#he has the decency to be aware he's done some seriously fucked up things under the guise of someones command
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GLOAMING
Inc: Knight of Dawn, Lilia, Meleanor, Malleus mention, Silver mention, Leah mention Warnings: Heavier topic, obviously, considering the circumstances of KoD and BV's backgrounds. Mentions of blood, death, and genocide-related actions. WC: 1.5k Summary: Gloaming: Twilight; Dusk. [promptober]
The Knight doesn’t recall too much of his life before he was found. He doesn’t know who his parents were, nor how they fell on the good side of the fae to begin with, nor does he recall how he survived to the point in time where the king took him in. Perhaps that was an additional blessing by his guardians—the stubborn inability to fall victim to life’s poor toss-ups. After all, how else does an orphan starving on the filthy streets of a village end up under the wing of that nation's monarch? No one is that lucky without some sort of external acting force.
Still, the old king was a kind man. A father that never gave his adopted son a name and rather just referred to him as his ‘Knight’, which quickly turned to ‘Knight of Dawn’—originally said in mockery by others, but soon to be uttered in reverence through trial and tribulation. Dawn was beautiful and sounded far more so without the term ‘knight of’ before it, especially when such a name comes to be associated with so much pain.
No country wants a war, really—just the people who rule them. The costs are far greater than the benefits and the amount of blood that’s spilt for a mere few kilometres of land is never worth it. Besides, these kilometres are more often than not lost in the next scuffle, which makes all those bodies and broken families even less agreeable. The old king never wanted conflict, even when he fell ill with the Grieves and his body became a limpid, pungent husk swathed in royal robes. If a country denied him a cure then he would rather choose to die with dignity then drag his denizens and his name through mud.
Heinrich was not the old king. The crown prince who fancied himself a god was as arrogant and as entitled as one would expect a silver-spooned infant to be—not that the Knight would speak it out loud. He enjoyed dangling oaths like swords of Damocles, bending people to his whims and then discarding them once they stopped being so pliant.
Childish. Always had been. Just a boy playing dress up as a prince.
She, however, was not. He was nameless and faceless beneath a mask until she had taken him into her heart and given him what he missed. A face, a name, a purpose beyond paying off a debt he never asked to get and was far too young to understand.
“You are more,” she would whisper in his ear as he lost himself in her embrace, trying to find a few moments of sanctuary before he’s pulled to the front lines once more. Leah had evolved from someone he swore to protect by obligation to someone he would protect even if it meant rendering himself to ashes. In her presence he found himself able to think clearly, to know that the actions he was compliant with were wrong on so many levels. Their relationship was forbidden but the risk of it all made the moments more tantalizing then the most divine of nectars.
But Leah could only shield him for so long, just as he could only do so with her.
He doesn’t know how many he fell by his sword. He stopped counting at some point and merely began to act by mechanical response. Faces stopped having features to him and bodies stopped having names. His mind began to regress in itself until he was nothing more than a Golem serving as an extension of his lord's will. He rendered families to nothing, annihilated bloodlines, and almost took down a dynasty while he’s at it. He wanted to stop but he could never bring himself to speak his defiance’s out loud.
Coward. Always had been. Just a boy playing dress up as a hero.
The only thing that snapped him of his reverie in these dark hours was the egg. It was unexcitable as it was clutched in the arms of its mother’s closest companion, who stared at him with red eyes that held as much exhaustion as he felt, but the Knight knew of its worth.
Tired. They’re both so goddamn tired. Divided by race, divided by loyalty, but united in this very breath by a singular emotion that they shared.
“You…” he rasped out, his body aching from the collapse he was subject to, his throat raw with dust and debris. The General tensed and seemed prepared for a fight as he clutched the egg tighter. He will die for this baby, the Knight realized. He’ll let his blood stain the ground before a single scale is broken on that shell, and he’ll rip the world apart while he’s at it. The egg was about to be an orphan—its father was already dead, and he was in the process of killing its mother. Another family razed; another bloodline annihilated.
He took a sharp breath as they stared at each other for a moment more before his mind settled on a decision and he uttered a single word: “Go.”
There was only a split second of hesitation in the General’s eyes before he was running, and running, and the Knight hoped that he ran faster than he ever had before because he was all that little egg would have left once this is done.
No one is that lucky without some sort of external acting force.
He spat blood on the ground to grant the starving soil an offering before he raised his sword once again.
____________________________
When the gloaming comes, the Knight is not surprised. Dawn will always end one way or another. People can claim to be the best, but it only takes so long before someone better sets them right.
Heinrich was dead—and good riddance to that. It had taken enough of his self-control not to tarnish the man's grave the moment he was finally set in the ground. He had only lasted for a mere ten years before the other nations grew as hungry as he had been and decided he was prepped for a feast. They wanted mines, railways, and resources, and Heinrich was simply not as strong as the Draconia family had been when it came to keeping dogs away.
Leah was gone, too—not dead, but he had sent her to the castle in the hopes that the stone walls would offer her some safety. He was not a man of faith, but he had selfishly prayed to the creator of that palace to take mercy on his wife, not for their sake, but for the baby that she cared for. Meleanor had been a mother like Leah and all he could hope is that she’d understand.
He’s all that’s left of a bloody reign, and he feels it’s far overdue to put it to bed. He doesn’t want his son to grow up with a legacy of misery tied to his name. He doesn’t want his son to be looked at with fear, or resentment, because of the actions his cowardly father committed. All the Knight wishes for is for Leah and their baby to be free, to be loved, to be as far away from Briar Valley as they can possibly be because he has tarnished this place and there is no forgiveness left to give. Not that he deserved any.
When the sword pierces his chest, it’s a poetic irony. He wagers that him being killed in this manner is Meleanor’s revenge, and she’s only having someone else do it because her son has yet to be welcomed to this world.
Good for her.
The Knight falls to his knees and looks up at the faceless visage of the one who finally bested him. Blood is seeping down his armour and turning it from blessed silver to the colour of a violent dusk. He remembers hearing once that your life will flash before your eyes the moment you’re about to die, but instead of his life, a thousand thoughts appear.
He thinks of the egg that he’s orphaned and the parents that he took away. He thinks of the burning trees he bore witness too, the empty mines he walked through, and the poisoned lakes that were the result of their machines. He thinks of the many faceless bodies and the many forgotten names that were a direct result of his actions. A thousand years of reparations would do little to heal the wounds that he carved into this land because he could not bring himself to say ‘no’ to one man’s orders.
When the sword is wrenched free, he thinks of Leah, and how sorry he is to put her in this position.
When his vision goes black, he thinks of the king, and how he wishes the man never took him in to begin with.
When he finally goes numb, he thinks of his son, and how all he can do is hope that he turns out to be a better man than his father ever was.
#knight of dawn#twst knight of dawn#twst dawn knight#twst fic#lilia vanrouge#eeeee this one was harder to write#i went with the approach where his actions are not excusable and he knows this#he has the decency to be aware he's done some seriously fucked up things under the guise of someones command#also this has heinrich slander bc fuck that guy fr lmao#promptober
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brother, i will hear you call
read on ao3
Summary: Roman's not having a great time. Remus sympathizes.
Warnings: Light swearing
This is for @nadiestar / @mimssides
Remus knocked lightly on the door separating his room from Roman’s.
“Ro? You okay?”
He heard something muffled, but nothing more. He knocked again.
“Roman, can you unlock the door?”
Nothing.
“Please?”
Remus heard the click of the lock unlatching. He twisted the knob and slowly, oh, so slowly, pushed the door open and took a few steps inside.
Roman’s room was a wreck. Not as much as Remus’s, but still a lot less orderly and pristine than he usually kept it. Papers were strewn about every which way, crumpled and crushed and shredded to pieces, pens and pencils and markers were scattered across the floor like confetti, paints and inks splattered over everything in sight. Remus would have been impressed, if he wasn’t so worried.
Roman was the “good twin”, or so he insisted. Remus didn’t really care who was what as long as shit got done and he was free to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Truth be told, he thought Roman could use a little more freedom and chaos in his life. But seeing this? Seeing all of his brother’s hard work, his passion and drive, his imagination and creativity, destroyed by his own two hands? Roman didn’t do this.
Remus finally looked at Roman, or at least, Roman’s huddled form curled up under a pile of blankets in the middle of his bed. Remus let out a sympathetic sigh.
“That bad, huh?”
The blanket pile moved, curling in tighter and letting out a sniffle. Remus plodded over to the bed and sat on the edge, feeling it sink down a little. He stared at Roman’s obscured form, then flopped over onto his back.
Things were quiet for a minute. Then Remus heard movement, and turned to see Roman’s face peeking out, red-eyed and tear-stained, hair mussed and sticking up in places.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Roman sighed, pulling his blanket closer. “It’s stupid.”
���A lot of shit is stupid. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”
Roman was quiet. Then he said, barely audible, “I just...”
Remus pushed himself onto his side to face him, propping himself up with his hand.
“I just feel like nothing I do is worth the effort. That no matter how hard I try or how many times, I’m doomed to fail.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Roman gave him an incredulous look. “What’s- what’s wrong with it? I don’t want to fail! I don’t want to-” He slumped over again, pulling the blanket back over his head. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
"Who's disappointed?"
Roman looked away, eyes filling up with more tears. "Everyone."
Remus waited, only slightly raising a doubtful eyebrow.
"It's true! Nothing I do is good enough! Not for Logan, not for Patton, not even Virgil!" Roman sniffed. "Thomas deserves better."
"Nah, I don't buy it."
Roman blinked at him.
"Has anyone told you they hate your work?"
Roman shook his head.
"Then why would you assume they do?"
"Because it's not good enough."
"Yeah, so?"
"Wha- You- I-!" Roman curled up tighter. "You don't understand," he says, muffled by the fabric.
"Really? I don't understand? Me, Remus, the Duke, Dark Creativity and Intrusive Thoughts? Buddy, my whole existence wasn't good enough for Thomas."
Roman had the decency to look a little ashamed at that. But shaming his upset brother wasn't what Remus meant to do. He sighed and tried again.
"Look, Bro, I am well aware that my ideas might never win any prizes, but I still fucking have them. It's the act, see? I have an idea, and I can't stop thinking about it until I get it out of my head. And yeah, sometimes it's a fuckin' shitty idea but it's still mine. And sometimes making the shitty thing gives me more, less-shitty ideas, or it turns out better than I thought it would, or people might actually like it!" Remus sighed. "And then sometimes it's just a shit idea, with a shit execution, and you feel like shit for ever thinking you could do anything worthwhile."
Roman was staring sadly at him, his face a little warped from the tears collecting in Remus's own eyes. He tried to blink them away unsuccessfully.
"Like, I get it, okay? Sometimes you hate everything you make, and you just don't wanna do anything anymore because everything sucks."
Roman had loosened his grip on his blankets, which had fallen halfway down his shoulders and started pooling around him on the bed.
"My point is, shit sucks all the time. So what're you gonna do about it? Sit around and mope, sure, valid, cry your heart out. But at some point you have to do something. Get the feelings out, where they can’t keep taunting you. Even if you have to do it by breaking shit," Remus said as he gestured to the rest of the room. “Or like, if you wanted to talk, or vent, or scream at someone... I can take it, y’know. I’m not fragile or anything."
His brother was staring at him, eyes wide, brow creased, mouth hanging open. Remus wasn’t sure how to read that.
“I mean, it’s up to you, but I’m here for you or whatever. Just-”
Roman launched himself from his position to wrap his arms around his brother in a crushing embrace. Remus froze, unsure how to respond, then hugged his brother back, squeezing just as tightly.
"Thank you," Roman whispered. Remus rubbed his back and buried his face into his brother's shoulder, sniffling as he pretended not to cry.
"I know I'm not the best at this comforting shit. But it kinda helps to know you're not alone, I guess? We might not get along all the time but we're still in this together. Even if I am the 'evil twin'."
They stayed like that for a while, hugging each other, until Roman let go. He didn't rush to put distance between them, content to sit beside his brother, one hand settled on the Duke's shoulder.
"You're not evil, Ree."
Remus rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Bitch, if I ever hear you say that again, I'm disowning you and no one will ever find your body."
"That's not what 'disown' means."
"Yeah, I know, but I'm still gonna do it."
Roman gave a soft laugh. Remus smiled.
"By the way, I love what you've done with the place. Redecorating?"
Roman sighed heavily. "I suppose all this was a bit dramatic."
Remus slipped off the bed and picked up a couple of pens and markers, making a show of examining them before snapping them back onto the desk and picking up more, saying, "No shit, but seriously, it looks great! Nice balance of color, good spread of clutter; it really takes practice to make a good mess."
"You're a mess." Roman finally joined him, picking up scraps of paper on the floor near the bed.
"At least I'm a good-looking mess. Unlike someone I know."
"You take that back!" Remus ducked to avoid the newly-restored sketchbook Roman threw at him.
They continued like that, bickering as they cleaned, until the room was, well, not spotless, but much less of an artistic war zone.
Roman took a deep breath, as if the act of clearing up his room had also purified the air. He seemed lighter, and a little bit more himself. He gave Remus a disgustingly grateful look.
"Hey. Thanks, Ree."
"Gratitude? Gross. Hey, you wanna go fight the Dragon Witch again?"
"Gladly."
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UD/MoM: Of Mummy Men & Bathtub Soup - 4
Chapter: 4/? Chapter title: (Spooky scary) skeletons in the closet Fic rating: T - Language, blood, light comedic body horror Chapter summary: Conrad says WAY too much. Author’s note: Reminder - this is also on AO3, where the texting actually looks like, uh…texting! Previous | Next ---
“You did.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did, and the more you say you didn’t, the more I’m convinced that you did!”
Drumming his fingers against the unpleasantly sticky surface of the apartment’s coffee table, Conrad exhaled an exhausted breath through his nose. “I’m a grown-ass adult who is perfectly aware of his bodily functions and I am telling you asshats that I know for a fact I did not piss myself.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much…” Hartley snickered, reaching over to meet Wash’s hand in a high-five.
Thirty minutes. He’d been in their grimy apartment for thirty fucking minutes and this had been the sum total of conversation: Ha ha ha, hee hee hee, isn’t it so funny how we almost gave Conrad a heart attack back at the house? We’re so whimsical and funny and smart, ho ho ho, har-de-har-har-har. Even Ash had gotten in on it, though Sam at least seemed to have enough decency inside of her to keep from outright jeering at him.
Didn’t have enough of that decency to, y’know, say ‘No guys, I won’t be part of this super stupid prank,’ but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
The details of their stupid goof weren’t important. They’d kept searching the basement. It’d been dark. Ash had ‘gotten sick.’ He’d been a good fucking person and gone to check on her—like good people do!—and what had he gotten in return? Well, he’d gotten the fuck (but not the piss!) scared out of him.
To his credit, he absolutely would’ve noticed something was off if he hadn’t been so distracted by the fact that the gang’s matching hoodies had the word ‘CREPES’ printed on them for some reason. If he hadn’t been trying to puzzle that one out, there was no question in his mind he would’ve noticed that Ash was acting suspicious or that there were lumps under the cuffs of her sleeves or something like that. As it was, though, he’d been trying to figure out why the fuck the CREEPS ghost hunting team had matching sweatshirts that said CREPES instead, so no. No, he hadn’t been expecting it when she’d lunged at him with her stupid white-out contacts and all that fake blood Wash was always carting around in the back of his car like some sort of discount dollar store Patrick Bateman.
Assholes. Oh, they thought it was the funniest thing that had ever happened in the history of the world. It had been days! Days! And they were still laughing!
He’d come here to watch the episode they’d put together and to okay the segments he was in—he had not come here to have a bunch of idiots without enough charisma between them to fill a teaspoon point and giggle at him. Of course, that hadn’t turned out a whole lot better because, see, these boneheads thought they were real funny; they’d turned his episode (the one they’d insisted on titling ‘MUMMY MANSION – EXPOSED!!!’) into the one offering on their stupid YouTube channel where everything was—surprise!—easily explained away by science and/or common sense. Not ghosts. Or ghouls. Or mummies. Or…shit, what else was there? Vampires? Goblins?
He was seriously beginning to doubt that working with these fuckers would be worth spooking Alex and Julia after all.
“Okay,” he groaned when the bullying became too much for his itty-bitty feelings to handle and a change of subject felt just as necessary as his next breath, “Serious question time, if you lugs are done busting my chops.” He adjusted his position on the couch, leaning in closer to the center of their group, “Have you guys ever seen anything that could possibly be real? Shit you couldn’t explain?”
Sam was the first to bow out of the conversation. “Don’t look at me, I’m the newbie here. I haven’t gone looking for anything creepy or crawly until I joined up.”
“Fair enough. Dorks?” He turned his gaze towards the other three, less than surprised when they all sort of grimaced.
“Uh…n…no. No, I don’t think so?”
“Hey, that’s not true! What about that Polaroid from Cochise’s aunt’s house? That shit was pretty convincing…”
“Dude. For the millionth time, that was a fucking moth.”
“Oh please. That was a top quality orb, my doubtful friend. Legit ghost material.”
“It was a moth.”
“Orb.”
“It had eyes!”
“Haunting, ghostly eyes. Stared right into my very soul. Laid my whole person bare. The pure sense of knowing in those eyes…the hatred in that stare…”
“It had wings and antennas!”
“Antennae.”
“Thanks, Ash. No one would’ve understood what I meant otherwise.”
He was used to their shtick by that point, so he just let them go, leaving them free to act out their little Three Stooges act to their hearts’ content. Really, he knew there wasn’t much on Earth that could stop them once they got started anyway…it was better to keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times when dealing with Wash and his horror harem, honestly, and he was in too good a mood today to risk getting one of his fingers caught in the gears of that particular merry-go-round. Way too good a mood.
He did have a date tonight, after all.
“Ghost moth,” he said with a nod, “Cool. Super spooky. Y’know, if you guys really wanted to scare your audience, not sure why you stopped with the whole comedy thing…shit sure gave me nightmares.”
Oooh, that one must’ve hit close to home, because Hartley actually turned around in his little swivel chair and looked away from his computer for the first time since Conrad had knocked on their door. “For your information,” he began, “We were hilarious. I-i-it’s not our fault Vine went defunct, that was all on—”
There was a snort from Ash’s side of the couch, and uh oh, trouble in paradise, Hartley’s attention shifted to her instead. “What? I mean…he’s right,” she said, a wicked curve to her lips. “Seriously though, the cooking stuff was wayyy scarier. Like geez Louise, did you guys pay attention in Home Ec even once?”
“The answer to that one’s gonna be a resounding, uh, no.”
Rolling his eyes and holding his hands up as though to defend himself from this bloodthirsty onslaught of (totally fair) criticism, Wash pointed out, “Hey, never once have I had a reason to know how to cook, okay?”
“Uuuntil the cooking show,” Ash interrupted.
“Until the cooking show,” he ceded. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m an artistic, talented, wealthy individual with a solid metabolism and very generous genetics. I can afford to eat all of my meals fresh out of the microwave, thank you very much. Now Cochise, on the other hand—”
“Fuck you too, dude.” And aw man, was that an actual crack in his voice? Precious. So precious. Getting a rise out of Hartley was the easiest goddamn thing in the world—all you had to do was say anything, literally anything, halfway witty with Ash in the same room. Guy was twice as transparent as any ghost they’d ever claimed to come across.
…speaking of ghosts…
Conrad leaned back on the couch, not exactly thrilled at the strange lump poking him just underneath his left shoulder blade, and nodded towards Wash. “You fucks were too busy doing your whole Friday the 13th bullshit to really explain when I asked the other night, so pardon me for belaboring the point, but uh…what’s up with the breakfast club hoodies, huh?”
Washington plucked at the front of his own, looking down into the face of the dorky ghost on his chest, its comical nerd glasses cracked as though it had been beaten up by a bigger, stronger, less blobby phantasm. Then, eyebrows slowly rising the lower his eyes went, he reached the lettering. “Yeahhh…Cochise screwed the pooch on that one.”
“So what else is new?”
“Hey. Watch it, Connie.” There was a warning note in Ash’s voice, and why wouldn’t there be? She was just as easy to mess with—poke fun at Hartley one time too many and pow! God, he wondered if they realized they were so obvious. He doubted it. Highly. Sincerely. Ash and Hartley were two of the stupidest smart people he’d ever met in his life, and that was a stone-cold fact. The world was likely to enter a second ice age before either one of them made anything even resembling a move.
“Why don’t you get new ones, then?” he asked, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, something about the whole misspelling thing is def fairly representative of your group as a whole, but…”
Clearly rubbed raw over his typo, Hartley rolled his eyes and groaned, “Stop acting so high and mighty, Connie, it—”
Oh, good mood or not, that would never fucking do. “Dude, for the last time, don’t call me Connie.”
“Everyone calls you Connie! I just want in on that action.”
“Ohoho, no everyone does not.” He hunkered down to show them how dead serious he was about the whole thing (and he was, in fact, quite fucking serious), explaining in the careful tone of a kindergarten teacher telling a four-year-old about the dangers of sticking craft scissors in their nose, “‘Connie’ is exclusively for family and the ladies. Ladies such as our lovely, lovely Miss Brown, here.” He swept an arm out towards Ash, who promptly made a noise of disbelief…but unless he was wrong (he wasn’t), who also might’ve also gone a bit pinker in the cheeks and ears.
Wash leveled his stare at him. “Am I not a pretty enough lady for you? You are unbelievable, man. You come into my home, insult my feminine wiles…”
“You’re not a pretty enough anything for me, Washington.”
“This is why no one likes you, Bishop.”
“Uh, pretty sure your mom does. Pretty sure she likes me a whole lot, in fact.” Well, now this was a well-travelled path, wasn’t it? (Much like Wash’s mom.) Grinning, he leaned in again, preparing an all-out, full-frontal ‘Your Mom’ assault, when Hartley interrupted him.
“Heyheyhey, not to press the pause button on this meeting of the minds, but…let’s do this scientifically. Can I call you Connie?”
He bared his teeth in what wasn’t a grimace but wasn’t exactly a smile, either. “Only if I can call you Cochise.”
Ah, that seemed to drive the point home. Hartley’s mouth flattened into a line. “Okay, so that’s a hard no. Can Ash?”
“Yeah. I literally…” Conrad sighed, dramatically dropping his head into one of his hands. “I just said that. Keep up, Cochise.”
“I said no. How about Michelle Obama?”
This was why he didn’t hang out with these assholes more than once in a blue moon. This right here. He watched Hartley for a grip, blinking a single, tired blink when he saw there was no escaping the upcoming list. “I mean, sure? If she wants to. I wouldn’t turn her down.”
“Nic Cage?”
“No.”
“Wow, okay, rude, I’m sure you’ll be hearing from his people about that. The man is a national treasure. What about Josh?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”
“Interesting! And Sam?”
“I—” He’d been too distracted by the others’ idiocy to really pay much attention to what Sam had been doing up until that point, but at Hartley’s mention, he found himself compelled to look her way. It was then, looking at her profile as she flipped through her notebook, that he realized with a fair amount of surprise that the answer that had immediately popped into his mind had been ‘no.’ “I mean…”
She perked up at the sound of her own name, eyebrows first arching upwards and then knitting. “Oh, uh. Should I be insulted?”
“No—no. You could call me Connie if the spirit moved you,” he said slowly, tilting his head this way and that, an itch tickling the grey matter at the very back of his brain. It was like there was something he was missing and it was on the very tip of his tongue…
“Uh, thanks.”
“Nice, man. Real nice. You come into my home, you insult Sammy’s feminine wiles…”
“No, I…it’s nothing personal, you just…” And then it clicked. Oh, holy shit did it click.
“What?” Wash taunted. “Say it.”
Without turning to him, Conrad flipped him the bird. Now that it had occurred to him, saying it out loud felt stupid, like running into your parents’ room to tell them how terrifying your nightmare had been only to realize, oh whoops, maybe there wasn’t actually anything inherently scary about being in an aquarium where the all the water and fish were purple. Then again, he needed to remember he was talking to a bunch of people who willingly told the internet at large that they poked around abandoned McDonald’s PlayPlaces to find ghosts, so like.
They could probably deal.
“You look just enough like my sister that it would be weird. Like, you don’t look exactly like her, but it’s really, really close, and—” Something else occurred to him then. This was a primo opportunity to get the creepy crawlies back on track! Forgetting Sam entirely, he whirled around to Wash, grinning that innocent down-home grin that showed his dimples so well. “Hey! So, speaking of my sister…do you remember the terms of our little arrangement?”
If he was moved by the dimples, Wash didn’t let on. “Uh, yeah. You took us to a dingy, late-80’s split-level with no ghosts and lots of dust, and in return, you got to pretend like you had friends for a night.”
“Ooh, burn!”
Conrad ignored Hartley entirely, sticking an accusatory finger in Wash’s face as he got up from the couch to more efficiently round on him. There was no way he was going to let this weasely weasel weasel out of their deal…sel. “And! And you said you’d scare someone for me.”
“Pretty sure we did that too.” With a wave of his hand, Wash had Hartley play (and replay…and replay again) the part of their exploration through the mansion where, wow, how hilarious, Ash had scared the fuck out of him. He was still fairly convinced they’d edited the video in some way to make his voice sound shriller than it actually was, but he knew damn well neither of them would ever admit to it.
“Ha ha. Funny. Real funny. You guys are a real Abbott and Costello, huh? Look, if you’re gonna be a little shit and renege on our deal…”
“Oh blah blah blah…would you quit yapping and get to the point already, man?”
He clapped once, rubbing his hands together in what was most certainly a very business-like manner and not at all reminiscent of a cartoon villain preparing to tie someone to the railroad tracks. “Okay, okay, so. The chump in question is JJ’s boyfriend. Just need to get a good scare in to fuck with his bullshit macho act—”
“Wait, Alex?”
For a second there, his brain cramped up. Something about hearing Alex’s name out of Hartley’s mouth just hit pause on the whole shebang. “How did y…oh shit, right, you’re friends with Brad, aren’t you?” Shit. Oh shit. If they mentioned any of this to Brad, he was SOL. “Ugh! God—don’t you bring him in on this! I think we all know Bradical’s a man of many talents, but subterfuge? Not one of ‘em.” Which was being kind, really. Exceptionally kind. The kinda kind only doddering old grandmothers could usually achieve.
Thankfully, he found no resistance from the peanut gallery. “Yeah, no.”
“Bless his little heart, he tries.”
“Does he?”
