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sanjisboyfie · 9 months ago

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๑ mummified [name] (29)

one piece x male reader

oh, the boy's a slag,

the best you've ever had

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nami covered her mouth at the sight.

it was truly gruesome. how did [name] end up in such a severely worse state than both sanji and usopp, even though they suffered the same attack? nami didn’t have any idea why, nor did she find herself caring for a reason.

not when she was reminded of how [name] was no longer breathing.

she turned him onto his back, grimacing at the sound the blood mad underneath the movement of his body. she took a couple of deep breaths before performing basic cpr.

“come on! [name], you can’t die here!” she shouted, frantically repeating the compressions with a steady rhythm. her arms were straight, in proper positioning, and she huffed with the motion of her body weight pressing down onto the area above [name]’s heart. “wake up!!!”

she debated on whether or not to give the breaths to [name] before shaking her head and committing herself to the routine. if it was life or death, then giving two breaths of air mouth to mouth wasn’t even a big deal. she wouldn’t hesitate if it meant the difference of [name] dying or living.

but just as she tilted his head back, to open his airway, there was a cough of blood that erupted from his mouth. she flinched away immediately to avoid the liquid splattering on her and also in shock. she looked at [name]’s chest and realized it was moving, very, very slowly, but it was moving.

“[name]!!!” she shouted, turning him to his side so that the blood could escape his mouth, instead of suffocating his airway. in a panic, she slapped his back a couple of times to urge the liquid to come out — not really thinking the action through in terms of bodily harm. but she didn’t have time to seriously evaluate her actions, not when she was just so frantic in seeing [name] stay alive.

he continued coughing out blood, the liquid dribbling out of his mouth and forming a puddle near his cheek. nami felt tears spring to her eyes as she saw how weak and fragile he really was.

his eyes were barely open, his jaw ajar, and his body was twitching every now and then.

“so much…blood,” nami breathed out, looking at the expanse of [name]’s body and her eyes becoming dull at the sight and reality. [name] had lost too much blood for it to be normal, for him to even be alive.

but she wasn’t going to question how he survived, she would just do everything in her power to ensure he stayed alive. she stood upright and was about to run to grab chopper’s spare bandages, gritting her teeth as she willed her legs to run forward.

but now, her and the weird knight had to be dealing with these two random circular people that had invaded their ship. they were spewing some irrelevant information about how usopp and sanji killed their brother, but nami could care less.

when they both started throttling her crew’s body around, she felt nothing but anger surge in her core.

“don’t touch them!!” she shouted, taking apart her clima tact and shooting two bars of it forward, the blue weapon forming an “x” shape as it was thrown towards the duo. “they’re already unconscious! can’t you see?! he’s going to die of blood loss, stop it!!!”

the two people obviously didn’t care for her pleading, which only made her more aggravated.

the weird knight and her made quick work in dealing with the two, nami filled with a new sense of urgency when she saw how beaten up and bloodied [name] really was. her eyes almost welled with tears, but she blinked them away and forced herself to focus on attacking.

after a joint effort in defeating the two, the ship and crew were finally safe again. nami threw off the gauntlet she was forced to use, rushing over to [name]’s side and holding her hand over his heart. a wave of relief came over her when she felt it was still beating.

“i need to do first aid quickly,” she reminded herself, running to grab the bandages from chopper’s quarters and then coming back onto the deck and hastily treating [name].

she apologized briefly to the unconscious sanji and usopp, but considering that they were not in as terrible condition as [name], she didn’t feel all that bad treating [name] first.

“old man!! where do you think you’re going?!” she shouted from [name]’s side, seeing that the old man was now adorning his metallic fear. “you can’t just leave us here?!”

“i apologize, but i must follow where enel went,” gan fall spoke, eyeing the injured [name] with immense pity, “please, treat him quickly and the other two so that you all can make it out of here alive,”

before nami could further argue with him, the sky night and his bird took off. she grit her teeth in annoyance, angrily wrapping the bandages around [name]’s bloodied form.

just as she thought she was at least half way done in treating him, there was a sudden blast of music that was heard from behind merry.

she fully expected to see some sort of enemy attacking them once again, but insteaad was confused when she saw a little ship being steered by conis and her father.

“nami-san! heso!” conis greeted, making nami tilt her head in confusion.

pagaya parked the vehicle behind merry and the two climbed aboard, a new face in tow.

“this is aisa-san, we had agreed to-”

“stay away blue sea people! i am a warrior of shandora and i will eliminate you!!”

pagaya’s explanation of who the girl was was cut off by the child herself, who was waving around a “weapon” in nami’s face. the woman could only look at her with an unimpressed expression, push her aside by using her elbow to get her out of the way, and looking up at conis.

“help me treat them, all of them are in really bad shape, but [name], i think he’s in the worst conditon,” conis and her father looked at the man in shock. the tall man that was comfortably eating at their home only hours before was now boiled down to a completely bloodied mess.

conis jumped to action, retrieving her first aid bag from their own personal ship and then immediately getting to work on treating him. nami assisted her, wiping [name] down clean of any blood and then immediately plastering a healing balm over his wounds.

the most obvious signs of damage were near his face, such as his eyes and ears, as well as his chest. conis worked as calmly as she could whilst nami kept a hardened expression the entire time she was treating [name].

‘if you even think about dying, [name], i’ll make sure to give you an earful in hell! there’s no way you’re dying today!’ the navigator thought to herself, watching conis’ finger expertly navigate the roll of bandage around [name]’s body.

“he should be completely covered now,” conis sighed after a strenous couple of minutes of work.

[name] was dressed head to toe in bandages. his eyes, nose, and mouth were the only uncovered parts of his face since he, obviously, needed to see and breathe. nami had covered him up with his shorts, but didn’t bother with his shirt since she didn’t want to move him around all that much.

“the healing balm underneath the bandages act as a cooling agent as well as an antibacterial, so it should target the possible burns he might have suffered from enel’s attack as well as fight infection,” conis informed nami, who only nodded her head in understanding. the skypiean noticed the other woman’s worried gaze lingering on [name], so she offered her comfort by rubbing up and down her back, “i will treat the other two, please stay by his side to keep him company.”

nami nodded, muttering a thank you, and positioned herself to be as close as possible to [name]’s resting body. her hand rested on top of his chest, right above his heart and it was a comfort to feel the faint beating against her own skin.

“i hope the others are doing alright,” she said to herself, looking down at [name]’s body with deep regret evident on her face. “seriously, you’re always getting into life threatening danger…for what, you idiot?”

she grit her teeth in annoyance, thinking back to alabasta. they were lucky to have vivi and chopper both on the scene to treat him quickly. and nami feels thankful to have conis help her out with the first aid. but her worry and anxiety over his wellbeing still hadn’t been quenched at all. without chopper here to treat him, he may as well be closer to being a dead man than walking this off like he did in alabasta.

when caused [name] to wake from his knocked out state was the giant beam of lightening that had shot straight down from the sky. he coughed blood up as the electricity hit the island beside them, making the water underneath merry rock back and forth.

he stabilized his breathing before taking in his surroundings. they were below deck of merry and beside him, usopp and sanji were bandaged up to treat their own wounds. and that was when he noticed he was wrapped head to toe in white bandages, some parts of the white surface blotted with red blood.

he groaned, feeling fatigue and pain wash over his entire body. of course, the god had to have the ability linked to electricity, he cursed in his head. he rolled over, trying to urge his legs in stepping forward. it took a couple of tries, like a baby deer walking for the first time, but then he was finally able to make it to the door.

when he slammed it open, the first thing he heard were the cries of someone. he searched the deck and saw a familiar head of blonde hair and a pair of white wings on their back. he walked forward, eyes softening as he saw that she was the source of crying.

seeing as he was unable to speak properly, the bandages around his face secured rather tight, all he could do was kneel down beside her and offer him his arms.

”[name]?” she breathed out in shock, surprised to see that he was even conscious so soon. when she saw the gesture he was offering, his arms spread open and his torso awaiting, she bit her lip and tried to muffle her cries. she collapsed into his arms, crying into the bandages around his chest as he hugged her tight.

she had just witnessed her father die, all thanks to enel and his lightening powers. she feels nothing but grief and anger. how could enel do this to her father? and while [name] didn’t even know the gravity of their current situation, he held her for as long as she needed with a stoic expression underneath his bandaged face.

“[name]! enel is going to-” she cut herself off, not wanting the same fate of her father to befall [name] and herself, “no, i can’t! i have to go, [name], i can’t explain further.”

[name] blinked at her sudden change in demeanor, tilting his head to the side in confusion. seeing the fire in her eyes and hearing her determination, though, he let her go and stood upright.

”for our safety, i can’t say what i have heard, but please tend the other two while i relay the message to the people. i can’t allow for this to happen without warning the others!” whatever “this” was, [name] didn’t know, but he didn’t bother trying to stop her.

instead, he only attempted a smile and threw her a thumbs up.

conis faltered at the sight, rushing forward and hugging him with the lightest touch and then backing away, “thank you for understanding! i really wish i didn’t have to leave the three of you without aid, but i must! i’m sorry! [name], please be safe!”

he waved her comment off, rolling his eyes at her apology, and shooing her away. she weakly laughed at his behavior, running off the deck of the ship and onto the miniature boat that she and her father had brought.

the only plan of action was to bring merry to the original meeting point. unfortunately, he would just have to hope that he was steering merry in the right direction. after getting everything in order, he walked to the room where sanji and usopp were resting and went to take care of them.

the two rags that were resting on their heads was set on the rim of the pail of water, so he first went to set them back in place. after wringing the water out, he placed the two rags on their foreheads. he continued to silently work in making sure they were comfortable, covering them with the thick blankets and fluffing their pillow.

in the midst of him treating them, sanji began muttering in his sleep. he wasn’t really listening, blocking out the noise and just focusing on how to speed up their healing process.

as he was redoing the bandages around sanji’s arms, though, the blonde unconsciously grabbed his own and pathetically called out, “nami-san~” to which [name] very abruptly dropped sanji’s hand with a grimace.

the action made sanji’s eyes open and when he saw the mummified version of [name] staring at him, he scurried away and wrapped himself in the blanket for protection, “no way i just held your hand!” he shouted, pointing a finger at [name].

seeing as he was bandaged up and unable to talk, [name] just went to flip him off before turning around and tending to usopp.

“where is nami-san?!” sanji cried out, rocking back and forth like a baby throwing a tantrum, “oh, i hope she is safe!”

as he was crying those mock tears, [name] stood up and went to throw out the old bandages. the movement made sanji look up from his wallowing and observe [name]’s form. he was moving well, all things considered, but he noticed that his actions were sluggish and lazy. as if he barely had enough energy to even be moving.

then sanji remembered everything up until this point. [name] was having really bad reactions prior to the god even showing up, overheating and sweating bullets. then he was attacked head on by the supposed god, making everything else that happened after become unknown.

using context clues, he could assume the condition [name] was in was also due to the god striking him. sanji grit his teeth, looking at the man’s bandaged body and recognizing the fact that the blame could be put onto him. he ran a hand through his blonde hair, looking aside as he mentally beat himself up.

[name] is so injured because of me, he thought to himself, and now nami-san is nowhere to be seen! i’ve failed as a crewmate and as a man! his thoughts were going rampant, ranting on and on about nami’s safety.

then he was knocked on the head by [name]’s knuckle. he was going to shout at him for being annoying, but when he looked up and noticed that every inch of [name]’s body was covered with bandages, he bit his tongue.

“we better wake up usopp,” sanji commanded, standing up and putting the cigarette back into his mouth, “we have to go and save nami-san,” then he shoved [name]’s shoulder with a glare, “you’re in no condition to do anything, though, so just stick behind with merry,”

[name] immediately refused, shoving sanji’s shoulder with an equal amount of force. sanji shook his head, “i won’t let you come, you’d only slow us down. be more considerate on this mission and stay back!”

if [name] could speak, he’d definitely curse sanji out, the blonde knew that. the glare he was sporting spoke for itself. but the chef really didn’t want [name] joining them.

they had to run across the island’s terrain, get to a high vantage point, somehow get on board of the massive flying ship that was above their heads and then probably fight the god that was behind this entire mess. [name] would only get hurt even more.

”you’ll just get even more hurt and slow us down,” sanji said, walking away and not leaving [name] anymore room to argue — as if the man could in the first place.

[name] felt furious at sanji for underestimating him so much. he already knew that there was no way that he was going to stay back while usopp and sanji got to face enel. over his dead body would he let those two go into such an intense fight alone.

but all he could do was simmer in his anger in silence, wincing as he crossed his arms over his chest in said anger.

“usopp, let’s go! we have nami-san to rescue!” sanji shouted, tugging usopp to the railing, “[name], don’t even think about-”

“too late,” usopp drawled out, seeing that the h/c haired man had already jumped off of the railing and onto the island before either of them could react.

“shit for brains, get back here!” sanji shouted, jumping ahead too and running to be side by side with [name], “go back to the ship, i won’t repeat myself!”

[name] flipped him off and continued running ahead.

“you’re only going to slow us down!” sanji argued, but his words were easily proven false as [name] was running the fastest among the three. usopp was running a couple of feet behind.

“sanji, are we seriously going up there?!” usopp cried out, legs wobbly as he tried catching up with the two.

“yeah, after i kick this asshole back to merry!”

[name] suddenly halted in his running, catching sanji in his arms and bracing for impact when usopp ran into his torso as well. with an iron strong grip, he had his arms wrapped around sanji and usopp’s waist and were carrying them at his waist height — as if they were rag dolls.

“put me down, shit for brains!”

“ah, how relaxing this is, to just rest in [name]’s arms like this~”

usopp and sanji had two very different reactions, obviously.

and [name] furrowed his brows in concentration, getting into position as if he were about to start running. but what shocked the two in his arms was that instead of him running, it appeared as if he was flying through the air.

they were still on the ground, the two confirmed that when they looked down and saw the grass so close to [name]’s feet. so he wasn’t actually flying, but the speed in which he was “running”, it was as if he was soaring through the air.

and before they knew it, they were standing on a rock that was a couple meters tall and gave them more leverage in reaching the gigantic ship that nami was apparently harbored on. after she was kidnapped by enel. all according to sanji’s theory.

[name] set usopp and sanji down, giving them a couple of seconds to get used to their lack of motion. using soru when it’s just your body in transport is fine, the body has been trained for it. but when you used soru with other in tow, it was hard to estimate how their bodies would react to the action.

sanji was reacting better than usopp, simply putting a hand on his chest to calm his heart and stabilize his breathing. the sniper, on the other hand, was off to the side puking his guts out.

[name] walked over when he was finished and roughly hit the belt that was around usopp’s waist. sanji perked up, seemingly ready to get their rescue mission into play, and joined [name]’s side. and speaking for him, he exclaimed, “usopp, get ready, we’re gonna use that stupid rope thing you have to get up there!”

“what?! why me?!” usopp cried out, not liking the way the two were ganging up on him. he couldn’t even rely on [name] to cower behind because the man himself looked rather unbothered by his fear.

“that rope of yours can reach up there! shoot it up and i’ll kick it in the direction of the ship to make sure it latches on! from there, we’ll climb it and save nami-san!”

usopp’s knees shook where he stood and he was about to beg [name] to let him not participate, but the male was still glaring at the belt around his waist with determination.

there was no way [name] would listen to his pleas now, usopp thought with a stream of tears going down his face.

“if this ends up ending terribly, i won’t be responsible!” is the last thing usopp shouts before releasing the hooked rope from his belt. it’s trajectory is set towards sanji, who kicks it at the last second to send it flying towards the ship.

when the hook at the end finally latched onto the ship, sanji and [name] threw themselves onto the rope while usopp just waited for it to take him off of the ground. now all that was left was to climb.

[name] grit his teeth at the immense pain he was going through. the closer they got to the deck of the massive ship flying through the sky, the more pain he was in. regardless of the fact, though, he continued on climbing and toughed out the pain.

when they finally were able to get onto some surface of rest, sanji was more amped up to save nami than he was before. he ran ahead, shouting about how they had to split up and use this time as resourcefully as they could. before he disappeared from their line of sight, though, he shouted once more, “and [name], don’t be a fucking idiot! it’s not just your life on the line, it’s usopp’s too!!”

“who said i can’t fend for myself?!” usopp cried out in offense, making [name] turn to him with an unimpressed look on his face.

obviously, [name] couldn’t verbalize anything so all he did was roughly tug usopp in a random direction and hope that that was the path that led them to enel. usopp continued crying out for him to stop, not wanting to actually fight the god, but he had no choice when it was [name] pulling him along.

[name] was bulldozing through wooden doors with not a care in the world, eager to find nami and get everyone to safety. he could see that with each door and wall that he smashed to pieces, she was getting closer. it only encouraged him to move faster.

usopp was tightly gripping his slingshot in anticipation, keen on how the farther they were traveling in on the ship, the louder the sounds of fighting were. nami was probably in a lot of trouble and that was what encouraged the sniper to move onward with [name] with some sense of courage.

but when the door [name] slammed open and revealed the actual god, usopp felt nothing but fear. he looked to [name] to gauge his reaction, but when he looked to where he was supposed to be standing, he was no longer there. and when usopp turned his head back into the direction of enel, he almost pissed himself when he saw the god was looking directly at him.

“special attack : exploding star!” he shouted with a mixture of courage and fear. when he opened his eyes, he saw that the god was glaring right back at him. where the hell did [name] go?! usopp screamed in his head, looking at the god and feeling himself tremble, “i-i’m sorry,”

the god didn’t look impressed.

”oi! nami, is sanji here yet?!”

“sanji? he’s here?!” nami exclaimed in shock. she was wondering if her eyes were deceiving her before or if it really was [name] that she saw standing beside usopp earlier. but, considering he was now missing, it must’ve been a trick of the light. that or she was going crazy.

“what do you mean he’s not here yet?! plus that asshole abandoned me! what are we going to do?!” usopp shouted in worry, running out of the way of one of enel’s attacks and tumbling towards nami.

“what do you mean?! you’re the one that’s supposed to be saving me?!”

“what?! no way, you save me!”

“screw that, save me!!”

the two bantered back and forth until enel shot another electric beam towards them. they dispersed and dodged the attack, crying to their heart’s content when they realized they were so close to getting hit.

“what the hell?! where’s [name] when you need him?!”

“savior [name]! save us!!!” usopp shouted, but when he saw zero movement from their surrounding area of the said man, he kicked his feet into the ground, “you asshole! how could you abandon us?!”

“you mean he was really here?!” nami shouted in confusion, “he’s in no condition to even be moving, what the hell were you guys thinking bringing him up here?!”

“he insisted, we can’t stop him! that’s like trying to stop a hungry luffy from eating all the food we have �� it’s impossible! im-poss-ible!!” usopp drawled out, a shriek escaping his lips as he dodged another attack. “but that doesn’t matter, he’s left us here for some reason! so now, we have to be the ones to take care of this situation!”

nami grit her teeth, “he’s gonna die if he fights enel! i’m serious, usopp, where did he go?!”

“how the hell am i supposed to know?! i’m the one telling you he ran away!”

“that’s bullshit, [name] wouldn’t run away!” nami defended, looking around and clenching her fists in frustration, “[name]! come here right now, or else we’re leaving you here!”

“you have an escape plan?!” usopp asked with stars in his eyes, eager to get out of the immediate line of danger.

“the waver — if we time our jumping right, we could land in the cloud island below and be saved by the clouds! that’s our only shot of getting out of here alive!”

“roger, i’ll distract him and you make sure it’s ready!”

the two nodded in understanding, running in separate directions to get their plan in motion. usopp’s plan to distract god enel didn’t work that well considering he only just put a target on himself and made enel focus on him entirely.

usopp thought that he was going to be done for, kneeling before enel with a firghtened look on his face. the god didn’t even flinch as he charged up an attack that would surely knock him out.

just as the beam was going to be shot out straight onto usopp’s torso, there was a squelching sound that echoed through the ship. it was quieter than the electricity bumbling on the end of enel’s fingertips, but usopp had heard it.

and enel was the one that felt it.

he looked down and saw the tip of a dagger sticking through his abdomen. the electricity he had charged up immediately died down and he coughed out blood, nothing but surprise painting his features.

“and who do you think you’re going to attack, god?”

usopp almost cried out to rejoice if he wasn’t scared out of his mind. that was [name]’s voice, no doubt. but the image of him was truly terrifying.

his shadow almost seemed bigger than it usually was, the way he was intimidatingly hovering behind enel. he was carrying a large bag behind him, making his figure seem even larger. the bandages that were tightly wound around every crevice of his body were now painted more red than white. the ones that were around his face were ripped off, revealing portions of his features. but most importantly, his mouth was unrestricted and his smirking canines were on display for them to see.

[name] was standing behind enel, a dagger in his clenched fist and buried deep into enel’s lower stomach. with a scowl on his face, he twisted the dagger and pushed it in deeper into his flesh.

“hey, i’m asking you a question, it’d be polite of you to answer,” he taunted, his knee nudging the back of enel’s and forcing him to kneel, “huh, never thought a god would look so befitting in this position. it’s kind of fuelling my ego. having a big, mighty man such as yourself kneeling before me,”

enel grit his teeth, a million questions running through his mind. how did such a feeble weapon manage to pierce his skin? that wasn’t supposed to be possible. it should’ve went straight through.

“i’m your god, now, enel,” [name] grinned, pulling the dagger out with a satisfied look on his face with the way the blood splattered across the deck, “say your prayers and i might be merciful,”

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[ .ᐟ ] mc getting saved by the power of medical knowlede iktr but also if u think about it, it's the mosy realistic thung that could've happened thats all im gonna say

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taglist (lmk if u want to be tagged ! <3 ) : pls do lmk if i left u out i havent done this in a long while so the chances are high i am at fault !!

@skullr0se, @strawberrii-tea, @triangulartriangles, @anotherlovefool, @sinmp, @3v37773, @taru-nami, @disc0dild0s, @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @kaulitzer, @notplutos, @cheetosins @whotdefak @lcst-at-5ea @zforgottensniper @lunarapple @softi-911 @softhanyu

#≡;- ꒰ ° keep safe series ꒱#ks #one piece x male reader #one piece x reader #x male reader #x reader #male reader #one piece male reader #one piece imagines #male reader imagines #anime male reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #male reader fanfic #male reader fanfiction

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capsyst · 1 year ago

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I am deeply touched that so many people enjoyed my little animation of Technoblade. I genuinely didn’t think that my post would get spread much, if at all, so thank you from the bottom of my heart for reblogging it and giving me such kind words.

While Procreate does include a playback feature, unfortunately the playback for how I animated this is 45 minutes long and well beyond the capacities of tumblr’s compression and limits. And since I don’t yet have a YouTube channel to host such a lengthy video, the best I can to is provide this quick and dirty breakdown of my process.

I animate the roughs in procreate and you can see that I am VERY loose with my initial pass. I often forget if I’m drawing him with 4 or 5 fingers, I changed his outfit halfway through the animation from a draping cape to a coat, and proportions fly all around. The most important aspect of this initial pass is just to get the timing and movement right.

I then do a second cleanup pass. It is not shown here, but this is what the lineart will eventually be based on. This pass is to refine the art and solidify it. Fix anatomy issues, those finger and clothing issues, and just generally work on sticking closer to the model I had chosen for my reference.

