#the name recognition alone makes it far different than writing an oc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beewolfwrites · 4 years ago

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And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter One: The Edge of a Diving Board

Hello everyone!

So I haven’t used my Tumblr account in years, but I recently binge watched Alice in Borderland not too long ago and like any sane person, I realised that it was pretty darn amazing.. and that Chishiya was hands-down one of the best characters in the show.

So while I'm still riding the AIB wave, I decided to dig out my old Tumblr and write something!

This is just the first chapter, and you can find it here on AO3 too. To be honest, it’s probably better on AO3 because the formatting is a little funny on here.

I’ve written it in first person, but avoided giving the main character a name, so it can either read as a Chishiya x OC or as a reader-insert depending on how you prefer :)

Please let me know what you think, and if you do read it, thank you!

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It was David Foster Wallace who put it best. The world was one big queue leading up to a diving board. You took your place in line, climbed the rankings, and once you got to the top? The end. Process over. Because that’s how life really is: breathe, work, jump off the edge. You fulfil a function and then you’re gone forever.

At least, that’s how I’d always seen it. But the Borderlands changed all of that. Suddenly I was being pushed towards the edge of the diving board when I had thought I was still in the queue.

It happened all at once. I had been in an apartment, laughing over drinks with my brother and his friends. It was our first time in Japan, and we were only visiting for a four-day summer trip. I had only been allowed to go on the premise that he was there. Looking back now, I wish we had chosen Brussels or Amsterdam.

The last time I saw my brother, he was laughing with his friends as I closed the bathroom door behind me. I had turned to the sink, taking a moment to splash cool water on my face.

And that was when the lights went out.

‘Power cut’, I muttered, fumbling around for the door handle and re-entering the living room.

The apartment was dark and cold. I was alone.

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Tokyo almost looked beautiful without electricity at night, like a ghost city paused in time.

‘Hey!‘ I yelled through the empty streets. ‘誰か’ Anyone?

My Japanese was limited at best, but I had to try. I had to find someone. There was no way this could’ve been a prank. A whole population doesn’t just vanish into thin air, it’s simply not possible.

‘Hey, Is anyone there?’ I tried again.

As if on cue, a light cut through the darkness. I couldn’t help but squint at the large white screen projected across a desolate building. I couldn’t read any of the kanji, but there was one word that stood out clear as day.

GAME

What is this? I asked myself.

Suddenly, the screen changed, this time sporting an arrow pointing to the right. I tried to read the hiragana, but it seemed there was no need. Another light appeared in the distance, glowing ominously over the tops of buildings.

I guess I have to go that way, I thought. Perhaps there’s some kind of big event on and everyone’s gone to watch.

I made my way to the source of the light, which turned out to be an old furniture store. In this sea of darkness, it was as if the electricity had pooled entirely into one two-storey building.

There can’t be an event in a place like this. Where is everyone?

On a wall was a smaller sign with an arrow pointing into the store.

GAME – こちらです

Hesitantly, I followed the arrow up the steps leading to the door. Inside, the hallway was fully lit. The walls were decorated with mirrors and printed canvases, their price tags and sale stickers still attached. Passing beneath an arch that led into a large room, I heard a tiny bleep. It was almost inaudible, but I knew I hadn’t imagined it.

As I peered around, looking for the source of the noise, a voice spoke.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’

I jumped, turning on my heels.

Leaning inconspicuously against a wall, a man was staring at me curiously. He was wearing a sleeveless grey top and looked to be in his thirties. He didn’t look like it, but perhaps he was the shop owner?

I stepped forward, intent on asking for help. However, I must’ve moved too quickly in my excitement, as my arm wavered, knocking a tiny vase with an artificial flower off a table.

It rolled across the ground, but before I could apologise and pick it up a neon red laser cut through the vase, leaving a singed hole in the plastic soil.

‘I told you not to do that,’ the man repeated, huffing.

I stared, wordless, at the destroyed flower. Lasers? What the hell kind of game was this?

‘Newbie, hm? This’ll be easy.’

It was a new voice this time. Another man, slightly younger, was reclining back in an armchair. I hadn’t noticed him until now as his green shirt blended into the furniture fabric.

‘A foreigner, too. How lucky,’ Green Shirt said.

My mind scrambled to piece together what Japanese it could.

‘すみません… 何がこれ？皆んながどこですか’ Excuse me, what is this? Where is everyone?

Green Shirt raised a brow, whereas the first man huffed once more.

‘It’s a game. You’ve just got to follow the rules.’ He gestured his thumb to a small side table where there were a several phones lined up. ‘You need to take one before registration closes.’

On second inspection, I noticed that they were both clasping phones tightly in their hands. Maybe this was part of the game? Approaching the table, I picked up a smart phone, finding that it sprung to life immediately with a face recognition screen.

‘FACE REGISTRATION IN PROCESS.

PLEASE WAIT FOR THE GAME TO COMMENCE’

A timer on the screen began to tick down from two minutes. Around me, I could feel the two men watching my every move. They seemed to be sussing me out, although I couldn’t figure out what for. Surely, since everyone in Tokyo disappeared, we should all band together and find others.

‘REGISTRATION CLOSED. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.’

This time, the voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once, as if through an invisible sound system. I looked around at the ceiling, trying to find the speakers, when I realised that at the back of the room all of the furniture had been moved aside to make way for a large circular table and four chairs. In the centre of the table was a stack of cards.

‘GAME – RUMMY

DIFFICULTY – FOUR OF DIAMONDS

TIME LIMIT – ONE HOUR’

Four of Diamonds?

I looked at the phone in my hand, where a picture of the aforementioned card flashed up. None of it made sense. And what did playing cards have to do with this?

The first man and Green Shirt both got up and made their way to the table at the back, leaving me no choice but to follow. They seemed to know what was going on better than I did. The three of us each took a seat, only I chose to a sit as far as possible from the other two. Judging from the deck in the middle of the table, we’d be playing a card game, and I didn’t want anybody close enough to see my hand.

The overhead voice continued.

‘RULES –

PLAYERS MUST COMPLETE A SINGLE GAME OF RUMMY.

THE OBJECTIVE IS TO CLEAR ALL CARDS FROM YOUR HAND. THE FIRST PLAYER TO CLEAR THEIR HAND IS THE WINNER.

THE DECK HAS ALREADY BEEN SHUFFLED.

PLAYERS MUST DESIGNATE ONE PERSON TO BE THE DEALER.

TURNS ARE TAKEN COUNTER-CLOCKWISE, FROM THE LEFT OF THE DEALER.

EACH PLAYER STARTS WITH SEVEN CARDS. AFTER THE CARDS HAVE BEEN DEALT, THE FIRST CARD IN THE DECK MUST BE TURNED OVER AND USED TO START A SEPARATE DISCARD PILE.

PLAYERS MUST ALWAYS DRAW ONE CARD FROM THE PILE, AND DISCARD ONE CARD PER TURN.

PLAYERS MAY PICK UP A CARD FROM THE DISCARD PILE, HOWEVER YOU CANNOT DISCARD THE SAME CARD IN THAT TURN.

PLAYERS MUST CREATE SEQUENCES OF THREE TO FOUR CARDS ARRANGED BY EITHER NUMBER OR SUITE. IF A SET OF THREE OR MORE CARDS IS CREATED, THE PLAYER MAY CHOOSE TO LAY IT DOWN IN FRONT OF THEM.

PLAYERS CAN ADD TO OTHERS’ SEQUENCES PROVIDED THEY HAVE BEEN LAID DOWN ON THE TABLE.

ACE MAY ONLY COUNT AS ONE.

JOKERS CAN BE USED IN PLACE OF ANY CARD.

CLEAR CONDITION – BE THE WINNER.’

Okay, I thought, mulling it over. Okay…

I hadn’t understood most of what the voice had said, but I could pick up enough that I figured it was just a game of standard Rummy. I had never played the game before, and I only knew of it through John Steinbeck’s characters. But I had played something similar, a card-melding game that my parents had taught me when I was a small child. I’d played it countless times, and I knew it like the back of my hand. Sure enough, these rules were slightly different, but it was still a card-melding game, all the same.

I looked up at the two men opposite me. They appeared confused, despite their attempts to hide it. Green Shirt gazed at me curiously, then smirked.

Oh…

‘A foreigner, too? How lucky.’

His previous words rang in my memory. Judging by the way the two men were looking at me, they were both counting on my inability to understand the rules. They were assuming I had no idea how to play, or even what rules were just read out. And yet, the brief glimpses of confusion in their expressions told me everything: they had never played a card-melding game before.

So they’ve already decided that they have the advantage?

I tried not to smile.

‘Do you know how to play?’ the first man asked me.

I paused, considering how I should answer. I didn’t know exactly what the stakes were, but judging by the laser I had just seen, losing the game couldn’t be good. In any case, I decided to keep my cards close to my chest.

‘このガームは知らない.’ I’ve never heard of this game before.

I was aware that my Japanese probably sounded like it came straight from a textbook, but in this situation, I couldn’t care less.

The first man nodded. He looked at Green Shirt, and said, ‘I’ll be the dealer then, if that’s okay?’

Green Shirt just shrugged and sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Hurry up then. The clock’s ticking.’

Sure enough, my phone displayed a timer which read 57 minutes. I didn’t want to find out what happened if we didn’t have a clear winner by the time it hit zero.

The first man picked up the deck, dishing out seven cards each before returning the stack to the centre. He took the first card and turned it over on the table, beginning the discard pile. Picking up a card from the deck, the first man began his turn.

I didn’t pay attention to what he was doing, as I needed to focus on the cards currently in my hand.

King of Spades

Three of Hearts

King of Diamonds

Five of Clubs

Ace of Hearts

Nine of Diamonds

Eight of Clubs

It wasn’t bad. Or at least, it could’ve been a lot worse. The two kings stuck out immediately as a potential meld. I could certainly build around them. However, another thought came to mind. If Rummy was anything like the game I had learned as a child, it meant that players could add to each other’s melds once they were on the table. In that case, I would have to avoid creating sets of consecutive numbers within the same suite, as a three-card combination in this kind of meld would leave two openings for the others to get rid of their cards, rather than just the one.

Glancing up, I noticed it was Green Shirt’s turn, promptly ended as he threw an Ace of Spades into the discard pile.

That meant it was my turn next.

I eyed the Ace he just discarded and remembered hearing the overhead voice say something about Aces. But there was no time to think about it; the other two were watching me closely and waiting for me to pick up a card.

I reached out to the deck.

Seven of Diamonds.

Technically I could’ve used it in conjunction with my nine, but it was too risky. I didn’t have time to wait around in hopes of picking up an Eight of Diamonds. Plus, I’d already decided against consecutive sets.

I tossed it into the discard pile.

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The game continued for longer than I would’ve liked it to. The clock was ticking, ticking, ticking, and now read 17 minutes.

So far, my hand had started to come together.

King of Spades

King of Diamonds

King of Hearts

Nine of Diamonds

Nine of Spades

Five of Clubs

Ace of Hearts

I could’ve laid down my kings on the table. But there was only three cards in the meld, meaning one of the others could add the remaining king from their own hand. Across from me, neither of the other two had laid down any cards, and until they did, I couldn’t add anything to their melds either.

Green Shirt then took his turn and picked up a card. He glanced once at me, then threw a Nine of Diamonds onto the discard pile.

I must’ve regarded it a second too long because Green Shirt then spoke up.

‘You’re collecting Diamonds, aren’t you?’

I tried not to smile.

‘どうして知っているのですか’ I asked, playing along. How did you know that?

‘Because you always stare at the cards whenever I discard a Diamonds one.’

He must’ve gotten the wrong end of the stick, because whenever he discarded a Diamonds card, my heart sank. The last thing I needed was a Diamonds card.

‘I’ll try and keep a poker face from now on,’ I muttered.

Green Shirt frowned in response and checked the timer on his phone.

Nine minutes.

Nine minutes until game over.

That’s 540 seconds I had to land a good card.

Come on, I thought. Please be a nine. Please be a nine.

I picked up a card from the deck. It was a Two of Spades. I discarded it immediately.

In the back of my mind, I was starting to panic. Judging by this whole setup, we were playing for our lives. After all, what kind of game would have an invisible barrier that kills those who try to back out?

The first man threw away a Six of Clubs. Green Shirt stared at it and scowled. He must’ve been looking for extra cards to add to his meld on the table.

By now, the two men were starting to become antsy. The first man kept scratching his eyebrow, whereas Green Shirt kept dragging his nails on the table in impatience.

He picked up a card from the deck, then grinned from ear to ear. He proudly lay down a consecutive suite consisting of the Seven and Six of Clubs and a Joker used to represent a five.

Carelessly, he tossed down a Nine of Clubs.

My heart jumped, and adrenaline shot through me.

He still thinks I’m collecting Diamonds. That’s why he tossed it.

My hand shot out and snatched up the card from the pile before Green Shirt could figure out his mistake. And figure it out, he did, because his eyes widened slightly.

I looked at him squarely.

‘I have something to confess,’ I said in English. ‘I lied. I’m not collecting Diamonds.’

Green Shirt’s smile dropped. He didn’t understand, but he would soon enough. The thing about Jokers is that they’re always a double-edged sword.

Laying down my new trio of nines, I reached over to Green Shirt’s meld and inserted my Five of Clubs, swiping his Joker for myself.

He made a noise of protest, whereas the first man watched on with disbelief, as if hoping that his intuition was wrong.

I added the Joker to my two Kings, creating a new meld which I down on the table.

Their faces told all. They had no idea that Jokers could be swapped. Even though I hadn’t understood the rules outlined at the beginning, it was evident that this was a rule that hadn’t been mentioned.

Watching them shake their heads, wide eyed… it was like watching a penny drop.

‘ごめんなさい,’ I said.

I’m sorry.

I threw the Ace of Hearts onto the discard pile.

The two men shot out of their seats, yelling frantically. I tried to tear my eyes away, but couldn’t, as two lasers pierced through the ceiling and struck them where they stood.

The two bodies crumpled to the ground, and all was still.

‘GAME CLEAR – CONGRATULATIONS!’

I don’t know how long I remained seated in my chair, but I felt that if I moved, I would collapse too. Swallowing, I took two fingers and pressed them to my jugular, feeling for my pulse.

I had won. I was still alive.

I was still here.

The phone on the table beside me flashed with a message. According to this game, I had a four-day visa, whatever that meant.

It didn’t matter though, all I needed right now was to sleep.

Rising unsteadily, I cautiously approached the where the invisible barrier had been. For all I knew it was a one-way system, and I didn’t want to make a stupid mistake after all my effort in the Rummy game. So, as a test, I picked up a tiny vase and threw it across the entrance.

Nothing.

It was like the lasers had just disappeared altogether.

Tentatively reaching my fingers through, I deemed it safe, and made my way back down the hall to the store entrance. I didn’t know where to go, or how to live in a world like this, but if books and movies had taught me anything, I needed to make some kind of camp, perhaps even head to a food store to collect some supplies –

I stopped.

On a small side table near the entrance doors, a card lay facing up. The Four of Diamonds. The same Four of Diamonds that had flashed on the screen on my phone. The game’s difficulty.

But when did it get here? Perhaps someone had come by whilst I was still playing.

Shrugging, I pocketed it and stepped outside into the ghostly darkness of Tokyo. Behind me, the electricity in the furniture store shut off completely.

Whatever kind of games these were, I had a feeling they were only just getting started.

#alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

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haliyam · 4 years ago

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interim (i)

zeke x reader/oc (warning: slow burn with some plot)

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 2

Hi everyone! This is part of the series I mentioned on my oneshot Asset, but it's a prequel. I'd love to continue the season 4 stuff, but I want to see how the manga ends first so I can plot out Reader's part in it all. (Also edit post-139, I've completely fallen in love with Zeke who deserves so much better and while I always intended to take my time with the Asset prequels, I'm in no rush to get to the Asset sequel. I do want to update as regularly as possible though, rl willing!)

