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discoknack · 2 months

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Kikoru's Spirit Guy Part 2

Part 1 here

For @sonicasura 's ghost!Kafka AU. Also, to clarify, Kafka's character-color is currently green, not yet cyan - that's why his thought paragraph is green.

Also also, I don't know what the floor plan of the mansion looks like so I'm just making things up as I go along.

I have one two more posts in me. Not about this particular storyline, but the ghost AU more generally.

Kafka completely forgot himself.

For a while that day, he had been stalking around for Kaiju souls to consume - awful quiet on that front for now - and beating back some delinquent desire to decorate the outside of the mansion like a haunted house. Again. He noted Kikoru's arrival and her sprint for the door, but didn't think much of it. Until he soon realized: he was bored. Then he figured he might see what Kikoru was up to before mischief sounded too enticing.

Simply phasing through the wall, he heard it: the kind of scream that had him frightened! He merged with the shadows and slithered fast. Kafka sweeping closer, the scream had evolved into a sob before he reached the kitchen.

His urge was kind in nature. Which was a great thing, as he was overwhelmed by it and had lost his usual sense of discretion.

Overwhelmed so much so, that when he spotted the distressed pre-teen Kikoru - red in the face, tears flowing, and gripping her chest as if she was about to go into cardiac arrest - he completely spaced on the fact he resembled some screwed-up worm-on-a-string made of darkness, with human-like hands and a face that glowed green like a Jack-O-Lantern.

Lunging, he shouted, "Kikoru!" And grabbed her shoulders. Partly in an attempt to physically stabilize her in the case of a medical emergency, and partly because he was all wound-up. Kikoru drew in a deep gasp, opening her eyes at the same time, as Kafka shouted, "are you okay?"

No, she was not. Her eyes widened at him, horror striking her face. Kafka realized his mistake too late, as Kikoru's eyes rolled upward and closed. She went limp in his hands.

Kafka exclaimed, trying to be gentle as he shook her slightly, "Oops! Oops! Oops! Not good!"

He paused. Keep it cool, Kafka. I'll just check her pulse and make sure she's breathing. Her soul is still in there, so that's a good sign.

But before he had the chance, he heard rapid footsteps approaching.

"Kikoru-Sama?" It was the butler! Sebasu. The gentleman entered only to see an empty kitchen. He called for her again, looking around, and fidgeted with his collar when he heard no response.

Kafka was hiding in a corner of the ceiling, of course, having wrapped Kikoru and himself in shadow. He watched Sebasu continue marching. But before leaving the room completely, Sebasu looked in the direction Kafka was hiding. Looked right at him! A shadow too large and too dark for the atmosphere. But it wasn't enough to make Sebasu pause - he slowed down but did not stop - and he disappeared through a door.

Kafka waited, listening. He could tell by this point that Kikoru was fine, her breathing steady as she slept. Now, what to do with her?

Sebasu called for her again, his voice anxious.

Kafka considered taking her to her room as soon as the butler was far enough away.

But the gentleman paced through the kitchen again, muttering, "Perhaps the mistress ran to her room!"

Of course he would think that!

Kafka had to be fast. No, not just fast, but nimble and quiet. Slinking away from the wall with Kikoru in bridal-carry, he followed the quick butler through the house. Kafka knew where Kikoru's room was, but needed an opportunity to get there first.

The stairs were a literal turning point. If he was too slow, Sebasu would turn at the landing and easily spot either a floating Shinomiya or a dark spirit carrying her. Luckily, Kafka had no need for stairs to ascend, so he flew himself up in a back-flip - coiling to minimize his presence and keep Kikoru secure - over the banister at the second floor.

Once at the top, he spared no pause and glided straight to her room, opening and closing the door with a wave of his ghostly tail, and gently set her down on her bed.

Just in time, too, because before Kafka could really stop and think, Sebasu knocked on the door. "Kikoru-Sama?"

A moment was long enough for Kafka to hide under the bed.

Sebas opened the door a crack, half-entering. He whispered, "Ah, you're asleep. Not wearing your blanket?" He hummed thoughtfully. He tiptoed to her bedside and remained there for some small amount of time. Then he turned in no particular direction. Perhaps he was looking around for something. He walked back to the door and paused, humming again. Finally, he left.

