#Red Son would feel painful shock at the truth of the treatment he received and reflexive defensiveness for his parents all at once i think

[dr-chalk]

Demon Bull Family

[thewindsofsong]

Liu Sang has a brother and is also 12 when the fire happens

My angst brain has been going again regarding what Liu Sang’s relationship with his brother would look like and I also was thinking about how Liu Sang could be a part of the base dmbj series.

This is the result. I am planning on writing out more of this, but I wanted to at least post this first part before I lost motivation. Let me know what you think?

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The fire happens when Liu Sang is only 12. His little brother is only 8 years old and they’re both scared. Liu Sang had forced his way out of the restraints his “parents” had put him in and managed to get himself and his little brother Liu Yang out of the house before the flames overtook everything. Liu Yang only had some smoke inhalation, but Liu Sang got some 1st and 2nd degree burns in the process. They get taken to the hospital, but Liu Sang has many Bad Feelings regarding Stepmother’s family and bugs out.

Now homeless and desperate to not fall under the custody of his step mother’s family, he takes the both of them to try and live on the streets. The minimal training he received from his shifu is enough to pickpocket unsuspecting tourists  and occasionally steal from corner stores, but his brother still needs some kind of education and food and shelter. His own wounds are barely treated, burns scarring terribly with lack of treatment on his left shoulder.

He also does everything he can to keep the truth of what happened to their family from Liu Yang as best he can. He barely wants to accept it himself that their guardians tried to burn him alive and blame it on him, let alone subject Liu Yang to that horrifying revelation at such a young age. He also takes them far away from the province where they’re from to try and escape as much notice as possible. The attention the fire brought would make them too identifiable if they stuck around so they go south, hitchhiking and blending in with other families as best they can. 

After a few months, Liu Sang starts getting desperate. He’s still a kid himself, but he feels responsible for making sure his half brother gets the best life he can, but he doesn’t understand things like education standards.The best he can do is buy books and try to teach Liu Yang himself while also trying to get enough money for food and new clothes. He hears about an antique shop that has expensive items and little staff and decides to try his luck stealing an item to sell for a lot of money. He gets into the store at the same time when Wu Xie has just come back from the events of book 3 (need to do more research). Wu Xie catches Liu Sang red handed in his attempted theft because he’s inexperienced, hungry, and probably in pain. It takes all of 2 seconds for Wu Xie to realize that the thief he’s caught is a desperate, hungry kid and decides not to call the authorities and just talk to Liu Sang instead.

Liu Sang just about has a panic attack when he’s caught, but then this handsome, kind stranger sits him down at a table, puts a glass of juice and a snack in front of him and tries to gently get him to talk instead of yelling at him. Liu Sang devours everything in front of him and Wu Xie gets even more worried. After a little bit, Liu Sang starts telling him little bits of information like: he has a sibling, they’ve been living on the streets for a few months, and he doesn’t want to be found. Wu Xie doesn’t want to pressure this kid too much and tells Liu Sang that he and his sibling are welcome  to come to his shop and have a meal on him whenever they need one. Liu Sang leaves that day with a small chunk of cash and the impression of that  kind man’s smile allowing him into his home with no strings attached. 

Maybe a week or two later, Liu Yang catches a cold. Its not a bad illness persey, but the two of them have been crashing in whatever abandoned properties/back allies  they can find and the weather is getting wetter and colder. When Liu Yang faints, Liu Sang panics and brings the two of them back to Wushanju in tears. Wang Meng  and Wu Xie are overwhelmed at the frankly pathetic bundle at their door and do their best to help out. An hour later, Liu Yang has had some cold medicine, a warm bowl of soup, and been put to bed. Liu Sang is convinced to have some of the same soup and a warm shower. While dropping off towels or something, Wu Xie gets a glimpse of the burn scars on Liu Sang’s arms and is horrified. After making sure Liu Sang also goes to sleep he immediately starts researching online and finds one sensationalized news story about a family that was burned to death by the eldest son out of jelousy of his step family. The children are missing and most suspect dead.

More stuff happens and when Wu Xie asks about what happened to his family, Liu Sang, after months of holding himself together finally cracks and tells Wu Xie everything that happened, from his stepmother convincing his dad to force a paternity test, the results that he’s sure were altered, the fire they started and planned on blaming on him, the desperate struggle to get out with his brother. Then, in the hospital, hearing the rumors that were already starting to spread that he was the one to start the fire and deciding that he had to run, but also not liking the way he could hear the way his stepmother’s family was talking about Liu Yang and how they’d use him to get to their father’s wealth and how they spoke badly about Stepmother for failing to get rid of him.

Wu Xie is shocked and horrified at first, then resolves to take care of the Liu brothers. Realizing that he doesn’t know the first think about family law, calls up Ershu for advice.

[wearesuchstuff1]

I Am the One

Jyn and Cassian are discovered while on a mission.

Read on AO3

Cassian’s knees hit rough stone as a strong hand shoved him to the ground.  The room was dark, the warm flickering light of the few lamps not nearly bright enough to reach into the corners of the cave.  Parts of the underground lair had been made comfortable, rugs and fabrics draped over a natural made dais where a raised chair sat surrounded by pillows and cushions, but the stones beneath Cassian had been left bair.  If the Bachda cult Cassina and Jyn had been assigned to infiltrate had a throne room, this would be it.

