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zenonaa · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Togami Byakuya, Fukawa Touko, Genocider Syo | Genocide Jack, Monokuma (Dangan Ronpa), Naegi Makoto, Class 78 (Dangan Ronpa) Additional Tags: Time Loop Summary: The morning after Monobear revealed their embarrassing secrets and hidden pasts, Togami wakes up back at the beginning of the same day. Over and over again. It might have something to do with Touko Fukawa.

Comments: I started this for tofu day but it got too long aha... but now it’s done!!! Thank you to everyone who read (most) of it over and to @otomegrandma for drawing the beautiful cover art. ;w; <3

***

The library in the mansion Byakuya Togami grew up in had been huge, spanning multiple floors all connected with steep, spiraling staircases. Maids regularly flitted in and out as they cleaned polished units housing books upon books upon books, and no dust particles were to be seen in the rays of natural light that flooded in during the daytime, or in the artificial breath of indoor lighting situated throughout the library.

One would expect the library at a prodigious, world-class academy to rival those of Byakuya’s childhood home or at least those in the other schools he attended growing up, yet the one that Byakuya stood in right now had no windows, and the little amount of light from the ceiling lamps bleared his vision with their lack of intensity. Dust speckled the air, adding to the illusion that he was staring at old movie footage, and the dreary shades of brown that made up most of the library’s colour scheme threatened to consume the person standing opposite him.

“As long as we’re in this place, no matter what happens, I won’t let Genocider Syo kill again,” promised Touko with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, training her wide eyes on Byakuya from behind round frame glasses. “T-Thank you, Togami-kun...!”

She dropped into a bow, but not before he glimpsed the corners of her lips quivering, teasing to curl upward. He averted his eyes, setting his gaze on the hand he had resting on the library desk. In a situation like this, where everyone in his class were locked in a school by a robotic bear mascot, enticed to murder each other to escape, he shouldn’t have taken his eyes off her for even a second. But he did.

“... Leave,” he said in a low voice, no louder than the sound of a page in a book rustling.

Byakuya saw movement at the edge of his vision, and then he heard her footsteps as she retreated. The door shut behind her with a respectful click, leaving him by himself.

Seconds crawled by. His fingers inched inward, dragging across the desk, to close his hand into a fist.

Just now, an interesting conversation had occurred. One of his opponents, Touko Fukawa, revealed to him that her body hosted an alter, and that alter was Genocider Syo. Yes. The serial killer. Touko had Dissociative Identity Disorder. She provided proof too - she showed him the scissors, the scars depicting the exact tally of victims on her thigh and a backstory that told him what picture the scattered jigsaw pieces in his hands were meant to create when they all joined together.

For many, many years, Byakuya pored over this case, determined to figure out the killer’s identity. In the end, it had been given to him in a school building caging them into a killing game by a girl with the name Touko Fukawa.

And she had given him a timer.

It was only a matter of time before that killer inside of her came out and tried to silence him, because now he knew her secret. If anyone else in the killing game found out about it, that would put her at a disadvantage. Syo wouldn’t be able to kill anyone without suspicion falling on her. She wouldn’t be able to win the game. Not only that, but like all of Syo’s victims, he was male. Even if Syo somehow didn’t know that he knew, she would be sure to target him regardless.

With people who had DID, alters didn’t always share memories. However, even if, for example, Touko couldn’t remember what happened while Syo fronted, that didn’t mean Syo had no awareness. He remembered reading that for some alters, they could observe while not fronting but they couldn’t do anything during this. Each system was unique, as was each alter and their capabilities.

And while Byakuya could always ask Touko if Syo remembered, Touko might not have known. Or even, she might lie. He couldn’t risk assuming the best.

Byakuya exhaled and took his heavy hand off the desk. Deciding to retire to his room earlier than first planned, his mind buzzing with too many thoughts to be able to concentrate, he returned the casefile he had been reading to the backroom - Genocider Syo’s, coincidentally - and left the library. He strode through empty corridors, descended down a silent staircase, but when he emerged into the dorm area, a grating voice blasted out of the speaker on a television screen hanging on a wall nearby.

Static distorted the image momentarily. When it cleared, Monobear’s face materialised.

“Ehhh, this is a school announcement. It will soon be Night Time,” deadpanned Monobear, like it did every night, and Byakuya shifted his weight, about to move on, but then, “Before that...”

He paused. Waited.

“... all students are required to attend a gathering at the school’s gymnasium!”

Monobear shuddered, and as it next spoke, its voice rippled with energy. Its body flailed.

“Emergency! Emergency!”

The screen snuffed out.

Byakuya blinked. His brow furrowed. Even though nothing remained on the black screen anymore, his gaze lingered on it for several more seconds before he changed direction. In order to enter the gymnasium, one had to cross through the trophy room. Upon arrival, he spotted some of his opponents dawdling, choosing not to go into the gymnasium yet, but he didn’t glance twice at any of them as he sauntered past. The rest of his classmates were waiting in the gymnasium, and within the next minute, those loitering outside dribbled in.

Only Monobear was missing now.

Everyone stood in silence for a while, exchanging creased looks and pallid faces as time wore on, until Kiyotaka raised a fist to his chin.

“Hmm... What does Monobear want with us this time, gathering us all in here so abruptly?” Kiyotaka pondered aloud.

A short distance away, Celes pursed her lips, standing with her fingers laced together in front of her.

“I also wonder what he’s up to,” she said. “It must be something important if it couldn’t wait until morning.”

Byakuya could have rolled his eyes at their stupidity. No one had died since Leon’s execution, which could only mean one thing. Much like the videos that Monobear gave out before, the robot had come up with another way to liven up the game and get things rolling again.

Simply put, Monobear wanted someone to commit murder.

He folded his arms over his chest. His lips twisted into a smirk. A chuckle tickled his throat.

“It seems our captor won’t let us grow bored after all,” remarked Byakuya.

The others turned their gazes to him. Hifumi fiddled with his glasses.

“Why are you always cackling? Can’t you put up a more pleasant smile? It’s like you’re about to kidnap my grandfather and put me through a series of death games,” bemoaned Hifumi.

That was a reference of some kind. Hifumi mopped his forehead with a handkerchief that had a cartoon character on it.

“For example, you could wear a smile like the one a certain housewife in that popular cartoon show flashes just before the ending credits,” Hifumi added. He tucked his crumpled handkerchief back into his pocket, still looking too hot.

That had also a reference of some kind. Normally, Byakuya would have scoffed at such a response, but he regarded Hifumi with his grin maintained. The game seemed to be about to become more interesting. Aoi looked around at everyone else before fixing a glare on Byakuya.

“He shouldn’t be laughing at all in this situation. What’s up with that?” Aoi asked.

No one answered. Her fists trembled. She almost got a proper laugh out of Byakuya but as fleetingly as it came, his good mood was starting to wane, and the ends of his lips dipped.

Honestly, other than Touko, only two of his classmates earned his attention: Kyouko, who sleuthed around and dealt with corpses with familiarity, and Makoto, who lit a spark in the previous trial. An ordinary guy like him... solving a case like that... was curious. As for the rest of them, they bored Byakuya, and even those three would bore him too sooner or later like everyone and everything else.

For once, Byakuya welcomed Monobear’s appearance, which spared him from more of their pathetic babble when it decided to finally spring out from nowhere to address them all. It stood on a podium, surveying the gymnasium with unblinking eyes, until it hung its head.

“Lately, I’ve been feeling down,” announced Monobear in a solemn tone. “My fur is thinning and losing its shine. I think it’s because of these monotonous days we’re slogging through.”

That practically confirmed Byakuya’s suspicions. He pushed up his glasses, watching Monobear as it slumped its shoulders further and heaved out a sigh.

“It’s way too boring here when no one is being killed. Therefore...” Monobear didn’t move right away. Then, it threw up its arms, suddenly energetic, and raised its voice. “... I’ve decided to treat you all to another motive!”

Most of the class tensed like Monobear had cracked a whip at them. Byakuya’s eyebrows rose, but his expression otherwise stayed as stony as before. Nearby, Kiyotaka shoved a foot forward and raised a fist.

“I don’t know what you’re scheming, but none of us are going to kill anyone ever again!” shouted Kiyotaka. He thumped his hand against his chest. “Do your worst! We won’t bend over to you!”

Monobear snickered behind its paws.

“Wow, if I could experience human emotions, I would be scared! Alas, I can only experience bear emotions.” Its red eye glinted as it brought a paw to its ear and leaned its head toward them. “We’ll see if you’re as brave as you’re acting very soon, because today’s theme is...”

It paused its speech as it vanished behind the podium. Moments later, it jumped back into view, brandishing a fan of envelopes with a different name on each one.

“Dadada! ‘Embarrassing memories’ and ‘secret pasts’!” crowed Monobear, and it held them higher. “Everyone has them. You, your neighbours, people you think you know everything about... They’re all things you don’t want anyone to know about. While you guys were sleeping, I read your minds, and here is what I came up with!”

Rather than hand them out, Monobear flung the envelopes onto the floor. Everyone approached hesitantly, like crossing through a minefield, and began searching for their name. Byakuya located his envelope and bent down to pick it up. He peeled it open and when he read the single sentence scribbled onto the paper slip inside of it, his breath caught in his throat. His grip buckled the bit of paper.

‘Togami-kun cheated his way into becoming the heir of his precious conglomerate.’

Surprised voices cropped up around him but he didn’t hear what any of them said, just the noise, as he stared down. Down at that piece of paper.

“The time limit is twenty-four hours,” announced Monobear, and when Byakuya tore his gaze away, he saw Monobear wearing a large, ugly grin.

Its expression never changed in general, but from its voice, from its body language, they could tell if its grin was genuine. And it was.

“If no one dies, I will tell everyone what is written down,” added Monobear, squeezing its cheeks as it squirmed with excitement. “I’ll send out letters to everyone you know. Publish them in magazines. Post them on popular message boards.”

Monobear tossed its head back and hacked up some wheezy laughter, clutching its stomach. Several pairs of eyes flitted over to Monobear’s quaking form. Makoto stared at Monobear with a frown, holding his envelope in both hands.

“Is that it?” he said in disbelief, which prompted Monobear to turn to him. It cocked its head to one side.

“Ain’t I a stinker?” asked Monobear.

“I mean, it’s embarrassing, but it wouldn’t make me kill anyone,” said Makoto.

It wiggled happily for a few more seconds until it realised what he had said. Then Monobear flinched.

“Eh?” went Monobear. Kiyotaka nodded fervently.

“Naegi-kun is right. It’s no problem at all. No one would kill because of a reason like this,” he informed it, waving his envelope.

Excitement seeped out of Monobear like air escaping a balloon as it slowly deflated.

“Wow, that’s so mean... I really thought I had something there,” it said. “Memories connect you to the outside world, and I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to find out. I put all my EXP toward learning to mindread and everything. I neglected my social life, and my wife divorced me and took the kids too, and for what?”

No one humoured it with an answer. Monobear turned away from them with its head bowed.

“Oh well,” it said, holding its paws behind its back. “In twenty-four hours, we’ll have circle time and share everyone’s secrets. That might cheer me up. Until then... Bye...”

And with that, Monobear hopped off the podium and shuffled away. No one said anything for a while. Most of the class returned their attention to their envelopes. Others looked around shiftily. Aoi scratched her chin, brow creased, her other hand grasping her envelope.

“You know, I was scared at first, but I think we’ve been let off easy this time,” she said, her lips quivering as they tried but failed to form a smile. “Naegi’s right... It’s embarrassing, but I won’t kill anyone over something like this.”

