#lotuslamps is now an avid fanfic writer sorry

[lotus-lamps]

pt. 3 of im bored so im gonna post my ao3 works here lmao (yes i AM just going to copy the format)

(ao3 link if you prefer to read it there)

Hold onto your dreams (I won't forget them)

word count: 5.1k | date of creation: 6/22/2024 | status: incomplete, will likely be updated soon | fandom: Project Sekai | relationships: Kohane & her mom, Kohane & An (soon)

synopsis: Kohane's mother leaves to forage for food in the forest. As night falls, Kohane begins to get worried and looks for her mother herself. (fantasy au)

tw: violence, blood, gore, injury, death, & rot. minor mentions of decapitation, insects, vomiting, and nausea.

1. The girl and the wolf

"Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Little Red Riding Hood." Kohane reads aloud, softly to herself. Her mother leans over and smiles at her, taking a seat next to the little girl.

"That one again? You seem to like this story a lot. Is it your favorite, honey?"

Kohane thinks about it for a moment, but simply ends up shrugging. She likes the story, but she can't help but find it...unsatisfying, in a way. Her mother has two editions of the book: One where the story ends with Little Red Riding Hood getting eaten, and one where both she and her grandmother get saved by a carpenter, who cuts open the wolf's stomach. Kohane wasn't particularly pleased with either telling. She didn't believe that Little Red Riding Hood couldn't tell that her grandmother was replaced by a wolf, so she wasn't fond of the original version. She didn't like the second one either because she also found it unrealistic. She didnt believe that the grandmother could come out unharmed from the wolf's stomach and that the story was resolved so easily. But in the end, Kohane was okay with it, because she believed that Little Red Riding Hood deserved a happily ever after regardless.

Her thoughts get interrupted by a loud growl from her stomach. Her mama laughs gently and smiles at Kohane. "Alright, I'll go forage for food then, we're running a little low. How does rabbit stew sound?"

Kohane nods once, watching her mother pull out her expertly crafted bow and a quiver full of arrows. She slings a bag for hunt over her shoulder and grabs a glowing lantern, temporarily setting the items down on the wooden table to smile at Kohane.

"Wait right here, okay sweetie? Mama'll be back soon with our dinner." She comes over and envelopes Kohane in a warm, tight hug. The little girl lets out a happy giggle, snuggling into her mother's hug. Her mother cups Kohane's face in her hands, kissing both of her cheeks before she gives the little girl a wave and heads out the door. Kohane waves back, kicking her legs eagerly on the wooden stool she sits on.

Kohane waits for a few moments and then peeks out the window on the front door to check if her mother was gone before bounding out the back entrance. Her mother warned Kohane not to go out alone for her own safety, but she allowed the little girl to wander around the small, fenced area of their backyard where they kept the chickens and other livestock, along with their vegetable garden. Her mother used to only grow edible plants, but with enough pleading from Kohane, she gave in and started raising flowers as well. Kohane lugs out a large bucket of water for the plants, scraping it along the ground as she was too weak to lift the whole thing by herself. With some difficulty, she carefully waters all the plants, quickly emptying out the bucket.

Afterwards, she digs out the weeds and feeds the animals in their pens, her favorite part of the gardenwork. Kohane wipes the sweat off her brow and plops down onto the ground with a sigh. Yardwork was quite tiresome for such a small girl, but she was glad to help out her mother in any way she could. Kohane knows how much her mama does and sacrifices for her, so she always tries to repay the favor in any way she could. She lies down on the soft grass, closing her eyes and listening to the sweet songs of the birds. After a few moments of tranquility, Kohane sits up and opens her eyes, looking up into the sky. It was a beautiful sunset unlike any other, a glorious mix of purples, pinks, and oranges surrounding a large, glowing sun just above the horizon. Soft and fluffy clouds paint the sky, and small, shining stars emerge into light. Kohane stares in awe at the stunning scene, mesmerized by the beauty of it all. But when she snaps out of her trance, she was suddenly aware of how late it was. Usually her mama would be home by now, cooking up a hearty meal for both of them. Kohane begins to get worried, fearing for her mother's safety as it got dangerous in the dark. She gets up and considers searching for her mama, but the girl knows that her mother is strong and capable of defending herself, and that Kohane would only be causing more trouble if she goes out by herself.

The little girl sits back down, planning on making a flower crown for the two of them. As none of the flowers in their garden were finished growing, she resorts to picking wildflowers instead, choosing an arrangement of pink, yellow, and white flowers. Sunflowers are Kohane's favorite, but sadly, they don't have enough space to grow them, so instead she waits every week for her mama to bring her to the large sunflower field nearby. It was so tall and vast that the girl felt as if she were swimming through an ocean of golden petals, laughing as she ran between the stalks and brushed her hand across the waxy green leaves. She'd seen someone there once, a long time ago. Kohane had merely stopped to sit down for a moment when she heard a girl's singing ring across the sunflower field. Kohane paused, listening silently to the beautiful music spun by the stranger amongst the golden flowers. Her voice was brilliant and dazzling, her song nostalgic and warm in Kohane heart, a powerful and moving melody that the little girl would remember forever. The stranger's laughter danced across the flowers, sweeter than honey and brighter than the sunflowers that surrounded them, and Kohane found herself laughing with her- Yet the moment Kohane made a sound, the singing and laughter immediately halted, followed by a rustling of leaves and the sound of shoes hitting the dirt. Kohane raced after the footsteps, wanting to both apologize for startling the girl and express her great admiration for her singing. Even so, the sunflower field was a tall and vast maze, and soon Kohane had lost the stranger amidst the sea of gold, only barely catching a glimpse of shimmering black hair whisked into the rows of flowers. Kohane never saw her again. It was a sad thought, she supposed, but also a bittersweet memory. Kohane hums the same song softly as she works, wanting to keep the melody forever in her heart. Even if she would never see the stranger again, Kohane was glad to have heard her once, the vivid voice of an unseen girl whose songs were homesick and radiant. Though she doesn't think much of her own singing, Kohane notices the birds chirping along with her and smiles to herself before her eyes get caught on a particularly beautiful blue flower. When she reaches over to inspect it, she realizes that it is her mother's favorite. Forget me not, she thinks to herself, remembering what her mama told her when she first asked.

"Quite a unique name, isn't it?" Her mother asked.  Kohane nodded. "It reminds me of the important people in my life. Like you, sweetie. I'll never forget you," she said, wrapping her arms around Kohane in a warm embrace. Kohane hugged back with a giggle. I'll never forget you either, mama.

The girl gently picks up the flower and adds it to the flower crowns. Kohane promised never to forget her mother, but she couldn't say the same about her father. He was gone soon after Kohane was born, and what little she knew about him came entirely from what her mother told her. When the little girl asked where he was, her mother just smiled sadly at her and said that he was in a place far, far away. Kohane read enough fairy tales to know that it meant her father was dead. Even if her mother doesn't talk about him often, the little girl knew how much her mother missed him. Kohane missed her father too, even if she never knew him. Eager to forget about her sad thoughts, she looks at her work and smiles at herself, proud of the pretty little crowns she made for the two of them.

It was even darker now though, the sky a mix of deep blacks and blues, sprinkled with thousands of glittering, golden stars. It was a beautiful sight, but it only furthered her concern about her mother's safety. Her mama had never been out for this long in the dark before. Kohane knew that it was dangerous for her to go into the wilderness alone, but she was afraid that she'd be too late if she waited any longer. She clutches the flower crowns in her small hands and goes back inside, searching for some items to bring before she goes out into the forest. Kohane pulls out a dusty and rarely used lantern, taking out a match and lighting it up. The girl stashes a sharp knife to cut down any obstacles and a basket of berries in case either of them got hungry and to mark her path. Breathing in, she bounds out the front door and into the thick, lush forest, holding the bright lantern up in the air.

Kohane dips her hand into the basket, gathering a few berries and crushing them in her spare hand, smearing the blood red jam onto the bark of a tree. She continues along into the forest leaving berry juice on the trees, marking each one she comes across to create a path she could follow on the way back. It was eerily silent, and Kohane would be lying if she said she wasn't terrified. She picks up the pace, grateful for the moonlight that peeks through the thick leaves of the trees. It brought a stable source of light to make up for her hands that shook so much that she feared she would drop the lantern and be left shrouded in the darkness. Every small movement and sound sent her jumping into the air with fear as she shivered in the darkness. Kohane was just about to call out for her mother's name when she hears a blood curdling scream. The girl goes still with shock, temporarily frozen until she comes back to her senses, running toward the source of the sound. It was no doubt her mother. She prays that her mama wasn't in trouble. Her breathing becomes labored, losing breath as she sprints through the sharp brambles before she makes her way into a moonlit clearing. She stills.

Kohane lets out a shrill, agonized shriek.

Her mother's corpse is on the ground, headless. Blood pools on the grass beneath her, staining the once green grass a deep, hideous red. A monstrous, silver wolf looms above the body, chewing on the gory gash of her severed neck, the vile sound of chunks of flesh being torn apart between sharp teeth. The creature notices the little girl, baring its blood stained fangs at her, eyes feral and unhinged, thick blood dripping down its chin. Kohane let out a choked sob, swallowing bile.

She's dead. Her mother is dead.

