A/N: So, it's been four years since I posted anything up here, 5 since I posted anything in the Dark Cloud fandom and I will admit that I'm kind of nervous. But I love this game and I love writing about it, so here it is, my most recent fic. It's based around what happened when I picked up the game again a week ago, and I intend to turn it into a series. Crossposted to Ao3.

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Every part of Toan's body ached, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. Fairy Magic may have taken care of his wounds when he transferred from the dungeon back to the village, but the ache and the heaviness still lingered. The gash he had gotten in his side from a skeleton's dagger still sent sharp warning twinges as he walked, even though the wound itself was completely healed over, he ran his fingers over the smooth skin to check periodically because it throbbed with every step as if the knife was still embedded in his skin. His movements were slow and lethargic, not only because he was tired and hurting, but because it still felt like the poison was still eating away at him from the inside.

Predictably, the fairy king didn't show up to explain to him why he was still hurting even though his injuries had melted away as though they had never existed. Perhaps it was a punishment for not even making it to the second floor. Perhaps it was punishment for failing to defeat every monster and having to be whisked away before the beast could land the final blow. Perhaps he just wasn't good enough even though the Atlamillia had chosen him.

Or perhaps fairy magic couldn't fix everything. Just like it couldn't protect the world from the Dark Genie, only seal it away in little bubbles. He thought it was the most likely explanation, just another item on the list that he had to fix himself.

Being a hero was tougher than he thought; everyone talked about how awe-inspiring it was to fight the monsters and save the day and how heroes must be so strong if they were chosen to do the great things they did, but they never talked about what happened when they were first starting out, armed only with a dagger and what meagre supplies the mayor could spare. Even heroes chosen by fate had to start somewhere, Toan told himself, even though a part of him wished it was as easy as the stories about his father made it sound. He wished that he could just jump into battle without any experience and kill everything that stood in his way, that he could just blink and suddenly the village was back to normal, exactly the way it was before today, that nothing bad had ever happened and when he opened his eyes again, he wasn't the chosen one, just a normal boy going about his everyday life.

But nothing would ever be normal again, at least for him.

He wanted his mother, but she was still trapped, trapped within the Atla within the dungeon and he didn't save her. He didn't even manage to save anyone except for the Macho brother's house and a lamp before collapsing and being magicked away. And now, nighttime had fallen and all he could do was try to find a place to rest before diving in again.

Norune village was still an eerie blank slate with nothing to lean on as he limped towards the mayor's house. The wind whistled eerily through his hair, whispering things to him in a language he didn't completely understand, but comprehended anyway, telling him how empty the place was and wouldn't he hurry up and restore it already. Hearing it ached almost as much as seeing the completely empty place where his home once stood. He limped past it, trying not to think how unnerving it was that the entire place was as flat and as level as one of Pike's tables, as if a giant had come and stomped it flat.

By the time he made it to the stairs, the lingering pain had faded into a dull, but tolerable ache; the phantom knife in his side was no longer stabbing him with every wrong movement. It was a blessing because he didn't think he could have managed them with his vision blacking out every other step. He stumbled up, leaning heavily on the rail for a moment before continuing on.

He practically fell through the door as soon as he managed to get it open, catching himself on the doorjamb just in time. The mayor looked up from his book, eyes widening at the sight and then suddenly he was in front of Toan, supporting him as he helped him to the sitting area. As soon as he was settled comfortably the mayor whisked his pouch away, restocking his supplies before handing it back and sitting across from him.

"So my boy, how did your first adventure go?" He asked, smiling at him like he was expecting something great from him. Toan's shoulders fell and he glanced at the ground, trying to sniff back tears. He didn't entirely succeed, as his vision blurred and his cheeks felt wet; the mayor leaned forward and patted him on the shoulder, though it wasn't really much of a pat, more of a wallop that sent shockwaves through his body, the pain reminding him just how badly he failed. A sandwich and a bottle of water was pushed into his hands, and he began to eat, almost mechanically. He didn't answer, letting the silence speak for itself.

"That bad, huh? Don't worry. You can give it another try tomorrow." The mayor laughed, as if he were speaking of something mundane like fishing instead of diving into a dungeon filled with monsters. If he hadn't been resolutely staring at the ground, Toan would have stared at the Mayor like he had lost his mind. Try again? Of course he would have to, it only made sense.

But… could he do it? It had all seemed so simple this morning, when the Fairy King explained it, the Mayor supported it and he was rushing in armed only with his trusty dagger.

His father wouldn't have had to run away with his tail between his legs after fighting a couple monsters. His father wouldn't have accidentally drank his only antidote after mistaking it for a bottle of water. His father probably would have killed the bat before he got poisoned in the first place.

He wasn't his father, but he was a hero. He had been chosen. He was special.

And he had never felt more alone.

The mayor patted him on his shoulder again, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch he was sitting on to drape over Toan's shoulders. "Things will look better in the morning." He insisted as Toan finally looked at him, smiling warmly at the would-be-hero. "You'll see. Just get some rest and everything will fall into place." And then, he was gone, toddling off to his own bed as he left Toan on the couch.

A part of him wanted to resent him, he was in charge of the village, he should be saving it, but in the end he was as helpless against the dark genie as anyone was. There wasn't anything the mayor could do aside from giving him supplies and encouraging him. This was something he had to do himself, as the one chosen by the atlamillia, by the fairies, by the world itself. In light of that, facing a few measly monsters seemed like it was a small task.

It still hurt though, as he curled up on the couch, missing his bed, his home and his mother.

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