beating da fuck up outta hiori and licking his blood // tw: blood, violence || 450 wc sorry
ābabeāā
a choke of blood. a stamp of spit. his voice beaten out by a thump of skin against bone.
drumming, thrumming, like a rhythmic dance your soul was drawn to. there was no rhythm, though, just fists dropping and rising, and dropping and rising. a crunch could be heard, thrown into this messy rhythm. and sometimes when you miss your mark, a nauseating squelch mumbled out of his body.
you breathe, almost as heavily as his moans. your knuckles stained red, aching against the texture of hioriās skeleton. your knees groaned as you rose to examine your loverāor what remained of him after your nails ached for his muscle under them, your feet screeched for his skull under them.
āyo-chanā¦ā you whispered, already knowing youād get no response. the blood on him seemed to shine in the pale, flickering light of the room. it looked appetizingā¦
you bent back down and laid on the floor with him, slipping in the blood rapidly trickling out from his eye. you giggled. it looks as if you were just laying back in bed with him after a long day, finding comfort in each otherās presence, the shared breath and the teasing touches under the blanket. now all you two had was the damp air filling the room and the warmth of your blushing cheeks, so utterly in love with him in this state.
you brush aside his stained blue hair, revealing his eyes to you. what beautiful blue eyes he has, skin so soft and clearer than the empty sky. a sky that was painted with a beautiful red sunset, revealing streaks in the air that dripped down his nose and collected on the floor. blood that slowly flowed down his skin, the sky, your world.
cupping his face in your hands and tilting his limp head towards you even closer, you lean in and kitty lick the blood on his face. immediately, that familiar taste explodes inside your mouth. you lean in and lick up, all the way from the tip of his nose from the top of his forehead, gathering his warm blood onto your tongue.
gulping down your loverās blood, you continue, leaving a trail of saliva as you cleanse him, eat him, savour him. it wasnāt as if the taste was addicting. it was the feeling of your tongue sliding over his skin, the texture of his pores that was making you come back for more. it was the warmth of his blood, fleeting the more you drank.
and after he was licked clean, washed by your tongue, you stayed there with him, hoping for the next time youāll make him bleed and lick his life away..
notes: i apologize for the hiatus... been very busy lately... i do have lots of things planned tho.
Synopsis: Thereās a letter in your mailbox. Itās from your uncle, the same one whoād pushed you out of your home over a year ago. Heās missed you just the way you missed him, your home finally being opened back up to you. The farm is just like you remember; But everyone is giving you weird looksā¦ And the only man you came for is no where to be seen. Where has your uncle gone? And why do all of your dreams whisper suspicions about Hiori?
Content Warnings: Possessive and Obsessive Behaviour, Injury and Blood, Kidnapping, Manipulation.
A/N: drastic nose dive in terms of plot compared to rin and kaiserš but c'est la vie. this is still very much part of my au collection <3333 banner and au inspired by ko.himearts on tiktok!!
āIf you donāt hand in these last few projects in time, then youāll be dipping below the cut-off mark. At that point, we might have to suspend your studies here..ā
Your university advisor stares deep into your eyes, a trace of pity infiltrating the stoic mask sheās still trying to put up. And underneath that, you can see the slight boredom slowly trickling off her features; This isnāt the first time sheās telling you this, and youāre certain sheās just as tired of telling you than you are of hearing it. But you just canāt explain it to her, how fed up you are, this deep exhaustion thatās settled itself in your bones, strong enough to deter you from any work and weak enough to bend under the whims of meaningless activities that only keep your attention for five minutes at a time.
You know if you even try to tell her that the report stapled to her clipboard doesnāt even cover half of the work youāve missed out on, she might retire right then and there. So you keep your mouth shut, nodding along to the silence that blasts in both of your ears as time ticks by. Eventually, she lets out a resigned sigh, jotting down notes you canāt read on the report in front of her.
āWeāll stop here for now, try doing as much as you can during this weekend. You still have two weeks before the term ends.ā
The weather is just as bleak as you feel when you exit her office; Ash grey clouds hanging right above your head, drifting over the campus landscape with a lazy amble. You stretch your worn out headphones over your hair, barely paying attention to the song they start playing as you begin the slow journey back to your dorm building. Each step feels like itās taking more and more of your energy, the feeling of concrete bits biting into your shoes sending tremors that go straight to your head, aggravating the headache youād tried to ignore earlier.
The sound of your phoneās notification cuts through your music with a sharp ding, snapping your brain back into focus, temporarily stopping it from melting through your shoes under the weight of your fatigue. You donāt even have to unlock the device to notice it, the only notification to grace your empty phone, a simple message from one of your dorm mates.
K
hey could you pick up my mail for me? not coming back frm lectures till 6
thx
16:49pm
You switch the device off as quickly as youād turned it on, looking up to see the roof of your accommodation slowly coming into view. It isnāt a big ask, with your houseās mailbox only a few minutes away with the rest of the mail slots, and itās on the way for you anyway. You make a mental note to ask your dorm mate to buy you snacks on the way back as a thank you, while you cut across the field to your dormās reception.
Itās easy to find the mail your dorm mate is talking about, a light blue letter with his name written across it in very fancy handwriting, right at the top of the pile basically stacked to the top of the cramped box. A lot of the ones at the bottom look old, bits of dust coating the corners as some of the brighter looking ones are starting to age. You reach a hand in once more, pressing your fingers to the back of the metal box as you scoop all the letters out in one smooth motion. Your flatmates would almost never come to check, and the mail would just keep piling up until you got an e-mail about it.
The letters make a soft crinkling sound as they hit the dark wood of your communal dining table, scattering into their own separate corners. Most of them are spam mail, advertisements and other small letters addressed to your house mates. Youāre about to head up to your room, ready to crash until the guilt of not doing any work wakes you up again, until you spot something, written in small, hastily scrawled letters on the corner of one of the envelopes.
Itās an address, one you used to have memorised a long time ago before your university address replaced it in your mind, but you could still recognise it from a mile away. Picking up the small envelope tells you all you need to know, itās addressed to you, a shaky heart drawn right next to your name which takes up more than half the white paper.
Thereās only one person you know that would send you a letter like this, old-fashioned in a time when everyone just sends each other text messages, which just makes you all the more confused. The only relative youāre that close to would be your uncle, the man who took you in and raised you for practically your entire life. You turn the letter over in your hands, gentle as if itāll turn to dust if you blow on it too hard, your mind playing brief flashes of the last time youād seen him.
Startled wasnāt enough of a word to describe it; He was scared to death. Of what? Youāll never know. All you remember was him kicking you out, screaming, forcing you to apply for university as far away from your little town as possible. That hadnāt been the plan; Youād wanted to stay and help out with his farm after high school, you still do.
But the way your uncle had screamed that day, even going behind your back to register you and packing your things before your acceptance letter could even arrive. You had no choice but to leave.
Even if it was odd for him, the kind man you grew up with suddenly losing his mind, you imagined he wouldnāt contact you again after that. But here it is, the only contact youāve had with your uncle in a year. The first part of the page-long letter are greetings, questions about your life at school, how you were managing, updates about the farm. He writes like the two of you have been exchanging letters since you came here, that gentle tone he always used with you reaching you even through the paper.
Itās the next few paragraphs that settle in your gut like a stone, leaving a hard lump in your throat as your eyes struggle to blink away unshed tears.
Iām sorry kiddo, you know I love you, I shouldnāt have spoken to you like that last time we talked. Try and find it in your heart to forgive your good old uncle, hm? Itās been so long, everyone here misses you dearly. Come back and visit whenever you have time off school. Iāll make whatever you want for dinner, promise not to ruin the kitchen this time.
P.S: Hiori says hi
Love,
Your favourite uncle
You donāt know how long youāve been standing there, staring at the letter, finally letting some of the tears roll down your cheeks and onto the thin paper, but you know itās long enough for the sun to sink below the horizon, itās warm golden light shifting across the floor through your peripheral vision.
āHey.. are you okay?ā
Itās your flatmate, one of the quieter ones you donāt speak to but are still cordial with, his hand on your shoulder as he scans the tears dripping down your face with an evident concern. You wipe them away quickly, folding the letter into the pocket of your clothes with a quiet urgency before turning back to him.
āYeah, Iām fine donāt worry about it. I uh.. picked up everyoneās mail, it was just sitting in our mail box.ā
You watch him nod, scepticism swirling around in his gaze until you finally storm off, taking the stairs two at a time as the letter burns hot in your pocket. The paperās still clutched in your hand by the time you settle yourself at your room desk, your gaze scanning over that last paragraph so many times youāre certain you could recite it by heart.
Itās not hard to place how you feel; Youāve missed the farm, youāve missed your uncle, you especially miss the beastman your uncle used to adopt to help around the massive plot of land you called home, your mind playing images of a small, cyan haired boy who used to follow you around everywhere. It was also glaringly obvious how much you needed a break from lectures, every time you opened up your laptop to clear out more of your outstanding work, it doubles in volume.
A few clicks later and youāre staring at your schedule, carefully looking for any spaces you can fit the sudden trip into. You have your last classes for the week tomorrow before the weekend, and as if luck itself was shining down on you, you had the first three days of next week completely free. Five days was more than enough time to visit your uncle and relax enough to make you feel like youāve rested.
It takes you four more minutes to convince yourself before youāre buying your train ticket home, watching the money leave your account with a slight grimace but an anxious excitement swirling around in your stomach.
ā¦
The train ride over is beyond exhausting; With every platform you cross, every new train you get on, your bag weighs down heavier in your hands, siphoning the energy from your bones until youāre seated on the last train between your home town and the next town over. Youāre beginning to get tired of the view from your window seat.
The landscape had transitioned from grey buildings, red brick and yellow light windows blurring past from the speed of the train to a rush of dark and light greens as you entered the countryside.
Your travel fatigue eventually catches up to you as you enter the cab youād ordered to pick you up from the station. The cool pane pressing against your forehead in a motion that only makes you sleepier. Itās feels like the taxi driverās going slower for your sake, every time you sluggishly open your eyes again, familiar places grace your sleepy gaze.
Parks you used to run around freely under your uncleās caring gaze, neighbourās houses you had stopped at to collect and deliver produce. Seeing everything again after what feels like forever to you warms your heart again, almost sending another wave of tears straight to your eyes.
Only a few minutes later and youāre standing in front of your uncleās farm again, your home. The sound of the cabās tires against the gravel as it drives away barely registers in your mind while you stand there for what feels like forever, staring with this absolute joy on your face that youāre certain makes you look like a crazy person.
āExcuse me.. can I help you?ā
It was already evening by the time you arrived, so you hadnāt expected many of the hybrid workers to still be wandering around. But the meek voice that reaches your ears forces your mind to snap back to attention, your gaze zeroing in on the beastman thatās standing in front of you now. He looks like a cow hybrid; Small yellowed horns poking out of his hair, sitting right above the brown and white speckled ears that match the spots on his face.
The gentle confusion on his face melts into a dawning recognition, before turning into a complicated misery that you canāt seem to understand. You didnāt know all of the beastmen your uncle had brought in, but you assumed they knew you, your pictures hanging all over the main house as well as the fact that your uncle loved bragging about you to anyone who bothered to listen. You flash him what you hope is a polite smile, reaching your free hand out to him before his next words make you freeze.
āWhat are you doing here? Why now?ā
Your hand falters a bit, the smile on your face now reshaping to form a confused frown that matches his.
āIām.. here to visit? Whereās my uncle? Whatās going on?ā
It doesnāt seem like heās listening to a word you say, his gaze flicking down to your outstretched hand before it comes back up to your face, like he canāt believe youāve come back to your own home. You knew your visit was very impromptu, and long overdue, but this seemed like an overreaction to what you thought wouldāve been a happy moment.
āWhy did it take you this long to-ā The beastman pauses, taking in a deep breath like you were a stubborn stain he was trying to clean out. āNever mind, Iāll take you to the guest rooms..ā
Youāre still beyond confused, going over what you couldāve possibly done to make a beastman youāre sure your uncle treasured act like this, but the look he gives you over his shoulder sends your legs into action as you trail behind him, the excitement youād felt just a few minutes ago solidifying into a cold unease.
The bed in your room is hard.
A solid block of mattress that somehow doesnāt even compare to the one in your accommodation, digging into your back with a toughness that makes your back throb painfully by the time you get up at six in the morning, eyes bleary from the sleep your new bed had stolen from you throughout the night.
You sit there for longer than necessary, trying to blink the tiredness away as you stare into the rustic, floral wallpaper of your new room. Itās worn, peeling at the corners where it meets the roomās dusty furniture, previously bright green stripes with vivid red roses faded into a muddled cacophony that practically assaults your eyes. Your childhood bedroom was a lot better than this, at least from what you remembered.
A lick of dust would never be able to even touch your room with how hard your uncle was with chores; And at the same time, he would be the first person to take you to the nearest hardware store whenever you wanted to redecorate.
The influx of memories make you sigh, your legs aching even more than your back as you throw them over the bed frame, stretching out as many knots as you can in one fluid motion. Your sleepy haze snaps into two with a sharp knock that raps on the room door, making your shoulders practically jump to your ears in shock.
The cow beastman from yesterday is standing there when you open the door, the cold look that had plagued his face last evening still there. Heās holding a clip board in his hands, tilting the board towards you until you take it into your own hands.
āI spoke with our acting farm head and he agreed to let you take over. These are the tasks boss used to do everyday..ā
The clipped papers are mostly filled with inventory forms, managerial notes on the state of each barn and plot of land spread across the second page. The work is simple enough, or at least easier than the actual manual labour you used to do when you were younger. A nagging feeling lodges itself in the back of your throat, you hadnāt come here to work at all, the early Saturday morning practically calling you back into bed.
But the way this hybrid is talking about your uncleās work, the words āacting farm headā reverberating in your head, creasing your brows into a perplexed frown. You open and close your mouth a few times, struggling to find the words before you finally look up.
āI donāt mind taking over, but did something happen to my uncle?ā
A weird look passes over the beastmanās face, like you just forced him to eat a bowl of lemons before you go ahead with the work, but itās gone before you can point it out. You watch him let out a deep sigh, bowing at a slight angle before walking away, muttering something about getting you a proper uniform tomorrow.
You stand by the open door for a while, the hurt and confusion youād felt yesterday coming back full force. A small part of you had hoped it was something about your arrival that had upset him, but itās clear thatās not true, and whatever heās upset about has something to do with your uncle.
ā¦
The farm is still in near perfect condition, that much made sense to you. Your uncleās stern need for everything to be perfect, combined with the way he trained both you and the beastmen he picked up meant this place could keep running even if he went on vacation for years on end. Your check list is starting to dwindle, the list of things that need fixing is even shorter. But thatās not the thing thatās getting to you, making your weekend a dull occasion.
The way that cow hybrid had treated you wasnāt because he had a problem with you, it was apparently a farm wide thing. Every barn you stopped at, every crop field manned by beastman youād practically grown up with became a frozen wasteland against the rays of the blinding sunlight, the icy stares they gave you as you passed by enough to deter you from greeting any of them. You canāt wrap your head around it, the only theory in your mind being that everyone was upset youād taken so long to come back and visit. Maybe your uncle had cried himself into a stupor before heād finally sent that letter because you hadnāt remained in contact with any of them.
But even if thatās it, none of them were there to witness the argument youād had with your uncle, the panicked fury on his face, the way heād shipped you off to university without a second thought after spending the last thirteen years telling you he loved you like his own child.