A furious yelp was heard, then a small and struggling body was forced down next to Cassian.  Jyn stilled when her eyes met his.  So much for any hope he may have had of her cover remaining intact.  They had been so careful, entering the syndicut separately, each bringing honored gifts for the Enforcers to deliver to the Hutts.  Since the Bachda clut was a front for the Hutts, run by a select group of Nikto on Kintan, staying in the Hutts good graces had been paramount to the success of their mission.  Rebellion shipments had already been hit by the Bachda cult three times in the past two months, draining the Alliance of much needed supplies.  Jyn and Cassina had been tasked with discovering how the information could have been leaked.  Cassian feared that whoever the informant was had been made aware of their presence before they could become aware of theirs.     

A blaster pressed into the nape of Cassian’s neck and out of the corner of his eye he could see another trained on Jyn, but Cassian allowed himself one more moment to look into the green of the eyes staring back at him.  

Force, he had missed her.

Aside from a few quick, whispered words and messages detailing their total lack of their findings, they had not been able to see or interact with each other much at all during this mission.  How could they, when their aliases didn’t know each other?

A sound made Jyn’s eyes flick to the throne and Cassian’s gaze reluctantly follow.  The chair was occupied by a Kajain’sa’Nikto, red skin tones cast a shade darker in the half light.  Lethrol, Hutt appointed leader of the Bachdas, had arrived.  He stared down at them coldly, but there was a fierce glint in his eye that made Cassian’s stomach clench.  Lethrol did not take well to being crossed.  Cassian sent a silent prayer to the Force, or whoever was listening, that the extraction message he had sent moments before being dragged away would reach Kay soon.   

At a short nod from the Nikto, a sharp burst of pain flashed through Cassian’s skull as he was hit over the head with his captor’s blaster.  He doubled over, guessing from Jyn’s bit off cry that she had received the same treatment.   

“Even spies must show me some respect.”  Lethrol’s Basic was clipped and when Cassian glanced back he saw what he had only begun to identify in the Nikto’s eyes now written across his entire face.  He was going to enjoy this.  

“We won’t tell you anything, you son of a Bantha,” Jyn spat.  Lethrol stood, stepping down to stand just in front of Jyn, a terrifying smile still playing on his face.  It was all Cassina could do not to fling himself at Lethrol for even looking at Jyn the way he did.

“You misunderstand, my dear,” Lethrol purred, the sweetness of his tone threatening to drown the two of them.  “I have no need of your information, I have plenty of my own.  I know who you work for and I know why you are here.  I just want to have some fun.”

The touch of a force pike to his back sent electric shocks coursing through Cassian’s body.  A sound escaped him, but the echoing of Jyn’s cries hurt Cassian more than any shock ever could.  When the pain abated and the light behind his eyes faded, Cassian looked back up at Lethrol, smiling down at the two of them.

The Nikto knelt next to Jyn as she gasped for breath on the floor next to Cassian.

“Now, my dears, I’m sorry to say this, but we’re really only equipped to handle one prisoner at a time.  We don’t often get the fun of two people to, uh, educate.  One of you is going to have to wait your turn.”

Another shock left both Cassian and Jyn shaking on the floor.  Lethrol gripped Jyn’s chin, forcing her to look up at him from where she lay.  Cassian wouldn’t have been surprised if every Nikto in the room could hear him grinding his teeth together with the effort of not attacking Lethrol.  He was disarmed and still panting at the effects of the force pike.  He would be no good to Jyn dead.

“So, which one of you would like to go first?”

“I will,” Cassian spat, trying not to sound too desperate.  If he could spare Jyn even an ounce of pain he would, no matter what it may cost him.  He knew that the only reason his words came out faster than Jyn’s was because Lethrol’s fingers on her cheek seem to have momentarily paralyzed her.  

Two sets of eyes flicked to him, one wide and fearful, the other narrow and curious.

“Will you, now?  That’s very generous of you.”  Lethrol turned his attention back to Jyn, his long fingers still stroking her skin.  It made Cassian want to be sick.  “Isn’t that kind of him, my dear.  To offer to endure all that pain.  I wonder what would make him do that?”

Jyn’s fire flared and she slapped his hand away from her face.  “Leave him alone you-”  The tip of the force pike came down on Jyn’s shoulder before she could finish speaking.  She cried out, her body seizing, and Cassian felt pain course through him, despite his guard not having made a single move towards him.   

“Stop it!  Stop it!”  At a nod from Lethrol, Jyn’s guard stepped back, leaving her gasping.  “You asked, and I offered to go first.  I offered!  Leave her be.”

“Cassian, no.”  Jyn’s voice was weak but she pushed herself up again, her eyes meeting his.

The glint in the Nikto lord’s look had returned, and Cassian could find no better description for it than malevolent glee.  “Do you care for this girl, Cassian?”  The name slid off his tongue like an insult.  Cassian would never forgive himself for it, but somehow - even after years of intelligence training - he couldn't stop his glance from slipping, for the briefest of moments, to Jyn.  It was enough.  Lethrol let out a laugh as if High Day had come early.  The sound made Cassian shiver.

“You do.  Don’t you?  Well don’t worry, Cassian, I’ll let you go first.  In fact, I have something very special for you, something I’ve always wanted to try.  You are the first to give me the opportunity.  I thank you for it.”  With that Lethrol stood up, barking orders Cassian couldn’t understand.       

