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lily-drake · 3 years

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Thank you @johannaiii for letting me write this!!!! It was so much fun and it was a really good prompt!

Talia didn’t like the process of giving birth, in fact she loathed it. She swore she would never, and she meant never do it again. But when she was giving birth, and she found out that she was having twins, and she got to hold her children that she sacrificed and suffered for, she loved them. When she learned that one of them was a girl, she knew that her father would be furious and demand her death. So she immediately summoned one of the monks from the Tibetan temple that her father was allying with and gave them the girl. She demanded that they train her and protect, and that she would never, ever be mentioned to Ra’s. She even killed the nurses who helped her give birth to make sure that there was no one left who would know. It wouldn’t be hard to find replacements for them anyways, it’s not like their lives were significant. They had served out their use, now there was no need for them. When it was time she presented her son, Damian, to her father claiming him to be the only child and heir to the Demon’s Head. Ra’s was very pleased with her and she felt pride at being able to carry out her task properly that her father was very much pleased with her and her child.

Even though Marinette, as she had named the child before she had given her up, was no longer in the league, she made sure she was still in her daughter’s life. Once every year she left for “training” purposes with Damian and went to the ancient temple in Tibet to visit her daughter and make sure that the two siblings got to spend time with each other. Marinette was growing up so fast and the monks would report to her of her daughter’s progress. They told her that Marinette was destined for greatness and to be a powerful leader, and that pleased Talia greatly. The man in charge of her daughter's training, Master Wang Fu, would show her photos of her daughter and her accomplishments; she wished that she would be allowed to do the same for Damian. But the League and the Temple of Order, while partners, were two separate entities when it came to how they were trained and taught. She smiled as she saw her children sparing on the temple’s grounds, each assessing how strong the other had become since their last meeting a year ago.

They were both 6-years-old now, and Marinette had lost one of her top baby teeth. She wore the traditional light blue training robes the monks wore while Damian wore his traditional black and red armor with his katana sheathed on his back. She watched her children and a small smile graced her lips as she watched the two. They were opposites in almost everything, yet they were still so similar. Damian’s fighting was aggressive and forceful while Marinette’s focussed on out maneuvering and tiring out the opponent from a distance before striking where it hurt the most. Their personalities were like fire and ice with Damian being aggressive and mighty while Marinette was soft and humble. Damian was assertive and forceful in the way he spoke, while Marinette was gentle and descriptive. Though, like she said before they had many similarities that helped to cement their relationship. They both were very artistic, in battle they both would get up and personal with their challenger if given the opportunity, both were very intelligent and soaked everything up like a sponge, and both were highly competitive. The sound of metal being hit together sounded from the training grounds as Damian and Marinette fought with their respective weapons; Damian with his katana and Marinette with her two daggers.

“You’ve definitely improved since the last visit, 'ukht, but so have I.”

Damian announced as he went in to sweep his sister’s legs all while bringing his blade down towards her. Marinette used her daggers to lift Damian’s blade and flipped backwards as Damian tried to perform his strike. She was very flexible and graceful when she was in the air. It sometimes looked as if she were flying when she performed some of her stunts.

“Maybe you have, Xiōngdì, but I seem to still have the upper hand.”

Marinette replied with smugness dripping from her voice as her brother glared at her. Marinette carefully crafted her words to manipulate while Damian spoke his mind and used his to order and command. They were opposites, but they completed each other in a way few will ever know.

The day Damian and Talia were to begin their trek back down the mountain Fu ran up to Damian and placed a piece of paper in his hands. He bowed respectfully to the old man and looked at the picture. It was a picture the old man had taken a few days ago. Marinette was smiling brightly and had her arm around his shoulder while he had his arms crossed in front of him and leaned into his sister’s touch with a small smirk. They were both in their training clothes and stood in front of the mountains that hid and protected the Temple of Order. He smiled at it and glanced at his sister who was waving goodbye with a big sad smile. He simply nodded and left not knowing that this would be the last time he would for many years that he would lay eyes on her once again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Order, it was gone, destroyed! Marinette felt tears rush down her face as she watched her friends and mentors perish in the flames of miraculous magic gone astray. She could feel the cold wind passing by her as Master Fu dragged her away, but she couldn’t remove her gaze from her home that was falling into pieces. What would Damian think, she had to leave something for him to let him know she was okay! But she was never given the chance because she couldn’t pull away from her master. They were the last ones left, and Marinette couldn’t wrap her mind around it at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Damian and Talia hiked the trial many months later, and as they neared the top they could sense something was definitely off. The top of the temple would usually be in view by now. When they finally reached the top they froze as they saw the ruins of the burned and destroyed temple in front of them. Talia was the first to break from her daze and ran to the ruins searching through them to find any remains of her daughter. Damian soon joined his mother, but it was no use. Damian and Talia believed the worst had happened to her, and with silent tears flowing down his face he stabbed his sword into the ground in front of the burnt remains and fell onto his knees in front of it. The sword would serve as a gravestone for the fallen warriors here, but it specifically would serve as Marinette’s grave marker. She was a brave warrior, one of the best, and she was gone now. Talia stood by her son’s side and soon kneeled in front of it as well with her hand placed on her son’s shoulder. As they traveled down the mountain Damian swore that he would never be vulnerable again, he would never care about anyone ever again, because the pain he felt was too intense and never wanted to feel it ever again.

So both He and Talia took on more missions, Talia was rarely at the base, always gone doing whatever her father needed. The training in Tibet never happened again, and Damian grew closer to his grandfather. He trained harder, attacked ruthlessly, and channeled all his pain and rage into his strikes. He held onto the photo that Fu had given him of the two of them so many years ago. He had it tucked away in a secret place in his room where no one would ever find it, because he wanted to keep her with him in some way. Never again, he wouldn’t be hurt like before ever again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette lived with Master Fu in a tea parlor under the guise of Marin Fu. She helped him run his parlor and distribute his charms to the people through the teas she brewed while he placed charms on people through the massage therapy he did. Fu let her be home schooled as she already knew way more than any normal school could teach her. She would just be repeating things when she could be learning more new material. She was also taught how to better practice her magic and use the miraculous. She was going to be the new guardian one day, she was going to be the last guardian one day, and that thought scared her and brought back all of the nightmares. She locked that night and anything before the fire back up in her mind only remembering what she needed to when she needed to.

Fu wanted her to interact with people though, so with the money he made he sent her to a gymnastics class where she could still retain her skills and get better at them. She honestly loved the classes and she felt so free when she did them. Nobody could beat her, in fact she advanced to level 10 quickly and was well on her way to the elite by the time she was 13. And that’s when Hawkmoth struck Paris.

Lady Rouge and her partner Chat Noir made a decent team, but he was nowhere near her skill level which often annoyed her. He wasn’t a true black cat, her brother was. He was her balanced counterpart, and this cat was just a stand in. And as time went on the imbalance continued the boy became corrupted by the destructive energy of the ring. She had continually told Master Fu about it, but he would not listen. And then it was time for him to pass, and she became the grand guardian, the last grand guardian. Tears fell down the young 15-year-olds face as she watched her mentor's spirit leave him in his peaceful slumber. He was so old, and it was just his time for him to go, but now she had nowhere to go, but she knew what she had to do.

“Hello, M’lady.”

Chat Noir said in a flirty tone as he spun his staff as if the speed he was doing it at would impress her.

“Hello, Chat.”

She replied terse with her arms crossed in front of her as she leaned on the railing of the Eiffel Tower and gazed at the sky that held little stars due to all of the lights of the city below them.

“Are you not excited to see your soulmate? Come on M’lady,”

He said grabbing one of her hands with a large smile and deep voice,

“let me take you out somewhere, just the two of us.”

It took everything in Marinette not to break his wrist in that moment, but she had to play along.

“Okay.”

Chat’s eyes widened and his leather tail began to move side to side in an excited manner.

“W-wait, really?!”

“You know what, ya. This week has been really tough and I could use it.”

Chat’s smile turned into a smirk and a dark twinkle lit up his eyes. He took a step back and held his hand, his ringed hand, out for her to take. SHe smiled at him gently and innocently and took his hand, and as he was about to pull her forward she took hold of the rings and ripped her hand off, taking the ring with her. There was a blonde boy with green eyes staring at her with shock and hurt written all over his face, then eventually anger.

“I am revoking you from being able to wield the Black Cat Miraculous. You are not compatible to wield this power as you are not my balanced counterpart. The ring has been corrupting and harming you after all of your exposure to it when you are not the right one to wear it while I hold the earrings. Thank you for the help you have given me in the past, but I’m afraid that I can not risk hurting you any longer.”

The boy stared at her with wide shocked eyes and nodded. She could see that he too had now noticed the change as with the ring it didn’t feel like he changed at all. She helped him get to his house and left after shaking his hand and thanking him one last time for his help. And as she was about to leave the property she heard the sound of something above her opening and through the now open window she saw an akuma flying out of it.

She quickly caught the akuma and crashed through the glass window into the dark room. Before Hawkmoth could even realize what had happened she had tied him up in her yo-yo and he was pinned in place with the tight cord. If she pulled it any tighter it would cut into his skin and draw blood. She grabbed the broach from the middle of the suit --which was as hideous as his akuma designs, if not worse-- and watched the man detransform making sure the camera on her yo-yo recorded the whole thing.

“You will be subject to the curse of whatever your abused kwami sees fit for you, and then the people of Paris will have you.”

Was all she said as she brought the man onto his knees so he could properly respect the kwami and the God’s they are. Nooroo appeared and stared down at the man in front of him with an angered fiery glare.

“Gabriel Agreste, you have abused me and my miraculous for too long! I bring upon a curse upon you, that no one will ever believe a word you say, and that your craft of manipulation will only work against you!”

