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villainscomplex · 3 years ago

Text

this, at least.

hey so anyway yall know how there was that big boom of angsty ship fics right

,,,,,i wanted to write one too and I have no other excuse

!!! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH !!!

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In his dreams, Asahi dies slowly.

His body is a mass of static and there is nothing but pain and pain and more pain. He’s vaguely aware of someone, somewhere, calling his name. Asahi, they’re saying, Asahi, please wake up.

And he does.

Asahi jerks awake violently, legs tangled in his blankets and hair plastered to the back of his neck, cold with sweat. He still feels like there’s — what? He doesn’t know the source of the pain, only that it is sheer pain, radiating through the core of his very being. It’d be easy to think it’s something simple, a bullet wound or head trauma, but the way it nestles into his chest and takes root there begs to differ.

In his dreams — nightmares, they prefer — Asahi is made of fear and desperation, of please, no, and the unnerving feeling that he’s forgetting something. There’s always someone with him, always whispering his name, fingers cold on his face.

It’s always the same scene.

He steps into a doorway and panic swells in his chest, but he’s never sure what triggers it. There’s nothing in the room but darkness, and then his feet come out from under him, and he is falling. The ground is far, and he falls forever and ever, until time stops short. He crashes into it in one graceless dive, shatters apart, and reforms at the seams with the sweet familiarity of agony.

He’s sure, with every fiber of his being, that something is missing. He doesn’t know what, or who, only that it is missing and the absence feels like a hole in his chest, a hollow place where the pain doesn’t reach.

Asahi leans forward in his bed, struggling to catch his breath. His hair falls like a curtain around his face. He can’t remember why he keeps it long, only that the idea of cutting it feels wrong, and so he lets it grow.

Suddenly, his bed feels unappealing and cold, and he staggers out of it into the quiet of his apartment.

If his life was a story, the narrator would say something like this — Azumane Asahi is a twenty-six year old man with severe amnesia and a wedding ring on a necklace, to which he doesn’t know the location of the missing pair. And that’s it, they’d say, just a detective with no memory and a lot of anxiety. He doesn’t think he’s important enough of a character to warrant any sort of life story.

His phone is where he left it when he’d arrived home the night prior, tossed onto his side table in a fit of weariness. The screen blinks dimly back at him, still miraculously alive, but only with about six percent to spare and at least three new messages to speak of. They’re all from one of the few people he actually texts, and even without looking at the contact name, Suga’s typing style is distinctive from Daichi or Shimizu’s.

He checks the time in the corner of his screen. It’s nearly five-thirty in the morning, which isn’t a bad time, but it’s still earlier than he normally gets up. Going back to sleep is about the most unappealing thing he can think of right now, so even if he isn’t a morning person, he plugs his phone up, clicks on the shabby TV, and goes to make a pot of coffee, listening to the steady drone of the early weather report.

The ring around his neck is a cold weight against his bare skin, small and heavy against the hollow where his throat meets his clavicle. It rolls and clinks softly against its chain as he moves, a quiet, ever-present reminder of a past he doesn’t remember.

It’s easy to make assumptions. He doesn’t know who has the pair to this ring, only that it feels too important to get rid of, so he keeps it around his neck. For all he knows, he was married once. Someone else had — maybe still has — the pair to this ring. He doesn’t remember being married or who his partner is, but he’s sure they must exist.

Maybe they’d left because he’d forgotten.

Asahi tucks the assumption away before his anxiety can take it and run. He’s got a life now and he can’t go ruining what he has by overthinking whatever he used to have. Lacking the vast majority of his memories hadn’t stopped him from rebuilding his life these past few months, bit by bit.

It’s only been a few months since the accident and even though he doesn’t remember it personally, that’s all everyone keeps referring to it as. The accident, like he’d gone and suffered a massive memory loss by total coincidence.

Asahi kind of hates it. He tries not to think too hard about it.

In hindsight, it hadn’t been an easy recovery. He supposes nobody ever really thinks about what would happen if they lost a chunk of their adult memories and nobody would tell them why. He’d had friends to support him through it, even if he had taken a while to remember the three of them, and because of their support he’d been able to get back on his feet.

He’s still a rookie at this detective work, but sitting down and poring over the facts and figures of the cases he’s investigating is oddly comforting.

Light peeks out from over the horizon as the morning settles in, blanketing the world outside and the living room within in a sheet of pale light. Asahi’s eyes ache from his lack of sleep. The bags beneath them have gotten worse, and he’s sure he’ll inevitably get scolded about them when he sees his friends again.

By the time Asahi arrives at his workplace, the city around him has come to life. It’s never quiet here by any means, but once the sun is up, it seems everyone takes to the streets at once. He leaves early to avoid the rush, but always inevitably catches the start of it and makes it just in time, stumbling into the doorway of the detective agency’s office.

“Hey, Azumane,” the receptionist greets with an easy smile, leaning over the desk to be seen, “just in time. Still relearning the trains?” Asahi isn’t too familiar with Narita, but the man is calm and rarely bothered by high stress situations, and he appreciates the cool head and easy attitude first thing in the morning. He’d been one of the first to make sure Asahi had felt welcomed here, and Asahi is eternally grateful for it.

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck, averting his eyes, “it’s a lot to get used to all over again. I keep hoping I’ll just jog my memory somehow and miraculously remember.”

Narita laughs. “I’m sure it’s somewhere in that head of yours.”

Asahi doesn’t stick around to chat much longer, heading up to the main office. There’s only two others inside, both at their desks doing very different things. Akaashi, ever studious, is hunched over a case file from a recent completion of his, scribbling away. Kozume, on the other hand, their resident cyber specialist, reclines back in his chair, tapping away at his phone and looking like he’s half asleep. “Azumane,” Kozume yawns, “there’s some files on your desk.” There are in fact — Asahi turns to confirm — files on his desk.

There’s also a boy there.

His back is to Asahi, but he can see the slicked black hair, wild and dark, sharp against the evident paleness of the boy’s skin. The boy visibly straightens when Asahi turns to look, whipping around in his chair.

Okay, no, a man. A grown man.

Asahi feels a little like deer in headlights, caught in the sharp stare of the man’s golden eyes, interrupted only by the equal shock of bleached blond hair in the forefront of his bangs. Asahi feels pinned in place by that unblinking stare, and it takes him a moment to remember to move.

He circles to his desk a little hesitantly, starkly aware of the other man’s stare following him the entire way around. It’s still on him when Asahi seats himself on the opposite side of the desk, and Asahi steels himself to meet it, smiling nervously.

“Hello,” he greets, “I’m Azumane. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting any clients today.” “I’m Noya!” The man declares, gives no further context, and slaps a file down in front of Asahi. “I need you to look into this.”

The words CASE CLOSED stands out in stark red lettering on the front. Asahi resists the urge to frown. It isn’t uncommon for them to receive requests to look into closed cases, but generally speaking, they’re a waste of money and time.

“Listen,” he starts hesitantly, “honestly, I’m still very new at this. Could I recommend you to one of our more experienced investigators?”

Noya shakes his head adamantly, looking appalled at the mere suggestion. “No!” He says, loud enough that Asahi flinches. “This is important to me! You have to do it!”

“I-”

Noya stares at him, lips turned down, eyes wide in a silent plea. Asahi takes the file.

There’s no photo inside, but it's very clearly labeled as involuntary manslaughter. The victim had only been twenty-five, but the details are absolutely minimal. There really won’t be a lot he can do with this, even if he does accept it. He’s sure the case is closed for a reason.

“Look,” he starts, raising his eyes.

Noya is gone.

Asahi leaps out of his seat, file in hand. Noya had just been there. He’s not surprised the man is fast, but Asahi hadn’t even accepted the case yet, and Noya hadn’t even stuck around to answer questions. Asahi races out of the office and into the entry lobby, head swinging from side to side in search of the shorter man.

“Narita,” he asks, leaning over the side of the receptionist’s counter, “did you see where that man went?”

Narita frowns at him. “What man? I haven’t seen anyone pass by.”

“I-” Asahi sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair hard enough to yank it out of his half bun and just resigns himself, tucking the file under his arm. “Nevermind. Thanks anyway.” Narita gives him another odd look as he turns away, returning to the main office. When he enters, Akaashi and Kozume both glance up strangely, matching the look Narita had previously given him, but Kozume loses interest much quicker than he’s gained it, as if this is a perfectly normal, everyday incident. Akaashi’s gaze tracks him all the way back to his desk, and only then does it fall away, leaving Asahi to his own devices. For a long time, Asahi just stares at the file. Case closed stares back at him, bold and red and final.

It isn’t to say that it’s quite uncommon for them to get a closed case to investigate. Generally speaking, it’s recommended to avoid closed cases. More often than not, they lead to dead ends and more broken hearts than when they began. The police may not investigate as much as private detectives, but they weren’t always wrong by any means. But Noya hadn’t given him too much of a choice in the matter, so against his better judgment, Asahi opens the file.

It’s almost pathetically small, three pages at most. There’s no photos, but from what Asahi can gather, it’s a twenty-five year old man who fell victim to an armed robbery incident, whose death was ultimately ruled involuntary manslaughter as a result. The culprit had never been caught, but the man’s partner had suffered some sort of collateral damage. There’s no further information on any of the three; the partner is unnamed and there are no photos of the man or the partner.

There’s nothing here that points to the case being anything other than what the file says, much less any sort of connection. He considers, briefly, that maybe Noya is the partner and wants the man brought to justice, but he doesn’t have any confirmation to this theory. It just seems like a home robbery turned homicide.

It’s essentially a dead end. There’s no address to begin the investigation and no family on the file to contact in regards. If Noya is the partner, Asahi could start there, but if he’d suffered some sort of trauma related to the incident, then Asahi has to take his testimony with a grain of salt. And this is all based on assumption — he doesn’t even know the extent of Noya’s personal involvement with this entire situation.

Noya hadn’t left him any contact details.

The thought strikes him abruptly, and Asahi sighs. This isn’t going to go anywhere without Noya’s cooperation. Asahi hadn’t agreed to investigate it in the first place. Resigned, he closes the file again and slides it underneath a few others on his desk, where it’s quickly forgotten in the wake of the rest of his work.

When he leaves that evening, files tucked away in his bag, the sun hangs low over the horizon, lethargic orange rays reclined across the darkening sky. It’s as beautiful as it is ominous, and Asahi ducks his head to avoid wandering eyes as he hurries to the train station, long coat swishing behind him.

The temperature sinks as it grows late, and despite his scarf, Asahi’s face burns with chill by the time he gets to the stairs leading down into the train station. People swarm around him, talking and huddling, faces as red as his own and stark with the relief of getting somewhere decently warmer.

Close enough to the rails to actually get on the train, but not close enough to get trampled by those trying to get good seating, Asahi tucks his chin into his scarf and takes a steadying breath.

He wonders if he was always an anxious person like this; had too much noise always been overwhelming to him? Had he ever walked with his head up, unconcerned about the opinions of those around him? Was this ever present bundle of nerves set deep in the square of his chest just a side effect of a tragic accident that nobody will tell him about?

He slides his thumb over the crest of the wedding ring on his necklace, a motion that feels like nothing but pure instinct, and then nearly yanks it clean off his neck when a hand grips his elbow, hard, and he flinches.

Asahi looks down.

Staring back up at him indignantly, lips fixed into a frown and golden eyes wide, looking as if he’s entirely unbothered by the cold despite being in nothing but a t-shirt and basketball shorts, is Noya.

“Azumane-san!”

Asahi is unbelievably shaken right now. After all, the odds that Noya would show up at the same train station as him were slim, even for this side of the city, but here he is, grip hard on Asahi’s elbow. If Asahi had gears in his head, they’d be stalling right now, and the little embodiment of his consciousness would be trying to restart it to no avail.

When the wires finally reconnect, Asahi gasps. “Why don’t you have a jacket?”

The words come out more demanding than he intended, but it’s too late to apologize, so instead, Asahi strips off his overcoat, and then the coat beneath it. Goosebumps prickle over the nape of his neck where it’s exposed to the cold, and he hurriedly yanks the long coat back on, handing the other off to Noya. Noya, who has since let go, looks a little surprised as he accepts it.

“I’m fine!” Noya huffs, but he pulls the jacket on regardless.

The sleeves slip past his fingertips, effectively dwarfing him. Asahi thinks it would be rather comical if he wasn’t so upset at this precise moment, but even swallowed up by Asahi’s undercoat, Noya feels like a force to be reckoned with, a storm lying in wait.

Asahi can’t put his finger on it, but Noya’s brash personality seems familiar, somehow. Mentally, he goes through his limited list of friends. Sugawara fits the bill closest, but even his chaos is of a different sort.

The train whistle breaks him out of his thoughts. He spots the lights as it barrels down the tunnel.

“Have you solved the case yet?” Noya asks, gaze still fixed on Asahi, unwavering.

Asahi frowns at him. “Listen,” he begins, turning his gaze back to Noya.

His words die in his throat. Noya stares back at him, eyes glittering in the faint light of the underground station, wild hair stirred around his face by the gust of cold air the train brings with it. The doors hiss open, but Asahi doesn’t move to get on yet. People stream by them on their way on or off the platform.

He can’t say no. He doesn’t know what it is, but Asahi is suddenly resigned to seeing this through. Noya’s eyes are intense and focused, hard with determination and a type of fire that Asahi can’t remember ever seeing before. He can’t say no.

“I haven’t,” he says, “but I’m going to investigate it as best I can.”

Noya’s grin makes him think that perhaps this is the right decision after all.

The train whistles again. Asahi starts, whirling back around to the platform. Oh no, the train’s going to leave.

“Are you-” He begins, glancing back to Noya, intending to ask if he’s getting on the same train.

Noya is gone. Asahi stares incredulously at the spot where the man had been, dwarfed in Asahi’s coat. He turns, glancing a full circle around himself, trying to spot that shock of blond in the crowd, but no, Noya is gone.

Maybe he got on the train.

Asahi follows suit, tucking his overcoat a little tighter around him as the doors slide shut. The people on the platform all blur together in a mass of color as the train pulls away, but Asahi swears he catches the piercing stare of golden eyes. It’s gone before he can think too hard about it, and Asahi spends the train ride and subsequent walk home staring into space. He hadn’t gotten Noya’s contact info.

“I’m home,” he says to no one as he opens his door and steps in, taking his shoes off.

Maybe he should get a dog.

Sighing heavily, Asahi drops his bag onto the floor by the door, where it tips to the side and lets a few papers and files slide halfway out. He pays it little mind, figuring he can think about it later, and makes his way down the narrow corridor into the bedroom at the back.

It’s sheer muscle memory that gets him through his nightly routine, and by the time he lets his hair down and flops into bed, he’s too exhausted to think. The somber tendrils of heavy sleep drag him deep into the sheets.

He dreams. (He has nightmares.)

Wake up, wake up, wake up, the voice is saying. Asahi, please wake up. Please don’t leave me. Please, no. Please, no.

This time, when Asahi jerks awake, the sun is still low below the horizon and his phone reads 4:36 A.M, but there’s no chance of him going back to sleep so he dons a hoodie and decides to do something with himself. In the end, Asahi goes for a run. It’s been a while since he’s just gone out like this, so he takes the short route that loops through the backside of a local park. Asahi jogs what he can, but it quickly becomes clear that he isn’t nearly as in shape as he clearly had been once. He can tell he used to be muscular and healthy prior to the accident, but he’s hardly been focused on maintaining that post memory loss. Still, running feels natural, so he tries to keep it up.

He runs into Noya again. Asahi rounds the bend, huffs of breath forming white clouds in the chilly morning air. There’s only a handful of other souls up and about this early, and from what Asahi can tell, they’re all out running too. It’s a nice change of pace to get his mind off of everything, but it’s clear the universe has other plans. As he nears the park’s massive lake, he spots a figure sitting right at the bank of it, leaning precariously over the water.

Even from this distance and without his glasses, he recognizes Noya’s wild hair paired with the white t-shirt and black shorts combo. Noya’s back is to him, but he visibly straightens as the sound of Asahi’s footsteps approach, head twisting around to fix those ever startling eyes on the taller man. “Azumane,” his eyebrows pinch, “what are you doing here?” There’s this nagging feeling in his chest. It strikes him as odd again; something about Noya is so unnervingly familiar to him, but he can’t put his finger on it. He’s sure if they had known each other prior to his memory loss then someone as headstrong as Noya seems to be would have said something about it by now, but Noya doesn’t seem bothered like Asahi is. He shakes it off.

Something seems off. Noya is quieter, more pensive. His gaze has returned to the surface of the lake immediately after confirming that he knows the person approaching him. It’s a strange change from the loud, fierce boy Asahi has started to know him as. “Noya,” he greets softly, joining him carefully by the water. “I was out for a run. Are you okay? Aren’t you cold?” “Oh,” Noya seems to remember something, “I forgot your jacket. Sorry.” Asahi shakes his head. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known I was going to come running. It isn’t like I’ve done this in a while.” Noya is staring at him again, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He’s frowning — it’s only a faint, downward quirk of the lips, but it seems so out of place on Noya’s features that it catches Asahi off guard. A matching frown slips onto his face.

“Have you made any progress?” Noya asks suddenly, peering up at Asahi intently. “With the case, I mean.” “Noya, it’s only been a night,” Asahi reminds him gently. “I’ll look into it more later, but nothing’s changed from when you asked me yesterday.” “Yesterday?” Noya echoes, as if confused. “Oh… Right. When you gave me the jacket. Okay.” “Are you sure you’re okay?” Asahi persists. “I’m fine! Listen, I’ve gotta go, ‘kay? I’ll catch you again sometime soon.” Noya takes off before Asahi can so much as consider asking about contact information. At this rate, he’s going to be stuck only contacting Noya whenever they happen to run into each other in town. Belatedly, near the tail end of his run, he realizes that Noya must live nearby, to have been at the park.

So why had he been all the way across town yesterday? Asahi glances back, as if the answer will appear behind him. The cold wind replies, whispering through the bare branches of the trees. He just can’t shake the feeling that something is too familiar about Noya to forget. Maybe it’s just the man’s strange tendencies or the way he seems so desperate for the case to be solved as soon as possible, but Asahi just can’t get rid of this feeling. He doesn’t know what it is yet, only that it feels too important to completely dismiss a third time.

So this time, he tucks it away in the back of his mind for safekeeping.

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

“Oi, Azumane,” Kozume leans around his laptop, “what was that new file you got? An investigation?”

Asahi starts at the sound of his voice. After the two loudest members of their agency had gone off on lunch, the room had finally become quiet enough for Asahi to focus on his research. His desk is in clutters, public records scattered across the surface, laptop balanced precariously on the corner and held in place only by half of a large, opened book. Asahi is in the middle of rereading the case file when Kozume speaks up. He's so focused that, in his surprise, he nearly takes out his laptop himself. Kozume just lifts one disinterested brow, strands of dark hair slipping back into their usual place over his face. “Uh,” Asahi begins, eloquently, “something like that. Client wants me to look into a closed case. I think he’s probably got some pretty personal roots in it, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him it isn’t a good idea to reopen old wounds.” “You’re too nice, Azumane-san.” Akaashi remarks from his desk without looking up. “Sometimes, it’s best to put a stop to it before it can start.” “Then again,” Kozume muses, “I guess we are getting paid for this, huh?”

They lapse into a mutual silence again.

Asahi feels like there are still eyes on him, but Akaashi is still looking at the paperwork on his desk and Kozume has returned to his laptop screen. The rest of the employees aren’t here, and Narita is presumably still at the front desk. With a faint frown, Asahi shakes the feeling away and returns his attention to the files.

