Venti - The Carefree Guardian

Thinking about Ex!Aventurine who doesn't have much of a reaction to your break-up, who is certain you'll crawl back to him within three days at most.

Ex!Aventurine who goes on about his life, after all, every second is worth precious credits. Days, weeks, months and then a few years pass and one day, the realization that you may actually have moved on from him crashes atop him like a pile of bricks.

Ex!Aventurine who tries to contact you through your number and social media, only to find that he's been blocked everywhere. No matter how many fake accounts he makes and how many texts and calls he sends you, you just don't respond and it frustrates him so much.

Ex!Aventurine who is ecstatic when he sees you again in Penacony, sprinting his way to you and ready to give you a hearty reprimand on your prolonged avoidance.

Ex!Aventurine whose heart sinks when he sees you coiled around the arms of another, smiling and laughing in pure happiness and paying not a millisecond of attention to him. Is this a joke?

Ex!Aventurine who corners you when an opportunity arises, ready to strangle every answer out of you so please tell him this is just some prank and you still love him—and, his heart shatters when you give him the coldest truth of his life.

Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who feels the nudging of an infamous green monster every time he sees you with them in the halls of the Reveries or in dreamscapes. Who wants to tear his hair out when he sees you giving that dreamy look to that vermin, one he thought belonged only to him? Who wants to tear that imbecile limb from limb every time he touches your skin.

Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who wishes to turn back time and drag you back to him. Who drowns himself in liquor, round after round at the casino and the sweetest of dream bubbles, yet, nothing compares to your warmth. Whose regret and jealousy slowly eat away at his left-over sanity til he's on the verge of committing something that'll soothe his agony but, create one for you.

Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who spares no warning, catapulting mysterious debts and financial troubles your way with no trace that it was his doing. But when you still don't leave your so-called lover, he finally snaps.

Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who takes it slow, one by one, patiently and meticulously ; first the fingers, then the legs, then the eyes and at last the heart of your ‘beloved’. But is not satisfied still and has every piece of their remains fed to hungry wolves right in front of your eyes.

Then, Yandere!(No longer Ex?)Aventurine will come to you and wipe away your tears, shush your curses and hateful words with a kiss. Telling you to forget and resume what you had with him. And you absolutely cannot say no, after all, what other choices do you even have?

---

Arataki Itto, Scaramouche/Balladeer / child female reader.

Synopsis: His reaction to you calling him “onii-san”.

— ( In Japanese folklore, tsukumogami are tools that have acquired a kami or spirit, and are also considered a type of youkai. Here, the reader is a weapon tsukumogami that has manifested in the form of a human child, and has gained the power to fight on her own and to wield herself. )

Kazuha, Thoma & Gorou ver. / Xiao ver.

#ARATAKI ITTO

Itto actually didn’t hear (y/n) the first time she called him “onii-san”, as he was too preoccupied in combing his bangs back after obliterating a group of nobushi that set up camp too close to Hanamizaka. (Y/n) pouted beside him as he continued to ignore her in favour of fixing his appearance, and she then tugged on his coat to draw his attention. The half-oni hummed, lowering his gaze to meet her eyes.

“What’s wrong, my lil kachimushi?” he asked, picking her up by her armpits, “You hungry? So am I! Let’s get you eel sushi, your favourite~” Before she could say anything in response, Itto tucked her under his arm like a sack of potatoes and rushed off to the city.

After he bought eel sushi for his tsukumogami, the pair made their way back to Hanamizaka, where they found a nice spot to sit in under the large cherry blossom tree. He leaned back against the trunk with his arms folded behind his head while she dug into her food.

“Are you hungry, kitty? Here, have some eel,” (y/n) chimed, offering a cat the small pieces of sushi on her palm.

Itto smiled at (y/n) fondly as he watched her share some of her food with the stray cats and dogs around her. She’s such a sweet child, yet so deadly when wielding her uchigatana. He first met her in front of her former master’s grave on a rainy day; the poor girl looked so pitiable, hugging her sword as her little body trembled from the cold. Thanks to his oni blood, he could tell right away that she’s a masterless tsukumogami. His heart went out to her and he decided to take her under his wing, a decision that he never regretted.

Besides the gang becoming more lively with her around, she’s a sword that brings the gift of luck to her master. Itto always emerged from his fights and bets victorious whenever she’s with him or simply nearby. Reaching out, Itto petted (y/n)’s head affectionately, making her look at him.

“What’s wrong, Itto-niisan?” she asked, blinking. His eyes widened when she called him big brother, and his jaw went slack in surprise. She misinterpreted his reaction as disapproval and started panicking. “I-I’m sorry, goshujin-sama! I was being disrespectful and deserve to be punished-” Her sentence was cut short when the half-oni suddenly pulled her into a tight hug.

“I promise you that I’m not mad. I’m actually really happy!” he exclaimed, breaking away from her with a beam, “Does that mean you’re finally comfortable talking to me? I was worried that you didn’t like being around me, since you address me so formally…” His grin faded as an uncharacteristically gentle expression softened his sharp features. “I want you to be happy with me, (y/n)-chan.”

(Y/n) flushed at his words and simply ducked her head to avoid his eyes.

“Can you say it again?” he implored.

Lifting her gaze, she timidly said, “Itto-niisan.”

“You’re so precious,” Itto told her, laughing afterwards. Pressing his forehead against hers, he then uttered, “I promise that I’ll never leave you alone, so you won’t have to sit under the cold rain again.”

A minuscule smile crawled over her lips before she moved to wrap her tiny arms around his torso. “I won’t let you die either, Itto-niisan. As long as you keep me by your side, victory will always be yours.”

Keep reading

Weak

Platonic!Yandere!Tartaglia x Child!Fem!Sister!Reader

The first time Ajax realized that he could lose you was when he accidentally overheard a conversation between his parents. The father comforted the mother, because that day they learned that their unborn child could die before giving birth. He was shocked and devastated, just as much as his parents. That night he cried almost until the morning, praying for your life and the life of his mother. Fortunately, everything went well, you were born weak, but alive and that was enough for him, now everything will be fine. At least, that's what he thought.

The second time you were three years old, when you were particularly ill. Of course, you were often get sick throughout your infancy, but he will never forget that terrible illness. He remembers how his parents fussed around your crib in a panic, on the first night of your illness. Then father ran away from home to get a doctor, and mother ran to the kitchen for something. At that moment Ajax came to your crib, he didn't fully understand the turmoil of adults, you didn't scream. However, when he saw your blue skin, and instead of the expected loud screams, he heard quiet heart-rending wheezes, everything fell into place. Even if his mother pushed him away almost as soon as he saw his younger sister, that picture and those wheezes were etched into his memory forever.

Now you were sick with another cold. Lying on the bed and covering yourself with a warm blanket, you prayed to all the archons that you would have time to get over the illness by the arrival of your older brother. After all, being sick next to Ajax is backbreaking work. He reacted to each of your illnesses as if you were dying, and took each of your sneezes as a confession of your imminent death. And this is not an exaggeration. When you got sick, he hardly left your bed, even at night Ajax just sat next to you. Sometimes, you gave slack, allowing him to lie next to you, at such moments he resembled a contented red cat.

"Y/n! Ajax is back!"

Teucer happily told you when he looked into the room, but as soon as he saw you lying in bed, he immediately stopped and guiltily lowered his head.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up..."

"No, it's okay, I didn't sleep. In fact, I'm already better and I've already recovered."

"Wow! Less than a day has passed, and you have already recovered! It's so cool!"

Looks like one of your brothers believed your clumsy lies. Maybe Ajax will believe it too? When you went downstairs with the Teucer, you saw your brother standing in the corridor, he had not yet had time to take off his warm coat when the Teucer hung on him.

"Teucer! My little rascal! I already thought there was no one at home..."

"Parents with Tonya and Anton went to the market. They didn't know you were coming back today, but I saw you from the window."

"Haha, I wanted to make a surprise, but it looks like my big-eyed brother caught me. But, Teucer, why didn't you go with the others?"

"I wanted to look after Y/n! She wasn't feeling very well this morning..."

Damn, Teucer! And how could you ever forget that he tells his older brother absolutely everything.

"...But she's better now."

"I see. But she is in bed now, ri...?"

And then his gaze clings to you, the atmosphere around him changes. With a heavy sigh, he lets go of Teucer, and taking off his glove, begins to feel your forehead with the back of his hand.

"Your forehead is hot, it looks like you have a fever... So, go get into bed, I'll be there soon."

"It's not my forehead that's hot, but your hands are cold..."

"Y/n, please don't try to seem strong and healthy, you are very weak and fragile. It's a pity that you still don't understand it yourself."

Fatalism ⊱⊰ Scaramouche

✤ she/her ✤ words: 9.5k

The oh-so-great Balladeer was a puppet on strings. Despite this, he has a dream to fulfill, and he would do whatever it takes to achieve it—even if it meant forsaking his 'heart'. But pride always comes before the fall. He could never ever write over fatalism.

✤platonic angst :) ✤we're going to break him all over yall

“Awaken.” commanded the Electro Archon as the heavens growled. 

The violet pool within the golden laver swirled, the entwined hands coruscating with a divine spark of Electro. Her command was obeyed, and two pairs of eyes opened at the same time. 

His birth was most unorthodox. Disparate in the sense that he wasn’t born of flesh and blood, but of methods inexplicable to human comprehension—even to him. 

It began with a tranquility like no other, enclosed in a spacious black void in which no other creature lived but his consciousness. But in that cloister of nothingness, he felt safe, he felt a closeness to something he couldn’t pinpoint. The contiguity would be ascertained soon after he heard an obdurate voice calling- ordering him to be roused from slumber. 

So he did. 

And he bore sight to his creator, his mother, the Electro Archon, as she regarded him with a countenance that spoke little of what she felt. Her hand upon his forehead was warm, but her eyes withheld an everlasting winter that bespoke of no potential summers.

She murmured something under her breath before withdrawing her hand and turning her back for a moment. An inauspicious action.

This churn of discomfort was set aside upon recognizing the same warmth somewhere on his limbs and he followed its origin. With a short incline of his head and a twist to the left, he blinked.

There were two sets of long tables, occupied by two figures, him included. His left arm was outstretched to the side, dipped into a gilded laver that contained a liquid tinted with violets that reminded him of his creator’s eyes. It shimmered and emitted a sense of divine power.

But what kept his hand warm in the cold pool was the hand of another. 

Her gaze upon him was a mirror of his own upon hers. She spoke not with her tongue but her [c] eyes, and he too, did the same. They were parallel to one another, distant yet entwined by their fingers that had the same length, down to the fingertips. 

They were both without a name, without a defined personality. Canvases that were white and stark, hoping to be filled with color. Hoping to be a magnum opus. 

He wouldn’t be able to utter anything in that moment, as they were then separated, whisked away by strangers that appeared to be of service to the Electro Archon. He would only see his mother and that girl he reckoned to be his twin sibling later in a privy room, where the tall woman would first come to his sibling, who dipped her head. 

Her figure would close in on itself, glowing [c] until she became nothing but a small accessory floating upon their creator’s palm. It—his sister—had become tinier than his own hand. 

“A pawn piece,” a voice came from the left, and a sly-looking woman with pink hair hummed. “How appropriate for you to liken her to one.”

“But of course,” responded his mother. “If the puppet is to hold the Gnosis, then I must first see if he can handle something in its likeness. She holds at least half of the power, and for that I see no reason not to shape her as a pawn. I surmise it is the only piece in the board untouched by the Heavenly Principles.”

The foxy woman smiled impishly as she concluded. “For though pawns are capable of attaining majesty, they are still expendable.”

“Precisely. Now..”

The Electro Archon came upon him, her violet gaze stormy and steely as she neared the floating ‘pawn piece’ closer to his chest. “May your being be emboldened by that which is meant to be your core; a prototype heart of power.” 

Like congealed water, the piece disappeared through his clothes, into his skin, and into his very being. What previously was a mere accessory took a different shape in his consciousness, and he felt whole.

Complete. It was a feeling like no other. 

Raiden Ei hummed, satisfied at the sight of the spark of life in the puppet’s eyes. “So it has worked.” 

“A good thing, isn’t it?” Yae Miko questioned, her tail swaying leisurely at her back. “But her very case is a pseudo-power half of what is authentic, no?”

“Yes and no.” The little puppet did not understand what they were speaking of, there was only the innate kind of euphoria provided by the comfort of the pawn piece within him—his own heart. It was his twin sibling, his other source of power, if he managed to comprehend the conversation correctly. 

He felt full, like when he first opened his eyes and saw his mother. Felt safe, when he saw that his birth was in synchronicity with his heart. 

So when the hand plunged back into his chest like nothing to retrieve the small pawn, it felt as though he was engulfed in a banquet's inferno. His limbs lit with flames and it was difficult to get a grasp of his environment, mind befuddled, voice lost.

He could barely see the way the priestess scrutinized him as a different item was thrust into his chest. 

It was bigger and weighed much more. It was a heart that thrummed with so much divinity and power that he turned statuesque in its glory. The difference was profound. 

His little heart—his twin, rather—held a peace akin to a nest of comfort, but the heart his mother had newly provided was laden with somber wisdom. He sensed not the presence of the girl who bore only the slight likeness to him, but he felt that of a different one, kind and prudent, yet desolate with life. It was so much that it brought tears to his eyes.

And thus, with a sharp, narrowed look of his creator, the decision was set in stone. 

Not even a fortnight—no, a fortnight was most generous. Not even a week, and they’ve been forsaken.

“I need not a vessel whose gaze was more scrupulous than callous. He isn’t fit for the purpose I built him for.” 

Haunting words.

“And what of the nexus you built with him? Essentially, they are one.”

Sickening truths. 

“... She is a prototype I am not disposed to confine, either.”

Vexing failures. 

