pregnancy had caught you off guard. Beyond your childbearing years at nearly forty-three, you had believed such a possibility to be remote, if not impossible. Yet here you were, carrying a child conceived against the odds. The strain on your body was undeniable; each passing day seemed to amplify the weariness that settled deep within your bones. With each movement, you felt the weight of your age and the physical toll of pregnancy, a reminder of the fragility of life even amidst the tumult of war.

And you feared the worst. Most women your age do not survive childbirth. Women even younger than you do not survive it either. There was no security.Even with your previous pregnancies, you have had a hard time. Masaomi had been horrified that such had happened, he had borne guilt over the matter but you had reassured him that you would be fine. He does not yet wish to leave for battle. Not until you had the babe. But you would not stall him. Not when this war longs to be finished and won.

As you sat in the quiet of your chamber, contemplating the risks and uncertainties that loomed ahead, Masaomi entered with a solemn expression, his worry palpable in the furrow of his brow. He approached you with a gentle but concerned gaze, his hands clasped tightly together in a display of internal conflict.

"Are you sure about this, my lady?" Masaomi's voice was soft, tinged with anxiety. "You know the dangers. We've lost so many, and I cannot bear the thought..."

You met his gaze with a calm resolve, though your own fears echoed silently within. "I know the risks, Masaomi. We've faced them before," you replied, your voice steady despite the weight of your words. "I've survived this before, and I believe I can do it again. Our child deserves a chance at life, just as much as we do."

Masaomi's eyes softened with affection and concern as he reached out to gently stroke your cheek. "You are strong, my lady," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "But it pains me to see you endure such hardships."

"It's a burden we both bear," you whispered, leaning into his touch. "But we must see this war through to its end. I won't hold you back."

He shook his head slightly, his expression conflicted. "I can't bear to leave you like this."

A small smile touched your lips, filled with reassurance and determination. "You must go, Masaomi. Our people need you," you urged gently. "We will face whatever comes together, as we always have."

Masaomi exhaled heavily, torn between duty and his desire to protect you. Finally, with a nod of reluctant acceptance, he straightened his posture. "I will stay until the child is born," he declared quietly, his resolve firm. "Then I will go, and we will end this war, once and for all."

“You must not.” You tell him, shaking your head. “Finish the war as soon as possible. There will be time to meet the babe after.”

“But my lady—”

“I shan’t change my mind.” You whisper back to him, your hand rubbing the center of your belly. “Your heir may wait.”

He will not win against you. Not a mere consort. He purses his lips. He slowly nodded. “Very well, my lady.”

“There is another I must leave to you,” You tell him. “Just in case.”

“What is it, my lady?”

"Should I die, Sukuna will try and lay claim to the Ryomen's power," you say, your voice steady but filled with resolve. "He has the name, the legitimacy equal to mine. None can stand against him."

Masaomi's eyes widen with shock. "But, my lady, to let the Ryomen name die... It's unthinkable. The Mikoto were a lowly house. To supersede the Ryomen...”

You cut him off, your tone firm. "It does not matter. My children will understand my will, and so must you. This is the only way to ensure their safety and the future of our clan."

Masaomi's expression is conflicted. "But, my lady, the burden... It is too great. The legacy of the Ryomen cannot simply be passed on like a mere title."

You meet his gaze, unyielding. "I leave you with the duty of caring for the clan. It is better that way because you are the one I trust the most."

He shakes his head, still grappling with your decision. "My lady, this is too much. The Mikoto name... it cannot bear the weight of the Ryomen legacy."

A sad smile touches your lips. "It must. For the sake of my children, and for the future of our people. You are strong, Masaomi. You will carry this burden and protect them."

Masaomi's eyes glisten with unshed tears. "I... I will do as you wish, my lady. But I pray that you live long enough to see your children grow, to see this burden through yourself."

You nod, feeling the weight of his words and the sincerity behind them. "Thank you, Masaomi. I know you will do everything in your power to honor my wishes."

With a heavy heart, Masaomi bows his head. "I will, my lady. I promise you that."

As he leaves, you feel a sense of relief mixed with sorrow. He turns his head back and makes his way towards you. You shrugged, taking a moment to look at him. He lowers his eyes and turns to your belly. His hand touches the babe, letting himself feel the movement of the little one—as though he’s burning it into memory. Seiryuu turns from his horse as he watches you and his stepfather have a moment. He bows his head to you and rushes forward, commanding the men. Your husband sighs, taking his hand off.

“Will you not change your mind?”

“No, I will not.” You tell him once again, smile on your face. “The past must die with me. And be born with this little one, a new world.”

“You should not say such things so easily, my lady.”

“You do not know what will happen. It is better to be prepared.”

"My lady, this is too great a burden for Mikoto. To bear such a name, to carry on such a legacy—"

You shake your head, cutting him off. "No more, Masaomi. I do not wish to hear any more. You have to leave soon for the campaign against the Gojo usurpers. This is my will, and you must honor it."

Reluctantly, he nods, understanding the gravity of your decision. "When I return, we shall continue this conversation."

A faint smile tugs at your lips. "Perhaps."

As Masaomi prepares to depart, you feel a mixture of relief and sorrow. The burden of leadership weighs heavily on your shoulders, but you find solace in the knowledge that Masaomi will carry on your legacy and protect your children. You watched until they disappeared into the distance. You felt your child kick your belly. You sighed, rubbing the spot so tenderly against your layers of silk.

“You will have quite the future.” You whispered to your babe.

You can only pray to the gods that you are right this time.

Even if you would not be a part of it for much too long.

YOU SCREAM AND SCREAM. In the stillness of that fateful night in 973, the plans of the Gojo usurpers unfolded like a dark shadow cast over the impending dawn of victory. The air was thick with tension, the flickering torches casting eerie glows on the faces of the conspirators as they huddled in clandestine meetings, their voices hushed but urgent.

The Gojo usurpers, their ambitions threatened by the advancing forces of Gojo loyalists, the Mikoto warriors, and the steadfast Ryomen allies, knew that their only chance lay in a desperate gambit. The decision was made with grim resolve—to strike directly at the heart of their adversaries' strength.

Their target was clear: you, the matriarch of the Gojo clan, and Masako, your daughter, the symbol of the clan's future. By eliminating you and seizing Masako, they aimed to cripple the Gojo's leadership and secure their own claims through blood ties. The marriage of Masako to one of their sons would not only validate their rule but also ensure a fragile semblance of legitimacy amidst the chaos of war.

Under the cover of darkness, their forces mobilized with stealth and determination. Armed with the cold resolve of desperate men facing inevitable defeat, they moved swiftly towards Hida, where you resided, unaware of the imminent danger that lurked just beyond the horizon.

The night echoed with the distant sounds of marching armies, the clinking of armor, and the whispered orders of commanders. Each footfall carried with it the weight of treachery and ambition, as the usurpers plotted to reshape the fate of the Gojo clan in a single, decisive strike.

As dawn approached, the air was heavy with anticipation and dread. The clash of loyalties and ambitions hung like a storm cloud over Hida, where the fate of generations would soon be decided amidst the chaos and uncertainty of war.

In the tumultuous darkness of that pivotal night, your body, already weakened by age and the strain of conflict, began to betray you. The onset of labor pains, sharp and unrelenting, signaled the beginning of a battle within yourself—one that mirrored the external turmoil besieging Hida.

Surrounded by the distant clamor of warfare and the urgent incantations of sorcerers, you endured the excruciating waves of pain with a resolve born of necessity. The severity of your condition was undeniable, the bleeding relentless, yet your determination to bring life into the world burned fiercer than ever.

Amidst the chaos of battle encroaching upon Hida's walls, you gritted your teeth and pushed with all the strength you could muster. Each agonizing moment underscored the fragility of life amidst the brutality of war. The fear of failure, of succumbing to the machinations of the usurpers, spurred you on, driving you to defy the darkness that threatened to consume everything you held dear.

With each contraction, each cry of anguish mingling with the clash of swords and the roar of flames, you fought. And finally, in a breathless moment that seemed to suspend time itself, your efforts bore fruit—a daughter, fragile and yet a testament to resilience, was born into the chaos of that fateful night.

As you cradled the newborn in your arms, the weight of exhaustion and relief washed over you. The cries of battle continued outside, a stark reminder of the world awaiting her beyond the sanctity of your embrace. Yet, in that fleeting moment, amidst the turmoil and uncertainty, there existed a fragile hope—a new life to protect, to nurture, and to defend against the tumultuous currents of fate.

With your newborn daughter nestled against your chest, the world around you seemed to quiet, if only for a fleeting moment. Despite the relentless siege on Hida and the precariousness of your own health, a sense of profound peace settled within you as you gazed upon the fragile life you had brought into the world.

Outside, the battle raged on, its intensity echoing through the walls of the fortress. Sorcerers and warriors continued to fend off the relentless assault of the usurpers, their efforts a stark contrast to the fragile serenity within the birthing chamber.

Amidst the chaos, you felt a surge of gratitude for the loyal defenders risking their lives to safeguard your family and your home. Their unwavering commitment bolstered your resolve, reminding you of the stakes of this conflict—a battle not only for territory but for the very future of your lineage.

As you cradled your daughter, her small features a delicate reflection of hope amid adversity, thoughts of Masako and Seiryuu weighed heavily on your mind. They were out there, fighting not only for victory but for her future—a future shaped by the outcome of this night's struggle.

Despite the pain and exhaustion, a sense of determination coursed through you. You knew the battle was far from over. The usurpers' desperation had made them ruthless, but it had also exposed their vulnerabilities. This night would mark a turning point, one where courage and sacrifice would forge a path forward for your family and your people.

In the flickering light of torches and the distant glow of fires, you whispered promises to your newborn daughter, vows of protection and love that transcended the turmoil surrounding you. With each gentle stroke of your hand against her soft cheek, you silently vowed to defy the darkness that threatened to engulf your world.

With trembling hands, the weight of your newborn daughter felt both fragile and heavy against your chest. The urgent cries from outside the birthing chamber reminded you of the perilous situation unfolding around Hida. Each echo of battle brought a stark reality to your decision—a decision born of necessity and love.

Your most trusted servant, a woman whose loyalty and dedication had been unwavering through years of service, stepped forward with solemn reverence. Her eyes, usually steady and determined, reflected the gravity of your command. She understood the weight of your words, the urgency conveyed in your trembling voice.

"Milady," she murmured softly, her voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of chaos. "I will protect them with my life."

As you placed your daughter into her waiting arms, a surge of conflicting emotions washed over you—fear for their safety, relief at their imminent departure from the besieged fortress, and an overwhelming sense of maternal instinct driving you to ensure their survival.

The newborn daughter, swaddled in soft fabrics, stirred slightly in response to the change in environment, unaware of the danger that surrounded her. Her innocent presence contrasted sharply with the turmoil outside, a poignant reminder of the fragile balance between life and death in times of war.

