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rosethornewrites · 1 year

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Fic: and sings the tune without the words, ch. 9

Additional Tags: Epistolary, Food, Music, Secrets, Resentful Energy, Cultivation Sect Politics, Character Death

Summary: Jiang Yanli and Lan Xichen exchange letters in the aftermath of Wen Ruohan’s disastrous visit.

Notes: See end.

Previous fic in the series: “the thing with feathers”

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

AO3 link

———

Dear Lan-gongzi,

I know you’ve probably been worried, and I don’t know whether your didi’s letter had a lot of information, so I thought I would update you.

I was with A-Xian for moral support when Wen Qing came to examine him, and Wen-zongzhu hurt my didi by trying to force the curse from his head, and there was some sort of backlash before anyone could try to intervene. A-Xian screamed so loudly and his eyes glowed deep red and he was floating and surrounded by black smoke, which your brother tells me is how resentful energy looks. Then it all blasted out and the next thing I knew, A-Xian was on the ground and the healing pavilion had exploded out, and Wen-zongzhu was dead in the most awful ways, almost like he was mummified. Aside from him, his sons were a bit addled from the incident and had minor injuries, but all others were unharmed even though the healing pavilion was largely destroyed.

The Wen tried to take A-Xian into custody while he was unconscious, which none of us allowed, and then they resorted to an attempt on his life, which A-Niang foiled, so they were all forced to leave except Wen Qing, who defected with her branch for some reason. Her family is being moved here, and she has the sweetest little didi, A-Ning—he and A-Lian play and take naps together, though he’s a few years older than her. Thankfully, A-Lian didn’t witness what occurred in the healing pavilion, but she’s been so worried about her erge.

But I digress; your brother is well, though sticking to A-Xian like glue in the days he was unconscious and even after he regained consciousness. A-Xian doesn’t remember anything about what happened, which is probably for the better. When he woke, he was frightened and confused, but as soon as your brother called his name he calmed. Apparently when he woke up it was a little like after he was first cursed and his memory was blank, but it all came back when Lan Wangji called his name. They are inseparable and I do not envy your uncle when it comes time for him to return to Gusu with your brother.

A-Xian felt terribly about the damage to the healing pavilion, and apologized to Kang-daifu when he learned of it, but Kang-daifu said better the place took the damage and not the people, and said he must have tried his best to protect everyone in such circumstances. That helped a lot, though A-Xian is still quite distressed that anyone died at all, which was certainly not his fault, not since Wen-zongzhu caused the backlash.

A-Die called for a discussion conference, and so Lotus Pier has so many visitors from the different clans, and so many of them are making these terrible assumptions about A-Xian that it’s hard to want to leave the family area. A-Lian has already kicked a sect leader in the shin for speaking badly about her gege, though I daresay I wished I could do the same, as Yao-zongzhu has a different terrible lie every time I have the misfortune of being near him. His latest is that A-Xian has enthralled us through dark magic and crafty tricks, as though his adoption is some sort of plot.

I know this isn’t befitting of a young lady of the gentry, but it’s so hard to listen to my didi be called a criminal when he doesn’t even remember what happened and Wen-zongzhu hurt him. A-Niang has taken to loudly telling anyone who says anything negative that someone who tries to harm a child like that deserves what they get, which is having some impact as the different sect leaders meet A-Xian and learn of his condition and the curse that has taken his memories.

That Xiansheng is firmly on A-Xian’s side has also helped matters, as he also witnessed everything and his virtuous reputation commands respect, but I worry terribly about what could befall my didi. It’s not his fault he was cursed, or that he was attacked.

Several Wen emissaries have arrived, only they all seem to be against each other, with conflicting ideas of who should be the next Wen-zongzhu. I’ve been keeping my ear open, and there are rumors that Wen Ruohan’s sons are imprisoned—but there are also those terrible rumors about A-Xian, so I don’t know what’s reliable. So I’m sneaking to listen to the discussion in a bit. I’ll continue this letter after.

Nie-zongzhu arrived and is on A-Xian’s side, said he’s a bright and kind boy whose curse is unfortunate and powerful. He says Wen-zongzhu shouldn’t have ignored the doctors and meddled with the curse, particularly since A-Xian is known to have confusion when meeting new people. He related how A-Xian called him by a strange title and then passed out, and that his amnesia leads him to confusion as he pieces together what comes to him from fragments of memory. He said that Wen-zongzhu’s decision to directly try to yank the resentful energy from A-Xian’s mind like he did implies he may have been experimenting with demonic cultivation.

He also chastised Yao-zongzhu for maligning A-Xian and told him only a coward spreads vile rumors about anyone, and that he’s done it against a child makes him the lowest of the low. Yao-zongzhu tried to say A-Xian must be faking and the resentful energy is being used to confuse us all and his adoption should be annulled because it was unacceptable to bring a degenerate into a gentry family, and A-Niang lost her temper. It got a bit violent, and A-Die reminded Yao-zongzhu of A-Xian’s parentage, both esteemed cultivators and one the daughter of Baoshan Sanren, and said that if he couldn’t stop maligning their son, he could find another main sect to sponsor the Yao clan.

Anyway, Yao-zongzhu tried to get other small sects to support him, calling A-Niang a barbarian for punching him, but he didn’t make for an imposing figure with a bloody face and even Ouyang-zongzhu, who’s supposed to be his close ally, wouldn’t stand with him, so he left in disgrace after Kang-daifu set his broken nose.

After that, A-Xian was made to speak even though he was still shaken by Yao-zongzhu’s words, and your brother accompanied him, bless him, saying it was only proper that he support his betrothed. A-Xian was told to relate what he remembered of what happened, which was nothing, only that he woke at Lotus Cove in the infirmary and was told he had been attacked while training, and he’s only regained bits and pieces of memory, and he passes out sometimes as a result and is a bit ill afterward. When asked about Wen-zongzhu, he said he didn’t remember even meeting him, that there was just a blank space in his mind and his head still hurts from what happened.

Then when Jin-zongzhu asked a question he said something I didn’t understand, something about hurting the civilians, and passed out. Your brother caught him before he could fall, and A-Niang carried him out and has barred access to anyone but family and approved doctors. While he was being taken out, Nie-zongzhu related what happened at the Cloud Recesses when he met A-Xian and he was similarly confused in speech and fell unconscious, so they’ve seen how it occurs, now, at least.

I’m afraid I missed the rest, as I focused on A-Xian. I have soup ready for when he wakes, and your brother remains at his side. Meng-ayi and Mo-guniang and their sons are ensconced in the family area as well and looking after him, too, since Jin-zongzhu is here and knows they’re here—he came and had a confrontation with A-Die about it back around A-Cheng’s birthday and they’re afraid he might try to force them to Lanling.

All witnesses are being called, so it will last several more days. Wen Qing intends to provide her testimony tomorrow, and says it will include things about her uncle that will not be taken well, but will hopefully shift the focus away from A-Xian and allow him some peace. No one has given him time to recover from Wen-zongzhu’s attack, even.

Wen Qing believes the Wen clan will ultimately split after an internal war, which is why her family is coming to Lotus Pier to join the Jiang sect. Her and her didi are being kept under guard in the family wing for now, but she’s been allowed to examine A-Xian with Kang-daifu’s oversight. She doesn’t believe her uncle did any lasting damage with whatever he did, thankfully, and Kang-daifu concurs.

While things are difficult, your uncle and my parents have things well in hand. Nie-zongzhu’s support is helping significantly. I think the whole of jianghu will be on shaky ground for a bit, and we’ll just have to be vigilant.

I hope this eases the worry I’m sure you’re feeling. Truly, I understand Xiansheng’s decision to keep the Lan heir safe, though I know you would prefer to be here with your didi.

Sincerely,

Jiang Yanli

———

Dear Jiang-guniang,

I thank you sincerely for the letter, which is understandably more detailed than the one Wangji sent; he was rather upset when he wrote it, as I believe your didi had only just awoken, and yours has clarified the situation a bit.

Wen-zongzhu’s attack on Jiang Wuxian is completely baffling, as it’s not clear what he was hoping to achieve in trying to forcibly remove the resentful energy. Even given what Jiang Wuxian said about Wen Qing, according to Wangji, his reaction was more like an attack, and it certainly wouldn’t give him more information. Everyone knows attempting to forcibly remove a curse can cause disastrous backlash—that’s why the Cloud Recesses keeps extensive records of known curses and how to remove them without harming the victim further! I’m relieved Jiang Wuxian was not more badly affected.

I dare not speculate on the possibility of Wen-zongzhu’s use of resentful energy, but that may be what caused Wen Qing’s defection and request for asylum from the Jiang, if true. That may be something she will be discussing during her testimony, but it’s far too serious an accusation to make idly. Resentful energy corrupts those who attempt to wield it, and has done so throughout history, which would sadly explain his disastrous decision as he would not be thinking clearly if he were corrupted thus.

I’m relieved that your didi is recovering, and that Wangji is helping him so much; I wonder if it might be prudent to keep them together, rather than trying to separate them, as they are definitely quite attached to one another and so far better together. Wangji was devastated when Muqin passed, and hadn’t come out of his shell at all until he met Jiang Wuxian, and the progress he’s been making since is wonderful to see. Part of me wishes I could have been the one to help him, since I’m his gege, but just seeing him improve is more than satisfactory for me, so I’m thankful to your didi.

From what occurred with Yao-zongzhu, it sounds rather like GusuLan will not sponsor him, either—Shufu has great respect and affection for Jiang Wuxian, and he would never be willing to aid someone willing to spread vicious gossip about him. What Yao-zongzhu was actually accusing Jiang Wuxian of was cultivating resentful energy, implying he is a demonic cultivator, and Shufu will never tolerate such an atrocious and completely false accusation. It is a serious charge and not one to make in idle supposition, as I’ve said, and it sounds as though he is trying to impress the Wen contingent for some reason, though I cannot speculate on his logic.

I am unsurprised by Yu-furen’s violent response, and glad she was the one to do it as I have no doubt Wangji would have otherwise, which would have caused far worse fallout! Wangji is very protective of Jiang Wuxian, and is incensed that anyone would accuse him of wrongdoing when he was clearly attacked.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Nie-zongzhu feels similarly about such slander, as he is a person who will not tolerate such conduct. I know this through his son, as Nie Mingjue is a good friend of mine. He has a little bit of a soft heart for my didi and insisted he could call him Dage (though Wangji refuses), and I daresay he may feel similarly about Jiang Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin when he meets them. He’s very protective of his own didi, too. I think you would enjoy meeting him if he’s at Lotus Cove for the discussion conference.

This is all to say that Yao-zongzhu will need to petition either Jin-zongzhu or whoever succeeds Wen Ruohan to sponsor his clan, and from your description it sounds like the latter may be unlikely. With Jiang Wuxian’s vocal confusion about Jin-zongzhu occurring as a public event, he may be sympathetic to Yao-zongzhu if he is offended, so that may be an area of concern in the future. That he knows the Jiang are sheltering two of his former paramours and unacknowledged sons may increase that risk, so perhaps keep watch for that.

It is concerning that the Wen heirs may have been imprisoned, but it’s equally possible some in the sect want that, while others are supporting either Wen Chao or Wen Xu and pitting them against each other. The Wen sect has grown almost too big and too quickly under Wen Ruohan, and the transition of power following his death was never going to be easy. Following his untimely death, it’s almost certainly complete chaos. Try not to take rumors to heart, as often they seem to be based on the agenda of the gossiper rather than reality—this is why the Cloud Recesses has a rule against gossip!

I hope Wen Qing’s testimony takes the focus off your didi, too. He deserves a chance to heal from what Wen-zongzhu did, and he’s just the sort of person to hide his hurt to try to help. That’s what we older siblings must look out for, and perhaps you may enlist other older siblings to help, like Wen Qing and Nie Mingjue. I will of course do the same at the Cloud Recesses when our brothers are here.

I completely understand missing the rest of the discussion, as your didi of course comes first. My guess is that other disciples were similarly watching the proceedings out of fear for him, and you might see if any are willing to share what you missed. Another resource might be the servants. They will be able to at least let you know if you missed anything concerning.

Thank you for the detailed letter, and I hope you will continue to keep me abreast of any developments. Reading this has eased some of my worries, now that I know that Nie-zongzhu has become a sort of ally. That added layer of protection brings me much relief.

Sincerely,

Lan Xichen

—————

There are so many little things going on here, including the fact that older!wwx is in fact a cultivator of resentful energy and they have no idea. A bit of irony, though he cultivates the ghost path rather than demonic cultivation.

For Wen Ruohan, I’m going more CQL in terms of budding demonic cultivator. He’s obviously already taken possession of one piece of Yin iron, which is now in the hands of an unstable sect on the brink of civil war, whoops! Surely this won’t become an issue in the future!

But the Dafan Wen have defected and are being evacuated into Yunmeng, the Nie are on the side of the Jiang because Nie-zongzhu met and liked Jiang Wuxian at the Cloud Recesses in what amounted to an accidental meeting. Yao-zongzhu gossiped as per usual and to avoid having to backtrack made an ill-advised power play to assuage his giant ego. And Jin Guangshan is pissed because the Jiang are sheltering his bitches and bastards, and now Jiang Wuxian has deliriously spoken of him killing Wen Qing and abusing the peasants, which certainly won’t ease his anger.

And poor Jiang Wuxian is like Wei Wuxian waking up in Mo Xuanyu’s body after 13 years and learning he’s apparently been blamed for all evil in the jianghu.

On a personal note, I’m working on dealing with issues involving my chronic conditions, mental health, and healthcare, and it might take all summer. I can only do what I can, and I have to accept that. It’s hard to accept being disabled.

Bright side is we found a sweet stray puppy and may adopt her if she’s not chipped.

This was simmering in the back of my mind while I worked on a chapter of “the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break” and was a surprisingly quick write. Thanks to adrian_kres for the beta!

Glossary:

a-die - dad (informal)

a-niang - mom (informal)

dage - eldest brother

didi - little brother

erge - second eldest brother

daifu - doctor

furen - madam

jianghu - cultivation world

muqin - mother (formal)

shufu - uncle

xiansheng - teacher

zongzhu - sect leader

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shoppncarticles · 10 months

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The Yamask Family

Just like what I said about Dark types, you know that you’re bound to get something noteworthy when it comes to Ghost types, and Yamask here doesn’t disappoint. This fledgling spirit is infamous inside and outside the Pokemon community for being explicitly stated to having being born from tortured human spirits, with the golden mask Yamask carries apparently being shaped after the face they had in life. The Pokedex makes sure to clarify Yamask retain all their memories of their former life, too.

What’s worse, Yamask are frequently seen mourning and weeping over their masks, as if lamenting the life they’ve since lost. This is even reflected in its design, with Yamask’s eye having a little extra nub on the bottom like a welling tear.

Never you mind that you can, y’know, mass produce Yamask from a breeding ground if you so chose. The whole story works a lot better if you just apply it to Yamasks found out in the wild, in desert ruins and such.

Things escalate quite a bit once Yamask evolves into Cofagrigus, a killer golden pharaoh-sarcophagus coated in ghostly shadow and wispy hands. Its idle animation shows that Cofagrigus can hide its face by retracting the plates of its headdress inwards, which it presumably does to camouflage itself.

Sure enough, Cofagrigus is said to dwell in vast, ancient tombs and graves, and snatch up would-be explorers and grave robbers, with the Pokedex stating Cofagrigus straight-up mummifies them on the spot. Despite that though, Cofagrigus is said to have a diet consisting of gold nuggets, meaning it at least doesn’t eat people. But then I ask why it bothers capturing people at all, especially when ANOTHER Pokedex entry says it has no memories of being human anymore. It probably doesn’t care about the sanctity of its former grave in that case. Surely someone here has got their information wrong.

Nevertheless, the idea of this haunted coffin that traps explorers and turns them into mummies is surprisingly morbid for the series, which helps make Cofagrigus all the more interesting. What’s more, while it’s never stated, it is entirely likely that those killed by Cofagrigus then become Yamask after their deaths, perpetuating the cycle of this species. I bring this up because of Yamask and Cofagrigus’s unique ability, Mummy, which replaces the enemy’s ability with itself whenever physical contact is made, like some twisted pharaoh’s curse. That’s a really cool detail, and even if the parallel was unintentional, I still like the similarity on display.

Not to copy Bogleech’s observations too much here, but I would like to also make note of how Cofagrigus is portrayed to locomote.

Usually, it just floats around slowly, but presumably if it wants to get anywhere in a hurry, it’ll do so by walking on its hands like a beetle! Or a maybe more specifically, a scarab. That seems more appropriate.

You can always go with this more goofy bipedal walk, if that’s more up your alley, though.

Score: 5/5 – PERFECT!

Amazingly morbid additions to the Ghost type, I dig these two and their lore a ton.

Things don’t stop there, because Yamask was also a Pokemon who received a regional form come Gen 8. Galarian Yamask here is a Ground/Ghost type, and is said to be the remnants of a vengeful spirit that was drawn to an cursed tablet and became stuck to it. Apparently, the shard is draining Yamask's 'dark power,' which I imagine can't be healthy for the poor thing. As healthy as a ghost can be, anyways.

I question why it isn’t a Rock/Ghost type considering the stone it’s attached to, but the Pokedex says it’s made from clay, something usually attributed to the Ground type in the series rather than Rock.