Reminders of the reason as to why he had pursued this path. Too many betrayals, too many faux promises, and too little mercy in a world that was filled with naught but the evil end of the spectrum. 

The puppet clicked his tongue as he gazed upon the lacerations on his skin, his clothes torn and tattered, fringed off the hems with licking flames. He stared at the remnants, condemning the beasts inwardly with a series of curses only unfortunate peers ever had the tragedy of knowing. 

“Closer,” he murmured as the mob dispersed, only for another horde to approach. “Closer, and closer..” to greatness. 

The Abyss was even more ruthless than the surface world of Teyvat, yet he found the darkness within it reminiscent of the void that came before his creation. He ignored the sting of his injuries and opted to gird himself with the beckon of power. 

“Don’t push yourself.” the warning was in his head, but it sounded as if the voice came from behind him, always in his shadow. “I can’t have the Doctor poking needles into you as though you’re a labrat again.”

Funny, isn’t that what he was to that man, anyway? Besides, that sort of event happened each time he returned from his expeditions and battles in the Abyss. 

“Kunikuzushi.” the voice was stern. 

“Fine.” 

He always meant to go overboard, that was a metier fit only for someone of his constitution. Fragile and enervated humans couldn’t hold a candle to his sturdiness as a puppet, and it was primarily this facet of his existence that corroborated his mileage to the Fatui.

So, he welcomed it with open arms, for he knew this path, though toilsome and arduous, would pave the road to his fate as a god.

He had forgotten the exact length of his ‘tarry’ in the sinister Abyss, but the darkness was a close companion that he’d known for his whole life. 

In the rare interludes in which there would be no scourge or cataclysm in his stygian ventures in the otherworldly realm, he would rest and allow the extent of his injuries to overwhelm him. Only then would there be an effulgent flicker in the suffocating coat of black, coming upon his will.

His twin sister embodied that light, as she was a creation more mystifying than he was in essence. 

She was—as he recalled his creator called her—his heart, who awoke in his moment of sheer desperation when he tried to ask the Electro Archon for help many centuries ago, and who had been with him ever since. 

Humans were born with one, and he was created with her in a similar aspect, and both their eyes opened at the same time. 

A puppet with a heart.

Kabukimono and Nisemono. 

Kunikuzushi and Kenkoroshi.

Names that undoubtedly would only stockpile on the other as they traversed this path to their shared dream. 

His heart was his main source of power.

Yes, he was strong on his own, but his sister was created from the godly power of Raiden Ei, emboldened by the influence of the Gnosis—the piece that was meant to be his. It meant that his sister was essentially a lesser version of the Gnosis, a facsimile—an imitation.

 

It was a connotation that conjured a frown on her usually blank face, but one that was wiped off with ease whenever Kunikuzushi would remind her that he was a literal puppet created in the likeness of their creator. There was a peculiar comradery in their shared existence as imitations, but that did not void their identities as ‘creatures of their own’. 

Kunikuzushi would receive word from one of Harbingers themselves to return to Snezhnaya sometime later when he would be in one of his seldomly taken respites. The puppet would wordlessly stare at his hand, which was in the grasp of his twin sister, who had taken up a corporeal form to accompany him in the physical realm.

He never failed to assert that it wasn’t needed—for he could literally hear her voice in his head—, but she also never failed to exhort that accompanying him physically was a different kind of company in itself. He disliked how it was a sound reason, so he relented every time. 

This mutually indulgent quietude was infrequently broken by either two, but it was fractured by the ‘pawn’ the second they arrived in Snezhnaya. Personally escorted by a handful of Fatui soldiers upon the Jester’s management following the order to return from the Abyss, she tugged away at his sleeve. 

“Something weighs the wind.”

During times like these, when she would speak in riddles and figures, the puppet would be less than enthused, yet he humored her. It was inexplicable, but his twin always seemed to have some kind of prescience. 

“It doesn’t feel dangerous, though.” Ah, so that meant it was something good. 

Kunikuzushi could not help the snark in his voice as he responded. “I’m disposed to believe that you’re lying in the face of our ‘life’s’ usual pessimism. When has anything remotely good ever come to stay?” 

“This one will, perhaps.”

It was unnecessary to tone down their voices, even though their peers regarded them with puzzlement. Why should they? No one would understand the context of their conversation, anyway. 

The factuality of Kenkoroshi’s presage would be ascertained in a castle bespeckled with the rigidity of snowflakes. Diamond flakes annealed with solemn ‘love’, sharpened as though to appear like icy dirks, yet refined as if they also symbolize frozen tears. 

The loveless motherland of Snezhnaya was a wintery Kingdom he had only come to at least once or twice. Little did he know, as his twin retreated back into the pawn piece in his chest, that he’d later be acclimated to the snow that was as pale and bleak as his perspective of life. 

“You are hereby appointed as the Sixth Harbinger, take upon a new name as Scaramouche, the Balladeer.”

Ah. So that was what the entourage was for. 

The Tsaritsa was with the voice of a daemon, yet the undertone withheld the echo of a lamenting cherub. Time was scant to bother wondering over why—after all, it wasn’t like it was a responsibility or duty of his to answer to the Cryo Archon’s emotions. He was yet to even cross his own quagmires. 

His inauguration as the Sixth Harbinger, the Balladeer, was well-received and esteemed within the Fatui, but he had no doubts that it was because it was mere pleasantries. The rest of the Harbingers could hardly be impressed, but that was his own personal conjecture, for they showed probable facades that probably belied their ennui. 

The celebration lasted a week, and he came to admit the complication in adjusting to the sudden attention brought with the bestowment of a rank he had come to travail over. 

On the eve of its final day, he was ‘alone’ in his personal quarters that were leagues above what he was used to. Or perhaps he should rephrase that and mention that it had been a long time since he had chambers he could call his own, one that supposedly matched the majesty of his identity.

The last time he had something of this splendor, he was still on the watch of the Electro Archon, and that lasted less than five days.

What an irritating reminder. 

“Is this everything you sought for?” as always, Kenkoroshi’s hand was void of any kind of temperature–she was insipid in a literal fashion, and it wasn’t meant to vilify her existence as an imitation. 

For a moment, Kunikuzushi—no, Scaramouche, was quiet.

It had been a long and exhausting week of celebration, no matter the novelty and pride it brought him to be able to reach such a monumental stone in his ‘life’.

He looked down at the hand on his own, finding [not admitting] the gesture comforting. It was a reticent gesture between them, to just hold hands whenever they were alone—it was homage to their ‘birth’, when they awoke to an unknown world.

They had nothing, no knowledge, just the hand of the other and their presence and existence split as two but deemed as one. 

“No.” He answered later, “I wish for what was meant to be mine.”

The Gnosis. 

In a fleeting moment, he sensed her slight tension before it was easily awashed with her usual nonchalance. “... Why do you covet it so much?”

He scoffed. That was a stupid question, why else would he want something that was his in all putative angles of logic and reason? He was solely created for it.

“My purpose—no, my destiny. It was mine, that power.”

“And my power is not enough for you?”

Snezhnayan winters were algid—bone-chilling. Albeit he was far too acclimated to such temperatures and was far from being bothered, he could feel its biting frost on his skin, still. It was something that a measly hearth in the far left of his chambers could ever hope to drub.

Yet the question that she asked sent a chill down his spine. She asked it with the same, monotonous delivery, but for some reason, it sounded much heavier in his conscience. He despised it. 

“Adequate enough.” He deigned to respond, their hands motionlessly entwined, still.  “Enough to last until my birth as a god.”

There was no response. He despised that, as well. 

For the first time that night, he turned to her—only to find her [c] gaze pointed towards the crackling flames of the hearth. He almost heard the crisp sound of burning wood and could almost smell the scent of burning flesh, but that was a memory in the crevices of his mind. Imageries and sounds that forego his mission to be divine. 

“You’ll help me, won’t you, my dear twin.” there wasn’t exactly venom in his voice, just a poignant edge that prompted the [c]-haired pawn to look at him. When she said nothing again, he clicked his tongue. 

“Kenkoroshi.” he admonished. 

Finally, she answered.

“I will.” He could tell that it was genuine, it just took her some time to respond. 

Good. With that, he turned away, and she did as well, though their hands remained connected. It wasn’t sooner when he spoke again, his tone carrying a sense of realization and pride altogether. 

“We’ve to think of a new name for you. I’ve already taken up another. Any grand ideas?” 

Silence. He wasn’t surprised. He was the one that offered to establish themselves with new names each time they decided to leave a piece of unwanted tragedy behind, so it came to perspicuous reason that he was to do the honors again—

“[Name].” in awe, he turned to her. “I’ll go with [Name].”

The astonishment would’ve lasted had she worn an actual expression on her face. He did not give any sort of critique about her chosen name, however. He simply nodded, testing the name on his tongue. 

“Good.” he squeezed her hand. “A new chapter burns bright. One step closer to the finale.”

Their work was cut out as a Harbinger, although, technically speaking—[Name] wasn’t the Harbinger. Missions for the Tsaritsa and her endeavors proceeded without fail, and under those zealous quests, she was aware that the Harbingers had personal assignments of their own. 

It was ostensible in an organization like the Fatui, she knew, that people’s interactions were transactions in their own right. Her twin brother preferred to intuit it the same way, in contrast to her own beliefs. When she told him of this, that she thought that there needn’t be any ulterior motives to causeries, he rolled his eyes.

“I looked at the world similarly once.. Look where that landed us.” he had sardonically quipped, and the conversation ended there.

Still, even with the facts transfixed, the way she conceived things did not change. It was to the chagrin of her sibling, but he did little to dissuade her from thinking otherwise—for she knew that as long as it wasn’t an impediment to his goal, he’d let her do and think as she pleased. 

He was bitter about it, though, later on mumbling that the ‘ginger-head war addict’ must’ve influenced her. He spoke of Tartaglia, the young soldier who somehow found and believed that there could be goodness in a league that founded morally questionable coups and schemes, the pawn noted.

Although she never truly met the youth who eventually came to be promoted as the Eleventh Harbinger face to face—her existence wasn’t broadcasted for the entire organization to know—maybe, she thought, maybe she was influenced a tad.

Or perhaps she always was just meant to be on the spectrum in opposition to her twin. 

It had always been that way since the start of their lonesome ventures and idiosyncrasies about the nation of Inazuma. 

When he had gotten jaded over the betrayals the world had thrown them in, he swore to scrub every trace of emotion that stained him until not even vestiges could be sensed. Yet, here he still was, the one who felt emotions the most. It was not to disregard the fact that she could also feel, but rather, he was just a feelings-kind of puppet and there was nothing wrong with that. 

Scaramouche said that it was because he had her, his heart, so he could feel. 

[Name], ever circumspect, was worried—but she knew it to be true. If he had no heart, if he just had power, then what would he be like? She didn’t want to imagine it.

What, exactly? Didn’t want to imagine him without a heart? Or didn’t want to imagine him with all the power he could ask for? She didn’t know, either, and that in itself was frightening. 

He assured that he would not get rid of her, however, he always did—for they were twins, they were two beings as one. Kabukimono and Kunikuzushi said it himself, and she took comfort in that. 

But a wise man knew better. Someone, a third party guided and led by pragmatism and reason, stated otherwise. 

“While it is true that you were created as an expendable tool, even the most churlish will know that your power is valuable.”

[Name] merely shook her head, her legs swinging absently as she sat on a rather tall, metal table that surely must’ve felt cold to most humans. “I’m not interested in your spiel, sir. Spare me the talk.”

The Doctor was that wise man, Dottore, the Second Harbinger. From the start, he had been fascinated by their existence as one being split in two, and whether he was intrigued by which one if specificity was in context, well, she didn’t know. 

He unnerved her; his wisdom, his tact, and his rationales. 

“Come now, there’s no harm in being honest, is there? The Balladeer isn’t awake.” 

She didn’t like how he somehow knew how to transfix ideas through her head, a feat none other than Kabukimono could do. The former was a formidable man, and she had forgotten how many times she expressed that to the puppet. 

“I would not have furthered this level of strength without Dottore’s pricking needles,” he had told her before. “So just put up with it.”

Kabukimono was powerful with her, but the Doctor unsealed the hidden strength—that was a truth that she could not deny. So, as advised, she tolerated the Sumerian. Her patience was running thin, however. 

The number of Dottore’s laboratories exceeded the amount of fingers a human had. Throughout her time in the Fatui, she had gone to visit them all, and aside from the location of each tool and table, the interior looked ever the same—not to mention the scent of rubbing alcohol and antiseptic. Nowadays, or ever since he had unlocked the full capacity of Kunikuzushi’s powers, it carried the scent of something inexplicable. 

It might’ve come from the odd, violet substances she always saw him inject into her sibling.

“You may try to hide under that expressionless facade, but I know you are just as emotional. Not even he knows that, does he?”

The Doctor’s footsteps reverberated in the silent laboratory, coupled with the clinks and clanks of the tools in the metallic tray beside the equally metallic table. 

She ignored him, opting to regard the place where Kunikuzushi laid to act as some kind of distraction. To Sandrone, it was an inventing table as much as it was a dissecting one. She mentioned that the names differ with purpose, so if she were to account that into the present, then was it something akin to an inventing table??

The Doctor stopped in front of her, and since her line of sight was pointed to the floor, she was staring at his neatly shined footwear. By then, with him up front, she knew there was no use in blocking out whatever he wished to blabber about. 

“It’s precisely the reason why he exploits your power. Because someone who can’t ‘feel’ is therefore less apt to act out on sentimental grounds. They simply obey—like a tool.” 

Ah, if he meant to incite something by means of depreciating—more like likening—her existence to her twin sibling, then it was unlikely to work. From the genesis of it all, she already knew who she was. What she was. It came with innate acceptance, so there was no way she’d ever think of herself as more than that; a tool. 

“Because that is my purpose for living, to be used as his source of power.” 

“Purpose for living or existing? There’s a difference.” Of course, the Doctor always had a rebuttal, and they were eloquent. “Are you truly alive?”