With a final glance, you entrusted not just your daughter, but the future of your lineage, into the hands of your loyal servant. Her resolute expression mirrored your own determination, a shared understanding of the sacrifices demanded by duty and love.

"Go," you whispered again, your voice steadier this time despite the lingering ache of separation. "Protect them."

As she turned to leave, your gaze followed her retreating figure until she disappeared into the shadows of the fortress corridors. The weight of your decision settled heavily upon your shoulders, a burden borne out of necessity to ensure survival. They must outlive you. They must go on and live. As long as they were alive, you will be too.

As the chaos of battle drew nearer, the urgent shouts and clashes of swords reverberated through the walls of Hida fortress. Sorcerers and warriors fought fiercely, their spells and blades flashing in desperate attempts to fend off the relentless onslaught of the Gojo usurpers. The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the metallic tang of blood, a stark reminder of the brutal reality of war.

Despite the turmoil outside, you lay back in the dimly lit chamber, your strength waning but your resolve unwavering. Every labored breath carried the weight of exhaustion and pain, yet amidst the physical torment, your thoughts were consumed by the safety of your daughters. With each passing moment, the sounds of battle seemed to grow louder, a grim testament to the escalating violence that threatened to engulf everything you held dear.

The loyal servant hurriedly gathered Masako, your eldest daughter, and the newborn infant, her movements swift and determined in the face of imminent danger. The newborn's soft cries mingled with the chaos outside, a fragile testament to new life amidst the brutality of conflict. As the servant prepared to depart with your precious daughters, you knew that this moment marked a pivotal sacrifice—an act of maternal love that demanded separation to ensure their survival.

With a final, tender glance at Masako and the newborn, the servant disappeared into the darkness of the fortress corridors, her figure silhouetted against the flickering torchlight. In that fleeting moment, you whispered a prayer, a fervent plea to whatever powers might listen, that they would find safety beyond the walls of Hida.

Alone in the dim chamber, surrounded by the echoes of battle and the fading light, you closed your eyes, your heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty. Despite the weariness that threatened to overtake you, a flicker of hope burned bright—a fragile ember of belief that your sacrifices would not be in vain. With every ounce of strength, you clung to the belief that the combined forces of Gojo loyalists, the Mikoto, and the Ryomen would prevail, ensuring a future where peace and justice could once again reign.

In the quiet solitude of the birthing chamber, amidst the turmoil of war, you surrendered to exhaustion, your mind drifting between the realms of consciousness and dreams. With each passing moment, you held onto the hope that your daughters would find refuge, that they would grow to see a world where their mother's sacrifice had secured their future.

You let the tears pour from your face freely.

You made your peace with life and death.

You slowly sat up from the childbed and sighed.

“There must be an end, there must be.”

YOU COULD FEEL YOUR BODY TEAR ITSELF APART. Amidst the chaos of battle, blood seeped from your body in a steady, unnerving flow as you navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the Ryomen Manor. Each step was a struggle against the onslaught of childbirth, tearing through you with relentless force. The pain was an unyielding companion, a relentless torrent that threatened to consume every ounce of strength you possessed.

Blades clashed and cursed energies crackled around you, a symphony of violence that echoed through the once serene halls. Each encounter reverberated with desperate cries and anguished screams, the sound of battle and suffering intertwined in a cacophony that filled the air. Fear, raw and palpable, hung heavy like a shroud, mingling with the acrid scent of smoke and the coppery taste of blood.

In the midst of it all, your senses heightened to a fever pitch. Every sensation—fear, pain, anger, grief—merged into a maelstrom of emotions that threatened to overwhelm. Even as your own body numbed from the relentless onslaught, you remained keenly aware of the turmoil around you. The urgency to escape, to ensure the safety of your newborn daughter and Masako, drove you forward despite the physical agony and the impending danger that lurked around every corner.

The world beyond the inner chambers of the manor beckoned—a world where hope for survival flickered like a fragile flame in the storm of battle. With each faltering step, you pressed onward, your determination fuelled by a mother's instinct to protect her children at any cost. Every heartbeat, every labored breath, a surge of blossoming climax to war’s games.

At any moment, you were sure that your body would collapse. But that did not matter. You looked to the blood blow you. Your eyes fluttered, trying to keep awake. This would be enough. Enough blood. You stand in position, as straight as you possibly could and raise your hands near you. You took a deep breath as your hands spread out in front, with thumb and index finger touching.

“The seal of the ring of the Sun, Moon, and Earth.” You muttered under your breath as your body surges with cursed energy. “The gates of heaven, the battles of Bishamon, the naginata to blow….domain expansion! Heavenly Subjugation!”

As you uttered the incantation, the air crackled with tension, charged with the intensity of ancient powers coursing through your veins. The seal of the Sun, Moon, and Earth manifested upon your flesh, glowing with a primal energy that seemed to draw upon the very essence of celestial forces. Cursed energy surged within you, intertwining with your resolve to protect what remained of the Ryomen lands.

Above, the sky twisted and darkened, clouds swirling in ominous patterns that mirrored the chaos unleashed below. Stars twinkled with an otherworldly brilliance, aligning in intricate constellations that seemed to dictate the course of fate. The earth itself trembled beneath your feet, a testament to the raw power now at your command.

With a deep, steadying breath, you felt the blood flowing from your wounds mingle with the cursed energy, forming a potent symbol of your determination and sacrifice. The land itself responded to your call, the whole of Ryomen's domain pulsating with the echoes of ancient battles and celestial subjugation.

As you invoked the Heavenly Subjugation, time itself seemed to warp and bend. The world around you froze in suspended animation, caught within the unyielding grasp of your domain expansion. Minds trapped within the frozen tableau of reality, repeating in an endless loop, their actions and intentions ensnared by the unrelenting power you wielded.

Through gritted teeth, you focused every fiber of your being on maintaining the domain. The weight of centuries-old grievances, the sorrow of loss, and the fierce determination to protect your legacy propelled you forward. Each moment stretched into eternity, every heartbeat synchronized with the ebb and flow of celestial forces harnessed through your will.

Ryomen Sukuna arrived soon enough. You did not know how he knew, but he could feel you—your cursed energy spreading through Hida, mayhaps even beyond. The scent, the tension, the force of it was unmistakable to him. His eyes grew wide as he took in the scene before him: your Domain Expansion, Heavenly Subjugation, where darkness swallowed the world.

You stood in the courtyard of the Ryomen manor, bleeding from childbirth, your eyes slowly losing their light even as your stance remained resolute. You were altering reality as you spoke, creating a time loop illusion to protect those you loved. Sukuna knew that you had to keep yourself alive long enough to sustain the loop.

Breathing heavily, you barely registered Sukuna's approach. "Stop,stop it now!" he commanded, his voice filled with a rare note of desperation. "End it. The more you continue, the closer you are to death. Hiromi!”

You looked down at the blood pooling at your feet, from the birth of your child. Determination filled your bright purple eyes as you began to chant once more, releasing more cursed energy. It mixed with your blood as you invoked, "Heaven’s Blossom."

Brutally misfigured, cursed spirits emerged from the pool of blood, their forms twisted and horrific. Each spirit bore the mark of their origin—born from your blood, infused with the dark energies that coursed through your veins. Their emergence was heralded by a guttural, otherworldly howl that echoed through the chamber, chilling the very air.

The spirits wasted no time in manifesting their malevolent intent. With a relentless fury, one of them lunged at Sukuna, the King of Curses, a primal force of chaos and destruction. Sukuna met the attack with a snarl of defiance, his movements fluid and deadly as he defended himself against the spectral assailant. The clash between the ancient curse and the vengeful spirit was a symphony of violence, each strike reverberating with primal power.

Meanwhile, the other cursed spirits moved with eerie precision, their ghastly forms gliding across the chamber floor towards their intended targets. With merciless efficiency, they descended upon their victims, their talons and fangs tearing through flesh and bone with grotesque ease. The more blood that flowed, the more the creatures seemed to grow in strength and ferocity, their unearthly hunger driving them to greater acts of carnage.

Amidst the chaos, another spirit joined the fray against Sukuna, its spectral form shimmering with malevolent energy. The King of Curses found himself beset on all sides, forced to fend off multiple adversaries while striving to reach you, their creator and the source of their dark genesis.

The chamber became a battleground of primal forces, a maelstrom of violence and supernatural prowess. The air crackled with dark energy, the stench of blood and death hanging heavy as the cursed spirits unleashed their unholy wrath upon all who dared to stand in their path.

Through the haze of battle, you struggled to maintain control, your bleeding wrists pulsing with cursed energy that fueled the relentless assault of your creations. Every movement was a calculated dance of survival and domination, your willpower tested against the insatiable hunger of the spirits you had unleashed upon the world.

As Sukuna fought tooth and nail to break through the onslaught and reach you, the chamber trembled with the intensity of the conflict. Each blow struck resonated with the weight of destiny, the outcome of the struggle poised on a knife's edge between triumph and oblivion.

"Stop this madness!" he shouted, slashing through one of the cursed spirits with a fierce swipe. But your resolve did not waver. You knew that this was the only way to ensure the safety of your children. “Night flower, please—”

You did not listen. The cursed spirits, borne of your blood and unleashed with relentless fury, swarmed the courtyard like vengeful specters. Their twisted forms twisted and tore through the ranks of the Gojo usurpers and their allies, leaving a trail of carnage in their wake. The air reverberated with the chilling echoes of their unearthly howls, a grim symphony to accompany the onslaught of death and destruction.

But Sukuna, the King of Curses, would not yield to such malevolent forces unchallenged. With ferocious determination, he met the spirits head-on, his movements fluid and deadly as he tore through them one by one. Each strike of his monstrous strength was a testament to his primal power, his wrathful gaze fixed upon you amidst the chaos.

The courtyard became a battleground, a grisly tableau of blood and death as Sukuna's relentless onslaught turned the tide of battle. The cursed spirits, once formidable in their malevolence, fell before his fury, their ethereal forms dissipating into nothingness with each devastating blow. Yet, despite the carnage surrounding him, Sukuna's focus remained singular—on reaching you, the source of this dark and chaotic magic.

As the last of the cursed spirits fell to Sukuna's relentless assault, the courtyard fell eerily silent, save for the ragged breaths and the lingering echoes of battle. The ground beneath your feet was stained with the blood of fallen enemies, mingling with the earth in a grim testament to the cost of war.

In the aftermath, Sukuna's eyes, filled with a mixture of relief and anger, locked onto you. His powerful presence approached swiftly, the intensity of his gaze piercing through the aftermath of chaos. Despite the victory, the tension in his demeanor was palpable, a storm of conflicting emotions swirling within him.

He reached you in swift strides, his footsteps echoing in the quietude that followed the storm. The King of Curses stood before you, his towering form a stark contrast against the backdrop of devastation. His expression, a mask of emotions ranging from fury to concern, betrayed the depth of his turmoil. It was like then all over again, you think to yourself. When he was a boy.