Then I do the lineart pass. I did this in Procreate Dreams by importing the animation as a video, lowering the opacity to 50%, and using it as a guide for the lineart. Here I refine the animation further and clean up any lingering problems.

Finally once the inking is done I color the animation. In Dreams I realized that groups are a godsend for this process. Every color was its own separate layer. But once I finished a layer I could group it together and Dreams treats it like it’s own singular track on the timeline. Then once I finished another color I would group those together with the group I already finished. And then again and again and so on until eventually I only had one layer for all the lineart and color. But if I ever needed to fix anything I could expand those groups and go directly to the frame in question. It’s a really handy feature!

Because he looks out the window at one point I wanted to have the light cast shadows on him. So I colored all the frames before and after the window in a darkened pallet, and the frames where he is at the window in the actual colors. Then I animated a shadow layer that I placed over those frames where he’s at the window at 30%.

For the background I drew an extra wide scene in Procreate and imported it into Dreams. I included an outside, and inside, and three curtains. Two closed, one open. With all of this in Dreams I then added the camera move, and a warp effect on the open curtain to make it seem like it was pulled open quickly. It was surprisingly easy to do!

As a final touch I added a reddish tint to the end when he goes full crazy.

If anyone has any questions about the animation process, or about Dreams or anything, please feel free to ask and I’ll do my best to answer as I can.

Again, thank you for enjoying this animation. I’m deeply touched by the response.

As an added bonus, here’s my 3 favorite smear frames!

#procreate dreams #procreate #animation #2d animation #procreate animation #hand drawn animation #dreams #technoblade never dies #technoblade #Minecraft #mcyt

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autumnmobile12 · 7 months ago

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Villain Deku AU

Most of the time when I see the Villain Deku AU, he's often crazy, and while I do love that concept, I really want to see more sarcastic, cinnamon roll 'Moxxie from Helluva Boss' vibes.

Shigaraki: And that's the plan, any questions?

Deku: Uh, yeah, what was that?

Shigaraki: That wasn't a question, Deku.

Deku: That wasn't a plan.

...

Remember my League of Morons vs A Summer Camp post?

Deku can fix that.

Shigaraki: All right, smart ass, you think you can do better?

Deku: I actually can. Your first mistake is attacking the second night of the camp. Let them all have their summer camp fun. By the end of a single week of non-stop, hardcore training, they'll be exhausted and less likely to fight off a surprise attack efficiently. Now, before the camp begins, we'll need Spinner to drive out there. You're the only one of us who hasn't committed any significant crimes yet.

Spinner: Why is that important?

Deku: *smiling cheerfully* Because you're a civilian. The Wild, Wild Pussycats aren't going to think it's weird if a civilian drives up to their base asking for directions through the mountains. Just make sure you have nice, dead battery for your cell phone. Ooh, or you could park on the road with a low tank of gas and walk up to their base! That'll sell it.

Spinner: Sell what?

Deku: You're getting the exact coordinates of the building for Kurogiri, of course. Once we have that information, he can open warp gates beneath our target while he's asleep and let gravity do the rest.

Kurogiri: You suggest we strike at night?

Deku: Right. You want to kidnap Kaachan, so we do it covertly while everyone's asleep. After that, if you really want to send a message to the heroes, we can always seal up the doors and windows, then Mustard can gas the building. Or Dabi can burn it to the ground. Your choice. Painless death in their sleep or painful death by fire?

Dabi: ...holy fuck, that's insane.

All-For-One: *through the computer monitor* Intriguing proposition, Deku. I suppose you have a back-up plan in case something goes wrong.

Deku: About that, it's entirely possible one of the Pussycats or UA teachers will be on look-out and if that's the case, Eraserhead will be the biggest obstacle. Most of you rely extremely heavily on your Quirks. We'll have to work on that, but in our current time frame, doing so before the summer camp is not feasible. So we'll need to remove the one player who can nullify Quirks. That'll be Mr. Compress's job.

Compress: And how exactly will I do that?

Deku: You'll hit him with a surprise attack. Kurogiri will open a warp gate for you, and the second he does, then you strike. Simple.

Muscular: Yeah, and what about the rest of us?

Deku: You'll be on standby in case Compress fails or draws too much attention to himself. Now about our hostage situation...do we really want Kaachan?

Kurogiri: What do you mean?

Deku: Well I know Kaachan. Despite his violent tendencies, he does have a strong sense of justice and he won't be easy to corrupt. Might I suggest taking the heteromorph students instead? Given society's discrimination problem against what they call the 'non-human' types, they've already got a reason for dissatisfaction with how they've been treated since they were born. Oh, and we should take Yaoyorozu Momo, too.

All: ....why?

Deku: She's rich. Her Quirk is infinitely useful, of course, but even if we can't convince her to join the League, her family will pay us a hefty ransom to get her back. For the record, so will Endeavor if we abduct his youngest son, too. Or we could just ransom the oldest one if all else fails.

Dabi: How the fuck did you know?!

Deku: ...Todoroki Touya allegedly burned up in a massive forest fire and the body was never found. You have a fire Quirk and horrific, full body burn scars and are the age he would have been today. It's not rocket science.

Shigaraki: ...this brat just hijacked my entire plan.

...

He'd quickly become the Bilbo Baggins of LoV, the one who's solving all the problems right up until they get to the fight with Gigantomachia, at which point he says, "No, I'm not helping you this time. He's gotta respect you, this is your quest. I'm not the fighting type, so I'll just sit back and watch." Proceeds to sit quietly and take notes while observing the fight.

Dabi also wasn't helping out with that fight, so every now and then he checks in on their progress. He just shows up, mildly entertained and mostly annoyed by the collective ineptitude (not that he's any better,) and he walks up to Deku.

Dabi: So how many ways have you thought of to defeat him?

Both: *duck as Spinner goes flying over them*

Deku: ...47. How's that recruitment process going? Because you're starting to look way more useful as a bargaining chip for ransom.

Dabi: Says the guy who's just sitting here.

#my hero academia #izuku midoriya #villain deku #alternate universe #league of villains #dabi #shigaraki tomura #boku no hero academia #bnha #spinner #kurogiri #vanguard action squad #mha #all for one #afo #helluva boss #hazbin hotel #reference

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manicpixieyandere · 7 days ago

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The League of Villains

Society and Quirks

So we just finished binging all of MHA and read the remaining chapters of the manga. And damn we did not expect the League of Villains to be some of our favorite characters to ever grace this Earth! But it's kinda unfortunate the franchise the ended up in. Let's talk about that!

First let's start by talking about the LoV and what quirks represented for them. In MHA it's quite common for quirks to be used as allegories for different kinds of marginalization.

Heteromorphs like Spinner are a representation of racism.

Toga's quirk is a representation of how she loves someone and how society deems that love "wrong". Toga is shown to love both boys and girls. People beg her to "just be normal". She is obviously queer.

Dabi's body was not made to deal with his own quirk. This reads as being born disabled. He also has the common disabled experience of being told to forget his dreams and aspirations.

Twice's double quirk and the trauma that came from it lead to him developing dissociative identity disorder.

Some in the LoV were also marginalized / had a rough start without anything to do with their quirks.

Magne is a trans woman.

Mr. Compress comes from a family lineage of criminals.

Shigaraki is a League of Legends player.

(No but seriously this poor kid was abused and manipulated his whole life).

Speaking of which a lot of the LoV were abused and / or neglected as children. Most of the shit Shigaraki went through was due to All For One, but it's not like his bio dad was stellar either. We all know Endeavor gets the worst dad of the year award for how he raised Toya, but Dabi also got the AFO manipulation to a degree as well. Toga's parents were neglectful and verbally abusive.

All of this is to say; The LoV members clearly had a rough life. But they found a family in each other! They all cared for each other in their own way! Twice and Toga were very close and would take care of each other. Dabi burns down Toga's childhood home. Spinner and Shigaraki bond over video games and were genuine friends. Compress takes care of everyone and saves them. Everyone is sad when Magne and Twice die.

All of this leads to this beautiful line from Shigaraki:

He wanted to be their hero. He wanted to destroy the world not just for his own urges, but to make the world a better place for his friends, for the LoV. But did he succeed, even a little bit?

Wellll... The hero society that doomed them all is still going well and thriving. The most change to come out of their mission was a bigger focus on quirk counseling. This is definitely important but it is not the only thing that needed to change. And it only changed because of ONE PERSON. The ONE person who showed empathy for Toga. Ochaco is the one to implement this change, but she is only one person. She cannot change the entire world on her own.

This is where we just can't get past the clear biases in the writing of MHA. The villains are not treated fairly. For example the heroes get off scott free with practically EVERYTHING. Bakugo dies? Just kidding! Oh the condition for him coming back to life was now Edgeshot has to die? Nah he's fine too. Deku had an entire arc about wanting to save Shigaraki when no one else agreed, only for him to kill him in the end. And after killing him it's not like he implemented changes to help prevent whoever the next Shigaraki is gonna be. The cycle will continue until changes are made.

So as you can see there is clear favoritism in the writing. And that is something that tends to be an issue whenever you have a plot device such as quirks that represent marginalization and you have villains who are trying to fight their oppressors. Let's look at a few examples!

For animation fans an example that leaves a bitter taste in our mouth is The Dragon Prince's dark magic. Dark magic is something that is seen as corrupt but also explained to be a way for humans to have magic to fight their oppressors as they were seen as less than since they had no magic. But dark magic is also used as an allegory for drugs and addiction, so it gets messy.

For the superhero fans let's look at The Boys. Supes are a complete mess. You have them representing conservatives and cops in an "all supes are bastards way" while also having them as a marginalized race in danger of being genocided. You can't have both.

Both of these examples show messy allegories in fantasy where rising against your oppressors is painted as wrong and the marginalized are also seen in a negative light due to some other component of their fantasy (drugs and cops respectively). MHA falls into the same trap with its villains. They're fighting their oppressors. They are oppressed due to their quirks just being who they are, but those quirks also lead to violent murderous urges (decay and transform most of all). It ends up creating a scenario where you teach the audience that it's bad to rise against your oppressors, it's bad to want change.

So what could they have done differently? Without completely redoing the quirk fantasy, the simplest answer would be to REDO THE SYSTEM! They hinted many times in the series it needed to change somehow and just never did. Normal civilians even wanted it changed, not just the villains! But it just doesn't change. They needed to put more focus on that push not just from the villains but from the innocent civilians as well to prove it's something that needed to change. But it never will. It's fiction and the book is closed.

But just because it's fictional doesn't mean it doesn't represent real world events. The story teaches negative things about marginalization and how we should never make a stand. It's like telling all the women right now in America to not be angry their anatomy and rights are being taken away from them. It's telling those women to love the man who is doing this to them. It's telling queer people to just accept they can't get married or transition anymore. It's telling us there is nothing to be done. But remember that isn't true! If you keep fighting things could change. It unfortunately may not be in your lifetime, but at least we can try to make things better for the future generations so no one has to hurt like the LoV did, like real people do today.

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snorlaxlovesme · 3 months ago

Text

if my heart was a compass, you'd be north

Asymmetry is Death the Kid’s main weakness, and Black Star knows it. When he sees Kid’s arm get blown off by Noah in Baba Yaga’s Castle, he knows that Kid won’t be able to fight back. Jumping between them is easier than breathing, and getting trapped in the Book of Eibon is something he believes he can endure. And maybe he can, so long as he believes rescue is coming. But what happens when no one at the DWMA seems to find Black Star’s rescue mission as important as Kid does? Pairings: Death the Kid / Black Star Warnings: violence, suicide ideation, panic attacks, depression Ao3 link: [x] Partners' artwork: @drowsystarlight Neeks [x] @vin420 Vin [x] Happy Chibiverb '24!! In the spirit of signing up for a cute and fun mini-bang in the fandom, my dumb ass wrote 23k words 💀But that's because I had such wonderful partners, with fantastic ideas and even more fantastic art! Make sure to like and reblog their work as well! If for some reason you want to read the whole thing in one insanely long tumblr post, here it is! If not, please use the the ao3 link above

prologue

Inanely, the first thing Black Star thinks as he watches Mifune fall to the ground is this should feel better.

He doesn’t even fully know what he means by that. But when he looks at his adversary, his rival, dead on the ground before him, he expects a sense of completion to wash over him that never comes. Will it ever come?

Tsubaki transforms, holding Black Star by the shoulders as she gently lowers him to the ground. His wounds must look worse than they are, because concern paints her features as she looks him over, like she can’t quite decide which injury to treat first. Luckily, Sid is close by. The bastard was probably watching the whole fight and doing dumb commentary like he did when Black Star fought Kid last. He doesn’t say anything, no congratulations or kind words, just gives him a once over with his dead zombie eyes before holding out his knife and letting Nygus transform. She gets to work bandaging him immediately.

“You okay?” she asks kindly. She’s probably worried about how he would feel after taking out Mifune. And sure, that’s part of it, but not all of it.

Black Star can’t help instinctually posturing. “Of course, I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” he asks. He can’t see Nygus’s full face beneath the mask of bandages she wears, but he sees her expression shift when she sees his petulant frown. She has the decency not to comment on it, at least.

Sure, it’s a very loose definition of “okay.” The slice on his foot hurts like a motherfucker, and his eye and cheek are starting to swell up from Mifune’s onslaught of attacks. The wounds on his arms are mostly superficial, but Nygus finishes wrapping them with care before reaching into her medipack for a cold compress for his head. He’s probably not concussed, but whatever.

Tsubaki crouches down and gives Black Star that good natured-smile she always does when she can tell he’s lying to himself. “Of course you are,” she says. Then her tone shifts ever so slightly. A little bit more serious. This question isn’t one she wants answered with a lie. “But are you satisfied?”

That is a better question. And the answer is simple: no.

Will he ever be?

“Tsubaki,” Black Star says quietly, turning to look at where Mifune lays. “Do you think I’m closer to beating God, now?”

She lays a hand on his shoulder, right next to the slash mark through his tattoo.

“You’ve never been closer,” she says matter-of-factly.

That may be so.

But that’s not good enough.

He can still remember the crater in the ground, the rubber heel of a leather shoe crushing him into the concrete.

He looks at Tsubaki, his good eye blazing with determination.

There’s one more person Black Star still has to face.

---

“Where do you think he’d be?” Black Star asks as he races through Baba Yaga’s Castle.

It was easier than he thought to slip away from Sid and Nygus. For all their care, they were never the most observant guardians, and with the battle raging on around them it was easy to wait for them to focus on their comms so Tsubaki and Black Star could slip away.

“I don’t know,” Tsubaki says from her ninja sword form. Her wavelength is equal parts supportive and worried. She knows that Black Star needs this closure, but she’s still concerned about his injuries. Before she transformed, she offered to carry Black Star at least until they got inside the castle, but he laughed right in her face. Injury or not, the great Black Star doesn’t need to be carried.

He still has adrenaline pumping through him from his fight with Mifune. He might be limping a bit from the wound on his foot, but he’s still capable of moving on his own, and most of the grunts in Baba Yaga’s Castle look like they’ve been taken care of already. He sees dark clothed mounds lying on the ground in every corridor he takes, so at least he knows the rest of the teams were doing something while he crushed every other fighter outside.

“Sid mentioned that they still needed to destroy the moral manipulation machine,” Tsubaki says from her weapon form. “If I had to guess, that’s probably where Kid is heading.”

Black Star has no idea where that might be. He never bothered to look at those maps and blueprints that Sid and Nygus had scattered between them. Black Star was a big man, he didn’t need some stupid map.

Soul Perception would be nice in this moment, but that was like the one meister ability that Black Star didn’t have. Not that he needed it. He had his ninja intuition, which some might say was better than Soul Perception anyway.

“Kid’s a god, right? And gods don’t mess around with mini bosses. There’s no way he’s dicking around in one of these spindly spider legs. If he’s anywhere, he’s going to the heart.”

My heart is different than a human heart, Black Star. Maybe shinigamis just feel differently than humans do.

“Black Star?”

Black Star blinks. Without even realizing, he had skidded to a halt.

“Sorry,” he says, breaking into a run again. “Like I said, he’s probably in the heart of the castle.”

Whatever, Black Star thinks, shaking the memory from mind like it was one of the cobwebs that covered every corner of this castle. That stuff was in the past, and this was the present. He’d prove to Kid now just how big of a man he’d become, even with his stupid human heart.

He gets to the heart faster than he would have thought. The corridor he’s been running through opens up into a large room, and at the center sits a complicated looking machine.

“You think that’s it?” Black Star asks Tsubaki.

She doesn’t get the chance to answer, because at that second Black Star hears Kid’s voice, coming from one of the other hallways leading to this giant room.

“Who are you?” Kid asks, and he sounds…scared? That can’t be right. But he sounds rattled, and that is enough to put Black Star back on high alert. He’s been in battle with Kid enough times to know that he’s an extremely even-tempered fighter.

Black Star almost charges ahead, but a sharp feeling from Tsubaki slows him down. He can feel through her wavelength that she’s still nervous about his injuries. And if this person is strong enough to make Kid sound like that, Black Star needs to tread lightly.

It’s not Black Star’s style, and he wants to object, but he’s leaving bloody footprints behind from where the bandage on his foot has already been soaked through. His right eye is almost entirely swollen shut now.

He reluctantly blends in with the shadows, erasing his breath.

“My name isn’t important,” comes a deep voice. “But I know yours, Death the Kid.”

From Black Star’s vantage point, he can see Kid’s expression tense. It’s not unrealistic that someone would know of Kid, he’s the son of Lord Death, but something about this man’s tone doesn’t sound like he knows Kid superficially.

A hand reaches out, and that’s about all Black Star sees before one of Kid’s arms is blown clean off.

Black Star freezes.

In all their training together, Black Star has barely been able to lay a hand on Kid. This man ripped his arm off like he was flicking lint off Kid’s suit.

“Death the Kid,” the man says as Kid falls to the ground, gasping. Black Star can hear the tinny echoes of Liz and Patti calling out for him in their weapon forms. Kid doesn’t move from where he lays.

His adversary finally comes into view. A tall, dark-skinned man with a knowing smile on his face steps from the shadows and looks down his nose at Kid.

“I know all about you, little fragment,” he says smugly. He kicks Kid roughly, flipping him onto his back with his boot. Kid is still immobile, eyes glued to where his arm used to be, hardly breathing. “I know that you value order more than anything. And that all it takes is someone ruining your symmetry to render you incapacitated.”

Liz and Patti’s cries get louder.

“Tsubaki,” Black Star hisses through gritted teeth.

“He could kill you,” Tsubaki whispers back. She sounds terrified. “You have to call for back-up.”

But she knows Black Star would never do that. And even if he did, there’d be no time. This guy could kill Kid. And he might do it now.

“Shuriken mode,” he hisses again, barely able to stop a yell from ripping out of him.

“Black Star, no.”

There’s the shuffling sound of movement and voices coming from the corridor Black Star took to get here. It’s faint, but it could be allies approaching.

But Kid still isn’t moving. His breathing is getting loud and reedy, and his eyes are wide with panic. It’s written all over his face. His symmetry. His symmetry. His symmetry. He’s not going to fight back, and right now there’s no one else around to fight for him.

The mage holds up his hand again, and when Black Star sees a glint of metal, he knows he doesn’t have time to wait.

“Black Star don’t do this—” comes from behind him, because Black Star has dropped Tsubaki to the ground.

It almost feels like he’s seeing himself from outside his body. Black Star leaps from the shadows, red-soaked bandages trailing behind him as he skids between Kid and the enemy. His arm is already cocked back, prepared to punch this asshole in the face—

But something happens. The man seems to register the situation at hand in record time. His eyes flick to the far corridor, then Black Star, then Kid, and within the span of an instant makes a choice. Lightning fast, his grip locks around Black Star’s wrist, catching his punch before he’s even finished his wind-up. Black Star hears Tsubaki scream and flinches, waiting for the pain of his own arm being blown away, but instead a shackle locks onto him.

“What the—”

The other wrist. The metal clamps down and within seconds of Black Star’s approach he’s been neatly detained. He doesn’t even have a moment to process the situation before the man holds up a piece of paper.

A symbol in the center of it glows brightly.

That’s the last thing Black Star sees before he disappears.

2. death the kid

The time that passes by feels like an eternity.

DWMA medics approach, immediately working on wrapping up Kid and preparing to ship him back the academy for surgery.

Eternity.

Kid opening his eyes post-operation, seeing Liz and Patti sitting beside him.

Eternity.

Black Star officially being declared missing in action.

Eternity.

If Kid had to describe the mood of the scene before him, he’d describe it, bafflingly, as cheerful.

DWMA students whoop and holler in the gym as the impromptu sparring tournament wages on, the losers propped up against the wall with bloody noses and cold compresses pressed to their faces while the remaining contestants re-wrap their fingers.

In one swift kick, Patti drops another adversary, Kim falling flat on her back. Patti presses a knee into her chest and grins down at her like the devil.

“Okay, okay!” Kim wheezes, still struggling to take in a full breath. “I give, God! Get off me!”

Kid can tell from her expression that Patti hoped Kim would last longer. For making it this many rounds she seemed to give up remarkably easy.

“Who’s next?!” she shouts triumphantly, which only makes the crowd gathered around the ring roar louder.

Kid slinks farther back into the crowd, lest someone ask him to participate.

He hasn’t sparred with anyone one-on-one since his last fight with Black Star. Somehow it doesn’t feel right to participate in this kind of playful tomfoolery when he thinks about the condition Black Star could be in right now.

It’s been two weeks since the attack on Baba Yaga’s Castle. Kid only got to see Black Star for but a moment, his shadow casting down on Kid as he leapt in between Kid and the mage who had blown off his arm. Kid saw the determined arch of his back, the fist he had been prepared to throw, the bloodied bandages trailing behind him like scarves, and then in the space between breaths—

He was gone.

Kid picks up the pace, leaving the gym and heading straight for the Death Room.

Lord Death has been cagey about the investigation at best. Not like Kid expected anything different from him, but for this particular case it feels especially egregious. Black Star was already so injured from his fight with Mifune. When he disappeared all he left behind was bloodied footprints in the corridors and Tsubaki’s anguished cries.

He could be anywhere right now, and everyone else is having fun?

The sound of Tsubaki’s voice causes Kid to jump a little, so caught in his own reverie he hadn’t noticed he was passing by the DWMA infirmary.

“Come on, Angela. You have to eat your food, not just play with it,” she says softly.

The adolescent witch Mifune had been guarding is now being protected by the DWMA. Every day it feels like the world is tipping a little further on its axis. Kid used to be able to keep up with these kind of changes, but now it feels like the world continues to spin while Kid is stuck in place.

“I’m saving some for Mifune!” he hears Angela call from her bed. “Will he be here soon?”

Tsubaki doesn’t miss a beat. “He won’t be coming ‘til later, so you have to eat your food by yourself, okay?”

The academy decided it was best to forego telling Angela about Mifune’s fate. With her being so young, the pull of madness caused by her magic was still a very real possibility, and telling her traumatic news like that without a safeguard prepared was too dangerous, especially considering all the other issues the DWMA was dealing with for the moment.

Angela, in all her innocence, doesn’t miss a beat.

“Should we save some for Black Star?”

Ice flows through Kid’s veins.

It takes a lot longer for Tsubaki’s response this time. Quiet and choked, she murmurs. “Your food will get cold if you wait for him. Eat what you can, okay?”