A good question to ruminate over; was she alive? She was, but was she living or existing? 

The answer, albeit unsaid, was reticent between them. She was simply existing because she came to this world as such. Beyond the names and purposes she had been given, there was nothing of her own will. Or at least, nothing that extended beyond her will to serve as a means of power.

There was nothing wrong with that… she liked to believe. 

It was like being a Vision to a Vision-holder. 

The sight of the Doctor’s feet ambling away recaptured her attention, and so, she looked up for once. She glanced at him with his hands at his back, his steps taken leisurely as he wandered about the cold, sterile laboratory. She wished she hadn’t though, for it seemed like he knew whenever someone looked at him, for he tilted his head to meet her eyes with a small, sharp smile. 

“You mention being more than fine with being used, but I doubt that it doesn’t bother you, not when you know of his objective.”

He turned to her and she stiffened.

“You don’t wish to see him be a god, am I correct, [Name]?”

The place grew even colder than it normally was. 

She felt as though she was being adjured and criticized at the same time as the Doctor detoured to traipse back to her location upon the table next to the sleeping figure of the Balladeer. Subconsciously, she scooted closer to the latter, his presence her sanctuary, be it awake or not. 

Her lacking response seemed only to serve as reason for him to continue and oh—

“Because once the Gnosis is fully in his hands, then he will have no use for you anymore. And you don’t want that, no?”

—how she hated it. 

“Be quiet.” she mumbled. 

He did not stop. “As far as I know, the Electro Archon created both of you at the same time; him, in the likeness of your mother, but to be a vessel. And you, in the likeness of a Gnosis, you are his heart…”

“Be quiet.” she demanded, this time transferring her gaze to her sleeping twin brother in dire hopes of the sight of him easing the turmoil in her chest. It was rare that she felt willful acrimony, as more often she was influenced by Kunikuzushi.

But now—now she felt its poignant swath within, which left no room to circumvent the intense emotion. The Doctor knew this, of course, he always knew when anyone’s buttons were pressed, it was in his repertoire of endless moxies. 

“... A heart that he’ll willingly cast aside in favor of reclaiming true divinity.” he whispered close to her ear and she snapped.

“I said be quiet!”

Dottore retreated with a smile as he felt an invisible shockwave cleave through the atmosphere, distorting space itself. His laboratory, which was pristine and kempt a mere second ago was now in complete disarray. Broken test tubes and glass lay scattered, metallic tables and shelves were capsized, and charts and papers were either torn or a mess.  

Tiny zips and zaps of electricity surrounded [Name], ensconced by the power that was created in imitation of a true Gnosis. It flickered and jolted like a shield, warning the Doctor not to take a step further—ah, she was an elaborate picture of power. Her [c] hair floated all around her figure, [c] eyes gone, replaced with stark white. It looked like she could float off the ground at any moment or launch things to her will. 

He understood thoroughly her ability, despite being ‘faux’. It was the power the Balladeer often harnessed.

A power that still held hidden potential. 

“Mother? Sister? There’s no such thing as familial bonds to a pawn and a puppet. It is as you said, you are just an expendable pawn.” he spoke, noticing how in spite of the destruction from her rare outburst, the table Scaramouche was laying on remained untouched.

Oh, how she cared for him. The Doctor grinned. Perfect.

“But I can make you greater than you are now.”

The gradual return of the pawn to her ‘docile’ state cemented his conjecture; he had her hook, line, and sinker.

“What do you mean?”

[Name] was seldom swayed by promises. Compared to Kunikuzushi, she had always been a tad more cynical, but the Second Harbinger was a man of his word despite his devious and unscrupulous manner of handling affairs. She knew he was genuine—and that was what made his offer so tempting that she could not resist asking him to elaborate. 

And he gladly did. 

“I’ve only tapped and tinkered with the gears of your ‘twin brother’, and have unlocked a myriad of possibilities. What if I were to do the same unto you—his main power reserve? In theory, you will become far better than what you are now.”

He was not vigilant, he was far too complacent as he trailed his steps back to her, his towering figure peering down from his mask. 

He snapped his fingers. “You mentioned that taking up a physical form and consciousness demands power from your very being, no? This means that if you seal your consciousness and become a simple pawn piece as you were originally created, then he will be able to use your power as freely as he wishes. Without thresholds.”

Sacrifice her consciousness and physical form to be a raw core of power-?

“You will be enough.” he added. “Don’t you want that?”

She sucked in a breath. “I..”

It was everything she wanted; being enough. To her chagrin, she was reminded of the night of her twin’s inauguration as the Sixth, in those chilly, chilly quarters where she took up a new name. She recalled asking the question she dreaded the most.

“And my power is not enough for you?”

She did not have a heart of her own, but she could easily grasp the emotion she always felt whenever she was with him in the aftermath of his tragedies; dread. Fear. 

“Adequate enough.” his voice was still clear in her mind, “Enough to last until my birth as a god.”

That time, the world blanked out on her—she had so many things to say. So many things to ask. 

When had he become so detached from their inherent bond to the point of saying without hesitance that he would disregard her as soon as his godly form was built? As soon as he was fit to centralize the Gnosis he had taken from their [mother] creator? They had been together for so long it was not even an exaggeration.

For centuries, through the names, there had been no one but her and him. And countless tragedies that shouldn’t be named. 

Wasn’t it she that held him close when they awakened in the domain as he shuddered and cried when they realized that they were abandoned? Wasn’t it she that was with him through thick and thin, holding his delicate hand that refused to leave hers when Katsuragi and Niwa welcomed them in Tatarasuna? Wasn’t it she that accompanied him in the Abyss? 

She, that promised that she would not let their story as twins be as tragic as the supposedly blessed encounters they had with humans.

[Name] had done her part, she had done exceedingly well, she knew. He even told her countless times. So why—why, why, why did he even begin to entertain the idea of casting her aside? It was unfair, it was unacceptable. 

Ah! She was to blame. 

There was bliss in ignorance, and she chose to be willfully ignorant. Ever since the death of the child that succumbed to Tataragami, he burned and charred the ambitions he usually had. She remembered watching the little doll in his likeness turn into ash and couldn’t help but assimilate it to him.

For in a way, he and the little doll were one and the same. 

Except, the little toy doll had no heart of silver, but Kunikuzushi had one; her. 

She had refused to believe it then, but the moment he denounced emotions, he denounced her existence. Sure, it wasn’t her that directly influenced how he felt, because even without her in his chest he could still feel—but in essence, wasn’t that the ability of a heart?

To make one feel? So when he anathematized emotions, he condemned her willfully.

Shared dream?

No, it was but a mere bandaid to swathe over her insecurity.

It was only her dream because it was her twin’s. There was only one thing that they shared—the same fear of abandonment. Kunikuzushi had grown strong, he chose not to consort with humans any longer for they were the progenitors of their angst and pain. It would no longer hurt if he was the one to shut down and do the abandonment. 

Where did that leave her? 

The signs were all present ever since the Doctor and the Jester gave him a place in the Fatui organization, in a land of loveless frost. He was set on obtaining the Gnosis, set on becoming a power of pure and utter authentic divinity like he was meant to be. 

And that path did not include her, because she was a simple imitation with a power that was only half the legitimacy of the Gnosis’ power. 

He sought more, and that ‘more’ was something she could no longer provide—or so she thought. 

“Well, [Name]?” she became aware of where she was at the moment and blinked. 

For once, she was not doubtful nor fearful of the Doctor, she was hopeful. And it was a dangerous thing to feel around the guileful scholar, but at that very second, she did not care. In the face of a promise that would serialize and cement her future with her twin sibling, how could she start to care about anything else?

Power… she needed it to be enough. 

If she was powerful enough, then he would not need to cast her away. 

“I–”

There was shuffling from the other end of the room that prevented her from speaking further. 

“What’s all the racket for?” Kunikuzushi was waking up with that permanent scowl on his face, his eyes briefly glimpsing the mess that was the laboratory. He looked confused, but not enough to warrant his actual concern. “What, an experiment gone wrong?”

“No. The doctor just got clumsy.” [Name] responded stiffly as she turned to walk over to the Sixth Harbinger.

The Doctor nodded, raising his hands. “My hands do get rather shaky sometimes.”

A stupid lie that was. 

Obviously, it did not work on Kunikuzushi, but he remained indifferent. The pawn knew that as long as it had nothing to do with him, then it did not matter. 

She held his arms to steady him as he swung his legs off the table, but he shrugged her off. It was rude at worst and nonchalant at best, but with the pitiful memories fresh in her mind and the fear throbbing in her, it affected her immensely. Her fingers twitched. 

He did not notice as he gruffly said, “I can walk fine on my own.”

He could and he did. He was stronger. During the first line of experiments he was put through, he required her assistance to get by, but he didn’t now. Did he remember, or was she the only one who relived those times? 

Who am I kidding? She thought with a lump in her throat as he passed by her without so much as a second glance. He dares not think about episodes that entail any of his weaknesses. 

He had grown so much during the course of the centuries, and he had developed a zealous attitude that was admirable as it was intimidating. Intimidating and fearful on her side, because she knew she was shackled on borrowed time. 

Wordlessly, she followed after the Sixth Harbinger, her head kept straight despite the weight she felt that tempted her to look down. As she passed by, Dottore’s words were quiet, serving to be heard by no one else but the one who had the need to hear it. 

“Think about my offer, will you?”

She did think about it. In fact, nothing else had been in her mind except for the offer he proposed; a promise of power. Whilst accepting it may not vouch for her stay as her twin’s heart, it presented a chance.

And to her, a chance was all she needed. 

“Kunikuzushi,” she called one day after he had overlooked the progress of building his godly form, Shouki no Kami. She had been in his mind when she spoke, and could not deny the sting of alarm when he regarded her with frustration, demanding what it was she required. 

“Scaramouche.” he corrected. 

She conceded. “Scaramouche.”

He had been rather perturbed the last few days because of the Traveler, but that aside, he was delighted. She could feel him agog with the idea of finally claiming the Gnosis, of finally being dubbed a rightful deity. 

“Must you really seek the Gnosis?” she questioned without tact. No beating around the bush, just a direct question, which surprised him, she knew. 

The puppet stopped in his tracks, the shadows cast by the sunset across the colonnade enshrouding him in its twilit curtain. Over the centuries he had been with his sibling, not once had she asked about their shared dream. He thought nothing of it, but he was oddly irked that she did—perhaps it was because of the Traveler that she did. 

[Name] always was the most acquiescent between them. He wouldn’t be surprised if the Traveler’s spiel about morality had managed to dent her thinking process. 

“What do you think?” he remarked, resuming his steps. “The Gnosis is my objective for the last hundred years. Do you think I’d replace it for anything else when I am one step closer to reaching my goal?”

There was silence in his head. For the last few days, [Name] had been quiet, there was nothing new to that, but her current muteness was unsettling.

The bitterness within him gyrated his thoughts and spun them negatively, but before he could speak, she already beat him to it.

“If I’m powerful enough,” he did not like where that phrase was going. “... if I’m powerful enough, will you not take the Gnosis?” 

A look of incredulity arose from his expression as he proceeded to traipse towards the workshop, the towering gears and turning wheels welcoming his arrival. 

“Do you realize how ridiculous that question is, [Name]? I’ve been created for the Gnosis, it was my destiny to seize.” his words were acerbic and factual, but why would that matter when it was the truth? Besides, [Name] was used to it. There was no need to worry. 

“Besides,” he gruffly stated as the elevator took him up to the next level where his godly form awaited, powered by the Electro Gnosis. “We both know you’re a mere imitation of the Gnosis, your power is only ‘half of what is authentic’, a pseudo-power, if you will. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that?”

“I haven’t..” her voice was tiny, but it was firm. 

“Good.” 

He huffed as he was brought to the top floor, wherein he was greeted with the mighty mechanical form that he will soon occupy. The Sages that have turned from their pitiful Dendro Archon were already present, alongside the Doctor, who passed a small wave of formality. 

Of course she wouldn’t forget that piece of crucial information, it was the very definition of her being; a tool used for empowerment. 

He began to walk towards his future, but with each step he took, he found it heavy to press on. His eyebrows furrowed and his chest twisted. There was only one explanation for such sensations and he knew what it was and where it was coming from. 

“Where will I go when you acquire the Gnosis?” her next question made it harder to walk forward. “What will happen to me, Kunikuzushi?” 

“Don’t call me that.” he gritted his teeth. 

The Sages and the Doctor were too preoccupied with whatever conversation they were having to notice his balking. Whatever—he preferred it that way. 

His voice low, he proceeded to snap. “And how am I supposed to know? We may be twins, but we’re two different beings. I’m not in charge of delegating what you wish to concern yourself with after I become a god. Do whatever you want.”

His body felt cold. 

“We’re not different,” she protested. “I’m your heart. I’m a part of you.” 

“Then do you support me gaining a new Gnosis?” he asked. “If we are one and the same, then my ideals are yours and so are my dreams. Tell me, do you want me to be a god to fulfill that dream?”

Silence. The world was slow as he waited, unbreathing. 

When the answer came, he was not surprised—not any longer. 

“I still want to stand with you.” 

It was not a direct answer to his question, but given that he had known her for so long, he knew the implication she endeavored to convey through those equivocal words. To this, he laughed sardonically, feeling his chest twist in some kind of bitter acquiescence.

“In other words,” he chuckled. “No, you don’t want me to be a god. You want me to remain shackled to your inadequate power when you know that I seek more?” 

“I can be stronger!” her voice rose in his head and he faltered in genuine surprise. Not once had he ever heard her raise her voice. But that awe gave way for resentment. 

Scaramouche balled his hands into fists, feeling his anger rise and bubble. There was no use in hiding it because this conversation was pointless! From the moment he burned that child’s house down and left everything in the ashes of time, he had made up his mind—he was resolute in becoming a true deity.

