Hello There

A week ago, your tooth started to hurt, one in the back of your mouth. You noticed it when brushing your teeth one night, how swollen your cheek was, and more worryingly, how bad your molar hurt, wincing every time your toothbrush got close. As you leaned closer to the mirror, you carefully placed a finger in your mouth and poked at the area, instantly drawing your hand back as you groaned in pain, recoiling at the small droplets of blood mixed with saliva on your finger tip. You shook as you rushed to turn your sink on, rinsing your mouth out with water and groaning as you spit it back out, light pink and bloody. 

You knew then that you probably had a cavity, or more likely have had one for a while, but you were somewhat reluctant to go and get the doctor. You didn’t want to bother your grandparents so late at night, so you chose to stay up in quiet pain rather than actually do anything productive. You laid in your bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to pretend that you weren’t fighting back tears in frustration. The next morning, you rushed out your house and ran straight to the doctor, all but banging on his door. He barely even managed to get the door all the way open before you were begging him for help with the pain, surely waking up his poor neighbors in the process. You fumbled out the events of the night prior, surely forgetting some things with how sleep deprived you were, but even then the only thing he could do was give you some pain medication. 

“I’m not a dentist.” 

“But you’re a doctor!” Every word you exclaimed only proved to hurt you more, the pain powering through your frustration. As you sat in the man’s examination room, you wanted to shake him by the shoulders and get him to pull the tooth out right this very moment. “Why can’t you just remove it?” 

“Because that, sweet child, would give you nerve damage.” The man’s shaking body only proved his point, his hands quivering as he talked. It reminded you of your grandparents, and for a moment you felt a small pang in your chest. You only felt slightly bad for waking him up so early in the morning, instantly distracted by the throbbing pain in your mouth. The old man stands in front of you, clearly unmoved by your shock, shuffling as he writes down a number on a piece of paper. 

Now, hours later, you look at that paper with a pit in your stomach that nearly rivals the pain in your mouth. An address was sprawled sloppily across the paper, one for an out of town doctor. You’ve heard whispers about it occasionally, mostly when you were younger, about a doctor that lived in the Black Market. They’re known for taking care of pretty sick kids, along with doing some other stuff to humans, stuff that kids would talk about at playgrounds to make other kids cower in fear, the mere thought makes you recoil in a mixture of fear and disgust. You remembered hearing about doctors that would take sick kids and sell them to the Black Market. A small part of you would rather deal with the raging cavity, but a much larger part of you couldn’t handle it. There was a small comfort in knowing that the sweet old doctor wouldn’t purposely reference you to a doctor that would kill you, and even then, the Black Market was destroyed. If this mystery doctor was a crazy human killer, they would probably be in jail. 

Yeah…probably. 

You sigh as you lean back, head banging slightly into the seat behind you. You’ve felt as though you’ve been on the train forever, packed person to person for hours as you attempt to get into the city. You’re lucky you’re human, most animals offer you their seat out of some strange sense of kindness and fascination, so you haven’t had to stand for the long trip. 

You haven’t really left your town in a while, even after the promise you made to Legoshi. You’ve tried to, but every time you get to the bus stop you always reconsider. It’s as if there’s some force keeping you from leaving the town unless Legoshi or Haru is with you. It makes you feel bad too, because the trip both in and out of town takes forever. You have to take a bus to the nearest train station and then spend nearly three hours on multiple different trains. You don’t have the heart to make them come to you, even if they claim not to mind. And now, with everything Louis has on, he’s offered to drive you in and out of town, but the thought of being in a car with him for three hours makes you woozy. You’d rather suffer the stares and murmurs of the people on the train than have to deal with…whatever Louis makes you feel. At least Juno seems more than happy to visit you in town, and she gets along surprisingly with the others. You've always assumed it’s because she’s so sociable, but with how standoffish she was with you in the beginning, you wouldn’t have guessed she’d be so sweet. Though, she can’t visit as often now that she’s leading the drama club, so you’re pretty much on your own. 

Except now as you travel into town. You would be going in for your tooth, but since you can’t find any trace of the stupid address, you’re going to have to wait until later. Every few weeks, Louis makes a plan for you to meet up and have lunch together. It became tradition after Melon was imprisoned, mainly because Louis got worried about you not leaving your house for multiple months. You honestly didn’t like going most of the time, not necessarily because you didn’t like Louis, but because Louis was basically a different person now that he’s taken over his father's company. It was an open secret that he used some sort of connection he had to get the Shishigumi out of prison, and while you’ve attempted to ask him how, he’s always danced around the question. 