Kafka finally had time to reflect. In the kitchen, Kikoru had screamed. And this brought the attention of Kafka, Sebasu, and Hikari - who saw most of the situation unfold and now materialized at the head of Kikoru's bed, glittering with an almost divine aura. Kafka knew this because he could sense her presence and now saw her foot.

The one person who didn't show up to check on Kikoru at all? Mr. Shinomiya.

Chaos boiled inside of Kafka, and he considered pouring every ounce of his venom into Web That Makes You Go Insane 100%. His fingers itched as he imagined storming the man's office and spraying him right now.

Hikari stage-whispered, "Kafka!" Startling him from his thoughts. "You are like a cat who hides and throws up. I sympathize with you, I do." And she huffed a sigh, growling a little. "Heaven knows I do - but you're making a bit of a mess here, bud!"

Kafka looked down and saw, mortified, that he had been leaking Web That Makes You Sufficiently Paranoid 35%. In this room, of all places! How irresponsible.

Exclaiming, he rapidly wiped it away, muttering something about restraint or clumsiness. He phased upward through the bed, still embarrassed, "my bad..." He also clipped through Kikoru's leg, and she pulled away and curled up on herself a little more. No harm done, though.

Hikari was stroking Kikoru's hair, deep in thought.

That's right. Putting Isao in the psyche ward would leave Kikoru alone, and leave no one to pay the butler (who was a real-one for providing his service keeping Kikoru safe and happy). Plus, it would piss off Hikari to no end. If Kafka had no quarrel with her, but she had plenty with him, the ensuing fight would be at least a little one-sided. And even if he survived, the loss of their friendship would devastate him.

Not sure what to do with himself, Kafka sat at the foot of the bed, coiling his tail under him.

Hikari spoke, frustrated and gloomy. "How did things wind up like this?"

Kafka's mouth quirked, his sharp green smile a touch ironic. "You can say that again."

Hikari threw sarcasm, "Ha, ha. Common complaint!"

Kafka interpreted this as anger and he shrank, hands in surrender. "No no! I meant...!"

"Just messing with ya." Hikari stuck her tongue out. Then she bent down to kiss Kikoru's head, and the girl smiled in her sleep. "A lot of us do have similar feelings. It's natural."

Kafka had watched her display of affection, and now hummed in the affirmative.

"Kiiiikoruuu... Kiiiiiikoru-chaaAAAaan- oh! I'm saying it like that again..."

Kikoru stirred, groaning and lazily opening her eyes. She sniffed. "Smells... candy?" She licked her lips and hummed, suspicious. No trace of the treat she had earlier. What was that scent?

A man's voice greeted her from the foot of the bed.

Kikoru lifted her head, wide-eyed, and scooted herself backwards. It was the shadow monster from earlier! But she didn't shout, and after some moments, she relaxed against her pillow. She simply watched him, slowly slipping on her best attempt at a poker face.

The ghost explained that he had woken her up in case she needed to do homework today, but he'd let her sleep if she felt she needed it more.

Kikoru wanted to go back to sleep; she had a wonderful dream. But thinking about it too much now would make her cry, and this thing in front of her looked nefarious. Kikoru had displayed enough weakness already and wanted to deal with this monster sooner rather than later. She didn't understand the situation, but supposed that if the ghost did have evil intent, he probably had to follow some set of rules, or else he would have enacted his plans while she slept. "What do you want from me?"

"Eh?"

"You can’t have my soul. I need it." She didn't tell him why beyond the obvious. If, for example, she told him she needed it to save the country, he would probably try to barter her soul for something that would accomplish a similar goal. This is how she thought of the situation: From her perspective, she was an unlikely folk hero up against a mysterious being in a deadly game of wits. Then she realized she might already have enticed him, if he were the more mischievous type that wants to take something personally important from his victims. But she tried not to let her mistake show on her face.

Kafka barked a laugh, which came off a little sinister given his looks. "I'm not hungry. -Uhh! Bad joke, not funny..." he waved his hands as if shooing away even the mere suggestion. "I don't eat people~."

He almost sounded tired by the end. But even so, that was exactly what a ghost who ate people would say. Kikoru held her suspicion. This ghost might be able to lie.

Kafka made a casual gesture like he was thinking. "Maybe you could think of me as, an undead body guard!" He held up a clawed thumb, nodding to himself once and making a hmph noise, like he got it perfect. "I'm here to make sure you're safe."

"Why?" Kikoru narrowed her eyes.

"'Why?'"

