Aye aye wut up I'm back! Yes I survived! Somehow. Hope everyone's been doing well!
Lots of things have been going on recently in my life and I just want to take a moment to thank and praise God for giving me the strength to make it through, and to get this chapter out to y'all!
Anyhow tho ROTC is coming to a close, but wrestling practice is going to start up soon so oof. I'm also doing robotics and theater albeit it's going to be a min until the next musical pops up. As of writing this I actually have to got to the homecoming dance. And I got a beach clean up I need to attend.
Mostly for the food, but someone did ask me out so hey I guess that's cool. Will see how that turns out.
But outside of personal stuff, we're on web novel and to reiterate we're on space battles so yes sir no one gonna try and steal my stuff yes sir!
But in all seriousness I'm happy that I was able to expand this….the more i write about this the more fun i have, so I'm glad I'm able to have the ability to spread this story. The more I write the more I want to make sure this story stays in the decent to good ranges that everyone says it's at.
Which is nice…..but I feel like I'm ass still, so ima keep pushing you know?
Who knows I might have the cahoongas to actually write my own story after I get through this and that Obito one that I'm terrified to release.
But hey who knows….only god knows and I'm just going to say I'm not arrogant enough to act like I do.
Even though I'm writing fanfiction.
Regardless, thank you all for sticking around! And I hope y'all enjoy this new chapter!
Edit: as of putting this out i just got back from homecoming it was fun. But ima bit tired. So ima drop this, and then come back to it in the morning.
Chapter 12: Falling Bullets
She felt on fire. As usual. Her eyes reddened as the minutes went by. The music bumping in the peripheral of her consciousness.
Ground rumbling. She felt on cloud nine.
The ceiling churning. She felt unstoppable.
Machines tuning as she had worked on so far before. The speaker jumped up and down as the colors melded together.
She grabbed a bottle. Chugged it all down. People cheered as she did it. Her hair was still streaked with oil. Without a care in the world she threw it down. And yelled. Everything yelled with her.
She heard the especially loud moan of a duo losing themselves to passion, over by where they kept their strippers and such. Didn't matter if they were of age or not. If they had the misfortune of being found and dragged here, chances are their maidenhood won't last long.
In contrast she could lick the gas of the various drugs in the air. All sorts of things. Nothing unusual to her.
It was a choppy scream, but the hoot and holler seemed to alert her man. He walked over and streaked her with booze. They continued together. Everyone seemed to notice. But she hadn't when he shoved a microphone to his face. The music settled down.
"Ayo yo yo yo! It's Skidmark! Yo I just wanted to say good job on the weapons haul y'all! We bout to light up the bay u know wut I'm sayen-they ain't gon know wut him em."
The crowd erupted in a triumphant cheer. She included. She felt a hand over her hips.
"I also Wanna say good job to that little shit that distracted those losers so that we can grab the weapons! Really appreciate it even tho he's been gone for like a week. But hey who cares about him am I right?"
"Just enjoy y'all selves everyone! Fuck each other and live and let lie! Hah!" The crowd erupted yet again. Even as she let herself into his embrace.
Everyone seemed to accelerate as his lips met hers.
She thought about multiple things besides the transparent touch. About how Scrub and Trainwreck weren't their. About her. About what she'd do.
The ABB had been pulling away and thus allowed the merchants to creep in. she felt bolder.
They all felt bolder.
Then the dim beams disappeared, a grand cloak covered the room in a veil.
She took a few seconds to recognize the music was still going despite the lack of colors, but it hadn't completely registered to her that it had happened. Only that something was dreamily off.
So she laughed by and by. So and so. Her man let go of her and she finally realized something was off. She stopped laughing. But by then it was already too late.
Her vision disappeared in an instant as the sounds drowned out. Perhaps it was the drugs. Or skidmark had knocked her out?
Feeling air and holy from tiger's share. Her eyes widen as it seemed to tilt off her control and into oblivion.
"Don't you feel better?"
"...I guess…." He looked at his hands.
It was too easy.
"I can tell. You do. And I don't blame you. I didn't like it at first. But once you get used to it. It's….a decent option in a fight."
Decent…..