You also hate going into the city, becuase—well…it’s the city. While it’s way more common to see humans, even from other towns, come into the city, people would always assume that you were lost or looking for someone whenever you were alone, so you’ve always planned your meetups to ensure that you spent as little time alone as possible. 

As the train came to a halt, you slowly looked at the screen notification, it was your stop. You were really hoping the swelling in your mouth wasn’t too noticeable, because you really didn’t want to talk about it at all. 

“Why does your face look like that?” 

You weren’t even able to take a second to breathe, and Louis was already testing your patience. He stands tall right outside the stop, watching you as you step onto the platform.

You quickly turn to look at yourself in the reflection of the train window—it wasn’t that bad, but maybe Louis just wanted you to choke him. 

“I have a tooth ache.” You walk away before he can even respond, not that it mattered since he followed quickly after you. 

“A tooth ache doesn’t look like…that.” Louis’s voice was steady, almost amused as you stomped away from him

“Maybe humans just look this way, have you ever considered that?” 

He chuckles, standing besides you as you leave the station. Your eyes squint from the light, as you try to ignore the various eyes on you. “No.” He says, tilting his head as he smiles at you. “—I haven’t considered that. But granted, you’re the only human I know.” 

You cross your arms, giving him a straightforward look. “Well then maybe you should meet some others.” You said plainly, much to the chagrin of Louis, who simply smiled at your words. “Where’s Ibuki?” 

“Right here.” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin in surprise, if it wasn’t for Louis standing right besides you, you probably would’ve crashed into him. Ibuki stands behind you, unperturbed by your shock, raising his hand in a small wave once you look at him. You’ve always found it a bit weird how Louis makes Ibuki drive you two to and from his fancy house, since Louis can drive and all. Louis always sits in the backseat with you and talks with you as Ibuki drives. It kinda makes you feel bad, but the lion never seems to mind much. 

Sometimes you wonder if Ibuki feels bad for you. He treats you like a kid most of the time, different to how he treats Louis. Maybe it’s because Louis is his boss, but it always felt sad whenever Ibuki would look at you. You heard from Agata once that Ibuki was going to kill Louis at one point, but you’ve always thought there was more to it. You can’t really bring it up with either of them, so you’d rather just dance around it in the awkwardness rather than ruin the relationship they have. 

Even if you absolutely hate it. 

“...hey Ibuki.” Your shoulders sulk as you relax, raising a hand in turn. Almost instantly, his eyes drift to your slightly swollen cheek. 

“What happened to your face?” He sounded concerned, but it only served to annoy you more.

“It’s nothing.” You turn, finding your way to the black car parked a few steps away from you. You took Louis hand, and with little resistance, pulled him towards the vehicle. “Come on—let's go.” 

Ibuki followed, and thankfully, didn’t ask anymore questions about your mouth, even as you were in visible pain. You felt his eyes on you occasionally as you chatted with Louis, but you chose to ignore it, in favor of telling Louis about the part time job you’ve been working. Gosha recommended a kindergarten for hybrid children close to the Black Market. It doesn’t pay much, but since the Black Market has been shut down it’s been getting more positive attention, and you’re no longer stuck to working in the back. You’re really grateful that Gosha helped you find a job, but you can’t help but imagine Legoshi going to him and telling him how badly you’ve been struggling, Gosha taking pity on you in response. Even now, as you talk with Louis, you can’t help but feel like everyone just views you as this sad, friendless human that’s in need of help. No one sees you as a person, especially now, after everything has happened. 

Most of the Shishigumi treat you like you're a second away from breaking, and it sucks because you can’t even blame them. The marks, even if just metaphoric, of Melon are left everywhere, in the dwindling numbers of the organization, in the massive gaps in you and Louis’s conversations, in the marks that both him and Legoshi have to bear because of you. Maybe that’s why, even now after all of this, you can’t even accept their friendship as genuine, because there’s a part of you that knows it’s all some act. 

“You know, you don’t have to eat if you’re in pain.” You don’t know how long you’ve been staring down at the plate in front of you, but it’s felt like eternity with how much your mouth hurts. The stinging has moved from just your molar to the rest of your mouth, making it near impossible to even pretend to eat. You’ve told yourself it’s just salad, but even that’s hard with the pain. 

