#i love the little danger barian moment here

[kixidust]

Vector/Yuma Doujinshi English translation: Mellow

Name: Mellow Artist: NG (のぎ) https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/22208659 Rating: All ages (or maybe teen? idk) Characters: Yuma/Vector Warnings: Kissing of a dubious nature

No translation notes.

The little "poem" on the back says: "Mellow forbidden fruit. It is the traitor who drops the mellow fruit. But the traitor does not know. It is he himself who eats the mellow fruit." I'm not sure if I'm more or less confused.

Thank you to @doujinscans​ for making this available!

Eheh More zexal doujinshi translations (All ages)

Everyone who's been reblogging my translations, ilu.

[3w-writer-with-wings]

Next Yu-Gi-Oh! Crossover – Bonds Beyond Worlds

With so many ideas about what Yu-Gi-Oh! 7 will be about, I wanted ZEXAL/ARC V/VRAINS crossover continuation the most. I’ve already discussed this before Yu-Gi-Oh! Sevens was announced (here it is if you’re interested https://3w-writer-with-wings.tumblr.com/post/189629945740/next-yu-gi-oh-anime-new-series-or-a-crossover ) and despite new series, I’m still hopeful we will be getting a movie at least. Well, even if we aren’t getting it, I’ll write it down anyway. Only once Yuma, Astral, Yu-boys, Bracelet Girls, Yusaku and Ai get a happy conclusive ending will my soul be able to rest.

Still please don’t hate on SEVENS! It’s a nice and funny show and Yuga is a precious little inventor who doesn’t deserve all the hate.

Main cast

So the main cast will be definitely made of the main protagonists aka. Yuma, Yuya and Yusaku and their partner characters aka. Astral, other Yu-boys and Ai. I also want to include Bracelet Girls since they are very closely connected to Yu-boys, though not directly, more like they have a separate, but just as important mission, maybe they even team up with Rio (since she has psychic-like abilities) and Aoi (who learns about world connection from her brother and wishes to help). If it will possible I’ll also include rivals – though more like supporting characters, the same way Signers and professor Banner were used in the movie. For everyone else it would be more or less just minor roles, but still important enough to contribute to the story (Kaito and Arclight brothers guide Yuma through different worlds, Reiji and Yusho investigate strange occurrences in Arc V and Akira, Kusanagi and Ryouken try to find out where Yusaku went and how to help him). Overall, I wouldn’t include too many characters since I really want to give them meaningful roles. 

How it will connect the series?

VRAINS ends with a surprising findings uncovered by Akira – VRAINS got connected to many different worlds and Yusaku is on his way to unknown part of VRAINS in order to find Ai. While first crossover was connected by time (hence the title Bonds Beyond Time), this crossover will be connected by space. First crossover already made a big deal out of time (Atem was an ancient spirit from past and had to travel back in time to regain memories in order to rest in peace, Judai was a reincarnation of a Supreme King and Yusei fought against time-travelling cyborg from the future) and was therefore connected by time, with Yusei using Crimson Dragon to travel to past in order to stop Paradox from destroying it. This time, the new trio of protagonists will have to travel through space in order to meet. Since VRAINS ended so abruptly, with Yusaku travelling towards unknown part of network, this would be the most perfect point to start this new journey. If that part of VRAINS network somehow got connected to another world or more like a dimension, this is how Yusaku finds himself in ARC V dimension after the events of the fifth series – sometime after the four dimensions merged into one again. Yuya and Yuzu get used to their counterparts living in their bodies and Yuya is yet to defeat Yusho at that point.

Goals

In a way all three series share the same theme of protecting the world and changing it in order to save the ones they love, but with each series, less can be done to save it. Yuma used Numeron Code to save the friends he lost, prevented the destruction of Barian world and turned Barian Emperors back in humans. Yuya managed to seal Zarc’s soul in Reira and get Yuzu back and joined all dimensions into one, but he couldn’t save other Yu-boys and Bracelet Girls. Yusaku was unable to save Ai as Ai was never meant to co-exist with humanity. Therefore I believe this chain of events is in a way connected with Numeron Code – with such drastic change in Astral World and Barian World, the change must’ve affected Original Dimension in ARC V and Dr. Kogami must’ve had a reason to create Ignis (in the most far-fetched logic I believe the change awakened Zarc’s rage and convinced Dr. Kogami that the world is ending and humanity needs an immortal successor). Yuma could also feel guilty and selfish to activate Numeron Code, thinking he might’ve been wrong after all and that caused all the suffering Yuya, Yuzu, their counterparts and Yusaku have been through.

But at the same time this doesn’t mean they should just give up Numeron Code to fix everything and rather look for a different way, considering how much damage it has already caused. Maybe the antagonist wishes to have Numeron Code and their first goal is to destroy it or seal it for good and at the same time deal with the fact that it could bring Ai, Yu-Boys and Bracelet Girls back. Yusaku and Yuya don’t blame Yuma one bit and they both ensure him that their friends are still there, they just need to find another way to bring them back home. At one point they will be back either before the climax or during the climax (Yu-boys are pretty much already in Yuya, but it could be that they gain their bodies at the crucial moment when they are protecting Yuya). It would be interesting if Ai actually knew Yusaku was looking for him but was too scared to face him, thinking he’ll lose him (maybe Astral helps him get over it and during the moment where Yusaku is in danger, Ai comes back in a similar fashion as he did during his duel with Ryouken).

Antagonist(s)

It doesn’t necessary need an antagonist, considering the goals the main trio has is already challenging enough, though it would be interesting to have another antagonist. Rather than having a one that thinks they are doing the right thing but are ultimately making everything worse or a character that is outright evil. I prefer to use a very calculating antagonist who has a good reason behind his actions and truly presents a challenge for the new trio. Antagonist like Z-ONE from 5Ds would nicely fit in this story, but like I said, it doesn’t really need an antagonist. It will be also interesting to include a secondary antagonist or antagonists’ right hand against the girl squad. Since I plan to include Numeron Code (I mean it is a literal Infinity Gauntlet, why the hell not?) the main antagonist’s motivation could be something with rewriting reality and space all over again since Yuma and Astral greatly changed it since the end of ZEXAL. The Bracelet girls also have a connection to Ray and En cards that are also a rather powerful element so there would be no need to include more powerful elements, prophecies or ancient grudges against the protagonist trio. 

This might be a bit far-fetched idea too, but I think it would really interesting to use Yusho as antagonist. Not in a willing way of course, just that someone possesses him and through him challenges the new trio to a duel that decides all. A certain fanfic writer has (Frost190 in “Bonds of Pendulum”) already written down the most amazing duel between Yuya and Yusho that fit into the canon story so well that it made me think just what missed opportunity that duel was. Even though ARC V both starts and ends with Yuya’s vow to defeat his father one day, he never really duels him (though considering Yuri was able to defeat him and Yuya defeated Yuri, he could potentially defeat Yusho as well). Then there’s the fact that Yusho and Yuya haven’t really talked things through face to face yet. While it is clear that Yusho had to leave in order to stop Leo, he left right on the day he was supposed to have this big match. He knew Leo was up to no good, but really, really why he decided to leave on that day? He could’ve at least post-phone that match or be done with it in like an hour or so and then leave. This one thing has bothered me for as long as I can remember and that fact that they never point it out is that more frustrating besides the fact that Leo was magically excused of all horrible things he did. Yusho as antagonist (controlled of course, but using Yuya’s and Yusho’s memories to try to manipulate others) would work very well for Yuma and Yusaku too since Yuma also had to deal with the loss of his father and to Yusaku, Yusho could look like Dr. Kogami – a man who traumatized him for life. 

Climax

Like in Bonds Beyond Time, a big duel with protagonists against antagonist is expected to be the main battle of the movie, I would like to spice it up a bit or use entirely different climax scene. I mentioned before that I would love to see Bracelet Girls in action, so what if they get a seperate mission or another antagonist to fight and this is how they find a way to get their own bodies. With this info they have to reach Yu-boys and let them know how to separate them, though again there could be some trouble or something is happening due to disturbance in dimensions and they have to protect people in them. It would be really interesting if they were the trump card or if they would show up at that one moment when they would needed it the most. Another reason of why I want to include them so much is also because only the powers of Yuzu’s bracelet have been partially explained and considering Ray literally split a whole dimension and a demon in four, they must’ve been nearly as powerful as Numeron Code.

I would also love to expose the new trio of protagonists to their worst fears, showing their pieces of vulnerability there. Yuma could relive his duel with III and all the times he lost Astral and his friends. Yuya could go through the time his father was missing and when he hurt innocent people in berserk form. (In a way I would also love to see Zarc and Ray have a role, at least to guide him and encourage him to not to give up.) Yusaku might expect the trauma from Lost Incident, but it turns out to be the fear of truly losing Ai. Another important challenge would be probably temptation to use Numeron Code for their own interests like maybe it could rewrite Yusaku’s life with Lost Incident never happening, but erase all of Yuma’s friends who got revived. Maybe it could bring counterparts back but cause major disturbance in Den City. Overall I wouldn’t go there too much since I know well that Yuma, Yuya and Yusaku are one of the most selfless people and if anything, they would be fine with giving up on their desire for greater good.

Another important climax (in case I go with it), is Numeron Code. With such insane power of literal creation and destruction it could be again connected to ARC V, with the whole theme of Heavenly Dragons and En Powers. Similar themes also appeared in VRAINS, especially regarding the creation and destruction of life. It could also be that protagonists will be struggling with how to use it correctly or if they should use it in the first place. Another solution is also permanent destruction, but again, protagonists aren’t sure how will this affect dimensions and timelines. 

In all ways, climax will be epic and will join all the build up, struggles, fears and action in one scene.

Interactions of those who never met

This crossover will be able to provide a lot of scenes and interactions between characters of those three series. Yuya, Yuma and Yusaku have surprisingly a lot in common, especially their experiences when dealing with loss and fears. For some reason I’m actually seeing Yusaku opening up to them since they could strangely remind him of Ai and that was pretty much the only person besides Kusanagi that Yusaku trusted enough to share his fears. It would be also refreshing for Yusaku to see duelling as fun (I really hoped that would be the case when he duelled Go for the first time) and befriending more people like Ai told him to. Astral and Ai could also share a scene where they are talking about their human partners and the time once their partners will be gone since they are both sort of immortal beings. I strongly believe one of the reasons why Ai sacrificed himself for Yusaku was not only because he saw a future where Yusaku dies protecting him but because he knew Yusaku won’t live forever like him and he couldn’t handle being all alone without Yusaku or other Ignis. Astral who has been alone for thousands of years before meeting Yuma could teach him how to cherish the time with his partner that he still has. 

