The night after a big score is perfect for a guy to get lucky, isn't it? Well, she has a surprise in store. Don't keep her waiting, and do cross your fingers~
Tags: NSFW, Male!Reader, Sub!Yelan, friends with benefits. Author's notes and some context in the reblog.
You're frozen in place, eyes all over the treat right in front of you.
Yelan greets you in all her glory, with nothing but her trophy jacket cascading over her bare shoulders for decency; shamlessly splayed out on the green poker table...
She rests her arms above her head, giving you the signiature view of her smooth armpits, and letting her unrestrained tits spill to the sides, free of any pesky bras; you can tell by how tight her buds are that she's enjoying displaying her arguments. Her plush thighs cover anything below her slim belly, but your imagination is working hard to fill in the blanks. As your cheeks burn and your eyes feast on her wares, your pants begin to feel increasingly tight and inconvenient.
Her lips, decorated with a special, rosy lipstick, move slowly when she speaks. "I told you how it goes. You scratch my back, I scratch yours..." Yelan smirks when her eyes fall below your belt. "And it seems you've got an awful itch to scratch, mm?"
Your mind is forced back to action when she throws something to you; one of her Hydro dice lands in the palm of your hand.Â
âWe're partners, you and I...â Yelan purrs, tracing her hand around her navel, fingertips touching something hidden just behind her shapely legs. âBut we could benefit from each other in more ways than just business...â
âYelanâŚâ You whisper, shamelessly eye-fucking her. A glance at her delicious body makes your head spin - if she uncovered what parts she concealed, you'd likely collapse right there, with a hot, wet stain on your pants... âDamn, I think I'm dreaming...â
âIf you are, it's a nice and wet one, no doubt~â She strokes her left thigh with slow, sensual motions. Her fingers sink slighty into her soft, supple curves. âLet's make a deal. You stuffed my sack full of Fatui Mora, so I'll help you empty the one dangling between your legs~ Let fate decide how.â Her composure wavers with every word, every promise of dirty fun. She smirks, but the blush betrays her. "You in?"
âAll in!â You never responded faster.
Yelan's lips part with excitement. âThen let me tell you what's on the menu, hm~?â
âIf you roll a one, you'll get a kiss for your troubles. But don't go frowning, because it won't be just a kiss. I've seen how you stared at me, how you always just barely grazed my lips when we kissed..." She bites her lip. "I don't want you to hold it anymore. I want you to shove your lips against mine and tongue-fuck me like you mean it~ As for your fingers, well... Everything is fair game~"
"Enduring my teasing all these days, while seeing my fuckable body battle those tight clothes of mine must have been torture... If fate treats you to a two, I'll clear that backlog of dense cum glued in your sweaty nuts with my hands. You know how agile they are, don't you? I know my way around a stud like you, I promise you'll be shooting dust by sunrise~"
"I've caught you staring down my bra more times than I can count - just as I wanted, why else would I adorn them with an eye-catching dangle? For a three, I'll lube my girls up and make you a nice, warm cocksleeve~ I can't wait to feel your tip rubbing across my fat tits~ They can't go unpunished for tempting good boys like you to think dirty things..."
"Fuck..." She is blushing brightly now, and her legs rub together in anticipation. "I can't wait. I've seen that poor, fat cock stuffed into those nasty pants, getting all sweaty and dirty, with no eager lips to give it a bath... That'll change if you roll a four. I'll get on my knees like a good slut and kiss, lick, suck and swallow whatever you tell me to~ Don't go easy on me either - don't you think I'm overdue for a rough throatfuck for all those things I whispered into your ear? Please, don't leave a girl with an empty stomach, baby~"
"Tell me, Y/N, do you think something's missing when you see my stomach?" She rubs it intently. "That's right - a nice, big bulge from a real cock ramming my defenceless womb. A five will let you wet your whistle between my fertile folds and rearrange my guts however you see fit... You can't imagine how many times I fucked myself with a fake cock, imagining it's your throbbing monster breeding me like I'm meant to..."
"I bet I'm gonna regret this tomorrow, but fuck it - no risk, no reward. I should charge you hazard pay though, because if you roll a six and hilt that bitch-breaker in my ass, it's gonna break... I'll be damaged goods, there's no way my hole'll go back to normal after you have your way with it... Mm~ Get it, and make me scream~!"
"So... Are you feeling lucky?"
"Roll it!"
⤠⥠⧠â˘
You rolled â!
[If this post gets 50 notes, you'll get to see what happens! Share your wishes with Yelan, I bet she'll think about them~ (applies to all of these, of course)]
You rolled â!
[If this posts gets 75 likes and 5 reblogs, Yelan will give you a very helping hand.]
You rolled â!
[If this post gets 100 likes, you'll get to feel the softness of clouds... Warm, wet, comfy... A man's paradise.]
You rolled a â!
[If this post gets 125 likes, you'll get Yelan her daily dose of dairy. It's good for the bones, you know!]
You rolled a â!
[If this post gets 150 likes, you'll make Yelan's fantasy come true. Celestia forbid a girl wants to get railed!]
You rolled a â !
[If this post gets 200 likes, you'll show Yelan who's boss, and make her feel things she never even imagined. Also, as a bonus, I'll share point you to the image that inspired this fic!]
Thanks for reading! This is the first "interactive" post I came up with, so let me know what you think!
A/N: The days are getting shorter and darkness reigns. What lurks in the gloom? Nothing good, but also nothing Lauma couldn't handle. Enjoy!
CW: Horror elements, body horror (deer gore, I suppose? but nothing bad actually happens), mentions of monsters eating humans. But rest assured, all's well that ends well.
Nod-Krai, mysterious and ravaged land that it is, is home to countless legends of strange, fantastical and truly imposing creatures. Amongst the fairies, the demons, the humans of blessed blood and sapient machines possessed by ancient dragon spirits there are some less grand, but nonetheless curious finds. Horses that drag bold adventurers into the frigid depths, beautiful men and women tempting lost travelers into bogs, eerie lights leading the lost back home⌠Or those that make sure their prey does not return home.Â
Rimehorn deer are a favorite amongst local hunters. They are prized for their hides, meat and antlers so much that there are very few left outside of the realm of the Frostmoon Scions where all creatures, big and small, can find refuge. Nonetheless the greedy ventured into the groves of Hiisi Island, looking for easy money. Some were stopped, some turned back either in moral reflection or fear - those were the lucky ones, for nobody knows what truly became of their bolder colleagues. All that scouts and rescue teams ever found were camping remnants, scraps of bloodied clothing and a terrible stench looming over the remains.Â
Scions believe those willing to harm children of nature that seek shelter under the statue of the Goddess are met with swift punishment by the very creatures they desire to kill. Some of the animals, tradition says, gain divine blessings to carry out just work against the poachers. Outlanders might laugh off this belief, but the locals treat it seriously; some of them saw those âservants of the Moonâ with their very own eyes, watching them from afar. Those that dare to come closer will be able to catch a glimpse of what seems to be an injured or sick animal: skinny, dirty, lanky, perhaps even feral as they do not run away. Some witnesses report that not only were they mangled, but also misshapen. Malformed. Wrong. With extra joints, longer or shorter legs, backs bent upward or downward, heads seemingly screwed on incorrectly. It is said they moved awkwardly, seemingly just learning to walk - only to dash at horrifying speed into the darkness on legs that bended the wrong way, tugged up and down like puppets. Most worryingly of all, however, their eyes are facing forward and theyâve been observed eating carrion.Â
They were given many names in many languages, but most call them simply Nielenie, False Deer or Not-Deer. Regardless of how peaceful they are, no man, woman or child wants to encounter one in the wild; punishment is surely just around the corner if they reveal themselves to their victim.Â
As every Frostmoon Scion, Lauma was taught about these legendary creatures; it wasnât a vast expanse of knowledge, however, as nobody came close to them and lived to tell the tale. She knew only what her forefathers glimpsed from afar and what divine warnings they received from their patron. Hearsays and legends were not satisfactory for her and, using the silver blood coursing within her veins, she sought answers to the nature of Nielenie. But no critter, big or small, knew anything. Or feared to tell the truth.Â
One day a certain man from Snezhnaya visited the island to offer apologies for the arrogant and blasphemous behaviour of his fellows-in-arms. He was charming and handsome, quickly earning himself the kindness of the Scions - head priestess included. He had a young boy with him in tow; his little brother, as he later revealed. The duo partook in the daily rituals of their hosts and enjoyed a respectable banquet until the sundown came.Â
The man took his brother out for a stroll in nature, wanting to show him the beauty of Nod Krai and the friendly animals that lived there - or so he heard. As the sky turned red it quickly made itself apparent that there was no animal in sight, let alone within petting range. Only the birds sang their late songs and the crickets called their kind. As they wandered through the meadows, the older man heard a cry of fear sounding out from the twilight. He told his kin to climb a tree for safety and, eager to throw himself into combat, he ran towards the sound.Â
What he found instead of an active battle zone was a lone rimehorn deer, looking around for predators. Before he walked on, the creature opened its mouth and did it - the very scream, the harrowing noise of a dying man, came out from its bellows. Within it he could pick out a deformed, warped word. Help.Â
The Snezhnayan froze. It wasn't the sound those creatures were meant to make. Neither were they supposed to stay so calm within such a short range of him; he was barely a stone's throw away from it. Whatever was happening wasn't right; he turned back towards the direction his brother was, wondering if it was the right call to leave him alone. Then he looked back to see his game looking back at him.Â
Looking back at him against its own neck, eyes glowing in the dark. Its snout, seemingly ordinary, was turned the other way around, looking back at him over its body. He stood still, processing the sight. Suddenly the deer's head slung to the side, no longer holding on whatever strands of flesh held its now broken neck upright. Instead of collapsing, it stood still, continuing to observe the man with lifeless eyes.Â
Silence.Â
Then, with no warning, it started speeding - backwards. Uncaring of its injuries, the creature bent its back upwards and, shuffling about like a limping dog, Bolted towards the man. Although he was a seasoned warrior, the visitor felt the sting of fear in his heart; he ran in the opposite direction and back towards his brother, hoping that whatever was now pursuing him didn't bring friends. He did not make it far before, out of the darkness, another deer came charging, striking him with its horns and forcing him to the ground with a groan of pain. It pinned him to the earth below with its hooves - cloven, but with the pieces moving as freely as fingers - and whipped around its head, mounted on a flaccid and too-long neck. A disgusting crunch of breaking bones and the sounds of tearing flesh reached him as it opened its mouth, so wide that its jaw cracked and ligaments torn at the unnatural movement; the face could never return to its original shape, it was certain. Blood, thick mucus and the bloodied, torn tongue dropped down on the human from a maw of hundreds of teeth belonging to any and all species of animal he could name. The monster aimed its arsenal at him.Â
âNo! Please, have mercy!â From far away, a woman's voice stopped the âdeerâ, now rejoined by its screaming colleague. Each of the three looked as a delicate, green glow illuminated them more with every second and the approach of a familiar face. Lauma, skipping gracefully over bushes and rocks, positioned her mighty centaurian frame just meters away from the scuffle. She spoke firmly, but she could not conceal a tremble of anxiety. âHe means no wrong! He comes in peace!â
The Nielenie fell still, eyes positioned to look at the woman. The pressure on their victimâs limbs eased.Â
Both mortals shivered as one of the creatures spoke. â...Lau⌠m⌠aâŚâ, the ungodly sound rumbled out of the second monster. It was breathy, choked out, bringing to mind a dying, suffocating newborn.Â
âY-yes, I am the Moonchanter of the Frostmoon Scions. In the name of our patron, the Eternal Moon, I beg for your clemency. Do not take his life.â
âUgh.â Childe tries to brush away the leg of his attacker, still resting over his heart; the monster snorts and he retracts his hand. âEasy! I'm not even sure what I did to deserve to be deer feed.â
The long-necked NieleĹ leans towards Ajax's face. In the short moment of tense silence, they look into each other's eyes. The eyes of the monstrosity are placed in the front of the skull, not on the sides, making Childe that bit more uneasy. It says, more bleets, a word in response. âKnows.â
He narrows his eyes. Lauma interjects before tensions can rise again. âWhat about the boy that he brought with him?â
The âdeerâ with the broken neck approaches Lauma. As it limps around her, her stomach turns when she notices what's left of its head. Seemingly unable to hold its sickening form, the flesh and fur has begun to slough off it, leaving a bloodied skull to hang off its side. Nonetheless, it moves around her, sniffing it with its once-nose. The skeletal jaw ticks slightly when it tears the words out of its mouth.Â
âS⌠sa⌠safe.â Lauma nervously offers her hand to be smelled, which pleases the creature.Â
Childe scoffs. âGood for whatever the hell you are. If anything happened to Teucer I'd-â
Instantly both monsters turn their attention to Childe. He is quickly interrupted before he can finish his arrogant quip. âDon't provoke them, please. Not when you're about to be the first one spared by them.â
âYou're sorely mistaken, miss Moonchanter, if you think I'd go down without a fight.â Childe sends his attacker a tough look, but it couldn't care less. "And that I'd go down at all!"