Louis' home was extravagant, but despite being in it many times, it’s hard to really associate him with this much wealth. He’s always been good at staying humble, but after his fathers death, humbleness changed to a sort of subtle pride. He flaunts his wealth, at least in your eyes, through minor acts rather than declarations. He, or rather Ibuki, drives you to his home in a fancy car, eats with you on his large balcony, and feeds you meals prepared by private chefs. He told you only once about his time in the Black Market, and you’ve always assumed that’s why his shows of wealth and status were always so minor, but lately, it’s felt anything but such. He bought you a new phone after yours broke, paid for therapy once Melon was arrested, and consistently donates money to your town. To everyone around you, it seems like a friend supporting someone through a bad time, to you, it feels like something much harder to describe. 

“I think the pain is making me hungry.” You say as you attempt to bite into what you think is a carrot, but hearing the crack makes you so sick you decide to forgo it entirely. Instead, you place your fork down and rub your cheek, trying not to seem too helpless. You pay no mind to Louis as he leans back in his chair, sighing deeply as he rubs his eyes. Maybe he’s tired from running…whatever business he runs. “I have a family doctor I can recommend you—” 

“I want to go to a human doctor.” 

“Any doctor is better than just wallowing in pain.” 

You shake your head. “You just don’t get it Louis, I—” You consider your words carefully. “—I wouldn’t really feel comfortable with an animal looking inside my mouth.” You motion towards your face, over emphasizing your last words as if your feelings were somehow obvious. Louis stares right at you, unmoving, arms crossed as you stare right back. You wish this feeling was easier to explain without sounding weird. 

You wave your hand, trying to ignore the thickness in the air. “Lets just forget the tooth for now—” 

“Ibuki can take you.” Louis stands suddenly, surprising you. He moves to stand near your end of the table. Suddenly, you’re keenly aware of the sounds around you, the wind more specifically. Louis leans down close to you, placing an arm on the back of your chair, extending the other out in front of you, motioning for you to stand. You do not. “He wouldn’t mind, the doctor isn’t far from here.” He offers. After a moment he speaks again. “I could bring them here if that works better for you—” 

“How are you and Juno, Louis?” Your eyes narrow, your posture straightens, and you stare right in his eyes. 

Louis falters for a second, the hand that grips the back of your chair tightening ever so slightly, but you still notice from the corner of your eye. “That’s none of your business—”

“Oh! Just like how this—” You point a finger at your mouth, before shoving it into Louis' chest, causing him to stumble back a bit “—is none of yours.” 

Louis moves, standing straight up, looking down at you with an unreadable expression. “I just wanted to help.” His words make you calm a bit, your shoulders sagging as you slouch back in your chair. 

“And I really appreciate it, Louis.” You slowly stand from your seat, coming close to him. You take his hand in yours, cold. It closes around yours right away. Looking back at him, his face is much softer, his eyes almost sad. “But I can’t keep letting you support me like this.” You didn’t have to say anymore for him to understand what you meant, his hand tightens, and he looks almost embarrassed. 

“I…like helping you.” His words are quiet, reluctant to even leave his mouth. It’s strange seeing a deer go from so intimidating to soft so quickly, it’s almost funny. “I like knowing you’re doing okay.” 

You quickly take his other hand. “I am Louis.” You give him a small smile, but he can’t help but give you a skeptical look. You hold his hands tight, “I am Louis. I promise.” 

He sighs, shaking his head slightly. You watch, his horns beautiful in the morning light. “I got it all handled, I’ll be all better soon, you don’t have to worry.” 

“I always worry about you.” You snort, letting go of his hands, which stay in the air for a few moments, before returning back to his sides. “Please let me know if it gets worse.” You nod.

“And I’ll send you my family doctor's contact information.” 

“Okay Louis.” 

“And Ibuki’s number” 

“Alright.”

“And schedule an appointment just in case—” 

“Don’t push it.” 

—

“You don’t have to take me to the train station, Ibuki, I’m going into town.” You say about halfway through the drive. This time, you’re allowed in the front seat, which only serves to make things more awkward.

Ibuki eyes you slightly, before humming, “is everything okay?” He asks with a low voice, clearly concerned. You give a small smile, trying not to wince in pain, which Ibuki clearly notices. It warms your heart knowing that he worries about you, but him and Louis are one of the same. They notice everything, and they do too much. You remember once when you visited Louis with a slight limb, Ibuki wouldn’t let you get in the car until you reluctantly explained how you fell down the stairs of your home and hurt your ankle. Or the many times when Ibuki would escort you through the Black Market, back when it was still standing. It was fine in isolation, but when the rest of the Shishigumi follow him, you just can't help but want to punch the lion over the head. 

