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lynneshobbydomain · 4 years

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Vengeance Chapter 11

((Thank you all for your likes and your reblogs. Your support means the world to me. Thank you to @sinfulwonders for betaing this mess of a chapter. I do apologize that it took so long to come out.))

Rated: M

Summary: Amateur Detective Shuichi Saihara knew that searching for the "Usual 16" wasn't going to get him anywhere. The disappearances weren't being tracked in any news outlet, and very few families even tried to come forward to ask for help, let alone to report them missing. Yet, Shuichi can't shake off the feeling that there's a reason behind the disappearances, and he's close to the answer.

He just didn't realize that the answer was going to hit close to home, in more ways than one.

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You can read under the cut or go to my AO3!

Both Shuichi and Kokichi stared perturbed as they watched the hand slowly fade out from existence. Neither of them moved, or breathed. Shuichi could feel the cold sweat break out on his forehead and on his neck, his hand gripping onto Kokichi’s hand tightly enough to break fingers or bone. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. He watched as all the other players were frozen solid with the same expression painted on their faces. Thoroughly terrorized and silently crying as they realized what their fate could be. A killing game. Until now, until seeing that, Shuichi didn’t realize the gravity of the situation. He knew that time was against them, he knew that the votes counted. He knew tha the motives and the murder were all part of it...but seeing it come to life. Knowing that this was the end for someone who decided to try to get out…

Shuichi felt his throat go dry and everything felt too real and not enough. He felt Kokichi try to dislodge his hand from his and he realized that he was making it harder for Kokichi to escape. He quietly detangled his fingers from his boyfriend’s and watched as Kokichi left his room. He didn’t doubt Kokichi was going to go to the restroom and empty out his stomach. It was a brutal execution. It was…

There were really no words for what this was. Shuichi numbly shut the laptop’s cover and placed it underneath his bed, as though hiding it from view would make what he saw disappear from his mind. The room was spinning and blurring in and out of his vision and Shuichi reached up to rub his eyes of the tears that were starting to fall down his cheeks. His shoulders hitched and his stomach dropped another rock into the bottomless pit of anxiety and depression. He curled in on himself, unable to stop the tears or the sobs that flowed. He was scared. He was terrified. He didn’t realize, he didn’t think about how far Danganronpa was willing to go for excitement, for entertainment. He wanted to be sick, he wanted to scream.

A murder was a mercy in that game, Shuichi was starting to realize numbly. It was a horrible, terrible mercy. Mercy wasn’t supposed to look like violence. A mercy killing usually was quicker, painless. Like knocking someone out with the gas and trying their hardest to slit their throat, despite knowing that it wasn’t going to work.

The execution wasn’t a mercy. It was torture. It is a punishment, just like Monokuma called it. Just like he had warned everyone ahead of time. Get caught, and it wasn’t a fast death. It wasn’t anything that the students could come up with on their own.

Shuichi felt something tug at him, reminding him that maybe he should check in on Kokichi. He watched it too. He was suffering by himself, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t find any reason to move. His body continued to shake and he continued to cry and his thoughts were just spinning over the same scene again, and again, and again. Stuck on an endless loop. A repeat. It was probably a mercy that Danganronpa muted the screams of the tortured.

The door creaked open and Shuichi used what little energy that he had to look up from his knees to see Kokichi coming back. The shadows of Shuichi’s room gave Kokichi’s face a darkened mask. His eyes were clear of haze or any type of emotion, a facade that wasn’t well fitted around his face yet. He quietly got back into the bed, snuggling as close as he possibly could to Shuichi. He leaned his head against his shoulder and mindlessly started to rub circles into his back and shoulders, and then letting his hand trail up to massage the side of Shuichi’s neck. Shuichi could feel how swollen his neck felt from the lingering touch, and he melted into the embrace as though he were a puddle, trying to gather as much warmth and comfort as he could from his boyfriend. He also reached, and gripped onto Kokichi’s arm, reaching for any little hug that he could give.

Neither of them broke the silence that covered them like a weighted blanket. It was hard to find a way to shift around the smothering tension. Shuichi wanted to break the silence and wanted his brain to stop looping Yadori’s skating.

The bears and how they skated, skated, skated.

How she slipped and fell.

How Monokuma prepared for that, using it as a way to turn the thermostat up.

Her falling into the melted ice.

Her being unable to reach the surface because of the weight of her skates, and being froze over.

Her drowning underneath the surface as-

“Stop.” Kokichi whispered and the thoughts quieted just a little. He could feel it in the background noise in the back of his head, but there was a more present sound that he could hear. He could feel Kokichi adjust his hold and Shuichi caught his scent, breathing in soft as he let it relax him just a little. “Breathe with me, beloved.”