Two guards dragged Cassian to the side of the dais, forcing him to the ground and hitting him with their force pikes again for good measure.  When the shocks and the pain subsided Cassian watched in horror as Jyn was stirpped of her outer layers of clothing.  Her hands were bound and attached to a chain, which was then hoisted through a metal ring attached to the ceiling specifically, Cassian imagined, for that purpose.

Jyn gasped as her arms were forced above her head.  Her feet still touched the ground, but only barely.   

It took everything in Cassian’s power to keep his voice even.  “We made a deal, Lethrol.”

The spiked head turned to him and the smile Lethrol flashed was full of sharp teeth.  “Don’t worry, Rebel.  I have the distinct feeling that no matter what I do to her it will hurt you more.”  Cassian felt as though he had eaten some of Chewbacca’s cooking.  It was probably good that he had not eaten lunch.  The sight of Lethrol running a cold finger down Jyn’s bare arm turned Cassian’s vision red.

“Emotional pain has always fascinated me.  How much you are willing to give for another seems to me a measure of weakness.”  He glanced back at Cassian.  “You’ll have to be sure to tell me your thoughts before I kill you.  Now, my dear,” he purred, turning back to Jyn.  “Have you ever heard of Skirtopanol?”

While the others in the room might not have been able to see the fear behind Jyn’s fierce eyes, Cassian could read her well enough to perceive the recognition the name brought to her.  Of course she would know Skirtopanol.  Between her time with Saw, her life on the run, and her experience with Imperial labor camps, the torture drugs of the galaxy were nothing new to her.  This particular drug was a truth serum, but beings like Lethrol found the pain enhancing properties of the compound more useful.  The greater sensitivity made the torture more effective.  Once injected with Skirtopanol, the softest cloth would be painful as needles on the skin, and needles - well, Cassian couldn’t bear to think.

The dim lamp light caught the glint of a syringe just before the needle slipped into Jyn’s arm.  She screamed as the blue-grey liquid pulsed into her body, the effects of the drug all but instantaneous.  

Lethrol tutted and turned back to Cassian.  “Oh dear.  That was quite a high dose for such a little body.”  A cart was brought forward, the array of torture implements laid out singing in the light.  Carefully Lethrol selected a knife the length of his palm.  “Which means, if I do this,” with a quick motion the knife flashed across Jyn’s arm, a thick line of red following in its path, “well I can’t quite imagine how much that must hurt her.  Can you?”

Jyn was gasping.  Though Cassian could tell the cut wasn’t all that deep - Jyn had certainly had much worse - the force of her shuddering body shook the chains dangling from the ceiling.  Another flash of the knife and blood spilled from Jyn’s side.  A cry escaped her and she whimpered as her eyes found Cassian’s once more.   

“Can you tell me how that feels, my dear?”

“I’m going to rip your ugly skin from your bones,” Jyn gasped.

Even as the knife bit into Jyn’s skin once again Cassian felt a tiny swell of pride.  Jyn would not be so easily broken.

“Well that won’t do at all.  But don’t worry,” Lethrol turned his sickening smile to Cassian, “the Skirtopanol in her system won’t wear off for hours yet.  We have plenty of time to get creative.”

Without a thought Cassian lunged at the Nikto.  The electric shock of the force pike hit him before he could take three steps and left him seizing on the ground.  Lethrol stood above him, then knelt, so that when the electricity abated Cassian was able to push himself up and look the crime lord in the eyes.

The Lethrol's voice was quiet when he spoke, but his fury was evident.  “You will watch her scream, and if you try to help her it will be your hand that causes her death.”  The threat was punctuated with a flick of the knife.  Warm blood seeped down Cassian’s ribs, the cut long, but not deep enough for him to bleed out before Lethrol had his way with him.  

With that Lethrol turned back to Jyn and began his work in earnest.  He pressed his knife into her body once more, drawing it through her skin slowly this time, as if he were savoring every note of Jyn’s painting, broken scream and every drop of her crimson blood.  Jyn thrashed and bucked away, but chained and drugged, with every fiber of her being vibrating in pain, she had nowhere she could go.  Lethrol’s laughter mixed with Jyn’s draw out cries as Cassian realized with mind-numbing horror that he hadn’t even begun to see the worst of it.   

The minutes dragged into hours as Cassian was forced to watch, helpless, as Jyn shrieked and sobbed under the Nikto’s tools.  Lethrol seemed to prefer electric implaments of torture, the blue and green shocks that corsed through Jyn leaving no outward marks, but sending convulsions coursing through her body.  Sometimes she screamed his name, other times she hung limp, her mind and body taxed to the limit, eyes glazed over.  

At some point Cassian must have gone into shock.  He remembered only bits and pieces, as if it had been he, and not Jyn, who had been drugged.  Occasionally the guard standing behind him would prod him with the force pike for good measure, whether to amuse himself or bring Cassian back to the present he was never quite sure.  Somehow Cassian came to welcome the physical pain.  At least for a moment it would allow him to concentrate on something - anything - other than Jyn.

She shrieked her voice hoarse and the tears on Jyn and Cassian’s cheeks alike dried to salty streaks when exhaustion and horror left them each too weak to even cry.  

Sometimes Cassian found a near constant string of words grinding out from behind his clenched teeth, their meanings all but incoherent to him.  Pleas to the Force and pleas to Jyn mixed in equal measure with Festian curses and Chirrut’s prayers.  

