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rainydaydream-gal18 · 3 years

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The Mandalorian - Imagine Din Being Protective (Part 4)

Wow. I got it done during a lunch break, and I’m so happy. This is set near the end of Season 2. It is pretty long, just a fair warning.

Warnings: spoilers for near-end of Season 2, blasters, brief fighting.

You watched the unusual exchange unfold before you before Mayfeld’s gaze swept over the group before flickering back to land on you. He seemed to puff out his chest a little as he eyed you with interest. “And who’s this lovely miss?” Wonderful. Just fantastic.

Over the last several days, you learned that the Empire had been steadily recuperating behind the scenes. The Razor Crest had been obliterated in the matter of seconds. But worst of all, the Grogu was taken. It was like one giant nightmare that you were waiting to wake up from, only to find yourself lying in a cot aboard the Razor Crest. But you didn’t. Instead, you were standing in the middle of a junkyard to recruit a prisoner who could help locate the child.

Now to top it off, this scruffy guy was hitting on you?

You gave him a look, arms folded across your chest. “The name is _________.”

“Yeah? Nice name for a nice girl.”

Cara Dune made a fake wincing sound. “I would back off if I were you.”

He gave a shrug. “I don’t hear her complaining.”

“You better hope she doesn’t,” Cara taunted, giving him a warning look.

Mayfeld narrowed his eyes. “Or what? The Mandalorian is going to shoot me?” He gave a laugh, shaking his head at the idea.

“Thinking about it,” Din sighed in annoyance, the beskar chestplate rising and falling dramatically with the gesture. He stood, hand resting on his belt in a casual stance just across from you, completely unaware of how content you were observing him in moments like this. A part of you wondered if his annoyance with Mayfeld stemmed from his past experience working with the man, or if even a small part was because of the obvious flirt attempt he made at you.

The prisoner’s eyes widened and brows lifted incredulously as he gestured to you. “What, is this your girl now? Finally got over Xi’an, eh?”

You tried to keep the surprise and curiosity from your expression at the mention of this female, but your eyes instinctively darted to Din, whose visor was still glued to Mayfeld and refused to look your way. The man caught this subtle expression and smirked.

“Oops, sorry,” he shrugged with mock regret. “Didn’t tell her about the ex, I guess. I’ll try and keep things on the down-low then until you have a chance to talk about it.”

You hadn’t asked Din too much about his past. He expressed his disdain for the way he used to be, so you figured it was something best left untouched until he was ready to speak more on the subject. Of course you didn’t want to assume that he had never had a love interest before, but he seemed so closed-off when you met him. It was hard to imagine anyone could melt that ice. Unless this Xi’an was something special.

You felt a twinge in your chest. It was like jealousy walked through the front door unannounced and picked a place to crash for a while. It wasn’t taking over, but could be bothersome if you paid too much attention. So you decided not to. There were too many other things to worry about.

“Alright, let’s get moving,” Cara said impatiently. “We’re wasting time.”

You boarded Boba Fett’s ship, taking your seat as the others did. The new ally began the take-off, and several seconds passed in silence before Din spoke up. Mayfeld scoffed at the idea of obtaining coordinates to Moff Gideon’s ship. Cara sighed and informed him that the kid was taken.

The kid. The child.

Your little baby. You kept seeing his face, his tiny green features and big brown eyes. You pictured him happy as he sipped some broth and smiled at you. Or the time shortly after you learned from the former jedi that his name was Grogu. You and Din spent the afternoon calling him that and sharing laughs at how his ears perked. The image was replaced with the most recent memory you had of him, when he was ripped right from your arms by strange droids at the seeing stone. You glanced down at your arms, heart sinking. The bruises those droids left had already healed from bacta patches, but your arms had never felt so empty.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Din’s disbelieving tone. “Morak? There’s nothing on Morak.”

“It’s a secret Imperial mining hub, okay?” Mayfeld replied. “If you can get me in there, I can get you the coordinates.”

Silence fell over the group again. Cara glanced your way, looking as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe the prisoner or not. You gave a shrug. This was Din’s idea, and if he thought it would work, you trusted him.

Din commed Boba. “Fett, punch in the coordinates to Morak.”

“Copy that.”

----------

“I did an initial scan of the planet,” Boba said. “This is what you’re talkin’ about, right?”

Mayfeld gave a nod, pointing to the holomap. “Yeah, that’s the refinery right there.”

“Wonder what they’re refining in there,” Fennec mused.

“Looks like rhydonium. Highly volatile and explosive.”

“Yeah, kinda’ like this one, huh?” Mayfeld chuckled, gesturing to Cara.

From where you stood, you could see Boba’s look of unamusement and practically feel Din’s annoyance as the two stared at him. That sight almost made you laugh, but the situation wasn’t exactly a laughing matter.

The group speculated on the measures the Empire had taken to keep its refinery secure. It didn’t sound like getting in would be very easy. Fortunately, between a criminal, three bounty hunters, a New Republic officer, and you, a pretty decent plan was cooked up. They were going to hijack a delivery truck and infiltrate the refinery that way.

The question was, who? Who was going to hop into the truck with Mayfeld?

As it turned out, neither Cara nor Fennec could. The ex-ISB had rigged the scanners, and both of them would be recognized in the database. Even Boba couldn’t, and while the others stared at him in confusion, you chuckled under your breath. You even heard a hint of amusement in his tone as he said that they might recognize his face.

“Great, so it’s me going in alone,” Mayfeld shrugged.

“No way,” Cara protested. “The minute he gets inside, he’ll tip ‘em off. He’ll be a hero.”

“Hey, this wasn’t my idea,” he pointed out, offended. “I’m doin’ you guys a favor.”

“I can go.” You spoke up much quieter than you intended, and the bickering didn’t stop, so you tried again. “I can go with Mayfeld.” At that, the conversations around you came to a halt as they considered the idea. Cara nodded, impressed, while Mayfeld eyed you curiously.

“You, uh, sure you can handle it?” He folded his arms.

“I’ve been traveling with Mando for a while now, and I’ve helped him and Cara on multiple occasions,” you told him. “I think I can handle walking in there and laying low while you get the coordinates.”

He held his hands up in understanding. “Well, okay. I think it’ll work.”

You stole a glance at Din to see his visor already fixed on you. It was that stare. The protective one that made you feel safe from everything else, yet vulnerable to him. It was like the air was stolen from your lungs for just a moment. You figured he would protest, but you hadn’t expected what he’d say next.

“I’ll go,” Din volunteered.

Mayfeld’s gaze traveled to him, and he scoffed. “Hey buddy, I might be good at fast-talking, but I don’t think I can explain away a guy in a Mando suit to Imperial guards. So unless you’re gonna’ take off that helmet, it’s gonna’ be me and _________ heading in there. Or say goodbye to your little green friend.”

“That’s not an option,” you argued, feeling the pain well up at his words. You couldn't imagine what Grogu was going through, even now as the lot of you debated how this situation was going to play out. You didn’t want to think about it, but you kept seeing him reaching for you.

Din’s words drew the gazes of the entire group. “__________ isn’t going in there. I’m coming with you instead. But I won’t show my face.”

“No, Mando, even if you’re going, I’m going too.” You blinked away the tears that had just started to blur your vision, fortunately catching them before they fell, and looking at him with resolve. “I can’t stand by and do nothing. Not with our baby being held by the Empire.”

It was suddenly quiet. Much too quiet. And that’s when you realized your mistake. You hadn’t called Grogu the baby. Or even just his baby. You had definitely used the word our. It made you want to vanish into the jungle- especially when you took in how the group was looking at you. Cara’s lips parted in a surprised smirk as she tipped her head slightly. Fennec raised a brow, though her expression didn’t betray her intrigue in any other way. Even Boba Fett’s eyes seemed to soften; whether it was over your expression of care for the child or out of pity at your slip-up, you weren’t sure. You didn’t even want to look at Din, but you found yourself staring into his visor, searching for some indication of his feelings on the matter. There was nothing, just silence. Mayfeld sighed, though it didn’t sound like exasperation. It almost sounded sympathetic.

“Look, typically for a delivery like this, there’s only two troops,” he pointed out, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. You looked to him, glad for the attention to be taken off of you. He caught your pleading gaze and let out another sigh. “It’s uncommon, but not unheard of. I think we can get by with the three of us. But you gotta’ lay low, like you said.” He pointed at you, and you nodded. “Alright. We’ve got to go.”

The nerves were building up in your chest as you, Cara, Din, and Mayfeld dropped onto the juggernaut. This wasn’t like going undercover at the cantina. This was a whole other experience entirely, but you felt ready. Before long, the two troops were taken out, and their armor taken away.

Din disappeared around a corner to change out of his Mandalorian armor and into the Imperial trooper gear. Mayfeld complained about the smell of his newly acquired armor, and you were grateful to be wearing the spares that were tucked away. You found a spot on the juggernaut to slip the armor on. It wasn’t built for a female, so it wasn’t the best fit. Still, it would have to work.

Suddenly, Mayfeld chuckled. “Look at this.” You peeked your head out of the juggernaut to see what looked like a trooper approaching, but you knew to be Din. “Oh, the shame. Now that right there is worth the price of admission.”

“Wish I could say it looked good on you,” Cara said, smirking. “But I’d be lying.”

Din ignored her statement. “Just make sure you take out the rooftop gunners, or we’re never getting out of there.”

“We got you.”

“Take care of this.” Din handed her the duffel with his Mandalorian armor. “Keep it safe.” As Cara took it, she assured him with a sincere look that she would. You knew she would. Like you, she knew what it meant to him.

“Hey guys. Still on the clock,” Mayfeld reminded them. “Me and _________ are all ready to go. Right?” He leaned over and gave your boot a nudge from where he sat.

You shrugged and were glad to pull the trooper bucket over your head. For once, you could be the mysterious face under the helmet. “I’m ready when you’re ready.” Not to mention your voice sounded pretty cool in the modulator. Such a shame that it was a stormtrooper helmet because you could get used to this.

While Mayfeld was busy taunting Din in an unsuccessful attempt to get a reaction, you looked to Cara.

“Wish me luck.”

“Oh, I will.” She shot a glance at the chatty man. “Considering the company you’re going to have.” Then she looked back at you with that smirk from before. “So what was that about earlier?”

You pulled the Imperial bucket off your head so that the modulator wouldn’t broadcast your voice. “I don’t know what happened, Cara. I can’t believe I said that. We’re definitely more than travelling companions at this point. I care a lot about him. I think I even... ”

She nodded, smirk becoming a more reassuring smile. “I understand. It seems like he feels the same about you.”

“Still, I’m afraid that I overstepped in calling Grogu our child.” You shook your head. “He hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“Well there’s not a whole lot of time to talk, and it’s the kinda’ thing that takes time to sort out,” she pointed out. “I’m sure it’ll be fine-”

“Hey, if you two ladies are done, we have to get moving,” Mayfeld called.

“Yeah, yeah,” you groaned, pulling the helmet over your head again. You clambered into the front of the juggernaut to get situated. The two guys were already seated and taking a look at the vehicle’s controls. Mayfeld seemed content to be with his helmet off, while Din of course kept his on.

“Feels better when it’s off,” he commented, glancing over at his companion. Din’s trooper helmet simply turned to look in his direction. He gave a smile in response before turning his attention to the road again. “__________, you too, huh?”

“I don’t ever get to wear a helmet, so I’m just enjoying this while it lasts.”

“You’re enjoying this?” Din asked. His tone didn’t seem to carry any disdain, just innocent curiosity.

“Well, not this. I mean the helmet. It’s nice to have some privacy when I’m surrounded by people who get to cover their faces. You guys don’t know whether I’m smiling or what in here.”

“You’re smiling right now,” Din said, making you turn your visor in his direction suddenly.

“How did you know that?”

“I can hear it in your voice.” And as if to prove his point, you picked up on the amusement in his tone as well.

Right. You forgot for a moment that he had a lifetime to discern emotions through helmets, being that he was a foundling in a Mandalorian community and all.

“You know, you two are just adorable,” Mayfeld interjected humorously. “Seriously, I’m touched.”

The conversation died down again after that. You were rather pleased with the exchange you had with Din. At the very least, he didn’t seem irritated with you about your earlier statement. Things seemed to be going rather smoothly.

- - - - - - - - -

You’d never been so happy to see Imperial troops in your whole life. As Mayfeld pulled the juggernaut into the safety of the Empire base, they flooded the bridge and fought off the oncoming pirates. Din had re-entered the vehicle, groaning in pain from his fight. You noticed his armor had been busted off in some places from the fight.

“Mando,” you said softly, hand on his forearm.

His visor looked to you as he said in a strained voice, “I’m alright.” His reassurance put you somewhat at ease. You knew he wasn’t really fine- he had injuries- but he was okay. He made it.

“Never thought you’d be happy to see stormtroopers.” Mayfeld saluted the line of troops that saluted and waved as the vehicle passed by, most likely to make things convincing. He and Din stepped out of the juggernaut to be met with actual applause and cheers. One even clapped a gloved hand on Mayfeld’s shoulder in congratulations. It would have been heartwarming if not for the fact that it was the Empire, and these people were working toward an oppressive future. You hopped out of the vehicle, glad to be on solid ground and not on a shaky roadtrip with rhydonium in the back.

“Okay,” Mayfeld said. “All we gotta’ do is find a terminal.” You moved to Din’s other side, and the three of you began making your way through the crowd of cheering troops. His gloved hand took yours for just a moment and gave it a light squeeze, and you returned the gesture before separating. “Should be in the officers’ mess.”

“I’ll stand by and keep an eye out,” you said.

“Good,” Mayfeld nodded. “We’ll make it quick.” You watched as the two men headed for the mess hall, and you found a spot along the wall to wait, bucket tucked under your arm. The occasional trooper stopped by to congratulate you or give you a pat on the back. This extended contact with Imperials was starting to get to your nerves.

Mayfeld and Din still hadn’t returned. Whether you were being paranoid or not, you weren’t sure. Better to play it safe. You headed in the direction they had gone earlier, helmet still under your arm, and tried to act casual. Mayfeld was standing at the doorway, eyes shifting between the floor and his surroundings. No sign of Din.

“Where is he?” you demanded. “Is he okay?”

“He’s in there.”

You followed his gaze to the mess. Everyone in the room had their helmet off.

“I don’t see him.”

Mayfeld sighed. “He’s over there by the terminal.” Both of you leaned in to sneak a glance, and you gasped softly. You saw his form standing there in the very back, head of messy brown hair. “I couldn’t go in. He had to do a facial scan to get the information.”

“You could’ve gotten me to do it.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” He shook his head. “But we wasted enough time as it is. He was worried about you going in there alone. You know, he’d really do anything for that kid, and for you.”

Oh, Din.

“Trooper,” an officer said, and his eyes were fixed on the dark-haired man in the corner that you knew was the man you’d fallen for. He rose from his seat, and your heart was pounding.

“We need to do something,” you said.

Mayfeld shook his head, eyes on the floor. “I can’t. I already said can’t go in there.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.” You straightened up, taking a deep breath, and quickly walked through the mess until you intervened the officer’s path. “Sir. You called for me, sir?”

He paused, eyes narrowing, as he stared at you. “I was referring to another trooper. The one by that terminal.” He moved to get around you, but you side-stepped to block him again. “I’m sorry, you’re sure there’s nothing I can help you with?”

He gave you a condescending look. “No, but thanks anyway.”

You hoped that Din had escaped the mess because there was nothing more you could do unless you caused a big scene, which was not in the plan.

“Trooper,” he continued, stepping around you. But to your surprise, he was faced with another. Din had walked over. Inwardly you burned at the thought of the Imperial officer looking at his face. You averted your gaze, feeling as if it would be wrong not to. Even though you wanted nothing more than to drink in his features while you could.

“You should pay attention when a superior officer addresses you,” the man said. He tipped his head to one side in observation. “What’s your designation?”

Din spoke, voice unmodulated and sounding so small. You’d never heard him sound so unsure before. “Transport crew.”

“What?”

“My designation is transport copilot,” Din said, forcing his tone to sound confident as possible to make it more convincing.

“No, son,” the officer chided. “What’s your TK number?”

“My TK number is…” He hesitated, and you could do nothing but stand aside and wait, holding your breath. How many numbers were in a TK number, anyway?

“This is my commanding officer, TK-593, sir,” Mayfeld’s voice interjected as he strolled in front of you. He spoke so casually that you were sure he’d pull it off. “I’m Imperial Combat Assault Transport Lieutenant Tk-111, sir.” He gestured to you. “This is TK-501.” Then, he glanced at Din. “I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a bit since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.”

Your eyes wandered past Mayfeld, catching another glimpse of dark, messy hair. To some it might seem a minor thing, but to you it was adding to the escalating situation. Brown eyes locked with yours, and your breath hitched. Din was looking at you. There was a trace of warmth in his eyes, and your hesitation vanished. You took in the way his brows furrowed slightly over his eyes, crinkling them at the edges. You memorized each feature. His nose. This cheekbones. The handsome way he seemed to be looking right back you. You quickly turned your gaze back to the officer in front of you who looked in Din’s direction.

“What’s your name, officer?” he belted, enunciating each word. Seeing Din’s face had been a shock, and in the middle of the stress, this officer’s behavior almost made you laugh, but you swallowed the giggle that threatened to make things worse and kept your composure. The officer leaned in, waiting for a response.

Mayfeld took the liberty of answering instead. “We just call him ‘Brown Eyes.’ Isn’t that right, Officer?” Din’s eyes flickered over as he gave a hesitant nod.

“Come on,” Mayfeld landed a hand on his shoulder and his other one on yours to lead you away. “Let’s go fill out those TPS reports, so we can go recharge the power coils...”

“You’re not dismissed.”

- - - - - - -

In short, things had gone from bad to worse. Mayfeld was growing shakier by the minute as this guy ranted about the Empire and the sacrifices that were made so far. You kept glancing at Din, who looked just as concerned as you, as Mayfeld visibly became more distressed.

Finally he raised a blaster and shot the sick man across the table. It turned into a firefight that ended just as swiftly as it began. Once the mess hall had quieted, Mayfeld handed Din his trooper helmet.

“You did what you had to do,” he said. “I never saw your face.”

Din stared at him for a moment before accepting the helmet. He quickly put it back over his head just as more troopers arrived on the scene. You sprung into action, pulling out the blaster at your belt and firing.

From there, it was just a quaint little trip out the window and along a ledge above roaring waters of the refinery with several stormtroopers in pursuit. Shots were fired. You ran.

It wasn’t until you were pulled further onto Boba’s ship by Din that you were able to stop and breathe. Mayfeld was set free by Cara and Din after he blew up the Imperial refinery, and after he left, Boba set a course for Moff Gideon’s ship. For the first time in a while, you and Din had a moment alone as he found the duffel bag of Beskar armor. He paused as if thinking it over, before setting the duffel back down. The stormtrooper visor was focused on you again. You had long removed yours, and so you gazed back with your own eyes. Suddenly, he placed a hand on either side of his helmet and slowly began to lift.

“Din,” you whispered, quiet enough so no one else would hear, as you gently stopped him with the touch of your hand to his wrist. He let go of the helmet only to put his hand over yours.

“You need to know,” he began. “About Xi’an.”

“What? No, no, there’s no need.”

“I could tell it bothered you.”

“Well, yes… Mayfeld made it sound like she was rather important, like you just finally got over her, and it bothered me that you never mentioned her.” You shook your head. “But I guess there was no reason for you to.”

“There was nothing to get over,” he said simply. “We flirted here and there. It wasn’t anything real. It wasn’t love. I think Mayfeld was just bitter because you weren’t responding to his attempts.” The chuckle that emitted from Din’s stormtrooper helmet made you smile. It was a sound that you never imagined getting used to.

You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped your lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For talking with me,” you replied. “I was worried that after earlier you were irritated.”

“Earlier?” His tone went higher ever so slightly in realization. “Oh, right. Your turn to talk.”

“My turn?” you gulped. “No way. Let’s just forget it happened.”

You could almost hear the amusement as he tipped his head, the visor staring at you in silence.

You sighed in defeat, observing your hands as you fiddled with the stormtrooper gloves. “Alright, well...the truth is, it sort of slipped out. I think of the kid as yours because, well, you’ve been looking after him since before I met you. And the Mandalorian we spoke to said that you are as his father, by creed.” You paused, glancing up at his visor before continuing. “But...I’ve also come to think of him as my own as well. When I met the two of you, of course I thought he was a cute little guy, but I never imagined I could love someone so much. I adore Grogu, really, even though I haven’t cared for him as long as you…”

“That does not matter.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter that I’ve known him longer. You care about him, and that’s what’s important,” Din nodded.

“I do care about him. As my own. And with the two of us…”

His visor was so close all of a sudden. “The two of us…?”

You ducked a little, recalling how he embraced you on that planet after a tense training session. “You know.”

“Do I?” he teased in a low voice, helmet even closer.

“With the two of us together, sort of, I guess I thought of us as a family...I guess. And it slipped out earlier. In front of all those people.” You raised a hand to cover your face in embarrassment at the memory. Din didn’t say anything for a moment. He reached up to pull your hand from your face gently, and with the other he lifted the stormtrooper helmet off with a deep breath.

As you peered into those brown eyes once more, you smiled. He smiled too then, the movement making his eyes crinkle. It was a lovely sight, and you lifted a hand, pausing just below his chin.

“Is it okay?”

He gave a small nod, and you reached up to touch his cheek. It was a little stubbly toward his jawline. Then you went up to start at the crease between his brows and trace down the length of his nose to his lips. He tenderly took that hand in his and kissed the fingertips.

“We’re going to get him back,” he said.

You smiled again. “I know we will.” Then, your smile faded. “And if we find where he belongs, with a jedi, then I am prepared to do what’s best for him.”

His eyes look sad as he responded, “me too.”

“For now,” you said quickly. “Next stop is Moff Gideon’s ship. We are going to take him down and get Grogu back.”

With that, Din leaned in and planted a feathery light kiss on your lips. It was something you had not expected since the moment you first laid eyes on the Mandalorian. You never imagined that you’d end up with him, seeing his face, or kissing him. You returned the kiss, touching his cheek again as you let him pull you closer, wrapping both arms around you.

The last few days had felt like a nightmare that you hoped to wake up from. But now it seemed that even in the darkness there was a glimmer of hope. The nightmare would give way to a dream.

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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“Uptown girl -- You know I can't afford to buy her pearls, But maybe someday when my ship comes in, She'll understand what kind of guy I've been, And then I'll win!”

~“Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel

x~x~x~x

Bill Weasley had always had trouble relating to kids his age. As the oldest of seven kids, he’d pretty quickly slipped into the role of support for his mother Molly, parenting and looking after his younger siblings while his father Arthur was at work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. Even when he was little, there wasn’t really anyone his age in his tiny hometown of Ottery St. Catchpole. All of the other magical families with kids in the area were much younger than Bill, and it was always a tricky proposition trying to play with the Muggle children who lived closest to the Burrow, with the Statute of Secrecy looming large. So when Bill got to Hogwarts, he found himself almost inevitably falling back on how he acted around his younger siblings, even with kids his own age...which, in turn, made Bill lose his footing, when those kids his age didn’t respond well to being coddled or “looked after.” And given Bill’s rather modest, people-pleasing personality, he wasn’t the type to force anyone to listen to him or do what he said...and so, almost inevitably, he found himself at a loss about how to interact with someone without looking after them in some way, on completely equal footing. And thus Bill Weasley, sweet and amiable as he was, actually found himself largely alone in those first two years he spent at Hogwarts -- and that solitude was something he found out pretty quickly he really didn’t like.

Bill was relieved when his younger brother Charlie started his first year at Hogwarts. Although Bill had trouble admitting to his family just how unhappy he’d been those last two years, the eldest Weasley was secretly relieved that he’d now have some family at school too. He had always been closest to Charlie out of all of his siblings, given their closeness in age, so it was comforting to know he’d at least have one friend to spend time with, when he wasn’t in class. Charlie’s year, however, also included a ginger-haired Slytherin girl called Cromwell -- the same surname as the infamous “delinquent” Jacob Cromwell, who’d been expelled from Hogwarts and disappeared mysteriously a few years ago.

Bill first heard about Jacob Cromwell’s sister Carewyn through Charlie, who’d heard that she’d stood up to another Slytherin in their year, Merula Snyde, for bullying Charlie’s timid dormmate Ben Copper and even defeated her in a duel with a Disarming Charm, a spell not taught until at least Bill’s year. Despite himself, Bill actually felt a bit relieved -- he hadn’t known Jacob Cromwell at all, but he figured it had to have been really difficult, for someone to lose their only sibling. Even if he didn’t know Carewyn Cromwell at all, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her...but at least if she was still confident enough to stand up for herself and others, then it probably meant she was doing okay, even with what had happened to her and her family. And his analysis seemed to be confirmed when Carewyn sought Bill out to get his help the following year with breaking the curse on the Ice Vault. From the moment they first met, Bill made up his mind -- Carewyn Cromwell needed someone to look after her, so he would, until she found her brother again. And so Bill and Carewyn became friends.

In Bill’s fifth year, he was named Gryffindor Prefect. It was a rather obvious choice for Minerva McGonagall, considering Bill’s predisposition to “look after” and mentor younger students, but it still filled Arthur and Molly Weasley with immense pride. It was also the first year that Bill and Charlie invited Carewyn home for the holidays, upon hearing that her mother Lane had been commissioned by the Ministry of Magic for an international assignment and wouldn’t be able to be home in time for Christmas. When he heard Merula Snyde also wouldn’t have anyone to spend the holidays with, Bill made the remarkably kind move to invite her to the Burrow as well, even with Charlie and Carewyn’s misgivings -- but that holiday ended up being one of the best all four of them had ever had. Merula and Carewyn were even able to mend fences enough to sing Christmas carols together, the first’s clear Soprano voice hovering ethereally over the second’s warm, emotional Alto harmonies. That Christmas was also the year Carewyn gave Bill his very first record -- an album called An Innocent Man, by an Muggle artist named Billy Joel. Arthur Weasley was almost more thrilled by the gift than his son was, and he immediately brought out the Muggle record player he’d...”been allowed to take home” from work so Carewyn could show the Weasleys how to play the record on it. And for the rest of the winter break, it wasn’t uncommon for one of the Weasleys to put the record on in the background while doing dishes or playing a game of Wizard’s Chess in front of the fire. The song from the record Bill found himself humming the most, even after returning to Hogwarts, was the first song on side two of the record. He’d liked the tune immediately just because it was fun...but it also reminded him of a girl in his year he’d been trying to muster up the courage to talk to -- a very pretty and daring Gryffindor named Emily Tyler.

