Okay so I know these last few chapters have been updating pretty fast but I'm going to tell you right here and right now there is no way this thing is going to have a regular updating schedule. Do not be mistaken; I had the prologue all the way up to chapter 3 written before I even considered publishing, and I got stuck for half a month on chapter 3 anyways. I'll update as quickly as I can, but this will not update regularly.

On a better note, across the two sites I've posted this on, I've gotten a lot of positive feedback on the story so far and it makes me so happy! Thanks so much, everyone!

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

~anipwrites

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as he watched the brick fall through the air. Poor old man needed a cane to walk, there was no way he'd dodge it in time, and that's if he even got the chance to see it coming for him. There were five, maybe ten people around, but they could do nothing but watch. It was as if they were frozen to the spot, desperately hoping someone would have the courage to step in and help him, to stop the death they were all sure they were about to witness.

Nathanael's knees shook as he watched the brick fall closer and closer, plummeting dangerously. He was scared out of his mind, please someone move. But the only movement was a mother covering her young son's eyes as he clung to her. Was no one going to help him?

He felt a sharp burning seize his chest and his heart beat fast with adrenaline. He wasn't going to let this happen if he could stop it. Nathanael Kurtzberg was not going to be to blame for some poor old man dying from a construction accident. He was there, he could do something, so he would. Or at least try his best. His grip against his sketchbook shifted into a one-handed gasp as he rushed forwards. He wasn't aware of the fact that he was shouting for the man to 'look out', was barely aware of the fact that he was actually doing this until he grabbed the old man and pushed him aside, away from the path of the falling brick.

Lightning danced in his head as the brick fell on his shoulder and scraped against his arm, shocking everything into real time. The shocked gasps of the crowd reached his ears the same moment he processed the old man's own grip on his sleeve. An iciness crawled up his arm, yet it stung hotly. He almost didn't want to look. But he did.

The brick had torn right through his shirt sleeve, revealing for all the world to see his thin, pale arms. But the thing that was catching everyone's attention was the long, jagged cut in it, open and bare and stinging every time the cold autumn breeze cut through the air. And his shoulder was bloody as well, the dark red substance seeping through his purple jacket and staining it. Just looking at it made the shock of adrenaline disappear and a chill go down his spine. He began to feel lightheaded at the sight of all the blood. All sound suddenly seemed to become muted, swimming around him but his brain just not being able to comprehend them.

He felt a tug on his arm as it was wrapped around someone's shoulder, and before he knew it, he was being walked off. Honestly, yes, he should have been more concerned, being lead off by a stranger. But he wasn't thinking straight. His head was throbbing from the pain, he couldn't think. He let himself zone out as his legs carried him along.

Which is how he found himself face down on a mat with no idea where he was.

Reality and common sense shot through his veins and he quickly forced himself up, ignoring the searing pain in his left shoulder as he jumped to his feet and turned around. His pants were still on, but his jacket and shirt were on the floor. The air conditioning cooled the slick sweat rolling down his back as he looked around for any sign of who's house this was and why he was in it.

"Ah, so you're finally awake," he whipped his head to see the old man he had saved earlier sitting on a little mat in front of a table, drinking tea from a little cup. Nathanael hesitated, raising an eyebrow.

"...What is going on?"

"Well, you saved me, but you were half-conscious after the brick hit you. I couldn't just leave you on the road, young man, so I took you to my healing shop."

"Healing… shop…?"

"Yes! Healing shop! I have elixirs and a few chants I can do, but I also have bandages and more traditional ointments. I figured you'd want to be awake for that, however, so I decided to let you rest. Would you like some tea?"

Fair enough. Nathanael did like tea, and he seemed like a nice guy. He'd never met anyone wearing a hawaiian shirt who was absolutely horrible. He let himself relax and walked over to join the old man at the table, who poured him some tea.

"What kind of tea is it?" he asked, even as he brought the cup to his lips.

"Green."

"Oh! Do you have some honey I could borrow?" the man nudged a jar of honey over to him with a kind smile, and Nathanael added it into his tea. He smiled as he took a sip. Green tea with honey was one of his favorites, it always helped him when he needed inspiration for an art project, or-

"S-Sir, did you happen to grab my sketchbook, did I drop it?!" Nathanael began to panic. What if he had left it there?! What if some stranger saw it and saw his stupid drawings?! What if someone stole it?! What if one of Marinette's parents-or even worse, Marinette herself!-found it?! He could feel his breathing pick up as seemingly every possible scenario went through his head.