And with that, pain courses through Gabriel and the wings of a butterfly were branded on the left side of his chest just above his heart. She left soon after that and sent the footage for the police. She watched from a distance as the police took him in, and told one of the officers that Adrien was innocent and had no connection to his father’s scheme. Once she was sure Gabriel would not be able to escape his justice she pulled the horse miraculous from her yo-yo and summoned a portal to wherever she needed to be next.

~~~~~~~~~~

Damian was in the cave training when Todd burst in and began to run towards him with a stupid smug grin on his face. Damian rolled his eyes and watched Todd stop in front of him holding something small and flimsy in his hand.

“Demon Spawn,”

He breathed out, his smug smile growing wider,

“Did you have a girlfriend in the league?”

Damian was….confused. He had no such thing, but as Todd showed him the thing in his hand his blood froze. It was the photo of him and Marinette. How did he find it?! Why did he even have it?!

“Give it back, Todd.”

Damian growled lowly hands gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.

“She is! Guys, Damian had a-“

He tackled Jason after that and wrestled the photo out of his grip and held it close to him. He glared daggers at Todd and made absolutely sure that the old photo was still intact. Once he was sure. Todd was back on his feet and Damian had the urge to run him through with his sword for daring to rummage through his belongings and to dare touch his picture. He opened his mouth to spit out fiery words of anger, when a portal opened right in front of Damian. A girl walked out of it and the portal immediately closed. It was absolutely silent in the cave as the other occupants who were also there stared at the person. The girl was rigid as she stared Damian directly in the eyes, and he felt a familiar pull to her.

“Kaalki, Tikki separate. Tikki spots off.”

She spoke quickly, and her voice, and those words, and he knew who she was. But that was impossible, because she had died, hadn’t she?! Arms wrapped around him and he could hear sniffles and he felt his arms wrap robotically around the small frame of his sister.

“Xiōngdì, I missed you so much! I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner! Th-the Order was destroyed and Fu woul-wouldn’t let me leave a message, and-and someone was misusing the Butterfly in France (sniff). And-and…..”

She took a long shaky breath in and sighed,

“I missed you so much.”

It took a while to realize that silent tears were falling down his face, and he hugged her even tighter against his chest. Because his sister, his twin sister was alive, and she hadn’t died in the fire and destruction of the temple.

“It’s okay, 'ukht. I’ve got you.”

They stayed like that for a few precious moments before Todd yelled,

“What the f*!”

———————

Permanent Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar

#maribat #sibling au #sibling daminette #marinette al ghul wayne #marinette fu #damian al ghul wayne #monk marinette #talia sugar #bio!dad bruce wayne #twins au #The Order #mlb x batman #dc x mlb #angst #fluff

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coffeestainsandcashmere · 4 years

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‘All that’s best of dark and bright’ - a Draco x Hermione x Theo story - Chapter Four

For the 0.5 people following this story on here instead of Ao3...

Chapter One here: Tumblr | Ao3

Chapter Two here: Tumblr | Ao3

Chapter Three here: Tumblr | Ao3

Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table that evening, still mulling over Malfoy’s behaviour in Charms.

It had been her mention of the snatchers that had prompted his expression to darken and his body to fill with tension, and she still couldn’t shake the way that he’d turned quiet and openly vulnerable under Theo’s gentle touch. Over the years she’d known him at Hogwarts, Malfoy had always seemed to viscerally sharp and prickly, so volatile and yet so cold, that realising he was apparently an extremely tactile person somehow felt like she’d taken a bludger to the head. Yet again she saw a boy who’d been isolated by circumstance, and not by choice, and she resolved to put a little more effort into bridging the gaping canyon that still existed between them.

At supper that evening, Ginny rather predictably talked the ears off everyone at their end of the table about the Holyhead Harpies and their latest nail-biter of a match against the Wimbourne Wasps. Apparently she and the rest of the Gryffindor team had been glued to the wireless all afternoon during their various free periods.

“…and then when Helena Abbington swept in at the last minute and stopped a bludger from hitting Wilkins, she and Elcomb only pulled off a bloody Porskoff Ploy so well that the Wasps didn’t even see the quaffle drop until it was too late!” Ginny enthused around a final mouthful of goulash. “Seriously, we were all —” she caught sight of Hermione’s politely bored face midway through taking a swig of pumpkin juice to wash down the clog of goulash, and snorted so hard that juice actually came out of her nose. “I’m sorry, ‘Mione,” she laughed, and Hermione’s chest panged at the unexpected use of Ron’s nickname for her. “I’m so sorry. Oh crap, did I get you with juice?” She dug out her wand. “Oh Godric, I’m sorry - scourgify - but you should have seen your face!”

“The complexities of quidditch manoeuvres have never failed to entertain me, Ginny,” she said flatly. “I’m sorry.” Dinners in the Weasley household had been interminable on nights when someone got going on the subject.

“No, it’s totally fine. Just remind me to cancel your subscription to Seeker Weekly that I set up for your birthday.” At the words ‘your birthday’, her eyes went wide and she shrieked, “Oh my Gryffindor! Your birthday! It’s… It’s…”

“This Saturday,” she smiled sadly. Neither Ron nor Harry had mentioned coming down to see her, or meeting up in Hogsmeade, and she rather suspected that they might have forgotten. That stung more than she cared to admit.

From behind her, a male voice drawled, “It’s your birthday, Granger?”

Ginny’s expression soured immediately and her gaze shifted to a spot behind Hermione as she snarled, “Piss off, Nott. And whatever you’re thinking of doing to spoil it… don’t.”

“Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed. “You’re Head Girl! You should be a little more impartial, don’t you think?”

“Not when it comes to my best friends,” she pouted. Her mistrust of anyone even tangentially associated with Voldemort’s supporters was widely known, and Theodore took a polite half-step back, palms up, dark blue eyes widely innocent. Ginny continued to glare at him, but she did at least let him speak.

“I’m not putting in a last-minute, bulk order to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes,” he smiled carefully. “I promise. I was just surprised you hadn't mentioned it on our patrols, that’s all. Listen, while we’re on the subject, Granger, I came over to tell you I’m going to be a bit late tonight. Can I meet you at nine up on the third floor?”

Despite his usually abysmal time-keeping, Nott had surprisingly never been late to a patrol before, so she simply nodded. It wasn’t as if anything the students could throw at her would be more dangerous or daunting than everything she’d faced in the past three years. “Sure. Meet you by the painting of the drunk monks?”

Nott’s handsome, slightly wonky smile split wide and white across his face, drawing dimples in his cheeks that made her stomach flutter, and he inclined his head. “Perfect. Thanks, Granger.”

“You can call me Hermione, you know?” she said in a bit of a rush as he turned to leave, fighting another blush.

He paused and then turned to look over his shoulder at her. “Then I insist that you stop calling me ‘Nott’,” he said with a very slight bow of his head. One of the tighter curls at the front of his chestnut brown hair flopped further forewords onto his forehead. “Call me Theo. Never Theodore.” And he shuddered visibly, his freckles standing out a little more as his cheeks paled for just a moment.

“Right,” she said and then, because she fancied trying it out, she added, “Theo.”

With one further and final brightening of that already blinding smile, presumably at the sound of his name on her lips, he strode away without explanation as to why he was going to be late, and Hermione turned back to see Ginny with her jaw practically dangling on the table. Even Neville looked a little stunned, as if he still didn’t believe his eyes, even after their conversation earlier that very day.

“What?” she asked, the blush finally spilling across her cheeks, hot and tingling.

“Since when are you so… ‘chummy’ with the Slytherins?” she asked acerbically.

She blinked. “I didn’t realise it was a crime to be on good terms with one’s peers,” she sniffed defensively as everyone’s eyes seemed to bore into her. God, it reminded her of the courtroom and Malfoy’s trial. “Besides, he’s actually halfway decent, believe it or not.”

Ginny looked like she’d swallowed a bubotuber whole. “Right,” she said. “Look… Hermione, I really don’t mean to be an arse about this, but… you do remember that he’s friends with Draco Malfoy, don’t you? You know, the boy who tried to kill Dumbledore and who let a bloody horde of Death Eaters into the castle who… you know, who ultimately helped to murder my brother…” Tears sparkled in her eyes as she glared at her.

Her heart went out to the younger girl, but she wasn’t about to back down either. “I’m aware of Malfoy’s history, Ginny, and of who we all lost,” she said, trying to keep her voice from rising and quavering. “I’m not… I’m not saying they’re perfect by any means, but… I’d like to give them a chance. Both of them. Theo was cleared of any involvement, and Malfoy was tried and released on probation, remember?”

Ginny’s eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. “Tell that to Fred!” she hissed, standing from the table and storming away.

Hermione took a deep breath and glanced around at the audience their little tussle had gathered amongst the Gryffindors. “What?” she snapped, pushing herself to her feet and disentangling her legs from the bench. “You heard McGonagall at the start of term. And we can’t keep treating everyone like criminals.” Her heart was racing, blood pounding in her ears. Why didn’t they understand? Why did they all think it was still ‘us’ and ‘them’? “We just can’t live like that!” she said shrilly, and she stalked from the hall in Ginny’s wake, tears blurring her vision.

She’d always hated the fact that she wore her heart on her sleeve like this, emotions always boiling right up to the surface at a moment’s notice when she wished she could remain calm and collected instead of going off like a powder keg. It was something she’d always admired about the people who tended to be sorted into Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Then again, she’d almost been sorted into Ravenclaw, so perhaps it had nothing to do with houses at all and everything to do with her own inability to control her emotions. She’d have made a terrible occlumens.

As the arched entrance to the great hall approached, still in a bit of a blur, she crashed headlong into someone who also happened to be leaving the hall at the same time. A flash of white hair registered in her peripheral vision as Malfoy of all people steadied her with one pale and surprisingly strong hand. He then released her and stepped back.

“Granger?” he asked in a low, softly-articulated purr, taking in the sheen to her eyes and the colour in her cheeks. He shot a glance back over his shoulder at the table where several astounded Gryffindors were still staring after her, and then turned his fierce, silver gaze back to her.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy,” she hissed, desperate not to prolong the fuss. “I’m fine. Thank you.” And with that, she fled to Gryffindor tower to curl up with a book by the common room fire until it was time for her patrol. She didn’t see Ginny again, and later that evening when she nipped up to their dorm to grab her thicker cloak to ward off the castle’s wandering drafts, the drapes of Ginny’s four-poster were pointedly shut.

The first half of her solo rounds passed without much incident and she found the solitude strangely grounding as she paced the empty halls. Ginny’s grief at the loss of her older brother was still so raw and close to the surface, and Hermione could certainly see how a friendship - however tentative - with a Slytherin like Theodore Nott would have been anathema to her. Ginny may have been fair and a good choice for a head of school, but when it came to blood ties, the Weasleys were a fiercely loyal family. Hermione had not been present when Molly Weasley had killed Bellatrix, but to hear any of them tell it, Molly had turned into something akin to an avenging banshee to defend her daughter from the deranged Death Eater.

Near the library she found two first years sneaking about on a dare and deducted a cautionary five points from Hufflepuff to warn them off trying anything again, and moved on towards the third floor. She met Nearly Headless Nick and paused to chat with him at length on one of the few static staircases before spotting Mrs. Norris’ tail disappearing around a corner. The satisfaction she felt at not having to be afraid of that sight boosted her mood somewhat. She moved on through the castle like a stray draft, belonging and yet still disconnected; she knew the place inside out, and yet it still felt strange to her to be back here again after everything, with barely a blast or scorch mark on the stones to speak of what had happened scarcely four months earlier.

Just as she reached the third floor and rounded a corner, she paused. A feminine giggle echoed down the hall, followed by a quickly hushed groan.

Perfect.

Of all the things she found herself dealing with as a prefect - sleepwalking, sneaking about, dares into the Restricted Section - illicit encounters by moonlight were probably her least favourite. Everyone needed some kind of connection, some kind of… release… but rules were rules after all, and although Hogwarts was probably the safest place in the world once more, it still didn’t do to be wandering the halls at night.

Inhaling deeply, she stepped out with the intention of interrupting them and sending them packing with twenty points from each house, when a warm, dry palm slid over her mouth from behind her. Before she could squeal or hex her assailant into the middle of last week, Theodore Nott shifted silently into her field of vision, with the finger of his other hand pressed against his smirking lips.

“Theo,” she hissed like a disgruntled Crookshanks when he released her, and he grinned wider, dimples and all. “Merlin and Morgana! You scared me!”

With a very quiet, earthy chuckle that sent heat rushing right the way through her, he twitched his eyebrows down the corridor. “Who is it then?”

“As if I should know from one breathy little giggle!” she scoffed, still somehow keeping her voice down despite her indigence.

He actually had extremely nice hands, she thought, trying not to look at them, and that then realisation made her cheeks flush and her heart flutter. While Malfoy had the hands of a potion master, steady and long-fingered, Theo had the hands of a scholar, all ink stained and slightly knuckly. She scolded herself for fixating on her classmates’ hands - now of all times - and rounded on him defensively.

“Come on,” she said. “Now that you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful. And what were you doing — if I might ask — that was so much more important than your duties as a prefect?”

“Tutoring third years,” he said casually as he turned to face the length of the corridor. “Arithmancy. They’re terrible. An absolute disgrace to Slytherin. Now, come on, let’s have some fun. I reckon they’re behind that tapestry halfway down. You know, the one with that coat of arms and the randy unicorn.”

Theodore Nott tutored students?

She froze, staring at him with a look of incredulous amusement on her face, trying to imagine him teaching. Actually, that didn’t help her situation at all and she quickly abandoned the image before it took hold. “It’s ‘rampant’, not ‘randy’,” she finally croaked, which only made him snicker softly. Of course he knew that. Flustered at having allowed herself to be goaded by him, she added, “So you’re familiar with that hiding place then, Nott? You’ve been caught there before, have you?”

“A gentleman never tells,” he said and strode off before she could stop gawping like a landed fish.

He flicked his wand at the huge tapestry and it peeled slowly back like a theatre curtain to expose the two mortified fifth years entangled within the alcove. Mercifully they were mostly dressed, just a little rumpled, and she and Nott sent the pair on their way with only ten points from Ravenclaw and ten from Gryffindor. Hermione would never be able to look the girl in the face again.

As the fifth years scuttled off like startled beetles, Theo turned to her and let the tapestry fall back into place. The ridiculousness of it caught up with them at the same time, and they both burst out laughing, the sound of it ringing on the cold stone of the corridor. It was a relief to laugh, she realised as her eyes watered and she felt giddy and light for the first time in weeks. She put her hand on the rough stonework of the wall beside the tapestry and let her body shake with it.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been caught like that, Granger?” Theo said once his own laughter had died down. He still had those delicious dimples though, and his eyes glittered.

Her face flushed hot and she remembered a few stolen kisses here and there, and once significantly more, with Viktor Krum.

Theo’s eyebrows expressed a very keen interest, and she began examining the needlework of the tapestry with sudden focus.

“Well, well,” he said. “I’m not going to pry, but that’s a very interesting train of thought you’ve given me, Granger.”

“Oh?” she said archly, half turning to look back at him over her shoulder and daring him to continue that with flashing eyes, despite the colour in her cheeks.

“Mm.”

“And who was it that you were caught sneaking about with then?”

Theo absolutely refused to say with whom he’d been caught, and in what state of undress, and by the time they reached the end of their patrol route, she’d stopped prodding at him for answers. He was a Slytherin after all, and did not divulge secrets willingly.

“Any plans for your birthday, Granger?” he asked conversationally as they made their way back towards the grand staircase. She didn’t have to accompany him, but hadn’t felt like returning yet. “You’ll be nineteen, right?”

A stray draft tugged at her hair and she shivered. With a shrug and a nod, she said, “No plans really. I’ll see what happens and play it by ear.”

“When is it again?” he asked, pace slowing as his eyebrows drew together into a little frown.

“Saturday.”

“No plans with Potter and Weasley?” he asked and when she shrugged again, his expression soured just a fraction more.

As they passed by a painting of a wizard, who looked remarkably like Charlie Weasley, wrangling a Hungarian Horntail, the dragon gave a shriek that made her jump. Theo chuckled softly and she felt her insides heat up all over again at the sound of it.

“Slytherin and Gryffindor quidditch try outs are this Saturday,” he said, sounding a little regretful, though she couldn’t figure out why.

“You don’t even play quidditch,” she scoffed, happy to have moved away from the topic of Harry and Ron.

“Draco does. He’s going for seeker, remember?”

“Oh, of course. He’ll probably get it too - he’s apparently quite good.”

“Mm. Prodigious. You should see him now. He trains practically every morning.”

She thought about the lone flyer she’d seen and wondered if that had been Malfoy. It seemed likely, but she didn’t bring it up. “Ginny asked me to come along, but…” she grimaced. “It’s really not my thing.”

“Really?” Theo snorted sarcastically, turning to look at her from one step ahead. He was still taller than her by a long shot, even then. “I had no idea that you didn’t enjoy quidditch, Granger. It’s not as if you’ve ranted extensively and effusively about how ridiculous you think the whole game is on a number of our patrols this term…”

She punched him on the arm and he just laughed and skipped jauntily down the staircase as he headed back to the Slytherin Dungeons for the night.

“See you tomorrow, Granger,” was all he said as he left, waving jauntily over one shoulder without looking back.

Hermione didn’t watch him go. Instead, she turned and glared at the Horntail in the painting as she passed, and then stumped back up to Gryffindor tower, feeling oddly conflicted. Patrols weren’t supposed to be this much fun. They were supposed to be sensible and practical, like books, but… then again, books could also be a lot of fun. It had been such a long time since she’d really allowed herself to even dream about anything so flippant as her interest in the opposite sex. Theo’s dimples kept drifting back into her thoughts, and even the silver eyes of Theo’s best friend. Once or twice, when they went soft and even gentle, she’d even thought Malfoy startlingly attractive. He still looked haunted and tired, but he had lost a lot of the hard, jagged edges recently.

With thoughts of a pair of puzzling Slytherins filling her head, she fell into bed and, for the first time in months, it didn’t even cross her mind to think about setting unnecessary wards. Her head hit the pillow and she fell deeply asleep.

___

Chapter Five

If you enjoyed, please reblog and share! I’m new to the fandom on here and appreciate all the help I can get!

___

writing masterlist | Ao3

#draco #draco malfoy x theodore nott #draco malfoy x theodore nott x hermione granger #dramione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #draco x theo x hermione #hermione granger x theodore nott #harry potter fanfic #draco fanfic #draco imagines #i still have no idea how to tag stuff so that people can find it

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years

Text

The Distant Turnabout

Bullshit Defense AU. Siblings in Khura’in, and the events of Cosmic Turnabout.

[more Bullshit Defense AU fics]

Something is wrong.

It’s an intuition that Nahyuta has lived his life with — not of the spiritual power of his mother or sister, nor cut off from it like the rest of their family. Just a feeling, like butterflies swirling about in his skull, that something has twisted, taken the wrong path, the threads yanked sharply to the side and woven into the tapestry in a different place than what the pattern read.

He has spent the last 27 hours in that state of unease, knowing without answer that something has gone wrong. He has spoken to Amara and Dhurke, Rayfa and Datz, the high priest and monk trainees, vendors at the market, guards at the palace, everyone everywhere who might have felt something rumbling. But there is nothing, nothing but unease — no. Uneasy was what he felt before Apollo told him that he had stood in court as the lead defense for the first time and gotten his boss arrested for murder. This is dread.

This is dread clawing at him, with a strength he can never before recall, and even now that he has an answer, it has not ceased.

Maybe it is because this is no complete answer, only a news article about a bombing, no name of the dead or the injured, and to fill in the gaps he has made twenty calls to Apollo that have gone straight to his voicemail. Hi, you’ve reached Apollo Justice. Leave a message and I’ll call you back. His accent is all American now, all foreign, like someone else has stolen his brother’s voice but can’t get the native Khura’inese inflections right. He doesn’t leave a message because he knows he will say things that he will regret, knows that some curses once uttered cannot be taken back, and he will not wish him to Hell when the Twilight Realm may have already taken him to now decide where his soul will dwell until it returns to the world as something that will not be him.

It is three in the morning, a trial in seven hours, and Nahyuta is wide awake, unable to even meditate because he is waiting for a call or an answer to an email or five messages scattered across social media that Apollo barely uses or an update to a news article, waiting, waiting for the icy grip of fear to release him. He thought he was good at waiting, at patience, thought the training of a monk had prepared him, and usually it has, usually he is not failed by his long-practiced calm—

But he is, now, thanks to Apollo, Apollo impatient and loud and fiery and restless and everything Nahyuta is not, and it will have damned him. If he had not left, this would not be happening — Nahyuta would not be drowning in failing to get answers; he would not be remembering that the last time Apollo visited was two years ago. “Are you ever going to come home for more than a week or two again?” Rayfa asked, Rayfa who was growing up more of her life than not with one of her older brothers on the other side of the world, and Apollo told her he would, once he was settled in his career, once he could leave for a month without losing his position at a firm, once he had job security of the kind that he always could have found at Dhurke’s law office, then he would come home. He promised to come back.

It just might be in a casket now.

He calls Clay and remembers as the voicemail begins that if everything happened as it should, he is not even on the planet right now. There is no one else whom Apollo knows that Nahyuta knows, nothing left at this point but to track down any online contact information for the office that Apollo works at — Shields, is the name? — while he keeps calling, again and again, to get nothing but a recording. Hi, you’ve reached Apollo Justice…

The door creaks slowly open. “Brother?” Rayfa asks, brushing her tangled hair away from her tired eyes. “What is wrong?”

She knows that something is. Nahyuta turns his laptop toward her and she leans her head against his shoulder as she slowly works her way through the news article, sounding the English words out under her breath as she goes. When she reaches the rundown of the casualties, injuries treated on site and hospitalizations and dead, one poor soul dead, she stops, her mouth still open, and she raises her head. She looks at Nahyuta, her eyes wide. Her jaw tenses.

Nahyuta moves at the same time she does; he springs from his chair and she to the door, carelessly throwing it open again and racing out into the corridor. He pursues her through the halls to the heavy doors that lead out into the garden, before which she hesitates only a moment, straining to drag them open. That gives Nahyuta just enough time to catch up to her, but after a last moment to gather herself, she bounds forth into the cold winter wind and lets the door start to swing closed in Nahyuta’s face. He wrenches it open to see Rayfa in flight across the garden, the snow so iced over that she does not sink into it and her thin slippers barely leave mark on the surface. His feet are bare, and her shawl and nightgown only enough to keep her warm before the fireplaces of the palace; neither of them are prepared for the mountain air, but both of them children of the Holy Mother, dragons unyielding, and neither falter.

Rayfa reaches the far wall, behind the monument to the Defiant Dragons and victims of Ga’ran’s rule that was once a tomb for Amara, and scrabbles at the snow at the base of the wall to expose damaged stone and a hole large enough for a child. He tries to grab Rayfa as she worms her way through, but she tugs her shawl out of his hands and vanishes. The monument has enough handholds that he can scrabble up the side of it and leap to the top of the wall, where he barely has time to make a cursory scan for guards before he has to jump down and keep running after Rayfa, who has just slipped around a corner.

They take the long way to the temple that avoids the guards out in front of the palace, winding through the market. The city is dark and still, no sound but the wind and the crunch of snow beneath his numbing feet, and nothing moving but his sister in white like a wraith darting through the alleys ahead of him. The stairs up to the temple doors are iced over and Rayfa slips on her way up. Nahyuta lifts her back to her feet and they walk slower the rest of the way to the huge doors that are never locked, into the chilly silence of the temple. At this hour some monks should be awake but none have reason to go the same way as Nahyuta and Rayfa, up the towering staircase into the Hall of Justice.

Rayfa runs again at the top of the staircase, flinging her shawl from her shoulders as they pass the defendant lobbies, and Nahyuta snags it from the ground as he passes. He stops at the defense’s bench and waits, watching his sister scream her invocation to the Holy Mother over the wind rattling the windows and howling across the open skylight, and he wonders if now in this cold emptiness and near-silence, with not even bells to punctuate Rayfa’s manic energy as she spins about the Pool of Souls, if they will watch their brother die through his own eyes.

The pool remains empty when she drops to the ground beside it, panting. Nahyuta sinks to his knees beside her. “Did you see something?” he prompts, praying that here in this hallowed space this morning they will not face the worst. O Holy Mother, please. Please keep my brother safe. Please do not usher him to the Twilight Realm today.

She shakes her head. “Nothing. He lives,” she says and she flops over sideways, pressing her face to the cold stone floor.

The knot in Nahyuta’s chest has not been cut, has barely begun to unravel, but he can breathe. He can breathe again. Thank you, Holy Mother. Thank you.

They wait there for a long time. Nahyuta prays with his eyes fixed on the butterfly mosaic in the depths of the pool. Rayfa’s breathing quiets and slowly she sits back up, leaning her head on his arm. “When will he come home?” she asks. “Why won’t our brother come home?”

He smooths down her wind-ruffled hair and has no answer for her.

Snow has started to fall, down through the open ceiling into the pool.

When they leave the temple, it is even colder, the chill biting even deeper down into their bones. Rayfa is bleary-eyed and stumbling but if they linger they will freeze. Nahyuta isn’t particularly attached to his toes but he still would like to not go through the loss of them. He nudges Rayfa with his shoulder. “Little Sister,” he says, smiling at her disgruntled expression, “we should race back to the palace.”

“I’m not a child,” she protests, hunching up her shoulders and balling her hands into fists. “I don’t need you to trick me into getting home sooner.”

But when he starts off at a jog, glancing back over his shoulder, she stands there glaring for a moment longer, and then runs, tearing past him and down the main way. From the temple it is a much straighter and shorter path to the front gates of the palace and it is there that they head, knowing that the guards will not stop them from going back in — though no doubt in the morning they will face questioning as to how they got out undetected and further tightening of guard rotation to make sure the feat will not be repeated. How many times did that happen long ago — and how many times did Apollo and Nahyuta escape again? Apollo, son of a wandering minstrel; was running just a part of his blood and bones by birth the way that power was for Amara’s line? Could Apollo ever have stayed?

The baffled guards have barely started walking them toward the residence wing of the palace before when Datz materializes in front of them, wearing an expression that is uncharacteristically solemn. “I’ve got ‘em from here,” he says, waving the guards off, and scooping Rayfa up like she is weightless. She is too exhausted to make even a cursory protest. “Rayray. Yuty. What are you up to?”

“We had to go to the temple,” Nahyuta says.

“Had to? Really? That quick?” He glances toward Nahyuta’s feet. “Back in my paratrooper days I knew a guy who got frostbite and had to cut his own toes off.”

“Hm.”

“We had to go to the Pool of Souls,” Rayfa murmurs, her face buried in her shawl. “For Apollo.”

Datz stops dead. “What?” he asks. “He — he’s not—”

“There was a bombing in a Los Angeles courthouse,” Nahyuta says, “and I cannot reach him. Rayfa had an idea of how we could know. He isn’t dead” — Datz visibly slumps and Rayfa squeaks as though she thinks she is about to be dumped on the ground — “but beyond that I know nothing of how he is doing.”

“Well, if he’s not dead, I wouldn’t worry about him.” Datz laughs. “Near-death experiences are like a rite of passage for your family, what with your parents. AJ’s just following tradition. He’ll be fine.”

Nahyuta plants himself in front of Datz.

“Oof. You’ve got your old man’s death glare.”

“It isn’t funny.”

“Sure it is. Everything’s funny if you look at it the right way.”

Nahyuta leaves him to bundle Rayfa into five layers of quilts and shuts the door to his own chambers. His laptop is still open, his phone still lying on the desk next to it.

He has no missed calls, no new emails.

“Oi! Yuty!”

He wakes, phone still in his hand, to a yell and a heavy weight landing on top of him. Rayfa is sitting on him when he opens his eyes, and Datz is in the doorway. “Court in forty-five minutes, Yuty.”

“I — what!”

“Hey, since you were up half the night once you finally passed out I figured I should let you kids sleep.” Datz laughs. “You’ve never been late before, yeah? Once won’t kill you—”

Nahyuta shoves both him and Rayfa out of the room. “I will not be late.”

And he isn’t, even though he has to brush and braid Rayfa’s hair while meeting with the last witness in the lobby, and braid his own while giving his opening statement. The judge frowns but makes no remark on it; across the courtroom, at the defense’s bench, Beh’leeb looks at both him and Rayfa with worried eyes. Dhurke probably told her what happened; Datz said that he spoke with him about it earlier in the morning.

Nahyuta still has not heard from Apollo.

The day in court goes smoothly, despite everything else; the rest of the afternoon crawls by and when Nahyuta has finished the work that needs doing he returns to the temple, where Rayfa has lingered. He finds her in the Hall of Justice sitting next to the pool while Datz is perched on the prosecution’s bench. “He’s still alive,” Rayfa says before Nahyuta can ask.

And they know nothing more than that, and the sensation of dread tangled around his heart has not released him.

He doesn’t sleep much that night either, digging into the new articles that tell a little more about the bombing. The suspect is an eighteen-year-old legal student, allegedly with a grudge against the courts after she was arrested and tried for a crime in which she was not the culprit. Nahyuta doesn’t know what to make of that reasoning: surely there was some sort of evidence to point to her but if she was exonerated, why would she go forth to ruin her life committing a crime for real? He would ask what legal student would know anything about making and setting off a bomb, but he and his father both have some areas of knowledge that one wouldn’t expect for lawyers. The weight of the revolution lingers on his family’s shoulders.

The lone victim of the bombing is a detective, in to testify for the case that was ongoing in that courtroom at the time of the explosion — a case that just happened (no, no, even from the other side of the world, Nahyuta does not trust it to be coincidence) to involve another bombing. One at the Cosmos Space Center.

He has barely read the words before the apprehension tight in his chest has started to loosen, the pressure hissing free. The bombing interfered with the expected rocket launch, and that, that was two days ago, that was when Nahyuta felt the pall of cold fear over him. This is his answer why, and he can breathe again but feels also like he is still drowning. Apollo is not dead but his best friend might be. Unquestionably, Clay must have been caught up in events at the Space Center, and Nahyuta knows him just well enough to feel that distant crushing fear for him the way he does for his brother.

He alternates calls to the two of them with naught but exhaustion to answer for his efforts.

O Holy Mother, if they are both alive and well, pass on to them the knowledge of your protection from all things but me, because I am going to strangle them both and once they are reincarnated as earthworms, dig them up to feed to Rayfa’s pet frog.

The next day is worse, Rayfa antsy and snapping at everyone, Nahyuta feeling the same as her but better at hiding it even while he arranges for a plane to take him to Los Angeles in the morning if he does not hear anything about Apollo’s condition, right up until he isn’t; right up until the afternoon shadows are lengthening with the setting sun and he is in his father’s office, snarling at Dhurke while everyone else who was in the office immediately flees from it. It’s been a long time coming, them about Apollo, if one of them did something to drive him away forever, if the Sahdmadhi name is too heavy of a mantle that Apollo had to run to the other side of the world for the chance to be anyone more than Dhurke’s son.