“And when she's walking, she's looking so fine, And when she's talking, she'll say that she's mine... She'll say I'm not so tough, Just because I'm in love with an uptown girl!”

Emily Tyler was the most popular girl in Bill’s year, as well as one of the most popular in Gryffindor house overall. She’d made a name for herself at the Dueling Club, where she remained Gryffindor’s main champion -- it was likely only thanks to Hufflepuff’s own dueling prodigy, Diego Caplan, that Emily had any competition at all. She also was top of her class in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Bill’s favorite and best subject, even managing to Stun an entire flock of bats with one spell. And coupled with that talent was a lot of style, confidence, and ability to captivate and charm others. She never seemed uncomfortable in a crowd and never seemed to be at a loss for words around her peers -- something Bill himself still struggled with. She’d even expressed some interest in Cursebreaking post-Hogwarts, gushing about the acclaim and glamour of the profession. In short, in Bill’s eyes, Emily just seemed amazing -- a bit out of his league, sure...but maybe if he was brave and put himself out there, she might give him a chance!

So one day, right around spring break, Bill passed Emily a note in Defense Against the Dark Arts, asking her to meet him in the castle courtyard. The eldest Weasley was kind of an emotional wreck on the inside, absolutely beside himself with nerves, but he put on his bravest face anyway. He’d even brought a pink rose, which he tried to keep out of sight in his back pocket until Emily arrived. It was the flower that caught Carewyn’s eye, when she was passing through the castle courtyard.

The third-year Slytherin had been planning on meeting up with Ben and Rowan in the library so they could study up for an upcoming Charms test, but she put that on hold, seeing her friend Bill sitting alone in the courtyard, as if waiting for someone. Normally she would've gone over to say hello, but the pink rose in Bill’s pocket made her give pause -- a fortunate thing too, for not long later, Bill shot to his feet as Emily Tyler entered the courtyard. She was dressed head-to-toe in bright pink, with her dark hair tied up in a high ponytail and her makeup impeccably neat. She wasn’t alone -- several other boys and girls were with her, all talking to her animatedly. They reluctantly waited for her at the edge of the courtyard, their eyes locked on her as she approached Bill. The scrutiny from Emily’s cohorts clearly intimidated Bill, but he didn’t let it rattle him. He faced his crush with the best smile he could.

“Hi, Emily,” he greeted. “Thanks for coming -- I know you’re pretty busy with the Dueling Club...”

“I am,” assented Emily. Her voice was matter-of-fact.

Bill gave a weak, uncomfortable laugh. “Well, uh...I won’t take up too much of your time, then. I just wanted to...er...”

He took the pink rose out of his back pocket and offered it to her. Emily blinked down at it in surprise.

“I wanted to...give this to you,” said Bill with a modest smile. “Pink is your favorite color, I’ve heard. Not that I’ve been eavesdropping on you or anything,” he said very quickly, “I just heard you tell one of your friends that once, last month, and...”

Carewyn felt very uncomfortable, listening to this. Deciding at once that the whole thing really wasn’t her business and that Bill deserved his privacy, she turned to go. She probably would’ve walked away, were it not for how disdainful Emily's voice sounded, when she spoke.

“Is this...some sort of confession?”

Carewyn immediately stopped and turned back around. Emily was looking from her friends on the sidelines to Bill, her face twisted in a very critical, flabbergasted sort of look.

Bill, to his credit, somehow managed to keep a weak smile on, even as her brought up a hand to rub behind his neck uncomfortably.

“Well, uh...yes! I guess so. I...was sort of hoping we might be able to hang out sometime...maybe get some butterbeers in Hogsmeade or something -- ”

Emily’s eyes had widened little by little with every word out of Bill’s mouth until, finally, she brought them to an abrupt halt when she started to laugh.

“You -- you’re serious?” she said incredulously. She glanced over to her friends on the sidelines and then around the rest of the courtyard, as if expecting someone to jump out from behind a nearby pillar. “This is a joke, right? Tell me this is a joke.”

Her laugh and slightly louder voice had caught the attention of some other students close by. Her friends over by the entrance of the courtyard were exchanging disbelieving looks and whispers among themselves.

Bill’s smile faded.

“A joke?” he repeated blankly. “No -- it’s not a -- ”

Emily fixed Bill with a rather pitying, condescending look as she slipped the pink rose out of his hand.

“Look, Bill,” she said very coolly, “you’re cute and all -- but you really think you’re my type? You’re a Weasley. Prefect or no, you’re still a blood traitor in messy, second-hand clothes with younger students always tagging along after you like ducklings and a father who chases after Muggle airplanes and scooters rather than work a job that can pay the bills.”

She carelessly dropped the pink rose in the fountain and turned her back on him.

“Maybe actually make something of yourself, and then we can talk.”

Carewyn had been furious at the things Emily Tyler had said -- but it was the absolutely devastated, heartbroken look on Bill’s darkly flushing face that made her snap. In an instant, the third-year Slytherin had barreled right up to the pink-dressed Gryffindor as she rejoined her snickering friends at the side of the courtyard.

“How dare you!”

Emily’s friends all stopped laughing to look down at Carewyn.

“Excuse me?” said Emily, looking down at the much smaller girl with a very condescending eye.

“Bill bared his heart to you just now, and you don’t even care!” Carewyn said fiercely. “Talking about his family being poor and liking Muggle things as if it’s something to be ashamed of...clearly Bill couldn’t have liked you for your personality, because it’s disgusting!”

Emily’s nose wrinkled as she glanced around at her friends. “I don’t think anyone’s surprised you’d throw in your lot with a Weasley, Cursebreaker kid. Your family’s got even less reputation to be proud of -- not to mention your clothes are just as out-of-date as theirs are.”

The boys in the group all gave a low “ooh,” sniggering among themselves.

“Well, fortunately, unlike you, I could care less about my reputation,” Carewyn spat. “And I’m frankly glad of it! Bill is a kind, hardworking person who always puts others first and puts his whole heart into everything he does! If his family’s reputation makes it so you can’t appreciate any of that, then I’d say you’re the one who needs to ‘make something of yourself’ -- ”

“Carey.”

Carewyn felt a hand coming down on her shoulder, almost holding her back. She looked up, to see Bill standing over her. His gaze was locked on Carewyn rather than Emily and his face was very scarlet, but his voice was low and forcibly level.

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled.

Carewyn looked at him with concern. “Bill...”

“It’s okay,” said Bill. He forced a thoroughly unconvincing smile. “Let’s just go.”

Carewyn stared at Bill for a long moment, feeling very reluctant to let the issue go. Her eyes then fell away, drifting away -- it seemed they’d acquired an audience, in the rest of the students scattered around the courtyard.

Bill would probably be even more embarrassed, if I escalated things further, she thought guiltily.

Exhaling quietly, Carewyn shot one more very dirty look in Emily’s direction and walked off with Bill. As they walked off, some of Emily’s friends shouted taunts after them.

“‘Mother Duck’ Weasley strikes again!”

“Follow along after Mama, little duckling!”

Carewyn forced herself to keep walking and not turn around. She shot a furtive glance at Bill, and saw that he was doing the exact same thing, even with the ruby red flush in his cheeks and the slight shine to his eyes.

Carewyn followed Bill out of the courtyard, down the hall, through the large double doors, and out onto the castle grounds. The eldest Weasley seemed to be walking with no destination in mind, his gaze endless and his steps aimless. Carewyn could practically feel the misery, shame, hurt, and embarrassment coming off of her friend, and it made her heart hurt. Her gaze fell to her feet as they walked side-by-side together.

“...I guess...it was her, wasn’t it?”

Bill straightened up. He’d clearly forgotten for a moment that Carewyn was there.

“Huh?” he said, before uncomfortably adding, “...W-who?”

“Who you were thinking about, whenever ‘Uptown Girl’ came on.”

Bill flushed a dark red. “What? No, I...what makes you...think there was anyone I was...?”

“Oh, come on, Bill,” said Carewyn with a pitying look. “Your eyes were always so bright, whenever side two started up. I thought...well, there had to be something special you were thinking about, when you heard that one. Even if it wasn’t a specific person...it just felt like that song was something that spoke to you, I guess...”

She offered him a weak, sad smile.

“...It kind of reminded me of when I sing certain songs. Like even if the words are someone else’s, you can sing them like they’re all yours.”

Bill considered Carewyn for a minute. Then, his flush darkening further, he bowed his head.

“...Yeah. I suppose that’s true.”

He gave a low sigh.

“...What did I do wrong, Carewyn?” he asked. “Did I come on too strong? Should I have sent her a note, or asked to meet her somewhere more private?”

Carewyn whirled on Bill with an incredulous look. “What? Bill, you didn’t do anything wrong!"

“Sure feels like it,” mumbled Bill.

Carewyn stopped right in front of Bill, putting her hands on her hips and fixing him with a very reproachful look.

“You listen to me, William Weasley,” she said fiercely. “I may not know anything about that snobbish twit -- ”

“Emily Tyler.”

“ -- I may not know much of anything about her, but I know you, and I know you deserve so much better than how she treated you. Even if she doesn’t feel the same way about you as you do about her, there’s no excuse for how cruel she was to you...all clearly just to save face around those awful friends of hers...”

Bill blinked in surprise. “You reckon?”

“Yeah,” said Carewyn. “She kept glancing at her friends, the whole time. She rejected you that soundly because she thought they wouldn’t approve of you.”

Seeing the look on Bill’s face, she added, “But that shouldn’t matter, Bill! If Emily thinks impressing her friends is more important than being a decent human being, that’s her problem. And if her so-called ‘friends’ are the sort of people who look down their noses at good people like your family...well, clearly Emily Tyler’s a rotten judge of character.”

Bill looked a bit comforted by Carewyn’s words. He tried to smile again, but it still looked halfhearted at best.

“Thanks, Carey,” he said lowly. “It’s just...well, she’s just so amazing. Talented and pretty and perfectly brilliant -- you should see her in Defense Against the Dark Arts, I reckon she’s on the NEWT level already. She even said she might like being a Cursebreaker, when she graduates -- travel everywhere, and become world-famous...”

Carewyn brought a hand onto Bill’s shoulder and gave it a supportive squeeze. It felt a little odd: he hadn’t really talked to anyone about his feelings for Emily, and just talking his feelings out, rather than listening to someone else’s...it was something he could only really ever remember doing with his parents, and only occasionally. It was weird, but it felt...nice.

“I just...didn’t think she’d react like that,” Bill admitted. “Not that I expected I’d sweep her off her feet or anything, but...I’d sort of hoped that she’d give me a chance, and that when we went out, we’d get on, and maybe even hit it off...”

He sighed heavily.

“Guess I really don’t know much about love at all, do I?”

Carewyn frowned deeply. “That’s not true at all! You know plenty about love. You love your brothers and Ginny, and your parents...and you love your friends too!”

“That’s really not the same thing,” said Bill.

“It should be,” huffed Carewyn. “Love is love. If you love someone, you care about their happiness more than your own. Sure, maybe when you marry someone, there’s a lot more kissing and you want to have kids together and stuff like that...but well, the important part is that caring, right? Without that, what does the rest of that stuff matter?”

Bill’s face softened slightly.

“...I guess you’re right. And I guess...when I am looking for that person...I should find somebody who’ll care about my happiness just as much as I do theirs.”

Carewyn nodded with a smile. “Definitely.”

She took Bill’s hand.

“And maybe someday when your ship comes in,” she sang brightly, “she’ll understand what kind of guy you’ve been...”

Bill’s face flushed again, but this time it wasn’t out of embarrassment -- this time, it was accompanied by a bright, touched look in his brown eyes.

“And then I’ll win,” he finished, in a much less trained, gravelly singing voice than Carewyn’s.

Carewyn beamed. She walked on ahead, pulling lightly at Bill’s hand so as to coax him to walk next to her.

“And when she knows what she wants from her tiiiiime~...”

Bill gave a laugh, but followed Carewyn’s lead, recalling the words by heart.

“And when she wakes up and makes up her miiiiind~...”

Soon Carewyn and Bill were back toward the castle, swinging their linked hands idly back and forth as they sang the rest of the song together, getting louder and louder with each line.

“She'll see I'm not so tough, Just because I'm in love with an uptown girl! You know, I've seen her in her uptown world -- She's getting tired of her high-class toys And all her presents from her uptown boys.... She's got a choice! Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!”

Before long, all the two thought of while singing that song was hanging out together and being silly, while not caring what anyone else thought. Not a single word of the song brought Emily Tyler back to Bill’s mind -- and in the years to come, Bill would continue to enjoy the song with no negative connotations whatsoever, instead only remembering when Carewyn and he sang it at the top of their lungs to make him feel better. And that moment did indeed signal a shift in the dynamic between Carewyn and Bill. For Carewyn, it made her feel like she was walking home with Jacob again -- like she had an older brother who she could look after, the way she used to for Jacob. And for Bill, it made him feel like he’d acquired a second younger sister -- one who emotionally supported him the same way he did his real siblings.

One thing was for sure, though -- it was this moment, among many others to come, that cemented Bill and Carewyn as the very best of friends.

x~x~x~x

Tagging @the-al-chemist and @oneirataxia-girl for expressing interest in this prompt! 🤗

Carewyn’s dress is based on the design on the left 💗

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #bill weasley #carewyn cromwell #emily tyler #charlie weasley #my art #my writing #bill's secret #BILL MY BOY #I love you so much <33 #I went out of my way to try to write in some logic to how emily behaves that has links to her gryffindor placement #namely her desire for glory and to be well-regarded #it also would explain why bill didn't pick up on how terrible she was at first #she looks down on people who are below her specifically #around equals or people she wants to impress she'd be nicer #since bill has watched her from afar he wouldn't pick up on that :(#but yeah I felt like carey-bear just HAD to reclaim that song so that it didn't have to be something bill associated with emily forever #and yeah now it's something special between them as bffs!!#and bill does eventually find his own 'uptown girl' to marry <33 #(either carewyn's 'slytherin sister' jules farrier or fleur delacour depending on the canon >D)

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jdunkirk · 3 years

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if you haven't read the lovely and amazing "crash and burn" by @aureutr, i highly highly highly recommend it, it's one of my all time favorite fics!!!

with this said, i am a man with little to no chill with my fixations, and i took the self appointed job to translate a speech from it into mando'a, for funsies :) apologies to those who don't see my read more, but i'm going to do this

under the cut shall be the speech, broken by sentences in indents, followed by my attempt at mando'a, and some things i have to say, if there is anything!

This is a message to anyone who considers themself a Mandalorian.

Ibic din'jor at an aala Mando'ad.

1st, the thing that made this take the most time was just the fact that mando'a will drop lots of information/words, leaving it up to context or word order to be implied! so nearly every sentence is shortened quite a bit, as a 1-to-1 translation would be way too lengthy for mandalorian tastes

the first word i had to invent was "message", din'jor being my result. i drew from the words "gift" and "to give" which share the root din, and the root jor which relates a lot to language, speech, and talking, thinking it was a "given speech." as an agglutinative language, mando'a would probably have lots of words like this, and looking at the vocab i've collected it sure seems to, as some of these roots are seen in lots of words that have similar or related meanings :)

roughly, it translates as "This message is to all who feel they are Mandalorian."

I am the Manda'lor and I am calling you home.

Ni cuy'Mand'alor, jor'chaaji yaim.

2nd, verbs! the verbs, as listed on all translators and dictionaries online, end with a vowel and a rhotic sound (-ar, -er, etc), but this translates as the infinitive form of the verb when used! for example, hibirar is "to learn", but saying ni hibirar is grammatically inaccurate. you would say ni hibira, dropping the -r, to say "i learn"

cuyir is especially interesting to me, as even the -i can be dropped and the verb fused to the following thing, a kind of way to especially show what you are or what something is!

i flip flopped on translating the definitive "the" as mando'a uses it mostly in emphasis, and i wasn't sure if it should be noted as special that way. i settled on "it's a big enough deal just to say it" and left it simpler!

roughly, it means "I am Mand'alor, calling you home."

For too long our people have been flung out across the galaxy.

Or'ca'nara droten re'or'goora dos oyu.

3rd, some new vocab again! this time, it's mostly just fusions onto existing words to give them a different meaning. rather than using "long" as a way to describe the time frame, i settled on something that means "a long/extreme time" since it felt concise while better capturing the specific feeling :O a similar thing extends to re'or'goora, using the root verb and attaching the "extreme" affix to create "to throw hard, fling" from just "to throw" :)

oyu is technically a new word, as it's not listed in the dictionaries i used, but i took the root from "galactic", since adjectives and adverbs consistently attach a suffix to make new words, -yc or -la!

roughly, it means "Too long have our people been flung across (the) galaxy."

Our strength once came from our numbers and now too many of us are separated and alone.

Cuun kot r'olaro teg soletyce, naysol mhi dar'tome, solus.

4th, a moment about pronouns! depending on where you look, you might get a few different results for "we," "us," "our," and "ours" especially. i double checked over a few different sources to verify which translations are most appropriate to use, and the common ones to use end up being cuun and mhi. the uncommon ones are vi and mhor, being listed as archaic mando'a.

mando'a differentiates from english/basic in pronouns as the pronouns stand for both the nominative and accusative versions (I and me, etc). the other pronoun is the genitive or possessive version (my/mine).

roughly, this means "Our strength came from our numbers, but too many of us are separated and alone."

Come to Concordia.

Olaro Concordia.

5th, i debated about trying to transcribe a kind of mando'a name for concordia. it kept me hung up for a while, not sure what it could be or if i should even do it. in the end i couldn't think of anything and left it, but truthfully it still bugs me >:( it doesn't seem extremely out of place, admittedly, so it isn't the end of the world by any means!

We will be sending ships to gather as many as we can, but come any way you can.

Ven'mashuki me'sene joruur sa birov lise, olaro an arase gar lise.

this translation should be quite close :)

The Mandalorian way is to allow any who wish to swear a creed to become one of us.

Mando'ara duumi an meg vore urmanka tomur cuun.

6th, a couple original vocab choices again! there wasn't an easy way to translate creed, so i took from the verb "to believe" thinking it was like a "belief or faith." truthfully i'm not fully pleased with it, but it was another thing that had me way too hung up so i felt i should just pick something and move on.

the last bit, tomur cuun, was a last minute change honestly. originally, i had it as cu'laror solus, but upon reflecting i felt it was too literal and wordy again. i made up tomur, which i define as "to join or become smth"

roughly, this means "The Mandalorian Way allows those who accept a creed to join us."

If you hear this message and wish to do this you are also welcome.

Susulu din'jor bal vercopaani, gar balyc olarom.

roughly, this means "(If) you hear this message and wish (to do so), you are also welcome.

But know that the training is long and hard.

A kar'tayli bajur munit, urakto.

this should translate closely again!

Too many of our wars have been against each other for differences in creed, or in clan.

Naysol akaane ru'cui tio'r mhi par urmanka, aliit.

roughly, this means "Too many wars were within us for creed, or clan."

We cannot continue this and also rebuild our home, our culture.

Nu'sla'nri bal tu'gotal'u cuun yaim, manda.

7th, conjugation and vocab! the negation of something is doing by either a stand alone article or a prefix, depending on the extent of negation. with just "continue this" being the negated part, i settled on nu' rather than ne' because i felt it sounded better.

for "rebuild," i picked the verb gotal'ur, "to make or create" and extended that as "to build," then i attached tug which seems to be the root for "repeating, again."

for culture, i settled on manda which actually stands for this rather large and powerful concept in mando belief. in short, it's the "soul" of being a Mandalorian, as an individual and also as a collective. that last bit is what really stood out to me, so i settled on that, as it's short, sweet, and very fitting in my eyes.

roughly, this means "We cannot continue (this) and rebuild our home, our culture/soul."

And so I also come before you to declare that from today onward Mandalore has a primary guiding principle.

Ni balyc rejorhaa'i, ibi'tuur, ratiin, Manda'yaim gana alor'yc ruusaar.

roughly, this means "I also announce, from today and always, Mandalore has a leading principle."

People before all else.

Adate ru an ashi.

used Reu's translation for this :)

This is the Way.

Cui te Ara.

8th, the debate about definitive-ness was settled here, finally! it felt appropriate for The Way to be the definitive noun out of them all, given how important it is. ibic cuyi te ara could be correct, but it's just a little wordy for mando'a, so "this" is dropped and cuyi is simplified further, rather than it's affix form when attaching to nouns.

Reu translates "this is the way" as cuy te yust in her work, which i somehow overlooked when i was doing my own translation, lol. i think it fits just as well, as yust could translate as "way or path," so really which translation one picks is a matter of preference!

Mandalore is calling you home.

Manda'yaim jor'chaaji gar.

roughly, this means "Mandalor is calling you." i dropped the redundant yaim for home, since it's already in the mando'a name for Mandalore.

will i do a project like this again in the future? maybe...... gotta find something that tickles that pickle again, but i had a lot of fun with it so i'm probably gonna keep those eyes open :) thanks for reading <3

#long post #the mandalorian #star wars fanfiction #mando'a #mandalore #mandalorians #conlang #artlang

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villainscomplex · 3 years

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this, at least.

hey so anyway yall know how there was that big boom of angsty ship fics right

,,,,,i wanted to write one too and I have no other excuse

!!! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH !!!

Also on:

AO3

Wattpad

FFNet

Quotev

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In his dreams, Asahi dies slowly.

His body is a mass of static and there is nothing but pain and pain and more pain. He’s vaguely aware of someone, somewhere, calling his name. Asahi, they’re saying, Asahi, please wake up.

And he does.

Asahi jerks awake violently, legs tangled in his blankets and hair plastered to the back of his neck, cold with sweat. He still feels like there’s — what? He doesn’t know the source of the pain, only that it is sheer pain, radiating through the core of his very being. It’d be easy to think it’s something simple, a bullet wound or head trauma, but the way it nestles into his chest and takes root there begs to differ.

In his dreams — nightmares, they prefer — Asahi is made of fear and desperation, of please, no, and the unnerving feeling that he’s forgetting something. There’s always someone with him, always whispering his name, fingers cold on his face.

It’s always the same scene.

He steps into a doorway and panic swells in his chest, but he’s never sure what triggers it. There’s nothing in the room but darkness, and then his feet come out from under him, and he is falling. The ground is far, and he falls forever and ever, until time stops short. He crashes into it in one graceless dive, shatters apart, and reforms at the seams with the sweet familiarity of agony.

He’s sure, with every fiber of his being, that something is missing. He doesn’t know what, or who, only that it is missing and the absence feels like a hole in his chest, a hollow place where the pain doesn’t reach.

Asahi leans forward in his bed, struggling to catch his breath. His hair falls like a curtain around his face. He can’t remember why he keeps it long, only that the idea of cutting it feels wrong, and so he lets it grow.

Suddenly, his bed feels unappealing and cold, and he staggers out of it into the quiet of his apartment.

If his life was a story, the narrator would say something like this — Azumane Asahi is a twenty-six year old man with severe amnesia and a wedding ring on a necklace, to which he doesn’t know the location of the missing pair. And that’s it, they’d say, just a detective with no memory and a lot of anxiety. He doesn’t think he’s important enough of a character to warrant any sort of life story.

His phone is where he left it when he’d arrived home the night prior, tossed onto his side table in a fit of weariness. The screen blinks dimly back at him, still miraculously alive, but only with about six percent to spare and at least three new messages to speak of. They’re all from one of the few people he actually texts, and even without looking at the contact name, Suga’s typing style is distinctive from Daichi or Shimizu’s.

He checks the time in the corner of his screen. It’s nearly five-thirty in the morning, which isn’t a bad time, but it’s still earlier than he normally gets up. Going back to sleep is about the most unappealing thing he can think of right now, so even if he isn’t a morning person, he plugs his phone up, clicks on the shabby TV, and goes to make a pot of coffee, listening to the steady drone of the early weather report.

The ring around his neck is a cold weight against his bare skin, small and heavy against the hollow where his throat meets his clavicle. It rolls and clinks softly against its chain as he moves, a quiet, ever-present reminder of a past he doesn’t remember.

It’s easy to make assumptions. He doesn’t know who has the pair to this ring, only that it feels too important to get rid of, so he keeps it around his neck. For all he knows, he was married once. Someone else had — maybe still has — the pair to this ring. He doesn’t remember being married or who his partner is, but he’s sure they must exist.

Maybe they’d left because he’d forgotten.

Asahi tucks the assumption away before his anxiety can take it and run. He’s got a life now and he can’t go ruining what he has by overthinking whatever he used to have. Lacking the vast majority of his memories hadn’t stopped him from rebuilding his life these past few months, bit by bit.

It’s only been a few months since the accident and even though he doesn’t remember it personally, that’s all everyone keeps referring to it as. The accident, like he’d gone and suffered a massive memory loss by total coincidence.

Asahi kind of hates it. He tries not to think too hard about it.

In hindsight, it hadn’t been an easy recovery. He supposes nobody ever really thinks about what would happen if they lost a chunk of their adult memories and nobody would tell them why. He’d had friends to support him through it, even if he had taken a while to remember the three of them, and because of their support he’d been able to get back on his feet.

He’s still a rookie at this detective work, but sitting down and poring over the facts and figures of the cases he’s investigating is oddly comforting.

Light peeks out from over the horizon as the morning settles in, blanketing the world outside and the living room within in a sheet of pale light. Asahi’s eyes ache from his lack of sleep. The bags beneath them have gotten worse, and he’s sure he’ll inevitably get scolded about them when he sees his friends again.