Shuichi knew he was hyperventilating but he couldn’t stop the train now that it was going. His chest and shoulders ached. Everything felt too close and real, and too far away and fake. There were black spots that were just at the edge of his sight, and he could only assume it was from the panic and not from the silhouettes clamoring for his attention. He could hear Kokichi breathing, loud and steady. He tried to follow the pattern, but it was...it was a lot. Everything was a lot. It took a few tries, but soon enough they were breathing in and out the same song and Shuichi let it lull him into a state of wanting to fall asleep, and being wide awake.

“Let’s try to sleep.” Kokichi’s voice was still ever so quiet against the thick blanket of doubt and fear. Shuichi held onto it as though it was the only way out of the darkness that was his thoughts, that was reality. The boys maneuvered themselves so that they were lying down, and Kokichi reached over and turned the light off.

Neither of them dared to close their eyes, but neither of them were willing to break the silence again.

When morning broke, Shuichi wasn’t sure if he had been chasing Kokichi through more rooftops that he thought was possible, or if Honor got a little too over-excited about teaching Shuichi how to defend himself. His stomach felt punched. His eyes were irritated and itchy, not enough rubbing in the world soothed the pain and only made the swollen skin worse. His body complained and cried out, remembering that he spent all night in an anxiety attack that just wouldn’t fade. Nothing about the morning felt inviting. He knew for a fact that school was a far away option right now, and he knew that Kokichi was probably feeling the same. He could smell breakfast cooking, but instead of feeling his stomach wake up to hunger, it twisted painfully and reminded him that food was probably not the best idea at the moment. He rolled over to his side and saw that Kokichi was lying on his back, absently staring up at the ceiling, his arms crossed under his head.

Telling him good morning felt like a joke. It tasted like salt and sand in his mouth. Shuichi swallowed it back and decided not to. Instead he reached over and gently tapped on Kokichi’s stomach. Three small, lingering taps. Kokichi didn’t startle, nor was he fazed when he looked over at him. His eyes were as bloodshot as Shuichi’s felt. How long had he stayed up with his own tears and demons? It made Shuichi twist in distress. Neither of them had words.

What they saw felt like a nightmare, a bad dream that could rival someone's sleep paralysis for a month. Shuichi could still see bright blood underneath a layer of ice and a hand banging against it, pleading for mercy. Pleading for help.

He tried to shove it all to the side. To later sort through it. He couldn’t afford to skip class again, and he didn’t want to rely on Kokichi either. They both had universities that they wanted to get into, if they could. Well, Shuichi did. Kokichi was...very much someone that lived on the edge. Whether or not he was going to go to college was just as up in the air as what dinner plans might be tonight. Never known until the last minute or so.

Shuichi could barely taste the food that he was eating, let alone keeping track of grabbing his things. Nothing felt real. He wasn’t sure the room he was in was real. He wasn’t sure if he was in or out of his body. Shuichi’s gaze went from trying to get his things together, to the backpack that was still on his chair. His gut twisted uncomfortably. He needed to text his uncle about that. He should have done it yesterday, but had gotten distracted instead. He knew that going to class was important, he knew that he needed to get the grades. He could drop the backpack off afterwards, but…

Time wasn’t a luxury they could afford anymore. Shuichi knew the game would continue to roll now that someone had been brave enough to shed first blood. He abandoned his backpack in favor of grabbing Aki’s. Kokichi had already left. They went their separate ways to school anyway, and even though Shuichi tried to walk him as far as he could, Kokichi knew that he didn’t like to feel late to anything, and tended to leave anyway.

He picked up her bag, feeling it’s weight in his hands. Shuichi wondered how much this was going to help, and how much of this was just going to hinder the investigation. Shuichi wasn’t sure if his uncle was aware of how Danganronpa worked, and since he was voting and actively a part of the chat logs, Shuichi knew that he was guilty by association.

Being a detective was going to be a far off dream if he got caught, or if someone figured out that Shuichi was a part of the game. Shuichi loved his job but….

It wasn’t worth the secrecy. Shuichi shifted the bag onto his shoulders and decided to go to his uncle’s agency. He could feel the cold sweat against his skin as he headed outside, but there wasn’t time for take backs or second guesses.

Two deaths were enough. Two deaths were too much in Shuichi’s mind. He should’ve been faster. Not that it would do anything. If all of his theories were true, and Danganronpa really did have a hand in the government or in the police force, then there was a good chance that all of the evidence that Shuichi collected thus far was just collecting dust on someone else’s desk.

Even if it was unethical to do their own search for their own family member, Shuichi couldn’t scramble up a good reason to hand it off to someone else.

The detective agency was a hole in the wall building that was squished in between two large office buildings that were imposing and harsh. As many people walked by, barely anyone took a good look at the building. His uncle had a superstition that they shouldn’t be found until someone absolutely needed them, and the statement was accurate. More times than Shuichi could count when he was a child, did a woman or a man walk into the agency, never knowing that it had been there for years, requesting a case or a missing person’s file or something. Most of the time it was adultery cases, and most of the time were easy to solve.