Though she acted brave, Kikoru hugged her knees. "You're not my mommy."

Kafka's smile widened and he squinted, seeming shy. His voice was warm. "Nah. I wish I could be as cool as her."

Kikoru kept scrutinizing. "You're no angel, either."

His smile became more like a grimace. "...no..."

"Uh huh. You scared me really bad, Obake-san*. You're lying about protecting me."

*Obake-san means Mr Ghost, basically.

"Nuh uh!" Kafka protested. It hurt, but ultimately didn't matter if she believed him or not. Sighing, he began to uncoil. "Whatever. I'm doing a favor for a friend by watching over you. Expressing my gratitude. That's why. I'm off now, so," the ghost set his posture, ready to fly off. "You don't have to worry about me anymore."

Kikoru couldn't come up with a response. It seemed like she won for now, but didn't resolve the situation. He would come back, she was certain.

Kafka stopped at the wall. "One more thing. Actually, two." He turned around. "Call me what you like; I don't mind. But know my real name: Hibino Kafka."

Kikoru returned to scrutinizing him intensely. "Shinomiya Kikoru." The ghost used her name before already, so she wasn't giving more information away, but this seemed to be some more formal introduction.

Kafka raised a finger. "And, I heard you got a 'B' on your test." His smile returned. "The first failure is always the hardest. Try not to let it discourage you."

Kikoru watched him phase through the wall, growing frustrated. What kind of preachy nonsense was that?

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savebatsfromscratch · 6 months

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Windmills and Seabreezes - Palletshipping Week 4 (Coming Home)

Summary:

Ash returns from his final Journey. He can't seem to feel at home.

Notes:

Prompt: Coming Home Note: Btw I have NOT watched any of Journeys. This was just so clear in my head I had to spit it out. Apologies if it’s kinda wacky. This is intended to be a Palletshipping end game, but it’s rather convoluted and extremely open-ended. I still think it counts though, and it is my opinion that matters so… Cws: Post breakup whump. (Satogou for reference.) Mental turmoil. It’s NOT happy. Words: 1,518

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54897274

Ash dropped his bag onto his bed and sighed.

So that was really the end huh?

The sudden rush of tiredness wasn’t a surprise. It wasn’t at all unusual to feel a little sore after coming home from a journey, just like it wasn’t at all unusual to feel aches creeping into focus after actually getting a room in a hotel for once. It wasn’t even surprising to feel the ever present question of, “what am I even doing here?” spin inside his head.

No.

None of that was the problem.

He sat on the edge of his bed and tried to talk himself into feeling better. He had done it! He didn’t have to fight anymore, he had won. No matter how unlikely it had seemed, especially with his soul crushing defeat in the Kalos league, he had done it. For whatever reason, trainer critics never seemed to take his Alola win seriously, only reflecting on his loss in the Kalos semifinals, and he had to admit that it had got to him a little bit!

But this was not that!

This was something undeniable.

The masters tournament, something that was meant to be the best of the best, and he had won!

So… Why did he still feel so down?

Was there really nothing beyond this? Of course not! He still hadn’t won in most of the leagues he had been a part of, and there were missions upon missions to take on in any project he desired, if he chose to go down a different path. Heck, he hadn’t even given contests or performances a real shot, those looked fun, he knew for a fact that you had to be made of something special to do well there. Beyond that, he hadn’t even been to many regions, completely losing out on their styles of being a trainer.

He’d never tried wild pokemon photography, or card games, or research puzzles, or ranger life, or battle simulators, or capture contests, or any of the other things that he’d heard fellow trainers raving about on the roads. Sure, not all of those options really sounded like his style, but just the fact that there were so many of them clearly meant that there was more out there to do! There was more to learn, more to experience, more to grow in and with, why wasn’t he excited about it?

Of course, he knew the answer.

Duh.

Losing traveling partners always hurt him, but this most recent loss was on a level that Ash found almost completely unprecedented. …almost. There had only been one other abandonment that hurt quite so bad, but it had been years and years since that loss, and now his wounds felt fresh and reopened.

If he couldn’t look at someone he loved, hold their hands, and tell him they’d always been together, what did it matter that he was the champion? What did it matter that there was more to do? What did it matter that he was not yet perfect? He certainly hadn’t been perfect when he’d been unable to see anything but him.

Why had he come back?

