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arigatouiris · 4 years ago

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the fool’s curse // akutagawa ryunosuke x reader

Author’s Note: I absolutely adore Akutagawa and think he deserves the world; and I can definitely see him as being soft with someone he has feelings for and whoop why not give his coughing a reason anyway lmao. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 8k+

Pairing: Akutagawa Ryunosuke x Reader

Summary: ［ＡｋｕｔａｇａｗａｘＲｅａｄｅｒ］: Akutagawa wasn't someone who hoped, he chased after what he believed he deserved, like a dog chasing after cars. Futility was part of existence, after all, and it was a fact he believed he had accepted. Every part of your existence was a bane to his, and he was cursed to have even met you. Love was nothing but a fool's curse, and Akutagawa hated being one. Especially when it was physically killing him in the form of lilac petals infused with blood. [Hanahaki AU]

Warnings: angst to fluff, soft aku, mentions of blood, swearing (because Aku ofc), softness, tooth-rotting fluff, some angst if you squint (Also Chuuya makes an appeareance bc I love that shrimp mafioso)

If Akutagawa could place together pieces of why he was aggravated by your very presence, it wouldn’t have led him to where he currently was. Avoiding your gaze, coughs multiplied by numerous ramifications, hands shaking, forehead breaking out into a sweat—he had never felt more obscenely weak than sitting before you on his bed, having your keen gaze observe his frail body. Numbness coursed through his veins and never before had he wished to disappear more than right then; it was suffocating to sit in front of you while you wordlessly judged him, deemed him moronic in that pretty little head of yours. He stilled momentarily before slapping himself internally; you were no such person. You wouldn’t judge another. The entire reason for his predicament right then was simply because of how perfect you were.

And no perfect human being would dare judge another. Especially not someone as broken as he.

“Is it…” You sounded so defeated, he’d have done anything to hear your giggles and laughter once again, but life wasn’t as giving to him. It had never been. “Is that person… me?”

Indeed, it had always been you. Ever since he had laid his eyes on you, ever since there had been that cursed deepening between the bond he shared with you, the moronic display of his own version of affection that on odd days caught him off guard—ever since he had coughed out blood infused with purple-magenta lilacs, he had known that it was you. He wasn’t familiar with the disease he carried, but he deemed it a fool’s curse to be caught with a feeling as hopeless as this. Yet, you were the one to once again aid him. You were the one who had told him what was happening and it had thus become inevitably clear to him as if it wasn’t clear already; Akutagawa “Rabid Dog” Ryuunosuke was hopelessly, carelessly, irrevocably, and painfully in love with you—a commoner, a medical student, a moron.

The first time Akutagawa saw you was when he was returning from a minor mission. It was something Higuchi herself could have easily handled, but there wasn’t a chance the dog was letting his subordinates handle an entire subgroup on their own. Intimidation was something Akutagawa did best, and it was the one thing he looked forward to when concerned with minor missions such as these. Not that anyone minded that he tagged along; however, once it was done, there was no more reason for him to waste any more time around the area. Returning to the car, he merely had to just stand near the vehicle for Higuchi to come running and start the engine, heading back to the headquarters.

A sudden break harshly pulled him out of his reverie and that was when he saw you—on the other end, hands outstretched and a pleading look in your eye. It wasn’t that he was always quick to anger, he knew there was a reason why you were stopping traffic, and when he craned his neck to look at what you were shielding, the answer was clear. There was a man, frothing from his mouth, shaking uncontrollably on the ground and there you were, wearing a white coat, hair pulled behind you in a messy bun, eyes far too tired to be seen in such broad daylight, begging him to stop his car so that she can at least move the man.

“What should I do, senpai?” Higuchi asked, her voice cold. “Should I ram into—“

“No,” Akutagawa leaned back and watched, “This doesn't concern me.”

“Looks like the man is having an epileptic attack.” The blonde woman said, blinking.

It didn’t matter to him what was happening with the man, but when you pulled yourself over to the window by which Akutagawa sat, he was alerted. You knocked twice, albeit pleadingly at his window, before he turned to Higuchi who easily read the look he gave her incorrectly. Pulling out a gun, she threatened to shoot you before ordering you to back away, but you stood there, staring right into her eyes expressionlessly. Akutagawa blinked before wondering where else he had seen eyes as devoid of fear as yours before lowering his window.

“What do you want?”

“That man is dying,” You said, “You’re the Port Mafia, right?”

Higuchi hissed before shoving her gun forward, but you paid her no heed.

“That’s right. Back away while you know what’s good for you, peasant.” Akutagawa said, looking away from you.

“The Port Mafia loves the city, correct? I’m sure whoever your leader is would agree that saving one man is also in a way keeping the peace. Help me take him to a hospital, and you’ll never see this peasant again.”

Just before Higuchi could try to intimidate you once more, Akutagawa stopped her. It was not the kindness of his heart that decided to go with your pleas. It was not anything to do with a positive emotion at all, it was simply the fact that the nearest hospital was 500 meters ahead, and a frail person like yourself couldn’t possibly move a dying man on your own. You immediately turned to the epileptic man and ignored the helpless, ignorant onlookers before putting one arm under his shaking one, and attempted to pull him forward; however, a long, dark cloth-like substance wrapped itself around the man before pulling him inside the car forcefully, earning a gasp out of you. You stared at Akutagawa before nodding and following him inside. You sat beside the dying man before offering him a piece of metal and placed it in between his mouth, to prevent him from biting his tongue off in shock. Akutagawa watched you from the rear-view mirror without a word, wondering if he was doing something idiotic or if he was actually carrying forward the legacy his organization aimed to keep.

“Senpai,” Higuchi whispered, “Are you sure… this is fine?”

He didn’t answer her but instead turned to you. He noticed that your white coat was no ordinary lab coat, you were a doctor. This explained why you looked so tired and why you wanted to help a random man on the road, but what it didn’t explain was how unfazed you were with Higuchi’s threats earlier; this was what alerted Akutagawa in the first place. The eyes you wore maliciously, the eyes devoid of emotion, especially for a young doctor—it wasn’t ordinary.

“Is there a reason why you’re staring at me?” You asked, turning to him.

“How dare you—“

“Shut up, Higuchi,” He scolded before turning to you with a snarky smirk, “You’re a doctor. Surely, you should know you can’t help everyone you see. You saw the people around you, those are the people you’re trying to protect. Your efforts are futile if it’s thankless.”

“So are yours,” You answered instantly, not meeting his gaze. “Just living is thankless, and yet we thrive. It’s both fascinating and utterly stupid.”

The car stopped and you instantly ran out before calling in someone from the hospital to help you carry the man away. Akutagawa couldn’t forget what you had said; the words slipped out of you as if you memorized them, it was marvelous how effortlessly you had replied to his attempt at minor intimidation. It wasn’t enough for him to be allured by you but the moment Higuchi attempted to drive off, you rushed back and knocked on the window beside his face once more. This time the tired look in your eyes was more than evident, yet the chapped-lipped smile made him queasy. Akutagawa wasn’t always the receiver of such positive reactions from the general public, so this change was bizarre.

“Even though it’s futile, or worthless, I like doing it. And you helped me. So, thank you… Uh…”

“Akutagawa.”

Your smile only widened before you tilted your head a bit, “Thank you, Akutagawa-san.”

His eyes landed on your nameplate inches above your coat pocket and he memorized your name: (l/n) (y/n). He watched as you skirted around and walked into the hospital, not a word was said thereafter. He could feel Higuchi kickstart the car and drive them back to base, but as much as he’d have liked to stop thinking of you, it was, as you had said, futile.

The next time Akutagawa saw you was in a place he’d never expected to find you in. He stilled in his movements when he spotted you walk into the Port Mafia building, guided by two other armed men, before rushing forward to know what you were doing there. He noticed Koyo Ozaki, standing in front of the room you had just entered and he stopped before her, a questioning look in his eye. She blinked at him before wondering what he wanted, Akutagawa wasn’t the type to exchange pleasantries after all.

“Are you looking for the other runt? He’s inside—“

“Why was she here?”

He should have understood that a pronoun with no prior mention to a name would barely hold any meaning to someone like Koyo. She continued to give him a blank stare before wondering if he was referring to you, the girl who had just walked in to talk to Mori. She could have wondered how the rabid dog knew someone like you, but it wasn’t her place to care. Shrugging, Koyo knew that whatever she said didn’t matter right then.

“She’s the daughter of one of Mori-san’s old enemies. He’s trying to recruit her,” Koyo waved her hand callously in the air, “Either that or she’ll be terminated. It’s not really my problem so I don’t know. I’m here because there’s something I need to tell him after.”

What he couldn’t understand was how you were linked to the Port Mafia. Your father was one of the enemies? Did that mean you were an enemy? Were you still linked to your father or had he been terminated beforehand? Not knowing these details, but merely remembering the way you had smiled at him angered him, and he felt a raging cough begin to itch at his throat. Koyo watched as Akutagawa coughed into his hand, feeling the familiar itch that only managed to grow till it burned his nostrils.

“There’s a name for such a disease,” She said, eyes cloudy, “But, I can see you haven’t caught it yet.”

The black-haired man narrowed his eyes at the cryptic words the woman said, before turning to find the door opening. You walked out, this time with no one but Nakahara Chuuya behind you. Your eyes widened when you spotted Akutagawa and a smile adorned your features. You approached him before nodding at him, as to acknowledge him. Chuuya blinked before scratching his chin.

“You know each other?”

“Yes—“

“Barely,” Akutagawa said, in between coughs, “What’s she doing here?”

“You should get that cough looked at, Akutagawa-san. I’d be happy to—“

“Shut up,” He threatened before glaring at you, and then turning to Chuuya, “What’s going on?”

Chuuya shrugged, “This girl’s some hot shot’s daughter, but since he’s dead, Boss decided not to worry about her. Besides, she’s harmless. No ability, just a med student.”

“Nakahara-san, if you would please drop me back from where you rudely picked me up, I’d be grateful.”

Chuuya groaned before shutting his eyes, “Uh, you know, Akutagawa, why don’t you drop her off? You two can catch up—“

“I don’t know her.”

“—and I don’t care. Thanks. See ya!”

Koyo let out a sigh before wandering inside the room Mori-san is in. You turned to Akutagawa before letting out a sigh yourself, and bowing slightly. He watched you with annoyance plastered all over his face, wondering why in the world you were all of a sudden everywhere. Ever since meeting you, you’d been plaguing his mind like some sort of disease, it was angering. He clicked his tongue before leading you out of the building and finding Higuchi’s car. Higuchi had ensured that Akutagawa would have an additional pair of keys with him at all costs, which came in handy just then. Akutagawa hated the position he was in, completing menial tasks that were assigned to someone else first—Chuuya always pushed minor work on to him whenever he felt like it, and now, he was stuck with you—someone he felt agitated around, someone he believed, even breathing felt like carrying a boulder on his shoulders.

“I’m very sorry about this,” You said, just a moment before stopping in front of the car, “If I had known Nakahara-san would simply push this on to you, I’d have refrained from asking him—“

“You think I can’t do something so simple?” He snapped, glaring at you.

“N-No, that’s… I know it’s a burden.”

Akutagawa gave you a look, which was either a mix between confusion and fear—an unusual look for him to sport on his face, having never been used to feeling such intense positive emotions before. You were looking at him, afraid to be a burden? This was his job. There was no burden, there was no blessing. It was all worthless in the end.

“You’re not important enough to be a burden,” He snarled, getting into the car, “Stop worrying over idiotic things.”

“We all worry over idiotic things,” You said, smiling and getting into the car yourself, “I think it’s a part of who we are.”

“Don’t group me along with the likes of you.”

You stayed quiet for a second before nodding, “Yeah,” Akutagawa paused momentarily at your sudden acceptance, “You’re right.”

What did you mean by that? What did you mean by your words? Why did they sound so heavily laced with an emotion that triggered the worst of responses from him? Suddenly, he felt the urge to either slam his hand against the steering wheel out of sheer anger or just stare at you, attempting to decipher any meaning from the words that had just slipped out of you. What a bane to his existence, when answers seemed more confusing than anything Dazai had put him through. Perhaps, you understood from his silence that he was curious about your origins, but now was not the time to unveil anything of the sort. You carried your own burdens, dark and menacing as they may be, but the only solace Akutagawa found in that second was when you turned to him with those very callous eyes and smiled instead.

“Thank you, again.”

This time, he did not fight back. This time, he glanced at you as if you were an enchanting representation of everything he had been missing in his life. With eyes like his, he had never imagined that a smile could even be possible—that anything positive could be linked to the way his mind worked. He had been broken beyond repair, or perhaps that was his assumption, but then again, with the way you were looking at him right then, Akutagawa felt an emotion he hadn’t felt in a desperately long time.

He drove in silence but figured that it was the silence that made things weird for you; he could notice you trying to fill in the gaps with baseless talk, commenting on the weather, talking about patients from your med school, everything and anything that distracted him from your mysterious origins, yet, every time your words would reflect against the barrier of quiet he had put around himself, Akutagawa felt his mind land back on discovering about you. The drive to the hospital wasn’t long, but it felt like one the longest drives he had ever taken. He stopped there, before noticing you still in your seat. You were supposed to get up and leave yet there was this aching hunger in him that demanded you answer his unasked questions before going. You turned to him before blinking a few times, and before you can say anything at all, Akutagawa began to cough. It was something he carried wherever he went, and the confusion he felt around you only made it worse. This proved that you were merely a disease, an error in the making. There was nothing he would get from you apart from violent chest burns and a waste of time. You reached forward to touch him out of worry, but he grabbed your wrist so harshly you winced, pulling away out of instinct. As he coughed, he turned to you with a menacing glare—warning you to never attempt to do that again.

“Akutagawa-san, I—“

“Don’t,” He took a raspy breath, before coughing again, “Don’t touch me!”

He gripped harder, knowing full well that the pressure was enough to hurt you. Yet, you sat there, worried eyes plastered toward his form. He hated it. He hated when you directed such a look toward him, he hated being scrutinized by your apparent kindness. Who were you to direct it toward him anyway? A nobody. A peasant. A moron.

You pulled back quietly, but he wouldn’t let go. You stared at him before letting out a breath; it wasn’t sympathy that pushed you to do what you did next, it was the only human emotion you didn’t feel too ashamed displaying out in the open—care.

“Akutagawa-san, normally when I study I go to this cafe in central Yokohama,” You pursed your lips, wondering if this information would even make a difference, “The silence there, the… the atmosphere of the place makes it too easy for me to relax and just read. And they have great tea, too!”

“What useless information.”

You smiled a bit before shaking your head and opening the door, “I hope I see you around, Akutagawa-san.”

When you got out of the car, Akutagawa wasted no time in driving back. The fact remained: he stayed there any longer, he’d merely be wasting time. Yet, for some reason, your presence lingered in the seat that you were sitting in earlier, and when he thought of that he felt the sudden urge to cough yet again. However, this time, he felt a tad bit different than general. The cough that carried over began from his chest, phlegm that was never present before manifested out of nowhere and he thought for a second if he had been out in the cold for too long or if he had eaten something to have caused such a reaction, but the image of your bitter smile marred with those callous eyes of yours catered to create a tornado within his chest that left him a breathing, aching mess of disgruntled coughs that radiated a new weakness. It has to be a cold, he thought before continuing on driving back.

Gin never asked her brother to accompany her when she took evening walks, but that evening since he was also quite free, the siblings decided to get some tea together. He always merely followed after her, since she knew the place better than he ever did; yet, Akutagawa did things differently that evening. He walked alongside his sister, mumbling something about a quiet cafe in central Yokohama, and Gin paused.

“How do you know about that?” She asked, “It’s one of my favorite places to go to.”

So, you weren’t lying. It must be a decent place if his sister approved of it, hence there was no reason to not go. It wasn’t as if he was going there to see you—the last thing he wanted was to see you and have you invoke that disgusting emotion in him again. The mere thought of you made him want to cough some more, but he was well hydrated that evening. He followed Gin toward the central streets, finding a lone cafe toward the end of the street; he walked inside, but when his chest ached, he realized you weren’t there.

“The tea here is really good.” Gin said before going over to sit at a table.

He took a few seconds before seating himself across from her, feeling the urge to cough once more. Pulling out his hand, which was nestled in his pocket, Akutagawa coughed violently into his fist, alerting his sister. As he coughed, he could feel phlegm build up in his fist but the second his eyes landed on what he had coughed out, Akutagawa froze. Mixed with his own blood sat a tiny petal, a purplish-red hue on it and he couldn’t tell if it was the blood that gave it that color or not. When he breathed in, he felt as if something were lodged in his chest and the more he coughed, the more he coughed out the petals as if there was a live plant growing inside him. Excusing himself, Akutagawa headed inside the cafe’s bathroom before finally allowing himself to cough freely. Four more petals shoved themselves out of his throat before his eyes leaked tears that burned his skin. What was this new sickness? Was this an ability?

His eyes widened. He had understood. It was you. Ever since he had seen you, he had been infused with a different cough. This was your doing. You were trying to take out the strongest rabid dog in the mafia for your own intentions; perhaps, it was because your father was Mori-san’s enemy, perhaps you wanted revenge for something that happened in the past. Perhaps, your smile meant nothing, after all—it was all a farce so you could take him out, and Akutagawa had been the fool and fallen for your trick. He washed his hands thoroughly before knowing full well that the next time he’d see you would be him barging through your apartment door, demanding answers for what you had done to him. Whether he’d kill you or not wasn’t too clear yet, but he was sure of one thing.

He felt like he would die if he didn’t see you. Thinking of the petals that he had coughed out, Akutagawa was more than sure that death was imminent.

Your hands were shaking and you could barely breathe; the anxiety rappelled from inside your mind and held a vine-like grip all over your body. You knew it was futile to try and breathe or get any studying done with the way you were being, but you had to try. Tears leaked out of your eyes and it felt as if waves were crashing inside your head and every inch of you was drowning and you did very little to try and hold on to the limited reality that was visible to you. You breathed in heavily before another sob cracked through your throat, sinking your entire body to the ground. Your books lay scattered everywhere and you tried to swallow some saliva to soothe your aching throat, but your body wasn’t listening to you and neither was your mind.

So, at that moment, when the door barged open and black cloth-like arms wrapped around you, pulling you to the air, you let it take you. You shut your eyes before the sobs only multiplied, now you were both scared for your life and desperate, but no part of you would run. You were held in place until a familiar voice pulled you out of the reverie you were in, bringing you back to where you had been before the breakdown happened.

“What’s wrong with you?” Akutagawa asked, narrowing his eyes.

He hadn’t expected to find you in such a pitiful state. Surely, if you were a mastermind of deception, you’d be a little more prepared. You didn’t look like you were anywhere close to prepared, you didn’t even look like you were willing to fight. When you opened your eyes, he saw it again—the hollow, empty shells that they were despite the sobs that broke through your lips. Had he scared you? No, you had been in that pitiful state even before he got there. He felt his chest burn once again and that made him think of your ability—the one you had apparently used on him.

“Akutagawa-san…” Your voice was raspy, and it was then he realized it might have been holding on to you far too tightly to deem comfortable. “…please…”

He didn’t know what you were asking for but he let you down and waited. Were you going to give him the answers he needed? Was everyone going to be made clear? What was it that you did? What was your master plan?

“I’m… I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” You said, letting out a bitter chuckle, “And… my door… You broke it.”

He turned to look at the door and he had indeed broken it down, but that wasn’t the problem. He looked back at you before noticing that you were standing up now, walking toward your kitchen. He couldn’t understand why he let silence envelop both of you right then, but no part of him was complaining. Strangely, being around you had calmed his chest and there was no cough that radiated from within. He followed after you before watching you carefully, noticing you wipe the remaining tears that had stained your cheeks.

“I… I get anxiety attacks around my exams. I feel like I’m never good enough. No matter how hard I work, how much effort I put it… It’s all…” You bit your lip to stop it from shaking, “…I’m not going to stop, though. I won’t stop. I want to be a doctor. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’m going to do this. I have to.”

“Why does your father know the boss?”

You stilled for just a moment before continuing with making tea. You pulled out two cups, one for him and one for you, and despite not knowing him enough, the silence that he so well carried with himself was strong and special. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, an eerie thing to feel so loudly, and during every third breath, Akutagawa felt breathless.

“My father was an assassin,” You said, “Gave up that line of work and became a drug kingpin here. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been told I was useless if I didn’t do as he told me to. I did everything. I… everything.”

Akutagawa’s eyes widened. He watched you as you effortlessly made tea and poured it into his cup. A small dash of honey, and chamomile tea bags, and a kitchen where the aroma was enough to intoxicate a blind person. He had never imagined drinking a tea like this and yet, no part of him complained.

“You killed people.”

You looked barely 20 years old. So that could only mean you were a child assassin. After all, it was an easier profession for children.

“No one expects a child to kill, especially if she’s smiling.” You smiled sweetly, yet the callous expression in your eyes never faded.

You turned to him a second later before Akutagawa coughed into his hands, multiple petals falling into his fist and then to the floor. You froze as you realized what this was, your hands flying to his now bloody wrist. He caught the bruise he had given you the other day and made no attempt to stop you. You opened his palm and found more lilac petals, covered in phlegm and blood and you stared. Akutagawa didn’t understand what your look meant but waited nonetheless. When you looked up to meet his gaze, he could swear that the callousness in your eyes was slowly fading.

“Akutagawa-san…” Your voice was a whisper, “This is the hanahaki disease.”

“What is it?” His voice was coarse, again from the intense coughing.

“It’s… It’s a sign you’re in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same for you.”