“Perhaps I am ‘overbearing’,” Nahyuta says, when Dhurke asks in disbelief exactly how many times has he tried to call Apollo since news of the explosion, and Rayfa has called him overbearing before, time and time again, and perhaps his other sibling feels the same, “but that is far better than to be as you and not care in the slightest!”

And that is a monstrous thing to say; it is not the worst thing he has ever said, but anything crueler has only ever been uttered to unrepentant murderers who are already damned by something stronger than Nahyuta’s words. And he should apologize; he opens his mouth to, and flees the office instead, before something worse can emerge from his lips. He leaves his father looking stricken and runs straight into Beh’leeb who has stayed frozen on the doorstep on her way out. He apologizes profusely to her for nearly knocking her off her feet, more than is necessary, knowing that he is trying to balance the scales for what he just said to Dhurke. (That is not how balance happens. Good done for one will not directly cancel out evil to another.)

“Nahyuta,” she says gently, when he has almost managed to compose himself and fallen silent, “you know that is not true, yes?”

He hangs his head in shame and she does not follow her statement up with immediate elaboration, but instead invites him to supper with her and her husband, the high priest, and the foreign woman who has been staying with them for the past six months. It isn’t until they are in the market, Nahyuta with his arms full of the meats that Beh’leeb has purchased for her household for the next week, that she resumes the conversation. “He speaks often of Apollo,” she continues, “and how proud he is to see him coming into his own in a country in such desperate need of honest lawyers as America is.” She shakes her head. “We are fortunate that Ga’ran did not have such time to inflict on our country and courts the damage that has been done to Los Angeles — but your brother has the spirit of a dragon, and it is for knowing his strength that your father does not show his worry.”

Nahyuta does not know how to respond to that; instead he says, “I am sorry that you had to hear that. It was wrong of me to say at all, but especially unbecoming where others may hear.”

“I will utter of your family’s struggles to no one,” Beh’leeb replies.

Once the royal family were thought to be nearly gods, at the cusp of divinity; now they are only known to be far too human, far too fallible. There was Ga’ran, cruel and power-hungry and manipulative and the least of her faults the fact that she was born lacking any spiritual power and thus by tradition shouldn’t have ever held the throne; there was Amara to stand before her kingdom and admit that she was both alive and had been fooled by her sister into believing that the corrupt one was Dhurke, not Ga’ran. What is left is their mistakes, laid bare like the snow-chilled highest mountain peaks for all their kingdom to see.

At least the Inmees are old family friends.

Tahrust has not yet returned from his duties as high priest at the temple, but the house is not empty when they arrive, the smell of broth wafting to the doorway — along with something slightly burnt. “Oh dear,” Beh’leeb says. “Maya!”

A cry of surprise comes from the kitchen as Beh’leeb rushes into it. “It’s good! It’s good! I can fix it!” The other woman’s accent is awkward, with too much of a hard edge to her words, but even through her labored pronunciation, it isn’t difficult to understand her. Nahyuta follows them to the kitchen to find Beh’leeb opening a window, just barely more than a centimeter to let the wind clear out the smell without freezing them, while the other woman, who wears a pale lavender kimono and a magatama hanging from a beaded necklace around her neck, hastily removes a sauce pot from the stove and nearly knocks a laptop from the counter as she searches for a place to set it.

“I’m sorry!” she repeats, grabbing the laptop and slamming it shut and stuffing it into the spice cabinet above her head. “I was trying to contact my family again and I forgot to—” She frowns suddenly, her mouth still moving, searching for a word. “To pay attention.”

“What happened with your family, if I may ask?” Nahyuta says, in English, because he has always found it to be a bit of trouble to communicate in a second language when in distress.

She jumps like she hadn’t seen him come in. “Oh!” she yelps, sounding very American, but in the next moment she is fumbling for Khura’inese again. “Hap’piraki! My name is Maya Fey.” She claps her hands together in front of her and bows.

“I am Nahyuta Sahdmadhi Khura’in,” he says, again still in English, and he sees Beh’leeb turn her head with a hand over her mouth to hide her laughter at the two of them talking past each other in languages foreign to them. “It is very nice to meet you.”

“Nahyuta Sahdma — oh! You’re the prince!” Maya’s eyes are very wide. “I’m sorry, I know how to address your mother and sister but not what to call you—”

“It’s fine. You may just call me ‘Nahyuta’.”

She still looks thrown off-guard, but after a few moments the question that he asked her sinks in and her face falls. “My siblings are lawyers in Los Angeles,” she says, and Nahyuta knows how she will finish the sentence before she does, “and yesterday there was a — a—”

“Bombing.” He fills in the word for her in Khura’inese before she can spend any more time grappling with it. That isn’t something that she should have any reason to know how to say. It shouldn’t be relevant vocabulary.

“I’m surprised you heard about it,” Maya says, her eyes downcast turning toward the ground, and Beh’leeb shoos them both out of the kitchen for as long as they will be conversing and not contributing to the efforts of supper. “But, yes, the bombing” — she trips over pronouncing it — “and my family are all lawyers. My brother had a case that morning. I haven’t heard from him. I know he isn’t dead,” she adds, sounding surprisingly assured of that fact, “but only one of my sisters has responded to any of the messages I have been… spamming” — she drops that word in English — “them. And she only responded with ten words. Maybe twelve. ‘Everyone’s alive’, thank you, Sis, but that is the barest amount I want to know. If ‘alive’ is the best you can say, I am worried!”

She does a good job of looking angry, but it is obviously a mask. “And I don’t have a phone with international calling so I can’t just annoy them all and…” Her mouth is still open when she trails off, staring at the phone that Nahyuta offers her from his pocket.

“My brother is a defense attorney in Los Angeles as well,” he says. “And he is very, very bad at communicating to me that he is alive. I understand how you feel.”

“Thank you,” she says, taking the phone and staring at it as though it is a treasure of unimaginable worth. “I — thank you.” As she jabs at the numbers with far more force than a touch screen needs, she mumbles to herself in English. “Miles I hope you’re still asleep so I can ruin your morning. Wakey-wakey, you stupid jerk!”

Nahyuta retrieves the laptop from the cabinet and returns it to the sitting room and is just asking Beh’leeb what he can do to help her salvage the unburnt sauce when there is a loud “Ugh!” and Maya storms back in. “He didn’t answer,” she says, and though she likewise waits for instruction from Beh’leeb, she doesn’t relinquish the phone. They work in silence for several minutes before the sound of the Plumed Punisher theme song rings out. All three jump, Maya and Beh’leeb both looking around in confusion before they realize that the sound is the ringtone of Nahyuta’s phone.

“Miles!” she barks before she has even fully brought it up to her ear. “You’re terrible! You’re the worst brother, you know that right?” Frowning, she edges from the kitchen, and though he knows he shouldn’t, Nahyuta finds himself straining to listen to her side of the conversation. A lump is gathering in his throat again; not dread, but something like loss, an absence of something. Neither of them should have had to chase down their brothers like this; but especially not Nahyuta, when Apollo should have stayed here safe in Khura’in.

“Mia said everyone’s alive but that’s hardly reassuring — you weren’t? Was — oh no, he was?” Maya is pacing small circles near the threshold to the kitchen. Now that she is speaking in English, her words tumble out quickly enough to throw Nahyuta off momentarily; he is not so used to following along with spoken English. “Oh good, but I — what kind of trials are you running, anyway? What is going on?” She falls quiet for about thirty seconds, her face creasing into a deeper and deeper frown. “Of course Fran’s not explaining anything. I hope it really is over soon. Also, hey, question for you — you’re like a human directory of all the defense attorneys in Los Angeles, right? No, yeah, you are. Hang on one sec.” She lowers the phone, covering it with one hand, and catches Nahyuta’s eyes. “What’s your brother’s name? Maybe someone in my family knows him. Sahdmadhi?”

Nahyuta shakes his head. “His name is Apollo Justice,” he says.

Maya raises an eyebrow; it could be a question as to the fact that they do not share the same surname, or it could simply be a reaction to Apollo’s slightly-ridiculous but also ridiculously-fitting-for-a-lawyer name. “I met, um, someone” — the prince of the kingdom, and Nahyuta can see why she doesn’t want to launch directly into that — “who’s worried about his brother in LA and since you are too totally a lawyer directory, do you know an Apollo Justice?”

They wait, Nahyuta leaning against the doorframe, Maya nodding along with whatever is being said on the other end of the phone, and then her eyes widen and she says, “No way, really? He works for Uncle Ray? — Uh huh, okay, yeah, gimme a sec.” She looks back to Nahyuta. “He’s okay,” she says, but the knot in his chest hasn’t yet released him. “He was in the hospital again today, or yesterday, ugh, time zones, but he’s okay.”

Ah. So this is why he still feels something is wrong. “Again?” Nahyuta asks. “For what injury was he — for what reason was he admitted to the hospital the first time?”

She returns to the phone to ask that. “He was hurt in the bombing,” she explains, and the vice squeezes tighter around Nahyuta’s ribs, “and then got knocked in the head by a suspect while investigating.”

He wants to scream. He nearly does, but he murmurs thanks to Maya and ducks back into the kitchen before he can get any more details that are any worse. This shouldn’t have happened — this wouldn’t have happened, not in Khura’in, where anyone would know that only the deepest hells await as punishment for assaulting a son of the royal family; for laying a hand on Dhurke’s son. But in America, Apollo is no one, and maybe that was what he wanted in leaving, but it is killing him. It nearly killed him.

“Yeah,” he hears Maya saying. “That was the soonest plane there was. I’ll see you around the new year, at least! Say hi to Nick and Trucy and everyone else for me.”

She reappears in the doorway with a thin smile on her face, but it vanishes when she sees Nahyuta’s expression. “I’m sorry,” she says. She hands him the phone back.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I owe you a great many thanks for asking after Apollo.”

The frown doesn’t leave her face but they set back to the work of cooking without any further discussion. When Tahrust arrives at the house to find Nahyuta there, he doesn’t question it; Beh’leeb will probably give him the summary later, her promise to keep quiet never extending to her husband. But for now Nahyuta has to say nothing, merely do as he is told and listen to Maya and Tahrust discuss her training, whatever that is. She keeps casting glances from the corner of her eyes at Nahyuta. She probably thinks he doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t broach the question until after the meal, while he and Maya are sent back into the kitchen, able to clean up without supervision, no chance of burning or oversalting anything. “Forgive me, but I heard you say to your brother that you wouldn’t be returning home until around the new year?”

“Oh. Yeah. I mean, you know Khura’in isn’t a huge tourist destination — no offense meant! And Ahlbi’s gonna change that, that kid is determined to set up a rousing tourism industry — and especially not in the winter, so the plane schedule is eh if I don’t want to take three or four bumpy off-roader rides down through the mountains to the next country over and a bigger airport.” She has reverted back to English; maybe the full conversation at supper, three different people coming at her in Khura’inese, exhausted her enough for her to return to her default.

Nahyuta nods. Apollo has mentioned — complained about — it. “Generally, yes. I have arranged, in the morning, for a craft to take me to one of the larger airports, and then on to Los Angeles, and given that I have already coordinated this, it would be no trouble if you wished to accompany me.”

“Perks of being royalty, huh?” she asks with a wry grin. “But that would be really great, you have no idea. Or maybe you do, a little. Brothers, y’know?”

He leaves the Inmees’ house feeling more reassured than he has for the past three days. It is dark by the time he reaches the palace, slipping back to his chambers to book an additional ticket for Maya for the second leg of their journey. Rayfa finds him there and sits on his bed in silence, staring at him with owl-eyes. He has closed his laptop and set it aside by the time she finally asks, “Will you make him come home?”

Make him. Would that with the Holy Mother’s blessing it be that easy. “If he doesn’t wish to, I cannot.”

For lack of a staff to tap against the ground, Rayfa slams her hand down against the quilt. The bedsprings creak, weak from long-ago years of being jumped on. “Nahyuta!” she says imperiously. “I want my brother to come home!”

And what is he to say to that — that Apollo has always and will always be split between two worlds, always hunting for the family that gave him a name and a bracelet, and that has led him to a dangerous foreign city in which he still hopes to establish a life? In which he has already established a life? Has a job, friends — or really just one that Nahyuta actually knows anything about — a cat—

“I know you do,” he says. Rayfa slides to the floor and storms from the room. Nahyuta follows her to find and apologize to Dhurke. The shame gnawing at him doesn’t cease even when Dhurke offers forgiveness before Nahyuta has even finished asking for it; Dhurke brushes off hurt too easily, and Nahyuta somewhere learned to dole it out too well.

“Maybe sometimes I do regret that Apollo grew up as my son,” he says, the two of them shut away out of hearing in Dhurke’s study in the palace, where some files for his case coming up for trial next week sit ignored on the desk. “He should’ve had his own father; it was our family’s shit that stole him away from his. You, Nahyuta, you’re stuck with me.” He laughs and claps a hand to Nahyuta’s shoulder. “By blood and birth, you’re never getting out of this. But Apollo…” He scratches his chin. Nahyuta stares out the window into the darkness; somewhere beyond it, the walls around the palace, and further, the mountains. “Sometimes I thought about sending him away myself, back while Ga’ran still had the throne. I couldn’t decide if that would be better or worse for fucking him up in the long run, this life here with us or one alone abroad.”

“And now once he has left, the safer place is here in Khura’in,” Nahyuta says.

In the morning, Datz drives him and Maya, with Rayfa demanding to be brought along for the ride, out to the airfields in a jeep that probably hasn’t been properly inspected since the revolution. The fact that it doesn’t have a roof and lets the wind like icy daggers cut them through is one of the lesser of its problems. “You probably wish you hadn’t come along, huh, Rayray,” Datz says and Rayfa, who had her head buried in Nahyuta’s back to hide from the wind that has continued even after they have stopped, stomps her feet indignantly but doesn’t speak, her scarf pulled up over most of her face. Datz laughs and ruffles her wind-battered hair further. She doesn’t say anything to Nahyuta when he leaves, just hugs him fiercely, and the several times he glances back she is not looking at him, instead huddled into Datz to shield herself from the cold.

It is a flight of several hours to Kathmandu, where they have two hours’ wait to board their next plane. Maya asks if he likes the Plumed Punisher because of his ringtone; he tells her that it was Rayfa who set it and then tells her not to ever let Rayfa know that he said this. “It’s her most closely-held secret,” Nahyuta explains, to Maya’s laughter. “She does not like to be thought of as a child liking childish things.”

“Childish?” Maya asks. “I’m not a child!”

“I did not say—”

Her cheeks puff out in comical rage. “And my brother’s even older than us and he really likes the Steel Samurai!”

“What is this ‘Steel Samurai’?”

Maya spends the rest of the wait explaining the show to him — it sounds remarkably like the Plumed Punisher and what of it he has watched with Rayfa — and once they are situated on the plane and her excitement over traveling first class has calmed, she pulls up an episode on her tablet, which leads into another seven episodes. He doesn’t exactly see the appeal of it but if he treats it like a case investigation, trying to pick apart what the draw is for adults like Beh’leeb and Maya and her brother, it is almost enough to keep his mind occupied.

She is again cagey in response to his question as to what she is studying and training for in Khura’in; he files this information away in his mind, against the fact that Beh’leeb and Tahrust seem to very much like her. She does tell him that her family line traces back to Khura’in, by way of Japan, and then without giving him time to comment on this she launches into bragging about her siblings, two defense attorneys and a prosecutor. She stops for breath long enough for Nahyuta to ask her about her uncle, who Apollo works for; this nets him only a little information about the man, who seems decent enough, and instead some of the tangled story of Maya’s family, how half of them aren’t even related by blood and two of her siblings are step-siblings and one of them was adopted into that original family, long before her mother married their father. Her uncle isn’t related to any of them by blood or law — “Well,” she says with the most catlike of grins and Nahyuta braces himself, “not by marriage or adoption or anything, but we’re all related by law because almost everyone is lawyers.” He groans.

She stops herself eventually, after explaining how her niece was adopted — “And don’t even get me started on whatever Miles and Nick’s deal is” — and she gives Nahyuta a curious look. He wonders if perhaps she questions if he cares, but then she asks, “So how did your brother end up in LA anyway? It’s a long way from Khura’in.”

“It is,” he agrees.

But she regaled him with the story of her family built out of mismatched pieces, confessed to him that she is resigned to worry, almost too weary to feel it at all, in times such as the occurrence of this bombing, because she has sat beside vigils for too many of her family before. And he tells her, start to finish, where it crosses with the history of his kingdom, of his family, and all of the reasons he can think to call to mind to explain what it was that made Apollo decide to stay so far away.

Maya is quiet for a while. “It’s a lot to live up to,” she says finally. “A name like that. Like my sister, Fran, the prosecutor, the adopted one, she’s got Dad who’s great, since she was, like, two — and she’s still always been so curious about where she came from.”

“Though she never ran off to — was it Germany, you said?”

“Well, no, but her name ‘von Karma’ is even more infamous there — okay, maybe it’s not quite like your brother’s situation. But kinda. Family’s complicated, is what it is.”

“von Karma?” Nahyuta repeats. “That…” He has heard that name before, but not recently. “There was a prosecutor with that name, a very long time ago. He was disbarred and jailed for cutting deals with witnesses, forging evidence, and attempting murder.”

“Yeah, that’s the bitch,” Maya says. “Fredman von Karma.”

That sounds right to his memory, but Maya started giggling halfway through the name and hasn’t stopped, and that he cannot trust. “Are you certain that is his name?”

“Of course I am!” she says, and her giggling intensifies. He resolves to investigate for himself later.

They watch half an episode more before they land in Guangzhou for another layover of another several hours. Nahyuta meditates and Maya, Holy Mother preserve her, drinks coffee by the litre, almost incomprehensible in her babbling as the caffeine kicks in. He makes a few last attempts to contact Apollo that come up empty. Maya reads the expression on his face and manages to wait about ten minutes before she asks if she can borrow his phone to text her siblings to demand one of them pick her up from LAX. By the time they board the plane, she looks like she is crashing from her caffeine high, but she has put together a eighteen-hour “Optimal Viewing Playlist” for the rest of the Steel Samurai and many of its associated sequel and spinoff series. “How many derivations of this show are there?” Nahyuta asks, regretting it when Maya begins counting on her fingers only to give up and shrug.

It is a very long flight across the Pacific Ocean. It ends with a bottle of terrible airplane wine split between them, the Best of Children’s Television playlist still unfinished, and Maya with no idea if she has anyone who will be meeting her at the airport. She makes several calls to increasingly-exasperated siblings while they wait in line to pass through customs, on her own phone, finally, and Nahyuta fires off a few messages to let the rest of his family know he has arrived. And then, Apollo. Hi, you’ve reached Apollo Justice…

“Brother, this is your last chance for a response before I show up on your doorstep,” he says, his Khura’inese mingling into the rest of the chorus of languages around them. Maya doesn’t pretend that she isn’t trying to follow what he is saying. “I will show up on your doorstep anyway. I did not book a hotel.” He sends another email to cover the main bases of communication, nearly writing may the Holy Mother forgive you for the grief you have caused us, before he settles instead for the equally passive-aggressive but nonetheless not-as-harsh, sooner or later your family would like to be informed, by you, that you are alive.

He tries to simply catch a taxi and leave Maya behind to wait for whichever sister she roped into picking her up, but she catches him by the arm and hangs onto him, insisting that he let them drive him instead of paying for someone else. He tries and doesn’t succeed at shaking her off; she seems to have decided that they are friends now and that she owes him this. After one last attempt he relinquishes control of his life in this moment to her, waiting on the sidewalk with her awkwardly trying to balance herself on top of her suitcase, complaining about how he isn’t showing any signs of jet lag. “You monks and your monkish ways,” she says, toppling off of the suitcase and crashing into Nahyuta.

“It is not as though it is not possible for others to learn these same skills and hone their will in the same manner,” he says, watching her decide to just sit in the middle of the sidewalk instead of standing back up.

“I like food too much to have willpower.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t know what to say to that. Again he wonders what exactly it is that she is studying in Khura’in.

Los Angeles does not get dark; the sky, a beautiful abyss, is lit up with an absence of stars, filled instead by glowing windows in skyscrapers several times taller than the palace. He thinks of Clay and Apollo, both of whom have told him so much about the stars, and would have to haul themselves so far outside of their home to see them in more than the models and projections at the Space Museum.

He again prays Clay is all right, because if he isn’t, then Apollo isn’t, either.

The car that Maya’s sister arrives in is an old and silver beat-up thing, foreign for its lack of mud splattered up the sides. He catches a glimpse of a magatama around her neck, surprising him — he had supposed that it was something Maya had picked up in Khura’in. She awkwardly twists herself around in the driver’s seat to offer him a hand to shake. “Mia Fey,” she says brightly. “Thanks for bringing Maya home. It was a nice surprise.”

“I am happy to have been able to help,” he replies, taking her hand after a moment of ah, yes, this is America, and then folding himself into the back seat. “I am Nahyuta Sahdmadhi.”

“We’ll drop you off first at Apollo’s place,” Mia says. “I already got his address from Ray, actually. You might’ve seen from Maya and anything Apollo’s told you that we’re an odd bunch, but we look out for each other, and since your brother works for Ray, he’s one of our own now, too.”

“Thank you,” Nahyuta says, and he doesn’t know how to properly convey that he means it.

Would he have dropped everything to run to the other side of the world had he known that Apollo had found employment with such a tight-knit group of people as Maya described? Perhaps not — likely not, Had he been assured that there were others besides Clay to look out for Apollo.

But he wasn’t. Apollo never told him enough about the people he works with. Apollo was always bad at responding to messages, even when there wasn’t a crisis.

Traffic is slow-moving and loud, a cacophony of horns and screeching tires, and Mia grumbles at the gridlock while Maya bothers her in a way that reminds Nahyuta of Rayfa. “You know,” she says, while Mia slaps her hand down to stop her from flipping off the car that nearly sideswiped them, “I do kinda miss this chaos whenever I’m not in it. Good to be home.”

It is darker around Apollo’s apartment building, the street lamps spaced further apart and flickering. The buildings are shorter but the moon has still not crested the horizon. Home — this is home for him? This drab, dismal place, with all the life of a mausoleum? Even in the coldest months of winter, Khura’in has a warmth that this city never will.

“Do you want us to wait here for a bit?” Mia asks, opening her door and standing halfway out of the car as Nahyuta grabs his bag from the trunk and slings it over his shoulder. “In case Apollo isn’t home, so you’re not sitting in the hall waiting for him.”

Will he be home? It is late enough that unless he is overworked — and if he is being overworked after two stints in the hospital, Nahyuta is going to have words with his boss — he should be home from the office. And if he isn’t—

“Thank you, but I shall be fine, even should he not be home. I will be able to get in.”

Maya sticks her head out the window. “Like, you’ve got a spare key, or…?”

He considers that question and decides that the best answer is the lawyer’s answer, an evasive nonanswer. “I will be fine,” he repeats, leaving her with no room to further question by continuing on immediately. “Thank you both for this most gracious assistance you have given me,” he says. “May the Holy Mother’s blessings follow you both as you go about your lives.”

“See you around!” Maya calls as they pull away; perhaps it will be here, still, or perhaps not until they have both returned to Khura’in.

And then he is alone in the faint light, to enter the building and find a broken elevator sectioned off by yellow tape — he could probably litigate that if it has been for any significant amount of time. Apollo’s apartment is on the third floor, up two worn flights of stairs where some of the steps are not the same height as the rest and down a hall with unevenly carpeted flooring. Nahyuta tests the doorknob and finds it locked, to which he is thankful; more the inconvenience for him but at least Apollo is not leaving himself wide open to danger. He knocks several times, increasingly louder, to no response. “Apollo? Apollo!”

Where is he? In the hospital again? Would Mia not have said so if he were? He slams a hand against the door, willing it to open before him, to show his brother’s face at the other side, his brother who is to be in his next life an ungrateful slippery worm desperately trying to wriggle away from the fishhook that is his family’s concern. O Holy Mother, did you suffer this too with your sister, the mighty Lady Kee’ra? How often as she chased down your foes did you wonder for her safety? Were even you afraid?

He can’t say he didn’t foresee this, and from his bag he removes a set of Datz’s old lockpicks. Datz had been insistent, starting before Nahyuta can properly remember, that they learn the less savory, slightly shady skills critical to survival as children of the revolution. That the revolution succeeded and they went from a hidden home in the mountains to a wing in the palace didn’t deter him, to Amara’s lasting chagrin. “You never know what will happen in the future,” he said, and while Nahyuta is certain that he was preparing them for something much more dire than this — well, he will still need to thank him for it.

As long as no one spots him doing this and calls the police. What was the name of Maya’s sister, the prosecutor — Fran von Karma? He isn’t above dropping a few names and finding strings to pull if the alternative is Khura’in finding out that its prince was arrested for breaking and entering.

But like he anticipates, though he considers the other prospects, no one passes by and the door clicks open for him to slip into the dark apartment without trouble.

In the doorway he fumbles for several moments for a light switch. He finds it just in time for something to brush against his leg and he looks down at the cat weaving its way around his feet. It continues to encircle him as he steps forward, seeming to try very hard to trip him up. “Apollo?” he calls. His brother could be home, just asleep, or in a coma with a concussion, or—

No, he would have felt it were it something worse than that.

“Pohlkunan! Are you here?”

Silence greets him. He sets his bag down and begins to investigate the apartment. The cat has fresh water and food and the litterbox has no stench: someone has been here recently enough to take care of it. The bedroom is a mess, which is very unlike Apollo: he has been leaving in a hurry and on return has no energy with which to take care of anything in his home. The dishes piled in the sink further suggest this. The refrigerator is nearly empty, the pantry filled with ramen: it still leaves the question of whether he always eats like this or if it is further evidence of the toll of this week. Nahyuta takes one of the packages and squints down at the instructions on the wrapper. Can this actually taste better than airplane meals? He has doubts. He hunts down a scrap of paper and a pen and while he eats sets to work on making a proper list of necessary groceries. Even leaving aside the apparent issue of vegetables, what Apollo has to call a spice cabinet is abhorrent.

Rayfa has sent him a message asking if he has found their brother yet. He does not respond right away, waiting until he has cleaned up the most obvious messes in the kitchen, praying that Apollo will walk through the door and he will be able to answer their sister, yes. Apollo’s laptop is on the couch and he makes a few cursory attempts at guessing the password, all of which fail; any clues to where Apollo is this evening, and whether it is part of a pattern, will remain locked away. Perhaps he is with Clay, wherever he is. Perhaps he is with some other coworker, someone else who is part of that network of lawyers.

Maya at some point while using his phone left her number in it, and if in a few hours he still knows nothing he will use her as a starting point for his search, but for now he settles onto the old couch to meditate. The cat crawls up into his lap, purring like the engine of a truck, and there Nahyuta waits for his brother to come home.

#bullshit defense au #bullshit defense fic #god this was a fucking nightmare to write i had absolutely no idea how the fuck to write nahyuta #did my best at getting down the right beats of what i think are his core attributes but! i don't know! i've got no idea! i'm trying.#i hope he's recognizable enough as nahyuta. one who hasn't gone through all of the garbage with ga'ran anyway #anyway this idea - specifically the part w what rayfa does - has been haunting me for a while so i'm glad to have it done #which is why i'm posting it at this odd fucking hour. 9:30 est idgaf i'll reblog it 8 times tomorrow i don't care #roddy fanfics

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lightchildofthespring · 3 years

Text

The fantastic adventures of Takeru Takaishi

Chapter 5: Old foe

Summary: As Sora faces the man responsible for her father's death, Taichi has to decide how far he's willing to go to save his sister.

Before they headed to the mansion, the group stopped close to a huge lonely tree on the field. Underneath it was one of the secret spots where the revolutionaries kept extra guns, in case of emergency. After digging in the dirt and retrieving a chest, Yamato opened its lock with the back of his shotgun. Once the chest was open, Koushiro reached out to get one of the weapons, but Yamato stopped him, reaching his arm to keep Koushiro at a distance. The others, who were surrounding them, observed silently their exchange of gazes.

“Who are you?” Yamato asked Koushiro, coldly.

“I thought we were past introductions at this point,” Koushiro told him, seemingly annoyed.

“I'm not lending you a weapon until I know I can trust you,” Yamato stated.

“Yamato, didn't you see how he was willing to die to help us?” Sora asked.

“He also warned us about the invasion! He saved our camp!” Daisuke pointed out.

“He kind of saved my life without even knowing me...” Ken murmured.

“Just because he's clearly a conman doesn't mean he can't be useful for us,” Miyako gave her opinion. “His fake death trick was really convincing.”

“Besides, we're already letting a henchman of Yamanaka join us. Koushiro couldn't possibly be someone worse or more suspicious than Ken!” Iori commented.

“I'm not a henchman!” Ken protested.

Yamato closed the chest, putting one foot on its lid. He crossed his arms and kept staring at Koushiro, refusing to be distracted by anything.

“Who are you?” Yamato asked again.

Koushiro had a somber look on his face. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and began to say:

“I was just someone trying to help my friend Hikari... I wanted to bring her back to life, and then I made everything worse... not only was I cursed, but I also doomed Taichi, Hikari's brother... my best friend...”

“You were trying to bring someone back from the dead?” Sora asked, softly.

“To be cursed with endless resurrections for trying to resurrect someone is quite the dramatic irony!” Takeru sounded impressed. “Was that how you got the clairvoyance as well?”

“No... that was before... it's not really relevant now...” Koushiro muttered, looking away.

“Is Taichi like you? Does he die and resurrect?” Daisuke asked.

“Taichi is invulnerable,” Koushiro replied. “He's incapable of getting physically hurt. He can't die nor age... and he also believes that if he kills me for good his sister will-”

“Who cursed you?” Yamato interrupted. He observed how Koushiro paled after hearing that question and grew more suspicious. Nevertheless, the other gave him an answer:

“It was a woman with a blue staff... she was guarding a door...”

“What woman? What door? What does that mean?!” Yamato was losing the little patience he still managed to have.

“That's enough, Yamato! Leave Koushiro alone!” Sora reprehended him.

“But he hasn't given us any satisfactory answer!” Yamato protested, turning to Sora. “How can you expect me to trust someone I know nothing about?!”

“You knew nothing about me back when I barged into your farm all those years ago and yet you trusted me right away!” Sora reminded him. “If you can't trust Koushiro yet, then trust my judgement about him.”

Yamato sighed, feeling defeated. For a long time, he had found himself unable to deny a request from Sora. He heard a smirk from his right and saw Takeru smiling maliciously at him.

“Soooo... she barged into your farm, huh?” Takeru teased. “Was it love at first sight? Why did you trust her so quickly?”

Yamato felt blood rushing to his face and stuttered:

“T-That's not r-relevant right now!!!”

“Hey, now that I think about it, I never heard how you and Sora met!” Miyako said.

“Yeah! She just showed up with you one day and told us 'it's a long story!'” Daisuke added.

“Like you were a lost animal she had taken in because of pity,” Iori commented in a serious tone.

“You're kind of a harsh person, aren't you, Iori?” Ken observed.

Iori narrowed his eyes and looked at horizon as he stated:

“Life is harsh.”

Relieved that he no longer was at the center of attention, Koushiro approached Sora. She had been watching Yamato being interrogated with an amused face.

“Thank you for defending me,” Koushiro told her, bowing slightly.