What kind of person would rush back home after an argument like that?
Your frantic thoughts are interrupted by a firm pair of arms wrapping themselves around your waist, and before you can turn to see who it is, youāre being lifted off the ground, a terrified scream shooting out of your throat as your legs curl in on the upper half of your body. The clipboard and pen you were holding clatter into the grass while your main focus remains on swinging your arms as wildly as you can, turning your head maniacally to get a good look of the person holding you in the air like a child.
ā..I thought I was dreaminā for a second, but itās actually you..ā
The panic drains out of you in five seconds flat, your limbs going slack against the hands still holding you as you finally pay attention. You know whoās voice that is, the light cyan hair and the fluffy white fur swaying gently in your peripheral vision confirms everything for you.
Hiori is a lot taller than the last time you saw him, so much so that heās towering almost three heads above you when the last you remember, both of you where the same height. His hair is a lot longer too, the short bowl-cut he used to have grown into a nice short hairstyle that frames his much bigger, yellowed horns perfectly. The black undershirt, and green apron all the beastmen wear not bothering to cover the way his arms bulk up, bigger in the kind of way you only get from manual labour. You finally get to hug him properly when he puts you down, his deep rumbling laughter echoing in your head as you press your body into the fabric of his uniform.
āJesus, Yo! Youāre so tall now, what has uncle been feeding you?ā
He laughs, a gentle breathy laughter that barely breaks the joy on his face. It doesnāt seem like heās listening, his attention on scanning your face fitfully, his thumb smoothing across your cheek, pinching the skin between his fingers, drawing small giggles from you that he reciprocates without a second thought.
Before long, both of you are trudging along the barns, talking like you two had never separated. Hiori only asks a few questions which you respond to with long stories and complaints. You blather on about university; How difficult your second year has been to you, all the crazy memories youād made with your dorm mates. You talk for so long your mouth starts to go dry, with you letting out a few perfunctory coughs before youāre back to talking.
With how cold everyone was being with you, you almost forgot what it felt like to hold a proper conversation, and you almost forgot how easy it was to talk to Hiori. Your uncle had brought him in only a year after he adopted you, one of the first beastmen heād brought onto the farm as a helper. The two of you got on immediately because you were so close in age. He was the only beastman youād fully grown up with, from childhood all the way till you left for university.
āWhatās wrong?ā
Both of you are leaning against a nearby fence, revelling in the shade of the tree right above you. He mustāve noticed the frown that passed over your features, concern now shining in the yellowish green of his sclera. You dig your sneakers into the dirt, shifting the sand back and forth while your face burns hot under the weight of his gaze.
āAh.. Itās nothing much. Just..ā You let out a small sigh, turning to him fully. āI only came back ācus I wanted to see uncle, but I havenāt seen him since. And no one wants to tell me anything, did I do something wrong?ā
Hiori thinks for a while, gloved hand stationery against his chin while he stares up into the distance. A solid minute passes before he turns back to you, mischief replacing the concern in his eyes.
āApart from abandoning us? No.ā He lets out a loud laugh when you smack his shoulder, moving out of the way too slow to dodge your wrath. āIām kiddinā, relaxā
āEveryoneās probably trying to get used to you being back, ās all.ā You let him place his hand on your head, barely managing to shake it of as he lightly ruffles your hair. āAnd your uncle went into town for a bit, yāknow how good he is with livestock.. everyone wants his help.ā
The smile on Hioriās face feels tighter now, almost awkward, the kind of smile a child would give their parent as they would hope not to get caught in a lie. You want to smack yourself immediately for thinking that, and by the time you look at him properly, itās gone, replaced with the gentle one that always stayed fixed on his face. For a second, both of you just stand there staring at each other, the need to ask for more details or for a ride into town to find your uncle on the tip of your tongue.
But the sound of someone calling for Hiori breaks through your silent conversation, both of you turning your heads to see another beastman waving in the distance. Hiori pushes himself off the fence, dusting off his uniform before smiling at you one more time, reaching out to brush your cheek.
āIāll talk to everyone for you, donāt worry your pretty head about itā
You give a small wave to his retreating back, a slight shiver wracking through your body as your fingers ghost over where heād just touched your cheek, an odd feeling taking hold in your chest, settling itself there until you trudge back to your room.
Your limbs fail the second you get back to the guest room, crashing into the firm mattress without even changing first. Sleep comes easily, pulling itās invisible blanket over your form faster than it ever had in university, the stress of thinking about forgotten submissions and sideways glances gone as your subconscious finally goes under.
Itās probably been several hours since you fell asleep, but you canāt tell, the deep sleep parting to give way as your heavy eyelids flutter open, taking in a sight that makes you shoot up immediately. Youāre outside, sitting in the patch of grass furthest away from your home, just before the barn right at the edge of the farm. For a second, you think youāve sleepwalked all the way out here, lying in the grass till morning, your heart dropping straight into your stomach.
The sound hits your ears immediately, even from where you are, you can hear it resonating in your head like a deep echo. Someoneās calling your name; A gruff shout that tapers off at the end in a way that signals the callerās tired annoyance.
Glancing back at the house only makes you more confused, your gaze zeroing in on a tiny blob hobbling in the distance. The blob gets bigger and bigger, the haze partially obscuring it clearing the closer it gets.
Itās a child; A chubby little thing that canāt be older than six years old, running probably at what they think is full speed, several cookies in their hands and a few stuffed into the oversized overalls theyāve donned, their choppy hairstyle flying in the wind with every step they take. Things donāt click in your head until the child has fully run past you, the high-pitched giggles emanating from their lips almost forming an actual trail in the air behind them.
You must be having some weird realistic dream.
You follow your little six year old clone carefully, an involuntary smile tugging at the corners of your lips, the temptation to pat yourself on the head nearly taking over as they run deeper into the farm. Your dream self starts to slow down once both of you arrive at the fence separating your uncleās farm from the forest behind it, the perfect child-sized hole under a part of the white wood sparking memories in your mind. You recognise the place before your child clone can duck under the panelling.
It was a tiny nook in the farm, your own slice of privacy the second youād grown up enough to start craving it. You remember all the times you would get into trouble for sneaking into that forest, your uncle knew that was where you were disappearing to, he just didnāt know how you were getting there.
Your body phases through the fence, physics not applying to your dream no matter how realistic it was. Your child self takes the proper route, pushing their ever-growing body under the small crack until theyāre on the other side, the whole back of their overalls covered in mud and sand. They stop for a second, checking their pockets to make sure the snacks theyād worked so hard to steal were still intact, smiling to themselves for a split second before their adventure is interrupted. Both you and your dream self turn to the forest ahead, the obvious sound of sniffling and hiccuping reaching your ears at the same time.
The clone reacts a lot faster than you do, leaping ahead over shrubs and branches like they arenāt lashing across their legs. You trail behind cautiously, letting an automatic concern flood through your veins as you watch yourself jump on a particularly big tree stump and jump right off.
The two of you arrive at a particularly withered tree, the crying at full volume now, and it takes five seconds to find out who it is, though a small part of you already knew. Itās Hiori; A significantly smaller version compared to the one that now towers over you today, tears shining in his light yellow eyes, his tiny ears drooped against his cyan bowl-cut, limbs trembling as he curls them inwards.
Your eyes narrow almost instinctively, trying to remember where you and Hiori stood at this point in time. Judging by the quiet sliver of sadness settled on your dream selfās features, not a bit of confusion, it mustāve been only a few months after your uncle had brought him home. Youād spoken to him a few times back then, but he mostly spent his time with your uncle, learning how the farm worked before he actually got to doing manual labour.
āWhatācha doing?ā
Hearing your own voice like this feels surreal, the slight country accent you used to have peeking out of every word, your child self drawing out the end of the question like theyāre trying to fill a word count.
Hiori looks up in surprise, nearly welding himself into the tree with how much heās pressed against it, the tears stopping for only a second before theyāre back full force.
ā āM hiding..ā He murmurs, burrowing his face deeper into his folded arms.
āWhy?ā
You almost want to tilt your head along with the replica of your dreams, just to gain back a bit of the simple curiosity softly emanating from such a simple question. Hioriās balled fists come up to wipe the tears still flowing down his face, leaving his fur matted in the trails the tears leave.
āI canāt do any farm workā¦ itās too hard. Iām not good at planting seeds and, and the dirt makes my hands itch. And thereās worms in the ground...ā
He turns to your younger self like the existence of worms in dirt is a ground breaking discovery he just made, his light pink nose twitching as he sniffs one last time before breaking into a fresh wave of tears.
āIām going to get thrown away..ā
Your inability to comfort people shines through when your clone plops themselves on the dirt right beside Hiori, patting a confident fist against their chest, their mouth curved into a boastful smile.
āMy uncle says Iām really bad with the farm too!ā They lean in conspiratorially, pulling the hem of Hioriās shirt as they whisper in his ear. āOne time, I left nails on the floor, it was an accident! But uncle stepped on one and he had to get a shot in his foot..ā
The six year old version of you smiles like the memory is a fond one, their tiny hand patting Hioriās shoulder as if he wasnāt the older one between both of you.
āI did that and I didnāt get kicked out!ā
Their words donāt look like theyāre comforting Hiori the way youād intended at the time, the tears start to dry up but his face stays in a perpetual frown.
āThatās ācus your uncle loves youā¦ if he kicked you out he would be sad..ā
The other child barely thinks for a second, their head hung as their fingers play with the dirt in front of their legs.
āWell I like you.. so uncle canāt kick you out! Or Iāll be sadā
Hiori finally stops sniffling for the first time in that moment, already big eyes blown wide as he stares at your younger self, the tips of his ears pink in a small way only you can see from your third person view. He shuffles towards the child version of you, eyes gleaming with a new found emotion that you canāt place for some reason, almost like an exaggerated joy you canāt fully describe.
āReally? You mean it?ā
You watch yourself nod fervently, grabbing Hioriās hand as the two of them link pinkie fingers, faces now melted into childish excitement.
āMhm! And Iāll like you forever and ever so uncle can never kick you out!ā
You wake up breathless, the dream almost having took all the energy out of you. It was a happy memory, one you actually donāt mind reliving as you get out of bed once more, bending your back in enough angles to crack it properly. But there was something about it, something about seeing the two of you interact from anything other than the view of your childish innocence.
For now, you donāt even try to pick up the empty clip board sitting on your bedside table, every cell in your body dragging you down the hallway and up the stairs until you reach a door you somehow know so much about without ever really stepping in.
Your uncleās office.
The door looks aged, small cracks peeking out at you from the edges of the solid block of wood, the angle of the light behind the door giving you a good view of how dusty the room must be. The only beastman allowed up here without your uncleās explicit permission was Hiori, and youād stopped coming up here a long time before that rule had been implemented, your uncle suddenly becoming strange about you coming in unannounced once you became a teenager.
The room is just as dusty as youād expected, a fine layer coating every surface and leftover item sitting on the floor. A series of sharp coughs crawl out of your throat the second you step in, the only thing you can use to protect your nose being the thin cotton of your sweatshirt. Once the shock of the amount of dust wears off, distrust soon takes itās place. Your uncle wasnāt the cleanest man on earth but even he would scream if he saw his office like this. And you couldnāt even call this dirty, your finger coming up light grey as you swipe it across a nearby drawer.
This was the kind of dust that came from weeks, if not months of inactivity.
Either way, you try your hardest to push whatever suspicions you have floating around in your mind aside, a few pictures on the wall quickly catching your attention. A lot of them are of you, in fact, all of them are. Portraits of you at different ages and monumental moments; Your first fireworks at 5, the first fish you had ever caught at 10, baking your first birthday cake at 12, your high school graduation at 17. You canāt tell whether itās the dust or the pictures that are bringing tears to your eyes.
A small gasp falls off your lips when you get to the next set of pictures, your fingers ghosting over the two framed portraits, afraid to even touch them directly. You havenāt seen these pictures in such a long time; Your nose, the shape of your jaw, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, split perfectly into two neat pictures, your parents smiling faces staring back at you.
You move down the wall carefully, smoothing a hand down the aged wallpaper, the woes of your dream fading into a dull thrum the settles in the back of your mind, easy-going smile spreading across your face.
The next few pieces strung up are most of your high school transcripts, a mix of B+ās, Cās and Dās scattered along the wall to form a patchwork of grades. Looking at them almost makes you cringe. Back then, youād tried your hardest with a lot of your subjects, but you simply couldnāt shake the feeling that your efforts didnāt matter. You would live your life taking care of the farm the same way your uncle had, so what was the point in trying?
It almost makes you laugh, you hadnāt thought ahead, couldnāt possibly predict your uncleās random outburst, and now you had carried your mediocrity into almost two years of university. Your gaze focuses on a bright orange sticky note attached to the wall, hanging between your graduation photo and the closest transcript, the sarcastic laughter that had previously bubbled up catching in your throat.
Thatās my baby!!
It doesnāt get any better for your already high emotions, your eyes flicking all over the room to stop the tears hanging off your lashes from actually falling when it stops at a separate piece of paper, the sticky note under it somehow shining even brighter. Itās your university acceptance letter, a copy of the original paper youād gotten in the mail.
I promised your parents I would give you a life better than mine. Youāll understand when youāre older ĖįµĖ
Youād never expected a real excuse as to why your uncle had pushed you out that day, and you assumed youād never get one.
You were more than ready to push the incident aside if you could just come back and see him once. His absence only makes your heart squeeze tighter; You want to tell him about how much youāre struggling, how youād rather be on the farm, how him pushing you away was a fate marginally worse than the life he thought you wouldāve hated here.
Your tear filled gaze tracks itās way across the room, scanning for anything else before it stops on the dark wooden desk right in the middle on the room. You hadnāt missed it when you originally stepped in, it was just so empty your eyes had moved past it automatically.
Thereās only two things sitting on the now mottled grey wood, a brown leather bound journal, and a letter that sits dangerously on the edge of the desk. You creep closer to the table, smoothing your fingers over the journal first. Itās handmade, you can tell from the leather itself, and if you ran your hands across the stitching inside, you would probably notice all the bumps and knots of your uncleās shoddy sewing skills. The peaceful smile fades from your face when you look at the letter properly; Your name scrawled across the envelope in chicken-scratch handwriting.
Itās practically identical to the one you picked out of your mailbox.
āWhat are you doing?ā
Your head snaps to the door, neck moving so quick it starts to ache immediately. But the slight pain is nothing compared to fear that shoots through your veins like ice, the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up.
Hiori stands in the doorway, completely still, gaze boring into your face like heās looking for something; Guilt? Fear? You canāt tell. His face is completely obscured by the poor lighting of the hallway, the only thing you can actually see are the curved horns sticking out of his head. Your gaze travels downwards unintentionally, the breath lodged in your throat hitching painfully at the red liquid dripping from his black gloves.
He follows your gaze down to his hands, slow, careful like heās trying not to frighten a small animal, his eyes glowing from behind the darkness as he stares back up at you. He finally steps into the room, peeling the gloves off with a detached indifference that makes your skin crawl, throwing them into the empty bin at the entrance of the room.
āAh.. relax, itās paint. You wanted one of the barns repainted. Wrote it in your report yesterday, remember?ā
Your eyes never leave him, not as he stops a few inches away from you, hands held in the air, the smile not reaching his eyes. He waits for what feels like hours, looking down at you with this gentle look that only increases your anxiety. Your body flinches, almost instinctively when his hand comes down to meet your face, gentle strokes with his thumb across your cheek.