Oh well. Galarian Yamask is also never stated to be a human spirit in its ‘dex entries, but considering they’re still classified as the same species more or less I’m inclined to believe it still is one.

Galarian Yamask is one of the few regional forms to get a unique evolution as well - giving us Runerigus. What's lovely about Runerigus, at least in my opinion, is that unlike several of its fellow Gen 8 regional forms Runerigus actually has a purpose in being native to Galar. Runerigus seems to be based upon English Runestones, huge slabs of rock with grand symbols and pictures inscribed on them, several being like the serpent painted on Runerigus here. Half of them seem to be in Sweden rather than England, but hey, I'll take what I can get.

Runerigus is titled as the Grudge Pokemon, and seems to be the result of the previous Yamask spirit being fully absorbed into the cursed stone. That doesn't seem to have slowed it down at all, since Runerigus here has split it apart and made it into a shattered body, with its shadowy limbs weaving in and out of the stone. I really dig that single, uniquely shaped purple eye. Runerigus technically only has that as its singular facial feature and lacks a visible mouth like Cofagrigus, though the serpent painting helps give it some pareidolia to work with.

Outside of battle, or during certain attack animations, Runerigus will close itself up and reassemble the runestone, which is a cool detail. I imagine given the whole energy-draining thing that it must be very taxing for the spirit to be out and about at all times. It also probably works well as a defensive maneuver.

I juuust wish Runerigus had some character or recorded tendencies like Cofagrigus does. Cofagrigus has the benefit of time to provide itself several Pokedex entries to flesh itself out, whereas Runerigus only has the two of its home generation. I'd love to learn more about its lifestyle, like how the spirit has been degraded by the stone or how much stronger the cursing power of the stone is now that it's fueled by a consumed spirit, but oh well. It's still an extremely strong design regardless.

Oh yeah, speaking of curses, Runerigus has its own version of the Mummy ability called Wandering Spirit, where it transfers that ability onto the opponent whenever it makes contact with an attack, rather than the other way around. That somehow makes Runerigus feel like the more aggressive, offensive of the two whereas Cofagrigus is the defensive one.

Score: 5/5

[Gen 5 Archive]

#pokemon #pokemon review #yamask #cofagrigus #galarian yamask #runerigus

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weonlyneedfour · 9 months

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(Background by Ele.D)

The Grey Claw

Character created by: Francisco Armond

Home series: A Garra Cinzenta (1937-1938)

Title: Fascinora. Alter Ego: Thiago Fragas. Doctor Stone. Nationality: Brazilian. Occupation: Crimelord. Chemist. Group affiliation: His gang. Base of Operations: São Paulo, Brazil. Likes: His robot companion. Jazz. Attention. Dislikes: His arch-enemy. Dying. Being unrecognized. Skill: Resurrection. Revenge. Building models replicas of haunted castles.

Powers: None on record. Access to a vast arsenal of strange weapons, devices, death traps, and henchmen. Deadly claw gauntlets able to puncture concrete and tear through flesh and bone, below-average fighter otherwise. Chemical and bioelectrical genius. Built self-sustaining automatons. Devised a chemical formula able to resurrect the deceased, albeit without memories. Failed prototypes of said formula were used to transmute living and dead humans into mutant creatures, most frequently reminiscent of chimpanzees and gorillas. Possibly immortal.

The Grey Claw was the man who lit the world on fire in the process of trying to start a match.

The Grey Claw was among the first recorded black hats operating in Brazil, a master criminal of a sort thought to have died out after the end of World War 1. Distinguished by his grim yet flashy buccaneer grim reaper costume, his deep and nasally voice, and his appalling chuckle and sense of humor. The Grey Claw perpetrated a series of high-profile thefts, murders and bombings at his debut, quickly consolidating São Paulo’s criminal underworld and newfound industrial advancements under his grip and holding the country in a grip of terror for over a year. And this was but the start, a cheap façade over his true plans of alchemical research and global domination.

Notorious for his mysterious technology and bizarre resources, The Grey Claw’s highly advanced arsenal included early prototypes of television screens, recording devices across the entire city, mummified corpses rigged to spasm and perform simple tasks, rampaging mutant apes, and FLAG, a titanic murderous automaton bodyguard that rendered The Claw untouchable, and whom The Claw displayed a bizarre degree of camaraderie with. Constantly outfoxing the police and with little to no white hats to oppose him, The Grey Claw eventually achieved his world-changing breakthrough: perfecting a formula that could resurrect the dead.

His success would be seemingly short-lived, as a police raid on his underground lair quickly buried the Claw’s discoveries. His persistent enemy, the police inspector Higgins, would find the corpses of his fellow officers, one of the Claw’s mutant apes, and the Claw himself being mauled to death by FLAG, as Higgins had his men bring down the machine and the surrounding cave with grenades, burning the laboratory and notes in the process. The Grey Claw was identified post-mortem as the famed young chemist, Doctor Thiago Fragas, said to be driven to crime by his sheer hatred of his former partner, Professor Curberry. Curberry was identified as the mutant ape corpse in the basement, and with all knowledge of The Claw's research scrubbed from public record, for many years that was assumed to be end of the sadistic crook’s reign of terror, as both Higgins and “The Dame in Black”, the Claw’s resurrected victim-turned-partner in crime, eventually took all knowledge of The Grey Claw’s research into their graves.

But The Grey Claw would return over the following years. Although Doctor Thiago Fragas remains buried, sightings began emerging locally as well as internationally during the war years, with a man wearing the original costume last seen following in the wake of The Golden Bat’s psychic meltdown and disappearance. Variants in costume and body type over the decades indicate that the Grey Claw has become a mantle, worn by criminals pursuing the original’s infamy to their ends. Fascist coalitions, anarchist gangs, doomsday cultists, black hats and white hats alike have turned The Claw’s image to their own ends, using it as a persona with an extra layer of anonymity to escape accountability, and with little interest in the original’s great scientific genius, which would be the most unforgivably offensive part of it all to him.

Some among these believe that Thiago Fragas never died at all, and that he’s merely biding his time, tinkering with the next great electric brain of his design, merged inseparably in the shadows of the city, if not outright merged with the city itself, waiting for the next perennial motivator. Waiting for the next target of his eternal hatred. That he waits for a worthy arch-nemesis, to at last take his throne as the world’s greatest villain.

Or that perhaps he waits, only because when death itself is beyond reach, there's not much else you can do.

#hero forge #supervillain #the grey claw #we only need four #weon4 #o garra cinzenta #francisco armond #brazilian superheroes #brazil

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tonystarketernal3000 · 2 years

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Chris Hackett realizes, years too late, he had turned into his mother.

After Silas was killed, curing everyone (though the parental Hacketts were still deceased), Chris reflects on his Ma telling him that his relations with his older brother, Travis, were not his fault, and that Travis was to blame, despite Chris initiating them every time. She said how "Travis should have done better". Refusing to accept he had been raping his older brother for nearly two years, he lashes out at Travis, saying that "Ma was right" and "you got me fucked up." Travis merely gets quiet before apologizing and leaving.

Years later, Chris and his son, Caleb, have moved away from North Kill. Though living in the same city, they don't live together.

While going through a box of his sister's things, Caleb Hackett finds a series of letters addressed to their Grandma, Constance. They go over how Kaylee was upset about her grandmother's actions with how she treated their family, notably Travis, their older uncle. Caleb decides to show the letters to his dad, who initially dismisses him, not wanting to bring back more painful memories of losing his daughter. When Caleb says he wants to visit his Uncle Travis, Chris demands to know why and Caleb only tells his dad to read the letters.

In the letters, Kaylee describes how she was upset with how Constance treated their family, accusing her of weaponising her husband and children against each other. She wrote how she was disgusted about how her grandma treated Travis and not only allowed, but actively encouraged her husband and other children to treat him. She admits that she knew about Constance mentally and sexually abusing her oldest son to the point he truly believed he deserved it, and that he was desperate to gain her approval. She also wrote how she was going to tell everything to her dad, so he could see the monster his mother truly was and cut her from their lives.

After realising that he had treated his older brother how his mother had, using him for pleasure while being infected, convincing Travis it was his own fault, Chris grows desperate to contact his brother to talk to him, finally admitting to himself that no one was to blame for his actions but himself.

Initially, he tries his brother's old mobile phone number, which immediately notifies him of deactivation. He then travels back to North Kill to the police station. The receptionist, Ms. Craft, immediately recognizes him and is happy to see the middle Hackett brother after 11 years. She asks what brought him back and he says that he was there to visit his brother.

Confused, Craft tells him that his brother quit over a decade ago, recalling him say how he was ready to move out of North Kill since the rest of his family was gone.

Chris thanks her and leaves the station.

He travels to the cabin Travis used to stay at after moving out of their parents' house, finding weeds several feet high and the cabin falling apart. He approaches and tries to door, noting it's locked. He peers in through the slits the rotting wood has caused, seeing nothing but old junk and decay. Laughing, he wonders if the spare key is still beneath the porch light, genuinely surprised that not only is it there, but it still works for the lock.

He moves through the cabin, chuckling at items that bring back old memories, but wondering why Travis didn't take some of them when he moved. He goes to the kitchen, where he sees a rusting pot on the stove, along with a decaying box of pasta. Around the kitchen is nothing but decomposed food and decaying kitchenware.

Confused as to why everything was left in disarray, he enters the living room. There he sees a skeleton partially covered by the mummified flesh of his older brother.

Disassociation initially sets in and he calls his brother's name as he steps forward, unintentionally kicking a dust-covered handgun across the floor that was merely feet away from the couch.

For over 10 years, Travis Hackett sat rotting in a cabin, with no one questioning where he was, whether he was well or even alive. Yet, all around were his mother's words:

"Ain't no one gonna care if you die, 'cause you ain't no good boy."

#travis hackett #chris hackett #the quarry #constance hackett #fanfic #i legit made myself sad #i want to flesh this out as a fic #but if not #enjoy my depressing-ass head canon

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star-archer · 2 years

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No Exit [Chapter Seven]

Summary: Bucky hates snow, but a snowstorm on the way to his sister’s memorial keeps him overnight at a mountain lookout rest area with a motley crew of strangers: a trucker, a businessman, some roadtrippers, and You, an apparent runaway full of secrets. When strange things start happening, a light-hearted lock-in turns dark and dangerous. (Loosely based on the 2022 film of the same title.)

Pairing: Post FatWS!Bucky x amnesiac!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 3047

Warnings: violence and gore, memory loss, angst, brief mentions of drug abuse, weapons, torture

A/N: Thank you all so much for your patience with this chapter. I spent the last two weeks traveling like mad, and I'm finally settled for a short while. Thank you, also, for all of the sweet love I've gotten on this series! It really means so much to me to see so many of you enjoying it. This is the final chapter. Hope you enjoy! Thanks, so much, for reading xo

Series Masterlist | star-archer masterlist

★★★

Bucky had free fallen before, an eery mirror image of this events. Trees whooshed by, limbs in a torrent of wind storm and snow flurries. The snow, God, everything touched white and icy and chilling his skin, his muscle, his bones, biting to the marrow. He hated snow. He grit his teeth and slid across linoleum, tile, to free fall, vibranium arm thrown out for you, or to catch his fall, or whichever came first, and he felt the zing of fingertips catching on something, though with that arm, he couldn’t be sure what.

Until his eyes adjusted to the dark and the light, and he realized he wasn’t in free fall. He had skid to a stop, upper body hovering over the ledge, your weight dangling from his strong arm. You stared up at him, horrified, scrambling, pained. He’d caught your bad wrist, a mummified injury. Terrified of unraveling it, he swung out his other arm for your underarm and attempted to haul you upward, back into the lookout area.

The strain on his shoulders and chest and abs was immense, but he was a super soldier, after all. And it seemed like the effects of the drugs had worn off. He heaved you upward, felt the crack of bones beneath his hold, and pulled you up and out of harm. You groped at tile, scrambling upright as the gaping hole of glass began to crumble with no weight to hold it up. He followed you, hand to your middle, and the two of you slipped down a bloody hallway until you reached glass covered cots near the front entrance. You’d shattered every bit of the place.

Bucky dumped the glass from one cot, pulled it away from the frigid chill of the windows, down the hall near the restroom entrances. You had remained behind, staring at your companions where they lay in their cots, blood dripping to the tiled floor below. Bucky tugged at your fingertips until your focus pulled back to him, and he tucked you into his chest, shielding you from the horror all-too-familiar to himself.

With gritted teeth and ringing ears, he led you to his cleared cot, sitting between you and the corpses of a horrific night. You stared through him, the look in your eyes almost as lifeless. He checked you for injury, surface wounds, shook glass from your hair, the wrinkles in your sweatshirt, pulled a few shards from your cheek and temple. You winced, a good sign at your coherency.

“Are you alright?” Bucky spoke to you, but he barely heard his own voice through the ringing. His throat felt gruff from screaming.

You didn’t respond. Your teeth chattered. You winced again when he checked your arm.

With a sigh, he pulled you into him, tucking your head under his chin, pressing you to him as tightly as he could, for your warmth, for his sanity. He breathed in the raw stink of iron and tried to close his eyes and block out the death and destruction that seemed to follow him. You shivered against him and he tried to hone in on you, center himself on you, on being present, on waiting for Sam Wilson to save your life.

—

Daylight broke in the East, and you allowed Bucky to hold you to his warm chest. Even though you didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve the love and the care and the compassion he’d shown you for the past few hours. You’d hoped to freefall into the abyss, forget all of the memories that had surged back the moment Murphy fired those shots in Karla and Dorian, but Bucky saved you, and you thought maybe God, or whoever, had a greater punishment plan than this.

Your teeth chattered, and you throat was on fire, as though all of your vocal chords had radiated against one another so hard they split in two. This was nothing like that first time. This was hell, torture, born of fear and anxiety instead of agony. Innocent people died because of you, too many to count, and it was terrifying.

The Sergeant around you comforted at too loud a volume, flesh arm rubbing at your back and arm with so much friction it almost hurt, but you welcomed the pain as a respite from the sights and sounds of the rest area around you. You had no idea how he’d survived, the other two melting into a puddle of blood at the sound of your screams. Bucky wouldn’t let you turn your head to look, to see their corpses a hundred or so feet away.

You heard the whipping of wind outside, the crackling of branches, the drip of snowmelt onto hoods, the tinkle of glass, Bucky’s heavy and steady heartbeat under your fingertips. You felt the dull ache of a break in your arm. Something had shattered when he caught you. You smelled the reek of death and bodily fluids under the scent of his sweat and that sting of peppermint toothpaste.

And then another sound creeped in, quiet at first, at a great distance, but eventually the whirring started again. It was in the back of your skull, the panic under your sternum, the spinning of blades and the cascade of snow. Bucky heard it too.

He peeled you from him, his warmth turning to a terrifying chill as he pulled a gun from the back of his pants. When he’d managed to pick it up, you weren’t sure, but you stayed put at the request of his outstretched hand. He inched toward the shattered doors, boots crackling on glass on tile, and then he dropped his weapon and said, “It’s about damn time.”

A tall man in a white suit stepped into view, grasping Bucky around the neck to look at his injuries. Blood poured from the soldier’s right ear and had dried against the scruff of his jaw.

“I’m fine,” Bucky yelled, and you winced. He couldn’t hear himself. “But she needs medical attention, immediately!” He waved your direction.

The man in white turned to you and you saw a familiar emblem of a circled star on his chest. Captain America, something in your mind reminded you. Although this wasn’t the man that had graced television screens with a forlorn look the day your parents disappeared. He approached slowly and kneeled at your feet. Dark eyes crossed your features from under red glasses, worry etched into the creases of wide lips.

“Can you hear me?” He asked.

You nodded, emotion stinging in your eyes.

“Okay. My name is Sam Wilson, and I’m here to help you. The roads are bad, and we’ll need to air lift you to the nearest hospital. You’re safe now, I promise.” And then he turned to the carnage.

“Four dead,” Bucky shouted, approaching you and Sam. “Let’s get her onto the jet and then we can talk.” He turned to you. “Can I carry you?”

You permitted Bucky to lift you, effortless, warm, tender, and you kept your head tucked into his shoulder as the world moved beneath you. The sting of bright white squinted your eyes, and you shielded yourself further into the super soldier until you felt yourself gingerly set onto a gurney. An unfamiliar voice spoke from behind a barreled shoulder.

“Holy shit, Sergeant, what’s going on?”

Bucky ran a hand down your cheek before turning to the other suited man on board, opening your view to the high-tech jet surround. There were too many gadgets and gizmos to fathom. It all felt a bit like a science fiction film, but the air felt clean and no longer smelled of blood. You felt safe. You were safe.

“Nice suit, Torres.”

“You like that?” The new stranger, Torres, split into a wide grin beneath his own red goggles. He wore a red and grey suit, also fairly familiar, although the young man wasn’t setting off any alarm bells. “Who’s this?” He gestured to you.

Bucky turned back to you then, softer than you’d seen the burly man. His fingertips brushed the hair from your eyes. This was the first time you’d seen his shoulders drop in relief. Worry still etched his brow, but the smile tugging at the corners of his lips was genuine, sweet, heartfelt. “This is Torres. He’s going to take care of you. He’s annoying, but all around a good kid.”

You glanced over him to smile at the younger man. He grinned back at you, hand raised in a greeting.

“I need to help Sam, but I’ll be right back. Alright? I promise. I’m not going to leave you.”

Meeting those baby blues again, you reached to squeeze his hand.