Like how the fight with Scrub went….except a bit more anti-climactic. The goblin didn't get the chance to start before…
"How did you feel when you….killed them?"
"Bad at first. But I got used to it. And you will too….otherwise we die…and we can't die now can we?"
"I guess….maybe…."
"Or maybe not….….we took care of the tinker and the leader as discussed. Let's take care of those two other capes no?"
"...I mean….their still-"
"People? Aren't we also people? People kill each other everyday. And I understand you don't want to be part of it….but the sooner you accept the fact we actually can't then better this all becomes….you need to adapt man."
"You rolled with it before….what changed?" He said thinking about how Muzan had rolled over before at the hospital, and when they saved that girl.
"Fate."
"Fate?"
"Fate."
"I don't get it."
"Remember if they wanted to be good. They could've been. The fact they've been around this long, and haven't changed? What does that tell you?"
He wanted to refute, say something, if not anything. Scouring his memories for something to jog his mind.
Unfortunately nothing came through.
"...they…..chose this…" he whispered.
"How hard was that to admit?"
"Fuck you."
"At least you're back on earth again."
He looked down. At the blood staining his hands.
"This isn't right?"
"Nothing is right Chris."
"...fuck you."
"Love you too man."
He didn't appreciate this feeling he was experiencing. The screams of people bathed in the fews blood as they scrambled and trampled amongst each other.
The piece of paper where he wrote hundreds of words. Each one trying to stress his viewpoint on things, be it as they may, it was all just for a good. It was fake in a way. An application of common sense where it was purely logic driven. Inferred instead of implied.
They were just a bunch of words.
They were just a bunch of people.
Everyone was different. Every word was different. But a word can mean the same thing as another word if applied differently, same to how a human could reinvent a familiarity from the past.
Because everything was the same they could all connect together if they argued it hard enough. Making it stupidly easy. The answer could be stupidly easy but blocked by something else.
Turn it into a book. A play. A song. Tale and fable. A joke.
Then he realized finally. He didn't feel bad about it. He felt almost ashamed.
Yet there were at least a few hundred thousand people that live with shame to their graves. To deny that is to stop it. To refuse is to not allow it at all.
This isn't a test. This was life.
A fucked up life.
A bullshit life. An undead life.
But life nonetheless.
Cross to cross however, he had all those abilities, and more. It felt so amazing! His mind was overloaded with knowledge! All this knowledge! Not the kind from other teenagers! Or adults! But from something greater! His planets explode! He saw hell itself! He made the mistakes each and every other thing could ever convince across the beginning of humanities circus on earth.
Now he saw all that. Now. For what it was.
Under the greatest hemn. Far from the paths of time and even victory itself.
He saw fragments of the beginning, nothing of the end. With forever an infinite horizon ahead.
Different modules, of flesh and metal. Both alive yet not alive.
Yeah….that's what he wanted. Yet there was little to do. The choice wasn't as obvious as it would normally have been.
The choice….
Choice….the freedom….
C-h-o-i-c-e
….
…..
…
He basked in paradis-
"You…fucking…..motherfucking-cunt-sucking-bitch!" The man groaned as he grasped his hand.
"You didn't kill him?"
He was thrown back to reality, suddenly it seemed clear, dull. He looked around again.
People were screaming, some trying to flee against the locked off entrances, the windows in the warehouse were too high. There weren't any light shining upon them….
What had happened to him just now?
"...I guess I missed him." He looked down at the feeble human with a pitting expression.
"You fuckle-fucking-cock-sucking-fucking-fu-" In his delusion, he tried to go get up. Forcing his knees, blood dripping from his tooths. His bones made a crackling sound like fireworks going off.
By then the 6 foot child stood over him by the split second. Sweat pored onto him as he put up his power, for a moment it seemed to work. His hand reeled back. Sharpened in twain with his nails, resembling a violently pointed claw.
He swung. Full confidence.
His hand Going straight into his heart instead.
Abaddon was sent flying backwards through wall of the of building and to the outside, stirring up dust and shaking the building. People screamed, despite that the noise seemed to cackle
Skidmarks ears rang a message.
He didn't lament. Instead he stood up. Pointing at the hole in the wall.
"Hah! Got yo bih-ass, thought you uld-could get the jump on me you-" he began profaniting.
