the honkai beast roared at the fiery valkyrie. her hair fallen from its usual style and singed at the ends of them, her body covered in cuts, bruises, and her own blood. himeko still stood tall, greatsword in hand, and refusing to move against the honkai that still lived. she wouldn't let herself fall if this thing was still alive in front of her.

she gripped her sword with fury. her blood boiled angrily as the beast stood before her to once again attack. you watched from the side, weapon held in your hands that still felt heavy with you.

would you let this battle end with himeko dead?

the beast moved its tail, its main weapon it seemed. the thing had a heavy spike at the end and was a large tail overall. if the honkai slammed it down on himeko then she'd be crushed by it immediately. the beast thrust its tail forward, hoping to impale himeko against it.

himeko leaped into the air, sword raised above her head as she moved to cut the honkai's stomach.

yet in a flash, she was knocked back down.

the claw of the creature threw her out of the way. yet it wasn't unscatched of course. the palm of the beast had smoke arising from it, sign that an injury was indeed there.

himeko crashed into the ground with a loud bang! your ears were ringing from the roar that the honkai gave out in triumph. your weapon felt heavy.

the honkai moved its tail to himeko again, who was stuck trying to get herself up. but she wouldn't be able to move in time like this. she would die here. you'd be watching the only person you still remembered after that incident die in front of you. you wouldn't be able to protect her.

your weapon felt… lighter?

like you could wield it easily. like an extension of your body now. not some heavy thing that felt almost impossible to yield.

without even thinking, you charged at the honkai. raising your scythe against the creature for you. the world became a blur as you danced around the honkai trying to attack you and your beloved. slashes from your scythe remained heavy against your enemy as you spun around it like a ballerina.

you finished your dance.

"now it's time for an encore."

everything went dark for a second, then a piercing roar was let out. it wasn't on of triumph.

it was one of pain.

the thump! resonated and then a louder one followed. the falling of the tail and of the body.

"ah… so you defeated it without me?"

you turned, seeing the red haired lady try to stand. she gripped onto her greatsword harshly to stay standing. without a second thought you rushed to himeko, helping her lean onto you instead of the sword itself.

"i'll call for help, you need medical attention soon himeko."

"of course… and thank you," himeko smiled at you.

you didn't know what to reply with but it seemed she wasn't looking for one for now. you nodded in response and went to call for help.

Vespa sniff on the other end of the line.  Plainly suspicious, but that was nothing new.

"Fine, now you're on, we can get back to business…."  There was a clatter outside, his head snapped towards it ".... temperature down, or it can cause…." and another- "gotta make sure he's in the recovery…" and another and confound it all Nureyev, focus!  He shook himself back to the conversation just in time for Vespa to say "Did you get that Thief?"

"Hmm?  I ugh-" he floundered.  No, no he had not gotten it, and was just about to say so when he heard voices-

Lord, not now, please not now-

"Thief?"

Nureyev limped to a window.  Even in the dim light of the street lamps, he could make out the security uniforms of Galactic Stars First Bank.  

No-

Anxiety spiked his chest, making him queasy- or perhaps he already was-

Juno was in danger.  That much, he was certain of.  To say nothing about himself.

He glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping lady.  Even with his features pinched and weary, he was beautiful-  

And vulnerable-

Plans began to formulate in his mind.  His first impulse was to find some crevice to hide in, to disappear.  But even with Juno’s help, he only just managed to get him to the sofa last time-  If they were found- well, he didn’t want to find out what they’d do to him.  

“Thief?!”

He could lure the guards inside, dispatch them quickly and save his leg the trouble-  But no, that would be too messy.  To say nothing of Juno’s sensibilities, inviting guards into their hiding spot introduced more blind variables than he’d care to gamble with.

Which left luring them away- Sharp teeth worried away at his bottom lip.  The injury would make things- challenging.  But he didn’t have to be fast.  After all, it was a fool who thought the best getaway vehicle was the fastest-  

What he needed now was a strategy; and to know how many employees he’d have to contend with.  

“God Damnit Ransom, the hell-”

“Apologies Vespa, I need Rita.”

“What?!”

“Ha-How many guards, am I dealing with- Rita?” Nureyev grimaced, pressing his back tight to the apartment's tinker toy brickwork.  Rita’s voice was going fuzzy around the edges, as though muffled.

It had been harder than anticipated to pick his way past the patrolling guards, yet alone work his way out of the safe house.

