A Wannabe Hero In Another World!

Chapter 7: Despair, Longing, and Loathing In Another World

oOo

His legs burn and his back aches. The pace he's somehow managed to keep has carried him and Mariana far, farther than the rest of the servants he saw who took branching paths to who knows where, he considered following one of them but figured sooner or later someone may come after them and being in a big group may prove detrimental. But he's been at it for a while now, long enough to see the sky darkening, longer than he reasoned was good for his waning consciousness, never mind the possibly injured girl being jostled on his back. So for the last twelve minutes he's been slowing down, truly he'd been slowing down since he made it past the brick wall, but it was just now that he really slowed his pace and began taking in the environment, emerald orbs lingering on every tall tree and peering into the shadows of the forest in search of somewhere to lay his precious cargo and his own head to take a rest, just a brief one, maybe an hour, maybe two. Preferably he'd set her down, stretch his legs and his third and fourth wind would find him so he could carry her away to safety of new lands, or anywhere besides the general vicinity of here. He can tell he's been running for a while because the weight on his back seems to only grow heavier as the seconds tick by. Never mind the burning pulses running up and down his legs.

It seems however that fortune is shining on them as he comes across a larger than average tree that rises higher off the ground. The roots provide a comfortable three walls while the tree itself plays the part of the roof. He tries to think of a clever way to set Mariana down without jostling her too much but the brush inside the provided space masks a hole he hadn't noticed and causes his ankle to twist. His side impacts the ground hard and his leg burns with renewed pain, but he's fumbling to twist and turn over to check on his girlfriend.

Her blonde hair is dusty from when Tomaranai Mori first appeared and kicked up that little dust storm. His hands first land on her shoulders before he pressed two fingers near her neck, they remain steady as he searches for her pulse. Through his struggle in finding it he remembers the many months spent sleeping on dirt grounds not unlike where they rest now and feeling her steady beat whenever they'd hold hands. He fails to find the thump he's searching for and presses his ear against her chest, it takes a while, entirely too long to hear a weak thump. It scares him, it drives away all the pain he feels gripping his body and drills a fresh ache through his chest. His hands land back on her shoulders and he shakes her. His eyes glisten with tears as he struggles to make her open her eyes.

"Mari?! Mariana, please wake up!" He screams while shaking her shoulders, her head falls side to side with each harsh movement, he grabs her chin and presses his lips to hers so he can blows air to force breath into her lungs, he pumps on her chest to assist her weak heart, "I need you, please!"

Her lips part as a rasp and a cough exit her mouth, her eyelids rise slowly, and her dim green eyes look nearly black in the little light they have beneath the tree. Instead of voicing her fear or begging for help, she smiles up at Izuku.

"Y…yo-you did it… w-we m-ma-made it out,"

The sound of her voices seems to reinvigorate Izuku who takes hold of her hand, a wide smile that he forces to spread from ear to ear as he looks into her eyes and refuses to look away, "That's right Mari. We got out. We'll get your collar off and then we'll go far away from here…"

"A-and open… a bookstore?"

"Yeah, we'll open a book store. You'll use your charm and wit to buy the materials and I'll use my power to make copies, and together we can teach everyone how to read."

Mariana smiled at the boy, it was a silly idea that they had come up with one night while she couldn't fall asleep, and Izuku was too nice to go to bed without her. They'd talked about what they could do for hours. She wasn't sure why the idea of a little bookstore seemed appealing to her, but it always made her smile to imagine herself and Izuku having grown old, running a quiet little shop and getting occasional visits from their kids…

"Has it…really… only been… a few months?" She asks, the time between her words growing longer, the nothing taking over her vision becoming darker, her eyes settle on Izuku as he fights to remain smiling for her, cloudy thoughts bring up images of Asterox, but they pale in comparison to the boy kneeling beside her, she can't help but to smile, "Izuku…ai-aishi…aishitemasu."(1)

As the final syllable leaves her lips the darkness takes her completely and suddenly, it doesn't hurt anymore.

