in my world toothiana has blue hair and purple eyes throughout life bc i don't think anyone can recognise her without her trademark bright colours.
chapter nine, interlude 1: what a tragedy (a glimpse into toothiana's, bunnymund's and sandy's childhoods)
[xii]
Bunnymund knows instantly that something is wrong.
Sandy knows too, as he stiffens ever so slightly by his side.
Toothiana sits with her shoulders hunched over, small fingers loosely wrapped around the rusty chains of the swing set. Her school backpack lies abandoned a few metres away, Hello Kitty design faded and covered in mud and Hello Kitty herself sporting a rather trendy permanent marker moustache ("It looks even better now," Bunnymund declares with a grin, as Toothiana's mouth opens in horror as she stares from her mutilated backpack to the offending pen in her friend's awkward hands, and Sandy rolls his eyes so hard they nearly fall out of their sockets).
"Toothie?" Bunnymund murmurs, when he comes close enough. He sees her shift minutely, but she doesn't turn around. "Toothie, what's wrong?"
He and Sandy step to her front, and spot her red, puffy eyes and dripping nose. Sandy gives a little gasp of surprise.
And then Bunnymund's surging forth, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her to his chest, as Toothiana gives something of a wail and buries her face into the junction between his neck and shoulder. Sandy chokes and worms his way between them; among the three, he is the oldest, but he is also the smallest.
Bunnymund can't remember the last time Toothiana cries (perhaps it was when they were five, and Toothiana's bullies had slammed her head-first into a pole, and Toothiana doesn't cry from the pain, but rather the humiliation), and so he doesn't know what else to do but cry with her.
They stay like that for a while. Just three sobbing twelve year olds in the middle of a park, in the middle of an usually warm winter's day; a tangle of limbs and years of friendship.
When Toothiana calms down, she doesn't pull away, and instead croaks, "I'm sorry for ruining your shirt."
"It's okay," Bunnymund says. His voice sounds like a bullfrog.
"Why were you guys crying anyway," Toothiana sniffs critically, leaning back and patting Sandy's soft cheeks.
"Because you were crying," Bunnymund answers simply. He ruffles Toothiana on the head and totters to the other swing, while Sandy plops down on the ground in front of them.
Toothiana snorts and looks away. And then she is silent for a very long time. The shadows are beginning to lengthen before she speaks again, and Bunnymund and Sandy are patient, just rocking gently along with her.
"My mum got shot today," Toothiana says blandly, "by the Hunter." Bunnymund's breath stops. Toothiana doesn't need to say anything else, because they know.
"Toothie," Sandy whispers.
At twelve, a hole cracks apart not only Toothiana's life, but Bunnymund and Sandy's as well. At twelve, the first shadow of death clings to their skin and begins to fester like milk left out in the sun. At twelve, they finally begin to see the world as it truly is, and it's almost too ugly for them to bear.
"Toothie," Bunnymund repeats, because that's all he can choke out, that's all he thinks about.
"Yeah," Toothiana says quietly. They don't need to say anything else; she understands.
[xii]
Things change after that.
Toothiana starts taking on job after job after job; she needs to support herself and her little sister, Baby T, and with no support from the government, life is tough on a twelve year old girl with no other guardians to speak of. (And no one really knows what Baby T's real name is. Toothiana refuses to tell anyone, and the nickname itself had just stuck after Sandy had crooned out something nonsensical after singing the little girl nursery rhymes one evening.)
"I'm working at Mal's Diner tonight," Toothiana says one day in the middle of lunch at Bunnymund's place. "They've got me washing dishes, but the pay's alright. It's my first day so I gotta impress them and maybe they'll even raise my wage."
Bunnymund knows that she's lying. An underaged worker is never paid 'alright', but Toothiana is desperate, and she takes anything she can get.
"Okay," Sandy says quietly. He flips her a wan smile. "What time do you finish?"
"Eleven," Toothiana says easily. She's lying again. She'll probably be finishing around one or two o'clock on the morning. "Baby T—"
"She'll be with us," Bunnymund cuts in, and Toothiana's shoulders relax. "Just… take care on the way back home."