“Love?” His eyes widened as he repeated the preposterous word, “L-Love, you say?”

He pulled his hand away from you, letting the bloody petals fall to the floor. You looked at him pleadingly before he coughed some more, slapping the tea from the counter and spilling it everywhere.

“What a useless emotion!” He screamed, “Love!? That’s what’s gotten me weaker?!”

“Does it anger you that you can love?”

�� He clicked his tongue before pushing you away, wondering what in the world he was even doing there in the first place. He had gotten to know who you were, he had gotten to know what your deal was and yet—every part of him wanted more. It was quiet desperation that he couldn’t quite understand or grasp to his fullest capabilities, and this inadequacy left him aching on the inside. You stared at him before pursing your lips, what more could you tell someone who refused to believe that no one could be broken enough to not love?

“Your anger and emotional outbursts usually result when someone penetrates to the core of what you don’t like about yourself or still cannot accept.”

“Get rid of it,” Akutagawa threatened, “Get rid of this… this thing!”

You wondered if he knew what he was talking about. Did he even know where these emotions came from? Did he even know why he was feeling this way? Had he ever acknowledge that he could feel love for another person? You slowly got up from where you were pushed to and let out a shaky breath.

“Akutagawa-san…” You began, “There is a way to remove it.”

“Good. What is it?”

“The person has to love you back.”

“How useless—“

You threw yourself at the man before noticing him turn fiercely rigid. While it was miraculous that he didn’t outright push you away, it was also a tad bit disappointing that he stood as if was waiting for it to be done. The first time you saw Akutagawa’s face, you had seen that he was someone who was constantly running. Either from his past, from his pain, or toward a goal he would never reach, Akutagawa’s journey revolved around his own imperfection. It was a desire that dug so deeply into you that it gave you every right to see yourself in them. After all, you had broken off such ties after your father’s demise. Yet, no part of you, physical or otherwise, had forgotten what killing had done to you. It had robbed you from a chance to live a regular life, and here was another person, going through the very same thing.

However, to see that he had developed a disease that proved limerence in such a deep context could only mean that there was still hope left for you as well. After all, it was the deeply broken that knew how to love best. For they knew what was constantly at stake, and they know the pain of devastating loss. Pulling back, you made a vow to yourself. If you eventually did become a doctor, if you eventually did end up saving more lives than you had ended in the past, it must and should begin with Akutagawa. Because only then could you truly save yourself.

“I’ll help you,” You said, earnestly, “I’ll make it happen.”

Kindness, as worthless as he believed it was, did not assist in making someone stronger. It never worked with him, it never persuaded him as much as hate and pain did, yet, there was something to intoxicating about kindness that made him crave for more. As he looked into your eyes, Akutagawa saw a radiance he had only dreamt of seeing before; a radiance he had grown to believe did not exist in the world, a radiance he had attempted to protect in the past. Inching closer, Akutagawa felt the constricting in his chest increase as he closed the distance between you and him, yet, he paused. He couldn’t move a step further. You smiled a second later before holding his hands, bloody and messy, it didn’t look like you cared.

“So, who is this person?”

The next time Akutagawa saw you, he wasn’t expecting to see you. A careless slip in a battle deemed him worthy of a strong injury; he was distracted by the lilacs he had been coughing out and didn’t see an incoming blow, which scraped him at his left hip—missing the bone. While he knew he could allow Higuchi to help him, every part of him ached for you. Pushing aside Higuchi, he got into the streets walking toward your apartment. He remembered the way as if it were the back of his hand, and it led him to you, painstakingly. He wanted to move faster, he wanted to see your face despite knowing that the injury wouldn’t necessarily kill him. After all, you had said you’d help him.

The person has to love you back, you had said; and how ironic that was. Akutagawa went chasing after people who would constantly deem him inadequate; he would never be enough, and that was what this disease was telling him. It was practically ending his life because he would never be enough—and what more proof would he need? Every inch of his body craved for another and yet, the other person knew nothing of his growing limerence. It was killing him and yet, there was nothing that could save him except his own demise. What an ironic way to die, he thought, as he reached your door. You had fixed it the day after he had broken it down, and ever since, he believed that reaching you would require him to use a softer approach. Soft like your skin—the very same skin he had bruised the first time he had touched it.

You opened the door and your eyes instantly widened; Akutagawa took one step further, but your arms wrapped around him before pulling him to your chest, his chin landing on your shoulder, your hands wrapped around his back. You could feel his heavy heartbeat before dragging him to your bed. Just as you were about to remove his jacket, he stopped you—not allowing you to touch it.

“I…” His raspy voice scared you, “I… don’t want to hurt you.”

“How would you—“

He didn’t let you finish and simply removed the jacket himself, before laying on the bed; you carefully placed the jacket around the chair and got to work on Akutagawa. You carefully removed the shirt that was stained with his blood before bringing in all the required materials needed to clean his wound first. You didn’t hear a wince from him the entire time, knowing full well that it would sting him beyond belief. It was as if he was used to the pain, and wasn’t moving because somehow this pain had been familiarised. You felt your heart go out for him, but your hands continued working on his wounds. You sat beside him to his left, where the wound was, and continued dressing the large gash, before momentarily feeling his right arm grasp your wrist. You looked up to find Akutagawa staring into your eyes, some sort of pleading look embedded in them.

“Does it hurt?”

He shook his head before freeing you, and it was then you realized how soft his touch actually was. Unlike the last time when he had bruised your wrist, Akutagawa’s touch was almost feather like; they say soft feathers cannot make a cruel bird kind, but Akutagawa had led his entire life believing he was nothing but cruel and it took him one touch, just one touch at your wrist to learn that he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was the wound that was making him think this way or if he was finally seeing things clearly, but the view he had by sitting right beside you, gazing into your form as you cleaned his wound, was the only thing he believed he’d want to see for the rest of his life. Dazai’s approval meant squat if it meant being able to sit beside you in absolute silence; if life allowed him to meet you, learn of your existence and perfection, then there was some redeeming quality in him that gave him the right to be sitting by you.

“Doesn’t hurt.” He said, truthfully, before feeling the urge to want to touch you more. He wanted to be touched by you, and hopefully, he wouldn’t push you away as he had before. He wanted nothing more than to be gentle, feel your hair between the pads of his fingers, watch you as you studied, wrap you in his arms gently if he ever saw you crying again—Akutagawa wanted to wholeheartedly detach his anger whenever you were around and it was your existence that gave him the confidence that it was possible.

“I…” You said, “I don’t know your full name.”

“Akutagawa Ryunosuke.”

You gulped before pursing your lips.

“Is it okay if I call you Ryuu?” He blinked at you, “L-Like when we’re alone! I mean… I’m not saying I don’t like your name, I… just… well, you can call me (y/n), if you’d like! I just… I think… I like—“

“Do as you wish.”

You smiled a bit before taking the bandages in your hands. With the sound of your heart pounding the way it was, Akutagawa didn’t realize that it had been roughly 2 hours since he had last coughed out flowers. Perhaps, the pace with which it slowed meant something. Perhaps, it didn’t. He wouldn’t be able to tell for a while at least.

On odd days, Akutagawa found that his cough was getting better; a sign that presented him with an emotion he once believed was dead in him—hope. He remembered your words loud and clear that this disease called for the person he was in love with return his emotions for him to stop dying. However, the cough didn’t entirely stop. During nights when he missed your presence greatly, Akutagawa’s coughs were enhanced—lilacs poured out of his chest like a clogged waterfall let free, and his eyes stung with the intensity with which he remained a trembling mess of a person he thought he was. Despite learning to accept his emotions for you, on nights like these, Akutagawa was reminded of how weak he truly was, of Dazai’s harsh words for him that were imprinted in his very soul, of how inadequate he felt to even earn a disease such as this. When his hands shook, he felt the fear of dying—not of losing his life, but of never being able to see you again. And thoughts like this left him skirmish, it left him aching for his past-self, where he had never met you, where he wouldn’t have had to face such a metamorphosis that ridiculed him in such a manner.

Akutagawa was not used to hoping for love, he was only, in every right, a giver. He chased after everything he thought he deserved, yet never realized that chasing it was never the right way for him to attain it. On nights like these, where he begged for a power that would rid him of his emotions for you, he’d wake up regretting those very words for the prospect of being able to see you, protect you, stay by your side and earn your precious silence. Some part of him always yearned for something that enveloped him not in a sense of passion but a calm care. Akutagawa needed someone he could rely on to not always expect him to perform or achieve some standard. Someone who saw how quiet he was and respected it. Not that no one ever had, Gin had always admired his tenacity and intrinsically quiet nature. It was the expectation that his life now put on him that broke him, more than just a little.

The next day poured onto him excruciating pain. His chest and throat burned, and he could barely open his eyes. His sister who was living with him knew that his coughing had reached a dangerous point, yet she knew that meddling with his affairs would infuriate him more. Yet, the worry seeped out of her and she forced herself to barge into his quarters and at least ask him what she could do. It wasn’t like him to take a day off from work, but in his current state, even standing up could be a challenge.

“Nii-san,” She voiced, “Is there something I can do? Someone I can bring who can take a look at—“

“No. Get out.”

Gin pursed her lips before walking away quietly, recalling with everything she had if there was someone she had seen her brother speak to who could help. She contemplated calling Chuuya, or anyone else from the Black Lizard, but involving the Mafia would only anger her brother in more ways than one. Taking in a deep breath, she found herself walking toward her favorite cafe, wanting to bring back some tea for her brother—the tea she knew he enjoyed. Calming chamomile tea always soothed him, rid his anxieties, which might even assist in his coughs. While she had no idea the origin behind those coughs, she knew they were different from the regular tickle in his throat.

On reaching the cafe, she felt a mild tap on her shoulder, which she knew must have alerted her beyond belief, but the person whose eyes she landed on caused Gin to blink with confusion. She had seen you before, but she couldn’t understand where. You looked at her with an awkward expression, a quiet sort of worry seeping out of your bones.

“I… I know you’re acquainted with Akutagawa-san? I was… Well, I wanted to know how he’s doing?”

Gin’s eyes widened. Were you a friend of her brother’s? Not that she wasn’t surprised with her brother having a friend in the first place, especially that friend being a regular girl like you. She contemplated letting you know that her brother’s condition was deteriorating at a quicker pace than she had ever thought, but wondered if it was the right thing to do. What would Ryuunosuke want her to do? What would she do? Pausing for just a moment, Gin realized she was thinking too hard. She’d now do what any sister would.

“He’s not doing so well,” She spoke honestly, “If… If you can come take a look, I think he’d appreciate it.”

When your eyes widened with horror, Gin knew she may have done the right thing. You bit your lip and nodded, before following her out of the cafe; she led you to their shared apartment before also slipping in that she was his sister and not anyone you’d have to think too hard over. You blushed when Gin made it clear but refused to speak about it. Once inside, Gin nodded before leaving to work, knowing full well that her presence was no longer required. You jumped when you heard violent coughing coming in from a room with a closed door, and you slowly approached it, your heart pounding rapidly; however, just when you could feel your heartbeat in your ears, blinding you and depriving you of focusing on any other senses, your hands stilled before they could reach the doorknob. Sudden silence enveloped the room, and it slowly made sense to you on what was going on. With the way he was avoiding you these few days, with the way how he suddenly turned soft toward you, with the way Akutagawa helped you—your mind spat at you for never seeing it before. Tears filled your eyes before you realized that his disease was your fault, in almost every possible way, and instead of blaming you, he was taking it on himself.

“Ryuu?”

Akutagawa froze on the bed where he lay before staring at the ceiling. With the rapidity of his growing coughs, he was almost sure that you would never return his affections; he didn’t even want affection, in the first place. What Akutagawa wanted and needed never intersected, they were parallels that would never meet, yet somehow you were now standing opposite his door, calling him by a name no one would dare call him by.

And the strangest thing of all, he let you.

“What are you doing here?” Violent coughs only made his voice sound weaker than he felt, and he hated every second of it.

“Can I come inside?”

“How did you get here?” He sounded angry now, almost raging.

“Please,” His heart ached when you pleaded. He’d give you anything in a heartbeat, but he couldn’t understand why this was so hard, “I want to see you.”

His eyes widened. You wanted to see him? While it didn’t make sense, no reply from him gave you the assurance you needed to enter the room he was in, and the second his eyes fell on your form, Akutagawa felt breathless. He couldn't take his gaze from you. Your wide, wondering eyes were like soft midnight, star-glittered with forgotten tears. The curves of your body looked firm and sweet, nothing but inviting, sensual softness. If you were his... he might finally have the sense of ease other men had. No more spending every minute of the day striving and hungering and never feeling sated. But, was that even possible?

“The hanahaki disease,” You began, standing a few feet away from him, “It’s when you love a person who doesn’t feel the same,” He could hear your voice tremble, and he felt like scum for letting it get here, “I’m not sure entirely but…”

If Akutagawa could place together pieces of why he was aggravated by your very presence, it wouldn’t have led him to where he currently was. Avoiding your gaze coughs multiplied by numerous ramifications, hands shaking, forehead breaking out into a sweat—he had never felt more obscenely weak than sitting before you on his bed, having your keen gaze observe his frail body. Numbness coursed through his veins and never before had he wished to disappear more than right then; it was suffocating to sit in front of you while you wordlessly judged him, deemed him moronic in that pretty little head of yours. He stilled momentarily before slapping himself internally; you were no such person. You wouldn’t judge another. The entire reason for his predicament right then was simply because of how perfect you were.

And no perfect human being would dare judge another. Especially not someone as broken as he.

“Is it…” You sounded so defeated, he’d have done anything to hear your giggles and laughter once again, but life wasn’t as giving to him. It had never been. “Is that person… me?”

A fool’s curse, he had deemed it—love was nothing but just that. He was a dark, damaged individual with a past that deemed him unworthy of your gaze, of your silence, of your soft fingers grazing his hair in dreams that felt forbidden to even wake from; Akutagawa wondered why it was that he even fell for you, in such a short duration of time, with limited interaction, with wordless conversations. And yet, the answer hit him. He didn’t need much from you, only a smile. A smile from your callous eyes, eyes that were like how his once were; and when he was someone who couldn’t smile the way you did, you had won over life in a way he never had. This sight—this very sight of your victory over a life that had deemed you unworthy, captured his heart. In you, Akutagawa saw every single desire that he had locked away, that he had deemed irrational and asinine. And you wore the irrational and asinine parts with pride.

When he didn’t answer, the answer came to you. Tears leaked down your eyes as you reached forward and combed his hair, feeling him tense under your touch. Akutagawa wasn’t touch-starved, he didn’t starve for something he had no idea about. Yet, when your fingers skimmed through his hair, the need to breathe followed quickly after. He shut his eyes and leaned into your touch almost instinctively, before feeling you wrap your other hand around his neck and pull his head to your chest. You stood beside him as he sat on his bed, his head resting on the valley of your breasts. Your hold tightened and Akutagawa felt like he could die right then and there would be no regrets.

“Ryuu…” You cooed, rubbing your hands in his hair. You smelt divine, almost intoxicating and he wondered if opening his eyes would have you disappear. You pressed your chin to the top of his head and he felt so ridiculous, he wondered if he should push you away or pull you closer. You answered his question by bringing yourself closer anyway, pressing your nose to his hair.

“I’m so sorry,” You said, tears leaking out of your eyes. “I love you! I do! I love you so much!”

Akutagawa’s eyes widened, before he turned, only to be pressed into your chest more. He calmly lifted one of his hands, touched your arm and pushed you away slightly, and noticed your drenched face. He looked at you like you were a fool, before shaking his head.

“You said I’ll stop coughing once the person I—“

“Yeah—“

“I haven’t stopped coughing.” He said, eyeing you like you were a liar.

You shook your head before throwing your hands softly against either of his cheeks; you could see them turning red, but you didn’t mind.

“That was because you truly believed I couldn’t return your feelings, Ryuu. How will your disease know I love you if you don’t believe it first?”

Was it truly that simple? It marveled him at how much of a moron you were, feeling love for a murderer like himself, but you were crying for him—you were miraculously here in his apartment, holding him like your life was dependent on it. He was no fool, and he never really pushed aside what his eyes were seeing, so while he was slowly becoming aware that you returned his feelings, he wanted to scold you for the dumbest choice you had ever made. Yet, instead of doing any of that, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke did something else that took your breath away.

Reaching forward, he grazed the pads of his fingers across your cheek, wiping a stray tear that threatened to fall lower, and he tried smiling. Callous eyes and a hopeful smile—the only thing that got him to fall for you, Akutagawa now tried his best to return it, knowing full well he owed you at least that much. Your eyes widened at the sight he presented you with before you placed a shaky hand on his that was on your cheek. Leaning into his touch, you wondered if two broken people could ever love, yet, with the way he was smiling right then, you would be damned if you came close to calling him broken.

Leaning forward, boldly, you placed a kiss on his head, causing his eyes to turn to saucers with the unfamiliar action. You felt him tense up once again, and you held him close despite that, knowing full well that whatever was foreign to him wasn’t essentially bad, all you had to do was familiarise Akutagawa to love and he would learn to accept it better. Looking up, he pulled you down from the back of your neck and pressed his lips to yours—you could feel how dry they were, yet, that didn’t stop you from kissing him back. You could feel his hands tremble with the way he was holding you, not used to pressing softly, yet hard at the same time. When Akutagawa pulled apart from you a few moments later, it felt as if he was breathing for the first time. You allowed yourself to sit beside him now, enveloping the silence around you as if it were a comforting blanket. He looked at you so gently, slipping his arm around you and stroking your hair with a movement so soft you wondered if he realized he was doing it. He was capable of such softness that it presented as a strength instead of what he truly believed it was.

Nakahara Chuuya often finds himself in strange wine stores, looking for the wine he knew he could spend money on, wine more expensive than the one he had bought previously, keeping up with a mental game with himself. Walking out of the store, he spotted you—someone he believed he’d never see again, wearing a sundress and hair done up in a complicated plait that had you looking cute if he were being honest. He shook his head before focusing on getting home and drinking to some food, but just as he turned away, he turned back to you with wide eyes, almost dropping the wine he had bought, but he was glad he had his ability to prevent that from happening.

What the f*ck? Chuuya thought when he saw Akutagawa slip his hand in yours, in a movement so casual that it seemed almost out of character for a rapid dog to act like a Labrador in love. You smiled at Akutagawa who returned half of it before Chuuya wounded if he was looking at Akutagawa at all in the first place. A moment later, he noticed the man slip his arm around your waist before leading you away from the area, in such a nonchalant yet casual manner that it left bewildered Chuuya to just stand there with his mouth ajar and heart raging. How the f*ck does that runt have a lover? Chuuya’s thoughts weren’t jealous, or even close, but it was a pure shock that left him jaw-dropped.

Well, whatever, he thought, before heading home, reminded thanks to Akutagawa and his new girlfriend that Chuuya was to drink alone that night. Again.

#akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke #chuuya nakahara #port mafia #rabid dog of port mafia #akutagawa bungo stray dogs #rashomon #ryunosuke akutagawa x reader #akutagawa x y/n #hanahaki au #akutagawa hanahaki #dazai #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #akutagawa fluff #akutagawa angst #soft akutagawa

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bungou-stray-dingus · 5 years ago

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Heey! (I'm secretly praying that you're still doing requests) If you do, can i request a headcanon of Akutagawa with an s/o who thinks Rashoumon is cute and would like to play with it? Thank you, i love your blog~

No need to pray, dear. I will always accept requests. I love getting them, and this is so cute, thank you soooo much!!!!

TW : slight Lemon and hints at (N)SFW

You watched as he trained his subordinates, Rashomon appearing in between Akutagawa and the man across from him. The man cowered in fear at the snapping jaws of the demon, but you watched in awe at the ability. Something deep inside of you made you want to reach out and pet it. It was... adorable. You wondered how Akutagawa would feel if you told him that. He wouldn’t like it at all, Rashomon was scary, it’s a demon, you should be terrified of his ability... so why weren’t you?

After the training was over you skipped over to him, a wide smile on your face as you stood in front of Aku. The two of you were polar opposites, something that many people questioned when they realized that you were dating. “Yes?” He asked, staring down at you with the same blank expression he wore for everyone else.

“I like watching you teach... can I watch next time?” You asked, clasping your hands behind your back as you rocked back and forth on your heels.

“If you’d like.”

“Can I see Rashomon?” You asked, quieter this time as you braced yourself for his reaction. He eyed you suspiciously, obviously confused by your request, but he didn’t like making you unhappy, so he took a step back as he made Rashomon appear in between the two of you.

It didn’t show it’s fangs, it didn’t look like a demon at all in that moment. You shakily reached out to touch it and Akutagawa looked on in horror and confusion as you ran your fingers across the black monster. “What are you doing?” He asked, and you peaked around the demon to look at him.

“It’s cute.... like you.” You said, and he felt like he should be angry... He would have been angry if anyone else said it, but you looked so cute with that sweet smile on your face.

“Hmph.” He grunted, pulling Rashomon back. “Rashomon is not cute, it is a demon that you should be very afraid of. Don’t tell people that you think it’s cute either.”

“M’kay.” You said in the most cheery voice he’d ever heard. You were unaffected by his glares or the way he always sounded angry or annoyed with you, you knew that he wasn’t.

He placed his hand on your lower back as he lead you of into the streets. He slipped on his sunglasses which you thought was the weakest attempt at a disguise you had ever seen, but somehow a pair of shades made him a thousand times more attractive so you didn’t tell him how ridiculous the disguise was.

“Can I play with Rashomon when we get home?”