āYour uncle wouldnāt like it if he caught you in here.. you know youāre not allowed.ā
His hand slips down around your waist in a smooth motion that leaves you winded, your head snapping back to the letter still laying peacefully on your uncleās desk, the envelope calling your name with every inch Hiori guides you past. Itās burnt into the forefront of your mind, the need to sprint back and open it settling under your skin until the office door slams shut behind both of you.
Itās another dream; The feeling of gravel digging into the soles of your feet splitting your eyelids open before you even realise youāre dreaming again, your bleary gaze swinging wildly as you try to gain your surroundings. Youāre in one of the barns scattered along your uncleās farm, the bright, shaky drawings spread across a few walls sparks recognition in your mind once more.
This was the barn you were in charge of when you still worked for your uncle, your first bit of actual responsibility, along with the meagre amount of similarly aged beastmen your uncle had also handed over to you, though they were your friends more than anything.
Just like youād expected, a child walks into the barn a second later, carrying a bucket filled with soap and water so heavy itās clearly taking everything in them not to drop it. Itās you again. Youāre a lot older in the dream, your slightly longer hair, the dark green and black work overalls practically dwarfing your form. You look to be about twelve now, age barely dimming the childish joy still swirling around in your gaze.
The twelve year old you drops the bucket in the sand, swiping a shaky hand across their sweaty face as they let out an exaggerated sigh, turning back to the barnās entrance with a huff, as if theyāre waiting for someone.
To your complete shock, Hiori isnāt the one to step into the barn a moment later, the memories of him following you around everywhere since that encounter with him in the forest clashing with the sight of the quiet looking sheep beastman that shuffles up to your dream self. Looking at the meek child, your heart squeezes painfully.
You knew her.
She was an anti-social hybrid that had ended up in your uncleās hands because no other farm wanted her. You remember how hard it had been to even speak to her, let alone become her friend.
āNo, Mari you have to do it like thisā
Your gaze snaps up to watch your dream self taking the girl, Mariās, hand before pressing a sponge into it, wiping the scraggly drawings off the barn walls. She letās a light laugh escape her lips, her wide yellow-green eyes crinkling softly, the horizontal lines of her irises focused solely on your younger self.
Itās hard watching her smiling face through your now blurry gaze; This was one of the last times youād seen her smile like this, before sheād gone back into her shell. Growing more and more miserable over the years until sheād essentially disappeared when you turned sixteen.
Looking at her now, you believe your uncleās words from back then even less, his theories that sheād run away still not making sense in your mind.
Both of them work in tandem, with you sweeping the barnās hay into a corner as Mari focuses on cleaning the walls like itās a government assigned project. The moment is peaceful, quiet for a while before your younger self drops the broom, sneaking up on Mariās unsuspecting back until theyāre throwing a handful of water at her, laughing when her shoulders jump up in fear.
The peace fades away from there, the two children dissolving into a fit of care free laughter, flinging soap and water all over the barn, all over each otherās clothes, ruining the barn theyād just worked so hard to clean just moments before. It seems like the dream could go on forever, with you watching a playback of your happiest memories, tears gathering on your lashes for the third time that second. But the low rumble of someone calling your name snaps the peaceful atmosphere in half, all three of you turning to find Hiori standing in the doorway, grown just a bit more than you had since the last dream.
The sight makes you flinch, the sun casting a chill shadow that obscures half of his features just the way youād seen him earlier today, the sight of his clothes dripping flashing in your mind, sending another wave of unease through your body.
āCome play with me..ā
His wording is ambiguous, but the way the sheen of his eyes remain trained on your younger self clearly says heās only talking to you, completely ignoring the now shivering child right beside you.
āAww Yo-chan Iām busy right now..ā Your younger self doesnāt seem to think anythingās wrong, their face crumpling into a sympathetic frown before it lights up once more. āBut you can come clean with us! Then we can all play afterā
Hiori barely even shifts, keeping his gaze tracked on your clone, his eyes narrowing slightly in the shadows heās still enclosed in.
āNo. I donāt want to play with her. You promised it would only be the two of us.ā
The temperature in the barn somehow drops several degrees, the icy indifference radiating off such a small child making even you shiver. Mariās shoulders keep trembling, the slight frown on her face now melted into full on gloom that nearly gives way to the tears shining in her eyes. A bout of silence passes through the open air, snaking around your limbs as you watch your younger self grab Mariās hand, dragging her along as you quickly exit the barn, still in a state of disarray.
āWell then weāre not playing with you, youāre being weird..ā
Your gaze never leaves Hioriās form, watching carefully as he turns to see your dream self leave, his hand clamping down on the barnās door, nearly splintering the wood. The dread in your throat doesnāt get the chance to fully choke you before the landscape is warping around you, mixing into a spiral of shapes, colours and senses until it forms the warmth of your houseās kitchen.
Two sets of childish giggles reach your ears in a split second, forcing you to turn your head towards the small bodies crowded around a kitchen cabinet, looking for something you canāt see. From their whispers, it seems like you and Mari are riffling around for snacks, taking advantage of your uncle being out of the house for his usual chores.
It almost works too, the bright wrappings of biscuits and chocolates filling both of their arms for only a minute before theyāre all clattering to the floor, the piercing clack of the kitchen door closing catching the childrenās attention.
For a second, the quick fear of being caught resonates in you too, sharp in the back of your mind until it slowly starts to melt into a harrowing recognition; The memory clicks in your brain, spreading a burning discomfort through your lungs. You know what happens next, but you still look up, studying the utter shock plastered on your twelve year old selfās face as they turn towards the door, Mari letting out a pained shriek that only makes her body tremble harder.
Hiori steps into the kitchen, pushing his hand forward so all three of you can see clearly. His hand is completely mangled; A jagged red scar running from the middle of his hand down to the inside of his elbow, the wound so deep you can almost see his bones under the pulp of oozing dark red and torn skin.
A scream that rivals Mariās tears itself out of your dream selfās throat, their legs rushing them towards Hiori as they try to cover the blood and gore with their oversized clothes. You spot your uncle running into the kitchen a second later, drawn in by the screams of what he considered his only children. But now, standing at the other entrance with the stunned replica of your uncle, youāre given a perfect view of the scene he had walked into, of what you couldnāt see back when your panic had forced you to focused on the marred wound.
The perfectly intact, serene smile spread across Hioriās face. His tender gaze directed only on you as a cacophony of screams and cries rise around him, like he wasnāt bleeding out his entire body weight in blood.
Your mouth tastes like ash, bones sagging deep into the mattress as the desire to get out of bed completely erases itself from your mind. The dream still burns underneath your eyelids, fear, shock and pain mixing together in your psyche, making your heart beat erratically.
You havenāt seen that scar in so long, you almost forgot it existed. The deformed gash hides under gloves and long sleeved uniforms, the last glimpse of it had been yesterday when Hiori peeled those filthy gloves off just to touch you. You can still feel it grating against your skin, searing a jagged line into your cheek like you had been the one cut up.
The sun makes itās journey across the sky, itās warm light filtering through the sliver under your curtains, fading from a pale yellow, to light blue, to the warm golden orange that signifies the afternoon sun. Your body barely moves an inch, arm flung over your eyes as you try to block out the frequent knocks rapping on your door, a quick clatter that came every hour.
Itās been too long before you finally let yourself rise, stumbling out of the room with a tired agony lacing every step, picking up the clip board left right in front of your door, barely looking at the tasks you have for the day while you trudge outside.
The sun bears down on your already withered form, slowing down your steps while you flit from barn to barn. A lot of the ones you noted down to report are freshly painted, a bit of it getting on your clothes as you accidentally run into one. But you canāt tell whether that settles the anxiety in your gut or makes it worse. At some point, your legs come to an abrupt halt, pausing right in front of the farmās entrance, gazing down at the path that leads down to the main town centre.
You only have two days left, and you still havenāt set eyes on the only man you came back for. Two days on this farm thatās starting to turn into a mottled plot of cold stares and bad memories, weighing down on your mind more than any coursework ever could. Your calves tremble slightly, tempted to push you forward until youāre moving past the farm, past the town and into the nearest train back home.
āMove out of the way.ā
Thereās a beastman standing behind you, a dog hybrid with a wheelbarrow clasped tightly in his hands, his shaggy black hair not even stifling the animosity radiating from his gaze. Your body moves aside automatically, eyes flicking down to the clip board still in your hands in embarrassment, before a muttered whisper reaches your ears, the words āfucking idiotā ringing in your mind.
āExcuse me?ā
The beastman turns around, fur shifting as he raises an eyebrow at you, the tired sag of his shoulders signifying his desire to end the conversation.
āI heard what you said, do you have a problem with me?ā
Irritation bubbles up in your throat, coating every inch of your words. You were already fed up, that dream youād had drained all the energy out of you, you didnāt have the time or patience for anyone today.
āOr is this some stupid prank you guys are pulling? What exactly has my uncle been teaching you all?ā
āYou have no right to talk about him like that.ā
The beastman finally speaks, dropping the wheelbarrow into the dirt with too much force, his hands balling into fists at his side, much to your anger.
āIāll talk about my family however I like! Who gave you permission to tell me-ā
āYou abandoned him.ā Heās breathing hard now, like an immature child throwing a tantrum. But his words make you freeze. āYou abandoned the boss when he needed you, and now youāre frolicking around like everythingās alright! You and that sheep boy of yours.ā
Both of you stand there in complete silence, a nagging feeling gnawing at the edges of your sanity. The words ring painfully in your head, the mention of Hiori bringing on a wave of anxiety coursing through your veins.
ā..What are you talking about?ā The words poke the roof of your mouth, a deep sense of suspicion turning them into lies that tastes like charcoal. āUncleās in town.. heās helping some of our neighbours. Yo-chan told meā¦ā
The beastman scoffs, finally picking the wheelbarrow back up again, turning like he canāt stand the sight of you.
āYou actually believe a word that sheep says? You donāt think heās strange? Then you really are an idiot.ā
Itās painful how much what he says makes sense. Everyone had been so shifty the second you mentioned your uncle, except Hiori. Why had you just taken his word for it? A heavy gaze directed at the back of your head forces you to turn, your eyes narrowing into the distance as you spot Hiori standing a while away from you, shears clutched tightly in his hands.
He stands there for a long time, the sweat rolling down your face no longer from the setting sun. You watch him raise a hand in the air, waving it gently until you reciprocate, a small gesture that he still manages to see from there. The smile on his face a mask that doesnāt match the frigidity in his eyes.
The beastmanās words weigh heavy on your heart, not even giving you the grace of sleep as you jump out of bed the second the sun rises high enough, the flaps of your unbuttoned overalls flying in the air behind you while you run out of the room. You needed answers; That was the only thing you could think of as you pass barn after barn, searching for a head of shaggy black hair, that beastman was clearly the only one who would give you what you needed.
You stop almost every second, pulling aside separate beastmen just trying to do their jobs, describing the hybrid youād spoken to yesterday with as much vigour as you can. Itās most likely the panic taking over your face but everyone keeps their comments to themselves, giving you genuine answers for the first time in a while.
The only problem is no one has seen him, not since he retreated to his room last night.
You start getting into abandoned territory, barns with cracks spread across their walls, weeds snaking along the bottom of the buildings. Ones no one has used in a long time, closest to the edge of the forest. Youāre about to pass another one, a slow rising panic forming in your stomach, before you hear it. Monotone whispers floating through the air to get to you, clashing directly with the panicked ones that seem to respond.
A flash of cyan from behind the barn youāre right in front of cements your decision, your back sticking to the closest red wall, right beside the entrance. The beastman you spoke to is pinned to the outside wall of the barn, Hiori holding him there like heās some thief, gloved hand fisting the hem of his uniform.
You canāt hear what theyāre saying from where you are, their mouths moving faster than you can catch. But the calm indifference on Hioriās face compared to the absolute fear on the other beastman tells you all you need to know. Straining your ear a bit more, you swear you hear your name leave Hioriās lips, his next sentence freezing the blood in your veins.
āā¦Keep your mouth shut.ā
Heās barrelling towards your direction faster than you can comprehend, and before you can think about it, youāre ducking into the barn itself, watching his retreating back from behind the entrance wall.
Itās been about two minutes since he left when the other beastman finally emerges, basically limping his way to the main house before you grab him, dragging him behind the wall and turning him to face you.
He panics for a second, clearly scared Hiori somehow came back to threaten him again, until he realises itās you, dragging his arm out of your grip with a suspicious glare. Now that heās right in front of you, you can see the litany of injuries scattered across his face. His right eye is swollen shut, with blood pooling from the cut on his lip. You can almost see a patch of his fur thatās been ripped out.
āWhoā¦ā You can barely get the words out of your throat, trying to connect the kind boy you grew up with to the damage heās apparently caused. But with the dreams youāve been having, you canāt fully think of him the same way you used to.
āWho do you think did this to me?ā He scoffs, warily glancing towards the landscape outside before his head snaps back to you. āLook, Iām not allowed to talk to you. If I get caught heāllā¦ā
He canāt seem to push himself to say anymore, wincing slightly at his injuries, his legs moving to exit the barn. Your hand shoots out faster, catching his arm as you turn him back to face you one more time.
āPlease, at least tell me what happened to my uncle..ā
It must be the quiet desperation written across your features, tears nearly rolling down your cheeks until he finally sighs, pity swirling in his gaze towards you for the first time since yesterday.
ā..The police took him away, almost a year ago. I saw it with my own eyes.ā He stretches a hand out beyond the barn, shaky finger directed at the building the beastmen stayed in. āThat sheep went with him. I thought he was gonna bring the boss back, thought it was some mistake..ā
His hand drops back at his side in resignation, the tone of his voice taking on a whispering shake you recognise as him trying not to shed any tears.
āBoss never came back. But your little sheep boy did. Wouldnāt tell anyone anything, made it seem like the boss ran off and left everything to him.ā
Heās turned back to the entrance before you can stop him, limping away with a quiet determination. He looks at you one more time, frowning at you from over his shoulder.
āThat guyās a total weirdo.. āM sure boss thought the same thing..ā
You donāt know how you manage to fall asleep, but somehow you do. The weight of the dayās pressure pressing down heavy on your eyelids. And just like the previous nights, it takes less than a few seconds for you to get sucked into your dreams. Youāre a lot less disoriented than before; Your eyes focusing immediately on the trees and shrubbery surrounding you. The dream is taking place in the forest behind the farm, just like the first one youād had. The melancholic nostalgia that had swirled around in your chest now replaced by a dull ache.
A younger Hiori sits under the tree, staring into the fully healed scar still attached to his arm, flexing his fingers like heās seeing them for the first time. He doesnāt look much older from the last dream youād seen him in, only a head taller than the twelve year old version that still haunts your mind, the blood trickling from his hand sticking to your psyche.
Things start to make sense the second your own face pops out from behind the tree, smiling down at Hiori with a calm fondness.
Youāre seventeen in this dream, only a year before the famous argument with your uncle, the youthful unsuspecting joy on your dream selfās face canāt compare to the anxious tiredness reflected on yours.
āDoes your hand still hurt..?ā
The younger teenage version of you takes a careful seat beside Hiori, glancing down at the pale scar with an anxious worry, waiting for a second before they take his hand in theirs, thumb rubbing small circles into the back of it. He doesnāt answer your question, simply staring down at where your hands are conjoined with a soft smile, squeezing your dream selfās hand slightly.
