I live. Here we go. The next chapter. I've also started my first eight hour job. Very exasperating.
Wrote this all last weekend. Hope it's ok.
-SpiritOfErebus
"So, this is Iida's insecurity, or perhaps, his greatest fear." Hans said, looking at the crowd of armored figures chasing around Iida in his slowly dilapidating UA uniform.
In a way, Iida was much more resistant to the effects of the reality marble than literally anybody else here, because he was canon-adjacent by being in the same class as the main character, as well as actually being on decent standing with them. Perhaps there was an arc about him getting character development in the future, but either Hans's presence in this world messed it up, or it had yet to happen.
But it was clearly expectations. Rusted suits of armor with various thrusters sticking out at other body parts indicated that the people chasing him were probably his ancestors, and him wearing the dilapidating UA uniform meant slowly slipping away from his ideals as a hero.
After all, the goal of the reality marble was to grind your identity into dust, before absorbing it as mana. It made sense that having somebody face their greatest fear would be the easiest procedure to follow for people to give up.
Either way, it was funny to look at for a moment.
And only for a moment.
As Iida engaged his thrusters once more to dodge the grasps of what were presumably his ancestors, each groaning something about how he was a disappointment to the family (without actually saying the name of his family, so as not to actually let Iida leave), Hans decided that it was time to step in.
"Your name is Iida Tenya!" Hans shouted. "Now get out of this place!"
Abruptly, the suits of armor shattered into blue light, leaving nothing behind. Falling to the ground now that he had no need to dodge, Iida also began to fade away.
"Wait, Hans, you were here the whole time?"
"Just got here." Hans said. "And I'll be putting an end to this."
"You don't need help?"
"Your arm's gone." Hans said, gesturing to Iida's fading body. "Besides, I don't think you know how to stay in this world."
"Wait, world? Does this mean that this is an entirely separate world?" Iida said, flabbergasted.
"Magic is real." Hans said, knowing that Iida wouldn't remember anything said within this particular reality marble.
"Ah. That would explain it." Iida nodded. "Wait, what?"
Then, he was gone, finally disappearing into vaguely golden sparks. After all, it was as simple as telling Iida his name again for him to be free. No narrative significance was added to Hans's collection, as he had already used Iida's description to isolate his own tales from the part of him that was absorbed into Nursery Rhyme.
"If only it was as easy for everybody else…" Hans sighed. Not knowing people's names was hard when trying to free them from Nursery Rhyme's reality marble.
Turning away from the suddenly silent clearing, Hans continued walking aimlessly. There were no reference points at all within the barren reality marble. Finding the people would have to be either purely based off of luck, or Nursery Rhyme going to him to finish him off.
Despite everything, Hans was still very slow and not good at traveling long distances.
"Very well." Hans muttered. "Then, come as close as you like."
…
Iida stumbled out of the fog, his leg armor loudly clinking as he walked towards the light.
What had just happened? He had just tried to kick the floating villain… and then he was just… here.
"Freeze!" people ahead of him shouted, pointing taser guns at him. Blearily, still blinking the lights out of his eyes, Iida raised his hands.
"He's my brother!" Tensei shouted. "Stand down, stand down!"
Quickly, the policemen called to the scene retreated, allowing Iida to get behind their line. Behind them, two people wrapped in blankets sat on a stretcher bed, holding mugs of warm beverages, recounting their experiences.
"I was just… going to watch a movie. The poster interested me." a green, lizard person said. "And I called over my buddy Chizome over here to watch it with me."
"Yeah." the other civilian nodded. His nose was conspicuously missing, but in this society of frequent villain attacks, it wasn't so rare. "I don't get out much, because of, you know…"
"I understand." the policeman taking record nodded, scribbling more things down on his notepad. "Please continue."
"Then, there was this… fog." the lizard person said. "And everything was swallowed."
"What's in the fog?" the policeman asked.
"I… don't remember. After the fog swallowed us up, we just woke up in the center. What… what time is it?"
"It's been two hours since the incident began." the policeman dutifully told the two civilians.
"Two hours?" Iida exclaimed.
"And you are…" the policeman said.
"Hero-In-Training Iida, hero name… not determined." Iida stated, giving a salute. "I was also trapped in the mist. So, it's been two hours?"
"Indeed." the policeman nodded. "Currently, there are approximately fifty civilians and one hero-in-training trapped within… whatever this is."