By the time Asahi arrives at his workplace, the city around him has come to life. It’s never quiet here by any means, but once the sun is up, it seems everyone takes to the streets at once. He leaves early to avoid the rush, but always inevitably catches the start of it and makes it just in time, stumbling into the doorway of the detective agency’s office.

“Hey, Azumane,” the receptionist greets with an easy smile, leaning over the desk to be seen, “just in time. Still relearning the trains?” Asahi isn’t too familiar with Narita, but the man is calm and rarely bothered by high stress situations, and he appreciates the cool head and easy attitude first thing in the morning. He’d been one of the first to make sure Asahi had felt welcomed here, and Asahi is eternally grateful for it.

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck, averting his eyes, “it’s a lot to get used to all over again. I keep hoping I’ll just jog my memory somehow and miraculously remember.”

Narita laughs. “I’m sure it’s somewhere in that head of yours.”

Asahi doesn’t stick around to chat much longer, heading up to the main office. There’s only two others inside, both at their desks doing very different things. Akaashi, ever studious, is hunched over a case file from a recent completion of his, scribbling away. Kozume, on the other hand, their resident cyber specialist, reclines back in his chair, tapping away at his phone and looking like he’s half asleep. “Azumane,” Kozume yawns, “there’s some files on your desk.” There are in fact — Asahi turns to confirm — files on his desk.

There’s also a boy there.

His back is to Asahi, but he can see the slicked black hair, wild and dark, sharp against the evident paleness of the boy’s skin. The boy visibly straightens when Asahi turns to look, whipping around in his chair.

Okay, no, a man. A grown man.

Asahi feels a little like deer in headlights, caught in the sharp stare of the man’s golden eyes, interrupted only by the equal shock of bleached blond hair in the forefront of his bangs. Asahi feels pinned in place by that unblinking stare, and it takes him a moment to remember to move.

He circles to his desk a little hesitantly, starkly aware of the other man’s stare following him the entire way around. It’s still on him when Asahi seats himself on the opposite side of the desk, and Asahi steels himself to meet it, smiling nervously.

“Hello,” he greets, “I’m Azumane. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting any clients today.” “I’m Noya!” The man declares, gives no further context, and slaps a file down in front of Asahi. “I need you to look into this.”

The words CASE CLOSED stands out in stark red lettering on the front. Asahi resists the urge to frown. It isn’t uncommon for them to receive requests to look into closed cases, but generally speaking, they’re a waste of money and time.

“Listen,” he starts hesitantly, “honestly, I’m still very new at this. Could I recommend you to one of our more experienced investigators?”

Noya shakes his head adamantly, looking appalled at the mere suggestion. “No!” He says, loud enough that Asahi flinches. “This is important to me! You have to do it!”

“I-”

Noya stares at him, lips turned down, eyes wide in a silent plea. Asahi takes the file.

There’s no photo inside, but it's very clearly labeled as involuntary manslaughter. The victim had only been twenty-five, but the details are absolutely minimal. There really won’t be a lot he can do with this, even if he does accept it. He’s sure the case is closed for a reason.

“Look,” he starts, raising his eyes.

Noya is gone.

Asahi leaps out of his seat, file in hand. Noya had just been there. He’s not surprised the man is fast, but Asahi hadn’t even accepted the case yet, and Noya hadn’t even stuck around to answer questions. Asahi races out of the office and into the entry lobby, head swinging from side to side in search of the shorter man.

“Narita,” he asks, leaning over the side of the receptionist’s counter, “did you see where that man went?”

Narita frowns at him. “What man? I haven’t seen anyone pass by.”

“I-” Asahi sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair hard enough to yank it out of his half bun and just resigns himself, tucking the file under his arm. “Nevermind. Thanks anyway.” Narita gives him another odd look as he turns away, returning to the main office. When he enters, Akaashi and Kozume both glance up strangely, matching the look Narita had previously given him, but Kozume loses interest much quicker than he’s gained it, as if this is a perfectly normal, everyday incident. Akaashi’s gaze tracks him all the way back to his desk, and only then does it fall away, leaving Asahi to his own devices. For a long time, Asahi just stares at the file. Case closed stares back at him, bold and red and final.

It isn’t to say that it’s quite uncommon for them to get a closed case to investigate. Generally speaking, it’s recommended to avoid closed cases. More often than not, they lead to dead ends and more broken hearts than when they began. The police may not investigate as much as private detectives, but they weren’t always wrong by any means. But Noya hadn’t given him too much of a choice in the matter, so against his better judgment, Asahi opens the file.

It’s almost pathetically small, three pages at most. There’s no photos, but from what Asahi can gather, it’s a twenty-five year old man who fell victim to an armed robbery incident, whose death was ultimately ruled involuntary manslaughter as a result. The culprit had never been caught, but the man’s partner had suffered some sort of collateral damage. There’s no further information on any of the three; the partner is unnamed and there are no photos of the man or the partner.

There’s nothing here that points to the case being anything other than what the file says, much less any sort of connection. He considers, briefly, that maybe Noya is the partner and wants the man brought to justice, but he doesn’t have any confirmation to this theory. It just seems like a home robbery turned homicide.

It’s essentially a dead end. There’s no address to begin the investigation and no family on the file to contact in regards. If Noya is the partner, Asahi could start there, but if he’d suffered some sort of trauma related to the incident, then Asahi has to take his testimony with a grain of salt. And this is all based on assumption — he doesn’t even know the extent of Noya’s personal involvement with this entire situation.

Noya hadn’t left him any contact details.

The thought strikes him abruptly, and Asahi sighs. This isn’t going to go anywhere without Noya’s cooperation. Asahi hadn’t agreed to investigate it in the first place. Resigned, he closes the file again and slides it underneath a few others on his desk, where it’s quickly forgotten in the wake of the rest of his work.

When he leaves that evening, files tucked away in his bag, the sun hangs low over the horizon, lethargic orange rays reclined across the darkening sky. It’s as beautiful as it is ominous, and Asahi ducks his head to avoid wandering eyes as he hurries to the train station, long coat swishing behind him.

The temperature sinks as it grows late, and despite his scarf, Asahi’s face burns with chill by the time he gets to the stairs leading down into the train station. People swarm around him, talking and huddling, faces as red as his own and stark with the relief of getting somewhere decently warmer.

Close enough to the rails to actually get on the train, but not close enough to get trampled by those trying to get good seating, Asahi tucks his chin into his scarf and takes a steadying breath.

He wonders if he was always an anxious person like this; had too much noise always been overwhelming to him? Had he ever walked with his head up, unconcerned about the opinions of those around him? Was this ever present bundle of nerves set deep in the square of his chest just a side effect of a tragic accident that nobody will tell him about?

He slides his thumb over the crest of the wedding ring on his necklace, a motion that feels like nothing but pure instinct, and then nearly yanks it clean off his neck when a hand grips his elbow, hard, and he flinches.

Asahi looks down.

Staring back up at him indignantly, lips fixed into a frown and golden eyes wide, looking as if he’s entirely unbothered by the cold despite being in nothing but a t-shirt and basketball shorts, is Noya.

“Azumane-san!”

Asahi is unbelievably shaken right now. After all, the odds that Noya would show up at the same train station as him were slim, even for this side of the city, but here he is, grip hard on Asahi’s elbow. If Asahi had gears in his head, they’d be stalling right now, and the little embodiment of his consciousness would be trying to restart it to no avail.

When the wires finally reconnect, Asahi gasps. “Why don’t you have a jacket?”

The words come out more demanding than he intended, but it’s too late to apologize, so instead, Asahi strips off his overcoat, and then the coat beneath it. Goosebumps prickle over the nape of his neck where it’s exposed to the cold, and he hurriedly yanks the long coat back on, handing the other off to Noya. Noya, who has since let go, looks a little surprised as he accepts it.

“I’m fine!” Noya huffs, but he pulls the jacket on regardless.

The sleeves slip past his fingertips, effectively dwarfing him. Asahi thinks it would be rather comical if he wasn’t so upset at this precise moment, but even swallowed up by Asahi’s undercoat, Noya feels like a force to be reckoned with, a storm lying in wait.

Asahi can’t put his finger on it, but Noya’s brash personality seems familiar, somehow. Mentally, he goes through his limited list of friends. Sugawara fits the bill closest, but even his chaos is of a different sort.

The train whistle breaks him out of his thoughts. He spots the lights as it barrels down the tunnel.

“Have you solved the case yet?” Noya asks, gaze still fixed on Asahi, unwavering.

Asahi frowns at him. “Listen,” he begins, turning his gaze back to Noya.

His words die in his throat. Noya stares back at him, eyes glittering in the faint light of the underground station, wild hair stirred around his face by the gust of cold air the train brings with it. The doors hiss open, but Asahi doesn’t move to get on yet. People stream by them on their way on or off the platform.

He can’t say no. He doesn’t know what it is, but Asahi is suddenly resigned to seeing this through. Noya’s eyes are intense and focused, hard with determination and a type of fire that Asahi can’t remember ever seeing before. He can’t say no.

“I haven’t,” he says, “but I’m going to investigate it as best I can.”

Noya’s grin makes him think that perhaps this is the right decision after all.

The train whistles again. Asahi starts, whirling back around to the platform. Oh no, the train’s going to leave.

“Are you-” He begins, glancing back to Noya, intending to ask if he’s getting on the same train.

Noya is gone. Asahi stares incredulously at the spot where the man had been, dwarfed in Asahi’s coat. He turns, glancing a full circle around himself, trying to spot that shock of blond in the crowd, but no, Noya is gone.

Maybe he got on the train.

Asahi follows suit, tucking his overcoat a little tighter around him as the doors slide shut. The people on the platform all blur together in a mass of color as the train pulls away, but Asahi swears he catches the piercing stare of golden eyes. It’s gone before he can think too hard about it, and Asahi spends the train ride and subsequent walk home staring into space. He hadn’t gotten Noya’s contact info.

“I’m home,” he says to no one as he opens his door and steps in, taking his shoes off.

Maybe he should get a dog.

Sighing heavily, Asahi drops his bag onto the floor by the door, where it tips to the side and lets a few papers and files slide halfway out. He pays it little mind, figuring he can think about it later, and makes his way down the narrow corridor into the bedroom at the back.

It’s sheer muscle memory that gets him through his nightly routine, and by the time he lets his hair down and flops into bed, he’s too exhausted to think. The somber tendrils of heavy sleep drag him deep into the sheets.

He dreams. (He has nightmares.)

Wake up, wake up, wake up, the voice is saying. Asahi, please wake up. Please don’t leave me. Please, no. Please, no.

This time, when Asahi jerks awake, the sun is still low below the horizon and his phone reads 4:36 A.M, but there’s no chance of him going back to sleep so he dons a hoodie and decides to do something with himself. In the end, Asahi goes for a run. It’s been a while since he’s just gone out like this, so he takes the short route that loops through the backside of a local park. Asahi jogs what he can, but it quickly becomes clear that he isn’t nearly as in shape as he clearly had been once. He can tell he used to be muscular and healthy prior to the accident, but he’s hardly been focused on maintaining that post memory loss. Still, running feels natural, so he tries to keep it up.

He runs into Noya again. Asahi rounds the bend, huffs of breath forming white clouds in the chilly morning air. There’s only a handful of other souls up and about this early, and from what Asahi can tell, they’re all out running too. It’s a nice change of pace to get his mind off of everything, but it’s clear the universe has other plans. As he nears the park’s massive lake, he spots a figure sitting right at the bank of it, leaning precariously over the water.

Even from this distance and without his glasses, he recognizes Noya’s wild hair paired with the white t-shirt and black shorts combo. Noya’s back is to him, but he visibly straightens as the sound of Asahi’s footsteps approach, head twisting around to fix those ever startling eyes on the taller man. “Azumane,” his eyebrows pinch, “what are you doing here?” There’s this nagging feeling in his chest. It strikes him as odd again; something about Noya is so unnervingly familiar to him, but he can’t put his finger on it. He’s sure if they had known each other prior to his memory loss then someone as headstrong as Noya seems to be would have said something about it by now, but Noya doesn’t seem bothered like Asahi is. He shakes it off.

Something seems off. Noya is quieter, more pensive. His gaze has returned to the surface of the lake immediately after confirming that he knows the person approaching him. It’s a strange change from the loud, fierce boy Asahi has started to know him as. “Noya,” he greets softly, joining him carefully by the water. “I was out for a run. Are you okay? Aren’t you cold?” “Oh,” Noya seems to remember something, “I forgot your jacket. Sorry.” Asahi shakes his head. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known I was going to come running. It isn’t like I’ve done this in a while.” Noya is staring at him again, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He’s frowning — it’s only a faint, downward quirk of the lips, but it seems so out of place on Noya’s features that it catches Asahi off guard. A matching frown slips onto his face.

“Have you made any progress?” Noya asks suddenly, peering up at Asahi intently. “With the case, I mean.” “Noya, it’s only been a night,” Asahi reminds him gently. “I’ll look into it more later, but nothing’s changed from when you asked me yesterday.” “Yesterday?” Noya echoes, as if confused. “Oh… Right. When you gave me the jacket. Okay.” “Are you sure you’re okay?” Asahi persists. “I’m fine! Listen, I’ve gotta go, ‘kay? I’ll catch you again sometime soon.” Noya takes off before Asahi can so much as consider asking about contact information. At this rate, he’s going to be stuck only contacting Noya whenever they happen to run into each other in town. Belatedly, near the tail end of his run, he realizes that Noya must live nearby, to have been at the park.

So why had he been all the way across town yesterday? Asahi glances back, as if the answer will appear behind him. The cold wind replies, whispering through the bare branches of the trees. He just can’t shake the feeling that something is too familiar about Noya to forget. Maybe it’s just the man’s strange tendencies or the way he seems so desperate for the case to be solved as soon as possible, but Asahi just can’t get rid of this feeling. He doesn’t know what it is yet, only that it feels too important to completely dismiss a third time.

So this time, he tucks it away in the back of his mind for safekeeping.

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

“Oi, Azumane,” Kozume leans around his laptop, “what was that new file you got? An investigation?”

Asahi starts at the sound of his voice. After the two loudest members of their agency had gone off on lunch, the room had finally become quiet enough for Asahi to focus on his research. His desk is in clutters, public records scattered across the surface, laptop balanced precariously on the corner and held in place only by half of a large, opened book. Asahi is in the middle of rereading the case file when Kozume speaks up. He's so focused that, in his surprise, he nearly takes out his laptop himself. Kozume just lifts one disinterested brow, strands of dark hair slipping back into their usual place over his face. “Uh,” Asahi begins, eloquently, “something like that. Client wants me to look into a closed case. I think he’s probably got some pretty personal roots in it, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him it isn’t a good idea to reopen old wounds.” “You’re too nice, Azumane-san.” Akaashi remarks from his desk without looking up. “Sometimes, it’s best to put a stop to it before it can start.” “Then again,” Kozume muses, “I guess we are getting paid for this, huh?”

They lapse into a mutual silence again.

Asahi feels like there are still eyes on him, but Akaashi is still looking at the paperwork on his desk and Kozume has returned to his laptop screen. The rest of the employees aren’t here, and Narita is presumably still at the front desk. With a faint frown, Asahi shakes the feeling away and returns his attention to the files.

His information is severely limited. That’s the biggest issue. If there had been an address on the file he could have started his investigation there, but Noya would be the easier source. The only issue with that is that Asahi still hasn’t gotten Noya’s contact information to ask him about it. That being said, he’s not even sure if Noya actually knows anything or if this just happens to be a personal investment of his. Asahi isn’t in the habit of prying about people’s personal connections to a case. As long as he can get their information and go on about his business, he’s content, but Noya is so forthright and intense that Asahi can’t help but be curious.

It bothers him, but he doesn’t know why.

“Oh,” says Kozume, voice breaking into Asahi’s thought process abruptly again, “another robbery. I wonder if it’s a chain?”

When Asahi looks back up, Kozume is still looking at his laptop, but now he’s leaning closer to the screen, visibly reading something. He turns away and wheels his swivel chair over to the side table by the door to retrieve the remote.

“Last I heard, there wasn’t any correlation between the places that were being hit.” Akaashi replies, gaze lifting from his papers. “They’re thinking it’s separate cases, but who knows. The police don’t read too into situations if the evidence is obvious.” “Lazy asses,” Kozume scoffs, clicking through channels on the overhead TV.

“Robberies?” Asahi speaks up, confused.

He hasn’t been actively keeping up with the news outside of early weather reports recently, a little more concerned with his own issues and his work. It’s more than enough to balance work and the whole memory loss thing, and while he definitely should be better about keeping up with the rest of the world, it hasn’t been his main concern as of late.

Kozume settles on a news channel. The news anchor is in the middle of reporting on the subject at hand — another local robbery. It’s the third in the past two weeks, but there’s no evidence to connect it to the other two. This one had targeted a tiny, one bedroom home on the city outskirts. Asahi frowns at the news coverage. He doesn’t understand why anyone would target a place where there was unlikely to be anything to be gained, but he feels bad for the homeowner. The newscast says they came out undamaged since they weren’t home at the time, but nonetheless, he understands the feeling of having your life uprooted suddenly.

Asahi shakes his head and returns his attention to the files before him, scribbling notes down on things to look into further and potential leads. He’ll have to remember to find Noya again and get his contact information this time. Noya is the best lead he has at this point, and hopefully he can get something out of the other man to get him somewhere in this seemingly dead end case.

In the background, the television drones on.

When evening gives way to the end of his work day, Asahi finds himself searching the rush hour crowd for the tuft of electric blond that he’s becoming so familiar with. He can’t figure out why he’s trying to find Noya here; after all, he’d come to the conclusion that he lives on the other side of town, so he doubts he’ll see him here. On the other hand, it’s possible Noya works over here too. It’d be a strange coincidence for him to be in the same working and living situation as Asahi himself, but it’d make sense as to why Noya had come to their agency in particular. It's possible that it's also the opposite way around, with Noya living here and working on the other side of town. All of the facts Asahi knows check out with one of those theories; it’d explain why Noya was at the train station, too.

But by the time he gets to the station, he hasn’t spotted Noya anywhere. Even amongst the people waiting on the platform, he can’t see the wild, dark hair, and there’s a pang of disappointment in his chest. He tries to ignore it, but it’s a persistent feeling, and more surprisingly, one that doesn’t feel new. He can’t imagine forgetting someone like Noya, but he’d forgotten someone like Suga already, so his memory loss isn’t discriminating.

The train whistles a warning. Asahi startles, hurrying on instinctively. He hadn’t even realized the train had pulled up. He looks for Noya one more time, but upon confirming that the other man is nowhere to be seen, averts his gaze to his feet. The train doors hiss shut around him, before it lurches into motion, pulling away from the platform.

It’s strange, he thinks, how lonely the platform looks disappearing behind them.

When the train comes to a hissing stop at his destination platform, Asahi’s phone begins to vibrate aggressively against his thigh. He waits until he’s clear of all the people to check it, unlocking the screen to several tests and a missed call from Suga. Just as he’s going to check the texts, Suga’s name lights up his screen again. Asahi nearly drops his phone in his haste to answer the call.

“Asahi!” Sugawara practically yells. “Have you been keeping up with the news?”

Asahi slowly brings the phone back to his ear as he walks, having held it away in his haste to avoid having his eardrums blown out.

“The news?” He echoes. “Like the robberies?”

“Yeah! Apparently, there was another one! I guess the person tried to fight back and get this - they ended up in the hospital with multiple gunshot wounds.”

Asahi grimaces. If all of these robberies are connected, then it could be a problem. Generally speaking, most robbers would flee if they were caught or met with resistance, but if this one had no qualms with hurting people, it could get dirty. Asahi is hoping they aren’t connected, but it’s starting to look doubtful. He’ll have to catch up on the situation when he gets home.

“That’s-”

Asahi cut off, turning his head to follow the abrupt streak of color that had caught his eye. He’s a few blocks from his apartment, at best, but now he turns around entirely, gaze searching. He spots it again just in time to watch it vanish through the door of a tiny coffee shop. Asahi hesitates.

“Asahi?” Sugawara calls from his phone. “Hellooo? Earth to Asahi! What happened?” “S-Sorry, Suga,” Asahi says quickly, feet already guiding him towards the building, “I have to go. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

“Huh? Hold on, wh-”

The line goes dead as Asahi jabs the end call button, shoving his phone unceremoniously back into his pocket as he enters the cafe. The bell chimes gently overhead as he pushes the door open, and someone at the front calls out a greeting that he only half hears. He’s busy thinking about how Suga will be upset with him later for hanging up so abruptly; he’s thinking that maybe he should feel a little worse about that than he does, and it has him wondering if he’s less of a friend for it. He’s busy thinking about how he’s sure to get an earful later, but his body is moving across the cafe, toward a booth in the corner where he can see the backside of dark, wild hair, and the small flick of a tag sticking up from the inside of a white t-shirt.

The man in the booth lifts his head when Asahi rounds the table, piercing gaze fixing onto the detective. It’s as if he comes back to earth all at once, awareness lighting his eyes and his expression picking up in something vaguely resembling surprise. “Asahi!” He half yells, slamming his palms into the table and standing in one motion.

Asahi flinches at the abrupt shout and one of the employees glances their way. Ducking his head bashfully, Asahi makes himself as small as possible as he slides into the booth across from Noya, reaching out to gesture Noya back into his own seat. Preferably, he thinks, as quietly as possible.

Luckily, Noya drops unceremoniously back into his seat, staring intensely at Asahi.

“What are you doing here?” He demands.

“I…” Asahi grimaces, knowing how strange this is going to sound, “I saw you coming in. You never gave me any sort of contact, so I haven’t been able to reach you for anything regarding the case.”

Noya visibly straightens. “Have you figured out something new?”

“Well, not exactly, but-”

“Oh,” Noya continues, cutting him off, “I don’t have a phone.”

Well, that certainly threw a wrench in things, didn’t it? It’s just Asahi’s luck, he supposes. Still, he’s got to figure out some way to keep up contact with Noya, since he’s Asahi’s only sure link to the case.

His phone buzzes incessantly in his pocket.

“Okay, then take mine,” Asahi grabs a napkin from the table, fishing a pen from the front breast pocket of his jacket. “And if you can, just let me know if you come across anything new. Can we meet again sometime here to sit down and talk? Like Friday?” Noya takes the napkin and with surprising tenderness, folds it, and tucks it into the pocket of his black basketball shorts. He’s staring at Asahi still, but Asahi can’t tell what he’s thinking about.

“Okay,” Noya says, “Friday.”

And there it is again; Asahi meets his gaze and he feels like he’s missing something, like there’s a piece here that he should be aware of. He can’t shake it, that feeling that he just knows Noya from somewhere, from before all this.

“Noya,” he breathes, “have we met before? Before you came in with the case?”

Noya scrutinizes him for a long moment, almost unresponsive, as if the question hadn’t even registered to him. There’s something off about the entire moment, the motionless state of someone who feels like he should always be moving. Slowly, his lips pinch into a frown, just a little downward tilt that looks so off on his features. His expression darkens, hooded over like a shadow fell across him.

He looks unsure. He looks scared.

It’s only for a moment, so quick that Asahi is sure it must have been his imagination because then Noya is laughing, loud and rambunctious and more like the one that seems familiar to Asahi.

“No way!” He decides. “You must be imagining things, Azumane-san! There’s no way you’d forget someone as cool as me!”

Asahi feels like his veins have frozen over. He’s cold down to the bone.

“Of course,” he agrees, smiling shakily, “that’s true.”

There’s a seed of doubt rooting itself in his chest, and Asahi is too scared to try to figure out the root of it.

He stands again, bidding Noya a good night, and hurries out the door before the other man gets another word in edgewise, but he feels Noya’s gaze follow him out the door. His phone vibrates in his pocket again, and he takes it out, preparing himself for the earful he’s going to get.

Something is reassuring about Suga’s ranting on the other end. It gets him home.

When he looks over the case again that night, he writes details about the recent robberies down on a notebook next to it. He gathers what he can from the news and more from the internet. Tomorrow, he’ll get more info on it from Kozume, and Friday, he’ll get what he can from Noya. He doesn’t know yet if he’s making progress here, but he’s hoping for the best.

At this point, it’s all he can do.

It isn’t until he’s getting ready for bed, braiding his hair back out of his face, that the thought strikes him. He’s thinking about the tiny coffee shop, about the bell over the door, about the way Noya had called him Asahi. He has the distinctive memory of introducing himself only as Azumane.

So where had Noya gotten his given name?

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

“You look different,” Noya remarks.

Asahi feels like he’s having deja vu. He hardly knows where the week has gone, and now he’s back at the tiny coffee shop with Noya. They’re seated in the same booth as before. Noya’s shirt tag is sticking out. Asahi has his hair loose.

“It’s the hair,” they say, in sync, and Noya grins when Asahi cracks a smile.

“Finally!” He laughs. “I was starting to think you couldn’t smile properly! You’re so nervous all the time that I was starting to wonder how you’d ended up in this line of work.”

Asahi tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “Well, I’m sure it probably wasn’t my dream career, but I don’t remember enough about my old life to know how true that is. I guess it seems like a pretty unpredictable career, but it’s routine enough to be comforting.”

Noya frowns at him. “Whaddya mean you don’t remember?” Asahi winces. Outside of the fact that nobody else wants to discuss the accident, Asahi tries not to talk about it too much. Trying to remember gives him an intense migraine, and he hates the pitying looks he gets from it. He hates feeling helpless, and there’s this part of him that wouldn’t be able to handle it if Noya looked at him like that.

“I had an accident a while back,” Asahi replies vaguely, waving one hand dismissively, “nothing important.”

Noya’s watching him like he doesn’t believe him. Asahi avoids his gaze; he has the distinct feeling that Noya will see right through him otherwise.

“Okay,” Noya finally says, “then what about that necklace you’re always playing with? The ring. Are you married or something?”

Asahi doesn’t even realize he’s messing with it until Noya points it out. He’s busted, caught like a deer in headlights under Noya’s drilling questions. His words die in his throat, lips parted but nothing coming out.

