(Been a hot second since we posted anything on this site, huh? "OC-insert canon retelling" seems pretty FFN-ish, so here.)

ATUHOR'S NOSE: I've been rotating some form of this in my mind since *checks notes* 2005‽ H*ck... Well, uh, this started off as 89% your bog-standard "the self-insert gets self-inserted near the beginning of canon" fic, with added "the self-insert had a plan but OH WHOOPS she has amnesia", and then over the past few months we finally figured out how to actually do it and wrote nine chapters. It's developed a bit in that time, so it's not exactly what it started as, but it's still like that.
(Okay hold up I haven't looked at this atuhor's nose properly in a long time, it still describes Leaf as a self-insert? Wow I mean. She started off as one but not anymore lol.)

Speaking of nine chapters, we'll probably start by posting those once every week or two (haven't decided which yet). This isn't meant to be a buffer of regular updates til the end of the story, though; at the rate this has been going we think it's gonna be around a hundred chapters long and I don't really want to wait six years before I can show it off. Toby Fox could do that, but not me.

Shipping: Still up in the air. This is less a matter of what ship we think would sail with us at the helm (obviously it'd be a big ridiculous polycule) and more a matter of whether we write romance at all. Meh. We'll see.

When I came to, my head hurt — a lot. And I couldn't remember where I was. Or... most things, actually. But I had a bag, and the bag had a water bottle and headache medicine. After taking two pills and chugging over half the bottle, my head still hurt and I still couldn't remember.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I was recognizing that head injuries were bad news and freaking out about it. But I was conscious and mostly lucid, so that was... "a good sign" seems like an overstatement. Better than the alternative, at least.

"So, who are you?"

There was a spiky red-haired man armed to the nines standing behind me, who had somehow escaped my notice until he decided to speak.

"I don't know," I groaned, "who are you?"

He raised an eyebrow. I mentally noted that as a suspicious reaction. In both senses of the phrase. "You don't know who you are?"

"No, that was me being flippant because my head hurts." I rubbed at my temple a bit, hoping to make the headache go away. "... though, now that you mention it, I actually don't remember who I am. Or... anything. What happened?"

"You were unconscious. Actually, I had assumed you were dead. But when I noticed you were still breathing, I decided to keep an eye on you. It's unfortunate that you can't remember, but it's what I was expecting. Normal healing magic can't reverse brain damage, but it can stop internal bleeding and prevent things from getting worse."

"That's... oddly specific," I said. "I mean. Fine. But weird. Not as fine as if I hadn't suffered a random head injury, but y'know."

That train of thought was interrupted by another voice, rather farther away. "I won't let you Desians get away with anything!"

"Desians? ... Well then, die at the hands of the Desians you so hate. Get them!"

"What‽" I lurched to my feet and immediately regretted it as my head filled with pain and light. "We have to..." Of course, 'we' weren't doing anything with me in this condition. "... you have to help them!"

"I'm a mercenary. I only fight for money. If I interfere in a battle they could handle on their own, it's nothing but an annoyance that I don't even get paid for."

"They're holding their own?" I didn't even know who 'they' were. Actually, not knowing what a 'Desian' was, I didn't even know which side, if either, was in the right. Admittedly, the 'Desians' were giving off a disconcerting 'gleeful murder' vibe, so I had my suspicions.

"So far. First Aid." Healing magic washed over me and my head cleared. (And something flickered at the back of my mind.) Sure enough, the... three kids... were holding their own against... fantasy stormtroopers? Those would be the 'Desians', presumably. The kids managed to beat them into submission, but just as the stormtroopers fled, they were replaced by this huge guy swinging a flail around.

"Do not get in our way!" he growled.

"Is that one... half-giant?"

The mercenary raised an amused eyebrow at my question. "Desians are half-elves."

"He's half again as tall as his buddies, and twice as broad. You sure his other half isn't giant?" He just shook his head in exasperation.

The kids, for their part, were having a much worse time against this giant. It looked bad.

"... We're not just gonna stand here and watch them get stomped, are we?" The mercenary kept watching silently. "Screw this. You're a mercenary, but I'm not." I reached into my bag, grabbed something with a handle, and jumped — "Meteorite!"

— and I came down, spear-point first, just grazing the enemy's front. With surprising skill, I vaulted to a spot between him and the kids, and took up a fighting stance. I couldn't remember learning to use this weapon, but it felt right in my hands. "... Okay. Let's see how muscle memory carries me!" Muscle memory and special techniques you have to shout the name of, apparently.

