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Chapter Text

Slowly, she became aware of herself after an indeterminate amount of time. The last thing she remembered was that she was going to take one of her decennial pilgrimage to Izumo and Hakuto, but as soon as she left the confines of the Great Hakurei Barrier she had blacked out.

Which was somewhat worrying considering she hadn’t detected anything beforehand, not to mention the fact she lacked a brain and therefore could not black out, shaking her head in affirmation she felt wet grass beneath her and came to a conclusion. “I’m alive.”

Not only that, but she’d been transported instantly across an indeterminate distance by a power that far surpassed Kaguya’s own manipulation of the infinite and instantaneous which she could resist, but not without some effort. “Hah~” She smiled as she exhaled, "At least it isn’t malicious, well probably.”

If it was, it would've killed her, she decided. Of course, this could still be some overly elaborate cruel prank.

“Might as well open my eyes now.” Doing so, she became aware of the fact she’d been lying face up in a forested clearing, but what caught her eye most of all was the full moon.

“Huh? The moon’s…” She tilted her head as she gazed upon her mark which adorned the moon. “Upside down?” She doubted a human would be able to recognize it, but given that it was an image of her and her senses exceeded that of an average human she could clearly make out the difference.

Getting to her feet and gazing towards the moon, she focused for a moment, casting her awareness into the mental and spiritual layers of reality, reaching out with unseen hands and feeling the texture of the moonlight. “No Lunarians… huh.”

That gave her pause. It had been thousands of years since the Lunatics had taken over the moon and changed the nature of moonlight to instigate the birth of more youkai and induce madness in humans, but she could not detect any lunarian influence whatsoever on the light of the moon.

Which was odd as no matter the earth, even an alternate one, should be affected by the Lunarians, but at the same time, she couldn’t dismiss this place as not being an earth and the planet's moon as not being earth’s moon as her signature still rested upon it.

Frowning she opened her eyes again, receding her gaze from the mental and spiritual layers as she turned to inspect her surroundings.

The forest consisted of large trees, taller than any of the shoots in her bamboo forest, and some almost as wide as a house. “Not an earth, but also not not an earth.” She chewed on that for a moment, “Nah, doesn’t sound right.”

Looking through the tree line she could make out a light in the distance, a campfire, she thought. “Well, when in doubt.” She said, lifting herself into the air effortlessly and gliding towards lights.

There was a campfire with two- no three people there, the third was just small.

Drifting in between the trees she could make out their words and appearance more clearly, they were speaking English, but their clothes reminded her of some European paintings that Kaguya had shown her.

“The Titans, They’ve breached Wall Maria.” A man said reading a letter he had in hand, she could tell he was a larger man, taller than most and standing a good head above both of the women who accompanied him.

Titans? Like the Greek ones? She thought before quickly dismissing it, if they ever breached Hell there was no way this world would be as peaceful as it appeared right now.

“I-Impossible, the walls have held for a hundred years.” One of the women said it was hard to make out with the campfire shadowing her back and illuminating her front, but Tewi thought she had red hair.

Only a h

“Did you see Jaeger? There’s no way such a man would wear such an expression in any other scenario.” A quicker, younger girl's voice rambled out.

“I-it can’t be... Are all of us truly doomed?” The stuttering woman said, lowering her head and cupping it in her hand.
“Don’t be overdramatic, there is still Rose, and failing that we’ll flee to Sina.” The man said, failing to calm the other two.

“H-how did it-”

“I heard there was a giant titan, bigger than any other.” The girl said.

“A Giant titan... Hah!” The three humans exploded into manic laughter, the energy was so thick she didn't doubt that even a human would be able to predict what these three would do next.

Shaking her head in disapproval she exploded into a black cloud. Reforming a distance away with a new appearance, keeping her Asiatic features but without the rabbit's ears, and changing her dress to be more in line with the reserved European style that one of the two women wore.

Closing her eyes and floating above the grass, smiling, she remembers the radiance of her lord, the handsome lard Daikokuten; she remembers Eirin and Kagura, all of her friends. She steps forward, letting fate and divine luck guide where she lands.

Tapping her shoes together and saying a prayer she opened her eyes, only to find she was still in the forest, although it looked a bit different, she could tell there was a clearing behind the tree which now stood behind her.

Standing there for only a moment she immediately recognized the pressure coming from the other side of the tree, a Youkai, or maybe a god? It was hard to tell the difference anyways, she decided.

“Well, there are some things you just can’t help.” Sighing, she walks forward with her eyes open, just in time to see a boy pass out and fall to the ground, as a giant skeleton dissolves into a cloud of steam and black particles dissipating into the air.

“Ah, Kami-sama, why must you burden me so…” She says overdramatically, walking to the body of the boy as uncontrolled spiritual pressure causes an overpowering aura to radiate from his body, flatting the grass and shaking the trees.

“It has been a bit since I raised a kid.”

--

After what felt like an eternity the boy startled away, jolting out of his bed and breathing heavily.
Looking around he was in an unfamiliar room.

Looking around the room he saw that it was a spare affair, a little decorated and small, just big enough for a bed, dresser, window, and door. Out the window, he could see the sun shining on farmland and distant rolling green hills.

Blinking, he only now realizes the tears streaming down from his eyes. Moving to wipe away the tears, he realizes something as he looks at the palm of his hand.“Dad’s key.”

Before he was able to think anymore about it the door to the room burst open as paled skinned woman kicked the rickey door, causing Eren to almost jump out of bed. “I see you're finally awake, “ She said, lowering her raised leg. “I found you in the middle of nowhere passed out on the ground, you’re lucky I was passing by, mind explaining what you were doing out there?” The woman in pink asked.

Eren tried to search his mind, but he came up blank, the last thing he remembered was being separated from- “Mikasa, Armin! I-I” He searched his memory again, but he could only find a gaping hole where the intervening hours had been. “The Titans!” The Titans, that smiling Titan, ate his mother, the Colossus, and it broke down the wall.

Looking at the key strapped to his hand, his mind goes blank once again, searching in vain. “I-i don’t remember anything after being separated from them, I have to find them!”

“Well at least you got most yer memories, you still remember your name don’tcha?” The woman gestured with a wooden stirring spoon she held in one hand.

“My name…” the boy struggled for a second before opening his mouth again, “It's Eren, my name is Eren Jaeger.” He stared at the woman straight in her eyes as if issuing some sort of challenge, but she just laughed.

“Well Eren, you can call me Tewi, Tewi Inaba, or Tewi, Tewi also isn’t entirely incorrect, but Tewi’s the proper way to say it if you want to be respectful.” Tewi smiled and counted herself lucky, despite being European-American they used Japanese characters, well upside-down ones, but still.

“Uh.” Eren’s head still hurt and she wasn’t helping, at the very least he had a place to stay.

“Fine, fine I get it everybody’s a critic, let’s get going. But first I have to finish the stew, can’t start an adventure on an empty stomach, now can we?”

The woman smiled as she hopped out of the room with a careless smile, “what’s with this crazy lady”, Eren wondered aloud, unaware she could hear him.

Climbing out of the bed, Eren followed after the woman. The next room over was a dining room and kitchen, overall it was the second biggest room in the house, looking to where to woman had gone he could see her attending to a pot of stew on the stove.

“You can take a seat, it’s almost done anyways.” She said without turning to Eren, choosing to inspect the stew instead.

Sitting down at the table, somewhat awkwardly Eren exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

“So.” Says Tewi, cutting through the silence before it has a chance to form “What’dya gonna do when you find your friends again?” The question was innocent enough, but it caused Eren’s eyes to go wide.

He had already decided on what he wanted to do before he saw the funeral procession of the Survey Corp members, long before he saw that damned smiling Titan eat his mother. “The Titans…” He clutched at the tablecloth, “I’ll kill them, I’ll kill them all! I’ll join the Survey Corp and free humanity.”

Enemies like that which stood against the entirety of mankind, who had trapped humanity within the walls, who oppressed everyone couldn’t be tolerated

“Be careful! You're going to ruin the tablecloth!” Tewi chided, Eren looked down at his hand, realizing his grip had been so tight, that he’d almost torn into the tablecloth. “This isn’t my house you know!”

Eren was confused, “Huh, isn’t this your house.”

“You're not the only refugee here Eren, we all have our own troubles, we’ll be leaving by midday, I don't want to impose more than we have to.”

That gave him pause “But that mea-”

She sighed, interrupting Eren again. “Yes he had a name, no I’m not telling you it, yes we had kids, no I don’t want to talk about it.” Eren shut his mouth at her harsh and fast words, unable to see past the Youkai's half-truths,

“Now calm down, the stew's done, you can angst about everything later.” Tewi sighed as she used a ladle to pour Eren a bowl of stew, Ah, why do I have to always get stuck dealing with the revenge-driven mad men. She thought as she reflected on a past acquaintance.

How can she just say that, how can… Didn’t know what to say or think, all he could do was seethe against the Titans and try to understand her, how somebody could just see their entire family be killed in front of their eyes and go on living like this was beyond him.

Of course, this was partially due to deception on Tewi’s part. Sighing Tewi spoke again. “But I get it, we’ll be heading towards the wall, Trost, right? We’ll find your friends there and then we can talk about the Survey Corps, those titans won’t kill themselves after all.”

Chapter Text

Sukuna smiled inwardly at the pitiful request of the two kneeling girls in front of him, preparing to slash through the dark-haired one he spoke. “So… Please… Raise your heads.”

Raising their heads, the two looked up at Sukuna, reverence their eyes towards the king of curses. Sukuna sent two slashes toward the black-haired girl, one vertical that would slice along her spine and a horizontal one to separate the top and bottom of her face.

A clang resounded around the subway as a gale of warm summer air exploded from behind the two girls. “Hey don’t do that, it’s pretty rude to kill people ya’ know!”

In front of them stood a tanned-skinned woman, holding a massive watermelon-patterned sword in one hand in front of the black-haired girl. She wore a blue dress with white frills and had a sunflower for a broach, veins which wrapped themselves around her arm holding the watermelon sword, but the most notable thing was the total lack of cursed energy he could feel from her, although her face reminded Sukuna of-

“Uraume?” Crap, did he say that out loud, the two did share strangely similar faces, and they had an oddly similar presence, although Sukuna couldn’t pin down what the similarity in their presence was.

“Huh? Oh, sorry for not introducing myself. My name's Cirno and I'm the one who's gonna be the strongest” The woman exclaimed as the two girls behind her fell backward, stumbling away in right as they realized what happened

In Sukuna’s experience, nearly everybody said that, about a small percentage of them had potential and an even smaller percentage of them became the strongest of their generation.

The woman In front of him, seemed to be some sort of heat manipulator, or maybe the heat was just a side effect or some transformation, there was also that flower and its veins to consider, he could see them moving and they seemed intelligent in doing so.

The two girls scrambled backward and tried to run away, Sukuna sent several slashes at them, only for Cirno to flashstep, blocking each of his slashes with her sword. The whole exchange only lasted under two seconds.

Impressive, he thought, few people were able to keep up with his speed. At the very least the girl had to have trained in physical reinforcement, and few things were able to endure his slashes, much less reflect them like her sword did. Although neither she nor the sword emitted cursed energy, combined with the burst of hot air from earlier he concluded she likely had a self-targeted transformation technique which elevated her to a state similar to the heavenly restriction user he had fought back in the Heian era. Whatever that sword is, it's part of her body.

Nonplussed Cirno cocked her ahead. “You’re Sukuna right? Well, if you're the strongest answer my question! What does it mean to be strong!?” Cirno proclaimed pointing a finger dramatically at the cursed object-human from across from her.

“Aren’t you asking yourself that,” Sukuna stated in a somewhat offended tone, it was tiring back in the Heian era and it was still tiring now, ants going around proclaiming themselves the strongest and asking what strength means. It was worse when people with actual potential like the girl from across from him did it, especially when the answer didn’t matter.

“Hhmm, well..” Cirno trailed off lost in thought before a confident smirk came across her face, “The answer’s obvious, It's to oppress the weak and protect the strong!” Cirno proclaimed, spreading her arms wide as a bright and idiotic smile crossed her face.

Sukuna laughed. “Hahahaha, you may not be Uraume, but like you, Cirno.” Sukuna smiled genuinely as he prepared his next attack, confident in the fact that across from him stood somebody who could provide a worthy fight.

Picking up her sword from where she embedded it into the ground, Cirno took a fighting stance as she readied to clash with Sukuna, warm summer air and fighting intent radiating from her, although Sukuna did not sense the will to kill from the presence she gave off. It's a shame she’ll die today, Sukuna thought.

Starting the fight, Cirno rushed forward with a burst of hot air, stabbing Sukuna with her melon sword to impale him.

Keeping pace, Sukuna adjusted his stance and swiped forward with his index finger, emitting a slash as it made contact with the red-hot blade.

The ground cracked underneath them and a wave of pressure and hot air exploded outwards, damaging the surrounding subway, as Sukuna’s finger and Cirno’s melon blade met.

It took almost all of the curse energy Sukuna was capable of outputting in his fifteen-fingered form with his uncooperative vessel to sustain the clash, but neither was he confident to successfully avoid the attack.

Smiling, Sukuna slashes with his other hand at Cirno, retreating backward as he surrenders the clash.

Cirno dodged to the side, out of the way of the incoming slash, and to Sukuna’s left, releasing a burst of hot air she shot herself even further back, preemptively dodging Sukuna’s follow-up and sliding away from him.

Cirno embeds her sword into the ground, stopping her momentum as she releases another burst of hot air.

Interesting, Sukuna thinks, staring at the woman as she readied her blade again for another charge, a wide smile engulfing her face despite looking visibly more exhausted from that one clash... It’s been rare he’s faced someone who could match him in a clash of blades, but her speed betrayed an urgency, a time limit? It alongside whatever restriction she was using would help explain her strength, although the novas hot air she gave off whenever moving in a burst felt charged.

Sukuna returned her smile, whatever she was using wasn’t cursed energy, nor was it reversed curse energy, although it did feel a bit similar to the reversed curse energy of a couple of miko and shamans he had fought in the past.

Sometimes of nature, of natural spirit energy? Killing her would be a waste, he’d have to draw out her strength and test her first.

Sukuna slashed twice in an x-pattern, only for Cirno to shoot up and respond with her own red-colored vertical slash that shattered the two Sukuna sent her way, following it up she blurred, even in Sukuna’s enhanced perception.

“[Melon Rush]” Cirno exclaimed as waves of red hot slashes shot towards Sukuna alongside her, Sukuna responded in kind, retreating as Cirno was almost on top of him.

Just before Cirno could close in on him, Sukuna felt the presence of a Youkai, and then a molten blast interrupted their duel, hitting Cirno in the side and blasting her through the nearby wall.

Sukuna heard a grunt of pain as the Youkai’s arm left his body, severed at the shoulder. He had sent a slash his way the second he sensed his presence, a fraction of a second too slow to prevent his attack while also protecting himself from Cirno’s onslaught.

“S-sukuna!” The youkai yelled, Sukuna turned to face him. The Youkai was dressed in a robe with a volcano head plugged by two corks at the ears and a single eye filled with panic.

“Please hear me ou-” he pleaded, kneeling down on the subway floor.

“Who said I needed your help worm.” The volcanic cursed spirit felt his other arm leave his body, right before his head left his neck.

Turning around, Sukuna looked at the steaming hole in the subway wall Cirno had left as the body of the Youkai behind him exploded into cubes and then dispersed, Sukuna had already forgotten his name.

Walking towards the hole in the wall, Sukuna could smell something sweet. “Ice cream?” He questioned, while he had never had any himself, he remembered the smell and taste from Yuji’s memories.

Moving into the entrance hole, his eyes widened as he could see Cirno embedded in the wall across from him. She’s a fairy, he realized as he saw her half-formed ice limbs and headset into the wall, having lost their guise of skin on impact, one of her hands pointing at him as it was surrounded by a geometrical ice familiar.

The hand as familiar exploded as Sukuna dogged, barely moving himself out of the way in time for a lance of energy to miss his heart and embed itself into his shoulder. As the lance hit him he could feel the equilibrium of Yuji’s body be disrupted as the speck on his body began to cool rapidly, only for the skin around it to rapidly heat, before a black flash exploded from where the lance landed.

The skin expanded, burnt, and tore as a hole bore through it, tearing off his shoulder. All in under a second. The resultant blast of hot air and evaporated ice filled the cavity where Sukuna and Cirno stood, obscuring both their vision.

An ice manipulator as well, odd thing for a fairy to have two contradictory abilities like this. Sukuna thought as he jumped backward and started casting his reverse cursed energy to heal his shoulder and restore the equilibrium in Yuji’s body.

A mass of ice followed him, sweet-smelling cold air exploding outward as the ice filled the room, crashing into the ceiling and damaging the structure of the subway further, moving as if Cirno was blind, feeling out the surroundings.

A sheet of ice covered the subway as Sukuna began to have feeling return to his arm, dodging Ice projectiles as they emerged from the walls, spikes from the floor, and pillars of ice forming to keep the subway from collapsing.

As his left arm returned to him Sukuna smiled as he saw four Cirnos with pale white skin materialize themselves and emerge from the surrounding ice.

The four Cirnos charged at him, each wielding different weapons, spear, sword, battleaxe, and club. Sukuna sighed, inwardly, this may have been impressive for a fairy, but she was no longer in any state to challenge him.

Sukuna launched countless slashes outward as soon as the clones rushed forwards. The axe, spear, and club-wielding Cirnos, while the sword-wielding Cirno reflexively constructed a barrier to protect herself.

Sukuna grit his teeth, and punched through the barrier with his bare hand, before taking a step forward as he decapitated Cirno.

For a second the Fairy’s eyes widened as her head flew through the air, but just as she began to fall, Sukuna grabbed her decapitated head by her hair as her shocked expression turned into a smile.

“Hah.. well looks like I lost this round.”

It had been a long while since he faced an interesting opponent like Cirno, a fairy that can actually fight.