His information is severely limited. That’s the biggest issue. If there had been an address on the file he could have started his investigation there, but Noya would be the easier source. The only issue with that is that Asahi still hasn’t gotten Noya’s contact information to ask him about it. That being said, he’s not even sure if Noya actually knows anything or if this just happens to be a personal investment of his. Asahi isn’t in the habit of prying about people’s personal connections to a case. As long as he can get their information and go on about his business, he’s content, but Noya is so forthright and intense that Asahi can’t help but be curious.

It bothers him, but he doesn’t know why.

“Oh,” says Kozume, voice breaking into Asahi’s thought process abruptly again, “another robbery. I wonder if it’s a chain?”

When Asahi looks back up, Kozume is still looking at his laptop, but now he’s leaning closer to the screen, visibly reading something. He turns away and wheels his swivel chair over to the side table by the door to retrieve the remote.

“Last I heard, there wasn’t any correlation between the places that were being hit.” Akaashi replies, gaze lifting from his papers. “They’re thinking it’s separate cases, but who knows. The police don’t read too into situations if the evidence is obvious.” “Lazy asses,” Kozume scoffs, clicking through channels on the overhead TV.

“Robberies?” Asahi speaks up, confused.

He hasn’t been actively keeping up with the news outside of early weather reports recently, a little more concerned with his own issues and his work. It’s more than enough to balance work and the whole memory loss thing, and while he definitely should be better about keeping up with the rest of the world, it hasn’t been his main concern as of late.

Kozume settles on a news channel. The news anchor is in the middle of reporting on the subject at hand — another local robbery. It’s the third in the past two weeks, but there’s no evidence to connect it to the other two. This one had targeted a tiny, one bedroom home on the city outskirts. Asahi frowns at the news coverage. He doesn’t understand why anyone would target a place where there was unlikely to be anything to be gained, but he feels bad for the homeowner. The newscast says they came out undamaged since they weren’t home at the time, but nonetheless, he understands the feeling of having your life uprooted suddenly.

Asahi shakes his head and returns his attention to the files before him, scribbling notes down on things to look into further and potential leads. He’ll have to remember to find Noya again and get his contact information this time. Noya is the best lead he has at this point, and hopefully he can get something out of the other man to get him somewhere in this seemingly dead end case.

In the background, the television drones on.

When evening gives way to the end of his work day, Asahi finds himself searching the rush hour crowd for the tuft of electric blond that he’s becoming so familiar with. He can’t figure out why he’s trying to find Noya here; after all, he’d come to the conclusion that he lives on the other side of town, so he doubts he’ll see him here. On the other hand, it’s possible Noya works over here too. It’d be a strange coincidence for him to be in the same working and living situation as Asahi himself, but it’d make sense as to why Noya had come to their agency in particular. It's possible that it's also the opposite way around, with Noya living here and working on the other side of town. All of the facts Asahi knows check out with one of those theories; it’d explain why Noya was at the train station, too.

But by the time he gets to the station, he hasn’t spotted Noya anywhere. Even amongst the people waiting on the platform, he can’t see the wild, dark hair, and there’s a pang of disappointment in his chest. He tries to ignore it, but it’s a persistent feeling, and more surprisingly, one that doesn’t feel new. He can’t imagine forgetting someone like Noya, but he’d forgotten someone like Suga already, so his memory loss isn’t discriminating.

The train whistles a warning. Asahi startles, hurrying on instinctively. He hadn’t even realized the train had pulled up. He looks for Noya one more time, but upon confirming that the other man is nowhere to be seen, averts his gaze to his feet. The train doors hiss shut around him, before it lurches into motion, pulling away from the platform.

It’s strange, he thinks, how lonely the platform looks disappearing behind them.

When the train comes to a hissing stop at his destination platform, Asahi’s phone begins to vibrate aggressively against his thigh. He waits until he’s clear of all the people to check it, unlocking the screen to several tests and a missed call from Suga. Just as he’s going to check the texts, Suga’s name lights up his screen again. Asahi nearly drops his phone in his haste to answer the call.

“Asahi!” Sugawara practically yells. “Have you been keeping up with the news?”

Asahi slowly brings the phone back to his ear as he walks, having held it away in his haste to avoid having his eardrums blown out.

“The news?” He echoes. “Like the robberies?”

“Yeah! Apparently, there was another one! I guess the person tried to fight back and get this - they ended up in the hospital with multiple gunshot wounds.”

Asahi grimaces. If all of these robberies are connected, then it could be a problem. Generally speaking, most robbers would flee if they were caught or met with resistance, but if this one had no qualms with hurting people, it could get dirty. Asahi is hoping they aren’t connected, but it’s starting to look doubtful. He’ll have to catch up on the situation when he gets home.

“That’s-”

Asahi cut off, turning his head to follow the abrupt streak of color that had caught his eye. He’s a few blocks from his apartment, at best, but now he turns around entirely, gaze searching. He spots it again just in time to watch it vanish through the door of a tiny coffee shop. Asahi hesitates.

“Asahi?” Sugawara calls from his phone. “Hellooo? Earth to Asahi! What happened?” “S-Sorry, Suga,” Asahi says quickly, feet already guiding him towards the building, “I have to go. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

“Huh? Hold on, wh-”

The line goes dead as Asahi jabs the end call button, shoving his phone unceremoniously back into his pocket as he enters the cafe. The bell chimes gently overhead as he pushes the door open, and someone at the front calls out a greeting that he only half hears. He’s busy thinking about how Suga will be upset with him later for hanging up so abruptly; he’s thinking that maybe he should feel a little worse about that than he does, and it has him wondering if he’s less of a friend for it. He’s busy thinking about how he’s sure to get an earful later, but his body is moving across the cafe, toward a booth in the corner where he can see the backside of dark, wild hair, and the small flick of a tag sticking up from the inside of a white t-shirt.

The man in the booth lifts his head when Asahi rounds the table, piercing gaze fixing onto the detective. It’s as if he comes back to earth all at once, awareness lighting his eyes and his expression picking up in something vaguely resembling surprise. “Asahi!” He half yells, slamming his palms into the table and standing in one motion.

Asahi flinches at the abrupt shout and one of the employees glances their way. Ducking his head bashfully, Asahi makes himself as small as possible as he slides into the booth across from Noya, reaching out to gesture Noya back into his own seat. Preferably, he thinks, as quietly as possible.

Luckily, Noya drops unceremoniously back into his seat, staring intensely at Asahi.

“What are you doing here?” He demands.

“I…” Asahi grimaces, knowing how strange this is going to sound, “I saw you coming in. You never gave me any sort of contact, so I haven’t been able to reach you for anything regarding the case.”

Noya visibly straightens. “Have you figured out something new?”

“Well, not exactly, but-”

“Oh,” Noya continues, cutting him off, “I don’t have a phone.”

Well, that certainly threw a wrench in things, didn’t it? It’s just Asahi’s luck, he supposes. Still, he’s got to figure out some way to keep up contact with Noya, since he’s Asahi’s only sure link to the case.

His phone buzzes incessantly in his pocket.

“Okay, then take mine,” Asahi grabs a napkin from the table, fishing a pen from the front breast pocket of his jacket. “And if you can, just let me know if you come across anything new. Can we meet again sometime here to sit down and talk? Like Friday?” Noya takes the napkin and with surprising tenderness, folds it, and tucks it into the pocket of his black basketball shorts. He’s staring at Asahi still, but Asahi can’t tell what he’s thinking about.

“Okay,” Noya says, “Friday.”

And there it is again; Asahi meets his gaze and he feels like he’s missing something, like there’s a piece here that he should be aware of. He can’t shake it, that feeling that he just knows Noya from somewhere, from before all this.

“Noya,” he breathes, “have we met before? Before you came in with the case?”

Noya scrutinizes him for a long moment, almost unresponsive, as if the question hadn’t even registered to him. There’s something off about the entire moment, the motionless state of someone who feels like he should always be moving. Slowly, his lips pinch into a frown, just a little downward tilt that looks so off on his features. His expression darkens, hooded over like a shadow fell across him.

He looks unsure. He looks scared.

It’s only for a moment, so quick that Asahi is sure it must have been his imagination because then Noya is laughing, loud and rambunctious and more like the one that seems familiar to Asahi.

“No way!” He decides. “You must be imagining things, Azumane-san! There’s no way you’d forget someone as cool as me!”

Asahi feels like his veins have frozen over. He’s cold down to the bone.

“Of course,” he agrees, smiling shakily, “that’s true.”

There’s a seed of doubt rooting itself in his chest, and Asahi is too scared to try to figure out the root of it.

He stands again, bidding Noya a good night, and hurries out the door before the other man gets another word in edgewise, but he feels Noya’s gaze follow him out the door. His phone vibrates in his pocket again, and he takes it out, preparing himself for the earful he’s going to get.

Something is reassuring about Suga’s ranting on the other end. It gets him home.

When he looks over the case again that night, he writes details about the recent robberies down on a notebook next to it. He gathers what he can from the news and more from the internet. Tomorrow, he’ll get more info on it from Kozume, and Friday, he’ll get what he can from Noya. He doesn’t know yet if he’s making progress here, but he’s hoping for the best.

At this point, it’s all he can do.

It isn’t until he’s getting ready for bed, braiding his hair back out of his face, that the thought strikes him. He’s thinking about the tiny coffee shop, about the bell over the door, about the way Noya had called him Asahi. He has the distinctive memory of introducing himself only as Azumane.

So where had Noya gotten his given name?

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

“You look different,” Noya remarks.

Asahi feels like he’s having deja vu. He hardly knows where the week has gone, and now he’s back at the tiny coffee shop with Noya. They’re seated in the same booth as before. Noya’s shirt tag is sticking out. Asahi has his hair loose.

“It’s the hair,” they say, in sync, and Noya grins when Asahi cracks a smile.

“Finally!” He laughs. “I was starting to think you couldn’t smile properly! You’re so nervous all the time that I was starting to wonder how you’d ended up in this line of work.”

Asahi tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “Well, I’m sure it probably wasn’t my dream career, but I don’t remember enough about my old life to know how true that is. I guess it seems like a pretty unpredictable career, but it’s routine enough to be comforting.”

Noya frowns at him. “Whaddya mean you don’t remember?” Asahi winces. Outside of the fact that nobody else wants to discuss the accident, Asahi tries not to talk about it too much. Trying to remember gives him an intense migraine, and he hates the pitying looks he gets from it. He hates feeling helpless, and there��s this part of him that wouldn’t be able to handle it if Noya looked at him like that.

“I had an accident a while back,” Asahi replies vaguely, waving one hand dismissively, “nothing important.”

Noya’s watching him like he doesn’t believe him. Asahi avoids his gaze; he has the distinct feeling that Noya will see right through him otherwise.

“Okay,” Noya finally says, “then what about that necklace you’re always playing with? The ring. Are you married or something?”

Asahi doesn’t even realize he’s messing with it until Noya points it out. He’s busted, caught like a deer in headlights under Noya’s drilling questions. His words die in his throat, lips parted but nothing coming out.

I don’t know, he thinks, clenching his fist around the ring. He shoves it back into his shirt and grips the edge of the table, focusing on keeping his hands there. “No,” he manages, smile tight again, “but it doesn’t matter. We’re here to talk about the case, remember?”

Noya’s gaze flicks down, but he doesn’t push it.

“Right.”

Noya talks. It’s not all connected, more stream of thought and dropping details as they come to him, but Asahi listens. He takes notes, putting things that he knows already on one page and things he’s hearing for the first time on another. Some of Noya’s tales have nothing to do with the case, but Asahi lets them slide, and then he realizes that Noya hasn’t been talking about the case for a while.

But here’s Asahi, pen down and still listening. There’s something about Noya’s energy that’s so easy to get wrapped up in, and Asahi hadn’t even realized he was in it until it was too late. Maybe it’s the way Noya feels familiar to him, like second nature, or the way he’s sure he must know Noya from before, but the sensation is contagious, quick like electricity and quiet like a thief.

“Azumane-san?”

Noya’s voice breaks into his thoughts again. Asahi starts, focusing back on the task at hand. He doesn’t know when he’d stopped writing, or when the case discussion had ended and the casual talk had begun, but he does realize, belatedly, that they never got their coffee. The baristas bring them out here, he’d noticed, so it strikes him as a little strange.

“Sorry,” Asahi tells him, “I just realized we don’t have our drinks.”

As if on cue, Noya’s gaze moves from Asahi to the woman approaching their table. Asahi tears his gaze away from the man in front of him to focus on her as well, putting on his most polite smile as she sets the coffee down in front of him.

“Here you go,” she says, “sorry about the wait.”

She turns to leave, and Asahi realizes that she’s only brought his drink.

“Sorry, ma’am?” He calls quickly. “What about my fri-”

He turns to gesture at Noya and falters. The seat across from him is empty; Noya is gone. The employee gives him a strange look, glancing between him and the empty booth across from him. Asahi swallows his sentence back down, where it feels like a thick lump in his throat.

“Nevermind,” he says instead, “thank you.”

She glances at the booth opposite of him again and then seems to simply accept it as strange, for she turns and heads back to the front, leaving Asahi alone with the ghost of Noya’s electric presence.

He ends up getting a to-go cup for his coffee.

Asahi doesn’t know how he got back to his apartment, only that he gets there and he comes back to awareness when he’s unlocking his front door. He falters, hand on his doorknob, gaze fixed on the crook between his thumb and his forefinger. Everything comes back all at once. Is this the right thing to do? Should he have just followed the advice and refused the case upfront? He doesn’t even know when Noya had slipped out. Had it been the brief moment he’d turned his attention to the girl at the shop? Asahi hadn't even heard the bell.

Why hadn’t Noya said anything?

Asahi is starting to think he’s getting too ahead of himself, thinking one normal conversation and a borrowed jacket makes them friends or something. But there’s the thought he’s been hesitant to admit to himself; he wants to be friends with Noya. Something about the other man makes him feel comfortable, regardless of his eccentric nature, and he’s starting to think that maybe Noya was right about his career choice being the wrong one for him.

He can’t afford to get attached to every other person he meets in this line of work. Noya is the first, but Asahi can’t say for sure if he’ll be the last, and Asahi doesn’t even know when the line in the sand got washed away. He doesn’t know if it happened halfway through their conversation or the first time he’d realized something about Noya was too familiar to ignore. Still, Noya had been right about one thing: there’s no way Asahi could have forgotten someone like him.

It’s the only reason Asahi is hesitant to let the feeling of familiarity go.

He realizes with a start that he’s still standing outside, so he pushes the door open and ducks into his apartment. Whatever he ends up deciding to do here, he’s got all the information he thinks he’s going to get from Noya. For now, he needs to crack down on the case. The longer he drags this on, the worse it will get for the both of them. He wants to give Noya the best chance he has of moving on from this, and the only way to do that is to solve it as soon as possible.

Asahi takes his shoes off at the entryway and heads into the living room, setting his bag down next to the low table in front of his couch. He yanks his hair up into a half-hearted bun and collects his notes and files, adding them to the growing pile on the table. Clicking the television on for background noise, he gets to work sorting. The details are still minimal, and the progress looks minimal, but it’s better than nothing. Besides, there’s still that robber at large, and while Asahi has no surefire proof to connect the two outside of a gut feeling, he’s learned very quickly to trust his gut.

He glances up at the TV just in time to catch a glimpse of a reporter standing in front of a house, door caved in and front yard taped off by obnoxious yellow crime scene signs. It catches his attention immediately, so he glances down at the caption.

Armed robbery. Voluntary manslaughter.

Asahi’s heart jumps to his throat. His eyes dart down to the file. What were the odds?

What if it hadn’t been involuntary? The file states that the person had been found dead at the scene, a victim of multiple gunshot wounds from a robbery gone wrong. Robbery. Check. Armed suspect. Check. Had they considered a lack of qualms against hurting people? Asahi flips his notebook to a fresh page and begins charting all the locations the robber had hit thus far. Maybe there’s some sort of pattern they’re overlooking, a rhyme or reason to the places the robber is targeting.

His facts are minimal but sure.

The robber only targets houses, never businesses. The types of houses vary. No known pattern thus far.

The robber is armed and dangerous. Generally, there’s minimal damage to any people they happen to rob, but when those people get in the way or fight back, it’s a different story. There have been people both hospitalized and killed.

The robber has no qualms about killing people who got in the way.

Asahi stares at the page. Finally, at the bottom, he writes Noya? beneath his list of facts. He doesn’t know what the precise connection is with Noya’s case in all of this, but if he can predict where the robber is going to strike next, maybe there’s something to be found there. That’s only if the police themselves don’t beat him there first. Either way, hopefully, some sort of confession would come out and Asahi could call this closed properly. If this is unrelated, then he’s going to have to think of something else fast.

It’s nearly four in the morning when he finally talks himself into going to sleep, but it’s restless at best, and he rises early. He’s off on weekends, so they’re his only opportunity to go get things done if he doesn’t want to go right after work. The case weighs heavily on his thoughts for the entirety of his morning run. When he passes the lake he’d run into Noya at that time, he pauses, only for a moment, to glance around, but Noya isn’t there.

Asahi keeps running, but he’s starting to feel less like he’s keeping active and more like he’s trying to get away from something. He feels like he’s running away from a lot of things, as of late. It can’t be helped.

Azumane Asahi is a coward, he tells himself, and this time he doesn’t think it’s a lie at all.

The next time he sees Noya, it’s on the same route and nearly a week later. Asahi finds himself searching the route consistently without even knowing if Noya even lives in the area, hoping to catch some sort of glimpse of the other man. He hasn’t heard anything from Noya since the day at the coffee shop, and he’s starting to grow a little concerned.

His traitorous heart says something else, but Asahi tries not to listen too hard to things made of glass.

There’s rustling overhead when Asahi passes beneath a tree. It’s followed by a loud yowl, and it’s this that makes Asahi falter in his steps. He pauses, turning his head up to squint into the branches. The early morning sun is bright, near blinding, but the shadow that covers Asahi blocks it out.

He sees the little tag sticking out of the collar of the white shirt first, and then the outstretched arm, pale and skinny, reaching out to a higher branch. Asahi can mostly only see the person’s silhouette, but he knows that figure anywhere.

“Noya?” He calls up hesitantly.

Golden eyes fix on him immediately. Noya looks vaguely surprised, arm still outstretched, lips parted into a perfect little circle. There’s a cat a few branches up from his perch, a skinny little tabby with all of its fur puffed out. Its teeth are bared at the other man, a low growl rising in his throat.

Asahi hasn’t ever seen a cat react like that to someone. Usually, the strays around this area are calm, used to the joggers and families who come through the park trails all the time. He frowns a little at the sight, putting one hand on his hip and using the other to shield his eyes as he peers up.

“Oh,” says Noya, “Hey, Azumane. Fancy seeing you here.”

“I run here every morning now,” Asahi frowns, “you already knew that. What are you doing up there?”

Noya gestures to the cat, who swings at his moving hand. “I came up to save him, but he won’t let me anywhere near him. I think I’m just gonna grab him and deal with the consequences later.”

“What.” Asahi intones.

Noya reaches for the cat.

“What?” Asahi repeats. “Wait, no-”

Noya stretches out of his crouch and snatches the cat in one quick motion. The tabby immediately begins yelling, claws sinking wherever they can reach. Noya yelps, and then takes a surprised step back into mid-air. Asahi shouts. All at once, Noya and the cat come crashing down through the branches, and Asahi slides down on his knees beneath them, breath leaving his body as they collide.

