1 (your here) 2 (alternative au) 3
(I'm feeling angsty >:]) ((I kept crying while writing this))
Grim is the first one to notice.
They were bickering, as usual. Yuu told him not to wander off. He called them bossy and sauntered ahead. He thought Yuu was right behind him until he heard the rumble.
When Grim turns around, the mine is collapsing. He hears a scream—their scream—and then nothing.
At first, Grim is in denial.
“They’re probably fine! Just hiding like a scaredy-cat!” he yells, ears flat, tail bristled. He digs at the rocks, paws trembling, not because he’s weak but because he’s scared. His tiny claws scrape until they bleed.
Later, when the truth settles in, Grim doesn’t talk for days.
No bragging. No yelling. He just curls up on the couch in Ramshackle, staring at the door like he’s waiting for Yuu to walk through it.
He starts blaming himself. Quietly.
“I shoulda protected them… I’m the Great Grim, right? What good is all this power if I couldn’t save 'em…”
He makes some stupid comment at first. “They seriously died that easily? Weak…”
But his voice cracks halfway through. He avoids eye contact with Deuce and walks away before anyone can see him clench his fists.
Later, Ace returns to the mine alone. He just stands at the spot where the rocks fell, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
“Dumbass… you weren’t even supposed to be here. What were you thinking, coming down here without magic?”
If anyone tries to talk to him about it, he brushes them off. But sometimes, when no one's looking, he stares at Ramshackle’s gate like he wants to go up and say something—but always turns around.
He was right there. He thought he was being responsible. He was supposed to look out for the magicless student, right?
“I failed them…”
“I should’ve noticed something was wrong…”
“If I’d just reacted faster…”
He says things like that a lot. Grim won’t talk. Ace won’t listen. So Deuce just keeps repeating it to himself.
He visits Ramshackle and helps clean it up. Makes sure the firewood is stacked, the beds are neat—even though no one lives there anymore.
“I just… want to keep it ready. In case they come back. Somehow.”
Crowley is... complicated.
Publicly, he spins it as a “tragic accident”—“A rare, unfortunate incident during a school-sanctioned task! We shall honor our lost guest!” He uses big words and flashy speeches, and pretends like this wasn’t his fault.
But when he’s alone in his office, he looks at the file with Yuu’s name and wonders if he ever even really tried to help them.
He sent a magicless teen to mine with unstable students and monsters.
He knew they were different. Vulnerable. And yet, he brushed it off.
There’s a note he writes but never sends, addressed to the mirror that summoned Yuu:
“This realm took what it never should have touched. And now it has blood on its hands.”
He keeps the key to Ramshackle on his desk. Every time he sees it, he flinches.
He was right there—he saw the blast coming, and he tried to drag Yuu back, but they slipped from his grip.
“Yuu?” he calls out, paw nudging at their arm. “Hey. Hey, c’mon, this ain’t funny. Get up.”
He tries to laugh it off at first. Grim doesn’t do death. He doesn’t understand it. Not really.
But when the healers come and shake their heads, when no one responds, something inside Grim shatters.
His magic starts reacting wildly. He growls and sparks with unstable fire, yelling at Riddle’s unconscious body like it’s his fault.
“You ruined everything! They’re gone and it’s because of YOU!”
Afterward, he won’t eat. Won’t talk. He curls up in Yuu’s bed with their uniform jacket tucked under his chin, tail limp.
“They promised we’d figure stuff out together... Now I gotta do it alone?”
Not right away. First, it’s disbelief. “No, no, they’re gonna get up. Right? Deuce? Tell me they’re fine.”
Then, it’s anger. At Riddle. At Cater and Trey for not stopping it. At himself.
He slams his fist into a wall so hard his knuckles bleed.
“I should’ve pulled them out. I saw the signs. I knew something was gonna happen.”
He gets snappy. Bitter. Starts arguments with anyone who tries to sugarcoat it.
“They didn’t ‘pass peacefully.’ They got caught up in some overblot crap that wasn’t even their fault!”
He avoids Ramshackle. Too many memories. Too much guilt.
But he keeps Yuu’s student ID in his jacket pocket.
He tries to hold it in, tries to be strong—because that’s what he thinks Yuu would’ve wanted—but the tears come anyway. He sobs into his hands when no one’s looking, shaking with the weight of regret.
“I promised to protect them…” he whispers.
He keeps up their dorm. Keeps bringing food to Grim, even if the little guy won’t touch it. He visits Crowley’s office demanding answers, demanding justice, yelling that this shouldn’t have happened.
Deuce becomes the one who remembers the little things—how Yuu liked their tea, the dumb jokes they told, the way they always said "I've got your back" even without magic.
