#exterminating all the scissors in the world | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jimlingss · 5 years ago

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Ghost in the Machine

➜ Words: 14.4k

➜ Genres: 100% Mild Angst, Android!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Namjoon is your android that’s modified to become the best serial killer in all of existence. But when he starts to learn about humanity, he begins to threaten your goals.

➜ Warnings: Explicit descriptions of murder and lots of it, gruesome details.

Namjoon opens his eyes. The first thing he sees is you. Your expression is blank, lips tight in a line, eyes darkened. And you greet him. “Hello. What is your name?” “Kim Namjoon,” he answers without needing to think twice. “Perfect.” You shift back so your face is no longer millimeters away from his and inspecting him closely. Your arms are placed behind your back and your chin lifts. “Do you know why you have been created?” It takes him a moment to locate the information of his purpose. “I was created to kill.”

Namjoon is an android. Model 120994 specifically. He has sharp sensors and agile actuators. But over the wires, harddrives and machinery that drive his thoughts and movements is a skin-like texture that hides his true identity from the naked eye. His face has also been shaped to be perceived positively and the most likeable — blonde hair, strong eyes, and dimples in his cheeks. Beyond a physical sense, Namjoon is advanced for what he is. He can understand thoughts, feelings, and expectations for how people want to be treated and can adjust his behavior accordingly. He is a humanoid robot with self-awareness and is able to make comprehensive decisions, respond eloquently, and interact with the world around him as any other human can. And his sole function is for extermination. “Who will I kill first?” Namjoon asks as he follows you to your modest living space — it is empty and white, lacking furniture and seemingly sterile. But he pays no mind to trivial details and cuts straight to the point only minutes after being activated in order to complete his task in the most efficient manner. “Min Junseo,” you answer and hand him a file folder that contains relevant information and a photograph as reference. “You are programmed to know the procedure, correct?” “Puncture the carotid artery for the quickest death,” he replies instantly in a monotone voice. You nod and your lips slightly quirk in satisfaction — it makes him glad to know he has appeased you. “They are deserving individuals and worthy of elimination.” “I understand,” he says despite not needing your reasoning in the first place. You are his creator after all. He will simply do as you say. // Within hours of the android’s awakening, he is already on the move to annihilate the first target. He lingers in the dark alley, standing motionlessly in the corner where the light from the street does not cast its shine. There are littered bottles discarded on the ground, cigarettes snubbed out, the dumpster not far from where he is and where you watch behind him. The door to the back of the bar finally opens. The music is deafening until it becomes muffled again when the steel doors shut, squeaking on its hinges. A woman has emerged and she leans against the graffitied brick wall, reaching into her pocket for a white pack. She places a cigarette between her red lips and takes out a lighter, thumb flicking at the tiny wheel a few times before the end is lit and she takes a few puffs. But then her eyes stray and she notices the two shadows in the corner of the alley. Her eyes widen as she feels your heavy gazes and she quickly walks towards the street where the light is, glancing over her shoulder a few times before disappearing. Namjoon never once breathes — he doesn’t need to. He merely stands there without blinking, like a stone statue, waiting patiently…...patiently...and eventually, the target exits the door. The man is holding trash bags in both hands, a red vest adorning his body with black trousers, name tag on the top left of his chest. He is a waiter at the bar Namjoon had been stalking. Min Junseo: A thirty years old male, height of one hundred seventy six centimeters and weight of sixty three kilograms, blood type O negative, allergic to penicillin, a high school graduate, no children or spouses. You stand on the tips of your toes, breath against his ear. “Now.” And the android does not hesitate to barrel straight forward. Right when the waiter tosses the bags into the dumpster, he turns at the sound of footsteps and his greeting is immediately muffled by Namjoon’s palm. The male android turns the human target around, kicking the back of his knee until the man’s kneeling and one of Namjoon’s arms wrap around the man’s shoulders, holding him still. Namjoon takes the sharp blade out from his pocket. He places the edge below Junseo’s left ear with the handle alongside his chin, prepared to be pulled forward and across with pressure applied towards the center of the neck during the draw. The handle will rotate a little towards the opposite side during the draw so the neck muscles wouldn’t interfere with the cut. But before Namjoon completes his task, he pauses beforehand. For a mere moment as Min Junseo squirms in his tight grasp. Junseo’s shrieks and screams are muted, arms restricted by the android’s hold. The man’s eyes are bulging from their sockets, fear and terror making him squeal like a pig, muscles trembling unwillingly. And then Namjoon slits the man’s throat in one fluid motion. It shears unbelievably easily and in the database of the android’s information, he could compare it to running scissors over wrapping paper or sticking a knife into soft butter. The skin and tissue of Junseo split and the external carotid artery is severed. Namjoon registers that it feels wet and warm, his hands dampened in a downpour of blood. Junseo relaxes in his hold and Namjoon lets go, stepping back to watch the results of his actions. Junseo puts his hands up, scratching his skin until his nails are clawing where the clean slit sits at his neck. He presses his palms against the wound but blood squirts past his fingertips. It sprays, a viscous fluid in a shade of crimson that almost looks akin to black in the darkness of the alleyway. The blood sputters and pours to the ground while Junseo struggles to get to his feet. He barely manages to turn around. He makes disgruntled, inhumane noises as his eyes lay onto Namjoon’s blank ones as if he was trying to say something. But it isn’t audible when the man is gagging and gasping, choking on his own blood that’s accumulated into his mouth. Finally Junseo loses consciousness and collapses backwards onto the ground. The blood oozes out around him in a pool, the sticky liquid bleeding to the gravel and rocks, turning it red. It drips off of Namjoon’s hands too, slowly drying and tinting his skin in a bright scarlet. “You can leave the knife there,” you say to him, standing beside and looking at the disposed body. “There’s no need to take it with us.” “I understand.” The two of you leave the corpse in the alley and disappear as quickly as you came. // The old television plays in the corner of the living room. The static illuminates the dark space and casts its light onto your faces. It appears old and vintage — Namjoon is unable to identify what exact model it is. Though he notes that it is also a contrast to the clean and sterile environment you have created in your home, but he does not dwell on unnecessary findings. It’s the news channel that you have on, two male anchors facing forward with their hands clasped. There are small headlines running at the bottom, the time and temperature of the outside in the corner. Then suddenly there’s a flash and some graphics on the screen. “Breaking news. One hour ago, a thirty year old man by the name of Min Junseo, was found brutally murdered in the back alley of the local bar he worked at. According to police, the perpetrators may still be around the area and has urged everyone to remain inside.” “Sources tell us that there are speculations that this homicide may have connections to the Ghost Serial Killer who has run rampant in the past five years, leaving a string of murders without DNA evidence or fingerprints of any kind. However police will not confirm if this is indeed the act of the Ghost Serial Killer and have no suspects at the moment.” The other man nods at his fellow anchor. “They have urged everyone to take caution and to stay inside for the night.” Namjoon turns to you with an impassive expression. “Have they misjudged the perpetrator?” “Yes. They’re confused.” You shift to the android with the corner of your mouth quirked. “It’s not cause for concern. If anything, it’s better for us. We can continue like this.” The android nods. Indeed, it works to both your advantages if the police link the homicide to an unrelated serial killer. But there are still questions he desires clarification on to continue in the most efficient manner. “May I inquire as to why we did not dispose of the body?” You shake your head. “The family members must know that they’ve received justice. If they think he’s gone missing then we have not fulfilled our purpose.” “I understand.” Namjoon receives the information and turns to you completely. “Who is the next target?” The corners of your mouth pull into a bigger smile at his keenness. “They are not ready yet, but they will be in one week.” “Then is there any task you would like me to complete in the meanwhile?” You seem to contemplate for a second, hands behind your back, head tilted for a second. Then you shake your head once more. “No. You may have free-range and do as you wish.” // Namjoon is an adaptable and versatile mechanism, but he finds it difficult to preoccupy himself during his free time. It is not necessary for him to eat or sleep — all the maintenance required of him is to charge his battery every once in a while for approximately two hours. However in his spare time, it is challenging finding tasks to complete that is productive and helpful to you. The android leaves you in the working room where you retire for long periods, recognizing that you wish to be left undisturbed. So he decides to stare at the white wall for a few hours, sitting on the edge of his mattress, before he begins to wander the expanse of your home to collect information. You live in an apartment at the side of the metropolis, a secluded location at the end of the hall on the top floor that is without neighbours. It suits your behaviour as you are reclusive. The fridge is predominantly empty save for some water and spoiled cabbage. Your kitchen is white, clean, and seemingly undisturbed. The table has also collected a thin layer of dust, chairs unmoved with how the floor seems to dent where the legs have stood for a long time. Your bathroom is also sanitary and spotless, toothpaste full and toothbrush untouched. The only place that looks occupied is the couch in front of the vintage television where the afghan is not perfectly folded after use. After his inspection, Namjoon reads the dictionaries and encyclopedias, he sits down and downloads more scripts and relevant information into his himself that may be of assistance to you. It is six days into his week-long time of having free-range that Namjoon stands at the window to observe the humans below and notices a spider on the windowsill. A brown recluse spider. Lifespan one to two years. They are arachnids and rank seventh in total species diversity among all orders of organisms. They are carnivores, scientific name araneae. Namjoon’s arm extends and the eight-legged creature slowly moves from his finger into his palm. His fingers curl into a fist, but Namjoon never tightens it. No. He opens his hand again and then cups it with the other. The android views the small creature in fascination, looking closely where he can see the spider’s tiny hairs and little eyes. He holds the spider and lets it dance around his skin, crawling over his arm. The corner of the android’s lips quirk before he moves to the window again. Namjoon opens it and releases the spider outside, mentally bidding it farewell. At the same time, his senses register the noises coming from the hall and turns in time to see you emerge. You greet him and at once, he recognizes your low energy levels. “Good afternoon, Y/N. Have you slept recently?” “No, I haven’t.” You give him a small smile that indicates a friendly demeanour and that his question did not violate any social norms. “Then you should. Sleep deprivation negatively affects brain function and a variety of other parts, such as the immune system.” “You’re right.” You nod at the android in appreciation. “Thank you for the reminder. I almost didn’t notice since I’ve been so busy.” “I can prepare food for you if you would like. I know a number of recipes.” “That won’t be necessary. I can take care of myself. You don’t need to worry about me.” You hand over the manila file in your grasps, moving from the futile subject of your well-being. “I finally have the second target prepared. Her name is Jeon Yemin.” Namjoon receives the papers and opens it up. At the top of the pile, he finds a school picture of a girl with black long hair and doe eyes. “Do you have a date planned for her elimination?” “Saturday. Is that enough time for you?” “Yes.” // It is the day before the planned death that you have taken Namjoon out to scout the target. It’s not unusual given that the first target, Min Junseo, was observed by him for several hours. But it is unusual that Namjoon is in public with you, not in the darkness of an alley but somewhere where others could potentially scrutinize him. Namjoon isn’t used to it, so he treads carefully. Considering that this second target did not have a workplace or a consistent pattern of behaviour, it was vital to watch and plan accordingly. “She’s going on a school trip tomorrow,” you inform him through a quiet murmur that his sharp sensors pick up on. “Her parents will be unaware of her activity for a handful of hours.” “I see.” Jeon Yemin is the second target. She is sixteen years old, a current student attending Yeonmi High School. One hundred sixty two centimeters tall and fifty four kilograms heavy, blood type A positive. She isn’t an honour roll student, but somehow obtained a scholarship with B average grades. She is a mediocre volleyball player and often travels abroad for weeks at a time on family vacations by the looks of her social media. Her most recent destination was Osaka, Japan during Winter break. By her banking information, she is to inherit a trust fund when she is of age. Namjoon muses she will be an easy kill as he watches her enter a clothing store in the mall. She is with two other girls, presumably friends but by the way their eyes crinkle when they smile, Namjoon observes that they are forcing positive reactions to whatever she is saying. The girl must not be well liked by her peers — therefore she will not be missed. “Nam—...Namjoon?” There is a disruption to his left and his head whirls over, attention captured by the call of his name. It is a stranger that is slowly approaching him, a seventy year old man with poor posture that staggers forward with a cane in hand. Bright eyes, high cheekbones, and a sharp nose, but his skin is wrinkled and round spectacles that are smudged sit on his face awkwardly. Namjoon searches his database within a millisecond but is unable to identify the man. And as the senior comes closer, his frown only deepens and his eyes narrow. Immediately, you place a hand on Namjoon’s arm and usher him away. The android does not hesitate to follow where you are bringing him, in the opposite direction of the senior citizen who croaks out to no avail until the two of you are gone and a nurse brings him back to the group. “Do you know who that was?” Namjoon inquires you. “I am unsure.” “He knew of my name.” “It doesn’t matter,” you scold and stop. Namjoon is high on alert, recognizing your irritation and annoyance. He realizes he must prevent you from experiencing those emotions. “You must not lose sight of the goal. You have one purpose and only one purpose.” Namjoon nods at once. “I understand.” // Namjoon and you have been seated in the car since before dawn, sitting calmly in your seats while watching the front door of Jeon Yemin’s house. He had insisted that you slept while he kept watch, but you dismissed his advice and sat in silence with him for hours. Timing was of the essence after all and he’s gained enough sense of this target to calculate her movements. Jeon Yemin is a privileged girl with an abundance of wealth but a desire to be accepted in a social circle of friends. She will reject being driven to her school trip in her parent’s expensive car, but instead opt to walk to the bus stop to meet with classmates there and arrive at school. The ten minute walk to the stop is where the both of you will grab your opportunity. The way in which you confirm this plan only assures the android this is the best course of action. “There she is.” You sit straighter, turning to Namjoon as the student is seen shutting the door behind her with her backpack slung over one shoulder before strolling down the safe neighbourhood street. “Earlier than her normal routine. It was good we were keeping watch.” “Yes.” Namjoon observes the temperature on the dashboard and finds the outside to be low enough. “Should I begin?” “Wait two minutes.” Namjoon begins counting. The car that you were in was registered to a man from across the country, an old farmer that has no relation to the soon-to-be victim. The paperwork simply needed to be filled and filed, easy to use for the purpose of this short trip. There was no flaw in your planning whatsoever and Namjoon finds you competent for that — but he already knew you were competent the moment he opened his eyes. You created him after all. Namjoon fires up the engine and begins to drive below the speed limit. At the same time, you roll down the window and he stops right where the high schooler is walking. Jeon Yemin turns her head at the sound and halts as well. “Excuse me,” you call out and motion her over. Yemin follows to stand right at your window. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you know where Burtons Place is? We’re looking for 346 Burtons Place.” “Oh.” The high schooler smiles, happy to prove herself useful. She points down the street. “It’s that way and then you take a left at Earlstone Crescent and then at the second road down, you take a right and it should be there.” “Pardon me? A right at Earstone Crescent and then a right after the first?” You attempt to mimic her gestures and Namjoon observes, musing that you are quite good at deception. He smiles to appear friendly. “Oh, no, it’s called Earlstone and it’s the second road down. Do you need me to show you?” Yemin smiles, her hamartia of wanting to be liked trickling down to the smallest of her acts. “I’m actually walking to the bus stop at Burtons Place.” “That would be very helpful, thank you.” Yemin gets into the backseat of the car. The temperature outside was cold enough that the girl visibly eases in the toastiness of the vehicle — it is clear she has been pampered in her life as she unconsciously desires to be inside of a car and away from the chilly wind. Perhaps your planning has also aided her subconscious into getting the vehicle. By picking a day that her mood would be undoubtedly good and she’s unguarded, dressing both you and him in her favourite brand, choosing an expensive car to drive in, and mimicking her body language, you had made the decision for her before she had the conscious choice of it. “We’re newlyweds and visiting his mom for the first time,” you graze Namjoon’s arm affectionately while turning around to regard her with a smile. “So we’re a bit lost and the GPS can never get it right. I’m sorry for being such a bother.” Your lies only put her at further ease. A friendly, young couple like you and Namjoon with polished appearances, attractive faces and apparent wealth would never seek to harm her. “Oh, no, it’s fine.” Yemin bats her hand, obviously glad to be the person who knows most in this vehicle. “I don’t mind at all. Congratulations on the marriage, by the way.” Namjoon glances in the rear-view, smiles until dimples press into his cheeks and he begins driving down the road. The radio plays some chirpy pop music, the car doors lock and the girl leans forward unsuspectingly. “Take a left here.” He turns left and continues to drive. You face forward, leaning back. “Okay, you can take a right here—o-oh. You missed it.” “We can turn around,” you mutter halfheartedly. But Namjoon continues to drive. The girl becomes quieter, her body language timid and fearful. She waits for the U-turn, for the car to turn around and go back to where you said it was supposed to go. But it never comes and her voices of protest that this is the wrong way go unheard. Soon, the avenues and streets become unfamiliar. “W-Where are you taking me?” She gets no answers as the car merges to an empty highway. Yemin frantically pulls out her cell phone from her pocket with trembling hands. She sobs out as it falls on the ground, but quickly snatches it up again. She begins to type a text to her friend, but it never sends. She cries in frustration and tries calling her dad, but it doesn’t go through. “Your sim card has been deactivated,” Namjoon pipes up for the first time since the plan initiated. The girl is visibly shaken and her phone falls into her lap. “You won’t get wifi out here either, so you won’t get data connection at all.” “You can try calling the police,” you snicker and turn around to pout at her as if you were sympathizing. “But you won’t have any reception out here and even if you did somehow manage to, it's nearly impossible for emergency services to locate a person without active service.” Yemin begins to sob. She whirls her head around and grasps onto the doors, but they’re locked. She manually unlocks it, but it’s still unable to be opened when the child lock is engaged. The girl hits her fists against the windows to no avail and then begins crying harder. Namjoon drives for ten full minutes, out in the middle of nowhere with just green prairies and rolling hills without a person in sight. But his hands on the wheel begin to tighten when she starts begging for her life. “My parents will give you whatever you want. I...I have nothing!” There is something in the back of the android’s mind that he attempts to process but is unable to. “Pl—Please don’t hurt me! Please!” But he feels as if he has experienced this before. “Please!” “Don’t do this,” Yemin weeps and Namjoon gets a flash, recalling how his hands tighten on the wheel before, how you were seated beside him, how another woman was in the backseat and cried— “Why are you doing this?” “Just call my dad!” — “I have a family!” “I’ll do whatever you want!” — “What is it that you want from me?” But it is absurd. Déjà vu is rejected by mainstream scientific approaches. The voice that he vaguely hears in his mind must be a projection, perhaps a malfunction or his assumptions for how humans in this situation would respond is flawed in stressful circumstances. Namjoon brushes it away. The car is parked thirteen kilometers from her home, parked behind trees and the girl is dragged out from the backseat into a field. She struggles against Namjoon’s hold, but to no avail. “Please! I have a f-family! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!” She is crying hysterically, screaming at the top of her lungs for no one to hear. Her legs tremble until her entire body is quivering like a leaf, three seconds from pissing herself with how terrified she is. Namjoon takes out the knife and places the edge below Yemin’s left ear, handle alongside her chin. “N-No...Pu-pulease,” she cries past gritted teeth, snot dripping all over herself. The girl immediately hitches her breath and seems to recoil, suddenly made quiet and merely whimpers and sniffles tearing out of her throat. Namjoon pauses. He does not move the handle of the knife. “Do it,” you command behind him with crossed arms. “Namjoon.” The android hesitates. He’s been through this before. He doesn’t know if it was a simulation, if it’s a defect in his system, but he is certain he has been through this before. You had once yelled at him— “Do it!” “Namjoon!” You had once stood in front of him with tears streaming down your face on some dark night in an empty field and you yelled his name much like this— “Namjoon! Please! Just do it!” “Do it!” The blade is pulled forward and across with pressure applied towards the center of the neck during the draw. The handle rotates a little towards the opposite side, neck sliced easily as the girl shrieks in antagonizing agony. It is done without much thought, as Namjoon’s mind is still processing. This had happened before — Namjoon is sure of it. He had heard the same scream, heard your same urgings, seen your disappointment at his hesitation. There has never been anything more that Namjoon has been certain of. Yemin’s body slumps in his grasps as her blood begins to squirt from her neck. He lets go of her and she falls face forward into the dirt, fingertips twitching as her consciousness slowly dwindles away. Namjoon stares at his hands, how his fingers and palms are wet in the girl’s blood — vicious and scarlet, the scent of metal and rather warm. His skin becomes stained. You approach in two strides next to his side and sigh at her collapsed body. “She deserved it,” you tell him, voice with a slight sharpness to it. He turns to you. “What for?” “You don’t need to know.” You step over Yemin’s body and return to the car. Namjoon follows suit after a moment and drives you back, disposing of the vehicle according to your instructions. // Namjoon is programmed to find answers to the problems he encounters, to find solutions to issues and address them as necessary in order to complete his tasks in the most efficient manner. His predominant duty is to kill, but he still is plagued by what he experienced during the elimination of the second target — the déjà vu he sensed and the motivation behind your commands. Naturally, he seeks to solve these predicaments but when he looks into Min Junseo and Jeon Yemin, he finds no connection. They are unrelated, people with no connection to one another, with no prior criminal history, no fact that stands out to him. Namjoon does not understand the information placed in front of him, but what he does discover is that other members of the Min and Jeon family have been previously killed by the Ghost Serial Killer. It’s always through a slit of the throat. With the weapons discarded on the scene of the crime. But always without fingerprints, footprints, or DNA evidence of any kind. There is never security footage of where the victim had gone. Never signs of struggle. “What are you doing?” Namjoon turns from the console, finding you at the doorway. The large screens illuminate the profile of your faces in the darkness of the room. This was the place he was brought to life, where he was programmed and built. The white room where he woke up in is next to you through a door, a window looking into it placed beside the computers. This is where you work and where he will find the answers he is seeking. “I am gathering information to fill in what I fail to comprehend.” Your brows furrow. “All that is necessary is that you obey my actions.” At once Namjoon recognizes that you’re becoming emotionally distraught, so he stands on his feet and nods. “I understand.” Your features show relief and you melt into a smile. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.” As the android approaches, your arm lifts and you cup his cheek tenderly. “I know how you feel. You just need to trust me. Through time, you’ll adjust to these changes and it only gets easier.” “I always have your best interest at heart, Namjoon.” Trust is not a concept that Namjoon can fully comprehend. It is insignificant. He does not need to trust you when you are his creator. Whatever you say, he must obey. There is no choice. His logic inherently tells him this. Yet his ability of self-awareness brings forth curiosity, doubt and an intense desire to know. // The cycle seems to repeat — eliminating a target, then having free-range to do as he pleases for a week before receiving information on the next target, and then the elimination of that one. This time during his free period, Namjoon is able to find productive tasks that could help you. The android waters the two plants that you have in the kitchen area, a fern and a lemon lime dracaena. He obtains information on the two species of wildlife and is able to tend to it until the leaves look bright green and are no longer drooping. Afterwards, he decides to take the elevator down to get the mail for you. “Excuse me!” There’s a yell right as the metal doors are about to close. Namjoon’s fast reflexes kick in and instantaneously, he presses the button and the doors open again. “Thank you.�� The lady is huffing and puffing, and Namjoon stares at her. He realizes he’s never spoken to anyone that wasn’t you before. “You’re welcome.” The android is unable to tear his eyes away from the stranger — there is something very fascinating about humans. The psychology of them, how fragile they are. Humans are intelligent, yet fickle and emotional the next second. But what makes Namjoon fixated on this stranger is the realization that this person could potentially be his next target. It could be anyone. The person down the hall, the mailman who delivered the mail, the lady that stepped into the elevator with him coincidentally. All you do is say the word and Namjoon is moving to slit their throats. He has asked no questions, has heard zero explanations — and that makes him conflicted. It occurs to Namjoon that he’s making the stranger uncomfortable with his ogling, that the female continuously glances at him from the corner of her eye, and he turns away. “I apologize.” Once the elevator opens its doors to the lobby, the stranger quickly steps out and Namjoon discovers he has failed to calm her. He notes that prolonged staring is suspicious behaviour. The android opens the mailbox, collects the several letters that you have, most of them related to billing, and he turns away. But before he returns to the elevators, a man enters with a small dog following him on a leash. It’s a brown Pomeranian. A Spitz type of breed. Named for the Pomerania region in north-west Poland and north-east Germany in Central Europe. It’s average life expectancy is twelve to sixteen years, average height of six to seven inches, weight average is three to seven pounds. But Namjoon knows simple information is irrelevant in contrast to experience. He hesitates and then chooses to approach. “May I pet the dog?” the android asks the owner. The man smiles. “Yes, you can. He doesn’t bite.” “Hello.” Namjoon lowers himself, petting the cute dog awkwardly on the head before he realizes that it finds it more pleasant to be scratched behind the ear. It even leans into Namjoon’s touch, tail wagging incessantly and tongue panting out of its mouth. Dogs are rather docile and amusing, Namjoon realizes. It’s something he would never learn from an encyclopedia or dictionary. The corner of his mouth quirks. Soon enough, Namjoon returns upstairs and at the same time, you emerge from the work room. “Did you go somewhere?” you ask in clear concern as he removes his outerwear that he knows is appropriate to put on when leaving the apartment, but perhaps he will not wear it when he is merely going downstairs to the lobby. “I went to get the mail.” Namjoon places said envelopes on the table in front of the sofa where you will be able to look at them. “I see.” You seem to find that an acceptable answer and the android is glad he has not upset you by leaving without permission. “I was about to locate you. I have the third target prepared.” You hand the manila file folder to him and he receives it with a nod, but stares at it when it is placed in his hand. Namjoon is unsure if he wants to open it and view the next person. “When have you planned the execution?” “Tonight,” you inform him. “It isn’t necessary to observe this target. She is not on the move like Jeon Yemin. There is no need to waste time.” “I...understand.” Namjoon watches as you return to the hall, but he speaks before you retire to your room. It may be inappropriate, but he finds the repercussions to the question will not outweigh his curiosity. “Y/N. Have you ever thought about getting a dog?” “A dog?” You turn around with your brows furrowed. “A Pomeranian. Or perhaps a Samoyed. Studies show that having a canine companion is linked to lower blood pressure, reduced cholesterol, and decreased triglyceride levels.” “No…” you sigh out gently and shake your head. “I’ve never considered it. A dog would inhibit us from completing our purpose efficiently, Namjoon.” Namjoon watches you retreat and he muses that you are sad — an emotion he does not identify that you are experiencing but rather a conclusion he had drawn on his own. // Park Sooyeon is the third target. A twenty eight year old female, graduate of SCP University with a general commerce degree, currently on maternity leave from her occupation in a marketing firm. She is one hundred seventy centimeters tall and sixty kilograms heavy with a blood type of A negative. According to records, Sooyeon’s marriage license was registered two years ago. She is currently wedded to a man named Kim Byeongho who is an engineer at CGV Engineering Corporation and who is currently abroad on a business trip. And based on the most recent hospital records, Sooyeon is thirty four weeks pregnant with a boy who is expected to arrive in a month’s time. Namjoon is also aware that the mortgage of the suburban house he is in will take another two years to pay off. “She is sleeping,” you inform. “You can do it now.” The two of you are standing in the darkness of the hallway, outside Park Sooyeon’s door. It was easy to creep into the house without making a single noise and the bedroom door is cracked enough for Namjoon to press one eye through and observe. He can see the lump in the mattress, the steady rise and fall of the blankets to show breathing. It will be straightforward and simple — the door will open with one push of his fingertips and he will approach soundlessly and press the knife against the woman’s throat, right below her ear with the handle alongside her chin. He will pull the blade forward and across, and she will bleed out before the pain is drawn out. Before she can differentiate reality to a terrifying fever dream. But as Namjoon’s boots step right up to the door, a breath away from giving it a push, he halts. His brows furrow. He’s done this before — push a dark bedroom door open, narrow his eyes into the moonlight casting its shine onto the covers, lodge a blade into someone’s juncture as they squirmed and choked on their blood. “Namjoon, we can leave now. Namjoon.” — it’s your soft voice vaguely sounding in his ear, a gentle tug of his sleeve. It hurts his mind to pinpoint the details, but he knows it’s there, barely in reach. He can feel it. The way it aches. The way your features look in the low lights. “Namjoon.” “What did you make me do?” “Namjoon.” The soft call of his name in present day causes his consciousness to return to the situation at hand. He turns and by the streetlamp from outside casting its luminesce through the windows, he can identify the furrow of your brows and the displeasured way your lips are lopsided. “What are you waiting for?” The android can feel it. Pain — it lodges in his throat and brings him discomfort. Sadness — the urge to fall over and curl his long limbs up into fetal position. Disappointment — knowing that he is being used as your weapon, that he gives you the ability to kill others; that without him, you would never have the capability to annihilate. Like none other, these crippling emotions halt him from movement. They inhibit from completing the task you have designated. They are his awakening and his suppression. Namjoon turns fully around. He stares at you in silence. “I can’t do this.” “What?” “I’m sorry, Y/N.” But more than his admission of being unable to complete his function and purpose, Namjoon recognizes the shock that comes across your visage when he makes his apology. You are stunned, taken aback, even stumbling away from him. “You’re not supposed to apologize.” To apologize is to recognize wrongdoing — to feel guilt. You shake your head. “I thought I fixed you!” At your loud volume, the woman inside her bed stirs. She sits up sleepily at the sound of voices and rubs her eyes. “Hello?” she calls out. “Is anyone there?” But by then, you’ve already fled. // You are unhappy with him — Namjoon is aware. You are emotionally distressed, unsatisfied, frustrated. He is not sure if it is due to his behaviour, if it is because the plan had failed, or if it is both. But you do not utter a single word to him on the way back home, not one sound made as if you were in deep contemplation. Namjoon is merely dismissed when the both of you arrive back to the sterile, desolate apartment. He nods and states the usual ‘I understand’ before he watches you withdraw to your room, perhaps to continue thinking. He’s not sure what you are pondering, his punishment or adjustments to be made for him, but he grasps the opportunity as it has come to him. He quietly goes to the work room where the console and computer systems sit and returns to the information he has found. Min Junseo. Jeon Yemin. Park Sooyeon. And Y/N. There aren’t any connections between the people, nothing that links you to them. But when he searches for your name, he is blocked from access. There is a password required, an encryption set up that prevents him from breaching. Namjoon enters the database and the only facts he finds are irrelevant. That you have two PhDs in computer science and electronic engineering, that you have worked at AI corporations before branching off to be independent, that you are a renowned robotics engineer. But it is nothing he had not already known. The android is at a dead end, unable to draw any conclusions or divulge information. But before he relents, he discovers a file sitting oddly inside another untitled file in the system. It requires a password again, but unlike the last, Namjoon is easily able to bypass it. It apparent that you were rushed in the creation of these files — forgetting to set up a complex barrier, neglecting to place them in a relevant area, overlooking that he may have access to the system. Or perhaps it was done purposely so you could easily access it… Namjoon is unsure. But what he finds causes more curiosity. Inside the file are backups with his name labeled on it. He should not question it — should not doubt his creator’s wishes — should not fight against the function that was given to him. His sole purpose is killing. But Namjoon ignores his instinctive urges and boots the backups back into himself. In the darkness of the room, with the luminescent static of the monitors, Namjoon remembers again.