"You fool. You stupid, stupid fool." Sukuna growled, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through the courtyard. "How could you do this? You knew from the very beginning that you could—”

You met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and remorse, the weight of your decisions heavy upon your shoulders. "I had to. you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. "There was no other choice."

Sukuna's eyes narrowed, his anger palpable as he regarded you with an intensity that bordered on fury. "There is always a choice, you know that." he countered, his voice a dangerous whisper. "But you chose darkness. This stupidity.”

“As you did.” You smiled at him wearily.

"You did it," he said, his voice breaking. "But at what cost?"

You swayed on your feet, the toll of the fight and childbirth overwhelming you. "The cost was necessary," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "My children are safe."

As your domain shattered around you, the immense strain and the toll of wielding such dark power became unbearable. Gasping for breath, you felt every fiber of your being scream with exhaustion, threatening to give way beneath the weight of your own formidable abilities.

Sukuna's voice echoed faintly in the distance, calling out your name with urgency and concern. The once-imposing battlefield around you now seemed distant and surreal, a stark contrast to the harsh reality of your body failing you. With each labored breath, the air burned in your lungs, and you struggled to remain conscious as the ground rushed up to meet you.

The bitter cold of winter snowflakes began to drift down from the leaden sky, settling softly upon your face and hands. The serene descent of snowflakes painted a stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded, a haunting reminder of the fleeting beauty and harsh reality of life.

Sukuna's strong arms enveloped you, pulling you close with a mix of desperation and tenderness. His gaze bore into yours, filled with a sudden panic that mirrored the intensity of your own struggle. He could see life slipping away from you, and his heart clenched with a fierce protectiveness born of deep and unexpected emotion.

"Calm down," Sukuna urged, his voice thick with emotion as he cradled your weakening form. "Stay with me."

You tried to respond, but each attempt was met with a painful cough, blood staining your lips and throat. The metallic taste of iron lingered, a cruel reminder of the toll exacted by your relentless pursuit of power and protection.

"I'm sorry," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible amidst the biting wind and the soft patte of falling snow. "I didn't mean..."

Sukuna's expression softened, his features etched with a profound sorrow that cut deeper than any blade. He pressed his forehead against yours, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the biting cold that threatened to claim you. His fingers brushed gently over your cheek, as if trying to imprint your presence into his memory forever.

"Don't speak," Sukuna murmured, his voice a mixture of anguish and fierce determination. "You'll make it through this. I won't let you go."

But even as he spoke, you felt the world slipping further away, the edges of your vision blurring into darkness. Each breath became a struggle, a battle against the inevitable pull of unconsciousness and the chill of approaching death.

As the snow continued to fall, softening the harsh outlines of the world around you, you closed your eyes. The weight of your decisions and the burden of your power finally relinquished, replaced by a quiet acceptance. An acceptance that he does not accept.

In Ryomen Sukuna's embrace, surrounded by the gentle embrace of winter's embrace, you surrendered to the inevitable passage of time. Your breathing slowed, the rhythm of your heartbeat fading into the stillness of a world forever changed. You let it all be, surrendering to the echoes of the cycle.

He tries to shake you, his voice urgent and filled with desperation. "Keep your eyes open for me. I can find someone to heal you."

You shake your head weakly at him, a sad smile touching your lips. "I knew it would end this way." you whisper to him with a soft tone. “From the beginning….”

Sukuna's red four eyes are wide with fear and sorrow as he clutches you tighter. "No, no," he swears, his voice breaking. "I will heal you. I will take care of you."

You reach up and touch his face gently. "I'm exhausted, Sukuna. It's time."

Tears brim in his eyes as he pleads, "Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me."

Your vision begins to blur, but you manage to smile at him one last time. "I have to leave. People always must."

“You are not people. You’re…you’re….”

You take his hand and kiss it softly, feeling the warmth of his skin for the last time. "I loved you the most in this life, but I hope in the next, I would not."

As you slowly drift away in his arms, the world around you becomes a distant blur. Sukuna's anguished cries echo in your fading consciousness, a haunting melody of love and loss. His grip tightens, as if he could tether your soul to this mortal realm, but even he, with all his formidable power, cannot halt the inevitable.

The winter snow falls softly, blanketing the world in a cold, quiet stillness. Sukuna's breath fogs in the air as he holds you, his tears mingling with the snowflakes that settle on your skin. His voice, once so commanding and fierce, is now a broken whisper.

"I won't let you go," he murmurs, his tone laced with a desperation born of centuries of solitude. "I won't...Not now. Not ever.”

Your hand, resting gently against his face, falls limply to your side. The warmth of your touch fades, and the light in your eyes dims until it is no more. The final breath escapes your lips, a soft sigh that carries your spirit away from the realm of the living.

Sukuna holds you close, his body trembling with the weight of his grief. The courtyard, once a battlefield, is now silent, save for the soft whisper of the falling snow. He remains there, cradling you in his arms, the world around him a stark contrast to the turmoil within his heart.

Hours pass, and the first light of dawn begins to break through the darkness. The sky blushes with the hues of sunrise, painting the scene with a fragile beauty. But Sukuna is oblivious to it all. His world has shattered, and no amount of time can mend the pieces of his broken heart.

Amidst the crimson-stained snow, Ryomen Hiromi, esteemed leader of the Ryomen clan, breathed your last breath. The battlefield, now silent except for the soft fluttering of snowflakes, bore witness to the end of a formidable life—a life marked by courage, devotion, and unwavering love.

Sukuna knelt beside you, his hands trembling as they cradled your still form. His gaze, usually fierce and unyielding, softened with grief and disbelief. Your once-vibrant eyes, now closed in eternal rest, held the reflection of a thousand battles fought and victories won.

"Night flower….." he murmured, his voice breaking with emotion. "My love..."

He pressed his forehead against yours, as if seeking solace in the remnants of your warmth. Memories flooded his mind—of laughter shared beneath moonlit skies, of whispered promises in the quiet of night, of battles fought side by side against insurmountable odds.

But now, there was only silence. The weight of your absence settled upon him like a leaden cloak, suffocating and unbearable. The woman who had been his anchor, his confidante, his beloved, was now gone, leaving behind an irreplaceable void.

In the distance, the first rays of dawn painted the horizon with hues of gold and pink, a poignant contrast to the sorrow that enveloped Sukuna's heart. He knew that life would go on, that wars would be waged and victories celebrated, but for now, all he could feel was the emptiness left by your departure.

Gently, Sukuna closed your eyes, his touch tender yet filled with a profound sense of loss. He kissed your forehead, a final farewell to the woman who had captured his heart so completely. "Rest now, my love," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the whispering wind. "You will forever be in my heart."

As the world stirred awake to greet a new day, Sukuna remained by your side, his grief a silent tribute to the depth of your bond. The snow continued to fall, covering the earth in a blanket of white, the echoes of purity in your love amidst the chaos of war and destiny.

And so, amidst the red snow, Ryomen Hiromi passed from this world.

Ryomen Sukuna realized for the first time in years what it was truly like.

What it was truly like to be the most powerless creature in all of the world.

facts about this chapter

i can finally reveal the family tree of the ryomen family. i had to hold off but this is the family tree in the book, written by the newly born lady mikoto about her mom.

the mikoto became a prevalent clan by the end of the wars. the ryomen family name remained as a secondary name, but people ignored it the moment the family name changed to mikoto.

masaomi never remarried - he focused on revitalizing the ryomen/mikoto into one of the outliers of the jujutsu world all his life and protected his only child from any politiking that threatened her.

the mikoto are divided into two ranks now - those blood descendants of hiromi and those adopted and or are mikoto. the descendants of hiromi are represented by red and those adopted and or are mikoto are presented by purple. it traces where you come from in the clan.

hiromi's hand sign for heavenly subjugation is from the kuji-in or nine hand seals which are system of mudras and associated mantras that consist of nine syllables. hiromi uses number eight which is called zen.

eight is considered a holy number in ancient japan. its also considered a number of prosperity. the death of hiromi brings prosperity to other people, except herself.

hiromi dies at the age of 43 - which sounds like stillbirth in japanese. 死産 - shizan: 死 - death/to die and 産 - childbirth/produce.

masako was unseated as the heir to the ryomen because of the birth of her sister - due to the fact that her mother married masaomi and had a child with him. with the change of the clan name and the change in the system, masako was thought to be better as her brother's adviser.

the beginning of the gojo-ryomen/mikoto family ties truly started with the marriages between the children of hiromi. gojo satoru traces his descent from them.

sukuna did not challenge hiromi's youngest child for the ryomen seat. but a lot of the ryomen bannermen sided with him or went to the service of the gojo because masaomi was lowly in rank and thought sukuna or seiryuu/masako had more blood right than masaomi or his daughter did.

the chapter word number is in total 9900 words last i check and nine is an unlucky number in japanese. as nine often can sometimes pronounced ku — with the same pronunciation as agony or torture.

the next chapter happens near 70, 80 years after the death of hiromi and it will be from sukuna's perspective.

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ouchoofmyankle · 1 month

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My Thoughts On MHA Ending and Bakudeku

*MHA SPOILERS AHEAD*

This post is mainly gonna be me rambling but I wanted to get it out of my head before it consumes me whole. I cannot believe the ending we got. For multiple reasons. Deku being a teacher, Shigarki never being redeemed, but, most shockingly of all to me, the near complete victory Bakudeku shippers got---let me explain. For YEARS the main argument against Bakudeku was that Uraka/Deku was endgame and that, despite how much people shipped Bakudeku, it would NEVER be real. But then. But then, Hirokoshi didn't make Uraka/Deku cannon. Correct me if I'm wrong (please actually do if I am I kinda speed-read the last chapters in a haze) but Uraka and Deku were never confirmed to be dating. They were never confirmed to have dated. They were never confirmed to even have expressed feelings to each other and they sure as hell were never confirmed to have kissed---looking back on it, I don't know if ANYBODY kissed in the MHA manga, but, thats besides the point---Deku and Uraka were never confirmed to have been romantically involved. Which, just, blew my mind when I read that. Not because I was a super huge Uraka/Deku shipper but because I thought it was destined. Deku is the main male character, Uraka the main female one, and with hints at their relationship from the start that's just how super popular, mainstream stories go. Just like Aang and Katara from ATLA, but NOPE. Even more, he made Toga/Uraka cannon?!?! I'll be honest when I first saw Hirokoshi hinting at them being sexual towards one another I thought it was just fanservice and him being a creepy dude sexualizing lesbians (which I mean...he is doing) but their is WAY too much plot relevance and WAY too much actual romance for it to not be considered a real relationship. Both of them had unrequited feelings for Deku that they bonded over and formed an intense, but ultimately kinda beautiful relationship about. Hell, the last time Uraka and Deku interact in the manga it's just Deku comforting her about Toga dying. And yeah, you can argue their relationship grew with Uraka making that speech at UA and both of them being similar in their ultimate pursuit to save people, but, I feel like Toga/Uraka really throws a wrench in the whole possibility of their relationship. To me Uraka loving Toga felt like she was her moving on from Deku. So, already Bakudeku shippers have gained a major victory with the ambiguity of Uraka/Deku, but now it times to talk about the relationship of Bakudeku itself. Listen. I'm not really Bakudeku shipper. I never really read the manga for ANY ships, I was mainly just interested in the OFA/AFO lore. But. I have fucking eyes. And holy shit do they see a lot. You know the meme where its like "If you've been rivals for more than seven years you're no longer rivals, you're just gay?" Yeah. Yeah. Bakugo's redemption arc, him nearly dying several times to save Deku, him calling Deku "Izuku", him calling himself "Kacchan", Bakugo CONSTANTLY talking about "catching up to" Izuku, thinking about him and Dekus shared love for All Might while he dies, and, most damning of all I think, him crying because Deku lost his quirk and they "Can't be rivals forever/a while anymore" and then laughing with him bittersweetly. Like, holy shit. And then, the epilogue (which, I do have issues with the epilogue but that's besides the point) he mainly funded a, most likely very expensive super-suit, so Deku could be a hero again and they could continue being rivals. Like...????? Jesus christ dude. Like I don't know maybe I have gay glasses glued to my eyes but I don't know how else to read this. But, the argument I'm trying to make isn't that Bakudeku is cannon, or that their soulmates, my argument is that Bakudeku shippers have essentially won. Bakugo and Deku being friends and eternal rivals with neither of them having any canonical female love interests to Bakudeku shippers, who were shipping these two when they really shouldn't have, is victory. The ending of MHA is essentially victory for Bakudeku shippers. And that is WAY closer than I EVER thought Bakudeku shippers would get.