You glance up from the Fatui to your Lauma. She looks at you with those doe eyes of hers, irresistible in their gentle insistence. You sigh - which comes out as a snort in your monstrous vessel - and step off him. How could you ever refuse her? Let her have this one. Maybe it will be smart enough not to send more of its minions to your home.Â
Not to say they weren't delicious. You'll miss their taste for sure.Â
âThank you, Fearsome One.â Lauma bows her head towards the two of you as the orange haired human gets up and dusts its clothes, mumbling something under its nose.Â
You turn to your subject, who provided the distraction you needed. Normally you would not need to announce it out loud, but circumstances demanded it - you speak. âFollow.â It hurts - your body, flexible in the face of conventional biology as it was, is not meant to speak in human tongues. Every syllable feels like trying to swallow a sharpened metal cube.Â
When the Fatui sees his new journey companion, he rolls his eyes angrily. âSeriously? That thing is going to follow me around?â Lauma yells out in response, loud but maintaining her soft tone. âIt will see you out. Allow it.â
âFine, but don't get near my brother. You're disgusting.â
You don't feel anything when he calls your fellow that. After all, the appearance means to evoke just that. You and Lauma watch Childe slowly disappearing into the bushes, his overseer trotting in tow. She speaks only when it is clear that he can't hear you.Â
âThank you, Y/N. I don't know what would have happened if you dispensed justice.â Lauma places a hand over your back, stroking the fur there. âThere could have been a war.â
When she senses you shifting form, Lauma gives you the space you need. Amidst the cracking of joints and groans of strain, you adjust yourself to resemble something more suited to interaction with her. Despite years of practice, your human form is still imperfect - it is too lanky, tall, pale⌠Not to mention the antlers, ears, eyes, tail, claws⌠It was good enough for your dearest, it seemed, as Lauma never failed to relax around your more humanoid (and presentable) vessel.Â
âHis humans attacked you and your friends.â You say, now without pain, but still feeling awkward at the precise movements needed to say it. The mention of punishment was instantly forgotten - you would not dare raise a hand against her. âYou let him get away. Why?â
âThese weren't his humans, you seeâŚâ She takes your hands, big and clawed, in hers. Her thumb rubs your palm tenderly. âIt's a bit complicated.â
You rumble in response. In what way weren't they his if they spoke the same language, said his name, took orders from him and sported the same symbols? You weren't convinced by this. Yet the feeling of her hands hold yours with such care, caressing them in a soothing rhythm⌠Oh, she'll be the death of you. Was there anything you wouldn't stop yourself from for this womanâŚÂ
Bending down on one knee to meet her eyes, you maneuver your head to dodge her antlers. Lauma places her hand on your head, stroking your hair. âYou must be exhausted.â
Changing forms, speaking, fighting - she was right. Your joints ached, your soul weakened from the strain it took to facilitate such rapid changes in this short time. It was cold tonight and your stomach was empty. The human, a child or whatever he was called, was supposed to be a nice snack for the herd. There was something special in the transgressorsâ bodies that made them taste delicious and nourishing⌠Perhaps a way for your creator to encourage conscientiousness. Today, sadly, you will have to settle for ordinary food.Â
You nod, letting her touch you. Speaking isn't your strong side. Your kind are creatures of action, not mere words. The priestess leans in, declaring softly into your ear:
âMy dear protector, my Fearsome OneâŚâ
You feel anger and bloodlust within you wane in the face of her affection. A creature of nightmare, divine punishment made flesh⌠Eased by a mortal womanâs care⌠How you have fallen from pure faithâŚ
She kisses your left cheek. âFor your heroic efforts I will bring you delicious food, my loveâŚâ You get a kiss on the other one between her words. âI will make your bed when you return⌠I have just washed the covers, you know? They smell of rose and cotton.â
â...â You sigh, this time - like a human. There was no sweeter thing to pour over your raging heart than Lauma. âI will be happy to go home with you. Let that human go back to his own in one pieceâŚâ
She smiles, bringing her face closer to yours. Your eyes meet, and you can't help but smile as well. Lauma brings your face closer and places a tender kiss on your lips. You feel as a cloud in this moment, no matter your place, no matter your time.Â
âIf it's for you, perhaps it is not so badâŚâ
A/N: You might be surprised to see this. Haven't I already done one, well in the past near the birth of my blog? Yes. But I didn't give Sara what she deserved. Now, I see to right that wrong. Just to calm you guys, these extensive headcanons will be limited to the non-human characters as I want to entertain the thought of their pregnancy experience being different from the human one. Anyway, this one is in the same style as Ganyu's, and it's a chonker: around 8 pages long. The writing here is a bit... Hm, serious? I don't know, I feel like it is. But you tell me. Enjoy!
A/N2: I though I'd push myself a little and post this as a send-off to vacations, where appropriate. Good luck lads.
CW: None apply. There's a bit of egg related stuff though, but I find it harmless enough.
Kujou Sara is, in part, a crow - a great surprise, I know. But besides her wings, this influences almost every faucet of her life, from weaker bones through specific self care needs up to⌠Other, more intimate behaviours, that none but her husband has the privilege to witness.Â
Tengu, descending from wild avians, share with them their hormonal nature. Compared to the crow Yokai, humans have it endlessly easier. While in the bodies of the plainer race hormonal changes mildly modify behavior, for Sara, it can nearly change her whole disposition. She has somewhat learned how to power through the changing seasons, but by no means is she immune to their effects.Â
Paradoxically, the easiest season to handle is Winter. During Winter Sara becomes⌠Sad, almost. She doesn't know why she feels lonely, isolated, even with you and all of her colleagues around her. She's carrying herself as if some invisible deity snuffed out her internal fire, rendering her depressed and cold. She does her best not to show it, but even if her act slips her soldiers do not ever point it out - it's the best time for them, as their general tends to be more lenient when her mood drops. Back home, Sara spends lots of time washing herself and pruning her feathers, always cuddling up to you tightly, instinctively seeking warmth and safety. Luckily, at the cost of her mood maybe, she does not need to go through⌠That.Â
The earlier it gets in the year, the more rampant hormones become - still, Fall is very manageable. It succeeds in being the perfect transition between a very vigorous Summer and the depression of Winter. The rain might trouble your flight, but she has her condition show a brighter side during that season. At least, since she can't fly, she doesn't have to maintain her wings as much. This time is also when Sara is at her ideal equilibrium of sternness, and the reason why the war between Watatsumi and Narukami began in late Summer; she is the most focused during this time of year. Her natural cycles slow down, something she welcomes with silent glee.Â
Summer is⌠Difficult. This is where her most secret, most intimate part of life gets the most bothersome. But at the very least those hours spent at home don't come without benefits - she feels powerful, proud and energetic, being able to train twice as hard and twice as long while still being somewhat livable at home. She tends to get defensive of home and hearth, however, and she has an increased tendency to get irritated, or even outright angry at whatever her hormone-pumped brain decides is a risk for her family; even something as minor as interacting with another woman might make her a bit snappy. Even with all those emotions buzzing within herself, Sara is generally more upbeat during the sunny season, even if the common folk won't get to see it.Â
Spring is anything but a reason for being happy, though. Spring is always a nightmare.Â
First and foremost, Sara is angry. She's fuming internally at any minor inconvenience and, should enough of them pile up - which isn't difficult as even a buzzing fly can find itself squashed to atoms by the Tengu - it will be released outside in socially acceptable forms, luckily. If it would be for the asceticism carved into her psyche at a young age, there would be many dead and many more injured come the end of this cursed time of year; there already are wounds amongst the training soldiers and herself due to how hard she hits during sparring, as well as how strongly she pushes herself to distract her mind and body from that overbearing desire - the craving to be a mother.Â
So what is her left brain tells her it's not time just yet, that her home is not suitable for children, that she hasn't planned early education, kindergarten, school? So what if she doesn't have any of the stuff necessary for a healthy pregnancy and hatchling care? Her right brain and her body want to be a mom. Right this instant. Now. So Sara goes through the motions to calm her uniquely female needs and remedy the turbulence breeding season causes. Spring is the season dedicated to eggs.Â
See, Sara lays eggs. Not much of a surprise, you might think - she's a Tengu after all. But did you know that her body also tirelessly produces them, no matter if she is expecting a child or not? It's a serious consideration when making plans or trips away from home - the process is painful and renders her weakened both before and after the event itself. Having an egg around also messes up her hormones in all sorts of ways. When, while young, she simply hid the eggs and sneakily threw them away, ashamed of what her body produced, she became increasingly miserable as time went on. She was restless, unfocused and simply⌠Lonely. Without an egg to care for, her mind told her she was meaningless, and she believed it, even if the reason took a few more years to occur to her. Eventually she worked out what makes her feel best.Â
Before anything is done around the house, the egg always comes first. While her ancient ancestors laid eggs only once in Spring when no mate was available, the modern human lifestyle kicks her body into overdrive - with stable shelter and an enormous amount of food available, all systems are online and working on batch after batch. It only got worse when she paired up with you⌠It's your fault, isn't it? How could be so lovely and kind and handsome that her body tells her you're daddy material?!Â
Egg gestation might be far shorter than human pregnancy, but the day or two before she gets the shells into the world are tough. Her stomach bloats painfully and walking, let alone running becomes tough. It's comparable to a bad burst of period cramps, getting more intense as the laying nears. She sits a lot during this period, but even still, Sara swears she can feel the eggs scraping against each other inside her. It happens on differing intervals throughout the year: the peak happens around Spring when she lays up to three eggs every week, slowing down to one batch per around two weeks in Summer, once per month in Autumn and, mercifully, none in Winter. This intense schedule of âpregnancyâ leaves her body constantly stretching to accommodate new eggs, leaving her with stretch marks all over her belly. While in Tengu society stretch marks are attractive as they signify a fit and fertile woman, Sara isn't convinced - she was raised amongst humans and finds them off-putting at least. Kiss them all over and make her feel better about them, mâkay?
Two days of hardship are crowned with a more difficult moment in the laying itself. It's when she is the most vulnerable and even scared, because laying eggs hurts. Badly. At first she'll be anxious and frowning at her natural spasms, which will quickly turn into panic when she realises it's time. During that moment Sara doesn't think straight and acts completely unlike herself which is why she always secluded herself when she was alone. Now, however, she will send for you or personally drag you to a safe space when you could comfort her through the process. It's a terrible scene each time, one that not even the hardest of fighting could reduce her to. Crying, screaming, desperate pleading for you to help, even if you can't do that much to ease her burden⌠The most you can do is hold her tightly and whisper encouragement, letting her clawed hands dig into you for dear life.Â
When at last the deed is done, Sara is left barely conscious from the immense strength it took her already weakened body to expel her eggs. The place of laying is also a horrid, dirty sight full of blood and other things, wholly better left undescribed. Only when you married did she agree to have staff help clean the place as you give her a bath and put her to bed - no matter the time of day, Sara needs to rest after the ordeal and be rested when the surgeon arrives to look her over for damage. Each egg is about five kilograms in weight and the size of a Temari ball, so no wonder sheâs this spent. Luckily, sheâll recover within just two days, three at most. How brave she must have been, to go through it alone for the years before you met her⌠Sara is strong in all aspects of life, it seems.Â
The first actual step is always nesting - not coincidentally, it was also one of the first signs she liked you as more than a friend, even if she would bashfully leave that without comment. It's simply her brain telling her that the time and environment is right and to prepare for the coming of chicks into her life. Sara tends to unconsciously gather blankets, pillows and small, shiny decorations around the bedroom, crow genes still alive and kicking thousands of generations later. If asked why, she'll usually dismiss it with a lame excuse, even if both of you know the truth. She's just a little⌠Shy, for her body causing all this commotion. Please kiss your beautiful bird girlfriend and tell her you don't mind her being a hen and doing what nature wants her to do⌠If anything, isn't it endearing? Despite her tough exterior, she's setting up to be a professional bird momma.Â
The most attention goes to the proper nest - a small, deep pillow looking like some sort of dog bed, settled in the warmest corner of the room on a dedicated table. When the eggs arrive, they stay there most of the time, bundled in blankets to keep them warm. If you want to make Sara both blush and smile, take an active role in that ritual - wash the pillowcases and change the bedding daily and Sara will feel warm and taken care of.Â
At least three times daily - morning, midday and evening - Sara visits her eggs to brood. Even if they will never hatch, her mood improves significantly, especially in the peak of Spring. All in all, the experience is not that unlike a nap or a short meditation session, lasting usually up to half an hour. Nature hasnât equipped her with a body light enough to sit on them, so she has to get a bit creative. The eggs usually end up under her breasts or between her thighs, Sara being tightly wrapped in blankets to keep the heat in. Sometimes, when sheâs especially hormonal, her wings pop out on their own and fold protectively around her body, adding an additional layer over her. Unfortunately, you canât really give her a hand here; Sara incubates the eggs primarily for herself, to rest and calm her senses. Even when the little ones finally arrive in their calcium packages, your wife wonât let you replace her for long. Being a mother is an experience unlike any other, one that she really wants to go through as tradition dictates - but donât think youâll be left twiddling your thumbs! The Tengu General needs lots of snacks and tasty food to keep her strength up, so get out there and bring some quarry for your bird!