Conclusion

Like I mentioned it in the beginning – this would more or less be fix-it story. While I’m okay with ZEXAL ending (better than the one in manga at least), ARC V and VRAINS are in dire need for a better ending so overall, the ending conclusion will give the three series a much more conclusive ending. While I love to write a good angst and bitter sweetness for the end, I do no plan to end it this way (especially after binge watching two anime series in a row that had bitter-sweet but hella sad endings). This will have to be a feel-good ending with cheese on top or at least hopeful feel. I’m aiming for similar conclusion as Bonds Beyond Time, with three protagonists parting ways in hopes that they did the right thing and that they can return back to the worlds that they no longer need to fear they will break. 

The endgame will be obviously with Yu-boys coming back, Ai reuniting with Yusaku and Numeron Code being sealed away or if possible destroyed. If I’m going with “Yuma screwed up ARC V and VRAINS with Numeron Code” way, then I’ll really need to find a good reason to get rid of it or at least find a logical way how. Also he will be dealing with massive guilt and responsibility so maybe… Yuma might go Iron Man with it and others will need to stop him (that might lead to a secondary final duel or more like rescue duel, kinda mirroring final duel between Yusaku and Ai).

So yeah there will be a lot of conclusions to go through, especially if I include original antagonists, though I’m not that sure about it yet.

If anyone has any other ideas, suggestions, theories or anything else related to this topic, feel free to leave it below or PM me. I would love to hear your thoughts on this idea and it will really help me gather more ideas and material for this project that I would really love to write, not just for myself but for all other members of Yu-Gi-Oh! fandom as well.

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Fair Won Prize:  Chapter 1

It wasn’t much of a tavern, really. One room, a dozen or so tables scattered around, all of them battered and knife-scarred, and the chairs set before them not that much better. On one side a fireplace kept the room warm, or made a reasonably good attempt at such anyway. The chimney was in good enough condition that the smoke wended its way out of it instead of into the tavern itself.

Vector sniffed at the sight of it, lip curling. “There isn’t anywhere better?”

“Not around here,” Durbe replied, catching the eye of the tavern owner and gesturing him over. “And not that we could get to before that storm breaks.”

“Are you sure it’s going to be a storm?” Vector wanted to know. He wasn’t pouting by any means; this place just looked like trouble waiting to happen.

Vector had no problems with trouble. He just preferred to be the one starting it.

“Gilag is and that’s good enough for me,” Alit said, hands on his hips. “You wanna argue about that?”

Vector sniffed once again but subsided, for the most part. He followed the rest of the group over to the largest table, suitable for seven people only if they were close enough to one another.

Vector made a point to sit next to Mizael. He’d made a point of doing that everywhere they could for the last three months, since they’d formed their little band of adventurers. For one thing, Mizael was the absolutely prettiest of the seven of them, and Vector saw no reason to deny himself an attractive view.

Sitting here also provided him with the chance to remain hidden from most of the other people in the tavern, because they weren’t alone there. With Mizael in his sight and the various groups of thugs, mercenaries, and dimwits out of his sight, Vector thought spending the time of the storm here might be tolerable.

“What can I get for you fine folks?” The tavern owner asked once they’d settled in. “Gotta tell you, we probably don’t have what high-born folks like you are used to.”

Durbe offered a smile. “You might be surprised what we’re used to. But a good round of ale should do for a start.”

Mizael cleared his throat and Durbe chuckled. “I’m sorry. A round of ale for everyone else and if you have some sort of wine, my elven friend here would much prefer that.”

The tavern owner peered at Mizael, who peered right back, head held up high and with a light tilt to his head, asking without words if there were some kind of issue to his presence there.

“A genuine elf? We don’t get many of your – we haven’t seen too many elves around here in the longest time,” the tavern keeper declared. Vector did not like the sudden switch of words, nor did he like the way the keeper kept on staring. Granted, Mizael was attractive, but he was also Vector’s.

He just hadn’t gotten around yet to admitting it. But Vector had plans on that score.

Before the tavern keeper could scurry off, Gilag raised his hand for attention. “Could you bring me some water?” His hand dropped back down, petting Ponta, and the keeper’s gaze followed that way, blinking at the sight of the tanuki.

“O-of course, sir! I’ll be back right!”

He hurried out of sight, eyes still a little round in surprise. The tavern just had one room, but a curtain hung in between the majority of the room and where he presumably kept his stock of liquor. They could hear him moving around back there, pouring out ale, wine, and water.

“So you’re an elf.”

Vector turned back to see half a dozen grungy guys, who looked as if they at best had a nodding acquaintance with a toothbrush and a comb, but probably hadn’t bothered to see a tailor about mending their clothes in some time. Patches and stitched up tears were all done in a very slapdash, haphazard fashion. But to make up for that, every one of them stood a minimum of six feet tall, with muscles on top of muscles, and they all wore nearly identical sneers.

The one in the front, who’d spoken, had his eyes burning toward Mizael, who barely gave them so much as a look. Alit, however, grinned mischievously.

“You’re an elf, Mizael? Why didn’t you tell us?” He reached over to poke at the blond. “Do we really know you, then?”

Mizael rolled his eyes. “I would’ve thought the evidence would be obvious.”

The leader of the intruders glowered at them both. “I was talking to him. No one said you could interfere.”

“You were talking at him,” Ryouga said, his voice dangerously quiet. “I don’t think any of us are interested in a conversation with you.”

Mr. Muscles – as Vector mentally dubbed him, for lack of neither knowing nor caring what his actual name might be – glared at them all, rolling his tattered sleeves up to expose his arms. “I wasn’t talking to you, either!” He took a better look at Ryouga, then started to laugh. “What are you, some kind of a musician? Get out of here with that kind of junk.” He turned his gaze back toward the others. “Can any of you put up a decent fight? It gets boring around here when the weather gets bad.”

He sneered for a moment. “Well, any of you except the pretty elf and the musician.”

The looks exchanged were quicker than lightning and ended with Ryouga rising to his feet.

“Oh, no, I said not you!” Mr. Muscles laughed raucously. “I wouldn’t want to break your delicate hands!”

Ryouga sounded more annoyed than anything else. “If you want a fight, you’re going to get it with me.”

The whole bunch of toughs laughed even harder. Mr. Muscles shook his head and cracked his knuckles hard. “Well, if that’s the way you want it. Just don’t blame me when you can’t warble a tune or play an instrument anymore.”

Vector leaned forward, a gleam of mischief in his violet eyes. “Let’s make this more interesting. I’ll wager a silver that Ryouga puts you on your back in under three hits… and that you never lay so much as a finger on him.”

Mr. Muscles stared at Vector as if he’d never seen someone like him before. “You’ve gotta be joking! What, are you new?”

One of his buddies leaned forward as well. “I dunno, boss, I think we should take his money once you’re done.” A greedy smirk twisted his lips. “I say we take all of his money when you’re done.”

Vector smirked right back at him. I am going to kill you. “Let’s see how this fight comes out first.”

Mr. Muscles and Ryouga moved to the center of the room, Muscles’ minions moving the other tables and chairs out of the way to clear a space. Muscles flexed.

“Remember, all the pain you’re going to have is your own fault. Don’t blame me for it,” Muscles declared. “Got it?”

“Got it.” Ryouga looked more or less bored with the whole thing. Vector wondered where their ale was; it couldn’t take that long to pour out their drinks.

Then Muscles threw a fist at Ryouga, a hit that if it had connected would’ve probably hurt most people.

Ryouga stepped back and moved around, still looking as if this were the worst way to spend an afternoon he could think of, and not out of fear of being beaten up.

Muscles snarled at Ryouga’s near-effortless dodge, and the three or four that followed. “Stop running away! You’re not fighting!”

“All right, if you insist.” Ryouga shrugged before he powered one fist directly into Muscles’ chin, packed with every ounce of his strength behind it.

Muscles blinked. His eyes slowly rolled up to the back of his head and he fell over, not moving. One of his toughs dropped down next to him, hand to his throat. Vector approved of killing a leader while he was down. Perhaps this one showed a little sense.

Then the tough moved back. “He’s alive. He’s just out like a candle.”

Vector mentally sighed. It was so hard to find good assassins these days.

Then he smiled, looking at the rest of them. “I believe I won our wager. Hand over my money.” His eyes flicked from one to the other of them. “I think one silver from all of you will do.” And it would pay for their drinks, too, once the tavern keeper finally brought them out.

Two of the toughs dragged Mr. Muscles out of the tavern while the one who’d spoken up before now started to count out pieces of silver. Vector recounted them openly before he swept them into a neat stack.

“All right. The fun’s over, go away now.” He gave a little flick of one hand before he settled back into his dark cozy corner, quite satisfied with events so far.

The tavern keeper hurried over, carrying their drinks on a tray, and settled it down on the table in front of them. “Sorry for taking so long,” he apologized. “But I heard what was going on and I didn’t want to get in the middle of it and mess your drinks up.”

Ryouga shrugged, reaching for one of the mugs – which at leas looked clean – and tossing it back so fast Vector doubted that he even tasted it. “Sorry for any damages.”

The tavern keeper only shrugged. “Bejt and his group do that kind of thing whenever there’s new people in town. I’m used to it. Your drinks are on me tonight, and just tell me when you want to stop.” He turned toward Gilag, mouth open to ask something else, and froze.

Gilag set the bowl of water he’d been drinking from on their table, while Ponta peered up from where he held the mug of ale in his own paws. The tavern keeper blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then hurried out of sight, leaving them to their drinks.

“I don’t care how much money he could bring in if he’s a real bard,” Bejt growled, staring into the spotted mirror and trying to decide how much of what he saw was because of the low quality of the glass and how much was from that one hit that ridiculous musician landed on him. “I’m going to kill him and I’m going to have fun doing it.”

One of his assistants reached as if to pat him on the shoulder and got a death-glare sharp enough to cut paper from his efforts. He pulled his hand back and managed a quick smile. “Of course you will, boss. Doesn’t matter how good they are, once they finish drinking the good stuff, they’re not gonna be going anywhere we don’t want them to.”

Bejt grinned, showing a mouth that wasn’t nearly as full of teeth as someone without his lifetime of brawling would have. “That elf’s not going anywhere, not until I’m done with him. I’m going to have some fun and then when he’s nice and obedient, I know a goodplace to sell him. He’ll make us enough of a fortune to last for the next twenty years!”