“Atta girl.” He leaned foreward to press his lips softly between your brows, and then with one more squeeze, he was exiting the jet.

—

Rays of sun pooled into the living room, casting a honeyed glow on grey speckled carpet. Dust danced in the light, and Bucky allowed his eyes to unfocus while the muffled sounds of his surroundings carried on. His mind was miles away, over the mountains, back to the Avengers complex where you were undoubtedly comfortable and alone.

You’d assured him you’d be alright, that he needed to be there for Becca’s memorial, and Sam fervently agreed, flew him there himself. And the service was beautiful, casket cast in the same honeyed glow, coated in a bouquet of flowers as beautiful as the woman herself. Although the image printed and wreathed wasn’t the sister he remembered, but an old woman. Glowing blue eyes, curled and graying hair, a woman who lived a long, beautiful life, surrounded by her loved ones.

Bucky’d agreed to attend the reception after the jests of his family. He received too many elbows to the ribs, schmoozing from great nephews he didn’t even know existed. A few young girls bat their eyelashes at him, as though they didn’t realize they were flesh and blood. A handful of people kept their distance with glares and whispers, the ever-present reminder that he was a murderer, a traitor, a disappointment.

“Bucky,” a voice called from far off, stirring him from his daze, and he blinked at the falling dust for a moment before a soft hand stirred his metal shoulder. His eyes focused on the smiling face of a great-great niece, he thought. Evelyn? He remembers hearing the reception was held at her home.

She smiled like Becca, sweet with a hint of mischief, like snow ball fights with Steve. Bucky’s heart clenched in his chest, and Evelyn beckoned him to join her in a back room. He grabbed his beer from the side table and followed her down a narrow hallway, walls full of memories he’d never had the blessing to be apart of.

Evelyn was built like Mom. All hips and round, favoring her left heel. A soft smile itched at the corner of his mouth. He followed her through the doorway of a back bedroom. A stack of coats rested on the guest bed. Beneath it, Evelyn procured a folded quilt, a patriotic pallet that was gingerly placed into his hand.

“Grandma Becks made this for you. Sorry about the wear and tear. Mom and the Uncles used it before me and my brother. It’s had a lot of love.”

Bucky ran his fingertips over the soft fabric. She was right, it was well-loved, the colors faded and whites stained. Emotion rested in his throat, bobbed at his Adam’s apple. He tried in vain to clear it away. “You should keep it,” his voice was gruff. “It holds a lot of memories.”

Evelyn shook her head, pushed it further into his chest until he was hugging it. “She made it for you. She told us every time we wore it as a cape. ‘That’s Uncle Bucky’s quilt!’” She flashed him those mischievous eyes again. “There’s a box of old crap in the garage I need you to take too. I’m running out of room, and I’ll probably have another one to load off on you at Easter.”

Bucky laughed at that.

—

The concrete walls of the Avengers Compound (rebuilt, so you’d been told), we’re boring and grey and made you feel cold and alone. The hallways were vast, dormitories stacked on top of each other. You were surprised at the amount of people you passed on your way to physical therapy every morning, a network of agents and special skilled alike conducting meetings and drills and protocols. And yet with each group you passed, you felt alone again.

You weren’t alone, of course. Sam and Bucky had only been gone a couple of days, and Joaquin Torres didn’t let you eat a meal on your own. He just chatted on and on about his adventures in the Air Force, and since your vocal chords didn’t allow you to chime in on your own troubled past, you just smiled and nodded along, sipping protein shakes through a straw to ease the strain on your throat.

You had physical therapy every day, for your arm and your voice, and both hurt and left you exhausted. And mostly you wandered the hallways, hoping for a glimpse at someone sparring in the gym or flying past windows, anything to relieve you from the headaches that came with flashbacks of the last five years of your life.

Your powers had manifested at the discovery of the loss of your parents. Experts at the compound called it a Sonic Scream, which felt gimmicky, and you hated the tests and x-rays you’d been subjected to since you arrived. Someone had reassured you they were searching for your parents. You remembered them, their names, where they lived, but since the return of all the Blipped people, many had been displaced and several unfortunate casualties had occurred.

You killed your grandmother though, with that first Sonic Scream. It was a reflex, happened like the snap of a finger, and the frequency of your noise had shattered the windows and jellied the contents of a person’s skull. At least, that’s what you read on the reports you’d snatched when Bucky had left you alone for half a second to chat with Sam. That’s what had happened to Murphy, to Kenneth, to poor sweet Karla and Dorian, despite their unfortunate deaths moments before.

Bucky was saved by the serum, but it was unclear if he’d ever be able to hear out of his right ear again. His left was saved by that Vibranium arm of his.

Murphy had hoped to recapture you for OsCorp. You still weren’t clear on what that was, exactly, but that’s where you’d been. They were zapping your memories, holding you in sound proof cells, doing tests on you. They were creating a weapon out of you. Kenneth just got caught in the cross fire, an innocent young man offered the right price to haul you back to your destination.

You hoped your voice never came back.

You walked grey hallways, nursed your headache with temple rubs, and stepped into a window well when you heard the scuffle of conversations headed your direction. You glanced out at the grounds, grass turning green with the prospects of spring and sunshine.

“There she is!” The familiar rumble of Sam Wilson’s voice thumped at your chest, and you stepped back into the hall to watch his approach. Broad shouldered Sam, with his gap-toothed grin, the shake of his chest as he laughed, and beside him, Sergeant Bucky Barnes.

Something inside of you leapt at the sight of him. You wanted to run to him, let him scoop you up in his embrace, bury your face into the scruff of him. But you didn’t. You waited patiently, near the window, and watched with baited breath at his pink lips turned upward into a shy smile.

“Hey,” he breathed. You waved.

“You’re not allergic to cats, are you?” Sam asked, pulling your attention from those deep blues, and you frowned and followed both of their gazes to the precious kitten curled up into Bucky’s arm. White as snow, a stark contrast from the black and gold and purple of his arm. White fur already littered his black t-shirt. You raised you eyebrows and reached out to run a knuckle down it’s tiny spine. It purred against the warmth of Bucky’s chest.

“My great great niece’s cat had kittens in her garage.” He explained, cheeks pinched a timid pink. “This is Alpine.”

You sucked your cheeks in to quell the burst of laughter threatening to strain your vocal chords. It hurt, but so did the excitement crawling up your chest.

“I’m going to let you three have a moment.” Sam winked at you before giving Alpine a scratch and disappearing down one of the vast concrete halls.

Bucky didn’t speak again until the squeak of Sam’s sneakers was almost inaudible. “How are you?” His voice was a low rumble in his chest. His breath fanned your face.

You shrugged, didn’t look at him. You couldn’t answer him, didn’t know how you were. You couldn’t ask him the same. So you just leant into the warmth of him, peering over his arm to the sleeping bundle curled against him.

“I just um…” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to thank you. For encouraging me to go.”

You smiled then, glanced up between your lashes with a nod.

“My family is well… family,” he snorted, and you felt the familiar swell of admiration for him. But then his eyebrows turned down in worry. “Any news on yours?”

You bit your lip, shook your head, focused back on the kitten.

“We’ll find them. I’ll find them.”

And you knew he meant it. Fighting back any emotion threatening to spill over, you slipped your fingers around his forearm, tucking them between kitten and chest, hoping the gesture itself would convey your trust in him, your gratitude.

He whispered your name, pulling your gaze back to those tender blue eyes. He smelled of leather boots and oil and kitten. His forehead was stitched with butterfly bandages, and the scruff on his jaw had grown in thick and grey. He licked his pink lips, chest warm beneath your knuckles, and leaned in to seal all of his promises with a kiss.

The End

#bucky x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic series #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #no exit fic #bucky barnes wip series

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bungajurang · 1 year

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A Stratum of Nightmare

This episode of Junji Ito Maniac: Japanese Tales of the Macabre left me feeling nauseous and uncomfortable. I hope it won’t turn into a traumatic memory. I will never see sedimentary layers the same way again.

These pictures below are screenshot from the episode. Beware of spoilers, I literally retell the whole story here. Warning: body horror.

Title of the episode: Layers of Fear

The episode started with a group of researcher, which I believe are a group of archaeologists, found a unique sediment layer. One of them pointed out how the strata looked much like a human face.

Different human tradition treat those who deceased differently. Some of the funeral rites that’s ever recorded in human history are ground burial, cremation, and aquamation. The body of the deceased may be put inside a coffin, a casket, or wrapped in a plain cloth. However, there were (maybe there’s still) tradition where the deceased are covered with layers of clay or being mummified to preserve their body.

Naturally, a sediment layer formed by a weathering process which loosened minerals such as pieces of rock and biological matter like trunks, leaves and corpses. In this case, the group of archaeologist found a sedimentary layer which has a trace of the burial process using clay. The body that was buried there affected the formation of sediment layer.

For a second I forgot that I was watching a horror animation series. I got carried away by the opening which remind me of my field practicum in my sophomore year in college. My group of class went to a natural laboratory in Magelang where we learnt about soil and sedimentary process. For that matter, we were taught about how to dig a site of observation. We dug a rectangular shape which pretty much looks like a tomb, but larger and deeper, and we got inside to analyse each stratum we found.

It was revealed later in the episode that one of the archaeologists took home the skull they found. He didn’t know the skull was cursed. A fecking classic; a scientist found something interesting in the field, take it home and get cursed. The curse was passed on to his family. But only his daughters got the bane, it made their bodies become layered. The first daughter has a layered teeth. But he and his wife never realised that their second daughter is also cursed.

Long story short, the daughters and the mum got into a car accident. It was this scene that scared me: the accident tear the second daughter’s face, but she’s fine because there were layers inside her body. To put it clearly, her body is made of layers of skin. It is as if she has no organs inside her, yet she still bleeds. The layers indicate her age, just like how it works on a tree. She’s 20 years old, so there were 20 layers.

The horror doesn’t stop here.

The mum started hearing her daughter’s voice when she was 2 years old. The 2 years old version sounded in pain and wants her mum to free her as she was located in the deepest layer. The mum peeled her daughter’s body layer, one by one. After she reached the last layer, the 2 years old that keep calling her was just the head, the remaining parts are the present body version of her daughter. The mum got frustrated and started to tear her own face, thinking that she might get cursed too. Well, unfortunately, she was normal. Poor the first daughter, as she has to take care of her sister (or what is left of her sister) and the mum with her face wrapped in wound dressing.

Regardless of the body horror and painful scene, I have to admit that this episode left me in awe. Junji Ito is a crazy genius. This episode is his most gory animation in this series, closely followed by the Tomie episode (honestly I can’t decide which one is the goriest. Both are fecking terrific). The scene where the mum peeling away her daughter's face, and the painful screams of her daughter together with the excited yells of her 2 year old version, is a terrific macabre scene and definitely will not leave my mind for a while.

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mummy-bi-bi-bi · 6 months

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Mummified Memories Masterlist

Fandom: The Mummy (1999)

Main Pairing: Ardeth Bay/Original Female Character

Summary: As an orphan, Sadie has struggled to survive Egypt her whole life, but she always survives, nonetheless. Her skills are tested when Rick comes knocking on their door after escaping the noose in prison. He's got a job for them, and when have those jobs ever gone wrong?

The desert awaits them, along with something else shrouded with mystery. Rick recognizes the men in dark robes and facial tattoos from his previous journey to Hamunaptra, but for Sadie, her experience goes far deeper than that, and not even the undead can make her forget it.

Tag: # mummified memories series

(Posted on AO3)

Full series (WIP)

desert flowers are the most adaptable (Complete)

isn't it strange (Chapters 3/6)

Other fun stuff for the series:

"Laughing with the enemy" edit

Alex O'Connell "My Family" edit

Incorrect quotes

Ai generated images of OC

Disclaimer: I do not own the Mummy's plot, lore, and/or characters. All rights go to their respective creators. I only own my original character, Sadie.

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avoogi · 3 years

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Songs in the PJO TV Show

OKAY SO I KNOW THE FANDOM WANTS A BUNCH OF SONGS IN THE PJO TV SERIES, BUT I'VE GOT SOME FOR THE LAST OLYMPIAN EVEN THOUGH IT'LL TAKE A COUPLE YEARS

✨just so you know, i do not like luke in any way, shape or form. he does not deserve my forgiveness for many reasons that are clear to see. thank you.✨

- Centuries by Fall Out Boy

Okay, I know this one is popular and it would be great for a battle scene or whatever, but LOOK AT THE LYRICS

>Some legends are told

>Some turn to dust or to gold

DUST OR TO GOLD? DO THEY MEAN THEY DISSOLVE INTO THE GOLD DUST WHEN THEY DIEEE???

>But you will remember me

>Remember me for centuries

The whole reason of the war was because people get forgotten by their parents and minor gods weren't appreciated

>And just one mistake

>Is all it would take

>We'll go down in history

oKaY literally anything could be reprimanded for by the gods, even the slightest mistake OR the war is a mistake and the Titan War was a famous war among the demigods at camppppp

>Mummified by my teenage dreams

THE NIGHTMARES PEOPLE THE NIGHTMARES

>And I can't stop 'til the whole world knows my name

LUKE? ARE YOU THEREEE? (i still hate u bruv i will never forgive u)

//anyways, next song....

- House of Memories by Panic! At the Disco

Do I really have to explain this one?

> I don't want to be afraid

>The deeper that I go

> It takes my breath away

Does bathing in the dam river styx sound familiar to anyone?

>And when your fantasies

>Become your legacies

The demigods are literally the children of gods that were known to be myths (ik they are but still). The kids didn't even know the gods were real and then they happen to be the children of them. Therefore, fantasies turned into reality.

>Promise me a place

>In your house of memories

Does ANYONE recall Ethan's last words?

"Deserve better... If they just... had thrones-"

THE THRONES WERE THE MAJOR WAY THE GODS WERE REMEMBERED. Also, Luke and Ethan just wanted everyone to be remembered.

thanks for listening to my ted talk. i will leave now.

#percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson disney+#percy jackson tv show #percy jackson #annabeth chase #ethan nakamura #luke castellan #silena beauregard #charlie beckendorf #camp halfblood #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus #the titan war #songs #disney+#tv show songs #pjo show

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cm-top-10 · 3 years

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C.M. Top 10: Characters who have suffered a fate worse than death

Warning: The following top ten may contain disturbing &/or gore images. Along with possible spoilers so for your safety & others read at your own risk or don't read it. You've been warned...

1. RWBY - the Hound's true face

In Vol.8 of RWBY, Ruby & friends struggled for life facing the dangerous Hound Grimm. After hurting it, Ruby then horrifically discovers that this particular Grimm was in fact once a person who also has silver eyes like Ruby. But he was warped & deranged by Salem's dark control. Who was this silver eyed Faunus? & why would such an evil being gain by turning him into a Grimm abomination besides hunting victims down?

Better question is are there others like him...?

2. League of Legends - the tale of Fiddlesticks

The story of Fiddlesticks is one of horrors told to children to scare them. Many were told but this one was the most feared.

Long ago he was once a lonely farm man who kept to himself & stayed to his crop fields paying no mind to anyone in the village town. But during a time of drought, famine & poor cropping, the villagers of his hometown blamed him because of his appearance & left him bound to a post to starve to death.

He was then attacked & eaten by a murder of crows, pecking his insides till there was nothing left of him. But one horrid night he revived as a terrorizing living scarecrow of sorts that hunted down anyone at night who has terror in their hearts.

& thus he became known as Fiddlesticks the Ancient Fear or better known as the Terror...

3. Transformers Prime - Cliffjumper returns as a Terrorcon

After his return from deep space, Megatron finds a dark shard from the Blood of Unicron. For the legend told that it holds the power to revive the dead, but at a horrible cost. When Megatron used it on Cliff's corpse, he was reborn a Terrorcon Zombie, a mindless creature who's only instinct is to destroy anything in it's path...

He was then finally put to rest by Arcee & their team. Hopefully now he's finally at peace.

4. Digimon Frontier - Koichi becomes Duskmon

In the old series of Digimon Frontier a young man named Koichi Kimura is chosen by the Digital Spirit of Darkness to be the next Digi Destined. However an evil digimon named Cherubimon had bigger plans for him by turning him into the Digital World's most dangerous Hybrid Digimon, becoming the infamous Duskmon. A being born from the pure form of Darkness, warped into a corrupted warrior of evil.

& was brainwashed to hunt down the other Digi Destined. Thankfully he managed to break free from Cherubimon's control & his Digital Spirit becomes pure again.

5. Diablo - Diablo's possessions

Diablo Lord of Terror had possessed humans before for centuries. But he can only possess those who are compatible to his control. & only two were the most useful to his whims.

During Diablo 2 he took hold of King Leoric's son Albrecht after instilling much fear into his soul. But he was then slain & imprisoned into the Black Soulstone for decades. But decades later after his death he broke free again to possess his own daughter Leah becoming the perfect vessel for his power to literally break the Heavens.

However his plans for domination came to an end when the Nephilim stopped him to avenge Leah. Wherever her spirit is I truly hope it's at peace...

6. Star Wars Rebels - The Inquisitor's force spirit enslaved by Darth Vader

After the Grand Inquisitor fell to his death during his battle with Kanan, his dark spirit was imprisoned in an old High Republic Jedi Temple by Darth Vader to serve as a reminder to those who fail him. & to be used as a tool to trap any possible Jedi seeking knowledge of the Force.

For even in his last words "there are things worse than death..."