I don’t know, he thinks, clenching his fist around the ring. He shoves it back into his shirt and grips the edge of the table, focusing on keeping his hands there. “No,” he manages, smile tight again, “but it doesn’t matter. We’re here to talk about the case, remember?”

Noya’s gaze flicks down, but he doesn’t push it.

“Right.”

Noya talks. It’s not all connected, more stream of thought and dropping details as they come to him, but Asahi listens. He takes notes, putting things that he knows already on one page and things he’s hearing for the first time on another. Some of Noya’s tales have nothing to do with the case, but Asahi lets them slide, and then he realizes that Noya hasn’t been talking about the case for a while.

But here’s Asahi, pen down and still listening. There’s something about Noya’s energy that’s so easy to get wrapped up in, and Asahi hadn’t even realized he was in it until it was too late. Maybe it’s the way Noya feels familiar to him, like second nature, or the way he’s sure he must know Noya from before, but the sensation is contagious, quick like electricity and quiet like a thief.

“Azumane-san?”

Noya’s voice breaks into his thoughts again. Asahi starts, focusing back on the task at hand. He doesn’t know when he’d stopped writing, or when the case discussion had ended and the casual talk had begun, but he does realize, belatedly, that they never got their coffee. The baristas bring them out here, he’d noticed, so it strikes him as a little strange.

“Sorry,” Asahi tells him, “I just realized we don’t have our drinks.”

As if on cue, Noya’s gaze moves from Asahi to the woman approaching their table. Asahi tears his gaze away from the man in front of him to focus on her as well, putting on his most polite smile as she sets the coffee down in front of him.

“Here you go,” she says, “sorry about the wait.”

She turns to leave, and Asahi realizes that she’s only brought his drink.

“Sorry, ma’am?” He calls quickly. “What about my fri-”

He turns to gesture at Noya and falters. The seat across from him is empty; Noya is gone. The employee gives him a strange look, glancing between him and the empty booth across from him. Asahi swallows his sentence back down, where it feels like a thick lump in his throat.

“Nevermind,” he says instead, “thank you.”

She glances at the booth opposite of him again and then seems to simply accept it as strange, for she turns and heads back to the front, leaving Asahi alone with the ghost of Noya’s electric presence.

He ends up getting a to-go cup for his coffee.

Asahi doesn’t know how he got back to his apartment, only that he gets there and he comes back to awareness when he’s unlocking his front door. He falters, hand on his doorknob, gaze fixed on the crook between his thumb and his forefinger. Everything comes back all at once. Is this the right thing to do? Should he have just followed the advice and refused the case upfront? He doesn’t even know when Noya had slipped out. Had it been the brief moment he’d turned his attention to the girl at the shop? Asahi hadn't even heard the bell.

Why hadn’t Noya said anything?

Asahi is starting to think he’s getting too ahead of himself, thinking one normal conversation and a borrowed jacket makes them friends or something. But there’s the thought he’s been hesitant to admit to himself; he wants to be friends with Noya. Something about the other man makes him feel comfortable, regardless of his eccentric nature, and he’s starting to think that maybe Noya was right about his career choice being the wrong one for him.

He can’t afford to get attached to every other person he meets in this line of work. Noya is the first, but Asahi can’t say for sure if he’ll be the last, and Asahi doesn’t even know when the line in the sand got washed away. He doesn’t know if it happened halfway through their conversation or the first time he’d realized something about Noya was too familiar to ignore. Still, Noya had been right about one thing: there’s no way Asahi could have forgotten someone like him.

It’s the only reason Asahi is hesitant to let the feeling of familiarity go.

He realizes with a start that he’s still standing outside, so he pushes the door open and ducks into his apartment. Whatever he ends up deciding to do here, he’s got all the information he thinks he’s going to get from Noya. For now, he needs to crack down on the case. The longer he drags this on, the worse it will get for the both of them. He wants to give Noya the best chance he has of moving on from this, and the only way to do that is to solve it as soon as possible.

Asahi takes his shoes off at the entryway and heads into the living room, setting his bag down next to the low table in front of his couch. He yanks his hair up into a half-hearted bun and collects his notes and files, adding them to the growing pile on the table. Clicking the television on for background noise, he gets to work sorting. The details are still minimal, and the progress looks minimal, but it’s better than nothing. Besides, there’s still that robber at large, and while Asahi has no surefire proof to connect the two outside of a gut feeling, he’s learned very quickly to trust his gut.

He glances up at the TV just in time to catch a glimpse of a reporter standing in front of a house, door caved in and front yard taped off by obnoxious yellow crime scene signs. It catches his attention immediately, so he glances down at the caption.

Armed robbery. Voluntary manslaughter.

Asahi’s heart jumps to his throat. His eyes dart down to the file. What were the odds?

What if it hadn’t been involuntary? The file states that the person had been found dead at the scene, a victim of multiple gunshot wounds from a robbery gone wrong. Robbery. Check. Armed suspect. Check. Had they considered a lack of qualms against hurting people? Asahi flips his notebook to a fresh page and begins charting all the locations the robber had hit thus far. Maybe there’s some sort of pattern they’re overlooking, a rhyme or reason to the places the robber is targeting.

His facts are minimal but sure.

The robber only targets houses, never businesses. The types of houses vary. No known pattern thus far.

The robber is armed and dangerous. Generally, there’s minimal damage to any people they happen to rob, but when those people get in the way or fight back, it’s a different story. There have been people both hospitalized and killed.

The robber has no qualms about killing people who got in the way.

Asahi stares at the page. Finally, at the bottom, he writes Noya? beneath his list of facts. He doesn’t know what the precise connection is with Noya’s case in all of this, but if he can predict where the robber is going to strike next, maybe there’s something to be found there. That’s only if the police themselves don’t beat him there first. Either way, hopefully, some sort of confession would come out and Asahi could call this closed properly. If this is unrelated, then he’s going to have to think of something else fast.

It’s nearly four in the morning when he finally talks himself into going to sleep, but it’s restless at best, and he rises early. He’s off on weekends, so they’re his only opportunity to go get things done if he doesn’t want to go right after work. The case weighs heavily on his thoughts for the entirety of his morning run. When he passes the lake he’d run into Noya at that time, he pauses, only for a moment, to glance around, but Noya isn’t there.

Asahi keeps running, but he’s starting to feel less like he’s keeping active and more like he’s trying to get away from something. He feels like he’s running away from a lot of things, as of late. It can’t be helped.

Azumane Asahi is a coward, he tells himself, and this time he doesn’t think it’s a lie at all.

The next time he sees Noya, it’s on the same route and nearly a week later. Asahi finds himself searching the route consistently without even knowing if Noya even lives in the area, hoping to catch some sort of glimpse of the other man. He hasn’t heard anything from Noya since the day at the coffee shop, and he’s starting to grow a little concerned.

His traitorous heart says something else, but Asahi tries not to listen too hard to things made of glass.

There’s rustling overhead when Asahi passes beneath a tree. It’s followed by a loud yowl, and it’s this that makes Asahi falter in his steps. He pauses, turning his head up to squint into the branches. The early morning sun is bright, near blinding, but the shadow that covers Asahi blocks it out.

He sees the little tag sticking out of the collar of the white shirt first, and then the outstretched arm, pale and skinny, reaching out to a higher branch. Asahi can mostly only see the person’s silhouette, but he knows that figure anywhere.

“Noya?” He calls up hesitantly.

Golden eyes fix on him immediately. Noya looks vaguely surprised, arm still outstretched, lips parted into a perfect little circle. There’s a cat a few branches up from his perch, a skinny little tabby with all of its fur puffed out. Its teeth are bared at the other man, a low growl rising in his throat.

Asahi hasn’t ever seen a cat react like that to someone. Usually, the strays around this area are calm, used to the joggers and families who come through the park trails all the time. He frowns a little at the sight, putting one hand on his hip and using the other to shield his eyes as he peers up.

“Oh,” says Noya, “Hey, Azumane. Fancy seeing you here.”

“I run here every morning now,” Asahi frowns, “you already knew that. What are you doing up there?”

Noya gestures to the cat, who swings at his moving hand. “I came up to save him, but he won’t let me anywhere near him. I think I’m just gonna grab him and deal with the consequences later.”

“What.” Asahi intones.

Noya reaches for the cat.

“What?” Asahi repeats. “Wait, no-”

Noya stretches out of his crouch and snatches the cat in one quick motion. The tabby immediately begins yelling, claws sinking wherever they can reach. Noya yelps, and then takes a surprised step back into mid-air. Asahi shouts. All at once, Noya and the cat come crashing down through the branches, and Asahi slides down on his knees beneath them, breath leaving his body as they collide.

Asahi groans softly from his place on the ground. Noya scrambles off of him, eyes wide. He’s still holding the cat, who looks shaken, but overall unharmed.

“Asahi!” Noya gasps. “Are you okay? Shit, I’m sorry!”

Asahi waves him off with one hand, sitting up slowly. His torso aches where he’d ungracefully caught them, but at least they seem unharmed. His hair falls loose around his shoulders, and he looks around for the tie, only to find it snapped on the ground. It’d been fraying, so he isn’t surprised, but it’s still a little inconvenient.

“It’s okay,” he manages, when he finally catches his breath, “are you two okay?”

Noya beams, holding the cat up victoriously. “We’re totally fine!”

The cat bites Noya’s hand. Noya drops the tabby, and he bolts without so much as a glance back. The short man sulks as he stares after the vanishing animal, crossing his arms over his chest. There are claw marks down the length of his forearms and branches still stuck in his black basketball shorts.

“Rude,” Noya says, getting up.

He offers a hand to Asahi, but Asahi, a little doubtful that Noya can lift him, stands on his own.

“You should be more careful,” he says, frowning.

“I had it handled!”

“You fell out of a tree.”

Noya purses his lips. “You know. Fair.” He sticks his index finger out as if to agree that Asahi has a point. “You got me there.”

“How did you even get up there?” Asahi asks, gazing up at the tree.

There aren’t any visible branches that Noya could have used to climb, and Asahi has to admit that even with his height, he would have been hard-pressed to reach the lowest ones. There’s no way to get a handhold on the trunk, either, so he’s not sure how Noya got up there to begin with.

Noya shrugs. “I climbed? The cat couldn’t get down so I went up to help him.”

Asahi sighs. “Okay, Noya. My apartment isn’t far from here, so let me at least treat the scratches. It’d be bad if you got something.”

Noya hesitates, but then he looks down, inspects his arms, and grimaces a little.

“Okay, lead the way.”

Asahi tucks his hair behind his ears and turns, starting at a steady pace back up the pathway. Noya keeps at his heels, carefree and cheerful as he turns his arms over, inspecting his new battle scars. It’s almost endearing, Asahi dares to think, but he’s still not over how the cat had acted with Noya. Asahi is sure Noya isn’t a bad person, but he’s never seen a reaction like that in the months he’s been running here.

He frowns back as if the tree itself will give him answers, but it stands tall and silent, shadowed against the pale blue sky.

When they climb the steps to Asahi’s apartment, the realization hits him like a bullet. He’s bringing Noya into his apartment. How had they gotten here? Is his apartment even clean? It’s so plain that he doesn’t know what Noya is going to think about it. Had he done the dishes already or were they still sitting in the sink?

Anxiety settles in like a second skin, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. They’re already at the door and Noya is looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to unlock it. Asahi tries to hide the way his hands shake as he puts the key in the lock and opens it, letting Noya into the dark entryway.

Noya kicks off his shoes at the entrance, and Asahi follows suit, stepping in ahead of the other man. The sink is clean. The living room has a few books on the table and stray papers from his brainstorming session the other night, but otherwise it isn’t unacceptable. He flicks the light on and crosses to the table, shoving the papers messily together.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company,” he says, “make yourself at home and I’ll grab my first aid kit.”

Noya plops onto the couch, looking around like a curious child. Asahi feels strange having someone over like this. He seldom has company, especially new company, and he feels like he’s being assessed for some sort of test. Clutching the papers to his chest, Asahi hurries into his room for the first aid kit in his bathroom.

Noya is still sitting on the couch when Asahi returns. His gaze is fixed on a photo hanging on the wall. It’s of Asahi, fresh out of the hospital, Suga and Daichi standing just behind him in the frame. Shimizu had been the one to take it, and it’s one of the earliest things he still remembers. Noya frowns at it a little, like he’s struggling to think about something, and Asahi just figures he must have zoned out.

“Noya?” He says as he nears.

Noya straightens, almost imperceptibly, turning his gaze to Asahi as the other man crouches in front of him, opening the first aid kit and setting it aside on the table. Noya gets the hint and offers out his arms while Asahi prepares a cotton pad for cleaning the scratches.

“Ouch,” Noya hisses once Asahi starts dabbing over them.

Asahi shakes his head, holding Noya by the wrist to keep his arm steady.

“Are those your friends?” Noya asks suddenly.

Asahi glances up at him, and then back at the photo. “Yeah,” he says, turning his gaze back onto his task. “The one with the silver hair is Suga. The dark-haired one is Daichi. Our other friend, Shimizu, took the photo, but she’s not very fond of being in them. They were there with me when I was in the hospital for a while.”

“What were you there for?”

Asahi grimaces, remembering why he’d avoided the subject the last time he’d talked to Noya. “Uh,” he starts hesitantly.

He can feel Noya’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t meet his eyes. Asahi gets the feeling that he’ll spill everything if he does, so he stubbornly keeps his focus on treating Noya’s scratches.

“It’s okay, Azumane-san,” Noya laughs, “you don’t have to tell me. I was just being nosy.”

Asahi exhales, a little relieved. He wraps up Noya’s first arm, having finished treating the scratches there. Moving onto the second one, Asahi grabs a fresh cotton pad. He frowns as he sets back to work.

“Noya,” he starts, “where did you go, the other day? At the cafe, I mean?”

Noya stiffens a little under his grip.

“Sorry about that,” the other man mumbles, “I had an emergency I had to handle, so…”

“Oh,” says Asahi, unconvinced, “okay. I was just worried… You just up and vanished without saying anything.”

Noya doesn’t go into any more detail, and Asahi doesn’t push it. He gets the feeling Noya isn’t telling the whole truth, but he’s not going to try to force it out. He has his own secrets, and he’s sure Noya has plenty himself. Despite seeming like a very open person, he’s come to notice that Noya is strange, like he’s never quite there most of the time, and the times that he is, he seems so full of life that he’s ready to burst with it.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Noya’s voice is painfully soft.

Asahi’s heart aches. He doesn’t know why that gentle voice hurts, only that it does something strange to him. He catches himself holding his breath, as if even that will break this moment. He knows better. He knows better. He doesn’t know Noya, and Noya doesn’t know him. They’re client and employee, nothing more.

Asahi doesn’t even know himself. How could he even hope to let someone else know him?

“It’s okay,” Asahi gets out, but his voice sounds foreign to himself like it’s coming from someone else speaking in his place instead of him.

Something about the intimacy of the moment makes Asahi feel like he’s an outsider, watching his own hands and fingers tenderly take care of Noya’s newly acquired scratches. He knows there’s more on the man’s face, but he’s scared to raise his gaze. He’s scared that whatever is happening is going to shatter the moment they make eye contact. Asahi is going to realize it’s all in his head, or Noya is going to realize it’s strange for him to be in what is essentially a stranger’s house.

He feels like he knows Noya. The feeling won’t go away, but Noya has told him that he’s sure they’ve never met. Asahi couldn’t forget someone like him, and Asahi is inclined to agree. He’s stalling now, and he knows it, and he’s sure Noya knows it, but neither of them say anything about it as Asahi cleans over the scars a second, and then a third time.

Finally, he bandages the second arm. Noya’s skin is cold beneath his grip, freezing like the other man has been standing in negative temperatures for hours. Asahi knows this isn’t the case, so he assumes Noya must just run cold in comparison to Asahi himself. Noya seems unbothered, either way.

“Thanks,” Noya finally breaks the silence.

Asahi dares to raise his gaze. Noya’s eyes are trained on him, sharp and focused with such intense clarity that Asahi is momentarily taken aback. Noya looks as if he’s a page ahead of Asahi, waiting for him to catch up. Asahi isn’t sure if he should, much less if he wants to.

“Well,” he replies, averting his gaze to get another cotton pad, “I wasn’t just going to leave you after I watched it happen. I don’t mean to be rude, but you seem like you’d neglect taking care of them.”

Noya grins crookedly in the corner of his vision. “You’re right,” he says, “I would. But that’s not all I was thanking you for.”

Asahi pauses, mid-turn, pad raised to start in on the scratches on Noya’s face. He blinks, confused. “Huh?”

“That was for everything,” Noya continues. “I know this case isn’t easy on you. I’m sorry I dumped it on you, but something told me you’re the only one who can handle it, and I always listen to my instinct. It hasn’t steered me wrong yet. So I was saying thank you for putting up with all of this.”

Oh, Asahi thinks, and then says, “Oh.”

Noya laughs. “Oh?”

“Sorry. No, wait. I mean… You don’t need to thank me.” Asahi reaches out, carefully starting to clean the scratches across Noya’s cheek.

“Ow,” Noya says, again.

“Sorry,” Asahi frowns, knowing there isn’t much he can do about the pain.

“It’s okay. I got myself into this, so I’ll tough it out!” The golden-eyed boy declares.

Asahi smiles to himself. Noya’s energy is near contagious, and he’s just about forgotten about his previous anxiety of having the other man in his house. Noya seems nonchalant and uncaring, like he doesn’t care to judge how Asahi lives either way.

“There,” Asahi says, putting bandages over the last few scratches. “Done.”

Noya gives him a double thumbs-up, grinning so widely it looks painful. “Cool! Thanks, Asahi! You’re the best!”

Asahi holds both hands up placatingly. “I wouldn’t go that far…”

“No!” A fire lights in Noya’s eyes, and he reaches out, grabbing both of Asahi’s hands so abruptly that the brunet squeaks. “It’s true! Don’t go selling yourself short, okay?”

Asahi’s voice catches in his throat. He wants to protest again, but Noya’s gaze is so intense that he physically can’t bring himself to do anything more than nod in agreement. It seems to satisfy Noya, so he releases Asahi’s hands and hops up from the couch.

“Alright! I’m gonna head out now, but I’ll see you soon, yeah? We’ll get this done!”

Noya reaches out, bumping Asahi’s shoulder with his fist. The little tap startles Asahi back into reality, and he scrambles to his feet, following Noya to the door and watching him put his shoes on. At the door, they both hesitate. Asahi looks down at his feet, but he can feel Noya’s gaze on him.

“Be safe,” Asahi says, finally.

Noya stares at him for a long moment. Finally, he reaches out, squeezes Asahi’s arm, and then turns away and bolts down the stairs. Asahi watches him jog down the road, and then vanish over the crest of the hill, out of sight, but never out of mind.

Maybe, he considers, he should have tried to make him stay.

Asahi stares at the hill Noya had vanished over for a long moment longer. He stares as if he’s waiting for the other man to turn around and come back, citing that it’s too late to head home, and the trains aren’t running anyway, so it’d take a while on foot. Asahi still doesn’t know if Noya lives nearby or closer to the agency, but either way, he could have thought of something.

He stares on, but Noya doesn’t come back. Finally, Asahi closes the door behind him and flicks the lock.

“You’ve been busy lately,” Kozume remarks, the following Monday, without looking up from his Switch screen.

Asahi doesn’t know how he gets away with playing video games at work so often, but he supposes as long as Kozume is efficient at his job, their boss doesn’t really care. He’s starting to give Asahi some eyes about the case he’s on, so he knows it’s time to hurry up and wrap it up.

Narita comes in, bearing coffee. He hands them out to each of the others in the room, setting Kozume’s next to him and handing Akaashi’s off. Crossing to Asahi, he offers out the coffee.

“Same as usual? How’s it going?” He asks.

Asahi accepts the warm drink from the receptionist. “It’s going,” he sighs, “I haven’t made too much progress outside of some guessed predictions. My sole witness has this habit of up and vanishing and apparently doesn’t have a phone to contact.”

Narita nods sympathetically. “Client isn’t making it easy, huh? This is probably your first one of those, but I see them come through all the time. It’ll work out, so don’t stress too much.”

“He can do with a little stress,” Akaashi comments, taking a sip of his coffee.

Narita turns to give him a withering look and then turns back to Asahi. “Anyway, drink up while it’s warm and then go back into this thing with a fresh mind, yeah? Good luck, Azumane.”

Asahi watches the receptionist go, and takes a long drink of his coffee. It burns his tongue, but he doesn’t flinch away. The moment of pain, however brief, does its part to make everything come into sharper focus. Three days from now, he’ll have been slugging through this case for a month. That’s the time limit he’s going to give himself; if he hasn’t figured this out or made any significant progress in the next few days, he’s going to tell Noya he can’t do it.

Resolution set in his mind, Asahi dives back into his work with renewed vigor.

“Don’t stay too late,” Akaashi says, later that night.

Kozume is already long gone, and Akaashi had finished his work, so he’s getting ready to leave too. It’s just Asahi now, with everyone else out. The black-haired man puts his jacket over his arm and strolls out. Only a moment later, Narita peers in.

“Azumane? Someone is waiting outside for you.”

Asahi glances up, confused. He hadn’t been expecting anybody, but it’s as good a reason as any to change location. He nods in acknowledgment to Narita and hurries to pack his things, pulling his bag over his shoulder and heading out.

Outside, he glances around in search of the person. It takes him a minute to spot them, but when his gaze shifts down, it catches on the streak of blond in Noya’s hair. The other man looks up when Asahi emerges from the building, and then stands immediately when he realizes who it is.

“Noya?” Asahi questions, surprised.

“Hey,” Noya smiles crookedly, “sorry for showing up out of nowhere. I was out and I just ended up here. Are you getting ready to head home?”

Asahi readjusts his bag. “Yeah, I just finished for the night. How did you end up way out here again?”

Noya opens his mouth to answer, and then closes it again, frowning in confusion. Finally, he just shrugs a little, as if he isn’t sure himself.

“I just did,” he says. “Can I walk with you?”

Asahi hesitates, but finally nods in concession. Noya falls into step beside him as he heads out towards the train station. It’s later than Asahi usually leaves, and the streets are nearly empty now. The sun is starting to set beneath the taller buildings in the distance, and Asahi gets the feeling it will be well past dark by the time he gets home.

“Do you live around here, Noya?” Asahi asks, glancing down at the other man.

He recalls seeing Noya back near where he lives, as well, but maybe the shorter man just gets around a lot. This is his chance to finally figure it out, so Asahi seizes it.

Noya hesitates a little, lips parting like he’s going to speak, then closing again. “Uh,” he starts, glancing around, “well-”

Noya cuts off, gaze catching on movement nearby. There’s a girl, no older than seven or eight, stumbling down the sidewalk. Even from this distance, Asahi can see the scrapes on her knees. She’s bawling, rubbing her face with the back of her hands, but steadily making her way down the sidewalk nonetheless, like she’s on a mission.

Asahi exchanges a look with Noya, and they both hurry toward her. Noya reaches her first, crouching in front of her and starting to talk. Asahi is a short pace behind him, catching up just in time to hear the child speak through her tears and sniffling.

“A bad man came into our house,” she sniffles, stuttering around her hiccups, “and Mama told me to run away and get help, but she’s stuck there with him!”

Asahi’s blood goes cold. This is it. The one time he hadn’t been trying to find the man and it practically fell into his lap. Noya is clearly thinking the same thing, expression hard and eyebrows downturned. He meets Asahi’s eyes and nods.

“Hi,” Asahi says, crouching down, “I’m a detective. I can go help your mama, but I need you to tell me which house is yours. Can you do that for me?”

The girl sniffs, looking up at him. “T-The one with the flower mailbox Mama and I painted…”

Noya is already running. Asahi squeezes the girl’s shoulders, getting back to his feet.

“Listen carefully. We’re going to go help your mama, so I need you to be brave for me, okay? Find someone and ask them to call the police for you. We’ll make sure your mom is safe.”

The little girl’s gaze follows him as he runs after Noya. He has no chance of catching up with the spitfire of a man, but Noya waits at the door for him, clearly trying to find a good way in. Asahi glances into the shattered window. The coast seems clear. He gestures to Noya and creeps around to the front door, opening it slowly.

It doesn’t creak, and Asahi thanks any god that exists as he and Noya sneak into the quiet house. Asahi puts a finger to his lips, signaling for Noya to follow him. Together, they quietly round the corner and immediately come face to face with the robber.

They catch the man by surprise. Asahi sees it in the glance he gets of the man’s expression before he’s forced to leap out of the way, bullets riddling the wall where he’d just been standing. To his right, Noya hisses from his spot on the ground, and Asahi has to suppress the nausea that rises in his chest at the sight of red blossoming across Noya’s shoulder.

“Noya,” he gasps, scrambling over, “I’m so sorry. I should have reacted faster. You’re going to need medical attention-” “Asahi,” Noya’s grin edges on pained, but he’s pushing through, nudging Asahi away. “I’m fine. I'm tough, remember? So don’t worry about me. I’ll live, so worry about that kid’s mom first. You bust that guy for the both of us, okay?”

His fingers brush Asahi’s cheek, cold against the skin there, and Asahi’s everything zeroes in on just that sensation. He focuses on the way that Noya’s hand feels against his cheek, electricity at his fingertips. He focuses on the way that regardless of whether he’d known Noya before or not, he knows him now, and he wouldn’t ask for it any other way.

Kissing Noya feels like second nature. He’s careful of the other man’s shoulder, even if it’s nothing more than a brief press of lips, but when he pulls away, Noya exhales like it’s the first breath he’s taken in years.

“Stay safe,” he tells Asahi, “‘cause if you die on me, I’ll summon you back and annoy you as a ghost.”

Asahi laughs. “I won’t. Get somewhere safe, Noya.”

He squeezes Noya’s hand and then hurries into the hallway, keeping low and staying alert. He doesn’t know where the robber is, but the robber doesn’t know his location either. But only one of them has a gun, and it isn’t Asahi, so he’s at a disadvantage here. His priority is getting the woman out safely, but he hasn’t seen her yet, so he’s hoping she’s already hiding somewhere safe. His and Noya’s arrival had distracted the robber for a moment, and he just has to hope the moment is enough if he can’t find her first.