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” One of his other assistants spoke up, a nervous twitch to one eye. This wasn’t surprising; Olan twitched about everything. “I mean, they’ve got horses. And one of them is a winged horse. And all that armor. And weapons.” He shuddered, ducking his head. “They look like they know how to use them.”

Bejt shrugged. “They wouldn’t be the first traveling mercs we’ve taken down. Won’t be the last, either.”

“I don’t think they’re just mercs. I mean, winged horse?” Olan shuddered again, staring up at his boss. “I think they’re heroes.”

“Yeah, right.” Bejt snorted. “The whole bunch of them don’t look like they’re together enough to kill a slug, let alone a dragon.” Heroes did things like that. At least they had in all the stories Bejt had ever heard. Killed dragons, rescued princesses from ravening monsters – or monsters from ravening princesses. He’d heard a lot of weird stories.

But that bunch? A musician, a pretty elf, what looked like a priestess, some short kid with maybe half of Bejt’s own muscles and too much of a sense of humor for Bejt’s tastes, someone in armor who might’ve been a down on his luck knight, some guy who had even more muscles than Bejt did but spent his time talking to some sort of fuzzy raccoon thing, and that idiot in the back who never let anyone get a good look at him.

That wasn’t what heroes were made out of it. Heroes had lots of good armor and didn’t stop in places like this, no matter what the weather looked like.

They might’ve thought pretending to be heroes would keep people off of them, but Bejt wasn’t most people. Once they had two or three rounds of the house special, they wouldn’t be awake enough to do anything at all.

That brought his thoughts right around to the pretty blond elf. Elves lived a very long time, he knew, and he couldn’t help but wonder what that elf had done in his life and how much he could be taught. Bejt looked forward to keeping him for at least a few years. He’d need to get properly trained before he could get sold, in order to make the most money, didn’t he? Bejt hadn’t ever trained someone before, but it couldn’t be that difficult. Smack ‘em when they did what Bejt didn’t want them to do until they learned better, that was it

It would definitely be a lot of fun. He looked forward to finding out just how much fun it was. He’d always had an eye for pretty faces of every kind, and there weren’t too many people prettier than an elf. He’d never had the chance to have one like this before, and he looked forward to finding out what it would be like.

All he needed was another hour or so, and then he and the others would be set for life.

Vector sniffed at the mug, then set it back down after taking a tiny taste of the ale. He’d never been much of one for drinking in the first place, at least not drinks that came from places like this. He wondered if it would be too much to ask if one of their mage-types could do something about the storm so they didn’t have to stay here at all.

We could get some decent food and drinks somewhere else. Maybe even a good bed. He knew that being on the road didn’t entitle him to the comforts of home, but they could at least have some comfort of some kind.

He leaned his head back against the wall and winced at the shock of thunder that rolled on by a heartbeat later. No one else looked bothered by the rain at all. Gilag sat on the outside of the table, closest to the door, and from the way he kept looking out there, it wouldn’t have been too surprising if he got up to wander out there. Druids did things like that, soaking up the rain. Vector had no idea of why druids couldn’t invest in some kind of weather protection. Maybe it was a religious thing.

He’d never wasted his time on religion and until he’d come to join this group, he hadn’t associated with religious types of any sort. But traveling with a druid and a priestess meant that he got more than he’d ever wanted of the whole concept.

He let his gaze drift back to Mizael. He could think of one or two gods he’d like to thank for the creation of the elven race and for Mizael in particular. Along with one or two he’d consider offering up a tribute to in order to get the elf compliantly in his bed, without risking Jinlong having him for dinner or the rest of the group getting furious at him.

Which meant he would have to keep on courting Mizael so that it was all willing on his side.

He wasn’t used to having to ask for what he wanted. Or who he wanted. He’d commented once at breakfast that he’d seen an attractive person the day before in the marketplace and that evening, that same person awaited him in his bed, courtesy of his father.

That had been an enjoyable few months, all things considered. If it had been possible, or workable with his father’s plans, he didn’t doubt that he would’ve already enjoyed time with Mizael.

I think this might be more interesting, though. Frustrating, but enjoyable in the end, once he’d achieved his goal. There was something to be said for getting something desired by hard work instead of being given it.

Vector glanced to the others again, the sound of the rain battering against the side of the building, making it plain they weren’t going anywhere right now. He suspected Rio and Gilag would both insist that they shouldn’t try to mess around with the weather, something about natural causes and not interfering. That made no sense to him at all. What good was magic if you couldn’t use it to twist the world around to the way you wanted it to be?

His eyes narrowed suddenly as he took in what was going on with his companions. He wasn’t surprised to see Gilag’s eyes drooping, let alone Ponta’s, not with that rain. If it didn’t call a druid out to dance in the rain or whatever, it would probably put them to sleep.

But Ponta spent so little time being visible when they were in civilized territory that Vector almost forgot he even existed. There he was, having finished his ale – you’d think a magical creature would have better taste than that! - and now curled up on Gilag’s lap, sound asleep.

Vector checked on Alit: already asleep. Durbe was as well, eyes closed and chest rising and falling evenly. Ryouga still had his eyes half-open, and Rio looked as if she were fighting off the urge to sleep herself.

He looked at Mizael then, and knew something was wrong.

Elves don’t sleep. Not like that, anyway. Mizael had explained it once, but Vector had been too wrapped up in admiring the way the sunlight glinted off the elf’s golden hair to pay attention. He sort of wished that weren’t true now.

But Mizael’s eyes were as tightly closed as the others, even as Ryouga’s slid all the way shut, and Rio followed him into slumber in another few moments.

This wasn’t right in the slightest. Vector’s thoughts raced before he chose his path, closed his eyes, and let himself sag a little more, as if he’d succumbed as well. There wasn’t any use in trying to wake them up. They’d be too sluggish to do anything for too long. Not to mention, Vector had a feeling he knew who was involved in this, and he swore he’d paint the walls with their blood.

He couldn’t see what was going on, but after what felt like forever, he could hear footsteps entering, and a sense of shadow fell over him. He kept himself from moving, no matter how much he wanted to, and listened.

To Be Continued

Note: And now we return to the world of the Order of the Outcasts. This is that little interlude piece to explain something. A larger piece revolving around Yuuma, Kaito, Haruto, and Astral will come at a later point, on SilvorMoon's profile. But until then, I hope you enjoy this.

[baddyzarc]

2/7 Ruins: Legend of the Gladiator

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The next Barian ruins I wanna discuss is that of Alito. I was supposed to group Gilag and Alito since my contract says I’m legally not allowed to separate these two. But I went absolutely ham on Alito’s ruins so, uhhh, im splitting them up.

Alito is a fascinating, fantastic character. Not only is he outwardly bisexual and genuinely a non-evil character, he’s one of the most interesting due to how the writers use him to progress the narrative of the Barian Emperors. This could be attributed to his close relationship with Yuma, and thus he’s allowed ample screen time to play his role in the story.

Alito’s ruins are located under an artificial lake in the fictional city of Spartan City located somewhere in Italy. The ruins are revealed when Alito blows up the dam and drains the water away. Judging by the presence of a colosseum and the fact that Alito was a gladiator in his past life, I’m sure this is supposed to be based on Rome’s Colosseum. Not a big shocker, but this sets up the basis for the discussion. 

The Guardian for this Mythyrian Number found in the ruins (Number 54: Rebellious Fighter - Lion Heart) is a gladiator. This Guardian is the hardest one to decipher out of all of the Guardians. You have Mach, Ponta, Abyss, Minotaurus, Jinlon, and then a random gladiator. Each of the Guardians I listed have something to say about the Emperor it corresponds to, and I believe that the gladiator also falls into this category because of this line.

The gladiator recognizes Alito. This confused line is also spoken by Jinlon when he first encounters Mizael, so it can be said that some of the Guardians may not immediately recognize their Emperor, but they do feel their “aura”. 

Like Jinlon, the gladiator takes a moment before realizing its attacker is Alito. After that, Alito breaks through its power and gains him to get control of the Mythyrian Number. 

The most common theory, and the one I personally believe, is that the gladiator is the prince of the legend. 

My evidence is slim, but I think his likeness to the Mythyrian Number "Number 54: Rebellious Fighter - Lion Heart", his usage of a sword during his fight with Alito, and strong familiarity with Alito (”we’re like brothers!”) provides enough evidence. Not the best or decisive, but from what we have, I like this one the most.

Not only that, and I may be reading into this scene a little too deeply, but it looks as though the gladiator recognizes that this angry blob of hate is Alito, and under some choice of its own, it  allows itself to be taken by a Barian. Rather, the Mythyrian Number yields to a Barian. (For reference, only Nasch and Gilag came into direct contact with their Numbers; each has their own situation with Nasch’s being more complex and Gilag’s being similar to Alito). But why would something like a Mythyrian Number give itself to a Barian? I’ll get into that when I talk about the Ruins Duel later on.  

Back onto the ruins itself, when I first started this, I was truly struggling to see how the past and present are the same place. 

Obviously they have to be the same place because that’s how the plot works, but looking at the placement of the mountains, this image of the ruins in modern Spartan City does not match the geography of the past (unless there’s a glacial retreat or something, mountains do not wear away that quickly). I assumed that the animators didn’t consider this until I found a single second that shows that these locations are the same place. The image of Yuma is a poor angle of the ruins. 

And luckily for this shot, it gives me not only a confirmation that the geography is consistent, it also allows me to use this as an accurate frame of reference for the layout of the city.

Hold onto this information for a minute, because it is absolutely tasty.

Now that I confirm that everything is consistent, I can move onto Alito’s legend. His legend is straightforward if you discount the false memories embedded in him. Alito was a popular gladiator who was also friends with the prince. They frequently fought head-to-head and were on equal footing with each other. According to the legend, Alito and the prince were going to have a final showdown to see who comes out on top. However, the prince’s advisors were afraid that the prince would lose and damage the reputation of the country. The advisors framed Alito for murder, and despite the prince’s plead that Alito was innocent, he was executed under charges of murder. But according to Alito’s memories (or the ones altered by Don Thousand), the prince declared him guilty and was the one to call his death. Alito, being a hero adorned by many, was betrayed by his best friend and scorned by the people of the city, and this was what pushed him to Barian World. 

(Side track: But this is one of my favorite scene of his legend. The casket-shaped shadow, the crystalline, Barian-like shape, is a prelude to his fate after being framed for murder through the works of Don Thousand. At this point, no matter what happens, only death waits for him. The bright crimson coloration not only alludes to his bloody demise but also his descension into Barian World.) 