But what happens with the eggs if they donât carry life? Sara did some research, also curious about it - she shouldnât sit on them until they rot and explode, after all - and found a tradition passed from mother to daughter amongst the Tengu, but one that wasnât taught to he for obvious reasons; she was just too young to learn this when she was found and adopted by the Kujou Clan. It constitutes a purpose for each of the three eggs she may lay. The first egg is always reserved for the mother, to be near and incubate for management of her mental and physical health. It can only be feasibly held for a week before it starts to go bad, yet the short period is still intensely useful in Sara's hormonal regulation.Â
The second egg is to be shared between the mother and her partner, if one is present. Sara found the idea repulsive at first - the closest thing her mind could compare this to would be humans eating their stillborn children, a horrifying image to be sure. But as she gave it more thought, her stance changed in favour of the act. These eggs were never alive, being almost the exact same as chicken eggs. And, with how big they are, they can be a great solution to the dinner question. Traditionally, it's the egg's layer that prepares it and presents the meal to her partner, as a sort of declaration of love. It's strange, but also surprisingly romantic, always making Sara at least a tiny bit flustered. All that doesn't mean she goes about telling people she engages in this!
The third egg is to be hard boiled and fed to the local wildlife - crows and other birds, ideally, but other critters will do. It's a simple ritual meant to show gratitude to the world by sharing the boobs of her body, in thanks for granting the Tengu woman the ability to create life.Â
But what about when the time comes? What does she do then?Â
To Sara, there isn't really a good moment for having children. There's always so much to do around Inazuma that having to sink thousands of hours into taking care of babies seems like a laughable prospect. She held that belief for all her life until the war between Narukami and Watatsumi. The losses and wounds accumulated throughout its course made for a stark reminder of her mortality. If she were to die, what would be left to remind the world of her existence?Â
Nothing.Â
That's the answer. She served the Shogun with all her might for as long as she lived, but Sara would be condemned to oblivion within five, ten years. All her work would be rendered meaningless in that amount of time, like a garden overgrown, leaving no trace or previous care. She would probably even be forgotten by the Archon of Inazuma, truth be told. She is but a short-lived mortal, a simple mayfly in comparison to Ei. That train of thought unsettled her deeply, but also stoked in her the flame of motherhood. She wanted to leave something behind, have someone carry on her memory. Someone to, at least, leave flowers on her graveâŚ
Despite this, Sara remained stuck on the question of timing for a long while. When was the right moment? Obviously, it was when all long-term goals were completed and she could, at last, focus her attention inward; this was proven impossible as new orders and plans continued to come in as soon as previous ones were completed. Management of a military really is an endless pursuit, isn't it⌠Sara would always promise you that she would think about it when she got this done, but when she did, she would promise to try for children after she completed that, and so on and so forth for monthsâŚ
It's not clear how exactly your general desire for an heir got out, but the fact is it made its way down the grapevine and into the ever-vigilant ear of Yae Miko. Teasing was, of course, administered at every convenience to you both, however it wasn't the most important effect of the news breaking. Miko was a bit nosy, and irritating, and arrogant and maybe insensitive, yes, but she was also oddly caring in her strange ways. Being the chief advisor of Ei, she managed to convince her friend to give Sara a well-deserved âattic kickâ - the transfer to a calm and ultimately not that crucial position. Thus Kujou Sara was tasked with training new recruits for the foreseeable future, and then some. It was a stable and quite static job, involving mostly moving around paperwork and reviewing data.Â
How Sara felt about this? Well, she wasn't that troubled since the information was passed onto her directly by Ei in the divine flesh; being a woman of faith and belief in the infallibility of her goddess, she accepted this task humbly. If anything, Sara thought, it would be very beneficial for your relationship as she could at last devote more time to you.Â
She didn't catch onto why Ei wished her âand her familyâ a happy life. Not for a while at least.Â
As soon as all matters were put into order and Sara transferred into her not-retirement, she turned her attention back to you. Suffice to say that night jet-black feathers were all over the bedroom.Â
The results were in within a month. After the tiresome ordeal that was bringing the eggs into the world, you and Sara got to finally look at the clutch of six perfectly white little balls. It would be long now: maybe three months of keeping them warm and the chicks would finally see the light of dayâŚ
Wait.Â
How many again? One, two, three, four, five, six! Six eggs, in each a child! A child that needs food, attention, a room, toys and clothes and a school and a bottle and- What are you going to do with that horde?! She physically can't even feed them all at once! And where are you going to house them in the first place?
After telling Sara to take a few deep breaths, you've looked around for solutions and quickly found that her quite minimalistic lifestyle amounted to a huge pool of savings to draw from. It only took hitting up a few connections of hers to get a deal on a mansion reserved for government servants, fitted with a large garden, three floors and a total of eleven rooms to fill out. Despite not being a fan of large spending and large living, Sara was proud at how the house turned out, more so because she likely founded the seat of her newly formed line. She could already hear the pitter-patter of little footsteps throughout the hallsâŚ
Being a simple-hearted woman, Sara has no specific wishes for the genders of her children. Whatever gift her Archon blesses you with, she will humbly accept and raise her offspring as best as she could. It would be nice to have a balance of boys and girls, just to make it even.Â
Hatching doesn't take long, but it's still a process requiring constant attention. Your children spend most of the time bundled up in blankets with Pyro crystals heating up the nest from below whenever neither of you were present - not enough to cook them, obviously, but enough to keep the little ones warm. Sara was the one spending her time with the eggs the most - she was obliged to by tradition, she argued. It wasn't very comfy and there wasn't much to do besides read or nap on the armchair; the choice of furniture was crucial - she wouldn't want to crush them by accident. You were there too when time allowed. Your body might not be as soft, voluptuous and cozy as Sara's, but it was warm. Definitely an unusual experience, but not an entirely unwelcome one.Â
As time of hatching drew close, the eggs required constant attention. Baby Tengu weren't equipped with breaks to break out of shells, and tiny little soft hands weren't much help either, meaning that as soon as the eggs were moving, one of you had to help the little ones get out. Watching them was a full-time affair done interchangeably by you and your feathered wife, more and more eager and restless to finally see life within them. You looked closely and attentively; Sara talked to her chicks, whispering sweet encouragement, giving them strength and spirit to stir to life and break into the wide world to meet their parents.Â
The moment arrived when Sara, bags under her eyes, was tossing and turning in bed, trying to get some sleep before her next shift of egg watching. Noticing movement in all six eggs, you called out to her - she was there in a flash. After the spoon went in for a few delicate strikes against the shell, your fingers gently priced over the pieces to reveal a son. Complete with a few strands of deep-blue hair and two, perfectly golden, white eyes, he looked around in confusion and awe at the newly revealed world, clumsy, fat hands grabbing at the shell or just air around him. A marvelous moment, radiant enough to bring tears to the eyes of the Tengu General. At last, her child. Her little one. Her cute, naked chicken. Her tiny bundle of joy. Her primogeniture. Her greatest achievement. Your shared work of art, a co-crafted miracle of nature. Her new purpose. Soon, his three brothers and two sisters followed.Â
The momentâs immense magic was not spoiled by the cacophony of cries that erupted within minutes. Sara correctly expected this to be just a small demo of the domino effect..Â
Name ideas were written down well before the eggs were laid - Sara is meticulous and diligent, after all. Her daughters were named Yuki and Rina, while her sons bore the names Takeshi, Kenji, Hayato and, in compulsory honour of the Raiden Shogun, Raito. Thereâs an expected bias in meaning there, but it's true to Sara's character.
Early years were the most difficult - she never was much of a domestic woman, rather one of action, so motherly duties are a completely new challenge for her. Especially since she doesn't have to care for a casual one or two children, but an entire legion of six. Juggling them (metaphorically!) is a lot even for two people, so better get ready for the toughest job in your life. At least they can't fly yet. Their wings start out as little bare nubs on their backs, growing to something akin to chicken wings in the span of three years. They're cute and very funny, but don't laugh, else you get a solid smack from Sara. No pictures either, you hear? To her they are just⌠Private, that's all.Â
In honesty it's because, when she was young, many of her human caretakers would ridicule her âdisgusting growthsâ. She doesn't want that to happen to her children. She's super careful about it, so be calm and give her lots of comfort. Heh, as if anyone would dare mock the General's childrenâŚ
Mixed origin results in the children being born from eggs, but also being fed with mother's milk. Awkward, biologically puzzling, but that's for the Sumeru scholars to tackle. Sara is there to give the children everything she can, but that too is a tall order at times. With six growing mouths to feed, her body is being constantly strip-mined (strip-sucked?) for all it is worth, even with her biology more suited for this kind of insane production. And the children need to feed about eight times a day too! It's no wonder Tengu women were always provided for during those first six months⌠Sara would think this kind of experience âleisurelyâ, but it's more exhausting than the most restrictive schedules she could self-impose. Being a mother is the hardest battle she ever fought.Â
The kids started to learn new words and walk around around the same age their six wings started growing. Since their needs were being handled by two parents working in strict cooperation, both âmamaâ and âchichiâ quickly filled up the house in tandem. Cute and adventurous little things they were, constantly trying to break out of the house or simply perching on high surfaces, much to your horror. Tengu were a bit more fragile than humans, so bruises and even spraining happened. Everything that wasn't bolted down or two heavy for the kids to pick up inevitably changed place, was broken or outright vanished into thin air, only to reappear amidst chaos in the future. It was a grueling task, keeping up with them, but it wasn't without its boons; learning was significantly faster thanks to the abundance of peers. If Rina learned one word, then it was just a matter of time before all six were tweeting it up to the heavens. Sometimes they even self-policed themselves, usually the girls correcting the increasingly rowdy and rebellious boys.Â
Before getting into a relationship, Sara always thought she would bring military discipline into the home and raise her tweeters to be prim and proper young Tengu, brought up with rules as strict as hers back in the day. But, in contemporary times, wrung out like a cheesecloth, Sara couldn't hope to discipline all six of them to that extent. Besides, they are just too cute! Have you seen their little wings flapping around when they're feeling playful? And, Archon forbid, dropping when they feel sad? It's too much for her heart! She couldn't help but keep them happy! Of course, within certain limits. If they mess up badly, she's going to discipline them - maybe not with physical punishments like she was (those bastardsâŚ), but her stern words are enough to strike the fear of Celestia into the hearts of your kids. You're definitely the fun parent here.
As time goes on, things become easier in the physical sense, but more troublesome emotionally. At least her hormonal cycles are gone, maybe they won't return after the kids mature and take off towards their own lives. Regardless, Tengu are freedom loving and adventurous by nature, making it difficult for them to adjust to human society and its rigid standards. How to explain borders to children that can fly anywhere they want, at any time? You two won't suffice: it will have to be a mix of peer reinforcement and experience that teaches them responsibility.Â
And safety, most of all. Sara prays to Raiden Shogun for their safety above all else. Never before has she empathised so much with the mothers whose sons went out to war. How could she bear it? To see her own sent to certain death, after all the memories she made with them? After she held them in her arms for years, warding off every threat? In a surprising turn of beliefs, Sara began seeing her work as purposeful in the sense of preventing war rather than winning it for the glory of the Shogun. That being the case, she does not push her sons towards the army and outright prohibits enlistment until they are of age and do not need her agreement, all human tradition be damned. However⌠If they truly desire to be like her, strong and commanding, she won't push them back. Sara too was ambitious and driven, arrogantly at times, so she knows how it feels to crave glory like your forefathers. Her heart will tremble with worry, but she will train them. She will train them hard. She will train every muscle to perform at its absolute best, she will train their sword-arms well so that no harm will ever befall them. And if they still return to her in a casket, sheâŚÂ
No. Sara doesn't want to think about that. She will deal with it when the time comes, but not a moment earlier.Â
As for the girls, the world you live in is a terrifying and supremely dangerous place, often lacking the space for beauty. They must be ready to face the world just like their brothers. Despite that, Sara wants to give them what she never had - the opportunity to just⌠Be girls. To spend their days in the sun, laughing and reading novels instead of crawling through mud and bandaging their wounds on the training grounds. The life of an air-headed, irresponsible and emotional teen was something she read about only in books, yet still something she longed for, even well into her adulthood. It was not in the cards for her, but it was for her daughters. If they go in this direction, she will let them grow - safe and sheltered from grueling hardship, humiliation and prison-like rules of her home. Sara will be thrilled to experience their highs and lows, their crushes and heartbreaks, their joys and their sorrows with them up to their full adulthood, happy to see them being free to be feminine, with no consideration for strength and stoicism.Â
Sara looks into the future with worry, but also pride. The same kind of tearful pride she felt when her children learned to fly and, despite her confused protests, lifted their mother into the air, letting her once again see the skies as if the incident with Alice never happened. But instead of sorrow at her crippling, irreversible injury, she felt proud. Proud and happy that she got the chance to raise them, see them grow and be lifted up into the sky by them.Â
It was the only time in her life she cried shamelessly.Â
I'd like to request please! Welt and ratio with a reader who stares at them with these sappy, lovestruck eyes while they're in the middle of explaining something. Then they stop and see them stare that way, and they're like "why are you looking at me like that?" to which the reader, still with heart in their eyes, replies "like what?" Anyways I love your writing so muchhh mwah mwah đĽ´đĽ´đŤśđŤś
âDon't look at me with those eyesâ
Tags: Welt x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Fluff, Slightly Suggestive (but not explicit), Admiration, Affection, Romantic Tension, Heartwarming Moments, Slow burn (Implied).