“Yeah—I just have a doctor's appointment.” Not the complete truth, but you knew that if you told him you planned on finding Gohin and asking him for help, he likely wouldn’t take you. You haven’t really talked to Gohin in—a bit, but you’re pretty sure Legoshi is still on good terms with him, which is better than nothing. You didn’t know where this address is, and knowing the old doctor, it likely doesn’t exist after the Black Market’s destruction. But Gohin might, which again, is better than nothing. 

You hear Ibuki laugh a bit, which causes you to look at him. He smiles, it looks nice on him. “That’s good—I was worried I was going to have to get Louis involved.” You changed your mind, you hate his smile. “He’s always willing to send a doctor into your town, if that’s more convenient for you.” 

“I’m fine.” You huff, staring out at the car window. From the reflection, you can see Ibuki quickly glance at you. He sighs, pushing up his glasses, before speaking. 

“I know you’re not, necessarily a fan of how we treat you but—after everything you’ve been through—” 

“You mean Melon.” You interrupt, annoyed and frustrated, your mouth radiating pain, Ibuki continues. 

“After everything you’ve been through—it’s for your own good.” Ibuki’s voice sounds distant in your ears, you’re not really listening, instead way more focused on the fabric of your sleeves, picking at the stray treads over and over and over and over—

There’s a long pause before Ibuki starts talking again. “I’ve always felt guilty for what he did to you, I should’ve done something to stop him, and for that I’m immensely sorry.” His voice is low, you don’t even feel the pain in your mouth anymore. You don’t like to think about what the others were doing when Melon was their boss, if they knew what he was doing and just chose to turn a blind eye, or if there was nothing they could do. You didn’t like thinking about it at all.

“So please, if something is wrong—anything, please tell me.” You hadn’t even noticed that Ibuki had stopped, but once he looks directly at you, you have no choice but to nod. 

“Bye, Ibuki.” You say quietly. “See you soon.” 

He smiles, watching as you leave the car. “See you soon. 

—

You stand in a secluded park, luckily the sun was going down so there weren't many people around, mostly just small children with their parents, who were clearly too tired to care about the human sitting a few feet away from them. You hold your phone close to your ear, your foot tapping quickly as you listen to the ringing. It rings, and rings, and rings—

“Legoshi—”

“Huh?” You hear the sound of someone saying your name, causing you to groan as you throw your head back in exhaustion.

“Hi, Gosha.” You try to sound anything but irritated, taking through gritted teeth as you stare up at the sky. “I was trying to talk Legoshi, if that’s possible.” You mumble out the last three words in embarrassment. 

“Oh, Legoshi came to visit me today, with Haru! They’re not here right now, honestly I don’t know where they are, I think I lost them…” You want to die. “—I think they’re around here somewhere, if you're willing to wait. I can give them a message though?” 

All you wanted was to ask Legoshi where Gohin would be, that’s all you wanted. “No, Gosha, I’m good, thank you though.” You say quietly. 

“Are you okay? You sound quiet.” You want to throw your phone into the ocean. 

“Yep.” You nod to no one in particular, your eyes devoid of light. “I’m perfectly fine.” It’s almost like you’re trying to convince yourself the same thing. You place a hand over your cheek, which shoots back instantly as you bite your tongue to drown out the pain. 

Gosha was always really good at reading people, it’s probably where Legoshi got it from. You kinda hated it to be honest, whenever you’d show up to work it was as if he was interrogating you, asking you how you slept and how you ate and how you're doing at home. You tried your hardest to be a good sport, because Legoshi never failed to let you know that he also was concerned for you, but all you wanted was a moment of peace. 

“Legoshi told me that you’ve been going into town more often.” Legoshi needs to shut his mouth. “That’s really good, I’m proud of you.” 

“Thank you, Gosha.” 

“I don’t want to overstep but if you ever need someone to talk to—” 

“I know Gosha, I know.”

You hear him chuckle, which does cause you to smile just a bit, before other voices start to get louder, making your eyes widen with hope. “Oh look, Legoshi!” Gosha yells, “Here he is, you have a good rest of your day, (Y/n).” Gohin says before handing the phone off. 

“Hm—(Y/n)? What’s up, are you okay—” 

“I’m fine!” you all but yell, exhaling quickly as you avoid the gaze of a curious child and a very concerned parent. “I just wanted to ask if you had Gohin’s address, like his current one?” You resumed tapping your foot, sitting up on the bench as you waited for Legoshi’s response. You heard Haru over the phone, asking if it was you, but you couldn’t focus on that. 

“I think he works at a university now, I'll text you the address, is everything okay?”

“Legoshi, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” 

Letting out a sigh of relief, you stand up quickly. “Tell Haru everything okay, talk to you later, Legoshi!” 