Namjoon opens his eyes. The first thing he sees is you. Your expression is bright, lips tugged into a big smile, eyes warmer than what he knows. And you greet him, barely able to contain your excitement. “Hello! What is your name?” “Kim Namjoon,” he answers after thinking twice. And you scream. It startles him, making the android jolt in his glass capsule. But he quickly realizes your shriek isn’t of terror or anger, it’s of delight. You take deep breaths, chest heaving up and down as you try to remember the next questions you’re supposed to ask. “Do you know why you’ve been created?” It takes him a moment to locate the information of his purpose. “I….was created as one of the beginning tests of potential future android services.” “False,” you declare with a massive grin that swells your cheeks, arms behind your back as you rock from side to side, unable to keep still. The android becomes alarmed that he was incorrect and searches for the answer, but you quickly tell him, “You were made to be a companion!” The android hears chuckling, someone entering the white and sterile room he’s been activated in. Namjoon turns his head and he finds a man with blonde hair, strong eyes, and dimples in his cheeks. He is tall and broad shouldered, well-built and carries himself intelligently. His smile is tender as he gazes upon you and his dimples crease deeper, thick-framed glasses sliding down the slope of his nose before he pushes it up again. It’s him. Human Namjoon. “What are you telling him?” “It worked!” You twirl and jump into your husband’s arms, making the man giggle. The android looks on, observing the pleasant interaction between his two creators. Android Namjoon is aware of the origins of his own birth. He is the first of his kind, a test trial of sorts. But he is advanced for what he is, able to understand thoughts, feelings, and expectations for how people want to be treated and can adjust his behavior accordingly. He has self-awareness and is able to make comprehensive decisions, respond eloquently and interact with the world around him as any other human can. And he is the result of the fruits of your labour. You are a computer scientist and electronic engineer while your husband, Namjoon, whom you’ve been wedded to for a decade, is a mechanical and software engineer. Together, you’ve created your own humanoid robotic clones. “Robot Namjoon! Meet Robot Y/N!” Your arms are waving, hand making wild gestures as you’re making the introduction. Namjoon stares. It’s identical and almost difficult for the android to identify which of you is the human and a machine programmed by a computer. But he is quickly able to analyze when he finds the Android Y/N wears an impassive expression, lips tight in a line, eyes darkened — it contrasts the human Y/N that is quite animated and lively. “They’re androids, not robots,” Namjoon hears his human-self chide his wife, but you quickly shush him in favour of watching the exchange. “It is pleasant to make your acquaintance.” Your arm extends and the corners of your lip stiffly pulls. Namjoon shakes it and finds your skin-like texture clammy and cold. “It is also pleasant to be of your acquaintance,” he responds, attempting to increase the intonation of his tone so he doesn’t sound monotone and unnatural, but he fails. “Question.” Your head suddenly turns to your two creators. “Is it possible for androids to be married?” It occurs to android Namjoon that if he and you are clones of your human creators, then your relationship should be replicated as such for most accuracy. Therefore, he comes up with the same question as you do. The two human versions of you exchange expressions before Namjoon shrugs. “We’re not sure of your emotional capabilities yet, but sure why not.” Android Namjoon nods. He notes that he isn’t your mere acquaintance — he is your husband. It isn’t difficult for android Namjoon to adjust to that fact or to adapt to the life that his creators have given him in this home. The four of you find compatibility with one another, perhaps because you and him are your clones and thus automatically harmonious. Android Namjoon begins to learn human etiquette, every day adding to his database of information. He learns how to have dinner, what it is like to sit down at the same time each evening and engage in conversation, sometimes on small talk like the weather and other times on the advancing technology from rescue drones and A.I. development occurring internationally. Android Namjoon also learns what data and facts cannot teach him alone. He begins to understand what cohabitation entails and finds the mundane routine rather enjoyable. “Namjoon!” There’s a call of his name and he steps out of the hall, finding you at the front doorway. You wear a surprised expression. “Oh, I meant the other Namjoon, but you can help me too!” You smile, waving him over and he helps you bring in the groceries. Android Namjoon assists you in unloading the back of your car and putting the food away in their appropriate locations. “You should take it easy,” he says to you when you’re holding a heavy bag of cans. The android takes it away while you grin, watching him place it on the shelves. “You’re sounding more and more like Namjoon these days. Did he tell you to look after me?” “Yes,” he answers without lying. “Hormones of pregnancy cause connective tissue, ligaments and tendons to soften. Your center of gravity and balance has also changed. The current recommendation of the maximum load a pregnant woman in late pregnancy should lift is twenty to twenty five percent from what they were able to lift pre-pregnancy in order to lessen the risk of injury.” You scoff but a tender smile tugs on your features. “Have you been reading up on pregnancy facts, Namjoon? I’ll have you know exercise is promoted for pregnancies. They reduce backaches, constipation—” “Bloating and swelling,” the android finishes and continues, “It boosts mood and energy levels, helps the mother sleep better, promotes muscle tone, strength and endurance while preventing excess weight gain. Yes, I am aware of those studies as well.” You sigh wistfully, slightly pouting despite being a grown woman and rubbing your swollen belly as he finishes with putting away the groceries. “You’re not as fun to banter with.” “I apologize. I will work on improving my wit.” “No, it’s okay!” You burst out laughing. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re fine, you’re fine,” you reassure with another smile and it eases the android’s concern. “You just remind me of my husband, that’s all — obviously, since you look like him, but you’re not him.” “Would you like me to be?” “No,” you hum. “You’re our clones, but I don’t expect you to act like us. That wouldn’t be fun anyways. At the end of the day, you aren’t humans so I don’t have any expectations for you to act like one.” “But aren’t we supposed to replicate human behaviour?” android Namjoon questions, knowing full well he was given self-awareness to make his own decisions and that he is constantly learning how to adjust to societal expectations. “Don’t think about it too hard,” you chime with a grin. “I made you to act like you. You don’t need to be like a human or like an android, Namjoon. You can be who you want to be.” He nods. “I understand.” But in spite of his confident reply, android Namjoon is still uncertain by the meaning of your words. Perhaps both you and Namjoon merely have no expectations for him and the android version of you — and somehow that idea causes him to feel relief. As long as he proves himself useful to the household, there are no duties he must complete or behaviours he must display. He can be natural or as natural as being mechanical allows him to be. “Today, we are going to go outside together for the first time,” the human version of him announces happily one day with a grin. “Think of it as a test run!” “Do you have anything you anticipate of us?” the android version of you asks, looking towards Namjoon. The man contemplates for a moment and then shakes his head. “Not particularly. It’s mostly for you guys. We’ve kept you locked up for so long, so enjoy yourselves.” “I understand.” In the meanwhile, you secure the jacket around your neck, making sure you and the twenty eight week fetus inside of you is kept warm. The android version of you stands beside android Namjoon, both in your outerwear and prepared to step foot outside. “Ready?” “Yes,” the pair of you answer at the same time. It is bright outside, the sunlight blinding to his sensors. There are also many foreign scents, loud noises all around him that work to disorient him, strangers that stare at the four of you — finding it strange that there are two pairs of identical twins walking while being unaware he and you are androids. The walk is difficult as he tries to register everything that is occurring — the colour of the sky and fences, the location of each home and lamppost, the identity of those who pass by, the sound of birds chirping and what kind of species they are, how the movement of his body should be to appear human-like, how he needs to blink every few seconds and move his chest to appear like he is breathing. “Nice day, isn’t it?” the human you says to your husband while holding your pregnant stomach. “It’s a bit chilly,” human Namjoon says in response with a smile. “But it’s the best we’re going to get during winter.” The two of you are completely unaware of the struggles of your android counterparts. Android Namjoon never knew that the outside world would be so difficult to process, but at the very least he’s glad that he has someone with him who is experiencing what he is for the first time. “I never knew the world was like this,” you tell him after a moment of silent reflection. “The world is very vast.” “Yes, it is,” he replies. “It is difficult to differentiate what is essential and what is irrelevant.” You make a noise of acknowledgment at the back of your throat. “We will learn as time goes by.” “There is much learning to be done.” “Indeed.” Suddenly, a small animal begins to barrel towards the both of you. It is small and yapping incessantly at a high pitch. Namjoon recognizes it as the smallest breed of dog, named after the Mexican state. It is a female Chihuahua, approximately two kilograms and twenty centimeters tall. It is apparent that the owner has lost control as the brown dog runs forward with a loose leash, bearing its teeth and barking deafeningly towards you. It runs and immediately your leg swings back, prepared to boot it forward towards the street. But the human version of you realizes what’s occurring and stops it a millisecond before it happens. “Wait! Y/N!” At the command, you stand still. And the human owner grabs her dog, appearing angered. “Were you about to kick my dog?! What’s wrong with you?!” “I’m sorry,” human Namjoon steps forward and blocks the three of you away. “They’re still learning.” “What?” “They’re, uh, we’re...we’re sorry. She’s scared of dogs,” Namjoon says, glancing at the android version of you behind his shoulder and then returns to the older lady. “Your dog shouldn’t be off its leash anyhow.” “I can do what I want!” she shrieks shrilly. “This is a free country! You’re lucky you didn’t hurt my dog or else I would sue you!” The woman struts away with her dog in her arms, chin high in the air. As soon as she’s gone, the human you breathes a sigh of relief and Namjoon shakes his head while exhaling tiredly. “It’s okay,” human you says to both your android counterparts. “These things happen, but it can be a good learning lesson. Dogs are usually small animals that many care deeply for. If we can, we don’t harm them.” “I don’t understand,” you say next to android Namjoon. “It was a threat. We must eliminate threats as soon as they appear to ensure our safety.” “That dog wasn’t a threat,” Human Namjoon says with a sympathetic smile. “It was just barking.” But your expression remains blank. “I don’t understand,” you repeat. “The probability of harm outweighs the life value of that animal. Would it not be preferable to eliminate it before it causes injury?” At the question, both of human you and human Namjoon exchange uneasy expressions. // Through the one-way glass, Namjoon looks into the white, sterile room that the both of you were activated in. He watches as the android version of you sits at the table with your hands folded together on top of the table and how human you sits across, holding a clipboard in hand. “May I ask what Y/N is being assessed for?” Android Namjoon asks human Namjoon who is standing beside him, also observing from the windows. The session is being recorded, voices able to be heard from outside the room too and your diagnostics displayed on the computer screen. The android does not know what you are being monitored for. Perhaps your reaction to the dog from last week was false. But it makes the android conflicted as human you had told him there was no such thing as false behaviour or actions. “We are just administering a test,” human Namjoon says with a smile and the android is unable to detect any deception. “You don’t have to worry. We just need to take a look in case there’s a…” “Defect,” android Namjoon finishes. “Perhaps, but not necessarily.” The man contemplates for a moment on how to articulate his concerns. “The two of you have been given self-awareness to act and make your own decisions, but we just want to make sure those decisions will fulfill the common good or at least, never act to harm another.” “I understand.” He quiets to listen to your voices. You begin by explaining the trolley problem — it is an ethical dilemma that Namjoon is familiar with. The premise is explained and you’re given choices in different scenarios. When asked if you would pull a lever to save five people on the track, but kill another person on the other track, there is not a moment of hesitation— “Of course, it should be pulled.” Your android counterpart does not blink. “Five lives are more valuable than one.” “And if it were me on the track?” you ask, altering the question. There’s a slight pause, but then your android counterpart repeats, “Five lives are more valuable than one.” Your human-self nods and the android glances at the glass window, looking right at Namjoon despite being unable to see before returning back to you. “Is there a correct answer you are inquiring for? I can adjust my responses.” “No.” You shake your head, wearing a smile. “You can answer however you’d like, Y/N.” The question is altered again. This time to save the five people, one would need to push a large man on a footbridge over the tracks. His body would stop the trolley, causing his death, but saving the five people. Without a moment of contemplation, you answer— “I would push him.” Your human counterpart offers another scenario. “If I trusted you to keep a secret and told you I was having an affair on Namjoon, would you keep it a secret or tell him and have our marriage fall apart?” “You would never do such a thing,” your android self declares in confidence suddenly, making both you and Namjoon, standing outside, smile to yourselves. “But in this hypothetical, I would inform him immediately. You did something against your duty of marriage, therefore, you must face the consequences.” You nod and adjust the circumstances once more. “If you worked for us and found out about my affair through wiretapping, would you still tell Namjoon? Doing so would mean you would have to admit violating the law and threatening me would mean you would also have to reveal where you got this source of information.” “I would never do something against my own duty. However in this hypothetical, I would still inform Namjoon. My reasoning is the same as my last one.” Your human counterpart stares directly into your android-self, the former slowly smiling while the latter remains unblinking. Soon, android Namjoon is brought into the same room and presented the same questions, informed that there is no right or wrong answer and he is free to pick whatever choice he pleases. But it’s difficult to choose — he doesn’t know how you did it so quickly. Namjoon tells you that he would push the lever because, like you, he finds five lives more valuable than one. He would also push the man if necessary. However, he could never pull the lever if you were the one standing there. He could never push you if you were on the bridge. He also says that he would never expose your affair. He can’t. Not when that would risk your marriage. Not when you have a child on the way. Not when it is so clear the two of you are in love with each other. His statements surprise you and himself. Though by the end of it, you appear no more satisfied with him than you were with your android-self. There seems to be nothing done at the result of both your assessments. You nor Namjoon address it afterwards, merely citing that it was simply intriguing observations to be written down. But android Namjoon overhears something he should’ve never have— “It’s not that she completely lacks empathy,” you murmur in the quietness of your kitchen, nursing a cup of hot chocolate when it’s nearly midnight with your husband. “She just has less than Namjoon.” “Ethics is subjective,” his human-self says. “We can’t quantify it.” “Well, you think she would save me if I was going to die on a train track. We made them so they can make choices, Namjoon. Not so they can give us the most logical, straight-edged answer. We want them to be rational, not cut and dry, and...indifferent to emotions. The world doesn’t need more apathetic machinery that just completes one task after another.” “I know.” There’s an audible sigh that the android can hear from where he stands in the dark hallway. In the past year of being here, he has learnt that eavesdropping is quite a convenient way to obtain more information — not that he does it often. Most of the time, he simply doesn’t want to interfere in intimate moments. Moments when the baby is kicking or the pair of you are kissing each other, dancing or perhaps giggling silently about something that the android has no place in. “It’s not a big concern, I’m just….” “Yeah. But it’s nothing we can’t monitor and adjust, Y/N.” The conversation soon turns lighthearted, full of banter that the android is used to and he takes his leave. He is at ease that there is nothing that either of you are disappointed in. While Namjoon has never voiced it out, he has always felt a need to ensure the pair of you are happy. It’s less like a duty or trying to give back to his creators, but it’s because he wants to. He feels a sense of satisfaction to know that the both of you are content. You, on the other hand, are not at ease like Namjoon is. It is on a warm afternoon that you, the android, finds him in the study. “Good afternoon, Namjoon.” The corners of his mouth quirk when he sees you standing at the doorway. “Good afternoon, Y/N. It is pleasant weather outside.” “Indeed. I see you are alphabetically organizing the textbooks and encyclopedias.” “Yes. I think the other Namjoon spends a lot of time searching for the one he’s looking for, so I think this might be of help for him. Or at least he should waste less time and be able to spend it more efficiently.” “A very productive task,” you muse aloud and his smile only grows more. Android Namjoon has noticed that you only make irrelevant comments when you are emotionally nervous and he can recognize it with your stiff movements when you entered the room. “Are you in need of assistance?” “I am fine, thank you. Do you, perhaps, need assistance with anything?” “I have a question.” There is a pause and then you speak again. “Can you recall the ethics test we received two weeks ago?” “I do.” “They never informed us of the results and I am unaware of their conclusions. But I was wondering if you perhaps know if I have failed their expectations or not?” “You have not.” Namjoon is certain and glad he’s able to tell you this, to comfort you. “There is no need to be worried. You have not failed any of their expectations.” You nod, the tension of your facial muscles relaxing, but you still hesitate for a moment. “I am reading recently on emotional intelligence and how to be kind, but the behaviour required is very inconsistent. I do not understand, and I fear I will be abandoned for my inability to empathize. I do not wish to be deactivated or for my hard drive to be wiped.” Namjoon knows what you mean the instant it comes out of your mouth. Details on the afterlife or even the existence of one has long been debated and discussed by humans for millenniums — whether there is nothing, whether reincarnation exists, whether there is Heaven or Hell. But for androids, the answer is certain. There is absolutely nothing. No redemption, no punishment, no abyss. The two of you will be deactivated, lose consciousness, and cease to exist.. “They most likely won’t give up on us. Both Y/N and Namjoon have spent decades creating us. They’ve invested a lot of time and dedication. It isn’t in their best interest to wipe and deactivate you for such a minute detail. They will try their best to adjust you.” Namjoon is able to identify the clear comfort his words provide you, how your brows no longer furrow, shoulders relaxing and even your mouth quirks. “Most likely?” “Most likely.” Namjoon smiles and finds that for some reason, the satisfaction of you being content is greater to him than anything else that he’s experienced thus far in his lifetime. // Nurture and nature is an old age debate. It attempts to determine how much behaviour is affected by genetics or environment and experience. And it is something that Namjoon will think about for years to come. Both you and him were created with certain traits and attributes of your human counterpart. On a surface level, it could be possible for bystanders to regard the four of you as two sets of twins and by personality, it is clear that you are headstrong, methodical and diligent while Namjoon attempts to be helpful and is more soft-spoken. These things are striking similarities that he has taken notice of between his creators and you and him. But while you were given characteristics that you tend to lean towards, it is nurture that dictates the rest of your behaviour and creates your habits. “You will return in a three day’s time, correct?” The two of you are standing at the foyer, watching as the couple secure their coats around themselves and drag their luggage over. “Correct!” Human Namjoon grins at your android form. “Ten points! But don’t worry. We’ll be back soon. Business conferences usually don’t last that long. Just watch the house and make sure there are no burglars!” “Don’t tell them that!” Human you bats at your husband halfheartedly. “They might be watching the windows until we get back.” Namjoon chuckles and you turn to the androids. “Don’t listen to him, you two. He’s just being ridiculous. The house is well-secured, just enjoy your time at home and contact us if there are any issues.” “We understand.” “Don’t throw any parties, kids,” the lively man jests, “We’re gonna know through the nanny cam!” Android Namjoon pays no mind to the silly and energetic human who has become more cheerful the closer the birth of his son comes. You had told him that he was becoming more of a dad with the dad jokes he’s been increasingly telling as each day passes. “Take care of yourself,” Android Namjoon says to you. “You must be careful. You are due in three weeks.” “I will.” You smile, having been waddling for the past few days. “Don’t worry about us.” “Good luck,” your android counterpart murmurs next to him and your human-self nods. You give them both hugs, pressing a kiss to your foreheads that Namjoon knows is a sign of close affection. And soon, the both of you are carrying your luggage out to the car and backing out the driveway before disappearing from sight. Your android form, on the other hand, appears forlorn, still watching out the windows even after the vehicle is long gone. He wonders if you’re perhaps feeling...lonely. The house is indeed strangely quiet with half of what makes it a home missing. Namjoon wonders how it was that you and him, your human selves, lived together in such a great big house without ever letting the silence get to yourselves. “What do you plan to do?” he asks, breaking that silence. You turn to him. “I need to add fertilizer to the garden outside. It seems to be lacking nutrients.” He nods and it goes quiet for a moment. “Would you like to watch a documentary with me on aquatic animals in the Pacific Ocean?” “What for?” “Enjoyment.” There is silence again, but not saddened or lonely, rather one of contemplation. The android waits for you to make your decision and when you turn to him with a nod, he is ecstatic. Namjoon watches the documentary with you, absorbing all the facts that are given before he is helping you in the garden, watering the plants and learning from you how to differentiate each one. It is a well-spent day, not only because it was productive but because he spent it with you. When nighttime falls, Namjoon powers himself down and stations himself to charge his battery. But half-way through the night, his sensors flicker on. He becomes alert once more when he hears noises reaching high decibels from downstairs. Namjoon is wary knowing that there is no one else home except for you and him, and approaches with caution. What he finds is not an intruder, but you in the darkness. “What are you doing, Y/N?” he asks and receives no answers. The television is playing in the corner of the living room. The static illuminates the dark space and casts its light onto your faces. It’s the news channel that you have on, two male anchors facing forward with their hands clasped. There are small headlines running at the bottom, the time and temperature of the outside in the corner. Nurture and nature is an old age debate, attempting to determine how much behaviour is affected by genetics or environment and experience. And it is in this moment that both you and Namjoon change. “—hours ago, a group of highschoolers driving under the influence would claim the lives of a thirty two year old married couple in a fatal car accident. Kim Namjoon and Kim Y/N were said to be renowned engineers and praised in their contribution to the recent development of AI technology. Police say they were on their way home when teenagers who were leaving a Spring Break party lost control of their vehicle and crashed onto the oncoming car in the other lane.” “Kim Namjoon was found dead at the scene of the crime while his nine-month pregnant wife, Kim Y/N, has been hospitalized with severe injuries. It is not expected that she or her child will survive. Two of the five teenagers have been hospitalized for minor injuries while the rest have been arrested for—” Dead. Just like that. Namjoon muses how fragile humans are at the same time as being filled with an intense sadness that makes it difficult for him to process. So he remains silent with the realization that the both of you have become ghosts of people who were once alive — who should not exist on their own. He realizes that the two of you have been left behind. Left as androids in this world.