Byakuya was inclined to agree. People finding out what was written on his envelope would annoy him and be an invasion of his privacy, but them knowing wouldn’t change anything. After all, throughout the heir selection process, he had proven his worth to the conglomerate, and he continued to ever since then.

No, what got Byakuya was how Monobear knew about that. Monobear couldn’t have read his mind. That was impossible. Instead, it implied something more sinister. It knowing something like that required infiltrating the conglomerate. Someone betraying him. That got him.

Kiyotaka cleared his throat.

“In that case,” Kiyotaka put his hands on his hips, chin held high, “let’s just tell everyone what is written down right now. Then we don’t have to worry. I’ll start. My grandf-”

“I d-don’t want to hear anything embarrassing about you!” Touko snarled.

Her voice ripped through the air. Kiyotaka twitched and choked on his breath. Everyone wheeled around toward her. Touko stared forward, body shaking. Of course she was shaking. Byakuya knew what had to be in her envelope.

“Besides, I refuse. I don’t want to talk about mine!” she hissed. “Even if you try to force me to... I won’t say it!”

Celes bobbed her head in agreement.

“I agree,” she chimed in. “As much as I want to, I simply cannot.”

A chorus of voices rippled throughout the group as the class neared a consensus. Byakuya didn’t contribute, in thought. All he could hear in his head was a ticking. The ticking of a timer.

Now would be the perfect time to tell everyone about Genocider Syo. They were all here. Right now. He could tell everyone. Right now. Before she killed him.

So he did.

“Hold on,” he said, elevating a hand. “I have something to share with you all.”

Everyone turned to him. His features hardened.

“Earlier, Fukawa told me something. She told me... that she is Genocider Syo!”

He pointed at her. Everyone spun around to face her. Touko squawked, jumping back, and nearly dropped her envelope. She fumbled with it before hugging it to her chest. Then, one by one, the rest of the class returned their gazes to Byakuya.

“Fukawa?” Mondo said with a hard squint. He jogged his thumb toward her. “That girl?”

“Fukawa-chan can’t even stand blood,” scoffed Aoi. “She fainted when Enoshima-chan died, and she couldn’t look at Maizono-chan’s body either. How could she kill a bunch of people?”

Kiyotaka jerked his fist at him.

“That’s a ridiculous claim!” Kiyotaka concurred. Byakuya jutted out his chin, keeping his finger pointed at Touko.

“Read her secret. That will prove me right,” he said.

Touko shifted a foot back. However, no one stepped toward her. No one even looked at her. Makoto’s brow furrowed.

“That wouldn’t be fair on Fukawa-san,” he said. “Anyway, I don’t think that even makes sense.”

Celes placed a hand lightly over her lips, barely masking her amusement.

“That is because it doesn’t make sense.” She looked off to the side and now did a better job at smoothing out her features. “To me, it sounds like Togami-kun simply wants to embarrass Fukawa-san. What will happen is she will reveal her envelope and it will say something else, but she will be humiliated. How needlessly cruel... but also unsurprising.”

Byakuya jabbed the air. “She told me. She told me this!”

“I...” Touko gripped herself harder, caving in on herself. Her voice escaped her lips as a pathetic wisp, but it won the attention of the others, who craned their necks to peer at her. She hunched her shoulders. “... I d-didn’t...”

Aoi set a hand on her shoulder. “We know you didn’t. Togami’s just being a jerk to you. I don’t want to show mine either.”

“Me too,” piped up Chihiro. “I’m... I’m not strong enough yet...”

Kiyotaka bit his lip. Mondo tilted his head to one side.

“No one’s going to budge, Kyoudai. For now, we have to leave off it,” said Mondo.

“I guess...” Kiyotaka tried for a smile. Didn’t really succeed. It seemed ready to slip off at any moment. “We can talk about it tomorrow. I mean, no one is going to kill anyone over it, right...?”

That was the general consensus. Soon after, the group dispersed. While the others headed to the dorm area, Byakuya decided to go back to the library and read some more. After this new development, he didn’t feel ready to sleep. His mind was too busy, hard at work. Besides, he had to compile proof of what Touko said to him. With the new motive, Syo had more reason than ever to silence him before the time limit expired.

Once he arrived at the library, he made a beeline to the backroom, searching for the casefile again. He didn’t take long to find it - he found the casefile where he left it earlier. Like the main section of the library, the lighting in this room was poor too, and he could barely make out the text printed onto the front of the casefile.

As he adjusted the angle of it, the font glimpsed more legible, and something sharp pierced the back of his neck.

Pain exploded through his body like blood splattering. Byakuya let out a howl and stumbled forward, falling over some boxes and hurtling to the ground. He hit his chin on the edge of a shelf on the way down.

Above him, wide eyes behind round frame glasses stared down at him.

Touko.

No. She didn’t smile like that. Her tongue didn’t hang out of her mouth like that.

“I’ll scissor later!” she said, and she sounded like Touko, but she also didn’t, gruffer. Smirking. “Get it? Scissor? See ya? Because I stabbed you with my scissors!”

She flourished the silhouette of a pair of scissors. Black spots began to blot his vision. His muscles spasmed. He was helpless. Pain seared hot. Unbearably hot.

“My heart’s hurting real bad,” she said, sounding further away than she really was. She flicked her tongue. “You must have hurt Gloomy... and if you do that, I get so turned on!”

Her laughter shook his body. His whole vision faded to black, and his body didn’t weigh anything anymore.

***

Byakuya jolted awake. Darkness cloaked him and he tried to sit up, but his whole body refused to cooperate and tensed, rigid, like an invisible hand curled into a fist around him. All he could move were his eyes like flies trapped in a glass jar until finally his body thawed.

Then he sat up, aching all over, and hearing a familiar creak, he realised he was in his bed and not in the backroom at the library. Heart racing, he heaved himself to his feet. He staggered over to the light switch, turned it on, and felt his back before bringing his hand in front of him.

No blood.

All that must have been a dream. Yes. Byakuya had been reading a lot of casefiles, after all, especially that one about Genocider Syo, and it came together to make that mess of a dream. Obviously. Even if he couldn’t remember going to bed yesterday. That could be explained. He must have been too tired and forgotten what happened. Of course.

His hand closed into a fist.

Though Byakuya avoided the others at mealtimes, after what transpired last night with the motive, he had to admit he was curious how they coped... or more specifically, if they coped. Surely someone had a big enough secret that would drive them to kill.

For example, Touko did.

When Byakuya walked into the cafeteria, Kiyotaka and Mondo had their arms draped over each other’s shoulders, and they belted out laughter while their peers watched with wrinkled brows.

It seemed they had all got over their unease last night. Byakuya didn’t know what had caused those two to go from butting heads to palling around at some point, but at the same time, he didn’t care, and he walked toward the door to the kitchen.

“Male friendship is indeed different than female,” remarked Sakura. Sat next to her, Aoi released a sigh and faced her palms toward the ceiling.

“You can say that again.” She looked away from Mondo and Kiyotaka and caught sight of Byakuya, who by this point had almost made it the whole way across the cafeteria. Her tone sharpened. “Togami? What are you doing here?”

He opened the kitchen door and glanced over his shoulder at her. “I’m being held hostage here too. Do you remember?”

Aoi glowered.

“What about all that mean stuff you said about us poisoning your food?” she asked him.

“‘Mean’? Is that what you call it?” he retorted. He adjusted his glasses. “It’s called common sense. If you want to survive, you should try using some. Instead of playing friends, you should stay on your guard.”

“Ignore him,” said Mondo with a scowl, having since seated himself at a table with Kiyotaka. “He’s just trying to mess your head up.”

Aoi placed her hands either side of her head, like he meant it literally. At another table, Celes smirked, cradling a cup of tea.

“It seems the unkillable Togami-kun still needs to eat. If his food has been poisoned, I’m intrigued to see what will happen next,” Celes said, and though she talked about him, not to him, she watched him closely.

Byakuya refused to dignify her quip with a response and entered the kitchen. Metal worktops occupied the centre of the room, with bronze and silver pots and pans hanging overhead on ceiling units. To his right, boxes of various vegetables sat about, all out in the open so one could just pluck one out and help themselves. On the other side of the room, ingredients rested on shelves within a glass case, and nearby, a set of knives were pinned up on a wall, with different sizes for different uses, presumably.

The kitchen offered a range of options, but Byakuya prepared himself a bowl of cereal, unable to do much else. Normally, he would have a chef prepare his meals. Sometimes, in the morning, he would eat a French breakfast, and other times Japanese or Polish... but here, he didn’t have that choice, so cornflakes would suffice for the time being.

Of course, if he really wanted to, he could have taught himself to prepare more complex meals. In fact, he would do that today. When he finished eating by himself, he left his bowl by the kitchen sink and withdrew to the library.

Sticking to what he told himself, he browsed for a cookbook. Prior research into the school informed him that a Super High School Level Cook enrolled at the academy the year before, and the library would be the appropriate place to keep any cookbooks. Sure enough, he soon stumbled upon the section with them, mixed in with books on poisons. He plucked one cookbook off the shelf and sat down with it.

Today, he was in the mood for Beef Bourguignon. Once he found a recipe for it, he skimmed through it, and deeming it to his tastes, he grabbed some paper and a pen from the backroom and began making notes on what he would need. After he did that, he made a note of the page number and read through the rest of the cookbook for other ideas for meals.

It was as he had once said. Someone could poison their meals, so for his own sake, he needed to learn to prepare his own food. Not only that, but he needed to brush up on poisons and how to test for them.

The door creaked open. He didn’t look up, continuing to read a recipe for steamed mussels and white wine. By now, they should have realised he wanted nothing to do with them, yet just yesterday, Makoto had come here with Touko to bother him and now they were bothering him again. It had even been around this time when those two had wandered in, and Touko had come out with some nonsense about how she imagined him telling her to be controlled by a strong man.

“Um... Togami-kun?” said Makoto.

Great. That guy was talking to him. No, not great. Wrong word. Annoying. It seemed he hadn’t learned his lesson. Byakuya lifted his gaze, firing a glare at him, and noticed Touko hovering nearby in the background.

His jaw clenched. She stared at him, her mouth hanging open and a line of drool streaking her chin as she gripped the edge of a bookcase across the room. Their eyes met briefly, and as they crossed paths, his insides gave a quiver while she continued to shamelessly ogle him.

That had even been the same unit she had chosen to lurk behind yesterday. Byakuya jerked back his head.

“Are you serious?” he snapped. “Do you like the sound of my voice? I told you yesterday to leave me alone. You’re eyesores, the pair of you.”

Makoto cringed, but Touko drew forward, having been acknowledged even a slight amount and undeterred by his harsh tone. As she approached from out of the shadows, more of her details fleshed out. Her pale grey eyes, slim face, the purple tint under her eyes and the mole on her chin all bloomed into view. Byakuya watched her warily. To think this girl killed him in his imagination... this girl who stuttered, who never stood straight and whenever she made eye contact with anyone, looked ready to vomit.

She stopped a short distance away and swallowed, trembling faintly.

“Togami-kun...” Touko trailed off with a distant look on her face. He didn’t answer, but that didn’t discourage her. A smile tweaked her lips and she picked harder at her fingers. “Do you remember those words you said to me? ‘You should become a woman who doesn’t control weak men but is controlled by a strong man’...”

Byakuya gritted his teeth and struck his book against the desk. It only hit with a dull thud, but the other two recoiled.

“Do you take me for an idiot? You already tried this yesterday,” said Byakuya, heat rising to his face.

Touko blinked. “Eh?”

He let go of the book and jerked his hand, holding it aloft.

“It was literally yesterday you got Naegi to come in here with you to annoy me, and I told you then that I never said that. You even admitted to me that I never said that, and that you thought it was something I wanted to say,” said Byakuya.

