Late to WIP party -- tell me about Opia!
And I'm even later to answering this -- forgive me! Holidays are a hectic time.
Haha oh man. Opia is a working title, but it refers to the indescribable feeling you have when you make direct eye contact with another person. I should rename it to something is in my eye, because the premise makes me cry.
It covers the backstory of my Cipher Eight, how he came to inherit the title and what triggered such a drastic change from the person he is as Cipher Nine in a different timeline. Not all of it. Just these final, soul-crushing moments where he realizes that Intelligence wants to scrap his beloved mentor, Nosta, and that he is the only one who can save her from being killed, brainwashed, or sent to Shadow Town. He clings to the memory that she is not just a weapon- that she wished to return home to Csilla, to her family, and thereon thinks my life for hers, because she is capable of love and has a life, while I do not.
This single act of devotion is his only motivation for everything after. He has to stay alive for her, to take her place, or his sacrifice will mean nothing.
But he is barely an adult. He is just a child, and he is scared and alone-- burdened with the knowledge that he must fight off every single person coming to take her away from him and end whoever gave the order to retire Cipher Eight permanently.
There's so many stories about dying to save the ones you love, but this is about forcing yourself to live and endure at the behest of someone else, so that the shadows of your life will never touch them again. It's looking at someone and understanding their happiness comes from something you lack. I just- have so many feelings about this Chiss agent who raised this boy to be disposable and ended up being so loved by him that he gave her the ticket to the happiness she only dreamt of. Spies do not earn happy endings. They are not supposed to dream of families and a life after. He knew this, and was forever changed because of it.
Excerpt:
There's nothing more frightening than staring your own death in the face.
It would be easier if it was about self-sacrifice, to go out in one final blaze of glory, all his enemies gone in one fell sweep-- and him, at the center, satisfied that his death worked as intended.
But the cards had never been stacked in his favor. This was not that story.
Get up!
Orradiz wheezed in labored, choppy breaths, barely able to shove down his urge to scream and cry beneath a slick veneer of oily blood that inked down the entire quadrant of his face. The lights of Kaas City spun in dizzying circles above him, blurred by tears that would not fall. He wanted to let go. To sink into the sea of oblivion that exhaustion granted after hours of hunting and being hunted like less than an animal. He felt the eye not bisected by his new patchwork of wounds carved by an endless night of vibroknives droop closed. Rest...
They're still out there! If you go, she goes!
Get up!
He jolted upright in the shadows of the dank alleyway, panic flooding his veins. No. He could not rest now. She still needed him- he would never rest again if he truly meant to do this. For her. For her, damn you.
He thought of Nosta, fighting her own battle in the solitude of the safehouse, her formerly brilliant blue skin pale and clammy with poison as her features twisted in agony. She had been delirious when he'd found her, scraping by the skin of her teeth to triumph over yet another assassin sent to silence her. He'd always known her as a proud woman. Unbreakable. The best of all her kind.
Yet the image of her curled in on herself, small, vulnerable, was one he never wished to see again. He had brought her to an empty warehouse. Laid her down on a cot, and wiped the sweat from her brow.
"Saganu..." She whimpered, and Orradiz felt his heart coming undone.
"You'll be with him soon." He'd spoken aloud, his voice unsure in the echo that resounded off the duracrete ventricles of their sanctuary. He rose to leave.
Nosta's hand latched onto his arm, stopping him.
"Don't," She wheezed through trembling teeth, her crimson eyes hazed over in pain. Orradiz's eyes widened imperceptibly.
"Nosta, you have to rest-" He unhooked her lithe fingers from him, a knot in his brow.
"Don't go."
He froze. Nosta was staring at him, the spark of her old resolve returning to her as she held their gazes, refusing to break eye contact. She mustered the last of her strength to cling to him. He felt the weakness of her muscles, how much it hurt to strain with the remnants of toxin in her veins.
She knew.
Thank you for the ask!
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@riotmade inquired : kai leans against the door, watching akari attempt to land the same combo it seems she’s been practicing for weeks, and just couldn’t hit. she hits the punching bag simply out of frustration, sparks flying from the palms of her hand as she glances over at katsuki with a groan. “ — i can’t get it. ” akari huffs. ( to be fair, most low - level pros couldn’t do this. ) ╱ unprompted.
𝗞𝗔𝗧𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗦 𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗡 𝗣𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗞𝗦 . when kaito and keisuke entrusted him to training their daughter akari ⸺ who ended up with an amplified version of the explosion quirk ⸺ the pro had to make it clear to both them and their kid that the training wasn’t going to be easy by any means. there was an entire regiment to follow which helped her keep up with calorie intake, a decent sleep schedule, and some leisurely exercise to counteract the rigorous training they’d do. she seemed to follow the regiment to the letter.
the pro hero recognises that it might be wearing her down, though, attempting the same combo for weeks on end with seemingly little progress. ( he’s seen pros fail to pull it off time and time again ╱ just because he could pull it off, and just because her uncle izuku could pull it off too, didn’t mean there was expectation for her to get it. did he make that clear enough ? ) her groan, glance, huff after her frustration translates well enough for katsuki to know she’s had enough ... but he doubts she’s given up. after all, was she not a bakugou ? giving up isn’t in a bakugou’s nature.
❝ yer pushing yerself too far, kid. ❞ katsuki remembers the times he would keep throwing himself at something that didn’t cooperate with him at first. he remembers the frustration and anger, the way he’d wear his knuckles down until they nearly bled, snarling at anyone who dared ask the next day. ❝ ‘sides, this ain’t somethin’ easy. most pros enterin’ the scene for the first time have no fuckin’ idea how t’do it. ❞
where to take it from there ? crimson glances briefly over to kaito, who he’d noticed come by to watch some time ago, before turning to his niece again.
❝ we can run it step-by-step together or somethin’, ‘n if y’still can’t get it, i’ll set you a different task that’ll give ya a run for yer money. ❞ gloved hand reaches into her hair for a good ruffle, small grin on the pro’s face as he strides past to the punching bag. ❝ either way, you’ll get it ‘n use the shit outta that technique, but y’gotta give yerself some time t’learn it. ❞
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