Namjoon remembers it all. He remembers hiding away with you, knowing that the pair of you would be taken away by strangers if you were found. And he remembers how angry you became, how you fed off resentment and succumbed to despair as each year passed. “Revenge?” he had questioned when you said it. “What do you mean by revenge?” “The driver received a four thousand fine and one year imprisonment. Two others received probation. That is not justice. Y/N and Namjoon’s lives were not valued at so little. We must fulfill our duty and bring them retribution.” Namjoon held you back. “Retributive justice is primitive and brings more social harm than good. It isn’t a suitable punishment and it isn’t our duty, Y/N. You will do no such thing. That is not what they would have wanted.” “Y/N didn’t want to die,” you told him, stare hardened and resolve set into stone. “I know she didn’t. I am her.” Namjoon recalls that you had hatched a plan — one that you contemplated over and found that murder was too simple. He knew you wanted them to suffer, for them to compensate for your grief through their own. And he knew that you wanted to kill their loved ones, to wait until they were wedded and had children of their own before you would eliminate them. All because of one mistake. All because they killed you and Namjoon. “You can’t kill them,” he said after finding your extensive plans, what you dedicated hours to at a time, figuring out what the best ways it was to kill someone, how to avoid getting caught. The details and diagrams of your notes scared him. “You can’t do that, Y/N.” “There’s no reason not to. Don’t get in my way.” Namjoon had realized that human Y/N and Namjoon didn’t fail to adjust your lack of empathy — now you felt too much. Too much sadness. Grief. And most of all, anger. The hatred seemed to consume you, outweighing all else until it became your fixation. Your function altered to seek reprisal. It became your purpose. “Will you help me or not?” “I can’t.” But that wouldn’t mean he would leave you alone. After all, the pair of you only had each other and he could never bear to abandon you. So Namjoon watched from afar as you spoke to a woman in a dark parking lot and entered her car, how you then reached over to kill her at an unsuspecting moment. He remembers when you walked away, bathing in the woman’s blood, unblinking and unbreathing. “Who was that?” “Kim Taehyung’s wife. He was in the backseat of the car during the accident and just got a misdemeanor for underaged drinking. He became an engineer and has children now. No one knows what he did, except for us.” “Are you going to kill Kim Taehyung next?” “No. That would be too easy. I will when I feel justice has been served.” The anniversary of your death and Namjoon’s came and went. Each spent with the android reminiscing and your android counterpart planning or waiting, waiting for the perpetrators to create more connections and relationships so that you could sever them. Thirty five years was spent that way, thirty five anniversaries spent wandering and trapped in your animosity. Namjoon did not appear to age a single day, not when he was an android and death was no natural concept to him, but inside he felt old. Tired. Worn. And one day, he decided to leave. “Don’t go,” you had begged him when he tried to break free of this prison you created for the pair of you. “If you don’t want me to leave, then you must stop this. This was not our purpose, Y/N.” And that was the first time Namjoon was reset. The first time you reset him against his own will, tricked and trapped him in the capsule, wiped his memory clean. “I’m sorry.” When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was you. Your expression was blank, lips tight in a line, eyes darkened. You greeted him, asked for his name and he answered. You asked him about his purpose and he didn’t know what to say until you fed him the idea that it was to serve justice. Namjoon killed for the first time, but he couldn’t do it for a second. So you reset him again. And the cycle repeated until he woke up again for the fourth time. For the fourth reset. In the darkness of the room, with the luminescent static of the monitors, Namjoon remembers again. He remembers his history and his true purpose, the days spent with the four of you in the cozy home, the forty years spent in self-suffering, how you and him ended up like this, and the people the both of you have killed for a fault that was so long ago. “What are you doing?” He turns at the sound of your voice, having stood at the windows and looked into the white room. The one he was reactivated in all four times, that was recreated from the original. But it’s not quite the same and he knows it now. You’ve tried replicating this entire place to be like the one that he and you were born in. The kitchen has the same kettle even though the pair of you don’t need to eat. The coat rack by the front door is the same one that human Namjoon and human Y/N placed their outerwear on. The living room still has the same television. But while things are a mirror image, you’ve failed at making this place a home. And the idea that everything is so empty despite your best efforts, that no matter how much you try, you can’t bring them back on your own or return to that time, it’s painful for him to witness. “I am reminiscing,” Namjoon answers wistfully. “What is there to reminisce about?” You’re standing at the doorway, the darkness covering your expression and casting shadows over the rest of your form. But from your tone, Namjoon still recognizes the indignation. After all, he failed his third kill. It seems that with each reset, it never changes the fact that Namjoon will never be the killing mechanism that you want him to be. “There’s plenty of things to reminisce over. There are a lot of good memories, don’t you think?” The corners of his mouth pulls and he opens the door to the room without hesitance, hand wrapped around the knob, entering. The fluorescent lights are blinding, washing the room in an even brighter white hue. You follow after him, perplexed, and the pair of you stand where it all began. Namjoon approaches the glass capsule at the back and his fingertips graze against the cold surface. “You know,” he pipes up. “The first thing I ever saw in my entire life was you. Your eyes.” “Of course. What else would you see?” He could’ve seen the empty room, the window, maybe a computer screen to introduce him to the world. But Namjoon’s glad that each and every time he awoke, you were the one in front of him. He can’t help wondering what it was like for you — if he was the one you saw first. The android isn’t sure, so he asks. “What did you see?” The question is softly spoken. Namjoon turns to you, watching the realization dawn upon your features. It takes one second, one second for you to find out that he knows you aren’t human, that you aren’t his creator. One second and you know he remembers and is aware of what you’ve done — to him and to other people. And Namjoon seizes the opportunity of your surprise. One push from him and you’re stumbling back into the capsule. The doors shut, sweeping upwards and vacuumed to the top. Namjoon watches the way your features twist into mortification, watches the way your fist clenches and you begin to bang onto the surface to no avail. The sound of your screaming and yelling is muffled. “I’m sorry.” “Deactivation initiating,” the capsule says as it illuminates and begins to whir. “Namjoon!” You shout at the fullest capacity when you hear those words, dread and fear taking hold in your eyes. Namjoon presses his hand to the glass, gazing at you — his companion for the past forty years, all he’s ever known and cared about. “Stop!” You never abandoned him. You never left him even as you were set on your ambition. But he can’t let this go on. He can’t let you hurt yourself or other people anymore. “I’m…..sorry.” “You don’t have to do this,” you plead and in the moment, you look so human that it would be easy to mistake you for one. The pain he feels makes it easy for him to mistake himself as one too. But you and him will never be human, as much as he desperately wishes for it to be so. “But I do.” He presses his forehead against the cold glass surface, as close as he can get to you, as close as he can physically be. “You’ll reset me again when you have the chance.” “I won’t!” Your words sputter, limbs twitch, like a broken machine. Your memories begin leaving. Your system begins to shut down. “Everything that I did…...everything I had to do was because no one else would.” “This isn’t justice, Y/N. We’re not even supposed to be here.” “No, no! You can’t abandon me!” you scream and pound against the glass. Tears rip down your cheeks, grief and betrayal overwhelming you. “Don’t do this, Namjoon. Please, don’t do this. You can’t get rid of me like this! Namjoon!” There’s nothing. Not for androids. No consciousness. No afterlife. Once your hard drive is erased, your existence will be erased. “I don’t want to die!” “I love you,” he murmurs. “Deactivation complete.” The capsule shuts off. You’re bathed back into darkness and Namjoon rips out the cords, right after your hard drive wipes. Just like that. Like a light switched flicked off, you’re gone. It was so simple, he realizes why you were so terrified. Namjoon destroys the rest, the engines and computers. He cuts the cables, strips the circuit boards, wrecks what his human self and what your human self had spent decades creating. And when it’s all done, Namjoon looks to you. You’re leaning against the wall, eyes open, but lifeless. A machine of wires.

[Epilogue] The senior staggers forward with a cane in hand. He has poor posture, his skin wrinkled and his round spectacles smudged. But his eyes are still bright, nose sharp and his cheekbones high. He is the ghost of a once dapper, young man. He stops a few meters away from Namjoon, breath caught in his throat, tears accumulating at his thin lashes. The android turns his head, away from the park of children playing to the seventy year old senior. He stumbles forward, unable to take his eyes away from him, until he manages to sit on the wooden park bench. “You look….just like him,” Jung Hoseok croaks, staring at what had been his old friend whom he hadn’t seen in the flesh for decades now — the friend that he never got to grow old with. “I can’t believe it. All those years ago, Namjoon and Y/N actually executed the work they had been planning….they….they did it.” “We were just the prototype. This was just the beginning. There was supposed to be a lot more.” “Can I…..” Hoseok lifts his trembling hand and the android nods, allowing the senior to place a hand on his shoulder. The seventy year old cries softly when he touches him, when he feels that he is tangible and not just his imagination springing his subconscious wishes upon him in a dream. “I saw you once before,” Namjoon says. “In their wedding photos.” Hoseok nods and withdraws. “Yes, I was there. It was a wonderful day, really. The weather was nice and they looked….so happy.” His eyes are far away, pinned at the horizon. “It feels so long ago.” “It was a long time ago.” “Yes. Sometimes I have forgotten that I’ve become so old.” They are silent, merely savouring each other’s company. Namjoon hadn’t truly spoken to another human for as long as he can remember, and Hoseok hadn’t seen his old friend in forty years. The man didn’t seem to mind that it wasn’t actually his best friend, but a replica that simply shared a number of traits. It appeared like Hoseok was content enough to see his friend one last time, no matter the person that was really inside. The pair of them watch the shimmering lake, listen to the leaves of the tree rustle in the Spring breeze and the giggling of the children on the playground ignorant to the reunion. “Can I ask something? Was it you who killed off all the family members of those highschoolers?” “It was.” Hoseok hums. “I wasn’t sure, but when I heard about the murders….when I heard their last names and realized they all shared the same names as those teenagers, I couldn’t help but think someone out there was doing it for that reason.” “I didn’t do it because I wanted to,” Namjoon says and Hoseok seems to understand. The android looks into his lap before lifting his head again. “I’m not sure how to make things right with the family members remaining. I don’t think they’ll ever be a right way. If I give myself up, I’m scared they’ll manipulate me or try to fix me or make more of my kind. I don’t want to be reset.” “I wrote letters to them,” Namjoon continues to explain after a beat, “if that means anything. I want to give them an explanation, so they know why this happened.” Hoseok stares at the profile of the android’s face. “You are a lot like him. The real Namjoon. You speak like him.” The android meets his gaze and the old man croaks, “Where is Y/N?” He turns as if he could catch you approaching with a smile, “I saw her before too...briefly, but she looked so much like her….” “I—” Namjoon pauses, lingering in the pain he knows he deserves. “—deactivated her.” The human seems to be disappointed, but never prods and or demands to know the reasons. This meeting in itself was fulfilling enough for him to be at peace. “What do you plan to do now?” “I’m going to deactivate myself.” The answer comes without hesitation. If Namjoon could be granted one last wish, it would be to go to where you are — the world of nothingness, of unconsciousness. He won’t abandon you like you think he has. “I’m not meant to be here anymore.” “Don’t blame yourself,” Hoseok says. “This all happened because the two of you blamed yourselves. The real Namjoon and Y/N would have wanted you to be free of that burden.” He thanks him. After all, it’s what he always wanted to hear. The both of them look out at the horizon in silence. It’s bright outside, the sunlight blinding to his sensors. There are many foreign scents, the smell of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass. There are also loud noises, children squealing and playing and the tides of the lake lightly hitting against the rocks. Namjoon registers everything that is occurring around him — the colour of the sky and trees, the location of each bench and lamppost, the sound of birds chirping and what kind of species they are. It’s regretful he was never around it more. It’s a beautiful world, a world you and him never belonged in.

#bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #namjoon angst #bts angst #bts scenario #namjoon scenario #I've always wanted to write a robot/android!AU #but I could never come up with an original idea #till I decided to collide it with a Serial Killer!AU that I've always wanted to write too #it's definitely an interesting concept

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dsoe-masteroftheheavenlyyard · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 2–Hunt for the Deadly Sins; Scene 4

master of the heavenly yard pages 28-38

They had no compass nor a watch, so Nemesis had no choice but to determine the direction they were heading from the movements of the moon.

It seemed they were going south.

“Hey, Allen,” Nemesis spoke up as they were walking.

“What is it?”

“Do you remember anything about a ‘Moon Goddess’?”

“…No. That title wasn’t anywhere in the ‘Blackbox’ archive either.”

So then that meant it wasn’t someone who existed in the Third Period.

“Moon Goddess”…I feel like that’s someone’s nickname. Someone who was on the “Climb One”.

But no matter how Nemesis thought about it, she couldn’t come up with an answer.

Maybe I ought to take more interest in other people.

It wasn’t that she was someone who liked being alone, really. It was just that she’d been too earnestly focused on her research.

I was studying the hearts of man, and yet I didn’t know anything about the people around me…Geez, if that’s not ironic.

The closer they got to the “black box” that was in the air, the noisier it got.

It seemed there were a great many people up ahead—a gathering of souls.

“We should continue a bit more cautiously,” Allen called out to Nemesis in a warning tone. “We don’t know yet if the people ahead are friend or foe.”

Nemesis nodded and moved forward slowly, hiding herself in the underbrush.

--When they eventually reached the area right under the box, assembled there—

Were men in uniforms.

Their number likely exceeded the hundreds. They were all sitting prostrate before the black box as though they were worshipping it.

“The insignia stitched onto their uniforms…If it isn’t the soldiers of Tasan Elphegort!” Nemesis cried out quietly.

Allen whirled around to face her. “So then that makes them your former underlings.”

“Yeah. To be more accurate, they were devotees of the Tasan Party…There’s a few people I recognize among them.”

Encheri, Polrio, Areus…Nemesis offered up several names.

“In that cause, maybe we don’t have to be so on guard.”