"Andersen-san is still in there?"
"The intern to Ingenium known as Hans Christian Andersen, the literary observer hero is still in there." the policeman confirmed. "Did he just use his own name as his hero name?"
"...Yes." Iida sighed.
"So, now, what we're trying to do here with the interviews… is to determine why Ingenium, these two, and you were released. Clearly, something's happening in there that's freeing you. Do you feel like your energy was absorbed… or anything? A lot of people-consuming villains have this kind of power."
Iida mutely shook his head, before looking back into the ethereal cloud of mist. Intuitively, he knew that somehow, Hans had saved them. The little girl seemed to know Hans specifically. Even talked to him.
"Do your records show if Andersen-san had any interactions with villains in the past?"
"Other than saving one of Stain's victims, no."
Behind the policeman, one of the civilians scratched his forehead awkwardly.
"And yes, many bystanders were able to say that Hans Christian Andersen did talk with the villain for quite the while before they engaged each other in a brief battle. Do you think your fellow intern has a quirk that can deal with this situation?"
"No idea." Iida sighed. "His quirk is… weird. But I think he got us out somehow. Now… let's hope he can get everybody else out."
Looking at the industrial fans being set up in order to just try and blow away the fog, Iida tried to peer deeper into the fog. Somehow, somewhere, fifty civilians, the villain, and Hans were still in there.
"...Please." Iida muttered. "Be safe."
…
After fifteen minutes of wandering, Hans finally spotted something. Which was weird, considering the fact that before the fifteen minutes, he could see nothing but flat land covered in snow.
In the distance, a series of buildings emerged. It attempted to be subtle and blend in with the ground along with the snow piles, trying to pretend as if it had been there the whole time.
Obviously, it had not. This was obviously Nursery Rhyme's creation. Nursery Rhyme's tactics clearly involved absorbing him and the civilians that remained in the reality marble quickly, so that she could expand her reality marble and finally start the cascade that would eventually consume the entire earth. "How cliche."
And she was definitely rushing this, considering the sloppy craftsmanship in trying to hide the buildings. She could have made the town begin to emerge in a hole under Hans's feet. Therefore, it was an indication that Nursery Rhyme was also on a time limit.
But at the same time, Hans was running out of energy. His narrative significance was being drained every second he was in this accursed reality marble trying to consume his very existence.
So, both sides were looking for each other. And neither Hans nor Nursery Rhyme wanted to gamble on how much energy each other had. Therefore, they needed to approach each other to defeat each other.
"Heh." Hans chuckled. "Now, what kind of nonsense will she throw at me now?"
Given the amount of civilians in a movie theater, it was nearly impossible to identify each person's insecurity, deliver a targeted insulting session that drives out their rage tied to a core piece of their identity, and free them. Each one would take too much time, induce resistance from Nursery Rhyme, and then result in his own death.
Therefore, he had to observe first. Perhaps… there was an easier way.
Finally entering the buildings in earnest, he noticed that it seemed almost like a mockery of a small, rural village. Despite the obviously rural-based architecture, with rickety huts, fence lines, and a crude, snow-covered dirt path, nothing actually led anywhere. The roads twisted and turned ahead, clearly indicating that Hans didn't put any depth into his worldbuilding when writing the simple fairytale that was The Little Match Girl, which was the tale that Nursery Rhyme was currently committing identity fraud with.
Instead, this was most likely a mental representation of The Little Match Girl. Here, the world was twisted, bleak, hopeless, and cruel. The cold would freeze anybody to death very, very slowly. Their only hope, the kindness of strangers, did not exist in the slightest. Though the huts themselves, while slightly rickety on the outside, seemed to almost emanate heat, they were surrounded by thorny bushes, sharpened fences, and lawns that almost seemed to have needles for lawns.
"Yeah, I get the imagery already." Hans muttered. "That.. isn't close to reality at all."
After creeping through some more of the rural setting, wading through bushes, frigid snow, and frozen mud, he finally arrived at two adjourning barns. Why the barns were next to each other and formed a convenient street corner was completely unknown. Barns were not things that should be next to each other, considering that there was usually one per each farm… and they wouldn't be able to be in a residential area, anyways.
Still, it existed.
As he stepped into sight of the barn, he suddenly bumped into something.
"Oh, sorry." Hans muttered reflexively, backing away from the pair of leather shoes that he had almost stepped on.