“No. Rashomon is not a toy. You’re being childish.” He scolded you and you dropped your gaze to the sidewalk, picking up the pace to walk ahead of him. “What are you doing?” He called after you, a hint of agitation in his voice.

“I’m walking. What are you doing?” You called back, and the sass you delivered caught him off guard and he took a second to compose himself.

“You’re not being very good right now.” He said through clenched teeth and you finally stopped, turning around to face him.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You teased, your hands on your hips as you tried to mirror the scowl that he was giving you. He caught up quickly, wrapping his arm tightly around your waist.

“You’ll find out when we get home.” His voice was low as he whispered his threat into your ear.

Once inside the house he had you pinned against the door, Rashomon nipping at your neck as Akutagawa stood back, watching your reactions. It wasn’t what he was expecting, not at all. Your smile agitated him, was Rashomon really not scary?

“I guess I should make you mad more often.” You said and his eyes widened as he realized what you meant.

“You’re not as sweet as you want the world to think.” He said, but he was impressed with your ability to get what you wanted in the end.

“I never wanted the world to think I was sweet. Although I don’t mind the assumptions.” You ran your hand across Rashomon as you walked the space between yourself and Akutagawa. You stood in front of him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I just wanted to play.”

“Only you would want to play with a demon.” He was thoroughly amused at your idea of fun. He did enjoy seeing you have fun with his ability though, it was strangely endearing to him, knowing that you liked every part of him, including his demon.

“Well you don’t like fun, maybe Rashomon does.” You winked and he pulled Rashomon back again, it felt like a whip against your ass and the sting quickly turned to pleasure.

“Hmm?” He murmured as you raised an eyebrow at him. It wasn’t normal for him to act like this, your words must have struck a nerve.

Playing with Rashomon ended up being more fun for Aku in the end, he always found a way for your “playing” to end up in the bedroom. Even when it didn’t end with you exhausted under the sheets next to him, it was still enjoyable and even heartwarming seeing you react with the demon. He was glad that you weren’t scared of it, he didn’t want you to be scared of him, or any part of him for that matter. Knowing that you were so willing to interact with Rashomon showed him that you had no fear. He loved seeing the way you were with Rashomon, he found himself not wanting to pull it back. The smile you gave his demon was the same smile you’d give him after he was gone for too long. You loved Rashomon, it was a part of him, and as you promised him at the beginning of your relationship, you would love every part of him no matter what.

#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd request #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #akutagawa ryuunosuke #ryuunosuke akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa headcanons #akutagawa imagines #akutagawa scenarios

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akutagawasbitch · 4 years ago

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Wedding headcanons for Akutagawa please? Female pronouns.

Thank you for this request! I loved writing these, made me all soft. Thank you for being so patient as well, I hope these are what you wanted! <3

Akutagawa isn’t the type to settle down and get married for just anyone so if he’s getting married, it means he is truly in love.

He isn’t too involved with the initial planning of the wedding as he isn’t super bothered by it, he just wants her to have the perfect day.

It’s when she wants to have live doves and ride in on a horse drawn carriage to the beach ceremony, he steps in and puts his foot down. He hates how over the top these ideas are and he hates the sea air because it irritates his lungs so he turns them down point blank.

He suggests going for a cliff top wedding in a remote location due to his occupation, he’d rather keep it lowkey and not attract a lot of unwanted attention

After setting some ground rules like no live animals and nothing flashy, he lets her go wild.

He’s very picky with guests and who is allowed to come since he’s introverted and doesn’t exactly like a lot of people.

He invites all the Black Lizard, Chuuya, Kouyou and Mori

Chuuya is Akutagawa’s best man, he helps Akutagawa choose a suit. He goes for a charcoal grey suit with a black tie. Chuuya wears a red suit with a black tie (he suggested a theme of black ties to Aku which he accepted)

Chuuya also helps Aku stay in line with traditions such as not seeing the bride for 48 hours, he basically drags Aku to his penthouse and keeps him there.

Gin and Higuchi help out his fiancee with her dress fitting etc. (Higuchi cried when she got the wedding invite and was told she was part of the bridal party)

On the actual day of the wedding, Akutagawa is a bundle of nerves. He’s anxiously biting his nails and he’s even more irritable than ever.

His nerves leads to him having doubts if he’s actually good enough which spirals into him panicking and considering calling the wedding off. He calms down after Chuuya talks to him and gives him some wine though

He gets dressed in his suit, leaving his coat behind at Chuuya’s apartment

When he arrives at the venue, he starts to nervously sweat as he walks up the makeshift aisle laid over the grassy cliff top. He is practically pouring sweat until she finally arrives.

He’s tapping his foot anxiously but he freezes when he sees her. He almost starts crying at how beautiful she looks. Instead he breaks into a huge pure smile, his eyes full of love. He doesn’t even notice everyone’s shocked reactions to his smile, all his focus on her.

He cannot hide his genuine happiness when she’s standing next to him. He’s practically emitting an aura of pure joy instead of his normally gloomy aura.

He rushes through the ceremony since he just wants to go home with her but he does have some very sweet but short vows prepared

The reception venue is outside with fairy lights strung up everywhere and candles lighting up the area. A small bar is set up with a pianist playing music softly in the background

At the reception, he’s a little overwhelmed by the amount of people but he has a good time overall. He does stick to her side like glue though and gets grumpy when people compliment her

The first dance is a little awkward but its overall very sweet with him staring into her eyes the entire time (he doesn’t notice her stepping on his feet a couple of times)

He ends up getting a little drunk with Chuuya at the reception bar but he’s doing alot better than Chuuya who’s passed out at the bar

The reception and celebrations end after a few hours, with everyone giving the newlyweds their congratulations once more before leaving.

Akutagawa carries his new wife to the car and heads home with her and the insane amount of wedding presents that everyone gave them (namely Chuuya and Mori)

He gives her a soft kiss as they drive home, happy to finally be able to call himself her husband

Aaaaa thank you again for this request!! It was so fun to write, much love to you anon <3

#bungo stray dogs headcannons #bungou stray dogs headcannons #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #akutagawa ryunosuke hcs #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bungou stray dogs hcs #bungo stray dogs hcs #akutagawa fluff #akutagawa ryunosuke headcanons

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animemangasoul · 4 years ago

Text

5 times Tachihara is shocked by people kissing his co-worker on the cheek and one time he does it himself

Chapter: 5/6 - Akutagawa

“Alright, we have what we need. Everyone clear the building, now.”

Kunikida’s voice sounded calm, but Tachihara could still detect the edge of urgency hidden behind the commanding tone.

“This is bad,” he said, blinking sluggishly up at Gin. “This is really bad.” The other man didn’t so much as spare him a glance; thin arms wrapped tightly around Tachihara’s mid and breath coming out in labored gasps.

The building shook, and Gin had only just enough time to swerve them both out of the path before large slabs of rocks crashed down on where they’d stood a second ago. Tachihara cursed as their bodies slammed against the unstable wall behind them. This was bad, this was really really bad.

“Gin,” he breathed; the gash on his forehead making it hard to see past the blood. “Gin, you ok man?”

A hitched whine was his only reply. Tachihara cursed again. His communicator crackled and suddenly Kunikada’s voice was back. “The bui- coming do... everyone... out?”

Lifting a shaking hand to his ear, he tried his best not to jolt Gin who at this point was the only thing keeping both of them standing. “Sorry dude,” he said; finger pressed against the communicator. “Me and Gin are....” he coughed, feeling something in his chest rattle painfully. “we’re gonna need a little bit more time.”

Shouts everywhere. Mafia members and the agency guys talking over each other and the sheer volume of their voices crashing against each other till whatever was being said only served to give Tachihara a headache.

“Enough!”

He blinked.... Had he said that? It sure didn’t sound like something he would say? But he felt it.... so-

Shaking his head, Tachihara tried to dislodge the fog clogging up his thoughts, but it only made the mild nausea he’d been experiencing ten times worst. ‘Oh God,’ he thought.

“Tachihara.”

“.....”

Tachihara.”

“.....”

“Tachihara!”

…. Was someone... calling him?

A pinch on his left made him yelp and his eyes came up to meet the searching once of Gin. “Wha-” he said, but before anything else left his mouth- the voice from before broke in.

“Tachihara,” a familiar cough. “Can you hear me?”

“I-” he said, blinking in surprise. “Yes, yes. I can hear you Akutagawa-san. I-” Why was it so hard to breath.

“Focus Tachihara. The building is about to explode. Is Gin with you?”

The redhead frowned. Gin... yes, yeah, Gin was with him. He opened his mouth to answer, but.... Why didn’t Gin... looking at his partner he frowned even harder. Couldn’t he just tell... Sure Gin didn’t like talking but... surely this time he... ‘Oh,’ he thought, because were the coms should have been on Gin’s right ear, was now only a red gaping wound.

Shit.

“Yes,” he managed to grit out; eyes still glued on his frie... partner. “Yes, he’s with me. Yes.”

“Good,” came Akutagawa’s voice, the utter relief in his tone surprising Tachihara momentarily. “Stay where you are, I’ll find you.”

“What, no!” It was Kunikida again. “Are you crazy. You won’t make it up there in time. If you go back now-”

“Shut up.” Chills went down Tachihara’s spine and he swallowed thickly. Even in his current addled mind, he knew he’d never heard Akutagawa ever sound so cold and angry before. “I’ll make it. Just get the remaining fools out of here.”

“Akutag-… Damn it.”

“I’ll go with him Kunikida-san!”

Was that the weretiger? Oh boy. Sending Gin a tiny smile, his lips widened even further when similar humor echoed back from his partners eyes. Akutagawa was so not going to like it.

“No, Atsushi. You do not go with him! Get out and secure the data. That’s an order.”

“I’ve already secured the data. I gave it to one of the in-suit mafia members to take outside. Going after Akutagawa now.”

“I swear to God Atsushi-…" But the man most have quickly realized he’d very much lost control of the situation, for he cut himself off mid-sentence and sighed heavily. “Just don’t do anything stupid, kid.”

“Roger that,” came the weretiger’s chipper voice.

By the time the rescue squad conversation had come to an end, Tachihara and Gin were fully leaning against each other, slowly sliding to the ground.

Another rumbling from the building, made Gin take in a wisp of breath. Tachihara closed his eyes and tried to push the nausea back down.

“We might not... we might...” he started, face sculpted into a neutral blankness, but eyes dancing around looking at everything yet nothing. “We could die... today.”

Gin didn’t say anything, only reached around him slowly; one hand still pressing hard against the make-shift bandages around his waist, before he curled his own shaking fingers around his and squeezed.

‘It’s funny,’ Tachihara thought, returning the gesture in the darkness of night. ‘Gin would have been fine if he’d left me. Hell, Akutagawa himself is coming back into danger to save us now. It’s funny. How much we’ve all become so attached...’

Tachihara knew he would have to leave them eventually, but for now... for now he held onto Gin’s warm hand, tried to stay awake, and prayed to God they would live to see another day.

“Akutagawa!”

Tachihara startled awake, head burning as if rods of flames were being drilled into it without mercy. What the... what was going on.

“Oi, stupid Akutagawa!”

“What do you want Jinko!”

Ahh, the rescue... mission.

“I have to bail on you. There are a bunch of civilians here and-”

“I never wanted you to come with me in the first place. So do whatever the hell you want.”

“Mean,” the weretiger huffed, but then after a prolonged pause, his voice broke through the coms again. “You have about two minutes tops,” he said. “.... Stay safe Akutagawa.”

“Whatever.”

Another half a minute or so passed by, and at this point, Gin had started to shake uncontrollably... or was that him? He couldn’t even tell them apart anymore. Were one began and the other ended. Maybe they would die here, today.

“Tachihara!”

“Yes,” he muttered, bleary eyes staring straight ahead at the shattered window in front of him.

“I need you to describe where you are. Anything of note, anything that sticks out to you. Talk!”

The urgency in his superior’s voice was almost too daunting, but Tachihara was a Port Mafia member, he could... this was normal, he was fine. So he started to mumble it out, anything and everything he could see. Even irrelevant things like the rock currently holding the metal bar above their heads.

Suddenly the building shakes again, but this time it’s followed by a resounding explosion, and Tachihara meets Gin’s gaze, and he knows....

“Ryuu,” Gin starts, for the first time, eyes wide and wet. Cheeks flushed. “Ryuu... get out.”

Since when... Had Gin and Akutagawa always been that close? What... Ryuu? And.... why was everything suddenly swimming and-

Gin talked.

Gin never talked

He could count on one hand the number of times Gin talked

…. They were screwed, weren’t they?

“Ryuu, please.”

“Akutagawa’s laboring breaths were almost ringing too loud in their ears now. “No,” the man gasped, his shuffling feet echoing through the coms. “I’m not leaving you to die.”

At this point, Gin had somehow managed to wrangle them both back on their feet, steading him as he tried to push them behind the open door by the corner wall. “It won’t work,” Tachihara said; words barely making it passed his lips before he descended into a coughing fit. “We won’t make it.” But he still followed him when Gin silently urged him forward.

Unfortunately, another explosion went off before they were even half way there, and Tachihara almost lost his footing, taking Gin down with him.

Walls were crumbling around them and slowly but surely, the explosions that had sounded far away only minutes ago were almost right on top of them. It was all over.

But just as that fleeting thought of doom had passed through his mind, the door on the other side of the hall flew open.

“Wha-”

And there he was, Akutagawa-san.

“No,” Gin breathed. “Please no. You can’t be here.” And Tachihara didn’t want to agree with his partner because living was really something he wanted to do, but now, it was over now. There was no time left for Akutagawa-san to get them out of this. So now, what should have been only two deaths, were going to be three.

“Ryuu!”

“Shut up,” Akutagawa barked, marching over to them, each step calculated, calm and no rush in his gait. “I’m not leaving you to die.”

Another ripple went through the now very unstable building, and Tachihara found himself holding his breath until the shaking subsided. Akutagawa-san had almost closed the distance between them when Gin stiffened. Going completely rigged.

They were out of time.

“Get down,” Tachihara screamed at the black-haired male as he tried his best to shield Gin with his own body, but before either he or Gin could move, Akutagawa leaped towards them, his arms outstretched, and with the most determined look on his face, he yanked forward, his skinny hands coming up to circle around their heads and shoving their faces forcefully into his chest.

“Akutagawa-san?” Tachihara asked, exhaustion and confusion coloring his tone, because how the hell was this supposed to do anything? Maybe his boss just wanted one last hug before it was all over. Gin most have been on a similar wavelength because he tightened his grip and brought both him and Akutagawa even closer.

“You should have left,” he muttered, but Akutagawa only huffed at the both of them.

“Rashomon!” he called out and just as his coat flared up, so did the last explosives and the world crumbled. As darkness settled all around them, black seeping into every corner till the air itself felt stagnated, Hirotsu’s shout of despair from their coms was the last Tachihara heard before everything stopped.

Silence descended around them, the muffled explosions and Akutagawa’s labored breaths the only sound surrounding them. “Ryuu?”

“Quiet,” Akutagawa said; his lips almost brushing up against Tachihara’s cheek. “I need to... concentrate.”

And.... wow.

A building was blowing up all around them, and here he stood, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, the Port Mafia’s dog, risking his life for them. Using his ability to keep them alive in the midst of this hell.

The vibration from whatever was exploding around Rashomon, suddenly amplified, and Akutagawa let out a pained groan.

And since when could Rashomon do this? How long had Akutagawa-san known how to shield people? Wha-…. ‘Focus,’ Tachihara told himself, one hand clutching at his side, while the other rested loosely around Akutagawa. ‘You’re a Port Mafia member, but also a Hunting Dog. Focus.’ Tightening his grip around his superior, he breathed in and out, slowly, calmly.

He could do this.

Stretching out his mind as much as it would let him in his current state, he focused on the outside. Outside this tiny safe cocoon, outside Akutagawa-san's embrace. Outside, were a building was collapsing around them.

Activating his ability, he closed his eyes shut and forced whatever strength he had left in him to push away as much metal objects from Rashomon as he could. It wasn’t much, not how he was faring currently, not with the building collapsing. But it took some weight of Akutagawa’s shoulders, and for now, that was enough.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever. Pressed up against Akutagawa, him and Gin are silent as mice as their superior is fighting tooth and nail to keep them alive. Tachihara doesn’t know when he slips into unconsciousness or for how long, but when the real world starts calling out to him again, he fights to open his eyes and-

“Akuta..gawa-san?” he said; blinking up at the man leaning over him with a hand outstretched to rest against his cheek. “What ha...ppened?” He leans into the touch, not fully aware of what he’s doing and later would be surprised that his boss had essentially let him cuddle into his hand. But for now-

“We’re buried underground,” Akutagawa said, eyes searching. “The idiots up there are working to get us out, and Chuuya-san is on his way back, so hopefully his arrival will speed things up.”

“So we...” his breath hitches and he finds his vision blurring. “We survived?”

Akutagawa nods.

“Oh,” Tachihara blinks. “That’s good.” Looking passed the other man, he lets his gaze wander until they finally rest on Gin. Gin who is laying by a pile of rock not too far away; Akutagawa’s coat folded up to serve as a pillow.

“Is he-” he started. But just as he’d opened his mouth to ask, a quiet groan came from the still figure on the ground, and in a split-second Akutagawa was across the room and kneeling next to him.

“Gin,” he said, voice strangely soft despite the raspiness. “Gin, you with me?”

“Nii-san?”

Tachihara gaped, say what?

“Yes,” Akutagawa coughed; pressing one hand across his mouth, while the other came down to gently stroke Gin’s hair. “I’m here and you’re ok. We’re all ok.”

“Nii-san?”

Akutagawa hummed.

Gin who’d been staring at nothing but the caved in roof the minute he’d woken up, finally turned ever so slightly to look at what apparently was, his brother. “Thank you,” he said, words as soft as always. “Thank you... for saving us.”

Akutagawa’s hand stilled, and he frowned down at him. “Next time,” he said. “Call for help.”

Gin nodded, a tiny smile playing across his mouth, and... Akutatagawa-san, in a very uncharacteristic display of affection, suddenly leaned down and brushed lips over his cheek, lingering for just a second too long before shuffling away.

Tachihara stared. Stomach turning at the sight.

‘Oh,’ he thought. ‘Brother. I knew Gin had a brother, but... Akutagawa?’

Oh.

Cold, uncaring, violent, dangerous Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke who ran into an exploding building, not to save his employees, but to save Gin. Akutagawa who never cared about anyone or anything but obviously seemed to Love Gin.

Oh.

Tachihara couldn’t, try as he might, to move his eyes away from the pair. Gin had somehow found the strength to reach out then to grab a hold of Akutagawa’s wrist, and the black-haired man had let him, hadn’t even contemplated shaking him off.

Suddenly Tachihara had an overwhelming urge to just get out of there. Leave all these... emotions, leave everything behind and just... Go back to his job. To the government and forget everything. He...

A flash of a smile danced through his mind and it was all Tachihara could do not to break down into tears.

‘He is dead,’ he told himself harshly, swallowing down any and all emotions. ‘He is dead, and he isn’t coming back. My brother is dead.’

When Chuuya-san eventually found them; screaming at both the agency and the port mafia for being idiots and useless, Tachihara had calmed down enough to put on a bright smile and declare Chuuya his favorite human being ever. The shorter man grinned and cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t I know it,” he said, as doctors rushed in, packing him up to be hauled out.

Akutagawa on the other hand, seemed to refuse to let anyone near Gin, telling the medical staff curtly that he would bring Gin up himself and to not get in his way.

There as he was being wheeled off on a bed, Tachihara watched as Akutagawa leaned down to gently pick up his sibling. Face strangely content and mouth moving as if he was chatting away with the quiet assassin.

And wasn’t that strange. Akutagawa, going out of his way to talk to someone.

‘I guess they are very much alike,’ Tachihara thought; watching as Chuuya-san sidled up to the two in order to coerce Akutagawa into handing Gin over. ‘No wonder they are related.’

To be continued.....

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

#bungou stray dogs #bsd fanfic #tachihara michizou #Ryunosuke Akutagawa #akutagawa gin #bsd #bungou stray dogs fanfic

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sanjuno · 7 years ago

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I got this idea from playing lego jurasic world/park: Uchiha with raptors. I can't decide if they would be them, have an understanding with ech other cause kids/babies are precoius and need protection, or work together. I just really like all of them

Eee! Yes! Raptor squad shenanigans!

Freaky Friday Prompt Fill #1/13

Sitting in the Naka Shrine in the centre of the ritual circle used by countless Uchiha who wanted to forge a summoning contract, Madara cut his fingers with deliberate care. Moving his hands through the signs, Madara let the chakra build and flare up as he pressed bloody palms to the ground. “Kuchiyose no jutsu!”

The smoke that signalled a successful first contact billowed up from under his hands, and Madara was left blinking at the large egg he cradled in his palms. Ah, so it was going to be one of those challenges.

/…/

A month later, Madara beamed down at the hissing bundle of feathers and teeth that clung to his fingers with comically oversized claws. “I’m going to call you Aoi.”

The tiny baby raptor just gaped and shrilled a demand for more food.

“Beautiful girl, look at you.” Crooning lovestruck nonsense, Madara dropped the bloody chunk of meat into razor-lined maw. “Such a cute little darling.”

Head in his hands, Taijima wondered if he should be proud or despairing that his son had such a good relationship with his first summons animal. On one hand, succeeding at first making contact and then successfully completing the worthiness challenge meant that Madara would have stalwart allies in the future. Plus, the stronger the bond between summoner and summon was, the more powerful the animals became. On the other hand… Madara had a contract with the raptors. By all the gods, Taijima could only hope that Madara only ever had need for the hawks.