“Wait—” 

—

You were surprised that the address Legoshi sent you was correct, Gohin worked at an actual hospital. It was kinda surprising, but he always seemed like a smart man, and you definitely weren’t going to complain now. 

It took you longer than you wanted to find his office, taking a few seconds to decompress before raising a hand to knock on his door, which opens before you’re even able to make contact. You look up, seeing the giant panda staring down at you, unsurprised. 

“Legoshi texted me.” He said, opening his door wide and letting you enter his office. He groaned as he sat down at his desk, papers scattered everywhere, very different from his old office. It was nice, though. You sat across from him, reclining into the chair for a few moments. 

You watch Gohin open his mouth, “if you’re going to ask about my cheek, I have a cavity, that’s why I’m here.” 

“I’m a therapist.” Gohin states plainly. 

You roll your eyes, reaching into your pocket and taking out the slip of paper your doctor gave you. “I know that.” You slam the paper down on the wood, scooting closer to his desk. “I need to find this doctor, and I thought if anyone might know where they are, you would.” Your voice becomes smaller as you talk, slightly slurred from the swelling. “I know it’s a longshot but—” 

“Kid, you’re good, don’t worry.” Gohin takes a paper of his own, scribbling something down. “I’m pretty sure they moved to an alley clinic close to here—they’re human so it’s the best they could do.” 

You smiled, taking the paper from him quickly. “Thank you so much.” Gohin nods, a small smile on his face as well. You move towards the door quickly, before Gohin interrupts you, calling your name. 

“You sure you’re doing okay? Legoshi said you were acting weird over the phone.” You roll your eyes for a second time 

You look back at him, trying to put the strongest face you have. “I’m doing fine, Legoshi thinks I’m acting weird.” You huff, “actually, I don’t know why everyone keeps asking me if I’m okay, because other than the tooth that needs to leave my mouth right now, I’m fine.” 

Gohin puts up his hands in false surrender, unfaced by your frustration. “I don’t think it has much to do with the tooth.” 

“Then what does it have to do with?” Gohin stands up from the chair quickly, his hands flat on his desk. You try your best not to seem nervous. “It’s barely been a year since everything has happened and you’re expecting everyone to move on while you clearly haven’t.” He sounded frustrated, at you, at the situation, you didn’t know. 

“I have moved on!” You yell back, moving back from the door and towards Gohin. “But when everyone treats me like I’m on some verge—” 

“Because you are, (Y/n)!” Gohin exclaimed, “You could’ve been killed, and when everything finally settled you disappear for months, no one knew what was going on with you!” Gohin pauses, breathing heavy. “And now, here, and you’re expecting everyone to act like nothing happened to you.” 

You stare at the ground, and for a moment, you consider just leaving, before you feel a strange taste in your mouth. 

“Gohin.” You take your hand and place it near your lips. “I think I'm bleeding.” Gohin instantly moves over to you, moving your hand and squeezing your face, making you open your mouth. There was a moment in your life when you liked how much Gohin knew about humans, now it just makes you feel weird. He stares inside your mouth with an intensity that would make you embarrassed if it wasn’t for the blood gushing out your mouth. It dribbles down your lips and onto your chin as your chest rises and falls quickly. 

“You bit your tongue.” He says coldly. You thought it was from your tooth, so that's good. But the blood feels heavy in your mouth, trying to close it only prompts Gohin to squeeze your cheeks harder, keeping it open. You try to swallow some of the blood that pools near your tongue, but it only hurts your tooth more, the pain only increased by Gohin’s hold on you. Eventually, his hand retreats, and he moves around his desk to pull out a first aid kit. Rubbing your cheek, you feel the impressions of Gohin’s claws on you, but you try not to focus too much on it. You watch as he pulls out a piece of gauze, handing it to you and watching as you stuff it in your mouth. 

You don’t speak for a bit after that, not like you could, but your silence mainly came from embarrassment. You knew that Gohin was right, you pushed people away, and now you don’t want to acknowledge anything that happened. It hurts thought, because even now, months later, Melon still haunts you. Everyone assumes something bad is going to happen, that you’re going to go back to how everything was not so long ago. They don’t believe that you’ve changed, and no matter where you go or who you talk to, it’s as if they’re waiting for a pin to drop and for everything to explode. It makes every interaction exhausting, knowing everyone is walking on eggshells around you. You just—

—Want a break. 

Your shoulders sag, you take one final look at Gohin, who sits back at his desk with a solemn expression. You attempt to speak, but the gauze prevents you from doing so. Instead, you raise a hand and give a small wave, one he doesn’t reciprocate. 