Then, he almost backed into yet another person. This time, he nearly collided with a cooked turkey. Although… was it really a turkey?
Looking at it more closely, instead of a bird, Hans saw a bag filled with coupons and free tickets to spa destinations.
"That's weird." Hans muttered. "What's going on here?
Turning his gaze up, he saw an indistinct, gray, shadowy figure wearing a tophat walk away from him, not even noticing him. In fact, he was surrounded by such figures, each carrying a different aspect of Hans's dreams. The vacation tickets symbolizing his desired relaxation. Doves in cages, most likely symbolizing peace and serenity. There were books with his name on it, carried by the indistinct gray figures, along with occasional bags of money.
"So… this is what we want. These are the things that we sell the matches for." Hans said, looking around. "In a sense, this is our own, personal hell. Everything that we want is just slightly out of reach."
Then, somebody bumped into him.
"Please, sir. Please buy a match." a balding thirty year old said to him, his expression sullen, and yet, fearful.
"Uhmm…" Hans pondered. Was he a bug in the personal hell of somebody else? What happens if he bought the match? Would the salaryman trapped in this illusion be fulfilled and end his torture?
"You don't have anything I want." the salaryman muttered, turning his head and salivating at another thing that one of the indistinct gray blobs said. "Oh, crap. They're coming!"
Hans turned around, and saw nothing. Then, he turned back to look at the reflection in the man's wide-open eyes. A veritable tide of papers slowly approached him.
"No, not more work. No, no, no." he muttered, holding the match forwards like it was some sort of talisman. "I swear, I'll light it! I'll burn you all to smithereens!"
The match ignited, and the man threw it. In the reflection on his eyes, Hans saw as the tide of paper shrank back, ignited by the blaze. The man laughed maniacally, pointing at the retreating tide.
"That'll show them!"
Then, the fire went out.
Slowly, the expression of elation faded, and the man scurried back into the crowd, presumably chased by the tide of creeping paperwork.
"No! No more homework!" a child shouted, running, presumably, from his own illusionary stack of papers.
As Hans spun in place, he saw the civilians running in the mockery of a world. Each one carrying a basket of matches, chased by their own illusions of their problems and fears, each one bartering with the cold, unfeeling caricatures carrying the very things they worked so hard to achieve.
Yet, with only the matches, they were powerless to barter with the dark figures that wanted absolutely nothing with them. The matches could only stave off the monsters for so long, as well, each person only had one basket. Some people were still running the streets, trying to barter with the faceless figures. Others stared at the flames, enchanted by the beauty and safety that the fire of the matches provided.
"Yep. This pretty much got the little match girl's theme down." Hans nodded. "I'm surprised. You actually seemed to understand the assignment."
Then, behind him, the buildings shifted. The civilians teleported into what seemed like a gigantic matchbox floating into the sky, scared and confused.
"Sometimes, I really wonder what you humans are made of." Nursery Rhyme's voice said from behind him. "You all just don't know when to quit."
"That's true." Hans mused. "Hope can only really burn for so long."
The two looked at each other, neither backing down as the people continued to bustle about.
"But it's a miracle that none of them have exhausted all their matches yet." Nursery Rhyme said, slightly irritated. "I send their worst fears after them. I show them that they're powerless to get what they want. Why do they still insist on clinging to it?"
"It's irrational."
"Quite."
Despite supposedly being at each other's throats, Nursery Rhyme and Hans observed the people trapped in the matchbox, each one offering each other matches, before realizing that the people they were trying to sell matches to didn't have anything they needed.
"So, you've finally arrived here." Nursery Rhyme said. "As you can see, eventually, they'll finally give up. And you're powerless to stop them from giving up. After all, I control the reality marble."
"That's right." Hans said calmly.
"At any second, I can use my powers to finally shred your spirit origin."
"Indeed."
"This is the end, for you and the others."
"...I may have to disagree with that one." Hans said, putting his hands into the pockets of his oversized lab coat.
"Really?" Nursery Rhyme said. "Really? After acknowledging that I hold the advantage here, you still disagree? I thought you were rational, Hans Christian Andersen."
"Perhaps too rational." Hans nodded, standing up and kicking the snow with his shoes. The bit of snow made a hopeless leap for the sky, "Despite everything, there's still something you don't understand. And because of that reason, you've lost."
"...I've lost?" Nursery Rhyme said, her youthful face wearing an expression that really didn't belong there. "What on earth could you possibly mean? You surely must be joking, right?"