#mha #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya #mha finale #bakudeku #I should have known better I guess #I'm just so used to heteronormativity

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jq37 · 2 months

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truly the only person who Gets my paladin aelwyn vision. also i am sooo ;-; about your post on her moving back to mordred.... baby girl u r so loved.......

sorry for the late reply I've been traveling for the past month basically

yesssssssssssssssss this is like my favorite topic.

Abjuration is like, the most paladin-adjacent school of wizardry there is! In this season, we even see her taking a piece of magic that in-universe is basically only used by bad guys and turning it into loving protection. We got so much Aelwyn content this season and I am so so grateful for it but if all we'd gotten was that it would have emotionally wrecked me in and of itself.

Considering being a paladin mainly is about devotion, not necessarily following a specific god, I can so see her becoming a paladin initially by accident as well. Like, just being so frustrated with her lack of heals as a wizard in a situation and so-so-so wanting to do something about it and then suddenly, boom healing. Everyone's like, whoa was that some kind of weird, wizard healing? Nope, Lay on Hands. Welcome to multiclassing by the power of just giving too much of a damn.

And haha, the Mordred post is prob my fave FH post I've made this season and the kicker is that it was only supposed to be a couple of sentences long tops. But as I wrote it it turned into this whole exploration of her arc this season because I am obsessed with it. She was just playing out an entirely different story adjacent to the main story and there's such clear growth not just between seasons but across this season. She starts with the season with an aloof "enjoy the nemesis ward" and ends with an open declaration of affection and deep love in public with ice cream all over her face. Like what a 180. Like, the love was always there--from the start it was always there--but the way it's expressed is so different. You really get the sense that, of the two, Adaine is actually the more aggro sibling by nature and Aelwyn's aggro-ness is more nurture than nature because, besides the fact that a lot of what she was doing was a shield to keep n her parents' good side, she doesn't even fight back against Adaine's teasing very much--she mainly takes it good naturedly (submitting to Tasha's for instance).

At this point I'm just rambling but yeah I am an inaugural member of the Aelwyn Abernnat fan club and I'm so happy that Siobhan decided to pull Aelwyn in so much this season, even if it wasn't plot critical.

#asks #inflashback #aelwyn abernant #it's plot critical to *me*

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neopoliitan · 3 months

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TEAM RAIN: ARC 4 CH6 - THE PATH LESS TRAVELED

A WRITE UP FOR THE REST OF TEAM RAIN: CHAPTER 6

We return to Zenith. Zelena Braith is still questioning Viorel Braith on what Kamala Braith’s final plans are. We are not told what Zelena was asking about as we open on her asking for a firm confirmation, which Viorel gives.

Zelena rests her head in her hand as she processes this. She says she wants justice as much as the next person, but is unclear what Kamala aims to achieve with her plans. Viorel cuts her off and says they have spent fourteen years trying to render “the machine” operational, and that Zelena should not make the mistake of wasting their time.

Zelena affirms that she appreciates Viorel’s work, and claims that Akane’s semblance has got inside her head. Viorel states that “fools will do as fools will do.”

They’re interrupted by Viola Braith, who skips into Zenith victorious after her “beta test” in Avon. She states global rollout will go off without a hitch. Viorel says there was no doubt it would work as they did the hard work, but are cut off by Sterling Braith, who enters the room and brings up Viorel’s failed plan to recruit the Crazy Bunch. Having not seen Sterling since the start of Arc 3, Viola expresses exaggerated shock at his haggard appearance.

Sterling confronts Viorel and says his new arms aren’t “good enough” and they need to “do better.” Viorel retorts he’ll have to wait till Tahlia and Gardner get home, as the former is the engineer/mechanic of the family - besides, Sterling “is lucky to get anything after such a pitiful display” at Unsei Ridge, and they did a “miraculous job” given the short timeframe they had to work with.

Sterling grabs Viorel by the chest and lifts them off the floor, stating they’ll find out how “miraculous” a job they did when he uses his new arms to break every bone in their body. Zelena looks worried, then glances at Viola, who is clearly getting a kick out of the drama.

There’s a decent-length fight scene between Otso Umber and Raleigh Radcliff. During the fight, Otso lands a direct hit on Raleigh whose aura flares and causes Otso to reel back in pain.

Raleigh’s semblance is named “Return to Sender.” As the cost of aura, Raleigh will not take damage from enemy attacks - and instead deflect it back onto the enemy as they hit him. The more he focuses, the less damage he will take and the more his attacker will endure.

Raleigh mocks Otso for not recalling his semblance despite their forty-year feud.

Raleigh: “Doesn’t matter how hard you hit me - you’re the one who feels it.”

Otso: “I’ll take it if it means killing you! You ruined my life!”

Raleigh: “You’re doing a damn good job of that yourself!”

Otso: “Just admit it! You stole everything from me!”

Raleigh swings at Otso and clips his cheek with his hatchet. Otso spins with the momentum, then turns and catches Raleigh off guard, knocking him to the ground with a right hook. Otso swings down with his greatsword, but Raleigh blocks it with his ax and sweeps Otso aside.

Raleigh: “You want the truth? FINE!”

Raleigh: “You would’ve lost us that tournament! You didn’t stack up! I was the only one who did anything about it!”

Raleigh: “I cracked your damn head open so that I could take your place. You would’ve lost anyway.”

Otso is stunned by this revelation, so much so that Raleigh closes the gap and swings his hatchet at him. Otso parries, then uses the opening to drive his greatsword through Raleigh’s gut. Impaled, Raleigh’s knees buckle.

Otso pushes forward, leaning in and forcing his sword out through Raleigh’s back. As the space between them closes with Otso’s push, he yells that they were like brothers once.

Raleigh raises his hatchet. He affirms “we were” and swings at Otso’s exposed neck. In delirium thanks to their shared mortal wounds, the two exchange glances and chuckle, almost seeing their 18-year-old selves again. Then Raleigh swings again and Otso falls.

Raleigh pulls Otso’s sword from his gut, fully aware the wound is fatal, and casts it aside before dragging himself to lean up against his ship. He winces in pain, closes his eyes, then tilts his head to the sky.

After a moment, he hears footsteps.

Gardner Braith enters the clearing. He ponders Otso’s corpse and weapon for a moment, before being distracted as Tahlia Braith calls to him. She warns him that Team RAIN is here and they need to leave. Recognising their task is complete, Gardner picks up Otso’s bloodied sword as proof of his death and the duo hop into the truck they used to get to Faraday.

Team RAIN pursues Tahlia into the clearing to see the truck pulling out. Wil marches forward, saying all he needs is a truck to close the gap - Irving adds that the tyre tracks will basically draw a map to Zenith.

Akane and Robin spot Raleigh and kneel at his side. Robin says they need to get him help, but he tells them not to waste the effort on a dead man.

Raleigh pulls a photo out of his vest pocket and hands it to Akane, telling her he has a son, Cordovan. He adds he has a daughter, Rosie, by a different mother. He asks her to find them and tell them he’s sorry, and that he’s proud of them. Akane protests that he can tell them himself, but he scoffs that it’ll mean more coming from her - they’ll know she’s telling the truth.

Raleigh slumps. Robin stands up and places her hands behind her head as she takes it in as Akane studies the photo.

The roar of an engine brings them back to the present - Wil announces he’s found a truck that works. Everyone piles in as Akane pockets the photo for later.

Wil: “Where’s Radcliff?”

Akane: “He didn’t make it.”

Wil: “How well d’you know him?”

Akane: “Barely.”

Wil: “Then we can worry about it later.”

The truck pulls out, in pursuit of the Braiths.

–

Things get much more nebulous from here, as very few scenes are fully scripted (all of the next chapter was written pretty early, though.)

The following would have been a vehicle fight between Gardner/Tahlia’s truck and Team RAIN/PALM’s truck, involving a lot of bumper bashing and side-swiping.

By the end of the vehicular battle, Tahlia would have climbed out of the sun-roof of the Braith truck, ran along the roof to the back of the vehicle and jumped off, landing in front of the Team RAIN truck. Using her Repulsion Semblance, she would repel the truck off the road and down a bank where it would be trashed.

Tahlia stands at the top of the hill, looking down at the wreck with slight remorse. Gardner pulls up next to her and climbs out of their truck, brandishing his weapon and telling her to get in the truck as she doesn’t need to witness what comes next.

Gardner proceeds to march downhill as Tahlia stares blankly at the horizon. After a moment, she notices something and squints - a blurry figure appears in the distance. She calls out to Gardner, telling him that someone is coming.

Gardner spots the figure too. His eyes widen and he turns, gently pulling Tahlia towards the truck.

Gardner: “We need to go.”

Tahlia: “But what about–”

Gardner: “Just get in the truck.”

Gardner looks over his shoulder at the stranger.

Tahlia: “Who are they?”

Gardner: “Don’t worry about it.”

The Stranger watches the two Braiths peel away from the scene of the crash as they approach the wreckage. Irving pulls himself out, groaning as his aura flickers. The Stranger’s boot lands in front of him as he looks up worriedly, but he is relieved as the stranger offers a hand to help him up. We see their face is obscured with a hood, with a neckerchief and goggles covering their eyes and mouth.

Stranger: “Here. Let me help.”

–

Hours after the crash, Robin wakes up in a cave, a blanket covering her. She reaches for her sword, but its scabbard is empty. After a brief scan she sees her sword lying against the cave wall, and quietly picks it up.