Meanwhile, Wash’s posture had changed in a small, subtle way, his head inclined at an angle that years of experience had taught him meant he was listening especially carefully. He sniffed disinterestedly, which again suggested that he was, in fact, extremely interested. “What, precisely, did the elder Smith do to get in your bad book? Never pegged you as the protective sort, Conman.”
He blew a raspberry that tapered off into a snicker. “Protective? Nah, not me. This is just, uh…” Ah, but here was…a crossroads.
The less these fuckers knew about his actual intentions, the better. He’d seen how they handled themselves, and he was not about to get himself into some sort of shitty Monkey’s Paw situation where he got them to agree to this prank only for them to fuck him over in the end. Like, say, how they’d managed to fuck him over with the stupid Mummy Mansion episode. Nuh-uh, no way. Not in this lifetime. Wash would find out about the inevitable wedding when his parents made their bi-annual call to check in on him and mentioned something about ‘that sweet Bishop girl getting married.’ No sooner. So help him God.
“Initiation! What are we older brothers good for, if not putting the fear of God into baby sis’s prospective datemates, right? I mean,” he chuckled, nudging Josh with his elbow, “You know what that’s like. It’s our job!”
It came to him a moment too late that, uh.
Fuck.
Wash’s sisters weren’t exactly in need of protecting anymore, were they?
Mmm.
Yikes.
Whoops.
Wash’s smile tightened. “I’ll fucking think about it.”
Conrad pretended not to realize this was a grade-A foot-in-mouth situation, doubling down in hopes that it would get them out of the conversation that much faster. “Think about it? You promised!”
“Yeah, and you promised us a mummy man, so…”
“I did not promise you a mummy. I said—”
“Ah, and now you’re gonna make up a whole new load of crap and try to sell me on it, huh? Not how it works.”
“I’m not making anything up!” He kept the indignation in his voice, but phew was he glad they’d waltzed their way out of Dead Sibling Station.
“Oh bull-fucking-shit, dude, you’re—”
“All I did was tell you what my mom told me, okay? I can’t control the information that’s passed on to me—I can only convey it to you…”
“Christ alive…”
“…in a manner that’s both truthful and entertaining! I didn’t say we’d find a mummy, I said someone else did! Once. A while ago. But—but!” Oh thank God for his dad’s big fucking mouth, and thank God he’d been attentive enough that night at dinner to get a workable story out of it, “That wasn’t the only story she got from the previous homeowners!” Oho, that got ‘em. The girls might not’ve cared, but Wash and Hartley were both watching him expectantly.
Fantastic. He had…such a story ready for them. “For real,” he continued, “Get this: The guy who owned the place before the most recent couple? He died in there!”
“Uh huh.”
“In the shower! He didn’t have any family or anything, so it took the mail people noticing that his mailbox was crammed full to go ‘Huh, wonder where this sad sap is.’ So they called in a welfare check, the cops came, and they found this guy in the bathroom, dead in the tub, with the shower still running! It’d been going the whole fucking time! They said by the time they found him…” He paused for dramatic effect, eyes flicking from Wash to Hartley and back again, “…they couldn’t tell the difference between him and the shower!”
“They…wait. Wh…what does…Conrad. What in the fuck could that possibly mean?!”
“It means—”
“D-d-did he fucking become a shower? Is that the scary part of this story?”
“No, asshole! His skin like—”
“Became porcelain tile?! I’m pretty sure I could tell the difference between a spongy-ass skeleton corpse and a shower!”
How were they not getting this?! This was the grossest story of the century! Why were they just looking at him like that, like he was some kind of loony rambling about the moon being hollow?! This was a serious tale from the crypt! A yuck-fest the likes of which no human had ever heard before! “You obtuse morons are missing the point!”
Fingers rubbing slow circles into his temples, Washington craned his head back until he was staring at the ceiling’s recessed lighting. “The point,” he repeated, “What would the point be, exactly? That through the alchemy of simple city tap water, a man in the house we found nothing—repeat: nothing—in was transmogrified into grout-proof ceramic?”
He was going to murder them. Both of them. Fuck strangling, he was just going to bash their heads together until they were nothing but pulp. “Don’t you do this,” he said, shaking his head with something like betrayal, “Don’t you dare pretend like this isn’t the sickest shit you’ve ever heard.”
“It’s not, though,” Wash said slowly.
“I-i-it doesn’t make sense,” Hartley agreed.
“How does it not make sense?! His body was eroded away until it was unrecognizable, and—”
“You can tell bones from a shower!”
He raised his hands, flexed his fingers, balled them into fists, flexed them again, dropped them to his sides with a groan that bordered on a scream. “He fucking disintegrated! The man became soup! Why don’t you get that?! The motherfucker became a goddamn stew!”
“Not possible. Absolutely not possible. I don’t claim to be a whiz at biology or anything, but—”
“Why is this an argument?” Hartley stood from his chair, shaking his head. “This is…this…fuck this! Fuck this and fuck you. Look.” He jerked his hand towards the back of the apartment, and the three of them filed through one of the bedrooms to make it to the bathroom. The shower curtain’s hooks screamed bloody murder when the curtain itself was flung open, making him recoil. “You look into that tub. And you explain to me. How a human being. Could be that.”
As he looked down into the basin of the tub, it did stand to be said that he realized perhaps he had worded his claims a little, well, loosely. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Conrad Bishop might’ve been a man who could recognize when he’d been wrong, but he was not a man who admitted when he’d been wrong. So he joined Hartley in front of the tub, pointing just as furiously. “He kicked it in the tub. The water kept running. His body plugged the drain, so it just collected, and the water beat at him until it—”
“The worst,” Wash interrupted, butting in between the two of them to also stare down into the tub, “That could’ve possibly happened…is that he fuckin’ filled the thing with little jelly-bits of himself that kinda coagulated or whatever, but I don’t think when the first responders got there that their initial thought was ‘Aw shit. Look at that. Man’s a shower now. Damnedest thing.’”
“They—”
“It’s not even scary, that’s the thing! Like, you get that, right? You get that it’s not scary? Are you trying to say that like, there’s some kind of gooey flesh-colored Jell-O ghost in that house? Th-that, what, we should’ve gone in there and shot something like ‘Mummy Man and Bathtub Soup Guy: The Sitcom?!’”
“He’s a desiccated raisin…and he’s human-flavored oatmeal,” Wash interrupted, speaking with a tv narrator’s projection and panache, “What hijinx will they get up to? Find out next week.”
“Really not sure I appreciate the tone, fuckwits.” …fuck! He was doing it again! He was letting their bullshit infect him. “Y’know, I don’t need to stand here and defend myself—”
“Uh, you kinda do. You came in here talking about—”
“I just need you guys to fucking agree that you’re still going to help me scare the pants off of Alex. That’s it. That’s all I need. I thought maybe you’d find my tale of bone broth man charming and delightful, but clearly I can see that I was wrong—”
“Clearly.”
Reaching into the deepest depths of his heart, he found it within himself to ignore that snide aside instead of yoinking Hartley’s glasses off his face and playing keepaway. “So? Are we still square? You’re gonna give him the works, right? The works.”
The two of them traded a look he wasn’t really the biggest fan of, but eventually Wash rolled his eyes and heaved a long-suffering sigh through his nose. “Yeah, sure. Fine. We’ll figure something out.”
The relief that washed over him was immense.
“After break.”
His eyes flew open from his impromptu moment of bliss, opening his mouth before the numbers added up.
After break?
After break.
Well that was…fuck. He still hadn’t gone through Julia’s Facebook to check their stupid anniversary date, but…he was still feeling spring. It was probably spring…right? Spring was, after all, the most romantic of seasons, what with the flowers and the sunshine and all the animals doing the deed to make a bunch of baby animals, so…after break was…probably okay.
“Suuure…” Conrad said slowly, stretching the word out until it had something like five or six syllables. “I…yeah, sure, after break. Cool. I have some ideas, by the way, in case you guys—”
“You insist on leeching off the wild popularity of my internet show,” Wash started up again, ignoring Harley’s low ‘Our internet show’ as he squeezed his gangly-ass body between the two of them to worm his way out of the bathroom, staying a few steps ahead even as they followed him into the living room. “You give me nothing to work with. You try to tell me about the finer points of decomposition. And then you have the audacity—the gall—to suggest that your ideas for scaring people are better than mine. I don’t know what they taught you in all those manners classes your mom made you take back in junior high, but I have half a mind to tell her she should look into getting a refund.”
From the floor, a new voice offered its two cents: “Oh, absolutely. She should definitely put in a formal request.”
“Okay, first off, wow, that was entirely uncalled for, but secondly, I sure don’t remember inviting you into this conversation.”
Ash wasn’t much in the way of a smirker, but she gave it her best shot. Kind of precious, really. “You guys have been literally screaming about dead guys in bathtubs this whole time. I’d be shocked if the neighbors didn’t start knocking on the door to give their opinions.” She pulled her knees up to her chest as she leaned back against the front of the couch, and for a horrendous moment he was positive she was about to launch into her own explanation of how human bodies decayed in water…but that wasn’t exactly what happened. Ash opened her mouth to say something (probably the aforementioned scientific explanation), simultaneously nudging Sam with her shoulder, and something must’ve felt off about the whole thing because her smile wavered as she turned towards her and away from him and the guys.
It was then that he realized Goldilocks wasn’t looking so hot. Last he’d actually paid attention to her, she’d been going through her notebook with a pencil tucked into the loose knot of hair at the back of her head and a highlighter in her hand, but now? Now she looked…to put it frankly, Sam looked like she was about to blow chunks all over Wash’s carpeting.
“Is she, uh…oookay?” Conrad asked under his breath, unsure whether he should be anticipating (another) stupid jumpscare.
“Uh…”
“Sam? Hellooo…Ground Control to major Sam?” Wash pushed past him and walked the few steps to the couch, crouching down to wave a hand in front of her face. “You feelin’ okay there, Sammy?” he asked when she seemed to shake herself out of it.
While he still wasn’t totally convinced this wasn’t about to be another dumb prank getting pulled at his expense, Conrad felt himself begin to frown. Ash might’ve acted sick back at the house, but Sam looked ill—like legitimately ill—sort of grey in the face and lips, and that shit was hard to fake.
A sympathetic puker by nature, he readied himself to make a beeline for the door, should it come to that.
“I…yeah, yeah, sorry…” Sam mumbled, sounding just as out of it as she looked. Without explaining what sort of stick she’d jammed up her ass, she started shoving her things into her bag, paying absolutely zero attention to what was going where. He could hear papers getting crumpled. Not a great sign. “I just, uh…I think I’m coming down with something.”
“Oh nooo! Really?”
“Yeah, it’s…I’m gonna, um, head out, I think?”
He didn’t say as much, but that sounded like an excellent idea. He’d seen that look on people’s faces before—that was the look that came after ‘I can absolutely handle one more shot, guys, seriously!’—not the sort of thing one wanted to see on their houseguest’s face.
“You want a ride?” Wash asked, ever the gentleman, reaching over to help her up before she waved him away.
Sam stood, wobbling unsteadily on her feet, and shook her head way too quickly for someone who was knock-knock-knocking on Good Lady Pukington’s front door. “Nope, I could use the air. It’s fine.”
Welp, this felt like as organic a time as any…Conrad checked his watch and made the all the requisite sounds of disappointment when he saw the time. “I should be heading out too.” Again he paused for effect, taking a moment to actually straighten his shirt out a bit as he added, “Got a hot date tonight.”
The other three were still obviously concerned with Sam…and yet it didn’t stop them from getting in one last jab apiece.
“Doubtful,” Ash said flatly.
“Sounds fake, but okay,” Hartley added.
“Aw, you didn’t tell me your mom was coming over!” Wash said, rounding out the three of them. There wasn’t, however, the usual smarmy grin accompanying the insult; nah, he was too busy watching Blondie stagger her way towards the door.
Well, whatever. Weirdness followed those freaks like a shadow in a well-lit room. All he knew was he had places to be, and those were places he’d prefer to go without any sort of vomit on his person, so he was gonna go while the getting was good. One last halfhearted wave to the CREEPs and he was off!
Unfortunately, it seemed Sam was heading the same way. He couldn’t just…overtake her in the hallway (he wasn’t a monster), but man, he didn’t need to be dealing with this on top of everything else he’d just had to endure back at Mystery Inc. “Hey, seriously, you sure you’re gonna be okay to get back to your place?” he asked as he caught up to her, slowing his stride so they were going at the same pace.
No answer.
Great. He watched as she shakily started down the stairs and goddamn his proper upbringing—he couldn’t just leave her to handle that alone! Moving at a speed that would’ve made a snail look like Speed Racer, he made his way down the stairs one riser at a time, watching Sam’s expressionless face from the corner of his eye. “If you want me to like, call someone or go get one of the idiots back there I ca—”
“Hey, so…weird question for you.” She said it so suddenly that he nearly banged his elbow into the railing in surprise.
Well, talking was a good sign, wasn’t it? Sure it was. “Lucky for you, weird questions are sort of my specialty! Right after mixing highballs and bullshitting essays. Hit me.”
He’d made it to the bottom of the stairs but she hadn’t. He turned to see her still standing there on the second to last step, her face grey and her arms hugged tightly around herself. …maybe talking wasn’t as good a sign as he’d hoped.
“Earlier, you said something…uh…this is gonna sound real dumb if it’s nothing, so I’m just gonna ask it anyway.” Sam heaved a sigh, and even that seemed to wobble. “You said something to Josh about wanting to scare your sister’s boyfriend?”
“Well yeah, just as a joke, though!” His grin took a decidedly defensive kind of edge as he backpedaled. How much of his motivation was he going to have to explain to her about this? If word got back to Wash, there was no telling what sort of bullshittery he’d have to deal with. “Alex is cool and all, just kind of super, super uptight, and God help me, sometimes it’s li—”
“No, I—no. Literally, I don’t care about that.”
“Oh!” He laughed…then paused, watching her warily again. “Wait, what?” He felt like he was missing a very important piece of this puzzle.
“When you guys were talking about that, you said he ‘knows what it’s like?’”
He continued to stare at her. When her words simply trailed off, his confusion only deepened. “Uh…okay? Did I?”
“Were you saying, like…he knows what it’s like to…I thought Josh was an only child?”
“I mean, he is…well, now, anyway.” It didn’t occur to him that maybe that was the sort of thing you didn’t say aloud to a person you didn’t know all that well until she grabbed his arm.
For how tiny she was, Sam had a hell of a grip. He could feel each of her fingers digging into his arm like she was Iron Man or some shit. Standing on that stair as she was, the two of them were almost of a height, so he had no choice but to look into her eyes, wide and scared and not totally there as she asked, “What does that mean? What do you mean ‘now?’ Like, like…like his parents have plans for more kids, or—”
He wasn’t sure why he didn’t pull away from her, considering she was absolutely acting like a crazy person (and a crazy person on the verge of hoarking up her lunch onto him, at that), but he didn’t. “Uh, I meant his si—” Conrad froze, his bafflement melting away into shock, then suspicion, then realization, then finally…fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck him sideways. “Oh holy shit, you don’t know about that, do you?”
Sam stared at him.
Well that was great.
“Fffffff—okay. Okay. I think maybe I should…stop…talking…”
“Conrad.” Sam’s voice had gone dry and cracked, making her sound exactly like a spooky ghost child from a bad horror movie. “I need you to tell me about his sisters.”
“Sam, I—wait.” Anxiously, he glanced over his shoulder towards the door of the apartment, turning back to her only once he was sure it was still closed. “How did you know I was gonna say sisters?” That was an awfully lucky guess she was about to make. Suspiciously lucky.
“Please.”
Oh this was fucked. This whole situation was fucked. This wasn’t something he should’ve been talking about—hell, when it had gotten brought up earlier, he’d just sort of made an ass out of himself until he and Wash had paraded themselves past it. But it didn’t look like Sam was going to be so easily swayed. Nope. Not even a little. “I probably shouldn’t…look, I’ve already…this is a real dick move, and—”
“Was it a car accident?”
It was his turn to stare blankly at her.
“Were they twins?”
Conrad did pull away from her then; slowly, yes, but deliberately. “So what’s the deal?” he asked, clearly trying to figure out what the fuck was happening, every inch as lost—as terrified—as she seemed. “Do you know the story or not? Make up your mind!”
A second, maybe two, and then Sam sprinted past him, the front doors to the apartment complex banging shut behind her as she all but flew out of the place. Then she was just gone, leaving him standing in front of the stairs like some sort of dipshit, his stomach tied up in knots and his mouth tasting like crushed-up aspirin.
He shot another nervous glance up the stairs, almost as though he expected the CREEPs to be standing at the top, shaking their heads judgmentally or…shit, throwing balled up garbage at him or something. Of course they weren’t—why would they be?—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just gone and done something he shouldn’t have.
Sam must’ve known something about Wash’s sisters…right? She sure seemed to know they’d been twins. And fuck, the thing about the car crash? Fucking spooky, that’s what that was! She had to have known. No question. It wasn’t like he’d just told her about them, he couldn’t have told her about them if she already knew, but…
Then why did he feel so absolutely godawful about the whole thing?
His phone buzzed in his pocket, causing him to jump about a mile into the air. The people walking by must’ve thought he was having some sort of fit, Jesus Christ…he grabbed his phone to check it, again expecting to see a flurry of furious, indignant messages (‘How could you?!’ ‘So not cool!’ ‘What gives you the fucking right?!’ ‘Who do you think you are?!’ ‘You’re such a douche!’). And again, there was nothing like that. Because…why would there be? The way Sam had run out of the place at full-tilt, he doubted squealing to the dorks was going to be her number one priority.
Fliss: You’re still coming, right?
He brought his other hand up to rake through his hair. Maybe Sam had the right idea after all. Maybe he just needed to take a good, long walk to calm the chaos going on in his chest and in his head. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?
Conrad: Yeah, running a couple minutes late, my b! Conrad: Save me a seat, wouldya?
Without waiting for a reply, he pocketed his phone again and stepped out into the chilly air, hoping against hope that he hadn’t just really, really, really gone and fucked up.
He had a sinking suspicion, though, that he had.
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Dumpling ch. 24
The last chapter was a little thinner than I normal post and I left it on a cliffhanger. So I’m releasing the next chapter early. Enjoy the pity chapter, peeps!
Word spread fast through the castle that the leader of the Hill Tribes, a man named Gregis, had died. Of what, no one seemed to know. However, all through the early morning as breakfast was cooked and readied for the top table, footman and servants were abuzz about the human leader’s demise, murmurs of unease and conspiracy ran amok.
“I wonder who will replace him,” said one footman as he waited for Saen to fill the serving tray with sweetmeats, whole fruits that had been boiled and stirred for hours in honey and sugar and taken on a translucent appearance.
“Who’s to say,” Yale replied from beside him as he sliced portions of cold meat of the left over boar from the previous night’s meal. “I don’t think we have much influence in the Hill Tribe’s politics. King kind of lets them figure out their own affairs.”
“What if the new leader hates Vhasshalans and they start raiding us?”
Yale scowled at the footman, looking as though he were seriously contemplating smashing him over the head with his own serving tray. “Raid us? What would they do that fer? We feed ‘em ya right git!”
The footman had the decency to look ashamed. “Well, yes. But y’know how greedy they are...”
Yale bristled and he glowered. “If ya don’t shut yer gob, I’m gonna smash all yer teeth out and ya can eat soup fer the rest ‘a ya fucking life.”
“Sorry!” The footman left with his tray in a hurry after that.
“Fucking prat,” Saen muttered after him. “And he runs like a lass.”
For her part, Nenani spent the morning gathering up rocks that were scattered around the camp. Some were smoothed and polished river stones and other were chunks of layered earth that sparkled when the light hit them just right. Anything that looked pretty, she added to her pile. The freedom to wander about as she wished was a somewhat novel thing. Normally the kitchens were so busy in the morning, she had to stay put so as not to get in the way or get stepped on by an unobservant footman. The yard where they had set up the temporary kitchen was wide with plenty of space. To one side, the rampart loomed high above them, stone facing that stretched high into the sky, while the other was the wooden backsides of the guards’ barracks and armory. Just a bit further along was the stables and smithy.
She had managed to accumulate a respectable collection by the time Farris finally returned. Even from a distance it was clear he was in a particularly fowl mood. Tucked under one arm was a small chest. Yale was the first to greet him.
“Mornin’ boss,” he said tentatively. “Everythin’ go alright?”
“No,” Farris snorted humorlessly, dropping the chest heavily onto a table and making the serving bowls clink and chatter. He stared into it for a moment, scowling and growling. “I suppose ya heard th’news by now.”
“About Gregis? Yeah,” Yale replied. “We heard the horns last night.” Yale watched Farris dig through the chest and when no further elaborations came, he pressed him. “What happened? Farris?”
“Gregis tried to break up a fight between two other humans,” Farris replied and then paused to pull out a small bottle, eyeing the contents inside and giving it a little shake to loosen the material within. He replaced it back into the chest and continued his rummaging. “One of the lil’ fucks stabbed ‘im. Pierced his heart and he bled out right in front of the whole damn tribe.”
There were muted gasps and curses from everyone. Bart grunted and turned to spit, “What a fuckin’ waste.”
Nenani watched from her place next to the hut, noting their reactions. She knew the name Gregis from overhearing Keral and King Warren the time she got lost in the halls and just before getting nabbed by the Ranger Captain. Gregis’s wife had made something for the King. Some sort of talisman to help protect his unborn child. Nenani wondered what kind of man he had been and was aware that she would likely have known him if Farris had not chosen to keep her as his ward.
“Poor man,” Saen said, looking grim. “He was married, wasn’t he?”
Yale nodded. “Aye. Has a young son too, I think.”
“They’ll be holdin’ the funeral tonight,” Farris continued, closing the chest at last with a little more force than was necessary and seemed deeply dissatisfied with the whole thing. “Then they’ll hang the lil’ bastard who did it a few days from now.”
“Any idea what the fight was over?” Avery asked.
“Somethin’ stupid would be my guess,” Farris answered, tucking the small chest under one arm. “Doesn’t matter though. He’s dead. There’s talk of Warrick bein’ nominated to replace him.”
“Warrick?” Bart snorted incredulously. “Ain’t he that skinny twat ya brought back from Dornbey a few summers passed?”
Farris laughed darkly. “That skinny twat grew up, Bart. Got big. Fer as big as a human can get.”
“Will ya be going?” Bart asked, leaning against the table with his arms crossed. “To the funeral.”
“Thought about it,” Farris replied, something hard moving across his face, but in a flash it was gone. “Not certain I much care fer watchin’ a dead human roast. Saw plenty ‘a that durin’ the war and I don’t care to see it ever again.”
“It ain’t the same,” Bart replied, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezing. “Not at all.”
“Aye,” Farris sighed, looking world wary and tired. Nenani could see the dark circles under his eyes and she wondered if he had slept at all. It did not escape Bart’s eye either and the burly giant, patted Farris’s shoulder.
“Ye look like hell, Farris,” Bart said quietly. “Go take a bit ‘a rest. The boy’s and I know what needs t’be done.”
“No time,” Farris replied shaking his head and making his way towards the larger tent. “Maevis is needin’ some things.”
Farris ducked inside to place the chest on a small table near the front before turning back, a fresh apron in his hands. He was tying it around his waist and moving towards the prep tables.
“Well,” Bart said to him “He ain’t needin’ ‘em right this moment is he?”
The kitchen master stopped and considered it. “Nah. He ain’t.”
The butcher huffed and waved Farris off. “Go on then. We can handle this fine. Maevis has the patience of a saint and won’t care if he has to wait till after lunch fer his order.”
Farris paused, considering and finally he sighed and nodded. “Fine. Come and wake me if it gets too late.”
Bart’s answer came in an affirmative grunt before he returned to his work. Farris warily entered the hut, pulling the apron off. Nenani watched him and there was a nagging feeling in her chest and almost as though it were a compulsory thing, she stood and went to the hut’s open door and peeked in. Farris was sitting on the edge of his cot, wiping one hand down his face and she could more clearly see the toll taken on her guardian. His shoulders slumped as though bowing under the weight of something very heavy and though he was often seen scowling at nothing in particular at any given moment, his frown looked...very sad. Suddenly, green eyes turned to face her and Nenani bristled.
“What is it, Dumplin’?” Farris asked, his voice hoarse. She eased herself into the hut and slowly approached, wringing her hands. She stopped at his boots and looked up. Farris was peering down at her and his green eyes seemed duller. “Hm?”
“Are...” she started, licking her lips. “Are you okay?”
Farris seemed confused and a little taken aback by the question. “...I’ll live.”
She frowned. “That’s not what I asked...”
Farris quirked an eyebrow at her. But when she just continued to frown at him, crossing her arms and waiting for her answer, the forlorn lines of his face broke and he smiled. “I’m fine, lass. Just tired is all. Lot of things happenin’ all at the same time. Beats ya down after a while.” He snorted and wiped something from one eye. “Startin’ t’ pitty the nail...”
She studied his face before asking, “Did you know him? Gregis?”
He nodded. “Aye, I did. Wouldn’t ‘ave called him a ‘friend’, but we worked together gettin’ humans outta Dornbey and settled into the Hill Tribes. Knew ‘im fer a long time. A very long time...”
“Is that where they sell humans?” She asked. “At the market? Where Kent came from? And Sawyer?”
He winced and shook his head. “It ain’t something ya should be hearin’ about, lass,” Farris said, waving his hand. “Not fer a lil’un’s ears.”
She wanted to protest, to say that she wasn’t stupid. She had heard enough of Dornbey market to understand a little of what kinds of nefarious dealings were to be had there. And she also understood Farris and Yale’s trips there were not only purely to acquire produce for the kitchens. They were looking for Vhasshalans violating the King’s creed against eating humans. But seeing the stern warning in his eyes, Nenani dropped it.
She put a hand on the leather of his boot. “But...you’re okay?”
Warmth returned to his eyes and he nodded, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips. He reached down and ran his finger tips across her head. “Aye.”
The fingers at head her dropped down and he cupped her back with his palm, steering her to face the door and gave her a gentle nudge. “Go on and play, Nenani. Weather’s turnin’ and it won’t be much time at all till the snows taller than ye are and ye’ll be stuck inside fer months. Best enjoy it while it lasts.”
She turned back as the hand retreated and in a sudden, in-the-moment decision, she ran back to grab onto his fingers, squeezing as tightly as she could manage. She released her grip to turn and run out the hut’s door, calling back over her shoulder, “Sleep well!”