“Two, maybe four in your sector Mista Ransom.”

“Which is it? ”

“Hugh?”

“Which is it?  The- er- two, or the four?” there was a throb of pain that made his breath hitch.  Along with that ever present burning, biting its way deep.  

“Not sure but- are- are you alright Mista Ransom?”

“I- am a tad worse for wear.  Which is why I’d like to resolve this matter quickly.”

“Ohhh, ohh right!  Well Rita can help with that!”

“Thank you Rita.  Now- which way to the two or four individuals?”

He allowed Rita to guide him through the quiet streets.  She informed him that a dome wide lockdown had been initiated while the intruders were at large.  Sure enough, when he tried a few doors in passing, they refused to yield under his touch.  The citizens took the lockdown seriously.  

Nureyev made sure to make plenty of noise. He needed a show if he wanted this plan to work.  What worried him was that he was only half acting as he stumbled his way over the cobbles on a stiff leg.  He allowed himself to knock into bins and topple items into cars.  The noise he raised wasn’t loud, per say, but it was conspicuous on the quiet streets.  

“Where are these guards Rita?”

“They’ll be coming up any minute Mista Ransom, you just keep your eyes Peeled!  Make a right up here-” she directed “Peeled, hugh, ever consider what a weird thing it is to say.  That you should keep your eyes peeled?   I mean you do that and your eyes ain't gonna be good no more, least of all you.  Oh!  But there was this one stream where the monster worked its way out of a beautiful man!  Which was such a waist but what do I know about streams?  And its eyes were doing this crazy-”

“Any- minute?” he was starting to have doubts about using his own injured self as bait. He filed that deep in his mind.

“What?  Oh!  Yeah!  You got some baddies commin’ up right behind you.”

“Behind- Are you sure?” he panted.  

“Yeah of course I’m sure Mista Ransom!”

A quick turn confirmed Rita’s intel.  He was indeed being followed.  

They shouted something at his back, and Nureyev picked up his pace to a skip-hop, while his pursuers broke into a run.   A plasma bolt shot past his ear, sending a jolt of adrenaline through.  In answer he flipped over several barrels.  They cascaded into the small space, messing the ally nicely.  That should slow them down some.  It had to.

There was no time to pay attention to the ache of his lungs or the fire coursing through his leg.  Even as each step pushed him that much closer to being physically ill.  

File it away, Damn you- just file it away-

He screwed his eyes shut and pushed forward.  Forcing himself to keep moving, to keep breathing, to keep-

He plowed headlong into an old chain link fence with enough force to knock him to the ground with a strangled cry.  The traitorous links rattled and clinked all the way up to their restraints.  As if to add insult to injury, they stretched maybe ten, fifteen feet in the air.  There wasn’t a hope of making it over before his acquaintances caught up.  

“Mista Ransom?!” Rita sounded scared, she’d even stopped typing.  “What happened?”

“There’s-” he coughed “There’s a- barrier- ” There was another word, a better word, but he couldn’t for the life of him think of it.  It was taking all his effort to push upright on shaking arms, threading his fingers into the wire mesh to haul himself to his feet.  

“A barrier?  Like a wall or a buildin’ or somethin?  None of that is showing up on my schema-”

“A fence- Is there another way round?”  He took a moment to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry but, there isn’t anythin’ on the map.  Ya gotta get to the other side before ya have options.  Can’t you like, break through or somethin?”

Break through, of course, Nureyev could kick himself; it was so simple.  He extracted one of his plasma cutters from a pocket, heat humming through the blade.  In the end, it wasn’t even a good fence.  The blade made quick work of the links, slicing through them as one might margarine.  

Another blaster shot forced him through the cherry red ruin of a hole before it had a chance to cool.  He brought his arm up, shielding his face even as the sharp edges racked along his coat, hitting his leg- he hissed, nausea threatening to overtake him.  

“Mista Ransom?”

He scrambled to the other side, barely keeping upright.  

“Mista Ransom!  You’ve got more company comin’ straight at you!”

“What-” his voice cracked in exhaustion.  Through the gloom, he could just make out the second pair barreling down the narrow passage.  He could hear them barking orders at him now, probably instructing him to surrender or other such nonsense that he had no intention of following.  

“They’ve brought reinforcements!  They’re gonna’ block your escape roots!”

“Reinforcements?”

“There’s at least four more heading straight at you!”