Asahi groans softly from his place on the ground. Noya scrambles off of him, eyes wide. He’s still holding the cat, who looks shaken, but overall unharmed.

“Asahi!” Noya gasps. “Are you okay? Shit, I’m sorry!”

Asahi waves him off with one hand, sitting up slowly. His torso aches where he’d ungracefully caught them, but at least they seem unharmed. His hair falls loose around his shoulders, and he looks around for the tie, only to find it snapped on the ground. It’d been fraying, so he isn’t surprised, but it’s still a little inconvenient.

“It’s okay,” he manages, when he finally catches his breath, “are you two okay?”

Noya beams, holding the cat up victoriously. “We’re totally fine!”

The cat bites Noya’s hand. Noya drops the tabby, and he bolts without so much as a glance back. The short man sulks as he stares after the vanishing animal, crossing his arms over his chest. There are claw marks down the length of his forearms and branches still stuck in his black basketball shorts.

“Rude,” Noya says, getting up.

He offers a hand to Asahi, but Asahi, a little doubtful that Noya can lift him, stands on his own.

“You should be more careful,” he says, frowning.

“I had it handled!”

“You fell out of a tree.”

Noya purses his lips. “You know. Fair.” He sticks his index finger out as if to agree that Asahi has a point. “You got me there.”

“How did you even get up there?” Asahi asks, gazing up at the tree.

There aren’t any visible branches that Noya could have used to climb, and Asahi has to admit that even with his height, he would have been hard-pressed to reach the lowest ones. There’s no way to get a handhold on the trunk, either, so he’s not sure how Noya got up there to begin with.

Noya shrugs. “I climbed? The cat couldn’t get down so I went up to help him.”

Asahi sighs. “Okay, Noya. My apartment isn’t far from here, so let me at least treat the scratches. It’d be bad if you got something.”

Noya hesitates, but then he looks down, inspects his arms, and grimaces a little.

“Okay, lead the way.”

Asahi tucks his hair behind his ears and turns, starting at a steady pace back up the pathway. Noya keeps at his heels, carefree and cheerful as he turns his arms over, inspecting his new battle scars. It’s almost endearing, Asahi dares to think, but he’s still not over how the cat had acted with Noya. Asahi is sure Noya isn’t a bad person, but he’s never seen a reaction like that in the months he’s been running here.

He frowns back as if the tree itself will give him answers, but it stands tall and silent, shadowed against the pale blue sky.

When they climb the steps to Asahi’s apartment, the realization hits him like a bullet. He’s bringing Noya into his apartment. How had they gotten here? Is his apartment even clean? It’s so plain that he doesn’t know what Noya is going to think about it. Had he done the dishes already or were they still sitting in the sink?

Anxiety settles in like a second skin, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. They’re already at the door and Noya is looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to unlock it. Asahi tries to hide the way his hands shake as he puts the key in the lock and opens it, letting Noya into the dark entryway.

Noya kicks off his shoes at the entrance, and Asahi follows suit, stepping in ahead of the other man. The sink is clean. The living room has a few books on the table and stray papers from his brainstorming session the other night, but otherwise it isn’t unacceptable. He flicks the light on and crosses to the table, shoving the papers messily together.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company,” he says, “make yourself at home and I’ll grab my first aid kit.”

Noya plops onto the couch, looking around like a curious child. Asahi feels strange having someone over like this. He seldom has company, especially new company, and he feels like he’s being assessed for some sort of test. Clutching the papers to his chest, Asahi hurries into his room for the first aid kit in his bathroom.

Noya is still sitting on the couch when Asahi returns. His gaze is fixed on a photo hanging on the wall. It’s of Asahi, fresh out of the hospital, Suga and Daichi standing just behind him in the frame. Shimizu had been the one to take it, and it’s one of the earliest things he still remembers. Noya frowns at it a little, like he’s struggling to think about something, and Asahi just figures he must have zoned out.

“Noya?” He says as he nears.

Noya straightens, almost imperceptibly, turning his gaze to Asahi as the other man crouches in front of him, opening the first aid kit and setting it aside on the table. Noya gets the hint and offers out his arms while Asahi prepares a cotton pad for cleaning the scratches.

“Ouch,” Noya hisses once Asahi starts dabbing over them.

Asahi shakes his head, holding Noya by the wrist to keep his arm steady.

“Are those your friends?” Noya asks suddenly.

Asahi glances up at him, and then back at the photo. “Yeah,” he says, turning his gaze back onto his task. “The one with the silver hair is Suga. The dark-haired one is Daichi. Our other friend, Shimizu, took the photo, but she’s not very fond of being in them. They were there with me when I was in the hospital for a while.”

“What were you there for?”

Asahi grimaces, remembering why he’d avoided the subject the last time he’d talked to Noya. “Uh,” he starts hesitantly.

He can feel Noya’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t meet his eyes. Asahi gets the feeling that he’ll spill everything if he does, so he stubbornly keeps his focus on treating Noya’s scratches.

“It’s okay, Azumane-san,” Noya laughs, “you don’t have to tell me. I was just being nosy.”

Asahi exhales, a little relieved. He wraps up Noya’s first arm, having finished treating the scratches there. Moving onto the second one, Asahi grabs a fresh cotton pad. He frowns as he sets back to work.

“Noya,” he starts, “where did you go, the other day? At the cafe, I mean?”

Noya stiffens a little under his grip.

“Sorry about that,” the other man mumbles, “I had an emergency I had to handle, so…”

“Oh,” says Asahi, unconvinced, “okay. I was just worried… You just up and vanished without saying anything.”

Noya doesn’t go into any more detail, and Asahi doesn’t push it. He gets the feeling Noya isn’t telling the whole truth, but he’s not going to try to force it out. He has his own secrets, and he’s sure Noya has plenty himself. Despite seeming like a very open person, he’s come to notice that Noya is strange, like he’s never quite there most of the time, and the times that he is, he seems so full of life that he’s ready to burst with it.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Noya’s voice is painfully soft.

Asahi’s heart aches. He doesn’t know why that gentle voice hurts, only that it does something strange to him. He catches himself holding his breath, as if even that will break this moment. He knows better. He knows better. He doesn’t know Noya, and Noya doesn’t know him. They’re client and employee, nothing more.

Asahi doesn’t even know himself. How could he even hope to let someone else know him?

“It’s okay,” Asahi gets out, but his voice sounds foreign to himself like it’s coming from someone else speaking in his place instead of him.

Something about the intimacy of the moment makes Asahi feel like he’s an outsider, watching his own hands and fingers tenderly take care of Noya’s newly acquired scratches. He knows there’s more on the man’s face, but he’s scared to raise his gaze. He’s scared that whatever is happening is going to shatter the moment they make eye contact. Asahi is going to realize it’s all in his head, or Noya is going to realize it’s strange for him to be in what is essentially a stranger’s house.

He feels like he knows Noya. The feeling won’t go away, but Noya has told him that he’s sure they’ve never met. Asahi couldn’t forget someone like him, and Asahi is inclined to agree. He’s stalling now, and he knows it, and he’s sure Noya knows it, but neither of them say anything about it as Asahi cleans over the scars a second, and then a third time.

Finally, he bandages the second arm. Noya’s skin is cold beneath his grip, freezing like the other man has been standing in negative temperatures for hours. Asahi knows this isn’t the case, so he assumes Noya must just run cold in comparison to Asahi himself. Noya seems unbothered, either way.

“Thanks,” Noya finally breaks the silence.

Asahi dares to raise his gaze. Noya’s eyes are trained on him, sharp and focused with such intense clarity that Asahi is momentarily taken aback. Noya looks as if he’s a page ahead of Asahi, waiting for him to catch up. Asahi isn’t sure if he should, much less if he wants to.

“Well,” he replies, averting his gaze to get another cotton pad, “I wasn’t just going to leave you after I watched it happen. I don’t mean to be rude, but you seem like you’d neglect taking care of them.”

Noya grins crookedly in the corner of his vision. “You’re right,” he says, “I would. But that’s not all I was thanking you for.”

Asahi pauses, mid-turn, pad raised to start in on the scratches on Noya’s face. He blinks, confused. “Huh?”

“That was for everything,” Noya continues. “I know this case isn’t easy on you. I’m sorry I dumped it on you, but something told me you’re the only one who can handle it, and I always listen to my instinct. It hasn’t steered me wrong yet. So I was saying thank you for putting up with all of this.”

Oh, Asahi thinks, and then says, “Oh.”

Noya laughs. “Oh?”

“Sorry. No, wait. I mean… You don’t need to thank me.” Asahi reaches out, carefully starting to clean the scratches across Noya’s cheek.

“Ow,” Noya says, again.

“Sorry,” Asahi frowns, knowing there isn’t much he can do about the pain.

“It’s okay. I got myself into this, so I’ll tough it out!” The golden-eyed boy declares.

Asahi smiles to himself. Noya’s energy is near contagious, and he’s just about forgotten about his previous anxiety of having the other man in his house. Noya seems nonchalant and uncaring, like he doesn’t care to judge how Asahi lives either way.

“There,” Asahi says, putting bandages over the last few scratches. “Done.”

Noya gives him a double thumbs-up, grinning so widely it looks painful. “Cool! Thanks, Asahi! You’re the best!”

Asahi holds both hands up placatingly. “I wouldn’t go that far…”

“No!” A fire lights in Noya’s eyes, and he reaches out, grabbing both of Asahi’s hands so abruptly that the brunet squeaks. “It’s true! Don’t go selling yourself short, okay?”

Asahi’s voice catches in his throat. He wants to protest again, but Noya’s gaze is so intense that he physically can’t bring himself to do anything more than nod in agreement. It seems to satisfy Noya, so he releases Asahi’s hands and hops up from the couch.

“Alright! I’m gonna head out now, but I’ll see you soon, yeah? We’ll get this done!”

Noya reaches out, bumping Asahi’s shoulder with his fist. The little tap startles Asahi back into reality, and he scrambles to his feet, following Noya to the door and watching him put his shoes on. At the door, they both hesitate. Asahi looks down at his feet, but he can feel Noya’s gaze on him.

“Be safe,” Asahi says, finally.

Noya stares at him for a long moment. Finally, he reaches out, squeezes Asahi’s arm, and then turns away and bolts down the stairs. Asahi watches him jog down the road, and then vanish over the crest of the hill, out of sight, but never out of mind.

Maybe, he considers, he should have tried to make him stay.

Asahi stares at the hill Noya had vanished over for a long moment longer. He stares as if he’s waiting for the other man to turn around and come back, citing that it’s too late to head home, and the trains aren’t running anyway, so it’d take a while on foot. Asahi still doesn’t know if Noya lives nearby or closer to the agency, but either way, he could have thought of something.

He stares on, but Noya doesn’t come back. Finally, Asahi closes the door behind him and flicks the lock.

“You’ve been busy lately,” Kozume remarks, the following Monday, without looking up from his Switch screen.

Asahi doesn’t know how he gets away with playing video games at work so often, but he supposes as long as Kozume is efficient at his job, their boss doesn’t really care. He’s starting to give Asahi some eyes about the case he’s on, so he knows it’s time to hurry up and wrap it up.

Narita comes in, bearing coffee. He hands them out to each of the others in the room, setting Kozume’s next to him and handing Akaashi’s off. Crossing to Asahi, he offers out the coffee.

“Same as usual? How’s it going?” He asks.

Asahi accepts the warm drink from the receptionist. “It’s going,” he sighs, “I haven’t made too much progress outside of some guessed predictions. My sole witness has this habit of up and vanishing and apparently doesn’t have a phone to contact.”

Narita nods sympathetically. “Client isn’t making it easy, huh? This is probably your first one of those, but I see them come through all the time. It’ll work out, so don’t stress too much.”

“He can do with a little stress,” Akaashi comments, taking a sip of his coffee.

Narita turns to give him a withering look and then turns back to Asahi. “Anyway, drink up while it’s warm and then go back into this thing with a fresh mind, yeah? Good luck, Azumane.”

Asahi watches the receptionist go, and takes a long drink of his coffee. It burns his tongue, but he doesn’t flinch away. The moment of pain, however brief, does its part to make everything come into sharper focus. Three days from now, he’ll have been slugging through this case for a month. That’s the time limit he’s going to give himself; if he hasn’t figured this out or made any significant progress in the next few days, he’s going to tell Noya he can’t do it.

Resolution set in his mind, Asahi dives back into his work with renewed vigor.

“Don’t stay too late,” Akaashi says, later that night.

Kozume is already long gone, and Akaashi had finished his work, so he’s getting ready to leave too. It’s just Asahi now, with everyone else out. The black-haired man puts his jacket over his arm and strolls out. Only a moment later, Narita peers in.

“Azumane? Someone is waiting outside for you.”

Asahi glances up, confused. He hadn’t been expecting anybody, but it’s as good a reason as any to change location. He nods in acknowledgment to Narita and hurries to pack his things, pulling his bag over his shoulder and heading out.

Outside, he glances around in search of the person. It takes him a minute to spot them, but when his gaze shifts down, it catches on the streak of blond in Noya’s hair. The other man looks up when Asahi emerges from the building, and then stands immediately when he realizes who it is.

“Noya?” Asahi questions, surprised.

“Hey,” Noya smiles crookedly, “sorry for showing up out of nowhere. I was out and I just ended up here. Are you getting ready to head home?”

Asahi readjusts his bag. “Yeah, I just finished for the night. How did you end up way out here again?”

Noya opens his mouth to answer, and then closes it again, frowning in confusion. Finally, he just shrugs a little, as if he isn’t sure himself.

“I just did,” he says. “Can I walk with you?”

Asahi hesitates, but finally nods in concession. Noya falls into step beside him as he heads out towards the train station. It’s later than Asahi usually leaves, and the streets are nearly empty now. The sun is starting to set beneath the taller buildings in the distance, and Asahi gets the feeling it will be well past dark by the time he gets home.

“Do you live around here, Noya?” Asahi asks, glancing down at the other man.

He recalls seeing Noya back near where he lives, as well, but maybe the shorter man just gets around a lot. This is his chance to finally figure it out, so Asahi seizes it.

Noya hesitates a little, lips parting like he’s going to speak, then closing again. “Uh,” he starts, glancing around, “well-”

Noya cuts off, gaze catching on movement nearby. There’s a girl, no older than seven or eight, stumbling down the sidewalk. Even from this distance, Asahi can see the scrapes on her knees. She’s bawling, rubbing her face with the back of her hands, but steadily making her way down the sidewalk nonetheless, like she’s on a mission.

Asahi exchanges a look with Noya, and they both hurry toward her. Noya reaches her first, crouching in front of her and starting to talk. Asahi is a short pace behind him, catching up just in time to hear the child speak through her tears and sniffling.

“A bad man came into our house,” she sniffles, stuttering around her hiccups, “and Mama told me to run away and get help, but she’s stuck there with him!”

Asahi’s blood goes cold. This is it. The one time he hadn’t been trying to find the man and it practically fell into his lap. Noya is clearly thinking the same thing, expression hard and eyebrows downturned. He meets Asahi’s eyes and nods.

“Hi,” Asahi says, crouching down, “I’m a detective. I can go help your mama, but I need you to tell me which house is yours. Can you do that for me?”

The girl sniffs, looking up at him. “T-The one with the flower mailbox Mama and I painted…”

Noya is already running. Asahi squeezes the girl’s shoulders, getting back to his feet.

“Listen carefully. We’re going to go help your mama, so I need you to be brave for me, okay? Find someone and ask them to call the police for you. We’ll make sure your mom is safe.”

The little girl’s gaze follows him as he runs after Noya. He has no chance of catching up with the spitfire of a man, but Noya waits at the door for him, clearly trying to find a good way in. Asahi glances into the shattered window. The coast seems clear. He gestures to Noya and creeps around to the front door, opening it slowly.

It doesn’t creak, and Asahi thanks any god that exists as he and Noya sneak into the quiet house. Asahi puts a finger to his lips, signaling for Noya to follow him. Together, they quietly round the corner and immediately come face to face with the robber.

They catch the man by surprise. Asahi sees it in the glance he gets of the man’s expression before he’s forced to leap out of the way, bullets riddling the wall where he’d just been standing. To his right, Noya hisses from his spot on the ground, and Asahi has to suppress the nausea that rises in his chest at the sight of red blossoming across Noya’s shoulder.

“Noya,” he gasps, scrambling over, “I’m so sorry. I should have reacted faster. You’re going to need medical attention-” “Asahi,” Noya’s grin edges on pained, but he’s pushing through, nudging Asahi away. “I’m fine. I'm tough, remember? So don’t worry about me. I’ll live, so worry about that kid’s mom first. You bust that guy for the both of us, okay?”

His fingers brush Asahi’s cheek, cold against the skin there, and Asahi’s everything zeroes in on just that sensation. He focuses on the way that Noya’s hand feels against his cheek, electricity at his fingertips. He focuses on the way that regardless of whether he’d known Noya before or not, he knows him now, and he wouldn’t ask for it any other way.

Kissing Noya feels like second nature. He’s careful of the other man’s shoulder, even if it’s nothing more than a brief press of lips, but when he pulls away, Noya exhales like it’s the first breath he’s taken in years.

“Stay safe,” he tells Asahi, “‘cause if you die on me, I’ll summon you back and annoy you as a ghost.”

Asahi laughs. “I won’t. Get somewhere safe, Noya.”

He squeezes Noya’s hand and then hurries into the hallway, keeping low and staying alert. He doesn’t know where the robber is, but the robber doesn’t know his location either. But only one of them has a gun, and it isn’t Asahi, so he’s at a disadvantage here. His priority is getting the woman out safely, but he hasn’t seen her yet, so he’s hoping she’s already hiding somewhere safe. His and Noya’s arrival had distracted the robber for a moment, and he just has to hope the moment is enough if he can’t find her first.

Asahi ducks behind the couch just in time to avoid being seen by the man who creeps in through the next hall. He drops to his hands and knees, sneaking around the side to watch the man’s slow progression towards the kitchen, where he assumes there’s a side door. The man’s gaze sweeps the room once, twice. Asahi creeps forward when his back is turned, and the moment he takes a step to move away, Asahi lunges.

He’s scared. God, he’s terrified. He shouldn’t have made any promises to Noya. He isn’t immortal. If this man gets the upper hand, Asahi knows he has no chance.

But he can’t think about that. Right now, he can only focus on survival, on grappling with the man before him for control over the single gun. The robber’s eyes are wide, wild with disbelief. Asahi can’t figure out what he’s so surprised about; surely, he’d expected someone to come after him eventually for all of this? Asahi pulls and the man resists, They shove and turn and twist, brute strength against brute strength, fighting for control of the situation. A stray shot shatters a vase, and there’s a muffled whimper from the closet next to it.

The woman.

Asahi has the upper hand. It’s only for a moment, but the sound distracts him, and the moment is more than enough. The robber twists around and slams his elbow into Asahi’s face hard enough to send him pinwheeling back into the coffee table, head slamming into the wood hard enough to make his vision go black, and then blurry. The aftermath leaves Asahi feeling like there’s an army in his skull waging war against the bones, pounding relentlessly against his forehead.

It hurts. It hurts. He can’t think. He can barely see straight.

He’s been in this situation before.

When he manages to get his vision to focus, only a little, he is staring down the barrel of the gun. The man’s chest heaves, expression twisted in fury, all bared teeth and vicious stance. And this is it — Asahi has no chance here. This is the end, and his promise to Noya will go unfulfilled after all. He thinks about Noya, laughing loud and free, holding his hand to the sunlight so the golden band on his finger glitters. Except Asahi doesn’t know where he picked up that memory. His head is pounding, a steady thump, thump, thump against his skull. His head is pounding and he is thinking and Azumane Asahi is going to die here and now, just like the man in the case he’d been trying so hard to solve. He can’t even close his eyes, watching the man’s finger on the trigger as if in slow motion.