The Reader/OC will be a cis-female Eldian character with a set background, as you'll find at the end of this chapter. Reader’s default name is Lucy, just because I personally don’t like writing ‘Y/N,’ but please feel free to set the substitution for Lucy to you or your character’s First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension! So on the browser extension that would be: Lucy = Your or your character's First Name. Because reader will have a set background, you'll have a set surname as well.

I will say that Zeke may seem a little OOC/angsty in the beginning of this story, if only because Reader and Zeke were good friends before he became the shitstain we know and love today and Reader is fairly familiar with his true moods even when he is being annoying as hell. (And Zeke is annoying. I swear I do like this guy hahah...)

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

It’s strange how easily you fall into step with the soldier ahead of you.

You don’t march, and your eyes wander stern walls and imposing doors that have long left your dreams, but your footfalls follow only one beat that echoes throughout the hallway as he leads you through it. There’s an almost comforting order to the sound that belies the way your heart tries to hammer its way through your ears or right out of your chest.

It feels like forever and far too soon when you arrive at a familiar waiting room. Motioning to the chairs around a small round table, the soldier knocks twice on the door opposite where you entered. When no one responds, he simply stands there, and you have no recourse but to take that seat.

Voices filter in, muffled, from the other room, and you slip your hands under the desk to squeeze your fingers together. Maybe this was a terrible idea after all. You can still leave, pursue your medical degree back home…

“No,” you whisper to yourself, even if you do abruptly stand from your chair. You just need a moment to freshen up. Facing the soldier, you begin, “I would like to—”

Alarm replaces the question in his gaze when two heavy knocks cut through your words. He stares at you a little longer, a new question, and you reply with a deep exhale.

“Never mind.”

He nods. “They’re ready for you.”

You enter the conference room, which is far too large for the four people sitting at one end of the long table there: an older man with more lapel pins and crow’s feet than you remember, and three others closer to your age—the esteemed Warrior Unit and their commander, Theo Magath.

Six long years later, they all look different enough that under other circumstances, you might hesitate to recognize them. But you know this place all too well, the lighting and their seating arrangement so familiar that you can mistake them for no other than Zeke Yeager, Pieck Finger, and Porco Galliard.

It soon appears from their expressionless gazes that they can’t say the same for you. Not that you can blame them—they had no reason to expect your arrival, and it’s Commander Magath who huffs at their frigid reception. “Is that how you Eldians treat old friends?”

The three glance at one another. You venture a small smile, and the recognition and surprise that sink into Zeke’s features make Magath snort as Pieck leaps from her chair, shattering the chill in the room as surely as she crashes into you with an embrace.

“Lucy!”

The joy in her voice sweeps aside your initial fears and brings your excitement bubbling out of your throat in your own laughter. “Pieck!”

She’s talking before you even part and still holding onto the back of your blouse when you do. “You look so… old,” she grins. “That is—me-old.”

Her languid excitement makes it difficult for you to keep your composure. “I am you-old,” you say, trying not to giggle, but your toothy smile already reaches from ear to ear.

Before you can say more, Commander Magath clears his throat. “If you two are finished…”

Both of you freeze instinctively at his tone. Stealing another squeeze, Pieck steps aside as Magath rises from his chair. “Good of you to drop by, Blanchard.”

You quickly cross the distance to shake his proffered hand. “Thank you, Sir. And congratulations on your promotion.”

He shrugs, taking a seat and gesturing that you and Pieck do the same. “Still not a far cry from playing nursemaid sometimes.”

Pieck shakes her head. “Don’t say that, Sir.”

“You’re right. I’m at least a pay grade or two above nursemaid,” Magath chuckles just a little, and to his right, Zeke continues to stare at you.

“Is that really you?” he asks, mouth set in a line under his new beard.

“In the flesh.” His expression remains neutral through your nervous chuckle. Shifting in your seat, you nod away toward Porco. “It’s so nice to see everyone again. Galliard.”

Though he gave you an appreciative once-over as you entered, Porco is now as uninterested as they come. “I didn’t think you’d still know our names. Thanks for taking the time to drop by, I guess.”

“Oh, come on, Pock,” Pieck teases, ignoring the air of hostility that starts to surround you. As though Porco is only an unruly child, she says in feigned apology, “A few days with the Jaw and he’s already this cocky.”

“Ah.” You can’t bring yourself to mirror her mirth. “I heard about that. I’m sorry about Marcel. And Bertholdt—and Annie…”

Pieck glances away, and because you can’t meet Zeke’s eyes at the moment, you address the commander instead. “What about Reiner? I heard he’d returned.”

“Braun is still undergoing a debriefing.”

A debriefing, you think, when they’ve been back a fortnight already? But it dawns on you easily enough that what Reiner is undergoing is an ideology test. Reindoctrination.

“I see… but…”

“It was on my recommendation,” Zeke cuts in, daring you, a civilian, to protest. His arms are crossed now. “Otherwise he’s in danger of passing on the Armor a full six years too early.”

“I only meant to say that Reiner is the most loyal Eldian I know,” you answer levelly, eyes boring into his. Your nails dig into the cloth of your skirt on your lap as you pretend not to hear Porco’s scoff. Taking the Armor from Reiner? The operation was a massive failure, but that consequence is far too severe... however expected. “After you, of course.”

Zeke tilts his head, obscuring his gaze from your view when the light above reflects off his glasses.

“It’s a good thing, in any case,” Magath explains. “Behind enemy lines for over five years, he—”

Whatever his opinion, the commander abruptly stops himself from sharing it and clears his throat instead. You know better than to protest when an unsettling pause rests over the room—exactly what you feared would occur.

To your surprise, it’s Porco who comes to your rescue, even if his disdain is palpable. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Well,” you begin gratefully, “I’m—”

“I asked her to come,” says Magath, completely ignoring the tension. “But my meeting prior ran overlong, and I have another coming up. Can you come in tomorrow morning? Ten sharp?”

You sit up straight when he addresses you. “Of course, Sir.”

Magath smiles—still a novelty to you—and pushes himself up out of his chair. The rest of you do the same, following him to the door as he speaks. “Go ahead and catch up in the meantime. And Blanchard—it’s good to see you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The rest of you—dismissed.”

He leaves the room with the Marleyan guard at the door. The other three let out a breath of relief once it closes.

“Blanchard,” Porco enunciates, stretching his arms. “Are we really still doing that? Who are we supposed to be fooling here?”

Pieck sighs, but it’s Zeke who stays him with a light backhand to the stomach. “Settle down, Galliard.”

Porco pushes his hand away. “Seriously? Of all people, you—”

“Your first transformation was pretty brutal, Galliard,” Zeke casually announces. He winces for good measure, like he’s actually worried. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

The hostility on Porco’s face quickly shifts to embarrassment, and you feel for him. “You’ve transformed already?”

“I wanted to go check on the Warriors anyway,” he says instead, eyeing you with a curled lip. “Nice seeing you again, Blanchard.”

“You too,” you call out, but he’s already stalked out of the room.

You feel Pieck’s hand loop around your arm. “Don’t take it personally,” she says gently. “Learning about Marcel was difficult for him.”

“I can only imagine.” She gives you a small smile at your words, and you understand. Casting a more pleasant gaze around the room, you ask, “How are you two? I thought it might be nice if we could get some lunch together.” You check your watch. “...Very late lunch.”

“I would love to,” Pieck says cheerfully, leading your way out of the room— “Tomorrow. I still have so much paperwork to do.”

Zeke snickers. “The joys of working with a team.”

“Life is unfair,” Pieck declares, but smiles when her hand slips down to yours. “I’ll pick you up after your meeting with Magath tomorrow. It’s a date, right?”

You squeeze her fingers in return. “Definitely.”

Her leisurely footsteps fade down the hallway, and you soon find yourself alone with Zeke. You dust at your blouse idly, but you must eventually look at him. “I suppose it’s just you and me today, then.”

He only eyes you, scratching the side of his bearded jaw. It’s even worse than him outright declining.

“Unless,” you quickly add, detesting the dead air, “are you… training the new Warrior class?”

Zeke snorts. “No. I’ve been busy with other work, but you can check in on their progress if you’re interested. Seems like the Commander wouldn’t mind, seeing as he invited you here.”

You ignore the jab: And you accepted. “What’s kept you busy?”

“Good question.” His smile is a facetious one. “But you know that’s top secret.”

You scoff, but you were braver in front of the others. Now his indifference is too much to bear.

It’s only after you turn away that Zeke asks, “Why don’t you drop by the house? My grandparents should be happy to see you again.”

“I… actually came from there. They asked me to stay. I hope you don’t mind,” you follow, and regret the words as soon as you say it. It’s like you’re trying to piss him off. “I’ll pay for my share of everything, of course.”

He doesn’t react with anger, but you were stupid to expect him to. “Oh?” he asks instead, managing the most sarcastic one-word question in existence. His voice has gotten so much deeper in the last six years, and somehow that makes it worse. “I would have expected the distinguished Miss Blanchard to prefer better accommodations by now.”

You resist the urge to wince. “Don’t say that. The Yeager household was like home to me for several years. More than home, sometimes.”

There’s a pause where only your footsteps, still in time with one another, are all you hear as you make your way down the empty hall. The thought of Zeke’s gaze right now shames you, but it’s ahead he’s looking when he lets out a whistle. “You’re making this difficult for me,” he laughs. “How can I kick you out after such high praise?”

Your last footfall echoes as you stop, reaching for his arm. “Zeke—”

He yanks it away without even looking at you. “We should head back before the Commander decides he wants something from me after all. Come on.”

Your face burns with humiliation even though there’s no one else around to watch him walk away, his long strides too fast for you to catch up.

The Yeagers are pleased to have you over for dinner and beyond, and though you already dropped by before making your appearance at HQ, Mrs. Yeager does not run out of subjects to discuss with you, updating you on several of your neighbors’ lives. Who has married, who has passed away, and whose children have joined the Warrior program themselves, only to fail. Zeke doesn’t talk except to comment on something his grandparents say, or very rarely something you say so as not to arouse their suspicion. They have none. They are too busy doting on you after your long, long absence.

After dinner, when your stomachs are full and your chest is light with laughter, you stand up to collect the dishes and bring them to the sink. “Absolutely not,” Mrs. Yeager says, realizing your intention once she hears the light clatter of tableware. “You’re our guest, Lucy!”

“Please,” you call from the sink. “I miss doing this with all of you around.”

Dr. Yeager sighs in agreement with his wife. “Not on your first night. Zeke.”

Zeke is already on his feet, leaving only everyone’s glasses as he makes his way to the sink with the placemats. Dr. Yeager has brought out their good wine to celebrate your return. “I can do this myself,” he tells you, trying to wave you aside.

You don’t budge. “But I can help. We’ll get it all done more quickly.”

He levels a look at you—one you haven’t seen since you were very young, from before you were friends. “Sit with my grandmother, Lucy,” he murmurs so that only you hear. “Don’t make her crane her neck just to talk to you.”

Shame and something completely unfamiliar fill you at his reprimand, and you surrender with a nod. You make your way back to the table and squint at Mrs. Yeager. “Only tonight, though.”

Mrs. Yeager laughs, reaching for your hands across the table. You give them to her easily. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” she says. “Your parents must be very proud of you.” You nod with some unease, and Dr. Yeager, even as he enjoys his wine, clears his throat. Mrs. Yeager realizes her mistake. “Ah—I...I’m sorry, dear. I know they passed away several years ago. But I’m sure they would be proud of you now.”

“That’s all right,” you reassure her. “I hope it’s not too bold to say, but… you and Dr. Yeager were mother and father to me for a time as well, when they couldn’t be. I will always be grateful for that.”

“Oh, Lucy,” Mrs. Yeager smiles, her eyes quickly shining, “That isn’t bold at all. We felt the same way. We only wish you had written more!”

A scoff makes its way from the kitchen. “Grandma,” Zeke reminds her lightly, even as he scrubs the plates with renewed vigor, “you know Lucy has been busy.”

“I know that, dear, I wasn’t trying to—”

“No, it is my fault,” you agree. “I promise I’ll be better about that the next time I go.”

“Next time?” asks Dr. Yeager, suddenly sitting up straight. “Where are you going?”

You blink, turning your attention to him, and attempt to wave the confusion away with your hands. “No, no, Dr. Yeager, I’ll be staying here for a while. I only meant that for the next time I leave Lib—”

“Next time?” Dr. Yeager repeats, his hand knocking over his wine glass as he eyes your left sleeve with intent. It trembles as he grasps at his scalp. “If you’re leaving, why aren’t you wearing your armband?”

The faucet shuts off, leaving only the sound of alcohol dripping from the dinner table to the floor, and Mrs. Yeager turns to him nervously. “Dear—”

“Don’t leave without your armband again, Faye,” he pleads, looking straight at you. He rises from his seat, voice more and more frantic as he swipes at a nearby cabinet with nothing to show for it. “Where is it? Where did you put it?”

Zeke is already wiping his hands on the hem of his shirt, and Mrs. Yeager goes to take her husband’s arm. “Darling, no, this is Lucy, remember?”

But Dr. Yeager is already heaving. It’s not long before tears are streaming down his face and he cries, “Why would you do this to me again? Why did he let you remove your armband, Faye?!”

“Dr. Yeager—I’m Lucy. Lucy,” you insist, hurrying over and tucking your hair behind your ears to show him your face, smiling as you’ve done many times in an attempt to calm him. You hold his arms, trying to jog him back to reality, but by now he is screaming and weeping, digging his fingers into your arms and repeatedly calling out his daughter’s name.

“...Come on, grandpa.” Zeke pries Dr. Yeager’s hands from your sleeve with his grandmother’s help. Stunned by his sudden lapse, you can only watch—able to follow only when they are already struggling with him by the stairs.

“Zeke—”

“Stay there,” he hisses with rancor that freezes you in place. Mrs. Yeager apologizes, but of course you shake your head and return to the dining room. Your hands shake as you clean the spilled alcohol from the dinner table and the floor, going over what you could have said to set off Dr. Yeager.

This is hardly the first time you’ve seen him like this, but it used to take only very specific words to remind him of that event, and so much easier to bring him back from those memories. The memory of his weeping face seizes at your heart, tempting you to launch yourself upstairs and ask after him, but Zeke is right. You’ll only make things worse.

You’re getting started on the dishes again when you hear heavy footsteps plod down the stairs.

Zeke. You cuff the faucet off, mouth already open when he smiles, reaching over to graze your exposed ear with his thumb and his index finger. “Did growing up damage your ears? I said I’d take care of the dishes.”

The unexpected contact sends a strange rush through you, but it’s the insult you focus on ignoring. Even if you do untuck your hair. “I’m sorry about Dr. Yeager.”

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugs. “It happens more often nowadays.”

“I didn’t know it had gotten so bad.”

“How could you? You’ve been away.”

You gnaw on your cheek at that. “I’m sorry, Zeke.”

For a moment, you finally see it—the recognition of the words you’ve been trying to say since you met earlier that afternoon, and the reason why. An eddy of hurt and confusion reflects in his eyes, pulling at the air around you. You want to rise above it, or else drown, or just beg for his forgiveness, but he knows you, or knew you as much as you knew him, and he cuts you off before you can speak.

“You really have grown up.” His droll chuckle makes your heart sink into your stomach. “You never used to apologize for anything.”

You make a face. “That’s not true.”

“Maybe. You were pretty damn insolent when you wanted to be.”

“I guess I could be,” you murmur. Your eyes lift to his, on a tightrope’s edge. “Remember when Marras overheard me complaining about firearm maintenance?”

Zeke snorts. “Magath had you cleaning Warrior arsenal for a week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “That was awful. Only Marcel snuck out to help me at night, and that was to impress Pieck. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

You squint at him. Zeke grins, warmly now, and hope almost finds you—but your words catch up with you first, and both of you remember when you really are.

“Marcel,” you can’t help but say with regret.