The wolf's claws dig into the ground, preparing to lunge. Kohane's feet were planted into the ground, but somehow, with miraculous, sheer will, she just barely dives out of the way. The wolf's mouth just barely grazes her skin, shredding through the edges of her sleeves. It sneers, spitting out the fabric onto the ground and preparing to lunge again.

She's going to die. Kohane is going to die.

Her ears are ringing, heart beating faster than her ragged, hyperventilated breaths. She feels like everything is slowing down, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. Kohane fumbles with something, anything, until her hand reaches the lantern, still shining bright in the darkness. She had dropped it in the heat of the moment, and the thick metal framing allowed it to survive the fall. She grabs onto it and does the first thing she can think of, hurling it with as much force as she can and landing a hard hit on the wolf. The glass shatters on impact and pierces the animal's skin, making it shriek in agony. The flame of the lamp catches onto the wolf's silver fur, and it bashes its face on the dirt in an attempt to put it out, only causing the glass to get dug further into the creature's fur. It flails around wildly, letting out pained howls until the fire goes out, leaving a hideous, charred scar on the side of the wolf's face that still gushes fresh blood from the wounds.

Kohane uses the distraction as an opportunity to fish out the knife she kept in the pocket of her apron, gripping it tightly with two shaky hands. She sucks in a large breath and holds the knife high above her head, driving it deep into the creature's heart. The wolf lets out a ear piercing shriek, clawing wildly at the girl, its claws scratching at her arms. Kohane ignores the pain, wringing out the knife and stabbing it over and over again in a frenzied rage. Soon the animal no longer fights back, going limp with the plague of death. Kohane does not care. She continues to stab over and over and over and over again, turning the body into an unrecognizable, mutilated corpse. Blood gushes out of the carcass, staining Kohane's clothes and painting her arms and face a dark red. The creature's organs spill out onto the grass, creating a disgusting, vomit inducing squelch every time the knife comes into contact with the soft pink flesh. Kohane does not care. She maims the hideous carcass until she is too weak to lift her arms up again. She pulls out the knife a final time, the weapons and her arms drenched in viscous, rotten, blood.

It's dead. The monster is dead.

Kohane does not care.

Does she?

Her legs give in, and she collapses onto the ground with an agonized scream, vomiting onto the bloody grass. Kohane begins to sob hysterically, choking on her never ending tears as she digs her hands into the dirt, the sounds of her miserable cries filling the air.

Her mother is dead. The monster is dead.

Kohane is not dead. She is not going to die.

She almost wishes that she did.

...

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Little Red Riding Hood, but everyone called her Kohane Azusawa.

Where is her happily ever after?

2. Take two.

Kohane collapses onto the cottage floor in a bloody mess. She manages to collect herself after the mortifying scene, dragging herself back home through the thick forest. She wanted to bring her mother home as well, but Kohane was too weak to pick her up, and if she had to look at the decapitated corpse for any longer, she would probably vomit and pass out again. Luckily, Kohane's screaming didn't draw the attention of any other creatures in the forest, for if anything did find her, she would surely just give up and allow herself to be killed. She returns empty handed, for holding the knife makes her feel terribly sick and she couldnt be bothered to bring anything else back. Only her mother truly mattered.

Kohane looks at her dirty hands, a vile mix of the wolf's blood and her own from the wounds on her arms. She couldn't stand the stench, the foul smell of blood and guts that only recreates the image of her dead mother in her head. With what little energy she has left, she pushes herself up and picks up some clean clothing before trudging out the door towards the riverside. Under any other circumstances, she would find the scene immensely gorgeous, with the cold blue moonlight shining onto the still water and thousands of glimmering stars dotting the night sky, but Kohane was far too distracted to be enamored by nature's beauty. She discards her bloody clothing and sinks into the freezing water, barely affected by the temperature. As she scrubs weakly at the blood on her arms, she stares down at her reflection in the dark water. Her eyes are large and empty, her face vacant and expressionless, smeared with stains of blood. She should feel something. Kohane should feel something, but she doesn't feel anything at all. Her throat feels tight and tears bubble in the corner of her eyes before streaming down her dirty face, but her expression remains emotionless. Kohane is terrified. She is enraged and heartbroken and utterly distraught. She is disgusted and shocked beyond comprehension and completely traumatized, but her face remains unchanging. Why isn't it changing? She clenches her fist, and with a shout of rage she drives her hand angrily through the water, breaking up the reflection with a loud splash as waves of water ripple away from her.

Breathe. In, out.

Kohane collects herself, submerging herself completely in the freezing water for a few moments. The coldness is calming, and Kohane is tempted to stay there forever.

Breathe. In, out.

She swims back up to the surface and scrubs at her face and limbs, getting rid of the foul blood and ignoring the wounds on her arms. The redness of the fluid dissipates in the cold, river water.

Breathe. In, out.

She pulls herself out, shaking off the water and reaching for her towel. Kohane wipes at her body almost violently, drying herself quickly. She slips on her clean clothes and eyes the battered and bloody old ones.

Breathe. In, out.

Unsure what to do with the unusable clothing, she simply dumps it into the water, stabbing a stick through the cloth and into the dirt shore of the river to keep it from floating away. Kohane would return for it another day. She doubts that day will come anytime soon.

Breathe. In, out.

She silently trudges back home, opening the door to an equally silent cottage. What once felt cozy is now suffocating. The house is quiet and empty, without a single sign of life. The sweet laughter of her mother, the warm smell of her cooking, her soft lullabies, and her gentle smile are all gone.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Breathe.

In, out.

Kohane no longer worries about feeling nothing. She just barely avoids breaking into tears again, sucking in a sharp breath and releasing it slowly. She collapses onto the floor again, hugging herself tightly.

Breathe. In, out.

It will be okay. Everything will be okay.

Kohane drifts into heavy, dreamless sleep.

She awakes to the warmth of sunlight and sweet birdsong, though it does nothing to comfort the longing, painful ache in her heart.

Her stomach growls. She should eat, but she just feels sick. She's afraid that she'll just end up vomiting out the food. But Kohane has to eat something, or she'll be too weak to do anything at all. She pushes herself up again and rummages around for food. She works up the energy to make an easy sandwich out of some bread and a few slices of cheese and ham. There is little food left, and Kohane knows that she will have to either start rationing or go out and forage for herself. Even so, she wishes her mother could have just made a simple dinner and waited for morning to gather food. Kohane would gladly take any severity of hunger for a mother who is alive and well. Chewing idly on her food, she tries to distract herself by the gentle scenery outside to avoid truly tasting it, feeling its filthy textures between her teeth and being reminded of the gory scene the day before. She goes out into the garden and buries herself in the work, pushing out any thought of her dead mother. If she tries hard enough, she can simply pretend that her mama was still out foraging, and that Kohane was merely playing in the yard and awaiting her return. It was easy to forget. Too easy. The truth hadn't fully dawned the little girl. She was still in deep denial, and she refused to believe that her mother was truly gone. Still, Kohane had witnessed her mama's death before her very own eyes, and the sickly sight was hard to get rid of. The scene replayed over and over again in her head: her mother's decapitated corpse, the wolf's bloody body, organs spilling onto the grass. Driving the knife into the creature's heart, the sound of her own screams.

Breathe.

In...

...

...

The day passes by in a blur. She doesn't remember anything anymore. She won't remember anything for a long time.

...

Breathe. Keep breathing. Keep breathing. Keep breathing. Keep breathing.

In, out.

-

Kohane finds herself in the forest again, dragging her feet aimlessly-no, lifelessly- through the thick pines. She has a reason for being there.

Night approaches, the setting sun casting a piercing golden glow onto the endless rows of trees. It forms sharp, harsh shadows that seem to stretch on for miles on end, only thin slits of sunlight cutting through the vast darkness.

Kohane trudges forward, impassively following the smears of berries on the trees, handprints the color of blood dragged across the rough bark. She has business to finish.

Kohane is not strong enough to lift her mother, but it's not like she has a choice. It would be improper, distasteful, to bury her mother in the blood stained grass where her very head was torn apart. Kohane would drag her mother's corpse back to the garden, even if the remains were filthy with rot and reeked of decay, the blood a nauseating brown and the body littered with maggots.

It would not matter.

The wolf's carcass would be there too, rotting beside her mother's corpse. How disrespectful. Kohane hopes that the flies tear its body apart.

She makes it to the forest clearing once more, standing before the piles of flesh that decorates the ground. The cold, sharp moonlight shines on the mutilated corpses like a glaring white spotlight. Kohane is reaching toward her mother's decapitated body when she hears a rustle amongst the leaves. She stills, eyes widening and the hair on her arms rising as she jumps into a defensive stance, nearly hissing like a feral wolf. Her arm fumbles around wildly for the kitchen knife and she finally gets ahold of it, handle still stained with blood. She hides herself within the protection of the thick bushes, the foliage dense enough to secluded her entire body. The source of the sound dashes through the shadows as if it were part of the darkness itself, snaking between the endless maze of trees. Kohane catches a glint of moonlight shining on its narrowed eyes. She grips the knife tighter, its weight a comfort in her trembling hands. But she is not afraid anymore. She aims the knife carefully and precisely, with a steady and unnerving accuracy. Kohane has killed something once. She'll do it again.

