The Modern Knight

xpeachlawx:

Despite having been crouched under her bed like the world’s most determined pervert, Peach did believe that he hadn’t entirely meant to just pop up while she was changing. Quickly holding her towel around her, she gave him a sympathetic look,

“I’m, uh………I guess I’m kind of good, kind of bad…….. Would you mind if I just duck into my bathroom to put on a shirt or something?…”

“Of course.”  He said, turning to face the opposite corner of the room.  “I’m glad to hear that you’re taking this better than I am.  Helps that you have someone to hug, I guess.”  There was a tiny hint of bitterness, but mostly sadness in that statement.

Welp, if she didn’t feel entirely awful before, she did now. Peach could feel the bitterness in his voice as she put on her shorts. As much as she was glad to be alive, she never wanted anyone to let anyone die on her watch. Alas, she’d already failed eight times now.

“I know I can’t comfort you effectively, but I want you to know something.”  He walked over to her, and tried to hold her hand, his phasing through hers.  “It doesn’t matter how many people have died.  You’re still a hero.  THE SHSL Hero, in fact.  As long as you keep your chin up and help some of the others get out alive, you’re still one of the strongest people here.  It’s always darkest before the dawn.  You can make it out of here.”  He said.

“But since I got Ohito and you together, you’d better name a child after me!  Or else I’ll haunt your blender and destroy any health drinks he tries to make!”  He joked, laughing.

Despite having been crouched under her bed like the world’s most determined pervert, Peach did believe that he hadn’t entirely meant to just pop up while she was changing. Quickly holding her towel around her, she gave him a sympathetic look,

“I’m, uh………I guess I’m kind of good, kind of bad…….. Would you mind if I just duck into my bathroom to put on a shirt or something?…”

Peach screamed as she heard Sir Michael’s voice rise up from under her bed. Her instincts had her throwing her make-up compact at him before she’d even registered who it was,

“S-S-SIR MICHAEL, W-WHAT THE HELL?!?!?”

She grabbed the bedsheets and covered herself with them, calmly explaining once she’d gotten over the initial shock,

“Oh, n-no, I mean, we both need s-space sometimes, I w-wouldn’t want to impose….Besides, I’d um….I’m….way too nervous to ever ask that of him….”

The compact went through him and hit the wall, making a shattering noise as the mirror cracked.  Sir Michael flinched HARD, before sighing.  “Ordinarily, I’d make a crack about it not killing you to ask, but in this situation...” He left it hanging, before he took a quarter from his pocket and started to grind the edge against the back of his hand.

“That was mean to you and Ohito, sorry.” He said, sniffling again.  He was visibly holding back tears.

Mike had hidden it well, but Alastor and Katsuki’s death had hit him harder than he had given off.  Even though the “naive, heroic, selfless paragon of medieval heroism” was gone, having faded into his mind, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he had failed to keep everyone safe, to make sure everyone got out.

To that end, he had decided to lay down somewhere he wouldn’t be found, hide, and cry.  He couldn’t do it in public, since Alastor, Katsurou, Katsuki, and even Ayato had more right to feel sad then he did. (That last part stunned him for a while)

He had decided to lay under Peach’s bed, assuming that A: She’d be snuggling with ‘Ohi-Nii~” and B: Ohito was way too nervous to come to her room, and she would be the one to come to his.  He didn’t care about their relationship, but he did hope it would create an empty room.

He simply walked through the open doorway, climbed under the bed, and started to cry, not caring who heard him and just hoping they wouldn’t initiate conversation.

Peach sighed as she walked into her dorm room and locked the door. She stretched her lycra suit’s neck in an attempt to free herself of the skin-tight heat she’d been dealing with since day one. Boy, she needed a shower.

Her wig slid off carefully while her fingers gently picked out the hair she’d bobby pinned down to make room for it. Her brunette tufts shook into place and Peach began to strip. First the stockings and shoes, then the gloves. It felt amazing to finally be able to wear something that wasn’t so skin tight.

He pointed at the metal ball bin. “Can you move this? There’s something under there,” he said. “I can’t exactly move it myself,” he noted.

“A-ah, okay?”