ā..Iām sorry.ā
āWhy are you apologising?ā Hiori tilts his head to the side, genuine confusion mixing in with a subtle fondness, as your younger clone stares back.
āIf I was with you that day.. you wouldnāt have gotten injured.ā
The guilt manifests itself in your own heart, stabbing painfully at whatever dull sense of peace you had watching your memories play out. You push the feeling down, swallowing the dry lump in your throat as a wave of nausea passes through you. Of course you hadnāt known back then, but with how calm Hiori had been that day.. it wouldnāt be a crazy assumption to make that heād inflicted that scar on himself.
āIt hurts a littleā¦ā
The sentence barely comes out a muffled whimper, so quiet even you have to strain to hear it. But your younger self only looks up calmly, showing Hiori a sad smile before theyāre bending over, placing the tiniest kiss on the back of his palm, around where the scar starts.
Your mouth opens slightly, ready to ask if that small gesture made the grotesque scar feel even a little bit better but Hiori is faster, closing in on your dream self with tightly shut eyes, the tips of his ears a barely perceptible pink.
The kiss lasts less than a second, your lips barely meeting but it meant the world to both of you back then, your heart beating loud enough for the other to hear. It tasted like strawberries, the soft feeling clinging to your lips even now. The moment is ruined the second Hiori gets dragged away, the fabric of his uniform pushing against his throat while your dream self starts to panic. Itās your uncle, holding Hiori by the hem of his shirt, his manic yelling still sneaking into your ears as you try to keep them covered, your eyes shut tight.
You already know what happens next; The tears rolling down your cheeks, your uncleās shouts for you to get back in the house, you turning back in time to watch him slap Hiori before youāre gone.
Looking back up now, just like the last dream, your position puts you right next to the dark look Hiori gives your uncle, almost like he wants to kill him. A shadow passing over his usually bright eyes, so bad that even your uncle flinches back from what you can see. Now, you find that the anger and sadness you felt towards your uncle has now hardened into a strengthening suspicion.
The hallway to your uncleās office feels like itās twisting into a confusing spiral, disorienting you on purpose to keep you from the bits of truth emerging from every dream youāve had. Your phone clutched tightly in your hand as you stumble up the stairs, your footsteps echoing loudly in your ears even as the floorboards barely creek.
The room is just as dusty as the last time you stepped in, a cloud of dirt erupting with every slow step, an even thicker layer of dust now coating the portraits as well. You donāt stop to reminisce this time, your only focus on the desk still seated in the middle of the room.
Itās completely empty; No journal, no letter.. nothing. Just a solid dark surface, significantly cleaner than the rest of the room. Your heart drops into your stomach, and for a second, your mind goes back to the way Hiori had pushed you out of this office earlier, how quick he was to shoo you away, and it feels like your stomach is churning all over again.
Your legs carry you around the small space in panicked circles, scouring the room with all the energy you have left in you; Yanking out drawers, checking behind picture frames, under pieces of furniture. Every five seconds, your eyes dart towards the closed door, waiting for the one time you would look back and Hiori would be standing there, ready to drag you back to your room.
It feels like itās been hours when a part of you finally gives up, your back meeting the farthest wall of the room, sliding down until youāre crumpled a few feet away from the table. You could just leave. The thought takes root in your mind, spreading itās vines from your head downwards until itās clenching painfully around your heart. You could wait at the train station till morning and just leave.
But how would you live knowing something happened to your uncle and you didnāt find out what? That the last time youād spoken to him was in an argument you now know he didnāt mean.
You let your head fall into your hands, wracking your brain for any loose floorboards or hidden drawers you couldāve seen when you were younger, your mind coming up completely empty. Just as the tears begin to gather on your lashes, blurring your vision while you slowly raise your head, eyes locking on a shimmer of light gold right opposite you. Youāre on your hands and knees before you know it, a shallow hope rising in your chest as you quickly approach the desk again.
Itās a lock, gold rim surrounding the tiny hole. The drawer itās attached to is significantly smaller than the rest, an inch shorter than the others, so much so that if anyone had only looked from the top of the desk, they wouldnāt have seen it at all. A quick tug tells you the obvious, itās locked, but the way it rattles on itās hinges means the lock isnāt that strong. Without caring about how much noise you might make, you plant your hand on the top of the table, the other firmly gripping the drawer handle before youāre pulling with all your might. It hurts, the handle digging painfully into your fingers, your shoulder groaning under the pressure of every pull, but you keep at it.
Once, twice, as many times as you can manage, the loud clatters of it rattling in itās shell echoing in the room until itās all you can hear, drowning out the sound of your stuttering breath. You donāt count how many more pulls it takes before the drawer finally comes loose with a startling bang, nearly throwing you back into the wall.
The sound slowly fades into the night, just as loud. You probably only had a few minutes before someone came to check out the noise.
Whether or not itās a good or bad thing, the journal and letter are sitting neatly in the drawer, staring up at you, begging you to open them as you hastily lay them on the desk, flipping the journal open first. The first few pages are calm accounts of your uncleās past days, his everyday life on the farm, both before and after he adopted you. The pages that mention your parentās deaths have small marks on them, marks you recognise are tear drops the moment you slide your fingers over them. You blink back another wave of tears as you keep flipping, stopping the second you spot Hioriās name.
30/10/2013
I brought a boy back home, tiny thing, almost as small as ____. It wasnāt on purpose, itās not like Iām going around picking up small children. The poor thing just seemed so lonely. People abandon beastmen like they drink water, especially the younger ones. ____ seems to get along with him, which is good. Having a friend on the farm will help with the grief.
Every mention of your name is smudged over, the paper dried and cracking in a way that meant water had ruined the quality, but you can still tell your uncleās talking about you, the small tenderness after each remark reminding you of kinder times. You swallow the memories back down and keep flicking through.
16/03/2014
I donāt know what ____ said to that boy but he follows them around like a lost puppy. Theyāre never away from each other. It makes it difficult to teach him what I need him to know about our farm work, but ____ is happy. I can always teach him another time.
The next entry that mentions Hiori is drastically different, the year scribbled in the corner correlating with the day heād gotten injured. You can feel the tension radiating off each page, your finger following the words along as you read.
10/08/2019
Something happened to the boy. I didnāt even see how it happened and ____ wouldnāt tell me. Mari was too shaken up to say anything either, poor thing looked like she wanted to faint. All I saw was the blood. God, and the screaming. My heart nearly dropped into my ass when I heard ____ scream. But it was the boy, gnarly gash running from his palm up to his elbow. But he didnāt even seem bothered. ____ wasnāt paying attention, but I saw it. The smile on his faceā¦ no child should smile like that with their arm all cut up. I had to drive him all the way to the hospital in town, he didnāt cry once the entire time. It feels like Iām losing my mind but thereās something wrong with that boy.
Your heart twitches in your chest at the mention of the incident again, a hand coming up to try and slow down itās frantic pace. Seeing it written in black ink, confirmed from the view of someone who wasnāt riddled with panic at the time, makes your head pound.
A small part of you thought you had exaggerated the dream, made up the smile youād seen on Hioriās face. But this was solid proof, all the proof your suspicions needed. A few more page flips and youāre at the next memory your dreams had shown you.
02/05/2023
I caught both of them behind the farm, in that spot Iāve told ____ not to be in numerous times, but they never listen. That boy put his hands on my baby. Used his injury like he didnāt inflict it on himself. I had to step in. I didnāt mean to shout at them like that, I wasnāt that angry. I just donāt like the way seeing that boy around them makes me feel. If ____ had seen the way he looked at me after they were gone, they wouldāve understood my concerns. I honestly thought he was going to kill meā¦ Heās getting bigger, stronger, more erratic and somehow smarter at the same time. I need to separate the two of them.
Youāre getting to the end of the journal now, the emptier pages peeking out at you the longer you flip through. The writing seems to be getting more and more frantic, you can barely read the even shorter paragraphs now. But one sticks out to you, the date being a few months after you left for university.
24/01/2025
I knew it.
I knew there was something wrong with that boy. This is why Iāve been keeping my eye on him. I saw him sneak into the barn, followed him. Mari didnāt run away from us, he kept her in one of the old barns. That poor girl. He snapped her neck. I saw him do itā¦ watched the light fade from her eyes. I wasnāt careful enough, I think he saw me. Itās only a matter of time before he does something to me too. Thank god ____ left before this happened, they can never come back.
The world feels like itās tilting around you, the desk seemingly zooming in and out at the same time. Everything suddenly sounds too loud, every laboured breath you take caving in your chest. Your legs stutter along the floor, barely keeping you upright as you place a hand on the table, tears dripping into the dust right below you.
That beastmanās testimony, Mariās disappearance, your uncleās erratic behaviour. It all clicks together in a puzzle you donāt want to complete. The boy youād loved like your own family had ripped it apart with his bare hands. You canāt even begin to imagine that the hands that held you so tenderly were the same ones that murdered your best friend and framed your uncle for it in one swift motion.
Your heart breaks for Mari, her deathbed being the home she worked so hard to accept. How had she been here for so long and you never knew? Never questioned anything. Your hand finds the letter before you can even collect yourself, tearing it open with a desperate ferocity as your hands tremble harder.
Something had told you to pack your bag that morning, a nagging feeling you just couldnāt shake off. Now itās all you can think about, flashes of the train taking you back to safety crossing your mind as your gaze flies over the letter, the need to read more of your uncleās words taking over every bit of your rationality.
The first paragraphs make you pause; Everything is exactly the same as the one you left back in your accommodation. Each letter written in the same cadence, down to every last comma and period. It makes you shiver, your shoulders clenching painfully while you keep reading. The last part seems to be the only new piece.
Iām sorry kiddo, you know I love you, I shouldnāt have spoken to you like that last time we talked. Try and find it in your heart to forgive your good old uncle, hm? I love you. Iāve loved you since the second you were born, just as much as your parents did. Thatās why I need you to listen very carefully. Do not come back to the farm, no matter what. I know itās hard to believe, but you will not be safe there. That sheep boy is not who you think he is. I donāt know what heāll do if he gets a hold of you, but I wonāt let it happen first before I find out. If youāre reading this then something has already happened to me, donāt come looking for me, itās not worth it. Iād rather suffer ten times over than let anything happen to you.
I want you to look forward, make something of yourself. Your parents and I will be proud of you no matter what.
Love,
Your favourite uncle
The letter is plucked out of your hands faster than you can react to, a solid arm snaking itās way around your waist, a heavy weight burrowing deep into your neck. A shaky scream crawls itās way out of your throat, your body trembling harder than before, an icy, paralysing fear creeping through your veins. Hiori presses a soft kiss into the skin at your neck, letting out a small huff as both of you stare down at the letter.
āHow much do you know..?ā
āā¦Everything.ā
He laughs for a second, the face in your peripheral vision crumpling into a look of pure disgust before you can blink.
āMm.. Your uncle always did have a big mouth.ā
You let him card a hand through your hair; Gentle, reverently like heās handling a porcelain doll, the fear locking your limbs too much for you to do anything. He finally turns you around, swiping away the tears still trickling down your cheeks with his thumb, before leaning down to kiss another one away, not even giving you the chance to dodge with his other hand pressed firmly into the back of your head.
āYou werenāt supposed to find out like this.. I had everything planned. I donāt know why your uncle and that stupid dog were so insistent on telling you the truth, you were happier without it.ā
You canāt even escape him when you force your eyes downwards, his body dropping to meet your gaze as he kneels in front of you. The look in his eyes almost makes you want to throw up; The blinding devotion in every inch of the smile he gives you doing nothing to calm your frantic heart. Before you can say anything else, he scoops you up into his arms, throwing your body over his shoulder with a shallow grunt, starting towards the door.
āIām not done with your room, but itās fine. Weāll make it work..ā
You start kicking your legs, balling your hands into hardened fists as you slam them against his back. He never stops moving; The tune heās humming a sharp contrast against your frantic pleas. One of your swings finally connects, the tip of your foot aching with how hard it snaps into his stomach, but it still doesnāt deter him. And thatās when he reacts, his hand coming up to press against your legs, keeping them held down against his chest as the office door closes behind you both.
One final time.
Your childhood bedroom is just as bright as the last time youād seen it.
There isnāt a single speck of dust on any of the furniture, everything has been well maintained, unlike your uncleās office. It feels like youāre sitting in a time capsule; The light blue floral wallpaper youād picked out with your uncle in perfect condition, the fairy lights still hanging above your bed has completely new bulbs. All of your childhood toys, drawings, and textbooks remain neatly scattered around the room.
You canāt tell how long itās been, you remember your phone clattering to the floor the minute Hiori picked you up, but being forced to watch the sun rise and set everyday told you it had been a week. Your phone was probably riddled with notifications; E-mails from lecturers about your absences, texts from your flatmates about where you couldāve possibly gone. The heavy chain attached to your ankle clinks loudly as you shift your leg, the rocking chair youāre sitting in swaying gently in front of the roomās window.
The thick carpet feels like sand under your feet, matching the general softness of your prison. Everything has been padded like youāre a wandering child; Each drawer corner covered in foam wrapping, all your pens, scissors, any sharp objects are gone. Even the window youāre looking out of is blocked off, thick white bars the size of metal pipes covering most of the view youāre trying to distract yourself with.
All the beastmen you never got the chance to speak to resume their daily tasks, milling about with a quiet urgency you can see even from up there. Some of them glance up at your window, pity bleeding into the short looks they give you before they rush off to other tasks. Through your miserable haze, you hear a drawn out creak as the door opens, several footsteps echoing against the carpeted floor until they stop right behind you, a sturdy hand placing itself on your shoulder.
āWhat are you looking at?ā
āā¦Nothing.ā
Hiori presses a small kiss to your temple, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face, ignoring the slight tremble in your limbs. Your fear only seems to make him smile harder, his soft fur brushing against your cheek as he pushes his face into your neck, as if heās trying to weld your skin together.
He moves a second later, perching on the edge of your window sill, blocking the only sliver of normalcy you have. You feel a finger under your chin, forcing you to look upwards into the disgusting amount of affection hanging from his irises.
āYouāve been down lately, Iāll get you something nice the next time I go into town.ā
An imperceptible hum is all you give him, but he seems to take it, nodding slowly before a familiar smile spreads across his face again.
āBut I have other good news..ā He pauses long enough for his hand to travel up to your head, rubbing several strands in between his fingers. āYour uncleās being released soon.ā
The news doesnāt make your heart soar like youād once expected it to, the organ sinking deep into your gut, beating wildly.
āHeās lucky I couldnāt plant more evidence in time. But Iām sure two years in a damp cell has taught him to mind his business..ā
You canāt imagine what two years in jail did to your uncle, and if Hiori had gotten his way, your uncle wouldāve never seen the light of day again. Tears are dripping down your face now, plopping onto your trembling hands with silent drops. You can feel your throat locking up painfully, the barbed wire of your misery wrapping itself around your very being.
āā¦What are you going to do to him?ā
Your voice comes out a pained rasp, a hopeless whisper that floats into the silence on your room, causing Hiori to pause for what feels like a lifetime. He tilts his head to the side, light cyan bangs barely obscuring the brief annoyance that flashes in his eyes before heās back to looking at you with a calm smile that makes you shiver.