It was easy money, but it was also a challenge. The name Saihara threw weight around, but it also threw grudges. It made Shuichi wonder if Danganronpa held such a grudge. He honestly couldn’t see why. He was the only one working on the Usual 16 and wasn’t getting anywhere at the time.

He opened the door and blinked at the disarray of the office. Ando-kohai was standing by the door with a steaming cup in his hands. His tie was loose around his neck and he looked flushed and overheated. The A/C was humming loudly in the background and there were plenty of papers and files that were scattered on the floor, covering the dark brown wood like an area rug and taped onto the white walls. No strings yet, which was a good thing. If the strings came out, Shuichi would have to worry if the old method of fanning things out and using the computer for visual aid wasn’t doing enough.

Ando looked and Shuichi could count new wrinkles that lined his normally youthful expression. There was also a line of grey that was starting to streak through his hair prematurely. There was a twitch to his fingers and Shuichi had a feeling that Ando was going to wind up in the hospital from a heart attack or worse. “Hey Shuichi-kun, shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Ah um...I wanted to talk to my uncle for a bit but uh…” Shuichi glanced to see that his uncle was currently sitting in the middle of this mess. Both office desks were shoved up against the wall and the chairs were stacked precariously against each other. Shuichi had no doubt that it would take one firm slam of the door for both chairs to crash down. The window blinds were open and the sun glared off of the white paper like snow.

His uncle, meanwhile, was staring at the mess as though it was a large jigsaw puzzle that needed to be put together. Shuichi wasn’t sure on how to begin a pathway to his uncle. There was literally no room to step, let alone disturb the papers. Deciding on a different method, Shuichi reached down and tugged off his shoes so that they wouldn’t get marks on the paper, and carefully made his way towards his uncle, trying to mindfully step where he thought he could.

“Please make a walkway.” Shuichi pleaded when he finally got to his uncle’s side.

“Shhh.” Koji murmured softly. “I think I almost understand this. Maybe.”

Shuichi looked down and tried to make heads or tails of what he was seeing that would cause an explosion of paper. From what he was seeing, it was all the suspect lists that Shuichi had made for the Usual 16, and all of the papers that they were in. He caught sight of the bird sanctuary that Kokai had founded and was a part of, as well as Chatani’s award for her manga that she penned.

“He’s been at this for hours now, and he said that fifteen minutes ago.” Ando said helpfully from the door. “I got placed over here for being a distraction.”

“You are!” Koji gave Ando a look. “Your theory makes no more sense than pigs flying.”

“What theory?” Shuichi asked, his finger curling against his chin.

“My theory was that these kids all were part of something huge. You know, like the awards and making records, being on Broadway, the works.” Ando explained and Shuichi could follow along that logic. “But with Aki-chan not having that type of exposure, I thought that maybe it was a grudge.”

“But why would Danganronpa have a grudge against you?” Shuichi’s mind was already spinning. Could that really be the case? If so then...was Akamatsu the performer that collapsed the same day of the Smash Tournament? Then where did Aki go that day? Busking? Did someone scout her just by watching her on the street?

The air went still and Koji’s head whipped around to face him. Shuichi felt a little shocked at the expression that shadowed over Koji’s face. He had never seen him so angry before. No, this wasn’t anger. There was a lot more behind the heat. However, Shuichi couldn’t focus on that, already tugging on his hat to try to avoid the confrontation that was going to happen anyway.

“I know that you got an email from them.” Koji said slowly, carefully. “But what made you connect these 16 kids to that?”

Shuichi took a breath. “I uh...I saved the link.”

“Oh kid, no.” Ando whispered from his spot.

Koji closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “What did you see?”

“The 16 that you’re trying to find. All of that that I gave you? Or sent to you? They’re all in a game called Danganronpa. It’s...it’s a killing game.” Shuichi adjusted his hat, trying to keep his gaze low. “Kokichi-kun and I...we watch it. Aki-chan is in it. She lost her memory. She’s going by Mayumi-chan.” Taking the opening for what it was, Shuichi carefully removed the bag from his shoulders. “Aki-chan knew that she was being followed. She left behind this and a charm bracelet. I have pictures of the crime scene.”

“Why didn’t the police grab it?” Ando mused. “If it was left out in the open like that, someone would have had to report it.”

“Aki-chan shoved her backpack behind the dumpster, unless someone was actively looking for it they wouldn’t have found it. Her charm bracelet was broken.” Shuichi swallowed. “She...either didn’t tell Danganronpa her name and they’re going with the flow of it, or they know exactly who she is, and they’re still going with the flow because she’s not opening her mouth to say who she is. Regardless, Danganronpa relies on the students to lose their memory so that it can be manipulated somehow. As far as I’m aware, Aki-chan -no- Mayumi-chan, has literally nothing to her name.”

