Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: The Grave in the Wilds. True one

The morning sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, painting Subaru’s room in soft, muted hues. A quiet, the kind of stillness that weighed heavily, refusing to be disturbed. Subaru adjusted the cuffs of his suit with a deliberate precision, his movements rehearsed yet strained.

A navy-blue tie hung loosely around his neck, its knot left undone for now. On the kitchen counter beside him sat a bouquet of flowers, vibrant against the dullness of the room. Daisies, lilies, and a single red rose tied together with simple twine.

He stared at himself in the mirror. The man looking back was older, more lined than his years should allow. His hair was neatly combed, his suit tailored, but the fatigue in his eyes betrayed him. Subaru Natsuki smiled faintly, forcing it to hold, as if convincing himself he looked ready. It was a date, after all. He stood before the mirror, carefully knotting a navy-blue tie around his neck. His reflection stared back, sharp and composed in a black suit he hadn’t worn in years.

Sunglasses rested atop his head, not for fashion but necessity. He didn’t like the way people looked at him now, as though they were searching for cracks in a façade he wasn’t even trying to maintain.

“Okay, Subaru,” he muttered to himself. “Just another day. Nothing special, right?”

He grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the kitchen counter—sunflowers and white lilies tied with a simple ribbon. They looked out of place in his hands, too delicate for someone who had seen what he’d seen.

The neighborhood was already stirring as Subaru stepped outside. The air was crisp, the kind of morning that promised a warm day to follow. Mrs. Galvez, his elderly neighbor, was watering her garden. Her little dog barked twice when Subaru passed, wagging its tail.

“Good morning, Subaru,” Mrs. Galvez said, her tone cheerful but curious. Her gaze flickered to the flowers. “You’re looking sharp today. Big plans?”

“Just a personal thing,” Subaru replied, managing a polite smile.

“Hmm. Well, you clean up nice,” she said, giving him a knowing nod before returning to her roses.

Subaru continued down the street, the click of his polished shoes against the pavement oddly loud in the quiet. At the corner flower shop, Jerry, the owner, greeted him with a wide grin.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Mysterious!” Jerry said, leaning on the counter. “Suit, shades, flowers—you’ve got quite the look going today. Who’s the lucky lady?”

Subaru chuckled, the sound forced. “No one, really. Just visiting someone.”

Jerry raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. “Well, you’ve got good taste in flowers, I’ll give you that. Sunflowers for happiness, lilies for remembrance. Nice mix.”

“Yeah,” Subaru said quietly. “Thanks.”

Jerry handed him the bouquet, and Subaru nodded in thanks before stepping back out into the sunlight.


---

The sound of an approaching vehicle drew his attention. A yellow school bus rattled up the street, its once-bright paint faded with age. Subaru’s stomach tightened as he saw the familiar words painted along its side:

Bus 92 – Cassie’s Route.

It was an old relic now, repurposed to shuttle visitors to the Free Hork-Bajir Colony in Yellowstone National Park. But to Subaru, it was a reminder of a different time—a time when life had been consumed by battles fought in shadows, and decisions made in desperation.

He boarded the bus without a word, the driver giving him a brief nod of recognition. Subaru slid into a seat near the back, clutching the flowers tightly as the vehicle rumbled to life.

As the bus made its way out of town, Subaru stared out the window. The scenery shifted from suburbs to open highways, then to the towering forests of Yellowstone. The Hork-Bajir Colony had been moved here after the war, far from prying human eyes. It was one of the few places they could live freely, away from the scrutiny of a world that still didn’t fully understand the truth of what had happened.


---

The bus came to a stop near the edge of the forest, and Subaru stepped off. He glanced at the trail ahead, then at the bouquet in his hands.

The official story was that Rachel had been buried in her hometown in California, under a polished headstone that read Rachel Berenson: Hero of the Yeerk War.

Reporters had swarmed her public grave for weeks, filming segments about her bravery and sacrifice. But Subaru knew the truth.

Her real grave was here, deep in the wilderness of the Free Hork-Bajir Colony. It was Tobias’s decision. He’d insisted that Rachel be laid to rest where she could be honored without spectacle, without the world turning her memory into a headline.

Subaru adjusted the tie around his neck as he approached the heart of the Free Hork-Bajir Colony. The towering trees of Yellowstone stretched above him, their thick trunks casting dappled shadows over the paths below. It was a stark contrast to the bustling human cities Subaru had grown accustomed to—this place felt alive in a way that was almost impossible to describe.

The colony was peaceful, a harmonious blend of nature and the alien. Hork-Bajir moved gracefully through the forest, their clawed hands working to carve tree bark or build makeshift homes high in the canopy. They greeted him warmly as he passed, their deep voices rumbling in a way that Subaru found oddly comforting.

“Hello, Subaru!” called a Hork-Bajir as it passed, its voice guttural but cheerful. “Good day to you!”

“Good day, Marow,” Subaru replied with a small wave. He recognized this one—a kind soul who had been one of the first to settle in Yellowstone after the war.

Another Hork-Bajir paused in its task of peeling bark from a tree to wave at Subaru. “It is good to see you again!” it said, its blade-tipped arms slicing through bark with practiced ease.

“You too, Kit-Da,” Subaru replied. He stopped for a moment to watch them work, marveling at the balance of their powerful bodies and gentle movements.

As he made his way deeper into the colony, he spotted a familiar figure near one of the larger trees. A young Hork-Bajir with sharper features and piercing amber eyes stood near a wooden cabin, speaking with another group of her kin. Toby Hamee.

Subaru approached cautiously, not wanting to interrupt. Toby turned as he neared, her gaze locking onto him instantly. She nodded in acknowledgment, finishing her conversation with the others before walking toward him.

“Subaru,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “It’s been some time since you last visited.”

“Yeah,” Subaru replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Things have been… busy.”

Toby tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “Time passes differently for us here. The colony thrives, but we do not forget.”

Subaru gave a small nod. “I just wanted to check in. See how you’re doing. How the colony’s doing.”

Toby gestured for him to follow her, leading him toward her cabin. It was a simple structure, built from wood and perched at the base of one of the towering trees. Inside, it was sparse but functional, with a small table and a few chairs carved from wood.

They sat down, and for a moment, there was silence.

“The colony is thriving,” Toby said finally, breaking the quiet. “We have expanded deeper into the park. The humans who visit rarely stray far from the designated paths, so we are left in peace.”

“That’s good to hear,” Subaru said, leaning back slightly. “And you? How are you holding up?”

Toby’s eyes narrowed slightly, her expression thoughtful. “I manage. My people look to me for guidance, and I do what I must to ensure their safety. But the scars of the war remain, for all of us.”

Subaru nodded. He understood that feeling all too well. “It’s not easy, is it? Trying to move forward when the past keeps pulling you back.”

“No, it is not,” Toby replied. Her gaze softened slightly as she studied him. “But we do not have the luxury of dwelling on what was. The future demands our attention.”

They talked for a while longer, their conversation weaving between the state of the colony and memories of those they had lost. Toby mentioned Jara and Ket, how they had become key figures in teaching the younger Hork-Bajir to thrive in their new home.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Subaru rose from his chair. “I should get going,” he said. “Thanks for taking the time to talk, Toby.”

She nodded, standing as well. “You are always welcome here, Subaru. The colony remembers those who fought for its freedom.”

Subaru smiled faintly. “Take care of yourself, Toby. And the others too.”

With that, he left her cabin, walking back through the colony toward the trail that led to Rachel’s grave.

As he left the cabin, the brisk morning air of Yellowstone wrapped around him. The Free Hork-Bajir colony had been relocated here a year ago, hidden deep within the park's sprawling wilderness. The trees stretched tall and proud, the sunlight filtering through their branches in golden streaks. The sound of distant water and chirping birds filled the air, natural and alive in a way Subaru rarely felt.
He walked carefully along the dirt path, his polished shoes crunching against the gravel. The flowers swayed gently in his grip. There were no tourists this deep into the park—no human eyes to wonder why he walked so purposefully.
It wasn’t until he reached a secluded clearing that he began to morph. He stepped off the path, into the brush, crouching low as his focus sharpened.

Subaru glanced around to make sure he was alone before stepping into the woods. With a deep breath, he focused on the morph. He felt his body shift and twist, bones reshaping, muscles stretching, feathers sprouting from his skin.

Within moments, he was a black hawk. The bouquet of flowers dangled awkwardly from his talons as he beat his wings, taking to the sky.

The forest spread out beneath him, a sea of green punctuated by rocky outcrops. Flying had once been a thrill, but now it was a practical tool, a means to an end. Subaru scanned the landscape until he spotted the clearing—a small patch of grass nestled among the trees, marked by a simple stone.

He landed softly, demorphing beside the grave. The transition from hawk to human left him momentarily disoriented, but he steadied himself quickly.

The grave was modest, almost unassuming. Tobias had carved the marker himself, the letters rough but heartfelt:

Rachel Berenson.
Warrior. Friend. Sister.

Subaru knelt, placing the bouquet at the base of the stone. The sunflowers swayed gently in the breeze.

“Hey, Rachel,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry I’m late.”


---

As he sat there, memories began to surface—fragments of a life that felt both distant and painfully close.

He remembered the trial of Esplin 9466 at The Hague. It had been a year after the war ended, and the Yeerk leader had been found guilty of countless war crimes. Subaru had watched as Jake took the stand, his voice steady but hollow as he recounted the events aboard the Pool ship.

The defense lawyers had been relentless, accusing Jake of being a war criminal himself. They brought up the order to flush the Pool ship, condemning over 17,000 Yeerks to die in the vacuum of space. The judge had overruled the objections, but the damage was done. Jake had walked out of the courtroom looking like a man broken beyond repair.

Then there was the dolphin morph incident—a misguided attempt by Marco and Cassie to cheer Jake up. They had dragged him into the ocean,forcing him to morph into a dolphin, hoping that the creature's natural joy and playfulness would lift Jake’s spirits.

For a brief moment, it had worked. Jake had swum alongside them, cutting through the waves with the grace and energy of his dolphin form. He’d even laughed—a genuine, clear sound that reminded Subaru of better days. But as quickly as the joy came, it vanished. When Jake returned to human form, he stood on the shore, staring out at the ocean in silence.

“I can’t escape it,” Jake had said, his voice low. “No matter what form I take.”

Subaru had stood beside him, unsure of what to say. What could anyone say to a leader who had made the choices Jake had been forced to make? Choices that had won the war but left scars no one could see.


---

Subaru’s gaze drifted back to the grave in front of him, and he let out a shaky breath. Rachel had been a force of nature, a whirlwind of bravery and recklessness. She’d been their sword, their warrior, the one who never hesitated to do what needed to be done. But even she had been human. Even she had fallen.

And Tobias...

Subaru closed his eyes, picturing the quiet, brooding hawk who had once been a boy. Tobias had chosen to stay in his hawk form, sacrificing his humanity to become their eyes in the sky. After Rachel’s death, he had disappeared for weeks, retreating into the wilderness. When he finally returned, he was changed—quieter, more distant, as though part of him had died alongside Rachel.

They had all changed.

Marco, always the joker, had thrown himself into the world of politics and media. He had become the face of the Animorphs, appearing on talk shows, writing books, and even advising on the policies surrounding the Hork-Bajir colony. But even as he smiled for the cameras, Subaru knew it was a mask. Marco’s jokes had grown sharper, more biting, as though he were daring the world to call him out on the cracks beneath his polished exterior.

Cassie, the heart of their group, had found her place working with the Hork-Bajir. She had returned to her roots, helping the colony thrive in their new home. She was the only one who seemed to have found some measure of peace, though Subaru wondered if even she carried ghosts of the past.

And Ax... Ax was gone. Taken.

Subaru’s hands clenched into fists. He could still remember the final mission—the last time they had all been together. Ax had been captured by an alien species, the Kelbrid, and the Animorphs had gone after him. Jake had led them, determined to save their friend. But the mission had gone wrong.

So very wrong.

Jake, Marco, and Tobias had disappeared along with the Andalite ship, vanishing into space. Subaru had stayed behind, tasked with protecting what little was left. He had tried to move on, to live a normal life, but the weight of their absence pressed down on him every day.

Now, here he was, visiting a grave hidden deep in the wilderness, still searching for answers, for meaning.

“This is better than the public one, huh?” Subaru murmured, crouching beside the cairn. The grave was simple—a pile of stones marking her resting place, untouched by civilization.

“They think you’re buried somewhere else. A hero’s grave, they call it. But this…” He brushed his hand over one of the stones. “This feels more like you.”

He placed the flowers at the base of the cairn, stepping back to sit cross-legged in front of it. His tie hung loose, his jacket open. He didn’t care how he looked anymore.

“I don’t even know why I keep coming here,” he said, laughing softly to himself. “It’s not like you’d want me to. You’d probably tell me to get off my ass and go do something useful. Maybe yell at me for wearing a suit.”

The wind whispered around him, brushing his hair into his eyes. He sighed.

“I’m sorry, Rachel,” Subaru muttered, his voice cracking. “We—we shouldn’t have done it. Jake shouldn’t have sent you in. I shouldn’t have let you go. None of it was worth this.”

His voice faltered, and he buried his face in his hands. The weight of the war had never left him. It clung to him like a second skin, suffocating in its intensity. The screams of battle, the silence that followed, the faces of the dead—they were as vivid now as they had been a year ago.

“I thought it’d get easier,” he whispered. “But it doesn’t. Jake’s drowning. Tobias left. Cassie’s trying to fix everything on her own. And me…” He exhaled shakily. “I’m just… here.”