She rounds a corner nervously, where we see an obscured close up of the Stranger warming their hands at a small fire, their back to her. Robin slowly creeps up with her weapon, but the Stranger interrupts without turning - telling her that if they wanted any harm to come to her, she’d be dead already.

Robin asks where her friends are, and the Stranger tells her they’re resting - as she should be. Ignoring this, Robin presses further, asking why and how a random stranger would come to rescue them in the wilderness.

The stranger ponders for a moment as they stand up, playing with their fingers. They tell her they’ve been watching the Braiths for a while now. Robin asks why - who are they?

We see over the Stranger’s shoulder as he turns around to face Robin, whose eyes widen.

It’s a man in his fifties, with untidy grey hair that was once black. His eyes are a piercing white - both sclera and iris - ringed with dark circles of age and sleeplessness. He has a streaked, unkept beard, but his expression shows an innate kindness.

Stranger: “Oh, you know… just their father.”

#rwby #rwby fan art #rwby art #rwby fanart #rwby oc #team rain #robin lincoln #irving hawthorne #nyssa noirette #akane amaranth

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bundoesnotcompete · 3 months

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I need this to leave my brain. Reader is a Stellaron Hunter and Gender Neutral as possible. Reader is in their bad guy arc. Violence and likely lore inaccuracies. Also probable slight oocness but i do not think so but a warning just in case. See end for author notes

Elio watched as the Stellaron Hunters left with their scripts for the Zakryn system. It was one of the few places where all hunters would meet in this script. It was also one of the most important scripts for the plan. Halovian wings appeared beside him as the Stellaron Hunter leaned down to look at him.

Elio, in cat form, looked to the hunter. The hunter in front him holding unimaginable power and potential. If all went well, a piece of power would be restored. The hunter tilted their head, Elio knew the question.

"You are to go to the Zakryn system with everyone else. You are to make your own script, with the exception of playing along with the others, as I said before." Elio stated, watching as the hunter's head wings fluttered slightly in response. "All i ask is that you be careful and try not to cause too many problems for the IPC. Once the scripts have been run through for this system, I do not care what you do to them. I already know your answer anyway." The Halovian smiled at the added orders, pleased about what they could do when the script ended. "Go, time will not wait and the Astral Express is already on their way to this system. Go meet the other half." Nodding, the Halovian left the office, only turning back to wave goodbye to Elio.

Yes, Elio thought, with the power Saturday will aquire, they will be one step closer to regaining aeonhood. Soon, the aeon of origin shall return and set all things right.

---------

When you had gotten truck-kuned into one your favorite video games you had not expected to wake up on a dead planet. One you appreantly killed when your spirit was Isekai'd into Honkai Star Rail. Then the IPC showed up, and things only went south from there. Then they seriously wanted you dead after finding out you had accidently killed the planet and they were not playing around. Espcially after turning one of them into a Herrscher. Sweet heavens, you didn't know you could throw up so much until the Herrscher had slaughtered everyone before exploding from their own power, your power.

The silence afterwards had nearly driven you insane until you had found a stream nearby that was somewhat clean. The shock of finding out you were Halovian had given you a panic attack. Well, maybe that was you questioning everything you had been through in the eight or so hours after your isekai. Thankfully after cleaning yourself up, you were able to quickly find the IPC agents' ships. Of course, you couldn't read a damn word of the ships nor understand any of the buttons. After some expermenting, it turned out it wasn't too complicated to drive and after that you spent nearly twelve hours figuring out how to get to a nearby planet.

Once you got to that planet, things did calm down slightly. Well, that was until you had tripped over a cat not even five minutes away from where you had abandoned your borrowed ship. When you had gone to apologize to the cat and see if you had hurt or, your throat closed up, and it seemed you couldn't speak. It took everything in you to shove that panic attack and crisis down. Then, surprise surprise, that cat turned out to be none other than Elio himself. The leader of the Stellaron Hunters had been shocked, and you had thought it was because of your reaction. Unknown to you at the time, Elio had been shocked for shocked for a diffrent reason. He had sense the intense power coming from you and knew what he was seeing. This hadn't been part of any script, your reincarnation wasn't supposed to happen anytime soon. Elio had quickly composed himself and shifted to a more human form. A discussion was had, and soon, you were off to join the Stellaron Hunters.

At the time, only Blade and Kafka had been apart of the group. Since you were unable to say anything, including your name, Elio gifted you the name Saturday. He noted your similarities to the Halovian sibilings Robin and Sunday and assumed your were their recently pronounced dead sibiling. Not that you seemed aware of that, of course. It wasn't long until you had quite the bounty. Between your growing hatred for the IPC and your Honkai powers, many considered you highly dangerous. In fact, the IPC downright hated you which was mutual on your part.

Speaking of Honkai powers, you had guessed that you were some sort of manifestation of The Will of Honkai. Of course, you didn't have the absolute insane powers of it. But, you had figured out that if you poured enough of the Honaki energy into someone, they would turn into a sort of makeshift Herrscher. The expiration date for you victim often depended on the victim themselves. If you felt that they were too dangerous, you could simpily take the energy back early and terminate them early. Oh boy, you had thought when you had first began experimenting with your powers, if you ever meet Welt he was not going to react well to what you were doing.

It hadn't taken long for you to be desensitized to violence and gore. Between getting beat by Blade and Kafka in spars and the experimentation with your powers, you did not have any choice but to be desensitized to it. The first day of your Isekai still haunted you, but even those nightmares began to fade.

Along your journey, you had discovered a new Aeon thag hadn't been in lore when you played the game. The Aeons of Origin and Creation. You didn't find much other than theories about how they had been siblings and how they have their lives to create the universe. Other than theories on their return, not much was found about them. The reminder of sibilings had made you depressed for days afterwards, halovian wings drooping. You missed your friend. You two had been siblings in all but blood. Those thoughts had been banished within days, Elio distracting you with a script that had been absolute fun to play. So here you were, on your way to the system of Zakryn, ready to cause problems and be a menace to those who deserved it. Maybe you would even help those who couldn't help themselves while you were at it.

----------

Welt watched as the planet Zeven came into view outside the Astral Express's windows. Appreantly, the entire system this planet was in was dealing with intense Stellaron activity and Abundance issues. Himeko had suggested that they land on Zeven since it appeared to be the safest planet. While still dealing with a stellaron and abundance issues, the planet was in a rather stable state compared to the rest. In fact, when the crew had last talk to Jing Yuan, he had said that the Xianzhou Alliance would be helping the planets. With so many planets in the system suffering, the entire Alliance would be arrive in few weeks time at most. While the crew splitting up in two diffrent teams worried Welt slightly, it was nothing compared to his true worry.

This Universe was largely unaffected by the immense amount of Honkai energy that often plagued his own. While there were spots of intense concentration, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling in this system. Was the Honkai energy amplifying the issues in this sytem? He attempted to ignore the ball of dread forming in his stomach. Looking at the planet of Zeven was only stressing him out more. Taking a deep breath, Welt broke from his thoughts to try and focus on the now. All he could do was be cautious and watch his team, heavens know how much trouble Stelle and March unintentionally get into. The sound of Pom-Pom's voice echoed thoughout the train announcing the arrival to the planet of Hokkai and to get ready for landing. Turning away from the window, Welt adjusted his glasses and found a place to wait for March and Stelle to arrive.

Things were going to change for all involved with the system of Zakryn. From simple Citzens to the Stellaron Hunters, this system was the first of many major shifting points in the script and tapestry of fate. The first of the Aeon of Origin's power shard was to return to it's true owner, one way or another.

BEGIN ARC: The World of Nostalgic Greenery

-------

Notes:

In my Honkai Star Rail phase. Don't worry SAGAU and things of the like will be back. Like all other stories this was pumped out in like an hour or two. I tagged characters who have POVs in this story but not mentioned ones. The planet of Zeven had like 5 diffrent names i think i got the names in sync? Think thats all i got for now. Hope you enjoyed.

End notes

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr welt #welt yang #stellaron hunters #hsr elio #honkai star rail elio #honkai star rail x reader

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mosspace · 5 months

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Dear PTJ, please develope your female characters

Someone complaining abt the way PTJ writes his female characters (truly, a never seen before concept); 1st Afilliate Arc and Cheongliang Arc spoilers (at this point, I think most people are up to date w/ the story, but I'm still gonna put this warning just in case)

Look, I don't take Lookism super seriously. In fact, I think I never did that, mainly thanks to the outlandish concepts it had since the beginning. I'm just here to have fun at this point, and to finally learn the truth about Daniel's 2nd body (omg, it's been 400+ chapters-).

I definitely wasn't expecting to find super well written female characters (even though I definitely should, it's 2024, for God's sake-), something a good number of fighting-related webtoons seem to struggle with. But damn, does Lookism waste its female characters in a way not many have done before.

Since the focus of the story has shifted primarly towards fighting and taking down the Four Crews and Charles Choi, I'm gonna focus on two of the characters most connected to these aspects: Mary Kim and Crystal Choi (ik Lua and Sally are also connected in this way, but I don't really have a lot to say about them and, besides, they've already been covered by another user here on Tumblr)

Mary Kim

The perfect opportunity to get her more involved came up not so long ago, in the ep just before the Allied vs 1st Afilliate fight properly started. We see Mary's reaction upon hearing Vin Jin tell her that Taejin Cheon is alive; we can see her anger asclear as day both in her expression and her words. She literally expresses how much she wants to kill this guy.

And yet, PTJ doesn't make her go and get her revenge. Instead, we have Vin Jin basically saying that he will do it for her because 'his hands are already dirty" (i heavily paraphrased his words, but you get it), which to me, at least, doesn't make sense.

Time and time again we see how close the two of them are in spite of the many jabs they throw at each other. Even without knowing the details of their shared past in Cheongliang (which comes up a couple episodes later), it's very strange that she would let Vin jin go to face him just like that.

By this point, it's already stablished that he murdered somebody, an act that even if deserved by the deceased person, takes a mental toll on the one who does it. Taking this into account, I don't see why Mary would just let who's basically her best friend go through the same thing again, alone. And I especially don't see why she would obey him and stay behind. Her, Mary, the person who never takes Vin Jin's bullshit and always calls him out.

Why not have them both go together? It would be a great opportunity to 1) deal with the last negative reminder of their past, and gain a little bit of closure once and for all, and 2) have Mary finally fight seriously and be able to demonstrate why she's called 'The Empress of Two Seconds' and why she's considered so strong.

We've only seen her take down minor opponents a very, very small number of times, all of which are altercations that don't ever last too long (i guess this last thing is to back up her nickname but, eh)

TLDR: Let Mary dirty her hands as much as Vin. Let them take down together one of the people who has brought them so much pain as the pair of strong besties they are. Stop telling us how strong she is and actually commit to showing it.