Farris was left slack jawed as he watching her run off, a warm feeling spreading through his tired and aching body. As he laid down onto his cot, covering his eyes with his folded apron, he smiled and for the first time in a long while, slept soundly without the faces of the dead to accompany his dreams.
……………………………………………………..
She almost did not recognize him in his fancy clothes. Instead of the well worn slacks and tunic, Jae wore a formal doublet made of green silk with delicate gold embroidery and proper black breeches. His boots had even been polished. For the first time since knowing him, looked to Nenani like a proper King’s ward. Prince like almost. His hair was even combed.
“Not the most comfortable thing to wear,” Jae told her, lifting his arm up and spinning to show off the embroidered trim along the side. “And it makes climbing harder and Lolly will skin me if I rip these pants. But I promised Rosanna I would try to look more the part. She’s still kind of…not all that happy with me, but I guess we’re making progress. Apparently she had some weird idea that Warren wanted me to be in line for the throne and be in competition with her baby. So once we cleared that up, she was a lot more open to me being around. She just doesn’t really talk to me, which is fine. I don’t have much to say to her anyway. But I’m trying to show her I can actually behave and be a good King’s ward. A lot of standing around while someone drones on for an hours about protocols and junk. Ibronians are obsessed with court etiquette. They have rules for everything! Mostly I only need to wear this getup at official functions or when I’m working.”
They had taken up a corner of the camp away from the cook fires and busy staff to quietly chat and catch up. Nenani sat wrapped in her quilt, her collection of river stones in her lap.
“Working?” she asked. “What are you working on?”
“Oh right!” Jae said, eyes bright. “You wouldn’t have heard. Warren’s made me Assistant Steward.”
“What’s that?” she asked, confused.
“Y’know, I asked him the same thing when he told me,” the boy replied with a smirk. “Basically, I trail along with Donal when he makes his rounds, keeping notes mostly, and delivering messages between the staff. The Steward and the Matron are the head servants, making sure everything runs smoothly between all the different departments.”
“Oh. So who’s the Matron?”
Jae looked at her oddly. “...well, Lolly is of course.”
“She is?” Nenani asked, feeling thrown for a loop.
Jae laughed. “You didn’t know?”
She shook her head. “No one calls her Matron...”
“No, that is true,” he replied conceding the point. “I don’t think she cares for the title to be honest. It does kind of invoke the image of someone much older.”
“Have you apologized to her?” Nenani asked. Jae coughed into his fist, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment.
“Yeah. Yeah I did,” he replied. “She came to see me late after...all that stuff happened.”
“So, does that mean everything’s okay now?” Nenani asked. “You can sleep in your own bed now?”
Jae rolled his eyes, but nodded. He stepped up onto a large boulder sticking up from the ground and eased himself into crouch. “Yup. Lolly even had it cleaned for me.”
“That was nice of her.”
“Yeah, but now I can’t find anything!” he laughed. Careful of his stiff clothing, Jae slowly sank down to sit onto the rock, letting his feet dangle just above the grass, appearing carefree and...content. More than she had ever seen.
“So what about you?” he asked. “Heard that Wyvern messed you up pretty good. These guys were beside themselves. I could heard Farris trying to break down the infirmary doors from Donal’s office.”
“Scariest moment of my life,” she replied. “Even worse than when I thought they were gonna eat me. By far!”
“We could hear it from the great hall. All the BANG and CRASH and WOOSH!,” Jae said, animated as he mimicked the sounds of a wyvern attack. “Everyone just started freaking out and started running around all useless. Thames even fainted!”
“It was so big!” Nenani said, flinging her arms out as far as they would go. “Like, a hundred feet long! It made everyone look small and Quinn said that Dragons are even bigger!”
“I’ve never seen one,” Jae replied with a shudder. “And hope it stays that way. Maevis told me once that Dragons weren’t only dangerous because of their size. They’re smart too. Like proper people smart.”
“I don’t think I wanna meet a dragon either,” Nenani made a face and Jae laughed.
“Oh!” he suddenly said, perking up. “That reminds me. I wanted to asked you about something Yale asked me...”
“Hm?”
“What’s this thing about dead people in the tunnels?”
Her heart gave an odd hiccup and for a moment, she could only stare at Jae. “Oh...yeah. He wasn’t suppose to say anything.”
“So, does that mean it’s true?” Jae asked, leaning down towards her, his eyes alight with curiosity. “You found...bones in there? Where? Why didn’t you anything before?”
She struggled to answer him, but to her relief, Jae did not press her on the fact that she had never told him. Instead, he leap to his feet. “We’re gonna have to find it again.”
“What?” Nenani balked. “No! It was scary!”
“Listen to me Nenani,” he said with a determined expression. “I have lived here for years and thought I knew those tunnels forwards and backwards. Now you’re saying you found a whole new tunnel? I have to see it for myself! Can you remember where it was? Any clue at all?”
“Well,” she began reluctantly. “When I ran away from it I ended up in a hallway and the King was there...it’s where Keral nabbed me...”
“What kind of tapestries did you see? Describe them.”
“Um...there was one with a tree and a horse and some ladies dressed in blue and..”
“I know where that one is!” Jae replied and then looked confused, tapping a finger to lip pursed lips. “But there’s not a door to the tunnels there...”
Nenani shrugged. She half expected him to feel defeated, but instead he looked as though this mystery was rejuvenating him and she was suddenly struck with the notion that he and Keral looked very much alike when they were excited.
“Alright!” He said in finality and turning back to Nenani. “I’m busty this afternoon and most of tomorrow with Donal, but after that I’m free. We’ll go searching for it then.”
“I...I don’t really...”
“Oh, come on! You stared a wyvern down and almost got chomped for real, but you’re too scared to go look for some old bones?”
“T-they’re not the same...”
“Well,” he said with a shrug. “You have two days to get over it. And then we go hunting.”
He turned away and began to walk away. Gaping at the back of Jae’s head, Nenani rose to her feet and yelled after him. “I didn’t agree to any of that!”
“Sorry,” Jae called back, now fully sprinting away. “Can’t hear ya!”
She stomped her feet indignantly. “JAE!”
…………………………………………………
It was well passed the luncheon hour when Farris emerged from the hut and the first thing he did was walk up to Bart and punch him squarely in the back of his right shoulder. “Ya fucker, ye was suppose to wake me if it got late.”
Wincing against the pain, Bart smirked. He rolled his shoulder. “Ah, sorry ‘bout that, Farris. Th’ time must’ve gotten away from me.”
Clearly not believing a word of what Bart had said, Farris just rolled his eyes and tightened his apron while muttering under his breath. Regardless of his protests, he did look very much improved by his rest, Nenani was quick to note. He carried himself in his the familiar way and took no pause before barking out orders and getting updates from everyone on where they were in their tasks.
“The iron one will do for now,” he was telling Gjerk. “We don’t need much ‘a the sauce fer the roast and I don’t want to be wastin’ anythin’ fer no good reason.”
Everyone went to their tasks, performing like a well oiled mechanism despite their heavy impairment with the kitchens still being repaired. Farris swept his gaze across the camp, noting where everyone was and mentally knocking off items from his list. He spotted Nenani under one of the prep tables set up near the cook fire, stacking rocks.
Nenani glanced up when she heard Farris approach, his boots making light crunching sounds. He crouched down to peer under the table at her, smirking quizzically. “Playin’ with rocks, lass?”
“No,” she replied and held a particular river stone. It was a blushing pink color with a cream stripe down the center. “Just the pretty ones.”
He shook his head. “Well, no one could accuse ya of not bein’ easily amused.”
She stuck her tongue at him.
“I got a job fer ya, lil’ un,” he said as he reached out to lift her up. Once she was secured in the crook of his arm, he then reach back down to grab up her quilt. Her collection tumbled out into the grass.
“Hey!” she protested.
“They’re rocks, lass. I think they’ll be fine.”
He took her into the large tent that was set up beside the hut where he had created a makeshift spice pantry. There were no shelves, but chests and boxes filled with the bottles and jars and crocks that normally stocked the shelves of his pantry in the kitchen. Nenani watched from the work table as Farris dug through one of the boxes. He was muttering something under his breath as he searched until at last he stood upright, something clasped in his hand. “Ah! There it is...”
He took a stool from the other side of the table and pulled it closer, easing into it and lowering his hand close to her, the items still clasped in his fist “Thought this was lost fer good. Surprised me when it showed up again when we cleaned everythin’ out.”
He opened his hand and nestled in his palm was a mortar and pestle made of dark stone. It was small and clearly meant for human use and for a moment, Nenani was very confused. Looking up at the spice master, she tilted her head in bafflement.
“It was Kent’s,” Farris explained. “He’d been gettin’ frustrated about bein’ useless, so I threatened ‘im that if he didn’t quit ‘is gripin’ I’d go ahead and give ‘im something to keep ‘im busy. Little bastard called my bluff. So I had this made fer ‘im.”
Farris plucked the tiny object from his palm and set it in front of Nenani. “Taught ‘im how to mix tinctures for Yaesha and that was ‘is job.”
She grabbed the stone pestle in her hands and lifted. It was heavy and large with her hands barely fitting around it. The inside of the mortar’s bowl and the end of the pestle were both rough surfaced while everything else was a smooth and polished back.
“And now, it’s yours.”
Nenani looked up at Farris, gaping. “Wha...really?”
He nodded. “Yale’s been teachin’ ya well on the all the herbs and yer picking it up quick. I’ll started ye on simple vinegar based recipes and we’ll work from there.”
Looking to the mortar, she ran her hands along the bowl, feeling the cold stone. The gravity of what this meant was not lost on her and inexplicably, she found her eyes were watering. Blinking them away, she craned her neck to look back at Farris who was watching her.
“Thank you,” she said. “I promise I’ll work really hard to learn.”
Farris smiled, chuckling as he stood up. “And don’t be thinkin’ I’m gonna let ya be slackin’ off just ‘cause ye a lil’un.”
“I am not a slacker,” she told him and Farris laughed loudly.
“Ya certainly won’t be when I’m done with ye.”
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The Legend of Silver Fang - Episode 5: The Beasts
If you haven’t read episode 4 yet, you can do so here.
As mentioned before, the major story beats and overarching plot are the same. This is written under the supposition that, in fantasy land, this is a mini series with episodes that run about 2 hours in length each.
Some things to be aware of going in:
This story is violent as shit!!! CONTENT WARNING FOR: Animal injuries, animal death, sickness via poisoning, eye trauma, weaponry, cannibalism, fire damage to property and animals, wacky cult antics, child abuse and endangerment, suicide, starvation, dogfighting, bullying, and idk probably something else terrible. Seriously don’t read if you don’t like this kind fuckery
I was trying to achieve a decent adaptation that combines the strongest elements of the anime and manga. It will not be precisely like either and will occasionally totally deviate from both
This isn’t meant to be “better” then the canon. It’s just the way I’d go about rewriting the Akakabuto arc if I had that level of ungodly power lol
Character designs made to represent several mentioned characters can be found here, here, here, here, and here. Others will be left up to the reader’s interpretation. A link to the next episode will also be provided at the end. If a link isn’t available, the next episode just hasn’t been posted yet!
I KEEP POSTING THESE SO LATE IN THE DAY AAAAAHHH
The Igas and Gin are frozen where they float. Kurojaki's teeth clack against the scythe's handle as he sadistically taunts them. This day marks the end of the Iga clan he says (though it sounds more like "Ish ey marsh he and ufh eh Uhguh clun.") Akame barks back someone along the lines of "OH YEAH?" before turning to the others.
The albino levels with them: four against, what, 40? Not good odds. But maybe if there was a diversion some of them could get away. Akame passes his share of herbs to Jinnai and says that no matter what happens the Ohu soldiers must receive these herbs. Even if it costs the remaining Igas their lives and their legacy, no innocents will die just because some mottled dickhead bamboozled them all.
With a final command for them to get moving, Akame vertical leaps outta the lake and busts Koga heads the minute he lands. The other three good guys exit stage right while the gettin's still good. Gin looks back, almost certain someone's gonna come after them, but the Kogas are all too concerned with chasing Akame in circles to care about anything else.
Shinobi slaying is easier said then done, turns out. Akame didn't become Chief Ninja Daddy without some skills to back the title up. He is eventually pinned down by several heftier dogs, but it takes a few minutes of him humiliating his opponents first. As payback one of the cannibals chomps down hard on Akame's hind leg and jerks it back at a nasty angle. Akame lets out a manly scream of pain.
Jinnai, Kirikaze, and that silver guy are still running back home unimpeded when they hear Akame's hollering. Kirikaze is especially affected by his old man's tortured yowls and he begins crying big fat tears of sorrow.
So overwhelmed is he by his progenitor's wails that he tries to double back, but Jinnai tackles him and tries to smack some sense into him. Kirikaze's gotta nut up for Akame's sake. This scolding almost works, but another scream from the chief threatens to break the rest of Kirikaze's resolve.
They have reason to be concerned. Kurojaki's started wiping the forest floor with Akame's pale ass, bruising the Kishu heavily and giving him a nice big slash across the throat. The cut on his neck isn't enough to kill Akame, but combined with his other injuries it's enough to sap his remaining strength from him. As Akame tries to gather his bearings and defend himself the scythe comes down across his neck a second time.
Another scream of agony reaches the trio. Jinnai and Kirikaze are still fighting over whether to save the army of strangers or their dad when Gin decides he can't stand moral dilemas involving family. He spits out his share of herbs and shoves them towards Kirikaze.
Gin tells the bros that he's willing to double back and help Akame so long as they can pull themselves together long enough to cure the Ohu dogs. As the Akita moves towards the marsh, Jinnai asks him if he's so insolent as to disobey the chief's orders.
"Akame isn't my chief," Gin states matter of factly, "so I can do whatever I want." And so he turns and leaves the two Kishus to collect their herbs and continue their journey. Before they go the two decide to come back and help the moment they deliver the plants.
Akame coughs up blood and falls limply to the ground. He's hurting something fierce. He tries to go all Mind Over Matter with his body, but he's having too much trouble standing up to fight anymore. Kurojaki cackles triumphantly. Maya is grinning in a nasty way while their son yips excitedly, too young to understand that Daddy's committing an atrocity.
Emboldened by the support, Kurojaki decides it's time to deliver the killing blow. He leaps towards the incapacitated albino all ready to shreddy, too busy to notice the other Kogas trying to stop a silver striped blur from slamming into him. Gin lunges through the air, grabs Kurojaki by the hind leg, and does an anti-gravity version of the worm that sends both of them flying to the ground. Gin lands elegantly on all fours, but Kurojaki is slammed face first into the dirt. The moment he makes contact with Mother Earth, the cannibal lets out an unholy screech.
Everyone is taken aback - even Akame is frightened by the noise - as Kurojaki continues vicerally screaming for a moment more. It's at this moment that Gin realizes he hadn't seen where the scythe's blade had landed. Kurojaki lifts his trembling head and turns to face Gin.
The blade has been buried deep into the black devil's right eye. Icky red squidge oozes from the wound and down his cheek as he heaves a shallow, rattled breath.
"You little motherfucker," he pants, his remaining eye bulging and rolling around wildly in his head.
The other Kogas are now a terrifying mix of horrified and pissed the fuck off, and Kurojaki's ready to take advantage of that. As Gin gapes in horror at the live demonstration of why running with sharp things is a bad idea Kurojaki commands his crew to tear the invaders limb from limb. He especially wants that little stripey shit's head on a pike.
Obedient as ever, Kurojaki's mohawked mooks spring into action. Gin leaps to Akame's side to protect him. A couple of especially speedy Kogas advance on them before the others, but Gin's entire bloodstream is full of adrenaline right now and he manages to pick them off easily.
Before the rest of the hoard can descend upon them, Gin snags Akame up by the scruff and leaps into the trees with him. The Kogas watch as the two make their getaway. This only serves to frustrate Kurojaki. As Maya is fussing over his sliced up face he screams for the cult to follow the two.
Unaware of what's gone down, Jinnai and Kirikaze continue their jog home. They've been making good time but are stopped suddenly when another dog they've yet to meet jumps out of the bushes before them. He's just as surprised to see them as they are to see him, and they all trip over each other.
The dog, a tempermental German Shepherd, barks that the two dipshits need to watch where they're going next time. The Kishus apologize before scampering off with their herbs.
To the surprise of no one this rude dog is John. The upstart has finally left the village to pursue more heroic avenues. This is nice, but he realizes it's not quite going according to plan when he notices several dogs of intederminate breed running up to him.
These three dogs have the decency to stop and ask if John's seen a couple of white guys with plants in their gobs passing by. John pulls an "I know something that you don't know" face and tells them to fuck off because he's not going to enable them to chase down a couple of geeks with weeds.
This pisses the mohawked mutts off, as does the fact that John stinks of human civilization. They go to give him a taste of Whoopass Stew (1992) before John recites the navy seal copypasta from memory and teaches them some humility via a few well aimed bites and mean names regarding their haircuts. As soon as they realize he's a capable fighter the trio runs off with their tails tucked both metaphorically and literally between their legs.
This is getting bizzare. John's just arrived in this forest and already he's seen two groups of oddballs he can't begin to understand.
Back at the Iga House Gin has brought Akame home. He sets the ninja chief down gently as the other Kishus come to greet them. The Ohu soldiers, most of who are feeling much better now, are also glad to see Gin is still kicking.
Gin's happy to see them as well. He runs over to where they're gathered to more properly say hello. Most dogs are back on their feet, but he can't see the tallest one of them all. He asks where Ben is before realizing by the look on everyone's faces that this isn't a question they want to answer.
The crowd parts to reveal Jinnai has finally gotten Ben to eat his share of antidote. Ben's a hotass mess, though; his eyes are bloodshot, his mouth is foamy with excess saliva, and his muscles are all twitching involuntarily. He looks miserable as he stares aimlessly into the woods.
Akatora comes over to him and offers a friendly nudge and a whispered, "Hey, you okay?" Ben simply responds by snapping at him. Akatora tumbles backwards, stunned that his old friend and mentor would react to him so aggresively.
Akame pads over to Akatora and tells him not to take Ben's bizarre behavior to heart. Ben's had bad shit in his blood longer then everyone else. It's gonna take him a second to come out of this haze.
Luckily the dane seems to be regaining his composure, for he has managed to stand up and steady his limbs. The soldiers seem mostly relieved at the sight, but Gin notices Akame is still staring at Ben in concern. Is there something he's not telling them?
While alla this was going down, Hyena had wandered off by himself and ended up being taken prisoner by the Kogas. Worse still, he's been trafficking the corpses of dead Igas into their slapshod fridge (i.e. a dank, chilly cave).
As he drags the icky, ewwy canine cadavers along, his captures taunt and jeer at him for being both a wuss and their munchie packmule. One particularly nasty looking sucker with no tail tells him to move his ass before they decide to add him to the every-growing pile of carcasses. Hyena just whines miserably and goes back into the body storage. He's just flopped down another lifeless Kishu when he hears a sudden commotion outside. He cowers far back in the cave.
"MORE of these assholes?" says a newcomer. "Jesus, these woods are full of lunatics."
The Kogas have turned to look at their visitor. Three of them point him out as being a direct threat. They'd run into this dickhead in the woods, and though he stinks of men he's more powerful then any housepet they've chomped on before. While the cannibals encircle John, Hyena pokes his head out of the cave just long enough to recognize the GSD as one of the dogs he'd seen at Ohu. What on Earth is HE doing here?
Back at the Iga house the Kishus have organized to face off with the Kogas. Enough is enough. They can't allow any more innocents to get swept up in this stupid war.
Ben is feeling more lucid now and he insists that the Ohu dogs aid the raid against the Kogas. They outnumber the mohawked mongrels together and lbr this has become personal for the troops. Akame worriedly tries to convince Ben not to subject himself or his bros to this, but the dane refuses to leave it alone. Akame reluctantly agrees to let them help and begins leading the way back to the marsh.
Ben is just behind the shinobi, but he's doing a shit job at keeping with the pack. Despite having scolded Gin for running off course, Ben keeps drifting farther and farther off trail. In fact, he's essentially in the treeline now, and a concerned Gin and Cross follow to ask him where he's going.
Ben freezes up. He takes a deep sniff and realizes he's not with the others. Everyone stops running, concerned. Akame attempts to be stoic, but his brow twitches intently.
Ben tells everyone it's nbd bruh, he's just gotta take a piss, it's fine it's fine it's cool it's fine. Akame grunts and tells Kirikaze to continue leading the pack while he checks up on the big guy. Kirikaze nods and directs the others to follow him.
The only stragglers are Gin and Cross. They're both too concerned about Ben to follow orders. The two of them sneak closer to where Akame and Ben are huddled and strain to listen to what they're saying.
Akame looks sadly at Ben as the dane stares blankly ahead.
"Ben," Akame says in a low voice, "look at me."
Ben pauses for a second as if focusing hard, then turns his head. He's not looking at Akame. He's not even close to meeting eyes with him.
"Akame?" he says with a tinge of fear in his voice. "What's happening to me? I can barely see."
Akame sighs and apologizes to Ben for all this. It's a side effect of the poisoning. Ben was doped up on the bad shit long enough that there was potential for it to do some damage to his senses. The eyes and ears are most suseptible to the poison's effects, and it seems like Ben's eyes are feeling the hurt.
Ben's shoulders slump as he softly shakes his head. He figured his sudden astigmatism and fading peripheral vision had been brought on by Akame's bioweapon. He just hadn't wanted to admit it.
Gin is shaken to hear this, but he's not as upset as Cross. The Saluki is trying and failing to contain her tears.
"He'll never see--" she says before running off, unable to stand it anymore. Gin only lets her go when he hears the conversation continue.
Ben asks if he'll become totally blind. Akame says yes. Ben asks if he'll be blind forever. Akame says yes again. Ben asks if he'll be able to keep up his duties as commander. Akame doesn't respond directly but instead tries to soothe the dane by saying that he owes Ben a great debt and will pay it forward by being his eyes.
Ben takes a moment to think before thanking the Kishu, but he has a request. Cross is ready to take his place as commander when he becomes totally incapacitated, but as she was his successor she'll need a right hand dog of her own. Akame figures that all Ben's soldiers are so jacked that any of them would do nicely, but Ben has his eyes (no pun intended) set on one guy in particular.
That kid Gin... he's a good fighter, sure, but he's also young and eager and empathetic. He's got a good head on his shoulders, boundless potential, and clearly has had some training before. Within a few months he'll be fully grown, and by then he'll make a great lieutenant. Gin only now realizes he's been holding his breath.
Meanwhile, John has made quick work of the lingering Kogas, adding those who didn't flee to the abnormally high count of dog bodies in the area. When he's sure it's safe to come out of hiding, Hyena slinks out of the cave to meet John.
John recognizes the little twerp from Ohu mountain, but he's still in Fight or Fight mode so instead of saying hi he just gears up to cream him. Hyena whimpers and begs for mercy, insisting that the Kogas took him as a POW and that he's still loyal to the Ohu army. John rolls his eyes and takes Hyena's word for it before turning to leave.
Hyena dares not be alone in this above-ground graveyard, so he follows John. The shepherd either doesn't realize or doesn't care that Hyena's his new little tagalong. They wander for a bit, Hyena taking every chance he can to suck up to John, before John tells him to shut the fuck up and listen.
The dogs fall quiet. The sound is faint, but they can distinctly hear a low mumbling, or, more accurately, the muffled sound of a crowd speaking amongst themselves. Someone literally barks a command and all the voices fall silent. John nudges Hyena to follow his lead and the two sneak closer to find out what's going on.
As they advance on the group they realize that it's more of the Kogas. The cannibals are having a meeting.
Kurojaki's eye socket has stopped bleeding and instead has collapsed in on itself, the tattered lids laying concave in his skull. He's sitting atop a boulder looking down at his cult as he gently strokes the babyhawk atop his infant heir's head.
As his son mouths absentmindedly at his father's paws, Kurojaki informs his people that now is the time to strike. They've killed several of the remaining Igas and they still have enough people to take on both the ninjas and any allies they bring with them. It's time to take the Iga homestead as their own and secure a glorious future for their breed. And as an added bonus, he thinks to himself, we can fuck up that guy who took my eye.
Hyena and John take a moment to spy on the hoard from afar. Hyena points out the big guy on the rock as Kurojaki, and it's clear as day that he's the leader of this band of hoodlums. John nods and, having learned nothing from his previous ass whooping at the hands of a pack leader, puffs out his chest and readies himself to attack.
John says he's gonna tear the whole lot to smitherines and singlehandedly lower the cannibal population in the area to 0%. Hyena tries to convince him that attacking a warlord in front of his entire legion of followers is a bad idea, but John's ego demands stroking. He's already taken off in a sprint.
The shepherd tears through several of the Kogas before they even realize what's happening. He rips the throat out of one particularly unfortunate bystander who proceeds to tumble to the ground. The miserable cur seizes wildly as he dies.
Everyone is caught so off guard by this development that they don't stop John when he walks up to the bottom of Kurojaki's perch and tells the merle cyclops that his reign of terror is over. Kurojaki has literally no idea what the fuck is going on, but he rolls with the punches and tells John that he'll be crushed like a bug before the group departs on their actual mission. Before any crushing can commence, a rumbling can be heard coming closer.
It's (predictably) the Iga and Ohu dogs. The Kogas have an Oh Shit moment before scrambling into battle position. They're a little wary of the fight given there's an absolute shittonne of dogs running towards them, but Kurojaki tells them not to be a buncha bedwetting babies and fight anyway. He passes his literal bedwetter baby son off to the boy's mother so he can join the brawl. John just shrugs and goes to attack the guy nearest to him.
As army meets army, the blood begins to flow. Despite how much larger the Ohu pack is, it's really anyone's game, for the cannibals' desperation to keep their cause alive pushes them forward. Still, the Ohu dogs are holding their own. Even Ben is managing to fight off his enemies. Unfortunately for Smith, the dane's poor vision throws a spanner in the works, and the Spaniel gets a couple of chomps on the ass. Don't worry about it, Ben, he's young. He'll heal.
As the battle grows more and more out of control, Kurojaki slinks past his men and into the woods in the hopes of baiting one particular target into following him. To his delight, that target falls into his trap; Gin notices him leaving and gives chase.