Izuku feels the moment that it happens, his new strengthened connection to the mythic arts having come with a new perk or two it seems. Tears fall from his eyes, down his cheeks, trail along his jawline before finally falling onto his dirty shirt or the ground below. His smile stays despite the reddening leaky eyes, his lips quiver to remain in their pulled up position as more and more water streams down his face. His hand grows tighter around her own, some deep hope that he's wrong and she'll wake up again and hold him back. The crying finally takes hold as the smile shrinks and he shakes and coughs and can't keep a single tear to himself.

Time means nothing to Izuku as he cries out in despair.

oOo

She isn't sure where she's going, sure she has arguably the best geographical understanding of the eastern part of the continent and all of its borders, but not even a full day prior the only homes she's ever known was destroyed and taken from her along with the only people she's ever really cared for… it makes her questions why she bothered doing as her father said and ran away.

'For survival.' The voice in her head whispers, it was only just starting to return but it wasn't as loud or commanding as it had once been.

"My philosophy teacher always said life was about more than surviving though."

The voice doesn't say anything back, she's not sure if it's exactly that it isn't speaking or she just can't hear it. To test out her idea she points a hand at a small stone and thinks of her command, feeling the thought radiate outward. The small rock twitches back and forth but doesn't budge an inch upwards like she'd intended. She frowns and brings her hand close to her chest. A torn piece of her dress is tightly wrapped around where her uncle cut her and drank of her blood. But she instead focuses on the thin leather band that wraps around her wrist. The cold metal clasp is inactive now, but it still reminds her of him.

The shrubs surrounding her rustle as she lets her hand fall away as her head slowly rises to stare at the figure slowly emerging. Dark black fur with a dull red fabric wound around parts of the body, razor sharp claws, and a growling about with a maw full of sharp teeth.

'A wolf?'

"Not quite." Ariadne says tilting her head as she notices the vague purple remnants wafting off of the canine. A tell-tale sign of The Kin of Ymir, "I don't believe I've ever met a child of Ymir, do you speak the eastern tongue?"

The golden eyes of the beast widen. It had been years since she had thought of herself as Ymir's Kin, and as the days passed less and less people seemed to recall them. Her snout falls open and Donald closed a few times, as if delayed, her voice— distorted and deep with a growling sound over it— eventually spilled out, "I am Sayuri, once a proud servant to the magnificent Mabufa."

The orange eyes of the ex-keeper widen, "Mabufa of the Ice Barrier? Or someone named from their legends?" Ariadne asks.

A growl rumbles upwards from Sayuri's throat, "I haven't the time for these distractions! Tell me what you've done with the Maggot!" The words are still coming out of sync with the jaws movements, but it makes a wolf growling no less threatening.

"Maggot?" Ariadne repeats, unsure why the big mean looking canine is in search of a bug.

A huff escapes the dog and another bout of grumbling ensues, "I am in search of one that goes by the name Midoriya Izuku, you have his stench upon you."

'Your student?' The voice inquires, a bit more life in the words suddenly.

"His… stench? Oh!" A quick jerking moment and she pulls the leather band off her wrist and holds it out to the wolf partially, "I've heard dogs have excellent senses, can you lead me to Midori with this?"

Sayuri can just about contain her surprise as the collar that her Master Mabufa placed upon the boy is thrusted in her face, along with the confusion as to why anyone would wish to find the Maggot after being rid of them. But she decides to not question the young girl, perhaps in her and the Master's absence the boy has developed a charismatic nature and made friends, are the thoughts in Sayuri's head as she takes in a deep breath of the scent.

An earthy smell, a hint of lavender, and a smell not unlike the rain that falls in spring. She moves to bound away, her powerful legs ready to follow the trail to the ends of the earth so she may fulfill her Masters final order. A slight surprise interrupts her determined hunt as two thin arms wrap around her throat and an impossibly light girl sits on her back.

"Onwards to Midori!"

Sayuri would have once bucked the girl off and maybe even torn her throat out with her fangs, but she was worlds apart from whom she once was, and now she had orders to carry out. In a way she almost longed to see the boy again, it'd be a nice reminder of simpler times if nothing else.

Sayuri wasn't aware that she and the dark elf on her back both shared a sense of longing in these moments for happier, simpler times.

oOo

As the sun begins to set and dark clouds roll in, the dark elf sitting atop a pile of smashed wooden furniture in crumpled robes with his blonde hair blowing in the growing wind is undeterred from enjoying himself.