7. Kaijudo - Ray's father mutated into a kaiju human hybrid

In the Kaijudo series Ray's father discovered the truth about his missing memories & learned that the Choten was lying & using him the whole time. However he was too late to stop him & was mutated by his Forced Evolution Serum. Over time his poor creature Humonculon mutated allover his body becoming Humonguru. Luckily Ray found a way to cure both his father & creature, turning them back to normal.

Hopefully nothing like this ever happens to others again.

8. Wakfu - Nox's Mindless Puppets

While Grougaloragran was battling Noximilian. Nox summons his mindless puppets Marama, Frisco & Tartufo. They were powerful warriors who managed to help take the mighty dragon down in the end. Question is who were these warriors in their past life before Nox turned them into mummified Xelor Puppets?

They must've been good men once, probably legendary warriors of their time.

Sadly we may never know their stories, but hopefully these poor bastards are finally at peace not being controlled by Nox anymore.

9. DC Universe - the Soultaker

The ancient katana blade the Soultaker or ソウルテイカー (Souruteikā) was forged by a legendary swordsman Muramasa. The blade is said to possess the power of claiming the souls of it's evil victims it cuts through & kills. It is also known to trap them inside it's enchanted blade never to be freed.

However rather they deserve it or not it's still a fate worse than death...

10. Seven Deadly Sins - Meliodas' curse

After Meliodas & Elizabeth battled their parents the Goddess Queen & the Demon King. They both cursed their own children for ever falling in love with each other & betraying their clans. Elizabeth cursed by the Demon King made her to die & reincarnate over & over, losing her memories of Meliodas. However Meliodas suffered a curse just as worse than hers, for whenever he dies & returns from death, his emotions become consumed & turns back into the bloodthirsty warrior he used to be.

Will he be able to be the new king of the Demon Race & break both their curse? We will soon wait & see...

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trashmenofmarvel · 4 years

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Branded - Chapter 28

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky settles into his new life in Hell.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

The years were tallied and the rare nights were marked, and Bucky did so, but not alone. He never told the voice to leave again, and it had stayed by his side ever since.

The road back to himself had been a painful one, but the voice never let him down. It told him things about himself he couldn’t remember, and it wasn’t until his mind began to heal and he remembered things for himself that he fully trusted the voice. Everything it had told him was true. His curiosity for the nameless entity only grew over time, made stronger by the fact it was so secretive.

Somedays, they were simply amicable companions. Even friends. It reminded Bucky of the comradery he shared with the Howling Commandos, and it made his chest ache. He thought of Steve, and the pain was nearly unbearable, so he tried not to think of him at all. Maybe he would later, after Bucky escaped this cursed world. If he ever did.

The voice still wouldn’t tell him who it was or even what it was. Bucky was disconcerted by the fact that as he regained his memories, it was possible the voice was not even real. After everything he’d endured, after Zola had robbed him of his humanity and Lukin had shaped him onto a monster, Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if he was as mad as a hatter.

He also decided he didn’t care. He was in Hell—if not the biblical one than very close to it—and he couldn’t survive without an ally. Imaginary or not.

There were other things that lived in this world. Terrible things as large as mountains, roaming in the distance and leaving valleys of sand in their wake. There were also smaller demons, but still considerably larger than Bucky. He avoided them when he could, but it wasn’t always possible. In those moments, he’d either defend himself until they ran, or he killed them with his bare claws.

He never ate the flesh. One, he didn’t know if it was edible, and two, it felt… cannibalistic. A large part of Bucky was from this place, as evidenced by the fact he never needed to feed the demon side of him. Thank Christ for that. If it was between dying and getting fucked by one of those creatures out there, he would have gladly offed himself.

But he never had to. Why would he, when all the demonic energy he needed was right here, beaming down from the never-ending sunlight. It was harsh, and the human part of him wanted to seek shelter from it, but the demon was more than happy to bask in its warmth. Sated in a way it had rarely been back on Earth.

As he grew bolder and explored his “territory,” Bucky came upon curious artifacts. Things that looked too manmade to be a coincidence, but it was always ancient and cracked stone. Designs that looked Greek or Roman.

On an especially productive exploration, he came across what looked like a rudimentary camp. Broken pottery, busted wooden furniture, and even some ancient books that crumbled in his hands when he picked them up. There was a hefty tome that had somehow survived, and Bucky took it back to his cave, hoping to explore it later, but he was disappointed to find the ink too faded to read.

Bored and with way too much time on his hands, Bucky managed to fashion a writing utensil made of a “bamboo” shoot, honed to an edge, along with some ink made of lichen and moss. The relief of being able to do something as human such as journaling made Bucky laugh for the first time in… a long time. He began to document his daily excursions. It made him feel less like a prisoner and more like an explorer, but even then he couldn’t drop the habit of marking ticks on a wall to count the days. And there were many, many ticks.

There was evidence that humans had been on this world in other ways. For the few creatures that seemed to speak a language, they always spoke in Latin. Bucky couldn’t fathom it until he remembered the red book, the one that had controlled him. It had been inscribed in Latin, and his so-called masters had made sure to teach him to speak and read it. HYDRA couldn’t have been the first to summon demonic entities, and perhaps Latin had been their way of communicating with the demons they summoned?

Bucky didn’t know. He didn’t think it was important either, but the voice always got excited when he stumbled across a new ruin or found a new item of manmade design. That alone was enough to make him go out of his way to find more. He liked when the voice was happy, even if he didn’t quite know why.

And the voice was happiest when Bucky flew. The first time he realized it was when he was doing it simply for the exercise, not having anywhere he wanted to explore. Letting his mind go calm and quiet, he found he was able to pay better attention to the entity in his head. He could sense its awe and wonder as they flew high above the hellscape.

Bucky could understand. When his wings had first appeared, he hadn’t hated them. The boy who’d loved comic books and super hero pictures had been fascinated with them, and getting to fly was one of the few times he’d felt free while in HYDRA’s control.

He sensed a little bit of sadness from the voice too, and a physical longing for something. It didn’t hit Bucky until that moment the possibility that the voice might once have had a body, one it had lost, and now it was trapped here with Bucky.

His suspicions were founded when its “presence” grew, expanded within his body, until it was filling him up to the fingertips. Bucky gladly pulled back, allowing the voice to take temporary control.

It wasn’t expecting that, apparently, because Bucky’s wings slanted at an angle and they almost dropped from the sky. The voice took control of his wings and flapped in a panic, like a baby bird fallen from the nest.

“Calm down,” he said, still having control of his voice but he sounded far away to his own ears. “Just do it the way I do it and you’ll be fine.”

I-I shouldn’t-this isn’t right—

Bucky sighed but took control of his body when he sensed the voice pulling back, its presence tinged with horror. He hadn’t wanted to upset it, but at least it was calming down now that he had control again. Poor thing probably hadn’t meant to reach so far into Bucky’s body to begin with.

“If you ever change your mind and want a turn at the wheel, just say the word. I trust you, sweetheart.”

Bucky blinked. Why had he said that? He didn’t know, but by the way the voice went suddenly dead silent, he wondered if he’d gone too far. Been too familiar. Probably had. He’d have to be more careful in the future. It would be just his luck to scare away the one person he had left.

He couldn’t tell if it was human, but it spoke like one. He couldn’t tell its gender, either. Age, race, nationality? Hadn’t a clue. He wasn’t even entirely sure what language it spoke and if the words he heard in his head were literal or some kind of mental translation.

One thing Bucky knew, even if it was the most confusing fact of all: The voice cared about him.

After everything he’d done, Bucky knew it was undeserved. It didn’t stop him from being selfish and clinging to the voice like a lifeline, though.

When Bucky woke from nightmares, shaking and gasping in terror, the voice was there, wrapping warmth and comfort around him. In those moments, he felt especially weak, because he wished more than anything the voice was real. Tangible. Something he could hold and touch.

He didn’t even have a name to call it by. It wouldn’t tell him, so Bucky had said fuck it and tried to come up with one on his own, but they all felt… wrong.

He wished he knew. The one thing Bucky wanted more than to escape this world was to finally meet the owner of that voice.

That urge had never been stronger than the day they found the corpse.

It had been a day like any other, without end under the relentless pale red starry sky, and Bucky had been exploring more of the ancient ruins. He came across a structure that looked different from the rest, almost handmade and clearly thrown together in a hurry. The occupant was still inside, and by the looks of it, had been for many years.

Bucky had come across many corpses in this world, all of the demonic variety, but this one was clearly human. The body was desiccated, mummified and preserved by the hot, dry air. Bits of tattered faded clothing covered its chest and hips, not enough to discern what nation or era they came from. How they’d gotten there, Bucky didn’t have a clue. They came along with the rest of the human ruins, he supposed, but it was strange this was the first actual human body he’d come across.

He’d been about to turn away, leaving the bones undisturbed, when something caught his eye. On the mummified shoulder, stretched but not beyond recognition, was a pentagram carved into the skin.

Bucky’s eyes widened. Another demon that had once been human like him? That had been his initial thought… until the voice reacted so violently that Bucky could actually feel the anxiety shooting through his limbs.

“What?” he insisted. “What is it?”

I…

The voice seemed to be at a loss for words, fear that was not his own seeping into Bucky’s mind.

“Hey, come one. Tell me what’s got you so riled up. Do you know this guy?” Bucky didn’t see how, but that’s almost how it felt. As if the voice had recognized the corpse.

N… no, it finally said. It’s… it’s nothing.

No matter how much Bucky tried to pry for the truth, he couldn’t get a straight answer, and it only seemed to agitate the voice to the point where it couldn’t speak, fear pulsing from it like a living thing.

Bucky left the corpse where it was, doing his best to project calmness toward the entity sharing his mind. But the voice didn’t speak again until he returned to what he thought as “our cave,” and it took several days for it to return to its usual outgoing self.

They didn’t talk about it again, but Bucky never forgot how the voice reacted to that corpse with the pentagram scar. And some days, when the voice was quiet and sad, he knew it hadn’t forgotten either.

The next time Bucky decided to venture outside of his territory, he waited until the voice was in good spirits. Bucky smiled at his own pun.

Penny for your thoughts?

Bucky snorted. Maybe the voice had pulled phrases like that from his head to make him feel more comfortable, but he didn’t think so. He was sure the damn thing was human, or was at least from Earth. By paying attention to how it said things, rather than what it said, Bucky found he learned a lot more than by asking it straight-on personal questions.

For one, it seemed to appreciate sarcastic humor, and Bucky was never in short supply.

“It would be a penny more than I have,” he said, poking at a suspicious mound of dirt. This area had been promising; he’d even found a couple of dusty robes at one point. Bucky hadn’t been able to tell how old they were, but they’d definitely been the right shape and size for a human.

I suppose you are destitute. What would buy, right now, if you could?

“A blueberry slushy,” Bucky lamented. “And new boots.”

He stared mournfully at what was left of his old pair, torn apart by his expanding, clawed feet. HYDRA had told him his transition had been complete after they’d done an especially horrible ritual on him, but apparently, they’d lied. Big shocker there.

“Do you miss slushies?” Bucky kept his tone carefully neutral.

Sure, it answered, just as vaguely, as it always did. Bucky heaved a sigh.

“Come on, give me something,” he grumbled as he trekked over the deep sand. “We’ve been here… how long?”

Forty-eight years and thirty-two days.

Had it really been that long? It seemed… shorter, somehow. And also infinitely longer.

“Exactly. Almost five decades, and I don’t know anything about you!”

That’s not true, it said, going soft. Sometimes it did that, as if thinking fondly of some far away past. You know me better than anyone.

“Yeah. Right.”

It’s true!

“I don’t even know your name.” Bucky kicked over a large rock, finding nothing but a bright red reptile underneath. It scurried away, hissing indignantly.

“What, is it a witch thing? If I know your name, your sinister powers won’t work on me?”

Don’t be dumb.

“I’m not dumb. You’re dumb. Witch.”

Oh, my God, I’m not a witch.

“Well, unless you’re the figment of a shattered psyche, then you’re something. Witch is as good a guess as any.”

The voice gave a huff. Bucky could imagine it pouting like a child, and he grinned.

How is it that no matter what planet you’re on, you’re still the same smartass that I—

The voice stopped and Bucky’s head snapped up, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. Something had shifted in the air, and a second later, the ground rumbled under his feet.

At first, he thought it was one of the mountain-beasts, but this felt… different. Sharper. Every nerve ending was tingling and he leaned forward, hungrily. Not the demonic part of him. The part that was human.

He could smell it. Earth.

That’s it! the voice shouted. Over there!

He could see it in the distance—a glowing oval that looked as if it was bordered with blue fire.

Bucky didn’t move.

What are you doing! The voice screamed at him. You have to go! Now!

“I…” He swallowed thickly, his heart pounding as he couldn’t seem to get enough air. His legs wouldn’t move and his tail stuck out at an upward angle like a frightened cat’s.

Bucky didn’t know what he was doing. More importantly, he didn’t know what was beyond that portal. What if the world he went back to wasn’t like the one he left? What if he returned just to be caught by HYDRA? What if he had to feed again?

And the most terrifying question of all: what would happen to his little ghost?

There were too many unknowns, too many variables. This place may be actual Hell, but at least he’d carved out a place that was his own. He knew what each day would be like and what to expect. He had no such information about what lay on the other side of that ring of fire.

Bucky, please, it pleaded. I know you’re scared, but you have to trust me. You have to go through that portal. You’re meant to go through!

He stared at the object, no larger than a pebble from this distance, but nothing had filled him with so much fear. Not even the things he could hear crawling around his cave during the rare nights.

“I can’t,” he croaked out. He was cowardly, and he hated himself for it, but he still couldn’t budge.

Yes, you can. You can and you have to!

Several emotions flickered through Bucky’s mind, all coming entirely from the voice, too strong for it to hide from him. Sorrow, yearning, grief.

…Love?

“What’s on the other side?” he asked, suddenly desperate. “What will I find when I cross?”

Through their connection raced an ache so powerful it nearly knocked the wind out of him.

Me.

The fear keeping him immobilized shattered, and he spread his wings and took to the air. He raced to the portal, narrowing his eyes against the heated wind as he zeroed in on his target.

There were other demons below, drawn by the otherworldly energy flowing through the fiery blue portal. A dark green humanoid demon slipped through, a slithering, worm-like creature following after. Bucky ignored them, ignored everything except the portal.

The last thing he remembered was the voice telling him to land and run.

Bucky slammed into the ground in front of the portal. A demon that looked half-bull, half-bear was to his right, and it gave a roar and swung its claws when it realized he was there.

Bucky ducked under its outstretched arm—stupid beast wouldn’t even be able to fit through the portal—and he slipped around the larger demon. He pushed off from the ground, claws digging into the sand, and he leapt through…

…to land on a child’s bedroom floor.

Next Chapter

#demon!bucky barnes #demon!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #branded

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breath-of-the-hobbies · 3 years

Text

BOTW2 - A Return to Darkness

(I’ve never written fan-fic before in my life, but all of these new BOTW theories and art inspired me to write this idea out. Special shout-out to @autumn-sweet-fae for the idea about Link’s ability reset! [x])

The series of caverns beneath Hyrule Castle seemed to be a source of boundless interest and excitement for Zelda, who stopped to document every carving and luminescent gem with the Sheikah slate no matter how small or difficult to reach. Link felt the absence of Revali’s Gale acutely whenever Zelda lamented being unable see the carvings far above their heads, but Revali and all of the other Champions had long since moved on, taking their gifts with them.

The two Hylians, displaced in time, had initially begun exploring the newly uncovered cave system as a way to escape the realities involved in rebuilding a kingdom. Soon enough, though, it became obvious that there were important secrets tucked away beneath the ground, perhaps even older than the Sheikah. Zelda hoped that uncovering these secrets could help in the rebuilding process, and so their short, escapist trips had turned into full-fledged expeditions.

They had recently discovered a steeply descending path near an entrance by the Great Plateau. Although Zelda continued to record her findings as diligently as always, they both felt a strange sense of disquiet as they descended into the darkness. Though they had been seeking answers to their questions for months, this was the first time they were afraid of the response.

When they discovered Ganon’s mummified corpse, things began happening very quickly.

Perhaps it was the presence of all three people of legend in one space that activated the chain of events. Within moments of the Hylians stepping into the final cavern, the earth began to shake and malice oozed from the floor. A glowing turquoise light leapt like lightning from Ganon’s form to Link’s arm, which he had instinctively extended to shield Zelda as stalactites and whole chunks of the ceiling rained down around them.

The shock of the light touching his skin—no, entering his skin—was nothing compared to the acidic burning of malice as the slime piled up on itself and swarmed the glowing arm, as though with a single-minded purpose.

Zelda screamed his name over the thundering of stone, knuckles white on her sword grip. Neither of them had seen anything like this, and neither knew how to combat it. Link stepped backwards, tearing at the ooze and trying to keep it away from his princess, noticing how it seemed to be exclusively targeting him. Afterwards, he would remember that small step with piercing regret. If he had only been closer, if he could have moved a little faster…. The ground collapsed beneath Zelda’s feet. Link lunged forward, desperate, reaching—their fingers brushed, and then she was gone.

Link could barely process anything. The earthquake had stopped. Ganon’s corpse had disappeared into the yawning black mouth that now filled the cavern, the same mouth that had eaten the only person who mattered to him in this world. The malice had somehow shriveled and sunk into his arm along with the strange light, and now a black rot was crawling up towards his shoulder, rendering the whole limb dead. He was unable to handle a glider or climb down into the hungry darkness, and the gnawing, unnatural pain in his arm was enough to drive him to his knees.