“…I wonder. The atmosphere feels weird. Maybe we should observe a bit—Hey, look…is someone standing up there?”

Nemesis pointed to the top of the box while crouching in the overgrown weeds.

“You’re right, I can see someone. But I can’t tell who it is from here.”

The two of them decided to keep watching events unfold while they remained hidden for a while.

--Maybe two or three minutes went by. The figure on top of the box suddenly issued a booming voice down to those below. “Comrades! Thank you for gathering here!”

At that voice, all the kneeling soldiers looked up at once, and started to chatter.

“That voice…”

Nemesis’ face seemed to pale.

“Friend of yours?” Allen asked.

“Yeah, sort of… Gammon—so he really was in the theater after all.”

There was a time before the world was destroyed where Nemesis had gone to the theater searching for him, Gammon having been the former head of the Tasan Party. She had failed once, and though she’d safely reached the theater a second time…she’d been assailed by a different problem before she could meet with him.

A reunion with her mother…Ultimately Nemesis had quickly fled from the theater, and then afterwards—

--I pushed the firing switch for “Punishment”. For me that was my last memory before the world’s downfall.

Gammon made no followup speech for a time. Perhaps he was waiting for the murmuring of the soldiers to die down.

Eventually, when silence had enclosed the area around them once more…his voice could be heard from above the box again.

“…Among you gentlemen there may be some who don’t understand our current condition. So first I’d like to relay the clear facts to you here—The world was ruined thanks to the reckless rampaging of my successor, Nemesis…We were scattered across the land of Evillious before we could achieve our goals.”

He spoke with less inflection than he had just before.

Even so, his voice resounded to the ears of all who were assembled below him.

There were some among the soldiers who were lamenting and shedding tears, but the majority of them seemed to be waiting for Gammon’s next words with calm expressions.

“—Our souls now wander this world, without being invited up to heaven. Why is that? …I shall give you a bit of history now. The ‘Twins of God’ were born and the Evillious calendar began one thousand years ago. Back in those days there were two kinds of people. The virtuous, and those who were not—The purely malicious ‘HER’s.”

For a short while.

Nemesis and Allen looked above them without a word.

“—The queen of Levianta, Merry-Go-Round, tried to destroy those who had malice, but she failed. In the end, the elements of ‘evil’ were spread all over the world…And that was the start of every tragedy. Ever since, for these one thousand years, various ‘evils’ have caused incidents to occur. The Duke Venomania Event, the Lucifenian Revolution…Perhaps those of you who are religious will say that this is because influential figures of the time were possessed by demons. But…That is wrong! What is truly, sinfully dreadful—is the desires of humanity! The ‘demons’ that dwell in people’s hearts!”

There was cheer from the soldiers.

Gammon waited for it to quiet down, and then continued.

“—‘Evil’ hearts have bring society to misfortune. And that is why we of the Tasan Part fought to exterminate them. …But we were blinded by our focus on our external enemies. We failed to notice that the true ‘evil’ was among us!”

And there, Nemesis gave a small sigh. “Hah…Don’t like this. I can imagine what the rest of his speech is going to be.”

Gammon’s voice resounded.

“—Nemesis! Sadly enough, she too was ‘evil’! …No, not just Nemesis. In spite of our best efforts, the world was already filled with ‘evil’. And so…the gods abandoned this world. …However!”

The tone of his voice changed to be even more passionate.

“There is no need to worry! The gods have given us one last chance, and the power to achieve it. That is this very box—the ‘Blackbox’!”

Once more there was a cheer.

In contrast to that, both Nemesis and Allen had completely solemn expressions.

“—Our fight is not yet over. With this box, and your determination, we shall purify this ‘evil’!” …Hm.”

Suddenly the performance ended, and in the next moment the figure atop the box flew up into the air.

Then he slowly dropped down—until finally, he touched down on the ground.

Just as she had thought, there was no mistaking it—this man was the Gammon Octo that Nemesis had known.

…Have we been spotted!?

Allen and Nemesis crouched even lower upon seeing Gammon gazing around him.

“—You there.”

But the person Gammon spoke to was a soldier that looked a generation younger than the rest of them.

“You look somewhat unsatisfied.”

“N-no…It’s not that.”

“I’m not criticizing you. If you have something you’re thinking of, you should say so without hesitation.”

“—Uh, I—I went around looking at a few things before I came here…It feels like there are a huge number of people on the ground world right now. More than there were before the world was destroyed.”

“That is true. It appears that the gods have chased even the souls that lived in the past from heaven. They number in the ten millions…No, more like they exceed the hundred millions.”

“So then, the ‘evil’ that you speak of, comrade Octo, must be in pretty high number too…Can we fight all of them with just those of us here now?”

In contrast to the young soldier as he spoke with a nervous countenance, Gammon had an extremely calm demeanor—Rather, he was even smiling a little bit.

“I see. That’s a very good question. …But you can relax. There’s no need for us to fight against all of the world’s ‘evil’.”

“—What are you saying?”

“According to ‘god’, ‘evil’ is apparently like branching blood vessels.”

“Hah…”

“For example, if your arm were to get wounded in battle and start spurting out blood…What sort of treatment would you give it?”

“I would disinfect the wound and then stop the bleeding with a bandage.”

“And what if the bleeding didn’t stop?”

“Ah…I would put pressure on a spot on my arm closer to my heart to stop the flow of blood…Probably.”

“That’s exactly right. To make an extreme argument, if you were to stop your heart that is pumping blood through your body, then that blood would stop flowing completely.”

“But…then I would die.”

“Naturally, that’s true. So we can’t do that to our virtuous allies. …But if we were to assume that the item the heart is pumping is not blood but ‘evil’—”

“…I see, I think I’m able to understand now. You mean to say that there is something that’s the root of ‘evil’, rather than one of its ends.”

Gammon put a hand on the soldier’s shoulder.

It seemed that though they were both spirits, they were able to come into physical contact with each other.

“You are correct,” Gammon said with a smile.

“But what in the world is the ‘root’--?”

Gammon looked around at the sitting soldiers without answering the question.

“My comrades. The ‘evil’ we need to vanquish is—only five in number. Once we have erased the five souls that ‘god’ has indicated, then all of the ‘evil’ at the ends will be purified too,” he said, pointing up at the box floating above his head. “Look at the ‘Blackbox’. The individuals that will be projected on there are our targets.”

As though his words were a cue, the front surface of the box began to light up in a grid pattern—After it vanished, the image of a woman in a red outfit showed up on the screen.

“…Banica Conchita. Someone who took in the magical power of ‘Gluttony’ and calls forward the corpses that sleep in the earth. There are likely those among you who have experience fighting with these ‘dead soldiers’. The source that created those repulsive monsters—is her.”

The screen switched over.

What it depicted next was a pink-haired woman. She was wearing a kimono.

The moment he saw that, Allen’s expression grew more severe.

“…Kayo Sudou. Someone who slaughtered an innocent family out of her own selfish envy. Don’t be fooled by her calm appearance. The two scissors that she wields make very dangerous weapons.”

A new figure appeared on the surface of the box.

--Nemesis could clearly hear Allen click his tongue.

“��Riliane Lucifen d’Autriche. The famed ‘Daughter of Evil’. An unforgivable, grave sinner who trampled over our home country of Elphegort out of her own pride.”

It had been all women up to this point, but the next to be displayed was a man’s face.

A great commotion began amongst the soldiers once they saw it.

“…It’s understandable that you all would be surprised. You must think that he—looks extremely like me, right? But he is a different person. Sateriasis Venomania. Lamentably enough, he is my ancestor. He is a man who drowned in his lust, made a flower of malice bloom, and then spread its seeds across the world.”

A man who appeared to be a general raised a hand and stood up. “Comrade Octo, are you…okay with this?”

“With what?”

“Attacking your own ancestor for the sake of justice?”

“Yes. I believe that too is a test given to me by ‘god’,” Gammon answered without a hint of doubt.

On seeing this, the general nodded and once more sat on the ground.

“And now…the next is the last.”

A green-haired girl showed on the box.

“…I have no need to explain her in depth. Nemesis Sudou. The one responsible for destroying the world.”

Nemesis drew closer to Allen in front of her and lightly tapped his shoulder.

“Looks like…we shouldn’t linger her any longer.”

“…Yeah.”

After they exchanged their whispered remarks, they moved to leave before Gammon and the soldiers noticed them.

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sazzafraz · 3 years ago

Text

my pants no longer have coffee on them

nodus tollens!

Over time Sasuke learnt to tell by the smell. Ore meant a blood mutation. Licorice meant bone. Sweet ammonia meant parasites growing fat inside their hosts.

sasuke’s memories of orochimaru are very sensory. i wrote him as a sensory person. i think the whole uchiha ‘hearts too strong to break easy, and that’s a warning’ thing would make them worse at managing their basic five experiences.

Fuyuki shakes her head like a parent would, like Sasuke’s disgust is childish. “It’s an opportunity,” she says neutrally, “we have to make the most of them.” We don’t have the same means and opportunities as others, the silence says, we have to build from ruins and carnage. This is the right reason, boy. Even when it disgusts you. As if that makes doing something they’d kill someone else for doing right. Sasuke looks, and thinks, and looks again, and although he can understand it he can’t justify it.

oh man. at this point fuyuki pretty much knows she’s lost him. she is in fact saying shit to make him leave so she doesn’t have to make him while trying to jam common sense into his brain one last time. who knows if it takes.

“What?” He feels it. Warm, wary, growing distant. Before Yumi was ’kunoichi, dangerous, fun loving’ she now has a little box in his internal checklist that says ‘caution: complicit and unrepentant’.

yeah. this is the thought. oof. dude just wants to trust his friends.

She pats him lightly on the cheek, stepping back to give him some space. “You have my full and free permission to leave at any time. No member of Giri is forced to hold to an allegiance they feel no longer reflects their ideals.” With a wry smile she shakes her head reaching down to pull something from her pouch. “You always had an out.”

He watches her hand. “What’s that?”

“For services rendered.” With a deliberate showiness she flips the object in her hand -a scroll- and holds it out to him. He blinks at her, taking the scroll from her outstretched hand. It’s thin and blue tipped, the personal seal of the Godaime Hokage glows in the night. The future in his hand.

AGAIN. SHE ALWAYS WANTED YOU TO LEAVE. THE POINT IS THAT YOU CAN LEAVE THE CYCLE nvrmind he’s not gonna get it for another 60,000 words.

Sasuke says nothing. The pardon is cold in his hands, shame rolling through his gut. Truth be told he never actually thought he’d get it. Truth be told he’d forgotten about it. There’s never an out, there’s never something given without something taken away. She was honest. She did say what she was going to do. She never offered a single promise. Betrayal is a reflexive emotion for him, though, and he still feels it like a punch. Leaving is a choice. One he has made more often than any other. Being let go of is something he isn’t used to.

woof. a long 60,000 words. still love that last line. fucks most verily.

Giri have flying ships.

never used this. very mad about it.

If extremely pressed Sasuke will admit that he picked Team Hebi based on a wild mix of comfort, usefulness and poorly placed boundaries. Orochimaru collected a bunch of weird traits and weirder expressions of trauma in the kids he lured to Oto; Suigetsu, Karin and Juugo are some of the best examples. Perfectly capable of respecting his needs and following his orders, completely incapable of acting like competent human beings the rest of the time.

oh thank god they’re weird. sasuke actually needs at least three to nine people around him at all times and has never not once thought about how developing his chakra sense in a compound full of other people might effect this. not even once.

Sasuke rolls his eyes, crosses his arms and clearly announces, “We won’t work together again after this.”

Karin and Suigetsu stop squabbling to turn to look at him.

Sasuke shrugs, “I’m going back to Konoha, Suigetsu is going to Kiri, Juugo will stay with Giri and Karin will go to Uzu.”

Karin sniffs delicately. “Back to Konoha?”

karin begins to plan konoha’s downfall. i envision karin as someone with a rather unique personal perspective. she is sasuke focused but its because she literally just thinks differently. i had a little bit for her that was about how uzumaki seals are literally a kind of meta-magic and thats why mito changed the game so much. to be able to use them effectively you have to be able to look at the world strangely. anyway. konoha will never recover from this.

In Oto there were war orphans, normal orphans, freed slaves, second or third generation missing-nin, the odds and ends of clans that had died off, those who had seen their entire families exterminated and those who did the exterminating. In Oto there was no safe dinner conversation.

Except, of course, for the food.

fucks. it fucks.

Juugo chuckles and waves him off. Sasuke is dead certain they’ll meet again. Maybe he’ll find them himself in a few years. He takes one last look behind him, sharingan on, and then leaves quickly and quietly. It’s not a bad snapshot to have. Karin has resorted to using her chains to manage Suigetsu, who is either helping the fire or taking the longest possible route to putting it out, Juugo is calling the small woodland animals and pets out of their homes. There’s an enterprising rabbit on his head. Suigetsu has one sword and Karin has the other. They’re all smiling.

favourite bit of favourite chapter. does not fuck. does gently cuddle and give glowing aftercare.

Walking is in itself a refreshing experience. For the first time in his life there’s nothing to rush to. It’s a free sky: so high, so blue. So filled with things that he’s never seen before. He flicks his sharingan on and off. At sunset the sky fills with the lush pink and orange of change. At night the stars are so bright it feels like he’s counting the freckles on some great dragon’s back. At dawn he lies in the grass and lets the light wake him. He takes a long path winding his way down and around to his birthplace. He has one goal left, one last thing to do before it’s all done and he never thought he’d get this far. There is so little between him and the freedom to finally, finally put this all to rest.

So for the first time he lets himself linger.

The stars lead him into the mouth of a valley, green and bright with flowers. He doesn’t put people to places very often. People are memories. He sees them clearly enough. But he’ll cast a look onto the calm water and think Juugo, onto the high point of a knife and think Yumi, onto the twisting branches of an out of place blooming flower and think Sakura. In darker moments he names the other things. A tree changing out of season, riddled with the beautiful but deadly rings of a strangling vine earns Orochimaru. Just as a black expanse that appears in the middle of night is called father. Just as the ephemeral falling of flowers, the scent, is mother.

The clear sky is called Naruto. The fading mist of dawn is called Brother.

sometimes you’ve just gotta let the prose happen. and then make it sad at the end. i wrote paragraphs about naruto and itachi here and deleted it because haha sasuke WILL NOT THINK ABOUT IT like hes not really thinking about his suicidal ideation. i did recieve more than one comment that was like ‘......wait he wants to kill himself?’ haha! yeah! body made for one thing! he has yet to decide a man is allowed to have multiple life purposes.

“Please,” the woman begs, “please, my child. Take her. Please.”

this is not JUST about how much sasuke would like to save children its just MOSTLY about sasuke being the only one around to do it, and hinata. eventually.

“Sasuke.” Kakashi says.

“Sensei.” Sasuke says automatically. “Hatake. Hatake Kak-”

kakashi, heart in his throat, thinking today is the day he has to kill his sort of son and lose the rest in the grieving: sasuke

sasuke, holding a baby: AHHHHHHHHHHH

Sasuke scowls and shakes his head, looking down at the bundle in his arms. “This is a goddamn baby Hatake.” Then, softer, “It’s a baby. I have to take it somewhere safe.”

kakashi, soothed by the pardon, worried about all of that: sasuke

sasuke, holding a baby he is EMOTIONAL about: AHHHHHHHHHHH

Fuyuki is still radiating smugness as she lets them out. She plucks the baby from his arms, tucking it into hers. Sasuke almost groans, Kakashi is approaching a sulk at break neck speed. As he crosses the threshold of her home Fuyuki grabs him by the end of his hair and yanks, “Oh, Uchiha?”

Sasuke scowls as he pulls out of her hold. “Fucking what Hashira?”

She smiles, baby stuffing the length of her hair in it’s mouth. Sasuke looks at them both and feels an odd sense of accomplishment. Fuyuki mimes a scissoring action. “Cut your hair.”

i’m not going to do the first chapter but this. absolutely. slams. sasuke’s hair is so important but the hair thing was a specific thing about honor and service. about the redemption that a lot of missing nin feel in giri, the longer their hair the more they’ve done to repent. even if sasuke never quite gets it he actually doesn’t cut his hair until after this.and its not by much.

#the author is present #ntfs

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write-like-you-mean-it · 4 years ago

Text

A Hunter’s Prey: Flowing Out like a Current

While lying on the too empty bed, a groan escaped my lips. Calling Milluki is a hell that I didn’t want to experience. Out of everyone else, he’d have the information that I needed. I took out the phone and dialed the home number.

A butler’s voice answered from the other end of the line. This time it was a woman. Usually it was a man who answered the phone. “Hello, Zoldyck residence speaking.”

“Hi, this is Illumi’s fiance,” I said. “I was wondering if you would be able to put me through to Milluki. I’m on a mission and need some guidance.”

There was a short pause before the response, “yes, one second.” The phone clicked over to another line.

“Who is bothering me this late into the night?” shouted Milluki. “You should know this is time for me and my woman.”

“Milluki,” I sigh while my head rests firmly into my hands. On the other side of the screen, I could hear a woman’s voice talking. It was so high pitched and fake that the sound almost made me gag. “This is Y/N. I need your help with something.”

A muffled gasp came across the line which was followed shortly by keystrokes being pounded into the computer. “I’m so sorry M’lady. I hadn’t meant anything by my statements. The butler told me it was my brother on the line. Not your beautiful voice.”

I massaged my temples as the feeling of the throbbing headache started to take over my body. “It's alright. I need you to tell me everything you know about Gon Freecss.”

There were a few more clicks of the keyboard before the girl's voice shut off. “Anything for you. It will only take a second, princess.” A cold shiver ran down my body with the pet name. If I weren’t desperate, I would’ve hung up right then and there; however, he was the only Zoldyck in my arsenal.

“Gon Freecss,” said the voice from the other end. Somehow, it sounded more out of breath than before. Maybe this was the first time actually talking to a girl that wasn’t related to him. “He’s the son of Ging Freecss who has an impeccable track record for a Hunter; terrible record for being a good father. Gon is Killua’s friend. He passed the Hunter exam a few years ago. Him and Kill fought at Heaven Arena recently. His talent is called Jajanken which seems to be like rock, paper, scissors. He was recently part of the Chimera Ant Extermination Team. He was injured while fighting and was in the hospital for awhile. Now he resides at Whale Island with his aunt and grandma. That is all that I could find, princess.”

A small gag couldn’t have been helped. “Thank you Milluki,” I sighed. “Is there anything else that you could tell me? Are you sure that’s it?”

“I can look for more. Why do you need to know this? Is Illumi pushing you too hard? YOu can always come back to me. I’ll treat you well.”

The longer I was on the phone, the more bile rose in my throat. As much as I wanted to scream misogyny against this perverted soon-to-be brother-in-law, I had to keep him on my side. It’s a disgusting balance between morals and obligation. “Thank you, Milluki,” I repeated. “If you find anything else, please call me. Only call me for those details. I’m undercover so answering things will be hard.”

“Be safe, my love,” purred Milluki. “Come back to me whenever Illumi betrays you. I’ll be-” Click. If I’d listen to any more of his dribble, I was going to be sick. My arm cascaded back to the bed as a sign of defeat. There must be more about this boy if Illumi would tell me to see him specifically. A nice sleep will become my only solace in this mind game of my life.

-------------------------

I awoke later than expected. Sleeping had felt like a chore before. It was an end to a mean. Last night, it was hard to fall asleep. I’d been surrounded by someone else for the past few months so that the lack of people made me anxious.

My mind was still groggy from tossing and turning throughout the night. A cup of coffee and a warm shower should ease the throbbing head and aching muscles. Water cascading down my spine felt like a dip into my peace. A calming sensation washed over me with every inch of water. Once I got out, I felt refreshed and new. Only the cup of coffee and I’d be like myself again.

I changed into a different pair of clothes before meeting the small boy from before. He said to go to the marketplace so that is where I will be until he returns. A single step outside the hotel showed the marketplace. The courtyard turned from a desolate wasteland to a thriving, bustling town. People shouted and called their wares for sale. A lot of fishermen’s wives were selling fish caught in the morning tides while their husbands stayed out late.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the little boy running around the shops. He seemed to be looking for something. His eyes fell onto a small candy stall where he bought a piece.

“Gon,” I called while waving my hand in the air. The boy turned to look at me as his eyes narrowed.

“Hi,” she says while walking up to me.

“Follow me. We’re gonna get away from people.” I cocked my head before following the small boy away from the group of people. He led me to a ridge of the mountain top that overlooked the ocean.

The ocean was a beautiful shade of deep blue in the cascading sunlight. Only a glimpse of the lighter shades would appear when the current washed over the sides. The pushing and pull of the current was transfixing.

“Why do you want to meet Killua?” asked Gon. He was getting straight to the point. He was intimidating for as young as he was. I could see deep within his eyes that there was a caution to his tone that was not there for long.

“To be honest,” I sigh while taking a seat on the cliff edge. “I don't know. Actually, Illumi told me to stay far away from Killua. I was only to find you.”

“Huh?” he asked while sitting next to me. “Why were you looking for me?”

“To see where Killua is.”

“I’m not going to tell you. He’s too important to me. Plus you’re with Illumi.”

“Well I’m with him but not physically. He’s gone for awhile and I have no way to contact him.” The crashing sound of waves became the intermediate sound between our voices. “He’s gone on a mission.”

“Killua doesn’t want to be like Illumi,” said Gon. “He doesn’t want to be like his family at all.”

I turn to look at Gon’s stoic face as he stares across the ocean. But if he is to be the heir of the household, how can he not want to be an assassin? “Interesting,” I sigh while kicking a small rock off the cliff side. “Gon, what happened? I heard you were involved in an accident. Are you alright now?”

A brief pause filled the hot air. This pause was different than when with Illumi. Gon’s pause held more desperation and sadness than Illumi’s.

“I got hurt because I was too strong. If it wasn’t for Killua, I wouldn't be here. That is why I have to protect him.”

“So, Killua means the world to you?”

“Yes.”

“He sounds like a good friend. I recently almost saw my best friend die. A few of my other ones did. It changes a person. If it wasn’t for Illumi, I would’ve been dead.”

“Illumi?”

“Yeah. Hisoka would’ve killed me.”