āI donāt need him giving you ideas.. but the most I can do is break his legs. Iāll leave him aliveā¦ā His hand is back on your face, his knuckles ghosting soft lines down your cheek. āā¦Just for you.ā
The horror in your eyes has melted into a harsh numbness, your heart stopping briefly before it throbs painfully. Your body no longer feels like your own, the numbness spreading until you feel it take over, forcing your head into a small nod. Hiori flashes a blinding smile once more, leaning down to meet your lips in a kiss you no longer have the energy to dodge.
Your tired gaze sweeps over to the window, watching as all the beastmen below gather around the farmās entrance, the crowd soon parting to reveal a tired looking, middle aged man. Heās staring up at your window, with enough pain to rival the one slowly spreading through your chest.
Synopsis: Thereās a letter in your mailbox. Itās from your uncle, the same one whoād pushed you out of your home over a year ago. Heās missed you just the way you missed him, your home finally being opened back up to you. The farm is just like you remember; But everyone is giving you weird looksā¦ And the only man you came for is no where to be seen. Where has your uncle gone? And why do all of your dreams whisper suspicions about Hiori?
Content Warnings: Possessive and Obsessive Behaviour, Injury and Blood, Kidnapping, Manipulation.
A/N: drastic nose dive in terms of plot compared to rin and kaiserš but c'est la vie. this is still very much part of my au collection <3333 banner and au inspired by ko.himearts on tiktok!!
āIf you donāt hand in these last few projects in time, then youāll be dipping below the cut-off mark. At that point, we might have to suspend your studies here..ā
Your university advisor stares deep into your eyes, a trace of pity infiltrating the stoic mask sheās still trying to put up. And underneath that, you can see the slight boredom slowly trickling off her features; This isnāt the first time sheās telling you this, and youāre certain sheās just as tired of telling you than you are of hearing it. But you just canāt explain it to her, how fed up you are, this deep exhaustion thatās settled itself in your bones, strong enough to deter you from any work and weak enough to bend under the whims of meaningless activities that only keep your attention for five minutes at a time.
You know if you even try to tell her that the report stapled to her clipboard doesnāt even cover half of the work youāve missed out on, she might retire right then and there. So you keep your mouth shut, nodding along to the silence that blasts in both of your ears as time ticks by. Eventually, she lets out a resigned sigh, jotting down notes you canāt read on the report in front of her.
āWeāll stop here for now, try doing as much as you can during this weekend. You still have two weeks before the term ends.ā
The weather is just as bleak as you feel when you exit her office; Ash grey clouds hanging right above your head, drifting over the campus landscape with a lazy amble. You stretch your worn out headphones over your hair, barely paying attention to the song they start playing as you begin the slow journey back to your dorm building. Each step feels like itās taking more and more of your energy, the feeling of concrete bits biting into your shoes sending tremors that go straight to your head, aggravating the headache youād tried to ignore earlier.
The sound of your phoneās notification cuts through your music with a sharp ding, snapping your brain back into focus, temporarily stopping it from melting through your shoes under the weight of your fatigue. You donāt even have to unlock the device to notice it, the only notification to grace your empty phone, a simple message from one of your dorm mates.
K
hey could you pick up my mail for me? not coming back frm lectures till 6
thx
16:49pm
You switch the device off as quickly as youād turned it on, looking up to see the roof of your accommodation slowly coming into view. It isnāt a big ask, with your houseās mailbox only a few minutes away with the rest of the mail slots, and itās on the way for you anyway. You make a mental note to ask your dorm mate to buy you snacks on the way back as a thank you, while you cut across the field to your dormās reception.
Itās easy to find the mail your dorm mate is talking about, a light blue letter with his name written across it in very fancy handwriting, right at the top of the pile basically stacked to the top of the cramped box. A lot of the ones at the bottom look old, bits of dust coating the corners as some of the brighter looking ones are starting to age. You reach a hand in once more, pressing your fingers to the back of the metal box as you scoop all the letters out in one smooth motion. Your flatmates would almost never come to check, and the mail would just keep piling up until you got an e-mail about it.
The letters make a soft crinkling sound as they hit the dark wood of your communal dining table, scattering into their own separate corners. Most of them are spam mail, advertisements and other small letters addressed to your house mates. Youāre about to head up to your room, ready to crash until the guilt of not doing any work wakes you up again, until you spot something, written in small, hastily scrawled letters on the corner of one of the envelopes.
Itās an address, one you used to have memorised a long time ago before your university address replaced it in your mind, but you could still recognise it from a mile away. Picking up the small envelope tells you all you need to know, itās addressed to you, a shaky heart drawn right next to your name which takes up more than half the white paper.
Thereās only one person you know that would send you a letter like this, old-fashioned in a time when everyone just sends each other text messages, which just makes you all the more confused. The only relative youāre that close to would be your uncle, the man who took you in and raised you for practically your entire life. You turn the letter over in your hands, gentle as if itāll turn to dust if you blow on it too hard, your mind playing brief flashes of the last time youād seen him.
Startled wasnāt enough of a word to describe it; He was scared to death. Of what? Youāll never know. All you remember was him kicking you out, screaming, forcing you to apply for university as far away from your little town as possible. That hadnāt been the plan; Youād wanted to stay and help out with his farm after high school, you still do.
But the way your uncle had screamed that day, even going behind your back to register you and packing your things before your acceptance letter could even arrive. You had no choice but to leave.
Even if it was odd for him, the kind man you grew up with suddenly losing his mind, you imagined he wouldnāt contact you again after that. But here it is, the only contact youāve had with your uncle in a year. The first part of the page-long letter are greetings, questions about your life at school, how you were managing, updates about the farm. He writes like the two of you have been exchanging letters since you came here, that gentle tone he always used with you reaching you even through the paper.
Itās the next few paragraphs that settle in your gut like a stone, leaving a hard lump in your throat as your eyes struggle to blink away unshed tears.
Iām sorry kiddo, you know I love you, I shouldnāt have spoken to you like that last time we talked. Try and find it in your heart to forgive your good old uncle, hm? Itās been so long, everyone here misses you dearly. Come back and visit whenever you have time off school. Iāll make whatever you want for dinner, promise not to ruin the kitchen this time.
P.S: Hiori says hi
Love,
Your favourite uncle
You donāt know how long youāve been standing there, staring at the letter, finally letting some of the tears roll down your cheeks and onto the thin paper, but you know itās long enough for the sun to sink below the horizon, itās warm golden light shifting across the floor through your peripheral vision.
āHey.. are you okay?ā
Itās your flatmate, one of the quieter ones you donāt speak to but are still cordial with, his hand on your shoulder as he scans the tears dripping down your face with an evident concern. You wipe them away quickly, folding the letter into the pocket of your clothes with a quiet urgency before turning back to him.
āYeah, Iām fine donāt worry about it. I uh.. picked up everyoneās mail, it was just sitting in our mail box.ā
You watch him nod, scepticism swirling around in his gaze until you finally storm off, taking the stairs two at a time as the letter burns hot in your pocket. The paperās still clutched in your hand by the time you settle yourself at your room desk, your gaze scanning over that last paragraph so many times youāre certain you could recite it by heart.
Itās not hard to place how you feel; Youāve missed the farm, youāve missed your uncle, you especially miss the beastman your uncle used to adopt to help around the massive plot of land you called home, your mind playing images of a small, cyan haired boy who used to follow you around everywhere. It was also glaringly obvious how much you needed a break from lectures, every time you opened up your laptop to clear out more of your outstanding work, it doubles in volume.
A few clicks later and youāre staring at your schedule, carefully looking for any spaces you can fit the sudden trip into. You have your last classes for the week tomorrow before the weekend, and as if luck itself was shining down on you, you had the first three days of next week completely free. Five days was more than enough time to visit your uncle and relax enough to make you feel like youāve rested.
It takes you four more minutes to convince yourself before youāre buying your train ticket home, watching the money leave your account with a slight grimace but an anxious excitement swirling around in your stomach.
ā¦
The train ride over is beyond exhausting; With every platform you cross, every new train you get on, your bag weighs down heavier in your hands, siphoning the energy from your bones until youāre seated on the last train between your home town and the next town over. Youāre beginning to get tired of the view from your window seat.
The landscape had transitioned from grey buildings, red brick and yellow light windows blurring past from the speed of the train to a rush of dark and light greens as you entered the countryside.
Your travel fatigue eventually catches up to you as you enter the cab youād ordered to pick you up from the station. The cool pane pressing against your forehead in a motion that only makes you sleepier. Itās feels like the taxi driverās going slower for your sake, every time you sluggishly open your eyes again, familiar places grace your sleepy gaze.
Parks you used to run around freely under your uncleās caring gaze, neighbourās houses you had stopped at to collect and deliver produce. Seeing everything again after what feels like forever to you warms your heart again, almost sending another wave of tears straight to your eyes.
Only a few minutes later and youāre standing in front of your uncleās farm again, your home. The sound of the cabās tires against the gravel as it drives away barely registers in your mind while you stand there for what feels like forever, staring with this absolute joy on your face that youāre certain makes you look like a crazy person.
āExcuse me.. can I help you?ā
It was already evening by the time you arrived, so you hadnāt expected many of the hybrid workers to still be wandering around. But the meek voice that reaches your ears forces your mind to snap back to attention, your gaze zeroing in on the beastman thatās standing in front of you now. He looks like a cow hybrid; Small yellowed horns poking out of his hair, sitting right above the brown and white speckled ears that match the spots on his face.
The gentle confusion on his face melts into a dawning recognition, before turning into a complicated misery that you canāt seem to understand. You didnāt know all of the beastmen your uncle had brought in, but you assumed they knew you, your pictures hanging all over the main house as well as the fact that your uncle loved bragging about you to anyone who bothered to listen. You flash him what you hope is a polite smile, reaching your free hand out to him before his next words make you freeze.
āWhat are you doing here? Why now?ā
Your hand falters a bit, the smile on your face now reshaping to form a confused frown that matches his.
āIām.. here to visit? Whereās my uncle? Whatās going on?ā
It doesnāt seem like heās listening to a word you say, his gaze flicking down to your outstretched hand before it comes back up to your face, like he canāt believe youāve come back to your own home. You knew your visit was very impromptu, and long overdue, but this seemed like an overreaction to what you thought wouldāve been a happy moment.
āWhy did it take you this long to-ā The beastman pauses, taking in a deep breath like you were a stubborn stain he was trying to clean out. āNever mind, Iāll take you to the guest rooms..ā
Youāre still beyond confused, going over what you couldāve possibly done to make a beastman youāre sure your uncle treasured act like this, but the look he gives you over his shoulder sends your legs into action as you trail behind him, the excitement youād felt just a few minutes ago solidifying into a cold unease.
The bed in your room is hard.
A solid block of mattress that somehow doesnāt even compare to the one in your accommodation, digging into your back with a toughness that makes your back throb painfully by the time you get up at six in the morning, eyes bleary from the sleep your new bed had stolen from you throughout the night.
You sit there for longer than necessary, trying to blink the tiredness away as you stare into the rustic, floral wallpaper of your new room. Itās worn, peeling at the corners where it meets the roomās dusty furniture, previously bright green stripes with vivid red roses faded into a muddled cacophony that practically assaults your eyes. Your childhood bedroom was a lot better than this, at least from what you remembered.
A lick of dust would never be able to even touch your room with how hard your uncle was with chores; And at the same time, he would be the first person to take you to the nearest hardware store whenever you wanted to redecorate.
The influx of memories make you sigh, your legs aching even more than your back as you throw them over the bed frame, stretching out as many knots as you can in one fluid motion. Your sleepy haze snaps into two with a sharp knock that raps on the room door, making your shoulders practically jump to your ears in shock.
The cow beastman from yesterday is standing there when you open the door, the cold look that had plagued his face last evening still there. Heās holding a clip board in his hands, tilting the board towards you until you take it into your own hands.
āI spoke with our acting farm head and he agreed to let you take over. These are the tasks boss used to do everyday..ā
The clipped papers are mostly filled with inventory forms, managerial notes on the state of each barn and plot of land spread across the second page. The work is simple enough, or at least easier than the actual manual labour you used to do when you were younger. A nagging feeling lodges itself in the back of your throat, you hadnāt come here to work at all, the early Saturday morning practically calling you back into bed.
But the way this hybrid is talking about your uncleās work, the words āacting farm headā reverberating in your head, creasing your brows into a perplexed frown. You open and close your mouth a few times, struggling to find the words before you finally look up.
āI donāt mind taking over, but did something happen to my uncle?ā
A weird look passes over the beastmanās face, like you just forced him to eat a bowl of lemons before you go ahead with the work, but itās gone before you can point it out. You watch him let out a deep sigh, bowing at a slight angle before walking away, muttering something about getting you a proper uniform tomorrow.
You stand by the open door for a while, the hurt and confusion youād felt yesterday coming back full force. A small part of you had hoped it was something about your arrival that had upset him, but itās clear thatās not true, and whatever heās upset about has something to do with your uncle.
ā¦
The farm is still in near perfect condition, that much made sense to you. Your uncleās stern need for everything to be perfect, combined with the way he trained both you and the beastmen he picked up meant this place could keep running even if he went on vacation for years on end. Your check list is starting to dwindle, the list of things that need fixing is even shorter. But thatās not the thing thatās getting to you, making your weekend a dull occasion.
The way that cow hybrid had treated you wasnāt because he had a problem with you, it was apparently a farm wide thing. Every barn you stopped at, every crop field manned by beastman youād practically grown up with became a frozen wasteland against the rays of the blinding sunlight, the icy stares they gave you as you passed by enough to deter you from greeting any of them. You canāt wrap your head around it, the only theory in your mind being that everyone was upset youād taken so long to come back and visit. Maybe your uncle had cried himself into a stupor before heād finally sent that letter because you hadnāt remained in contact with any of them.
But even if thatās it, none of them were there to witness the argument youād had with your uncle, the panicked fury on his face, the way heād shipped you off to university without a second thought after spending the last thirteen years telling you he loved you like his own child.
What kind of person would rush back home after an argument like that?
Your frantic thoughts are interrupted by a firm pair of arms wrapping themselves around your waist, and before you can turn to see who it is, youāre being lifted off the ground, a terrified scream shooting out of your throat as your legs curl in on the upper half of your body. The clipboard and pen you were holding clatter into the grass while your main focus remains on swinging your arms as wildly as you can, turning your head maniacally to get a good look of the person holding you in the air like a child.
ā..I thought I was dreaminā for a second, but itās actually you..ā
The panic drains out of you in five seconds flat, your limbs going slack against the hands still holding you as you finally pay attention. You know whoās voice that is, the light cyan hair and the fluffy white fur swaying gently in your peripheral vision confirms everything for you.
Hiori is a lot taller than the last time you saw him, so much so that heās towering almost three heads above you when the last you remember, both of you where the same height. His hair is a lot longer too, the short bowl-cut he used to have grown into a nice short hairstyle that frames his much bigger, yellowed horns perfectly. The black undershirt, and green apron all the beastmen wear not bothering to cover the way his arms bulk up, bigger in the kind of way you only get from manual labour. You finally get to hug him properly when he puts you down, his deep rumbling laughter echoing in your head as you press your body into the fabric of his uniform.
āJesus, Yo! Youāre so tall now, what has uncle been feeding you?ā
He laughs, a gentle breathy laughter that barely breaks the joy on his face. It doesnāt seem like heās listening, his attention on scanning your face fitfully, his thumb smoothing across your cheek, pinching the skin between his fingers, drawing small giggles from you that he reciprocates without a second thought.