Slowly, painfully, and with an involuntary cry of agonized frustration, he tightened a belt around his upper bicep in an attempt to stem the creep of malice and stumbled up the debris-filled path to the surface.

When he finally emerged into the calm summer evening, his horse startled and shied at his approach, registering the scent of his arm as a corrupted enemy. Nearly delirious with pain, fatigue, and fever, Link still managed to soothe it, leaning his face against its neck and pretending that it was sweat running into its fur. He could barely stand to look at Zelda’s beautiful horse, but forced himself to clumsily fasten its lead to his own horse’s saddle.

But where to go? His champion allies were gone. The castle was still largely abandoned, the guardians erratically active and monsters as yet un-eradicated. The closest source of help was days away, and the slate had been with Zelda, so there would be no teleporting.

Purah’s not going to be happy about this. He thought nonsensically, and set his horse’s nose towards Hateno Village.

***

He did his best to cling to the horse’s mane, but as the familiar village appeared in the distance, his sense of relief overpowered the adrenaline that had kept him going for the past several days. Slowly, gently, darkness clouded his vision and he slipped from his mount’s back, falling into the ditch on the far outskirts of Hateno Village. The horses, exhausted themselves, barely registered the change in weight and continued on to the place where they knew that apples and good hay could always be found.

The children of the village, who had frequently begged rides from Link and clung to him on past visits, immediately recognized that something was wrong when they spotted the tired creatures trudging up the cobbled street. They ran to the eccentric scientist up in her tower, and joined Symin, her chief researcher, in a frantic search of the area. The sun was beginning to set when they finally found the unconscious Link. Symin scooped the small hero up in his arms, a knot of fear in his stomach, and carried him to his lady.

***

Link opened his eyes to sunshine streaming through a window, birdsong, the warm scent of hay and machine oil. The agonizing, corrupted, wrong pain in his arm had faded, but in its place was a weak and draining numbness. Remembering Zelda’s fall, he sat up with a gasp, and immediately crumpled, spots swimming in his eyes, heartbeat rushing in his ears. As he panted, head between his drawn-up knees, he heard soft steps as someone came up the ladder to this bedroom.

“I would have thought you’d slept long enough the last time, Linky.” Said Purah dryly, but not unkindly. “You’re really pushing my skills here. I had to research tech that hasn’t been used since the Zonai disappeared.” Link slowly lifted his head to look down at his arm. The rot was still there, shriveled black skin stretched over tendon and bone. Two things were different: there were engraved metal bands that clasped his arm from wrist to bicep, softly buzzing with energy, and there was a Sheikah emblem tattooed on the back of his blackened hand.

Purah remained uncharacteristically quiet, letting Link take in the changes, before starting up again to enthuse about the tech. “I’m going to keep optimizing it, of course. It’s wildly inefficient at the moment but I needed to get something on you or you’d lose the arm. Currently the runes are drawing directly from your energy just to stop the procession of the corruption, but I plan to improve that. As such I think it’s going to take you a while to get your strength back. I saw you lost your slate—“ her voice hardened in sudden anger “—but until you get it back I’ve got plans to add some capabilities to this tech in the meantime.”

Link finally found his voice. “Zelda.” he croaked, his defeated, exhausted gaze rising to meet Purah’s.

Her face softened. “We were worried why she wasn’t with you, why you were in that state. We sent some people to the tunnels, but they haven’t returned.”

The half-hoping, half-pleading look in Link’s eyes disappeared immediately, replaced with stubborn determination as he placed his feet on the floor and rose, legs visibly shaking.

Purah sighed, as though she had expected this. “You’re in no shape to go after her now. Zelda has held her own in this world for longer than you have, and she can handle herself. You, on the other hand, need to build your strength back up or you’ll be knocked over by the first bokoblin you meet. Or the first gust of wind.”

Link ignored her, taking slow and unsteady steps towards the ladder. “Link, your clothes!” She yelled after him in exasperation just as he missed the second rung and disappeared from view. A loud thud and a startled exclamation from Symin rose back up through the hole in the floor. “Hylia, why me?” She asked the air.

***

Link glared at the straw monster in front of him, sweat running into his eyes. It took all his effort to raise the stick in his right arm, the numbness of the limb and unfamiliar weight of the tech making every movement sluggish. He had been hacking at the doll for hours and yet it looked fresher than he did.

Symin watched from the window, sipping a cup of tea. “Should we stop him?” He asked. It was several weeks now since the scrawny hero had picked himself up off the floor and legged it out the door, only to collapse less than halfway down the hill. Since then, he had spent every waking moment making his best attempt at training.

Purah didn’t glance up from her book. “The man just lost everything he cares about for a second time. In many ways he’s worse off than he was when he woke from the century’s sleep. At least that time he had his strength, if not his memory. Let him work things out his own way.” Unspoken between them was the knowledge of reports from central Hyrule that the castle was once again filled with malice and making the ground tremble day and night. Link had not told them the details of his encounter, nor indeed spoken hardly at all, but his grim determination said more than enough.

Only a few days later, the morning after Purah had successfully implanted the first upgrade into Link’s arm, Symin slammed open the door to her tower study, panic and worry twisting his face. “He’s gone! Link’s gone!”

Purah turned to gaze out her window. She didn’t look surprised, but her normally boisterous personality was briefly extinguished. She shook herself and turned back to her notes with renewed vigor. “He’ll be back. Let’s be ready for him.”

Chapter 2

#botw #botw2 #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #link #zelda #purah #symin #botw fic #botw2 fanfic #breath of the wild 2

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polaristranslations · 3 years

Text

Shinobu Mustard Episode 2

011

"You aren't hiding something from me, are you?"

A little girl with golden hair and golden eyes.

The mere shadow of a vampire, or perhaps the dregs of a vampire—in the past, she'd been feared as the iron-blooded, hot-blooded, cold-blooded vampire, the king of oddities, a monster among monsters that lived for nearly six hundred years, by the name of Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade. But her current, completely changed form was now that of Oshino Shinobu, and that was the question she posed in Koyomi's room in the Araragi house.

"Oi, oi, what are you saying all of a sudden, Shinobu-chan? If you're going to doubt me like that, then our relationship of mutual dependence would be over."

"As if! We're in too deep. As you can see, I'm bound to your shadow as if I've been nailed to it, tightly and firmly."

"Now, now. Look, Shinobu-chan. It's the donuts that you love so much, see? It's the Golden Chocolate, see?"

"That makes you even more suspicious, my master. Don't speak with such a wheedling voice. There's clearly something you're trying to gloss over."

She was sharp. Like a fang.

During spring break when I was seventeen years old, the legendary vampire, who had bitten down upon the nape of my neck and enslaved me, had been bitten back by me and enslaved in return—she had become the legendary slave.

However, despite saying stuff like "my master", she did not seem to want to follow my orders at all. This slave was not at all convinced by my well-reasoned and impeccable attitude, but rather seemed to have deepened her doubts.

Shit, Gaen-san sure was asking a lot from me.

Hiding something from Shinobu was harder than hiding something from my parents—she and I had an inseparable bond, with two hearts beating as one.

If anything, it might have been easier to run in headfirst into dazzling battles against vampires, just like my spring break at seventeen, but with a pacifist specialist and moderate strategist at the helm, it didn't seem like we could take the simple approach.

I had to hold Shinobu back until the sun rose again.

I didn't know why I had to do such a thing—I'd asked her during the daytime, "What should we tell Shinobu about this case?" And the answer that Gaen-san came up with while she slept was not to ask for her cooperation, but rather the strategy of keeping her at a distance.

She was totally just being excluded!

Even though we weren't on the topic of the girls' basketball club, it seemed that bullying was still a thing even among evil spirits... Haah, poor thing.

"Don't look at me with such a pitying gaze. Don't send your feelings of pity at me! What in the world happened during the day? Who did you meet?"

"Oi, oi, Shinobu. Do you really think I would do something like going around and seeing other people?"

"I do. You should at least go out and see people!"

"Now, now. Look, it's the Half & Half from Mister Donut."

"Even if you try to sidestep the matter with something like that... Eh? Half of it is a Pon de Ring, and the other half is an Old Fashioned? It's like a donut from my dreams! Panaino!"

With a sidelong glance at Shinobu who began chewing, I measured the time remaining until sunrise—right now, it was 10 pm, so there was still about 7 hours.

I wondered if I could make it.

Ultimately, since Shinobu was bound to my shadow, it was possible to keep her confined as long as I stubbornly stayed put, but it didn't feel right to force her to just stand by.

Even if it was a request from Gaen-san, who I was much obliged to, I didn't want to do anything that could create a crack in my relationship with Shinobu from here on out.

Since we were in so deep, that was something I wanted to continue.

"That's right, Shinobu. There's something about that deeply memorable spring break that I've always wanted to ask about."

"If it's something you've been wanting to ask for a year and a half, why did you not ask it sooner...?"

Shinobu knit her eyebrows in confusion, but it wasn't like I could tell her that it was a question I had just thought up for the sake of stalling for time.

"During that spring break, you sucked out my blood and turned me into an immortal vampire. You remember, right? With you on the verge of death, I said something like, 'Dying like this suits me pretty well, so this isn't so bad,' and chuckled nihilistically before offering up the nape of my neck..."

"Is something wrong with your memory? Did you use it all up studying for exams?"

The truth was that I was crying when it happened.

But, putting aside whether I was laughing or crying, at that point, I'd turned into a vampire... That was what had happened, but I'd learned from Gaen-san at the hospital that there'd been plenty of potential for that to have failed.

It was actually more likely for the creation of a vampire's thrall to fail, she'd said—and with three mummified high school girls having been verified, it was a fact that I fully understood, to the point that it sent chills down my spine.

And in that case, what I'd suddenly become curious about was...

"What would have happened if, at that time, my vampire transformation had failed? In the first place, what meaning does a failure hold to the vampire master?"

"Ka ka. So the time has finally come to speak of that, then."

Including the Half & Half, Shinobu had made short work of the donuts I'd prepared, and assumed quite the haughty attitude—I mean, it wasn't like I was trying to touch upon such a grandiose secret.

"You sure have grown, my master. Not that you'd actually grow, considering you're immortal!"

"Don't just retort to your own joke. And let me grow! I'm not immortal anymore, anyway. Besides, what kind of growth have you shown in the past year?"

Rather than growth, it was more like regression.

Well, going from a beautiful lady to a cute little girl was a genuine regression... But anyway, this question was made for a reason beyond just stalling for time.

If my vampire transformation had failed at the time.

Would I have become a mummy? And, before she was called Oshino Shinobu, would Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade have been able to survive?

For vampires, the act of sucking blood is like nutrients, but if a vampire were to fail at transforming their target into a vampire, would they simultaneously fail in gaining those nutrients?

During that spring break, the king of oddities had certainly said this.

One whose blood is sucked by a vampire is turned into a vampire, without exception—there was no discretion, it was just a matter of eating it all up or leaving some behind.

In other words, in order to prevent the unnecessarily proliferation of thralls, they couldn't leave any behind—would that just be indigestion?

In the end, were the high school girl mummies successes or failures—as the creator, were they failed products unworthy of signatures? It was hard to figure out.

Right now, the vampire that Gaen-san was chasing. With what purpose—or perhaps, with what motive—were they going after the Naoetsu High girls' basketball team members? If we could figure that out, it would help establish a point of reference.

Even if it was temporary, I wanted an additional line.

If the motive was just an appetite for the sake of gaining nutrients, then it didn't make sense for them to leave anything behind, even if it was just a skin-and-bones mummy. But if they were trying to increase the number of their thralls, then it was a series of failures that was rather disgraceful—what exactly was this vampire trying to do?

"To get straight to the point, if you had failed to become my thrall, my slave, then you would have turned into a zombie incapable of any thought. You remember, don't you? That day, when we visited a different timeline and saw a bunch of living corpses."

"Ah—yeah, we did."

I see.

For those cases, the image I had of those immortal creatures was like a humid, rotten lump of flesh that was sticky and squishy, so I hadn't connected them to these mummies in my mind, but now that she'd mentioned it, I had already known about the precedent.

It was surprising how such an intense and memorable experience could be overlooked when looking at it from a different angle—then, going off of the assumption that losing the ability to think and losing consciousness were similar, then those examples of failures... In that timeline, the "Oshino Shinobu from another route" was in a kind of despair, and had no purpose or motive.

Could this vampire also be in despair? A case of binge eating out of despair... Far from stoic forward-thinking or a smart sense of purpose, it could be a rampage of complete desperation.

Well, I didn't know that many vampires to hypothesize a pattern... Like the number of friends I had in high school, I could count them on one hand.

And, as for the span of time I spent as a vampire (though it felt like an eternity to me), it had only lasted a mere two weeks, so I couldn't be counted in that. So first, the iron-blooded, hot-blooded, cold-blooded vampire, Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade.

Then, there was the giant professional, Dramaturgy, who came to Japan as a vampire hunter of his own kind, in pursuit of the king of oddities... And yet another vampire hunter, the white-uniformed professional, Episode—well, strictly speaking he was just a half-vampire, but it was fine to include dhampirs in the count.

And finally, Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade's first thrall—Shishirui Seishirou...

Four people. Well, they weren't exactly people, so I guess I should say four vampires? In any case, the sample size was a bit too small for me to use as a reference in analyzing the state of this vampire... Well, for a normal human, one encounter with a vampire in a lifetime would be more than enough, but with four vampires (five if you include this one) in a little over a year—Araragi Koyomi's vampire life is truly bountiful, wouldn't you say?

Although all of them were linked to Shinobu—Hm... Well, hold on.

Hold on hold on hold on hold on.

That's right, that was certainly a glaring oversight...

If we were talking about links to Shinobu, then while I had never come in direct contact, I was certainly aware of the existence of yet another vampire.

Though I'd never met them.

I knew.

Though I'd overlooked it.

Without exaggerating—I can say that, if it weren't for that vampire, I wouldn't be where I am today. Because.

"Shinobu. Speaking of which, you've never told me about the vampire that turned you into a vampire—the vampire that's essentially my origin."

"Ka ka. So the time has finally come to speak of that, then."

Shinobu repeated the same line as before, revealing the narrow range of lines that she could think of. And then,

"So the time has come to speak of the death-prepared, death-inevitable, death-certain vampire—the one who birthed me and the one who gave me my name, Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster," she said.

What did she just say?

012

Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster.

Surprisingly enough, it wasn't the first time I had heard the name—or rather, it was a name that I'd just heard that day.

"D/V/S".

Somehow.

With that, I understood everything. No, not everything, but almost everything. That was why Gaen-san had ordered me to contain Shinobu for the night. It had felt like the kind of job that didn't make sense, that I wasn't really sure if it was a job or not—and if I may say so, a rather unrewarding role for how tiresome it was—but that wasn't it at all.

There was no mission that was more important than this.

In the first place, it was because Shinobu had gotten in the way when it came to the resurrection of her first thrall, Shishirui Seishirou, whom she'd once been separated from by life and death, that Gaen-san was forced to make a difficult decision on whether or not to request her cooperation for this case—and even then, this time it was no longer her thrall, but her former master.

Not in the way that she called me "my master" half as a joke and half for fun, but a true "master" in every sense of the word.

It might not stop at just getting in the way—in the worst-case scenario, Oshino Shinobu, who was supposed to be certified as harmless, might end up actively joining the other side. If this little girl, broken down to the point that she'd be in a good mood just from eating donuts, were to once again become the bloodsucking legendary vampire...

A return to the dark side.

Well, because she was such a legend herself, of course there was no way that Gaen-san, the administrator of specialists wouldn't know the name of the vampire that was the source of that legend—the onee-san that knew everything.

Therefore, as soon as the solution to the code was revealed to be "D/V/S", she immediately had a hunch that they were initials.

This completely ordinary town may have had oddity stories occur one after another, but that was when there was no god presiding over it—and now, why was it that yet another vampire would appear so soon, as if mocking the peace that we had laboriously established here? I'd thought it was weird—I'd thought that it could only be an oddity story because it was weird—but if there was a reason like that, then it would explain the drastic change.

If the vampire named Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster had come to visit her former thrall, Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade—just like Shishirui Seishirou, who had approached Shinobu to recover the Demon Blade "Kokorowatari".

Well, originally, his case had the implication of him returning to his hometown...

"Hm? What's the matter? Were you frightened? Did you get too scared to ask about what kind of a nightwalker would give birth to a strong, beautiful, yet fragile vampire like me? Ka ka, quite understandable. The story about the lord of a castle of corpses is so repulsive, it can chill your blood. Even I'm trembling with fear right here."

Shinobu, deliberately making a gesture as if to give herself goosebumps, seemed to be somewhat proud of herself—this was a kind of excitement I didn't see often, despite my close relationship with her.

Was it because she was talking about someone even closer to her, with an even deeper relationship? I felt the way I did when I watched Kanbaru and Higasa-chan play around earlier.

It felt similar to when I saw a junior that I was close with speak even more candidly with a friend that she was even closer with—it would be a lie if I said that I didn't want to accuse Higasa-chan of being overly familiar with Kanbaru, despite her being such a capable junior that would actually treat me like a senior in this day and age. Though it was a little different from jealousy.