Gin's too caught up in the task at hand to notice Kurojaki's leading him on purpose, but lucky for him Kurojaki is too caught up in his own plan to notice he himself is being ambushed. Akame saw Gin following the cultist, and he's bolted out of the woods to save Gin's silver hide.
Akame smacks Kurojaki face first into the dirt and is about to give him an atomic noogie when Gin's all like WAIT. Gin lets the cat out of the bag and tells Akame he knows that Ben wants to scootch Gin up the platoon's pecking order. Gin wants to use this chance to wipe the forest floor with Kurojaki to prove that Ben's right to think that.
Akame is a touch offended that Gin's a filthy eavesdropper, but he understands his motivation. He just sorta shrugs and lets Gin face off with the warlord. Gin puts up his doggy dukes and gets the ball rolling with some fighting words.
Meanwhile, everyone else is fighting a Koga of their own and they're doing a good job of it. Even Hyena is making an honest, if hopeless, attempt at mauling one of the smaller guys. He's failing miserably when he's aided by Smith, who follows up his generously saving Hyena's life by mocking him for being a wussypants and asking him why he hasn't fucked off yet.
Hyena wants Smith and the others to appeal the No Hyenas Allowed rule of their club because he's decided to be a good guy now. Smith isn't sure if he believes him, but whatever, the traitor can serve as a canine shield if nothing else. The two continue snapping at their enemies.
As the fight rages on, John makes his presence known to the platoon by leaping beside a bloodied Ben. John manages to choke out a sincere word of praise for the other dogs' fighting abilities before more graciously humbling himself to Ben by proclaiming he's ready to fall in line with his commander's orders. Ben's newly-beshitted eyes are having a hard time recognizing John, but he'd know that stuck-up, twatty voice anywhere. He instantly welcomes the shepherd back into the fold.
Gin and Kurojaki are standing off in earnest now, but they're still not really getting anywhere. They're surprisingly well matched, Gin always managing to strike and Kurojaki always managing to either dodge or deflect. They've only faced off for a few minutes more when the rumble of a bazillion dog feet advances towards them.
The Ohu and Iga dogs have managed to subdue the Kogas and now they're bumbling towards the fighters. To make matters more dramatic, a storm has been brewing. As if called in as reinforcements a bolt of lightening strikes a nearby tree and catches it on fire. With a terrified, "Shit!" Kurojaki turns tail and runs, a frustrated Gin following behind.
But before Kurojaki can run very far, someone calls down to him from above. He breaks stride and looks up. It's Wilson, finally appearing onscreen again for the first time in a while. His long, white muzzle is rippled in a snarl, and he calls Kurojaki a gutless coward for abandoning his men. And it's not just his men he's abandoned. Has he really forgotten about...
...his own son? Wilson suddenly lifts a small, mottled bundle of fur into view. It's Kurojaki's infant child, and he's crying with fright. Though Kurojaki cannot see it, Maya's body is lying beside Wilson as well, her neck broken and twisted at an ugly angle.
Gin freezes and looks on in horror, as do the other soldiers who come to a stop beside him. Everyone wants to stop this but they're too stunned to speak. The sky rumbles as if angry, lightening flashing and illuminating Wilson's spiteful white face.
"T-tesshin!" Kurojaki cries in recognition. "My boy! What are you doing with my boy?!"
"Can a fucking demon like you truly feel love for a child?" Wilson wonders aloud. "You certainly didn't show any mercy towards mine. You've never understood the horror of what you did, but now you will. I'll make you see. I'll make you pay."
Wilson begins to shake Tesshin back and forth by his tiny grey scruff. A sickening chorus of wails and squeals comes from the baby. The other soldiers are appaled by Wilson's vengeance, as is a now very desperate Kurojaki. The Koga master begins climbing uphill after Wilson, his paws splayed far out in front of him as if trying to grasp for his son.
"Stop!" Kurojaki wails desperately. "Please, please stop!"
For the first (and last) time ever both the Ohu and Iga soldiers are in agreement with Kurojaki. They also call out for Wilson to put the child down. Gin feels helpless to stop this injustice. It's cut him to the quick more then any adult dog's endangerment has yet to. Ben tries to reason with Wilson to stop, but he's distracted by Cross. She's quaking with some overpowering emotion that's not exactly anger and not exactly fear.
Kurojaki nears the hilltop as Wilson's swinging quickens and he jostles Tesshin around like a ragdoll. The Koga leaps with an enraged roar at the Collie when suddenly the two of them are joined by Cross. Before any of them can acknowledge her, Kurojaki collides with Wilson without thinking to stop and sends both the collie and his son tumbling off the hill's edge.
Kuroj screams in horror as he sees both Wilson and the baby descend into the dark gorge below, and the army dogs join his yelling as Cross mounts the hill and descends down into the dark behind them.
The wind blows mournfully as Kurojaki stands mouth agape on the hill, staring into the black pit with his remaining eye. So busy was he with his child that he has only now noticed his wife's bloody corpse sprawled beside him. His eye fills with tears.
But the tears evaporate quickly as he's taken by an overpowering fury. He turns to the stunned soliders and swears at them, damns each and every one of them for bringing his wife and child into this. He will singlehandedly kill them all.
In a (half) blind rage, Kurojaki flings himself headlong into the gaping crowd. First he tears into the massive Moss. Then he slashes Akatora up the shoulder, gives John a concussion, brings Ben to his knees, bam, bam, bam.
So powerful is his rage that one would think he's about to make good on his promise of Ohu decimation, and for the first time the soldiers and their newfound allies start backing away from their foe. All except Gin, ofc, whose protagonist moral code is preventing him from faltering.
Kurojaki's all too willing to beat Gin's ass for causing just about every bad thing in his life lately, so he runs at Gin with reckless abandon. Both he and the Akita leap at each other. A shooting star's comet trail follows Gin's arch in the sky.
The symbolism of it is enough to trigger a convenient, empowering flashback in Gin's mind of his maybe-probably-mostly-confirmed-not-dead father defending baby Gin from Akakabuto. He remembers Riki's signature bear-hunting move, a hard bite to the top of the animal's muzzle. Thinking fast, Gin performs this move on the murderous merle mongrel flying towards him.
This catches Kurojaki by surprise just long enough for Gin to rabbit kick the shinobi bastard into the dirt, bloodying both it and his foe's face in the process. Gin lands back on Earth with an equally small amount of grace by spraining every ankle he's got upon landing. He plops down onto his stomach and quivers as his muscles relax, and Kurojaki has been knocked down hard enough that he's not yet making an effort to get up.
The other dogs run forward, panting congrats to Gin for being so awesome and stuff before they move to descend on their enemy.
John makes himself known to Gin a second later when he's like whoa hold up everyone lmao chill, this is Gin's battle and he should be allowed to finish the dude off himself. Gin's just now realized John's returned, but before he can say HUH WHAT John tells him to handle business before he's offered an explanation. Already feeling a bit overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation, Gin turns at a familiar female voice telling everyone to hold their horses.
It's Cross! She's holding a fussy but living Tesshin in her jaws. Beside her is a battered, humiliated looking Wilson. The Collie sways unsurely, totally unwilling to hold anyone's gaze.
While Wilson wallows in his post-attempted infanticide guilt, Cross sets the child down. Kurojaki is a total sack of shit, she says, but he's still this little guy's dad and only remaining parent. This decision can't be made lightly because it will always come back around to affect the kid.
Gin takes this as a chance to stall on his decision and runs over to Cross, overjoyed to see she's still alive. Cross, looking even more tired then you'd expect, gives him a coy wink. She's told him before she has a soft spot for kids, yeah? After all, she's always believed they have the potential to be better then their parents. As she says this she allows Tesshin to toddle up to his daddy and lick his bloody nose.
But it's still ultimately up to Gin whether or not Kurojaki lives or dies. The decision weighs heavily on the kid. Yeah, Kuro is a violent murderer, a cult leader, an advocate of genocide, and an all around assclown, but watching Tesshin lick his deadly dad's face with unconditional affection awakens something in Gin.
He can't shake the memories of his own puppyhood. He was taken too early from his mother and only ever got to be held by his father once before he was forever stripped of the chance to have a peaceful childhood. He's steadfast in his decision to be with these soldiers, but can he truly say he's comfortable subjecting another child to the loss of their innocence?
"Kurojaki," Gin starts. The cannibal king meets Gin's gaze with his single eye. "Get out of here. Take your people with you. Don't ever come back."
Kurojaki understands this is the only chance he's got to leave, so he picks his sorry ass up and leaps with a noticable decrease in elegance into the trees. All he leaves behind him is a puddle of nose blood... and his infant son. Tesshin simply sits beside his papa's nose goo and yips pitifully, too small to understand he's been ditched but having enough cognition to know neither mommy or daddy are with him and he's frightened.
"Miserable piece of shit didn't want the kid as bad as we though," Kurotora grumbles.
The others in the crowd can't help but agree. Some of them believe it's time to kill Kurojaki after all, but Gin tells them to lay off. This whole debacle has been a real fuck of a shit and more unnecessary casualties are only going to make things worse. So long as Kurojaki actually fucks off once and for all, that's all that needs to happen.
A new discussion begins about what's to be done with the baby when the Kai Bros finally take notice of Hyena. Akame thoughtfully dashes off elsewhere as the tiger-striped trio start telling the grey-haired square to get the hell outta here. John breaks up the bloodthirsty posse by explaining that Hyena's lowkey alright actually. John's elaboration on his experience in these woods and his opinion about the Weimaraner doesn't mean much to the Kais given they've never met him before, but Gin helpfully explains that John's an old friend of his who's come to join their ranks.
He gives John a warm, appreciative smile. For a moment he looks very much like the boss smiling proudly at all his troops. John's brow is furrowed as per ush, but he can't help but smile softly back.
But John quickly wipes the smile off his face and gets back to business. Yeah, sorry about leaving the pack initially and all, but he had a bit of self discovery to do. Ya see, John went and battled with the boss. Surprised at his insolence, he's now got the attention of everybody there.
Anyway, John tried to beat the leader into submission, but he failed spectacularly and for the first time he can remember. The experience taught him something he's still too proud to state clearly, but the important thing is that it motivated him to come back. Oh, btw, the big guy himself has a message to share, generously saving the audience from further elaboration on events they've seen take place:
Akakabuto's stronghold is expanding further, and, though on a forgivingly smaller scale then the Ohu dogs, he is also attempting to grow an army of followers. The sonuvabitch may be a horrifying monster, but he ain't fuckin' stupid. He is aware that a massive hoard of dogs are coming to get him, so he's setting up counter measures to stay one step ahead of them. The troops have to hurry and expand their numbers fast, for the battle is rapidly approaching. It's only a matter of time before Akakabuto and his bears begin overtaking human settlements.
This is all well and good, like thanks for the update and all, but everyone becomes distracted by the unmistakable smell of shit burnin' down. Cross is the first to notice the orange-gold light and incredible heat illuminating the woods beyond. The dogs rush over to see what exactly is happening.
It's the Iga manor. The ancient house is quickly going up in flames, much to everyone's surprise. Even more Nani? inducing is the culprit of the mansion toasting himself, Akame.
The Kishu is standing unwavering in front of the burning building. He's grasping a burning tree branch in his mouth, no doubt having gotten it from the tree that had previously been smoldering. The night sky is alight with storm and flame alike as Akame's children run up to him and ask him what the fuck he's done.
Turns out Akame's just tired of the bullshit. He's tired of constantly having to hold off the violent cannibals they have as neighbors. He's tired of living separate from those who could serve as close allies and true friends. He's tired of leading his sons and daughters into battles they cannot win.
Fuck the house, Akame's turning a new leaf. From now on he'll be dedicating his power to the Ohu army's cause and he encourages the remaining Igas to come with. At least then their ability to whoop ass will be useful beyond gang wars.
"Akame!" a ragged voice hollers from somewhere in the woods. "You little coward!"
Everyone looks. It's Kurojaki, his mottled fur caked in dry blood, his single eye bulging. He runs over to the Igas but he doesn't make as if to attack them. Instead, he just keeps yelling, his thoughts spilling like vomit from his mouth.
Akame just HAS to be this extra, doesn't he? First Kurojaki loses his wife. Then his own child is used to humiliate him. And now Akame is burning down the one solace he had left, swiftly destroying his life's mission of overtaking the manor. With one last gibbered out swear Kurojaki leaps into the burning house.
The smell of roasted kindling is quickly laced with, then overpowered by, the stench of burning hair and melting flesh. Kurojaki screams bloody murder as the flames engulf him. Gin gazes into the abyss of Kurojaki's one eye before it pops, bubbles, and oozes down his cheek, its gooey remains soon joined by his eyebrows and the last fringes of his white mohawk. Despite his agony the mongrel makes no effort to escape the flames, instead collapsing without struggle on the immolated wooden floor.
If this whole sight wasn't fucked enough, a whole chorus of desperate cries also approach the house. It's several of the remaining Kogas all hollering out to their leader. Loyalty may be a virtue, but the outpouring of devotion from the cult leads each and every one of the mohawked dogs to leap into the flames alongside their master.
Upon realizing the hoard won't stop making like they're campfire marshmallows, Gin tries to stop them. He's just shoved out of the way. The only Koga who neither leaps into the flames or runs away is baby Tesshin. Instead the child begins nestling into, oddly enough, Wilson's ankle as he watches his family burn to death.
Akame squints into the flames as the Kogas' agonized screams fade away. The cloudy night sky finally starts drip dropping rain down on the scene and working quickly to extinguish the house. Once the flames have subsided everyone gathers to stare into the wreckage.
Gin takes the first step into the charred remains of the manor. The blackened, crumbling corpses of so many canines litter the floor. Gin hasn't felt like crying this much since his first beating from Gohei, but something physically holds him back. He lip trembles as he looks from the bodies to Akame.
Despite everything the shithead put him through, Akame, with poise unmatched by anyone on Earth, respectfully wishes that Kurojaki and his people could have dedicated themselves to a cause that wasn't so heinous. He also wishes that they may now rest in peace. Many years of anguish and war have lead up to this point, but if nothing else it served to prove that Kurojaki had a lotta resolve.
Now that nobody's gonna come in the middle of the night and kill them dead the group allows themselves to settle in and get some shut eye. Everyone is curling up beside each other when Wilson awkwardly walks up to the hoard. Tiny little Tesshin follows behind him.
Wilson seems especially interested in speaking with Gin, who is nestled in between Ben and Cross. While the Collie coyly bows respectfully to Gin, Tesshin recognizes Cross and runs to her so he can tug on her ears.
Wilson apologizes for the whole almost-committing-infantacide thing. He's deeply ashamed of how low he stooped to strike back against his Kurojaki. Now that he's gotten to see him die in literally the most painful way possible, Wilson hasn't got any ill will towards any Kogas anymore, least of all the only truly innocent one. He accepts that what he did was super shitty even if he'd been blinded by immense grief. He wants to do right and contribute to something that matters, so he'd like to know if everyone - Ben, Cross, Gin - would allow him to stay with the pack.
Nobody responds for a moment, though Gin makes as if he wants to say something. Instead the first to speak is Cross. She tells Wilson that despite the immorality of his behavior she understands his pain. She takes a deep breath and places her paw over Ben's, which seems to have signaled him to lean soothingly against her. Cross begins explaining to Wilson - and Gin, just cause he's there - what her life was like before she joined the Ohu army.
Cross was, as most of the folks here were, a hunting dog. She met Akakabuto once or twice out in the wild, but it took her a while to stand off against him in earnest. Before then she had been bred to another Saluki (Ben politely doesn't say anything to this) and had a litter of puppies. She was blessed with the chance to raise and live with her children into their early adult years, but this is Ginga so her backstory wouldn't have been brought up if it'd stayed idyllic forever.
Her master brought her and her 2 year old children along on a hunt one day when the group was met with the pants-shittingly horrifying sight that is Akakabuto. The bear struck one of Cross's sons across the face, snapping his neck and killing him instantly. Cross and her other children tried to defend themselves and their owner, but one by one her kids were brutally murdered.
The only reason Cross herself survived was because when Akakabuto struck her across the back - the thing that left the scars she bears to this day - she took a fall so hard that she couldn't get up and he believed her to be dead.
All throughout this battle Cross and her kids had been looking desperately to their master for help, but he never given it. While they'd tried to defend the man with their lives, he had been running away and leaving them for dead.
Akakabuto eventually grew bored of the dead dogs and left them behind. When she felt some degree of safe, Cross had crawled over to each of her children's corpses and wept into them.
For a while Cross had nothing much to live for. She didn't care about her owner anymore - in fact, she hated just about the whole of humanity at this point sans one human child who had once fed her while she was wandering aimlessly - and her children were all dead. The only thing that kept her going was her hatred for Akakabuto, her burning desire to see him pay for what he'd done to her.
But she had never been a stray before, and despite her strength it was hard to make ends meet. She barely ate enough to fill a cavity most days and she was quickly growing weak, emaciated, and depressed. She'd felt like giving up.
It was around this point when a red and white Akita Inu had found her. At first she had been afraid of him given he was a wild-looking, battlescarred character with an unreadable face, but he'd shown her a kindness she hadn't felt for a long time. He'd lead her back to his pack, an impressively large collective of other former hunting dogs, and told them that she was their guest. They were to treat her with kindness and feed her back to health before letting her go.
The soldiers were mostly nice to her, if a bit awkward regarding her emotional state. Most of them were dudes and the chicks in the bunch were more about biting and killing then offering any TLC. There was one dog who was especially kind to her, though. His name was Ben (Ben smiles and twitches his ears at the mention of his name), and he was an extremely noble, involved dog who lead the first platoon. She and him instantly clicked, and so they became fast friends.
Cross quickly regained her lost weight and, with Ben's help, regained her lost muscle mass... and then some! So grateful was she for both Ben's kindness and the boss's generosity that she insisted she stay with the pack. She humbly requested membership to the first platoon, promising that she could keep up with the others. She even offered to train under Ben's supervision if need be.
The leader had smiled at her and responded with a gentle nod and a twinkle in his eye. The rest, as they say, is history.
So engrossed in Cross's story was Gin that he'd barely noticed when Wilson laid down beside them. He also didn't really notice when Ben told Wilson that he was welcome so long as he used violence as a means of achieving peace, not as a means of releasing his anger. Nor did he notice when Tesshin wobbled over to Moss and his son and was happily invited to spend the night tucked between the pudgy Mastiff's enormous paws.
But he does notice when Cross winks at him and tucks herself tightly against her doghusband, and he takes this as a sign that storytime is over.
Gin settles in beside his friends to sleep, now better understanding the depth of their devotion. As he dozes he imagines Riki (or, at least, the dog who looks a shittonne like Riki) offering shelter to a boney Cross, training up gentle giant Ben, and lovingly smiling down from his perch at his ever-growing pack.
He imagines the Riki Dog smiling down at him, too, and reaching out a paw to him. Before he can imagine himself touching paws with the boss he fades into a deep, dreamless sleep.
At the buttcrack of dawn the troops head out. They're now joined by John, Wilson, the remaining Igas, and even Kurojaki's little son (who Moss has begun happily carrying around in between the folds on his back). The mission to find more soldiers continues on, and all the dogs begin the journey southward to scope out more canine meatheads for their cause.
Bust out the water wings, folks, because the troops are headed to the seaside. Gin's never seen the ocean before, so he's super weirded out by so much water in one place. John considerably refrains from mocking him for not knowing what the sea is and explains that crossing the ocean is necessary to reach different countries. Given that John once lived in some mysterious land called Your Up, Gin takes his word for it.
The gang boards an abandoned ship half submerged in the ocean. Gin takes a chance to gaze over the edge and into the water below. His eyes sparkle with curiosity as the waves wash to and fro before the boat.
His gaze follow the waves as they go out and out and out further and further away, the expanse of water stretching out miles ahead. Also miles ahead is a mass of land that looks no larger then a grain of rice. Gin excitedly calls out that he's found a foreign country.
Wilson politely tells Gin that he's got a good eye, but that's not a foreign country. It's just Shikoku. Ole Willy used to travel there frequently during his circus days, and it's also where he met nomadic Mortal Enemy #2.
Before Wilson has a chance to elaborate, Ben interrupts. He closes his foggy eyes and takes in the sounds of the waves before saying that yeah, Shikoku's pretty lit. Lotsa bodybuilder types over there, dogs specifically bred and raised for battle. This fills Gin with the sort of glee that'd seem excessive in a hyperactive schoolgirl. Gin begs the dane to let him go on a field trip to Battle Dog Island.
Everything is a blurry mass of God-knows-what in Ben's eyes, but even he can tell Shikoku is a long ways away. He asks how exactly Gin plans on getting there, to which Gin responds with, "Swimming, of course." This is foolish, obviously, as doggy paddling that far through these waters would be impossible. Ben kindly but firmly tells Gin that he'll be just as much help in gathering troops here.
Ben turns with a degree of finality back into the captain's quarters, his face turning redder then normal as he bonks his muzzle into the doorframe. Despite his upset at being denied permission to abandon ship Gin follows after him in concern when Wilson calls him back.
He tells Gin that he's sorry the kid can't come, but Ben knows best. Gin disagrees - he HAS to go. It's his duty to take Ben's place on the trip, for the newly disabled dog won't make it very far in these conditions.
Several of the dogs seem confused about what this means before Gin passes around volume 3 of the manga and catches them up to speed on how Ben's poisoning has started sapping away his sight. As some of them "ohhhhhhhh" in realization, Smith chimes in with a haven't you people ever heard of not leaving the commander of a platoon behind.
John insists that Gin's a tough cookie, perfect to take Ben's place. So long as he has his immaculate bestie beside him, ofc. He'll be going with Gin, too. Not wanting to be left out, Smith also insists on going. So do the Kai Bros. So does Wilson.
Cross looks as if she wants to say something, but she restrains herself. Gin notices and asks her if she'd like to Come Along by Cosmo Sheldrake. She unconvincingly says she'd love to but she can't leave Ben alone in his condition. It's pretty obvious she's keeping something from everyone, but before they can pry she trots off to join Ben in his quarters.
Smith mutters about how he thinks Cross has been looking a little differently lately but he can't quite put his paw on how. Gin doesn't say anything. Instead he just watches her leave.
Nighttime comes right on schedule. The Ohu dogs are sprawled across the poopdeck, pooped from their travels. Most of them are asleep, but some are only pretending to snooze.
Gin is one of those fakers. He slowly and quietly gathers the other pretenders to join him towards the front of the ship. He has a moment of hesitation before leaping into the water when he sees how aggressive the waves are tonight, but he tries not to show any doubt. This has to be done.
Just before he's about to go, the ever-so-gentle scrapping of claws on wood directs his attention behind him. The gathered gang looks back and sees the Igas are also awake and eager to join them.
Akame feels it's his responsibility to lighten Ben's load in this regard. He'll be leaving the near-sighted dog in the care of Papa Moss. Besides, God only knows what the dogs in Shikoku are like, so why not bring a ninja along just in case? Finally satisfied with the group's size, everyone gathers their courage and jumps into the ocean.
Huge black and blue waves toss the dogs around as they struggle to stay afloat. Smith hesitates at the boat's edge upon realizing what sorta Jackass stunt they're pulling here, but he can't back out now. He gives a loud squeak as he cannonballs into the water.
John's rolling his eyes and mocking Smith's masculinity from the boat when he realizes that he can see a pair of eyes glimmer from nearby. Someone is awake and moving towards them! "Oh shit," John manages as he leaps gracefully in after the others.
Turns out that the nosy parker was just Cross. Upon seeing everyone abandon ship she comes trotting, then running, to the deck's edge. She can just make out the shining wet fur of the dogs in the ocean. She hopes aloud that they'll make it.
A confused, groggy voice from behind her catches her attention. She turns to see that Ben has woken up. Moss is trailing behind, a still snoozing Tesshin draped across his broad forehead. Ben asks Cross what she's doing awake. All is still. The silence speaks volumes, and Ben realizes that Gin has taken off in one of his hare-brained schemes again. Cross is about to defend the kid's decision when Ben sorta just shrugs and sighs.
Ben figures that when someone like Gin gets an idea in his head, he won't abandon it. He'll either learn his lesson the hard way or live to do them all a great service, and Gin's proven time and time again he's not likely to up and die on them. Besides, the dane admits, he kinda wanted to ask Gin to ride (swim?) shotgun anyway, but he couldn't justify asking the youngest troop to do it. Though Ben can't see the dogs swim away he still looks out towards the sea.
The dogs swim for a longass time, paddling in their namesakeway as the waves threaten to toss them into space. Shikoku both is and isn't as far away as they imagined, and this eats away at their patience while they grow more and more tired. Gin is capable of leading the charge given his childhood waterboardings but he's also losing steam.
The only thing keeping him moving is the sliver of moonlight above. When the partial moon is intercepted by the clouds, the shape it forms bears resemblance to Riki's silhouette atop his Throne Hill. Gin can't let the big man down.
After a while the dogs come across a reprieve from their struggle: a tiny island, little more then a small hunk of muddy, sandy land sticking up out the water. Shikoku isn't much further now, but the whole lot is swung out. There's just enough room on the puny isle to allow everyone refuge for the night.
The dogs all adorably snuggle up beside each other to keep warm against the cold ocean winds. As Gin rests his head across John's shoulders he takes one last peek at the moon. The Riki Clouds have vanished. He just sighs and closes his eyes.
Night turns to day and things are getting interesting in Shikoku. A nationwide dog fighting tournament is in full swing, making everyone reading this instantly a little less comfortable. In this particular fight, two Tosa dogs named Niouryu ("Nio dragon") and Musashi ("master warrior") are duking it out to a screaming crowd of weirdos who like watching dogs sumo wrestle.
Musashi's gotten the drop on Niouryu and is clearly winning via attempted strangulation. For the sake of saving Niouryu's life and so as I never have to write that name again, the fight is broken up and Musashi is declared winner.
This is very exciting news for the Musashi fans in the crowd because it means that the dude has won the Dog Wrastling championship for the 2nd year in a row. True, he's working his way up from middleweight to heavyweight, but this ain't no small potatoes. Musashi's unmatched prowess is celebrated as he is donned in traditional championship garb. The dog proudly holds his scarred head high as he gazes wistfully into the distance. His nose twitches as he detects something strange on the wind.
Musashi's trainer takes him back to his kennel alongside several other competitors. All of the dogs, Mushie Boy included, begin barking, seemingly alerted to something nearby. Musashi's trainer doesn't know what to make of this so he leaves the kennel to go snooping around in the hopes of finding the source of the dogs' intruige.