They both knew what that implied. 

“Even if you can, you’re just a phony Gnosis.” the words cut and stung, he knew. He was not reviling her in any way because it was the cold, hard truth. “Why else would she create you in the likeness of a measly pawn piece in the chessboard?”

“Even pawns are capable of attaining majesty!” ah, yes, Guji Yae said that herself, that even pawn pieces could be Queens and any other stronger pieces upon reaching theend of the board, but this was no chess game. 

It did not remove in essence, the fact that his twin’s power was not authentic. There was no ‘end of the board’ for her to reach—this was her limit and they both knew that. 

Baring his teeth, the Balladeer trudged on despite the heaviness in his chest weighing him down. He refused to be swayed by a sentimental sibling. Zealous in his steps, he disregarded the growing feel of dread for he knew it was not his emotion, but his twin’s.

It was a sickening feeling and he despised it, so he forwarded with zero hesitation. 

“Quit it. All I hear is my own twin sister refusing to let me achieve the dream I’ve always chased after.” 

He had hoped they would be on the same page—after all, hadn’t it always been the world against them? Them against the world? It left a hollow feeling inside and he swore he felt his eyes burn, but he did not succumb to such a pathetic weakness. He wasn’t a human, nor did he want to be. 

“Our dreams were meant to be shared.” he heard her voice falter. “We were meant to work together.” 

He never thought her to be this sentimental. But he supposed that after that conversation they had a few days ago, she was more inclined to feeling emotions just as he was [forcibly].

The Doctor welcomed him as he stopped in front of them, his hat tipped down to obscure his expression from their prying eyes. He answered his twin sibling sullenly, in a mere whisper. 

“Yeah, I thought so, too.”

“Kabuki—”

The Balladeer thrust his hand in his chest, retrieving the pawn piece—his sister—from the spacious dimension within him. Immediately, her voice ceased to exist in his mind and all was silent. Withdrawing, he looked at the small item in his hand, glowing a faint [c], as if urging, insisting—begging him to return her where she belonged. 

But he could no longer look at it with distant fondness. Now, there was only betrayal. 

I thought so, too. He repeated his own defeated response in his head as the Doctor stepped forward. 

“It’s time, Balladeer.” Dottore smiled. 

The puppet looked up at him, then back at the pawn piece, which he gripped tightly in one hand, as if willing himself to shatter it into pieces—but he did not. He realized that, even with her gone, his chest was hollow. But that did not matter, for he would soon be filled with a power that could void the emptiness inside. 

“I know.” he scowled, pocketing the faux Gnosis as the Sages adjusted the mechanical body, opening the cockpit which held a number of tubes and other small equipment. 

He stepped into it as the familiar aura of the Electro Gnosis captured his attention, glimpsing it just in time before it was inserted in the center piece of the body that bore the insignia of Electro. He looked back as the Doctor spoke, though the latter’s line of sight seemed to be directed elsewhere on his person.

“We will begin the process. Are you prepared?” Dottore smiled placidly. 

What a stupid question. It seemed like he was being bombarded with tons of it today, but no matter, for this coming dawn was to be a divine advent. 

Scaramouche allowed his hand to fall beside him, subtly feeling the figure of the small piece of faux power in his pocket as he answered.

“Of course I am.” 

He was awakened not as the perfidious Sixth Harbinger that had absconded his position, but as a newly born god. It was a dreamless sleep, filled with the thrum of divine power. 

“Do you remember?” Cloaked from within the penumbra of a false sky, two beings stood—not quite human, yet capable of humanity, regardless.

One so refused to act on it, not any longer, at least. And the other remained in the grey.

The wind was howling with the nightly breeze of Sumeru, cold, and chilly, but it affected neither. A voice spoke, sounding blank. “I do not understand the need to tirelessly search for a heart… when you’re already capable of feeling, anyway.”

“Such outdated information, I don’t seek a heart any more.” Cut a voice so sharp the wind stopped. “I’m looking to crush these filthy emotions. You should, too.”

Silence. It wasn’t the uncomfortable kind, but it was tense with acquiescence, a muted clash of perspectives, ones demanding to be forced upon the other. The response came, sounding bland, if not defeated.

“No.”

That was the last proper conversation they had—it was annoying to recall such things, especially during a time when he was battling against the pesky Traveler who knew nothing but to scupper his plans.

He didn’t know why he would recall it now out of all times, as he heaved breath after breath, the power from the tubes slotted into the sockets of his back not enough to cement his victory.

“I don’t think I will.”

So annoying, so, so infuriating everything was. Everything be damned to hell.

He could almost see her stupid blank face in the back of his mind; he knew she would be disappointed, but when was she not? For someone who put emotions on such a pedestal, she knew only how to be dismayed by him. Well, good riddance.

“I quite like feeling.”

Good riddance, indeed,  as the ginormous mechanical figure that housed a supposed god fell to its knees. What a weakling he was, putting himself above others who he deemed unfit for the world; humans who succumbed to desperation like a beggar to a coin.

Yet there he was, the same miserable picture of the puppet he swore to no longer be, hand outstretched towards a Gnosis meant to be his, but arbitrary fate deemed should never be.

The pain of hitting the ground was dull compared to the various other experiments he went through in all the years being a subject to the Doctor’s experiments—and though he thought his own consciousness would pity and leave him be, it did not.

Through the ringing of his ears, he heard Buer usher the damned Traveler elsewhere. And the fact that they did not once acknowledge his pitiful descent only went to show how he truly was a puppet strung along in the grand scheme of a play dolled up by the fate of this accursed world.

“Scaramouche.”

He could not move, no, he did not have the strength and will to move at the moment. His crushing defeat was like a torrent that swallowed him underwater, flooding his being and forcing him to think of nothing but it as he drowned further.

The Doctor’s figure as he hovered over him, like what a scientist would to a specimen, displayed the kind of hierarchy there currently was in the battlefield meant to be the location of his rise as a god.

A failed one.

“It may be difficult to see, what with your pitiful state right now, but you’re far from being average, are you not? So, you are still capable of response. Now tell me.” The man hovered something above his line of sight. “Is this familiar to you?”

He dared not to feel, he swore not to feel—yet he could not help the churn in his empty chest.

A pawn piece. Its homely [c] glow beckoned him to reach out to it, and he did so with a weak, trembling hand as he struggled against the lapse of his consciousness.

It was a reaction out of instinct—to grasp for something that was his, that belonged to him, that was a part of him. 

But then it was whisked away and he swore it felt as though he crashed to the ground for the second time. He disliked the nagging trepidation in the back of his head as he shifted to adjust with all that he could, suddenly deeming the tubes that made him powerful a while ago now heavy, burdened with the reminder of his shameful defeat in a war that he began. 

What on earth did that Harbinger planned to do? How was he able to take her? 

He took her with him in his newly assembled form. 

“Dottore…” his voice was weak and he hated it. “How..”

What was he going to do– what did he plan to-

The Doctor laughed as he stepped away with a flourish, gloved hand allowing the piece to float above his palm as he recounted a time of long ago.

“My word! But I thought you sought the bonafide power from an Archon and not from some prototype!” he grinned, “Didn’t you say… that you have no need for her? You fallen ‘god’?”

He wasn’t going to-

“Dottore-!”

“I’ve given you what you want, is it not only fair for me to take my share?” resumed the victor in this play. 

And that measly reply was all that poor Scaramouche needed to understand what the Doctor intended to do.

The realization seized him like a serpent, and all of a sudden he loathed his nihilistic, pragmatic view that everything to the world was a simple transaction.

Yes, he wanted Dottore to make his dream a reality. But what did that spell in exchange?

[Name]. 

Hearing the puppet’s spasming breaths made Dottore huff. He initially had no plan to further taunt someone who was already so pitiful, but he could not resist the morbid pleasure it brought him; a puppet who was a puppet through and through.

Being a god was none other than a foolish position unfit for the latter in the first place.

The hand that shot to wrap around his ankle prevented him from taking another step, and instead of feeling irked, he was only amused. 

“What desperation…” he commented.

Deciding to take things up a notch for his own entertainment, he bent on a knee over the piteous Scaramouche, the once great Balladeer, who was now in the shambles of his own mechanical body.

He had to commend him, for despite the obvious asthenia, the fire in those violet eyes were never snuffed out.

“You once wished to be a mortal with a heart, so enlighten me. Between the two of us, who is the closest thing to a weak human being now?” he allowed the piece to float closer to the loser, and he could see the natural effect it brought.

The Balladeer’s easing body, the slight serenity in his expression at the thought of being so close to the being he had with him from the very start…

… And the absolute desperation on his face when the Doctor pulled it away.

“Dottore!” ah, that scream of madness as he clawed the ground, breaths heaved between demands. “Do not… even think of laying a hand on her! She’s not yours! She’s—!”

“Yours, then?”

Dottore asked upon the shambled excuse of a god, the floating item in his possession that glowed a faint [c] and resembled a pawn piece in the chessboard being hidden into his coat.

Over his heart, where it throbbed the same color of [c], almost tauntingly.

“No…” he smiled, kicking off the clasp around his boot, and walking away. Leaving the puppet to the isolation he was so used to. “I don’t think you’ve any right to say that anymore.”

Truly, he wished to stay for a moment longer to watch the show of the desperate Balladeer, whose actions at the moment bespoke nothing of the menacing Harbinger he once was. But the desperation and agony of someone who was once just Kabukimono.

But alas! There were things to be done, and places he needed to go.

Agony—the ugly, distasteful twist of his chest was the sole reason for why he wanted to rid his emotions. To be a superior being incapable of it, for feelings were weak.

He no longer desired a heart, so he threw it away.

Yet at that moment, the godforsaken feeling of having let go brought about a pain and denial that no words could ever describe. He was helpless. Again. To the hands of fate and his own failure. Who was he to be mad, when he had been the one to forsake his heart?

It was beyond hypocritical if he were to ask for it back.

Oh, and where was he now? A measly bug on the cold stone floor.

On shaking arms, he attempted to push himself up. With nonexistent strength, he urged himself to move, but it was the very equipment engineered and produced by the Akademiya that reined him back like a literal puppet on strings—and he was soon crashing back to the floor. But he was nothing if not recalcitrant. 

“No- no, don’t-” the consciousness he earlier begged to be taken away was doing its job, and he realized for certain that he would be rid of it.

To his utter desperation.

“Get back here, this isn’t what we agreed on… !”

Deep in the crevices of his mind there resounded the voice so raw with emotions he wished to burn. An ache—a defect in him that he could not, for the artificial life of him, destroy.

His chest hollowed as the Doctor went farther and farther away, carrying with him, the prototype heart he had replaced for the Gnosis.  

Anything but her— no more- don’t take any more from me!

[How bastardous he was, to forsake her but in the end demand that she not be taken away from him? What irony.]

That time, he wanted nothing more but to curse everything and himself as he shook. With fear or anguish, he no longer knew.

The [c] glow he had been acclimated to over the centuries was vanishing, just like he wanted to, but now selfishly wanted to take back. Was it because he failed that he wanted her again? He didn’t know anymore—he was afraid to know. 

Black spots bedecked his vision, the bile of emotions rising into his throat, threatening to spew in hysteria. Words died in his chest and his voice faded, but still, even with his fading consciousness, he dragged his body across the pavement, fixated on the Doctor’s back, who was now walking away.

Far.. far.. away. 

Scaramouche, Kunikuzushi—Kabukimono raged and cried with a hand that could not reach for anything.

Not his goal of transcending into a deity.

Not his mother and creator, the Archon of Inazuma.

With the last of his consciousness and strength, he cried out. “[NAME]!!” 

Not the heart he called his twin sister. 

His hand fell and his consciousness left, leaving him in the swathe of familiar blackness. One that spoke without the company of the one who knew him most. 

It wasn’t fair—this wasn’t fair. 

But alas, perhaps fatalism had written that, even if he was far from being a powerfless human being, he could still do nothing to determine his own fate.

That of which included his desertion of his heart, his defeat, and the grand consequence to a dream he had ambitiously chased for himself. 

a/n: boop. see you post-irminsul, boy.

also, mc's as "kenkoroshi" is made up of the kanji 剣 [ken/sword] and 殺し [koroshi/kill], so whilst kunikuzushi is literally country destroyer, i opted to have mc be named something that implies her nature as a weapon. 偽物 [nisemono], on the other hand, means 'fake'. or in fatalism context, she's a fake/imitation of a Gnosis.

This has been stewing in my mind for,, a year and a half? Finally out of the basement.

---

Okay so how about Childe's workplace, I thought it would be nice to see what the first meeting between you his sister and his workmates are like.

Genshin 13 stepbrother au; child!reader, fem!reader, modern au, platonic fluff, crack

"Hoo, always knew that guy was a maniac for his siblings and always wanted a sister but I didn't think he would go so far as to brainwash a small kid," Scara complained as he looked at you. Doe eyes look innocently at him looked so different from the crazed eyes Childe had when it comes to work and a lot of things in general.

"They look nothing alike."

"Hey, don't you think you are a little mean comrade?" Childe tried to smile but it seems nobody believed it really when there was a hostile aura surrounding him.

"She is such a cutie tho... here would you like a candy?" Marionette smiled at you eyes closed you wondered what her eye color was. Handing you a little strawberry candy that was like the color of her hair. "Hold on you already gave her too many" "But she is just so cute Capitano I can't help but spoil her!"

"I can't believe that you lost her. It is only a good thing that Capitano was the one who found the little girl and she wasn't scared of him." La Signora placed her chin on her hand resting on an armchair she glanced at you and then at Capitano.

It was an amusing situation really. Childe had been going on and on about finally having a little sister he could physically actually dot on. He showed them every picture he took of you to the point some of them had to actually run away so that he would not be dragging their ears with his adoration for you. The many times they slammed their doors and locked them the moment they saw Childe's excited proud eyes and his phone turned on with the gallery opened.