“Yeah.” Coursing a hand through his hair, Zeke brushes past you to the sink. “Anyway, I’ll take care of this. You go to bed. You have a meeting with Magath tomorrow—that’s why you came back, right?”

“No, not just—”

The sudden burst of running water from the faucet and the wall of his back means the conversation is over. Again. Clenching your fist, you bite your tongue and slowly breathe out your growing frustration.

“Good night, then, Zeke.”

You’ve already gone up the stairs when Zeke swallows the lump in his throat, staring at the spoon splashing water upon his palm. He’s been washing it for the last two minutes.

“Night, Lucy.”

Zeke has already left for HQ by the time you come downstairs the next morning. Dr. Yeager is still in bed, exhausted as he gets whenever he remembers his children, but Mrs. Yeager has prepared breakfast. Try as you might, you cannot resist sitting with her and sharing a meal together. You make it to the Liberio military headquarters just in time to hear the new Warrior instructor barking out to the children jogging around the courtyard.

You wander a little closer, unable to help your curiosity—but a nearby guard spots you and quickly corrals you away, back to the offices. “They’re expecting you,” he says, looking you over as he hands you back your permit. “Don’t know what top brass wants with a civilian, much less an Eldian, but...”

“Top brass?”

The soldier almost sneers at you. As if you don’t know, Eldian, it says, and you’re starting to think you actually don’t.

He’s led you not to the same conference room as yesterday afternoon, but to an office that you distinctly remember as off-limits. When the soldiers standing guard let you inside, you understand why.

Top brass is right. More than Commander Magath, there are a number of higher-ups waiting for you inside - some faces you’ve glimpsed since you were a child, and others you have seen as recently as months ago. One in particular stands out—an intelligence officer who reports directly to your brother. Three are generals at some of the highest levels in the army.

“Blanchard,” Magath calls out. You nearly stiffen at his voice again, but relax in time, to the chuckles of the men in the room. The commander ignores them, staring straight at you. You detect the slightest hint of an apology in his hardened gaze, or maybe that’s wishful thinking to keep your growing displeasure in check. “Glad you could make it.”

“Sir, I—”

A nearby general cuts you off. List. “You can dispense with that, Magath,” he says. “We’re all in the know here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

General List turns toward you.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Tybur,” he says. There is no smile in his harsh features, but he is not unkind. Careful, maybe. “Please, sit. We have a proposition for you.”

So... yes! I admit, part of the reason I wanted to write something in the AoT/SnK series is because I loved and hated the addition of the Tyburs. So I wanted to write a little more about the family but also since I'm thirsty, write a Zeke fic and eventually a Levi one (whether AU or not). Obviously we'll eventually go into why the Tyburs would send one of their own into the Warrior program, among other things, but bear with me for now.

Also disclaimer: This is a Zeke/Reader story set in the AOT world, so it’s a romance with a guy who gleefully murdered a shit ton of innocent people and helped Marley level countries. Please don’t look to this story for a completely morally upright character/reader/OC who makes all the right choices. (Though expect that Reader will take them into consideration.)

Last thing! This is a slowburn with some plot, so while you can definitely expect romance (and smut) down the line, and while this fic does go heavily into Lucy's/Reader's relationship with Zeke, it also features interactions with other characters. I just wanted to give fair warning if you expect it to focus only on Zeke.

Thank you for reading!

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pheedraws · 4 years ago

Text

Life Day

Pairing: (The tentative beginnings of) Din Djarin x Nova Reed (OC)

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: None, just pure festive cheese...

A/N: So, uh... I don’t think I’ve finished a fic, let alone posted one anywhere, since 2014. I’m a lil rusty. But, I recently discovered I’ve been bitten by the Mando-writing bug and I physically cannot stop, so... for better or worse, here goes.

Takes place within the gap between Chapter 8 “Redemption” and Chapter 9 “The Marshal”.

(I know Life Day is technically in November, but c’mon. It’s still festive.)

"What... is this?"

The Mandalorian studied the small box before him. It looked innocent enough; brightly wrapped, perched delicately on his seat in the Razor Crest's cockpit. There was no real reason for him to suspect the innocuous thing, yet he found himself puzzled by it all the same.

How did it get there?

The bounty hunter wracked his brain for an answer. It wasn't his name-day; in fact, he couldn't recall ever telling anyone his name-day...

So what was it?

"It's Life Day," his companion answered nonchalantly, not looking up from the blaster she was cleaning. "It's a gift."

"Life Day?"

"Yeah." She looked up from her work then, smiling warmly at the bounty hunter. "You know... Wookie festival, day of celebration..."

"I know what it is." His brows furrowed beneath the helmet. "I just... hadn't realised it was today."

Nova laughed, sweeping the loose screws on the table back into her toolkit, cursing under her breath when one bounced onto the floor and rolled out of sight. "I hadn't either- not until we visited the bazaar yesterday. We've been so busy lately; I lost all track of the date..."

The Mandalorian hummed in agreement. They hadn't stayed in one place for more than two days since... well, he couldn't recall. Their quest to find other Mandalorians, to return the kid to his own kind, had taken them to the far reaches of the galaxy, trawling through the Outer Rim in search of answers. It was merely a coincidence that Life Day had fallen on the one quiet day they'd had to simply breathe since the showdown on Nevarro.

Din picked the gift up off the seat, cradling it somewhat awkwardly in his palms. "You didn't have to do this for me."

"I wanted to. It's... a tradition, of sorts." Nova sighed, drumming her fingers on the table in a pattern he'd become familiar with during their travels together. At the curious tilt of the Mandalorian's helmet, she continued. "My mother... When she was on Coruscant, in the Jedi Temple? The celebrations were huge." She smiled, closing her eyes at the memory. "She'd tell me all about them, even show me- painting pictures with her words and the Force, always telling me she'd take me to see the real thing one day..."

His companion trailed off, her tone becoming somewhat bittersweet.

"We never got to go there, in the end. But... I always celebrated it, even when I was on Tatooine. It... kept her memory alive, I suppose. No matter where I was in the galaxy or who I was with, I'd get those special to me a little something to commemorate the day. "

Those special to me. Din noted the faint blush on her cheeks, grey eyes widening slightly at the realisation of what she had said. He smiled softly at the sight; thankful the helmet hid his own expression from view.

Stepping away from the console, the Mandalorian slowly made his way over to the table his companion sat at, taking the seat opposite her.

"I got the kid something too, of course." The pair glanced over to the corner of the ship where the child sat playing with a distinctly bantha-shaped plush toy, chirping happily to himself.

Din smiled at scene before him. "He seems quite taken with it already."

He paused for a moment, studying the gift in his hands once more; turning the small box this way and that, admiring the red paper and the way it almost glistened in the light of the setting sun streaming in through the windows of the Crest.

The silence that fell over the cockpit was not an awkward one, and yet... Din felt compelled to fill it, to give her something in return for all the patience and compassion she had shown him since fate threw them together.

And so, Din gave her a glimpse of the only thing he had to give, the only thing that was ever truly his and his alone; his past.

"In the Tribe, we didn't... I never... I haven't celebrated Life Day since I was a child, before I became a foundling."

Her eyes widened at his words, and he couldn't fault her reaction. The bounty hunter had always been... guarded around her, around everyone; never revealing more than he absolutely had to at any given time. He'd never spoken about his past to anyone before, not even the Tribe.

This is the way. The only way he'd ever known.

And yet... opening himself to others, having his soul be seen though his face was hidden... it didn't feel like such a betrayal anymore, not now.

Not with her.

"My parents..." Din paused at the memory, eyes sliding shut. He had found himself thinking about them... of their sacrifice more and more as of late, ever since taking the child under his wing. I suppose it's only natural, given the circumstances... "They would always do something to celebrate. It was just the three of us- we didn't have anyone else, but... it always felt... special."

He thought back to the days on his home planet, the warmth of his family. Din had long since buried his old self; he was a Mandalorian now, the creed was all he knew... but the memories remained, tucked away safely in the recesses of his mind, sheltered from the corrupting touch of time.

For years, Din hadn't given more than a passing thought to his old life. He remembered... that day in vivid detail, could recall the events that led up to his initiation as a foundling almost perfectly even years later, but everything else... It was as if it had simply slipped from the forefront of his mind, his subconscious shutting it out lest he lose sight of his new life. His new creed.

Nevarro changed all of that.

Piece by piece, his carefully shrouded identity had been pulled out from beneath him, bleeding out on the floor of that cantina. He had seen his parents in the events transpiring around him, their fate mirroring his own... until it hadn't. It hadn't been his time, but the ghosts stayed with him.

He wondered if they always would.

Gloved fingers finally pulled at the paper, taking care not to damage the delicate box beneath it.

When the Mandalorian caught sight of the gift's contents, he froze.

It... it can't be...

They had been exploring the local markets when he'd seen them; their sweet smell drawing his attention to a stall on the outskirts of the bazaar. He'd thought it simply a trick of his mind at first, his ordeal on Nevarro making him... sentimental, seeing things that weren't there; simply echoes of the times that had flashed before his eyes as he lay injured in the cantina, forever taunting him though the danger had now passed.

But as he neared the stand, feet carrying him in its direction before he could even truly think about the decision, he had found it to be no mere trick of the mind.

There, sat snugly in neat rows on the stall before him, bright colours dancing in the midday sun, were the sweets he'd grown to love as a child; the same sweets his family had indulged in each Life Day.

They'd had to leave the markets soon after his discovery, the Mandalorian pulling himself out of his... uncharacteristic slip long enough to urge his companions back to the Razor Crest, lest they stay in one place too long and draw any unwanted attention.

The job always comes first.

The sweets had been mostly forgotten about soon after, the unlikely clan shifting seamlessly back into their normal routines, thoughts solely on the journey ahead of them...

Until now.

"Where did you get these?" How did she know?

"I saw you in the markets. You were... fixated on those sweets. I felt bad that we had to get back to the ship before you had a chance get some, so..." She smiled softly, gesturing to the box before him with a nod of her head. "I made a detour."

He couldn't take his eyes off the sweets; their colours, their smell... It all seemed so much more real here than they had done in the markets. He could touch them, see the powdered sugar left behind on his gloves, mind filling with memories of his father laughing at a younger Din for spilling the fine powder all over his robes in his enthusiasm to sample the sweet treats.

The sudden bittersweet rush of nostalgia knocked Din off-kilter.

"I-" He paused, a knot forming in his throat at the sight of the sweets sat perfectly in their box. "Thank you."

Maker, he hoped she couldn't hear the waver in his voice.

"I hope I picked out the right ones..." Nova continued, concerned slightly by the silent demeanour of the Mandalorian. Din had always been quiet, but this was... different. "I was careful when I went back to the markets, I know you don't like-"

Din reached over the table to gently grasp his companion's hand, effectively halting her rambled worries.

"They're... perfect." His voice was tight with an emotion he wasn't sure he wanted to share with the woman, an emotion he wasn't entirely sure of himself, so he hoped and prayed the squeeze of his hand around hers spoke the words he couldn't. Not yet. "Thank you."

Nova smiled, shoulders visibly relaxing at the reassurance. "You're welcome."

Seemingly drawn in by the sweet scents, small hands tugged at the straps of Nova's boots, the woman leaning over in her seat to bring the inquisitive child up onto her lap. "Hey there, little one."

Though the child's ears fluttered in recognition of her voice, his eyes were focused solely on the sweets on the table, mesmerised by the sight before him. Din couldn't hold back his laugh at the intense look of concentration on the child's little features, knowing all too well the internal debate the youngling was having with himself.

"Here you go, kid." The Mandalorian held out the box in front of the child, watching as his black eyes widened in fascination. "Why don't you give one a try?"

The child cooed happily then, reaching for the small blue sweet in the centre of the box. The treat didn't last long; swiftly disappearing before it even had a chance to be truly savoured. Din chuckled, knowing he had done the same on more than one occasion in his youth, each time earning an exasperated look from his mother.

So alike... yet so different, too.

This time, when Din thought of his family once more... he didn't feel that same sadness, or loss, or regret. He felt only warmth. The shadows of his past, those tendrils of pain and loss and bad memories that had been swirling within his heart since that fateful day on Nevarro, had finally started to settle.

Here, on board this ship with this unlikely clan of three... this aliit... Din felt at ease for the first time in a long while.

The path ahead of them would be treacherous and hard; that much was certain. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, nor where their path would lead them next. All Din knew was that no matter where their journey took them, they would have this.

And that would always be enough.

"Happy Life Day, Nova."

Din was not a poetic man, nor had he ever claimed to be. But the smile that lit up her face at his words... He could have sworn it shone brighter than any star he'd seen.

"Happy Life Day, Din."

#this... was not meant to be the first fic posted on here #but I had this idea at approximately 11:55 last night and had to drop everything for it #chronology is for people who think ahead #I am not one of those people #The Mandalorian #Star Wars #Din Djarin #Din Djarin x OC #oc: nova reed #x: you feel like home #my writing

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

Text

The marriage pact - Wavelength

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 1 | Part 2 Wavelength | Part 3 >

Disclaimer: none, perhaps some beach wear? If that tickles your fancy.

Author’s note: It’s romcom weekend, okay? 😘

Word count: 1.949

(Link to my Masterlist)

[ Alice.in.writing.land ]

Dear readers.

Sometimes I wonder. Do I know you as you know me? This morning an anonymous caller called in on the radio morning show to let people know that this Durrell paparazzi craze was hurting the island. Trash everywhere. The dogs barking all throughout the night. All and all, lots of grievances.

Now I know, and I think many people with me, who called. Pitchy voice, concerned about dogs and annoyed with island guests? I’m not going to ring up any names, but.. we know her. And not wholly unimportant: we love her for her concerns, albeit that they sometimes are a bit over exaggerated.

Anonymity only goes so far. And I am rather bad at keeping it, aren’t I? You know my name, my hobbies, my frustrations and how much I love my Jersey. An island that is home to a great many colourful people, wonderful souls. I wonder if any of you readers call Jersey your home too.

And if so.

Have I ever met you?

Just a thought, a blurb, a swindle of the mind. I love you all and wish you, as usual, a splendid Saturday.

Ali

Home is where the hearth is, and in my case, where the waves hit the white sanded beach near my parents place. I remember growing up here so well and I praise myself lucky for having lived here for so long, my family and friends always eager to come over and visit.

Many a day and night have been spent here, the beach our witness as great memories were made and lifelong friendships forged.

It was, simply put, a very good beach.

I smiled into the early morning sun, a soft breezing caressing through my brown hair as I brushed past the long dune grasses, making my way to my favourite hide-out near the rocks on the far right end. A truly perfect spot for sun bathing without being sand blasted and the water just right for a swim, the sea quickly reaching swim-worthy depths.

And the best of it was: you had to be a local to know of this place.

It wasn’t particularly easy to reach and thus it was, despite the Durrell craze, desirably quiet in here.

Reaching my destination I slipped out of my simple summer dress, my sticky skin requiring a quick rinse before I would indulge myself in my two favourite hobbies; sun bathing and writing. Which in all honesty would make up most of my Saturday, as my friends were too occupied with their kids’ soccer practise, grocery shopping or any of the other very adult things to do.

I let the cold water wash away any of those concerning thoughts - how much of a non-adult I was for having reached none of that - and swam out further into the bay.

This was me, at 37. Swimming. Alone.

‘HEY! Ali!’

Okay, not quite alone. BegrudginglyI turned around, my eyes squinting in the reflections of the water. I saw a man wave at me. A dog by his side. An akita..a…hold on..

I felt my heart flutter for the splittest of seconds.

Henry? What the hell was he doing here?

With quick and sure strikes I swam back to the shoreline, the clear definition of Henry wearing a blue shirt and some airy linen pants appearing right next to the spot where I had left my clothes. Panting ever so slightly I waded out of the water, not quite sure what to say or do as I walked up to Henry.

Henry gave me a quick look up and down, then swallowed semi-awkwardly, a boyish smile turning up on his lips.

Well, that hadn’t changed.

‘Hi Henners.’ I said, filling in the silence.