Other times he fell silent, his mind blocking out all but the smallest of things.  The soft glow of Jyn’s Kyber crystal hanging around her neck, smudged slightly with her blood.  The way her tears amplified the green in her beautiful eyes.  The pulse of her heartbeat that pounded in her neck, in the place he loved to kiss when they were curled quietly together in their bunk.

Lethrol was careful to keep Jyn conscious through it all, but shrieks and screams morphed to cires, then whimpers and moans, and finally she hung silent, her legs no longer able to support her body, her neck no longer able to lift her head.  Finally, when even the touch of the force pike couldn’t break Jyn’s deafening quiet, Lethrol turned away.  

“Let her down.”

The order was followed immediately, the chain around Jyn’s wrist released.  She sank to her knees, her figure shaking.  Cassian wasn’t even sure she was aware of anyone else in the room.

She had been losing blood steadily since this nightmare began.  The blood loss must be getting to her at this point and for a moment Cassian dared to hope that they would allow Jyn to bandage her wounds, that they would turn their attentions towards him, leave Jyn alone, even if it was just so she could gather her strength for the next round of torture.  Anything so long as they stopped hurting her.  

“Jyn.”

Even to his own ears Cassian sounded beyond broken.  His voice was husky and he could taste copper from where he had bit his cheek, but somehow, despite everything, it was enough to make her look up.

Jyn’s eyes met his, the same eyes that had been his lifeline at Scarif, that blazed with fire on missions, and that blinked sleepily up at him in the early morning pre-light.  Her gaze was slightly unfocused, but despite the trembling and the low moan of pain that escaped her lips, relief flooded through Cassian, however short lived.    

Lethrol had turned away for a moment - fiddling with something on the cart filled with instruments just the sight of which sent Cassian’s mind reeling back to Jyn’s screams - but now he crossed back to Jyn, another small syringe in his red hand.  A shudder ran through Cassian at the sight.  

“Very well done, my dear,” Lethrol’s voice was soft and sickly sweet.  “Most humans wouldn’t have lasted half as long as you did.  And Cassian,” the Nikto’s red eyes slid to the spy, “you were most interesting.  How must it feel to be rendered so helpless by the pain of another.  What weakness that must be.”

“I swear to the Force I will rip your limbs from you body, you -” the touch of the force pike stopped Cassian’s words.  On their lowest setting the pikes we quite an effective means of torture.  On their highest they could kill a human with one touch.  Cassian suspected the Nikto guards had been slowly increasing the voltage.  

“Well, it seems we have proven Cassian’s feelings for you.”  Cassian watched as the crime lord knelt once again by Jyn - his brave, fearless Jyn - and she shrank back from him in terror.  She was well and truly broken and what was left of Cassian shattered at the sight of it.  

“Now I think it’s your turn to prove yourself, my dear.  This,” Lethrol told her, holding up the syringe, “is Lotiramine.”

Confusion washed over Cassian.  Lothiramine was a benign drug used to mask the symptoms of Blastonecrosis, a particularly deadly disease.  What Lethrol wanted with it was beyond him.

“Lotiramine is harmless by itself,” Lethrol explained, “helpful, even, in the right circumstances.  This supply was recovered in one of your Alliance shipments.  However, when paired with certain amounts of Skirtopanol - for example, the amount pumping through your body right now - it metabolizes and, in most instances, becomes lethal.”

The Nikto placed the syringe on the ground next to Jyn then stood, a smug smile on his face.  “You will injected yourself with it,” he instructed her.

Cassian flinched back at the suggestion, but Jyn just let out a harsh breath.  It was the closest she could come to a laugh.  

Swaying on her knees, her voice raw from screaming, Jyn still managed to speak.  “Never.”

Lethrol shook his head, pacing away from Jyn.  “Ah, my dear.  Don’t make oaths you can’t keep.”

In a moment the crime lord had grabbed Cassian, hauling him upright and pinning his arms behind his back.  The flash of a knife was at his throat and Cassian froze, years of Alliance training keeping him still despite the pounding of his heart at the sight of the syringe lying by Jyn’s kneeling form.

“Inject yourself or he dies, here and now.”

Jyn’s eyes widened slowly as Lethrol’s words reached her through the haze of pain, and they slid between the two of them.

“Jyn, don’t.”  Cassian’s voice was rough but firm.  The press of the knife at his throat silenced the rest of his words.  Don’t you dare, Jyn.  Not ever.  Not for me.

When they had met he had counted her as nothing more than a thief.  A criminal who would stab him in the back the first chance she got, who didn’t care about anything or anyone other than herself.  A firefight and a young girl on a street in Jedah had proved him wrong.  Without a second thought for herself she had run into blaster fire, despite Cassian’s shouts, and had carried the girl to safety.  He had thought in that moment that Jyn was what the Rebellion could be - should be - far more than he ever was.  He looked down a scope and pulled the trigger so that others didn’t have to.  It was a necessary job, but one that took a part of him with each new mission, never to be regained, and made him both a necessity to and an outsider from the Rebellion he had given so much for.  And, above all, it had made him unworthy of saving.

But that didn’t seem to matter to Jyn.