Crystal Choi

Oh boy, this character-

Like, you mean to tell me that the sole offspring/child of the Big Bad Guy tm the protagonist and his friends are meant to take down, who also happens to be friends with said protagonist, doesn't play a major role on the story? Absolutely insane

And that isn't even taking into account that she also has 2 bodies, which is something only one other character (Daniel, the PROTAGONIST), has and is a major plot point

I'd like to see her be more aware of her privilege as a rich person. Yeah, she was relentlesstly bullied and undermined for her appeareance (which is a horrible thing for anybody to go through) but at least she wasn't poor, too. Does she actually use her money or her status as the daughter of one of the richest men in Korea to change things or solve problems?

Jay literally bought an ambulance of the same type used by the 1st Afilliate so that Allied could sneak in, so why can't Crystal do something similar to help them, too? She helped them during the Gambling Arc by bringing Kouji

I'd like to see her realize and come to terms with the fact that her father's a horrible person. I don't think she knows everything that's going on behind closed doors, but she's definitely smart enough to have noticed that there's something shady going on with his bussiness.

Let her discover the truth. Let her pick either her father's or Daniel's side (the latter which I believe is the most plausible, since she doesn't seem the type to excuse murder, extorsion, etc.). She could act as an informant, helping Allied from the inside.

Heck, you could have her fight, too, if you wanted to. She trained with Gun, after all. And yeah, maybe she's not as strong as the other characters, but we know that she can hold her own against most people. We've seen it.

TLDR: how the hell do you set up a character with so much potential and don't do anything with it. Also, think abt the angst potential!

________________________________________________

Final thoughts, I guess:

I think that Crystal siding with Allied has a higher chance of happening than PTJ letting Mary fight. There's still a good chunk of the story yet to be told, so anything could happen.

I'm actually considering believing that the reason we rarely see the female characters is that they, also, are working secretly to take down the Four Crews and it's gonna get revealed in the last arc for the sake of my sanity

#whyyy wont tumblr let me edit this anymore #i could also talk abt how there's little to no variation in the fem character's body types #or faces #even the male background nameless characters whose only purspose is to be knocked out in 1 single panel have more diversity #lookism #lookism webtoon #i also find it weird how mary's made fun for being fat during the cheongliang arc #and rather it's always framed as a joke/a funny moment we should laugh at #it wasn't funny the 1st time #and it isn't funny now either #and what abt haera shin? the girl in charge of that one squad of people whose job is to fight?#when do we get to see her kick ass?#mospeaks #how do you fumble THIS bad?#fr #mary kim #crystal choi

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

Text

Falling For the Devil [Part forty-nine: "The Cemetery Visit"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt invites you to join him on his yearly visit to his father’s grave.

You see a vastly more vulnerable side to Matt than you ever have before.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3k

a/n: This is an emotional hurt/comfort installment. The next installment begins the Big Angst arc where you will not see comfort for quite a few installments. You can find the list of installments for this series on tumblr here.

Settled on the couch with your legs crossed on the leather cushions, you brought the steaming coffee mug to your mouth for a sip. Your eyes closed at the contact instantly, reveling in the comforting warmth of the drink. Behind you, you could hear Matt's bare feet shuffling out of the kitchen, his steps slow and tired. Opening your eyes, you glanced over your shoulder and spotted Matt making his way towards you on the couch. He looked just as exhausted as you with his unkempt hair and half-lidded eyes.

The two of you hadn’t gone to sleep until after three in the morning once you’d returned from Josie’s, having stayed awake just having sex because of that damned pheromone perfume Marci had gotten on you. And while the sex had been mind-blowingly amazing, it had worn you out. You could feel the ache and soreness in your cunt from overuse this morning, the rest of your body absolutely aching from some of the positions Matt had somehow managed to get you into. Matt had managed to bring you to orgasm six times–and he’d certainly been aiming to try for a seventh. You'd only gotten him to stop when you'd lured him into the shower with the prospect of shower sex. You had scrubbed the pheromone perfume off of yourself after and eventually managed to get Matt to calm down and relax. The pair of you had showered and then gone to bed afterwards, both of you completely spent.

Waking up this morning had been difficult. You’d unfortunately woken up around eight, unable to sleep in any longer. While you’d tried to be quiet and disentangle yourself gently from Matt, you’d inevitably and accidentally woken him up the moment you’d risen from the bed and threw some clothes on. He’d grumbled and groaned, stretching along the mattress and complaining about a headache. You’d greeted him quietly as he buried himself into his pillow and told him you’d get the coffee ready and leave out some ibuprofen and a glass of water for his headache.

Now the pair of you were both seated on his couch, silently drinking down your coffees. As you swallowed down another sip, you shifted along the couch towards Matt. He raised his left arm, allowing you to curl up into his side. You smiled contentedly as his arm draped over your shoulders, your eyes closing again. Matt shifted beside you before you felt his lips brush your temple gently. Your smile widened.

"So what's on the agenda for today?" you asked him, your voice scratchy from all the moaning and screaming Matt had you doing early this morning.

"There is something I usually do New Year's Day," Matt answered, his tone gruff and hoarse as well.

"Yeah?" you asked curiously, eyes on your mug that was warming your hands.

"I've always done it alone, though," he replied after a moment.

You nodded, drawing your mug back up to your mouth. You took a drink again, wishing you could just shoot the coffee straight into your bloodstream this morning. Matt's hand began rubbing a calming motion along your left shoulder.

"But maybe this year…you'd like to join me?" Matt asked hesitantly.

You turned a little in his one-arm embrace, looking up curiously at him beside you. He was gazing back down at you, an almost nervous expression spread across his features as his eyes scanned around your face.

"Join you with what?" you asked him.

"Visiting my father?" he questioned back, his dark brows raising anxiously onto his forehead.

Your eyes widened immediately. You'd heard Matt talk about his father on occasion, more often than he spoke about Maggie, but even that was a rare occurrence. Though over your holiday together, he had been in the sharing mood with a few memories about Jack. But the significance of him asking you to come with him to visit his father's grave was not lost on you.

"Are you sure?" you asked. "I don't–don't want to intrude on anything."

He smiled softly back at you, his eyes creasing as his hand continued to rub comfortingly along your shoulder.

"I would like you to, yes," he answered. "If you don’t mind?"

"I don't mind at all, Matt," you replied quickly.

You watched as he drew his mug back up to his mouth, drinking down more of his coffee. He was slowly beginning to look a bit more awake beside you.

"I've always gone on New Year's Day to visit him," Matt told you, his focus shifting towards the sliding bedroom door as he spoke. He shrugged a shoulder, a small smile playing across his lips. "Maybe it's silly, but I Iike to start my year seeing him, you know? Sometimes I tell him about the past year. I don't always visit him as much as I'd like throughout the year, but I never miss this day."

He swallowed hard, his attention returning to you beside him. There was a tight smile on his face but you could see the emotion behind his eyes that he was fighting to hide. You reached a hand up and affectionately stroked his cheek, Matt leaning into your touch.

"And I think this year I'd like to bring you with me," he murmured.

"I'd love to join you, Matt," you assured him.

You both leaned into each other, lips connecting in a kiss far sweeter than any you'd shared since your return from Josie’s early this morning. Something warm filled your heart, making you feel ready to burst. You knew you were hopelessly and absolutely in love with Matthew Murdock and you knew you'd do anything he asked.

_________

Walking arm in arm, Matt's cane folded up and tucked into his winter coat pocket, the pair of you made your way through Saint Mary's Cemetery where Matt's father was buried. The late morning sun was shining, the heat of it helping to counter the slight chill of the wind each time a gust blew.

Despite how it probably looked to the few visitors in the cemetery, Matt was leading you down the long winding path. He had been silent since the both of you had entered the cemetery and you, unsure if he wanted to speak, had remained quiet at his side. You'd both been walking for quite a few minutes, making your way further into the cemetery as you passed rows and rows of large headstones. You'd never been in a cemetery since you'd moved to New York and you were somehow shocked at how large this one was.

Eventually Matt paused, turning and leading the pair of you off the path and down a row of headstones. Your eyes scanned each one to your left as you passed them, and after a few minutes your gaze landed on his father's grave just before Matt stopped before it. You came to a stop beside him, your hand sliding down to grasp his own and intertwine your fingers. He squeezed your hand gently in return.

Your focus returned to the headstone, reading what was written on it. Your brows rose curiously as you read the name. You'd always heard him referred to as Jack, even seeing the posters at Fogwell’s with his fighting name ‘Battlin' Jack Murdock’ lining the walls, but here on his headstone it actually read 'Jonathan "Jack" Murdock'.

"His name was actually Jonathan?" you asked softly.

Matt shifted on his feet beside you, hand still holding yours. "Yeah," he replied just as quietly. "Though he always went by Jack, even out of the ring."

"I didn't know that," you whispered.

"He was an amazing fighter," Matt told you. "But as I got older I learned he would sometimes take bribes to lose fights. Just so he could make extra money to pay the bills and take care of me."

Your eyes lingered on Jack's grave as you listened to Matt. He spoke with that usual reverence he had when he talked about his father and you listened to him speak with an enraptured interest yourself, your hand still intertwined with his.

"I used to stitch him up after fights," he continued. A huff of amusement escaped him. "Even blind,” he said. “I stitched him even then, though it wasn't very good."

"That where you learned to stitch yourself?" you asked curiously.

"Yeah," he answered, a small grin on his mouth. "And I'm still not much better at it."

He was silent for a long moment beside you, his dark glasses focused straight ahead on the grave. Not wanting to intrude on his thoughts, you stayed silent beside him once again, allowing him to share what he was comfortable with.

"After the accident that blinded me," Matt softly began, "he was so supportive. Never treated me with pity or anything. Always offered comfort and advice. Encouragement." With a light laugh he added, "He used to joke that I could read braille faster than he could read a normal book."

A faint smile ghosted across your lips, enjoying the little look into Matt's relationship with his father and his childhood before he was at St. Agnes. You didn't often hear much about it.

He sighed audibly, the exhale full of emotion. "He refused to throw his last fight. Because of me." He shifted on his feet beside you. "And he–he knew what was going to happen to him when he won, and yet he did it anyway."

Your head turned, noticing the pain etched across his face. His tongue slipped out, wetting his lips as he continued to focus straight ahead.

"He had a good friend place a big bet on him for that fight. Had him put the winnings into an account my father had made for me," he continued, briefly pausing to clear his throat. His voice was quickly becoming thick with emotion and unshed tears now. "Which is how I ultimately paid for law school."

Beside you, Matt’s dark lenses may have hidden his eyes from you, but you could still see how pinched his face looked as he fought back his tears. Rising up onto your toes, you leaned in and brushed your lips against Matt's cheek. The corner of his mouth curled upward at the gesture.