Ohito gave the bin a once-over. It didn’t look like moving it would hurt anything. He gripped the top edge and pulled. Considering it had wheels, it rolled easily enough, even if his shoulders were sore.

Beneath the bin was what appeared to be a full set of hopelessly mangled golf clubs. It was difficult to attribute their state to a poor game when blood was spattered on them.

Mike had been trying to investigate, though he was at somewhat of a loss of how to do so.  And five minutes in, he had hit a stumbling block.  He wanted to check under the ball basket, but couldn’t move it.

Michael’s voice made him jump. A little disoriented, it took him a minute to locate his dead friend and scuttle over.

“U-um?”

sirmichaelthebara:

He looked up, tears in his eyes.

“No… I’m not.  I fucked up, and now I can’t help anyone.  I can’t do anything useful, and its my fault Kamiko and Koume are dead.  You shouldn’t be wasting your time talking to me.”  He said, looking down.  “You’ve probably got better things to do, right?”  He asked.

Peach shook her head, “Dude, are you f*cking kidding me?!” Wow Peach, is that a swear?! “Sir Mi- Mikey, you’re my friend. Dead or not, I’m not letting you sit and sulk for however long you’ll remain here with us.”

She sat down next to him,

“Tell me what’s wrong and don’t you dare try to convince me it’s nothing worth worrying about. I’m not afraid to fight a ghost.”

“What?  I feel this way 24/7.  Have for years.  It’s not like one pep talk can cure depression that required medication when I was alive.”  He pointed out.  “It isn’t anyone’s problem, anyway.  Just mine.  It’s just...”

He sighed.  “I always figured that I’d die in my twenties, sacrificing myself to save people and make myself useful.  Instead, I died for nothing, and continue my streak of being unable to save anyone.  Worse than that, having memories I’ve been repressing for years just come rushing back and fundamentally changing my personality isn’t very pleasant.”  He said.

“Plus, I have to stick around and watch you guys suffer because my plan to help you escape didn’t do shit.  It just got the three of us killed.”  He said.  “It’s all my fault.”

For all of his anger, his hatred, his rage at how his life boiled down nothing, Mike soon found himself running out of anger and simply turning to despair. He was useless. He could never save anyone. He had only hurt people again and again. Everyone was laughing at him for denying the truth, and he deserved it. These and many other paranoid thoughts spiraled in his head as he wallowed in more and more self hatred.

“Please god… just let me vanish… disappear forever.”

He spent close to an hour trying to smash his own skull in and finding himself unable to, and he simply decided to find himself a wall where he could phase through and just hide inside of the wall, only his face and his folded arms sticking through the wall. He simply sat there, cursing and insulting himself as tears slowly ran down his face.

Peach just wanted a swim. God, she just wanted to swim, why was it so hard to do anything without losing faith in humanity? She had just gotten into her bikini once more when she spotted Michael…..was he crying? Oh jeez. Don’t do it. Don’t get all heroic.

Peach I’m serious.

No. Stop. You stop that, Peach-

She walked over , debating actually engaging with him at first.

No, don’t do it-

Oh my god.

“…..Sir Michael? Are you….Are you okay?”

“No, I do have to be sorry.  I fucked up and trusted that glorified electrician, and got both me and Kamiko fried for the trouble.  This is partially on me.”  He said.  “Figures.  I begin to let go of my delusions, and instantly get killed by a control freak.”  He chuckled bitterly.

“If I hadn’t been delusional, the three of us would still be alive.”  He added.  “This is on me.”

Calypso acknowledged the cynic behind the armor, so different from the man when he was alive. Briefly, she pondered if he was the same person. Surely she hadn’t only been his friends because of the way his delusions morphed his personality and way of life.

“I… don’t want you to blame yourself. It’s the danger of a hero complex, Sir Michael. Or, Mike. However you prefer. It’s a different light to view you in, certainly.”

She trembled at all of this, and even flinched when he glared at her. Whatever spark she’d had was extinguished, and now she was just a scared little girl again.

“…yes, sir,” Ayaka said softly, bowing her head. “I… I won’t bother you again, sir.”

With that, she turned and departed, shaking all the way, leaving nothing but ghostly tearstains upon the tile.