Tsubaki politely excuses herself for a moment, and Kid doesn’t have time to pull himself together before Tsubaki is hurrying out of the Infirmary and almost crashing into him.

She stops short, stumbling backwards.

Kid looks at her.

Tsubaki looks at him.

For a few moments, neither of them seem to be able to speak. Kid feels his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, struggling to put together words that he’s had two weeks to tell her and still hasn’t had the guts to. Tsubaki’s blank stare is carefully constructed, not a single bit of emotion finding its way through.

Tsubaki quietly passes him, leaving just as quickly as she came.

Shame burns through Kid. He continues walking.

He gets to the Death Room just as his father appears to be finishing up a briefing. Professor Stein and Miss Marie have returned from wherever the hell they’ve been, and in true Lord Death fashion, it seems like he’s forgiven their transgressions instantly.

Kid silently slinks into the room, taking his spot on the throne-like chair Lord Death had constructed for him for a birthday not long ago. Kid felt he needed something regal to suit his position as a shinigami. He cringes now as he sits down upon it.

They finish their briefing, believing that Justin Law is the culprit who killed Joe Butataki, a meister who had a unique Soul Perception ability that made him a human lie detector.

“We believe Justin killed BJ to prevent the DWMA from being able to interrogate captured enemies,” Stein says clinically as he lights up a cigarette. “We also believe that other meisters with similar Soul Perception abilities will become targets for Justin and the Clowns moving forward.”

“Like who?” Lord Death says, cocking his head to the side playfully.

“Me, probably,” Stein says, though he hardly looks concerned. “Maka Albarn.” Death Scythe leaps from his seat at that. “And Kid too, no doubt.”

The hollow eyes of Lord Death’s mask do not betray his emotions, if he feels anything at all.

“Well,” he says seriously, taking a breath. Kid thinks for a moment that he might actually be showing some sort of concern or serious decorum, but within an instant his voice has switched back to bright and zany. “I guess we’ll just have to be on high alert!”

Kid scoffs.

“Stein, you and Marie will remain on the case to continue looking for Justin and find out what he’s up to. Spirit, let me know if you find anymore information about Medusa’s research or the whereabouts of the Demon Sword. That will be all! Dismissed!”

They all nod and file out solemnly, leaving Kid alone with his father, who has pointedly ignored his flabbergasted expression.

“That’s it?” Kid asks, heated.

Lord Death turns to face him. “Kid! You’re so quiet I hardly noticed you come in! What is it?”

“What do you mean ‘what is it’? Are you not even looking for that mage?”

Lord Death nods solemnly like he understands where Kid is coming from. “I’m no less upset than you are about the man who hurt you, Kid, but there will be a time and a place for you take out your frustrations.”

“I don’t care about me!” Kid shouts. He waves his arms in the air to prove it. The reattachment of his arm was a success, and being a shinigami means that it was completely healed within a few days. “That man took Black Star with him! Are you even looking for him?”

Lord Death fixes him with that blank stare again. Kid expects another stupid mood shift, but for once his voice remains even.

“Like I said, Kid. There will be a time and place.”

Time and place, his ass.

It’s been a month and a half, and progress on Black Star’s case is as slow as it’s ever been.

Be reasonable, a part of Kid thinks. The DWMA has about fifty different cases open right now. The Kishin is out there somewhere, amplifying the madness of the world just with his presence alone. Medusa has escaped DWMA custody once more after taking over Arachne’s corpse. Crona is still missing. Justin Law is still at large after killing BJ. Black Star’s case is just one of many, and there’s only so many directions the academy can focus its attention without spreading its forces too thin.

But the larger part of Kid thinks FUCK reasonable.

He tears through the academy library like the perpetrator lies within the pages of the dusty books lining the shelves. Black Star’s condition is still unknown. He could be anywhere. They could be doing anything to him. That’s if he’s even alive. He rips more books from the shelves of the restricted sections and throws them on the oak desk he’s been occupying for the past several weeks.

He hates this. He could be out there searching for Black Star, doing something to help him since no one else seems to give a damn. But he doesn’t know where to look. The mage that captured him is unknown to the academy, so now here Kid is, another night at the library attacking precarious stacks of books before him like he has an agenda against them specifically.

If he could just find some iota of helpful information, he could jumpstart the investigation. But most of the witches within these texts are long dead, and any material on Medusa or Arachne is surely being safeguarded by Sid right now, as he spearheads every other mission possible besides the one to save his foster son. Kid clenches his fists, struggling against the urge to sweep all the books off the desk and scream.

He hisses through his teeth and lets his fingers creep in front of him until they collide with a disposable paper coffee cup. He takes a long drink of the tepid contents inside. It was an offering from Liz and Patti, who are allergic to quiet, stuffy libraries but wanted to show their support in his efforts. The seat across from him was occupied by Maka a few hours ago, but she had to leave to go train with Soul, probably practicing their new Death Scythe techniques.

If this was a normal day, it would be Black Star would be sitting across from him. He was always somehow finding Kid when he was in the middle of studying and doing everything humanly possible to get him to stop. He’d crunch loudly on a snack not suited for library consumption and swipe sips of Kid’s coffee when he thought he wasn’t looking. Pencil tapping, idle humming, leg jittering, he’d last maybe ten minutes before loudly complaining that whatever Kid was learning in his textbook Black Star could teach him with his fists twice as fast.

“Soul Theory: A Study of Resonance Through the Ages?” Kid asked, one of the last time Black Star found him at this very desk. “You can teach me that with fighting?”

“Pff, sure I can,” Black Star said dismissively. He’d probably never opened that textbook in his life. “All that soul theory is junk anyway. Resonance is all about trusting your partner. You don’t need to read a book to know that, right?”

And, somehow, that worked. Kid found himself being dragged from the library by the wrist, Black Star cackling like a maniac for winning the war on Kid’s studies yet again (he was currently undefeated). They ended up in the weight room wailing on one of the more heavy-duty punching bags, then switching to bare-handed combination work when Nygus yelled at them to stop damaging the equipment.

Kid threw a punch at Black Star, hard enough to slice the air. It probably would have killed a normal human, but Black Star braced himself and caught Kid’s fist, holding tightly and absorbing the impact.

“Jeez, Kid, I had no idea you were that strong!” Kilik called from the corner of the gym.

Kid ducked under one of Black Star’s swings and glanced in Kilik’s direction, where he was examining the bag that would have to be re-stuffed sometime later.

Black Star dropped his hands, turning an ugly face to Kilik. “Um, hello? Your god is right here. Where’s Black Star’s praise?”

Kilik waved him off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, we know you’re strong. But I didn’t know Kid was so good at hand-to-hand! Why don’t you do more close combat fighting, Kid? I know the Thompsons are guns, but if you wanted, you could practice with Fire and Thunder for a bit, just to see how it feels.”

Kid didn’t know what to say. He’d never trade in his partners for someone else’s, but he appreciated Kilik’s compliment and his offer. He was about to tell him so when Black Star butted in.

“You wanna know why Kid doesn’t do close combat? I’ll show ya.”

In a blink he was at Kid’s side. Kid put up his fists to block, so focused on an oncoming attack he wasn’t mentally prepared for Black Star pinching the sleeve of his shirt at the elbow and neatly ripping it off in one swift motion.

Kid fell to the floor instantly, eyes full of tears.

Black Star cackled.

“See? When Kid gets in close with an enemy, he runs the risk of getting his symmetry all screwed up.”

“Ohhh, so that’s why he fights with Liz and Patti.”

“That’s why he has me,” Black Star said confidently. “I do all the dirty work so Kid can focus on the battle. It’s simple stuff, really.” Black Star rubbed his nose smugly.

Kilik nodded. “I guess when you put it like that, you guys make a pretty good Resonance Team.”

Black Star snorted. “’Course we do. Any team with me on it is the best, after all.” He turned to Kid, who hadn’t stopped weeping in the fetal position during the entire exchange. “You wanna go get lunch? I’m starved.”

Kid’s crying continued.

Black Star rolled his eyes. He bent down and grabbed the other sleeve, ripping it more carefully to ensure it matched the first.

Kid’s crying stopped.

“Lunch?” Black Star asked again, standing up to his full height and reaching a grabby hand towards Kid.

Kid can still remember the warmth of that hand, and the warmth of that statement.

It’s simple stuff, really.

But it wasn’t. Kid was the most powerful meister at the DWMA. He didn’t advertise that he had such a glaringly obvious weakness. In fact, he’d gone so far as to never articulate it, which made it all the more meaningful that Black Star had so easily clocked it and always covered Kid without a second thought. Even during their battle for Brew, when Mosquito came barreling towards Kid, Black Star was there in an instant, taking the brunt of the damage. He’d pushed himself to the limit with the Uncanny Sword, all to keep Mosquito’s eyes on him. When Kid launched that final attack, it felt like a victory for both of them, with Kid emerging unscathed while Black Star could hardly stand.

But in turn, that memory always bumped into an uglier one. Not a sleeve, but an arm ripped from its socket, laying limp on the cobbled castle floor before him. It must have hurt, but Kid couldn’t even recall the pain. It was the asymmetry. The imbalance had him spiraling. It wasn’t a sleeve that time. He couldn’t be re-balanced in that moment, and he was going to be killed. Kid had been so certain of it, lying there on the ground, watching that menacing hand reach for him.

See? When Kid gets in close with an enemy, he runs the risk of getting his symmetry all screwed up.

It was going to be the end of him, and that’s all there was to it. It’s simple stuff, really. The trait that made him Death the Kid going to be his downfall, and in a way that seemed fitting.

In his shock, he barely saw Black Star leap between him and the mage. Kid only saw Black Star’s battered silhouette for one heart-stopping moment before he was gone.

And now Kid sits here, in the quiet library, waiting for someone to disturb his peace like always. But Black Star isn’t here.

Kid hangs his head low, the text on the dusty book before him beginning to blur. He rubs his eyes and slams the book shut.

This one-man search is running Kid ragged. He’s been at it for days—weeks, even—and his search is yielding no results.

If Kid thought sleep would help, it doesn’t. Probably because sleep hardly comes. He lays in his bed at the Gallows Mansion and stares at the ceiling bitterly, waiting for rest to wash over him, but his eyes stay stubbornly open.

It’s not like it would do him much good anyway. His dreams are often occupied by Black Star. Finding him too late, dead. Finding him on time, but he’s angry at Kid. Seeing the curl of his lip as he looks at Kid, just like the last time he saw him, the last proper time, when Black Star had come up to him and picked a fight with him in the DWMA courtyard after defiling the academy’s symmetry once again. There was a darkness growing within Black Star that Kid had been pointedly ignoring for some time, and when it all came to a hilt Kid pounded him into the ground, which only seemed to make matters worse.

Kid dreams of that too.

It seems unfair that, as a shinigami, he isn’t able to use his godly powers to control the narrative of his dreams. What’s the point of having all this power if he can’t even will his unconscious mind to draw up Black Star’s smile?

He gives up. There’s no point in lying here if nothing is going to happen. He leaps off his bed, stalking to the corner of the room and flicking the light switch, letting the ornate chandelier in the center of the room illuminate the endless night. Liz and Patti are in their rooms down the hall, so he doesn’t bother waking them. Someone around here should get some rest, even if it can’t be him.

His father won’t be home, but he doesn’t expect him to be. It’s a rare occasion to see Lord Death hover down the halls of the Gallows Mansion, and frankly it’s kind of creepy when he does. Kid can’t remember the last time he’s seen his father sleep. Has he ever slept? Would Kid know if he had?

It doesn’t matter.

He goes to his backpack and pulls out one of the offending books from the library. He has a clearer head now, exhausted as he feels. He was just reading up on Eibon, the magic user Kid and his friends saw during the Battle for Brew. He’s one of the few recorded mages in history powerful enough capture an Ancient One, someone like Lord Death, and imprison them in a place where they would be undetected. Lord Death claims Eibon has been dead for hundreds of years, but maybe someone is using one of his techniques to remain hidden from the DWMA?

Kid rubs his eyes, and jots down frantic notes about Eibon to ask his father the next time he sees him. He looks at the clock. Three a.m. He wonders what horrible dream will await him when he finally falls asleep. A good memory, he pleads with his brain as he feels his eyelids begin to droop. He folds his arms on his desk for a moment and rests his head on them. He turns his face and looks at his bed, blinking slowly. He knows he should get up, walk the couple feet to his mattress and fall into the nothingness, but his eyes linger on the edge of his bedframe.

It was the last place he saw Black Star smile, before everything turned to shit…

“Me and Tsubaki were thinking about leaving for a bit,” Black Star said seriously. Kid stopped his meticulous work and snapped his head to attention. “Taking a trip to Japan, maybe.”

It was a typical night for the two of them. Tsubaki and the Thompsons were having a Girls Night back at Black Star’s apartment, leaving the boys to themselves at the Gallows Mansion. Boys Night was supposed to be serious. Kid and Black Star had an upcoming Meister Exam they should’ve been studying for, and Kid had gravely promised to tutor Black Star. They’d donned their pajamas, Black Star in a muscle tank and shorts, and Kid in a silk black matched button-down set, and cracked open their books for all of 15 seconds before Kid saw Black Star’s dog-eared and crumpled book and promptly had a meltdown about it.

So there they were, Black Star was doing 800 elevated one-armed push-ups, while Kid had pulled the binding from Black Star’s textbook and was now painstakingly ironing each of the pages with a steamer. He placed each leaf of paper under a towel on the ironing board before him and pressed the iron down on them, then delicately stacked them beside him.

Kid looked at Black Star, where he hadn’t stopped working out, lowering his body to the floor in even, measured reps.

“You’re leaving?” Kid asked, doing his best to sound curious instead of concerned. “What, like on a sabbatical?”

“What? No. Just like, a vacation. Kind of. So we can learn more about her weapon form.”

Kid rolled his eyes. “Black Star, you just described a sabbatical.”

“Whatever, man.”

Kid nodded. He felt a little better, knowing there was a reason behind Black Star’s sudden decision to leave. He’d felt…off lately. The past couple battles they’d been in had resulted in losses. Kid had read Black Star’s file before, he knew that he and Tsubaki only had a handful of souls to their names, but for some reason those recent losses seemed to have been weighing on Black Star more heavily than others.

Kid picked up another page of Black Star’s textbook and placed it under the towel. “Are you going to Japan to meet Tsubaki’s family?” He clicked the steam button several times.

Black Star slowed down his reps slightly. “Yeah. Figured they might be able to help. She says they’re good people. They might know something about the Uncanny Sword that we don’t. Maybe it’ll help me conquer it.”

“Seems like a good idea to me,” Kid said, lifting a corner of the towel to peek at the page. Still a tad wrinkled. He also took a peek at Black Star, whose expression was similarly crumpled. “So why do you seem nervous?”

“Who says I’m nervous?” Black Star snapped defensively, lip curled.

Kid’s eyebrows shot up.

When Black Star saw his expression, he looked apologetic. He pulled his feet from the edge of the mattress and sat on the floor against the bedframe. “Fine. Maybe I’m feeling off.” He scratched the back of his head and looked at the floor. “The last time Tsubaki and I went to Japan didn’t go well. The Star Clan wreaked a lot of havoc there. They’re not exactly my biggest fans.”

The fingers of his left hand crawled up his right arm, unconsciously covering his tattoo.

“It feels like everything I do is attached to him, somehow. Like even when I do good things, it doesn’t make up for what he did.”

Kid would never say it aloud, but he liked this side of Black Star. It didn’t come out often, and normally when it did, he was in a bad mood, but there was something intriguing about quiet, pensive Black Star. Kid had never needed to ask Black Star his feelings before. Any other day he’d already be scaling a building to shout them to the entire world. But the dip in his eyebrows were a foreign language that Kid longed to be fluent in. At that moment, he could only guess what thoughts were swirling through Black Star’s head.

“You want your good deeds to balance out his bad ones? That sounds—”

Black Star groaned. “Don’t say ‘like symmetry—’”

Kid met his eyes. “I was going to say ‘unfair.’”

That stopped Black Star short.

Kid put down his iron and sat on the floor by Black Star. The pages could wait.

“You aren’t your father, Black Star. You shouldn’t compare yourself to him.”

Black Star scoffed. “Like you don’t?”

Kid opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. It doesn’t matter if your parents are gods or murderers. People look at you and can’t help but think of them. Of what you should be.”

Kid understood. He’d spent his whole life being “Lord Death’s son.” Human adults looked at him reverently, knowing the power he held despite his youthful appearance. The students at the DWMA looked at him with envy, seeing how accomplished he was as a meister while hardly trying. Even when Black Star first met him, his first thought was to attack him and test his strength.

“It’s different for me, though,” Kid said. “No one wants you to be like your father. For me, people don’t just want me to be like mine, it’s expected.” This wasn’t where he anticipated this conversation to go, but once it came out, he surprised himself with the emotion packed in the statement. “I will be Lord Death one day. And everyone assumes I’ll be just like him. But I’m not.”

He spun a skull shaped ring on his right index finger. Then the one on his left.

“No one understands my need for balance. They think I’ll grow out of it one day, and maybe I will. But I don’t want to. It feels like what I was made for, somehow.”

He clasped his hands together tightly.

“But no one understands it.”

“Well, can’t you just be a shinigami that focuses on balance? That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Kid stopped the tremor that threatened to run through him at how much he wanted it. How much he craved to be allowed to act the way he desired without being shamed for it. It was a thought no one ever allowed him to entertain. It was always stop being so neurotic, Kid. Pull yourself together, Kid. You’ll never be anything if you keep acting this way, Kid. Black Star might have been one of the few people that didn’t talk to him that way, in fact.

But it didn’t change who he was.

Kid slumped heavily against the bedframe beside Black Star. “I can long for order all I want. But when it comes down to it, my name is Death too.”

Black Star matched his pose, staring forlornly at the ceiling. “Guess we’re both fucked, then.”

Kid closed his eyes and let a breath out of his nose, close to a laugh.

There was something comforting about Black Star relating to his shinigami problems. Or, perhaps more specifically, being related to at all. Kid thought he’d gotten so used to being separate from humanity. For the majority of his life, he’d been told that he wasn’t like the people he would be serving one day. Being able to relate to Black Star proved that Kid might not be as “other” as he had been led to believe.

Kid thought about how otherworldly Lord Death—his own father— felt, even to him, and cringed at the thought that this moment might one day feel like a distant memory. Being shoulder to shoulder with Black Star in their pajamas, commiserating about their parents like two teenage boys afraid of growing up. What would it feel like, when he’s Lord Death one day? Would Black Star feel further away? Would it feel like that moment minutes ago, when Black Star said he’d be leaving? His stomach swooped again at the thought of it.

He wanted to revel in it. This closeness. He leaned heavily to his left, knocking shoulders with Black Star. The warmth of his skin against Kid’s was comforting. The contact was familiar.

“I’m sure the others feel like that too. Maka feels pressure because of her parents, surely.”

Black Star bore the weight of Kid easily, not bothering to push him away.

“Yeah, but the difference is Maka loves her parents, despite how she acts.” Black Star said matter-of-factly. Kid felt inclined to agree.

How Black Star felt about his father went without saying. He turned a little to face Kid. “Do you love your old man?”

It stopped Kid short. Kid chewed on the question for a while. He wasn’t sure.

They weren’t particularly affectionate with one another. He’d hardly even felt the desire to spend time with his father as of late. Maybe it was just because he finally had other friends. He had Liz and Patti, partners who loved him and complemented him better than anyone else in the world. He had Soul and Maka, who always treated him so warmly, inviting him to their apartment for tea and gossip like any other student. He had Stein and Miss Marie and Sid, authority figures that treated him like a child instead of a prince. And he had…

He looked at Black Star quickly, then looked away.

“I don’t know,” he said, answering Black Star’s question. “Maybe shinigamis love differently than humans do. He always feels so far away. I can never guess what he’s feeling.”

“Well,” Black Star said softly, shifting a little. His fingers twitched, brushing against Kid’s. “That sounds pretty human to me.”

Maybe that’s what this feeling was. Humanity. Kid didn’t want to let go of it. The comfort of being surrounded by humans, of being treated as fallible. Of being protected. Of being loved. As a shinigami, he was taught not to expect any of these things, and Kid was afraid of going back to that kind of coldness.

His fingers gripped Black Star’s, a hand almost as familiar to Kid as his own partners’.

This is what I want to hold on to, he thought. This is the sort of feeling that doesn’t require balance.

When he turned and leaned in to Black Star, he expected to see surprise on his face, but it wasn’t there. The look in his eyes was inviting and calm, that quiet part of Black Star that so few got to see. His soul was spiking nervously, but Kid imagined that in this moment his probably looked the same. It didn’t stop him from leaning in. Kid tilted his face to the side, nose brushing up against Black Star’s, feeling his breath on his cheek and marveling at how good it felt. He didn’t want to rush it, but he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather do. Their lips just barely grazed each other when—

Black Star jerked away like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on him.

Kid leaned back, panting.

The moment felt peaceful just a second ago, but now Black Star was skittering away on the floor before leaping to his feet and pacing across the room.

“Is something wrong?” Kid asked, stupidly. Clearly something was wrong, but he didn’t know what.

“No,” Black Star said, clearly lying. “I mean. It’s just—I can’t—” He folded his arms behind his head and turned away. Kid couldn’t see his face, but at that moment, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

Black Star took a shaky breath. “It’s just too much, you know?”

Rejection washed through Kid, cold and sharp. It was not usual for him to feel like he was too much. Plenty of people couldn’t handle Kid; they’d even told him to his face. He just never expected one of those people to be Black Star.

His fingers felt numb as he twisted the ring on his right index finger, then the one on the left.

“Right,” he agreed quietly. “As I said, my heart is different. Maybe shinigamis just feel differently than humans do.”

Kid wakes with a sudden start.

Of course, his mind would conjure up the worst sort of dream. He hadn’t thought about that for months. It was too painful to think about the sweetness of that moment, the bright hopefulness Kid felt as he’d leaned in toward Black Star, right before he pulled away. Black Star had left not long after that, and something about Kid’s room has felt haunted with the memory ever since.

Kid gets up, dresses in his suit, and leaves the Gallows Mansion. He can’t stay here, not with that memory lingering in his mind, not with the hollow silence of the mansion pressing down on him. Death City is most alive at nighttime, so Kid walks toward the city, hoping the bustling sound of night life will help clear his head.

Clubs boom with bass-heavy music, and Kid side-steps around tipsy humans stumbling down the street. It’s the sort of fun he’s never been familiar with, but the people look happy all the same. Humans put their bodies through so much just for a few hours of forgetfulness, and in this moment, Kid can’t blame them.

Unconsciously, his body marches him right toward Death Weapon Meister Academy. Even when he’s trying to avoid harsh memories, he seems to lead himself right to them.

Kid sighs and begins to climb the staircase.

The academy has always been like a second home to him. Being Lord Death’s son means the DWMA was always his playground. He’s roamed this campus more than all the students and teachers combined. It wasn’t until a few years ago, when his father told him of his duty to one day take over as the world’s Lord Death, that Kid had stopped stalking the halls of the academy and confined himself to the Death Room with his father. He’d had that silly throne built, convinced that he needed a proper place to perch for when he eventually ruled over death. He’d sat and observed his father’s actions for years, until the day he’d watched an extra lesson with a group of students almost get them killed.