But it never comes.

Instead, there is Noya, howling bloody murder, all feral motions and vengeful anger, streaking out of the hallway and barreling into the man. They both hit the ground and the gun skids away from them. Asahi’s shaken, but he still notices the lack of red staining Noya’s white t-shirt. Asahi trembles, but he realizes right away that Noya’s wound looks as if it had never existed to begin with. Noya looms over the man like a wraith, teeth bared, golden eyes glittering with a promise, a threat, and Asahi thinks to grab the gun before the man recovers from Noya’s winding attack. The would-be thief writhes beneath the other man, but Noya is unyielding and less hesitant than Asahi.

He takes the flower pot off the table and breaks it over the man’s head, knocking him out cold. Asahi is left in stunned silence, clutching the gun, staring at Noya as he hunches over the unconscious man, shoulders heaving with every breath. Asahi is still concerned; he can’t see Noya’s wound, or any sign of it, but for all he knows, Noya had just managed to find an extra shirt. It’s doubtful and farfetched, but it’s the only possible explanation, isn’t it?

“Asahi,” Noya gasps, “Asahi, are you okay? Did he hurt you? You’re bleeding.” He hadn’t noticed, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off, Asahi touches his head and his hand comes away red. He stares at his fingertips, dizzy, and finally sinks to his knees. Noya scrambles off of the man and barrels right into Asahi, straddling his waist to lean over and inspect Asahi’s head. Outside, sirens wail as their backup arrives, and Asahi sighs, relieved that the little girl had found somewhere safe. The officers come flooding in. Asahi feels like hell, but he’s more worried about making sure everything gets taken care of, so he directs them to the woman hiding, and then to the unconscious robber on the ground. It’s over.

Reaching out to touch Noya’s face, Asahi feels like sobbing. “I’m okay,” he rasps out, “I’m okay. You got shot, though, didn’t you? You shouldn’t do reckless things with a wound like that.”

Noya scrambles back off of him and out of Asahi’s reach before the detective can inspect his previously injured shoulder. He takes a little step aside, gaze averted, frown fixed on his features. Asahi’s eyes follow him as he moves away a little.

“Noya?” He frowns, moving to stand.

One of the officers shouts. Asahi’s attention catches on the shout and his gaze follows, catching sight of the previously unconscious man thrashing on the ground. He’s on his stomach facing Asahi, and one of the officers is straddling his back to cuff him. It’s his expression that catches Asahi’s notice, the sheer rage, face twisted up in hatred. His eyes glitter furiously, lips pulled back to bare his teeth in a snarl.

“You’re supposed to be dead!” He shouts. “You both died! I know I killed you, so why the fuck are you still alive?!”

Asahi’s heart falters in his chest. His head hurts. God, it hurts.

“I robbed you months ago! I shot that boy to death! You were dead! You’re supposed to be dead!”

He keeps shouting it. Asahi is cold to the bone, dropped into an endlessly deep pile of fresh snow with no way out. All he sees is the man’s face, and all he hears is dead and his head hurts so much. He’s supposed to be dead? He’s alive, though. He’s alive, but he doesn’t have memories, and he’s supposed to be dead. What boy had he meant? Noya? Did that mean Asahi had known him before after all? Had they both lost their memories?

Something is screaming in the back of his mind to come out. Asahi clutches his head in his hands, feeling panic swell heavily in his throat, suffocating him. His vision is dark at the edges and the gun is on the floor beside him, just within his gaze.

“Asahi,” Noya croaks behind him, voice soft and pained.

Asahi, it echoes and echoes and echoes, and all at once, everything slams back down. He remembers, and he doesn’t know how he could ever forget. The wedding band burns against the hollow of his throat like a brand. He watches, dumbstruck and breathless, as the robber is hauled out. He remembers who he is. He remembers who Noya is.

“Yuu,” he gasps, whirling around.

But the other man is gone.

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

Asahi hates the smell of hospitals.

The nurse tells him he’s fine to leave, but he needs to come back for another check-up in a week to make sure there isn’t further head or brain damage. The doctors know his memory has returned, so they’re hopeful, but Asahi can’t share their joy. He goes home, empty-handed and desolate. He’s thinking about everything, about Yuu, about the wedding band around his throat. He doesn’t know where the other man had vanished to this time, but he hopes he’d at least had the sense to get medical attention.

And a week goes by.

In the seven days that Nishinoya Yuu is gone, Asahi dreams.

In his dreams, Asahi dies slowly.

His body is a mass of static and there is nothing but pain and pain and more pain. He’s vaguely aware of someone, somewhere, calling his name. Asahi, they’re saying, Asahi, please wake up.

Except this time, he doesn’t. This time, the pieces reconnect themselves. He is not the one in pain, nor is he the one being called out to. In his dreams, Asahi comes home to their shared home and finds Yuu on the floor, riddled with gunshot wounds and already bleeding out. In his dreams, Yuu is unconscious, and Asahi is sobbing, his voice cracking as he tries desperately to call the police.

“Yuu,” he’s begging, “Yuu, please wake up.”

In his dreams, Azumane Asahi does not make it home in time to stop his husband from fighting a robber. Azumane Yuu had fought alone and lost, and by the time Asahi had gotten back, he’d already been half-dead. Asahi hunches over him, pleading with any god that might listen.

He doesn’t know when he got up, only that he’s standing. He doesn’t know when the man appeared around the corner, only that he’s surprised by his appearance, and when they fight, Asahi does not win. He sees the table come into his line of vision.

There’s pain, and then there’s nothing.

Asahi wakes slowly from the darkness as the pieces slide together in his mind. Suddenly, everything makes sense. He hadn’t given the theory any thought before; it’d simply been the most unbelievable thing, but now he’s sure. It all makes too much sense. The name, the vanishing acts, the same outfit all the time, the strange looks Asahi would get when he would bring Yuu up with others, the missing bullet wound in his shoulder.

Yuu is already dead.

Asahi thinks the cold chill of resignation is the hardest part.

When he sits up, Yuu is sitting on the end of his bed. Asahi can see the door through his blood-stained shirt. The sight makes his heart ache anew. How cruel, he thinks, to make him fall in love with this man all over again, only to lose him once more. Had he really ever had Yuu to begin with?

Yuu looks like he had the last night Asahi had seen him as Azumane Yuu, and not Noya. His face is pale and hollow, golden eyes set into his features, a shade duller than Asahi is used to seeing them. His shirt, previously white, is riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood. Asahi is scared to even breathe for the fear of Yuu leaving once and for all.

Yuu doesn’t look at him when he speaks.

“I’m dead.” It’s not a question. Yuu knows this is a fact. “Right?”

“I’m sorry,” Asahi chokes out.

It isn’t enough. This isn’t enough. He has so much more he wants to say to Yuu. He wants to tell him how sorry he is. He wants to tell him that it should have been Asahi who’d died that day. Yuu had so much to live for, and Asahi barely knows how to live for himself. He wants to tell him how much he loves him, how they were supposed to have a whole life ahead of them. Their adventure had only just begun and it had been torn out from beneath them before they could take the first step.

Asahi chokes on his breath. It isn’t fair. It still isn’t fair.

He wants to say, please, don’t leave me again.

Yuu’s form flickers. Asahi covers his mouth to stifle the sob there. Yuu is in front of him now, gaze soft with acceptance. Even in death, he is the stronger of the two of them. Even now, his unwavering dependability makes Asahi feel safe.

“Asahi,” he says, ghostly fingers brushing past the strands of hair by Asahi’s ears, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Asahi manages. “Why are you sorry? Yuu, I’m the one who should be apologizing. If I hadn’t gotten held up that day-”

“Then you would have died too.” Noya cuts him off.

Yuu stares him down, golden eyes piercing, and Asahi falters beneath that gaze.

“Asahi, I’m saying sorry because I promised you forever, but I have to go now. I love you so much, you stupid crybaby. I love you more than anything, and even if we were reborn, I’d find you again in ten thousand lifetimes. It’s always going to be you. You’re the kindest, bravest person I’ve ever known, and I’d do everything the same if it meant I had the chance to love you.” Asahi feels like he’s suffocating in his own words. He wants to grab Yuu and hold him close, but his hands pass right through the other man’s shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do without you,” he sobs, “Yuu, I don’t want to go without you. I don’t know how to socialize properly, and nobody else reminds me to take my meds. I can’t ground myself alone when I have an anxiety attack, and you always know what to say when I have a nightmare. I’m not brave. I let people walk over me when you aren’t there to tell them to lay off. You can’t leave because I don’t know what to do without you. I’m brave when you’re around because you make me feel like I can be.”

Yuu laughs. It’s a strangled half sob.

“Someone as cool as you shouldn’t be such a crybaby. You’re your own person, Asahi. You don’t need me or anyone else, even if you think you do. I’m not the one who makes you brave. You do that. And I need you to be extra brave for me now, okay?” His smile wobbles as he reaches out, hand hovering over Asahi’s cheek. “I need you to be brave enough to live the rest of your life, even if I’m not there to live it with you. I wish I could stay and make you as happy as you made me. I wish we could travel the world and have kids and grow old together. But I’ll always be with you.” And this time, when he reaches to touch Asahi, his palm settles over the ring strung around Asahi’s neck and stays there. The point of contact is warm, pulsing out into Asahi’s chest. He feels like he can breathe again. Asahi is so tired of being scared.

He manages a shaky laugh. “You still have my jacket.” Yuu smiles, something soft that touches the edges of his eyes. “Yeah,” he huffs, “sorry about that.” Asahi covers the hand Yuu has over his chest with his own. “Yuu,” he says, “I love you. I love you so much and I always have, and I’m sorry I never said that enough. I’m sorry that we couldn’t have the life we deserved. But I’ll keep living for you, as long as you promise to wait for me. Find me again in the next life, and the one after that, and the one after that. Please let me fall in love with you again.” A single tear slides down Yuu’s face.

“Always,” he says.

Asahi does not get his coat back, but he feels it like a pit of warmth in his chest when Yuu is gone. He sinks slowly forward, gathering the blanket up in his arms and pressing it to his face in a futile attempt to gather the last bits of Yuu’s presence from the fabric. But he’s gone, and Asahi is alone again, with nothing but the ghost of his memory and a promise. His room is empty and the pit of warmth in his chest is a sorry excuse for Yuu’s presence. He’s alone for now, but he’s going to be brave, and he’s going to find Yuu again in the next life. He may not have him now, but he’s never going to let him go again. He has that.

His fingers close slowly over the ring dangling from his neck, pressing the memories there deep into his chest where they’ll make a home.

(And this, at least.)

#asanoya #azumane asahi #nishinoya yuu #haikyuu #major character death #unreliable narrator #marimo writes #haikyuu!!#marimo give asahi a break challenge

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metslimprorevie · 4 years ago

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icosmohunters · 5 years ago

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chapter eleven : easter sunday

chapter eleven of cosmo hunters!

word count : 8.3k words

synopsis : easter is perhaps the best holiday to go back home to. after having come back to new orleans, hope has begun to familiarize herself with the town she neglected returning to for so long. a breakaway from exploration, and a time for bonding.

for a while, she was accustomed to waking up to a low hum of her ship. at times she would hear the miniature drips from the tap in the bathroom, or the radiators turning on upon sensing her stir or awake in the middle of the night. artificial sounds for a person who lived on a spaceship.

in the time where she had been far from home, she had lost her connection from the ambient sounds that was ensued from a fresh morning. the birds singing, the rattling of pans in the kitchen, the chatter from the road outside her window, the faint jazz that could be heard from next door.

hope left new orleans nearly a year ago and hasn’t come back, so it was strange to awake to something that wasn’t her alarm clock. it was more like a weight pressing against her sides, not one to bother but one to be aware of. this bit of weight also had some soft hair brushing against the side of her face.

it took her some blinks to adjust. being bathed in sunlight at the sight of your old bedroom growing up was a sensation that not many can describe. not a thing had been touched, relics of a young hope who had unfortunately grown up from her band phases and her obsession with plushies, and who had now developed into a particularly cold woman.

this cold woman, though, was able to stir on her side and bring her brother’s sleeping figure closer, seeing that some of the bedsheets had slipped from his body. upon adjusting it over him, she saw his sleeping face soften and his breathing deepen, he was fast asleep.

from what she had heard, he had the same problem with sleeping that she did. the inability to relax and let go of the events you went through that day, the fight to let the night became your ally and something to rely on when your body needed the rest it craved. instead, the night became more of a sour friend, one which you would greet through your waking moments and continue to bathe in until the sun entered.

it was surprising, to say the least. she never thought insomnia could affect people on such a large scale, especially for a kid his age. but the absence of fun and lively activities that tired him supposedly made him more active and it was harder to put him to bed. he was going to turn eleven in may and yet he had a sleep disorder that should’ve affected him in the later years of his teenagehood.

he’s been through a lot, she thought to herself, brushing her fingers against every delicate detail on his face. connor had been robbed of his childhood because of this sudden illness that took hold of him, and there wasn’t a fiber in his sister’s body that didn’t want to get rid of it. but it required time and a lot of money. money might not be an issue, it was just time. time which hope may not have. because time was the catalyst for the paralyzation.

fighting through an early frown, hope allowed this embrace to linger for just a little longer, to provide the kid the warmth she had failed to give him during the time he needed her the most. hope felt awful for having left him, and she wanted to do anything to make up for it.

but to think that she’s going to be gone even after all of this is over . . . again.

sighing, hope looked down to her bed and saw something soft peeking through the sheets. she knew it was soft the moment she saw the dent and felt her feet brush against something composed of fluff. reaching from within the bedsheets, she grasped and fished out something that had her smiling from ear to ear.

it was harold, the duckie. he had been quite a big part of hope’s childhood. after winning him at a funfair, he was the equivalent of a best friend when the girl found herself unpopular in the early stages of elementary school. when people wouldn’t be her friend, harold was there to give her a cuddle when she felt loneliest.

he had quite a big head and two pink spots on his cheeks, suggesting a timid and embarrassing set of blushes. the outfit hope had picked for him was a t-shirt housing the name of her favorite football team, the new orleans saints. very patriotic but she loved being from this tropical town in the south.

aside from the aging smell of fabric, nothing on this yellow friend had changed. he remained still as adorably angry and fluffy as usual, and she knew mostly it was because of connor’s soft touch when it came to toys, he treated them with care. especially harold.

the young woman could almost imagine how he ended up here when he was supposed to be on the shelves with all the other plushies. connor had most likely reached to them and brought it with him when he determined to tuck in beside his sister.

setting her yellow friend to the side, hope turned back to connor whose lashes were batting and eyes flickered between the border of being awake and remaining in his blissful dreams. but as heartbreaking as it was to wake him up when he needed sleep the most, she found that she had to.

“ wake up, tyke. ”

he stirred slightly, and then the stygian pair of eyes soon looked back towards her, eyes which resembled hers in almost every way. they housed a brightness that can only be seen in that of children. the innocence remained in his soul, perhaps justifying his purity and goodness and inability to do bad things even though he might be tempted.

there was a cluster of stars in the eyes of this child and hope never wished them to burn out, as all stars do. she knew this constellation would be eternal.

connor soon smiled and rubbed his pure eyes with his hands that had balled into fists and then loosened to pat around in search of something. she then placed harold back into his grasp and offered the boy a meek smile. “ i wanted to make sure he wasn’t lonely ”, he uttered in perhaps the softest voice she had heard yet.

hope rose on her elbow and allowed her cheek to lean against the open palm of her hand. “ does he get lonely when i’m not around? ”, she asked delicately and connor nodded. “ i can’t blame him, we were really good friends growing up. ”

suddenly, the mellowness in connor’s face was contorted with an expression hope never wanted to see again, and it was that of some sort of puzzlement intertwined with deep sadness, something a kid should never feel at this early stage. sadness was a universal feeling, and no one deserved it no matter how natural it was.

“ i think he’s going to be my only friend ”, connor croaked and then held harold to his chest, squeezing him so tightly it felt like he was throwing all of his strength onto a plushie, the type of embrace you’d see a kid giving a reliable adult. yet he remained so innocent. “ s-some kids at school don’t like to sit with me. they don’t play with me because my wheelchair gets in the way. ”

hope had to lower her head for a while. this was exactly what she feared. the prejudice that people show can easily be mistaken by something else in the naive mind of a child, they’re too young to learn about the problems of the world, they shouldn’t have to be exposed to any sort of maltreatment at this age.

especially if it was a personal experience. she couldn’t even begin to imagine the face of her younger brother drop as he watches the kids outside being able to swing from monkey bars and squeal down a slide or dance through hopscotch. he was different. and he was labeled as different because no one was willing to make him feel like he could be like everyone else.

and that’s what she hated, what made her blood boil, what made her want to grab a fucker by the throat and slam them against the wall before asking, ‘he’s a kid, why do you make him feel as if he deserves this?!’. because he didn’t. he didn’t deserve any of it. he didn’t ask for the illness and he most certainly didn’t ask to be treated like an alien when the sickness already took half of his childhood away.

instead of making him feel like he’s worthy of some sort of happiness, regardless of what it takes the form of, they choose to humiliate him and make him feel separate from everyone else. a kid should never feel like they have to separate themselves from people, that people don’t want to be near them. kids like connor had to feel like they were capable of imprinting the world with color instead of staining it with hatred.

hope might have not been there for him during these times, she knew of her absence and how it might have hurt her darling brother. it was why she pulled him into her arms and allowed his body to relax once more against hers. it was why she tried to give time for him now, to utter some words that might hopefully stick with him.

“ ever heard of universal kindness? ”, she inquired and felt the gentle head shake against her neck. “ it’s being able to be good and kind to everyone no matter what they say or do. some people aren’t universally kind, connor. but you are. you’re the kindest kid i’ve ever met and i’m so . . .”. she had to pause as to avoid getting emotional.

“ i-i’m beyond proud, i’m more than proud of you for that. so even when people aren’t kind to you, never let it be a reason for you to give up on people. always try to be people’s friends because one day, there is going to be that one person who will play with you and like you even if you’re in a wheelchair. ”

her fingers now brushed through his jet black locks and tickled behind his ear, he seemed to have relaxed once more. and upon taking a glance down, she noticed that beam return to his face and that’s what gave her the strength to return it, giving him a light squeeze in her arms.

i may be the most flawed individual in this world but there is nothing i wouldn’t do for my baby brother or my family, she thought.

it was difficult to get out of bed, especially with the cuddle he was giving her but the moment she heard the rattling of pans grow louder and the smell of pancakes with apples and cinnamon, her stomach roared and she was soon making her bed and getting ready for the day.

connor had managed to get back on his wheelchair and went to immediately see his mother whilst hope chose her outfit for the day and then opted to shower first before anything else. except, of course, someone was already in the shower and she had to wait.

once the door opened, she leaned off from the wall and spotted dom. his hair seemed to have been washed as it appeared wet and he looked refreshed, some tinted pinkness in his cheeks from the shower but it wasn’t natural enough to disguise the bruise.

she glanced at him for a moment when he took notice of her and gave out a grumbled good morning. her lips quivered but she chose to speak, “ what are you using to make it heal quicker? ”.

he stopped slightly and turned to look at her, fixing a cold gaze onto her figure. she gulped and continued. “ the bruise. it might heal quicker if you use something on it rather than covering it up with make-up. i-i can ask my mom to make somet— ”.