His eyes bore into her. She stared back at him.

“What are you talking about?” asked Makoto, equally confused. “We didn’t come here together yesterday.”

“Is this a joke? You did. You both did,” said Byakuya. Makoto gestured to himself.

“Me? I think you’re the one that’s joking. I’m telling you, we didn’t. Not together,” Makoto said.

But they had. They had. They had to have had. He could remember it happening, yet he couldn’t spot any signs of a grin being fought down, or any telltale twinkles in their eyes. Their faces were painfully stupid but at the same time painfully honest.

He realised he was shaking slightly and stood up.

“Get out,” Byakuya said in a curt tone without raising his voice, and without looking at either of them in the eyes. “My patience has worn thin. And you... Fukawa. Go take a shower. You reek.”

She clasped her hands together.

“I-If that’s what you want, you only have to say,” she told him. Byakuya waved a hand at her like swatting a fly.

“I did. Yesterday. Now get out of my sight!” He thrust his finger toward the door. “The whole room stinks of your stench. It’s making me nauseous.”

Touko yelped, slapping her hands over her mouth, but did as he asked, shuffling away with Makoto following her out shortly after. When the door closed, Byakuya raked his fingers through his hair, his other hand supporting his weight as he pressed it down on the desk. A few seconds later, he sank back onto his chair, and he thought. He thought a lot.

Maybe his dream hadn’t been as similar to what just happened as he thought. Maybe he misremembered the dream, and after this happened in real life, what he thought he remembered from the dream were gaps that he filled in later with this experience. Otherwise, he dreamed something that ended up happening, which wasn’t impossible. Just unlikely.

Still, he couldn’t shake off the sense of uneasiness that coated his skin in a prickling film.

To his relief, no one bothered him for the rest of the day. After dinner, again eaten by himself and consisting of a simple salad and cold cuts, he went back to the library and settled down with Genocider Syo’s casefile, much like the night before.

Because the library didn’t have any windows, as time wore on, the lighting remained unhelpful in informing him how late it was. However, the night time announcement hadn’t sounded when a crawling sensation crept under his skin.

Someone was watching him. He looked up and saw Touko hiding behind a bookcase with only part of her head poking out. The sight tripped him up for a moment. In his dream, she had been lurking there. A coincidence. Even so, he kept his guard up, not taking his eyes off her.

“Oi,” he said. She jumped, like her puppeteer pulled her strings taut. “I know you’re there. Get out.”

Touko slipped out from behind the bookcase, but instead of leaving, she approached him. Her feet dragged across the floor. Messy hair restrained in braids framed her pale face, which housed light eyes that didn’t quite meet his gaze. The awful lighting painted shadows like bruises on her and tinted her skin in its subdued shades. She wrung her hands together, biting down on her lip, and as she stationed herself the centre of his vision, he realised he had witnessed this very sight before, in his dream.

Byakuya sat up straighter. Touko forced herself to meet his unrelenting gaze and trembled, but she didn’t crumble away.

“Togami-kun... can I ask you something?” she said, her voice barely carrying over the short distance between them.

He leaned back in his seat. Eyed her.

“What is it?” he asked. Touko folded her arms into her sides.

“You know Genocider Syo?” she said.

Her words chimed in his ears. He stiffened. This was just like his dream.

“The others wondered if that murderer... that monster... was in the school,” she told him, hunching her shoulders, wringing her hands together.

So was that. She had said those exact words in it too. He gulped. Steadied himself.

“So?” he said quietly. “What’s your point?”

“That person... They’re in the school right now. I know this for a fact,” she said.

No.

“It’s true,” she said, even though he hadn’t said anything. She squared her shoulders. “It’s because...”

And like in the dream, she pointed at herself, and she said,

“... because she’s inside of me.”

Byakuya gaped at her. She must have taken his silence as disbelief because she began explaining herself, like she needed to. Like she hadn’t said this in his dream, word-for-word.

“We share a body. She was created when I was younger... created from an accumulation of abuse and pressure...”

Everything she said...

“... Each day I fear she will come out and strike again. And that... that she will kill again, and in this awful place...”

... she already told him...

“I don’t want to die. But most importantly... I don’t want her to kill you!”

... in his dream.

Touko stared at him. Byakuya stared back. His mouth turned dry. She went on to show him the scars on her left thigh and her holster of scissors on her right. Like in the dream. He tore his eyes away from her scars. Sought her gaze.

“Where do I come into all this?” he asked, straining his tone so it came out hushed, controlled. Like he wasn’t unnerved. Its gravellness buried his waver.

“With your help, I can try to keep her inside. If I can’t abolish her, I can at least stop her. If I can... be with you... I can stop her,” she said. “You can give me the strength to stop her. I just need you to promise me you won’t tell... and that you’ll help me.”

Byakuya pushed up his glasses and with his heart beating faster, he turned his head away. Really, now that she had told him, neither had any choice. Touko couldn’t take back what she said, and he couldn’t wipe away from his memory what he had heard. They were in a house of cards, leaning on the other, and if one were to fall, so would the other. Her secret would be exposed. He would have to be silenced.

He lowered his hand from his glasses.

“All right,” he said, and he turned back to her. “I promise.”

The corners of her lips quivered, teasing to curl upward. Byakuya looked down, setting his eyes on the hand he had resting on the library desk.

“As long as we’re in this place, no matter what happens, I won’t let Genocider Syo kill again,” Touko gushed. “T-Thank you, Togami-kun...!”

His eyes narrowed.

“... Leave,” he said.

A beat passed, and then he heard her footsteps as she retreated. The door shut behind her with a respectful click, leaving him by himself.

Byakuya planted both of his hands against the desk. Thoughts whirled around in his head, but he couldn’t focus on any of them. They combined to fill him with noise. Was he dreaming again? He had to be dreaming again. And this time, it was lucid.

Therefore, if he waited long enough, then...

The television screen positioned on the wall began to hiss with static, and sure enough, Monobear’s face appeared on it.

“Ehhh, this is a school announcement. It will soon be Night Time,” deadpanned Monobear, right on time. “Before that... all students are required to attend a gathering at the school’s gymnasium.”

Monobear sprung to life and thrashed its arms around. Even its wild movements were the same as in Byakuya’s dream.

“Emergency! Emergency!” it shouted.

And then the screen snuffed out.

Byakuya peeled his palms off the desk. His pace didn’t falter as he took wide strides, as he left the library, as he walked through different corridors, and he only stopped when he arrived in front of the podium where Monobear would appear. The others spilled into the gymnasium behind him. He didn’t look away from the podium.

For a while, everyone stood in silence, until Kiyotaka raised a fist to his chin.

“Hmm... What does Monobear want with us this time, gathering us all in here so abruptly?” said Kiyotaka.

A short distance away, Celes pursed her lips, standing with her fingers laced together in front of her. “I also wonder what he’s up to. It must be something important if it couldn’t wait until morning.”

Unlike last time, Byakuya didn’t say anything, watching the podium while the others talked amongst themselves. Monobear soon emerged from behind the podium, and it regarded them with its shiny, lifeless eyes.

“It’s way too boring here when no one is being killed. Therefore... I’ve decided to treat you all to another motive!” Monobear declared, arms raised up high as it recited the exact same speech as before.

Kiyotaka shunted a foot forward. Anger twisted his features into the same shape as last time.

“I don’t know what you’re scheming, but none of us are going to kill anyone ever again!” He pounded his hand against his chest. “Do your worst! We won’t bend over to you!”

Monobear tilted its head to one side.

“Wow, if I could experience human emotions, I would be scared!” Monobear remarked. “Alas, I can only experience bear emotions. We’ll see if you’re as brave as you’re acting very soon, because today’s theme is...”

It reached behind its back, and moments later, it revealed its paw, brandishing the envelopes that contained their hidden secrets.

“... ‘Embarrassing memories’ and ‘secret pasts’!” Monobear waved them about like an owner trying to get their dog to perform a trick. “Everyone has them. You, your neighbours... people you think you know everything about... They’re all things you don’t want anyone to know about. While you guys were sleeping, I read your minds, and here is what I came up with!”

Monobear tossed out the envelopes, and everyone wandered over to get theirs. Byakuya glanced over his envelope, turning to Touko, who was still searching for hers on her hands and knees. If he showed everyone her envelope said she was Genocider Syo, they wouldn’t be able to brush it aside like last time.

Even though this was only a dream so it had no actual real life consequences, he would know what happened and that was enough for him. He needed to do things right, so he looked around and when he spotted hers, he pounced.

“H-Hey! That’s mine!” Touko shouted as he picked it up.

Ignoring her, he straightened up and started to open it. Touko threw herself at him and clawed at his hands. He gritted his teeth and shoved her off with his shoulder, but by this point, Sakura had closed in on him. She snatched the envelope from Byakuya and glared down at him.

“Togami, you cretin,” Sakura growled. “How dare you assault Fukawa like that! Have you no shame?”

Touko whimpered behind Sakura, cradling her right hand. Mondo grabbed Byakuya’s shirt and hoisted him closer so they were face to face. Noses almost touching. Byakuya could feel the heat radiating off Mondo’s face. Almost taste his sweat.

“Are you out of your mind?” cried Makoto, scrambling up to them, but he wasn’t talking to both of them. He stared at Byakuya. “Togami-kun, what the hell is your problem?”

Sakura held the envelope too high for Byakuya to reach, and even in a dream, Byakuya didn’t fancy his chances against Sakura Oogami and Mondo Oowada. He tried willing Sakura to give it to him, but she remained resolute. She didn’t so much as quiver.

“That girl, she told me minutes ago that she was Genocider Syo,” said Byakuya, pointing at the person in question, and Touko shrieked, throwing up her arms in front of her defensively. “She told me she lives in fear of the serial killer inside of her, who may kill again.”

Blinks scattered across the faces gawking at them.

“Geno-what now?” said Hifumi, on the verge of biting his knuckles.

“Genocider Syo,” Celes corrected grimly. She looked into space like there was a camera there. “We talked about her earlier, by the way.”

Chihiro squeezed their hands together.

“You mean the serial killer? B-But...” Chihiro shuddered and hunched their shoulders. “... Fukawa-san can’t even stand the sight of blood. How can she be that murderer?”

“It’s... It’s not true,” said Touko, trembling. “My... My envelope... contains a humiliating secret... that if anyone knew, I would drop dead...”

Everyone’s eyes flitted about, flickering between Byakuya and Touko. Between a cruel man who seemed to revel in a game that encouraged murder and where one had to kill to escape, who boasted how he would be the one to survive to the end and didn’t care about hurting the feelings of the likes of Chihiro and Touko or anyone else, unfiltered and cold, and a woman who stuttered and fidgeted and stared at them all like a wild animal caught in the beam of headlights in the middle of the night. Unfiltered, cold as well, with a persecution complex.

Makoto fixed his eyes on Byakuya.

“Togami-kun... you really are too cruel,” said Makoto on behalf of the class.

“Barbarian!” Hifumi sneered, balling his hands into fists. “Harming women is unacceptable! My hair is going to turn yellow at any moment.”

Byakuya breathed loudly. His nails dug into his fists.

“We should tie him up,” said Mondo. He stretched out his arm, holding Byakuya further away from him. “I don’t trust that bastard to leave our sight, even for a second.”

“After such behaviour, I think that may be for the best,” said Sakura. She turned her back on Byakuya. “Come, Fukawa. I will walk you to your dorm.”

And so the rest of the class separated, but not before slinging scathing looks at Byakuya on their way out. The only one who didn’t was Celes, who flashed him an amused grin before quickening her pace. Mondo hardened his hold on Byakuya.

“Oi, Hagakure,” barked Mondo. “Grab me some rope and take it to my room.”