‘Hi Ali.’ He smiled, still a bit unsure of what to say or what kind of face to pull. Meanwhile Kal wasn’t half so hesitant, the large akita pulling on his leash to get closer to me.

I chuckled and ruffled the dog behind his ears, then pointed at my clothes that lay behind Henry. ‘Just gonna..fetch a towel if you don’t mind.’

‘Oh yea sure. Sorry.’ Henry stepped aside and Kal looked up at him, almost as if asking his owner why he was being such an awkward dork.

‘So…long time no see.’ I grinned, wiping myself dry with the towel, Henry’s eyes now averted to the sea - perhaps to watch the waves, perhaps to offer me the slightest of privacy. ‘Yes. A whole 23 hours.’ He smiled, blue eyes gazing at the aquamarine water.

‘And now you are in dire need of some down time.’ I stated, stepping in beside him, the towel now wrapped around my body.

‘Kind of..yea.’ He looked to his side, his eyes far more relaxed and at peace than they were yesterday. Yesterday I met Henry the actor. Today it was..just Henry. I smiled and nodded at a picnic rug I had brought along. ‘You can join me if you want. I even brought cake.’

‘Thanks. I’d like that. Though no cake…unfortunately..no cake.’ He folded his lips in disappointment, then quickly turned them back up into a smile.

‘Alright then. I guess you Hollywood stars survive on salads and champagne alone then, huh?’ We both chuckled. ‘Don’t let my team hear that, or I won’t be allowed to drink champagne either.’ He raised an eyebrow in amusement, sitting down on the rug after I folded it out, moving some of my things to the side.

It was weird to say, but it didn’t feel weird at all to sit here with Henry. Sure, he looked different - older, broader and slightly more sorrowful, but the twinkle in his eyes had remained. Henry was still Henry. My bubbly, slightly chunky neighbour Henry with whom I always loved to play and make homework with, was still somewhere deep inside this man.

‘I heard you lived at your parents now, so I decided to pay you a visit. Yesterday was a bit…eh..’ ‘-Weird.’ I interjected, grinning at him. ‘Yea. I honestly didn’t know you still lived here on the islands. I always thought you’d be one of those mainlanders - living the London dream.’

I shook my head, licking my lips and moving my hand through Kal’s thick fur - the dog now also stretched out, right in between me and Henry. ‘Nope. And perhaps I should have. So far my life’s been a bit..’ ‘Weird?’

We both laughed. ‘I was going to say: different than I expected. But weird would do. At least I feel weird. Living with my parents again at 37. I mean..what’s wrong with me?!’

‘May I ask..why? I mean..I hope nobody’s ill or..’

‘Oh no. This is just me failing at finding a life partner that actually wants the same things from..’ I hesitated again, looking up into Henry’s face and seeing bitter recognition. ‘Never mind I shouldn’t unload all that bullshit on you. Hmm…’ I shook my head and looked back at the sea, my voice quiet, but my mind once more racing.

Just a few weeks ago I had broken up with my boyfriend of seven years. Chris. Whom I had thought to be perfect for me. Relaxed, fun, caring. But unfortunately also; not on the same wavelength. And that is, apparently, especially when you really want to have a family, damn important.

‘Perhaps I can lift your spirits with the knowledge that I am not doing much better. On the relationship department, that is.’ Henry sighed into the fresh morning air, the scent of hot sand starting to rise up into our nostrils.

It was going to be hot today.

‘Surely you could lift a finger and the women come swarming.’ I grinned, eyes finally meeting his again. Almond browns looking into deep blues. And once more I saw that slither of shyness cross his features. Or was it uncertainty? Sorrow?

It was clear that Henry wasn’t jumping at the fact that women would come swarming at him.

‘Too bad I don’t like swarming women.’ He smiled.

There, you had seen that right, girl.

‘Well then you do know what you want. That’s quite unique for a man.’ I said, realising a tad too late that such a thing was a bit mean to say. Henry furrowed his brow, then tilted his head. ‘I feel there’s something underlying that statement. Something happened?’ His question was honest and open, no feelings hurt. I sighed. ‘Ugh. Sorry about that. Chris, my ex, just left a bit of a sting that’s all. He didn’t want the things I wanted, after years of hesitating on his end. And you know..”the clock’s ticking”.’

‘Well. Same I guess.’ Henry shrugged, making me snort. ‘You’re a man Henry, you can children way into your 60s!’

‘No! No..Not really. I mean..I don’t think I could have children that late. I want to actually be there for them. Be there when they’ve grown up.’

‘Always so considerate.’ I smiled, then sighed again, seeing him return my smile, his eyes holding a pensive glint. That was, until he shook his head, laughing at his own thoughts.

‘What?’ I asked, chewing the inside of my lip.

‘Nothing.’

‘Mmmm..You’re an awful liar Cavill. The lot of you actually. Only your mother could ever keep a straight face.’ We both laughed. ‘Might have to take up some acting classes then.’ He winked.

I rolled my eyes, then continued: ‘Remember when you and Charlie had baked that terribly dry cake? UGH. And then you put so much icing on top it was like the titanic all over.’

‘ALI!’ He exclaimed, embarrassed at the memory of presenting this cake for a local baking contest - which of course went miserably.

I chuckled. ‘What?!’ I smiled with playful innocence.

‘Well I practised in the mean time, just so you know.’

‘Good for you.’ I laughed, earning myself another one of his discerning looks, which made me laugh even harder, louder, snorting as his face melted into one of full-on exasperation.

‘You!’ Henry growled, his long arm reaching out for me and pulling me effortlessly into his chest, making Kal quickly get up and move out of the way - the dog could feel this was not a good place to be right now.

I squirmed, wiggling in his arm, trying to get away from him before he could launch some tickles in my sides. Like the old days. Though now it was so very different. We were grown ups now. Grown ups didn’t do this, right?

‘Hen Hen! Hen! What if people see us? What if..’ My breath was short, chuckles still escaping my lips as he stopped his assault, his arm remaining locked around me, refraining me from going anywhere else. ‘Like I care.’ He laughed. ‘We’re old friends. Heavens. We were toddlers together. Besides, we still have that pact, remember?’

I looked at him incredulously, then blinked, a blush creeping over my cheeks. ‘The.. pact.’ I mumbled, licking my terse lips, quickly looking back out over the water, not wishing to look into his eyes now he suddenly was so very close. Now his musky scent reached my eager nose.

He smelled so good.

‘And we’re way past 35 Ali.’

‘I know. We’re getting old Henners.’ I sighed, the last of my chuckles melting on my lips, my head quite naturally leaning into his shoulder.

And he felt nice too.

Ugh, it was nice to touch a man again. To be around Henry again. The sweet, chubby boy had turned into a gentle hearted hottie. It left me wondering how it came to be that a man like him hadn’t found a good woman yet.

‘You’re thinking very loudly Ali.’

‘Mmm..then indulge me. What am I thinking about?’

Henry chuckled. ‘Me.’

General tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84

Fluff lovers squad: @star017 @perhaps2remember @pterodactylterrace @witchersqueen @desperate-and-broken @toomanyfandomsshreya @deliciouslysassyarcade @pamacs-macs @cavilladdict @scorpionchild81 @lebguardians @sofiebstar @amberbabem @mis-lil-red @aestheticqueenb

Want to be added or removed to the tag list? Shoot me a message!

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x oc #fluff #henry bear #kal #wavelength #the marriage pact #jersey island #beach #romcom

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curiousconch · 4 years ago

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Lions on the Prowl

Chapter 7 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: Bryce and Rafael go on the hunt to unravel the sinister truth, hoping that what is revealed leads to Heather.

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 1.8k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / language, violence

Author's Notes: As promised, here's chapter 7. It has minor references to canon, but I did some tweaks to fit the overall storyline. Thank you so much for taking time to read this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song and an OC Jordan Anderson.

Bryce slipped his phone into the pocket of his suit after his call with Rafael. He got into his car and punched the coordinates of his destination, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the GPS to load. Once he heard the first set of directions, he turned on the ignition and drove off. As the miles went by, he began to map out his strategy to interrogate the person who started it all - Travis Perry.

After half an hour, he was let into the maximum security facility. He went through the strict visitor SOP before he was led into a small room, devoid of anything cheerful. He tried his best to shake off the inherent thoughts he had about Heather's current situation, focusing instead at the matter at hand. Several minutes passed before he heard a click and the door opened, revealing a dank and skinny figure.

When Travis realized who was visiting, he rolled his eyes.

Bryce watched as he sat down while his handcuffs was hooked at a protruding hole in the center of the table. He waited for the guard to step outside before he leaned forward, switching into full-on lawyer mode.

"You better tell me what you know now, Perry."

Travis smirked, looking ominous.

"Desperate much, are you, ADA Lahela?" he leaned back, slouching. "Why come to me so early on in the game?"

The answer was easy, he was desperate. Every passing minute that Heather was missing reduces the possibility of finding her alive. He knew that much. And Bryce was willing to risk anything to see her breathing again. Even endangering his career or his dignity.

"You know very well why I'm here, Travis," his fingers ran up his blue tie, loosening it a little, hoping that he was playing his cards right. Bryce knew Perry's confidence came from the knowledge that he had nothing left to lose. He can't put him at fault though, his sentence were pretty much signed, sealed and delivered. However, the ADA didn't expect him to give up anything without a fight. He was the criminal who attempted to kill a senator, after all. So he came prepared.

Bryce shook his head, sneering back, a finger pressed lightly on his chin.

"Travis, Travis, Travis..." he stood up, circling around the prisoner like a lion on a prowl. "Aren't you forgetting something? I'm just a man who can offer you something that is going to be very hard to turn down," he stopped once he stood directly behind his prey. He then crouched down and leaned forward, his smug face inches away from Perry's. "So, you interested?"

Perry hissed, a look of disdain overcoming his previously confident composure.

"I thought so," Bryce smiled, satisfied. His work wasn't done yet though. He put the tips of his fingers together, pulling back so he can continue to prance around. It was the signature Lahela move.

This was a signal to anyone beyond enemy lines that Prosecutor Bryce got you in his grasp. That's why they call him magic hands.

"You better start talking then. Clock is ticking," he returned to stand opposite him, the palm of his hands pressed flatly on the metal table. "Well, that is, if you choose to cooperate."

The perp he worked laboriously to convict fell into a contemplative silence. Bryce watched intently, as Travis closed his eyes and took deep breaths before sitting back up, determined not to say a thing.

"I take it you don't want to talk then?" Bryce pursed his lips in an attempt of mockery. "Why? Suddenly grown a conscience after being caged for a few months? Wanna make Jonathan proud?"

At the mention of his younger brother, Perry abruptly stood up causing his chains to rattle against metal. He lost control, as he screamed to the young ADA's face.

When he lost his steam, Travis eventually backed down looking pleased with himself as he found Bryce's stunned expression.

"You will never catch him! Jordan is more cunning and more capable than any of you pieces of shit!" Travis roared, startling Bryce. "You're all just as worthless as that fucking senator! You think you're so different? Well guess what, you're all the same!"

For a few long moments, Bryce did seem like someone who just lost a battle. The convict sat down and pressed the button under the table to call in his escort. But before anyone came back in to get him, the cunning golden boy mimicked his movements and stared back at him.

"Well, thank you, for your kind assistance," Bryce said quietly as a guard entered and uncuffed Perry. Travis looked back at him, puzzled. He was ordered to stand up, and when he was about to leave the room, Bryce quirked a brow, his lips twisting into a smirk of a cheshire cat.

The mouse just fell into the trap.

"Jordan, huh? I wonder who that is."

Perry's face drained of all color. Bryce chortled in reply before he continued his celebratory address.

"And since you didn't agree on anything, I'll consider it an early holiday gift that doesn't need to be repaid," the lawyer brushed back his hair and stood up, straightening his dark grey suit. With a shrill scream, the heavy metal door closed upon Travis Perry's face, leaving Bryce alone in the room. He waited for a few moments, fixing his tie, then walked back out to the correctional's office.

One more thing before we're done here.

He requested for Perry's files, browsing through his phone records and visitor logs for the past 6 months. When he turned to the third page, he found exactly what he was looking for. Bingo. He fist bumped the air, then took pictures of the pages where he found the matching name. As he set out to collect the rest of his belongings, he quick dialed Rafael and reported his findings.

"We have a name," he walked back to his parked car and got in, turning the ignition on. "It's Jordan Anderson. Look for any records related to him and how he connects with Travis Perry, I'm coming over." he backed up the car out to the road and drove to town.

Hold on, Heather. We're coming for you.

***

Rafael reopened Perry's files for the tenth time since tonight after he ended his call with Bryce. It was a breakthrough, after hours of not being able find anything of value since the investigation started. The name didn't ring any bells, but he was confident he's going to find something. He had to.

Before he closed the file another time, he read a single phrase in the page about Travis Perry's family background. There it was listed:

Parents: Theodore Perry (Deceased), Jenny Perry (deceased)

Siblings: Jonathan Perry (deceased), foster brother (presumed alive, identity unknown)

He highlighted the two words - foster brother.

Is this him? Did we find the kidnapper?

He beckoned the agent beside him who was poring over Farrugia's phone logs. "Marshall, can you find out if Travis' parents took in kids for foster care?"

The agent nodded and opened the application for the National Foster Care directory. Raf watched as he browsed per county, directing him to a site containing Boston's list. Time seemed to slow down for Rafael as Agent Marshall typed in the parents names into the search criteria. He pressed enter, and together they watched the loading icon, as the app attempted to pull up any matching records.

After an excruciatingly long 10 minutes, the application displayed a single name: Jordan Anderson.

This was the solid lead they needed.

He directed half of his team to find anything they could regarding Jordan Anderson. One by one, they pooled in the data and eventually created the most accurate biography of the man who just became Boston's most wanted.

Raf asked for his image to be emailed to the IT guys to run facial recognition on surveillance footage around Edenbrook and Bryce's condo, marking it as urgent. He approached the whiteboard, and began to write a summary of what they knew so far:

JORDAN PETER ANDERSON

* Foster brother of Travis Perry

* Aged 29

* Last known address: Everett, MA

* Last known occupation: Maintenance Crew, Stintson and Co. Cleaning Agency

* Criminal records: Juvenile detention for Shoplifting, illegal drug use, stalking, trespassing

He also listed down the number of restraining orders issued against him, painting a picture of a long history of offenses and a troubled life. He read the accompanying material that they were able to dig in the last half hour and built a psychological profile of the suspect.

Several minutes after, ADA Lahela walked into the room. Bryce nodded to him, before perusing the bulleted points on the board. "This is good work," the prosecutor said.

Raf handed him some of the printouts, allowing him to make his own analysis. The special agent began to discuss his.

"He appears to have a close bond with his foster family, seeing that he didn't move out of Massachusetts. As to how much contact he had with Travis, we're uncertain yet," Rafael said.

With that, Bryce pulled up the pictures he took at the correctional facility. He showed it to Raf.

"There were several rows of the same number in the call logs starting a few months back, starting on the day Perry was transferred," Bryce pointed at the records in contention before proceeding. "So I trailed a pattern. I tried looking at the days when that same number didn't appear in the call logs and looked at the visitor records instead. The name Jordan Anderson came up every single time."

"We received a tip!" an agent stood up and approached the two conferring men, interrupting their discussion. "Apparently, Dr. Song called for a car to bring her to the airport this morning. The driver waited in front of ADA Lahela's complex and was about to leave when he saw a suspicious guy in an overall leaving a side entrance. He was carrying a black luggage bag and a woman who the driver thought as drunk. The woman matched her description."

They shared a look, prompting them into action. Rafael pulled up his phone to dial the surveillance room, but before he could, it pinged for an incoming email. It was from an anonymous sender. It contained a video file attachment. He tapped the play button.

It was a dash cam footage. The first few seconds were dim, but it wasn't long before a black car pulled up into the empty road. The vehicle stopped, a male figure emerged from the driver's seat. He opened the backseat door and there was Heather, limp and unconscious, being dragged by a man who shared the same face as the picture in the printouts. Both men's breathing hitched.