(Later that night, I'm watching Toothiana stacking the last plate on the rack at three a.m. and bid farewell to the boss at three thirty. Her chest is heavy, I can tell, but she brushes away any dark thoughts that bother her and heads out into the night air. Her breaths are almost opaque, and when she turns the corner, she spots two figures dawdling in the alleyway, and prepares to hurry past them.
"Oi," one of them calls out, and instantly, my presence becomes stronger. I amble towards Toothiana, leans my head on her shoulder. Her muscles tense as she thinks about running. "Oi, Toothiana!"
Relief and surprise dances across her face.
"Bunnymund?" she asks incredulously. "Sandy? What—"
"Baby T didn't want to sleep without you," Sandy grimaces as the two boys peel themselves out from the shadows. "She was so noisy, I swear I was gonna tape her mouth shut. Kept insisting that I go out to get you. We left her with Bunny's mum, so she's alright, but—"
"You guys shouldn't be up at this time," Toothiana scolds. "There are dangerous people around, and—"
"We know," Bunnymund says gently. He reaches out and ruffles her hair. "We just couldn't sleep either."
He hands her a coat that's balled up under his arm, and realises that she's shivering. She hadn't even noticed. But when she takes the coat—it's too big, probably Bunnymund's own—she finds herself blinking back tears, and curses herself for being so emotional.
"Thanks," Toothiana says quietly, "for being here."
"I told you, we couldn't sleep and Baby T wouldn't stop screaming," Bunnymund rolls his eyes. "Me and Sandy just wanted to walk."
Never mind the fact that from Mal's Diner is an hour's walk from his place, never mind that it's nearing the middle of winter and the nights are so cold that sometimes her fingers turn blue. Never mind that it's three thirty in the morning and they all have school in a few hours.
"Okay," Toothiana says simply, but Sandy squeezes her arm, and she leans into his touch, and Bunnymund musses her hair again.)
[x]
Once, when Bunnymund is ten, he whines for his sandwich to be cut into four little squares, even though Toothiana groans and complains, and Sandy silently slaps him at the back of the head. But Bunnymund is insistent, and finally, having enough of his string of reasons why a cut sandwich is more delicious than an uncut one, Toothiana slices her hand open trying to reach for the kitchen knife. There is no one home, and technically Toothiana isn't even allowed to touch knives, so while Bunnymund panics at the red oozing from the wound, Toothiana just screws up her face and stutters out a sharp, "Don't tell anyone."
Sandy is calm, and without fail he brings a stool over to the sink, and guides Toothiana's hand under running water.
"Get the medical kit," Sandy instructs, as Bunnymund's face slowly turns ashen.
Their babysitter is useless; she's snoring away on the couch to the tune of Saturday morning cartoons.
"Oh, please, Bun," Toothiana snaps, when they're all kneeling on the tiles and the contents of the kit is scattered around them. "It's just a little blood. Don't be a baby."
"It's a lot of blood," Bunnymund rasps. Sandy neatly clips the bandage together, but Bunnymund is still a little green at the edges.
Sandy sighs and stands. "I'll go put this back," he says nonchalantly, too calm for a boy of ten. "Take care of her."
When Sandy leaves the room, Bunnymund's throat closes, and he suddenly can't bring himself to meet Toothiana's eyes. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt.
Toothiana nudges him roughly ("Why aren't you ever gentle like a real girl?!" Bunnymund once asks snidely, and fails to miss Toothiana's incoming fist to his face) and says, "This is the first time you've been quiet for more than ten seconds. Don't tell me you've run out of things to say."
A weak chuckle escapes his lips, but it falls flat as soon as Bunnymund catches sight of Toothiana's hand.
She must hate him. She must hate him so much. He got her hurt and she must hate him.
"Does it hurt a lot?" he mumbles.
"Not really," Toothiana says casually. She flexes her fingers. "Stings a bit, but it'll heal."
"Sorry," Bunnymund whispers inaudibly. He's looking anywhere but Toothiana's face. He's afraid to see the disappointment.
"What?"