Yasuhiro stopped walking and swiveled around.

“Can do!” said Yasuhiro with a salute.

Mondo dragged Byakuya to his own dorm, not letting go even as they waited inside. Soon, Yasuhiro arrived, and the duo tied Byakuya to a chair. Yasuhiro offered a wave before leaving them alone. When the door closed, Mondo put his hands on his hips, but only for a few seconds. Then he sat on the bed and took off one of his white loafers. Byakuya glowered.

“You fool,” said Byakuya. “You don’t - ”

Before he could finish, Mondo stuffed a sock into Byakuya’s mouth.

“That’s ‘cause I can’t stand the sound of your voice,” said Mondo.

Byakuya gagged and tried spitting it out, but that just prompted Mondo to push it back in so he stopped. Mondo grinned.

“That’s better,” he said.

The ropes restricted all of Byakuya’s movements, so Byakuya could only sit still and survey his surroundings. Large flags with golden text about the Crazy Diamonds decorated the room, one against the bed, another across the desk and three hanging from the ceiling in the walkway. He cast them no more than a cursory glance, uninterested in learning anything about the gang Mondo belonged to. Nor did he care about the gritty manga spread out on the bed or the hair products across the room.

Mondo strayed from him only to lock the door, and then he sat back down on his bed. He grabbed a manga, crossed one leg over the other and started reading in silence. Byakuya tried to shimmy. The ropes didn’t slacken.

For a while, only the rustle of a page turning and the occasional cough broke the silence, until they heard a knock on the door. Mondo set down his manga and got to his feet, crossing the room with large strides. He disappeared from sight as he reached the door, but Byakuya heard Mondo open it.

“Fukawa?” said Mondo. “What are...?”

Mondo cried out in pain, and Byakuya tensed, hearing a loud thump as Mondo stumbled into a wall and collapsed. Byakuya widened his eyes and tried breaking out of his restraints. Seconds later, he saw the braids. He saw the glasses. The sailor fuku. But he also saw the tongue, the scissors and the light dancing in her eyes as she turned to him, standing across the room from him.

“Here’s Johnny!” Syo called out.

Byakuya couldn’t move. With a grin, she raised her scissors, and Byakuya could do nothing as she pumped him full of metal.

***

He woke up in his bed, paralysed. At first, he thought he was still tied up, but when he could move again, he thrashed and discovered he was entangled in his bed sheets, not ropes. His heart burned and when he finally laid his hand over his chest, it felt wet. Barely able to breathe, Byakuya staggered to the bathroom and tore off his shirt, staring at his chest in the mirror.

No blood. No wound. No incision. Just sweat. A lot of sweat. He left his room.

In the cafeteria, a familiar scene greeted him.

“Male friendship is indeed different than female,” remarked Sakura as she stared at Mondo and Kiyotaka.

Mondo was very much not dead. On the contrary, he laughed loudly, pressing hips with Kiyotaka.

Aoi heaved a sigh, resting her chin in her hand. “You can say that again.”

Without being noticed, Byakuya returned to his room and started pacing. He carved a mark onto the table then paced some more.

This time, he didn’t push it when he tried telling everyone about Genocider Syo, but rather than go to the library, he watched Touko slink into her room before retiring to his one, and for the rest of the night, he stayed there, even when he heard his doorbell fitting. He tried to stay awake, sitting on the edge of his bed, but weariness still overcame him and he passed out.

When he awoke, he was in his bed still, but the notch in the table was gone. Byakuya pushed hair from his eyes and went to the bathroom to shower, and as he removed his shirt, he noticed marks on his arm by his wrist. Like scars.

Three of them, to be precise.

Three tally marks.

#togafuka #Touko Fukawa #Byakuya Togami #danganronpa #Dangan Ronpa #fanfiction #turn the music up

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blancheludis · 5 years

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A/N: @iron-man-bingo square: Stony Accidental Marriage

Fandom: Marvel Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton Tags: Accidental Marriage, Las Vegas, Love at First Sight, Drunk People, Humor, Fluff Words: 2.144 Sequel: Till Death Do Us Part (Complete)

Summary: Steve is drunk and falls in love head over heels with Tony. Marriage is the logical next step. Now, if only the wedding night would never end so they won't have to wake up.

---

Steve is drunk. The feeling is all the more exhilarating for how seldom it happens. He does not drink, usually, not enough to make his steps unsteady and his vision wonky. He is sensible. Most often, he volunteers to be the designated driver and everybody is happy to leave him to his sorry sober state to go and have fun themselves. They are in Las Vegas, though, and do not have a car with them. They left that at home right along with all their common sense.

“We need to celebrate,” Bucky had said, one arm around Steve’s shoulders and a wicked grin on his face, already planning their downfall.

“And you’re going to buy all our drinks,” Clint had added, not one to let these opportunities pass by unused, “since you’re going to be all famous and rich soon.”

“There’s not going to be so many drinks,” Steve had answered, but was too busy hiding his blush to properly chide them.

He is not going to be famous. Just because one gallery decided to put some of his pictures up for their next exhibition does not mean that their frugal life is over. Somewhere around the fourth drink, though, Steve begins to believe his friends that it might. Slowly, he stops worrying about the bills he needs to pay and the paintings he has to finish and the two jobs he has to struggle.

Being drunk pushes all of that away, wrapping him in a comfortable bubble where he is not afraid of anything. Not of failure, not of success, not of his art being out there for anyone to see.

The music seems to seep right into his bones, making his limbs move out of their own volition. He dances and laughs and drinks anything his friends put into his hands. They are here to look after him. He is safe.

The club is a dump. The lights are low. There are too many people crowding the dancing floor. Steve is sure no one here has ever even heard about fire safety regulations. Nobody cares either. And the more he loses himself in the feeling of being alive, the less Steve cares about that too.

Midnight must have long come and gone, but time does not matter here. Steve’s friends are somewhere. They loosely orbit each other in the club, meeting up every now and then only to disappear into the crowds again. Still, Steve is not afraid of losing them. Not here. Not with how pleasantly removed he feels from all his fears.

The sight of the man in the middle of the dance floor hits him like bludgeoning hammer right to the chest. All the lights and music and energy of the club seems to pale compared to this one man’s grace. He is short but appears larger than life. His skin is glowing under the artificial light. His hands, weaving through the air, are calling for Steve to come closer. And Steve, uninhibited by his usual reservations about strangers, feels himself drawn in.

His steps are not quite steady anymore, but he walks towards the man as if he holds his salvation, dodging bodies, eyes fixed on his target. From up close, the man is even more beautiful. Dark eyes, bright smile framed by an elaborate goatee. Steve’s fingers itch to draw him, to catch the swirl of pure energy around him.

The man does not stop his movements when he notices Steve’s stare, but his smile widens, gets a bit cocky. It is a challenge. Tonight, Steve feels like he could meet any challenge thrown at him.

“I like the way you dance. The colours all swirl around you,” Steve tells the man and reaches out with his hand, hoping to catch some of that brilliance for himself. “Wanna teach me?”

“Only if you catch me if I fall,” the man answers. There is something like humour in his voice but Steve nods, entirely honest. He is not the best at saving people but that does not mean he will stop trying.

He never notices the man move, but then their hands are intertwined and Steve is pulled close enough to the man to steal his breath.

They dance. Hours seem to fly by in which the lights never dim and the music never stops pushing their heartbeat to go faster. All of it seems to seep right into Steve’s skin and then push out in waves, pulling him this way and that. They share some drinks but Steve is not drunk on alcohol anymore but on the exhilarating feeling of sharing space with this man – Tony, as he had whispered into Steve’s ear.

If Steve were sober, he would never manage to move this way, but here and now it is the most natural thing in the world. Tony and he circle each other in perfect synchronicity.

They gather an audience at some point, pulling the entire club into their orbit. Steve is not sure whether his friends are still there, but they told him to live a little, to have fun. He is sure he has never been more alive than here, in Tony’s arms.

“You are perfect,” Tony tells him when they take a break at the bar, clutching a drink in one hand and Steve’s arm in the other.

“We should marry,” Steve exclaims, nodding with more enthusiasm than he has been able to muster for anything in a long time. “You and I. So nothing will ever separate us again.”

They are so close, Steve does not think anything could come between them. Still, it is the best idea he has ever had. Better than going out in the first place. Better than letting Tony pull him on the dance floor. Eternity should frighten Steve, but Tony is so bright next to him that he thinks he will never be afraid of anything again.

“That’s a great idea,” Tony hums, leaning even closer. “Then you can show me what else you can do with those hands.”

Their hands are intertwined again, and Steve thinks about paint, about having to touch every inch of Tony’s skin to be able to copy it on paper. Then he thinks about tracing Tony’s lips, about kissing.

“But where?” Steve asks with sudden desperation. He does not want anything to come between him and Tony.

“This is Vegas, hon,” Tony says, his voice alone is enough to soothe Steve. “Everything is either a chapel or a casino. Some are both.” He lets go of Steve to get a wallet out of his jacket and puts some bills on the bar. Before Steve knows it, Tony is touching him again. “Come on, practice your vows. I’m getting us a cab.”

They end up in a cab with two strangers. “Witnesses,” Tony tells him and Steve is glad that he has Tony to remember these things. He briefly wonders whether he should not tell his friends that he is all right, ask them to come to the most important night of his life. He has not seen them in a while, though, his eyes too fixed on Tony. They can have a proper celebration afterwards.

The cab driver lets them out at the first chapel he finds. It is a small thing, drab and dark, not at all a place Steve ever imagined himself marrying in. As soon as Tony steps into it, it begins to glow, however, made holy by his presence alone.

Someone gets them a priest, who appears tired but not surprised. He looks at them strangely but smiles back at Steve. Happiness is infectious, after all.

The ceremony itself is over very quickly. Steve can barely remember what they said or did, too mesmerized by Tony. By his smile and his hands and the way he holds himself. Tony’s hands are beautiful, more so even than his eyes. Calloused and scarred and yet so very careful, so very sure about every movement they make. Steve could watch them for hours and never get bored.

“You can now kiss,” Steve hears the priest say through his daze.

He looks at Tony and knows that Tony is only looking at him too. Without a word, they are leaning closer, melting into each other’s warmth, their heartbeats mingling.

When their lips touch, the world feels right for the first time in years. All of Steve’s worries and problems fall away as he lives only in this moment. He wishes it would never end. Tony tastes of excitement, the fulfilment of dreams.

When they break apart, Steve feels like Tony is taking a part of him with him.

“We should have our wedding night now,” Tony says. They are still so close that it feels like they are one. “Like, right now.”

When Steve looks up, the priest is gone and their two witnesses are making out on one of the benches. It is almost like only Tony and he are left in the world, and Steve would not mind it at all if that were the truth.

“We’re in a chapel,” Steve points out miserably, even though a voice in the back of his mind says that this is not exactly a refusal.

“It’s more like the backstage room of a seedy bar,” Tony protests, his gaze full of intensity. “We’re surely not the first.”

Steve snorts, fighting the need to get his hands all over Tony right now. “But we deserve better,” he argues, sounding not so sure about that himself. “We need to dance and we can only do that in a bed.”

For a moment, Steve is afraid his words will not make sense for Tony, but Tony only nods like that is exactly what he thought too.

“I have a bed,” Tony says, full of eagerness. “Let’s see whether that cab is still waiting.”

The cab is not, in fact, still waiting, but they simply hold onto each other’s hands and start walking. The whole world feels so small now that they are together to fill it. The walk is exhilaratingly liberating. They talk and they dance right there on the sidewalk, and when the light behind Tony’s movements fades a bit, they get a new bottle of something that burns as it slides down Steve’s throat.