---

He pulled out his phone, staring at the screen for a long moment before dialing.

The call connected after a few rings.

“Subaru?” His father’s voice was cautious, almost surprised. “You never call this early.”

“Yeah,” Subaru said, forcing a laugh. “Thought I’d check in. Say hi.”

His mother’s voice chimed in from the background. “Tell him to visit more! He’s always so busy these days!”

“I’ll try, Mom,” Subaru said, his voice soft. “Promise.”

The conversation fizzled out quickly, leaving him alone again. He set the phone aside, his gaze drifting back to the grave.

“I don’t know if I’ve done enough,” he said quietly. “If any of us have.”

The wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it a strange, faint voice—a voice that didn’t belong.

“You still have a choice.”

Subaru froze, his breath catching in his throat. The world around him began to blur and distort, the ground tilting beneath his feet.

And then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: The new world

The air around Subaru felt like it was being pulled taut, stretched beyond its limit. The voice—the one that had addressed him so suddenly, so ominously—still echoed in his ears, though it had gone silent.

His body felt weightless, as if he were suspended in the void. The last thing he saw before everything dissolved was Rachel’s grave, her cairn swallowed by the strange distortion in reality. His pulse hammered in his chest, his instincts screaming for him to morph—any morph, anything to ground him—but his body didn’t respond.

And then, it all shattered.

It wasn’t like a normal morph, or even the chaos of a battle. It was like watching the world itself come undone. The trees split into jagged, glimmering fragments. The ground below crumbled into blackness, and the sky above collapsed inward like shards of a broken mirror. Subaru didn’t feel himself falling so much as being pulled, yanked by some invisible force into the emptiness between those fragments.
He tried to scream, but no sound came out.

For what felt like an eternity, there was nothing. No ground, no sky, no air to breathe. Just him, floating in the void. The pressure on his chest grew unbearable, as though something massive pressed down on him, grinding him into nothingness. His mind raced, searching for answers.

The Ellimist? Could this be one of his games? Or Crayak, maybe—something to punish him, to make him suffer? But why now? Why after everything was over?
The voice returned, calm and patient. “Do you regret it, Subaru Natsuki? The war. The sacrifices. The choices that left you broken.”

Subaru clenched his fists. “Of course, I regret it! Every second of it! But I’d do it all over again if it meant stopping them—saving the people I could!”

There was silence for a moment, and then the voice responded. “Then consider this a gift. A world not of conquest or resistance, but one of possibility. A place where your resolve can be tested anew. Where your purpose might yet be found.”

“Who the hell are you?” Subaru shouted into the void.

The voice didn’t answer. Instead, the darkness around him began to pulse, like a heartbeat, and with every pulse came a rush of sensations: the smell of something sweet, the clang of metal against stone, the sound of distant voices.

“You are not done yet, warrior,” the voice whispered, now distant, fading. “Let’s see what your resolve is truly worth.”

The pulse became unbearable, each wave washing over him like a tidal force. His vision blurred, and the void began to tear itself apart, light spilling through the cracks. The pressure around him lifted, and for a moment, he felt the weightlessness of flight—the same freedom he felt as a bird, soaring high above the earth.

And then he fell.

---

Subaru slammed into the ground with a force that knocked the air from his lungs. Dirt and gravel scraped against his palms as he caught himself, coughing and gasping for breath. The sweet smell from earlier was stronger now, mingling with the acrid stench of smoke and sweat.

When he managed to push himself up, he blinked rapidly, his eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness. He was on a cobblestone street, the stones uneven beneath his palms. Around him stretched a bustling market square, vibrant and alive with the sound of merchants shouting their wares and customers haggling loudly.

“What… the hell?” he muttered, rising shakily to his feet.

The people around him were dressed in clothing that looked straight out of a medieval fantasy novel—tunics, cloaks, leather boots. Carts laden with fruit and vegetables trundled past, and a horse-drawn carriage rattled over the uneven cobblestones.

Subaru turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. The buildings were a mix of wood and stone, their rooftops sloping sharply, with colorful banners fluttering in the breeze. A massive castle loomed in the distance, its spires piercing the sky like something out of a fairy tale (like Alice in Wonderland).

“Okay,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, this has to be a dream. Or a morph-induced hallucination. Or maybe I’m just dead and this is some weird afterlife.”
A merchant’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Hey, you there! You gonna stand in the middle of the street all day, or you planning to buy something?”

Subaru turned toward the voice. A burly man with a grizzled beard stood behind a cart piled high with apples, his arms crossed and his expression annoyed.

“Uh… no, I…” Subaru trailed off, realizing how out of place he must look. His suit was covered in dirt, the tie still dangling loosely around his neck. He looked more like someone who’d stumbled out of a business meeting than someone who belonged in this world.

The merchant grunted and waved him off. “Another drunk,” he muttered under his breath, turning back to his wares.

Subaru staggered away from the cart, his thoughts racing. He needed to get his bearings—figure out where he was, what had happened. But every instinct told him one thing: this wasn’t Earth.

He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers. His body felt the same, but he couldn’t shake the sense of wrongness that lingered in the pit of his stomach.
“Rachel,” he whispered, the name slipping out before he could stop it. His heart ached at the thought of her cairn, left behind in the shattering of his world.

The voice’s words echoed in his mind: A world of possibility.

Subaru clenched his fists. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice low and determined. “If this is some kind of test, I’ll figure it out. I survived the Yeerks. I can survive this, too.”

A distant commotion drew his attention. A group of armored knights was rushing toward the edge of the square, their weapons drawn, their shouts urgent. The crowd parted around them, murmuring in confusion and fear.

Subaru frowned. “What now?”

Whatever was happening, he had a feeling it would be impossible to avoid. Taking a deep breath, he tightened his tie, brushed the dirt off his suit as best he could, and followed the knights.

---

Subaru followed the knights at a distance, weaving between stalls and carts, careful not to draw attention. He caught snippets of their conversation—something about “the fugitive vanishing near the upper canal” and “magic interference”—but the jargon meant nothing to him.

At the edge of the square, a narrow street branched off, quieter, flanked by tall, worn buildings with ivy creeping up their stone façades. Subaru approached a group of townsfolk standing near a produce stand and offered a polite nod.

“Hey… sorry, where exactly is this?” he asked, voice casual.

The woman nearest him tilted her head, her cat-like ears twitching. “You’re in Lugunica, stranger. Easternmost province of the continent. You new from the West?”

Subaru blinked. “You could say that.”

The others chuckled and returned to their chatter. Subaru nodded, murmured thanks, and turned toward a nearby alleyway. He stopped short.

That wasn’t cosplay.

Not just the woman. All around him, people moved with inhuman grace—some with fluffy tails swishing beneath cloaks, others with sharp, pointed teeth peeking past grins. One man unloading crates had ears like a Doberman and a jawline that belonged on a comic book cover. A child darted by with iridescent skin that shimmered like a Butterfree’s wings.

“What the hell kind of Alice in Wonderland fever dream is this?” Subaru muttered, backing slowly into the shadows of a narrow alley.

Once hidden between the high, cracked walls of two buildings, he crouched low, his heart racing. This place… it wasn’t Earth. It wasn’t any version of Earth he knew. And that meant he had to be careful. He had no allies. No backup. No idea what powers ruled this world.

He checked both ends of the alley. Empty.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he closed his eyes and began to morph.


---


It started with the familiar itch beneath his skin. Always the itch—like his muscles didn’t fit anymore, like something inside wanted to be let out. He clenched his teeth as his arms twitched, his fingers spasming. The bones cracked and shortened, dissolving from the inside out.

His skin darkened, bleeding from pale flesh to ink-black feathers, sprouting in patches like oil spreading across water. His jaw retracted, flattening and fusing into a hard, curved beak, the cartilage clicking into place like a lock snapping shut.

His legs bowed and bent backward at impossible angles. Toenails blackened and sharpened into vicious talons that scraped against the cobblestone. His eyes bulged, restructured, lenses folding and compounding until each eye could see in nearly every direction at once. One became the piercing vision of a bird of prey—sharp, telescopic. The other, the multifaceted chaos of a fly—vibrating with hypersensitive motion.

The worst part was always the shrinking.

Subaru’s entire body compressed, organs rearranging, bones hollowing. His spine crackled like popcorn under pressure, ribs bending inward, lungs changing to suit avian breath. His heart fluttered faster and faster, syncing with the form he took—wild, erratic, efficient.

Last came the wings—long, ragged, glossy feathers stretching from his arms, flapping once, twice, lifting him just off the ground.

And in seconds, he was airborne—a raven with compound fly-eyes, a hybrid scout.


---

From above, the city unfolded like a storybook map. Narrow cobblestone streets twisted like rivers between densely-packed buildings. The market square pulsed with life, its color and movement vibrant under the high sun. Beyond the rooftops, he saw the castle again—massive, ornate, wrapped in golden banners.

The eastern edge of town dipped into a canal district, its water glowing faintly blue, crisscrossed with bridges and arches. Smoke drifted from chimneys and blacksmiths’ forges. The knights he’d followed were regrouping near an archway lined with shimmering glyphs.

He banked left, gliding silently above the crowds, searching for anything out of place—anything familiar.

But everything was strange.

Subaru circled once more, landing atop a high spire, his feathers ruffling in the breeze. Beneath him, the city thrived, oblivious to the observer above.

He was alone here.

But he wasn’t helpless.

---

From above, the city stretched beneath him like a storybook flipped open — cobbled streets like veins, rooftops like cracked ceramic tiles, and color everywhere. Flags flapped from towers, market stalls burst with fruit and fabric, and people moved like wind-driven clockwork, oblivious to the raven-fly hybrid circling high above.

It felt like flying through a fever dream.

“This is Wonderland,” Subaru thought grimly. “I fell down the rabbit hole and landed ass-first in a world of dog-eared merchants and Pokémon lookalikes.”

Even the air smelled different — sweeter, somehow, like baked fruit and wet earth. He glided past a chimney where purple smoke curled into heart shapes before fading. Below, a girl with rabbit ears twirled a staff that glowed with runes, laughing with a vendor who seemed to be made entirely of moss.

A horse snorted beside a cart, then sneezed sparks.

Subaru flapped harder, gaining altitude, his wings buffeting the wind.

“Rachel would’ve hated this,” he thought. “Or maybe she would’ve punched something just to see if it bled.”

His fly-eye caught flickers of motion in all directions — bouncing light, movement behind windows, strange creatures fluttering in alley shadows. It was too much. Too rich. Too unreal.

And yet, there was order here, beneath the madness — knights patrolling in formation, magic circles carved neatly into the city’s walls, symbols that pulsed softly in the stone like veins under skin.

“Alice had a tea party with a mad hatter,” Subaru mused. “I get dropped in a fairytale and the first thing I do is turn into roadkill with wings.”

Still, he couldn't deny the thrill. Morphing was second nature by now, but flying over this world — wild, alive, uncharted — sparked something in him. Something he hadn’t felt since before the war ended.

Curiosity.

And maybe… a flicker of hope.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3 : Memories

Subaru dipped lower, the wind slicking across his feathers as he banked hard and glided toward the river. Below, the city's hustle gave way to quieter streets, where the stone buildings huddled closer together, their shadows stretching long under the lowering sun.

He spotted it — a narrow alley tucked between a bakery and a crumbling tower, its mouth yawning like a secret. Beyond it, the glint of moving water shimmered through the gaps in stonework. The river.

He could just see the gleam of water weaving between the stone foundations of the city. Perfect.

With a twitch of his wings and a sudden downbeat, Subaru slipped into the alley’s cover, landing neatly behind a stack of wooden crates.

The sounds of the market were muffled here, the air cooler, tinged with river mist.

He glanced around. No one. Just the distant murmur of merchants and the low rush of the river. He took a breath.

His talons scraped against the stone, and the moment he was sure no one had followed him, he let the morph begin.

The transformation began subtly, a shift in his balance as his center of gravity changed.

It never hurt. No matter how many times he’d done it. The beak twisted first — bone cracking, reshaping into human cartilage and lip. Feathers shriveled like ash in reverse, curling back into pores with an itch so deep it made him want to scream. Wings split at the shoulder joint, bones lengthening, snapping into arms as if someone were stretching him out over a rack.

His chest convulsed as avian lungs gave way to human ones, the first breath like drinking boiling oil. Talons pulled themselves blunt and soft into toes, scraping against the cobblestone as flesh bloomed back across them.

Then came the worst part: the eyes. The compound vision shattered in an instant, fracturing into shards of impossible angles.

Light exploded in his skull before settling again, painfully, into plain binocular human sight.

His torso broadened as bones rearranged themselves without pain — just a strange, ticklish sensation, like your muscles remembering how to hold you up after a long sleep. Air filled his lungs in a familiar rhythm. Seconds later, he stood on two feet again, brushing a feather from his sleeve.

He staggered, breathless, clutching the wall to stay upright. Sweat clung to his brow. His suit was wrinkled, filthy, half-unbuttoned from the transformation. His heart still beat too fast — half from exertion, half from awe.

He straightened and stepped to the edge of the alley. The river stretched before him, wide and slow-moving, reflecting the violet-orange hue of the sky like liquid glass.

The city fading into a surreal painting behind him.

A stone bridge arched gracefully over it a little further downstream, where children played near the water’s edge, tossing pebbles and laughing.

But here, in this alley by the banks, it was quieter. Almost peaceful.

Subaru knelt near the edge, dipping his fingers in the cool water. His reflection stared back at him — gaunt, dirty, eyes shadowed with memory.

“This place…” he murmured, watching a boat drift lazily under a stone arch bridge. “It’s like Alice in Wonderland if Lewis Carroll took a side job designing Pokémon.”