"A day of victory truly has no comparison." Aurelius breathes out, rising from his uncomfortable throne and stepping onto the thin air before floating to solid ground, many of the rebels line the walls and the old Vandergraff guards that have thrown down their blades, few in numbers as they may be, have already been taken in with open arms by this new force and put to work repairing their compound. Slowly the old lord of the estate is dragged forward, a lengthy whipping session and a pummeling by the generals of the rebel forces having broken him down some but no one can doubt that the old man has retained some endurance from his younger days.

"Well brother, your walls were breached, your forces slaughtered or quelled, and your honor besmirched. How many elves can say they've gone through that ordeal twice huh?" Aurelius begins to laugh at his own remark, ignorant of the pained expressions behind the rebels masks.

"You have forsaken all that we've—"

"We? There was never any we. Ever since that bastard father of ours laid with a cheap wench and forced the life of a secondary fiddle upon me. But take note Artorius! Look at all that is accomplished with just a bit of gumption."

And Artorius does just that, he looks to see rebel bodies strewn across the yard and the majority of his loyal soldiers either bound as prisoners awaiting execution or a chance to change sides which they'll likely deny. He sees the home brought up and built over four millennia in ruins and all the common folk in his employ scattered to the winds because one boy couldn't keep his ambition in check.

"I imagine I am not long for this life."

"Haha! You've been long enough for this life if you ask me, nearly a thousand years?! Honestly I'm amazed the boredom didn't do you in."

"Quite. Well, May I speak of my final regrets or is this another tradition of ours that you shall cast aside in your new order?"

The blonde elf takes in the sight of his beaten older brother, they both maintain the spitting image of their late father, but seeing that stern wrinkled look glaring at him reminds him so much of the old man that it almost makes him look away from his brother. Some part of him wonders if this outcome could have happened without such collateral, if he could have usurped the head of house position through more sly means. But then he is forced to remember that while he might play advisor and ham up his speeches and charm that he'll never have what his brother has—had, rather. That he's no dagger but a great sword. But he sighs all the same and waves his palm flippantly.

"Let's hear it then."

The two guards share a look, knowing what comes after the voicing of one's final regrets, and force the old lord onto his knees, blades drawn— dried blood clinging to the old metal and dozens of nicks line the edge— and ready themselves.

"My only true regret is not leading the Darhkenians, the dark elves as you know them, back into our proper place at the head of the world, or seeing my darling Ariadne grow up to be a fine woman like her mother before her… but it is instead not heeding the words of my wise late wife, may Tyr hold her dear and heed her wisdom where I have not, for I should have done as she implored and run you through with fathers spear the day you returned to our gates."

That was it. Those were the final words of Artorius Ulysses Vandergraff the III, spoken in the waning light of an early spring day during the second era. The final words of the Darkenian noble as two blunted blades hacked him to death, the mortified expression on the faces of two young revolutionaries as they killed an old man who made no dying quail. However it left Aurelius seething, for even in death it seemed his older brother had left him the lesser of the two. Despite taking the power the Gods had given his niece he was no deity and as such could not reach into Genfu's domain and take back his brother from his likely eternity of drowning in the Abyss so that he might continue to beat the old fool for his idiocy. Honestly the thought that the old man could inhabit any other domain was laughable, but perhaps that was his self doubt rising up…

"General Aurel—"

"Lord."

"E-excuse me sir?" The young recruit who'd come running up to report questioned, his spear lowering slightly in an almost dejected way.

"My address. Henceforth…it shall be Lord Aurelius."

The young recruit did his best to remain expressionless. They had done all this to do away with such titles, taking it— even temporarily— spat in the face of all the work they had done and the deaths incurred here today. But he was no one to bring this up, a faceless foot soldier in an army cobbled together by the honeyed words they'd bought into. Like a horse fitted with a saddle and bridle.

"O-Of course, Lord Aurelius," and what a sour taste that address left in his mouth, "we've found a body we believe you should identify…"

This seems to catch the new lord unaware, more because he can't fathom why they'd believe he'd want to do grunt work like this or even be able to identify a body of one of the hundreds of nameless pawns he's collected. But he follows along anyway, the day is his and much remains to be done on the morrow. They walk for a while still before rounding a corner and coming across a small collection of elves. All unassuming young men in shoddy leather armor with pole arms, a pretty young thing of a dark elf lass with twin blades at her hips with crossed arms and tied back black hair stands slightly further away, leaning on a wall, watching the group as he approaches.