“Come back stronger next time, ya’ hear that.” Sukuna said, looking away from Cirno and across the crater as he held Cirno’s head in one of his hosts hands, diverting the other one to rub at his chin. “Now, to see what those other brats have been up to,”

“Oh! Don’t worry about that,” Cirno interrupted him as she smiled. “After all, while we’ve been fighting everybody else was evacuated.” Cirno’s smile widened impossibly, smugness oozing from her voice.

Sukuna let go of her head, letting it fall into two pieces, vertically bisected. “Uraume.”

The space behind Sukuna opened into a gap as he spoke, his ever faithful attendant Uraume standing on the other side of the gap in space.

“Yes, my lord,” Uruame said, half bowing as he stood behind his lord.

“Is what she says correct?” Sukuna said, cursed energy gathering at his fingertips.

Uruame bowed his head, trying to hide his fear, but even after all of these years, he had never gotten a complete grasp of Sukauna’s personality, unlike Kenjaku.

But also unlike Kenjaku, Uraume would never betray his lord. “Yes, my Lord. Mister Kenjaku and Miss Yakumo, would like to talk to you about the matter of their escape.” Although Uraume held no qualms about killing or attempting to kill either Kenjaku or Yakumo.

“Very well.” Sukuna said, forgetting the matter entirely. There were always more people to kill anyhow. He thought.

Chapter Text

Vyke did not expect his eyes to open, once the Tarnished who entered his Evergoal vanquished him. He had never suffered a true death before, not been one of the Tarnished to have been called from the grave, just another nameless Tarnished child of Tarnished born in the badlands.

As his eyes stared blankly into the gray sky above him, he would hear the lapping of waves against sand and metal, and the feel of wetness as his armor and ground beneath him grew soggier and damp.
Reluctantly, Vyke forced himself to sit up, bringing the beach and other surroundings into view. The sandy beach was cold and gloomy, off in the distance, he could see the shadow of the sun rising through mist. What little sunlight there was struggled through the air, as it was choked by a thin persistent layer of clouds and the fog of the sea.

Vyke wanted to sigh in resignation as he sat in the muddy sand of the beach. He should have been dead, freed from the dishonor that he had brought upon the dragon covenant, Lansseax, the Roundtable Hold, the Tarnished, and his Maiden.
Yet he had been considered to live by some baleful trick, he didn’t doubt it was what he deserved for convening with the Three Fingers.

But now was not the time to lay down in the sand.

Vyke picked himself up, water dripping from his soaked armor as he stood tall and inspected his surroundings.
The beach was as drab as the sky, secluded in a small sandy cove which made him think of the windswept beaches of Limgrave. Further up the beach rocks peaked out of the sand like helmet graves as the cove became smaller before finally trailing off into a small opening between two cliff faces full of trees.

Next to him, planted into the sand tip first was his war spear. With a single tug he pulled it free from the loose sand, before walking up the shore. Gripping the spear from just beneath it’s crossguard, its flat end met the beach as he used it as a walking stick.

Vyke slung the spear over his back as he approached the cliff face, he would rather scale the short cliff, only two and a half men’s height, than walk through the woods. He needed to get a view of the Erdtree as soon as possible if he were to ascertain his location.

As he crawled his way up the cliff and then stood atop it, Vyke took in a long breath as he gazed into the gray horizon inland. He could see no sight of the Erdtree over the horizon.

Then, as if to confirm his fears, he gazed back out into the gray sea, and his heart sank. Anywhere in the Lands Between, except for maybe the Mountaintops of the Giants, you could see the spectral form of the Erdtree looming over the lands.

He did not recognize any of the environment of the Badlands he had grown up in, and besides the bloodsoaked Lands of Reeds, he knew little of the world beyond the fog.
Across the fog, where no Evergoal could hold him, where the shame of his fall could not be sequestered away, and with no one he knew of capable of putting an end to him if need be.
Far away from Leyndell, Caelid, Limgrave, the Mountaintops, the Roundtable hold and the Erdtree.
It was a nightmare made reality just as surely as his current state was a nightmare made flesh, even the distant hope that those embers of frenzy that burned inside of him might somehow be vanquished and that he could return neither failure nor sacrifice was squashed.
Whatever that Tarnished did, Vyke was still alive, and a world away, not even fit enough to be ground down into a pile of runes and his strength used for another.

Shaking his head to calm his fears, Vyke decided that where he was did not matter. Right now, the only important thing was where he could find a ship and how costly it would be for him to be delivered back to the Lands Between.
doubtless these lands lacked an Evergoal to seal him away in and neither could put any of the inhabitants of these lands at risk of the Frenzied Flame or the touch of the Three Fingers.

Nodding to himself, the man, once a Lord Contender, set out into the seven kingdoms.

The first of the pillagers died without issue, with a single brushstroke flick from Vyke’s war spear the man was cleaved in two, shoulder to sternum. The man had the bad sense to brandish a sword at Vyke while the Tarnished could clearly see the man’s compatriots looting and burning the village.
The second close man had just enough time to realize what was happening, but not enough time to scream as Vyke separated his head from his shoulders.
Although the third man had seen both death and had not enough good sense to lay down his arms and flee, screaming as he quickly found his top half separated from his bottom.

Some few men ran, some huddled, others stopped their attack in fear and froze, but in all of the chaos a bellow of profanities split though the crowd and drew Vyke’s attention.

Atop a horse, perhaps the second most foul horse Vyke had seen, sat a knight. His armor was, was full plate and upon his helm rested a fist pointed towards the heavens, his surcoat was yellow and emblazoned with three black dogs.

The man reminded Vyke of a Recusant somehow
Those blasphemous and cannibalistic knights and ladies sworn to the volcano manor.

The man charged atop his horse as he held his Greatsword sword in one hand.

But Vyke remained unleashed as he stabbed into the man’s horse with his war spear.
Vyke made note of the three dogs in his surcoat, but he supposed it mattered not who the first knight swore his sword to, war was war, and war was rotten in the first place. No need to think of why they did what they did.

The beast of a horse which carried the man bucked him the air, Vyke found it a bit surprising how far the man flew considering his size, but then again he had seen larger fly farther.

The Knight's men gasped or began to make their leave as he landed in the dirt and mud of the village turned to ruin.

Vyke stood tall as the mountain of a man struggled off the ground, the three black dogs on his surcoat bathed in blood.

The man tore off his helmet as he got to his feet, revealing a face twisted hideously twisted into anger and madness. ‘Revealing one’s head, giving into anger, fatal mistakes many a Tarnished made before having their light snuffed out,’ Vyke noted as he took a step back, planting his feet into the ground as he pointed his bolstered war speat towards the enormity of a man.

The man roared in response to Vyke’s challenge, frightening the men who made way for Vyke and the giant, before charging forward with his greatsword in one hand.

Vyke was momentarily surprised by the speed at which the man commanded the blade, but then again he had fought and laid low knights, trolls, and dragons. It never paid to be cautious, but he had already won this fight when he unhorsed him.

The man stagred in his charge as the wind whipped around Vyke. Then, before any but Vyke could realize it, the Candle Knight had launched himself into the air with a torrent of air, and slammed his war spear into the Mountain that Rides.
A scream of metal splitting metal cut through the air as Vyke’s war spear cut though the man’s flesh and armor, imbedding itself into the ground.

Vyke’s feet hit the ground and in a single motion he ripped the war spear from the man’s corpse, his grip tightening as he felt the embers of the Frenzied Flame within howl for release.

Vyke flicked his war spear to one side, launching viscera into the stunned crowd of soldiers as The dead man’s body fell to its knees.

“If any of you are wish to meet the same fate, then you are only need to step forth.” It only took a threat to send the running in fear, like countless Demi-humans who foolishly picked a fight with a knight of the Roundtable Hold.
Although a knight he was no longer.

Over the next few minutes Vyke made quick work of the stragglers, rapists and butchers who lacked the good sense to flee the knightly specter that haunted the riverlands. As he rounded back to the corpse of the pillager's leader, he saw them.

The villagers were there, surrounding the mountains corpse as it layed upright on its knees. Some were in shock, others prayed, some cried, and a child feebly kicked at the corpse as it stayed upright defiantly.

Among them was a man in cloth, some priest of a faith Vyke did not know. His own experiences with men and women of the cloth were Fundamentalists, blind mad men and women, those strange sorcerers of fire and thorn, and most of all the priestess of the Dragon Cult.

For a second he was no longer in the ruin of a village, he was in the half ruin of a temple to the ancient dragon god and before him on an alter she sat, and in her hand was a glaive of red lightning.
Lansseax.

Vyke’s mind cleared as the man stepped before, weeping as he took a knee and clutched some Talisman in his hand.Clasping his hands together in prayer, the old man said. “T-thank you, Ser.” In between his sobs.

Vyke could only nod, he felt nothing in his victory, the giant of a man was just another body to add to the pile. But another part of him felt pride at doing what he could to save the villagers.

Nobody stopped him from leaving, and in his mind, Vyke had no reason to stay.

-Lansseax-

“So you truly haven’t seen him.”

The swarthy man with bells in his hair shook his head, Lanssaex could smell the fear off of him but she didn’t need to, anyone would be able to tell what the man was thinking just by his expression.

Lansseax sighed dramatically before she shifted her position atop the bones, rubble, and red sand of the ruined city. “Qarth, that place you mentioned, it’s in that direction, correct?” She said, pointing off into the distance.

Lansseax shook her head. “Well, if you ever find that knight of mine…” Lansseax paused, bringing a claw up to her chin as she stood on her back legs. Half of her wanted to give him some harsh words, Vyke deserved that much for going off on his own and never getting back to her, but her common sense prevailed. “Tell him, Lanssaex awaits his return. Now go.”
Lansseax dismissed the unimpressive scout with a wave of her hand. She decided that she could voice her displeasure to her dragon knight in person.

As the man fled to his horse, Lansseax kept her gaze out in the direction he pointed to. “Qarth,” she tested the name on her tongue, it was unfamiliar.
Never in the Lands Between had she heard such a name and this land did not remind her of what she had heard of the Lands of Reeds, or any other lands.
The thought of being stranded in some unfamiliar land only brought her some slight anxiety before she dismissed the feeling. ‘Doubtless if I were some human maid I’d be in about panic right now,’ the thought was somewhat humorous to her, before it gave way to genuine worry.
She had still yet to find her Vyke, her dragon knight, hopefully the people who inhabited that ‘Qarth’ place had heard of him if he too found himself in these strange foreign lands.

With that final thought, the fleeing man had finally moved far enough away. Lansseax flapped her four wings, launching herself into the blue cloudless sky.

Chapter Text

Tanya grimaced as she held her cup of coffee in one hand atop her hair, her third life had been far kinder to her than her last two in multiple respects, the wealthy princess of a famed lady and industrialist, but one thing she could do without was the body.
Her current species, Gluckon, had two arms and two legs like a human had, but unlike a human their legs were entirely atrophied. Vestigal limbs hanging below her torso, forcing her and all other Glukons to rely on their arms to support their body, not helped by their too big octopus like head and too small torsos.
Next time they met, she would have to send Being X her regards.

Looking down out of her window and onto the expanse of her factory, Tanya thought of the other non-bodily problems which troubled her.

Born a princess, but exiled to the fringes of Gluckon society due to having too much common sense. Wealthy and secure in theory, but still under threat from unscrupulous business Glucks who’s only means of dealing with problems was slander and attempted murder. Even the kindness she would give to her employees was not entirely repaid, ever since the destruction of Rupture Farms the Mudokon workers had finally started demanding more and more instead of laying down and making Tany’s goal of making their jobs easier, harder than it should have been.
But even then defections to the rebels or natives wasn’t uncommon as she’d like it to be, still when the knives came she had no doubt she’d be able to work with the Mudokons and whoever else joined their insurrection.

Reaching down to the small platform before her viewing window out onto her factory, Tanya brought her coffee up to her lips and took a long sip as she looked out of the window.
There would be no hitching her wagon to a dying horse this time, even if she was sure being X was somehow behind the Mudokons, both their oppression and their rebellion.
Tanya shifted her gaze to the moon as it lay in the night sky above her factory, upon its surface was the infamous four fingered handprint of a Mudokon.
The sign from the ‘gods’ which led to the Mudokons to declare themselves the chosen race and their subsequent subjugation.
It smelt of being X.

“Ahem,” Tanya sent one of her arms to the controller for her chair, turning it around to her head of security, and albino Slig who she had gifted the name Vi. “Boss lady, you might want to see this.”

Plastered across the newspaper headline were the words. “LAST CAN OF GABBAR FOUND!”

Tanya almost spat out her coffee as she read it, she couldn’t believe her eyes, the last can of Gabbit eggs in the world. Her disbelief and then rage ruthered as she read the headline article. The last Gabbit in the world and the Vykers were just going to kill it and sell off it’s eggs.
The last hope of a dying species, and worse yet both Gabbits and Gabbiar were the only known or theorized remedy for Gormendezenza.

“Thank you Vi, you can leave.” She had to dismiss the Slig before her anger showed, it wouldn’t be proper for an executive to be seen throwing a fit.

The slig bowed his head, before leaving Tanya’s office.

Tanya leaned forward in his raised swivel chair, her elongated arms reaching forward to grip the newspaper like iron as she thought.
‘Those fools were just going to pawn it off, likely to some glockstar with too much money and too little sense, like that repulsive layabout Lulu.’
Lulu, oh how she hated him, he was a nobody, an unmotivated Gluck not even worth her own time when she investigated him. She didn’t see what anybody saw in common between her and him, just because neither of them took pleasure in feeding their workforce to their consumer base didn’t mean they were peas in a pod.
But Lulu’s sudden success was almost seemed like a miracle.

Tanya wrapped her fingers against the paper as her rage subsided.
Then, pieces clicked together. Lulu’s sudden rise to power, the Rupture Farms disaster, the Mudokon hand print on the moon, the brutality of the industrialists, the recent activity of the natives. In Tanya’s mind, this level of contrivance had Being X written all over it.
Tanya raged, tightly gripping the paper in one hand.
Gabitt eggs, also known as Gabiar were the only known cure to Gormendezenza as well as being a delicacy, in fact almost every part of a Gabit had its uses. If she could get her hands on them she’d have the market cornered and be able to save the species from extinction.
Lulu or really any other Gluckon would just eat them as food, she didn’t doubt her mother wanted them for her own reasons, and the Vykers were just as likely to have the eggs develop, only to torture and kill the baby Gabbits.

-Phone rings-

Tanya let the paper fall back down to the desk as she pulled her eyes away from it’s wrinkled form to the answering machine on her desk.
There on the answering machine was a single word written in bold electric black letters, ‘MOTHER.’

Tanya grimmiced.

Swiftly her hand descended upon the answering machine, pressing the ‘speakerphone’ button.

“Child. ”Through the cables and wires, and what seemed like half a world away, came the voice of The Lady Margaret. “Still on that frontier? The one near the Mongo, correct?”

“You would know, wouldn’t you.” Tanya stated instead of asking, she sure as knew she didn’t put Margaret under ‘MOTHER’ in her contacts, she’d have to change it back later, and kill whoever broke into her office.

The voice on the other end humped. “It would pay well for you to make some smalltalk child.”

She wasn’t wrong, Tanya knew that, but Tanya had also already spent the first half of her current life dealing with the woman and the unreasonableness of the Glukons as a whole.

“I’d rather we cut to the chase, what do you want!” Tanya enunciated each syllable with as much emphasis as she could manage, she was already in exile and she knew Margaret wasn’t the one sending the ineffectual assassins.

“Very well, Tanya. it’s about your Mudokon workforce-”

Tanya rolled her eyes, workforce they called it, but the Mudokons were slaves stuck at near the bottom of the society they were born into for the sake of their betters. It was a dyspotic, practically communist system where people were viewed only as resources and weren’t allowed to engage in free trade or the right to profit while their overlords lived in luxury.
She didn’t know what her mother, or any rational person held against the Mudokons, but she wasn’t going to abandon all of her principles for a meager sliver of profit. “As always, you’ve been a treat Margret.”

“child-”

Tanya clicked the speaker phone button and took the phone in hand before slamming it down into the answering machine. Ending the call before Margaret had time to reply. Whether she was sanctioned to partake in hunting down the last Gabbit or not this wasn’t something she was going to leave to the Vykers or whichever party ended up buying the eggs, those mad men would sooner filet the fish then ensure the survival of the species.

Turning to her personal Sligie, Tanya commanded. “Vi, ready the airship, we leave at the break of dawn.”
-The Lady Margaret-

“That girl.” The Lady Margaret seethed as the phone line went dead, smoke spilling out in between her yellow, tobacco teeth.

With yellow, stained fingers she brought another cigarette to the intake valve installed into her throat as she pushed off of her desk-platform situated above the volcanic pit which the Magog cartel’s Gluckon production facility was centered around and which laid at the heart of the Cartel’s capital city, Nolybab. Although precarious, The Lady Margaret appreciated the heat alongside her many incubating children who she and her attendants looked after, Gluckon embryos and Gloktigi abominations alike, each of their eggs stamped and marked with their destination for when they did hatch, rank they would receive upon birth, and sponsor.
Of course, like any other good Gluckon they were generously provided the opportunity to earn profit for their darling and beloved mother, as well as the Magog cartel, with even the most affluent and successful, The Lady Margaret’s little Glockstars, earning the opportunity to meet with their mother personally.

“Quite a willful girl isn’t she, Margaret?”

Margaret turned her head to the source of the offending voice. Above her office chamber sat a circular platform that spanned the radius of the chamber wall, the middle of the plat form was empty allowing heat to float up and those who sat on the planform, the investors to look down upon The Lady Margaret.

A spotlight opened up, showing the shadow of one of the investors against a wall as he spoke. “While her entrepreneurial ventures do well she refuses to take the necessary measures to ensure the loyalty of her workforce.”

Another two spotlights shone, more shadows against the wall “Not to mention, her ‘chairty’ towards those layabouts who don't earn their keep.”