Nureyev glanced back and spotted the first pair shoving through the debris.  Then that would make six-  Six on one, he didn’t like those odds.  A wrong step sent a jolt through him, his weakened leg nearly buckling under his weight sending him into a wall.  Again the world went fuzzy, blood rushing to his ears.

He wondered if the Carte Blanche really would come back for him if he’d got captured.  Something made him doubt it even as he shoved the ugly thought deep into a file.  

Think Nureyev.

Time, he needed time.  A had drifted to the modest arsenal on his chest.  There were a few smoke bombs he hadn’t touched, but the situation called for something more dire-

He plucked a pepper grenade from the clip, lobbing it over the fence with the practiced ease of one who’d spent hours on throwing knives.  Smoke tracked it’s flight through the air.  It struck the ground at the guard’s feet.  They yelled, scrambling back just as it erupted.  The choking fumes swallowed them in seconds.  

Nureyev was no longer paying mind to them, attention bent entirely at the remaining guards.  Four on one were more....manageable.  

He rushed the closest set, drawing a twin to his first blade wheeling them in tandem.  The man was no fighter, as soon as he got into their space, the man shrank back, his blaster forgotten.  

A tingling burn flushed across exposed skin making his heart plummet.  He’d made a mistake.  Nureyev hadn't accounted for the wind-

Spurred by the change in fortune, Nureyev dispatched the man quickly; maneuvering out of the way as he crumpled.  Life’s blood spilled over the cobbles soon obscured by smoke.

Smoke?  

Twisting and contorting, the smoke seemed to grow till it engulfed everything in its path.  Pouring down the cramped space.  The remaining guards tried to run, but were soon overtaken, same as the Thief.

Nureyev's throat closed against the onslaught.  He gagged and coughed over the very air, vision hopelessly obscured by tears.  The only good news was that he could hear his attackers do the same.  Panic began to fog his reason.  

He no longer noticed the burning of his skin or eyes, or the way his nose was running; no longer could feel the pain in his leg.  He couldn’t breathe, he couldn't breathe .  The single thought spun round and round in his brain, desperately trying to figure a way around it.  He clung to the wall with every ounce of strength he possessed.  The coughing picked up even harder now till his chest crushed in like a deflated balloon.

Try as he will, his lungs would not expand.  There was simply no more air.

“Mista Ransom?” Rita, in the coms!  Rita who was still very much with him.  There was hope!  

Just then a hand clenched around a fistful of his hair, dragging Nureyev lower still.  He’d been found, even in a place like this, they’d still found him.  The employees of Galactic Stars First Bank were more like his creditors than Nureyev liked.  Even now she was growling at him in anger.  

Though he couldn’t understand the language, he knew she was asking questions.  Her breaths were short and forced yet still she managed to talk.  Had he not been in the grips of fear, he would have found her admirable.  

“Mista Ransom?!”

Through his bleary eyes, he could make out the cyan glow of a blaster pointed down under his nose.  She meant to shoot him, but was hesitating.  At any other time, he'd wonder why-  Instead he reached up to claw, to cling at her wrist, still with a grip on his knives.  She twisted and he bowed lower, leg quaking, his hand slipped and-

“Ah!” she squealed as his plasma blade bit into her arm, flinging  him back to a wall.  The impact miraculously forced air back into his lungs.  Though as soon as he got it, his body started to cough it back up.  Furiously he clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to hold it in.

It didn't work.

“Mista Ransom!” If Rita had sounded scared before, that was nothing compared to now.  Her voice was small and tentative in a way that would break any heart.  Even so, he latched onto her voice with everything he was worth.  

The light of the guard's weapon danced before him.  She may have been hurt, but she wasn’t down yet.  What’s worse was that she seemed to be calling for backup.  

The blade sang out of his fingers, digging itself into her thigh. This time she screamed and hacked, scrambling for the off switch while Nureyev made his escape.  It hadn't been where he'd been aiming, but close enough.  With any luck, she'd have trouble moving for a time.  

“R-ita-” he choked out, managing tiny gasps, every one a massive effort.

“What’s going on!  Have you been Gassed!!!!!” thank stars he would not have to explain.

“Y-yes-” he gave into a violent coughing fit.

“Oh-Okay, you need me to show you the way out!”

“Yes-” the fight had turned him around, making it impossible to tell which way to go.  He wanted to be free of the smoke as soon as possible.