Kid shakes his head.

God, it was always Black Star. His mind couldn’t conjure up anything else lately. Even from the beginning, the idea to join the academy at all was because he’d seen Stein use his wavelength to electrocute Black Star. The cruelty of the supposed “lesson” had Kid leaping to his feet, ready to break through the mirror and help him. It had always been Black Star.

Even if he didn’t feel the same way.

Kid reaches the top of the colossal staircase. The last place he’d spoken to Black Star.

After Black Star left that night, Kid had no idea where he went. He thought of using his Soul Perception to look for him in the city, but had respected Black Star’s need for space. He let him leave the Gallows Mansion in a frustrated huff. As much as Kid wanted to try and smooth things over somehow, he wouldn’t have known what to say. That he was sorry? That he took it back?

If Kid had a choice, he probably would have spent the next week avoiding eye contact with Black Star after his failed attempt at connection. But Black Star never did what people wanted him to do.

He cornered Kid in one of the classrooms the following day, a mean glint in his eye that had left Kid reeling when he commanded Kid to come outside. Kid followed him soundlessly, expecting perhaps a second round of rejection, and instead witnessed Black Star lightly walk to the end of that right spike and slam his fist down. Kid watched the spike crash down into the courtyard below, not understanding what was going on until Black Star challenged him to a fight.

And maybe Kid had been too harsh. But the hurt that had built up inside him over the past day was making his fists itch, and if Black Star wanted a way to take out his problems, Kid wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. It’s not like Black Star cared if he hurt him, so why should Kid give a shit?

It was symmetry, obviously. For every painful pulse of Kid’s heart, he laid into Black Star, not caring about his turmoil. Even when the fight was decidedly over, Kid placed a foot on the back of his head and smashed him into the ground, a crater forming around them both from the impact.

Weak.

None of Kid’s blows would have had a lasting effect on Black Star. But that one word would.

It was petty, and maybe a little mean, but it worked. Kid had won the fight, and he felt no better than he did when the day had started.

And yet somehow, when all the chips were down, it was Black Star who saved him from that mage in Baba Yaga’s Castle. The unsteady beating of Kid’s heart quickens at the thought of it. His arm, lying in a pool of blood in front of him. His body, frozen in place from the imbalance. That hand, reaching for him, to capture him, to kill him, to prove Kid’s glaring weakness would always be his downfall.

And somehow, Black Star was there. Kid didn’t even know he’d returned from Japan, but suddenly he was in front of him, saving him when Kid had been nothing but cruel to him the last time they spoke.

It’s simple stuff, really. Black Star had once said.

That’s why he has me.

Kid’s vision blurs as he looks at that spike. From where he stands, no one would ever be able to tell that a ninja had destroyed it.

Weak.

The only weak person here is Kid.

Kid’s equilibrium has always been impeccable. That’s not the reason he’s swaying right now, as he takes slow and measured steps to the edge of the red spike. It’s not the height either, though the courtyard at the summit of the DWMA’s colossal staircase lies 50 feet below him. But he feels himself swaying all the same, the heavy mallet in his grip pulsing like its alive. It’s a dead thing, a normal inanimate tool, but the potential destruction lying within it is the same as any weapon student at this academy.

As the sun rises, Kid walks toward the tip of the decorative spike. Through his blurred vision he can just make out the heavy duty bolts he had hammered into it but a few months ago. The neat lines of melted solder is his handiwork as well, bringing out a soldering gun Kid purchased with his own funds to reattach the spike that Black Star had cruelly destroyed for a second time.

Maybe symmetry had always been Kid’s problem. If this was the one way he could prove to himself that he didn’t need it, maybe it would change something. Maybe Black Star’s investigation would finally become important, maybe Kid’s research would finally be fruitful, maybe the hollow feeling in his chest would finally stop gaping wider and wider, the guilt clawing at the edges of the cavity painfully.

Kid raises the mallet.

Symmetry doesn’t matter. Order isn’t important. Kid is a god, he will not be held down—held back—by such insignificant notions anymore. He rears the mallet back, not acknowledging how his hands shake, how his eyes sting, because that doesn’t matter. He will destroy this stupid, decorative spike and prove once and for all that he isn’t a liability.

It’s simple stuff, really.

It’s not. He doesn’t need protection, he doesn’t to be saved. He’s Death the fucking Kid, he just needs to bring this stupid mallet down—

His breath hitches high, his shoulders going numb.

He just needs to bring this stupid mallet down—

He just needs to—

He just—

“Kid?”

Kid hauls in a gasp. The spike shakes, the even vibrations of footsteps quickly approaching. Someone is pulling the mallet gently from his grip, fingers closing around his shoulders and pulling him back toward solid ground. Kid can hardly see through his tears.

“Kid?” Tsubaki says again.

“I’m sorry,” he lets out, before falling to pieces.

He’s not sure how long he cries for. Tsubaki, in all her gentle patience, holds him through all of it, pressing his face into her shoulder, though she must loathe him. Kid sure does, so he can’t see why Tsubaki wouldn’t. It makes him cry harder, to think that in all of this he hasn’t thought of her feelings. He’s been so caught up in his own grief he’s barely had time to think about how hard these last few months has been on her, how the soul she was so intrinsically connected to is gone.

But she holds him tightly, her arms a warm and comforting embrace, her fingers gently combing through his hair as his sobs taper off into pathetic hiccups.

“I’m sorry,” he tries again, but it’s just as weak as before.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks earnestly. “And what were you even doing up there?”

Kid tries his best to explain. Between stuttering breaths and continuously swallowing down the lump in his throat, Kid tells her how this whole thing, this whole stupid mess is his fault. How he tried to fix it, tried to fix him, by intentionally destroying.

Tsubaki looks shocked at that. “You were destroying the symmetry of the academy? Why would you punish yourself like that?”

Kid has nothing to say to that. The answer is clear.

“Kid? Kid look at me.” With effort, Kid does. It’s the most eye contact he’s made with her in months. The cavern in his heart grows wider.

She lays a hand on his cheek. “This isn’t your fault.”

Kid jerks away bitterly. “Even you don’t believe that.”

It takes a moment before she responds again. Tsubaki takes a deep breath.

“You’re right.”

Kid’s eyes cut to hers.

Tsubaki’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You’re right. Part of me thinks it’s your fault. I haven’t been able to speak to you this whole time because I didn’t want to say it.”

Kid nods. It’s what he deserves to hear. He lets his heart crumble, the emptiness feeling all consuming—

But Tsubaki grips his hands in hers, hard.

“But Black Star doesn’t think that.”

Kid’s voice is small. “What?”

Tsubaki rubs her thumbs over Kid’s knuckles. “I know my partner better than anyone. Black Star would never for a second blame you for the predicament he’s in now. It was his choice to jump between you and that man. And he didn’t do it because you were too weak,” Tsubaki says with a sad smile. “He did it because he’s Black Star. He’d never willingly stand aside if you were going to be hurt. That’s just the kind of person he is.”

The pressure inside of Kid lightens, just a little bit.

“He’s an idiot,” Kid says, mirroring Tsubaki’s sad smile.

A little laugh escapes her. “I know that better than anyone, too.” She swings their hands between them gently. “So, if you can forgive my partner for being an idiot and getting himself into trouble, you can forgive yourself too, right? Neither of you can help who you are.”

The smile stays on Kid’s face until that last part. But what she said has helped him. He’s made his mind up.

“You’re right, Tsubaki,” he says, feeling more sure of himself than he has all day.

He can’t help who he is.

Kid marches into the Death Room, set on finally having an honest talk with his father. He’s waited long enough for the nebulous “time and place” to rescue Black Star. If Lord Death himself wasn’t going to spearhead the search, Kid would do it himself.

At least, that was the conversation he planned on having. But instead of finding his father sitting idly at his tea table, when Kid enters the Death Room, he sees, of all things, a party.

Raucous music thumps through the chamber. There are three scantily clad Chupa Cabra’s employees distributing booze to Spirit Albarn, Professor Stein, and Miss Marie. Even his father holds a cup, liquid sloshing over the side as he raises his arm with the others in a hearty cheer. For some reason, Maka and Soul are here too, standing a few paces back, looking just as baffled as Kid and Tsubaki.

Kid feels like he walked into another dimension.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Lord Death tips his head back to look around Spirit, whose tie is wound around his head like a headband.

“Kid! Perfect timing! Come join the party!”

The party.

The

party.

The low-hanging misty clouds in the Death Room start to darken.

“Kid?”

His father’s silly voice comes out confused. Like he couldn’t possibly gather why this joyous celebration of life might not be appropriate, given the situation. All of the situations.

“Is now really the time, Father?” Kid asks, voice low.

“Come, sit down, have some food! I was just going to tell—”

“No,” Kid says.

Thunder claps loudly. The whole room flinches. Kid doesn’t care.

“I’m going to tell you something. Your nonchalance for the past few months has been shameful. One of your students was kidnapped on one of your missions, and you’ve done nothing for him. And now you audaciously throw a party when the GOD OF MADNESS is bringing the world to ruin, something else that YOU CAUSED—”

The thunder bellows again, and when lightning flashes across the Death Room, all the inhabitants instinctively duck.

Lord Death stands up and hovers over Kid at his full height, the soulless eyes of his mask looking down at him intimidatingly.

“Kid, stop.”

And for once, he doesn’t use his silly voice.

Kid doesn’t back down, but he takes a deep, slow breath. The clouds in the Death Room dissipate, and the room slowly starts to brighten. Kid looks at his father.

Lord Death’s voice is calm. He reaches a large, gloved hand backwards. Maka steps forward gingerly and places a thick white book in his over-sized palm.

“We were celebrating because—” he holds the book out to Kid “—we found him.”

Kid gasps.

Like flicking on a light, the Chupa Cabra employee’s souls light up, powerful magic radiating from them. Kid blinks at the realization. They’ve released Soul Protect. They’re witches.

None of the other meisters in the room look surprised. Stein and Sid watch the women carefully, and Maka’s eyes are on the book in Lord Death’s hands, guilt clouding her expression.

Lord Death ignores everyone else’s reactions, eyes boring into Kid’s and Kid’s only.

“We found Black Star. Extraction begins tomorrow.”

3. black star

It takes Black Star longer than it probably should to realize what’s happened to him.

He remembers Baba Yaga’s Castle. He remembers Kid’s panic, his arm splattering to the floor, a few feet from the rest of him. He remembers a menacing hand, reaching for him once more, this time with the intent to do much worse than remove an arm. He remembers running. And then--?

He shakes his head a little, the movement causing a loud clanking sound above his head. The sound stirs his memory a bit more, and as his thoughts start to clear his senses return to him. There’s an awkward stretch to his arms, his shoulders rotated uncomfortably. His pulse pounds in his ears. And he feels heavy.

Finally, Black Star peels his eyes open.

This doesn’t look like Baba Yaga’s Castle.

It’s darker than he expected. He’s in a large room, or at least he assumes it’s a room. Beneath his feet is a dusty black and white tiled floor, and before him he sees an ornate table and a matching set of chairs. When he cranes his neck he can see a high vaulted ceiling above him, but even when he squints into the darkness beyond the table set, he can’t make out the opposing wall that must be there. The only light in the room comes from somewhere behind him. A stained-glass window shines a colored pattern on the tiled floor.

Black Star himself seems to be suspended in the middle of the room. The shackles that were slapped on his wrists moments ago (when was that? Minutes ago? Hours? How long was he out?) are still on him, now attached to a long chain hanging from the ceiling. Black Star’s arms have been yanked above his head, so here he hangs, his bare and bandaged feet just barely able to touch the floor. How the hell did he get here?

“Hello?” Black Star croaks into the empty air. He grimaces at the sound of his own voice, clears his throat and tries again. “HELLO?”

Nothing.

Where the hell is he? How long was he out?

“HELLOOOOO? ANYBODY HOME?” he shouts, his voice stretching and echoing in the dimly lit chamber.

A hard blow to his back, right between his shoulder blades, alerts Black Star that he is not alone in this room. The breath he just sucked in to prepare for another shout is abruptly punched out of him. Black Star flounders for a moment before pulling in a gasp.

“Silence, captive! You’re disturbing Noah-sama’s peace!” his assailant says, squeaky and irritated.

“Who the fuck are you?” Black Star growls.

A boy not much older than Black Star, with slicked back hair and an impressive frown comes into view.

“My name is no concern of yours, captive,” he says.

A much more intimidating voice speaks next. “So your name is of no concern, but you dare to speak mine?”

The boy shivers, his upper half snapping downward into a deep bow.

“I deeply apologize, Noah-sama!”

A dark hand reaches out and strikes the boy abruptly on the back of the head. His bow deepens. It’s that hand that has Black Star on alert. This is the man who hurt Kid with a single touch. He twists in his restraints, pulling his hands apart and testing the strength of the iron when—

“AUGHH!!!”

A shock like a bolt of lightning runs through Black Star.

He hangs limply for a moment, panting. The pain surprised him so much that he doesn’t have the energy to cower when Noah steps into his line of sight. Through the haze of pain Black Star eyes him, a tall, dark-skinned man in a military cap and black jacket. His clothing doesn’t hold Black Star’s attention though. All he can fixate on is the smug grin on his face.

“Do you like your restraints? I made them myself.”

Black Star grits his teeth.

“No? A shame. They’re a fine creation. A bona fide Magic Tool worthy of Eibon himself.” He paces around Black Star, just out of his line of vision. Try as he might to twist his neck to look over his shoulder, the angle of Black Star’s arms above his head limits his range of moment. Noah’s deep voice continues to speak somewhere behind him. “Unfortunately, those cuffs were not meant for you. You’re an unexpected complication to my plans.”

Black Star doesn’t like the sound of that. An “unexpected complication” sounds a lot like “collateral damage.” He can’t see the man’s hands. He has no way to block him if Noah touches him.

“You see,” he continues calmly. “There was a certain person I was expecting to add to my collection. A god, if you will.”

Kid.

Black Star twists again, trying to track Noah’s movements.

“And I was this close to having him in my grasp. That is until someone—”

Suddenly he’s in front of Black Star, fist rearing back. Black Star lifts his legs up, forcing himself to hang heavily from his restraints to protect himself, but Noah reacquaints Black Star with his superhuman speed, easily connecting his fist to Black Star’s stomach before his knees can guard his core. The blow is so much worse than his servant’s last hit. Black Star swings back on his restraints, almost perpendicular with the ground, before heavily flopping back down, his full weight snapping against the place where his wrists touch the cuffs.

“—decided to take his place. It was very rude of you to ruin my plans, boy.”

It takes a moment for Black Star to even remember how to cough, much less breathe. He rasps out a dry breath, surprising himself that he hasn’t thrown up. His restraints clank together loudly for several long moments, until Black Star finally stops swinging.

Noah looks down his nose at Black Star like he’s an insect needing to be squashed.

“Now I have to decide what to do with you.”

“Kill him, Noah-sama. We have no need for him,” the younger boy calls petulantly.

“Silence, Gopher,” Noah snaps, rearing back to look at the boy. Gopher cowers in fear yet again.

Noah turns his attention back to Black Star. “My insulant servant makes a point,” he says to Black Star, continuing his slow pacing once more. “I have no need for humans in my collection. I’m aiming my attention much higher.”

Black Star’s blood boils at the insinuation of his own weakness. Against his better judgement, he speaks up. “You think I’m not worth keeping around? I’m not just a human. I’m the man who will defeat GOD,” he says with his whole chest.

Noah’s eyebrows rise in surprise, hidden under the shadow of his cap. “Oh?”

He rears back his fist again. Black Star knew speaking out of turn would have consequences, but if this man was going to kill him anyway, the least Black Star could do was not be a fucking wimp about it. He braces himself for the blow—

But it never comes.

Noah’s fist stops centimeters from his face, the veins popping in his arms from restraint.

He lowers his arm slowly. “You think you will defeat God?”

Black Star spits at his feet, a small bit of blood mixed into his saliva. “I know I will.”

Noah appraises him. His silence is just as intimidating as his yelling. Black Star does his best not to wince or tense just feeling Noah’s gaze fall on him. Something in Noah’s expression changes, like the flip of a switch, from intensity to calm neutrality.

A small flame lights inside of Black Star. Maybe this man won’t kill him.

Suddenly, that all-encompassing electric current runs through his body again, a cobra strike of unadulterated pain.

Black Star screams. It only lasts a moment, but it’s just as powerful as the first time, and just as surprising. All of Black Star’s nerve endings feel fried.

Black Star cracks open an eyelid he barely remembers closing, and when his vision clears, he sees Noah’s face, directly in front of his.

“You think you will defeat God.” A smug grin splits his face in two as he watches Black Star tremble. Black Star can feel Noah’s breath on his face as whispers with a vindictive kind of glee. “You can’t even get yourself out of those cuffs.”

Black Star lunges at him, but is stopped short by his restraints.

When the shock rips through his body this time, he expects it.

Black Star is left alive, but only just.

He’s not sure where he is, but it doesn’t seem like the reality he’s used to. He hasn’t had a crumb of food or a drop to water in what feels like days, but somehow, he’s still kicking.

And kicking he is, aiming a wild shot at Gopher, the servant boy who seems to have been tasked with watching over him while Noah is away. Black Star isn’t close enough to make contact unless he swings back on his cuffs to give him more leverage. His wrists have been rubbed raw a long time ago, and it hurts like a motherfucker to do so, but Black Star opts to swing anyway.

He clips him with his foot, probably not hard enough to hurt, but he rocks back a little in surprise. It makes him mad, which is the real goal.

“Quit it!” he shouts, sounding like a child trying to appeal to an older sibling to stop bullying him. All of his tough-guy bravado seems to evaporate the second Noah leaves, which is interesting, since he’s a submissive little bitch the second Noah opens his mouth around him anyway.

“Make me,” Black Star says with a laugh. It’s easier to feel optimistic when the freak mage is away. Noah has opted not to kill Black Star—for now—saying that he’s using him as experimentation for the cuffs. All’s well for Black Star, who spends his time optimistically tormenting his guard. He doesn’t have to figure out the cuffs. That sounds like a Maka job, maybe a Stein one. His mind skirts off Kid’s name and swoops away from it, not wanting to think about Kid too hard. Last time Black Star saw him he was down one arm. Even if they did manage to patch Kid up to make him ready for a rescue mission, the last time they spoke to each other…

Whatever. Black Star elects not to think about it. He taunts Gopher in the meantime, knowing rescue will come soon.

A shock wave hits his body again, hard and fast. Black Star grits his teeth, shaking his arms in frustration. The chains above him clang together, taunting him.

“Ha!” Gopher mocks gleefully, now a safe distance away from Black Star. He sits on the table and stares at Black Star. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

The pain doesn’t go away once the cuffs stop shocking him. His whole body retains the sting. Every skin cell, every strand of hair, every muscle, every bone. It takes more effort than he’d like to admit to appear unaffected, but Black Star tries. He won’t let this coward see him down.

“Don’t have to be cocky to know I’m stronger than you,” Black Star says, his voice hoarse. His vocal chords get fried too, and god forbid these people give him water. “That’s not ego talking; it’s a fact.”

Black Star doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone frown so aggressively. Maybe Kid, when Soul sacrificed the Gallows Mansion décor as punishment during a game of pick-up basketball. When Soul said they’d move all the picture frames 2 centimeters if their team lost, Kid looked like he’d been shot. But even that hilarious expression has nothing on this guy.

Gopher stands up suddenly—on top of the table, of all places—and holds his arms out wide. Before Black Star can ask what the hell he’s doing, Gopher is jumping high, and inky black wings are shooting from his back and gliding him right towards Black Star. He gets a fist to his face for his smart mouth, and in one smooth motion Gopher has glided back to the table and landed lightly on his feet.

The whole thing lasted maybe 3 seconds.

His frown is replaced by a cocky grin, which looks wrong on his face, like his facial muscles aren’t used to turning his mouth upwards.

“Impressed now, captive?”

Finally, some entertainment.

Black Star spits out a bit of blood.

“Not even a little bit.”

It goes on like that for a while. Black Star taunting Gopher, Gopher taking out his inadequate fighting prowess on Black Star, rinse, repeat. Maybe Black Star shouldn’t be goading the enemy on, but he’s fought toddlers stronger than this guy, and it keeps things interesting. It’s better than hanging here, alone with his thoughts.

That’s a much more dangerous game. Because then his mind begins to wander.

How many days has it been?

How long until someone comes looking for him?

Is Tsubaki doing okay without him?

How is Kid’s arm? Is he recovering okay?

Has the search party already started?

Are they mad at him for getting caught?

Is anyone taking care of Angela?

Does Kid still hate him because of their last fight?

When will help come?

It’s exhausting. Black Star doesn’t like wallowing in his self-pity, but being stuck here has given him plenty of wallowing time. Just when he thought he was getting over that hump, passing through the storm that had been raging in his mind, he finds himself kidnapped and waiting for rescue. Another feather to add to the Black Star dunce cap.

It’s not that he hasn’t tried freeing himself. Gopher isn’t always around, and he hasn’t seen Noah since that first day. (How many days has it been?) When Black Star isn’t being watched by that brat he goes to work, using all the strength he can muster to twist his hands back and forth in their shackles, to push and pull and push and pull like he might be wriggle out or weaken his bonds somehow.

But whenever Black Star feels he’s making progress, his sweaty hand dipping a little lower in the cuff or the metal groaning a tiny bit under his force, a blast of electric energy ripples through his entire body, like it’s a lightning bolt designated to strike right when Black Star’s hope is at its peak.

The shock always takes him out, losing his concentration in escape and sometimes just making him lose consciousness altogether.

When he comes to, he’s back where he started, hanging limply in the dim light of the room, with dark thoughts rolling in.

It’s hard to know how long he’s been here. After this long, Black Star has at least been able to deduce that it’s not the same reality he’s used to. Enough time has passed for Black Star to either be dead from starvation or dehydration, and yet neither have done him in. He also notes that injuries don’t seem to heal wherever he is, or if they do, it’s much slower.

The bandages Nygus carefully wove around his head and feet fell away ages ago, and Black Star has watched the blood steadily pool beneath his feet for what feels like centuries. He watches the slow drips spatter into dark pools on the tile below him and invents meaning for the different shapes to pass the time.

A fist that looks oddly like Fire or Thunder.

A swoop that sort of resembles Soul’s scythe form.

A skull shape that looks the rings Kid wears on each index finger.

It’s not the most entertaining way to pass the time, but it’s a change in scenery. Sometime Black Star wakes up from another round of shocking and the blood is gone. It’s hard to tell if it’s the logic of this strange place that eliminates it or if Gopher has come and cleaned it up. Black Star hopes it’s the latter, if only for the hilarious image he has in his head of Gopher crawling beneath him with a cloth, mopping up his blood and cowering every time Black Star so much as twitches, fearing a kick to the head.

At this point he should have bled out, too. Probably.

But still he lives.

“Having fun in your imprisonment, little Star Clan boy?” Gopher says as he practically skips into view.

Black Star, tracing a pattern of blood on the floor resembling a cat, looks up suddenly at that.

“What did you just say?”

Gopher sneers. “I thought that might get a reaction. Noah-sama is very thorough in researching what’s being kept in his collection.” He sits down on the table and again and crosses his legs primly. He lifts up a clipboard he’s been carrying and reads robotically. “Black Star. Former Star Clan member. Collected by DWMA at age one and monitored regularly by head of the intelligence division. Weapons specialist. Assassin-in-training.”