Her right hip bore the scar of a blaster bolt that had been meant for him, her eyes often bore the dark circles of sleepless nights spent comforting him, and her heart bore the aches and worries of a woman in love in the midst of war.  Jyn chose to sacrifice herself for the Alliance, for friends, and for strangers.  And somehow, Jyn chose to sacrifice herself for Cassian, despite the blood that dripped from his memories into his nightmares.  It had seeped into every corner of his life, Cassian had thought, until the day Jyn had wiped away a space for herself and chosen to sacrifice her heart for his.

And he knew, with a clarity that sat deep in his soul, that she would chose to sacrifice herself for him again and again and again.  He would do the same for her.

“I will kill him, my dear.  It’s your choice.”

A tiny stream of blood dripped down Cassian’s throat.  He prayed that Jyn could read his thoughts in his eyes.  Kay his coming.  He’ll be here soon.  Don’t do this.  I will never forgive myself if you do this.   

Horror was plain on Jyn’s face and the entire room was still.  The torture had taxed her, body and mind, to the limit, and her entire frame still shook with the aftermath of it, right down to her pale, thin fingers as they reached down and picked up the syringe.  Her breath caught and her gaze found Cassian’s once more.

“One of you is about to die.”  Lethrol’s voice had lost its sweetness, his anger bleeding through.  “Make your choice!”  With his final shout, Lethrol plunged his short dagger down.

Cassian gasped at the agony that sparked through his body even as Lethrol released the knife, leaving it embedded in Cassian’s side.  Any noise Cassian made, however, was drowned out by Jyn’s scream.

“No!  No, please!  Please, don’t.”  The last word ended in a sob.  “I’ll do it.”  Her voice broke and her chest shuttered, but when her eyes met Cassians’ they were calm.  “I’ll do it,” she repeated, before turning to the death she held in her hand.  

Shaking his head, Cassian would have sunk to the ground, unable to support himself, if not for the strong arms holding him still.  Jyn positioned the needle against the soft skin in the crook of her elbow, hands trembling.       

“Jyn, don’t!”

Cassian struggled, desperate and frantic, against his captor’s hold.  

Jyn closed her eyes and took a breath-

“No!  Jyn, no!”    

-then plunged the needle into her skin.

She screamed as the drug entered her bloodstream.  Cassian’s own screams echoed hers.

Later, when Cassian tried to remember what happened next, he found that panic - a sheer, white light - had blocked out most of his memories.  He escaped, or perhaps was released, from Lethrol’s hold and stumbled to Jyn, the pain the knife still buried in his side must be causing him not even registering.  

Her body contorted and she crumpled towards the floor, still screaming, as the poison did its work.  She retched and convulsed, her body trying to fight what could not be fought.  Cassian caught her head before it hit the ground and gathered her up in his arms as her screams continued, breaking only to be replaced with cries and heaving moans.  Her chest contracted, then released and contacted again, her slight frame seizing so violently Cassian could hardly hold her.

The sight of Jyn writhing in agony, her eyes unseeing, undid Cassian.  She thrashed against his grip, trying to escape the pain that was inside her, but he restrained her as best he could, afraid that she would hurt herself more than had already been done to her.

“Jyn.  Jyn!  Look at me!  Look.  You’re going to be alright.  I promise,” Cassian gasped, holding her tightly, trying to keep her still.  He pushed the hair out of her face, his motions frantic as if these simple acts could keep her from leaving him.  Some part of him knew that she couldn’t hear him, that she was already beyond his reach, but the pleas slipped from his mouth nonetheless.  

“Jyn, don’t go.  Stay with me.”  His voice broke and her fingers spasmed as they found his.  He gripped her hand tightly.

She had gone quiet but she continued to jerk in his grip.  Her jaw was clenched, every line in her neck standing out in sharp relief, and her gaze were far away.  It took Cassian a moment to realize that the wrenching sobs he could hear echoing through the cave were his own.  

Suddenly, Jyn’s back arched as she let out one final scream that seemed to last forever, then her eyes rolled back and fluttered closed.  Her body collapsed and went lip in Cassian’s arms, her head lolling over his arm, her still frame cradled to his chest.

For a moment everything was motionless.  The only things Cassian could hear were his pounding heartbeat and his harsh breath.  He didn’t blink, he didn’t move, he didn’t think.    

“Well that was most interesting.”

The voice broke both the silence and Cassian.  With slow and gentle movements Cassian lowered Jyn to the ground.  Lithrol might still have been speaking, Cassian couldn’t make anything out past the roaring in his ears, but he decided he didn’t much care.  A rage, fueled by anguish and despair worse than anything Cassian had felt possible, had taken hold of him.  This was beyond what had prompted him to join the Alliance, beyond what he had felt when his parents had died, beyond even comprehension itself.

With a quick jerk Cassian yanked the knife from his side.  He might bleed out faster this way, but not fast enough.  And now Cassian had a weapon.  He intended to use it.

The guard closest to him was first.  A quick slash across the neck despatched him, the Niktos’ anatomy similar enough to that of a human’s.  His own guard was next, and as he collapsed before him Cassian grabbed the force pike from his hand.  A blaster bolt found Cassian’s shoulder before the owner of the pistol hit the ground, the knife sticking out of his chest.  Two guards remained, but without a thought Cassian turned his attentions to Lithrol.

Cassian had always preferred blasters.  He was a sniper and a spy, afterall, and while he had trained extensively in most types of combat with the Rebellion he had always gravitated towards blasters.  But now Cassian stalked past the guards’ fallen pistols as he stepped towards Lithrol, a quick flick of his thumb adjusting the force pike in his hand to its highest setting.  