Thinking about it now, as equivalent thralls, I had definitely felt something close to jealousy when I faced off against Shishirui Seishirou—that had gotten me worked up, and it had also caused trouble for Gaen-san.

Back then, I had gotten in the way almost as much as Shinobu had—however, if it came to her vampire master, then they wouldn't be someone to be jealous of.

That would be like being jealous of your girlfriend's dad... If anything, I would even like to hear some of Shinobu's stories from when she was human, and the fact that Shinobu had something she could speak proudly of would make me happy as well—if it only weren't for the current situation.

If the main character of the oddity story that Shinobu was telling me about so happily was using their poisonous fangs—their demonic fangs—to bite into the female students of Naoetsu High one after another, it would be hard to just listen to her with a smile.

"Well, I'd even forgotten that I used to be a human until I got into this mess with you last year—I haven't seen Suicidemaster in almost 600 years. Ka ka, she was a genuine vampire who lived quite the reckless lifestyle, so I'm sure she's rotting away somewhere by now."

"...Hey. Shinobu. When you say 'reckless lifestyle', what do you mean by that specifically?"

I asked timidly.

Of course, it wasn't that I was afraid of the ghost story—what I was afraid of was facing the truth. Calm down—it was possible that everything was just me jumping to conclusions.

It was something that happened quite often, me jumping to conclusions.

"Indeed. Unlike me, who eats everything no matter if it's an oddity or not, Suicidemaster was quite the gourmet. Once she'd decided upon her menu, she would stubbornly refuse to eat any other food."

Oho.

So basically, if she decided that she would only suck the blood of female students belonging to a certain club in a certain high school, she wouldn't even give other humans the time of day?

"In fact, at the time, Suicidemaster had almost starved to death when she decided to suck my blood while I was still human. Well, I'm the one who let her suck my blood out of pity. Nihilistically saying, 'Dying like this suits me pretty well, so this isn't so bad'..."

"You're saying the same thing I did."

"You can't fight your blood."

I wonder about that. If this continued, then it wouldn't end at just fighting—it could very well turn into a bloodbath... It was in order to avoid this that Gaen-san diverted her policy and took on the formation that had me mark Shinobu...

But, in that case, I would rather not have known that fact... I should have been a college student that didn't know anything, just as the onee-san that knew everything had arranged me to be.

Sure enough, Shinobu, who had been chattering away in a lively manner up until now, suddenly came to her senses.

"...Huh? Why was I talking about Suicidemaster at this point, all of a sudden?"

She tilted her head to the side—oh, crap.

"If I recall correctly, this originated from the question that you asked..."

"Good grief. Not slipping when asked, not slipping when talking, and yet slipping when asked again—I'm always so paradoxical, aren't I?"

"No, I think you just normally let it slip when asked."

Umm.

I'd already run out of the donuts from Mister Donut that I could have used in a pinch—whether he knew everything or knew nothing, now that he had become a college student, Araragi Koyomi could no longer use the method of a kiss to tide things over, like the Italians did. Not that it was any more justifiable as a high school student.

There was still plenty of time remaining until dawn, but just as I'd been backed into a corner, salvation descended upon me.

I heard a quick knock on the door to my room.

"Yes, yes, I'm opening it no~ow. Could it be Karen? Or maybe Tsukihi? Or maybe news that my child was born?"

"What if you opened the door like that and it was your mother?"

"If the news was that my sister had become a mother, how could I not congratulate her? Welcome, I'd say. Or perhaps, happy birthday."

However, when I opened the door, the hallway was empty.

"Over here, oni onii-chan."

A young girl appeared at the window.

"Happy birthday."

013

Ononoki Yotsugi-chan. An immortal falsely similar to a vampire, a doll girl and a corpse doll (this had nothing to do with what we were talking about earlier, but her existence was close to that of a zombie—a physical oddity similar to Frankenstein's monster), and shikigami of Kagenui Yozuru-san, the specialist traveling from a great distance away to return to Japan. And right now, in Tsukihi's room in the Araragi house, she was freeloading as a stuffed doll.

She had taken up the role of a nearby overseer that was monitoring Shinobu and me closely to ascertain whether our certification as harmless was really appropriate, but at the present moment, the young shikigami girl was, to me, a goddess of salvation.

"Wow, if it isn't Ononoki-chan! You came at just the right time. Now, don't hold back. Come and sit down right on my lap. My lap will be your child seat."

"My master, before you say such creepy things, at least retort to the doll girl's sketch comedy technique of knocking on the door yet coming in through the window."

"Please make yourself at home, Lord Ononoki."

"Is she a noble?"

Shinobu looked at me with even more suspicion, but it seemed that she had to lay aside those doubts in order to deal with her natural enemy that had flanked her—so far so good.

Call me creepy or even a degenerate, but anyway, I'd planned on plunging headfirst into bantering about a child seat with a little girl and a young girl as a vivid reminder of my high school days, but...

"Fortunately for me, I'm not so free that I can spend time lounging around on your lap, oni onii-chan," said Ononoki-chan, expressionless and indifferent.

No, this girl (and though I said "girl", she was the tsukumogami of a corpse that had been used for a hundred years) was always expressionless.

Because she's a corpse.

"Thanks to you, even though my employer, the onmyouji onee-chan, is away, I get to keep working. I'm making a huge profit. I'm laughing like, 'wahaha'."

She didn't look like she was going "wahaha", though (because she was expressionless).

"It's the know-how of wahaha."

"If such a know-how exists, I'd like for you to teach it to me."

But Gaen-san had said something like that, too... Ononoki-chan was in charge of a separate case.

That it was important to not sweat the small stuff.

In that case, she really must have just come with perfect timing, as opposed to coming here on Gaen-san's orders to support me in marking Shinobu—in that case, for what reason?

"What? Should I not have come without a reason?"

"Are you a childhood friend? My childhood friend doesn't act that spoiled. If it weren't for Hanekawa's support, she might not have even made it to college."

"I just felt like seeing your chaos, oni onii-chan."

"Don't come to see my chaos [kaosu]. At least come to see my face [kao]."

Although as a matter of fact, her timing was pretty chaotic—though the problem was, that chaos didn't show any signs of ending anytime soon.

"Hup."

Ononoki-chan stepped over the window frame and entered into the room—she wasn't a vampire, so she didn't need permission to enter.

How in the world did she knock like that? Was it a magic trick?

"It's true, I really don't have a reason. I was out for work and I just barely arrived home when it turned out that dumbass Tsukihi was in her room. She's studying or something."

She was such an oppressive and insolent middle school third-year that it was unavoidable for her to be called a dumbass, but I guess she's surprisingly diligent when no one's looking, that sister of mine—since Tsukihi thought that Ononoki-chan was a life-sized stuffed doll, she couldn't possibly enter through Tsukihi's window, so the hard worker had no choice but to return home through the alternate route of using my window.

Then, really and truly, how in the world did you knock like that. Did you borrow the power of the yanari phenomenon? Was it a phantom knock?

"However, it looks like I'm intruding upon you guys. Well, busy as I am, I can leave for the attic or whatever, so feel free to continue your discussion—oh, that reminds me."

While I'd been racking my brain trying to figure out a way to detain Ononoki-chan as she was about to make her hasty exit, she stopped just then to feel around her chest, as if she'd just thought of something.

What did that young girl plan on pulling out from her chest?

"Don't tell me you're going to use 'Unlimited Rulebook' to make your breasts huge!? Stop it, stop it! There are some lines you just shouldn't cross, Ononoki-chan!"

"I don't want to be warned about crossing humanity's K-point by someone like you, oni onii-chan. Here. A souvenir."

"A souvenir?"

Had she really gone that far away for work? Even if Ononoki Yotsugi-chan busied herself with urban legends, with Kagenui-san's absence, I figured her current range of activities would not deviate from this neighborhood.

However, when I took what she offered to me, it was not any kind of senbei or cookies indicating "Just visited ______", and instead, a piece of paper that had been folded ultra-thin.

In other words, it was a fortune slip.

Don't tell me she was trying to make the fortune slip she got at some shrine into a souvenir? Because fortune slips and charms and stuff are hard to throw away? Even as I thought, "I'm not going to accept this if it's nothing less than 'great luck'", I opened it up.

"Well. If it isn't a fortune slip from Kitashirahebi Shrine, where that lost girl works as a god," said Shinobu, taking a look at my hands and saying it out loud to make it easy to understand.

Incidentally, the fortune was "average luck".

Average luck.

It wasn't really clear to me if that was good or bad.

"So when you said you were working, you just went to play around with that lost girl, hm? You should've called me, too."

"I didn't go there to play. New as she is, Mayoi-nee-san is a lost child that rules over this town, after all. If I want to be able to do my work properly, I have to go through the proper channels, or else—"

While Shinobu and Ononoki-chan were partaking in a conspiratorial exchange that may have been friendly or unfriendly, I inspected the fortune slip.

Love—Treat your girlfriend preciously!

Studies—Don't let your guard down! Keep going without resting!

Health—Your mind is really in poor health!

Someone Waiting—You should go and see them yourself!

Business—Being a yes-man is dangerous!

What a high-energy oracle...

With her manner of speech, it did feel a lot like Hachikuji... As for the "Business" fortune, if it was referring to my current role as requested by Gaen-san, then "being a yes-man is dangerous" may have been just the advice I wanted to hear.

It was a good feeling.

This must be average luck for the sake of Araragi, averarage luck—but no.

That wasn't what I should be paying attention to. Well, that was important, too, but what I should focus on was—

"Ononoki-chan. You don't need to go to the attic. Until Tsukihi-chan leaves her room, you're free to just hang out here."

I stood up.

"The child seat and its child are going to go out for a late-night drive."

It was time to go and see the person waiting for me.

014

Hachikuji Mayoi had just been a lost grade schooler when I met her last year on Mother's Day, but now she'd become a splendid god. Even if it weren't for this case with the vampire, I knew it wasn't a good idea to visit her so casually due to her position, and I'd been careful not to rely on her (literally, pray to a god). But it was a different story if she was the one to call me.

Gaen-san had ordered me to keep watch over Shinobu, but she hadn't told me that I necessarily had to keep watch over her at home. Despite her previous offense, it wasn't as if Shinobu had been sentenced to house arrest.

But to deliver a message through Ononoki-chan through not a living message nor a dying message nor anything encrypted but a fortune slip of all things... It was surely something only a god could do.

The Kitashirahebi Shrine.

Built on top of a mountain, it was a shrine with deep connections and karma for me, and for everyone in this town.

If I was Lupin III, I could have simply ridden up the mountain in my New Beetle, but alas, I couldn't go against the Road Traffic Act or my own common sense. So I parked my beloved car at the shoulder of the road, placed Shinobu on my shoulders (my shoulders were also a child seat), and began to laboriously climb up the mountain path.

Due to the aftereffects of my vampirism, while I wasn't exactly nocturnal, I was still pretty strong at night—in times like these, I had no need for night-vision goggles.

"However, what business could that lost girl have with you? Does everyone really just want to see my master's chaos?"

Yes, I was curious about that, too. No, not my chaos, but her business with me—Hachikuji should have learned her lesson (or rather, Gaen-san mercilessly beat the lesson into her), so she shouldn't be behaving as freely as she used to.

She wouldn't just invite an ordinary citizen to the top of the mountain without any business—so maybe she had a few words to say about the serial mummy vampire incident secretly going on in this town, after all?

It was easy to get mad at me for this, but if the origin of this vampire's visit was Shinobu, then I had no choice but to take the blame for it, as her supervisor.

It was a violation of a virtuous supervisor's duty of care. Putting aside whether or not I had any virtues as a supervisor.

To be honest, responding to Hachikuji's summons did make me glad that I could gracefully escape from Shinobu's interrogation, but if what Hachikuji had to say had anything to do with this matter once we finished climbing the mountain, it would be a dead end for me.

A girl at the front gate, and a little girl at the back gate.

I had no choice but to hope that it was about something completely different. For example, maybe Hachikuji had decided to appoint me to sit upon not a child seat, but the seat of a god (in which case, I would humbly accept).

Really, I had no idea where my utterly random life was headed anymore. My life wasn't simply going forward, but hurling itself forward. Without coming up with any ingenious plans, the climb was completed.

Hachikuji was sitting under a waterfall in white clothing.

"Oh, how embarrassing. You ended up seeing me secretly trying to train."

"What part of this is secret? I've never seen anything so blatant. It almost felt like you weren't under a waterfall, but under a spotlight."

When did this shrine even have a waterfall?

Don't misuse your godly powers just for laughs.

She hadn't fixed her free-spiritedness at all.

"Oh dear. So this is not what they mean by a beautiful girl, glistening like the morning dew."

Of course not.

With a splash, Hachikuji made her way out of the waterfall basin... She was soaked completely through, and it was not in the least bit romantic. Her trademark twintails had been flattened against her head by the water pressure, and her white clothing clung to her body, making it difficult for her to move.

That open-mindedness. Truly a god.

"Anyway, it has been a while, Amefurashi-san."

"It's certainly been a while, eternal fifth-grader Hachikuji, but just because you're soaking wet, that doesn't mean you can call your friend by the name of a gastropod mollusk. And you're not sopping wet because I made it rain [ame wo furashita] or anything. I'm sorry if you went and got hit by a waterfall just so you could call me that, but my name is Araragi."

"Sorry. I flubbed it."

"No, it was on purpose."

"I fwubbed it."

"It wasn't on purpose!?"

"Ti debbuwf I."

"Even backwards, it wasn't on purpose!?"

No, that had to be on purpose.

And in any case, it really had been a while since I'd been here, but with the usual exchange that made it feel as if it hadn't been any time at all, Hachikuji and I celebrated our reunion.

"I wanted to see you too, Nobushi-san."

"Who are you calling Nobushi. By anagramming it, you've turned a ninja into a samurai. My name is Shinobu... Wait, am I doing this too?"

"Sorry. I flubbed it."

"Nay, 'twas on purpose."

"I fwubbed it."

"'Twas not on purpose!?"

"I fubwebd it."

"Even anagrammed, 'twas not on purpose!?"

With the girl and the little girl chattering away, it seemed pretty fun. Unlike the world of the animation's commentary tracks, they were heartwarmingly close.

Why was it only in the commentary tracks that they didn't get along? It's usually the other way around.

Well, Shinobu, as Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade, had also been exquisitely enshrined as a god in the past, so in that sense, it wasn't just a relationship between a girl and a little girl, but perhaps a senior-junior relationship as well.

A junior, huh? Hmm.

"Anyway, Anagra-san."

"You're prolonging this, aren't you? If you take what you flubbed and link it to a new way of flubbing, this passage will last forever!"

"Anyway anyway, Araragi-san. The reason I went to the trouble of asking the very busy Ononoki-chan to summon you to this mountain at this late hour is none other than this."

Although I was hoping there was another reason.

"The truth is, there was a little girl I wanted to introduce to you, Araragi-san."

"Oho? It sounds like there are some circumstances."

"If you wanted to be introduced to a little girl without any circumstances, you'd have to be totally crazy!"

From the little girl who showed no intention of descending from her seat atop my shoulders even after we'd finished our mountain climb, I received an elbow to the head.

"To be precise, it's not to Araragi-san, but to Shinobu-san."

"Huhu. It seems you're the one that's totally crazy, Shinobu-chan."

"Don't act so proud of yourself with a little girl on your shoulders. And don't shrug your shoulders, either, it clings. There's a right way and a wrong way to shrug your shoulders, you know."

"D-do you really need to go that far? All I did was shrug my shoulders, though?"

"Now, lost girl. What of the little girl you wished to introduce to me?"

"Yes. Right this way."

Hachikuji went up the shrine road on the grounds and towards the main shrine—and we followed in the footsteps of the young god as they were marked down on the ground with wet, bare feet.

"Yes. Just the other day, there was a lost child that came under my custody... Incidentally, she was naked."

"Oh, a naked little girl [youjo], you say? Who knows if that can be adapted for the anime. It's a fine line to walk."

"It's way out of bounds! Clean it up [youjou]!"

She retorted with a pun.

"Clean up the little girls [youjo youjo]!"

You meant, clean up every important point [yousho yousho], right?

Even if you punned on every important point.

"Anyway, it's out of bounds even in a novel, is it not?"

"And yet, it can't be avoided. After all, we're for social awareness, getting straight to the heart of taboos."

"Not for social inappropriateness?"

But, to be serious, I was a little relieved.

I had no idea who this naked little girl was, but apparently it was a completely different case from the matter that I was cooperating with Gaen-san on—the matter with Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster.

And considering Hachikuji's origins, you could say that taking custody of lost children was practically a livelihood for her.

As long as we didn't run into the novel and stupid development that the progenitor who birthed and named the iron-blooded, hot-blooded, cold-blooded vampire was actually a little girl, and a naked little girl at that, then it seemed likely to be unrelated to this case—and the clock had reached its peak around the same time we had reached the peak of the mountain, so there was about 5 hours left until dawn.

If Hachikuji's child [youji], or rather, her business [youji], was business for Shinobu, then it would be ideal if Gaen-san (and the others) could draw the curtain on the gourmet vampire while she was distracted.

And with Kagenui-san still not having returned to the country yet, it was unlikely that Miss Suicidemaster would be suppressed in a violent manner... In that respect, I was thankful for Gaen-san's pacifist nature.

"By the way, Araragi-san. Don't you have anything you want to say to me?"

"Hm?"

"You have that look on your face."

Wow, even though her career was just starting, she was still a god in the end... For her to read my face, my chaos.