Before long, both of you are trudging along the barns, talking like you two had never separated. Hiori only asks a few questions which you respond to with long stories and complaints. You blather on about university; How difficult your second year has been to you, all the crazy memories youād made with your dorm mates. You talk for so long your mouth starts to go dry, with you letting out a few perfunctory coughs before youāre back to talking.
With how cold everyone was being with you, you almost forgot what it felt like to hold a proper conversation, and you almost forgot how easy it was to talk to Hiori. Your uncle had brought him in only a year after he adopted you, one of the first beastmen heād brought onto the farm as a helper. The two of you got on immediately because you were so close in age. He was the only beastman youād fully grown up with, from childhood all the way till you left for university.
āWhatās wrong?ā
Both of you are leaning against a nearby fence, revelling in the shade of the tree right above you. He mustāve noticed the frown that passed over your features, concern now shining in the yellowish green of his sclera. You dig your sneakers into the dirt, shifting the sand back and forth while your face burns hot under the weight of his gaze.
āAh.. Itās nothing much. Just..ā You let out a small sigh, turning to him fully. āI only came back ācus I wanted to see uncle, but I havenāt seen him since. And no one wants to tell me anything, did I do something wrong?ā
Hiori thinks for a while, gloved hand stationery against his chin while he stares up into the distance. A solid minute passes before he turns back to you, mischief replacing the concern in his eyes.
āApart from abandoning us? No.ā He lets out a loud laugh when you smack his shoulder, moving out of the way too slow to dodge your wrath. āIām kiddinā, relaxā
āEveryoneās probably trying to get used to you being back, ās all.ā You let him place his hand on your head, barely managing to shake it of as he lightly ruffles your hair. āAnd your uncle went into town for a bit, yāknow how good he is with livestock.. everyone wants his help.ā
The smile on Hioriās face feels tighter now, almost awkward, the kind of smile a child would give their parent as they would hope not to get caught in a lie. You want to smack yourself immediately for thinking that, and by the time you look at him properly, itās gone, replaced with the gentle one that always stayed fixed on his face. For a second, both of you just stand there staring at each other, the need to ask for more details or for a ride into town to find your uncle on the tip of your tongue.
But the sound of someone calling for Hiori breaks through your silent conversation, both of you turning your heads to see another beastman waving in the distance. Hiori pushes himself off the fence, dusting off his uniform before smiling at you one more time, reaching out to brush your cheek.
āIāll talk to everyone for you, donāt worry your pretty head about itā
You give a small wave to his retreating back, a slight shiver wracking through your body as your fingers ghost over where heād just touched your cheek, an odd feeling taking hold in your chest, settling itself there until you trudge back to your room.
Your limbs fail the second you get back to the guest room, crashing into the firm mattress without even changing first. Sleep comes easily, pulling itās invisible blanket over your form faster than it ever had in university, the stress of thinking about forgotten submissions and sideways glances gone as your subconscious finally goes under.
Itās probably been several hours since you fell asleep, but you canāt tell, the deep sleep parting to give way as your heavy eyelids flutter open, taking in a sight that makes you shoot up immediately. Youāre outside, sitting in the patch of grass furthest away from your home, just before the barn right at the edge of the farm. For a second, you think youāve sleepwalked all the way out here, lying in the grass till morning, your heart dropping straight into your stomach.
The sound hits your ears immediately, even from where you are, you can hear it resonating in your head like a deep echo. Someoneās calling your name; A gruff shout that tapers off at the end in a way that signals the callerās tired annoyance.
Glancing back at the house only makes you more confused, your gaze zeroing in on a tiny blob hobbling in the distance. The blob gets bigger and bigger, the haze partially obscuring it clearing the closer it gets.
Itās a child; A chubby little thing that canāt be older than six years old, running probably at what they think is full speed, several cookies in their hands and a few stuffed into the oversized overalls theyāve donned, their choppy hairstyle flying in the wind with every step they take. Things donāt click in your head until the child has fully run past you, the high-pitched giggles emanating from their lips almost forming an actual trail in the air behind them.
You must be having some weird realistic dream.
You follow your little six year old clone carefully, an involuntary smile tugging at the corners of your lips, the temptation to pat yourself on the head nearly taking over as they run deeper into the farm. Your dream self starts to slow down once both of you arrive at the fence separating your uncleās farm from the forest behind it, the perfect child-sized hole under a part of the white wood sparking memories in your mind. You recognise the place before your child clone can duck under the panelling.
It was a tiny nook in the farm, your own slice of privacy the second youād grown up enough to start craving it. You remember all the times you would get into trouble for sneaking into that forest, your uncle knew that was where you were disappearing to, he just didnāt know how you were getting there.
Your body phases through the fence, physics not applying to your dream no matter how realistic it was. Your child self takes the proper route, pushing their ever-growing body under the small crack until theyāre on the other side, the whole back of their overalls covered in mud and sand. They stop for a second, checking their pockets to make sure the snacks theyād worked so hard to steal were still intact, smiling to themselves for a split second before their adventure is interrupted. Both you and your dream self turn to the forest ahead, the obvious sound of sniffling and hiccuping reaching your ears at the same time.
The clone reacts a lot faster than you do, leaping ahead over shrubs and branches like they arenāt lashing across their legs. You trail behind cautiously, letting an automatic concern flood through your veins as you watch yourself jump on a particularly big tree stump and jump right off.
The two of you arrive at a particularly withered tree, the crying at full volume now, and it takes five seconds to find out who it is, though a small part of you already knew. Itās Hiori; A significantly smaller version compared to the one that now towers over you today, tears shining in his light yellow eyes, his tiny ears drooped against his cyan bowl-cut, limbs trembling as he curls them inwards.
Your eyes narrow almost instinctively, trying to remember where you and Hiori stood at this point in time. Judging by the quiet sliver of sadness settled on your dream selfās features, not a bit of confusion, it mustāve been only a few months after your uncle had brought him home. Youād spoken to him a few times back then, but he mostly spent his time with your uncle, learning how the farm worked before he actually got to doing manual labour.
āWhatācha doing?ā
Hearing your own voice like this feels surreal, the slight country accent you used to have peeking out of every word, your child self drawing out the end of the question like theyāre trying to fill a word count.
Hiori looks up in surprise, nearly welding himself into the tree with how much heās pressed against it, the tears stopping for only a second before theyāre back full force.
ā āM hiding..ā He murmurs, burrowing his face deeper into his folded arms.
āWhy?ā
You almost want to tilt your head along with the replica of your dreams, just to gain back a bit of the simple curiosity softly emanating from such a simple question. Hioriās balled fists come up to wipe the tears still flowing down his face, leaving his fur matted in the trails the tears leave.
āI canāt do any farm workā¦ itās too hard. Iām not good at planting seeds and, and the dirt makes my hands itch. And thereās worms in the ground...ā
He turns to your younger self like the existence of worms in dirt is a ground breaking discovery he just made, his light pink nose twitching as he sniffs one last time before breaking into a fresh wave of tears.
āIām going to get thrown away..ā
Your inability to comfort people shines through when your clone plops themselves on the dirt right beside Hiori, patting a confident fist against their chest, their mouth curved into a boastful smile.
āMy uncle says Iām really bad with the farm too!ā They lean in conspiratorially, pulling the hem of Hioriās shirt as they whisper in his ear. āOne time, I left nails on the floor, it was an accident! But uncle stepped on one and he had to get a shot in his foot..ā
The six year old version of you smiles like the memory is a fond one, their tiny hand patting Hioriās shoulder as if he wasnāt the older one between both of you.
āI did that and I didnāt get kicked out!ā
Their words donāt look like theyāre comforting Hiori the way youād intended at the time, the tears start to dry up but his face stays in a perpetual frown.
āThatās ācus your uncle loves youā¦ if he kicked you out he would be sad..ā
The other child barely thinks for a second, their head hung as their fingers play with the dirt in front of their legs.
āWell I like you.. so uncle canāt kick you out! Or Iāll be sadā
Hiori finally stops sniffling for the first time in that moment, already big eyes blown wide as he stares at your younger self, the tips of his ears pink in a small way only you can see from your third person view. He shuffles towards the child version of you, eyes gleaming with a new found emotion that you canāt place for some reason, almost like an exaggerated joy you canāt fully describe.
āReally? You mean it?ā
You watch yourself nod fervently, grabbing Hioriās hand as the two of them link pinkie fingers, faces now melted into childish excitement.
āMhm! And Iāll like you forever and ever so uncle can never kick you out!ā
You wake up breathless, the dream almost having took all the energy out of you. It was a happy memory, one you actually donāt mind reliving as you get out of bed once more, bending your back in enough angles to crack it properly. But there was something about it, something about seeing the two of you interact from anything other than the view of your childish innocence.
For now, you donāt even try to pick up the empty clip board sitting on your bedside table, every cell in your body dragging you down the hallway and up the stairs until you reach a door you somehow know so much about without ever really stepping in.
Your uncleās office.
The door looks aged, small cracks peeking out at you from the edges of the solid block of wood, the angle of the light behind the door giving you a good view of how dusty the room must be. The only beastman allowed up here without your uncleās explicit permission was Hiori, and youād stopped coming up here a long time before that rule had been implemented, your uncle suddenly becoming strange about you coming in unannounced once you became a teenager.
The room is just as dusty as youād expected, a fine layer coating every surface and leftover item sitting on the floor. A series of sharp coughs crawl out of your throat the second you step in, the only thing you can use to protect your nose being the thin cotton of your sweatshirt. Once the shock of the amount of dust wears off, distrust soon takes itās place. Your uncle wasnāt the cleanest man on earth but even he would scream if he saw his office like this. And you couldnāt even call this dirty, your finger coming up light grey as you swipe it across a nearby drawer.
This was the kind of dust that came from weeks, if not months of inactivity.
Either way, you try your hardest to push whatever suspicions you have floating around in your mind aside, a few pictures on the wall quickly catching your attention. A lot of them are of you, in fact, all of them are. Portraits of you at different ages and monumental moments; Your first fireworks at 5, the first fish you had ever caught at 10, baking your first birthday cake at 12, your high school graduation at 17. You canāt tell whether itās the dust or the pictures that are bringing tears to your eyes.
A small gasp falls off your lips when you get to the next set of pictures, your fingers ghosting over the two framed portraits, afraid to even touch them directly. You havenāt seen these pictures in such a long time; Your nose, the shape of your jaw, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, split perfectly into two neat pictures, your parents smiling faces staring back at you.
You move down the wall carefully, smoothing a hand down the aged wallpaper, the woes of your dream fading into a dull thrum the settles in the back of your mind, easy-going smile spreading across your face.
The next few pieces strung up are most of your high school transcripts, a mix of B+ās, Cās and Dās scattered along the wall to form a patchwork of grades. Looking at them almost makes you cringe. Back then, youād tried your hardest with a lot of your subjects, but you simply couldnāt shake the feeling that your efforts didnāt matter. You would live your life taking care of the farm the same way your uncle had, so what was the point in trying?
It almost makes you laugh, you hadnāt thought ahead, couldnāt possibly predict your uncleās random outburst, and now you had carried your mediocrity into almost two years of university. Your gaze focuses on a bright orange sticky note attached to the wall, hanging between your graduation photo and the closest transcript, the sarcastic laughter that had previously bubbled up catching in your throat.
Thatās my baby!!
It doesnāt get any better for your already high emotions, your eyes flicking all over the room to stop the tears hanging off your lashes from actually falling when it stops at a separate piece of paper, the sticky note under it somehow shining even brighter. Itās your university acceptance letter, a copy of the original paper youād gotten in the mail.
I promised your parents I would give you a life better than mine. Youāll understand when youāre older ĖįµĖ
Youād never expected a real excuse as to why your uncle had pushed you out that day, and you assumed youād never get one.
You were more than ready to push the incident aside if you could just come back and see him once. His absence only makes your heart squeeze tighter; You want to tell him about how much youāre struggling, how youād rather be on the farm, how him pushing you away was a fate marginally worse than the life he thought you wouldāve hated here.
Your tear filled gaze tracks itās way across the room, scanning for anything else before it stops on the dark wooden desk right in the middle on the room. You hadnāt missed it when you originally stepped in, it was just so empty your eyes had moved past it automatically.
Thereās only two things sitting on the now mottled grey wood, a brown leather bound journal, and a letter that sits dangerously on the edge of the desk. You creep closer to the table, smoothing your fingers over the journal first. Itās handmade, you can tell from the leather itself, and if you ran your hands across the stitching inside, you would probably notice all the bumps and knots of your uncleās shoddy sewing skills. The peaceful smile fades from your face when you look at the letter properly; Your name scrawled across the envelope in chicken-scratch handwriting.
Itās practically identical to the one you picked out of your mailbox.
āWhat are you doing?ā
Your head snaps to the door, neck moving so quick it starts to ache immediately. But the slight pain is nothing compared to fear that shoots through your veins like ice, the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up.
Hiori stands in the doorway, completely still, gaze boring into your face like heās looking for something; Guilt? Fear? You canāt tell. His face is completely obscured by the poor lighting of the hallway, the only thing you can actually see are the curved horns sticking out of his head. Your gaze travels downwards unintentionally, the breath lodged in your throat hitching painfully at the red liquid dripping from his black gloves.
He follows your gaze down to his hands, slow, careful like heās trying not to frighten a small animal, his eyes glowing from behind the darkness as he stares back up at you. He finally steps into the room, peeling the gloves off with a detached indifference that makes your skin crawl, throwing them into the empty bin at the entrance of the room.
āAh.. relax, itās paint. You wanted one of the barns repainted. Wrote it in your report yesterday, remember?ā
Your eyes never leave him, not as he stops a few inches away from you, hands held in the air, the smile not reaching his eyes. He waits for what feels like hours, looking down at you with this gentle look that only increases your anxiety. Your body flinches, almost instinctively when his hand comes down to meet your face, gentle strokes with his thumb across your cheek.
āYour uncle wouldnāt like it if he caught you in here.. you know youāre not allowed.ā
His hand slips down around your waist in a smooth motion that leaves you winded, your head snapping back to the letter still laying peacefully on your uncleās desk, the envelope calling your name with every inch Hiori guides you past. Itās burnt into the forefront of your mind, the need to sprint back and open it settling under your skin until the office door slams shut behind both of you.
Itās another dream; The feeling of gravel digging into the soles of your feet splitting your eyelids open before you even realise youāre dreaming again, your bleary gaze swinging wildly as you try to gain your surroundings. Youāre in one of the barns scattered along your uncleās farm, the bright, shaky drawings spread across a few walls sparks recognition in your mind once more.
This was the barn you were in charge of when you still worked for your uncle, your first bit of actual responsibility, along with the meagre amount of similarly aged beastmen your uncle had also handed over to you, though they were your friends more than anything.
Just like youād expected, a child walks into the barn a second later, carrying a bucket filled with soap and water so heavy itās clearly taking everything in them not to drop it. Itās you again. Youāre a lot older in the dream, your slightly longer hair, the dark green and black work overalls practically dwarfing your form. You look to be about twelve now, age barely dimming the childish joy still swirling around in your gaze.
The twelve year old you drops the bucket in the sand, swiping a shaky hand across their sweaty face as they let out an exaggerated sigh, turning back to the barnās entrance with a huff, as if theyāre waiting for someone.