"He always pushed me to study," Matt continued in that same hushed tone. "Always wanted me to do well in school. He made it a big priority." His smile grew into something bright as he continued on. "He would splurge on pizza when I got a good report card. Used it as like a bribe–which worked, because it was damn good pizza that we only got if I did well in school on something.” Matt’s gaze dropped to his feet, the smile softening on his face. “He uh, he wanted me to make something of myself. Have a better life than he did. A better one than what he was able to give me.” His tongue darted out, licking his lips almost nervously this time. “And he…didn’t want me to use my fists. He'd always told me he wanted me to use my mind. That's why I went to law school." His hand not holding yours gestured to the headstone, his focus returning to it. "Because of my dad."

You could feel tears stinging in your own eyes just listening to him talk about his father. You fought them back though, not wanting to start crying. But the emotion Matt was feeling, and the love he very clearly had for his father, was practically palpable in the air around the pair of you as you stood before his grave. It was impossible to miss and you found yourself further humbled that Matt brought you here to not only share the experience, but to recount some of his memories. You knew just how big of a gesture it was that he had brought you with him.

"I'm sure he'd be proud of the man you are, Matt," you whispered.

Matt winced, his smile becoming a little strained. "I'm not always so sure," he answered back quietly. "He didn't want me to use my fists, and well, you and I both know that I do." An almost bitter laugh left him. “You know, my grandmother–his mother–was a real Catholic. She used to say ‘Be careful of the Murdock boys. They got the devil in ‘em.’”

You immediately turned into Matt, stepping in front of him and reaching your other hand up to cup his cheek, slowly turning his face towards yours. His head willingly moved at your touch, his lips visibly trembling. There was a pain that shot through your chest at the sight of him hurting so deeply before you.

"He would be proud of you, Matt," you told him firmly. "In fact, I'm sure he often looks down at you, proud of the man you are. You're intelligent and successful and you do so much good for this city. In and out of the mask. With your mind and your fists." Your eyes stung with tears again the more his lips trembled. "You have a big heart, Matty, and you're filled with so much good. How could he not be proud of you?" You smiled warmly up at him, thumb stroking his cheek. “And there’s no devil in you, Matthew Murdock,” you stated. “You have demons, just like the rest of us, but there’s no devil in you. I promise you that.”

You fought down the threat of tears yet again as Matt's hand tightened its hold on yours, grabbing onto you like his life depended on it. A stray tear slipped out beneath his red lenses and your thumb stretched across his cheek, wiping it tenderly away. He was sniffling a little louder now, though clearly trying to hold his emotions down.

"Your father sounds like an amazing man," you whispered. "Just like you are. I wish I could have had the chance to meet him."

"He'd have loved you," Matt breathed out, trying to fight down more tears with a loud sniffle. "He'd have loved your tenacity for the truth in a story. And he'd have loved your awkward humor," he said with a chuckle, the sound growing the smile on your lips. "You two would have gotten along really well. He’d have loved how supportive of me you always are, just as much as I do. It often…reminds me of him."

Your thumb caressed his cheek as you gazed up at Matt. Despite your best attempts, a few stray tears had fallen down your own cheeks and you turned your head to wipe them onto your shoulder.

“I love you,” Matt said, voice filled with so much emotion.

Your gaze focused back on him before you, the wind biting at the tear tracks on your cheeks. “I love you, too, Matthew,” you told him.

He cleared his throat loudly, yet again sniffling. Releasing your hold on his hand and his cheek, you slipped your arms under his and drew him in towards you in a hug. Matt’s arms encircled your shoulders quickly, his forehead falling to rest atop your head as you buried your face into his jacket.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he whispered.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you whispered back.

You could feel his lips pull back into a smile against your hair. Your own lips were curling into a smile against Matt’s chest.

“I usually grab lunch at this burger place my dad used to always take me to the day after a fight,” Matt said into your hair. “Would you…like to come with me?”

“On one condition,” you told him, voice muffled by his coat. “I pay for lunch.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t–”

“Please,” you cut him off, arms tightening around him. “Let me, please?”

He nodded against the top of your head. “Okay,” he whispered.

He released his arms from around you and you reluctantly released him in return. His hand grabbed your bicep, turning to leave, but you placed a hand on his.

“Wait,” you murmured, drawing your arm from Matt’s hold.

Matt paused, his hand falling to his side as he tilted his head curiously back at you. The tip of his nose was red from the cold and crying, your own nose probably looking similar. You turned on your heel and made your way towards Jack’s headstone, kneeling down beside it. Carefully you placed your gloved hand against the stone, the chill of it seeping through the black material. Your eyes dropped down from the headstone to the yellowing, mid-winter grass in front of it where his father lay buried beneath.

“Thank you for raising such a great man,” you whispered, ignoring the fact that Matt could hear every word. “I don’t think he realizes he carries a lot of those traits he admires from you in himself, but I see them. So thank you.”

Rising back up on your feet, you turned and made your way back towards Matt. He was smiling at you, another tear sliding down his cheek. You reached a gloved hand up and wiped it away before wrapping your arm around his waist. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, drawing you in flush to his side as you both walked.

“So this burger place,” you began as the pair of you began your way back out of the cemetery, “did you both go often?”

“We’d usually go for lunch the day after he won a fight,” Matt said, a smile back on his face. “He always ordered a bacon cheeseburger and onion rings.”

“And what did you order?” you asked.

Both of you made it back onto the paved path, still wrapped around each other. You could feel the warmth of Matt radiating along your side.

“The same thing,” he said with a faint laugh. “Because I wanted to be like him.”

“Well, you know,” you began, grinning, “a bacon cheeseburger and onion rings does sound kind of good after drinking last night. Especially after…everything else last night.”

Matt laughed, the sound warm as it rang out through the cold air. He leaned down towards you, planting a quick kiss to the top of your head. “I agree, sweetheart,” he murmured into your hair. “I agree.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock series #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil x female reader #fftd

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yakool-foolio · 1 year

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I honestly wish Rain Code’s final act was involved the other NDA detectives a bit more. It did feel a little cheap that the only time they showed up was as staged deaths, and in the epilogue you find out they where OK all along lol. And then everyone fucked off. :/

We were robbed of the NDA detectives helping out with the final investigation. The damn notes left behind weren't even theirs! I get that leaving the final showdown closed off to everyone except Yuma adds to the tension, but at the same time it misses out on a lotta potential final interactions to finish off each characters' arcs cleanly. I propose my personal fix of chapter 5 to actually involve the detectives in some form:

Yuma sticks with Kurumi throughout the entirety of he investigation like normal. However, instead of the NDA detectives being locked up in Kanai Tower, they're all at the abandoned village. They woke up before Yuma, so they all remain out of sight as they begin their own individual 'field research' while also trying to find each other. Instead of fake-out corpses, the detectives leave behind notes from their research and scraps of their clothing/accessories for Yuma to find (Halara leaves one of their earrings, Fubuki leaves a bracelet, Desuhiko leaves a pin, and Vivia leaves a bandage). It still shocks Yuma into thinking they may be in danger, but there's always hope that they're alive.

When Yuma and Kurumi reach the bathhouse, all the NDA detectives are there. There's a healthy amount of time spent with them embracing in one big group hug as they express their worry and relief that they're all alive and okay. They spend some time talking amongst themselves, sharing more tidbits about their investigations with Yuma while also ending each of their character arcs on a good note. When they turn off the rainmaker (wouldn't be surprised if Fubuki turned it off out of curiosity), they're confronted by Makoto. With no one else to turn to, Yuma helps Makoto and he turns the rainmaker back on. All the detectives are wary, and their fears are proven right as Makoto holds a gun to Yuma, threatening to kill him if they don't keep the truth from getting out. Yuma quickly calls on Shinigami as the detectives and Makoto are at a standstill, and the Mystery Labyrinth ensues.

Bonus Viviakou route cause I couldn't contain myself: When Yuma follows Yakou's voice and later finds him at the broken down test facility, he's startled to find two figures cloaked in shadow walking beside one another. Upon closer inspection, Yuma gasps at the sight of Vivia accompanying the zombified Yakou. Vivia notices the trainee's presence. The ghostly detective tells him that he found Yakou wandering alone and decided to stay and try talking with him. He mentions that Yakou wishes to give something of value to Yuma, in which the zombified chief hands him the disk. Yuma thanks the both of them, and Vivia ends off their conversation by reassuring him that he'll regroup with him soon, but he wants to spend more time with Yakou first. As Yuma agrees and walks away, he momentarily turns back to see Vivia looking at Yakou with a silvery glint in his eyes. He sadly smiles as he reaffirms in his mind how much Vivia cared for Yakou.

#there was so much potential for post-chapter 4 character growth #and they SOILED IT #rain code #rain code spoilers #yuma kokohead #yakou furio #vivia twilight #viviakou

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staycalmandhugaclone · 1 year

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I love your writing could I request the bad batches reaction to a reader with a service dog? I have mine for my anxiety and cptsd but she also helps with my severe nut allergy.

Firstly: I'm so sorry this took so long! I don't like shifting gears in the middle of an arc, so wanted to finish Breaking Point first, which took much long than I anticipated (as they always do lol). Anyway, I started answering this in classic headcanon format… but it didn’t feel personal enough for the topic. I am such a huge advocate for animals in treatments, therapies, and service jobs like yours, so I wanted to try to do something special for you! If this doesn’t quite fulfill what you were hoping for, feel free to drop another Ask with extra details. Also, I definitely lean more toward first-person narrative than second, but I gave it a shot here!

Unorthodox and Irreplaceable

Warnings: Reader has unspecified emotional/mental health problems requiring the use of a service animal

WC: 2,606

Your heart raced as you stood beside Captain Gregor on the landing platform nestled inside a towering cliff face. It was his idea to add a nat-born to all remaining clone squads as a kind of camouflage when planet-side, and it hadn’t taken much effort to convince you to join. Anything you could do to oppose the tyrannical Empire was worth the risk. Now that the moment was near, however, the undeniable pang of anxiety was relentless.

“How’d the introductions go with the other squads?” You ask, eager for a gentle conversation to help quell your nerves. He gave a small shrug, powerful shoulders shifting almost lazily with the movement, and let out an almost dismissive grunt.

“Some better than others.” He answered honestly, words just hinting at a subtle smirk on his lips. “Had one group argue for over an hour that they weren’t ‘babysitting some kriffing nat-born’.” His eyes rolled dramatically, head shaking at the memory. “Within three rotations, those damn di’kuts were inseparable.” A gentle bump of warm scales against your hand was more than enough to draw you back from the threat of spiraling fears, attention dropping to the calm, grinning face of the massiff beside you. With a small sigh, you rubbed your fingers fondly over your companion’s head in gratitude.

The little trill of a giggle served as a precursor to the distant hum of engines, and you let your eyes scan the narrow entrance to the hidden base moments before the elegant, three-finned craft dove hazardously between the jutting rocks at a speed that wrenched a small gasp from you before you could begin to fight it back.

“That’ll be them!” Gregor stated warmly, and that anxiety threatened to peak into something too near terror. “Don’t worry,” He added, glancing down at you, beaming smile stretched effortlessly across his face, “Looks like a nightmare, but their pilot knows every inch of that ship. You’ll be in good hands!” You tried once more to quiet yourself until Gregor’s almost surprised, “huh” drew your gaze back up, and found yourself tensing as the sight of the young girl behind the controls.