The mercenary suddenly landed next to me. "You're injured. Don't get yourself killed by leaping into a fight before you're recovered."

"... Who are you?" asked the taller boy.

"Get out of the way," said the mercenary.

Unsurprisingly, the mercenary was the most competent fighter in the group. I was at multiple disadvantages — on top of the obvious, it turned out that spear versus flail was an unfavorable matchup. (Or maybe that was my fighting style — I kept trying to throw him off by deflecting his attacks, and that didn't really work against what is essentially a projectile.) The tall boy with his dual swords, the short boy with his magic, and the girl with her chakrams all fought competently enough, for kids, but they were kids and held no candle to a trained mercenary.

After a short battle, the giant 'Desian' decided to back off. He turned to the only unmasked member of his group, who I assumed was the leader.

"Damn, I never thought you'd show up. Retreat for now!" And with that, all the 'Desians' fled. And I still had no idea what a 'Desian' actually was.

I turned to the mercenary. "He meant you, right?" He shrugged.

"Is that an Exsphere?" the tall boy asked. I followed his gaze to a strange gem on the mercenary's hand that had somehow escaped my notice until just now. The boy also had a similar gem on his own hand, mostly-hidden under a cloth wrap, which presumably explained his interest.

Before anyone could explain any of that, an elderly woman approached and spoke up. "How can we repay you for saving the Chosen?" The word 'Chosen' set off alarm bells in my head.

"I see," said the mercenary. "So this girl is the next Chosen." The phrase 'next Chosen' was not helping.

"That's right!" said the girl. "I need to accept the oracle. Grandmother, I'm going to undergo the trial now."

"What trial?" I asked, just as sword boy said the same thing. (He eyed me suspiciously. I just snickered.)

The mercenary mentioned sensing monsters in the chapel, and the old woman explained about the Chosen being judged. This was all distinctly not reassuring.

"Then I'll take on the job of protecting Colette!" said the sword boy.

"Lloyd?" responded the old woman. "I would be uneasy with just you."

Oh, good, I was finally getting names.

"Your name is Lloyd?" asked the mercenary.

"Yeah — but who are you to ask for my name?" ... wow, he really seemed to think that sounded cool. Kid must read a lot of manga.

"I am Kratos, a mercenary." Another name! "As long as you can pay me, I'll accept the job of guarding the Chosen."

Kratos had barely turned to enter the chapel when Lloyd protested. "W- wait, I'm going too!"

"You'll only get in the way," Kratos stated bluntly. "Be a good boy and wait here."

"... Gotcha," Lloyd said, surprising me — I hadn't pegged him as the compliant type. "Then I'll just follow you on my own." ... That was still surprising, because I hadn't pegged him for the clever type either, but it made more sense.

"You're a stubborn kid," Kratos said, though he seemed amused more than anything else. "Fine, do as you wish."

"I will," Lloyd said confidently. "C'mon, Genis," he said, beckoning to the mage kid. That was everyone except the old woman, then.

"I had a feeling you were gonna say something like that," Genis snarked.

"I want to say that this isn't a field trip," said Kratos, annoyed, "but I have this sneaking suspicion that you plan to 'follow on your own' as well. Am I right?"

I thought about that. "Nah. I'm gonna escort this nice lady home and ask you all what this 'oracle' thing is about later."

"Oh, so you do have some common sense," Kratos remarked. And with that, the four of them entered the chapel.

"... So, uh, I don't actually know which direction I'm escorting you, ma'am. Lead the way?"

"Of course," she said, heading down the giant staircase. "My name is Phaidra, by the way."

"R- right!" Apparently amnesia had taken my manners with it as well. "Um... I'd tell you mine, but I actually can't remember it. Amnesia." I tapped my head.

"Oh my. Will you be all right?"

"Most likely. Kratos said his healing magic stopped any internal bleeding, so at the least I can't get worse than I already am." The flicker at the back of my mind grew more insistent. I closed my eyes in thought. "Hmm... healing magic..."

I mentally reached out for the flicker — more difficult than it sounds! — and firmly grasped it. "I get it. First Aid!" With that, I yanked the flicker out of my mind and back into conscious understanding. I felt myself pull something out of the environment, and the familiar healing light washed over me.