The video finished playing when they heard another ping. It was another email from the same sender. This time, it only contained a single line:

24th Avenue, Panacea Pharmaceutical Boston Tower.

"Panacea? Why does that sound familiar?" Bryce questioned, frowning.

"Panacea, as in the Panacea Labs?" the agent inputted, looking at each of them. "Panacea Labs partnered last year with Edenbrook and Mass Kenmore, prompting the construction of a new office downtown. But the company was shut down due to ethical and regulatory violations, halting the project. It was never finished."

"Can someone put up a recent image from 24th Avenue?"

Another agent walked up to them, showing his laptop screen.

There in the image was a faint sign, Construction Ongoing. Underneath it was the word Panacea.

Rafael raised his phone beside the computer, comparing the still frame from the video.

There it was, at the upper left side, the same sign and the same word.

At that moment, both men knew they were only scratching the surface. But they can deal with that later.

Right now, they knew where Heather was. And it's about damn time they get her back.

Taglist @ramsey-lahela @eleanorbloom @choicesficwriterscreations for Fics of the Week

#open heart #open heart fanfiction #rafael aveiro #bryce lahela #choices fanfiction #play choices #choices #open heart 2 #open heart au #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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codedsarcasm-archived · 7 years ago

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- ̗̀ SYLVEON LOVES OC’S ! ̖́-

that alone should be obvious considering just how many oc’s i have and actively write, both on and off this website. i’ve been doing this ( with primarily oc muses ) for about nine years. i’ve been on dozens of platforms, and the same things tended to happen: the oc hate ran me off in the end. even here, i’ve been run off several blogs by it. it’s not fair, it’s not right, and i want to take a moment to share with you guys some of my favorite oc’s that i write with currently:

♡ daayaan has more than earned my admiration. rohini is not only a beautifully constructed, very real character, she is a strong woman of color, she is a way for the writer to connect with and celebrate an absolutely beautiful heritage, and the time & effort put into the worldbuilding and the construction of original lore for this blog has never ceased to amaze me. as a practicing witch, i’m a little hesitant about dipping my toes into witchy roleplay blogs, a lot of them do some very problematic things / overlook very important things, but this blog is so respectful, so informed, so wonderful, and it sheds light on the practice of witchcraft in another cultural context, which i love learning more about every time they post!

♡ freckledbats is an oc multimuse, which just means that there’s even more oc’s to love! z has this way of creating super real, super interesting characters. every single time they add another one, i can’t wait to pile on more threads. i can’t even pick a favorite off this blog. it’s impossible. z is so creative and so talented, and their blog offers so many different muses --- you can see the diversity in kinds of muses created. there really is something for everyone. and z is one of the kindest people i have ever met, and deserves far more recognition for their talent than they get.

♡ gunmetclgrey is one of those blogs that just blows me away by the amount of thought and love poured into one muse. alex is the daughter ( or sister, depending on verse! ) of sebastian moran, but does not in any sense take away from sebastian as a character --- i feel like she adds so much more dimension to his story, but it’s also important to note the dimension of her story! there is such a well thought out backstory, such well thought out verses, such detailed headcanon posts, and sometimes it’s hard for me to remember that alex is not a canon character.

♡ letagin has followed nessa from the beginning --- don’t think i don’t remember your old blog, i recognized aaron’s last name immediately! watching the development of kino as a writer has been an awesome treat but i also got to see aaron develop as a character and i am just so blown away. the lore surrounding this blog is so carefully constructed, so complex and unique, that i honestly sometimes feel like there just has to be an entire book series about aaron and his world somewhere out there published by kino and gods damn it, i wanna read it. and if you think aaron’s awesome, check out kino’s multi ( pasthaunted ) for even more awesome muses.

♡ lcsingstars --- it’s no surprise that my girlfriend’s on the list. but here’s the real reason why. we first met when i wrote a canon character; and virgil’s muse absolutely loved alexina brody. when i kinda lost virgil’s muse, i made nessa again, i missed her, and kiki actually followed me over to this oc. not many people follow a writer from a canon male character to their female oc. obviously i’m glad she did. not only did it end very well for us out of character, it gave me the chance to keep writing with lexi, and to meet some of kiki’s other original characters! every single one is unique and fun to write with. i love them all so much that over 80% of the memes sitting in kiki’s inbox are from me. whoops. seriously, check this blog out. you won’t regret it!

♡ worldvisitor ; i say this all the time but seriously, i’m one of your biggest fans and when i finally get to buy a copy of your book, i want it signed. as somebody who does write ocs from in progress novels, i understand the struggles; as somebody currently trying to finish a book, i understand those struggles too. but you’ve got a best seller on the way, i just know it. reese is such a fantastic character! relatable, hilarious, strong --- and the story you’ve constructed, the world you’ve built up around her, is one of the coolest i have ever heard of. when i was first scrolling through your pages, i just told myself: holy shit this so cool what the fuck. i am so proud of everything you’ve accomplished on this blog and as far as your books go. you fucking rock!

♡ whydragons is my favorite dungeons & dragons based character of all time. i like patrck better than i like a good chunk of my own ocs. he’s always true to who he is, he’s such a good person that it makes us root for him to overcome the bad things, even though he’s an asshole the whole time. it is absolutely no surprise that you’re on this list. grump has managed to bring this character to life in a way that only a theater kid could, i think. he’s currently in multiple d&d sessions i’m running and i couldn’t be happier to get to have him around.

this list is by no means a list of all the oc’s that i love. these are just a handful of my particularly noteworthy mutuals. if you’re interested in some other really cool oc’s i happen to know about, maybe check out: acrimoniious / brumouus / bloodoathed / jungleruler / liimerances / magicmirrored / oftheatrics / peristcra / triumphbred / veinstate / youthdumb ! they’re just as awesome and cool and unique and talented as the oc’s i’ve already listed off. some of them are multis, which again just means there’s even more oc’s to cherish and enjoy! to my fellow oc writers: i hope you get the attention and love you deserve every single day. you have more than earned it and i’m so proud of all the work you put in. you’ve created something incredible, you’ve created something beautiful, you’ve created something. that takes guts, it takes skill, it takes time and effort, it takes a lot out of you. i see you. i see your work. and i love and appreciate all of it.

#❝ ░ witch mom speaking / ooc.#❝ ░ i love you more than free wifi / blog recs.#long post /#i love you all so much !

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frustrated-writer-skyeknight · 4 years ago

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My OCs I'm still struggling to rewrite in my original story.

Here’s the plot so far and in a hiatus lol

🔥

“Thank you for your patronage!” Kyl beams, accepting a payment. “please come again.”

The woman smiles back in response, giving her own thanks before leaving the bakery. As soon as she steps out the shop, the boy sighs in relief, thankful that the last customer he had to deal with today was a mild elderly.

Kyl lets his smile fall with a heavy sigh, massaging his jaw with a hand. He huffs, running a hand through his hair, still peeved about a particularly irksome situation from the morning. He does what he can to give courteous and fair treatment to all customers, but that didn't make it any less aggravating to be polite to the brutes who intentionally made his job difficult, just to mess with him, for spending most of his time inside the bakery.

He knew he was different from most boys his age. Even his friends back home has ambitions of becoming knights or mercenaries in guilds, any job that meant action and adventure. Some of them don’t necessarily have a goal, but are still keen on mastering a weapon of sorts to be able to see the world as a wandering explorer.

As for Kyl, it wasn't that he found it completely satisfying to be a baker, and while he does see the appeal of the excitement that comes with the lifestyle aspired by his friends, compared to his own repetitive routine as a baker, he considers the peace it brings comforting enough. Kyl figured that if he was going to settle with being a baker for the rest of his life, he might as well learn how to deal with a wider range of customers.

Right now, he was assisting his uncle Teodor in his branch.

Teodor was like any typical Hearth family man. He was devoted to his craft, which only came second to his family. Even if it means being short on help, he wouldn’t let his wife, Myrah, lift a finger when she wasn’t in the best condition to do so. He did his best to replicate Myrah’s special recipes for some of their regular customers, but he wasn’t having much luck. The next person who could come close to baking them was his youngest nephew, Kyl. That was why he was here.

Kyl has a lot of relatives and they handle their own branch in their respective hometowns. Although not famous to get nationwide recognition, each was doing well. This was the first time that he was away from home for a long period. Because of a recent brawl which resulted in Myrah’s bad back, they were short staffed. Even though they were just three, they got by well enough. And it wasn't like there were never instances in the past that only two of the three would be the ones working the shop. It was especially the case back when Dru was a young toddler and prone to fever every now and then. Teodor had his fair share of moments when his blood pressure was too high and he needed rest to relieve his stress. But that never took a while, and they'd recover in a few days. This was the first time there needed to be a full month of resting for recovery, and neither Teodor nor his son could compete with Myrah in baking particular products even if they follow her recipe. But somehow, Kyl can come close.

Asides from lending a helping hand, Kyl was curious to find out the different challenges his relatives here faced, since they reside in a larger town. In a way, it was a welcomed change of pace from his dull routine back home. Since his hometown seemed more like a small, remote village than anything else, with a grand total of twenty houses, everyone was a regular customer, and it seemed like they had a fixed time when it came to making a purchase. But Kyl could also see the downside working where business had to be fast-paced in some parts of the day.

On his first day working with them, Kyl was overwhelmed by the number of customers alone and how fast they expected him to serve them. The orders and deliveries almost made him break down. If it wasn't for his cousin, it might have actually happen.

Dru was older than Kyl, and to an extent, taller. His height wasn’t the only thing big about him. Because of the sacks of flour he regularly carried to and from the storage, plus the dough kneading he does daily gave him well-developed biceps and he maintained an admirable muscle tone. That, with his dark, brown hair, and warm chocolate eyes, reels in the young ladies into their shop, sometimes mostly to gaze upon him than to buy bread. With his gangly physique and awkwardly tousled light brown locks, Kyl was envious and can only hope to grow into the same built. His only noteworthy quality in terms of appearance were his green eyes.

Kyl wonders if body size affected temper because his dad had a similar large build, and they both tended to be a bit of a hot-head at certain times. Kyl figured it could also be due to because life in a bigger town being more stressful in comparison to remote villages like his own. His dad said that he used to live in a bigger town in his youth, and he had violent tendencies back then. His cousin wasn’t necessarily violent though, and was nice enough when it mattered. For instance, even when he made a show of how it peeved him to have to pick up after him, Dru made sure Kyl got some learning experience out of it and guided him through it so he could do better the next time around.

He had claimed, “I don't want to keep doing your workload for you, brat, so get it right next time.”

But Kyl realized that his cousin guided him during his entire time with them, at least more than Teodor even when he was present to take over anytime if Dru really didn't want to. Just like this morning with those troublesome guys. While he was given an idea what to expect from difficult customers they usually encountered, he didn’t think handling patrons like those guys would be as irksome as it had been. He almost snapped back at them before Dru showed up and took care of it himself.

His cousin didn't even go about lecturing him about proper work etiquette afterwards, didn't push the point about treating customers nicely at all times like Kyl expected him to.

“People can be jerks without being aware of it,” Dru had said, ruffling Kyl's hair. “don't let them win by showing them how affected you are.”

In the end, Kyl found that he enjoyed the experience in spite of the hardships and difficulties. Plus, he enjoyed spending time with these particular relatives again since the last time had only been a three day visit when he was a toddler. He was almost sorry that he would be returning to the repetitive routine of his small village life soon. But at the very least he would be comforted by how peaceful it was compared to all this.

“Good work today, boys.”

Teodor comes out of the kitchen with Dru, each carrying two small baskets of bread. One basket seemed to have more bread than the other. But while they differ in quantity, their contents remained similar. Both contained , flat leaven manchets, rounder oatcakes known as clapbread made by Dru who can bake them best with a little spicy flare to it, the usual staple white cockets and powdered biscuits, Kyl version, because it didn't exactly capture the taste Myrah manages and only came close. Still, the youngest Hearth felt accomplished that it still sold well, even if it wasn't sold out the way Myrah's batch would've been.

I'm still not done preparing the batch for the local orphanage, but I can take care of it myself. You two handle the priorities for today.”

At the end of each day, the Hearth family always make it a point to give out their leftovers to the less fortunate. It was what Kyl's great grandfather always believed in, that kindness and acts of it goes a long way.

Kindness is the most hopeful provocation, He used to say.

Teodor hands them two sheets of paper. One sheet had a family name written down along with the name of their members plus an address. Then as Kyl looks over his cousin's shoulder, he noticed that the other piece of paper was a slip more than a sheet. It wasn't constructed the same way the other was either. There was only a single word written.

Kean.

There were only two reasons why a person would not have a last name. Either he was a grown orphan, or beings called a Mana user. Humanesque creatures with a questionable place in society. Kyl has never met one before, but from what he can gather by the gossips heard at the town square and the opinions of his family was that they do not contribute much to society, but at the same time, they did not require anything from it either. They seemed to exist for the sake of existence itself. However, since society cannot get anything from them some people find it meaningless for them to exist at all. Until much recently, a law regarding no tolerance for discriminatory acts did not extend to Mana users. Closer study implies that most riots arise due to the instigators’ acts of reproach towards the mentioned Mana users. Therefore, for the sake of holding the peace, a proposal to revise this law was underway.

By this provocation, the instigators are making the most of the time left that they can mistreat the Mana users without consequences.

“Kean...” Kyl mutters, finding that the name was familiar. He mentioned his musings, ‘did he come to the shop recently?’ he wonders. “Did I write a receipt for him, or...”

Dru makes a look. “Yes, because Mana users carry money despite not having jobs.”

“Do they?”

Dru gapes, checking if Kyl wasn't just pulling his leg. He forgot that growing up in a small village had the tendency to make people ignorant of common knowledge in larger areas. Plus, this was Kyl. While he didn't live in the province and just at a small village he could be pegged for a country bumpkin with his level of ignorance.

Teodor smacks his son upside on the head in reprove. “Druant, be nice to your cousin.” he scolds, and Dru realizes he said that out loud by the way Kyl is glaring at him. “Anyway, the answer is no. They don't. It's unlikely because Mana users don't seem to need the same bare necessities that we do. That being said, they don't require money. And the name should be familiar because I mentioned him to you once when we talked about your aunt's case.”

“Oh yeah,” Kyl says. “You said there was a fight. Was this Kean guy involved?”

Teodor nods, “You could say that. While your aunt was the unintended victim, Kean was the targeted one.”

“Except mom seemed have gotten the worse of it.” Dru scoffs.

Theodore frowns at his son. “We don't know that for sure. The fighting stopped when they realized they’ve injured someone else as well.” He says. “We haven’t seen Kean after so we don't know how he came out of it. That’s why he's a priority tonight. It occurred to Myrah and she wants to have it checked out.”

“If we find him,” Dru quips. “Come on, Kyl. Let's get going.”

Teodor calls out after them, “Don’t stay out too long,” he says, “the last thing I need is to tell Myrah you guys were found dead on the streets chewed on by some wild animal.”

“Wait, what?” Kyl blinks, turning back. “what wild animal?”

Teodor laughs, and Kyl figured he was teasing him. He scowls while Dru snickers, “How simple.”

🔥

Once they were outside, Dru opens his mouth and tries to say something. But figuring out what it was, Kyl beats him to it.

“Yeah, I can take Kean’s basket.” He says.

“I, uh…” Dru blinks, his mouth moving wordlessly before he simply nods. “Yeah… okay, thanks.” He gives Kyl the basket with the lesser bread.

Kyl pauses, as if in thought, before speaking once more. “You don't happen to agree with those who beat up this Kean guy, do you?”

“H-huh? Oh…” Dru mutters, worrying his lower lip. “Um, well, of course I don't like it that they started that whole fight because of it. I mean, mom got hurt and…”

Kyl narrows his eyes, “You know that wasn't the question.” He says. “Do you hate their kind, too?”