The city was a melting pot of beings that defied logic — fantasy races, animal hybrids, and humans moving together like it was just another Tuesday.

“Okay, Subaru. Wonderland rules. Nothing makes sense, and the Queen might want your head. Got it.”

“A world of possibility,” he muttered. “Right.”

---

Subaru sank down on an overturned crate by the alley wall, out of sight from the bustling street. The city hummed behind him, full of strange people and stranger rules. His stomach grumbled. His thoughts spiraled.

“Okay,” he muttered, pulling out his wallet. “Let’s see what kind of multi-dimensional fortune I brought with me…”

He flipped it open.

First thing: a faded coupon for half off a bottle of mayonnaise at a store back home. He blinked at it. “Nope. Not unless I want to bribe someone with condiments.”

Next: his health card. “Cool. Too bad I’m not in a country that recognizes national insurance.”

Then: a coin. Heavy. Metal. Shaped like a dinosaur claw. Tobias had given it to him when they were kids — twelve years old and sure the world was big, strange, and mostly harmless.

“Nope,” Subaru sighed, though his fingers lingered on the coin.

A punch card from a local café back home — one more drink and he’d have gotten a free smoothie. “Damn it. That was a good café.”

And then—
He froze.

Tucked behind the card slots was a photo, worn at the edges, the colors sun-faded but still bright enough to bring the summer back.

All six of them.

It was taken in the park behind Cassie’s barn. Sunlight spilled through the trees like honey. Tobias, fully human, smiling awkwardly at the camera. Ax, in his morph, eyes wide with wonder, eating a dripping popsicle like it was the finest delicacy on Earth. Marco mid-grimace, tongue sticking out. Cassie doubled over laughing at his face. Jake stood off to the side, arms crossed, that dependable grin of his visible even in profile.

Rachel—

Rachel was in the center, tilted just slightly to catch the light in her hair. She’d posed effortlessly, like she belonged in magazines, even when the others were goofing off. But there was joy in her eyes too, not just perfection.

Subaru was in the back, grinning like an idiot. It had been one of the rare days without missions, without morphs, without the weight of the war.

He could still feel the heat of the sun on his shoulders.
Hear Marco shouting, “Don’t let Ax near the freezer again!”
Cassie tossing a frisbee.
Rachel racing him barefoot across the grass.
Jake handing out soda like he was hosting the end of the world.
And Tobias... just smiling. For once, just being a boy.

Subaru stared at the photo for a long time. His thumb brushed across Rachel’s face.

The ache in his chest flared up again, sharp and immediate. A whole world gone. Friends he could never call again. Home—if it even existed now—forever changed.

He folded the wallet slowly, slipping it back into his jacket.

“Alright,” he whispered. “No money. No backup. No clue where I am. But at least I’ve got memories and a bird morph. Let’s figure this out, one crazy step at a time.”

Just then, something moved behind him — the faintest scrape of a boot against stone.

---

Subaru turned slowly, still half-lost in the ache of the photo in his hand—only to find three figures blocking the alley’s exit.

They moved like predators who’d already picked out their prey. One tall and lean with jittery fingers, another thick-necked with a wide gut, and the third—short, wiry, and squinting at him like he was already imagining Subaru’s wallet in his hands.

They didn’t introduce themselves. They didn’t have to.

The biggest one took a step forward, cracking his knuckles. He had a shaved head, skin the color of sunbaked leather, and a mouth twisted in a permanent sneer. A scar bisected his left eyebrow.

To his left stood a man with a jaw comically large, like someone tried to stretch the bottom half of his face and gave up halfway. He looked confused to be here, blinking slowly like the idea of thinking too hard might hurt.

And then there was the thin one—twitchy, with darting eyes and a voice that probably sounded like sandpaper and regret. He kept glancing over his shoulder, one hand already fondling the hilt of a small blade at his belt.

“Hey now,” the bulky one drawled, looking Subaru up and down. “What’s a fancy-dressed guy like you doing skulking in back alleys?”

Subaru held his hands up, calm but alert. “Listen, I get it. You think I’m loaded because of the suit. But I’m flat broke. Seriously. Wallet’s empty. All I’ve got is lint, expired coupons, and a picture of my dead friends.”

The twitchy one snorted. “Dead friends? Yeah right. What noble carries his own sob story?”

“I’m not a noble,” Subaru said quickly. “Just lost. Very lost. Like, ‘wrong world’ kind of lost. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

The leader stepped closer, jabbing a thick finger at Subaru’s chest. “That wallet says otherwise. Hand it over.”

Subaru sighed, already regretting ever checking it outside the morph. “Told you. There’s nothing in it worth—”

The big-jawed one grabbed him from the side, wrenching the wallet from his jacket with surprising speed. Subaru stumbled, but didn’t fight back. Not yet.

The twitchy one flipped it open and started rifling through the contents. “He wasn’t lying. What the hell is this?” He held up the mayo coupon. “You tryin’ to bribe us with condiments, suit-boy?”

The leader ripped the tie from Subaru’s neck, tossing it over his shoulder. “Clothes are worth somethin’. He’s got boots, too. And maybe we’ll see if his coat’s lined with coin.”

“I’m telling you,” Subaru said, keeping his voice even, eyes watching their movements, “you’re wasting your time. I’m a tourist, not a noble. The only thing noble about me is how bad I am at dying quietly.”

That earned a laugh from the twitchy one, a sharp, unpleasant sound. “We’ll be the judge of that.”

Subaru’s eyes narrowed. They were escalating. Fast. He wasn’t sure how long he had before this turned violent. He didn’t want to hurt them. Not unless he had no choice.

But if they pushed him—

If they really pushed him—

Well, there were worse things than a raven.


---

A/N: I now realized due to the comments that many people didn't know about Animorphs so quick summary.(First Author too, yay).

How many of you have read Animorphs? Comment down bellow.

Also do you want a Prequel series?

The Animorphs series was first released in June 1996, with the debut book The Invasion. The series continued until May 2001, when the final book, The Beginning.

I don't need to tell you who wrote this since you can checks the tags.

The Animorphs series consists of 54 main books, plus: 4 Megamorphs (longer, multi-POV books), 4 Chronicles (backstories of key alien species/characters), 2 Alternamorphs (choose-your-own-adventure style books). So in total, there were 64 books.

Five kids gain the power to morph into any animals for two hours or else your stuck, a gift from a dying alien(Elfangor, an Andalite). Earth is secretly being invaded by the Yeerks—parasitic creatures that crawl into your brain and take control of your body. Anyone could be a host.

The Animorphs wage a secret war against an enemy that sees, hears, and thinks through human eyes.

They use animal forms for fighting, spying, and evading danger.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Honor Among Thieves? 

Subaru held up both hands again, trying one last time to defuse what was quickly spiraling.

“Alright, let’s not do anything dumb, okay? You’ve got my wallet, you’ve seen it’s full of trash and nostalgia. Let’s just pretend this was a bad bet and go our separate ways. No bruises, no knives, no screaming. Sound good?”

The three didn’t answer. They exchanged glances.

His eyes flicked to the twitchy one—the only one armed, blade still half-sheathed, but his grip was awkward, nervous. Jumpy. An opportunist, not a killer.

The big-jawed one? Brute strength, slow thinker. Moved like he relied on brawling over brains.

The leader though—he was different. Calculated. Poised. Subaru didn’t miss the way he shifted his weight or how he was sizing Subaru up in turn.

This was going nowhere.

“I’m serious,” Subaru said again, quieter now. “Walk away.”

The leader grinned. “Nah.”

He let out a sigh.

Figures.

Subaru moved first.

With a sudden burst of motion, he pivoted and kicked the big-jawed one in the knee—hard. The man yelped and crumpled halfway before Subaru spun, yanking a capped pen from his inner pocket and driving it into the leader’s side—not deep, just enough to make him feel it.

The man howled, staggering back—and caught Subaru’s fist square across the face before he could recover.

The leader dropped to one knee, spitting blood.

Subaru barely had time to turn.

The twitchy one froze, knife halfway drawn, his expression flickering from shock to rage. Subaru didn’t wait. He sidestepped as the blade flashed forward, narrowly avoiding the stab, and lashed out with a sharp kick to the man’s shin.

The twitchy one yelled and stumbled, but only for a second.

“Crap,” Subaru hissed, backing toward the alley wall.

The two he'd dropped were already scrambling back to their feet.

He blinked, heart pounding.

Wait. Already?

Back home, a solid kick or punch like that would’ve kept someone down. These guys? They recovered fast. The hits landed hard. Too hard.

“They’re stronger than normal humans,” Subaru muttered under his breath. “That explains why the pen felt like I hit a brick.”

The leader rose slowly, blood on his chin, eyes burning with rage. He wiped it with the back of his hand and smiled.

Subaru’s fists clenched.

“Of course,” he muttered, exasperated. “Of course I get transported and immediately have to fight three fantasy goons in a back alley. My luck is trash.”

The leader lunged.

Subaru twisted just in time, letting the attacker’s momentum carry him forward. With a quick sidestep, Subaru clipped his ankle with a sweeping kick, sending the man stumbling into the alley wall.

Three-on-one. His brain ticked through options like a computer under pressure. He dodged a sloppy swing from the twitchy one, then another from the brute with the cracked jaw. Not clean fighters. Not trained. But strong. Too strong. When they hit, it rattled him. Not quite human strength.

He considered it—morph. Just a partial, maybe. Talons or bear paws for hands. He could end this in seconds. But out in the open like this? The risk.

No. Not yet.

Another swing came wide. He ducked and spun, muttering, “These guys are like Great Teacher Onizuka dropouts. All fists, none of the charm…”

He weaved through another attack, thoughts flickering like static. Why didn’t I ever finish You're Under Arrest by Kōsuke Fujishima? That had actual heart and was funny. Natsumi Tsujimoto was the best.

Why didn't I finish that damn manga!

He shouted the last part as he ducked low, jamming his pen into the twitchy one’s wrist. The man yelped, a blade clattering to the stone.

Subaru surged forward and slammed an elbow into the jaw guy again. The man reeled—twice down in under a minute.

The leader snarled and charged, but Subaru met him head-on this time. He pivoted, shoulder down, and rammed into him with all his weight. The man hit the alley wall hard and slumped.

Subaru grabbed the fallen knife, kicked it up with his foot, caught it in one hand, and pointed it between them.

“You really wanna keep this going?”

His breath came in short, ragged bursts. His arms trembled—but the steel in his voice was real.

“Your move.”

---

The three thugs staggered to their feet, groaning and bruised. Subaru, knife still in hand, leveled them with a flat stare. “Okay, how about we call this even,” he said, breath still heavy. “I keep the pen, you give me back my wallet, and we all pretend this didn’t happen.”

The jaw guy muttered something unintelligible—probably about his face. The twitchy one looked more offended than hurt, rubbing his arm.

Then, suddenly, a blur of motion cut through the alley.

A girl—blonde, small-framed, crimson eyes sharp with mischief—darted past them. She didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. She threw a wink over her shoulder and shouted, “Live strong, losers!” as she vaulted up the side of the alley wall in a dizzying show of parkour and vanished over the rooftops.

Subaru blinked. His jaw fell open. “Was that—did she just—” He almost laughed. “What is this, Sonic meet Mario?”

The three would-be muggers looked just as baffled and confused.

Subaru cleared his throat and straightened his suit. “Right. Sorry about the jaw,” he told the leader flatly. “And sorry to you too,” he added, nodding at the bruised man behind him. “But I’m gonna need my wallet back. Please.”

The men hesitated. Not because they wanted to fight again—but because they clearly weren’t sure if Subaru was completely unhinged.

And then—

“Stand down, criminal!”

Subaru turned sharply at the voice, his heart skipping a beat.

The first thing he saw was silver-white hair that shimmered in the dusky light, then the long, pointed ears—elegant and unmistakable.

Elf ears?

A girl stood at the alley’s mouth, dressed in a flowing white and lavender outfit that seemed too clean, too regal for a city this grimy. Her eyes were ice-blue, piercing and calm.

No—not blue.

Purple.

Subaru blinked. Once.

He barely had time to register more before she stepped forward, expression grave.

“Drop the weapon.”

---

A few seconds earlier...

She was fast—but Emilia was faster. The blonde girl’s figure darted through the streets like a flicker of gold in the fading light, her laughter trailing behind her like wind chimes caught in a gale. The moment she’d stolen the insignia, Emilia gave chase, weaving through market stalls, dodging confused pedestrians, and silently praying Puck wouldn’t say I told you so later.

The thief veered suddenly, vanishing into an alleyway between a bakery and what looked like an abandoned tower.

Emilia’s boots struck the stone with light thuds as she turned the corner.

And stopped.

There were four of them in the alley.

Three looked like the kind of people she usually caught running from guards—bruised, disheveled, and radiating “petty criminal” energy. One of them had a jaw already swelling. Another was cradling his arm. The third—the leader, she guessed by posture—was still getting up from the ground.

But it was the fourth who made her pause.

He stood taller than the others, shoulders drawn back, eyes focused. The first thing she noticed was his hair—a black so dark it almost shimmered. Uncommon. Very uncommon. And then his eyes—sharp, not just in shape but in clarity. They weren’t confused or afraid. They were… calculating.

His clothing was odd, too. Tattered, dirty, but tailored—like it once belonged to someone of rank. His stance, even now, was coiled, like a spring waiting to snap. And there was a faint smudge of red on his sleeve.

She tensed.

Is he with them? she wondered, drawing herself up as she stepped forward.

“Stand down, criminal!” she called, letting her voice carry.