In fact, not only did I now remember how to cast that spell, it felt as easy as walking. I could focus on how it was done, but it was easier to just do it. And I knew that I knew more healing magic, but the other spells weren't quite back yet.

"... Heh. I know healing magic." And I could wield a spear, too. I bet I knew more fancy techniques with it, but the only one I could recall at this point was the jumping one. "I wonder what else there is to remember about myself?"

...

The small town of Iselia, where Phaidra lived, turned out not to have any combat training equipment available, so I didn't get a chance to try remembering my spear techniques. In lieu of that, then, I was going through my possessions and trying to figure myself out from them. This was surprisingly unhelpful.

There was a small plastic box with tiny almost-unreadable text on it that contained the words 'current' and 'capacity', so I figured it must be a battery — but what it plugged into, I couldn't find. There was a cord that fit into the battery's input on one end, and its output on the other (though, on reflection, I had no idea which was which!), but I somehow doubted that I had planned to plug the thing into itself.

Marginally more helpful were the bottles of prescription medication, which mostly confirmed things I had already guessed, but the fact that they were a year's supply suggested I had planned a long trip. Frustratingly, the name on the labels had been scribbled out. I fumed a bit wondering why the hell I'd have done something like that before I realized it was probably because it was my deadname and wouldn't have been any use to know anyway. ... though now I had to wonder why the hell I hadn't gotten around to legally changing my name before doing whatever this was.

I thought I had hit the jackpot when I pulled out a notebook, but most of it was written in a code of some sort. Only a handful of scattered sentences were in plain text — most prominently, a message written large enough to take up the entire page warning "DO NOT SHOW THIS TO ANY -OS". The only '-os' I could think of was 'Kratos'. Was he untrustworthy? He was a mercenary. Presumably he'd betray anyone if he was paid well enough to.

Actually, there was one other '-os' — on the way here, I had asked Phaidra about the oracle, and part of the story had been about an ancient hero named 'Mithos'. The hero himself was presumably eons dead by now — if he ever had existed, as opposed to just being a legend — but maybe I meant someone named for him...? Surely there would be no shortage of people named for a legendary savior.

The second page was a bulleted list of... mainly encrypted nonsense, but there were a few plaintext phrases on there. One near the top caught my attention, and not in a nice way.

"Phaidra." I didn't know precisely what I was getting into, but... "What is a 'human ranch'?"

...

I now knew what the 'Desians' were.

The horrors Phaidra had pointedly not described made it abundantly obvious what I had had in mind, writing that down — I was tasking myself to destroy this sadistic cruelty factory at the first possible opportunity.

She had told me not to go there, that the town had a 'non-aggression treaty' with the Desians, and that I couldn't risk that.

On that, I had to admit she had a point. That's why I snuck around it first, to approach from the side furthest from Iselia. Between that and a complete lack of records linking me to the town, they would (I hoped) believe me an independent actor, and leave the town alone.

Provided, of course, they never considered the incredibly obvious idea that I wanted that.

Carefully, creeping unseen through the surrounding forest, I cased the joint. It only had one proper entrance, but the fences were mostly single layers of barbed wire; one rebel armed with wire cutters could make an improper entrance just about anywhere they liked — and wouldn't you know it, I had packed a set.

To my surprise, shortly after completing my perimeter check, I spotted Lloyd and Genis, just beyond a fork in the road. I made a snap decision and swiftly moved through the treetops to drop just behind them. "Psst! Kids! What the hell are you doing here?"

The two boys startled and whirled around, weapons out. Genis (but not Lloyd) relaxed upon recognizing me. "I could ask you the same thing. Lloyd lives this way, and I — was going with him, but what business do you have around here?"

I shrugged. "Maybe I was babysitting. Don't you know there's monsters in this forest?"

"Maybe you what‽" Lloyd exclaimed, barely containing his rage before Genis put a hand on his arm.

"You were not," he said, much more sensibly. "You didn't even know we were here until two minutes ago."

"Well, obviously. But if anyone asks, that's what I'm gonna tell 'em."

"And we know there's monsters," Lloyd said, "but the real danger is the human ranch."

I nodded. "Like I said. Monsters." I paused a moment before changing the subject. "Quid pro quo. You tell me why you're really here, I do the same."

"I really do live here," Lloyd said. "Just down that path."

