This is a new 9 fanfic I had locked up in my head. I wasn't sure how to start it until I asked vampireocean about it, and then I started on it.
I wanted the story to focus on the red string of fate. I wrote a 1x9 focusing on red thread mainly. That's why I wrote this fic. ^_^
I think this is my best story yet. :) I hope you guys like this fic.
9 looked out the window, the late afternoon sun shining incandescently. He smiled, grateful for a day with blue skies. He strode through the library hall, having stopped to admire the clear sky. He continued with his walk, eager to get outside and enjoy the sun's warmth. To him, this was the perfect day.
When he was about to reach the entrance, he spotted a familiar figure making his way back inside. It was 1, carrying in one arm what 9 deduced was a swathe of red fabric. Raising a brow, he walked up to him, hoping 1 was in a good mood.
"Is everything alright?," asked 9.
1 cleared his throat.
"No," he said, optics focused on the red fabric. "This cape," he continued, fiddling with a corner of the fabric, "I was outside when my cape got caught in one of the branches."
"Did it get a tear?," 9 asked.
"Yes," replied 1 automatically. "I suppose I'll have to sew this. And I was enjoying my time outside."
9 glimpsed at the torn red cape before looking at 1.
"Um," he said, "if you want, I'll sew it for you while you go back outside."
"That's very nice of you, 9," retorted 1, rubbing his thumb against the torn part of the cape, "but I—"
"No, really," insisted 9, "I'll fix it for you.
1 peered over at 9, blinking. He could see the zippered stitchpunk was eager to help, and he wasn't ready to take no for an answer. He wondered if he continued to refuse, 9 would go away, but he did want to go back outside and enjoy the day.
"Hmm," he said, "well, I was enjoying myself outside." He glimpsed at the entrance before looking down at the torn cape. Sighing, he said, "All right, you can sew my cape back together." 1 held his arm out, offering the cape to 9.
"I'll fix it," said 9, taking the cape from 1.
"There's red thread in my room," said 1. "I'll be outside. Come find me when you're finished."
"Will do," quipped 9, nodding.
1 strode past 9, his gait a little quick-paced for someone as dignified as him. Shrugging, 9 looked back at the cape, and walked down the path where 1's room was.
The path was comprised of tall book stacks flanking each side. It was wide enough for 9 to maneuver, and he ventured through the library, passing bookcases. 1's room was located near where the giant globe was, hidden behind a curtain of dusty white. 9 parted the curtain apart, and strode in. He spotted 1's bed across from the makeshift door, beside it was a small block of wood, where a small used candle stood. Over to his left, a space in the bookcase was empty, seeing a collection of thread spools. There were about seven, all in different colors; emerald green, navy blue, black, purple, peach. In the far right, he spotted the red spool.
Strolling towards the bookcase, he plucked it out, carrying with it to the bed along with the cape. 9 turned, seeing a needle thrusted into one of the spools. Pulling it out, he walked back to the bed, where he sat down, and carefully threaded the needle.
Afterward, he started sewing the cape.
9 ran his hand across the cape, admiring its softness. He found he liked the color, and the tone; not to dark, but not too bright either. He remembered 1's old cape was brighter than this one, it threw the light back in a gleam. As he did his work, he wondered about 1's reaction to seeing his cape fixed. He smiled at the mental image, and he continued sewing.
The tear wasn't that big, so it was easy to sew together. Just a few more stitches and he'd be done.
9 finished the last stitch, now all he needed was to cut the thread. Surprisingly, he spotted a pair of scissors to the left of the makeshift doorway. Picking them up, he carefully cut the stitch. Now he was done.
Smiling, he picked up the cape, admiring its color, looking at the spot he stitched together.
He left the room, cape in hand, a smile on his face. He strode back the way he came, maneuvering through the stacks of books layered on the floor. He was closer to the entrance and 9 quickened his pace. The moment he was close to the doorway, the moment he dashed outside, being careful not to drop 1's cape.
He spotted 1 walking along the rosebushes that were regaining their green leaves. 9 traipsed down the stairs, cape held in his arms. Reaching the bottom step, he strode towards 1, whose back was to him.
"1!," called 9.
1 turned around, blinking.