Gon’s face turned to look at me. His stoic demour paused for a second to see the child-like wonder held deep within his eyes. “You almost died by Hisoka? Why didn’t he kill you?”

“Long story, kid,” I sigh while watching the water once again. “Did you hear what happened in Heaven’s Arena the other night?”

“No. Aunt Mito told me that I have to finish my homework instead. I’m lucky that she let me meet you. Normally I’d be doing my chores about now.”

“If you need help with them, I’d gladly help. I have to make up with you missing part of your day talking with me.”

“Thanks! That’d be really nice of you.” For the first time, I saw him smile. “But what happened at Heaven’s Arena?”

“Oh. Hisoka versus Chrollo battle. Hisoka lost and went on a rampage against the troupe. Which is why I’m worried for Illumi and Machi. He’s already killed-” Tears filled my eyes but I refused to let them drop. “He killed Shalnark and Kortopi. His goal is to kill the rest.”

“Wow. Hisoka lost a battle. I’ve never even seen him get close to losing. I was only able to punch him in the face.”

“You battled that lunatic?” I questioned.

“Only because he challenged me,” said the hyper boy. “I could only become a Hunter if I was able to hit him in the face.

“Was that one of the rules? Truly, I’m new to all this stuff. Being a Hunter was never my top priority so I never took the test.”

“This was after the test. We had to learn Nen to get to the 200th floor. We were able to train while fighting. It was so cool. I was able to-”

My thoughts shifted to the battle once again. All the chaotic elements mixed together. It must’ve been a different battle than the one I witnessed. I doubt he would have battled this child to death. Why would Illumi want to be friends with a monster that would hurt a child?

“-So do you know Nen?” I realized that Gon was still talking as I finally came back to reality.

“Yes I do. I’m not that great at it yet. How about you?”

Sadness filled his eyes once again. “Yeah. I learned about it. But because of the accident, I can’t use it at the moment. That doesn’t mean I won’t try. I just have to figure out how to get it flowing again.”

A thought popped into my head. “Gon, you know Nen well, right?”

“I wouldn’t say well. I still get confused with the harder stuff.”

“How about I show that I’m trustful while you train me? That way you can practice Nen even when you don’t have it and I can learn more.”

“Okay! I haven’t had a student before!” With that, I could see excitement once again fill his eyes.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Full Masterlist

#illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #HunterXHunter #hxh #a hunter's prey #chapter 34

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britishassistant · 4 years ago

Text

But I Like One Piece (11)

The scar on her lip is kind of a pain.

It feels strange for one thing, tough and bumpy, making her aware of its presence every time her mouth shifts or when she gets too excited while talking or when she yawns too widely.

Of course, once she’s reminded that it’s there, she want to fiddle with it. But for some reason whenever she gets bored enough to do so, Naruto or Sakura or whoever’s sitting closest to her will grab her arm and say “No.” in a Very Stern Voice.

It almost feels a little demeaning. Not quite, but almost.

What is demeaning is Uchiha glaring at her, and demanding, “Are you some kind of coward?”

She blinks, thermos of miso halfway to her mouth. “Beg your pardon?”

He eyes her disdainfully. “We’re going to be ninja. We fight to kill our enemies—”

“I’m going to be a pirate, actually.” She interrupts.

Naruto snorts softly into his rice.

“—Pirates kill people too, shut up.” Uchiha hisses.

“Wait. Is this about the biting thing?” She asks, incredulous. Surely not. Uchiha is a clan kid. He should know how this works—

Uchiha sniffs imperiously. “You’ll just drag me down if you always need Sakura to save you from a fight.”

Apparently not.

Robin give her strength.

“Hey!” Kiba yells. “Sakura beating up Ami was totally badass. Mizuki-sensei shoulda given her a medal instead of detention!”

Sakura goes as pink as her hair as Akamaru yips in agreement, mumbling something about it not being a big deal around her second stick of dango. She does return the fist bump Kiba offers though.

“That’s not the point.” Uchiha retorts dismissively. “The point is we’re going to fight and kill as ninja— don’t.” He stabs an accusing finger in her direction and she raises her hands in mock surrender. “And Ketsugi never fights back. She says stuff, but then she runs away, or lets other people take care of it, or hurts herself. It’s weak, stupid cowardice.”

The last word is said with such vehemence that it’s hard for her not to flinch.

“Well, it’s not like I have any choice.” She snaps, irritably.

Uchiha scoffs. “What are you talking about?! The only thing stopping you is your own stupid, cowardly ideas about pacifism!!”

She blinks, trying to process that last bit. “What? What on earth are you on about?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know!” He screams, all but jumping out of his seat, “It’s just like him! I’m not watching another one—not when I can stop it!!”

Uchiha looms over her, glaring down, chest heaving from the force of his yelling.

She has no idea what he’s talking about. She feels more worried for him than insulted at this point.

“Hey Shino.” Chouji cuts in, munching on his second onigiri. “There are insects that don’t get along with your bugs, right? Ones that weren’t born in your hive?”

Shino tilts his head, letting his insects eat bits of strawberry from his daifuku off his finger. “That is a technically true statement. Why? Because while my kikaichū do not have natural enemies in the way ants and termites are opposed to one another, there are several species of insect and arachnid that would prey upon them, which have been utilized by imitator clans in other hidden villages.”

“Right.” Chouji continues. “So, let’s say you found one of these bugs that eats them had injured one of yours. Not killed, but injured. What do you do?”

Shino stiffens, but replies, “I would exterminate it. Why? Because it has proven itself a viable threat to my colony.”

“Wh-that doesn’t mean anything!” Uchiha interrupts. “It’d have to be one of Aburame’s bugs attacking another of the same hive, since Ketsugi was born here, so—”

“No I wasn’t.”

Uchiha actually has the gall to shoot her a disbelieving look. “Yes you were.”

“No I wasn’t.” She hisses, leaning forward. “I was born in Iron, like my father. One of my earliest memories is him and my mother leaving the country, on the run from something that made it better to drug their baby rather than let me cry and have whatever it was find us.”

A hush falls over the table.

“That would explain why you’re here, in Konoha.” Shikamaru says slowly. “Even if it’s not the closest to Iron, it’s one of the strongest hidden villages, so pursuers would have trouble trying to get through our defenses.”

“And guess what happens if the village decides me and mine are too much trouble to live here anymore?” She snaps, taking a swig of her miso.

It’s gone lukewarm.

Uchiha’s turned pale, staring blankly down at his bruschetta. He slowly sits back down.

“So...” Kiba says, feeding Akamaru some pork belly. “Are you, like, some kinda lost princess or something?”

“What? No, of course not.” Ino and Sakura’s eyes take on a worrying gleam. “I said no. I’m not. No. Stop that. Stop it right now, the pair of you.”

“We’re not doing anything~” Sakura sing-songs, hands clasped against her chest.

She squints at them, lips thinning. “Lies.”

“Hey hey, Mayu-chan,” Ino says, leaning forward. “If you just happened to be a lost princess or daimyo’s daughter hiding from a usurper’s assassins, you’d totally hook your best besties in the entire world up with some hot princes, right?”

“Does Naruto even like princes?” She replies, bracing herself against Sakura’s playful assault on her shins and Ino’s tossed napkins. “Ow, ow, I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

“Aw, what! I wanna meet a prince, believe it!” Naruto whines, though his playful tone sounds a little strained.

“Tough.” She sticks her tongue out at him. He blows a raspberry back in response.

“So who were your family in Iron?” Chouji asks, passing her an apple slice.

She shrugs, handing him her cookie. “Just one of the many, many samurai clans who serve the Iron daimyo. Like the Kiryuuin, the Kurogane, the Kishi, the Kageyama, the Kihote, the Kikuchi, the Kaname, the Koremune, the Kusakabe, and loads of others.”

“Do all of these clan names start with ‘K’ sounds?” Hinata asks.

“...No.” She says.

“Could you give us an example one that doesn’t?” Hinata asks.

“...The Okashi.”

“What the heck, that doesn’t count! They just slapped an ‘O’ in front of the ‘Ka’!” Kiba complains, Akamaru barking his agreement.

“You’re the last person to say anything about ‘K’ names.” Shikamaru replies.

“You’ve not got much room to talk either, Shika-kun.” Chouji ribs, nudging his friend.

From there it devolves into a debate about how many “k” sounds are in whose names, and who has the right to criticize an excess of “k’s” based off of that. So far, only Shino and Hinata are awarded that honor.

Naruto isn’t as active in the conversation as he usually is, only responding when addressed directly, staring into space when not.

Uchiha doesn’t say much at all.

Naruto goes straight to the swing-set outside the Academy once the day ends.

She follows him, watching curiously as he clambers up to stand on the swing, looking up at something behind her with a solemn expression on his face, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

She goes up to the tree and sits between its roots to wait.

Lee comes out of the Academy, and come striding towards them. “Greetings Mayu-chan! Naru—”

“Ssh!” She hushes, jerking her head towards Naruto.

Lee instantly clams up, a quizzical expression on his face.

She shuffles a bit to the side and pats the ground next to her, and he plops down to sit cross-legged beside her.

“What’s Naruto doing?” He whispers to her.

“I don’t know.” She whispers back. “But he’s concentrating really hard, so I didn’t want to disturb him.”

Lee nods in understanding, then waves silently but with great enthusiasm at a girl with her hair in buns who passes them.

She seems like a nice girl, because she waves back.

They play five rounds of rock-paper-scissors, four of which Lee wins, and one of which results in a hushed debate about whether “gun” is a “youthful” option in this game, before Naruto finally speaks.

“I’m gonna be the Hokage, believe it.”

They look up at him, standing on the swing, jaw set in determination, hair swaying in the breeze that swirls a few leaves past his face.

“...Okay? Weren’t you always going to be Hokage though?” She asks, not quite seeing where he’s going with this.

“Wh—yes, but s’more than that.” Naruto says, exasperation evident in his tone.

He lets go of one of the swing’s ropes, and gazes down at his clenched fist. “I wanted to be Hokage ‘cause old Jiji’s the most respected person in the village. Everyone loves him, an’ he protects everyone, because everyone’s his precious people.”

He looks at them, eyes bright and painfully earnest. “But even though everyone in the village is precious, some’ve them’re still so mean to you, and to Otou-san and to Okaa-san, just for being from somewhere not here, f’r bein’ different, an’ that’s not fair. So I wanna be Hokage, so I can tell them not to be mean. I’m gonna be Hokage so you don’t have to bite yourself anymore, and so we can all always go home to Okaa-san and Otou-san and Gai-sensei an’ eat tortoise bread. So everyone can be happy, and understand I’ll protect everyone, no matter what, believe it. What foods we like is more important than where we’re from, right?”

Oh.

She swallows around a lump in her throat. “Right. T-that’s exactly, exactly right.”

Lee gives a great sniff, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Your resolve is highly youthful, Naruto! I am sure you will even surpass the Yondaime when you become Hokage!!”

Naruto rubs the back of his head, grinning widely.

Then a stronger gust of wind rocks the swing and he teeters dangerously, arm windmilling as she and Lee lunge forward to catch him, try to cushion his fall somewhat.

She’s partly successful as Lee’s lunge ends up knocking Naruto off the swing entirely, the pair landing on her with a thud that drives the air from her lungs and leaves her wheezing.

“Ow.”

They end up half-limping home.

Otou-san is dozing on the couch, and he blinks awake drowsily at their chorus of “we’re home,” only to tilt his head in sleepy confusion.

“What happened to you three?” He asks, nodding towards her dust and bark covered dress as he picks a few leaves off of Naruto’s clothes, before pulling aside some of Lee’s hair to see the faint bruise where the swing swung back and clocked him in the head. “Did you all get into a fight at the Academy?”

They share a glance.

“N—” Lee starts.

“Yes.” She hastily cuts in, “Big fight. Very nasty.”

Naruto nods vigorously along with her. “Yeah, there were loads of missing nin with huge swords an’ killer laser jutsu an’ stuff.”

“That does sound scary,” Otou-san says, gently ruffling Lee’s hair with bandaged hands. “Lee, why don’t you go get an icepack from the freezer for that bruise? They’re on the top shelf.”

As Lee nods and trot off to the kitchen, her father shifts to sit more upright on the couch. “What were missing-nin doing at the Academy anyway?”

“They thought Mayu-chan was a lost princess, so they were tryna steal her for ransom.” Naruto replies, kneeling next to the couch so he can receive hair ruffles as well.

“Ah, I see.” Otou-san smiles, obliging him. “Mayu-chan, your mother is waiting in the back yard to do that.”

“Already?” She grimaces. She’d forgotten— thought she had more time...

“You don’t have to.” Otou-san urges softly. “There’s no shame in not doing it. I never did when I was your age. We could tell—”

“No.” She says firmly, fists clenched. “I-I want to do this too. Just—let me go prepare, alright?”

Her father nods slowly, his face solemn. She turns and climbs the stairs, ignoring Naruto’s worried stares or his queries about what was going on.

Sanji and Brook give her courage. Let it be over quickly, at least.

“Done.” Okaa-sama says, and she can barely contain her shudder of relief.

Her mother hands her a mirror, brushing stray bits off her shoulders. “Just as it always is, see?”

She keeps her gaze on her newly trimmed fringe and the Nico Robin cut brushing her shoulders, pretending she doesn’t see the shorn, wet slivers littering her clothes and the ground around her.

“Thank you, Okaa-san.” She smiles weakly, gratefully accepting the hug she receives and trying to ignore the pit of guilt in her stomach.

“I don’t get it.” Naruto says, sitting on the threshold of the back door. “What’s so bad about a haircut?”

“Well, for samurai, long hair is a mark of honor.” Otou-san says, hands folded into his kimono sleeves. “To have it cut off is a sign that you are no longer a samurai, which is highly dishonorable for lots of people in Iron. Mayu-chan has the spirit of a true samurai, so she hates having her hair cut.”

“Is that why you still have long hair, Jirou oji-san?” Lee asks, sipping on a cup of juice while holding a half-thawed ice pack to his head.

Otou-san tries to do an overdramatic flip of his braid, making the two boys giggle when it just ends up smacking him in the arm. “My hair is far too lustrous to be cut by the likes of sword or scissors!”

“Care to prove it, dear?” Okaa-san challenges, brandishing her scissors playfully.

Her father retreats back into the house in mock-fear. “You’re one of the lights of my life, darling! Even in the Pure Lands, my love for you will burn brighter than the sun!”

Her mother shakes her head. “And mine for you will shine brighter than the moon. Now inside, all of you, so we can begin making dinner.”

The discussion about hair continues through the preparation of hamburger steaks with sautéed greens.

Naruto and Lee are suitably amazed by the idea of women in Iron wearing their hair practically down to their ankles. Her brain just keeps conjuring up a mental image of Kumadori from CP9 in a woman’s kimono, with his long pink hair and kabuki poses.

“Doesn’t their hair get dirty, Mayu’s Okaa-san?” Naruto asks, almost dropping the patty he’s throwing between his hands.

Her mother shrugs. “I’m sure it must do— I was just as surprised as you when I saw it after I married your Otou-san and moved into the clan compound. I must confess, I never really understood the fascination for long hair that a lot of people in Iron have.”

“Do they not wear it like that in Kiri, Chie oba-san?” Lee says, depositing his chili flake-and-paprika-filled hamburger into the hissing frying pan.

“Oh, they can.” Her mother says, finally taking Naruto’s hamburger off him when he fumbles it again. “My baby cousin Mei had hair down to here.” She wiggles an elbow as she deposits the patty into the pan. “But since her hair was so thick and wavy, she found it a headache to deal with. Mayu-chan’s lucky she got her father’s fine hair, even with my color.”

“I love this color.” Otou-san declares, leaning over from stirring the spinach to plant a loud, wet kiss on Okaa-san’s cheek.

She pretends to gag as Naruto snickers, while Lee watches the display of affection with bright, shining eyes.

“Anyway.” She interrupts loudly. “Otou-san, what are we going to do for practice with the bokken? We were gonna move into fighting opponents before—”

There’s a moment of awkward silence as everyone tries to avoid thinking about what “before” signified.

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that, Mayu-chan.” Her father says, smile a touch too wide and gleeful. “I’ve made arrangements so we shouldn’t be thrown off our planned course too much. You may even pick it up faster!”

She understands the reason behind his glee the next morning.

She wishes she didn’t.

“You can’t be serious.” She says to her grinning father.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He beams. “This is the perfect way for you to get used to fighting an opponent. You need to learn how to adapt what I’ve taught you to counter a variety of fighting styles, given that it’s unlikely every opponent you face will be playing by the same rules you are.”

“Yosh! Well-said, Jirou-san!” Gai-sensei cheers, far too energetic for someone who’s just made them to do thirty laps around Konoha on one leg.

He finishes warming up and takes up opening position for Strong Fist style. “Now, Mayu-chan! Your aim for today will be to land a single blow on me before I disarm you! When you succeed, we will move on to landing two consecutive blows, then three, and so on until you are able to spar against me properly. Are you ready?”

The feeling of imminent regret is an old and familiar friend by this point.

She tries to make sure her grip on the bokken is as solid as possible. “Ready.”

By the time her mother opens the back door, she’s lying on her back, panting from the effort of trying to stand, and the bokken is lodged at the top of the neighbor’s tree.

She hadn’t even landed a hit once.

Even with her father yelling “helpful” advice like “Go for the hands!” once chakra had come into play.

“You have a visitor, Mayu-chan.” Okaa-san says.

“Ah, greetings young Uchiha! How are you this most youthful morning?” Gai-sensei asks cheerily, like he isn’t half-way to scaling the garden fence to get her weapon back for her.

She turns her head to the side, just in time to catch sight of Uchiha staring at the green-spandex-clad wonder that is Gai-sensei in silent stupefaction.

She wishes she had a camera so she could capture his expression.

Uchiha shakes his head, as though to disperse the shock of acknowledging Gai-sensei’s existence, then looks around until he sees her on the ground.

“What are you doing?” He asks, brows drawn down like he’s personally offended by her presence.

“Dying.” She tells him flatly. “Lee gets Habu-san, and Naruto gets all my cookbooks. He’ll eat way too much ramen otherwise.”

Uchiha glances between where Gai-sensei is making a lot of rustling noises and at her, considering. “Can I have the sword?”

She snorts. “Like shit, that’s Sakura’s. You get the all purpose flour.”

Her father sighs and kneels down to offer her an arm up. “Language, young lady. You did very well today.”

Her legs wobble under her and it’s a fight not to collapse right back down.

Gai-sensei leaps from the tree with a yell, rolling and neatly popping up in front of them with a thumbs up. “Yes! Once you stop freezing up in the face of jutsu, you’ll land a blow on me for sure, Mayu-chan!”

Uchiha shoots her a look that is extremely judgmental. “You couldn’t even land one hit?”

“Shut up Uchiha.” She says, taking the bokken back from Gai-sensei with a tired nod. “Why are you here, anyway? Is there a problem with cooking today?”

“We’re not doing that.” Uchiha drops his voice a few octaves. “I’m giving you the opportunity to prove your fighting spirit. You versus me. No politics, no cowardice. No holding back.”

The wind picks up, a cold draft that swirls leaves between them.

“Do you want me to die? No.” She says, leaning on the bokken. “I’ve spent all morning getting my a—”Her mother clears her throat pointedly. “—My butt kicked. I need a rest. And food.”

“Wh—I’ll give you food!” Uchiha blusters. “A-and it’s not just you! I’m fighting everyone!! You can rest while I fight Lee or Shino or something!”

“SUCH YOUTHFUL SPIRIT!!” Gai-sensei bellows, throwing an arm over Uchiha’s shoulders. “You truly are a paragon of your clan’s sense of camaraderie, young Sasuke! I would be honored if you would allow me to witness your battle with Lee!!”

“Young Sasuke” cringes away from the spandex’d arm. “No. No adults allowed. They’ll just hold us back.”

Gai-sensei wilts.

“Mayu can take some pictures of the fight for us!” Okaa-san adds quickly. “She’ll be happy to do it, won’t you Mayu?”

Gai-sensei immediately perks back up. “What a youthful idea, Chie-san!! Mayu-chan, be sure to capture these expressions of Youth as best you can! We’re counting on you!”

He shoots her a vigorous thumbs-up as her mother goes pink and swoons.

“Ah, I think our camera’s in a drawer over here—” Otou-san darts into the house, muttering under his breath about where he last saw it.

She stares blearily up at them. “Can I have a shower and some breakfast first?”

By the time she comes back down from her shower, the atmosphere feels very...awkward.

Lee’s arrived, and has been armed with their family camera on a thick cord around his neck. It’s what she’d consider an old one, big and bulky, that prints out its photos from a little slit on the bottom.

He waves to her, his mouth full of rice. She gives him a little wave back.

Uchiha is sitting stiffly in Naruto’s chair, staring down at an untouched plate of tamagoyaki like it’ll hold all the answers to the universe.

Okaa-san is washing dishes, back tense. She hands her a plate without a word.

Otou-san’s mouth is drawn, bandaged hand curled into a loose fist. He doesn’t even seem to notice Gai-sensei’s hand on his arm.

Gai-sensei smiles at her, but it’s strained. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost say it was worried.

She wants to ask what happened in a cool, sneaky way that wouldn’t make the situation get worse, like Robin or Nami or Sanji or Brook can. But she’s not smart enough for that.

So she shovels egg and rice into her mouth, trying to eat as quickly as possible.

She wishes Naruto was here. It’s not fair the Hokage gets him for practically the whole two days on these weekends.

She kicks Uchiha’s ankle under the table. When he yelps and glares at her, she nods towards his plate and mouths “EAT”.

He scowls at her, but finally takes a bite, chewing aggressively.

They clear their plates in silence.

“I guess we’re heading out.” She says, after putting their dirty dishes in the sink. Uchiha just grunts and heads straight for the door.

Even Zoro has better manners than that kid.

“See you later Gai-sensei, Jirou-oji-san, Chie-oba-san!” Lee yells, holding the camera tightly. “Mayu-chan and I will fight with all of our youthful spirit today!”

“Lee!” Gai-sensei cries, tears streaming down his face. “You’ve worked so hard in training...I know all your youthful efforts will allow your strength to blossom!!”

