#mirou

A/n: your wish is my command. I wanted to change some parts in it. I liked the idea.

Enjoy

Eleceed Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The training ground was a blazing spectacle. Molten metal arced through the air in bright, sizzling streams—fire and metal entwined like a deadly dance.

Greg and Mirou stood side by side, watching with incredulous eyes.

The girl was a teenager—roughly eightteen, Hair molting and pouring lava,burning the ground.Her eyes, a fierce gold, reflected both heat and steel.

She slammed a molten iron rod into the ground, the impact sending sparks flying and the earth steaming.

Pissed off was an understatement.

But when wasn’t she pissed off? Like her dad-no...even worse, she ran hot — boiling temper, zero patience, and a personal space radius measured in lava meters.

Molten metal hissed and bubbled in rings around her feet. Smoke curled upward like a warning sign. Her glare could’ve melted reinforced steel. Steam coming from her nostrils as he angrily looked around.

Mirou crossed his arms, letting out a long sigh. “So… what happened this time?”

Greg didn’t look away, watching their daughter rage like a volcano ready to level a city. “She couldn’t master the technique I taught her. Got mad at herself for not getting it on the first try.”

Mirou raised a brow. “Again?”

Greg gave him a look. “She’s consistent.”

Down in the training pit, their daughter practically stomped through fire, surrounded by a landscape of scorched training dummies and half-melted metal bars. She looked like a literal dinosaur born in a blast furnace — molten plates forming along her spine, lava-like flames dancing off her arms.

Greg’s disciples had clearly seen this before. Two of them calmly rolled out the emergency hose, pointed it at her, and let the water fly.Her hair went from lava to obsedian. Unruly dark hair tinged with copper highlights that seemed to shimmer like embers.

FWOOOSH—HISSSSSS. Steam erupted around her like a geyser.

She didn’t flinch. Just stood there, arms crossed, lava sizzling down her boots as if the water offended her personally.

Finally, she turned toward her parents — both of whom gave her a small, encouraging smile.

She raised one brow. Folded her arms tighter. Then leaned on one hip with the kind of teenage audacity that could set off a second apocalypse.

“Oh what, now you’re proud?” she barked, voice echoing through the smoky pit. “I nearly burned down your dumb training field.”

Greg just shrugged. “Eh. We’ve rebuilt worse.”

Mirou nodded thoughtfully. “Once, Greg sneezed and took out an entire hangar.”

“...That was one time.”

She huffed, still smoldering. “Well maybe don’t act like it’s fine. I’m not some prodigy, okay? I suck at this!”

Greg grinned, not fazed at all as he slided down towards the tame lizard “Took me five years to master that technique.”

“Then why’d you teach it to me like I’m supposed to get it in five minutes?!”

“Because you’re smarter than me,” Greg replied simply. “Also louder. You complain twice as much as I ever did.”

She made an outraged noise. “I do not! I just—ugh!” She kicked at a chunk of slag, sending it skittering across the field.Greg came and placed one large hand on her back with a smile.

Mirou sighed, stepping closer with a small smile and place her hand on one shoulder and pushed some wet strance away from your face. “Look. You’re strong. You’ve got instincts. But you’re still figuring out how to forgive yourself when you mess up. That’s part of it, too.”

But the glow around her dimmed. Just a little.

Greg and Mirou shared a look—quiet, knowing—and then moved in with terrifying synchronicity.They each planted a kiss on either cheek.

SPX: Mwah. Mwah.

Her entire head promptly burst into flames.Not violently—just a controlled, dramatic whoosh, like someone lit a firework on low simmer. The flames curled around her face like a crown of pride and protest.She stood frozen, arms still crossed, lips pursed in disbelief.

“…Seriously?” she muttered, voice strained with the effort to seem unbothered. “You guys are the worst.”

Steam hissed from her shoulders. A few sparks leapt from her hair.

“Your hair’s on fire,” Greg said cheerfully.

“I know, dad.”

Mirou leaned back with a smirk. “That’s how we know you liked it.”

“I’m literally smoldering out of spite,” she snapped.

But she didn’t stomp away. Didn’t yell. Just stood there in a slowly dying halo of fire, glaring at the ground like it owed her an apology.

Passive-aggressive combustion: their daughter’s love language.

Ayyy so ive been working on finding a project i could work on thats low effort enough not to cause my hand more damage. Worked on a concept way indulgent. what if the warriors of hope (from that one game) were real kids and the WOH were their self inserts they roleplayed online. and now they're all grown up. had to do something with all that stupid dr knowledge in my head

Spoilers ahead!

multi year custody battle just won.