Welt stood before the crew, carefully explaining the mechanics of gravity manipulation, his cane resting by his side. His voice was steady, composed, carrying with it the wisdom of a lifetime spent on Earthâs frontlines. The crew listened attentively, but youâwell, you had your eyes on him, more specifically on his gentle expression, the way his fingers caressed the cane with ease, and the slight glint in his eyes as he spoke of his experiences. You couldnât help but admire the quiet strength he exuded, the balance he had found between being a protector and a teacher.
As he continued, you leaned against the table, your gaze unwavering, the world around you seeming to melt away in the warmth of his presence. He paused mid-sentence, his eyes catching yours. The air shifted, a moment of silence stretching between you both. Welt's brow furrowed slightly, a bemused smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
âWhy are you looking at me like that?â he asked, his voice dipping into that dry, amused tone he often took when he caught you in a moment of soft vulnerability.
You blinked, suddenly realizing youâd been staring at him with an almost embarrassing intensity. Flustered, you tried to act casual, but the words that came out of your mouth only made the moment more obvious.
âLike what?â you asked, your voice soft, eyes still sparkling with affection. You tried to suppress the fond smile that threatened to spread across your face but failed miserably.
Welt chuckled softly, a quiet rumble that reverberated in his chest. "You know exactly what I mean," he replied, stepping closer with that steady, graceful stride of his. "You're acting like I just gave you the key to the universe."
You shrugged, your heart beating a little faster, but you didnât look away. "Maybe you did."
Welt's smile softened. He had seen the way you looked at him before, and though he wasn't one to show his vulnerability easily, there was something about your gaze that made him feel less burdened by the weight of the world he once carried. It felt lighter, shared, and for the first time in a long while, he didnât mind being looked at that way.
"Youâre hopeless," he said fondly, though the warmth in his tone was unmistakable.
The rest of the crew was too busy with their own discussions to notice, but for you and Welt, the universe had just shrunk into a small, quiet moment, one that held more meaning than anything he could have taught with gravity.
Ratio was mid-sentence, passionately explaining the intricacies of a new theory on intergalactic education reform when he caught you staring. Your gaze was intense, filled with admiration as you looked at him with wide, lovestruck eyes. He paused, mid-lecture, eyes narrowing slightly as he observed your expression. His wavy hair framed his face, and his ever-present confidence faltered just for a moment as he tried to make sense of your gaze.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ratio's tone was sharp, his voice tinged with the slightest hint of confusion and annoyanceâthough there was something in his eyes that betrayed his interest.
You blinked, startled by the sudden shift in his attention. Your heart fluttered, but you couldnât pull your gaze away from his vibrant eyes. âLike what?â you replied sweetly, your voice full of innocent curiosity, though your heart was racing.
He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. "Like youâre some lovesick fool. Iâm in the middle of explaining a groundbreaking concept, and youâre gazing at me like Iâm some kind of academic geniusâoh wait, I am a genius."
You giggled softly, still not breaking your gaze. âMaybe Iâm just admiring the genius, then,â you teased, the playful tone of your voice laced with sincerity. âYouâre not exactly easy to look away from, you know.â
Ratio blinked, his confident posture faltering as a slight blush crept to his cheeks. He was not accustomed to being on the receiving end of such genuine admiration, especially not for something so personal as his appearance or presence. Usually, his brilliance overshadowed everything else. But this? This was something new.
âYouââ He stopped himself, shaking his head, clearly flustered, though he would never admit it. âYouâre incorrigible. Focus on the topic at hand, would you?â
You only smiled brighter, knowing full well that while Ratio might try to hide it, your gaze made him feel something more than the detached intellectual he often portrayed. Maybe, just maybe, he liked being admired for more than just his intellect.
"Fine," you said with a shrug, "but Iâm just saying, you look pretty good while explaining things. Iâll try to focus on the theory⌠but no promises."
Ratio sighed, a small smile curling at the corners of his lips. âYouâre impossible,â he muttered, though his eyes softened as he looked at you, the quiet affection in his gaze betraying the outward dismissive tone.
And though the conversation shifted back to cosmic education and intergalactic studies, both of you knew that this small, unexpected moment was far more significant than anything that could be taught in a lecture.
OHHH THIS ONE TOO!! LOOK AT THAT TWO OF MY FAVORITE SMART, DIGNIFIED, AND COMPOSED MEN IN HSR â(ďžâăŽâ)ďžâ ââ â§
I love these two men so much and not just carnally or in a feral-bark-woof-grr type. But the let-me-make-you-your-morning-coffee way, and also the let's-read-together-even-tho-idk-anything-written-here way. These two deserve the world for all that they've done for the universe. The banter between welt is so well done. I don't see much welt x reader content so I might not be familiar with the way he's typically portrayed in fics but his wittiness becoming overpowered by his fondness for us *sighs dreamily*
This is the most tender feral love Iâve ever seen lmao đ Your love for them is so soft and real, like yesâcoffee in the morning, reading side by side, quiet companionship with the weight of galaxies behind it?? You get them. Grandpa would be flustered but secretly glowing. <33
I fleshed out more of the Chromatican Legends! Iâll start out with the one I like the most.
âDestructionâs Ruinâ. As I said before he is an ancient and powerful black Chromatican, but his hatred of the Destruction and its lot happened because there was a civilization one the verge of collapse, it would have only taken a few decades or a century tops for it to fall. And he couldnât wait, a grin upon his face grew and grew as the days past. For this civilization was also ancient, it survived hundreds of thousands of years and it was finally, FINALLY about to fall. It would be his greatest boast yet. But things didnât go to plan. A Lord Ravager arrived, stomping on the dying ember that was the now pathetic excuse of a civilization, and this royally pissed off the Chromatican. He quickly got involved attacking the Ravager. âIt was going to be so sweet to watch the civilization die and this upstart ruined it!â But Chromaticanâs can be petty, and cruel. So it wouldnât kill the Ravager. No, that was too much of a mercy for it. He dragged it back to their giant ships, the size of entire worlds and kept it there. For him to torment and torture but never to kill. If he couldnât get to watch that civilization die, he will keep this ânew toyâ alive to watch it die. âDestructionâs Ruinâ is a cruel, vengeful and sadistic Chromatican one with a major hatred for the Destruction and wish to see it destroyed so it couldnât ruin its fun anymore. Very simple I like to think.
âCloak and Daggerâ. These are actually two different Chromaticanâs a younger brother and an older sister. Both are actually well known but are manipulators to a T. They use agents, sleeper cells and foolish sapients to slip in societyâs. It isnât unheard of for an entire planets governments to be under the direct influence of these siblings. They seek to understand and know everyoneâs business, it is said there is no secret in the entire universe that they donât know of, and many interstellar organizations have to do weekly checks for any spies or agents (though these mostly fail). Though despite their espionage they funnily enough hate the Enigmata above all, and will constantly hunt and kill any History fictionologist. The brother is a blue Chromatican and the sister Green. Or is the opposite? No one knows for sure, no one ever got a clean look at em.
âMask Breaker.â A bitter white Chromatican, whose upbringing was awful, his Home-ship got bombed by Masked Fools and while it didnât destroy it, his parents and brotherâs died. Ever since that day he hated them. It didnât matter whether or not most Foolâs didnât participate in it, they would all pay dearly. Any sign of a masked fool and he was on their trail, never stopping to rest or eat. He would hunt until they are found and turned into a frozen ice sculpture by his icy breath. To die alone and cold and scared. He doesnât just want them to die, he wants them to die miserable, to take away the very Elation out of them, the Elation that destroyed his family. Any and all masks that he recovers are broken and frozen, to keep as a miserable trophy and to tally his kills. I know he sounds edgy, but Iâm not the greatest writer so this is my best attempt for a âdarkâ character for now. Apologies, Iâll get better I promise.
âThe Hoarder of Memories.â Gems and other such wealth wasnât enough for this purple Chromatican. She wanted something more precious. Something that was almost unique to all life, oneâs point of view. In order to get this she realized she needed memories. But she was admittedly a tad lazy (though she would never admit this out loud.â That is, until one day she felt an odd probing sensation, going into a room full of her motherâs artifacts, one went off, revealing and immobilizing a Memokeeper. Of course an intruder such a this was I welcomed in her glorious domain so she âateâ it, of course this didnât work so she had to use her magic to absorb the entity instead, and thatâs when she got all the memoryâs that Memokeeper had, and she got addicted, now she travels the universe, looking for more Memokeeperâs to absorb and steal from. Every time she absorbs one, a sort of glass ball appears each one a memory of an individual, and she had so much that she brought a country size ship to store all of it, and rumors say that she seeks to absorb Fuli THEMSELF.
So yea. Hereâs four legends, a bit more in depth with two new ones. If you had any suggestionâs or ideaâs I would love to hear it, since you put up with my wacky ideas.
PUT UP WITHâ? Bestie, I am thriving on your Chromatican brainrot. Youâre out here casually dropping full mythologies with vibes that are equal parts cosmic horror, epic fantasy, and character drama, and you expect me to not be foaming at the mouth?? Please. Iâm obsessed.
"Destruction's Ruin" â This guy is so petty and I love him for it. Like, imagine being so dedicated to watching a civilization fall that when someone interrupts your apocalypse viewing party, you get personally offended to the point of eternal imprisonment and torment. Thatâs not even villain behaviorâthatâs divine-level drama. Heâs the type to sigh disappointedly every time Destruction is mentioned in a meeting. âOh, them again.â
"Cloak and Dagger" â The fact that no one even knows which sibling is which color?? That's terrifying in the best way. The way their influence just seeps into governments like itâs Tuesday, and yet theyâre both personally hunting down Enigmata like it's their full-time hobby?? The vibes are immaculate. Theyâre like an unholy mix of X-Files conspiracy, spy thriller, and cosmic chess masters. I adore them.
"Mask Breaker" â Stop apologizing for writing a "dark" character, because this one has layers. Youâre not writing edge for the sake of it; youâve given him a clear origin, trauma, and a goal that makes sense. His pain radiates through the frost he wields. And that poetic detailâturning masks into frozen sculptures?? Thatâs cinematic as hell. Heâs not just hunting; heâs grieving. And that hits.
"The Hoarder of Memories" â This one sent shivers down my spine. First of all, the aesthetic of memory orbs in a country-sized ship is so powerful. Sheâs lazy but horrifyingly effective, and her obsession with point-of-view and experience is so deliciously twisted. Like, âyouâre not even important, I just want what you saw.â And the idea that she might go after Fuli?? Thatâs peak ambition. Give her a throne made of bottled perspectives. I want a whole arc about her.
Seriously, I think youâve got something really special going here. Youâve got the bones and the flavor.
(Also I think Destructionâs Ruin and Mask Breaker need a buddy-cop arc. No, I will not elaborate.)
Equals: Chapter III - Kitsune!Male!Reader x Yae Miko
A/N: Finally, eh? I didn't expect this idea to get so popular. This one got quite chonky, 4.5k words, so I decided to post it early and just split things up. This way, you get content early and I get something to look forward to. As for making Reader an actual character, I decided that I will give him the name Fractal when I post it to AO3. Anyway, do enjoy!
CW: Light violence, mentions of body modification, mentions of suicide. It's just the aperitif.
Respected Yumemizuki Mizuki,
It has been a while since our last outing, and I cannot help but wonder if you hold a grudge for that jovial bit of teasing regarding the recent customer crisis of your bathhouse. I can only assure you I meant no harm, and pray most piously to the Sacred Sakura for your forgiveness. It was my intention all along to motivate you out of your, do not take offence, rather pathetic state of defeatism. Judging by how the issue was resolved, it seems that my ploy found significant success. Wouldnât you agree?
Regardless, there is a matter of great importance that happens to require our attention. I am sure the situation regarding a certain destructive white fox has reached your adorable, pointy ears - it is indeed the topic of this letter. You may remember that he was rescued quite recently from the open ocean, but until yesterday, he was rather docile in terms of behavior. His sudden outburst worries me greatly; dark bags under his eyes, seemingly relentless night terrors and his words all lead me to the conclusion that his unprecedented episode of mania is related to his dreams. I will share more details at my home - feel free to visit me at your earliest convenience. Haste would be appreciated as the sedatives will wear off in about a day or so; I believe the opportunity to examine him without resistance will significantly speed up our work.Â
If you indeed hold a grudge towards me, I ask you to do it for him, not for me.