He has not felt this weightless in years. Also, he has a husband now to make life easier. In sickness and in health.

By the time they reach the hotel, they cannot keep their hands off each other. Tony’s lips are so insistent that they barely make it to the elevator. From there, Steve cannot say at all how they make it to Tony’s room.

He is glad they did, though, because Tony’s bed is huge and soft and when Steve lets himself fall onto the mattress, he whoops when he is thrown up into the air again.

“This is amazing,” Steve says, full of bliss. “Come try it.”

Tony stands at the end of the bed, looking down at him with a smile that Steve knows only too well. It is the kind that questions how he got so lucky to end up here. It is the kind that speaks of the sheer happiness to be alive in this moment. He cannot believe someone is looking at him like that.

“If you think that is amazing, tonight will blow your mind.”

Steve nods, slightly impatient. Everything Tony does will be amazing. He rocks on the bed. “Let me blow yours first.”

When his own words register, Steve dissolves into giggles and then outright laughter when he sees Tony’s baffled face.

“Come on,” he beckons, “I don’t make empty promises.”

Without any hesitation, Tony lets himself fall right into Steve’s arms. Together they bounce a bit, laughing louder.

“You’re perfect,” Tony hums, snuggling deeper into Steve’s embrace. “Let’s marry.”

“We already did that, husband,” Steve says. “Now, stop talking before our wedding night is over.”

In response, Tony places a trail of kisses up Steve’s neck and over his jaw to his lips. Each one makes the fire inside Steve grow, makes his more sure that he has made the best decision of his life tonight.

“Let’s never wake up,” Tony whisper against Steve’s lips. “Real life is so exhausting.”

Tony sounds tired and Steve cannot have that. They are supposed to be happy forever. “I have a better plan,” he says with all the determination he can muster, “let’s just not sleep. Then we don’t have to worry about waking up.”

Propping himself up on his elbows, Tony hovers over Steve and looks down at him. The smile is back on his face and that is, once again, the only thing that counts in the world, leaving no place for worry.

“Deal,” Tony says.

They kiss, and Steve has never been more excited for forever to come.

---

This has a sequel (because they do have to wake up at some point): Till Death Do Us Part

#iron man bingo 3000 #stony #accidental marriage #las vegas #wedding #idiots in love #humor #fluff #drunk #my writing #ao3 #fanfiction #steve rogers #tony stark #no powers

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clansayeed · 4 years

Text

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 7: Two Wrongs End in a Fight

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Sometimes good intentions aren’t enough. Sometimes no matter what there are always consequences to your actions.

WARNING: This chapter contains graphic violence.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Even on opposite sides of the ring the Minotaur makes Cadence look almost comically small. Which is saying something for this height.

They circle one another; complete opposites. The Minotaur either doesn’t understand or doesn’t care that its opponent has changed. It beats hulking fists against it’s chest and lets out deep, intimidating huffs and snorts of it’s large bull head. Even with the metal between them those who end up behind the beast on the outside back off for their safety.

But it’s tactics aren’t working on the stony-faced vampire — it can tell. Ends up roaring louder and louder, so loud Taylor has to cover his ears with his palms and it still hurts.

On the outside Ryder pushes his way to Katherine with Taylor in tow. Growls out in a low breath; “What the fuck does he think he’s doing? He’s gonna get us all killed.”

Katherine snorts. “You’re not the one in the cage, Nik.”

“That may be but I gotta get the wolves outta here. Like, now.”

“Or what?” It’s enough to wrench her eyes away from the fighters and their posturing.

“I don’t know and I don’t wanna find out. But if Kristof’s boys find us…”

“Shit, he actually sent Pack into town?” Ryder nods and her grip tightens on the cage links. “Well — I — I can’t leave him, Ryder. Not now, especially.”

And if that’s his intention Taylor wants to stop that shit right quick. Grabs onto Ryder’s shoulder.

“We’re not leaving. Not until he’s out of that cage.”

“Stay outta this, Taylor. It ain’t your business.”

“Maybe not. But I don’t want to… I mean if we could help…”

Katherine throws him back a look. “You want to help?”

“Of course.”

“Then pick a god and pray.”

If Cadence is looking for any sign of an opening or weakness — the audience decides he isn’t allowed the luxury. One brave soul, pushed forward by other less-brave souls, jumps at the cage right as the Minotaur turns its back to him — slams his fists and rattles the metal with ferocity.

“Get to the fuckin’ fight!” he rages.

The Minotaur scrapes a hoof against the concrete — and charges.

The vampire dives away an inch too late — cries out when a strong hand wraps around his ankle and throws him across the cage like a ragdoll.

There was a phase Taylor went through early into his transition where he tried (the operative word) getting into things all young American boys are supposed to be into; cars, gym memberships, wrestling. None of them ever stuck — wrestling the most of all. There were healthier ways to work out aggression than mindlessly beating someone else to a pulp. Didn’t matter if it was ‘all staged’ or not. He’s not a fan of violence.

So when he watches those nearest where Cadence falls whoop and cheer and scream in his fallen face it takes everything inside of him not to look away in disgust.

Cade flips his messy hair out of his eyes — reaches to wipe blood from his temple with the back of his hand but only succeeds in smearing it into his locks. He tries to jump to his feet but can’t — lets out a cry and crumples to his knees favoring the right side.

“Get up!”

“Pathetic!”

“Someone bring in the wolf!”

Katherine looks ready to threaten a jeering woman next to her but instead uses her clenched fist to bang against the metal. “Come on, Cade! Set it and get up!”

And Taylor’s sure he’s not the only wide-eyed watcher as, as though she commanded it of him, the vampire stands and hammers his fist into his knee. Puts it back into place judging by the way he tests out the joint.

The Minotaur doesn’t take the time to relish its victory. Charges again but this time Cade’s ready — this time he’s waiting. This time he slides between the hairy hooves rather than trying to move aside and spins in the dirt to kick the beast in the lower back.

The Minotaur falls with a strangled noise. Catches its horns on the cage and wrestles itself out with mindless rage before whirling around and swiping its lowered head like a skilled swordsman would his blades.

Like they’re moving to the chants and calls for blood and gore as music, Cadence and the Minotaur dance around one another for what feels like forever. Every blow the creature lands is quickly healed on the vampire with only streaks of blood and torn clothes a reminder they happened at all. And while Cadence’s attacks on the Minotaur seem calculated and with intent they might as well be near misses.

But the Minotaur is smart. Smarter than it looks. And rather than letting Cadence form a gap between them to recover from a hook to the jaw it charges again, horns prone, and sinks deep into the meat of the vampire’s side before tearing away.

“CADENCE!”

Without even so much as a cry of pain he staggers back. Everyone else backs away; treats his wound like a plague rather than one made of their own selfishness and greed. Everyone but Katherine. Who struggles to try and fit her fingers through the gaps in the links. Like sheer force of will will press her through the space occupied by something else and bring her to him.

He collapses on his knees; she mirrors him without thinking. This time it’s Taylor who holds back Ryder from trying to pry her away. In retrospect he’s probably just concerned for Kathy’s safety around a wounded — no doubt starving — vampire. But something about the moment in front of them screams not to be interrupted.

Katherine’s hair obscures Cade’s face — so close they could be locked in a passionate kiss. He clutches to the hole in his side and his time the blood doesn’t stop flowing. Just another coat and color added to the already decorated concrete.

Taylor’s eyes fixate on the white-knuckled grip onto which the vampire holds the fence. Could swear it looks like the links in the rusting chain metal are starting to groan and bend under the pressure. Catches his rasping voice only because the anticipation of the inevitable kill and continued victory streak for their champion has his fans silent; practically on the edge of orgasm.

“Something’s happening, Kathy—”

Cade’s whisper sounds like a scream in his ears.

Katherine slowly — hesitantly — places her hand over his.

“Don’t fight it. Let it swallow you whole.”

“Let it…?”

“Swallow you whole, Cadence. Become it.”

“I — no — what if —”

“If you don’t you’ll die in here. And then you’ll never know the truth. You don’t want that.” And when he doesn’t respond; “I told you I’d be your last. Don’t make me a liar.”

Taylor wants to pull them apart. Feels somehow like the advice she’s giving is inherently bad — filled with unknowns and secrets he’s not privy to and probably for good reason.

There’s a fraction of a second where it looks like he’s given up — made a liar out of her anyway. But when Cadence pulls back and catches Taylor’s eye over the huntress’ shoulder he realizes almost too late how wrong he is.

Too late for him, for Ryder, for Katherine… Definitely too late for the Minotaur. Because it looked at first like this fight was going to be man versus beast. But the thing trapped in the cage isn’t a man at all. He isn’t a man at all.

He grins mouthy and fanged like he can read Taylor’s thoughts. Something cocky and righteous; no trace of the previous pain.

The tense rope of silence finally snaps to thunderous applause when the Minotaur goes in for the kill. Yanks Cadence back like it’s just going through the motions of the finish of the fight. Picks him up and hauls the smaller form over his head to let it shatter on the ground.

Only he doesn’t. He never collides with the floor.

Instead lands nimbly on his feet; dusts himself off like there isn’t a hole of gore in his side and his shirt isn’t half torn off. Takes the stunned expression on the Minotaur’s face to right himself with a gentlemanly scrutiny.

The shock wears off quickly — literally shaken aside with a huff of displeasure and confusion and twitching bull’s ears. It doesn’t know what happened. And for once it isn’t alone. But it knows so little about the world — knows only what it’s been made to do.

So it does what it does best. It charges.

The hoof raises but Cade’s already across the ring. Several jabs to the chest of the beast; ribs and around the back to the spine. Just like before, Taylor realizes — perhaps too late, only somehow different.

Before a hit sent the Minotaur stumbling. Now it doesn’t take a goblin’s heightened hearing to catch the crunch and crack of the broken spine that follows.

Over and over he moves faster than the Minotaur — and the crowd — can see. Too fast for his body to heal; judging by the cage-front watchers and the flecks of blood on their faces and fancy coats. If Taylor didn’t know better — and who knows, maybe he doesn’t — he’d swear the vampire is enjoying his victory. Playing with the Minotaur like a toy.

Prolonging the inevitable.

In a final violent act a white-knuckled grip grabs on a horn and yanks hard enough to throw the entire weight of the creature off-kilter. A fallen feather in a hurricane.

The Minotaur lies in a slowly growing pool of its own blood. Spreading into the grooves left by charing hooves and fallen opponents and pooling in an abstract tale of the first and only defeat. The metallic smell is awful; pungent. Makes Taylor feel nauseous.

He’s pretty sure even Minotaurs shouldn’t be able to bend their arms the opposite direction at the elbow.

And in the corner; Cadence. The broken horn a trophy of victory in his grasp.

He stepped into the cage to try and right a wrong — Taylor understands that. But now… now he’s not so sure what’s left standing. What did Katherine do to him?

An unnerving silence ripples out from the victorious vampire. Spreads out to every soul watching as he walks calmly to the cage entrance. Katherine only has to gesture before the announcer is fumbling with a strange set of keys.

The Taylor from before all of this strangeness would have chocked up the thin shimmering veil that dissipates around the lock when a key slides home as nothing but heat or a trick of the light. The Taylor of now isn’t so sure.

Two bouncers rush in and around Cadence — look to each other for answers on how to go about dragging the Minotaur from the ring. Obviously something they aren’t quite used to. They end up grabbing one furry arm a-piece and drag with all their might.

Cadence keeps a tight grip on his prize even as Katherine coaxes him out. When she tries to hand him back his things he doesn’t seem to recognize them — not until she pulls the golden earring from some unseen pocket.

That he takes — pins back in place with careful precision. As though his hands aren’t stained in another creature’s blood.