Right?

Suddenly, the creature emerges from hiding and leaps into the clearing, and Kohane snaps into position, poised to strike into the heart. Its teeth are yellow and bared as it snarls viciously like a ferocious predator, sharp and dirty claws digging into the dirt with silver fur standing up on its back and-

Kohane pauses.

It is a young wolf, a small one with short, shiny fur and large beady eyes. Its posture is hunched and timid, the frightened creature shrinking in on itself as it steps toward the bodies. It lets out a nearly inaudible whimper, fear and distraught clear in its shocked eyes. The animal looks small and fragile as it nudges its head on the lifeless carcass, as if desperately pleading the creature to wake up once more, for the dead wolf to take another breath, to feel the solemn beating of the heart and the warmth of an embrace.

A mother's embrace.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe-

Kohane struggles to breathe. Her breath comes in heavy and erratic hitches, as if her very lungs were being compressed and torn apart. No, no, no, no, no, that's not right at all. The wolf she killed is not- was not a mother. It's not Kohane's fault, it never was, and it never will be. She was simply acting in self defense. Kohane would have been killed if she didn't act first. Only the strongest survive, after all. How could she have known? How could she have known that that very wolf was as much of a mother as her own, one with a helpless child just like Kohane and- No, that's not right at all. It's just a stupid animal, inferior to human beings. It doesn't need love, doesn't deserve the care and affection and- but how could it have known, either? How could it have known that Kohane's mother had a child who loved her, a child who would be unthinkably hurt by the loss and death of- and what if the wolf was simply protecting its own child, just like how Kohane only killed the creature to save her own life and avenge her mother, and- no. No, no, no, no, of course not. There is no nuance to the situation. It is clear that Kohane is not, and will never be, the villain. She is no hero, but she has always been and always will be the protagonist. No matter how you frame it, how you view or approach it, the answer is as simple as that. It is not her fault, and she is not to blame. What a stupid thought that would be! It was just a stupid, vicious, bloodthirsty animal. It attacked and killed Kohane's mother first. Nothing else could have happened, no information missing or untold. That is all there is to it. It was an inferior, subhuman, and mindless creature undeserving of compassion. But if not for her human skin and bones, how was Kohane any more of a human being? What defines a human? The heart or the mind? Does humanity come from kindness and empathy or intelligence and sophistication? And why is it that someone who is barbaric, animalistic, cruel, and heartless can still be called a human being?

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe-

Kohane chokes on her own, unsteady breathing. Her lungs gasp for air, clawing wildly in her airway as she begins to hyperventilate, her breath getting louder and quicker and panicked and-

Snap.

The wolf's eyes lock onto Kohane. For a moment, it still looks like small and frightened, like a child just like Kohane: scared and alone. But then it's eyes sharpen into a thin slit, hostile and accusatory, as if it was saying: you did this. YOU did this.

And she did. Kohane did.

It doesn't mean anything. It will never mean anything. No matter what, Kohane will always be Little Red Riding Hood, the innocent and harmless little girl who could never do any wrong, because how could she? She'll always be the unblamable victim of the situation, no matter how blurry and warped the eyeglass must be.

She breathes. In, out.

The small wolf snarls hysterically at Kohane, lunging at her violently. Kohane grips the weapon close to her heart, its shining, blood coated blade aimed at the small creature.

Breathe. In, out.

The wolf's claws reach for her face, but Kohane lifts up her arms to block the slash. It grabs wildly at her face and arms, leaving bloody red marks on her pale, already wounded skin. She pays it no mind, reaching with her other hand to twist the creature off, flinging it onto the ground.

Kohane kill this one too, just like the last one, just like she's supposed to. She won't feel any remorse, any regret. She won't feel anything at all. And it wouldn't matter, because it deserved to die. It won't matter because IT doesn't matter. And that's all that there will be to the story.

In one fell blow, Kohane drives the knife into the wolf's heart.

Die.

The creature lets out an ear splitting shriek, so shrill and pained that Kohane nearly flinches back, but she is stands stiller than a statue as if her body was sculpted to be poised in this position, knife permanently carved to be part of her figure, held between her hands.

Die.

The small wolf writhes painfully and flails its limbs wildly, but Kohane's sculpted stone arms keep it struggling in place. She closes her eyes and breathes slowly, but the creature's howls only become louder in her ears, its sound reverberating and echoing throughout the empty, cold forest.

Breathe. In, out.

Die.

The wolf's claws continue to flail weakly, its arms flinging uselessly at Kohane's face. Kohane harbors no reaction, twisting the knife further into the creature's chest, watching it let out another shrill but noticeably weaker scream as blood gushes out of the wound. She is tempted to make the cruel motion again, to watch as it thrashes in pain and cries for help.

Die. Die. Die.

The small wolf begins to lose energy, its body starting to go limp and puppet like in Kohane's iron grip. After one more fruitless swing in the air, the creature's arm dangles uselessly and falls to the ground, laying lifelessly on the dirt. The wolf goes silent as its body stills, trapped by the press of the girl's bloody knife.

Die.

With one final, fleeting breath, the wolf is dead for good.

Kohane pushes the carcass off of her knife, piles of guts and gore following with it, landing in a rotten heap on the tainted forest floor. Fresh blood pools around the corpse, oozing from the open wound and covering the wolf's once silver fur in a shining red blanket.

Blood drips down Kohane's arm, the viscous fluid staining her already dirtied sleeves and dress. Some of the red liquid makes it to her face, framing her vacant expression and dark eyes. The knife is heavy in her hands, its weight sinking down on her, threatening to drag her deeper and deeper until she becomes the one to flail her arms wildly and scratch at the air.

She stares at the dead wolf, laying as a lifeless heap of skin and bones next to its decaying mother. Maggots and flies surround the stinking carcass and eager attack the newly fallen wolf, the insects eating and buzzing hungrily at its exposed organs, the scent of flesh and rot filling the once fresh forest air.

Bile rises up Kohane's throat. She swallows it back down, tasting the acid on the back of her tongue.

Kohane wonders if she was supposed to end up like that, an unrecognizable mass of meat and filth decomposing beside her mother's similarly decaying corpse, the one that still lays there headless and bloody and cold and rotting and human and-

Kohane throws up onto the fresh green grass for the second night in a row.

that's it for now, thanks for reading :)

fic was last updated on 1/29/2025, will likely receive an update soon. (i wrote this entire fic on my notes app lmao it depends on how often im stuck in no wifi situations)

[lotus-lamps]

pt. 2 of im bored so im gonna post my ao3 works here lmao (yes i AM just going to copy the format)

(ao3 link if you prefer to read it there)

I didn't ask for an adventure (but i got one anyway)

(help i spent an embarrassing amount of time making this header only for it to look mid lmao)

word count: 6.4k | date of creation: 5/26/2024 | status: incomplete, may be updated soon | fandom: Project Sekai + Vocaloid | relationships: Miku & Kaito (platonic)

synopsis: Miku encounters Kaito carrying out his hitman duties in the middle of her nighttime stroll. He offers her the choice to be his partner in crime. (fantasy au in the making, though the fantasy hasn't taken form yet.)

tw: violence, references to depression & nihilism.

1. Fateful Encounter

Miku meets a strange man during her midnight walk. Surely this will end well, right?

Miku walks down the nearly empty streets of Yokohama, idly tossing a green apple up into the air and then catching it when it fell. The reflections of bright, neon signs of shops and advertisements shone brightly in the large puddles on the pavement. Miku feels the rain dampen her hair as she hops over each one pool of water, not caring to bring an umbrella with her for her walk. She takes out her pocket knife and spins it in the air once, before starting to peel the apple in her other hand, casually strolling down the street. 

A loud bang! echoes through the city streets, followed by a scream and the sound of a body hitting the wall. Miku pauses for a moment, a section of the apple peel falling to the ground. She tilts her head towards the sound, and stealthily makes her way to the alley where the sound came from. She finds a man standing in front of a bloody corpse, reloading his gun as bullet casings falling to the ground with a clink . Despite remaining mostly hidden, the man turns around with a knowing grin and cocks the gun at Miku. 

“Sorry!” he says sweetly, innocently tucking his hair behind his ear, revealing a brilliant red ruby earring. His grin grows feral and unhinged. “I can’t be having any witnesses.” 

He fires a perfectly aimed shot, but Miku just flattens her body against the wall, and the bullet hits a brick wall instead. The man uses this distraction as an opportunity to quickly dash towards Miku, firing several consecutive shots from two shiny pistols with insane precision. Miku swiftly dodges past all of them, spinning her pocket knife and slicing through the last bullet. She grips her half peeled apple and languidly takes a bite. 

The man smiles at her, almost as if he were pleased that none of this bullets landed. He calmly puts his pistols back in his holster and wipes his hands on his pants. 

“Why’d you peel the apple if you’re just going to eat it with your bare hands?” He asks casually, and then grins again. “If you say it’s because you don’t like eating the peel, I’ll shoot you again.” 

Miku takes another bite, purposefully chewing as loudly as possible. “Because I was bored.” She responds nonchalantly with her mouth full, before raising her eyebrows. “And besides, you wouldn’t be able to hit me anyways.”