“No memory,” Koji mused thoughtfully. “Manipulated into something that they want instead.” He covered his mouth with his hand, looking at the files. “But why these kids?”

“There’s a gimmick that they use called “Ultimates”. Whatever they’re talented for, or known for, that’s what they’re going to use.” Shuichi felt his heart race against his chest, and he felt dizzy. He should’ve eaten more, or he should’ve just called it a day and stayed in bed. He still could… “They force these kids to kill each other. There’s...there’s already been a couple of deaths.”

“Oh fuck.” Ando hissed and Koji bowed his head. “Saihara-kun, who were the two deaths?”

“Chatani-san and Yadori-san. They’re known as the Ultimate Mangaka and Figure Skater.” Shuichi said and Koji immediately started shuffling papers around.

“What was their motive?” Koji asked.

“Um...it was supposed to be a way to get their memory back but it escalated into Yadori-san thinking that she had to protect her classmates from Chatani. I think Chatani was just trying to keep herself armed and ready for an attack on her.” Shuichi explained. “I...don’t know much after that. They stopped recording after showing the execution.”

“......I feel like that only leads to more questions.” Koji sighed, running a hand across his face. “Sixteen…” He mused thoughtfully as he looked at the papers before him. Shuichi could swear he could see gears turning around his head. “And they picked Aki. Why? If anyone made papers, it would’ve been you, Shuichi-kun.”

“It goes with my theory though doesn’t it?” Ando pointed out helpfully, “Aki-chan was the bait.”

Koji seemed to be deep in thought for a moment before a lightbulb went off in his head. “I wonder if it had something to do with the Kamukura technology custody battle that happened a year ago.”

Ando made a soft noise, “Keiko-chan certainly tore them down didn’t she?”

“I’m wondering now if Jabberwock had an inkling this was happening, and that’s why they suddenly started clamoring for their technology back. It was meant to be used in a virtual therapy world so that people could recover from trauma.” Koji mused. “I wonder if that technology and Danganronpa have something in common, but I’m not sure. It wasn’t on a lease or anything...so perhaps it was stolen and recently resurfaced? I’ll have to see what the details are from her.”

The back and forth of the conversation left Shuichi feeling as though he didn’t have all the cards in his hands. Jabberwock? Kamukura technology? Just what did those two things have to do with Danganronpa? He didn’t remember his aunt taking on a case like that, but then again...Shuichi didn’t usually pay attention to his aunt’s cases. It was less about puzzle solving, and more about having the better argument. “Unless Jabberwock gave that technology over fifty years ago I doubt it.” Shuichi frowned, he wasn’t sure anymore what sort of wavelength was trying to get on. “This is their fifty-second season of doing this.”

“That can’t be right can it? Fifty years?” Ando spluttered. “That’s before the-”

“We’re looking at fifteen years max.” Koji cut through. “But I honestly doubt that Jabberwock would leave their technology behind like that. I think that there’s something more that’s happening. Five years is my max. I’m willing to gamble that it’s been closer to three.”

“Keiko-chan should know when the technology was brought over…” Ando mused. “That should give us a relative timeline, right?”

“If I can get her to fork over the papers, we might get somewhere. But then if that’s the case, then...why didn’t they pick Keiko-chan or myself?”

“You’re not a kid.” Ando waved it off. “Sounds like to me this Danganronpa group has a niche. I mean who's going to be horrified at an adult doing a murder spree? A teenager forced to kill another kid sounds much more terrifying.”

Shuichi thought about Chatani’s slit throat and how Yadori tried to make it as painless as she possibly could. He thought about the blood water. His stomach twisted and looked away, feeling nauseous and ill. Kids killing kids would make for a more entertaining show, wouldn’t it? Adults killed each other all the time, doing the littlest, reckless thing. “They want to make a statement.” Shuichi said, “Either that or they’re testing something, but I just don’t know what either of those could be.”

“You shouldn’t be watching.” Ando paused. “Um...that actually makes me want to ask...why did the invitation get sent to you, Saihara-kun? Instead of Saihara-senpai?”

“I feel as though that was a deliberate choice.” Koji mused. “Make the adults fret and wonder and perhaps they thought we wouldn’t believe Shuichi-kun or Ouma-kun for coming forward about it.”

“I also think it has something to do with my other theory.” Shuichi tugged his hat. “...What are you doing with the evidence, Uncle?”

“When I think I have something, I send it to my colleagues that are in the police force who have a criminal detective on board, why do you ask?”

“I think you might want to change tactics. Danganronpa has a hand in the police force. Why else can sixteen kids go missing without so much of a warning? Especially when they made local papers?” Shuichi pointed out.