Now, the past lives of the Barians are often mucky because it’s hard to distinguish the truth from the lie, especially since Don Thousand altered the lives of the Emperors in many different ways (memory change, influencing outsiders, personality alterations, ect. It gets disgustingly messy). But in the case of Alito, it appears to be influencing the advisors to frame Alito, and then a memory alteration to where Alito believes that the prince was against him rather than for him. Because of this, I assume the legend recounted by Gauche (aka the advisors framed Alito + the prince was for Alito’s innocence) is the truth. I believe that if Alito knew the prince thought highly of him and trusted him during the entire trial, this would’ve been enough to allow his soul to pass onto Astral World regardless of the truth.

Therefore, Alito’s resentment exists as a product of Don Thousand going into his mind and changing his perception of reality. 

And this statement is what ties his character together during this arc. 

Now, if you know anything about this blog, you oughta know that I do not believe the Barian Emperors are evil. Except Vector. Vector is evil. He is evil because he feels like it and that’s it; it makes him happy hes a freak. The rest of them act like that because they are living-beings and have some self preservation. If they do not retaliate, Astral World will literally erase them from history. Each of the Barians (vector DNI) exemplifies this concept throughout the show. They are not antagonizing Yuma because he’s the hero. They are antagonizing him because he sides with Astral, and thus he supports the side that wants them dead. (and ngl, aside from Vector, they are incredibly inept at being evil villains, just look at their accomplishments if you take Vector away, gilag ate a live racoon whoop-de-doo these guys are going extinct)  

But this isn’t what this essay is about. This is about the legend and ruins of Alito, who is the most prominent in his lack of evilness. At the beginning of Zexal Second, Durbe ordered Gilag, Alito, and Mizael to defeat Yuma and Astral. From here, these characters acted first on orders, and then on self-motivation (or not at all). Mizael followed this order before getting side-tracked with surpassing Kaito. Gilag followed this order before kinda just joining a bunch of random clubs at school and watching *looks at script* Love Live. 

Alito did not followed that order and was immediately infatuated with Kotori. And by chance BY CHANCE did he run into Yuma, before being infatuated with him too. Alito has zero drive to be evil or follow any orders. He doesn’t hate humans nor does he act on anything malicious. Even with Yuma, his drive wasn’t to defeat Astral but to duke it out with Yuma with as much passion as possible. 

This is a stark contrast to what happens to him (and Gilag) when Vector injects their comatosed bodies with Don Thousand juice. This happens Twice. And each time, he loses his passion and becomes a genuinely evil person. He hypnotizes Gauche and makes him use the adverse effects of “Lion Heart”, he puts Kotori in danger, he wants to kill Yuma, he is filled with so much hate and rage that all the characters point out that “this isn’t the same person” they originally met. 

In essence, he became cruel by coming into recontact with Don Thousand. 

But we all know this. Don Thousand is evil while Alito is not.

So how does this prologue connect to the ruins and the Legend of the Gladiator? It has everything to do with Gauche.

Consider the geography of this again.

Even though it doesn’t appear like it, these images reveal some information about Alito and his proxy, Gauche. Compare the geography of the mountains and the placement of ruins, look at the current location of where Gauche and Droite live in the present and Alito’s home in the past. 

It’s the exact same place.

Neat, yes, but also consider that Alito was a hero to the children of his time and Gauche wants to be a hero to the children of his time. (“A Messenger From The Stars For The Kids”) Not only that, these two have an interesting relationship with Yuma. At first, Gauche dismissed Yuma before seeing that his unbreakable spirit makes him a worthy opponent. Same with Alito. They also get possessed by Barian powers in order to fight without their iconic fiery passion. These two characters are thoroughly similar if you can look past the surface level (also they were opponents during the Barian Onslaught arc if that counts for anything). 

From here, we can draw direct parallels between the fate of Gauche and Alito. 

On a historical note, I assume that Alito is not from Spartan City. Most gladiators in real life consisted of slaves, prisoners of war, or criminals, and if you consider the “Alito’s Theme” soundtrack and his “Farewell, My Friend” soundtrack (which I believe only plays after he frees Gilag from Don’s curse, but correct me if I’m wrong, also these are two of my favorite soundtracks), it sounds like it has vaguely Spanish origins to it. (again, correct me if im wrong, im not good at cultural interpretation of music)

The theory I accept is that Alito was a prisoner of war for some other country, say modern-day Spain. Gladiators in real life, if popular enough, can win back their freedom, and I assume Alito’s charisma, passion, and strength won him the favor of the public and the prince along with his freedom. He still fought, of course, but this may be due to his drive to keep fighting. 

Unlike Alito, Gauche is a native to Spartan City, but he started in the similar wrungs as Alito, although not like, slavery. He was an orphan living in the streets with Droite, and he also used his charisma, passion, and strength to rise as the Dueling Champion of Spartan City. 

Both of these characters are champions of their respective times, but Alito got decapitated while Gauche did not (so far). If Don did not interfere, Alito might’ve received a happy ending like Gauche.

This connection doesn’t go much further until we get into the Ruins Duel with Alito/Gauche vs. Yuma/Droite. And this duel is what I think storytelling through duels should be like.

Earlier, I talked about how the Guardian allows Alito to gain control of the Number. I do not think this is a fluke on the Numbers part. Mythyrian Numbers are the antithesis to Over-Hundred Numbers, and the only way to break the spell of Don Thousand is to use a Mythyrian Number. I believe that the Guardian saw that Alito was under Donny’s influence, and thus gave him the Mythyrian Number in hopes of snapping him out of it. 

This happens with Gilag too, where Ponta hands him the Mythyrian Number before swapping into his body (as well as Ryouga but this was before he was declared an Emperor, and i will get to this when i cover him). The only other Emperor who got close to his Mythyrian card but didn’t touch it was Vector, who made Black Mist deal with it; that said, I wonder what would’ve happened if Vector reconnected with his Mythyrian? 

Back to duel, will you believe me when I say that the actions of this duel tells the story of the Barian Emperors? Maybe, maybe not.

But I do not think it’s a coincidence that Alito is the only Barian that participates in the Mythyrian Numbers duels (mr. Ryouga and ms. Rio do not count for obvious reasons) nor is it that he fights under the full influence of Don Thousand. 

There is a lot that happens in the duel under the text, but the overall message of the duel is the rekindling of the original self. This is in opposition to Gauche and Alito, who lost their true spirits after being possessed. In contrast, Yuma and Droite duel with as much, if not more, passion than ever before. 

The duel, although not spectacular in terms on the plays made, has a lot of interesting imaginary that I appreciate so much. 

I think this scene is the most lovely of this entire duel: a fearsome lion and a tender butterfly facing off against one another. The butterfly is able to move the heart of the lion, and Gache returns to his original soul with Droite’s unyielding passion alone. He isn’t freed, but this action opens the door to his heart. 

Droite’s actions mimics the flow of Yuma returning Alito to his original soul. Instead of responding to his hate-filled dueling with a similar stance, Yuma duels with relentless passion, summoning out “Heroic Champion - Excalibur” and letting in face off against “Number 54: Rebellious Fighter - Lion Heart”. This is enough to save Alito from Don Thousand’s spell.

Furthermore, I feel as though this entire duel is closure for Alito’s past life whether he realizes it or not. As you know, Alito and the prince never had their final match due to Don Thousand’s interference. This duel concludes their fight and put the souls of both parties to rest (figuratively speaking). 

As the duel picks up, the stadium comes to life with the spirits of the spectators. They cheer for the duelists as the fight gets more and more intense. It’s as though the characters are thrown into the past.

The final move of the duel is what gives this “Legend of the Gladiator” the closure it deserves while presenting an amazing end to the narrative of Alito and Gauche. 

As Gauche and Yuma duke it out with “Lion Heart” and “Excalibur”, two monsters that are passionately battling one another, Alito interferes with “Cheat Commissioner”. This is no different than when the advisors cheated in order to murder Alito, thus preventing the final match from commencing. The strength of “Number 54: Rebellious Fighter - Lion Heart” and “Heroic Champion - Excalibur” was able to overcome “Cheat Commissioner” and as a result, Alito is instantly knocked out rather than Yuma or Gauche. 

Alito’s Mythyrian Number and Gauche’s former ace—their passionate souls working together to defeat a common foe, freeing their masters and returning them to their original self.

The presence of “Lion Heart” and the knockout of Alito’s “Cheat Commissioner” (or Don Thousand’s interference with Alito and the prince in the past) was enough for Alito to shake off Don Thousand’s control and revert back to his original personality. He’s confused and baffled as his memories as a human flood into him, but he quickly retreats back to Barian World. 

A similar outcome happened when Yuma faced off against the gladiator version of Michael, who is a character who shares many similar traits with Alito. I talked about this before and I rather post this here than rewrite a decent explanation of my thoughts. 

Yuma was able to free Michael of his hateful and rage-filled state like how he did it during this duel with Alito and their final encounter. 

But from the contents of this duel alone, it is revealed that Don Thousand has the ability to alter the Emperors’ minds; he can also influence even the kindest Barian to act cruel and sadistic. It demonstrates that enough passion and force from their Mythyrian Number is enough for them to shake off the control—if only a little bit—and return them to their true nature. It also cements that the true memories of the Barian Emperors are suppressed and hidden from them, and they are the heroes we suspect they are, but unknown (but probably Don Thousand-based) circumstances sent them to Barian World without their consent.

You can take all of this was a grain of salt or say im looking too deep into it but,

This is what I mean when I said “story-telling through duels” should be something like this. There shouldn’t be a character in the background recounting what’s happening below the subsurface. Seeing a battle between a lion and butterfly, or the knockout of “Cheat Commissioner” through Alito’s Mythyrian Monster and Gauche’s original ace monster, or the awakening of the spectators to cheer for Alito—this should be left for the audience to dissect. I’m not gonna say this is my favorite duel or the plays are amazing, but I truly appreciate the story it shows without the characters looking at the camera and expositioning what this means. 

This analysis is long enough as it is, but I want to end it by talking about “Number 54: Rebellious Fighter - Lion Heart” and and “Number 105: Burning Knuckler - Cestus the Meteor”. They’re both based on fighting, which fits Alito’s personality. These monsters (as well as Vector’s) are unique in that they are the only ones that swap attributes between the Mythyrian and Over-Hundred Numbers. “Lion Heart'' is an Earth Monster while Cestus is a Fire Monster. I’m actually quite stumped on this decision. Lion Heart looks like it should be a Fire Monster based on the colors of its design, the fiery background, and fiery spirit it uses to keep fighting even after death.

However, despite this, I think it’s a cool idea that the Over-Hundred is a Fire Monster. According to the legend, the gladiator is said to “still wander the ruins of the Colosseum” because he “... regrets… not being able to finish his fight with his rival”. 

