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j-graysonlibrary · 7 months

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The Xiang Chronicles: Book One Chapter 9

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book One

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 83k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: Every few centuries a hero is born—one chosen by the God Tiandi to carry out his will in the mortal realm. The Xiang. Whether it is to quell a war instigated by the forces of shadow—of Shakti herself—or whether it is the miasma that poisons the world, the Xiang is born to bring the world back into balance.

Shu Pangu Min knows what his purpose is and he does his best to fulfill it even if he doesn’t fully understand all of the details. He must travel from city to city—lord to lord—to clear out the miasma. Along the way, he is to enlist the aid of four disciples. Each is to be of a different country and each must have high resonance and deep faith.

The holy men who raised him have great confidence in his future successes and they leave him to begin his journey on his own. But, can Pangu live up to the expectations of those around him? Can he really save the land like all other Xiang before him or will his unconventional methods doom them all?

Full chapter 9 under the cut

Chapter IX

The atmosphere of the capital city of Castelle was a lot different than when Pangu and Raine had left. A dark veil clung to the air and Pangu could tell that the miasma had worsened quite a bit. He shared a look with Raine who could tell that something had shifted as well.

Kira stayed close by them as they made their way directly to the palace.

After being in so many small towns and cities, the capital was really an impressive sight, Pangu realized. He had been blown away when he first saw it but now that he had other places to compare it to, there was no doubt that it was the home of the most important man in the country.

At the gate to the plaza, Ryu and Sampra stood in the same spots as Pangu had last seen them. In contrast to the somewhat gloomy mood of the city, the two men were wearing smiles.

“Xiang!” Sampra called out first and waved. “You have returned!”

“I have, indeed, my good sirs,” Pangu said and really studied them. He could see that Ryu had taken his advice so he decided to ask, “How was the date?”

Sampra blushed while Ryu looked to the side bashfully. “Xiang, I appreciate your assistance in the matter but it is rather impolite to ask about such a private matter.”

He laughed. “It went that well, did it?”

That time both of them blushed.

Kira raised his brow as the situation dawned on him. “Pangu, did you set these two soldiers up on a date of the romantic persuasion?”

Pangu looked back at him before he smiled and nodded. “Well,” he corrected his disciple, “I really only suggested it.”

“I was under the impression such relationships were forbidden by your god,” Kira mentioned and crossed his arms. He had noticed that the Xiang had not condemned him for his past ‘relationships’ but he hadn’t expected him to be so supportive of regular folk on the matter.

“I am the mouthpiece of Tiandi currently and I say it is okay.”

His explanation was far simpler than Kira expected as well. He couldn’t help but smile. “You are more interesting every day, dear Xiang.”

“You have improved my life significantly,” Sampra spoke up, “And for that, I could not be more grateful. I did not even realize that Ryu thought of me in that way…”

“It was obvious to me,” Pangu responded and snickered. “Anyway, I am thrilled that things worked out for the both of you.”

Both of the guards nodded and then gave a more proper bow before the Xiang and his party continued onward.

Raine had already come to accept that Pangu’s methods and ideologies were slightly different than the Xiangs before him which he, personally, had no qualm with. If the Xiang said something was okay, he believed him.

It was Kira who was still in slight shock. Throughout his life he had met plenty of religious zealots who had claimed all manner of things about the sins of love. To those people, Tiandi’s rules on two men or two women being together was as set in stone as the rotation of the sun.

But Pangu seemed to disregard it entirely. And Kira had an idea as to why.

The Xiang led the way into the hall of the King where Din Raime Cast awaited them. This time the guards around him were more relaxed, even with the addition of Kira to the group.

“Your majesty,” Raine greeted the man in the usual fashion before stepping back behind Pangu. Kira waved a little but made no effort to properly greet the King. Raine cut his eyes at his far too casual approach but said nothing.

“Song Raine Sei, it is nice to see you again,” the king responded with a simple head bow of his own. His eyes moved to Kira. “Is this your new disciple, Xiang?”

“Yes, your lordship,” Pangu answered, “This is Kira. I now have only Agni and Enlil left for my last two disciples. With my great progress so far, I hope for a full group soon.”

“That would be best for all of us,” the King agreed before shifting the conversation, “Devati gave you a missive for me, correct?”’

“Correct,” he confirmed and retrieved the letter. He smoothed it out and handed it to one of the guards who then delivered it into the King’s hands.

“Do you mind if I read it now?” Din Raime Cast asked with an arched brow.

Pangu hoped the letter wasn’t too long because he gave him the go ahead. He folded his hands in front of him and, occasionally, looked back at his disciples who seemed nervous and bored respectively.

“…He wants more troops…” the King announced with a heavy sigh, “I cannot continue to ignore the real possibility that Lord Devati is planning a coup.”

“That didn’t seem to be on his mind, your lordship,” Pangu stated, “There were a lack of people in the cleanup and many soldiers lost their lives because of the storm. I will not take sides on the matter but you could be reading too much into a situation that does not exist.”

“Xiang…” Din Raime Cast narrowed his eyes. “Remind me again of who your father is.”

“A fisherman, sir.”

“As I thought. Not the previous King of Kyrie as mine was.”

“It is not my intention to argue with you,” Pangu raised his voice, “I am stating what I observed in Liun. If you wish to declare a war on your own sub lord then so be it but I will not help you nor will I return to Lord Devati to assist him.”

“Since the dawn of the Xiang, they have been an impartial worker of Tiandi,” the King replied, “but you and I both know that miasma is amplified by discord and distress. So if my dear lord in Liun is wishing to wage war and attempt to steal my crown then you must agree it is best to stop him in the interest of peace.”

“I am interested only in purifying the miasma of this country.”

A silence persisted for almost too long. Then the King sighed and shook his head. “I see. You have other countries to attend to as it is and I am aware of the consequences I could be looking at if I were to keep you within my borders for an extended period. We have peace with Terra but they are always on a hair trigger.”

“I must make my way there as soon as possible,” Pangu agreed with him, “But clearing the miasma here in Castelle is my top priority.”

“And cleared it needs to be…”

Pangu heard all he needed so he and his disciples left the palace. A ceremony would be announced for later in the day so he had some time to waste until then.

Kira rushed over to him once they were outside the plaza. “Pangu, that was incredible!”

“What was?” The Xiang tilted his head to the side.

“You just told the King to fuck off,” the man said and laughed, “I loved it.”

“I am surprised his majesty did not lash out,” Raine mentioned, sounding less excited and more worried, “If you were not the Xiang, you would be facing a harsh penalty for that.”

“Good thing I am the Xiang then.” Pangu smiled a little but, in truth, the encounter had given him stress. He hated arguing with people and he was aware that the lords and clan leaders across the land would not all be as devout of Tiandi followers as Din Raime Cast. What he did in there would probably not work as well in Terra and especially not in Agni where there was the highest concentration of atheists.

He would have to think of other methods to use rather than relying on his inborn divinity. For the first time since he had started traveling with Raine, he wished his teachers were back so he could ask their advice.

Raine and Kira held on a conversation but Pangu only partly paid attention to it. Some of what they touched on was the very thoughts he was struggling with—how the religious and spiritual angle would only work on the eastern half of the land.

“How much money do you have, Kira?” Pangu asked, breaking up their talking. “I’d like to buy some souvenirs. Maybe some snacks as well.”

“There are many good vendors down by the market,” Raine mentioned and pointed.

“Are you exceptionally familiar with the food here?” Kira asked and smirked, “I’ll take your suggestions.”

“I have a few favorites,” the man responded and, with more excitement than he’d had since their arrival to the capital, he led them down the street.

Pangu tried all of Raine’s favorite foods and snacks, successfully getting his mind off of the upcoming ceremony altogether. It wasn’t until his disciples started to walk him toward the center of the city’s square that he realized what time it was.

A huge crowd gathered, dressed in their best robes and headdresses for the occasion. Pangu actually felt under dressed when he looked at all of the people and he wondered if he should swing by a seamstress to pick up something nicer.

But it was already too late for that.

A band played, giving him music to dance to for the first time. Pangu smiled a little as the crowd started to clap to the tune and cheer—some even started to sing. It really helped the energy and his dance improved as well.

He felt for the miasma, knowing it would be a heavier burden this time. No matter how used to it he had gotten since the past few ceremonies, it was visible here so he knew he would suffer some draw back.

The heaviness never came nor did the lightheaded sensation. Pangu pulled the air toward him with a little more force and found traces of the miasma but it wasn’t coming toward him. He frowned slightly but continued his dance, trying to find where the poison was being siphoned into.

His eyes scanned across the crowd as he zeroed in on where the air was really going. Raine, he noticed, and then he felt the pull into Kira.

The Terran disciple flicked his wrist subtly and the miasma flowed into him. Pangu didn’t only feel it but he saw it. Kira was absorbing the miasma—not him.

He almost stopped dancing but reminded himself that this was for the people—not the actual purification process. The dance was almost over anyway as the air became clear and light.

Pangu stopped and the band’s song faded out. Cheering erupted from the crowd but he couldn’t look at anyone besides Kira.

Had he been doing that since he joined or had he just done it now? He couldn’t be sure but he knew he couldn’t allow him to continue.

“You’re right. It definitely was a different dance,” Raine mentioned to the man beside him.

Kira snickered but he didn’t move his eyes from Pangu. The Xiang had been staring at him since halfway through his ceremony and he wondered if he had finally noticed.

When he asked to speak with him privately, he knew it for certain.

Raine left to visit his home or what he considered his home. The orphanage outside of the market district where he and around thirty other children grew up. The matron there, Song Ranmu Sei, was like a mother to him. Pangu and Kira stayed at the fancy inn close by the palace (their rooms being paid for as a gesture of goodwill from the King).

On the balcony, overlooking the city that was lit up by lanterns in the night, Kira sat across from Pangu. They each had a glass of wine on the table with a candle settled between them.

“How can you absorb miasma?” Pangu asked, bluntly.

“I’m not sure,” Kira answered and drummed his fingertips on the wood of the table. “I just learned I could.”

“It is my duty,” he insisted, “You are not protected by Tiandi—it will rot you from the inside out.”

“And it has no effect on you?” the man countered as he leaned forward in his seat. “I saw how out of sorts you were when you first absorbed it. You could barely stand and there was hardly any of the stuff in the air.”

“Then how can you take such a large amount without it affecting you?” Pangu’s brow furrowed in confusion. Kira had barely shown any difference in behavior or in his well being since he sucked in all of the miasma from the capital. If he had done it himself, he knew he would still be recovering.

“I really don’t know, Pangu. I just can.” Kira shrugged before looking out to the city. “If it doesn’t bother me like it bothers you then shouldn’t I be the one to do it anyway? You’re the Xiang…your health is more important.”

He frowned. “I am still so confused. I can no longer feel it around but there is an energy coming off of you. Is it possible you have some natural ability for this?”

“Well,” his disciple said with a sigh, “I’ve always been a sponge for negativity so it makes sense in a way. My life has been seeped in dark energy and negative emotion so maybe I’m just more used to it than you are? Miasma is the manifestation of all of that shit, isn’t it?”

“Dark energy?” Pangu repeated and waited until he looked at him before continuing, “What is it exactly that you are used to, Kira?”

He smiled a little but there was sadness behind the expression. “A lot.” After a moment of silence and a rather large sip of wine, Kira proceeded, “My mother was a prostitute. Not officially though—she didn’t belong to a brothel or anything like that. It was just what she did for money. I was an unfortunate side effect of her lifestyle. But, once I grew to a certain age, she realized I could be more than just a burden. I could be used to make money as well.”

Pangu frowned and looked down at the table. “How could a mother do such a thing to their child?”

“Who knows? She never saw herself as my mother, if that helps. She used to tell me I was a curse from the evils of the world and I didn’t really come from her at all.” Kira turned his wine glass in his hand and licked over his lips. “Hearing things like that really messes with how you think of yourself, you know? But, I digress…I left her a while ago. Joined the military for a time but…it didn’t work out.”

“It didn’t work out?”

He shook his head gently. “No. It didn’t.” With a quiet laugh, Kira added, “Don’t tell Raine but I always wanted to be someone more like him. It’s impossible for me though.”

Pangu surprised him by immediately responding, “You don’t need to be anyone but you, Kira. I think you are fine how you are.”

His jaw dropped slightly before another laugh, this one dry, came out of him. “Well, you’d be the first.”

The Xiang smiled. “I’m alright with that…if…if it doesn’t bother you—the miasma—you can keep absorbing it. I mean, I have a feeling you will regardless of what I say. But do know that I will be checking on you and ensuring that it isn’t harming you. If you start to show signs of poisoning, I will forbid you to continue.”

He smirked. “Sure thing, boss.”

“I’m not your boss.”

Kira downed the rest of his wine, cringing a little as it went down. Then, without looking at the man across from him but with a smile still on his lips, he said in a soft voice, “Thanks, Pangu.”

#the xiang chronicles #my novel #my writing

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sonicasura · 3 years

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Top 5 Game Series That Need The N.Sane Treatment

Crash Bandicoot was a series that hadn't been seen for years until the Crash Bandicoot N.Sane Trilogy was revealed to the world. Thanks to this trilogy, not only was the franchise revitalized but we also got a sequel for Crash Warped in the form of Crash 4: It's About Time.

This is a recipe that could potentially bring games lost in obscurity back into the limelight but even a chance for new games to come. Here are some of my picks!

1. Jak and Daxter

One of the games that seriously needs the N.Sane Trilogy treatment. Jak and Daxter was a game series made by Naughty Dog that would inspire many platforms after. It stars the Demolition Duo, Jak and his partner ottsel, Daxter, on incredible adventures that change in tone over each game. You begin with a goofy island adventure to a dark futuristic playground as new mechanics get introduced.

Out of the main trio which consists of Jak, Sly, and Ratchet, Jak was actually the first game I played amongst them. A series that needs a comeback especially with the Easter Eggs often seen in Ratchet and Clank games throughout the years.

Touch up the graphics into a different style depending on the game, the Precursor Legacy be a bit more cartoony in appearance like Crash 4, and then switch to a style similar to the N.Sane Trilogy for the darker games like Jak 2 and 3.

Adjust the controls to run smoother, change difficulty of certain games like lower the difficulty of Jak 2 a smidge and place an optional mode to play with the original difficulty.

This would lay down the groundwork for an actual proper sequel, Jak X feels more like a side game while Lost Frontier is a snore fest.

If Naughty Dog doesn't take this route and continues pushing out flavorless games, I suggest any decent company that can do should buy the rights to Jak and Daxter. This is a gold mine covered in dust that needs to come back!

2. Sly Cooper

Yep! We're going to the other member of this once legendary trio, Sly Cooper. Sly Cooper was the second game series from Sucker Punch that I played, the first being Infamous series.

This game revolves around a group of thieves who steal from criminals and tend to get wrapped up in saving the world a few times or battling enemies out to end the bloodline of the main character, Sly Cooper, who comes from a legendary family of thieves.

Before the series disappeared into discontinuity, we had a total of 3 main games alongside one made by Sanzaru. Sanzaru's Thieves of Time was decent but midway World 3, the quality seriously declined and left fans with a very unsatisfied ending. Perfect for crossovers but terrible for the franchise.

Giving this game the N.Sane Trilogy treatment would not only give a more successful chance than attempts to make a movie, but it could to more proper sequel than Sanzaru's version. Use a design similar to Sanzaru's or go for a more rounded one like N.Sane Trilogy.

Ratchet and Clank Rift Apart even had an Easter Egg with Sly in it too! Insomniac acknowledges that these game series still exist by dropping these little nuggets of nostalgia, take the hint and bring back the Legendary Playstation Trio!

3. Spectrobes

Nintendo's alternate version of Pokemon. Spectrobes is a trilogy game series that debuted on the DS and last game was made for the Wii.

This series revolves around Rallen and Jeena, two members of the Nanairo Patrol, as they search for the fossils of creatures of light known as Spectrobes to find the planet devouring darkness known as Krawl.

You travel through various planets to uncover different kinds of fossils and some very interesting or whacky but loveable characters. It has elements similar to Fossil Fighters where you have to dig up fossils before awakening them. Care for your Spectrobes to battle the Krawl.

The evolving battle system, new mechanics, various locales and the unique design of each Spectrobe were something I loved but pretty sure many would like too. It even had a book and a mini series on YouTube! The game's graphics could take a route similar to Rayman Legends or Dragonball FighterZ.

Don't go for Jump Force please. We need actual expression than stiff faces and aggravating screams.

This is game series worth bringing back even if it just gets a remake.

4. Golden Sun

Another Nintendo franchise that needs return from obscurity. Golden Sun was a JRPG that came along systems like the Gameboy Advance during a severe lack of games for it. It revolves around different groups of people who use Psynergy, their version of alchemy, to battle evil as they travel the realm of Weyward.

A great game series enriched by its many characters, lore, growing battle system such as Djnn and Summons to turn the tide in battles, unique story and all sorts of areas to explore.

The biggest dent to the franchise was Dark Dawn because of its questionable ending that left many players confused or dissatisfied despite the incredible graphics, plot and character interactions. After that no one has heard a single word about any sequel.

The N.Sane Treatment would not only bring the franchise back for fans both new and old but can actually fix the questionable ending for Dark Dawn. Graphic style, um, I guess something similar to Dragon Quest or maybe Persona. Persona would be the better option considering how you choose how the main character responds to certain situations.

This series has been done dirty and deserves a second chance like this.

5. Kid Icarus

A Nintendo franchise that shows bringing back old games can revitalize a lost series.

This game series is at the bottom for a decent reason actually. Masahiro Sakurai has been hearing requests about porting one of the games, Uprising, to the Switch. Something that he sounds like he wants to do but there is a problem as he admits it would be difficult.

How Uprising is made for the 3DS such as the dual screens, and specific use of the touch screen for combat. Something that can't easily be translated to something like the Switch without decent changes.

The game revolves around the angel Pit, who fights the evil forces of the Underworld with assistance from his Goddess Palutena. Each game changes the rules of battle with the greatest being Uprising as you combat various creatures and even bosses revolve mostly around Greek mythology.

I think the N. Sane Trilogy can work with this. The first Kid Icarus and the second Of Myth and Monsters might be what could provide the missing pieces for the Uprising Switch Port Situation.

Both games could be completely restyled in a format that could be similar to Zelda since in these games, your options of weapons are limited and you have to think smart for particular puzzles.

They can be used to lay down a format that can built on for an Uprising Remake since Land Battles are one half of the essential gameplay. The graphics can be Uprising since it's already a perfect that just needs to be brushed up a bit.