Lady Margaret narrowed her eyes as the Gulks looked down on her, uncles, and grandfathers, Octigi parasites, and the worst of all, disloyal children who didn’t know their place. The Investors, those whose interests the Magog Cartel served.

Clicking the tips of her nails together as she intakes smoke with one hand, Lady Margaret opens her mouth to speak. “I suppose I’m the one who’s failed to rein her in.”

She can see them waddling about up there on their hands, worthless wretches. They nod in unison to her comment, before one of them, an Oktigi wearing somebody elses’s body speaks up, it’s calm and deep voice speaking with an accent that did not belong to it.

“Yes and you understand that if you continue to fail to raise your successor correctly, you’ll both find yourselves in an early grave yourself, Margaret.” Just like they had disposed of the others.

Margaret growled as she swung in the air, the heat of the volcanic crater beneath her growing uncomfortable as the gazes of the Investors tightened. “You know full well Queens aren’t in fresh supply, and I am the one Grandmother left in charge before her internment.” The Lady Margaret glared at the investors as they looked down at her from their pedestals. Oh how she hated and relied on them, just about the only person they ever feared was her not-so-late grandmother, still clinging onto life within that cryo chamber of her waiting for the Vykers or whoever else to come up with a cure for the horrible disease which afflicted her.

The eyes of the investors glowed with malevolence as they hunched over the railing, speaking in one voice they said.

“Remember this Margret, while the Lady Queen remains interred we work towards her speedy recovery. You can always be replaced.” True enough, there were other gluckon queens, less fit but they were options. “Now. You have a trial to attend, that good for nothing failure of a gluck Mollock will get what’s coming to him for failing us.” With that said, the lights above her chambers which illuminated the Investors blinked out of existence, and with them the Investors vanished as if they were never there in the first place.

The Lady Margaret spun herself through the air as she left her chambers, sending herself into the cavernous halls of the Larval Birthing Chambers. She did not know who to blame her daughter’s willfulness, but she instinctively blamed Sam, often the victim of their one-sided rivalry. The Mudkon queen was the only person she hated more than the All-Mighty Raisin, and that was purely due to her species, the Raisin himself was far bigger issue.

The pulleys and winches which kept her aloft strained and groaned in pain as she flew suspended through the air, slowly climbing out of the comfortable heat of her office and up towards the subterranean elevator that would bring her atop the largest skyscraper on all of Mudos and upon which sat the largest airship, specifically fitted for her Ladyship’s personal use.

The Lady Margaret herself was a behemoth of a Gluk, her slug like body, taller than a two story house from the tip of her tail to the point of her crown. So gargantuan and heavy, that a race of slaves, the Kinto, were bred and born to deal with the hard manual labor just required to keep her alive and comfortable.
Of course, The Lady Margaret hadn't made keeping herself alive any easier, her stained fingers and teeth, the intake valve on her neck, they all spoke to bad habits which had constantly put her health at risk and cost the Cartel countless moolah in expenses paid towards Vyker’s Lab.

All in all, Lady Margaret was, if not the richest, definitely the most second expensive person to keep alive on all of Mudos. First place going to her dreadful mother.

As The lady Margaret arrived at her destination as she snapped her nails together and pointed at one of the Glocktigi guard. “Call for my Kinto slaves, I expect to be in the air by dawn child, do not disappoint.”

At her word the Glocktigi, hideous homunculus it was, disappeared in a flash of green smoke, leaving to fulfill its mother’s will.

Chapter Text

The salaryman walked out onto the street before sitting on the curbside and resting his head in his hands, covering his eyes as he tried to block out the world around him.

He didn’t even raise his head as he heard footsteps, first distantly, only for them to draw closer. Not caring what would come next or who was approaching him.

“What do you want?” The man didn’t care, whoever they were; he thought his day couldn’t get worse.

But to his surprise, a similarly weary but feminine voice responded. “Mind if I sit down?”

“It’s not my street.” It wasn’t anyone's, not really. The Syndicates and Fixer Office could argue all they liked about territory, jurisdiction, and contractual obligation. But the only thing that cared about what happened in the lawless backstreets and could back it up with full force was The Head, and The Head did not extend its claws idly to such insignificant matters as the weight of a single life.

“Bad day?”

“Yeah.”

“What about you?”

The woman sighed and then began speaking. “I flew away from home, hoping to make it in the world. But in the end…” She trailed off, giving the man who sat next to her the opportunity to fill in the gap for her.

But, the Salaryman didn't really care what her story was, he just invented her to speak so he could complain about his own issues.

“Then the company you worked your entire life to suck up to explodes!”

The Slaryman laughed at his own proclamation, it was ridiculous really, L Corp had only needed around for a decade before suddenly collapsing. When he was younger he thought himself and his parents special for surviving the smoke war unscathed, but that was just a delusion.
In the end, they were lucky everymen with nothing to set them apart or above, nothing to make them worthy of saving in other's eyes.

So when the White Nights and Dark Days, the destruction of L Corp had left countless people unemployed and unwanted. Their relation to the fallen wing and the now cursed ruins of L Corp which countless parties fought over rendered them pariahs, unable to escape persecution for what was beyond their control.

“Well, you wouldn’t believe this, but I was a feather, back when L Corp was still around.” It wasn’t really, many of the former employees of L Corp either died or became destitute after the White Nights and Dark Days. It was pure superstition, but even if so, no one would want to hire a former feather of a collapsed corp that enveloped the entire City in white light for three nights and deep darkness for four days.  “My parents were feathers as well, but then…”

The defeat was heavy in the salary man’s voice as he threw his hands in the air, even as he kept his gaze leveled at the dimly lit street below.

It would be night soon, and the people would lock their doors, and the Sweepers would walk the street. Taking children off the street to boost their numbers and making meals for men and women alike.
He let his hands fall to the ground, as he laughed dryly, exasperation evident in his voice. “It was my first day on the job.”

On the first and last day of the job, just as the day ended, the headquarters exploded into a pillar of brilliant light that shined for three white nights, only to leave a sunless, lightless sky for four dark days.

Raising his head, the salaryman spoke. “So, how about-”

Before he cut himself off, the first thing he noticed was that the woman’s head was a paper mache butterfly, the word that came to mind was ‘monster,’ but the word that stuck was Abnormality.
Her paper mache head was made of torn newspaper and for the most part, the rest of her body was human, even the manner she dressed in was indistinguishable from a normal salary man you would find in a nest or a well-off area in the back streets; Except for the third arm that sprouted from her chest, awkwardly scrolling through the contents of a smartphone that she held up to her faux-head.

Abnormalities were the creatures from which Lobotomy Corporation extracted Enkephalin, the most terrifying and potent form of energy generation and narcotic in the City.
Although he knew nothing about them other than the basics such as staying away, they were very dangerous, and that they were very unpredictable.

“I guess you could say I worked there too.” The abnormality said, scraps of newspapers fluttering through the wind as the wings of her paper mache butterfly head beat back and forth in pantomime.

“But, it was bound to fail anyways.” The abnormality moved two of her hands as if to cradle her head as she sat on the sidewalk. “But, that’s not a bad thing I guess.”

The salaryman looked confused for a second, but the abnormality continued, talking more to herself than to anyone around her. “I figured it would all come crashing down in the first place, butterflies aren’t meant to be long-lived.”

“But I wonder, where do we go when we die?”

“Huh?” The salaryman said, confused about where that subject had come from. Of course, he had to have been thinking it on some level as well, nobody sits on the sidewalk as night falls, practically waiting for the sweepers to take them, without thinking about that sort of subject.

“I just, hope-” The Abnormality’s body began to shudder and convulse, and the salary man’s eyes winded when he realized what was happening. Although only ever a clerk, he had known enough about abnormalities to realize that either she would disappear and he might never get this same chance again or she'd ‘breach,’ and he’d die.

“Wait!”

Thinking fast, the Salaryman decided, that she was his only chance. Despite her inhuman appearance, she was a resident of the city, and L Corps usage of Abnormalities was condoned by the Head. Since the Head did not tolerate non-humans living in the City, That meant that Abnormalities were in some way, human.
Meaning she could be reasoned with and manipulated.

"Why? My life is already over, it's best I pass on-” She said; words of defeat, or her nature. Die, live, and die again. Always a failure.

The salaryman noticed that in one of her hands, she held a dripping red bag that rustled as she spoke.

“-All we can ever hope for is for a flower to bloom at my destination.”

The Salaaryman stood up, waving his hands in desperation. “Wait, no. Look, I can help you, you can help me, we can work together.”

The Abnormalty's paper-mache butterfly wings flapped silently, waiting for his reaction.

The man smiled desperately. “Let me explain, look, we’re both at our wit's ends here, and we have nowhere else to go. I don't know where you come from or who you are.”

A half lie at best.

"But everybody always has a chance. If I can still go on and fight, Please, give yourself another chance!” The salaryman hadn't realized he had raised his voice, and for some of that he was talking to himself more than her, he didn’t know her or what she was

Far too noble a sentiment for this child.

But what he said was not entirely true, as a denizen of the City he would just as soon help her as he would sell her out for his own gain, and indeed that was what he intended. If Abnormalities can create Enkiphalin, then by securing himself an Abnormality he could secure himself a source of the powerful fuel slash narcotic.

“Fine.” The woman said, the wings of her paper mache butterfly head flapping as she spoke.

The Salaryman took a step back as she rose from the curb, her full height dwarfing him.

“You’ll have your deal. You’ll have my strength and will carry me as your burden.” The salaryman tried to interrupt her, to ask for an explanation, but she put her third hand over his mount, silencing him as her paper-mache newspaper head approached his face and she took his hands with her own.
”And when all of this is over, I’ll be the one to carry you in my arms.”

As her paper head touched his own, there was an explosion of light, then she was gone.

As the color returned to the street, the salaryman noticed that he held a weapon in his hands.

The Funeral of a Dying Butterfly, relative to Funeral of the Dead Butterflies, aberration, abnormality. Her life was a story, a story of mourning, a story of an insignificant life cast aside only to be mourned by the sole member of her family.
But abnormalities are in their nature human, and derived from humanity. It is only natural that they are drawn towards humans, and humans are drawn towards them.

Chapter Text

“Come on Arya, focus.”

Arya dodged out of the way of Bernahl’s lazy sword swipe.

“Pay attention, Arya.”

Only for him to chide her again and follow up with another swipe of his wooden practice sword, Arya was no sword master, she was not even a woman grown, but even to her the blatant absurdity of Bernahl was apparent.
The man handled any weapon you put in his hand like he was born into it, and she had no idea how he wasn’t a knight of the king's guard. All the bards and knights would sing of Ser Barristan the Bold, but she doubted they had ever seen Bernahl.

“I’m trying.” Arya gritted her teeth as she felt exhaustion rattle through her bones, dodging another of Bernahl’s casual sword swipes just barely as he advanced on her again.
The only times she had ever gained against him were when he allowed her to, and a part of her felt like quitting the lessons entirely, but somehow she had been learning.

She lacked the words to articulate what it was, but she could feel herself getting stronger and the longer and more she trained the more she felt everything coming naturally to her. Even when Bernahl didn’t say a word and only spoke through his actions.

Bernahl closed his eyes and moved. Arya barely had time to react as she moved her wood sword into place, blocking Bernahl’s practice sword just in time and causing a bright smile to spread across her teacher's face.
Only for Bernahl to then apply more force against Arya’s sword, causing the girl to be knocked over.

“Hey!‘ Arya exclaimed as she fell back onto the ground. “That’s not fair.”

“Fighting’s not fair Arya, you should have dodged, not blocked. Let's take a break for now.”

Taking Arya to the makeshift bleachers along the dining room-turned-practice room's walls, Bernahl looked down at his protege and said. “Arya, if you’re going to succeed you need to have some FOCUS!” Bernahl punctuated the final word with a pump of his arm into the air. “You’ve been distracted all day, so what’s the problem?”

The truth blurted out of Arya like a tsunami. During the cat-catching training Bernahl had set her to, she had run into Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen. In her resulting escape from the entourage of the princess and her younger brother Arya had ended up ducking into the tunnels of the Red Keep where in the deep darkness soft of the crypts she had happened upon a sorcerer and his companion.
The two men in the tunnels had talked of bastards like Arya’s brother Jon, killing her father at the hand of the king, gods, magic, a Khal, and a princess being pregnant.
Arya herself did not comprehend half of what they talked of, for one thing, she had never heard of a ‘Khal’ before nor heard anything of the Dothraki horse lords, so to her that might as well be nonsense.

Bernahl’s face hardened as he listened to Arya, completely unlike his normal jovial self he took a knee and put a hand on Arya’s shoulder, a serious look on his face as he stared into Arya’s eyes. “Arya, ”

“Yes.”

Bernahl nodded solemnly, “Very well, but you need to promise me you won’t go looking into this on your own.”

“But-”

“No buts Arya, whoever these men are they could be very dangerous,” Bernahl said shaking his finger
“Always remember to be careful about what battles you pick.” Bernahl would have warned her against getting caught up in a quest that wasn’t hers.
But it was her father who was at stake, and the realm that she lived in that would suffer. Bernahl himself was already being a hypocrite for deciding to look into Arya’s business, but the last time he warned somebody off it hadn’t worked. That Tarnished wretch, Aseo, had disregarded Bernahl’s warning and gotten involved anyways, and doubtless, everything would have been worse off if Aseo hadn't set down on the path of a Lord.

Arya looked down at her feet with her arms crossed. “Fine, but you have to tell me if you find anything.”

Bernahl’s face lit up and he removed his hand from Arya’s shoulder as he stood up, his previous boisterous attitude returning. “Great! Now, dancing lessons.”

“Right!” Arya exclaimed, moving her wooden sword to a two-hand grip as she faced down the battle master.

-some time later-

Once he had told his lord, the master of the Volcano manor, Lord of Blasphemy, and God Devouring Serpent, Rykard had taken an interest in the girl and the goings on of Kings Landing. The residents of the Volcano Manor had been in such an uproar when they found themselves transported to another world and they had gone about spreading their influence across the continent of Essos.
Bolstering the number of Recusants and searching out for information about the new world. While Bernahl doubted his lord meant any ill will to the Stark girl, it was foolish to believe the Lord of Blasphemy was being altruistic, likely she was to be a captive ward in order to gain some influence over the north.
Either that or the young girl’s natural affinity for sorcery, which even Bernahl could feel, made her a prime target for recruitment into the ranks of the Recusants.

Leaning against the wall adjacent to the wooden door, Bernahl raps against the stone wall, with a hollow thudding sound resounding from the thin stone wall before the wooden door flies open revealing a nearly impenetrable darkness on the other side.
Like many of the castles of Westeros, the Red Keep of King's Landing was wonderfully tunneled and filled with passages that crept into a subterranean layer only inhabited during the long winters.

From the darkness crept a man with a shaved bald head, leering eyes, a too-wide grin, and a long-beaked nose. His clothes were the well-worn garments of a mercenary, and his arms were a simple but well-crafted spear and upon his back rested a massive tower shield which the man carried with seemingly no effort.

Bernahl and the man share a brief nod. “Patches, did you find anything?”

“Nah, just a-buncha darkness and rocks… and the occasional evil magic orphans.” Patches said sardonically.

Bernahl nodded stoically and furrowed his brow. If the supposed wizard and his friend didn't reappear then Bernahl and Patches would be all out of leads, and unfortunately for the pair of Recusants Manor’s influence did not yet stretch into Westeros as it had in the regions surrounding Old Valyria.

The children in the walls of Kings Landing weren't anything new, although he didn't know what they existed for Patches and him that sort of thing was just an occupational hazard. Like those annoying small folk mercenaries the beast men were fond of using as proxies, something you just got ambushed by a couple of dozen of them and had to deal with it.

“You have contacts among the shipwrights, mercenaries, as well as that smuggler. Have they seen anything?.”

Patches eyebrows quirked up, half in amusement at the mention of the smuggler and half as cover as he searched his memory. “Oh! You mean Davos. You know he’s a lord, mayhaps you should call him Lord Seaworth.” Patches said joking.

“If you must know, other than the orphans, there’s been some suspicious ships coming from Essos, and some portly cheesemonger. but for Davos, he wasn’t aware of anything so I told him to keep wise.”

Barnhal looked at Patches confused. “Chessmonger?” What did a cheese seller have to do with this?

“Oh yes, ‘The Cheesemonger,’ Illyrio Mopatis, a slaver, a cheesemonger, and weighs as much as a small elephant.” Patches smiled at his insult, The Cheesemonger was just the sort of pump and wealthy over privileged sot that Patches loved to target, second only to rotten priests and clerics. “But don't you worry about anything, Lord Seaworth is too loyal for his own good and that liege of his is just as stuck up as he is loyal!”

Bernahl shook his head. “Fine, do you have the escape plan ready?”

“Yep! Just leave it all to trusty Patches.”

A slight smile graced Bernahl’s face. “Trusty Patches?”

“Well, I can’t go around introducing myself as ‘Patches the Hyena,’ can I?”

-Sometime later-
Arya had not had as much trouble focusing since Bernahl had started investigating the two men in the tunnels of the Red Keep, although

The lack of progress worried Bernahl, especially since Patches and his contacts hadn’t seen the Cheesemonger who was their only lead so far.
One obvious suspect was Varys the Spider, spymaster to the king and a portly misshapen man-thing, bald, hairless, swaddled in a cloak of cloth and presume, and with pale almost albinoid skin.
The man resembled an overgrown baby and Bernahl could not rightly assert him as being entirely human. In truth he reminded Bernahl of the Godskins, although they had seen neither head nor tail of the gloam eyed spawn since arriving in the new world. He had voiced these concerns to lady Rya and Patches, although neither knew what to make of it. In the end, all Bernahl and Patches could do was keep their eyes open and prepare for the worst.

Bernahl had been thinking of it for quite some time, he still did not believe Arya was ready to graduate her training but it was better she heard his story now rather than later. “Arya, have I told you how I came into the service of my lord.”