The man just laughs, turning around to crouch down and inspect the dead body. He rummages around the corpse’s coat pocket, pulling out a wallet and flipping it open, taking out anything of value and slipping it inside his own pockets. Miku steps closer, spinning her knife around before pressing it against the back of the man’s neck. The man flips the wallet shut and returns it to the corpse’s pocket.

“What makes you think I won’t kill you right now?” Miku leans forward, asking in an icy tone. She presses the blade with a bit more force, drawing a small amount of blood.

The man turns around with an equally cold smirk. “You won’t,” he responds firmly, before turning back around and poking at the body for more valuables. “Besides,” he continues cheerily. “You’ll only do it if it’s fun. I guarantee you it isn’t.”

Miku raises her eyebrows, but retracts her knife anyways. He’s not exactly wrong, and she’s not nearly as violent as she presents herself as. She’s never killed anyone, since the consequences are a lot less fun than the killing itself. After deeming the body as fully looted, the man slings it over his shoulder and makes a halfhearted job of cleaning up any blood left behind. He grins at Miku before turning around to go. 

She snorts, taking another bite from the apple. “So much for no witnesses.” 

The man turns around with a shrug. “You won’t report me, so why bother? I don’t like disposing bodies anyways, that work is for my clients.” 

“You make your clients get rid of the evidence? What kind of hitman are you?” Miku questions dubiously. She doesn’t really give a shit either way, but she’s curious about his response. 

“A damn good one.” He lies with a toothy grin. Miku just rolls her eyes. He tosses a bullet at her, and she catches it with artful precision. “Nice to meet you, stranger.” He says simply, and walks away. 

Miku inspects the bullet carefully under one of the glowing signs. A barely noticeable phone number is engraved into the side. She stuffs it back into her pockets, staring up into the night sky with an unreadable expression.

Just what kind of bullshit am I getting myself into?

Kaito absentmindedly tosses the remote control up and down, uncaring to whatever conspiracy theory the news reporter is currently babbling about on the television. He scratches his head and groans loudly. There’s nothing for him to do in this stolen hotel room. Maybe I should go rob another jewelry store. He thinks to himself. Or perhaps a gun shop? A few more firearms never hurt. 

He had just shown his client his target’s corpse for proof of work, and the client happily paid him his due salary. Unfortunately, the man also wanted Kaito to dispose of the body himself, thankfully with some extra pay. With annoyance, he found some random trash bag to stuff the dismembered body parts in and halfheartedly dropped it in a nearby dumpster. Who cares if somebody finds it? It’s not his problem anyways. He’ll get a move on sooner or later. Sure, he’s a pretty skilled criminal, but he’s not that good at avoiding the authorities. He’ll probably sightsee at some bars tomorrow and then get going. 

Kaito was just about to head out when he heard his phone ring. He smiles to himself. Must be the new girl. He thinks to himself, before pulling out his phone and picking up the call.

“Hiii~,” He croons in an obnoxious, singsong voice while raiding the mini fridge of drinks, popping one open and taking a loud sip. “Is it the little girl I met today?”

“Little girl my ass,” the caller responds with a pissed voice. “I’m a few years younger than you at best. Also, saying it like that is going to make you sound like a lolicon,” she adds with a hint of disgust.

Kaito chokes on his drink, coughing and wheezing loudly as he spits it out. The girl snorts from the other end. “I’d like you to know I only date women my age,” He says in between hysterical coughs. 

“As if you’ll ever get any,” She responds. Kaito can almost hear the eyeroll through the phone. “So, why’d you give me your number?

“Why’d you call my number?” He responds snarkily, taking another sip from his drink.

“Bored, I guess,” The caller deadpans. 

Kaito just snorts. Guess that’s all there really is to this girl.

��Also I wanted to see if the number was real,” She adds.

“Fair enough,” he responds. “What’s your name, mystery girl?”

“Why should I tell you?” She deadpans again.

“Because I asked,” He croons obnoxiously, fluttering his eyelashes. 

“Has anyone ever told you how fucking punchable you are? I’m gonna hang up on your sorry ass if you keep being an irritable bitch.” The caller curses through gritted teeth.

“NOOOO I’m so sorry I’ll never do it again!!” He absolutely lies through barely contained laughter. He settles down again, and continues calmly. “The name’s Kaito. I gave you my number because you’re good at whatever it is that you’re doing. I want to partner up. You can take care of all the shit I don’t want to do.”

“So much for sweet talking. Straight to the point, huh?” She says in a bored tone. After pausing for a moment, she responds quietly. “Hatsune Miku. I’ll consider your offer.”

Kaito grins. “Good,” he says cheerfully. “Meet me at Bar Lupin tomorrow. Midnight, sharp.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Miku responds halfheartedly before hanging up.

Kaito lets out a laugh and drops his phone back into his pocket, staring at the stained ceiling.

Good. he thinks to himself. I win.

2. Newfound Partnership

Miku stares at her watch. 12:07 a.m. So much for “Midnight, sharp.” She thinks to herself, rolling her eyes. She’s hardly punctual herself, but she assumed Kaito would be at least a little decent with time. How the hell does he still get jobs with such a shitty work ethic, anyway? Miku taps her feet impatiently, spinning the umbrella in her hands. She’s glad she brought one at all; today’s rain is much heavier than yesterday’s. The sound of rainfall was so loud that Miku felt like it was filling her eardrums, and the rain was creating large pools of water beneath her feet that soaked into her shoes, much to her dismay. Kaito said to meet up at Bar Lupin, but he never specified whether or not she should be waiting inside. She knows she probably looks extremely suspicious loitering outside the bar, but she can’t be bothered to care. 

Miku was just about to give up and head inside the bar when a man comes sprinting over, splashing copious amounts of rainwater onto himself. She quickly steps back to avoid getting drenched, half expecting Kaito to do a full body shake like a dog to get the water out. He takes a few breaths before running a hand through the wet hair that covers most of his face, revealing a deranged smile and a dark, manic glint in his eyes. 

“Sorry for the wait!” He says quickly between hysterical laughs. “Let’s just say my target wasn’t nearly as compliant as I expected him to be. Luckily, the rain washed all the blood out though! Well, I hope so.” He adds, rubbing at his cheek just in case. “Can I stand under your umbrella?”

“No.” Miku deadpans immediately. Kaito starts making puppy dog eyes at her, but she just quickly closes the umbrella and whacks him with it. 

“Hey! Not nice! Very rude, in fact!” Kaito complains halfheartedly, only to get hit by the umbrella again. 

“Okay okay I get it! Jeez. Women these days,” He mutters under his breath, before his back is immediately whacked by the umbrella at full force, causing him to yelp out a string of curses.

“Your persuasion skills are horrendous. If there were any chances of me joining you before, there definitely aren't any now.” Miku says in an annoyed tone, opening up the umbrella again. 

Kaito rubs his back, muttering a series of “ow”s under his breath. “Aww, are you really turning down my wonderful offer?” He says sadly, making puppy dog eyes again. 

“Yes.” Miku replies sternly, but she’s not sure if she means it. 

Kaito straightens himself and he loses all his playful demeanor. He stares at Miku with a cold and almost mocking gaze. “Really now?” He questions with an icy tone. “Why not? It’s not like you have anything in your life that’s worth meaning.” 

Miku whips around, eyes dark and furious as she glares at Kaito. “What makes you think you know anything about me?” She snaps angrily, voice laced with stingy venom. She grips her pocket knife. 

Kaito’s grins cruelly, eyes losing its light. “I’m not wrong though, am I?” He says coldly, voice devoid of kindness. “And what did you expect? A teammate who’s loving and supportive?” He lets out a manic laugh. “Oh please. You already know what I do for a living.” He rests his hand on the pistols in his holster as his grin grows more feral. “So, what do you say? Are you interested in teaming up with a blatant, irredeemable murderer?”

Miku narrows her eyes but simply lets out a tch and turns her head away. “You really are bad at persuasion.” She finally comments after several moments of silence. 

Kaito smiles enthusiastically, his bubbly persona returning to him. “Hey now, nobody’s perfect!” He extends his hand and leans forward. “So do we have a deal or not?”

Miku remains quiet for a long moment before she lets out an exasperated sigh. She hates the fact that he’s right. She really doesn’t have anything meaningful in her life. She doesn’t like how accurate he’s been with his predictions about her, especially since they just met. “Fine. It’s not like I have anything better to do anyway.” She replies half heartedly, shaking the man’s hand.

Kaito grins smugly, eagerly shaking her hand. “Told you.”

“I’ll kill you if you continue to be a smartass.” Miku responds with a cold, emotionless voice. “I don’t care what you think about me and whether or not I’m dangerous enough to harm you. Just know that if you try anything funny, you’ll be dead before you can even breathe.” 

Kaito’s smile turns crazed again. “How lovely. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Really? Robbing a jewelry store?” Miku deadpans. She shivers and rubs her arms, trying to keep warm in the cold weather. “In the rain, too. Aren’t you supposed to be smart or something?”

Kaito scoffs at her with wide eyes, dramatically holding his hand to his heart as if her words were extremely offensive. “You wound me, Miku-chan!” Miku lets out a groan. She can’t believe that they’re already on a first name basis, but more importantly, she can’t tell if she’s offended or flattered. Kaito continues, ignoring her: “There’s nothing wrong with a good old heist. It’s a classic! Besides, I get the feeling that you’re not up for some murder anyways.” Miku says nothing, but still feels upset that he’s deciphering her scarily well. 