To “seal the wandering spirit of the unappeased gladiator” the Colosseum was submerged underwater. 

Water suppresses the flames that Don Thousand forced into Alito, and as the water drains away, revealing the earth beneath it, after a thousand years, the lost gladiator wanders through the ancient ruins of the Colosseum once more. And through the cheers and hollers of the spirits that transcends time, the champion and lion partake in their final showdown. With the conclusion of the intense battle, the bantering of the spirits fade away in the glow of rising sun, and gladiator of the legend is liberated.

[cherrysnowclone]

[Valentine's Meihem] You're My Flame

Gift for @reaper-botherer

I could not ask for a more perfect recipient, and I tried very hard to write something delightful for you. It really helped that you had great suggestions for what you wanted - I went with the one about Mei and Jamie cooking, and put my own spin on it. I hope you have a wonderful day!

Summary: Mei attempts to surprise Jamie with a meal while they are out on a mission - but when Mei hurts herself and Jamie steps in to help out, they end up surprising each other.

About 5000 words; only fic warning is one really terrible pun early on.

Incredibly, impossibly, dangerously outdated appliances. Mei didn’t know that until too late.

The pan finally finished tumbling on the floor, and clattered to a stop against a cabinet. The half-cooked beef roast sat on its side on the linoleum floor. Some of the juice slowly pooled around it. Mei, who had sunk to her knees on the floor, could only regard it sadly as she cradled her right hand to her chest.

The door from the den slammed open, opposite from where she sat in the small kitchen. Jamison lept out from the dark, wearing only his pajama pants, and his hair somehow even more disheveled after sleeping, all of it smashed towards the right.

“Heard screamin’!” He waved around a bronze lamp in one hand, and looked around the room wildly. “Who is it? Lemme at ‘em!”

“Nobody’s here.” She sniffled, and dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. “I just hurt myself.”

“Hurt?” He set the lamp on the counter behind him and took a knee beside her. “How? Where?”

Mei bit on her lip, trying to keep down more crying. She drew her hand from her chest and splayed it open - most of her hand was bright red, except for her palm and fingers. The skin cracked a blistering white.

His face also blanched, once he got a good look at her injury. Jamie’s hands twitched in midair, like he wanted to do something but had no idea what. “Uh…I see…we gotta take care of that…”

“I know. Snowball?” Her little robot woke himself up out of his charging dock, set in the corner. It hovered over, looked at her hand and beeped in sympathy. Then, Snowball blew layers of frost over her palm and fingers, until her whole right hand was covered in a translucent glove of ice. Within a few moments, her hand numbed, and she didn’t feel anything at all, not pain or anything else. It’d heal better like this, but it also left her hand basically useless. Snowball chirped, spinning around her hand to celebrate a job well done, then drifted back to his charging station to get some more energy for tomorrow.

She sighed, and realized that Jamie still was beside her, his hands wringing anxiously. She wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks with her uninjured hand, and tried to crack a small smile for him.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m okay. Besides being clumsy, and an idiot.” She pulled her knees up against her chest and sighed again, this time towards the roast on the floor. “The stoves I am used to cook only the food, not the pan too. I did not realize this old thing was so different. So I started cooking, and wanted to see how it was doing, and grabbed the pan, and…”

“Was nice and hot, seems like.”

“Yes.” Unsaid, she wondered if he thought she was a moron. Even though she didn’t register the pain anymore, Mei’s nerves still rattled, and she struggled to fully regain her composure.

Jamie, still crouched beside her, poked at the oozing beef chuck with a metal finger. “Didn’t even know we had food like this around.”

Of course he didn’t know. After they returned from scouting the nearby forest, he took his usual afternoon nap, and Mei seized her chance to be alone. She raced to the closest little grocer she could find, and bought the roast as well as some other fresh food, since Reinhardt’s cabin seemed to have none. The rice was already done, and rested in the cooker. She had garnishes for the meat, and some greens in the fridge. It was all supposed to be a surprise. He was supposed to wake up to the smell of a wonderful dinner, not to her childish screaming.

Mei pressed her forehead to her knees. “I’m sorry. I was really hoping for a special meal.”

Jamie tilted his head at her. “Why you apologizin’ to me about that?” But she couldn’t respond to him, and just hugged her knees closer to herself.

She heard him stand up, pace around the kitchen a bit. He tossed the pan into the metal sink, then paced a bit around her, then the roast.

“Ughn! You’re acting like you ruined the thing.” Jamie lifted the roast, which was about the size of a small bag of rice, and threw it onto the counter. By the time Mei lifted her face from her knees, he had found an automatic carving knife, and sliced off the long, flat part of the roast that had touched the floor. “That good?”

“I…I guess.” If it were only her own night she ruined, Mei would’ve dumped the roast in the trash and ordered some pizza instead. Now, with Jamie around, she had to be more careful about food waste - even if the meat was lab-grown, she knew it was more than he ever even seen growing up. He looked over the oven now, opening the door and looking inside, closed the door, and considered the control panel carefully.

“Bleh.” He threw the knobs of the oven all to OFF. “Forget it. If you couldn’t make it go, I don’t stand a chance.”

“I was able to make it work, I just-

He wasn’t listening. He just continued to think out loud, tapping his lip and pacing around the kitchen. “How about a blowtorch? Or a small flamethrower? Or…oh!”

She dropped her knees to her side, and twisted around to watch him. “What is it?”

He threw the side door open, looked out, and apparently saw something among the snow and forest that made his grin fire up to 100%. “Ah, there’s one!”

“Jamie?” But he was gone, through the door and out into the late afternoon chill. She sighed deeply, and considered her frozen hand while she waited for him to come back in.

Had he gone to grab something from the truck? But the minutes drew out and he hadn’t returned. Mei had just managed to pull herself up from the floor when she heard a great electric roar, and the scream of metal.

“Jamie?!”

She ran outside in time to see two halves of an old steel beer barrel fall apart into a top and a bottom half, and Jamie laughing among the shower of sparks that sprayed across the snow. Still without his shirt, or sock or shoe for that matter, he pumped the whirring wireless buzzsaw over his head triumphantly, like a prize.

A fainting spell passed over Mei, swaying her on her feet. She braced herself in the doorframe, and after a moment, made herself call, “What are you doing?”

“You’ll love it!” he yelled back, not answering her question at all. He turned off the saw and ran it back to the shed, and returned with a hammer. He ignored the top half of the beer barrel, but the lower half he pinned to the ground with his peg leg, then cracked the hammer against the walls of the barrel, widening it. He ended up with something almost bowl-shaped, with the rounded flat bottom of the barrel still intact. It looked about the size of an open umbrella when he was done with it.

He kicked the snow off of some logs, and Mei didn’t realize until now that those logs were arranged in a circle around a slightly depressed pit. Jamie lifted the half-barrel over his head, showing it off to her apparently, and then set it over the center of the little fire area.

“A grate! Get me a grate!”

“I’m getting you a coat first.”

He sprinted back into the kitchen, zooming right past Mei. He opened the oven door, and wrestled out one of the wire racks. Mei managed to throw a jacket over Jamie’s shoulders as he ran back out the door - one of Reinhardt’s jackets, in dark brown suede - which draped off of his thin frame like a cloak. He wouldn’t wait long enough for his shoe and sock, so she tossed them out the door after him.

“Slow down! Jamie, what has gotten into you?”

He cackled brightly. “We’re gonna make fire, woman!” Jamie pointed to Mei as she watched him from the side door. “Grab me the meat and a beer!”

“Get it yourself, you Neanderthal.”

“Oh! Funny you mention that…” His eyes positively glowed and his grin spanned his face. “I think you’ll find out that I’m more of a… barbe-que-barian!”

Mei threw up her hands and shut the door on him. His ringing laughter followed her around the kitchen.

She hadn’t considered a meal outside, not in this winter, but since he seemed committed to it, she now wondered what they would need. She filled a tray with things: the rice she made, salt and spices and sauce she bought at market, four bowls, utensils, gloves, napkins. A teapot filled with water, tea and some mugs. After she had gathered the things, she drew on her own coat and boots, and went outside again.

He had dragged a flat crate close to the pit, apparently as a prep table. She set the tea, rice, and all the utensils on it, then on her second trip, she brought the beef chuck on a cutting board, and the knife next to it.

Mei looked into the barbecue pit and winced. It seemed that while she was in the kitchen, he had dumped a pile of scrap and debris into the bottom of the half-barrel, apparently not checking to see if it was all burnable first. So she pulled out the varnished wood and plastic scraps she’d rather not have burning up and releasing carcinogens into the meal. But Stuttgart’s forest was old and filled with fallen branches and logs, and he easily found more fuel. Jamie basically skipped back to the pit with a new pile of wood, and used a knife to hack the damp bark off of them.

Reinhardt must have been fond of his fire pit. After digging around the shed for a few minutes, Mei found a bundle of dried almond wood, some metal skewers, a fire extinguisher (she sighed in relief at that one), and a leather satchel filled with grilling utensils. She gathered them up and deposited them next to Jamie, who knelt by the pit arranging the logs and the quick-burning trash. She sank onto a log and exhaled deeply, exhausted by all this unexpected work just to get a meal going.

“I hope this is safe,” she said.

“Course it is. I’m an expert!” He shot her a thumbs-up - the tip of his metal thumb, of course, flipped back to expose an open flame. He put his hand in the barbeque bowl and lit up the balled-up newspapers and paper trash in there.

She poured herself some tea, and watched him work for a little while. Over the time she had known him, she discovered that if he had something to focus all of his attention on, a lot of his erratic tics seemed to melt away. He deftly cut the roast into thin strips, hand moving smoothly from cut to cut, and then threaded the meat onto metal skewers. He clapped his hands when he was done, all the skewers arranged in a line on the cutting board.

“I put some spice on the roast already,” Mei said. “Did you want more?”

“Oh yeah, way more.” He looked over the arrangement she had though, and uncertainty crossed his brow. “Ain’t sure what all this is though.”

She extended a spoon to him. “Let’s experiment then.”

It was slow going with only one hand, but Mei poured or shook out a little bit of each of the flavorings, one by one, and had them taste it off the spoon. What he liked, she mixed together in one of the bowls she brought out.

“This one,” he said, pointing at the dark sauce bottle she had him sample. “Whassat?”

“Hoisin.”

“Hoisin,” he repeated. “That’s a good one. Lotsa that.”

“Good.” She would have cried if she had to have roast without it. Next was some hot sauce, which she dabbed delicately onto the spoon and extended to him. “How hot should it be?”