Asahi ducks behind the couch just in time to avoid being seen by the man who creeps in through the next hall. He drops to his hands and knees, sneaking around the side to watch the man’s slow progression towards the kitchen, where he assumes there’s a side door. The man’s gaze sweeps the room once, twice. Asahi creeps forward when his back is turned, and the moment he takes a step to move away, Asahi lunges.

He’s scared. God, he’s terrified. He shouldn’t have made any promises to Noya. He isn’t immortal. If this man gets the upper hand, Asahi knows he has no chance.

But he can’t think about that. Right now, he can only focus on survival, on grappling with the man before him for control over the single gun. The robber’s eyes are wide, wild with disbelief. Asahi can’t figure out what he’s so surprised about; surely, he’d expected someone to come after him eventually for all of this? Asahi pulls and the man resists, They shove and turn and twist, brute strength against brute strength, fighting for control of the situation. A stray shot shatters a vase, and there’s a muffled whimper from the closet next to it.

The woman.

Asahi has the upper hand. It’s only for a moment, but the sound distracts him, and the moment is more than enough. The robber twists around and slams his elbow into Asahi’s face hard enough to send him pinwheeling back into the coffee table, head slamming into the wood hard enough to make his vision go black, and then blurry. The aftermath leaves Asahi feeling like there’s an army in his skull waging war against the bones, pounding relentlessly against his forehead.

It hurts. It hurts. He can’t think. He can barely see straight.

He’s been in this situation before.

When he manages to get his vision to focus, only a little, he is staring down the barrel of the gun. The man’s chest heaves, expression twisted in fury, all bared teeth and vicious stance. And this is it — Asahi has no chance here. This is the end, and his promise to Noya will go unfulfilled after all. He thinks about Noya, laughing loud and free, holding his hand to the sunlight so the golden band on his finger glitters. Except Asahi doesn’t know where he picked up that memory. His head is pounding, a steady thump, thump, thump against his skull. His head is pounding and he is thinking and Azumane Asahi is going to die here and now, just like the man in the case he’d been trying so hard to solve. He can’t even close his eyes, watching the man’s finger on the trigger as if in slow motion.

But it never comes.

Instead, there is Noya, howling bloody murder, all feral motions and vengeful anger, streaking out of the hallway and barreling into the man. They both hit the ground and the gun skids away from them. Asahi’s shaken, but he still notices the lack of red staining Noya’s white t-shirt. Asahi trembles, but he realizes right away that Noya’s wound looks as if it had never existed to begin with. Noya looms over the man like a wraith, teeth bared, golden eyes glittering with a promise, a threat, and Asahi thinks to grab the gun before the man recovers from Noya’s winding attack. The would-be thief writhes beneath the other man, but Noya is unyielding and less hesitant than Asahi.

He takes the flower pot off the table and breaks it over the man’s head, knocking him out cold. Asahi is left in stunned silence, clutching the gun, staring at Noya as he hunches over the unconscious man, shoulders heaving with every breath. Asahi is still concerned; he can’t see Noya’s wound, or any sign of it, but for all he knows, Noya had just managed to find an extra shirt. It’s doubtful and farfetched, but it’s the only possible explanation, isn’t it?

“Asahi,” Noya gasps, “Asahi, are you okay? Did he hurt you? You’re bleeding.” He hadn’t noticed, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off, Asahi touches his head and his hand comes away red. He stares at his fingertips, dizzy, and finally sinks to his knees. Noya scrambles off of the man and barrels right into Asahi, straddling his waist to lean over and inspect Asahi’s head. Outside, sirens wail as their backup arrives, and Asahi sighs, relieved that the little girl had found somewhere safe. The officers come flooding in. Asahi feels like hell, but he’s more worried about making sure everything gets taken care of, so he directs them to the woman hiding, and then to the unconscious robber on the ground. It’s over.

Reaching out to touch Noya’s face, Asahi feels like sobbing. “I’m okay,” he rasps out, “I’m okay. You got shot, though, didn’t you? You shouldn’t do reckless things with a wound like that.”

Noya scrambles back off of him and out of Asahi’s reach before the detective can inspect his previously injured shoulder. He takes a little step aside, gaze averted, frown fixed on his features. Asahi’s eyes follow him as he moves away a little.

“Noya?” He frowns, moving to stand.

One of the officers shouts. Asahi’s attention catches on the shout and his gaze follows, catching sight of the previously unconscious man thrashing on the ground. He’s on his stomach facing Asahi, and one of the officers is straddling his back to cuff him. It’s his expression that catches Asahi’s notice, the sheer rage, face twisted up in hatred. His eyes glitter furiously, lips pulled back to bare his teeth in a snarl.

“You’re supposed to be dead!” He shouts. “You both died! I know I killed you, so why the fuck are you still alive?!”

Asahi’s heart falters in his chest. His head hurts. God, it hurts.

“I robbed you months ago! I shot that boy to death! You were dead! You’re supposed to be dead!”

He keeps shouting it. Asahi is cold to the bone, dropped into an endlessly deep pile of fresh snow with no way out. All he sees is the man’s face, and all he hears is dead and his head hurts so much. He’s supposed to be dead? He’s alive, though. He’s alive, but he doesn’t have memories, and he’s supposed to be dead. What boy had he meant? Noya? Did that mean Asahi had known him before after all? Had they both lost their memories?

Something is screaming in the back of his mind to come out. Asahi clutches his head in his hands, feeling panic swell heavily in his throat, suffocating him. His vision is dark at the edges and the gun is on the floor beside him, just within his gaze.

“Asahi,” Noya croaks behind him, voice soft and pained.

Asahi, it echoes and echoes and echoes, and all at once, everything slams back down. He remembers, and he doesn’t know how he could ever forget. The wedding band burns against the hollow of his throat like a brand. He watches, dumbstruck and breathless, as the robber is hauled out. He remembers who he is. He remembers who Noya is.

“Yuu,” he gasps, whirling around.

But the other man is gone.

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

Asahi hates the smell of hospitals.

The nurse tells him he’s fine to leave, but he needs to come back for another check-up in a week to make sure there isn’t further head or brain damage. The doctors know his memory has returned, so they’re hopeful, but Asahi can’t share their joy. He goes home, empty-handed and desolate. He’s thinking about everything, about Yuu, about the wedding band around his throat. He doesn’t know where the other man had vanished to this time, but he hopes he’d at least had the sense to get medical attention.

And a week goes by.

In the seven days that Nishinoya Yuu is gone, Asahi dreams.

In his dreams, Asahi dies slowly.

His body is a mass of static and there is nothing but pain and pain and more pain. He’s vaguely aware of someone, somewhere, calling his name. Asahi, they’re saying, Asahi, please wake up.

Except this time, he doesn’t. This time, the pieces reconnect themselves. He is not the one in pain, nor is he the one being called out to. In his dreams, Asahi comes home to their shared home and finds Yuu on the floor, riddled with gunshot wounds and already bleeding out. In his dreams, Yuu is unconscious, and Asahi is sobbing, his voice cracking as he tries desperately to call the police.

“Yuu,” he’s begging, “Yuu, please wake up.”

In his dreams, Azumane Asahi does not make it home in time to stop his husband from fighting a robber. Azumane Yuu had fought alone and lost, and by the time Asahi had gotten back, he’d already been half-dead. Asahi hunches over him, pleading with any god that might listen.

He doesn’t know when he got up, only that he’s standing. He doesn’t know when the man appeared around the corner, only that he’s surprised by his appearance, and when they fight, Asahi does not win. He sees the table come into his line of vision.

There’s pain, and then there’s nothing.

Asahi wakes slowly from the darkness as the pieces slide together in his mind. Suddenly, everything makes sense. He hadn’t given the theory any thought before; it’d simply been the most unbelievable thing, but now he’s sure. It all makes too much sense. The name, the vanishing acts, the same outfit all the time, the strange looks Asahi would get when he would bring Yuu up with others, the missing bullet wound in his shoulder.

Yuu is already dead.

Asahi thinks the cold chill of resignation is the hardest part.

When he sits up, Yuu is sitting on the end of his bed. Asahi can see the door through his blood-stained shirt. The sight makes his heart ache anew. How cruel, he thinks, to make him fall in love with this man all over again, only to lose him once more. Had he really ever had Yuu to begin with?

Yuu looks like he had the last night Asahi had seen him as Azumane Yuu, and not Noya. His face is pale and hollow, golden eyes set into his features, a shade duller than Asahi is used to seeing them. His shirt, previously white, is riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood. Asahi is scared to even breathe for the fear of Yuu leaving once and for all.

Yuu doesn’t look at him when he speaks.

“I’m dead.” It’s not a question. Yuu knows this is a fact. “Right?”

“I’m sorry,” Asahi chokes out.

It isn’t enough. This isn’t enough. He has so much more he wants to say to Yuu. He wants to tell him how sorry he is. He wants to tell him that it should have been Asahi who’d died that day. Yuu had so much to live for, and Asahi barely knows how to live for himself. He wants to tell him how much he loves him, how they were supposed to have a whole life ahead of them. Their adventure had only just begun and it had been torn out from beneath them before they could take the first step.

Asahi chokes on his breath. It isn’t fair. It still isn’t fair.

He wants to say, please, don’t leave me again.

Yuu’s form flickers. Asahi covers his mouth to stifle the sob there. Yuu is in front of him now, gaze soft with acceptance. Even in death, he is the stronger of the two of them. Even now, his unwavering dependability makes Asahi feel safe.

“Asahi,” he says, ghostly fingers brushing past the strands of hair by Asahi’s ears, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Asahi manages. “Why are you sorry? Yuu, I’m the one who should be apologizing. If I hadn’t gotten held up that day-”

“Then you would have died too.” Noya cuts him off.

Yuu stares him down, golden eyes piercing, and Asahi falters beneath that gaze.

“Asahi, I’m saying sorry because I promised you forever, but I have to go now. I love you so much, you stupid crybaby. I love you more than anything, and even if we were reborn, I’d find you again in ten thousand lifetimes. It’s always going to be you. You’re the kindest, bravest person I’ve ever known, and I’d do everything the same if it meant I had the chance to love you.” Asahi feels like he’s suffocating in his own words. He wants to grab Yuu and hold him close, but his hands pass right through the other man’s shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do without you,” he sobs, “Yuu, I don’t want to go without you. I don’t know how to socialize properly, and nobody else reminds me to take my meds. I can’t ground myself alone when I have an anxiety attack, and you always know what to say when I have a nightmare. I’m not brave. I let people walk over me when you aren’t there to tell them to lay off. You can’t leave because I don’t know what to do without you. I’m brave when you’re around because you make me feel like I can be.”

Yuu laughs. It’s a strangled half sob.

“Someone as cool as you shouldn’t be such a crybaby. You’re your own person, Asahi. You don’t need me or anyone else, even if you think you do. I’m not the one who makes you brave. You do that. And I need you to be extra brave for me now, okay?” His smile wobbles as he reaches out, hand hovering over Asahi’s cheek. “I need you to be brave enough to live the rest of your life, even if I’m not there to live it with you. I wish I could stay and make you as happy as you made me. I wish we could travel the world and have kids and grow old together. But I’ll always be with you.” And this time, when he reaches to touch Asahi, his palm settles over the ring strung around Asahi’s neck and stays there. The point of contact is warm, pulsing out into Asahi’s chest. He feels like he can breathe again. Asahi is so tired of being scared.

He manages a shaky laugh. “You still have my jacket.” Yuu smiles, something soft that touches the edges of his eyes. “Yeah,” he huffs, “sorry about that.” Asahi covers the hand Yuu has over his chest with his own. “Yuu,” he says, “I love you. I love you so much and I always have, and I’m sorry I never said that enough. I’m sorry that we couldn’t have the life we deserved. But I’ll keep living for you, as long as you promise to wait for me. Find me again in the next life, and the one after that, and the one after that. Please let me fall in love with you again.” A single tear slides down Yuu’s face.

“Always,” he says.

Asahi does not get his coat back, but he feels it like a pit of warmth in his chest when Yuu is gone. He sinks slowly forward, gathering the blanket up in his arms and pressing it to his face in a futile attempt to gather the last bits of Yuu’s presence from the fabric. But he’s gone, and Asahi is alone again, with nothing but the ghost of his memory and a promise. His room is empty and the pit of warmth in his chest is a sorry excuse for Yuu’s presence. He’s alone for now, but he’s going to be brave, and he’s going to find Yuu again in the next life. He may not have him now, but he’s never going to let him go again. He has that.

His fingers close slowly over the ring dangling from his neck, pressing the memories there deep into his chest where they’ll make a home.

(And this, at least.)

#asanoya #azumane asahi #nishinoya yuu #haikyuu #major character death #unreliable narrator #marimo writes #haikyuu!!#marimo give asahi a break challenge

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s-creations · 3 years

Text

Hatching Day

José wished he could say he was prepared to raise children. But his past life and self-doubt leads him to think he's not as ready as he promised he would be.

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: José Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles Additional Tags: Self-Doubt, Depsression, These are minor but still talked about, Hatching, The babies are arriving!

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

Hello there! I will say, as a bit of a warning, maybe(?), that I'm unaware of José's or Panchito's cannon family members or relationships with their family. There's a lot of creative liberties being used in this AU to match what I want to write. This is just a heads up.

Edit on 02/20/2021: I changed a few words and fixed a few sentences. Nothing major.

José was not much of a ‘family’ person. His own was small and very close minded. It was the father’s way, the man of the house ran the show. You kept your mouth shut or you would be on the receiving end of some punishment. José had left as soon as he could, at the age of 16. No matter how much his mother begged or his father threatened. He left them behind and was honestly better for it. At least, that’s what he told himself.

That didn’t mean any relation after this meant much of anything either. They never lasted long. José knew his looks attracted a lot of attention. Parrots were not uncommon. Even more so where he grew up and lived. But his plumage was eye catching and he knew it. Vibrant green was adored and sought after by many. So, while his appearance could draw anyone’s attention in, whatever relationship that could happen fell apart quickly.

Apparently José’s personality wasn’t too pleasing. Once the charisma fell away, people weren’t thrilled with the parrot’s worries or morose outlook on life. They were expecting to have a carefree parrot with vibrant feathers and an equally blinding personality to cling to their arm. Not a burden. Which was something José had heard numerous times. He quickly learned to play the part of the charmer and leave as quickly as possible the next day.

That was how he lived for years.

Until he met Panchito.

The rooster had been drawn in by the bright plumage, just as others before. José, however, was truthfully curious about the overly friendly and energetic bird. One that seemed to have the parrot stay with him while Panchito soaked in the culture. Curiosity turned to a dangerous attachment that José wasn’t prepared for. One he thought was going to eventually fall away when the rooster realized he didn’t want the parrot around. Only to be taken by the hand, allowing Panchito to take him away from Bahia, back to Mexico where the rooster lived.

It was the first time the parrot had experienced someone truly caring for him. Panchito more than patient when José couldn’t carry the suave personality any longer. When he just wanted to hide away and not face the world. Panchito made it clear that he didn’t love the parrot for the facade. He just wanted José. And it was something the parrot struggled with understanding for a while.

Just as he was getting comfortable in their relationship and happily traveled around Mexico with Panchito, they attended a local bar that was playing host to the American Navy. Where they met a duck with an interesting accent, a short fuse, and feathers so white it was blinding in the proper light. The relationship with Donald did start as a friendship. But was something that changed to admiration when he showed how fiercely loyal he was. When, on a night out, a stranger had gotten a little too ‘friendly’ with José. It was an amazing show that only lasted a few seconds. The duck knocked the other down with one hit and was making sure José was okay before anyone could even blink.

It all turned to painful longing when Donald had to leave. As they watched the ship leave shore, José felt his heart breaking. Turning to the rooster to find a similar look of longing on Panchito’s face as well. It was a silent agreement between the two that, if they ever found Donald again, they wouldn’t let him go.

It was a few years later, in a small village in the middle of the jungle, when they found the duck again. Donald seemed to be there with his Great Uncle Scrooge McDuck (the heck!?) and his twin sister Della Duck. The three were there to hunt down some treasure that José doesn’t remember the name of. It didn’t matter as Donald was just as thrilled upon seeing the other two as they were to see him.

That evening was spent hidden in a hotel room. Avoiding the heavy rain and scrutinizing eye of Scrooge as they hung around his nephew. The water falling heavily outside hid the already quiet confessions. Tentative kisses were exchanged before they huddled together on the small bed, falling asleep with smiles on their faces.

José was shocked but extremely happy when Donald told Scrooge the next morning that he was staying with the parrot and rooster. The older duck was not happy with the idea of leaving his nephew with birds he’d had never met before. It could have turned into an all out fight if Della hadn’t saved the day by saying it would be best for Donald to take a break from their normal, adventuring routine. Giving the duck a chance to explore the world in his own way. Let him live his life for once.

If the glare from Scrooge held any indication, he was somehow aware of the budding relationship between the three birds. And was no doubt less than pleased that his nephew was running off with these strangers. But José couldn’t honestly care less. He was with the two people he loved the most in his life and who understood him. The following year and a half was spent traveling the world. Barely a penny to their names, doing performances at hole-in-the-wall bars to make sure they had food and shelter for the night.

It was a time the parrot liked to reflect on when Donald had to leave them.

Their travels came to a halt when Scrooge contacted his nephew. Saying there was one final adventure he needed the duck’s help on. In turn, Donald bargained that he was only going to give up one year to help with this new journey. José still felt a worrying sickness when he and Panchito saw the duck off. Even with the number of times the duck promised he would be back soon. The parrot felt as if there was a dark cloud over the horizon.

One year turned to two. Donald kept in contact as best he could. Saying the final adventure had a number of unforeseen hurdles. Two became three. Now there was talk of Della carrying. Frustration coming from Donald because his sister was still determined to finish this one final adventure.

It was halfway through year three that José felt that storm finally hit. He and Panchito began to worry when Donald hadn’t checked in during his normal time. Which only grew when their calls went unanswered. Leaving message after message with someone named Duckworth in hopes that Donald would get back to them soon. It all came to a worrying conclusion when they found the reason for the sudden silence when they reached out to Fethry in a final, desperate act. Only to be hit in the gut when the scatterbrained duck explained what had been happening.

The spaceship that took years to build and perfect. Della’s sudden pregnancy, which caused an uproar among the Duck/McDuck family as she wouldn’t tell who the father was. While they’d been aware of Della’s determination of this final adventure, José and Panchito felt sick when they learned that she wanted to fly the spaceship. Even when carrying and finally delivering the eggs, it was all she talked about doing. Then she stole the spaceship the adventuring family had been working on for so long in the middle of the night and left.

Just left. No note. No message. Nothing.

José felt a sickening furry slowly build up within. What kind of person just leaves their own unhatched children? This new adventure wasn’t worth it! The parrot was ready to tell Fethry to let them talk to Della, so he could give her a piece of his mind, wondering why she thought a late night cruise among the stars was okay, when they were told she was gone. An unforeseen obstacle bringing her untimely end. Scrooge and Donald were no longer speaking with each other and the younger duck taking over caring for Della’s unhatched eggs.

José and Panchito were on the first flight to American they could get. In less than three months afterwards, they were all married, living in a comfortable apartment, holding well paying jobs, and raising three eggs.

And José was honestly terrified.

He didn’t regret moving, or marrying, or finally settling down. But raising kids? Was he stable enough for that? Donal and Panchito were comforting and supporting when the parrot wasn’t in his best form. But they were aware of what was happening, they were adults. José didn’t have to say anything and they understood. Children were too young to understand why one of their caretakers might be smiling one day and closed off the next.

Would José have the same anger issues like his own father?

He shivered weakly at the thought, his buzzing mind finding relief when Panchito shifted in his sleep. The parrot tensing as he waited for the other to settle back down before relaxing himself. Donald, who was clinging onto the parrot’s back, mumbled weakly as he nuzzled against the green feathered neck. Despite the comfort and warmth, José still could not fall asleep. Eyes wandering back over to the crib where the eggs were resting.

They’d been warned by the doctor that the eggs would be hatching soon. Any day in fact. Donald went on full alert to duckling proof the apartment and having the nursery properly prepped. Panchito had been hit with sudden inspiration, pulling up numerous lullabies and stories he wanted to share when the eggs hatched. And José...started to silently panic.

He shivers again feeling a beak gently preen over the top of his head. Which quieted the spinning thoughts.

“I can hear your busy mind.” Panchito whispered, José hearing the exhaustion in his voice.

“Desculpe querido.”

“What’s wrong?”

José pressed closer. Hands slowly brushing through the red feathers. “...What if they hate me?”

“Who, the eggs? Why would you think that?”

“With my job, I am going to be gone for so many days at a time. Will they forget about me every time? Will I just be the stranger that lives with them? And you know that I am…” He swallowed, burying himself into the crook of Panchito’s neck. “...What if I do not love them? What if it is just a neutral relationship? What am I going to do?”

“Shhh, cálmate mi amor. The fact you’re so worried about this shows me how much you care. You can’t judge on something that hasn’t happened yet. And do you truly think we wouldn’t talk about you when you’re away? They will know so much about you it will be like you never left.”

José sighed softly. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is. Now, calm your head and get some sleep.”

“...Chito? Can you…”

“Of course, get comfortable.”

The parrot did as requested. Moving his head back down to rest properly on Panchito’s chest, Donald settled back down as well. José smiled softly when the beak returned to the top of his head. Smoothing through the feathers as José felt himself finally drift off to sleep.

__________________________

It was two days later when the eggs hatched.

José was watching over them in the living room. Resting on the sofa while the eggs were in a cloth nest on the floor nearby. Donald and Panchito working on cleaning the kitchen after dinner. It was calm. The definition of domestic bliss. Until the parrot heard the first crack.

His eyes instantly snapped over to the bundle of fabric. Scanning over each egg, briefly wondering if he had just imagined the sound. Only to find a small crack forming along the top of an egg. That grew further pronounced as the seconds ticked by.

“Hatching…” José was able to weakly force out, barely above a whisper.

“What’s wrong?” Panchito turned away from the soapy water.

“The eggs are hatching.”

There was the sound of shattering porcelain. Donald had allowed the plate he was supposed to be putting away in the cupboard to slip from his hands. The duck’s eyes wide with shock. “What...did you say?”

José was spared repeating his answer when another crack sounded. Louder this time and followed by small peeps.

“Oh, okay!” Donal turned only to falter over figuring out what he needed to grab first. “Oh Selene, it’s actually happening. Um-”

“¡Cuidadoso! The plate! You don’t want to cut yourself.” Panchito advised, offering a hand to keep Donald balanced as he stepped over the pieces.

“Right, you’re right. Um, we just...we need… What do we need?”

José faltered slightly when the egg cracked again, the frantic sounds coming from the kitchen were not helping his nerves.

“¡Acalme-se!” The two others froze in their spot, eyes traveling over to the parrot. Who was letting out a slow breath. “Alright, pay attention. Donald, get the broom and dusting pan. Clean up the dish then come out here. Panchito, I need clean towels and warm water. Warm. Not hot. If it is so much for you, it will be too much for them. We will need them in order to get them clean and dried. We also need towels to wrap them in once they are cleaned. Once you have that come out here.”

Both nodded before breaking away to complete their given tasks. Still trying to calm his nerves, José sat back down, placing a hand on part of the unbroken shell while he picked away pieces.

“Hey little one, you are doing great. Just keep pushing. You are almost out.” The parrot let out a small noise of glee when a yellow face suddenly broke free from the egg. Feathers slick and matted down, sticking to the pink skin underneath. A small beak ‘peeped’ softly sounding before the duckling started chipping away again. “There you are… They are breaking out, I can see one!”

“We’re here, we’re here.” Donald panted weakly as he set a bowl filled with warm water down with an arm full of clean towels. Panchito sliding into the other side of José, letting out small coos and words of encouragement as they watched.

That's how all three sat. Pressed together as they gave gentle words, the duckling continuously pushing its way out. There was a collective gasp as the egg finally gave way. The duckling falling out and landing on his stomach. Squirming in the blanket nest as they attempted to right themselves. Donald reacted first. Carefully holding the small form up as his free hand dampened a cloth. Wiping gently over the new feathers and clearing the gunk away from the duckling’s eyes.

Once cleared away, the eyes opened to reveal a deep amber color. Looking almost brown in a different light.

There was no time to rest as the next egg began to break free. As it was closer to Panchito, the rooster grabbed his own cloth to prep. It took less time for this duckling to arrive. While the first seemed to be methodical with its freedom, searching for the best way out, this duckling was more determined to break out as fast as possible. In it’s excitement, the duckling flopped out onto his back. Arms and legs moving frantically as it tried to sit back up.

“Aguanta pequeño. You took a bit of a tumble.” Panchito laughed as he cradled the small form close. He cleaned the eyes, both opening to reveal bright blue. The duckling gave a small giggle as they grabbed their feet. “Awww! They’re so eager!”

José laughed softly at the scene before his attention shifted to the final egg. As the seconds passed, worry started to grow. The parrot’s legs eventually started to bounce as they waited. “The color is still good… How long do we wait? Do we even have a small enough tool to help and not hurt them?”

Panchito gave a smile and gently preened José’s neck. “It’s only. We just need to be patient. Let them figure it out.”

That didn’t calm José in the slightest. It was a few more tense moments before the first crack formed. Even then, all three were on edge and it took longer for the first section shell to break away. With a break in the egg, the duckling still seemed to be struggling. Being cautious, the parrot reached forward to help break more away.

“José…” Donald’s tone held worry and a warning.

“I think they need help. If a duckling is unable to break free on their own, parents or guardians are allowed to help.” The parrot argued back, continuing his work. A small form flopped into the parrot’s open hand soon, giving a small peep of confusion as they clung onto the parrot’s feathers. Grabbing his own cloth, José continued to speak calmly as he could while cleaning the residue off.

Eyes of forest green were soon looking up at José. Head tilting as the duckling seemed to be determining what exactly the parrot was. “Someone appears to be the curious type.”