When it comes to Super Smash Brothers, Sakurai worked hard to make characters like Minecraft Steve or Fighting Game fighters such as Ryu and Kazuya fit into the gameplay even if it meant changing about every hitbox and aspect of the stages. A little help can go a long way.

That's what I've got for now. If I find anymore games that need the N. Sane Trilogy then I'll put em in a new list. Until next time folks!

#my personal opinion #jak and daxter #sly cooper #golden sun #kid icarus #spectrobes #sonicasura #nintendo #playstation #crash bandicoot #video games #video game idea #remakes #video game series #naughty dog #sucker punch #camelot #disney interactive studios #top 5 list

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maatryoshkaa · 4 years

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young god | chapter 15

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 12.0k

warnings: descriptions of violence, sexual assault, mental illness. dark themes and foul language. all information regarding psychiatric conditions or courtroom procedures are to be taken with a fat grain of salt.

description: As Han Jisung’s trial steadily approaches, Hwang Hyunjin struggles to decide where his loyalties lie. Prosecutor Kang is as ruthless as he is greedy, and a startling confession from Yang Jeongin reveals that the ugliest pasts often lie behind the brightest of smiles. Old scars run deep, and all wounds are finally reopened on the day of the trial.

watch the trailer here!

ryu says: “holy h*cking shit.”

15| the devil’s advocate.

“Is Miroh Heights rallying for the death of a 20-year-old orphan? Is justice always this heartless?

“The only existing psychological analysis of alleged serial killer Han Jisung has now been revealed to the public eye, painting a stark contrast with the image of the stone-cold murderer we were all introduced to before. What else is the prosecution hiding? Is Han Jisung at the mercy of a system that has failed him once — and will it fail him again? More on this complex case, next week.”

You set the school paper down on the diner table. Across from you, Bang Chan gave a low whistle. “Lee Felix, is it? You really outdid yourself, kid.”

Felix grinned. He was glowing, not just from the detective’s praise, but with a light sheen of sweat — you two had woken up at the crack of dawn to deliver the newspapers around town, Felix on Jeongin’s bike, and you and Chan in Woojin’s police cruiser. The delivery boy had even drawn out a map of all the shortcuts he knew, and so you had all made it back to Glow Cafe — where Hyunjin was waiting with fresh mugs of coffee — before noon.

Jeongin scanned the front-page article again, nodding excitedly. “I read the local press’ papers every day while I was in the hospital — this basically goes directly against everything they’ve been saying.” He still had weeks before he was allowed to be discharged from the hospital, but had managed to bribe a nurse into letting him take ‘short walks for fresh air’ during the day.

“Why’re we fighting against the local media, though?” Hyunjin asked. The barista looked much better now that Jeongin was awake — the colour had returned to his once-pale cheeks, and he had opened the cafe back up for business again. “I mean, what does the news have to do with the trial? Knowing the prosecutor, he probably doesn’t even care.”

Chan shook his head. “The media plays a huge role in cases like these — mass murder allegations, things that’ll implicate the entire town. In smaller cases, yeah, no one would look twice at the news. But for cases like Jisung’s, they’re going to bring in a jury for the trial — and most times, what the jury agrees on ends up being the final verdict.”

“But the jury isn’t supposed to have heard of the case beforehand.”

Woojin grimaced. “In theory. Miroh Heights is a big town, but it’s old — not to mention it’s a campus area.” When Hyunjin still looked confused, Woojin continued, “That all makes it a close-knit community. There’s only so many people who qualify for jury duty — and I’m willing to bet that there’s not a single person in Miroh Heights who isn’t keeping up with Jisung’s case by now.”

“Kang’s a top-tier scumbag, but he’s far from stupid,” Chan mused, reaching for his mug and frowning when there was no more coffee left. “It definitely wouldn’t be beyond him to pull some strings to make sure he gets to choose the people on the jury: the ones exposed to the case — the news — the most—”

You finished his thought for him. “Students. Professors. Citizens.”

“Exactly.”

There was a brief silence. Chan began a side conversation with Felix, and you snuck a look at Hyunjin. He had disappeared behind the counter, and was fiddling with the cash register with his head down.

You glanced back at the table. Woojin and Jeongin were sitting in a strangely awkward silence — the delivery boy’s expression was oddly closed off, you thought to yourself. It was almost...cold, a side of Jeongin you had never seen before. Shrugging, you excused yourself from your seat and retreated behind the bar to where Hyunjin was standing quietly. The barista was idly unrolling packets of coins to refill the cash register, and didn’t look up at you.

You nudged him gently. “Hey, ‘jinnie.” Nothing. “Hwang Hyunjin, talk to me.”

The long silence was broken only by the clinking of coins, until Hyunjin finally mumbled, “What d’you mean?”

You sighed, fiddling with an empty coin tube and trying to find the right words. “It’s— it’s a lot to ask for, I know.” You didn’t have to mention Jisung’s name for him to know what you were referring to — your boyfriend’s case hung over all of your heads like a guillotine every second of the day.

Still, your mind flashed back to his sudden outburst months ago, when he had first met Jisung face-to-face in the cafe. His cold, guarded wariness towards the other boy, and how he’d spent the next two months practically soulless by Jeongin’s bedside. You tried to meet his eyes. “You’ve been through a lot.”

The coins were trembling in Hyunjin’s long fingers. “You’ve been through more,” he muttered back. You didn’t have to follow his gaze to know he was looking at the site of your stab wound, hidden under the layers of your sweater. “How’d they let you out so early, anyways?”

“Hey, I was in there for nearly a month — they said I slept for three weeks straight, you know?” You laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension, but Hyunjin didn’t return the smile. “I’m okay, ‘jin.”

Your eyes searched his face for a response. Despite everything, Hyunjin still looked weary — like he had gotten older, more tired. He had seen things in the past few months that could never be erased — you all had. And you knew Hyunjin like the back of your hand — he had been one of the first faces you’d met when you’d moved to Miroh Heights, the unlikely first close friend you’d made. With absent parents who ran businesses abroad, Hyunjin had been on his own for most of his life. You knew how he always kept his worries and doubts to himself, how his polite, casual demeanor hid a heart full of emotions he didn’t know how to deal with or express.

“Are you okay, though?” Hyunjin asked, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours, and you felt your heart pang at how helpless he looked. “Every time you see something wrong — someone in trouble, you stop at nothing until you can help them. And I love that about you, y/n. I really do—but—” Hyunjin gestured his hands wildly, voice wavering as if he was struggling to get the words out, “You can’t save everyone, y/n.” The familiar words made you shrink back as Hyunjin kept talking. “The last time you tried, you nearly ended up— d-dead. I’m worried like hell, okay?. Worried that if you keep trying to save others, you’ll just be the one hurt in the end.”

“Hyunjin—” You reached out to grab his shaking hands, to calm him down, but your elbow knocked over a roll of coins. They spilled across the floor, making everyone jump and look up.

“Everything okay back there?” Chan called, and you nodded, waving him away distractedly as Hyunjin dropped down to pick the change up. As you knelt down to help him, you heard footsteps approach the counter, and looked up to see Jeongin behind you. Back at the table, Chan and Felix were still talking like newfound frat brothers, but Woojin was fiddling with his mug silently.

“Can I talk to him for a moment?” Jeongin asked you quietly, and you glanced back down at Hyunjin. Jeongin had been sitting the closest to the bar counter, you realised — he had probably heard a good chunk of your conversation. You nodded, placing the change on the countertop, and headed back to the table.

Hyunjin watched Jeongin dive for a quarter that was rolling away. Underneath Jeongin’s sleeves, Hyunjin could see fading scratches peeking out — where the skin had scraped away when he’d fallen to the ground, bloody and unconscious, the night of the attacks. They were nearly healed, but the memory alone still made Hyunjin’s gut twist, and he tore his gaze away.

“Do you still think about that night?”

Both Jeongin’s quiet voice and his question took Hyunjin by surprise, and he couldn’t help but look up. The younger boy’s eyes were soft, gentle — a contradiction to his naturally fox-like features — and it was as if he’d spoken Hyunjin’s thoughts out loud. You never had to explain anything to Jeongin, Hyunjin thought. Growing up with no one but his sickly grandmother, Hyunjin had never truly opened up to anyone before — but Jeongin always seemed to understand exactly how Hyunjin was feeling, and there was something about the younger boy that could always calm Hyunjin down.

He’d always looked at Jeongin like a younger brother, a bright presence Hyunjin wanted to protect and take care of at all costs.

Now, Hyunjin found himself wondering if Jeongin had been the one taking care of him, all along.

“I see it every time I close my eyes,” Jeongin finally continued, and the question repeated itself in Hyunjin’s head — that night. The night Han Jisung had killed another student, and sent Jeongin into a two-month coma. The night Hyunjin had woken up to find his closest friend bleeding out on his storefront. No matter how many times the memory crept up on Hyunjin, it still made his blood run cold.

Hyunjin could only nod, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

“Sometimes...I think about how things might’ve been different. If I hadn’t stopped — no, if I hadn’t even taken that shortcut through the Yellow Wood. Or...if I didn’t have to work the night shift in the first place.” Jeongin huffed a soft laugh, then drew quiet. “But we don’t really get to decide what happens to us, huh? One thing leads to another, and the next thing you know, the world’s turned upside down.” He paused. Something in the younger boy’s voice made Hyunjin think he wasn’t just talking about the Yellow Wood anymore.

“I wonder if he...if Jisung thinks about that, too.” Jeongin continued. “How things would have changed if he hadn’t taken that path that night. Or, if he never had to do the things he did...” Jeongin trailed off, and a question was left hanging in the air.

Where did it all go wrong?

It wasn’t like Hyunjin had never seen Jisung in passing — the kid whose bright smile and boisterous laugh masked his strangely wide, dark eyes. Who seemed to linger alone on the streets and in the shadows of murky alleyways after curfew, just wandering. As if the boy was constantly looking for something he’d lost — but had long since forgotten what it was.

“I just...” Hyunjin’s own voice surprised him, but as soon as he got the words out, he could no longer stop them. “I just want everything to go back to normal. The way things used to be. I—” Hyunjin looked around the cafe, letting out a shaky sigh. “I’ve grown up in this town all my life. Maybe I’ve grown scared of change — scared of how it could make me lose everything. Scared of how it could make me lose you guys.” He put his throbbing head in his hands. “Maybe that’s what makes me a coward. I don’t know Jisung. But I’ve seen the things he’s done, and I can’t — I can’t watch it happen again. I don’t think I could take it.” He looked at Jeongin helplessly. “How do you...forgive someone who could have killed you?”

Jeongin was silent, pensive. He picked up the last coin and slid it into the cash register before saying quietly, “Did I ever tell you about my dad?”

Hyunjin frowned in confusion. “You don’t...talk about your family often.”

“Most of the time, I’d rather not.” Jeongin gave a small smile. “But these days, I keep thinking about them. I know people talk about them behind my back — why a freshman has to work delivery jobs all day, and study all night. Why no one came to visit me in the hospital, except for you.” The younger boy shifted his feet, gaze dropping to his hands. “My dad’s in prison. Third-degree murder.”

Hyunjin’s hands stilled, and Jeongin continued talking. “My mum was your typical office worker — real big company, too. We were never that well off to begin with — maybe that’s why she stayed silent about the...the abuse for so long. About the stuff her higher-ups would do to her behind locked doors, when they’d make her stay overtime in their offices.” Jeongin’s voice wavered, and he cleared his throat shakily.

“I don’t know how my dad finally found out, I...I could never bring myself to ask.” Jeongin was gripping the count[er, knuckles white and voice barely audible. “I’ve never seen my dad angry before. He doesn’t get angry. He’d always take the short end of the stick with a smile, you know? This was the first time he’d ever...picked a fight with anyone.” Jeongin paused, eyes glazed over in memory. “That night, Mum was staying late again. But this time...my dad showed up at her workplace. Burst in after-hours, like a madman. And that night, neither of them came home.

“The police came knocking on our door the next morning. And they told me my father killed three men in a fight. A fight.” Jeongin looked up at Hyunjin now, smiling, but his crescent eyes were filled with tears. “No one cares about an office woman’s sexual abuse story. Not when you have the families of three rich businessmen bribing law enforcement any way they can to keep their reputations clean. You can guess who the lead prosecutor of the trial was.”

“Prosecutor Kang,” Hyunjin breathed, not daring to believe it, but Jeongin nodded.

“The trial was easy. My dad would spend the rest of his life in prison.”

“That’s not fair,” Hyunjin blurted, voice barely a whisper. “They can’t—it’s not—”

“The system isn’t fair,” Jeongin replied. It sounded like he was quoting someone. “It’s been a long time since the system’s chosen morals over money.”

Hyunjin’s gaze wandered back towards the table, where Woojin was sitting, and thought back to the tense atmosphere between Jeongin and the young police captain earlier. “Is that why you and Captain Kim…”

“His parents put mine in prison. It’s more than a little awkward, really.” Jeongin laughed, but the sound didn’t quite reach his eyes. The younger boy always tried to put on a bright face, Hyunjin realised with a pang, no matter the pain he might be hiding underneath.

“I’m not trying to compare my dad to Jisung. Jisung, everything he’s done…” Jeongin shook his head. “He has too much to make up for, I wouldn’t even know where to start. We all knew that going into this.” He glanced over his shoulder at the table where his friends were seated. “y/n more than anyone. If we make Han Jisung out to be innocent, if we try to get him pardoned...that makes us just as bad as Kang.” Jeongin sighed. “But I can’t just watch them treat him like they did my dad. Make him out to be a psychopath, until even he starts to believe it.

“My mum can’t find work anywhere. She doesn’t sleep, barely eats, never leaves the bed because she’s so sick. The doctors all say she has lifelong trama. I don’t want to watch the system...end another life that doesn’t deserve it.” Jeongin glanced behind him. Hyunjin followed his line of sight towards the table, where everyone was chatting. Jisung’s friends — Felix, Chan, maybe even Woojin; and his girlfriend, you. “I don’t want to see what it does to the people that love him.”

Hyunjin was silent for a long moment. The chatter at the table and the clinking of the coffee mugs seemed like background noise as Jeongin watched the older boy take in everything he had said. Outside, students and citizens were beginning to fill the streets as rush hour approached — it was the end of the school term, and the bustle of summer life was humming beyond the glass windows of Glow Cafe.

Before Hyunjin could respond, though, the cafe doors swung open, the CLOSED sign clattering against the glass in protest and making everyone look up at the sudden commotion. A middle-aged woman in a tweed blazer and pencil skirt was marching straight towards the table you were seated at, a younger woman with a notebook stumbling after her.

Hyunjin straightened up, tone professional despite the weary look on his face. “I’m sorry, but we’re closed today under special circumstances—”

She cut him off impatiently. “Where is Felix Lee?”

Bewildered, Felix stood, holding out his hand to attempt a handshake. Instead, the woman reached into her bag and slammed down a newspaper identical to the one you already had on the table — the school paper.

“What is the meaning of this?” Her voice was high and reedy as she jabbed a red-nailed finger onto the front page, where Jisung’s article had been printed. “Who do you think you are to publish these—these baseless stories?”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” you responded tensely, “I think you’ll find that this article contains more truth in it than all the articles the local press has published, combined.”

She turned on you, sneering in disbelief. “Do you know who I am?” You glanced outside uneasily, where a sleek black car was parked.

“Why do rich people always assume we know who they are? Listen, lady, we don’t care—” Chan began, but was interrupted by a sputtering sound Felix made.

“I think we should care,” your best friend choked out. In his hands was a business card that the woman’s assistant had handed him, and the blood had drained from his freckled face. “She’s the head of the local press.”

Everyone fell silent, and the woman smiled slyly. “Precisely. Publishing articles like these…” she glanced down at the school newspapers on the table, clicking her tongue. “Your school should be ashamed of you. An amateur school newsletter, overstepping their boundaries.”

You saw Felix’s expression darken at her words, ears red. “A good newspaper reports on all sides of the story. We publish the truth here, and nothing but the truth—”

“Why? So you can all bail your psychopath friend out of prison? Do you even care about the implications? Your truth is hindering the investigation of a convicted murderer. People like him should not get their story told. Your truth will put this town in danger if he walks free, you understand? It will get more people killed.” She fixed Felix with a withering look of contempt. “Let me give you a word of advice, young man, if you even think of surviving in this industry—sometimes, you need to know when to keep your mouth shut.”

Your mouth was burning with countless words to bite back with but your tongue stayed stubbornly tied, mind racing. The woman had spoken out loud what you had all thought of at one point, what you had been most afraid of the public believing. You stole a look at Hyunjin behind the counter. The barista was avoiding eye contact, but you knew he had been thinking the same thing. His stormy, unreadable expression made your stomach churn — you knew he had been the most hesitant and unsure of Jisung’s case out of everyone, but seeing it written on his face now made you feel even worse.

Sensing that things were beginning to get out of control, Woojin cleared his throat. “Ma’am, if you’re finished, I would kindly ask you to leave—”

“I have every right to stay here,” the woman interrupted viciously, snatching up the campus newspaper again, “until your journalist friend revokes these articles—and promises not to interfere with the investigation until the trial has concluded.”

You started in protest. “You—”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Hyunjin’s calm voice cutting through the growing chaos made everyone freeze and turn towards the barista. He pushed the cash register shut with a bit too much force, and leaned down to rest his forearms on the bar counter. “I told you we were closed, yes? You have no more business here. If you choose to continue infringing on my property, we can bring this to the police.” His eyes were still stormy as he stared the stunned woman down — but the words coming from his mouth were the complete opposite from what you had been expecting. “Now get out of my cafe.”

“I—why, you—” The woman could only sputter for several seconds as you all stared at Hyunjin in awe, the most self-assured expression you had seen on the barista in ages — as if he had finally made up his mind about something. Behind him, Jeongin had a small smile on his face.

“Preposterous,” the head of the press stammered, taken aback by Hyunjin’s bluntness. Her mouth opened and closed like a puppet’s, but no words came out. Finally, glaring daggers at all of you, she snatched her bag and stormed out in a whirlwind of nauseating perfume, her poor assistant barely keeping up behind her.

The silence lasted for several more moments. Hyunjin was still staring after her with a reserved expression, his shaking hazel pupils the only indication of how nervous he was.

Felix was the one who finally spoke first, the wide grin in his voice breaking the tension. “Hwang Hyunjin. You are the man.”