“As hot as it gets.” He brushed aside the offered spoon, and waggled his eyebrows at her. “How much fire do you think you can handle, sweets?”

Mei stared him down, matching his suggestive look with a bland, stoic one of her own. Then, while holding his gaze, she poured an extremely generous measure of the hot sauce into the bowl. “There.”

He laughed aloud in his seat, his feet stomping into the dirt and snow. “I love it!” he hollered, apparently to the trees and forest around them. “This peach is a spitfire!”

She shook her head, a blush finally rising to her cheeks. “You are so embarrassing.”

“Yeah?” He grinned. “Who’s to know?”

Eventually the marinade was finished, a goopy, thick dark mess. Jamie tested a dab of it and practically shivered. With care and focus again, he brushed the marinade over the strips, then set them over the grill, one at a time. Though the fire looked lower than before, it still burned incredibly hot, because the meat started sizzling in no time. Mei had been too busy before to notice how incredibly hungry she felt right now.

“Wow.”

He picked up a skewer with his metal hand, and spun around a pair of metal chopsticks in his other. He expertly plucked the meat off the skewer with the chopsticks, and offered it to Mei. “Here’s some for ya.”

She extended her bowl towards him, and let him pile the steaming, delicious looking grilled meat over her rice. Before she could tear into it herself, Jamie snatched up a small piece of beef in his chopsticks and hovered it in front of her face. “Say ‘ah’.”

“Ah.”

“Now say ‘ooooh, Mr. Fawkes~ You’re so handsome and talented.’”

She didn’t, she was too busy chewing. She had to fan her mouth against the heat. “Jamie,” she managed to say, “this is-”

Branches snapped and snow crashed down somewhere high in the trees behind them. In the back of her mind, Mei knew that she should expect this, but still ended up surprised at the loud thud that thundered the ground a few meters behind them. A silhouette appeared through the brush, and strode with heavy, armored steps towards the glow of the fire pit.

The figure took off her helmet. Though thin, dark blue fabric protected the lower half of her face from the cold, absolutely no one could mistake this woman’s sharp eyes, her udjat tattoo.

“Fareeha.” Mei stood up from her log. She hid her iced hand behind her back, deciding that she was not ready to explain it yet. “How did your scouting go?”

“Surprisingly well. There are some promising locations for us to dig up tomorrow.”

There was a secret directive hidden in the code of the sentry robots that were deployed here in the outskirts of Stuttgart, a secret Overwatch only got wind of within the last week. Mei had asked Zenyatta, carefully, to probe Bastion’s memory for any hint of what it had forgotten, but Bastion had rewritten so much of itself, and the data was gone. The rewrite was a wonder of Bastion’s free will, of course, but the loss of its data made Overwatch’s investigation all the more difficult. Recovering other sentry bot from Eichenwalde might help them crack the code.

But someone else was now spiriting away the other broken bots, it seemed. After twenty years of leaving them to rust, someone only now found it urgent to take the remaining sentries away. But who, and why? Mei hoped they could recover a robot before she got the chance to find out.

Only Mei gave Fareeha a standing welcome. Jamie glanced over his shoulder instead, a nervous habit of his. Mei knew who he looked for, but Roadhog wasn’t even on the same continent as them right now. Jamie instead grunted and shoved his hands into his coat’s pockets, and slumped into his seat even deeper. He didn’t want Fareeha to notice him, and she never wanted to talk to him.

The captain was still for a few moments, considering the scene carefully. Mei realized she was staring at the fire pit, and the collection of Reinhardt’s barbeque gear next to it.

“Are you alright?” Mei asked.

“Ah, yes. This just brought back some memories.” Fareeha sat down on one of the logs, and set her helmet on the seat next to her. “I didn’t expect to come home to such a…rustic meal.”

“I bought some things in town,” Mei explained. She found the third bowl she had filled with rice, and extended it to the captain. “I had enough of the rations, and wanted to make something special.”

“A welcome surprise in weather this cold.”

Fareeha picked few skewers off the sizzling grate, then slid the beef slices on top of her rice, like Mei’s. She cut them into smaller portions with her chopsticks, then scooped up a mouthful into her mouth. Her eyes brightened in surprise. “It’s so good! You surprise me with all of your talents, Mei.”

Mei glanced at Jamie, already pretty sure of what she’d see. His face was so incredibly emotive, a mixed blessing because she always could tell how he felt, for better or worse. He glowed with pride, for a moment, then the next his whole face fell.

She lifted a finger to her lips. Sssh. His lips twitched in a brief snarl, and he crossed his arms and looked aside.

“Fareeha, that is very kind of you to say. What about it do you like?”

“These strips! They are so tender. It has a bit of crisp and crust on it, but it melts on the inside.” She took a break for a moment, and seemed to savor the steam and smell for a moment. “And it is spiced very well.”

“That is very high praise.” Mei saw one of Jamie’s eyes peek open, looking back at her. She smiled to him, then back to Fareeha.

The captain “Actually, it reminds me of a beef rice bowl I once had, at a nice sit-down in Tokyo. Not the same flavors, but the same feel? This is very spicy, by the way.”

Mei laughed softly. “Hear that, Jamison? It tasted like a real restaurant cooked it.”

Fareeha was halfway through chewing another mouthful of her meal when her attention darted up to Mei. “Hm?”

“I didn’t cook tonight.” Mei lifted her iced-over hand. Fareeha put her hand to her mouth and gasped softly. “Well, I tried to, but I burned myself. Then Jamison graciously suggested to grill instead, so we wouldn’t waste the ingredients.”

The captain peered at him. “Is that so?”

“Totally selfishly! Not being nice at all!” He huffed, his arms still crossed, and shook his head. “I thought I’d puke if I had to eat them dried army bits again!”

“I made the rice, and helped a little with the spices.” Mei smiled. “But Jamison is the real artist here. Beef was always my favorite, but this is the best I’ve ever had.”

Jamie’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Fareeha paused eating. She glanced between Mei and Jamison a few times, definite confusion over her face. Sudden panic flared up in Mei’s spine. Had she been too obvious? But she had told the truth. And Jamie stared at Mei like he’d never heard a kinder thing in his life.

Maybe Fareeha would assume that Mei was being agreeable? So she smiled sweetly at the captain, and added, “Meals with teammates always taste better, right captain?”

“Yes. I suppose that’s true,” Fareeha finally said. She tapped the barrel with her armored toe. “Well, I did assume this contraption was a Junker’s doing.”

He straightened up in his seat and waved his arms around. “Of course! Made us a good ol’ fashioned barrel barbeque, just like home.”

Fareeha’s expression towards him changed somewhat - she still looked stern, but less interrogating, Mei thought. “Oh, Mr. Fawkes? Was this arrangement common for you?”

“Every night! Rain or shine! Dust or smog!” He then rubbed his hair with the heel of his hand, looking somewhat sheepish for a moment. “Except, I ain’t cook for an audience in a while.”

“I’m sorry I assumed then.” She looked thoughtfully at Jamie, like she was still trying to measure her opinion of him. “It seems like you are a man of more-than-one talent.”

“Ha! And plenty more where that came from, promise you that!”

Mei giggled into her hand. He was blushing! Jamie must have noticed, since he shot a glance back at her, muttered something to himself, and finally lifted his own food to his face and ate.

The conversation drifted to the details of Fareeha’s scouting, and the schedule for tomorrow’s search. Fareeha was almost exhaustingly thorough, wanting backup plans and a location to fall back to in case they encountered trouble. Mei paid close attention because Jamie definitely wasn’t. The glowing comments about his food made him even more attentive towards the second batch of beef slices, but Mei also noticed him glancing at her quite often, almost shy glances that darted quickly away whenever she caught him.

Mei scooped out more rice for everyone, and Jamie leaned over to serve Fareeha another skewer of beef strips. But at the last moment he held it back, and wagged a finger at her. “Second helping - only if ya give me a look at one of them missiles.”

Fareeha’s eyes widened in surprise. At first, Mei was certain she would reprimand Jamie. But her face slowly softened, and she extended her bowl to him anyway.

“Maybe for Thanksgiving. Just to see you flash-cook a turkey with it.”

He stared at her for a moment, then slapped his knee and laughed. He dropped the strips in her bowl and she smiled thinly.

“It’s getting too cold out here for me. I’m going to take this inside.” She scooped up her helmet, then nodded at them as she stood up. “Thank you for dinner.”

The logs cracked and spit up some embers into the air. Even though the fire wasn’t as fierce as it was before, Mei’s skin still prickled from the warmth radiating from it. She closed her eyes and exhaled in relief. In her original plan, she and Jamie would have finished their dinner before Fareeha had come home. But somehow, this had worked out anyway.

His voice, low, reached her over the fire. “Hey.”

“Yes?”

“When’s Thanksgiving?”

She searched her memory. “I think…October?”

“Aw.” He propped his chin on his hands. “That’s a long time.”

“That’s okay.” She smiled at him. “I think Fareeha likes you better now.”

Jamie huffed and looked away. “Like I care what Jet Pack thinks of me.”

Mei watched the lights of different cabin rooms flick on and off, until it seemed like Fareeha settled into one room. Only then did Mei get up, and moved so that she could be closer to him. She hated hiding, but Overwatch couldn’t know about their relationship yet - they might separate her from Jamie, and stop them from going on missions together. Even the thought of that made her heart ache.

She hugged him from behind, pressed her chest to his back, and rest her cheek on his shoulder. He was warm like a glowing furnace, even in this cold. He turned his face towards hers, his eyes curious, and wondering.

“I believe that you always try your best,” she whispered in Chinese, quiet as a breath. She used to be so scared that he’d lash out, undo even the meager amount of trust the other agents had in him, and then flee Overwatch and all the protection it could offer a man on the run. But even with Roadhog gone, Jamie surprised her with his determination to prove himself. He tried so hard every day - to be good, to make friends, to do right by her.

She touched along the side of his jaw. He wanted so badly to belong. Once she had realized that, everything she had understood about him changed.

“Hm?” He hadn’t understood her quietly-spoken Chinese, and waited for her to repeat herself.

“I said, I love you for being so strong,” she said, in English. “And brave.”

The best part was watching his eyes widen. “I…uhhhh…”

She held her arms all the tighter around his chest, and smiled at him - the small and sweet smile that he once said made him go completely stupid. “And you are so cheerful all the time, and always make me laugh.”

Now he kicked his feet and squirmed in her loving chokehold. His face and ears bloomed with bright red blushes. “That’s not fair! Yer killing me!”