The parrot flinched slightly when a cream colored blanket entered his field of vision. Donald gave a smile before shaking the blanket again. Giving a nod of thanks, José took it and easily swaddled the duckling.

“That was skillfully handled.” The duck casually commented.

“I have watched a lot of videos about this. Covered as much information I possibly could. Even asked some of the mother flight attendance for advice. I...I just didn’t know what to expect.” José flushed softly when a kiss was placed on his cheek. Turning to look at Donald, who smiled back.

“I knew you were ready for this. You were worried for nothing.”

The parrot huffed as his cheeks darkened. Feathers ruffled when he stared down a sheepish looking Panchito. “Did you tell Donald.”

“If it keeps you up at night, then it’s an issue we all need to be aware of!”

José’s retort was cut short when a disgruntled peeping sound was heard. The duckling in his arms had their face screwed up, legs kicking as best they could in the swaddle. “Oh, they...they are hungry.”

“I’ll get the bottles.” Donald easily passed his duckling over to the parrot before standing and heading to the kitchen.

Own duckling finally calming down, Panchito carefully closer to the parrot. He and José leaned against each other as they admired the small bundles they held. The first was in a state of just about to fall asleep. The middle was still wiggling around, but was thankfully staying in the swaddle. The third was still, eyes cautiously looking around as if trying to assess the situation. José marveled at how young they were and how their personalities were already coming through.

His heart swelled with absolutely adoration with every second that passed. Bending down to carefully move his beak through the fluffy yellow feathers. The green eyed triplet chirped, giving a wobbly smile as José pulled away. The parrot felt himself just melt. He was so unbelievably happy at that moment.

“We need names.” Panchito suddenly said.

...Aw phooey.

#Donald Duck #Jose Carioca #Panchito Pistoles #jose carioca/donald duck/panchio pistoles #The Three Caballeros #the three gay caballeros #s-creations

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friendship-ended-with-pokespe · 3 years

Text

Kirby: Meta Knight and the Strongest Warrior in the Galaxy Chapter 1

Waddle Dee is waddling along the busy main street. He is waddling because he is carrying loads of bundles with both arms. Walking in front of Waddle Dee is King Dedede. The king looked to be in good humor and said.

“Next up, we’ll go to the boutique at the fountain square! Looks like the sparkling sequin suit that went on sale recently is super trendy. I’m not really swayed by trends, you know, but I bet the shopkeeper will be moved if I at least try it on. This too is my responsibility as a king!” “Y-Your Majesty......” Waddle Dee let out a voice in agony. “I can’t hold any more loads......let’s save the suit for next time......” “What? Waddle Dee, are you tired out from that little luggage? How sloppy you are! And you call yourself my underling!?” “I’m sorr......” “I’m bored of shopping! Let’s take a short break!” Kirby was the one to cut Waddle Dee off and shout. Kirby is carrying large loads just like Waddle Dee. Halting, King Dedede turned around and gave Kirby the fish eye. “......Why did you have to cling to me on my delightful day off?” “I’m not clinging! I only came to play!” Kirby became sulky. They’re in a shopping mall that opened recently at only a short distance from Dream Land. Stylish boutiques and cafes are lined up, facing large avenues and plazas. Kirby who happened to came to hang out ended up meeting King Dedede who also happened to do the same. Attending the king is Waddle Dee. Feeling sorry for Waddle Dee who was carrying several large loads, Kirby decided to carry the half for him. Nevertheless, King Dedede tries to continue shopping. “Hmph, what a drag......is what I want to say, but even I’m a bit tired from all the walking.” Looking around, he caught sight of a lovely café with a yellow signboard put up. “Okay, how about we eat some cakes there!” The king began running at once. Kirby’s eyes lit up once he heard cake. “Wha, cake!? I want some, I want some! Next, I want parfait, pancake, macaron, pizza, pasta, Hayashi rice, and, and......” As he pondered, Kirby began running with a force that wouldn’t be overtaken by King Dedede. “Hang on, Kirby!” Waddle Dee waddled after the two as well.

The minute they took a seat, Kirby and Dedede ordered all items on the menu and wolfed them down before ten minutes had passed. “Mmm, that was yummy~! I want seconds for cupcakes!” “More pancakes for me! Bring me ten servings!” “Y-Yes, here you go......” An employee jotted down their orders as he recoiled at the pair’s appetite. Waddle Dee was quietly eating a parfait, but suddenly took notice of a poster pasted on the wall. “The Legendary Strongest in the Galaxy......Galacta Knight sighted......?” King Dedede asked Waddle Dee reading out the words on the poster. “What’d you say? What about Galacta Knight?” “E-Erm, on the poster it says......” He looks at where Waddle Dee was pointing, where a flashy poster is attached indeed.

It’s an illustration of a knight wearing a sparkling mask. A title stating “The Legendary Strongest in the Galaxy, Galacta Knight sighted!” is written in large letters. “What is that?” To King Dedede who was puzzled, the employee explained. “Ah, that’s a movie poster, sir. It's a huge hit right now.” “A movie? Hmph, how lame.” The king turned away, but Kirby showed interest. “A movie? What's the story about?” The employee answered Kirby’s question. “It’s about how that famed Galacta Knight is unsealed and rampages. It’s a blockbuster filled with action and romance, and plenty of big stars make an appearance.” “Hmmm......?” It doesn’t appeal to Kirby. His eyes were blinking, where King Dedede then said. “Kirby, are you telling me that you don’t know Galacta Knight?” “Uh-huh. I don’t......” “Haha! There’s a limit to how ignorant you can be. Galacta Knight is a legendary knight renowned for his absurd strength. He’s incredibly powerful, where destroying a star’s a piece of cake for him.” “Wha......!” Kirby was astonished. It’s uncommon for King Dedede to praise someone this straightforwardly. “Have you met him before, King Dedede?” “Like heck I did. Galacta Knight is gone from this world.” “Huh? What’d you mean?” “He was alive a long, long time ago. He was so powerful that he ended up being sealed.” “He was......sealed?” “Can’t say. I don’t know the details, but he must’ve had powers taken and became unable to move. As of now, no one knows where or how he became sealed......” About to say something, King Dedede suddenly remembered something and corrected himself. “Wait, come to think of it, there is one person that met him before.” “Huh? Who!?” “Meta Knight.” Kirby and Waddle Dee were both wide-eyed from hearing such an unexpected name. “Meta Knight? How? Galacta Knight was sealed a long time ago, wasn’t he?” “I wonder how?” “I don’t know. I only listened in on his lackeys bragging about it. Meta Knight cut them off right away, where it looks like that guy doesn’t want others to know about it. That’s why I don’t know the details.” “He must’ve called Galacta Knight and did something to him, huh.” Kirby and Waddle Dee exchanged looks and thought. “Erm......maybe they had some snacks together......” “Hmm......or he shared stories of long ago......” King Dedede scoffed at them. “You chumps know nothing, eh? I don’t know about y'all, but do you really think he’d be that easygoing?” “Then what do you think, King Dedede?” “He unsealed the strongest warrior in the galaxy on purpose, and called him into this world! Only for one purpose!” King Dedede continued in full confidence. “To get a signature from him!” “......What. You wouldn't say.” Kirby had a doubtful look. Waddle Dee said. “Erm, there’s one thing I’m not sure of, sire......” “What is it? Ask away, I’ll answer it.” “Is Galacta Knight sealed even as of right now? “Of course, duh. That guy’s monstrously powerful, where destroying a star is a child’s play for him. It would mean trouble if he isn’t sealed.” “So that means he restored the seal that he removed, right? Lord Meta Knight sealed him, didn’t he?” “......Hm?” It was a good question. King Dedede cocked his head to one side. “Hmm......it sounds fishy if you think about it. I wouldn’t think that Galacta Knight would sit still and get sealed, and a mayhem would’ve happened instead......” The three pondered, but just then, the ten servings of pancakes that he ordered were brought. The king licked his lips with his large tongue. “Oooh, smells great. Ten servings ain’t enough. Bring me thirty servings next!” Kirby too leaped at the cupcakes that were brought out. “I want thirds as well! I’ll add fifty servings of cupcakes~!” Kirby, King Dedede, and Waddle Dee were all enjoying their dessert and forgot all about Galacta Knight-but,

A customer that was sitting behind the three stood up quietly from his seat. His large hat is pulled over his eyes. His eyes concealed by his hat were shining with greed. “Meta Knight......eh? I see, what a great info.” Chuckling, the customer grabbed his chit and left his seat.

“The Legendary Strongest in the Galaxy, Galacta Knight sighted......” “Sounds interesting. I wanna go and see it!” In the lobby of the Battleship Halberd, all the Meta Knights are surrounding the movie flyer and are chattering. Sword Knight spoke to the excited Meta Knights in an apathetic manner.

“Isn't a movie basically a made-up story? It lacks impressiveness, since it’s not like the real Galacta Knight would appear.” Right as they were getting fired up, the Meta Knights were thrown cold waters on them and became sullen. Trident Knight, one of their member said. “That’s not true. It’s deemed to be a masterpiece that brings the whole galaxy to tears!” “Hmph, no way. Isn’t that just an advertising slogan?” Sword Knight laughed at them. His partner Blade Knight added. “They can’t bring out the real impressiveness no matter what the celebrity is and what special technique he uses. After all, Galacta Knight is the absolute strongest warrior of legends!” Hearing that, Mace Knight talked back. “But he lived way back then! He’s gone now!” “No, he’s not dead. He should still be sealed somewhere even as of now.” The Meta Knights exchanged looks and said in unison. “So you’re saying that......he’s alive somewhere?” “Can you really say that being sealed is being alive?” “No, he’s probably still alive since he was only sealed. He’ll be brought in no time if there’s a way to remove the seal.” “But he was sealed a long time ago, right? There wouldn’t be anyone that knows how to remove it by now......” “Ahem!” A loud cough resounded as if to cut off everyone’s discussion. The combatants of Halberd turned around. Standing and giving himself airs was Captain Vul, the person in charge of this ship. Javelin Knight said. “What is it, sir? Do you want to say something, Captain Vul?” “Not quite......it’s just that I can't stand you fellas being so ignorant of Galacta Knight.” “What do you mean?” “Galacta Knight is indeed a legendary knight who was sealed ages ago. Somehow did unseal him, however. Only one in this world!” Captain Vul threw out his chest with pride. Looking at each other’s faces, the Meta Knights said all at once. “Unsealed him!? He brought back Galacta Knight!?” “But Galacta Knight was sealed due to the dangers of being too powerful. Wouldn’t disaster befall were he to be unsealed......” “Who was it!? Who unsealed him!?” Captain Vul smiled boastfully and said. “You lads know nothing. Don’t be too surprised, the one and only to have unsealed Galacta Knight is......!” However, a voice reverberated, interrupting Captain Vul declaring his name. “It’s an emergency call, sir!” It’s Axe Knight who was left out of everyone’s circle and was at work diligently. Axe Knight is in charge of the Battleship Halberd’s communications. “A small spaceship is approaching us. It’s transmitting messages toward here!” “What? Is it an enemy ship?” “No, it doesn’t look like it. The contents of the message seem to be......“Good day to everyone aboard the Halberd! You can call me Moa. I’m a big fan of Lord Meta Knight. I wish to become his man. I ask of you all.”” “......What?” Captain Vul was bewildered. Various messages from all across the galaxy are sent to Halberd, but something like this is the first time. “You can’t just say that you want to be his man suddenly......we’re not recruiting subordinates right now. Turn him down.” “I’d feel sorry for him, captain.” Blade Knight opposed him. “With how he admires our lord, how about we at least interview him?” “He’s right. We can turn him down once we meet him and see that he’s not fit to be his subordinate.” “That brings me back. The day when I first became his man......” Said Javelin Knight reminiscently. “I rushed out of my birthplace in admiration of Lord Meta Knight. I was so nervous that I forgot even my own name, but my lord said: “Your mastery of javelin can be relied on” to me!” “It was the same case for me.” “Me too!” Said the Meta Knights in unison, and began talking about each of their memories all at once. Captain Vul was the one to stop them. “Quiet down now. You can talk all about your recollections later. Let’s go and meet that subordinate applicant at any rate. Axe Knight, send him a response.” “Roger that!” Turning back to the control panel, Axe Knight sent back a message to the small spaceship standing by closely.

Boarding the Halberd was a boy with a lanky body, a round face, and curly hair.

“ Great to see you, everyone. You can call me Moa!” Moa looked at the Halberd’s crew with his eyes sparkling. Captain Vul said solemnly with a captain-like dignity. “I am Captain Vul, the one in charge of Halberd. I traverse the galaxy as the right-hand man of Lord Meta Knight.” “Y-Yes. It’s an honor to meet you, sir!” Moa’s cheeks turned bright red like he was touched. The Meta Knights exchanged whispers behind Captain Vul. (He’s still a child, isn’t he?) (He's a million years too early to be his subordinate.) (We’ll have to tell him to come back after he’s a bit older) Blade Knight stepped forward. “So you want to be Lord Meta Knight’s subordinate, but,” “Yes! I’ve longed for it all this time!” “If you haven’t noticed, the Halberd’s crew are nothing but the cream of the crops. You can’t be his man only from admiration.” “I know that, sir. I have honed my sword skills as well.” “......Oh?” Hearing that, the Meta Knights were stirred up. (Honed! Isn’t he talking like an adult?) (Maybe he is really strong......) (Nah. He’s such a small kid.) (We can’t say that for sure. Not long ago, I read a manga where a frail-looking kid is actually the master of the sword!) “-Very well.” Captain Vul said. “We’ll carry out your test then. Show me your sword skill, Moa. Is there anyone that would like to be his opponent?” The Meta Knights couldn’t say anything for a moment. It would be a huge shame in the unlikely event that they lose to this child. They would be of no need in the Halberd. Within the silence, Sword Knight who is self-confident stepped up. “Ok, I’ll be your opponent.” “Sword Knight, your opponent is a child. Don’t go too serious on him.” “I know that. I can’t be careless in order to see his capability. I’ll go easy on him, but I won’t take him lightly.” “Good. We’ll then carry out the test match between Sword Knight and Moa. You’ll use swords for practice, not real ones.” The preparations were completed without delay. With their swords for practice in hand, Sword Knight and Moa were facing each other in the center of the wide lobby Everyone who was surrounding them whispered to each other. (That boy’s stance is pretty good, isn’t it?) (He might actually be a prodigy in swordsmanship!) (But there’s no way that Sword Knight would lose.) As everyone watched with their breath held: Sword Knight made the first move. “Haaa!” Together with a sharp cry, he slashes at the boy. “WAHHHHH!” Moa dropped his sword and sank down on the spot. He lowers his face and is trembling. Sword Knight almost swung his sword down on his head, where he pulled his sword back in a hurry. “What’s with that attitude!? This is a match. Act seriously!” “I-I’m sorry. It felt so intense that......” Moa gripped his sword again in shame. Sword Knight slashes at him once again. With his speed quite reduced than before. “Yaa!” He raised his sword slowly, where Moa then readied his sword as he faltered and let out a pathetic voice. “T-T-Taa......!” “Let’s go! Have a taste of this attack!” Sword Knight goes as easy as he can and strikes down gently. His eyes shut, Moa held his sword over his head as he trembled. The sword that Sword Knight struck landed with a low clang. It was a mere light attack, and yet Moa’s sword dropped from his hands. “Ugh......the match has been decided.” Captain Vul said with a displeased look. “It's a shame, Moa, but you simply cannot be a member of Halberd with that skill of yours.” The Meta Knights also said with a slightly relieved look. “What, he’s all bark and no bite. That was such a let-down.” “He still lacks training.” “He should train again and come back ten year later.” Moa rubbed his eyes welling up with tears as he trembled in frustration. “T-That can’t be......but it went much better when I practiced in my house......” “What practice did you do?” “I asked my dad to buy me “Swordsmanship Instruction Set Where Even You Can Become Strong in a Week”......” Hearing him, starting with Captain Vul, the elites all burst into laughter. “What, that’s just a toy!” “You were trying to become strong with a toy swordsmanship set? You can only be so naïve.” “This makes no sense. You should return at once and go to a swordsmanship dojo.” “I don’t want to return, sir!” Insisted Moa, his large eyes full of tears. “I left my house in admiration of Lord Meta Knight! I can’t return like this!” “Even if you say that, you get it, don’t you? In no way can you be his subordinate......” “I know that my own strength is lacking. But I want to become his man. I’ll do anything, clean the floor or wash the dishes. Please let me ride in the Halberd!” Moa rubs his forehead on the floor and pleads. Starting with Captain Vul, everyone became troubled. “Just because you say that......” “I feel pity for him, but......” “The Battleship Halberd is no such pushover.” It was at that moment. The door of the lobby opened quietly and Meta Knight showed up. “Ah, my liege.” Everyone straightened themselves. Moa also rose up in a hurry and saluted like everyone. “What happened? So noisy.” “Yes, sir. You see......” Captain Vul explained. In the meanwhile, Moa became bright red and was fidgeting. “......So we tried testing him, sir. But he’s of no use.” “I see. Then he should leave.” Said Meta Knight shortly, and turning his cape, he was about to go out the door a second time. Moa said with a desperate look. “I beg you, sir. Please let me join as one of your men!” “......” “My strength may be lacking, but I’ll do anything. Sweeping, laundry, anything......” “I have enough hands. I have no intention of having someone with no fighting capability on board.” Meta Knight tried to walk away, but Moa raised his voice more and more. “I beg you sir, please! I want to become strong! I want to become a strong swordsman like you, sir!” “You’re so persistent. Give it up.” Said Blade Knight in a fed up manner, and held Moa up by the scruff of the neck. “Please, sir! I’ll do anything! I beg you......!” Seeing Moa crying and yelling, Captain Vul cleared his throat. “Ah......my lord, this lad may not be of use, but how about we apprentice him?” “......” “We may have enough hands for now, but it’d be troublesome if someone were to catch a cold. We do need someone to fill in for that supposed time.” Meta Knight didn’t answer, his back turned on him. Moa is sobbing, where their hearts were moved by his face.

“Captain Vul is right, sir. We could rest easy if someone can fill in!” “He’s lacking in swordsmanship, but he might amount to something were we to teach him......” They were all overwhelmed with emotion, thinking back to when they were a rookie. Meta Knight said curtly. “......I couldn't care less. Captain Vul, I’ll leave it to you in dealing with this one.” “Aye, aye, sir.” Meta Knight left, and the Meta Knights surrounded Moa. “Good news. You’ll be part of the Halberd from today onward.” “But you’re only an apprentice. Don’t lose focus.” “Yes, sir! Thank you so much!” “We’ll give you sword lessons. The lesson will be harsh, but you better not whine about it.” “Yes, sir! I’ll do my very best!” Overcome with emotion, the boy Moa bowed his head deeply.

Next chapter

Table of contents

#kirby novels #kirby of the stars #light novel #translation #kirby #meta knight #king dedede #waddle dee #galacta knight #captain vul #meta knights #sword knight #blade knight

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walkerwords · 4 years

Text

“A Sense of Time” Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

GIF CREDIT: me with footage from AMC

Summary: Six years after Rick Grimes disappeared, Daryl is still out in the woods looking for him. One day he and Dog come across you and offer you some food. Sometimes all a person needs is a little human conversation to point them home.

Word Count: 3507

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Nobody Knows” by The Lumineers

Note: This is just a short little thing I had written in my book. I like to think that Daryl visited his niece and nephew a lot, but sometimes needed a bit of a reminder. I think he also just needs a little human interaction every once in a while. Not a ship post, just a little conversation. Thanks for reading!

-----

Daryl Dixon had gotten used to the solitude the woods provided.

He had set out shortly after the bridge was blown out, determined to find his brother. He didn’t know if he would be able to find Rick Grimes alive, dead, or as a Walker. All he did know was that he needed to bring him home for all of them, but especially for Michonne, Judith, and RJ, the son Rick never knew.

Six years he searched and after a while, it was just easier to stay away. Daryl still made the occasional trip to Hilltop for supplies and to check-in with Tara and Jesus. He knew he should go to Alexandria more. He knew Judith asked about him, RJ too, but he couldn’t face Michonne. After what happened with Jocelyn, the same weight bore down on both of them and if he couldn’t bring Rick back to her, he didn’t want to see her.

It was mostly guilt on his part, even though he knew Rick had made the decision to stop the herd and protect the communities. He tried to save what they had all built together. Daryl couldn’t imagine what Rick would say if he knew how distant they all were now.

Maggie was gone, Alexandria was closed, Tara and Jesus rarely spoke to others, the Kingdom was falling apart, and Daryl wasn’t even sure what was happening over at Oceanside. Everything that Carl and Rick had wanted was now tearing at the seams, but Daryl knew it was going to happen. Nothing had been the same without either Grimes and everybody knew it. Hell, he figured even Negan knew it and the man was under lock and key.

But regardless, the world had to keep going.

Daryl walked through the woods, Dog at his side. He was on his way back to his makeshift camp after checking the traps when he heard a commotion coming through the trees.

Unsheathing his knives, Daryl moved silently. Dog kept right behind him, ready to move on his master’s command. The two had been hunting together for a while now and if Daryl couldn’t detect something sneaking up on them, Dog definitely could.

Daryl moved closer to the noise. He identified it as fighting immediately. He rushed ahead, hoping it wasn’t anyone he knew. The last thing he needed was one of his family members getting attacked or bit while looking for him in the dense forest.

Coming up to a clearing, Daryl paused just inside the tree line and watched the scene before him. About ten or so Walkers were converging on a small form in the center of the small field. Just as he was about to take his bow from his shoulder, the Dead began dropping and he finally caught sight of you.

Armed with a machete, you swung it in perfect arcs, cutting through the Dead like they were nothing. At this point in the Apocalypse, unless they were fresh, the Roamers, as you called them, were pretty much as brittle as sand. It didn’t take much force to take them out.

It was nearly second nature to kill them. You swung and swung, keeping light on your feet as you were taught. Heads toppled to the ground and eventually, all that remained was a single Roamer that limped on a bony stump. Twirling your blade around in your hand, you circled it. It lunged at you, but you easily stepped out of the way.

“Here, boy,” you taunted with a whistle. You could only imagine what your grandmother would say if she saw you playing with the Dead, but you had been alone for almost two years now and you needed a little bit of fun, even though it was a tad sadistic.

The Roamer snapped its jaws at you and soon you got bored. With a sigh, you swung your blade and took off its head, stopping the brain with your boot. Looking around at all the corpses, you got to work. You never understood why your grandmother had taught you to pile them up, but you always did it.

You thought it might be because it reminded her of a funeral pyre, just without the actual flames. Only a few times did you actually light them and that was when they were people you knew. Now it was too much of a risk to do so. It could not only attract more of the Dead but the Living too and that was the last thing you wanted.

As you dragged the Roamers into the center of the clearing, two pairs of eyes watched on from the trees. Daryl was wary of you, but something told him that you were just a nomad. It wasn’t uncommon for the lone traveler to come through the woods. Most people had the same idea: head to the Capital. Not that there was much left of Washington, D.C., but people still had hope.

Dog sat by his side, leaning slightly against him. Daryl reached down and scratched the dog’s head. He watched as you piled up the bodies and then started to go through the pockets of the Dead. He knew a few people, both living and dead that would disagree with looting a corpse, but he himself had done it more times than he could count. It was a basic survival skill these days and if you were alone, it could save your life.

You moved through the pile, looking for anything you could use. You found a new knife, an old book of matches, a bottle opener on a set of keys, and even a few bandannas you could use while walking through the more less-desirable areas. You grabbed it all and placed it in your backpack.

Pulling out your water bottle, you took a long pull and then poured some on your head, relishing in the cool feeling of the Virginia heat. You then climbed on top of the pile and sat, watching your surroundings as you took a break. This was something else your grandmother would slap you for, but you knew there was one thing that kept the Dead away and that was the smell of more Dead.

The horrific stench of the Roamers had become an odd comfort for you. It made you more at ease while sleeping and if you were being honest, you started to feel more comfortable around them than you did people. The new world was doing strange things to you and at this point, you were happy to let it.

Soon enough, though, you had to move on. Sliding off the pile, you grabbed your bag, sheathed your machete, and began moving towards the trees. The sun was going to start going down soon and you would need to keep moving if you were going to make it through the thick forest.

You headed towards the river, thinking it would be the easiest landmark to follow. The last thing you needed was to get lost in the middle of Virginia. With everything so overgrown and signs weathered, it was hard to even know what state you were in, let alone the city. Then there was the matter of direction. Grandma may have been all about free spirits and honoring the dead, but never once did she teach you how to find your way without a map.

“Thanks, grandma,” you grumbled as you jumped over a rotted tree. A rustling sound came from your right and your hand went to your machete, but you relaxed when you saw four legs, two tall ears, a tail, and a black nose. “This day just keeps getting more interesting,” you said to the dog that approached you.

The dog growled at you, showing its sharp canines. You put your hands on your hips and scowled at the creature. “Alright, boy,” you said, “normally I would kill any animal I came across, but you…” you trailed off, tilting your head, “I never thought I’d see a domestic dog like you, let alone one that wasn’t all ribs and feral teeth.” You reached out your hand when the dog barked and you jumped back.

“Okay, not too trusting,” you said, “I get that. How about this? I go my way and you go yours and I don’t have to kill you. How’s that sound?” You asked and the damn dog growled back.

“Dog!” You startled at the voice, cursing. The dog looped back towards a tree where a man stepped out from behind. This time, you hung onto the hilt of the machete as you took in the stranger. He was taller than you with long hair and scruffy facial hair that was half-hidden by a hood. Along his back was a large crossbow and you knew a man like that had to have more weapons on him.

When he moved closer to you, took another step back, tripping slightly. He put his hands up. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya, girl,” he said slowly. You watched as he kept his distance, but got close enough to where you could see him a bit better. He pulled down his hood and shook out his hair a bit.

“What do you want?” You asked, keeping an eye on his hands.

“Yer the one walkin’ into my camp,” he pointed out. He nodded behind him and just through the trees you could see a fire pit, tent, and what looked like some hand-carved spears.

“Please tell me you’re not some psycho who strings people up in trees,” you said, grimacing. The man raised a brow and shook his head slowly.