Awaiting your visit,Â
The Beloved, Beautiful and Powerful Kitsune Guuji of the Narukami Shrine
Yae Miko
That morning, with the warm sun shining down on her, Mizuki was greeted with the sight of soldiers as she approached the Yae estate. The walls around Miko's home towered high but, clearly, proved inefficient at stopping one of her kind. Even if in her heart Mizuki doubted that humans, further slowed by armour, could stop a fox, she acknowledged the reasoning.Â
The standing officer nodded as she went past him and further into the courtyard towards the Tengu General, exchanging words with her subordinates. Mizuki stepped up, attracting Sara's attention.Â
âGreetings, Yumemizuki Mizuki.â She bows formally, a gesture returned by the newcomer.Â
âGood afternoon, general-sama.âÂ
The soldier bows deeply and walks away, leaving the two women alone. Sara glances towards the building and sighs.Â
âI assume you are here for Y/N? He made a lot of hassle, I'm sure you've heard.â The Tengu crosses her arms. âHe sneaked between the house staff and left shamelessly through the front gate in his fox form.â
Mizuki nods. âI see. I wonder, if I may⌠Isn't it too trivial of an incident for you to get personally involved?â
âNot at all. After all, the fox escaped because of the incompetence of Tenryu guards. It's no insignificant matter as the escapee was a kitsune. As you know, they are highly dangerous.â
The doctor frowns. Wasn't Y/N supposed to be docile? From Miko's previous descriptions he sounded more like a traumatised child than a violent one.Â
âWas anybody hurt, general?â She asks, looking around for any bandaged or limping soldiers.Â
âHm. Well⌠Sort of.â Sara clears her throat. âDuring his extraction from a cave by the beach, two officers tried to take him in by force. Y/N resisted, scratching and biting.â
Sara turns and waves a duo of soldiers closer. âSee, despite what Yae Miko told me, not only did they escape with their lives, but also with little to no harm done to them. Show her.â
One of the soldiers passes his spear to the other and, saluting his superior, wraps up his sleeve to reveal⌠Nothing on his left forearm. Mizuki takes his arm and moves her face closer. There are no obvious marks - no blood, no scars, not even redness of the skin. Eventually, her sharp eyes spot two barely noticeable dents. She runs her fingers over them. It's almost as if this wasn't a bite, but a simple poke with two fingers.Â
âThat's⌠Strange.â She mumbles to herself, seeking out more of these bite marks. There are very few, as if the kitsune was playing, not seriously intending to defend himself. âDid he attack you anywhere else?â
âMhm. Here, on my face.â
Indeed - Mizukiâs eyes quickly found multiple bruises and red lines across the man's right cheek. Again, however, these didn't seem like an honest attempt at doing harm, even superficial. The markings clearly signaled the fox's hands to be the weapon, but he must have had his nails trimmed so significantly that they lost any hardness in them. Was that even possible?Â
Mizuki nods. âThank you, soldiers, general. Is Lady Miko home?â
âShe is, waiting for you and keeping an eye on the Yokai. Go in, we shan't keep you here any longer.â
After a brief exchange or parting pleasantries, the women part ways. Mizuki skips up the stairs and places a few polite knocks on the door. Almost instantly it opens, revealing Miko's exhausted, but smiling face. Without a word she moves to the side and motions towards the houseâs depths, inviting her guest in. Mizuki enters.Â
âWhat's the situation? How does he feel?â She asks, looking around to guess where Miko is leading her.Â
âAsleepâ, comes the answer. âThe Naku Weed brew will keep him like this for the next three, maybe four hours. We can work in peace.â
Mizuki lifts her perfectly groomed brow. âIsn't that poisonous?â
âHeh. Not at all, for us kitsune at least. This kind of dose would do irreparable damage to the nervous system of most yokai and humans, but our race is more protected against it.â Miko explains, pressing the knob and pushing open the door to your room. âNo need to be quiet, he's out.â
Her eyes land on your unconscious body, your back turned on her. The long, grizzly scars carved into your body assault her eyes. Some are new, staring back at her with recently scabbed crimson, but some seem old - so old that their only remnant is a colourless, white line left on uneven skin. Snow-white bandages snake around your torso, some stained with dark, red blood. There are many scratches and sickly-purple bruises across your arms and torso, likely there from your mad dash of an escape. In places untouched by harm, your skin is clean, pristine, so soft that just looking at it feels like caressing velvet. The hair in your head, as white as the bandages, seems to grow messily around two pointy, fox ears, only barely relaxed due to your state.Â
âHe went through much trouble, I can tell.â Mizuki sits down on one of the chairs facing the bed. âWho is he? A warrior?â
Miko looks down on her hands, tone nonchalant. âHardly. I'd say that the term⌠Slave⌠Would be more descriptive of his life.â
âS-slaveâŚ? Yours?â There is surprise, but also worry in the bakuâs voice. After all, the wretched act of taking away another's freedom was prohibited for centuries, ever since Makoto came to power. The thought of Miko enslaving one of her kinâŚ
âNot at all. I should feel insulted by the mere notion that I would stoop so low as to chain another, but I'm willing to forgive your ignorance.â Miko's gaze hardens as she looks at her friend. âYou don't seem to know the basics of our history.â
âThen, please, enlighten me.â
Miko crosses her arms. âInazuma was always welcoming towards Yokai, was it not? No matter the age, all of us could find shelter here. Baku, kappa, oni, tengu⌠Even malicious spirits like umibozu or ningen were left to their devices, provided they did no harm. But to this rule there was an exception. Us, kitsune.â
A sigh escapes her lips. âBefore humans settled here, Inazuma was primarily a mess of city-states belonging to Yokai species, constantly warring for influence and territory. Kitsune were, of course, major players. Even a single fox could strike down tens of oni or swat even the most nimble of tengu from the sky. Our power was grand, but so was our thirst for conquest. My kind would have long conquered this land if it weren't for a major burden nature left us with. Kitsune mature slowly, so slowly that replenishing losses took centuries, millennia even. Every war was a blow to our population. Vixen like me bring litters into the world, counting up to seven kits true, but we can't reproduce at will - starvation would quickly set upon us. We knew we were a dwindling race, but we didn't bother changing our disposition.â
The Guuji stands up, starting to walk up and down the room at an even pace as she recounts. âWe accumulated hate, curses, hexes. We drowned in evil, but we made light of various nithings and omens. Most of those bad charms were able to be nullified, but the more we turned against our kind, the more powerful our next opponents became. Until one fateful curse befell us.â
Mizuki stays silent, a part of her surprised at Miko's voice growing ever more silent. The next words are spoken with great care, as if to avoid insulting whatever being cast that spell.Â
âMay your daughters forever weep, for your unborn sons and brothers shall repent for your crimes and writhe in agony within the world below. Plague shall befall your fathers and husbands and brothers and sons until only the ninth remains standing, able to raise his arm in the name of evil.â Miko says, staring out the window. âThese words, clear of any hatred towards its foxian killers, were spoken by a dying kirin.â She turns, a somber expression on her face. âIndeed, it is as you think. We, kitsune, murdered a kirin. And we were punished for it.â
You stirr in your drug-induced sleep. Miko quickly comes to your side as you turn on your back. She places a hand on your pale, scarred breast.Â
âThat day every male was brought to his knees by an illness unlike we saw before. It acted fast, so fast that most weren't able to even go home, let alone get help. Choking to death on their own blood, clutching their throats with veiny, purple hands, they fell and died on the street, corpses soon littering every corner. They died in agony and panic, no matter who they were - a soldier, a hunter, a doctor, a farmer⌠All paid for something our entire race was responsible for. Not even children were spared⌠They⌠Died the quickest. Newborns died in their cribs while infants spasmed in their mother's wombs. As it said - the majority of our dogs died, leaving the nationâs vixens in maddening grief. Only one in nine males survived, and each was only decades old⌠Far too young to hold a spear.â
She continues, stroking your hair. âIn a matter of years our society plummeted into disarray. From the lack of engineers to keep our cities whole to a dreadful absence of warriors to fend off other, vengeful races. A male birth was an event so grand that entire towns came to greet the kit. We crumbled into dust, gradually pushed back to the brink of extinction, saved only by the coming of Makoto who chose to enforce peace between the Yokai.â
Her hands roam around to yours, her index finger stroking the bruises and scratches around your wrists. âDogs became previous. They had to be protected, at all costs. We kept them inside, we monitored their every step, rushed to their side with medicine at the smallest cough. Their extinction meant our end - we couldn't allow that. Us vixen took it to heart so much that, over the centuries, males went from priceless treasure to slaves. To goods, like gold or the purest jewels. They were trained from birth to obey, forced into a rigorous training regiment to remain healthy and appealing to their owners, and sold when the time came - for Mora or political favours. Some vixens treated their dogs well, while some enjoyed torturing them for their sick entertainment; but no matter the personal preference, we sent them a clear message - they weren't people.â
Both women remain silent; Mizuki takes in her friend's words while Miko grips your wrists gently, clenching her teeth. For what they did to you, they deserved to be treated likewise. They deserved to be fed from a bowl, to be fed raw meat, to be assaulted whenever their captors wished. To have their clothes, their children, their dignity, their foxhood stripped away.Â
âThey deserve to be treated like animals. For what they did.â She hisses through her teeth, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. Helplessness.Â
âHm?â Mizuki shakes her head out of deep thought and asks.Â
âNevermind.â Milo sighs. âThere is a reason, Mizuki, that even the benevolent and kind Makoto could not bare to see what we were doing to them. She ordered our race to cease our barbarity or be gone from this land. The answer to what happened next should be obvious - most of us, noblewomen and mistresses with their entourages, families, entire clans even, left. Some of us stayed. I was, for example, abandoned at just three years of age during the exodus. Those that remained took me in, raised me to be who I am today. Our matron Hakushin was one of the fair few who did not choose to participate in this cruelty and tried to fight back when we were exiled, to wrench at least one male from the claws of her kin. Kitsune Guuji chose to live a childless life of chastity in the name of those crushes in our claws. And she failed.â
âI see. I'm⌠I can't even imagine what he went through. How old is he?â The baku asks.Â
âSix hundred years old. Can you picture that? Six centuries of slavery, torture, rape. Six centuries of being fed like a canine, kicked away or being forced upon. Six centuries⌠Tens of litters, either pried from your hands or never allowed to be there in the first place. A living nightmare. A hell that, for him, was reality.â She raises up and turns back towards Mizuki. âAs for what he'd been through, we shall see.â
The woman freezes. What? Surely, Miko wouldn't be willing to metaphorically crowbar his mind open and see insideâŚ
âOh my, I can tell what's going on inside your head, Mizuki. Are you perhaps thinking I would violate his privacy without proper cause?â Miko turns, her gloomy expression now replaced with a light smirk. âWhoever do you take me for?â
Mizuki stands up and crosses her arms. âSure, sure. I know you have a reason, but we'll see if it's convincing enough. I never force myself into any mind, and I wouldn't make an exception for you.â
âI understand. Let me tell you, then, why this course of action is not only the best, but also the necessary one. I doubt you understand the true scale of his mind's corruption. If things were, indeed, less severe, I would have just waited for him to rest and taken him to the bath house.â
Miko leans over you and places a hand over your forehead, checking the temperature. It's normal, making her breathe a sigh of relief.Â
âWhen I caught up to him and had the rickety old house he hid in surrounded, I went in on my own. I didn't want to scare him, you see. Y/N pounced on me from the ceiling wielding a rusty knife. I shielded myself, making him fly across the room like a rag, collapsing into some shelves. He didn't surrender though - he rose up, coughing, and attacked me with his bare hands. I had to push back yet again, but this time he fell and did not strike again. Instead, I saw tears in his eyes. The words he spoke are why you are here.â
â
âUghâŚâ You clutch your chest, trying in vain to stop the blunt ache from spreading across your body. The dust and sand raised by the commotion gets into your lungs - you cough. Her pink hair pierces through the colourless cloud of dust, slowly coming closer.Â
Your hand desperately pats your closest surroundings in search of a weapon. Nothing.Â
âCalm down, please.â She speaks, raising both her hands in an attempt to look less threatening. But you know these tricks like the back of your hand. Even the softest of tones can carry the most hateful of words. âI don't want to hurt you.â
âLiar! Do you think I'm⌠Ah⌠Stupid enough to believe you?!â You crawl back but soon feel the woodworm-chewed wood of the hut against your skin. There is no way out, but you won't go quietly. âWhat is this new torture? Did you find my screams and pleads boring enough for you to invade my dreams too? Do you think that you infesting my waking life is not enough?!â
She stops, her hands lowering. You can't see her face through the dust-caused tears, but she looks⌠disoriented. A soft âwhatâ reaches your ears.Â
âSo that's how it is, Matsui. If you think you can fool me with a simple change of face and name, you're wrong. And if you think you can rape my mind too, you're mistaken! This is my dream, I have the power here! And I can do whatever I want. I can kill you. Or I can kill myself.â You look around, spotting a dusty razor blade, half-buried under the debris. You make sure not to look at it directly. âYou may hurt me in the physical world, but you won't hurt me in the only safe haven I have left. Fuck you!â
Leaping forward towards the weapon, you quickly feel your body freeze in mid air. Thin, purple lightning wraps around your wrists, arms, ankles⌠You're stuck. You wiggle your fingers, desperately trying to reach your way out. Your proof of agency. Your display that you can influence what happens to you, that youâre not a mindless object. This simple tool that will break her toy once and for all.Â
But regardless of your desires, Miko snares you with her elemental powers, just short of the razor. An ancient painting of helplessness and dread.Â