However, I'd decided that I wouldn't consult her about this case. It was different from when she didn't have her position—now that she'd become a god, I didn't want to stick Hachikuji in a dilemma between oddities and humans.

"Ha ha. You don't know me as well as you think you do, Araragi-san. You'll never put me in a dilemma, because I'm always on your side, Araragi-san. As long as I'm with Araragi-san, even hell isn't such a bad place."

As she said those deep words of friendship, Hachikuji opened the sliding door to the main shrine, but as soon as she did so, I felt like I'd been struck by a sense of cruel betrayal by that good friend of mine.

On the floor within the main shrine, as if it was a divine object of worship that had been carefully laid to rest, the naked little girl was indeed a naked little girl, but.

The naked little girl was a mummy.

015

Some might argue that a naked little girl was a naked little girl, regardless of whether she was a mummy or not, and others might argue that naked was naked, regardless of whether she was a little girl or not—of course, some would argue that a mummy was a mummy, regardless of whether it was wearing clothes or not.

Just as a mummy was a mummy, regardless of whether it was wearing a high school uniform or a patient's gown—however, the situation had changed. We were now in the grounds of a shrine at night, within the traditional main shrine that was completely unconnected to electric lights, and that diminutive mummy seemed to fit perfectly there, as if it had been made-to-order.

The stage effects were astounding.

Rather than an oddity phenomenon, it was like I was being shown an important cultural treasure—and though I'd temporarily fallen into a panic, I was brought back to my senses by...

"S—Suicidemaster?"

A small voice that came from above me.

A whisper.

At that moment, with Oshino Shinobu calling Ononoki-chan "doll girl", and her calling Hachikuji "lost girl" even after she'd become a god that ruled over the town, I belatedly realized that it was extremely rare for her to refer to someone by name.

Suicidemaster.

Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster—was it?

"Wh—what a mess you've become!"

"O-oi, Shinobu. What, what did you just say?"

"Hee-yah!"

Could she tell that the mummy was her former master, even when it was all dried up?

Even though Shinobu had stubbornly refused to come down from my shoulders even after we reached the summit, she now placed both hands on my head as if it were a vaulting box, spread her legs out magnificently to the left and right, and jumped wide.

And, in the air, she spun twice around before landing, and then rushed up to the mummy of the naked little girl. The little girl was rushing up to the little girl.

"Whoa! Shinobu, be careful—"

Remembering the bitter experience I had faced in a shack on the side of the road to school during the daytime, I panicked and called out to her—however, what I'd feared did not come to pass.

The mummy didn't stir an inch. If I said it like that, then it sounded completely natural, but... Hm? Instead of the difference between wearing and not wearing clothes, and instead of the difference between a high school girl and a young girl, but as a mummy itself—did this individual follow a different providence?

Perhaps I should've also drawn close to check for this mummy's pulse or breathing, but I couldn't seem to move my body very well... It felt like my body wasn't mine. It felt like I'd actually become a child seat, or even a vaulting box.

"Hachikuji..."

"I'll say this now, but it isn't like I stripped this little girl naked for the sake of Araragi-san. The mummified little girl was naked from the beginning."

Um, that wasn't what I planned on asking or anything...

"Also, she hadn't been a mummy in the beginning."

"What do you mean by that? What happened?"

After reflexively rushing up to the mummy, it seemed she hadn't decided on what she'd do next, as Shinobu had been circling the mummy aimlessly before she asked that question to Hachikuji.

"God. What exactly is happening in this town?"

The question wasn't aimed towards me, but because of Shinobu's unprecedented tone of voice, even I couldn't help but feel nervous.

Even now, the administrator of the specialists, Gaen-san, should have been looking around town in pursuit of the unidentified vampire—so why was that unidentified vampire, Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster, assumed to be the culprit behind the mass creation of these mummies, sheltering away in a shrine as a mummy herself?

She's—sheltering away, right?

"......"

At any rate, there was no longer any doubt that Shinobu and I had long since diverged from Gaen-san's plans.

The prime suspect behind the mummifications had turned up as a mummy—it sounded like that old proverb, "the mummy hunter becomes a mummy", but wait. If it followed the proverb, then the next one to become a mummy would be me.

"Shinobu. What state is that mummy in? That naked little girl? I'm already kind of astonished that your progenitor who birthed and named you was actually a little girl, but that's definitely not what a vampire should look like—is she in a zombie-like condition?"

The prime suspect had become the next victim.

It was kind of like a mystery novel, maybe?

"No. If I had to say it, then this is cryptobiosis."

Shinobu responded with a careful, and marveling, voice.

Though a marvelous god was right there.

Cryptobiosis.

In other words, anabiosis.

The ultimate state of suspended animation used as an emergency measure to preserve one's life, that tardigrades, real, non-monstrous creatures said to be as immortal as vampires, used—or so I'd read in a book.

"It's not like a living corpse, but more like in critical condition... Is that why you called us here, lost girl?"

"That's right. I couldn't exactly have a clean conscience if a foreign visitor lost their life in my area of influence—as for what exactly is going on in this town, I would like to ask the same question."

That's why, for the sake of learning the truth.

Araragi-san, I would like you to procure the medicine that will revive this person—said Hachikuji.

"The medicine—what? Procure it—where?"

Is there a pharmacy in this world that would prescribe special medicine with components that would revive vampires, which are immortal by nature?

"It is not in this world. But, it is in the next world. As you are well aware."

"Th-the next world? Even if you say that I'm aware, I don't think I know what you're talking about?"

"You should be well aware, Araragi-san. After all, you visited it quite recently—it's hell."

It's the Blood Pond Hell.

That was what Hachikuji said—the Blood Pond Hell.

Indeed, it was the perfect medicinal ingredient for the vampire's condition, which neither doctors nor the hot springs of Kusatsu would cure.

016

Hachikuji had said something like "If I were to fall to hell with Araragi-san, then it wouldn't be such a bad place," but it seemed that wasn't just figurative—it seemed that I would have to visit hell once again.

To revive the vampire in a mummified, cryptobiotic state—even though I'd thought of this vampire as the fiend going after the members of Naoetsu High's girls' basketball club, I couldn't help but feel some cognitive dissonance at having to move for the sake of this vampire's health. But it was for the sake of investigating the truth.

Even though I'd regretted that spring break so much, to think that I would mobilize to save yet another vampire on the verge of death... It's bloody ironic, is what it is.

In the first place, just because she was discovered in the same (though not exactly the same) state as the high school girls, it didn't mean that the doubts surrounding her—and whether or not this little girl was "D/V/S"—had been cleared up, but there was no doubt that things were getting into the height of confusion.

It had surpassed not only my hypothesis, but Gaen-san's hypothesis as well—the question Shinobu had asked earlier was probably the same question everyone had in mind.

What exactly was happening in this town?

What sort of oddity phenomenon was this?

...Even an unprepared college freshman like me could tell that the fastest way was to ask "the person herself".

Otherwise, even if Shinobu's progenitor was the one responsible for the mummification of those high school girls, I certainly didn't think I could leave this naked little girl as she was... If I didn't clear things up, I wouldn't be able to even apologize to Higasa-chan, who'd provided me with the list of the Naoetsu High girls' basketball team members.

It was like the type of mystery where a necromancer-like detective called upon the spirit of the victim, but of course, this wasn't as convenient as that.

After all, once again, I was going to hell for the sake of a little girl... And this time, for the sake of a naked little girl, I was going to the Blood Pond Hell.

"But how exactly am I supposed to descend to hell? Seeing as I'm a perfect saint, I can't think of a way to do this."

"If you just play around with little girls or your little sisters as usual, wouldn't you just normally go to hell?" said Shinobu.

Even though she was sealed, because of her nature as an oddity, she couldn't accompany me to hell.

Don't joke about something just because it's not your problem.

Well, it was her problem, too.

The vampire who's like a parent to her was on the brink of death—it seemed she wasn't able to keep up with the situation, and although she didn't give off a heavy vibe, it didn't seem like she was able to keep up her antics.

But what about Hachikuji?

Though she was originally a lost child, she was now a god. I didn't think she'd be able to accompany me like she did last time.

In other words, even though she'd said all that so happily, in the end, she wouldn't be able to act as my guide or navigation, and I'd have to fall to hell on my own—what's with it turning out like this as if there was nothing strange about it, as if it was completely ordinary?

"But anyway, good grief. I guess I have no choice but to go. To my home away from home, hell."

"I was about to fall for you a second time. Don't say something so cool. The last time you were in hell, it was only for an hour," said Shinobu.

"It's an unseasonal homecoming."

"What are you saying, for a college student still living in his parents' home?" said Hachikuji.

Harsh criticism from these girls. Especially to a guy that was about to go to hell.

"Well, putting aside how long you spent there. It's your second time, Araragi-san, so you must be used to it by now."

"I wouldn't say that... But at the time, there was a specialist that would allow me to come and go as I pleased."

Right now, what method of transportation could I use exactly? I didn't know if it would take an hour, but I at least wanted to get back before dawn.

"If you went to hell with such a carefree attitude, even the judge of the afterlife would lose face," said Hachikuji.

Despite being the originator of the idea, she sure was bashing me pretty hard.

"Well, it may be a bit artless, but what about using the same method as last time?"

"The same as last time..."

I searched my memories. Yes, it was the previous academic year, the morning of my entrance exams.

Strangely enough, it was right here, at the grounds of the Kitashirahebi Shrine—at the time, Gaen-san had, with no explanation at all, sent me off to hell with something like a surprise attack.

With Demon Blade "Kokorowatari" in hand, she'd chopped my body up into pieces—that was the means of transportation.

I see, in that case, the original owner of that demon blade that was also known as the "Oddity Slayer" was right here—

"Eh? Huh? Then, am I going to be chopped up by Shinobu? A surprising kind of development that had never been done even during that spring break when I was seventeen?"

"Rather than a development, it's more of an expansion plan. Of your body. Shinobu-san, if you would."

"All right."

Arrangements to slice me up were quickly coming into place—Shinobu opened her mouth wide and thrust her hand deep into her throat.

Though Hachikuji had mentioned it was artless, it'd been a while since I'd seen that circus trick—like a magic trick, the oodachi was pulled out of the little girl's body without a sound, glowing with a mysterious light.

Demon Blade "Kokorowatari". The Oddity Slayer.

"Huhuhu. I've been waiting for the opportunity to rudely beat you up like this. How dare you humiliate me by putting me in a child seat!"

"I-I thought you were happy about it! Why are you getting mad at me now!? What's with that weird 'huhuhu'? What happened to your usual way of laughing?"

"Revenge is a soup best served cold."

"I thought we were at a distance where the soup wouldn't get cold! ...By the way, I've never actually seen you wield that sword properly... It's a bit late to ask Gaen-san for help on this now, but are you sure you can actually chop my organs up successfully like she did?"

"Ka ka. Don't look down on me. It's true that not even in the movie version had I gotten the chance to, but allow me to show off my secret techniques now. Everything was for this moment. To send you off to hell!"

"Aren't you a little too passionate about this?"

"Have a taste of the swordsmanship I honed for four hundred years! I'm warning you, this won't just end with your organs being chopped up. My Seishiryuu has seven secret techniques—"

First Technique: "Kyouka Suigetsu".

Second Technique: "Kachou Fuugetsu".

Third Technique: "Hyakka Ryouran".

Fourth Technique: "Ryuuryoku Kakou".

Fifth Technique: "Hika Rakuyou".

Sixth Technique: "Kinjou Tenka".

Seventh Technique: "Rakka Rouzeki".

"—And, unleashing the seven techniques simultaneously, Seishiryuu's final secret technique, 'Shichika Hachiretsu'!"

But at the moment where I wanted to retort that she'd gotten through the whole song and dance, I may have been torn to smithereens.

017

In my third year of high school, when I'd been fighting with the aftereffects of my vampirism (or perhaps fighting against it), I'd gotten rather used to the idea of dying.

In hindsight, I had relied too much on that vampiric immortality, which had remained pronounced even after I'd returned to human form. In other words, I'd been dependent on it.

I'd become addicted to death.

In the end, even though I'd managed to hit upon that one-in-a-million chance of returning to human form, I had found myself spontaneously turning into a full-fledged vampire, even without my blood being sucked—it was kind of like a rebound, or perhaps I was just an idiot who didn't learn his lesson.

The reason Gaen-san chopped my body up into pieces and dropped me into hell was to separate my soul from that immortal nature, that oddity nature, but thinking about it now, maybe I was about to make the same mistake again.

Just as I had grown accustomed to death.

If I ended up growing accustomed to going to hell—then saying that it was fine because it was my second time, or that I'm used to it... Those wouldn't just be jokes.

Ougi-chan would laugh at me, saying, "How foolish you are", while Oikura would get mad at me, saying, "You should just die".

Anyway, so this fool that didn't learn his lesson would once again reach out his hand and step foot into a tour of hell that could shatter mankind's view of life and death—

"...Huh?"

When I awoke, or perhaps when I entered into eternal sleep, I found myself in heaven.

Heaven.

Or maybe it was paradise, or the pure land, or perhaps Eden.

There were many ways to describe it, but anyway, the fantastical landscape that sprawled out before my eyes was completely different from the one I had seen when I'd last been sliced up, and it was one that I had never seen before... What in the world?

Normally, I would describe it as a beauty that could not be painted, but the scene—this landscape filled with light—looked as if I'd entered into a painting. Or, to put it another way, I had only seen such a scene before in paintings.

If I had to make use of my poor vocabulary, well, I guess I could say it was a beautiful example of Mother Nature... But the impression I got was more, "Is it okay for someone like me to be here?" I felt really out of place.

Out of place, and just wrong.

As if I'd accidentally wandered into the jewelry area of a department store.

With rolling green plains, a mountain range with distinctive ridges far off in the distance, and not a single cloud in the beautiful blue sky—the trees were lush and ripe with fruit, and the flowers were in full, multicolored bloom.

Even the air was delicious.

I wasn't a hermit that could live off of breathing mist, but it felt like just by inhaling, I could add a hundred years to my lifespan... Although, far from extending my lifespan, wasn't I supposed to have lost my life after being cut into pieces?

Wasn't I supposed to have fallen to hell?

"Urk... So basically, instead of falling to hell, I messed up and went to heaven? Ah, jeez, this is a problem. I guess whoever's watching is watching what I do on a regular basis."

"That's exactly right. You aren't as bad of a person as you think you are."

In order to break out of my confusion and break down the current situation, I tried to calm myself down by muttering something stupid (my self-control technique—surprisingly effective), but to my surprise, even though I'd thought no one was nearby, a voice spoke from behind.

Someone caught me talking to myself!

Normally, I would've ended up writhing in shame, but the gentle voice, as clear as (or even clearer than) the air around me, calmed me down as opposed to agitating me—I turned around.

The fact that there was a naked beautiful woman there did not make me lose my cool, either.

After a naked little girl, a naked beautiful woman.

What a series of events.

However, just like how the naked little girl was a mummy, the naked beautiful woman also had a third condition—or rather, more strictly speaking, I couldn't determine if the naked beautiful woman was a true beauty or not.

Because the beauty was wearing a demon mask.

A demon mask... To expand it into more words, a mask with a demon's face.

An adult woman that was liberally nude, but whose face was completely hidden by a mask... After finishing high school and entering college, I'd had a hint of hope that my life would become more adult in the future, but it had proceeded to become more adult in a strange way.

Not just lewd in the way I had hoped, but erotic and grotesque in an Edogawa Ranpo sort of way.

"......"

However, was it just my imagination?

That adult woman... That masked, fully nude beauty... I felt like I'd met her before. Even though I couldn't see her face, I could see her long, long blonde hair coming out from behind her mask, and her beautiful body lines that made her seem as if she was closed in a thin robe, even if she wasn't wearing anything. I felt like I had seen her before...

"I apologize for the way I look, Araragi-sama."

Oh my.

Though I didn't say it out loud.

I wasn't sent into a panic, but I was honestly not sure how to react to the gentle voice coming from behind the mask... Was this person someone I knew?

Was that even possible, considering where we were?

Since she had a demon mask, maybe this was hell after all? Was she one of hell's tormentors? If you hit the books, you'll find that hell really is full of diversity, encompassing every possible variation... Among those, there might even be a hell where a tall, sexy, naked, blonde, buxom beauty wears a demon mask and tortures the dead.

"I'm embarrassed to have appeared before you wearing a mask."

She seemed more ashamed of hiding her face than of exposing her nakedness—well, I'd suspected her of being a tormentor of hell, but this beautiful woman, like the landscape that stretched out behind her, looked like a woman that had been depicted in an artistic painting, and there was not a sliver of guilt or indecency anywhere on her body.

Or rather, I even felt that this landscape had actually been made for the sake of this beautiful woman—that was how much her naked body shined.

Perhaps, in actuality, if she hadn't been wearing a demon mask, the eyes of someone like me would have been blinded by the brilliance... Ah, is that why she's hiding her face like this?

So that her beauty wouldn't hurt me—her beauty?

"P—Princess Beauty?"

"Yes. There are those that call me by that name. But while you are here, I would like it if you called me Princess Acerola."

That was what she said.

That was what she—before she was Oshino Shinobu, before she was even Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade—Princess Acerola, a literal beauty who had destroyed her country with her unparalleled physical and mental beauty—said.

That was what the beautiful woman in heaven said.