━━━━━━━━

Opening the door to Bang Chan’s office sent clouds of dust into the stale air, and the detective into a coughing fit. Chan moved to snap the blinds open, letting evening sunlight warm the musty room.

“Bloody hell, Chan,” Woojin groaned as he patted the dust from the coffee table in the corner. “I was joking about your office being a coffin before, but—how did you let it get this bad?”

You, Hyunjin, and Jeongin followed the police captain into the room, taking tentative seats around the coffee table as the detective tried in vain to open a window and clear the stuffy air.

“I haven’t had any new clients since this case was taken from me by that damn prosecutor,” Chan protested indignantly, grabbing a notebook and pen. “I’m taking a well-deserved hiatus. B’sides,” he added, sighing, “I don’t exactly have the heart to focus on anything else right now.”

Woojin grimaced, and looked around the room. “We’re waiting on Felix?”

You nodded. It had been nearly a month since the first article had been released — a whole month since the head of the press herself had come storming into Glow Cafe, demanding for the publication to be stopped. You weren’t sure if it had been the woman’s biting remarks or the newfound support from Hyunjin, but Felix seemed to have hit the ground running, publishing story after story and going head-to-head with every article the local press put out.

The articles were beginning to pick up steam, too — as soon as the school year had ended, the entire town had begun buzzing with talk about the contradicting stories. You should have felt relieved that your last-resort plan had even stood a chance — but the longer the fight and investigation went on, the more you could feel the stress weighing down on your shoulders. Though removed from the investigation, Chan and Woojin came to you with more and more bad news they were able to overhear with each passing day. The trial was scheduled for next week, and you hadn’t heard from Jisung since...well, since you had found him, bloody and broken, in the back lot of Mia’s Diner.

“Things aren’t looking too good,” Woojin began, expression grim. “The prosecution’s claimed custody of the camcorder footage and Jeongin’s Walkman tapes. Seungmin’s legally not allowed to touch them anymore—not without Kang’s permission.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach at the police captain’s words. You, Chan, and Seungmin had all been warned separately to stay out of the investigation by legal officials, but that hadn’t stopped you from gathering what information you could. You should have known Kang would find a way to get ahold of all the evidence, but nothing could have prepared you for the sick feeling the confirmation stirred in your gut.

Chan sighed, tapping his pen on his cheek. “Far as I know, Jisung still isn’t taking a lawyer. The kid won’t even talk to me now.”

“How’s the trial going to work, then?” Hyunjin asked. “If the kid doesn’t take an attorney…”

“It’ll be his word against Kang’s,” Chan nodded glumly. “It’s a trial held under special circumstances. The prosecution will present all the evidence they choose, the judge and jury’ll listen to all the witnesses who decide to come forward, and then they’ll use that to form the final verdict.” He paused, then added, “And if Jisung chooses to defend himself, he has the right to speak, too.”

“Except he won’t,” you interjected, heart heavy, remembering Jisung’s face when he had told you about his parents’ deaths. Jisung had spent his entire life living in the shadow of guilt his childhood cast over him, a self-induced hell he forced himself to relive every day.

“Kang has the jury, the witnesses, and the evidence,” Jeongin thought aloud, the sentence alone making the air feel heavy.

“We’ve all been called to attend the trial, yeah?” Chan nodded at you, Woojin, and Hyunjin. “Us, Felix, and Seungmin can only come as spectators. Jeongin’s been called in as an eyewitness.” He frowned, counting off his fingers. “The only other type of witness Kang can bring in would be an expert witness. Medics, psychologists, that sort of thing.”

“Kang’s clever — he’ll probably bring in child psychologists or medical specialists,” Woojin noted, frowning. “It’d be easy for them to cherry-pick the evidence to use it against Jisung — especially since he refuses to speak to anyone right now.”

“Haven’t they found anyone for Jisung?” You asked desperately. “His old social workers, foster families —”

“He was abandoned over a decade ago. None of his social workers have come forward.” Woojin sighed. “But you’re right — they have found a forensics specialist to come testify.”

Jeongin perked up. “Who?”

Chan looked grim. “Head coroner Lee Minho.”

Your heart sank. Lee Minho. No one was willing to address the elephant in the room: that Minho admitting to his own crimes would be one of the easiest ways to avoid a death penalty. Except…

“No one on the prosecution knows what Minho’s done, and we don’t have any incriminating evidence against him, either. They won’t believe us, and there’s no way he would confess,” you muttered, remembering the uneasy conversation you had had with the coroner on the rooftop. Minho had been hiding in the shadows of Jisung’s self-destructive crossfire his entire life. From the coroner’s unreadable eyes to his strange, reserved attitude, you had no idea how to guess his next move.

There was a knock on the door, and everyone looked up as Felix walked into the office, backpack sliding off one shoulder. “I have good news and bad news,” your best friend announced, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa.

“Bad news first,” you answered immediately, groaning. Good news was rare these days. “I want to get it over with.” Hyunjin nodded in agreement, looking at Felix expectantly.

“The head of the press is still up our asses, believe it or not. She’s changed her strategy — they’re making bribes now.” Felix fished a slip of paper from his bag. “Someone came in today — dressed real proper and business-like — and told me that if I halted publications, they’d be willing to pay a pretty hefty sum.” He flipped the slip over onto the coffee table.

It was a cheque, you realised. Chan whistled as he read out the amount. You looked back up at Felix, holding your breath.

“I took the bribe,” Felix admitted, tone apologetic, and your shoulders slumped. Your last connection to the investigation, gone — but Felix kept talking, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I took the bribe, and we used the money to buy everyone in our department the most expensive coffee on campus. Actually, thanks to them, we pulled an all-nighter and published the last part of your case study this morni—oof!”

Your best friend was cut off when you tackled him into a hug, nearly tumbling backwards as Felix laughed and patted your back. “Felix,” you declared, voice still shaking from how scared you had been, “You are ruthless.”

“One of my many charms,” he grinned, Hyunjin clapping him on the shoulder. Felix pulled away from you, and his hazel eyes suddenly grew serious as he scanned your face.

Out of everyone at Miroh Heights, Felix had known you the longest — if anything was wrong with the other person, you were always able to pick up on it. Despite your relieved smile, Felix could see how overworked you were — you had been reading up on past cases nonstop, making phone calls, and making notes on the camcorder footage, no matter how much rewatching it traumatised you to the core. From your bloodshot eyes to your pale lips, anyone could see that the upcoming trial had taken the worst toll on you. “y/n,” he said worriedly, “you need to take it easy.”

You sighed, scrabbling a hand through your dishevelled hair. “How can I? I need to keep working on this — I need to be strong.”

“You’ve always been strong.” Surprisingly, it was Hyunjin who spoke up this time. For the first time in weeks, there was no more anger or bitterness in his voice — only sincerity. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You tried to give him a small, grateful smile, but even that couldn’t staunch the bubbling anxiety in your gut. “The trial’s in a week. We can’t let up now.”

You could sense the boys looking at you anxiously until Chan finally clapped his hands, breaking the grim silence. “Well, you heard the boss lady.” The detective winked at you. “Let’s get back to work, boys.”

━━━━━━━━

The courthouse lobby was already overflowing with chaos and reporters by the time Prosecutor Kim Seungmin arrived at its doors.

This wasn’t his first time attending a trial, of course, but the scale of it all was what made him uneasy. Citizens of Miroh Heights were huddled outside the gates, catching whatever glimpses of the trial and snippets of information they could. When Seungmin had elbowed his way into the building, he spotted security guards flanking all the entrances.

There was a sign for the bathroom on his left hand side. Seungmin made a beeline for it, pushing open the doors and allowing himself to escape the pandemonium for a couple of moments. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he saw a familiar figure standing by the sink.

Prosecutor Kang’s eyes met Seungmin’s through the mirror and the older man straightened up, snakelike mouth curving into a smile. “Ah, Prosecutor Kim. Good to see you.”

Seungmin nodded stiffly as he tried to muster up the courage to walk past his colleague. He could feel Kang’s beady eyes watching him contemplatively.

“Are you still beat-up about the case? You must be,” Kang mused, turning back towards the sink and flicking on the tap. “Don’t get yourself too down about losing it. It was only a matter of time.” If Seungmin didn’t look at him, Kang’s tone sounded almost kind.

Almost.

Kang was here on behalf of the prosecution, with his team of carefully selected witnesses and—Seungmin was willing to bet—jurors. Seungmin had barely landed a spot as a spectator in the trial, alongside Felix, the school journalist. If things went Kang’s way, anything and everything that happened in today’s trial would be completely out of Seungmin’s control.

“Rookie mistakes,” Kang continued, wiping his spectacles. “It’s to be expected at your age, really—”

Seungmin ignored his passive insult and turned back towards Kang, tone pleading as he tried one last time. “Mr. Kang, you don’t have to do this. Han Jisung—”

Kang barked a laugh, cutting him off. Behind his spectacles, his eyes were filled with equal parts amusement and resentment. “I’m not sure why you young people always have such blinded judgement,” he seethed. “He’s a monster.”

“He’s just a boy,” Seungmin shot back, heart pounding at the way surprise flashed on Kang’s face. He had never dared to challenge his colleagues before — especially not Prosecutor Kang — but he forced himself to stand his ground as Kang finally turned around to face Seungmin. He was silent for several tense moments, slowly drying his hands before picking up his briefcase. Then, Kang’s expression smoothed over as he raised an eyebrow at the younger prosecutor.

“Not in my court of law, he isn’t.”

He had walked briskly out the door before Seungmin could muster a reply. The commotion outside grew louder before it was muffled again by the closing doors, and the younger male was left in the dark, empty washroom, filled with an increasing feeling of dread.

━━━━━━━━

Jisung jerked forward when the prison bus came to an abrupt halt, nearly slamming his head against the front seat. He tried to shake himself out of his daze and turned towards the window, tired eyes adjusting to the morning sunlight. Outside was the town he had grown up in, and yet everything felt so...different.

As soon as the bus doors swung open, swarms of reporters surrounded its sides. Two policemen roughly escorted him through the crowd, and he could vaguely register the questions being screamed at him from every angle.

“Han Jisung, is it true?”

“Did you kill all those people? Did you set fire to your own home?”

“Will you plead guilty? Will you plead insanity?”

Insanity? Jisung’s mind flashed to the memory lapses every time he...killed, the gaping black spots in his thoughts, the endless throbbing in his temples that never quite went away. His head was swimming, but his body felt numb. Have I gone insane?

Once they were inside, he was ushered further down the hallway into a side room. A stone-faced clerk in a grey suit nodded at the policemen, then fixed his hawk-like eyes on Jisung’s unfocused face.

“This is him?” He asked dubiously, then cleared his throat. He didn’t move to shake Jisung’s hand. “Well, then. You refused to take an attorney or public defender, so, uh...your trial will be held under special circumstances. The judge will hear the witnesses, the evidence, and anything you have to say. Got it, kid?”

Jisung couldn’t will himself to form any words. Everything sounded as if he were underwater.

The man coughed nervously. “As long as you cooperate, things shouldn’t be too bad, eh? Although from what I’ve heard about you, I wouldn’t keep my hopes up.”

Jisung could sense the official’s eyes raking him up and down in slight distaste at his silence. As Jisung quietly took a seat in the corner, he could hear the man muttering irritatedly to the guard by the door and chuckling.

“It’s always the messed-up kids, huh?”

━━━━━━━━

You watched as the courtroom slowly filled with people — reporters and spectators huddling around you, clerks and attorneys taking their places in their respective boxes. You were sitting with Bang Chan, Felix, Woojin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin near the bar, watching the members of the jury shuffle in. They were all somewhat familiar faces — students, professors, and citizens, as Bang Chan had guessed — and you felt a small glimmer of hope every time you recognised someone.

The prosecution’s witnesses were beginning to file in on the opposite side of the room, as well: A stocky boy with a swollen, bandaged nose, and a scrawnier one, also heavily bandaged — the only survivors, you realised, shuddering — from that terrible night at Mia’s Diner. Then there was Jeongin, whose face made you relax slightly. Next to him, though, there was a nervous old woman who you didn’t recognise, and an unfamiliar middle-aged man. And of course, pacing back and forth behind them, like a panther on the prowl, was Prosecutor Kang.

Every time the doors swung open you couldn’t help but look up, heart hammering in your chest.

You were really only looking for one person, after all.

Sure enough, the heavy oak door in the corner creaked open, and a familiar flash of golden hair made your breath catch in your throat. Flanked by two stone-faced officers, Jisung entered the courtroom.

You immediately leapt to your feet, and heard Chan whisper in warning. “y/n.”. The detective’s tone was gentle, but you didn’t have to turn back around to imagine the alarmed look on his face. Your eyes were glued on Jisung, and it took every fibre of your being not to sprint up to him, push past the guards, and pull him into your arms. You were shaking with equal parts relief and horror as you took in the sight of him.

He’d lost weight, his skin was pale and bruised, but his eyes — you felt your mouth go dry. The eyes you had seen fill with both laughter and sadness, light and darkness, were now completely lifeless. As if he wasn’t really seeing anything at all. You felt hot tears prick at the back of your throat and you clapped a hand over your mouth to keep from calling out his name. You had thought you were prepared, that you would force yourself to stay calm at all costs — but now, as the weight of the situation was finally beginning to sink down on your shoulders, you weren’t so sure you would be able to.

You felt Felix’s hand gently tug at yours, the only thing anchoring you to reality, and slowly sat back down, your hands grabbing fistfuls of your cardigan to keep from shaking.

Jisung found you in the crowded courtroom before you did, and the split second he caught your face soothed an ache in his chest he’d been trying to ignore, like a long-neglected wound. Seeing you alive and breathing — when the last memory he had of you had been one where you were bleeding out in his own hands — sent a bittersweet pang through him, the sheer relief overwhelming him to the point that he felt his own knees buckle. To anyone else, you looked almost normal, he thought — but he would have been a fool not to catch the dark circles under your eyes, your shaking hands, the raw worry that had etched itself into your weary features.

As soon as your eyes flickered up to him, Jisung immediately looked away, a voice in the back of his head seething. Coward.

His gaze wandered around the room and he was instantly met with a mix of hostile glares and fascinated stares — like an animal that had been chained down. Wherever he looked, dozens of eyes were on him, dozens of blazing lights searing through him and pinning him to the spot. It was almost as if he could hear the spectators’ thoughts, the countless names that the local press had called him ringing through his head. The youngest mass murderer of Miroh Heights. A walking psychopath. The soon-to-be-convicted serial killer.

“Order in the court,” you heard a man next to the judge call out, and a hush swept across the room. The judge — a middle-aged woman in sombre black robes — nodded. “The trial is now in session. The case of Han Jisung, and the Miroh Heights Murders, Your Honour.”

Kang moved forward and cleared his throat.

“Your Honour, today I intend to prove the defendant guilty of nineteen counts of first degree murder, as well as a history of crimes spanning over a period of thirteen years. This includes eight counts of arson, including the defendant’s own home, and five counts of aggravated assault, including the attack of Yang Jeongin three months prior. The numbers are based on the images of the victims we showed him that he recognised.” Kang gave a deliberate pause, flashing a look of disdain over where Jisung was seated. “He has violated Sections 235 and 435 of the Criminal Code, and the prosecution intends to prove him fit to receive capital punishment.”

Capital punishment — the death penalty. Kang was doing exactly what you all had feared, and his words and self-assured attitude made you feel sick.

“Does the defendant have any opening statements?”

Your eyes flickered to Jisung’s face — had his expression darkened? His features had stiffened into a cold mask — lifeless eyes, sickly pallor, clenched jaw. It was almost as if he was trying to fit into Kang’s description of him, you realised with a sinking feeling. To your dismay, Jisung stayed silent, and the judge cleared her throat.

“Please call upon your first witness.”

You watched the nervous old woman from earlier wobble forward and introduce herself.

Kang had pulled out images of a familiar crime scene — the burnt-down flat on the outskirts of town, where the remains of a woman identified as a local sex worker had been found. The night of your first date, you thought, grimacing. “Where were you, the night of this fire?”

“I was making my rounds through this neighbourhood,” the old woman began, fingers trembling as she pointed at the images. “I happen to live ‘round there, and I own some of these flats myself. This woman is—was—a tenant of mine.”

“Did you see anything suspicious prior to the fire?”

The old lady paused. “I thought I saw a boy lingering ‘round the alleyways. Holding his head and stumbling around real bad, pacing back ‘n forth like he couldn’t see clearly. ‘twas near the red-light district, so I thought he was just another drunkard.”

“Could you point to the boy you saw, stumbling through the alleyways?”

The old woman slowly pointed at Jisung.

“And what did you see, at around 10 o’clock, sundown?”

“I-I saw the roofs in my neighbourhood go up in flames. Ran as quick as I could, but the blaze was already too big to stop —” She shuddered. “But through the smoke, I could see the figure of a boy in the fire, escapin’ from the house.”

“Could you point to the boy you saw escaping the burning building?”

You watched in muted dread as she lifted another quivering finger in Jisung’s direction.

“There’s no way she could have seen clearly through all that smoke and fire,” you heard Woojin mutter behind you.

“Your tenant had no prior connection to him — no negative relations beforehand, correct?”

The old woman nodded. “Not that I know of.”

Prosecutor Kang hummed. “We have no reasons to believe this murder was provoked by the victim. And yet, that night, Han Jisung set fire to an innocent woman’s home — in cold blood. She was an outcast, no family or friends — he likely chose a victim that wouldn’t be missed.” He smiled, turning towards the judge. “That is all for the eyewitness, Your Honour.”

You grit your teeth as the old woman sat back down. Kang had called on his next witness — a chubby, red-nosed man who introduced himself as a child psychiatrist.

“The defendant refused to answer questions during the psychological evaluation,” Kang informed the judge smoothly. “We researched his past thoroughly—”

“Bullshit,” Felix muttered.

“—and reached our conclusions by analyzing the nature of his criminal history during his adolescence. We will also be consulting—” Kang motioned for the two boys to step forward, “His former classmates, who will testify on Mr. Han’s character.”

“He’s insane,” Chan whispered in horror, “He’s letting the kids from the diner attack testify on Jisung’s mental condition?”

“Please state your affiliation with the defendant.”

“We grew up in the same orphanage,” the boy in the buzzcut answered, his voice thick from his swollen nose. “Kid always stuck out like a sore thumb.”

“Did the defendant ever exhibit any strange behaviours during his adolescence?” Kang asked.