The Nikto fought back, a small blaster in his hand, but Cassian dogged two bolts and barely felt the third.  And then he was there, and when, a moment later, Baze, Chirrut, and Kay burst into the room, quickly taking out the two remaining guards, Lethrol was already dead, the force pike buried in his chest.   

Hardly registering his friend’s presence Cassian stumbled back to Jyn.  He ignored Baze’s worried exclamations and Kay’s information that when Cassian and Jyn hadn’t responded to their pre-extraction check in with Command a rescue team had been dispatched to bring the two of them home, the words slipping through his unregistering mind.

He collapsed to his knees by Jyn’s side, shaking hands, now covered in blood, hovering, unable to touch her.  He could feel himself trembling, his vision tinting dark around the edges, but he didn’t look up from Jyn, didn’t move or even acknowledged the others’ presence.

Silence filled the room, pressing in around him, - choking his lungs, filling his mind - until Chirrut’s voice, somehow both hard and soft, was heard in the room for the first time.  

“Cassian, she isn’t dead.”  

*****

After three days Cassian was convinced that the beeping would drive him insane.  It was constant, incessant, filling the entirety of the small medbay room.  The only thing worse than the beeping was the two times the beeping had stopped, once on the nightmarish flight away from Kintan and once just after they got back to Hoth.  

He had carried Jyn’s limp body back to the ship – Kay, Chirrut, and Baze tried to argue he wasn’t strong enough after what he’d been through, but eventually gave up and covered his back – where a medical officer and droid had accompanied the extraction team.  Even still, her heart had stuttered to a halt twice, the poison fighting to do its job.  The sight of her convulsing under the electric shocks of the doctor’s instruments had almost been too much for Cassian, the memories of her screams still so fresh in his mind.  

Cassian had collapsed next to Jyn - hardly noticing as Bodhi piloted them into hyperspace and Baze worriedly slapped Bacta patches onto Cassian’s own wounds - and he had stayed by her side every moment since, fighting off everyone from medical droids to Mon Mothma.  He hadn’t had to fend off anyone recently and he had a distinct feeling that Kay was keeping guard outside the door, not allowing anyone inside.     

It had been three days.  Three days and Jyn hadn’t woken up.  Three days and no one seemed able to tell Cassian if she would wake up.  All he had been told was that it was very rare for someone to survive the combination of Lotiramine and Skirtopanol and that even in the few documented cases of it happening, serious damage had always been done.  Bodhi had been in the room with him when the news had been delivered, and as much as Cassian loved the pilot, the hopeless sadness on Bodhi’s face had made Cassian want to scream.  

This was Jyn.  His Jyn.  She was strong.  She would pull through.  

But after three days the inescapable terror that, after everything, Cassian would still lose her, that she would slip away quietly, laying tiny and fragile in a medbay bed, and that he would never get her back, threatened to choke Cassian.

He shifted in his seat, his knife wound still twinging a bit under the bandages.  Somewhere in medbay was a bed assigned to him, but they had only tried to make him leave once.  After his reaction the first time he doubted they would try again.   

He was dozing when the beeping shifted.  The change in the monotonous sound he had become so accustomed to started Cassian alert.  A moment later a near-human medical officer, followed closely by a 2-1B droid, hurried into the room.     

“What’s happening?” Cassian demanded, his hand clutching Jyn’s and his eyes firmly fixed on her still figure.

Neither the doctor nor the droid had time to answer before, with an audible intake of breath, Jyn opened her eyes.

For a moment all Cassian could do was hold Jyn’s hand tighter as the droid and the doctor bustled around them.  Jyn’s eyes flickered around the room as if searching for something familiar.  Cassian was afraid to move, afraid that, after everything she had been through, he would do or say the wrong thing and she would break in front of him.

Finally he found his voice.  “Jyn?”

When the green of her gaze met his Cassian nearly sobbed in relief.  Despite everything she was alive and awake.  The images of her tortured body hanging limp at Lithrol’s mercy – the same images that had haunted his waking moments and made sleep not only impossible but unimaginable – retreated from where they had been so ever-present for the past three days to below the surface of his mind.     

“Jyn.”  This time when he said her name, his voice breaking around the single syllable, it was a prayer of thanks.

For a moment he was answered simply with silence.  It was only as her eyes remained blank that Cassian began to feel something might be wrong.

“Where am I?”  Her voice was hoarse and weak.

“You’re back on Hoth,” the doctor – Cassian wished he could remember her name but, truth to tell, he hadn’t been paying much attention when they had been introduced – told her.  “Have been for three days.”

Jyn looked around the room again.  “Hoth?”

Cassian nodded and the 2-1B droid hummed as it fiddled with the medical equipment.

“What-“ an expression of pain crossed Jyn’s face.  Instinctively Cassian sat closer but her fingers remained limp in his grasp.  “What happened?”

The doctor turned back to Jyn.  “It’s natural to be a bit muddled, dear,” - Cassian flinched at the pet name, but Jyn didn’t react.  “What you went through – well we should thank the Force you’re alive.”  Cassian couldn’t agree more, but Jyn didn’t seem calmed by the statement.  If anything she was more upset, the beeping from the monitor increasing speed.

“What are you talking about?  What’s going one?”  The first two questions had been directed at the doctor but at the last Jyn turned to Cassian, desperation and fear coloring her voice and breaking his heart, although not nearly as much as her next words did.