She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Why are we doing this again? If you want more money, you might as well become a drug dealer.”

Kaito snorts. “Relax,” He responds with a wink. Miku imitates a gagging motion, which just causes him to laugh again. “I’m only a burglar because I can’t get these things legally. I have the money to pay for it, but I can’t just stroll in and purchase it like any other citizen. I’m a wanted criminal.” He replies logically and calmly, adjusting his position. They’re both crouching on a low rooftop, and Kaito would rather not have one of them slip and die of fall damage before they even get to rob anything. What a waste that’d be. 

“Speaking of which, how have you not been caught yet? You’re anything but secretive with your crime, so how are you even allowed in public spaces without immediately getting arrested? Also, if you really want the jewelry, can’t you just get someone to deal it to you?” Miku questions, pulling out another apple and taking a bite. 

“...where do you keep getting those? Apples don’t even taste that good.” Kaito replies, staring at the fruit in Miku’s hand. It’s the first time she’s seen him look both genuinely curious and concerned. 

Miku raises her eyebrows. “I do have a bag with me, you know. You’re a lot more stupid than you let on.” Kaito pretends to be offended again, and Miku just rolls her eyes, chewing on the fruit. “Also, stop avoiding the question.” 

Kaito laughs coldly, eyes devoid of humor. Miku narrows her eyes at him. He keeps switching his personas. It’s pissing me off. “Well,” he starts, “First of all, I’ve been in this city for about a week, not long enough for me to get caught. I have decent connections to underground societies, so I don’t usually run out of hitman work. If I do happen to lose business, I can always just rob some random store or stranger.” He says casually, as if it was any normal thing.

“Second of all, I’m a hitman with deadly skill in the art of killing.” He grins maniacally. “Do you really think any ordinary person would want to mess with me? If they’re barely a threat, I’ll just threaten to shoot them. I tried to kill you right away, because I could tell that you could be dangerous.” Miku’s eyes widen and she can't help but smile to herself. So he isn’t underestimating me after all. Good. Kaito seems to notice her smile, because lets out a small laugh. Miku has to use what little self control she has left to restrain herself from just pushing him off the roof.  

“Lastly, I can survive the authorities well enough. I can either bribe my way out of it with the corrupt, or just shoot them if they threaten me with jail time or violence. Those two tactics almost always work on the cops I have to deal with. Authorities that I can’t use either strategy on are actually rarely on my case.” He shrugs with an easygoing smile. “Even though I’m a murderer, I only really take on offers where my victim is someone…insignificant. Someone who will be grieved, but only by other, unimportant people. That way, the consequences become fairly inconsequential. I won’t kill anybody influential, that’s far too much of a hassle for an ordinary person like me.” He laughs it off, as if he were any average person. 

Miku raises his eyebrows at him. “As if you’re anyone ordinary,” she responds, but her mind was occupied with something else. Someone insignificant. Grieved only by other insignificant people. Kaito was being brutally honest. It was true that those people were undoubtedly ordinary and average, someone you wouldn’t notice and someone you wouldn’t remember. Just an insignificant number to be added to the total population count. Someone with a life that doesn’t matter. Miku stares at the apple in her hands. She fits his description perfectly. She may not be as ordinary as your average citizen, but her life was anything but meaningful. She had no friends, no family. She does not contribute to anything nor anyone. If Kaito were to kill her right then and there, no one would have ever noticed. That’s why she accepted his deal, wasn’t it? She feigns boredom because she’s lonely. She’s not suicidal. She never wanted to die, but her life is so pointless that it’s hard to see why she’s still living.

Miku shakes her head, clearing her thoughts. She turns to look at Kaito instead, nudging him with her foot. “Hey,” she says quietly. “Why’d you start crime anyway?”

Kaito smiles softly, staring up at the rainy sky. “I was bored.”

Miku’s sure she misheard. “...What?” She asks dubiously. 

Kaito turns to look at her. His gaze is soft and gentle, unlike anything she’s seen from him before. “You heard me. I was bored,” he replies simply. Miku’s still staring at him like he’s insane, so he continues, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re not that different, you and I. Let me guess, you’ve been thinking about how well I correctly guess your thoughts and predict your behavior, right?” Miku almost chokes on her apple, but Kaito goes on regardless. “It’s because I see myself in you, Miku. I was like you once, and that’s why I understand you. Why did I start crime? I was bored. I lived a meaningless life with no friends or family. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to enjoy. I woke up, and then I went to bed, and I don’t even remember what I did in between. That’s how pointless it all was. I had no dreams, no thoughts of my own, no simple pleasures or hobbies. You start behaving like a mindless robot, and you forget the fact that you’re even alive at all. You don’t fear death anymore, because in the end it’s no different than being alive.”

He lets out an almost bitter laugh. “I know crime isn’t the best outlet for nihilism. I’m sure there’s plenty of beneficial and positive ways to overcome a meaningless life.” He shrugs. “I guess murder and robbery just stuck with me, for some reason. I won’t pretend like I’m a good person. I’m well aware that human life shouldn’t be taken lightly, and that homicide is morally incorrect. I’m sure my clients have a good reason to kill whoever they see fit, I’m just the middleman in charge of making sure the job gets done. I’m not a vigilante, I don’t kill whoever I think should die because of justice and righteousness. I do it because I get paid to, and there’s a sense of exhilaration with it all. Twisted as it is, frankly, it’s fun. It brings meaning to my life, no matter how morbid it is. And hey, I guess I get some cash out of it too. I get to momentarily pretend like I live a life of luxury.” He shrugs again. “It’s really no different to a nihilist. It won’t give your life any meaning, but at least it makes things easier.”

Kaito smiles at her. Miku thinks it’s the first real one he’s given her since they’ve met. “I suppose that’s why I wanted to partner up with you so quickly. I’m not the best influence, even if we really are so similar. You’re not a criminal yet, and you don’t have to be one. You still have a chance to live a meaningful life, and a beneficial one at that. I know I shouldn’t be saying this after I invited you to a life of crime, but I mean it. Even if you already agreed, you can still turn back now. I won’t ruin any more lives than I have to.” Miku knows he’s being honest. He’s letting himself be vulnerable so that she can truly trust him. 

She knows that he’s right. She’s never committed a crime before, even if she does enjoy a bit of chaos and isn’t the most law abiding citizen, it’s definitely nothing on Kaito’s level. It’s true that she could make a meaningful life out of something legal and positive. But where would she even start? Miku felt like Kaito was her first and only friend, even if she would never admit it. He’s right about the fun part with crime too, even if it’s messed up. The adrenaline rush and the excitement of it all- it’s surely better than living a life of nothing at all, right? 

Miku looks at Kaito and smiles. It’s the first real one she’s given him since they’ve met. Hell, it’s the first time she’s smiled a real smile in a long time. “I’ll stay,” she says gently. Kaito’s eyes widen. “I don’t mind it. I can’t say that I was ever a good person anyway. I don’t want to kill, but I’m fine with other petty crimes. It’s not like the rich bastards who would’ve been the ones to get their hands on the stuff deserve it anyway.” She pulls her hood down and stares into the distance. The city lights are bright and shiny. “...I’m not looking for meaning, necessarily. I’m okay with living a life that doesn’t matter. Most people are living ordinary, insignificant lives anyway. It’s just so pointless, living such a boring and worthless life. It doesn’t feel like living anymore. I don’t need it to be special or important, I just want it to be something, anything.”

Kaito stares at her. He feels seen, for the first time. He already knew that Miku was like him, but he didn’t expect them to be so strikingly similar, almost exactly the same. He smiles softly. “Good,” He responds. “I can’t promise you any meaning, but I can guarantee that it’ll be something. It may not be a good life, but in the end, it’s worth it. To me, at least. It’s worth something.” He grins again, pushing himself up and extending a hand to Miku. “C’mon!” He shouts enthusiastically. “We have a heist to do.”

Miku glances at him for a moment, before letting out a grateful laugh and taking his hand, letting him pull her up. “Sure, sure.” she replies, unable to hide the smile that’s forming on her face. “Jeez, how have you not caught a cold? It’s been raining all …night?” She mutters, holding out her hand. Oh, she thinks to herself. It stopped.

She looks up at the night sky, and not a single cloud is in sight. The moon shines a brilliant, liquid white, and thousands of stars dot the beautiful, shadowy midnight. A soft blue glow is cast onto the entire city, and the distant sound of chatter and laughter fill her ears. Miku feels her breath getting caught in her throat, and she can’t help but let herself laugh freely, the sound resonating through the air. 

Oh, but if it’s not raining anymore, why is my face wet?

Miku places a hand on her cheek. Oh, she realizes. They’re tears. I’m crying. Why am I crying? She looks back at the sky, and she suddenly understands why. 

Because it has meaning now. It’s worth something, this pitiful world. There’s something beautiful about it regardless, something imperfectly special. 

She lets out another joyous laugh. Thank you. The world sees me. It really is something meaningful now, after all. 

Miku tosses the half eaten apple up and down, catching it lazily. Kaito eyes her with a disgusted look. 