She pressed two light kisses to the side of his jaw. “And every day, I find more reasons to love you.”

He reached his arm back around her waist, lifted her and swung her around until she sat sideways across his thighs. Mei squealed and kicked out her feet, looking for her balance, when he kept a hand and her back and dipped her low. If she tilted her head back just a little, she’d see the forest upside-down behind her. But Mei couldn’t even think of anything but his bright gold eyes upon hers.

“You’re playing with fire, Snowflake,” he warned in a low, growl. Jamie loomed over her, and she shivered from the thrill of him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to drive me crazy.”

She put her hand to her mouth. “I would never!”

He looked so alive. “You give me wild ideas. Like that I’d want to grab ya like this, run off into the woods, and keep you just for me.”

“Oh no,” she whispered, as if the prospect was actually frightening. “Not that.”

Then he did what she wished he’d do - he ducked his face close, smirked, and kissed her. First lightly, fleeting and full of affection that she could drown in, and then when she gasped, a real one. But he kissed far too slowly, perhaps second-guessing his ability, or her delicacy. So she grabbed his coat collar with her good hand and pulled him to her, hoping to rid him of any doubt of what she wanted. She thought he smelled quite wonderful tonight, warm, like scorched bark, pine, sandalwood, and spice. The smell, and the heat of him, made her practically melt against Jamie, and soon the tension left his uncertain hands and lips as well.

Mei let the ice glove over her right hand snap, and even though her palm still hurt a little bit, she clutched at the back of his jacket, wanting to close every gap between them. His arms folded around her and matched the possessiveness, the need in her embrace. Alone, together in this snowy forest, her heart poured out for him with no reserve. She kissed so urgently and clung so tightly as if it were a ward against the rest of the world, against all the terrible forces that would take him from her, if only given a chance. No, she never wanted that, would never let that happen…

A loud crashing sound managed to cut through the thick fog of emotions. Her thoughts jarred. Noise, from the kitchen?

Jamie startled, lost his balance, and both he and Mei toppled forward into the dirt behind the fire pit. She blinked, dazed at the sudden fall, until she heard his urgent whisper and felt his hand at her back. “Up! It’s her.”

He drew himself up to only a crouch, and stooped over the grate so low that his face was nearly in the fire. He poked eagerly at the embers to make even more sprays of light. Bowed over like that, Fareeha should not be able to see the redness on his face, or his tell-all expression this way. The cabin door groaned open, slowly and dreadfully as Mei raced back to her seat.

“Hi!” She waved to the captain, now dressed in a cozy sweatsuit. Mei realized belatedly that her hand wasn’t in ice anymore, but she hoped that Fareeha didn’t notice. “Yes?”

She looked between the two of them at the fire, but Mei didn’t see any indication that that Fareeha was suspicious, or upset. Instead, the captain revealed two plastic packages from behind her, and held them up for Mei and Jamie to see. “As a thank you for the meal. Do either of you know about s'mores?”

Mei shook her head. “I’m not familiar?”

“I wasn’t sure if he’d have the ingredients around. But it is Reinhardt we’re talking about, so…”

She tossed a package to Mei - chocolate covered cookies? And Jamie caught a pillowy white bag Fareeha threw over the fire, which he held by the corner as he peered over its (very, very cute) packaging.

“What are these for?” Mei asked.

“I think the pyro can figure it out.” She saluted, and stepped back into the cabin. “See you at 0700, soldiers.”

Mei looked at Jamie, but he only shrugged. “Dunno. Never seen these before.”

She sighed, and slumped deeply into her seat. For all of the discretion she demanded from Jamie, tonight she was doing a terrible job of controlling herself. But, Mei supposed, Fareeha probably wouldn’t have been so nice if she thought something was up. Somehow they were still okay.

She watched him open up the package and investigate the fluffy white candy inside. Jamie dangled one marshmallow over the fire, looked unsatisfied, and then tossed it to her. “This ain’t doing anything.”

Mei took one of the skewers from dinner, and pierced the marshmallow with it. “Maybe it needs to be closer.”

He watched over her shoulder as she waved the candy close to the flames. “Lookit!” he said. By the fire’s heat the marshmallow puffed up, and slowly deepened in color from white, tan, gold, until it just charred at the edge. She drew the treat back, then popped it off of the skewer and quickly into her mouth.

“Oh!” It took her a few moments to chew it down. “That actually tastes good! Like burnt sugar.”

“Lemme try.”

She turned to grab a second skewer, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her. Jamie grabbed her chin, and kissed her. Very quickly, there and gone again like the lick of a flame. He considered her, his hands holding her still, and ran his tongue over his lips.

“Hm, can’t tell. Is always sweet.”

Her neck and cheeks bloomed in color, and he laughed to himself uproariously. She tried to bat him on the arm, but he danced out of her way and onto his feet. He snatched up the second package Fareeha tossed, and looked over it by the light of the fire.

“What’re the cookies for then? We supposed to burn these too?”

“I don’t think that sounds right.” She couldn’t think straight, and sat with her hands clapped over her cheeks. He was so embarrassing. “Maybe?”

Jamie grinned. “Nothin’ to do but try, luv.”

—–

Meanwhile -

Fareeha, hyperventilating and on the phone: I can’t believe it! I was not briefed on this! I was never told those two were so close. I thought they hated each other, but I saw them kissing! Just now!

Reinhardt: Ah! Young love! How tiny and adorable! And on Valentine’s Day too!

Fareeha: NOT adorable! This is the kind of thing that compromises missions! How the hell am I supposed to proceed like this?

Reinhardt: So this is why that scrappy lad stole my cologne the other week. Sounds like Eau de Reinhardt worked out for him, haha!

Fareeha, banging her fist on the table: I need your advice, not your commentary!

Reinhardt:. No problem! I have just the thing for such emergencies! Check for a little black rope sticking out of the floorboards. Under the buffet table, I think.

Fareeha, fumbling: Let me look…yes…oh, it opens a hidden compartment! I can feel something in here…

Fareeha: …

Fareeha: Reinhardt. This is a growler filled with whiskey.

Reinhardt: Yes! Wonderful! You can handle anything now, little one!

Fareeha: …wait-

Reinhardt: Always happy to help! Just be a dear, and don’t let them use my bedroom. Bye! *disconnects*

Fareeha: …

Fareeha: This is too far above my pay grade to even deal with right now.

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Fair Won Prize:  Chapter 2

Mizael wasn’t entirely asleep. He could taste something wrong in the drink, and he hadn’t taken much of it. He’d considered asking for something else, but slowly and surely, his eyes began to slide together, and he couldn’t quite seem to make words anymore. So he stayed where he was, presuming it would burn off sooner or later.

He’d never had beer before. It wasn’t something that appealed to most elves, though he’d known some who enjoyed it. Elves differed in their tastes just as humans did, though perhaps not as widely or as often.

So only when he managed to grasp vaguely that almost everyone else at the table was also drifting away into slumber did it click into his mind that something aside from taste buds were at fault here.

He could hear footsteps coming toward him. They weren’t familiar, and sounded more like heavy-nailed boots than anything else. He couldn’t be certain of how many there were, only that they came closer, far more so than he wanted, especially now that he couldn’t defend himself. Every instinct he had urged him to get up, to call Jinlong, to just get away from there.

But not a single muscle moved as he wished it to. He strained his ears, hoping for some detail that would stir him up enough to get out of there. What he heard certainly got him angry, but not enough to move.

“You’re right, brother.” That was the tavern keeper. “They’re definitely worth a lot of money. I know a few people who could use a good minstrel. Maybe that one there could be a gladiator. He looks tough enough for it.”

There was a low bark of laughter. “Wonder if he’s an escaped gladiator. Doesn’t Spartan City have an arena? Take him back there and see if he’s worth anything extra?” That was the one that Ryouga laid out in one punch.

“That’s a long way from here,” a third voice, slightly more brittle and precise. “I know one or two cities not that far from here that have an arena and are always on the lookout for good fighters.”

“The big one would probably do for a hard laborer. Looks like he’s done plenty of that, and he’s definitely not suitable for anything else.” The tavern keeper judged.

Mizael tried to work his fingers, hating them so clinically discussing how to dispose of them. But it worked through his head what the problem was: they’d been drugged. Likely a sleep potion, which was why it hadn’t worked so well on him. If he could just get his lips and tongue to work, just to say one word, just to say Jinlong.

But he couldn’t. Not so much as a whisper.

“Looks like she’s a priestess. Those are tough to sell anywhere.” The clinical voice spoke on that score. “Any suggestions?”

“If I’m right, she’s a water priestess. So, send her to the desert? There’s a couple of sects out there that can keep her under wraps and probably retrain her, too. They pay good money for new recruits.” The tavern keeper opined.

“And I know a few places the other two would score a lot of money at,” his brother declared, a smirk in his words. Then Mizael heard him coming closer. “But this one I’m keeping for myself for a while. I bet he could use some good training...and he’s too pretty for anything else, anyway.” A raucous noise that Mizael guessed shoud be a laugh. “Can’t wait to see how much fun he’ll be!”

Given how many of the others he’d mention, Mizael found himself certain that this person was talking about him. He tried to twitch and still failed.

Then he could feel a hand on his hair, slowly stroking it.

“It’s like silk!” The muscled man declared. “Like living silk.”

“You’ve never touched silk in your life,” the tavern keeper laughed. “But if you say so.”

Again the other stroked and Mizael began to detail out how many parts he’d shred this fool into once the drug wore off.

“Let’s get them out of here.” The would-be slaver tilted Mizael’s head up. “Can’t wait for you to wake up, pretty.”

“Neither can I. I don’t think he’s going to like what you’ve been saying about him.”

Vector?! Mizael managed to pry his eyes open the tiniest but, just in time to see a slice of silvery blade in between him and the man touching his hair. For a moment there was absolute silence, then something small hit the table between them.

And then there was an all-mighty roar of pain and rage. “You cut off my hand!”

“It was where it didn’t belong,” Vector said as he rose up to his feet. Mizael dragged his eyes open just a little more and saw Vector had his sword ready. “In fact, none of you has any right to touch him – or any of us – in any way whatsoever.”

“You don’t have the right to cut off people’s hands!” The tavern keeper squawked. Vector turned toward him. From the way they were standing, Mizael couldn’t see the keeper all that well. He didn’t really need to.

“I have the right to defend myself, and since my companions aren’t available to do it – thanks to you – to defend them as well.”

Then Vector’s voice dropped low and only an elf’s keen hearing enabled Mizael to hear what came next.

“Especially since you dared to lay a hand on him. I heard what you had in mind. That will never happen.”