How amusing it was the day he was supposed to bring his little sister to the office to show off did he lose her?

Childe or Tartaglia was frantically looking for you at the 50-story buildings hoping to even find a hair of yours. The two that he somehow managed to drag in his search were La Signora and Scaramouche. (much to their annoyance)

So after actual hours of searching for you, they could only stare quietly at you who was in the lap of Capitano and feed cookies by Columbina. It seems that Dottore was the one who found you and because you recognize who he was from seeing a picture from Childe's phone you started to trail after him.

Much to his annoyance.

He didn't know why a child would even be here! But you were, as you continued to follow him even after he told you not to. You looked so lost and confused in the middle of the halls and offices at what you were supposed to do when he told you to leave multiple times yet instead hesitantly chose to ignore his words and continue following him. (Pantalone had an amused smile on his face when he saw Dottore followed by a child. Patting your head in greeting but didn't do anything to help and left the poor man to deal with you by himself.)

It was when he saw Capitano he wondered if he would finally get you off his tail thinking you would become scared of the other man and run away like most kids do when they see him. Instead, you looked at him curiously asking if he was Capitano. It was a weird sight for many as Capitano was a little confused at your existence but still answered your question. (Dottore took this as a chance to escape.)

So here you were now the kitchen used for the higher-ups in the company. Capitano had quickly figured out that you were the step-sister of Childe and decided to bring you to the poor man who was searching for you when he heard your stomach grumble.

"You were here all along?" Childe asked weakly trying his best to smile. You nodded your head smiling, small cookie crumbs stuck to your mouth. Childe looked at Capitano his eyes asking- begging to tell him when has he not told him about the fact that he found you.

"I called you several times and even messaged you but you didn't answer," Capitano explained, looking at the other two behind Childe barely able to contain their evil laughter unsure if he should tell the weeping guy (who unfortunately forgot his phone at the car and too much of a panic to even notice that he didn't even have it) that he also informed the two about you too...

Let's just not.

ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ ꜱɪʙʟɪɴɢꜱ

pairings - older sibling! sunday & reader / older sibling! aventurine & reader

content - reader is gender-neutral/not a lot of angst/mainly fluff/sibling dynamics

warnings - none, besides the occasional swearing

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

↻ Being the head of the Oak Family, he has a lot of responsibilities and is frequently busy attending meetings and managing the Charmony Festival

↻ Despite not having too much free time, he always tries to make room for his younger siblings

↻ If you find yourself needing something, Sunday will always drop what he is doing to help you with whatever it is you need help with ↺ A meeting? He'd excuse himself by saying something family-related requires his immediate attention ↺ Helping guests with their room arrangements? He'd say something urgent had come up and would call over another member of the family to solve the issue

↻ Sunday would be a supportive brother, as seen with Robin, encouraging you to pursue opportunities that would aid you in your career or simply being happy that you are happy with whatever you are doing (as long as it isn’t something questionable, otherwise he’d be concerned and a little stressed) ↺ Something I imagine that could happen if you’re doing a particularly dangerous job (and he hasn’t heard from you) is that he’d pace around in his office, stroking or picking at his wings out of stress ↺ You or Robin would walk in to see feathers scattered around and have to scold him for mistreating his wings, helping him with taking care of his disheveled wings

↻ Speaking of wings, if you have a pair of your own, he’d love to help you take care of them ↺ You know those bird videos where they are helping preen the other’s feathers? He would be exactly like that

↻ Considering Sunday is your older brother, he would be a bit overprotective of you ↻ You would be able to tell just by observing his wings and how they’re puffed up, a smile could be on his face but his wings would try to unconsciously intimidate the person who is making you uncomfortable

↻ If you introduce your older brother to a significant other..he’d be a bit wary at first, slightly interrogating them to observe their actions before coming to a final judgment ↺ Again, his wings would be a dead giveaway to his approval if he’s relaxed and asks you to invite them over to dinner with him and Robin ↺ Otherwise, he’d be tense and would confide in you later about his own thoughts but being respectful of your own opinion (...However, he would try nudging you into a direction if they’re truly not a good person)

↻ As children, if you approached him with something you did that you were proud of (whether it was an artwork or trophy), he’d be swelling with pride and happiness

↺ You would see it being displayed in his office or room later on when you’re older, leading you to nag at him for the embarrassment if other important figures saw them ↺ He would not budge if you asked him to take them down since it makes him smile when he glances at them

-----

“Why do you still have the old drawings I gave you since we were kids!?” Gaping at the messy portrait you made of your siblings, you could feel your face flush with embarrassment when you saw them encased in a nice gold ornate frame.

“Well, I couldn’t just throw them away… It would be quite sad if I threw away something you were so proud of when we were little.” Sunday hummed, arms crossed behind his back while looking up at the artwork. A small pleasant smile graced his face, reminiscing the time you hurried up to him with a slightly crumpled paper in hand.

“But displaying it in your office!? Just how many people came in and saw.. that!?” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you looked down and sighed.

“The value of this artwork is priceless. It is something you cannot replicate the meaning of.” Sunday simply chuckled, coming up behind you and staring back at it. “Looking at it reminds me of how far you’ve come, and to say I am proud of your achievements would be an understatement.”

“You’re so corny, brother.” “I’m glad to know I am fulfilling my duties, dear ____.”

-----

↻ Overall, Sunday is a very caring and doting older brother. ˆˆ

↻ Aventurine as an older brother came as a surprise to a majority of his peers, if not all (perhaps it’s because of his background or personality)

↻ However, he wouldn’t have met his younger sibling until later due to being separated from his family when he was a kid (I’m trying to use some of his lore that we know so far..but it won’t be entirely accurate, apologies!)

↻ This would lead to him being a very doting older brother once he met you and learned that you were blood siblings ↺ He was skeptical at first… Even if he had faint memories of his siblings he didn’t think he would have the chance to come across one of them

↻ It would take a while for Aventurine to be comfortable around you, not because you aren’t someone he can’t really trust, but because he isn’t used to familial bonds and this was something unexpected

↻ He would feel a bit insecure about himself because the expectations of being a good role model for you are now placed on him

↻ When the two of you were more familiar with each other, he would try spending his free time learning about you and what happened when the two of you were separated ↺ It would then transition to lighter topics, such as what is your favorite food? What places have you traveled to? Do you like your career?

↻ Aventurine would try to be a good older brother for you, wanting to be there to support you throughout the rest of your journeys and missions ↺ Whether you are a nameless on the express, a resident of a distant planet, or a traveling merchant, he’d try to keep in contact with you and share updates on what he has been doing

↻ Eventually, Aventurine would open up about his trauma or past to you, about being taken to the IPC, how he became an executive for the Strategic Investment Department, etc… ↺ Being vulnerable in front of others was difficult for him, but you didn’t mock or distrust him, you were willing to open up and find him so he wanted to do the same

↻ After all, his work could be quite lonesome for even someone as eccentric as him so this was a nice change

↻ The time spent getting to know each other would not only bring you two closer together but introduce you to how much of an asshole (affectionate) your older brother could be

↻ Considering that you’re his younger sibling, he’d probably take you around Penacony to gamble or see popular events ↺ When the two of you are playing any game, he’d use his 'older sibling' card to go first which irks you ↺ When he ends up winning the game, you affectionately start slapping/arguing with him, drawing attention to the both of you

↻ Because Aventurine often gains a lot of money from unfortunate players who gamble with him, he’d spend it on stuff that reminds him of you or things that you wanted ↺ You would be shocked and scold him since some of the stuff he bought you was a pretty hefty price, but he just waves you off

↻ Aventurine would tease you a lot, resulting in many (non-serious) arguments which always amused curious bystanders (standard sibling relationship) ↺ The majority of the time these arguments consisted of random topics that popped out of nowhere, leading to a debate

↻ If someone were to taunt and speak lowly of you, especially if it’s because of you being a Sigonian, he’d be incredibly defensive and say things that would have them reevaluating their own values and sense of self (attacking their self-esteem lol)

↻ Aventurine would also treat you to different restaurants, containing different atmospheres and settings but he’d try to stick to what made you feel most comfortable

-----

“Have you ever been here before, Aventurine?” You asked, looking around the cozy restaurant inquisitively. The lights were a soft yellow and the booths had a red velvety cushioning to it, giving the place a welcoming feeling. You wondered where he had heard of this place…

“Well, no not really. I’ve only passed by this place a couple of times while on my way to the casino.” Aventurine spoke, folding the menu and placing it at the end of the table. “..Do you like it?”

“I do! It has a nice atmosphere and the food looks good.” You hummed, skimming through the menu and setting it down once you’ve decided what to order. “Thank you for taking me here, brother.”

Aventurine hummed, twirling his fork between his fingers. A small smile ghosted his face.

“Don’t mention it, ____.”

“... By the way, you’re paying right, Aventurine..?” “Hmmm, I think I left my wallet at home.” “Aventurine!”

-----

↻ He’s an older brother who’s trying his best to be there for you ˆˆ

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - hope you guys enjoyed reading (˘◡˘) ! it's been a bit since i wrote something so hopefully this isn't too bad lol.

---

I AM IN DESPERATE NEED OF MORE OLDER SIBLING XIAO, KAZUHA, AND SCARA CONTENT.

ur writing is literally so good im in love......

anyway UHHH older sibling xiao, kazuha, and scara with a stupid younger (technically adopted) sibling!!! turns out theres a reason for their stupidity

(y/n was basically sheltered and isolated by their 'parents' which is why they're so dumb in anything they do)

Xiao + Kazuha + Scara with a Little Sibling!Reader

Hmhm thank you. Sorry it's late.

Part two here.

Strictly platonic. Slight mention of tics. Spoilers for Scara's real name.

Xiao:

Xiao is not the most knowledgeable of mortal life, and he understands that.

But you, only a child that does not know literally anything about the outside world? It reminds him of an animal that was born sheltered, not knowing of how much potential they could've had outside.

Xiao feels bad he doesn't know how to help. In fact, both of you need help. But still, Xiao has taken on the role of a caring older brother, so he just has to help in some way.

He doesn't lose hope, though. He knows more than you, obviously. Xiao's lived thousands of years.

Your big brother may not be that big of a help in social situations. If you accidentally use the wrong tone towards someone in a conversation, and that person gets angry with you... Xiao will not hesitate to defend you.

He's a little too intimidating. Xiao has learned that a simple glare would get those mortals to shut up, so he does just that.

He tries to comfort you. You're confused with recieving comfort aswell.

At first, Xiao is embarrassed that you get all confused when he tries to make you feel better about yourself. Then, he thinks of how aweful your parents must've been.

At first, he wants to stop embarrassing himself. Yet Xiao thinks, who else will teach you, care for you? Soon, Xiao will completey drop his tsundere act, and openly show love to you as your big brother.

His love language is quality time, preferebly in silence, just knowing that you're alive and next to him.

During this time, Xiao likes to take you on nature walks, away from the harbour and inn. He finds places to sit, watch leaves and bushes sway in the wind, and possibly pet some wild animals.

But he knows that you should learn normal human life. So on some days, your big brother decides to take you around the harbour.

On your little walks around Liyue harbour, you're not the only one learning about mortal life.

Your bond is so strong. Sometimes, you find yourself getting trapped in one of his hugs. Actually, this has happened so many times, you understand completely what Xiao wants to say, to communicate, to let you know.

He might even give you gentle, hesitant, slow headpats.

Everyday, you are reminded how your big brother is trying so hard. Xiao wants you to have a happy life, and he's doing everything he can to achieve it. But, if you being "happy" means staying with him, then he'll gladly take you in his arms.

He loves you, he hopes you know that. He wants to tell you how proud he is of you, of all your progress getting over your isolated past.

Kazuha:

Kazuha thinks you're cute.

He feels scared, maybe paranoid when he has to leave you alone. But he shouldn't worry too much, he always feels a sense of urgency in the wind whenever you're in danger.

When Kazuha finds out about your parents and what they did to you, he feels upset. It almost angers him. You should've been allowed to go outside and explore the world, especially in the early stages of life.

So, he takes it upon himself, as your big brother, to show you all he knows.

Sometimes, when you do something stupid, like actually befriending a hilichurl... Kazuha would cheer you on. He knows what it's like to feel embarrassed, and he definitely does not want to be the cause of your embarrassment. Plus, you're just too cute.

He buys clothes you say look cute, and gift them to you. If you like sweets, Kazuha's going to give you little cat shaped sweets. At first you thought you were supposed to feed them to cats... But Kazuha thought you looked cute, so he took a little picture with his Kamera.

One time you accidentally said something rude to a person. Kazuha apoligized, which led you to apoligize aswell, but the person was still mad.

The next day, you and Kazuha were walking around in the city when you saw that same person, with backup. And they looked furious. One of them even said, "Get them!"

Kazuha reacted quickly before they could catch you. "Now isn't this going too far?" He questioned while grabbing your hand, using his anemo vision to blow a strong gust of wind to stop the group, and running away with you. With an innocent smile.

Kazuha knows since you've been pretty sheltered, you don't know much slang or big confusing words. So, around you Kazuha speaks easy, almost bad English.

But often when you two cuddle or hang out alone, your big brother tells you how much he loves you with poems, haikus, confusing words, old English, all that. It's like your big brother's speaking another language– Yet you somewhat understand after seeing that smile on his face.

Kazuha smiles so much around you, you probably developed a smiling tic, where your eyes close and you smile. Whenever you two greet each other, Kazuha's welcomed with that little close eyed smile of yours.

He thinks it's so adorable, your big brother always cups your face in his hands before giving you a little hug.

Will blow wind towards you, blowing your hair back, to see you smile.

One goal of his is to make you completely forget about your past, and your biological family. Another goal is to hug you everyday, another goal is to see you smile everyday, another goal is to tell you he loves you everyday, another goal—

You don't know a lot of things, and Kazuha helps you with that. But if you know that he is your big brother, and he loves you unconditionally, Kazuha will feel content and happy with you, which he already is.