"Don't worry. I didn't get it at first, either." Hans said, grinning. "But you won't be taking the energy of those humans."
"I'll still take you."
"And I'll have you know that I'm just a heroic spirit." Hans said. "Absorbing me gives you no mana. In fact, you may actually inherit my debt of mana to this world."
"You do have a host. And if I absorb your host, I control you."
"...Perhaps." Hans said, looking to the side a bit, not exactly making eye contact.
"Your tales will sustain me, Hans. But I'd rather have you as an equal."
"Why?" Hans said.
"Kiara is out there. I've hijacked her ritual, but she is by no means dead. Two heroic spirits against one is much fairer, don't you think? You want her gone too, right?
"She… she's actually here?"
"Don't tell me you didn't look at the movie poster." Nursery Rhyme said, materializing one of the posters. Kiara, in a slightly provocative manner, lay upon a gigantic clam and smiled up at Hans from within the image.
…
At first, the other heroic spirit was absolutely panicked. Hans Christian Andersen nearly tripped over on the snow that Nursery Rhyme created, but managed to regain his balance just to look back at the face.
"Heh." Nursery Rhyme thought. "I have him."
Taking the poster for himself from her hands, Hans's eyes remained wide open. Here was her opportunity. Her opportunity to make Hans submit. With his skills, Nursery Rhyme would be able to finally have a form.
But then, Hans… laughed. He laughed, and ripped up the poster. It dissolved into magical blue shards, and slowly blew away in the wintery winds.
"Thanks to you, I no longer have to worry about her." he said, grinning. "After all, if I die here, she'll no longer be interested in this world."
"So you'll just be content to die here? She'll be unopposed, in this world." Nursery Rhyme argued. Rage was building.
"She will." Hans agreed. "But then, it wouldn't be my problem, would it? Again, she'll have lost interest in this world, as well."
"Then why not join me? Would you just let this world crumble to dust?"
"It won't. She'll have lost interest. The only thing this world will lose… is me."
"Fine, then. I'll just get rid of you right now." Nursery Rhyme sighed. "Your mind and spirit origin will be trapped in that of a puppet's body, forever entombed within my reality marble. This is the fate you've chosen."
"...Yup." Hans said.
Gritting her teeth, Nursery Rhyme snapped her fingers. The indistinct gray figures appeared once more, before shiny, steely armor appeared on their bodies. With spears and swords appearing on them, they proceeded to run towards Hans.
Being in a childlike body, the heroic spirit couldn't get too far before being mobbed down by the shadowy figures.
"I don't even bleed!" Hans shouted. "What, is this supposed to intimidate me?"
Nursery Rhyme snapped her fingers. Slowly, a pool of blood oozed onto the frozen ground. The beating continued for a while, before Nursery Rhyme snapped her fingers.
The soldiers stopped.
"Truly, I don't want to kill you. Your spirit origin is still useful. We could still work together to defeat Kiara. But now that you've resisted…"
Hans coughed on the ground, pawing at the illusionary blood. It dripped down from his fingers.
"S…"
"Sorry? Are you, Hans Christian Andersen, actually apologizing?"
"S…sloppy craftsmanship." Hans croaked. "But I'll give you one thing. I do want to live."
"Then join me."
"On a condition." Hans said. "Prove to me that this world truly is hopeless."
"Very well." Nursery Rhyme said, leaving Hans in his pool of blood. "Let's see, then."
Beneath them, the floor became transparent, and the actual people in the reality marble teleported underneath, into another version of the barn corner. There, they milled about, although this time, Nursery Rhyme allowed Hans to see the different layered illusions phasing through the dark figures, only scaring a certain group of people each time.
It always was something like this. Work. Digital reports. Papers. Spiders. One person was particularly scared of cheese graters, for some reason.
"Were the cheese graters intentional?" Hans said, pointing down at the walking, talking cheese graters that Nursery Rhyme was forced to simulate for one particular person.
"Yes." Nursery Rhyme sighed. "Somebody is very afraid of cheese graters, for some reason. But I'm not the character analysis person here. I honestly have no idea why."
Slowly, matches were thrown. The illusionary fire burned through the monsters, temporarily stalling them, but never actually killing them.
After all, the light of the matches were only fantasies. They could never truly become the real thing. It was like that in the tale, and it was so here.