"For that." He gestures.
"Bun, what are you talking about?"
He dares a look at her, and he braces himself for her anger. But all he sees is genuine confusion.
"For hurting you," he chokes out. He feels his face getting warm, feels tears prick the back of his eyeballs, and he's horrified at himself. "I'm sorry for hurting you, Toothie, I'm sorry about making you bleed. Toothie, Toothie, I'm sorry. If I hadn't–if I hadn't been such a whiner, this wouldn't have happened–you wouldn't have been hurt–"
"Bun," Toothiana says gently (it's so rare that she's gentle) and she touches his arm. "Bun, it's not your fault. You didn't pick up the knife and stab me, you know. I got hurt myself."
She smiles, and for a second all he sees is a scrunched up nose, the freckles across her cheeks, two rows of white teeth. For a second all he sees is blue hair and bright purple eyes. And in that second, Bunnymund realises that this is the girl whom he will stay by her side forever.
"Stop crying!" Toothiana laughs. "It's nothing to cry over. C'mon, I hate seeing you cry. You look like an big walrus."
And Bunnymund can't stop crying, for whatever strange reason. And Toothiana is the one hurt, Toothiana is the one in pain, but she's the one holding Bunnymund as he apologises over and over and over again.
"Bun is going to win the award for Sissy of the Year," Sandy comments offhandedly when he returns, and Bunnymund aims a hard kick at his ankles.
[xiii]
The three of them grew up in the dusty streets of Stella Morta, together, inseparable, and for a long time they all believed that it would be forever.
(But growing up is a painful process. You start to drift, as people are wont to do, and sometimes things just don't align like they used to anymore. Toothiana realises this first.)
"I'm Kozmotis Pitchiner," the detective says. He's tall, with strong shoulders and a sharp nose. He surveys the crime scene with an intensity that only comes with experience, and his movements are slow, but precise, as if he has every ounce of control over his muscles. "Do you have a legal guardian with you anywhere?"
Toothiana shakes her head, and the blood behind her ear cracks and flakes off. Her lips are swollen and her left eye is bruised eggplant purple.
"How old are you?" Kozmotis asks. He's friendly, warm, but Toothiana wants to throw up. She wants to bury herself into the earth, down where it's dark and cool, and maybe this will have never happened. This wouldn't have happened. This wouldn't have—
"Thirteen." The whisper is dry, quivering, like the thin keen of an out of tune violin. Is she thirteen? What kind of thirteen year old does something like this? "I don't—I don't know what happened—I swear—I just came—I'm not—I didn't—"
"Alright, alright," Kozmotis says kindly. He's a nice man, Toothiana notes numbly. Nice, like what she supposes a father should be like. "You're not hurt anywhere?"
"No."
"Let's take you to the medics just in case, hm?"
They step away from the body, limbs flailed in odd angles, head propped up against the wet wall of the alleyway. Trash litters the scene, and several pearly white teeth drown in a pool of blood.
[vi]
"I'm gonna be a queen when I grow up," Toothiana announces.
"Why not a princess?" Bunnymund asks dumbly. He takes a huge bite out of his sandwich, and growls angrily when another child's ball rolls too close to the trio in the school playground. His unchewed sandwich almost falls out of his mouth.
Toothiana gives him a withering look. "Because being a queen is better than a princess. They're more important!"
"I'm gonna be a King, then," Sandy chimes. "Kings are more powerful than queens."
"No they're not!" Toothiana gasps. "They're the same!"
"Hey, that means you're marrying Toothiana," Bunnymund says. He wrinkles his nose. "Ewww! Toothiana's got cooties!"
He gets a face full of crackers for that comment. Bunnymund lunges at the girl, and they tussle for a few minutes until a teacher yells at them to calm themselves.
"Then, what do you want to be?" Sandy asks, after the chaos dies down. Bunnymund flops onto his back, apparently in deep thought.
"I don't really wanna be a leader," Bunnymund says finally. "It's sounds like too much effort. Maybe I'll just be a commander or something."
"That's still being a leader," Toothiana says smartly.