The horror stories from when Taijima’s grandmother had summoned the Boss Raptor still circulated around the Uchiha’s fireside storytellings. They were lucky that the raptors were a summon that exclusively answered the call of the Uchiha, and that the appearance of the Raptor Boss had been passed off as a Bijuu rampage.

Madara was going to be an absolute terror when he grew up.

/…/

Uchiha Izuna hit the ground, blood pouring from the fatal wound running through a significant number of his vital organs. Senju Tobirama had about three seconds to congratulate himself on his victory before he was blindsided by a hurricane of black fire and screaming rage. “I’LL KILL YOU!”

‘This.’ Tobirama realized with something akin to numb horror. ‘Is why Anija always fights Madara one on one.’

The only thing that kept Tobirama’s head attached to his shoulders was the teleportation jutsu that had brought him inside Izuna’s guard in the first place. Now it flashed him out of Madara’s range, and Tobirama scrambled to put more distance between them.

“No!” Hashirama hit Madara at full speed, and as the titans clashed the wider battle was halted in its tracks as each Clan withdrew to their own sides. Wood and flame climbed higher, spectral bones and nurturing earth clashing like a war between the gods of life and death. The pressure of their combined killing intent knocked most of the spectators off their feet, and Tobirama stubbornly locked his knees. It took effort to remain upright, they could not have continued their battle even if they had the will. “I’ll heal him! Madara, let me heal him!”

“How dare you!” Madara howled, done holding back, striking to kill and Hashirama could only match him. Only match him. Heart in his throat, Tobirama wondered if this was the day he watched his last remaining brother die. It would be his fault. It would be Tobirama’s fault because it was obvious that Hashirama and Madara had only been clashing for the sake of duty to their Clans before this. Now, Madara had a personal reason to hate the Senju, more than just the history of battle between their Clans. “You swore an oath to me! You swore!”

“And I meant it! Let me keep my oath!” Hashirama lunged forward, not to harm Madara, but to hold him. Hands over Madara’s hands where they clung to the gunbai, Hashirama begged with his words and his tone and every inch of his face. “Please, Madara! Let me keep my oath. Let me heal Izuna!”

Enraged beyond words, Madara screamed, tossing his hair back and staring into Hashirama’s eyes with a sharingan that spun too fast to see the pattern. The stare held for a heartbeat that lasted a lifetime, then the pressure crushing them all into the dirt eased away. Madara stepped back, Hashirama released his desperate grip, and Tobirama could only watched as his brother walked into the crowd of Uchiha. Weaponless, shedding armour even as he moved, hands glowing green with healing chakra that he pressed to Uchiha Izuna’s bloodied middle.

Once assured that Izuna would live, Hashirama stood up and faced Madara.

“Please.” The leader of the Senju Clan said only loud enough for his old friend to hear. “Please, don’t let this happen again. Make peace with me, Madara. Help me bring our dream to life.”

Ripping his eyes away from his little brother’s too-pale face, Madara turned to look at Hashirama.

“If you betray me, Hashirama, you will not live to see the next sunrise.” That said, Madara held out his hand to his childhood friend. “The official papers will have to wait, Hashirama, but as long as you keep a leash on your little brother, we have an accord.”

Beaming and all but breathless with relief, Hashirama clasped Madara’s hand, and the first step towards peace was taken.

/…/

“The Kyuubi can’t be killed!” Mito shouted over the roar of the approaching demon. “We need to find what’s driving it this way and get rid of it!”

“Do that!” Madara, slashed a hand through the air. “Izuna, go with them! Tobirama’s with me. Everyone else, fall back!”

“What about back up?” Hashirama hesitated, Mito and Izuna next to him.

“I don’t need backup.” Madara snarled, swiping both hands through the blood leaking from the gash on his arm and slamming them down. “Kuchiyose no Jutsu!”

“Time to go. Nownownow.” Izuna grabbed Mito and Hashirama by the arms and hauled them along as the smoke billowed up. “Try not to get eaten before we get back, Senju!”

One hand on Madara’s shoulder, Tobirama barely held back the curses that wanted to escape as they rose up through the smoke. Giant hawks swept in, plucking shinobi from the ground and winging away back towards the Village. On the ground feathered crests in a multitude of colours were lifting in challenge, hissing chatter escaping fanged muzzles.

“Madara-chan.” Under Tobirama’s feet, a massive white head lifted, and a massive voice rumbled out like the crash of falling mountains. “You have not called on me before, child. What drives you to do so now?”

“Aku o saku-sama, Queen of Raptors.” Madara smiled and Tobirama bit his own tongue to keep silent. Whatever these creatures were, they were as different from Madara’s hawks as a shark was to a goldfish. The Uchiha stood and gestured to the approaching Kyuubi. “My nest and hatchlings are threatened. I would beg your assistance in hunting down my enemy.”

“A hunt worthy of me.” The white feathers rippled, spreading out and turning red in a brazen threat display. “How exciting!”

“It’s a hunt!” Feathers edged in crystal blue, a comparatively smaller raptor cackled from down below. Tobirama stared at the teeth, and the sickle claw that explained a lot about Madara’s fondness for the kusarigama when the gunbai was impractical, and wondered with hysterical calm why Madara had never summoned these demons on the Senju while they were at war. “We get to hunt with Madara-sama!”

“Eyes on me, ladies.” Madara smiled as the attention of every predatory gaze landed on him. Tobirama tried very hard not to look like prey. “You see the big fox over there? Go get it.”

Shrieking with glee, the smaller raptors lunged forward to disappear into the underbrush. Aku o Saku rumbled in amusement, then she herself began moving and a wall of wind almost smashed Tobirama from his perch.

“Don’t eat anyone I don’t tell you to!” Madara shouted after them, grinning like a madman as he held tight to white feathers. “That’s my kill!”

“Stingy!” A green one shrieked before swerving away to take her place in the vanguard.

/…/

Izuna watched the red eyed white demon that was his elder brother’s Boss Summon clash with the Kyuubi no Youko and winced. “Ah, we’d better hurry before someone gets eaten.”

Mito turned her shocked stare away from the scene and onto Izuna. “Is that a concern?”

“Just…” Izuna hesitated and look warily down at the underbrush. “Just try to stay as high up as possible. Raptors really like ambushes.”

Hashirama blinked and tilted his head to one side. “… do birds usually have teeth?”

Izuna’s face was blank as he stared at Hashirama. “These ones do.”

“Huh. No wonder Madara wins all our bets.” Hashirama mused as they started moving again. “That’s an awful lot of hen’s teeth.”

=/=

… Hashirama, honey, no. That’s not the impression you’re supposed to be taking away from this.

#Sanjuno's ficwork #Naruto fanfic #Uchiha with raptors #all the raptors #Uchiha Madara #Senju Hashirama #uchiha izuna #Senju Tobirama #Uzumaki Mito #Raptor squad goes au #Freaky Friday AUs

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strawberista · 3 years ago

Text

{Drabble thing for Aku and Hanekoma dynamic.}

— ★ ★ ★ —

Hanekoma blinked as he looked down at his patron, concern nestling in the middle of his brow, "Aku... Are you taking pills with coffee?"

She turned her eyes up to meet his, raising a brow to him, "Um... Yes?"

Seriously...? Sometimes she seemed totally in control of her life, but the more he got to know her, the more obvious it was that she was just a thin bundle of chaotic nerves underneath a fragile veneer of composure.

Hanekoma sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "Listen, boss, I might be a barista, but your health is important."

She furrowed her brow, "Yeah? That's why I'm taking medicine?"

He sighed. She could be so stubborn sometimes...

Hanekoma left her a moment, and Aku sat in blank confusion until he returned, offering her simply a deadpan glare. There was a moment of silence before Hanekoma placed a bottled water down in front of her, using just a little more force than necessary.

"Aku," he huffed. "Drink some water."

She was still for several seconds longer, just staring up at him with doe-eyed shock. Hanekoma held her gaze in stubborn silence until she picked up the water and took a long sip. Aku sat the bottle down after a moment and bit her lip, expression reading something similar to guilt, though... Hanekoma could never really be sure with her.

"Is that... Better?"

He nodded and reached out to rough her hat over her head, "Yeah. Listen, you're not in trouble, Aku. I just need ya to behave an' take care of yourself, okay?"

She lowered her head, hiding what he assumed to be her embarrassment under the brim of her hat, "Don't... Say that..."

"I mean it, though," Hanekoma replied, pulling away from her. "You worry me to death sometimes. I needja to really watch your health an' make sure you're getting what you need, not just slippin' through life on the bare minimum. Ya dig? Please jus' be good, Sweet Tooth."

Aku suddenly slammed the flat of her palm against the counter and shot up onto her feet, gritting her teeth as she glared up at Hanekoma, "Shut up! Oh my god, shut up!"

Hanekoma flinched back from the sudden outburst and stared stunned as she snatched up the bottle of water and turned to rush out of the café in a huff. The noise outside swarmed around her from the first step she took out of the door, but she pushed right through them as if she couldn't see them. He didn't understand it. Aku was such a mild-natured individual. She was a million times more likely to get scared and cry during an interaction than she was to get angry, much less lash out. He had never seen her behave that way before.

One of these days... As much as he hated to say it... He was just going to have to bite the bullet and scan her.

He lifted his cup of coffee to his lips and narrowed his eyes, "What the hell was that...?"

— ★ ★ ★ —

#fic #mystical-strawberry-sheep #anonymity annoying me ⤙ooc⤚⚄

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treasuremonkey · 4 years ago

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i feel bad for remembering that one week of trial job, especially the last two days of it. everyday i walked into the office with anxiety, stomach ache, and the feeling of wanting to throw up. on the fourth day, i just wished for someone to... like... idk, robbed me, then stab me. i wouldn't be surprised if that actually happened tbh. but of course it would be unlikely lol. also i have to cross very busy road before reaching the office. of course, i makesure the road is safe for me to cross. but i kinda wish that i got hit or something. every day i went home after "work", i was convincing myself to pull it together; "don't worry it, just do it."

anyways, so the last two days were friday and saturday. on friday, i eat a little for breakfast, went to work and stay in my car for like 15 minutes before going out. work as usual, was finishing this design i couldn't do and think too much because my mind was just blank. went home for lunch, eating just a little because Ya Allah sumpah masa tu aku tak ada selera; sakit perut & rasa nak muntah memanjang. sumpah. went back to work, got shit on, literally. since i was blank i couldn't take in the comments too much. clockout, went to McDonald's to treat myself (since it was Friday) and went home.

and so we arrived on Saturday. literally drinks only 1/4 of coffee for breakfast and went to work. and since i was so 'eager' to finish work, i skipped lunch altogether and didn't refill my water bottle. I didn't drink any water from 1:30 pm until 5:45 pm. i clock out little late because i need to finish this drawing on Autocad. for fuck's sake 2007 AUTOCAD WTF. JUST DOWNLOAD THE RECENT ONE ILLEGALLY LA. guna software yg 10 tahun lepas dah. Ya Allah.

after clocking out... of course i stayed in my car for a reaaaalllyyy long time, staring into the void. the anxiety really makes you immune to hunger lol. but i really need to eat since u hadn't eat anything yet for the day. went to McDonald's again, got some mocha frappe and ayam goreng McD. see really unhealthy. well as long as it made me feel good, I don't mind. had breakfast, lunch & dinner in one meal and cleaned myself at 8:30 pm.

throughout the week i feel like my soul didn't even leave my house. i feel like a zombie going to work. working in a environment like this honestly does not make me feel welcomed.

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 8 years ago

Note

how about a scenario with akutagawa and a stressed s/o??

Characters: Akutagawa Ryunosuke

Pairing: Akutagawa/Reader

Genre: fluff

Buy me a coffee?

Whoever told you that adult life was a blast was lying. Everyone who told you that your life would be amazing once you grew up and found independence was doing nothing but lying to you. Adulthood was filled with an endless amount of work and repetitive, unfulfilling actions. You’d keep convincing yourself that one day you will find what it was that you wanted, but deep down – you knew you were never going to get it. Nothing was going to fulfill you, not your job, not your home, not even your boyfriend.

Akutagawa wasn’t the best at recognizing stress. He could barely even recognize it in himself. Often, he would work himself until he literally collapsed from stress or until you forced him to stay home. So when you were in his shoes, you didn’t have that someone to pull you back from overworking yourself.

“_____.”

You vaguely heard someone calling your name. Your focus was completely taken over by your computer screen as you frantically typed away. You don’t know how long you had been sitting at your desk or when the last time that you looked away was.

“_____!” Akutagawa yelled your name, ripping your attention from the screen to him.

“What?!” you yelled back, turning at him with a frustrated and slightly crazed look in your eyes.

When you saw his confusion at your sudden aggression, you sighed. “I’m sorry, I just-“

If stressed described you, then defensive described Akutagawa. He scowled at you as he threw a paper bag onto the bed behind you. “Never mind, call me when you decide to stop being dramatic.”

You felt the sting of his words as he walked out of the room. Now that your attention has been pulled away from the computer screen, you couldn’t seem to zone back in. Your eyes shifted over to the bag that he had dropped off and when the scent of the contents inside hit your nostrils, your heart dropped.

Akutagawa wasn’t good at recognizing your stress, but when he did, he usually brought you the one thing that could always help you through it.

When you first met Akutagawa, you were at one of the mafia-friendly cafes, chowing down on a bowl of spicy ramen. After you two started dating, he had noticed that you tended to have that in mass amounts whenever things weren’t quite going your way.

You gulped down your guilt as you slowly opened the bag and held the container of food in your hands. He had gone out of his way to get you the one thing that’d help you through this difficult time and you yelled at him.

Sighing, you set down the container on your desk and rushed after Akutagawa.

Sure, he shouldn’t have called you dramatic, but you also shouldn’t have yelled at him. Neither of you were known for being level-headed.

When you rushed out into the living room, you found Akutagawa lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression. Resisting the urge to make fun of him for being odd, you called out for him.

“Aku…”

He lifted his head up and looked at you. “You done?”

You pursed your lips, getting irritated with him again. “I was working…You should’ve waited, you know that I hate getting distracted…”

Akutagawa’s face got increasingingly irritated as you talked.

“But,” you said before he could retaliate, “you did go out of your way to bring me my comfort food. So…Thank you. And sorry.”

Akutagawa’s features softened as you approached him. He sat up and pulled you in towards him, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m sorry for calling you dramatic,” he whispered at you.

You smiled at him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips against his.

A mischievous look appeared on your features as an idea popped into your mind.

“You know…”

You gently glided your fingers down his chest towards his waist.

“I think I know a pretty good way to destress.”

#Anonymous #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs scenario #bsd #bsd scenario #ryunosuke akutagawa #akutagawa ryunosuke #akutagawa scenario #akutagawa fluff #akutagawa x reader

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animationnut · 8 years ago

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In a Name

Summary: After years in a future under Aku's rule, Jack has forgotten his real name. When his parents remind him, he is suddenly torn. Yasu was the person he used to be, and Jack was the one who traversed a future ruled by Aku. They were two names for one person, but yet they felt like completely different beings.

Their son no longer knew his name.

This discovery by the Emperor and Empress came a few days after the defeat of Aku. They had their happy reunion with tight embraces and joyful tears, and were introduced to the slightly shy young woman by his side. They were surprised, of course, because to them he left for his confrontation only a matter of minutes ago. They freed their people from Aku's chains and, when they were certain no one was in need of urgent care, did they hear the whole story.

For hours they listened as their son spoke his tale, weaving a picture of a desolate and terrifying future under Aku's iron-fisted rule. His expressions would shift, depending on which point of the story he was telling. When he told them of a vastly intelligent dog named Sir Rothchild and his canine companions, there was a smile on his lips. When he spoke of his meeting with a brave warrior named the Scotsman, there was fondness glimmering in his eyes and a soft solmness to his voice. When he spoke of the destruction of villages and cities and their inhabitants, a shadow of mourning crossed over his features.

The Empress felt her heart break as the stories went on, seeming to be never-ending. The Emperor sat beside her, posture stiff and expression grim. They had both known that their son would face immeasurable evil when Aku returned--but they could never have imagined this. For over fifty years, their son had been away from them, trapped in a world wrought with horrors and death, forced to witness tragedies day by day, his hope and determination dwindling as he was overwhelmed with darkness.

Ashi was listening to these tales with rapt attention, and any questions they had about her place in their son's life were answered when Jack reached the end of his saga. With a warm, affectionate smile, he laced his fingers with hers as he explained how they met. It was quite a shock, to learn that this girl was a daughter of Aku, and Ashi turned her head slightly to avoid looking directly into their eyes, her shame and embarrassment clear.

The Empress took the girl's hand and squeezed. "You did not choose to be his child, nor the destiny that was forced upon you."

"You made your own choices, picked your own path, and your decision to travel the road of good and righteousness means you were never what Aku wanted you to be, and you never would be," agreed the Emperor.

The apprehensive tension lifted from Ashi's shoulders and she beamed at them, grateful and relieved they did not shun her for a heritage she could not control. Their son smiled at Ashi, and his parents could see that after all he had endured, he had finally found true happiness.

It was a day or two later when they began the monumental project of reconstructing their village. The fields and landscape were dry and blackened, and all their homes crushed and splintered from Aku's reign. The Empress helped with restoring the flower fields. There were quite a few boulders that needed to be removed, and she noticed her son travelling up the trodden dirt path with a wooden cart of supplies.

"Yasu!" she called.

When he did not respond, she assumed he did not hear her. Sh tried again, but he son still did not ackwledge her.

"Jack!"

His head turned instantly and Ashi hurried up to him. They had a brief conversation before Ashi turned away, having received the answer she needed. The Empress stared at her son for a moment, expression puzzled.

"Jack?" she tried.

He looked automatically in her direction. "Yes, Mother?"

The Empress did not know the origin of this name her son had apparently adopted, but did not breach the subject. It was later, when they were eating supper, that the Empress whispered to her husband what had occurred. Brow furrowing, the Emperor glanced directly at his son and said, "Yasu?"

He did not look up from his bowl, though Ashi lifted her head and blinked in confusion. The Emperor and Empress exchanged glances. "Jack," the Emperor spoke.

Jack regarded his father, smile falling slightly at the troubled expression on his face. "What is wrong?" he asked in concern.

"Do you remember your name?" asked the Emperor carefully.

For a moment, Jack did not understand the question. He opened his mouth to answer, to say that of course he remembered his name, when realization suddenly struck him and he froze.

No. Jack wasn't his real name. Not the one he was born with. His name was...

He struggled to remember, but fifty years of being Samurai Jack drew up a blank space in his memory.

"Yasu," said the Empress gently. "Your name is Yasu."

"Jack's not your real anme?" asked Ashi in surprise.

"No...it isn't, but I had forgotten...I had thought..." Jack trailed off, brow creased, and Ashi set a hand against his shoulder. It brought comfort to his conflicting emotions and he rested his hand overtop hers, managing a small smile. Turning to his parents, he said, "I am sorry."

"You do not need to apologize," returned the Emperor.

"We did not mean to upset you," added the Empress, worried by the distant look that appeared in her son's eyes.

"No, no, it is fine. Thank you, for reminding me of my name. Yasu."

But as the name fell from his lips, it seemed unnatural and foreign, as if he were speaking the name of someone he did not know very well.

...

The dark sky stretched above him, glittering with silver stars. Jack rested his hands against the red railing of the balcony, tracing his thumb against the grain of the wood. He heard footsteps fall in his direction, and soon his father joined him. He did not speak, and after a long moment of silence, Jack let out a troubled sigh.

"I cannot believe I forgot my own name."

"You've been away for decades. You went through a great deal of trauma. There are some aspects of yourself that you have lost along the way. There's no shame in that."

"But my name? The one you and mother gave me, the one you put thought and meaning into?" Jack's fingers tightened against the railing. "You named me Yasu because it held significance to you. And I forgot it. It is disrespectful."

The Emperor regarded his son. "Tell me. Why did you choose to call yourself Jack?"

"When I landed in the future, I was lost. I was in a world strange and unfamiliar to me, and populated with beings that seemed to have come from the wildest of dreams. I felt I did not belong. There were these three robots--my first interaction of Aku's future. They called me Jack. Then, when Sir Rothchild asked me for my name, that was all I could think of. Not Yasu. Yasu did not belong in that world. But Jack...Jack could adjust and adapt, more so than Aku would have ever believed." Jack rubbed a hand down his face and said, "I am not making sense."

"No, you make perfect sense. Who you were then would not have been enough for the trials you needed to face in Aku's future. It was more than you, so you had to become more. You did that by becoming Jack."

"Over time...I was so focussed on my goal, on my purpose, that such a seemingly small detail disappeared from my memory. Now that I'm home, back in the past, I should be Yasu again." Jack shifted his gaze towards the sky. "But Yasu...Yasu was the child before Aku reappeared and everything changed. Yasu was the person who trained all over the world, having no idea what was truly ahead. But after I'll I've been through...I feel like Yasu, the me that existed before I first faced Aku, is a different person."

"You have always been yourself--you just evolved over the years. Seeing the horrors that you have seen, of course your view of the world was influenced, morphed and changed. But your soul, the core of your being, has not."

"I know who I am. I know my purpose has been fulfilled, and I can enjoy my life, with you, Mother and Ashi. It does not matter what I call myself."

The Emperor smiled knowingly. "But it does. To you."