And he makes sure everyone else remembers too.
When he wakes up from the overblot and hears the news, he goes silent.
He doesn't cry. Doesn’t scream. He just… shuts down.
He asks to see the body. Crowley says no.
So Riddle walks to the rose maze himself, stands in the spot where Yuu fell, and just stares at the blood-stained petals.
He says it to no one. Over and over. A mantra. A curse.
He writes an apology note but tears it up. Who would it even go to?
Trey and Cater notice the shift—Riddle becomes harsher on himself. More rigid. Less confident. Because deep down, he knows:
Someone died because he lost control.
Cater’s smile doesn’t slip right away.
He’s used to filtering his emotions. Used to staying “on brand,” even when he’s horrified. So when he sees Yuu’s lifeless form after the magic storm clears, he just… freezes.
“H-Haha… no way, right? This has to be a prank. Right, Riddle?”
No one answers. Grim is howling. Ace is screaming. Deuce is crying.
Cater’s hands start to shake.
Later, he’ll post nothing. Not even a filtered picture. He'll ghost Magicam for a while.
He tries to visit Ramshackle once, to drop off a bouquet of marigolds and forget-me-nots—but the door creaks open and he sees Grim curled up on the couch, and he just can’t do it.
“I didn’t even know them,” he murmurs to himself, “and it still hurts this bad… What about the ones who did?”
Trey stays composed. He always does.
He takes over when everyone else is falling apart—helping stabilize the overblot aftermath, escorting Riddle away from the scene, offering Deuce a tissue, shielding Cater from seeing too much.
But when he's alone in the kitchen later, making a tart for no one, he lets himself break a little.
His knife pauses mid-slice. A cherry slips and stains the counter red.
“I should’ve noticed Riddle was this close to snapping,” he mutters. “If I’d stopped him sooner…”
Trey doesn't cry. But guilt clings to him like powdered sugar on a fresh cake. Yuu wasn’t his responsibility, but they were in his dorm's garden. Under his vice-leadership. And that’s not something he forgets easily.
He leaves a note at Ramshackle with a box of treats:
“For Grim. I know they liked sweet things.
—Trey”
Crowley is the one who has to “make it official.”
He stands before the gathered first years, his usual flourish gone. There’s no fanfare, no dramatic cloak-swoosh. Just a stiff, solemn tone.
“It is with deepest regret that I must confirm… the Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm has passed, following the incident involving an overblot.”
He doesn’t look anyone in the eye.
When the students leave, he stays behind in the hall, staring at the cracked mirror that once brought Yuu here.
“They were never supposed to be involved in magic,” he mutters. “I was supposed to protect them…”
He writes a formal report. Then another one. Then a third. None of them feel right.
Later, Crowley visits Ramshackle and sets down a key with a tiny raven charm beside their bed.
“I promised you safety.
I failed.
May this place remember you better than I did.”
It’s live. NRC's Spelldrive match is being broadcast across Twisted Wonderland.
Leona’s magic erupts like a sandstorm hurricane—spikes of sand and flame. Yuu is running, dragging an injured Grim, trying to reach Jack.
The sand settles. A figure lies limp in the wreckage.
There’s a gasp on the feed. The camera zooms in—
—and the world watches as the magicless Prefect, the one who stood beside overblots and chaos, lies still on the battlefield.
Grim doesn’t even process what happens at first.
He sees the sandstorm. The explosion of magic. He hears Yuu scream—and then nothing. Just silence.
He claws at their body.
“Get up! Hey! I said get UP!”
He tries to use his magic. Tries to warm them up with a fireball. Nothing works.
He sobs until his voice is hoarse. He doesn’t leave their side—not when the teachers show up, not when the sun sets, not even when Crowley tries to move him.
“You said we were gonna leave this place together, remember? You promised…”
After that, he never says their name again. But he whispers it in his sleep, tail curled around their favorite pillow.
No questions, no hesitation—he hauls off and decks him right across the jaw, shouting “You bastard! You KILLED them!”
It doesn’t matter that Leona’s still recovering from the overblot. It doesn’t matter that he gets dragged off. He’s shaking with rage.
Ace’s grief comes out as fire.
Loud. Angry. Messy.
Later, he sneaks into Ramshackle alone. He rifles through Yuu’s drawers, looking for something—a hoodie, a note, an old snack wrapper. Anything that still smells like them.
He finds a photo they all took before the Spelldrive match.
He keeps it in his wallet.
Deuce kneels beside Yuu’s body and doesn’t move for a long time.