“Dude. You need to stop. That only works when it’s an untouched, uneaten apple.” He says, voice laced with concern and revulsion. 

Miku catches the apple only to take another, loud bite out of it, and then immediately goes back to throwing it into the air. Kaito makes a gagging motion, to which Miku snorts.

“I’ll throw it at you if you keep this going,” She replies calmly, a smug smirk growing on her face. 

“This time I’ll really shoot you.” He deadpans, so genuinely that Miku can barely tell if he’s joking or not. Miku just snorts again, taking another bite. 

“You sure have a lot of problems with the way I eat apples,” She adds nonchalantly, speaking through chunks of apple.

“Yes,” Kaito responds, completely serious, staring at Miku as if she’s absolutely delusional. “I do.” He sighs and rubs at his temples, as if eating apples strangely was the world’s most unforgivable crime. Miku half heartedly throws the fruit at him, to which he yelps out a high pitched shriek and narrowly dodges it. 

“I am THIS close to pulling out my pistols and firing at you until you have so many bullet wounds that the doctors won’t be able to identify who you are even after several autopsies,” He threatens lovingly, with a faux sweet and absolutely pissed smile. He grips the handles of his guns as if he means it. Miku honestly can’t tell whether he’s being serious or not at this point, but she smiles anyway.

“Awfully specific. Sounds like you have experience,” She banters cheekily, voice dripping with sarcasm, but she gets back on topic. “But let’s get a move on. What’s the plan?”

Kaito straightens himself, seeming to drop his irritation with Miku’s (fairly questionable) apple eating habits and shoots her an easygoing grin and a wink. “I’m glad you asked, partner!” Miku groans and drags her hands down her face. Sure, they just had a touching moment, but this man has the cringe energy of thousands of wannabe cool fathers trying to talk slang to their kids combined. Kaito’s honestly not even doing anything too bad, he just somehow makes everything insufferable. It’s impressive, really. 

“This one’ll be pretty easy, since it’s still your first time. This jewelry store is fairly new, but nothing special enough to garner popularity. Since they’re new to the business, security measures are still fairly loose, but it’s still a jewelry store with valuable items, so we need to be cautious nonetheless. Our first objective is to get in.” he says, pulling out two hairpins from his coat pocket and spinning them around. Kaito smiles at Miku, jerking his head towards the back of the shop and then motioning for her to follow.

“It’s late at night and the store is closed, so getting in won’t be much of an issue. There aren’t any guards posted, and getting in through the back entrance should be no problem, as I doubt the owners are meticulous enough to install alarms here.” He clicks the pins together and carefully inserts them into the lock of the door, twisting and turning them around until he hears a quiet click, grinning to himself as he turns the doorknob and pushes the door open with ease. Miku sticks her head through and tries to look around, but it’s far too dark to see anything. Kaito opens the flashlight on his phone and waves it around. It seems to be some sort of messy mini office, the floor littered with half opened boxes and supplies. 

Kaito flashes Miku a toothy grin and winks. “Step one done.” 

Miku stares at him incredulously. “That easy?”

Kaito lets out a bark of laughter in response. “I wish,” he begins, stepping further inside, twirling the hairpins between his fingers. “If only it was that easy for every heist. And this one’s just barely started, so don’t fool yourself into thinking it’ll go smoothly at all.”

He picks through a few more locks and doors, mentioning something about teaching Miku how to do so as well, but she only registers parts of the conversation, caught up in her own thoughts. Ironically, Miku finds that she’s not nervous at all. She doesn’t feel the fear of getting caught, the guilt of immorality, the adrenaline of danger, nor the excitement of something new. She doesn’t feel anything at all, which bothers her. Of course, Miku knows they only just got in and that things will start to get more exciting, but her only thought is that everything is incredibly boring so far. She can’t help but feel disinterested in everything going on. As if Kaito could read her mind again, he turns around and shoots her a knowing but smug look.

“Relax, it’ll get more interesting sooner or later. You may not feel much now or even afterwards, but it’s still fairly fun regardless.” Miku lets out a long sigh and shoves her hands into her pockets. Just because she understands why Kaito can see through her so well doesn’t mean that she’ll ever get used to it. Miku’d be lying if she said that his scarily accurate statements didn’t still freak her out a little. Kaito motions for her to come over as he opens the door to the main section of the jewelry store. 

“Now, our second task is to snatch as many of these babies as we can. I’ll give you two options. Do you want to get as much valuables as possible and have a movie style chase scene, or would you rather play it safe and get out as fast as possible?”

Miku considers it for a moment. “Eh, let’s just take the safer choice. Yokohama’s okay enough for me to want to stay a little longer before we’re inevitably forced to leave.”

Kaito nods at her and then at the jewelry shining in the glass cases. “Alright. In that case, we’ll have to move quicker. Go check out what you want to take. I suggest you go for style rather than value, unless you consider yourself a good black market dealer. Once we start breaking the cases, the alarm will go off. I assume it’ll directly contact the police station as nobody’s manning it here right now, and so we’ll have to act fast. Plan accordingly ahead of time for the route you’re going to take when you’re grabbing the jewelry. The station isn’t particularly close, so we’ll have a bit more time.” He checks his watch, and then looks back up at her. “It’ll take around seven minutes and thirty nine seconds for them to get here, so you’ll have approximately six minutes to take whatever before we need to bail. Sounds good?”

“Sure, I guess. What’s the escape route?” 

He gives a halfhearted shrug with a questionable grin and his professional facade immediately disappears. “I’ll figure it out from there,” He replies nonchalantly.

Miku couldn’t believe her ears. Holy shit, I’m one crime in and she’s already going to get arrested. “What the fuck do you mean, ‘I’ll figure it out from there’ ?!?”

Kaito laughs heartily and waves it off, turning away from a thoroughly pissed Miku. “As I was saying, I’ll need to destroy the evidence so we don’t get caught immediately. I’ll locate every security camera in the location and shoot them. To maximize our time, I’ll signal you so we can break through the cases and get rid of the cameras at the same time.” He tosses her a pair of latex gloves and then a hammer. “You don’t want to leave your fingerprint, so wear these. I’m sure the hammer is self explanatory.” He pulls out his beloved pistols with a maniacal grin. “I’ll get to work.”

Miku groans with exasperation, but begins to check out the jewelry anyway. She mentally notes some of the ornaments she finds interesting, such as a pair of large, silver hoop rings and earrings and multiple glittering diamond accessories. She slips on the gloves and turns toward Kaito, watching for his signal to go. He loads his pistol and aims at a security camera, giving a wink towards Miku and starts a countdown.

“3, 2, 1…” 

She raises the hammer above the glass case.

Kaito grins. “Go.” 

BANG!

Miku drives the hammer down and ducks down as glass goes flying into the air, the deafening ring of alarms and the blinding red of the emergency lights filling the room. Kaito shoots the security camera and crushes it under his foot, using the broken device as a step to turn and leap towards the next two cameras, successfully destroying both with two consecutive fires midair. Miku jumps up and snatches everything she can from the broken case and stuffing it into her pockets, before picking up the weapon and dragging the hammer through another case of jewelry, broken shards of glass trailing behind the heavy tool like glittering beads of water. She scoops up all the valuables as she hears more gunshots in the back of the store. Running out of space in her jacket, Miku instinctively chucks the extra accessories at Kaito, who had just ran back inside the building. The jewelry almost hits him square in the face, but luckily he catches it just in time and mockingly shakes his finger at Miku.

“ Tsk tsk,” He scolds her with a smug grin. Somehow she can hear him perfectly despite the sound of the blaring alarms flooding her ears. Kaito takes the hammer from her hands and smashes through the front door, pocketing the spare jewelry thrown at him in the process, shooting Miku a self satisfied smirk. “Careful with throwing stuff that hurts, not everyone has outstandingly fast reflexes like meEWOAHauH-”

“You should be grateful that I’m not holding that hammer anymore,” Miku retorts through gritted teeth, harshly grabbing Kaito’s arm and dragging him through the broken front door. “And shut up, we don’t have time for your idiotic and egotistical remarks.” 

Kaito lets out an operatic and offended gasp, dramatically holding his free hand before his heart. He begins to make another stupid comment but immediately gets interrupted by a hard punch to the ribs from Miku, who then continues pulling his body away from the store. 

“oW FUCK OKAY WE’RE GOING-” Kaito wheezes loudly, covering his ribs but recovering quickly. This time he begins to drag Miku, looking around before he notices an unguarded motorcycle by a nearby shop and pulls her along there. He hops on the vehicle with Miku following and starts it up, laughing maniacally as he begins to hear the sounds of a police siren from behind the jewelry store. 

“START DRIVING, DUMBASS!” Miku yells, pushing him forward.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He responds sweetly, but he presses his foot onto the gas pedal anyway. They propel through the city streets, nearly crashing into several different buildings as the loud sound of the engine and Kaito’s crazed laughter fills the night air. 

“TreetreetreetreetreeTREE THERES A FUCKING TREE THERE!!” Miku screams, reaching over and turning the handles just in time to avoid ramming straight into it, the bark just barely grazing Miku’s shoulder. Kaito shrugs and gives a halfhearted oops. “YOU DRIVE LIKE A DRUNKASS BITCH! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, A GTA 5 PLAYER??” She pulls him backwards to her seat and jumps up to take her place at the front. She turns up the speed and races through the city street, the sound of the police siren long gone. 