"No worries, young man, it is on the table there." the man nodded his head towards the wall, and the redhead turned to see that his messenger bag, sketchbooks, and pencils were all neatly stacked on a table. "I didn't look through any of it, although I was considering trying to find an ID if you didn't wake up soon. Wouldn't want your parents to be worried."

Nathanael couldn't help but let out a bitter scoff, averting his eyes down. "Oh, trust me. They wouldn't be worried unless I died or something, probably barely at that." all he saw was his reflection in the mug, and he didn't much like what he saw. A too-short, too-scared boy with no one who cared for him, not even his own parents. How pathetic. He only felt more pathetic when he looked up and saw the sympathetic look in the old man's eyes.

"Young man… shouldn't someone your age be in school right now?" was all he asked, but something told him the man wanted to know more.

"Well, yeah, classes are going on right now-what time is it?"

"It's 10:03."

"Yeah, classes are in right now. But I couldn't stay. Chloe-this girl at school-she, um, she and her friend like to tease me. She ripped up one of my drawings of Ladybug and brought up when I-I mean, some bad memories, and i just couldn't stay any longer."

"Ladybug? Do you like Ladybug?" he quirked an eyebrow. This man asked a lot of questions. But the environment of the medic shop felt like the air the Akuma therapist had had-whatever he said here would not leave the room. He felt comfortable saying a few more things.

"How could I not like Ladybug? She and Chat Noir are the heroes of Paris! They saved me from when I was-uh, in danger." despite the casual air, he didn't want to talk about the Evillustrator. After all, even the therapist seemed alarmed at just how much he had remembered.

Nathanael wasn't sure he liked the look the old man was giving him. He looked him up and down, and raised an eyebrow, paired with a plotting smirk, as if he had some sort of plan but wasn't letting him in on it yet. "If given the chance, would you help Ladybug and Chat Noir? If given the chance to be a hero like them, would you take it?"

"Why are you asking me this?" he shifted in his spot, uncertain of what exactly this old man was expecting to hear or why he wanted to know in the first place.

"If you don't want to answer, I understand."

"Well-I mean-okay. If Ladybug and Chat Noir needed my help, of course I'd try to help them. But I'm a weak, scrawny coward who cries too much, so I wouldn't be much use to them anyways. But I would try. And if I had the chance to get powers like they do, I-I-I would like to think I'd take it, but… I know myself too well. I'd be scared, I'd chicken out, I'd disappoint everyone." he felt something strange, like a cold dark hand squeezing at his heart, and a strange burning in his hand at the same time. It reminded him of things he'd done, things he'd let happen, things he'd remembered all too well. "Plus… I don't deserve it. I've done horrible things and I don't possibly deserve such powers."

"Young man, have you been…?"

"It's nothing you need to care about. Can you please put on the bandage now?" Nathanael didn't mean to be snappy and rude, but the conversation had suddenly hit too close to home and put him in a bad mood. Nevertheless, the man simply smiled, and stood to go get the bandages off the shelf.

After a bit of ointment was added and his shoulder and arm were wrapped, Nathanael was ready to go. But, he really needed to use the bathroom all of a sudden. Why? He hadn't eaten breakfast, and had taken maybe three sips from his tea the whole time he was here! Not even a whole glass! But he went anyways.

Maybe if he had been a bit more suspicious of the old man, nothing would have happened. Maybe the course of his life wouldn't have changed. Maybe fate never had such a twist in store for him, maybe he hadn't been meant for greatness. Or… Had he been all along?

Soon Nathanael was seriously ready to leave. He slipped on his shirt and his jacket, careful not to disturb the bandages too much. He was surprised to find his jacket stitched closed. The old man must've done it while he was unconscious. With a quick thanks and a bid goodbye, he left, never catching the smug look on his face.

'Maybe I can finally swing by that cafe,' he pondered. For a moment, he considered going to the Dupain-Cheng Boulangerie-Patisserie. It was the best bakery in town, in his opinion, and not just because Marinette took a few afternoon shifts working for her parents. But, as kind as the two owners were, they'd probably still make him go back to school. It was far too close to the school to risk it, anyhow. The time was 10:38, according to his phone. At this point, this was going to be brunch.

He slipped into the bakery and looked around. It was nice and homey and warm, but also a bit dark. It was a warm darkness, dark wood floors and coffee brown walls and yellow-hinted lights giving it a bit of a sleepy feel. That was fine with him. He glanced over the menu and ordered some carrot cake with a coffee. He waited until his order was called before he started drawing. He tended to zone out, and he didn't want to miss his food.

But drawing felt unnatural now. Chloe's taunts were on his mind, brought back by what the old man had said.

'Tomato face!'