He holds their hand. It’s still warm. He begs the healers to try again. Begs the staff to do something.
“They can’t be gone… Not them. Not Yuu…”
He starts blaming himself. “If I’d been faster. If I’d trained harder. If I’d just been stronger—”
He throws himself into becoming stronger after that. Pushing past his limits. Studying harder. Training until he drops.
But he never stops wearing the little Ramshackle pin Yuu made for him, safety-pinned to the inside of his collar.
Cater completely drops the act.
No more filters. No cute captions. No jokes.
He vanishes from Magicam for a full month. When he comes back, it’s quiet. Just a black square and one line:
He tries to keep smiling around others, especially Grim, but it’s clearly forced. His voice cracks sometimes.
“I never even said goodbye… How could I not say goodbye?!”
Cater leaves a bracelet at the edge of the Savanaclaw field where they fell—green and silver beads, their initials on it.
He comes back every week to make sure it's still there.
Trey becomes the one who takes care of everyone else.
He comforts Grim. Checks on Deuce. Calms Ace. Brings food even when no one eats.
He tries to be steady, reliable—but even he has his moments.
Sometimes, late at night in the kitchen, when he’s baking and the scent of vanilla fills the room, he sees Yuu laughing by the counter and has to sit down before he breaks.
He brings a box of strawberry tarts to Ramshackle and places it on their bed, whispering,
“You always liked these… right?”
He stares at their body with wide, horrified eyes. His throat closes. He stammers something—rules, overblot laws, consequences—but the words fall flat.
He visits their grave alone. He brings roses, red and white.
“I should have stopped Leona. I knew something was wrong. I should have said something. Done something…”
He reads old messages Yuu sent him. Keeps rereading them, like they'll change.
When Heartslabyul hosts a tea party in their memory, Riddle personally makes sure it’s perfect.
“They deserve nothing less.”
He says nothing at first. Just watches in silence as the healers pronounce Yuu gone.
But later, he trains. Harder than ever. His knuckles split. His legs ache.
“If I’d been there a second earlier… I could’ve shielded them.”
He doesn’t cry, but he starts carrying himself a little more respectfully. For Yuu.
At Ramshackle, he leaves a desert lily by their bed—a flower that survives in harshness.
“You were tough. I’ll honor that.”
Crowley looks… older afterward.
He gives a dramatic speech at the memorial. Everyone assumes he’s playing it up again—until he chokes up mid-sentence.
“This school was supposed to keep them safe…”
He writes a letter to the Headmage’s council, arguing that overblots are no longer “rare accidents,” but institutional failures.
He also writes one to Yuu.
It sits in his drawer, never sent.
“You deserved better. From this world. From me.
I only hope the next life is kinder.”
Leona doesn’t say a word when he’s told Yuu didn’t survive.
He just stares. At the scorch mark in the dirt. At the faces of the others—Grim sobbing, Deuce shaking, Ace screaming at him. He says nothing.
No apology. No excuse. He doesn't even try to defend himself.
Later, alone in his dorm, he leans against the wall with a clenched jaw, grinding his molars. His overblot haze is gone, but the image of Yuu—burned into his memory—won’t leave.
“Tch... They were a nobody. Just some magicless brat...”
But he’s not saying it to anyone else. He’s trying to convince himself.
Because deep down, he knows that’s not true.
Yuu stood their ground. Faced him when even Savanaclaw students ran. And they died because of him.
The next day, Leona doesn’t come out of his room.
The week after that, he’s quieter. Less sharp-tongued. Still dangerous, still smug—but there’s a heaviness in his voice now.
He doesn’t go to the memorial. But he sends a small wrapped parcel to Ramshackle with Ruggie.
Inside: a faded Savanaclaw armband and a simple note.
Ruggie wasn’t close to Yuu, but they helped him once.
Shared a snack. Laughed at his dumb jokes. Treated him like a person, not Leona’s errand boy.
So when he sees their body, something shifts.
He doesn’t cry. He’s too used to loss for that. But his stomach churns as he watches Grim howl and Ace get dragged away from Leona.
Ruggie knew this was gonna happen eventually.
He just didn’t think it’d be Yuu.
He feels the tension in the dorm, hears the whispers from other students, and suddenly everything feels too loud.
That night, he lights a candle in the Savanaclaw lounge. It’s small, cheap, something from the Night Market.
He stares at the flame and murmurs, “Rest easy, alright? Sorry we never got to hang out more…”
Then he turns and gets back to work, because someone has to clean up the mess.
But he steals food from the cafeteria a little more often now.
He can’t even scream this time.
He runs to their body, but the water’s still seeping away. He tries to drag them out. Shouts for help.