It’s been a long day. 

—

You eventually did find the doctor, who was a human, thankfully. They were pretty young, but they felt older than they seemed, with eye bags and wrinkles and a deep voice that told you they’ve been through some stuff. Their office, which was out of the way, was actually pretty quaint, and was designed like a pediatricians clinic, which made you feel a bit more comfortable about them drilling into your tooth. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, but they said it was because the tooth was long gone. Before you knew it, you were out of their office, the sun down and night covering the city. You didn’t even realize how late it had gotten, the trains likely stopped running a while ago. You step onto the sidewalk, realizing how empty it is, before taking out your phone. You don’t know who you planned to call, but you’d figure something out. 

But then, you heard a horn, and when you looked up, you saw Gosha in a truck, smiling at you as he waved you over. You took a few small steps towards the vehicle, clearly confused. “Legoshi wanted to make sure you got home okay.” Gohin likely messaged him, and you didn’t even have the energy to react. The doctor gave you an ice pack, which you held to your face tight as you got into the truck. Gosha waited until you were buckled up before he started driving. 

“I thought you sounded a bit weird over the phone, your mouth okay?” You nodded, too tired to respond verbally. It seemed like enough for Gosha, who continued talking. “I mean—I didn’t want to overstep, but when Legoshi came to me I just wanted to make sure you were okay, y’know.” 

You hum in response, the ice pack melting down your arm. 

“—And I think it would be good for you to come visit us more!I know you and Legoshi hang out a bunch but I’d like to see you, and I know Haru would too.” 

You hum again. 

“I know…everything hasn’t been great lately, but you’re really getting better. The kids really like you—” For the first time in a few hours, you smiled. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you liked your job, and you liked taking care of those kids. “—And you’re—you’re not staying away from everyone.” He takes another quick look at you “I’m proud of you, we all are, y’know that right?” 

You hum again, watching the sights outside the window. 

You didn’t really talk much after that, reaching your town quicker than expected. Gosha made you promise you’d come and visit soon, and you agreed, even though you wanted to do anything but that. You watched as he drove away, declining to let him walk you home, disappearing after a few seconds. Making the short trek home, you were finally able to let out a deep sigh, ignoring the mess in your living room that you haven’t cleaned in months, and finally reaching your bedroom. 

You feel a few tears fall from your face, whether from the numbness in your mouth or the overall exhaustion you felt in every inch of your body, you couldn’t tell. You crash onto your bed, refusing to change out of your clothes as you engulf yourself in your blankets. You just wanted to rest, close your eyes, and never wake up. But of course, the moment you did, you heard a ping from your phone. You open your eyes just a bit, reading the message. 

Jack: Are you still cool to meet up tomorrow?? :)))) 

---

I compare Brooks backstory to Sanji's, were these characters backstories already great? Yes. Am I complaining that we got more for both these characters? No.

The snow stretches on for miles, a white sheet that blankets over the vast forest, casting everything in a bright, unyielding sparkle that looks almost beautiful. It glimmers, wet and clear, shining in the sun that is somehow so bright despite the curtain of clouds decorating the sky. Snow pours endlessly from them, it has for five years, and for those five years, you’ve traveled this same path, tracing your fur covered fingers on the sides of cliffs, finding your way around the Wildwoods. 

The snow rains down, the only reprieve coming from the thick trees high above you. The leaves and branches act as a buffer, allowing you to move easily during these trips. Preferably, you wouldn’t have to come back here at all, but with Fimbulwinter, you have no other choice but to make the journey to and from. Even with Ragnarok imminent, these woods provide. They provide you food, rabbit and deer that use these very woods for their own reprieve, and shelter, though rarely. Caves scatter the forest, becoming a common place for raiders. You can’t help but feel some sympathy for them, for they are like you, trying to survive. Occasionally, you’ll catch a few on a hunt, watching from the thicket as they move about ungracefully, searching for game and forage, before they disappear into the endless snow. Their numbers are dwindling, the thought makes you pause. 

Your eyes drift behind you, there lays a deer, dead, tied onto your sled that you’re forced to pull. You let out a breathless laugh, if only you were graced with the power to talk to dogs, then all the mutts in the nine realms would be forced to drag your food for you. As if paying for your sardonicism, the rope over your shoulder begins to slip, forcing you to sling it back over with a groan. It breaks the quiet noise of the woods, somehow making you keenly aware of your situation. You’re almost home, you remind yourself, ignoring the pain in your shoulder. 