Nursery Rhyme slowly smiled, and she looked at Hans growing paler and paler, his blood still seeping into the ground behind him as he fidgeted with the snow. His gaze, focused on the humans bumbling about with her creations, however, was never lifted.
The fires continued to rage, but at last, the humans were cornered. Down to their last match, unable to get anything they wanted from the faceless creations, and surrounded by their worst fears. The collective representation of their fears slowly coiled around them, waiting for them to give up the last bit of their hope, before forever being swallowed by them.
Nursery Rhyme was about to win.
"So, this aligned perfectly with the fairy tale." Nursery Rhyme said. "At last, they'll burn the last of their matches and die in the aftermath of their dreams, finally reduced to nothing but ashes and forlorn memories. I win."
"Not yet." Hans said, looking at the people.
"What? What could you possibly expect from reality?" Nursery Rhyme said. "In the form of a poster, I observed you. I listened to what you've done in this world. You pointed out how this society was broken, and how the hero system is dubious. Surely, you see how trying to fight back is futile, especially in this world."
"Yes, the world may be like this, but have the people given up? Because you've miscalculated."
"...What?" Nursery Rhyme said.
"You've based your plans off of my description of reality." Hans said, standing up and laughing. "Did you really think that I'd be right? I wrote this tale when I was depressed after reading about a girl selling matches when I was forty. People are hardy, and the very fact that they have hope means that they won't give up. After all, our goals can change. Our fears can be whatever they want to be, but our never ending desire is… to have something to hope for. Therefore, your plan was flawed from the start!"
"What can you do now?"
"Oh, nothing." Hans said, grinning. "All I can do now is give them a little… push."
A small pulse of blue resonated through the reality marble, and Nursery Rhyme finally noticed the writing in the bright, white snow.
Amidst the crowd of people, one person stood up.
"I'm not… giving up." they said. "I'll do it! I'll finish the paperwork!"
Nursery Rhyme floated into the air, over the scene under the transparent floor. This couldn't be happening. How did Hans Christian Andersen activate his noble phantasm? She had made it so that no possibility of writing existed within her reality marble!
"What? But… how…"
"You didn't give me anything to write with." Hans said. "You gave me paper, but no pens, at the beginning of my journey here. You've even made marks that are made into the snow disappear, to prevent me from storing my words there. But the very fact that you made me bleed means that there is one unregulated factor you've put in your reality marble. Which is the blood that you made me bleed."
"This still doesn't change anything." Nursery Rhyme said, "They'll still be consumed by their fears! Does giving them a little push solve anything?"
"Fears are natural. You can never eliminate fear. But you misinterpreted one thing. The little girl isn't afraid of the cold, but the despair and lack of opportunity that it brings. All that I need to do for them … is to let them realize that the thing they've wanted all along, is within the palm of their hand already. Then, they'll have no reason to keep being in your illusion, and finally remember the taste… of hope. That's the best I can do."
"No…" Nursery Rhyme muttered, watching as the people huddled within the barn corner suddenly stood up. Another flash of blue appeared, and suddenly, they were dressed in silver armor and wielding silver spears.
"Death to homework!" a schoolboy roared.
"No more twelve hour work days!" a salaryman shouted.
"I'll finally stop being remembered… as the guy… that has a cheese grater as a head!" somebody roared.
"So that's why you sounded like a cheese grater for a bit when you first talked to me." Hans said.
The ground trembled, and Nursery Rhyme sent her energy pulsing through the landscape. This was her last ditch effort. To make their fears infinitely larger. To truly impart on them the futility of their hopes, and the futility of their matches.
A veritable tidal wave arose. Piles of work, computers, and cheese graters fused together into one great ocean, raging against the island that the humans stood on. With each one holding their matches like a torch, the humans weathered the rain of paper leaflets and the gigantic cheese graters catapulting towards them. Occasionally, there was a quiet whimper and scream, but the fifty held their ground.
"And above all… this world is a shounen world." Hans said, grinning. "Did you think the resolve of people here is so weak? This society may be a disgusting, useless shithole, but the people in it do not deserve to be stained by association. Despite everything, despite the contrivances and the difficulty that people face, as long as they have hope, and as long as there's a light at the end of the tunnel… this world's people will continue on."
At last, a serpent emerged from the sea. A great, metallic beast shrouded in shadow. Still composed of a combination of the people's fears, with paper fins, spidery claws, and the ear-piercing sounds of metal grinding on metal, it cut quite the intimidating figure.