"I finished sewing your cape," said 9, approaching him. He stood before the elder stitchpunk, holding out the cape.
1 took the red cape from him, observing it inquisitively. He looked at the spot where the tear was. It was stitched together in red fabric, looking as though the tear was never there. Turning it over, he tilted his head to catch every detail, and also to make sure there weren't any imperfections.
"Well," he said, "you did an adequate job at stitching my cape."
9 raised a brow.
"I like to think my work was better than 'adequate,'" he quipped.
"Right," said 1, thumbing the lining. "I might a well find a new brooch."
"Did you lose it?," queried 9.
"No," said 1, "I just hadn't had the chance to find one."
"Oh."
1 turned around, looking over at the horizon. The sun was making its descent, allowing for the night to make its way.
"It'll have to wait until tomorrow," he said, "it's getting late."
"All right," said 9.
He watched 1 walk back towards the library entrance, carrying the cape rather than donning it on. When 9 looked away, that's when an idea came to him. He turned back to 1, who was already on his way up the stone steps, remembering the mention of the brooch and smiled.
He was sure this would be one of his best ideas.
The early morning sun flooded the library in a golden glow. It reached the makeshift room hiding behind a dusty curtain that was pulled over a stack of books. Upon the bed, laid 9 in deep sleep. He felt the sun on his face, prompting him to wake up degree by degree. Optics opened, he sat upright, stretching his arms. He rose from the bed, remembering to pull the covers up. He retrieved his lightstaff from its appointed spot.
9 drifted out of his room, looking in both directions until he strode down the hall. The library was quiet, which wasn't a surprise to him. He passed the bookcases, layered in dust, some of their shelves half-empty. As he passed a certain spot, he stopped, seeing someone make approaching the doorway. A closer look proved it was 1, and 9 curiously made his way up to the elder stitchpunk.
"Oh, 1," said 9 as he reached him.
1 stopped, turning around to see the zippered stitchpunk.
"Yes, what is it?," he asked, a tone of mild annoyance in his voice.
"I, uh," stuttered 9, scratching the back of his head, "where are you off to?"
"I'm going to search for a new brooch," said 1 firmly. "I told you that yesterday."
"Right," said 9, "right."
1's glare deepened.
"Why are you here?," he questioned.
9 gripped his lightstaff tighter, having trouble gathering his thoughts.
"I," he spoke, "I thought I could join you?"
1 eyed him observantly. His expression showed he didn't seem convinced, that 9 knew. He scratched his chin in thought, the crease in his forehead loosening.
"Well," he said, "as long as you stay quiet, you can come."
9 smiled.
"And if you help me pick out a brooch for me," added 1.
"No problem," said 9.
The zippered stitchpunk followed 1 out the open doorway, sauntering down the stone stairs. 9 looked up at the sun rising over the city skyline, shielding how face with a hand. He observed how the light brushed the tips of the leaves, peeking through the branches. It was amazing how a little rain could bring back vegetation after so long. He looked away, turning to see the black iron gates. He and 1 traipsed out, venturing into the ramshackle town.
As they walked, 9 looked from the dilapidated buildings to the shadows being cast on the ground. Sprigs of grass sprouted from the ground, taking up most of the spaces where there wasn't metal. Every building was open, allowing for anyone to shelter in.
"I saw a place the other day," spoke 1.
"The same place you found your cape?," asked 9 innocently.
1 snapped his head to him, slanted pupils glaring into him.
"Sorry," said 9, holding a hand up in peace. "Sorry."
The elder stitchpunk nodded, looking away.
"Anyways," said 1, "it's down this way."
9 nodded, walking behind the elder stitchpunk.
The two kept walking down the road, making a right turn, where the walk was spent in silence. Even 9 found he enjoyed the silence.
1 looked to his right, looking across the street, spotting a building between two rather demolished ones. The building in the middle was in better shape, to say the least. Its windows were broken, the glass scattered on the ground. Although the sign was destroyed, 1 knew it said "Jewels." Satisfied, he looked over his shoulder, saying, "It's right here."
9 craned his neck, looking past 1 and spotting the building. He nodded, walking across the road, lightstaff gripped tight.
1 was the first to reach the establishment, head swiveling around to the see the building's interior. 9 entered the building, looking around while also remembering to be cautious.