Unseen to all but the fighters' noses, the Ohu dogs reveal that they've made it to Shikoku by posing mysteriously atop the high stone wall surrounding the kennels. Gin gazes down at Musashi. They GOTTA get this guy to join the army.
The Ohu dogs climb down from the wall and disappear into the nearby woods until the sun begins to set and all the humans are gone. The kennel dogs have just settled in when the same smell from before recaptures their interest. Musashi growls but refrains from barking when he sees three synchronized silhouettes approach his cage.
"Who is it? Who's there?" Musashi says with all the confidence of a lion who's punched God to death.
The shadows whisper in low voices that that's not important right now. What is important is that Musashi agrees to come with.
Musashi doesn't feel like missing bedtime so he tells them to fuck off. One of the silhouettes, the one missing an ear, tells him that if he doesn't willingly join their canine convoy they're gonna force him to. Musashi demonstrates that this is an incredibly stupid thing to say to a fighting champion in a way that surprises the trio. He knows how to open his kennel and he's feeling cranky. He grabs the one eared dog as the stripey group tries to scatter.
Luckily for the Kai Kens the other kennel dogs are barking up a storm, all jerring and yelling FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT. This noise would serve only as an irritant if it didn't cause someone, a human, to call out in confusion. A light inside a nearby building turns on.
Moments later the circular beam of a flashlight can be seen from the other side of the yard. Musashi has an Oh Shit moment and releases the dog he's holding. He tells the three that he's impressed by their ballsiness, but if they wanna live to see another day they need to pound pavement.
The dogs seem less afraid of Musashi's threats then they do of the man with the light. As the man calls out to the dogs the three brindles scramble out of the yard, each making a beeline for the treeline. Once he's certain they've left, Musashi meekly sits down and waits for his master to come find him. The man joins him within a moment and scoffs, scolds Musashi for breaking out again, and finally leads the dog back to his kennel.
The Kai Bros (btw it was so obviously the Kai Bros who came aknocking on Musashi's door) start heading back into the forest, kicking pebbles in their path and muttering about how it sucks ass that they didn't successfully kidnap someone to fight a war with them. As Chutora and Kurotora begin detailing just how much ass the situation sucks, Akatora tells them to shut their yapholes and hide. Someone - a LOT of someones, it smells like - are following them. The brothers dive into the bushes.
An asstonne of quadrapedal silhouettes dot the hills nearby. The strangers smell unfamiliar and are poised as if they mean business so Akatora tells everyone to head back to Gin. His littermates start whining about how running away isn't very cash money of them but Akatora nips them on the backsides to move them along. By this point he wouldn't have needed to put tooth to butt. The pack has descended from their vantage point and is headed straight for them.
The trio takes off in a gallop as tens of angry looking dogs, all barking and yelling for the intruders to stop, give chase. Kurotora's got a terrible Napoleon complex going on so he gives up running and instead tries to fight some of the dogs away. This backfires phenominally badly because the pack swiftly overpowers him, then overpowers his bros when they come running to his defense. Manly, agonized screams ring out in the night.
Somewhere insultingly close by Gin and his coterie have noticed the commotion. John proposes that sending the most overzealous and tactless of them to convince a champion fighter to leave his home wasn't a great decision. Though Gin realizes he fucked up by doing this, he's too proud to show the embarassment he feels for his idea. Instead he just tells everyone they oughta go see what the screaming's for so as to make sure they're not down three soldiers.
The troops head deeper into the forest, each keeping their eyes peeled and ears open to see if they can find the disappeared brothers. The Igas try to contribute to the search by leaping through the trees and ahead of the pack. The thick smell of an unfamiliar group lingers in the air, but no one can be seen.
No, wait, there is someone there. A sliver of moon shine casts a dim spotlight over a muscular dog carrying something red and black and striped all over. It's Musashi! He's got a concerned look on his face and a busted up Akatora stretched across his back.
"I'm guessing the Kai brothers didn't convince you to come peacefully?" Smith asks, the urge to alleviate the situational tension clouding his manners.
Musashi shrugs and allows Akatora to slip from his shoulders and onto the ground. Gin quickly looks over the Kai Ken as John snaps at Musashi for doing this to their friend. Musashi's eyes grow wide and spiteful. He tells the dogs to lay off for chrissakes. Believe it or don't, he's here to help. Akatora agrees in a choked voice; Musashi rescued him when he was too injured to save his brothers.
Gin asks Musashi to explain what the shit's happening so the Fite Club veteran lays it all out. The triplets were attacked by a pack that lives in these here parts, a pack that's lead by a dastardly bastard whos exploits encourage gossip even among the most seasoned of fighting dogs. This aforementioned bastard goes by Bandit Bill, and he's a notoriously brutal brown doberman who lives in an abandoned Buddhist shrine. He's a territorial sort and was probably upset that a buncha insolent strays came piddlefarting around his domain.
Before Musashi goes on about Billy the Kid he gives a broken smile and says he'd gone to follow the obnoxious brothers upon realizing that they might have ties to the giant army of dogs that's been growing and moving across Japan. Gin gapes, somehowhaving been oblivious to how a nomadic collective of dedicated troops might catch the populace's attention.
Musashi states that he's glad the army seems real because it means he can be flattered at how they've come to recruit him. Bee tee dubbya, he's totally down to join them. He's been a fighting dog long enough for it to get dull. The old man is ready to live out the rest of his life as one big adventure.
A second later a white dog drops down from the trees. It's Akame here to say that he and the other fair furred folk have managed to locate Chutora and Kurotora. The good news is that they're still alive. The bad news is that they're in front of a weird, ancient looking monument swarming with buff-looking dogs. Musashi confirms that that's Bill's pad, though he doesn't understand why Bill would keep trespassers around instead of just killing them.
Gin immediately announces a rescue mission. Musashi tells everyone to hold their horses. He's gonna go home and bring back his posse to help sort this out. Bill isn't a bloodthirsty idiot - standing in front of him isn't a death sentence - but he needs to know these guys have backup. It'd also be easier for locals to get information outta him as opposed to new guys from across the sea. Better to talk then fight, yeah?
Musashi departs while warning the troops that it'll be a hot minute before he busts open all the kennels at home, but he swears he'll be back by morning. Given there's not much they can do til Musashi gets back, the dogs set up camp for the night. The night seemingly passes without incident, and the crowing of a rooster can be heard as the sun rises.
Wait, did I say rooster? Oopsie! I meant Smith starts shrieking to the other soldiers that OH SHIT, GIN IS MISSING. John wakes with a start at his friend's name, and as soon as he's truly concious there's no doubt in his mind as to where Gin is.
Predictably Gin has run off to solve this problem by himself. Only this time he has a moment of self reflection. He realizes aloud that he very often ends up helping, yes, but he also has the habit of tying situations in big, complicated knots by making decisions on the fly... just like he's doing right now.
And yet he can't say he feels remorse for it. He doesn't have the time to. He needs to save his friends. He needs to prove himself to Ben. He needs to do this to protect the village, the people, his family, his Daisuke.
The ancient monument, Bill's Bandit Bed-n-Breakfast, is lookin' pretty eerie in the shady woods. The only thing that makes the dark, imposing forest more intimidating is the two dog heads sticking out of the dirt smack dab in the middle of the monument's front yard. It's Chutora and Kurotora, and both are exhausted from struggling to escape their halfassed graves. A deep, slimy voice cackles triumphantly as something lithe, black, and endlessly shitty exits the building.
It's General Sniper! The bastard merrily licks his lips as he watches the Kais struggle to free themselves from the Earth's unwelcome hug. Mr. S is just about to go on about how great he is or some shit when a dog from Bill's pack, one who had totalled the Kai Bros, runs into view and tells him there's an issue. They have a visitor, someone none of Bill's crew has ever seen before. Sniper runs to the arch out front.
Gin's parked his little silver ass just in front of the arch and is refusing to explain to any of Bill's soldiers why he's here until he has council with Billiam The Bad Guy himself.
"I am a representative of the leader of Ohu," he says in the deepest voice he can muster, "and I shall tell you no more. Please allow me to speak to your boss."
"Oh, no, I don't think that's going to happen," Sniper says snidely.
Gin is surprised to see the hoodlum here, but Sniper doesn't explain himself. Instead, his brow crinkles cruelly as he repeats what Gin said: so, he's here to rep for Ohu, huh? Got himself a promotion, ey? How charming.
Sniper turns to Bill's men and explains that this stupid kid's boss is a tyrant trying to take over Shikoku's prime real estate, ignoring Gin's protests and cries of What The Hell Dude. Bill's men approach Gin to tackle him, but Gin leaps past them before they can.
Gin continues to frog-hop his way onto the front lawn where he's shocked to find two of his compadres buried alive. Little Chu and Kuro, Too yell at him to get out, it's a trap! But Gin's too stubborn to listen. He ignores their pleading begins trying to dig them out instead.
While Gin is distracted, Sniper launches himself into the Akita and sends him flying. Gin quickly rights himself, his nose bleeding, and swears aloud while telling Sniper it's unsportsmanlike to strike from behind. The little German chickenshit better be ready to fight because his treason will not go unpunished.
Sniper yells a barrage of death threats at Gin as if all of Twitter is rushing through his veins when he hears one of Bill's men call for everyone to retreat. Sniper looks up and dumbly utters a confused "Huh?". The Ohu dogs have caught up to Gin, and they're here to stop this madness!
Sniper tells Bill's troops not to puss out of a fight. They've got enough dogs to rival these suckers. The troops comply and the fur starts to fly. For a moment it seems like the Ohu dogs will be able to swiftly end this battle. Unfortunately, they lose the upper hand just as swiftly.
Sniper has made his way over to Kurotora and he's got his fangs pressed up against the black brindle's jugular. He mumbles through a mouthful of dog neck that the Ohu folks must surrender to The Bill Brigade or else he'll start killing the helpless hostages. Gin blurts out for the Ohu dogs to stop fighting without a second thought. Sniper responds by telling his ex-army not to move or else the stripey guy gets it.
Bill's fighters take this as a chance to start beating the shit outta the now motionlss soldiers. Gin's eyes fill with tears of frustration and realization at the severity of the impossible situation before them. Before anyone can die, however, someone else comes in and smacks Sniper so hard he flies back a few feet.
It's another Doberman, a brown and tan one with sunken eyes. This other pinscher says in a deep, silken voice that Sniper can kindly fuck off with this sadism. Bandit Bill can handle his own intruders, thank you very much. Besides, he doesn't believe in killing for the fun of it. If Sniper wants to be his right-hand man he needs to respect the rules of Bill's domain.
Sniper half-snarls, half-whines to Bill about how all is fair in love and war. Gin tells his cliche ass to shut up because the Ohu lads aren't here to fight. They're here to ask for help.
Before any more nonsense can go down someone calls ahoy from the arch. It's Musashi! The big man has kept true to his word and has brought tens of his fighting buds with him, many more dogs then the Ohu guys knew lived in his kennel. Indeed a small army of Tosas trail behind Musashi-sama as he steps up to greet Bill.
Mushmush asks in the voice of a gossiping old biddy if Billy has heard of these guys. They're bear hunters with good intentions, ya know. Bill says that yeah, he's heard about the bear stuff, but their former general here has a different story to tell.
Gin insists Sniper is a big fat stupid ugly liar. They're not here to steal land or dominate Shikoku or whatever, they deadass just need soldiers for their cause. Musashi interjects by saying he's not one to get involved in work place drama. To him it seems the real issue is that Gin and Sniper need to settle a beef they've been fostering. Bill appreciates the sentiment (as well as any chance he gets to watch a good fight), so he agrees. Let these two handle this shit the old fashioned way: with tooth and nail.
Gin licks the tacky, drying blood from his nose and dives at Sniper so as to get this party started. Sniper catches him off guard and sends him flying into a tree's trunk. Gin starts scrambling to his feet but he's not quick enough to dodge Sniper snagging him by the scruff of the neck. John almost rushes forward to intervene when Akame restrains him and assures him that they can save Gin if it comes to it, but they'd better hang back in case they upset Bill.
Sniper wildly moves his jaw around and leaves big bloody slashes across Gin's neck, his teeth fumbling around the kid's collar. Realizing he can't tear Gin's throat out with the big leather slab in the way, Sniper has another idea. He tells everyone to watch what happens when you fuck with Mr. S as he gives Gin's neck a hard squeeze and an even harder twist. All the dogs gape in horror as they hear a bizarre, powerful snap. Sniper releases his grip on Gin's neck and the Akita tumbles to the dirt.
John swears loudly. He wastes no time in detailing how he's gonna shove Sniper's ass down his throat when a weak cough makes everyone aware that Gin is still moving. Even Sniper is surprised as the dogs watch Gin hobble to his feet.
Blood is oozing from Gin's clearly not-broken neck. Just before one can say "wait so like what happened", Gin's leather collar slips off his shoulders and hits the ground with a small thump. A white tear in the leather ring explains the strange breaking noise.
For just a second Gin is lost in the memory of when he was given the collar. It wasn't Gohei who'd bestowed it upon him. It had been Diasuke. The boy had said that it had once been worn by Gin's dad, which may or may not have just been a cover for a convenient purchase from Pet Smart. Regardless, Gin silently thanks Daisuke for giving him protection he didn't even know he had, and he thanks God himself for giving him the massive muscles he needs to tear Sniper a new one.
And tear he does, for he begins giving this asslancing all he's got. He runs rings around Sniper, leaps down upon him from the trees, and finishes off his display of hypermasculinity by swinging the Doberman from a hind leg until the pitiful would-be dictator cries out for him to stop.
Gin does indeed stop, but not without placing a humilation cherry on this assbeating sundae. He swings the pinscher into a branch of a tree. When he lets go all can see that Sniper's dangling from the branch by his spiked collar.
"Shit! Damnit!" Sniper howls, defeated. "Let me down! Someone let me down!" But nobody comes to his aid. Either they're too stunned or, like Smith, are laughing at the ridiculous sight. Bill takes Sniper's dangling very seriously, though, and he calls up to Sniper that he's ashamed to be the same breed as him. Then he turns to Musashi with a smile. He would be giving a slow, polite clap if he had hands.
Gin relishes the moment by boldly telling Sniper to never show his ugly mug again because he's the one dog alive, the one dog in the whole world, who Gin will never forgive. The youngin gives the stuck up commander one last chance to fuck off and live peacefully elsewhere. Sniper only responds with more swearing and even more desperate pleas for help.
Gin thanks Musashi for his backup. He's about to thank Bill too when the Doberman takes a step back. Oh no, he's not getting buddy-buddy with anyone yet.
Musashi looks like he's about to roll up his non-existant sleeves and convince Bill otherwise when the dobie explains: Bill would like to meet this Ohu Boss guy himself before deciding if he's gonna join anyone else's army. He's willing to go with, but no promises on whether or not he'll be killing any bears.
Gin figures this is as good as it's gonna get, so he nods and welcomes Bill into the fold. John playfully elbows Gin in the side. This is all well and good, but it's about time to get back to Ben, yeah?
Before everyone can start planning the cruise back, Musashi stops them and gives them a tip. There's an even stronger dog who lives out here, some dude who's rumored to be the strongest in the world. The Ohu troops look intrigued. Some of them excitedly ask Gin if he'd like to meet this superdog. Of course Gin's like HELL YEAH. The dogs all depart, leaving Sniper cursing and swaying from the tree.
And so all three of the packs (the Ohu soldiers, Musashi's crew, and Bill's cronies) join together and start their trek to meet the world's strongest dog. Next stop: the city of Uwajima. Gin allows Musashi to show them the way, but he can tell by how his men fall in behind him that they're really taking his lead.
Gin can't help but feel a warm sense of pride well up inside him. He hopes he can be as good a commander as Ben. He hopes he can do right by the Ohu leader.
After another day long road trip the dogs emerge panting from the forest onto a cliff overhanging a seaside city. Seemingly having remembered all the times Ben refused to speak up about his own prospective recruits, everyone quickly asks Musashi to describe the dog they're after. Musashi's less reserved then Benny is so he settles on his haunches and launches into a story for the ages.
Benizakura ("crimson cherry blossom") is his name, and dog fighting is his game. The dude is an astoundingly tall and muscular Tosa Inu mix as well as an honored veteran in the fighting world. Legend has it he was born 10 years ago in Japan's snowiest mountain region. He was born to two village mutts of unknown ancestory and for a while he was a simple housepet. That was before he turned 2, at which point his master realized there was money to be made off of him after having seen him tear a cheeky village dog he hated he limb from limb.
By the age of 3 Benizakura had effectively dominated the dog fighting championships. He'd body slamming his way through medium, then large, then heavyweight dogs one by one. He traveled all over Japan and had made his mark on history by never losing a single fight. It came as a surprise to nobody when he finally entered the running for the nation's top canine yokozuna (highest rank in sumo wrestling.)
When he'd clawed his way to the big leagues, his greatest opponent was Japan's then-current champion yokozuna. This dog was an equally imposing purebred Tosa named Tsuna Arashi ("rope storm"). Tsuna was no spring chicken - by this point he'd been about 8 or 9 years old - but he'd spent the last 6 years of his life claiming and reclaiming his championship title. Though it was apparent upon their first meeting that Tsuna respected Benizakura's perserverance, the champ had no intention of letting the younger dog take his glory.
Musashi says that this fight was one for the books which I guess makes it highly unfortunate that dogs can't read. Hell, even the wet-behind-the-biceps kids Musashi used to train would recount it with awe.
See, the two dogs' gameness had been admirably strong. They'd never once relented in their assault of each other. Not when their muscles began to quake, not when they drooling bloody spittle, not when Benizakura's ears had been torn to ribbons. Kick, bite, snarl, tear, claw, throw, strike.
Their faces wet with blood and their muscles failing, neither dog refused to give in. And because of that the match's thirty minute time limit came to an end. No decided victor could be decided between them.
Tsuna Arashi was carted away by his master and Benizakura was left in an exhausted rage. He hadn't won. He hadn't even lost. He'd gotten nothing. Nothing at all but a face full of scars and two ragged stumps where his ears used to be.
Time passed without much incident for Benizakura as he continued his training at home. He still had the respect of his peers, and the dude was as strong as ever. His ears couldn't be saved, but they could be cropped, and so his master gave him a battle crop so low his stumpy little ear nubs were almost flush with his skull.
After a few more months of training Benizakura's owner suggested a rematch against Tsuna, but the dog's owner declined. Tsuna was an old fart by now. His eyes were riddled with cataracts, he had developed diabetes, and he was ready to retire. And so Benizakura was blue balled cruelly by fate, never managing to win himself that championship from his greatest foe.
Musashi pauses for a moment before Gin asks what happened after that. Musashi continues his tale of whoopass woe by detailing that, being a dog and not having the context to these conversations, Benizakura never stopped itching for a chance to beat Tsuna Arashi for real. He'd continued his training, continued his hoping.
Three years later just before his 6th birthday, Benizakura finally felt ready to try again. When he came to realize Tsuna would never return on his own accord, Benizakura had busted out of his kennel and gone to find Tsuna himself.
Benizakura crossed water and shore and forest to find Tsuna Arashi, and eventually he did. What he found horrified him. The blind, elderly dog was locked in a pen and being chewed up and spat out piece by piece by the next generation of fighting dogs.
Tsuna Arashi had become a miserable bait animal biding his time til one of his master's newest pupils got too overzealous and handled him just a little too roughly. The sight stopped Benizakura's blood cold. It was then that he'd realized that if he stayed in the fighting game this would be his future, too.
Enraged at the injustice of it all, Benizakura leapt into Tsuna's pen and killed the other dogs, their humans looking while the beast of an animal ripped their livelihoods apart. And this is what they would call him from now on: The Beast. A fitting name given his mauled appearance and massive stature.
But Benizakura either didn't notice the humans screaming or he didn't care. Covered in blood, he'd merely leapt out of the pen just as swiftly as he'd leapt into it, this time leaving a dazed and confused Tsuna Arashi behind.
Since then Benizakura hasn't returned to his OG master. Hell, the only evidence that he may still be alive at all is the fact that Uwajima locals catch a glimpse at him now and again. The Beast has become a sort of Japanese Bigfoot. Though the muscleman lives as a cryptid nowadays, Musashi swears by his belief that The World's Strongest Dog is still alive. The hard part will be finding him.
Meanwhile, back at the ship the Ohu dogs have claimed as a temporary home base, Cross has been left in charge because both Moss and Ben have had to take off due to pressing circumstances. Cross is pretty miffed at being left behind, but Ben had just assured her that her service is appreciated and he'd be back in a jiffy.
Problem is that several jiffies end up passing by as Cross waits and she's getting tired of leading troops on simple hunting missions. These dogs can take care of themselves without someone telling them how to hold down the fort. But what about Gin?
Gin's nearing 2 years now, but he's still so young and has so little experience. Dogs don't have cell phones or group chats so there's really no way to tell how he's doing. And so Cross nudges a subordinate named Luke, a speckled pointer mix, and tells him to take care of business while she gets the scoop on the wayward pooches.
Luke seems bashful in accepting, trying to murmur out something about how Cross might not be in the best way to brave the sea, but Cross won't be having it. She says her goodbyes and then dives into the waves. The tide has settled exponentially but the ocean still does a good job at knocking her around.
While Cross is boogie boarding, Wilson and Gin are poking around the peaceful streets of Uwajima. Most of what they see is quiet, amiable people going about their business, but there is one especially loud something happening nearby. Gin says it sounds like a lotta hooplah for boring city stuff, but Wilson disagrees.
Willy had once traveled here when his circus made its rounds in Shikoku and, if memory serves correctly, bull baiting is a common sport in the region. That's probably what they're hearing now. He assures Gin it's not worth getting involved - bulls don't fight bears - but Gin ignores him and goes to see anyway.
The two make like everyone in this damn story does and stand atop a hill overlooking the bullfight. It's a big runny-aroundy event taking place inside a wooden pen surrounded by hooting, hollering humans. Several of them are cheering for someone called "Don", and in the pen with a very pissed-off bovine stands an absolute unit of a dog.
Gin's eyes widen as he examines the pooch: massive Ginga pecs, Tosa Inu mix, ears cropped almost flat against his head. It's him. It must be him. Benizakura. Wilson tries to explain that Musashi said Benizakura is more like a sasquatch then a regular sports enthusiast, but Gin just excitedly grasps at Wilson's fluffy white chest and tells him to look, look! As the two watch, the dog, presumably the aforementioned Don, uses all his chunk to snag the immature bull by the neck and flip it over using its center of gravity against it. The crowd goes fucking nuts, and too Gin is beside himself with delight. Wilson concedes that maybe, just maybe, this dog IS the strongest in the world.
Someone in the pin comes and separates Don from the bull. As he does so a young boy comes running up to grab Don by the neck and shower him with praise. The old dog seems pretty pleased with himself, holding his head high as the onlookers cheer.
Wilson's not entirely convinced this dude is Benizakura, but he does believe that the army could use this veritable canine tank in their ranks. He asks Gin how he proposes they get the Hulk Hogan of animals to come with. Gin deadass just takes off in a run.
Wilson calls out to Gin to slow his roll, but this roll ain't stoppin' anytime soon. Gin leaps over several gawking onlookers, each one alarmed and confused. Then the Akita aims right for Don while yelling, "Forgive my rudeness, Benizakura!"
The old dog falters, confused. He poses as if ready to take a blow from Gin, but no blow comes. Instead Gin pulls the canine equivilent of a pantsing and yoinks Don's collar from around his neck.
Don's boychild seems insulted that Gin dare makey his dog nakey and demands he drop it, bad dog, spit it out. Don stands growling at the Akita and Gin stands growling back in return. Gin's worried for a split second that this dude might really just be some random guy, but his fears fade when the old dog snarls through a face full of scars, "Who are you? How do you know my real name?"
Gin smiles around the collar in his mouth as he's overcome with relief. But he doesn't get more then a moment to enjoy having found the living legend because the big guy is running towards him, scolding him for his unorthidox greeting and offering him a similar one in kind. A huge white paw lashes out at Gin's face, smacks him silly, and throws him off his feet.
Wilson watches in a panic on the hill. He wishes he had either backup or a unicycle so he could fix this mess. Benizakura Confirmed lashes a paw out at Gin's face once more, only this time Gin has the foresight to brace himself against it.
The crowd seems stunned that a dog only 2/3rds "Don's" size could stop his strike. Wilson is equally surprised. So is Benizakura.
Upon remembering that they paid to be here, several people in the crowd encourage the new Little Guy to give his all against "Don" while others encourage the sumo vet to snap the youngster over his knee. But Benizakura doesn't do anything escept look intently into Gin's eyes, staring like he means to find something.
Gin smiles his soft, goofy smile once more and tells Benizakura this is what the lawbooks call a case of Pinch, Poke, You Owe Me A Coke. He only struck Benizakura once. Benizakura has struck him twice. Big Man owes him a free hit, and he'll be coming back for it later.
Benizakura seems first confused, then insulted, then confused again by Gin's forwardness. And with nothing more then a wink and a duck, Gin leaves Benizakura behind, foot raised and jaw slack.
Gin leaps back out of the pen and joins Wilson. The crowd goes nuts once again, this time because they're all wondering what the shit they just saw. Wilson and Gin quickly depart.
The Collie scolds Gin for putting so many human eyes on them. Gin says he'll explain why he did what he did later, but for now they need to let everyone know that The Beast lives. Not only that, but he'll be expecting to see Gin again.
On a familiar shoreline, a white mass of hair is lawling miserably around the sand. The fuzzy mop turns out to be a dog, and the dog turns out to be Cross. She didn't stop and take a break like the other dogs but instead swam until she'd reached Shikoku. Her unusually wide sides heave as she coughs up sea water. She tries to settles down for a second, but her ears don't follow her lead. They perk up when she hears a commotion nearby.
Her legs are killing her, but she hobbles to her feet and sways tiredly as she follows the sound of someone - no, several someones - speaking. One of the voices is high and desperate while the other two are deeper and more threatening. As Cross slinks into a hunting crouch, she sees who's doing all the yapping.
A long dog of very small stature is being encircled by two much, much larger dogs. The short king is a Dachshund. It seems like he's trying to look tough while being harassed by the two taller bullies. The big dogs are peeved that weenie boy wandered into their territory, and now they're making like they're going to eat him.