Again and again. Saying the same old, damning things. His eyes red with gloryious addiction and greasy snail like -"
A razored jagged hand went through his head mere moments after. It was so fast it caught him as the word began leaving his mouth, he didn't even finish as the air caught in his shattered mandible, a nasty gurgle.
He resisted the urge to rip it out in disgust. Even as the blood and brain matter splattered against his nails. The oddest satisfaction had bubbled up within. The sort gained whenever you accomplish something meager. Like taking out the trash when it was well beyond full.
He looked in on the sight before him.
People screaming among darkness, some hurt. A few dead bodies already. Some tried to shoot him only to no avail.
"Now tell me….how did that feel."
"Not gonna lie to you…" he looked down at his hand.
Again and again.
And again.
And again. He forgot most of the curdled corpses in the ground in his sportsmanship brow.
Frowning on his gasp. He bothered to look back at the entrance. A momentary lapse in thought. Blissful. The thought of winning. Not through some benign means of-you nailed it with a smidgen of error! Or there was nothing at all-but oh there was and the teacher couldn't see it when he could see it! Or he fucked up a stroke with his writing and it massacred his essay. Or whenever he put an equation into the calculator as a hail marry and still getting the answer wrong. Every last little fuck up and failure came to his spirit like a bear to honey.
He forgot about everything.
Then he realized the body disappeared.
His eyes widened.
He felt everything slow. His vision wheezing in and out. A random urge of violence overcame him, sheer willpower held back by the concessions he made along the way.
Seeing the futility in it, all the admiration and the respect for any moticulm of authority in his life. The people he claimed to not care about when he'd let them cheat. When they'd cry or look at him a certain way. It was all so little and dull and dumb and idiotic and pessimistic and a lot of other things he just couldn't give a fuck about.
That lack of obligation, or perhaps that newfound freedom. All within his embraced. Made him smile. A sort of smile only an innocent could ever hope to conceive. The kind of smile perhaps that Bonesaw from the Slaughterhouse 9 would conjure. Whether to fuck with people or genuinely be happy, but to him it seemed more like a teacher that thought they knew better than him.
It all pissed him off. In his rage the dates were lost. Maybe even people and theories. Only steady emptiness comforted him.
The powerless freaks abroad made him like this, the government made him like this, the schools and his friends and the gangs and by and by and so and so. Even the mothers and fathers weren't exalted from blame. All weighing him down from excellence.
But Muzan…..he was still there, he smiled still. The only one he'd seen smile since…..god knows how long.
Each bite he took, he pint he drunk. It felt like the sands of time were both with and against him at the same damn time. An unclosable distance set up by something beyond his ideals and thoughts and dreams.
But by comprehension? Distance means something against equals. He should know.
He should know he should know he should've known!
He clenched his hands around something's throat. The sound of sickening snap wailed his mind as the screams returned to his sanity. He heard the oddly familiar sound of metal clanking against the stone ground.
He looked.
It was a…..
A…
It was young. Disturbingly young, terribly young, so young it made you rethink things you hadn't even….
What could he even say? That admiration begets understanding? Or is it the other way around?
What should he? Who knows so little to go about with these sorts of small and big things. From thing 1, to thing 2, to 3 and 4 and 5. To make up his mind….it was too frightening to think nor speak. Lasting only a few moments.
The graceless weaseling of those drugged up bastards and sex offenders and…..just….
A bunch of sad losers. It all made him so angry.
But in a way….it also made him.
Hungry.
"Ya know….i can get used to this." Abbadon said. Licking his lips as he bore down at the dead kid. He looked to be 16-17 or so. A highschooler, a healthy pale that detracted from the bloody foam eroding from his mouth profusely. With greasy black hair, and what looked to b
e piercing in his nose. Muzan evoked himself into existence.
"Then let's get to cleaning the house." Muzans eyes held a radicle glint. It had always been there but now…..it didn't scream such a red flag to him anymore.
In fact, where was the flag even at? His presence? Was it the idea he would lose control of his body that had shook him? Who made that up? Him? The doppelganger?