The silence was deafening and Shuichi let out a low breath. Koji let out a low breath. “I hate calling in favors.”

Shuichi felt lost, but Ando looked over at the phone. “She’s gonna yell at you, or she’s gonna tell you told you so.”

“Her and Keiko-chan are going to say something.” Koji sighed. “Shuichi-kun...you should go to school. I...have to think.”

Understanding that his presence wasn’t needed anymore, Shuichi nodded. “I’ll see you soon Uncle.” He promised before running out of the building.

A bento was gently set before Shuichi and he looked up to see Takahashi was sitting across from him. Shuichi dealt with the anxiety of being at school late. Thankfully his teacher was understanding that he was trying to recover from a missing person’s case and decided to let him off the hook, but Shuichi wasn’ relying on that to happen every time.

Takahashi didn’t say anything as he opened his own bento. Shuichi knew that he shouldn’t feel surprised. Takahashi occasionally brought an extra lunch. Whether he had a knack of intuition that told him if Shuichi forgot his, or if it was just because he was waiting to share it with someone that needed the food, Shuichi never had the heart to ask. He knew that there was no way to refuse it too. The last time he tried didn’t end well, and he knew that Takahashi never meant any insult.

“Thanks.” Shuichi doubted that the bento would taste like anything. He barely could remember breakfast and school was dragging along at snail's pace and his energy levels were about in the negatives. Too many people staring, too many questions buzzing, everything just felt like it was too much and too loud. He pulled the bento apart and he was greeted with an array of colorful food and rice. “Thank you for the meal.”

“It’s really nothing.” Takahashi responded as he took his apart as well, showing the same arrangement. “Did something happen last night?”

Shuichi blinked, “Why specifically last night?”

“You were with us the other night and you seemed okay...I mean...as okay as you can be.” Takahashi clarified. “Last night...something must’ve happened. Ouma-kun made us worried with his messages in the D.I.C.E text group. He just said to be kind to you is all.”

“O-oh.” Shuichi looked away. “It’s nothing.”

“I won’t pry, this isn’t pancake night.” Takahashi promised. “Just...I’m here if you ever want to talk.”

God how to explain the craziness that was his life? Shuichi gently nudged his chopsticks against a sausage roll and watched it shift back and forth in place as he tried to gather his thoughts. His stomach grumbled, irritated that he was barely eating anything. Yet when he placed the food in his mouth, he barely could taste the flavor. His stomach whimpered, as though begging to change his mind, but Shuichi knew he needed to eat...even if he didn’t feel like it was a good idea.

He couldn’t talk about the case, that was confidential and he wasn’t sure how much he should be able to share. Now that he...thought about it...Shuichi looked over at Takahashi who was calmly eating, not breaking the silence between them for any superficial reasons. “Takahashi-kun?”

“Hm?”

“Who...was Aki-chan to you?”

“Did Ouma-kun put you up to that question?” Takahashi teased as Shuichi raised his hands up defensively. “I’m kidding. He’s been bugging me about that too. I mostly ignore him, he blows up my phone and then probably comes crying to you about it.”

That must’ve been half of the time Kokichi only vaguely said that D.I.C.E was bullying him. Shuichi shook his head. “I was just...trying to figure something out.”

“She’s a good friend.” Takahashi said simply, “and like I told her...I’m not really looking for a relationship.”

“You told her that?”

“She confessed not too long before this happened,” Takahashi pursed his lips together. “I didn’t say anything to anyone about it because I didn’t want to look as though I had something to do with it. Before I realized it was a kidnapping, I legitimately thought she took my words to heart and decided to do what she wanted to do for graduation.”

“To...what?” Shuichi blinked.

“To see Japan for what it was worth without anyone to hold her back. Not that she thought you or her family were hindrances. I think she just….wanted to be someone that could be free for a little while. Not worry about the Saihara name...and all that comes with it.” Takahashi shrugged. “You know, just a couple of days ago, Ouma-kun asked me what I’d do if I found out Saihara-san lost her memory.”

“Ouma-kun doesn’t hold back his questions, does he?” That was...a little harsh.

“I didn’t mind it. He knew that I already lost someone to memory loss once, so…” Takahashi nonchalantly took another bite of his food. “I suppose this time I came prepared. I mean, Saihara-san is still a treasured friend. She’s been good to us, good to Ouma-kun. You both have been. To abandon her when she can’t remember us is...well...expected if we don’t adjust. My grammy lost her memory. It was...rough. My parents thought she was selfish for forgetting them, for forgetting me, but...at the end of the day I think maybe I was the selfish one instead.”

Shuichi could only tilt his head in confusion, waiting.