"Good to know. But I meant Genis — he's the one who's lied to me."

Lloyd fumed again while Genis flinched at being caught out. "I... was going to visit a friend. At the human ranch."

"What‽" Lloyd exclaimed.

"You didn't tell him? When were you planning to?"

"Shut up!" they both snapped.

"Genis, wouldn't that violate the non-aggression treaty?" Lloyd said.

"So what? They broke it first, back at the temple."

Something pinged, suddenly. "'Die at the hands of the Desians you so hate'," I quoted.

"Yeah!" Genis said. "They tried to kill Colette! I'm not even gonna do anything aggressive, just visit one of their prisoners."

"I don't think they're gonna see it that way," I said. "Firstly, they're fascists, they're not gonna give a damn about fairness. But second, and more directly relevant, I'm not convinced those were Desians. Because 'okay, fine, guess we're Desians' is a weird thing for someone to say, if they really are Desians."

Genis blinked. "But... if they're not Desians, why did they try to kill Colette?"

I shrugged. "Beats me. But she's this Chosen thing, right? They could have any number of grudges against her. And if the Desians want the Chosen dead too, they make an easy cover story for anyone who doesn't want to be caught."

The boys thought about this for a moment. "Okay. They could be fake Desians," Genis admitted. "But it doesn't matter, because I'm still gonna visit my friend — and I still want to know what you're doing here!"

I shrugged for like the dozenth time, because apparently that's my favorite form of emoting. "I didn't say you shouldn't. Heck, if you've already been visiting without trouble, that proves you can get away with it, so just keep doing that. As for me... you wanna visit your friend before or after I burn this place to the ground and slaughter every one of the scum running it?" A thought suddenly occurred to me. "Probably in the other order, though — gotta make sure the prisoners escape safely."

"When you say 'scum'," Genis said, sounding a little quieter than usual for some reason.

"They're torturing people to death in that place," I said. "So I'm tearing the whole thing to the ground."

Genis frowned very loudly at me. "You really think you can do that? By yourself?"

I shrugged. "Worth a try. At the least, I know I can get out safely if I screw up. You saw me leap headlong into danger this morning. I can leap out, too, if I gotta."

Genis shook his head in disbelief. "I still think it's a terrible idea, but it's your funeral. Just let me talk to my friend first."

...

"... Sorry, Marble — but isn't that an Exsphere?"

"Is that what it's called? They put this on me shortly after they brought me here."

Lloyd nodded. "Yeah, that's definitely an Exsphere. But there's no Key Crest? An Exsphere without a Key Crest is dangerous."

"Everyone in the ranch has an Exsphere," I told them. I compared Lloyd's and Marble's Exspheres to see what a Key Crest looked like. "If that's a Key Crest, I think all the Desians' have them, and the prisoners' don't." Though I wasn't entirely sure; Lloyd's was a little bluer than the others, so the comparison was harder than it ought to be.

"But... well, supposedly, attaching an Exsphere directly to your skin makes you sick. But it doesn't work unless you attach it directly to your skin. So the Key Crest — a charm carved onto special ore — acts as a barrier."

"Hmm... What's the purpose of doing that?" I wondered aloud. "Is it just to weaken the prisoners and reduce their chance to escape?"

"I don't think they'd need to bother," Marble said. "They work us so hard that we're already exhausted from that alone. I don't understand what we're even doing..."

"Never mind that," Genis said, "can't we do something about it?"

"If it was just the charm, I could carve it myself," Lloyd said, "but I don't have the special ore. It's a dwarven trade secret, too, so —"

"Lloyd, your dad's a dwarf! Can't you ask him for help?"

"I — it's not that simple, Genis! But... I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks Lloyd! You're the best!"

"No promises! And even if I can help Marble, there's no way I can get enough Key Crests for the entire ranch."

"Well, that's what..." Genis trailed off. "Hey, what's your name, anyway?"

I scratched my head awkwardly. "Don't know. Woke up this morning with a throbbing head injury and no recollection of... anything, really." I shrugged. "I'll be fine, though. You were saying?"

"Oh! Right, well, if you're really planning to free all the prisoners, we can't bring Key Crests to all of them, so —"

"We can't bring Key Crests to any of the prisoners at this stage," I interrupted. "Think about it — the Desians left them off for a reason. At best, they'll notice—"

"Hey! Who said you could slack off, swine?"

