The Clueless Moose

I love kiznaiver it’s such a good concept lol it works so well with the chain imo! anyway some stuff of note is that:

(spoilers for kiznaiver btw!)

1. in the anime emotional pain is more overwhelming (to the point of incapacitation) than physical pain, which I think it’s interesting for the chain considering all the emotional baggage they all carry and how that can be a hindrance for the group in the long run

2. in the anime, there was a failed attempt of this experiment that let to one of the kids to feel ALL the pain (x8) and the others to be painless, which I think would be a great source of whump for the chain if like, they try to cancel the spell but it goes wrong :)

3. great source of whump considering that dark link would only need to grab one of them to cause pain to all the others and get the upper hand :)

4. how team dynamics would change, especially if this happens to the chain at the beginning of the quest, like how wild would need to be less reckless while fighting, how all of their “self sacrificing” habits would be a huge weakness during battle too and how they’d really have to trust each other

All color has fled his face, making the blue of his eye unnaturally bright, his markings breathtakingly stark. He looks all at once like a being from another world, a deity to be feared, and a small child shivering in the face of something too strong, too terrible to defeat with weapons and courage.

That is not at all how he had looked mere moments ago. That is not how he had looked when he had detected substance in nothingness; when his response to Twilight’s strained query was to shove him aside so ferociously the rancher’s shoulder had collided with the stone wall.

There had been no words. Only a gasp, harsh and sharp as a blade. Then, the whisper of metal penetrating wind, the dull wet shunk of it lodging itself within something alive.

“An eye for an eye as they say,” that cursed lizard had purred as he placed a clawed paw upon Time’s back, holding him with the gentleness of a father embracing his child. And Time had not even had the presence of mind to pull away. He had merely stood there, rigid, as beads of crimson cascaded gracefully down the shattered plates of his armor, trailed down his lips.

“You took something of mine. Now I have taken something of yours.”

Twilight’s throat still throbs from the scream that had torn free. His body still aches from the force with which he had hurled himself at the beast, the force with which it had propelled him away.

“Pup, ‘m sorry.” Time is shaking his head now. His words trip over themselves in their haste to make it past his lips. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me.”

“Shut up,” Twilight chokes. His tears are so hot that they burn his cheeks. Emotions war within his stomach. He is furious, he is anguished; he is confounded, he is sympathetic. “Shut up, Time.” He drags in a breath, suffocates on a mouthful of salt. “You-you need to save your strength.”

He wants to scream. Why? Why did you do it? Why did you save me?

But he knows the answer. He can see it written across Time’s expression. It is in the way he smiles – a courageous upturn of the lips. It is in the way he lifts his hand, places it on Twilight’s cheek.

In the wake of his near-demise, he had thought he was a disappointment. That Time believed him a disgrace. It is only now, at the end, that he sees the love.

And the fear that that love propels forth.

“You need to leave.”

Twilight blinks away the tears, tries to screw up his face into something resembling a scowl.

“No. I’m not leaving you.”

“Twilight – ”

“No!” He shakes his head so hard liquid flies and his bangs slap his forehead. “No! If you think after that I’m just gonna run, you don’t know me at all!”

“But I do,” Time croaks. “I do know you. And that’s why I want you out of here. A-away from him.”

He leans forward, hissing through his teeth at the agony of the movement, expression brimming with urgency.

“Go, Twilight! Get the others out of here. Get to safety. You need to, you hav-have to…please.”

The last word drags itself forth, desperation weighing it down. Twilight lets the sound of it stab deep into his chest. He looks around at the scene through blurred eyes, at the shreds of bloodied tunic melding with the gore that splotches the ground, at the weapons fallen uselessly, at the too-pale fingers that clutch his, a band of gold embracing one of them.

The next sob takes his heart and wrenches it mercilessly from him.

“No.” It is a whisper, high-pitched from sorrow and lack of air. He collapses forward. His forehead comes to rest on Time’s chest and the hero’s gasping hiccups of breath fill his ears.

“No, no, no! This isn’t it!”

A hand comes up and cradles his head. Once firm, now it shakes with the weight of pain. Twilight breathes in sharply, tasting blood and salt, smelling mold and decay, sugary sweet fairy dust and warm hay and the soap Malon buys from Castle Town.

“I was supposed to change it. This was my chance to change it. To not let you die.”

“You’re not letting me die, pup,” Time whispers. “I chose this path. Do not burden yourself with guilt that is not yours.”

But you will. The thought rushes in, dreadful in its steadfast truth. You’ll burden yourself with the guilt of everything you couldn’t do. Everything you think you ought to have done. And it’ll turn you into a lonely, heartbroken wraith.

Time inhales and the sound is the desperate gasp of a dying man, shallow as the stream that flows through Ordon. Shallow and strangled and thin.

“Twilight…”

“No.”

It seems the only thing he can say now, the only word his trembling lips are capable of bringing forth. It is such a bitter utterance, a word that is all harsh edges and sharp angles. It cuts him on the way out.

“Don’t...”

Don’t speak, don’t waste your breath on a goodbye.

“Please, don’t...”

Don’t leave me here alone, don’t leave Malon, don’t leave…

“Twilight, I’m so…so…proud of you.”

Twilight squeezes his eyes closed. He has dreamt of hearing these words, clung to them as priceless treasure when he has. But hearing them now is a death sentence.

“I’m sorry,” he hiccups through teeth gritted so severely his jaw aches. “I’m so sorry.”

Time cradles him to his chest. His chin rests atop Twilight’s head. His touch is not the firm, unyielding thing it has always been. His body is no longer the unrelenting rampart, capable of being fallen upon in a storm of emotion and never once breaking. Already it has begun to lose its warmth.

“Oh, pup.” It is a murmur, a whisper as soft as a fairy’s departure. It echoes in Twilight’s ears.

It is louder than the pound of his heart, louder than the sobs that tear out of him with feral, merciless violence….

Louder even than the sound of the door, screaming on its hinges, as Time’s chest lowers and doesn’t rise again.