The man—boy?—turned his head slowly.

Their eyes met.

And something about him unsettled her. Not because he looked dangerous—though he clearly could be. But because in that single heartbeat, he didn’t look like he belonged here at all.

He looked like someone who had fallen into this place.

Still, he held a blade. Still, he stood among thugs.

And the insignia was gone.

Her hand drifted to her hip. “Drop the weapon,” she said again, firmer this time. “Now.”


---

He didn’t flinch.

Even when she gave a clear command, with a metaphorical sword at her hip, voice as firm as any guard captain’s, he didn’t show fear. Just… exasperation? And something else—a flicker of amusement?

Who was this man?

His clothes didn’t match the city. His hair marked him as foreign. And those eyes—they weren’t wide with guilt or panic. They were calm. Tired. Like someone who’d been through worse than this. Much worse.

And yet—he stood there in the alley with three bruised thugs and a knife in hand.

But he didn’t argue. Didn’t posture.

Instead, he sighed and—clink—dropped the weapon.

The sound echoed through the alley, sharp and final.


---

“They were trying to rob me,” he said simply, lifting both hands in the universal gesture of I’m not here to start trouble.

His voice was steady, if a little hoarse. “They saw the suit. Figured I was rich. I told them I wasn’t. They didn’t listen. I didn’t ask to be in this mess.”

He gestured toward the fallen thugs with a tilt of his head. “That one’s jaw might need ice, by the way.”

He offered the faintest of smirks—wry, but not mocking. Then, catching himself, the expression faded. “Look, I don’t want a fight. I just want my wallet back and maybe some directions to... literally anywhere that makes sense.”

He paused, eyeing the white-haired girl more closely. Elf ears? And those eyes... violet. Striking.

Something about her felt important.

And—wait. Hadn’t someone just parkoured up a wall while yelling “Live strong!”?

What was this place?

Detroit?

---

A/N: Subaru was so unserious in that fight. And now he meets Emilia 

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 : No Honor Anomg Thieves? Think Again! (Team Up)

Okay. Play it cool. You didn’t get stabbed, you didn’t have to morph in front of everyone, and elf-girl hasn’t tried to kill you yet. That’s a win.

He lowered his hands slowly, keeping his movements deliberate—nonthreatening. Then, with a cautious glance at the silver-haired girl still watching him like a hawk, he stepped toward the thugs.

The twitchy one scowled but didn’t move. The jaw guy groaned something unintelligible from the ground. The leader was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, clearly reconsidering his life choices.

Subaru crouched down and started patting himself. Jacket, inside pocket... wallet? No. Pants pocket? No. He looked around, even nudged the toe of his shoe under one of the crates.

Nothing.

Wait...

His heart sank.

No.

He looked up at the three thugs, mouth tight.

Those idiots didn’t keep it.

He turned in a slow circle, scanning the alley.

The blonde girl.

The one who’d shouted “Live strong!” and bounced off a wall like a goddamn ninja.

She’d passed right through them.

And suddenly, the timeline clicked.

She didn’t just run through the chaos—she took the wallet. Right out of one of their hands while everyone was too distracted watching Subaru throw hands like a pissed-off high school gym teacher.

Subaru stood still for a moment, hands on his hips, staring at the sky.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Then he muttered under his breath, “I get transported, almost mugged, punch three idiots into the pavement, and then some parkour gremlin steals my only piece of Earth left. Of course. Of course this happens. My luck is genetically cursed.”

He sighed hard enough to deflate a tent.

“Damn it.”

Subaru turned toward the elf girl, brushing dust from his sleeves, his face the picture of dry composure.

“So,” he said, nodding toward the direction the blonde had vanished. “Why were you running?”

Her expression stayed calm, regal even, but she answered without hesitation. “She stole something from me. I was chasing her. I didn’t get a good look at her face.”

Subaru’s eyebrow twitched. “Huh. Well, seems like we’ve both been played. She took something from me too.”

He straightened, trying to look more helpful than suspicious. “I might’ve seen more than you did. I can help you find her.”

A pause.

Then he offered a slight smile, extending a hand. “But first, name for a name?”

The girl hesitated just a moment—barely noticeable—before replying.

“It’s Satella.”

Subaru’s smile didn’t falter.

But inside, a small alarm bell rang loud and clear.

Satella.
No way.

He wasn’t sure how he knew—maybe the way she said it, maybe something he caught in her eyes, or maybe just the instinct that came from being lied to by far too many people, far too many times.

But that wasn’t her real name.

He kept his expression smooth, letting the silence settle for a beat before replying.

“Nice to meet you, Satella,” he said casually. “I’m Jean Paul Valley.”

Technically not a lie, he mused. Just not one anyone here could fact-check. Thanks, Batman comics.

She raised an eyebrow at that—just slightly—but didn’t question it.

Just as the conversation seemed to settle, Subaru felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

A presence.

Not hostile. But definitely... not normal.

Before he could say anything, a soft, breezy voice drifted in from behind the elf girl.

“Ohhh? So this is the one causing all the trouble?”

Subaru flinched—and immediately dropped into a low crouch, eyes scanning. The voice had come from thin air.

And then, floating into view like it was the most natural thing in the world, came a small, silvery creature—like a cross between a cat and a snowball, eyes glowing with playful intelligence.

Floating.

The moment he saw it, something in Subaru's mind did a backflip. His body reacted before his brain could stop it—slightly ears lengthened, balance shifted, and fur began to sprout. Not full morph. Just partial.

But then—

Wait. No. Stop.

Reality snapped back into focus. He caught himself mid-shift, with a sharp mental command, he forced the changes to reverse—fur receding, limbs stabilizing, the strange buzz of transformation pulling back like a tide.

He’d nearly made a rookie mistake. Morphing here, in front of a stranger(Even if it's floating feline and an elf, seriously what had his life become?), in public?

Subaru clenched his fists, grounding himself. Get it together.

He turned, wide-eyed. “Wait. Are you a talking floating cat?”

The creature gave a smug little spin. “Mmmhmm. Name’s Puck. I’m her partner.”

Subaru blinked. Then, with complete sincerity: “Can I pet you?”

Puck floated closer, lounging midair. “You seem polite. I’ll allow it.”

Subaru reached up and gently scratched behind Puck’s ears. “You’re warm. I thought you'd be cold like a snowball.”

“I get that a lot,” Puck purred, clearly pleased. His fluffy body wriggled slightly as he leaned into Subaru’s hand.

Behind them, the elf girl—Satella—watched with a look of restrained disbelief and mild exasperation.

“Are you two done bonding, or should I come back later?” she asked dryly.

Both Subaru and Puck froze mid-pet, their hands (or paws) still in motion.

“Ahem.” Subaru cleared his throat and pulled back. “Sorry. Lost track of the investigation for a second.”

She folded her arms. “Do you have any clue who that girl was? Outside of her stealing from both of us?”

Subaru considered lying. Then decided against it.

He sighed. “Not a clue. Blond hair, red eyes. Acrobat-level mobility. Stole my wallet and your whatever-it-was. That’s all I’ve got.”

“Insignia,” she said absently, already moving toward the thugs still slouched against the wall.

She knelt beside them. Subaru raised an eyebrow as she placed her hands over the bruises and cuts left by their brief scuffle.

Then—light. Soft, blue-tinged, shimmering like snowfall under moonlight.

The bruises faded. The blood stopped. The groans quieted.

Subaru watched, stunned. Not just by the magic—but by how casually she used it. There was no hesitation in her movements. No anger. Just calm efficiency.

Puck crossed his arms, tail flicking.

“Okay,” he muttered, watching her work. “Gotta admit… that’s pretty cool.”

Puck floated closer. “She’s better than she lets on.”

“I can see that,” Subaru said quietly, glancing back at the girl healing the very people who just tried to rob him.

---

The questioning didn’t take long—mostly because the thugs didn’t have much to offer. They rubbed their bruises and shot suspicious glances at Subaru, but with a glowing elf girl standing nearby and a floating cat radiating judgment, they weren’t exactly in a bargaining position.

“She was just a kid,” the twitchy one muttered. “Never seen her before. Red eyes, blonde hair. That’s all.”

“She was fast,” the jaw-bruised thug added. “Like... real fast.”

Subaru crossed his arms. “So you don’t know her name, where she lives, who she fences her stolen goods to, or how she learned to vault over buildings like a damn ninja?”

The leader, who’d finally gotten back on his feet, scratched his cheek. “I think someone said her name once… Felt?”

Subaru blinked. “Felt? Like... felt-tip pen? Felt blanket?”

“I dunno, man. That’s what I heard.”

Subaru sighed, then gave them a once-over. “Alright, listen up. You all clearly suck at this, so let me help you out.”

The three stared at him.

“Five quick tips for becoming better robbers.”

“What.”

“Number one: don’t try to rob someone without checking if they’re worth robbing. All you got from me was a free ass-kicking and a coupon for mayonnaise.”

“...”

“Two: don’t be obvious with the weapon. You show the blade, you make people defensive. Lose the element of surprise.”

He started counting off on his fingers.

“Three: stances. You stand like drunks at a bar. A strong stance wins fights.”

“Four: sneak up on your mark. Don’t block the only exit and strike a pose like you’re in a stage play.”

“And five: if all else fails? Teamwork. Learn to coordinate. You all fought like you were trying to out-lose each other.”

The three thugs just stared, stunned.

Then Subaru’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

He stepped toward the leader and snatched something from his side pocket. A small, oddly shaped coin—etched like a dinosaur claw.

“You were holding this?”

The man opened his mouth, but Subaru already turned away, tucking the coin into his jacket with a whispered, “Thanks for keeping it warm.”

Then:

“Well then,” the elf girl said suddenly. “I’m in a hurry.”

She turned sharply, her cape fluttering behind her as she strode out of the alley like she hadn’t just dropped a healing spell on three street punks.

Subaru stared after her. “Wait—seriously? That’s it?”

He jogged after her. “Hey! Hold on, White Lady of Justice!”

She didn’t stop.

He matched her pace. “We’re both looking for the same thief. It makes sense to team up.”

“I don’t need help,” she said curtly.

Behind them, Puck floated lazily into view and offered Subaru a sheepish smile. “Don’t take it personally. She’s not very honest with herself.”

“Puck!” she snapped, glaring at the spirit.

“What?” Puck twirled. “He seems trustworthy enough.”

The girl turned back to Subaru, eyes narrowing. “And if you’re expecting some kind of reward...”

Subaru raised an eyebrow.

She sighed. “I may look like this, but I’m just as financially disabled as you. Except, you know… without the tattered outfit.”

That one stung getting called broke by another person. Subaru didn’t flinch—but his shoulders tensed slightly.

“I’m not looking for money,” he said after a beat. “I just want my wallet back. And... maybe do one decent thing today. You healed those guys. Least I can do is help you get your stuff back.”

She looked at him a little longer than necessary. Puck, meanwhile, let out a soft hum of approval.

Finally, she gave a small nod.

“Alright. Jean,” she said, still skeptical. “Let’s find this Felt girl.”

Side by side, they stepped out of the alley and into the gold-tinted streets beyond.

---

A/N: Subaru instantly felt something weird about puck by being near him.

He also noticed Emilia clearly lying to him, but won't comment on it, because he doesn't halfway care about it nor is he interested to find out why.

And, even after arc 1 is over, Subaru will sometimes use the name Jean Paul Valley. (But that's spoilers~) (｡•̀ᴗ-) 

And since im still here i can explain the two mangas, i used from last chapter because, i forgot to include it like an idiot last time.

Plus i don't want to go re-edit chapter 4. It took the overview from Wikipedia.

You're Under Arrest  (Japanese: 逮捕しちゃうぞ, Hepburn: Taiho Shichauzo)  is a Japanese  manga  series written and illustrated by  Kōsuke Fujishima . It was serialized in  Kodansha 's  seinen manga  magazines  Morning Party Zōkan  and  Morning  from 1986 through 1992. ^{[4] [5] [6] [7]}  It centers on a fictional police station in  Sumida, Tokyo, as its officers tackle everyday criminals while keeping people safe. It mixes both drama and action with humor.

— The only piece of the series i watched was the Anime. I never finished it.

Fun fact: The Tehee/Ah-eto-bleh meme came from there. And i never did finish the anime. So my frustration to having never finished the anime, i transferred it to Subaru.

If you want to see the photo of the meme.

https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/ah-eto-bleh

And the other manga.

Great Teacher Onizuka , officially abbreviated as  GTO , is a Japanese  manga  series written and illustrated by  Tooru Fujisawa . It was originally serialized in  Kodansha 's  shōnen manga  magazine  Weekly Shōnen Magazine  from January 1997 to February 2002, with its chapters collected in 25  tankōbon  volumes. The story focuses on 22-year-old ex- bōsōzoku  member Eikichi Onizuka, who becomes a teacher at a private middle school, Holy Forest Academy, in  Tokyo , Japan. It is a  standalone sequel  to Fujisawa's earlier manga series  Shonan Junai Gumi  and  Bad Company , both of which focus on the life of Onizuka before becoming a teacher.

— Finished the Anime, but never read the manga.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6 : The Search

The trio walked in silence through the cobbled streets—well, walked in two cases. The third member of the group floated just above the ground with lazy, feline grace.

Subaru kept his eyes moving, watching the crowd. Even now, after everything he’d seen, this world still felt too surreal to settle in his head. The architecture, the blend of races, the sheer magic of it—it was like living inside a painting with its own rules.

Then the elf girl—‘Satella,’ or so she claimed—spoke up, her voice cutting through the quiet.