“Can Do!  Oh!  This is just like one of those Spy streams like- well, never mind that right now.  Alright Mista Ransom, I’m gonna need you to move forwards about a hundred meters.” She instructed conspiratorially.  He obliged, thankful to leave the thinking to her.  Using the wall to keep him straight.  “Be careful when you reach the fork!” she cautioned “The passage on your left has a few baddies, the one on your right is clear!”  

On his right- he could just make out two voids stretching before him.  Stealing his resolve he propelled himself right and mercifully broke through the miasma.  He crashed into a dumpster, nearly running smack into the center of another set of guards.  

It had been the wrong way.  

There would be no time to recover, no time for rest.  Furiously he wiped his eyes and gulped down recycled air.  

Rita shrieked in his ear, “Not your right, my right!” but he had no choice but to tune her out.  

The fresh opponent rushed him, their partner charging their blaster.  Nureyev stumbled back towards the smoke, just managing to use his attacker’s momentum to spin them round into their partner.  Their partner roared, firing shots off at random as they fell.  Blaster spun out of their grip on impact.  A stray bolt savaged one of Nureyev’s coat pockets, scattering it’s contents on the stones.  Hopefully there wouldn’t have been anything important in there.  

Nureyev readjusted his knife grip and threw at the tangle of limbs.  One of the figures stilled.  He hobbled towards them as fast as he could, retrieving the blade.  He’d already lost one and that was one too many.  

It was a mistake.

Pain shot through his leg making him cry out.  He fell hard separated anew from his weapon.  He’d been struck down by the spare guard.  They spat words that were sure to be insults as they disentangled themselves from the motionless body.

Nureyev gasped, twisting away towards the fallen blaster.  It had landed some distance away, but one advantage of long limbs was reach-  The guard growled and caught his foot, drawing him backwards.  He kicked out and the hands clawed higher.  It seemed they both were trying for the same weapon.

"Let go- " Nureyev bit out attempting to dislodge the guard.

"Never, scum- " they shot back in perfect Brahmese.  Before that could sink in, fingers jammed into his bandages, into the wound-  Nureyev keened, paralyzed by the shock of it.  

First rule of thriving Pete, you can't afford to be loud.

Rita shrieked all the louder.  Nureyev was at once hot and cold and utterly overwhelmed..  He knew he was hurt, thank you, he knew it!  He could do without the constant reminders.  

The guard made use of their opportunity by clambering over Nureyev.  Hand planted on his spine, pushing him down.  The thief refused to let it be that easy; scanning for something, anything he could use-

There!

His pocket knife!  

Nureyev’s arm shot out, scooping up the tool and flicking it open.  He twisted, simultaneously throwing them off and swiping upwards.  The blade bit into cloth and flesh.  They reared back startled, leaving Nureyev to wriggle free.  On hands and knees he scrambled to the blaster.  

Nureyev may not have the skills of a certain lovely sharp shooter, but at a distance like this, he couldn't miss.  

The stunner went straight to their chest and all went quiet.  He folded over, resting his forehead on the damp of the grimy street, forcing down bile once more.

"Mista Ransom!!!  Oh Mista Ransom!  Are you there?  Please say you're there, cuz I'm not sure how I could face the boss if I…."

"Rita-"

"....got you blown up or somethin, cuz know I'd miss you oh so much but Boss- oh I couldn't imagine-"

"I'm- ha- I'm fine- Rita-" he tried again, louder this time.  His voice was thick and rough, entirely unlike the persona he’d been so careful to maintain around the crew.

There was a loud clatter from the other end and a sharp intake of breath.  It sounded as though Rita knocked something over "Mista Ransom!  You ought to feel ashamed!  Scaring a girl like that!  Don’t you know that-" she cut off abruptly “Ugh oh, Mista Ransom!  You gotta get out of there, stat!  There are reinforcements on the way and I don't think they are too happy!”

Nureyev groaned and thanked Rita.  He supposed it was a lucky thing that he was so averse to capture.  It had been a long time since cold stone had been so welcoming.  

“What are you waiting’ for Mista Ransom?”

“N-nothing- Rita.  Merely -becoming acquainted with the cobble work.” he murmured.  In truth, he was drained to his core.  His head was spinning, body aching, leg burning and he was just so- thirsty.  There was at least something he could do about the last one, but not for a while, and not without getting up.  The entire distraction had taken far more out of him than anticipated.  