“It's alright!” Sora said. “Don't mind Yamato. He might seem difficult now but once you two get to know each other better you'll be friends in no time.”

Koushiro lowered his head, bearing a depressed look.

“Anyway,” Yamato spoke again, turning to Sora. “We still have to discuss what we're going to do once we reach Yamanaka's place.”

“What is there left to discuss?” Sora asked, giving him a serious look. “We'll kill him.”

“That would be a terrible idea,” Yamato told her. “Remember how the revolutionaries of the Pine Tree Archipelago were villainized after they killed their nobles ten years ago?”

“Don't you think they deserved to be villainized after what they did?” Takeru questioned. “Aside from murdering innocent wealthy people, they're Devil worshipers who dance naked around bonfires and eat children for breakfast! I read all about it on the Imperial Press!”

There were a few seconds of awkward silence. Then, Miyako and Daisuke began to laugh.

“W-What is so funny?” Takeru was confused.

“See?” Yamato talked as if he had proved a point. “That's the kind of imperialistic propaganda they'll use on us if we kill Yamanaka. They'll turn the people against us and the revolution will lose! We can't kill him!”

“Are you suggesting we should let that tyrant live because otherwise people would spread lies about us?” Sora inquired. “I don't know if you noticed it, but we're already villainized! You heard what Ken said about the revolutionaries earlier!”

“Sora, we have to be smart! We can't afford to make mistakes now!” Yamato stated. “If we kill Yamanaka, we'll be risking everything we've ever fought for! The Empire will strike us at full force!”

“Oh, because the Empire hasn't been striking us so far? Is that what you're saying?” Sora retorted. “I suppose all the people we've lost were due to the Empire going easy on us!”

The tension between the two of them was making everybody nervous. Takeru decided that he should do something to bring those two into an agreement. He couldn't refuse an opportunity to use his mastery of oratory for a good cause.

“What if you put Yamanaka through a trial?” Takeru suggested. “You could assemble the revolutionaries and prepare a public trial, in which you'll list his crimes and get testimonies. And you have to make sure everybody on Turtle Island will follow the trial. A talented public speaker could convince the people of his villainy. Also, get someone to be his defender, so people will see that it's a fair trial.”

“That's... actually a good idea...” Yamato murmured, seemingly astonished.

“I have to say, Takeru, that's the smartest thing I've heard from you!” Daisuke praised Takeru, enthusiastically.

“I suppose a trial could have a positive effect for our cause...” Sora muttered.

“I still think we should kill Yamanaka while we have the chance,” Ken said.

“No, a trial would make things more legitimate,” Miyako told him.

“It'd be a way to expose all the bad things he's done,” Daisuke added. “We can't underestimate how many supporters he still has.”

“That way, more people would see Yamanaka as their enemy and not just as the enemy of the revolutionaries!” Iori concluded.

“I guess it's decided, then...” Sora said, looking down.

“It's the right way to do things. Everything will work out,” Yamato promised her.

Sora smiled at him, but there was no joy in her eyes.

Daisuke and Miyako tied Yamanaka to a chair while Ken and Iori kept aiming their shotguns at the old man. Sora observed the scene a few steps away, keeping her arms crossed. Although she tried to remain calm, the fury in her eyes was evident. Yamato, who couldn't take his eyes off of her, could only imagine how difficult it was for her to be close to the person responsible for her father's death.

“Why don't we just kill this guy now, anyway?” Ken wondered.

“We're not having that discussion again!” Iori replied. “We must assemble the other revolutionaries and put him through a trial!”

“And what do we do with him before the trial?” Ken asked. “Throw him in jail?”

“You bandits wouldn't dare to incarcerate me!” Yamanaka shouted. “I am a noble! The very rules of the universe dictate that I am a superior man!”

“Oh, be quiet already!” Daisuke ordered while tightening the last knot. “Your reign of terror is over! It's time for you to face all the people you've hurt, Yamanaka!”

The old man's eyes widened in terror when he heard that. But then his scared expression was replaced by one of outrage.

“You wouldn't dare to touch me!” Yamanaka roared. “All the disgraces of the world will befall you if you hurt me in any way!”

Miyako slapped Yamanaka.

“Oh my goodness, look at this!” she said in an exaggerated surprised voice. “I hit a noble man and nothing happened to me at all! It's almost like the so-called divine nature of monarchy is a fraud designed to keep mediocre people in power!”

The look on Yamanaka's face was of someone who had been slapped fifteen times in less than a minute. Meanwhile, Ken looked at Miyako with profound admiration.

“How are you more blasphemous than that damn monk?” Yamanaka asked in a weak voice. “He was spitting some crazy nonsense about the Devil but you, young lady, really outdid him! What are you going to say next? That all humans are equal and deserve equal rights?”

“All humans are equal and they deserve equal rights!” Miyako stated.

“You really are crazier than the monk!” Yamanaka affirmed.

“Stop talking to that man already!” Sora ordered, startling everybody. Even Takeru, who had been observing Koushiro and the monk staring at each other at the garden for a few minutes, turned his attention to Sora.

Yamato looked at her with concern. Sora's body was shaking and her eyes shone with tears she refused to let go. Being in the presence of that man was clearly too much for her.

“Those eyes of yours...” Yamanaka had malice in his voice, “could you possibly be Takenouchi's daughter? Tell me, how much did she like the death I arranged for her husband?”

The fury that Sora had been controlling for so long exploded and she advanced in that man's direction. Yamato put himself in front of her just in time.

“Sora, you can't let him play with you!” Yamato pleaded.

“Right! Sora! That was the name of their daughter!” Yamanaka laughed. “My men told me that your father died crying both your name and your mother's! I wish I had been there to watch, it must've been tremendously entertaining!”

“Shut up!” Sora shouted. She wanted to hit Yamanaka with all the pain she had borne for years, all the heartbreak that he had caused. But Yamato wouldn't let her do it. No matter how much she tried to evade him, Yamato continued to block her path.

“Get out of my way! Why are you protecting him?!” Sora inquired.

“I'm protecting you, Sora!” Yamato answered. “Don't fall for his mind games! You have to be strong!”

“I'm tired of being strong!” Sora cried, at last letting the tears she had been holding back flow. “I'm so tired! He has to pay for what he did!”

“He will! I promise you that!” Yamato assured her.

He gently wrapped his arms around Sora. She hugged him back and buried her face on Yamato's shoulder.

“Pathetic!” Yamanaka mocked.

Miyako hit his head with the back of her shotgun, which made the old man lose consciousness. That action made Ken's admiration for her grow even more.

“I'm going to go get Leader and the other revolutionaries,” Miyako announced. “I'll be back soon, unless I get hit by divine punishment.”

“I'll go with you,” Daisuke offered.

“Thank you...” Sora said, letting go of Yamato. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and showed the others a small smile. “Let's do things properly and bring justice to my father and every other person wronged by Yamanaka.”

They all nodded.

“Hold on, what happened there while I wasn't looking?!” Takeru suddenly shouted, pointing at the garden. Taichi had pinned Koushiro against the grass and crossed the redhead's heart with his sword. A puddle of blood was forming around them.

Taichi was expecting Koushiro to give his usual excuses, like he always did.

The redhead's lies had long lost the ability of deceiving Taichi. Nevertheless, Koushiro always insisted that he wasn't the villain Justine had made of him.

However, Koushiro also never denied trying to rescue Hikari's soul. Nor did he deny that she was sent to Hell because of him. Those facts alone were more than enough to prove his guilt. So what if Koushiro had good intentions? His excuses wouldn't save Hikari. Only the purging of his soul would.

Taichi never enjoyed taking his friend's life. Because of that, Taichi always tried to do it as quickly and painless as possible, always hoping that Koushiro had finally died enough times. But he kept coming back, asking Taichi to trust him... promising that he could still save Hikari but couldn't tell him how. Taichi could only wonder if his friend would ever get tired of repeating those lies.

Judging by his current silence, Koushiro seemed to be done with the lies at last.

“Have you finally given up?” Taichi asked, slowly approaching the other.

“Never,” Koushiro replied.

“Are you going to fight me, then?” Taichi inquired.

Koushiro put the shotgun on the grass and kicked it to his left, out of his reach.

Taichi was a few steps away from him, close enough for the tip of his sword to touch Koushiro's chest. Koushiro didn't flinch.

“When I kill you this time... please, don't come back...” Taichi pleaded. “She told me that you just need to yield. Just say that you've learned your lesson and this will all stop. Our souls will be able to be at peace. Hikari will go back to Heaven and we all will be together again. Don't you want that? Give up now! Let me save you!”

Koushiro gave him a serene look, as if Taichi's words weren't affecting him at all. Could he really be that heartless?

“Hikari told me that she wanted to leave Turtle Island and see the world,” Koushiro said.

“Enough with that story!” Taichi roared. “Hikari was happy on Turtle Island! The three of us were happy together! She would never say such a thing!”

“To you, she wouldn't,” Koushiro let him know. “She was always trying to protect you. Even in her deathbed...”

“How many times do I have to tell you the truth until you get it?!” Taichi was losing his patience. “Hikari had accepted her death! She accepted that she was sick and nobody could do anything about it! But you...” Taichi pierced the other's chest with the sword, “... you just had to play the savior, didn't you?! You went there and played with forces you didn't understand and because of that my sister is in Hell and I am a monster!”

Taichi sunk his sword in Koushiro's chest. Not satisfied, he plunged his body to the grass. Koushiro kept looking at him, not breaking eye contact even once, no matter how much pain he was feeling. Taichi kept pushing the sword, until its hilt was touching Koushiro's body. Its blade was nailing him to the ground. At that moment, Taichi was kneeling by his side, watching as life faded from his eyes like he had done so many times before. Once Koushiro took his last breath, Taichi closed his friend's eyes.

And then, the sword was forcefully pulled out of Koushiro's body by an unknown force and launched into the sky in such high speed that Taichi lost sight of it. The wound in Koushiro's chest rapidly closed. In a matter of seconds, the redhead opened his eyes and stood up again.

“You had never come back this fast before...” Taichi muttered, in shock.

Koushiro had an exhausted look on his face. He took a step forward and nearly fell, but was able to stay on his feet.

“I don't think I can afford to take breaks anymore...” Koushiro murmured. “You can kill me a thousand times... one billion times... and I'll return right away...”

“Stop it!” Taichi ordered. “Don't you understand that I'm trying to save your soul?”

“Even if you were to break my resistance, that woman wouldn't bring Hikari back...” Koushiro told him. “When will you understand that she sees you only as a tool to use against me?”

“Quiet!” Taichi shouted, grabbing Koushiro by the arms and pulling him closer. “How is it possible that after everything I've done, after all the times I've killed your body, you continue to be as blasphemous as you were back then? What will it take to make you yield?”

“I promised Hikari...” Koushiro said; his voice was so weak it was barely audible. “I can't stop... I can't stop now...”

At that moment, a distant memory resurged in Taichi's mind. In the room where he had been watching over his sister's body, Justine appeared before him. She told him what Koushiro had done and what he, Taichi, had to do. He could hear those words again, almost as if she was muttering them in his ear.

“Angel of Death, I give you wings made of holy fire. They will protect your body from everything and purify anything they touch.”

For all those centuries, Taichi had refused to resort to that. To submit Koushiro to that kind of death would be unforgivable. But what other choice did he have? If Koushiro wasn't broken by the countless deaths he had gone through, that one had to work.

Taichi summoned his wings.

They were six at total. Each one of them had two to three meters of wingspan and were made of orange flames.

With one flap of them, Taichi took flight with Koushiro, rising several meters into the air.

“Yield!” Taichi ordered.

Koushiro didn't say anything. He stared at the fire with eyes filled with horror. Taichi could feel his friend's body tremble, despite the heat emanating from his wings. Koushiro couldn't resist that, he just couldn't! He had to give up!

“I know you don't want to die like them,” Taichi told him. “I don't want to put you through that, so, please, just yield! Koushiro, I'm begging you... please, don't make me do this...”

Koushiro began to shed tears. It had been a long time since Taichi had seen him crying.

It had been a couple of months since Taichi and Hikari had rescued him from the sea. Koushiro barely talked to anyone and seemed to be scared all the time. They didn't really know anything about him.

Koushiro had said that he was from Shrimp Island, but gave no explanation about how he got to the middle of the sea. When asked if he had family, Koushiro looked down and muttered “not anymore.”

Taichi tried everything he could imagine to cheer the other boy up and make him talk more, with no effect.

During an afternoon when the siblings were spending time with Koushiro, who was brushing the Izumis' horses, Hikari said something that shocked both boys:

“I dreamed with your parents last night.”

Koushiro stared at her, astonished.

“Hikari, you shouldn't joke about that kind of thing!” Taichi scolded her.

“I'm not joking!” Hikari retorted. She then turned to Koushiro and continued “Their names were Ame and Shunsui, right? You really look like them, especially your mother. Her red hair was very beautiful...”

“How do you...?” Koushiro began to question.

“They asked me to tell you that you shouldn't feel guilty for running. They didn't want you to die with them... they didn't want you to burn...”

Those tears were just like the first ones Taichi had seen Koushiro shed. At that moment, Taichi realized he couldn't do that to his friend. Even though he was determined to save Hikari, that was a line he wasn't able to cross.

Then, Taichi felt something strange, a piercing sensation that seemed to set his nerves on fire. The sword that had been launched to the sky had fallen back. It made a hole in one of Taichi's wings and crossed his right arm.

The pain and the shock made him let go of Koushiro, who fell towards the garden. It should be impossible for Taichi to get hurt. But then, he noticed something else that was even more disturbing. There was a weak blue hue coming from the sword. He had only seen a hue like that once.

Taichi flew away. There was only one person who could give him answers.

“He's dead... he's actually dead this time... it's not a trick...” Miyako murmured, horrified, looking at Koushiro's body lying on the crater created by his fall.

“Don't worry, he's going to be okay!” Daisuke assured her. “How many times have we seen him resurrect today?”

“This isn't like one of his fake deaths, Daisuke! He fell from a really high place!” Miyako yelled. “He must've broken all his bones and his organs... I don't even want to think about his organs!”

“Miyako, you're the only one who still thinks he wasn't dying for real before,” Iori said.

“How can you deny Koushiro's supernatural nature after we just saw...” Takeru took a deep breath before continuing “... an invulnerable monk with wings of fire! How amazing was that? That man has to be on the cover of my book!”

Yamato kept observing Koushiro, waiting for him to come back to life like he had done before. He was getting apprehensive at how much it was taking for the other to resurrect.

Once again Koushiro found himself in that dark place. The cold wind whipping his face felt as painful as all the other times.

“I can't waste time here... I can't... I have to go back... I finally found Miss Sora...” he repeated to himself, trying to walk against the wind, “I can't stop now... I can't stop... I'm so tired... so tired... no, I can't take a break... I can't stop... Hikari... I can't stop...”

Then, he saw something he had never spotted at that place before. It seemed like a bar of flickering blue light floating a few steps in his front. The shape and the color of it reminded Koushiro of the staff used by that woman to curse him. Koushiro took a step in the direction of the light bar and stretched his arm, but a familiar voice made him stop.

“Don't touch that! It'll break your soul!”

He turned around and saw Hikari surrounded by pink light. She was wearing the white kimono she had when she passed away.

“You have more important things to do than coming to my rescue every time I get stuck in one of these...” Koushiro muttered, looking away. “I'd find my way out eventually...”

“You said that last time, and it took you 52 years,” Hikari said, giggling. “There's nothing to be embarrassed about, I help people in your situation all the time. Escaping Hells is my specialty.”

She approached him and offered him a hand. After Koushiro held it, he felt Hikari's warmth fill his soul. Almost instantaneously, the dark space was replaced by a flower field. The morning sun gave him a peaceful sensation. As he looked down, he noticed that there were no blood stains on his skin nor on the clothes Yamato had lent him earlier that day.

“Do you want to rest for a while?” Hikari asked.

“It's too easy to lose track of time here, and I can't afford it anymore, I finally found Miss Sora!” Koushiro replied. “We're so close now, closer than we've ever been... I can finally be more of help to you!”

“Don't burden yourself too much, we have many allies helping us,” Hikari told him.

“You have many allies helping you here... on my side, I'm alone...” Koushiro reminded her.

“Not anymore! You've found Sora! You've been waiting for her for so long, and finally you're with her! And her friends seem like good people,” Hikari said.

Koushiro frowned, thinking about how Yamato was still suspicious of him. There was no doubt in his mind that he would inevitably be betrayed by that man down the road.

“I know how hard it is for you to trust people after everything you've been through,” Hikari acknowledged. “But not everybody you befriend will turn against you. Trust me on this.”

“You're not the one who has clairvoyance...” Koushiro commented.

“My intuition is just as good as that,” Hikari affirmed, smiling.

He smiled as well.

“I need to go back...” Koushiro said. “I need to help Miss Sora get to where she has to be... I can't risk the plan by getting separated from her. And Taichi... I have to find a way to save Taichi...”

“We will find a way to save him,” Hikari assured Koushiro. “Don't burden yourself! There's nothing wrong in asking for help, you know?”

Koushiro didn't say anything. He let go of Hikari's hand, closed his eyes and felt himself fall. When he reopened his eyes, he found Sora, Miyako, Daisuke, Iori and Ken surrounding him. They all had relieved faces, but Miyako also seemed perplexed.

“You really can return from death...” Miyako muttered. “Are you... an actual demon?”

“I'm not a demon,” Koushiro replied.

As he sat up, he thought to himself:

As a matter of fact, I am the Devil.

#the fantastic adventures of takeru takaishi #basically supernatural taishiro angst #with some revolutionary Sora angst as well #koushiro izumi #izumi koushiro #taichi yagami #yagami taichi #sora takenouchi #takenouchi sora #au fic

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facets-and-rainbows · 7 years

Text

Blue Exorcist: Home Sweet Home (Part 3)

Part 3 of the translation. Come watch tiny Rin be adorably incompetent at caring for the sick!

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Part 3

I’ve been given a really important mission…

As he watched his father leave, Rin’s heart was pounding with excitement. He balled his hands into fists in front of his chest.

Normally, even for simple errands, Yukio would be handed the money and the shopping list, because “If I give them to you, Rin, you’ll buy things we don’t need.” It was totally unfair treatment and it hurt Rin’s pride as the big brother.

This was the first big job he had ever been trusted with. There was no way he wouldn’t give it his all.

Okay, this is my chance to clean my name, he decided, with a half-learned grownup-sounding phrase in his heart. If his father had been there, he probably would have said “You mean clear your name. What good would it do to clean it?”

Rin looked over at his brother and the monks, all of them red-faced and completely wiped out, and tried to remember what his father usually did when Yukio had a fever.

He was pretty sure his dad soaked a cloth in ice water and put it on Yukio’s forehead. When he did that, Yukio’s fever would go down so fast you could almost see it. That cloth was magic.

“First, I have to cool down their heads.”

Rin headed for the monastery’s kitchen. He looked around for a big bowl to put some cold water in, but he could only find small ones, so he grabbed a handy bucket that was sitting right there. He filled it up with cold water.

“Ice, Ice…” He picked up the heavy bucket in both hands and dragged it over to the refrigerator.

The all-male household had an industrial fridge. It had a lot of years under its belt, and it constantly made a low noise and vibrated. The noise was especially bad at night, almost like the fridge was moaning.

Yukio had been deathly afraid of the noise all the way up until they entered kindergarten.

Yukio was afraid of everything. Until just recently, he hadn’t even been able to walk to the bathroom by himself—he said there were ghosts and demons hiding in the darkness.

“I have to protect Yukio. I’m his big brother,” Rin said to himself, a dutiful look on his face. He stared up at the towering refrigerator.

The old-style fridge didn’t have a freezer drawer—the freezer was way up above his head. Poor short Rin had to get a chair, stand on top of it, and stretch as far as he could just to open the freezer door.

When Rin pulled on the handle, a rush of cold air whooshed past his nose. He winced at the cold, but he didn’t let it stop him from dropping the ice into the bucket from way up on the chair. A lot of water splashed onto the floor around him when he did that, but at least he had his ice water.

The bucket was even heavier now. He lugged it over to the bathroom with both hands. The towels were too thick for him to ring out, so instead he grabbed five thin rags that had been placed on the windowsill to keep the condensation from collecting there. He tossed them into the bucket.

The bucket was so heavy now that he was whispering “heave-ho” to himself as he carried it, and he stopped to take a break in the middle of the hallway.

“Being a doctor is hard,” he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.

But he looked a lot happier than those words would seem to suggest.

“Ugh…mmmph…”

Yukio had been tossing and turning with the fever when he felt something cool on his forehead.

The coolness felt good on his feverish face. But for some reason there was also an unnamable smell, sort of like mildew and sort of like sour milk.

Frankly, it stank.

Yukio opened his eyes and saw his twin brother’s face. He blinked blearily.

“? Nii-san?”

“Oh, Yukio. Are you awake?”

Rin grinned. When he pulled his hands away from Yukio’s forehead, his fingertips looked red with cold.

“How is it? The cold feels good, right?”

“Huh? Y-Yeah…”

Yukio nodded, trying to endure the smell. He turned his eyes upward to look at his own forehead, and saw an old rag. It was obviously the source of the stench.

No wonder it stinks…

Even worse, when he looked off to the side there was a bucket sitting there for some reason. Yukio was pretty sure it was the bucket they threw away kitchen scraps in.

But Rin looked really proud of himself, and Yukio couldn’t quite bring himself to give his honest opinion.

Yukio turned to his brother and gave him a (slightly forced) smile.

“Thanks…Nii-san…”

But it probably would’ve been better if it wasn’t a dirty rag, he added in his mind.

“Heh heh heh. No problem.”

Rin scratched the bottom of his nose, happy at his brother’s words of gratitude, and then went around to put dirty rags on his other four patients.

“Ugh…urrrrrgh…mmpf…ghh…urk…”

A pained whimper escaped the lips of Maruta, who was sleeping next to Yukio. Looking at his tortured sleeping face, Yukio felt sorry for him.

Izumi, Kyoudou, and Nagatomo seemed to be awake and struggling with the same dilemma as Yukio.

“Rin…thank you. You’ve done more than enough—you should go watch TV or something. Right, that battle anime you like! Isn’t that on right now?”

Nagatomo made a valiant attempt to get Rin to stop of his own accord, but—

“I can’t! Taking care of you guys is my mission, so I don’t have time to watch TV!”

Rin flatly refused him with uncharacteristic earnestness; he dashed out of the room, out of breath, saying “Okay, next is…” He was like a tiny runaway train. He had no brakes, and he would just keep going until he ran out of steam.

“’Next’? What’s he planning now?”

“So…I guess it’d be bad if we took these things off of our heads?”

“I…guess…urgh, it stinks…”

They all lay in their sickbeds trembling with fear until Rin returned some ten or fifteen minutes later. For some reason, he was carrying five leeks and a brown jar. He had, tucked under his right arm, a book of home remedies that his father the doctor had bought at a used bookstore in the True Cross Shopping District.

Home remedies—it was more like a book of superstitions. One time Yukio had looked over his father’s shoulder at a page that said to “apply a well-cooked leek to the affected area” as a treatment for hemorrhoids.

Yukio had a bad feeling. In fact, he had nothing but bad feelings.

Nagatomo, Kyoudou, and Izumi had sensed danger too. They pulled their heads under the covers like baby turtles and started dramatically pretending to sleep. The sounds of high-pitched fake snoring echoed from each of their futons.

Yukio was about to join them, but he was too slow—his brother was already crouched down next to his futon.

Rin set his bundle of leeks down on the floor and took a bright red pickled plum out of the jar. It was a big one, and so bright that Yukio could almost taste how sour it was just looking at the color. The bits of purple-red shiso leaves stuck to it only accentuated the sourness.

Yukio’s mouth folded into a pucker automatically. Rin’s mouth was doing the same as he held the plum.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, Yukio. It said if I wrap a leek around your neck and stick this pickled plum on your forehead, your cold will get better super fast! Pretty amazing, huh?

“Y-yeah, that’s amazing. But don’t worry about it, Nii-san. I’m actually already feeling better.”

Yukio shook his head side to side.

But that kind of indirect refusal would never get through to his brother. Rin, wearing a completely flawless innocent smile, just said “Don’t be shy!” and wrapped a leek around Yukio’s neck. He’d even gotten a cooked leek. The outer layer stuck right to Yukio’s skin.

“Urk…” Yukio squawked like a frog again as the leek tightened around his neck.

Next, Rin went to stick the pickled plum to Yukio’s forehead, but his hand stopped in midair. He frowned and went “hmmm,” his momentum fading.

Now that the leek had been added to the sour milk smell, Yukio had given up on breathing through his nose and switched to his mouth—though it still smelled a little even then. But he noticed his brother acting strange. And even with the fever and the awful smell, he was smart enough to know why right away.

There was no room.

I get it. The rag is already taking up my whole forehead.

Rin wouldn’t have a spot to put the plum on. Yukio breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that he might at least get the rag taken off. The pickled plum would be better than the rag. At least it wouldn’t stink.

“Nii-sa—“

“I know!”

But of course, his brother had to be maddeningly clever just this one time.

Rin’s face lit up and he snapped his fingers—unsuccessfully. He folded up the rag smaller and set it right in the middle of Yukio’s forehead, with a pickled plum on either side.

“Good!” he said, exhaling contentedly.

What do you mean good? Nothing about this is good, Yukio would have thought, had he been maybe ten years older. As it was, he was still young and innocent, and all he did was look terribly sad.

“You sleep tight, okay?”

“…”

Poor Yukio just nodded silently at Rin’s big-brother attitude.

He had been sleeping—maybe not too comfortably, but sleeping nonetheless—before his brother came and put a dirty rag on his forehead. But now he couldn’t sleep if he tried, not while he was being tortured like this.

Meanwhile, the three adults who had hurriedly pretended to sleep, plus Maruta who really was asleep, all had their futons forcibly yanked off so they could face the same fate as Yukio.

And then, to make things worse, Rin rolled up his sleeves and said “Okay, what should I do next?”

The monks paled.

“Please, please just sit still!”

“That’ll help us rest the most (mentally)!”

“I’m begging you, Rin! Have mercy!”

“Dad gave me a mission. I have to take good care of you!” Rin declared, shrill and defensive. He yelled “Ou!” to pump himself up and dashed out of the room. Everyone sighed deeply in their futons. They looked even more worn out than they had that morning.

In the following hours, the patients in their beds were assaulted by all sorts of trials and tribulations. All the windows were opened wide to the freezing cold, turning the whole room into an icebox. They each had to take their medicine with a suspicious cup of hot water that seemed to have dandelions from the yard floating in it. Beethoven’s ninth symphony was blasted at full volume, on the theory that “clasicle” music (Rin couldn’t spell “classical”) was good for colds. Their mouths were stuffed full of jaw-bendingly sour mikans…

But they didn’t resent Rin, who was a little ball of good intentions and responsibility. No, all their resentment was pointed squarely at Shirou, for telling him all this good-for-nothing information for fun.

“…Let’s slip something Fujimoto-sensei hates into his bowl at every meal.”

“Oden is off the menu for the rest of the year! And don’t even think about daikon!”

“I’m going to hang his futon out to dry in the shade from now on.”

“Fill his hot water bottle with cold water!”

The grown men were getting all wrapped up in planning their childish revenge. Yukio didn’t even have the strength left to try to defend his father. All he could do was endure the stench, which was growing worse by the minute, and the plums, which tumbled annoyingly off of his forehead every time he moved a muscle.

His father’s smiling face flashed across his mind. Even though he hadn’t been away for long. Even though he had Rin and everyone else right by his side…

Maybe the cold had weakened him mentally too?

I wish I could have some of Dad’s hot ojiya… he thought, keeping it to himself so as not to worry everyone.

He closed his eyes, and the darkness he hated so much closed in. The dark world where demons lurked. And all he could do was be scared, so scared…

Hot tears started to well up in the corners of his eyes.

He felt like a weak pathetic crybaby next to his strong brother, and it made him sadder.

[Go to part 4]

#in which Rin Tries His Best #and everyone else starts wondering if the whole eternal torment thing is genetic after all #blue exorcist #Ao no Exorcist #blue exorcist novel #home sweet home #translation

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galimatios · 6 years

Text

fear thy fortune chatlog notes

thinking abt the underdeveloped au i have in that weird off color fantasy universe that i realized is probably similar in ways to bloodborne even before i knew abt bloodbornes plot but this is nice bc i can solidify parts of it and i can probably also combine it with the knights au i have

OK I FORGOT TO PUT A CW HERE BUT CW FOR ABUSE MENT AND GORE MENT

somewhere located in present day west asia slash east europe theres a country divided into numerous states in which princes and princesses (princex (poc)/princen/etc for gender neutral options) are perpetually in contest with eachother for the right to be the divine ruler of the country

monarchy is not guided by blood, rather the church is responsible for finding the chosen candidates via prophecy, fururesight, dream interpretation, etc, and these kids are taken from their homes and reared as royalty the nature of this country is ... severe. pain is a gift, proof that one is alive. much ceremony is based in sacrifice, bloodspill, bloodsports, and pain endurance. magic as practiced by the church is extremely powerful in terms of healing so almost all wounds can be healed provided the heart still beats its essentially one big huge freakish cult of a country that has customs that seem barbaric to outsiders

the divine ruler of each state is the princens, though more often than not their councils do most of the governing with the princen merely being a puppet figurehead. they go through rigorous training to sharpen their minds and endurance against all types of pain, so training includes physical, mental, emotional trials in which the princen is supposed to keep a clear mind, concentrate on mediation or some mantra, bearing whatever is thrown at them. additionally they receive the best training in both combat and politics as well as magic. not all princen can withstand the requirements ofc so they.. vary quite a bit in terms of stability/constitution. its a p sick system even without the knights added in bc thats super messed up

the knights essentially belong to their princens in heart body mind and soul, and each princen receives exactly one knight soulbound to them. they also undergo the same scouting process once the princen is identified, and they undergo similar training except theyre also essentially brainwashed into believing their entire purpose in life is to serve and protect their princen no matter what. obviously this aint healthy! knights delude themselves into it so hard theyll fight for the system that literally abuses them! but thats how cults work

that being said knights are extremely powerful. they act as the sole bodyguard of their princen and believe me you dont want to get inbetween a knight and their prince. they are known especially for their brutality when their lords are threatened. it is extremely common for limbs to be lost in skirmishes btwn assailants and a knight

this takes us to the games! which are essentially gladiator coliseum type bloodsport contests between knights of different princens. its a pretty big affair like how the Olympics are for us so the fanfare the cheering the everything is all there i prob dont need to describe it in detail but its very violent. its considered practice for the knights before the true battle-royale type event thats even BIGGER bc it determines who becomes god-king of the country. this time the princen join their knights in the battlefield and basically whoever is left standing is the new king

is it worth it? probably not bc i think being king actually means being killed to be sent up to the heavens bc god kings dont need bodies any longer in truth the entire debacle is a distraction set up by the church to keep the country under its own control. its super corrupt. the council behind every princen is actually made up of high ranking church members that convene regularly to manipulate the politics of the region

but thats mostly the governing sphere of this world. the commonfolk are removed from most of this violence aside from the indoctrination by the church and the messed up religion they practice. a lot of the belief system here relies on this concept of karma and fate over free will. fate is oppressive, cannot be changed, but god do they try that belief ties into how princen and knights are fated to be pairs, how princen are fated to either ascend to godhood or die trying

