Ghost's Fury Chapter 35: Progress, a How to Train Your Dragon + Big Hero 6 Crossover fanfic

Chapter 35, everybody! And now it's time for the fallout of Obake's latest scheme….

In other news, Hiro is quoting Princess Dot from A Bug's Life. Also Older-Brother needs a hug, probably. And a Snickers, but unfortunately those don't exist in this universe.

ElizabethBathog, thanks for the review! I'm doing my best, and thank you! :D

There was a great grand hullabaloo the next morning when the kill ring was found empty of dragons, slag dripped all over the floor where they had burned a hole in the roof.

Yama was beyond furious.

"Find Obake," he spat. "And get me Felix!"

Calhoun nodded, paused long enough to take note of how everything looked. Hole in the roof, the locks all undone and melted, cages open…if she didn't know any better, she'd say the dragons freed themselves.

But that was insanity talking, and she was not insane.

Hence why she also told Felix to hide and lay low for a bit, charging Ralph with ensuring this—Yama was in enough of a fit right now to try something drastic, and they didn't need to lose the contractor.

This was also the reason she wasn't in a big hurry to try to track down Obake, if he even could be found.

"So what do you think?" she asked, sidling up to Helga, standing near the cliff and looking in the direction of the kill ring, where furious yelling was still coming from.

"I think this feels like one of Obake's schemes, but I couldn't say the why or how," Helga told her. "This doesn't make any sense."

No, it didn't.

"Might be a good time for a meeting, when Yama and Sparkle send the boats out hunting," she told Helga. "We're going to need to evaluate our approach going forward, figure out how to hide Felix for a few days…and turn up Obake."

"Very true," Helga said—turned to look into the village. "And I think I know just the person to ask about that."

Calhoun followed her line of sight—

"Momakase?" she asked. "Those two aren't close."

"No, but she's been skipping the kill rings, and from what I've gathered she's been wandering around the island pretending at busywork. We've already got a lot of the island combed looking for hiding spots—maybe she was lucky enough to stumble on him."

"Doubtful."

"Yes, but it's about time she actually contributes to this scheme," Helga said. "Tonight. Spread the word."

Calhoun nodded, left, feeling nervous at this whole plan. If there was one thing she didn't like, it was hinging everything on a flimsy maybe.

But that flimsy maybe was giving people hope, hope for a better life where they weren't throwing themselves at dragons or Berserkers or whoever they were pointed at. Hope for a life where they didn't question if they were going to die tomorrow.

And as long as they had that, they were more effective fighters.

I get what you're playing at, she thought as she caught a glimpse of Momakase between buildings. This is playing a long game on thin hope, and it's better not to get too involved. But if this works—

If this works then we're going to need every spare hand we can get.

Hiro's stomach went all tight and knotted like eels were swimming in it as Obake finally took the splint off, felt along the wingbone for breaks and watched him for responses—finally declared it good and healed.

Hiro yipped, leaped into the air, flapped—

Ended up crashing back to the ground when that didn't stick.

"Your one wing hasn't been used in over a month," Obake told him, leaning over as he righted himself. "You can't just go right back to flying—we'll have to work up to that."

Hiro huffed at that, irritated…decided he could accept that for now. Right now he was further along than he could have hoped—his wing was healed again. He could fly.

He just needed to give the muscle time to build back up.

Spent the rest of the day following after Obake and flapping that wing, trying to get it back to its old strength—growled at Obake laughing at him.

"It's not going to happen in a day," Obake informed him. Hiro huffed, ignored him for the rest of the walk back to the cave.

"Are you sulking now?" Obake asked, still amused. "Very professional."

Hiro huffed at him again, turned his back on him and fluttered his wings a little, still thrilled that both were working again—

It occurred to him that he was once again putting his back to a Yokai, specifically the one who had shot him down.

When had that happened?

Couldn't help but glance back at him, confused—when had he started trusting a dragon-killer implicitly? Falling asleep around him, exposing his belly, turning his back to him? When had he become….

He wasn't tame. He was not.

Neither was Obake, he realized—he could manipulate him, but Obake could do that to him right back. They were two predators circling each other….

Except that didn't account for showing weakness around him. What was he doing? Why? Glance down—

Loft his healed wing a little, considering it. A broken wing that should have never healed straight, and yet here they were, wing healed by the most dreaded of dragon-hunters.

Maybe that was why. Obake had healed him, had wanted to help….