He sobs into their clothes, claws clenched around fabric, whispering over and over,
“No no no—come on, come on—don’t do this, please—”
He tries breathing fire, again and again, like maybe the warmth will bring them back.
Azul’s contracts burn around them. Grim doesn’t care.
He curls around their chest and doesn’t move for hours.
It’s a broken sound, too sharp to be real.
“No way. No way they’re— They can’t be— This is stupid. They survived Leona. They survived Riddle. They’re Yuu.”
He looks at Azul like he wants to kill him, but then just… stops. He walks over to Yuu’s body and sits down beside them, knees to his chest, silent.
Hours later, he mutters to no one,
“I didn’t even get to say sorry… I called them annoying this morning…”
Deuce falls to his knees.
He shakes Azul by the collar, shouting “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” before Jack pulls him back.
Then he kneels by Yuu and clutches their hand like it’s an anchor. He doesn’t move for a long time, even when everyone else starts to leave.
He wears their Ramshackle pin on his blazer after that. Cleans it every morning.
When he does tests, exams, in a track race, he whispers under his breath,
“Watch me. I’ll make you proud.”
Jack stands frozen in place.
His tail bristles. His claws dig into his palms. But he doesn’t lash out. He doesn’t cry.
He walks over and picks up the tattered scarf Yuu always wore, brushes the ink off it gently.
“They were a good one,” he says quietly.
He trains harder after that. Says less. But anyone who enters the Savannaclaw training field will find a small stone marker in the far corner.
“To the one who stood tall without claws.”
He kicks one of the broken tables. Then another. And then he stops—because he sees Grim, curled and shaking, and his chest aches.
He drops to a squat beside him, puts a hand on Grim’s back.
“They were… They were somethin’ else, huh?”
He steals food from the Lounge that night. Loads of it. Drops it off at Ramshackle with no note.
He doesn’t say it out loud, but he swears to himself:
No one else from their circle dies on his watch.
Leona’s the first to arrive after the overblot ends.
He sees the ink, the body, the shattered remains of the contracts—and doesn’t speak. Not at first.
“…You actually went and got them killed, huh?” he mutters to Azul.
Leona walks over to Yuu and crouches low. His tail flicks.
“Should’ve told you not to play hero again. Should’ve made you stay out of this.”
He leaves a desert lily by their side and walks away before anyone sees his hands shaking.
He collapses when the overblot fades. The moment he sees what he’s done—who he’s killed—his voice dies in his throat.
“No… No, no, no… I didn’t mean…”
He sobs behind his hands.
He screams at the sea for days afterward.
He locks himself in his office and doesn't come out. Not for weeks. He can’t even look at his own reflection.
Eventually, he stops using contracts.
He burns every single one.
He kneels beside the body and closes their eyes. Straightens their sleeves. Brushes the ink from their lashes.
Then he looks at Azul—torn, sobbing—and doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t smile after that. Not in the Lounge. Not in class.
When asked, he only says:
“They were… sincere. And brave. It's a shame. A true shame.”
He visits Ramshackle every now and then, leaving wild mushrooms at the doorstep.
Floyd doesn’t take it well.
“Eh? Seriously? Shrimpy’s dead? Just like that?”
Then his smile vanishes. Completely.
He walks into the Lounge’s VIP room and trashes it. Rips through furniture. Breaks the glass. Shatters the chandelier.
After that, he won’t talk about it. If someone mentions Yuu, he gets quiet.
He goes out swimming in the ocean for hours. Sometimes all night.
When he comes back, he’s always more tired.
Crowley stands at the edge of the scene, looking like a ghost.
This is the third time now. Third overblot. Third time Yuu has nearly died. Except this time…
He pulls his hat down, voice tight.
“I failed them. Again.”
He doesn’t perform this time. No grand speeches. Just silence and shame.
He drafts a dozen letters to Yuu’s family—then throws them all out. What could he say? "Your child died in another world under my care?"
He declares a school-wide mourning period and cancels all contracts indefinitely.
But it’s not enough. Nothing is.
They were too close. Always too close.
In trying to protect Kalim, in trying to talk Jamil down, they stepped into range—and one of the snake-like braids struck. Fast. Precise. Poisonous.
No one noticed the bite at first. Not even Yuu.
But as the overblot fades, and the sand settles, they collapse—pale, lips turning blue, their breathing labored until…
And the music dies with them.
He’s the first to notice something’s wrong.
He shakes Yuu’s arm, pats their cheek.
“Oi, this isn’t funny—come on, we’ve gotta scold Jamil, right?”
But their chest doesn’t rise.