but there is one way to manipulate fates in this world there exists in independent of the church a monastery that practices the art of transferring karma. think of karma as a type of currency that can be spent, saved, used, etc. lots of good karma may be distributed amongst loved ones via a ritual headed by a monk, or bad karma can be "paid off" essentially. the amount of good/bad karma a person has directly affects their fortune and luck. this practice is more or less outlawed by the church but the monastery is slowly gaining power over the commonfolk and the church mostly leaves the poor folk to rot anyway- their agenda mostly concerns the monarchy

altho i can definitely see tensions rising with the witch hunting as influenced by the church. particularly nefarious visions may result in blame being thrown around and commoners getting killed for crimes they have yet to commit and thats thanks to the teachings of the church

anyway as of rn though the monastery is still pretty small but it is an old, ancient organization with magic that runs far deeper than the magic of the church. it is a much more subtle magic- monks practice little offensive magic (they are a nonviolent sort anyway) but the ability to exchange karma is rare and has far more reaching impact in the long run i imagine they have strongholds further to the east but anyway theres one trump card the monastic order has

a subsection of the order is dedicated to the keeping of miracles. and miracles are... monsters! they are semi-physical manifestations of literal suffering and the sheer emotional energy provided by them is enough to give miracles the power to.. well. perform miracles.

when a person dies in anguish, there is a chance that their bodies will not decompose the way they are meant to. instead they slowly dissipate, bodies turning coal black and ashen to the touch. these cannot be disposed of the normal way (curses, contamination, all kinds of horrible things happen) so instead these corpses get locked up inside brick cells within the monastery

once, one of these was opened only to reveal that the bodies were gone- only a humming, massive shadow that seemed to move as if made of flies or soot combined. and it spoke, too. this was the first miracle created it was discovered then that these creatures had immense power but could not leave the rooms they were imprisoned in, touch sunlight, and similarly they could not die

imagine like the witchs nightmares in pmmm and you get what its like to be a soul trapped in a miracle. u get to relive ur worst fears and regrets forever. it suck miracles also cannot direct their powers towards their own will, only the will of others. ofc they are still monsters and exact a price for their services, whatever it may be.

a meeting with a miracle does not come cheap or without consequence, bc although miracles can be performed, karma always rebalances itself in the end. monks tasked with guarding and curating the miracles are called gatekeepers and are often someone close to one of the souls trapped in the vortex anyway i think thats the basics of everything in there... i got an au w cyrus as a prince and alex as his knight and instead of sticking around for their inevitable deaths the pair run off into the countryside far far away

actually i think something went wrong in the ceremony. cyrus and alex win godkingship of then... something goes wrong. probably the whole die-to-ascend thing is a secret kept from the princen and the public and. alex does a thing a knight should not do a refuses to let the ceremony continue. and im p sure as soon as cyrus learns of the truth hes like haha well fuck that

then they spend the rest of their days actually experiencing what life is like outside of a freakish cult and my fucking feels

i think.. meanwhile the monastic order grows in influence and power making them the enemy of the church... and jonah (yonah in this au) sacrifices himself to the miracle containing his brother in order to give the miracle a corporal form. which means august and company now have a physical conduit for all that power they had.

bad news for the church! bc august was unrightfully killed bc of a prophecy saying that hed become a huge threat and a killer

funny how prophecies work!

so now hes out for blood and he probably uses his own charisma and power to stage a coup against the church and basically the country goes to hell and i think at this point cyrus thinks. i got out of there alive. i need to do something about this. so he and alex probably join in and become arbiters of the game esp since cyrus and alex were probably the best synced, most skilled prince/knight duo the church had seen up to that date so theyre very powerful. ofc theyre still only two people so i really wonder how theyll step in btwn these two opposing parties

augusts side isnt good either bc august... is only out for revenge and self interest. he has no interest in fixing the country or helping anyone in fact once august is firmly seated on the throne of power he probably declares himself god-king anyway the end game probably looks like augusts body (which is jonahs body) being destroyed and the miracle contained in it finally put to rest jonahs soul must have something to do with the exorcism process- theyve tried to exorcise miracles before and only ended up upsetting it into violent outbursts anyway thats enough rambling from me time to paste this all into a blog post

god what if august picked keith to be his knight. thats messed up. keiths so easy to manipulate and hed be such a wildcard of a knight. he has more magic potential than alex and hes faster on his feet. im imagining bloodlust frenzy almost hyena-like behavior. also i mostly just want to see keith being violent and evil and i have an outfit in mind that would look great with a little splash of red

think like minimalistic ouji but like all black and keith with knives and serving a clearly twisted (even more than usual bc of the miracle’s influence) august

god even better the aftermath of augusts death TIME FOR THE FUCKING FEELS TO KICK IN BC now Keith has no purpose/he FAILED to protect his king WHICH WAS HIS ONLY PURPOSE IN LIFE then alex coming in with cy and just no, you have inherent worth. what happened wasn't right im upset this is how alex and keith become family in this au

miracles i think in this case are definitely more of a means to an end i think narratively ie jonahs brother being killed and augusts soul being trapped within it- tho i think its a good tie-in into how the severe paranoid cultish way the society works ends up producing a lot of People Dying In Extreme Anguish

almost a buildup of sickness so to say.. a plague of the soul that's a cool avenue to go down tbh the idea that miracles are more like viruses spreading misfortune in the long run for some quick gain in this life but bc karma always collects her debts if i throw in some nice reincarnation that would effectively damn someone in their next life... that implies that this story may need to expand across different generations

mechanics being so much bullshit has happened in this country it houses multiple miracles whereas elsewhere its like one, or none, very few in their histories except possibly during wartime and famine

since magic is Exists in this it makes sense that the emotional energy combined w ambient energy would manifest in some kind of grotesque Being

oh no thats maybe why the church is manipulating things by purposely generating that emotional trauma in its society its producing unprecedented amounts of energy they can utilize as magic power oh no thats super bad august would definitely take advantage of that bc hed definitely figure the truth out once hes back to being alive

im upset bc i think they use princens and knights to specifically create emotional energy

energy released upon death which typically happens after a knight/prince duo has been chosen... then the resulting STRONG ass char plague on their bodies are collected to make artifacts? yes

gems created from the ashen plague are embedded into a huge mandala that actually ... is the god-king itself

#notes #worlds #fear thy fortune #abuse ment #gore ment #// this is pasted from a chatlog lmao

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avatarsymbolism · 7 years

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The Avatar and the Firelord: Aang and Zuko Parallels

Avatar: The Last Airbender gives us two juxtaposed storylines.

The first storyline, focusing on Aang, tells the story of an Air Nomad monk who, at the age of 12, finds out that he’s the Avatar. Faced with this burden, Aang runs away and accidentally freezes himself, eventually waking up one hundred years later in a world that has been ravished by the Fire Nation. With the coming of Sozin’s Comet less than a year away, Aang goes on an epic adventure as he tries to master all four elements so he can defeat Firelord Ozai.

Alongside this storyline we have the story of Ozai’s son Zuko who, at the age of 13, is burned and banished for speaking out of turn at a war meeting. Exiled from his home, Zuko is told that he can’t return until he finds the Avatar. When the Avatar finally reveals himself, Zuko begins chasing him, and we see how these two characters interact as the series progresses until Zuko ultimately joins Aang to defeat his father.

With that said, despite being two very different storylines, the experiences that these two characters go through have parallels and connections that help tie them together. Thus, this post will look at these two characters, as well as multiple Avatar episodes, to demonstrate the parallels between them.

But, before we get started, let me explain how I plan to go about this meta because, let’s be real, if you’ve been following my blog, you know that we have a lot of ground to cover.

Therefore, I’m going to start by going over some of the general themes, parallels, and contrasts that follow Aang and Zuko through their adventures, as well as going over some of the thematic trends that follow them too.

With that out of the way, I’ll get into the specifics—talking about the parallels that take place episode-by-episode and season-by-season. I won’t go through everything, since not all the parallels are important plot wise (like this one) but, I’ll go through the really important ones that help establish the storyline of each character.

So, with that said, let’s begin!

General Themes

Upbringing

Let’s start off by talking about Aang and Zuko’s respective upbringings.

The cultures that Aang and Zuko grew up in were very different from each other. Aang, growing up in a loving, supportive environment, grew up to be very much the optimist. This all changes, however, when the burden of his new identity as the Avatar, coupled with the possibility of him being separated from his father figure, Monk Gyatso, push him to run away. This eventually leads to him being frozen, and waking up a hundred years later in a world that’s been taken over by the Fire Nation.

Zuko, in contrast, grew up in a much more aggressive nation, one that chewed him up and spat him back out all because he was unable to conform to their warmongering ways.

I won’t go into too much detail here but, if you’re interested in reading more about the differences between the environments that Aang and Zuko grew up in, here’s a relevant link.

Now then, let’s talk about destiny.

Destiny

“Destiny is a funny thing. You never know how things are going to work out. But if you keep an open mind and an open heart, I promise you will find your own destiny someday.”

Both Aang and Zuko were born into their destinies—Aang as the Avatar, and Zuko as the Fire Nation prince. Furthermore, both Aang and Zuko face challenges when it comes to dealing with their respective destinies, and the responsibility that comes with it. Aang is constantly trying to figure out what it means to be the Avatar while also learning to become the Avatar, and Zuko is constantly trying to figure out his place as the Fire Nation prince.

Another related theme is how Aang and Zuko repeatedly deny their true destinies.

For instance, Aang grapples with his destiny as the Avatar as he runs away, and later lies about his identity. Likewise, Zuko too grapples with his true destiny as a potential ally to the Avatar as he travels around the world on his quest to capture Aang. As the show progresses, we see how both characters learn to fully embrace their true destinies until they ultimately come together in the last half of the third season.

On a related note, Aang and Zuko’s destinies shape many of their decisions, and these decisions often revolve around love.

For example, Aang, fearing loneliness and separation from Gyatso, runs away. And later, when he interprets Pathik’s words to mean that he must completely detach himself from Katara, Aang chooses not to let go of her, and thus not achieve the Avatar state (in “The Guru,” at least).

Similarly, Zuko, fearing losing his father’s love, bases many of his decisions on just that—gaining his father’s love. Thus, we see him constantly going after Aang, and even betraying his uncle just so he can have a shot at getting what he wants most.

Here, we see yet another contrast between Aang and Zuko. Where Aang knew where his true love and connections were, Zuko had to discover his through trial after trial. Aang knew his path from the start, and Zuko had to learn his.

Additionally, we see a very distinct arc when it comes to Aang and Zuko dealing with their respective destinies. This pattern also ties into the themes of identity and loss as well, and involves many parallels and contrasts which will be discussed even more as this meta continues.

Anyway, Book 1 starts off with Aang denying his destiny as the Avatar, while Zuko is pursuing his (or rather, he’s pursuing what he thinks his destiny is). As Book 1 progresses, Aang begins to accept his destiny, while Zuko is denying his—thus, spurring him on in his quest. By Book 1’s end, we see Aang being able to continue with his overall goal of ending the war, gaining a waterbending master through Katara, and successfully repelling the Fire Nation at the North Pole. Meanwhile, Zuko’s journey comes to an apparent halt when he’s forced to abandon his search.

In Book 2, Aang works on the next step of his Avatar training as he tries to learn earthbending. Here, we see him going from defense (defending the Northern Water Tribe) to offense (getting to Ba Sing Se and trying to get the Earth King’s help in ending the war). Meanwhile, Zuko is lost, having to let go of his desire to gain his father’s love as well as his birthright. With nothing to replace his dream of gaining his father’s love and his wanting to return home, we see him struggle to live in the Earth Kingdom, and continuously denying his circumstances as well as the truth of the war and his father in favor of hanging onto even the smallest shred of hope for having something like his old home.

Still, even in Book 2, when Zuko is desperately wanting to return home, there’s something boiling under the surface, something that for now lays dormant until everything starts to come together in Book 3 when Zuko begins to accept the truth of the suffering that both he and the people around him were put through. This, however, can only happen when he returns home, and puts aside his need for his father’s love.

That said, Book 2′s ending reverses what happened in Book 1. Where Aang successfully repelled the Fire Nation in “Siege of the North” here, he fails, and his quest comes to an apparent halt. Meanwhile, Zuko’s journey is seemingly able to continue after he joins Azula and regains his title and passage home.

This brings us to Book 3, which starts off with Zuko triumphant, while Aang is defeated and in hiding. Yet, we clearly see something happening under the surface, with Zuko struggling with his decisions and Aang preparing himself for a renewed assault.

Thus, we come to our big turning point with Aang coming out of hiding and again taking a stand as the Avatar, and Zuko finally putting everything together and joining Aang.

This brings us to one final note regarding Aang and Zuko’s destinies. Both Aang and Zuko are destined to be unifiers. Aang, as the Avatar, is destined to bring peace and harmony to the world; Zuko is destined to bring peace and harmony to the Fire Nation.

This brings us to our next topic: identity.

Identity

Regarding identity, we again see Zuko and Aang as opposites. Zuko is a rich, spoiled banished prince who desperately wants to reclaim his old identity as his father’s rightful heir. Aang, in contrast, is a simple monk who at first rejects his identity as the Avatar, only to later embrace it.

By Book 2, Aang has accepted his Avatar role, and tries to continue his Avatar training. Zuko, on the other hand, is still struggling with his identity, wanting to regain his title, and with it his father’s love.

At the end of the series, however, both Aang and Zuko come to terms with their respective identities, and accept those identities as a part of who they are—Aang as the Avatar and the last airbender, and Zuko as the scarred, and once banished prince of the Fire Nation.

That said, just like with their destinies, we see how Aang and Zuko’s identities, and their struggle with their identities shapes their decisions. Aang, as an Avatar wanting to distance himself from his identity, is constantly having to learn to fill his role, and having to deal with the burden of having to bring balance to the world.

Likewise, Zuko too carries a heavy burden. But, where Aang constantly tried to distance himself from his identity as the Avatar, Zuko constantly rushed toward his identity as the Fire Nation prince. Or rather, the sort of Fire Nation prince he thought he was destined to become.

But, what about those things that remind them of their identities, and the world they lost?

Let’s talk about scars.

Scars

“I used to think this scar marked me…But lately, I’ve realized I’m free to determine my own destiny, even if I’ll never be free of my mark.”

Ever since my first time watching the show, I thought Aang’s “I have a scar,” line was meant to be a metaphor for how he perceived his Avatar status. Since he’s the last airbender, he’s the only one with airbender tattoos. And, since the last airbender happens to be the Avatar, Aang’s markings immediately identify him as the Avatar—a status that he never wished to have, and a status that he had to learn to accept. With that comes his added guilt seen in Books 1 and 2 about how he couldn’t help the airbenders (a theme that crops up in “The Storm,” and “The Guru”).

What hadn’t occurred to me until recently though was the possibility of Zuko’s similar line back in the season 2 finale being of equally symbolic value. Of course, Zuko is just referring to his physical scar, and we as the audience know he’s only referring to his physical scar. However, we also know that the scar’s meaning is much deeper than that. For not only does the scar represent Zuko’s banishment and all the implications that come with that but, it later comes to represent Zuko’s honor—the very thing Zuko thought he’d lost.

Thus, Aang and Zuko’s markings are a constant reminder of who they are (or, who society says they are). For Aang, it marks him as the last airbender, and the Avatar; for Zuko, it marks him as the honorless, banished prince of the Fire Nation who’s unloved by his father (until Book 3, when his scar begins to represent his honor). By the show’s end, both Aang and Zuko embrace what those markings stand for, and choose to move on from their pasts to forge their own destinies.

This allows both characters to stay true to themselves—Aang stays true to his roots when he defeats the Firelord without killing him, and Zuko finally stays true to himself when he defects from the Fire Nation to join the Gaang.

This brings us to another topic: mentors and masters.

Mentors and Masters

One of the elements that factor into the parallels between Aang and Zuko’s narratives is the role that Gyatso, Iroh, Katara, and Mai all play in Aang and Zuko’s respective journeys.

Let’s start off by looking at Monk Gyatso and Iroh, and the role they play in Aang and Zuko’s narratives.

Iroh was Zuko’s mentor, father figure, and firebending master. Likewise, Gyatso was Aang’s mentor, father figure, and airbending master. Iroh and Gyatso both cared for their respective charges deeply, and gave them advice, guidance, and wisdom when they could,

Gyatso and Iroh were also there when Aang and Zuko were burdened with their identities the most. Gyatso was there for Aang when the world around him demanded that he take a stand as the Avatar to defeat the Fire Nation threat looming on the horizon, and Iroh was there for Zuko when he was doing anything and everything in his power to restore his honor. Occasionally, Iroh and Gyatso would step in, thinking it best for their respective charges to relax, and have a more healthy, balanced lifestyle.

When Aang runs away in the flashback from “The Storm,” and later when Zuko betrays Iroh in “The Crossroads of Destiny,” we again see a nice little connection between these two characters. Where Aang ran away because he was burdened by his role as the Avatar, because he lost his friends, and because he was faced with the possibility of being separated from Gyatso, Zuko was willing to betray his uncle to restore his honor, and again be with his biological father whose love and acceptance he craved.

This leads to a nice set of parallels that focus on Aang and Zuko’s relationship with Monk Gyatso and Iroh respectively.

First, we have this parallel in which Aang expressing his anger at his elders for wanting to separate him from Gyatso in “The Storm” parallels Zuko expressing his anger and frustration in “The Beach,” which he admits has to do with himself, and his decisions.

Second, we have this example, which deals with Aang and Zuko trying to come to terms with their decisions as they go about their respective journeys. This usually follows the formula of them grieving or being reminded of their loss, only to be consoled by Guru Pathik, Katara, or another member of Team Avatar.

This brings us to our third and final parallel of this sort, which features Aang mourning Gyatso, and Zuko crying as he begs for his uncle’s forgiveness.

Thus, while Zuko was eventually able to reunite with his mentor, Aang was not.

With that out of the way, we can begin to focus on Katara and Mai, and the role they played in Aang and Zuko’s journeys.

So, after Aang gets frozen, and after Zuko betrays Iroh, the mentor figure in Aang and Zuko’s lives gets replaced by Katara and Mai respectively. And, while the circumstances surrounding these two characters are very different, Katara and Mai still provide a similar role by giving Aang and Zuko guidance if and when they can.

Let’s start with parallels between Gyatso and Katara. This is a pretty straightforward comparison. Katara and Gyatso both give Aang advice, listen to what he has to say, and act as Aang’s airbending and waterbending masters. Additionally, both Gyatso and Katara want Aang to be viewed as a person, and not just as a sort of super weapon that could be used to defeat the Fire Nation. We also get a nice parallel when Gyatso and Katara discover that Aang is missing (complete with Aang on the water during a storm, albeit for two different reasons)/

Turning our attention to Gyatso and Mai, both characters listen to their respective charges. We also see another parallel which I’ll talk about later in this meta.

So, what about Iroh then?

To answer that question, we can look at two sets of parallels.

Let’s start off with Iroh and Mai. Just like with Mai and Katara, the circumstances surrounding Mai and Iroh are very different. On the one hand, Iroh knows Zuko a lot. He’d been traveling with him for three long years, so he knows what to expect and when. On the other hand, the last time Mai saw Zuko was before his banishment.

Still, they both try their best to help Zuko by giving him advice, as well as doing other things like trying to cheer him up (even if they sometimes fail to do so), just plain listening to what he has to say, calling him out when he partakes in destructive behavior (and trying their best to keep Zuko from hurting himself and other people out of anger and frustration), setting boundaries for what is and isn’t acceptable behavior, and even by just backing away when they have to.

Next, we have parallels between Iroh and Katara. Again, they play a similar role by helping Aang and Zuko along their respective paths. They listen to them, help guide them, try to make them feel better (even if it sometimes doesn’t work), they lend their voice when they think Aang and Zuko are about to do something that will ultimately do more harm than good, they try to keep the peace when it looks like things are getting heated, and they too back away when they have to.

Having said that though, we can also look at parallels between Katara and Mai, to see how they factor into the mix as well. Just like Iroh, they listen to them when they’re brooding (and again, just like with Iroh, when they try to cheer them up, it sometimes doesn’t work), they call Aang and Zuko out when they display problematic, or unhealthy behaviors, and they too back away when they have to.

Looking only at Katara and Mai’s interactions with Zuko though, we see some nice camera framing parallels, as well as some other parallels that help tie everything together. For example, both Mai and Katara try to help Zuko along his path, either by listening to what he has to say, or by trying to cheer him up. Furthermore, we have these two parallels that feature Zuko (and Ty Lee) saving Mai and Katara from Azula, as well as these two parallels that have to do with Zuko hurting Mai and Katara emotionally, and Zuko seeking their forgiveness.

Now, having gotten that out of the way, let’s talk about loss.

Loss

“It is still inside of your heart, and is reborn in the form of new love.”

Aang and Zuko experience various kinds of loss, and deal with their loss in different sorts of ways. But, the show still does its best to tie everything together, especially when it comes to our three central characters: Aang, Zuko, and Katara.

Just focusing on Aang and Zuko though, we have four primary parental figures: Monk Gyatso, Iroh, Ozai, and Ursa.

While we never got to see Aang’s parents, we know that Monk Gyatso was like a father to him. Zuko, on the other hand, had both his parents. However, while Aang grew up in a supportive environment, Zuko grew up in a much more hostile, and abusive one. Still, Zuko, like Aang, had family that loved and supported him. He had his mother, Ursa, and he had Iroh, his uncle and surrogate father.

Both Aang and Zuko lose their parental figures at one point or another. Aang, fearing separation from Gyatso, runs away. This leads to him being frozen and eventually having to deal with Gyatso’s death. In addition to losing Gyatso, however, Aang also loses his entire culture, thus adding another layer to his grief.

Zuko’s situation is a little more different. While he doesn’t lose his culture, Zuko loses three parental figures between his birth and the final season, as well as being exiled from his homeland. That said, the sort of loss Zuko goes through with each of his parental figures is very different.

The first parental figure that Zuko loses is his father. The difficulty here though is that because of the abuse Zuko endured, Zuko doesn’t quite realize this until the second half of the third season, and thus does everything he can to gain and maintain whatever love Zuko thinks Ozai has for him.

However, Zuko’s journey—in terms of his losing Ozai’s love—leads him to conclude that whatever love Ozai had for him (if he even loved him), doesn’t matter because he had other, better parental figures in his life. Furthermore, as Zuko himself mentions, winning his father’s love wasn’t worth losing sight of who he was.

This brings us to Ursa and Iroh.

The next parental figure Zuko loses is his mother, who was banished as part of a deal that would spare Zuko’s life. And, while we don’t see her much, we still see how she helped shape some of Zuko’s decisions (like him not giving up in “Zuko Alone,” and his ultimately staying true to himself by choosing to leave the Fire Nation).

Eventually, Zuko also loses Iroh (albeit temporarily) when he seemingly renounces his love for him so he can gain his father’s love. However, after this betrayal and his reunion with his father, Zuko soon realizes that it’s Iroh’s love, and not Ozai’s twisted idea of love, that matters most.

And, as mentioned in previous sections, both Aang and Zuko are forced to confront their loss. They deal with this loss in different ways but, they still need to lean to move on, even if they’re only partially able to do so.

That said, we see how both Aang and Zuko have trouble dealing with loss, and are often in denial of that loss. As the series progresses, we see how their inability to deal with their loss and their refusal to let go ties not only into their respective arcs but, also interacts with the themes of destiny and identity as well.

For example, Aang at first refuses to believe that the Air Nomads are actually dead. This leads to him discovering Monk Gyatso’s remains, and having to deal with the reality of the Air Nomad Genocide. Later, he sees what a group of Earth Kingdom refugees did to the Northern Air Temple, and he has to deal with that as well. Then, he deals with losing Appa, and we see how that affects him as the Gaang travels to Ba Sing Se. Finally, we see him having difficulty letting go of Katara, and later having to deal with losing in Ba Sing Se. As the series progresses, Aang learns how to move on, and to accept that he’s the last of his people.

Likewise, Zuko must deal with the loss of his father’s love. And, like Aang with the loss of his people, he tries to deny that his father doesn’t love him time and time again. Even when people like Zhao and Azula lay down the facts, Zuko refuses to accept that as reality, and instead persists in his belief that his father actually loves him. Eventually, after returning home, Zuko realizes that his father’s love doesn’t matter, and thus is able to break free and forge new connections.

And now, having talked about loss, we come to parts seven and eight of this meta, which are somewhat interconnected.

First, let’s start with good and evil.

Good and Evil

“They balance each other…push and pull…life and death…good and evil… yin…and yang.”

While it’s tempting to call Zuko the yin to Aang’s yang (or, even, his yAang…sorry), it’s important to remember that good and evil in Taoist tradition differs dramatically from how good and evil are perceived in Western tradition.

In Western tradition, good and evil are opposites and are at odds with each other. According to this tradition, evil is ofttimes associated with the male, while good is ofttimes associated with the female (technically though it can sometimes be more complex than that but, that’s a different discussion entirely). Here, passiveness and stoicness are associated with the male, while purity, virtue, and emotion are associated with the female.

Taoism, on the other hand, is very different. First and foremost, there is no ideology that distinguishes between good and evil or, vice and virtue like there is in Western traditions. What yin and yang actually describes is a philosophy whereby forces that appear to be contrary to each other are actually complementary and interconnected—thus, a perfect metaphor for the relationship between Aang and Zuko.

That said, there appears to be a misunderstanding when Westerners try to talk about yin and yang because, what often happens is that Westerners will assume that Taoist beliefs share the West’s dichotomy between light and dark, and good and evil. And, because the West views dark as bad and light as good, they will often assume that yin (the dark part of the yin yang symbol) is evil, while the light side (yang) is good. This is usually followed up by assuming that everything that the West holds true for good and evil (or light and dark), and what the West associates with good and evil applies to the Taoist tradition of yin and yang as well. For example, they might assume that yin is evil and associated with masculinity and passivity, while yang is good and associated with femininity and emotion.

This belief is very much false.

In the Taoist tradition, yin is associated with passivity and femininity, while yang is associated with aggression and masculinity. Of course, neither yin nor yang are mutually exclusive, and any individual can show traits that belong to either.

Therefore, according to Taoist tradition, it’s Aang—our pacifist monk—who’s yin because of his passive nature, while Zuko is yang. Aang—who usually relies on negative jin when he fights—is pull, while Zuko—who usually relies on positive jin when he fights—is push.

That brings us to part 8 of this meta: fighting styles.

Fighting Style

“Understanding others, the other elements, and the other nations will help you become whole.”

As I mentioned above, Aang starts out with a fighting style that overly emphasizes negative jin, while Zuko starts out with a fighting style that overly emphasizes positive jin. This simply means that Aang is constantly on the defense, while Zuko is constantly on the attack.

This soon changes, however, as both Aang and Zuko begin incorporating the opposite sort of jin into their fighting style. We see, for example, how Aang first starts to really use a more firebender style of fighting in Book 1, while Zuko adopts some aspects of the airbender style of fighting as well. Although neither of them really lets go of their accustomed fighting style in terms of offense and defense, both Aang and Zuko try to incorporate offensive and defensive forms into their fighting.

That said, we also see how both Zuko and Aang try to incorporate different modes of fighting into their own styles as well. For example, Aang uses the bending styles of the Four Nations with their own element (Northern Shaolin for firebending, Tai Chi for waterbending, Hung Gar for earthbending, and Ba Gua for airbending) but, he also allows those different fighting styles to influence his airbending style, whether it’s through waterbender style push and pull, an earthbender stance, or a firebending kick.

Likewise, Zuko too learns to incorporate different forms of fighting into his own style. He starts to be fluid like a waterbender, evasive like an airbender, and grounded like an earthbender,

Thus, we end up with multiple examples of Aang and Zuko allowing their native bending styles to be influenced by different bending techniques (here’s just one example that demonstrates Aang and Zuko using the bending style of each nation).

Furthermore, with the aid of Huu, Iroh, and Guru Pathik, both Aang and Zuko learn about the connections between the four elements and the Four Nations, as well as the benefit of learning from those around them regardless of their nationality.

It’s this connection, and use of different fighting styles, that we later see being displayed in “The Legend of Korra.” Only now our benders have gotten smarter, and maybe even more creative. As you may have seen me mention, by Korra’s time it’s not just as simple as “using x style with y element,” because Zuko and Aang helped shape a world where people are bending and fighting in new, unique ways that neither they nor Iroh could have anticipated.

Themes and Interactions

In the above section, we learned how there are many important themes at play in Aang and Zuko’s narratives, and that these themes help our characters grow as they go about their respective journeys. We also saw that these themes parallel each other in many different ways, and that Aang and Zuko’s reactions to the forces around them often shape the path that they eventually take.

We began by discussing Aang and Zuko’s upbringing, and saw that each character’s culture affected how they grew up, thus influencing their growth and the people they came to be at the start of the series.

Then we talked about destiny, identity, and scars We saw that both Aang and Zuko were faced with a great burden, and that Aang initially ran away from his destiny, while Zuko constantly tried to embrace his. We also saw a lot of push-and-pull factors at play here as well, and saw that Aang and Zuko’s response to their identities and destinies shaped a lot of their decisions.

Then we talked about mentors. Here, we saw that there were quite a few people that helped Aang and Zuko along their respective paths. This group mainly consisted of Iroh, Gyatso, Mai, and Katara. They helped Aang and Zuko move along their respective paths either by supporting them, giving them advice, trying to cheer them up, or by doing something else to help them along their journey.

Having talked about mentors, we came to the subject of loss, where we saw that both Aang and Zuko felt loss in different ways, and that many of Aang and Zuko’s decisions were centered around loss as well. We also saw that this loss had a huge impact on their decisions, and that both characters eventually had to come to accept the loss that they suffered and learn to move on.

Finally, we talked about fighting styles and saw how the philosophy of yin and yang applied to Aang and Zuko. Here, we saw that Zuko was the yang to Aang’s yin, and that this is a reflection of both their personalities, as well as their fighting style. Here, we saw how Aang was more passive and generally relied on negative jin, while Zuko was more aggressive and generally relied on positive jin.