âI hate you! I hate you!â You scream, ears folding in rage. âI hate you and everything you stand for!â
Miko doesnât respond. She simply does not know if any word could convey the feelings brewing in her mind; neither the confusion about the reason for your outburst, nor the astonishment at just what came out of your mouth, are expressible. She observes you as your malnourished body trembles with rage, with hate. Vitriol rolls freely off your tongue. You call her every single insult you know in a hopeless attempt to⌠Scare her, make her back off, make her react somehow. The silence confuses you⌠Does she not want to kick you into shutting up? Your futile resistance against the bindings falters, wrath turning into hopeless sadness. Yet again you feel tears rolling down your face.Â
âH-hate you⌠W-whyâŚâ
Your body is lowered back onto the floor and you immediately fall limp. The world, your past, your future and your present overwhelm your senses. You donât want this, you never did. You didnât plead in the face of Gods to let you come into this world, experience neither the pleasures, nor the pains of what surrounds you. You cannot deal with this yourself. You cannot be a hero. You cannot be an example that itâs possible, that you can endure anything and live on. Youâre weak.Â
So weak and witless that you canât even kill yourself.Â
You hear her shuffle closer to you. Normally you would move away from her, dodge her touch as best as you could. But this time your hands wrap around her loose sleeves and pull them closer. Before long your face nuzzles into her chest, attempting to hide from the world, even behind the one that hurt you so much. She strokes your hair, softly speaking to you in an attempt to ease your nerves, fruitlessly. Because, sobbing, you realise why you cling onto her so much. Even after she broke your tails, even after she broke your ribs, branded you, starved and humiliated and assaulted and belittled and objectified you.Â
Itâs because you have nobody else.Â
Only her. Only Matsui.Â
â
Mizuki listens intently to Mikoâs report, her mind already picking apart your words and analysing it for potential basis. Her conclusions come swiftly and decidedly.Â
âDerealisationâ, she says. âClear signs of post traumatic stress disorders, suicidal ideation and rock-bottom self esteem. Nod-Krai syndrome.â
âIâm unfamiliar with that. What does it mean?â Miko sits by your side, eyes boring into your unconscious face with a vague, hateful expression. She wants to hug you, shelter you from the world like she did just hours ago. But she would much more tear out the throat of Matsui, whoever she was - sky kitsune or a lowly fox, it did not matter.Â
âNod-Krai was conquered by the Cryo Archon, who quickly began decisive repressions against the local culture and ethnic identity.â Mizuki explains. âHowever, thanks to circumstances, local power play and propaganda, the native people of the land became thankful and loyal to their oppressor, the destroyer of altars and the murderer of entire villages. In the same exact way, Y/N seems to cling to Matsui - in this case, believing youâre her in disguise, despite everything she did to him in the past.â
Miko clenches her other hand, keeping the one on your shoulder soft and open. She nods. âI understand.â
Thereâs a moment of silence before the baku picks up the conversation.Â
âWould you let me examine him?â She stands up. âI might not be a trained medic, but I think I can pick up some things you might have missed.â
The other woman, having shaken off the gloom of her memory, sends her friend a playfully indignant expression.Â
âWith respect to your own skill, Lady Guuji.âÂ
Miko smiles. âAh, such compliments. In that case, you may have a look.â
Mizuki nods in thanks and takes the spot just freed by her host. Your defences seemed rather timid - the reason could be simple restraint or mercy, but judging by Mikoâs accounts of your mistrust and paranoia, something else was at play. She guides her finger closer to your lips and carefully lifts up your lip, revealing perfectly tended, pristine teeth. Upon a closer look, she notices what exactly stands out among them.Â
âHis canines. They are filed down, see?â She opens your jaw a little, revealing just how even your teeth are, deprived of the four points in the corners. âThe ends are imperfectly flat and there are small chips on the inside of each tooth. It could have been done with a simple nail file⌠I barely see red, meaning they must have been fairly long before.â
Ignoring the chills running down her spine from the mental image for curiosityâs sake, Miko leans in to get a better look. âIsnât the pulp inside the entire tooth?â
âIt is.â Mizuki nods. âBut here it has a large circumference, meaning this is the base of the tooth.â Her own teeth hurt as if in solidarity with yours. âBy the Shogun, I pray he wasnât awake for thisâŚâ
Miko refrains from speaking to avoid words unbefitting of the Guuji slipping from her lips. The psychologistâs eyes wander down to your hands. The sight of perfectly clipped nails, so much so that they end with not the thinnest of white lines, seems odd to her. Surely after an extensive journey to Narukami Island by sea, and presumably no manicure from Miko, they would have grown even a little bit. She takes your left index finger into her hand and pauses right away. The nail⌠Itâs not tough. To verify her suspicion, she scratches at it with her own fingernails, only to find that they meet no resistance. Whatâs more, something brown flakes off. Mizuki does this some more and proceeds to gather up the shavings onto her palm, turning around and presenting it to Miko.Â
âCan you please tell me what they smell like?â She asks. âI touched his fingernails and they flaked off.â
Without question, Miko lifts Mizukiâs hand up to her nose and takes a careful whiff.
âHmâŚâ She muses. âHis scent, sweat and⌠Leather? Yes. Tanned leather, the sort used for shoes.â
âThen it is just as I had feared. Miko, I think heâs been⌠Declawed, in a manner of speaking.â She presses your fingers into her arms, as hard as she can, but she feels no toughness digging into her skin.Â
Mikoâs heart begins to beat faster. âDeclawed? Like a cat, you say? How is that even possible if he is in human form? Human nails grow all the timeâŚâ
âThatâs a good question. Iâd guess that the techniques they used to subdue dogs became advanced enough to do that. Even if itâs impossibly cruel⌠Itâs impressive.â She shows your hand to Miko. âThese painted strips of leather do look like normal fingernails.â
Your caretaker glances at your hand, then back at your peaceful face. It seems like your owners didnât like their toy having any capability to fight back, or just show displeasure. Like a cat that paws anybody in defence or a dog, biting its cruel owner, you were stripped of your natural defences. She can already imagine it wasnât enough - judging by how you acted, they tried to remove your very instinct to oppose and protect yourself. If not for this episode of confusion between dreams and the waking world, would she never see you fight back? Never see you refuse, stand your ground, all because whatever you could use was taken away and your mind was washed with cruelty and abuse to be unable to comprehend consent, self-preservation?
Most importantlyâŚ
Was this done to you right away, or as punishment�
âI want to know. I want to see what he experienced.â Miko says, her brow furrowing. âHe might not be able to tell me, but I must know. I must understand.â
Mizuki nods. âGive me a moment. Weâll see soon enough.â
In Mikoâs gaze, resting on your limp, nailless, tortured hand, there is a promise.Â
Sheâs coming for you.Â
Sheâll pick up the pieces and put you back together, however shattered you might be.Â
Been getting back into Elden Ring lately and rewatching some Shadow of the Erdtree trailers, Iâm suddenly thinking ofâ
Reader, in an alternate reality / bubble universe of HSR, assassinating Yaoshi, stealing THEIR authority of Abundance and replacing THEM as the new Aeon of Abundance.
It starts off with Reader hearing old and almost completely faded tales of the Aeons before THEY ever ascended, and searching for Yaoshiâs origins prior to Aeonhood in hopes of finding a weakness to eliminate THEM for good.
While following a potential lead, Reader gets ambushed by some borisin and Disciples of Sanctus Medicus. They mock Reader and the Allianceâs attempts at ridding the Abundance completely, reciting the usual line of âimmortality means forever,â all but underscoring the possibility that there may never be a method to reverse immortality, or a cure for the marastruck.
Which reminds Reader of some late night thoughts they have had before:
Even if Yaoshi is destroyed, what about what happens afterward?
Can Yaoshi really be destroyed?
With Yaoshi being the Aeon of Abundance, THEYâre not just some god of life â THEY may as well be life itself.
Just like how nobody seems to know how Fuli the Remembrance came into being; and who the fuck knows whatâs going on with IX the Nihility, or Qlipoth the Preservation.
On the other hand, surely with stories about the likes of Nanook and Lan originally being mortal before ascending, at least something similar could also be said for Yaoshi? Perhaps it ties into THEIR respective Path�
Then there is the case of Ena the Order being assimilated / absorbed into Xipe the Harmony.
Nous basically being one giant supercomputer with the intelligence to go along with THEIR status as the Aeon of Erudition.
Tayzzyronth, a giant insect that literally became a primal god and started spreading a man-eating swarm throughout outer space, all because THEY didnât want to be âlonely.â
Surely, surely, there must be something on Yaoshi.
Readerâs line of thought grinds to a halt when overhearing Mok Tok accuse Feixiao (a former slave to the borisin) a thief.
Thief.
Stealing.
Reader starts forming a very dangerous idea.
The situation with Xipe and Ena proved that, even if a Pathâs Aeon dies in some form (metaphorically and / or literally) they will still have followers, the Beyond the Sky Choir being one example as followers of the Path of Order.
So, if Yaoshi truly cannot be killed, and in this case likely cannot be assimilated into another AeonâŚwhy not overthrow and replace THEM?
After mulling it over, Reader up and disappears one day.
At first, itâs treated as a missing persons case. Reader had been digging into Yaoshi and THEIR origins to find something the Alliance might be able to use against THEM. No one would be surprised if the Disciples managed to either kidnap or just outright kill Reader.
But, there are also no signs of struggle in Readerâs home. Every day leading up to Reader disappearing was as normal as can possibly be. Word starts to spread that Reader might have actually up and left voluntarily. The Disciples even mock the Alliance, saying that Reader has finally wizened up to the senseless destruction of the Hunt, and ditched them; and, unfortunately, while Reader was never seen amongst the Denizens of Abundance, there is also no dismissing the possibility of Reader having grown sick of the Xianzhou Alliance and leaving on their own.
Itâs all Jing Yuan can do to quietly request the Astral Express crew to keep an eye out for Reader, not wanting to give up on another old friend; but heâs also not holding out much hope, to be honest.
However, odd reports being to crop up over the following months.
Trespassing on Vidyadhara territory across all five Xianzhou ships, right where their respective plaguemarks are located.
Break-ins at each shipâs Shackling Prisons.
Major leaders among the Denizens of Abundance â wingweavers, borisin, cobrakind, houyhnhnm, Disciples of Sanctus Medicus â being picked off, their subordinates either decimated or scattered and in total disarray; until eventually someone at the very top is killed (an up and coming borisin Warhead to replace Hoolay, a wingweaver general who has never known defeat, an old sect leader among Sanctus Medicus, etcetera).
Items and artifacts associated with the Abundance being stolen.
Some of the Denizens of Abundance actually rebelling â against each other, in some kind of civil war.
Corrupt Vidyadhara Preceptors being sold out / tricked into selling themselves out.
Corrupt officials among the Xianzhouâs government being outed and ousted from their positions, not unlike the Preceptors.
The Denizens of Abundance are barely hanging on, and the Xianzhouâs authorities are in just as much disarray, with so many people gradually reaching a point of being at each otherâs throats.
And at the center of it all: someone who might very well be Reader.
Readerâs actions raise so many questions. On one hand, theyâve dealt a lot of damage against the Abundance Axis in record time. On the other hand, theyâve just committed quite a few crimes against the Xianzhou Alliance (not really major crimes, and certainly no Unpardonable Sins were committed, but still).
What exactly are they trying to do?
What are they thinking?
The answer arrives in the form of a panicking envoy spreading word on what Reader is about to do â along with what sounds like a church bellâs ring echoing across the cosmos, loud and foreboding.
Yaoshiâs terrified screams can be heard as THEY are bound and strung up at an altar, THEIR arms are severed, THEMSELVES executed by Reader; and immediately afterwards, Reader offs themselves in what looks like a ritual to destroy their own mortal body, using the power stolen from Yaoshiâs being to create a new body fit for a new Aeon.
And to ensure that the Plagues Author never resurfaces, or at least stays gone for many Amber Eras to come, Reader further dismembers THEM, crushing THEIR organs to pulp, grinding THEIR bones to dust, locking THEIR soul in the nether realm never to reincarnate, and throwing all fragments of THEIR corpse into random suns throughout the universe, unable to ever be reached by anyone.
It is a gruesome ascension that spilled so much blood, but Reader succeeds in usurping the power of Abundance.
The shockwave of that final conflict can be felt everywhere, not just by the Denizens and the Xianzhou Alliance, as a new era is cemented by the resounding clang of Qlipothâs hammer.
For a moment, everything is eerily still.
And then â chaos.
If the Denizens of Abundance hanging on by a thread before, they are now in total shambles. Not only was their patron Aeon overthrown and destroyed, it was all done by someone from a faction they have been archenemies with since millennia.
The Xianzhou Alliance is split between wariness and celebration. Who knows how Reader might turn out with their newfound authority?
But, even if there is the extremely small possibility that Yaoshi might one day return, there is no denying that the Xianzhou Alliance doesnât need to worry about turning the tide of their ongoing war anymore. Readerâs actions triggered a whole tsunami and devastated morale among the remnants of the Abundance Axis. Something like that is at least worth celebrating.
The Genius Society and Intelligentsia Guild are scrambling for information. When did this all start? How did Yaoshi, an immortal being with power over unbridled life, fall at the hands of mortals? How did the usurper manage to pull it all off?
The IPC is very quickly withdrawing all of their agents from the Xianzhou Alliance and the Denizens of Abundance. Sure, they could try and make find some kind of benefit from the situation, but would it be worthwhile when none of them have any idea how things could go? Best to sit back and observe and avoid being implicated in anything.