“We’re leaving.” Katherine snaps at the announcer. Holds up a sharp nail at the end of a ‘not taking your shit’ finger and presses it to the man’s gaping void of a mouth. “Keep your prize money. And tell Lady Smoke what’ll happen to her next champion… to ensure there isn’t one.”

Though her confidence is unwavering, the hunter still looks back to Cade as if to ask ‘is this what you wanted?’ And hopefully she can take his silence as an agreement. Because it’s all they’re apparently getting out of him.

The Nighthunters exchange silent conversation that ends in a single curt nod; joined as if by a thread.

Nik wraps an arm around Taylor’s waist — jerks his head for Cal and Donny to follow as he starts ushering them through the crowd before it awakens.

“We’re gettin’ outta here.”

Taylor throws a look back to the pair. Watches Katherine throw Cadence’s jacket over his broad shoulders. “But…”

“No, Rookie. Not this time.”

“Nik, if you just —”

“Let it go.”

“But —”

“Let. it. go.” Clenched teeth, a squeeze on his shoulder. He’s not kidding and isn’t taking no for an answer.

He’s about to let it go. Really, he truly is.

Then he sees a distinct and familiar type of full-arm glove reaching to wipe away tears from a familiar type of face. Finds himself lurching out of the safety of Ryder’s closeness and pushing through until the cage stops him — just an obstacle but enough of one that he grasps the rusted links in his clutches and tries to part them like they’re gossamer threads.

“Vera!”

Behind him he knows they’re calling for him — “Taylor!” and “Rook!” and “Hey!” — but they don’t matter.

“Vera!” Rattling the cage like just another man losing his life savings on a bad bet. “Vera! Hey Vera! Over here! Vera!”

She’s real — wasn’t a fever dream. She was real and they abandoned her outside the cemetery but she also knew; had to have known something. Why else wouldn’t she have joined them in their fearful delirium? Why did she say what instead of who?

“Vera!”

She knows because she’s here. Here in this wonderfully hidden monstrosity of a place. She knows because she’s hidden in this secret world just like he is and that means she’s far more responsible for what happened to Kristin than he is.

God, she fucking knew!

“VERA!” Taylor slams his fist and rattles the cage. Catches a dip in the volume of the place just enough for her to peek between her delicately gloved hands and catch his eye. All the people in the place and she sees him.

Yeah, she should look scared.

Her name like an incantation falls a flat consonant when he’s wrenched back by Ryder’s strong hand. Forced to turn away from the undeniable proof he didn’t even know he was looking for to look into a different kind of proof. The kind in Ryder’s stony eyes.

“What’re you doing, Rook?” — because apparently that nickname is gonna stick — “Is it Opposite Day and no one decided to tell me? Do I gotta tell you ‘hey, let’s stay and grab a game of Blackjack’ for you to — Taylor! I’m — Don’t you run away from me!”

But he is. Is already done with hearing Ryder’s complaints because Vera’s just over there and does she know about Krissy and move so I can get to her.

Only he makes it about three-point-two steps in that general direction before Ryder’s tugging him back; this time without verbal argument.

“No—Nik no you don’t understand—Nik she’s —”

“Who?”

Who, indeed. Certainly not Vera, because there’s a gaping hole where she was standing just a moment ago that’s slowly being filled by increasingly rowdy patrons.

She’s gone.

They wrestle over ownership of Taylor’s shoulder until he gives up. Huffs and stops moving which is enough for Ryder not to manhandle him and actually pay attention to his sudden episode.

“Did you see someone?” Finally, only now it’s too late. A useless question.

Taylor’s sigh is so heavy, so damn heavy; he feels the weight of it all the way down into his soul.

“I thought… no, no I guess I didn’t.”

And of course now, when it’s pretty much the definition of too late, Ryder actually starts believing him; looks ready to question it until Taylor passes him by for Cal and Donny.

They were supposed to abandon Katherine and Cadence — not the other way around. But the crowd is still stunned enough for them to take advantage and slip away.

Away and to a service elevator the wolves sniff out from the shadows. An elevator that’s only two doorways from the almost holy taste of fresh air. Humidity or not all it takes it one breath to be a hundred times better than the stale smell of blood and sweat from down below.

“Would’a been convenient to know about this shit getting in…” Ryder mumbles — keeps it to himself so as not to spoil the rare moment of joy between the Lowell brothers as they have a proper reunion in mutual freedom.

But Taylor sees it as the gesture it is, knows for a mouthy guy like Nik it took a lot of restraint to keep that to himself, and gives him a gentle elbow of ‘I’m proud of you.’

“Now we know for next time.”

“Ha, next time,” Cal stops grinding his knuckles into Donny’s hair, “well there definitely ain’t gonna be a next time if I have anything to say about it.”

It’s a comment aimed directly at Donny. Lucky for him the boy gets it. “Right there with you, Cal. Thanks for… you know.”

“You’re my Pack and my blood, Don’. Like I was gonna let anything happen to you? We’re in this together.”

“You sure are.”

Octavia’s voice pierces through the night; makes it feel just as confining as the cage ring.

Ryder holds both hands up in surrender and Taylor doesn’t have much of a choice but to join.

Because Octavia’s part of the Pack, too. And the Pack came with.

There’s no closed doors this time around.

Kristof’s gathered the Pack around a large bonfire behind the hunting cabin. Whatever goes down; it goes down in front of everyone this time.

Octavia shoves Cal and Donny on their knees in front of their Alpha. It hasn’t rained in days but the bayou leaks into the earth, here. Stains their jeans with mud.

Ryder’s held back but has just as little freedom — held still with a preternaturally strong grip on the back of his coat collar.

“No, him too.” Kristof barks. Stops the Pack member from lumping in Taylor with the rest of the onlookers. He obeys without a second thought and pushes him to face whatever wrath is sure to come.

Cal throws a look back his way with a pained expression. “Come on, Kristof, he’s got nothin’ to do with this,” he argues — almost pleads, “hell even Ryder ain’t to blame. I bribed them to take me to Donny.”

The Alpha inhales through flared nostrils; deep and purposeful and noisy.

“Last I checked a bribe weren’t the same as holdin’ a knife to their throats. They knew what they were doin’.”

There’s a second where Donny looks ready to try and join in but one look from Cal sets him straight. Let the adults talk.

Taylor throws Nik a look. Is there anything we can do?

No, says the look he gets back — the smallest twitch of Ryder’s head back and forth, just watch and wait.

One raised hand from Octavia and the Pack goes dead quiet. No, not just the Pack. The entire bayou — every cicada, cricket, even the whistles of the willow vines. The entire bayou watches and listens.

“I don’t even know where to start with you Lowell boys,” when Kristof finally speaks it’s heavy and sigh-ful like a parent, “both’a you come to me for help and then both’a you do the exact opposite of what I tell you to do. So I’ll just ask this; am I your Alpha?”

He knows the answer. The best Taylor can figure is that he asks it to prove a point. It’s a bully tactic. Makes him want to call the man out on it — instead he just hopes there’s more to this Pack thing than he understands. For Cal’s sake at the very freakin’ least.

The Lowell brothers answer just a second out of sync.

“Yes, Kristof.”

“Of course.”

“Could’a fooled me!” His shout ripples through the whole Pack in shivers and shuffles.

Cal courts danger and chances a look up.

“I couldn’t just take a walk and do nothing, Kristof.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“He’s my brother! My kid brother—my blood brother!” If there’s more he wants to say he bites it off the tip of his tongue.

Kristof just shakes his head. “No no, see; I hear you Lowell. But what I’m hearin’ ain’t what you’re sayin’. ‘Cuz what I’m hearin’ is that you didn’t trust me to bring him home.”

“That’s not what I said —”

“Isn’t it, though? You came to me because you were — rightfully — worried about Donny.” — how they can keep talking like Donny isn’t right there is beyond him — “And I told you I’d do everything I could. Not just for you, and not just for my brother. But for the good’a the Pack.”

Octavia, up until then a stoic guard, curses something in French under her breath and rubs the back of her neck.

Whatever he’s said is enough to rile her — but leaves Taylor feeling like he blinked and missed it. Has him trying to piece together some of the puzzle until Kristof makes it easy on him; continues.

“You boys know family is everything to me — just like it was to your Pop. Weren’t no chance I wasn’t gonna take in my own blood when he passed. You know that. But one thing he always understood — the thing you boys still don’t have drilled in those thick skulls a’yers — is that no matter how important blood and kin may be when it comes to bein’ the Alpha the Pack has to come first. It has to.”

As the realization settles over him all Taylor can think is that he must have a thick skull, too. Because he definitely doesn’t understand how Kristof — how Cal and Donny’s uncle — can do this; Alpha-schmalpha.

Cal and Donny, Taylor and Ryder, Octavia and the rest of the Pack wait on bated breath for Kristof to continue. Continue justifying his choices, continue by handing down a sentence — does it matter?

It’s for the sake of the brothers Lowell that he hopes the Alpha’s hesitation is, in some part, because he’s at war with duty and family.

Instead Kristof jerks his meaty chin up; fixates on Octavia. “How much damage did they do?”

“Not much from what we could tell,” she sounds almost relieved, “and the few goblin recruiters we managed to corner made it sound like it was someone else who did all the dirty work.”

The weight of the Alpha’s frown lands on Cal all at once. “Puttin’ us in more debt around the community than we already are?”

“Ah — no, actually — if I…?”

Ryder actually waits for permission to speak. As if pigs have taken flight around the world.

Octavia nods. “Go on.”

“The Pack won’t have to worry about that, is all I’m sayin’. There were other forces at work; independent ones. They were holdin’ Smoke’s debtors in cages, Kristof.”

“Cages?” It’s the first time they seem to address Donny — takes him a breath to notice before he nods so hard his head might fall off.

Ryder continues; “Now, be mad at ‘em for all you want, but I think the one thing we can all agree on is that shit ain’t right no matter what you owe.”

“No; no it ain’t,” — there’s a ‘but’ coming — “but that don’t excuse what you did—what both’a you did. Donny, pup, thinkin’ a’yer kin’s all well and good but good intentions didn’t do much good in a cage now did they?

“And you, Cal… you made yer grave. Time to lie in it.”

Taylor throws Ryder a panicked look. It’s just a metaphor, right? Even so it’s a bad one to use at a time like this. Especially when they both very well could have ended up in the grave had they fought the Minotaur anyway!

“Wait —”

He doesn’t need to know the finer details of Pack mentality, though, to know that when Cal stands that’s not the thing to do. Makes the gathered wolves stir restlessly; the Alpha and the Beta growling at the act of defiance.

Cal seems to be done baring his neck in silent acceptance; in cut-off explanations he knows won’t be listened to.

“I’ll take both our punishments.”

“Cal no way —” Donny’s voice cracks; Cal uses it to cut him off with a hand to stay him down.

“Don’, shut up.”

Kristof isn’t forcing his nephew back down. He’s not actually going to listen… is he?

“I’m listenin’.”

“The way I see it — mercy would be banishing us both from the Pack. I get it Kristof; I do. But he’s just a kid—a pup. He needs a Pack to grow up with, not grow up in spite of.”

“Some might say he needs blood kin more.”

“Yeah well…” Cal rubs the back of his head, “he’ll have you for that, won’t he?”

“Are you tryin t’say you don’t need the Pack, Lowell?” Octavia scoffs behind him. Draws his gaze back — where it lands not on her but on Taylor. Where it stays.

“No, but there’s a future generation to think of.”

Donny tries again but knows there’s no use; a half-whispered “please Cal…” punctuated by shaking shoulders and the near-silent ‘boys don’t cry’ sniffles of youth.