“I stopped thinking of her as grammy and started to learn about her as Mei.” Takahashi replied. “I learned that her favorite color was purple, and she liked having the blinds up because the sunlight hit just right and made her room look bright and cheerful. She liked porcelain tea sets more than cast iron because it’s prettier and more welcoming. Cast iron was more for businesses and for formal tea ceremonies.” He looked up at Shuichi, chopsticks hanging slightly from his fingers. “My grammy hated having the blinds up, she thought that’s where all the dust came from and didn’t help matters. Grammy was also very strict. She was the type that was always after me for my grades. She was kind of disappointed that I decided on this high school when I took my entrance exams.”

He wasn’t lying about anything that he was saying, but he also wasn’t in any sort of distress talking about it. It was though he was talking about the weather. Shuichi wondered if that meant he was good at hiding that his question bothered him, or if it meant that this was...something that happened a long time ago and was easy to talk about now.

“So in short, I would start from square one and build back up again. Maybe that means we’re friends. Maybe we’ll want nothing to do with each other. Maybe the pain will be too much for me this time, and I’ll have to say goodbye. Maybe she will.” Takahashi shrugged, going back to eating. “There’s really no telling how that’d go until it actually happens. But it’ll be harder for you, because of all the little things you two would have between each other. The inside jokes, what annoys her, the small things you guys used to do for fun. It all can be so drastically different and you’ll hate it. You’ll get frustrated. She’ll get frustrated. She’ll get upset. Just...start from square one. All of you started like that at one point in your life.”

“You make it sound easy.” Shuichi was a little...in awe of him. “When...did all of this happen?”

“Two years ago. It’ll be the third year come Christmas.” Takahashi replied simply. “It sucks my present was a dead grammy and a friend but...well...both Mei and grammy liked Christmas so...they had something in common at least. It wasn’t easy. Believe me, it sounds easy but it’s really hard. You want to compare and contrast. You want to dig and try to find just a little something that means she’s not completely gone or completely disappeared.” He looked at Shuichi. “Don’t. It’s not worth the torment. Again easier said than done, but...you’d thank yourself for it later.”

“Right...I am sorry for your loss.” Shuichi murmured.

“I’m not.” Takahashi smiled lightly. “Who ever said death was the ending to life anyway? It doesn’t make sense when you think about it.”

Shuichi wasn’t sure if he could share that sentiment, but he was grateful for the optimism all at the same time. He just wished that he could follow that advice, come whatever ending was to come.

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10moonymhrivertam · 3 years

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Buffy/Witcher fic fragment

“Julian, duck!” The voice is a little shrill and definitely frantic. Jaskier’s still reeling from the portal, but something about the words has his hand shooting out to drag Geralt down with him. Something flies over their heads, and he looks up to see a headless body crumbling into dust. Which he hasn’t seen anything do in a very, very long time. He tenses at running footsteps, and he has a dagger in hand based sheerly on how frayed his nerves are. The girl standing over them is in jeans and a t-shirt, and he hasn’t seen the combination in decades.

“It is you! Everyone’s going to flip. It’s been years, I’m pretty sure they thought you were dead, especially since nobody really did magic yet when you went missing.” The girl has a hand out, and Jaskier stares at it, his brain buffering. Eventually, he realizes why. He’d gotten a spell to help him learn the most common language on the Continent when he’d arrived there, and now his brain is scrambling to parse English for the first time in twenty years.

“Who the hell are you?” He asks, the words wrapping strangely around his tongue. The girl frowns, her face scrunching into an expression that rings a bell deep in his memory. He’d had a friend that made a face like that...

“Right. The spell. You were gone.” Her hand still hangs in the air between them. “I’m Dawn Summers. I can take you to Giles, if you want.”

Jaskier eyes her for another moment before accepting the hand and then turning to help Geralt up. He doesn’t refuse the help, but there’s something tight in his face that says he doesn’t trust conversations he didn’t understand being had over his head.

“She knows someone that might know something,” he says to Geralt. Geralt grunts, his eyes darting from grave to grave. Jaskier suppresses a sigh and turns back to Dawn.

“Lead the way, Miss Summers.” Her face does something strange, but without a word, she turns on her heel and heads for the gate of the cemetery with unerring accuracy. Geralt’s stony silence felt significant, but every time Jaskier thought of something to say, all he could think was how Geralt was going to tear him apart for this pile of shit later when Jaskier wasn’t the only translator around. Another voice speaking English stopped his anxiety from ratcheting higher.

“Dawn, all I want to know is how I didn’t see you go.”

“I literally just waited until you stopped asking me questions while you were reading. But look, I survived!” Her voice is as bright as the sun. “Also, I found something!”

“You found something?” It wouldn’t have been easy to miss the skepticism in his voice even if Jaskier didn’t already know him. Dawn looks back, drawing Giles’s eye. Jaskier waves awkwardly, suddenly aware of just how much distance time has put between them.

“Julian?”

“Giles. It’s been...a while, for me.”