Even the Stellaron Hunters are in a state of shock. Elio is utterly gobsmacked that Reader actually went and defied the script, forcing open a new path to a new ending. Silver Wolf is freaking out that Reader literally just âbroke the game.â Fireflyâs trying to call and message Reader, but isnât getting a response. Kafkaâs not smiling for once. Blade is at a loss because what could this now mean for himself and what remains of the High Cloud Quintet, given all that they have suffered due to the ongoing conflict between the Hunt and the Abundance? Like Firefly, heâs trying to contact Reader, but there is only radio silence.
The Astral Express crew is just as disorganized as everyone else. Himeko and Welt are contacting every connection they have, starting with Herta (because of course she would be able to glean the most details in a short amount of time) and Dan Heng calling Jing Yuan (as this matter would certainly be related to the Xianzhou Alliance). March and the Trailblazer are also trying to call and message Reader directly; but like Firefly, neither of them get a response.
The other Aeons THEMSELVES were already quiet; but now they seem to have gone even quieter, for reasons yet unknown as the event is still so very fresh.
Although, if THEYâve grown quieter out of caution, perhaps even fear, can anyone blame THEM? A being of equal status to THEM had just been horrifically slaughtered and supplanted in an act of desperation and vengeance; and at least a few of the other Aeons have had some negative consequences inflicted on other parties, whether directly or indirectly.
Lan, in THEIR pursuit of eliminating the Abundance, has caused massive collateral damage many times, wiping out even some of THEIR own followers.
Xipe, while usually a benign god, left followers of the Order without their own Aeon when THEY subsumed Ena; and it cannot be guaranteed that some followers of the Harmony didnât use their own Harmony powers without ulterior motives.
IX, even if accidentally / unwittingly, destroyed Takamagahara and Izumo, and has given rise to who knows how many Self-Annihilators.
Fuliâs Garden of Recollection, despite all the strict (if odd) regulations and punishments for violations, still has Cremators and Memosnatchers stealing / destroying / tampering with countless memories.
The IPC has been conquering and enslaving countless planets for their resources while destroying dissenters, all in Qlipothâs name.
Who can guarantee that one of THEM wonât be the next Aeon to be stripped of THEIR Path authority and murdered?
The only sign of Reader retaining any semblance of their old selfâs benevolence is their very first act as an Aeon: uprooting and torching the Luofuâs Ambrosial Arbor to ashes, and replacing it with a seed that will grow into a new tree, its falling leaves and blossoms having the calming effect of suppressing the mara among all long-life species aboard the Luofu, and allowing the already marastruck to regain and retain at least some of their lucidity and sanity (while also allowing Xianzhou craftsmen to continue making starskiffs from the treeâs seeds, like with the Arbor).
The only thing in this scenario that is remotely funny is Readerâs phone blowing up with probably over a hundred messages in their chats, and Reader isnât responding is because theyâve turned off notifications.
Readerâs day was a really busy one. They would like to hit the snooze button.
First off of all, you did not hold back...
Second of all, youâve just handed me a cosmic opera, a high-stakes mythological tragedy with the energy of god-killer ascension meets galaxy-shaking rebellion, and Iâm eating this like itâs a banquet.
This Reader? This Reader is terrifying, brilliant, and somehow still grounded by a deeply human core. The way you've set this all upâlayer by layerâis masterful. Every beat is loaded with weight, and you managed to maintain a clear thread of emotional momentum through sheer scope. Iâm going feral.
Reader didnât just rebel, they dismantled a god. Piece by piece. Not with some poetic mercyâno, they committed metaphysical butchery with all the precision and finality of someone who knows exactly how the gears of cosmic law turn, and how to stop the clock.
They studied Yaoshi. Dissected THEM conceptually. Unwound the Path of Abundance like an overgrown vine. And the horror of it? The ritual wasnât just goreâit was divinely calculated annihilation. A new Aeon built from the grave of the last. An aeonic execution and inheritance.
The entire galaxy shook. And rightly so.
The Xianzhou is caught in the worldâs most awkward âshould we be throwing a parade or preparing for extinctionâ moment.
The Stellaron Hunters have just seen their wildcard defy fate so hard Elio's script now needs footnotes and red ink edits.
The Express Crew is heartbroken and concerned. That âplease pick up the phoneâ kind of dread.
The IPC is vanishing like cockroaches when the light turns on. (âWeâre just an intergalactic finance corp, we want nothing to do with this.â)
And the other Aeons? Nervous silence. Because if Yaoshiâwho could not be killedâwas taken out by Reader⌠then no one is safe anymore.
Whatâs absolutely wild is that even though Readerâs now a god, their first act was selfless. Healing. They burned the Arbor, not in wrath, but with mercy. Thatâs terrifying in its own way. A being capable of multiversal genocide, choosing compassionâbut making it clear they chose it.
Amid this thunderous upheavalâthe ringing of celestial bells, suns swallowing the corpse of a god, a new Aeon rising from golden fireâyou still manage to stick the landing with the most beautifully mundane, human image:
Readerâs phone has 168 unread messages, most of them in all caps.
Kafka: âPLEASE answer I am going to kill you and then cry about it.â
Firefly: âAre you okay?? Did you just...did you kill a god?? Should I bring snacks??â
Silver Wolf: âBRO. BRO. BRO. [screenshot] You LITERALLY GLITCHED THE SYSTEM.â
Trailblazer: âI know youâre a god now but you still owe me that rematch in ping-pong.â
Pom-Pom: âYou still haven't cleaned the Trailblazerâs dirt out of the vents.â
Readerâs just lying in the stars, newly-forged body humming with Path energy, sipping a tea made from stardust and comet cores, watching their phone light up like a Christmas tree.
Do not disturb: Divine Recalibration In Progress.
You wrote the kind of scene Aeons will whisper about. This has serious âfinal act of a 200-hour gameâ energy, mixed with cosmic horror, introspection, divine revolution, and quiet grief. Iâm honestly floored by the scale and thoughtfulness.
And somewhere deep in the silence between stars, you know Reader is smiling.
Yo itâs me again with more ideas of that technological advanced reader who is lowkey kinda unintentionally teasing the hell out of anyone and everyone.
Like perhaps they manifested in Hertaâs laboratory just seemingly looking over her notes. And then saying something like: âOh? Youâre using those instead of- ah itâs nothing. Youâre doing good work, young one. Then leaves. Or going to Ruan Mei and saying: âOh? Huh, you almost broke through the 5th tier of BiologyâŚmost impressive for your kind. WaitâŚoh I see what youâre missing.â then walks off.
Memokeepers? âYou think my kind havenât accounted for memetic entityâs? Your existence is a beacon in the Shroud. Our psychic minds located you easily and how daemons havenât found you is astonishing! Lightcones? You mean Memorexâs? Yes we have some, but are outdated though.â
Perhaps they were at Penacony when Sunday was starting to ascend, looking at this ânewbornâ Aeon with an unimpressed look. âReally? All that work to ascend? A small aetherophasic engine could do this without all this drama.â
Oh my god, Readerâs so casually devastating itâs almost rudeâlike if a cosmic oracle and your too-cool older cousin merged into one deadpan techno-deity.
Theyâre not trying to flex. Thatâs just how their species talks. And everyone around them is caught between admiration, insecurity, and "I need to sit down and rethink my life."
Like imagine Herta just pausing mid-research and blinking in offense while Readerâs already fading out of view like some smug wraith:
Herta: "Young oneâ?? Young one??? Iâm literally a genius." (âŚNo, youâre technically a puppet, Herta.")
Ruan Mei would have this slightly overwhelmed smile while gripping her clipboard tighter:
Ruan Mei: âAhâŚso you can see the flaw in tier five of my researchâŚwould youâŚcare to shareâŚ?â
Reader: âMmm. Youâll get there.â floats off
And the Memokeepers?? Absolutely scandalized.
Memokeepers: âWeâre ancient!â
Reader: âYouâre loud.â
They donât even get a proper goodbyeâjust Reader adjusting a little metal prism on their wrist and suddenly vanishing through a ripple in spacetime, leaving the Keepers having an existential crisis.
And Penacony?? Reader watching Sunday trying to crown himself as an Aeon and justâ
Reader: arms crossed, voice like a disappointed lab supervisor âIf your kind truly sought transcendence, I couldâve sent you the design doc from my peopleâs first failed attempt 60,000 cycles ago.â
Sunday, glowing with ego: âYou dare mock divinity?â
Reader: brows raised ever so slightly âYouâre adorable.â
Reader absolutely has that âso ancient and advanced that everything you do is mid to themâ energyâand they donât even mean to be mean. Theyâre just built that way.
Firefly with a reader companion that is a Space Marine, more specifically an Iron Warrior (after the Horus Heresy yes yes).
Reader who is just this brutally efficient and hardworking individual within the Stellaron Hunters, always either working on daemon engines, their heavy bolter, or helping the other Hunters with their tasks (mostly Silverwolf).
I like to imagine moments between them where like, reader is working on a daemon engine and as Firefly approaches the engine literally *growls* at her and all reader has to say about it is, "Help me, my hand is too large to fit here." And she's just chill with it.
Firefly: "Wait, are those teeth?"
Reader: "Huh? Oh for... best leave little light."
*Unholy screaming and banging starts the moment Firefly leaves*
Reader and Firefly, who both share quiet hours admitting their shortcomings, their hopes and their fears.
Reader who, in moments of pure vulnerability will looks down at Firefly and ask, "I am doing good... right?"
Sometimes reader slips into their old mindset, of just pure machine-like efficiency sometimes even referring to those around her as "meatbags" or just "flesh".
(Also HUGE daddy issues, cause well... Perturabo is kinda a dick)
Reader being this brutally efficient war machine who, despite their terrifying presence and daemon-infested hobbies, somehow ends up being one of the most reliable people Firefly knows? That contrast alone is amazing.
The moment with the daemon engine growling at Firefly is hilarious and unsettling at the same timeâlike, Fireflyâs just trying to exist while this nightmare machine made of screaming metal and warp-forged hatred is snarling at her, and Reader is just like, âOh, yeah, donât worry about that. Just need you to reach in there real quick.â
Absolutely unhinged, I love it.
And the quiet moments? God.
Reader, who has seen centuries of war, betrayal, and sheer industrialized suffering, sitting in the dim light with Firefly and actually talking about their feelings? About their fears? About whether theyâre even capable of doing good?
Thatâs devastatingly human.
The slip-ups where they refer to people like a machine wouldâcalling them âmeatbagsâ or âfleshââare so telling. Itâs habitual dehumanization, something drilled into them from years of war, of survival, of being treated as just another cog in a brutal, uncaring machine. And Firefly, being Firefly, would probably just⌠pause for a second. Maybe frown. Maybe try to remind them, gently, that theyâre more than just a tool for destruction.
And those daddy issues? Oof. Yeah. No matter how much Reader tries to act like theyâve moved past it, his voice is still in their head. Still whispering that they are only as valuable as their efficiency. That their worth is in their usefulness, not in who they are.
Firefly, in contrast, is someone who still believes in hope. In second chances. And while Reader would probably scoff at itâbecause Iron Warriors donât get second chances, only the next warâI think, deep down, they want to believe her.
I would honestly like to see how the Hsr universe would react to reader who is apart of an incredibly technologically advanced civilization. Far beyond than even the genius society could make. Like they would consider Nous to be a standard computer that gone rampant. Theyâd consider Qliopthâs universe wall to be primitive,and inefficient. Nanook nothing more than a child throwing a temper tantrum. Even looking at Tayzzyronth how one would react to an ant infestation in there house. âPathstriders? PleaseâŚour pyschic minds are obviously superior!âWhatâs worse is that this civilization is incredibly isolationist. Take not even a millimeter in their galaxy and you just get zapped by something like a Dark Matter ripper.
Why reader is here, why they gone outside their galaxy? Unknown. But everyone is now incredibly wary to not piss off the Super civilization. Besides the Genius SocietyâŚgotta at least try and get some juicy knowledge/tech.
I mostly came up with idea after Playing Modded Stellaris and made my armada nothing but systemcraft (A solar system made into a ship), someone looking at the Genius Society as one would a âscienceâ club in elementary school, and just because I like the idea of a mega powerful civilization that stays in one galaxy.
Oh, this concept is insanely cool. A civilization so advanced that even the Genius Society looks like a group of kids playing with toy rockets in comparison? The Aeons themselves dismissed as primitive constructs? Thatâs some next-level godlike tech flexing right there.
Nobody knows why youâre here. Not even you. Maybe curiosity. Maybe a whim. Maybe a moment of boredom so profound that you deigned to step beyond the vast and impenetrable dominion of your people, where entire solar systems are reshaped like clay and civilizations are engineered and discarded with clinical efficiency.
And now youâre standing in the middle of Hertaâs Space Station, looking at an Erudition Pathstrider like you would an enthusiastic toddler showing you their macaroni art.