You pull your face covering higher up, blocking the lower half of your face from the elements as you continue to move. One hand holds the rope, the other moves back to the cliffs, tracing your memory back to the cave that’s become your home. It nearly makes you laugh, home, you haven’t had a home for years. The thought makes hold on the rope nearly falter, but you refuse, pulling it impossibly tighter as if somehow it will keep you from remembering. You know you can’t remember, not because you’ve forgotten, but because thinking of your home means forgetting what’s currently at hand. Fimbulwinter, Ragnarok, survival, it all matters more than hopeless memories. 

You trace the cliff side until you feel your fingers reach a familiar ridge, forcing you to a halt. Your shoulders sag, the rope dropping from your hands as you let out a deep sigh. Your face covering blocks your breathing slightly, but it doesn’t concern you, a sense of calm washing over your entire being in that very moment. Wasting no time, you crouch down to untie the deer, twisting and turning at the knots with a repetitive precision. The motions are second nature to you, five years of back and forth journeys between the depths of the Wildwood and your cave, five years of sneaking around their home, pretending as if it doesn’t exist. Five years of keeping your distance from the stave, from their feud, from their grief. 

You can’t move any quicker away from the deer, the knots coming loose as you ignore the aching feeling in your chest. Bury it down, you tell yourself. Stay strong, a voice says, a voice like your mother and your father, like Kratos and like Faye, off all the people who have left you and forced you to be strong all for nothing. They don’t just echo, they stick in your head, stay strong, stay strong, stay strong—

You let out a sharp cry, falling to the ground suddenly, your chest heaving as warm tears race down your face. The boulder blocking the cave has been moved to the side, but you barely process the fact as you sit in the cold aftermath. Your tears warm you, they offer you a small comfort, before eventually falling onto the snow. Your face stares, emotionless as the tears join the frozen ground, becoming one with all the nature around you. It’s as if your tears themselves have become one with the birds in the sky and the critters in the forest. The thought calms you in a way, grounds you, steading you as you rise slowly. You move back towards the deer, ignoring the thoughts in your head about what it might be feeling, or if it felt anything at all, and slinging it over your shoulders. It weighs heavy on you, but you endure.

As you place the animal down into the safety of the small cave, something loud in the far distance scares the birds, they caw and fly away from the woods. You wait, counting the seconds, before hulling the stone and covering the entrance. 

—

The knife tares into the tick hide of the deer, its fur cold, small snowflakes decorating its body miscellaneously. They form endless shapes, ones that glitter and disappear in an instant. It’s skin nearly peels open, it’s blood already drained, what lays inside of it already ripe for the taking. 

“Wait.” A stray hand stops, pausing close to a fleshy intestine. “You have to pull the hide first, continuously, so that it stays intact.” The woman says. She sits near you on the forest floor. Colorful leaves decorate the ground, light patches of mushy snow sticking to the ground, mixing into the dirt and creating this gross sludge that sticks to your clothing. The woman, who sits uncaring on the sludge, watches as you huff, your hand moving away from the deer’s insides and towards the hide of the animal. Your fingers grip the sides of the fresh cut, your blunt, dirt caked nails dig into the fur and you begin to pull, pull with all your might. The hide peels, not quickly, but clean, separating from the rest of the muscle after what feels like so much pulling. You pant, and for a moment you wish you could peel off your own skin if it meant keeping the sweat off you forever. But then you look up, and you see the woman smiling, and you smile too. 

She takes your knife from you—you let her, cutting along the meat and intestine in careful precision. You’ve always wondered how she does it, how she knows where to cut and what to cut, what to keep and what to throw away. She doesn’t look old, not like mother did, but she knows so much. She knows so much about these woods, how to map out the depths of the forest without any markings. She claims the forest itself is the markings, that the songs of the birds and the crossings of the branches leave enough traces to find your way through. The stories she spun always seemed like too tall a tale to believe. Even so, you’d find yourself journeying to the edge of your home, to where the trees grew too tall and gathered too thick, trying to make your way through to the opposite end. You’d do as she told, trace your hand along the tree bark, trying to find the familiarities in the shapes and curves, trying to remember the endless routes you could possibly take, inchinging seemingly deeper and deeper, only to find yourself back at your cottage. The first time you failed, a wave of embarrassment washed through you. The recent times, you’ve come to expect the outcome. You never told her, keeping your failures to yourself, but when she’d return to you, she’d always have a look on her face that told you she found your attempts amusing. 