“Who are you?”

Cassian stared at her in helpless horror.  Jyn was visibly panicking now.  She had pushed herself to sitting, despite the way her breath caught at the pain she must be causing herself, and her wide eyes flicked from Cassian’s to the droid and the near human, then back again.

“Jyn-“

“Stop saying my name like that!”

With that Jyn bolted.  Ripping electrodes and monitors from her skin her bare feet hit the ground and she ran, her legs somehow managing to support her as she raced for the door.

“Please stop.  You have not been released yet,” the 2-1B intoned just before Jyn knocked it out of the way.  She was though the door before Cassian could reach her and her cry echoed through the hallway by the time he burst into the corridor.

Kay had knocked Jyn flat on her back and was looking down at her from his full height.  “You are being helped, Jyn Erso.  Please do not resist.”

Thank you fore reading!!  More to come!  Let me know what you think!!

AO3

Unfortunately I do not own Star Wars or Rogue One

[thefinalcinderella]

DIVE!! Book 3 Chapter 3-STAR KNOWS

Two things:

1. The Fujitani family has some serious communication issues

2. Shibuki is pure

Full list of translations here

Last time on DIVE!!: Youichi is being threatened by snowmen.

He couldn’t express it well in words.

He himself didn’t even understand it.

But, something was caught in his heart.

It was like acne on his cheeks.

Like a stain on his shirt.

Like a fluorescent lamp that was about to go out.

Like the reply to a missed letter.

It was the next day that a small shock ran through the MDC. Youichi, who was usually almost never late, was suddenly absent from diving practice. It was an everyday occurrence for any other club member, but when Youichi did it, it immediately became a scandal.

It started with a chronic headache. For years, Youichi had been afflicted with a dull pain at the back of his head. The usual pattern for it was to recede and intensify, like waves, and eventually going away, but on that day, it was an huge unbearable wave that persisted on and on.

Nevertheless, if it was the usual Youichi, he would have endured that pain with the force of his will, and he would have gone through practice without anyone the wiser. However, on that day, even his reliable will was complicit in him skipping practice. Ordinarily, he would have tried to go to practice “no matter what,” but now he did not even try to show up at all.

It seems I want to take a break from practice. The moment he thought that, he was extremely surprised. Taking a break from practice. It was as if this was the first time that he knew he had that option.

In truth however, when he went home and gone straight to lying down on his bed after school, it wasn’t a big deal to just take a break. He was also very surprised by the fact that it wasn’t a big deal.

He was even more surprised when Keisuke, returning from the MDC’s practice, did not try to reproach him for skipping practice without permission.

It wasn’t just Keisuke. Though Yoriko, who brought dinner to Youichi’s room since he didn’t even try to go out of it, heard about it from Keisuke, she didn’t try to touch on it at all.

“He seems to have become more unstable after the Olympics representatives were suddenly decided. Normally it would have been something that happily motivated him, but he is difficult. Leave him alone for a while.”

Difficult. From an early age, Youichi had continued to be described like that by Keisuke. Though he’d admit that he was somewhat obstinate, he didn’t think that he was especially difficult. But in his dad’s eyes he was practically Dazai Osamu (2), just because he didn’t have a clear-cut, sports-oriented disposition.

Perhaps Keisuke wanted a son who was bright, cheerful, simple and easy to understand, with whom he could pound mochi in the New Year. While eating the dinner that Yoriko brought—vegetable-based home cooking with the calories precisely calculated—Youichi thought that his father, who took pains over his own far-from-ideal treatment, was pitiful and laughable.

If I keep missing practice like this, what’s he going to do?

Youchi was suddenly interested in what Keisuke’s response would be when he was confronted with an unfamiliar situation.

That wasn’t really the reason, but he was absent from practice the next day as well.

“Hey, what’s up with you?”

On his third day off from practice, Shibuki called out to Youichi down the high school hallway.

“It’s not like you to keep missing practice. Did you get a cold?”

Though they were both in the same grade at Sakuragi High School, since they had different classes and their classrooms were also far apart from each other, they almost never met each other in school. Even if they did happen to bump into each other, they only said something like “yo” and it was rare for them to talk in the hallways.

“Under the influence of Uranus, Leos are at risk of water-related accidents this month.”

Shibuki ignored Youichi’s joke. “As soon as I came back from Tsugaru, the Olympics representatives were decided, my rival wouldn’t come to practice…it’s a pretty awful story. Is it true that you’re switching to be a commercial tarento (1) now?”

“Commercial tarento?”

“The elementary schoolers are making a fuss about it. You going to Sydney is already well-known in the club. My roommate was shocked that five people immediately wanted to go to the Olympics, influenced by you. You’re a star.”

“Star…”

“By the way, my roommate is worried as to whether or not you’re burned out. As soon as you got the right to participate in the Olympics, you suddenly got exhausted and turned into ashes.”

Youichi sighed. A lot of people were prattling on about a whole bunch of things that he himself didn’t know about.

“If that’s a joke, then it’s funny, but if you’re serious, then tell Ooshima-san that that’s too stupid. Maybe when I win a gold medal, but I’m not going to turn into ashes just because I can go to the Olympics.”

“Well, after you are going to be a…”

“Were you going to say commercial tarento, you idiot?”

“Then why aren’t you coming to practice? What are you thinking?”