“ —is the guilt starting to settle in, captain? ”.

her cheeks now burned.

perhaps she did feel a slap of guilt across the face every time she saw it, it wasn’t a nice sight and it wasn’t nice at all to know that she was behind it. having received a similar injury before, she could tell it hurt. but what angered her the most was why she had done it in the first place.

thinking back on it now, it was rather childish. but then again, he had struck a nerve he shouldn’t have. it was difficult to tell exactly who was at fault, but hope knew she had done it regardless and she didn’t want to be reminded of it every time she saw the purple mark just below his eye.

“ y-yes, it is ”, she managed to say. but then didn’t linger long enough to see his reaction. she found that she was growing vulnerable around these people, allowing her weaknesses to be seen. she’s never been bashful near anyone, yet here she was.

hope entered the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind her, before letting out a sigh of relief.

it was a good ten minutes inside that bathroom, taking care of herself and allowing just a few moments to relax, she can’t easily lay back and enjoy a tender moment with her family like some people. hence why when she came home, it was always counted as a special occasion.

rarely getting in touch with her feminine side, hope decided that a summer dress would do underneath a denim jacket. this was mostly how she dressed at home, her mother would often wear clothes that made her look ten years younger. it was a trend in the everhart house to never get old.

“ there she is! ”.

hope smiled sweetly at her mother upon entering the kitchen. the pancakes she made every easter had remained a tradition since before hope was even born, so it was no wonder her dad was up early and so was connor, eating and chatting away at the table.

peering into the living room, she spotted vivienne braiding dawn’s hair for the day, though she didn’t see enzo nor quinn. it was weird, enzo had completely disappeared last night and supposedly he came back when most were still asleep.

vivienne, looking up, saw the puzzled expression on the captain’s face. “ he’s still in bed, i suppose he got some severe jet-lag and crashed after a trip to the bar last night ”, she voiced.

“ he went to the bar? ”, hope repeated.

“ yes, with dominic. ”

sighing, hope wandered to where he was staying. he had crashed in connor’s room, and she could tell this because she saw his bag as soon as she pushed the door open. and there enzo was, still tucked away in bed, bare arms exposed to the fresh exhales of the wind entering through the open windows.

so he had gone out for a drink. she didn’t know much about the guy’s background nor if he was accustomed to earth, but most people tended to go to bars for a breakaway from the hectic lives they lead. a pirate must lead a hectic lifestyle, even if it consists mainly of stealing and running from authorities.

just how exhausted was he? hope walked over and let a passing gaze over his sleeping face before leaning down slightly and shaking him by the arm, he grunted and soon his eyes flew open. “ morning, cap. breakfast is served ”, she mumbled and allowed him to slowly sit up.

“ uh . . . w-what time is it? ”, enzo asked through a yawn.

“ nine o’clock. we mostly sleep in during easter but mom has some nice things planned for all of us ”, she replied. his eyes lingered around the simple bedroom belonging to her brother before resting on her. “ you should really get ready and dressed, it’ll be fun. and i’ll ask dad to whip you up a shake for the hangover. ”

“ what will it consist of? ”.

“ well, bananas, blueberries, watermelon . . . maybe some eggs if you decide you’re going to take an eternity— ”.

“ —i’m up. ”

back in the kitchen, hope was able to sit down with a plate of those magical pancakes along with a glass of apple juice. and for the first time in a while, she took her tea having her meal rather than rushing it and not savoring the flavor, a flavor she’s missed for so long.

whilst eating, she listened in on the plans for the day. there was an easter egg hunting competition a couple of roads down and connor was looking forward to going. after that, it was a lovely evening at a jazz restaurant and when the sun had set, a boat ride in the bayou at night. three things that were going to occupy her day and she was looking forward to it.

every time she went home, it was like a moment of healing. being among her family members and catching up with the things she missed and providing the affection she kept to herself, it was all a healing experience. it was like being among nature, being where you feel safe.

before they could leave, though, hope decided she needed to do something to thank her mother for the day she had planned ahead for everyone. she was always a woman who gave to others and then never took anything back, never asked for anything back. truly humbled, truly kind. it was no wonder connor was the kind boy he was.

so in order to recompensate for the things had been given to her, provided to her by the mother she had, she decided that some flowers would suffice as a semblance of gratitude. she took her purse and was out the door in a few minutes, her converse tapping against the sidewalk.

immediately, she was greeted by the sun beaming down on her, and it was refreshing, to say the least, after having not felt it properly in a while. it was like a welcoming but ghostly embrace from an old friend.

there was a flower shop stationed not too far from where they had eaten yesterday, a five-minute walk from her house if she hurried. and she did, she didn’t want to miss the easter egg hunt.

soon, she saw it, the flower shop named honeycomb. it was a family business that has been in the town for nearly fifty years, it was there even before her parents were born. and within, she saw a figure walking among the flowers. hope entered through the veranda and past the first few gardenias and poppies and towards this figure.

it was rare to see her in these instances, she would often be away at university and hardly came back to celebrate holidays that weren’t christmas or thanksgiving. but it was good to see her, regardless.

many people thought hope and this girl were perhaps siblings as they shared similar appearances, but their personalities were almost total opposites. hope was cold, and she was warm. hope was sour, and she was sweet. it was in her name.

honey lee.

the girl was hope’s age, if not a year younger. and she could easily be classified as a girl anyone dreams of having at your side, whether it be as a friend or as a lover. not only did she harness that docile aura that you can get lost in, but she also held the personality that made her remarkable. a personality hope sometimes envied, but honey was an advocate for self-love so that doesn’t last very long.

hair curled and rich in brown, honey turned upon sensing the presence beside her and widened her bright, green eyes. “ hope!”, she gasped and welcomed her into a tender hug, hope smiled and squeezed the girl gently in her arms. “ oh my god, it’s so good to see you! i didn’t know you were coming back. ”

“ yeah, well neither did i ”, hope mumbled and pulled back for a moment but didn’t part from the hug, it was too much of a good hug to part from. “ you got a perm, i’m loving the hair. are you working today? ”.

honey nodded softly, “ but only for the morning. dad’s hoping to have a barbeque after the sunday service but we might not go. it all depends on how he’s feeling. god, you look so pretty. ” hope grinned. “ so, what are you looking for? ”.

keeping an arm around the girl’s waist, hope hummed. “ mom’s been doing quite a lot for me lately. she’s got the entire day planned and i wanted to get her some flowers as a form of gratitude ”, she explained. “ care to lend me some flower power? ”.

“ flower power? i’ll give you some. ”

honey was a magician when it came to flowers, knowledgable in almost every sense of the word and she knew how to bring a bouquet together to summon a message, whatever the message was, whether it was of gratitude or a love confession or an apology.

what she had wrapped for hope was a mixture of pink roses with sweat peas and the fragrance that erupted from it caused her nose to tickle slightly and her eyes to water but it was a beautiful mixture of colors nonetheless. it was hard to convince honey to be paid for the service, she often led the assumption that she had to do things for the sake of charity on special days.

but just today, hope wanted to be a normal customer. and one that pays. so whilst leaving the shop and saying goodbye to the girl, she shifted to shove the money into her pockets and bolted when she yelled and asked her to come back.

“ hope! ”.

“ happy easter, honey! ”.

the venue for the egg hunting game was not too far from her, though she had to hurry as to avoid being late, passing by hortense’s house and grinning from ear to ear whilst racing through the market. it was held at an open field nearby the playground by connor’s school, he hadn’t stopped talking about it the night before.

by the time she got there, some families were already present and hope struggled to spot her or any of the pirates until she saw dawn hopping on her feet eagerly, she seemed quite lively today like she had cracked out of her shell. and new orleans does that to a person, it served as a catalyst for breaking out of any bounds holding you back from having a good time.

“ there she is ”, she heard her mother’s gentle voice calling and then heard it gasp when the flowers came into view. “ oh my god, who are you proposing to? ”.

hope laughed and pretended to offer it to vivienne, who caught onto the act and put on an exaggerated gasp whilst preparing to accept it before hope swiveled towards her mother and placed the bouquet into her arms. “ it’s for you. you helped plan this entire day out, it’s only nice that i offer something in return ”, the girl exclaimed.

“ oh, honey! ”.

“ she helped me pick it, actually. ”

it was difficult to be complemented with the tender pet name when you knew someone who’s legal name was just that. but she accepted the pleasant hug her mother gave her and looked about to see connor who was already taking part in the hunt. it was obvious he was being a little slow, and hope decided she could help him to pick up the pace.

there was an area for the parents with some beverages and snacks, but hope neglected it and chose to help her brother out. she picked her own basket and smiled fondly when connor spotted her, “ i only managed to pick three. ”

“ three? well, i’ll help you find some more. we can work as a team ”, she proposed. and it was indeed enjoyable. it wasn’t like hunting for convicted criminals who were wanted for bloody massacres and stealing millions but it was most definitely pleasant, distracting her from any thoughts that may have previously dared to bother her.

it was time to swift her mind into something domestic, she realized. it was good to focus on your work but it was even better to focus on the things that might matter slightly more, like your family.

there were eggs scattered all around and hope was able to search through bushes and look behind tables and under chairs and between tree branches in search of some, and gradually her basket began to grow heavier. she would put some eggs into connor’s basket so he wasn’t completely hopeless but he was managing it quite well himself.

she recalled climbing up a tree trunk and latching her fingers onto a branch to get the small nest of colored eggs and then hearing giggles from below, only to realize that some cheeky little children had tried to run off with her basket but thank goodness, her dad came to the rescue, tempting them with a little game of tag that easily distracted them, and hope then recovered her basket.

it was a ten-minute hunt for chocolate eggs but it felt like something more special, something that would be imprinted in the back of her mind as a pleasant memory that isn’t to be forgotten. especially after seeing connor’s face when she dumped the eggs into his basket, he gasped and just threw his arms around her waist.

his happiness was all that mattered to hope.

after ten minutes, a whistle was blown and the kids were told to stop chasing and to come to take a break. the eggs they got would be taken home and eaten, but many of the adults told them to share rather than hog all the chocolates for themselves.

connor hovered over with his basket on his lap, hope accompanied him not too far behind. “ i don’t think i’m going to be able to eat this all myself so you guys can have it as well! ”, he said and held the basket over to his parents and then to the pirates.

enzo cooed, “ this kid’s got some manners. i never shared when i was younger. ”

“ it explains a lot of things now ”, dom uttered, chuckling at the small rude he heard in response.

but even if they huddled around and tried to open their chocolate eggs, hope’s mother swept in quickly and told them to save it for later. because now it was time for lunch, and their table had already been reserved at another restaurant that was just as good as the one from yesterday.

of course, knowing her father’s tastes, it was a jazz bar. there wasn’t anything like in the places she’s visited outside of her hometown, not even some places in the colonies that basically carried entire chunks of culture to outer space. but perhaps that was the charm of it. sometimes things were just better off where they originated from.

on the walk there, hope had opened up some chocolate eggs, and offered it to the person walking not too far away from her, dom. he glanced at it and then took the piece, snapping it in half and savoring it. “ how are you finding it here? ”, she asked. having never had a proper conversation with dom, this was like a breath of fresh air. perhaps a fresh start. unless if he wasn’t willing to let what happened to go.

“ good. artistic and colorful, not what i’m used to but it’s better than the same old bottom end of the top bunk and enzo snoring the night away ”, he replied, a hand tucked into his pocket. hope chuckled and shook her head gently. “ you look happier, though. smiling more, talking more. i suppose being at home restores your energy. ”

for a moment, it felt like he understood her. she paid him a small, meek smile and then nodded. “ it gets lonely on the ship. having no one to talk to, no one to drink with or have dinner with. it’s quiet, sometimes too quiet. and i only realize that after i leave new orleans. it’s a hub of sound and people, i miss it a lot when i leave ”, she said. “ plus, my family is like . . . my safe haven. ”

“ i see ”, dom uttered and grew quiet for a moment, but it wasn’t awkward. often it feels better to talk to someone rather than allowing the same tense air to drift between you that just damages the chance of getting along. “ hope, t-that guy from the restaurant yesterda— ”.

“ —malakai. ”

“ is that his name? ”.

“ want to introduce yourself now? ”.

it seemed to take dom a moment to realize that the said male was just across the street the moment they arrived at the restaurant. there was a small queue to be seated and hope realized she would be in plain view of the tan and gorgeous male. and for some reason, she didn’t want to be.

because it took her a while yesterday to figure it out, that being with malakai whilst the pirates were around was exceptionally dangerous. he had a keen eye, he was one to question and expect answers, he wasn’t passive like hiro who just let things be. he challenged and became suspicious, it was why he was in the communications branch.

and exposing the pirates to his dangerous pair of eyes could be . . . damaging. for hope and for the pirates, especially when he figures out that they most certainly didn’t work for voyage.

he met eyes with the bounty hunter and beamed from across the street before taking off to meet her. her gaze went to dom who turned slightly to face the male, whilst also taking a small step to stand just barely in front of hope. she blinked and then saw malakai approach. “ happy easter, hope! ”, he cheered and looked towards dom. “ and who’s this? ”.

“ t-this is, uh— ”.

“ a friend. nice to meet you. ”

dom even went in for the assertive handshake, but hope never saw malakai’s smile falter, he grinned and accepted it. “ hi, friend. i suppose you’re both out to enjoy the celebration ”, he said and hope nodded softly. “ well, that’s great, so am i. uh, hope, do you want to meet up later? ”.

“ w-well— ”.

dom stepped in, “ she’s kinda busy the whole day, can’t you drop in a text message or an email, to be more professional? ”. she really felt like her jaw was on the floor, he was so cold! “ i mean, you’re workmates, aren’t you? you’d think that if it’s business talk, it should be classified and formal. ”

malakai’s expression froze slightly. but hope could almost see the gears in his mind struggling, grinding against each other. he wasn’t accustomed to people like dom who so easily assert, well, dominance. this was the first time hope has witnessed it herself, and she was rather impressed.

perhaps he understood the danger as well, dom never missed a single detail. he seemed like the type to always be careful, always take precautions. that’s why maybe he’s hesitant in diving into things head first like the mission with the puppeteer. hope looked over at quinn slightly and frowned.

“ i suppose you’ve made yourself some pretty formal friends, hope ”, malakai uttered and the girl, once again, replied with a very meek smile. it’s what she often turns to when finding herself speechless in front of this particular boy. “ but you’re right. i will send you an email instead. or, perhaps see you later tonight? ”.

she saw dom was going to butt in almost immediately through the way his lips opened but she quickly pressed a hand to his arm and leaned towards malakai, “ we can talk tomorrow. i’ll still be here before we leave. we have an important task to complete. ”

“ oh. ”

malakai, with his hands tucked behind his back, then took a step behind him. “ well, i suppose i should get going, i don’t want to get in the way of your evening. so . . . hope, friend . . . ”. dom nodded coldly. “ i’ll see you soon. ”

it was weird, seeing him walking away with an expression that wasn’t a smile. she always saw him as an easy-going person, someone you could easily talk to but aspects of his persona often disturbed hope in ways that can’t simply be explained. there was something that kept him from being totally trustworthy, and perhaps it was the fact that he was a colleague, someone who shouldn’t know of her interactions with people she’s supposed to be putting in jail.

looking at dom, his gaze never wavered from malakai until he was completely out of sight, she even shook him gently. “ you can look away now ”, she uttered.

“ hope ”, he started. “ i know we got off on the wrong foot and that you may want to hear this from anyone else but me. but if this guy tries anything, tries to say or do something, don’t be surprised. because something’s wrong with him. ” he looked down at her. “ keep your eye on him. ”

“ i-i will! ”.

it was tense but the moment was gone just as quickly as it had started, and soon they were within the walls of the restaurant. safe, hope thought. at least there was a sense of privacy and safety now that she had sat into a large group.

now, the lunch lasted way longer than a normal meal. and it was mostly because of the dozen conversations going on around the table, with her dad striking a debate with vivienne on the morals that had been established on venus and hope’s mother asking dawn what she likes to cook. on the side, quinn and dom seemed to be discussing the food and enzo and connor spoke about comic books.

they had all ordered butternut squash soup with some fresh bread and all shared some wine with connor having the occasional sips of apple juice. it took a while for hope to be involved in a conversation, she often listened in but never spoke to anyone until her dad started asking her about work.

“ they sent you to get him alone?! ”.

needless to say, he was on the verge of being furious when he found out about what happened with the puppeteer. he already knew the injury quinn had was caused by a mission but his face contorted with rage upon knowing it was caused because of the master of puppets.

hope smiled bitterly, swirling the white wine in her glass. “ i transferred the mission to someone else, asking voyage to recommend going in large teams to avoid any accidents ”, she uttered and her dad grunted, rolling his eyes. “ but we’re okay, dad. quinn’s healing better after mom’s food. ”

“ yeah, well, that’s bianca’s magic. she heals with food. as her mother did and her mother’s mother. it’s tradition, it’s a magical tradition but it’s just foods cooked with a lot of love ”, he exclaimed and smiled softly. “ when i, uh, lost my arm . . . your mother never stopped a single day when it came to making meals. she thought that the reason i wasn’t healing was because i wasn’t letting my mind to be healed. ”

hope pursed her lips, “ is that true? ”.

he seemed to struggle to find the right words for a moment, but his attempts weren’t clouded behind the smooth keys of the piano from the stage. “ i-i think i became convinced that my life wasn’t going to be the same. but i forgot that people were going to be there for me regardless, to help me settle with a new rhythm ”, her dad spoke and nodded. “ but i’m better now, much better. better than before. ”

hope smiled. he had the same problem as her. when he was working, he hardly ever came into contact and hardly visited his family and you could almost tell he was a different person when he returned during the holidays. but upon spending an evening with his family, he would mellow out.

the sourness turned to sweetness the moment he stepped him, and that was what hope experienced every single time she came home, it was what she was experiencing now. would she go back to the grump she was before after leaving? she didn’t want to, she really didn’t want to.

because looking at it now, she liked this version of herself a lot more. especially whilst looking at the pirates and seeing that they were happy, or at least in a better place where perhaps they were free to be themselves. a break from reality, from running away.

looking at them, hope found herself smiling. they were good people, she realized, people who made her life a little bit more bearable when she was on the ship. she knew how complicated she could be, but she found that she wanted to better herself for them. because even if she would be taking them home soon, she didn’t want to be remembered as someone who could be easily forgotten due to the bad memories she brought them.

she just needed to let her mind heal, and maybe then she could improve on herself, and never have to worry about the pain of saying goodbye to them. but would it be hard? perhaps. yet it was only a matter of doing the right thing and hoping they would accept her.

they were their own little family and that feeling of familiarity and warmth was always among them and she wanted to be a part of it, but then . . . would she be intruding? this was their family, not hers. even if they made her happy and earned a spot in her life, would it ever be vice-versa? was hope everhart just a symbol of hatred and sourness in the lives of these people?

hope held her breath at the thought and immediately forced her gaze down. even if she did try to change herself now, it wouldn’t change the things she said and did in the past and no apology would be able to suffice for the damage it did. so, perhaps this feeling she felt was only . . . one-sided.

an unrequited feeling of fondness towards a group of people who made her feel worthy of some sort of happiness. only to then realize they most likely didn’t feel the same way towards her.

after lunch, it was quiet, mostly because the people were starting to withdraw at sunset, to watch the news or prepare for afternoon tea, or maybe even a soccer game that was on. but this group was walking towards the bayou.

hope found that she was quieter this time around, not particularly reaching out to anyone. she walked alongside connor who was happily eating away at the easter eggs, occasionally asking him questions about school and whether he was reading the books she’d lent him.

the boat at the bayou had been rented just for them. it was a nice tour, and they made it just in time as the little critters of light came out from behind the trees, peeking shyly before commencing their flights.