“He’d be missing from classes for days,” the scrawny boy piped up. “Always hoverin’ in the corner like a little creep. Sometimes even lightin’ things on fire. Never got in trouble though — always real charming towards the teachers.”

“Changed his expressions like masks,” the boy in the buzzcut added quickly.

Kang turned towards the child psychiatrist. “How would you describe the mental condition of a patient like Mr. Han, taking these testimonies and the defendant’s criminal history into account?”

“W-well,” the red-faced man began, sweaty brow furrowing. “Starting with his unexplained history of pyromanic tendencies — this destructive behaviour indicates the patient harboured violent habits from a young age. That’s often a strong indicator of various conduct disorders in young children.”

“But isn’t it normal for children to be curious, to cause a little trouble?” Kang smiled — he was playing the devil’s advocate, you realised uneasily. “You surely can’t sum up his fascination with fire as a dangerous condition.”

The psychiatrist nodded. “Of course not. But the patient was able to shift between personas from a very young age — like his classmates have said, he could be cold and reserved to them, but charming and cunning towards authority figures. This constant deception in young children, along with the destructive tendencies, is what often leads to sociopathic behaviour.”

“Sociopathy,” Kang repeated, and turned towards the judge. “Oh, dear.”

You looked on in dismay as Kang kept twisting the case like the strings of an ugly puppet, clearly aware of the way the jury and spectators were beginning to lean towards the prosecution’s arguments. With Kang’s carefully crafted questions directed at nervous, unsuspecting witnesses, everything seemed to point to one obvious answer. Han Jisung was a guilty serial murderer, there could be no question of it. Even the testimonies were beginning to blur together:

He went all psycho on us.

Laughing like some maniac, like he enjoyed it.

Murdered my friends for no reason.

At this rate, you didn’t stand a chance.

Kang needed one more witness — one more witness was all it would take for the trial to shift completely in his favour, and for you to finally lose hope. You looked around the room in desperation and spotted Minho seated on the prosecution’s side, the coroner’s smooth and mask-like expression doing nothing to calm your frazzled nerves. His words from the rooftop rang in your head, sending chills down your spine.

There is little you can do with people who don’t want to be helped, y/n. You’re just like how I was.

Was that why Minho had cooperated with the prosecution? Because he thought that Jisung was already beyond saving? As if he could feel your gaze burning into him, Minho’s eyes darted upwards to meet yours. You were startled to find that there was something unfamiliar in his expression; something that hadn’t been there the last time you’d met him — like a crack in a mask, a ripple in smooth water. Before you could decipher what it was, you heard Kang’s haughty voice calling Minho up to the stand, and the coroner turned away.

“Please state your name and status.”

“Lee Minho, forensic pathologist and head coroner of the Miroh Heights murder cases.”

“Could you describe the autopsy results of the confirmed victims?” Kang held up a remote and projected images of various crime scenes onto a screen. An uneasy murmur rippled through the jury and spectators at the graphic images — some, like the burned body of the woman, and caved-in skull of the man at the Yellow Wood, you recognized, but there were several more you never had the courage to look at before.

Minho glanced at the photos Kang had projected onto the screen, expression unchanging. You remembered his oddly empty smile when you had first met him, when you had asked him if the endless rows of corpses ever made him uncomfortable.

“I’m sure it did, at some point. Sooner or later, they all start to look the same.”

“Yes. Well, as you can see, the victims’ bodies almost always showed signs of excessive force and trauma. Victim #1, Na Jangmin, was pronounced dead on scene from smoke inhalation and respiratory burns from the combustion of various chemicals found in the science laboratory.” Minho pointed to a gruesome image of a peeling, shrivelled corpse that made your skin crawl.

“Victim #2, Park Beomsoo. Died from asphyxiation. The victim had a high dosage of flunitrazepam — Rohypnol — in his system prior to his death.”

“And what is Rohypnol, Mr. Lee?” Kang interjected.

“It’s a powerful tranquilizer drug. Small amounts are sold as sleeping pills, but high concentrations can cause paralysis, or even loss of consciousness. It’s a common date rape drug.”

“Did the victim consume the drug of their own accord?”

“The concentration is too high to have been used as a sleeping pill dosage. The victim’s time of death was around noon, on campus, so there would have been no reason to for him to consume the drug. We detected traces of food in Park’s body along with the drug, but we don’t know where the drug came from.”

Kang turned towards the judge triumphantly. “Shortly after the drug took effect, the victim was pronounced dead. This was a premeditated crime. The defendant drugged the victim’s food, and slowly suffocated Park Beomsoo to death. Taking the defendant’s mental condition into consideration, Your Honour—” Kang gave a meaningful nod, a dark glint in his hawklike eyes, “I would argue that the defendant may have enjoyed the process of committing the murder.”

It took the last ounce of your self-control not to leap up from your chair at his words. Seemingly unfazed, Minho kept talking. “You can also find strange correlations between the victims. We always deduce signs of brute force exerted, and a pattern of victims: people with a history of abuse, adultery, and harassment. You could say that this killer...hunted killers.”

“The defendant’s M.O., Your Honour,” Kang added, nodding. “The constant pattern of victims and killing styles confirm that these were premeditated murders, habitual murders.”

You felt your heart sink, feeling sick. Beside you, Woojin had his head in his hands. Your last hope had gone down the drain. You should have known the coroner would play along, that he would never give himself in; that Lee Minho was the type to always save his own skin before saving others’—

“However,” Minho spoke up again, “I’d like to add that all the crime scenes are also always impeccably clean. We observed minimal blood spattering, DNA evidence, and even fingerprints. Some wounds on the victims’ corpses didn’t match the hypothesised murder weapons, and were ready to become cold cases.”

“Evidence that the perpetrator of these murders was also able to plan their clean-up afterwards,” Kang flashed the coroner a strange look. “Ladies and gentlemen, this only shows that the killer is meticulous and calculated in his attacks. As I’ve said, this is an insidious, long-seasoned killer we have on our hands—”

“You might be wondering why the evidence for this case is so scattered,” Minho’s mild voice cut him off, and Kang looked irritated at the sudden interruption but let the coroner continue. “Why the killings are so sporadic, always occurring at irregular intervals.” He paused, thinking. “Why nothing seems to fit together.”

It took several moments for his words to hit you, and you lifted your head in disbelief.

What? You turned to your friends, who all looked equally confused.

What is he trying to say?

“I remember recording that the deduced weapon at the Yellow Wood attacks was a hammer, or crowbar.” Minho nodded at the papers in the Judge’s hands. “That’s not true.”

All the heads in the room seemed to snap up in shock at the coroner’s blunt words. You felt your breath stop, and looked over at Chan, whose expression was just as stunned.

“The weapon of choice was actually a stone from the Yellow Wood,” Minho shrugged. The coroner set down the papers Prosecutor Kang had handed him, turning to face the jury. “If you dig around in the lake outside Miroh Heights Hospital, you might be able to find it. Then there’s the vodka from the fire, the knocked-over chemicals in the science laboratory, a janitor’s rope from the rooftop. They were all impulsive weapon choices,” Minho nodded at the judge, “all from the scene of the crime. As if the perpetrator had chosen it on the spot, in a fleeting moment of impulsive judgment.”

You saw Kang sputtering behind him, mouth opening and closing uselessly. The Judge was evidently taken aback, too, peering at Minho from over her half-moon glasses. “What are you trying to say, Mr. Lee?”

“That it should be obvious that these crimes were almost never premeditated.” Minho glanced at the pictures of the crime scene. His voice was quiet — nearly inaudible — but exasperated, as if he were surprised at the words coming out of his own mouth. The entire room seemed to be leaning forward, listening to his words with bated breath. “They were done in the heat of the moment, and someone else had to tamper with the evidence afterwards.”

“How could you possibly know—”

“Because I’m the one who’s been cleaning up after Han Jisung for the past thirteen years.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock as a hush fell over the room, reporters gasping and scribbling in their notepads. Minho had a small smile on his face as he took in the entire room’s response — how everyone had fallen quiet, speechless at the sudden turn the trial had taken. The smile wasn’t gloating or cruel, you realised slowly. It was filled with a simple curiosity and wonder, like a child who had finally tried something new for the first time.

Even Jisung had looked up, his eyes widened in surprise. “Minho—” His voice was raw from disuse as he called out to his first friend, his oldest friend — but Minho only smiled at him and shook his head slightly.

The room was shifting uneasily around him. He should have been scared, Minho thought. He could already feel lies instinctively forming on his tongue, a thousand ways he could backpedal and take back what he had just said. It had become second nature to him, he realised — covering up murders first, and his own emotions second; the two things he had always feared the most. He could hear Kang angrily stammering and calling his name behind him, but Minho ignored him.

The judge cleared her throat unsteadily, fixing her piercing gaze on him. “Why are you doing this? You are aware that a confession like this will lose you much more than your job? That it may very well condemn you to a lifetime in prison?”

“I’m aware,” Minho replied softly, eyes wandering across the room and landing on Jisung’s distraught face. The boy he had clung onto as his only family, the boy who he had both loved and feared for thirteen years. There was nothing left for him to lose. “I thought for the longest time that covering the murders were my own twisted way of...saving the boy. I don’t think I had the courage in me to do much else.” He looked around the courtroom, and his eyes finally landed on you. The girl who wore her heart on her sleeve, but was strong enough to challenge him with a steady voice and blazing eyes. The girl who was an unapologetic contradiction, he remembered, almost fondly. The girl who had reminded him what it was like to be brave, to finally start living for himself.

Yes, he thought. This was the least he could do.

“Han Jisung had nothing to do with the cover-ups of the crime scenes,” Minho raised his voice, surprised at the strength in it. Behind him, he could hear the prosecution stirring, and felt two security guards seize his arms to remove him from the podium. “He is not the depraved killer the prosecution wants you to think—”

“Your Honour, this must be a set-up between the coroner and the defendant,” Kang cut him off furiously, shooting Minho a death glare behind his spectacles. The murmuring of the jury and reporters drowned out the coroner’s last words as he was dragged from the room. “Your Honour, do not be deceived—”

“Order in the court!” The judge banged the gavel repeatedly, holding her head in her hand as if she had a migraine. “The—the coroner’s statements will be deemed faulty, and Lee Minho will be dealt with separately. The trial will continue.”

The silence that settled over the room after the coroner’s outburst was eerie. You could feel your heart still pounding, mind racing over the words Minho had shouted over Kang’s, the almost wistful smile on his face as he let the guards drag him from the room. The coroner had been a wildcard, you thought uneasily, your gut churning with a cocktail of anticipation and anxiety. There was no telling which way the trial would go from here.

“Does the prosecution have any other witnesses?” The judge called out, and you saw Jeongin finally stand up. Words and whispers began flying as he made his way forward to the witness box, the citizens recognising the delivery boy immediately. You glanced over at Kang, who looked more relaxed than ever — and you knew why. Everything from Jisung’s camcorder footage to Jeongin’s salvaged Walkman tapes had either been confiscated by the prosecution, or were in Seungmin’s hands. Kang had been meticulous making sure that the younger prosecutor had no power over the case, banning him from interfering with the investigation for good.

Which meant that all Jeongin had to sway the jury was his own verbal testimony. One young boy’s word against Prosecutor Kang’s.

“State your name and status.”

“Yang Jeongin. Um, student at Miroh Heights University.”

Kang looked down at his papers, then back up at the judge. “On the night of the Yellow Wood attacks, Yang Jeongin was biking home after closing shift before he was brutally attacked by the defendant with a blow to the skull. He is the only living witness that has come forward to testify, and the only person who witnessed the defendant’s attack firsthand. Luckily, he was able to regain consciousness after the horrific attack.” He turned towards Jeongin, smiling triumphantly. “What he has to say may well turn the entire case upside down.”

He was clearly expecting Jeongin to give away evidence against Jisung, you realised. After they had told Jeongin that his tapes had been withdrawn from the investigation, the delivery boy had hit a dead end in his testimony. No matter what he said, Kang would be able to find a way to use it against Jisung. Sure enough, he was watching the young boy now like a vulture, ready to pick him apart.

But Jeongin only smiled back at Kang. “Actually, it’s not what I have to say, sir.” When the prosecutor’s face contorted in confusion, Jeongin continued, “It’s the things that you’ve said.”

Before Kang could reply, Jeongin reached into his pocket and pulled out something silver. The guards instantly moved forward, but Jeongin set it onto the clerk’s table, motioning for him to take it. After several moments, the low crackle of speakers connecting began filling the tense silence, and you realised what it was that Jeongin had brought with him.

A voice recorder.

“He didn’t tell anyone to make sure it wouldn’t get confiscated, too,” Chan realised, eyes widening. “Smart kid. But what could he have possibly recor—”

The detective’s awed voice was drowned out by a recording of another very familiar voice.

“Kim Seungmin. As you may have heard, the serial killer — ah, the Han Jisung case, I could say — has been transferred to me.”

Prosecutor Kang.

The room froze. When you looked at Kang, you saw that all the blood had drained from his face.

“Now, now — don’t feel too ashamed, Kim. Everyone makes rookie mistakes. They may have assigned the wrong case to you, but rest assured — it’s in proper hands now.”

“Is it?”

You winced, peeking at Seungmin beside you when you heard his voice on the recording as well. Seungmin had never mentioned the way Kang treated him to anyone, and the younger prosecutor’s jaw was clenched, but his eyes were blazing.

Still, you weren’t exactly sure why Jeongin was playing a recording of Kang and Seungmin’s conversation. What could he have possibly overheard, that made him look so confident now?

“Have something to say to me, Kim?”

“I’ve just — never understood the way you handled cases, sir.”

“Seungmin.” You could almost see the condescending look on Kang’s face. “Allow me to share a word of advice. They won’t teach you this in law school.”

Seungmin watched realisation flash across Kang’s face like he had been struck by lightning, but it was too late.

“Your job as a prosecutor is not to judge the defendant fairly.”

“Wh—”

“If you want a smooth career...all you need to do is make sure you’re appealing to the right people. In other words, listen to what the public wants. Please the public; don’t waste a single damn about the defendant. You spent all your precious time worrying your little head over the killer’s motives, and now that we finally have him, you’re still worrying over the severity of his sentence? Murder is murder, Kim Seungmin, and actions speak louder than motives. You can show lenience towards a mass-murderer, or you can sweep his sorry past under the rug and bring closure to dozens of families. Which would make you a richer, more popular man?”

“Your Honour,” Kang stammered, face white, “This is—improper use of evidence, this shouldn’t—” The recording cut him off again, the judge’s face stony as she motioned for the clerk to keep going.

“Is that how you got to where you are?”

“Think, boy. As far as anyone needs to be concerned, the cold-blooded killer is caught, peace is re-established, families are soothed, justice is served once again — and I come out the hero. You saw that boy’s wretched past. Even he can’t handle it. So why poke at wounds that aren’t meant to be re-opened?”

You didn’t realise how hard you were clenching your fists until you felt your palms sting from your nails. The entire room seemed to be holding its breath. Kang looked stricken, pale mouth opening and closing frantically like a fish out of water, but no words were coming out.

“You think you’re being kind? Justice isn’t meant to be kind, Kim. Make up the easiest case to solve, and do everyone a favour.”

The judge stopped the tape, her face livid. The room had gone deadly silent, your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. ““Your job as a prosector is not to judge the defendant fairly?””

Kang could only shake his head wildly as she continued, raising her voice, ““Make up the easiest case to solve, and do everyone a favour?” From a faulty forensics expert to this — Prosecutor Kang, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Your Honour, I—” Kang sputtered out, beady eyes darting around furiously — at Jisung, and at Jeongin. “L-lies! It’s all lies, this is absurd!” He laughed, trying to make himself sound nonchalant, but his voice was weak. “This must be a—a fabrication perpetrated by the defendant—” The room was erupting in chaos now, the jury and reporters bickering amongst themselves.

You had never seen the prosecutor so worked up before as he continued to protest frantically, “Your Honour, the defendant must have coerced the victim to do this, to—to frame me. Please listen to me, we must conduct another investigation—”

There was a deafening bang as the Judge slammed the gavel down, making the room jump. “There will be no investigation,” she thundered. “Prosecutor Kang, you are hereby removed from the Han Jisung case.”

Kang leapt up from his seat as officers appeared on either side of the prosecutor, seizing his thrashing arms. “Let go of me! Your Honour! Your Honour, you cannot do this. Han Jisung must be condemned — you cannot let this murderer walk free—”

“Silence!” The judge bellowed, and the last of Kang’s words were drowned out, the heavy oak doors banging shut as he was thrown from the room. Jeongin looked evidently shaken. He had been right. His last existing recording — the unlikely trump card — had flipped the case on its head. You heard frenzied whispers all around you as your heartbeat pounded erratically in your chest.

“Does this mean the prosecutor’s been fabricating all the evidence? Who can we trust now?”

“I’ve never seen a case like this before.”

“What’s going to happen to the trial now that the lead prosecutor’s been detained?”

The banging of the gavel eventually brought the restless audience to a strained silence. The Judge looked weary. “We need to take an emergency intermission. The trial...will recommence shortly.”

━━━━━━━━

You let the sea of people push you through the courtroom’s double doors, your legs threatening to collapse at any moment. Outside was hardly a breath of fresh air — all around you, cameras were flashing, reporters were gossiping, and officials were arguing. You tried to focus — to process what had happened, but the incessant buzzing of people chattering around you made your head pound so hard you swore your skull was splitting.

A firm hand on your shoulder yanked you out of your migraine, and you whipped around to see Hyunjin. You let out a small sigh of relief.

“Hey, it might be good to get out of this crowd for a bit,” Hyunjin said, taking in your exhausted expression worriedly. “I, uh, lost everyone, but if we step outside—”

Before he could finish, you both caught sight a blond head bobbing towards you in the sea of people. Felix pushed through, cradling his camera for dear life. His freckled face was sweaty and breathless.

“Kang—Kang’s lost all power,” he gasped out when he reached you. “Detective Bang’s managed to convince the guards to let him talk to Jisung for a few minutes—”

You had already seized your best friend by the shoulders and spun him around. He instantly got the message and the three of you began elbowing through the hordes of people, Felix leading the way.

The clamour died down to a quiet hum as you reached the hallways, Felix ushering you past an OFF-LIMITS sign. The corridors were nearly empty now, and the three of you sprinted to the end until you reached a heavy oak door. It was slightly ajar. You caught a glimpse of Jisung’s expressionless face through the dim crack, and your hand hesitated on the door handle.

“I told you and Woojin I wouldn’t give you any counter evidence.” Jisung’s voice was cold and lifeless.