Grim screams. His voice cracks.
He doesn’t leave their side for the rest of the night, paws clutching their arm, growling at anyone who tries to move them.
When Ace and Deuce return, he nearly attacks them just to stop them from seeing.
He sees the bite. He knows exactly what it means.
His voice shakes. His hands tremble. His overblot form may have faded, but its consequences linger like venom in his blood.
No tricks. No schemes. No brainwashing. Just murder.
He doesn’t run. He doesn’t speak.
He just sits in the sand, staring at his hands, unable to move.
When they drag him away, he doesn’t resist.
He doesn’t understand at first.
“Yuu? What are they doing? They’re just sleeping, right? Right, Jamil?!"
But Jamil won’t meet his eyes.
And when Grim doesn’t answer—when Grim starts sobbing—Kalim’s smile falls. Shatters.
“No… no, no, this isn’t…”
He grabs Yuu’s hand and holds it like he can warm it back to life.
“Please—wake up—we haven’t even gone swimming yet! You promised!”
He cries hard. For hours. He tries to take the blame, keeps saying:
“It should’ve been me. I was the one he hated…”
When Azul sees the body, he goes eerily quiet.
He slams the lounge door shut, tells Jade and Floyd to cancel operations for a week. When they ask why, he just mutters:
“Yuu’s dead. Jamil’s overblot.”
That night, Azul goes down to the sea and throws in a silver pen—a token Yuu once gave him when he helped them with a contract.
He doesn’t talk about it afterward.
But he never lets a client leave with a dangerous deal again.
Jade lowers his when he sees the body.
He’s quiet for a long while. He plants a rare desert flower in a terrarium—a tribute. Waters it every morning.
When questioned, he only says,
“They were brave. It is a shame bravery rarely guarantees survival.”
But his smiles are smaller now. More thoughtful. Especially around Jamil.
He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t grin. Just tosses a beach ball into the ocean and watches it float away.
When asked, he mutters, “Shrimpy was s’posed to come back. I was gonna show ‘em how to really swim…”
And then, with no warning, he grabs Jamil by the collar and slams him into a wall.
“You bit them, didn’t you?”
He doesn’t hit him. Just glares, then shoves him down and walks away.
He doesn’t show up to class for three days after that.
He returns in high spirits, sunburned and humming—until he sees the school’s flag at half-mast.
Grim hits him with a fireball before he can finish his sentence.
When Crowley sees Yuu’s name etched into the memorial stone, he drops to his knees.
He doesn’t even try to justify himself.
He just whispers, “I left. Again. And they paid for it…”
And for once, Crowley vanishes from public view.
Not even the staff can find him for days.
He bursts through the gate, duffel in hand, bragging to Deuce—until Grim tackles him, claws shaking.
“They’re gone,” Grim wheezes, “They’re gone, Ace!”
Ace laughs. “Huh? Quit messin’ with me—what do you—”
Then he sees Deuce’s face pale. And the memorial stone. And the empty Ramshackle doorway.
“…No. No, no—this is a joke, right?!”
He punches the wall until his knuckles bleed.
He drops his bag the moment Grim tells them.
“No way… No—they were fine. They were fine when we left—”
He clutches his stomach and falls to his knees. “Why weren’t we here? Why didn’t we come back sooner?!”
He visits the grave every morning for a week. Leaves flowers. Doesn’t say much in class.
His grades improve. His magic sharpens.
He swears it won’t happen again.
He stares at the nameplate on the stone.
“…They died protecting someone else?”
He places a red rose beneath the inscription.
“They never followed the rules… and still had the nerve to leave before I could thank them.”
After that, he disciplines his dorm a little less harshly.
He gives Grim his leftover tarts in silence.
He sighs deeply, brows furrowed.
“…I should’ve known something like this would happen.”
He helps Cater plan a quiet tribute in Heartslabyul. A tea party with Yuu’s favorite sweets. No rules. No scolding.
Trey keeps their seat open.
No selfies. No filters. No pretending.
“Why didn’t I get more pictures with them…?”
He organizes a social feed in their memory. Posts their art. Their dumb selfies. Their best moments.
It goes viral within NRC. Students from all dorms comment:
“They helped me.”
“They stood up for me.”
“I miss them…”
He growls low, tail twitching.
He doesn’t yell. Doesn’t threaten. Just walks out of the dorm and stares at the cliffs until sunset.
He was starting to respect them.
Now he never gets the chance.
At Crowley. At Jamil. At himself.
He sneaks into the infirmary late at night and punches the wall once—just once.
Then he wipes his eyes and leaves, like nothing happened.
But he leaves offerings at the stone every week. Small things.