Or was it the idea of accepting another equal into his life. Who could understand a joke as it was said, who didn't need context to laugh, who didn't need some vague relation to say hi and check up on others? To be arrogant to be happy? To be confident and to be safe? To be perfect with absolutely no faults? To be honorable with no leeway for the asphalt of perverted scue? Safety is a sign of life after all! While fear is a sign of death! It was only natural…..it's where thoughts go to die…..He was unnatural…..so the rules wouldn't apply…he was in a sense, without death. Without thought, without fear, without safety.
But Muzan…..he was…..
Something more….more than a human…..he was more than a human….
More than a cape?
No…
Not a hero. Not a villain. Not a rogue, not an endbringer. Nothing.
It….separate from the system. Seperate from it all….something more…
More scientific…..but less reasonable.
It was…..
…..
….
…
..
.
"Something beyond my understanding."
He couldn't help but shed a tear as he licked the brain matter from his teeth.
His feet crashed against the ground in a mad hurry. He dragged as many kids as humanly possible from the impromptu shelter. The ground was uneven; it felt like separate gateways to hell. His thighs burnt and sweat poured into his eyes in an attempt to sabotage his vision. He struggled at times to see under the dark grayish sky.
Trees uprooted and dismayed. Cars smashed and crashed against one another. Puddles ranging from pinky sized pools to aquatic exhibits were scattered around, some buildings still had been reduced to impromptu waterfalls.
In a way it was true, but he swore to not think about it too hard and to keep a hold on the 3 kids. He didn't even know their names, his instincts just told him to grab them and run. One of the poor boys had blood streaming down his head. It was the albino haired one. His eyes remained shut however, his heart beat steady.
He heard someone coming up behind him, for a moment his heart leapt from his chest. But he seemed to recognize the boy.
Hurata. His friend, they attended the same school once upon a time. Before Leviathan struck. He was bleeding from his head, the liquid falling into his left eyes and turning red.
He had a bowl cut, but now it was messy. Skinny built with wide slit eyes. He was all sprinting amongst the rubble and remains. His outfit was in tatters. Dirt layered his face and what wasn't covered.
"Gyomo!" He whispered as he caught up with him.
He didn't look back to address the boy, that'd take to long.
"She's coming, we need to hide!"
"She?"
"She had boobies!"
"So The Black Kaze is actually a girl." he deadpanned as he ran.
"Yes…..at least i think so!" Hurata whispered loudly.
He didn't see how that helped. He didn't even know how or why Hurata would dare to be so vulgar.
He looked around at the ruins. Despite the numerous holes and debris. There wasn't any good cover to hide all of them. Especially with the kids on the verge of crying in his arms.
Gyomo wouldn't consider himself big by other means….but for most young teens he was certainly bulky where it helped. Unlike Hurata who was built like a stick and had the disposition of a sickly dog. He was like a horse in comparison.
He spotted a blue Acura in front of an old drug store. He didn't care to figure out which one it was but it was also upside down. There was a small crevice where they could crawl through into the store. It looked like one of those stores where you'd get your booze and your cigars.
It was somewhat in ruins, but it'd make for a good hiding spot for the time being.
Wooden sandals clacked against the ground silently, leaving not even an imprint upon the earth itself. He double timed. Hurata took notice and started accelerating.
He nudged the two kids he was carrying that were still conscious. He prepared his voice to be as gentle and kind as possible for the little ones.
"I need you to trust me okay? Crawl into that hole and do it quickly before the Slasher comes at us."
The two kids nodded. They quickly turned in and got through.
He looked at Hurata. The boy didn't need to be told twice and he moved in swiftly as well. Leaving just him and the albino haired kid.
The hole wasn't big enough for him.
He gently grabbed and pushed the kid through.
Hurata saw the struggle and moved to pull him in from the other side. After some struggle the boy was in.
He attempted to move into the crack. But he was unable to squeeze his body through.
Hurata was fighting back tears. He whispered.
"Gyomo. Gyomo! Come on you fatty!"
"Hurata…..i can't get through." His own heart stopped as he said thoughts aloud to him.
He could hear the boy already sniffing loudly. It was a simple thing. He should've been the one crying, Hurata probably saw the irony too.
"I need you to be strong Hurata. Take the kids and try to hide until the heroes come."
"Why would you say that! The heroes aren't coming! No one is coming! We need you!"