There really isn’t any use. But the Alpha shifts on his workman’s boots. Maybe he’s a little glad to have the weight of decision taken off his broad shoulders.

“If that’s yer final decision.”

“It is.”

“Then there ain’t a home for you here with the Jensen Pack, Cal Lowell. And I don’t think I gotta tell you what’ll happen if you find your way here without my say-so.”

Taylor doesn’t know what to think. Tries in earnest — looking around at the Pack — to find someone just as dismayed by this as he is. Someone with the balls to step forward; to say something.

“The same goes for you Nik-fuckin’-Ryder, and yer nosy little mortal, too.” The barest hint of remorse is gone when Kristof addresses them. All that rage from the beginning of the night bubbling back with one look and a low growl. “You stay the hell away from me and mine. There ain’t a friend for you here.

“Get out, and take the stray with ya.”

The Alpha’s disgruntled return to the cabin is all anyone needs. The Pack disperses in hushed discussion. Octavia pushes past Cal like he’s — well, like he’s Nik — to help Donny up with a far gentler demeanor.

The kid doesn’t waste a second standing to rush into Cal’s waiting arms. They hug with the same ferocity, the same desperation. Reunited hours earlier only to give one last goodbye now.

“It’s not fair.” Only realizes he’s said it aloud when Ryder gives a squeeze of his shoulder.

“No; it isn’t.”

Octavia gives the Lowells as long as she can. And whatever it is — fear or duty — it’s enough to make Donny unlatch himself from Cal without much resistance. The arm she throws around his scrawny shoulders isn’t possessive. Cal even looks a little relieved.

“You got ‘til the moon’s under the trees to pack a bag,” she tells Cal.

He shrugs it off. “Won’t need that long. Just…”

They both look down to Donny rubbing his runny nose with his sleeve.

In a rare flash of emotion, the Beta’s face softens.

“He’ll be taken care of. Go on — get.”

And Cal doesn’t need very long at all. Emerges from his trailer with a single duffel slung over his shoulder and a paper bag clutched in his fist.

Before Ryder can even kick off from the side of the mobile home Cal shoves the bag in his hand. “Your Hunter’s Sage.”

Ryder doesn’t look inside; doesn’t have to… or maybe he just trusts Cal at his word finally.

“Thanks.”

“A deal’s a deal.” His shoulders heave in his sigh as he turns to Taylor; looks ready to maybe give some sort of a goodbye. Only Taylor won’t have it.

“You ready?”

He blinks. “Ready for what?”

“To come back with us —” holding up both hands, “— and don’t even try to say no. I’m sure Garrus wouldn’t mind putting you up.” Well, no, he doesn’t really know at all. But judging by the emptiness of the Shift those rooms upstairs don’t exactly have a waiting list.

This is all his fault anyway. Somehow; it just is.

Cal’s protest is stuttered, almost wordless. He looks to Ryder like the fellow loner might back him up but gets only a shrug — nothing to make his case.

“Cab’s waitin’ off the edge’a the property.”

Luckily (though it may be tied to a defeated mood, the more Taylor thinks about it) Cal doesn’t argue. Just nods and follows along with his head held high.

Well until they cross the pergola marking the Pack’s territory — then he tries his best not to let the others know he steals a glance back.

Taylor notices; pretends he doesn’t. Just ‘accidentally’ bumps Cal’s shoulder with his own to help him put one foot in front of the other.

#nightbound #choices nb #nik ryder #cal lowell #playchoices #katherine nightbound #vera reimonenq #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oc: cadence smith #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 3 years

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Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 57 – The Turning Point

Bam!!!!!

Arrived a new challenger to the brawl staged upon Lukedonian shoreline, between the world’s most malicious spear and living shields endeavoring to protect their homeland.

Her presence embodied the blazing sun that has descended upon the battlefield.

In fact, Lunark’s entire body was blazing with blood-red aura, which gave the audience an impression that their own flesh and bones were caught in fire.

The scene was audaciously impressive enough, but they could not resist leaving a comment at the sight, for the same reason several few seconds ago, when they beheld the crimson photopillar upon the sea.

“Lady Lunark...?”

“But... This aura must be...”

“Did you get that power from...”

Lunark also knew – no, she was certain what this power is.

To whom this power would have originally belonged.

Whose voice she was talking to back in the sea.

“I don’t believe this is the most appropriate time or situation to discuss the matter.”

Every eye sharpened at Lunark’s pregnant remark.

“Very well, then.”

“We will gladly help you and...”

“No. Leave this to me, and y’all go look after the injured.”

Seira and Regis stiffened in the course of lifting the Death Scythe and gripping the Legasus, respectively, to instead gape at the werewolf.

“I have a plan. I’ll explain later. Now go. Please.”

Lunark’s speech was rushed, as if there was something troubling her within.

All heads of clans, stationed ready for a fight, exchanged looks, but they eventually loosened their muscles, reminding themselves that not a second is meant to be wasted during a war.

“Understood.”

“We wish you luck...”

Ludis, although his bow was as courteous as it could be, hinted nervousness on his face.

He was the first head of a clan to run into the Dark Spear unchained from Frankenstein’s control.

It was true that the backup like none other has obtained power that was more than like-none-other, but he could not help being anxious on the other hand.

Neither Lunark nor the other heads of clans gave him reprimanding looks.

After all, Lunark had her reasons – or rather a dilemma – for asking them to leave the scene.

She fisted her clawed fingers as tightly as she could; her hands were trembling much more viciously than she had thought.

Perhaps because she had asked for this power for just a little bit, she could feel it – she could tell that this power will serve her for a very limited amount of time.

‘I should’ve known, but this power is too great. Should I as much as blink, I will lose control of this power in less than a second. It’s actually an ordeal to hold this power from escaping my body.’

Lunark could at last feel what Frankenstein would have felt whenever he wielded the Dark Spear, although her standing is not completely identical to Frankenstein’s standing.

‘This power does not belong to me, and I didn’t even get to adapt myself to this power. If I am to fight like I usually do, there’s no telling what kind of permanent aftermath I will scar Frankenstein with. So in all... I must finish this as quickly as I can, by using this power to maximum, but not all out against the Dark Spear.’

And Lunark was aware that her goal was not to defeat the Dark Spear; it was to get Frankenstein back.

‘Even if I prevail, there’s no point if the Dark Spear takes over his body again. And I do not believe this power will stick around beyond this battle. Though I’m not sure how I can get Frankenstein back without losing him ever again... I’ll start figuring it out right now!’

That was the last thought Lunark had the moment she began her second round against the Dark Spear, and it did not take long until she learned she will have a gruesomely long way to go.

Wham!!!!!!

“Krgh!!!”

Her punch was nothing different from the usual, but it unleashed shockwave that devastated the forest at least hundreds of meters away, upon pummeling Frankenstein’s body to roll over for seemingly dozens of times.

‘That was much stronger than I had expected...! But maybe I should’ve known.’

Lunark’s forehead tightened, upon realizing that she must be much more careful than she had fathomed.

And of course, Dark Spear was not intimidated at all.

“How dare you...!!!”

Dark Spear returned with teeth grinding; it stampeded from pieces of wood and leaves back to the field.

“You’re gonna regret you refused to close your eyes in the water!”

Dark Spear ripped through the air towards Lunark, its true entity held in Frankenstein’s hand.

*****

Meanwhile, in Seoul

I need help.

If I try my best, it wouldn’t be impossible to defeat those Union agents and save the modified civilians.

But in order to stop any more sacrifice, I must put an end to this as soon as I can.

And to do that, I need help.

Until when do I have to wait to ask help from Tao and M-21?

Takio zipped his lips to the point his lips whitened, after grabbing civilians that Kornel flung.

However, one of the civilians was not very cooperative, flailing and thus wasting Takio’s time until he could plant him back to earth.

By the time Takio lifted his guns in an aim, Kornel’s fist and Helga’s heel were already running straight to his face.

‘Damn it – it’s too late!’

Without enough time to block or evade and counter, Takio clenched his jaw with a strain.

Slam!

“Kgh!”

Pow!

“Argh!”

But then Kornel and Helga were pushed back, clearly due to a strike, and Takio turn around, seeking the source of the strike.

Right afterwards, he was petrified, albeit briefly.

“Get your eyes back on the targets. We’re not done here.”

“...What are you doing here, Miss Raciela?”

“I was about to go to bed, but there happened to be some bad-mannered losers who just can’t tell playtime from bedtime. So I decided to give some noogies before sleep.”

Replied Yuigi, as oh-so-calmly as she could, before she took her spot next to Takio.

“What is the meaning of this, Yuigi?!”

Kornel rubbed his ribs as he stood, and Helga glared at the red-haired woman, her face portraying heavy amount of shock.

“...Do you have any idea what you have just done, ma’am?”

Helga’s words were polite, addressing the Union agent who used to be ranked higher than her.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but that man is an adversary to the Union. I heard from Kornel that... Oh, which reminds me, your introduction to him wasn’t very pleasant. Allow me to apologize on behalf of...”

“Cut it out. I already know everything, so no need to work so hard to win me over. And I’d thought my move was enough to tell you that I’m not here to make friends with you two.”

That was when Takio’s, Kornel’s, and Helga’s faces, full of doubt and questions, quaked as if they will shatter.

“Are you out of your mind?! You’re taking the side of the Union’s enemy! Are you saying you will betray us?!”

“Betray you...? I think you meant to say that I’ve finally learned what I must do.”

As Helga’s forehead was turning stony at an accelerated rate, Yuigi’s eyes shifted towards Takio.

As she met him in the eyes, she could picture what happened just a few moments ago.

*****

When M-21 and Tao departed to KSA, to make sure they will be there when Yuhyung returns to Korea, Takio was visiting Yuigi yet again.

His purpose of visit, at least on the surface, was to teach her the emergency protocol in case Kornel’s raid repeats itself.

Which was not what he had in mind in reality.

“...How come this is in your possession?”

Yuigi’s hands were quivering dangerously, locked upon the red-black costume Takio offered her.

“It’s a long story. And while you’re at it, you should check the document inside.”

Following his suggestion, Yuigi picked up and scanned the document inside the briefcase.

Not before long, her eyes began rattling more precariously than her hands.

“...Is... Is this true?!”

“It’s an official data from Union, earned via courtesy of a trustworthy personnel.”

Yuigi waved her head, as if she were denying what was obvious, until she broke down on her knees.

“Miss Raciela!”

Takio kneeled towards her in automatic reflex.

He, too, was beyond daunted when he first read the document, and he at the same time was outraged upon witnessing that Union had once again proved that it was Union.

‘Is this what that gigantic toad meant when he told me Union is in fact my archenemy that took away my all?!’

The reason of death of her little brother and sister as provided by the Union was that their illness worsened a few months after her enrollment as a Union specimen.

Which was far from the truth.

Union’s test subjects must thoroughly cut off their ties with their past lives, and during the process they must completely remove themselves from their families.

In order to prevent their potential future encounter, their families are put under surveillance as well.

So naturally, Arthur and Hailey were also tagged by Union eyes, but the agents who underestimated them due to their ages were not very careful with their stealth.

The children were cleverer than they had seemed; they recognized the men who took their sister, and they pled them to return her until......

The agent in charge of the surveillance fatally clubbed their heads out of compulsive annoyance.

And that was the last of Arthur and Hailey documented by the Union.

Yuigi writhed in betrayal and ultimately shed tears, and Takio wordlessly kept his position next to her.

He eventually lost enough time to make Tao and M-21 worry about him at KSA, for Yuigi silently wailed just as long.

“...Why did you tell me this?”

“...Pardon?”

“Why did you disclose this to me? And why did you hand me my suit as well?”

Now it was Takio’s turn to hush.