“I want to thank you. For offering your help.” She looked ahead, not at him. “It’s better to say ‘thank you’ than ‘I’m sorry.’ Even if I should apologize for being rude earlier. So… thank you, Jean Paul Valley.”

Subaru gave a slight nod. He could tell she meant it, or at least was trying to. That was something.

Jean Paul Valley, he thought, suppressing a smile. Never thought I’d be using a Batman alias in another world.

He turned his eyes back to the street. No satellites. No facial recognition. No internet. No data.

“We can’t even Yahoo this girl’s name. Welcome to analog fantasy land.”

He inhaled. Alright. Time to be social. Be extroverted. You can do this. Ready? One… two… three—

“Uhhhh—hey, people!” he called to the crowd. “Anyone seen a girl? Fourteen-ish, blonde hair, red scarf? About this tall?”

He gestured as best he could, voice carrying.

The results weren’t ideal.

People stopped what they were doing—but not to help. Instead, they looked confused. Wary. Especially the fathers, who immediately stepped in front of their families, casting him dirty looks. His tattered suit, slightly bruised face, and general sketchy vibe weren’t doing him any favors.

Subaru grimaced and tried to clarify. “It’s not like that! She’s a thief. She stole something from my friend here.” He gestured toward Satella.

More whispering.

Faces shifted from cautious to something colder. Some stepped back. Others simply stared.

“…Witch.”

The word slipped through the crowd like a whisper carried on wind.

Subaru’s brow furrowed. Witch? That was—no. They weren’t talking about him. They were looking at her.

He opened his mouth. “If you’ve got something to say, I’d appreciate it if you sai—”

A tug on his sleeve cut him off.

‘Satella’ was already pulling him out of the crowd.


---

A few minutes later, they sat near a canal. The water flowed slowly behind them, the sun dipping lower into gold.

Subaru glanced at her. “What was that back there? The way they looked at you... the way they said that word...”

The blatant racism in their tone pissed him off. He understood it was a medieval society but his modern sensibilities urged him to call them out on their irrationality. 

Satella didn’t look at him. Instead, she brushed her silver hair aside, revealing long, elegant, pointed ears.

“This happens,” she said, softly. “It’s normal. I’m a half-elf.”

There was something in her voice when she said it—something practiced. A quiet armor she wore with all the weariness of someone who’d grown used to judgment.

Subaru blinked.

“Well, that explains it,” he said thoughtfully.

She braced—he could see it in her shoulders. She was waiting for the insult. The rejection.

He tilted his head, shrugged slightly.

“I mean... how cute you are.”

She froze.

“I mean, not because of the ears! Just, you know, generally. You’re—uh, yeah.” Subaru winced. Nailed it.

She turned toward him, cheeks tinged pink, perplexed. “You really aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Nope. That obvious?”

Before she could answer—

“N~Nya!” A paw swiped toward his face. Subaru instinctively ducked, blinking.

“What was that for?”

“Sorry,” Puck said, floating smugly overhead. “But seeing Lia flustered like that? It just felt right. Let me punch you.”

“Just don’t pulverize me.”

“Will do! N~Nya!”

A paw tapped Subaru gently on the forehead. It was the softest hit he’d ever felt. Not even worth flinching.

Compared to torn muscle, shattered ribs, and god knows what else he'd endured during the war, it was like a breeze.

“You two, stop playing around! The insignia!” Satella snapped, hands on her hips.

“Oh, so now we’re the ones who forgot?” Subaru teased, grinning.

''And don't forget my wallet''

“How the tables have turned,” Puck chimed in.

Satella groaned, visibly restraining herself. “Ungh~!”

Then—a new voice.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation about an insignia being stolen.”

They turned.

---

A man approached, radiant in appearance. Fiery red hair, ocean-blue eyes, and a pristine white coat with purple trim. Tall. Dignified. A massive sword hung at his hip, gold decorating the hilt like it belonged in a legend.

The moment the red-haired man appeared, Subaru felt something shift.

Subaru stiffened slightly. He didn’t know who this was, but... the man had presence. Like meeting a walking monument. Or, weirdly enough, the kind of pressure he’d once felt from the Ellimist—except warmer. Less being something.

It wasn’t just the guy’s appearance—though, to be fair, the man looked like he walked out of a fashion-forward war epic. Radiant crimson hair that glowed in the sun, a uniform so crisp it might have been pressed by angels, and eyes the color of calm oceans. And that sword—gold-guarded, so ornate it probably had a name and a tragic backstory.

No, it was the presence. Like gravity itself had deepened the second this guy stepped into their space.

And Subaru felt it—not fear, not danger, but significance. Like when you know you’re in a room with someone important, even if you don’t know why yet.

“Reinhard?!” Satella blurted out, clearly panicking.

Subaru raised an eyebrow. “You know this guy?”

“...Something like that,” Satella replied, avoiding his eyes. Puck let out a long sigh beside her.

The red-haired man stopped a respectful distance away and placed a hand over his chest, bowing slightly.

“My apologies for intruding. I am Reinhard van Astrea, Sword Saint of the Dragon’s Kingdom of Lugunica, descendant of the line of master swordsmen.”

Subaru blinked again.

Dragon Kingdom?

Why does every name in this world sound like a JRPG boss stage?

Sword Saint? Okay. Cool. Not intimidating at all.

He cleared his throat and forced a polite, neutral expression.

“Jean Paul Valley,” he replied.
Subaru inclined his head slightly in return. “Unemployed. Currently specializing in getting robbed, getting judged, and petting magical cats.”

“Reinhard van Astrea,” the man said once again, voice smooth, polite, and with the kind of clarity Subaru would expect from a fantasy audiobook narrator.

Subaru blinked. His brain did a few mental gymnastics.

Subaru’s posture didn’t change much—he kept his arms loose at his sides, his expression unreadable, neutral, like he hadn’t just been addressed by someone who felt like a cross between a holy knight and a final boss.

Internally, though? He was screaming just a little.

Not from fear, exactly. More like awe. Or wariness. Reinhard gave off the same kind of chill he’d felt around Jake during the hardest days of the war—command presence (And the stupid decisions). The kind that made people follow you without thinking. Except unlike Jake, this guy looked like he hadn’t lost a day’s sleep in his life.


Subaru deliberately didn’t offer a bow. No point pretending to understand the social customs around here. He’d already messed up by yelling about a missing teenage girl in public—no need to stack more suspicion on top.

“Appreciate the courtesy, Reinhard,” he added, using the name like a neutral placeholder. “We were just talking about a small matter of theft. A girl ran off with something important.”

He glanced at ‘Satella’ briefly—she looked tense, visibly uncomfortable. Puck hovered close to her shoulder, unreadable.

Subaru continued, “I assume you heard something from the crowd back there?”

Reinhard gave a soft, apologetic smile. “There were… a few concerning murmurs. I only wished to ensure nothing unjust was unfolding.”

“Of course,” Subaru replied. “You don’t need to worry. The only injustice is how good your hair looks.”

A blink.

Silence...

Then Puck let out a snort of laughter.

‘Satella’ sighed in visible pain.

Reinhard, to his credit, didn’t look offended. In fact, he looked... amused.

He meant it half-jokingly, but part of him was serious. If this guy was as powerful as he felt, they were definitely entering deeper waters.

Careful, Subaru, he told himself. You’re not in the trenches anymore—but you’re still in enemy territory. Act like it.

He crossed his arms and looked toward ‘Satella.’ She hadn’t said much, but he could feel the weight behind her silence. Reinhard wasn’t just some knight. To her, this was probably something way more complicated.

He decided to play it cool.

---

The pair shook hands—(Jean and Reinhard)—and for the briefest moment, Reinhard blinked in surprise.

The boy’s words had caught him off guard. Not many referred to the title of Sword Saint with such casual irreverence. Most either revered it or recoiled from it. This one? He made it sound like a strange job listing.

He took a second, closer look.

The young man—foreign in appearance, sharp of eye and sharper in wit—bore signs of a recent scuffle. Minor bruising, a tattered suit, fatigue carefully hidden under a thin veneer of sarcasm. Not the usual signs of someone brought up in the capital’s comfort.

Still, appearances were not always truths. Lady Emilia—though she called herself something else at present—had brought him along, and that alone earned the boy a measure of trust.

Reinhard quickly corrected the brief lapse in his smile, restoring his usual composure.

“Pleased to meet you, Jean Paul Valley. Ahem—Regardless, returning to the matter at hand. E—”

“Ah!” she cut in quickly, waving her hands in a panic.

Reinhard fell silent as she leaned closer and whispered urgently in his ear, “Reinhard, can you please not say my name? He doesn’t know. It’ll lead to... complications.”

“Oh. My apologies.” Reinhard gave a small, understanding nod. “Understood.”

He straightened and resumed with professional calm. “The lady here appeared distressed. I overheard something about an insignia being stolen. I couldn’t simply ignore it.”

At the word insignia, her posture stiffened.

“I-it’s not what you think, I—!” she began, clearly struggling to find footing. The panic in her tone made Reinhard’s brows knit with concern. He knew what it would mean if word got out—if a candidate for the royal selection had allowed her insignia to be stolen...

'Jean', however, stepped in smoothly.

“We’re chasing a small-time thief,” he said. “Wallets, shiny jewelry, insignias, bracelets—you name it. She’s fast and slippery, probably picks pockets for a living.”

Reinhard’s eyes shifted subtly. Not a lie. Just careful omission. Impressive.

“Just a few minutes ago, I nearly got mugged,” Subaru added. “We thought maybe the girl was part of the same racket—or at least operating nearby. We were trying to catch her before she did it again.”

Reinhard nodded slowly, absorbing the explanation. “I see. But if that’s the case, why not file a report with the guard station?”

He paused, then added with a faint smile, “I’m off duty today, but if you like, I’d be happy to lend assistance—”

“There’s no need, Reinhard!” she interjected quickly, too quickly.

Jean followed up immediately. “Really, it’s fine. She’s just a kid. We don’t want her arrested or punished. We’re not trying to ruin her life—just want her to give the stolen stuff back. Maybe apologize. That’s it.”

Reinhard blinked. “Ah… I understand.”

He stood silent for a moment longer, absorbing their words.

These two were just trying to do a good deed by helping a young girl realize the error of her ways while he, as a knight, would just have thrown her into a prison. Truly, a selfish monster. The swordsman thought about himself.

So that’s the path they’ve chosen, he thought. Mercy instead of law. Correction over condemnation.

His shoulders relaxed. “Then I’ll leave you to it. Forgive the interruption.”

He offered a final nod—but hesitated for just a moment, his senses flickering.

Through the web of divine protections, he felt the half-elf girl's emotions shift—an odd mix of tension and quiet relief. She didn’t want him here. Or rather, she feared what his presence might bring.

He didn’t blame her.

“I wish you both the best of luck,” he said sincerely.

And with that, Reinhard van Astrea turned and walked back toward the main street, his white coat catching the sunlight as he disappeared into the crowd—his presence fading like a ripple in still water.

---

A/N: Subaru halfway flirting with Reinhard was my favorite moment, i wrote.

I think the guy might have towards red heads with the way it seems to go. Idk.

Who do you think character wise this Subaru would end up with someone?

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Parkour and Loot house

“Phew... that could've gone south really quick,” Puck said as he floated up from behind ‘Satella,’ the fur on his tail still puffed with tension but his face smiling in relief.

Subaru glanced at him, brow furrowed. “How so?”

Puck gave a little shrug mid-air. “We have… circumstances. Let’s just say it’s better if the knights don’t get involved. Not because I don’t trust them, but because what’s at stake can’t afford attention. Not from their kind of attention.”

“Ah, I see,” Subaru nodded. “So no knights. That’s fine. We’ll go grassroots then.” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the small image projection device—his low-tech version of a ‘wanted’ poster—and tapped it on.

A sketch of the blonde thief shimmered into view in faint light.

With their plan solidified, Subaru and ‘Satella’ made their way back onto the main street, asking passersby if they'd seen the girl. One by one, they came up empty. No leads. Just awkward glances and the usual discomfort at Satella’s presence. They were hitting a wall.

At least, until the sound of soft crying drew their attention.

A small girl with mint-green hair stood near a post, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Her tiny fists clutched her dress, and she looked seconds away from breaking down completely.

That little girl looks lost, maybe we should he-

Subaru opened his mouth, but ‘Satella’ beat him to it.

“Let’s help her.”

Subaru felt a quiet flicker of satisfaction. Same wavelength.

The girl looked up—and nearly toppled backward in fear as she caught sight of ‘Satella’s’ hair and violet eyes.

“I’m sorry—I’m not who you’re looking for,” Satella said gently, crouching beside her. “Are your mom and dad around? Are you lost?”

The girl teared up, stepping back uncertainly.

Satella froze, unsure of how to help—until Subaru stepped forward, already digging into his pocket.

“Okay, watch closely,” he said, crouching to the girl’s level. “I’ve got something special. See this? A whole twenty-five cents—very rare around these parts.”

He grinned, holding up a shiny quarter.

“I’m going to clutch it in my hand. Tight, tight, tight... aaand—” he opened his palm.

The coin was gone.

The girl gasped, eyes wide with wonder.

Subaru reached up and pretended to pluck the coin from her hair. “And... there it is again! Magic.”

He offered it to her. “It’s yours now. Keep it safe—it’s a rare treasure in this world.”

“Thank you, mister!” she chirped, smiling up at him with eyes that were no longer wet.

“No problem,” he said warmly, ruffling her hair. “What’s your name?”

“Plum!”

“Nice to meet you, Plum. Did you get separated from your parents?”

“Yeah... from mommy,” she said, her voice falling again.