“Mista Ransom, you know I don’t speak nothin but Solar-” she started, but he wasn’t listening.  

Distraction.  His mind snagged on the word.

That was right, he was luring Galactic Star’s First Bank away from Juno.  Juno, gorgeous, wonderful Juno who’d taken a poison dart for him, who needed him right now.  

Nureyev had to get back to him, no matter what.  

In the end, Nureyev had trusted Rita to guide him back to the safe house.  She’d insisted after he nearly ran into another set of guards.  He was too tired to fight.  More than once considering folding himself up into a corner and waiting for the excitement to die down.  Moving in the open like this- didn't sit well with him.  

It took a lot longer to return to the grubby street of the safe house, and longer still to check and recheck he hadn’t been followed or bugged.  

“Thank you again- Rita-”  Privately he vowed to do something nice for her if and when they’d return to the ship.

“Oh and Mista Ransom?”

“Hm?”

“Take care of yourself, alright?  Ya make Mista Steel real happy- and- and I want ya both back in one piece okay?”

Nureyev was taken aback for a moment, mind blanking over the words.  It was- touching, and he had no idea what to do with that.  

He cleared his throat.  “I will do everything in my power to make that happen.” and he meant it.  

Like every time Loki returns from their travels, they engage in a fight with Odin.

About how Loki missed so many important meetings (not a single meeting occurred) and how selfish of him is to abandon his place as a prince (meanwhile this is the third month of nothingness on any matter) and, Odin's favourite, how he cannot run away from his responsibilities like a coward (not running from responsibilities, running from Odin). Of course, after mastering the art of being yelled at by Odin, Loki does what they know is best during these fits. Space out until he astral projects.

Fortunately, the yelling session doesn't last long and Loki is free to go unpack and settle back in. At least for the next hour.

Or until Thor comes slamming Loki's door. He does get to walk in, seeing Loki half laid on a small couch with a book in hands. The odd thing in the image is that the book is so obviously upside down that even Thor notices.

"What do I owe you the visit, brother?" Loki asks, struggling to keep their voice from showing how breathless they are. Was he running?

"Father has fallen into an Odinsleep. Do not blame yourself, Loki, we were expecting one anything now," Thor answers, avoiding to ask any question. Loki is Loki, and the answers will probably put Thor into trouble.

"Will Mother take charge or you?" they ask, flipping the book and actually reading it.

"Mother. I wanted to focus on training and convinced her to take the throne," they explain. Loki lets out a low hum.

"Very well. If you mind not, I will rest. Goodnight, brother," he closes the book and gets up, greeting Thor and waiting for him to leave and close the door behind him.

~~~

Thor is about to go to their second round of training for today, but they get an idea. What if Loki joins, and doesn't stay in their room all day?

But, as he walks closer to Loki's room, he can feel the floor shaking, and hear some odd noise. And… is Loki screaming?

So, naturally, Thor summons Mjølnir and storms in, ready to face whatever threat made Loki scream.

"For fuck's sake, couldn't you just knock?!" Loki yells, turning off the music and walking towards Thor. And, as expected, Thor won't take their eyes off their brother.

"When did you get all these?" he asks, waving at the room with the armed hand.

"On Midgard," they answer, leaning against a table and crossing their sleeveless arms, battle scars and drawing visible to Thor's eyes.

"What are the drawings?" Thor asks and walks closer to take a better look.

"Tattoos. Yes, they're permanent and yes, I did them on my own volition," he sighs.

"And your eyebrow?" he points at the small ring on Loki's eyebrow.

"Not as permanent,"

"And the hair?" they basically screech when noticing the short shaved hair on Loki's left side, in contrast with their long black locks on the remaining scalp.

"Did it myself. I'm not a slave," he reassures Thor, just remembering what short hair means.

"Sounds fine. Do you want to come train?"

Loki stays there blinking for a long moment. "Yes, give me a minute to change and I'm coming," they nod and walk in their bedroom, coming out a second later, wearing the undergarment of their armour. "Shall we go?" he slaps Thor's back as he passes by, already heading out.

Well, no matter what Loki did to their appearance, it surely lifted their confidence.

"It suits you. What do they call this fashion on Midgard?" Thor makes the millionth question, but since Loki doesn't complain about them, it's not bad.

"Thank you, punk,"

"Why did you call me a punk?" Thor comes to a halt, betrayal and anger burning inside him.

"Wha- I-... That's the name of the fashion. It's called punk," Loki explains, raising their pierced eyebrow.

"Oh," they hum and keep walking. But Loki won't follow.

Because he's laughing his soul out, tears making his makeup messy and his body bending in half. "It's not that funny," Thor narrows his eyes.

"It is, you oaf," Loki argues, struggling to take a few deep breaths and continuing to giggle even after the fit is over. Thor sighs and rolls their eyes. Well, it's rare to have Loki in such a good mood, there's no reason to ruin it.