Arya’s ears perked up excitedly, Bernahl had barely ever talked about his ‘lord’ some enigmatic figure across the narrow sea that he was a ‘recusant’ to. “No, tell me.”

“Hmph, it was a long time ago now and I was a more foolhardy and self-righteous lad then. I was a proper knight, with a maiden by my side and a good story to tell. But in my quest, I ended up sacrificing my maiden.” A curse, the duty given to the Tarnished was a curse and a duty, the fickle workings of gods.

“That…”

“Not a good story, I know. But what I’m trying to tell you is this: Sometimes a quest is better ignored and a battle not fought, but if you do end up needing to defend yourself, do it with full confidence and full of resolve.”

“But at the end of the day, you’ll have to use your own judgment eventually”

Arya nodded, not fully understanding what Bernahl meant.

It was then that the door to the room blew open, a knight of the Kingsgaurd flanked by three Lannister men on each side. The man’s face was instantly recognizable to Arya, Ser Meryn Trant.

“Arya Stark, come with us child.” Ser Meryn bellowed in a commanding voice.

Arya jumped back would her father send one of them and not a northerner?
The answer was obvious, he wouldn’t.

But before Arya had time to reply, Bernahl stood in front of her with both of their wooden practice swords in each hand.

“Arya, go.”

“The Hand of the King requests the presence of his daughter, dancing instructor if you do not step aside-”

“Arya, go,” Bernahl said again, looking back at her now, an intense look in his eyes.

“I said-” Arya exploded in movement as Ser Meryn opened his mouth, and the room exploded into violence.

The men, three and three set about flanking Arya and Bernahl as Ser Meryn drew his blade, but Bernahl didn’t give them a moment to react, exploding into a flurry of surprisingly painful sword swipes with the wooden practice swords he held in both hands.

As Arya fled through the half-open door to the cellars behind her she heard Ser Meryn grunt in pain, and then the sound of metal against flesh.

-Moments later-

Bernahl’s zweihander slid cleanly through the last man

“Good, I didn’t want her to see that.”

Bernahl glanced downward at the half-dead Meryn Trant, before grimacing and placing his boot atop his head.
Meryn Trant didn’t have time to process what was happening as his head was pulped like an overripe orange against the floor of the Red Keep.

Sighing Bernahl grabbed his zweihander’s blade with his hand, and then slid the palm of his hand down the blade causing blood to flow from his hand.

Assassin's Gambit, the skill of a Recusant which traded a small fraction of the user's vitality for increased stealth.

As Bernahl’s presence faded from sight, he spoke. “Now, to find the girl and the Hand.” And then he was gone, leaving a room empty of all life behind him.

Chapter Text

Eren hung his head low as he pushed open the rickety door and entered the house, behind him trugged Tewi carrying groceries in her hands as Eren sulked.
Their house was a modest thing, short and squat, made of wood, and just big enough for the two of them

“Usa~” Tewi sighed. “Such a hard day at work, been keeping yourself busy Eren?”

“Yeah.” Eren gloomily nodded his head as Tewi set her groceries down on the table.

“C’mon I had a long day at the clinic and I need your help with dinner, we’re having soup again.”

Tewi looked to Eren as he brooded and silently cut up the carrot she had given him.

“You said your dad was a doctor right?”

Tewi said, handing him a potato to cut into chunks as she cut into the chicken she had bought, rabbit was also an option but Tewi had made enough concessions for Eren’s sake and wasn’t going to jump straight into rabbit-cannibalism.

“Yeah.”

“He ever teach you anything about medicine?”

“No.”

Tewi nodded. It was a bit surprising to her that Eren hadn't received any training in medicine, he was already fourteen, and in a few years he would be considered an adult by the society within the walls.
Combined with the key strapped to Eren’s hand, the medical equipment she had left at the dissolving corpse in the woods, and the fact the man was an amnesiac made this “Grisha Yeager” incredibly suspicious to Tewi.
That wasn't even mentioning Eren's strange hang-ups about the walls and freedom, maybe in someone a bit older but from the way he talked about his past he had always been this way.
Tewi shook her head and filed that away for later, for now, she’d have to rectify Eren’s education.

Moving the cut-up chicken onto a pan, Tewi talked as she walked over to the fire.

“Well, how about we fix that, I don't work weekends and you need something to do. Maybe you can even join me at the clinic sometime?”

“I'm going to join the scouts,” Eren said definitely as he cut an onion in half as if that somehow was a counterpoint to Tewi’s words.

Tewi left the pan above the fire as she turned back around to Eren.

“So? I know how to fight as well, I can teach you some of both, besides you might need some first aid knowledge while in the scouts.”

Eren crossed his arms, then after a second of thinking about it, nodded his head in affirmation, much to Tewi's relief.

“Hand me the vegetables will you?”

Tewi said, taking the bowl of vegetables from Eren and then pouring it and the now sufficiently cooked chicken into the soup. All the two needed to do was wait on the chicken soup now, of course, that meant keeping an eye on it.

“Now-” Tewi started as she proceeded to go over the basics, Hippocratic oath, basic sanitation, things she was already sure he either should have known or did know but were important to establish a baseline in what he knew nonetheless.
Eventually, Tewi poured the two of them soup and as the two sat around the dinner table, Tewi decided it was time to broach the next topic she had thought of earlier.

“So.” Tewi started, pushing her half-finished bowl of soup away from herself, but Eren kept on eating his soup and ignoring her.

“You still haven’t heard anything about your friends, Eren?”

“No.”

Tewi took a breath, she had been preparing herself for this small speech and she wanted to make sure she got it right. She didn’t want Eren to not care about or give up on his friends but if he had some mysterious destiny type thing like she expected and he was going into the scouts anyways, it was better he be emotionally stable.

“Okay, Eren, I don’t want to say any of this to hurt you but-”

“I KNOW! You don’t think I know what-”

“Eren!” Tewi snapped, cutting him off mid-sentence and flexing her youkai power to ensure he wouldn’t interrupt her. “I can’t promise you that either of us will find them, but I’ll try my best. Okay.”

Eren balled his hands into fists and the wooden spoon began to splinter.

“That’s what we’ve been doing already.”

“I know, I know Eren, but as a growing boy I can’t just have you sulking around all the time and getting into fights with people, you need to have something to do other than skulking. That’s why I want to teach you medicine earlier. I can teach you some fighting as well.”

Eren nodded his head as he took another spoonful of soup, even as tears welled in his eyes.

“Also… I may have landed myself a new job that might help with the search.”

“Huh?”

“The military is looking for more doctors and I had an interview with them today, if I get the job I’ll be able to ask more important people, higher up to keep an eye out for Armin and Mikasa.”

Of course, that was dependent on whether she got the job, but Tewi was confident she would. She had observed gods skilled in medicine to such a degree even to make the humans in the modern world look like chimps playing with leaves, and she had even trained and been taught by one of them.

The rest of their day had been quite busy with Tewi introducing Eren to what she considered the basics. Eren was a good streetfighter, especially for someone who didn’t have any training, although that wasn’t even close to teaching him controlled flight. Something he theoretically should be able to do with how much of a youkai he felt like, Tewi reasoned that if Rinosuke could do it so could Eren.
He also took to the basics of medicine possibly, basic even by the standards of the society within the walls.

After that, the sun had set and Tewi waited for Eren to fall asleep so she could ascend their small house and look up from the wall.

Looking up at Wall Rose, Tewi began to ponder the Walls.
Each of the three walls stood fifty meters high and stood concentrically around the capital from outermost to inward, and named in that order Maria, Rose, and Sina. Tewi couldn’t accurately estimate their circumference due to lack of measurements, but even without them, she could tell they were far too long to be defended.
The creators of the walls took that flaw into consideration and constructed four fortresses along each of the walls in which a town was built.

But that still left the three questions; who, what, where, why, and how. The why seemed obvious, the Titans. But what society that could build the walls also couldn’t fight off the Titans?

Tewi clapped her hands together as she formed her preliminary theory. Just like Gensokyo’s creation, the creation of the walls was meant to contain a human population in order to supply a target, in this case, a god, with Faith. It could have also been a youkai of some sort who wanted the fear from a human population to sustain itself.
Of course, that theory was flawed, if the walls were a Gensokyo-like existence where were all the gods and youkai? The Titans existed but she was unsure of what they were, they were certainly Youkai-like though, but she’d need to get her hands on a Titan researcher to draw any real conclusions.
Or it could all be the fault of the Lunarians, somehow.
Satisfied at her own deductions, Tewi smiled to herself as she stepped over the edge of the roof and disappeared into a cloud of black smoke.

Tewi’s indistinct form raced across the surface of the street and through alleyways of Trost and soon she was at the wall.

Tewi’s feet touched upon the cobbles of a forgotten and lightless back alley, as her form solidified with her hand trailing along the wall. The wall had a stoney texture and was a uniform beige in color, not a single stain or crack along its surface.

“Hmm.” Tewi hummed to herself as she put one of her hands to her chin. The wall was definitely not made conventionally, concrete could probably get the feel and homogeneity correct, but the wall was entirely unblemished like the concrete they used on the moon.
But it couldn’t have been that, the wall smelt of Impurity, like a bog or a mass of decaying corpses.

Pondering this, Tewi continued to run her hand along the wall until she smiled. There it was, a hole in the wall, a miniscule hole, a single crack, not larger than a millimeter. But it's just big enough for Tewi to fit into.

Smiling, Tewi disappeared into another puff of black smoke and flew through the hole.

Tewi didn’t know what she expected to see, well as much as she could see when she was an indistinct cloud of black smoke, but a thin layer of crystal covering what looked like a giant skinned Titan wasn’t what she expected.

At least that answered why the wall smelt of impurity. Feeling along its surface Tewi could feel a distant and dull warmth coming from inside and she briefly mused on how this was probably why the top of the wall wasn’t as cold as it should have been.
Deciding that there was only one thing left to do, Tewi Scunched up what would have been her face, and touched the mind of the sleeping titan.

-Within Wall Rose-

When Tewi opened her eyes the first thing she noticed was that the wall of crystalized flesh she had laid her hand against had turned into sand. Her other senses screamed that this wasn’t an earth, it was an otherworld of some sort, and everything here, the sand making up the wall included, wasn’t physical.
Higher up the wall she could make out the faces and upper halves of the immobilized figures easier now that they weren’t behind the opaque crystal, although that wasn’t much help.
Unlike the Titans from outside of the walls the Titans which made up the wall had a skeletal look to their faces making it so that it was impossible to tell one apart from the other.
Tewi it was certainly odd, although now that she thought about it, when she had asked Eren about what he had seen when Wall Maria was breached he did say the Titan which towered over the wall didn’t have any skin.
Tewi put her hand to her chin as she wondered what that could mean, before shrugging it off and spinning around.
She could see then that the wall indeed followed the path of its physical counterpart and completely encircled her, although what stuck out the most were the glowing tree limbs that snaked inwards from behind the wall and pointed outwards like accusing fingers.

Tewi’s ears perked up as she flew into the sky, the familiar feeling of weightlessness and control bringing comfort to her. Unlike in Gensokyo, flight wasn’t a common skill among the not-quite-humans of the walls and would have made her stand out like a sore thumb. Even without that, lacking the reinforcement of the Barrier of Reality and Fantasy Tewi found herself weaker when on the not-quite an Earth the humans of the walls called home. But this place was thrumming power, Tewi could feel the spiritual and mental layers of reality flex and change the physical just as easily as they did in Gensokyo

Cresting Wall Rose, the great luminous tree in the distance became much clearer. Even without being a master of the magics and sciences like her own master was, it was clear that the tree was the source of this realm. Brimming with power, Impurity, and Godliness as it was, Tewi could feel the heat of its radiation against her skin.

“Ha! Reimu Hakurei, eat your heart out.” Tewi laughed aloud, even without understanding the situation fully her instincts screamed that whatever this thing was, it was in part the culprit of this incident.

Continuing her bit, Tewi posed as she floated above wall Rose. “Looks like there’s a new incident-solving maiden on the scene, and I didn’t even need to get into a fight.” The shrine maiden Reimu Hakurei, also known as the Crimson Slasher, was famous for her ruthless campaigns of ‘investigation’ which involved thuggishly assaulting anybody who looked at her weird and somehow stumbling onto the real culprit due to her own innate luck.

Tewi continued her investigation as she suddenly sped off towards the luminous tree in the distance, only to notice that she did not move. Looking back down, she could see Wall Rose below her and in the distance, Wall Sina and the tree.

Again, Tewi attempted to speed off towards the center of the ringed walls, and again she found herself not moving at all.

‘INTRUDER’

Looking down to the wall Rose below her, Tewi could feel the empty eye sockets of the Titans staring.

‘WHY HAVE YOU COME’

“Well, it’s nice to meet you two mister?...” Tewi asked, trailing her sentence off to give the wall time to answer.

‘INTRUDER, WHY HAVE YOU COME’

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, mister ‘INTRUDER, WHY HAVE YOU COME’, you can call me Tewi Inaba.”

‘WHY HAVE YOU COME’ The wall said again, ignoring Tewi’s attempts at conversation.

“Well, if you must know, I’m an investigator, an Incident Solver.” Self-proclaimed. “And I’m here to solve the case.”

‘THERE IS NOTHING TO BE SEEN WITHIN THE WALLS, THIS LAND IS PEACEFUL AND ITS INHABITANTS KIND. RETURN TO WHENCE YOU CAME’

“Nothing to be SEEN? I don’t think so, for one thing, there’s an army of humans turned monsters outside the wall, you being some amalgamation of human souls, and how can we forget the countless people eaten by Titans?”

‘WE ARE THE SHIELD OF PARADISE, THE BULWARK OF THE PEOPLE OF ELDIA, CHILDREN OF YMIR’

“Just like Maria was?”

The sentinels did not answer, and the kilometers of the sandy wall did not speak a single word.

“In the first place, I can’t go home yet, I haven’t even found a way home. So for the time being you’re just going to have to put up with me, Miss Wall Rose.”

The wall continued in silence, ignoring Tewi.

“Well, if you ever need some help, from one god to another. I’ll be here.”

Tewi shook her head in disappointment, while she was certainly strong. She was no fighter and trying to take on whatever this god-thing was in its own territory while she knew little about it was foolish. Although it did answer where the wall had come from in part, like she suspected it was the work of the god and the body of one as well.
One massive go-shintai surrounded the people which Wall Rose called ‘the people of Eldia’ and this also has something to do with a ‘Ymir.’ Although as she faded out of the entity’s realm and back into reality, Tewi noted that again, her investigations only brought more questions.

Tewi had heard about a cult of people who venerated the walls, maybe she could talk to them?

-Somewhere the bounds of within Wall Rose-

Armin’s back hurt and sweat ran down his brow as he plunged the pitchfork into a pile of hay. Many of the refugees, he and Mikasa included, had no place to go after the giant titan destroyed the gate into Shiganshina district and breached Wall Maria. With no work or home, the refuges had either turned to banditry, continued on to Trost, joined up with the military, or found work as farm hands like Armin and Mikasa did.

They had little other option, with no skills and being so young they couldn’t really leave and the farmer was even-handed and paid them fairly. The manual labor did as much to distract the two as it did to leave them to ruminate on their thoughts.

“Armin.”

Armin froze as he heard Mikasa’s voice and a shadow came over him in the half-lit barn. Blocking the entrance to the barn was Mikasa, blank eyes and her shadow cast across the barn by the backlight from the setting.
Armin could barely make her out, her form appearing indistinct and ominous.

“Y-yes.”

“Eren.” Armin felt his stomach drop when she said his name, Mikasa had a single-minded devotion to Eren that Armin couldn’t hope to match, and with his sudden disappearance in the middle of the night she had only gotten more frantic. Changing from rage to sorrow to panic at the drop of a needle, it was entirely unlike how the normally reserved and calm girl was, and Armin barely had any idea how to handle it.

“Armin, do you think we’ll see Eren again?” Mikasa asked

Armin shook his head, too fast and full of anxiety. “Y-yeah, I’m sure we’ll find him Mikasa. We just have to do our best and- and-”

But despite his best efforts, he was betrayed by his own voice, anxiety leaking through as he tried to reassure Mikasa.
Armin had convinced Mikasa to say she hadn’t liked the idea and neither had Armin, but they needed the money, and wandering around penniless wouldn’t do them any good or increase the chances of finding Eren.
Eren had wanted to be a scout, so Armin and Mikasa would work at the farm until they were old enough to join the military, no matter what if Eren was alive he would join the scouts as soon as he was able to.
If they didn’t find him then, then Armin and Mikasa would still join the scouts anyways and carry on Eren’s dream.

Mikasa didn’t move, continuing to stare Armin down like some beast and terrifying Armin into standing still and causing an anxious silence to descend over the barn.

Only for the silence to be broken a moment later as Armin’s stomach growled looking down at his stomach, Armin realized how late it was. “Oh, is dinner ready?”

Mikasa blinked. “Yes”

And then she was gone, departing the barn just as soon as she had appeared, leaving Armin to plant his pitchfork in the hay and follow after her.

Chapter Text

“Erase the girl, huh?” Marisa pondered, looking at a soda can she held in her hand before looking up into the sky, and asking, “Does this mission feel off to any of you?”

“Don't worry,” Gojo said waving back to Marisa as he and the other two continued past the vending machines, “If something’s really up with Yukari’s next incarnation we can spare her, who’s going to stop us?”

“Oi,” Reimu spoke up from beside him, “What part of that granny becoming an enemy to humanity didn’t get through to you? We’re going to secure her next vessel.”

“Yawn!” Gojo said, speaking his boredom out loud, “Don’t be such a downer Reimu, I’m sure we could handle it if it came to that.”

“Perhaps,” Ghetto said, “I don’t doubt that the four of us could stop Miss Yakumo if it came to that, but I’d rather we not put the whole of Japan at risk. At the very least Miss Kamishirasawa seems to believe that would be the result if we fail here.”