“What kind of company you keep?” He asked, but you figured it was more of a rhetorical question. Your gaze gifted back to the dog at the stranger’s side.

“He yours?” You asked. The man nodded. He then picked up a stick and held it aloft.

“Dog, go!” He yelled, throwing the stick back towards camp. The canine took off at full speed, happily barking after his prize.

“You named the dog, Dog?” You asked. The stranger shrugged.

“Didn’t know his name,” he rationalized. You pursed your lips, rocking awkwardly on your heels.

“So if you’re not gonna hang me from a tree or let your dog take a bite…” you trailed off, pointing over your shoulder.

“Where ya headed?” He asked.

“I’m lookin’ for someone. Figured I would head downriver. Guess I’ll find out one way or another.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, chewing on the side of his thumb. “Ya hungry?” He asked. You hesitated. “Just fish, girl, ain’t gonna be anything special.” You thought about it for a moment before nodding. He jerked his head towards camp and you followed.

“The name’s (Y/N), by the way, not ‘girl’,” you said, catching up to him.

“Daryl,” he responded.

“Nice to meet ya, Daryl,” you acknowledged. He grunted in response causing you to chuckle. Daryl lead you back to his camp and as he got to work on cleaning the fish he had caught earlier, you took a turn about the area.

Everything from the tent to the small weapons area screamed survivor. You could tell that he had been out there long, but he also knew how to live within the trees. These were the kind of people you liked. The ones that knew what they were doing and just lived rather than trying to hunt the weak or take advantage of other people. Daryl seemed like good one. He also didn’t seem scared of living out and around the Dead. “Get many Dead ones, ‘round here?” You asked. He looked at you.

“Got traps set up,” he said, slicing open the fish next to a fire he began to stoke. “Dog keeps ‘em away.”

“Bet he does,” you said, smiling fondly at the mutt as he chewed happily on the stick Daryl had given him. Sitting down by the fire, you let your joints feel proper heat for the first time in weeks. You watched Daryl work on your dinner for a while, watching as he used his knives. Just by the way he cooked, you knew he was a skilled fighter.

“Where ya comin’ from?” Daryl asked suddenly. Leaning back against one of the stumps, you sighed.

“Kind of everywhere,” you said, “I was using the highways, you know, trying to keep some sort of route. Then I kept running into trouble so I headed into the woods.”

“What kind of trouble?” He asked, his brow furrowed.

“Just the occasional asshole who thinks I’m an easy target. A lot of people out there lookin’ to steal, kill, etc. Figured I’d be safer out here considering most people don’t risk entering the trees, fear of the Dead, and all that.”

“Smart people,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his lips.

“What does that make us?” You asked.

“Used to it,” he said in a low voice.

“Used to what?”

“The fucked up world,” he said simply.

“That is the most accurate thing I have heard in weeks, Daryl,” you said, raising your imaginary glass. Daryl shook his head and went back to cooking the food. “Are there many people around? I’d rather not have to go deeper into the woods.”

“There are people,” he said, serving up a piece of fish to you in a metal dish. “A couple of communities. But they’re good people, won’t mess with ya if yer friendly.” You snorted at that.

“If they’re anything like the last community I ran across, I’ll make sure to keep out of their line of sight before they try to make me a full course meal and offer me five-star stay,” you said, remembering the young boy you met not that long ago.

“Where was that?” Daryl asked.

“A couple of days walk from here,” you said, “that way.” You pointed over your shoulder. “There was this kid, he was out in the woods around the walls. I was looking for water and we ran into each other.” You laughed at the memory. “Kid nearly knocked me on my ass with that stick of his. Thought I was an intruder or something. Anyways, he invited me back to his ‘Kingdom’, but I had to move on. The whole walls and leader thing isn’t really for me.” You finished and went back to your dinner, but Daryl had paused. “What?” You asked as he stared at you.

“Ya were at the Kingdom?” He asked.

“Wait, that’s the actual name?” You laughed, “okay then I owe stick-boy an apology. I thought he was just screwin’ with me.”

“Nah, it’s a real place. Run by two good people. The kid with the stick is their son.”

“You know them?” Daryl nodded. “Well, next time you see them, tell them a passing traveler thinks their kid is a total badass.” This got a small smile from Daryl.

“Why don’t ya like walls?”

“Why don’t you?” you asked, turning it back on him.

“Never said I didn’t,” he said with a challenging look. You raised your hands in surrender.

“I just prefer to not be locked down, I guess,” you finally answered. “Easier that way.”

“Ya lost somebody?” he asked, guessing by the tone of your voice.

“My whole group, actually,” you said. “I was on watch in a tree one night and I didn’t hear the Roamers enter the camp. I was so tired and I…” you sighed again, picking at the fish. “Anyways, they all died, including my grandmother, and I had to move on.”

“Sorry ‘bout yer people,” he said.

“Thanks.” It was quiet after that. You didn’t know if bringing up your dead family was a good idea, but then again, Daryl was a complete stranger. Who cared what he knew. You weren’t going to see him again anyways. “You got family besides the mutt?” you asked. Daryl leaned back on his forearms, kicking rocks into the fire. He nodded.

“They’re around,” he said and then paused as if he was unsure about sharing more. You waited patiently. Finally, he turned his face towards the rickety boat that sat on the water’s edge. “Got a niece and nephew too. Good kids.” It was subtle, but when he mentioned them, you could see a light in his eyes even when they were slightly turned away from you. They clearly meant a lot to him.

“Kids,” you said, “they grow up so fast. Don’t wait too long to see them again.” Daryl looked back at you and nodded. You hoped that was taking your words to heart. “Besides, maybe they can convince you to cut that thing on your head.” Daryl raised his eyebrows at you.

“Ya know me for all of an hour and yer judgin’,” he said, messing with his long hair.

“Once you share a dirty fish with someone, they instantly become your friend. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“Who made that rule?” he asked.

“I don’t know, probably Aristotle or George Bush. Who cares? It’s gospel now.” You popped another piece of fish into your mouth and licked your fingers.

“What did you do before the Turn?” he asked after a moment.

“High school,” you said, finishing your food. “Imagine that. One day I was sitting in Calculus class and the next thing I know my teacher is stumbling through the room trying to eat the assistant principal.” Daryl whistled low at that.

“Yer folks?”

“Both out of the country when the outbreak began. They were pilots. Dad was in China and Mom was in South Africa. Not sure what happened to them. Gran pretty much raised me so I stuck with her for as long as possible. Then, well, you know,” you said, referring back to the other story.

“Ya don’t seem to carry the weight of their deaths,” Daryl observed, handing you a cup of water. You placed the metal mug in your hands, watching the flames flicker in the dark.

“Don’t really have the time, you know? Can’t think about it. The way I see it, the world killed them as it died. Nobody’s fault, just the way it is now.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” he said, sitting all the way up. “Kingdom isn’t the only place ‘round here that has walls and people and a place to sleep. There’s a community not too far from here called Hilltop. If ya give the leader my name, he’ll let ya stay. Then just down near the ocean, there’s Oceanside, Cyndie is a good person.”

“Why are you trying to help me?” you asked as he finished.

“Yer a survivor. At some point, ya gotta stop movin’. Let yourself feel safe,” Daryl explained. “What’s the hurt in that?”

“There isn’t any,” you said, “but like I said, I’m not one for walls. I do better on my own.”

“Nobody does,” he disagreed.

“Aren’t you alone out here with your hunting, fishing, and your traps?” you asked with raised brows.

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “Just think about it, alright?”

“I gotta find who I’m lookin’ for, Daryl,” you said, smiling softly at him.

“Who are you looking for?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet,” you finally admitted, “but I guess I’ll know when I find them. I just know it’s not here. These aren’t my people, but they are yours. Your niece and nephew, they’re gonna need all the family they can get. Go see them, even if it’s just for a day. You never know when the last time will be.” You got up from the ground, dusting off your jeans.

“If ya need somewhere to sleep-” he said, but you cut him off.

“Thanks, but I gotta keep movin’. But before I go,” you slipped your hand into your pocket and pulled out a piece of leather cord. At the end of it was a 1788 Virginia quarter. The coin was weathered from all the hands it had passed through. It had been given to you by a guy about a year ago when you came across him hiding out in an old middle school. You reached over and pressed it into Daryl’s hand. He looked at it with confusion. “Just to remember, you know?” He closed his fingers around the small token and nodded.

“Thanks,” he said. “I hope ya find what yer lookin’ for, (Y/N),” he said and you knew he meant it. You offered your hand again and he gripped it. Letting go, you reached down and stroked Dog behind his ears.

“Till we meet again, Daryl,” you said and then picked up your backpack and disappeared into the dark woods, smiling for the first time in a long time.

Daryl watched after you, his thumb running over the silver coin in his hand. Dog nudged his other hand and Daryl obliged his furry companion, petting him down his back. Looking back at the flames he decided that tomorrow he would take a ride to Alexandria to see Judith and RJ. It had been too long and he needed to see his family.

TAGS: @thanossexual

#the walking dead imagines #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead #twd imagines #twd #twd season 9 #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #reader insert #Dog

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

Photo

I’m free forever. Free to sail the seas beyond the edges of the map. Free from death itself.

Headcanon for Pirate AU Kaye under the cut!

Captain of the Noctilux (light of the night), a galleon that is home to a notorious band of pirates who call themselves ‘The Wandering Equinox’. Unlike most other pirates, Kaye isn’t interested in pillaging or murder. Instead, he and most of his crew became pirates to live a life of freedom and adventure - as well as to stir up mischief with the rich and noble - who a lot of them hold a grudge against.

In the pirate au, Kaye is about 26 years-ish old.

GENERAL

Kaye’s personality can be described as stoic and aloof, but surprisingly lax and laid back for being a captain of a large crew. He’s quiet, reserved and isn’t especially chatty, but he can be loud and charismatic when he needs to be - as required for him to be a leader. While he does enforce some rules on his ship, he isn’t very strict about them - so long as the safety and wellbeing of his crew isn’t being compromised. He’s also against physical torture as a form of punishment like flogging. As such, his crew is quite carefree and playful. It’s not uncommon to hear laughter, singing and see games being played on ship. In fact, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say Kaye, in comparison to many other pirate captains on the seven seas, is kind of a glorified babysitter to a band of misfits.

Make no mistake though, Kaye is still the captain... and he WILL punish anyone who goes out of line - especially if a crewmate’s offence is hurting an innocent person or their own crewmates. He would never allow anyone who he knows is openly malicious or sadistic to others into his crew and he can be rather merciless in killing someone he deems cruel and despicable enough to deserve it.

Minor transgressions are met with less severe punishments, such as scrubbing the deck or being tied to the mast for an hour (the crew jokingly calls it the ‘time out mast’). In some cases, Kaye asks them to spar with him to train their physical combat. Most of them come out of the training session with aching muscles and many many bruises.

Kaye doesn’t really take much pride in being the captain - if anything he sees it as a mere duty. It’s not always obvious, especially to newcomers, but the older members of the Wandering Equinox will tell you that Kaye had to learn and get his ass handed to him many many times before he learned to be the good leader that he is today despite his considerably young age.

CREW RULES (in no particular order)

No fighting with one another - armed or otherwise. Sparring matches are fine, but they are to be overseen by at least one of the captain’s trusted officers or the captain himself.

All crewmates are to keep their weapons clean and ready at all times.

No crewmate shall have monopoly over any one type of resource. Everyone will learn to share and show kindness to their neighbor if they need provisions like fresh water more. This goes for the captain himself as well.

Lights are to be put out by nine at night. If anyone wants to stay up to drink beyond that time, they’ll have to do it upon the open deck so as to not disturb those who wishes to sleep.

Practice self-restraint in the consumption of alcohol. If you fall off the boat by accident while drunk, that’s your problem.

Sexual misconduct or harassment of any kind is to be punished by throwing the offending crewmate overboard IMMEDIATELY.

Pillaging and robbing the poor or vulnerable is strictly prohibited. Steal from the rich, give to the poor.

BACKSTORY

Kaye’s real name is Lazala Tatozala, the illegitimate son of a nobleman who had an affair with a peasant bar lady. For the first few years of his life, his mother took care of him and raised him to be a morally upstanding person - until she one day succumbed to illness. He was later taken in to live with his father’s household. His father’s wife, a governor’s daughter, was furious to learn of her husband’s affair, and took a lot of her frustrations out on young Lazala, abusing him physically and mentally. About a year after Laz has moved into the family when he was just 6 summers old, the woman had a son - Rokozala Tatozala.

The two boys had a strained relationship growing up - with Roko being pampered and treated with the love and affection from his birth mother and father that Laz never had. While Laz attempted to be a good big brother for Roko; feeding him what little food Laz was already allowed to have, offering to play with Roko, watching over Roko, Roko always kept his distance and was wary of Laz. Roko was taught by his mother that Laz was a lesser being - an unwanted bastard child who is unclean, and so grew up with the prejudice ingrained inside him. The older he grew, the more distant he became to his older brother.

Laz was one day visited by a mysterious man, a pirate captain who claimed to be Laz’s birth mother’s brother - making Laz his nephew. Though skeptical at first, the man took Laz to his old childhood home, and told the boy that he hadn’t known about his sister’s death until just recently since he’d spent the last several years sailing around the world.

His uncle told Laz all about his adventures as a pirate - free from the burdens of society, and offered to take Laz on board his crew and train him on how to be a pirate. Laz agreed.

Now a teen, Laz spent the next several years under his uncle’s wing, training not only physically in combat from what he later learned was apparently one of the best fighters upon the seven seas, but also the tips and tricks of the pirate trade. He inherited his uncle’s moral code to never hurt the weak or innocent, and was later told that should anything ever happen to the captain, he would want Laz to take over his responsibilities.

Wanting to leave behind his family and birth name, Laz went by the alias of Kaye and has since led his life as a wanderer of the seas.

OTHER HEADCANONS

Kaye is a master of a variety of weapons, using anything from daggers, cutlass, spears and axes to fight. He’s not as good when it comes to the use of firearms but he will use pistols and muskets if he has to.

Extremely agile, fast and strong. Has beaten a lot of people older than him in hand to hand combat.

Loves sweets but... they’re kind of a rarity to have on board. He doesn’t like alcohol, but puts up with drinking grog while he’s sailing. He’s never not sober - due in part to his careful consumption of alcohol as well as his high tolerance of it.

He can read and write, but he’s not the most book smart person on board... and his vocabulary is somewhat limited.

Compared to his canon self, pirate captain Kaye swears more frequently and he’s become used to blurting out certain pirate lingo even when he’s speaking to non-pirates.

The ship Kaye inherited from his uncle wasn’t originally named the Noctilux, Kaye renamed it and the crew after his uncle met his end prematurely.

Despite what happened, Kaye doesn’t actually hate or hold a grudge against Roko - and a part of him blames himself for not having the courage to ask Roko to run away with him back when he was offered a place on his uncle’s ship; not that Roko would have agreed to anyway.

Often refuses medical treatment because he believes the medical supplies should be saved for his crew. Often has to be dragged into the infirmary by Nanami and Illya by force to get his wounds treated.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #kaye #gpose #headcanons #pirate au #mine #This took a while to write out wow #i wanted to include pictures of kaye's half brother in here somewhere but #thought it'd be out of place so #that will be a separate set probably

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k1nky-fool · 3 years

Text

Between Regulations and Protocols

Part 1/?

Pairing: Thrawn x OC

m/f pairing

Rating: Teen

Warnings: bit of angst, introductions to characters and story.

Taglist: none yet. If you want to be tagged in future chapters, feel free to DM me or comment on this chapter.

It wasn’t as though she could have prevented this disaster. However, there were certainly moments which, in hindsight, could have been changed just by thinking through a decision with a wiser mind. By now, it was much too late, and the mess left in front of Ceka was as regrettable as it was dangerous.

For her at least, this was dangerous. She hadn’t meant for it to get so out of hand. As far as she was concerned one or two of the indulgences she allowed herself were fine. It was when these “indulgences” became so regular they might as well be the rule, that it began to be a problem.

Every time Ceka gave herself that allowance, every rule in the book ran through her head, making sure that none were being broken. As far as the book was concerned, crushing this hard on a superior was not forbidden so long as it was not acted upon and the individual in question’s work is not compromised.

There were rules for relationships. Probably because Ceka’s current predicament was not uncommon. Especially when one was serving under an officer as respectful and intelligent as Grand Admiral Thrawn. Feelings happened, and rules were in place. And while rules were not broken, Ceka could snake her way around them without even so much as bending them.

It was necessary with her situation. Long before she was ever harboring feelings for the Grand Admiral, Ceka had to claw her way to the top as a Togruta in a system that was clearly designed to cut those like her down.

Perhaps that was what drew her to Grand Admiral Thrawn in the first place. As shallow and rude as it sounded, him being a non-human, thriving in such a rigged system was astounding to Ceka. She knew first-hand what it takes just to get out of the academy in one piece. It took bone, blood, and tears just to get to her current position. It was probably another level of hell in reality to get to a position where people took orders from him instead of having to fight for enough recognition to be respected as a living being.

Of course the first thing she did when assigned as an ISB consultant on The Chimera was to do her research on her superior. Even if he wasn’t such a sight for sore eyes, she would have looked into him, just to get a map of the territory she was treading on. Ceka had served under her fair share of slimy bastards and downright war criminals.

Much to her surprise, he was almost spotless. A court marshall, but it wasn’t a severe offense, at least not to her. Above all else, nobody had anything very malicious to say about working under him. There were plenty of people who were conflicted, taking orders from a non-human. However, the vast majority of people, even Stormtroopers, had relatively nice things to say about working under him.

What they did say was that Grand Admiral Thrawn was a rather imposing presence. He ran a seamless ship, left little room for error so long as the crew did their work. It was said he was a ruthless strategist, which didn’t surprise Ceka in the slightest considering what she had read of him. He was intimidating, but very few had any elaboration on that comment. She didn’t see for herself until she was called into his office the next day. Ceka hadn’t the slightest idea of what he wanted.

Entering his office was damn near surreal. Ceka hadn’t met anyone in Imperial High Command that held such a collection of art. And especially not such a diverse lineup either. Everything from a Mirialan statuette of a goddess she couldn’t name, to a segment of a durasteel wall covered corner-to-corner in generations of graffiti, to a Clone’s painted helmet from the war it was so known for. The Grand Admiral, himself, was nowhere to be found.

Right away, this struck Ceka as odd. The art was the lesser of two analyses in her mind. She had been called over her wrist comm to meet Grand Admiral Thrawn in his office, where he is not currently present. If it were a prank from a superior officer for some hazing she was too familiar with, then it would have been a better move to call her here while the admiral was present. If it was indeed the admiral that sent for her, then there was a reason for this.

In interrogation, making the suspect wait was a tactic to put them on edge. And if that was the admiral’s goal, then it was working. But it wouldn’t do well to leave an unknown individual in your office, especially since she knew it was more than likely that he knew she was looking him up as soon as she got here. Letting her in here without supervision was a foolish move.

Unless of course, she wasn’t unsupervised.

Keeping her wits about her, Ceka began walking around the office, carefully observing everything in the room. To anyone watching, it would look more like she was admiring all the art on display, when in reality, she was scanning over every surface in search of anything that might be a recording device. If it’s sending a live feed, then it’ll be in something that can easily conceal wires or large enough and shaped well enough to hide an antenna to transmit the data to a screen somewhere.

She mentally cleared a random painting, and the durasteel graffiti wall. A few of the sculptures could barely fit enough material in them to remain standing, so those were cleared too. The Mirialan statuette was too small to hide anything. And it would be easy to see the mechanisms of a recording device inside.

More suddenly than Ceka would have liked, she stopped dead in her tracks. She turned to the clone helmet. She felt stupid as soon as she noticed it; this particular helmet was outfitted with a recorder by its visor. They were used to record and review battlefield footage in the Clone War. The antenna on the helmet and the device itself fit the categories to send live feed to a holoscreen somewhere. “Very subtle, Grand Admiral. I wish I had noticed sooner, but if you were looking to challenge me, you certainly did a good job.”

A door on the side of the office hissed open, revealing the man that set up this whole charade. “Not one new crew member has deduced the design of the test until now. Most giving in to impatience long before they attempt to find reason.”

“You do this with every new crew member?” She asked.

“Everyone assigned to The Chimera ranked Lieutenant or higher.” He said. “However, as mentioned, you are the first to realize you were being observed. Let alone to find the device I was watching from.”

Ceka wasn’t sure exactly how to feel about that. She was half certain he was complimenting her, but there was also a chance he was just thinking out loud about what he had observed. “Seeing as I am an ISB agent, and in charge of interrogation, I would hope I know my way around observation tactics.”

“You have found a place where your talents are put to good use.” He said, “However, I do find myself rather curious about you.”

Ceka moved to the space in front of his desk as he moved behind it to take something out of one of the drawers. "I'm more than happy to answer any questions you have." She said.

"I will keep that in mind." He noted, pulling something up in the holoprojector. It was just about every file The Empire kept on her. Every mission, every report, every personal file, and even her academy registration. "Much like yourself, I did my research when you were assigned to The Chimera. I must say, your talents are exemplary, yet based on the impression you made when faced with my test, your files do not add up."

Clearly the lack of reaction from her made him all the more interested. In truth, she expected he might say that. "What specifically do you want to know?"

"Agent Lo, I am no stranger to the ruthless ends humans will go to in order to assure they are not upstaged by someone they deem less than themselves." He cut in. "Yet you have managed to reach your current rank without any recorded incident. Not even so much as uniform code violation marres your record."

"I consider myself an upstanding agent." She said, as though to tell him respectfully to get to the point.

"Then tell me, Agent, why is it you actively dull any record of your success?"

"Sir?"

"I understand the need to blend in with your peers." He continued, "However every record that mentions an accomplishment of yours has been buried in unnecessary details; even your own reports follow this pattern."

Ceka could feel her throat tighten and her face heat as Thrawn observed her carefully as though he could see through her skin. He was indeed as intimidating as everyone had said. She had said she was willing to answer whatever questions he had, and now she wished she hadn't said that.

She forced herself to relax. "You said it yourself. I need to blend in with my peers. And you know better than anyone else what they're willing to do to cut me down should I rise above them." Ceka explained. "It's a method of survival, that is all. Remaining at the average minimizes the harassment I receive."

Thrawn considered her words. "Why minimize it?" He asked. "It would be far easier to simply retire from military service."

A small smile graced her face. There was so much more to her than just self preservation. "Because retiring is not my goal, sir."

"What is your goal, agent?"

There was the right question. "To make my home planet whole again." She answered without hesitation. "The Galactic Empire has redistributed the population of Shili to only major cities and tribes they had the ability to commit troops to. My tribe was among the many to be forced off their ancestral territory. My goal is to climb ISB ranks until I can bring to light that it is more dangerous to The Empire to force Togrutas off their homeland than to commit minimal troops to the smaller tribes."

"A noble cause, Agent Lo." He noted. "I have come to a decision. I expect you to take full credit for every successful assignment I give you. Should I find in any of your reports that you belittle your role in the accomplishment, the report will be rejected, and I will require a new one."

"Ah- sir, I-"

"That will be all, Agent Lo, you are dismissed."

Ceka opened her mouth to speak again, but the rulebook went through her head again. Disobeying orders was an offence one could be court marshalled for. But voicing disagreements were not prohibited, even though any officer would find a way to punish you for questioning orders.

However here, Ceka would risk it. "Indulge me for one more minute, sir." She all but demanded, causing him to once again pay close attention to her. "I understand what you're doing. You want me to step up; to be something greater than I am. Because after hearing what I am trying to accomplish, you believe you have a better strategy than I do."

Her words caught him off guard. She didn't give him enough time to recover before she continued. "I acknowledge that I probably don't have the best strategy. However, if you are going to require me to bend to your plan for my own life, then you're going to need a better strategy to get me to follow along." Ceka held her head high, and hid her nerves behind a strong voice. "Because if there is anything I know you have learned from your test and our minimal interactions, it is that I am patient, especially when I am being beat down and discarded."

"This is your way of telling me you do not intend to abandon your methods?" He inquired.

"This is my way of showing you the merits of my methods." She clarified. "And hopefully, I will change your mind."

Thrawn scanned her face once again, coming to some unknown conclusion. "It is unwise to reveal your end goal to the enemy."

Ceka offered a modest smile. "You are not my enemy, sir."

With that, she turned on her heel and made her way out the door. Ceka's heart raced and she had to make a solid effort to slow her breathing. Right then she promised herself that arguing with him would be forbidden from there on out. That was far too dangerous, and it was a miracle Thrawn hadn't cut her off and refused to hear her out. He could have her off The Chimera by morning. But even then she knew that this was an empty promise.

-X-

As it turns out, eighty-four was the magical number of rejected reports before Grand Admiral Thrawn finally gives in and calls you into his office to renegotiate the terms of his orders. It took twenty-eight days to reach this point. Every day, she would eat her meals and write out a new report to the same mission, even if Thrawn had yet to notify her that the last one was rejected. Ceka stood in front of his desk once again, as he flipped through all eighty-four reports on the holoprojector.

It was one single mission. An investigation into disappearing medical supplies from a medicenter on Pantora, that Ceka had figured out pretty quickly. But every single one of them was worded to shine the light of success into anyone other than her.

Thrawn must have been looking for something in the reports, but he was coming up empty handed. It was another brief moment before he shut off the holoprojector. "I admit, I underestimated your talent for persistence."

She couldn't have been more excited to hear that from him. In all honesty, it was wearing her out. Finding new ways to reword the same events was exhausting. "However, what you have shown me is something I did not expect to find." He said, now slowly walking around his desk to circle her. "My attempt to outsmart you was quickly turned into a challenge to outlast you. However, it has answered more questions about you than I could ever ask."

"I am glad the experience was illuminating, sir." She was careful not to appear smug or prideful in any way, even if she was rather proud of herself for this.

"What has come to light is exactly how you managed to remain unseen by those that wish to do you harm, yet impress those that you wish to be more visible to." He explained. "I would like to see you put this to use more often."