Though she's tired enough to sleep for a week straight, Cross's unyeilding sense of justice refuses to let her rest. She leaps towards one of the dogs and cracks him upside the head. She stands over the living hotdog and snarls at the two, telling them to beat it, beat it. But neither of them wants to be defeated, so they ready themselves to fight.
That is, they ready themselves to fight until realizing that Cross is a bedraggled woman. They pause to laugh at the absurdity of what they believe is some homeless chick saving a manlet from assault before Cross sinks her teeth into one's neck and begins shaking.
These dogs are little more then overgrown puppies, maybe 2 years old at most, and though they're nasty little things they're not very good in a fight. "Hey, lady, stop! Let Beth go!" says the one Cross isn't ripping holes in. The dog in her grasp, presumably Beth, begins whining and crying, obviously not used to real fights.
"Okay, okay! We'll go, we'll go! Please stop!" Beth whimpers submissvely. Cross lets him go with a loud grunt and swears at the unruly teenagers as they make a break for it.
Cross pants as she watches them go, and suddenly she's back to feeling weak. The adrenaline has all but left her system and her righteous power has been turned to a mushy lightheaded feeling. She turns to the little dog to see he's smiling gratefully at her.
He thanks her for her help, though he assures her he definitely could've handled the delinquents himself. She smiles back at him. She asks him what he's doing out here and he responds in a way that surprises her.
The Dachshund explains that he's heard about a roaming pack of dogs playing military, running their own corps and organizing men to battle a man-eating bear. He hopes to join those dogs and prove himself just as capable as any warrior, but his training hasn't been going so well.
He sighs dreamily as he imagines aloud how wicked it'd be to be one of the cool kids. All the cool kids, they seem to get it. It being fame and glory, of course.
Cross's smile grows encouragingly as she tells the little dude to keep at it, for he's bound to contribute to a good cause someday if he keeps that attitude up. He thanks her, then tells her that it's time for him to get back to training. Maybe this time he'll stick to killing squirrels instead of chasing down bigger dogs.
She asks him for his name, and he grins a broken smile. Oliver is his name, and he's pleased to make her aquaintence. After Cross shares her own name Oliver enthusiastically lets her know that if there's ever anything he can do to repay her for her good deed, all she needs to do is give a howl.
As Oliver waddles off, Cross's smile quickly fades. She's not feeling too hot. She's been put under an unusually large amount of strain lately and hasn't allowed herself a moment of rest. Something in her stomach cramps up. She's been puking a lot lately and it looks like what little she has in her gut is coming back up. She tosses her cookies all over the forest floor as the lightheadedness comes back.
She tries to stumble away but her head is too foggy. Her legs give out under her and she rolls to her side upon realizing just how long she'd been at sea. She allows her eyes to close as she breathes in deeply. So distracted by her tiredness is she that she doesn't notice when a long, dark shadow falls over her.
Back in Ohu, the boss is facing off with not one but two oversized red-backed bears. The unusually beefy animals don't intimidate the boss, but their origin does cause some concern. These two are beary obviously assassins sent - and fathered - by Akakabuto himself, the types of visitors the Akita has gotten very used to in the past couple of months. Clearly Redhead isn't happy with an especially jacked dog keeping his troops from more human BBQs. Whatever dude, it'll take more then a couple of homicidal teddies to down this masterful bear killer.
Actually, check that: it takes a couple teddies doing something unexpected to down him. The two big-boned barbarians combine their powers to knock a goddamn tree over and roll it the boss's way. Captain Canine is able to dodge the attack, but he can't do so without leaping over a lump of debris that's blocking his path. Turns out that bear ninjas and dog ninjas have something in common, as the poor dog learns first hand that bears understand the concept of pit traps.
There's no skewers this time, but as the leader tumbles into pit the uprooted tree trunk comes rolling in after him. He gasps and tries to get out of its way, but it's too late. The trunk hits the bottom of the pit with a loud WHAM. The sound of splintering wood and a yelping dog meets the twin terrors' ears.
The assassins grin between themselves. Yes. Finally. The Ohu leader has been defeated. The army will soon crumble, and Akakabuto's reign will be unstoppable.
But enough of alla that, I know what you people really came here to see: John yelling at Gin for making a rash decision! Yes, ole Johnny Boy is annoyed that Gin plans on not only finding Benizakura alone, but wants to leave the rest of the troops hanging back while he does so. Like, Gin, dude, you have an army of walking powerhouses and you don't want their backup against The Strongest Dog In The World Trademark All Rights Reserved?? Especially after the bastard hit you in the face twice???
Various dogs begin barking their suggestions. Gin should beat the shit out of the old fart for disrespecting him (so says the Kai Bros), and Benizakura would be outnumbered and thus forced to comply if everyone ganged up on him (so says Bill.) Gin politely speaks up with a deliberate, "Be quiet," which gets everyone to settle down. Akame clears his throat and nods to Gin, clearly having something he's gotta say. Gin bows and gives the Kishu the floor.
Akame explains that given neither Ben or Cross are here, the next commander in line is Gin. He admits that Gin is young and his decisions are brash, but he can't recall any time Gin's pigheaded determination didn't end with the Ohu dogs getting what they wanted. Besides, it's probably for best that the kid doesn't wanna face this with violence. You don't convince people like Benizakura to join you through ass kicking alone, and if there's one thing Gin's proven he can do it's convince people to be cool.
Gin's face is flush with relief as he quietly thanks Akame for his support. Musashi also agrees with the white guy's elaboration. He tries explaining things from a fighting dog's perspective.
If they all go in to kick Benizakura's ass, he'll just fight them off til he can't fight anymore. They'd just be another challenger, nothing more. But no matter how good a dog is at fighting, he's still just a dog. There is always a side to him that's soft and doughy and vulnerable to what he feels is important. Suddenly becoming aware of himself, Moss peers up at the top of his head where a tiny Tesshin is curled in a ball.
Gin allows Musashi to finish what he's saying before going on to explain himself: it's childhood rules, guys. He hit Benizakura once, Benizakura hit him twice. Ergo, Gin gets one free punchy. Smith laughs and elbows Gin in the chest, guffawing about how the baby of the team would find a way to skew such simple, immature logistics to work on a hardass like Benizakura. This plan is crazy... so crazy........ that it just might work!!!
A while later Cross finds herself on the wooden floor of an old barn. She rubs her face to clear her eyes of grit. Once her vision is clear she sees that she's not alone in the room. A dark shadow of what seems to be a massive dog is sitting before her, its eyes shining as they catch the room's sparse light. The stranger asks her in a crumpled, kind voice if she's doing alright.
Cross's brain finally reactivates and she's all like OH SHIT. The dog before her is an aged Tosa mix, his jowls greying and his face smattered with scars. But that's not nearly the worst of it, she realizes, because it turns out she's been chained to the wall.
She scrambles to her feet and demands to know who this random senior citizen is and why she's stuck in her own private Hotel California. Oldie barely reacts. He just gently informs her that his owner is willing to care for her. She'll be safe here.
As Cross pries desperately at the metal stake chaining her up - no dice - the mutt explains that she's lucky to have been rescued. She'd been delirious, mumbling strange things in her sleep about bears and wars. She also mentioned something about Shikoku, which, spoiler alert, is where she is right now.
Cross finally stops fidgeting and lets this sink in. So she made it after all. She's so glad at the prospect of finding the others that she stops struggling and smiles to herself, then to the other dog.
She gingerly thanks him for saving her, like really she's super grateful and all, but would he mind letting her off this chain? She's on a mission. The dog does not offer to set her free, but he doesn't not offer it either. Instead, he just says that she needs more rest.
Besides that, he's become very curious about her circumstances. What in God's name is she doing out here? So gentle is the old dog's gaze that she heaves a sigh, sits on her haunches, and begins describing Akakabuto to him in livid detail. And then she continues to tell him about the boss, and Ben, and Gin, and the sea, and then something much more recent.
Everyone who didn't leave with Gin was just chilling out in the woods one day hunting some food and determining where they'd go next when a scout they'd sent off, a black lab named Kurobe, had returned with some pretty shitty news: all of the platoons sent up north had been killed, wiped out in one fell swoop. Speaking of being wiped out, Kurobe was also bleeding heavily from deep lacerations. She'd collapsed in a heap before Ben before her breathing had ceased. Kurobe had died soon after.
Livid over the gruesome sight, Moss told Ben that it was time to get serious about his fucky eyesight and get to either an optomitrist or a veterinarian in a nearby human village. Ben wanted to argue, but Moss pushed that there wasn't much time left before the final full moon. Something had to be done about the slain soldiers.
Besides, how was Ben to lead his platoon if he couldn't see? Cross had looked at Ben, part of her hoping he'd stay, part of her hoping he'd leave and return with his vision intact. Ben had decided to leave.
Moss and Cross had discussed what to do. They'd want a small base camp for Gin and the others to come back to, but someone would need to head north to sort out the whole mass murder thing. They decided that the dogs should be split between the two platoon commanders available, those being Great and the newly promoted Cross.
Cross had then elected to hang around the dock to regroup with Gin and welcome back Ben when he returned. Better yet, she'd take a day or two to lead Ben to a village herself. Moss had buckled at the suggestion, asking warily if she wouldn't prefer to stay with Ben at the doctor's.
Oblivious, Cross had said that'd be excessive. She could stand on her own four feet without her man, and the hubby would want someone watching over his troops. Then her face fell, her cheeks stinging with embarrassment. She'd noticed Moss looking at her distended belly.
"You should resign when you can," Moss had said sympathetically. "Take it easy til then, but resign when you can. For your family's sake."
And with that he had departed, had followed behind Great as the dane had directed half the dogs away. Cross had stood shaking from both frustration and anguish before Ben trotted up and reminded her that he had a hot date with an eye surgeon. She'd just gritted her teeth, licked his face, and led him through the woods.
The old dog had been listening very intently to Cross this whole time, and even now she could tell he was paying her mind despite his focus being outside the shed. The dog remarks that this has all accumulated in her coming to find some scruffy punk kid with tiger stripes, huh? Well, he doesn't believe in guarantees, but he can promise her that she'll be seeing that kid soon. Cross cocks an eyebrow high enough to count as a Dreamworks audition before realizing what he means.
Not 50 feet from the hut is Gin, his nose to the dirt. Cross notices him as he gets closer. She wants to call out to him, but the old dog cuts her off. He says that he understands why Gin's doing this - he'd done similar rash things when he was young - but he won't be going easy on him. If the kid wants a fight, then a fight is what he'll get.
Cross is concerned about a heavyweight champ punching the shit outta a teenager so she tells the dog to fuck off with that idea. But of course he doesn't. Instead he says that if the Akita wants to die for his cause, then he will.
As Cross struggles to free herself Gin pads lackidasically into view. He calls out to Benizakura and lets the old meathead know he's here for that second hit. Cross gives up trying to loosen her chain and tells Gin to make himself scarce before his head gets lumped in.
Gin's surprised to see her and asks what she's doing here, but she just continues to tell him to get away. By it's too late. The old dog, Benizakura, has climbed onto the roof of the shed, and now he's plummeting down towards Gin. He lands inches in front of Gin. Gin boldly tells Benizakura that he wants him to join the Ohu army. Benizakura's like dude, we've had plenty of exposition for the day. He already knows what Gin's here to do.
That said, The Beast isn't going to abandon his cushy life as a bullbaiter because someone asks him nicely. If Gin wants him as an ally, he'll have to convince him. Gin says he agrees to a fight, but on one condition: if Benizakura pummels him into an early grave, he has to promise to take Gin's place in the army.
Benizakura accepts this offer without hesitation. He shows the exact same amount of hesitation when he grabs Gin by the neck and throws him like a football. This surpises Gin so much that he can't do anything but take the L.
Cross tries to escape the shack by pawing at a wall covered in loose boards, but she can't quite seem to make them break. She looks out at the two brawlers in a panic. Benizakura continues his assault on Gin by headbutting, kicking, biting, and finally throwing him into the side of the hut.
Cross doubles back from the wall as Gin smashes through it, splintered wood flying in all directions. When the dust settles Cross can see that Gin might have met his match. He's bleeding from the face and ribcage, and his eyes are rolling around without focus.
Cross commands Gin as his superior to leave immediately. Dying like a showoff isn't going to help anybody. Gin stubbornly picks himself up, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, while Benizakura looks in through the new window he just installed.
"Get back out here!" the Tosa demands. "You think you're tough? You call yourself a man while you're in there cowering behind a pregnant woman?"
Gin never received a birds and the bees talk during his younger days so it never occured to him that Cross's rapidly growing ponch was the result of her and Ben's alone time instead of her taking seconds during meals. Cross pulls away from him as if ashamed. She says she didn't tell anyone because she was worried they'd think lesser of her for being with child. None of the other chicks in Ohu's ranks have let this happen.
Feeling awkward but sympathetic, Gin tells her that she managed to get here fulla babies so clearly she's not as weak as she's worried everyone would think she is. Before he can further reassure her, though, he remembers what he's here to do.
Gin climbs out of the wall his spine obliterated and tells Benizakura that he refuses to leave until The Beast joins him. As he nears Benizakura, Cross climbs out of the wallhole and chases after him before she's clotheslined by the chain. As Cross flops around in desperate rage, Benizakura takes a moment to look at Gin's bloodied forehead.
One of several massive scars he hadn't noticed before has split open on the kid's forehead. And yet Gin's still here, still standing before a muscleman who has broken dogs' legs like toothpicks. The kid snarls in determination as his forehead blood runs into his face.
Benizakura is distracted for only a moment before snapping out of his stupor and lunging at Gin again, but that pause was all Gin needed to plan his next attack. It should be familiar to Benizakura given he invented it. Making like he's Benizakura and Benny is a bull, Gin snags the Tosa by the flabby skin of his neck and uses his massive weight against him to fling him off his center of gravity.
The two leave the Earth behind for a nanosecond before Gin slams the dog, a monster 3 times his own size, face first into the Earth. Blood gushes from Benizakura's nose as he falls into a heap.
Cross has ceased using her words and is barking like a maniac, but nobody but the three of them is listening. Benizakura wriggles on the ground as Gin looks over his shoulder at Cross. His face says "hell yeah" but then his body goes "oh no" as Benizakura rights himself and slams as hard as he can into Gin's side. The Beast pins Gin to the ground with one massive paw on his neck and the other on his rib cage. Gin squirms violently and Benizakura stands over him panting and swaying. He seems to be... smiling?
Yes indeed, the bull of a dog is smiling ear to ear. And then he begins to laugh. His laugh grows into a bellyfull of guffaws and snorts, his eyes squeezed shut in hysterics. His laugh is as coarse as the rest of his voice, but there's no malice in it. He genuinely sounds like he's heard the funniest joke of his life.
Beizakura sits back on his haunches, still laughing, and allows Gin to get up. Gin doesn't understand if this is an insult or a mental break. Cross is so confused she quits yapping. Benizakura finally stops his chortling and wipes his eyes dry of tears.
The old dog proclaims that this was great. It's been a long time since he'd felt so alive. To think he'd almost forgotten what fighting other dogs was like! He thanks Gin for the fun and says that he'd intitially thought Gin was just some punkass kid who'd grown too big for his britches. But he understands that Gin's got real dedication.
And if he's the youngest in his army's ranks - woof! The other troops must be just as amazing. So sure, he'd be happy to live out his winter years fighting alongside the Ohu dogs. Why not?
Gin's jaw falls open in a dopey looking smile of its own. He's kinda amazed that this whole thing actually worked. While he catches his breath, Benizakura pads over to Cross.
"Benizakura, thank--" she begins, but he politely cuts her off.
"So formal, you people," he says. "Just call me Zak." And with that, he uses his powerful jaws to yank the chain from Cross's collar. The thin but sturdy metal loops snap in half.
The three are just about to head out when the door of the nearby house opens. Everyone stands surprised as the boy who was with Benizakura at the ring steps out with a large bowl of dog kibble. He seems confused and asks his dog Don what's going on. He watches as the Akita and Saluki run away, and then panickedly follows when the Tosa joins them.
"Don!" the child cries out. "Where are you going? Don't leave!"
Gin notices this mildly underwhelming goodbye become a melodramatic one as the boy trips and spills the food he was carrying. Benizakura pauses and looks back for one last time. His gaze meets the boy's, and the child begins to cry tears of confusion and hurt.
Gin's own eyes glaze over as the sight fills him with a sense of familiarity. The child's desperate face reminds him so much of Daisuke's. Is this how Diasuke felt when Gin left? Was it worse given Gin took off without saying goodbye? Gin doesn't know. All he knows is that it hurts to watch the dog give the boy a solemn smile before turning away forever.
Cross lopes up beside Gin and they wait as Zak catches up to them. The boy is still calling out and blubbers desperately. Gin's wet cheeks match Zak's. The old dog isn't so proud that he hides his pain, and he simply chokes out his desire to leave. The others nod and lead him away.
Gin lags a few feet behind as his thoughts jumble with memories of Daisuke. Gin had forgotten how much he missed his boy. He'd forgotten the last time he'd felt like a dog instead of a soldier.
The dogs slow their pace. This allows them some time to share their thoughts with each other. Zak is pretty broken up about leaving his boy. He's not so steadfast in his decision to fly the coop anymore.
Gin pauses thoughtfully before sharing his own experience with the Tosa. Gin had to leave his boy behind when he joined the army too, and it was one of the toughest decisions he'd ever had to make. Even though it hurt him in a way he's never been hurt before, he did it because...
Gin pauses as his eyes well up. The other dogs wait for him to finish his thought. Gin chokes on his words as he says them, but he still manages to spit them out.
"But I had to leave him because I knew it was the only way I could keep him safe. Because if we succeed, he'll never have to face that kind of danger again."
Everyone falls silent. Cross's eyes are wide as she takes in Gin's words, and Zak's face is stony before he nudges Gin's side encouragingly.
"Okay," is all the big guy manages to say. "I understand."
But the waterworks gradually subside and Gin's focus shifts back to the mission at hand. After running for a shorter time then you'd expect, the trio meet up with the Ohu dogs in the area.
Everyone is very impressed to see The Beast in The Flesh. He's impressed by them, too, and he quickly takes on the role of everyone's surrogate grandpa by telling them stories from the good ole days and calling them variations of "whippersnapper." The strongest dog in the world easily finds comraderie among his fellow punchy people. While he worms his way into everyone's hearts, Cross meets up with Musashi, Bill, and their comrades.
This vacay has come to an end, so everyone goes to cross the sea once more. Benizakura chauvinistically offers to help Cross carry her pregnant self across the waves, but she blows a raspberry at him and jumps in before she has to answer any questions about what he old dude said regarding pregnancy.
This will be the last bit of goofing before the journey back because oh my god there's a lot to do when they get to shore. Ben has to be retrieved, John is set to lead some of this gang to find more soldiers, Moss's crew up North needs to be checked on, and, most importantly, everything must be organized before the end of the month. That's when the war will truly begin, and everyone will have to contribute.
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AND SO THE SERIES CONTINUES. Just two more episodes after this one, get ready for ‘em. They should both be up before the end of the month. Also keep your eyes peeled for something else, visual stuff this time, that’ll be coming shortly too.
Episode 6: The Battle
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I AIN’T NEVER DID THIS BEFORE
Pairing: Yoongi x Hoseok
Genre: smut (oral), some graphic language,
Word count: 3k
masterlist
The pen was monotonically hitting the surface of the desk, the sound it made getting lost in the sea of voices that filled the classroom of the last period. Yoongi couldn't wait to get out of school, the day seeming a thousand hours long. It was now spring, which meant school was almost unbearable, everyone waiting for the summer holidays already. Yoongi too couldn't concentrate on any school work, the sun brimming brightly in the sky, early birds chirping, fresh summery wind distracting him from anything else.
Of course, it wasn't the only thing that has been distracting him recently.
Yoongi wasn't the most popular kid at school, you could say he fit in with the masses, trying not to stick out too much. For him, the school wasn't the place for friendships, yet he made one exception and that was Jung Hoseok. When Yoongi first came to school, Hoseok was the first person he talked to and the first real friend he made. Hoseok always treated him nicely, their friendship improving over the years as they both grew closer to each other, both letting their walls down. The thing with Hoseok was, that even though he was quite a popular guy in their school, he never pretended to be anything more than an average student, treating everyone as his equals. To this day Yoongi still gets surprised by the fact that the boy is his friend. All of these things were great and Yoongi certainly was very grateful for a person like him in his life, but that wasn't the reason why he was so distracted. He knew that he will eventually start liking someone, or feel incredibly drawn to a person, but why did it have to Hoseok? That's right. For the past few weeks, Yoongi found himself feeling weird when he is around the boy. He would constantly get nervous and wary, every compliment coming from Hoseok making him blush. He kept catching himself staring at his lips whenever he was talking, their weekly sleepovers now tragically painful for Yoongi, unholy thoughts bracing his brain while all they were doing was sleeping in the same bed, as friends do. Unfortunately, Yoongi couldn't find the way to solve this problem, so he took the easy way deciding to avoid the boy as much as possible. Sadly his decision brought him even more misfortune as Hoseok soon caught on and requested they spend the whole weekend binge-watching movies at his house. It was currently Friday and Yoongi tried to mentally prepare for a constant aching of his heart. A loud bell could be heard in the classroom, making everyone rush out of the class to which Yoongi just sat in his place waiting for everyone to get out of the class so he could exit calmly.
Dragging his feet forward Yoongi made his way towards the bus stop, the only wish that he had was to plop down on his bed and let it swallow him whole. He was almost at the bus stop when he felt someone ruffling his hair. As he was about to kill the person with his death glare his eyes caught a glimpse of who was Hoseok, giving him his usual carefree smile, making Yoongis expression change immediately, his lips forming into a content smile.
"Heading home?" Hoseok asked, his breathing still fast from catching up to the boy.
"Yeah, maybe I should really stay in to-" Hoseok didn't let Yoongi finish, his finger now resting on Yoongis lips. "You're not running away from me sweets, not today" Hoseok replied, earning an angry scoff from Yoongi to which he replied with a cheeky grin. Teasing Yoongi was definitely one of his favorite activities.
For Hoseok it wasn't necessary for the boy to sleep over at his throughout the weekend, he just wanted to know what was wrong and knowing Yoongi, he realized he will need more than a day to finally crack. Hoseok cherished their friendship greatly, that's why such behavior truly scared him. He didn't know what or who provoked such behavior from his side, but he was set to find it out.
The two of them got into the bus, Yoongi sitting down next to the window making Hoseok sit down next to him, which to Yoongis surprise was really close, making their thighs rub against each other. See a normal person, wouldn't think much of it, such type of skinship being normal between friends, yet it was the only thing in Yoongis mind for the whole ride. Yoongi was aching to touch him, to feel his soft skin against his fingertips, to brush his hand through his hair and so much more. Hell, he didn't dare to think of getting touch by him, he knew he would go completely insane if he did.
-
A squeaky nagging sound of Yoongis ringtone woke him up from his slumber, making him wince. Right after the boy went home he decided to take a nap, in hopes that it would maybe lead to him oversleeping his plans with Hoseok, however, the red-haired boy was as stubborn as always.
"Hello?" Yoongi replied in his husky voice, his eyes still closed, trying to savor the last moments of sleep.
"If you're not by my house in ten minutes I'm seriously going on a killing spree to your house" Hoseok replied in an exaggerated tone.
"Geez Hoseok, have some decency, I was sleeping" Yoongi replied, not phased by the boy's outburst.
"Good. Now you'll be able to stay up for the rest of the two nights we're gonna spend! Can't wait for you to come, I already ate two bowls of popcorn by myself and it's definitely leading to obesity, hurry!" Hoseok exclaimed and hung up, leaving the boy sprawled out in his sheets.
He is in for a long night.
-
It was a bit over four hours that Yoongi has showed up at Hoseoks house with a huge pizza and a few rental movies. The two of them have so far watched two movies, both of them becoming a bit lazy from laying on the sofa for so long.
"Ahh, I really didn't think that getting bored of watching movies was an option" Hoseok sighed, adjusting the pillow under his head. Yoongi hummed in agreement, trying to come up with better alternatives.
"Well we could always watch something else, that isn't a movie, you know", Yoongi added, looking up at Hoseoks eyes for confirmation, to which Hoseok raised his eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with newly developed curiosity.
"Like what?"
"Well you know... we could watch something on Youtube or maybe a live stream? There are also some good podcasts with visuals and-"
"Let's watch porn," Hoseok said, in the middle of Yoongis sentence, making the smaller boy freeze in his spot, his cheeks darkening a few shades as he still tried to swallow the fact that Hoseok literally suggested them to watch other people having sex. Together.
"U-uhm... porn?" Yoongi asked, not trusting his voice.
"Yeah! When I think about it, it's so weird that we never watched porn together, everyone watches it with their friends when they're young. Come on Yoongi-ah do you really want me to believe you've never watched it?" Hoseok asked, his voice full of disbelief.
To be honest, Yoongi has never really watched porn before. Not because he was against it, it just never crossed his mind. That's why the situation was even scarier. Yoongi didn't know how he will react to it, let alone watching it with Hoseok.
"Oh my god, you seriously haven't?" Hoseok chuckled, disbelief coating his features. To find a person like that was more than rare. "That's even better, I can show you the good stuff first. What are you into? " He smiled, already connecting his phone to the TV and opening his browser, typing in the websites Yoongi never heard about.
"I don't... I'm not sure" Yoongi replied, his shyness getting the best of him.
"Okay then, I will just show you whatever that I personally watch. I do indeed have a few favorites", Hoseok replied already clicking on the video. The screen suddenly went dark, two incredibly attractive men showed up on the screen. It started out slow, two of the males kissing passionately, their hands wondering through each other bodies. Yoongi felt the way his breath became uneven, his jeans becoming just a bit uncomfortably tight. He glanced at Hoseok, who seemed as normal as ever as if he was watching regular TV. The same actions in the video continued for a few more minutes until one of the guys dropped to his knees, taking the other guys hardened member in his hands, spreading the precum all over the length. The action made Yoongi bite his lip, his eyes running between the two guys on the screen, not sure which one was more satisfying to watch. He wanted to touch himself so bad, so fucking bad, but he couldn't, he was still aware of Hoseok who was sitting right next to him.
"Have you ever done something like that?" Hoseok asked, his voice now lower and almost inaudible, yet loud enough for Yoongi to able to hear it.