“And you didn’t.” You could hear the growing agitation in Chan’s voice as the detective pleaded. “But you’ve got to listen to me. More people want you — need you — to keep living, more than you give yourself credit for.”

“Stop, Chan. You don’t have to do this anymore—”

“Han Jisung.” You couldn’t help his name falling from your lips, voice louder than you’d intended as you threw open the heavy door. The guards rushed to block you before you could get any closer, but you pushed back, forcing Jisung to meet your eyes. His were flat, dark, horribly cold.

“y/n,” he replied softly, and you felt your heart break.

“Why are you doing this?” You fought to keep your voice steady. “You have the right to speak for yourself. Defend yourself. You know what they’re saying isn’t true. So why are you letting them keep accusing you?”

“How do you know it isn’t true?” Jisung laughed humourlessly, shaking his head. “Don’t lie to yourself. I did kill all those people, and you know that.”

“I do. But you’re not the psychopath Kang is making you out to be,” you protested. “I know you.”

“You don’t.” Jisung’s voice was bitter. “You don’t, actually. I’ve always — always hidden parts of myself from you. What you’re hearing from Kang is the closest you’ll ever get. He — he knows me better than I know myself.” He smiled weakly, but it fell flat. “I’ve always been like this, drawn to murder and blood and fire. It can’t be fixed.”

Each one of his words pierced through you like bullets, and you searched his face frantically for a sign, anything left of the rain-drenched, smiling boy from the diner; the wounded, soft-hearted boy you had fallen in love with. Your heart was hammering in your throat as a horrible question echoed through your head.

Did he mean it?

It was as if Jisung had pulled on a mask, you thought. His face was absolutely still — but for a fleeting moment, you could swear you saw a flash of pain

No.

You had grown to know him, grown to know that he was the kind of boy who was willing to play the part of a depraved monster, just so you would push him away first.

Jisung stared back at you, and for once, the darkness in his wide eyes no longer scared you. Instead, endless memories were flashing through your mind.

Jisung making you laugh until you choked on Chinese food, and apologising profusely for hours afterwards.

Jisung spilling pancake batter all over your kitchen counter, and feeding you blueberries to make sure you didn’t notice.

Jisung, holding you in his arms until you fell asleep, hands as gentle as if he thought you were made of glass.

“You need to go,” Jisung broke your long silence. “Stop hurting yourself. You need to let me go.”

You looked up, taking in his slumped shoulders, the note of defeat in his voice, the facade he had pulled on during the trial, and everything hit you all at once. Maybe it was the stress of the weeks leading up to trial or your hatred towards Kang had finally reached its breaking point. Either way, an overwhelming feeling of sheer frustration was washing away the anxiety that had been thrumming in your veins for weeks, and it left in its place an unbearable, burning anger.

You felt yourself push past the guards as if in slow motion, a voice in your head telling you that maybe this wasn’t the best idea — and slapped your boyfriend across the face.

The slap wasn’t hard, but the sound that rang through the room felt deafening.

“Han Jisung, you are such an idiot,” you yelled. Guards immediately surrounded you, dragging you backwards, but you didn’t take your eyes off Jisung. He was staring at you, stunned, the stone-cold facade he had put on earlier now cracked wide open. “What do you think you’re solving this way? Do you know how many people have been working nonstop to make sure you don’t get yourself killed?” You could feel hot tears of frustration spilling onto your cheeks. “Your friends want you to stay alive. Your mother wanted you to stay alive. I need you to stay alive.” Your voice was hoarse as you screamed over the guards pushing you out of the room, and the heavy door swung shut with a deafening bang.

The silence in the hallway seemed to swallow you up, the weight of what you had just said and done crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. You felt your knees finally buckle as you sank to the ground, burying your face in your arms and finally letting all your pent-up tears fall freely.

Hyunjin and Felix were by your side, exchanging worried looks as they patted your back gingerly. You weren’t sure exactly how long the three of you stayed like that, your exhausted body racking with frustrated, mortified sobs, until you heard footsteps running down the corridor towards you.

“There you are— I’ve been looking for you guys for—” Kim Woojin’s breathless voice made you look up, and the captain did a double take. “Bloody hell, what happened?”

You wiped your reddened eyes furiously as Felix shook his head at the police captain, who was kind enough to take the hint.

“The thing is —” Woojin began again, tripping over his words. It was the first time you had seen the police captain so frantic. “It’s — it’s an emergency situation right now. A mistrial. The head prosecutor’s been thrown off the case, people are rioting—”

“This is a fucking mess,” Hyunjin muttered, but Woojin shook his head.

“No, it’s not,” the police captain exclaimed excitedly, “Not for us. They’re calling for a prosecutor who’s familiar with Jisung’s case to step up, asap. If there’s any prosecutor who was also working on the case—”

As if on cue, the intercom buzzed above you, making you jolt. “The court hearing for Han Jisung and Miroh Heights Murders will be resuming in five minutes. All attorneys, jurors, and participants of the trial, please report to the courtroom immediately—”

“Seungmin,” you, Felix, and Hyunjin all said simultaneously, and Woojin nodded. Felix was already pulling you to your feet, and the four of you broke into a run towards the courtroom.

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sasorikigai · 3 years

Text

A promise was a promise. And Yang was a woman whom kept her word too the best of her ability. Thus now there she was, staying in that safe haven house for herself and Scorpion to recover, after he had taken such a critical and devastating blow off her physical form. The old soldier knew just how close in that razor thin wire their soul had been too plummeting away from the world of the living, ever so familiar with playing a dangerous dance against the cold claws of death over her life. Like the two were old friends passing in the night on repeating long roads, whispers of comforting oblivion sang on winds of tempting rest, yet the shouting determination of life and memory drowning that all out into nothing. So this would be far different another time around, made even more obvious with the specter known as Scorpion ever watchful and growing so protective as to let himself feel such agonies of his host, of her form.

Which boded the ever curious question, could he ever really die if he was already dead? And on the flip side of those words, could he live? Not just breathe or feel a pulse, that was different… But to Live, pursue another chance on this earth in some other way. What a silly little dream, even sillier too want nothing more than help him achieve such a thing. Oh, Yang had done so much of her research, knew what could be waiting out there for this ancient soul if it was pursued. Would Hanzo Hasashi accept it, if given the option?

Various cups were filled with water, while such whimsical thoughts filled Yang’s head. Vocalization from her consisting of humming and softly sang songs so fill the small hide away house that had been being used for a time, one of her safe locations on this earth really. Sounds bouncing through the wooden hallways as her form moved about and watering the different plants scattered along. An avocado tree sprout just starting to get it’s stem thicker, a wildly growing mint plant with it’s vines curled long and powerful near a window, a few flowers on windowsill’s, and potted vegetables, such as komatsuna. A whistling sound echoed not long after her personal chore, a tea kettle having been heated, of which Yang darted for quickly to begin making tea.

The specific type of which had been chosen was the closest she could have managed for an older flavor of green tea. Specifically to try and bring some sort of feeling of home and comfort for the stalwart companion that had her back so often recently. The caring instincts had been steadily on the rise between them both, and now that ever beating heart Yang tried to keep carefully controlled withed for nothing more than to ease that ever burning soul. So it was with a tray of tea, and some carefully made onigiri, that she moved through the home to locate Hanzo. And only when she would find him, did her expression brighten into a gentle and soft smile. A ripple of balancing warmth and calming cool between the aether of magic and arcana free from her for once.

“Hey. I thought you could use a bit of a pick me up and we could talk. How are you feeling?”

Random Inbox Shenanigans || @yetremains || always accepting!

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Throes of suffocating descension, the serrating laceration that would almost sever him in two tore through him like a natural disaster, and it was all Scorpion could do to keep himself in one piece in both of their wake; to further scorch himself with the conflagration of maelstrom. As Netherrealm’s fire once slipped into every blueprint of his being, the corrosive, cauterizing flames saturated into his ravaged corporeality as Hanzo Hasashi’s Arcana resplendently glowed to something unique, untransferable, and precious. Perhaps it was a self-discovery Scorpion had long sought; the opening of an impalpable, transparent wall, that of his consciousness, between the world and himself. It is true that he senses his utter aloneless even with their Blood Connection, but how he transcends his solitude and forgets himself in his own precarious existence, as a spectral wraith.

Tainted emptiness persists, as his subconscious becomes arms that can embrace his insanity; yet, he has not learned that it should be as such, for Scorpion has not given himself what he tells Yang that this is deserved. For the world had been an empty region as Hanzo Hasashi’s indomitable, resilient body and soul disintegrated beneath the scorching tendrils of hellfire, even as he refused to expel the last breathe, his dark-hazel eyes staring blindly towards the sanguine squelch and six feet below, and even below that - as he submitted to unhealed scar tissue in order to drown in a hard pile of contempt and chagrin, buried under the wrong kind of muscle. The brutal barbaric winter’s wrath may still permeate his being, but spring slowly, yet gradually dawns emerald green and the crystals of winter may still course through his blood vessel, Scorpion no longer becomes torn apart.

For he is no longer delicate or vulnerable, and in the unstable equilibrium of his meditative stance, Scorpion no longer sees the hollowed graves of human remains of the Shirai Ryu, but of twitching hunger and aspiration pulsating within his magmatic bloodstream. Sitting at the exposed balcony looking over the promenade of the stroll garden, Scorpion feels his own obsession symbolized by metaphorical skin of his unblemished muscles, despite a lifetime of red perpetuating him and always coloring him red. Often times, his brain disconnects what he can feel from his soul, while everything goes slow in his corporeal sensations and all he sees is a blur. Perhaps he was stuck in-between realm of dreaming and sleeping, with his body see-through, his mind on autopilot mode. If it wasn’t for his halcyon flames unlocking further depth and scope of his Arcana, he would have come to terms once again with perpetuated loneliness and pain.

Upon familiar footsteps and even more familiar intonation of Yang’s voice, Scorpion lets himself torn apart from the shackle and mandible of his torment and reminiscence, as the impervious depth of his cataract white eyes regard her with the usual intensity and intent. “It has been literal centuries since I had the luxury of savoring a simple, yet fulfilling meal, it would be no greater agony than enduring the unsatisfied need inside me, and I sincerely express my utmost gratitude for fulfilling such basic, but seemingly impossible fantasy.” No longer, it’s the strands of time rushing by, nor haloes of livid bruises causing his desiccated body to break, crackling and swelling, as he would go through the endless cycle of being reincarnated without life. “My body is much less consumed beneath another fire that burns in its own flame that lasts for an eternity. I simply lament battles unwon without my triumph and glory - for the shadow of my former self grieves, for this shadow speaks of only grief, penetrated by rage and vengeance.” ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ hellfire fibrillating beneath his skin (iv)#(mortal kombat 2021)#(relationships; yang)#yetremains #submission

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toddperrys · 4 years

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As It Was

On a stormy night, Bolin is haunted by his former days of homelessness and abandonment, until Opal reminds him of how far he’s come. Based on @theorangestar comic about Bolin not liking storms until their child is born on a stormy night.

No one on this godforsaken website cares about Bopal content so I’ve taken it upon myself to create more.

I’m also opening up requests so please send me your ATLA/LoK prompts or anything else you might have in mind!!

Read it on AO3 Here

It was storms that took Bolin back to the streets of Republic City. He laid awake, listening to the rain striking the window and thunder cracking across the sky, even as Opal curled into his side and Ryu dozed in the adjacent room. Lightning forked across the night, accompanied by a blast of wind that rattled the house to its foundation. Bolin pressed himself into the mattress and tried to focus on the beating of his heart, but to no avail. Thunder rolled through the darkness and once again he was huddled in a half-rotted crate with Mako, deep within the maze of alleys and winding streets that make up the city’s poorest district.

“It’s just thunder, Bolin,” Mako said. Flames danced at his fingertips, and fear ebbed at the edge of his voice. “Nothing to worry about, we’re okay.”

Bolin buried his face into Mako’s scarf. He took a deep breath, hoping to push beyond the mildew and grime and find the musty scent of his father that always seemed to hide in the fabric’s folds.

The wind picked up and Bolin squeezed his eyes shut. “Mako, what if we live like this forever?” he asked.

A great boom ripped across the night sky. Mako’s flame faltered, and he pulled Bolin further into the corner of the box. “It won’t be like that, I promise.”

“How do you know?” Bolin said. Tears were welling in his eyes.

Mako hesitated. The wind continued to scream and the rain beat against the outside of the crate. “I just know,” Mako finally replied.

He started to cry now. Bolin could hardly remember his parents. They existed only as disembodied voices, a pair of hands reaching for him or a face just out of his memory’s reach, but he wanted them.

“Bolin?” Opal’s voice jolted him back to reality. She was awake.

“Opal,” Bolin said, caressing her cheek. Her hair was mussed and her eyes bleary with sleep, but the sight of her still made his heart leap in his chest.

“It’s late, is everything okay?” she asked.

He shifted, “Um, yeah, just couldn’t sleep.”

“You’re using that weird tone again,” Opal said, focusing her gaze on Bolin. “What’s going on?”

Bolin sighed and sat up. “I’m thinking about when Mako and I were homeless again.”

“Oh, Bolin,” Opal said. She moved to his side and put a hand on top of his, moving her fingers in slow circles over his skin. “You want to tell me about it?”

“It was just so lonely,” he said. “Mako took care of me, but he was a kid, too, and there was only so much he could do. When storms rolled in, we were just stranded in the cold and rain. I just wanted warmth, shelter, safety, something we could hold on to.”

Opal hummed and brushed her fingers up his arm and over his shoulder, bringing them to rest at the nape of his neck. She played with the hair there as Bolin exhaled and leaned into her touch.

“We’ve made other memories on stormy nights since then,” she said.

“Hm?” Bolin replied, closing his eyes as Opal’s fingers brushed his cheek and jaw.

She smiled, “Remember when Ryu was born?”

Bolin’s heart lifted. He could still smell the sea as he steered Juicy over the churning waters of Yue Bay in the dead of night. Opal was behind him, groaning from her contractions, and rain was pouring over them. Air Temple Island was just ahead, and despite every bone in his body screaming to go back, to give up on the midwife Pema recommended and thousands of years of Air Nomad tradition, he plowed ahead. He spent the night at Opal’s side as she cried out and crushed his hand in hers and the storm roared on. It finally broke at dawn, just as the first rays of sun were peeking over the horizon and his son was born.

Bolin took Ryu in his arms, squeezing himself into the narrow space beside Opal at the edge of her bed. Their friends and family were too numerous to fit in the room, and instead took turns fawning over the baby and loitering in the hall.

When it was Mako’s chance, he knelt beside the bed and Bolin passed him his nephew. As he cradled Ryu, the stoic mask he’d worn for years finally slipped, and Mako cried.

“That might’ve been the best day of my life,” Bolin said as the memory faded.

Opal laughed, “Might’ve been? What are the other contenders?”

“The day I married you,” Bolin answered, grinning.

A cry sounded from the next room.

Opal slipped out of bed and moved towards the door, “Ryu’s awake.” A moment later she returned with the baby and settled beside Bolin. He had stopped crying, and instead gazed at them with wide, moss-colored eyes.

“Not scared of storms too, I hope,” Bolin says as he took Ryu in his arms.

Opal smiled and leaned against his shoulder, “I think he just missed his daddy.”

Bolin pulled Ryu to his chest as he cooed softly. “You mind if we keep him in here tonight? With us?” he asked.

“I think that would be great,” Opal replied. She leaned over to brush a strand of inky hair from Ryu’s face and placed a kiss on Bolin’s cheek.

“It’s late and you have to be at the air temple in the morning,” he reminded her. “We should get to bed.”

“I know,” Opal sighed. “I just love watching you two together, you’re a great dad.”

Bolin’s heart swelled at the compliment. He shifted Ryu to the crook of his arm and with his free hand brought Opal towards him to press his lips to hers.

They pulled apart and Opal took Ryu from him, tucking him in the space between them. Bolin laid down, watching as Opal settled into place and the rise and fall of her chest evened into the steady rhythm of sleep.

The storm had died down, and all that could be heard was raindrops pattering outside. He felt something stir beside him, and looked down to see Ryu against his chest. His days of hiding on the streets with no one but Mako at his side were long over, he realized. He’d built the family he’d longed for during those nights, and with them he no longer had to weather the storm alone.

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dalgikiss · 4 years

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Catch-22 // h. iwaizumi

index

part 18

He wonders if maybe this is a nightmare and he’ll wake up any time soon but the digging of the purple nails in his skin are telling him this is not some twisted dream.

“Are you kidding me?” He snaps and Ryuoko looks just as scared and surprised as he feels. “What the fuck are you doing?”

It feels like time has slowed down for this very moment as he stared at her red face, confused and hurt.

“I- You weren’t supposed to see this…”

“Oh, my bad” his grip on her hands tightening and the feeling of her nails digging into his skin does nothing to phase him. “Should I just close my eyes and pretend my girlfriend isn’t cheating on me? Sorry, what a bad fucking boyfriend I am.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he spits out, “You made me choose between you or my friends and yet here you are, making out with some fucking guy in the stairwell but I was the bad boyfriend?”

The irony of the situation has dawned upon him and Ryuoko’s words about him being a bad boyfriend is the only thing he can currently recall, body burning with rage. “I spent all this time thinking that I was the fucked up one in the relationship, that maybe I was wrong for valuing my friends over my girlfriend but you’re over here, making out with some guy and still having the audacity for blaming me?”

“Well I-” Ryuoko stutters, shaking under Iwaizumi’s angry glare, her half-hearted excuses falling short on her tongue. “You were so busy with [name] that I-”

“That’s not an excuse!” his grip on her hands loosens as he lets go of her to throw his hands up in the air. “Whether or not I was busy with [name] because she is my friend, you don’t get a pass for cheating on me. You’re not even supposed to be cheating on me just because we got into a fight! We were still together!”

The mention of your name seems to jerk him out of his rant, a small reminder that he had to go find you.

“Shit, where is she?” He looks away from Ryuoko, eyes darting towards the other side where the vending machines were. You looked so small in the distance, struggling to put all the bottles into your hand.

“There you go again, always thinking about-”

“You really don’t get a say in this right now” He snaps, whipping his attention back to the girl in front of him. “You want to find a reason to break up with me so bad? I’ll just do it for you”

His eyes pierce into hers. “We’re through. Have fun with your new man whore”

He pushes past his now ex-girlfriend’s face of disbelief, breaking out into a run. Faster, his mind urges, faster and further away, and he listens, picking up the pace until it feels like his legs will fall off and he almost crashes into you.