And Hiro really wanted to consider him a friend.

"This is a bad idea," Imaginary-Older-Brother reminded him.

Flatten his ears against that—yes, yes it was a bad idea he knew this.

But if it took him going out on the ice first and testing to see if it'd hold weight, then so be it.

"Oh, have you gotten over yourself?" Obake asked him, amused as he padded back over.

Hiro snorted. "In your dreams." Laid down next to him, laying with his back along one of Obake's hind legs, politely ignoring the fact that all his joints were just weird, okay? Legs were not supposed to rotate like that, okay? They just weren't.

"You're weird," he announced, purring and closing his eyes as Obake nibble-groomed between his ear flaps. "But I like you."

And he did, weirdly enough—he really, really did.

And with his wing free—with flight within pouncing range…he couldn't help but think that anything was possible.

Wait for me, Older-Brother, he thought, smiling as he eased into sleep. I'm coming for you. We're all gonna fly off and live as free dragons.

Just you wait and see.

Older-Brother couldn't help but pace around the little cave he was trapped in.

He was going stir-crazy—had gone stir-crazy, he wanted out he needed to get out but he couldn't blast his way out without killing himself and he couldn't claw at the ice until his talons recovered. His own body heat wouldn't melt this ice so he was simply stuck here as the others slowly clawed and melted a space big enough for him to get through. Mostly clawed, since they found out that the cave would flood long before the hole would be big enough for him to squeeze through.

Another aggravating thing that was keeping him from escaping up that steadily-growing hole: his talons. Because he had worn them down to nubs he had nothing to grip with. Healing-Talons had basically flat-out told him he couldn't leave until his talons had healed enough to grip the ice and claw out, was dropping fish in as often as he could to help speed up his recovery—he was getting fat and lazy and he needed to get out he needed to get back to the Yokai-nest and rescue Little-Brother he had to still be alive he had to—

That one nightmare had become a recurring one and he hated it—rescuing Little-Brother, or thinking he woke up to him here, only for that Yokai to shuck his skin and tear him to bits—

He was going to get that stupid Yokai—going to find him and tear him limb from limb.

Growl to himself, eyes scrunched shut—not helping—that was not helping right now, just….

Flex his talons, examining them—they were starting to look a little better….

Couldn't take it anymore, had to try—leaped for the hole, tried to squeeze his way up, to grip—

Couldn't do either, fell back into the water with a resounding splash.

A frustrated roar ripped out of him—ran around the cave, wanting to slash at something but couldn't because he needed his talons—settled on slamming his head against the ice, hating this, hating everything, needing to get out, needing to—

"Older-Brother!"

He flinched back, stopped his temper tantrum—looked up the hole to see Older-Light-Fury giving him a disapproving look.

"Sorry," he muttered, tucking his tail around his legs. "S-sorry, I just—I kind of lost it for a minute."

"I noticed," she said drily, before pushing a fish into the hole—he watched it splash into the water, not really hungry. "Eat—you get hostile when you're hungry."

"I'm not hungry."

"Then eat it to fill up your big mouth—if Mountain-King hears you then he'll know you're close to getting out and refreeze this."

The idea of being this close to freedom and losing it made his stomach roil—lower his ear-flaps and head, eat the fish without comment.

"Good boy," Older-Light-Fury said, tipping her head as she settled down. "How are you doing?"

Shake himself a little, look up. "Doing good—claws are starting to grow back."

"That's nice—now how are you doing? Don't lie, okay? I know you have to be going stir-crazy in there with all that roaring."

He lowered his head again, sheepish. "Y-yeah…yeah I'm going a little nuts in here—I could tell you every single detail of this stupid cave and I just—" Grit his teeth, look up at her. "I want to get out of here—out of this cave, away from this nest, away from him—I have to get back and find Little-Brother."

Something in the way her throat moved, in the way she looked away, made his heart clench—watch for a few minutes as she leaned down and clawed at the ice, working on digging a foothold out.

"It'll be okay," he assured her. "You'll see—I'll be out of here in no time, we'll get Little-Brother back and…please. Please Older-Light-Fury I want to leave this place."

"That's the plan," she said tersely.

"No, I mean—I mean away from this nest." He thought he could do it—it had been so long that Mountain-King had ceased to push his influence on him—probably thought he was dead.

"That's the plan too."

He blinked, not quite registering that. "Huh?"