Until that point, Ash had felt comfortable, even happy with Goh at his side. Until that point, he had finally thought he had found someone to whom a promise of “forever” wouldn’t be a dirty lie. Finally someone who could, and would, save him, make him clean and whole once more.

Someone who, funnily enough, was exactly the type of person who could make Ash break his promise.

That was his problem, he guessed. He never seemed to be able to pick one. Did he want to be a champion or a friend of Pokemon? Did he want to keep in one region, or did he want to head onto the next? What even was the next? Should he go left, or should he make the right decision? Should he try something new, now that it was over, that which he had spent, and on occasion, even lost, his life in order to achieve?

What about him made it so impossible to make a decision like this?

He forced himself to lay down in his bed, forcing his mind to calm down. He couldn’t risk accidentally stomping his feet and alerting his mother to his distress. He had just gotten home, as far as she knew, he had never even been dating Gou, let alone broken up with him, and he wanted to keep her shielded from his tears for as long as possible.

Ash stared up at the ceiling, eyes burning.

Maybe the problem was not that it was over, but that he knew it was for the best.

He had loved Gou, yes.

But he had loved Gary longer, and seeing his former rival come back into his life had turned everything on its head. Despite everything, Ash still loved Gary, and, as it turned out, when choosing between the two of them, Ash would pick Gary.

From an outsider's perspective, Gou and Gary may have appeared to be a sort of uncertain friendship, but Ash knew better.

But apparently not enough to save his relationship.

Forgetting all about not alerting his mom to his distress, Ash clambered to his feet. He had to get out of the house. He had to go somewhere else. The air, so clearly different from the winds that had blown through the trees on his many adventures, felt stuffy and all too warm. Even with the window cracked open, it was hard to hear the sounds of Pokemon around him, and the unnatural shape of rectangular shadows coming through the thin opening glowed with a very false looking sunset.

Despite traveling for so long, it seemed he was not quite ready to go back to a “normal” life, not quite yet.

He hadn’t removed his coat when jumping into his bed, but his bag and Pokemon were left behind as he left his room, crept down the stairs (past where his mother was cooking in the kitchen), and slipped out of the house. Once outside, he took a deep breath of air, but it was not quite right either. It was clean and cool, and tasted of a coming night time, but it was not what he was looking for.

Almost aimlessly, Ash began to walk. He walked between trees, houses, and occasional agricultural fields. The land of Pallet was nearly pristine, almost lacking entirely in pollution, and yet the air was not yet perfect.

He followed a small stream of water, not even thinking about where he was going as it winded down a hill, past the research station, past an old patch of red flowers, now mostly withered, and flowed into the sea. Ash looked up, as if only then he was realizing where his walk had taken him. The place wasn't the same as where his heart had longed to be, but the feeling of the wind over the huge expanse of water brought the very same feeling to his lungs.

He breathed in deeply, and let his mind run through memories.

As the sun sank, he remembered everything he could manage.

He had loved Gou, and though he knew it was going to be a while before those wounds stopped aching, he suddenly realized that he was feeling better in the presence of the air of the waterside. It was just as Gou had said, they would both be happier this way.

He had said it with a sad expression, and he had said it with a nod, when his group of explorers had walked back into view.

All the way home, Ash had wondered what he had meant, but now he knew.

This was not an ending, as the setting sun told him, but a new beginning. This was a chance to make his life good again, even better than what he had felt before. It had practically been a command, and who was he to disobey a former love’s last wish?

Ash turned to look behind him, looking up at the slow turning of the windmill of the lab.

It spun calmly, unshaken by what he was feeling, a constant in his life of constant changing, it seemed to represent the endless cycles he so often found himself in. He felt a rush of wind come across the ocean, and he hugged his hands to his chest. No matter what his past threw at him, he was going to find a place in his future.

He continued to watch as the lights of the lab flickered on, inviting an occupant back home, back into the embrace of the clean walls and bookshelves. Ash stared into one of the windows, and suddenly he was half sure that he had seen a familiar explosion of brown hair look back at him.

As Gou had told him, it was time to live their lives the way they wanted to, a way that was safer. Maybe for Ash, who had been traveling for who knew how long, that safety was right there at home.

Notes:

???? Idk if this fits the prompt. Comments very appreciated!

#palletshipping #palletshipping week #palletshipping week 2024 #pokeani #trainer ash #angst #post breakup #trainer gary #trainer gou #satogou #my writing #actual post

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