"Everyone in the future, they knew me as Samurai Jack. The Scotsman, my friends...for fifty years, they never lost faith in me. The ancestors of my friends believed in me. No matter how much death and destruction Aku caused, they never lost hope. They put their dreams and very existences on my shoulders. And when Aku captured me, they came to my rescue, even though they knew there was a chance they would not survive. They did not know Yasu, but they knew Jack. There are many aspects of Aku's future that I wish to forget. But not them. To be Jack feels like a tether to them, a tribute to their bravery and their selflessness."

Jack halted his speech as an emotional lump grew in his throat, choking his words. "I never got the chance to thank them. To say goodbye."

The Emperor placed a hand against his back, a comforting pressure. "From what you have told me, the allies and comrades you made have always known what you were striving for. By defeating Aku, you gave them a much happier future."

"I know."

"As I said before, you have always been you, even if you doubted that over the years. And a name, a name does not define you. So whoever you choose to be--Yasu or Jack-will not change you."

The Emperor paused and glanced over his shoulder. A smile crossed his lips and he said, "I believe Ashi would like to speak with you."

Jack turned as Ashi stepped onto the balcony, red kimono swishing against the floor, a sheepish expression on her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop--"

"It is fine. It is time for me to retire to bed, anyway. I am not as young as I used to be."

"Thank you, Father," said Jack gratefully.

"Of course, son."

The Emperor gave Ashi's shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he passed. Ashi smiled at him and joined Jack by the railing. "I'm sorry..."

Jack looked at her in surprise. "For what?"

"I never even thought...I should have let you say goodbye to your friends. I shouldn't have just taken you away like that," said Ashi regretfully.

Jack wrapped an arm over her shoulder, bringing her close. "No, you did the right thing. As much as I would have liked the opportunity, Aku would not have let me get a word out. Getting back to the past when we did saved their lives. Father is right. I am happy knowing that, one day, they will lead peaceful lives."

Ashi leaned her head against his shoulder, curling her arms around his waist. "I think Yasu is a beautiful name, as is Jack. I think they both fit you. But what would you like me to call you?" she asked softly.

Jack thought for a moment. He thought of his innocent eight-year-old self, running through the fields chasing crickets. He thought of his time spent training in the deserts of Egypt and the wilds of Africa, when he knew he needed to face a great threat but did not quite know what. He thought of his years spent in the now-defunct future of Aku, of the experiences that made him stronger, of the friends that showed him that evil could never extinguish hope or righteousness.

His father was right. A name did not define a person. But there was meaning behind a name, and he had chosen his without ever really realizing it.

"I am Jack," he said with conviction, and he swore he could hear the Scotsman's laugh, could picture his amusement at how seriously he was taking this matter. A smile spread across his face, and the stars suddenly seemed to shine brighter. "Samurai Jack."

#samurai jack #samurai jack fanfiction #samurai jack spoilers #byanimationnut #ashi #the scotsman

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fictrashheap · 8 years ago

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Dancing with the Devil

Sometimes good by itself cannot defeat darkness. And sometimes it is necessary to fight evil with evil in order to save the world. Jack discovers this and more in his tenuous alliance with Aku.

Chapter 21

The sky cleared as the morning wore on. Sunlight caught on the ruined fortress walls. Shadows filled bowls in the rock that weren’t natural. Wisps of snow glided down the slope, whispered past Jack and Aku’s feet. Jack readjusted his grip on Aku and continued forward. The demon no longer kept up the pretense of walking on his own. He limped like his knees refused to bend, but didn’t complain. The silence told Jack how serious it was.

With each step, the scarf around Aku’s neck loosened. But the sudden rush of cold air caught him off guard. It unraveled like a dead snake and fell to the ground. Jack stopped so he was forced to stop, too. The only sound came from the occasional flutter of their clothes.

Jack supported him with one hand and reached down for the scarf. But before he could touch it, the scarf withered into a papery black strip. It suddenly disintegrated into dust like someone had left a pile of ashes in the snow.

“Do not look so shocked.” Aku watched the dust drift off in the breeze. “It is only a small piece.”

“My finger is small, but I would still miss it.”

“That is not the only small thing you would miss.”

“Wh….” Jack jerked upright, face red. “Did you…?” He turned away, then looked back at Aku. “That is rude and…and it is not small.”

The demon laughed. “Poor samurai.”

“You are trying to distract me.” Jack rubbed his face, which was still red, and composed himself. “If you cannot go further….”

“Bah!” Aku lifted his chin. “Are we in a hurry or are we not?”

Jack’s calloused fingers lightly grazed his jaw and tilted his head so their faces aligned. Lips pressed against Aku’s and dispelled any discomfort from the cold, now unimpeded by any protective demon aura.

Aku inhaled deeply as he pulled away. "Gods flay your miserable hide, samurai.”

Jack didn’t bat an eye. He took one of Aku’s fists and held it against his chest. “This is but a taste of what you have done to this world.”

“Do not presume to lecture me.”

“It is simply fact. Would you deny it?”

Aku curled his lip, but didn’t answer.

The samurai leaned in until no space remained between them. It took Aku longer to pull away than last time. The effect of each touch felt cumulative. No doubt a byproduct of their connection. He stared at his amputated flesh. Little remained but a dark stain on the snowdrift.

Jack followed the direction of his gaze. “We should go.”

“Yes.” Aku looked at the broken fortress walls. “Let us stop wasting time.”

He squared his shoulders and started up the path. Snow shifted under his feet and he wobbled ever so slightly. Jack wrapped an arm around his shoulders again and helped him forward. Aku leaned on him and fell into step without comment.

They passed beneath a magnificent frosted arch. The stone cracked from years of thawing and freezing, but it held. Large icicles hung like teeth in an open mouth. Jack looked up at them warily, but the cold had turned the ice into granite. Even in sunlight, the ice didn’t soften. They stepped into a square courtyard littered with broken walls and the last remnants of rotten wood. A pile of stones lay at the center. Birdsong faintly echoed all around them.

Jack tensed as he stepped gingerly onto the packed earth. It felt solid even after so much neglect and weathering. Something resonated here. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it hummed in his body. This place had awareness. And power.

Dagaz and Deirdre stood by the ruined stones. They watched Jack and Aku hobble inside. Dagaz shook his head and spat into the snow. Deirdre remained motionless, her eyes hidden beneath her helmet.

Aku raised his head like he had scented prey.

“Where are the trees?” Jack stopped near the stones. “Are they inside?”

Dagaz and Dierdre exchanged a look, but it was Deirdre who answered.

“This isn’t a natural thing.” She hesitated a moment and glanced at her husband. “The druids believed trees held special powers. Old tunnels run under our feet. Dug long before the Romans came. That’s where the Forest King died. Something down there seethes over it.”

“We can’t go any further,” Dagaz said abruptly. “The way’s closed to us, but we’ll guard your back.”

“I understand. Thank you both for all of your assistance.” Jack bowed his head.

“The earth has a long memory, lad.” Deirdre clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Do us a favor and don’t die.”

Dagaz looked at Aku longer than was polite, then back at Jack. “You should’ve listened to me. That one will be like a beacon fire down there.”

“I understand.”

Jack approached the square’s center and kept himself between Aku and Dagaz. “How do we enter such a place?”

Deirdre pursed her lips. “There’s a hidden entrance. Whatever grows down there isn’t forgiving. You’ll need a torch or the hate of that place will eat you up.”

“Here.” Dagaz walked up to a particularly ornate arch. “This is where you need to go.”

A weathered soldier had been carved into the wall. Hard eyes gazed from the past. A thick slab of marble sat at his feet. It looked rosy. Certainly not native to this part of the world. It must have been imported. A testament to the reach of a long dead empire. Everything looked smooth and solid. Jack looked to Dagaz for an explanation, but the Celt stared at Aku. Whatever thoughts he had, he kept to himself.

Something wasn’t quite right. The stone wasn’t quite stone. Jack knew magic when he saw it. He spoke, if only to break the tension.

“There is a spell here. Should such a thing be disturbed?”

“No need to be breaking anything.” Deirdre pinned her husband with a look. “Dagaz knows the words.”

Aku narrowed his eyes. "Only demons know such things."

Dagaz snorted. "Aye and such fine help you've been.”

The demon scowled, but sagged against Jack instead of arguing. Deirdre put a hand on Dagaz’s shoulder and his body lost some tension. He glared at Aku a moment more, then faced the stone soldier and spoke.

Dagaz had a guttural voice, but the words that emerged from his mouth were like whispers. Like several voices that spoke quietly out of sync. Jack struggled to identify any familiar syllables, but it slipped past him like polluted water. Aku went rigid. Jack looked at him, but his gaze was fixed on Dagaz. His eyes tracked movement. Something Jack couldn’t see.

The soldier shattered. Jack ducked instinctively and threw up an arm to protect his eyes. Rock tore at his exposed skin. The ground buckled beneath his feet.

Aku’s lips brushed his ear. “I can smell her.”

Something cracked overhead. Jack looked up to see the wall teeter forward. He threw them into a roll and took the brunt of the impact. Something sharp clipped his boot. The ground actually rippled. Cloying grey dust burst into the air. He coughed and covered his mouth. The dust blinded him, but he could feel Aku shift underneath him.

“She has been here.”

Jack blinked rapidly and waved the dust away from his face. "What?"

“I can taste it in the air. Such power…."

He wrenched his eyes away to assess the situation. Rocks and fine debris littered the snow. It looked like a volcano had rained ash down the mountainside. Dagaz and Deirdre remained where they were, but they crouched with their backs against what remained of the wall. It reminded Jack of the position he was in. He stood up and pulled Aku to his feet. The demon leaned on him like a piece of furniture.

"Jack?" Deirdre's voice was faint.

"Yes. We are here."

The ruined wall revealed older foundations. A wooden hatch had covered it once, but that had long since rotted away. Only hinges and a rectangular hole remained. Despite the morning’s light, it remained a featureless void. There was no suggestion of any structure. But a presence rose from the earth. Jack swallowed hard and looked away. Both Dagaz and Deirdre came to stand by his side. They all stared into the darkness.

Aku watched Dagaz. “Those words were given to you.”

Dagaz looked at him for a long time. Without saying a word, the Celt withdrew a golden medallion that had been hidden under the layers of clothing. It shone under the sunlight, the sapphires on its surface glowed as blue as Dagaz's eyes. Familiar figures were carved into the gold. Their hands raised in despair.

“She found you,” Aku said. “She caught you in this place.”

“She did.”

Jack sucked in a sharp breath as several things fell into place. “The gods would not let her wander here unchallenged. Unless….”

“…She possessed a human vessel.” Aku tilted his head.

Deirdre sagged and nearly lost her balance. “Your nightmares. You said you couldn’t sleep.”

“Aye,” Dagaz said softly. “I tried to warn you, but it’s done.”

He threw the medallion onto the ground. It shone eerily in the snow. His eyes glowed in sympathy.

“Now she knows.”

Some quality to the air changed. Aku jerked upright like someone had shouted his name. The wind stilled. Jack unsheathed his sword and looked around. Nothing moved. His own breathing sounded muffled.

A jet of light burst from the medallion. It shredded clouds. The sun withered to a grey pinprick. A new kind of cold descended on them. The sky darkened to indigo. Morning turned to dusk.

Jack forced himself to look at Aku. The demon’s eyes reflected the sky, but his expression stayed blank. Dagaz shouted hoarsely and struck the medallion. Light exploded through his hammer, up his arms, and into his body. His skin pulsed like the transparent flesh of a newborn bird. A corona flashed around him. Jack instinctively guarded himself and Aku, but the heat seared his face. Any exposed skin burned. He shut his eyes and involuntary tears streamed down his cheeks.

"What is happening?" Jack shouted over the roar of power.

It suddenly stopped. All of it. Everything fell dark and silent. Jack finally opened his eyes. The sky had no stars. It looked flat and very close to the ground. The weight of it pushed on his shoulders.

He looked to Aku for an answer, but Aku suddenly doubled over. He trembled as another papery wisp of flesh fell to the ground and disintegrated. The fuhai had nearly finished its work.

#samurai jack #aku #jaku #ansuzstuff #dwtdstory

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snow-slayer · 8 years ago

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Never Better - Samurai Jack Fanfiction

Here’s a completed first draft (It doesn’t follow the season 5 of Samurai Jack because I started writing after episode 3 aired).

Summary: Most robots he fought stayed dead once they were cleaved in half. Now Jack is faced with a choice: get as far away as he could from the assassin or team up with Scaramouche and Neliah, the woman who rebuilt Scaramouche, to destroy the largest beetle drone factor in the area, assuming they can find it.

“Never Better”

“Stand down.” The robot merely laughed at the threat. Trying to command the eight foot tall assassin was a woman hardly five feet tall and weaponless as far as Jack could tell. She hardly seemed concerned, standing with both gloved hands tucked casually into her pockets.

“Didn’t think you’d see me again, did you, Sammy baby? I’m not so easy to kill. Now I’ve got a second chance and I’ve never been better, babe!”

“I said stand down,” the woman repeated flatly.

“Relax, babe. I can take him.” He drew the sword on his back, giving it a few test swings as Jack drew his gun, aiming it at the center of Scaramouche’s chest. Suddenly, the robot grabbed his head, the sword falling harmlessly to the ground, followed shortly by the robot himself.

“Uhh, babe! Stop!” he moaned out, rolling to his side and bringing his knees up to his chest. Jack cast a glance at the woman. He saw her left hand move slightly within the confines of her pocket. Slowly, the robot regained his composure, dragging back to his feet. He sheathed his sword and shook his head.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. We’re still … working things out.” Scaramouche had retreated, still caressing his head with one hand as he muttered under his breath. “The name’s Neliah.”

“Jack.” He cast an eye around their campsite. He had seen their campfire as he was traveling, leaving his bike to investigate on foot. As he had drawn near, he heard the familiar voice of Scaramouche, whom he thought thoroughly destroyed.

“Nice to meet you in person. Only heard terrible things about you, of course.” She shuffled closer to the campfire, rotating the meat on the spit.

“Why don’t you ask him to stay, babe? I’m sure he’d love to hear all the things you’ve done. Like all the people you’ve hurt and all the weapons you’ve helped make. Makes me look like a kitten, babe.”

“You are welcome to share some of our rations, if you’d like.” Jack accepted the invitation, if only out of fear the robot would get out of hand. He took a seat several feet away from Neliah, listening to the fat sizzle on the plump rodent cooking.

“I needed fire power. That’s why I put him back together, if you were wondering.” Jack cast another glance towards the robot who had begun pacing by the tent.

“Won’t let me kill anything, Sammy baby. Can’t see why she wants to torment me.” He tapped his head and forced a look of mock sadness.

“I added a few safety precautions until I can do a full reboot and remove the assassin program.”

“Nothing to remove, babe. I was made this way.”

“What are you planning?” Jack’s hand inched towards his gun as Scaramouche finally meandered closer to the fire.

“I’m tracking the beetle drones manufacturing plants. The largest one is said to be out this way.” She pointed towards the east. “I only have a general location. We’re going to destroy it to slow down production in addition to destroying their newest weapon creation. There have been rumors circulating that there’s a new mind controlling device in production which could potentially work on robots and humans. If it gets completed, that will give Aku or anyone who gets there hand on it unlimited soldiers. They’ll be soulless shells that follow his every whim.”

“Wouldn’t you know, babe? Must have been fun making the prototype,” Scaramouche laid on his chest, feeding anything that would burn into the fire.

“I don’t have the power or resources to do it on my own. There are a few towns between here and there, so I was hoping to gather some materials to make some explosives.” Neliah took the roast off, offering it to Jack so he could take half. After he pulled off a portion, Neliah took the stick back, tearing chunks off with her teeth.

“It’ll still be just you, babe, on your little quest for redemption. They’ll see Aku’s most favorite assassin,” he proudly gestured to himself, “and call me a hero when I tell them of your plan. Besides, what’s to motivate me? I might just stand there and take in the scenery as they pummel your body full of bullets.”

“How far along is production on the weapon?” Jack posed hesitantly.

“They’re supposedly testing in the next month.”

“And how far away is the factory?”

“I don’t know. I’m guessing a week, maybe a week and a half.”

“I would be willing to join you to destroy the factory.”

The sun stabbed them in the eyes as they crossed the empty plains. Jack felt more on edge, having only had two hours of sleep. The robot talked all night, mostly degrading Neliah, only stopping when one of the plates used to piece him back together came undone and Neliah forced him into stasis to make the repair. She mentioned that she could wake him, but Jack did not protest when she decided to let his system cool down for a few hours. Still, Jack slept fitfully, not knowing enough about Neliah to trust her, but fearing the worst if he left. Scaramouche was deadly, and Jack knew all he would have to do is sneak up on her and steal the device that was keeping him at bay.

Pacing Neliah on her own bike, he kept his eyes on Scaramouche. The robot was chained to the back at Jack’s demand, yelling over the motor. Jack thought he looked bored. Occasionally, they would meet eyes, Scaramouche making lewd gestures or giving him bedroom eyes. Jack came to appreciate Neliah’s patience. In the distance, a town finally appeared on the horizon. Jack watched as Neliah angled towards it. They came to a stop on the outskirts.

“Desolate. Looks like the beetle drones ravaged this place. There’s no carnage. Not much of anything.” Neliah had dismounted, staring down the baron streets. The buildings were still standing, although they looked wind buffeted and unused. Scaramouche had already begun strolling down the main street as soon as Neliah freed him, commenting the he would have done better, especially with his tuning sword.

“Good thing he lost it,” Neliah turned to Jack, giving him a wink before she followed after the robot. Jack kept pace with her, forcing himself to take smaller steps so as not to overpass her.

“You can go on ahead. I’m a bit on the slow side. Bad joints and such.” Jack nodded, trailing the robot, who periodically swept inside a building to explore the interiors. After two hours of wondering, and countless complaints of the humans taking too long, they returned to the entrance empty handed.

They traveled east again, the sun at their backs. The beginning of another forest provided the camping location for the night. Even with Scaramouche’s constant chattering, Jack managed to catch a few creatures to feast on. Neliah pulled out a can of oil from her bike, which Scaramouche scarfed down in seconds. Crumpling the can when it was drained, he threw it at Neliah as she began cooking. He flashed Jack a grin, pacing the perimeter of their campsite. Scaramouche bored of talking to himself after an hour, taking a seat next to Neliah.

“What’s wrong, Sammy baby? Do I make you nervous? Do I make your skin crawl?” Jack eased his hand from the gun hoister, slowly chewing on the roast as he kept his eyes on the robot. Scaramouche’s grin split across his whole face. Faster than Jack could get to his feet, Scaramouche had grabbed Neliah’s left arm, flinging her away a few feet. He was on top of her, tearing at her pocket and rolling away.

“How stupid can you be, babe?” he laughed, holding up a small remote to show off his spoils. “You thought a little shock collar could keep me at bay?” The remote was crushed in his massive hand, the pieces crumbling without any repercussions to him. Neliah had risen to her feet. Jack had drawn his gun again, taking a few steps towards the robot. He noticed that Neliah had her left hand facing him, as if requesting him to stay still.

“You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, trust me, babe, I’ve been waiting for days for this opportunity. You thought that Jack here would protect you and you let your guard down. I’m going to enjoy this, babe. Au revior.” He drew his sword again, not an ounce of hesitation as he stepped forward. The sword was raised above his head as he prepared to strike the killing blow. His face went blank, the blue eyes vanishing as his mouth opened in surprise. A black substance began leaking over his lower lips before he began to scream.

Neliah walked over to his fallen form, pulling a device from her back pocket, which she touched to his temples.

“I’m sorry. I had to incorporate a failsafe should the remote be destroyed. Unfortunately, I cannot control the duration of the pain on this one. It will fade when you stop attempting to murder a sentient creature.” The device in her hand seemed to help, as Scaramouche stopped convulsing so wildly, his cries of pain fading a notch.

“I don’t want this, babe.” His voice had lost the arrogant edge Jack was used to. “I don’t want to be like this.”

“I know,” she sighed, “I know, Scaramouche. When we finish the mission, we’ll find a lab and I’ll remove the fail safe and give you a full reset. I’ll take out the assassin coding, too.”

“So I can do what I want, babe?”

“Yes, I’ll let you make your own choices. I promise.” A wave of the black burnt smelling substances tumbled of his lips again as he let out another cry.

“Please. Please … make it stop, babe.”

“I’ll put you back in stasis. Keep fighting the impulse.” Making some adjustments to the tool, she touched it to his temple again, the whining of the machine and his pained cries fading. She brushed the dirt from her clothing and returned to her seat by the fire.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little startled. Glad to see the failsafe works.” She let out a hollow laugh rubbing her own temple with her hand.

“Why did he sound so different?

“It’s the original coding coming through. The assassination program seems to falter when he’s in severe pain. It doesn’t last though. He’ll be back to the new normal in the morning.”

“He’s still a murderer.” Neliah sighed, letting out another shaky laugh.

“He’s the only family I have left.”

“And you put him back together.”

“I know. He can’t control the programming, but it’s no excuse. I’d say I feel guilty, but that’s only half the truth. I’m no better than him.” They picked at the remnants of dinner as the stars drifted lazily across the sky.

“What do you mean by saying he’s your family? Did you build him?” Jack couldn’t help the accusatory note that was creeping into his voice.

“I helped, yes. I guess it was … twenty years ago, give or take. I was about ten. Not really old enough to be a lab assistant, but I was anyway. My family’s been building robots for years. My grandmother perfected the personality chip with the first successful usage in X9. My father started working on the next phase.”

“They worked for years trying to build a circuit board that would allow robots to feel pleasure and pain. The theory was that it would create a reward and punishment system. Except they had trouble creating a motherboard strong enough. They fried so many machines trying to induce basic physical pain and pleasure. Finally, they built Scaramouche.”