~~~

Thor had forgotten that Sif and the Warriors Three are still in the training hall.

"What happened to him?" Sif asks the moment she lays eyes on Loki.

"The real question is if the jewelry will jingle when you slap them," Volstagg argues, laughing like it's the most hilarious joke.

"That's it, you're screwed," Loki growls and rushes to remove the piercings, slamming them on Thor's hand and walking forward.

And he would attack if Thor didn't grab his wrist. "Behave, it's not worth it," he hums, trying to stop the fight before it starts.

"See, nothing will happen. The snake's a coward," Hogun grins and points at Loki with his head.

Without any word spoken, Thor releases the grip on Loki's wrist. And Loki leaps forward, two daggers already on their arms.

And in less than ten minutes, Loki walks out of the fight, with a swollen lip and a limping being the only proof he walked into one in the first place. But Fandral is the only one who hasn't been stabbed in the ribs, because they didn't do anything.

"My piercings, brother," they breathe out and lend an open hand. Thor, who has been frozen still the whole time, nods and hands the steel jewelry over, watching Loki putting them back on as he walks out. "Will you stand there? Come on, let's go to the gardens," they turn around. Thor nods and follows him, pretty sure that he's not to comment on the fight.

~~~

"Isn't the clean air so calming, brother? The smell of the flowers, oh, it's so soothing," Loki smiles, and takes yet another deep inhale.

"Yes, and I'm pretty sure you stepped on a horseshit," Thor grins. Loki groans and checks on his boot, letting yet another groan and rubbing it on some grass.

"You are truly disgusting! You killed the vibe, are you happy now?" they carp, glaring at Thor as they cast a spell to clean up the shoe.

"Always so dramatic," Thor sighs and waits for Loki before he starts walking again. They fall on a long lasting silence, and grow awkward.

"I crave… chaos," Loki declares.

"Brother, you're the god of chaos. Of course you crave it!" Thor groans.

"Should we burn something?" he suggests casually.

"Why would we burn something?"

"Because it's fun!"

Thor groans again and rubs his eye bridge. "Loki, we are not going to burn something,"

"But Thooor…" Loki jumps in front of Thor and pouts, eyes wide and lips shakiness as they press their palms together.

After a long moment, Thor lets another sigh out. "Fine, let's burn something,"

"Thor, you're the best!" Loki screeches and squeezes Thor into a hug before running to a nearby forest and taking them with him.

~~~

"What do you mean half of the forest is burned down to ashes?" Frigga sighs and lets her goblet hoover in the air.

"Mother, I swear, it was an accident," Loki looks up at the throne, tensing their shoulders to appear smaller.

"Yes, Mother. We didn't mean it," Thor adds, but stands tall.

Frigga sighs again and takes a remarkable chunk of their wine. "Fine, you're pardoned,"

"But, Allmother…" the guard who reported the incident argues.

"Silence. They're pardoned. I can't deal with this," she insists and dismisses all three with a wave of her hand.

"Authority suits her. Have you seen them that drunk before?" Thor whispers when they walk out and towards the corridor.

"Second that. And, it was nice, today. I truly enjoyed it, brother," Loki lets a small smile slip.

"Yes, me too. We should do it more often," Thor agrees.

"Definitely. Tomorrow?"

"Sure,"

"Splendid! I will make your hair as well!" Loki grins, trying hard to not blust from excitement.

"Forget it!" Thor growls.

"Sure thing, weather boi," Loki scoffs.

“Hey, look! It’s one of the sextuplets all by themselves, without any other brothers around for once. What a loser.”

“Which one is that again? Smellymatsu? Stupidmatsu?”

Osomatsu gritted his teeth as he walked by a group of boys on the playground, all of them talking not-so-discreetly about him. From the side of his eye he caught sight of their snide smirks. He told himself to ignore it and marched on.

“What’re you doing by yourself, Stupidmatsu?” one of them called after him. “Where are your dumb brothers?”