Black Star rolls his eyes. Well, the one eye that isn’t swollen. “I’m not an ‘assassin-in-training.’ Just an assassin. Period. And what the hell do you mean, ‘monitored’?” Sid and Nygus were his foster parents, not some guard dogs.

Gopher flips through the pages idly. “You didn’t really think the DWMA would just let a Star Clan member run around off-leash, did you?”

“I’m not a Star Clan member. Those idiots were reaped when I was just a brat.”

“And you were the one that wasn’t reaped. Makes sense why they had to keep a close eye on you. Didn’t you just say you were an assassin?”

“It’s not the same thing,” Black Star growls. “I’m not like them.”

Gopher crosses his arms behind his back and smiles. “Sounds the same to me.”

Black Star wants nothing more than to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. He wants to kick him in the nuts and pound his stupid face until it’s black and blue. He wants rip his stupid oily hair out of his stupid oily head and hit him with his Soul Force—

A bolt of electricity rips through his body, shocking him from fingertips to feet.

“FUCK,” Black Star shouts. “God. Fuck.”

Gopher looks exceedingly pleased.

Black Star hangs heavily, ignoring Gopher and focusing on the pain, the way his whole body trembles from it.

This should be the easy part. The pain. Black Star has taken a lot of hits in his life, he thought he was accustomed to the feel of it. He was Star Clan after all. A double-edged sword destined to slice himself up at every opportunity. He had inherited the power and skill of his namesake, which made him dangerous, but not the morals, which made him an enigma. People didn’t know how to act around the boy who should have been reaped. He could tell since he was just a brat that every second of his life he would be forced to prove himself, and that motivated him when it would have made others crumble.

Black Star took it in stride. The scrutiny, the apprehension, the fear that he’d turn out like the demon that gave him life. He didn’t care why they were looking, all that was important was that all eyes were on him. Gathering adoring fans was that much easier when he already had an audience. He’d make sure that no one would be able to associate him with the Star Clan, because every time they heard the name Black Star it would be laced with greatness.

So he trained. He got stronger, faster, louder, bolder, and it really felt like it was working. He partnered with Tsubaki, the most versatile weapon in DWMA history, to further prove the point that he was the fucking best, and no one was able to dispute it. Except—

“Another mission and no souls?” Sid propped his head on his fist and looked at Black Star from across the table. “You botched it again, didn’t you?”

“Did I ask for the color commentary?” Black Star asked around a mouthful of dinner, glaring at Sid over his plate.

“No, but as a teacher I feel like I have the right to give it,” Sid said evenly.

“We’ll get one, just give it a rest already,” Black Star said, but he was deflecting, and they both knew it. He had the skill to collect souls. He had the drive, but—

He rolled his arm in its socket, his left hand gripping his right shoulder tightly.

Sid watched his motions carefully, eyes tracing Black Star’s tattoo. “If you’re still feeling self-conscious about it, the DWMA has name changing forms in the front office. No one would associate you with him anymore.”

But Black Star hated that idea. Changing his name was as good as giving up. He’d carry the weight of his father’s sins and rise above it, the way he always had—

Gopher’s bitchy little fingers snap sharply, the sound echoing in empty expanse of the dark room.

“Are you even listening to me?” Gopher barks, right up in Black Star’s face.

Black Star blinks.

No, he wasn’t. He doesn’t even remember zoning out, but somewhere along the way he got lost in a memory. The longer he stays here, the harder it is to focus on the here and now.

Gopher does his best to taunt him further, but Black Star’s mind is still back at that dinner table with Sid, wondering if collecting a soul would have made difference either way. Everyone already knew he was the strongest meister at the academy. He could have made Tsubaki a Death Scythe in no time at all if he really put his mind to it.

But there was just something about Black Star, son of White Star, collecting souls…

It was Death the Kid who brought things into focus for Black Star.

Sure, Black Star was strong, anyone with eyes could see that. But proving that he was the best was hard when people like Maka and Soul were so easily besting him in the soul-collecting department. And as much as Maka liked to trot around and act like she was better than everyone for being such a model student, Black Star could see through her shtick. He wasn’t aiming to be a teacher’s pet, he was aiming to be the biggest, strongest guy around. Killing small-fry kishin to rack up 99 souls might have been a quantifiable way to prove greatness, but where was the quality?

Enter: Death the Kid.

Black Star couldn’t have planned anything more perfect. A shinigami was coming to study at the academy. A living, breathing god.

Fuck soul-collecting. Black Star had a new goal. “The man who would defeat God” had a much nicer ring to it than “strongest kid in school,” after all.

Kid was everything he expected a shinigami to be. Powerful, capable, precise. A perfect match-up for someone like Black Star to test his skills on. Except—

Well, he also wasn’t anything like Black Star expected. Neurotic to the point of it being almost embarrassing, Kid dropped like a brick whenever his symmetry was disturbed. Black Star and Soul narrowly won their fight against him on his first day of school, a victory Black Star loved lording over him, but in the long-run it didn’t feel like it meant much. Black Star wanted a proper fight with Kid, and he wanted to win.

After that, Black Star measured himself against Kid at every available opportunity. In height, Kid was 2 centimeters taller than him. In meister skills, Kid had Soul Perception and an unwavering trust between him and his partners that made his power output explosive and deadly. In basketball, he had a killer jump shot.

“Are you just good at everything?” Black Star asked one day, smacking the ball out of his hands after the last play. Kid only smirked at him, which was all the more annoying.

But he was also such a weirdo. The first time they spent together by themselves was their mission to find Excalibur. Black Star couldn’t not go, after finding out his rival was searching to find the strongest weapon in the world, Black Star had to get to it first. To wield it himself or prevent Kid from getting to it, he wasn’t sure. What he didn’t anticipate was carrying Kid piggyback after he refused to walk through a few inches of water, worried about the hems of his suit pants getting damp. Black Star could hardly remember how negotiations went for that, just that suddenly his archrival was seated on his back, his legs looped tightly around Black Star’s waist like he was nervous he’d let him go. Black Star couldn’t make sense of it.

And maybe after that it was a little easier to tolerate him. He was fun to mess with, fucking around with things in the Gallows Mansion just to watch Kid blow a gasket trying to return everything to its proper place. He’d partner with Kid in the gym and show off his strength like it was nothing, only for Kid to make a comment about his superior pinky strength that would send Black Star into a tailspin. They made Patti measure their pinky widths with measuring tape (Kid’s was slightly bigger), and then they both spent the next hour trying to do pull-ups from their pinkies alone.

He was funny, with a wry sense of a humor hidden behind a prim and proper exterior. A sly comment coming from Kid always felt like a gift somehow, an exclusive moment the two of them shared.

And he was strong. Black Star, Maka, and their partners found themselves on Kid’s Resonance Team, and when their souls reached out for one another for the first time, Black Star’s connected with Kid’s with no complications: two Lego bricks clicking together like they were meant to be connected, while Black Star and Maka repelled each other like water and oil, despite being friends since they were little.

The idea of Kid being Black Star’s rival wasn’t at the forefront of his mind anymore, and he didn’t really care. They’d go into a battle together, and Black Star would jump into the fray with the reckless abandon of a man who knew his back was covered. Sometimes he came out a little more battered than necessary, but if it meant keeping his teammates out of harm’s way, Black Star didn’t mind much. Having all eyes on him was more his speed, and the glowing pair of gold ones that always seemed to be following him didn’t hurt, either.

But then things started to shift. Then Kishin was revived. The Uncanny Sword was getting harder to use. Then Black Star lost to Mifune. Then to Mosquito. Loss after loss after loss was piling up on Black Star’s heart, and the pressure was starting to hurt. Why could he not win anymore? He thought he was getting stronger, but all of a sudden every step he took had him backsliding further. Black Star could feel it affecting him, corroding his insides with every passing day. Something needed to change.

“We could go see my family?” Tsubaki said after finally cornering Black Star into confessing what was blackening his mood.

Black Star slammed his open palm into the swinging punching bag before him, not using Soul Force on it this time because Nygus kept harping on him and Kid for “damaging the equipment.”

“What does your family have to do with anything?” he asked crossly.

Tsubaki was more patient with him than he deserved. She always took his dark moods in stride. She smiled politely and caught the bag on an upswing, absorbing the momentum of it and lowering it to a still position carefully.

“They might be able to teach us more about the Uncanny Sword. Don’t you think the Nakatsukasa Clan would be the perfect people to ask?”

Black Star had always assumed every problem could be solved through force of will alone. But it was starting to become clearer that he needed help. He nodded, and Tsubaki let him know she would make the arrangements soon. It might not be enough to make a difference, but it was worth trying. Nothing at the DWMA seemed to be helping, anyway.

Going to Japan again was concerning, but Black Star would get through it the same way he always had. White Star’s mistakes were his to bear now. The hatred he received would fade when the people of Japan bore witness to Black Star’s greatness. Probably.

Kid saw through him easily when he told him about it. Black Star shouldn’t have been surprised. Kid had Soul Perception, so he probably just took a peek in Black Star’s chest and saw how erratic he was feeling. (Though Black Star knew deep down that wasn’t it. That Kid knew him. Better than most, in fact. Kid was always surprising him with how much he knew about Black Star, or how much he could tell just from his silence.) Black Star did what he always ended up doing around Kid: opening up. He wasn’t sure how an over-powered shinigami with a symmetry obsession had that kind of effect on him, but somewhere down the line Black Star had gotten closer to Kid than he ever thought possible.

But something about that closeness felt…wrong.

Getting close to Kid, in that moment, was too much of a mindfuck. Black Star could feel himself teetering on the edge of a dark precipice, and somehow Kid was beside him, talking about how similar they were. They both had issues comparing themselves to their fathers, they both held themselves to higher esteems than other people, and their perfectionism got the best of them. He framed it like it was a good thing, like they were equals, and it made Black Star want to scream.

Because they couldn’t be equals. Not then. Black Star was supposed to defeat God, and now here he was, leaving the academy with his tail between his legs to go find some outside source to help him regain his strength. Kid wasn’t allowed to be this low. He wasn’t supposed to be a fallible person with similar wants and fears. He was a god Black Star was supposed to fucking crush, so why did it feel like a black hole was swallowing him up instead? He wanted to hold Kid’s hand and tell him it would be alright. He wanted to feel the gentle press of Kid’s lips as his face lingered closer and closer, but nothing about Black Star felt gentle in that moment. He was on the verge of shaking apart. It was too fucking much.

He left the Gallows Mansion early that night, pacing the streets of Death City and trying to formulate a plan. The foundation of his soul felt shakier than ever, and he needed a way to stabilize his fragile wavelength. So, fuck it. He’d prove how much stronger he’d gotten. He’d prove it to himself, to Kid, to the whole fucking academy that he was indisputably the strongest. He’d leave the academy on a high, then go master the Uncanny Sword with Tsubaki.

The feeling of his head getting ground into the asphalt under Kid’s rubber sole was the final straw.

Weak.

Black Star was a man who contained multitudes, but he couldn’t take that final loss. He pulled himself from the crater in the DWMA’s courtyard and left without a word. He and Tsubaki were on a flight to Japan the very next day.

He hadn’t spoken to Kid since.

All that training, all that growing and healing he’d done in Japan, and Kid never got to see any of it. He’d meant to come back to the academy and surprise Kid with his newfound maturity and purpose. He’d apologize for the way he acted back then, and maybe, if Kid forgave him—

But that didn’t happen. Instead, Black Star hangs from the shackles in this mysterious, otherworldly realm, soundly defeated by one man and a pair of magic handcuffs.

Maybe he was weak.

“You are the great and powerful Black Star, and you will not give up.”

Black Star chants it like a mantra. Never when Gopher is around, God no, he’d never let him live it down. But when the shadows of the expansive room start creeping in, Black Star sometimes needs a reminder that he’s no quitter. That someone will come for him. He’ll get a small shock from the cuffs, who seemingly hate any time he tries to have a positive thought of any kind, but he keeps chanting it regardless.

Great and powerful. Don’t give up.

Gopher hasn’t been around much lately. Off doing minion things, or perched dutifully at Noah’s feet like the pathetic lapdog he is, maybe. It’s weird, though, not being guarded. Do they think Black Star doesn’t need a guard anymore? That he has no chance of escape?

It twists something in Black Star’s gut to think the enemy thinks he’s given up. That isn’t something he can accept. So during one of those long stretches of time that Gopher is gone, Black Star goes back to trying to free himself.

It’s slow work. He doesn’t have any tools, and the deep black shackles fit on his wrist almost to the skin. He’s tried slipping a hand out before, but the space is too narrow. Black Star focuses on the second means of escape: breaking the shackles.

He was the strongest student at the DWMA, it shouldn’t be hard. He can punch through walls and climb mountains without equipment, how difficult can it be to shatter some handcuffs?

He gathers all the mental strength he can muster, breathing in deeply, then starts pulling his wrists apart. Sweat and blood run down his face as the metal cuts into his skin. He just needs—to snap—the cuffs—apart—

Black Star cries out when electricity rips through his body.

God, every time. Every fucking time it feels like he’s making progress, the magic in the cuffs electrifies him like he’s metal rod in and open field. Black Star growls low in his throat, the frustration building like it always does. He can’t try again yet, forced to sit and stew while tremors wrack his frame.

“You are the great and powerful Black Star, and you will not give up,” his hoarse voice reminds him. It’s not as convincing as he wants it to be.

He waits for the shaking to subside, for the tingling in his spine to return to the same constant ache, then mentally readies himself for another attempt.

That’s what Black Star is doing when Justin Law suddenly appears before him

A piece of paper like a ripped-out page from a book, flicks into existence in front of Black Star, burning at the edges. Black Star stares at it curiously, watching the orange tinted border creep closer and closer to the center, then a bright flash of light like a portal opens up, and the youngest Death Scythe ever created was walking though.

Black Star can’t believe his eyes.

Finally. After who knows how long, help has arrived. Black Star will get to go home. He’s so struck he’s almost speechless from it.

That only lasts a minute before Black Star is screaming his head off.

“HEY! HEY! OVER HERE!” He wriggles his whole body, rattling his chains together as loudly as possible to get Justin’s attention.

He doesn’t care if Gopher or Noah shows up at this point. He just needs to get out.

It takes a while to get his attention. Black Star can’t fathom what he’d be looking at; the only things in this room are a table and Black Star. And the giant stained-glass window behind him. Justin’s eyes seem to scan right over Black Star, fixating on the large circular window for a long time. Black Star shakes even harder.

“JUSTIN FUCKING LAW. STOP LOOKING AT THE STUPID WINDOW AND HELP.”

Justin’s blue eyes finally flick to Black Star, his expression carefully neutral.

Black Star tries not to let his anger get the best of him. “Finally, jeez. I’m right here. You wanna get to work or what?” He shakes his arms again. “You’re a guillotine aren’t you? I’m sure you could make pretty quick work of these.”

But Justin is still looking at Black Star carefully, not saying anything.

“Helloooooo, Mr. Priest. Can you hear me? What kind of shitty rescuer are you?”

Justin smirks and taps a piece of plastic in his ears. His stupid headphones. He’s wearing them, even now.

“Don’t worry, I can read lips just fine,” he says evenly, though there’s the barest hint of amusement in his voice.

“Then GET TO WORK,” Black Star says, emotion rising within him. What the hell is this guy waiting on?

But Justin is looking behind him again, like Black Star suddenly isn’t the most important thing in this room. Then the hair on the back of his neck raises just a bit. He may be a captive, but he’s still a ninja. He senses that someone else is in the room. Multiple people, even.

He can’t imagine anyone else it could be, so he yells “Justin, RUN!” to an extremely unflappable Justin Law. He doesn’t run, but instead tracks the movement of their two extra guests as they step into view: Gopher, and worse, Noah.

“Good catch,” he says calmly, and it takes a second for Black Star to realize that Justin is talking to Noah, about him. “Taking away the Star Clan member weakens them considerably.”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Noah says seriously, still looking at Black Star like he’s scum. Black Star is still blinking, looking at the man he knows is a DWMA staff member, talking to Noah like they’re best friends.

Another person walks into view, and Black Star really doesn’t know what’s going on. Giriko, one of Arachne’s lackeys, strolls in front of him and stalks toward the table, a beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingers. He sits at one of the chairs, legs spread wide. “I don’t see the point in keeping him alive for this long, Noah. You should have killed him ages ago.”

“Noah-sama,” Gopher squeaks from a corner.

They all ignore Gopher, like they should, and impossibly, Justin goes and takes a seat next to Giriko.

“Yo, what the fuck is going on?” Black hears someone voice his exact sentiment and realizes that the question is coming from himself. “Justin, what are you doing?”

All of the men look at Black Star with different degrees of incredulity, like they’re surprised he had the audacity to speak, given his position. Black Star himself is shocked too, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing.

“You’re from the DWMA, man. You work for Lord Death,” he says desperately. “You fought with us in the battle for Brew.” He nods his head towards Giriko, who hasn’t stopped scowling. “Against him.” He swallows down the burning in his throat. He can’t say the last part. I thought you were here to save me.

Justin is nonplussed as ever. “The only god I serve is Kishin-sama.”

Black Star’s stomach fills with concrete. A person from the DWMA has finally found him but isn’t here to rescue him. And now instead of inhabiting this prison cell with one minion, he’s surrounded by three killers.

“So what are you keeping the brat for?” Giriko asks, pointing his bottle to Black Star, who can do nothing. If they harm him, he can’t fight back. If they decide to kill him, that’ll be it.

Black Star flinches instinctively when Noah looks at him.

“He’d be good bait,” Justin says evenly. “The students and teachers care for him. Use him to draw them out.”

Giriko picks at his teeth. “As if. If he’s been here since the battle at the castle and they haven’t come looking for him yet, what’s the point?” He rolls his neck in slow loops, sighing at the popping sounds it makes. “They probably think he’s dead anyway.”

Black Star does his best not to react to that. As if it hasn’t been a constant thought in the back of his mind this whole fucking time.

But Giriko keeps talking, as if to spite him. He looks directly in his eyes and smiles. “After all, it’s been months.”

Months?

That can’t be right. There’s no way he could have been gone that long, without a whisper of chance at rescue.

But he eyes Justin, the first DWMA member he’s seen this whole time, a man who has no interest in freeing him.

…Months?

No, Black Star thinks. Kid wouldn’t give up on me. He’d know I haven’t given up yet.

Noah ignores Giriko, looking to Justin. “We don’t need bait to draw out the academy’s child soldiers. They prance about in public without any prompting at all.”

Gopher jumps in excitedly. “I found some just last week! Flying through the canyons. The Soul Perception girl and her scythe.” Black Star breathes a little heavier. She and Soul must have been out looking for him, right? Hope flutters like a small bird in his ribcage.

The cuffs zap it out of him, a quick and painful zip. Black Star grits his teeth.

Gopher keeps talking, unaware of Black Star’s pain, or perhaps just not interested in it. “They didn’t even notice my presence at first. Fools. I was able to stalk them as they goofed off for ages before they noticed. I’m sick of all of them. Flying around that canyon in their merriment. Like they’re untouchable.”

Wait, Gopher found them? Goofed off? Bitterness rolls over Black Star in waves. It’s nice to know they’re able to have such a fun time together. He’s been shackled here for months and they’re goofing off—

“Silence!”

Everyone in the room snaps to attention at Noah’s commanding voice.

“What I do with my collection is my business alone,” he says darkly. He stalks up to Black Star, who can’t help but shrink away. It’s no use, he has nowhere to hide, so when Noah stops in front of him, he’s just as vulnerable as ever. “If I want to leave him here to rot, that’s my decision.”

There’s something dead in his eyes, in the way he smiles. A haunting look passes over his face as he reaches above Black Star, grabbing the chain he’s hanging from to pull Black Star closer and swing him directly into Noah’s waiting fist.

“If I wish him harm, that’s my decision.”

Black Star gurgles out a cough at the hit. Noah is making a show of hurting him, just for the amusement of his guests, and Black Star starts to reach a boiling point. After all, he’s been here for months, and no one is coming for him. Now might be his last opportunity to bite back.

Using what little strength he has, he grabs for Noah’s hand, inches above his shackled ones, and releases his Soul Force, as powerful as he can make it. He’ll cook the fuck out of both of them if that’s what it takes. He’ll make Noah regret every taking him in the first place. He’ll—

A light shock leaves his hands, sparking into Noah’s. Barely hotter than bug zapper.

Black Star’s eyes widen in shock. That was barely anything. He can’t even muster up the strength use his own wavelength?

A shadow passes over Black Star. Noah’s stony face has transformed into one of wrath.

“You dare try to harm me?”

He grabs Black Star brutally by the hand, lifting him up until his feet aren’t even touching the ground. The sharp pain in his shoulders mixed with the rawness of his wrist being gripped has him screaming.

That haunting look has returned to his eye, and without warning he’s gripping Black Star’s hand and wrist in both hands and squeezing. Black Star thought he was in agony before, but the white-hot sensation of bones cracking has him choking for breath.

He barely holds onto consciousness when Noah drops him roughly back down, his shattered hand colliding with his shackles.

Black Star pants and shakes. His throat is raw from screaming, lungs paper dry. Tears stream down his face from just the slightest movement of his hand.

Noah looks satisfied.

He turns to the rest of his guests. Black Star’s eyes focus on the floor below them, not interested in their stupid meeting any longer.

Noah’s voice is smug.

“No one is coming for him. If I want to keep him here until he’s begging to be killed, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

They leave him alone, after that. A guard isn’t necessary, because Black Star isn’t trying to escape.

4. two souls connect

“One more chapter and we’ll finally have Black Star back!” Patti hollers encouragingly, wrapping an arm around Tsubaki, who offers up a tense smile.

Kid notes her expression. He feels the same. Traversing through the Book of Eibon hasn’t been at all like how he expected it. When the Chupa Cabra witches (with the help of a captive Eruka the frog) transported Spartoi into the Book, Kid expected to be greeted with another castle, like Baba Yaga’s. Or, at least, a prison. A fortress strong enough to keep Black Star contained, to have apparently kept an Ancient One contained at some point in time.

Instead, he was transformed into a female.

Everyone in their party seemed to have swapped physical sexes, bodies changing to forms opposite their own. It felt like a gag, as his friends guffawed at each other’s new body parts and outfits, almost immediately forgetting their main mission in favor of laughing at each other’s bewildered expressions.

The breasts that hung heavily from Kid’s chest only lasted a few brief minutes, a minor inconvenience that he paid no real mind to, seemingly the only one focused on the mission at hand. It took Kid a while to realize that each of the Chapters was centered around one of the Seven Deadly Sins, each of the new realms designed to ensnare any intruders in their own personal demons. It was an effective way to distract them from their main goal, each chapter they entered making it harder and harder to remember that their purpose was Black Star.

It didn’t help ease Kid’s mind that he couldn’t feel Black Star’s wavelength. Even now, as the group had gotten separated, Maka and Soul getting swept away to the Envy Chapter without the rest of the group, he could still distantly feel their presence, their wavelengths glowing dimly in Kid’s mind like lanterns through a thick fog.

But he can’t feel Black Star’s wavelength at all.