It took Mizael a moment or two to make the connections. They’d all known that Vector wanted him, but he’d kept himself more or less polite, making the occasional compliment, offering small gifts of things Mizael liked.

Vector wasn’t at all a nice person. They knew that, too. But just the fact he’d kept himself polite and restrained put him head and shoulders above these folk in Mizael’s opinion.

All of that took less than a heartbeat to flick through Mizael’s head. In the next moment, Vector surged forward, sword darting here and there. These people weren’t fighters at all, weren’t used to going up against someone trained in multiple forms of combat like Vector.

Mizael found himself wishing that he could see exactly what Vector was doing, aside from slicing their would-be assailants into small pieces. He didn’t love carnage all that much but he did rather enjoy seeing people who’d caused harm to others getting their just desserts.

Soon enough the last of them dropped, and Vector turned back to the others. He tilted his head to the side, considering what to do next. No one seemed in any real danger, and they’d probably sleep for a little while longer. Only here wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep.

Slight motion caught his eye and he spied Mizael trying to move. The elf wasn’t doing a very good job of it, but he tried anyway. His eyes seemed a fraction open and he twitched a finger.

He also had blood in his hair, from where Vector first de-handed the fool who’d touched him. Vector kept his hands to himself, trying to ignore the urge to wipe it out.

Instead, he moved closer and leaned down. “Mizael?”

The ranger breathed in an unsteady breath, eyes still not all the way open and what Vector could see of them remained foggy and unfocused. Vector worked his way around to where he could get hold of Mizael, and started to work him out of there. The others would be fine; Mizael was waking up and would be annoyed at the blood more than likely. Plus, he would need someone to help him clean up this mess.

People were so rude, failing to die in a clean and neat fashion. If they’d known who he was, they likely would’ve fallen all over themselves trying to avoid his anger.

They rode on the edges of Don Thousand’s lands, after all. And the son of Don Thousand commanded respect.

But that would’ve risked all the others knowing exactly who he was, and Vector didn’t want that.

He managed to get Mizael out of the tavern. The storm had passed by now, and the sun edged closer to the horizon, throwing long fingers of shadows over the land. It looked like it would be a pleasant evening, and more so if they got to spend it somewhere that wasn’t here. It would depend on how long it took everyone else to wake up. Vector sadly decided that would be much later in the evening. Far too late for it to be worth riding onward.

A stream wended its way behind the tavern and he helped Mizael there, finding a place low enough for both of them to splash their faces in an attempt to wake up, and get some of the sweat and blood of battle off of Vector. He still wouldn’t touch Mizael without permission.

But then the ranger looked up at him, his eyes clearer and more focused now. “Can you get that out of my hair?” He gestured toward the streaks of blood still there. Some had landed on his face as well, now cleared away by the water, but he’d need more effort to get to his hair.

Vector lifted his hand warily. Mizael gave him a harsh look.

“I said, could you get that out of my hair? You don’t have to act as if I’m going to bite you if you get too close.”

Vector’s lips twitched and he started to work on getting the blood out, tearing a piece of shirt off to do so. He needed to get it out of there before it dried, otherwise they’d need either magic or some kind of proper soap to get rid of it, and he doubted Mizael would want to put up with that.

“I think that should do it,” he said at last. He did what he could not to think a great deal about how close he was to Mizael and how much he enjoyed being close to Mizael. He wanted him; he’d known that since their first adventure together. He’d wondered at times if he’d get what he wanted if he had to take this long way around.

So being so close to Mizael, and Mizael agreeing to let him do things for him, wasn’t something he was all that used to.

The sun drew closer to the horizon, darkness falling softly all around, as the two of them made their way back to the tavern.

“We should’ve noticed something,” Mizael grumbled. “It’s a little too far from t here.” He indicated the closest village with a jerk of his head. “Most taverns are in the middle of town.”

Vector shrugged. “The rain.” He hadn’t liked the storm then and he didn’t like it now. Well, he liked it a bit more because it had moved on, even if it were too late for them to leave already.

Mizael surveyed the tavern and shook his head. “Unless we plan to move them all out of there, they’re staying in there for the night. And so are we.”

“We are?” Vector turned to stare at him, not entirely certain that he’d heard that correctly. “Why?”

“Because this tavern might be the only one around here, which means some of the locals could be involved in this.”

The smile on Mizael’s face reminded Vector that this man not only belonged to the forest and the wild creatures thereof, but his truest companion was a dragon.

Vector liked that.

“If they try anything, we’ll be there to explain to them not to.”

Vector liked the sound of that, too.

“You have some good ideas now and then,” Vector praised. Mizael said nothing for a few moments, his gaze thoughtful and distant.

Then he tilted his head back and spoke a single word that echoed into the night.

“Jinlong.”

Sudden cold sweat leaped into existence up and down Vector’s back. He didn’t dare move, though. Mizael would want to know where he was going, and he didn’t want to say anything about how much he disliked the giant dragon, who swept down from the skies and perched himself in front of Mizael.

“Yes?”

Vector couldn’t hear what Mizael said, and from the accents he could pick up, he wouldn’t have understood it if he did. He knew two or three languages, but the language of dragons wasn’t one of them.

Jinlong rumbled back at Mizael, eyes shifting over to Vector, who stared back at him. He didn’t like the dragon, he didn’t trust the dragon, and he wanted nothing at all to do with the dragon.

But he also dared not show fear of the dragon. He waited for Mizael to finish, admiring the slope of his shoulders, the freshly scrubbed gleam of his skin, and the way the sun set Mizael’s hair off so beautifully. He could gaze at such a view forever…

Then Jinlong spread his wings and leaped back into the air, vanishing out of sight in a matter of moments. Mizael came back closer to Vector, a pleased smile on his lips;.

“So what was that about?” Vector wanted to know as they started back to the tavern.

“I wanted him to know he shouldn’t eat you tomorrow. Or any other day.”

Vector blinked a few times at that. “I didn’t know that was something you had to remind him of.” He didn’t think he liked hearing that, either.

“I don’t. But I suspect he might need a reminder in the near future.”

Vector hadn’t fully wrapped his mind around what Mizael said, until the other caught his arm and met his eyes.

“You’ve been trying to court me.” Mizael said. Vector frowned; why bring this up now? But he nodded and the ranger continued. “For the moment, I accept your courtship gifts, with the acknowledgment that this isn’t a permanent mating, and either of us can end it at any time, for any reason whatsoever.”

Again that took some time for Vector to process. Then the side of his mouth quirked.

“So, friends with benefits?”

Mizael sniffed at that. “I wasn’t aware that we were friends.”

“So, just benefits.”

A long, heart-felt sigh fell from Mizael’s lips. “If you’d rather not take this seriously...”

“I do.” Vector reached to take Mizael’s hand in his own. “I’ve never courted anyone before. If you want to just… entertain each other, that’s fine.”

So far as Vector truly cared, he would decide when they no longer shared a bed, and that would be when he got bored with Mizael. As attractive as he was, he couldn’t imagine losing interest any time soon, especially since there was so much else to learn once this relationship achieved a level of intimacy. But there wasn’t any way he would tell Mizael that. He could have more fun with him like that.

He tightened his hold on Mizael’s hand, and Mizael returned the grip before looking into his eyes. For a few moments they stood there like that, then Vector leaned forward and pressed his lips against Mizael’s, thoroughly enjoying the sweet taste and the way Mizael returned it, their arms sliding around one another.

A soft, startled cough came from the tavern and both of them turned to look, arms still entwined about one another. Gilag stood in the door, rubbing his eyes, staring at them.

He stood there, staring at both of them, then turned and marched back inside, closing the door behind him. His voice floated through, clear as if he hadn’t done that.

“I didn’t see anything.”

Vector chuckled, still entwined around Mizael and not inclined to move at all. “Because there’s hardly anything to see.” He shot a quick look back into those lovely blue eyes of Mizael’s. “Whenever you’d like to change that...” In his opinion, that couldn’t come too soon at all.

The side of Mizael’s mouth lifted up into an amused twitch. “Not here. And not if they’re waking up.”

Vector started to pout; they’d already begun so nicely and now Mizael wanted to be prudish about it?

“It would be much more comfortable in a proper bed,” Mizael pointed out, much to Vector’s minor relief – and still annoyance, since he should’ve thought of that first. “And with the proper supplies.”

Oh. Right.

He sighed and made himself step away from that lovely embrace. “All right.” They’d probably reach a suitable bed the next night anyway. He could wait that long. Even though he didn’t really want to.

Mizael stepped briskly into the tavern itself, Vector by his side. What first met their eyes was Gilag, checking the small fireplace, and the rest of their team still sound asleep.

“How are you feeling?” Mizael wanted to know.

“Still a little sleepy, but I’ll get over it.” Gilag shrugged as he picked the kettle there up and headed for a half-hidden back door, emptying it into what was probably some sort of trash pile. “Since they’re out of it,” he said as he came back in, “looks like I’m going to have to put together some kind of a dinner.”

Mizael nodded, glancing around at the poorly stocked supplies on display. The former tavern keeper clearly specialized only in what could be drunk, none of which any of them trusted anymore.

“I think we have some things I can cook in the supplies,” Gilag muttered, heading out that way to check. He didn’t seem to be avoiding them, but he was also not exactly looking at either of them either.

Mizael checked on the group again, hints of concern that Vector didn’t find all that appealing in his eyes. He said nothing, though. He might’ve won Mizael – to some extent – but the other wouldn’t stop caring about other people. How annoying.

At least, he reflected as he made rounds around the room, this meant that Mizael would also care about him. And the idea of what the others would do when they woke up and found out what happened amused Vector quite a bit. He imagined so many scenarios where they simply stood, jaws hanging, while Vector thoroughly and intensely kissed Mizael and Mizael kissed him, and then matters turned to far more than just kissing…

“I don’t think they’ll wake up until later tonight. Maybe not until tomorrow.” Mizael broke into his fantasies without warning. Vector bit off a sigh and headed over to him.

“But they’ll be all right?” Gilag asked as he entered, bags of their supplies in his arms. Mizael nodded.

“As near as I can tell. I don’t know enough about healing or drugs to judge anything else.”

Gilag nodded himself. “Well, Ponta and I know a little bit about that, and as far as I can tell, they’re just asleep.”

Vector lounged himself against the nearest wall. “So that gives us tonight all to ourselves.” He wasn’t looking at Gilag, who hurried over to get dinner going and muttered something about sleeping outside with Ponta and the horses.

That suited Vector just fine.

To Be Continued

Notes: The actual intimacy will happen in chapter four.