“We’ll help you find her,” Satella promised.

They took her hands—Satella on one side, Subaru on the other—and walked gently through the crowd.

Subaru chuckled. “Huh. I kind of look like her dad like this.”

Satella eyed him. “You look a bit young to be a dad. I’d be more inclined to think you’re her older brother.”

Subaru balked. “Wha—hey! I’m plenty adult! I mean, I look the part, don’t I?!”

She smirked, saying nothing.

“Mommy!” Plum suddenly cried, breaking into a run.

“Yep, that’s a wrap.” Subaru chuckled.

“Oh thank goodness, thank you for finding my daughter!”

“No problem ma’am, just doing our part, helping out the little guy and all!”

“Please, let me reward you somehow-”

“I don’t think that would be necessary, not to sound rude but we are pressed on time. We are looking for a thief. A pickpocket to be specific. The kind that does hits and runs.”

“Are you looking to catch her? Good luck with that!”
Subaru paused, noticing what the woman just said. “…What do you mean ‘her’? We never mentioned the gender.”

“Oh, my husband owns a fruit stall by the market and he is always complaining about this blonde girl coming and going from the slums, robing purses and fruit. Apparently the knights have tried to capture her before but she always gets away.”

---

As they followed Raksha through the winding streets toward the market stall, Satella glanced sideways at Subaru, curiosity tugging at her brow.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small notepad, the edges slightly curled, and a slim pen tucked neatly in the spiral.

“You always carry that?” Satella asked, watching him uncap the pen.

“Habit,” Subaru said with a shrug. “It helps to sketch things when you don’t have satellites, smartphones, or, you know, any functioning infrastructure.”

Subaru crouched by a low stone bench, balancing the pad on his knee. “Besides, sometimes it’s better to go analog.”

He worked fast. His strokes were clean, confident. The pen scratched softly over the page as the shape of a face emerged—sharp eyes, mischievous smile, short-cropped blonde hair. It wasn’t exact, but it was close. Enough to jog memory.

Satella peered over his shoulder. “That’s... actually really good.”

Subaru gave a small smirk. “Took a few art classes. Drawing people? Not that different.”

A tall, broad-shouldered man with green hair and a scar on his forehead scooped her up into a bear hug.

“Raksha, you found her!”

“Not really,” the woman—Raksha—replied. “These two did.”

The man turned, sizing Subaru and Satella up. “Thanks for helping. Name’s Kadomon. I assume you didn’t do it out of the kindness of your heart, since my wife brought you here.”

“Daddy, the nice knight gave me a shiny coin!” Plum chimed in.

Kadomon raised an eyebrow. “Knight, huh? You don’t look like any knight I know. And what’s this about money?”

“Oh, drop it,” Raksha sighed. “They’re not after payment. They’re after a pickpocket—one that’s been causing trouble around the market. I figured you could help them.”

Kadomon grunted, but nodded. “Ah. So you're the ones trying to catch the little terror.” His posture relaxed. “What do you want to know?”

“We wanted to confirm the thief’s identity. Ever seen this girl?” Subaru asked, holding up the drawing.

Plum gasped. “The drawing’s so pretty!”

Subaru smiled a little. “Thanks.”

Kadomon’s eyes narrowed, then widened in recognition. “Yeah, I’ve seen her. Blonde. Slips through the slums like a shadow. She uses the rooftops to move around—makes it hard for the guards to keep up. If you’re looking for her, find Rom at the Loot House.”

“That’s more than we hoped for” Subaru said. “Thank you”

“We should move quickly,” Satella said, glancing at the sun. “I’d prefer to get there before dark.”

“Shortest path to the slums?” Subaru asked.

Kadomon nodded toward a side street. “Through the rooftops. Just like she does. It’s quicker, but... not easy.”

“Got it,” Subaru said.

Plum tugged on Satella’s dress. “Miss! Please take this!” She held out a flower—wild, simple, and beautiful.

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart,” Satella said, visibly touched.

But then her face changed, and her eyes turned downcast.

“I guess this is where we part ways,” she said quietly.

“Huh?” Subaru blinked. “Why?”

“I can move quickly across rooftops,” she explained. “You’d fall behind.”

Subaru raised an eyebrow.

“Is that so?”

Then he took two steps back... ran forward... and leapt.

His foot caught the edge of a fruit crate, propelling him up. One hand grabbed a window ledge, and he vaulted onto the tiled roof in a single, practiced motion.

His shoes scraped slightly against the slate, but his balance didn’t waver. He crouched there, silhouetted against the late afternoon sky.

Satella stared, stunned.

Puck floated up beside her. “Well, that’s unexpected.”

Subaru looked over his shoulder and grinned. “I've done since i was twelve, Rooftops are nothing.”

He extended a hand toward her.

“You coming, or what?”


---

The family of three, and all the bystanders looked up at him from the floor in shock and ‘Satella’ herself did not fare any better.
Satella looked surprised for a brief moment.

Satella jumped—and Subaru caught her hand without hesitation, pulling her up beside him onto the rooftop with a fluid motion.

Smooth, his brain teased, just a second too late.

That’s when the realization hit him. Wait. I just pulled her up—like, full-on heroic lift. We’re holding hands. Still holding hands—

His eyes widened.

“I—I… uhhh… Loot House! Right, yes, that’s where we’re going!” he stammered, his voice pitching up as he scrambled to redirect the conversation. “Slums! Target location! Let’s go!”

It was a disaster of words, each one crashing into the next like panicked dominoes.

Meanwhile, Satella had only just processed that they were off the ground. She blinked, looking around in mild disbelief. He pulled us up here so quickly. I didn’t even realize we’d left the street until he let go of me…

Wait—he let go?

He was holding me?

Her eyes went wide, and a soft blush crept across her cheeks as the image played back in her head. She stood there for a moment, visibly flustered, her thoughts a whirl of confusion and warmth.

“N~gh!” Puck popped up beside them, his expression twisted in a mock scowl. His little paws crossed over his chest like a judgmental guardian spirit.

How dare this tattered-boy just pull his daughter up like that—touching hands and everything! Unforgivable.

“We don’t have all day!” he grumbled, doing his best to cut their moment short. “Get going already!”

“Right!” the two of them shouted in unison.

Which only annoyed him further.

They took off, moving swiftly across the rooftops, leaping from one structure to the next with practiced ease. What would have taken hours on foot was reduced to mere minutes in the sky.

Subaru was impressed.

Satella didn’t just run—she flowed. Every movement was efficient, graceful. When the space between buildings was too wide, she conjured ice beneath her feet, forming quicksilver bridges that evaporated the instant her jump cleared. No wasted energy. No hesitation.

Whatever kind of power she has, Subaru thought, she’s trained with it. This isn’t just talent—it’s control.

He leapt after her, his war-honed body remembering how to move across unstable terrain, every step a return to instincts he'd buried under civilian life.

The rooftops became their road, and the wind their guide.

And for the first time since he’d arrived in this world, Subaru felt—just for a moment—like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

---

After what felt like twenty minutes of rooftop leaping and high-altitude sprinting, the pair landed at the very edge of the city.

The slums.

Their elegant road of tile and timber gave way to uneven, crumbling shingles and soot-streaked stone. The scent of wood smoke, rot, and stagnant water drifted on the breeze. From above, it had looked like a tangle of mismatched roofs and narrow alleys. Up close, it was worse.

Subaru dropped down beside Satella onto a crooked platform near a leaning building, his breath catching—not fully from the exertion, but from the sight below.

Children in tattered clothes sat huddled around half-burned crates. Women and men with sunken cheeks moved slowly, their eyes dull and tired. Trash littered the streets. Some people didn’t move at all. Others eyed him with suspicion—or contempt. The air was thick with decay, desperation, and silence.

His fists clenched.

“This place…” he muttered. “Do—do the upper districts not care about any of this?” It wasn’t directed at Satella. Just a thought said out loud, thrown into the ash-laden wind.

Earth had its homeless, sure. But this—this was systemic rot. An entire piece of the city carved away and discarded.

He didn’t expect an answer.

So instead, he shook himself out of it.

“Okay,” he said, forcing some neutrality into his tone, “last stretch. We just need to figure out where Rom’s Loot House is. Then we’re golden.”

“I think I can help with that,” Satella said, her voice lighter now, carrying just a hint of pride. “I’ll ask the lesser spirits.”

“Lesser spirits?” Subaru tilted his head. “There’s, uh… more than just the fuzzy floating ones like Puck?”

She giggled softly. “Yes. Unlike Puck, they haven’t gained self-awareness or strength. But they’re still helpful—especially when you know how to ask.”

She closed her eyes and extended a hand.

In the stillness that followed, the air changed. Subtle, but real. Like a shift in pressure just before a summer storm.

And then—light.

Tiny wisps of colored glow began to flicker in from the shadows, hovering like fireflies around Satella’s outstretched fingers. Blue, green, gold, violet—dozens of them, each barely the size of a fingertip. They danced in the air, orbiting her in lazy spirals, humming a sound just beyond the reach of hearing.

Subaru stared, slack-jawed.

He’d seen strange things. Alien tech. Timetravel. The hork-bajir home world. The Andalite planet. Mind-control slugs. Morphing powers that defied every law of biology.

But this wasn’t power. This was… elegance.

A girl, standing in the slums, her silver hair catching the sun, eyes calm and focused, surrounded by these ethereal lights—it wasn’t flashy, and it wasn’t explosive.

But it was beautiful.

Maybe one of the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He felt his face flush, the heat blooming under his skin. He didn’t even bother hiding it.

She turned to him, smiling gently. “The lesser spirits say there’s a giant man and a little blonde girl living just north of here. A house at the edge of the district, near the city wall.”

“Jean?” Her smile shifted to concern. “You’re blushing… do you have a fever?”

“What?” He blinked. “Oh—uh, no. No fever. I just…” He looked away, waving it off. “Let’s go get your insignia and my wallet.”

He didn’t look her in the eyes again—not yet.

---

By the time they reached the Loot House, the sun had dipped low, casting the slums in hues of burnt orange and shadow.

Satella stepped toward the door, but Subaru gently stopped her with a hand to her wrist.

“Let’s scope things out first,” he whispered, voice low and cautious.

With silent footsteps, Subaru crept around the building’s perimeter, checking for alternate exits or signs of others. Most of the windows were nothing more than crooked wooden boards hammered across crumbling frames. But between the slats, he could just make out two silhouettes.

One, absurdly tall and built like a boulder in a trench coat—had to be Rom.

The other: small, agile frame, familiar blonde hair.

Felt.

He circled back and crouched beside Satella. “We’ve got the right place. Rom’s inside with the girl. You’ve seen how fast she is—I don’t want this to turn into a chase or a fight.”

“Me neither,” Satella whispered. “But what’s your plan?”

“I go in alone,” Subaru said. “Try to negotiate, okay.”

“Okay?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s like a yes or an affirmative,” Subaru explained, slightly amused.

“Oh. But how are you going to do that? I don’t have any money, and your coins look foreign. I wouldn’t want you sacrificing anything for my sake. Besides, why should we pay for something that’s mine to begin with?”

Subaru grinned, disarmingly innocent. “I was thinking more… aggressive negotiation. Less bartering, more intimidation.”

“Really?” she asked flatly.

“I also want my wallet back,” he added cheerfully.

Satella sighed. “...Okay then.”


---

The Loot House’s door slammed open.

A figure entered, clad in sleek, dark blue-orange-gold plating with sharp white accents in a tattered suit. A long coat swirled behind him as he stepped forward, helmet visor down(found it, and yes he had to clean it, waste of five minutes), slit eyes fixed on the room’s two occupants.

Rom nearly choked on his drink.

Felt jumped to her feet.

“Please tell me that’s your client, Felt,” the giant grunted.

“RETURN WHAT YOU’VE STOLEN,” Subaru bellowed, pointing dramatically at the girl, “OR FACE DIRE CONSEQUENCES!”

Satella and Puck, peeking in from the doorway, had to stifle their laughter. The sudden switch from boyish awkwardness to booming mech-knight theatrics was almost too much.

“What the—?! A knight?” Felt cried, drawing a dagger from behind her back.

Rom shifted, already gripping his mace.

“Yeh, you don’t look like any knight I’ve seen,” Rom muttered. “Too scrawny. And what’s wrong with your voice? Doesn’t sound natural.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING SCRAWNY?!” Subaru snapped, hands still on his hips. “I HAVE A LEAN, ATHLETIC CONSTITUTION. THIS IS JUST HOW I SOUND WHEN I’M INTIMIDATING, OKAY?!”

Rom squinted. “...Clearly not.”

“Ah!” Felt suddenly pointed. “I know you! You’re that loser Chin and the boys tried to mug earlier! You didn’t sound like that back then!”

Subaru’s eye twitched. “Hey! I beat them. And you ran off with my stuff!”

He paused, then exhaled. Time to de-escalate.

“One, two, three… calm.”

He inhaled again, then dropped the voice and stepped forward.

“Okay, look… Felt, Rom—please. Just give back what you’ve stolen. I don’t want to fight a giant old man and a little girl over a necklace. I’ve done enough of that lately. Just… please give it back? Pretty please?”

“No can do,” Felt said, shaking her head as she held the insignia between two fingers. “This little gem is our ticket outta this dump. I’m only handing it over to my client.”

Subaru sighed. “Alright then. Plan B. ENTER DRAMATICALLY.”

Satella strode into the room, eyes locked on Felt. Her glare alone could chill molten lava.

“Return what you’ve stolen,” she declared, “or face dire consequences.”

Subaru stared. “Oh, come on. She says it and it sounds cool?”