The building was filled with rows and rows of jewels, ranging from necklaces to earrings. The counter contained necklace still locked away in their cases. Each jewel a different color, even with the rising sun, their surfaces threw the light back.
9 walked through the building, looking at each jewel that grabbed his attention. He looked at the necklaces, then turned to observe the earrings. It surprised him to see a pile of gold rings laying in a corner of a different counter to the right. He curiously tilted his head as he continued his walk.
"Over here," said 1.
9 turned around, seeing 1 standing next to a pile to the left. He walked toward, loosening his grip on his lightstaff.
"This is where I found my old brooch," said 1, pointing toward the pile.
Looking down, 9 arched a stitched brow.
"So," he said, "need any help choosing one?"
1 turned to look at him, shooting him a pointed glare.
"Right," said 9, "I'll just..."
"It's alright," quipped 1, "you can help." He knelt down, running a hand across a random jewel.
9 laid his lightstaff on the floor, reaching for a small silver brooch. It had a blue gem in its center.
"How about this one?," suggested 9, holding up the brooch.
1 glanced up, looking at the brooch 9 held up.
"No," he said, "I'm looking for something in a brighter color."
"Oh," said 9. He observed it, smiling to himself. "I'm going to keep this."
The elder stitchpunk stood up, sidling toward a further corner of the building. There was a larger collection of gold necklaces on the floor that grabbed his attention. While 9 sifted through brooches, 1 resorted to looking at the necklaces, wondering which one would make a good accessory.
9 picked up a gold brooch with a purple gem in its center. He put it down on the floor, reaching for another brooch when he retracted his hand away. He looked over his shoulder, feeling uneasy for some reason. He turned to look at the open entrance, raising a brow. Standing up, he plucked his lightstaff from the floor, optics locked on the doorway.
He heard something fall from outside the old jewelry store. 9 waited, lightstaff gripped in his hand. He heard it again, seeing a tin can being thrown from the left, watching it ricochet off a fallen lamppost. 9 held his breath. He saw a shadow appear in the ground, only it wasn't that of a Cat Beast. This one was different. 9 waited until the beast appeared.
A few seconds later, it appeared.
This own was an avian type of machine. It had a bird skull, along with its original wings, complete with black leather. It had had sickles in place of talons, meant to look more lethal. The beast had one eye, glowing red, scanning the ground, unaware of 9 watching it. To his surprise, 9 saw a tail, but he doubted they were the from the bird's original body.
One word came to 9: Magpie.
9 heard 1's feet shuffle toward him, a little too quick by how he listened.
"What's going on out there?," whispered 1 when he was in close proximity.
"There," replied 9 in a whisper, pointing.
1 turned, and saw the birdlike beast.
The Magpie turned its head, and saw the two stitchpunks. It opened its beak and let out a mechanical caw, wings unfurled.
"Get back!," shouted 9, raising his staff.
9 dove when he saw the Magpie was about to snatch him with its beak. 1 managed to avoid getting caught by the beast in time, diving down and rolling onto the other side of the counter. 1 sat up, seeing a necklace beside him and picked it up.
"9!," he called.
The zippered stitchpunk turned, watching as 1 threw the gold necklace. 9 caught it one hand, running toward the distracted beast. He leaped into the air, landing on the Magpie's back, grabbing onto the beast's neck. He tied the necklace around the Magpie's beak, who flapped its wings. The avian beast ran aimlessly, bumping into a wall to get 9 off its back. 9 looked over his shoulder, grabbing the necklace tight.
"Find something to kill it with!," he shouted.
1 nodded, drifting off to search for a weapon.
9 tightened the necklace around the beast's beak, who was now flapping its wings, running in the other direction. The Magpie attempted to open its beak, only letting out muffled chirps. The Magpie ran towards the counter, bumping its head on the hard surface. The blow was enough to make 9 lose his balance, but the zippered stichpunk held on to the gold chain.
He turned to see 1 run in their direction with what he deduced was a pin. 1 jumped over a chunk of concrete, throwing the pin toward the Magpie, landing in the beast's eye. The birdlike beast thrashed its head, gold chain loosening from its beak. 9 let go of the chain, landing ungracefully on the ground. He was about to run when he felt a claw pierce his fabric, and the rip that followed suit. Hissing, 9 grabbed at the spot the claw tore and sidled toward a farther corner of the building.