"Once we get you out of here, we're leaving. Me, you, your friends, and anyone else who will come—we're already working our way through the nest."

"I—" Throat suddenly too tight—they would do it—they'd get out of here—

Sigh, sit down, looking glumly at a rock whose surface he had memorized. "I'm sorry I'm holding everything up."

"Don't be," she assured him, ceasing her clawing to look at him. "How about a story? Something to take your mind off of things."

"That'd…that'd actually be great, thanks," he said, settling down. Listened as she told him about her adventures with her clutchmate—his dam—and his sire, then just a little tagalong that they weren't convinced of.

"Of course Thunderstrike was always the nervous one then," she said, tossing her head a little. "There we were, diving into thunderstorms with no thought to lightning or Skrill hitting us, and he's circling around debating and dithering and by that time we've actually flown around the thunderstorm and were circling him. Don't do that, by the way, that's dangerous and stupid and really we shouldn't have been doing it either but what can you do, we were young and dumb."

"Mmm," he noised, eyes sliding shut as she lit into another story, this one about meeting a golden Timberjack on an island full of mirror-like ponds. Didn't realize he had fallen asleep until what felt like ages later, jerked awake with the certainty that he wasn't alone—scanned the cave frantically—

"Oh hi, you're up!"

Snap his head around to see a very young Terrible Terror, young enough that he was almost certain her parents had snuck about with her egg and hatching, sitting in the little divot between his wingblades that Hiro liked.

"Uh, hi?" he tried, tipping his head. Yes, a Terrible Terror could fly down here and back up but there was also an equal chance he was hallucinating.

She licked her eye. "Hi," she repeated. "Older-Light-Fury and Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody said you needed company, and they thought I'd be good because I can tell you ALL about what happened in the nest today."

Mention of Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody made him think that this poor Terror's real parents didn't live for their mistake—what kind of nest do we live in that we get punished for wanting hatchlings—

Shook himself out of his funk, making the little Terror squeak. "Sorry," he said, lifting his ear-flaps to look interested and nonthreatening. "I'm Older-Brother—what's your name?"

"Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody called me Terror-Hatchling for a while, but a bunch of other Terrors said I needed a proper Terror name, so now I'm Hears-Everything-Tells-Everyone," she explained. "Which isn't FAIR it's not MY fault I hear so much and think it's SO interesting—"

"Well," he said, soothing her out of her incoming tantrum. "You can tell me as much as you want—I'm interested."

She perked up. "You are?"

"Yeah—I mean I'm not getting much news down here anyway."

"All right!" she chirped, bounding around on his back before settling back down. "Listen up, because I've got a TON to tell you!"

Having her around helped a lot, gave him something else to think about and someone fresh to talk to, one who wasn't yet beat down by the hopelessness of their situation (she referred to Mountain-King as big ugly scary and MEAN, which he heartily agreed with). She'd roll around on his back or curl up in his front paws or in a curve of his tail, jabbering on and on and on about everything that had caught her fancy, through at least three fish dropped in (Swift-Strike asked who was down there with him, seemed to accept his explanation). Finally exhausted herself and fell asleep in his front paws.

"You remind me of Little-Brother," he huffed at her as she dozed thoroughly, back paw kicking—sigh at that memory, rest his head on her to keep the chill from the ice off. Yeah, that felt familiar too.

But having a tiny warm body tucked against his chest made his sleep easier, as was an excited hatchling bouncing around on his back when he woke up.

"You don't have somewhere else to be?" he asked her. "Not that I'm complaining, I just know it's boring in here."

"Nah," she said, shaking her head. "I've still got a lot to tell you, and you haven't told me to go away yet."

Another fish plopped down—he leaned to look, saw a Gronkle face he didn't recognize.

"Hi!" he chirped. "Nadder-Mother-to-Everybody wants to know how you and Hears-Everything are doing."

"He actually LISTENS TO ME, Gravel-on-Rocks!" she barked up.

"Eh," the Gronkle noised before retreating.

Older-Brother dragged the fish out of the water, bit the head off before pushing the tail to her. "So you were telling me about that bunch of Nadders."

"Excellent," she chirped—filled him in between bites.

Yes, it was a little thing, but one he appreciated—a tiny flame that beat the loneliness away.

"I think that you and my little brother would get along well," he told her in between bursts of excited chatter—which started up a fresh round of excited chatter. Yes, he was pretty sure of that. Just….

Please, still be there, Little-Brother.

Please, still be waiting for me.