"Oh, no — quickly, you three, run!"

"Okay, complete detail later — come on, let's get to cover."

...

The Desians had decided to do what they apparently do best and punish Marble for a nonexistent offense with a whipping. Of course nobody liked that, but Lloyd had the idea to try and rescue her. It fit fine with my plans, but he had some questionable ideas for some of the details —

"No, I'll be the distraction," I insisted. "They have no idea who I am yet, so it doesn't matter if they see my face. Besides, I was planning on raiding this place anyway. I can just make it a twofer."

"All right, then, you be the distraction," Lloyd said grudgingly, "but I'm gonna —"

"You," I interrupted, "just like Genis, are gonna stay out of sight and get home ASAP. You don't live in Iselia, but you certainly have connections to the town, and I don't want to risk them seeing you and retaliating."

"... Fine. Genis."

"Gotcha. Fireball!"

The Desians dropped their whips and looked towards the cliff, where I stood tall, twirling my spear around.

"Open the gate!"

I jumped and landed in front of the gate, just as it opened and the first few guards ran out. "Sup, bitches!" I taunted, dragging out that last syllable for a full second. "I'm here to end this ranch, and your pathetic little lives!"

"What the hell‽" "Get her!"

Fighting three-on-one was not easy, but it soon became obvious that I was far better trained than these guards. Presumably they had been assigned this position on the assumption that they wouldn't face any worse threat than a revolt from unarmed and poisoned prisoners. I swiftly dispatched them, grabbed their Exspheres, and jumped into the ranch.

I shattered a few shackles — I don't know what my spear's made of, or the shackles for that matter, but apparently there's no contest between the two materials.

"Gate's open!" I announced. "If you've secretly been planning a revolt, now's the time to put it into action! And if not, you can just head straight out!"

"I'm going to have to put an end to your little rebellion, inferior being."

I whirled around to spot a blue-haired guy with an armgun(‽) stepping out of the central building. I put my hand on my hip. "Do you even know what kind of being I am? For all you know I could be a... an alien of some kind. Or a demon. Or an angel."

"I am Lord Forcystus, a superior half-elf!" he said, ignoring my banter. "You, filth, are in violation of the non-aggression treaty."

"Point of order: I'm not party to any treaty. I know you don't actually care, but I still wanted to say it."

He pointed his gun at me. "I'm okay with that. It means you're an outlaw, and I can execute you on the spot."

I smirked. "That's more like it," I said, readying my spear.

We seemed evenly matched for the first minute or two — I'd occasionally just scratch him, his shots (of ball lightning!) would occasionally just graze me, but for the most part we both blocked or dodged everything.

And then suddenly, swinging his armgun like a hammer, he snapped my spear clean in two.

Completely boggled, I just looked at the broken hilt in my hand and the point lying on the ground. "... Huh."

"Any last words?" Forcystus asked, jamming the gun right to my chest.

"Hm. I think I'll go with something pithy. How about..." And with one swift motion, I scratched at his eyes with the broken hilt, pushed the armgun down, and jumped — he shot the moment he realized I was moving, but by the time the impulse got from his brain to his finger, it was too late, and he only hit me in the shins. ... You know, for a given value of 'only'.

I came down in the forest just outside the ranch. If they had any sense, they were gonna sweep the area immediately. I had to get away, but I wasn't planning to lead the Desians to Iselia.

"But there's only two directions... it's either Iselia or Lloyd's house. I'm kinda screwed if they actually find me, regardless of which way I go... but I think they're a bit less likely to search down that way."

"You're badly burned. I'm not going to lie to you, soldier — you're likely out of commission for good. But you'll survive."

"I'm sorry I couldn't do better, Lord Forcystus."

"It's not your fault. We never prepared you for an attack like this. We'll be stepping up security, here and on the other ranches. But... something's been bothering me. Tell me — did you ever directly see the woman casting fire magic? Or any other magic, for that matter?"

"There was that jumping thing she did... but I think that was a weapon arte, not a spell. Other than that... no, sir, I didn't see anything else."

"... As I suspected."

(chapter end note:) This first chapter (and a bit of the next) might be a bit off compared to the rest of the fic, cause I sat on them for years before finally getting this draft started - n, not since 2005, I've retried the idea more than once in that time, but like, since 2018. Of course I did my best at updating them but you might have noticed the metaphorical spackle. Or you might not have! We'll see.