“Fine,” Marisa sighed, relenting as she caught back up with the rest, “But I want to get this Meribel girl’s opinion on the whole thing first.”

“That seems prudent,” Ghetto said, agreeing with Marisa much to Reimu’s annoyance.

Here stood four friends, the four strongest members of their generation. Hakurei Reimu, the orphan daughter of the Hakurei clan. Satoru Gojo, blessed with the Limitless and the Six Eyes. Suguru Geto, curse eater. And finally Marisa Kirisame, a western-style Japanese witch and genius bar-none.

Despite ostensibly being here to clandestinely protect their target the four stood out like a sore thumb. Reimu and her modified shrine maiden’s uniform cut into a crop top with detached sleeves. Geto, dressed like a Buddhist monk despite his long hair and young age. Marisa was dressed in a white-and-black outfit that looked like the cross between a stereotypical Western magician and a stereotypical French maid.

And finally Gojo, who dressed like a normal high school student. Only further accentuating the eccentric manner in which his companions were dressed.

“You know, but what I’m interested in is who are these people who want to see Yukari become a Youkai?”

“Idiots,” Reimu answered, huffing as she crossed her arms. Earning her an eye roll from Marisa and an amused smile from Gojo.

“It would be difficult to track down any one reason,” Geto said, uncrossing his arms to bring a hand to his chin. “Miss Yakumo isn’t popular despite how integral she is, and there are countless Youkai who would love to see a return to the Heian era and those who would just like to profit from the chaos.”

“Hey,” Marisa said, jumping up, “I think you’re forgetting some people, what about those Buddhist Youkai who want to live alongside humans?”

“Or humans who foolishly covet the power of Youkai,” Reimu shot back, giving Marisa a judgmental stare, much to Gojo's chagrin.

“Ah scary, I said I was sorry,” Marisa apologized, putting her hands up as if that would ward off Reimu. “Besides I was twelve when I tried to block out the sun, and you can’t blame me for that anyways Mima-sama-”

“Mima-sama,” Reimu repeated, looking at Marisa as if the girl was walking garbage.

“Ah, ah, okay Reimu no need to look at me with such a scary expression,” Marisa said, hiding behind Gojo. “Besides last time someone almost turned into a Youkai it ended up fine, didn’t it?”

“Only because Miss Yakumo had planned the entire thing,” Geto sighed, “Poor girl, that Kosuzu, normal people like her shouldn’t have to be caught up in our business.”

“She’s the one who was interested in us in the first place,” Gojo pointed out, still body blocking Reimu from getting to Marisa. “And we all know Marisa wouldn’t do anything foolish enough that we’d have to stop her.”

“R-right, thanks Gojo,” Marisa said, jumping up to pat him on the shoulder.

Reimu was going to say to the effect of, ‘As if I have any faith in Marisa to not do that,’ ‘as if I’d let you become a Youkai,’ or maybe even, ‘If you do make sure you don’t get yourself killed.’ But instead, she bit her tongue. Her instincts told her it was better to not snap back now, even if she wanted to say something, in fact, it was probably better to not broach the subject of Marisa’s infatuation with Youkai.

‘Dammit, Marisa, don't get yourself killed,’ Reimu thought as the conversation died down, internally seething as the four high school students arrived at their destination.

In front of them was the large skyscraper hotel where their target slash sacrifice was living.

That was when an explosion burst out of the building. None of the four said anything as time seemed to slow down, falling out of the building was a blonde-haired girl, their target, Maribel Hearn.

Reimu slashed through space air with her Gohei and disappeared through the gap it cut in a single motion. Gojo flickered out of existence as he teleported. While Marisa went for her Mini Hakkero, Geto summoned several of his Youkai.

As Marisa and Geto stood back to back, all on the ground level outside of the building, their enemies revealed themselves. Youkai, fairies, and several masked soldiers poured out of every nook and cranny in a mess of claws, fangs, blades, and guns.

Still, up in the air a girl launched herself from the side of the building Maribel fell out simultaneously with Reimu emerging from a gap to grab Maribel. The girl swiped forward with a claw hand, a purple blur as Reimu ducked back into another gap, disappearing again.

Then Gojo hit her. The heel of his foot slammed into the girl's head bursting right through her cloth cap and breaking through the back of her skull with a plume of black smoke and a sound like the crack of lightning.

The next moment the girl’s body was hurtling towards the ground and Gojo was gone again.

Down on the ground, Reimu exited her gap again, Maribell in her arm to see what Marisa and Geto had gotten up to in her and Gojo’s brief absence.

Marisa and Geto, their surroundings flattened as well. Trees, concrete barriers, and all plant life flattened. The only disturbance in the scene was the smoking craters where now dead Youkai were quickly dissolving into nothing. All the while Marisa’s drones floated around her and Geto’s dragon Youkai loomed over them both.

There was no trace of what fairies had appeared while the soldiers looked to have either died or clued in fast enough to retreat from the immediate epicenter of the two’s destruction, leaving a quarter of their number forming a circle around where the students gathered.

That was when Gojo flickered back into existence, landing next to Reimu as the knocked-out Maribel was placed in between the four students.

Immediately after that, the girl Gojo had spiked landed, cratering into the concrete below with a meaty thud and a plume of black smoke that betrayed her nature as a Youkai. Regardless of what she was, the cloud of smoke she kicked up as her body broke the concrete beneath it flowed outwards and filled the area.

Of course as everybody there has senses far beyond a normal human’s and everybody more or less expected the impact, none of them reacted. The students stood stock still around their target as they waited for the soldiers of the youkai-like girl to make her move.

Then as the cloud of dust started to settle, the girl Gojo had spiked began reciting, “It’s been washed away. The waves wash the old moss’ hair,” as she rose from her crater.

“Oi, quit it with the poetry,” Reimu said, her eyebrow twitching as she held her Gohei, pointing at the girl half shrouded by the dust.

“I thought she was okay,” Gojo protested, smiling as he did so. Trying to get a rise out of Reimu even at a time like this.

“Well it’s nice to meet you anyways!” The girl, no the woman exclaimed, perking up at their comments, “My name is Miyako no Yoshika, I think I was a poet when I was alive.”

The girl smiled as she hopped out of the dust cloud, her sickly pale skin sizzling at the sunlight as her body healed itself, wounds that bled red blood and black mist sealing themselves. Her manner of dress was similarly odd, looking like an ancient official with her tall purple hat and black robes.

“Oh yeah, sorry about not introducing myself,” The lady said, smiling blankly, “I forget things a lot nowadays, but Miss Seiga says I have to eat that girl who’s in the middle of you four, so could you please step aside?”

That was when one of the military-dressed men stepped forward.

“I would ask the same,” The man said as he straightened his cap. “Surrender now and nobody has to get hurt.”

Marisa blinked, “Uh, sorry who are you guys again?”

The leader of the three men’s eyebrows twitched, “We are Q, the organization for a new world order and I am Q’s top soldier, Vayer. Our organization will bring about a new age of reason where people like your kind no longer keep the masses placated by bread and circuses, no more will the world of the supernatural stay hidden from the public!”

Reimu rolled her eyes, Ghetto smiled warmly, and Gojo laughed.

“Well, we can’t exactly allow that, can we?”

“And so it begins,” the businessman said as he stared down at the four students and their enemies, “My employers may not have the force ourselves, but we certainly have plenty of funds and capable allies, don't we?” The man said, turning his head to look at the three assassins who sat behind him.

Sitting from left to right was an old man garbed in green robes and equipped with two swords. A girl who appeared to be similar in age to the four students but who held a butcher’s knife in one hand and whose body was surrounded by coils connected to a purple-colored and closed third eye. And finally, a thuggish-looking middle-aged man holding a beer can in one hand.

“I would prefer we act as soon as possible,” the old man said, his beard brustling as he inspected the students below, “I don’t like to see youngsters getting hurt.”

Toji laughed, but Youki just shook his head. Disappointed in the youngsters he found himself surrounded with. “I am only here on request of my Mistress,” the old man said, “And same as she, I desire this to be over as quickly as possible, there is no reason to drag out the girl’s suffering.”

“I agree with Mister Konpaku,” the girl said, “I’m not really fit for this sort of i”

“You can relax miss Komeiji,” the businessman said, “Just follow Zenins lead and-”

“It’s Inaba now,” Toji said waving to the man, “I took my wife’s last name.”

“Hoo, the rabbit clan,” Koishi said, “I wonder what a child of you and the Lunatic Clan would be like.”

“Hm, good for you, a man as indolent as you needs a wife to keep him in check,” Konpaku said, nodding to himself.

“Eh? Who said I was involved in her life, she’s fine with me just the way I am anyhow.”

“It’s a shame then,” Konpaku said, sighing. “Inaba-sama is quite a kind and generous individual, hopefully, your actions do not provoke her or the wrath of her Clan's Lunatic Red Eyes.”

“Right,” the businessman said, “But you understand, don’t you Miss Komeiji, just follow these two old timers and everything will be okay.”

“Old timers…” Toji said, grumbling as he retrieved another can of beer from the cooler, “Unbelievable.”

“Hmm,” Komeiji said, tapping her butcher’s knife to her lips, before nodding her head. “Sure thing mister businessman.”

“Well as long as we can keep them tired and on edge we’ll be able to take them out at their destination,” Toji said, cracking open his can of beer, “If you have any reservations you can attack right now old man, me and the girl can clean the rest up later.”

Youkin sighed, “Very well, I will stay my blade for now but we are no true allies, Mister Inaba.”

“Well nobody says any of you have to be friends,”. The businessman interjected, “As long as the girl dies we all get what we want.”

Youki relented, shaking his head. “Kids these days.”

Chapter Text

The cherry trees were in full bloom at Hakugyokurou, filling the air with cherry blossoms and the sweet scent of vanilla that filled the halls. The servants fluttered about, right and left, faceless apparitions preparing meals, sorting out rooms, and caring for various tasks. Yuyuko and Suika sat across from each other, sitting on pillows with A banquet spread across the table that separated them: roast duck, boar, beef, and other unidentifiable meat alongside numerous sweets and bottles of Sake. After everything else, a covered wooden container was left centered on the table.

"Thank you for preparing this meal, Youmu."

The half-phantom bowed, "You are welcome, my lady. I live only to serve you."

Suika laughed, "Wow, you're as much of a suck up as ever, ya'know."

"Ah, please don't be mean to poor Youmu, she really did put a lot of effort into this."

"Whatever, it's just nice to hang out like this. The shrine never has enough food."

Yuyuko agreed, "Yes, it's nice that we're able to have such an enjoyable get-together, Suika."

The two of them lapsed into silence as they began eating, taking from every plate while leaving the wooden container untouched. The conversation was light and enjoyable, with jokes about acquaintances, questions about what the other had been doing recently, and laughter.

"You should have seen how Yukari was back when I was causing everybody to party, she was so worried about me but didn't have the heart to say it or to explain to others what was going on, talk about shy."

"Yes, I wonder how our Yukari would be if a certain someone were kinder to her? Perhaps if they invited her to spend some time with their friends."

"Please, it's your shitty encouragement of her, half her problems are caused by that overly shy, attention loving personality. I'll show you what, I'll go right to her house and drag her to the village, that'll do her some good!" Suika shot back.

"Perhaps you should treat her with more kindness than, don't think I don't know those rude things you say about our Yukari."

"Please, you've given that dirty trickster her fair share of grief. How about you do it yourself, princess, invite Yukari to a party yourself!"

"I'm not the homeless bum here you Oni, the Yama has her demands. Maybe if you went back underground where you belonged and gave poor Yuugi a break, you'd have an excuse."

"Please, she's handling herself fine, besides, it's not like I have anything to do with what she or the others get up to nowadays."

Yuyuko rose from the table and tilted her head to the side, innocently and dog-like. "So, how about we settle this with a Danmaku bout?" In contrast to her polite demeanour, a black aura grew from behind her, causing Youmu to take a step back as Yuyuko's smile became vicious.

Suika almost burst out laughing, her chains rattling as a black aura appeared around her, "Now, you're talking!"

The massive waves of pressure each of them emitted began to solidify, blowing the doors to the room out into the courtyard outside, but that was when a gap cut clean through the space between them.

"Just what are you two getting up to, playing Danmaku without me?"

Yukari appeared in the door frame with a popping sound as she closed her gap behind her.

Instantly, the tension in the room vanished as both of her friends put on their best faces. "Yo, Yukari, nice to see you!" Suika said, smiling as she rubbed the back of her head.

"Although I wonder how you were able to find us?"

"If you can believe it, a certain white rabbit told me when I visited Eientei. She's quite the gossip, you know?"

Yuyuko turned her head to where Youmu now stood in the corner of the room, looking nervous as she rested a hand on her sword. "I, uh, might have mentioned something to Reisen," Youmu gulped.

Yuyuko shook her head, "Youmu, what am I going to do with you?"

Yukari didn't waste any more time, stepping past the threshold into the room as Ran appeared behind her. "I'm a bit offended to see my two best friends hanging out without me, you know? Ran, what do you think about this?"

"They could have offered you an invitation, but-"

"See, you should have invited me," Yukari pouted, gapping in a pillow for her to sit down on. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to dig in."

Suika blinked. "Uh, you sure about that? I don't think this meal will be to your, uhh... Tastes."

"Mh, yes, Suika's right. We should go to your home, I'm sure you have something more suitable there."

Suika felt her eyebrow twitch; they had danced around the subject for Yukari's sake, but she could really be oblivious. "Oi, idiot, it's human."

Indeed, all the roast duck was gone, even the boar and beef, leaving only a few meals prepared from human meat. A delicacy in Gensokyo and the Netherworld, something that neither of them would ever be allowed to eat at a shrine banquet. Across the whole table, there was

Yukari moved before anybody could stop her. "Well, what about-"

--

Yukari shut her mouth as she saw what was in the covered container, a singular football-sized soup dumpling that barely contained a human-sized brain inside.

"It's something the Sumireko girl showed Youmu," Yuyuko explained, "The outside world sure has a lot of neat ideas."

Yukari stood frozen, looking at the massive human brain dumpling as some black flame swirled behind her eyes.

"My lady, perhaps it would be better if we returned to Mayohiga, I'm sure, Chen and I can prepare something for you three on short notice."

"No," Yukari protested, puncturing the dumpling with a spoon and taking a heap of brain matter into her mouth.

Yukari chewed deliberately, doing her best to show off to Yuyuko and Suika even as the sound of human brain matter in between her teeth made her stomach queasy. Finally, Yukari finished chewing and forced herself to swallow the brain matter, holding down her vomit all the while.

"See," she said, breathless and flushed, "I'm a real Youkai, over one thousand years old and everything, in fact I-"

-page break-

Yukari trashed back and forth on the operating table, foam coming from her mouth as the wards of the room buckled, desperately trying to hold her back. Above her stood the head doctor at the Hourai Pharmaceutical group, Erin Yagakoro.

Eirin deftly dodged as Yukari split the space where she stood, surging towards the bound patient in a single jump as she pressed a syringe into her.

"There you go, miss Yakumo," Eirin said in a sweet voice, "Just go to sleep, we can't have you hurting anybody else, now can we?"

Yukari's eyes fluttered as she fought against the urge to sleep, but she was far too unaware of herself to mount any substantial effort as her eyelids closed. The wards surrounding the room calmed down as Yukari stopped struggling, and Eirin finally relaxed, removing the syringe from Yukari.

"This certainly is a strange case," Eirin said, "It seems she's developed multiple types of prion diseases in a short matter of time. Has she eaten any human meat recently?"

Ran sat across from them booth bandaged, "Yes, but not a lot, it was only a single bite before she started foaming at the mouth."

"Yes, well, this isn't beyond my ability to treat, although she will be occupied here for quite some time."

Ran cried. "Oh, this is all my fault, if I had stopped her or, or-"

Eirin was at her side in an instant, holding the nine-tailed fox and petting her head. "Don't worry, Ran, this isn't your fault. Yukari isn't a child,"

Ran sniffled. "Yes, it's just hard to forget that sometimes, with how she acts, I'll... manage in her absence as I do every winter, I'll have to talk with Reimu."

"I'll see you later as well, Ran, if you ever need help with anything, just ask."

"I will," she said, nodding to Eirin and moving from her touch.

Ran left the room, giving Eirin an opportunity to slump down in her seat as she let out a sigh. "Well, let's get right to fixing you up. Tewi really should be more careful."

Chapter Text

Kiwi spoke, relaying the coordinates of Faraday and what she had done to Falco and Rebecca on the other end of the line. She could tell someone else was listening in, but didn’t care; she was past that point now.

She was at the end of her rope, bleeding out, propped up against a dilapidated buck-a-slice as Faraday’s goons closed in. She had betrayed them all to get here: Lucy, David, Rebecca, Maine, all of them.

Really, it hadn’t been worth, it and Kiwi wasn’t sure she would regret it if her emotions were ever flipped back on.

All around her the city spun, lights blared into the night, searing through her retinas, and the chrome of the nearing goons flexed as her hands danced across the net and touched them. In the distance she could hear a truck race across the barren part of the city she had landed in, tearing its way across an overpass.

"...Faraday’s turn to be betrayed. Go get ‘er for me.”

Kiwi switched off the connection as the two hired guns turned the corner. They leveled their guns, Kiwi met their gaze and all at once her life flashed before her eyes. Her parents, faceless silhouettes that they were. The factory, small hands building devices beyond their comprehension, and the shitty old man that ran the place. The brothel the old man had sold her to.

Then the white-carapace of of a monster, looming huge over her, with gleaming red eyes. Kiwi decided that she’d miss him, although she would never admit it.

With one last push, she closed her eyes and felt the chrome of the two hired gun’s respond. Even if she was going to die, she’d take them out with her.

"Jesus what the fuck is-”

Kiwi felt their chrome go silent as her eyes flew open. Before anybody could react, a bone white limb impaled one man as the other one died screaming in a flash to green. The one who had been shot got off easy, his now headless body slumping to the floor, but his friend gurgled in pain, limbs spasming as he fruitlessly tried to free himself from the leg that had impaled him.