9 turned around to see 1 pick up what he guessed was knitting needle. The elder stichpunk ducked when the Magpie dove to snatch 1 in its beak. 1 ran behind the beast, grabbing onto its leg and climbed to its back. The Magpie screeched, wings open while the elder stitchpunk reached the beast's neck. 1 leaped, needle pointed to the Magpie's neck. The needle met the beast's neck, digging deeper until 1 made a swift move and sliced the Magpie's head off.
The beast's body fell over with 1 landing on the floor somewhat clumsily. The Magpie's severed head toppled over on the floor, beak open with the pin still stuck to the beast's eye. 1 turned around, remembering about 9.
"That was close," said 9, walking up to the elder stitchpunk. He grabbed at his right shoulder, where the cut was.
1 noticed this, and walked toward the zippered stitchpunk.
"Are you hurt?," asked 1, reaching out a hand.
"It's nothing," said 9, smiling nervously.
But 1 grabbed at his shoulder, forcing 9 to turn around. He looked at the cut in an inspective manner.
"How is it?," asked 9.
"The cut is not deep," said 1, "but you should get it sewn—which I will do when we get home."
"Right now?" 9 raised a brow.
"Yes, now."
1 picked up 9's lightstaff from the floor, handing it back to the younger stitchpunk.
"Wait—the brooch," said 9.
"That's not important right now," replied 1. "Let's go."
9, wanting to continue the discussion, shrugged, and followed 1 out the open doorway.
5 ran his hand down 9's back, where the stitching was. He raised his brow, impressed but worried at the same time.
"A beast scratched you?," asked 5.
"Yeah," said 9. "A Magpie."
"Never heard of it," said 5.
"That's because I named it that," retorted 9.
5 thumbed the stitching on 9's upper back, tilting his head in curiosity.
"Red?," he said.
"Yeah," said 9, "1 did it, he did the stitching."
5 retracted his hand away from 9's back.
"Huh," he said. "Well, it's a good thing he sewed that together."
9 nodded. "Yeah."
5 turned from 9 to the stone stairs. He saw 6 sitting down on the step lower from theirs. The striped stitchpunk was knelt over a scrap of paper with a bottle of black ink next to him. 6 dipped his hand into the jar, then pulled it out and continued working on his drawing.
"What are you drawing?," queried 5, leaning over the step.
"Hnng," muttered 6, "t-the...gar-den."
5 smiled.
"That looks great," he commented.
"Really great," chimed 9, nodding.
6 lifted his head, looking at 5, then at 9. He smiled quickly before working on his drawing.
"So, a Magpie?," said 5, sitting back.
"Yeah," remarked 9, "looked like a bird. It had wings like the Winged Beast. It had a tail, though."
"A tail?," quoth 5.
"Mhmm," said 9.
5 blinked. He turned his head to look at the courtyard, at the rejuvenating bushes. The trees, which were bare, were now covered in leaves. The statues were worn away, but nonetheless still pristine.
A set of footsteps resonated from behind. 5 and 9 turned to see 1 emerge from the library's entrance, draped in his red cape.
"Hi, 1," said 5.
"Hello, 5," said 1, "9."
"H-hi," uttered 9.
1 gave a nod and continued down the stone stairs, his cape dragging on the ground.
"I sewed 1's cape the other day," said 9.
5 snapped his head to him.
"Oh?," he said.
9 nodded.
"It got a tear," he explained, "I offered to sew it for him."
"And he stitched the cut on your back," said 5, as a way to finish for him.
The zippered stitchpunk slumped his shoulders.
"Yeah," said 9, running a hand over his stitch.
5 looked on at the courtyard, then turned to look at the horizon.
"You know," he said, "the twins told me something they red about. It was about something called the red string of fate."
"What's that about?," asked 9.
"3 explained that the red string brought lovers together," explained 5, turning to look at 9.
9 was stunned, but intrigued.
"Lovers?," quipped 9.
"Yes," said 5, "I suddenly remembered that when I saw your new stitches."
The zippered stitchpunk blinked, rubbing the stitching. He glanced at 1, who was strolling toward the bushes. He looked back at his red stitching, then at 1's cape.