To your complete shock, Hiori isnāt the one to step into the barn a moment later, the memories of him following you around everywhere since that encounter with him in the forest clashing with the sight of the quiet looking sheep beastman that shuffles up to your dream self. Looking at the meek child, your heart squeezes painfully.
You knew her.
She was an anti-social hybrid that had ended up in your uncleās hands because no other farm wanted her. You remember how hard it had been to even speak to her, let alone become her friend.
āNo, Mari you have to do it like thisā
Your gaze snaps up to watch your dream self taking the girl, Mariās, hand before pressing a sponge into it, wiping the scraggly drawings off the barn walls. She letās a light laugh escape her lips, her wide yellow-green eyes crinkling softly, the horizontal lines of her irises focused solely on your younger self.
Itās hard watching her smiling face through your now blurry gaze; This was one of the last times youād seen her smile like this, before sheād gone back into her shell. Growing more and more miserable over the years until sheād essentially disappeared when you turned sixteen.
Looking at her now, you believe your uncleās words from back then even less, his theories that sheād run away still not making sense in your mind.
Both of them work in tandem, with you sweeping the barnās hay into a corner as Mari focuses on cleaning the walls like itās a government assigned project. The moment is peaceful, quiet for a while before your younger self drops the broom, sneaking up on Mariās unsuspecting back until theyāre throwing a handful of water at her, laughing when her shoulders jump up in fear.
The peace fades away from there, the two children dissolving into a fit of care free laughter, flinging soap and water all over the barn, all over each otherās clothes, ruining the barn theyād just worked so hard to clean just moments before. It seems like the dream could go on forever, with you watching a playback of your happiest memories, tears gathering on your lashes for the third time that second. But the low rumble of someone calling your name snaps the peaceful atmosphere in half, all three of you turning to find Hiori standing in the doorway, grown just a bit more than you had since the last dream.
The sight makes you flinch, the sun casting a chill shadow that obscures half of his features just the way youād seen him earlier today, the sight of his clothes dripping flashing in your mind, sending another wave of unease through your body.
āCome play with me..ā
His wording is ambiguous, but the way the sheen of his eyes remain trained on your younger self clearly says heās only talking to you, completely ignoring the now shivering child right beside you.
āAww Yo-chan Iām busy right now..ā Your younger self doesnāt seem to think anythingās wrong, their face crumpling into a sympathetic frown before it lights up once more. āBut you can come clean with us! Then we can all play afterā
Hiori barely even shifts, keeping his gaze tracked on your clone, his eyes narrowing slightly in the shadows heās still enclosed in.
āNo. I donāt want to play with her. You promised it would only be the two of us.ā
The temperature in the barn somehow drops several degrees, the icy indifference radiating off such a small child making even you shiver. Mariās shoulders keep trembling, the slight frown on her face now melted into full on gloom that nearly gives way to the tears shining in her eyes. A bout of silence passes through the open air, snaking around your limbs as you watch your younger self grab Mariās hand, dragging her along as you quickly exit the barn, still in a state of disarray.
āWell then weāre not playing with you, youāre being weird..ā
Your gaze never leaves Hioriās form, watching carefully as he turns to see your dream self leave, his hand clamping down on the barnās door, nearly splintering the wood. The dread in your throat doesnāt get the chance to fully choke you before the landscape is warping around you, mixing into a spiral of shapes, colours and senses until it forms the warmth of your houseās kitchen.
Two sets of childish giggles reach your ears in a split second, forcing you to turn your head towards the small bodies crowded around a kitchen cabinet, looking for something you canāt see. From their whispers, it seems like you and Mari are riffling around for snacks, taking advantage of your uncle being out of the house for his usual chores.
It almost works too, the bright wrappings of biscuits and chocolates filling both of their arms for only a minute before theyāre all clattering to the floor, the piercing clack of the kitchen door closing catching the childrenās attention.
For a second, the quick fear of being caught resonates in you too, sharp in the back of your mind until it slowly starts to melt into a harrowing recognition; The memory clicks in your brain, spreading a burning discomfort through your lungs. You know what happens next, but you still look up, studying the utter shock plastered on your twelve year old selfās face as they turn towards the door, Mari letting out a pained shriek that only makes her body tremble harder.
Hiori steps into the kitchen, pushing his hand forward so all three of you can see clearly. His hand is completely mangled; A jagged red scar running from the middle of his hand down to the inside of his elbow, the wound so deep you can almost see his bones under the pulp of oozing dark red and torn skin.
A scream that rivals Mariās tears itself out of your dream selfās throat, their legs rushing them towards Hiori as they try to cover the blood and gore with their oversized clothes. You spot your uncle running into the kitchen a second later, drawn in by the screams of what he considered his only children. But now, standing at the other entrance with the stunned replica of your uncle, youāre given a perfect view of the scene he had walked into, of what you couldnāt see back when your panic had forced you to focused on the marred wound.
The perfectly intact, serene smile spread across Hioriās face. His tender gaze directed only on you as a cacophony of screams and cries rise around him, like he wasnāt bleeding out his entire body weight in blood.
Your mouth tastes like ash, bones sagging deep into the mattress as the desire to get out of bed completely erases itself from your mind. The dream still burns underneath your eyelids, fear, shock and pain mixing together in your psyche, making your heart beat erratically.
You havenāt seen that scar in so long, you almost forgot it existed. The deformed gash hides under gloves and long sleeved uniforms, the last glimpse of it had been yesterday when Hiori peeled those filthy gloves off just to touch you. You can still feel it grating against your skin, searing a jagged line into your cheek like you had been the one cut up.
The sun makes itās journey across the sky, itās warm light filtering through the sliver under your curtains, fading from a pale yellow, to light blue, to the warm golden orange that signifies the afternoon sun. Your body barely moves an inch, arm flung over your eyes as you try to block out the frequent knocks rapping on your door, a quick clatter that came every hour.
Itās been too long before you finally let yourself rise, stumbling out of the room with a tired agony lacing every step, picking up the clip board left right in front of your door, barely looking at the tasks you have for the day while you trudge outside.
The sun bears down on your already withered form, slowing down your steps while you flit from barn to barn. A lot of the ones you noted down to report are freshly painted, a bit of it getting on your clothes as you accidentally run into one. But you canāt tell whether that settles the anxiety in your gut or makes it worse. At some point, your legs come to an abrupt halt, pausing right in front of the farmās entrance, gazing down at the path that leads down to the main town centre.
You only have two days left, and you still havenāt set eyes on the only man you came back for. Two days on this farm thatās starting to turn into a mottled plot of cold stares and bad memories, weighing down on your mind more than any coursework ever could. Your calves tremble slightly, tempted to push you forward until youāre moving past the farm, past the town and into the nearest train back home.
āMove out of the way.ā
Thereās a beastman standing behind you, a dog hybrid with a wheelbarrow clasped tightly in his hands, his shaggy black hair not even stifling the animosity radiating from his gaze. Your body moves aside automatically, eyes flicking down to the clip board still in your hands in embarrassment, before a muttered whisper reaches your ears, the words āfucking idiotā ringing in your mind.
āExcuse me?ā
The beastman turns around, fur shifting as he raises an eyebrow at you, the tired sag of his shoulders signifying his desire to end the conversation.
āI heard what you said, do you have a problem with me?ā
Irritation bubbles up in your throat, coating every inch of your words. You were already fed up, that dream youād had drained all the energy out of you, you didnāt have the time or patience for anyone today.
āOr is this some stupid prank you guys are pulling? What exactly has my uncle been teaching you all?ā
āYou have no right to talk about him like that.ā
The beastman finally speaks, dropping the wheelbarrow into the dirt with too much force, his hands balling into fists at his side, much to your anger.
āIāll talk about my family however I like! Who gave you permission to tell me-ā
āYou abandoned him.ā Heās breathing hard now, like an immature child throwing a tantrum. But his words make you freeze. āYou abandoned the boss when he needed you, and now youāre frolicking around like everythingās alright! You and that sheep boy of yours.ā
Both of you stand there in complete silence, a nagging feeling gnawing at the edges of your sanity. The words ring painfully in your head, the mention of Hiori bringing on a wave of anxiety coursing through your veins.
ā..What are you talking about?ā The words poke the roof of your mouth, a deep sense of suspicion turning them into lies that tastes like charcoal. āUncleās in town.. heās helping some of our neighbours. Yo-chan told meā¦ā
The beastman scoffs, finally picking the wheelbarrow back up again, turning like he canāt stand the sight of you.
āYou actually believe a word that sheep says? You donāt think heās strange? Then you really are an idiot.ā
Itās painful how much what he says makes sense. Everyone had been so shifty the second you mentioned your uncle, except Hiori. Why had you just taken his word for it? A heavy gaze directed at the back of your head forces you to turn, your eyes narrowing into the distance as you spot Hiori standing a while away from you, shears clutched tightly in his hands.
He stands there for a long time, the sweat rolling down your face no longer from the setting sun. You watch him raise a hand in the air, waving it gently until you reciprocate, a small gesture that he still manages to see from there. The smile on his face a mask that doesnāt match the frigidity in his eyes.
The beastmanās words weigh heavy on your heart, not even giving you the grace of sleep as you jump out of bed the second the sun rises high enough, the flaps of your unbuttoned overalls flying in the air behind you while you run out of the room. You needed answers; That was the only thing you could think of as you pass barn after barn, searching for a head of shaggy black hair, that beastman was clearly the only one who would give you what you needed.
You stop almost every second, pulling aside separate beastmen just trying to do their jobs, describing the hybrid youād spoken to yesterday with as much vigour as you can. Itās most likely the panic taking over your face but everyone keeps their comments to themselves, giving you genuine answers for the first time in a while.
The only problem is no one has seen him, not since he retreated to his room last night.
You start getting into abandoned territory, barns with cracks spread across their walls, weeds snaking along the bottom of the buildings. Ones no one has used in a long time, closest to the edge of the forest. Youāre about to pass another one, a slow rising panic forming in your stomach, before you hear it. Monotone whispers floating through the air to get to you, clashing directly with the panicked ones that seem to respond.
A flash of cyan from behind the barn youāre right in front of cements your decision, your back sticking to the closest red wall, right beside the entrance. The beastman you spoke to is pinned to the outside wall of the barn, Hiori holding him there like heās some thief, gloved hand fisting the hem of his uniform.
You canāt hear what theyāre saying from where you are, their mouths moving faster than you can catch. But the calm indifference on Hioriās face compared to the absolute fear on the other beastman tells you all you need to know. Straining your ear a bit more, you swear you hear your name leave Hioriās lips, his next sentence freezing the blood in your veins.
āā¦Keep your mouth shut.ā
Heās barrelling towards your direction faster than you can comprehend, and before you can think about it, youāre ducking into the barn itself, watching his retreating back from behind the entrance wall.
Itās been about two minutes since he left when the other beastman finally emerges, basically limping his way to the main house before you grab him, dragging him behind the wall and turning him to face you.
He panics for a second, clearly scared Hiori somehow came back to threaten him again, until he realises itās you, dragging his arm out of your grip with a suspicious glare. Now that heās right in front of you, you can see the litany of injuries scattered across his face. His right eye is swollen shut, with blood pooling from the cut on his lip. You can almost see a patch of his fur thatās been ripped out.
āWhoā¦ā You can barely get the words out of your throat, trying to connect the kind boy you grew up with to the damage heās apparently caused. But with the dreams youāve been having, you canāt fully think of him the same way you used to.
āWho do you think did this to me?ā He scoffs, warily glancing towards the landscape outside before his head snaps back to you. āLook, Iām not allowed to talk to you. If I get caught heāllā¦ā
He canāt seem to push himself to say anymore, wincing slightly at his injuries, his legs moving to exit the barn. Your hand shoots out faster, catching his arm as you turn him back to face you one more time.
āPlease, at least tell me what happened to my uncle..ā
It must be the quiet desperation written across your features, tears nearly rolling down your cheeks until he finally sighs, pity swirling in his gaze towards you for the first time since yesterday.
ā..The police took him away, almost a year ago. I saw it with my own eyes.ā He stretches a hand out beyond the barn, shaky finger directed at the building the beastmen stayed in. āThat sheep went with him. I thought he was gonna bring the boss back, thought it was some mistake..ā
His hand drops back at his side in resignation, the tone of his voice taking on a whispering shake you recognise as him trying not to shed any tears.
āBoss never came back. But your little sheep boy did. Wouldnāt tell anyone anything, made it seem like the boss ran off and left everything to him.ā
Heās turned back to the entrance before you can stop him, limping away with a quiet determination. He looks at you one more time, frowning at you from over his shoulder.
āThat guyās a total weirdo.. āM sure boss thought the same thing..ā
You donāt know how you manage to fall asleep, but somehow you do. The weight of the dayās pressure pressing down heavy on your eyelids. And just like the previous nights, it takes less than a few seconds for you to get sucked into your dreams. Youāre a lot less disoriented than before; Your eyes focusing immediately on the trees and shrubbery surrounding you. The dream is taking place in the forest behind the farm, just like the first one youād had. The melancholic nostalgia that had swirled around in your chest now replaced by a dull ache.
A younger Hiori sits under the tree, staring into the fully healed scar still attached to his arm, flexing his fingers like heās seeing them for the first time. He doesnāt look much older from the last dream youād seen him in, only a head taller than the twelve year old version that still haunts your mind, the blood trickling from his hand sticking to your psyche.
Things start to make sense the second your own face pops out from behind the tree, smiling down at Hiori with a calm fondness.
Youāre seventeen in this dream, only a year before the famous argument with your uncle, the youthful unsuspecting joy on your dream selfās face canāt compare to the anxious tiredness reflected on yours.
āDoes your hand still hurt..?ā
The younger teenage version of you takes a careful seat beside Hiori, glancing down at the pale scar with an anxious worry, waiting for a second before they take his hand in theirs, thumb rubbing small circles into the back of it. He doesnāt answer your question, simply staring down at where your hands are conjoined with a soft smile, squeezing your dream selfās hand slightly.
ā..Iām sorry.ā
āWhy are you apologising?ā Hiori tilts his head to the side, genuine confusion mixing in with a subtle fondness, as your younger clone stares back.
āIf I was with you that day.. you wouldnāt have gotten injured.ā
The guilt manifests itself in your own heart, stabbing painfully at whatever dull sense of peace you had watching your memories play out. You push the feeling down, swallowing the dry lump in your throat as a wave of nausea passes through you. Of course you hadnāt known back then, but with how calm Hiori had been that day.. it wouldnāt be a crazy assumption to make that heād inflicted that scar on himself.
āIt hurts a littleā¦ā
The sentence barely comes out a muffled whimper, so quiet even you have to strain to hear it. But your younger self only looks up calmly, showing Hiori a sad smile before theyāre bending over, placing the tiniest kiss on the back of his palm, around where the scar starts.
Your mouth opens slightly, ready to ask if that small gesture made the grotesque scar feel even a little bit better but Hiori is faster, closing in on your dream self with tightly shut eyes, the tips of his ears a barely perceptible pink.
The kiss lasts less than a second, your lips barely meeting but it meant the world to both of you back then, your heart beating loud enough for the other to hear. It tasted like strawberries, the soft feeling clinging to your lips even now. The moment is ruined the second Hiori gets dragged away, the fabric of his uniform pushing against his throat while your dream self starts to panic. Itās your uncle, holding Hiori by the hem of his shirt, his manic yelling still sneaking into your ears as you try to keep them covered, your eyes shut tight.
