Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Cave Story. Pixel does. Please do not sue me.

A/N: This little fic was sitting on my computer for the past half a year or so, untouched after its initial drafts. I remember thinking that this fic needed a bit of touching up and some last minute editing/proofreading in order for me to be satisfied with where it was, and I decided that I would wait a couple of weeks before returning to it to come at it from a fresh new perspective. ...Turns out I completely forgot about it until about two days ago.

I am not entirely happy with where it is now, but to refrain from posting it up would probably mean another long delay. So that means...? Minimal revising! YEAH! I didn't want to worry too much about the final product. Yes, this fic is waaaay too dramatic; yes, it makes me cringe as well. And yes, there are almost definitely errors in tenses and blocks in the flow of my writing. Repetition is also pretty heavy in this fic as well...

Huh. Maybe I shouldn't post this up lol.

I dunno, I always try to make everything as perfect as my abilities allow, and that usually ends up with me scrapping entire projects after finishing their initial drafts. So I want to break that habit of perfectionism; just post this up when I have the guts to do so. (Oneshots are so much easier than actual chapter fics; even if it's bad, it's just a couple thousand words of bleh instead of thirty thousand lol.)

Uhh, yeah. Please give me feedback. Even if you didn't enjoy it. ...Especially if you didn't enjoy it. Sorry for this longass Author's Note, but thanks for reading!

(Recently revised - May 1st 2014)


Arthur was dead, and Jack still couldn't believe it. Arthur? Dead? No, no; that couldn't be. Those words were like opposites; this was all just a very unpleasant nightmare. Arthur couldn't die. To hell with the Doctor and his evil witch servant; nothing could kill Arthur, and that was that. No sword, no gun, no evil magic could take down their beloved hero. Even if fate didn't share his same convictions, he was certain that his beliefs were based on truth and reality; after all, Arthur was Arthur, and Arthur… Just couldn't be dead.

"I can't believe he's really gone…"

Jack could almost feel himself crumpling under the weight of King's words. He really is gone. He's actually gone.

After knowing the other Mimiga for his entire life, the mere thought of his passing had seemed so foreign and far away. Him, Arthur and King; back in the day, they had been inseparable. They had eaten with one another. They had adventured together and suffered through pain together. They had swum buck-naked in the reservoir together, splashing and screaming and causing all sorts of ruckus. And when they had grown to become the more competent Mimiga of the village, they began contemplating the future of their village together, wondering how their generation would be able to run the place.

Jack looked sullenly at the tombstone in front of him. This isn't fair. And he could think of nothing else. They were supposed to run the village until the next generation could do so. They were supposed to do it together. Without Arthur… Without the one who naturally took the lead, there was not one thing Jack could think of that made things seem alright. The Mimiga had already suffered many casualties to the hands of evil; why couldn't the world just leave them alone? It wasn't fair, and Jack hated it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Toroko step forward. She was trying her best not to cry, but the damp stains on her cheeks betrayed her. Jack could feel his heart splintering to pieces as he watched her fragile form make its way to the tombstone. She didn't deserve this; any of it. How long ago was it that he saw her laughing at a joke King had messed up? When was it that he saw her protesting a forced piggyback ride that her brother was giving her? Was it last week?

Toroko knelt in front of the tombstone, one paw on the smooth rock. King grunted and looked away. Jack felt like doing the same; he could only imagine what Toroko was going through, and he felt ashamed for being in her presence as she knelt on her brother's grave. Maybe we should give her some time alone.

"I-I…" Her cracked and trembling voice broke the silence. "If only y-you…"

Last week was forever ago.

Jack cursed silently. The Doctor was going to have hell to pay if he had anything to say about it. Witnessing Toroko's pain only served to amplify his sense of aching loss. Even though she was not that much younger than him, Jack couldn't shake the feeling that he was seeing a toddler completely overwhelmed by the realities of life. She was too young to have to deal with this.

After what seemed like hours, Toroko stood up. Shaking her head resolutely, her ears flapping softly against her face, she turned around and ran, off the edge of the raised precipice and out of the cemetery. He didn't have the heart to follow her; now, it was just him and King.

King sighed. "This is all just so stupid." He kicked the dirt half-heartedly, staring at his long-time friend's grave. "So damn stupid."

And it was. How could one man (just one man!) take out Arthur? Jack always thought it would take a legion of fierce dragons to best their friend, or something even more ferocious, but here they were, standing in front of his grave and cursing the singular man that killed him. …Damn stupid indeed. Arthur deserved a better death. The Doctor was a nobody; someone who couldn't even be considered worthy of fighting at all.

Jack shuffled his feet. "I guess… with Arthur gone, that makes you the leader now?" It was dirty to bring this up now. The words felt heavy, weighted with all that was wrong in the world, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. Talking about their past would only drown them in despair, and staying silent would be like treading water; this at least would allow him to feel like he was moving somewhere.

King grimaced as he stared the tombstone down. "What good does that do us?"

"We still need a leader. You know full well you were the second in line."

A pause, and then "I don't want to be the leader." Jack could sense a hint of anger in King's voice.

"King."

His friend answered with silence, his eyes boring holes into the large stone in front of him.

He pressed on. If King didn't take up the mantle, the morale of the village would be nonexistent. "King, you have to."

"I didn't ask for this!" King whirled on Jack, eyes flashing furiously. "How the hell did this happen?! I didn't want this; I never asked to be leader!"

"I know." And it hurt. It hurt to acknowledge Arthur's death, and it hurt to tell King to acknowledge it as well.

King turned to Arthur's tombstone again, heaving desperately.

"…You have to." Jack placed a paw on his friend's shoulder, trying to provide as much reassurance as he possibly could. "We need you to."

And then King screamed. A raw howl sent to all the uncaring gods that would listen. His voice cracking with pain and anguish, the howl broke down into choked sobs and uncontrollable gasps for breath. It was painful, seeing King like this.

"Jack… He was perfect."

Any other circumstance would have both of them laughing at the cheesiness of the remark; calling each other "perfect" would probably end with them jokingly questioning each other's sexuality. But this time was different, because there was one less person to joke around with. Because that one less person was Arthur. And to top it off, it was King saying this; the one least likely to say it. Thinking back, Jack could name a thousand things about Arthur that would piss King off to no end; the way Arthur always came out on top in arguments, how he smiled too much in the mornings, how he hummed to himself when he was bored, the upturn of his nose when he refused to listen to you speak, how he would hold back in fights just to get your hopes up… And that wasn't even touching the surface.

But maybe it was those things that made King say that. Arthur was brave, yes. Braver than anyone. He was a damn good leader and inspiring when he needed to be. Kind, rational, and charming as well. But the little things that made him Arthur to them; those were the things that would stay in their memories. Those little things were acknowledgements of his perfection at being Arthur.

They stood there in agonized silence until King was able to get his breathing under control.

"Fuck it. I can do this." King's eyes hardened and he stood up straight, wiping his tears away angrily. "Leaving us like this… Don't be surprised when I become a better leader than you ever were, you selfish bastard."

And Jack felt a little bit of hope run through his veins for the first time since Arthur's death.

This new chapter in the history of the Mimiga would be tough. Without Arthur to help shape the paragraphs, there was no sense of safety or organization anymore; things would get brutal and messy, fast. But if there was anyone who could lead the village out of the mess it was in, it was King. Jack didn't doubt it for one moment. Even if the new leader didn't believe it himself, he was the best hope they had.

"C'mon, Jack. Let's go check up on everyone."

"Yeah… Let's go."

We're doing okay, right Arthur?

They leapt off the precipice and walked slowly to the exit as the new leader and second in command.