"What do you have in mind, sir?"

"To start, I will rescind my orders to take more praise in your reports." Thrawn said, causing Ceka to smile. "In light of your tenacity, I have another duty for you. As it is already one of your many tasks on my ship to assess the officers and troopers for information leaks, I would also like you to send me reports of those who rise above their peers."

Ceka was surprised to receive such a request from him. "Pardon me, sir, but can't you select your elite by looking at the reports yourself?"

"It has occured to me that you are far from the only officer under my command that hides behind their more obnoxious coworkers and modest wording in reports. Unfortunately, due to their efforts, it is difficult to find the more competent workers of my fleet." He explained. "You are in a particularly beneficial position to solve this problem. Seeing as you are not only interacting with the lower ranks of my fleet on a closer level, you also know what to look for in those that possess the same skill set as you."

"It takes one to know one." Ceka chuckled awkwardly, knowing exactly what he meant. Honestly it was a miracle he even saw her point of view at all. Let alone be open to changing his mind and instead giving her an assignment that they both agreed would suit her talents. "I can do that, sir."

"That is much appreciated, agent." Thrawn said, "You are dismissed."

Ceka turned to leave, but she stopped herself. Once again the rules made her hesitate. It might not be professionalism at its best, but she would give herself this allowance. "Oh, grand admiral, sir?"

Thrawn turned to face her once more. He was no longer a stranger to how bold Ceka Lo could be, but this time she wasn't angry. Instead, she smiled kindly. "Thank you. For giving me a chance." It was a split second, so fast she wasn't even sure it was completely real; Thrawn returned with a small percentage of a smile to her.

There was a faster moment that Ceka felt herself take a moment to recover, where her heart stuttered at the sight of him just smiling for a fraction of a second. However it was gone the moment she reminded herself where she was and who he was. "Sir." She nodded with a stern voice, bidding him goodbye before she marched back out the office door.

It was rare a superior gave her the time of day. And so rare to be given respect and a smile that Thrawn was the first to offer after many, many years of serving the Empire. Ceka held onto that image in her mind every time someone would say anything hurtful, or when someone would do something rude. She allowed herself to remember Thrawn gave her a chance to prove herself, and he respected her for it.

There were moments that she stood in his office again, whether it be for a strategy meeting or a PSA for the higher ranked officers, Ceka hoped to whatever god in the galaxy was listening that she might catch another glimpse of his smile.

He smirked quite often, she found. Not that it was very easy to notice those either, but once she was watching, she noticed. It was usually when he was explaining his strategy to his officers that his expressions were slightly more discernible. For the most part, he kept the same even tone, and strong, calculated glare. Red eyes kept up with every little detail going on around him, and Ceka had to wonder exactly which details he noticed.

Really at this point, Ceka found she looked for any reason to be around Thrawn. He was an island of peace in an ocean of exhausting people. But what really made her start to worry was when he probably figured out he was her island.

It was rather chaotic in the aftermath of an attack. The way The Chimera was run made the battle itself run like a well oiled machine. However, trying to get everyone on the same page, especially if there were significant losses, was pretty much hell.

One particular flight officer was being specifically infuriating. She just wanted to know how many TIE fighters they had left. Ceka did not need to know who was flying, and who came back, or why only four fighters could land properly. Cykla went off on another tangent about how they were going to need repairs before she finally cut him off. "Cykla, just tell me how many TIE fighters we have left in the fleet."

Despite her even tone, Ceka had murder on her mind and it must have shown on her face with how he shut up immediately. "Six."

"Great…" She hissed out. "Now I can go to my job and tell the Grand Admiral we need more TIE fighters. You are dismissed, Cykla."

He gave a curt nod, running off to do whatever the hell else he had to to get this ship running at full capacity again. Ceka busied herself punching the numbers into a slow datapad, being on the verge of throwing it against a wall.

"I take it Officer Cykla was being difficult." Thrawn's voice made her jump slightly, but the second her eyes landed on him, she gave a small smile, and she visibly relaxed.

"Just a little slow." Ceka chuckled, still trying to hit the datapad to get the damn number to punch in. "Which seems to be a running theme today."

"Is there something wrong with your datapad, Agent?" He asked.

"I dropped it off the hyperdrive room railing when the ship was first hit. Didn't have the chance to get it back until a few minutes ago, but it looks like a few people might have stepped on it." She explained, knocking it against her montral and hearing something make a pinging sound echo around in her head. That couldn't be a good sign. "Well, that's unfortunate. I have a few nostalgic files on this datapad."

"I am curious of what you might keep on a datapad that one would find nostalgic." He said.

"Oh, it was just a few of the Pantora Medicenter Investigation reports I never got to give you. I kept writing them until you told me I could stop." She shrugged.

"How many reports did you write?" He asked with clear curiosity.

Ceka actually had to think hard for a moment. "You gave up at eighty-four, but I had a few extras on queue. I wrote a total of one-hundred-two reports."

Thrawn usually did a great job of hiding his emotions, but ever since Ceka started paying close attention to him, she began noticing the smallest expressions he gave. Right now his eyes went to the side, as though he had to give himself a moment to process that information. There were eighteen more reports on that one mission. All of them ready to be rejected, where she was ready to write more.

When he did look back to her, Ceka was smiling again, now trying to stop herself from laughing. "Do you find something amusing, Agent Lo?"

She really wished she could say no. Usually when a superior officer asked that question it just meant to stop smiling and take things seriously. However it was not in Thrawn's nature to use many euphemisms or human sayings, so he was genuinely asking. "Yes, sir." She nodded, still smiling as she explained herself. "It's not all that difficult to read your expressions. And when I told you how many reports I had written it was like every gear in your head stopped turning all at once. I thought it looked a little uncharacteristic is all."

Thrawn became more interested in her words. "I have rarely heard that it is easy to read my expressions. In fact most say the exact opposite."

Now it was her turn to stop and think. How in the hells did she hope to explain this to him? Was she supposed to tell Grand Admiral Thrawn that he spent just about every moment of every day hoping to see him, or that if she did get to see him that she carefully watched him in hopes of seeing him smile again? No, that would be very bad. But lying to a superior officer was quite specifically stated in the regulation.

"I'm in ISB. I guess I'm just very good at watching for small details." Both statements were true. She didn't have to tell him that the two statements had little to no correlation in reality or that she was only good at watching him for close details. Everyone else she just knew how to interrogate.

A beat of a moment went by before she caught it. Another split second where he gave a genuine smile, only for it to be gone the next second. The instant that passed by in silence before he answered felt like an eternity. "Indeed you are."

His answer left Ceka more distressed than trying to figure out how to avoid confessing her every private thought to him. Did he know she was hiding something? Did he know all along what she was doing? She wanted answers, but nobody but Thrawn could give them to her. She was all the more terrified of what those answers might be.

Though, it was nice to come back to her cabin late that night to find a new datapad waiting on her desk.

She didn't see Thrawn for a while after that. Not one on one, at least. She would occasionally catch him in the bridge as she was doing rounds with all the stations. Though when Ceka looked over to him out of habit, more often than not, he would already be closely observing her. Every time he did, she would tense up again and focus back on her work.

The heart stopping call came later that week. Thrawn asked to see her in his office once again. She had no idea what this could be about, and nothing about the last week really stood out. And especially not since their awkward conversation.

Though, he didn't waste any time as soon as she entered the art-filled space. Right away, she could tell something was up. Thrawn had never looked so worn out, not even after talking to the lieutenants. "Agent, if you are not currently indisposed, I would appreciate some assistance."

"What do you need?" Ceka asked without hesitation. Either she would get this over with or she would have to prepare herself for a long task.

"There was an incident with a terrorist group on the planet surface this afternoon. Unfortunately, Commander Bengts is on medical leave for the next three weeks, and since you and I are the only officers left with the clearance and skills necessary to review the reports, we are the only ones to be able to complete the processing." He explained.

"Would these usually just go into filing? Unless there's something specifically abnormal about this incident?" Thrawn had already sent the reports to her datapad.

"Yes. According to several eyewitness accounts, an imperial officer was seen giving information and weapons to three of the attackers just before it began."

Ceka took a long breath, calming her nerves. It didn't help that she was already on shaky ground with Thrawn as she was still questioning if he was aware of her growing fondness for him. Good thing endurance was her specialty, otherwise she would have given up the first time he smiled at her.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she came to her choice. "This probably means they're waiting on some kind of information to pass on. They're not yet ready for a full attack, which is why they simply aided the terrorists and didn't blow their cover. By your estimation, how long do we have before such an informant gets their hands on severely damaging information?"

"Depending on their rank, approximately two days. In the next fifty hours, I will be receiving a transmission from the Imperial headquarters on the surface to account for the current number of troopers on guard and officers working." He answered.

Ceka took her datapad and began searching through the reports. "The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can sleep." She said. "Unfortunately, time is not something we have the luxury of."

-X-

-Thrawn-

"Let us start with who was present on the ground during the attack-"

"No, we need to start with who exactly these terrorists are, and what they were doing. What was their mission? How did they accomplish it? Where did they escape to after its completion? Or if they completed their mission at all." Ceka interjected. "We've been here on Wutellou for about a standard month. Start with the locals. What do we know about them as a people?"

Her interruption surprised him to say the least. To be completely honest, she hadn't ever stopped surprising him. However, Ceka had the right approach to the problem. He was certain she would just let him take the lead, but it was becoming increasingly clear that despite her near religious commitment to subtlety, when it came to him she was anything but reserved the way she was with everyone else. It was easy to see why Agent Ceka Lo had captured Thrawn's attention.

"Tellouans are a very spiritual people. They also place most of their values into unity and connection to one another and their planet." He explained. "The population seems to worship the ground, as a way of giving respect to the very thing that gives them the vegetation they grow for food and spiritual practices."

"That… sounds awfully familiar."

"I imagine it would." He said, pulling up a few sources on his holoprojector. "Watellou shares many similarities with your homeworld, Shili."

"However, they're largely vegetarians, from what I can gather. There aren't many animals big enough to eat on Watellou." Ceka noted, in a somewhat short tempered way. "So, they probably aren't as culturally focused on hunting as my people."

Thrawn noted how she grumbled about the lack of meat on the planet. It had occurred to him that Togrutas were carnivores, and unable to eat most of the food served in the mess. Though, he did make sure she wasn't starving, even though there wasn't a whole lot of good food for Ceka to eat. "You did say they hold a deep connection to their planet." She recalled. "So, it would be a fair assumption that they don't want the Imperial agricultural project on their planet, since it is so sacred to them."

"That is logical, yes." He agreed. "Which means their attacks are not likely to be carried out on a large scale, so as not to harm the ground."

"Let's take a look at the reports." She turned to her datapad, connecting it with the holoprojector. "The report of the soldier that saw what type of weapons were being smuggled said they were E-11 blaster rifles. However weapons were not the only thing given to the insurgents."

"The inventory report after the attack states several crates of empty gas canisters were also missing." Thrawn pointed out. "An attack utilizing poison gas would assure the land attacked would not be harmed."

One look to Ceka proved she was enjoying herself while digging for information. "Guess what the most poisonous plant on Watellou is." A smile cracked across her cheeks as she pulled an info file of a simple flower onto the projector. "The Osella blossom is a flower that is only found in the very few coniferous forests on Watellou. The one closest to where the supply warehouse was attacked is owned by a local businessman, who employs many people to gather these flowers. Oddly enough, four days ago, he reported that a large portion of his freshly picked flowers had gone missing."

Thrawn looked over the file on the flowers. "Only the roots are poisonous. The flower petals are dried and used for a tea that is very popular among the locals. Boiling the roots will secrete a poisonous gas known as Lesurra gas." He read. "We know the insurgents are planning a large gas attack. More than likely on the Imperial command center that has been established."

"So we know what they want, how they plan to do it, and because of the information you will be getting in the next two days, we know when they plan to do it." Ceka concluded. "Now we just need to figure out who is planning to leak that information to them."

"Now we must narrow down the list of suspects based on reports." He said. Ceka took a deep breath, finding a seat on his desk as she began reading through reports.

The low light of the holoprojector illuminated her more now that she was seated right next to it. The blue light did little to change the tone of her skin. It was rare that Thrawn met many Togrutas in his line of work, however, even Ceka was certainly something of a rare specimen of her species.

When Thrawn was researching her, he found that the specific shades of light blue that showed on her skin were only found in two clans of the Lo Tribe, and nowhere else on Shili. Ceka had a very soft appearance. Her age wasn't shown anywhere other than the length of her lekku, which placed her perhaps a year or two younger than himself. Her montrals rounded backward off her head and spiked back up like horns. The patterns across her skin were soft, bubbled shapes that spread all around like water.

But it didn't take a military genius to know she was so much more vicious than her appearance suggested. Particularly her deep violet eyes, that scanned everything as though it could give her something if she just convinced it of such. Ceka bit her lip in focus on the task at hand. She was quite brilliant, even if she was convinced her only talents were in enduring brutal treatment. Thrawn wanted nothing more than to show her that she had other talents that could help her never see such brutal treatment ever again.

In some ways Thrawn noticed Ceka's favor of him, though usually only through her demeanor. It confused him how she could manage to be both comfortable expressing herself to him and rigid the second he acknowledged her comfort.

In many ways, Thrawn saw himself being drawn to her. He rarely bothered to know his subordinates more than basic research, and in truth, Ceka was one of only seven people to ever peak his interest enough to give them the test she passed with such ease. Her response had only heightened his curiosity of her character. Even this was an opportunity for him to learn more about her. And every time he learned something new, his interest only grew.

This was indeed going to be a long night.

-X-

It had been nearly eight hours. Four a.m. galactic standard time. Every report from the warehouse had been looked through, and even people that weren't planetside had been looked into. Nothing looked even remotely suspicious.

"I don't suppose you've already ruled out the possibility that they had someone impersonate an officer?" Ceka asked with a dragging voice. She laid on her back on Thrawn's desk, staring up at the holograms that still hadn't given them a lead.

"You ruled that out three hours ago." He reminded her. "If I recall correctly, you said a Tellouan with a skin color and texture similar to a human's would be more rare than finding one with horns small enough to fit into an officer's uniform. I also agreed, stating that using an infiltrator would not guarantee they would be able to get the information they need for their attack."

"You're right." Ceka groaned, rubbing her eyes again. "Either way, we're running out of time. Forty-seven hours to find a traitor with no leads is damn near impossible."

"You say 'near impossible.' Is there something you believe would make the task at hand possible?" He asked.

"The ability to drink three gallons of caf in a minute would be helpful." She said, "More people to look through the reports would be useful. Many hands make for light work, after all, but alerting our subordinates that there is a traitor amidst them is too high of a risk. I think it's impossible to find the culprit in time with only two people."

Thrawn was impressed with Ceka in the eight hours they had spent together theorizing and even arguing at times. However, he would admit he would have never gotten this far on his own, this fast. Most of the investigation is credited to Ceka. It was his job to help her investigate, then come up with a plan once they had found their traitor.

"Agent, you are an exemplary investigator. If there is anyone that can accomplish this in the given timeframe, it is you." He said.

Suddenly, Ceka sat up. About a million thoughts looked to be passing behind her eyes before she settled on one. "Timeframe…." Her voice was quiet, as she once again took control of the holoprojector, still sitting on his desk. "We're looking at the wrong timeframe."

She pulled up personnel files from everyone who was planetside for the last four days. "Remember, four days ago, the report of a missing batch of Osella flowers was given by a local businessman?" She asked. "We know his own employee probably stole them, right?"

"That was the logical conclusion, yes." Thrawn agreed.

"First, what if the traitor isn't working alone?"

"Then I suppose only half of the information would be present in the reports of the warehouse attack. The other half would be with someone we have already ruled out, thus making it impossible for us to find the culprits on those reports, alone." He reasoned. "Who do you suspect?"

"Four days ago, Commander Bengts was hospitalized. The morning after the Osella flower batch went missing." Ceka explained with a smile on her face, searching for a minute before pulling up the commander's medical file.

Thrawn read the file thoroughly before landing on something that Ceka must have known would be there by the way she smiled. "Reason for hospitalization: Toxin inhalation." He read out loud.

He turned to Ceka once again, only to find her still smiling. "We can order a test for the Osella toxin and have the results in the next two hours."

"That only leaves her accomplice." Thrawn noted, searching through the reports again to see which officer specifically has been stationed with Commander Bengts for their assignment to Watellou. One name stuck out. "Supply Officer Cykla was planetside, stationed at the warehouse during the attack." He pointed out. "Cykla was also the officer that filled out the inventory report of what was stolen. And has also been assigned to the command center tomorrow to report inventory, where he will have access to the transmissions being sent from the command center."

Ceka placed her feet on the ground, standing tall, but a little wobbly from the sleep deprivation. "Shall I set up interrogations, sir?"

"No need." He ordered. "I will give the order to have Commander Bengts tested for the Osella toxin, and I shall reassign Officer Cykla to accompany me to organize the information from the command center. He will be forced to abandon his original plan and act in panic, giving us the evidence we need to incriminate him."

"I can help, sir. You don't need to carry this out alone." She was nearly pleading even if she could keep it behind a thin layer of professionalism.

"I am sure you can offer your skills to the mission. However you are sleep deprived, and until you are well rested, you would be unnecessarily placing yourself in harm's way if you were to continue like this." Thrawn reasoned. "As of now, you are relieved of duty until you have recovered."

"But, sir-"

"That is an order, Agent Lo." His voice became stern, but as he watched Ceka, she appeared to halted all cognitive thought as she suppressed a shiver. Thrawn noticed how her face became hot and the muscles around her throat tightened. He was unaware that Togrutas not only blushed on their face, but also their lekku.

Ceka had to force herself to breath again. "Yes, sir." Was all she could get out from behind tense muscles and a figure frozen in place.

"You are dismissed."

She marched off in a hurry, though Thrawn didn't get the impression that she was scared at all. In fact she seemed to be enjoying herself quite a bit.

Thrawn decided to focus on the task at hand. He had just barely learned the nuances of human behavior, he didn't have the time to figure out what made Ceka tick before his command center was eradicated.

-X-

-Ceka Lo-

After Thrawn had commanded her to get some sleep, Ceka was having a surprising amount of difficulty letting go of consciousness. There was a lot to process, particularly about how the entire night had gone.

She hadn't meant to so casually sit on his desk, though when he didn't stop her or even mention it, Ceka allowed herself to get comfortable. They had started the night speaking with formalities, though as time progressed and exhaustion began to take hold, she began interrupting him when she felt like it, as he would for her. She swore a few times without any shame. When she laid down on his desk, he didn't say anything. She took every liberty, and Thrawn gave them without any question.

But at the very end of it all, the order he gave her wasn't what surprised her. It was her own reaction to how he spoke. Heat shot up her spine and she stood at complete attention. What shocked her was that she honestly didn't expect to be given an order, despite everything Ceka had drilled into her head from day one at the academy. Somehow, she felt comfortable enough around Thrawn that it was a surprise when he did normal, imperial, things.

Though, even then Ceka knew this could only be the beginning of something terrible.

-X-

Somehow she managed to pass out after an hour. When she awoke again, everything appeared to be working smoothly. No trooper was out of place, no officer looked worried, and all was as though Ceka never fell asleep in the first place. Though, a quick look at her wrist chrono told her it had been nearly six hours.

Walking through corridors to Thrawn's office, she found something must be working well. There were two troopers standing guard instead of just one. "I take it Cykla is in there?"

"Yes sir." The command trooper confirmed. The other flinched when he spoke. Suddenly the other trooper was very interesting.

"Is something bothering you, trooper?" Ceka asked with a warm smile. She wasn't ignorant of her appearance. She was rather soft looking, and it was easy for people to underestimate her or trust her. Most people she interrogated were more likely to trust a non-human because of how rare they were in the Empire.

The trooper stood firmly at attention. "No sir." There was something off about his voice. Though, with two words, it was difficult to place.

"It's ok to be anxious. I'm sure anyone would be worried once they wondered why the grand admiral doubled the security in his office." She suggested. The trooper must have been eyeing her cautiously behind his helmet.

"I assure you, I'm fine sir." He said. Now Ceka could place it.

"You won't be." Before he could even flinch, she knocked the blaster out of his hand and rammed his head into the wall. The command trooper aimed his gun at the two of them, unsure as to what was going on. "At ease, soldier." She said, taking the helmet off the unconscious criminal, revealing dark green skin, and very small horns for one of his kind. "He was probably back up."

"How did you know?"

"His Tellouan accent." She said, restraining the prisoner. "Now I just need to see what his plan was. Take him to containment. I'll stand guard here."

"Yes, sir." He replied faithfully, throwing the infiltrator over his shoulder and carrying him away. Ceka pulled her blaster out, and set it to stun, now waiting for Cykla to make a break for it.

A loud crash came from inside the office, and the door hissed open. She stunned Cykla as soon as she laid eyes on him. Thrawn looked between Ceka and the man on the floor with mild amusement. "May I set up interrogations now, sir?"

Thrawn calmly caught his breath, wiping some of the blood off his cheek. "Yes, Agent Lo, that would be the wisest course of action."

...

Thrawn and Ceka stood together, watching the live feed from the two interrogation rooms, waiting for Cykla to regain consciousness. The Tellouan infiltrator nervously fiddled with the cuffs on his wrists, probably trying to find a way to break them off.

"Commander Bengts tested positive for the Osella toxin." Thrawn said, "She has been placed under arrest, but is still recovering."

"We'll need more evidence if we want to convict her. Getting one of these two to admit she's an accomplice should be enough, but I am not confident they'll talk for anything short of their freedom." She noted, looking at the two of them. Cykla was now gaining consciousness, frantically looking around the room and struggling against the restraints.

"Perhaps striking a deal with them is necessary."

Something was finding Ceka rather uncomfortably, and she wanted nothing more than to tear it apart to find out what exactly made it that way. It was Officer Cykla. He's panicking and struggling far too much for someone that had a decent plan until now.

"Perhaps not." She said, exiting the observation room and entering the interrogation.

-Thrawn-

Cykla was quick to stop moving as soon as Ceka entered the room. She didn't say anything as she sat down on the table to his left.

Thrawn couldn't see much from here, yet at the very least he could tell she wasn't trying to be imposing. She reached across the table and released his restraints, sitting back on the table comfortably and without any sign of defensiveness.

She was waiting for something. Pushing this man to the edge of something, but waiting for him to jump off on his own. Ceka remained silent. From the angle of the holorecorder, Thrawn couldn't see her face, but he almost intrinsically knew she was giving her subject a kind smile.

The silence must have become unbearable to the human. "What do you want, Lo?"

"I thought you'd never ask." She said, "You see, a witness at the scene of the attack yesterday saw you aiding the terrorists in their escape, but there's something that's gone completely unanswered, and I want you to give it to me."

"I'm not about to turn on my allies." He hissed back at her.

"Oh- no you aren't. Certainly not yet." She said, "At least not without a reason to. I happen to be in a position to get you just a year of community service, and a dishonorable discharge from the Imperial Navy. Where you can live out the rest of your life doing whatever you want."

"And what in the hells makes you think I value myself over my cause?"

"Why shouldn't you?" She asked as though she were genuinely concerned. "I've seen how much value your life has. And I believe it's worth more than being executed on a treason charge." Cykla broke eye contact and stared at the floor. "I'm not a fool enough to believe you don't have people you're doing this for. Wouldn't it be better to go home and see them again?"

Cykla came to his conclusion quickly. "I want to negotiate those terms." He said.

"Then negotiate."

"I tell you who my associate is, and I take the blame for everything." He said, "Everything was my idea, and she was forced to take orders from me. She gets to live."

"Cykla, you will be executed for this."

"But she won't." He stated. "I want this agreement in writing. So you can't back out after I'm gone."

"Your accomplice must mean quite a lot to you." Ceka noted.

"She is everything and more to me." He said.

Ceka stood from the table and exited the interrogation chamber. Making her way back to the observation room where Thrawn was waiting for her.

She was clearly torn by the situation. She began tapping through her datapad.

"What are you looking for?" Thrawn asked.

"Commander Bengts' medical record." She said, "I have a strong suspicion about why Cykla is so desperate to protect her."

"And why would that be?" Thrawn asked, curious about what Ceka saw that he missed.

Suddenly she stopped scrolling, her shoulders deflating in defeat. Handing the datapad to him, she pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned against the wall, perhaps in regret.

Thrawn looked at the data on the medical file. It was a few pages after the tox screen results, so it wasn't important at the time they were initially investigating. However, it was possibly the most important piece of information in the whole investigation. "She's pregnant."

Ceka nodded. Now it made more sense why she was so torn on this decision. "Tell me I'm being too soft." Her voice held strong, but the tensity in her muscles said otherwise about her emotions. "Tell me we should just execute them both, and move on with our lives. That it's better to just manipulate his confession and charge them both with treason like every other officer would."

"Do you truly believe that to be the wisest course of action in this case?" Thrawn asked.

"I want to believe it is in my best interest."

"Yet you are still questioning it."

"By Imperial Law, I need a confession from him to charge her. But if he doesn't confess to her being an accomplice, then there's nothing I can do, and at most she'll be medically discharged." Ceka went through her thought process. "Either way, Cykla is going to be charged with treason. There's no way I can get around that."

"Then perhaps you don't want him to give up Bengts." Thrawn suggested. "She will be medically discharged, and you don't live with that on your conscience."

"I can't allow Imperial Law to be determined by the weight on my conscience." She argued.

"Then don't allow it." He stated.

"It'll be a failed interrogation on my near flawless record."

"Attempting to rationalize the less favorable option will not help you make the decision you have already made."

Ceka bit her lip and closed her eyes. She took a moment to take a deep breath before neutralizing her expression and leaving to speak to Cykla again.

On the holoscreen, Ceka stood to her full height. "We will not abide by such an agreement for your accomplice."

"You what!?" Cykla burst. "You can't! She has to live!"

"It will take more investigation, but I am confident that I can find a name without your help." She calmly exited the room as Cykla struggled against the handcuffs.

Ceka didn't return to the observation room.

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x oc #thrawn #original chatacter #original story #star wars #ceka lo

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