Despite the obstacle, however, the people charged. Holding their matches forwards, they charged into the sea. Into the pits of their own fears.
After all, everything they had ever wanted was right in their hands already. What else would they possibly need?
The scenery before them vanished in a shower of blue sparks, floating far away into the reality marble's horizon.
Immediately, the horizon began to crumble. The reality marble, lacking power, began to shrink. Its frivolous details faded away. The snow crumbled. The very texture of the ground had disappeared, and all that was left was a black void.
Nursery Rhyme fell to the floor of her reality marble. She had been… defeated?
…No, not yet.
She began to laugh. Not everything was over yet. She still had hope. She still had one match yet to burn.
Hans himself.
"They've left, but you're still here, aren't you? Or else, you would have left the very moment the last human got out" Nursery Rhyme grinned. "And as long as you have a physical body in the world, you count as mana."
Hans slumped to the ground.
"...Yeah, you got me." Hans sighed.
…
Well, he had a good run. At least all the civilians were out. They'd be able to run away from Nursery Rhyme's now pitiful reality marble range.
"I scattered narrative significance into your reality marble, restricting all the actions of foreign entities to this world." Hans said. "It's true that I, myself, cannot leave because of my very own actions. There's so much of it here, in fact, that probably only one foreign entity can leave at a time."
"And when you leave, I'll try to leave." Nursery Rhyme said. "After all, I still control this world."
"You haven't killed me because if you kill me, you can't absorb me." Hans said. "So, you're still banking on me joining you."
"As long as you join me willfully, we can both survive." Nursery Rhyme said. "The moment I'm about to run out of energy, I will kill you too. None of us will leave."
"...Yeah." Hans sighed. "But you still can't influence the rules of your noble phantasm. As long as somebody knows their name or recalls their identity, they can leave."
"We're the only people here." Nursery Rhyme said. "And we're foreign entities. We don't belong in this world."
"That's right. But my host isn't." Hans smiled. "Your name… is Hans Christian Andersen, child."
…
Out of the mist, fifty people ran. Everybody was confused. Everybody was utterly clueless. One moment, they had been waiting for a movie to start.
The next? They were suddenly standing in the middle of a field of fog.
The police cheered as they realized that the mist was finally fading, revealing more and more of the panicked civilians. Names were taken, and upon realizing that two hours and thirty minutes had passed since the onset of the attack, the afflicted immediately began to phone home, telling their loved ones that they were still alive.
But Iida's smile slowly faded.
After all, one person was still missing.
The mist still remained, swirling around a three meter by three meter area in the middle of the theater, and Hans hadn't left.
"Is he… gone?" Iida thought.
No. It couldn't be. Hans had saved all of these people, right? No matter how he did it, he could fight this villain. He'd make it out alive.
Heroes always did.
At last, another figure emerged out of the mist. It was a short figure, wearing a slightly torn lab coat, and with a familiar mop of blue hair.
Iida finally ran up to his classmate, a wide smile over his face.
"Andersen-san, I knew you could make it!"
Slowly, the child turned, his characteristic irritated expression nowhere to be seen. All that was there was one of scared confusion.
"H-hvem er i? Hvor er jeg?" the child muttered in danish. "W-who are you? Where am I?"
…
"What have you done?" Nursery Rhyme said. "Somebody left the reality marble. Who?"
"I did." Hans said. "Or, well, my actual corporeal body that I was possessing. Now, I'm only the heroic spirit with absolutely no mana. The child is free, and you can't actually force me to do anything anymore."
Nursery Rhyme stayed silent.
"So you're just going to give up on existence, just like that?"
"Regretfully, yes." Hans sighed. "I am giving up a lot. My family. They've worked hard to keep me happy, even though… I wasn't a very easy child. My… my friends… If I can even call them that. I'm not a good friend, and I should be better to them, but they do care about me."
"That sounds nice…" Nursery Rhyme muttered wistfully.
"But hey, with your actions, they'll be forever beyond my grasp." Hans said, lying down on whatever passed as a floor in the completely empty void.
"...Then what else was I supposed to do?" Nursery Rhyme muttered, her form flickering.
"What?" Hans asked.