Even now, with one Chapter supposedly to go, Black Star’s boisterous wavelength isn’t something Kid can feel with his Soul Perception, and it’s making him nervous.

They were so sure he was here. When Maka and Soul had fought the boy named Gopher in the canyons, she recognized the symbol on the piece of paper he had jumped into to disappear. It was the same symbol on the Book of Eibon manuscript she had stolen ages ago from the restricted section of the library. The memory boils Kid’s blood a little, to think he was so close to a solution, but the book in question was hiding in Soul and Maka’s apartment under their couch.

Through the witches’ magic, they were able to see the last people who had access to the real Book of Eibon, and both Kid and Tsubaki were able to positively identify that the mage who’d kidnapped Black Star was among them.

So, it stands to reason that Black Star must be in this Book as well, right?

So why couldn’t Kid feel him?

The worry claws at his insides as he follows behind his partners, falling into step with Tsubaki.

“Once we find him, we’ll contact Kim to retrieve us right away,” Kid says, voice low. He hoists his pack a little higher on his shoulders, filled to the brim with medical supplies. “Soul and Maka can handle themselves. They know our first priority is finding Black Star.”

It seems harsh even to his own ears. They lost Maka and Soul chapters ago and haven’t been able to contact them since. The last thing Spartoi needs is more members going missing. He should be stopping them, calling Index to make them go back. They should be doing this together.

But he thinks of Black Star’s bandages, trailing behind him like red ribbons. The desperate way he jumped between Kid and the mage’s outstretched hand, right before he disappeared.

Kid surges forward.

Black Star is his priority—their priority.

The bridge they walk on feels endless. It seems the nature of the book is that a setting will go on for as long as it requires to feel narratively appropriate, not for any logical reason. Perhaps they’ll be able to move on to the next Chapter when a decision is made?

“What do you think the book wants from us?” Tsubaki asks the group.

Kid nods approvingly, happy that she came to the same conclusion. She’s more clever than most give her credit for, given her quiet nature.

Liz arches a brow. “Doesn’t Index just show up when it wants to, to whisk us away?”

Kid itches at the thought of just waiting. Anything could be happening to Black Star at this very moment, and they were just going to stand around? What if he was hurt? What if something worse was happening to him? Did anyone else even care about Black Star? Or were they just ready to finally leave the book? The more he spirals the more he feels the distance between him and the others growing.

Kid almost doesn’t notice when the wooden plank in front of him disappears. He snaps back into focus, stumbling forward and catching himself on the other side of the gap.

“Hey! I think something is happening—”

The girls are gone.

Kid turns around. Surely he didn’t pass them just now? But they’re not there either.

In fact, when Kid turns around to face forward, the planks in the distance all begin to fall away. One by one, more and more, like dominos, dropping from their fastenings and getting closer and closer to Kid with every second.

“Liz? Patti? Tsubaki? What’s going on?” Kid cries, backing up as fast as he can. But the wooden planks are falling away faster than he can move, and without Beelzebub he has no way to fly. The final board beneath his feet falls away, and Kid feels a moment of weightlessness before plunging into the abyss below.

The falling only lasts a moment.

The same sensation from travelling to a new Chapter swallows Kid up. Like air being punched from lungs. Like paper grazing skin. And within seconds, Kid is standing in an entirely new Chapter of the Book of Eibon. He looks around curiously. They were on their way Greed, but Index wasn’t the one who guided him here. Could this be a different part of the book?

Kid looks above him, but the bridge is long gone, in favor of a vaulted ceiling, tall white columns, and an enormous circular stained-glass window that stops Kid short.

He’s never seen a window so marvelous before. The intricate design, the array of colors! The symmetry! It’s so breathtaking, Kid is completely captivated by it. He approaches it reverently, ready to bask in its symmetrical brilliance indefinitely, when a wounded moan from beneath it snaps him out of it.

There doesn’t appear to be any light here other than the rays streaming through the stained glass, meaning the figure hanging from chains before him is just a silhouette against the colorful light behind him.

But Kid would know that silhouette anywhere. It was the last thing Kid saw, in fact, before he disappeared all those months ago.

Black Star.

Kid’s heart skips a beat. The pain of not knowing Black Star’s condition for the past two months pales in comparison to seeing him now, because it’s so much worse than he imagined.

Hanging limply from a pair of heavy iron-clad shackles, Black Star looks like he’s barely clinging to life. Loose bandages swirl around his neck and legs, having fallen away ages ago, leaving his wounds exposed. His skin is adorned with cuts and bruises, one eye swollen almost completely shut. His right hand doesn’t look broken, it looks mangled, the fingers twisted at odd angles, knuckles swollen and dark.

It takes everything in him to not scream his name. Kid has no idea where Black Star’s captors may be, especially with the rules of this Book being so fickle. The last thing he wants to do is draw attention to himself.

But there doesn’t appear to be anyone else around. Black Star stands alone, bandaged feet just barely grazing the ground as he hangs there.

Kid can hardly bare it. Tossing aside caution, Kid sprints to Black Star.

“Black Star?”

He doesn’t stir. Hanging there limply in the multi-colored light, the shadows distorting his face, he looks like a corpse. A captive long-forgotten, left to rot in his confines.

It’s at that moment Kid finally notices what feels so wrong. Black Star’s soul. He still can’t feel it.

Panic ignites in Kid’s chest, heart beating in triple time. He can’t be, he can’t be—

No, Kid reminds himself as he skids to a halt at Black Star’s side. He heard a noise earlier. The only person in this room is Black Star.

That doesn’t stop Kid’s hand from trembling as he reaches towards him. He’s not even sure where he can touch him without hurting him more. Kid settles for gently tipping Black Star’s chin upwards, bringing his face into the light.

Kid’s eyes flutter close for a moment. His skin is still warm.

Gathering up his nerves, Kid cradles Black Star’s head gently.

“Black Star, can you hear me?”

It takes a while, far too long if Kid has anything to say about it, but Black Star cracks open his one good eye, blinking it a few times before his vision comes into focus.

“Kid?”

His heart pounds loudly in his chest in relief. “Yes,” he breathes, “Black Star, it’s me. We’re here to rescue you.”

“Here,” Kid says, digging through the pack all the Spartoi members were required to bring with them on the mission. It’s a survival pack, filled with a first aid kit, food, and other essentials that could keep them alive depending on how long they were going to be inside the Book. Kid has used none of his supplies, intent on saving it all for the person who really needed them.

Kid pulls out a roll of bandages and some pain medication. He knocks a couple pills into his palm. Then he looks to Black Star’s broken frame and tips out a few more.

“Don’t bother,” Black Star says. His voice is rough. Kid can’t tell if it’s from lack of use or from using it too much. He tries not think about it too hard. Black Star clears his throat. “Wounds don’t really heal here, so there’s no point.”

Maybe it’s the roughness of his voice, but something about the way he’s speaking sounds so foreign to Kid, it’s almost like he’s talking to another person altogether. He eyes Black Star’s injuries again. If what Black Star is saying is true, it means that the injuries currently dripping blood into a small pool beneath him might not even be current. Some of these could have been from his fight with Mifune.

It does something horrible to his heart, to think that Black Star has been in pain for that long. He looks at the supplies before him. The gauze and bandages won’t do much good right now, but he can still try to help the pain subside.

“I don’t care,” Kid says, swallowing the lump in his throat. He brings the palm of pills to Black Star’s mouth, cupping his hand right in front of him until Black Star relents. He accepts the pills and allows Kid to hold a water bottle to his lips to flush them down. Black Star drinks greedily. Kid can’t help but wonder about the last time Black Star had something to drink.

“Now,” Kid says, looking around the large, bare room. Or, at least, he assumes it’s large. The Book only shows you what you need to see, so the farther he looks in the distance, the more the ink fades to cross-hatching nothingness. “Where are the people that took you?”

“Dunno,” Black Star says, eyes on the floor. He’s barely looked at Kid the whole time he’s been here, now that Kid thinks about it. “They stopped coming.”

Maybe that’s a good thing. It means Kid might have more time to liberate Black Star from his shackles. Maybe he can get him out before his captors even know Kid was here.

But they way Black Star said it…

How long has he been alone?

Kid shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll be out of here quickly enough,” Kid says, though he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince: himself or Black Star.

But if Kid thought that the hard part was finding Black Star, he neglected to think about how difficult freeing him would be. Why didn’t it occur to him that the force that was keeping Black Star imprisoned would have to be stronger than Black Star himself?

He eyes the cuffs skeptically. There has to be something about them that’s keeping Black Star detained.

He reaches for one of the cuffs to get a better look. Black Star flinches violently. “Don’t—"

The second Kid’s fingers graze the iron shackles a shock runs through his whole body, frying all his nerves.

Kid cries out before he can stop himself, wrenching his hand away and panting.

“What the hell was that?” Kid asks.

Black Star is panting just as hard. Kid realizes through the haze of pain that he didn’t just shock himself.

“Yeah, those do that. Magic or s’mthin’, I dunno,” Black Star says around gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry,” Kid says quickly, sick with the thought of putting Black Star through more pain. “I won’t do it again.”

His skin tingles from the pain, even after the shock itself has ended. There’s something almost familiar about it, somehow, but Kid can’t quite place it. He can’t focus too long on it, though. He has to find a different way to help Black Star without touching the cuffs.

He looks around the parts of the room he can see. “Is there a key, perhaps?”

“I’ve never seen one if there was,” Black Star says dejectedly, still looking down.

“Maybe if I just look around—”

“Kid,” Black Star says emphatically. It’s the most passion he’s put in his voice the whole time Kid’s been here.

Kid freezes. When Black Star’s face rises to look at his, Kid sees an unrecognizable expression on his face.

“There’s no fucking key, okay?” Black Star says. “There’s no key or magic password or hidden tool that will open these up. You can’t get them off. I’m stuck here.”

Kid blinks.

Black Star curls his lip at Kid’s bewildered expression. “You shouldn’t have come. If Noah finds you, he’ll kill you. Or worse, he’ll lock you up in one of these,” he wriggles a bit, so the shackles binding his wrists jangle together loudly. He shouldn’t have bothered with the demonstration; it just causes his face to twist up in pain. “And then you’ll be stuck here too. Just go.”

Something curdles in Kid’s gut. That’s what’s so unfamiliar here.

Black Star has given up.

“I’m not leaving you here, Black Star,” Kid says sternly, hoping to cover up any other unsavory emotions bubbling up. “I came here to retrieve you and that’s what I intend to do.” Retrieve. That makes it sound so clinical. Rescue. Repent? The semantics don’t matter.

“So you say,” Black Star mutters.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Black Star doesn’t respond. “Black Star?”

Black Star shifts a little, causing his mangled hand to twitch a tiny bit. His whole face crumbles in pain. Kid reaches out a hand—to do what, he’s not sure. To help, to soothe, to make things better.

But Black Star flinches. Kid’s hand stops.

He’s been doing his best to force his thoughts away from what Black Star’s been through while he’s been trapped here. To avoid thinking about the way those people hurt him. The physical injuries are plain to see, but it’s clear his wounds are deeper than that. Kid can’t stand it any longer.

“I’m sorry.”

Black Star opens his eyes. “What?”

He can’t hold it back anymore. The guilt that’s been clawing at his chest for the entire time Black Star has been gone is now threatening to swallow him whole. He looks at Black Star’s broken body miserably. Human bodies are so fragile.

“It should have been me.”

It’s the thing he’s been wanting to say this whole time. Tsubaki knew it. Kid knew it. Black Star surely knew it. Those cuffs were made for him. Black Star is feeling this hopeless because of him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Black Star asks, all the bitterness gone from his voice, replaced by pure confusion.

“Don’t play dumb,” Kid says. Now he sounds like the bitter one. Except his voice is sounding thick, his throat tightening with emotion. “You’re not who they meant to capture.”

“So?”

“So, this is all my fault!”

“Wait, this?” Black Star looks down at himself, indirectly pointing out his injuries. “Or this?” He wriggles his shoulders, jangling the heavy chains attached to his cuffs.

Kid can hardly bear to look at it. “Either. Both. All of it.”

“You’re so stupid,” Black Star says. Somehow, it’s this statement that makes him sound the most like himself. Or, himself before.

But his eye. His hand. The cuts ribboning his arms and torso. He’s never looked more human to Kid. More fragile.

“You can’t beat yourself up about things you literally didn’t do to me, idiot.” Black Star says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If you want to apologize for curb stomping me in the academy courtyard, I’ll accept that.”

That’s so unexpected, Kid finds himself actually snorting. He shouldn’t, he genuinely needs to apologize for that, but somehow he finds his lips curling up instead.

“There,” Black Star says. “Got you smiling. No one should be frowning when looking at the great Black Star.”

It does make Kid feel marginally better. Which is ultimately still frustrating, that the boy dangling in the center of the room in chains is the one doing the comforting. Some rescuer Kid is.

Because, despite everything, Kid still seeks Black Star for comfort. He wants to reach out to him, to feel his warmth and be reminded of those feelings, but refrains. He still remembers that flinch.

He sobers himself. “We’re wasting time. I need to get you out of here.”

It sobers Black Star too. Kid doesn’t even think he realizes it, but every mention of escape has him shrinking into himself.

“Well, like I said. There’s no key,” Black Star says, trying to retain the same cadence to his voice as before, and failing.

Kid steps into Black Star’s space carefully. Black Star’s eyes meet his nervously. “I won’t touch them, I promise.”

He circles Black Star slowly, looking at the cuffs. There’s no keyhole. There doesn’t even appear to be a hinge or a seam. The cuffs circle Black Star’s brutal-looking wrists completely, one continuous iron circle. It must be the magic in them, like Black Star said. Kid could try to wrench them apart, but he doesn’t think he can do that without hurting Black Star, or without causing that horrible shocking. He twists the rings on his fingers idly as he wracks his brain for a solution, and jumps back suddenly when a visible bolt of electricity zips from the cuffs, shaking Black Star.

“Fuck,” Black Star cries out.

Kid panics. “I swear, I didn’t touch—”

“I know you didn’t,” Black Star rasps. He huffs out a few shallow breaths. “That’s not what causes it, usually.”

Kid pauses. “It isn’t?”

“I don’t know what causes the shocks. They just kind of happen at random.”

Kid turns this over in his head. That sort of magic doesn’t sound like Noah’s style. Based on how battered Black Star is, Kid assumed the man was seriously sadistic. Programming the shackles to zap at random doesn’t seem cruel enough. Not from a person who would who kept Black Star strung up here for months, purely to test them.

“Can you think of any of the times went off, specifically?”

Black Star looks like he wants to reply with something snarky, but he sees the expression on Kid’s face and stops himself. Kid might be on to something.

Black Star takes a moment to really think.

“When I was mad, mostly.” Black Star says, discovering a pattern. “When Gopher would say something to piss me off, I’d get zapped.”

“Maybe that means—”

“Well, no. That wasn’t the only time. Sometimes when I was by myself, I’d get shocked too. When I was—"Black Star stops short, like he doesn’t want to say it. There’s something about how he looks right now. A vulnerability that reminds Kid of just how young Black Star is. “When I’d be trying to escape. They’d shock me whenever things started looking up.”

Kid wishes he could feel Black Star’s wavelength right now. It would help him decipher what the pinched-up expression on Black Star’s face could mean. Shame, maybe? It’s been so long since he’s been able to decode Black Star. Has he forgotten how?

Wait, Kid thinks. He freezes so suddenly even Black Star flinches a bit from it.

“Black Star,” he says seriously. “What were you thinking just now, when the cuffs electrocuted you?”

Black Star’s eyebrows raise. Is he nervous? Kid realizes he can’t tell. Black Star is standing right in front of him, alive as can be, but he still can’t sense his wavelength.

“Nothing,” Black Star says, but it comes out so defensively, Kid is positive he’s lying.

Kid doesn’t care what the reasoning was, not really. He’s caught up in the thrill of almost having an answer. “Shift your wrists for me, please? I need to be able to see the inside of the shackles.”

Black Star grumbles something unintelligible. Kid only hears something that sounds like “no damn sense…” But he pulls his wrists apart as best has he can manage, so the insides of his wrists aren’t flush with the metal of the cuffs. Kid looks at them closely, watching little shimmers of colorful light bounce off the smooth inner edge.

“Black Star, it’s a mirror.”

“Huh?”

“The magic from the cuffs. It doesn’t send of off a signal to shock you at random intervals, it’s reflecting your wavelength.” Kid is so pleased with this discovery, he can hardly sit still. “That’s why I can’t feel you with my Soul Perception.”

Black Star looks completely lost.

“Look,” Kid says, trying to keep his voice even. “You know how when a witch uses Soul Protect, it prevents her from projecting her magical wavelength out past her body?” Black Star nods. Thank God some of their studying stuck. “The cuffs work the same way. Every time your soul wavelength spikes, the cuffs reflect it back at you in the form of electricity. It’s a mirror.”

Understanding begins to bloom on Black Star’s face. He looks up at the offending restraints, straining his neck backwards to stare at them.

“So you’re telling me, I’ve been holding myself captive this hold time? I’m hurting me?”

Kid nods emphatically, so pleased with himself for solving the mystery that he doesn’t immediately notice that Black Star isn’t sharing in his excitement.

Black Star lets out a single, hollow laugh.

Kid’s happiness simmers down. “Black Star?”

But Black Star just shakes himself a little. “No, that makes sense.” He clears his throat. “So how does that help me get out? I can’t exactly turn off my soul wavelength.”

Another idea pops into Kid’s mind. “We don’t have to turn it off, per se. We just have to neutralize it.” He steps closer to Black Star, craning his neck to look at the chains. “You know how Professor Stein would fight? How he’d appraise someone’s wavelength and adjust his so it was the opposite of his opponent’s?” He meets Black Star’s eyes. “If we use that method, we could cancel out your wavelength so it doesn’t hurt you. Then all we’d have to do is shatter the cuffs.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Black Star says, but something about his expression isn’t right. Just moments ago, Black Star told Kid the electricity would spike whenever he felt close to an escape, but right now Black Star’s wavelength doesn’t appear to be giving the cuffs any juice.

“What’s wrong?” Kid asks.

Black Star shakes his head sullenly and tries to perk up. “Not important. Let’s just spring me, okay? I’m sick of hanging here.”

Kid wants to press him, but Black Star is right. He shouldn’t force Black Star to hang here in pain longer than necessary. They’ll have time to talk after all this is over.

He takes another half-step towards Black Star, minimizing the space between them. Nervousness possesses him suddenly.

“This would be easier with our weapon partners here,” Kid says quietly. Weapons were conduits for meisters’ souls, after all. Resonating with Black Star without Tsubaki or the Thompsons here might be tricky. Doubt creeps in even more. What if he hurts Black Star? “I’ve never done this technique before. It might not be as easy as Stein makes it look—”

“Kid,” Black Star interrupts. He meets Kid’s eyes. “You’re good. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

Kid tries not to look taken aback but such Black Star’s insistent vote of confidence.

He clears his throat. “Okay. I’m going to need you to activate the cuffs. I need a bit your wavelength to resonate with.”

Black Star nods gravely.

Kid slips out of his jacket, then holds it in front of them and rips off one of the sleeves. He holds it in front of Black Star’s face. “Here, this might help.”

Black Star understands easily, opening his mouth and biting down on the sleeve.

Kid breathes out slowly. Black Star mirrors him, exhaling loudly through his nose.

Kid hovers close to Black Star once more. “Okay,” he says gently. “Whenever you’re ready.”

It takes Black Star a few more beats, closing his eyes. It takes incredibly courage, Kid thinks, to actively hurt yourself like this. He gives Black Star as long as he needs.

At last, Black Star opens his eyes, determination blazing behind them. Then, he activates his Soul Force.

The electricity ripples through him. Kid closes his eyes, blocking out Black Star’s pained sounds as he screams through gritted teeth, and zeroes in on his wavelength.

The symmetry of this project would have pleased him if this could have involved anything else but hurting Black Star intentionally. Changing his soul wavelength to reflect Black Star’s is the ultimate act of symmetry. He changes the shape of his soul like crafting a key to a lock. For every spike, Kid becomes a valley. For every over-powered attack in Black Star’s soul, Kid is a graceful block. For every ounce of boundless confidence, Kid projects subtle humility. For every loud, joyous laugh, Kid is restraint.

Kid opens his eyes and steps back.

Black Star stops shocking himself, spitting out the jacket sleeve and panting heavily.

“Did it—” his voice breaks. He swallows and starts over. “Did it work?”

It would have. Kid could tell. If he had continued picking apart Black Star’s soul and molding his own soul to be equal and opposite, he’d have neutralized Black Star’s wavelength.

But he can’t do it.

“No.”

Black Star’s expression is shattered. “No?”

Kid shakes his head. “I can’t do this.”

Black Star starts to tremble, hard. “What do you mean? I’m gonna be stuck here? I thought it was working!” His eyes blaze with panic. “You’re Death the Kid, you can do anything. You can’t tell me you can’t do it. I can’t—” His breath hitches high.

Kid’s heart is breaking. He reaches forward, damning the cuffs, damning Noah, damning Black Star himself for making Black Star feel this way. His hands cup Black Star’s face, before he can fall deeper into a spiral.

“Black Star, we will get you out of here,” he assures steadily. “But it won’t be me freeing you.”

Black Star falters. “You--?”

“You’re going to do it.”

Kid can’t free Black Star this way. Doing so would mean that the key to freeing Black Star from himself is to be everything he’s not. A wavelength that’s mild-mannered. Agreeable. Quiet. Small.

During his captivity, Black Star had been conditioned to believe that every trait that was fundamentally him would get him hurt. Kid can’t stand to think that that’s the key to his freedom as well.

“Kid, I can’t. I—I’m too—”

“Weak?”

Black Star’s mouth snaps shut. He doesn’t answer.

That’s what Kid was afraid of. Kid damns himself most of all.

“Black Star, you could not be further from weak.”

But he can tell that Black Star doesn’t believe him. After months of being alone, stewing on the most hurtful thing Kid has ever said to him, while unable to free himself from his captivity, it’s no wonder Black Star believes it wholeheartedly.

Kid can’t stand it.

“You wanna know the reason why you’re here right now?” Kid says, almost angrily.

Black Star looks taken aback by Kid’s sudden change in attitude.

“You’re here because you made the choice to jump between me and someone who could have killed me with one touch. With no idea what the outcome would be, you sacrificed yourself. There’s nothing weak about that.”

“You’re spinning it to be better than it was,” Black Star insists.

“No. I’m not,” Kid says. “Because that’s how you always are. Fighting for the sake of others. Protecting people.” He swallows. “Protecting me.”

“Kid—”

“You’ve been stuck here this long because your heart is too big, Black Star. Your soul is too powerful to be contained. They weren’t preying on your weakness when they put these shackles on you.” He squeezes Black Star’s face, putting everything he has into the next statement so Black Star will fucking understand. “They were using your strength against you.”

Black Star opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. The wounded expression he’s been wearing has transformed into bewilderment. Kid hopes that means he’s coming around.

“So, no, I will not be neutralizing your wavelength. The great and powerful Black Star that I know would never let himself be dimmed like that,” he says with conviction.

Black Star finds his voice, quiet though it may be. “I am a big star, after all.”

Kid’s soul warms at the sound of it.

He beams back at Black Star.

“The biggest.”