We also saw that both Aang and Zuko learned about understanding different cultures and the teachings that came from those cultures. Related to this, we also saw that Aang and Zuko learned to incorporate the bending style of each of the Four Nations into their individual style, thus creating even more of a connect between the Avatar and Firelord.

Now, having finished talking about themes, we can finally begin talking about specific parallels between Aang and Zuko that happen season-by-season,

Let’s roll!

Parallels between Episodes

Before I get started, let me explain how this will work. I’ll go through each season in order, pointing out parallels along the way. However, to maintain continuity, and to ensure better organization (and because the payoff will be better by the time I get to Book 3), parallels that occur between two different episodes will be mentioned in the episode that’s closest to the finale.

Book 1

So, the plot of Book 1 is pretty straightforward. All our characters start out in and around the Southern Water Tribe when Aang is freed from his iceberg. This leads to all our main characters being introduced to each other, and Zuko chasing Aang as he travels to the North Pole so he and Katara can learn waterbending.

Along the way, we learn some of Aang and Zuko’s backstory, and we get to see a couple of nice parallels between them too.

The Boy in the Iceberg

Let’s start off in the very beginning, where we’re first introduced to Aang and Zuko.

“The Boy in the Iceberg” starts in the icy seas of the South Pole where we meet Katara and Sokka, two siblings from the Southern Water Tribe. They’re simply trying to catch themselves some dinner but, a series of events leads to them finding a boy trapped in ice.

This boy turns out to be Aang—a person who we later learn is the Avatar, which means that 1) he’s the bridge between the human world and the Spirit World, and 2) that he can master all four elements.

However, as Aang is freed from the ice, we see an immense amount of spiritual energy pouring out of it, which leads to our next character introduction.

The camera starts to move away from the giant energy beam and we eventually cut to Zuko, who we immediately learn is on the hunt for the Avatar. Concluding that the Avatar must have been the cause of the energy beam, Zuko sets a course toward the light.

And, after some more character introductions, some world building, and a series of events that lead to a flare being fired from an abandoned Fire Navy ship, the episode ends with Zuko tracking Aang back to Katara and Sokka’s village.

Here, aside from being introduced to our main cast, we get our first ever transition between Aang and Zuko. And, while it’s not all that impressive, it’s still a first for the Avatar and the Firelord.

That said, this episode is also important in that it sets up Aang and Zuko’s respective arcs for the rest of the series. It sets up Zuko as the frustrated banished prince who is constantly trying to regain his honor so he can return home and gain his father’s love, and it sets up Aang as this Avatar who was so burdened by the revelation that he was the Avatar that he ran away.

The Avatar Returns

This brings us to “The Avatar Returns,” which picks up where “The Boy in the Iceberg” left off.

After setting off the flare in the previous episode, Katara and Aang return to the village where they find an unfriendly welcome. The villagers, noticing the flare set off in the previous episode, fear that the Fire Nation will be on them at any moment, and thus banish Aang from their village.

Eventually, Zuko arrives and we see our first interaction between protagonist and deuteragonist as Aang and Zuko fight. However, after noticing that Zuko is unintentionally harming civilians with his fire, Aang offers himself up as a prisoner on the condition that the village be left alone.

After Zuko agrees and takes Aang prisoner, Sokka and Katara go after Aang and manage to catch up to him just as he’s about to escape, but not before he enters the Avatar state and waterbends at Zuko and his crew.

Here, there’s nothing really impressive parallel wise (—yet, just wait until we get to Book 3) but, episode 2 does introduce our main cast to each other. We continue to get introduced to Aang, Zuko, Katara, and Sokka, and we witness some more interactions between these four characters.

The Southern Air Temple

This brings us to “The Southern Air Temple,” which takes place immediately after “The Avatar Returns,” and is all about loss.

Let’s start with our A-plot. The A-plot of this episode features Aang, Katara, and Sokka visiting the Southern Air Temple, Aang’s home. Despite hearing about the war and the devastation caused by the Fire Nation, Aang is deep in denial, insisting that some of his people must have escaped the genocide. This changes, however, when Aang is forced to face the reality of the Air Nomad Genocide as well as the death of Monk Gyatso. And, unlike Zuko who we’ll see is still very much in denial of his loss, Aang begins to accept his loss, going so far as to conclude that the Fire Nation must have gotten to the other temples as well.

Now, having said that, we can focus on our B-plot, which follows Zuko and Iroh. We start off with Zuko and Iroh paying a visit to Zhao’s harbor in the hopes of repairing their damaged ship. Here, Zhao outright tells Zuko that his father doesn’t want him. But, Zuko being Zuko, denies this, and even goes so far as to challenge Zhao to a duel all because Zhao dared suggest that his father doesn’t love him. And, it’s in this state of tension where we get our first hint at Zuko’s past.

So, what can we say about Aang and Zuko at this point?

Well, we know that both characters have experienced some sort of loss. We don’t know the details about Aang’s being frozen or the details of Zuko’s banishment but, we know that both characters have experienced loss, and we know that that lose concerns a father figure in one way or another.

As the series continues, we’ll see both characters deal with this loss until finally coming into acceptance.

Winter Solstice

After “The Avatar Returns” and “The Warriors and Kyoshi,” “Winter Solstice” is the third (and fourth, since this is a two-part special) episode where we see Aang and Zuko butt heads.

In “Winter Solstice, Part 1,” Aang travels to a small village where he tries to stop a spirit from attacking it. Meanwhile, Zuko chases Aang but, he ultimately has to make a choice between hunting Aang and rescuing his uncle.

“Winter Solstice, Part 2” again finds Zuko chasing Aang, this time to the Fire Nation. Here, we see some more world building done as it’s revealed that Firelord Sozin used the Great Comet (now called Sozin’s Comet) to start the war, and that Ozai will use the next coming of the comet to end it.

Aside from a neat little parallel where Aang and Zuko finish each other’s sentences, we have a few things going on.

First, despite not knowing how, Aang decides to try and communicate with the spirits, and later tries to rescue Sokka from Hei Bai. Zuko, in the meantime, makes a choice between going after Appa, and saving his uncle from earthbending soldiers. He chooses to save his uncle.

Later, both Aang and Zuko make a dangerous trek into the Fire Nation. For Aang, the danger is obvious—he’s the Avatar, and of course it would be dangerous for him to go. In a similar vein, it’s dangerous for Zuko to go as well, since returning home would mean his death if he gets caught.

Thus, this episode shows us three things. First, it begins to show us that Aang is willing to step into his role as the Avatar, and that he’s willing to take the risks associated with his duty. Secondly, it shows us that not only is Zuko still in denial of his losing his father’s love but, that he’s willing to take immense risks in order to regain Ozai’s love also. And lastly, this episode is the first of many episodes to show the struggle between Zuko’s wanting to do what’s right, and wanting to do everything he can to win his father’s affections or to get a piece of home.

As the show progresses, we’ll see this struggle between right and wrong play out even more until Zuko finally changes sides.

The Waterbending Scroll

Next, we have “The Waterbending Scroll.”

In this episode, Aang and the Gaang come across some pirates and a waterbending scroll. After Katara steals the scroll, Aang and Katara try to learn from it. However, after Katara gets a little jealous of Aang’s bending and tries to learn from it in the dark of night, she gets captured by Zuko, and we see the consequences of Katara’s actions unfold as Zuko tries and fails to capture Aang.

I know I said I won’t focus on insignificant stuff but, I just like this camera framing parallel (plus, we have a nice shot of Katara and Iroh having their attention caught by something they find to their fancy).

The Storm

And now, having to gotten to “The Storm,” the fun can really begin.

We start out with Aang and Zuko reflecting on just how nice the weather is. One storm symbolizing the turmoil of their past, and one camera framing/transition parallel later, and Aang and Zuko’s backstories begin to unravel.

Here, we learn how the pain and pressure Aang and Zuko were put through affected their decisions, and the position they found themselves in at the start of the series. For example, Aang, fearing separation from Gyatso, runs away. Meanwhile, Zuko, wanting both to gain his father’s love and protect his people, speaks out of turn and is eventually burned and banished.

The episode ends with some really beautiful imagery as Aang looks at Zuko, and Zuko looks at Aang. We don’t know where their journeys will take them but, still we sense some sort of connection between these two characters.

We also again see that Aang finds it easier to move on than Zuko. After all, this episode was all about Aang and Zuko’s past, and their ability to move on from their past mistakes. And, as we had seen in “The Southern Air Temple,” Zuko is very much tied to his past.

The Blue Spirit

This brings us to “The Blue Spirit,” which takes place immediately after the events of “The Storm,” and again shows us the strong connection between Aang and Zuko.

So, Zhao is again on the hunt. He captures Aang. Zuko, fearing that his honor is at stake, goes to rescue Aang as the Blue Spirit (even if his intentions aren’t all that noble). This leads to Aang and Zuko working together for the first time ever.

After Zhao has Zuko shot with an arrow, Aang learns the identity of the Blue Spirit and decides to save him, which eventually leads to the most well-known foreshadowing moment in the entire franchise.

Seeking sanctuary in a forest, Aang tells Zuko about his friend, Kuzon, who we learn was from the Fire Nation. At the end of his anecdote, Aang wonders if he and Zuko could have been friends had their circumstances been different.

While Zuko answers Aang with an attack, we still get the sense that maybe, just maybe, Zuko considers Aang’s question as he looks off into the distance.

After Aang returns to his and the Gaang’s shelter, and after Zuko returns to his ship, a delirious Sokka asks Aang if he made any new friends. Aang, thinking only of Zuko, responds with “No, I don’t think they did.”

This leads us into a nice little transition between Aang and Zuko, as well as one final parallel as Zuko considers Aang’s question.

Siege of the North

“Siege of the North” is our big climax for Book 1. Here, we see The Northern Water Tribe prepare for battle against the Fire Nation fleet led by Admiral Zhao. Meanwhile, Aang tries to find a way to defeat Zhao and save the Northern Water Tribe from his assault.

While there’s not much to say about “The Siege of the North” in regard to Aang/Zuko parallels, we still have a moment where both Aang and Zuko try to save their enemies.

Aside from these events, we also hit our first major benchmark since the start of the series. Here, we see Aang beginning to accept his destiny as the Avatar and going into the world ready to be the hero that it needs. Meanwhile, Zuko is still shunned by his father and his people, and has hit a major obstacle after his quest to fulfill what he thinks his destiny comes to a halt.

Book 2

In Book 2, several things happen. First and foremost, Aang tries to find an earthbending teacher while Zuko and Iroh travel around the Earth Kingdom as fugitives. Next, we hit a turning point which involves both Aang and Zuko trying to make it to Ba Sing Se. As these two narratives play out, we encounter many parallels between Aang and Zuko.

The Avatar State

Like many Avatar episodes, “The Avatar State” features an A-plot focusing on Aang, and a B-plot focusing on Zuko. And, like some of these episodes, Aang and Zuko parallel each other.

We start off with General Fong and Azula giving Aang and Zuko a very tempting offer. General Fong offers to help Aang get into and master the Avatar state, while Azula seemingly offers Zuko a way home.

Despite being warned by Katara and Iroh, Aang and Zuko take the bait. Where Aang tries to back out of General Fong’s offer before being forced to fight (with a small parallel between him voicing his refusal to fight General Fong in “The Avatar State,” and Zuko refusing to fight Ozai in “The Storm”), Zuko is tricked by Azula, who was really trying to take Iroh and Zuko home as prisoners.

This leads to a couple of nice camera framing parallels between Aang and Zuko. And in the end, both Aang and Zuko realize that their mentors were right, and they continue with their journey.

With that said, this episode continues to do what “Siege of the North” already began to do. Regarding Aang, it puts him in a position to further embrace and continue with his destiny as the Avatar. With Zuko, it continues to make it difficult for him to embrace what he thinks his destiny is, and we see him continuously having to struggle with his circumstances from this point on.

Aside from that, “The Avatar State” continues to show us Zuko’s refusal to believe that his father doesn’t love him, which ties into both Zuko’s loss arc as well as his overall redemption arc.

Bitter Work

After a few more episodes of adventuring, and after Zuko runs into the Gaang in “The Chase,” we come to “Bitter Work.” This episode takes place right after the events of “The Chase” and, like “Winter Solstice” and “The Avatar State,” hosts a lot of parallels between Aang and Zuko within the episode.

“Bitter work” finds Aang trying to learn earthbending, while Zuko tries to learn lightningbending. Both these characters find themselves with a bending block. Aang has trouble with earthbending because it’s the opposite of air, and Zuko has trouble creating lightning because of his inner turmoil.

Eventually, Aang overcomes his block, while Zuko does not. And, despite learning lightning redirection, Zuko is still frustrated about his inability to lightningbend, which leads to a nice contrast between the endings of our A-plot and B-plot where Aang is proud of his accomplishments while Zuko is still upset.

Here, I would also like to note that not only does Iroh’s speech to Zuko parallel what Huu told Aang in “The Swamp” but, also that Iroh’s speech is followed up by Aang using an earthbending stance with airbending to deter a moose lion, thus demonstrating the practicality of combining the different bending styles.

The Serpent’s Pass

Eventually, we come to the “The Serpent’s Pass,” where Aang and Zuko almost meet as they try to get passage across Full Moon Bay. However, they ultimately don’t as Aang and the rest of his group choose to travel with a couple of refugees they met along the way.

Before we get into the Aang/Zuko parallels though, it would be worth noting that between “The Avatar State” and “The Library” we’ve seen Zuko become a fugitive of the Fire Nation, as well as Appa being stolen. These two events leave Aang and Zuko feeling rather hopeless. Iroh and Katara try to cheer them up but, Aang and Zuko refuse their comfort. Eventually though, both Aang and Zuko come around, and their respective journeys continue.

Furthermore, Aang losing Appa is tied into his loss arc due to the significance Appa has to him. Appa was Aang’s best friend and, just like with Katara’s necklace, Appa was a connection to Aang’s past and the people he lost.

Likewise, the whole idea that Zuko is feeling hopeless because he can’t return home also ties into his loss arc as well because, as I’ve already established: all Zuko wants to do is go back home and gain his father’s love and acceptance, something that he feels he’s lost and thus must store.

That said, we again see that Aang is more willing to try and move on and focus on the present instead of moping around, while Zuko continues to brood and long for his home.

City of Walls and Secrets

After everyone crosses Full Moon Bay, the Gaang, Zuko, and Iroh eventually make it to Ba Sing Se. Aside from Zuko struggling with the idea of having a new life in Ba Sing Se, and Aang trying to find Appa, we’re left with a rather striking contrast between Aang and Zuko.

Aang, the humble Air Nomad monk gets settled in the Upper Ring. Aang dislikes Ba Sing Se because of the contrast between how he was taught to live, and how those in the Ba Sing Se live.

Zuko, the Fire Nation prince, gets settled in the Lower Ring. He dislikes that, of course, because he’s a Fire Nation prince, and he’s being forced to live in poverty.

Lake Laogai

This brings us to “Lake Laogai.”

In this episode, Katara meets up with Jet who informs her and the Gaang that he can help them find Appa. Meanwhile, Zuko chances upon one of Aang’s wanted posters for Appa, which makes him want to go look for the giant bison so he can capture Aang, thus giving him another shot at going home and regaining his father’s love.

As the episode progresses, and the audience begins to think that the Gaang is getting close to finding Appa, we get a nice little camera framing parallel when it’s revealed that it’s Zuko who finds Appa, and not Aang.

This leads to Iroh confronting Zuko, and telling him just how much he’s letting his honor quest control him, and how much damage he’s doing to himself because of it. And Zuko, despite doing all he can to ignore his uncle, and telling him that he’s only doing what he has to, is eventually forced to face the facts and abandon his quest.

This ends with him setting Appa free, and allowing him to return to Aang.

Stepping back for a moment though, Zuko, finding himself at another obstacle where he’s forced to face to the futility of his quest, seemingly abandons his search to be who his uncle wants him to be. Meanwhile, Aang finds himself one step closer to meeting with and making an ally of the Earth King, thus bringing him closer to ending the war and fulfilling his destiny as the Avatar.

The Guru

"The Guru” finds Aang trying to master the Avatar state by opening his chakras, while Zuko seemingly lets go of his quest to begin a new life in Ba Sing Se. And, just like he did in “The Swamp,” and just like Zuko did in “Bitter Work,” Aang learns about the four elements and the four nations being connected.

The Crossroads of Destiny

This brings up to the Book 2 finale, “The Crossroads of Destiny,” where Aang and Zuko are forced to make a crucial decision.

Stepping back for a moment though, between “Lake Laogai” and “The Guru,” we’ve seen Aang and Zuko struggle with their choices. Aang struggles with whether he can or should let go of Katara to fulfill his destiny as the Avatar, and Zuko struggles with his identity and whether he can or should let go of whatever love he thinks his father has for him, and any love he has for his father.

In “The Guru,” Aang finds that he can’t let go of Katara who, like Appa, is a connection to his past (“The Air Nomads’ love for you has not left this world. It is still inside of your heart, and is reborn in the form of new love.”). Zuko, in contrast, has seemingly let go of his past as well as any love he had for Ozai, and vis versa. This dynamic gets reversed in “Crossroads,” as Aang lets go of Katara to achieve the Avatar state, while Zuko sides with Azula because he has a shot at gaining Ozai’s love.

Regarding other parallels, we start off with Zuko saying he’s tired of running (which parallels Aang telling Azula he’s not running in “The Chase”). Zuko gets captured, Iroh tries to help the Gaang stop Azula’s coup, and we eventually get to our big fight where Zuko, who is unable to let go of his old identity and his father’s love, sides with his sister.

Likewise, even though he was unable to give up Katara in “The Guru,” Aang eventually lets of Katara in the finale to achieve the Avatar state.

This leads to Aang getting shot down by lightning, and Zuko thinking he’s regained his honor, and doubting his decisions.

Book 3

Thus, we come to the third and final book of the series. Here, we really see Aang and Zuko’s parallels come full circle. Zuko starts to be a little more like Aang and finally, everything Avatar has been building up to comes to a head.

Here, we see both Aang and Zuko in and around the Fire Nation. Aang is in hiding, and Zuko is struggling with his decisions. Come “The Day of Black Sun,” things change, and while the Avatar and his friends suffer a loss, Zuko joins the Gaang, and they go on to defeat Firelord Ozai.

The Awakening

So, Book 3 starts, and immediately we have several things happening. First and foremost, Zuko is welcomed home as a hero and seemingly fulfills his destiny, while Aang is on the run. This is a bit of a twist on Books 1 and 2, where we saw Aang—the hero the world was waiting for—welcomed into the world and ready to fulfill his destiny, while Zuko was the fugitive. And, like Zuko in Book 2, Aang grows his hair out.

This episode itself starts with Aang on a ship, not unlike his counterpart in the very beginning of the series. Aang feels like he’s lost his honor, while Zuko thinks he’s found his. In these opening scenes, we’re also given two transition parallels which help to further establish the connection between Aang and Zuko.

Also, both Aang and Zuko are caught in a lie, with the world believing that 1) Aang is dead, and 2) that Zuko killed him.

Looking at only Zuko though, we see him parallel a lot of Aang’s earlier scenes.

For one, both Aang and Zuko desperately want to visit their home regardless of Iroh and Katara’s repeated warnings.

And, when they do return home, they realize just how much has changed since they left. After all, as Iroh said in “The Storm”: “Things will never be back to normal.”

The Headband

When we get to “The Headband,” Aang has accepted that he’ll just have to wait for the Day of Black Sun, and he’s feeling much more upbeat than before. Zuko, meanwhile, is still brooding, and trying to deal with the fact that Aang is alive.

This is clearly a reflection of how Aang has an easier time moving on. However, in this scenario, it’s not necessarily a bad thing for Zuko since it’s his fixation on his banishment that helps him realize just how messed up that whole thing was in the first place.

Anyway, to help solve his problems, Zuko visits Iroh but, Iroh turns his back on him and he’s forced to handle the situation by himself. This parallels a moment from “The Avatar State,” where Katara turns her back on Aang, and refuses to help him further his goals, just like Iroh does with Zuko.

On a lesser note, Mai and Zuko go on sunset date, while Katara and Aang share a dance at nightfall.

The Beach

“The Beach” has a pretty simple premise. The Gaang gets attacked by Combustion Man, who was sent after them by Zuko in “The Headband,” and Zuko goes on a forced vacation with the Fire Nation kids where we explore some of their backstories as well as Zuko’s problems.

While “The Beach” is mostly focused on Zuko’s narrative, we get a nice parallel with Aang in “The Storm” and Zuko in this episode expressing their anger in and around a campfire. However, while Aang’s anger is focused on his elders, Zuko’s anger is focused on himself.

We also get this parallel, which features Aang and Zuko burning relics of their past. And, while their reasons for doing so are very different, this parallel highlights an important contrast in regard to Aang and Zuko dealing with loss.

To elaborate, while Aang’s staff is a connection to his past, Aang has to let that go and, in contrast to other times where Aang had to move on from his past, Aang—even though he seems sad about having to let it go—still manages to do it.

Zuko, in contrast, acts like he’s letting go when he burns his old family portrait. But, in classic Zuko fashion, he can’t because he is still very much tied to his past.

Thus, we again see how Aang has an easier time moving on, while Zuko finds it much more difficult.

Finally, we also have a nice parallel between “The Beach” and “The Serpent’s Pass” with Ty Lee and Katara talking to Zuko and Aang about how they’re pretending not to care about Appa/their past, when really they do.

This again goes back to the theme of loss, and how we’ve seen Aang having an easier time moving on in compared to Zuko.

The Avatar and the Firelord

"The Avatar and the Firelord” is also pretty straightforward. However, just like with episodes like “The Storm” and “The Blue Spirit,” it’s very significant,

Here, we learn about Avatar Roku and Firelord Sozin, and how they went from being friends to enemies. Thus, this episode helps to both establish more backstory, as well as to connect Aang with Zuko even more. This connection becomes even more significant when we later learn that Roku was Zuko’s maternal great-grandfather.

The connection between Aang and Zuko in this episode is further aided by another sleep parallel, similar to what we saw in “The Blue Spirit,” as well as scene transitions parallels between Aang and Zuko, and Zuko and Roku, which help connect Zuko, Aang, and Avatar Roku.

That said, it’s also worth noting that while Aang and Zuko are destined to be unifiers (as I mentioned in the section on identity), Roku and Sozin too could have been unifiers. The problem, however, was that Sozin was an imperialist, and wanted to unify the world in all the wrong ways, with Roku by his side.

Thus, Aang and Zuko’s story isn’t just a reverse of Roku and Sozin’s story—it’s also a new beginning. But, it’s not just a new beginning for the world, it’s a new beginning for the Fire Nation, and the Avatar and the Firelord as well. Where Sozin wanted to unify the world through war, Aang and Zuko unify the world through peace.

Nightmares and Daydreams

“Nightmares and Daydreams” focuses on two things. First, it focuses on Aang stressing about the impending invasion. Second, it focuses on Zuko stressing about supposedly not being invited to a war meeting.

In addition to this, it’s also worth noting that Aang and Zuko’s moods are reversed between the start and the end of this episode. Aang starts out feeling stressed but, by the end of this episode, he’s feeling happy and content. Zuko, in contrast, starts off feeling happy and content but, eventually starts to feel stressed and ultimately conflicted having endured his father’s war meeting.

Getting to the parallels, just like Zuko’s fever dreams in “The Guru,” Zuko shows up in Aang’s stress dreams as well. Additionally, one of Aang’s dreams parallels something that actually happened.

And, aside from getting a camera framing parallel between Aang/Zuko and Katara/Mai, we also see a parallel between Zuko’s brooding here, and Aang’s brooding in Book 2.

Furthermore, just like how Aang refused to be comforted or helped by Katara in “The Serpent’s Pass,” Zuko too refuses to be comforted by Mai.

In the end though, both characters resolve their issues, and we move on from there.

Before we move on though, let’s again take a step back. By this point in the series, Aang is again taking a stand as the Avatar and embracing his role. Zuko, in contrast, has spent the last few episodes feeling extremely conflicted about his decisions. What follows from this point onward is Aang continuing to become a better Avatar, while Zuko embraces his true destiny as Aang’s firebending master.

The Day of Black Sun

“The Day of Black Sun” is our first big turning point in Book 3. While the Gaang falls into a trap set by Azula, Zuko confronts his father and eventually defects from the Fire Nation. But, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go over everything plot point by plot point.

It’s the Day of Black Sun, and Aang and Zuko are preparing themselves to face the day. Zuko plans to face his father and defect from the Fire Nation, and Aang plans to face Ozai and defeat him.

This brings us to two parallels. First, we have a parallel with Aang cutting his hair, and Zuko letting down his hair. This symbolizes Aang’s coming out of hiding, and Zuko’s defection from the Fire Nation.

Aang cutting his hair also parallels Zuko cutting his hair in “The Avatar State.” But, where Zuko’s gesture was him going into hiding, Aang’s is him coming out of hiding.

As the episode progresses, we see Zuko going to Mai’s house and saying he’s sorry before leaving her a break up letter. This parallels two things. First, it parallels Aang telling Katara he’s sorry before deciding to try and go into the Avatar state in “The Crossroads of Destiny.” Thus, just like Aang did in “Crossroads,” Zuko too lets go of love. However, Zuko isn’t just letting go of Mai, he’s also letting go of the idea that his father actuary loves him, and whatever love he had for his father as well.

Second, both Zuko’s letter, and the framing of his letter parallels Aang leaving a letter to Gyatso “The Storm,” saying he’s leaving. But, while Aang leaving Gyatso led to their permanent separation, Zuko leaving Mai led to their eventual reunion.

After that happens, Zuko returns to his room, and we see him talking to a portrait of his mother, saying that he’s going to take a stand and do what’s right to make up for his past mistakes. This parallels what Aang said in “Siege of the North” when he took a stand against the Fire Nation fleet attacking the Northern Water Tribe.

And finally, we have one last parallel with Aang and Zuko facing a door, and expressing their readiness to face Ozai.

Of course, as the Gaang later finds out, everything was just part of a trap created by Azula. Meanwhile, Zuko faces his father.

At the end of the day though, both Aang and Zuko make it out of the capital. The Gaang tries to make it out alive so they can fight another day, and Zuko finally embraces his true destiny.

The Western Air Temple

Thus, we come to “The Western Air Temple,” which features some nice examples of Aang and Zuko coming full circle.

We begin with the remnants of the fighting force from “The Day of Black Sun” making its way to the Western Air Temple. They’re followed by Zuko, who wishes to join Aang now that he’s left home.

When Zuko finally confronts the Gaang, we see lots of similarities between his facing them, and Aang’s return to Sokka and Katara’s village at the start of “The Avatar Returns.” This parallel features a nice camera framing parallel between Aang and Katara, as well as parallels between Sokka and Katara, and Toph and Katara. And, just like Aang before him, Zuko too offers himself up as a prisoner.

When this doesn’t work, Zuko returns to his shelter. Come nightfall, Toph, who at that point is the only one who sees the value of having Zuko as Aang’s firebending teacher, makes it over to Zuko’s camp. Zuko, not expecting visitors, accidentally burns Toph’s feet, paralleling Aang accidentally burning Katara’s hands in “The Deserter.”

This brings us to the moment that directly leads to Zuko becoming part of the Gaang. Zuko faces Combustion Man, and we get a really nice moment where Zuko fighting Combustion Man parallels Aang fighting Zuko in “The Crossroads of Destiny.”

After Combustion Man is defeated, Zuko meets up with the Gaang to explain himself again and apologize and, from this point on, Aang and Zuko are friends, and we see both characters moving toward embracing and fulfilling their destinies.

The Firebending Masters

With Aang and Zuko’s friendship secured, we come to “The Firebending Masters.”

This episode is pretty straightforward in terms of plots and parallels. But anyway, Zuko finally becomes Aang’s firebending teacher and, with neither of them being able to produce an actual flame, they visit the Sun Warriors. There, they learn firebending from the last dragons. This whole experience includes some nice camera framing parallels, as well as some toying around with the symbolism of the blue and red dragons (the blue dragon having been symbolic of Sozin’s line, and the red with Roku’s line).

Again, not too significant as far as Aang and Zuko’s overall arcs are concerned but, it’s still pretty important due to the Avatar and the Firelord embracing their true destinies and working toward peace.

The Ember Island Players

In “The Ember Island Players,” both Aang and Zuko take the play rather hard. For Aang, it has to do with his feelings for Katara. For Zuko, it was to do with how the play shoves all of Zuko’s mistakes in his face.

Here, we also get a moment where Aang’s clinginess toward Katara parallels Zuko’s clinginess towards Mai in “The Beach.” And, like Zuko before him, Aang too faces consequences for his actions.

Then, in the final moments of the play, the fact that the play has Azula and Ozai winning has Aang and Zuko doubting their eventual success.

Sozin’s Comet

And now we come to “Sozin’s Comet,” where everything the show has been building up to finally comes together. Here, Aang and Zuko help bring down Ozai and Azula, embracing their identities and destinies, and forging the world anew as leaders in their own right. And, where “The Day of Black Sun” saw Aang fighting Azula and Zuko confronting—and kind of fighting—Ozai, here, Zuko faces his sister and Aang finally faces the Firelord.

In terms of parallels though, we can start at the beginning.

In “Sozin’s Comet, Part 1,” the Gaang is convinced by Zuko to fight the Fire Nation during Sozin’s Comet, and Aang learns lightning redirection from Zuko (which parallels how he learned lightning redirection from Iroh back in “Bitter Work”).

Then, in “Sozin’s Comet, Part 2,” Zuko finally faces his uncle, and we get a nice little parallel with Aang mourning Gyatso, and Zuko crying as he begs for Iroh’s forgiveness. This ties into the whole theme of Aang and Zuko mourning their loss and past mistakes, and trying to move on. Also, Iroh gives us a nice little summery of Zuko’s arc which parallels Katara doing the same with Aang in “The Day of Black Sun.”

Then, in “Sozin’s Comet, Part 3,” when the battle between Aang and Ozai, and Zuko and Azula finally ensues, we get a parallel with Aang and Zuko catching, and redirecting lightning.

Unfortunately, things go wrong for Zuko and he doesn’t redirect Azula’s lightning quite right. This leads to him and Katara paralleling Aang and Katara in “The Crossroads of Destiny” almost frame for frame, and leads to Aang and Zuko having matching scars (both of which were given to them by Azula).

Moving onto Aang, his being brought low only to stand up to Ozai and fight him in “Sozin’s Comet, Part 4,” parallels Zuko being brought low by his father in “The Storm” only to confront him in “The Day of Black Sun.” And, just like Zuko before him, Aang initially refuses to fight Ozai, and Ozai considers him weak for doing so.

Furthermore, just like how Zhao thought Zuko was weak for not killing him in “The Southern Air Temple,” Ozai too thinks Aang is weak for refusing to kill him.

This brings us to our grand conclusion.

Aang’s question to Zuko in “The Blue Spirit” finally pays off with the Avatar and the Firelord finally being friends.

Speaking of the Avatar and Firelord, Aang and Zuko’s relationship is shown to be a reversal of Sozin and Roku’s relationship. Where Sozin and Roku began as friends only to become enemies, Zuko and Aang began as enemies only to become friends.

Their friendship leads to their ultimate victory, they take center stage as world leaders and heroes who have fulfilled their destinies, and we end with a nice little parallel with Zuko/Mai and Aang/Katara.

#aang #zuko #katara #iroh #atla mai #azula #ozai #atla #commentary #parallel #commentary: atla multiple #parallel: atla multiple #parallel: aang and zuko #commentary: aang #commentary: zuko #commentary: aang and zuko #themes #parallel: themes #commentary: themes

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aceprosecuties · 7 years

Note

38 BLACKMADHI YOU KNEW I WAS GONNA REQ SMTH

38. “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

-----

“You know, just because I’m here visiting doesn’t mean I need a tour of the whole damned country.”

Simon told himself over and over again while on the flight from LA to Khura’in that this trip was nothing but a waste of time. He was only going because Edgeworth-dono had requested it as a way to keep up a “good relationship” with Khura’in’s prosecutors. Edgeworth had been trying to make the office more international friendly, and Khura’in seemed - apparently - like the most obvious first choice.

When he told Simon to go, Simon’s first thought was of that damned monk, irritating and constantly popping into his head more than he would have liked. His second thought - which he verbalized to his boss - was the question of why he was being sent over Klavier.