You already know what happens next; The tears rolling down your cheeks, your uncleās shouts for you to get back in the house, you turning back in time to watch him slap Hiori before youāre gone.
Looking back up now, just like the last dream, your position puts you right next to the dark look Hiori gives your uncle, almost like he wants to kill him. A shadow passing over his usually bright eyes, so bad that even your uncle flinches back from what you can see. Now, you find that the anger and sadness you felt towards your uncle has now hardened into a strengthening suspicion.
The hallway to your uncleās office feels like itās twisting into a confusing spiral, disorienting you on purpose to keep you from the bits of truth emerging from every dream youāve had. Your phone clutched tightly in your hand as you stumble up the stairs, your footsteps echoing loudly in your ears even as the floorboards barely creek.
The room is just as dusty as the last time you stepped in, a cloud of dirt erupting with every slow step, an even thicker layer of dust now coating the portraits as well. You donāt stop to reminisce this time, your only focus on the desk still seated in the middle of the room.
Itās completely empty; No journal, no letter.. nothing. Just a solid dark surface, significantly cleaner than the rest of the room. Your heart drops into your stomach, and for a second, your mind goes back to the way Hiori had pushed you out of this office earlier, how quick he was to shoo you away, and it feels like your stomach is churning all over again.
Your legs carry you around the small space in panicked circles, scouring the room with all the energy you have left in you; Yanking out drawers, checking behind picture frames, under pieces of furniture. Every five seconds, your eyes dart towards the closed door, waiting for the one time you would look back and Hiori would be standing there, ready to drag you back to your room.
It feels like itās been hours when a part of you finally gives up, your back meeting the farthest wall of the room, sliding down until youāre crumpled a few feet away from the table. You could just leave. The thought takes root in your mind, spreading itās vines from your head downwards until itās clenching painfully around your heart. You could wait at the train station till morning and just leave.
But how would you live knowing something happened to your uncle and you didnāt find out what? That the last time youād spoken to him was in an argument you now know he didnāt mean.
You let your head fall into your hands, wracking your brain for any loose floorboards or hidden drawers you couldāve seen when you were younger, your mind coming up completely empty. Just as the tears begin to gather on your lashes, blurring your vision while you slowly raise your head, eyes locking on a shimmer of light gold right opposite you. Youāre on your hands and knees before you know it, a shallow hope rising in your chest as you quickly approach the desk again.
Itās a lock, gold rim surrounding the tiny hole. The drawer itās attached to is significantly smaller than the rest, an inch shorter than the others, so much so that if anyone had only looked from the top of the desk, they wouldnāt have seen it at all. A quick tug tells you the obvious, itās locked, but the way it rattles on itās hinges means the lock isnāt that strong. Without caring about how much noise you might make, you plant your hand on the top of the table, the other firmly gripping the drawer handle before youāre pulling with all your might. It hurts, the handle digging painfully into your fingers, your shoulder groaning under the pressure of every pull, but you keep at it.
Once, twice, as many times as you can manage, the loud clatters of it rattling in itās shell echoing in the room until itās all you can hear, drowning out the sound of your stuttering breath. You donāt count how many more pulls it takes before the drawer finally comes loose with a startling bang, nearly throwing you back into the wall.
The sound slowly fades into the night, just as loud. You probably only had a few minutes before someone came to check out the noise.
Whether or not itās a good or bad thing, the journal and letter are sitting neatly in the drawer, staring up at you, begging you to open them as you hastily lay them on the desk, flipping the journal open first. The first few pages are calm accounts of your uncleās past days, his everyday life on the farm, both before and after he adopted you. The pages that mention your parentās deaths have small marks on them, marks you recognise are tear drops the moment you slide your fingers over them. You blink back another wave of tears as you keep flipping, stopping the second you spot Hioriās name.
30/10/2013
I brought a boy back home, tiny thing, almost as small as ____. It wasnāt on purpose, itās not like Iām going around picking up small children. The poor thing just seemed so lonely. People abandon beastmen like they drink water, especially the younger ones. ____ seems to get along with him, which is good. Having a friend on the farm will help with the grief.
Every mention of your name is smudged over, the paper dried and cracking in a way that meant water had ruined the quality, but you can still tell your uncleās talking about you, the small tenderness after each remark reminding you of kinder times. You swallow the memories back down and keep flicking through.
16/03/2014
I donāt know what ____ said to that boy but he follows them around like a lost puppy. Theyāre never away from each other. It makes it difficult to teach him what I need him to know about our farm work, but ____ is happy. I can always teach him another time.
The next entry that mentions Hiori is drastically different, the year scribbled in the corner correlating with the day heād gotten injured. You can feel the tension radiating off each page, your finger following the words along as you read.
10/08/2019
Something happened to the boy. I didnāt even see how it happened and ____ wouldnāt tell me. Mari was too shaken up to say anything either, poor thing looked like she wanted to faint. All I saw was the blood. God, and the screaming. My heart nearly dropped into my ass when I heard ____ scream. But it was the boy, gnarly gash running from his palm up to his elbow. But he didnāt even seem bothered. ____ wasnāt paying attention, but I saw it. The smile on his faceā¦ no child should smile like that with their arm all cut up. I had to drive him all the way to the hospital in town, he didnāt cry once the entire time. It feels like Iām losing my mind but thereās something wrong with that boy.
Your heart twitches in your chest at the mention of the incident again, a hand coming up to try and slow down itās frantic pace. Seeing it written in black ink, confirmed from the view of someone who wasnāt riddled with panic at the time, makes your head pound.
A small part of you thought you had exaggerated the dream, made up the smile youād seen on Hioriās face. But this was solid proof, all the proof your suspicions needed. A few more page flips and youāre at the next memory your dreams had shown you.
02/05/2023
I caught both of them behind the farm, in that spot Iāve told ____ not to be in numerous times, but they never listen. That boy put his hands on my baby. Used his injury like he didnāt inflict it on himself. I had to step in. I didnāt mean to shout at them like that, I wasnāt that angry. I just donāt like the way seeing that boy around them makes me feel. If ____ had seen the way he looked at me after they were gone, they wouldāve understood my concerns. I honestly thought he was going to kill meā¦ Heās getting bigger, stronger, more erratic and somehow smarter at the same time. I need to separate the two of them.
Youāre getting to the end of the journal now, the emptier pages peeking out at you the longer you flip through. The writing seems to be getting more and more frantic, you can barely read the even shorter paragraphs now. But one sticks out to you, the date being a few months after you left for university.
24/01/2025
I knew it.
I knew there was something wrong with that boy. This is why Iāve been keeping my eye on him. I saw him sneak into the barn, followed him. Mari didnāt run away from us, he kept her in one of the old barns. That poor girl. He snapped her neck. I saw him do itā¦ watched the light fade from her eyes. I wasnāt careful enough, I think he saw me. Itās only a matter of time before he does something to me too. Thank god ____ left before this happened, they can never come back.
The world feels like itās tilting around you, the desk seemingly zooming in and out at the same time. Everything suddenly sounds too loud, every laboured breath you take caving in your chest. Your legs stutter along the floor, barely keeping you upright as you place a hand on the table, tears dripping into the dust right below you.
That beastmanās testimony, Mariās disappearance, your uncleās erratic behaviour. It all clicks together in a puzzle you donāt want to complete. The boy youād loved like your own family had ripped it apart with his bare hands. You canāt even begin to imagine that the hands that held you so tenderly were the same ones that murdered your best friend and framed your uncle for it in one swift motion.
Your heart breaks for Mari, her deathbed being the home she worked so hard to accept. How had she been here for so long and you never knew? Never questioned anything. Your hand finds the letter before you can even collect yourself, tearing it open with a desperate ferocity as your hands tremble harder.
Something had told you to pack your bag that morning, a nagging feeling you just couldnāt shake off. Now itās all you can think about, flashes of the train taking you back to safety crossing your mind as your gaze flies over the letter, the need to read more of your uncleās words taking over every bit of your rationality.
The first paragraphs make you pause; Everything is exactly the same as the one you left back in your accommodation. Each letter written in the same cadence, down to every last comma and period. It makes you shiver, your shoulders clenching painfully while you keep reading. The last part seems to be the only new piece.
Iām sorry kiddo, you know I love you, I shouldnāt have spoken to you like that last time we talked. Try and find it in your heart to forgive your good old uncle, hm? I love you. Iāve loved you since the second you were born, just as much as your parents did. Thatās why I need you to listen very carefully. Do not come back to the farm, no matter what. I know itās hard to believe, but you will not be safe there. That sheep boy is not who you think he is. I donāt know what heāll do if he gets a hold of you, but I wonāt let it happen first before I find out. If youāre reading this then something has already happened to me, donāt come looking for me, itās not worth it. Iād rather suffer ten times over than let anything happen to you.
I want you to look forward, make something of yourself. Your parents and I will be proud of you no matter what.
Love,
Your favourite uncle
The letter is plucked out of your hands faster than you can react to, a solid arm snaking itās way around your waist, a heavy weight burrowing deep into your neck. A shaky scream crawls itās way out of your throat, your body trembling harder than before, an icy, paralysing fear creeping through your veins. Hiori presses a soft kiss into the skin at your neck, letting out a small huff as both of you stare down at the letter.
āHow much do you know..?ā
āā¦Everything.ā
He laughs for a second, the face in your peripheral vision crumpling into a look of pure disgust before you can blink.
āMm.. Your uncle always did have a big mouth.ā
You let him card a hand through your hair; Gentle, reverently like heās handling a porcelain doll, the fear locking your limbs too much for you to do anything. He finally turns you around, swiping away the tears still trickling down your cheeks with his thumb, before leaning down to kiss another one away, not even giving you the chance to dodge with his other hand pressed firmly into the back of your head.
āYou werenāt supposed to find out like this.. I had everything planned. I donāt know why your uncle and that stupid dog were so insistent on telling you the truth, you were happier without it.ā
You canāt even escape him when you force your eyes downwards, his body dropping to meet your gaze as he kneels in front of you. The look in his eyes almost makes you want to throw up; The blinding devotion in every inch of the smile he gives you doing nothing to calm your frantic heart. Before you can say anything else, he scoops you up into his arms, throwing your body over his shoulder with a shallow grunt, starting towards the door.
āIām not done with your room, but itās fine. Weāll make it work..ā
You start kicking your legs, balling your hands into hardened fists as you slam them against his back. He never stops moving; The tune heās humming a sharp contrast against your frantic pleas. One of your swings finally connects, the tip of your foot aching with how hard it snaps into his stomach, but it still doesnāt deter him. And thatās when he reacts, his hand coming up to press against your legs, keeping them held down against his chest as the office door closes behind you both.
One final time.
Your childhood bedroom is just as bright as the last time youād seen it.
There isnāt a single speck of dust on any of the furniture, everything has been well maintained, unlike your uncleās office. It feels like youāre sitting in a time capsule; The light blue floral wallpaper youād picked out with your uncle in perfect condition, the fairy lights still hanging above your bed has completely new bulbs. All of your childhood toys, drawings, and textbooks remain neatly scattered around the room.
You canāt tell how long itās been, you remember your phone clattering to the floor the minute Hiori picked you up, but being forced to watch the sun rise and set everyday told you it had been a week. Your phone was probably riddled with notifications; E-mails from lecturers about your absences, texts from your flatmates about where you couldāve possibly gone. The heavy chain attached to your ankle clinks loudly as you shift your leg, the rocking chair youāre sitting in swaying gently in front of the roomās window.
The thick carpet feels like sand under your feet, matching the general softness of your prison. Everything has been padded like youāre a wandering child; Each drawer corner covered in foam wrapping, all your pens, scissors, any sharp objects are gone. Even the window youāre looking out of is blocked off, thick white bars the size of metal pipes covering most of the view youāre trying to distract yourself with.
All the beastmen you never got the chance to speak to resume their daily tasks, milling about with a quiet urgency you can see even from up there. Some of them glance up at your window, pity bleeding into the short looks they give you before they rush off to other tasks. Through your miserable haze, you hear a drawn out creak as the door opens, several footsteps echoing against the carpeted floor until they stop right behind you, a sturdy hand placing itself on your shoulder.
āWhat are you looking at?ā
āā¦Nothing.ā
Hiori presses a small kiss to your temple, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face, ignoring the slight tremble in your limbs. Your fear only seems to make him smile harder, his soft fur brushing against your cheek as he pushes his face into your neck, as if heās trying to weld your skin together.
He moves a second later, perching on the edge of your window sill, blocking the only sliver of normalcy you have. You feel a finger under your chin, forcing you to look upwards into the disgusting amount of affection hanging from his irises.
āYouāve been down lately, Iāll get you something nice the next time I go into town.ā
An imperceptible hum is all you give him, but he seems to take it, nodding slowly before a familiar smile spreads across his face again.
āBut I have other good news..ā He pauses long enough for his hand to travel up to your head, rubbing several strands in between his fingers. āYour uncleās being released soon.ā
The news doesnāt make your heart soar like youād once expected it to, the organ sinking deep into your gut, beating wildly.
āHeās lucky I couldnāt plant more evidence in time. But Iām sure two years in a damp cell has taught him to mind his business..ā
You canāt imagine what two years in jail did to your uncle, and if Hiori had gotten his way, your uncle wouldāve never seen the light of day again. Tears are dripping down your face now, plopping onto your trembling hands with silent drops. You can feel your throat locking up painfully, the barbed wire of your misery wrapping itself around your very being.
āā¦What are you going to do to him?ā
Your voice comes out a pained rasp, a hopeless whisper that floats into the silence on your room, causing Hiori to pause for what feels like a lifetime. He tilts his head to the side, light cyan bangs barely obscuring the brief annoyance that flashes in his eyes before heās back to looking at you with a calm smile that makes you shiver.
āI donāt need him giving you ideas.. but the most I can do is break his legs. Iāll leave him aliveā¦ā His hand is back on your face, his knuckles ghosting soft lines down your cheek. āā¦Just for you.ā
The horror in your eyes has melted into a harsh numbness, your heart stopping briefly before it throbs painfully. Your body no longer feels like your own, the numbness spreading until you feel it take over, forcing your head into a small nod. Hiori flashes a blinding smile once more, leaning down to meet your lips in a kiss you no longer have the energy to dodge.
Your tired gaze sweeps over to the window, watching as all the beastmen below gather around the farmās entrance, the crowd soon parting to reveal a tired looking, middle aged man. Heās staring up at your window, with enough pain to rival the one slowly spreading through your chest.
Why not make a master thread here too. Compilation of a bunch of player icon style illustrations ive doneā¦ some illustrations are missing because theyre in wip hell rn lol . Mostly kins and a kiis i made for a friend over on twitter :)
he definitely like send ya shirtless or freaky pics
sleep callsssssss (he goes on mute and jerks it to yer breathing)
definitely a discord user, and i feel like he'd date you even when he goes pro. like yes, the popular soccer super star has a discord bf/gf/s.o
spoils youuuuuuu
decides to just buy you a ticket to the u20 vs bluelock game. he'll sneak away just to see you.
y'all definitely fuck the first time you see eachother , and its the most freakiest sex-marthton ever. he's had so many ideas for so long </3 (ends up being in a public bathroom, but oh well.
on a darker note, he first worries the shit outta ya when he disappeared for blue lock. he thought about sneaking to steal his phone back every night just for you.
tangentwithtanner
izzy806
dailybridgerton
vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
2087
titsay
gummygunk