Since he hasn't really encountered one yet himself, Kyl doesn’t have any real sentiments towards Mana users. However, if they weren’t actually hurting anyone he didn't see how it was justifiable to hurt them or anyone, generally speaking, just because they weren't actively involved in society. He can understand getting annoyed, but anger was a little extreme for him.

“I…” Dru starts before sighing, “look kid, don't get me wrong. I don't hate Mana users, if that's what you mean. At least… I don't think I do. But if you've seen one up close, with the blank look in their eyes as if they weren't even alive… I don't know. It's creepy.”

“I see. But you know, it's okay to be scared. Pretty sure even Knights get like that, I'd be surprised if they didn't.” Kyl says. “I don't think you’d be disqualified just for that.”

“Huh?” Dru's eyes widens. “what are you—”

Kyl rolls his eyes, “Dru, I'm not as simple as you think. I've seen you training late at night when you're supposed to be sleeping like the rest of us. And the bulletin board at the square mentioned needs for recruits.” He says. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure things out.”

“Kyl, you can’t tell dad or mom about this, you hear?”

Kyl frowns. “If I wanted to be a rat, I would’ve mentioned it the first time I saw you training after taking a piss. You really could’ve picked a better, more hidden place to do that if you didn’t wanna be caught, by the way.” He says. “but they’re gonna find out what you're up to anyway, especially once you sign up. And sure, maybe he'll be a bit sad that you're not interested in baking full-time, but I don't think uncle would forbid you if that’s what you really want.”

“Yeah. If. That’s the key word.” Dru sighs, shaking his head. “I’m not really sure what I want either. But I do know there’s more I want to do than be a baker for the rest of my life. I mean, maybe I wouldn’t mind retiring as one. But that’s definitely not all I want to do. You live in a small village, maybe you’re happy with how simple that is. But come on, you can’t tell me that you never thought about it.”

Kyl shifts his weight absently, not sure what to say. “We better get going, don’t you think?” He didn’t wait for a response, already turning and walking off.

Forgetting about one minor detail.

🔥

Kyl groans, berating himself. He forgot that he had no idea where to even look for this Kean fellow. These were the moments that Dru could be justified for calling him simple. Even having a vague description of this guy might’ve been helpful, seeing as those he was asking didn’t care much to give him any useful leads. All he got so far for his efforts were either questioning looks or scorn. He gave up asking when he got the latter, and settled for just winging it. Stopping once more to rest, he leans against a wall of some random home. He’s pretty sure he searched the entire town, at one point he even got lost because some of the houses look the same: two-storey, beige cedars with mahogany doors and red roofs. He had to back track towards the main square to get his bearings.

At the moment, all he can assume was that this guy was homeless with the lack of address, maybe even a hermit if he was the only Mana user in town—or out of town, if that were the case. Kyl definitely wouldn’t want to stay in a place where he was treated poorly. Earlier, somebody did suggest that he ask the last people to have an encounter with him, but the boy had suspicions that they were the cause for his aunt Myrah's condition in the first place and also made her concerned for the guy’s well-being and he definitely didn’t want to have a run in with those types himself.

Therefore, he settled for walking all over town and hoping he gets lucky.

The sun was setting and each step Kyl took was getting heavier. He wasn’t any closer to finding his priority assignment than he was hours ago and it was already passed supper. Certainly, he could’ve just taken some of the bread from the leftover basket but since it wasn’t meant for him, all the more for someone less fortunate than him, it didn’t seem right to Kyl to do that even if he was feeling rather unlucky at that moment. Yet he was exhausted. Still, he didn’t want the bread to go to waste but he wasn’t going to consume them himself. He figured he probably had time to search for someone else before it got too dark.

Just when he turns to the next corner, he finds himself falling forward. Kyl yelps as the contents of the basket were sent flying. The boy groans, pushing back brown fringes from his eyes. He huffed, brushing his hair back.

“Ow…” He winces, getting up slowly. He’s pretty certain he had a scratch or two. ‘I should really watch where I’m going.’ He thought. He gets back on his feet and pats what dirt he can from his trousers. ‘what did I even trip on? It felt thick…’ he muses. He scans the area and a scream catches on his throat. “AH!” Kyl breaks into a cold sweat under a second, and he was legs suddenly felt boneless. Nevertheless, he was about to make a run for it when his conscience caught up with him.

It was a dead body.

As much as he was tempted to do so, he couldn’t just leave it there. Slowly, he approaches the body, making sure there were actually no wild animal that, in hindsight, his uncle might not have been completely joking about. As he got nearer, he realizes that it wasn’t a corpse. At least, the body still felt warm. It was easy to think the person was dead, though. The guy, as it seems to be, was completely motionless that even his chest seemed like it wasn’t moving. The indication that he was, in fact, still among the living was the low moans that escaped his mouth.

Kyl sighs, running a hand through his hair. ‘Well, he’s alive. Now what?’

He couldn’t very well leave this person lying here. He could take him to the nearest clinic but that was right across from the East side square, which was on the other side of town. He considers taking him back with him. His aunt was almost fully recovered so he wonders if his uncle would appreciate another patient to care for.

‘Well… as dad always say, "you’re not a Hearth if you’ve got no heart…."’

Decided, Kyl hefts the guy up, slinging his arm carefully over his shoulder, and wraps his own arm around the stranger’s waist. There was a sound of thunder and the skies grew darker by the time he saw the roof of the bakery.

🔥

Despite their collective surprise, and forgetting their worry on why he was late, they didn’t make much of a fuss when Kyl brought in the guy he found. Teodor didn’t mind caring for another infirm but he was a bit upset about the bread but he eventually got over it.

“Can’t do anything about it anymore, after all.” He says.

Dru was fine with it as long as he didn’t have to share his bed with the guy. Kyl figures it was only fair and he wasn’t oppose to sharing. The guest room wasn’t his own room, after all. After that matter was settled, Kyl went to take a bath and have something quick to eat since it was late and he didn’t want to sleep on a full stomach. Myrah was finished giving the stranger a sponge bath by the time Kyl returned to his borrowed room.

“Hasn’t he woken up yet?”

Myrah shakes her head, “No, but I've taken care of his injuries. No broken bones, which is a relief. He’ll be fine after some rest.”

Kyl smiles. “That’s good to hear,” he sighs. “I’m just glad it wasn’t a dead body mangled by some random wild animal.”

“Your uncle said something again?”

Kyl blinks, “Again?” he repeats. Myrah just chuckles in response and the boy decides to drop it. “Anyway, I’m sorry to have bothered you with this while you’ve just recovered, auntie.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Myrah says with a careless wave of her hand, “my back doesn’t even hurt anymore, and I couldn’t leave this to your uncle or Dru. Those two are hopeless when it comes to tender care.” She rolls her eyes.

Kyl smiles slightly, “Is that why you keep calling me specifically for those massages?”

“Bingo.” Myrah winks, “You know, it’s a bit funny that I had your uncle make sure you get Kean some bread and you ended up bring him home without the bread.”

Kyl cringes, thinking that his family really valued their bread. Then, he starts. “That’s Kean?!”

“Oh goodness, you didn’t know?”

Kyl shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… not at all.”

“Didn’t the hair tip you off? I mean, it’s blue.”

Although there was no explanation, at least none publicly known, all Mana users seemed to have unnatural hair color. In the back of his mind, Kyl did question it once he returned. But since it was dark out earlier, he didn’t notice it at first. He thought the guy had black hair, because the hue was of a darker shade, almost like cobalt. Still, that was the notable difference. When it came to physique, they were similar except Kyl may be more well-toned in comparison, as a result to hours baking.

“I’ll remember that next time.”

“Nnh…”

Kyl and Myrah turns toward the bed. “Oh, he’s waking up.”

Eyes opens slowly, and Kyl understands now what Dru meant earlier. Their eyes really did have an eerie feeling to it, but for some reasons, this made the boy intrigued rather than scared.

“Where am I?”

🔥

Kean’s bleary eyes finds two individuals standing before him, and he recognizes the woman. She had been there when those townsfolk attacked him, but he has never seen the boy before.

“Miss Myrah, hello.” He sits up.

Myrah smiles, walking over to comb his hair back. Kean just continues staring, even while she examines some remnants of wounds that, he notices, were treated. He figures that those needed more time to heal. She didn’t seem to mind Kean’s lack of concern with that way she pokes around his injuries, already expecting the stoic response. Most Mana users, if not all, seemed to possess the quality.

“It’s good to see you awake, Kean. I wondered what happened to you after our last meeting.”

Kean’s expression remained blank. “I am sorry to have caused you worry.” He says with a curt tip of his head. “May I ask how I was brought here though?”

“Ah, that would be my doing, mate.” Kyl answers, “I found you passed out and decided to bring you home.” He grins. “Perfect timing, too. Just before you got caught by the rain and end up sick with the cold.”

Kean replies, “Oh, Mana users do not get sick the way humans do. So it did not really make a difference,” he says. “you could say it was pointless.”

Kyl stares at the Mana user, not having a response for that take on his act of kindness. Myrah watches her nephew, trying not to smile. She may have an idea what was going through his mind.

“Thank you, anyway.”

“Um, wow. Okay,” The boy feels like he should be irritated or something akin to that. However, he found himself just wondering what was the matter with the guy. “Can you say it like you mean it, at least? I mean, with more... conviction.”

Kean’s tone remained as is when he responds. “Oh, okay. I am truly grateful for the unnecessary aid to my predicament even while I was unaware of the needless attempt.”

“Er,” Somehow, Kyle felt even worse than he was with Kean’s first response. “‘Truly grateful’ is not shown on your face at all…” his shoulders sags.

Myrah couldn’t help it this time. She laughs.

🔥

The following day was definitely an interesting one.

During breakfast, Kean was refusing a big portion of the meal Teodor was insisting on him because the man found Kean simply too thin for a boy his age. The Mana user reminded him that they don’t age the way humans do. In addition to that, they did not require an intake of nutrients gained from food consumption since, according to him, 'Simple meditation to be one with nature' was sufficient to keep them going. Both Kyl and Dru shared the same expression; their eyebrows were furrowed, and they had creases on their forehead, staring at Kean first then at each other as if trying to make sense of that explanation. Nevertheless, Teodor still made Kean eat with the notion, 'As long as you can eat, eat. We get food from nature, too.'

Kean had no argument for that.

Afterwards, when Myrah found the poor condition Kean’s clothes were in she had him try on some of Dru’s old clothes. The one closest to his size and proportions was still slightly big on him so she had it adjusted. After putting it off long enough, they finally opened shop an hour later than usual. Teodor said it wasn’t really a problem since the month was almost up and they already made their quota. Kean offered his help since they did delay on his behalf.

That’s when things turned eventful.

Kyl knew that Mana users had strange abilities, but like most things about them, he never really understood exactly how strange. While he didn’t have to mention it out loud, Dru wasn’t wrong in his thinking that living in a small, almost secluded village tended to result in a certain degree of ignorance. Kyl’s first time witnessing these abilities happened by watching Kean all throughout the day.

First, it was with the wooden stove they used for baking. Since it rained last night and they forgot to cover their firewood, Dru and Kyl had a difficult time getting a fire going. Kean decided to lend a hand and ended up overdoing it. Dru and Kyl did stand a little too close, curious to see what Kean would do. He burned the wood a little more than what was necessary, and the fire quickly rose. It consumed the stack of wood and due to the water, the crackling of wood also came with bursts of ashes. Fortunately, no one was hurt and Dru managed to close the steel door to tame the flame before it could escalate. Because of that though, he ended up covered in ash himself. Kyl couldn’t help but laugh even while he was a mess himself, since it wasn’t compared to Dru who almost resembled some kind of gigantic charcoal. The older Hearth didn’t know whether to be more upset with Kean or Kyl. But since the Mana user was giving his apologies, no matter how bland the tone, while his cousin was just laughing his head off he decided that Kyl would be doing most of the dough kneading for the day.

After the initial rush hour, they took a break. While Kean and Kyl were passing by the foyer when they saw Myrah frowning and nagging Teodor over some Orientalis out the back door. Apparently, the flower patches were all wilting because, according to her, Teodor didn’t water them as constantly as he was supposed to. Seeing her distress, Kean steps forward and, with a wave of his hand, he revived the dead flowers, regaining their pinkish vibrancy along with a translucent glow, as if they were freshly bloomed. Myrah widened her eyes before running towards Kean to embrace him in gratitude. Teodor sighed in relief, mouthing his own thanks.

The next event transpired shortly after Teodor declared that they no longer have to bake more bread to replenish their stocks for the day. Kyl and Kean was given the task of organizing the kitchen and take inventory of the remaining ingredients while Dru helped his father in the shop. The ladder was misplaced when the boys went into storage so Kyl had no way of checking the top shelves. Before Kyl could ask Kean to look for it while he double checks the lower shelves to make sure their listings were accurate, the Mana user brought his palms together and blew on them. Kyl eyed him questioningly before he felt light all of the sudden and the next thing he knew, he was floating weightlessly off the ground and higher into the air. Kyl freaked out when his hands reached the ceiling and forgot all about taking inventory; when Dru went to check what the noise was about, he almost had a heart attack. With his attention diverted because of that, Kean ended up dropping Kyl on his cousin.

Finally, Kean and Kyl were sent out to give the day’s leftovers to the chosen priorities. As a precaution, Myrah gave Kean a cloak to wear so those fellows who beat him up before wouldn’t be able to recognize him. Just when they were on their way home, it started to rain once more. Kyl managed to find a tree to stay under, and while they were still being rained on, it wasn’t as bad as when they were out in the open. He suggested waiting it out but then, he saw Kean out there and on the spot he stood, the rain seemed to go around it. He beckoned for him to step out, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he stepped out. The hand outstretched towards Kyl glowed and now, the rain avoided Kyle as well. With that, they made their way back.

However, Kyl was certain that the cloak didn’t serve it’s purpose of concealment after that stunt.

🔥

Kean and Kyl were resting up when they got home, just waiting for supper to be ready. Kyl decided he would work on his swordsmanship since he was returning home tomorrow.

Arriving was simple, since he had a special transportation to get him there directly. At home, despite not having much to brag about, they did have farms that specialized in breeding Aero Aves, large birds that have a gentle nature and have impressive homing instincts. Licensed agencies train these birds to carry passengers along with their packed belongings to long or short distances. But at the time, they only had money for Kyl to take a one-way trip service. There were additional fees if the traveler wanted to have the Aero Aves to come back for a return service. Furthermore, since he was journeying home on his own this time around, he would have to leave town. In spite of it’s large size, the town didn’t have its own port. Therefore, he would have to travel on foot first to the nearest town his uncle said had one so there was a chance Kyl would be running into some trouble.

Myrah wanted to request for an adventurer escort from the local guild, but Kyl refused. For one moment in this trip away from home, he wanted the accomplishment of doing something independently. Still, he did hope that the road to the next town didn’t have wild animals or, worse, strong monsters. He knew that monsters do not normally attack humans unless provoked. As long as he kept to the main road, he would be okay. However, he also needed to consider robbers. Although, in between baking and deliveries, he couldn’t find time nor energy to train regularly so he hoped he wouldn’t be having any of those encounters at all.

“Kyl, are you heading outside?” Kean speaks up just as Kyl was half way out the door, “has the rain stopped?”

“I think so,” Kyl replies, “I just wanna train a bit to prepare for traveling tomorrow. But auntie would kill me if I use my sword inside.”

Kean tilts his head to the side, “I do not believe miss Myrah is capable of such atrocious acts, such is not compatible to her kind nature.” He says flatly.

“Atro…” Kyl frowns, brows creasing before shaking his head. “No, uh, I mean… well, it’s cramped up in here as it is. I’m gonna need more space to move around better.”

Kean nods in understanding, “I see. An open area is optimal for such actions. I’ll accompany you since, yes, I agree. It is cramped inside.”