“His circuits held up to the initial pleasure test, something that the others hadn’t. For a while, I guess it was nice for him. They’d experiment for hours, inducing simple pleasures. A hug, gentle currents of electricity, stuff like that, although I’m sure it became … more erotic later on. My father was … well, eccentric’s putting it nice. I was spared this viewing, thankfully. Then the second half of the experiments began after about six years.”

“Pain,” Jack guessed. Neliah nodded slowly, casting an eye to make sure the robot was still asleep.

“It changed him. I used to know him before, and he was alright. A little too talkative, a little too hands on, but he wasn’t like this. Every day, for twelve years, the house would be filled with his screaming and pleas. They would leave him strapped into a table for days on end, administering different types of shocks and recording the results to build others like him.”

“Why not just leave out the pain?”

“Because you don’t learn if there’s no pain. You can’t get better without it,” Neliah whispered, tilting her head down. “So they tortured him, or worse, took him from one extreme to the other to see how he faired. When they gathered enough data, he was so resigned. This eight foot tall powerhouse was reduced to nothing but sulking the halls and trying to avoid everything. Eventually, they reprogrammed him, repressing the original coding and adding a killer’s instinct.”

“Are there others like him?” Jack demanded.

“No. That was my first act of rebellion. I destroyed the research. They never have and never will make another one like him.”

Jack must have looked exasperated, as Neliah mouthed the words “I’m sorry” the first time they made eye contact. Scaramouche had reverted back to the way Jack had always known, but seemed more content to push the boundaries a bit. He made nastier comments, came a little too close for Jack’s comfort, and was generally annoying. Neither human said anything, as it only seemed to provoke him further when they requested him to calm down.

“Are we ever leaving, babe, or should I just sit down and rust to death?” He plopped down next to Neliah as she ate breakfast. “Or are you waiting for a little something special to start your day?” The robot started to lean towards her, his waist inching to a forty degree angle with the ground as his head rested on her shoulder. “Although I don’t mind watching if you like Jack better than me, babe. Don’t see how you would like the ragged beard, though.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m ready to head out.”

“You’re missing out, babe,” he hinted with a sneer. Neliah leaned forward, letting the rest of Scaramouche’s weight pull him towards the ground. He snarled as he sat up, beating the dirt from his side. “That was cold, babe.”

The day was uneventful. Jack wondered if they were even heading in the right direction as the crossed the endlessly repeating terrain. The worry about Scaramouche overpowering Neliah also weighed in his mind. She had no defenses against him. All three were well aware of the fact, although Neliah did not seem too concerned. She casually drove, one hand on the handlebars, one tucked in her pocket, hardly a care tainting her expression. Even Scaramouche leaning on her shoulder and running his metal tongue down her neck did not faze her.

They stopped for the night, Scaramouche volunteering Neliah to gather the firewood. Jack set up the tents as Scaramouche reclined against a tree. He periodically shouted out some orders, quite content to not lift a finger. Neliah made several trips, dropping off an armful at a time.

“Could you move any slower, babe?”

“If you want to eat, there’s oil in the side compartment. No need to wait for us.”

“Poor Sammy baby is wasting away to nothing!” Jack scowled into the small fire he had started, warming his hands as the blaze grew. Neliah was coming back with the fourth load when Scaramouche started following her. He planted a solid kick square on her back, forcing her forwards onto the small load she had collected. Jack jerked his head towards them, waiting for the pain to overtake Scaramouche.

Nothing happened.

Jack was slightly overwhelmed. He was fairly sure he was competent to deal with one or the other, but was struggling with both. Neliah woke up, immediately dragging herself to the edge of camp where she was violently sick. Scaramouche had made his way over to watch, close enough to laugh at her discomfort, but far enough to keep his shoes clean.

“What’s the matter, babe? Got a little case of morning sickness?”

“Might be food poisoning,” she got out between waves.

“Uh-huh. Sure, babe. You keep telling yourself that. Jack ate the same thing as you.” He cast a glance down at Jack, his eyes lighting up a shade brighter as he realized who had done the cooking. A scalding laugh erupted from him.

“Oh ho ho, babe,” he belted out a laugh. “Seems like Sammy baby doesn’t like you either! He already killed me once, and now he’s trying to off you!”

“You didn’t look well last night,” Jack commented softly. “You were trembling all night. Perhaps we should rest today.”

“Oh no! I don’t think so, babe,” Scaramouche growled. “I am not sitting all day in the middle of nowhere. It’s already been a week that I’ve had to endure her insufferable company.”

“He’s right. We should keep pressing forward. We don’t have the luxury of waiting.” Jack glared at the robot as Scaramouche beamed. After a light breakfast, they were on their way again.

Jack noticed the black line on the horizon first. He motioned for Neliah to stop. With a nod, Neliah understood.

“Beetle drones. Well, maybe it means we’re getting close. Looks like it’s your time to shine,” she elbowed Scaramouche.

“Ah, but you forgot, babe. I can’t kill anything. Guess I’ll just sit this one out. You can borrow my sword,” he smirked.

“I said you can’t kill sentiment creatures. These have no feelings. They just move forward, destroying everything in their path. You can destroy these.” A knot formed in Jack’s stomach at the sight of the devilish grin.

“Unchain me, babe.” They continued on to the line of approaching drones. Scaramouche dismounted with a graceful leap towards the drones. Swiftly, he began running towards the approaching ranks, sword leading the way. Neliah pulled to a stop, pulling her own gun from a compartment under the bike seat.

“Can’t say I’ll be much use, but I’ll take care of the stragglers.” Jack took his own electric staff, powering it up before riding in behind the carnage Scaramouche left in his wake. He took out the ones that challenged him, noticing that the line was converging into a circle around him and Scaramouche. After a few minutes, he pulled out, noticing the ranks were significantly less in number. He could not deny that Scaramouche’s tactics were efficient. The robot would not let himself be surrounded, jumping high in the air and using the beetle drones as spring boards. He would take out several at a time with a single swing of his sword. Jack backed out to where Neliah had remained parked. She placed a well-aimed bullet through a few that strayed from the group, mostly watching.

As the number diminished to the last twenty, the humans watched as Scaramouche taunted the last few. He’d let them get close, hacking off only a leg or two before he would jump away unscratched. He strolled back, swinging his sword absentmindedly when the last drone had fallen. The blue eyes bore into Jack, seeming a little bit brighter and a lot more reckless.

Scaramouche’s boasting did not last long when they reached the new campsite. He began walking erratically, nearly dragging his right leg when he took a step. At first Jack thought he was merely mocking Neliah again until he heard the change in tone of voice. He was still bragging about his success, but it was losing the edge rapidly. He dropped the fire wood he was collecting, slowly lowering himself to the ground.

“Help, babe. Help … me.” Kneeling, he looked over to Neliah, his metal lips trembling. She came over, her limp more visible as she tried to move faster.

“On your back. Jack, can you bring me the medical kit under the bike seat?” Both men complied, and Neliah undid Scaramouche’s belt, pulling his coat open. Jack returned with the medical kit, taking a step back in surprise as he saw just how human Scaramouche looked.

“What’s wrong, babe? You want a piece of me?” Scaramouche laughed, the harsh noise cutting off suddenly as a confused look crossed his face. “Sorry … no.” Getting over the momentary distraction, Jack’s eyes moved to the root cause of the problem. The plates holding the leg in place had started warping, the leg separating unnaturally from the hip piece. Wires were visible, sparking periodically.

“I’m going to leave you awake for this, because I want to make sure you can still move your leg when I’m done. I’d hate to patch it and have to rip the patch out later.” Scaramouche started to groan something angrily, but snapped his jaw closed and nodded.

“Jack, if you could hold the joint together,” she gestured to the two places she wanted pressed together, “Watch the sparking. It’ll probably hurt you move than it’s already hurting him.” Jack complied, turning his head away in embarrassment. The soldering tool brought a harsh cry from Scaramouche when it made contact, but he stifled them as Neliah realigned the plates and added a third to secure them.

“Alright, see if you can still move your leg.” Scaramouche lifted his right leg off the ground, rotating his foot to make sure all the circuits still functioned. “Good. I’m going to bolt these on. It’s going to hurt, but it’ll just take a minute.” The robot nodded, the blue fading as he closed his eyes. Neliah took another tool from the kit, giving one last warning before she bolted the corners of the new plate.

Jack found himself wincing with Scaramouche’s yelps. True to her word, Neliah had finished within a minute, putting the tools back in the box. Scaramouche’s hands were balled into fists, a thin trail of the black and burnt oil sliding out the corner of his mouth.

“Can you still move your leg?” The robot did not answer nor move. Finally, he raised his leg a couple of inches off the ground before letting it fall. Neliah sighed in relief, pulling his coat closed and securing the belt. She crawled over to his head, finally letting him drift into stasis.

Scaramouche came to a few hours later, raining insults on Neliah’s repairing skills. After four hours of not receiving a single comment in return, he finally bored, laying down by the fire. He was feeding twigs into the flame, but would pull them out and flick the burning pieces towards Neliah. When even that failed to bring about a satisfactory reaction, he rolled away and laid down next to the bikes, still muttering.

“We should probably get some sleep,” Neliah suggested. Jack glanced at her, noticing she was trembling again.

“I have an extra blanket if you need one.”

“Oh no, I’m fine. Probably just a little worn out.” They wandered over to their respective tents. Jack did not sleep. The silence was too troublesome, considering Scaramouche was not currently in stasis. He could even hear Neliah’s deep breathing in the tent next to his after an hour. It was not too much longer until his suspicions were confirmed.

A wave of night birds fluttered away from their location. Scaramouche’s cry of pain reverberated around the woods as Jack bolted from the tent. The robot was still near the bikes, the control panel on Jack’s bike now sitting on the ground. Several tools lay nearby, now useless as Scaramouche could barely control his body.

“Two minutes. You need to think about what you’ve done,” Neliah called out. Scaramouche screamed for help, eyes appearing to flicker wildly as he tried to focus on anything. After the two minutes were up, Neliah made an appearance, kneeling by his head, the trusty tool in hand. She started by lessening the pain.

“Even if you’re not directly trying to kill someone, the failsafe will activate if it’s your intention,” she explained softly. The robot was begging for it to stop, even begging for death. Neliah increased the power, cutting the pain significantly as the pleas silenced, only broken by the occasional moan.

“Will you still fix me when we destroy the plant, babe?”

“Yes. I promised I would.” Scaramouche went to say something else, instead divulging a mouthful of the black oil. He turned his head to the side as the foul liquid ran out of his mouth.

“Do you trust me, babe? Do you trust what I’ll do?”

“I trust the old you.” This seemed to quell the robot for the moment.

“Please make it stop, babe. I won’t … I won’t sabotage the bikes again.” Neliah agreed, putting him into stasis again. She stood slowly, wavering as she finally got to her feet.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, just tired. Not to sound too spoiled, but I do miss having a bed.”

It was a mistake the second the words left his mouth. All parties knew it.

“Leave her alone.” There was dead silence for three long seconds before the robot cackled.

“So you’re the father, Sammy baby! You’ve fallen low!” Neliah had finally gotten ahold of herself, fighting down the next wave of nausea as she took the water Jack offered.

“You did kind of walk into that one,” she mumbled as Scaramouche continued his taunting. They headed out after a rushed breakfast, the motor drowning out Scaramouche for the most part. Neliah started veering left, towards another town that had popped up on the horizon. Like the other town, the streets were desolate.

“Is this Alnicomaodd?” Neliah tried to make out the worn letters by the front gate. “If so, this is an old mining town. There’s bound to be some good explosives here.” They spread out, Scaramouche heading to the far end of town, Jack taking a middle section, and Neliah looking at the nearby buildings. They worked towards the center of town. Scaramouche approached them with a box in his hand and a smile on his face.

“Boom, babe. I found the dynamite.” He sat the box on the ground gently, opening the lid and showing it with a sweep of his hand. Neliah peered in, noting they were still in the protective packaging so the ride would not jostle them and set off the explosives.

“I’ll carry them back to the bikes,” Jack volunteered quickly.

“What’s wrong, Sammy baby? Scared I might drop them?” Scaramouche backed away though, letting Jack take the box. The three headed back to the bikes. Scaramouche would walk a few buildings ahead, and then circle back, offering his version of encouragements. Jack noticed that Scaramouche had slowed down to Neliah’s pace. He too slowed down, should another conflict arise.

“They’ll have the weapons and the next model at this rate, babe. Allow me to help.” He grabbed her right wrist and went to pull her forward. His hand curled into a fist, the back of Neliah’s hand falling unnaturally against his. Scaramouche stopped walking, his features confused. Jack eye’s darted back from the snapped wrist to Neliah’s blank expression. Rather than just releasing her arm, Scaramouche pulled it straight up slowly. At the height, he rotated it unnaturally, finding no resistance.

“Would you kindly release my sleeve?” Scaramouche opened his fist, watching as the material feel straight down. Neliah used her left hand to tuck the fingers of the glove at the end of her right sleeve back into her pocket.

“Babe, where’s your arm?”

“Got infected, so I had to remove it.”

“When, babe?”

“Couple months ago.” Neliah continued walking, finally catching up a few steps to Jack. He turned back in the direction he was walking after casting one last look at Scaramouche who still had not moved. The two walked slowly, finally hearing the mechanical noises of Scaramouche as he caught up behind them. Scaramouche grabbed Neliah’s waist and tossed her effortlessly over his shoulder. He made an offhand comment about her still taking too long, but his concentration was elsewhere.

“What’s this, babe?” Jack watched as Scaramouche wrenched something small out of Neliah’s hand. Even with her arm extended, she could not reach to the top of his head, let alone whatever Scaramouche held above his head. Uninterested in her demands, he glanced up, reading off the label of the pill bottle.

“Oxyquartines. Wow, babe! How’d you manage to get the good stuff? Take two by mouth per day? Nobody takes that much, babe. How’s it going to impact yours and Jack’s child?”

“Give it back!”

“Aw, are you in pain, babe? These aren’t even yours, unless you changed you name, thief.”

“I had to use an assumed name. I can’t really waltz in anywhere using my real name, now can I? They’re no use to you anyway.”

“I might feel a little something if I grind them up and mix them with my oil. Might dull the pain that you love to put me in, babe.”

“Please, Scaramouche, please return them.” Jack watched as satisfaction flashed across the robot’s face.

“Are you begging me, babe? You’re not very good at it.”

“Yes,” she conceded, “I’m begging you. I need them.” He had lowered the bottle so it was just inches above her fingertips.

“Begging’s done on your knees, babe.” Jack’s hand was on the gun handle. He was not sure where he intended to step in, but if it was going on the path he thought, then he planned to make his move soon. Neliah slowly went down to her knees, leaning her head against the hip joint they had repaired. Her eyes remained glued to the ground.

“Please give them back.” Scaramouche let out a harsh laugh, finally lowering his arm.

“You’re probably right, babe. Can’t use them anyway.” He casually tossed the bottle a few feet away, which Neliah went scrambling after. Jack assumed she took one, trying to better secure the bottle in an inside jacket pocket. She sat with her back against a tree, bringing her knees up to her chest and burying her head with her remaining arm. Scaramouche gave them ten minutes of peace to finish breakfast before he began rushing them. Neliah made her way over, blocked by Jack on her way to the bikes.

“Are you –”

“Fine. Yes, I’m fine. Never better.” She brushed past him, not even bothering to put the chains on Scaramouche as she mounted and headed east. Jack was sure to keep an eye on them, hardly watching the landscape. Both were hard to read, Scaramouche almost looking contemplative while Neliah had kept her expression even, still masterfully driving with one arm.

They drove all day, but the trees were sparse as the sun lengthened their shadows. Even as it grew dark, they pressed on. Jack was a bit nervous watching the pair. Neliah’s bike would waver a bit on the trek. After a while, he felt her glare piercing through him and kept his eyes forward. A sigh of relief escaped him as another town finally appeared on the horizon. They gunned towards it, two dust clouds trailing them.

“I’ve been here, before,” Jack murmured. The feeling of returning to an old battle ground haunted him as they each took a flashlight and went to see if there was a secure building to rest in for the night.

“That looks like a lab, babe.” Scaramouche pointed at the round building. He hauled her off her feet and over his shoulder as he headed in the direction, Jack needing to run to match the pace. Kicking down the door, Scaramouche let himself inside, groaning as he saw the interior was mostly destroyed.

“Exdor’s old lab!” Jack finally realized.

“You know Exdor?” Neliah’s demeanor perked a bit. “Well, knew him, at least. He’s been dead a few years.”

“It’s been a long time, but I knew him. He helped me destroy the Ultra-bots.”

“Kind of liked him, myself,” Neliah smiled, talking over Scaramouche’s comments. “Started working against Aku. He was a legend. Wished I had gotten a chance to meet him.”

“Let’s go, babe. This place is useless.”

“Now, now. Don’t be so hasty. You know how scientists like to have their back up lab.” Scaramouche froze in his trek back to the door. He dropped Neliah, hurrying to the perimeter to start looking for a secret door. Neliah made her way back to Jack. He saw the dilating of her pupil, but could not make it as she stumbled over something and hit the ground.

“Found it.” Scaramouche was over in a second, on his knees searching for a way to get the trapdoor open. He found a handle, jerking it up only for it to break off in his hands.

“Maybe there’s a key, or we –” Jack’s suggestions were interrupted as Scaramouche got a hand hold and ripped the entire door off of its hinges, flinging it behind him. He jumped down the stairs, Neliah and Jack wincing as his metal body bounced off the narrow walls with loud, metallic thuds. Both headed down the stairs carefully, ducking under the low archway.

“It’s got all the amenities, babe,” Scaramouche called up, notably excited. Jack entered the hollowed out room, shielding his eyes as Scaramouche shown the beam in his face. All sorts of tools he did not recognize lined the walls, pieces of metal, nuts, bolts, and screws littering the floor.

“Does the generator work?” Neliah posed the question as she took the last step. Scaramouche wondered over to the far side, looking at the control panel. He pressed a few buttons and pulled some levers, but the machine stayed quiet. Knocking on the fuel tank produced a hollow noise.

“So we’ll keep our eyes open for fuel in our travels.”

“There might be something in town, babe.”

“Feel free to look around, but I’m not taking out the fail safes until after we destroy the plant. That was the deal.” Scaramouche growled about that not being fair, instantly snapping his mouth shut when Neliah suggested that she did not have to perform the procedure at all if he did not want to wait. He slunk back up the stairs, heading out in search of fuel.

“Should we go back up to ground level to sleep?”

“Here’s fine. He can’t block the exit without the fail safes activating.” She found some folded up blankets, tossing one to Jack before spreading the other on the desk. “Besides, we might actually get a little sleep if he spends all night looking for fuel. He’ll be looking a while since he didn’t even see the extra containers under the desk.”

“It’s almost noon. Let’s go, babe!” Scaramouche dropped his armful of metal objects before sweeping his flashlight around the darkened lab.

“Noon? I feel like I’ve only slept for a few hours.”

“Too bad, babe. Here, I found this.” He picked up one of the cans and hurled it at her. She let it hit her chest with a dull thud and a groan. Finding a flash light, she looked at the can.

“This expired like ten years ago. Thanks, though.” In the darkness, Jack watched as Scaramouche rolled his eyes, unable to see the rest of his expression.

“What about this one, babe? Or this one?” he threw can after can at her. She shielded her face, letting them hit her or the wall. After five or six, he stopped, nudging the pile of metal to see if there were other consumable goods among the partial cans of fuel.

“This ones probably okay,” Neliah popped open the lid, sniffing the contents. “Yeah, this is good. Thanks, Scaramouche.”

“Good, let’s go, babe.” Neliah found another can which had not yet expired, tossing it to Jack. He opened it, taking an exploratory sniff and gagging.

“It smells bad, but the taste is pretty good.” Jack took a bite.

“What is it?” The texture was slimy, but tasted like a combination of beans and poultry.

“You don’t want to know.” Scaramouche had marched up the stairs, impatiently tapping his feet at the top. They ate, Jack leading the way up the stairs.

“The sun’s barely up,” Neliah remarked, glaring at Scaramouche.

“My bad, babe. I can’t tell time.” A knowing grin spread across his face as he led the way to the motorcycle, grabbing Neliah on the way. Jack wished that he would stop throwing Neliah to the ground when they reached the destination, but held his tongue. Scaramouche sat in the driver’s seat, hands on the handle bars.

“As much as you want it, I’m not riding in your lap, so slide back.”

“You’re making me motion sick, babe. And you drive too slowly.” Jack hoped his face didn’t show the disappointment when Neliah did not protest. She grabbed his waist and hauled herself on behind him. Scaramouche drove significantly faster, and Jack hoped his bike would be able to keep up. He glanced over to see how Neliah was faring. The robot was shouting, although Jack couldn’t make it out. Neliah met his eyes, nodding towards Scaramouche and rolling her eyes.

The manufacturing plant did not reach up to the stars, but it might have stretched around the world as far as Jack could tell. Neliah was explaining the layout of the plant, describing their best route to get to the main machines in the center of the building and start the destruction there. The ends were mainly holding facilities for the drones to send out in batches.

“The longer we can go without setting off the alarms, the better. They’ll have every beetle drone on us if we do. Doesn’t matter if they’re half built or fully functioning. We get the dynamite into the machines, set the fuses, and then we have two minutes to get out.”

“Easy, babe. Watch the motorcycles.”

“I’m coming in with you both.” Scaramouche’s protests were louder than Jack’s, so she addressed them first.

“While I appreciate your selfish concerns, how are you going to turn the machines off while fighting off the drones and manufacturers? If you don’t, you’ll never get the dynamite inside safely.” His face fell.