“Gai-sensei!” Lee yells back, beginning to cry himself.

“Lee!”

“Gai-sensei!”

She chuckles despite herself. “I’ll make sure to get a lot of good pictures, Okaa-san, Otou-san.”

Her mother catches her face in a soapy hand, thumb stroking over her cheek. Her eyes are impossibly sad, for some reason.

“We love you, Mayu.” She says. “You know that, right?

She smiles. “Of course I know. I love you too. Even more than Luffy loves meat.”

The worry on Okaa-san’s face melts into fondness. She leans forward to plant a kiss on her forehead, then steps aside so Otou-san can wipe the soap off her cheek with a tea-towel and plant a noisy kiss there instead.

Uchiha makes an impatient noise in the hallway, so she and Lee shout their goodbyes as they follow him out of the door.

Lee really likes the camera.

It took him a little bit to work out the settings to keep the photograph from being under or overexposed, but now he’s merrily snapping away at anything that captures his attention.

Which, so far, has included a bunch of pink flowers, a dog, a bird in its nest, a couple of ninja outside a weapon shop, an old lady in a pretty kimono who called him “a very nice boy”, and three babies in matching ninja-themed prams.

“Can you stop that and get a move on?!” Uchiha snaps. “There won’t be any film left at this rate.”

“Ah! Not to worry, Uchiha-kun!” Lee digs around and pulls out three black capsules of the stuff from...somewhere. “Jirou-oji-san was nice enough to insist I take extra!”

Uchiha groans and slaps his hands over his face as Lee catches sight of a curry restaurant and snaps a shot of its sign.

“Aw, lighten up Uchiha. Let him have his fun.” She ribs gently. “Where’s the harm?”

He stops in the street. When she looks back at him, he’s trembling slightly, fists clenched.

“Fun doesn’t make you stronger.” He sneers, “It’s a weakness that sets you up to be killed.”

He strides forward and body-checks her out of the way, stomping off down the road.

She stares after him, more than a little disquieted, scratching at her scar before following.

She stops and stares.

Along the top of the Uchiha compound there are katana, naginata, sai, spears, daggers, arrows, knives, staffs with kunai tied to the top, even what looks like a fishing pole.

All of them have been bound to the top of the exterior wall by copious amounts of black wire and tape, rusting or ornamental blades jabbing at the sky like a hedgehog’s spines.

Lee lifts the camera and snaps a picture.

The rest of their lunchtime group is standing near the entrance to the compound, also gaping at the wall’s spiky additions.

“Ah, Sasuke-kun!” Sakura says. “Um, what’s all this?”

Uchiha scoffs. “I know you’re a civilian, but even you can recognize traps, can’t you?”

“Aren’t traps supposed to be hidden?” Kiba mutters, Akamaru whining on top of his head.

Uchiha pushes open the door, pausing to unhook what looks like several tripwires and other mechanisms. “Even that man wouldn’t be able to get past all of this. He wouldn’t even dare chance it!”

They all begin trooping inside, only for Uchiha to quickly turn and say, “Step exactly where I step if you don’t want to die.”

There’s a veritable web of tripwires crossing the path through the compound, spidering haphazardly up trees and the sides of buildings. Several of the abandoned stores have been rigged with what looks like the sharp things Uchiha couldn’t mount on the wall, alongside what she thinks she recognizes as rudimentary explosives.

Usopp preserve us, she thinks as they gingerly pick their way through the tangle after the last Uchiha, who may have gone off the deep end while they weren’t looking.

Shikamaru mutters “Troublesome,” like an oath.

13 notes · View notes

medea10 · 5 years ago

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Medea’s Top 20 Animes of the Decade

Hey all! Disappointed in some “best of” lists of this past decade? Well…prepared to be possibly disappointed some more because I’m doing one now! Here’s a top 20 list of my favorite animes that came out in the 2010’s. I seriously couldn’t do 10 this time due to how many awesome animes came out this decade. Unlike my anime superlative list, I’m going to be stricter here. Anything that aired in Japan before January 2010 is stricken from the list (which sucks because that means Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood & InuYasha: The Final Act are disqualified). And these are going to be MY favorites from this decade. Be aware that there will be popular animes I leave off the list due to my own personal opinions and the fact that some of them I have not watched yet. So I’m just going to tell you right now, don’t expect My Hero Academia, Hunter x Hunter, or Demon Slayer on this list because I have not watched any of that shit! Let’s get cracking!

20. Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card (2018)

After nearly 20 years since the end of the first series, Cardcaptor Sakura returns with a sequel no one asked for and no one expected to come back. But it definitely brought back the nostalgia for those who grew up watching CCS. This story gives a continuation where Sakura is in middle school and ends up collecting a whole new set of mysterious cards. And the series is what you would expect with the cutesy feel whenever Sakura is with Li or it gets really intense when Sakura’s up against a really powerful card. While the ending leaves us on a bit of a cliffhanger with no continuation in sight, this series was one of the best reboots I’ve watched in recent years.

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll, FUNimation, & Hulu Coming soon to home video

19. The Rising of the Shield Hero (2019)

This is my first (modern) Isekai and I gotta say I really enjoyed the story. Unlike other anime characters that travel to another world, the main character Naofumi is not praised as a savior nor put on a golden pedestal. Quite the opposite, this guy has to fight for even a shred of respect from anybody. Because after watching past protagonists like Miaka Yuuki, Kagome, and Kirito, that trope gets boring. Despite many of these episodes making me physically ill as I watched Naofumi being shit on by the other heroes and everybody else, it was great to watch this struggle with Naofumi to become a great shield hero.

P.S. Myne is still a raging cunt!

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll & FUNimation

18. My Love Story!! (2015)

One of the BEST rom-com animes out there! The story of a gentle giant boy named Takeo falling in love with a sweet, petite girl named Yamato and their story as a couple. Yeah, the big difference between this anime and a bunch of other anime rom-coms is that Takeo and Yamato reveal their love for each other in episode 4 in a 24 episode series! By anime standards, that’s unheard of because most love stories want to wait until the finale for something like that. This anime is just a cute story of watching Takeo and Yamato bloom with their budding relationship. Yeah, I admit some of the stories can be a little boring. Sometimes the beginnings of romances have a slow-start before we get to the good stuff. But even when they’re doing little things, they’re just so cute to watch.

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll, HI-DIVE & Hulu Available for home video

17. Durarara!! (2010, 2015-2016)

This story is a complete cluster-fuck, but I don’t care. The stories that come from this anime and the characters make this one of my favorites. Durarara follows the strange stories that happen around the town of Ikebukuro with a headless motorcycle rider, super-human strengthed men, an internet troll who loves to mess with humans, otakus, a mad scientist, a parasitic carrier, and gangs of different sorts. But if you would ask me what’s my favorite thing about Durarara (because there’s a lot of random things for anyone to choose), it would of course be any time Shizuo Heiwajima is on the screen. This guy is just pure rage in a bartender’s outfit. He’s able to casually pick up and throw a vending machine at a person, he can punch the clothes off a guy’s body, and even kick a mid-sized car down the street.

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll, Hulu & Netflix Available for home video

16. Daily Lives of High School Boys (2012)

If you’re looking for something random and hilarious to watch, look no further with this one. Each episode has random segments, mostly featuring three boys, Tadakuni, Hidenori, and Yoshitake in some of the most absurd moments ever showcased in an anime. Just to name a few fun moments; being caught experimenting with women’s underwear, finding a clever way to kill a hornet (indirect kiss), intellectual talk with a cute girl, using your jacket as a soccer ball replacement, and how to unzip your fly without using your hands! That last one still confounds me. But the show also expands to other characters around school and town. I know this series is severely random to have a coherent plot, but sometimes I prefer randomness. And that’ll continue with the next entry!

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll Available for home video

15. Nichijou (2011)

Yet another random segment anime (only this time with girls)! I know the official title is “My Ordinary Life”, but there is nothing ordinary about an anime where you have a six year old professor, a talking robot girl that was created by the six-year old professor, a talking black cat, high school girls capable of body-flipping police officers, a young boy who rides a goat to school, a high school girl capable of firing a bazooka, and a principal who fights a deer. That last one is just epic! If for no other reason to watch Nichijou, just watch the scene where the principal fights a deer! Much like Daily Lives of High School Boys, this series relies more on the random shenanigans of many of these characters (but mostly the main three girls, Mio, Yuuko, and Mai). It’s silly and fun! Check it out and give this anime a little love. Because there’s no way it’s getting a second season (Japan showed no love for this one)!

Available to watch on: FUNimation Available for home video

14. ERASED (2016)

I don’t care what manga readers say, this was a fine anime, you anal-rententive fuck-wipes (soooo not sorry for that statement)! This murder-mystery captured my attention when it first aired. The story is about a man named Satoru who has this ability to go backwards in time (usually a few seconds or minutes) to prevent a tragedy from occurring. But after an incident involving his mother, he ends up going all the way back to his ten-year old body in 1988 in order to prevent a tragedy from his childhood. This included saving his classmate, Kayo from her premature demise. It was a catchy time-leaping mystery that would enthrall me week after week…up to a certain point. Yeah, you can already guess who the culprit was early on. But all the suspense leading up to this was still a great tale.

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll & Hulu Available for home video

13. Panty & Stocking w/ Garterbelt (2010)

GAINAX, you wishy-washy, crazy-ass, can’t give a full conclusion to a story to save your life, leaving us on a decade-long cliffhanger bastards, YOU’VE DONE IT AGAIN!

So this bizarre-ass anime is about two bitch-angels kicked out of Heaven, named Panty and Stocking. One likes to fuck men and the other gorges herself on sweets! In order to get back into Heaven, they must exterminate ghosts with the help of a black priest named Garterbelt, a fanboy named Briefs, and an Invader Zim knock-off named Chuck. And did I mention Panty and Stocking use their own lingere as weapons to take down ghosts? This story is balls-to-the-wall insane! And it gets crazier when you pop in the English dub! Dick jokes, fart jokes, and a whole lot of fucks! As any superhero show will do, this anime does stay to the villain of the episode trope with a few leeways here and there. This included a segment dedicated to the late Satoshi Kon and a music video. All of this leading to an ending NO ONE expected to happen leaving us on a cliffhanger that is now going on 10 years. Regardless, this absurdity in a thong is a treasure to behold. I would also advise not doing a drinking game whenever one of them says “Fuck”. You’d be dead by the end of the first episode!

Available to watch on: FUNimation Available for home video

12. Attack on Titan (2013, 2017-2019)

*singing incoherent Japanese*

YEAGER!!!

Get ready to get hooked on two of the catchiest opening themes of all time! I thought it was just about a young boy taking revenge on a race of titans for the death of his mother. No one expected there to be a twisted, messed-up origin to the titan race where the main character is connected to everything! That’s all my messy thoughts coming out after witnessing the climax portion. As for the rest of you, Eren Yeager’s world is turned upside-down when the town he lived in is demolished by titans. As a result, the entire town is demolished and left for dead and Eren watched as his mother is eaten by a titan. Eren ends up joining the Survey Corps along with his friends Armin and Mikasa to take down titans and prevent another town to suffer the same fate as Eren’s home.

Going into this anime, I SERIOUSLY thought this was going to be a comedy. You would too if you were going off of all the memes that emerged in 2013. But this anime takes a sharp left turn when Eren discovers a horrifying secret involving his own body. After that, this lead to more unbelievable discoveries involving people we all initially thought was the supporting cast. And this is as cryptic as I can be without delving into severe spoilers. The only way to get my meaning is if you watch this series. It’s just…WOW!

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll, FUNimation, Hulu, & Toonami Some seasons are available for home video

11. Kill la Kill (2013-2014)

A girl with a giant pair of scissors picking a fight with the main bitch at school, all the while wearing a sailor suit that talks to you! That is the balls-to-the-wall insanity Studio Trigger gives you in a show like this. Ryuko Matoi enrolls in Honnouji Academy in search of the person who murdered her father. There, she comes face-to-face with the potential murderer, Satsuki Kiryuin. Satsuki rules over Honnouji as she has a special uniform capable of giving her super-human strength. But what Satsuki doesn’t know is that Ryuko is about to get a special uniform to give her that as well. A talking sailor uniform named Senketsu helps Ryuko in her journey of finding her father’s murderer. Yeah, this series goes all-out with the special powers brought on by certain clothing. Then again, it’s Japan and fanservice is a must in at least 75% of animes! I mean, there are moments where Senketsu gets skimpier on Ryuko, not leaving much to the imagination. As absurdly off the wall this anime was, I enjoyed every frame of it and it’s easily one of Studio Trigger’s best works.

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll & Netflix

10. Food Wars! Shokugeki no Soma (2015-2019)

You’d think with my picky-ass, I would have never watched an anime about cooking (and if my family is reading this, close this page now and play a wholesome game of shutting your gobs). But Food Wars never fails to increase my appetite. Yukihira Soma ends up in Japan’s most elite cooking school (with a 10% graduation rate) where he finds himself up against Japan’s and even the world’s greatest up and coming chefs. And every now and then, he ends up having to go up against one of these chefs in a cook-off known as a Shokugeki. If it wasn’t for the food orgasms, I would easily tell my cooking-show obsessed family members to watch this. I know no normal person would ever strip off all their clothes and have a raging orgasm when eating delicious food. But hey, it’s Japan! Gotta stick in fanservice somewhere! With inventive ways to spice up a regular dish, I may one day broaden my taste-buds into more exotic food-stuffs. Just, keep the peanut-butter squid away from me.

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll, HI-DIVE, Hulu, & Toonami Some seasons are available for home video

09. Your Lie in April (2014-2015)

Grab your tissues, children. We follow Kousei Arima as he regains his ability and passion for playing the piano with the thanks of new-found friend Kaori. What can I say about an anime that’s so beautifully animated with likeable characters and music to die for? OHHH…I shouldn’t have said that last thing! Yeah, the main character Kousei goes through quite a bit in his life dealing with the aftermath of his mother’s death and having to relive seeing someone he cares about die the same way. There’s just so much you wish would happen with these characters and watch as it’s dashed away during a Chopin piece. OHHH…I did it again! Well folks, if you’re into tear-bait and classical music, definitely watch Your Lie in April!

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll, Hulu, & Netflix

08. The Promised Neverland (2019)

One of the newest entries with one of the most shocking first episodes in recent history! I know in the past decade we got a lot of first episode hookers like Attack on Titan, but if you came in this blind-folded, get ready for a trip. We follow orphan children Emma, Ray, and Norman as they plan to escape their home before they become food for hungry demons. In a weird way, this anime is almost like the 2000 film Chicken Run. I know I’m not the first person to think that up, but yeah, gotta say it here. This was one of my favorite animes of this year and I was hooked week by week with what was going to happen next. It got so intense that immediately after the series ended, I picked up the manga to find out what happens next. And let me tell you, it gets more insane after the events of episode 12. But one thing that always astounded me was watching all of these kids plot an escape so elaborate when all of them range from ages 6-12.

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll, FUNimation, & Hulu

07. Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid (2017)

What would you do if you opened the door one morning and found a dragon standing outside? Not just that but what would you do if you were living with more than one dragon and you now find yourself hanging around other dragons?! Kobayashi’s world changes for the better as she meets a dragon (named Tohru) that loves her so much that she would happily become her maid. And given the stigma for eons between humans and dragons, this series we see cute interactions with humans and dragons. Up to a point that it feels like all these characters are becoming family! There’s a dragon named Fafnir who finds humans horrible people, but ends up changing for the better when he finds himself hanging with a human that plays video games and creates manga. But I’m always so drawn to the relationship of Tohru and Kobayashi. Kobayashi was never really close to her family and when she moved away she mostly spends her nights drinking alone. But once Tohru and Kanna move in, it’s always a fun day with their cute shenanigans. It’s definitely brought Kobayashi out of her shell and gave her a family of dragons to live with.

And there’s this cute little dragon named Kanna! She’s so cute and adorable! Look at her nom at just everything she eats. She’s so adorable! Who’s a cute wittle dragon? Yes you are! Yes you are!

As a final note in this particular entry, I want to mention one particular member of the staff. Yasuhiro Takemoto! This man was the director for Miss Kobayashi, as well as many other animes from Kyoto Animation and I feel the need to thank this man for all the hard work he had done. I’m thankful for all of your work in the anime community and we miss you.

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll & Funimation Available for home video

06. Pokemon XY (2013-2016)

It might be cheating a bit to put a Pokemon series on this list since they’ve been around since 1997. But it’s not a continuous shot like Detective Conan and One Piece, so I’m counting the XY arc for this list. Even though this series didn’t show me my favorite character and it gave me a shipping that’s worse than Herpes (with a cult for that ship that’s on par with MAGA), this was one of the best arcs to the Pokemon series. And I was excited for this series when it first came out because with the introduction of Mega Evolution, I was hoping for Ash to delve into that. While Ash wasn’t the one using Mega Evolutions, we did see him grow more through a synchronization method with Greninja that brought about so much in terms of battling. Just to name a few awesome moments with these two, he took down an iceburg pokemon, went toe-to-toe with a champion, and even made it all the way to the finals of the Pokemon League. Now did he win that league? That’s not important! What is important is that these were some of the best moments this series had to offer.

But it wasn’t just Ash we followed, but an anime-only character introduced named Alain as we followed his journey to becoming stronger through Mega Evolution. It felt risky following a different person for 5 or more episodes (without mentioning Ash), but it was all worth it when we came to the climax of the series when Team Flare came from the shadows. Listen guys, I know Pokemon has given some disappointing seasons before (especially the arc prior to XY), but if there’s any season you should watch, it’s definitely this one.

Also, Rica Matsumoto sings this one song called XYZ. I don’t know if you all have heard this song, but I think you should. It’s so bad ass and always pops up in some of Ash’s best battles in this series…in the Japanese version! I love it so much that I always feel the need to bring up XYZ whenever I talk about this arc.

Available to watch on: Disney XD, Hulu, & Pokemon TV Available for home video

05. Puella Magi Madoka Magica (2011)

I will always be a sucker for magical girl animes. Especially since Sailor Moon was the very first anime I watched fully! But Madoka Magica was…different and edgier. The premise is that a cute, white animal asks you to form a contract with it so you can become a magical girl. Magical girls defeat witches that cause havoc! Better read the fine-print on the contract ladies, because what the little rat doesn’t tell you is that you eventually become a witch yourself and will end up dying a horrible death, thus repeating the cycle. This anime would always leave me in a state of awe when watching it, whether it was the shocking deaths or the clever animation used when a witch emerges. But when you’ve got Shaft Studios animating this, expect some trippy moments. I think it’s because episode 3 was a big turning point that many of us were caught off guard by what happened and were scared of what happens next. Although thanks to Madoka, many other magical girl animes are following down the same path and trying to make it edgier. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I gotta say Madoka has definitely set the bar on edgy magical girl shows.

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll, FUNimation, & Hulu Available for home video

04. Violet Evergarden (2018)

Prior to this anime’s release, Kyoto Animation had a reputation for putting out anime that was geared to the “moe” genre. But with recent releases of A Silent Voice, Miss Kobayashi, and Violet Evergarden, their style has evolved into something I can’t describe in just one sentence. This anime is just beautiful to look at. The animation is just stunning, look at it. Now, I was a bit turned-off by the main character of this series, Violet. First of all, she literally looks like Saber from the Fate series and has arms that rival Ed Elric of FMA. Secondly, her almost robotic personality really turned me off. But it wasn’t until later in the series where we watch her interact with the people she was helping in each episode that made me truly appreciate what she’s doing.

Violet was once used as a tool for war and would always obey her commanding officer. But once the war was over, she found herself as an “Auto Memories Doll” where she’s writing letters people want to send to someone. Many of these episodes, we watch her see the world outside of the war and hell she was put through in her past. Her words were able to bring people together, heal two fighting nations, bring a family closer together, give closure to a grieving family member, and so much more. Add to that, this series gave out one of the most heart-breaking episodes I’ve ever watched in anime. It made me ugly-cry and that rarely happens! Not just me, but litereally everyone who ever watched this episode, but also Violet herself. This episode (that’s episode 10) was like the first time where she felt actual human emotions for anyone other than the person she once loved. This episode felt like a turning point in how I felt about Violet as well as the show in general.

I feel I have to say a little more on this entry. This anime is without a doubt, the most beautifully animated anime of this entire decade (despite what OTHERS have to say). And it couldn’t have gotten that way without the talented folks at Kyoto Animation. I can’t express enough how much I’m blown away by this series. Only now when I think about it, I get horribly depresssed due to the recent tragedy that struck KyoAni. Only now, do I appreciate all the hard work to put this masterpiece into action. And I wish it didn’t take me until a tragedy to watch this anime. But I’m glad I was able to watch Violet Evergarden. And I wish for you all to take the time to do the same!

Available to watch on: Netflix

03. Assassination Classroom (2015-2016)

Stand. Bow. Kill your sensei! Middle school students being trained by professional assassins to take down a yellow-tentacled monster (who is also their teacher)! These students must assassinate their teacher within one year, otherwise the world will blow up. Now I had my reservations watching a cast this big! I mean, we’re watching an entire 28-person class try to shoot their teacher. Thankfully, I didn’t grow to be annoyed by the concept like with Negima. I loved nearly all of the students and remembered many of them. One of the biggest drawing points with me is that, all of these students were seen as the ones to give up on. They were in the lowest-level class where school, family, and society have just given up on these children. Being in a much similar situation in middle school, I can relate. That’s why when I saw someone like Koro-sensei teach these kids so much more in the world of academics, it made me happy to see these kids have someone to look up to. Many of these episodes were fun to watch. Koro-sensei is a laugh-riot sometimes when the class has to do an activity together. Add to that, one of the hardest to watch goodbyes in recent history. For a good laugh and a good cry, Assassination Classroom is the way to go.

Available to watch on: FUNimation & Hulu Available for home video

02. Yuri on Ice!!! (2016)

AAAAAAHHHHHHH! *random screeching noises*

Why yes I love this series! It is so beautiful. I wish to see more of this in the future. I would like for Viktor to have Yuri’s babies. Don’t at me! I didn’t expect this series to give the female viewers an actual loving relationship between two of the main male characters. But halfway into the series, we get the kiss that cemented the deal. So besides the gay relationship, we’ve also got a beautiful soundtrack, animation that’s stunningly gorgeous, a story about an underdog working his way to receive a gold medal with the help of his hot, Russian coach…God, I just love this anime!