“ what are they? ”.

“ fireflies. ”

upon climbing onto the boat, hope immediately sat down on the seat by the edge, wrapping her damp fingers against the cold railings and peeking over the edge. it was lovely, seeing some of the stars in the sky meeting their reflections on the water, and the fireflies dancing on the surface, illuminating all the lily pads and the lotus flowers in their path.

the engine of the boat roared to life and soon it was moving at a steady speed, not enough to be racing but not slow enough to be tedious. she took note of the radio playing some lighthearted nat king cole and immediately saw her mother and father meet halfway for a slow dance.

it was impossible not to watch. ever since she can remember, her parents have been passionately in love with one another and the flame has never once tempted to be burnt out. it burned and burned and only one glance at them could give away the years of mutual love and affection that they gave one another, from the way they held each other to the way they looked at each other.

hope smiled softly, tilting her head at the adoring scene and then looking out into the bayou, at the long hanging branches she could easily reach up to touch, at the bugs that circled around the fairy lights and the lamps scattered around the moving vehicle.

at moments like these, it seems like nature joins together in a state of harmony. one quick look at her parents and she saw they had finished dancing, and even received a little round of applause from the pirates, and from their two children.

hope felt a presence shift beside her and noticed it was enzo, who offered her a smile but didn’t say much whilst looking out into the illuminated bayou. it was quiet for a tender moment until his voice rose, not loud enough to cut through the silence but audible enough for her to hear.

“ you looked slightly sad at the end of the dinner ”, he noted and she rolled her eyes before shaking her head. “ and don’t dismiss people when they think something is wrong, hope. i’m not saying this because i’m trying to be annoying. i’m doing it because i care. ”

was he really scolding her? she couldn’t help but chuckle and hold her hand to her forehead, before letting her gaze fall to her lap.

she didn’t know where to start, “ when . . . i was a kid, i didn’t have many friends. people just didn’t like me for who i was, and i was the exact same person i am now, my personality was intact by the age of nine or so. ” she gestured slowly, not knowing where to continue. “ a-and that left an imprint in my life that just told me i was unwanted. that i was better off alone and away from people, because even if i tried to show my real person, they wouldn’t accept it. ”

enzo didn’t interrupt her once. “ a-and i think part of the reason why i didn’t allow myself to open up to you guys so easily was that i assumed you were going to be like every other person who entered my life that wasn’t my family. that you were going to dislike me immediately and not get to know me . . . ”, she hoped she wouldn’t start crying.

“ but now you guys are giving me a moment to show the real me, the real hope everhart who doesn’t hate people as much as she makes herself to hate. and in the midst of this vulnerability, i realize where i went wrong and how i want to make it up to you and be a better person, even if we’re not friends and . . . i don’t want to be remembered as the one who was angry and bitter all the time, the one who punched dominic and the one who exploded with rage at almost anything, i want to be remembered as who helped. or tried to help. ”

“ b-because, i don’t care if you’re pirates. it stopped being a concern a long time ago after i realize that you were good people. good people i would never think of comparing myself to and the reason why you’re so good is that you bring out the best in each other. a-and you ended up bringing the best in me. ”

hope felt her bottom lip quivering but she inhaled deeply and fought through it, “ and yet i feel like a total outsider, maybe because i haven’t known you for long but even though you treat me so well, i feel like i’m better off the person i was before because i can’t join the family. i-i can’t . . . quit voyage to become a pirate, i can’t do that. s-so even if i’m taking you guys home, everything is telling to keep you around for a little longer. because even if it’s artificial, i can feel like i changed because i was a part of something. even if i wasn’t. ”

sniffling, she blinked and looked at enzo before smiling, once again, meekly. “ so, to make a long story short, i suppose the reason i’m upset is that i know i’ll never be a part of what you have. b-but i guess the lessons i learned from being around all of you might be what i belong to instead ”, she explained briefly. “ s-so, uh . . . t-thank you, for listening. i’m sorry. ” she shook her head. “ j-just in general, i’m sorry. ”

everyone has a fear, and it ends up being spoken at some point. and the fear hope held to this day was the fear of being insignificant, being forgotten. she was used to being the one who left a bad imprint on people or leaving no semblance or memory at all, a ghostly figure passing through people’s lives who is easily over-looked.

and there hasn’t been a moment in her life where she felt like she has been special to people outside of her family at all. it was like she didn’t exist for other people, and perhaps it was because she was just a bad person in general. hope had convinced herself she was meaningless, and maybe it justified the creature of hatred and bitterness that she had become.

they had left a huge imprint on her life. but what did she leave? some insults and a smack on dom’s face.

the boat ride was quiet, and when they returned to the docks, hope was the first to hop off. often when discounting her feelings, she feels like isolating herself for just a while to gather her thoughts. she played with her bracelet and once again, walked alongside connor’s wheelchair.

he wasn’t talking, he seemed far too tired to do any of that. but he looked over and gave her a sugar-sweet smile, one which made her lean over and caress his hair gently.

when they got home, she entered her room and immediately changed after a quick shower. she didn’t really want dinner, even though it was her father’s special barbeque. tonight might be the last night she’s in new orleans for a while, but she wanted to isolate herself for just a moment. her mother came in briefly and left her a plate of hamburgers and a can of diet coke on her desk, but didn’t call out for hope. she knew her daughter was upset, but she gave her space.

hope laid in that bed, her door wide open and windows were drawn up to hear the laughter and the shrieks of happiness from the roof, the story-telling from her father and the poetic singing of louis armstrong.

she looked to the side and spotted her fluffy friend looking back at her, harold the duckie. she reached out and grasped him into her bare arms and clung to him, similar to how connor did earlier that morning. “ today was a busy day ”, she told him. “ we went easter egg hunting and had lunch and mama louisiana’s and then went on a boat ride . . . but i always felt like i was the sheep following blindly behind them. an outsider, y’know? yeah, you know. you’ve heard this all too many times. ”

she paused and then turned to lay on her back, her gaze going towards the ceiling. and it was littered with glow in the dark star stickers, something she had put up many years ago and they remained there. “ remember when i came crying to you one day after school? when it was my birthday and no one knew? when i told my teacher and she promised to sing happy birthday but she never did? and when she told everyone, they all just stared at me, asking why i didn’t bring cupcakes? a-and there was another girl in there who had the same birthday as me and she got everything? ”, she questioned, only gaining silence as a response.

“ i felt like i was invisible back then, harold. a-and i still feel like that sometimes. ”

silence.

“ i-is this friendship thing just . . . n-not meant for me? ”.

more silence.

“ d-do i not deserve just a slight bit of it? a tiny bit of it? a-am i that much of a bad person? ”.

silence.

hope chuckled bitterly, squeezing her eyes shut.

“ you know, if i asked anyone else the same thing, they would be as quiet as you are . . . k-kind of just makes me want to . . . g-give up. ”

#chapter 11 #space adventure #space pirates au #original writing #writing

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annabelleswife · 6 years ago

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Would It Be a Total Cliche If I Put on Asleep by the Smiths Right Now? - Seth x MC

Word Count: 2,672 Rating: SFW besides a very brief mention of a past intimate encounter that isn’t described in detail at all whatsoever Warning: mention of attempted sexual assault/sexual harassment Notes: Takes place right after Book 2, Chapter 6. I liked the scene in Chapter 7 okay. But I just couldn’t get the idea of MC going back to her old apartment for comfort out of my head. I haven’t written fic in years, so sorry for the clunky grammar. I’m only on Chapter 8 of Book 2 so please don’t tag with any spoilers, thanks!

It was quiet in his apartment now. Which wasn’t really true. Like, at all. Seth still had Gloria’s old records warbling from down the hall, the incessant slamming of brakes and cursing drivers from outside his window--oh, and how could he forget the helicopters flying overhead? Things weren’t quiet at all, not even in his professional life.

Still, his head craned towards Olivia’s door every single time he walked past it.

This was his place long before that sunshine girl from Iowa moved in. So why did the hallway feel so empty now? Really, it was pathetic. Not that pathetic wasn’t practically his everyday cologne, but honestly Seth needed to get a grip.

If he wanted to talk to her so bad, he could take his cellphone out of his pocket right now. Text her. Shit, call her even. That is 100% a thing he could be doing.

It’s not as if she moved to Antarctica. Olivia was still here. Just not here here.

(Which is where he imagined she’d pipe in with a, “hear hear,” with the dopiest grin on her face. Then he’d mockingly say something like, “sheesh, Iowa, don’t quit your day job,” and she’d tease back, “at least some of us have day jobs.” To which he’d respond by rattling off all of his side-hustle gigs prior to rewriting an actual honest-to-goodness Hollywood script, thank you very much, causing her to laugh so hard she snorted.)

Right. Back to the ‘not-moping’ bit.

Seth finally reached the roof. He somehow didn’t feel strangled by memories up here. Although, uh, he did occasionally get flashes of a particularly steamy sort, though that was neither here nor there. They were keeping it casual. No strings. No labels. No sending of text messages at 3 a.m. asking, “what are we,” in fear of accidentally pushing the other one away.

Toootally not a thing. At all. Nope. Nuh-uh. Definitely not going to break out into an off-key rendition of Hercules’ I Won’t Say I’m in Lo--

“Seth?”

His train of thought crashed in a fiery blaze killing thousands. He jumped a bit at the unexpected voice and found the source to be none other than the woman of the hour herself.

Olivia Flynn. Her windswept curls were pushed back over one of her bared shoulders, exposed by her off-kilter sweater.

Seth didn’t consider himself much of a magician, but how else was he to explain her sudden appearance here of all places other than to say that he must’ve willed her here with a spell?

(Bah. Coincidence, schmoincidence.)

“Huh, funny. Hadn’t realized there were any cows on this roof to be tipped,” he replied, making a big show of actually looking around the rooftop. They were blissfully alone. “That’d be the only reason you’d come back to a dump like this, right, Iowa?”

Olivia smiled. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. Immediately, he felt a drop in his stomach like he was on the world’s worst roller-coaster.

Seth gingerly took a step closer to her. “Uh, sorry. That joke wasn’t exactly researched. For all I know, Iowa’s not even cow country. Maybe you all tip pigs out there? Chickens?”

Translation: I can tell you’re not alright, but I don’t want to assume. Please throw me a lifeline here before I drown myself with worry. Also your hair smells really nice.

That last bit might’ve just been a translator’s note, actually.

She shook her head slightly. This made her curls tumble even further over her shoulder. “I--It’s fine.” Though her trembling bottom lip strongly begged to disagree with her statement.

He felt lost. Normally, Olivia was a straight shooter. She was almost too honest at times. So the fact that she was clamming up here made Seth worry that whatever happened must’ve been bad. Really, really bad. And, oh god, he didn’t know how to handle really, really bad. He was, at best, the guy you called on a ‘big oof’ kind of day.

Seth wanted to ask her what he should do. The irony was not lost on him.

“Hey, c’mon. It’s me.” He took another step towards her, close enough to feel her body heat without having to touch. “It’s just me.”

Just as he was about to work on figuring out how to ask if she was really okay, Olivia leaned on him. Well, more like fell on him. Her entire weight seemed to press down on his front like her knees suddenly gave out and this wretched sob landed somewhere in his neck. Instinctively, his arms came out to steady her. Which then morphed quickly into a full-fledged hug as she cried on his shoulder.

It was important for him to stay calm here. Logically, he knew that. But Seth’s heart was an entirely separate entity from his brain. His emotions flitted between all-consuming fear that something awful happened to Olivia that he wasn’t there to prevent and rapidly stoking rage that anything could have happened to Olivia in the first place.

He did his best to keep all that to himself though. Instead, he murmured consolations in her hair. “It’s alright,” and “I’m here,” etc.

Eventually, her sobs died down. His knuckles rubbed what he hoped to be a soothing pattern on her lower spine which seemed to help. Her breathing seemed more even now, at least.

“I’m sorry,” she finally broke the silence with.

“Don’t.” Seth disentangled himself from Olivia enough to tilt her face up to his. It physically pained him to see her red, puffy eyes. “Don’t you dare say that to me, alright? There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“But your shirt--”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Liv.” He’d repeat it a hundred times over if that’s what it took.

She looked down before giving the tiniest nod of acknowledgement.

They stood like that, locked in a half-embrace with his thumbs cradling her cheeks and her arms around his waist, for a moment. He wanted to ask what happened. He didn’t want to make it, whatever it was, anymore real for her.

And then she said, “I went there, you know?” like they were already in the middle of the conversation and Seth understood what had gotten her so upset.

His eyebrows knotted together. “Olivia--”

“I went there. Willingly. I walked right through the front door. I saw the five-course meal and knew it wasn’t a spontaneous offer on his part. I knew he wanted me there all along. I thought it flattering,” she spat-out like the word itself was acid.

Her tumbling explanation only made his dread grow worse and worse by each passing word. “Liv, what are you talking about? Who’s he?”

She laughed, bitterly. “Oh, just the man who owns me and all of Hollywood.”

Seth’s blood ran cold.

Her brittle laugh turned into a sob.

“Liv--”

“I walked right into it, Seth. I sat at his table. Oh god, I--” and she made a sound caught between a cry and a gasp. It was the most awful sound Seth had ever heard in his whole life, and he had just had to listen to her sobs.

“What did he do? Did he--” He inhaled sharply. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. Continued to do so even when Seth repeated his question.

“Olivia--” but she cut him off yet again with, “He just wanted me to sleep with him. Said he’d take care of me. Make sure I had all the best roles, best publicity. Just offered me everything I ever thought I wanted in exchange debasing myself.”

Her words were so matter-of-fact. All the near-hysterical laugh-sobbing of a moment before was gone and Olivia just seemed deflated now. Like a balloon caught in slow-motion the instant it pops.

Seth felt too many things to count. Too many emotions to even begin to name. His hands moved from her cheeks to her back as he pulled her back into him. He wasn’t met with any resistance. Olivia melted into him as he squeezed her tightly.

“I shouldn’t have went. I should’ve insisted we meet at a restaurant. I should’ve read my contract more closely. Seth, how am I supposed to live with myself knowing everything I could’ve done--”

“There isn’t anything you could’ve done,” he interrupted firmly. Seth forced himself to breathe through his nostrils before continuing, forcing his voice to be gentler. “You need to understand that. There isn’t anything you could’ve done because you did nothing wrong. He’s the one who did this, Olivia. He would’ve done this no matter what you did or didn’t do. He’s a...”

Seth wavered here. He knew what he wanted to say, but didn’t want to upset her further.

“A predator,” she finished for him. He had never believed in Gloria’s claimed ESP powers, but in this instant he felt Olivia’s to be real.

“A predator,” he repeated.

Olivia began to pull away from him and he let her go though every fiber of his being was urging him to keep her close. At least here on this rooftop no slimy movie producers could touch them.

Her wide dark eyes were still a bit puffy but they still crinkled at the corners when she smiled at him. Not quite where he wanted her smile to be, but he’d gladly take it.

“You’re right. Seth, that’s why I... I was so scared and felt so alone and I just didn’t know where else to go.”

He put his hand on her forearm to give a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not alone. You’re never alone.” Seth waited until she nodded to continue. “But why... I mean, why didn’t you knock on my door then if you wanted to see me? I would’ve answered.”

“I know. I wanted to. But then I was standing there, on the verge of crying, and I--I chickened out. I thought if I said it, that somehow would make it worse.” Olivia latched on to his hand and intertwined their fingers. “But I needed this. To--to tell you. To get it all out. I--thank you. Seriously, I--”

He was already shaking his head no before she could finish. “You don’t owe me anything, Iowa. Not a damn thing.”

They stayed holding hands on the rooftop for a long while. Seth wanted to tell her his idea of burning Viktor’s house down. Wanted to call in the cavalry and sick Victoria loose on the bastard. But he could tell that wasn’t what Olivia needed right now. She needed time to process. And he was glad to give it to her. Whatever she needed. Even if he had to smother his own feelings of anger towards the piece of shit for the time being.

Again, as if reading his mind, she said, “I know I’ll have to figure out my next step. And it’ll be scary and complicated and just...” Olivia sighed an exasperated sigh. “I just want to sleep right now.”

“Yeah, of course. But, uh--” he started, but at the exact same moment as he began speaking, she also had as well.

They both laughed awkwardly.

“Sorry, you first,” Seth encouraged.

Her cheeks flushed. “No, uh, I mean, I was just gonna say that my new place is kinda far and, uh...”

“Iowa, what kind of a man do you take me for?”

Olivia’s eyes widened. Oh ho ho, man, was it good to get her. “N--no, um, that’s not--”

“To think I’m not the sort of gentleman prepared for a sleepover at any given moment is just plain insulting. You have wounded me deeply, madam,” Seth sniffled, throwing in a head toss for good measure.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that she was smiling. Finally, a genuine one, the first real one of the night.

Good. He was glad.

Tomorrow, they’d discuss how to properly rake that disgusting cat turd over the coals.

Tonight, he was glad to make her forget it.

“My apologies, my good fellow. I hadn’t meant to imply that whatsoever. Shall I write you an apology note?” Olivia joked along, breaking their hand hold to link her arm around his.

“In your own blood as opposed to ink should suffice.”

“Perhaps attached to my left ear so you know I’m truly, truly sorry.”

“Now you’re talking,” he teased before leading them back downstairs to his apartment. “Since you’ve made such a good show of apologizing, I shall give you the bed and all the extra marshmallows in your hot cocoa.”

Olivia stopped walking. Which, since they were linked at their arms, meant he stopped walking too. Seth craned his head down to her, confused. Had he already stuck his foot in his mouth? They hadn’t even made it over the threshold yet.

“You don’t have to give me the bed.”

Seth started to argue that point, but she beat him to the punch. Or rather gave him a punch. Metaphorically. Though it might as well have been physically since it would’ve shocked him almost as much.

“I want you to sleep with me.”

He blinked in response.

Olivia animatedly began explaining herself. “In the same bed, I meant. Together. In your bed. Me and you in the same bed at the same time. Fully clothed! I didn’t mean to--”

A door opened nearby and out popped Gloria’s head with her hair all up in curlers.

“Oh dear, it’s just as I thought. The spirits warned me you’d be back and now here you are, rousing me from slumber at 2:30 A.M.”

Seth sheepishly smiled at his neighbor while Olivia asked her, “Wait, how did you know that I’d be here?”

“It’s just as I said, dear. The spirits. That, and the thin walls,” Gloria nodded sagely.

He stifled a laugh.

“Sorry, Gloria. We’ll get out of your hair now.” He figured if he hadn’t stepped in now, that Olivia would just be content to stand here in the hallway shooting a puzzled look at Gloria all evening long.

Gloria moved back into her apartment, mumbling something about ‘being able to cut it with a knife,’ whatever that meant. And Seth guided Olivia to his apartment as quietly as possible so as not to wake anybody else up.

Once inside, he fumbled for the light switch. He quickly realized that Olivia had never actually seen his place before and would’ve probably been embarrassed by the clutter if this had been different circumstances. Okay, maybe he was still a bit embarrassed by it even under these circumstances. If he rushed her past the unwashed dishes in the sink, who would really blame him, huh?

“I just don’t think I can fall asleep alone tonight,” Olivia sighed.

It stopped him in his tracks.

“I know I’m already being an imposition--yes, I am, please don’t argue, I’m too tired to argue--and I know it’s a silly request, but please can you just sleep with me so I don’t have to sleep alone?”