"Introduce me." Aurelius says to the spearmen who led him here.

The queasy feeling that bubbles up in the young man's stomach is near enough to make his hurl, but he restrains himself long enough to give a meek speech, "A-all bare witness to his Lordship. Lord Aurelius." The young man had to dig deep into his memory to recall the time a crier had arrived in his village square and introduced Artorius in such a manner, the old lord at least had the decency to look annoyed by all the ceremony, unlike his brother who basked in it. Many of the elves chuckled at the introduction before they realized the young one was being serious.

"Well, whilst I do this, why don't you go around and let everyone know of my title. I'll give a little speech in an hour before we feast and then in the morning can begin repairs properly. Now then, what demands my attention?"

They all exchange looks as the young man runs off to do as he's been told. They keep glancing around to see who will be next to bend the knee and follow along with this game they never agreed to play, or at least, glare at the changing of the rules so far into the game.

"We believe this one was one of your personal guards."

A blonde brow rises as he steps over and looks down. The body has some wear, a bit of beating to the face, some burn marks here or there. But to see such a sturdy specimen be downed by such arguably minor attacks is…appalling. To see his trusted and loyal bodyguard reduced to a motionless body on the ground with open eyes that see nothing and a mouth that spills not poetry like a scholar or blood like a warrior, but instead drool like a buffoon. It puzzles and sickens him.

"Do you know who has done this?"

"It was the odd one with the scarf."

Aurelius and the others snap their eyes up to look at the dark elf woman. Her arms are still crossed, and only now does Aurelius take note of the eye patch that covers her left eye. She has an air of command about her that helps her to stand out, and perhaps if he had focus on her many moons before today he may have even felt attraction to this one, but having the Keepers blood within him, feeling the sensation still linger on his tongue, it fills his mind with doubts that any pleasures of the flesh could hope to compare.

"What's your name, woman?"

"Elanor Fritz."

She doesn't even deign to address him with his new title, he considers reaching out and wiping away this smear but when he taps into the reservoir of power he's stolen something worries him. He can feel the bottom. It isn't at all like feeling your limits of magical reserve, it feels instead like fumbling with a quiver of arrows. While his countenance may not change his internal mind is in a frenzy, he thinks back to countless hours spent hunched over scrolls in deep crypts or desks inside far decrepit manors collecting snippets of information that led him to learning the spell to steal from a Keeper.

Part of him insists that it was a foolish folly to attempt to steal something given by the gods, but another argues that Tyr likely did the same thing! That he had done everything right and that he should have a replenishing pit within himself for the Almighty power!

"What is your role in the… Rebel Forces?"

"A scout and tracker primarily."

"Hmm… find Ariadne and return her to me. Alive."

Elanor raises a brow at that particular instruction, thinking it'd be much easier to find and kill the little one before she could seek help, or worse regain her power somehow and seek vengeance.

"What of the boy?"

"The boy? Who gives a damn about the boy?! Some fluke is all. Magical potential that went unused."

Aurelius recalls the original purpose of buying the boy to further boost his nieces power before he stole it, but his original plans had to be rushed when he found out she was growing close to the whelp. So, finding him was a non factor to him at the moment, seeing as taking whatever pitiful amount of source he had in his veins would only delay his own from draining instead of giving him the replicating pit he desired.

"Hmm. At once." And so Elanor pushes off the wall and begins a slow trot to the kitchens to stock up on essentials for what she hopes is a quick mission.

oOo

The final light of the day shines through tinted glass high on the walls of the king's throne room. The massive court was a rectangular room narrow at the entryway and narrow at the large throne that seated the king, obviously. The entryway consists of two giant rich brown wooden doors with two guards either side of them, inside and out of the room, which led onto a finely woven crimson carpet with golden yellow tassels that ran all the way to the base of the throne steps. The throne itself was a simple affair, a seat made from brick carved in the very town the capital was built, a fine cushion to rest the royal posterior upon, and a form but perfectly carved divet to rest the kings back against.