Osomatsu still said nothing, picking up the pace as he headed toward the gates of the school.

If I hadn’t gotten detention, he thought scornfully, I would’ve been able to walk home with my brothers like always instead. Then they wouldn’t be bugging me.

“Stupidmatsu, we asked you a question!” Suddenly one of the bullies appeared right in front of Osomatsu, startling him so much he lost his balance and fell on his bottom on the ground.

Osomatsu scowled up at the bully. “Don’t call me Stupidmatsu!” he barked. “And my brothers are at home, but that’s none of your business anyway!”

“Oh, so you’re all by yourself then, huh?” Another bully sidled up to the first one, grinning wickedly and punching his fist against his palm. “So this’ll be easy.”

Osomatsu swallowed hard, not liking the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“Face it, kid,” the first bully spoke up with a menacing sneer. “You are a huge dork, and you’ve got nothing special about yourself either. You’re just a stupid sextuplet. You’re exactly like you’re brothers.”

“And without your brothers at your side,” the second bully snarled, “you’re weak. A pathetic, worthless doofus with no mind of his own.”

Osomatsu glared harshly at them, trying not to cower under their  intimidating glares. “That’s not true!” he shouted at them. “Just because we’re sextuplets doesn’t mean we’re the same person! We’re all different! And I am not weak, I bet I could kick your butt!”

“Oh really? Why don’t you prove it then?” The first bully took a step forward, shaking a fist toward Osomatsu.

Osomatsu gulped, scuttling backward, and the bully laughed cruelly.

“Just like I thought! Weak! You can’t do anything without your brothers by your side!” He cackled.

Osomatsu growled deep in his throat, jumping to his feet and squaring off against the two bullies. He tried not to think of the fact that they were both significantly taller and stronger-looking than he was. “No way! I’ll show you! Let me fight you, right here, right now!”

The two bullies shared a bemused glance, then the first bully cracked his knuckles and regarded Osomatsu with a smug grin.

“You’re gonna regret this decision.”

—————

“Osomatsu!” Choromatsu gasped when he saw his older brother about twenty minutes later, limping as he walked into the house. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Osomatsu grumbled, slamming the front door shut behind him.

“How can you say nothing? You look horrible!” Choromatsu exclaimed.

Osomatsu glared at the ground, refusing to meet Choromatsu’s concerned gaze. “It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

“But your face! Your cheek is all red and swollen, and you have a black eye!”

“Who has a black eye?” Suddenly Karamatsu poked his head into the hallway from the other room, and when he saw Osomatsu his eyes widened. “Wow! Osomatsu, that looks like it hurts!”

Of course, Karamatsu and Choromatsu’s collective yelling drew the attention of the other brothers, who came running to see what was going on. The second they laid eyes on Osomatsu, they bombarded him with questions about what happened.

“Nothing! I already said that!” Osomatsu snapped, as he hobbled toward the kitchen for an ice pack. “I fell, okay?”

“There’s no way you hurt yourself like that from falling!” Ichimatsu insisted.

“You look like someone beat you up,” Todomatsu added, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Jyushimatsu looked worried. “Who beat you up? Was it someone at school?”

“No! And stop asking!” Osomatsu turned away from his brothers, his cheeks red and eyes stinging with tears. He flung open the freezer door, grabbed an ice pack, and shut it again hard.

“Osomatsu…don’t you think you should tell us what happened?” Karamatsu asked quietly. “We’re your brothers. We just wanna help.”

“I know you’re my brothers, but…I just want you to leave me alone. Please.” Osomatsu still wouldn’t look at any of them—he was afraid if he did, he’d start crying.

Silence followed for several minutes. Finally, Choromatsu spoke. “Fine. If that’s what you want,” he said coldly. “Let’s just go, if he’s gonna be such a jerk about it.”

One by one, the brothers reluctantly left the room. Osomatsu still wouldn’t watch them, not lifting his gaze from the floor until he knew he was alone.

He sighed shakily, dropping into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He pressed the ice pack to his throbbing eye, wincing as the cold pack made contact with his skin.

Those bullies are wrong. I don’t need my brothers to win my fights for me. And I don’t need their help all the time, either. I can take care of myself!

….right?

A few tears overflowed his eyes, trickling down his bruised cheeks. He sniffled, furiously wiping his wet eyes with the back of his hand.

Right. I don’t always need them, and they don’t always need me. I’m tough and strong on my own, aren’t I?