'Carrot head!'

'Creeper!'

'You wanted to drown Marinette and Chat Noir!'

Monster.

'You wanted to torture me!'

Monster.

'You wanted to work for Hawkmoth!'

Monster!

That's all he was, all he was ever going to be, a monster! Why was he cursed like this, why did he remember so much, why! Had he really wanted it? Had he really wanted all of that?! If given the chance again, would he accept Hawkmoth's deal with open arms?! Was he just a tool?! Would he say no, was it possible to say no?!

Nathanael looked down when he realized his pencil had been moving, and what he saw chilled him to the bone. Staring right back at him was the Evillustrator. He quickly slammed the book closed and rested his elbow on it, as if closing the book could keep that monster and all the thoughts in his head trapped inside of it. He felt all eyes on him. He knew it was because slamming the book had created a loud noise that was sure to catch people's attention, but his thoughts twisted reality until they were glaring at him accusingly. They knew what he was, they knew what he had done. He felt the panic rise in his chest and tried to avoid their gazes, tried to ignore them. It was near-impossible, but a bite of carrot cake helped.

The cake was nice and warm, and the taste helped bring back good memories. Memories of sitting at a dinner table, his older sister by his side, their parents sitting with him. He was telling a joke of some sort, and they all laughed. His mother had made carrot cake, his favorite, and they were all together having a good time. God, how he missed his older sister.

He let his mind dream until he became painfully aware of just how long he had been mentally wandering through his memories. He rubbed his eyes and lifted his head off of his sketchbook, only to find himself face-to-face with a barista.

"Um, sir? You've been here for an hour, and it's rush hour, if you wouldn't mind could you please-"

"Oh! Of course! I'm sorry!" he jumped to his feet and ate the last few bites of his carrot cake in a rush, not letting himself get distracted by the memories it brought back. He tossed a few cents into the tip jar as he rushed by, his now-lukewarm coffee tight in one hand as he used the other holding the sketchbook to push the door open. He was vaguely aware of someone calling 'have a nice day!' out after him, but he didn't want to bother them by staying for another second.

Where to now? He could go to another park, not the Jardins, but there was nice park by the school? Was that too close to the school? It was around time for lunch break, too many students could be out nearby, he couldn't risk it. Maybe the museum? He did have a student's pass that would let him in for free, but what if they didn't let him in because of his age, or even called the police on him? He couldn't risk it. Perhaps-

A sudden flash of color caught his eye just enough for him to turn his head slightly, and he felt his heart skip a beat at what he saw. It was the clown. It lifted a finger and beckoned for him to come closer, to cross the street and hear whatever he had to say. Every instinct told him to run, his brain was screaming for him to fight or fly, he felt his muscles tense for a sudden outburst of energy. And yet, something was telling him to come closer. This clown clearly wanted something, maybe he had dropped an ID or something and he was trying to give it back? Curiosity began to overtake the panic in his brain, and he almost crossed the street.

Two things distracted him from doing so. One, a searing hot pain in his thigh from where his messenger bag was. It felt almost like he was being branded or something, at least how he could only imagine it to feel. Secondly, his phone buzzed, the indication of a text message. He shifted his bag over so that whatever was burning him wouldn't be touching him. What even was it? Some stupid prank from Sabrina or something? Then he looked down at the phone.

Alix: [yo, dude? Rose told me you aren't coming back to school, so I figured I'd let you know that we've been paired up for a book report on The Three Musketeers.]

Oh, ok, cool. Alix was pretty cool, she was definitely one of the people he'd prefer to group with out of the class. He was about to type out a message when he felt a hand grip his shoulder, his left shoulder, so not only was it terrifying, but it was also painful. He whipped around to find the clown right there behind him, grinning evilly as his grip only tightened and he tried to force Nathanael to look him in the eyes.

Nathanael Kurtzberg was not having this voodoo crap.

For maybe the second or third time that day, adrenaline tore its way through his veins and he punched the clown in the face, right in the nose, and felt a satisfying crack. He didn't have time to dwell on that, however, because every second he waited, it looked like the clown was… healing itself?! Was this an akuma?! No time to find out.

Before the clown could react properly, Nathanael had booked it.

Thanks for reading this far!

Sorry if some things are written weird, I'm not sure if things came out the way I intended but I hope it did! Feel free to leave a comment if there's a mistake or if things are unclear!

Anyone else excited about the Christmas special? I really hope Nathanael sings, his VA can sing. But TBH, if he so much as shows up in the background in some winter clothes I'll be happy. I'm easy to please, I just want to see my tomato.

I hope you all have a wonderful day!