And upon the throne was none other than the King of the West himself. Elric Yosiff Delier, the first of his name and ruler of the West. The Unstoppable King, the Warrior Untouched as he'd been called during the Great War. The image he struck lent itself to his many grand titles, despite his advancing age he showed no signs of deterioration yet, still his body was stout and muscular and his hair a vibrant golden yellow and eyes a crisp ocean blue. His beard has grown but the royal stylist keeps it trimmed neat and near his jaw and chin with a thin mustache.

His thick arms and legs and barrel of a body are hidden beneath fine cloth donated by the lesser lords who bent their knee to his empire long ago during its most recent anniversary.

The doors at the end of the hall creak as they swing open to reveal a woman, taller than most men and draped head to toe in a deep blue cloth, her posture straight and movement perfectly measured as she walks the distance to the base of the throne where she falls to both knees and bows before the king. Her lips press against the first step where his feet have been and she begins to utter the twenty commandments of Kings Law, only to be stopped by the third by his soft sigh.

"What have you come here for Olivier?"

The woman, Olivier, rises so she may stare into the immaculate eyes of her ruler, "Much has happened. Should I recount all of it in order of missives received or order of magnitude of importance?"

Elric raises a hand up slowly and taps his temple with one finger while resting his cheek in the palm of his hand, "Just tell me all of it in the order received."

Olivier nods and takes a deep breath, "The team sent out to investigate the mountain path has found the body of Iris and several missing supplies and baubles." A slight pause is given in case King Elric feels the need to ask questions, after two seconds she continues, "Winry has made a complete recovery and reports that she could have a new Oak Egg in as early as two more weeks if your majesty gives her the resources."

"Denied." The deep and gravelly voice of the echoes across the chamber.

"Noted. Should we have her brought in for execution?"

"No. Have her find the trail of the Megido."

Olivier hums as she produces a scroll from the folds of her robes along with a quill and jabs the feather tip against her lip to get a drop of blood to scribble the note, "Finally, your spies report that Aurelius rebel forces have moved on and overtaken Artorius estate. A persona user was noted but nothing else was reported. We believe the spies have been captured."

When King Elric's brow creases everyone in the room, aside from Olivier, tenses. The king continues to tap at his temple for a moment, "Send a small team to recover them. Now, tell me of our son."

There is only a brief pause as the woman has to think back to the reports received on the boy's progress, the courier had been delayed by the lingering effects of winter.

"Young Elric's swordsmanship classes progress well! His teachers have nothing but praise."

The cherry woman is unsure why her husband frowns at her declaration, she sees nothing but good news in the growing capabilities of their only child. She wishes to continue speaking to her king but he waved her away, she nods and moves to carry out his orders and deliver the missives she now has, all the while thinking about how quickly she hopes for night to arrive so she may share quarters with the king of the west again.

oOo

The sun is finally beginning to rise, but despite a few rays of light cutting through the clouds in the distance, overhead remains a consistent downpour. The hard rain pelts the ground and threatens to drown the land. If one didn't know any better they might claim the sky is crying for the loss of life that took place yesterday. Despite the fact that she had been running since yesterday, with the added weight of a young girl on her back, she still felt no exhaustion plague her. It had been many moons since she had taken this form for longer than a brief hunting trip. But she believes it to be the growing strength of the scent she follows that gives her the urge to press on, to be so close to fulfilling the final order given to her by Mabufa.

The girl on her back however didn't seem to share the enthusiasm as she struggled to not only remain awake but atop her new mount. However this is a non issue as Sayuri steps past a large tree to find Izuku out in the rain, shoving wet dirt into a tall pile, a scent masked both by the rain and the earth lingers over him and the air.

The green haired boy ceases to push the dirt and turn his head, the green locks are heavy with water and fall over his eyes a tad. But they fail to obscure the look his emerald orbs hold. Loathing, despair, hope, surprise, they can hold onto none of the fleeting emotions that flicker past before becoming empty once more. His head falls back to the ground below, he has been kneeling here for almost an hour, it had taken him most of the night to dig the hole and had taken him many hours to lay his departed beloved within the confines of the earth. The fastest part of the process had been pushing the dirt back over the hole, it was only lasting because he kept pushing and pulling the now soaked mud back and forth.

Ariadne leapt off the wolf and sprinted across the clearing, her feet splashing into the many puddles that form on the uneven forest ground as she slid on her knees to embrace Izuku.