“Because I don’t know that, I’m trying it out.”

“What?”

“I don’t know why, but I suddenly don’t feel like practicing. Since it’s the first time I’ve ever felt like that, even I’m perplexed by myself. What the hell am I doing? In fact, if I take a break, I’ll know. I’m just testing that out. So, I guess this is the test period.”

“I don’t get it,” Shibuki said, uneasily folding his arms. “It’s fine if you don’t,” Youichi replied, flicking his hand. The female students walking up and down the hallway repeatedly glanced at the two who were facing each other in the middle of the hallway. The large, wild boy, and the smart, beautiful boy. They might have been too different to understand each other. But…

“I don’t get it, but it doesn’t matter. Come to think of it, I also skipped a lot when I was in Tsugaru, so if you want to take a break, then you should.” Shibuki continued, revealing white teeth that contrasted against his brown skin, burned by the sun of his hometown. “But I’ll just say this. I came back to dive with you and Sakai once again. If I compete against you guys again, the stage can be at either Sydney or Tatsumi or the school pool. But it’s no use without you.” Shibuki stated forcefully. Youichi found it hard to meet his enlivened eyes.

Shibuki had suffered from a back injury, and though he temporarily ran home to Tsugaru, he returned in order to dive again. Right after that, the Olympic representatives were chosen, and though there was no reason that he shouldn’t be discouraged, he was still trying to dive.  

That tough heart, that wholesome spirit that directly cheered on his rivals, that athlete who Keisuke would probably cry with pleasure over, all of that was too refreshing, too difficult, for the current Youichi.

“Tomo-kun sent flowers.”

Yoriko told Youichi two days later, when he returned home from school.

“They’re celebratory flowers to congratulate you on the Olympics. That’s rather tasteful of him, isn’t it? I decorated your room with them.”

Yoriko was a part-time worker, so she may either go or not go to the JASF for work, but ever since Youichi started taking a break from practice, she was strangely always at home. He wondered if she was watching her son, who was acting suspiciously.

Shaking off his mother’s watchful gaze, Youichi went to see Tomoki’s flowers.

Youichi’s room was a corner room on the first floor. Because he was an only child, the Western-style room with nearly eight tatami mats was leisurely used. However, as it also served as a training room, there was no carpet laid on the wooden floor, and there was as little furniture as possible.

Light red moth orchids that scattered a noble light above his desk greeted him in the empty room.

“Orchids…”

That Tomo, it’s not like he’s a perverted old man from Ginza (3)…

Youichi stared at the gorgeous, out-of-place potted plant.

For flowers, ordinary cut flowers were enough. No, it wasn’t like Tomoki to send flowers in the first place.

Youichi felt a strange uneasy as he read the included short message of “Congrats on the Olympics. Tomoki.” Though Reiji had said that Tomoki was acting strange before, he certainly wouldn’t be buying orchids in a normal state-of-mind.

Worried, that night he called Tomoki after waiting for the time when the MDC practice ended.

“The orchids arrived. Thanks. Because of you, I can live like a prince everyday.”

Although he tried to make a joke, the voice that responded was stiff.

“Sorry for doing this so late. I didn’t say anything about congratulating you yet, and I thought that I should do something, but I didn’t know what to do…I thought that since I’m congratulating you, I should give you flowers, so I talked with Hiro, checked on the internet, and moth orchids seemed like the fanciest, but…are they really fancy?”

“They’re definitely gorgeous. But weren’t they expensive?”

“It’s alright. Mom and Dad both pitched in half of the money.”

“So, you weren’t the one paying for them?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“…”

Tomoki’s voice didn’t have its usual brightness, and Youichi also wasn’t in a good mood, so their conversation quickly came to a standstill. Only Tomoki’s slow breathing could be heard from the receiver.

Right before Youichi, unable to bear the silence, was about say “bye” and hang up, a hoarse voice suddenly spoke up.

“Youichi-kun, why aren’t you coming to practice?”

“Under the influence of the moon, Leos shouldn’t go up to high places this week. Much less diving.”

“Well, are you coming next week?”

“…”

“Our club is hopeless without you. It doesn’t feel very proper…hey, are you coming next week?”

“Ask the stars.”

He lightly dodged the question, and hung up with a “bye.” Even after he turned off the phone, Youichi could still hear Tomoki’s ambitionless voice.

When he was still in elementary school, when Youichi won his second victory at the Junior Olympics, Tomoki was in even higher spirits than Youichi, and he had a high fever the next day. Every time Youichi won the Middle School Championships, he proudly raised his chest and boasted as though he was the one who had won.

This time’s Tomoki was a second-hand message and orchids.

Youichi didn’t have the head then to happily accept that gift.

Something was caught in his heart.

Like overextended claws.

Like broken glass.

Like scribbles on a desk.

Like a phone that only rang once.

Translation Notes

1. A tarento is a type of celebrity in Japan who appears on TV a lot, mostly on variety shows and such. Not really famous for any reason.

2. You all probably heard of Dazai Osamu, the great Japanese author, from Bungou Stray Dogs or somewhere else. He’s had a pretty “interesting” life (multiple suicide attempts, a bunch of different mistresses, etc.) You can read more about him on wikipedia

3. Apparently, there’s a lot of places in Ginza (district in Tokyo) where you can buy moth orchids for some reason

Next time on DIVE!!: The stars tell Youichi to stop fooling around and go back to practice.