Standing a mere foot from where Kiwi lay stood a tall and gaunt creature, skeletal and insectoid, standing on four spine-like limbs that end in nubs.

"Ah, so I guess I wasn't hallucinating, bastard.”

"Your attempts at subterfuge and betrayal are as short-sighted as ever, child.” The creature said, his clicking voice full of irritation as he cocked his head to the side. "Next time, ask me if you need assistance.”

She remembered when they had first met, the old hag who owned the brothel. The annoying old bug had never left her alone since then.

"Krika... You bastard-”

"I am Makuta, you shall address me with respect, child.” Krika answered, lowering his head to scoop Kiwi off the ground.

"Ha, haaa~” Kiwi laughed. The blood loss, sudden drop in adrenaline, and Krika's actions, at odds with his words getting to her.

That was when an employee exited the back of the buck-a-slice.

"Wait, what the hell is-”

The cannon on Krika’s back swerved to meet the man, killing him before he could react. Krika turned away from the crater, shaking the impaled corpse off of his front leg as he drained the last of the energy from it.

He jumped into the air, folding up his limbs, flattening out into a disc-like shape as he repulsed the ground beneath him, floating upwards. He climbed and climbed ascending to a barren overpass above where a featureless black truck sat waiting, its engine still running.

Krika opened the back of the truck with his front claws and bowed, causing Kiwi to tumble off from where she laid perched on his back and into the transports

"Ow...” She complained, the world around her growing dark as

"Now, I will examine you.” He said, his spiked limbs deftly unhooking the clasps on her mask.

Behind her mask, her Matoran mouth flexed awkwardly. Unlike the mouth of a human, it consisted of our interlocking quarter circle pieces, but still allowed her to speak and eat. It had been an unwelcome upgrade afforded to her by Krika, he had seen no reason why she should keep the memory of her past so close to her.

Kiwi complained at first, but time and time again the mouth proved to be useful, at the very least for not losing her lunch whenever she was fit with an EMP. Krika’s eyes scanned her up and down, seeing deeper than her skin and inspecting the motors and other enhancements he had made to her over the years.

Krika retrieved a makeshift Kanohi mask from a palette in the truck and attached it to Kiwi’s Matoran mouth. The mask flexed and fused where it met her skin, hugging her features seamlessly.

"You are fine for now, you will not die.” Satisfied with his inspection, Kriks folded his body up and laid it on the other half of the truck.

Kiwi’s eyes looked forward, unfocused as Krika left his body, his gaseous antidermis form slipping from the suit and then into the robotic truck.

"I tagged the AV of the bastard."

"I heard. We will be entering pursuit shortly.” Krika replied, his full chrome body in the front seat slamming its foot on the peddle. “Your systems will regenerate in the meantime, afterwards I will tell you of the importance of friendship and the story of six toa who-”

Kiwi groaned, tired of Krika’s stories already. Her crew was a bunch of cyberpsychos anyways, even if Krika did fix them up like he did with her she doubted it’s stop them from doing something stupid and getting all of them killed.

Really, she should have betrayed them even before Maine almost killed her. She supposed she could just tell Krika about that later, he’d let up on her once she had the time to explain.

But as she closed her eyes, she did so knowing that things were going to be okay. Krika had never lost a fight, and always looked after her no matter how much she rebelled against him.

Chapter Text

Rhys' hands shook as he fiddled with his ceremonial robes. It was his first-ever pair of ceremonial robes. Today was his tenth birthday, the day he would receive his first Pokemon just like every other member of his clan. In days past a clan member was expected to catch their own first Pokemon> It had eventually become a formal ceremony where the child would have their Pokemon pre-selected by their parents and the village's Pokemon breeders.

He had waited so long for this day and couldn't stop thinking of the possibilities. He could get a Swinub like his uncle, an Absol like his father, a Sneasel like his grandfather.

'Clair said Swinubs isn't cool, but she's dumb. I bet she's just jealous that my family's Ice types counter her family's Dragons!' The youngest Blackthorn had gotten her Horsea last year and had gloated ever since.

Rhys finally managed to put his robes on correctly, smiling to himself.

Only for a knock from the door and a gentle voice to bring him to attention
"Rhys dear, are you ready? It's almost time."

"Yes Mom, I'll be right out."

"It's mother, dear." She said. Her soft voice brought a smile to Rhys' face as he exited the room.

His mother looked down at him with a smile that didn't rise above her painted lips. She was dressed finely as well and carried herself with a grace she perfected over many years.

"Good, now come along, dear. Everyone's waiting."

With that said, she ushered him along, keeping a hand on his back. With every step he took a fluttering feeling ran through his body and demanded he run down the hall at full speed. Rhys resisted that urge, even as he took shaky steps.

As she saw him struggle, his mother sighed. One part was happy at the work he had put in to maintain his composure, another part was tired of raising such a rambunctious and troublesome child.

It was only a short walk, and the pair eventually arrived before the ceremony chamber. Outside, an older man and a Mamoswine waited for them. Each sat beside the great double door that served as the entrance to the ceremony chamber, the man on the left, and the Mamoswine on the right.

"Rhys! How's my favorite nephew?" The man said, waiving to the two of them.

"Great!" The boy said, trying to hold himself together."It's so good to see you Uncle Pryce!"

"It's good to see you two Rhys, I trust you haven't been giving your mother any trouble."

The Mamoswine rolled its eyes. Everybody there but Rhys knew the real answer to that question.

"Nope! I've been on my best behavior, you just see!"

His mother winced behind him at his explosion of emotion. She loved to see his shining face, but he was always a handful. She hoped some responsibility would mellow him out.

"Well, I wish you luck, and don't worry we chose the best Pokemon for you." There was a slight mischievous tinge to his uncle's smile, but only his mother saw it. Rhys' was far too blind to social cues to take notice.

Rhys nodded to his uncle and stood before the large double doors breathing shakily. His mother stood behind him and prayed for success.

"All right, open up. The boys' ready." His uncle called, slamming the flat of his hand against the door.

Then the doors opened, revealing the rest of his family. The room was barely illuminated with candlelight, turning half of the people in the room into shadows. That was fine for Rhys; the only person in that room who he wanted to see was his father. Beyond his immediate family, the shadowed forms of the Blackthorns sat. Lance grinned, Lance's father with an unreadable expression, and Clair looked down at him.

As the smell of incense hit him, Rhys walked forward, his mother following swiftly behind.

In the back of the dim candlelit room sat a raised platform like a stage and before it a single cushion large enough for Rhys to sit on. A pair of thin curtains sat in between them, blocking the view of the stage.

The only thing he could see on the other side of the curtain was an indistinct silhouette that made his heart race. Doubtless, it was his Pokemon, so close, the anticipation was killing him.
"Sit." His father said.

Without even thinking Rhys crossed the room and sat on the cushion placed in front of the stage. He shook as he lowered his head in reverence at the shadow of his future partner, heart beating all the while.

He heard the shuffling of his father's robes as the man raised a hand. At the sound of the gong, the veil was lifted revealing the silhouetted Pokemon.

She was a Sneasel; blueish-black fur, two sharp pointed ears with a short spiked feather gave away her gender, a pair of claws on each hand, and a petite body even for a Sneasel gave away her young age. An elegant, peaceful look graced her face as she held her eyes closed. On one side she was flanked by a male Weavile with an impressive plumage of feathers atop from his head.

Right before the Sneasel sat a black Pokeball sat atop another cushion, shining in the candlelight.

Rhys was in awe. He had seen both Sneasels and Weaviles before, but to Rhys, at this moment she was the most beautiful Pokemon he had ever seen.

'This is my Sneasel, on my day, the start of my journey, the beginning of Clair and the clan recognizing me as a man, the-'

Rhys' thought process cut off as a black colored Pokeball impacted his face and set him flying onto his back and lying on the floor dazed.

The room was silent as they looked at Rhys knocked over and sprawled on the floor before all eyes were drawn to the assailant. She stood victorious over Rhys, raising a claw in the air as she released a victorious chirp. It took the Weavile standing behind her a second to blink and snap out of his shock, before he promptly rushed forward and slammed the blunt of his claws into the back of the younger Sneasel's head, knocking her out cold.

Behind them, himself, Pryce burst out into laughter as the furious Weavile began to chirp loudly at the Sneasel. Rhys mother put a foot forward as she went for her own Pokeball.

"No." Rhys' Father said, holding up a hand. "Let him get up on his own."

Rhys rubbed his face as he sat up from the floor, stunned as he realized what had happened. The angry chirps of the Weavile echoed in his mind. Beside him, he saw the Pokeball sitting listlessly on the floor. Rhys took the ball off the floor with a shaky hand and looked at his own reflection on its surface. He was red with embarrassment and shock, he could feel everybody's eyes on him, judging him, like worms burrowing underneath his skin. He fought the urge to snarl or frown as he took his eyes off his reflection and looked straight ahead at the Sneasel as it was berated by the Weavile.

Hate, furious hatred overtook him for a moment and he thought that he would throw the Pokeball to the floor shattering it into a million pieces before he left the Sneasel to get screamed at. Instead, he was clutching the Pokeball tightly and tossed it towards the incapacitated Sneasel.

The ball bounced against the Sneasel's head with a hollow, wooden sound, before the Sneasel disappeared into it with a flash of red.

The Weavile's hands snapped shut as the Sneasel disappeared from in between them and turned into a trail of red light that was swallowed whole by the black Pokeball. The Weavile looked at Rhys and the two held each other's gaze as the Pokeball fell to the floor.

The Pokeball wobbled once, a wavering sound echoing around the room.

Twice it wobbled and Rhys felt himself sweat under the gaze of the weavile and his family.

Finally the Pokeball righted itself with a ding and the Weavile retreated to the platform. Rhys heard the footsteps of his father's heavy wood sandals as they beat the floor and the man's shadow towered over him.

"Good." Rhys could hear the smile in his father's voice. "looks like you've caught your first Pokemon. Now you just have to train her."

Rhys already knew that Sneasels had a reputation for having bad attitudes, but as he swallowed his own spit and stood up, he realized how bad-natured they could really be.

Rhys and the Sneasel stood at opposite ends of the room which bore the scars of their conflict. His ceremonial robes laid tattered on the floor. The Sneasel was scuffed, and a bit taken off of her red left ear tuft.

He held her gaze as she leered at him, inspecting the other for weakness as they circled the room.

In an instant, Sneasel disappeared in a flash of movement. Rhys stumbled backward as her feet met his gut, toppling him over. She was on top of him, triumphant, holding a claw in the air as she chirped.

Rhys breathed heavily as she walked up his body, until she sat down on his chest, straddling his collarbone as she smiled. Rhys sneered back up at her, baring his teeth as she raised a claw. Before Sneasel could scratch his face, Rhys grabbed her head first, sending the Sneasel flying away with a throw.

Once more the two of them stood at opposite ends of the room, panting as they prepared to attack. He waited one moment, then two, and as he predicted, Sneasel vanished in a blur of movement. But this time Rhys moved just in the nick of time and throwing out a punch that caught her as she reappeared.

She spun through the air, then bounced as she hit the floor and rolled into a wall. Sneasel lay there, catching her breath as she forced her up to stand. Rhys and her locked eyes as she stood, waiting for the other to do something. Sneasel ran her tongue along her teeth, feeling them until she found a loose tooth ready to fall out. She tensed her body as she spit it out, the tooth landing on the floor with a trail of blood behind it.

Rhys took the first step, and then Sneasel took the second. The two walked towards each other, a fire behind their eyes.

BAM!

Before either could do anything else, the door to the room flew open. The two froze mid-combat as their fathers stood in the door frame. Rhys' mother was behind them, a shocked expression on her face.

Both of their fathers' sighed.

"We leave you alone for five minutes, and you two are already at each other's throats." The Weavile growled, clicking his claws together as he looked down at his daughter.

Rhys and Sneasel wilted as their fathers stepped forward, looming over them. Rhys' mother stepped forward, brushing past her husband and the Weavile as she retrieved her Pokeball and clicked it open. In a flash of red, a Chansey appeared in the wrecked room.

The Chansey blinked as it took in its surroundings, waving to Rhys' father as his mother continued on. He didn't resist as his mother picked him up and sat him down in her lap, commandeering the last remaining chair in the room.

"Chansey." Rhys' mother commanded, spurring the pink blob to action.

The large pink Pokemon responded with a happy chirp, placing its hands together and firing a Heal Pulse at Rhys and then the Sneasel.

Rhys looked himself over as his scratches and bruises disappeared. The Sneasel felt around her mouth again, feeling where the new tooth had grown.

"Now, Rhys, and you too Sneasel." His mother stressed their names. Her pink hair frayed at the edges as she spoke. "Neither of you are going to hurt the other, or you're in big trouble, understand?"

"Honey." Rhys' father said, stressing the word.

Rhys' mother looked between her husband, and the impatient and angry Weavile and sighed. "Yes." With that said, she opened her Pokeball, retrieving her Chansey. Rhys hopped off of his mother's lap, landing on the floor with shaky legs as Sneasel stood up.

His mother exited the room without comment. Her robes flowed behind her as she closed the door on her way out, leaving the two children to their punishment.

Rhys' father shook his head as he looked away from the door and to his son. "Rhys Mahogany, do you believe your actions here to be inspiring to me, ennobling to our clan, or in any way honorable."

Rhys looked down at himself and his tattered robes, then to his father, the Sneasel, the room, the Weavile, and then back to his father. It was so slow his father could practically see the gears turning in his head.

"No, father."

"Then why did you get into a fight with your Pokemon?"

"She-"

"I do not care who started it, you should have handled yourself better!"

"Sorry, father." Rhys bowed at the waist. "She was being disobedient and tried to scratch me so I-"

"I don't want excuses for your behavior either."

Rhys held himself back from baring his teeth and speaking. 'I wasn't making an excuse for myself, I was explaining why I did it.' He knew that would only cause his father to talk more.

"Why did you want a Pokemon in the first place? What do you want to do with your life?"

Rhys thought about that for a second, trying to track down the source of his earlier excitement. Clair was constantly talking about the Horsea she got every time they played together and she was spending less time with Rhys. That and he wanted to impress his father, but he felt admitting that out loud was embarrassing.

"To beat Clair and become a man."

"And?"

There was a beat of silence in the room. Rhys hadn't thought of anything more. 'Does he just want me to say something to make him happy?'

"Live a long quiet life and die peacefully at an old age surrounded by my family?"

His father's eyes narrowed. "Not incorrect, but not sincere. You just heard someone say that and told me it so I'd be happy."

"Yes, father."

"Well, it didn't work." Rhys went back to looking down at the floor, trying to hide his face as he gritted his teeth.

'What does he even want from me, why won't you smile, get really angry, show something, anything.' Of course, he already knew what his father wanted. He was just furious even at the man's always stoic demeanor which had never even looked at Rhys with a smile.

"And you, Sneasel?"

Both her and Rhys' father looked down at her, small even for a Sneasel, her short red ear twitching with embarrassment. She looked up only for a moment and half-grumbled, half-chirped out something that barely sounded like an apology.

"Clearly both of you direly need more discipline, perhaps we should throw you two into the ice path immediately. Test your mettle against a real challenge."

Rhys sweat as he kept his head pointed towards the ground, only moving his eyes to see the similarly pale expression of the Sneasel next to him.

The Weavile made a sound that was half-growl, half-chirp. Rhys didn't know what he said exactly, but it sounded like he was half in agreement.

"Then they better shape up. Otherwise, we'll have to make them regret failing us." The Sneasel's father chirped, causing the Sneasel to wilt even more.

"Either way, you'll be going to the Ice Path eventually, how about one week?"

Rhys and the Sneasel nodded, knowing they didn't have another choice.

"Now, what are you two going to do?"

Rhys shook, as he brought his gaze up to meet his father in the eyes, trying to hold himself still. He swallowed, then turned to his partner beside him and bowed.

"Sneasel." Rhys' voice had become calm, monotone as he bowed to her. "I'm sorry, you're my Pokemon and I should treat you with more respect."

His words were insincere and rehearsed, with almost no understanding on each others' part.

The Sneasel chirped awkwardly in response, nodding her head before remembering to bow.

Rhys' father clapped his hands together. "Good, first steps are important with matters like these." Rhys could still feel his father's gaze on him judging, and he thanked him for being merciful. "If you two are going to be partners for life, you might as well figure out how to live with each other."

"Now, I will give you two the rest of the day to yourselves. You are free to traverse the mansion grounds as you see fit. Good day."

Rhys' father turned on the spot and opened the door, exiting the room to leave with his wife who waited outside. The Weavile lingered a moment longer, before closing the door and departing in the direction opposite Rhys' father.

Now alone, Rhys and the Sneasel were left to collect their thoughts.

'Right. I'm not giving up on this relationship, I'll make it work for the sake of my family!' And of course, for the sake of his own pride.

Rhys and the Sneasel looked at each other, the flame that was behind each other's eyes earlier had gone out. Only leaving quivering embers. Both of them sighed.

"So, what do you say, partners?" Rhys asked, his voice wavering as he kneeled down to offer Sneasel a hand.
Sneasel's red ear twitched slightly as she gave him a skeptical look.

"Eh? Why are you looking at me like that?"

The Sneasel grumbled under her breath, clicking her claws together. 'Just like her father...' She looked back and forth, before reaching forward and taking Rhys' hand in her own.

"Good?"

The Sneasel chirped in agreement. It looked like the both of them would have to try their best, or else.

They went to the training yard first; it was most obvious spot of the innumerable locations within the Mahogany Manor. A vast complex of rooms and buildings now weathered with time, leaving only half of its luster undisturbed.

Above, birds flew through the sky as the sun looked down at Rhys and Sneasel from its zenith. A distant yellow eye shone rays of light down through the light gray clouds that filled the sky.