“How do you except to shut the machines off, babe? You can’t just waltz in any better than we can. In fact, it’s probably worse than us, babe.”

“I’ve worked on them before. I’ve also destroyed them. I know how they function. Why do you think I’m running us through the control room rather than just barging in the front door? There’s less alarms and we can move a little slower. If we can take the control room, we can put the emergency locks on the holding locations so we only have to deal with a few. You two can hold them off, and I’ll get the machines stopped. I’ll expect you to get me on the way out if you want me alive.” Scaramouche made a last scathing remark before he took the box of dynamite from Jack’s bike and headed towards the building. Neliah assured them security videos were not used, since it was in such a remote location. Mounting the building in two easy leaps, Scaramouche left the box on the roof as he came back to collect Neliah. Jack followed them up. As Neliah has explained, they found the roof access, Scaramouche leading the way as Jack carried the box, Neliah walking behind him, gun in hand. Scaramouche destroyed the simple hall monitors. Each time one appeared and was destroyed, the three would freeze and wait thirty seconds to see if an alarm had been activated.

They reached the hall leading to the control room. Scaramouche peered around the corner, declared the hall empty and kept going. He reached the entrance to the control room first, tilting his head as he looked in. Letting out a harsh laugh, he proudly declared it was empty.

“No. They wouldn’t do that.” Neliah walked past Jack, who had set the box down to rest a moment.

“Well, looks like you were wrong, babe,” Scaramouche scoffed, gesturing to the room as Neliah approached. She stepped to the far wall, glancing at an angle at the doorway.

“Get away! It’s a –” Neliah jumped backwards as metal arms stretched out and latched onto Scaramouche’s arms and waist. His eyes were wide as he looked back for help before being pulled into the room.

“Guard the box!” Jack demanded as he sprinted past Neliah, his own gun drawn. He starred into the room, seeing it empty. The hologram shimmered as the next set of arms reached out. Jack side stepped them, rolling into the room. Immediately, his gun exploded in his hand with a beam of energy.

“What a trio! A rogue assassin, a fallen scientist, and a mad samurai. I’m not quite sure which of you is worse.” Before Jack stood a tall robot dressed in a green suit with gold trim. Although not quite as tall as Scaramouche, he was a foot taller than Jack and twice as wide. His left hand had been forced into Scaramouche’s chest, oil dripping down his arm from the four finger holes he had punctured through the metal chest plate. Scaramouche writhed against his bindings, teeth clenched as he refused to vocalize the pain the other robot was causing.

“I thought about sending the drones in after you all as you destroyed my security bots, but I knew you were headed this way. It’s much more fun to finish you off in person. I’ll be back for you, Neliah!” Keeping the gun trained on Jack’s chest, he removed his fingers from Scaramouche and touched a button on the control panel behind him. The door latched shut.

“So who wants to die first?” He shoved his fingers back into Scaramouche’s chest. Scaramouche’s sagging frame tensed up again. Although his eyes were open only slits, Jack could tell they were becoming dull.

“I’m … on your … side, Voltiare, babe.” Scaramouche choked out.

“Is that so? Then you would have already disposed of the Samurai.” Scaramouche was trying to explain the failsafe, but couldn’t get the words out. What few words he managed made it clear the pain was overriding the assassination code again.

“I think I’ll start with you. You were only good as a punching bag, anyway. I don’t know why Neliah took any pity on you. I would have scrapped you like the good doctor’s original plan once research was complete, but she begged for you to be spared. Probably converting you into an assassin was not the idea she had in mind, although she paid dearly for her interruptions. Such a pity all the results were lost.” Jack held his ground, discreetly trying to glance around the room for anything he could use to his advantage. The green clad robot watched him intently, not even looking at Scaramouche as he tortured him.

“So tell me, Jack? What made you stoop to working with two murderers? Surely you don’t condone that kind of behavior.” Jack said nothing.

“Ah, or do you not know about Neliah? She used to be a force to be reckoned with, although I’m quite surprised she’s still alive. I was lucky to land a job here before she snapped. Left the Xander family lab in ruins. All the work of generations past: gone. All the new inventions and new models: destroyed. Her family: dead.”

“I suppose that’s better for you, though. She took out Aku’s leading scientist, so now all we have left are the drone makers. They’re a bit bland, always rehashing the same thing, maybe adding a leg, making it bigger, but it’s all the same.” Jack finally trained his eyes on Scaramouche, needing to focus on something. The robots eyes had disappeared, his hat displaced to the floor from one of the times he thrashed his head. A steady stream of black oil spewed from his mouth, dripping down the front of his coat. Jack began tensing, planning to make one attempt at an attack.

The opening door behind him was all the diversion he needed. Voltiare fired as Jack dove to the side, leaving a searing wound in his shoulder. He fired again at the opening door before his head exploded in a stream of sparks and oil. Neliah laid on the ground, breathing heavily as Voltiare’s body slowly collapsed, his hand finally sliding away from Scaramouche’s chest. Holding his right shoulder, Jack took the few steps to her, and pulled her to her feet.

“Took a few more minutes than I hoped to get the door open.” She tucked the gun away and stared blankly at Scaramouche for a while. He did not move. Swearing under her breath, she picked up the lifeless body of Voltiare, letting it lean on her as she slid the fingers back into the hole.

“Help me hold him up.” Jack took her spot under the body and kept the hand in position as Neliah adjusted her tool. She jammed it into the neck where his head used to be, twisting it to find the right position.

“Please work,” she prayed, staring up at Scaramouche’s lifeless face. A faint whirring started, increasing in sound as Scaramouche moved his limbs and head slightly. He came to with a robotic gasp, spraying the black liquid over Neliah.

“How are you feeling?” she posed. Scaramouche’s eyes appeared and he opened his mouth to speak. Instead, his body went limp again, the whirring fading.

“No, no, no, no!” Neliah wrenched the tool to the side, the circuits in the severed head sparking at the increase of electricity. “Come on!” Scaramouche began to move again. He finally groaned, raising his head.

“What happened, babe?”

“This energy vampire took too much out of you. I’ve reversed what I could, but you’re going to need a recharge.” She pulled Voltiare fingers away, Jack throwing the body to the floor and exiting to get the box of dynamite secured in the room. When he returned, Neliah sealed off the door behind them, scanning the control panel for a way to free Scaramouche. She found the release. Jack helped pull his fallen body towards the control panel, Neliah assuming there would be a charge station nearby which would have satisfied Voltiare’s appetite. She discovered a few tools and opened up the top of Scaramouche’s jacket. Jack stared down at the four finger sized holes, seeing that they had gone about three inches into the metal. Neliah was working to get the movable cover plate off, struggling a bit with only one hand. She pried it up enough to attach the wires inside. Scaramouche made a strange noise between a purr and a hum, his eyes flickering rapidly as a soft smile crossed his face. She studied the holes, but determined they would not provide too much trouble until she could properly fix them.

Neliah was scanning the monitors silently. Below them in the main room, the workers went on obliviously. She was frowning.

“I think I can clear the room with an alarm, but it will send in the drones.”

“It will protect them,” Jack assured her.

“We’ll wait five minutes after I set the alarms, which will give them enough time to get out. Will you be ready in five?” She nudged Scaramouche with her foot.

“Babe, I was ready ten minutes ago!” The confidence and arrogance had returned.

“You were dead ten minutes ago, but okay.” She pulled the alarm, seeing the lights flash in the room below them. On the monitors, the works fled towards the sides. Scaramouche pulled the protruding wires from his chest, reaffixing the chest plate and closing the jacket. Neliah was working to halt the mindless machines, typing in the algorithms to get them to stop. When the movement had stopped, she gestured to the windows in front of her.

“The room’s yours.” Scaramouche dove through the glass of the control room. Standing in the shattered remains, he held out his hands and looked up. Jack took the risk. He dropped the box, holding his breath until Scaramouche caught it, dropping to a knee to prevent bring the box to a sudden stop. Jack followed him out, each taking half of the ammunition and affixing it to the machines. The first of the drones were entering the room, Neliah shooting what she could from her lookout in the control room.

“Fuses lit, babe! Let’s get out of here!” Scaramouche jumped back to the control room, grabbing Jack’s hand when he followed and yanked him forwards. Jack led the way as Scaramouche hauled Neliah over his shoulder and took off behind him. On the roof, Jack slid to the edge, taking a deep breath before he hurled himself over. Scaramouche was behind him, hugging Neliah towards him as the first explosion rocked the building. The shockwave sent them hurtling forwards. Jack hit the ground and rolled to his feet. He glanced back. Scaramouche had used as much of his body as possible to shield Neliah, hitting the ground hard. Uncurling himself, he stood up as if unfazed, jerking Neliah back over his shoulder and running. Another explosion rocked the building, further crumbling the middle section. Stealing another glance back, Jack could see the workers hurrying out the sides, having been spared from the blast. He was pleased there was not a wave of drones hurrying after them.

Scaramouche readjusted Neliah in front of him, speeding away on the motorcycle. Jack chased after him, finding that his bike had enough power to catch up. Scaramouche had his right arm securely across Neliah’s chest, eyes glued forward as they navigated back to Exdor’s lab. Jack could not tell if she was conscious or even alive.

Night was falling fast when Jack finally noticed movement from Scaramouche’s passenger. She reached over to pull her right sleeve and secure it in her pocket. Scaramouche continued to hold her tightly, lest she fall at such speeds.

Jack could hardly keep his eyes open as they finally approached the decimated town. Not needing to sleep himself, Scaramouche kept racing through the night and the morning. They pulled to a stop in front of the lab. For once, Scaramouche sat Neliah on her feet roughly, but it still failed to produce the preferred results. Neliah crumpled to the ground.

“I don’t think your leg is supposed to bend like that, babe.” Scaramouche nudged her foot, nearly at a ninety degree angle from her leg.

“Thanks for your observation.” She tried forcing it back with one hand, starting to get it straight. Jack knelt beside her, swallowing the bile in his throat.

“What can I do to help?”

“Just grab it and twist it back into something that looks normal. I just need my shoe to be parallel with the ground.” Jack reached out, touching the mangled limb gently.

“Please, let me know if I am hurting you.”

“You won’t. It’s just a metal frame.”

“Your foot too, babe?” “I’ve made do without.” She raised her right pants leg a bit, showing off the metal rods that were connected to the shoe. They extended further up her leg, although it was impossible to tell how far up her leg they ran. Jack adjusted the metal so her foot looked normal. She shoved herself up, taking a few experimental steps.

“Yeah, that’s good. Thanks.” They followed her inside, Scaramouche finally taking the lead as he headed down the stairs to the lab.

“Alright, babe. What do you need to get the failsafe out?”

“Relax. Pull up that table and get comfortable. You’re going to be there a while.” Scaramouche rolled the table from the side and moved it to the center of the room, shining his flashlight at the ceiling to make sure he was centered under the light.

“Should I put the fuel in the generator, babe? I’ll get it started.”

“Just lay down.” Scaramouche halted mid-step. Without another word he followed the order. She stepped up to his head, taking his hat off and laying it on the desk.

“I’ll get Jack to help me with the prep. You can just enjoy a long snooze.” She touched her tool to his temple for a few seconds, putting him into stasis.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing right now. I need sleep. As soon as I get a few good hours under my belt, I’ll get started. Here,” she passed him the tool, “If he stirs just touch it to his temple on either side and he’ll be out for another three or four hours. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt him.” She curled back up on the desk, wrapping the blanket around her.

“Don’t wake me unless it’s an emergency.” Jack heard the pill bottle rattle a few times before she went quiet. Jack renewed the stasis three times before Neliah awoke with a groan.

“I needed that. Did you get to sleep any?”

“Yes, a few hours here and there.” Neliah stood and stretched, leaning under the desk to push out the extra fuel cans.

“Let’s get the generator running and shine some light on the matter.” Jack took two of the cans and crossed the short room, pouring the fuel into the tank. Neliah stood at the controls, replicating the actions Scaramouche had taken, receiving an electric hum. The bulbs in the ceiling flickered before finally coming on, bathing the room in a pale yellow glow.

“You don’t have to stay. Personally, I would recommend getting as far away as possible. I can get the failsafe out since I put it in, but I’ve never worked with the coding. I don’t know if I can get him back to the way he was. There’s a good chance he’ll come out exactly the same as you know him, minus the failsafe.” She gathered tools from the desk, Jack offering his hands to carry what she needed as she looked through.

“I will stay. I do not approve of reviving a murderer, but I know you want to honor your promise.” He took the tools and laid them out on the table Scaramouche was on.

“It’s nice to see someone understands my dilemma, too. Thanks, but I think you should still leave before the full reboot and restart. You’re the only one that can stop Aku. There’s not much more I can do to help your cause.” She touched her specialty tool to Scaramouche’s temple once more to insure he was in stasis. From the new selection, she found a tool to start removing the plates on his head.

“You could come with me. I will make an exception for him if you can remove the assassination coding.”

“I know he won’t want to, if all goes well. He probably just wants to do something simple, perhaps performing. I’d go, but I’ll just be deadweight.”

“What will you do?”

“You know, I haven’t really thought that far. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d make it this far.” She had the plates removed from the top of Scaramouche’s head. Turning her head up to the low ceiling, she let out a sigh.

“The fun begins.” Jack watched, assisting where he could. Neliah was lost in concentration for most of the day. She had become quite adept with one hand, as far as Jack could tell, carefully rearranging wires and removing tiny parts of hardware that would be lost lest someone breathe too heavily.

“Alright.” Jack jumped, having been dozing in the silence. Neliah only chuckled, which morphed into a dry hack at the lack of sustenance. “Going for the reboot. Should be about three hours. Care to share one last meal with me?”

“The offer is still available,” Jack reminded her.

“I’m going to politely decline. We’ve already slowed you down. If I’ve managed to get rid of the assassination code, I’ll get him back to civilization so he can at least talk to someone. I’m sure I’ll find a small repair shop or something that will take me.” Now able to see, they looked through the cans Scaramouche had originally found, finding one more that Neliah deemed edible. She popped the lid off, pulling out a six inch slab of meat about an inch squared.

“What is this?” Jack asked as she tilted her head up and ate it.

“Canned food is a lot better if you just don’t ask questions.” Jack pulled one out, studying it for a moment. It had scales, and looked similar to a fish. A small bite assaulted his mouth with a sweet earthy tone flavor. He took another, the two finishing the can in a few minutes.

“That was good! I am curious to know what it was.” Neliah let out a small chuckle.

“Lung of toladipus.”

“He’s at 95%. You need to get out of here.”

“Will you be alright?”

“Sure, I’ll be fine. There’s really only a few scenarios. One, he wakes up and he’s no longer an assassin. Two, he still thinks he’s an assassin, but I shoot him in the knee, knock him out, and try again. Or three, he kills me.” Jack hated the odds, but bid her farewell and good luck. He climbed the stairs, silently moving to the opposite side of the top stair when he reached the ground level and laying flat on the ground. He drew his gun, ready should Neliah’s handiwork fail. All was silent for what felt like an eternity.

There were several small metallic clangs that sounded like the tools falling, followed by a larger thud and a robotic noise of confusion.

“Babe?” Jack sighed, allowing a smile to cross his face.

“I’m here. How are you?” Neliah’s voice shared the same glimmer of hope.

“I feel like my head’s been put through the compacter, babe. It’s fading though and … there’s nothing else there. Feelin’ a little empty, babe.” There was a long pause. “But in a good way! It’s just me, babe, if that makes any sense.” Neliah responded, but Jack could not make out the words. Scaramouche’s voice dropped the next time he spoke, the entire conversation reverting to indecipherable words. Jack was about to call down to make the same offer to Scaramouche, but he heard one last phrase. The words were in French, but he picked up the word for ‘love’ before two gun shots rang out.

Jack stifled a gasp so as not to give away his position. He resumed the stance, waiting for the robot to appear. Heart pounding in his ears, it took a while to hear the faint pleas.

“I’m sorry, babe. I’m so sorry.” Jack was not quite sure robots could cry, but he had no other word for the strange noise drifting from the basement lab. He waited nearly ten more minutes before silently making his way around the trap door to the stairs. Peering down, he could see Scaramouche had his back to the stair well. Soundlessly, he descended.

Scaramouche had his arms wrapped around her lifeless body, one holding her head against his chest, the other around her back. Her body had been pulled into his lap, and he rocked them both slowly, apologizing softly. The robot stopped moving when Jack touched the gun to the back of his head.

“You killed her.” A shutter seemed to run through the robot.

“You don’t understand, Sammy baby. She was in so much pain! Do you know how long she’s been suffering, babe?” His question was more of an accusation.

“We could have found her help,” Jack growled, finger twitching on the trigger.

“No, babe. There was no help. She was dying.” He gingerly brushed the hair out of her peaceful face. “No doctor could cure her. Her father tortured her with some sort of chemicals. She survived, but her body is disintegrating. Those pills she was taking … they’re what you give to someone who’s dying to make them comfortable, babe. You don’t just get those prescribed! She had a doctor friend somewhere who must have pitied her. Even if I let her live, she only has enough for one or two more days, then it’s pure agony until we find another place. But for what, babe? She had a few weeks left, at best, she said.”

“Her arm’s gone, half her leg’s gone. You can tell her other leg’s going. She’s lucky she still had full use of one hand, babe! I mean … I’m lucky that …” he trailed off. “Her organs, too. She was falling apart in front of us, lying through her teeth, baby. She … she made sure she had enough pills to operate on me. That ‘morning sickness,’ babe? That was withdrawal when she skipped the second one for a few days. I d-didn’t even see it until … Babe, I just kept making it worse. I couldn’t stop myself! And then … she fixed me.” Jack had lowered his gun, stepping around the robot so he could see him eye to eye. Scaramouche still had his head leaning on the top of hers. Blood covered the robot’s hand on her back.

“Did she ask you to kill her?” Jack’s voice waivered. Scaramouche shook his head.

“I offered, babe. She would never do that to me. She … she said better me than let someone have the s-s-satisfaction.” Scaramouche let out another sob before his eyes flared open, angry.

“She didn’t deserve this! All she ever wanted was to learn and build things. Happy things, babe! Not monsters … like me. She wasn’t like the lot of them. She wanted me to be safe … to be happy … and babe, I could have been. We were going to get away before they reprogrammed me. I wouldn’t have killed, babe, but I could wield a sword. With her sharp shooting, we could have made it. Could have, babe … and I ruined it. They told me they had wronged me, and wanted to make it up. Said they would remove the pain function and wipe my memory of it. Lies, babe. They lied to me! They just reprogrammed me, suppressing the real me with the assassin program. They let me watch as they tortured her, testing all the new chemicals. The assassin loved every minute.” Had Neliah been alive, she might have yelped at the tight squeeze Scaramouche pulled her in.

“They sold me to Aku after a while. Said they didn’t need me anymore, babe. Not long after I left, I heard they had … well, Voltiare isn’t a liar. Sammy, baby, you gotta believe me. She was good! She wouldn’t have done it if there was another choice!” He was sobbing again, rocking gently.

“Come on,” Jack touched his shoulder. “Let’s give her a proper burial.” He nodded, rising slowly, holding Neliah tight. He followed Jack up the stairs and into the night.

“She would have been happier here, babe. She would … She’d have been alive still.” The last half came out bitter. Scaramouche wondered around the lab, finding a location that satisfied him as Jack went in search of a pair of shovels. He returned nearly a half hour later, finding Scaramouche on the back of the lab near a burnt tree. Neliah was still hugged against him. He glanced up when Jack stepped closer, planting a soft kiss on the top of Neliah’s head before he sat her down gently.

They dug without speaking. When the hole was deep enough, Jack climbed out. Scaramouche stood in the pit for a few more moments. He pulled himself out, picking up Neliah, and lowering her into the fresh grave. His metal fingers brushed the hair from her face and smoothed her clothes. Jack was inclined to believe Scaramouche’s story, seeing as Neliah looked peaceful, even in death.

“Would you … like to say any last words?” The robot shook his head. He pushed the first shovelful of dirt back into the hole, then turned and began walking away. Jack smelt the burnt oil as he hurried past, disappearing on the other side of the building.

Jack let a single tear roll down his face as he finished the deed. He whispered a pray over the grave, wiping the dirt from his hands as he went in search of Scaramouche.

The robot had not gone far, sitting on the ground by the front of the lab. The black oil had left new stains on the front of his jacket along with Neliah’s blood. Jack sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Neliah said you wouldn’t want to, but you are welcome to join me.” Scaramouche let out a hollow laugh.

“She knew me, well babe. Only one who ever did. You know why she had that little tool, babe? She made it for me, after they would experiment on me. Knew I would be better off in stasis on the nights when the pain was too bad.”

“Is there something I can do for you?” Scaramouche just shook his head.

“I have your other sword, if you want it back,” Jack added.

“Keep it, Sammy baby. I won’t need it any more. Take what you want from her bike as well. I’m done, babe.” Jack waited until the sun rose before he stood and spared a last farewell. Scaramouche raised his hand in a single wave as Jack mounted his motorcycle and continued north to whatever fate awaited him.

#Samurai Jack #Scaramouch #Scaramouche #tw: torture #tw: violence #fan fiction

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hilmihisham · 7 years ago

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#95: Of scatterbrain, empty brain, and no brain.

5 days into a new year and I still put my life on autopilot currently..

No, really..

Had a good winter break so far, I could say - mates coming over to LA, filled my times and emptied my reserved energy bank (not that I’m complaining, I’m happy), at least making my bleak, dreadful, tiring, head-banging heart-crushing 2017 a bit happier at the end.