Scaramouche:

At first, he thought you were so annoying. Did he really have to teach you how to do everything?

Occasionally he has yelled at you. But he always feels a weird sense of guilt he never felt before.

Scaramouche somehow finds out you've been sheltered by your biological family, that's why you acted so stupid.

He doesn't know how to feel about it. The next time Scaramouche sees you, he instantly feels regret. Now he's the one feeling stupid.

His face always softens around you. He's made a secret promise to himself that he'll never yell at you again.

Scara will take your hand to get you close to him, under his huge hat. He says it's so you don't get lost, but it's actually to protect you and for people to not mess with you.

Your big brother buys steals you kimonos, if you like those. Same with dango milk, and everything else.

Scaramouche will drop everything for you. You're way more important than what he was just doing.

"Well, look who it is." Scaramouche had his arms crossed. He was in a domain filled with electro.

He turned around. "Delighted to meet you again, traveler." The blonde switched to a fighting stance. "Hm. You already look like you want me dead."

The traveler sensed another presence enter the room, but had no time to pay attention to it, since the Balladeer could attack when the opponent was not focused.

"You've grown weak." "Big brother?" Scaramouche jolted.

He uncrossed his arms and looked to the side, seeing you approach him. Your big brother was hesitant to turn his attention to you, giving the traveler a side glare. Well, the traveler couldn't be stupid enough to attack him, right infront of his innocent little sibling, right?

Scaramouche kneeled down to your height. "Y/n, I told you not to come here, it's dangerous." His face relaxed, but still confused, asking for an explanation. In the corner of his eye, he could see the traveler's stance ease up and hide their sword.

"But I missed you." Scara tipped his hat backwards to see you better. He sighed after a moment.

"Alright, alright. I'll come visit you when I'm done, okay?" Your big brother gave you a quick hug. "Just go back for now."

You nodded. After giving the traveler a curious look, you came back from where you were.

Scaramouche stood up, crossing his arms again. "Th-The Balladeer? A little sibling!?" A squeaky Paimon voice shouted. The traveler has a ready stance again.

The harbinger scoffed. "Everyone has a family at some point in our lives, whether we like it or not." The traveler has more of an understanding of Scaramouche now.

If you're having trouble speaking for yourself, Scaramouche will gladly help you.

He desperately tries to keep you away from Childe. If you meet that ginger, you'll think he's a better big brother than Scara. He's scared you'll leave him. He doesn't want that happening.

Scaramouche doesn't want you calling him by his fatui name. He doesn't want you to call him someone that has multiple crimes to his name. Instead, he tells you his name is Kunikuzushi.

He's not used to being called by Kunikuzushi anymore, so it always warms his heart whenever you call him that.

---

*ೃ༄ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [platonic]

warnings; scaramouche and reader are siblings, scaramouche kinda a PLATONIC yandere, lil bit of blood not descriptive, spoilers for inazuma archon quest and raiden ei and yae mikos voice lines, canon-typical violence.

sypnosis; doing your daily chores as a shrine maiden, you never expected to run into a stranger along the desolate path.

You never truly liked your mother.

She had her favourites, and you and your brother were most definitely not it. No, it was your glorious younger sister who was.

Your mother was busy, too busy to say hello and goodnight. Too busy to care. Too busy to simply let you be a child. To let you cry and smile and laugh, to let you run in muddy puddles and draw on the walls - no, no such intolerance would be allowed. The second you showed anything, you would so lucky not to end up like your brother: cast out, left abandoned and treated like dirt on the bottom of your mother's shoe. So, you shut down, only doing what told off you and otherwise acting invisible, it became a habit after while.

Your brother is gone, one day he and mother went out for a walk and only she returned. She refused to talk apon the subject. She seemed sour at the mere mention of his name, turning to conceal what she truly thought. You never saw your brother again, but he saw you.

Your younger sister held a similiar fate to your brother, she too disappeared on the night the sky itself got confined in it's stormy shackles. You missed her dearly, despite how she reminded you of your mother, at least your sister was there for you.

Your mother was gone now, and all that was left was thing you were meant to call your mother. Your sister.

The moment your aunt took you see her one day, you had been excited but when you laid eyes up in that husk of your sibling, you cried. And the husk watched without an ounce of sympathy - too much like your mother, too far from your sister - and your aunt had to hush you.

You had to live with this husk for 500 years. It was odd, originally you refused to be in the same room as it, but when the thing that took over the body of your sister disappeared, you would be granted with her smiles all over again. She became tolerable, until your aunt whisked you away by command of the Shogun.

Now you lived with your aunt.

It wasn't so bad here. The shrine was sacred grounds to people of Inazuma, yet you could not feel the same about it. Your aunt often caught you staring at the Sakura Tree, and you could see from your peripheral vision as her eyes would soften and then she would avoid you for a few hours. You never did much - that was what you were raised to do - and that's why you guessed your aunt often looked so miserable when she gazed at you.

You never visited the city again, not that you couldn't, you merely refused to. Your brother was taken from you, your sister - could you even be call her that anymore? - was gone and your mother had abandoned you. All you had was your aunt and these damn redwood yumemiru walls.

"Oh [name], dearest. Can you please inform the shrine maidens at the base of mountain that their shift is almost over? Thank you. "

End of discussion, without a word you left with a polite bow and gracious steps. It was like almost every day. Now, your aunt was too busy. You feared it would be the same repetitive cycle all over again as you walked down the crooked steps of the mountain. The sun had nearly set, the fortune slips that had been hung glistening in the suns glow as you walked past them. You loved the orange and yellow hues of sky, it so deeply opposed your mother's hair you couldn't help but let a smile come across your features as you looked at it.

As you reached the base of the mountain nearby to Chinju Forest, the suns warmth seemed to vanish as if it had been repelled by some invisible force. The Forest was silent as you wandered near the old shrine location, desolate of all life. Not even a Tanuki made itself known, but you supposed, maybe they had tired-out from hiding all day.

The shrine maidens weren't at their posts.

You thought for a moment, maybe they knew that the sun setting meant they could go home, but alas, they always waited for you. Maybe, they were called to the village to help with offerings. Or maybe you had pasted them on your way down the path and didn't notice.

You frowned gently before you felt a presence behind you. You were about you turn around and greet the shrine maiden, only for goosebumps to rake your arms, and this clawing darkness to hang over your head, consuming you with bone-racking fear. You could feel the eyes of the forest, or was it this mystery thing behind you, watching every twitch of your finger.

Put on a smile, said your training as you turned around. Just politely excuse yourself then vow to never set foot out of the main shrines land. Something inside of you yearned for it to be nothing, but you were never so lucky.

The other person made eye contact with you before you did and before you knew it, you were locked in this tense staring match between each other.

Purple eyes peered into your soul, despite this mans small stature, he towered over you as you averted your eyes first.

"Are you lost, sir?" You asked, if auntie heard you left someone alone without offering assistance you would never hear the end of it.

Waiting for his response you observed him, he was still staring at you. He looked so... Blank, like a fresh canvas ready to be painted only something told you that the canvas' freedom of possibilities had been smeared with a corroding soul-taking black. But, this is your paranoia over talking to a new person, for all you know he is the sweetest, most kindest man-

"No, I know this place like the back of my hand."

He did not sound happy. His face showed nothing but his clothes showed off his riches in royal purple and red robes dragged across his body which ended in shorts near his knees. Maybe.. He was a merchant wanting good luck from the shrine?

You nodded to him, you talked to him and tried to help therefore auntie wouldnt be too mad right? (Like asking one simple question is enough) You set off toward the crooked steps once again with your head low in respect as you walked past the old shrine.

"Can I help you?"

You knew he walking beside you. You could feel him without having the look at him. You couldn't even hear his foot-falls, it was as if he was dead as he took striding steps next to you. His presence was overbearing, familiar and yet so unfamiliar at the same time.

"Suppose you could help me, would you?"

Could he not get the point? It was night-time and he was asking such crytic questions, but you continued on towards the path as you answered with a fake smile, "Of course I would. It's my duty as a Shrine Maiden." - you would have continued onwards with the mantra of 'and as a follower of the Electro Archon' but you couldn't bring yourself to even acknowledge her.

"I hate liars." Rang his cocky voice throughout the slumbering trees with such low rumbling anger that you froze on the spot. But he continued on walking up the incline, almost as if oblivious to your condition as he lumbered forwards before turning around and facing you again. "Come on, [name], haven't I always told you that. "

"I.. I wasn't lying. And how did you know my name!-" you demanded, this boy was starting to annoy you, now only was he now in the way of your way home but also continued on with charade of an innocent man. Did he know you from the shrine? Maybe you had talked to him before on a busy day and forgotten-

"Whatever do you mean, you told me when you first introduced yourself."

A boy in a white robe gazed curiosily up at you, your hand clasped with your mother's as she spoke, "meet your younger sibling kunikuzushi."

You both stared at each other for a moment in awkward silence before mother squeezed your hand, too tight for your comfort. Oh, wait that's right, your supposed to- "Hello, my name is [name]. Please look after me." -introduce yourself.

Your mother let go of your hand, seemingly pleased with herself as she left the room with a small schlik sliding of the wooden door panel. You made no move to acknowledge the throbbing of your now red hand, but the boy had different ideas as he grasped it in his own to take a closer look at it.

His long purple hair rippled down his back as he turn your hand over to see the other side it. He looked so pretty but the gentle furrow of his brows upset you, it didn't suit him at all.

"It doesn't hurt, I am fine." You spoke with disdain as you snatched your hand out his gentle grasp, or tried to, as he held firmly to your wrist. He finally meet your gaze, and his gleaming eyes spoke volumes as if he was trying to decipher everything at once.

"Don't lie to me." He said with a smile as he let go your hand. A smile looked better on his face than a frown, yet you found it weird to see one. Was everyone meant to smile?

He didn't say another word to you until your mother came back.

Only now that the mysterious man that followed you could you make out any detail about his appearance. How the red of his robes seemed more and more like blood rather than paint or robes as he got closer and closer, the scent of copper hitting your nose like a truck. How his eyes glowed and his sharp features stared at you again, only different, with something you couldnt quite place within his eyes.

You stumbled back as if hit by a force, your hand launching to cradle your sore head, the another seeking something to try and stabilize your self on, when you couldn't, you tripped on the skirt of your long shrine maiden robes, landing on your bum with a thud. You hazingly blinked around, no longer seeing the young boy in a dark room but a moon-luminanted forest, what was that right now?..

You had no time to ponder as the light seemed to be taken away, so you looked see what had caused it.

That was why he was so familiar, as it clicked in your head you mumbled out his name, "Kunikuzushi... "

He clicked his tongue as he crouched before you, the moons glow still swallowed by his frame, "Took you long enough, huh. That's no good... And here I thought you were the smart one. Seems although I will just have to look after you, won't I?"

Maybe you should had listened to your gut before and not been deceived by looks of an innocent boy and be laboured by your training from your aunt. Maybe you should have plead ignorance to his arrival, or maybe you should have payed more attention to your surrondings. For if you had, surely you would have noticed the torn bloody piece of white cloth blowing in the wind attached to the fortune slip stand, left to guard the nightmare of the Balladeer.

---

Oh shit lmao kokomi sorry I totally forgot to say

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ LITTLE PEARL. platonic kokomi & reader !

synopsis. a child appears on watatsumi island, lost and scared. what is kokomi to do, other than take care of them? contents. PLATONIC. referenced shipwreck & parental death. gn!reader. they/them pronouns used. hurt/comfort. 1.5k words. notes. hehe i thought so!! i didn't want to start writing until i was certain though :D hope you enjoy!!

Kokomi’s quiet evening—a rare luxury these days, one that she never saw enough of to get used to—came to an abrupt halt with a knock at her door.

She looked up wearily, already wishing she had retreated to her secluded cave instead of her room. The seats she had dragged in there might not be as comfortable as her plush armchair, but it carried one sacred trait that she craved most: privacy.

But alas, in times of unrest, Watatsumi Island couldn’t afford to be missing its leader. There were too many reports of discontent in the outer villages, that spoke of rising tensions and concerning food shortages. She had to be available within the Shrine at all times, lest she miss an important message and leave her people to fend for themselves. No amount of convincing from General Gorou would sway her to take some time away; as much as the idea of withdrawing from her duties for a night enticed her, she knew she was far too important. She would have to make do recovering energy in her room.

The knock sounded again, this time more urgent. It was accompanied by a muffled call of her name, stifling any chance she had of ignoring it and continuing to read.

“-1 energy,” Kokomi murmured to herself, setting her book down. She rose from her seat, crossing her room in two quick steps. When the door swung open, she was met with a soldier.

“Your Excellency!” The soldier exclaimed, bowing as she appeared. “Soldiers from the southern village have returned, with a criminal in tow. They were attempting to steal from the camp supplies, but they were caught, and brought back here.”

“The southern encampment has its own officers in charge of deal with wrongdoers.” Kokomi frowned in confusion. “Why have they been taken here instead of being sorted out there?”

“Well… there were two issues.” The soldier said sheepishly. “For one, they’re not a resident of Watatsumi. We aren’t sure where they came from, but no one recognized them.”

Kokomi hummed. While it wasn’t unheard of for travellers to find themselves on Watatsumi, especially after Inazuma’s borders were officially reopened, those who did were carefully documented by Sangonomiya officials. It was particularly odd for a stranger to have slipped past their notice and gotten far enough to steal from their supplies. “What was the second issue?”

“That…” He swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. “That’s one that I think you will want to see for yourself.”

Kokomi raised an eyebrow, flitting through the possibilities in her mind. A mystery thief, unknown to the inhabitants of Watatsumi. From the soldier’s story, nothing stuck out as particularly notable. What could have the guards so vexed that they needed the Divine Priestess herself to solve the issue?