“I thought you sounded adorable,” Satella chimed in false sweetness.

“AUGH, not you too…”

Rom and Felt looked at Satella for the first time—and then everything changed.

The girl’s violet eyes. The silver hair. The air around her.

“Silver hair… a half-elf?”

“A-a-a-aren’t you—?”

“It’s an accidental resemblance!” Satella said reflexively, as if she had said it a hundred times before.

Subaru caught the slight hitch in her breath. He stepped forward, pointing a finger. “Hey, not cool. You don’t get to stare and judge like that.”

Rom tried to push the conversation forward, regaining his footing. “Alright, here’s how it is. You and your girlfriend—”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Satella said flatly.

“…Ouch?” muttered Subaru.

Rom rolled his eyes. “Fine. You two get outta here. Leave the girl alone. Or I start swinging.”

Subaru’s eyes narrowed. “That a fact?”

He raised one hand—and let it morph.

In a second, his fingers sharpened into sleek black claws, the musculature subtly altering beneath the skin. A jaguar’s paw, graceful and deadly, pointed right at Rom’s face.

Rom’s eyes widened. “...Okay. Give them the damn insignia.”

“WHAT?! Not you too!” Felt shouted.

As the bickering resumed, Subaru’s sharp ears twitched.

Metal sliding.

He heard the whisper of movement, too close to Satella.

“PUCK! SHIELD HER!”

Without missing a beat, a circular ice shield bloomed into existence behind her—just in time to catch the dagger that would have lodged in her back.

“Bit closer than I like,” Puck muttered, flicking the shield aside. “Nice ears, Subaru.”

''No issue! Didn’t think it actually would work, though... Good guess on me."

Puck was about to say something.

A new voice purred from the shadows.

“Ara~, and here I thought I had the perfect angle.”

She stepped into the light like a dream twisting into a nightmare—tall, graceful, dressed in little more than silk and menace. Her long black hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, her smile far too wide, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

Subaru’s senses screamed.

Danger.

“That’s a spirit, isn’t it?” she murmured, tilting her head at Puck. “How delightful. I’ve always wondered what a spirit’s insides looked like.”

This woman is unhinged.

“Lady, what the hell are you even saying?” Subaru asked, his voice sharp. “You’re talking about dissecting people like it's nothing.”

Felt growled. “Tch. You psycho bitch...”

The woman ignored her entirely.

“If the item’s true owner is here,” she said softly, “there’s no room for negotiation. I’ll simply kill everyone. You’ve failed to complete your task, and your incompetence has wasted my time.”

She smiled sweetly—like a mother praising a child for trying—before turning cold.

“You really are just another slum rat.”

Felt's jaw tightened.

And Subaru… stepped forward.

“Okay, first off—no one talks to a kid like that. Especially not when they’re doing their best just to survive in a garbage system like this.”

Even Satella blinked, surprised at his tone.

“So how about you cut the villain monologue,” Subaru said, voice sharp now, “and back up before someone gets really pissed off?”

---
A/N: Next chapter Elsa vs the crew!

Subaru is going to regret those words in the next chapter, poor dude.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Crew vs assassin

Subaru stepped forward, placing himself between the assassin and the rest of the room, his stance relaxed but his tone biting.

“You clearly need help upstairs,” he said, gesturing vaguely to his temple. “Like, serious ‘see-a-licensed-therapist’ levels of help.”

The woman arched an eyebrow, amused. “What are you blabbering about?”

“As an Animorph—and a good citizen,” Subaru said, puffing his chest out in mock bravado, “it is my sworn duty to protect the innocent, stand against villainy, and uphold the sacred flame of justice!”

His voice deepened into a truly awful imitation of a Saturday morning cartoon hero. “For the good of all peoples, the spirit of peace, and the honor of the morphing grid—!”

Then he dropped the act mid-sentence and gave her a sly grin.

“Made you look.”

Her eyes widened in realization—just a second too late.

CRACK—CRASH!

A volley of razor-sharp ice shards shot from above, slamming down around her. Shards shattered against the floor, the walls, and her cloak, driving her back and forcing her into a defensive stance.

The crowd flinched, eyes wide as the woman was momentarily engulfed in ice.

Hovering in midair, Puck gave Subaru an approving smirk. “I don’t know about justice or cosmic hero codes, but that speech? Awkward as it was, it worked. Nice misdirection, land-walker.”

Subaru stared up at him, deadpan. “Glad my theatrical embarrassment counted for something.”

Still, part of him was surprised. Not at the attack—he knew Satella and Puck could handle themselves—but at how readily violence was accepted here. Everyone didn't panic. No one screamed. Just mild shock, like they’d seen a mug spill.

Is that just how this world works? Life is that cheap?

He tried to rationalize it.

I mean, sure, I stabbed a mugger earlier... but that was self-defense. Totally different.

Definitely different.

Probably.

Subaru blinked, refocusing. Stay sharp. They weren’t out of danger yet.

He definitely should morph.

His gaze snapped to where the assassin had fallen.

“You actually got her?” he asked, taking a cautious step forward. “That should’ve left, like... a pool of blood or something, right?”

But the moment the dust cleared, his stomach sank.

The woman wasn’t gone.

She stood silently amid the ruins of the ice, her cloak shimmering unnaturally. The shards that had pierced through her were reduced to melting splinters around her feet.

Then, with a faint crack, the icy shell encasing her crumbled—like glass under pressure—and fell away.

Subaru felt a cold spike of dread. She hadn’t even drawn a weapon yet.

“Not quite,” she purred, brushing frost off her shoulder as if it were lint.

“She’s using some kind of reinforcement spell…” Subaru muttered, eyes narrowing.

Satella stepped forward, undeterred, raising her hand. Her eyes were locked on the assassin with fierce resolve.

“Don’t underestimate a spiritual-arts user,” she said firmly.

A storm of crystalline light burst to life around her—dozens of ice shards hovering mid-air, glinting in the fading sunlight like suspended stars.

This time, she wasn’t waiting.


---

The assassin’s eyes flicked toward Subaru.

Then she lunged.

“Jean, watch out!” Satella shouted, unleashing another volley of ice shards to intercept her.

The woman weaved through them like liquid shadow, twisting midair, her cloak fluttering like smoke. One shard grazed her cheek, but the rest missed.

Subaru barely had time to react—her knife arced toward his face.

He ducked.

CRACK!

The impact tore across his helmet. Sparks flew. Metal screamed. The visor shattered. Pain exploded across Subaru’s face.

His eye was gone.

He screamed.

Blood poured down the side of his face as he staggered back. The world doubled, blurred. Somewhere, Satella was shouting his name. Jean. He couldn’t focus on anything except the searing heat radiating from his skull.

Adrenaline took over.

He yanked the emergency latch on the ruined helmet, ripped it off, and hurled it to the assassin. His hands were slick with blood, one eye completely blind. He didn’t hesitate.

He grabbed the pen from his jacket and flung it.

The assassin twisted as she dodged the helmet—but not fast enough. The pen embedded into her eye with a sharp pop.

Satella sent another volley of ice shards.

She hissed in pain, recoiling, and Subaru dove behind the counter.

Heart hammering. Vision narrowing.

Morph. Now.

The thought was instinct.

He almost went for the Howler—its power, its speed—but he stopped.

No.

Not again.

Instead, he focused inward.

Jaguar.

His spine popped as it lengthened. His muscles bulked, reshaped. His skin rippled, dark fur blooming across his arms like a living tide. The pain dulled as the morph took over, his missing eye regrowing slowly behind the shifting bone.

His hands became paws. Claws slid from their sheaths. His nose flared as his sense of smell surged to life, sharper than any morph except hawk. He could smell his own blood, the burn of Puck’s ice, the sweat of fear, and—

Her. The assassin.

He crouched low, muscles taut.

Still cloaked in shadow behind the counter, now jaguar fully formed, he listened. The sounds of the battle had shifted—faster, more chaotic.

Now.

He sprang forward.

The table exploded as he launched off it in a blur of muscle and fangs.

The assassin slashed at Satella, but she countered—her ice shards forming a crystalline barrier mid-swing, deflecting the blade. The woman hissed and darted left, slipping around her in tight arcs while batting away Puck’s attacks from above.

Subaru came at her from behind, claws aimed at her leg, low and fast.

She saw him a heartbeat too late.

The jaguar collided with her, biting deep into her thigh with a sickening crunch. Her momentum snapped like a branch, and she tumbled, slamming into the far wall.

But somehow—somehow—she landed on her feet.

She didn’t even scream.

Subaru crouched low, growling, blood dripping from his maw. He expected the others to thank him—maybe cheer—but instead, they flinched.

Rom raised his weapon, eyes wide.

Felt aimed her dagger.

<It’s me!> Subaru hissed, his voice in thought-speak. <Jean!>

He turned back to the assassin, ears flat against his head. Should’ve picked the bear morph. Damn it.

The assassin leapt backward, cloak swirling as she reassessed the field.

She paused—then shifted her attention.

Her gaze landed on the pair frozen in place since the battle began: Rom and Felt.

<Soft targets,> Subaru realized. <Shit.>

The woman darted forward like a shadow reborn, aiming straight for Felt.

The girl barely moved in time, stumbling back and raising her dagger. Steel clashed with steel. Sparks flew.

Then came the second blade—hidden, silent, already arcing toward Felt’s exposed side.

Subaru snarled.

He sprinted—fast, faster than anything in this world should be—and threw himself between them.

The blade grazed him, carving through his tail, but he didn’t care. He slammed into Felt, knocking her out of the path of the second strike. The pain barely registered.

Rom’s eyes widened at the sight of his granddaughter nearly being gutted.

With a guttural roar, the giant charged.

“BLARGH!” he bellowed, swinging his mace with terrifying force.

The assassin sidestepped at the last second.

Satella and Puck pressed the attack, launching another barrage of ice shards from two sides. But Elsa moved with terrifying grace, her body twisting impossibly to evade most of the barrage.

Then she lunged again—only to stumble.

Her foot stuck.

She looked down.

A thin layer of ice clung to her boot—shot from Puck’s earlier barrage and unnoticed until now.

Elsa blinked.

“…Does this mean I’ve been had?”

“Goodnight!” Puck shouted gleefully from above, launching another hailstorm of frozen death.

But the assassin didn’t stay still.

She wrenched her leg free, the ice snapping with a crack of frost and leather—and somersaulted out of the blast’s path just in time.

The shards crashed into the wall behind her.

Subaru, still crouched low, growled.

I should’ve ripped that damn leg off.

“How lovely… for a second there, I genuinely thought I was dead!” Elsa said with a smile far too bright for someone bleeding from her foot and other parts.

Subaru recoiled, visibly disturbed. <How morbid can you be?!>

Elsa didn’t answer. Instead, she bent down and pressed a chunk of ice to her mangled foot. Steam hissed from the contact, rising in thick curls. The ice reshaped, forming a grotesque mimicry of her foot—a chilling glass slipper of blood and frost.

Yeesh. Creepy, alright… Subaru thought, his fur bristling.

Puck hovered beside Satella, flickering dimly. “I’m sorry, Lia… that took more mana than I expected.” His voice was quiet, apologetic. His body began to shimmer with translucent light.

“We can take care of the rest,” Satella said gently. “Just rest. Thank you.”

Wait—what?! Subaru blinked. Who’s “we”? She’s been kicking all our butts!

At that moment, Rom and Felt charged with a fury born of desperation. Subaru bolted to flank, slinking low and fast.

<Who are you!?> he asked angered through thought-speak.

The assassin swayed back from Rom’s mace and spun away from Felt’s dagger, laughing all the while.

“Elsa Granhiert,” she answered aloud, almost casually. “But names don’t matter. You’ll all be corpses soon.”

Subaru snarled and lunged, his claws slicing toward her side.

She twisted—fast—and ducked beneath the swipe, the ice-shoe crunching eerily against the floor.

The trio of Felt, Rom, and jaguar-Subaru pressed their attack, circling, striking, trying to create an opening.

Above them, Puck’s fading voice echoed in Satella's ear.

“If anything goes wrong, I’ll act according to my contract. If you're really in danger… call me. Even if you have to squeeze me out of your Od…”

Then he vanished in a flicker of blue light.

Subaru flinched. That phrasing… It hit too close to his own memories—of fading voices, and things going horribly wrong.

Elsa grinned, teeth gleaming.

“You’re leaving so soon? How awful. Breaking my heart like that,” she said, glancing at the space where Puck had been. Her tone was mocking, but her eyes were alert—watching all three of them carefully now.

She wasn’t toying with them anymore.

She was hunting.


---

My name’s Felt.

I live in the slums.

And I hate it.

Every day’s a gamble—on who you’ll have to steal from, who might try to kill you, and whether you’ll wake up to the sound of your stomach growling or someone else trying to rob you first.

But I’m a damn good thief. No, the thief around these parts.

I thought today’d be different. A simple job. Get paid enough to finally get outta here—with Rom, too. No more rickety rooftops, no more moldy bread and muddy streets. Just gold, freedom, and maybe a warm bed somewhere that doesn’t stink of piss and smoke.

But instead?

I’m fighting some psycho knife-freak assassin, alongside a half-devil girl, and a demi-human in a weird tattered suit who growls like a big cat.

Great.

Just great.

How the hell did I end up here?

This wasn’t the plan.

Rom's swinging that giant mace like he’s trying to swat a damn dragon, but the killer just keeps dancing around it like it’s a joke. The girl—‘half-devil’ or whatever—throws ice like she’s winter itself, and the cat spirit was cool until he poofed out. The cat-boy transformed into a small cat mid-fight and tackles people like it’s a bar brawl.