It’s different this time. They both know it will hurt, but instead of fear, both Kid and Black Star are looking at each other with certainty.

Kid’s places a hand on Black Star’s chest, warm and solid, right over his heart.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Black Star assures once more, though Kid knows it’s only a formality. “You don’t have to feel it, too.”

Kid rolls his eyes. “Now who’s being stupid?”

The edges of Black Star’s mouth curl up, just a little.

Kid breathes in deeply, centering himself. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Black Star nods. It takes less time than before, for Black Star to rev up his soul wavelength. The electric current rushes through both of them now, and it hits Kid again just how awful these past few months must have been for Black Star. Electricity rips up and down Kid’s spine, but he grits his teeth and focuses on his job.

His soul grabs onto Black Star’s wavelength, same as before, but this time Kid doesn’t work on countering it, he focuses on supporting it.

His eyes are closed, but Kid can tell without looking how hard Black Star is concentrating, because he can feel it. Despite their lack of weapon partners, Kid and Black Star’s connection remains steady and strong. He can feel how hard Black Star is pushing his wavelength outwards, harder than he’s tried to the entire time he’s been trapped here.

Kid grits his teeth through the hot stabs of pain and simply believes. Believes in Black Star, who’s never given up on anything in his life. The Black Star who’s all obnoxious laughs and cocky grins. The Black Star who shouts to the whole world that he’s the best, and then strives every moment of every day to prove it.

Every time the electricity lets up, the pain starts to fade, Kid’s soul pushes up against Black Star’s insistently, urgently reminding him that giving up is not his nature, and he won’t let it start now.

“C’mon,” Kid says, through gritted teeth. He leans forward, knocking his forehead into Black Star’s. “You can do this. If anyone can, it’s you.”

The pain gets worse, fire blazing all of Kid’s cells. One of them is shaking, or maybe both of them are, and Black Star lets out a roar—

Come on, Black Star. Kid prays. He’s so close. Come on come on come on—

The shaking gets stronger, and Kid knows now that it’s not coming from him. He cracks open one eye, peering above them, where Black Star’s wrists are straining and straining—

Kid shoots all the encouragement he can through his wavelength, hoping it reaches him, hoping he knows—

“YAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!”

Quick as a heart attack, the shackles snap, the heavy metal separating and crashing to the ground.

Black Star and Kid come crashing down too. Kid can hardly think through the pain, but instinctually his arms wrap around Black Star and twists, so Kid absorbs most of the impact as they land on the checkered tile in a heap.

Neither of them can speak right away. Black Star lays on Kid’s chest, breathing heavily. They’re both probably fried to hell, but Kid can’t even focus on that. His whole body feels lighter than air. He’s never been so happy to hear one of Black Star’s obnoxious “yahoo”s before.

He sits up after a while, knowing full well that Black Star is in no condition to be supporting himself right now. Thankfully, Kid is always here to help with that.

He props himself up on his elbows, looking down at the length of his body, where Black Star is still covering most of him. Through all the blood and bruises—and looking more than a little fried around the edges—Black Star is smiling brilliantly.

And his wavelength. Kid can finally sense it again. He didn’t know he could miss the feeling of someone’s soul as much as this. He never wants to part from it again.

When Black Star starts to laugh, Kid can’t help but laugh with him.

“We did it,” Black Star says giddily.

Kid shakes his head. “You did it. I knew you could.”

Black Star shuffles a bit, struggling to pull himself up into a sitting position. He tries to move his arms and just ends up wincing. Kid helps, sitting up the rest of the way and pulling Black Star up with him.

Black Star leans on Kid heavily. Kid bares the weight of him easily; he’ll never do anything to push him away again.

“Kid?” Black Star asks.

Kid turns to look at him. “Hm?”

And Black Star kisses him.

It’s short and sweet, over before Kid can even respond, but when Black Star pulls away, Kid’s mouth remembers the warmth of it.

“Thank you,” he says simply.

Kid blinks owlishly. He can feel it. He wants to revel in it, he really does, but he needs to know. “Was that—is that just a thank you kiss?” He feels stupid to even ask, but he can’t misinterpret this again. “Or was it…?”

It’s not encouraging that Black Star has to think about it for a moment.

“That can be a thank you kiss, sure,” Black Star says thoughtfully.

Kid tries not to deflate. He’s so busy schooling his expression he isn’t prepared for when Black Star ducks in and brushes his lips to Kid’s again. He leans back to look Kid in the eyes. “And that was an ‘I’m sorry’ kiss.”

When he leans in a third time, Kid is ready for it. He captures Black Star’s mouth with his, making sure he kisses back with equal fervor.

Black Star pulls back, looking dazed and happy.

“And that one is just because I wanted to,” Black Star says contently.

Kid’s heart is a bird, soaring through blue skies.

Part of him never wants to leave this moment. Sitting in this magic prison, his pantleg soaked through from the puddle of blood they’re sitting in, with Black Star warm in his arms, kissing him just because he wants to. They’ll leave soon, and find help, and finally get out of this stupid Book once and for all. But for a moment Kid wants just this.

He twists the ring on his right index finger, then the one on his left. Black Star watches the action, his soul overflowing with affection.

“What?” Kid asks.

“I love it, when you do that,” he says like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You always make sure to twist both.”

It makes Kid flush, to think about someone would be paying attention to the little things he does like that. Though, he did just spend the last couple minutes beaming into Black Star’s soul all the little things he loves about him. Maybe love goes both ways like that.

Symmetrical, Kid thinks.

He doesn’t say it though. He doesn’t need to.

#chibiverb 2024 #reverb 2024 #death the kid #black star #deathstar #kidstar #soul eater #soul eater manga #my writing #se fic

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haleswallows · 6 months ago

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I will not ask where you came from (Deleted Scene)

A deleted scene for "I will not ask where you came from", my fic for Dead on May-n week. Inspired by @roanawayspoons in the HH server, where they linked this and said it's perfect for puppy!Jason.

CW: NSFW, anal sex, fingering, light pet play

Jason is excited to reveal his new helmet. He's spent a lot of time designing it, ready for a refreshing new look. It's just... a coincidence. The dog-like features. Siren lives rent free in his mind, ok? It wasn't on purpose. Jason is not responsible for his subconscious.

Siren raises an eyebrow, bright red lips pressed to disguise their smirk when Jason first shows them. Lounged on his couch, their dressing gown falls open slightly to reveal toned legs. "Oh, puppy," they demure. "You spoil me. You're so pretty with your new helmet." He can't help but preen under their praise. When they command him to his knees, he goes without single hesitation and kneels at their side. The finger under his chin has his eyes fluttering closed, and Jason obligingly tilts his head back.

“Is this way your way of making sure everyone knows?” The finger traces a line along the seam where flesh meets metal, the slightest scratch of a long nail. “You like being my puppy this much?”

Jason knows the rules. He's a good boy. “Yes.” The new voice modulator grinds the word into a rough growl. Siren does smirk then, grazing a finger over the molded fangs.

“This is very nice, perfect for my puppy.” They playfully tap the subtle snout. “Well, come on then, strip. Show me the helmet without all these distractions.”

Siren likes to tease but not be teased. He does make a show of stripping, muscles flexing and stretching. But it always goes quickly. They reel him in by the buckle while he shucks off the vest, then gloves. “Let me help. You have so many layers.”

While his arms are tangled in this shirt, Siren undoes the belt, then button, then zipper. Without pushing the pants down, Siren slides their hand between compression shorts and the outer armored layer.

“No cup? Oh puppy, did you prepare for me?” They press a finger against the rapidly hardening underside of his cock, balls drawing up with his gasp. “Am I going to find another treat?”

Jason struggles to find words. Even after months and months of this game, Siren's rules, Jason's still so responsive, left gasping.

“Puppy?” Siren gently prompts, beginning to withdraw.

It takes a few gulps of air to get there. Jason chokes out “One more surprise.”

His efforts earn a reward. Siren wraps a hand around his dick through the soft fabric. They squeeze slightly on an upstroke, teasing the head. “Good boy. You're so good for me, and just me. Wanna show me?”

The praise makes Jason flush, reddening from chest and up his neck. His face feels warm in the helmet. “Yes,” he repeats.

Sadly it means Siren releases his cock, allowing him to toe out of the steel toed boots, unbuckle hostlers, and shove the pants down. Jason’s embarrassed for a second before the compression shorts join the mess of clothes on the floor. All it takes is a half lidded look from Siren, their eyes hungrily tracing from chest to toe, flicking back up to the helmet.

They swirl a finger lazily. Jason obeys, pausing just a moment when his back is turned. “Oh,” Siren breathes out. “Come here.”

He kneels again. Siren cups the cheek of the helmet in their hand and encourages him to prop his arms onto the couch cushion. Instinctually, Jason leans into it, missing the feel of their palm a little bit.

Siren finally sits up from their relaxed lounge, legs bracketing him. Jason's practically in their lap and fully hard now. Their other hand skates up his arm, drawing patterns into his bicep with a nail. He flexes his arms without thinking, Siren giggling.

“That looks new. Were you excited to buy it? Couldn't wait to show me?” Siren pulls him to sit up straighter, pinches a nipple. With a gasp, Jason arches his back, sits as pretty as he can.

“Yes.” Jason was excited. Is excited, the press of the plug a little bigger than his usual preferred toy. It had taken a little effort to get it in, Jason had nearly come while fingering himself open, thoughts of Siren forefront.

“So cute,” they coo, pressing a kiss to the temple of the helmet. “It matches your helmet. You look so good in red, puppy. Now the question is do you want the toy, or me?”

Jason shorts out for a moment. He trembles as Siren distracts him with wandering hands. As he opens his mouth, Siren pressed a kiss to his neck, scrapes teeth over the skin. Jason gasps, words flying from his head. Groans when Siren bites harder.

“Words, pretty boy.” A grin pressed into his neck, a hand reaching down his back, a barely there brush of a finger at the base of his tailbone.

He pants. Half crazy from the plug and the constant stimulation. Jason needs to be touched. “You.” His voice is strangled.

“Well, get up here. I'm not getting on the floor.”

Jason slowly crawls up, Siren directing him to lean over the armrest. He feels exposed, hemlet pressed into the fabric, arms curled under his chest. It puts him ass up, cock heavy and hanging between his thighs.

“Just look at you. Beautiful.” Siren admires, pressing a kiss to the small of his back. Jason squirms, pleased with himself and relishing the praise. Then nearly jumps out his skin when Siren suddenly grabs his balls.

He can barely concentrate on what Siren says, focused entirely on the hand slowly kneading the sack. “I'm going to fuck you, your hands stay right there. No touching yourself, I want you to come on just my dick, Jason. Do you understand? Will you be good?”

“Yes.” He can be good. He can be so good. Something breaks in his brain a little bit, overwhelmed with the promise of being fucked, the promise of more than teasing touches. “Yes, I understand. Please, I'll be good, I'll be good. Please, Siren.”

Siren drapes over his back. A kiss to the nape of his neck gentle and soothing. “Please, what?” A finger presses on the plug, pushing the flare against the stretched rim. He pants.

“Fuck me, fuck me, please. Siren, I want your cock. Want to come for you, want to be a good boy.” The begging erupts from him, Jason wrapped up in the press of Siren's silken dressing gown all along his back, the way their legs frame his.

“Relax for me,” Siren commands, biting the juncture between neck and shoulder. Jason melts into the sharpness of the feeling, breaking through his general fog of need and arousal.

The plug slides out. For a moment, Jason is stretched too wide, too much. Then suddenly he's empty, bereft, clenching on nothing. “Oh, honey.”

A single finger slips easily in, hole still wet with the smear of lube from fingering himself. Jason's hands twitch. He clenches them, and shoves them under his chin.

A second finger joins the first. Siren hums, slowly scissoring them. They're always so gentle with Jason, so careful as they open him up. “We need a little more lube, sweetheart.”

“Ah,” Jason twitches. It's a few heartbeats before his brain produces a coherent thought. “Pants pocket.”

They laugh. “Of course. My clever puppy, always thinking ahead.” But it means they remove their fingers to lean for the pants, rooting around in the pockets. When Jason shivers at the loss, Siren runs a hand up his flank, presses a thumb to his hole. “Patience. Don't wanna hurt you, baby boy. You're being so good, I'm going to take care of you. You know what you get when you're good?”

Jason nods into the armrest, eyes squeezed shut. Siren removes their hand. They lightly swat his ass. “Words, puppy.”

“I get rewards.” He twists his head, getting Siren into his peripheral. Their smile is sweet, eyes crinkling with it.

The reward is Siren pushing two lube slicked fingers into his ass. Jason groans long and shamelessly. After a few moments, Siren easily adds a third finger.

They mouth lines of kisses across the broad span of his shoulders. Fingers pump slowly in and out of his hole, a maddening pace only barely enough to keep him hard. The pads of Siren's fingers just graze his prostate every few strokes.

Jason is melting. He's burning and panting and fighting every instinct to grip his cock. If he doesn't get more, he's going to scream. Or cry. A chant starts pouring out of him. “Siren, please. I'm ready, I want you, more, please. I… it feels so good, please, please can I…?”

Siren surges forward, pressing their weight all along his back. Their dick slots behind his balls. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you? You asked so nicely, it’d be mean of me to make you wait more.”

They gently remove their fingers. There's the sound of the lube opening again and Jason takes the opportunity to catch his breath. He uncurls his arms, bracing hands on the armrest.

Then groans again at the stretch of Siren's dick pushing into him. It's slow but delicious. in all the right ways. Jason sets his hips against the push, allowing Siren to rest against him. Siren breathes out a long satisfied sigh against the top of his spine when they finally fully seat inside him. A heartbeat of stillness, Siren caresses his sides in an upward sweep. They pause to grope his pecs before slotting their hands together.

“You have no clue how good you feel, puppy.” Siren presses a kiss to the nape of his neck. With a long slow withdrawal, Jason squeezes their hands. He knows what’s next. He’s been a good boy. They pull out until the ridge of their cock head pulls at the rim. The thrust is hard, driving Jason’s breath out.

Siren’s pace is cruel. Each thrust hard, but just shy of fast enough. Jason writhes under it. He hangs his head, lifts it again, clenches his hands and thighs in turn, arching his back. All the while, his cock and balls ache. Jason needs more, certain a single touch would put him over the edge but Siren keeps a hold of his hands. The sound of their fucking is obscene, and if Jason had even an of sanity to spare, he’d be a ashamed of the continual whine and gasps and mewls he’s making.

It’s obvious when Siren starts to get close. They release Jason’s hands to pull his hips closer, encouraging him to sit up. Impossibly it drives their cock deeper. Siren noses against his neck. “Beautiful and you don’t even realize, god you feel so good. You don’t know what you do to me, puppy. It’s like you were made for me. Can you come without me touching you today?” Every word brings heat to Jason’s chest, he shudders.

And they wrap a hand around the base of his neck, the barest hint of pressure against his throat. Jason comes, losing his voice as pleasure rips through him. Siren keeps up the brutal pace, fucking him through his orgasm.

“Good boy. You’re so good for me, you’re perfect. Stay just like that, puppy.” Strong arms keep him upright, the thrust not stuttering. Jason gets lost in it – the haze of endorphins and praise. Beyond all reason, Jason gets hard again. “Look at you. Filthy, you like it that much? Oh puppy, are you going to come again for me? Can you?”

Siren presses him into the couch, bending him forward until the helmet meets cushion. Jason’s hips tilt and then he’s seeing stars with each thrust. He scrabbles against the fabric, trying to gain purchase to push back. “Right there, huh. You’ve been marvelous. I’m so close, puppy.”

They pant against his shoulder. “Come. Come, Jason.” The command is paired with a hand on his cock, stroking in time with the thrusts. “You can do it, puppy. Beautiful boy.”

It isn’t Jason’s first dry orgasm. It definitely won’t be his last. Still it shocks Jason, amazed by the way it rocks through him and makes his toes curl. He clenches and finally Siren’s hips stutter. Warmth of a different sort fills him, and Jason swears his dick twitches as if inspired to try for a third.

Time gets a little fizzy for Jason as he focuses on catching his breath, only gasping once Siren pulls out. Sensation slowly returns to his numb limbs. “Careful, honey bee. There you go,” Siren coos gently, guiding Jason to lay on his side. “There’s a wet spot there. We made a mess, huh. You stay put.”

Vaguely, he hears the padding of feet. He concentrates on wiggling his fingers and then toes. “You want this off? Oh babe, you must be boiling in there.” Jason obligingly rolls his head so Siren can access the release on the back. The rush of cool air is a relief, he barely noticed how warm he was.

Jason hums, cracking an eye open when Siren begins combing fingers through his sweaty hair. “You poor thing, you’re drenched. Wanna get showered?” Absolutely not. The thought of getting up just then is abhorrent, so Jason shakes his head. “No words right now? That’s ok, puppy. Let me get you a little cleaned up and a towel down. Will you have some water for me?”

The washcloth is warm on his skin. When Siren finishes, they press a kiss to his hip bone. He sits up just long enough to drain most of a glass of water. Flopping onto his back, Jason sprawls across the couch.

“Scooch, how am I supposed to cuddle you if there’s no room?” Jason squints at them, but doesn't move. “It's like you think this will stop me.”

They clamber onto him, slotting themselves between his legs to fold arms over his chest. “It's like you think this wasn't my plan,” Jason comments. As Siren settles, he loops his arms around their back.

There's blissful silence for about three seconds. Siren wiggles. “Hey, you ever thought about soaking? Cock warming?”

Jason groans, and not in pleasure. No, he hasn't. But now he is… and, huh. That's new. He considers it, finds he might like that.

“You'd be so cute stuffed with my cock for hours. We could get a mirror for the bedroom, make it so you can see. Your asshole is amazing. You'd be a great cock warmer.”

When Jason doesn't answer, Siren pauses. “We don't have to. You know my rules, no means –.”

“No, I know. I'm not saying no. Just… give me a few days?” Siren smothers a smile.

“Of course. We can make a whole thing of it. Let me spoil you. Buy us dinner, get some sweet treats, something nice for a bath after. Yeah? Sound good?” They beam at him, and Jason is hopeless.

“You've ruined me.” It makes them laugh, bright and happy. “How are you always like this? You have too much energy.”

They hum, kiss his pec. “Can't help it. Hey, you patrolling tonight?”

Maybe if he could feel his legs. “Nah, I'll do gear and weapons maintenance.”

“Good, you deserve the rest. Want me to grab something to eat when I'm done?” They idly trace a scar on his bicep. “I can even get you some of those disgusting chili dogs.”

“Disgusting, they say. As if you didn't text me last week to beg for four of them.”

They flap hands vaguely in his face, shooing away the teasing remark. “Wait! If I do a seance for Nana Franny again, do you think she’ll make me more birria?”

Jason catches their hands, smoothes a thumb over the bare nails. “Nah, she called yesterday. Her oven is acting up. I’ll go fix it and then we’ll be birria rich.” Siren gasps.

“It’s fate! Hey, wanna pick a couple colors for my nails? You have a good eye. Don’t just pick reds though, puppy.” A phone, lodged somewhere in the couch, starts ringing. Siren surges up for a kiss, digging it from between the armrest and cushion at the same time. “And now I have to start getting ready.”

When Jason bench presses by their hips, Siren makes an appreciative ‘ooh’. Mostly Jason does it to avoid their flailing limbs, and inevitable elbow to the solar plexus he always gets when Siren scrambles off his chest.

“You stay put, puppy. Rest. Drink lots of water.” They pat his chest, then trot down the hall. “Wait, have you ever thought about shibari?”

“Stop it!”

#dead on main #dc x dp fic #SO MUCH SMUT #my writing #DNI INRY #DNI minors #please i swear to fuck #not beta read

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scary-grace · 24 days ago

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Enough to Go By (Chapter 19) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Chapter 19

“I still don’t get it,” Twice says. “What happened?”

You could ask the same question, and you have. You and the rest of the League are in Tomura’s hospital room, trying to piece together the chain of events that occurred in Deika City, and you can’t agree on anything. Everybody has gaps in their timeline, things they weren’t there for or were unconscious during or simply disagree on, as you and Dabi discover when you mention that you shot at his opponent to disorient them and he insists that he didn’t need any fucking help. “Why do we need to know what happened at all?” Tomura asks. He’s awake but fairly high on painkillers, and you can tell that all he wants is for everybody to shut up so he can go back to sleep. “We won. That’s it.”

“It almost wasn’t a win,” Spinner says. You and he are in agreement on that, at least. “If it wasn’t for Saintess’s quirk –”

“I can’t believe you have a quirk now!” Toga hugs you, then winces. “Ow. It’s the perfect quirk for you! Don’t you like it?”

“Spinner’s right. Our strategy was shit,” Dabi says. “We got split up. If we hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been stuck handling the ice bitch on my own.”

“You weren’t on your own,” Compress points out. “Saintess and I assisted you.”

“Fuck off.”

“I agree with Spinner. And with Dabi.” You add the last part only grudgingly. “We took way too much damage. That might not have happened if we’d stuck together.”

“We sort of stuck together!” Twice says. “I stuck us together with my ultimate attack! I’m calling it ‘Sad Man’s Parade’, because I was sad when I did it. But I’m not sad now!”

“We couldn’t have won without you,” Tomura says. Twice is pretty obviously beaming behind his mask. “All of you were important to the victory. But –”

He tries to sit up, grimaces. You slide one hand behind his back to support him while you adjust the bed, but then he leans against you instead of leaning back. You’re not exactly going to push him away, and he doesn’t speak up again. “But like I said,” Spinner says, filling in, “you’d have been dead if Saintess didn’t have a quirk.”

“And if she didn’t love you so much,” Toga says, elbowing you in the ribs until you wince. “I’m so glad you have a love quirk, too!”

You’re not sure you’d classify your quirk or Toga’s as a love quirk. You’re not sure how you’d classify your quirk, period, but you don’t hate having it. You’re grateful that you have it. Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Nobody’s looked into your quirk very much, except for someone whose quirk lets them detect quirks who confirmed that you have one, and so far all that’s changed is that the members of the MLA are much nicer to you than they would have been otherwise. Re-Destro in particular is a fan of yours – he admires loyalty, he says, and the fact that you took the time to help him too doesn’t hurt. For your part, you hate him. You’re not going to forget what he did to Tomura, and you know he’s only treating you well because you didn’t turn out to be quirkless after all, but you keep that under wraps. Even with your quirk, in most situations, your other skills still matter more.

But not in this one. In this one, with Tomura in a hospital bed and your quirk somehow helping him heal, your quirk is the only thing that matters.

“The doctor is coming here,” Compress says. He’s the only person who survived the fight with his earpiece intact – Tomura, Twice, Spinner, and Toga all lost theirs, Dabi claims he lost his but probably torched it instead, and you winged yours at the floor and crushed it midway through one of Tomura’s surgeries because the doctor wouldn’t shut up about your quirk. “He wants to discuss next steps, and to investigate Saintess’s quirk for himself.”

“Next steps for what? We don’t need him anymore.”

That comes from Tomura, and it’s a surprise to everybody. “What is that supposed to mean?” Dabi asks. “He’s the one who makes the Nomus.”

“We’ve got an army. We don’t need them.” Tomura’s refusing to open his eyes, and you’d believe he’s falling asleep if you couldn’t feel how tense he is. “We don’t need his money, either, and Gigantomachia follows me now. He can go to hell.”