"Do you believe what the twins told you?," asked 9.
"I don't know," said 5. "It might be true, but I've never really believed in destiny."
At that, 9 didn't know what to say. It was the way 5 said it that made him doubt himself, but this couldn't be a coincidence, could it? 9 had never heard of the red string of fate before, so he couldn't come up with a logical response. But there was also what he started feeling for 1. It all started before he sewed 1's cape. He kept thinking about these feelings, keeping them bottled up, thinking they would go away. But with everything's that happened, 9 thought he had to get it all out, out of the way and over with.
9 looked on at 1, his back to them. The elder stitchpunk reached up toward one of the branches, running his hand against them as he strode past the bush. Sighing, he wasn't sure about what he was told, but he was nonetheless going to do it. He was going to tell 1, even if he humiliated himself.
It was something 9 was willing to risk.
It was close to sunset when 9 spotted 1 standing before the fountain. Thinking back to yesterday, he strode up to the elder stitchpunk, gathering his thoughts together. There was no turning back now.
"1, do you have a moment?," he asked.
The elder stitchpunk turned around, looking neither disgusted nor displeased.
"Well," said 1, "it depends on what it is."
9 bit his lip.
"I think you might be interested in hearing this," he said, sure of himself, concealing a smiling in spite of himself.
1 looked at him suspiciously, but did his best to be civil.
"What is it you want to talk about?," he asked.
The zippered stitchpunk glanced at the water quickly before facing 1.
"It's," he began, trying to keep his confidence from faltering, "something I've been wanting to tell you."
"What?," quipped 1.
9 breathed in a breath—a breath to steady himself. This was it.
"It's something I've discovered just now," he said, "something I've been feeling."
1 sent him a quizzical look.
"I," said 9, "I don't want you think I'm crazy or anything."
"Hmm, I don't know," retorted 1, "you might think I'm just as crazy as you."
9 suppressed a chuckle.
"Right," he quoth, "anyways... The past few days...I've been feeling differently about someone."
1 tilted his head slightly, eying him suspiciously.
"Oh?," he said. "And...who is this...someone?"
There was a pause, and 9 held his breath. He released it, and felt his confidence grow.
"You," said 9, looking him in the optics.
1's slanted optics widened slightly. This was indeed something he didn't expect.
"I-I," he said, "my, I didn't...expect..."
9 let out a breath.
"I know," he uttered, "I know. I just...I don't know."
"Me?," repeated 1.
"Yes," said 9, rubbing his arm.
1 watched as 9 turned around. He tried to look over his shoulder, trying to make him look at him.
"I know what you're thinking," said 9, taking a step away from him, head hanging, "that I shouldn't feel this way about you. But I do."
The elder stitchpunk blinked, pupils slanting slightly.
"You're not wrong to feel that way about me," he spoke.
9 listened but didn't answer.
"But I'm glad you told me this," said 1, taking a step forward, "because I feel the same."
The zippered stitchpunk lifted his head, optics wide in surprise. He spun around, taken aback to see 1 standing so close to him. He was even more confused when 1 snaked his arms around his neck, bringing him closer to his body. His lips met 9's in a shy, yet passionate kiss. The younger stitchpunk clasped his arms around 1's waist, optics closing.
When the two broke the kiss, they simply gazed at each other, stumped yet satisfied.
"Are we both crazy?," asked 9.
1 chuckled.
"Well," he said, "we might as well be."
9 smiled, nuzzling 1's neck affectionately. He glimpsed down at the water, seeing his reflection in it. He glanced at his shoulder, at the red stitching.
"I think we were brought together by the red string of fate," said 9.
"The red string of fate?," said 1.
"Yeah," said 9, looking at him, "the red string that brings lovers together."
1 glanced at the red stitching his did 9's shoulder. Then he glanced at his red cape, remembering the tear that 9 fixed. He smiled.
"Then," he said, "I'm glad it brought us together."
9's smiled broadened.
The two embraced each other and shared a kiss while the world outside welcomed the twilight as the first stars dotted the velvety sky.
Their strings were finally woven together.
This story's the most original thing I've written. And I thought I was never going to finish it. (Guess I dawdled with it a little). ^v^
I've really outdone myself. =)