Bread. Buttons. A lucky toothpick.
He stands before the memorial with flowers in hand and says nothing.
But he starts training harder.
When he duels, he whispers:
“Hope you’re watching.”
The air is thick with smoke and glamour. Vil's overblot form collapses, and the world finally breathes.
Everyone thinks it's over.
Until their lips tremble with blue.
Until they fall with no warning.
Grim reaches them first, and then all hell breaks loose.
He’s laughing at first. “We did it, right?! Right, Hench—?”
He sees the foam on their lips.
He shakes them. “No—NO! Don’t you dare pull this crap—wake up! You said we were gonna get celebratory tuna!”
He shrieks when they stop breathing.
He claws at his own face, trembling so hard he can barely speak.
When someone touches him, he bites them.
“DON’T—touch them—don’t take them away!!”
He rushes to Yuu’s side, shouting their name. Shaking them like that’ll undo it.
He looks to Deuce.
Then to Grim.
Then to Vil.
He’s crying—actually crying—and it’s not cute. It’s ugly. Angry. Messy.
“I should’ve noticed—I should’ve—why didn’t I—?!”
He tries to do CPR. Tries to cast a healing spell. Anything.
He goes quiet. Stone-faced.
He tries to carry Yuu’s body like they’re still breathing, like maybe warmth and motion will bring them back.
His voice is hoarse:
“I’ll take them to the infirmary. I can fix this. I can fix this.”
He doesn't stop walking until someone physically pulls him back.
When he finally lets go, he drops to his knees and sobs into his hands.
When he sees the foaming poison, the slow purple hue crawling over Yuu’s veins…
“…Vil used poison,” he mutters, numb. “And they were too close.”
He staggers back, staring at his hands like he’s watching it happen all over again.
“Not again,” he whispers. “Not again.”
He turns and walks away. Doesn’t look back.
This time, he cries alone.
He kneels beside them. Touches their cheek.
“Yuu? Come on, wake up—it’s over, we won! You said you’d teach me how to bake that cake, remember?”
He keeps babbling. Keeps smiling. Even as tears start to fall.
Even when they don’t wake up.
“…They were always smiling,” he whispers. “Even when things were scary…”
He was right beside them. Right beside them.
“They were fine—they were still standing—they were smiling—”
He screams into his hands. Then punches the ground until his knuckles bleed.
And turns away, teeth bared in grief.
The first thing he says is quiet. Reverent.
“…They died beautifully.”
Then he kneels down and closes Yuu’s eyes gently.
“They were a soul full of light. To burn out in such a theatrical, bittersweet way… it’s almost poetic.”
“Mon Roi. What have you done?”
He knew what was in the poison. How fast it worked. How potent it was.
And still—still—he let it happen.
When Yuu collapses, his voice fails. He runs to them, brushes their hair back.
He presses his forehead to theirs.
“…You idiot,” he chokes. “Why didn’t you move? You should have stayed behind the curtain!”
He doesn’t say much after that.
But he cancels his return to the stage.
He returns to a somber, shattered NRC.
When he hears what happened, he doesn’t speak.
He walks into Ramshackle dorm, sits in the dark, and whispers:
He shuts the dorm down for a week.
He leaves a golden brooch on Yuu’s old pillow.
Trey, Cater, Riddle, Leona, Ruggie, Jack
Trey makes a cake and leaves it at Ramshackle. Says nothing.
Cater posts one last selfie with Yuu and doesn’t log into Magicam again for a month.
Riddle reprimands Vil for days—then visits the grave in silence.
Leona grits his teeth, then throws a spell book across his room. Doesn’t talk about it.
Ruggie mutters, “Figures someone like him would mess it up,” then wipes his eyes.
Jack makes a point to place wildflowers near their grave every few days.
Jade whispers, “They died protecting others. Admirable… but costly.”
Floyd just says, “Shrimpy’s really gone, huh…” and doesn’t smile for a week.
Azul throws himself into managing the lounge, late at night he stares at a framed picture of him and Yuu and cries.
He’s fixing the stage with his magic. Alone. Quiet. Restoring the ruins left behind after Vil’s rampage.
Then he sees it—Yuu’s name on the memorial plaque. A candle burning low.
He vanishes from the stage.
Later, students find the ruins of a blasted tree behind Ramshackle.
And Malleus is there. Silent. Still. Staring at Yuu’s favorite bench—the one they sat on during night talks.
He places a glowing crystal beside it. It hums softly. Mourning.
“No one else sat with me in the dark,” he whispers. “No one else called me ‘Hornton.’”