The courtyard was stone, and in its center, an area was indented into the floor, filled with various training equipment. Wooden dummies, target practice, pits, areas for climbing, and a series of wooden panels that looked like a maze. From the second floor of the surrounding building, shadowed figures watched the two, but neither Rhys nor Sneasel gave them any mind.

Rhys had gotten his backpack and laid on the edge of the area where he sat. He held a pencil in one hand and a notebook in another as Sneasel sat next to him.

"So, Mom always tells me to make a list of things when I don't know what I want to do first."

Sneasel nodded but didn't look at him, kicking her short legs as she sat on the rim of the arena.

"So we have: Beat Clair, pass the Ice Path challenge, become better partners, catch more Pokemon, impress Dad, and... Anything else?"

Sneasel looked over at the notebook, and frowned. His handwriting was nearly illegible, even her handwriting was better. She rolled her eyes and grumbled something out.

Rhys' nodded at that, not really understanding what she had said, but making his own assumptions. "Okay, we have to beat your dad in a battle and figure out what you can do. Is that right?"

Sneasel face palmed, turning towards the courtyard's exit.

"Hey." Rhys reached out grabbing her by the arm. "I'm trying my best. You have to try to!"

She thought about it for a moment, trying to weigh the pros and cons, before sighing. Reluctantly she heeded Rhys and turned around, only taking a moment to look at him before hopping down into the arena.

"So!" Rhys stood up, looking at Sneasel from above. "You used Quick Attack on me earlier, what else do you have?"

One by one, Sneasel went through the moves she knew. Vanishing in an instant to appear as a dummy and attack it, firing out a bullet of ice in a flash that crashed into another, leering at a target before cutting deeply into it with a scratch.

"Okay, you can use Scratch, Ice Shard, and Leer." He still felt embarrassed from earlier, but this small amount of progress distracted him from that. "Clair's Horsea is a water type, so it won't be until it evolves until a Kingdra."

Sneasel looked back up to him as he started talking to himself, her ear twitching in annoyance.

Rhys looked down at the type chart he had drawn in his notebook. 'Is there something I'm forgetting? Dragon resisted water, grass, fire, electricity, and fire. Water resists water, fire, and steel... yeah, that looks right.'

"Okay, if we're going to beat Clair one day, we're gonna need a grass type as well," Rhys says, proudly looking down. "But Ice Path has a lot of ice types, so a rock, fighting, or fire type could help on that front."

Rhys got quiet for a moment as he tapped his pen against the notebook, thinking about what to do next. Sneasel started making her way back to him, only for Rhys to burst into action.

"We're not gonna make any progress here, come on Sneasel!" He said, stuffing his notebook and pencil into his backpack, stopping only to wave to Sneasel

She rolled her eyes, an annoying excitable person like Rhys was the exact opposite of what she wanted. If she was going to be stuck being some crazy kid's Pokemon she may as well try her best, so she can live in the lap of luxury. At least that was her reasoning.

Chapter Text

--

Tenshi's alarm clock blared from her nightstand, its electric shrieks silenced a moment later as she turned it off. She rose from bed lazily, her sheets sloughing off her body. She stretched her arms as she sat in bed, letting the gentle rays of the sun run across her naked body. Finally, she stepped out of bed, leaving the sheets a mess as she walked to the restroom. She continued without thought as she turned the shower knob all the way to scalding hot.

As she stepped into the shower, she let the water hit her skin without flinching and washed herself. Although her body was already inhumanly perfect, she paid special attention to her hair, running her hands through it slowly. When she was done, she stepped out of the shower, dried herself off, and tossed her towel into a dirty clothes hamper. At no point did she cast her gaze to the bathroom mirror, sink, or toilet.

Back in her room, Tenshi went to her dresser. Just like every other morning, she frowned at its contents, going to her closet only to find the same array of identical clothes lined up next to each other. Then—just like every morning—she retrieved a long-sleeved white button-up shirt, black blazer and pants, white socks, and a well-worn pair of tennis shoes. When she dressed herself, she rolled the sleeves of the white shirt up and wore the blazer around her shoulders like a cape, only held in place by a clasp.
In the first place, a ten-year-old going about her morning routine like an adult as an oddity. Epically since she lived alone.
Only then, as she folded her arms and looked herself up and down in the mirror, did she decide it was time to properly start her day.

She exited into the main room of her apartment, walking over to the dinner table and swiping a peach from the bowl at its center. As she sat down to read a magazine and eat her breakfast of peaches, the unnatural silence of her apartment settled in like it did every morning. She continued to eat peaches in silence until, just like always, a knock came from the front door.

"Tenshi," Iku's familiar voice said, her tone rehearsed, "Are you ready to go to work?"

Tenshi put down her magazine and brought a half-eaten peach with her as she opened the front door. Iku stood there in the doorway, dressed in her black suit, slacks, and tie. Contrasted against her long purple hair that cascaded down her shoulders. In short, Iku looked like she always did. "Iku, I want a sundress and a sun hat as well. Both of them have to be white."

She nodded. "Ma'am. We can go shopping later today, but you have to come into work, the commissioner–"

"Right, right, I'm coming." She said, waving off Iku. Tenshi pushed her way past Iku–the Devil of Earthquakes–as she tried to avoid thinking about the annoying commissioner.

Tenshi stared out of the window listlessly. It had been five years since her last death, five years since she, her sisters, and the Devil Hybrids tried and failed to kill Chainsaw man, five years since the Japanese government found her, five years with no substantial progress on anything. Well, she had gone about collecting an assortment of devils, as well as a small cadre of humans who were under the effect of her ability, unknowingly or not.

Tenshi sighed as she looked out the window. Even as she pondered her situation, she couldn't help but feel bored passing by the same streets every day, killing and capturing devils far beneath her notice. All because she died and had the bad luck of being captured by humans, now stuck in a situation where she needed to play nice until she could turn the tables on them.

Iku was patently ignoring her charge and master, having rapidly grown accustomed to her moods since she had come into contrast with Tenshi. Finally, then, Tenshi threw her arms up like a child:

"So, what's this case?"

"Some yakuza have contracted with the Zombie Devil; we are to exterminate them."

Tenshi rolled her eyes. "Sure, whatever, sounds interesting."

"Is something the matter, my lady?"

"We still haven't made any progress on capturing Chainsaw Man. How else am I going to make my new world?"

Around them, the cityscape thinned out, suburbs and smaller buildings arising out of the landscape, soon to give way to hills and green fields.

Iku adjusted her center rear-view mirror so she could look at Tenshi without turning around. "My lady, have you heard of the German by the name of Schliemann?"

"I don't keep up with human affairs."

"Very well, he was an archaeologist obsessed with excavating the ruins of an ancient city called Troy," Tenshi perked up. At least the city was vaguely familiar, something to do with one of her siblings, the war Devil, several thousand years ago. "He was so obsessed with the city, he didn't cast a single glance at the ruins of the cities built atop Troy."

"And?"

"His efforts to uncover Troy were commendable, but in doing so, he cast away everything else for the sake of his goal, destroying the sites built atop Try." Iku shook her head. "Archaeology is slow and methodical; it's a scientific process where you can't cut corners like that."

"Uh, what does that have to do with me? I'm not an archaeologist."

"My lady, I have friends. Human ones. If you are going to save humanity, recreate the world in your own image, then you must first start with saving humans."

Tenshi rolled her eyes. "Same thing, same difference."

Iku shook her head, but didn't protest as their destination revealed itself in the distance, a simple warehouse nestled in the countryside. It was only a short while, and then they arrived.

"We're here."

Iku slowed the car to a halt as they arrived at their destination, a desolate warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The two exited the car, but Tenshi could smell it before she saw it: countless dead bodies, devils, the still-beating blood of a human, and adrenaline. She and Iku continued their slow advance, even as the smells of carrion were joined by the revving of chainsaws and the indistinct screaming of a boy. As they arrived, Iku stepped ahead of Tenshi and pried open the garage door to the warehouse, the sound of wrenching metal echoing across the hillside as the tearing of chainsaws subsided.

Tenshi's eyes widened. There, standing at the center of the warehouse carnage, was a human with the heart of a devil. Not just any devil, Chainsaw Man. She felt an unnatural calm borne of excitement rise in her as they stood across from that figure.

She was breathless.

"Chainsaw man"

"Tenshi–"

"It's okay," She said, batting away Iku's hand. Tenshi's eyes went to the words above the figure's head, 'Given the heart of Chainsaw man in exchange for showing him his dreams,' She only gave the contract a passing glance before returning her attention to the figure. "So, you're the one who caused this? Pretty impressive, huh?" Her tone was casual, no longer her bored or awestruck self.

"H–Hold–" the boy stuttered as he stumbled forward, wading through the sea of corpses, "Hold me." In an instant, the boy closed his eyes and was out like a light, falling face-first into the floor with an unceremonious wet thud.

"Huh?" Tenshi looked over her shoulder, "Iku, what's he talking about?"

Iku shook her head.

Denji was weightless, senseless, feeling nothing but a warm presence inside his chest.

"Hey."

He barely heard the voice, curling in on himself as he hugged Pochita, the devil's orange fur soft underneath his hands. They were in a hallway, an alleyway filled with trash–

"Hey, listen to me."

The voice spoke again, closer now; it was coming from behind him, where the entrance to the alleyway was. Countless flies buzzed in the air, dancing across posters filled with empty, faceless people. At the end of that hallway, there was––

"I said, listen."

Denji twisted around, an intruding hand away as the dream faded, the feeling of Pochita held against his chest leaving him. "It's too early, Pochita. Go back to sleep." The voice growled, but Denji ignored her, ignorant of her raised fists.

"Wake up!"

Denji's eyes slammed open as a pair of tiny fists slammed into his gut.

"Agh!" Denji coughed, sending spit flying across the car as he woke. He looked back and forth, quickly realizing that he was in a car. He paused for a moment, confused: he knew the Yakuza were dead now, so they wouldn't take him. Besides that, the car was too small and fancy; they had always picked him up in larger, cheaper-looking cars. Only then did he notice the angry, blue-haired girl looking at him. "Uh, hi," he said, still looking around. In the front seat, he saw the back of a woman's head, long purple hair flowing down her back. He felt his heart seize up. The one next to him was short and younger, although he couldn't tell how young; still, she had soft child-like features that made her seem quite cute. While the driver had her back turned to him, he could only see her purple hair. Denji had to blink to reassure himself that he wasn't. "Where am I?"

"My car," the taller woman said, "My name is Iku, and yours is?" Her voice was warm and inviting. Denji leaned forward at hearing her voice. It gave him the impression that she was an inhumanely beautiful woman, the type he could only see in a dream.

He blinked, too entranced by the sound of her voice. It took him another moment to realize she had asked him a question. "Denji." He said, ignorant of the pouting girl next to him.

At that, the other girl, Denji, had ignored and butted in, seizing him by the hands. "Well, nice to meet you, Denji, blessed as you are to make my acquaintance. I am Tenshi, the Control Devil and the savior of this world."

"Huh?"

The girl ignored him, immediately letting go of his hands as she gesticulated in the air wildly. "You see, if anybody else had found you, you might have been killed." With that said, she thrust a finger at his chest, tapping the base of the ripcord that was now extending from it.

Denji's eyes widened as he saw it, and all at once his memories of what happened earlier came flooding back. "Pochita!"

Denji clutched the ripcord, but before he could process all that had happened, Tenshi butted in again. "Yes, yes, your friends there," her absolute favorite person, her idol, Chainsaw Man, "Is a part of you now, but don't give up hope." She thrust a finger into the air, "After all, I have a plan." Well, actually, now that Tenshi thought about it, completely crushing his spirit may be a way to void his contract with Chainsaw Man.

"What?"

"It's easy, what I want is to remake the world in my image: I'll destroy humanity, devils, hell, and the earth. I'll make new land, four beautiful seasons, people with hearts and bodies that won't wither." She lurched forward, grabbing both of Senji's hands again as stars shone in her eyes. "A perfect society with no war, starvation, poverty, or death. A world where everyone's bellies are always full, where people don't have to live in fear of what the next day will bring, where they know they're loved. Where everyone will get along, and the only dreams people have will be sweet ones," the girl was lying on top of Denji now, forcing him down into the car seat beneath him. "Work with me, and we'll build a new world together."

"I–" Denji hesitated, unable to respond, not understanding what she had said despite understanding the words she had used.

"That was too high concept for him," Iku said, "and he's too old for you. Let's pull over." The second half of her sentence was a joking barb that confused and silenced both of the kids in the back seat as she exited off the main road towards a ramen shop.

As she did that, Tenshi was still sitting on top of Denji, trying to figure out what Iku had meant. "Wait, was that–" Before Tenshi could say anything else, she found herself flung across the car and into the car door opposite Denji. In the front seat, Iku snorted with laughter before composing herself.

"No," Iku said, preempting any attempt Iku would make to salvage the situation to her benefit.

For her part, Tenshi crossed her arms and scowled at Iku as she slowed the car, "Why don't you try then?" Her childishness was clear as day; she hardly understood what Iku meant, and on top of that, she didn't understand why Denji didn't respond positively to her ideals.

"I will." Iku parked the car and turned to look at Denji. "I apologize for my lady's offer. You like something to eat." Iku turned back for a moment to smile at him.

"I, uh." His attention back on her, Denji was too awestruck to answer. Tenshi pushed him out of the car, despite the other door being open, and dragged Denji with her. The pair followed Iku inside, where she sat them before ordering each a bowl.

Denji was still dazed, half-naked and shirtless, while Tenshi pouted next to him impotently. When the food finally arrived, Denji and Tenshi immediately dug in. Both of the manners left much to be desired, as Iku took her down. From her point of view, appetites weren't surprising. Tenshi was still a growing girl, and Denji had just lost a lot of blood. When the pair was done, they slammed their empty bowl onto the table.

"Wow, thanks, lady," Denji said, flashing Iku a smile.

"Yeah, thanks." Beside him, Tenshi was still doing her best to pout.

"Denji, I have a question. Would you like to eat food like this every day?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Good. Let me explain it like this: if you don't accept this job, you will be killed, but if you accept a job, you will eat food like this every day and won't be hunted down as a devil."

Denji looked down at the rip cord coming from his chest, "Pochita died to give this life, and I–"

"He's not dead," Tenshi said, interrupting him.

"Huh?"

She tapped the ripcord on his chest with the back of her hand, "He's not dead. I can smell him, Pochita," her idol, her everything, her perfect being, chainsaw man, "is still alive."

"Oh," Denji rubbed the back of his head, the wind of resolve suddenly taken from his sails. Still, he looked down at the ripcord in his hand, "Sweet."

Iku laughed softly, her smile lighting up the room. Denji smiled as well and nodded along. He had plenty of reasons to suspect her or the strange girl who had effectively kidnapped him and threatened his life. But of course, one thing outweighed all of that: there was a beautiful woman in front of him, and he would not say no to spending more time with them. "So, uh, Miss–"
"Iku."

"Miss Iku, what type of guy do you like?"

"Hmmm," Iku hummed as she put a hand on her chin, overacting to her fullest, "Maybe someone like this human boy named Denji."

"Wait, uh, that," Denji blushed and pointed at himself, "Me."

"Ew," Tenshi protested, cutting off Iku before she could respond, "You two are gross. Don't you know boys give you cooties, Iku?"

Iku sighed and shook her head. It seemed like her manipulation of Denji could wait; besides; she had too much pride, she wouldn't go any further than Tenshi gave her a direct command to.

"Well," Denji rubbed the back of his head, a blush spread across his face, "Guess I'm working for you guys now."

"Yep!" Tenshi hooked her arm around Denji's, dragging the unwilling older boy away from the table. "Now come on, we have a world to save!" Of course, first, the trio had to go shopping. But before that, a panicked man rushed through the front door, rambling about how a devil had kidnapped his daughter, but with the two–now three–devil hunters there, that was already a foregone conclusion.

Chapter Text

Youki Konpaku sat across from Yuyuko. Seated beside him, Youmu Konpaku, looked just about as lost as she always did as they ate. The mood was ice cold, and the silence deafening. As it always was in the Hakugyokurou.

Youki tried his hardest to decipher her intentions from her blank, food-stuffed face. But as always, he did not know what she was thinking, and it was to his shame that he was someone his mistress did not feel like she could rely on. At least compared to his three predecessors, who were all great friends of the Lady of the Netherworld.

"Youki. I've heard about something recently, a small village where the barrier of life and death is weak. I think it would be good for you and Youmu to visit, in order to strengthen your bond, of course." Yuyuko took a flyer from beneath the table and passed it to him. The article was worn, but he could still clearly read the name of the town, "Ebisugaoka."

Youki put his hand to his beard. Yuyuko, despite how she appeared, was never careless. From his point of view, everything Yuyuko did was a mystery wrapped in an enigma, all aiming towards some secret aim only she could see. Either way, this simple 'visit' to a town was anything but. Maybe an invasion? Busy work from the Ministry? Clandestinely killing dissidents? Perhaps there was an important person Yuyuko needed dead but couldn't use her ability on. However, one thing stood out in Youki's mind.

A training mission for Youmu.

His darling granddaughter, Youmu, was still only twenty-seven years old, a veritable child, but not young enough to where testing her wasn't out of the question. Even at her young age, she was still more worthy of taking on his mantle of head gardener than her father had ever been. Both in sword and gardening skills.

Either way, Youki was sure that Yuyuko wouldn't put either of them in serious danger. At least not a danger he couldn't handle. In the first place, it wasn't like he could refuse this mission.

Youmu parried the doll's clumsy stab with her trowel, sending it stumbling back, its top half flailing about wildly. The doll was a hideous thing, as tall as a man with marred, porcelain skin covered in blood and the roots of countless spider lilies, twisted and bent over with a black mop of hair that hid all of its face except for its gleaming, hate-filled smile. As it slowed down, Youmu shot forward like a bullet, the sharp point of her dibble pointed towards the doll's stomach like a dagger.

CRACK!