Seth nodded, adding, “It’s not silly. C’mere,” as he hugged her again. The hug turned into a sort of half-drag as he helped her into his bed. She seemed like she was already half-asleep. Olivia slipped off her shoes and so did he. That was about as much as they had energy for before she curled up in a ball at his side, head buried in his chest. Then it hit him like a freight train just how drained he was. His eyes were already fluttering closed almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Her warmth beside him didn’t help.

“Seth?” she asked, her voice sounding so small like he imagined a fairy’s would sound like. Well, if that fairy was also on the verge of passing out.

“Hm?”

“You called me Liv tonight.”

Oh, shit. He had. Like multiple times. He’d never called her that before. Oh, fuck, was that weird? That was probably weird. That’s what she was gonna say was how weird that was. Oh, shi--

“‘s cute. You’re cute.”

It was quiet in his apartment now.

#red carpet diaries #choices red carpet diaries #seth x mc #seth levine #rcd mc #myfic #hi i have no idea where this came from lkfglyhnk oh god this is probably rly bad i'm sorry

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aldridgemccall1-blog · 6 years ago

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vibrationplate6-blog · 6 years ago

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Woah! Just take a second to be able to catch your breath of air as well as think - genuinely think: Precisely how would your own workout efficiency and has a muscle physique exertion/contraction quantities change in the event that you began producing power at the Category a few level? What kind and also amount of energy would you actually generate along with sustain? Precisely what kind of muscular exercise levels would you generate in addition to sustain? What type of total, previously worked, greatest contractions would you provoke - through the beneficial as well as negative aspects connected with each repetition? What sort of mental toughness instructions and attitude forcefulness -- would you mobilize and also proceed fueled by? In fact... just what degrees of bodily increase, advancement, and muscle growth does one sense you would decisively activate?

I'll think your pulse rate, body temp, and breathing pace just simply elevated somewhat yet again, since you just considered the particular effect you'd produce via creating Category 5 level. Envision now what might happen when you truly start generating this training voltage!

BUILDING, SURGING, MAGNIFICATION, AMPLIFYING Moving Yourself For you to Make Category 5 Region Training Intensity

Uh, I am just hoping you're "interested" throughout how one can begin strengthening your current inside training force for you to much more extreme, and strong degrees? Ah; thought thus. Time to share, therefore, now present you a really specific, advanced process helping you to infamously produce this, along with create it when you educate.

[*Just recall, for some sort of instant, the TV graphics you found of natural disaster Katrina's Classification 5 strength bending enormous palm forest over to where these people looked like little couple of twigs willing to be snapped with half. At this point, you'll receive an even sharper impression of the command influence electric power Category 5 depth wields. And, what would certainly it appear like if this particular force were your own exercise routine fuel? How about this specific: Set after set, representative after rep - which has a gut wrenching compulsion : you're pushing, driving, looking -- feverishly exerting a lot more intensely, more fiercely, in fact, more indomitably FEROCIOUSLY! Hey there - can you take care of that?! I think a person CAN!! ]

Mobilizing Type 5 Intensity In Anyone [First, read through the below process in its whole. After that, apply exactly while outlined. ]

Step #1: Mentally/Physically Soothing To Get Subconscious Access

(perform this kind of Step #1 in your own personal home just! )

Throughout an area just where if you're sure you won't end up being disturbed, lie comfortably on your own back on either your personal bed, the floor, or perhaps extended completely in a E-Z lounge chair. Let your own arms rest for your isn't stable, palms facing down, palms loosely apart.

Following, outstanding as still as is possible, enable your eyelids gently shut, and take 3 l-o-n-g d-e-e-p breaths, inhaling throughout your nostrils, and easily exhaling from your mouth. And along with each exhalation, mentally replicate the word "R-e-l-e-a-s-e".

Subsequent, envision yourself slowly and gradually climbing down a staircase of seven entire steps. And as an individual descend each step, in your mind do it again the word "D-o-w-n" to by yourself, allowing each muscle in addition to fiber in you to simply quickly let loose, and slowly relax with each effective step you descend. Any time you've easily reached underneath step #1, and check out the sensation of deep as well as soothing comfort, shift your current awareness to perform Action #2:

Step #2: Being able to view Some sort of Magnitude Intensity Exercise routine Recollection

(perform this Move #2 in your house only! )

Now, seeing that you're mentally/physically relaxed, call to mind a exercise where you know your speed and agility (and effort) could simply be labeled as "sustained cure travel - as Ultra drive impact. This can be easy for anyone as you recall typically the very very last time you actually embodied feverish, driving energy, and absolutely compelling fierceness and power during a new workout:

o Possibly the idea was during an hand workout where you ended up blasting your biceps about barbell preacher curls rapid to help extreme pump and also physical effort degrees. You don't simply do 10 reps, a person does 12. And the item felt the skin would likely pop. Nevertheless, you maintained often the mental anger - the actual fierce, unwavering mental stability - which often over-rode virtually any attempt of the body in order to stop you!

e Maybe it was a knee workout where you cinched your own personal belt one step firmer than you generally do. In addition to hung far more weight on the tavern than you usually will. As well as blasted out established following set of travails that still left your lower limbs feeling similar to max-engorged shrub trunks; your personal lungs sensed like bellows from nightmare, but since you also sustained this sort of fierceness associated with effort, this was a igual laborious task for you to wander out somewhere else to your own car after your current work out was done!

You will know what that magnitude intensity training ended up being for you. Just let your awareness to search your own personal recollection, and you will probably come to identify the target workout such because this from the past. With once you've in your head singled out this specific workout out of your memory core:

o Imaginatively make the picture regarding this predicament brighter, considerably more vivid and even more distinct.

i Then, suffering from it since if it's playing out and about upon a large, bright motion picture screen, imaginatively provide it nearer, and deeper toward an individual.

o And also as you imaginatively deliver it closer toward anyone, make it even nicer, better, and more 3-dimensionally vivid.

to And subsequently, imaginatively bring it possibly closer toward you -- so close, it's like it's right in front side of see your face -- while if you can touch base and touch it -- as if this is usually your extremely reality in that case and right now there!

At this particular moment you should inwardly notice, feel, sense along with expertise all related variables containing this scenario instructions as if that had been your very lifestyle within the current moment.

Stage #3: Anchoring The Serious Sensory Strength of Your Specifications Intensity Exercise

(perform this specific Step #3 at home simply! )

Now, as an alternative to6123 "watching" this scenario of your personal specifications intensity workout, imaginatively action into the photograph, into your human body... in addition to, feeling your incredible strength and energy internet streaming expertly through you:

- ) See exactly what you actually observe as this mega-intensity workout drive - growing to be aware of precisely how all of things you see all-around you look for you.

only two. ) And then, thoroughly f-e-e-l exactly what you experience as this mega-intensity exercise routine pressure.

3. ) Subsequently, venture the exact skin expression a person project whenever you are this mega-intensity workout force -- in the slant of your vision, towards the flare of your own nostrils, for the curl as well as purse of your respective lips.

some. ) In that case, mentally claim to yourself -- applying the exact words and also voice tonality you employ : exactly what an individual say to yourself if you inwardly communicate to your self as the embodiment involving this mega-intensity workout push.

5. ) And, after that purposefully b-r-e-a-t-h-e exactly the particular way you inhale while you are this mega-intensity exercise force.

Next, seeing that most likely inwardly replicating almost all of #'s 1-5... squeeze your correct fist challenging, continuing to be able to breathe just as the mega-intensity work out you does. Along with, possessing your fist tightly clenched, choose a word, that will to you, singularly presents anyone as this mega-intensity workout power.

For example of this, you might choose any expression such as Electrical power, Force, Lead, or Region, etc. Whichever word you actually choose, holding your current proper fist firmly clenched (and continuing to inhale and exhale because mega-workout intensity breathes), psychologically exclaim your chosen key-word 5 consecutive times together with emphatic passion.

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skelenyxx · 6 years ago

Text

//i’ll save you// ~ I’ll Save You

//Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend Somewhere along in the bitterness And I would have stayed up with you all night Had I known how to save a life.//

/*/

"Nothing we do can change what happened, Ava, but we can make sure that it never happens again."

Perhaps Shoto was right. Nothing I do could ever change the past right? As true as that fact was, it didn't ease the shame and regret that followed in the wake of that past. I could work to make sure that no one ever experienced that pain again, like Shoto suggested, but deep down, I knew that wouldn't be enough to wash away the pain I felt.

After all, it was my fault that Izuku had gotten mortally injured in that battle.

"I realize now that I probably should've talked to you about all of this before," Shoto added. I looked up at him again, his dual-colored eyes watching me again from under his red and white hair. "It's obvious you've been in a lot of pain since the fight, and I should've tried to help sooner."

I shook my head. "Don't apologize, Shoto. You haven't done anything wrong. Besides, you've had a lot of stuff to deal with since the fight as well." I may have been dealing with a lot, but I wasn't conceited enough to begin to believe that I was the only one. Shoto's father, Endeavor, was one of the Pros killed by Shigaraki and his hoard of Nomu, and handling the repercussions of that couldn't have been a small feat. "I've been meaning to ask, how have things been since...? Have you been doing okay?"

"I can't say things have been easy," he replied with a shrug. "I may have despised that man, but in the end, he was still my father. It's hard to explain... But since he's no longer around, my family and I have been able to work on the paperwork to get my mother out of the hospital."

"That's amazing, Shoto."

"She won't be officially released for another couple weeks, but it's a relief to know that the end of that torment is finally in sight. Without my father around, it's like a weight has been lifted off of all of us. It feels like we can actually be a family, but at the same time, his absence in itself is another weight added."

His mother meant the world to him, and understandably so. After all he went through in his childhood, it was honestly a miracle that he made it through as well as he did. His father was an abusive, overbearing figure that put all his own unfulfilled dreams and desires onto Shoto, and it resulted in a very tough home life. I knew I couldn't understand his true feelings about his father's death and how conflicting they might be, but I could at least understand his happiness in the fact that his mother would finally be coming home.

"I'm glad that things are going alright for you and your family. You deserve it," I said with probably the most genuine smile I'd been able to wear in weeks.

"Thanks."

We grew quiet again, occupying our minds as we watched Izuku in the hospital bed. His chest rose and fell evenly in time with the beep of the heart monitor, IV bags hanging by his bed labeled things like saline, and other machines all cranking along to the functions of his body. I wished he would just open his eyes, the green irises taking in his surroundings and analyzing everything the way they always did. I wanted to see his sweet, genuine smile and hear the determination in his voice. Izuku was the one who made me feel like I could be strong, and without him, I felt like my strength had been sucked out through a straw, leaving me weak and helpless. Perhaps it was a bad thing that I was so dependent on my friend, and it was such a stark contrast to the person I was many years ago, but I guess that was to be expected when you have a story like mine. Izuku taught me what it meant to be a friend, and what it meant to be a hero. To me, he was the epitome of those words, doing everything in his power to help the people he cared about and putting everything on the line in order to protect others. But in the end, it was his determination as a hero and a friend that put him in that bed.

No, it was me that put him in that bed.

"It's so strange seeing him like this," Shoto said after a while. "He was always so energetic and passionate. It's weird not seeing him around school."

I nodded. "I miss him. I just want him to wake up."

"Midoriya has probably the strongest heart of any person I know. I'm sure he's doing whatever he can to get back to us. He won't give up."

"But what if that's not enough?"

Shoto shook his head. "Don't think about it that way. Believe in him. Midoriya always finds a way to win. As he would put it: 'That's what heroes do.'"

Because that's what heroes do. Izuku had said that sentence so many times over the years. Anytime someone second guessed his motives or questioned why he wouldn't back down or retreat, his response was always those five words. Izuku was a true hero, not just to me but to everyone around him. There wasn't a sliver of doubt in my mind that he was meant to be the next symbol of peace, just like his mentor, All Might, and he had chased that very dream since he was a quirkless elementary school boy. He never gave up on it, and it lead him to becoming one of the most promising young heroes of our generation.

"So what do you normally do while you're here?" Shoto asked me suddenly. "You spend practically every free minute you have here at the hospital and it doesn't seem Midoriya has all too many visitors to keep you company anymore."

I shrugged. "Sometimes I watch the news or read. Sometimes his mom his here so she and I chat for a while. But a lot of the time, I just talk to him."

"Talk to him?" Shoto furrowed his brows in confusion at my statement.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I don't know too much about superstitious beliefs here Japan, even after living here for three years, so I don't know if you guys have the same belief, but in America, a lot of people believe that if you talk to a person in a coma that you have a close connection to, they can hear your voice. I don't know if I believe it or not, but I want to; I just want him to know that I'm here still and that we're all waiting for him to wake up."

"What do you say to him?"

"Different things each time. I usually recount what's going on in school, what's been happening with his mother, and what the media has been saying about him or about Hero society as a whole. And a lot of the time I just talk about old memories of us and our friends over the years."

"Sounds like you're a lot more sentimental than you like to let on," Shoto tried at a bit of humor. Surprisingly, it worked, and the smallest curl graced my lips.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

/*/

Shoto stayed with me at the hospital for a few hours before eventually excusing himself. He said he would've stayed with me until visiting hours were over, but he was supposed to be meeting his mother's doctor with his older sister to work out some of the finer details of Mrs. Todoroki's release. I was glad that in the dark wake of such a devastating fight, he was able to find some light in it.

His words and advice still rung in my head. He was right; I had to start moving forward one way or another. Maybe I didn't deserve to, but I'm supposed to be a hero, and a hero saves people. I needed to keep working, keep learning so that this would never happen again. That's what Izuku would want.

The League of Villains may have been bested, but there will always be another baddie around the corner, each stronger than the last. Until hero society stabilized and a new symbol of peace was in place, villains would continue to grow ever more cocky, and more people would be in danger. If Izuku were awake, he'd be doing everything in his power to be ready for that and to protect people, so for his sake, ultimately I had to do the same.

But I knew that it was far from me truly moving forward. My body and mind may be working toward the future, but my heart was to remain in that hospital room with Izuku until the day his eyes opened again. But when would that day come? I didn't know. Sometimes it felt truly hopeless, like it would never happen at all.

Izuku wouldn't be in a coma if it weren't for me, that I knew within every fiber of my soul. He saved me, not just in the fight but so many times since the day we'd met. I wouldn't ever be able to repay him or atone for my failures until he came back.

I stood beside his bed, noticing the clock on the wall strike 10PM, telling me that visiting hours were over, and I felt a sudden determination wash over me. I knew what had to be done.

"I promise, Izuku," I spoke softly, my hand reaching out and gently gripping his. "On my life, I'll find a way. I'll save you."

This time, I'll be his hero.

/*/

//2 Months Ago, Tokyo//

"Oh my god," the young woman breathed as she took in the scene of destruction before her. Her face was largely obscured by the hood and mask that came up over her nose, but you could see the horror written in her blue eyes as she surveyed the battleground.

"Angel Blade!" a voice shouted from not too far off. The girl turned, her white and gold cape fluttering in the wind, as she came face to face with a boy her age, his green body suit blurring in her vision as he leaped around the rubble to her side.

They quickly ducked behind a large piece of building that had fallen, crouching as they breathed heavily. Angel Blade pulled her mask down and looked at the boy. "This is really bad, Deku."

Deku nodded, his green hair shaking haphazardly as he frowned. "Shigaraki just took out every Pro Hero that faced him. He's gotten exponentially stronger since All For One passed him his power."

"I'm not even sure I can say that's Shigaraki anymore," Angel Blade replied with a quick glance over the rubble at the thing that stood at the center of the destruction. "With all that power, he's become a monster. If the top Pros couldn't take him, I don't know if anyone can."

Another group of figures came into view, running towards the pair from behind some more rubble nearby. Angel Blade recognized them to be Ingenium, Uravity, Froppy, Ground Zero, Creati, Tsukoyomi, Red Riot, and Shoto, more of her classmates from UA.

"What are we going to do?" Creati, a tall brunette with elegant features asked once the group had reached them. "He'll destroy the entire city!"

"We're going to fight him, you idiot!" Ground Zero all but shouted, balling his fists at his sides. "We were asked to be here as backup and what kinda backup are we if we don't fill in when shit gets rough?"

"I agree with Kaachan," Deku spoke up, accidentally letting slip the nickname of his childhood friend rather than his hero name. Under the stress of the situation, nobody could blame him. "We can't let him keep going on or he'll just continue growing stronger and hurt a lot more people."

"Can we even defeat a villain like that?" Ingenium asked under the mask of his white armor, at the moment more concerned about the safety of his friends. Shigaraki had become a menace to behold, and to him it seemed like a fruitless effort to even try to fight him.

"We have to," Deku said with determination. "We may not be Pros yet, but we're the last heroes standing. The citizens are counting on us to protect them. We have to fight, and we have to win."

The group knew their friend was right, and although they had trained for fighting villains such as this, nothing could've prepared them for the fear that arose when actually forced to face power like Shigaraki's.

"I'm in," Angel Blade said, hands resting on the hilts of her swords. "If Deku is fighting then so am I."

"Me as well," Shoto spoke up.

"And me," Red Riot added, his spiked red hair practically glowing the light of the burning surroundings. "This is what we do as heroes, and it's not very manly to run away from an enemy."

"Tch, I was going to fight whether you guys joined me or not. Just don't get in my way," said Ground Zero, glaring at his friends.

"I think its best for you seven to fight since you're the strongest front line fighters of the group," Creati strategized, also looking at the bird man Tsukoyomi and the "white knight" Ingenium.

"Froppy, Creati and I will work on freeing trapped civilians and helping the injured heroes get out of the way," Uravity decided. "You guys won't be able to fight at full power until the area is cleared, and we can't hope to win without that power."

"Actually," Ingenium spoke up, "against a monster like that, I won't be of much help. I'll only get in the way if I try to fight. My attacks aren't powerful enough to take him on. I think my abilities would be more useful in helping to evacuate people. The quicker we get people out, the sooner you guys can go all out."

"I'm in the same boat," Tsukoyomi added sullenly. "Between the fires in this destruction and your three quirks," he looked at Angel Blade, Shoto, and Ground Zero, "Dark Shadow will be too weak to hold up against Shigaraki. It'd be better if I help the wounded and trapped." He bowed his head. "I'm sorry I can't be of more use."

"It's okay," Deku assured. "Getting people to safety is still a huge help."

Uravity placed a hand on Deku's shoulder. "Be careful," she looked around at the group that was about to march into the fray of battle, "all of you. And good luck."

"Always," Angel Blade smiled, pulling up her white mask over her mouth and nose.

The two groups split off, the rescuers heading into the wreckage of buildings to remove citizens and downed heroes, while the fighters dodged crumbling rubble on their way to the epicenter of the battle to face the creature that Shigaraki had become. Angel Blade stood at the edge of the giant crater created by the fight and stared at the monster in apprehension. Nomu or human, she wasn't sure what he was anymore. His once frail body was now swollen beyond its normal size, at least ten feet tall with massive distorted muscles and strange structures like spikes protruding from random parts. Sometimes the form of his appendages would change into things like large blades or pointed spikes sharp enough to impale anyone within arms reach. The incredulous amount of quirks dwelling within his body had created this atrocity, and they were all bursting forth simultaneously. It was a terrifying sight.

Deku and Shoto came to stand beside her, determination written in their features.

"Ready?" Deku asked.

Angel Blade nodded, eyes narrowing at the monster as she unsheathed her dual swords and activated her quirk. Orange flames licked down her arms, engulfing her hands and the swords in the blaze. Hellfire, her quirk was called. Very few knew the reason behind that name, but she had a feeling that her secret was going to be out after tonight. She couldn't afford to hold back against this foe or else risk the safety of herself and her friends.