“We need a good repertoire with the prosecutors, and Gavin will be...distracted, I fear,” Edgeworth had said, obviously referring to the fact that Klavier would have most likely wanted to spend more time with Justice than with Sahdmadhi. “Besides, he has a trial tomorrow.”

Simon couldn’t exactly refuse, so he reluctantly agreed, and was on a plane the next day to Khura’in.

Unfortunately, he neither slept nor ate while on it, feeling an unusually strange twisting in his stomach, which only seemed to get worse whenever he thought about the fact that he was going to be spending several days alone with Nahyuta Sahdmadhi, king-regent of Khura’in.

Rather than the obvious reason, he convinced himself that he was getting sick.

A royal escort greeted him; Nahyuta himself had come to retrieve Simon, smiling as he said his greetings. Simon was just annoyed looking at that face of his...and it apparently made him sick, considering how his stomach felt worse the moment he saw him.

He ignored the fact that Nahyuta looked...much more well-rested and happy than he did even since the last time Simon saw him. Was it possible for the man to look more beautiful?

How aggravating.

Simon said he wasn’t feeling up to getting lunch, so Nahyuta had begun to show him the city. Guards had apparently taken his luggage back to the palace, so the two prosecutors spent their time walking around and seeing the sights. Simon was feeling a bit lightheaded with the lack of food and sleep, but said nothing about it, instead making the comment about how he didn’t need a whole tour.

“It would be rude of me as a host to not show you these things, Prosecutor Blackquill,” Nahyuta said, still as self-righteous as ever. “Didn’t Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth want us to have a good relationship?”

That word made Simon’s stomach again tighten.

“Does that really mean I need to see everything? It’s been a long trip, Sad Monk.”

“I would say it is important that you at least know my country a little bit since you’re going to be working with us. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Simon wanted to be a smartass, but his sarcastic quip got caught in his throat when Nahyuta had turned his head to smile at him. Who the fuck allowed this man’s eyes to be so...green? It was just the worst thing in the goddamn world, and Simon just found himself nodding to make Nahyuta stop staring at him.

“There is but one more thing I would like for you to see before we should head back to the palace.”

Simon just followed Nahyuta...feeling more and more winded and dizzy with every step he took. He noted that they seemed to be climbing up...this country was surrounded by mountains, right? The air itself was thinner, and Simon felt himself having more and more difficulty catching his breath.

Not that he said anything about it. Couldn’t show any sort of weakness in front of Prosecutor Sad Monk, now could he?

They stopped at a large gate; the bazaar was currently empty, but Nahyuta began to explain that usually there were monks here praying to some spirit that was on top of the mountain...or something like that. Simon found his attention beginning to fade; he had been hoping that them stopping would mean that he would be able to recover but...the altitude was much higher than he was normally used to. Coupled with the lack of sleep and the lack of food, he found himself swaying a bit.

“S- Nahyuta-” He called out to his guide just as he found his consciousness slipping away.

Luckily, Nahyuta had turned just in time to catch Simon, holding him up as he called for the guards that had been in the area to help.

-----

When Simon woke up, he was in a very large and plush bed, which was in a lavish room that was only truly fit for royalty.

“Ah, you’re awake. That’s good.”

He turned his head, still feeling a little bit dizzy, to see Nahyuta sitting on a chair nearby. The monk stood, only to walk over to the bed and then sit down next to Simon. The proximity made that damned stomachache return.

“What...what happened?”

Nahyuta chuckled a bit. “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

Simon was unable to fight the bright red blush that then covered his face.

“That’s not- Stop making things up, Sad Monk!”

“You know, if you had taken my original offer to get a meal this might not have happened.”

Simon frowned and turned away. “I didn’t think at the time that we would be parading throughout your entire city and up and over mountains, you know.” He was exaggerating, of course, but that was how it had felt.

Again, Nahyuta laughed. It was a gorgeous and irritating noise.

Simon felt Nahyuta’s fingers below his chin, tilting his head back so that he was face to face with the monk...had he gotten closer?

“Well, you do need to eat, now more than ever. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask you a second time to join me for dinner?”

Simon’s stomach was going to be just in knots this entire trip, wasn’t it?

Regardless of that discomfort, he agreed.

#ace attorney #blackmadhi #simon blackquill #nahyuta sahdmadhi #simon x nahyuta #prosecuting boyfriends #blackmadhi asks #my writings #YOU KNOW I KNEW LOVIE 8)#also this isn't long I'm sorry #also simon had a crush but cant recognize it = my favorite pre-relationship blackmadhi trope #AS IF THAT WASN'T OBVIOUS #simon is just angry bc nahyuta is so gd pretty he can't handle it #I hope you like <333 :>#funeral-prosecutor #allie answers

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cfsculselfs · 7 years

Text

LET ME LOVE THE LONELY OUT OF YOU

( continued from x. )

WHO: Peter Parker and Raven Roth WHEN: 1-2 Weeks Ago, 2:00pm EST WHAT: In which a lonely boy and a war torn girl decide to let each other in ( they are nowhere near perfect, but they are e n o u g h ) aka spideyrae gets their shit together

@spideyroo

PETER:

to say the least, he’s exhausted. this whole BACK AND FORTH redundancy between the two of them isn’t beneficial on both parties, and they may as well quit before matters turn worse. there’s no valid explanation as to why his PERSISTENCE won’t shake, perhaps all of this will soon be worth it. there’s going to be a day where the awkward tension vanishes, and they can spend hours on end sharing conversations under the stars again.

peter wishes he can do something to help, anything. it’s evident that she’s holding back a plethora of hidden feelings, as if there’s a pair of hands SUFFOCATING her lips to suppress her true emotions. a half smile appears upon the compliment ———– that, he’s mentally saving forever, and the boy shakily reaches over. carefully, he places his hand over hers, PRAYING that it’ll have some sort of positive effect in this situation. his thumb lightly runs over the back of her hand in repetitive linear motions, with him not leaving sight of what’s in front.

his heart’s never beaten so fast. he’s never been so out of breath, anxious. “ i’m not asking for a lot, ” his vision strays away for a hot second from glancing down at the carpet, though keeps his hands put. and he’s right, he isn’t, he’s a SIMPLE SOUL. almost anything can make him happy, and he’s learned to appreciate what’s around rather than having the constant feeling of dissatisfaction. “ i just want things to go back to NORMAL between us. i want to tell you about my day, what episode of star wars i had a dream about during my nap, i want to tell you about how i stole captain america’s shield… even if you’ve heard that STUPID story five hundred times. ” a laugh. more of a chuckle, but it feels good to lighten up.

and he can understand where she’s coming from, if anything, he can relate. he’s been in her shoes before. there were many in his life whom he felt terrified of, not because of them, but because of who he was. INFERIOR. they deserved the world, not some below average guy who fails to be taken seriously in any situation. up until now with his alternate image as the friendly neighborhood spider-man, peter parker still manages to drive by the world as invisible. nothing special. it’s a sad reality he has to face, but he’s learned to deal.

so maybe they weren’t so different after all.

“ i can’t let go of someone who means THE WORLD to me, ” the confession rolls out of his tongue with pure ease. he’s not there to play games, only to tell the truth. he wishes he could grip her hand tighter to prove his seriousness, though he doesn’t want to push things further than what’s already on the table. throat dry and palms sweaty, he continues on. “ and i know your scared ———- jesus, i’m terrified too. but i’m sick and tired of convincing myself that i don’t DESERVE anyone because of how i am. i can’t feel this lonely anymore. not when i know that you make that go away. i need you ———— we need EACH OTHER and you can’t deny that. ” taking a forceful exhale, guilt begins to edge from his previous vent. he takes a moment to reset, hoping to pick up where it was left off with no hard feelings by sliding his fingers perfectly within the spaces between her fingers. they stop, and peter gives raven a look, if she’s comfortable enough for him to continue further. “ c — can i ?? ”

RAVEN:

He reaches out for her, and raven fights the urge to flinch. no one touches her, lest they face her fury ( koriand’r and dick are exceptions, people who have torn down her walls brick by brick until only pieces of clay and mortar remained. fools. her dearest friends. )

She does not receive such affection, does not d e s e r v e the reverence of his touch, the way his thumb ghosts over the back of her hand. As if she were something delicate and holy instead of barbed wire and broken glass.

“ You don’t know what you’re asking for. “ her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. She needs him to see how bad this will turn out. She needs for him to willingly walk away before she can cause any more damage ( just because she needs him to do so doesn’t mean she wants him to ) she’s so weak for him, it’s horrible. it’s wonderful. “ It’s too DANGEROUS. All I would do is hurt you. “

PRIDE. she is the original sin, she cannot reveal anything that would make her vulnerable to the judgement of those around her. her past, trigon. the monks of azarath, how she brought genocide upon her people because she got too curious. It would be BEST for her to mention it, he would finally listen to REASON if she did. But despite everything, she couldn’t bear for him to finally see her for the monster she actually is. He looks at her with such affection, with such sweetness. To see those features morph into fear or detachment would destroy her.

I can’t let go of someone who means the world to me. Her eyes S N A P to his: the words for a response don’t come, the emotions coursing through her veins unfamiliar. What was she even supposed to SAY to that ?? raven’s lips part, but whether or its a gasp of shock or a quest for the air that is having such difficulty reaching her lungs at present is uncertain. perhaps it’s the slightest bit of both.

“You deserve the world.”

“You deserve kindness and goodness and all things wonderful.”

“You deserve so much more than I could give you.”

But raven doesn’t S A Y any of this, despite the words dancing on the tip of her tongue. She can’t bring herself to. Not because he doesn’t deserve to hear all of it, but because some force is tightening its grip on her lungs, pushing down her voice until it’s caged to the bottom of her stomach and no amount of effort can draw it out. He’s right, though. To an extent.

Raven Roth has never NEEDED anyone in her life but god, she WANTS him so much.

His final question is hesitant, voice stuttering. her own heart SKIPS a beat. he’s trembling- or perhaps that’s her. she can’t tell who is feeling what, feelings filling the air of the room and merging into a single tidal wave, threatening to overtake them both. it’s overwhelming. Raven doesn’t answer- not with words, at least. She doesn’t trust her voice to work, doesn’t know what she even could say in such an instance. Instead, her fingers bend, pulling their palms together until they touch.

He is sweating: if raven hadn’t been an empath, if she hadn’t already been able to feel his nervousness radiating through the air and mingling with hers. If she wasn’t just as frightened, she would have laughed.

“I want you.” the words come out. It’s as if the dam has been broken, the words following swiftly, “ I want you more than I’ve wanted anyone else, But if you got hurt because I lost control, I would never forgive myself. ”

PETER:

peter knows she’s being genuine, but it doesn’t change the pain he feels letting those words engrave his mind as if it’s being slowly carved into his skin. she claims to be DANGEROUS for him, it stings rather terribly, but he honestly couldn’t care less. in fact, the rather tenacious boy is MORE THAN WILLING to take his chances for what its worth, if it means for him —– for them to be happy again. he’s gone through his fair share of trials and tribulations; there’s no harm in the risk.

“ i know you won’t mean it … hurting me, ” brown hues glimmer under the light, expressing pure sincerity. all he needs to do is convince her to take that leap of faith too. if anything, he HIMSELF will provide a sturdy support system if things go awry. he’ll be more than HAPPY to catch her when she falls helplessly to the floor, and will effortlessly do it again and again until she’s able to accept. even if it costs him his own stability.

so this is what it feels like. to care about someone at a level where in hurts, but in such a GOOD way.

one could say he’s a little selfish, but he’s craving for more. he’s craving for her. he can’t stop staring at the way her lips move, the way the light breeze in the room sweeps strands of her hair in a perfect manner. there’s no need for him to get ahead of himself though, so his mouth stays shut. the moment is savored, allowing for the two to sit in silence. no AIMLESS BICKERING back and forth, only these lost souls practically screaming for a sense of direction on where to go from here.

a beam of hope. and suddenly, amidst the darkness, peter feels it. perhaps it was the way their palms met, or the way their fingers begin to fully interlock, he DOESN’T feel so lost anymore. the void he previously suffered in his chest is filled, simply by these small yet MEANINGFUL gestures. the heat begins to place his ears, and he shyly feigns a bright smile, almost forgetting that she’s experiencing front row seats of a sweat show. starring eighteen-year-old peter parker —– also known as nervous wreck. CORRECTION: a now buoyant nervous wreck.

and the next few words that follow send him over the moon. she feels the same way, only TERRIFIED of the consequences alongside it. feelings are a puzzling concept, though from what he’s learned from his aunt may’s advice on the topic, they’re never going to get anywhere without taking action. she’s made her step, and now he needs to take his.

“ i want you too, ” he almost laughs, mainly because he still can’t process what’s happening between them as a part of their reality. he feels like he’s a part of some cheesy, poorly made romance movie, and this was the part where they DISCOVER their true feelings of infatuation towards one another. the part that is always sealed with some prolonged kiss, and they live happily from there. if only it wasn’t so complicated.

he forgets to ask permission due to the heat of the moment. slowly, and as STEADILY as he ever could with his trembling, he brings his free hand up to gently cup the side of her face. “ we gotta stop running away from what’s there, ” it’s almost in a whisper, though he makes sure she can EASILY hear by closing the distance between their faces. “ we can’t be scared, okay ?? i —– i like you, and even if i don’t know where the hell to go from here, it doesn’t change the fact that i do, raven. if we have to take things slow, we can do without a problem. i just want for there to be an US again. i can’t go another day without you. i really can’t. ”

RAVEN

“That doesn’t make it any better.” maybe she wants to cry ?? possibly laugh ?? she won’t do either, of course, but the range of emotions she’s experiencing at present is a roller coaster. he’s just so… there’s not even a word to describe peter parker: he doesn’t make ANY sense. he makes PERFECT sense. he’s the personification of confusion in that he’s not confusing in the slightest. he’s remarkably simple to understand, and in this world of heroes and monsters and clowns and fucking government-constructed robots, he’s an oasis, a calm in the storm.

his hand moves to her face, and raven finds her breath hitching, throat tightening as her mind attempts to figure out how on EARTH she’s supposed to be feeling right now. she does not read romance novels, she does not watch movies with romantic subplot aside from kori’s forced twilight marathons in their youth. what she’s supposed to say or do is lost in her, and it’s not FAIR to him. this entire situation is unfair to him, actually, and if she were a better person, raven would have rejected him and left.

but she’s horribly selfish, isn’t she.

“I…” god, he deserves so much better than her shitty attempts at feeling like a NORMAL human being. but he wants her. that’s such a c o n c e p t, another thing she’s not quite sure how to deal with. there is no catch, it’s just him. standing in front of her, his hand on her cheek. asking her to let him in, asking her to let him give her love. FUCK. her mouth opens again- she can’t keep it inside anymore, he needs to hear it. he deserves to, “ I don’t know where to go either. “ she confesses, looking down at their hands. the sight sends her heart fluttering into her throat, and it takes a beat before she can continue, “ But I want that too.” the words come out in a rush, as if they were the last bits of air from a balloon. are her hands shaking? they might be shaking( they are )

there’s a moment of silence: it’s good. she gets to take in the curl of his hair, how his eyes look when the sun shines through the window at 2pm. the sound of his breathing, the way he looks at her, how his hand feels pressed against her cheek. the urge to laugh bubbles up again- perhaps it’s the confusion, perhaps it’s disbelief at this situation, but she forces it down regardless.

“ I just…don’t.” a breath, “ I don’t know what taking it slow means.” her lip goes between her teeth, pressing until a sharp sting jolts her to continue, “ I would, though. I would…want to try. With you.” she fights the IMPULSE to apologize, face twisting in uncertainty and embarrassment. Her thumb slowly, softly runs across the back of his hand. she can FEEL the blood rushing in her veins- it’s dizzying. it’s a bit intoxicating, if she’s honest. he makes her feel as if she’s floating and falling at the same time.

There’s another beat, and she’s suddenly afraid she’s said the wrong thing. But the look on his f a c e. they are messy and young and confused, but the look on his face, the squeeze of their hands. it’s enough. it’s a beginning.

#oh my god the end is so cheesy but here yall are *FIREWORKS IN THE BACKGROUND*#it only took like #roughly five months and six hiatuses between us <3 #( spider man )

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nerdyskeleton · 7 years

Note

wow i wonder who this anon is wow omg wooww so secret omg, wow. XD anyway if i pay you will you write simon taking a bullet for nahyuta because i have to see your words telling that story.

*looks into the camera like she’s on the office because she just wrote Simon Blackquill getting shot for the second time* link on ao3

under the cut for dramatic length

Knowing he and Apollo fought tofind the truth always fills Nahyuta with righteous satisfaction. They walk out ofthe courtrooms together, and he immediately focuses on Simon, who stands talland dark and foreboding by the red columns flanking the grand doorway ofTehm’pul Temple. Rayfa rudely cuts in front of her older brother to move closerto Apollo. Though Taka rests on Simon’s shoulder, and Nahyuta is still ratherterrified of the bird, he reaches to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“That was far too short, Sad Monk,”Simon scolds. “You blatantly missed three very effective arguments.”

Apollo blanches and sighs, “No way,Prosecutor Blackquill, that lasted long enough.” His bangs droop as he rubs atthe indents the beads left on his forehead.

Rayfa joins in next to say, “Yutybarely fought Apollo on my insights!”

“You always complain of having torefine them if we argue too much. Besides, you skipped back to your seat next to Simon, Rayfa; you couldn’t waitfor the séance to be over.” The monk sticks out his tongue in response to herown.

They spend some time bickering likechildren, with Apollo trying to calm things down every once and a while.Nahyuta looks over briefly to see Simon scratching at Taka’s neck, yet shepulls away from him and squawks quietly. He gives her a look, like he’sdisappointed in her behavior or embarrassed by her rejection. He hides thelittle smile on his face and turns back to the conversation at hand.

Taka suddenly screeches deafeninglyloud and pushes off of Simon’s shoulder. Simon flinches at her movement,probably because she dug her talons into his arm; Nahyuta jumps a little,because he expects her to attack him. But Taka flies high into the air andcircles their little group before going higher. She shrieks; Simon visiblytenses next to him. Nahyuta looks to the sky to find her swooping down towardsthe roof of the temple. Simon’s eyes are following her every movement, andNahyuta chooses to watch him, now.

And very abruptly, Simon Blackquillshoves Nahyuta as hard as he can. The bang of a gunshot ricochets across thetemple walls. Taka cries once more.

Once he recovers from being tossedto the side, Nahyuta grips at himself, expecting pain to blossom somewhere.When it doesn’t come to him, he turns to Apollo and Rayfa, who both appearunscathed. Apollo drags the young girl out of the open. Nahyuta looks next tohis terrible panda boyfriend who pushed him…out of the way.

His stomach twists like a wringedneck as he steps around to face Simon, who has yet to move since the boomingshot. He grows ill and cold at the sight of his labored, wheezing breaths, andhis skin is certainly paler than normal. Nahyuta hates that he knows how badthis is already. Simon’s eyes lose focus, and they don’t gain it back atNahyuta’s command of his name.

“Simon? Are you hurt?” It’s astupid question – he knows it.

He surely has a lovely, sarcasticresponse for Nahyuta, but instead, Simon opens his mouth and all that comes outis blood. He coughs more and more, some of it splattering Nahyuta, but he needsto catch the man, as he’s collapsing like a tidal wave. Hot crimson stains hisclothes as Simon moans and shudders against him. Then he is still.

Nahyuta can’t say anything. Hecan’t make a sound. Nothing that he could say or do now would fix what has justhappened. He just stands there while supporting Simon and tries not to noticehow limp he’s come, how much blood he’s already lost. Is Simon literally goingto die in his arms? He’s absolutely a deadweight; he’s held Simon before, buthe’s never been this weak and limpand bleeding out. Precious seconds are ticking by. Why is he just standinghere?

The only time Nahyuta makes a soundis when guards suddenly seize him, and paramedics appear behind Simon. Theywrench them apart. The medics have trouble accommodating all of Simon’s deadweight, and the sight horrifies Nahyuta.

He calls his name weakly whilebeing manhandled and literally dragged away back into the temple, so he is nolonger out in the open and in anymore danger. A pitiful cry escapes his throat,though no tears fall from his eyes, as he catches glimpse of the medicssurround Simon. He is led down to the dreary basement of the temple, and Rayfahas already been secured in the little room. A guard forces him into a ricketychair next to his sister, and then they take their own seat by the door. Rayfais obviously staring at him.

Hours pass, and Nahyuta fills thetime with worse and worse scenarios of what could be happening. Forty-fiveminutes in, the fact that Simon is most likely dead and cold forms, and try asNahyuta might to force it away, it doesn’t go away.

He wants to do something, but heknows there’s nothing he could actually do. He’s not a surgeon, and he can’tfix Simon’s very real problem with a sardonic comment and a threat ofbanishment. Eventually he begins to pace the cramped room, but after two hours,he’s practically worn a trail in the floor. The heavy door swings open, and aguard beckons them both out. Two flank Rayfa, and Nahyuta is practicallysurrounded by burly people. As selfish and terrible as a thought it is, hewould much prefer one of these noble people sacrifice themselves instead ofSimon.

It is dark by the time they getback to the palace. Apollo stands just inside the gates, and he looks beyondexhausted.

“You want to get out of thoseclothes, and then we’ll go to the hospital?” he asks his older brother. Nahyutadoesn’t understand for a minute, but it suddenly clicks that Simon coughed up(what felt like) massive amounts of blood on him. He fingers at the stains,knowing that sort of thing happens with an injured lung or stomach. He can onlypicture what happened on the temple steps before he was mercilessly pulled awayfrom his panda.

“Is he dead?” He just needs to knowthat.

“Still in surgery. They are prettytightlipped,” Apollo explains, “but I think if you show up, they’ll tell youeverything.”

He could still die.

He waits until Rayfa is gone withsome guards before addressing another one with, “What happened to the assassin?”

The guard looks a little uneasy.“He was…mutilated. By Prosecutor Blackquill’s hawk. Pretty much tore his faceclean off.”

“Where is Taka?”

“No one knows.”

“What!” Nahyuta grows angry, but heknows it’s about the wrong thing. “You’ll find that bird even if it takes alldamn night, do you understand?”

“I-I was going to take you and Mr.Justice to-”

“No. You will find that terriblebird and bring her to Simon’s room. He needs someone there for him. I don’tcare if the doctors deny her – tell them it was a direct order from me.” Heexhales. The guard skitters off but not before giving a look to Apollo. Herests a hand on Nahyuta’s shoulder.

“Do you want to go see Blackquill?Amara said she would take things over while you’re there with him, until hewakes up.”

“Did you alert Athena?”

Apollo is clearly taken aback. “Uh,yeah. I called her a few hours ago. She told me she was going to bullyEdgeworth into getting her a jet. She’ll be here in the next few days.”

“I’ll have a place ready for herhere, unless you wish for her to stay with you.”

“I guess it’s up to her…Nahyuta,are you okay?”

He looks at the annoying goldenbracelet on his wrist. “Has anyone contacted Aura? I will, if no one has yetdone so.”

“How about you hold off on thatuntil you have more to tell her than just ‘Your brother’s been mortallywounded,’ okay? Do you not want tosee him?”

“You said yourself he was stillbeing operated on. N-No point in wasting my time.” He can’t sit idle while themedical team works to save his life. The image of Simon practically vomitingblood keeps flooding his mind, and there has to be something that can get it tostop. He knows sleep won’t help, and he knows that sitting in an uncomfortablechair in a hospital will only force his imagination to run wild. Therefore, theonly thing to be done is every thing.

“Nahyuta!” Apollo looks furious andperplexed with his older brother.

“What, Apollo! I am doing whatneeds to be done. If you are finally finished asking me the same inane question,I will call Simon’s sister to tell her what has happened. Please inform mymother, if you happen to see her, that I will carry on my duties as normal.”

Nahyuta storms away. If he is topossibly live a life without Simon Blackquill, he might as well begin preparingfor it now. Besides, there is no doubt in his mind that Simon will have nothingto do with him after this ordeal. Nahyuta had been too care free thisafternoon, and he let his guard down. Simon, pragmatic and alert as always, wasthe only one to react. He will surely hate Nahyuta for his inobservance and forletting this happen to him. Athena will hate him, too. Aura already dislikeshim, but this will not improve her opinion of Nahyuta at all.

Nahyuta shuts himself into hischambers and gathers his work together. He has some cases to go through, aswell as ensure the guilty party from the trial earlier today is punishedappropriately. He has some waiting to do before he is able to call the prisonAura is held in. He forces himself to complete some work until the prison canaccept his call.

Nahyuta calls the warden and waitspatiently for the buffoon to connect Aura. The conversation goes about as wellas Apollo claimed it would, as Nahyuta merely informs her of what little factshe knows.

She curses him out for an obsceneamount of time before finally screaming, “If you let my little brother die, Iwill break every royal bone in your body.”

“The doctors are doing all thatthey can, Aura.”

“I’m never forgiving you for this,you stupid monk. How could you let this happen?”

“I wasn’t aware of the danger.Simon pushed me out of the way before I properly understood what washappening.”

“Yes, because you’re never aware ofwhat is going on around you. What else do you know about him? Is he awake?”

“I have yet to hear anything.”

“Well, go and listen forsomething! He’s going to call me the second he can, and he’s going to get hisass back here. I don’t want him going over to your shitty kingdom again.”

“Yes, I’ve had the same thought,Aura.”

“Don’t patronize me!” she screamsinto the receiver. “I meant what I said! I’ll kill you, Sahdmadhi.”

“Athena will be here in the countryshortly.”

“Oh? You going to have her killed,too?”

“Aura, please.”

She hangs up. He swallows, feelinguneasy that someone else shares his same thought process. Simon should not comeback here to Khura’in. It is obviously dangerous, and Nahyuta cannot take thatchance. So, if by some miracle, Simon still isn’t dead, he will not see him again.

He works through the day andignores all visitors, including Apollo, who just comes by to see if he canforce food into Nahyuta’s stomach. He refuses to eat, and he still isn’tsleeping. The monk only recently changed out of his clothes from that day.

Amara finally forces her way intohis room to tell him that Athena has just landed in the country. Thankfully,his mother refrains from comments on his appearance, as it is surely ragged andunkempt. As he glides through the palace halls, Nahyuta tries to get his flathair up into something manageable. He’s just managed to force it into a bunwhen the main entrance swings open, and Apollo and Athena timidly cross thethreshold.

Athena approaches them both. Shelets her bag slip over her shoulder as she throws both arms around Nahyuta’sneck. He accepts the hug and tries to offer words of comfort to her, but she’spulling away and insisting she be taken to her best friend immediately.

Nahyuta realizes he has no ideawhere Simon is being held in the hospital, so he sends Apollo a pleading lookto take them there. Guards, obviously, follow close behind. No one in thehospital questions the trio when Apollo brushes past the people at the entrance.They ride the elevator up a few floors, stopping off on the seventh floor.

Nahyuta offers to take Athena’s bagand return it to her room at the palace, since she brought it along with herfor some reason. She tells him not to worry about it, and his heart sinks.

“Have you talked to him?” she asksNahyuta.

“He’s…been asleep every time I havecome by.” Unfortunately, both immediately detect his lie. Apollo rubs at hisbracelet, and Athena’s brows draw together at that statement. She must detect therelief in his heart at that statement. And also the fact that’s a blatant lie,since he hasn’t been by.

It’s obvious where Simon isresting, since there’s another damn guard outside the other rooms in the hall.He eyes Athena but steps aside immediately when he sees Nahyuta is accompanyingthem.

“You go in and see him, Athena,” hesays, tugging at the bag on her shoulder. “I’ll speak with someone aboutgetting rid of this for you.”

“Nahyuta, it’s really okay. Justcome inside and sit. If he’s not awake, I want to talk about what happened withyou.”

He inhales, and Athena’s pushingopen the gray door before he can truly prepare himself for what’s inside. Apollodrags him inside, as Athena’s preoccupied with plopping right down on the bedand squeezing at Simon’s hand.

He’s got an IV in the crook ofelbow, which surely provides a cocktail of pain medication and nourishment forhim. Tubes run in and out of him, with one thick one protruding from his mouth.Practically the only indication that he is alive is the incessant beeping ofthe heart monitor, because his chest barely rises and falls with his breathing.They have him propped up just slightly, but the pillows behind his back areslowly slipping downwards, and he absolutely cannot be comfortable like that. Nahyutadesperately wants to throw everyone from the room and wish away the pain or putit upon himself and gather all of Simon Blackquill into his arms and cradle himclose; he wants Simon back, and he wants him to be healthy and to live the lifehe deserves, which is far, far away from himself and brings no more pain orsacrifice.

Nahyuta has barely felt anythingthe past few days, but he suddenly has trouble holding back tears. Oh god, notnow. Apollo is watching him carefully as he backs away and eases himself intothe chair by the door. There’s an empty chair on the other side of the bed,which the monk absolutely refuses to sit in, despite Athena’s insistence.

Yet not wanting to be idle, hewanders over to the shut curtains and wrenches them open to get some sunlightin here. However, Taka is perched on the branches just outside the window, andshe screams and pecks at the window. Nahyuta shouts in surprise, takencompletely off guard in his overly exhausted state.

“Let her in!” Athena demands.

Apollo interjects, “I tried to lether in, but the hospital doesn’t want her here!”

Nahyuta no longer cares about thebird complaining at him through the window. He’s hyper focused on thefluttering of Simon’s eyelids and the quickening beeping of the monitor. Theymust have made too much noise for the poor man to sleep peacefully. Athenanotices it immediately, too, and she’s grasping his hand tightly. Nahyuta isglad that he’s standing so far away from the bed, since he knows without adoubt he would not be able to handle looking him directly in the eyes.

“Hey friend,” Athena whispers. “Youhave a giant tube sticking out of your mouth, so don’t try to talk, okay?”There’s a pause and then she asks, “How are you? Oh wait – never mind.”

Nahyuta turns away to give Taka hisbest apologetic smile, but she hates everything about him and is also a hawk,so it does not do too much. While he’s facing the other direction, he hearsAthena laugh; perhaps Simon rolled his eyes at her question.

“I’m glad you’re okay. At least,you look pretty good, all things considered. Apollo told me where the guy gotyou. That must have been terrible.”

Nahyuta can’t stand here and listento this. He tears open the window to let Taka swoop in, and then he’s movingquickly to get the hell out of there. Athena shouts his name, and Apollo evenstands up to bar him from leaving.

“Nahyuta! Where are you going?”

Apollo spins him to face the two.

“I have things to take care of.” Heensures that he looks directly at Athena. Slowly yet unexpectedly, Simon’sother hand reaches up to paw at the tube stuck in his throat. He tugs justslightly, but Athena scolds him and puts his hand in his lap.

“It sucks that you can’t talk, Iknow, but,” she says, yet Nahyuta does not hear the rest of it, because he isout the door and down the hallway before Apollo can snatch him.

A few hours later, Athena findshim. She is not happy with him. Apparently, Simon is not either.

“I can’t believe you’re being so selfishabout this, Nahyuta,” Athena says calmly, yet with a hint of very real anger inher voice. The little thing around her neck flashes red.

“Pardon me?”

She shuts the folder he’s beencompiling all evening and grounds out, “Simon’s seriously regretting this wholesaving your dumb life business.”

“Oh? He told you that?” he askedsarcastically.

“Yes, because he was so furious with you for running away earlierthat he wouldn’t stop pulling on that tube. The doctor had to come in and takeit out for him so he didn’t injure himself. Any more than he already has,thanks to you.”

Those words hit hard. He knows thatSimon’s just barely escaped death because of him, and it is one of the worstthoughts he’s ever had. It’s been many months since Nahyuta has felt thishelpless and powerless, but the feeling is disgustingly familiar, and it needsto go away before he breaks down.

“You blame yourself, don’t you?”she asks. Her voice is so much softer this time. “Simon thinks you do, atleast. He knows you really well, and I like to think I know you well enough atthis point.” She leans against the desk he is working at.

“Of course…not.” He’s never beenmore upset with himself. His actions lately have been childish and desperate,and he hopes things are not ruined between him and Simon. After running fromhim, he tried to think of anything, something that he could say to explainhimself and to tell Simon how sorry he is for letting this happen. No words inEnglish or Khura’inese were adequate enough.