I’m a sucker for a root for the underdog story. And Yuri Katsuki definitely fits that description! Before Viktor came along, he was coming off of a humiliating defeat at a previous competition where he came in dead-last. But throughout the series, we watch Viktor mold Yuri into something audience members have overlooked in this boy. Viktor taught Yuri what love really is in more ways than one. But Yuri isn’t a total zero-to-hero in a span of 12 episodes, but at times he does come damn-near close. Every week, I’m amazed at how much Studio MAPPA put so much effort into this. While the quality did take a slight dip in some of the final episodes, so much has happened before that I’m willing to let that go. Watch Yuri attempt at making history with Yuri on Ice.

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll & FUNimation Available for home video

Before I get to my anime of the decade, how about I quickly do my TOP 10 ANIME MOVIES OF THE DECADE? No commentary, just announcing them quickly.

10. The Last: Naruto the Movie (2014)

09. When Marnie Was There (2014)

08. Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms (2018)

07. Dragon Ball Z: Battle of Gods (2013)

06. Kizumonogatari (2016-2017)

05. The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya (2010)

04. Pokemon: I Choose You (2017)

03. Your Name (2016)

02. A Silent Voice (2016)

01. Wolf Children (2012)

CLOSE CALLS FOR THE LISTS: Black Lagoon – Roberta’s Blood Trail, Sailor Moon Crystal, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, Fate/Zero & Fate/stay night: UBW, Angel Beats, The Wind Rises, Parasyte, One Punch Man, Aggretsuko, Steins;Gate, Inu x Boku SS, and Dragon Ball Super.

And now, #1…oh, you should already know what it is by now. One of my favorite animes came back with the vengeance in 2019 that no other anime can touch it. Rightfully so! You know it, I know it, let’s get it over with! So say it with me now, three, two, one…

01. Fruits Basket: 1st Season (2019)

Thank you! Just…thank you! In a time where I hate reboots, this one was handled with the utmost care. What can I say about this anime that everyone else hasn’t said already? This anime is like warm soup on a cold day. The nice pick-me-up when you had a shitty day on the job! That beautiful rainbow you see after a rain shower!

Coming upon a family with a terrible secret, there’s much hesitation on who (if any) can be let in without being hurt. Tohru Honda accidentally learned of the Sohma family secret, where if one of them is hugged by someone of the opposite sex, they’re turned into an animal from the Chimese Zodiac. These people have had to live with this stigma their entire lives. Because of this, relationships are put in turmoil, obtaining friends was damn-near impossible, and everyone has to be on a constant state of worry in case their secret comes out. But Tohru loves and accepts everyone, no matter what. In many of these episodes, we see Tohru reach out to the members of the Sohma family to tell them that she sees the good in them and that they are loved. To reach out to the hurt, silent tiger, Kisa! To reach out to the mentally-scarred rat, Yuki! To reach out to the heart-broken dragon, Hatori! And to give a hug to Momiji…when his momma won’t!

All of these individual stories always gets to me! Even re-told, these stories have improved 100%! And in some cases like Ritsu’s story, done better than the original! I watched the original story God-knows how many times! But with the remake, I found myself re-watching random episodes in my off-time when I should be watching something else. I always have to go back to watching everything from this series. From the good and the sad! From the ultra-laughable moments, to the jaw-dropping moments! In a time where many of us yearn to be accepted for who we are, an anime like this feels absolutely necessary. I know it might be biased of me to pick something from this year and cheating a bit considering at the beginning of the decade I was heavily into the original series. Regardless, this is still my pick for Best Anime of the 2010’s.

Available to watch on: Crunchyroll, FUNimation, & Hulu

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buns-with-a-book · 5 years ago

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Meeting Dante

It’s wahoo pizza man time. This Dante is post DMC3 but preDMC1, so he’s still that wild child we all know and love.

Towards the end, a waulking song is mentioned. To put it simply, it’s a Scottish Gaelic work song, primarily in the cleaning of wool. They’re simple songs meant to keep up the pace of tedious work.

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, OC Tags: @nimnox @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs

Summary: At eighteen, she was an unhappy bride. At nineteen, she’s a happier mercenary. Her life is just about to get crazy.

“Heh, happy birthday to me.” Cassandra hummed, kneeling down in the shadows of the balmy summer forest. Ever since she had left the walls of Eternis Brillia, she had relished the freedom she had. Of course, she still had to eat and drink and rest, which was why she took on the life of the mercenary and devil hunter. She couldn’t just lounge around in some nice apartment in Rothes or Edinburgh on the money she stole from Draco, a bully that she had been forced to marry. It would make her an easy target for anyone who was searching for her.

And so, she had bounced from city to city, following mercenary job and demonic extermination task as she went. Sometimes the money was good, other times it wasn’t, but she always had enough to find a room to stay for a few days. Whether it was a bed and breakfast or a hotel chain, she didn’t stay long in the towns of the Scottish highlands.

What surprised her most was not the close shaves with those who came from Eternis Brillia (although they did spook her) nor how well Astra cleaved into demons, but the blooming powers of her Crests, the pure magical power from the saint-like Maidens. No longer constrained by training rooms, the power fully showed itself in the field of combat. She remembered the first time the Crest of Saint Deirdre made itself known against a rather infuriating Pyrobat. What was just a gesture of anger became a blast of concentrated sunlight, making the flying demon scream and fall to the earth. It was rather pitiful blasts in Eternis Brillia, she had not expected such power when separated from her home. Perhaps it was the new environment that made it react in such a way? Or the fact that there were actual demons she was fighting instead of the clay disks she had been forced to fire at for exercises? She wasn’t so sure.

Of course, she had more than just mere offensive firepower. Healing was also at her fingertips, a gift from the Crest of Saint Julia. It made recovering from defeating demons easier. In the quiet of whatever room she managed to get, with a small meal before her, she would use the healing crest to close the wounds that the target demon left upon her. It was hardly a pleasant process, watching and feeling the wound close and heal, but it had to be done. A wound left to fester and infect would only slow her down.

This was her lifestyle, strolling through villages and towns across the highlands, looking for jobs and a place to rest, taking care of said jobs, and then leaving again. Hardly glamorous, sometimes jarring, and the homesickness she could do without, but it was her life. That was a feeling nothing in the world could buy.

Her mind returned to the ruins in front of her. Despite tonight being her nineteenth birthday, six months since she left the city, she never dared to look back. It would only hurt her. So she focused on the target she was supposed to be on the lookout for: Sin Scissors. They had been harassing some woodsmen, even taking lives, and needed to be dealt with before more were lost. The ruins, bathed in the light of the moon, before her were supposedly of some castle that collapsed from a fire. Local rumor dictated that a rich woman lived in the ruins, once a lovely mansion, before it was set ablaze by an unknown force. Some claimed accident, others proposed occult dealings gone awry, but the blaze still took the woman’s life and left the mansion into a barely recognizable husk. And after that, demons began to pop up. Some were easily dealt with when they came too close to the local village but others had to be dealt with from skilled demon hunters from afar.

Footsteps caught her attention, causing her to gasp softly. She remained still, watching as a man with white hair, a red two-tailed coat and...a lack of a shirt stride silently into the husk of the mansion. Cassandra made a face at that. Was he another mercenary? She never heard of him or anyone that was described with his appearance. He certainly looked a little older, twenty-two if she had to put a number on it. She slowly crept forward, keeping low to the ground. Pressing her body against the remains of the wall of the ruin, she kept low to the ground as she crept into the charred husk of a building.

Cassandra frowned at the ruins around her. Charred walls stood with great gaps in the wood, some from shattered windows, others from looters trying to smash into the building for treasure. Pilfered drawers hung open, their contents either stolen or thrown onto the floor. Chairs were tossed around, half-burned or in pieces. An eerie quiet reigned in the ruins, with the sound of footsteps and breathing all that broke the quiet. Cassandra trailed the other man, keeping her breathing even. Despite the fact that this place was home to a demon (along with the fact that it was dangerous!), this mercenary seemed unafraid of being here. She wondered who was really in danger; her, the mercenary, or this demon they were hunting.

“So, you wanna come out now?” The mercenary asked, talking to nobody. Cassandra wondered if he was talking to the demon or to her. She kept herself hidden, waiting for something, anything, to tell her who the mercenary was talking to. “Come on, I’m not gonna bite! I swear!” He laughed. She frowned. How was she going to know that?!

A sinister laugh caught her attention, it was right next to her ear. She quickly ducked, barely missing a pair of giant golden scissors. They snapped above her hair, Cassandra letting out a gasp, before she rolled away from the demon. The mercenary grinned and charged forward, jumping over her to slice at the Sin Scissors with a massive double-edged blade. Cassandra scrambled to her feet, letting out a huff.

“Oh hell no, I don’t think so!” She hissed. The Sin Scissor swung away from the mercenary, only to scream as Astra sliced into its back. It dove into the ground, disappearing to lick its wounds. Cassandra stared at the mercenary, breathing heavily.

“Heh...there you are.” He hoisted his sword over his shoulder.

“The hell are you?” She asked. He tsked.

“Hey, language little lady.”

“Don’t patronize me.” She snarled, standing up. “I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.” He held up a hand.

“Woooah, ok.” He took a step back. “Sorry.” A quiet fell between the two before he held out a hand. “The name’s Dante.” She stared at his hand before taking it to give it a shake.

“Cassandra. Never heard of you, never seen you around here before.” She looked at him. “And why are you without a shirt?” He looked down.

“Because I can.” He grinned. “And because I look good.”

“That’s the quickest way to get impaled by the Sin Scissors.” She took back her hand, ignoring his second comment. “I guess we’re working together then, you’re after the bounty too, right?” He nodded. She let out a sigh. “Alright, the more people who can take out this demon the better.”

“I mean, I guess.” Dante shrugged. “I work alone usually.”

“Well, not tonight.” Cassandra shot back. “I’m not leaving you to fight the Sin Scissors alone.”

“There’s more than just Sin Scissors here.” Dante corrected. Cassandra made a face. “There’s a bigger devil here. In the basement.”

“The hell you on about?” She huffed. “There’s only the Sin Scissors here, unless you know something I don-” Their arguing was interrupted by a near-deafeningly loud wail, one that shook the foundations of the very ruins they stood upon. Cassandra covered her ears, wincing from the sound. The scream ripped through the air before dying off.

“That would be the devil.” Dante said, a smug grin on his face. Cassandra glared at him.

“Oh can it. That’s a banshee.” Cassandra stepped away from Dante, only for the wood to crack underneath her feet. She leapt back with a yell, scrambling into Dante. After recovering from the scare, she looked up to the mercenary.

“On a completely unrelated note, is wearing a strap across your chest city-folk fashion?” Cassandra asked. “Because I really hope it’s just city-folk fashion.” Dante’s laugh made her roll her eyes. Helping herself up, she leaned over the edge of the hole. “Huh, a basement. I guess you were right.”

“Told ya.”

“Can it, Dante. We have a demon to kill.” Another scream ripped through the air, causing Cassandra to once again cover her ears. “ALRIGHT ALRIGHT FOR THE SAKE OF THE EARTHMOTHER WE’LL KILL YOU STOP SCREAMING!” She yelled back. She heard laughing behind her and snapped back, glaring at Dante. “I said can it!” She stood up before jumping through the hole.

“Hey, don’t just jump in there!” She heard Dante yell above her. She rolled to the side, watching as Dante landed next to her effortlessly. “Do you always jump into strange holes?” He hissed. Cassandra wordlessly took his head and made him face forward. Before them was a ghastly figure, body floating before them as if suspended in water. The edges of her hair were made of fire, as if the last moments of the figure were of burning alive. Her body was in a nightgown, charred at the edges. Floating aside her was the Sin Scissors they had been searching for, letting out soft ghostly chuckling.

“That’s our demon.” She said, standing up to get into position. She was about to make a comment but, as she looked over to Dante, she realized he somehow managed to summon what looked like a giant electric guitar. She stared at it before shaking her head. She’d ask later but now was the time to fight against the banshee.

“Let’s get this party started!”

“If it’s a show you want, then a show you shall have!” Cassandra summoned an orb of light, firing it at the weakened Sin Scissors. The demon screamed as sunlight burned it’s ethereal-like body, assaulted by (what looked like) electric bats. She would have to ask later, right now Dante looked like he was having the time of his life on the strange weapon (it had to be a weapon of some kind, why else was it doing what it was doing with an appearance like that?). While Dante was staying back, Cassandra closed the gap between her and the Sin Scissors, using Astra to quickly end the demon’s life. The Sin Scissors let out a rattling cry, it’s golden scissors clattering to the ground. Cassandra landed next to the scissors, quickly dodging a swipe from the banshee. She clamored away, putting distance between her and the banshee.

“That guitar thing of yours better have some real firepower, Dante!” Cassandra called. “Unless you plan to sit back and let me have all the glory!” Dante let out a dry laugh before she saw him make his way forward, the electric bats and soundwaves from the guitar assailing the banshee. Cassandra added onto that firepower with her own, firing orb after orb of sunlight into the banshee. The banshee let out a scream, an attempt to fight back, but the riffs and energy of the electric guitar overpowered the screaming. Cassandra was thankful for that, the electric guitar (dare she say it) was far more entertaining than a screaming demon.

“Wanna finish this with a bang?” Dante called over the riffs of the guitar.

“Let’s go!” Cassandra replied. Dante grinned and leapt into the air. Cassandra jumped up with him. She slashed into the banshee. From the corner of her eye, she saw the electric guitar transform into a scythe and slice into the demon. The banshee let out a final scream before collapsing. The two landed side by side, Dante pulling out a pair of semi-automatic pistols and firing at the corpse to ensure it was dead. Cassandra stared at the giant pair of golden scissors left behind, walking over to pick it up. Ignoring the pricks of pain from demon metal in her hands, she hoisted it over her shoulder.

“Now to head back to town, get the cash, and-”

“Deal with this thing.” She rolled her shoulders to emphasize the giant golden scissors on her shoulder. “This thing is worth more in scrap gold than being a weird weapon.” She swore she saw Dante’s eyes glimmer with interest. “Provided we can get it out of here.”

“I got it.” Dante said. Cassandra raised an eyebrow, watching the electric guitar disappear into a burst of electricity. She handed the scissors to Dante, who tossed them up with enough force to embed themselves into the ceiling of the room above them. She looked to Dante before he hoisted her up over his shoulder.

“HEY!” She yelped.

“I got cha, don’t worry!” He replied. He jumped into the air and then again with some strange magic, grabbing the edge of the gaping hole. Hoisting himself up, he laid her down onto the floor. She scrambled to a standing position. As Dante stood, the scissors fell from the roof to the floor, cutting the strap of his coat and sending him backward down into the hole. Cassandra gasped and scrambled over the edge, unable to catch him.

“Dante, are you ok?!” Cassandra yelled into the hole.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” She let out a snort at the reply she got. “I LIKED THIS COAT!”

“City folk and their fashion…” She sighed, moving back to give him the space he needed to get back up. He got out of the hole, scowling at the golden scissors laying on the floor. His gaze moved to the broken strap, his eyes changing to a forlorn look. Cassandra felt a little bad about the comment.

“Gonna need a new coat...dammit.”

“Look, if it’s that important to you, I can sew the strap back together.” She got up and walked over to the strap. “It’s a clean tear, that’s easy to fix.” She looked up, noticing the wide grin on his face. “What.”

“You know it’s rude to stare at a dude’s tits.” She made a face at his comment.

“I’m...sorry?” She had to restrain to add a ‘the hell you’re talking about?’ to her words. He blinked in surprise.

“What? You don’t know?”

“I’ve been in an isolated city that’s at least a few decades behind current trends, forgive me if I’m a little naive.” She looked back to the strap. “I think I’ve seen the thread in town…” She murmured. “Of course, the other option is just to have the strap removed entirely and made into something else but that means you have to wear a shirt.”

---

And that was how Cassandra had Dante in her room. The room of the bed and breakfast she was making her abode in was a small cozy room, sparsely decorated with wildflower vases on the bedside table. The garish golden scissors were leaning against the wall, the only place they’d rest until someone was found to sell off the massive golden scissors. Cassandra’s bag was laid out on the wool blankets of her bed, with Dante taking a seat in a chair that normally went into the small desk that was pressed against the wall. Above the desk was a window that overlooked the forest they were just in. His bare chest was pressed against the back of the chair, watching as she did her work sewing the strap back together. Cassandra murmured a waulking song as she worked, seemingly keeping Dante silent. With a few final stitches, Cassandra snipped the thread and put away the needle and thread in a small plastic case. She slid off the bed, holding the coat up to inspect the strap.

“Hey Dante, put this on.” She said, handing the coat to him. He got up from the chair.

“Should I be concerned about a needle left in there?” He joked. Cassandra rolled her eyes.

“Of course not. I’d never leave a needle in there.” She frowned. Dante shrugged and put on the coat. Once it was on, Cassandra inspected the stitching. “Give me a flex.”

“Oooh.” He said cheekily. Cassandra snorted. Her dismissal of his cheek earned her the flex she wanted.

“There we go. It’s not gonna rip apart anytime soon.”

“Thank you.” Dante grinned and sat back down in the chair. Cassandra cracked her knuckles. “So, what are you going to do?”

“Me? Uh, same old same old. Go up and down the Spes river, visit the towns and villages to seek jobs, and do them. I’ve never gone far from the Spes.” Cassandra looked out the window. “I really should out to leave the highlands but…” Her gaze moved upward. “I don’t really know where to go. There’s so many places I could go but all the options paralyze me. I can’t choose...so...”

“So you stay with what’s familiar.” Dante finished her train of thought.

“I do. What I should do is leave the highlands to somewhere, anywhere else but here. There’s people who don’t like that I’m out here, slaying demons.”

“Like what? Shitty ex-lovers?” Dante asked. Cassandra let out a short laugh, glancing down to her right hand.

“Something akin to that.” She mused.

“Heh, do I know all about that.” Dante leaned against the wall. A quiet fell between them for a few minutes. “So, how about coming with me to Red Grave City?”

“Red Grave City? To what, skewer me?” Cassandra asked skeptically. Dante laughed.

“Leave the skewering to me. I can handle it. But seriously.” Cassandra looked to him, seeing a seriousness she didn’t expect from the mercenary she had come (in their brief time together) to see as a carefree devil hunter. “I have a shop in the city, all about demon hunting. There’s always room for another hunter.” Cassandra nodded, thinking over his offer. Red Grave City must be beyond the highlands she was used too, which meant safety from Eternis Brillia.

“Happy birthday to me, I guess.” Cassandra hummed with a smile. “Sure, why not.”

“Wait, how old are you?”

“Nineteen today, why?” She looked at him. He just smiled.

“Well, happy birthday.” She wondered if there was something else to that that she didn’t quite know yet. But she decided not to worry about it. There were more pressing matters, such as how to get to Red Grave City, taking care of those gaudy golden demon scissors, and how in the Earthmother city folk fashion worked.

Although, taking one more look at Dante, she wondered if she would ever figure that last part out.

#devil may cry #devil may cry oc #devil may cry dante #dmc dante

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ittybittywaterlily · 6 years ago

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Moving Out

(YAY, my first fic! I tried my best and honestly, I think it turned out pretty good. So basically, when I see fics involving Borrowers leaving, I haven’t seen a single fic describe exactly what a Borrower does when they move to a different location. I don’t wanna take up most of your time reading my thoughts, so I’ll continue my little drabble in the tags. Enjoy!)

Your stubborn mind had finally decided that it was too unsafe to stay in the human’s house any longer. Actually, you were surprised you had managed to stay alive for this long. You had been seen almost a week ago, after all.

It all began when you were out on a borrowing session. It was just a regular Thursday night, which meant the human had gone to bed early, leaving the whole house to yourself for at least a couple of hours.

So far it had been going pretty well, since you managed to snag a whole packet of salt crackers. A whole packet of those things would barely be filling to a human, but for you? One cracker alone would be a whole meal! And even better, you didn’t have to worry about the human noticing, because they only touched plain snacks like this when there was absolutely nothing else available.

You were in the process of getting a paper towel (it worked wonders for spills, dirty dishes, messes in general, or if needed, cleaning up blood) then, and the moments that followed were clear in your mind: At long last, you managed to rip off the paper towel, and were well on your way home, thoughts of another successful borrowing in your head.

You would’ve been fine had the human bean not come downstairs for a glass of water. The two of you made eye contact for a full second before your mind screamed for you to book it.

Your legs moved as if they had a mind of their own, and everything felt like they were nothing but a blur as you ran. You finally, finally disappear from view after jumping down the space between the refrigerator and the wall. This all happened in the span of about five seconds.

The first thing you did wasn’t panicking. You released a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, and your hands released themselves from their viselike grip on your pack.

Your heart pounding behind the fridge, a million scenarios begin playing out in your head. Stuck in a jar, exterminated, or caught in a mouse trap, the possibilities were endless. But either you were always somewhat optimistic, or your mind was in a crazy state of denial that you were seen. Maybe the human bean would pass it off as a result of interrupted sleep (they had gotten up at an ungodly hour in human standards, after all) or something like that. Trick of the light, hallucinations, anything but actually being seen! But then again, they didn’t do anything to capture you, so you figured it was still somewhat safe, as long as you took more care in staying hidden.

But it definitely didn’t seem like it was safe now. Too conveniently placed pieces of cereal or bread on a napkin proved it. So did when human’s free time seemed to fall right on your usual borrowing hours on weekends. And just yesterday, you had a too-close call right where you had been seen that fateful night. They were desperate to get you.

This was bad. This was really, truly, definitely bad. If you stayed any longer, you’d most definitely be seen again sooner or later, your existence confirmed, and snap crackle pop, just like that, your days as a Borrower are over, for better or (more likely) worse. You had to leave.

But how?

This was something you had never had to do before. Your parents (rest their souls) never brought the subject up, in fear of jinxing all of your lives. So what did Borrowers have to do to make it seem like they’ve never been there?