Shoto and Deku also activated their quirks, fire engulfing Shoto's left side as a horrendously cold mist played on his right, and power surged through Deku as he let his quirk flow into his limbs, using Full Cowling to enhance his speed and strength immeasurably.

"Let's do this," she said, leaping off the edge of rubble into the crater alongside her friends.

The following battle was a frenzy of exchanged blows, fire, and ice. Ground Zero maneuvered through the air, using his explosions for propulsion and blasting Shigaraki in the face to knock him off balance any chance he could get. Deku, Red Riot, and Angel Blade dodged in and out of range of the enemy's reaches, attacking where they could and parrying when they couldn't, while Shoto used his ice and fire from a distance to burn or freeze him every chance he could get. Their movements and strategy were fluid, working seamlessly like a well oiled machine. They had trained alongside each other for three years, but that kind of teamwork is something that comes with more than just cooperation. It's understanding your comrades' quirks, theirs strengths, their weaknesses, and their fight styles. It's understanding how they'll approach a situation, how they'll react to peril, and what their motives are. The teamwork they showcased, it came from more than just being comrades or classmates.

It came from being friends, friends who trusted each other with their lives.

But no matter their cohesiveness and their power, it still wasn't enough. Shigaraki was more powerful than any villain or Nomu they had ever faced, and no matter how much they threw at him, he fought back with twice the strength. Not only that, but any damage they did to him only regenerated, leaving him practically unscathed. Meanwhile, the young heroes were beginning to wear down, taking hits left and right, unable to fully outmaneuver the massive beast that they faced. If they didn't find a way to turn the fight around, and soon, they would ultimately lose the fight the same as the Pros before them.

"Shit," Angel Blade cursed in pain as she slammed against what was left of a wall. She gripped her side, trying to force the searing pain to subside and she grimaced. She had moved in for another attack, using her flaming dual blades to slice into the monster, but she wasn't fast enough to move back before he had swung out with his massive arm, knocking her across the battlefield.

"Are you okay?" Shoto asked in concern as he approached her position, sliding on his ice to come defend his beaten friend as she tried to regain her footing.

"I think so," she responding, using one of her blades dug into the ground to pull herself back into a standing position. She grimaced again, clenching her jaw as her side felt like it was being stabbed. "I think I broke a few ribs," she added.

"Can you still fight?"

She nodded, pulling her blade out of the ground. "We won't be able to hold him off much longer like this."

"I know. We just have to hold out until the others finish evacuating the area." Shoto sent out another ice wave, the glacier grabbing hold of Shigaraki's arm, preventing him from landing a blow to Ground Zero as the angry blonde blew through the air yet again, firing another blast to the beast's face. It was enough to stall him slightly, but he quickly broke free of the hold, shattering the ice as though it were a thin sheet of glass.

Angel Blade reactivated her quirk, the warm sensation traveling down her arms and engulfing the swords she held as an extension of her attack range. Her flames could only affect what she touched; they weren't projectable like Shoto's, so she used the blades to give her more fighting power in close combat. Angel Blade had trained for many years to be able to use her dual blades as well as she could, and if she hadn't ended up moving to Japan to attend UA, she's sure she would've ultimately become an assassin "hero," like she'd been trained to be.

She glared through the pain, taking a deep breath and running back into the fray of the fight. Shoto used a wave of ice to give her a ramp to run up, and she leaped off the top, bringing one of her flaming blades down through Shigaraki's shoulder. She used the other to push herself back off of him, dislodging her blade and leaping back out of the way of a spike that immediately formed where she had been perched on his back. She growled in frustration as the wound immediately closed, the creature not even flinching in pain. Her attack was followed closely by Red Riot, who used his strength and hardened body to break the spike from Shigaraki's body and then use it as a baseball bat, slamming it into his side with such force that it actually knocked the monster to the side a bit. Just as he tilted to the side, Ground Zero came flying through the air, firing an explosive blast so large that even Angel Blade could feel the searing heat and had to dig her swords into the ground to keep from being blown backwards.

Ground Zero landed beside her in the most typical hero pose ever, glaring through the haze of smoke at the silhouette that was their enemy.

"If that didn't blast the bastard's face off then I don't know what will," he growled, panting heavily.

But as the smoke cleared away, the heroes stood dismayed at the sight of the still unscathed villain before them. The massive creature formed his arm into a blade and swung it out at the closest hero in range, which happened to be Red Riot. The red head was able to negate the damage that would've been caused by the blade by using his quirk, but it didn't keep him from being smashed relentlessly into the ground repeatedly. Angel Blade knew that her friend's Unbreakable form could only outlast so much, and foreseeing the worst, she rushed to his aide, digging a blade into the arm of the beast and tearing it out with a strength she didn't realize she had, nearly severing the limb entirely. For once, Shigaraki actually recoiled from the attack, pulling away long enough for the others to join in and distract him while Angel Blade pulled Red Riot up and ran him to the side.

His stone-like skin was cracked profusely, blood oozing out indiscriminately, and Angel Blade realized that that last attack had pushed him to his limit.

"I-I can still f-fight," he groaned, attempting to stand up before immediately losing balance and falling again.

"No," Angel Blade warned. "You're too injured and you've reached your limit."

"I can keep going!"

"You'll get killed, Eijiro," she said, using his first name in warning as she tore off her cape, handing it to him to use to wipe the blood dripping down his face. "You can't even stand and your Unbreakable form is shattered. That last attack was his strongest one yet. If it had been anyone but you that he'd hit, it would've killed them."

"I won't let my friends fight without me!"

"And I won't let one of my friends run into battle when they're on the brink of death!"

Red Riot stared at the destruction before him. He knew she was right, but he had a horribly bad feeling about what was to come; he needed to be there to protect his friends, at any cost. He had reached and surpassed his limit, but it wasn't in him to give up.

"Angel Blade!" A voice shouted from beyond the crater. "Deku, Ground Zero, Shoto, Red Riot!" A white armored figure flashed into view, standing at the edge of the crater, illuminated by the blazes surrounding him. It was Ingenium. "We've cleared the area!"

Noticing his two classmates off to the side, Ingenium ran to Angel Blade and Red Riot's side.

"Ingenium," Angel Blade said, "Take Red Riot to safety."

"What?! No!" Red Riot insisted.

"He's too injured and if we go full power, he'll be in even more danger," the girl continued. Understanding, Ingenium nodded, speedily scooping up the stubborn red head and rushing off with him in his arms.

"Dammit, Iida!" Red Riot shouted. "Take me back!"

"You know I can't do that, Kirishima," Ingenium said, still running effortlessly through the rubble and away from the fight. "Angel Blade is right. They won't be able to fight at full power if you're there."

"I need to help them!"

"Trust in their abilities, Red Riot. They are well-trained heroes. They will stop Shigaraki."

With Red Riot removed from the scene, Angel Blade turned back to the fight, noticing that the rest of her group had backed off momentarily, standing in ready. Deku took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. He was scraped up and bruised, but far from beaten. It wasn't over yet, not by a long shot.

"You heard the man," Ground Zero shouted. "It's time to go all out!" The blonde smirked mischievously, removing the safety from his explosive gauntlets that adorned his wrists, each one storing enough fire power to destroy a building.

Deku nodded, unleashing the mental dam that held back the majority of his quirk's power. He felt the power and adrenaline course through his body, making him faster and stronger than ever before. He had never used Full Cowling at 100% since even using it above 20% caused a massive shift in wind pressure when he moved, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It was all or nothing.

Shoto had to be careful about using his power, because if he lost control of it, he could seriously injure the people around him, but they knew the risks of all of them going full power near each other, and they didn't have much of a choice. He raised the temperature of his flames, going so hot that they began to turn blue around him. The heat was blistering, so hot that it could be felt beyond the battle field, and when it was turned against their foe, it was a wonder the creature didn't melt on the spot.

Angel Blade stared ahead in apprehension. She didn't like using her quirk's full power; even after years of Deku reminding her that it was nothing to fear and to accept it as a part of herself, there was still that part of her mind that was drilled into believing it to be an atrocious thing. They may have seemed alone in the wreckage, but she knew that through news broadcasts, the whole world was watching them and their fight. She didn't know what they were saying or feeling about the young greenhorns, but all eyes were on them. Regardless, they needed all of their power if they were to win, and she couldn't let her friends risk their lives while she stood on the side. She flipped her blades in her hands, bringing the ends of the hilts together in front of her as she closed her eyes. The flames moved down from her arms, engulfing her entire body in the blaze as she upped the temperature. What was left of her cape burned away, revealing the form of fiery wings, and her blades, engulfed in the flames, melded together, shifting into one, large weapon: a scythe. She opened her eyes again, and they were no longer the familiar cerulean orbs that people knew belonging to the young woman; they were a bright red.

Deku leaped into action first, moving so fast the eye couldn't see him. A harsh wave of air collided with this teammates as he landed a powerful punch to the monster's abdomen, enough force to knock them over if they hadn't been prepared. They all knew the destructive power of Deku's quirk when used at its full power, and they had trained alongside it for long enough to know how to work around it.

Angel Blade used the rush of air to pick her up off the ground, her blazing wings lifting her into the sky, high above Shigaraki. Twirling her weapon around in her hands like a flaming baton of death, she descended, aiming for Shigaraki's head.

Managing to knock Deku to the side, the creature brought up his bulging arms, blocking Angel Blade's strike. Her flames flared even higher, searing the skin on his arms that made contact with the scythe, blistering and melting under the heat. Ground Zero took the opportunity to propel himself into the air with small explosions, joining the battle.

"You're in the way, sword girl!" he shouted. Angel Blade took the hint and immediately away as an incredible blast shook the battleground. A shock wave blew through the area so strong that it felt like a nuke had just been dropped in front of them. Angel Blade was forced to land immediately, crouching to the ground and shielding herself from flying debris with his wings, attempting to not get blown away. "Don't give him a chance to breathe!" Ground Zero ordered as the wind subsided a bit. "Keep hitting the bastard!"

Shoto reached down, touching the ground with his right hand, flicking his wrist upwards and releasing a massive glacier of ice, encasing the villain in a prison of freezing temperatures. Shoto knew that wasn't enough to stop him, but it gave him enough time to maneuver himself into position for his next attack and to cool his body temperature just enough to keep from overheating. As the ice shattered into hundreds of pieces, forced apart by Shigaraki's sheer strength, the heterochromatic hero raised his left hand, focusing all his fire into one sole attack. A wave of fire rushed forward, the usual orange flames focusing into a bright white blue color, washing over the creature before. It was a technique called Prominence Burn, one that he'd learned from his father. He'd never been forced to use it before, but it was far more powerful than anything Shoto had in his arsenal, and if it didn't weaken Shigaraki, then there was little hope that anything would.

Shoto wavered, his ice melting faster than he could produce it to keep himself cool, and he felt his left hand begin to blister under the heat, but he kept going, pushing himself to the far reaches of his limits, doing everything in his power to stay standing.

Deku, Ground Zero, and Angel Blade had backed off, knowing that they couldn't withstand the heat coming from their comrade. Even for a fire type quirk user like Angel Blade, the scorching blaze was almost too much for her, sweat pouring down her face as she grimaced through it. Deku and Ground Zero did the same, keeping low to the ground and waiting for it to pass.

But after a few seconds more, the dual quirk user was forced to relinquish, his strength fading quickly, and he stumbled, panting heavily as he cradled his now horribly burned left arm in pain. He likely wouldn't be able to use much of his flames now that he'd used that attack, especially considering it was taking every ounce of strength he had to stay conscious. He looked up, hoping to see nothing but a burnt remnant of the villain, but to his dismay, he saw nothing of the sort.

The giant man stood, fibers of his body slowly replacing themselves, the burnt, charred, and melted parts of his body beginning to replenish. The creature seemed to laugh at their futile attempts.

"How is he still standing?" Angel Blade gasped in disbelief.

"We still have a chance," Deku assured them. "His regeneration is a lot slower, look! We can still do this!"

The heroes realized he was right. Although Shigaraki was still regenerating, it was exponentially slower than it had been before. That meant if they could inflict enough damage fast enough, he wouldn't be able to heal himself anymore.

Deku leaped into action, his body twirling through the air as he landed a full powered kick to the monster's jaw. Shigaraki recoiled, being knocked sideways by the force. Angel Blade kicked off the ground, gliding through the air with determination, slicing down on the beast with her blazing scythe. She continued to pound him, one after another blow, as Deku did the same, leaping about, kicking and punching wherever there was an opening. His movements kicked up massive shifts in air pressure around him, but Angel Blade maneuvered with them easily, using them to her advantage for speed or power. She had trained with her friend a lot over the years, and even though she had only used her quirk's true form in front of him once before, she knew his tactics and movements very well.

Ground Zero stood back for the moment, watching the fight with a keen eye and waiting for the opportunity to use his second gauntlet. He could only store up enough for two blasts, and he couldn't afford to waste his second one.

"You aren't gonna pass out on me, are you Icy Hot?" the blonde asked his weakened friend.

Shoto shook his head, grimacing. "That attack weakened my strength considerably," he said slowly. "I won't be able to use my fire much but I can still fight."

"Good. Just don't get yourself killed."

With that remark, Ground Zero rejoined the fight, using small explosions to distract Shigaraki and throw him off balance. Shoto pushed through the pain and managed to throw his ice in wherever he could, stalling attacks and blocking blows, but they were far from as powerful or as fast as his glaciers had been before.

Shigaraki was still fighting back, seemingly growing agitated at the increased power and number of blows he was taking, but he still wasn't backing down. Angel Blade realized that the only thing that seemed to stall and weaken him enough to continually inflict damage was fire, whether it be hers, Shoto's, or Ground Zero's. She came up with a plan, a risky one.

"Ground Zero!" she called as the black-clad hero landed a few yards away from the fight after having emitted another explosion. "Follow my lead. When I say, use your gauntlet!"

He didn't question or argue; he knew that they were desperate, and whatever she was planning was better than no plan at all.

"Deku!" she called down to the green-haired boy below her. "Keep his arms occupied!"

Deku nodded, leaping up and landing another kick down on the monster's shoulder, momentarily dislocating it before it healed itself again. Their original number of 5 had been shot down to 4, and that 4th member of the team was injured and weakened. They had to do something, fast, before there was no one left to fight at all.

As Deku kept Shigaraki's attention, Angel Blade soared through the air, landing on the villain's shoulders, her scythe pulled against his neck in a choke hold. She took a deep breath and released all of her power, letting her flames scorch hotter than ever before. Deku leaped too and fro, keeping the monster's hands and arms away from snatching his friend from her hold on him, and she continued to push her flame power. She couldn't reach temperatures like Shoto's, but she hoped that with the direct contact and his weakened state, it would be enough to push him over the edge.

Angel Blade suddenly felt a searing pain as Shigaraki grew spikes out of his back, one of them impaling her leg. She felt the sticky warm blood run down her leg, but she refused to let go. The villain began to squirm harder, doing his damnedest to get her off of him, but she wouldn't budge.

Just as she felt her fire power begin to wan, she looked up at Ground Zero who stood at the ready. "Do it!" She screamed. "Now!"

She was in the way, and both of them knew it, but he understood what she was doing. She had to hold on until the very last second in order to keep him from regenerating before the blow. Ground Zero clenched his jaw, taking off towards the monster at full speed. He closed in, 20 meters, 10 meters, five, three. Just as he reached the sweet spot to release the explosion, Angel Blade released her hold, dropping just in time to avoid the brunt of it.

But it didn't work the way she'd planned. Just as Ground Zero pulled the pin on his gauntlet, a spike protruded from the creature's shoulder, slamming into the hero, throwing off his aim and sending him flying backwards. The misaimed blast caught Angel Blade in the back, the force throwing her through the air and scorching her skin. She collided with the ground harshly several meters away.

She gasped in pain, looking up through the haze to see the aftermath of her failed plan. Ground Zero lie in an unconscious heap, having been knocked into the side of the crater, his gauntlets destroyed and hero costume torn and dirtied. Shoto was still kneeling on the ground a small distance away, his injured arm held close to his body as he watched in horror as his friends were all simultaneously knocked down. Deku had also been hit by the blast, although not as bad, and he managed to stand up, costume slightly scorched.

Angel Blade grabbed ahold of her scythe, forcing herself into a standing position, favoring her bleeding leg. She stared through the hazy smoke, and felt as though she might collapse in anguish. The blast and her flames had done damage; the villain before her was scorched almost beyond recognition, small chunks of his body completely burned away, but to the heroes' dismay, he was still standing.

What else was there to do? They were injured and running on empty, and it took everything they had just to have done what they had.

Shigaraki's wild eyes landed on the annoying girl that had pinned him with the scythe, and he suddenly gained tunnel vision, charging at her in a furry. His fist flew at her faster than she could react, and she tried to raise her scythe to parry, but she knew that it was a failed effort. A blow like that, in her state, would kill her.

"Ava!" A voice tore through the night as a rush of wind blasted the girl off balance. In a blur, the green haired hero rushed to her aid, determined to protect his friend. He raised his arms, legs digging into the ground to block the force of the villain's blow, but in his desperation to get to her, he didn't see the other arm coming, this one forming into a malformed blade.

Angel Blade became aware of something wet splashing her face, and dizzy from the force that had knocked her over, she looked up, making out the silhouette of her best friend, standing over her in defense, a large blade impaled in his abdomen, running the hero through.

"I-Izuku?" She breathed, barely above a whisper. She couldn't believe her eyes, seeing the dark liquid staining his costume and the shiny surface of the blade, glistening red with his blood. He had saved her, but at the cost of himself.

"I-I'm not... I'm not... done!" The young hero said, looking up through the haze of pain. He knew his injury was bad, and he knew he should've been scared, fearing for his life, but in that moment, he felt nothing but determination. He had to win. If he didn't, his friends would die and the city would be destroyed. Hero society would collapse, and everything he'd worked so hard for would be gone. Shigaraki couldn't win. He wouldn't let him.

A fist flew, nailing the villain in the face and forcing him to step back, removing the blade from Deku's body. Deku took his stance. "This isn't over until I'm dead!" He shouted.

Angel Blade watched in awe and terror as her friend unleashed a frenzy of power, throwing punches and kicks in a flurry of attacks, moving so fast that they were a blur. She gripped the ground, trying to keep from being blown away by the massive wind pressure. It was a sight to behold, the young hero fighting tooth and nail, each blow stronger than the last, and she realized something.

Deku was using more than 100% of his power.

In his desperation and determination, he had surpassed his quirk's limit, pounding the villain again and again, targeting every weak spot he could find. He was using every once of strength he had to win.

Deku could feel his consciousness beginning to fade, his vision going in and out of haziness, but his power wasn't stopping. He had to finish it, now. Deku raised his fist, forcing all of his remaining power into his arm, and he swung it upwards, letting out the loudest battle cry he'd ever screamed in his life.

"PLUS ULTRAAAA!"

His fist collided with Shigaraki's chin, knocking the villain upwards and backwards. He stumbled, eyes fogging over, before he collapsed to the ground, out cold.

Deku panted, a gloved hand reaching up in a fist, striking a winning pose. They couldn't hear them, but Angel Blade knew that the world was cheering for her friend, the hero Deku, who'd saved them all.

Within seconds of his victory, Deku suddenly felt dizziness overtake him, and without warning, he collapsed, blood pooling on the ground around him.

A shrill voice cut through the night, echoing through the abandoned streets of Tokyo, a voice of fear and desperation.

"Izuku!"

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