"No you don't. You're strong."
"You're stronger!"
"But not stronger than The Black Kaze."
"So what still we-" Hurata saw his friend's hand stick through the crack.
A pinkish ojuzu.
It shut him up on a level he failed to compute. The ojuzu was smaller than what was at the temples but still big enough that despite Gyomo's bigger physique it looked too big for the young teen.
Hurata's own heart caught on darkening clouds. The realization that his friend may not make it out of this ordeal in one piece.
"Be proud to live, and to die as a human being. Hurata. Most don't get that choice. So kqeep those kids safe." He spoke softly and calmly. He forced his voice to not choke up. He didn't cry though.
Hurata knew that was the kind of person Gyomo was. Back at the temple he was perhaps the most respectful of anyone despite his young age. He held little hold of others' views towards him and his own assumptions were bare bones and minimalist. He kept an acute eye on everyone. Maybe even everything. He cried whenever a simple ant would be killed. Or if children started hitting each other. He'd always break them up.
He never trusted anyone too closely but held a reserved kindness towards everyone. From Gyomo's own words.
"I am too doubtful of others. But I am grateful for those things. It makes me think of others as equally as sand on a beach. Of myself I am no different."
Despite being 11. He was perhaps the most mature person in all of Kyushu. And now he was going to sacrifice his life for him. The most doubtful he himself felt about it. That his good friend he knew years would end up as dead as the Sentai heroes. Another casualty in humanities war against the endbringers.
If it could be called that.
Gyomo turned his back and stood up. Running in one direction. He didn't smile. He just kept moving.
Hurata wanted to do anything at that moment. He realized however that he was unable to help, and would only get in the way…
He felt guilty, inadequate, fraudulent even.
He wondered if Gyomo had that how he felt….if they somehow felt the same.
Then it hit like a library book.
Gyomo was planning this ever since the city was flooded. He knew he wasn't going to make it…..
"...where is the big guy?"
"He's….. looking for help."
"Oh….did he say when he'd be back?"
"No…..no he didn't."
Gyomo was in the wind, he wasn't fast nor was he slow. However his heart remained a steady beat in the path of the Black Kaze.
His only hope was to find someone. Knowing she was hot on them, he could at least steer the course from his friend and the children.
He'd value their lives to the last breath.
That's what he did.
Buildings in ruined, some tumbled, some with a waterfall in them. It'd look oddly majestic if it weren't for the sparks and sinkholes and the flooded areas. Most of the buildings weren't even safe from it.
He just had to keep moving. To take his mind off of his final act.
The air didn't shift per say. It felt stalled. Like something-
He rolled.
Her foot was cleaved from his body.
He rolled across the rubbled street and stopped abruptly at a wall.
He held within the urge to scream in pain. But he was stronger than that urge. He pushed it down.
he looked forward and saw the Slasher herself.
Her hair was jet black. Covering her eyes in its length as her pale skin gleamed against the grey sky. She heaved in and out heavily as in her hand was a sword. It was rusted and wilted in all the ways a demon slayer would notice. But to him he only noticed the seemingly endless blood dripping from it. Her body was in rags, of which said rags were almost completely covered in blood themselves. It somehow brought a stench of pure death, the kind not found on an actual dead body, but of someone who's lost everything.
The Black Kaze was name that people had given her in the wake
It was he would have thought the Ghost of Tsushima was like to mongols long ago. The bloodlust she emitted was as if the underworld itself had sent an spirit to claim his soul.
He tried to crawl away. With the ground uneven he barely made headway. As Black Kaze bore at him. She prepared to slash. Despite being a small distance away. His senses warned him this would-
A bleached palm stopped the sword in its assault. Clouded by a figure in what seemed to be a white robe. He reeked of fuming medicinal herbs that all combined for a unique sort of stench.
It was like looking at a moving dandelion blessed by Inari.
Even as another Black Kaze appeared behind him to slice his neck. His movements were too clean. Like watching an actual, real life samurai in action!
Two more appeared, and as sudden as what could be thought they were all pushed backwards. One slammed into a broken building with a guy wrenching crack. The other flew and skidded against the ground. Her arm tore open. But she stood back up anyways. Her shoulder leaking the solution of death.