“It hardly looks like it.” Jaskier recognizes the look from seeing one like it on Geralt’s face more than he remembers it on Giles’s.

“I think that first portal did something to the way I age. Do you want to not-invite us back somewhere?” Which clears up a little bit of the look on Giles’s face, at least.

“I suppose there is an anniversary pizza party which can use a few more guests.”

“Oh, yeah!” Dawn grinned. “You haven’t met Tara yet! Oh, and, um - who are you? Sorry.” Jaskier looked back at Geralt - for a split second, he was waiting for Geralt to answer, then remembered.

“Geralt, this is Dawn and Giles. Giles, Dawn; Geralt. Language barrier.” Geralt had figured that much out already, so he didn’t feel the need to repeat himself.

“Sounded Polish.” Giles said a string of something which almost sounded like a greeting, but made Jaskier make a face. The easiest explanation was just that his accent was incomprehensible, but - then he remembered that they’d hopped from the thirteenth century to the twentieth.

“I’ll look into it,” Jaskier said in very firm English. Giles winced, and Jaskier felt bad for a moment. They quickly got on their way, and silence reigned. Jaskier hated the thick tension in the air, so with a mental fuck-it, he started speaking.

“Say something,” he pleaded with Geralt. “Anything. Three words or less?” The prompt usually worked when all else failed, but then - that had been before that awful dragon hunt half a year ago.

“Apologies are difficult.” The words came slowly, and Geralt looked pained. Jaskier didn’t bother hiding his surprise. Geralt eyed him for a moment before dropping his eyes to the sidewalk. “Harder now that I’m confused. And you’re the only one that knows what’s going on.”

Jaskier bit his lip, processing that. Geralt wanted to apologize, before they were portalled into Sunnydale. That was...a lot.

“This is...” Jaskier trailed off. “It’s where I’m from.” He looked away from Geralt. “A few years before we met, a portal took me from here and dropped me on the Continent. There was a mage that was so frustrated with my charades that she just slapped a translation spell on me. I’m just lucky the mechanics of it mean I can be a great bard. I can still tell the languages are separate, they still feel different, but I just - understand them.” He tapped his temple.

“This is where you’re from?” Geralt repeated. Jaskier looked over to see his eyes roaming from the sidewalk to the road to the power lines.

“It’s got monsters, too, but no witchers. Got something else, though. Oh, and it’s the twentieth century. Twenty-first, maybe, depending how long I was gone. It was the 90’s.”

“You know them?”

“The man. The girl said something about a spell, but...I don’t know what she means. Hold on. Miss Summers, what was that you said before about a spell?”

“Oh, yes, you were gone.” Hearing Giles say the same thing was a point in her favor. “It’s...rather complicated. There was memory alteration involved.”

“So I forgot you?” Jaskier couldn’t help but be a little upset by the idea.

“Wrong way around,” Dawn said, looking a bit uncomfortable. “We probably should wait until we get back, and then everyone else can tell you the way they remember things. It might be kind of neat to see how you tell things.”

“Alright, then.” Jaskier flashed them a disarming smile before turning his attention back to Geralt and shrugging. Geralt hummed and fell quiet again. Jaskier did the same despite himself, at least until the girl drifted back towards them.

[disappearance somewhere mid-s3; this is set in an ambiguous post-s5 everyone-is-happy-fuck-you]

“Is that a guitar?”

“A lute. Learning it was a little different. The tuning’s a bitch.” Giles shot him a look over his shoulder, and Jaskier rolled his eyes. “This is a special one. I got it from the king of the elves.”

Dawn’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, Bilbo.”

“Hey, no, they’re real on the Continent!” Jasker protested. He outlined what history he’d learned at Oxenfurt for her, and by the time he was coming to the end of his impromptu lecture, they were outside a house he recognized, just barely. Giles was first through the door, tossing out a greeting to get a chorus of voices in return. Dawn followed. Jaskier hesitated just one moment. His high school friends seemed to be in there. He hadn’t seen them in going on thirty years. Nonetheless, if he didn’t go, Giles wouldn’t trust him, and he didn’t have any chance of either settling in here or finding his way home. So he forged ahead, hanging onto Geralt’s sleeve. He crossed the threshold without a lick of trouble, and Geralt shadowed him silently.

“Who’s that?” That was Joyce’s voice, he thought.

“We found them in the cemetery!” Dawn said, far too cheerfully. “But we didn’t invite them in,” she added quickly. “You heard!”

“We heard.” That was another familiar one. A few moments later, one of his old friends was in the doorway. “...Julian?”

There was a chorus of ‘what’s, and suddenly it seemed like the entirety of whatever party they were having was in the doorway. Before he’d quite processed it all, Xander had drawn him into a hell of a hug.

