Ghost's Reign Chapter 31: Finding Nemo, a How to Train Your Dragon + Big Hero 6 Crossover fanfic

Chapter 31, everybody! I promise the boys will be doing better eventually.

Okay so I know most of you are more familiar with the fish, but my first introduction to the name of Nemo was Captain Nemo of the Nautilus, from Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (which is also one of Mom's favorite books). The name Nemo, in that book, is said to mean no one.

Also apparently Obake had a Naruto upbringing oops. Also maybe a bit of Tai Lung. And the girls are fighting—other people. Kogeki means attack in Japanese, while Kazan means volcano. And Hiro is quoting Sonic X.

Pain…pain…the all-encompassing, aching kind with the various starbursts that smacked of being beaten—

It was after yet another failure—no, had it even been that? Had it been his fault, or had he just been trying, once again, to fit in with a tribe that refused to have him? He didn't remember anymore—was it even important, the reason? Doubtful—they had never needed a reason to hate him.

To hate the ghost the chief had brought in from the cold.

She had intervened, had herded him away, said they needed to get his injuries looked at, told him once again he had to give them time—

He had given all he had the energy to give, had given until it hurt and then past that—

He'd never be anyone to these people.

She had jerked back at that, cupped his face—

"You're someone to me," she insisted. "You're someone. You're someone special, full of potential—"

He couldn't stand hearing this anymore.

"No, I'm not," he barked, wrenching himself away from her, looking at her—if even a sliver of the pain he was feeling was showing on his face then he was a wretched sight indeed. "I'm no one—no one cares, no one wants to care! I'm NOTHING!"

He had run, then, to one of his little labs in the woods that he had put together so he could scheme away from prying eyes, cook up something that would finally change everyone's minds about him—

He would never succeed.

He screamed, sobbed, raged, tore the lab to shreds—anything to get rid of the pain, anything to excise it—wanted to rip the one piece of paper up, the one that had the unobtainable on it….

Couldn't bring himself to do it, could only stare at it, warm wet trickling down his nose to drip off and stain the sketch….

One last try.

One last try to earn everything, one last try to get rid of the dragons….

One last try to prove he wasn't nothing.

One last try that ultimately failed.

Something warm and wet trickled down his nose, dripped off, fell to the floor below.

Everything hurt. Not as badly as when he had tried to ward off the dragons that time, but a dull ache that sometimes graduated to piercing in spots. Tried to lift his head, to straighten himself up—OH that made it worse.

Gasp, blinking rapidly, trying to jumpstart his brain—what…what….

Ah, right—after his boast, intended to scare these fools into submission, the chief had decided to beat the living daylights out of him. Judging by the feel of everything, he succeeded. And at the very least cracked a few ribs for good measure—try to shift his weight so as to keep the weight off there and reduce the pain—

Clomping alerted him to the fact that someone was coming—quick, compose yourself, at least try to compose yourself—

Tingling and watering eye on the left side of his face told him that that was reacting to the pain, to his currently scatterbrained self—at least it made the chief balk when he stepped in.

"So," the chief rumbled, rallying. "Not as invincible as you think."

He wanted to make a smart-aleck response, but at best he managed a pained gasp, maybe along the lines of AHHH-ha-aah. Witty words, put that on his tombstone.

"I understand my buyer will be coming tomorrow," the chief growled. "I'll be rid of you then."

"S-s-so…you're selling me," he managed finally. Great, brain, be more helpful? "What, got enough of my company?"

"Someone wants to pay handsomely for you, for some reason," the chief gruffed. "Fine by me—maybe I point your tribe in that direction when they come hunting for you."

Ooh, ooh, laughing was painful.

"You stupid idiot, they're not coming for me," he spat. "I already told you, they're probably busy fighting amongst themselves for the position of chief. I am nothing to them."

A painful feeling not unlike bone shards stabbing along his heart, making it turn to stone and drag painfully on the surrounding flesh—yes…yes that was all he was, all he had ever been. He had tried to fool himself, under Callaghan, tried to convince himself he had worth, had merit, would brand himself on everyone's minds so they would have no choice but to see him—

And it was all for nothing.

Again.

"Did I rattle your skull too hard?" the chief asked as he started making a noise between a laugh and a cough—pain flared across his body each time, but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to stop. "The Yokai are probably searching right now—"

"No they're not!" he barked. "They're looking for nothing! No one!" Pain was starting to make him delusional, make the already sloshy thoughts leaden into tar. "Congratulations, you've found Nemo!"

Another flash of pain—

And then darkness.

Ortho had been waiting nervously outside the door, fidgeting, concerned at the sounds of that—that ghost laughing deliriously—

Held his breath when it stopped, kept it until the chief stepped back out.