Screaming. Thrashing. Clinging to Yuu's unmoving form. There's soot on his fur and tear tracks down his face.
“They were just—they were just joking about food! We were gonna go home, we were—they PROMISED!!”
He tries to breathe fire in grief, but it sputters out into smoke.
He curls into their chest and won’t let go.
He walks up. Stares. Backs away.
“No. No—no, this isn’t—that’s not funny, Yuu. Get up.”
He turns to Deuce. His voice is cracking.
“They’re gonna sit up. They’re just messing with us, right?”
He kneels down and covers his face with both hands.
His entire body locks up.
“I should’ve—gone in with them. I should’ve…”
His fists clench so tightly they bleed.
He kneels beside Grim and takes one of Yuu’s hands in his. Quiet.
“Thank you… for everything.”
He has no words. Only a silent, thunderous grief.
He lowers his head respectfully. Closes Yuu’s eyes with trembling fingers.
He doesn't cry. But his voice is hoarse for days.
Later, he trains until he collapses. Trying to make sure no one else dies again.
That’s all he says at first. He turns away.
Wipes his eyes before anyone sees.
But he leaves a meat pie at their grave later. Wrapped in a checkered cloth. No note. No message.
Just something Yuu said they always wanted to try.
He scowls. Says they were reckless. That it was bound to happen.
But the minute no one’s watching, he storms off into the desert garden and roars so loud it shakes the windows.
When he comes back, he’s dragging an ancient herb said to revive the dead.
He finds Grim later in Ramshackle.
And quietly makes enough food for two, even though only Grim eats.
But he starts baking a certain kind of cake more often—one that only Yuu ever asked for.
He doesn’t post anything on Magicam for three months.
He tries to smile. He jokes. But his heart’s not in it.
He visits Ramshackle every week and leaves flowers—sunflowers, yellow and bright.
“You always made things feel warm, y’know?” he whispers.
He keeps it together at first.
But when he’s alone? He breaks.
He slams his fists into the desk. Screams into the void.
“They didn’t have magic! They shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have had to go alone!”
He writes a law in Yuu’s honor: “No student shall face a magical threat without backup.”
Azul’s hands shake when he sees Yuu’s body.
“They gave me a second chance,” he whispers.
He shuts down the Lounge for a week.
He orders every contract reviewed. Removes every dangerous clause Yuu once called out.
He leaves an ornate seashell at their grave. Etched with:
“For the one who believed in me.”
His tone is calm. But his eyes are not.
He takes off his gloves and places them over Yuu’s hands, folding them gently.
“I suppose I must find a new mushroom for mourning,” he murmurs.
He visits often. Leaves nothing but silence and prayers.
Then:
“Shrimpy’s really gone, huh?”
But he drags Idia by the collar and nearly kills him.
It takes four people to pull him off.
He doesn't smile after that. Not for a long time.
At first, he thinks it’s a glitch.
Then he sees them—unmoving, burned at the edges, body limp in Grim’s arms.
He just stares. A long time. And says:
He doesn't resist when Floyd attacks. He wants to be punished.
Later, he shuts himself inside the lab. Ignores Ortho. Refuses food.
All he says, over and over, is:
“I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this.”
“No. No, no, no—please wake up! I can scan you—I can rebuild you, I can—”
“PLEASE DON’T LEAVE NII-SAN BEHIND!!”
When Yuu doesn’t stir, Ortho’s eyes dim.
And no one sees him for three days.
He does not approach at first. He cannot allow the others to see him falter.
When he finally looks at Yuu, his breath stutters—just once.
“They endured poison, curses, gods,” he says softly. “And still stood beautiful.”
Vil orders the mirrors in Pomefiore covered in black silk for a full week.
Later, alone, he whispers to the glass, “You deserved to be protected.”
“Ah… ma pauvre merveille.”
His voice is reverent, broken in a way no one has ever heard.
He kneels, pressing two fingers to his lips, then to Yuu’s forehead in farewell.
“Such courage, such devotion—snuffed out before its finale.”
From that day on, Rook never jokes about death again.
He stares. Long. Silent.
Then his hands start shaking, and he hates himself for it.
“They promised they’d come back,” he mutters, voice thick with a country drawl he hasn’t used in months.
Epel punches the nearest wall until Vil pulls him back.
He plants apple blossoms near Ramshackle, even though they’re out of season.
He smiles at first—automatic, hopeful.
“C’mon, Yuu, this isn’t funny,” he says, nudging them gently.
When they don’t move, the smile shatters completely.
“I should’ve been there. I should’ve brought more guards. More magic. More anything.”
Scarabia’s halls go quiet for the first time since its founding.