The action surprises them both. Izuku is partly disgusted and partly relieved, it almost feels like being held by a friend. It reminds him of the time his aunt passed away and his dad coming home for the funeral and spending two weeks at home quieter than his mom or him had even seen the man. Izuku remembers especially how guilty he felt having his dad around because of what it had been that brought him home. He spent two months after the fact feeling awful before admitting it to Inko and that hadn't led anywhere as she just comforted him and promised that his dad would be around more. He hadn't, but Izuku had let go of that desire shortly after that event. But he can't help but feel guilty as feeling better because of a simple hug, and the guilt makes a nauseating feeling grow and flow through him. Nothing seems to make sense as he sits there and lets himself be held as the rain falls on him.

Ariadne for her part is surprised by the action and the fact she rushed to perform it. She hadn't known him for long, most of their interaction was brief, and the few hours they spent together playing teacher shouldn't have endeared the boy to her so much. But she reasoned that the sight of him just reminded her of better times that she was beginning to miss. Ariadne was more upset by the fact that her well of power still hadn't even begun to refill, and that draining whatever measly supply Izuku had would put her no closer to challenging her uncle.

Both of them turn to the sound of hissing, a purple steam is rising off of the wolf that Ariadne rode in on, and Izuku can't help the widening of his eyes as the fur vanishes and the proportions change. After a second the purple miasma thickens and obscures the sight for a moment before lightening up back to a nearly transparent cloud that reveals someone he never would have thought to see again.

"Sayuri?"

'He knows?' The voice rumbles softly in the back of her head and she also finds herself curious at this development, "You two know each other?"

Sayuri stands to her full height for the first time in…an owlish blink is less her reply to Ariadne and more an expression of self as she can't seem recall her sense of time, just that she's spent it looking for the green haired boy. A shiver runs up her spine as she notices the lingering chill of winter in her pale skin, she sees the other two giving her a wired look, Izuku keeping his gaze on the top of her head. The boy, who had untangled himself from Ariadne to alleviate some of his growing guilt, pulled off his shirt and held it out to her. She raised a brow at the handout, then her mind returned to her some more and she noticed that what remained of the red dress her master had given her was a torn up sliver of what it had once been. Frowning she stepped forward and took the shirt and tied the bit of red frantic around her waist. The pair of them had their attention drawn by the chuckling dark elf girl.

"What a sight the three of us must make, a shirtless plant haired boy, a flaunting daughter of Ymir, and a ragged looking elf. We must be the beginning of some terrible joke."

Izuku doesn't share the sentiment exactly, he does agree that this whole thing feels like some terrible joke. He doesn't however get to dwell in his thoughts and resentment for long before Sayuri takes hold of his wrist, he turns to look at her and finds her staring at his neck. The scarf she had made him was wet, like they all were from the rain, and its yellow coloration had faded and some of the threads were starting to poke out. But it seemed she was stunned that he had kept it at all. More than just staring at the scarf he wore, Sayuri was reminded of the progress she had made with knitting and sewing, reminded how close she had gotten to making a new cloak for her master and how now she would never get to present it to her.

Izuku sees the twitching in the corner of the woman's eye and although he's not a mind reader he can tell she is on the verge of breaking down into tears, or into a furious rage. Turning to look over his shoulder reveals Ariadne just staring at them. His head swings around and falls back to stare up at the sky, a rainy morning wasn't at all what he needed. He shouldn't have gotten wet, if he got sick— actual fever and body numbing sick— the odds of recovering were low and near non-existent in this forest. He frowned, Mariana had never spoken to him of family, or a tribe or any of the like. So despite the weight of it on his shoulders and the sheer lack of drive he felt he couldn't do as he wanted and lay down to wait for death. He had to persevere now, he had to live. If not for himself then for her.

The tears running down his face were masked by the rain water. He pulled his wrist free from Sayuri who snapped out of whatever mental torture she seemed to be enduring and was astonished when he spun her around and guided her to the cover provided by the tree, he turned and waved for Ariadne to follow as well. The three of them wordlessly took respite beneath the tree from the rain, all the while Izuku looked out into the forest, mind ablaze with thoughts what to do next.

oOo

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading.

Translations:

(1): I love you.