“agh MOVE YOUR HAIR IT'S IN MY FACE!” Kaito says, shielding himself from Miku’s long green twintails, which flap wildly in the wind at him. “Wait do you even know where you’re going?”

“No but it’s infinitely better than trying to stop you from crashing into EVERY GODDAMN OBJECT ON THE SIDEWALK!!” 

“Okay come on, my driving wasn’t THAT bad!!” He replies, pretending to be offended. Kaito leans forward and begins pointing directions for Miku, who effortlessly glides through the city streets with zero casualties whatsoever. 

Soon enough, they skid to a stop in front of a large, abandoned parking lot originally meant for a hotel of some sort. Miku hops off the motorcycle, parking it in a dark and hopefully inconspicuous corner. She lets out a long groan, leaning against the wall and plopping onto the ground tiredly. Kaito laughs airily, sitting down next to her. 

“Fun, wasn’t it?” He asks softly. Miku just throws her jacket at him, which makes him laugh again, slinging an arm around her shoulder and ruffling her hair playfully. She can’t help but laugh too, the warm sound resonating through the quiet night. 

Fun, huh? She can’t say for sure whether or not she enjoyed it. But it was something, it was certainly something alright. And Miku supposed it was better than being alone for another night, doing the same thing over and over again every day until it was so repetitive that she forgot what day and week and month and year it was. Maybe it wasn’t the best, but it was something. And she was glad that it was something, rather than nothing at all. The laughter of a friend, the peacefulness of a gentle night. She looked up to the starry sky, and smiled to herself. 

It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

“That driving was fucking terrible though, remind me to never let you near a vehicle again.” Miku says suddenly, completely out of the blue. 

“OKAY NO IT WASN’T!! I’d never drive MY car that badly. Blame it on whoever owns the motorcycle.”

that's it for now, thanks for reading :)

fic was last updated on 6/17/2024, this one may receive an update soon but we'll see.

[lotus-lamps]

hey guys come read this wip vocaloid/pjsk fantasy au fic i made instead of drawing for the weekly light LMAO (so sorry guys i had writers juice and needed to get it down)

oh and if you want while you're at it you should go read my other wip nikoran fic if you want :) i'll make a different advertisement post for that once i update it lmao

[lotus-lamps]

im bored so im gonna post my ao3 works here lmao (yes i AM just going to copy the format)

(ao3 link if you prefer to read it there)

Illusion by Day, Reality by Night

word count: 3.3k | date of creation: 12/28/2023 | status: incomplete, probably wont be updated in a while | fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs |relationships: Ranpo & Nikolai centric, + Fyodor, Fukuzawa, & Fukuchi. Minor one-sided Fyodor/Nikolai.

synopsis: Decay of Angels Ranpo au. Ranpo doesn't follow Fukuzawa's path with creating the agency, and is instead invited by Fyodor to join V, or the Decay of Angels. (angst-centric but idk how to write it lmao)

tw: minor violence, strong religious themes and trauma.

I. in which Ranpo meets an angel.

The living world is a dream, the nocturnal dream is reality.

It was a play he watched once, performed by the ever so dedicated actor Murakami Tokio, and a cast of supporting roles that were highly irrelevant.

When he finished, he found that nothing made sense to him.

Not the play, of course. The play itself was far too predictable and boring, but that was precisely why it made no sense. He was 14 at the time, and he was able to solve a mystery that was meant to be slowly revealed in a span of two hours in two minutes instead. 

Sure, he understood that the story was meant to be simple and obvious. Clearly, it was created with the purpose of shutting your brain down and simply indulging in the theatrics of the actors rather than a difficult mystery to spend your full concentration on solving. Why else would it have been so effortless for Ranpo to figure out? He knew that adults knew better than him. He was just a dumb little kid, and they were all experienced and intelligent grown ups. It wasn't possible for a naive child like himself to be the smart one here. 

What he really couldn’t fathom was the reason why so many people would watch it. It was one thing to allow yourself to enjoy mindless content now and then, but it was another to pay to watch a dull and uninteresting play. People spent 4000 yen to see this play. A LOT of people, too. Ranpo supposed that Murakami was a popular actor, especially among young women, but EVERY seat in the theater was filled. Not only that, they seemed genuinely invested in the play, as if they truly weren’t able to instantly solve the mystery. 

He was going to say something about it during the play. He desperately wanted to. He wanted to know why people sat through this as if they didn’t already know the answers, why everyone was hiding things from him and why nobody would explain anything to him. But he didn’t. He kept quiet, even though he had wanted to scream and tear his hair out because he was terrified, because he was all alone in a world full of monsters. Monsters, because he didn't understand anyone and no one would ever understand him again. But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything, because he was afraid his father would have been disappointed in him if he made a scene out of it, no matter how dead his dad was now. He still remembered the words his father spoke to him, in a gentle and understanding voice:

"Remain modest and stay silent. Don't get carried away, just watch, be quiet, and make sure not to hurt anyone with the things that you realize."

Ranpo didn't really understand what his father meant when he said that, but he listened. He clenched his fist and kept his head down, and stayed silent for all of the intermission and the rest of the play as well. Fukuzawa had stared at him strangely, since he had been constantly rambling previously, but even then Ranpo didn’t speak a word. It wasn’t anything worth bringing up, anyway.

And so when the case ended, Fukuzawa and Ranpo parted ways. Ranpo often wondered why Fukuzawa had left him behind. He knew that the bodyguard was scared of people, in a way that he wanted to stay a lone wolf for the rest of his career, but Ranpo couldn’t stop feeling like he did something wrong. That Ranpo had messed up in some way, because he had this strange feeling that, perhaps, in a distant world, they would have been close, like father and son. The two had certainly worked well together as a team, so why couldn’t it have stayed that way? What changed? Ranpo supposed that he might have been expecting too much from Fukuzawa. After all, he wasn’t obliged to rescue a random boy who just happened to stumble into a job. But now, he was alone, and he came to realize that he might always be alone. He wondered if he would ever come to terms with this fact. 

He had been tuning out for the entire play, but he still distantly registered the plot of the story. It was a tale about angels. Angels, who lost their wings and fell from the skies because of their forbidden admiration of human beings. Angels, who sought out forgiveness and a sense of understanding. 

When he walked away from the play, he had one simple and distinct thought.

Angels aren’t real.  

And yet, today, Edogawa Ranpo met an angel.

Well, “met” would be too generous of a term. Perhaps “caught a glimpse of” would be more fitting. 

Ranpo saw him from afar, legs dangling from the edge of a rooftop and holding an eager and indistinguishable conversation with a stark white dove that perched gently on his fingers. 

It wasn’t noticeable, the fact that the boy he was looking at was an angel. He had no wings, only a long, pure white cape that draped from his shoulders, and so, the wingless bird could not fly. Ranpo wondered if the boy missed the feeling of freedom, or if he longed for the free will that he had never been granted? Then perhaps, a fallen angel would be more befitting of the stranger. 

“The Decay of Angels,” Fyodor absently monologues, as Ranpo turns to look at the companion standing by his side. 

Fyodor glances in Ranpo’s direction and lets out a faint chuckle, with an empty smile that holds no sign of warmth, but his eyes are dark and almost look remorseful. 

“is the name of the organization,” He continues distantly. 

The stranger turns his head towards Fyodor and Ranpo as well, beaming at the former and waving enthusiastically, startling the bird resting on his hand moments ago. The boy has shiny eyes, but an almost empty gaze. Liar’s eyes, is what Ranpo had always called them. He wonders what secrets the boy hides within those lonely eyes. 

“And that,” he says calmly, pointing at the white haired boy and smiling with the grin of a Cheshire cat. “Is our angel.”

II. In which Nikolai Gogol finds a friend who understands his dream.

free will 

/ˌfrē ˈwil/

noun

the power of acting without the constraint of necessity or fate; the ability to act at one's own discretion.

Nikolai Gogol did not always have this dream.

He did however, always love birds. He had always thought they were fantastical, whimsical, and even other-worldly. To fly is a beautiful ability. To have strong, feathered wings, to be able to take flight into the sky and soar through the air at any time they pleased. Doves in particular fascinated him. A symbol of purity and freedom. Winged creatures, angels, were the only ones with true free will.

However, to him, the most intriguing thing about doves was the fact that they were simply just pigeons. How curious, that species with no scientific difference would be rendered so different to human perspective. While doves were regarded as graceful, elegant, and lovely animals, pigeons were seen as disgusting, foul, and dirty creatures. It reminded him of fallen angels, almost, or at the very least a faux disguise of something holy. An ordinary human being, just as normal and sinful as anyone else, hidden and dressed as a divine being. They may pretend to be an angel, but they are just as average as anyone else. The one who recognized that they were a sinner and was seen as one by most, and the one who pretended as if they were a sacred being, lying to themselves. The ordinary and the extraordinary. In the end, they were exactly the same. 