“Uh... huh?” Kyl was lost for a moment, giving the Mana user time to walk pass him and towards the back exit of the house. “Well, okay then.” He shakes his head before following Kean out.

When they got to the back of the house, just a few feet away from the storage. Kyl starts by working on his stance and repeating basic movements to warm up. After which, he tries to envision possible scenarios, recalling the common wolves that would attack travelers and thinking of the tips his dad gave him on how to handle such an encounter. When he was satisfied enough, he went on to wielding his sword and hitting his imaginary enemy with the blunt side. If he ever did encounter robbers, he didn’t feel good about killing them. He did not believe it was his place to decide who should die. He keeps this up until he his attention was finally drawn by Kean, settled on top of a water barrel. By his still position, Kyl could guess that this was him in meditation, the breathing seemed to follow a rhythm as well. That was when he recalls the conversation from breakfast.

“Is that really filling for you?”

Kean pauses, mid-exhale. He slowly blinks his eyes open, finding where Kyl stood.

‘Er, maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted?’ Kyl winces, rubbing the back of his head. ‘It is meditation, after all…’

If Kean was perturbed by being broken out of his concentration, it didn’t show. “For something to be filling,” he starts. “there must be a containment variable. I am not a container.”

The boy finds that he was getting used to the way Kean spoke, “No, I mean…” he pauses to think, “does it make you… well… not hungry?”

“Mana users do not really experience hunger.” Kean replies, “For humans, food is necessity for the recuperation of energy and nourishment along with water. Internally, my body does not require those intake. However, similar to you, I do require hydration as do all living things in nature. What I am doing now is sufficient in terms of sustenance, if in any circumstances I neglect my meditation practice I would feel sluggish till I am able to do so again.”

Kyl frowns, scratching the lower part of his chin. 'Isn't that similar to hunger in essence?' he wonders, “But then, you're still able to eat food, so...”

“That's because, as sir Teodor stated, food came from nature after certain alterations so I am able to consume them, similar to how I can consume water the way you do. In addition, our anatomy are similar except we do not possess cells and the like.”

“You really need to use small words, Kean.” Kyl sighs, suddenly losing energy to train. “It's hard to keep up with you. How are Mana users different from humans when we look the same?”

Kean pauses, as if in thought, before responding. “You know what Mana is, right?”

“Uh,” Kyl thinks about it, “it's like magic, right?” he says, sheathing his sword.

Kean shakes his head, “No. Mana is considered the power of the elemental forces in nature. Fire, water, wind, and Earth. It is easily understood that Mana users are able to manipulate this power. But what is not known by most humans is that Mana users are Mana themselves.”

“Huh?! You're Mana?”

Kean nods, “Humans possess a certain type of acid that connects them to their roots. Consequently, as we do not possess the same substance, the concept of family does not exist in our kind.” he explains.

“No family?” Kyl frowns, “Then how were you born?”

“I was not born, as such would require a mother and father role. I was formed.” Kean corrects, “Mana users come to be when there is a large amount of Mana force in a given area. Sometimes, we rise from the sea. If that happens then the user would be limited to manipulating water elements. Alternatively, if we come from a volcanic area, then fire elements would be the limitation. In addition, we would have corresponding nullifying effects to their elemental adept. A fire adept are incapable of being burned, and a water adept would be capable of breathing underwater.”

“Huh, well, I guess that makes sense... somehow. I mean, I got the gist and all.” Kyl hums, “But wait, how are you able to control all four elements?” he questions, recalling the events of the day. “Are some specialized Mana users like that? Is there a name for that?”

At this, Kean says nothing. Instead, he looks down in contemplation.

“Uhm, did I say something wrong?”

Kean shakes his head. “No, I just do not have an immediate answer so I was thinking how to respond,” he says, “To be honest, I cannot know the exact area where I came to be. This is one of the things about myself I do not have knowledge of. Most Mana users are able to recall where and that is usually the optimal place for them to meditate. Considering what I told you earlier as well, I do not possess any nullifying qualities either. On some occasions, some areas produce Mana users quite often. If they so wish, those users reside there therefore making themselves into a tribe.”

“Oh,” Kyl mutters, frowning. “does this bother you?” He would be worried himself if he didn't know where he came from, or if he was different from others to that extent; the way Kean seemed set apart from his kind.

“To be bothered implies that I feel apprehension or discomfort, which are somehow manifestations of fear. I am not inclined to emotions so no, I am not bothered.” Kean replies, “I go by survival instincts alone, so I suppose it does not matter where I come as I do not possess that knowledge yet am still be capable of living.”

Kyle frowns, not certain he would actually call that living. His uncle was right when he said that Mana users seemed to exist for the sake of existence alone. He couldn't wrap his mind around it.

'What was it like,' he wondered, 'to be without emotions?' Before he could think up a response, Dru calls them for supper.

🔥

Later, Kyl was preparing for bed when Kean mentions something.

“Huh? You're leaving?”

Kean nods, “I decided to stay here for this day to help out, to give my thanks for their kindness. I would like to leave right now, but miss Myrah insists I stay one more night. I do not really wish to trouble them, but I agreed,” he says in his usual manner. “I will depart come morning, I apologize in advance if I am gone before you wake.”

“Uh, no, well... You don't really have to apologize for that.” Kyl says, “But... you mentioned not having a family, or a tribe. So that means you don't really have any home to return to,” he frowns. “where will you go afterwards?”

Kean shrugs, “Mana users do not require a dwelling. It is inconsequential, as the weather do not normally bother us as much as it does to your kind. Even those in tribes usually do not establish such things.” he tips his head slightly. “I thank you for your concern on my behalf, however.”

Kyl scrutinizes this individual that he has come to know, and he doesn't know how to respond. For some reasons, he didn't want to see him go and never know what would become of him afterwards. Kean seems like a nice guy in spite of his somewhat detached tendencies, which was now explained to him. Still, it didn't seem right to him. It was like having a nice feeling after doing a kind deed that makes it all the more worth doing. For that reason, Kyl always wanted to offer his helping hand whenever he can. But for Kean, it seems like he only saw every single act he does as a form of obligation or the like.

Then, something occurs to him. “You said that you're not inclined to emotions, right?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“But does it also mean you're incapable of it?”

Once more, Kean didn't respond immediately. “I never considered the thought. I suppose it is possible, but it seems inconsequential to surviving.”

“And you're just fine with that?”

Kean tilts his head to the side, “I apologize, may you be more specific?”

“It's just...” Kyl hesitates, “I think it would be better if you were able to feel something every now and then, you know?”

Kean replies, “No, I believe I do not. As I said, such is irrelevant to my kind.”

“It's got nothing to do with relevance.” Kyl says, “I know, I'll show you how it's done!”

Kean just stares blankly, “Show me… How to finish what?”

“No, no that kind of 'done.' I'll show you what it means to feel, how to say 'thank you' with conviction.” Kyl grins, “maybe even teach you how to use simpler words, too.”

Kean continues to stare. “I do not comprehend.”

“Yeah, now you know how it feels.” Kyl rolls his eyes, smirking. “I figure since I'm also leaving tomorrow and you don't really have anywhere to go, why not we just go together?” He beams, “Believe it or not, even if I live in a smaller area, we have more to do since we also got a farm to manage along with the bakery.”

Kean nods, as if in understanding. “I see. So, you require my company for temporary assistance in this endeavor. Very well.” he says.

“What? Wait, no. I mean, I guess your help would be appreciated. But no,” Kyl shakes his head, gesturing with his hands as if to dismiss the idea. “I just... I enjoy your company, I guess you could say, and it would be nice if you could get something out of it as well.”

Kean tilts his head once more, “I have. The quaint accommodations here is well appreciated.”

“Er, not exactly what I meant.” Kyl sighs, “But this is why you're coming with me. Just... Stick with me, okay? Like a 'from now on' thing than a temporary one.”

“Hm,” Kean hums, “I must decline.”

“Huh?”

“This is what you humans call a 'proposal', is it not? I understand that it is something done between a man and a woman, also with the binding emotion of love. I am neither a woman, nor do I feel any such emotion towards you. Also, are you not a little to young to engage in such a thing?”

Kyl’s face feels warm, and he waves his arms dramatically. “No, no, no! That is not what this is!” he protests. “Sheesh, why do you have to make it weird?”

“I see. Sorry for the misunderstanding.” Kean tilts his head forward, “You are red."

Kyl gives him a certain look, "Wow, wonder whose fault that is..."

"I believe it's mine; I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable." Kean said, "I am not accustomed to any human asking for a long period of companionship with me; you are quite strange, Kyl.”

Kyl glares at him, “You're the last person I want to hear that from, mate.”

“All the same, I must decline.” Kean tells him, “I do not wish to trouble you, and a long term connection, which you are requesting, can prove bothersome.”

Kyl raises a brow, “What do you mean?”

Suddenly, they heard some vague noise that later turned into disturbing racket. “This is what I mean.”

🔥

“What on Gaea...” Kyl trails off as he and Kean reach the ground floor, the noise only getting louder.

They follow it, and head towards the bakery kitchen then through the threshold leading to the shop's counter. Kyl walks towards the windows and find a group of men swarming their main entrance, their outsize arms flexing as they visibly attempt to push pass the double, oaken doors. He even notices that they were the same guys who messed with him the day before. Dru pushes against the force to keep them at bay, his corded muscles ripples under the strain.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Dru's head jerks in reaction, but he keeps his focus on the door. “Maker's name... Kyl?! Please tell me Kean's upstairs!” he grunts.

“I am here.”

“Damn it!” Keeping his weight against the door, he turns around in favor of looking at the other two, “you're the last people I wanted coming over. Where's dad?!”

Before Kyl can answer, Myrah steps in the room next and Dru almost cries in dismay till she opens her mouth. “Your father's making sure our other entrances aren't being broken into. He escaped afterwards to look for the local knights.” she says.

“What's going on?” Kyl repeats, frowning. “Why are those men trying to get in at this hour?”

Dru glares, not in the mood to be answering any questions. “Search me! Whatever it is, it's definitely not for our bread!” he grumbles. “Now get back in your room with mister magic there!”

“That is not my name.”

Dru lets out a long-suffering groan.

“Are those the guys who beat Kean up?”

Dru huffs and in-between grunts, answers. “Kyl, for eternia'sake, you really are simple. Can you not understand the situation?! Now, help me or shut up!”

Kyl huffs indignantly, but goes over anyway and helps Dru push back. Kean raises a hand and ask if he could do anything to help, to which the cousins collectively responds with a loud, 'No.' Kean puts his hand back down and walks away, most possibly back to their room like earlier instructed.

Eventually, the weight on the door suddenly lessened, and the shouting ceased while a stern, authoritative voice was heard. A knock comes from the door, along with the familiar voice of Teodor.

“It's me, Dru. Open up.”

Sighing in relief, Dru rolls his shoulders to stretch out the kinks. Kyl opens the door in his stead, revealing his uncle on the other side speaking with an unfamiliar man. His hair was slightly below shoulder length tied back by a black cord, its pale golden color shines against the dim light of the bakery, he was also dressed in an Adventurer's garb; he wore a long, deep blue inner tunic, a scarlet sash wraps around his waist with a scabbard secured against it. There, the man sheaths his weapon, a two-handed Claymore, which may indicate that the adventurer was left-handed. Kyl wonders if he actually used it earlier, or if it was just to intimidate the men.

The man exchanges a hand shake with Teodor before he pauses, and looks over to Kyl who stiffens at the sudden attention but he relaxes at the stranger's easy smile. His jaw was defined, almost as well as Dru's, maybe even more so. It was also clean-shaved, as if the man grew a beard frequently and had to shave as much.

“I couldn’t find any knight,” Teodor explains, “Thank the reapers, I ran into this fellow.” He says, gesturing to the man.

The adventurer bows his head, “Always a pleasure to lend my services,” he says, “My name is Lyxander.”

“Thanks for your help, sir.” Kyl says, “I’m Kyl.”

The man nods towards him, but diverts his attention to Dru. “And your name is?”

“Me? I’m Dru, short for Druant.”

Lyxander hums, sizing him up carefully. “You seem to have the makings of a great swordsman,” he muses, “How’s your training, Druant?”

Something about that catches Kyl’s attention. It wasn’t any doubt that Dru had an impressive built, but most men didn’t necessarily acquire that physique only through the training of a knight and such, all the more was it how one would be identified as a swordsman.

“Actually, he’s a baker.” Teodor interjects, “What he knows of such a thing is enough to get him by a journey from one town to another.”

Lyxander looks between Dru and his father, the former seems be fidgeting quite a bit. “Oh, I apologize. I didn’t realize that…” he pauses, “well, never mind. If you are ever interested, I am looking for companions to accompany me in a… well, let’s call it an undertaking for now.” He smiles, “I will share more, should you choose to express interest; I will be at the guild. Have a good night, now.”

“Well,” Teodor hums, scratching his backside. “that was an odd exchange.”

Dru takes a breath before speaking, “Dad,” he starts, “can we talk?”

“Hm?”

Kyl looks at his cousin, and understanding dawns on him. “I’m going to check on Kean.”

🔥

A few minutes later, the conversation moved inside with Myrah now included. Dru explained his intentions of exploring the world, as he did not find the fulfillment in being a baker all his life. Teodor listened all through his ramblings, which Dru didn’t expect at all. Finally, the man sighed when his son promised he would remain long enough for them to find a suitable replacement.

“No, son.” Teodor says, “there’s no point, the Hearth bakery is run only by the Hearth family, and those married into it. That’s how it’s always been. We’ll keep the shop going as long as we can manage, but if it’s time, then we’ll close it down.”

Dru widens his eyes, “You don’t have to do that,” he says, “I won’t be gone forever, I’ll come back, once I’m ready to settle down.”

“Are you sure?” Myrah asks, her tone mild, “you just said you do not find fulfillment in being a baker. If you don’t find it fulfilling now, it can’t be certain that you will later on.”

Dru frowns, his eyes now downcast. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…��

“Don’t feel guilty, son. I’m not doing this out of spite,” Teodor promises, “All things must reach its end, even those things that we’ve found solace in for so long. Such is the nature of life.” He says, “what’s important is that you find what it’s worth. May the Maker guide you in this path, son.”

Dru looks back up, smiling at his parents. He stands and goes over to wrap them in his arms, “Thank you...”

The small family remains that way for a short while, when Kyl comes running into the room in haste. The three breaks contact, and turns towards the young lad who seems out of breath.

“What’s up?”

Kyl frowns, shaking his head. “I think Kean left.”

🔥

Kyl and Dru made preparations to leave the following morning. All the while, Kyl couldn't believe Kean actually left without a proper good bye. It may have something to do with him being a Mana and not having the courtesy to do so, but he had enough of that to return the favor by helping them run the shop yesterday. Plus, Kyl did say he wanted Kean to accompany him when he returns home. It's true that they were still talking about the matter, and Kean had yet to give a confirmation. In fact, the Mana user did imply that it would be an inconvenience for Kyl if he were to keep him company. However, since it wasn't settled Kyl had hoped Kean would reconsider.

"Why do you even care so much?"

Kyl looks towards Dru, pausing in his task of checking if he was all packed, "Huh?"

"About Kean," The older Hearth clarifies, "You said you guys got interrupted before anything was settled, but the guy did say it wasn't a good idea. That's pretty much his say on the matter. Taking it in face value, he declined."

Kyl frowns, shaking his head. "But it wasn't going to be any trouble for me, and he left before I could explain that to him."

"Kyl, he's a Mana user." Dru reiterates, "He managed this long without emotional attachments, he can do without it. Now come along, I need to walk you out town before heading to the guild."

Kyl frowns as he watches Dru making his way out. He should've known better than to explain his case to him. While they were as close as they can be, considering their age gap, they didn't share the same ideals most of the time. Moreover, Dru did give his sentiments regarding Kean's kind and while he didn't detest them to the extent of wanting to hurt them he also didn't sympathize with Kean the way Teodor and Myrah do, the way Kyl does. Resigned, Kyl double checks his things before following him out.