"Well?" he breathed—don't say he was dead, he didn't want an obake haunting them—

"Unconscious," the chief reported, rubbing his freshly-bruised knuckles. "You're sure the ship will be here tomorrow."

"That was the estimate."

"Good," he muttered, walking through the room and out the door. "The sooner we're rid of him the better."

"Ah," he noised, glancing back before hastening after his chief. "What—what did he mean? Who is Nemo?"

The chief paused, head bowed, thinking. Sober, like that ghost had thrown something into his face that he couldn't even comprehend.

"No one."

Obake was wrong in some regards, mostly in thinking that the Yokai would take his kidnapping lying down. That a contingent wouldn't go back to the island with a plan to wring the information out of whichever poor sod they captured.

Having dragons helped turned it from raging to systematic in short order, made it happen before the ships could get too far away, made it so they could snatch people off said ships and drag them back to the island they were razing to the ground.

Helga slammed the goon into the table, whipped out a knife and held it to his neck.

"Who took him?" she demanded. "Which one of you rotten little rats took Obake?"

The man glanced around, eyes rolling in fear as he took in the Yokai and the dragons all glaring at him—the dragons, she was almost sure, were more concerned about the loss of the hatchling that had gone with Obake more than the man who tamed them.

And yet they had come back to Yokai, had waited for those who had learned to ride and had saddles to throw themselves together and take off, more dragons following…and now here they were, a cold and calculating dragon raid, many buildings now burning, the Furies seething and snarling at the goons being dragged out of their hidey-holes.

"One of you start talking," Momakase said, whipping her sword around. "Or I start cutting."

One goon had the lack of sense to laugh at her. "Killing us doesn't get you—" Cut off abruptly when she sliced his ear off.

"When I said start talking, I meant saying something useful."

Helga increased the pressure on hers, shot a glance at Calhoun—hopefully she was thinking along the same lines. Yes, they had been discussing getting rid of Obake. Yes, they realized that the big obstacle there was the fact that he had the dragons at his beck and call. Said dragons raging and hunting and helping to find him only proved that.

If he was dead…and the dragons had no further use for them….

"Okay you bunch of losers," Calhoun said, twirling her hammer around. "There's enough of you that we can start bumping some of you off—I don't doubt one of you will break when you see the end coming." Swung, two-handed—

"Nice," Helga muttered, watching the head of the goon go flying over a roof. Glare at the one she had, useless considering they were all wearing their Yokai masks. "Your turn."

Instinctively wince at the red splattering the eyes of the mask, wipe them clear before jerking her head at the Nadder she had been using, the one she named Kogeki—it chattered and kicked another goon to her, moving to the next one and grabbing him with a foot, spiny tail bristling.

"I-i-it's true then," the guy in Kogeki's grasp managed. "The Yokai—y-you're training dragons."

Witnesses would be bad. "Your death will be slow and painful unless you start. Talking."

The other Yokai were starting to herd the other goons in, the dragons coming and depositing fresh ones before flying off in search of more—above, Vinnie was supervising the burning of the island town, his Nightmare Kazan dodging the next flying head—

"It wasn't us!" the guy cried. "It was the Moss-Huts—southeast of here—the Berserkers had said—and the Moss-Huts had heard—"

Momakase threw a knife into the guy's thigh. "Fragmented sentences are annoying." Sword blade to a different guy's face. "What about you, feeling coherent?"

The guy swallowed hard. "The…the Moss-Huts had heard that someone was willing to pay good money for Obake of the Yokai, delivered to them alive."

Alive—that was….

That was not good. Dead, it just meant someone wanted revenge, wanted his head to confirm. Alive….

She looked around at the dragons that he had tamed—as far as she knew, he was the only one with this information. The most likely scenario…someone wanted this selfsame information.

This would be problematic, to put it lightly.

"Now was that so hard?" Momakase asked lightly, before beheading him. "Do we know where these Moss-Huts are?"

Calhoun and Carl exchanged glances, nodded.

"Good," she said. "I guess that means we don't need the rest of them."

No, they didn't. Obake's recalcitrance at letting others know what they could do made perfect sense—the Yokai riding dragons…this news would make everyone attack them. Had made them attack, had made them take the opportunity presented and ran with it.

They had to stop this before it ran its natural course, with Obake dead and the Yokai in pieces.

"Right," she said, climbing up into Kogeki's saddle. "No witnesses."

The Nadder gave a rolling trill before lighting up.

Hiro's scales had just about crawled off him in boredom when the sun finally set—perfect time for a Night Fury to do as Night Furies do. Spread his wings, lift into the air, cautiously drift around and up, keeping an eye on the food stores…would have to aim just right, he wouldn't have a second chance….