It was his sole call to bring these to Yuigi.

Tao and M-21, their minds in alignment with Lunark’s mind, wanted to keep these material and immaterial secrets as their secret weapon, to make Yuigi forfeit her allegiance to Union when the time comes that she opposes them.

And here was Takio, unveiling these secrets without notifying them.

“Are you afraid I’ll go back to the Union? Are you trying to apply safety measures on me in advance?”

“...No, though I doubt you’ll trust me.”

“So why did you give these to me?”

“...Because I understand.”

“Understand what?”

“...Well, I won’t be able to completely understand how you feel for losing your bona fide siblings and only family. But... At least I can guess how throbbing and dense your pain would be.”

Slowly swallowing his breath, Takio whispered very cautiously.

“My heart was wrenched out of me when I realized Aris tricked me by playing Teira. I know. Teira... I mean, Aris was not my sister. But just because I learned I must deny her ties to me didn’t mean I could deny all those times and memories I have shared with my ‘sister’ at once.”

Yuigi’s eyes wavered in the course of their intense and even vindictive stare contest against Takio.

“Which is why I felt I would be more than deceiving you if I keep this hidden from you. Now, allow me to take my leave. I have a business to attend. And don’t worry. I’ll figure out what to tell my teammates regarding this.”

Even when she was left alone, Yuigi could not raise herself back up.

Now that she knew what really happened to her brother and sister, she became even more clueless regarding her future.

So far she has stayed under the hospitality of Takio, due to push and pull from her surroundings, but now with the truth in her hands she knew there is NO WAY she could return to Union.

Nonetheless, that did not mean she could remain as Takio’s guest; she knew what Takio’s action would bring about among his teammates.

‘What am I supposed to do?’

That was when she felt a faint tremor nudging the safehouse.

She burst out through the door, fearing the safehouse suffering another attack, and she could sense the clatter of war far away.

‘That’s where the KSA HQ is... Does Takio’s business concern KSA?’

Mincing her lips, Yuigi glanced at her Cerberus suit waiting for her on the table.

She did not know what she must do for her future.

‘But... I think I know what I must do right now.’

Takio delivered all of what she received simply for her sake, and she did have a heart to tell her what is shameless and what is not.

And it was telling her to go and pay him back.

*****

Therefore Yuigi picked up her suit and reached the battle zone.

In order to make full use of her suit, however, she needed a permission.

“I need you to release me from my choker.”

(next chapter)

And this is why, ladies and gentlemen, I made Yuigi live in this fic - it was all part of a grand plan. XD However, I had trouble composing this chapter, regarding the reason why Takio returned Yuigi’s suit to her and let her learn the truth about her siblings’ death. Takio’s top and foremost priority is his current family - his team and Rai and their safety - but by returning Yuigi’s suit to her in secret, he would be putting her above them, which would be against his characterization. But in the end I couldn’t come up with a better plot for this chapter, which shows what I lack as a writer - and which I hate. :’( Anyhow, today I finished the battle between Lunark and Dark Spear. Yes, that means the highlight of this fic is over, and all that is left is the aftermath and the ending. I will do my best until the very last chapter, and thanks for everyone for staying with me!

#korean webcomic #korean webtoon #fanfic #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #lunarkxfrankenstein #wolfsbane #Mr.Wolf #AnAngelicDay

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medproish · 6 years

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Trump’s mounting confrontation with China also threatens to light a bonfire directly beneath the Republican Party’s last firewall against potentially significant losses in the 2018 midterm elections.

The GOP’s dominance of small-town and rural America has become the indisputable geographic foundation of its power in Washington. And the party is counting on continued strength in those areas to contain its losses this fall, particularly after the repeated indications in a number of special and local elections over the past 15 months that distaste for Trump in urban centers and white-collar suburbs could produce a sharp backlash against Republican candidates in more densely populated areas.

In this volatile dispute, the stakes in rural America are high both economically and politically. No industry is more identified with the American heartland than agriculture, yet few are more tightly integrated into global markets.

Tariffs would hit farming communities harder

Tough talk against China was a big part of Trump’s campaign pitch, but the prospect of an actual trade war with China could weaken that last line of defense for the GOP. No economic sector has raised greater alarms about the potential consequences of a trade war than agriculture, a highly export-dependent industry mired in a years-long slump even as most other economic sectors have revived. That’s sent farm state Republican elected officials and strategists scrambling to criticize the rapidly multiplying threats by Trump to impose punishing tariffs on a wide array of Chinese products — and the Chinese threats to respond in kind, particularly against US agricultural exports.

“For the rural economy in Iowa the forecast is grim, and I think Trump needs to understand what’s going on the ground out there,” says Craig Robinson, a longtime GOP strategist in Iowa. “These people in rural Iowa are already seeing their towns, their people and their population disappear. It is all consolidating in these metropolitan areas. If these tariffs actually happen, it is going to speed that up, and you risk speeding up that change where these are rock solid conservative voters today and in the next election cycle it could be completely different.”

Democrats believe the threatened tariffsare creating new opportunities for them in rural places that have become very stony ground for the party. “He is making a very, very big mistake by doing this,” says Rep. Cheri Bustos, an Illinois Democrat who leads the party’s rural engagement effort for 2018. “Many of the farmers I know, the growers and the producers, they were not only just supportive of President Trump but they were enthusiastically supportive of him. It’s one more indication that he’s treating us like flyover country. When you are messing with someone’s pocketbook at a time when they are already hurting, that does not bode well.”

Agricultural exports now consistently account for about 20% of farm income. That’s considerably higher than exports’ share of the total economy, which has varied from about 11% to just below 14% over the past decade.

China in 2017 passed Canada (which is locked in trade disputes with Trump over renegotiating the North American Free Trade Agreement) as the largest market for American agricultural exports. And soybeans, which China conspicuously targeted for retaliatory tariffs, this year will surpass corn as the crop that American farmers are planting on the most acres — the first time it has exceeded corn in at least 35 years, according to the US Department of Agriculture. Soybeans and corn rank one-two as the most highly exported American crops; China has tagged both, along with wheat, beef and pork, as targets for offsetting tariffs if Trump implements his threatened levies on a wide array of Chinese imports.

Adding to the pressure, the trade tensions are rising when many farmers are already scuffling. Though the recovery in energy production (particularly natural gas) boosted overall job growth in 2017 across small town and rural communities, agriculture itself has been suffering through a cycle of excessive production and weak prices: The Agriculture Department’s Economic Research Service recently projected that farm income this year would slump to its lowest since 2006. Ironically, even as Trump is threatening China, one of Agriculture Secretary Sonny Perdue’s principal responses to the squeeze has been to pledge to increase American agricultural exports.

Republicans’ rural base

All of this pressure is concentrating on exurban, small town and rural communities that have become central to Republican electoral power. As Tom Davis, a former Republican representative from Virginia and chair of the National Republican Congressional Committee, often says, the GOP’s center of gravity “has moved from the country club to the country.”

The extent of the shift is captured in data analyzed by Bill Bishop, the author of a highly regarded book on geographic and political polarization (“The Big Sort“) and co-founder of The Daily Yonder, a nonprofit website that examines rural issues.

At the presidential level, the Daily Yonder’s analysis ranks counties across seven categories based on their size, from counties of 1 million or more people that are in urban centers down to rural areas. Democrats have won the largest category, of million-plus urban centers, in every presidential election since 2004, and also carried the next two groupings (million-plus counties not located in central cities and metro counties with 250,000 to 1 million in population) in 2008, 2012 and 2016.

Republicans, in turn, have established a commanding advantage on the smallest four groups of counties on the list, including metropolitan areas that range from 250,000 to 1 million in population. Small town America is centered on the bottom three groups: metro areas with less than 250,000 in population, rural counties adjacent to metropolitan areas and rural counties not near any metro areas. Republicans have carried each of those areas comfortably since 2004, but in 2016 Trump still dramatically expanded the party’s advantage in those places. He beat Hillary Clinton by almost exactly 2-to-1 in each of the two smallest areas.

In the House, the GOP hold on small town America is even more overwhelming. The Daily Yonder ranks each House seat based on the share of the population that lives in rural areas (according to census definitions). By its count, Republicans now control 44 of the 50 most rural House seats across the country, and fully 107 of the top 120 — a stunning ratio of nearly 9-to-1. Even looking at all 181 districts where one-fifth or more of the residents qualify as rural, Republicans hold 155 seats and Democrats just 26 (including Bustos’ seat). That means almost 2-in-3 House Republicans represent seats that are at least one-fifth rural, compared with only about 1-in-8 Democrats.

The fight for rural voters

Democrats are targeting very few of the Republican-held seats at the top of that list, generally the places where the rural population reaches at least 45% of the total. (Republican Reps. Bruce Poliquin of Maine, John Faso of New York and Tim Walberg of Michigan are among the few exceptions.)

But the Democrats are aiming at a large number of GOP representatives one rung down the ladder, in districts that mix a substantial rural population (around 15% to 40% of the district) with larger population centers, particularly white-collar suburbs. Republicans in that category range from Andy Barr in Kentucky to Rod Blum and David Young in Iowa; Rodney Davis and Mike Bost in Illinois; Jeff Denham and David Valadao in California; and Cathy McMorris Rodgers and the open seat being vacated by Dave Reichert in Washington state.

Relative to his 2016 vote, Trump’s approval in rural America has declined, just as it has in bigger places. But the President’s culturally conservative and anti-immigrant themes generally find a receptive audience in those communities, and the most recent NBC/Wall Street Journal poll placed his approval rating in rural communities at 51%, 7 points higher than in suburban areas and 13 points higher than in urban centers.

Trump’s relatively stronger standing has fortified Republican hopes of preventing any Democratic rural revival in 2018. But the trade dispute has complicated that picture. While the President’s hard line against China could prove popular in small towns that revolve around manufacturing, it has drawn near universal condemnation from the leading farm groups. “It is the worst kind of news we could get,” John Heisdorffer, an Iowa farmer and president of the American Soybean Association, told the Des Moines Register last week.

Responding to those alarms, a parade of farm state Republican senators and representatives have criticized the proposed tariffs and urged the administration to find other ways to pressure China. But, apart from Sasse, few have personally criticized or distanced themselves from Trump.

Republican Rep. David Young of Iowa, who could face a competitive race this fall, walked that tightrope in an appearance on National Public Radio last week. “I think the President has the best interests of America in mind when it comes to the economy and making sure that farmers and anybody else has great opportunity out there,” Young said. “It’s just so unfortunate that when it comes to the trade issue, and it’s not fair, whatever the issue is first — steel, intellectual property, aluminum — that those foreign countries, China, know where to hit us first, and that’s with agriculture.”

Most important, Trump’s farm state Republican critics have yet to propose any concrete action Congress might take to discourage him from pursuing sanctions if talks with China stalemate; Young’s staff, for instance, says only that he “isn’t ruling out any action available to Congress.” The administration has signaled it may use other federal programs to financially compensate farmers hurt by any eventual tariffs — though the magnitude of the potential losses would be difficult to entirely offset.

In rural America, the cultural barriers for Democrats remain formidable. But the Republican reluctance to confront Trump too forcefully could create a rare opening in farm country for Democrats who are generally challenging Trump much more directly than their GOP counterparts over the tariffs. North Carolina Democrats, for instance, held a press conference Monday to denounce Trump’s saber rattling as a threat to the state’s farmers.

“If the Republican members of Congress don’t start … standing up to this President, I think that November is going to be a very positive election for Democrats,” Bustos says. “Republicans definitely have to own what the Trump administration does. [As the majority] it is on them to allow us to debate these issues. It is on them to make sure we have reasonable legislation we can vote on. It is on all of their backs.”

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