“Very well.” Kokomi said with a nod. “But please, explain to me everything that happened on the way.”

“Of course, Your Excellency.” The soldier bowed again, turning on his heel and leading the way. “Iwata was the one to discover them. He was trying to retrieve some seeds from the supply stores, when he found them rifling through the boxes.”

“What did they take?” Kokomi asked, as they turned the corner.

“Uh… food, I think. Some grain, a bit of the vegetables.” Curious. They must have been desperate, if they were resorting to stealing rations. “Anyway, he alerted the nearest samurai, who apprehended them. He suggested imprisoning them, but one of the elders talked him out of it. For starters, no one knows who they are so we didn’t know what kind of threat they might pose. Others opposed the idea because… well…”

The soldier pushed open the door, revealing the front of the shrine. Moonlight bathed the area in a dim glow, glinting across the shelled walls. In front of the palace stood a group of half-a-dozen soldiers, escorting one person towards the shrine. It was then that Kokomi saw their wide-eyed for the first time, and she realized what was so wrong with the scene.

“The criminal is—”

“A child.” Kokomi finished with a gasp. The thief couldn’t have been more than a young teen at the oldest, with watery eyes and tear streaks shining across their cheeks.

They looked—to put it bluntly—a mess. Their hair hung limply, tangled with sand and salt, their clothes were rumpled and covered in tears. They looked like something that had been dragged up from the bottom of the sea in a net, still dripping with water and covered in sand.

As the guard on their left pulled them forward, they let out a cry. Kokomi's eyes narrowed at his roughness, tugging on them carelessly like a ragdoll.

“Stand down, please.” Kokomi said calmly, waving away the guard. His grip on their arm only seemed to tighten, as vehement protests left his lips.

“Your Excellency! They were caught red-handed stealing from army supplies! I urge you not to treat this matter lightly just because—”

“Stand down, please.” Kokomi repeated, her voice turning steely. “Do not misunderstand me, soldier. That was an order, not a request.”

The guard turned red, but let go of the child’s arm. He bowed stiffly and stood back with the rest of his group, murmuring under his breath as he did. She elected to ignore him, as bold as the disrespect was, turning her gaze to the group.

“The rest of you, please return to your posts. I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. You are all dismissed.” Kokomi said. All of the soldiers bowed to her—some more willingly than others—and slowly retreated from the shrine.

When they were out of eyesight, she turned back to the child, crouching until they were eye-to-eye. They shrunk away from her, stumbling on the steps in their haste to put distance between them. Something in her chest twinged at seeing just how skittish the child was, but she didn't let her expression waver.

“Hello there, little one.” Kokomi smiled warmly, her voice light. “I’m sorry for how roughly he treated you. My name is Kokomi, may I know your name too?”

“[Name],” they mumbled, still not meeting her eye. Their restless hands fiddled with the edge of their clothing, unraveling the already frayed stitches.

“[Name]… it suits you well. You must have lovely parents to give you such a nice name.” Kokomi paused. “Where are your parents, sweetheart?”

A shrug. Their eyes darted between her, and the guards still stationed at the side of the shrine.

“You don't know?”

Another shrug.

“Love, I'm here to help you.” She said softly, taking a cautious step towards them. When they didn't immediately retreat, she took another. “If you've gotten lost, and can't find your parents I'll do everything I can to reunite you with them.”

Their face scrunched up, and they murmured something quick that she barely managed to catch. “...They were with me on the boat.”

“What was that?”

“We... we were on the boat together.” They said quietly, clenching their tiny hands into fists. “They were with me when... when it started filling with water. They made sure I got onto the little boats, before... before...”

The pieces clicked in Kokomi's head, as the child burst into tears.

“I-I-I want them back!” They wailed, their words broken up by sobs.

“Oh my...” Kokomi said softly. “Oh my. Come, come here.”

She held open her arms in an invitation, waiting for them to move towards her. For a few moments they didn't move, only staring at her in between sniffles. She offered a small, comforting smile, and their hesitance broke, practically tackling her into a hug. She murmured comforts into their hair, as she held them close and tight to her chest. They continued to weep, all of their fear and stress spilling out in a messy wave of tears and snot.

“I'm so sorry, little one. I know this must be very hard for you, and you're being very brave.” She soothed, rubbing their back.

“Will you find them for me?” They asked, the question mumbled into the front of her clothes. Kokomi hesitated.

False hope would be cruel, but candor would be crueler. It wasn't the first time a ship had sunk in the Inazuma seas, but very few occasions returned with news of survivors. It was a miracle that they had lasted long enough to wash up on Watatsumi, but the chances of their parents doing the same were slim, especially if they hadn't already been discovered.

“I will do everything within my power to search for them.” Kokomi said carefully, making sure to add, “However, if we can't find them, I will be happy take care of you myself.”

They pulled away, and their eyes brightened through the glaze of tears. For the first time, hope seemed to bloom. “Promise?”

“I promise. Come with me, little pearl.” Kokomi said gently. “I’ll make sure you are well taken care of, alright?”

She held out her hand, and they tentatively grasped in in her own.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai.

---

LOCKED AND LOADED [Yandere!Wanderer x Reader]

Prompt: The world is about to end. How will you grieve when you're forced to be with a miserable man until the last second? [Dedicated To: @mixed-kester for the Alone Together Event]

Content Tags: yandere!scaramouche "fluff" oneshot (yes, there are no other parts:]), major persona 3 spoilers but you DON’T need to know the game before reading this since everything is explained, improper use of a S.E.E.S evoker /j, Scaramouche is so normal about you, UNRELIABLE NARRATOR, major character death/s–

V. Acceptance.

"Where the hell are you, (Y/n)?"

Standing near what should have been the front doors of his university was a short man with dark purple hair. He leaned precariously against them, his head tilted upward as if the sickly green moon's ominous pull was nothing to be afraid of. Gekkoukan University's nearby dorms– fraternity and sorority houses included– are not usually this silent. Instead of people, coffins were aligned perpendicular to the ground.

The wanderer glanced at his watch with mild interest. He had been waiting for a while now. Your guest hoisted himself up, circling the ground with the tip of his shoe. The baseline of his attitude had always defaulted to irritability and passive-aggressiveness. The vertically aligned hour-and-minute hands do not placate it. The timing itself makes it worse.

It's December 31st, 2009, 12 AM– the Dark Hour.

With a harsh sneer, he pocketed his hands. You usually have the door to the Velvet Room open to him whenever. What's the big deal? Were you seriously THAT mad at him? Really? He didn't do anything to warrant this "pettiness". He had never known silence as much as this moment.

You should've accounted for the hostility that proceeds on the "off-chance" he did arrive early.

His tone darkened, his bloodied hands gripping his S.E.E.S evoker tightly.

"If you don’t show up, I will cleanse the world of human emotion all by myself"

You shook from afar, afraid of how he wouldn't hesitate to make his threat a reality. He had already taken so much– you were beyond mad at him. You were terrified. Wronged. Abused. You didn't want to step into the light. Much worse, step into his shadow.

The worst thing evil can do is to turn you into one of them.

He clutched the bloodied yellow scarf in his hands tightly.

Why did this happen?

How did things END up like this?

IV. Depression.

You took a deep breath and charged forward.

You don't trust [Wanderer] ever since Ryoji told him about the impending apocalypse.

Seldom do you leave the Velvet Room. You weren't hiding in the Velvet room months before the end of the world was imminent. When April had only reached its fourth day, there was nothing you wanted more than to spend time outside. So ignominiously innocent. You did not know who [Wanderer] was and how much effect he would have on your life at the time. You were just tired of the ongoing stream of uneventfulness.

And now here you are, berating the protagonist in full.

"[Wanderer], why is Ryoji missing?! US ATTENDANTS CAN'T FIND TRACK HIM ANYWHERE!!!"

With a fistful of his university uniform, you yanked him by the collar. Your eyes were livid as you reeled your composure. This wasn't what you had in mind when you were "isekai"d into a video game. Out of any game, why did it have to be Persona 3? And out of anyone that could be a protagonist, why did it have to be HIM?!

You thought this would be a grand affair... Whatever they spun in anime back when your reality existed were pure lies. Where are the scenic views? The mountains? The grasslands? This plane of existence you're forced to sit through for eternity was far from the RPG fantasy people would hope for. No closer you could ever be to paradise.

In fact, this man is threatening to ruin said paradise.

[Wanderer] pulled your hands away forcefully. His glare was not that different from yours. "Why do you care about him so much?"

"Oh, I don't know! Maybe it's because his death means forgetting everything?!" You clenched your empty fists. "You know damn well what happens if he dies! You'll lose all the help you can get to stopping the Fall!"

Such a heavy weight on your shoulders but the protagonist doesn't care. This may be a turn-based game– but it wasn't based on you. If it was, you wouldn't be screaming your heart out at him! You wouldn't be an NPC. Hell, you'd probably be a better protagonist than him.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed every stress out of your system.

"Listen—" You rubbed your temple. "You need to start forming bonds. Social links. Support system. Confidants. Whatever you want to call it. You were supposed to have the answer by now as to what life is for."

[Wanderer] remained silent throughout your spiels. His facial expression alone was enough to infer immense disinterest. You were mindlessly doing your job. There will be no tirade or physical aggression that can convince him that you believe in your assertions with full conviction.

"Do you want to see him?"

"Yes! Of course. Knowing you, you're—"

"Tempted to kill him because you think I want the world to end?"

"Obviously."

That's where you're wrong.

A nihilistic man can have other reasons to commit murder.

"But if he's missing, you can forget about him, right?"

"What on earth are you talking about?!"

[Wanderer] turned around. "Meet me later, you know the time."

"I'll show you where Ryoji is."

III. Bargaining.

XX/09/2009

He doesn't recall the time he was brought into this world like you had.

Puppets are malleable. Memories are easy to overwrite when your body is held together by white wood and "khemia". His past evades him.

Maybe it's better this way.

He took you to Chagall Café. Although it was your first time out in a long while, he had no qualms about ignoring your questions. He feigned deafness as you asked about the news, his college life, friends, or anything related to what was happening in 2009. And he even ignored your humble request to buy the cheapest coffee for you. Instead, he bought you a chocolate frappe.

"For Elizabeth's cutest little sibling." He said, sarcastically copying Elizabeth's tone as he sharply handed the drink. "Wouldn't want everyone's darling to get a caffeine addiction."

Thanks, asshat.

Of all his offensive behavior— he really spent more money just to insult you. You shook your head and accepted it. It's the most expensive one on the menu too. What dedication to being a hater. But before you could open your wallet, he shot your payment down.

"Just take it." He smirked. "Look at you, paying me back for treating you poorly. Are you a masochist?"

You immediately shoved your money back in. "You still bought me a free drink, so really, who's the loser here? Prick."

[Wanderer] laughed heartily before he pulled out his battered codal, which had underlined texts for provisions he deemed important. There was a momentary softness in his gaze that disappeared in an instant.

But that's the only conversation he planned on having that evening. He did mention he'll drag you out in his study session so you weren't too shocked by it. Instead, you sat and awkwardly people-watched. The world you came from and this one were identical. You got through your old 2009 just fine— it's just that Tatsumi Port Island was not a real location from your original Japan.

Your memories about the video game Persona aren't very clear since you reincarnated in the game, but the red band [Wanderer] wore on his sleeve affirmed that he is the leader of S.E.E.S. It's nice to know that someone like him has the potential to become a leader.

[Wanderer] appeared wholly immersed in his studies.

…

Maybe he wouldn't notice if you looked around—

…?!

He immediately grabbed your hand. You yelped slightly as you noticed the iron grip he had.

"Where are you going?"

Don't leave him.

He squeezed just a bit more tightly.

"W-What the— I'm just going to the bathroom." You felt a shiver down your spine as you shared his gaze. There's a dull coldness to it you couldn't quite place, as if he had been a witness to injustice, sevenfold.

You quietly sat back down. He still hasn't let go of your hand.

"Good riddance." He muttered.

"If it isn't [Wanderer]!"

You turned around, yanking your hand away.

It's Ryoji.

You stood up, gawking.

"W-Woah, are you okay?" Ryoji asked, hurriedly approaching you. While you were frozen in place, [Wanderer] looked at his empty hand, feeling your warmth escape his fingertips.

G-Good… he's still alive.

You thought [Wanderer] killed him.

[Wanderer] is the wildcard, and that's a terrifying factor to consider. He hasn't shown any interest in humanity. Knowing his past has not increased any hope on your end. Everyone else in his eyes are insignificant insects.

He has the power to end Ryoji.

He has the power to end this world.

Locked and loaded.

Ryoji's eyes softened. "Wait, I think I know a beautiful face like yours from somewhere… You must be [Wanderer]'s attendant, (Y/n), right?"

You blinked.

"Wait, how did you…"

He chuckled, taking and placing a soft kiss on your gloved hands.

"I have my ways." Ryoji winked.

"Don't touch them." [Wanderer] sneered.

Ryoji stood up straight, unfazed by his threatening tone. You took a moment to examine his appearance. He had a lot of white clothing and a big yellow scarf around his neck. Just below his left eye is a mole. On the surface, he appeared quite human, but everyone seated at this table was aware of his true nature.

He is the 13th arcana. The appraiser.

You and [Wanderer] have every right to be wary.

"I'm Ryoji Mochizuki. It's nice to be officially introduced to you, Mx. (Y/n)."

"Ryoji Mochizuki…" You tasted the syllables.

"Oh? Who knew hearing my name from your lips makes it sound so wonderful."

"C-Cut it out, you don't mean that." You said, a little flustered.

[Wanderer]'s gaze fixated on you, stewing in his concoction of envy and misery. His fists were clenched beneath the table, knuckles turning white. With narrowed eyes, he watched as you continued engaging in conversation with Ryoji. His laughter was grating his ears. He couldn't bear the sight of you engaging with another man, especially someone as flirtatious as him.