Well, studying is hard, and I’ve been doing that non-stop for the whole 2017 (well, not really whole, but you get the idea). Maxed out the possible amount of credit units that I could take during Spring and Fall, and taking classes on both session of Summer and denied myself (or actually, got denied) of a bit of a Summer break. I’m tired, really..

..and I’ll repeat all of that again this year, too, with much more classes..

Forget maxing out, I had to overflow myself with classes on this Spring and Fall (gotta apply to register for more units than what had been normally allocated) and gonna max out how many classes that I could possibly take during Summer.

I got no time!

Contracts, ugh.. =..=

But oh well, that’s the hardship of studying. At least, it’s only for one more year only.. I’ve survived (although barely) the similar in 2017, so I can do it again (and with much, much better outcome).

Yeah, really begging for your prayers and du’a so that I won’t need to repeat any class anymore this year and nothing will be in between me graduating and getting my degree at the end of this year. Thank you, thank you.

Well, let’s change the tone here a bit. The hardship will stays the same, no matter how many time I said it out loud, let’s get over and get done with it, no?

It has been an empty year so far..

Yeah, I’ve been reading and finishing books during my alone time in this winter break, I’ve been playing games, watching animes and whatnot, but waking up every morning the same question arise: “nak buat apa hari ni?”.

I’ve got so much stuff that I can do in front of me, unsure of what to do, and ended up doing nothing (or at least pondering which book should I read next instead of actually reading the damn book hahaha).

Well, in a sense, this is the time of the year that I’ve been waiting for to get a hella lot of break and qada’ back my sleep, in which I totally lacked of from all that hectic 2017 I’ve told ya before. Tapi itu lah, bila dah asyik tidur ja seharian, terkadang rasa bosan pulak tidur. But then katil punya magnet tu lain macam dan membuatkan aku kembali baring dan tidur lagi satu round..

Mungkin aku punya brain defensive mechanism pun main peranan juga rasanya - bila dah banyak sangat benda yang aku nak buat, dia subconsciously ignore semua benda tu, tolak tepi segala isu untuk kemudian hari lalu terus shut down dah sambung tidur lagi dan lagi hahaha..

But I’ve been keeping myself alive dengan buku. Dragged myself to nearest Starbucks, tinggalkan laptop dekat rumah dan hanya ditemani dengan kopi dan buku.. Yeah, laptop ni sebenarnya yang bawa penyakit - walaupun dah habis baca semua artikel dari news outlets yang aku frequent, aku masih boleh stare at the blank “New Tab” page sampai bosan, tutup tab tu dan bukak another New Tab page dan tenung bagai nak bocor untuk satu jam lagi..

I can’t understand my brain sometimes..

..or maybe that’s why I’m in a Computer Science in the first place.. For the most part of my life, hidup aku sama je dengan hidup komputer aku - bangun je aku dari tidur maka terhidup la juga laptop aku; tertutupnya laptop aku maka habislah sudah satu hari aku dan aku pun bangkit dari duduk bersila untuk berbaring tidur dan ulang rutin yang sama esok..

Gila tader life.

Dan oleh kerana aku dah bawak laptop ke Starbucks hari ni, maka terhasil la post ni.. just tryna regain my life back together and get the sense that I’m doing something this winter break hahaha.. Kurang la sikit rasa bersalah tu bila nanti fikir balik aku asyik tidur je break ni..

Jadi, untuk mengakhiri post #95 ni, marilah kita bina resolusi tahun baru (aku jarang buat benda ni sebenarnya tapii tak nak post ni habis tak bermakna, why not la kan haha)..

Save more money (than usual), and let’s graduate!

#text

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newcatwords · 7 years ago

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book review: “Kanaka ʻōiwi methodologies : moʻolelo and metaphor” (part two)

this is part 2 of a review of Kanaka ‘Oiwi Methodologies: Mo’olelo and Metaphor, edited by Katrina-Ann R Kapāʻanaokalāokeola Nākoa Oliveira and Erin Kahunawaikaʻala Wright.

read part 1 here.

as in the first section, i’ll be sharing some of the notes i made as i was reading each chapter.

“Mo’olelo for Transformative Leadership: Lessons from Engaged Practice” by Kaiwipunikauikawekiu Lipe

this chapter deals with the problem of education and research in a predominantly non-Hawaiian institution (University of Hawai’i at Manoa).

the author shares her personal history and discusses how she did her doctoral research which focused on the question “How can the University of Hawai’i at Manoa (UHM), a predominantly non-Hawaiian university, be transformed into a Hawaiian place of learning?”

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on ‘olelo no’eau (hawaiian proverbs and sayings):

“Since I was a little girl, ‘olelo no’eau have been both fun and useful. It is always exciting to learn an ‘olelo no’eau because it usually captures a longer mo’olelo and collection of lessons in one or two easily memorizable phrases: An ‘olelo no’eau is a secret password or code into a rich, captivating mo’olelo that folks can easily share and refer to. At the same time, an ’olelo no’eau is always useful because once it is known and understood, when it is referred to, everyone can automatically connect to the meaning, lessons, and mo’olelo captured within it.” (this oncept is perfectly explored in the star trek the new generation episiode “darmok” )

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“...I have also learned to share my own mo’olelo for the purpose of imparting a lesson, special memory, or experience with others.” i do this also all the time, especially in my anti-sexism/cultural studies/empathy work with others. i’ve discovered that this is often the best way to get through to folks who would otherwise not understand, folks who are not accustomed to seeing things from the perspective of other people. one reason why i value hawaiian scholarship is because of its focus on the use of stories for education and for its thorough exploration of the various elements that go into effective storytelling for learning. for some kinds of knowledge, only stories seem to do! for example, all the facts in the world about sexism will not help someone who doesn’t understand that there’s a patriarchy and that what is being asked of them is to share anger at injustice, as per michael mark cohen. additionally, hawaiian scholarship that i’ve read doesn’t just state this info about stories, but reveals this truth through stories - they tell stories where the lesson is that stories are great, and because it’s a story, it sticks in the mind, which is one of the main reasons why stories are great for education: a good story sticks in the memory really well (like a good song, which is one form of story). a good story also often proves itself relevant and useful in many situations. when you’re with people who don’t know the story and they are puzzling over an issue the story helps with, you can tell the story (which, because it’s a story, is easy to remember because it’s a good story). a good story that’s useful to people will be told because the teller wants to share the good info with others. an example of a story like that: if you went on a trip to a certain place and it turns out that the road was washed out at a particular spot where you weren’t expecting it. you meet someone who’s going on the same trip, you tell them about how you were just there last week and the road was washed out. it took you an hour to find a way around, but now you can tell your friend and they can avoid having to deal with the hole. the story has useful info and is easy to remember because it comes in the form of a story (as something that happened to you on your trip, etc.)

i’ve found that personal stories are most effective in sharing some kinds of knowledges, but often the stories are ones of sad and/or painful things from my past. when a person isn’t getting the trauma of something like not being able to find a job, or being abused, or being harassed, it’s hard to have to shit out your personal experiences of being abused or having no money or being humiliated and feeling violated. often i have to share multiple stories for the person to get the point (because especially with systemic injustice, the constant recurring nature of the injustice and the cumulative effect of all the previous injustices is a big part of how it messes you up (aka the trauma)). so it’s hard to have a person stare blank-faced at you as you tell them that being abused is hard, and it’s also hard to deploy your own painful history (no matter how over it you are, it can still be sad to think of shit things that have happened to you) for their education. in the best cases you end up a little sad remembering how you (or people you care about) suffered/suffer and sad that so many people still don’t see “what the big deal is” in this suffering. in the worst case, you get re-traumatized all over again. i still do it because for now it’s still worth it to me. i am actively engaged in one-on-one informal education projects with specific people whose lives i have decided to share, and i use the stories because life is short and so far it’s the best way i’ve found to have the person understand where i’m coming from. but it is a shitty cost and i want to find a solution for this problem.

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“Although I engaged in mo’olelo all my life as foundational forms of teaching and learning methodology, mele, oli, hula, ‘olelo no’eau, and storytelling were almost never used or invited into the classroom in the doctoral program I attended in a Western, predominantly non-Hawaiian higher education institution.”

---

the author was moved by the concept of survivance by Gerald Vizenor, but wanted to develop a concept that was specific to the Hawaiian context:

“I thought of Indigenous scholars such as Dr. Graham Smith (2003), who argues that Indigenous peoples must move beyond the terms and processes of decolonization and look to our own traditions and cultures to rediscover what is innately in us. Similarly, I thought of Dr. Pualani Kanaka’ole Kanahele (2012), who reminds us that our ancestors live within us and that the knowledge and experiences of our ancestors are passed down from generation to generation through DNA. But inviting this ‘ike kupuna (ancestral knowledge) into the academy - and having the confidence to do so - was often difficult and daunting because I was constantly bombarded by Western theory, literature, and methodologies. Little, if any, space was made for Indigenous knowledge systems (Lipe 2013).”

Lipe has created a framework that’s similar to the idea of survivance but that comes from her own culture: ‘a’ali’i ku makani. ‘a’ali’i is a plant native to hawaii. being ‘a’ali’i is what the author suggests we all need to become in order to “transform UHM into a Hawaiian place of learning.”

she tells this story:

“When I was little, my mother often taught me chants during long car rides. This helped the time pass and invited me into another realm of Hawai’i. ... During my doctoral journey...I was also fulfilling my responsibilities as a mother. One of those responsibilities was driving my children to school, an hour-long commute from where we lived. During those car rides, we often chanted and sang Hawaiian songs to pass the time, engaging in the tradition of mo’olelo en route passed down by my mother.

On one particular morning, as I made my way onto H-1 East from Likelike Highway, I happened to be chanting Maewa i ka Hao Mai a ka Makani by Kainani Kahaunaele (1997) to my children:...”

Similar to what we saw in Dr. Lopes’ chapter (see part one), the ideas present in the chant led Dr. Lipe to come up with the ‘a’ali’i metaphor/methodology.

the main section of the chapter includes excerpts from interviews with two women the author did research with who, she argues, exemplify the concept of ‘a’ali’i ku makani. you’ll have to get the book to read them. i encourage you to do so!!!

“Indeed, the women are ‘a’ali’i. First, they are deeply rooted in Hawai’i. Then they draw strength from that rootedness and become flexible, resilient, beautiful women who, every day, live into survivance. Specifically, they withstand challenging environments and, using their ‘a’ali’i qualities, manage to bloom and transform currently contentious, racist environments back into Hawaiian places of learning.”

“I share these stories for three main reasons. First, I want to demonstrate how the ‘a’ali’i ku makani framework, informed by oli and ‘olelo no’eau, illuminated the ‘a’ali’i qualities and life cycle within the mo’olelo of the women. Second, I re-present their stories to demonstrate the importance of mo’olelo aku, mo’olelo mai - sharing and receiving stories - as a methodology, because when we value narratives and take the time to study them, so much can be learned. As each of us reads the mo’olelo of the two kumu, we each glean both similar and unique lessons based on who each of us are and our own life experiences. However, we can only connect to the mo’olelo if we take the time to learn from them, which requires us to first value mo’olelo and then to spend time with them.”

“Ka Wai Ola: The Life-Sustaining Water of Kanaka Knowledge” by Katrina-Ann R. Kapa’anaokalaokeola Nakoa Oliveira

the author begins with the metaphor of streams, ‘auwai (”irrigation ditches that divert some of the water from the stream into lo’i and then channel it back to the stream.) this picture may help you visualize ‘auwai if you’re not familiar with the concept:

[this image is from http://www.hawaiihistory.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=ig.page&CategoryID=299 ]

there’s an excellent section on maps & the difficulty of discussing concepts across languages:

“Not only do I write in two languages but my complementary academic backgrounds also inform my scholarship. As a geographer by training and a kumu ‘olelo Hawai’i [ed: master teacher of the Hawaiian language] by profession, I have faced the dual challenges of writing ma ka ‘olelo Hawai’i about non-Kanaka constructs such as “mapping” and “cartographic representations” and writing in English while liberally incorporating ‘olelo Hawai’i terms. How does one write ma ka ‘olelo Hawai’i about non-Kanaka concepts? How does one write about Kanaka mapping practices for instance, when the word for map, ‘palapala ‘aina’ (land document), reflects a non-Kanaka construct? That is, although ancestral Kanaka did have methods for locating themselves on the landscape, these methods did not include two-dimensional line drawings on paper until postcontact times. Before their use of maps, Kanaka employed ‘performance cartographies’ or what I like to call ‘wisdom maps’. Through hula, mele (poetry), mo’olelo (historical accounts), and other modes of performance, ancestral Kanaka were able to embed in the minds of their audience an image of the places celebrated in the hula, mele, and mo’olelo.”

---

part three

back to part one

#hawaiianstudies #hawaii #bookreview

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snow-slayer · 8 years ago

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Here’s a sneak peek at my next story. Trying my hand with some Scaramouch Samurai Jack fanfiction.

“Never Better”

“Stand down.” The robot merely laughed, although Jack was not surprised by the action. Trying to command the eight foot tall assassin was a woman hardly five feet tall and weaponless as far as Jack could tell. She didn’t seem concerned, standing with both hands tucked casually into her pockets.

“Didn’t think you’d see me again, did you, Sammy baby? I’m not so easy to kill.”

“I said stand down,” the woman repeated flatly.

“Relax, babe. I can take him.” He draws the sword on his back, giving it a few test swings as Jack draws his gun, aiming it at the center of Scaramouch’s chest. Suddenly, the robot grabs his head, the sword falling harmlessly to the ground, followed shortly by the robot himself.

“Uhh, babe! Stop!” he moaned out, rolling to his side and bring his knees up to his chest. Jack cast a glance at the woman. He could see her left hand move slightly, and guessed that she had some device in her pocket that was administering the pain. Slowly, the robot regained his composure, dragging back to his feet. He sheathed his sword and shook his head.

“Sorry. Didn’t meant to startle you. We’re still … working things out.” Scaramouch had retreated, still caressing his head with one hand as he muttered under his breath. “The name’s Neliah.”

“Jack.” He cast an eye around their campsite. He had seen their campfire as he was traveling, leaving his bike to investigate on foot. As he had drawn near, he heard the familiar voice, although he did not know how that was possible, having thought Scaramouch thoroughly destroyed.

“Nice to meet you in person. Only heard terrible things about you, of course.” She shuffled closer to the campfire, rotating the meat on the spit.

“Why don’t you ask him to stay, babe? I’m sure he’d love to hear all the things you’ve done. Like all the people you’ve hurt, all the weapons you’ve helped make. Makes me look like a kitten, babe.”

“I needed fire power. That’s why I put him back together, if you were wondering.” Jack cast another glance towards the robot who had begun pacing by the tent.

“Won’t let me kill anything, Sammy baby. Can’t see why she wants to torment me.”

“I added a few safety precautions until I can do a full reboot and remove the assassin program.”

“Nothing to remove, babe. I was made this way.”

“What are you planning?” Jack’s hand inched towards his gun as Scaramouch finally meandered closer to the fire.

“I’m tracking the beetle drones manufacturing plants. The largest one is said to be out this way.” She pointed towards the east. “I only have a general location. We’re going to destroy it to slow down production in addition to destroying their newest weapon creation. There’s been rumors circulating that there’s a new mind controlling device in production which could potentially work on robots and humans. If it gets completed, that will give Aku or anyone who gets there hand on it unlimited soldiers, soulless shells that follow his every whim.”

“Wouldn’t you know, babe? Must have been fun making the first designs,” Scaramouch laid on his chest, feeding twigs to the fire.

“I don’t have the power or resources to do it on my own. There’s a few towns between here and there, so I was hoping to gather some materials to make some explosives.” Neliah took the roast off, offering it to Jack so he could take half. Pulling a small half, Neliah took the stick back, tearing of chunks off with her teeth.

“How far along is production on the weapon?” Jack posed hesitantly.

“They’re supposedly testing in the next month.”

“And how far away is the factory?”

“I don’t know. I’m guess a week maybe a week and a half.”

“I would be willing to join you to destroy the factory.”

The sun stabbed them in the eyes as they crossed the empty plains. Jack felt more on edge, having only had two hours of sleep. The damned robot talked all night, mostly degrading Neliah, only stopping when one of the plates used to piece him back together came undone and Neliah had to force him into stasis to make the repair. She mentioned that she could wake him, but Jack did not protest when she decided to let his system cool down for a few hours. Still, Jack slept fitfully, not knowing enough about Neliah to trust her, but fearing the worst if he left. Scaramouch was deadly, and all he would have to do is sneak up on her and steal the device that was keeping him at bay.

Pacing Neliah on her own bike, he kept his eyes on Scaramouch. The robot was chained to the back at Jack’s demand, yelling over the motor. Jack thought he looked bored. Occasionally, they would meet eyes, Scaramouch making lewd gestures or giving him bedroom eyes. Jack came to appreciate Neliah’s patience. In the distance, a town finally appeared on the horizon. Jack watched as Neliah angled towards it. They came to a stop on the outskirts.

“Desolate. Looks like the beetle drones ravaged this place. There’s no carnage. Not much of anything.” Neliah had dismounted, staring down the baron streets. The buildings were still standing, although they looked wind buffeted and unused. Scaramouch had already begun strolling down the main street, commenting the he would have done better, especially with his tuning sword.

“Good thing he lost it,” Neliah turned to Jack, giving him a wink before she followed after the robot. Jack kept pace with her, forcing himself to take smaller steps so as not to overpass her.

“You can go on ahead. I’m a bit on the slow side. Bad joints and such.” Jack nodded, trailing the robot, who periodically swept inside a building to explore the interiors. After an two hours of wondering, and countless complaints of the humans taking too long, they returned to the entrance empty handed.

They traveled east again, the sun at their backs. The beginning of another forest provided an excellent camping location. Even with Scaramouch’s constant chattering, Jack managed to catch a few creatures to feast on. Neliah pulled out a can of oil from her bike, which Scaramouch scarfed down in seconds. Crumpling the can when it was drained, he threw it at Neliah as she began cooking. He still flashed Jack a grin, pacing the perimeter of their campsite. Scaramouch bored of talking to himself after an hour, taking a seat next to Neliah.

“What’s wrong, Sammy baby? Do I make you nervous? Do I make your skin crawl?” Jack eased his hand from the gun hoister, slowly chewing on the roast as he kept his eyes on the robot. Scaramouch’s grin was splitting across his whole face. Faster than Jack could get to his feet, Scaramouch had grabbed Neliah’s left arm, flinging her away a few feet. He was on top of her, tearing at her pocket and rolling away.

“You shouldn’t do this.”

“Oh, trust me, babe, I’ve been waiting for days for this opportunity. You thought that Jack here would protect you and you let your guard down. I’m going to enjoy this, babe. Au revior.” He drew his sword again, not an ounce of hesitation as he stepped forward. The sword was raised above his head as he prepared to recreate the movement Jack had done to him. His face went blank, the blue eyes vanishing as his mouth opened in surprise. A black substance began leaking over his lower lips before he began to scream.

Neliah walked over to his fallen form, pulling a device from her back pocket, which she touched to his temples.

“I’m sorry. I had to incorporate a failsafe should the remote be destroyed. Unfortunately, I cannot control the duration of the pain on this one. It will fade when you stop attempting to murder a sentient creature.” The device in her hand seemed to help, as Scaramouch stopped convulsing so wildly, his cries of pain fading.

“I don’t want this, babe.” His voice had lost the arrogant edge Jack was used to. “I don’t want to be like this.”

“I know. I know, Scaramouch. When we finish the mission, we’ll find a lab and I’ll remove the fail safe and give you a full reset. I’ll take out the assassin coding, too.”

“So I can do what I want, babe?”

“Yes, I’ll let you make your own choices. I promise.” A wave of the black burnt smelling substances tumbled of his lips again as he let out another cry.

“Please. Please … make it stop, babe.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a little startled. Good to see the failsafe works.” She let out a hollow laugh rubbing her own temple with her hand.

“Why did he sound so different?

“It’s the original coding coming through. The assassination program seems to falter when he’s in severe pain. It doesn’t last though. He’ll be back to the new normal in the morning.”

“He’s still a murderer.” Neliah sighed, letting out another shaky laugh.

“He’s the only family I have left.”

“Yet, you put him back together.”

“What do you mean by saying he’s your family? Did you build him?” Jack couldn’t help the accusatory note that was creeping into his voice.

��I helped, yes. I guess it was … twenty years ago, give or take. I was about ten. Not really old enough to be a lab assistant, but I was anyway. My family’s been building robots for years. My grandmother perfected the personality chip with the first successful usage in X9. My father started working on the next phase.”

“His circuits held up to the initial pleasure test, something that the others hadn’t. For a while, I guess it was nice for him. They’d experiment for hours, inducing simple pleasures. A hug, a handshake, stuff like that, although I’m sure it became … more erotic later on. My father was … well, eccentric’s putting it nice. I was spared this viewing. Then the second half of the experiments began.”

“Pain,” Jack guessed. Neliah nodded slowly, casting an eye to make sure the robot was still asleep.

“It changed him. I used to know him before, and he was alright. A little too talkative, a little too hands on, but he wasn’t like this. Every day, for years, the house would be filled with his screaming and pleas. They would leave him strapped into a table for days on end, administering different types of shocks and recording the results to build others like him.”

“Why not just leave out the pain?”

“Are there others like him?” Jack demanded.

“No. That was my first act of rebellion. I destroyed the research. They never made another like him and they won’t ever.”

#tw: torture #samurai jack #scaramouch #fan fiction #It's a first draft so it'll need some editing.

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