"N-no, but I really want to" As soon as these words left his mouth Yoongi wanted to punch himself in the face for letting such words leave his mouth. He was thankful for the lighting of the room that was now dim, it was easier to hide his flushed cheeks. He couldn't even look at the boy. The room went silent again only to be filled with filthy grunts and moans coming from the TV. Yoongis eyes suddenly snapped to the side as he heard Hoseok letting out a sound he has never heard from him before. It was the purest and lightest moan he has ever heard, He noticed that the boy was palming himself through his sweatpants, his member already looking rock hard under his touch.
"W-what are you d-doing" Yoongi spoke out, not able to stop looking at the sight in front of him.
"I'm sorry Yoongi, it just feels too good to stop" Hoseok let out, his gaze looking at Yoongi through hazy eyes, his head slightly tilted back, the muscles of his body now tense. Yoongi stared at boys crotch area, his fingers grabbing the material of the cushion, itching to get closer to it. Hoseok's body always looked great, but he never saw it this way. His legs were lazily spread on the couch, the material of his sweatpants tightly wrapped around his thighs that looked so tense, so firm. His upper body was lifting up and down from the heavy breathing, his baggy white shirt revealing the side of his neck, small beams of sweat already appearing on his skin. He looked so ethereal, so needy of someone's touch. To Yoongi he was irresistible.
"Can I help you?" Yoongi asked, surprising himself with his own words. Hoseok looked at the smaller boy again, his eyes even though content with the boys request still holding a shocked expression.
"Are you sure? You don't have to do anything you don't want" Hoseok reassured, hoping that the boy didn't just say that because he was feeling uncomfortable.
"I-I said I wanted to try it," Yoongi said, slightly lifting his body up from the couch and just a few steps away dropping to the ground in front of Hoseoks lap.
"Then I'd love that sweets" Hoseok purred, lightly lifting up his body to slide off his sweats down his legs along with his underwear, his erection slapping to his stomach. Yoongi's eyes hungrily wondered over Hoseok's bare lower half. He knew that this wasn't going to help him get over his feelings rather making it harder for him (all puns intended) to resist him, he was walking into a burning fire and he was fine with it. He wasn't going to let this chance slip away. He looked at Hoseoks throbbing dick and licked his lips, his eyes traveling up only to meet a pair of eyes looking back at him intensively. That was the moment when he understood that he had no idea how to give a blowjob. He didn't want to make a complete fool out of himself and this was the only option.
"C-could you teach me how to..." Yoongi trailed off, his eyes never leaving Hoseok's. Hoseoks glance that was full of desire changed to a soft one, the adorable boy in front of him getting the best of him.
"Take it in your hand and stroke it" Hoseok replied with a command, his voice full of control. Yoongi obeyed, leading his hand forward, his small hand taking hold of Hoseok's member. His thumb went over the tip, drawing small circles over the tip, just like he saw in the video. His hand started going down along his shaft, and then going back up, earning a hiss from Hoseok. Yoongi continued the action, enjoying the deep breaths coming from the red-haired boy.
"G-grip it tighter" He breathed out, feeling an insane amount of pleasure just by this small gesture, Yoongi's fingers wrapping perfectly around his length. Yoongi complied, adding more pressure to his grip. He started quickening his pace, causing the boy to moan out loud, his moans so pure yet so sinful, setting every nerve in Yoongis body on fire. Hoseok's hand suddenly touched Yoongi's in order to stop him. Yoongi looked confused, afraid he might've done something wrong.
"Did I do-"
"No, you did nothing wrong love" He stopped Yoongi, his hand that was resting on his thigh now traveling to rub Yoongi's cheek, quickly pulling his face closer to his in for a short sweet kiss. "I just want to cum with your mouth around my dick", he said, his breath hitting Yoongis skin.
Yoongis view became hazy, the feeling he imagined for so long now happening in real life throwing him off guard. He got closer to Hoseoks heat, his breath now fanning on the sensitive skin of Hoseoks length. Yoongi stick out his tongue, licking a line along Hoseoks dick, making the other boy wince. As his tongue went up his dick, giving it cute kitten licks he suddenly felt a pair of hands tangling in his hair and with one powerful move Hoseok sunk his dick in Yoongis throat, making the other boy gag. It was harsh and out of nowhere, but he couldn't deny that he enjoyed it. He wanted to be good for Hoseok. He wanted to show him just how good he can be for him.
"This is what you get for being a little tease", Hoseok grunted, his hands finally pulling his mouth away from his dick. "You liked it didn't you? Look at me, god you look so hot like that" Hoseok moaned out, taking in the view in front of him. "Now take it slow, hallow your cheeks and don't forget - no teeth" Hoseok guided the boy. And Yoongi did as he was told, starting off slow, his mouth going up and down the length of Hoseok's throbbing dick, enjoying every second of it. Yet Hoseok enjoyed it even more. He looked down at the sight of his dick disappearing into Yoongis tight mouth, reaching the end of his throat, small moans vibrating against his dick as he did so.
"God your mouth is so tight around my dick, fuck", Yoongi was the hottest sight he has ever seen so far and swore he could burst any minute, but he didn't want to. He wanted this to last as long as possible, not sure if this will ever happen again.
Yoongis pace quickened once more, except that this time Hoseok didn't stop him. Yoongi was enjoying the feeling of Hoseok inside in his mouth, his hands pulling on his hair, he enjoyed the feeling of Hoseok's thighs that he was holding onto. He enjoyed this moment of complete bliss, where nothing mattered. The clock stopped ticking and there was just the two of them to enjoy this moment. Yoongi kept fastening his movements, taking all of him in his mouth over and over again, feeling Hoseoks dick twitch in his mouth. Hoseok has never felt so good touched by someone else, he was so close, his hand still harshly gripping Yoongis hair.
"I-I'm gonna c-cum" Hoseok moaned out, his eyes trying their hardest to stay open and not miss a single second of the view. A few more bops of Yoongis head and he was already cumming, sending a huge load of cum down Yoongis throat. Yoongi swallowed it all and continued to kitten lick the sensitive area, letting the red-haired boy ride out his high. After a few seconds, Hoseok lifted himself up from the couch, putting his sweats back on his legs with his underwear. Just as Yoongi was about to stand up he was lifted up by Hoseok and situated on his lap. Hoseoks lips searched for Yoongis ones as fast as he could, connecting them together for a lazy, sensual kiss, both of them a bit tired of what they just did. Hoseoks arms went around Yoongis waist, securing him even more comfortable in his lap, pressing his body closer to his, making the smaller boy feel safe in his arms. Yoongis hands caressed Hoseoks neck, playing with his hair throughout the kiss, making the boy hum in appreciation. The room that was now a bit messy, soda cans and snacks spread out all over the table and floor, multiple blankets and pillows laying around them, the dim light coming from the TV, a faint smell of their sweaty bodies felt like the most magical place both of them could be in. Neither of them knew what this meant and they didn't need to. They had the whole weekend to figure it out.
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#yoongi x hoseok#sope#yoonseok#sope smut#sope fluff#yoonseok fluff#yoonseok smut#min yoongi#suga#jhope#hoseok#bts#bangtan#jhope smut#jhope fluff#yoongi smut#yoongi fluff#jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#park jimin#jimin smut#kim namjoon#bts RM#kim taehyung#bts v#kim seokjin#bts jin#kpop#kpop smut
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Divided We Fall
For @robron-til-the-end. Tried to write you something involving Robron and a few elements I thought you’d enjoy. I hope you know what an invaluable part of fandom you are. Wishing you that this fandom event as well as many more to come will bring you nothing but the joy you deserve, especially after this rough past year! Much love, your secret valentine. xox Summary: Robron have an unexpected visitor at the scrapyard.
Joe Tate had come by the scrapyard on an afternoon when Robert was there to take Aaron out for lunch. It was shortly after the two of them got back together and everything still very much felt to them as if they were on an unofficial honeymoon.
From his vantage point at the back of the office, Robert was suspiciously eyeing the latest owner of Home Farm and the Dingles’ newest sworn enemy. No, it wasn’t like Joe Tate had to have planned it on purpose, his arrival at the yard precisely on a day when the two of them were planning to have a date during their lunch break, but Robert felt it would be prudent to still entertain the notion. After all, he and Tate already had… a few run-ins, if it can be put that way, which made this coincidence seem less than accidental to him. Not to mention, he did think that he had picked up on someone who he thought might have been Graham earlier in the day. Casually walking by the Mill just in time to catch Robert and Aaron finalising their plans for the day and reluctantly saying goodbye, kissing repeatedly and lowly growling to each other how lunch break couldn’t come soon enough. Whispering how much they hated to be parted for even this short period of time into their kisses. In hindsight, there was more than a good chance it was all the kissing that made it hard for Robert to be fully certain of the identity of their probable stalker. Once Robert let the scenario sink in, that of Joe having come by intentionally on an afternoon when both of them were more than likely to be around, he wasn’t feeling all that prudent after all. Especially not given their uninvited visitor’s rudeness. Aaron had just been in the process of finishing up on some paperwork (he had to do a lot more of that since Adam had left, always grumpily muttering about it under his breath. Which his husband secretly found to be adorable). Robert had been patiently waiting by the interior side of the door (if he was capable of being patient, it was mostly thanks to the fact that it gave him ample opportunity to ogle how good Aaron was looking these days. And to do so without his husband making a face at him, pretending not to be enjoying the attention). When seemingly out of nowhere, Joe stormed in. Not knocking on the door, without thinking permission was something he needed in any form to enter the premises, not looking left or right when he walked straight in, as if he owned the place. Strutting right up to Aaron’s desk, seemingly too set on his goal to detect any additional presence in the room. Approaching it with a familiar air that Robert did not like one bit. He was behaving like he had been in this office before. Robert couldn’t help the niggling doubt that overtook him… had Tate been there before? If it weren’t for that question mark, Robert probably would have already given in to the part of himself that badly itched to lash out and put the guy back in his place. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dingle,” Joe announced, as if it was mandatory for his entrance to entail much pomposity. It was the tone of his voice, all boastful and arrogant. He clearly thought he was above everyone else, as well as above common decency. God, what a prick. Robert couldn’t stand him. Aaron raised his eyes from the desk and the paperwork laid out on it, appraising the man standing before him. Robert had to admit to himself that the man his husband was taking in made for quite an appearance in his elegant, posh and alarmingly flattering clothes, his hair all done up meticulously. Joe Tate obviously took pride in his looks and was willing to put in the time to cultivate the impression he would leave on an audience. The fucking moron. “What d'ya want?” Aaron spat out. In the quiet of the small scrapyard office, Robert couldn’t miss the little huff of surprised dismay that Joe let out in response. He could also hear the undertone of amusement found there, which would have probably been unnoticeable for almost everyone else. Tate has met a challenge in Aaron and he was not displeased by it. Fucker. “Now, now, there’s no need to be like that.” His fucking amused tone. “I heard a lot about this place and I was wondering if I could interest you in a business opportunity,” Joe’s confidence evidently took no hits and the smirk in his voice was genuinely disgusting. “What business would I ever wanna have with you?” Damn. Aaron was being rude as fuck, which Robert probably should have found to be reassuring. But no one knew better than him how appealing Aaron’s attitude could actually be. He remembered all too well how meeting a refusal this blatant, this unapologetic, made Robert himself want to sink his teeth right into destroying it. Made him want to sink his teeth right into the line of Aaron’s neck. Make it curve. Take down all his walls and barriers. Robert’s breath stopped. Aaron’s rudeness worried him because no one was more aware than he was the effect that it could have over a man with a mentality such as his… a man like Tate obviously was. The similarities between himself and Joe became perfectly clear to Robert for the first time as a real sense of panic took over him. He couldn’t keep quiet anymore. “What do you think you’re doing?” Robert took two steps forward, forcing Joe to turn around to him. “Ah, Mr. Sugden. How surprising to find you here,” Joe said with a delight so smug that it indicated the exact opposite. The whole thing planned, then. This interaction with Aaron when Robert would be there, sooner or later, to witness it. This was the time when he had to focus. This was the moment to make sure he won’t fall into Tate’s trap, whatever it was or was meant to achieve. “I’m sure it is. How could you possibly know I’d be here?” Robert was aiming for his deliberate cynicism to play its tricks on Joe. Tate’s smirk widened. “How indeed.” He turned his gaze back to Aaron. “You know, I’ve heard a lot about this business and how it came to be. I can definitely see the appeal.” Robert did his best not to let the anger and tension that he felt shake his voice. “Yeah, I knew it had great potential from the very beginning. Only in the right hands, of course.” “Oh?” Joe looked back at him, with a raised eyebrow. “Are you of the opinion that my investment in this place would not make for the right hands?” Robert was too zoned in on Tate’s features, studying his every reaction, to glance at Aaron. But then again, he didn’t need to. It was clear to him exactly how much his husband must be hating this entire exchange, dying to stop it. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be news to you if I told you about my time up at Home Farm. So yeah, based on my experience with your type of business? Definitely the wrong hands.” The sound Joe made was almost a laughter. “No, not news. And from what I’ve heard, Mr. Dingle wasn’t as confident as you, it took quite a few efforts before he found the right hands for this place. If he has, that is. So wouldn’t that be something, huh?” Tate flashed his smile back at Aaron. “If it turned out you misjudged me.” “Right,” Aaron’s voice was annoyed and impatient, “I don’t know who’d you think you are, marching in here with business proposals after everything you’ve done to my family. But you’re not welcome here and your money don’t impress me. Now do one.” Tate’s smile didn’t falter for a second. “Mr. Dingle. What loyalty you inspire in your investors. I look forward to discovering how you’ve earned such following and what could convince you to entrust your business to my hands after all. As I’m sure eventually you will. I’ll be seeing you.” And right in front of Robert, the fucker had the audacity to let his eyes take one long, last scan of Aaron, top to toes and back up again. Then he nodded at Robert with unhidden satisfaction. Like he accomplished exactly what he set out to do. “Good day,” he even threw in a tiny courtesy in Robert’s direction. As if it truly was just another business meeting come to an end. The door closed behind him, infuriatingly calm. Robert was anything but. “That… That knobhead!” He was too angry to find better, more suitable curse words. “Calm down, Robert, he’s gone. He can’t do us any harm now.” With Tate gone, Aaron didn’t sound as upset as one might have expected him to be. “You know he’s up to something, right?” Robert was pacing the room, glaring at the door behind which Joe disappeared. “That weirdo butler of his was sniffing around this morning. They did this on purpose…” “Did what? Joe Tate wanted to make us an offer and we didn’t even hear him out.” Robert stopped before Aaron’s desk. Before his husband. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the wooden barrier between them, spreading them as wide as they would go, attempting to emphasise his seriousness while downplaying how anxious he was. “You gotta trust me, Aaron. I’m telling ya, he’s got some plan in his head and nothing here today made him think he couldn’t succeed with it.” “He can think what he’d like. He won’t get anything over on us.” Robert didn’t want to put it into words, but he had to. “He’s going to try and seduce you. He did it with Debbie, you’re next on his list. All of you Dingles are valid targets to him.” Aaron’s weirded out expression, making it seem like this was crazy talk, wasn’t putting Robert’s mind at ease. He was sure that however his husband was reacting, Joe’s less than subtle delivery of sexual innuendo meant those intentions were hardly something Aaron could have missed. “He doesn’t actually fancy me. He’s not even gay!” “Yeah,” Robert said, “neither was I. Still couldn’t help wanting to sleep with you, could I?” Aaron snorted. “That’s right, you weren’t gay. You were bi. I know I didn’t get at first what that means,” Robert remembered. That and how much Aaron tried and struggled to understand it. They had come so far, which only made what they had all the more precious. Too precious. “But I did know from the start you were genuinely interested. You weren’t going after me just for the sake of some plan, or else I would have never had you in that garage.” It’s meant to lighten the mood, that last part. But after all they’ve been through to get back to each other… Too precious to take the smallest risk with, too precious to lose again. “What if Joe’s bisexual too, and genuinely after you? In a way he is interested, even if he’s never been with another guy before. When a man like him commits himself to a scheme, he’s truly committed. He’s going to come after ya with all he’s got and he’s not gonna stop until he gets what he wants.” “And you know this for a fact, do ya?” Aaron’s voice now sounded tired more than anything else. “In a way…” Robert hesitated, but pressed on regardless, “I do. I mean… I used to be him, wasn’t I?” Robert hated admitting it. The more upset and disgusted he was with Joe, the harder it was to own up to their many similarities. But he would do that and more if it kept Aaron safe from Joe’s manipulations. Aaron shook his head and something softened in his eyes. “You were never him. D'ya hear me? Because you’re the one that’s gotta trust me on this one. I saw you from the first moment, Robert Sugden. I saw who you were and who you could be. And, yeah. You two have a lot in common. But you were always better than him.” He placed his right hand softly on top of the left one Robert still had splayed out on Aaron’s desk. “Even just a few seconds ago, you were thinking of protecting me from him, weren’t ya? Not only us, but me. You don’t even realise how much better than him you are…” The warmth that already started brewing in the pit of Robert’s stomach as soon as his husband began speaking, it was now spilling all over and touching every internal part of him. Robert listened. And heard once more the love that Aaron felt for him, the love his husband had for him even back when he didn’t have any for himself. Only the appearance of it. That served to remind him of what might be Tate’s Achilles heel. And that it was love again that afternoon which stopped Aaron from intervening while Robert and Joe were exchanging words, despite his own discomfort, recognising that his husband needed the opportunity to assess their uninvited visitor. “Alright,” Robert said with the certainty that his husband gets him. “But you will listen to me with this, right? Because maybe I wasn’t quite him, but I still know how he thinks.” “Goes without saying,” Aaron nodded at him. “Whatever he’s planning, we’re gonna figure it out together and he’s gonna regret ever coming into this office today.” Aaron’s words, his faith in them, it made something settle inside Robert enough to allow him to address one more thing that he had to. Something that he couldn’t have brought up with any other partner, because it would have left him too vulnerable. And if he wouldn’t have, it would have then continued to consume him on the inside. “That knobhead was flirting with you. Whatever we figure out and decide to do, I don’t want him allowed to do that. I don’t want you accepting that or flirting back. Not even pretend flirting.” “Agreed,” Aaron didn’t so much as flinch, not a tiny bit of resistance. “You know that he was just trying to fuck with me through you, right?” Robert sounded to his own ears so much smaller than he thought he would. “Actually…” Aaron started as he rose to his feet, bypassing his desk to wrap Robert up in his arms. Without a thought, his own hands returned the gesture and found their way to Aaron’s waist. Entangled together. As they always should and would be. “Actually it was me he was trying to fuck with. Ya know, in the literal sense,” Aaron said this with that brand of shrugged off cockiness he had from time to time that was so endearing. Probably because he thought that he was joking even as Robert reckoned that he was unwittingly stating nothing but truth. One that being them two, together, brought to the surface, making Robert feel that he’d done good after all. “You don’t have to care or be upset by that. Because I’m never gonna want to fuck with him. Or with anyone else for that matter,” Aaron added to the end of his sentence a gentle bite at the base of Robert’s neck, to make his point, then proceeded to lick at the slightly reddened skin. “Oh,” Robert struggled to not come across quite as breathless as he felt, not yet. But it was futile and he couldn’t help but give in to the impulse to nuzzle against the side of Aaron’s face, “is it just me you want to fuck with, then? In the literal sense?” “Just you,” Aaron reached around to playfully smack Robert’s bottom, “I promise. In every sense”.
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J.G.A.R.G
A. Psychology
What of the Meyers-Briggs personality types they most fit into? INFP, ENFT, et cetera…
This isn’t something Jasmine cares about or knows.
What alignment are they? Chaotic neutral, lawful evil, et cetera…
Jasmine is probably Lawful Good up until a certain point where she either becomes True Neutral or Chaotic good.
Do they have any emotional or psychological conditions? Are they aware of it?
All Wixen are aware of the cost of casting and use of magic. It’s just a thing their species has to deal with. She suffers from mild anxiety in social interactions as well just in addition to the whole. Magic slowly melting your brain thing.
Do they try to treat it?
The symptoms are easily treated with potions, but the root cause has no cure. Even wixen who don’t use casting will experience the same sort of problems.
Are they a pessimist or an optimist?
Jasmine is probably an optimist, but in a cynical way.
Are they good at handling change in their life?
Sure?
Does your OC tend to assume their interpretation of events and reality is correct, or do they question it? I.e., “I’m sure that’s what you said” versus “It’s possible I misheard you.”
This question is stupid and Jasmine doesn’t want to answer it.
Is your OC confident in their reactions to life in general, or do they get embarrassed or easily shamed for it? I.e., if something startles them, do they insist it WAS scary? When they cry, do they feel like they overreacted?
Jasmine is often easily embarrassed because of social anxiety and her voice getting shrill and weird when she talks to pretty girls who may or may not work in potion shops.
Is your OC a martyr?
What the fuck does this mean. I doubt Jasmine is gonna die for a cause any time soon.
Does your OC make a lot of excuses? For themselves? Others?
No.
Does your OC compromise easily? Too easily?
She lets her older brother push her around a lot. They’re so precious.
Does your OC put others’ needs before their own?
Probably. Especially where her brother is concerned. Caspian is kind of a mess.
Does your OC have any addictions? If so and problematic, have they admitted it to themselves?
By nature, all casters are addicted to casting.
Does your OC have any phobias? If so, where did they come from?
She does, but nothing she’s ready to admit.
Is your character empathetic?
Certainly. She’s a beat peace keeping cop that has to deal a lot with diffusing emotional situations that could lead to an overuse of casting. She has to be empathetic in order to do her job.
Is your character observant?
Yes.
Does your OC have to go through their own trials to learn a lesson, or do they listen and learn from observation and lecture? I.e., does your OC listen when someone tries to tell them the importance of budgeting, or do they have to go experience what happens if you don’t budget first?
This was too long and I didn’t read it. Jasmine is frowning at me.
What’s one of your OC’s proudest moments of themselves?
Not murdering her brother.
Do they get jealous easily? Do they feel bad if they do?
She can get jealous, yeah. Probably not easily. She doesn’t feel bad about it. Especially considering ALL PARTIES PRESENT KNEW HOW SHE FELT AND DID THE THING ANYWAYS. She was justified in her jealousy.
What instantly irritates them or puts them in a bad mood?
Whenever her brother is sick or he pushes himself too hard and hurts himself.
Are they harsh on themselves?
She used to be, but now she’s learned to take things in stride. She can’t be constantly hard on herself with her brother to worry about.
Is your OC intended to be found generally attractive? Unattractive? Average? Is there a reason why?
I mean, I’m her mother so I’m always gonna think my baby is beautiful. Though, I wouldn’t say she’s conventionally attractive. She has too big eyes with pretty heavy dark circles underneath, a too small upper lip with an enormous pouty lower one that she thinks makes her look like a turtle, and her hair never wants to cooperate. She has a huge fluff of kinky curls that somehow are always busting out of clips.
Does your OC place much importance on their appearance? Do they feel confident in it?
She wears light makeup, has a skin care routine, etc. Most of this is taken care of by potions so it’s easier for people in this reality to have routines like this. Plus Jasmine likes the repetitive nature of putting makeup on. She’s into calming repetitive stuff.
What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it?
Honestly there’s a lot going on in her life right now, but her biggest obstacle is likely her brother’s unwillingness to care about her feelings as far as the girl in the potion shop goes.
B. Social
Do they believe you have to give respect to get it, or get respect to give it?
Dude whatever. Respect is respect is respect. Jasmine doesn’t need to answer this.
Do they get frustrated when lines at places like pharmacies, check-outs, delis, banks, et cetera, are moving slowly?
No. She lives in a city. There are always lines.
Under what situations would they get angry at servers, staff, customer service, et cetera?
She doesn’t.
Do they tip well? How easily can they be moved to not leave a tip?
Yes.(TIP YOUR SERVERS, PEOPLE)
Do they hold doors open for people?
No.
Would your OC let someone ahead of them in line if your OC had a big cart and the person behind them had very few items?
No.
How do they respond to babies crying in public?
She ignores them like every other sane person. That’s not her kid.
Is your OC considered funny? Do they believe they’re funny?
Probably. And no, she doesn’t think she’s funny.
What kind of humor does your OC like the most? Slapstick, ironic, funny sounds, scare pranks, xD sO rAnDoM…
None of the above. Her sense of humor is there, but pretty refined. She likes dry humor.
Does your OC find any “bad” or “mean” humor funny? Do they wish they didn’t?
Sure. She’s a caster. There are always going to be things you find funny (that aren’t funny) when you’re casted out.
Your OC is running late to meeting someone: Do they let the other person know? Do they lie about why they’re late?
The other person knows and doesn’t care. Jasmine cares a lot, but it’s not something she apologizes for. She’s rarely late.
Your OC orders something to eat and gets their order done in a pretty wrong way, something they can’t just pick off or whatnot to correct, or something major is missing. What do they do?
Jasmine doesn’t order much “off menu” but if this did happen she’d probably send it back so the cooks could correct it or ask for the missing item. That or she wouldn’t care.
Do they have a large or small group of friends?
She has a pretty large group of friends. Most of them cops, some she still knows from college. They go to jazz clubs and stuff.
Do they have people they (that?) are genuinely honest with about themselves?
Her brother.
Does your OC enjoy social events, such as parties, clubs, et cetera..?
She does, sure. She’s introverted, but she can enjoy going out. Just not too much.
Does your OC like to be the center of attention or more in the mix?
Why can’t she just fade into the background and observe?
C. Morality
Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it?
Yes. It comes from her not being a shitty person and she takes that very seriously.
Would your OC feel bad if they acted against their morals? If not, would they find a way to excuse themselves for it?
Yes.
Is it important for them to be with people (socially, intimately, whatever) whose major ideological tenets align with their own?
No.
Do they consider themselves superior or more important than anyone else? Lesser?
No.
Do your OC’s morals and rules of common decency go out the window when it comes to those they don’t like, or when it’s inconvenient? Aka, are their morals situational?
I’m gonna say yeah. People change. Dynamic characters are the best characters.
What do they do when they see someone asking for money or food? If they ignore them, why? If they help, how so?
She’s a big ol’ softy. Buys coats and food for the homeless in their neighborhood. She often uses her position in law enforcement to help them out too. There are a lot of shelters around and she and some of the other cops are constantly checking in to make sure everything is running smoothly.
There are a lot of initiatives for the homeless in Wixen universe. It comes with the territory. It’s possible a lot of casters could end up losing their livelihood due to the circumstances of their “illness” and they’ve come up with ways to combat this by having special housing for the homeless and the permanently casted out that are too far gone to remain in society.