âOh, how cute. Your intelligence augmentation is still biological. I remember when our people used to do that⌠millennia ago.â
âYour universe barrier is adorable. No, really, itâs like watching a child build a sandcastle to hold back the tide.â
âNous? Youâre telling me that thing is supposed to be a superior intellect? Thatâs just a rampant AI that hasnât figured out self-modification loops properly. I wouldnât let it run my coffee machine.â
Nanook? A child throwing a tantrum. At best, an inconvenienceâlike a particularly aggressive virus in an old, forgotten computer system. At worst, a misguided fool still clinging to the concept of âdestructionâ when your kind learned long ago that matter and energy are just expressions of the same fundamental rules.
The worst part? Youâre not hostile. Youâre just⌠indifferent. Itâs not arrogance, itâs just facts. The way a Type III civilization might view a medieval kingdom.
The IPC? Terrified. A single ship from your people could likely deconstruct the entire Interastral Peace Corporationâs infrastructure in seconds. Their only play is desperate diplomacy.
The Xianzhou? They are wary. They have fought gods, they have stood against destruction⌠but you? You are something beyond divinity.
The Genius Society? Oh, they are salivating. Screw the consequences. If there is knowledge to be gained, then it is worth the risk.
Herta is losing her mind. She wants to get you to talk, to reveal even one fundamental law that could shift the entirety of known science.
Screw the Aeons. You? You are the pinnacle of scientific achievement.
And why are you here?
Even you donât know. Maybe itâs boredom. Maybe itâs something deeper. Maybe, just maybe, your civilizationâso used to its own isolation, its own perfectionâhas finally produced something too intelligent. Something that looked outward and thought:
"I wonder what the lesser beings are up to."
And so you left your empire, the first in countless millennia. Not as an exile. Not as a conqueror. But as a mere observer.
Hey I was looking over your Eldritch creator au and I would like to share an idea.
I was always thinking that âwhat if something happened? Something big?â Say for example, out of nowhere a humanoid entity appeared in front of every sapient and hugged them while crying. To the strongest, to the aeons and Emanatorâs they whisper one word âPrepareâ and for the rest?âIâm so sorry.â Before disappearing.
I always thought of a trope where even higher beings get so panicked that they warn lower life forms. Kinda like humans rescuing animals from forest fires or something.
That is an incredible idea. Thereâs something so unsettling about the idea of a being so beyond comprehensionâone that even the Aeons and the strongest warriors fearâcrying. Itâs the kind of moment that would shake the entire cosmos to its core.
The idea that this entity, something older, stronger, and wiser than even the Aeons themselves, appears and embraces every sentient beingâwhispering an apology to some and a warning to othersâthatâs chilling.
The Aftermath: What Happens Next?
The Aeons Reactions: The strongest beings in the universe, those who dictate entire paths, suddenly go into panic mode. Maybe some go into hiding. Maybe others start preparing for war against an enemy they donât even understand yet.
The Emanatorsâ Fear: Those closest to the Aeonsâthose who have seen wonders and horrors alikeâvisibly shaken. If theyâre afraid, then what hope do mortals have?
Civilizations Collapse in Panic: Imagine entire empires, upon hearing the whisper of âIâm so sorry,â losing all will to fight, rule, or even continue as they are. If the gods themselves are afraid, then what does that mean for them?
Schisms in Belief: Some people would worship the entity, believing it to be some kind of ultimate protector. Others would see it as a harbinger of doom, the beginning of the end.
The Search for Answers: Every scholar, every faction, every power in the cosmos would be scrambling to understand what just happened and why.
What Could It Mean?
Something Worse is Coming. The entity isnât the threatâitâs fleeing from one. Something is chasing it. Something even it fears.
The Universe is Dying. Maybe this is a warning that reality itself is crumbling, and no amount of power will stop it.
The Entity is a Survivor. Perhaps they came from a destroyed world, the last remnant of a civilization that was consumed by something so powerful, so inevitable that even an Eldritch being could do nothing but watch.
Itâs You. Maybe this is an alternate version of the Reader, from a timeline where everything was lost. Maybe theyâre trying to warn their past self.
This idea is absolutely phenomenal. Itâs the kind of event that would completely reshape an entire universe, leaving everyone scrambling to understand what just happened. The sheer weight of something that powerful beggingâeither for forgiveness or for others to prepareâis just bone-chilling.
Straight to the point. Equals part 3 is cooking on a small flame. Why? I'll explain further down. Have a teaser.
Respected Yumemizuki Mizuki,
It has been a while since our last outing, and I cannot help but wonder if you hold a grudge for that jovial bit of teasing regarding the recent customer crisis of your bathhouse. I can only assure you I meant no harm, and pray most piously to the Sacred Sakura for your forgiveness. It was my intention all along to motivate you out of your, do not take offence, rather pathetic state of defeatism. Judging by how the issue was resolved, it seems that my ploy found significant success. Wouldnât you agree?
Regardless, there is a matter of great importance that happens to require our attention. I am sure the situation regarding a certain destructive white fox has reached your adorable, pointy ears - it is indeed the topic of this letter. You may remember that he was rescued quite recently from the open ocean, but until yesterday, he was rather docile in terms of behavior. His sudden outburst worries me greatly; dark bags under his eyes, seemingly relentless night terrors and his words all lead me to the conclusion that his unprecedented episode of mania is related to his dreams. I will share more details at my home - feel free to visit me at your earliest convenience. Haste would be appreciated as the sedatives will wear off in about a day or so; I believe the opportunity to examine him without resistance will significantly speed up our work.Â
If you indeed hold a grudge towards me, I ask you to do it for him, not for me.
Awaiting your visit,Â
The Beloved, Beautiful and Powerful Kitsune Guuji of the Narukami Shrine
Yae Miko
Now, updates. My brain has been in a washing machine of stuff recently - changing majors, my family's disapproval, my translating job, getting my documents ready and relentlessly worrying about every little thing in the world. In creative terms, I've been having a period of puppy-like attention span recently. I've written something for Bittersweet Endings (a collection of short aftermaths of the breakup series), a more hardcore fic including Signiora being a vile charactered but hot woman as well as something unrelated to Genshin - an attempt at making a scientific entry regarding Drowners, creatures from Slavic folklore. Recently I got an idea for doing something akin to the SCP Foundation, but taking an ordinary zoology approach to fictional beasts - speculative evolution, taxonomy, ecology and occultism all included. But you guys probably aren't interested in that. Oh, and I've been writing out a plan for a potential fic; monster hunter reader does a contract for Cloud Retainer, taking along his love Shenhe and young Chongyun to show him some exorcisms in practice.
So yeah, lots of stuff. Too bad fantasies of potential fics can't turn them into posts...
âThen, we got a report that another fetch was sighted in the city.â
Ayaka whispers confidentially, staring up at the night sky as she leans against the cold, stone wall of the Kamisato Estate. The air around her is cool, but the voice behind the wall brings a warmth to her heart, so comfortingly familiar.Â
You whisper, putting your mouth close to a small hole in the wall. âI've heard about it. It spooked a woman, right?â
Your lover nods, though out of your view. âYes, that's right. But she wasn't hurt, thank the Shogun. The little Bake-Danuki didn't mean any harm, after all.â
A chuckle. âMischievous cuties, aren't they?â
She smiles, lowering her head to keep it from showing. Just being here this late at night was risky enough. But she had a plan, clutched right in her hand. Some sort of astrological scribbles and diagrams she bought from a foreign astrologer - she didn't understand what they were for or how to decipher them, but fortunately, nobody else did either. It was a good excuse in case one of the staff noticed her, talking to herself against the outer wall. âI was just analysing the night skyâ, she would claim while you scurried away into the darkness.Â
Her brother already found out about her heart's longings for the common folk when he noticed you being a bit too friendly with her. You were ousted, but Ayato did not publicly declare the reason for your termination - for your own safety. If the news that the princess mingled romantically with a peasant, the reputation of the Kamisato clan would be tarnished. In Inazuma, there was hardly any flexibility or room for tolerance amongst the obstinate higher class, one the siblings had to put up with. Ayaka knew that her brother would bless her marriage if he could - you were a kind and loyal person, after all. But he couldn't ignore the consequences and put her up for ostracism and scrutiny, to be pelted with dishonouring accusations.Â
But her heart longed for you, and yours longed for her. You weren't allowed to enter the estate again, so the only way was to meet here, way back on the estate grounds with a thick wall separating you. It was too tall to climb so the guard did not patrol much here, and if he did, you could easily hear him approach before he turned the corner and climb down the rocky shelf to safety, out of view. Ayaka would then sneak back into her quarters, away from any suspicions.Â
âI wish you were there.â She sighs, groping the scroll in her hands. âThere were many Yokai, all of those that still interact with humanity. And even some more.â
She turns her head slightly, peeking through the hole to see your smiling face. âSome sort of sentient staff came up to us, you know? Miko relegated it to one of her shrine maidens, of course, as it could not speak yet.â
Your eyes meet with her silver gaze, warm against the harsh ocean winds whipping your back. âTypical, I say. Since it could not speak, I bet she found it boring.â
You hear a hum from the other end. âYes, I'm sure she would love to tease it. But alas, she could not. So she gave it away, and I saw the Traveler walking around with it.â
âI suppose it found a good home, though knowing him, he'll likely just hit things with it.â
Ayaka covers her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh. Footsteps. âI bet, dear!âÂ
You smile at her adorable attempt. If only you could see her face, see her mouth turn up at your words, her eyes closing and her delicate, royal hand, courtly holding the chuckle in. If onlyâŚ
A sigh escapes your lips. You lift your hand up and stick your pinky finger through the small hole.Â
âCan we⌠hold fingers for a while?â You ask, your voice almost pleading.Â
âOf course, love.â
You soon feel her middle finger touch yours. It's small. So lovably small. Like the girl herself, you think. You will never forget that one time when you hugged her. Your arms enveloped her entire frame, her cheek rested on your chest, feminine hands holding onto your back for comfort. Footsteps. You treasure that memory just as much as you treasured that moment. She felt safe, by her own admission. She didn't feel alone. She felt in love.Â
Pulling out your fingers, you both look through the opening. Your eyes meet.Â
For the briefest of moments.Â
âGot you!â
Ayaka jumps as she sees an armour-clad fist slam against your head. Her eyes open wide, hands immediately finding her mouth to stop the gasp from getting out. She watches in horror as your body hits the ground, quickly curling up as you receive a powerful kick to the stomach. You cough as the familiar, uniformed figure of Hirano towers over you, holding you at spearpoint.Â
âWhat were you thinking, huh!? Spying on the Kamisato Clan! How long were you here, fleabag? Why are you here?â
You refuse to answer, instead looking at Ayaka through the opening. You notice the silver glint of tears and panic mixing in her eyes. A sharp sting of pain shoots through your chest as Hirano strikes you with the butt of his weapon.Â
âAnswer me! I'll have you hanged, whoever you are, I swear by the Shogun!â The guard shouts at you, his tone striking fear into your heart. He was right, after all. That was most likely what awaited you.Â
You stay silent, covering your head with your hands. The guard groans and stomps on you with all his might, making you whine in pain. âHelp me! I need backup behind the estate! I've caught a spy!â
On the other side of the wall, Ayakaâs heart beats fast, so fast that she feels like it will tear apart any moment. You've been had, you've been had and you will be killed. They will torture you and they will execute you. They will boil you alive, crucify you or throw you into the sea with stones tied to your ankles because of her. No. No. No! She bites her fingers, chewing on them in stress as her mind flips through the options. She can't attack Hirano, she can't admit she loves you⌠Then what can she do!?
She gasps. Yes!Â
âHirano, sta-â Ayaka can't finish her command as a big hand clasps over her mouth. She squeals in panic, desperately wiggling to break free and save you. But a familiar voice reaches her ears.
âWhat are you doing, sister?!â Ayato hisses, still silencing Ayaka with his hand. He can't let her utter a word more - things are bad already as-is. The man's ears stake out for any reactions from beyond the wall.Â
âHuh?â The guard says, making Ayato furrow his brow. Ayakaâs desperate resistance slows to a halt, the tension in her body palpable. âHello? Is anybody there? Lord Ayato? Lady Ayaka?â
âShh. Stay quiet.â He whispers to his younger sister, the girl nodding and squeezing her teary eyes shut, afraid of what will happen next.Â
âHirano! Stand down! I'm a m-â Your voice is kicked shut, but the older sibling lets out a sigh of relief. You think quickly, that's good.Â
Without a word more, Ayato walks backwards, pulling his sibling away from the wall with him. The situation has been saved, as much as it could have been, but he can't risk it. His heart clenches at the image of Ayaka, desperately dashing over the wall to save you. He knows how much she values you, but he needs to handle the situation properly.
A moment later, Ayaka is sat down on the estate stairs. Ayato kneels down to her eye level, but Ayaka refuses to look him in the eyes. She sobs softly, hands clutching her dress in resigned despair.Â
There are a million things he wants to say. His anger wants him to ask her why. Why would she be stupid enough to risk herself and you this way? Why would she love you in the first place? He wants to tell her: âcongratulations, you've got him killedâ, but the sight of his darling sister, breaking down in horror at likely just this thought, stops the words from sounding out and reason quickly makes its way back to his mind.Â
It's love. Love is stupid and reckless by design.Â
âI'll⌠Do what I can, Ayaka.â
He embraces her, letting her bury herself in his shoulder, muting her heartbreaking sobs. Ayatoâs hand goes up to her hair, stroking it in an attempt to comfort her.Â