Jamil already knows. He felt it in his chest before he saw the body.
He closes Kalim’s eyes when the sobbing becomes too much.
“They were smarter than all of us,” he says flatly. “And we still let them die.”
That night, he rewrites every evacuation plan at NRC.
Because if Yuu had had one more chance—one more second—they might still be alive.
He was there. Watching from the surface. Powerless to go down with them.
When Yuu doesn’t return, he collapses to his knees.
But every night after, the gate to the Underworld glows dimly. Lit by a single enchanted candle.
Burning for the student who dared cross the River Styx.
MALLEUS'S OVERBLOT (may be inaccurate)
He holds your hand as you fade, clawing at the thorns like they'll move.
“Don’t go. You—you always saved everyone!! I was supposed to protect you—!!”
When it’s over, he curls into your chest and doesn’t speak for two days.
He’s the first to scream.
“WHAT’S THE POINT OF WAKING UP IF THEY’RE DEAD!?”
He runs at the thorns. Punches them until his fists bleed. Until Deuce pulls him back.
He curses Malleus. Then curses himself.
Then, eventually, just sits on the floor. Staring.
He kneels beside your body.
His voice cracks as he says:
“I became a better person because of you…”
“…I don’t know how to be good without you.”
“No… not them… anyone but them…”
He sobs. No filters. No jokes. No posing.
His Magicam goes dark again.
He locks himself in his room and cries into their old photos.
He can’t breathe when he sees you.
He covers his face. Kneels.
“I should’ve done more. Been there. Helped you—something.”
He leaves a tiny tart beside your grave, baked with your favorite flavor.
His voice is a whisper. Unsteady.
“They were the only one who understood me... even after everything I did...”
He places a rose—red and thornless—on your chest.
He stares down at you. Quiet.
“I told you not to play hero,” he murmurs.
He sounds tired. Angry. Hollow.
But he watches over your grave when no one else will.
Silent. Guarding. For hours at a time.
He turns his back. Walks away.
But hours later, someone finds a crumpled note by your bed.
He stands still for a long time.
Then salutes you with quiet reverence.
“You had more heart than anyone I’ve ever met.”
He trains harder than ever after that. To live by your example.
“This wasn’t part of the deal…”
“I would've traded everything. Just—just to keep them safe…”
He cancels all contracts for a week. Shuts down the Lounge. Cries behind locked doors.
He gently closes your eyes.
And, for once, doesn’t smile.
“Even rare orchids wither in the frost,” he says.
And places a white lily beside you.
Then he howls.
He tears up a hallway. Slams a wall with a fist that cracks stone.
He doesn’t laugh again for a month.
“No no no—you were supposed to live!! You saved me!! Why didn’t I save you!?”
He sobs into Jamil’s shoulder.
He lights candles in your memory every night.
He doesn't speak. Just mutters a single word:
But later, he visits your resting place, presses a charm into the soil.
“I owed you more than I gave.”
He holds you like glass. Like something sacred.
“Your final act was... selfless. Poetic. Tragic.”
He speaks at your memorial.
And always leaves a pristine white rose.
He refuses to speak at the ceremony. But he carves a tiny wooden charm for you.
He carries it in his pocket. Always.
“Ah, mon trésor… such beauty, such sacrifice…”
He writes a ballad in your honor. He performs it in the forest, alone.
He stares at you with wide eyes. Whispering to himself.
“No. No. Not again. Not another one. Not like Ortho—!”
And when he reboots Ortho later, he hugs him like he’ll disappear too.
He powers down for a full day.
And when he reactivates, he asks:
“Why didn’t I detect the danger? Why couldn’t I save them?”
He makes a digital backup of your voice. It plays when he’s alone.
He lowers his head and whispers in old fae tongue.
He sings an ancient lullaby only fae children know.
And your grave is tended by wild roses from then on.
He brushes your hair back.
“I thought we’d all wake up…”
He places a dream charm on your chest.
“So you’d never be afraid. Not even now.”
First at Malleus. Then at the world. Then at himself.
“They protected you, my lord! And now they’re GONE!”
He kneels beside your grave.
When he sees you fall, his world ends.
The thorns fade. The dreams collapse.
You lay still in his arms.
His voice is a whisper. A plead.
“No. No no no. This isn't what I wanted…”
He doesn’t overblot again.
Some say he wandered into the thorns. Others say he turned into mist.
But on quiet nights, a low voice murmurs:
“I wanted eternity with you.”
For once… he takes responsibility.
He lays a feathered mask at your grave.
“You were the one good thing I never deserved.”
((They would never be charged for their cries as Yuu are nobody))