He found that free will was also a strange and interesting concept. Essentially, free will was the ability to act according to one's own decision, without any outside influence or interference. But with this very definition, he found that it simply sounded impossible to achieve. How could one know if it was really their own true mind, their own true thoughts? If you had free will, your choices would not be tempered by your surroundings or fate itself. Yet, time is inevitable. And who is to say that your thoughts are truly your own?

Human action is bound by primal instinct, raw emotion and a deceiving sense of morality. Nikolai wants to know what it means to be a free human being. It doesn’t matter what he has to do. He knows it makes him a terrible person, but that’s the best part of it, isn’t it? To act with a complete conscious awareness that your choices are morally incorrect and harmful to other human beings, and even better, to feel guilt over it, to some degree. He understands that it’s a sign of expectations, a sign of morality, but he finds that it’s a necessary component. If you feel no remorse over your actions that you understood were inherently cruel, how are you any different from a wild beast, an emotionless monster? He wishes not to act as a primal animal, but a real human being, simply a human being who rebels against God. It’s beautiful, exhilarating to be completely free of the chains society imposes onto the human brain, to fully understand what should be done and instead doing the exact opposite.

In the end, he wishes to lose himself. He dreams to let go of his life, for the freedom of his soul. Happiness no longer means anything to him. He only wants to prove his free will. He wishes to be a real human being. A free human being. One that does not fit into the puppetry that society demands. He wishes never to experience the mundane, miserable lives of people the world deems normal. They are slaves to society, mind controlled marionettes who do as told and live an empty, and unfulfilling life with no true desires. 

No one has been able to understand his dream. It’s pitiful, the lives they lead, but in a way, he is almost jealous. A bird born in a birdcage will never know what it’s like to be free. It will grow lonely and miserable, and in time it will forget how to fly. Some will live their entire, pathetic lives inside that cage. Those have no desire to escape, no desire to experience the exhilaration of freedom, the lazy, apathetic ones. The most idiotic and naive of them do not even recognize how trapped and suffocating their existence is. They believe they are in full control, that their lives are inspiring and original. The thought that they were imprisoned for their entire life never even occurs to them. He pities them. He cares little of empathy, but knows much of remorse, of misery. 

Nikolai is aware that he is not free. He may never be. He knows of his fragile and frail mortality, and his life could easily be over before he ever has the chance to break through his prison. Nonetheless, he yearns for the short lived freedom he can gain, no matter how transient those moments are, and he would gladly eradicate society in the process. 

No one has been able to understand his dream, until now. 

A boy his age, with blood stained on his hands, and an empty smile on his face. He too, is willing to destroy worthless human lives if it means he can achieve his dream. Nikolai found it admirable, how dedicated the stranger was to his goal. The boy had explained that he wished to remove society from sin, to create a perfect world free of imperfection. A part of the plan was to wipe out ability users, as the stranger saw it to be a cause for nothing but violence, bloodshed, and suffering. Nikolai found it to be partially true. He was an ability user as well, and his existence had caused the death of many in his village, and many more if he decided to join the boy in his holy mission. 

The stranger killed a person in front of Nikolai’s very own eyes. It was a gentle, silent, and merciful death. The boy had simply placed his bare hand onto the forehead of the man, and Nikolai watched closely as blood suddenly burst out of the man's head as the body fell to the floor, lifeless. The stranger had closed his eyes and mouthed a prayer while blood pooled around his feet. The boy ended with a particular line that stood out to Nikolai:

“May you be freed from the shackles of your crimes, your soul salvaged.”

It was a beautiful and raw line, and it let Nikolai feel an unexplainable sort of elation. Freedom to the soul. Perhaps he would ask for the boy to kill him. The thought of freedom even in death greatly excited him. Nikolai would only allow it on his very own terms though, as he refused to accept any end to his life that wasn’t his own decision. 

The boy turned around and faced Nikolai with a heartless smile on his face. The stranger offered his hand to Nikolai, the one freshly stained with the blood of the corpse on the ground. “Fyodor Dosteovsky,” He states calmly. 

Nikolai feels his blood pumping with exhilaration, mouth slightly agape and eyes lighting up in anticipation. Fyodor must see it too, because the corners of his mouth curl up a little higher. Nikolai seals the handshake with eagerness. “Nikolai Gogol,” He replies with enthusiasm.

Fyodor’s grin widens, baring sharp white teeth and murky eyes. 

“Welcome to the Decay of Angels, little dove.”

III. In which Fyodor Dosteovsky encounters a man with the same ideals.

“Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

Russian Orthodox prayer

Fyodor Dosteovsky gingerly slips his fingers back into his black gloves. The fabric clings to the still damp blood on his skin, but he pays it no mind. He has eradicated another town's worth of ability users. He finds that it is almost too easy. Evidently, there are many whose abilities far outclass his, but he finds that the ones he has encountered are not particularly bright. Or at the very least, not sharp enough to evade a thoughtfully crafted assassination. 

It is to create a more beautiful world. He dreams of an ideal society, in a distant future. Creation can only exist with destruction. If he wishes to perfect his dream, he must eliminate any and all factors that may serve as an obstacle to his holy mission. 

I am crime.

Fyodor has an ability that kills. It is a sinful skill, a power that takes lives at a mere touch. He knows that there will be abilities far more demonic and destructive than his. With such evil in this world, he has no choice but to remove the dangers to this flawed society. Fyodor must ensure a perfect world. He is a demon, born to murder and born to destroy. He is an angel, sent from the heavens above and instructed by God himself to cleanse the world of impurity. 

He does not remember when his ability manifested, but he knows he did not always have this power. His blood is a poison, his skin venom. He is King Midas, condemned to forever silence whoever lies in his path. He is the reaper, taker of lives and embodiment of death. He is the ferryman, a guide for the dead on their journey to the underworld. 

I am punishment. 

It is not a curse, but a gift. God himself bestowed Fyodor the ability to kill. He kills for mercy, he kills for redemption. He is a saint, who grants a peaceful, calm end to the hellish suffering that is life. He is the messiah that delivers salvation to the lonely and miserable. Existence is flawed. Society is imperfect. He was born to create a beautiful world, and he must rid the planet of the filthy sinners and heartless criminals that stain this tainted society. 

Some may consider it cruel, and some may deem it immoral. He has yet to meet someone that understands his holy vision. Perhaps he was always meant to be alone on his sacred journey, purpose destined for Fyodor and Fyodor alone. Perhaps he would forever be shunned and scorned, as it had always been. He was not always a ruthless killer. He was a good person once, a long time ago. A lonely and empathetic boy that no one could understand. A kind and intelligent boy, who paid great attention to the feelings and necessities of the people around him. 

He wonders if he still is. He must be. It is a divine mission, laid out by God himself. He should not need to question the rightfulness of the holy. 

It seems as if he will not always be alone, however.

Today, he met a man who understands him. Fukuchi Ouchi, a war veteran who has grown to despise war and yearns for a peaceful world. He, too, must have grown sick of the suffocating and corrupted structure of society. He sees that warfare is pointless and destructive, a pathetic excuse for massacre and bloodshed. They must have the same ideals. The death of an individual for the lives of a thousand. To Fyodor, the death of a thousand for the eternal bliss of a million. Perhaps the life of that one singular person was just as meaningful as every one of those thousand. But they cannot afford to care about one distinct individual. 

Fyodor smiles to himself. To create is to destroy. 

There was a story once, a story about angels. They could easily be compared to special ability users. The angel was sought out because they could grant forgiveness, the sole person that could offer mercy for the crimes of humanity. Yet it was an angel that killed off the flock of clueless humans one by one. Murder by an angel. A special ability user seeked for their gift to forgive, yet just as many that could just as easily kill. How beautiful and sickening, he thought. There is no true forgiveness in this world, only revenge. Human nature is so predictable and miserably flawed. Human beings are stupid and fall into the same cycles of bloodlust and suffering over and over again, crawling out of their hellish chasms only to jump back in again. He finished the game before his victims had even begun to play. Fyodor would eliminate the angels one by one if he had to. Perhaps he would take his own head once he finished. 

I am crime. I am punishment. I am an angel, blessed and cursed with the ability to kill. People will seek me for redemption, and I will deliver his promised salvation with a touch of merciful silence. They will dream eternally, brought to the skies of heaven to fly until the end of time. The human beings that infest the planet will forever live blissfully and peacefully.

His grin grows wider, sharp teeth vaguely cutting into his lip. The metallic taste of blood seeps into his tongue. He knows he must look insane to the outsider. Perhaps he truly is. 

He would form an organization. An organization of special ability users, with as much distaste for the sins of mankind as Fyodor. V , A group of five people, born to unleash rot onto society in order to make the world a better place. It is a beautiful mission, a holy vision. A flock of angels, created by God’s hand to murder each other. 

Fyodor shakes hands with the man who understands his dream, sealing a deal. They would cooperate to create an organization born for a better world, and in the end, they would kill each other. A resentment with a bond so powerful it ties together enemies bound to betray one another.

The Decay of Angels.

that's it for now, thank you for reading :)

fic last updated on 1/15/2024. im not as active in the bsd fandom anymore, so i probably wont be updating this in a while, sorry :'D.

i dont really like writing on tumblr because its format isnt ideal for me (and no funny authors notes), but ima post it anyway cause its fun lol

[lotus-lamps]

im doing very productive things with my time /hj (wip)