Athena sighs. “Well, whether or notyou do, you need to speak with Simon.”

“Yes, I am well aware.”

“When are you doing to do it?”

“Whenever he’s awake. I can’t forcea conversation with him if he’s asleep, of course.”

“You saw how easy he woke up thisafternoon. Let’s go tomorrow, so that he can get some sleep and calm down fromhow angry he is with you. Work the rest of the night to distract yourself andcome up with a good enough apology for my best friend, while you’re at it. I’llcall Aura, too, since I heard from Apollo it went very badly for you.” Shepushes herself away and leaves the room without another word.

Still, words escape Nahyuta. Hedoes not sleep again for the third night in a row and has taken to simplyliving off of twenty minute naps whenever he cannot handle staying awakeanymore. It is difficult to describe his feelings and thought processes in thiswhole ordeal, especially when Nahyuta has trouble discerning where the thoughtscame from in the first place. How can he defend himself in front of hissacrificial prosecutor? If Simon is truly so angry with him, perhaps there isno use in arguing and explaining.

For once, Nahyuta is thankful forthe bureaucracy of his position, which requires him to be at the Dance ofDevotion in the morning with Rayfa. Though he spies Athena in the audience,looking sour. Taka rests on her shoulder. They must be keeping watchful eyes onhim to ensure that Nahyuta gets to that damn hospital room to see his damn Simon.

The ceremony is over shortly.Nahyuta often takes his time exiting the temple, but Athena has other planswhen she charges up to him and drags him through the crowds. The throngs ofpeople surely part for this angry red-head and her angrier looking hawk and notfor their king-regent. They enter the main doors of the hospital and are thisclose to making it into an elevator when obscenely pregnant woman stops them.She asks him to bless her with the strength of the Holy Mother.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Athena cuts in,“but Prosecutor Sahdmadhi has his own guests to attend to.”

As close as they are and as much asAthena enjoys teasing him, Nahyuta gives her a stern look and says, “I willjoin you upstairs shortly.” She is not pleased but goes anyway. This givesNahyuta just one last chance to appear collected and calm in front of Simon. Hecan gather his thoughts as he prays over this woman.

When that is done and he sends thewoman off to her infantile doom, an old man taps him on the shoulder andrequests the same thing for him. He is blessed, as well, and Nahyuta is able tomake his escape after. The ride up to the elevator is terrifying, and he feelslike the rest of the people can hear how fast his heart is beating inanticipation.

He finds the tiny room and reachesto knock, but he holds off. The door is shut, so this must mean that he andAthena are having an important conversation. He would not wish to disturb that.Until a nurse wanders up and does that for him.

“Prosecutor Sahdmadhi, sir!” sheshouts. “This is a surprise! We’ve been wondering when you were going to comeback. You left in rather a hurry yesterday.”

“Yes, I had other concerns toattend to.”

“Of course you did.” He cannot tellif she’s being serious or not. “You can go in there any time you like, sir. Hisfriend just went in to see him a few minutes ago.”

“Yes, I wonder if you might knockfor me? I don’t wish to disturb them if they are discussing something dire. Youknow.”

It’s a flimsy excuse, and he feelslike a coward, but he can’t face angry Simon Blackquill and Athena Cykes. Notlooking and feeling so weak and tired and afraid like this. It doesn’t look asif the nurse knows what he means with “you know,” but she does as she’s told.

She pokes her head into the roomand says in a saccharine tone, “There’s a royalvisitor out-”

“Nahyuta,” Simon barks. It makes both him and the nurse jump, so sheis scurrying away as fast as her legs can take her. Despite the angry tone, heis so glad to get to hear Simon’s voice again. Before the heavy door shuts,Nahyuta grips the handle and shuts himself inside the room. Athena is back inher spot on the bed, with Taka resting at the foot of the creaky mattress Simonhas been living on. The man himself sits mostly reclined still, but his eyesare more alert, and he has some semblance of color in his cheeks. Athena isstill clutching at his hand tightly, though his other one clearly works verywell when he points menacingly to the chair on the other side of the bed. Nahyutafollows the silent instruction and sits.

It is very quiet until Athena says,“I just told him how much Taka loves Her Mercifulness.”

“Yes, she is the second favorite toyou…Simon.” For some reason, saying his name is incredibly difficult. “Rayfaoften jokes Mother prefers Taka over me.”

“I do, as well.”

He swallows, familiar annoyanceblooming in his chest. So glad Simonis not holding his tongue back. Athena tries to hide her surprised laughter,but it’s hard for her. She does love making fun of them both.

When she recovers, she actuallystands and announces, “I’m going to get up and go for a run. Maybe call Aurawhile I’m out, too. I heard she reallyyelled at the sad monk, Simon.”

“I can imagine she did. He mostlikely deserved it, too.” She squeezes his hand one last time before leavingthe room. Simon adjusts himself and settles as comfortably as he is able intothe pillows. His eyes are shut, until they open a moment later and starestraight at Nahyuta.

“Hello,” Simon says.

“Good morning.”

“You’ve been selfishly absent as oflate, Sad Monk. Why is that?”

“I have been busy. I was not ableto halt everything so that I might sit by your bedside until you wake up. Andin any case, I have been taking time alone to reflect on what has happened.”

“Ah, yes, and what have you come upwith?” He lets a hand fall, palm faced upwards, so that Nahyuta might hold ontoit like Athena was. Nahyuta does not, though, and he sits back in hisuncomfortable chair.

“This is a dangerous kingdom, and Iam a powerful, important individual here. Perhaps it would be best if we removedthis danger from your life.”

The heart monitor speeds upfractionally, but Simon ignores it to say, “If I may repeat in simpler terms,Nahyuta?”

“Of course.”

“I take a bullet for you, and youare attempting to end our relationship in the first moments we have alonetogether?”

“It needs to be done quickly.”

“I argue it does not need to bedone at all.” The monitor beeps louder. “Is this truly what you want, Nahyuta?”

“You must be kept safe, Simon, andthat is not happening here.”

“Perhaps I will never return toKhura’in, then, and you will come to Los Angeles each time we wish to see eachother.”

“No, I want you to be safe,” herepeats, “and you cannot do that near me. I must be far away from you.”

“And what will happen when you, inthis outlandishly dangerous countryof yours, are struck and killed? You die, and I am left in a world without you?Which, to be entirely honest, must be much simpler and less stubborn.”

“Do not manipulate me so you comeout on top of this conversation, Simon Blackquill. I have made my decision.”

“Mine is of no importance?”

“Not when lives are on the line.Not when yours is, and I am able todo something to protect it. I spent so long powerless, with no ability to makemy own choices and save those who needed to be saved. I have this power, and Iwill exercise it.”

“Christ, not this again.”

Nahyuta rises from the chair, hisanger rising, too. “Simon,” he starts, but the man cuts him off.

“If this is your entire agenda forthe day, you may leave,” he grinds out. “I am exhausted and am in no mood todeal with your pretentious, delusional beliefs. Is this all you had to say tome?”

Of all the nerve! After hearing howfurious Simon supposedly was with him for running out yesterday, and this ishow Nahyuta is treated. His anger spikes, and he removes his prayer beads infrustration and fury. Simon laughs at that, giving him an infuriating and alltoo familiar smirk. He hates that look on his face, and he hates that Simon hasthe audacity to laugh at him like this.

“I promised there would be no moredeaths at my hands, Simon. Your death will not be one of them!” Simon is notsmiling anymore. “I have too many deaths weighing on my shoulders, and I willbe unable to carry yours as well! I know I could not live the rest of my lifeknowing you were dead because of me. Ican barely stomach the hundreds of others whose deaths I have already caused.”

He throws the beads at Simon, whichis probably not the best idea, considering his rather fragile state. Theythankfully pelt him in the chest, where he is unharmed.

“You speak to me now as if I amsome goddamn moron, but you were the one who made yourself a sullen target inmy place! What is more reckless and ill thought out?”

“I know there was no thought putinto it, Nahyuta. I jumped quickly to save you.”

“At your own expense, Simon! God,do you have no ingrained need for self-preservation?”

“Do you recall when I went to prisonfor seven years for Athena?”

“This is entirely different.”

“Oh, is it? You just spoke of yoursacrifices, so am I not to ignore my own? You act surprised that I have donethis for you, meaning you have completely forgotten about the things I did forAthena.”

“That circumstance is different,Simon, dammit!”

“How?”

“It is! It is!” Nahyuta is losingcontrol, and he will snap any moment now. “She was not aware what you weredoing for her. I have been too fully aware of the sacrifices you have made forme that have landed you where are you.”

“Nahyuta,” Simon snaps, “explain tome how you have any right to be angry with me for letting you live.”

“You’re not understanding what I’msaying,” Nahyuta answers unhelpfully, feeling a hysterical laugh form in histhroat. “I cannot talk to you right now.” He snatches his rosary up and turnsto leave, but Simon shouts his name. The monk turns to him, exasperated and onthe verge of tears, though the feelings disappear as he watches Simon struggleto sit up. His mouth opens in a silent grunt of pain, so he falls back heavilyagainst the pillows.

This does it for Nahyuta, whopractically stumbles over his own feet to push him deeper in the pillows. Theystare at each other for a moment, and Nahyuta knows his eyes are watering as helooks at Simon so up close and personal for the first time in days. He recallsthe dead look in his eyes when he collapsed into his arms.

“If you’re going to cry, then cry.”

In a flat second, Nahyuta setshimself down on the bed and lets himself sob. In between heaving breaths, hesays, “You can’t be hurt because of me, god, Simon, I can’t let it happen.”

Simon sighs and reaches to pullaway Nahyuta’s hands from his face. He tugs harder on the hands and getsNahyuta to move forward just slightly, so that Simon wraps him in a hug. If ithurts him, he makes no indication of this. Nahyuta is not sure how long theystay like this, but it has to be for quite a long while. When he pulls away,Simon whispers, “God, you’re an ugly crier.”

“I know,” he wheezes.

“Do you feel better?”

“I want you to come back to Khura’inafter this,” Nahyuta blurts out.

“I know – there was never adifferent plan. I was never going to listen to that nonsense, Nahyuta.” Hebrushes his bangs away. “And I cannot make guarantees that I will remainunscathed, just as you cannot make the same promise to me, despite how much Iwould wish you to. Nahyuta,” he states, “I would face this pain ten times overagain if it meant you were unharmed.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I would. And I can’t have youdoubting our love and loyalty for each other when I say this.”

“I never doubted it; I don’t doubt it, currently.” He rubs athis wet eyes. “I hate that I caused you pain.”

“Have I ever told you how trulypainful and hellish being in love with you really is?” Nahyuta bursts out laughing,not expecting the comment. Simon continues, “Yet if I did not think yourstubborn, terrible self and the agony that you bring upon me is not worth this,I would be gone already.”

“I know.”

Simon smiles. “Are you over thisridiculousness now, Nahyuta? Or would you like me stabbed, so you can delivermore bad news?”

“The pain you bring upon me might not be worth it,” he snaps, yet he isunable to keep from smiling softly. Simon does not answer that comment, and heinstead wordlessly gets Nahyuta to lay next to him. His inked hand strokesthrough Simon’s tangled hair, soothingly and gently.

“Will you tell me in detail howpoorly your conversation with my elder sister went?”

“Just so you may laugh at me?”

“Yes.” Simon laughs.

Nahyuta sighs, but he’s never lovedthat laugh more.

#asks #ace attorney #blackmadhi #simon blackquill #nahyuta sahdmadhi #writing #this is my fourth assassination prompt I love it #how dare you make me write this fame #HOW DARE #Anonymous

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clint-n-friends · 7 years

Text

Chapter 2

The sun begins to rise as Clint walks up the road to the largest building in town. The once quiet street is starting to begin it’s chatter of locals socializing and marketplaces setting up shop for the day. Clint gets stopped in his tracks by a little girl being chased by a boy. She runs into his shin, falling on her butt, and dropping the doll she was attempting to keep the boy from stealing. Clint looks down at her, seeing the embarrassment on her face.

“Sorry, sir,” she apologizes timidly. The boy behind her had stopped also, intimidated by Clint’s large stature. Clint simply picks up the doll, and hands it to her without saying a word, and the children return to their play.

Flashbacks of playing with the little girl from near his town flood into his head. Clint remembers the time of his childhood, or at least the little childhood he was allowed to have. Fond memories of pretending sticks are swords, sparring with Kent. The frustration of losing chess, his favorite game. How suddenly everything had to change.

He shakes it off and continues up the road as he approaches the monastery. Monks were a relatively new idea in Enquor. Adopted from the far east, men devoted their lives to religious practice and peace. Clint was never much into religion, but understood the idea of monks well enough. He had never encountered the kind before. No one really had. They stayed secluded from everyone, busy with book writing and printing, religious sermons, and their secret martial arts. This monastery was the first of it’s kind in Enquor. Made only 75 years ago, it is still debated if it was really necessary to the city. However, many towns since seeked to build some of their own to increase respect and popularity.

Clint arrives at the steps of the monastery. He peers up at the magnificent building. Looking up the stairs, the monastery doesn’t exactly have an entrance. Mostly open with columns holding up a roof, there isn’t so much one building as there is a breezeway connecting many different wings. Glancing around at the bustling crowd, the monks span anywhere between extremely serious servants who have shaved their heads to show their devotion, to long haired nuts who can’t keep their hygiene up with the amount of religious practice they endure everyday. This is quite different than Clint imagined, but again, he didn’t know exactly what to expect.

As he stands there observing the scene, an old monk with red robes walks up to Clint. “Oh, are you here for the job?”

“Yeah, how did you know?” Clint notices this man's robes are a different color than the normal orange robes most everyone else wears.

“Well, we don’t get many visitors. Not to mention tourists aren’t usually armed to the teeth,” the man replies as Clint looks at his own beefy armor and giant greatsword strapped to his back. “Well, you’ll want to speak to the head council. This way.”

The man leads Clint through the maze of breezeways and arrives at the largest wing of the monastery. They enter into the main building. As they are doing so a new monk with yellow robes comes up and says “welcome to the capitol.”

“The Capitol?” Clint questions, looking around at the large room he is in. “I thought the whole city was the capitol.”

“Well yes, Sedenstire is the capitol of Enquor, but here we live completely secluded from the rest the of city. We like to think of ourselves as our own town. We are completely self sustained with wheat, barley, potato, carrot, and even peanut farms. We have our own quarry and devoted monks mine, build, farm, and do any of the work necessary. With the forest right next to us, we can easily obtain wood for any other construction needs we have. If we need any more dorms, extra kitchens, or a new shrine, it’s all right here for us. Any excess materials we have, we put away in our storage unit. Sedenstire is the perfect place for our monastery.” The head monk seems very proud about his achievements here.

“What about meat?” Clint questions

“Oh, we are devoted vegetarians,” The monk replies.

“Don’t you need protein?”

“We enjoy peanuts with every meal. That has provided enough protein for us all this time.”

“Well then,” Clint implies his falling interest in this.

“Where are my manners?” the monk flusters. “My name is Algo Aletoro.”

Clint gives him a skeptical look. “Clint Brixton, I was just here for the job.” He says bluntly.

“Of course, right this way.” Algo leads him into a room with 7 large seats at the front facing rows of seats. It reminds Clint of a courtroom. 6 monks, all in red robes, sit in the seats to the side. Algo takes his spot in the center of them, seated the highest. Clint stood there confused, feeling like he is being put on trial.

The monks converse with each other back and forth between themselves. Clint has never seen anything like this when taking a job. He stands there dumbfounded as this plays out. “So… Do I need to leave or-”

“We have decided to trust you.” Algo stands.

“Oh gee, what an hono-”

“We have been getting attacked,” Algo continues on. “In order to make this monastery, let's just say sacrifices had to be made. Much of the land we take in order to operate functionally belonged to a nearby tribe that has lived here for many generations. We didn’t tear down any houses or farms, just took unused land. They haven’t exactly been happy with these changes. Haven’t been diplomatic about it either. We have endured constant attacks and vandalism due to this outrage of theirs. Many ancient and sacred pottery, statues, and tomes have been destroyed due to their endeavours. We need you to put an end to this. Diplomatically or otherwise.”

Clint questioned for a second whether this was ethical or not, but they were paying him and it’s not like he really cares much about any of this anyway. He determines he will try to do this diplomatically, didn't want any more on his conscience. “I accept,” he decides.

“Excellent,” Algo proclaims.

Clint turns to leave, happy to get out of this uncomfortable situation. Algo laughs.

“Do you even know where to go?”

“Uh… The forest?” Clint begins to realize.

“We will assign you a servant to accompany you in the forest and help with directions.” Algo turns to the monk on his side, whispering “where is the monk to be assigned to him?”

“We can’t afford losing anyone for any amount of time due to the drought,” the other monk replies.

“Damn,” Algo proclaims, “fine, assign him Sanry,” he sighs.

“As you wish,” the monk quietly exits the building. Watching the monk leave Clint realizes he will need to wait a bit longer and finally decides to sit down in an audience seat. A few minutes later, the monk returns, being followed by another monk in brown robes. He hadn’t seen anyone in brown robes before. Algo seemed to be the leader and he wore yellow robes, what seemed to be the council wore red robes, and all the regular monks wore orange robes. He hadn’t seen anyone else who wore brown robes. As the man approaches him, Clint squares up to him. Observing him closer, the monk was somewhere between 18 and 20 years old, around 5’10”, skinny with little muscle mass, sandy blonde hair, and blue eyes. He saw a wrinkle in his robes where a sword is most likely placed. Assuming he was a warrior, he had to be knowledgeable in martial arts, since brute force was not going to be on his side. Clint suspicion grows. This was most likely some kind of child prodigy. “What secrets lie with this kid?” He thinks to himself. The monk approaches him looking up at Clint. Clint prepares himself for anything.

“Well hiya there!” The kid gets a cheesy grin across his face, grabbing Clint’s hand, he shakes it wildly. “My name’s Sanry, nice to meet ya stranger!”

“What the hell?” Clint thinks so himself. “What’s with this kid?”

“Hello? Do you speak? Hellllooooooo??? Oh no, is he a mute. I’m so sorry if I offended you, can you ever forgive me?” Sanry has a concerned look on his face. He begins to pats Clint’s armored chest as if looking for a wound.

“I’m not a mute,” Clint replies bluntly.

“Woah,” Sanry gasps. “Guys! He spoke. It’s a miracle!” He continues patting the armor.

“What the hell is going with this-” Clint turns to find the other monks have disappeared.

“So I wasn’t told exactly what we’re doing.” Sanry’s eyes light up. “Are we going on an adventure? Oh this is going to be so fun! We’re going to bond, and become great partners. Oh man, I’m so excited I can barely contain it!”

Clint is completely dumbfounded. “W-we’re going to deal with the tribes causing trouble to the monastery,” Clint is still taken aback. “You have to help guide me through the forest since I don’t know the area that well.”

“Ooh, fun! I’ve explored the forest a whole bunch! I could definitely help you with that!” Sanry seems completely astatic.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“SANRY!” Clint shouts whipping his head around trying to pinpoint the monk through the trees. Catching a glimpse of the boys sandy blond hair through the greenery he finds Sanry skipping happily after a swallowtail butterfly.

“What are you doing!? We have a job to do!” Clint scolds Sanry as he approaches him from behind. Sanry turns to Clint, the butterfly in his hand. Sanry quickly shoves the butterfly into his mouth leaving Clint completely dazed. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Sanry coughs up the butterfly and it flies out of reach as he hopelessly grabs for it. “We’re going on a picnic, aren’t we? No wait, we’re grabbing herbs for medicine, right? No that’s not it... Are we gonna go fishing? We’re going fishing?” Sanry continues to babble nonsense.

Clint facepalms as his frustration grows. Sanry continues “oh no I got it! We’re treasure hunting!” He says triumphantly.

Clint repeatedly hits his head against a tree. “We’re going to negotiate with the tribe that’s been attacking the monastery,” Clint states irritably.

Sanry thinks to himself for a second. “No, that’s not it.” He walks off on his own again. Clint pauses, half tempted to leave Sanry in the forest and continue the search on his own, but chases after him.

After catching up to Sanry time and time again, Clint begins to feel like someone is watching them. “Sanry, I have something serious to talk about.” Clint grabs Sanry’s robe, lifting him slightly off the ground. “I think something might be following us.”

Sanry looks around suspiciously with a finger on his chin. Clint pulls his hand away from Sanry’s chin, and Sanry replaces it with a finger of his own. Clint drops Sanry explaining “this is serious.”

Clint continues to scan the area around, hand readied to grab his sword. Leaves begin to fall and loud noises encircle them. Soon Clint can make out a shadowy figure swooping through the treetops and quickly leaving out of sight.

“Could this be an enemy?”

#dnd #story #book #dungeons and dragons #nerdy #oc

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readbookywooks · 7 years

Text

A Little Demon

GOING in to Lise, he found her half reclining in the invalid-chair, in which she had been wheeled when she was unable to walk. She did not move to meet him, but her sharp, keen eyes were simply riveted on his face. There was a feverish look in her eyes, her face was pale and yellow. Alyosha was amazed at the change that had taken place in her in three days. She was positively thinner. She did not hold out her hand to him. He touched the thin, long fingers which lay motionless on her dress, then he sat down facing her, without a word. "I know you are in a hurry to get to the prison," Lise said curtly, "and mamma's kept you there for hours; she's just been telling you about me and Yulia." "How do you know?" asked Alyosha. "I've been listening. Why do you stare at me? I want to listen and I do listen, there's no harm in that. I don't apologise." "You are upset about something?" "On the contrary, I am very happy. I've only just been reflecting for the thirtieth time what a good thing it is I refused you and shall not be your wife. You are not fit to be a husband. If I were to marry you and give you a note to take to the man I loved after you, you'd take it and be sure to give it to him and bring an answer back, too. If you were forty, you would still go on taking my love-letters for me." She suddenly laughed. "There is something spiteful and yet open-hearted about you," Alyosha smiled to her. "The open-heartedness consists in my not being ashamed of myself with you. What's more, I don't want to feel ashamed with you, just with you. Alyosha, why is it I don't respect you? I am very fond of you, but I don't respect you. If I respected you, I shouldn't talk to you without shame, should I?" "No." "But do you believe that I am not ashamed with you?" "No, I don't believe it." Lise laughed nervously again; she spoke rapidly. "I sent your brother, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, some sweets in prison. Alyosha, you know, you are quite pretty! I shall love you awfully for having so quickly allowed me not to love you." "Why did you send for me to-day, Lise?" "I wanted to tell you of a longing I have. I should like some one to torture me, marry me and then torture me, deceive me and go away. I don't want to be happy." "You are in love with disorder?" "Yes, I want disorder. I keep wanting to set fire to the house. I keep imagining how I'll creep up and set fire to the house on the sly; it must be on the sly. They'll try to put it out, but it'll go on burning. And I shall know and say nothing. Ah, what silliness! And how bored I am!" She waved her hand with a look of repulsion. "It's your luxurious life," said Alyosha, softly" "Is it better, then, to be poor?" "Yes, it is better." "That's what your monk taught you. That's not true. Let me be rich and all the rest poor, I'll eat sweets and drink cream and not give any to anyone else. Ach, don't speak, don't say anything"; she shook her hand at him, though Alyosha had not opened his mouth. "You've told me all that before, I know it all by heart. It bores me. If I am ever poor, I shall murder somebody, and even if I am rich, I may murder someone, perhaps - why do nothing! But do you know, I should like to reap, cut the rye? I'll marry you, and you shall become a peasant, a real peasant; we'll keep a colt, shall we? Do you know Kalganov?" "Yes." "He is always wandering about, dreaming. He says, 'Why live in real life? It's better to dream. One can dream the most delightful things, but real life is a bore.' But he'll be married soon for all that; he's been making love to me already. Can you spin tops?" "Yes." "Well, he's just like a top: he wants to be wound up and set spinning and then to be lashed, lashed, lashed with a whip. If I marry him, I'll keep him spinning all his life. You are not ashamed to be with me?" "No." "You are awfully cross, because I don't talk about holy things. I don't want to be holy. What will they do to one in the next world for the greatest sin? You must know all about that." "God will censure you." Alyosha was watching her steadily. "That's just what I should like. I would go up and they would censure me, and I would burst out laughing in their faces. I should dreadfully like to set fire to the house, Alyosha, to our house; you still don't believe me?" "Why? There are children of twelve years old, who have a longing to set fire to something and they do set things on fire, too. It's a sort of disease." "That's not true, that's not true; there may be children, but that's not what I mean." "You take evil for good; it's a passing crisis; it's the result of your illness, perhaps." "You do despise me, though! It's simply that I don't want to do good, I want to do evil, and it has nothing to do with illness." "Why do evil?" "So that everything might be destroyed. Ah, how nice it would be if everything were destroyed! You know, Alyosha, I sometimes think of doing a fearful lot of harm and everything bad, and I should do it for a long while on the sly and suddenly everyone would find it out. Everyone will stand round and point their fingers at me and I would look at them all. That would be awfully nice. Why would it be so nice, Alyosha?" "I don't know. It's a craving to destroy something good or, as you say, to set fire to something. It happens sometimes." "I not only say it, I shall do it." "I believe you." "Ah, how I love you for saying you believe me. And you are not lying one little bit. But perhaps you think that I am saying all this on purpose to annoy you?" "No, I don't think that... though perhaps there is a little desire to do that in it, too." "There is a little. I never can tell lies to you," she declared, with a strange fire in her eyes. What struck Alyosha above everything was her earnestness. There was not a trace of humour or jesting in her face now, though, in old days, fun and gaiety never deserted her even at her most "earnest" moments. "There are moments when people love crime," said Alyosha thoughtfully. "Yes, yes! You have uttered my thought; they love crime, everyone loves crime, they love it always, not at some 'moments.' You know, it's as though people have made an agreement to lie about it and have lied about it ever since. They all declare that they hate evil, but secretly they all love it." "And are you still reading nasty books?" "Yes, I am. Mamma reads them and hides them under her pillow and I steal them." "Aren't you ashamed to destroy yourself?" "I want to destroy myself. There's a boy here, who lay down between the railway lines when the train was passing. Lucky fellow! Listen, your brother is being tried now for murdering his father and everyone loves his having killed his father." "Loves his having killed his father?" "Yes, loves it; everyone loves it! Everybody says it's so awful, but secretly they simply love it. I for one love it." "There is some truth in what you say about everyone," said Alyosha softly. "Oh, what ideas you have!" Lise shrieked in delight. "And you a monk, too! You wouldn't believe how I respect you, Alyosha, for never telling lies. Oh, I must tell you a funny dream of mine. I sometimes dream of devils. It's night; I am in my room with a candle and suddenly there are devils all over the place, in all the corners, under the table, and they open the doors; there's a crowd of them behind the doors and they want to come and seize me. And they are just coming, just seizing me. But I suddenly cross myself and they all draw back, though they don't go away altogether, they stand at the doors and in the corners, waiting. And suddenly I have a frightful longing to revile God aloud, and so I begin, and then they come crowding back to me, delighted, and seize me again and I cross myself again and they all draw back. It's awful fun, it takes one's breath away." "I've had the same dream, too," said Alyosha suddenly. "Really?" cried Lise, surprised. "I say, Alyosha, don't laugh, that's awfully important. Could two different people have the same dream?" "It seems they can." "Alyosha, I tell you, it's awfully important," Lise went on, with really excessive amazement. "It's not the dream that's important, but your having the same dream as me. You never lie to me, don't lie now; is it true? You are not laughing?" "It's true." Lise seemed extraordinarily impressed and for half a minute she was silent. "Alyosha, come and see me, come and see me more often," she said suddenly, in a supplicating voice. "I'll always come to see you, all my life," answered Alyosha firmly. "You are the only person I can talk to, you know," Lise began again. "I talk to no one but myself and you. Only you in the whole world. And to you more readily than to myself. And I am not a bit ashamed with you, not a bit. Alyosha, why am I not ashamed with you, not a bit? Alyosha, is it true that at Easter the Jews steal a child and kill it?" "I don't know." "There's a book here in which I read about the trial of a Jew, who took a child of four years old and cut off the fingers from both hands, and then crucified him on the wall, hammered nails into him and crucified him, and afterwards, when he was tried, he said that the child died soon, within four hours. That was 'soon'! He said the child moaned, kept on moaning and he stood admiring it. That's nice!" "Nice?" "Nice; I sometimes imagine that it was I who crucified him. He would hang there moaning and I would sit opposite him eating pineapple compote. I am awfully fond of pineapple compote. Do you like it?" Alyosha looked at her in silence. Her pale, sallow face was suddenly contorted, her eyes burned. "You know, when I read about that Jew I shook with sobs all night. I kept fancying how the little thing cried and moaned (a child of four years old understands, you know), and all the while the thought of pineapple compote haunted me. In the morning I wrote a letter to a certain person, begging him particularly to come and see me. He came and I suddenly told him all about the child and the pineapple compote. All about it, all, and said that it was nice. He laughed and said it really was nice. Then he got up and went away. He was only here five minutes. Did he despise me? Did he despise me? Tell me, tell me, Alyosha, did he despise me or not?" She sat up on the couch, with flashing eyes. "Tell me," Alyosha asked anxiously, "did you send for that person?" "Yes, I did." "Did you send him a letter?" "Yes." "Simply to ask about that, about that child?" "No, not about that at all. But when he came, I asked him about that at once. He answered, laughed, got up and went away." "That person behaved honourably," Alyosha murmured. "And did he despise me? Did he laugh at me?" "No, for perhaps he believes in the pineapple compote himself. He is very ill now, too, Lise." "Yes, he does believe in it," said Lise, with flashing eyes. "He doesn't despise anyone," Alyosha went on. "Only he does not believe anyone. If he doesn't believe in people, of course, he does despise them." "Then he despises me, me?" "You, too." "Good." Lise seemed to grind her teeth. "When he went out laughing, I felt that it was nice to be despised. The child with fingers cut off is nice, and to be despised is nice..." And she laughed in Alyosha's face, a feverish malicious laugh. "Do you know, Alyosha, do you know, I should like - Alyosha, save me!" She suddenly jumped from the couch, rushed to him and seized him with both hands. "Save me!" she almost groaned. "Is there anyone in the world I could tell what I've told you? I've told you the truth, the truth. I shall kill myself, because I loathe everything! I don't want to live, because I loathe everything! I loathe everything, everything. Alyosha, why don't you love me in the least?" she finished in a frenzy. "But I do love you!" answered Alyosha warmly. "And will you weep over me, will you?" "Yes." "Not because I won't be your wife, but simply weep for me?" "Yes." "Thank you! It's only your tears I want. Everyone else may punish me and trample me under foot, everyone, everyone, not excepting anyone. For I don't love anyone. Do you hear, not anyone! On the contrary, I hate him! Go, Alyosha; it's time you went to your brother"; she tore herself away from him suddenly. "How can I leave you like this?" said Alyosha, almost in alarm. "Go to your brother, the prison will be shut; go, here's your hat. Give my love to Mitya, go, go!" And she almost forcibly pushed Alyosha out of the door. He looked at her with pained surprise, when he was suddenly aware of a letter in his right hand, a tiny letter folded up tight and sealed. He glanced at it and instantly read the address, "To Ivan Fyodorovitch Karamazov." He looked quickly at Lise. Her face had become almost menacing. "Give it to him, you must give it to him!" she ordered him, trembling and beside herself. "To-day, at once, or I'll poison myself! That's why I sent for you." And she slammed the door quickly. The bolt clicked. Alyosha put the note in his pocket and went straight downstairs, without going back to Madame Hohlakov; forgetting her, in fact. As soon as Alyosha had gone, Lise unbolted the door, opened it a little, put her finger in the crack and slammed the door with all her might, pinching her finger. Ten seconds after, releasing her finger, she walked softly, slowly to her chair, sat up straight in it and looked intently at her blackened finger and at the blood that oozed from under the nail. Her lips were quivering and she kept whispering rapidly to herself: "I am a wretch, wretch, wretch, wretch!"

#BrothersKaramazov

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