018

"We are in heaven, so being without clothes is more natural. It is the natural order of things—if I may be so bold as to suggest this, it would be more unnatural for me to be clothed, as you are right now, Araragi-sama. Why not undress as well?"

"Should I? All right."

"Please do not decide to undress so readily."

So which is it?

But it was true that, if I were to be so brazenly nude, it would make me feel wrong—but "Princess Beauty", Princess Acerola.

I remembered.

Strictly speaking, I had never actually met this goddess before... At least not in this world, in this actual world.

I won't exactly go into the details because it wasn't something that actually happened, but in the period of time after I graduated from Naoetsu High and before I entered Manase University, I crossed through the looking-glass and was honored with an audience with "Princess Beauty".

Her beauty was such that it made me want to die just by facing her—even then, we'd only spoken with a curtain between us, but I'd nearly ended up killing myself, just as the people of the kingdom she destroyed had done.

"Well... I guess you could say I am convinced. 'Princess Beauty'... Princess Acerola, I could not possibly complain against you being a resident of heaven."

Uh-oh. My tone of voice was already getting weird.

That made sense.

I wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't just a resident of heaven, but the queen of heaven.

Despite the great expanse of these plains, there was no one else in sight, so it was possible that Her Majesty had already destroyed heaven as well... Well, I was only joking, though.

Anyway, there was nothing unusual about Princess Acerola being in heaven... What was unusual was that Araragi Koyomi was here.

Just as Hachikuji and Shinobu had explicitly and implicitly asserted, I myself had decided that I would go to hell if I died—but then, what was I doing, ascending to heaven?

"That is because I invited you here, Araragi-sama."

"Ah, I see. So it was something like that. That makes perfect sense."

"Teehee. Oh, Araragi-sama, that wasn't something that should've convinced you so quickly."

It was a highly sophisticated retort accompanied by a pleasant laugh.

Considering she was going along with my antics, she wasn't just beautiful and kind, but a good person as well—but, "teehee".

It was worlds apart from that little girl who would laugh, "ka ka".

Was this person truly the predecessor to that insolent, inhuman girl?

"...Just like how I was separated from my vampiric nature and fell to hell. Princess Acerola, six hundred years ago, when you transformed into Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade, did that beautiful soul of yours that 'died' end up separating and ascending to heaven?"

To force an analogy, it would be something like that.

I couldn't tell what her expression was behind the demon mask, but the naked human body was a surprisingly eloquent thing—by moving her body, Princess Acerola affirmed my guesswork without even needing to open her mouth.

Or rather, this goddess seemed to inadvertently be posing while talking—I'd heard she didn't like it herself, but it seemed that the unintentional beauty of her gestures had seeped into the marrow of her soul as well as the marrow of her bones.

I couldn't lose to her.

Time for a slightly peculiar conversation.

"However, what may have been the reason for you to so graciously invite a humble person such as myself to this place..."

"...It seems the demon mask isn't enough. Araragi-sama, please lend me your shoes."

"Okay. As you wish."

Princess Acerola took the sneakers that I respectfully offered her and put them on her feet... The naked beauty was wearing men's sneakers with a demon mask equipped.

That slight hint of discomfort brought me back to my senses.

Suddenly [俄] brought me back to myself [我].

Considering the addition of that 'person' radical [⺅], it was a scene that made me wonder about my status as a person.

At the very least, I didn't think heaven would grant me a visa.

"Why did you call me to heaven, Princess Acerola? I needed to visit the Blood Pond Hell to get its water, that is, its blood..."

"Instead of discussing such things, please forget everything and come with me, Araragi-sama. This is a recreation of my birthplace."

She was a good person, but she truly was a princess, going on at her own pace... She entered into a review of the landscape.

A beautiful princess's review of a beautiful landscape.

"My birthplace happens to be the first of many countries that I brought to ruin."

"......"

Countries.

The first of many—it was a weighty statement.

And, as a siren-like beauty, she was the first, and most likely, the last.

"I am not sure how to respond to that qualification. I may have to resign myself to it—not to mention, it's possible that someone among your friends could become something similar in the future."

Hm? Who could she be talking about?

If it's one of my friends with influence on the level of countries, then I can only think of Hanekawa...

"...I'm not sure if the idea of a country being destroyed by beauty really makes sense to me... Princess Acerola, are you sure those countries weren't destined for ruin anyway, even without you there?"

It may have sounded like I wasn't really thinking about it, but I couldn't keep quiet about it... There was no need to take on everything as her own responsibility—as unlimited liability.

This didn't have to do with the girls' basketball team's collective responsibility, but the princess's back was far too dainty to bear the burden of all that—however, dainty as it was, it was by no means so frail that it would break if you touched it.

I knew that very well, because she was naked.

You could tell, that back was very robust.

"Even the prosperous inevitably decay. No, every beautiful thing will die someday—is that what you wish to tell me? Araragi-sama. If that's the case, I must say that I have been too greedy in obtaining eternity by having my blood sucked by Suicidemaster."

Princess Acerola's shoulders drooped. Her beautiful shoulders.

That's right—the legend of Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster that Shinobu had told me had been quite biased, and although she had told me this and that, on and off, about the vampire's character, she had barely touched upon the specifics of how "Princess Beauty" had become "Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade"—how "Princess Beauty" had become the "iron-blooded, hot-blooded, cold-blooded vampire".

Did she perhaps do that on purpose?

Or maybe she forgot about it because it was six hundred years ago—normally, an event so important would never be forgotten, so it would usually be interpreted as her just being reluctant to speak of it... But this was Shinobu, after all, so forgetting about it was totally possible.

She was so lax that she may have forgotten that she was once human, over the course of that long life of hers—after seeing me wishing to become human again, she'd said it had reminded her of something she hadn't thought about in a long time.

...I wonder what she was like back then?

I'd heard of the story when Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade had been enshrined as a god, just as Hachikuji was now and Sengoku had once been in the past—and when she gave that up and continued to be a demon. But what state of mind had she been in when she turned from a human into a vampire?

Had she ever thought that she wanted to be human again?

Or perhaps—had she quickly forgotten about when she was human?

As I'd mentioned earlier, I had to finish my business quickly and come back to life, so I didn't have time for a picnic with a naked beauty. But seeing as I'd suddenly gotten the chance to have a question-and-answer session, I couldn't help but want to ask a whole bunch of things.

For now, I'll try asking one thing. The most important of them all.

"Excuse me. If you do not mind, would you please deign to inform me of the size of that ample bosom of yours? Ah, this isn't for anything indecent. I simply wanted to bequeath to you a gift of lingerie."

"Araragi-sama. Asking that of a woman you've just met is not exactly praiseworthy. I do have the awareness that it was just a joke to lighten the mood, but I think you should refrain from saying things you will regret ten or even twenty years later."

She reprimanded me normally. Reprimanded by a princess. A naked princess.

When in front of a princess at the level that could make me kill myself due to being made aware of my own diminutiveness, it was less a joke to lighten the mood and more a technique for my own survival—however, I'm probably the only person that would take care to not kill themselves while in heaven.

"I—regretted it. The fact that I lived."

"......"

"I should have died. Before I even met Suicidemaster."

At first, I thought that she meant that she didn't want to be a vampire, that she wished to be human again, just like me. But when she continued, I realized that she meant the exact opposite.

"For that reason, I ended up placing a heavy, heavy burden on Suicidemaster."

This princess. She didn't regret having her blood be sucked.

She regretted making her suck her blood.

To this day, not a day has gone by that I haven't regretted my spring break when I was seventeen, when I helped and fought against vampires. But I don't think I had ever regretted it in the same way she did.

"And so—even while I knew it was an outrageous act, I couldn't help but pull you up as you were about to go to hell for her."

It seemed the conversation had circled back around.

Well, for a princess who is not only beautiful in appearance but beautiful in mentality, she surely would not display any self-centered conversation skills, even if she did go at her own pace.

"If the me that has become your partner, the me that you know, has forgotten all about the me that is right here, then that is not because the six hundred long years of her life has worn those memories away, but because she hated me, hated me to the point that it couldn't be helped."

"...Is that also regret?"

No.

She'd avoided even regret itself.

That's why—she made it as if it never happened.

She'd convinced herself that she'd been a born vampire.

If she was a vampire with the astonishing technique of physically tinkering with her brain to recover lost memories, then perhaps even the opposite was possible.

"Indeed. What I regretted, filling myself with regret to the point that I might burst, was not that I had become a vampire, but that I had been a human before that. That I had been a princess—that I had been myself."

"To the point that that chest of yours might burst—"

"Araragi-sama."

She stopped me just by calling my name—it seemed that even these rude jokes might end with me killing myself.

Now that I was in my first year of college, I wouldn't do anything like get flustered by the naked bodies of women, but at the same time, it felt like it would be even ruder to be all composed and unwavering in front of a nude woman behaving in a dignified manner.

It seemed to me like my etiquette as a gentleman was being tested.

"And so, that must be why I was separated from my soul, and this half-baked soul of mine was sent to heaven—a fitting punishment for me."

A soul where even heaven was punishment.

It was difficult for the average person to understand that feeling, but it seemed that, just as Oshino Shinobu and I held an inseparable bond, so did Princess Acerola and Suicidemaster—so much so that they had to be separated.

When Shinobu had been reminiscing, she'd spoken of her master with such ease that it was hard to believe that they held such a fierce relationship, as if she was like a college student talking about a senior from her hometown (a common occurrence—how envious)—so, essentially, she'd forgotten why she forgot, and she'd forgotten why she wanted to forget, forgetting everything altogether.

It sounded stupid when I put it like that, but when I saw the separated Princess Acerola in front of me like this, it wasn't a laughing matter.

"I'm sure you are here because you've accepted it, and I don't have the intention, nor the qualification, to console you, but isn't that something you shouldn't be worrying about...? Because, after all, vampires are destined to suck blood—"

"I can say this only because I have been a vampire myself, but a vampire sucking blood does have a different nuance than, say, Mr. Lion or Mr. Bear attacking humans."

Mr. Lion or Mr. Bear?

Why was she acting like a fairytale princess for children for just that?

"I think it is unreasonable to talk about vampires who prey on humans in the same vein as carnivorous animals. Though I am glad to hear you say such words."

"No... I'm sorry that words are all I have."

No, maybe I'd said too much.

It was possible that I really didn't have the intention of consoling Princess Acerola, and while I was acting like I was talking to her, I was really talking to myself.

It wasn't something to worry about.

But I should still worry about it. For the rest of my life. Or perhaps, for eternity.

"However."

Said Princess Acerola.

"If those points are to be considered similar—then it would mean that I had ended up changing the ecosystem of endangered animals. And that is, perhaps, an even greater sin."

"......?"

What did she mean by that? Ecosystem?

Before I could question the meaning of that monologue (which I couldn't just let pass, seeing as I was more or less majoring in the sciences), she continued. "It may be too late now, but I want to help Suicidemaster, even if it means protecting an endangered species," she declared.

She declared, beautifully.

"That will not lessen the weight of my sin, and it is possible it will only lead to my regrets worsening even further. But even so, I intend to do what I have to do."

What she has to do.

What she has to regret.

"I can no longer turn a blind eye to the present situation, and leave Suicidemaster in the state she's in."

The naked little girl.

Well, the nakedness wasn't relevant—the mummified little girl.

The mummy that had dried up so much—it was hard to even look at.

"—Basically, Princess, it wasn't that you were trying to prevent me from visiting hell in search of a cure, but that you saw me about to descend into hell, and thought, 'He isn't that bad of a person.' And then you pulled me up for the sake of saving Miss Suicidemaster, right?"

"Yes. I truly do not believe you are that bad of a person, Araragi-sama."

Even her honesty had a virtuous beauty to it.

It was to the point that I wanted to introduce her to the members of the Pretty Boy Detective Club, who I had befriended the other day.

"If I were your friend, I think I would recommend that you take a leisurely trip to hell at another opportunity."

If the princess who destroyed countries was going to recommend a vacation like that, then it seemed I would have to reevaluate the way I lived. But in that case, I would gratefully accept her support.

If I could, I would borrow even the help of a cat (though the Araragi style of doing things was "I would borrow specifically the help of a cat"), but if it was the princess herself offering her hand, then I couldn't not kneel down and kiss her.

"You said this was a recreation of your birthplace, Princess Acerola—um, can I find a Blood Pond Hell in heaven, too? Somewhere that's fairly close by, and easy to procure from—"

"There is no Blood Pond Hell in heaven. There is none in this world, in the same way there is no place here where either me or Araragi-sama can belong."

I was told something pretty terrible.

But, well, of course... In that case, it would be the Blood Pond Heaven. I couldn't help but imagine a Blood Pond Heaven as something sumptuous and immoral.

It didn't seem heaven-like.

So, if she didn't invite me to a haven where I didn't belong to recommend a cheaper generic drug with the same effectiveness but at a lower price...

"Could it possibly be that we were off the mark this whole time? Are you warning me that ladling out a cup of medicine from the Blood Pond Hell won't be the wonder drug to revive Miss Suicidemaster like we were thinking?"

Well, it wasn't the kind of treatment you'd find in a "Family Medicine" book... It had been a suggestion from none other than Hachikuji Mayoi, not only a god, but also someone who had had experience in hell.

To put it one way, it was like folklore that had been thought up by folklore; to put it another way, I may as well have been trying to go to hell to pray for rain.

Like a meaningless sacrifice, or a sacrifice chosen by lottery...

"No, no, it is not like that at all. As a treatment for Suicidemaster in that state... Yes, it would be Ultra-C."

She'd worded things in a way a youngster like me would get... Unfortunately, there was a significant margin of error, but I was glad for her concern.

"The Blood Pond Hell, a soup simmered with the karma of people, can act as a health drink not just for Suicidemaster, but for any vampire in the world... However."

That person surely will not drink it.

She surely will not accept it.

That was what Princess Acerola asserted.

"Because she's a gourmet. An epicure, and a high-class one, at that—she will never consume anything that doesn't go along with what she wants."

When she said that, I remembered what Shinobu had told me about Suicidemaster's personality.

She would only eat the lives of whoever she killed herself.

In that way, she was quite the stoic vampire.

"The Blood Pond Hell, if you will, is a buffet of sorts, filled with the blood of people in every possible variation. Do you like buffets, Araragi-sama?"

"Huh? Well, I guess."

The buffets that I was familiar with were mainly the sweets buffets that I was taken to by my girlfriend, but the glamorous party-like atmosphere was very exciting.

In that case, perhaps I could expect a similar sort of placebo effect from the Blood Pond Hell—however.

"Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster prefers service a la carte."

Said Princess Acerola, continuing the analogy.

"The idea of that new god was rather flexible, and I would value it as rather original. However, in this world, there are some patients that refuse to accept rational treatment—there are some that refuse to even see a doctor."

People that wanted to die naturally, huh.

They didn't want to live long to the point of defying their fate—well, that also concerned the matter of euthanasia or death with dignity, so it wasn't something that a youngster like me could talk about lightly. But there were certainly people that thought that way.

"A youngster, you say? Please don't abandon that thought, and keep thinking about it. You already have the right to vote, after all."

And why are you so knowledgeable about the state of Japanese politics?

Is everything we do, including right now, completely transparent to heaven? In that case, does that mean that the princess knows the truth behind this incident?—I nonchalantly tried to fish for information.

"If Miss Suicidemaster is such a gourmet, or rather, such a picky eater—then she's likely to be biased towards the targets she attacks as a vampire, right?"

For example, high school girls. More specifically, the members of a high school girls' basketball team.

"I would like to ask you not to probe for information. The fact that I could arrange this point of contact with you is not exactly commendable in itself."

Oof. It was a little hard to press for information if she told me that directly.

Or rather, I was pretty embarrassed that she'd figured out I was trying to probe for information.

"No matter what, I will always be on the side of Suicidemaster. It is like testimony from a family member—please consider my words to be unreliable."

"......"

"However, it is not that I know everything about this, either... The only advice that I can give you, Araragi-sama, is that if you wish to obtain the wonder drug that will become the nectar for Suicidemaster, then instead of getting it from a drink bar with variations of blood, you should extract that blood from someone that has been carefully selected."

For example.

For example, the blood of someone like me.

With that, "Princess Beauty", the completely nude princess, raised a hand to the demon mask upon her face.

Huh? Was she going to take it off?

Why now?

"Please close your eyes."

Being asked to do so, I finally (even though it should have been the first thing I did when I saw an adult woman in the nude) closed my eyes.

Because of her brilliance, an ordinary person would be blinded if they looked directly upon her countenance—that was how dangerous it was to look upon the beauty of "Princess Beauty".

She knew that from the very beginning.

That's why, even in heaven where exposing your body was the basis and nudity was the dress code, she appeared before me wearing a demon mask—so then, why was she suddenly trying to take off the mask now, without any context?

"That is, of course," the princess said.

I couldn't tell for because I'd already shut my eyes, but she must have already taken off her mask, for the sound of her voice had become even more beautiful—that muffled sound that came from behind the mask was gone.

And that voice was extremely close.

I had no idea when she had gotten that close, to the point that I could feel her breath.

That beautiful voice was coming from a distance where our lips were almost touching each other.

"If I am still wearing a mask, then I cannot place my lips on top of yours."

"Wha?"

"That was the reason why I asked you to close your eyes—"

I didn't understand what Princess Acerola meant when she spoke to me in an admonishing way, and though I opened my mouth to ask what she actually meant.

She shut me up with a kiss.

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