“We should hear him out, at least. Don’t you think?” Compress ventures. “More power couldn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, if he can give us more stuff, we should take it,” Spinner agrees, glancing warily between you and Tomura – like this might be your idea, instead of right now being the first time you’ve heard anything about it. “Let’s hear him out.”

“Whatever.” Tomura finally quits leaning against you and flops back against the bed. “Did you all figure out what happened yet?”

Compress turns back to the whiteboard you’ve all been using to create a timeline – or timelines. There are seven markers, seven different colors of ink. One for each of you. “At the start of the rest period, we received the threat from the Meta Liberation Army, as well as the news that they’d kidnapped Giran. Shigaraki, you came up with the plan to use the MLA against Gigantomachia, and the doctor transported all of us –”

“Almost all of us,” Toga corrects, patting your arm lightly.

“Almost all of us to the outskirts of Deika City,” Compress continues. “We enter the city, split up, and engage the MLA sources. Toga and Twice are initially fighting alone, while Dabi and I and Spinner and Shigaraki proceed separately. Dabi and I meet resistance in the form of Geten – ”

“Ice bitch.”

“If you must,” Compress says, and Twice snorts. “Spinner and Shigaraki also meet resistance, but for the time being, they make progress. And at some point while all of us are fighting, the doctor transports Saintess to the outskirts of the city and sends her in to support us.”

Spinner looks confused. “Wait, was that before or after the Sad Man’s Parade?”

“Before,” you say. “I took a few shots at the – um, Ice Bitch –”

“You fucking didn’t.”

“I missed,” you say. “Then I chased after Spinner and Tomura, and that was when the Sad Man’s Parade happened. One of Twice’s clones caught me.”

“Really?” Twice asks. “What happened to it?”

“It tried to take me out of the city,” you say. “I – sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Twice says magnanimously. He reaches across Tomura’s hospital bed to pat your arm. “Anyway, that was after I rescued Toga –”

“Which was after I beat the one they sent after me,” Toga says. “I used Ochako’s blood – and if I love somebody enough, I can use their quirk, too! I love having a love quirk!”

She’s hugging you again. Compress is making a few edits to the timelines to accurately mark the Sad Man’s Parade. “Toga’s injuries remove her from the fight. Twice sends clones to aid Spinner and Shigaraki, and Saintess pursues them as well. Shigaraki, and the clones head to the tower where Re-Destro and Skeptic are waiting for them, but Spinner is held up, and Saintess aids him.”

“By murking a guy,” Spinner says. He still looks surprised. “It was nuts.”

“So you finally got your hands dirty,” Dabi remarks. He gives you an appraising look. “Took you long enough. Compress. Put it on the timeline.”

“As what?”

Dabi’s smirking. “Baby’s first kill.”

“Fuck off,” Tomura mutters. He hasn’t opened his eyes. “Twice cloned me, Dabi, and Compress and sent the clones ahead to the tower to draw fire and rescue Giran. I brought the tower down when I got there. Then I beat Re-Destro and took over his army. That’s it.”

“We’re missing a few things,” Compress says, and Tomura snarls under his breath. “Gigantomachia’s arrival, for one. He drew the remaining MLA members’ attention quite successfully and prevented them from assisting Re-Destro against you. You also received some backup from your sidekick during the fight.”

“I didn’t do very much,” you say. “I was there, I guess. Once Tomura’s quirk awakened he didn’t need backup from anyone.”

Compress makes a few adjustments to the timelines. “There. Are we all in agreement?” It’s quiet for a second. “I think we can agree that some errors were made.”

“We had two seconds to plan,” Tomura says. “It could have been worse.”

Spinner gives him an incredulous look. “How?”

“I’m tired,” Tomura says, instead of answering. “Get out. Figure out what went wrong and how to fix it if you want, but do it somewhere else.”

He’s in a bad mood, worse than he’s been since he woke up, and you’re not sure why. Nobody else seems concerned as to why, either – instead they get up and head for the door, Compress carrying the whiteboard and all the markers. As the door shuts behind them, you can hear them discussing lunch. Specifically, what fancy food they’re going to order on Re-Destro’s dime. Most of them have been having real meals only sporadically. Whatever they choose, you hope they order the entire menu.

But Tomura hasn’t said if he wants you to stay. You try to get to your feet, but Tomura catches your sleeve between the two remaining fingers on his left hand and pulls lightly. Lightly is all he can manage right now. “Not you.”

“Okay.” You sit down at the edge of the bed again. “I just wanted to check.”

“Never you.” Tomura pulls weakly at your sleeve again. “Closer.”

“I don’t think closer will make any difference with my quirk.”

Tomura gives you a look. It’s obscured a bit by the bandages on his face, but it’s unmistakably irritated. “It’s not for your quirk,” he says. “I need to touch my girlfriend.”

“But not your sidekick.”

“Shut up.” Tomura yanks at your sleeve a third time. “Come here.”

You kick off your shoes and settle into the limited space available on the bed, kicking yourself for hesitating for even a second. You shouldn’t give Tomura a hard time. He’s been through hell. But you weren’t giving him a hard time on purpose, you don’t think. You’ve got your own reasons. They’re stupid, but you have them.

And even when he’s doped up on painkillers, Tenko can guess them, because he knows you better than anyone. “It’s not for your quirk,” he says. He’s grimacing as he shuffles on the bed, trying to get closer and comfortable at the same time. “Don’t be stupid. I love you. Nothing’s changed.”

“Everything’s changed.” You close your eyes.

“Not us.” Tenko sounds sure. He’s never anything but sure when it comes to the two of you, and it’s sort of a relief. “Never us.”

“Okay.” You turn your head to kiss his shoulder lightly. It’s one of the only places on his body that’s not bandaged. “I love you, too. Get some rest.”

The two of you are quiet, but you know Tenko isn’t asleep, and you haven’t slept in days yourself. You should be able to sleep, but you can’t, and if neither of you are asleep, you have questions. “Why don’t you want the doctor’s help anymore?”

“I don’t need it.”

“That’s not the only reason,” you say. Tenko makes a dissatisfied sound. “Tell me.”

“He betrayed me.” Tenko’s voice is cold, furious, even through a layer of narcotics. “I told him to keep you away. I said I didn’t want you anywhere near it. He sent you right into the middle of it with a gun –”

“I got the gun on my own,” you say. “I’ve been practicing.”

“You should never have been there.” Tenko’s heart is beating faster. You set your hand on his chest, over his heart, as if you can slow it down on your own. “There’s no point to it if you die.”

Your stomach lurches. “Don’t say that.”

“You say it all the time,” Tenko says. “You said you don’t want to be in the new world unless I’m in it with you. How is what I said any different?”

It’s not. You want it to be, but it’s not – it’s just a different phrasing of the same sentiment. You let it stand. “I needed to be there,” you say. “If I hadn’t been, you’d have died.”

“He didn’t send you in there for me.” Tenko twists awkwardly, trying to get closer to you. “He was trying to wake up your quirk.”

You’d guessed, sort of. Based on all the yammering he was doing while you were trying to keep your quirk active during Tenko’s surgeries, this outcome is the one he was hoping for when he sent you into the middle of the fight between the League of Villains and the Meta Liberation Army. The League got four quirk awakenings for the price of one battle with the clash in Deika City – Toga’s ability to use the quirks of those she changes into, Twice’s ability to create infinite clones, Tenko’s ability to spread Decay like a virus, and your ability to keep Tenko alive. The doctor must be thrilled. No wonder he’s coming here.

“He betrayed me,” Tenko says again. “I don’t want him anywhere near us. If he comes here I’ll – damn it –”

He hisses with pain. How long has it been since his last painkiller dose? You sit up and nudge the pain-relief button within Tenko’s reach. He shakes his head. “I don’t need it.”

“You need to sleep. It’ll be harder to sleep if you’re in pain.” You look him over, taking in the awful things that have been done to him, and feel another awkward, terrible stab of gratitude for your quirk. Your greatest fear is losing him again, but your quirk made sure you wouldn’t have to. “If you won’t do it for you, for me? I won’t sleep well if I know you’re hurting.”

“Do you even sleep anymore?” Tenko somehow manages to look skeptical. “You look like hell. Pretty. But like hell.”

You sit there with that for a second. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever called me pretty.”

“I said it before. When we were kids.” Tenko presses the pain-relief button three times in a row. “You can’t say it’s just the meds talking.”

You weren’t going to say that. You settle in next to Tenko again, wrapping your arms gingerly around him to avoid any more thrashing around on his part. “Get some rest, okay?”

“Tell me about it.”

“Hmm?”

“The new world.” Tenko’s voice is fuzzy already. “Your stories are always better than mine.”

The new world isn’t just a story. You almost correct him before you remember that the two of you are living in one of your childhood stories right now, that you’ve taken it and made it real. Maybe this is how you’ll convince Tenko, how you’ll make him see what you see, make him follow you. There are worse ways to do it. A lot of them.

“The new world,” you start. “Okay. If it’s a totally blank slate – all the cities and everything are gone – we’ll need somewhere to live, first of all. And humans are social creatures. We survive by helping each other. That’s how it’s supposed to be in this world, but it isn’t, so in the new world, that’s how we’ll do things. We’ll need somewhere to live, and we’ll need people we want to live near, so we can work together and start to build something new.”

“What if I don’t get rid of everything?”

You were hoping he’d say that. “Then we’ll find somewhere to fix up.”

Tenko’s voice is blurry with sleep and painkillers, but you can still hear the concern. “I don’t know how to fix things.”

“That’s okay.” You kiss his shoulder and huddle close to him. “I love you. And I do.”

It takes a few more days for the question of your quirk to come up in earnest, a few more days of Tenko healing markedly faster than he should be healing, a few more days of you barely leaving his side. When you do leave, it’s not by choice – it happens when four days without sleep catch up to you and you pass out in the middle of a strategy discussion being held in Tomura’s hospital room. And when you leave, you don’t go far. You wake up in a dark, quiet room in clean clothes and on a soft bed, with an IV taped down to the back of your hand.

You sit up so fast that your head spins, but you still manage to rip the needle out. In the darkness, someone tsks at you. “Fluids, my dear. You’re in dire need of rehydration.”

The doctor. “Where’s Tomura?” you demand.

“In his hospital room, asleep,” the doctor says. “It’s an ideal time to conduct some tests of your quirk – namely, whether distance is a factor in its efficacy.”

Oh. “How much distance?”

“Currently, the opposite end of the hospital,” the doctor says. “I’ve spoken to Shigaraki’s doctors, to Twice and Spinner, to Re-Destro, and to the medics who were in the helicopter with you. I’ve also conducted research into your family tree. Shall I tell you what I’ve already learned about your quirk?”

You want to tell him that you don’t care about your quirk, but you can’t say that – not when your quirk is part of the reason Tomura’s still alive. And you have to find out what your quirk can actually do. “Yes.”

“I fault myself, truly, for not guessing sooner,” the doctor says, instead of saying anything useful. Your eyes are adjusting to the darkness, and you can see him bustling around, outlined in the glow from three computer screens. “I looked into your immediate family, but there was another family member – one whose quirk also broke late, and one whose quirk is directly tied to the biochemical reaction we call love. Your cousin, Aiba Manami, also known as La Brava. I understand you visited her in jail the day of the battle. Did you discuss your quirk?”

“No,” you say. The doctor tsks again. “We didn’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mm, I suppose you’re right – based on the video from the visitation room, neither of you discussed quirks directly.” The doctor taps something on one of the screens, and it brightens suddenly, but his body blocks your view. “But it’s clear to me that your cousin guessed the mechanism by which your quirk functions, if nothing else. It’s why she prevented you from saying the words until – what was it that she said? Until it counts. You certainly did that. However –”

A machine beeps in the darkness. The doctor talks over it. “Circumstantial evidence suggests that neither the repetition of the statement in the presence of the object of your affection nor your proximity to the object of your affection affects the functioning of your quirk.”

That’s a lot of words at once, and although you were following for a while, you’re starting to get dizzy. “Say again?”

“Thus far, your quirk differs from your cousin’s in two important capacities,” the doctor says. “The first is the effect. While your cousin’s quirk provides a significant boost to the speed and power of her loved one, your quirk provides a slight acceleration of your loved one’s natural healing abilities.”

“How slight?”

“On a day to day basis, unnoticeable,” the doctor says. “The more significant the damage is, the more obvious the accelerated healing becomes. Which leads me to the second difference between your cousin’s quirk and yours: Duration. While La Brava’s quirk lasts for a discrete period of time, and can be activated only once per day, it would seem that your quirk, once activated, does not switch off.”

“That’s how it works in my side of the family,” you say. The doctor looks at you. The light from the screens reflects off his glasses, rendering him completely opaque. “Your quirk is active from when you’re born until you learn to –”

You trail off. “The biochemical reaction known as love isn’t something that can be switched on and off,” the doctor says. “I separated you from Shigaraki four hours ago. Those who were in the meeting you collapsed during were able to confirm that you had not told Shigaraki you loved him since the meeting began two hours previously. That makes six hours without the trigger phrase, four hours of which you spent physically separated from him, and during that time, the accelerated healing has not faltered.”

“So it doesn’t matter if I’m physically with him, or if I’ve said it recently,” you say slowly. “The first time I said it was all it needed. And it’ll stay active –”

“Unless your feelings for Shigaraki change. And I suspect they won’t,” the doctor says. He chuckles quietly. “You’ve been loyal to him for most of your life, after all. Why stop now?”

Even confused as you are, the jolt of foreboding knocks the air out of your lungs. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t play coy, dear. That act worked when you were a civilian, but now no one will believe you’re that naive.” The doctor bends to investigate something on one of the screens. “It took me a while to piece it together, of course – it seems your perceived quirklessness clouded my vision, too – but once I looked into your background, it became clear. You are perhaps the last remaining person who knew Shigaraki Tomura before he became Shigaraki Tomura. Tell me – did you doubt yourself at all upon learning what he had become?”

What, not who. The doctor doesn’t see Tomura as a person, not the way you do, and now he’s waiting for your answer about something he clearly doesn’t understand. “No,” you say. You were doomed from the moment you saw him again. His return disrupted your life the same as his disappearance did, only this time, he’s with you. You were never going to let him go. “Never.”

“Remarkable,” the doctor says. You can see that he’s smiling. “Every Symbol of Fear needs one servant who’s loyal above all others, who serves him above all others, who does something for him that no one else could. Shigaraki’s master has me. Shigaraki has you.”

The idea of an equivalence between you and the doctor makes your skin crawl, the same as the idea that Tomura and his master are the same. They aren’t. You knew him before. They aren’t the same at all. “What could you do for Tomura’s master that no one else can?”

“Why, keep him alive, of course!”

“You have a healing quirk?”

“Precision of language. If I had a healing quirk, do you think I’d be a doctor?” The doctor clucks his tongue. It’s almost as irritating as the tsking. “No, my quirk is called Life-force. It allows the wielder to live twice an ordinary human lifespan. I offered this quirk to him, along with my service, and he accepted. The quirk I have currently is a copy of the original. I’d copy yours, but – mm. The emotional component makes it fairly useless to anyone other than yourself.”

Even when you have a quirk, you can’t escape being called useless. You grit your teeth. “We’ll need to conduct some further tests, but those can wait until Shigaraki has healed completely,” the doctor says. “In the meantime, we’ll need a name for your quirk. Initially, I thought that Devotion might be appropriate –”

“Does it need a name?” you interrupt. “All that matters is what it does.”

“But Shigaraki has many devoted followers,” the doctor says, ignoring you. “For loyalty like yours, something a little stronger is needed. I’ll think of something. Have a look at this.”

You get slowly to your feet, fighting dizziness, and come to peer at the screens. “This is a computer simulation of the natural course of Shigaraki’s injuries – what would have happened without the application of your quirk. Dire, isn’t it?”

Dire doesn’t begin to cover it. You see the same things unfold that the medic predicted. ATC, a rapid increase in internal bleeding, the slowing of his heart, the ceasing of his brain function as it’s deprived of blood and oxygen. Death within minutes. The doctor restarts the simulation, then runs a second one alongside it. This one, you recognize. It’s the same starting point, with your quirk added to the picture. No ATC. No deprivation of oxygen to the brain. His heart rate and breathing are unstable, courtesy of the damage, but as the simulation cycles through each successive scan, you can see the lacerations to his organs healing. You can see your quirk in action, keeping Tomura alive, long after the other simulation’s gone dark.

“That’s what your quirk is capable of, with nothing but Shigaraki’s natural healing factor to work with,” the doctor says. “I think we can all do better than that, don’t you?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will,” the doctor says. Something on the screen beeps. “Ah, Shigaraki is awake –and it appears he’s very unhappy with me. Best hurry along, dear. I’ll be in touch.”

You get lost on your way back to Tomura’s room, but a nurse points you in the right direction, and you get back in the middle of Spinner and Compress trying desperately to get Tomura to sit down – or at least to use his crutches if he’s going to tear off looking for you. Spinner spots you first, and it’s clear he’s relieved. “She’s back,” he says. “She’s fine. The doctor didn’t do anything to her.”

Tomura looks you up and down, not relieved yet. “What happened to your hand?”

“He put an IV in for fluids. I took it out when I woke up.” You might need to ask somebody to put in another one. You are really dehydrated. And hungry. And tired. “Everything’s fine. Get back in bed.

“If he thinks he can just kidnap you –”

“I took a nap for a few hours and he told me some more about my quirk,” you say. “That’s it.”

Tomura finally stops trying to stand up and walk. He sprawls back out in the bed, broken leg hanging off in a position that looks agonizing until you nudge past Spinner and lift it back onto the bed. He looks up at you. “What did he say about your quirk?”

“It’s sort of like my cousin’s,” you say. “In how it activates, anyway. It does something different – it makes you heal faster instead of powering you up – and the effect isn’t as pronounced as hers is.”

“Doesn’t your cousin’s quirk have a time limit?” Spinner asks. “What’s the time limit on yours?”

“It, um – it looks like there isn’t one,” you say awkwardly. “Once it switches on, it doesn’t switch off.”

“Weird,” Spinner says after a second. “Emitter-type quirks don’t usually stay on all the time.”

You wouldn’t know. You don’t think about quirks a lot – but Tomura does, and he’s got a weird look on his face. “What’s it costing you?”

“Hmm?”

“Your cousin’s quirk doesn’t cost her anything. The physical cost comes from the person she’s powering up,” Tomura says. “Most healing quirks use the energy of the person who’s being healed, which is why they have limits. Yours didn’t cost me or I would have died. What’s it costing you?”

“Not anything,” you say. “I don’t feel any different than usual.”

You don’t. Really. You’ve asked yourself the question – you remember Spinner saying something forever ago about how healing quirks take tons of mana – but you can’t think of anything that’s changed. You haven’t been able to sleep, sure, but you’ve been having problems with sleeping ever since Kamino. The issues you can think of can all be attributed to other things. If healing Tomura was draining your energy, wouldn’t you have been exhausted way before you passed out in a strategy session? “I don’t think there’s a cost to it,” you say again, settling down on the edge of Tomura’s bed. You’ve barely moved from this spot in days. “Did I miss anything from that meeting?”

“Nah, it broke up when you passed out,” Spinner says. “Honestly, we all thought you faked it to get us out of there. It was just Skeptic and what’s-his-name complaining that we aren’t committed enough to the cause.”

“Even if I didn’t fake it, I’m glad it helped,” you say. “They really had a whole meeting just to tell you guys you aren’t liberating hard enough?”

“No shit we aren’t. Their cause is bullshit. They want the same thing the heroes want, except with them on top.” It must have been a while since Tomura hit the pain-relief button. He’s in a really bad mood again. “The whole thing’s coming down. That includes them if they get in my way.”

“Maybe keep that part quiet for now,” you suggest. Spinner snorts. “This is just the same plan from before, right? Letting your enemies destroy each other and finishing the job when they’re too tired to keep fighting.”

Now that you think about it, that’s sort of Tomura’s MO – keeping to the shadows while his enemies duke it out, then stepping in to deal the final blow and stealing whatever they were fighting for. He did it with Stain, stealing Stain’s reputation to burnish the League’s after Stain showed up the heroes and was captured. He did it again with Overhaul and the heroes, and again with Gigantomachia and the MLA. It’s the right strategy for that kind of fight, one where you know you don’t have the brute force to win, but it’s not a strategy someone with a quirk as powerful as Tomura’s would jump to. Even after battling Gigantomachia for two months and defeating Re-Destro, Tomura still doesn’t fight like a supervillain. He fights like he’s quirkless. Just like you do. Just like you did.

You don’t see a problem with it. Spinner looks like he does. “We shouldn’t keep using the same plan.”

“We’ll keep using it as long as it keeps working,” Tomura says. He glances up at you, half a smirk on his face. “Just like your dumb jokes.”

“That was our old strategy,” you say, straightfaced. “If you can’t beat them, make them unfuckable instead.”

Tomura laughs, then grimaces as the motion strains his stitches. You haven’t heard him laugh in a while, and you feel better instantly – but at the same time, you’re conscious of Spinner staring, shocked. Has he really never heard Tomura laugh before? Is the difference between the person you love and the person the rest of the League knows really that big? No, you decide, they just aren’t used to him yet. And they’ve got a little time to get used to him. He’s who they’ll be living with in the new world, and although you’re closer to it than you’ve ever been, it’s still a long way away.

But you can help with the getting-used-to-it thing. “I mean, our track record is incredible,” you say. “We started off with All Might – hook a scarecrow up with a skeleton, and that’s what the whole society of potential All Might fuckers have to cope with now –”

Tomura is wheezing now. “And you’d think we couldn’t top that, but we’re not quitters,” you continue. That gets Spinner. He laughs a little bit, so you turn up the heat. “Plus Ultra, right? Overhaul was already pretty unfuckable, so the fact that we made it even worse really says something about our skills. And now we’ve got these guys, who – I’m sorry. Do we really think Skeptic gets laid?”

You have a feeling Skeptic is watching this from any one of his five million security cameras, but he already hates you for killing the other MLA lieutenant, so it doesn’t matter. The fact that Spinner and Tomura are both laughing now matters more, and you hear Compress chuckle quietly behind his mask. “I’d say our record’s perfect,” you finish. “The real question is where we go from here. Who do we have left?”

“Endeavor,” Spinner says. “But I don’t think he needs our help.”

Now you’re cackling – cackling, and thinking of Hirono, who one hundred percent thought Endeavor was fuckable. Hirono, who you miss. Just like you miss your friends. Just like part of you will always miss your boring, safe, normal life. “So we’re out of people to turn unfuckable,” Tomura decides. “I guess we just have to build the new world.”

The leap in logic is way too much for you. You burst out laughing, doubled over in a way that makes your bruised ribs ache, tears streaming down your face, and you try your hardest to imagine a new world. One that’s not like this one. One that’s full of things you like, just like Toga wants it to be. One where people like you and Spinner don’t have to be scared. One where people aren’t thrown away, one where the presence of heroes doesn’t give everyone else the ability to turn a blind eye to people who are being hurt in ways that can’t be solved by punching someone in the face. One where you and Tomura can be together, where there’s nothing left that he wants to destroy.

It’s a good world. A dream worth fighting for. But for the moment, while your new friends laugh and you struggle not to cry for the friends you lost, all you can think about is what’s already been left behind.

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