As Youmu forced the dibble in, stabbing the knot of roots which formed the doll's core, her other hand lashed out with the trowel, shattering the elbow joint of the doll's knife arm. You put her trowel into her gardening belt, grabbing a weeder as the doll fruitlessly tried to escape. Finally, she stabbed the doll's root core, removing it in a single clean motion. The doll's hate-filled smile faded as Youmu tossed the ball of plant matter onto the dirt road.

Ebisugaoka was an odd little town that reminded Youmu a bit of the villages from the Netherworld, with paper walls and doors. Although it certainly had a lot of things she didn't recognize, metal carriages and all sorts of strange devices she didn't understand. There also weren't any people, but Youmu didn't think anything of that.

The town was certainly more lively than Youmu expected. First, there had been that fog, and all these spider lilies popped up everywhere. She was disappointed that they had to do work on a vacation, but as long as her grandpa was here to handle it, things were fine. Then her grandpa had to excuse himself to go handle something, leaving her all alone. It had been really scary, but after the initial shock of the doll ambushing her, Youmu was frightened, but it was just a doll, not a ghost, even if it was a really weird naked doll. Although in retrospect, she should have just drawn her hedge clippers and cut the doll in half.

Youmu nodded to herself and did so, drawing her hedge clippers from their sheath on her back. In Youmu's mind, the town being infested with spider lilies and an accompanying swarm of evil dolls probably wasn't important enough for her grandpa to be bothered with.

Either way, she figured he would be proud of her for getting more hands-on gardening experience, and so she followed the distant clattering of doll feet. When she found her next victim, the creature was clambering down an alleyway. It had kicked a bucket down to where the alleyway bent, before jittering forward, peaking around the corner to someone or something Youmu couldn't see.

Youmu lunged, cutting through the air, ducking under the doll's messy stab as it noticed her. She snared its torso with her hedge clippers, metal biting into flesh-like porcelain. She only had a moment until it would stab its knife into her back, but that was enough time for her. Youmu pushed off the ground as her foot met dirt, rocketing herself and the doll into the wall opposite. A storm of woodchips exploded as the hedge clippers stabbed into the wall and the doll screamed.

Then Youmu snipped the hedge clippers closed, severing the ball of roots that served as its core.

Youmu unstuck and sheathed her hedge clippers as the doll dissolved into nothing. She did not even take a moment to glance at whatever curious thing the doll was investigating when she heard someone fall onto the floor of the alley.

Youmu cocked her head as she saw the high school student, a girl who looked to be at least a decade older than her. She was slowly backing away from Youmu as she tried to get up, eyeing her as if she were someone dangerous. Youmu frowned at this, trying to remember what her grandpa had told her about strangers.

"Always remember this, Youmu: the things that cannot be cut by the Roukanken, forged by youkai, are close to none."

Youmu blinked. Although that had been something her grandpa had said, she felt like it somehow wasn't applicable to the situation. Failing to remember anything her grandpa had taught her, Youmu bowed at the waist. "I will be in your care."

"I–" the high school girl stuttered as she got up from the street, mud caking her skirt. "Yes, my name is Hinako, what's yours?" Youmu could still see the fear in the older girl, but went along nonetheless.

She bowed, doing her best to look ordinary. Despite her spirit half lazily floating around her, something so normal to the girl, she neglected to even think of it. "Youmu. I'm here with my grandpa, we're gardening, but he's not here right now."

Hinako nodded, all at once she realized something, and called out. "Sakuko!" Youmu nearly jumped as the high school girl ran past, and so she followed. Their journey was circuitous, taking around a crashed truck, through a house, and then to the main road. It would have been easier to fly, but the one thing the young Youmu remembered about outsiders was that they weren't keen to fly, for reasons beyond her.

There, a girl lay dead, spider lilies sprouting from her corpse. Hinako was on her knees already, feebly tearing at the flowers. But Youmu...

Although she didn't understand what exactly was so upsetting about the corpse–the girl was just dead after all, it's not like she was a ghost–she sprang up like a rocket and held her hands beside her mouth as she yelled out:

"GRANDPA!"

Youmu's grandpa was a tall man with a serious face, clothed in green and white robes with his long white hair tied up into a ponytail matching his long white beard. He was the perfect image. His wooden sandals echoed across the town as he approached, although the only thing Hikako could see through the tears in her eyes was the blood dripping from his swords. Youmu figured the girl would need a proper burial, one that did not leave her as food for the spider lilies.

Chapter Text

The hand of the king was dead already.

Bernahl had seen the man's corpse himself through a peephole in the Red Keep's secret passages. Doubtless, the work of that warlock or the cheesemonger, perhaps even that butcher bird of man who could sit as the master of coin.

Both men remembered their last deaths as Tarnished. Now they were just men, strong men, but men. Creatures adapted to things like the strange movement of the dried fingers, which allowed people to cross leagues in but a moment. A moment of silence lingered still. Neither man doubted that the Tarnished who had killed them both would do great things; perhaps he would even liberate the Lands Between from the tyranny of the gods.

Either way, they weren't the only inhabitants of the Lands Between in the Red Keep, nor were they the only ones skilled in secret arts. A fact both men knew well. The Lord Hand's corpse spoke to that. Luckily, when the two found Arya, she was already close enough to the alcove Patches had claimed from the swarms of orphans living within the Red Keep's walls.

"Bernahl?"

"And trusty Patches!" The bald man said, " Earn the ire of both.

Bernahl didn't wait to grab her. "We're leaving."

Arya flailed as she picked him up. "No, we have to stay for–"

"He's dead."

"No!" Arya struggled more, kicking and yelling. Bernahl didn't care to quiet her; she had already alerted the orphans, who doubtless belonged to that bald warlock or the other creatures living within Red Keep's walls.

The beasts were closing in, but they had already reached the alcove Patches had staked out. And besides, in a constricted environment like this, with Patched holding the rear and Bernahl’s the front, all their pursuers could hope to do was slow them down.

"Patches. Now." he called as he stepped into the circle.

"No!" But Patches had already drawn the dried finger, and as their enemies closed in, he broke it in half.

"I said no!" but the world around them had already changed.

Both Patches and Bernahl's legs quivered as they arrived, right before the two fell to their knees. Bernahl cursed himself silently as he let go of Arya, the young girl exploding into a blur as she hit the ground running.

"Arya!"

"Dammit, girl."

The two followed when they recovered, but by the time they had found her, Arya was gazing out of the volcanic landscape of Old Valyria, her heart broken.

They had barely got Arya into a room, despite her protests. Either way, both men felt lucky that Lady Tanith had stocked Rya's room with girls' clothes. Even if the Serpent-woman never needed them, Lady Tanith acted oddly when doing so. Although considering how odd the lady had been, that wasn't saying much.

Regardless, after that, Bernahl had returned to the spot Arya had found earlier, one of the Volcano's many, many balconies, which now looked out onto the volcanic, ash-choked landscape of Old Valyria.

"I've made my ward a prisoner."

Patches patted him on the back. "Semantics, good friend. We saved her."

"Oh, don't be so glum. Think about where she'd be without us! Headless, stuffed in a coffin, married off to a Lannister vassal, or stuck wandering around some war zone. Perhaps she'd they’d put her under the care of that humorless, slavering dog like her sister was?"

Bernahl nodded, not wanting to argue with his companion. They were blackguards after all; all the Recusants were. Although now dead and revived again in a new land without their old Lord, the recusants had cast off even that.

Only Rya had remained, and only because both Lady Tanith and Rykard were dead. Now, she alone controlled the loyalty of her lesser-minded siblings. Only she could provide transport in and out of Valyria.

Once they had set themselves up properly, that loyalty remained, at least among the survivors. Although Patches and Bernahl doubted the loyalty of some others. At the very least, they were trustworthy—well, Bernahl was; Patches was another story.

"Well, I'm off again, have to meet up with some fine fellows in Lys." If they escaped, but neither man doubted Patches' crew managed an escape, even if it had to be a messy one. Bernahl nodded, but didn't respond as he departed. Regardless of his conflicted feelings, he had to inform Lady Rya of what had happened in King's Landing.

Arya had cried herself to sleep and awakened again. Now she kicked the door to her, tears in her eyes. She had been stupid to trust Bernahl, thinking him her friend, only for him to betray her and stick her in some stupid manor in a stupid volcano in stupid, cursed old Valyria. After that, she found her way to her new bed, burying her head.

Arya dug her head out of the pillow as she heard the rapping of knuckles against her bedroom door. "Go away!" She said, throwing her pillow against the door with a thud.

"Excuse me, Lady Stark?" A voice came from the other side of the door. She had to pause for a moment; it was a sweeter and softer voice than Arya had ever heard. Even her mother or that overly patient septa she had met once hadn't sounded so pure.

"I already said, go away!"

"I don't seek to force you out of your room, Lady Stark, nor do I wish to intrude, but I had heard you were upset by Mister Bernahl. Did he do something wrong?"

Arya didn't answer.

"I can assure you that despite his demeanor, Mister Bernahl is the most gallant and loyal of the Volcano Manor."
"Lady Arya."

Arya had left her bed again, approaching the door to her room and resting her head on it. "I just…"

She wanted to escape, to get to the wall, to talk to Jon. Back to Winterfell, go to Robb, apologize to Sansa, punch Jeyne in the face, and talk to the men-at-arms again. To see Bran and Rickon, and her mother. To see her father. Bernahl had said he was dead, that she was safest here. She distantly wondered who was in control of Winterfell and the north—Robb, she hoped. But even more, she wanted Joffery dead. She wanted her dire wolf Nymeria back.

She wanted to go home.

"If you wish to talk, Lady Stark, does that mean I may come in?"

"Fine." Arya took her head off the door and took two paces back.

With Arya's permission, the woman with the kindly voice pushed open the door and revealed herself. The first thing Arya noticed was the woman's strange, she had never been one to keep her back straight like her sister, much to the annoyance of Speta Mordane, but the kindly woman had taken it to a whole new level. Arya wondered if it hurt.

"Just because I let you in doesn't mean you're my friend," Arya said stubbornly as she turned to walk back to her bed.

The woman followed Arya to her bed, idly grabbing the pillow off the floor and handing it to the girl. "Well, it's nice to meet you anyway, Miss Stark." The hunched-over lady sat down at the end of Arya's bed, opposite her.

"Who are you?" Arya wanted to be mad at her, to tell her to go away or say something rude, but the lady exuded such kindness and innocence that the words stuck in Arya's throat.

"I am Rya. The Lady of Volcano Manor." The lady said as she curtsied, an awkward task given her posture. Distantly, she could hear Septa Mordane yell something about proper posture, but she doubted even the hag of a Septa could raise her voice at Rya.

But Arya didn't care how nice Rya was, nor did she fully understand what being the lady of the Volcano Manor meant. So she was determined not to give any ground. "What do you want?" She said, hugging her pillow tight to her chest.

"Well, I… wanted to see if you would appreciate a tour of the grounds." Rya had wanted to offer help, and she was offering help, but the young Stark girl didn't seem the type to accept if it was offered outright. Neither did she seem the sort to ask for help either . Regardless, Rya would do her best to accommodate the young girl's wishes.

Rya gestured to the dresser. "How about we get you some nice clothes to wear? I have many leftover clothes here."

And so, Arya began her stay at the Volcano Manor. Deep in the cursed heart of Old Valyria.

Chapter Text

Anxiety mixed with adrenaline and fear, warming him with a hollow flame despite the cold night air that caressed his bare chest. Beside him were his future comrades, if he was accepted, a Little Brother and Little Sister of the Middle, clad in their garish purple shirts covered by black jackets. They were walking down a long alleyway, dirt and grime covering every surface, the ground littered with trash, illuminated by distant purple light and suffused with muffled club music echoing from their destination, the club's back door.

Above, the light of the moon and stars vainly tried to look down upon the city, their vision clouded by the ever-present smog that covered every inch of L Corp. It clung to him, just like the dried blood.

The Sister went first, opening the door for the Brother to enter, and then herself behind her. Inside was a narrow hallway, and as the Sister closed the door behind him with a thud, his heart skipped a beat. The two ushered him forward, the music growing louder, and then fainter as they ascended to the club's second story. Several more Brothers and Sisters pass them, wearing the same purple and leather 'uniforms', smiling, until they arrive at a set of double doors. Smoke and purple light leak from underneath the door.

The pair smiles at the new Initiate before swinging the doors open. "Hey, Big Sister!" They call out in unison.

A plume of smoke is thrown into the room, causing their fellow Brothers and Sisters to erupt into coughing fits. However, deeper in the room, at the center of everything, a pair of golden eyes shone through the haze. The Initiate knew all at once that there were the eyes of the Big Sister.

"Well, what are 'ya waiting for, step up." The Initiate obeys before he even realizes what is happening, stumbling into the room and then onto his knees before the Big Sister's family.

"So, Why'dya do it?" Her voice was deep and stern, for a woman, but with an underlying softness that he didn't expect from someone cloaked in a cloud of smoke.

"I'm human. It's only natural, isn't it? There's not a person in the world who wouldn't do what I did."

"Really?" The Bog Sister says, before letting out a puff of smoke in his direction.

The Initiate nods. "Yes, Pleonexia, envy, and greed, are in our nature, if something has something else we want to have it. It's only right."

"What if somebody has less than you?"

"Then you look down on them. We hate the people who have more than us for having more and hate the people who have less than us for having less. They feel the same way, after all."

The Big Sister chuckled, and her Little Siblings followed suit, filling the room with dry laughter. When it dies down, the Initiate is still kneeling, and the Big Sister leans forward, her body coming into focus in the haze of smoke. "Getting yourself kicked out of a nest on a live video feed, that's just natural as well? Are you saying anybody else would throw away the chance of being a feather?"

"Yes, no-I." he hesitated. "That's just human nature as well. No person in the entire world would ever choose long-term gain over short-term gain. I just had a grudge against him, so I killed him."

She waited for a moment, holding his gaze with an expression in her eyes that told him he had made a mistake. Then she nodded."That's nice, kid, but just so you know, we're a family here. So keep those grudges aimed at our enemies."

"I'm–"

She rose from her seat. The crumpling of leather and the rattle of chains echoed. She was tall and well muscled from what little he could see, having a similar physique to the countless Fixers he had seen in magazines or in videos, heavily augmented with all the extraneous parts removed, a honing of the human form that reminded him of a statue or an anatomical model. She raised a hand, and the smoke parted around her, breaking like waves to reveal that purple light behind her, forming a purple halo around her head that made her augmented golden eyes glow, contrasting against her mane of dark hair and skin. By the time he realized what was happening, she had already walked to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yep, you're family now. Come along, get your first tattoo."

'He thought her hand was warm, tattoos ran along it in lattice work and fractal patterns until the sleeve of her jacket blocked his sight. Regardless, as he follows behind to a side exit of the room, she looks over her shoulder, past him, and to his new family. "Oh, and you guys. I expect you to have gotten the party started by the time we're back."

They exited out into a dark window-lined hallway, a door leaking purple light on the other end, its windows facing the massive wall that served as the barrier between the Backstreets of L Corp and the Wing itself. Down below, he could see vagrants lying on the street, silent to the coming hour of the Sweeper, where they'd be cleaned away like the rest of the trash. While above distant lights shone from the Distinct, eye-like spotlights vainly trying to see through the heavy smog that blanked all of L Corp., he only realized he had stopped when the Big Sister spoke up.

"Surprised at being looked down at for once? Backstreets aren't just all syndicates and Fixers." The Big Sister had turned to look at him, her form turned into a silhouette by the purple lighting from the room beyond.

Once again, he noticed the uncomfortable dried blood caking his body. He shook his head. "No, it's just that it looks the same as the Nest. I expected it to be worse." She said nothing at that, only huffing, and he feared he made a grave mistake. But a moment later, he heard her turn around, and he followed her to the room beyond. There in the purple-light-soaked room, sat a tattooist's chair in the middle, and next to it an aide wearing some sort of black headset. He followed the Big Sister's orders as she sat him down in the chair.

She turned on the said computer, moving him out of the way. "Ah, what's your name?"

"Tulane." The start answered. The Big Sister nodded as she typed something out.

"So, Tulane, why'd you really want to join?"

"Huh?"

"You talked a big game back there, but you were lyin'. If you're honest now, then." She shook her head. "You can guess the rest."

Somehow, he doubted that. She was a Big Sister of the Middle; she could kill him like it was nothing. "I just wanted to kill him."

She looked down at him with an expression he couldn't decipher. "Gonna explain why?" Still, a part of him was distracted by her beauty. Regardless of how he felt about her, he opened his mouth, hesitated to speak, closed it, and shook his head. There were just things he wasn't going to talk about.

"Fair enough, you have a new family now, a new life. Now come on, you earned your first tattoo, anyway. Come on, I'll do it myself." The Big Sister said, brushing off the tattooist as she took his tools for herself. "Now on your back."

She adjusted the chair, forcing him to take the position lying on his front. Then with a spark of purple, the needle met his skin. It didn't hurt at first, then the itching started, then the burning, then the memory. Tulane gritted his teeth as it all came flooding back. Rage, the sweet taste of vengeance, despair, hopelessness, anger, anger, anger. How he hated, how he loved that hatred, how what he did needed little justification. Then the pain dulled out into a thin hum, and with it, the images flashing through his mind. When it ended, the skin deep ink was still bleeding, but all the dried blood from earlier had flaked off his skin, littering the floor. As he got off the chair, he reached around to touch his first tattoo, feeling its static hum before looking back at the Sister.

Somehow, this time, in this purple-drenched room, he had a clear sight of her.

She was radiant like the sun, the purple back light forming a halo around her head, her skin covered in tattoos, golden chains around her neck, golden earrings, and chains wrapped around her. And on her face a pair of golden eyes, boring into his soul. "Anyway, welcome to the Middle. My name's Tanya, call me that or Big Sis, whichever you prefer. Now come on, we need to get you some chains." With that finally said, the life of a Feather ended, and the life of a Little Brother of the Middle began.