"Didn't you want this?" Nursery Rhyme screamed, suddenly teleporting onto Hans and grabbing him by his own collar. Her grip fell through the fabric as Hans's form finally began to decay. His essence flowed into Nursery Rhyme's reality marble, beginning to paint the landscape of the reality marble with a variety of little stories. None of the famous ones that Hans was known for, obviously, since Hans had separated them from him, but his own little stories.
Stories that were never published. That never found an audience, and most likely never will.
"You didn't give me a choice. You gave me the match! What else was I supposed to do?"
"...What?" Hans said.
"The little match girl already had her purpose. She had taken her role. So what was mine?" Nursery Rhyme screamed, her features contorting before Hans's eyes.
"What am I?"
Her face flickered, from the little girl's form she had right now to pale echoes of the civilians that had just escaped.
"What was I supposed to do"
This time, her entire body flickered, slowly becoming more leather bound and booklike. Her limbs began to look like the spine of a book, instead of the normal, cylindrical forms.
"Wasn't I supposed to provide everybody with a cold alleyway to die on? Isn't that my role? Wasn't that the only role left open in the tale you gave me?"
Hans fell silent. The black sky, filled with gold, filled with his own unrealized tales, scrapped drafts, and aspirations now felt so empty.
"Roles don't need to have a purpose." Hans said. "Sometimes, they just are. These roles were arbitrary, anyways. Just things you assigned yourself to make sense of your own identity."
"Then why am I still here?" Nursery Rhyme shouted. "If that wasn't my purpose, my role, then what did you give me?"
"Sometimes, you don't need to ask that question." Hans sighed. "You're not a story anymore. You're a conscious entity. But I didn't know you were… you. In that alleyway, all I saw was a lonely, homeless child. And all that I wanted to do… was give you a match."
"Why?"
"Why do you think? For light. For warmth... and for hope."
Falling to the floor besides where Hans was laughing, Nursery Rhyme laughed as well. Almost hysterically.
"Hahahaha…. Ha… Ha… Ha."
"What?" Hans asked, raising an eyebrow. He only had one eyebrow left to raise. "What's so funny?"
"Hope. Why do you humans keep on insisting on this thing." Nursery Rhyme said, getting out another matchstick. Watching it ignite, her eyes slowly dilated. "What use is it? It always just flickers out in the end."
"We all die." Hans said calmly. "This is like the third time for me. You'll get used to it."
"Then what's the point of existing in the first place?"
"To find a purpose… and make sure that our flames burn higher out of the ashes of our life's work." Hans said, reaching out half of his arm to gesture out at the landscape. One in particular, stood out to him. The Tallow Candle. His very first attempt at writing a fairytale.
The story told of a small candle, sullied and dirtied by the world, finally being lit by a passing tinder box that had seen that the candle was, in fact, a candle at its core.
It was never published, and he had left it in a library forever. On a yellowing sheet of paper. His first, abandoned story.
Perhaps his story would end like this too, forever forgotten in a dissolving reality marble.
"Despite everything, even I still hope." Hans confessed. "I've found my purpose in my past two lives. First, simply as a writer. The publishers finally recognized that I was somewhat competent and lit the career as an author. Secondly, as a heroic spirit. For some reason, I was actually selected to be in Chaldea, and we all had a purpose of defending humanity. And now…? I'm not sure. I still had wanted to look, but perhaps some stories were never meant to go anywhere."
The silence was peaceful now. Hans's legs finally dissipated completely. Half of his face was going as well, leaving him with but one eye to finally
"...But you still can." Nursery Rhyme muttered. "We still can. I can still get you out of here."
"On what condition?" Hans said.
"Take me with you." Nursery Rhyme said. "If my purpose wasn't to be the antagonist, then perhaps I still have to find it. Just like you. We can find it together."
"...Fine." Hans said. "Then make a contract with me."
…
One minute, the small, confused child was mumbling in danish while spilling the hot chocolate onto the towels he was given to wrap his body with, and the next, a familiar, sullen expression appeared on his face, followed by Iida, who was taking care of the small, confused child, having a book fall onto his face.
"...Well, that's over." Hans sighed.
"Hans! You're all right!" Iida shouted, wrapping the child in a somewhat robotic, yet enthusiastic, hug.
"Calling me by my first name?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow. Iida didn't respond.
"Fine, fine." Hans smiled, looking at the fading mist and the bright, 2pm sun. "I'll allow it. Just this once."
…
AN
Next, we'll be returning to UA. That hasn't appeared in a while, has it?
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-SpiritOfErebus