You turn around, eyebrows raised and the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile as the bundles of drinks are held in your arms, teetering dangerously to falling out once more. He stands over you, trapping you within his arms as he braces himself from falling over.

“Haji! Thank god you’re here, I can’t- are you crying?”

The drinks tumble out of your arms as you cradle his face in your hands, thumbs gently sweeping away the stray tears he hadn’t realized had formed. He can barely register you asking him if he’s okay, your soft voice turning into static in his hazy mind and the way you bring him closer to you, caring eyes staring into his green ones as you gently coax him into letting you know what was wrong makes his legs feel like jello.

It’s you, it’s you, it’s you and your perfume is soft and smells sweet like vanilla and it’s nothing like Ryuoko’s harsh citrus one that makes his nose wrinkle. Your hands are so cold but they cool his reddened cheeks so nicely, almost like they’re made for it and when were your eyelashes this long and dark?

His eyes travel down to stare at your lips when you talk, green eyes watching the way your lips formed words and the quick flick of your tongue in between the questions you ask him. He wonders if your lips are as soft as they look and if they were as minty as he could faintly smell, did you just apply chapstick?

It’s you and he wants to kiss you until his lungs give out and press you into the vending machine with his lips melded onto yours forever but he's not sure if you like him, he wants you to like him just as much as he likes you, is that so much to ask?

You gently press your fingers into his cheek and his eyes tear themselves away from your lips when you ask him if he was hurt because yes, i’m hurting so much [name], it hurts, it hurts and he watches your face go from concerned to worried and then you’re frantically patting the arms that are still held high up on the vending machines for bruises and scrapes.

Your worries are spilling out of your mouth faster than he can understand them but he hears you asking where and why as your fingers dance across his arms and his shoulders.

“Ryuoko” He croaks out and you stiffen even amidst your frantic worrying.

“Ryuoko, she-” He hiccups, voice stuck in his throat, the words feel like cotton in his mouth and was his tongue always this big and clumsy in his mouth? “She cheated- We broke-”

He doesn’t say the rest of the sentence and you nod understandingly, gently running your thumbs over his eyelids.

Don't you get it? She likes you!

Iwaizumi blearily opens his eyes and even when you’re blurry from all the tears, you still look just as nice as he remembers, sweet and soft.

Kiss her

“Can I?” He asks you and you stare at him blankly because he doesn’t realize that he was the only one who heard his own thoughts

“Can you what?”

He licks his lips and bends towards you, lowering his face to your height and you wait. His breath fans over your lips, warm and inviting and he waits for you, gives you a moment to tell him to stay away from you but you don’t so he bends down and closes the gap.

He unconsciously groans against you, soft lips meeting his own chapped ones. His hands let go of gripping the vending machine and settled themselves on your waist cautiously.

There’s silence and then there’s the loud rush of blood in his ears as it reaches his face in blotches. Hesitantly, almost as though you don’t want to scare him off, you move your lips ever the slightest against his and then the fire in his veins comes alive and he presses you up against the vending machine.

He’s right, your lips do taste like the mint chapstick he smells all the time

Why haven’t I done this sooner?

You’re warm beneath his fingertips and he’s positive he’s burning, he can feel it throughout his body and he never wants to leave, not even as his lungs burn for air.

Your hands gently fist themselves in his shirt, crinkling the teal gym shirt underneath your fingers and he pushes against your lips harder, tongue flicking out when you open your mouth against his.

You push him back slightly and he obliges, but not without one last suck on your lower lip and he pants wildly in front of you.

“Hajime” You whisper, cheeks flushed and pulse racing and he watches you with eyes half-lidded. It takes every fiber of his being to be able to hear you over the thundering in his ears. “Not like this”

You cup his face between your hands, holding him like he’ll break and he just might with the pained way you stare at him, lips red and swollen. He strains against your fingertips, to kiss you or to bury his face in your shoulder, neither of you know.

You smile at him, lips pressed into a thin line as though it’s hurting you but you do it anyways. “Not like this”

The way you stare at him so lovingly and so firmly causes something to snap inside of him and suddenly he sees himself in the third person, his soul floating out of his body to take in his reflection. Swollen lips, tear trails and red cheeks, he looks like a mess as he gazes upon your face, leaning into your touch.

pleasepleaseplease

kiss me again

He wants this moment to last, he doesn’t want to let it go when he’s practically dreamed of this moment for so long, it bleeds into every crevice of his body.

Just one more

But you whisper to him it’s time to go, letting go of him to bend down and pick up the bottles that are scattered on the floor and he follows you numbly. He trails behind you like a shadow, the two of you walking in silence and when you both walk past the corridor where he saw Ryuoko, there’s a stutter in his step and you look back at him when he almost trips over himself.

It’s as though you can read his mind and he briefly thinks you just might be able to when you reach back to wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug him forward.

“There’s no one there” you say and he nods, the skin underneath your fingertips lighting up at the contact.

When the two of you finally reach your friends who immediately bombard the both of you, greedy hands searching for their drinks, you stand on the opposite end of him when you all walk home and Iwaizumi wishes you stayed near him instead.

Later that night, he finds himself tracing over his lips with the tips of his fingers, the ghost of you lingering over him.

When his phone rings with another message from Ryuoko, he turns around and blocks her.

For the first time in a long time, the weight on his shoulder has finally been lifted.

The feeling of his lips on yours was something you had dreamed about since you had finally realized your feelings for him but whatever your mind had conjured up was nothing compared to the actual thing.

His fingertips settled themselves on your hips jolted you into action, lips moving of their own accord against his while the shock wore off.

He was kissing you.

Iwaizumi Hajime was kissing you

The groan he lets out when he feels you moving your lips is sinful and your knees feel weak. You are more than grateful when he presses you up against the vending machine, your hands coming up to ball themselves in his shirt when his tongue comes out to tease you.

You briefly wonder to yourself if he was always this good of a kisser or maybe you were just over exaggerating it.

He tastes salty and you briefly remember that he was crying over Ryuoko before this and then you’re stopping because he was crying over his girlfriend -you didn’t really understand what she did because he was talking in broken sentences, but you still cared even if you had no idea what was going on- and you were over here kissing him like a fool.

Despite the little voice in the back of your head asking if you’ve turned into an idiot for pushing away the boy you’ve been after for months, you do so anyways. When he sucks your bottom lip for the briefest of moments before removing himself, you’re very tempted to crash your lips back onto him.

Why aren’t you kissing him? Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m an idiot

I really don’t think I should be kissing him while he’s crying

Listen, beggars can’t be choosers

Seriously? Why am I having an argument with myself?

You whisper his name and he pants wildly as he stares at you. “Not like this” you whisper, although it practically pains you to tear away from him. “You don’t want this”

He stares at you in a way you can’t describe but there’s a shiver that runs down the back of your spine and you drop your hands away from his face when your foot hits the bottom of a bottle. You’re reminded of your friends waiting for you outside and their drinks on the floor are now dusty.

When you bend down to pick up the bottles, he follows you blindly and you’re grateful he doens’t say anything more in fear of what he will say.

Is there anything to say after you just kinda sort of make out with your best friend after he just broke up with his girlfriend? If there is, you’d really like to know.

The walk back is shorter than you anticipated, your friends bounding over to grab the drinks out of your hands and only Matsukawa casts you a strange look at the smile you have stretched on your face. He doesn’t bring it up though and you silently thank him for not airing out your troubles in front of everyone.

Your lips still tingle from where his chapped ones pressed, face turning red as you recalled the memory and you can’t help it when a wide mouthed grin makes its way onto your face and you roll around to muffle your happy squeals into your pillow.

#iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi fanfic #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime imagine #iwaizumi hq #hq fanfic #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n

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fireballofinsanity · 5 years

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Tag dump: Mutuals and Important Characters! PART ONE

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justannadahfanfictor · 4 years

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Not always as it seems pt 2

This one is probably gonna be a lot shorter

Tanaka x reader, asahi x sister!reader

The next few days were painful, both for you and tanaka. Either you would be absent from school because you would cry so much you would make yourself sick or you would avoid Tanaka at all costs. Each time you would ignore him it would sent a quick sharp pain through your soulmate mark. On the 5th day Tanaka had had enough. It pained him to see the bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep and hurt him that you were ignoring him. He decided to ask asahi about what he meant that day. At lunch he pulled asahi to the side. “What did you mean by you’ve done enough?” He asked. Asahi sighed at his friend then started “ look man we’re friends, good friends but you broke my sisters heart. She won’t tell me much about what happened that day when she went to go confess her feelings to you, but the one thing she keeps telling me is she’ll never be kiyoko-san.” It dawned on him that you hadn’t heard the whole thing. “What no, noya’s dumb and said that because I couldn’t put into words how I feel about your sister. She must not have heard everything. I really wanna make it up to your sister and confess to her. I really like her man.” Asahi trusted that what Tanaka said was true. “Okay, I will help you, but if you ever hurt my sister again I won’t hesitate to put you 6 feet under.” He said.

Ove the next 2 days they had come up with a plan. The boys were even in on it. Asahi had said he needed you to bring his shoes to the gym because he had forgot them at home. You were weary about going to the gym because you didn’t want there to be a chance of running into Tanaka. At lunch you peeked in but you didn’t see Tanaka or Asahi. “Hi y/n, what’re you doing here” Daichi asked with a soft smile. “ I’m here to give azu his sneakers. You don’t know where he is by any chance do you?” You asked. “Oh he’s in the equipment room” he said pointing towards the room. You nodded and thanked him while walking towards the room. When you got into the room it was dark and you couldn’t really see anything in there. “Nii-chan” you called out while you walked into the room. Suddenly the doors closed and locked behind you while the lights flipped on. Standing there was Tanaka with a red rose. You panicked with tears in your eyes banging on the door. “Please guys let me out this isn’t funny.” You said. “Just hear him out y/n it’s ok I trust him” asahi said trying to calm you down a bit. You turned to Tanaka then but didn’t look him in the eyes. You looked down at your shoes while saying quietly with tears rolling down your face “ if this is your way of letting me down easy it’s really messed up. By now you can probably tell but I like you, a lot ryu. It hurts every time I see you, hear your voice, even just think of you, so please if this is just your way of calling me here to tell me you like kiyoko-san I get it.” “It’s not like that” he said panicing walking forward a bit. “ that day you heard nishinoya talk about kiyoko-san, we were actually talking about why I like you. I was so scared you wouldn’t like me that I couldn’t think of the right words to express how I feel about you. The part you didn’t hear was the words I finally said to express how much I like you. You’re funny, kind, sweet, caring and so smart. Not to mention you’re so so beautiful” he said with so much enthusiasm. “But kiyo-“ “ yes kiyoko-san maybe be pretty, but she’s not my soulmate” he said whispering the end part. He tilted your head to look at him “ I love you y/n” he said leaning in to kiss you. It was a short but sweet kiss that made you feel fireworks. You pulled away hugging him so tight feeling so much relief from the pain you were feeling all week. “I love you too” you said confidently. As the doors opened back up he said “ oh yea since the last rose got destroyed I got you one this time” he said handing you the rose and intertwining his fingers in yours with the other hand. You blushed taking the flower with a smile. Asahi smiles seeing that things went well for his little sister. Nishinoya was there bouncing off the walls congratulating his best friend because he was the first one out of them to get a girl.

Weeks ago you would’ve thought coming to karasuno high to be with your brother was somewhat of a bad thing, but of course things are not always as they seem.

Tag list: @purplefrenchfries

I’m sorry I know it’s trash but I really tried 👉🏻👈🏻

#haikyuu!!#tanaka ryunosuke x reader #haikyuu imagines

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spacehologramcollection · 5 years

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Kombat Krew Summertime Headcanons;

For one brief moment, the UK had some sunshine, now it’s gone back to raining and being windy. I blame Brexit. So, I wrote these whilst it was hot and finished them when it was pissing them down. The price I pay for living in the North and having beautiful landscapes, nice water and friendly locals; is that the weather will always be shit. I also went overboard for Kabal. As per. Warnings; Little NSFW, 18+ so it’s under the cut. Kano. But it’s a shitpost. Swearing, fluff, angst, all the usual shit.

GIFS do not belong to me.

Kabal;

· Just like his mom used to say, ‘Suns out, guns out’ He will literally wear little to nothing. The littlest bit of sun, and he’s already stripped down to shorts and a vest. He’s used to the heat and fucking loves it.

· He will take you on cute dates. Walks in the park, late night walks through the city, him driving an hour to get to the best places that sells shakes and ice cream. He’s down for it all.

· He loves that it doesn’t get dark till later on, it means if he’s working a late shift, he can still spend a fair bit of time with you.

· Summer means his bike comes out of the garage. He loves nothing more than to go for a long bike ride on a Sunday. He’ll sometimes go a bit quicker, just to make you wrap your arms around his waist tighter. But your safety is his priority.

· Cute. Fucking. Picnics. He can sort of cook, but he’ll love to just lounge about with you… then turn into making out with you.

· He’s deeply into PDA, he just thinks the world needs to know of your love for each other. So, he’ll always have an arm around you, taking selfies with you and just generally being cute as fuck.

· Will rock up and take you to lunch. You can go wherever you want.

· Swimming is on the table. He’s more into teasing in the water.

· At night you’ll have to forsake cuddling for hand holding. If it’s too warm to cuddle.

· He’ll let you play with the AC. He’s easy.

· Most of the above is Pre-Burn. Post-Burn is a lot different.

· He hates his body and doesn’t want to overly show it off in Public. It’s different on Missions but in terms of casual wear. He’s going to suffer through the heat.

· So, for the sake of him, you stick to cool places or stay at home.

· He prefers winter now. And at first, he won’t take as many selfies with you, but that will change once he feels more confident.

· The body thing won’t change, people can be cruel, and he doesn’t want to put himself or you through that.

· He’ll still sit half naked at home once his confidence has returned.

· His skin is also much more sensitive and can burn very easily. So, he has to stay in if it’s too warm. Or else it will feel like he’s on fire again.

· So cold baths and cold showers are on the table. With a little bit of teasing and a whole lot of body worship.

Sub Zero (Kuai Liang);

· What. Is. This. Fresh. Fucking. Hell?

· He hates this. He fucking hates it. It’s why he doesn’t visit Hanzo a lot. Or leave Arktika. Because he hates it.

· He won’t let on how much he hates it. No. He tries to suffer in silence, but you can tell by how uncomfortable he looks.

· Whilst he doesn’t melt or feel the heat overly, he is affected by it a fair bit. If it’s majorly warm, then he’s going to mildly be uncomfortable. That, and he has hay fever.

· When he wakes up with scratchy eyes, his throat on fire and he looks like he’s just been punched. He knows summer is here.

· He does like that you wear cute clothes in summer though. It does bring a smile to his face, and if you’re happy then he can live with the uncomfortableness.

· He grew up with the cold most of his life. So, he never really got experience summer. He never really got to experience much outside training to be honest.

· So, you’ll get to introduce him to fun summer things to do. All whilst he’s worrying about the Clan because Bi-Han is in charge.

· He has a sweet-tooth, so the fact you can both divulge in that pleasure is great. He’ll love to share his ice-cream with you.

· He also likes how cuddly you get in summer. How you cuddle up to him at night, press his hands against your face, neck, back, stomach etc. He is now your personal air conditioner. And he now understands Jonny’s joke.

· He doesn’t mind. He just wants to be close to you and feel close to you. So, he feels content with this. He’ll only feel comfortable doing it in private however. PDA is not his thing.

· At night, he loves that he finally gets to spoon you. His once cold hands that woke you up, becoming a relieving comfort. He wants to be close to you. He’s so touch starved and now he gets all the touch he wants. Even deep within the night.

· Kissing him as more refreshing than all the lemonade in the world. His mouth feels cold, and breathing him in, is like breathing in cold air.

· He’ll also be more inclined to lounge around with you with his shirt off, so you can lay on his chest, back pressed firmly against him. He’s getting to keep you cool and be close to you, and you’re getting the same. He sees this as a win, win situation.

· He knows summer makes him uncomfortable, not so much so its unbearable, he still has a human side. But you make it all better for him.

Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi);

· Summertime, unlike Sub, does not bother him in the slightest. In fact, the Shira Ryu Fire garden is in full bloom. Everything looks scenic and majestic as fuck. He has to admit he’s low-key relaxed.

· Training and meditation outside happen more so for him. He detests the cold. He’ll stand with a big coat on in winter. But Summer, he can relax, and everything feels so much calmer.

· He’ll love to take you on walks through the garden. Pointing out various flora and fauna. Telling you the Japanese names of all the flowers.

· He’ll also be more inclined to take his food outside and sit with you. The both of you sat in peace, enjoying each other’s company.

· The cool summer breeze will occasionally blow hairs from his man-bun, letting them cascade and frame his face. Which makes him seem less gruff and stubborn and softer.

· Night times with him consist of a lot of tossing and turning on your part. He’s warmer than average. Which means when it comes time to cuddle, he’s making you warmer. He feels bad, but he also likes to hold you in your sleep. Like Kabal, you compromise and fall asleep holding hands, or back to back. As long as he can feel you’re close he can rest easy.

· He likes tea, but he knows this weather is not the best for a searing hot cup (Unless you’re British, then there is always time for tea), so he’ll bring you ice tea.

· He relaxes a little more in summer, his guard is ever so slightly down, and you swear you can see him smile. He has a bad experience with ice and snow, so it is understandable.

· When it’s just the two of you, he will let you make and put a flower crown on him… only if he can put one on you first.

· He’ll also be more inclined to sleep butt ass naked. So, you get that view to wake up to. Which is always a bonus.

Cassie Cage;

· Summer time is her jam.

· Lots of cute drives out with her, getting cold drinks and generally bumming about.

· It’s not often she gets free time, but when she does, she wants to spend it with you. Especially in summer.

· Swimming in the Special Forces pool. She’s sure you’re meant to swim laps in it. But you know, it is too fucking warm for that shit.

· She lives for shopping in summer. Picking out cute outfits. Not matching but co-ordinated.

· She still likes to exercise in summer. She is a fucking machine. She doesn’t expect you to wake up and run with her… but maybe if you’re awake when she gets back, you can go for a walk.

· In terms of walks, nice scenic woods and forests. Something more of a gentle walk and more relaxing than a hard-core hike.

· She is the type of person to take surprise selfies of you. Ones she prints off and hangs on the wall, with those little LED clips.

· She’ll love to sit out on your balcony or porch, talking shit over a bottle of wine and relaxing.

