Chapter 1: Pilot
Frisk had to be the most determined child Sans had ever met. Yet all of that determination had been drained from their small features in that moment they had come home from school. Their shoulders trembled as their muffled cries were silenced by their knees. Their sadness was barely noticeable, but it made all the difference to Sans.
They looked up at him as he brushed their hair from their face. "You gonna fill me in, kiddo?" he asked, worry creeping into his tone.
"I don't want to talk about it," they replied, once again resuming their position of their head in their knees.
He soon realized a large bruise covering their left leg. They still had scars from the numerous fights they had been in underground, but this new injury had appeared only after they had come home from school.
Sans's eyes went dark. What - or WHO - had hurt the child so badly? They had gone through death after painful death to bring monsters to the Surface in peace; no human, especially Frisk, deserved the torture they had endured, yet humans still seemed to have almost no respect for the ambassador.
A trail of tears followed a drop of blood down their other leg. The source of the blood, Sans found, was their right arm.
"Frisk, kid, you're not okay," he acknowledged. "What happened?"
They sat up straighter, folding their hands neatly in their lap for a moment before immediately beginning to fidget with their sweater.
"I was getting my books out of my locker and then a couple of human boys started making fun of me," they explained, sniffling. "They pinned me up against my locker and told me they'd hurt me if I didn't fight them." They sniffed again and wiped away a tear.
"And you didn't fight anyone," he put the pieces together quickly. Frisk would never dare to hurt anyone; it didn't matter how horrible they were.
They nodded. "A teacher came by and saw us," they said.
"She gave 'em what they deserved?" he asked.
"No, she didn't. She blamed me."