You both watched in morbid curiosity and horror as the transport raced through the suddenly too-narrow hanger before wrenching to an almost complete stop barely a dozen meters away, bringing with it a gust of wind powerful enough to knock you back a half-step. Another compulsive laugh sounded from the man beside you before his face fell back into an expression just shy of stern as the ramp began to lower.

“I assume you lot have a good reason for letting the kid go flying around in my hanger like a kriffing pod-racer?” Despite the subtle crease between his brows, you could hear the fondness in his voice. The first to step from the ship wore his long curls restrained by a red strip of cloth revealing an impressive tattoo that covered the majority of the left side of his face. You knew he was a clone, but something about his stature didn’t quite match the others with that initially unsettling exactness you’d become familiar with.

“Tech said she should get some ‘experience with limited room for maneuverability’.” He answered, eyes rolling slightly as he pointedly focused on the commander, gaze not once flicking toward you as he approached.

“You didn’t say they were bringing a massiff!” A young girl came racing out mere seconds after him, face alight with the glee of youth as puffy, blonde locks bounced with her every movement. A subtle shift of the man’s hand instantly stilled her advance, however.

“Pretty sure you still need to finish your flight check.” He retorted, smoky voice lowering into a rebuttal just hinting at the smirk vainly hidden beneath an unimpressed façade. The girl let out a slow sigh before begrudgingly retracing her steps up the ramp.

“Sergeant Hunter, let me introduce you to your new squad member and alibi.” Gregor continued, seemingly oblivious to the unimpressed frown just drawing a crease between the man’s brows as the Captain gave your name and listed off your skills and accomplishments. “Right… Good luck!” He added with an earnest chuckle before unceremoniously treading away, leaving Hunter and you alone. He offered no response, merely studied you with an unsettling attentiveness.

“I’m going to venture a guess that Captain Gregor failed to mention my plus-one?” There was a subtle sympathy in your words, breaking the silence with an almost weary smirk.

“You’d be correct.” The Sergeant answered stiffly. Drawing a deep breath, you tried to ready yourself for the coming conversation and potential disappointment.

“Well, this is Rena. She’s a trained service massiff, so you don’t have to worry about her causing problems on your ship.” His jaw tensed against his initial objection, but his reluctance was clear, and you hated that sense of validation for your earlier anxiety.

“Trained or not, it’s a small ship.” His answer came too quickly, and you briefly caught your lip between your teeth to bite back the impatient retort. Dealing with people ignorant and uncompromising of both the need for and difference between service animals versus pets was a fight you were no stranger too, and it became more tedious with each assumption and dismissive glance sent your way.

“Sergeant Hunter, I am well aware that Rena and I may not fit whatever expectations you had, but we’re here. So, are you going to give us a chance?” Whatever taste of remorse touched your earlier words was gone, replaced with unapologetic brusqueness. “If not, you’d better hurry if you want to catch Captain Gregor before his next briefing.” If he was going to react with such prejudice before sharing more than a handful of words with you, maybe it would be for the best if they found another civilian to travel with.

Hunter didn’t respond for a long moment, arms tensing around his chest before, with a small sigh, nodding toward his ship and turning back to the ramp. Frozen in a moment of surprise, you could only watch him for a those first few strides before quickly moving to follow him. Driven by the need to prove yourself, you quickly commit his brief tour of the Marauder to memory. When you reached the ladder to the cockpit, you paused, calculating the drop and distance between the rungs. He remained silent, watching you instruct Rena to wait as you descended before allowing her to jump down after you.

“I’m not helping get that thing out of here.” A raspy voice drawled with unmodulated disdain. Looking back, you found sharp eyes watching you with a bored disinterest. He was tall for a clone, with short, nearly silver hair.

“I don’t mind helpin’!” An even bigger man said happily, expression lit with a deep-seated joy utterly unaffected by the web of scars marring the left side of his face. “I’ve been tryin’ to get Hunter to let us get a tooka or somethin’ for ages!” The girl from earlier was seated upfront with two others running through the ship’s systems, but she kept stealing glances over her shoulder at you.

“It’s not a pet, Wrecker.” Hunter stated, voice drawn as though already weary from the coming conversation, and the larger clone, Wrecker, turned back to you with a look of confusion.

“He’s right.” You started calmly, eager for the chance to explain to all of them while there was a moment of quiet. “Rena’s my service animal. She helps me with things like keeping my emotions in check or alerting me to things I’m allergic to.” It was a profound simplification, but, to start, that was generally the best way to make introductions. The man standing behind the pilot’s chair seemed to perk at that, finally turning away from the girl to stare at you from behind orange-tinted goggles.

“Fascinating.” Something about the curiosity in his crisp voice threatened to pull your lips into a small smile. “What cues do they use to alert you?” He asked, and that smile readily broke through, relieved at the lack of immediate disregard from the man.

“It depends on what she’s reacting to.” You explained. “For allergies, she paws at my foot. If it’s more… mental health based, she’ll react based of the severity – anything from nudging my hand to laying on my chest.” You waited tensely for how they’d receive that, knowing it could be a difficult issue to overcome given the nature of their missions, and you weren’t surprised when Hunter was the first to respond.

“Is that going to be a problem when we’re in the field?” His voice quieted, that earlier coldness replaced with a gentleness you hadn’t expected. It made sense, though. If he’d asked it as though he were interrogating you, it would be natural to get defensive. Even if it was feigned solely for the sake of establishing the illusion of concern to lull you into a false sense of comfort, you still found yourself grateful for it.

“No.” You answered confidently. “I’ve spoken in depth with Captain Gregor about it, and he’s assured me that my sensitivities shouldn’t interfere our work.” It was obvious this wouldn’t be the end of that discussion, but the young girl leaned over to whisper something to the pale clone beside her, and the Sergeant struggled to restrain his smirk. You couldn’t hear the response, but her face lit up, attention quickly turning to you as she sprung from the seat.

“Can I say ‘hi’?” She asked sweetly, pausing several steps back with her arms clasped behind her back, and you couldn’t help but melt.

“When she’s working, it’s important not to distract her, but I think we’re pretty safe here, and since you asked so nicely…” You said, drawing out those last words to treasure the excitement blooming on her young face. Letting go of Rena’s harness, you give the release comment granting the massiff permission to interact freely, and, much to her glee, shot straight toward the girl. The squeals of joy as Rena happily lavished her with affectionate kisses managed to bring a grin to even the surly one’s lips, even if only for a moment before he turned away.

The marketplace was just shy of overwhelming; streets bursting with a rich variety of sentients eager to sample and barter for local delicacies you’d never heard of but couldn’t help but find yourself drawn to by the vibrant scents alone. Briefly, you wondered how Hunter was handling the cacophony of sounds and movements and aromas, but he followed a half-dozen strides behind you appearing utterly unfazed by it all. Wrecker and the others were spread out amongst the crowd, each in common clothes in hopes of going unnoticed as they approached their target.

Your goal was to create a distraction if the need arose. That part was happening with or without your intent, however. Something about a “do not pet” sign somehow attracted attention even more than if Rena had worn nothing at all, and you constantly found yourself answering questions and refusing requests to let people’s kids ride her or take a picture. It was exhausting, but your responses were nearly rote by now, and your squad quickly recognized the opportunity it posed.

With the stall owner they’d been after distracted by the small crowd gathered around you, he failed to notice Hunter slip behind him, and then he was gone without anyone noticing. You lingered before a group of overly curious Ithorians as the others vanished, knowing they’d likely only need a few minutes to interrogate the man.

Like clockwork, Echo appeared moments later with Omega in tow, confirming they’d secured whatever data they’d been sent to acquire. You purposefully began the process of excusing yourself to continue “browsing” the market once noticing Crosshair and Tech further ahead, needing only a brief glance behind you to find Wrecker had also returned to the outskirts of the crowd, and carefully avoided looking at the market as the owner reappeared lest you make the mistake of making eye contact with the still disgruntled human.

As far as first missions went, it felt like a brilliant success, and you couldn’t help but swell with pride as everyone steadily reconverged at the Marauder.

“Come on, Cross! Even you gotta admit it!” As usual, you heard Wrecker before you saw him, and found yourself smiling upon finding the towering clone shaking his brother slightly with an arm thrown over his shoulders. Scowling, the sniper pushed uselessly against Wrecker’s side, but the larger man barely moved.

“Fine!” He relented. “The nat-born and the mutt managed not to get us caught. Happy?” He snarled, mood souring further upon noting the toothy grin on your lips.

“They did better than that.” Echo commented. “Even I barely got any weird looks.” It was an… unusual way to help, but no one could argue with the results.

It was late. Really late. Or nauseatingly early. Either way, Rena’s incessant pawing at the medbay door where you’d been granted relative privacy to sleep was… frustrating, at least until enough awareness returned to you to recognize that there was likely some reasoning behind her actions. Movements sluggish with drowsiness, you reluctantly pushed yourself to your feet and opened the door, and found yourself needing to move quickly to follow her as she shot down the main walkway.

Hunter arrived mere seconds after you, both pausing slightly in surprise before turning back to find Rena nudging her way onto Echo’s bunk. Oh. His body was twitching slightly, chest bucking beneath too-quick gasps. Without awaiting permission, the massiff gently rested her fore-paws on the edge of the mattress, stretching her massive head out to rest atop the arc’s chest, lightly at first before gradually lowering her full weight onto him.

When he woke, it was with a slight start, but almost instantly, his arms wrapped firmly around her neck, eyes slamming shut as he fought to steady his breath. Rena wiggled her way fully onto his bed with a subtly that threatened to drag a chuckle from you, but you knew how grounding her presence was, how irreplaceable she would be in freeing the man from whatever nightmare haunted him still.

With a barely audible whisper, you gave the command for her to ‘stay’, shot Hunter a knowing, weary grin, and returned to your room, happy to grant your friend as much time as he needed.

“Thank you.” Echo murmured the next morning. He wasn’t quite willing to meet your eyes, jaw taut as he fought the threat of a shame you knew too well, and you shook your head, letting out a slow breath.

“Wasn’t me.” You replied quietly. “It’s just what she does.” Waiting a beat, you let a smile play with your lips before adding with just a touch of pride, “Did Hunter tell you that Rena beat him to you?” To your glee, he let out a huff of laughter.

It had taken more than three rotations, but no one doubted yours or Rena’s place anymore. Wrecker thrived on bouts of roughhousing. Echo held a silent appreciation that you understood far too intimately. Omega adored her in all the ways only a child can. Hunter recognized both the strategic and, albeit begrudgingly, personal benefits to having the massiff with them. Tech was endlessly fascinated by how quickly she picked up on emotions, and even Crosshair had been caught giving her the occasional pat. It was unorthodox, but they’d all accepted you in their own way, and you couldn’t dismiss how quickly they began to feel like family.

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