He wasn't sure whether it was the real one or not but that didn't matter.
Gyomo took multiple seconds to even register it, his heart was racing, he wanted to scream. His senses screamed themselves but no words decided to elude his mouth, he was still too busy hanging on the fact he was still alive.
He had prayed he'd be ready for death, but it seemed the higher power had the wrong idea. He got to live. Yet he wasn't ready for that either.
And this new cape….he moved differently from Black Kaze. Upon further inspection, his once white hair was actually a dull, light green that faded into black. He wore a white-grayish collar, over that was a snow white haori. His pants was a dark blue hakama, similar to his
It looked ancient, oddly modern, and authentic. It matched his stony face.
He moved himself to be in front of him, putting his right foot forward. He put his palm up, it was reminiscent of martial arts. He was worried slightly at the idea this guy was going to fight bare handed against a psycho teleporter woman.
But…..If her attacks required luck. Then he his would require actual divine foresight to see through.
She got into a stance and slashed, she teleported. Each and every slash marked with psycho-manic power. It was with wild abandon. Something easily seen through by the unknown martial artist. Kaze had teleported and slashed over and over. Pressing the nimble man. But he was unphased in his movements. Jumping off of buildings so quickly it was like he actually did teleport.
It was like…he didn't know why it was now…..did he trigger recently?
No…..that wouldn't explain how his movements were so regal, so precise, so fluid…..Black Kaze…..he didn't know if she was a hero or villain before the endbringer destroyed everything but she was proficient, and strong, strong enough to cut through steel.
And here was this guy. Catching her attacks and breaking her swords. Dismantling these clones….
Who exactly is this man?
Why did he appear now?
These questions confounded him.
It helped he could barely keep up, long since having stopped to follow along…he attempted to move but found instead a deep, gnarly gash in his foot, he didn't feel it.
In fact, even though the leg was cut off, and it sure as hell felt like it, it was still there. Perhaps his mind tricked him? Everything moved so fast.
But before he knew it….
"Don't worry. Everything will be alright little one." He spoke calmly in Japanese.
He threw his head up in shock. Why was his back tur-Black Kaze was on his shoulder, he could hear her steady breathes but she wasn't in fighting shape. Her arm was all bloody and upon further inspection, she looked….malnourished….but alive.
The man himself lost the stoney facade, instead he wore a kind, elderly look that betrayed his perfect facial features. He looked down with a downcast shadow that reflected the little sunlight barely beaming through the sky.
"Your a hero?"
"No."
"The-"
"Let's find your friends first." He said quickly. He gently picked him up by the stomach and hauled him into one of his arms.
They weren't muscular at all…to give credit they're not as bony as Hurata. Yet….
Here he was being picked up like a child, instead of the close to 5'10 he was, in fact he was close to being taller than the chiseled chin man.
He wanted to ask so many questions to the strange man….but the thought of Hurata and younger ones broke that chain of thought-
"Let's go."
He felt a whoosh of air as his whole body ruptured with velocity. He felt the air leave his lungs as his body completely left the ground.
And his voice reciprocated it in kind.
And that's that.
I thought about actually writing it in Japanese but…I'm too lazy for that. I got 4k and was like 'ight I hit the benchmark. I'm bout to get slumped.'
Cool idea, but I'm not going to act like I'ma actually do it.
Also i couldn't remember whether or not Black Kaze was the name adopted by the world or not…..so i just assumed thats what they called her back when Kyushu got boomed.
But to follow up on the story itself. Chris is losing it. Finally got to this point so now it's probably time to focus on other characters. Like I gotta do the thing with the villains in the bay. Mostly because lung is like 'ight bruh naw' and coil was like 'ight bruh nah' with the whole Abbadon thing. Glory Girl gonna get some stuff too. Might have Gallant in there too.
And that whole ending….I'ma try and not spoil that much with it…gonna jeep my trap shut on that. It'll be picked up on next chapter trust that much.
But anyhow I'ma not hold y'all I got homecoming…so yea y'all have a blessed day and thank y'all for keeping up with this story! I gravely appreciate it and I probably wouldn't care about consistency if it weren't for y'all.
So anyhow bye, be good people, be safe!