“Lute!” He protested, squirming out of the hug. He took off his case and floundered for a place to set it. Geralt gently removed it from his hands and nodded back to the others. Jaskier flashed him a quick, warm smile, then turned his attention back to distributing hugs.

“It’s been a while,” he offered when they’d had their fill.

“How are you not dead?” Xander asked, earning an elbow in the side from Willow. He winced and pouted at her.

“There was a portal. Which did do something strange to my aging, I’ll admit.”

“You barely look older than me,” Dawn observed, which didn’t help Jaskier as much as it ought to.

“Well, that’s flattering.”

“Why, how old are you?” Buffy asked.

“Coming up on forty-three.” Geralt tensed at the various ‘bullshit’s that rose up. Jaskier flashed him a smile to reassure him. “I’d offer to prove it, but all I have is Geralt’s word, and he never even argued with Yennefer about those crow’s feet jokes, so I don’t know if he noticed.”

“Oh, what are we all standing around the hall for?” Joyce tittered. “Come on, come sit. There’s pizza; soda; some wine.”

“Ooh, they’ve got wine, Geralt!” Geralt hummed. Still holding Jaskier’s lute with something like reverence, he followed Jaskier. At least until Jaskier stopped dead in the door, his eyes narrowing at the man with bleach-blond hair in the middle of what sounded like a pop culture argument with a woman who hadn’t come to greet him.

“You have more to catch me up on, right now,” he said lowly. Spike looked over and his eyebrows shot up.

“Pretty boy. Thought you were dead. Nice going on the still being here.” Spike made a vague gesture of congratulations and then turned back to his partner, but she was squinting at Jaskier like she knew him.

“There was a thing,” Dawn answered, dropping onto the couch. “An organizationy thing. Now he basically has a taser in his brain so he can’t eat people. He doesn’t have a soul but he’s still okay.”

“Watch yourself, little bit.” Spike waved a threatening finger at her, and Jaskier nearly leapt forward with his dagger, clear invitation be damned. A hand landed on his shoulder. He tensed and nearly whipped around.

“Jaskier,” Geralt rumbled in his ear. “What’s going on?”

“When I left, that bastard was out to kill us.”

“And now?”

Jaskier huffed angrily through his nose. “He’s been invited to the party.”

“Treat him like he’s Valdo Marx, then.”

“Not fucking well helpful, Geralt, someday I’ll murder that little shit, I really will.”

“You’re Jaskier and Geralt of Rivia!” The accusation was sudden, giddy, and in the language Jaskier was used to hearing. He and Geralt turned as one to look at Spike’s conversation partner. Jaskier distantly noticed he was staring at her, too, though in a more ‘what the fuck’ way.

“And who would you be, madam?” The flirty, pleased smile touched easily on Jaskier’s face. Xander’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, when I went there, I usually went as Anyanka.”

“Anyanka...that’s familiar.”

“It had better be. I had at least three separate summons that stopped me and Hallie having days out because of you.”

“Summons?” Most of Jaskier’s excitement had dropped away.

“I was a demon zemsty.”

“Shit.” Jaskier could feel himself go pale. He could feel Geralt at his back, but couldn’t tell if he was angry or smug or indifferent.

“But I’m not stupid. Witchers are almost as infamous as Slayers, and you’re the White Wolf’s bard.”

“Slayers?” Geralt asked.

“It’s what I told you we have instead of Witchers. Except there’s only one, and she’s always a girl.”

“Seems like a lot of responsibility for one person,” he remarked.

“Which is why Buffy has everyone.” Jaskier made a gesture encompassing the room. “And hasn’t died yet. No, wait, Kendra was Called. Well, she’s never died properly.”

#i'm sorry it ends so abruptly i tried to add to it just now but nothing was working out T_T #i just had a lot of fun reading this when i found it again in my google docs so i wanted to share #writing #fic #the witcher fanfic #ambiguous timeline #canon divergence #there was a struck through scene explaining that Anya just has the ability to hop Spheres as a vengaence demon #but the timing was kind of a gamble #except that Hallie had a knack for finding concerts where Her Sweet Kiss was played XD #Anya and Jaskier only barely missed going to high school together i think #and i feel like it's weird that he doesn't ask after oz but i remember looking at episode guides to decide on the timeline #so oz must've already been gone #buffy fanfic #anyway yeah i wrote this mostly for me but i hope you find it fun #i kinda want to continue it but not enough to figure out where i wrote myself into a corner #altho i do wanna do the comparison of jaskier having memories of canon 1-3 against everyone's dawn-edited 1-3 #also anya like. you must have a translation spell either you or tara can do just. do it so geralt doesn't have to keep suffering #;kljfakldjflka just realized there is a distinct possibility in this verse that Yenn could've summoned her after finding out about the wish #then again yenn probably wants to be self-suficient and claling a vengaence demon wouldnt' count

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