"Yeah, but not a leader-leader, just a leader."
"Bunnymund's weird," Toothiana says to Sandy, who nods solemnly in agreement.
[xvi]
They're sixteen, and Emily Jane is dead.
It's not their fault.
Not really.
But Kozmotis still looks at them with hollow eyes, and his mouth barely moves as he breathes a nearly inaudible, "Why."
This time, there's no mistaking it. Toothiana is the one who holds the gun, and it's heavy in her grasp, like it might drag her to the ground.
Even Bunnymund can't find it in himself to speak. Sandy is the only one who's calm, who looks straight at Kozmotis and says, "It was an accident."
Except it hadn't been.
"It was Pirate work," Sandy continues, and Bunnymund wants to shake his friend, wants to slap him upside the head, because why can't he see? It's their fault. It's their fault that Kozmotis Pitchiner's daughter is lying face down in the filthy streets of Stella Morta, a gunshot wound oozing black blood into the pavement. The moonlight illuminates nothing but the ghostly white of their skin, soaks up the colour of the blood like a rag.
Kozmotis Pitchiner collapses to the ground. His partner is stricken, the paramedics collectively give a heavy sigh, and the coroners come forward to do their job. The red and blue sirens of the police cars are blinding, and the world begins to mute, until all that's left is those flashing lights.
[xiv]
"I hate seeing you cry."
They are fourteen and they're standing in Toothiana's living room and Bunnymund is wailing again because he'd just stubbed his pinky toe against the corner of the table.
"Why are you such a crybaby," Sandy grumbles.
"Is it broken? I think it's broken. Oh my god, Sandy, is it broken?" Bunnymund whimpers. He refuses to look at his toe, convinced that it would be pointing the wrong way if he did.
"It's fine," Sandy sighs. "God, Bunny, calm down."
"I can't believe we're still putting up with you," Toothiana snorts. She's flicking her switchblade open and close, and Bunnymund eyes it nervously. Toothiana had only recently gotten it, and had been very pleased with her purchase. (She had stolen it, but no one ever needs to know.)
"It's not like you can get rid of me now," Bunnymund says sneakily. "I know all your secrets."
(Toothiana laughs, but it fades away quickly. In her pocket, there's a molar, still bloody where it had been pulled at the root. She clenches her hands around it, lets it go, and then moves forward to thump Bunnymund on the head.)
[v]
"It's mine!" Bunnymund screams, and Sandy screams back, possibly even louder, with a responding, "MINE!"
"No," Toothiana snarls, "Mine."
They all glare at each other, the challenge burning bright, before Sandy begins running to the corner store, and Bunnymund successfully trips him, and Toothiana almost rips away a clump of Bunnymund's hair, as they wage war on who would get the chocolate-flavoured ice cream this time.
The shopkeeper sighs at his wife, but it's tinged with affection as he watches the kids battle it out in front of the freezer.
"They never change," he remarks, and his wife chuckles beside him.
(What a tragedy, I muse. Stories like these never get happy endings.)
author's note:
bc i am tokyo ghoul trash tbqh.
some background info—
the pirates - a very old gang, possibly one of the oldest gangs in stella morta's history. (based off characters of the same name from author william joyce's series the guardians of childhood; they were there before pitch black even became pitch black (they were, in fact, partially responsible for his creation, alongside fearlings and nightmare men).)
the hunter - based off the mysterious hunter in the novels too (he killed toothiana's parents and tried to kill her).
emily jane - more on her later
and to plouf that anonymous french reviewer from ch. 8: ?¿why?¿? tell me why?¿?¿ why was it disappointing?¿?¿
i am sooo sorry it's taken so long again. buuuut i finished my first batch of examinations so i'm all free for a month hurrrr. the next chapter is in the process of being written, so hopefully it should be up soon.
also, this fic is slowly getting moved over to ao3 as well (same username, same title), so if u like that site better check it out over there. but i'm only up to like ch. 2 bc i keep forgetting to add more chapters ;A;
until next time! thank u all for your lovely reviews ^^ in the next chapter we'll be back to the main plot line.
updated: 26 June 2015