· Fruity fucking cocktails are the devils work and she will get wasted on them. You both will.

· Johnny always throws a BBQ. He doesn’t cook, but Cassie will always invite you around. So, you can enjoy some good food with her.

· Lots of cute photos.

· If it’s way too warm, just sat around catching up on TV and drinking some sangria.

· Theme parks are also on the cards, she loves going out and experiencing life as much as she can! And she loves the adrenaline that comes from riding rides!

· Long night drives, in which you wake up at the coast or the lakes for a surprise weekend. Consisting of walks, lounging, fishing, quad biking, swimming.

· And of course, Cassie splashing you in the sea and running away.

· A summer with Cassie is memorable and always an adventure to conclude!

Erron Black;

· He loves warm weather. Texas was warm and so is Outworld. He’s used to this weather and it’s normal for him.

· Where he is will depend on where and what you are going to be doing.

· Outworld will consist of lots of banquets, lounging around and horse riding.

· He wants to show you everything Outworld has to offer. Whether you be exploring the sprawling markets, or if you’re bathing in one of it’s not so secret waterfalls.

· You’re going to be going out at the crack of dawn and returning with the fireflies.

· He’ll love to take you to the parties and banquets that Kotal throws.

· He’ll be all over bringing you a drink over and having an arm around you.

· Dancing the fucking night away, not caring if you both suck ass at it, he will not be opposed to dancing with you.

· If he’s still in the Black Dragon, then expect lots of days out. Shopping, grabbing lunch, grabbing a bite to eat. All the usual.

· Also expect for him to cook some old recipes for you, for the both of you to enjoy out in the garden.

· At night he’ll still want to hold you, but he understands how warm it can get. He’ll also not sleep with covers or clothes on. So, what a sight for you in the morning.

· The warm weather makes him a little hornier than usual. So, there is that.

· He’s not corny or cheesy, okay maybe a little at times, but he will love to watch the sun set slowly with you. Doesn’t matter where you are, he will want to watch the sun set with you. Whisky In hand and your favourite drink. Just enjoying the comfortable silence.

· Watching the sunset turns into stargazing and him telling you all the stories of the stars and making up new ones for the ones he cannot remember.

Fujin;

· He is not a fan of warm weather. He can keep himself and you warm if you so please however! He is the god of wind after all!

· He’s not sure how to spend ‘summer’ since he’s not really ever had the chance to enjoy himself. So, he is down to follow your lead.

· He only asks for one thing. Please help him braid and keep his hair off his back. He hates warm sticky days, because it causes his hair to stick to his back. And it is his pet peeve.

· He is less versed in Mortal customs than Raiden. His time on Earth has been White Lotus based. So, he’s in for a fucking treat.

· He would love to go to something like a museum or an aquarium. If it’s warm and sunny outside, he wants to go out and experience all there is!

· He’d love to visit a museum and look at all the art, historical artefacts and immerse himself more in Earth’s culture. His eyes go really wide as he examines everything.

· Aquariums are on the list, as the ocean has always fascinated him. He just hasn’t had the time to visit. When he tells you that he’s never really been to the beach. You’ll plan a day trip there. Since looking at fish is one thing, but him actually visiting the sea is another.

· When you go to the beach with him for the first time, he’s like over the fucking moon. He loves the ocean. The sound is so relaxing, and it fills him with peace. He kind of wants to meditate but then you ask if he fancies a swim.

· He can swim but not well… so you stick to shallow waters at first, before swimming a little further out. Nothing above waist height. He’s loving it.

· Whilst he is a Demi-God, nobody else seemingly notices. So, he will sneak a few kisses here and there.

· He’ll love exploring the city with you, trying new food and sitting on rooftop terraces. He will ask lots of questions and also compliment you a lot.

· Loves camping and will always take you camping when he can in summer. He’ll tell you all the stories he knows, you’re unsure which are made up and which are true. You don’t want to know because the excitement is in the guessing.

· He’s lived a long time, and can you tell you anything you want to know.

· At night if you cannot sleep, he will maybe, just maybe, if you bat your eyelids enough, conjure up a breeze to keep you cool. Not so much you’re cold but more of a comfortable breeze. Now you can both cuddle when you fall asleep.

· Whilst he doesn’t need a lot of sleep, he does rest and sleep more than Raiden. So, prepare for falling asleep around your little campfire under the stars with him.

· Fujin needs more love and more screen time.

Kano;

· Land Down Under starts playing.

· He’s butt ass naked, parading around.

· Smells worse than usual.

· Can cook a mean BBQ.

· But nobody wants to eat his food, because of his hygiene.

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bicvrious-a · 5 years

Text

{ closed starter for @ncnversations }

Although Kojima Ryuichi was undeniably talented, the lead singer was mostly known in the media for his scandals and out of control diva behavior. Many tried to change him, but the male was far too headstrong and narcissistic to play by anyone’s rules but his own. Despite the fact that his defiant attitude had got him into trouble with his record company countless of times, he always managed to get away with it somehow, because Ryuichi was their biggest star, their moneymaker, even if he was a nightmare to work with. After three long and gruesome years, he left his band due to ‘irreconcilable differences’, and because he wanted to focus on an international solo project. The truth was that his band mates were refusing to perform with him, so the company had no choice but to remove Ryuichi from the group. Ryu was bitter about it, at first, but leaving behind those ‘untalented hacks he was forced to carry’ had definitely been the right decision for him. If anything, it only fueled him with more motivation to succeed at his solo project, and make them regret their pitiful choices.

Moving to L.A. turned out to be even better than he thought it would be. While he was relatively unknown in the USA, Ryuichi relished in the drama of Hollywood and it’s exuberant nightlife. In between partying, he thankfully managed to find some time to work on his debut single. The song did alright in the charts, though it wasn’t a big hit, at least not at first. Out of the blue, his name blew up on social media, after he was photographed at a night club, locking lips with some other guy, who the press had mistakenly identified as rising young actor, Leo Xu. The more the news started spreading, the more copies of his song were being sold and his bookings went through the roof. While Ryuichi loved the attention, it didn’t sit well with him that people only appeared to be interested in his music due to some paparazzi mosquito screwing up. However, his company wouldn’t allow him to clear up the misunderstanding. In fact, they had struck a deal with Leo’s management, without even consulting with him first, to go along with the narrative of them being a couple, so both companies could milk the hype surrounding them some more. Ryuichi was beyond furious, and ready to leave his company if it wasn’t for his sister talking him out of it. Rationally, Ryu knew the arrangement would only last for a couple of months, and that it would be beneficial for him to get his name out there more, but it didn’t make it any less offensive to his sensibilities.

The next morning, or late afternoon rather, Ryuichi woke up with a major hangover, and a slutty groupie on each side of his bed. Right, he wasn’t supposed to do that anymore, but then again, rules were meant to be broken. His maid had woken him up, telling him his appointment was here. Ryu genuinely couldn’t remember anything about an appointment, but glancing at his phone and seeing the notification of twelve missed calls from his manager Aizawa, he figured the older male had come over once again to convince him of how great this ‘Leo Xu Deal’ was and how much money and fame it was going to get him. Whatever. He couldn’t even be assed to get dressed, so he walked into the living room wearing nothing but a tight pair of boxers and an open, silk robe. A yawn escaped from his mouth as he rubbed his eyelids, smudging the eyeliner he had put on there the night before.

“...What the fuck?” He didn’t recognize the wide-eyed, innocent young male, seated on the leather sofia in his living room, at all, but it certainly wasn’t that old, senile manager of his. A puzzled frown etched into his features as he stepped closer toward him. “Who the fuck are you?” Then it suddenly dawned on the rockstar; this had to be that actor kid. “Leo Xu,” Ryuichi answered his own question before the younger male had the chance to. A devious smirk tugged on the corners of his mouth. Oh, he was definitely going to have fun with this one. “Mhm, I see how it is,” he continued with an exasperated sigh, arrogantly running his hand through his dark, tousled locks. “Rumor has it that I’ve been sucking your famous cock on the reg for the past few weeks, so you think you can just drop by my house, unannounced, and waltz in here like you own the place, is that right?”

#✧. ・゜゜・ 𝑅 𝒴 𝒰 𝐼 𝒞 𝐻 𝐼 ・゜゜・． literature. rk. ♡#ncnversations #this is so fucking long omg #i had to. light some candles to set the mood rip #pls dont match

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willows-horde · 5 years

Text

This... is pretty long. I had decided to break the chapters up in days; or at least the first few. So, here’s the first chapter.

word count: 6353

Imprisoned Chapter 1: Day 1

The sound of the door opening accompanied by voices grabbed Masamune's attention. Good, maybe he could manage to grab a bite to eat. He hadn't eaten or drank anything for a couple days now and was starting to feel a little nauseous. “-dead. We do have one prisoner.” That voice... There was no mistaking it. Who was with him he didn't know, but that voice belonged to the man who harbored Masamune's hatred. Ishida Mitsunari. And he was the first one to step into view. Masamune glared at him. In response, Mitsunari sent a sharp look at him.

“Bastard. You got something to say to me?” Masamune demanded. His voice sounding hoarse. Then the two other people who were with him stepped into view. A woman and Yukimura. Once Masamune noticed the woman, his glare vanished and his expression changed completely.

She sighed, relieved. “Masamune.”

Suddenly, his attitude changed to one of frustration. “Why are you here?!” It hurt his throat when his raised his voice at her.

“I came here looking for you, so don't give me an attitude,” she snapped back. Yukimura was startled by the exchange from the two of them. Because, it sounded like she was lecturing him.

She's lecturing me, Masamune realized. And he was irritated by this fact. She shouldn't even be here; he should be the one lecturing her. Then something else dawned on him. Who was with their son?

She looked him over. He was sitting down with his wrists chained to the wall above him. He was pale and looked thinner than she last remembered. Her heart ached seeing him like this. She had to force herself to focus on what she had to do. Turning to Mitsunari, she questioned, “Why is he chained?”

“Apparently you don't understand the concept of prisoner of war,” he stated as he turned his full attention to her.

“I understand it perfectly,” she countered. “What I don't understand is why he is chained when the cell is locked.”

“Your point is noted.” Annoyance could be heard in his tone. “And if he was your prisoner you could deal with it how you want.”

“Alright. Then let's discuss terms for releasing him into my custody.” Yukimura was surprised how this conversation was going. She wasn't backing down despite the fact that his lord, Mitsunari, was getting irritated with her.

“Your custody,” he stated the question instead of asking it. Who in there right mind would think that he would release his biggest threat into the custody of someone they were obviously close to? The very thought was laughable. He crossed his arms. “Hmph. What makes you think I will agree to that?” he questioned as he looked down at her.

“You seem like a fair man. I'm sure we can work something out,” she told him, a hint of a smile barely touching her lips. Masamune could feel himself grow tense as he saw Mitsunari lower his arms back to his sides. He didn't like this. Not one bit.

Mitsunari heard the sound of the chains rattle. So the 'dragon' disapproves. He shifted his gaze to the man in chains. The glare that was directed at him earlier had returned. He turned his focus back to the woman in front of him, who stood with confidence. He grabbed her bicep and pulled her a step closer to him; her partially hidden smile faded, her confidence weakened, as she was forced to step forward. The chains rattled again, causing Yukimura to look over. Masamune had pushed himself up on his knees. “We will see,” Mitsunari told her.

Masamune gripped tightly on the chains that bound him. His teeth clenched tighter as his anxiety rose with the passing silence. Mitsunari released her arm and walked past her to the exit without bothering to look at his captive. She sent a quick glance to Masamune before she followed him. Yukimura looked at Masamune again as they left. Only to see something he never would have expected from him. A look of defeat. Over the years he'd known him he had never seen his rival look so undeniably defeated. He watched as he slumped back down to the floor. Masamune muttered something. Yukimura opened his mouth to say something but stopped when he heard his name being called. “Ah, yes?” Yukimura hurried off, but not before throwing one last glance at Masamune.

“Check on the status of,” Masamune vaguely heard before the door was shut making the voices muffled and impossible to make out.

Why would she... She shouldn't have come here. Even if she was trying to help him. She's smart, she could have thought of something else. He stared down at the floor. “Mego...” No. She shouldn't have come.

“Check on the status of her companion,” Mitsunari told Yukimura once he caught up to them. Yukimura nodded and was about to say something when his lord spoke again. “And have your ninja take her to an unused room.”

“Yes, Mitsunari-dono.”

She turned to Mitsunari. “Weren't we going to...”

“Later,” came the response before he turned and walked down a different hallway.

She bit her cheek. This wasn't quite going as planned. She had hoped to get the discussion done quickly and leave as soon as possible with Masamune. Three days. She had told her companion, who was obliged to stay outside, that if anything went wrong he was to go on with plan B. Plan A, the diplomatic approach, she hoped it would work. “Miss?” She looked up startled.

“I apologize. What did you say?” She had heard Yukimura call for him but hadn't been listening to the rest of their conversation, or realized that he had spoken to her. How embarrassing.

Sasuke offered her a smile and repeated himself. “I asked for the pretty woman's name. Since I would be escorting her to her room.”

She took a small step in the direction she guessed they would be heading. Sasuke, taking the hint, started leading her to her room. “I'm sorry, but I'd prefer it if you wouldn't use flattery.” But then continued by introducing herself, “My name is Mego.”

“Hm. The dragons wife.” Mego looked up at him again as she wondered what to make of him. He was a ninja so of course he would know. That was the reason she hadn't given her name earlier. But since she now found her husband she felt that it wouldn't make any difference if they knew or not. “What do you plan on doing, wife of Dokugan-ryu?”

Mego hesitated. She didn't feel comfortable being addressed like that manner. “I had hoped to have a discussion with Ishida-san and convince him to release my husband.” She folded her hands over her sash in front of her. There was silence for a moment and she glanced over at him. With a sigh she asked, “Must you stare at me like that?”

Sasuke gave a laugh and grinned. But then he became more serious. “You seem nervous.” He noticed a slight falter in her motions.

“I... suppose that is true...” she trailed off at the end. “But I don't think blame should be placed on me for that. After all, it's not very often that I have to save my husband,” she said as she looked up to him with a faint smile. He noticed the sadness in her expression before she quickly looked away. She took a deep breath then released a heavy sigh. She must have been aware of the expression her face had betrayed. As he watched her, Sasuke couldn't help but think back to how upset Yukimura looks after he visits the Dokugan-ryu. She hugged her arms over her stomach. Sasuke decided he wouldn't question her anymore. Though he had a feeling there was more to it than just her being nervous.

The two were quiet for a moment longer before Sasuke spoke up as he motioned towards the room they had reached. “And this would be your room during your stay,” he told her as he slid the door open. Mego stepped inside and glanced around. It was rather plain with only a small table for decoration. He watched her kneel down and run her hand over the table. “Some advice, Mego-sama.” Mego, surprised, turned to look at him. “Don't do anything rash that could jeopardize either your or his well-being.”

“...I just want my husband back,” she told him.

“I understand that. Just be sure to remember the position your in.” Mego wasn't sure why he was telling her this. Let alone why he suddenly addressed her with respect. She nodded. In response, he offered her a smile before he closed the door and left her to her thoughts.

He lay, with his head resting on her lap. His fingers interlaced hers. Lightly and hardly aware he was doing so, he caressed her hand with his thumb. She spoke to him reassuringly. He responded with muttered, dissatisfied answers. She leaned over him, dark hair falling over her shoulder as she did so, and kissed his forehead. “Mitsunari-dono.”

Mitsunari jerked upright, instinctively grabbing his sword. “What?” he questioned irritated as he slowly let go of his blade. Yukimura was a bit confused. Why was Mitsunari upset with him? Unless, it wasn't him he was irritated with... but then who? He slid the door open and glanced around. “Looking for something?”

Yukimura took a step back. “N-no. I didn't mean...”

“It's fine. Get inside and tell me what you found.”

With a nod, Yukimura said, “Yes, of course.” Stepping inside he closed the door behind him. He took another step forward before he sat down with his legs tucked underneath him. “The cloaked man who arrived with her; he's sitting beneath one of the trees lining the forest close by. I questioned the men you told to watch him. Apparently that's all he's been doing.”

“Is that all?” Yukimura nodded. “...Get me sake.”

“Sake?” Yukimura echoed. He couldn't help be surprised that he wanted to drink now.

Mitsunari looked at him annoyed. “You heard me. Don't make me repeat myself.”

“Ah, no of course not, Mitsunari-dono.” He got up. “I'll get you some sake.”

Just as Yukimura slid the door open to leave, Mitsunari spoke up again. “After that you're free to do what you want.” Yukimura glanced back at his lord to see him staring down at the table in front of him with his fist pressed against his temple. As he closed the door behind him, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe he had a headache. But, did sake help with headaches? Yukimura wasn't really sure. Then again, he didn't drink much compared to everyone else he knew so of course he wouldn't know. He shook his head. If sake helped him with headaches then there wouldn't be any point in questioning it.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. Masamune didn't even look up when they stopped outside his cell. It had only been a couple hours since his last 'visitors' had left. A couple hours since he had seen Mego. ... He wanted to be left alone. “I brought you some...” So it was Yukimura. No big surprise there.

“Don't want it,” Masamune told him in english.

Yukimura could hardly understand what he said. “But...” he started to protest.

“Don't. Want. It.”

Yukimura couldn't grasp the reason why Masamune refused the water he brought him. He needed to drink something; he didn't look well. Was he sick? “When... was the last time you ate or drank something?”

Masamune didn't want to talk to him. He really didn't. But despite that he found himself answering. “...Two days, I think.” He didn't actually finish his statement when Yukimura spoke up.

“Two days?! Masamune-dono, if you don't drink something you could die!” he blurted out. Masamune could hear the cell being unlocked. “Take it.” Masamune didn't move from his spot on the floor.

Yukimura grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at him. Though Masamune pulled away and shot a glare at him. “What are y-mph.” His sentence was cut short when the container was forced to his lips. He coughed, sputtered and nearly choked on the water before Yukimura pulled it away. “Are you insane!?” Masamune shouted before he coughed again.

“I am not,” Yukimura said somewhat defensively. Then, with his steadfast determination, he asked, “Will you drink it?”

“No!” Now he blatantly didn't want it. He didn't care how determined Yukimura was, he wasn't going to drink it. With stubbornness on both sides, this predicament couldn't end well.

“You have to drink something!” He moved his hand closer.

“Get away from me or I'll bite off your fingers,” Masamune snapped. His voice was still rough, but he found talking was a little easier since water was forced in his mouth.