Dive, debating on the whistle that would give him away but increase his accuracy—decided to use it, accuracy was key and he needed to strike fear into these not-dragons—

Barely heard barks of Night Fury! and Get down! over the whistling in his ears, from both his fins and the wind—had the location mapped out, open mouth adding an extra layer of accuracy—

Blasted the food stores, used the heat of the explosion to help propel him away on the upswing.

"Ha-HA!" he barked, angling away—okay, now to get a metal-claw and then get Obake—everyone was running for the food stores, scrambling around expecting more dragons—

In the meantime.

Swoop down, cupping his wings to hold himself in an almost-hover, hook his claws on the sill of the peep-hole that not-dragons called a window, open to let the last of the light and the start of the cool night air in—slip into…a kitchen, he thought, it had food smells….

And lots of sharp objects.

Look them over quickly, angling for something that Obake could use—that one was black, pointed like a spike but still bladed like a metal-claw, a tiny loop on the other end…that looked like it worked. Scoop it up by the leathery handle, sniff—drop down to the floor, carefully padding to the next room, sniffing and smelling and parsing through the strange scents—

Obake.

Ear flaps went straight up—forced himself to be calm, to think, to listen before carefully nosing his way into the next room, eyes raking the whole thing before settling on—

His wrr was muted by the metal-claw in his mouth, but it was enough to make Obake twitch—did it again, stepping further in, noting the not-vines binding him to the strange sitting-thing that not-dragons liked….

Noting the scent of his blood, the way his breathing sounded…the way he finally lifted his head, looking around blearily before finally settling on him, one eye bloodied and swollen, the one side of his face flickering worriedly….

The way he didn't seem convinced that Hiro was really here.

"…Hiro?"

"Mmph-hmph," he noised around the metal-claw, bounding forward to sniff at the bindings—that weird scent he heard called hemp. Paw at them, testing his talons on them before working the metal-claw around in his mouth so he could saw at them better. That worked.

"Hiro," Obake said thickly. "Hiro you need to run."

Not without you, idiot, he thought, recognizing this self-destructive behavior—he had been like this before, when his bad-alpha was coming back and he thought he was saving Hiro at the expense of his own life. He had had that tone then, too.

And like then, Hiro wasn't accepting that.

Small triumphant noise when he cut that limb free, went to the next one, started sawing as Obake made a muted groan, stretching that hind leg—Hiro had the impression he had been tied up like this for a while.

"Was that explosion you?" Obake asked finally—good, good, that sound meant he was starting to do the rational reasoning thing again instead of the let's keel over and DIE tone. Pause to nod at him, to appreciate the small smile. "Clever boy."

Chuff in agreement, go back to the not-vines. Another muted noise of triumph when those failed—

Start sawing at the ones binding those clever long-paws, Obake obliging and straining so the not-vines were taut—that made sawing through them MUCH easier THANK YOU—

Froze for a hot second when he heard sounds coming closer.

"Hiro," Obake hissed warningly—Hiro started sawing faster, frantic—the not-vines broke—

Blink at the tapping on his face, use his tongue to help push the metal-claw into the frantically waving hand—Obake started sawing at the bindings around his chest, tying him to the sitting-thing—Hiro leaped up, clawed, slashed—the not-vines started fraying, snapping—

A not-dragon radiating authority stomped in, followed by another that didn't.

Obake had quickly snapped to his old position. "I'm guessing I would call that good news."

"I'm tying you to a post on the docks," the not-dragon growled. "The sooner I'm rid of you the better."

"Putting me somewhere where I could call sea monsters up on you? That doesn't seem very sensible."

"Neither do you," the not-dragon said, circling around. "I think I must have hit you too hard."

"Doubtful."

Hiro braced himself, glancing at Obake—the way his hand was tightening on the metal-claw said he was about to spring into action, but with the way his ribs were creaking…he couldn't take both of them.

And him with a clean shot….

Leap out, screeching—

Bit down hard on the second one's limb, let go as it fled—Obake leaped for the first, swinging the metal-claw around and slicing his throat, going down with the not-dragon to drive the metal-claw into his chest.

"I told you," Obake growled, twisting the metal-claw. "I would make you regret this decision."

Hiro flinched back as he ripped it back out—ear flaps up as he crumpled up on himself, breath hitched in pain—

Further when he heard angry barking.

"Hey," he said, bouncing forward. "Hey—we gotta go—come on, I know a way out we can avoid them come on—"

Obake looked at him blearily—scrunched his eyes against the pain, side of his face flaring brighter but still with that worrying flicker—

"Okay," he wheezed finally. "Get us out of here."

Hiro yipped at that, led him to the kitchen, out the window—Obake was still wheezing with pain, having to pause whenever his chest made a painful grinding noise, but didn't stop. One hand on the wall as he followed Hiro around to the woods—almost—they were almost there—

A not-dragon rounded the corner, bellowing angrily.

Hiro skidded to a halt, already reversing course. "Well, we almost made it."