Do they believe people change over time? If so, is it a natural process or does it take effort?
Yes.
Is your OC more practical or ideal morally? I.e., do they hold people to high expectations of behavior even if it’s not realistic for the situation, or do they have a more realistic approach and adapt their morality to be more practical?
Practical.
D. Religion and Life and Death
How religious is your OC? What do they practice, if anything? If they don’t associate with any religion, what do they think of religion in general?
In Wixen, monotheistic religions didn’t gain a lot of traction, so most of the religions are different than what people in our universe would believe. They have gods and goddesses and stuff like that. It’s normal for people, who utilize the old ways with spells and witchcraft, to worship the sun and the moon and the elements.
Jasmine doesn’t buy into the old ways. She’s more progressive so she isn’t very religious. She may burn a candle for the goddess of the moon every year on the solstice. She likes the moon goddess. The sun god never hears from her though.
Do they believe in an afterlife?
In Wixen, the general belief is that after death everyone becomes energy that goes back into the laylines to feed future magical generations.
How comfortable are they with the idea of death?
Fairly comfortable.
Would they like to be immortal? Why, why not? If they are immortal, would they rather not be?
Immortality isn’t something she likes to think about.
Do they believe in ghosts? If not, why? If so, do they think they’re magical/tie into their religion, or are they scientifically plausible?
Ghosts are definitely real. Why would they not be real? Spirits that have unfinished business are everywhere. Or people that just didn’t wanna die and end up in the layline. They’re around.
E. Education and Intelligence
Would you say that your OC is intelligent? In what ways? Would your OC agree?
Jasmine isn’t like wowwwowoow IQ of 9000 smart, but she’s not an idiot either. She’d definitely agree that she isn’t an idiot.
Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera)
This is a dumb question.
How many languages do they speak?
Four.
Did they enjoy school if they went to it?
Sure.
What’s their highest education level? Do they want to continue their education?
Bachelor’s.
Do they enjoy learning? Do they actively seek out sources of self-education?
Who doesn’t enjoy learning? Yes.
Are they a good note-taker? Are they a good test-taker? Do exams make them nervous?
Yes, yes, yes.
What’s one of your OC’s biggest regrets?
How she treated her brother after she lost her leg.
F. Domestic Habits, Work, and Hobbies
What sort of home do they live in now, if at all? How did they end up there?
She lives in a spacious apartment with her brother in Briarville, Delaware. They ended up there because of work.
What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?
She likes where she lives. Maybe one day she’ll have a farm in the country with a bunch of rescue creatures where she can rehabilitate them, but for now she wouldn’t trade her apartment for the world.
Could they ever live in a “tiny home”?
That’s just a trailer with extra steps.
How clean are they overall with home upkeep?
Their home is clean, but definitely lived in.
How handy are they? Can they fix appliances, cars, cabinets, et cetera?
Most things can be fixed with a well placed rune and a little casting. Things that can’t be, she just calls someone else to do it.
How much do they work? What do they do? Do they enjoy it?
She’s a beat cop so she works every day. She likes her job.
What’s their “dream career” or job situation?
Probably a detective or a magical creature rehabilitator.
How often are they home?
Every night?
Are they homebodies and enjoy being home?
She likes being at home on her days off. That or out in nature. Wixen like nature.
Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are?
She was a fairly decent ballet dancer in her youth. She stopped doing in professionally when she left college and moved on to a more practical career she could see herself maintaining long term.
What are some of their favorite things to do for recreation? How did they get into it? What part of it do they like the most?
She likes to read and listen to jazz. The rest of this question is dumb.
Would they enjoy a theme park?
Probably? She likes looking at weird stuff and occasionally likes fair food.
G. Family and Growing Up
Is your OC close to their family?
Extremely.
Who makes up your OC’s family, at least the more important members to them?
Her mother and older brother and step father. Her biological father died when she was young. He was a cool guy and is dearly missed.
Does your OC find their family supportive? If not, what would be an example why not?
Yeah, sure.
What kind of childhood did your OC have?
A good one. She lost her leg due to her brother’s shenanigans, but other than that and her father passing she was very well loved. (Except for Dave. Fuck that guy. Her mother re-married early on because of grief and Dave was a douuuche.)
Did they go through any typical phases growing up?
No?
Do they have any favorite childhood memories?
Yes.
Do they have any childhood memories they’d rather forget or be less affected by?
Of course.
H. Romance and Intimacy
What is your OC’s orientation, romantic and/or sexual? Has it ever been a source of stress for them? Have they always been pretty sure of their orientation?
Jasmine is a lesbian. She’s also trans. It’s only ever been a source of stress where Dave was concerned. In Wixen, society generally accepts LGBT due to the monotheistic religions not really taking root and most people are kinda just like. Whatever. There are some people out there with differing opinions, but it is very rare.
She’s not always been sure of her orientation.
Is your OC a thoughtful partner, in whatever aspect of that you want to cover?
She probably is. Or as much as she can be with the whole magic thing.
Does your OC believe there’s only one ideal partner (or multiple ideal if not monogamous) for everyone, or that there are many people who could be right?
What.
Does your OC believe in love in first sight?
Not love, no. She falls in love slowly. She can generally gauge if she’s going to be attracted to someone at first sight, though.
Does your OC believe in marriage (or their culture’s equivalent)?
Sure.
Has your OC ever cheated on anyone or been cheated on?
Yeah, dude.
What do they look for in partners? (Emotionally, mentally, physically…)
Honestly Jasmine is attractive to clever women that are independent and sort of not terrible.
What’s your OC’s idea of a perfect date?
A jazz concert in a foggy club with someone she genuinely cares about.
What are some things that your OC finds to be an instant turn-off in potential partners?
Probably stabbing her in the hand. *GLARES POINTEDLY AT VIOLET*
I. Food
What are their favorite kinds of flavors– Sweet, salty, sour, spicy, creamy, et cetera?
She likes rice.
Do they have any eating requirements or preferences? Allergies, vegetarian, organic-only, religious restrictions…
No.
Are they vegan/vegetarian (if their overall culture/species generally aren’t)? If so, why? Do they think animal products are wrong in all circumstances?
No.
How often do they cook? Do they order out a lot?
Every night.
Are they a good cook?
Pretty average. Caspian is the better cook.
Could they eat the same thing they enjoy over and over and not get bored of it quickly?
No.
J. Politics, Current Events, Environmental Aspects
Where does your OC stand most politically? What would they align with most?
Honestly I haven’t thought much about the political climate in Wixen.
How politically aware are they?
It’s likely she’s very politically aware.
How politically active are they?
Very.
Is your OC the sort to fall for fake news? If not, do they ignore it or make a point to clarify that it’s wrong?
Probably not.
Are they or would they protest for a cause they’re passionate about?
Definitely.
How do they react to people whose political viewpoints are very opposite of theirs?
As long as they aren’t dangerous, she ignores them.
How much interest in environmental health do they have?
The environment is VERY important to caters. Most of their cities are overgrown by plant life.
In reality-based or applicable worlds, do they believe in global warming? Do they recycle?
L. For the Writer/Owner
How have your characters changed since you created them?
She’s changed a lot - originally she was Yamato from Naruto for an RP. Until eventually this RP became something completely different and turned into this crack RP with Yamato/Kakashi/Kasumi/Oniyuri as wizards. Then it became it’s own story where she was originally named Rowan and was a dude. Now her name is Jasmine and she’s cool.
Like man she started out as Japanese, then white, now she’s Portuguese/french, but her father was black so that’s a thing.
What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any?
Being the best gay she can be.
Did you create the character to be like yourself, did they end up being like yourself, or are they very different from you?
Lol no. She’s cooler than I am.
Would you hang out with your OC if you could?
Gross hanging out with people.
How did you come up with your OC?
Was originally part of a Naruto RP that spiraled out of control.
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“I’m Here”
Summary: After escaping Poe’s book, Chuuya struggles- and fails- to come to terms with the fact that Akutagawa has been killed.
Notes: HOLY SHIT ANGST ALERT, in case that summary didn’t clue you in. Normally, I try to keep my Chuuaku fics pretty light because Chuuya and Aku have suffered enough already, but I came up with this scenario after the latest chapter came out, and I just had to write this. Welcome to suffertown!
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I
It was summer.
Sun beat down on Yokohama with a ferocity that blurred the air, burning the city into submission. Sweat streaked Chuuya’s forehead, but he shivered. His mind had detached itself from his body, had sunk to some dark, unfathomable place where the physical sensation of heat was forgotten and feelings were dulled by distance. Chuuya stared at the ring in the palm of his hand, too numb even to cry.
He had meant to give it to Akutagawa weeks ago, once the guild had been defeated, but Akutagawa was so drained from his fight against Fitzgerald and brief encounter with Dazai that Chuuya didn’t want to risk overexciting him. There would be plenty of time to propose later, he thought, once Akutagawa was feeling better.
How stupid of Chuuya to forget that a mafioso’s “later” was a promise written on water.
Something came up. Something always came up. Fyodor and those wretched rats, the destruction, the chaos, the missions upon missions upon missions that seemed tailor-made to keep Chuuya and Akutagawa apart.
Then the book.
Chuuya was stunned when he found out he had only been gone a few days when it felt as if he had been trapped inside the book for months, but he was relieved. If only a few days had passed, Akutagawa should be fine. That wasn’t enough time for him to have gotten seriously hurt, right?
Wrong.
Chuuya bit his lip to keep from crying out. Even alone, he didn’t want to admit weakness.
Wrong, wrong wrong. . .
Chuuya couldn’t remember the moment he found out. He didn’t remember who told him, or where, or what he had been doing before, the words they had used. He didn’t remember shaking his head, denying, laughing as tears streamed from his eyes then collapsing to the ground, sobbing, believing, letting the terrible truth sink in.
All he remembered was the last time he and Akutagwa had been together. Chuuya had to leave in the dead of the night for a mission, but Akutagawa had looked so soft and peaceful in sleep that Chuuya couldn’t bear to wake him up. Instead, he settled for giving Akutagawa a quick kiss on the forehead and leaving in silence. He never said goodbye.
What was the last thing he had said to Akutagawa? What were Akutagawa’s last words to him?
Chuuya dragged his hands through his hair, tearing out copper strands. The ring slipped through his fingertips and clattered on the ground. Chuuya didn’t bother picking it up. What did it matter now? Akutagawa was gone.
No, he wasn’t gone. Chuuya could admit as much to himself. “Gone” made it sound as if Akutagawa had merely decided to leave, but that wasn’t what happened. Akutagawa didn’t leave.
No.
Chuuya’s body suddenly went cold
He was murdered.
Akutagawa had been murdered, and Chuuya already knew the culprit.
The virus ability user. . .
Chuuya kneeled down and picked up the discarded ring, cradling it in the palm of his hand for a moment before clenching his hand into a fist and striding out of the room, bent on revenge. The cold metal of the ring dug into the flesh of his palm.
It was blazing hot outside.
II
It was winter.
That was how Corruption always felt to Chuuya, like winter.
A blizzard.
Cold and capricious winds dragged icicle claws into the bellies of storm clouds above until snow bled from their wounds. Silent snowdrifts swept through his mind like static as snowflakes struck the ground with cannon-fire bombast, falling in time to the distant pounding, thrumming, buzzing deep in the core of bones Chuuya could no longer feel. The wind shrieked as if it was wounded, roared as if angered, whimpered as if grieving.
Trapped in the icy embrace of Corruption, Chuuya felt nothing as his distant body laid waste to everything around it. He remembered nothing, not the heat of vengeance nor the warmth of love. Chuuya had dropped the wedding ring long ago. He had given himself over to the storm.
Then the storm ended, and Chuuya was instantly, crushingly aware of every searing pain, every bone-deep ache tormenting the body it appeared he still possessed after all. He gazed at his shattered surroundings through unseeing eyes, unable to make sense of the blood-splattered ruins of a place he did not know. Even as he tried to make his eyes focus, the world seemed to fade to white at the edges. A cold hand gripped Chuuya’s shoulder, causing him to scream in pain.
“Calm down, partner,” whispered a familiar voice. Long arms slipped beneath Chuuya’s knees and around his shoulders, lifting him into the air. “It’s over now.”
Chuuya couldn’t make out the details of his face, but he would have recognized that voice anywhere. “Dazai?” he hissed, struggling to speak through the tightness of his throat. Chuuya couldn’t tell if he had spoken or not; all he could hear was the pounding in his head. “Put me down! I don’t want you-” Chuuya gasped, tearing up as another wave of pain struck. Before he could break away from Dazai, Chuuya fell unconscious, as helpless in Dazai’s arms as he had been in the storm.
***
Dazai’s apartment was a wretched little place.
Chuuya sat on a worn-down couch, wrapped in a moth-eaten blanket, holding but not drinking a cup of pre-packaged bile Dazai insisted was tea, listening to him explain what had happened, a look of total impassivity on his usually expressive face.
“-and then I arrive to find everything destroyed, everyone dead, etcetera, etcetera. Of course, I predicted you’d go after him once you figured out what happened,” Dazai said with a hint of smugness.“So, naturally, I had to be there, too.” Dazai took a sip of tea, then smiled. “My Chuuya is so high-maintenance.”
Chuuya gripped the teacup almost hard enough to shatter it. “I’m not yours.”
Dazai seemed a little put out. “You could at least say thank you,” he huffed, drumming his abnormally long fingers on the rim of his teacup. “I did save your life, after all.”
“Thank you!?” Chuuya leapt to his feet, throwing his teacup to the ground. Almost as soon as he was standing, Chuuya lost his balance and collapsed back onto the couch. The seismic throbbing in his head mounted, beating back his thoughts the instant they began to form. Chuuya cradled his head in his hands, willing the pain to go away.
Dazai reached toward Chuuya’s face; Chuuya smacked his hand away. Weakened as he was, the slap could not have been very painful, but Dazai drew back his hand as if he had touched a hot stove. “I’m just trying to help you,” said Dazai, annoyed. “Chuuya, I can’t do anything for you if you’re just gonna keep pushing me awa-”
“I don’t want you do to anything for me!” Chuuya cried, digging his fingernails into Dazai’s hideous couch to keep himself from attempting to gouge Dazai’s eyes out. “I don’t want anything from you- you ruin everything you touch! You’re a monster!”
“Monster?” Dazai looked pained for a moment, but his genuine emotion was quickly masked by cold anger. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t the one who murdered for a living,” he said, his words as cool and clipped as flurries of snow whipped into a frenzy by the wind, stinging like shards of glass as they struck the skin.“You might not remember what you did to all those people while you were using Corruption, but I saw it, I remember. If you want to see a monster, Chuuya, I’d suggest looking in a mirror.”
Chuuya refused to take Dazai’s bait. “This isn’t about me, and this isn’t about those damn rats I killed either,” he growled. “This is about you, and what you did to Ryuu.”
Dazai furrowed his brow. “Akutagawa-kun? I didn’t kill him, and I assume you know that, since you set out to kill the man who did.”
“You can’t be this stupid!” Chuuya snapped. “Do you really think Ryuu would have gone on that mission if you weren’t the one sending him?”
“If I hadn’t sent him to catch the virus user, Mori-san would have,” Dazai replied with a shrug. “I figured at least with Atsushi-kun, he would have someone to watch his back.”
“You fucking idiot!” Chuuya was unable to keep a bit of hysterical laughter from bubbling up in his sandpaper throat. “You stupid motherfucker.” He gave one more manic giggle, then relapsed into rage once more. “Who do you think made Ryuu that way in the first place? Every mission he’went on, he went on because you made him.”
Dazai stared down at Chuuya with eyes carved from ice. “I made him stronger.”
“You made him broken!” Chuuya clenched his hands into fists, cutting his palms with the jagged edges of his fingernails. “You beat him, tortured him, made him need you. You shot him in the face! He was just a kid, Dazai! A fucking kid!”
“I don’t have to take this from you.” Dazai took a slow sip of tea. “A current mafioso has no right to lecture a former mafioso on right and wrong.”
“I’m not saying I haven’t done worse, but at least I have the common-fucking-decency to regret it!” Chuuya cried, eyes blazing. “If I treated a kid- hell, any subordinate, anybody under my care- the way you treated Ryuu, you can bet your ass it would keep me up at night. But you-” Chuuya savagely swiped at the tears stinging his eyes. “You’re proud of what you did, aren’t you, bastard? Even now that you’re Mr. New and Improved, strutting around that stupid agency of yours like you’re a changed man who serves the greater good-” Chuuya snorted with derision. “You’ll never apologize for what you did to Ryuu. He’s dead, and not only will you not admit that it’s your fault-” Chuuya sniffled, wiping his nose on Dazai’s blanket. “-but even if you did, it wouldn’t bother you. Not for a goddamn second.”
Chuuya stood, clutching the edge of the couch to steady himself, and began walking out of the room. He was still weakened by Corruption, and his vision swam, blurred by pain and tears, and every nerve in his body ached, but he would have walked ten thousand miles on a path of broken glass as long as it led away from Dazai, who made no effort to stop him.
Sooner or later, Chuuya found himself in Kouyou’s arms. She said nothing, but led him to bed, gave him a warm cup of proper tea, and stroked his hair until he managed to sink into a restless sleep haunted by terrible dreams.
Weeks passed as one nightmare faded into the next seemingly without end. Chuuya ate little and spoke less, only leaving bed when Kouyou made him. Even then, he didn’t leave the house, but only laid on the couch staring blankly at the ceiling.
Revenge had done nothing. Yelling at Dazai had done nothing. There was nothing Chuuya could do to bring Akutagawa back.
Tears pricked Chuuya’s eyes. Without Akutagawa, life was nothing.
Then, on a day like any other, Chuuya left bed of his own accord and informed Kouyou that he was leaving. “Business to attend to?” she asked, effortlessly keeping her tone nonchalant even as her eyes shone with relief.
“Close,” Chuuya replied. His voice held none of its former passion, but he was speaking. His eyes had not lost the appearance of being haunted. “I’m going to visit a friend of mine.”
III
It was fall.
Summer had given way to autumn, and the world was fading, already anticipating the arrival of winter with a prolonged exhalation. A chilly gust of wind rustled the dying leaves on the tree just outside the window, but Edogawa Ranpo was concerned by far more pressing matters.
Ranpo rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you for the last time, Poe, ‘sepulchered’ isn’t a word.”
Poe crossed his arms, sulking and staring down at the Scrabble board. “It’s called literary innovation, Ranpo-kun.”
“Literary innovation, my ass,” Ranpo retorted. “I don’t need my ultra-deduction to know that’s a load of-” A knock at the door cut Ranpo short.
Poe vaulted across the table, knocking over the Scrabble board, and darted into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. “I’m not here,” he called.
Ranpo shook his head, but there was a smile on his face. Athough the agency had more or less accepted Poe, he still insisted on hiding every time someone came to visit Ranpo, more out of shyness than necessity. However, in this case, the visitor wasn’t from the agency at all.
Ranpo raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Fancy Hat? What brings you here?”
Chuuya looked up at Ranpo with shadowed eyes, silent.
“You should sit down,” Ranpo said, linking arms with Chuuya and leading him into the living room. He let Chuuya have the softest chair and sat on the coffee table across from him, studying his face and waiting for him to speak.
Chuuya wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the ground. “It’s cold in here.” His voice was fainter than Ranpo remembered it, and he shivered despite the warmth of the room.
Ranpo shrugged off his pancho and draped it around Chuuya’s shoulders. “Does that help?”
Chuuya’s only response was a blank stare. Then, some light seemed to flicker on inside for a moment, and he nodded. “Thanks.” He slouched over so that his forehead was practically touching his knees, crumbling in on himself, as if his bones were turning to dust beneath his flesh.
“So, Nakahara-kun, any, um, reason you’re here?” Ranpo asked, scratching his head.
Ranpo and Chuuya had bonded in the time they had spent together in the book; they had to, in order to keep their sanity in Poe’s literary labyrinth, in that shifting world populated by unrealities. Chuuya had a passion and dedication Ranpo could admire, even if those qualities were often the cause of his greatest weaknesses, and the fiery young mafioso had in turn grown to respect Ranpo’s intelligence. Grudging respect had given way to a sort of comradeship over time, but Ranpo had not expected to see Chuuya again, particularly not with Chuuya looking as if he had just crawled out of his own grave.
“He’s dead.” The words came out of Chuuya’s mouth in a short, percussive burst that seemed to leave him breathless for a moment. “Ryuu.”
It took Ranpo a moment to realize Chuuya must have meant Akutagawa, the mafioso Dazai had paired up with Atsushi, the one who had been killed by the virus ability user. “You never mentioned him before,” Ranpo said in a feeble attempt to break the oppressive silence. “I didn’t realize you two knew eachother.”
Chuuya made an effort to lift his head and look Ranpo in the eyes. “I loved him.”
Ranpo felt his mouth go dry. “Oh. Yeah, that’s. . . that hurts.” Ranpo was at a loss; he had lost his parents before, and he understood the depth of pain and grief Chuuya must have felt, but he had no idea how to communicate any of this to Chuuya. “Sorry.”
“Remember in the book,” said Chuuya, abruptly flaring back to life. A manic gleam stole into his tear-swollen eyes. “Remember being surrounded by all those people?”
“Characters,” Ranpo corrected.
“They felt real, didn’t they?” Chuuya insisted, leaning forward so his face was inches for Ranpo, his fingers tigging into the plush arms of the chair. “Like real people? Remember? Remember how it felt after a while when one of them was murdered? Like a real death? Like a real world where real people lived and died?”
Ranpo felt a shudder of apprehension trail down his spine. “Nakahara-kun, I-”
As suddenly as the burst of energy had struck, it faded, and Chuuya sank back down into the chair, his eyes dulling like dying embers. “I miss it in there,” he whispered, allowing his eyes to close. “I felt lighter there. My head was quieter.”
He was talking about Corruption. Ranpo wasn’t sure what that had to do with Akutagawa dying, but, figuring Chuuya wanted to change the subject, decided to go along with it. “Well, I mean, you know it’s different with my ability,” said Ranpo with a shrug. “It sets me apart from everyone and makes it hard to connect, but it’s a part of me- without my ability, I’m lost. I don’t know who I am.”
“That’s it! That’s it exactly!” Chuuya eyes burned with manic fire. “I don’t know who I am without him! All the best parts of me were tied up in Ryuu, and now- a-and now-” Chuuya’s shivering had grown more intense until he shook so violently that the chair creaked and groaned in protest beneath him. “I don’t want to be who I am without him.” Chuuya stared up at Ranpo through haunted eyes. “Ranpo-kun, your friend, with the books, do you think he could-”
“No!” Ranpo exclaimed, horrified. “Nakahara-kun, you can’t be serious!”
“I can’t live without him,” Chuuya whispered, at last allowing his gathered tears to fall. “I can’t live knowing I failed him. I have to see him again! I need him! Ryuu!”
As Chuuya began to cry in earnest, Ranpo leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his friend’s shoulders. “Hey, don’t- it’ll be- I-” Everything Ranpo could think to say sounded hopelessly impotent in the face of Chuuya’s raw emotion, so he fell silent, holding Chuuya and hoping physical gestures alone would give him some kind of comfort.
Though the crying gradually slowed to a halt, Chuuya never lost the haunted look in his eyes. He ran out of tears; his pain was unending. “Ranpo-kun, look at me,” Chuuya breathed. “Can’t you see I’m not the same?”
Much as Ranpo hated to admit it, even to himself, Chuuya was right. The broken man before him bore little resemblance to the Chuuya he had known in the book. In the span of a few weeks, Chuuya seemed to have aged decades, to have lost the spark of passion that sustained him, that kept his eyes burning even in the darkness of life. The Chuuya Ranpo knew would have threatened and coerced and stopped at nothing to get what he wanted; this Chuuya wept and pleaded and seemed seconds from total surrender.
What would happen to this Chuuya in the mafia? Without that guiding flare in his heart, the drive that carried him so far, how would he survive? Ranpo doubted the mafia would take kindly to this version of Chuuya; sure, they had tolerated him up to now, but sooner or later, they would try either to re-ignite his flame by imbuing him with a lust for vengenace or, should that prove unsuccessful, he could be found a liability and disposed of.
Ranpo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to Poe.”
IV
It was spring.
A soft breeze rustled the trees, and pale flower petals descended through the air like angels cast out of heaven, spiralling toward the ground, toward ruin. Without knowing how he understood, Chuuya knew it would always be spring here. Never again would summer sear his soul, nor harsh winter air grate against Akutagawa’s fragile lungs; here, they could always be together, always at peace, always safe and always in love in this world of eternal spring.
When Chuuya lowered his gaze from the flowers above, he saw a dark figure standing alone where the trees began to thin out, staring at the edge of the sky as it faded into the sea. Akutagawa had always admired the ocean from afar although he despised the cacophony of crashing waves up close. As if on cue, Akutagwa turned around, offering Chuuya a soft smile. “I’ve been waiting for you, Nakahara-san,” he said, his voice a bit gentler than it had once been. “Don’t you want to come over here?”
Chuuya’s breath caught in his throat, and his heart began beating so suddenly and wildly that it felt as if it was beating for the first time. Tears clouded his eyes, but he swiped them away, desperate not to lose an ounce of clarity as he gazed at Akutagawa’s pale face, imbued with a look of peace it so rarely had in reality. “R-Ryuu-” Chuuya tried to smile but his lips were trembling. Despite his best attempts to keep himself from crying, tears started falling. “Oh, Ryuu!”
Akutagawa’s eyes widened as he took in Chuuya’s tears and he began moving toward Chuuya, not walking so much as gliding, like a ghost, but when he put his hands on Chuuya’s cheeks, they were every bit as cold and rough as Chuuya remembered. “Nakahara-san, what is it?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”
Chuuya shook his head. “I’m okay. I just-” Chuuya sucked in a deep breath. “-I was thinking about what would happen if you died.”
“Why would you think about that?” Akutagawa’s voice was tinged with annoyance, but his hands were gentle as they stroked Chuuya’s hair. Akutagawa sighed, wrapping his arms around Chuuya. “Well, no matter, Nakahara-san. I’m here.”
No, you’re not.
Chuuya managed a shaky smile, and he wrapped his arms around Akutagawa, pressing his face close to his bony chest and inhaling his familiar scent. “I know, baby. I know.”
#bungou stray dogs#chuuaku#ANGST#here come dat fic o shit waddup#this fic is pretty fuckin sad u guys
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