Not heeding the warning, Yukimura went to try to grab his chin again, except Masamune was prepared. Once he was close enough Masamune did, indeed, bite his hand. Yukimura cried out startled. He didn't think he'd actually bite! When Masamune did let go there were teeth marks on his hand. Masamune glared up at him, daring him to try again. His hand throbbed and he just realized that he had dropped the container he had held. He must have done so out of surprise. “I don't understand...” Yukimura muttered as he knelt down to pick up the now empty container. Instead of getting up, he stayed knelt down so the two were face-to-face.

“No. You wouldn't.” The two were quiet for a moment before Masamune spoke up again. “If there's nothing else for you to torment me with, leave me alone.” It was obvious Yukimura hesitated. He couldn't decide if he should stay and try to talk to him, or leave him be. This is the most he's said to him for a while. Masamune shut his eye and shifted his seated position so he wasn't sitting on his legs anymore. Yukimura got up and almost forgot to lock the cell when he left.

No, Yukimura would never understand what it felt like to lose everything. Masamune had heard of the death of Takeda Shingen. And yes, he knew how much Yukimura had looked up to the old man. But that was the only thing he had lost. He had inherited everything from his lord. Then afterwards he started working for Ishida. And if he wasn't mistaken Yukimura even got married. If anything he had been gaining not losing. There is no way Yukimura would ever know the feeling of the complete defeat that was cast on him. To be taunted by having what matters most dangled before you, out of arms reach. Then watching her walk away with the man that put him here and putting herself in danger. With having no way of knowing how she is... that is the worst feeling there is.

~ - ~ - ~

“Mego-dono?”

Mego looked to the door. “You may come in.” She turned so she was facing the door as it opened. “Sanada-san, what do I owe this visit?” She had thought that it had been him. Since he had come by earlier with a futon and had offered some small talk. From the way he addressed her, she suspected that Sasuke told him who she was.

Yukimura looked unsure. “Mitsunari-dono has requested that you join him for dinner.” Mego got the impression that Yukimura was phrasing it nicer than her host had. But at the same time she was a little surprised that they would be eating together. Then again, they wouldn't actually be eating together, since she was sure that they wouldn't be alone. Despite all that, dinner would be a good time to discuss releasing Masamune.

“If he requests it then I suppose I shouldn't turn him down,” Mego responded as she stood up. Yukimura closed the door behind her after she exited the room. She followed him as he led the way. They walked in silence for a while before she looked at him. “Are you okay?”

“Ah?” Yukimura looked over at her. “Yes. I'm sorry for causing you concern, Mego-dono.” He offered her a smile, hoping not to worry her any further.

She shook her head and looked ahead of her again. “I felt that I should ask,” Mego stated. He wasn't very good at hiding how he felt. It made him easy to read. “Since you seemed distraught.” And she also remembered Masamune mention him quite some time ago. Mego decided not to ask him anything more. If he felt the need to speak to her, whether it be about what bothered him or something else, than that would be fine.

Yukimura was surprised to earn her concern simply because he looked distraught. He wasn't even aware that he had looked distraught to begin with. Should he tell her what bothered him? It probably wouldn't do any good... but it was about her husband. He just couldn't figure it out. Why would Masamune refuse to drink when he hadn't had anything for two days? Yukimura glanced over at her again. He didn't really want to worry her. He'll try again later. After dinner, he'll bring Masamune something, and if he again doesn't accept it, than he'll inform her about the situation. Yukimura felt a little better when he came to his decision.

Mego glanced over at him as he motioned towards one of the rooms they were about to reach. He looked like he was starting to feel a little better and she couldn't but smile a little. “Mitsunari-dono, I've returned with Mego-dono.”

“It's about time,” came the response from inside the room. Yukimura slid the door open, than stepped aside to let Mego enter. She stepped in, but then hesitated. Mitsunari was sitting, with his arms crossed, in front of the table that held the food. He was the only one there. She heard Yukimura say he was taking his leave before the door was slid shut. Mitsunari sent an annoyed look at her. “Sit down.”

When Mego sat down at the spot set out for her, which was across from him, Mitsunari finally uncrossed his arms and picked up his chopsticks. Mego followed suit and picked up hers as well and started to eat. She felt a little uneasy when she spotted the sake. She was startled when Mitsunari suddenly grabbed the bottle. “You wanted some didn't you?” he questioned her motioning to her cup.

She could smell the alcohol on his breath. So he'd been drinking already. But how much she didn't know... “Oh, um yes. Thank you...” she trailed off when she saw him refill his own cup and roughly set the container back down.

“If you don't want it, don't say you do.” He sounded irritated, though watched her with vague amusement when she grabbed the container and poured herself some.

“I said yes. That means I want some,” she stated as she set it back down on the table. Then, to prove her point, she took a small sip. She didn't really want any, and hoped one cup wouldn't hurt. Thankfully, tea was also available.

The two were quiet for a few minutes before Mego noticed Mitsunari refill his cup of sake. She was about to say something about this, but stopped when she remembered where she was. Mitsunari, however, noticed this. “What?”

She quickly thought of something else to say. “About releasing Masamune...”

“I have no intention of releasing him,” he stated before he took a drink from his cup.

Mego was dumbfounded. He was just going to tell her 'no' and keep eating? They were supposed to discuss this properly. “Don't I get the chance to convince you otherwise?”

He glanced up at her. “You think you can change my mind?”

“I think I should be allowed to try,” she stated without much thought.

Instead of a quick response, he just watched her for a moment before he slowly turned his attention back down to his plate. He had blinked a couple times as he shifted his gaze, like he was trying to put something in focus.

Mego remained quiet. Completely confused. She picked up her cup and took a small drink. What was with that response? Or more accurately, lack of one. She had seen people act strangely after drinking sake and couldn't help wondering if that was what this was. No, she shouldn't be concerned over his well-being, she had to focus. What could she say that could convince him. She really didn't have any idea how to approach this. Perhaps being honest is the best option. But how badly did she want to go down that route? That would mean discussing her personal life and family with this strange man she knew little to nothing about. Though on the other hand she thought even less of the idea of making up some type of story or excuse... That didn't leave her with many options.

After swallowing the food she had in her mouth she spoke up, “He, has a family back in Oshu.” Mitsunari looked up at her. “And, we need him home.”

“We.” It was said as a statement instead of the question it was probably meant as.

“Yes. I am his wife; and I need him home just as badly as our child.”

Mitsunari fell quiet again, but then, suddenly, grabbed his cup and finished the contents. “This conversation is over,” he stated as he set the cup down.

This is hardly discussing it properly. Mego questioned herself if something was truly wrong with him. Whether it be the sake or... or it could be something else. She realized something; he decided to end the conversation when she started talking about having family. She wondered why that was. Unless... maybe he... She decided to give voice to her question. “Is it that you don't have a family?”

Just as she started to say family, Mitsunari slammed his hand, and chopsticks, onto the table. Mego jumped when his hand hit the table. As he did this he pushed himself up on his knees and glared at her. “Do not assume that! I do have a.” he stopped mid-sentence. Mitsunari sat back down. “The conversation is over,” he stated harshly. Mego was so startled by his sudden outburst, that she found herself at a lose of words. She just watched mutely as he grabbed the sake bottle with a grip so tight she thought would shatter it. But then stopped, released the bottle from his death grip, and told her, “When you're finished, leave.”

“...Leave or return to my room?” she asked quietly.

“I don't care.” Mego glanced down at her plate. She was almost done eating. Quickly she finished to avoid lingering in an uncomfortable silence and then stood up. He didn't say a word to her as she headed to the door. Mego slid the door open and, after sending a glance back at him, left the room closing the door behind her.

“Masamune.. I brought you something to eat and drink,” Yukimura said as he stepped up to the other mans cell. Except there was no response. Masamune was sitting with his back against the wall and his head was down to this chest. “...Masa..mune?” Still no response. Yukimura unlocked the cell and stepped inside. He set the cup of water down and rested the apple on top and knelt in front of him. Yukimura thought he had seen a slight twitch from his hand when the cell was unlocked, but that was it. He placed his hand under Masamune's chin and lifted his head. There was still no response. “Ma...Masamune...dono?” Yukimura panicked when he didn't answer. Quickly, he grabbed the container of water, causing the apple to fall to the floor, and put it to Masamune's lips. He hoped that he would, by instinct, swallow the water. Carefully he poured some of the water in his mouth and tipped his head back slightly. When there wasn't a reaction right away Yukimura lowered his head; only to have some of the water fall from his mouth. Yukimura freaked out. He refused to accept that Masamune would die chained up in a cell. Quickly, he poured some more water in his mouth and tipped his head backwards again, his heart pounding the whole time. Suddenly, Masamune choked on the water. He choked... he choked! Thank the gods he choked! Yukimura lowered his head again and just as he did so Masamune swallowed the water. With a sigh of relieve, he carefully poured some more water in his mouth and managed to get him to swallow that as well. He repeated this a few times before he felt Masamune weakly pull away. Yukimura let him go. Though his head drooped down again, it didn't reach his chest this time.

Masamune cracked his eye open. That's weird, it felt like he just drank something, but, he knew that he didn't. Slowly, he lifting his head, and noticed something he wished he hadn't. Yukimura was sitting in front of him. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Masamune-dono... are you...” he hastily started to ask before he was interrupted.

“Fine,” Masamune stated as he let his eye fall closed again. Really he wasn't. He was actually pretty exhausted, and felt light-headed when he looked up. There was no way he was going to admit that to him though. He was about to speak up again but Yukimura beat him to it.

Holding out the container of water, Yukimura told him, “Finish drinking this.”

Finish? Masamune cracked open his eye and spotted the container. When had he... wait. He made him drink it. That's why it felt like he drank something, because he really did. “Making habit of that,” he mumbled but didn't move to get up.

Yukimura wasn't quite sure what to say at first. He thought about what happened earlier that day. “Your wife is here.” Masamune's expression shifter rather quickly. First it held a hint of sadness but then changed to one of anger, which was obviously directed at him. “She is trying to have you released.” Masamune opened his mouth to speak but Yukimura quickly spoke up again. “Wouldn't she be upset if she saw you like this?” His mouth fell closed again. He didn't want to admit that Yukimura was right. Mego would be upset with him. He never wanted her to see him like this... and now; now he's purposely making himself worse. What good was that going to do? He glanced at the container Yukimura still held. Maybe he should just take it... Masamune gripped the chains and tried to pull himself up. Except when he managed to get himself on his feet, they couldn't really hold him up. That and the dizziness hit him all over again. He flinched as the chains gave a tug on this wrists as he slumped back down on the floor. “Masamune-dono are you alright?”

He was silent for a moment as he realized that he wasn't going to be able to get up. He didn't want to say it. He really did not want to say it. “I need help...” he confessed. Never did he want to ask Sanada Yukimura for help. Yukimura was dumbfounded. He never thought Masamune would ever say that to him. “Sanada.” Yukimura was pulled out of his confusion. He brought the container to Masamune's lips and tipped it forward so he could drink what was left.

Setting the container aside, Yukimura noticed the apple that now lay on the floor. “Oh,” he picked it up. “Here, something to eat.” He held it out to him, but Masamune pulled back.

“No.” It was bad enough that he needed help to drink the water, there was no way he was going to embarrass himself further by being fed.

Yukimura, not aware of his dilemma, attempted to clean off the apple by wiping it on his shirt before he tried to give it to him again. Masamune still backed off. “You have to eat too.”

“Later,” Masamune stated. He wasn't willing to admit, in any form, that he was embarrassed. “I'm not hungry.” He knew he had to eat but, at the same time he really didn't feel hungry. So it wasn't like he was lying...

“You have to eat something,” Yukimura insisted.

“...I'll eat if you show up tomorrow...” Masamune muttered. Yukimura smiled. “You have nothing to be smug about.”

“You said if I come tomorrow you would eat.”

Masamune opened his mouth to object, but then realized that he was, again, right. “Don't twist my words! I meant I would eat tomorrow.” But then added, “Whether or not its you.”

With a scoff, Masamune shut his eye. “Masamu...”

“I'm going to sleep,” he told him with annoyance in this tone. Yukimura didn't question him. He was still worried but at least he seemed to be doing better. Yukimura got up and left, locking the cell on his way out.

Masamune opened his eye again once he knew he was gone. That was one of the most embarrassing things that he'd ever said. And before that, needing help to drink... that's twice within a few minutes time he'd managed to embarrass himself. He thought about his wife again. With no idea what was happening to her, he couldn't help but to worry. Even if she wouldn't purposely do anything to get herself into trouble, she was always in danger here. And... and it hurt his head to think about it. Though that was probably also from lack of water intake. Masamune let out a sigh and shut his eye. It didn't take him long to doze off.

~ - ~ - ~

It was late and he found himself walking the halls. His thoughts a tangled mess. Mitsunari had left his dining quarters quite some time after Mego had. Nothing in his mind seemed coherent. Bits of old conversations, some of recent ones. Images of people he knew, lost and currently know. Everything was a mess. He could hardly differentiate what was what or who... Then he arrived at his bed chamber.

After he slid the door open and stepped inside did he notice the person hidden under his bed covers.

It took him a minute before his mind registered who it was. He closed his door more carefully than he'd opened it. Getting himself changed for bed; he would glance over to make sure he hadn't woken her up. Only when he was changed and had laid down, did he feel movement from the one hidden under the covers that he lay on top of.

She peeked her head out of the covers and looked over at him, though he didn't respond. Reaching out she grabbed his arm and tugged at him. He glanced over before he pulled his arm back. Getting up, he pulled the covers aside and laid down underneath them. She curled up to him and as an instinctive response, he draped his arm over her protectively. They stayed like that for a couple minutes before Mitsunari asked, “Problem sleeping?” He felt her nod her head and tentatively grip onto the light kimono he wore. There was a brief silence before he finally asked, “Nightmare?” The girl nodded again. It didn't take much longer before he felt her breath steady, signaling she had fallen asleep.

He couldn't clear his head. He couldn't sleep. What was he supposed to do? The only thing he truly knew, was that right now, the girl curled next to him felt safe. Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his head, to block out that tangled mess, and sleep.

“Danna, I'm here to report on the status of Mego-sama's companion.”

“Oh, Sasuke. Come in,” Yukimura told him. He had just arrived in his room about ten minutes ago. Sasuke opened the door and stepped inside.

“The guards assigned to watch him have told me that he's entered the forest. What do you recommend we do?” Sasuke informed him. “I could go after him, if that's what you want.”

Yukimura hesitated. “Go ahead and scout the forest. If you find him or anything else unusual be sure to report as soon as you can.”

Sasuke nodded. “I'm on it.” Yukimura watched as Sasuke left. No one here knew who the cloaked man was, or why he didn't mind staying outdoors. There was always the chance that the man was planning something. Yukimura heard some people discussing that possibility. Though if that was the case, would it be right to assume that Mego knew of it? Even if he was planning something, that is why they were keeping a close eye on him.

He sat beneath one of the trees in the forest. A sword rested on the ground at his side. He'd been sitting there for a little over an hour now, listening, just in case the guards sent someone to investigate. If it were him, he would definitely have sent someone. All he had heard was the normal sounds of the night. With a sigh he pushed back the hood of his cloak and proceeded to gather the sticks and small pieces of fallen branches in the area. He really should make a fire, being as cold as it was. Whoever those guards had reported to was too trusting. He was sure it wasn't Ishida. If it was, he had completely misjudged him. He crouched down as he dropped the wood to the ground. Though it was something he was good at... trusting the misjudged; and it always seemed to cause himself and the people he cared about, quite a bit of trouble.

Just as he was getting the fire started, he thought he heard the branches rustle. He was about to dismiss it as the wind when he realized that it seemed quieter. There was someone there. He was sure of it. A ninja, and in the trees no doubt. Standing up, he took a few steps backward towards where he left his sword. The weak fire emitted a faint light. Glancing around, he couldn't see anyone. “I know you're there. Show yourself ninja,” he stated. He was ready to grab his sword if needed. Quickly, he looked over when he saw someone drop down from one of the trees. He looked... familiar.

Sasuke stood up and looked at the man who stood a short distance in front of him. He had the hood back revealing his face. It took a moment, but a look of recognition and surprise appeared on Sasuke's face. “It's you!”

“Don't worry.” Startled, Yukimura looked over. He'd been so deep in thought that he wasn't aware that she had been talking to him. “You seem concerned about something. If it's Sasuke, I'm sure he will return soon.”

He smiled. “I guess I shouldn't worry.” She laid her hand over his and rested her head on his shoulder.

At that moment, from outside the room, they heard, “Sasuke reporting in.”

“Oh, you can come in.”

Sasuke slid the door open and stepped inside. “Good evening, Aki-sama,” he said greeting the woman who was with Yukimura.

Aki smiled at him as he closed the door. Then, as she nudged Yukimura, she said, “He was worried about you.”

“I... I wasn't!” Yukimura stammered, embarrassed that she would mention that.

“Danna, have some faith in me,” Sasuke told him sounding a little hurt.

“But... I just...” he said stumbling over his words, before he heard Aki giggle. He looked from Aki to Sasuke, who was grinning, and became embarrassed. His wife and Sasuke were always doing this to him. He was happy that they got along so well... but why did it always have to be at his expense? Still embarrassed, Yukimura questioned Sasuke on what he found.

“Mm. Nothing,” he told him with a shrug. “He just made a campfire deeper in the woods.”

“Oh... I see.” Yukimura was quiet for a moment before he said, “I'm still worried though. If he would have removed his cloak, he would have been allowed to enter... What reason would he have for choosing to stay outdoors?” Then a thought came to him. He looked up at Sasuke. “Was he still wearing his cloak?”

“Yeah, he was.”

Aki tapped her husband on the shoulder to get his attention. When he turned to her, she told him, “Maybe you should put your worrying aside for tonight. That way we can get some rest. It is late.”

“I could try.”

Aki smiled and glanced over at Sasuke. “Well, that's my cue to leave.” Yukimura looked over at him again as Sasuke slid the door open. “Don't keep each other awake too long,” he told them as he made his escape.

A blush crept up on Yukimura's cheeks as he realized what Sasuke had insinuated. “That wasn't our intent at all!” he cried out after him. Just as he finished his sentence, he was startled by his wife when she suddenly tackled him down onto the futon; followed by her laughter.

#Sengoku Basara #Masamune Date #Yukimura Sanada #Mitsunari Ishida #Mego Date #Sasuke Sarutobi #Willow's writing #incomplete

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