Her knowledge of hunting was outmatched by none, though you had little to compare to. Your father once tried to teach you how to hunt. One morning in the early winter, not too long ago, he took you from your bed and brought you deeper into the forest, further than you’d been at the time. You barely could keep your eyes open, feeling the bumps and turns as he carried you through the trees and into a small clearing. It was there when he placed you down and put a knife in your hand. The weapon was too big for you, your fingers barely wrapping around the handle, but you were so afraid of disappointing him. You kept your grip tight, watching in quiet horror as your dad took his bow and watched as a deer and her child entered the clearing. It was so quiet that morning, and it was even quieter when the deer fell, the poor fawn crying as its mother bled. You couldn’t tear your eyes from the snow, the blood turned so much into a pink sludge. But it was when your father pushed you forward that you realized why he put that knife into your hands. 

You remember he told you that this was how life was, that things die. It’s our job to honor those deaths faithfully, he said, wrapping his larger hands around your shaking ones. He held them tight, looking at you with such a calm and caring look, but it felt hollow somehow, as if he was miles away while you were trapped here. In these moments, we honor our living creatures by not allowing them to suffer. The animal wasn’t dead, your eyes widened, and you became keenly aware just how much it was twitching. You wanted it to stop, that was all you wanted. 

Your father took your hands, wrapped in his, rose the knife up, and plunged it down in the deer's neck. 

Not too long later, your father died. 

You found him next to your mother, strung up on a post in a cave. You’d never seen a dead body before, only knew what happened because your mother told you. She told you stories of raiders that were killed, bravely in combat or by their own foolishness. When you refuse to fall asleep, she’d tell you how they would come back as Hel-Walkers, thirsting for the glory they never received in the living, spooking you with promises that the men and women would rise from the dirt below and tear you limb to limb, that their green skin and hollow body would rush towards you and force you into the ground with them—that is if you never fell asleep. 

When you found them that day, their skin wasn’t green. It was sickly pale, like the pale you see in an illness, one that hurts, one that signs the end. Your mother told you stories of your old home, a village surrounded by hills. You never remembered a time before your small cottage in the Wildwoods, but your mother spoke of it with a reverence you rarely saw. Tales were whispered about the home she once had, one with her father and her mother, the home where she met your father, the home where she had you. She’d always tell the story the same way, telling you how she watched her own father build the home for her and her siblings, how they all shared a bed together and slept near the hearth, smelling the remnants of the day's meal as they drifted off to sleep. Her voice would slip into a soft whisper as she told you about your father, about how she fell for him at first sight, and how she carried you with so much love you came out huge. The story would always end with awkward silences and quiet tears as your mother choked out muffled words you could only rarely make out. Some days it was sickness, others it was plague, but at some point you knew, and that was enough for you. 

In that moment, staring up at the two, you wondered if your grandparents looked the same way when they were dying. If their skin peeled off and began to blue, freezing in the cold. You didn’t know if the village was cold, but everywhere in Midgard was. You assumed it was the same. You wondered, if when your mother watched her parents take their final breaths, she felt as hollow as you did. You wanted to weep, you really did, but you didn’t have any more tears left in you. Too many were shed for the dears, and for the parents you mourned in the days that passed without them, and for the journey it took to find them. It wasn’t their fault that they left, they didn’t pray for the storm or expect the lack of food, nor did they know to expect the raiders traveling through cover of the snow. What they did know is that they had a child, and that they’d protect that child even if it meant death. 

Perhaps now you can think of that day more clearly, perhaps you’ve had no choice. The day eventually became night, and the night eventually became day once more, and your parents were still dead, burned and turned to ash as you knew must be done. Your stomach still roared for food, your body still urged for protection, and as if nothing had happened at all, life went on. 

Perhaps you did cry that day, perhaps you screamed and begged for them to come back, but that doesn’t matter now, because life moves on. 

The woman finished carving the dear, placing it on a thick piece of wood near the cottage. She hulls it easily, plopping it onto the blood covered wood unceremoniously. The stump is deep red, the groves in the fibers soaked in old blood from previous kills, ones you tried to carve yourself, ones you failed, before meeting Faye. You always found Faye strange in a particular way, something you couldn’t exactly place. Strange in the way she simply showed up one day, in the section of woods you now dub “yours”, with a basket of forage you couldn’t help but ogle at. She caught you fishing, judging your form and supposed “savagery” as you attempted to catch the fish with your bare hands. You were so caught off guard, appalled at the random women’s injection, that you barely reacted at her trekking into the shallow water, standing close to you. Not even a second passed before she reached into the water and pulled out a fish so large you fell into the river below in shock.