Dru walked Kyl out town before heading to the guild to talk with Lyxander, and most probably get his adventurer certification. With a backer, he would be able to acquire it within the day. Kyl wished him good fortune even as he didn't know how to feel about his cousin's decision; that it could mean the Hearth Bakery closing shop in this town in the later years. He considered talking to his parents about moving in with them officially; his relatives weren't getting any younger and while Dru promised to visit whenever he was nearby Kyl wanted to make sure they're checked on regularly.

Before that, he needed to get home.

So far, staying on the path was working well for him. The only encounters he had were the regularly rabbits and fawns, who scurries away at the mere sight of him as he was more likely to predate on them than they were to him. Before he could think he would arrive to the next town with no trouble at all, he encountered said trouble though not in the form he expected.

There was a creature caught in a net, suspended off the ground. It growled, trying to claw its way out. Kyl notices that its tail was short, its hind legs were longer than its front legs. With this, he figures it was some kind of lynx. But it was strange because, as far as Kyl knew, this region of Gaea didn't have packs of wild felines roaming around. Bears and wolves were more common if he wasn't mistaken, and while he usually is, his father made sure he knew and remembered what kind of wild animals he would most likely run into heading back home. The second thing that bothered Kyl was the fact that it wasn't hunting season, so it was only tolerated to attack wild animals if they attacked first, making this lynx a victim of poachers considering that it was caught and now hanging in a net.

This brought Kyl to his third problem. 'How do I free it without getting attacked myself?'

He frowns, wondering if he should return to town and report the issue. But then if the offenders were on their way back to collect their prize, they would be able to get away before the local knights would be able to do anything about it and take the lynx with them. Then, Kyl remembers the packed lunch his aunt gave him before he left.

"Okay, here goes."

Kyl walks towards the trapped lynx. As expected, once the creature sees the brunette approaching, he starts to growl and snarl at him. Kyl flinches a bit, his hands going up instinctively. He bends over and lays a pair of underwear—one he was looking for a reason to get rid off for a while since he really didn't like how itchy it was. He places pieces of meat on top of it and looks up at the lynx.

"All right, I'm not going to hurt you. See? You can even have this after I free you."

The lynx stares back at it, and for some reasons, Kyl thought it was giving him an a certain expression and he could picture Dru giving it to him. He shakes his head and climbs up the tree and the lynx actually stops snarling, and was just observing him. He sat on the branch that the net was tied on before cutting it with his sword. He hasn't sharpen it in a while, so it took a few seconds before breaking through completely. The lynx drops to the ground and, with remarkable precision, untangles itself from the net easily enough. It walks towards the offering, swiping it off the garment before devouring the meat and jumping towards the bushes and away from the area.

Kyl narrows his eyes and jumps to the ground, picking up his underwear with the tip of his sword. "Guess it didn't like you, either." he places it back inside his bag, before turning and continuing on his way.

When he saw a group of men running towards him; familiar men, at that.

"You—" The one at the front, the self-proclaimed leader whom Kyl thinks goes by the name of Jinn aims a glare right at him, casting side glances at the ruined trap. "a scum-lover, now a rotten vandel? You just love pissing us off, don't you?"

Kyl frowns, "Scum lover? Are you talking about Kean?" he grumbles, clenching his fist. "a scum for something he is, as oppose to hunting animals off season and going against the law?"

"You really love to test my patience, don't you?" Jinn glowers, stepping forward.

[Narrative plot of Kyl being rescued by the lynx, now in a humanesque form. I haven’t written it yet lol. I’m bad at action scenes.]

"You're welcome, and before anything else I would like to highlight that when you're offering food, don't put it on top of your underwear."

Kyl cringes at that, "It's clean."

"Not the point," Lynx made a look, "How would you feel if someone served you a meal on their underwear?"

The brunette rubs the back of his head, "Well, I thought you were an animal so..."

"That's an offense to animals everywhere; most pick their food off the ground, not where your genitals have been."

Kyl's cheeks turns flush, and he decides not to reiterate that it was, in fact, clean.

#Myart #OC #Original story

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heroesarelife · 7 years ago

Text

So here’s a piece I have been working on for the beautiful @fandom-trash95 as a secret santa gift <3 it was not a request, but I hope you guys enjoy it just the same ^^ i was experimenting with a different writing style and exploring ways to play with structure a bit.

This is an All Might piece with their OC, Aiko, in a platonic capacity. Aka: dadmight goodness.

Aiko has a telekinectic sort of quirk, and is the daughter of a known and loved local hero (made up). That hero is in fact abusive and nobody would believe her about it, so her actual hero/example is her mother due to her strength of character. She’s 15 and wanting to go into heroics through gen ed. Does not ken how to fight.

Takes place after All Might’s true form is revealed and after his injuries are healed.

Word count: 2397

Warning: May contain mentions of abuse. Hinted depression/anxiety. Body dysmorphia. So so much angst.

It was either too early or too late, depending on how one looked at it. Toshinori liked to think it early, blissfully choosing to ban his ever so frequent restless nights from his memory. It was a brand-new day and, he decided, so should be his attitude towards it; novel and unwearied. With that fresh thought playing in his hopeful mind like a scratched disc, the once number one hero found himself jogging in the UA yard.

Many years had passed since he last felt the need to care for his body in this way. His whole self had been, for as far as his remembrance could reach, defined by healthy strength and sheer power, especially once he acquired his quirk – or rather, a quirk he had made his own through no small struggle. But before that, he would run. As fast as his legs could bear him. Going against time, fighting all odds that seemed strategically designed to disturb his desired path and crash his dreams. Only to find there was no end to his pursuit, no matter if he was called a hero, let alone number one. Even as the indefatigable media and dry-cut history books branded him as the pillar of peace, a bringer of hope in a world so deeply rooted in chaos. And he had foolishly believed the tales, if not in themselves at the very least moved by the feeling behind them. Allowing himself to be what was needed of him without sparing a passing thought to the limits that time imposed. To the chilling reality of his own mortality.

A merciless thing now forced upon Toshinori’s existence. Declaring its presence in every pained step of his flimsy excuse of an exercise. Felt throughout the junctions of his shaking joints, of the miserable wetness of his ragged breath. Making him so very painfully aware of how he was now reduced to nothing but a sorry shadow of his old splendour; a fragile creature, stripped of anything he once understood as intrinsic parts of himself. An antique in his own right. His body so unrecognizable to him as it was a stranger, a thing more dead than alive, glued together entirely by angled bones, stale blood and deep regret. The sudden notion filled him with unbearable anxiety, scratching him raw from the insides of his already too bleary structure.

He stopped then, battling to breathe, to stand. To be alive. Unsure on whether his struggle arose from the physical effort or the oblique fear he so wanted to deny. It was truth too: long had passed since he felt afraid, so much so he had barely lost grasp of its meaning. He couldn’t say he missed the emotion.

Dry leaves crackled a soft sound under his body as he sat gingerly on the grass. Resting. Regretting. Every contained movement an apology, as if abashed for the space his existence occupied in the world. Dawn approached timidly enough, traces of light prying holes through the dense clouds. In his current state of mind, the golden hero felt it was a fitting mirroring of his own soul; it laid helpless while dark thoughts hammered it with unforgiving fervour.

It was decidedly a bad space of mind to be, and he would have likely been stuck on that miserable vicious cycle for a long – well, longer – time, weren’t for the curious sounds. Subtle and distant, masked by the gentle ruffle of leaves and careful bird’s twitting. Out of place and yet familiar. Immediately recognizable despite its faintness, like a road travelled often and again as to be found even if blindfolded.

He got up, painstakingly and insecure on these foreign limbs, and followed the invisible trail, finding his way through air rather than soil. Sure enough, there it was. The source of the sounds stood tall amidst the hidden training ground, the unmistakable energy of a striving hero surrounding the young girl’s body; much more telling than the evident exercise could ever be. And Toshinori had some pride in his ability to recognize a hero’s soul at first glance. Something that proved useful on his particular line of work. Or what used to be, he corrected himself hurriedly, with no shortage of shame.

She hadn’t noticed his presence, and he was thankful for the small blessing. The slender girl was deeply engrossed on her own exercise, which seemingly consisted of eradicating a piteous wooden dummy existence to no more than shreds and broken pieces. An objective, he was quick to realize, she was failing at. She staggered on her feet, all movements uncertain in nature, uncoordinated jabs and kicks throwing the promising strong body off balance, uneasy, coy. Lacking the motivational energy he could so clearly see she possessed. As if her soul and body were in disarray, somehow disconnected from each other.

When the growing frustration apparently reached a marked limit, the youngster let out a fiery scream, her quirk lashing out in chaos. An invisible force throwing all the training equipment far and high, the shocking crashing sound putting to flee all the poor unsuspecting animals on the immediate vicinity. The so-called symbol of peace had approached – or so he must, at a given point, since he found himself close to the border of the training ground, staring at the wreckage it had become. In plain sight for the student to see him, which promptly happened, her body turning with impressive smoothness despite the anger, and haunting suddenly, shakenly.

He could have understood – was in fact half expecting – if the girl had blown up on him, seeing his presence as prying and as added pain to injury. Or maybe she would shy away, embarrassed to have had a witness in that singular moment. Or, more irrationally, somehow starstruck by being face to face with no one other than All Might. Instead, he was humbled. In an impressive demonstration of self-awareness, she stood still, silent. Chin up and clenched trembling fists the only indications of possible nervousness.

He bowed his head slightly and forced a smile, raising his hands in peace. Attempting to ease the situation. “That was a nice quirk, indeed, young student! I’m impressed I haven’t noticed you in training before with the rest of the class.”

Immediately, he realised he had said the exact wrong thing. Instead of relaxing into casual conversation, she kept her position, something like hurt moving behind her eyes and then hidden masterfully. He would have been impressed, had he not been busy feeling terrible.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” She answered dryly, resenting. “You all only look at heroics. I’m with general ed.”

Giving himself a metaphorical slap, he grimaced. The girl wasn’t wrong. However, typical of its dry nature, plain truth tended to be a hard pill to swallow. He opened his mouth. Changed his mind. Closed it again. Was no matter; she wasn’t paying attention.

“I don’t care about how difficult it is. I have my mother’s quirk, and I will become a hero just like her.” The bold statement carried within an odd note, almost as in a rehearsed conviction. If you repeat it enough times, it becomes true.

Conveniently saved from giving a proper answer about the failed school system, he lashed onto the opportunity. “Is your mother a pro, then? What’s her hero name? I might know her.”

A head shake. Firm, emphatic. “No. I said she’s a hero, not a pro. My father is a pro, but he’s not a hero.” Her voice raised slightly at that, hard with challenge. “Do you know the difference?”

The sudden serious topic caught Toshinori unawares. A kind being, he took no offense from the remark, allowing it to simply exist instead, harmlessly floating in the air between them. Of more importance was the feeling behind it, he decided. Because he could see the apprehension, the sad belief driving the words. The adult in him very much conscious of the surprisingly complicated anguish he could see on the youngster’s expression. It clenched at his heart, a feeling of protection rising there, as vivid as it was strange.

“He doesn’t deserve to be called a hero.” She went on. Maybe to fill the silence. Or maybe to assure herself. And then raising her head, sudden and abrupt, looking at him with something like sorrowful acceptance. “But you don’t believe me. No, you wouldn’t. Nobody does.” Her voice faltered, its shakiness being covered by a flimsy laugh.

He smiled softly, somewhat saddened. Dropping altogether the attempts of redirecting the conversation towards safer topics. She was having none of it, and he too had to admit he lacked the will to keep the pretence. Toshinori struggled. Lost in the situation and yet the need to help overcame him, despite not quite knowing how. The way he knew wouldn’t work anymore. Those days were over.

He reached a hand, placing it awkwardly on her shoulder, hoping it would bring comfort.

“I believe in you, young lady.” He said then, finally. The honesty of his words matching hers. “I still have enough integrity within me to recognize the truth when it stares me in the eye. Or so I like to think.” And that was, perhaps, the only honest thing that passed through his lips in a rather long while. Such recognition shook his structure to the core. What a hero he was.

Her eyes widened, unbelieving. And then, simply and acutely, filled up with raw emotion. She looked as surprised as him by the sudden outburst, but the intensity of it overcame her with such power he could clearly see it was beyond of her control.

He squeezed her shoulder gently, in assurance. “It’s okay. You can let go.” And she did, burying her face in both hands and allowing the feeling to cleanse away, escaping through her fingers and dripping onto the earth, like pure offerings of liquefied frustration.

This he could handle. This he knew, maybe a bit too much, he thought with no small amount of endearment, remembering the kind boy he had chosen as his successor. So Toshinori stood close, solid and understanding, hoping that would be enough as he, too, was depleted of much more to give.

Slow and sure the shaking under his hand subsided to smaller intervals, until all that was left was the relieved weakness that usually followed breaks of such strong nature. She took a step back, sniffing through the emotional hangover and wiping clumsily at the wet cheeks. It did not escape his eyes on how she now looked lighter, as if the irons trapping her limbs had been removed at once. He sighed, relieved.

“Do you think I can make it?” The girl asked then, somewhat shyly, eyes cast down.

“Make it?”

“Into heroics. With my quirk, I mean.” She clarified, looking up and facing him directly. “You are All Might, right? So you should know. If it’s possible, for me.” She finished, lamely.

Toshinori looked into the youngster’s dark eyes, sparking with the threat of controlled tears, recognizing in its depth the longing so akin to his own; bridging past, present and future. The hardship and fear. And the buried hope, hidden in such a way as to not show itself overmuch. Dreading what would become of it if her dream got pulverized to dust by the cruel mortar of reality. Because so he could understand, some things didn’t change.

“Well, I’m not very mighty right now.” He said for lack of something better, scratching the back of his head, at a loss. Feeling thoroughly inadequate for what this one child needed; all too aware of how little he was reduced to. How less of anything he currently was.

“You are still All Might.” Came the answer. Not surprise, nor judgemental. Rather she sounded puzzled, almost delicately curious. As if pointing out an obvious answer. “Nothing is ever created or lost, only transformed, right?”

That took him aback. A deep part of him – a fearful one, always ready to hold onto self-depreciation – reacted strongly, prompting him to reject the wild notion at once. Holding his stand, he looked at his hands instead, pensively. They were big and callused, angled and rough around the edges, used and abused for many years to count, winning against a multitude of enemies. Keeping the piece through sheer strength and peril. While still the same size, they were now frail things, almost disconnected from the rest of him, a reminder of what he could never do again.

But as the girl stared at him expectantly, he thought that maybe it was less a matter of fact and more of interpretation. Free transformation. Perhaps there were people he would never be able to reach as his old self that he could in his current form. With these very same hands. And perhaps a little too late in his life, he came through the rather rattling realization that some things could only be effectively handled through a more complex touch than a shallow-minded punch could ever allow. He closed his fist slowly, considering the perspective that there was something else his fists could hold onto. And protect.

Well, wasn’t truth found in the oddest of places? But Toshinori has never been a picky one.

“The problem” He began, decisively. She raised her head in interest, her ears metaphorically peeking up to absorb whatever he was about to say, while carefulness and fear still lingered in her eyes. “Is not your quirk. But your fighting ability. If you train that and master how to use your quirk alone, you can become a powerful hero.” He said, meaning every word. “I could teach you some of the basics.”

She smiled then. Finally. It was a bright thing that he would like to see more of. Yes, this was the right decision. Maybe there was more to him, and to everything he had gone through, than the ability to defeat new villains with mindless power. He could still do things that would bring meaning to the world, even if not in the straightforward and simplistic way he had grown used to.

Hope had not been born with him, and wouldn’t die with his last breath either. If he could make sure that it would live through and be translated with the next generation of heroes then maybe, he thought, a single Symbol of Peace would no longer be necessary.

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#yagi toshinori #toshinori yagi #all might #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #bnha oc #bnha #mha #scenario #scenarios #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #platonic #original content #angst #amethyst #amethyst scenarios

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