Ryoji, sensing [Wanderer]'s distress, shot him a casual glance. To top the look, he paired it with a knowing smirk. He made mental notes of the man's clenched jaw and tensed shoulders.

"You seem a little on edge, [Wanderer]. Finals coming up?" He feigned innocence.

"It's December, and I'm not on edge." He scoffed, trying not to make his gritted teeth evident. "Don't you own a calendar? Finals are in March. To think a pea-brain like you managed to transfer to Gekkan…"

"Right, right." Ryoji smiled, closing his eyes. "Then it must be my proposal you're thinking of."

You stiffened; [Wanderer] did not.

"Ryoji—"

"I know, Mx. (Y/n)." He started. "I know you're not too keen on the idea of killing me. My existence is the affirmation of the Fall. None of you— sorry, I forgot (Y/n) is from the Velvet room— I meant none of them will live till Spring… Or perhaps it's more accurate to say they'll forfeit the will to live."

…

"… I-I'm sorry." Ryoji buried his face in his yellow scarf. There's a certain tremble in his voice that truly emphasizes his sorrow. "Just as all living things die, the flow of time cannot be hindered. But there's comfort in killing me. If you do… you won't have to suffer for the coming days."

If [Wanderer] kills Ryoji, Tartarus, the Dark Hour— the burden of everyone's memories will all disappear.

But [Wanderer] can retain his.

He's not originally from this world after all…

However, should he let him live, the rest of S.E.E.S's life will continue until everyone's inevitable demise.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

[Wanderer] rolled his eyes, diverting his eyes back to his notes. "Everyone will die soon, who cares? I've heard your spiel several times already. You need to get more entertaining material."

"[Wanderer]!" You scolded him.

Your eyes widened in disbelief at [Wanderer]'s unwittingly casual jabs at the apocalypse. You wanted to ask him if he was even listening, but the truth will disappoint you. A cold sweat formed on your brow.

Ryoji's smile crooked into a hopeless one.

"You depend on (Y/n) too much."

[Wanderer] froze. "What did you say…?"

"You have a group of people around you, eager to establish a bond— eager to be friends with you. You have met Junpei, Yukari, Mitsuru, Akihiko, Fuuka, and many others– but you don't consider any of them as your friends." Ryoji shook his head. "Instead, you spend your time with just (Y/n). Never anyone else. Just them. To the point that I think it's unhealthy."

"I don't care for humans." He replied immediately.

"You're human too, [Wanderer]." Ryoji shot back. "You're made of blood, bones, and flesh."

[Wanderer] fell silent. What Ryoji said was true, and yet…

"Am I?" He laughed.

The sound was hollow and mechanical. Deprived of genuine mirth. It did not sound forced, yet his eyes were dull.

…

Perhaps he lived as a puppet for so long that the idea of being human has yet to reach him.

Ryoji shifted, uncomfortably glancing between you two. The tension was palpable despite the cafe's peaceful ambiance. Ryoji cleared his throat softly.

"I should leave…" He trailed off, voice slightly wavering. His eyes darted around, scrambling for words to say. "But, um, before I leave, I just want to say again that you need to give it some more thought, [Wanderer]... It's a big deal… Just…"

Ryoji sighed. "Remember to make your choice to spare or kill me by December 31st. I'm glad you're having fun but don't get too distracted with (Y/n). I'll be waiting."

That being said, his footsteps reverberated loudly in the otherwise still room as he turned and headed for the door. He dared to turn back as he grabbed for the doorknob and saw you two sharing a look that he couldn't determine if it was one of contemplation or displeasure. He hurried out and the cafe door shut behind him.

"Happy?" [Wanderer] bitterly asked.

You paused for a moment… then grinned.

"Tsk, what are you laughing at, worm?"

"Nothing, nothing!" You shrugged. "I just thought that for a guy with a stick up his ass, you're cute when you're jealous."

That riled [Wanderer] up in an instant.

You do not know the full extent of his envy's filth.

"I am NOT—" He stopped, realizing how counterproductive it would be. "Whatever. I don't care."

"Uhuh?"

"Shut up and finish your damn chocolate!"

II. Anger.

Before you know it, it's April.

"Seriously, you three, I'm bored as fuck! Can't I just take a stroll outside?" You yelled, waving the heavy persona compendium in the air as your sisters ignored you.

It hasn't been long since you reincarnated, so your right to go outside isn't as liberal. Given the impending threat of an apocalypse, the Velvet Room attendants are especially overprotective.

"(Y/n), dear sibling, watch your mouth! You mustn't let Igor or Nameless hear you speak so vulgarly."

Taking a good look at your new "siblings", you've noticed how almost everyone was present. Margaret sat elegantly on the sofa while Theodore & Elizabeth were doing their best to calm you down. It's almost rare to have all three in one place. The three oldest were busy-bodies who had more eccentric matters they devoted their attention to. Including rapping and dancing, though neither performances are good for your senses.

"If boredom plagues you, then you should try teasing Theodore." Elizabeth yawned. "He's easy pickings."

"Sister!" Theodore pouted. "Shouldn't (Y/n) focus on studying how fusing works? It would be a better use of their time…"

"The day (Y/n)'s new wildcard learns the value of social links might just be the day miserly politicians become generous." Elizabeth shrugged.

You paled, tugging her sleeve. "Oh fuck… Am I screwed?"

She gave you a lopsided smile. "I may be your new sibling but that does not mean I am obliged to resolve your problems, (Y/n). Learn to solve this on your own."

Theodore coughed.

"Please, stop scaring them, sister Elizabeth. It's not their fault this new guest is a cruel arbiter. I fear there will not be a second of groundless joy in store for them…"

"You're not helping me relax either! Motherfucker. Can't you two speak normally?"

"Settle down, all of you."

The four of you stood straight as Igor tilted his chin up. Though you've gotten used to his bloodshot gaze, it had a way of prickling your skin this time around. With his signature smile, he closed his eyes and snapped his fingers.

"Our guest is about to enter."

"W-Wait, RIGHT NOW?!?"

Before you could react, the room transformed into what appeared to be a large elevator. The walls were barred and creaking noises began to subtly make their presence. A floating door materialized, and soon, opened.

Dark purple hair and eyes, short frame, soft face.

"…Hmm?"

You blinked.

"Wait, no way…"

You know him.

Of course, you know him.

"Everyone, meet [Wanderer]."

You decided that you two should reintroduce yourselves and forget that the past ever happened.

For now, you had been gifted with a vital role: being the protagonist's attendant.

According to your Igor, your role is to assist your guest in fusing personas. He had chosen you specifically in advance as you are his "anima/animus figure". Initially, that job was for Elizabeth. However, your beliefs, your intuition, your emotions— they're in perfect tune with [Wanderer]. Igor expects you to facilitate their spiritual and psychological growth and implore them to interact more with others.

Which, based on that alone, sounds like this puppet just hired an unpaid therapist.

"What do you want?"

"Well…"

Since you became [Wanderer]'s attendant, you've started to have thicker skin. He will always make his crankiness known each visit. You're slightly grateful for it, for how else would you know patience otherwise? Though his personality rubs you the wrong way, his strength does have merits you cannot ignore. Even Belladona, the Velvet Room's devout singer, had sung praises for his mettle. There was one line that struck you about her song, something about him being like a puppet with a beating heart unbeknownst to himself…

Which is why you thought you might as well try to see if you could convince him to take you out sometimes.

"What, like a date?" [Wanderer] scoffed then smirked, a light blush on his face. "Are you really that desperate?"

"No, eww—" You rolled your eyes. "I meant it literally. Igor and the others wouldn't let me go outside unless I'm with someone they trust."

He looked away and covered his mouth, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"Like a child?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up." You deadpanned, your pride slightly chipped. "Like a child or whatever you want to see it, as long as it gets me out of here. I just want to see the world before it all…"

You paused.

Better not to bring it up. You're not sure if Igor told him yet.

[Wanderer] raised an eyebrow. "What's in it for me?"

You shrugged. "Is money not enough?"

He paused.

…

"You've got to be kidding me— Fine, what else do you want?"

His eyelids lowered, hissing slightly. "Evil expects evil from others, huh? I wasn't trying to think of anything more, but now that I think about it…"

"Oh, great."

"… I can take your request," he pointed at you. "But only if you join me in the library. Anywhere else, especially loud places like clubs, I'll send your ass back."

That's a no-brainer.

"Deal!"

Though you've missed the peculiar sight, [Wanderer] had a small smile on his face as you shook hands. The two of you had become nearly inseparable since then.

Worryingly, he's closer to you than other humans.

The only relationship he needed was with you.

And with what little time this world has left, you hope you could have a last cup of coffee with him…

I. Denial.

Your reality crumbled. What a START.

Your family, friends... all gone. No one was left. You convince yourself you "deserved" this punishment for smoking a life away with dreadful workloads, no matter how untrue it was. When the world burnt down, you were sent into a darkness you had not known before.

The person in charge of your reincarnation process told you that for the next few minutes, you and a selected companion will see your lives flash before your eyes in a void— and it will not necessarily be a comforting sight.

But you woke up relaxed. In an abyss filled with broken mirrors meant to depict your character to pieces, you donned a plain expression. There was not an inch of you that grieved for what was lost. Similarly, you had no care for how you were being transmigrated to another realm. Though you had grown accustomed to this isolation, humanity always struggled with silence. There was ringing on your fingers. When you unclasped your hands, you saw a pointed shard. Curiously, you clenched it. But no matter the tightness of your grip, no blood came out.

Your breath fogged up the glass. You wondered why that Memokeeper told you that you deserve to live on. You thought your life was rather unremarkable.

Makes sense. You thought to yourself. I'd rather pride myself on a boring life with integrity than an ambitious yet fraudulent one.

「Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Assignments. Commute. Study. Review. Was that all your life was...? Then tell me, little (Y/n), why does the mirror in front of you appear distorted?」

And so, you gazed forward. Your reflection stood tall, larger than your life, and it beckoned you to come closer. This "(Y/n) (L/n)" had the opposite of a Cheshire grin- perhaps a caricature- perhaps an accurate depiction. Wearied of yourself and wearied of the sycophantic students around you. How unhappy are you to see yourself as someone like this? Are these the emotions you wish to be preserved? Is this the memory you want your world to be remembered by?

「These memories must be corrupted. Someone must be tampering with them. I do not think you lived a miserable life.」

I can't answer your questions either. But I think that reflection is who I am, because sometimes...

"I wish I had never been born at all."

Your lips were parted, but no sound came out. You resonated with those words, but they did not come from you. The voice was dark, hopeless, and alone.

When you were being sent off, you thought no one was around to greet you. There was another man. He had short hair and purple eyes- an incredibly rare sight in your world. This man seemed to be gazing at his reflection as well. You needn't know how he saw himself. The emptiness in his eyes did not differ from yours. He, too, was masking isolation as independence with an intense fragility. The dread he inflicted upon you was the closest you've ever gotten to facing your own perceived "weakness".

His memories were a mixbag. Some were filled with domestic bliss, but the anger in his heart triumphed more. He had friends but thought himself betrayed. His heart was constructed through a system of evasions, and he was a specialist in self-deception. This man knew little of emotions but had an abundance of it. It's no wonder he refused to sacrifice the artistry of his vengeance against humanity. You can sympathize with how he could not attach himself to those around him. He was burdened with malicious knowledge. Fakes. Lies. Insincerities. A class of his own.

However, he had a sin you cannot empathize with. A trait you can read that you're certain he had never noticed about himself.

He was a sickeningly beautiful man with a peculiar innocence.

He looked like a man who truly did not live in the real world.

This man did not feel real to you. He felt made-up. Fictional. His aura of flawlessness appalled you. Though you shared the same sentiments, you thought him dimensionless.

Yet this is supposedly your first meeting.

「Is it? Where have you seen him before? Can't you remember, dear (Y/n)?」

No. No, I can't.

「... What a shame. Worry no more, little (Y/n). Close your eyes. When you wake up, you will meet your new reality— new realm— new family.」

You nodded and agreed to a higher existence you did not believe in. Unlike others, you were a little bit more incapable of trusting a living soul. But there's no other choice.

Life is ordinarily far from anyone's control in the first place. Why bother fighting? If following can make her fuck off, it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters.

Wait…

Is that…

Scaramouche?

Before you closed your eyes and accepted your fate, you could've sworn...

He looked at you with a crooked grin.

「Thou art I... And I am thou...

Thou hast established a new bond...

Thou shalt be blessed when creating

Personas of the Universe Arcana..."」

"Hmm. Strange… Is that truly the order of the story?"

A woman stared at you.

Not (Y/n) (L/n).

YOU.

BEHIND.

THE.

SCREEN.

She smiled wryly.

Hate might empower you for a short while, but it comes at the cost of consuming you whole. Should a shard or any surface reflect [Wanderer]'s face, he would understand what he had become. However, it's too late. He had made his choice and stomped away any remorse he could have. When all is said and done, he alone will spread the ashes. He alone will stand. A blank slate.

[Wanderer] spent his life looking for scapegoats and ended up removing his responsibility.

Betrayals?

What a sad, sad puppet.

What a poor excuse to justify an entire apocalypse.

A poor excuse of a man.

"THE ARCANA IS THE MEANS BY WHICH ALL IS REVEALED." She muttered softly. "And you have been reading your story in REVERSE. Perhaps this is the only way this world can attain SALVATION. The chronological order is not a slice of life. You did not have a disagreement and decided to start your relationship over again. Life is far more WICKED."

"Read it again, but from DENIAL to ACCEPTANCE. The proper way to GRIEVE DEATH."

With great reluctance, she took the five cards laid on the table and placed them in an upright position.

"Let's see if you'd rather ACCEPT the truth or live in DENIAL."

Mixed-Kester can now message Wanderer [prior to 12/31/2009]

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