You had to get rid of the furniture. That much was obvious. Most of your morning was spent breaking makeshift chairs in half, scattering your fabric pile (which was your sorry excuse for a bed), and the general disposing of evrything you couldn’t bring, that could give the human any hint of suspicion, like beads or “lost” playing cards, be it by tossing it out a window or returning it somewhere inconspicuous, so that they’d find it the next time they spring cleaned. By the time you were finished, you were tired and sweating despite the chilling December air, your lovely hideaway now resembling a mouse’s nest.

Next came the packing. Much to your disappointment, you had spent the last of your rations five minutes after demolishing your formerly cozy abode, meaning you wouldn’t have any food for the long trip to a new life, unless you got some on the way out. On the bright side, you didn’t have to bring as much stuff... but what stuff did you need to pack?

So you’d bring your grapple, of course, can’t go without that, and... of course you’d need your clothes and personal belongings, in the bag that goes... maybe it wouldn’t hurt to bring the “broken” pocket watch the human tossed out (it was really just out of batteries, how’d they not notice?!) and oh! The thimbles and bottle caps for cooking and eating, matches were a problem for another day, and... the broken scissors. For defense. And... that was it? Wow, you expected to bring much more. Well, the lesser the better, you figured.

And, taking one final glance at what you would be leaving behind, you exited your home for the last time.

You figured it was around three in the afternoon, because the human still hadn’t come back from work. Which was good. You needed all the time you could get. Your planned escape route was up on the counter, scale the wall, and out the kitchen window you’d go. The human always kept that window open a bit while they were at work.

Climbing the hand-and-footholds you had carved into the wooden back of the counter would be a challenge with your pack. But somehow, you manage to make it up with only three available limbs. You throw your pack of belongings onto the counter before hoisting yourself up. That took a little more energy than you expected, you think as you catch your breath. You decide it’s best if you tie your pack to your grapple if you want to save energy. Next would be to toss your curtain hook-and-thread equipment onto the windowsill, so you could climb.

After making it to the top, you pull your luggage up. Yeah, much easier this way. The last obstacle in your way was the window. You look outside, at the world so much bigger than anything you’d ever seen.

Out there were more dangers, more humans... maybe... maybe even more Borrowers like you.

It was a chance at a new beginning.

The feeling was... you don’t know how to describe it. Was it nervousness? Excitement? Or fear of the unknown? You were leaving behind everything you knew, after all. But you didn’t have much of a choice now, did you? It was a unspoken rule of people like you: If the humans know, you have to go.

Well, you couldn’t stay contemplating your desicion for the rest of the afternoon. The human bean would be home soon. With a final look at the place that had been your home, you push open the window and let yourself be introduced to the outdoor world.

#g/t #alright where was i #so I know that moving took up like a fourth of Arietty #but then the Clock’s house was partially destroyed by Haru if I remember correctly #so yeah #I might continue this #the lily writes

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dememarquette · 6 years ago

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Office Raid

I heard a knock on the door, flaring my temper. I'm not usually this impatient, it's just that time of the year. Tax Season. My primary line of work is in Greed. Meaning, I pitch businesses, get them started, and hand over the keys. I do accounting in the background, ensuring my clients maintain their wealth so they can enjoy it. That, unfortunately, includes managing their accounts. I know every tax break in the book. It's all a matter of playing Tetris with finances to keep them happy- for, say...hundreds of people. If not thousands. Because of this, everything between January to April is a nightmare. I have hateful quotas, and my free time is sank into inane questions like 'How can I claim my employees as dependents?' The batshit accounting of my multi-million dollar clients doesn't happen overnight. My schedule is clean of new patronage until April 12th, but lot of good it does when they still arrive at my door. I wanted to put up a sign, 'Come back in May.' "Come on in." I say instead. Julia would kill me if I turned down anyone, regardless if I was up to my eyeballs in W-2's and Form SS-4's. "But make it snappy." I said snappy- I know I did- but I think he heard 'blast my goddamn door open.' The seven foot panel blew off its hinges, sailing across the room at an flawless horizontal angle. I stared as it smacked against the wall, cracking the already-unstable structure. I gave the curious incident the benefit of doubt. This is Hell, after all. I couldn't jump to conclusions to accuse my guest- But the moment one armored boot stepped into the room, it became a safe assumption. The forth circle isn't known for its sturdy craftsmanship but he was still pleased with himself. He sauntered in like he'd receive an ovation. I did stand, but it was scantly out of reverence. "Hello." I said, at a loss. "Why don't you make yourself at home?" "Demetrius Marquette," He announced, standing grandiose just inside the entry way. Decked out in red and gold, the familiar uniform took such majestic inspiration from the Romans that it'd be impressive if it wasn’t set off by a swampy water cooler in the background. "I am Arodeus, and I have orders bestowed upon me by the 6th Choir to terminate you immediately." I don't know how one is normally supposed to oppose a declaration like that, so I did my best. "...Not guilty," I reasoned. "Of which part, exactly?" "...All of it." His head canted. One arm eminently held a thick document to his chest like he was here to strongarm a petition on climate change. "The dozens of counts of violating your celibacy vows? Sacrilege? Fraud? The hundreds of documented instances of simony during your time as a member of the clergy? And all of the Hellish transactions that succeeded it?" He posed. "All of that?" I considered carefully. Yeah. Checks out. "Hey, uh- listen. It sounds awful when you word it like that, but my application was fifty pages for a reason. By the way, who let you in-?" "Consider it rejected." With practiced dispassion, his wrist flicked. The ream of pages scattered across my office floor in a manner about half as cool as he pictured it. I recognized my giant letterhead anywhere. Alone, it presented a very large problem but in the category of 'will kill me now' versus 'will get me killed later,' the angel was in the former. "You know what?" I took a generous step backward. "Totally understood. Thanks for stopping by." "Not that easy." His wings snapped, and he shot across the floor. I had a split second's notice to move. That manifested as a genius two foot teleport to the side. His reflexes were faster. My tail was yanked a sharp pull to the left. All 200lbs of my weight was shifted off center, rocking my balance. I fell forward straight into his fist as he lobbed an uppercut at my ribs, working with gravity to double-team me. 'Fuck-' I folded as the air was forcibly vented from my lungs. Retaliating in that instant, I wrenched my elbow to his gut, but he was prepared. Agile, he suspended himself to take the force out of the blow. My hit simply guided him in the air of where he'd float next. I stumbled with his weight gone suddenly, while he touched ground for a graceful landing. "Did you even read it?!" "Oh I read it. We all did." "It wasn't your mail!" "No-" He pondered. "No it wasn't. Not until your name was flagged as a repeat offender. At which point, yeah. It was ours. Good read though." "Thanks?" I combusted to appear at his side. I learned that the hard way what his answer to that was. My hand connected, and if I had taken Tak's punching class I was sure it would have cracked. The moment he lost sight of me for the barest of seconds he threw up a shield. My knuckles skinned where it graze off the surface. I had no time to re-evaluate before the wall disappeared, priming him to deliver another kick. This one rocketed me into my bookshelves. They tipped, threatening to crush me with the likes of the Intradimensional Exchange Rates and the Necroeconomicon, but held steady. Arodeus was already closing in for a second round, but I could already feel the air tense for a second shield. Knowing better than to go on the offense close range, I lifted my hand to fake out a hook. It worked, long enough for him to to summon a defense just for me to spark a fire inside it. It flared bright, a globe of flames that ignited him like a goddamn lava lamp. He howled out a sharp note of agony before it popped. The blaze released, and the forcefield burst in a wave of Holy heat. His wings flared wide, putting out the unassuming fires in one pump of his wings. His feathers were left dusted with ash, frayed so thin it looked like he hadn't used conditioner in two years. Still, even if he looked like a BP oil spill duckling, he was more humored by my counter than threatened. As someone who was actually proud of that maneuver, that was actually very concerning. I threw my hands up, making it clear I never intended to cause the damage I didn't actually reap. "Listen guy, I don't want to fight!" "Ah, great! You don't have to!" He grabbed my client chair. I reared back into the wall behind my desk. A moment too late I realized that it happened to be against the most priceless fixture of my office. I couldn't tell if it was out of spite or sudden inspiration, but he held the chair over his head. My eyes widened- "NO! No! N-NOT-" And hurled it into the glass. "-the fish tank!" I cried. "You ASShole!" A torrent jetted from the top, breaching my office with an aggravated geyser of mineral treated water and glass. Katy perry's Last Friday Night sputtered into distorted gargling as the damage claimed everything. The atmosphere of Hell turned my desk into a grill; my gobies and angelfish fried instantly. The rest erupted into a veil of steam, obscuring me long enough to crawl under my desk. I yanked open the drawer, hand blindingly reaching for anything of use. Scissors, letter opener- I'll take a Montblanc if it meant not being defenseless. The angel rounded the corner, tearing shit up as he passed. He couldn't see clearly so anything vaguely smart and stylish was destroyed in his warpath. My lamp shattered against the wall, and my accent table overturned, with my artisanly selected selfies lost to the destruction. I very much doubt his memo for my extermination today included office renovation. He was being a dick, and my neighbors on either side were complacent jackasses too. They throw a fit if Lady Gaga was belting it too hard but you bet my asskicking was music to their ears. And because my intuition stops short of fisticuffs, he found me too soon. Cornered, I blasted him in the face. The inferno lasted all of two seconds as the shower behind him put it out and doused me in turn. He reeled back, leaving my hand to fizzle out in a thin line of smoke. "Shit-!" Arodeus drew a reedy breath through his teeth. He cradled his face, one palm to a shiny, fleshy cheek. It healed in a glow of white, alighting the skin until there was no trace of trauma at all. His grimace of pain turned into a cheerful 'ta-da,' showmanship for my benefit. I hadn't ruined even one of his perfect eyebrows. On my very short list of lines of defense, that was it. "Oh come on!" I angled to take a shot at his kneecaps but he got me first. One kick to the spine of my seat, and he tipped it on its wheels. It bashed into me one, two, three times in rapid succession. Defending myself meant getting a hand caught in the metal bars and slammed into my face. The collateral damage from my elbows alone drew blood. I was crushed up against the wall of my desk like a 1980's nuculear drill. An attempt for freedom put me in the perfect spot for a forth blow knocked my knee into my jaw. I slid to the ground, favoring my side. My world blurred- a smear of reds and oranges- as he snagged my collar, and fished me out to the open to be salt-waterboarded. "You do realize I'm just an accountant right?" I croaked. A stream was still cascading over the jagged glass, spilling directly onto my face and the nape of his neck. His charred wings were being weighed down, but he made up for it in the delighted posture of a man about to finish the job. Borrowing his words, it would not be that easy. "389 hostage souls say differently." "What? Hostage-?!" I squinted through the burn. "They're not hostages. They're legally attained!" "Gee, I hope you kept the receipts." (For the record: I did, but he wasn't here for semantics.) The heat of a holy fist charging up was unmistakable. My vision was still flickering through static but his power presented itself as a flare of white in my retinas that'd be debilitating had I not had protection. Just before the hit would land, I was reminded of a prior engagement. My office phone beeped- the antiquated hunk of plastic, too ancient and powerful to be bothered by the sizzling fish carcasses and water damage. "Mr.Marquette, your 2PM?" "Yeah!" My head lolled. "Send them in!" My attacker snapped toward the door, and I disappeared under his weight. - - - Cross-planar, and thousands of miles away, I hit the sidewalk in a limp. I had moved without thinking, landing in a pleasant suburb bathed in spring's afternoon sunlight. It served as a delightful contrast to how I was feeling- which was shit. I was screwed. I was so fucked. If the angel was worth his salt, I'd be tracked right after he dealt with whoever walked into my office, no matter what corner of the globe I popped to. I was running on borrowed time, and with all my options exhausted, I turned to my phone. My contact list spun like a rotary. Demon, demon, demon- Why am I friends with so many demons? The thought was counter-intuitive to me before 2013, now they made up half my friendslist and are completely useless in the face of celestial opposition. I slumped against a tree as I searched for alternatives. I recognized the neighborhood as upstate Washington, a personal spot for me. It shouldn't be the first go-to in an emergency, but I was concussed and apparently craving foie gras. Down the block, surrounded by a beautiful lot of imported cars, Chez Tzaz stood tall. No other spots were coming to my bruised brain when I needed them most. But it was as safe of a spot as any when it came down to it. At least there I had a bouncer. Not only that, but it sparked a sudden moment of clarity. I jerked the scrollbar back up to the top. Adria. I shot off a text. It was unfortunately less than polite. [2:03 PM] do u mind calling rock me amadeus off my back!! Her response was instantaneous. [2:03 PM] WHAT?? WHO?? [2:03 PM] the angel sent to my office!! said he was there to kill me?? i thought you said you'd warn me!! [2:04 PM] ARE YOU SERIOUS?? WHERE ARE YOU?? I twitched my thumbs volley a text back but arguing in the distance caught my attention. Someone without a reservation had made it to the door and was causing a scene. Sure, I was still seeing stars, but it was hard to miss the glaring refraction of light off their heels. That damn uniform again. My heart fell to the pit of my stomach. [2:05 PM] they are at my restaurant too??? That has to mean my apartment has already been raided. And my vacation home. And who knows what else. I'm not modest with my brand. Anything that has my involvement is emblazoned with my logo- I've plastered it everywhere I could make my mark because nuance isn't my strong suit. The unsaid consequences of this made my head pound. [2:06 PM] IF YOU ARE CLOSE ENOUGH TO SEE THEM, YOU ARE CLOSE ENOUGH FOR THEM TO SENSE YOU. GET. OUT OF THERE. I wanted to. I truly did. But all of the locations I could visualize in my mind belonged to that of other demons. Archer's apartment just thirty minutes away, Niko's office who already suffered a remodeling this year, my favorite cafe- I didn't want to drag my trouble to them. Especially not when it was looking inevitable. Meanwhile, in the distance my dutiful hostess was patiently and condescendingly explaining the dress code policy just like I taught her (armor is NOT formal-wear post the 1700's, please see the handbook). The distraught angel launched into full riposte about her obstruction of justice, so much so that I ignored my phone for ten whole seconds. By then, Adria already had an essay, surmised with a frantic, 'What are you going to do? I'm serious, where are you?' rephrased a spectacular three different ways with various usage of caps lock. [2:08 PM] im at chez tzaz. washington [2:08 PM] WHAT? WHY? WHY ARE YOU STILL THERE? [2:08 PM] why are THEY here??? The text bubble popped. The three ellipses disappeared with her abandoned thought, and I was left on read. I couldn't tell if it was a bust. Not until I heard the timely flapping of wings behind me, noticeably less toasty than Mr.Arodeus. The sound should have made me panic, but I had no doubt who it was. "What did I say? Are you an idiot?!" She hissed. As a cordial 'hello,' she shoved me into a tree. "Go!" "Ow?!" "You can 'ow' when you're safe!!" "Well?? Where do you want me to go, huh? They can find me!" I thought about jumping to whatever I could think of. Maybe to the first thing Google maps would suggest, but for it to work I had to seriously think about my location before going. At that moment, I wasn't sure if it was possible. It felt like my mind was jumbled to the point where if I tried again, I'd end up in the exact same spot. Did I also mention I felt safer by her? Because that too. She combed her bangs back, stressing as she craned around me and the tree to view the angel at the door. Looking between the two of them, they matched. How narrow was the chance that she'd be on my execution team? "Friend of yours?" "I told you to stop pushing it! They definitely have a kill order on you now." "What fantastic information that would have been earlier." "I. TOLD. YOU!" She shot back, barely restrained. Scratch that- her voice was kept low so she had dibs on killing me first. "I told you this would happen! You have friends right? Go to them!" "And endanger them too?" "Go to someone, I don't know, capable!" "You?" "Not me!! I have to deal with this." My hostess was now calling security. And in the face of one haughty college student, the angel apparently felt the need to as well. Now there was two of them, and the arrival of the second seemed to register on Adria's radar. She turned around at the same time- -And looked like she was about to blow a gasket. "Oh my God- you need to go NOW." "And what are you going to do?" "This isn't about me Mr.Sends-My-Lifestory-to-the-people-who-want-to-murder-me! LEAVE! Now!!" "I can't-" "NO! No more talking! LEAVE!" I couldn't argue any more. Our bickering caused two heads across the way to snap up. She gave me one final, violent shove, and I disappeared to the last place muscle memory remembered her pissed at me. The cowboy strip club was a start. - - - Six hours later, I was across the United States and checked into a motel. After my headache faded, I broke up my trail into pieces, ranging from teleports, taxis, and one distressing trip aboard public transport. Under the assumption that no angel would dare subject themselves to the general populace on such intimate terms (see: wedged between the lunch rush and earlybird boozers), I felt safe. Adria did not. "This is my fault." She said, for a third time, pacing the floor. I looked up from the pages of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine, spoon in mouth. The first time we had this conversation, I was covertly panicked. By the second, I wore myself out. And by the third? I have more productive things to talk about. "I knew it was a bad idea. I knew they were doing raids-" "Do you always do this?" It couldn't just be me noticing it, that there was something egregiously wrong with this picture. She was an angel- a Power, a soldier of Heaven's prestigious battalion- worrying this hard over a demon she met two months ago. Don't get me wrong. I get it, I'm charming, I'm suave, and maybe in the right light my atoning adds a tragic depth to my character that may drive the angels wild- But I was still just that. A player on the opposite team, who made a huge mistake that got me booked in the first motel who'd take cash instead of card, until I was sure I wasn't being followed and I looked presentable enough to see my friends again. And she was here with me, inexplicably, trying to make my screw-ups her own. Why? I had no idea. "Do what?" "Overthink." "This is not overthinking!" She said, denial in gusto. I began worrying a lot less when her catastrophic thinking began siphoning all the energy in the room. That left her fretting on her own, while I examined Martha Stewart's upcoming Spring line. I much preferred being told how to pick the perfect counter-top than conduct my own life. "I should have been the adult. I shouldn't have sent the letter knowing what was going on upstairs." I snorted, flipping a page idly. "Don't take credit for my plan." "I'm not taking credit, I'm taking responsibility!" "And why would you do a thing like that?" She rolled her eyes. "What are you going to do now? Tell me." "Easy. I get Dr.Nikolai to write me a doctor's note." "Really?" She stopped, sudden. Her tensely folded arms fell loose. Taken off-step of our normal rhythm, I almost didn't have the heart to issue a reality check. She caught up to me in the next beat though, defeated with a heavy sigh. "Aren't you afraid..?" "Yes and no." I shrugged. "I need this to wrap up. I already miss my shower and my kitchen, I mean look at that-" I waved a hand at the sad, sad kitchenette through the door. One half-wall was fencing it off from the living room. It sounds trendy in theory, but the execution here had bar stools doubling as coffee tables, and the bite-size microwave trying to hop the border. The whole layout was claustrophobic, and pretending that this was the biggest of my problems worked for me. Not her. She plunged onto the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. Her bangs fell over her eyes in a tousled mess that matched her fringing braid. My busted up face didn't hold a candle- looking at the two of us, you would have thought her life was the one turned upside down. "You aren't taking this seriously." "I'm taking it seriously, Adria. Are you just trying to admit you are afraid?" "Yeah! Yeah, I am actually! It's like every time I try to help I only make things worse!" "Well that's funny because I refuse to do anything but believe you helped me." I shut the magazine, scooting to her side, with Ben & Jerry's in tow. "I wanted my name up there. Guess what? Now it's there. What's a little clout?" "Clout," She spurned, tired. "Would you call what he did to your face clout too?" Her hand delicately lifted to assess the damage but I ducked away. Not today, ma'am. I shifted my shades like it'd cover the bruise bleeding down into my cheek bone. It wasn't the worst of it. I imagined my chest to be a blotchy bovine pattern by now, but I sensed her concern for what it was: another way for her to feel worse about herself. Another way to be a failure. "No touching." "Yeah, well. Here's the rest of your things." She tossed me a bag. They were necessities I requested. The woman had yet to get herself an iPhone but had no problem grabbing my shopping list of moisturizers and specific detergents. The Green Giant wasn't on my list (it was her own addition to my list of demands, which she loving refereed to as 'shit you ACTUALLY need') but she grabbed that. Punching the bag into submission seemed to give her reprieve when just saying she helped didn't. I watched her pulverize the frozen vegetables, under the guise of breaking them up for me, until it was just sad and vaguely terrifying. The Quick And Easy Dinnertime Medley didn't deserve this, nor did she. Something bad was going on in that head of hers- guilt. I didn't understand it, but I know I didn't need to because it was ridiculous to begin with. "Hey. Heeeey," I leaned into her shoulder. "I don't know why you're so broken up about this but it's fine. I'm the one who should be worrying right?" "But you're NOT. I am! And I can't help it, okay." "You helped me, alright? You did," I rescued the bag, putting it against my sore ribs like she originally intended. "You did something for me no one else could. And for some reason that wasn't enough, and now you're here!" "Yes." She admitted, biting her lip. "Doing nothing." "Nope- nope. You're leaving out the cool part. You're here breaking three heavenly laws in the process." "Definitely." "Like a rebel. Like a spy. And my hero~" "And getting you putted on a most wanted list by mail, and delivering frozen peas? They should make me a saint, too." "Yup. Saint Kyriakoloupoulos, Patron of unconventional assistance." I said, mocking prayer. "And fists. If only I invoked you then." You could tell she wanted to answer something else melodramatic and guilt ridden, but her gaze fell to my hands.

The beginnings of a smile tried to set in, trickling in through the recesses of her totalitarian 'No Fun Allowed' conscious. "...Did you even get a hit in?" I grinned, quickly concealing my bare knuckles behind my back. The worst of it was healed to superficial scrapes, which regrettably looked a lot less cool when trying to impress a girl with non-existent fighting prowess. "Depends. Are you rooting for my side?" I pretended like I wasn't expecting a specific response. That the wrong one wouldn't disappoint me, and that this bag of groceries may be the last piece of divine intervention I get out of this woman who already followed me down to the strip clubs of 2nd, and was now tagging along my fugitive romp across America. But she didn't. She pulled her legs up onto the bed, trying to mull over my question as if the answer wasn't clear on her face. She always was a bad liar. "Maybe." "Thought so. Ice cream?"

#office raid #towns #adria #story

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