And me? I’m just trying not to die.

Damn it.

I grip my dagger tighter, breathing hard. Elsa’s eyes flick over to me like she’s picking out what part she wants to carve first.

I swallow hard.

I really should’ve thought this shit through.

---

The witch-bitch—Elsa—shifted her gaze toward the half-elf again. Her eyes gleamed the moment that floating furball vanished. She could sense the weakness.

Felt’s instincts flared.

She’s going for her!

Before Elsa could close the gap, both Felt and the weird cat-boy—Jean,—slid between her and the half-elf.

<Don’t let her lay a finger on her.> His voice popped in her head like magic, maybe a divine protection of telepathy? <We have to move together. Sync up.>

What the hell—? This guy’s weirder than I thought…

Still, she nodded.

And they moved.

She kept her distance, jabbing low to draw attention. Jean flanked hard, his feline body lashing out with lightning-fast swipes. For a moment, it worked—they had her weaving on defense, pushing her back, away from the unconscious mage.

But something felt wrong.

Elsa wasn’t really trying. She wasn’t going all out. Her eyes didn’t even seem focused on them.

Felt’s gut twisted.

She stole a glance toward Rom.

The old man stood near the back, knuckles white around the handle of his mace, waiting. Watching. Holding out for a clean hit.

<Don’t stab her,> Subaru warned, circling. <She’s regenerating. Damage like that won’t stick.>

Fantastic, Felt thought bitterly. So we’re fighting some unkillable knife freak.

Then—shnk.

A wet sound snapped her attention back.

Elsa yanked the pen out of her own eye.

Felt gagged slightly.

With a casual flick, the woman threw it right at her.

“Shit!”

Felt ducked. The pen embedded itself in the wall behind her with a heavy thunk.

Okay, that definitely could’ve killed me—

Suddenly, Jean lunged, aiming his claws for Elsa’s throat.

She smirked.

In one smooth motion, she flipped upward, using his own head as a springboard. Her boots dug into his skull, forcing him down and vaulting her forward with terrifying grace.

Felt barely had time to yell a warning.

Too late.

The assassin slammed a boot into the half-elf’s gut, sending her flying like a ragdoll. She crashed into the shelves behind the bar, then collapsed to the floor, buried beneath splintered wood and broken furniture.

Felt froze.

“Dammit!”

“Hey! We’re not done yet!” Rom bellowed.

His mace crashed toward Elsa like a falling star.

She twisted, smirking.

“How boorish,” she said, dancing away. “Cutting in on someone else’s dance.”

Rom grunted, spinning his mace. “Then how ‘bout we dance, eh? ‘Round an’ round!”

The room exploded with the force of his swings. Bottles shattered. Beams cracked. Dust filled the air. Elsa dodged—barely—cornered now, nowhere to go.

Rom raised the mace, ready to flatten her.

His mistake.

“You’re so strong~” Elsa giggled. “But unfortunately for you…”

She crouched—balanced on top of the mace.

Rom blinked in disbelief.

“…I was able to do this.”

The knife flashed.

Felt reacted before she could think. Her arm moved on instinct, her dagger flying from her fingers with a flick.

It clanged off Elsa’s blade just enough to deflect it.

Instead of hitting Rom’s neck, it plunged into his shoulder.

“ARGH!” the old man roared, clutching the wound as blood poured down his arm. He slumped against the wall.

“Old man Rom!” Felt screamed.

“You bad girl…” Elsa cooed, stepping toward her. “No resolve. No strength. You should’ve stayed in your corner, like a good little rodent.”

Felt backed up, heart hammering. She couldn’t breathe.

Elsa moved.

And then—

Wham.

Jean's feline form smashed into her side with a brutal kick, knocking her back.

<Felt, was it?> Jean said in her head. <Sorry about all this. Even if you kinda started it by robbing my friend.>

Now he says this?!

<But I need a favor. A real one. Leave.>

“What?!” she shouted. “Leave? You want me to abandon Rom?! You can’t even handle her alone! You don’t even look intimidating!”

<Hey! I’m almost nineteen! I’m very intimidating!>

“You look like you’ve barely kissed anyone!”

<Why are we arguing about this right now?! Look—don’t run. Rush. Go outside. Find my friend. You’ll know him when you see him. Big guy, red hair, presence like a thunder god. Just say we need help.>

She paused.

Red hair… presence?

<Tell him it’s urgent. I’ll buy time. And—uh… sorry. My name’s Subaru. Not Jean.>

Felt narrowed her eyes. Then nodded.

“Alright. But don’t you die, cat-boy!”

She turned and bolted for the door.

Elsa, enraged, hurled a blade after her.

Subaru’s jaws snapped shut on the blade mid-flight.

The metal carved into his gums. Blood ran from his mouth.

But Felt was gone—slipping through the doorway and vanishing into the street.

---

A/N: Tell me what did you think of this chapter and the fight scene?

Hope i got Elsa over there in he psychotic glee.

Now it seems to be headed towards Jaguar-Subaru and Emilia vs Elsa.

But with Emilia out of commission Subaru is now alone.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: On the back foot.

You know…” Elsa murmured, stepping forward, voice colder than it had ever been, “I’m rather annoyed right now.”

Her eyes gleamed with something sharper than amusement now—something personal.

“It’s the first time a target has slipped out of my grasp. Ever.”

Her tone wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. A vow that someone—anyone—would pay for Felt’s escape. And Subaru was now at the center of that promise.

Subaru opened his jaws slowly and spat the bloodied knife onto the floor with a sharp clang. The metal skittered across the ground, glistening red.

He growled low.

<Well, there’s a first time for everything.>

His thought-speak was steady, his tone flat but charged. His jaguar body stood tall, coiled tight, muscles flexing under black-and-gold fur. His left canine was gone—he could taste iron where the tooth had snapped and the blade had cut deep into his gums.

And yet… he didn’t back down.

Not even a step.

Behind him, he heard rustling—rubble shifting. Satella stumbled out from the wreckage, dazed but conscious. Her eyes widened when she saw the stand-off: jaguar versus killer, and a still-bleeding Rom slumped against the wall.

<Hey,> Subaru called softly to her, not turning away from Elsa. <I know he was with Felt and all… but can you heal Rom over there?>

“What?” she blinked, then looked toward the collapsed giant. Her expression shifted. “Oh. Right—on it!”

But then she saw him—his bleeding mouth, the slashed tail, the scorched cuts and wounds across his flanks.

She hesitated.

<Don’t worry about me.> His thought-speak pushed into her mind, strong and resolute. <I’ve got her.>

His eyes flicked back to Elsa.

The murderer tilted her head, fingers dancing over her remaining blades.

“You’ll bleed out before you even touch me,” she said, smiling again. “Maybe I’ll finally get to see if a cat’s intestines are prettier than a human’s. I do wonder if the guts wriggle differently when they’re still warm.”

Her words were ice. Her smile was a scalpel.

Subaru didn’t flinch.

<I’m going to kill you,> he replied in thought-speak. Calm. Measured. Absolute.

Not a threat.

A statement of purpose.

He crouched lower, claws flexing against the cracked stone floor.

Humans hold back, he thought. Every punch. Every step. Every swing. Because if they didn’t… they’d tear their own bodies apart. Tendons would snap. Bones would shatter. Evolution built in a limiter so we wouldn’t destroy ourselves.

But this body?

This wasn’t a human body.

This was a jaguar—a predator built to not hold back. Muscle and instinct in perfect harmony. No limiter. No hesitation. Just raw power.

And right now, that power was bleeding and wounded.

But alive.

And angry.

There's nothing more dangerous than a cornered animal feeling the threat of death.

Elsa lunged—no hesitation, blades flashing like silver comets. She aimed low, going for his exposed underbelly. Subaru met her halfway with a roar that shook dust from the ceiling. Their bodies collided like wrecking balls.

She ducked and slashed. He twisted mid-leap. The knife scraped along his ribs, blood spurting—but he caught her sleeve in his jaws and yanked. Her balance broke.

He slammed her against the table.

But she spun, using the impact to bounce back and tried to slash his face again.

Subaru dropped low and swiped with his claws, sparks flying as steel met sharpened bone.

And through it all, even in the haze of pain and adrenaline, he felt it.

Excitement.

His instincts screamed in joy and fury.

He was in his element.

He was hunting.

And this time?

He wasn’t going to miss.

---

Her hands glowed with gentle light as she pressed them to Rom’s shoulder, careful not to aggravate the wound. The large man groaned beneath her touch, blood still running in sluggish rivulets down his arm.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice calm despite the chaos nearby. “Felt’s safe. Jean… he’s still fighting. We’re going to be fine.”

Rom groaned again, but the tension in his jaw eased slightly. Whether from her words or the magic working into his skin, she wasn’t sure. Her fingers trembled just a little.

She didn’t look away from his wound—because looking up meant watching that fight.

But she could hear it.

The clash of claws and knives. The grunt of effort. The grind of furniture being smashed apart. The shrill shriek of metal slicing air.

And Elsa’s voice.

“Ah~, I can’t remember the last time I was this excited! I really want to see your guts now~!”

<You really don’t know when to drop the act, do you?> Jean’s voice came through clearly in her head—calm but tight, laced with rising strain.

She finally looked up.

Jean—was beginning to lose ground. His feline body moved slower now. She could see it in his steps, the delay in his reaction. He was panting, blood trailing from fresh cuts and reopened wounds. Meanwhile, Elsa looked almost more energized than before. Her movements had sharpened, her attacks faster.

She’s getting stronger, Emilia realized, dread washing down her spine.

Jean ducked a slash just barely, but not fast enough.

<Ghk—!> he grunted. A line of blood splattered as Elsa’s blade nicked his forearm. He staggered, then bounded back, trying to reset his footing.

They circled. Then, suddenly—both lunged at the same time.

Elsa flung a set of knives. Jean grabbed a chair with his jaguar-jaws and spun his body, letting the knives thunk uselessly into the wood. He hurled it at her like a missile. The assassin blocked, but it knocked her balance.

He lunged again, claws slicing across her chest.

It made her stumble—but she didn’t stop.

And Jean?

He was swaying now.

“Jean's … getting tired,” Emilia whispered, even as she finished sealing Rom’s wound. “I don’t know if he can keep it up.”

But still—still she trusted him. He wasn’t giving up.

And that was what made watching it worse.

Then—

“I’ve lost my patience here…” Elsa said, voice dropping to something utterly joyless. “Show me your guts already!”

She bent her knees.

And prepared to strike.

Emilia's breath caught—

BOOM.

The ceiling shattered like glass.

A figure dropped down from above, bathed in the burning light of the setting sun. Hair red as fire, coat flaring like wings, boots striking the floor with a thud that seemed to halt the world.

“Elsa Granhiert, I presume?” said Reinhard van Astrea.

<Reinhard!> Jean gasped, half-feline, half-blood.

“The Sword Saint,” Elsa echoed, blinking in disbelief.

Emilia felt something shift in the air. The pressure. The mana. Everything.

To her surprise, Elsa laughed, delighted. “Ah~! To think I’d have the chance to claim your guts too tonight.”

“Jean,” Reinhard said, calmly. “You did well. Holding out against her.”

<Well… Someone’s gotta keep the neighborhood safe,> Jean muttered, tail twitching awkwardly.

“Neighborhood?”

<Forget I said that. Just a reference.>

Reinhard offered a soft smile, then turned his gaze back to Elsa. “Surrender now and I promise your cell will come with a bed. Refuse… and I will be forced to use strength.”

He reached down and lifted a sword from the floor. It wasn’t his own—not his personal blade—but as he raised it, wind curled around the steel, glowing faintly.

“Sorry,” Elsa said, her voice now sharp and focused. “I don’t pass up golden opportunities like this.”

“Jean!” Emilia called. “Rom is stable. I finished healing him—but he’s passed out.”

<Good!> Jean shouted back, lowering into a stance. <That means I don’t have to hold back anymore.>

Reinhard nodded once at Subaru and then returned his focus to the assassin.

The air stilled.

Elsa crouched low.

Mana surged. The hairs on Emilia’s arms stood up.

“It’s the second time today I’ve had to introduce myself,” Elsa giggled. “Elsa Granhiert. The Bowel Hunter.”

“Reinhard van Astrea,” he replied. “Sword Saint.”

He raised the sword—now glowing with unnatural light.

Wind whipped the room. Dust curled upward. The entire building tensed around them.

Elsa surged forward.

Reinhard moved only once.

SWING.

The sword came down in a single, silent motion.

A blast of light ripped forward, consuming half the Loot House in one stroke. The force of the slash vaporized wood, stone, and steel in its path. For one blinding moment, the world itself ceased.

When the glow faded, nothing remained of the entire left side of the room.

No Elsa.

Only rubble.

Only silence.

And standing at the epicenter, Reinhard, holding the now-disintegrating blade.

Emilia stared, stunned.

And beside her—Jean staggered forward. His feline body shuddered once.

Then it began to shift.

The change started from his limbs—fur pulling back into skin, paws twisting into hands. Muscles shrank and bones contorted silently. His spine straightened. Tail receded. Black spots dissolved into pale flesh.

Slight blood still stained his mouth. His hair was soaked in sweat.

His eyes, though tired, were human again.

His expression?

A mix of exhaustion… and relief.

He stood, panting, in the ruins of the Loot House.

“…Well,” Jean muttered hoarsely, wobbling a little. “That… sucked.”

---

“I mean—cough, cough—I could’ve done that too,” Subaru wheezed, still winded from the fight. He tried to suppress the tremble in his limbs as he straightened up, brushing dust off his tattered-streaked jacket with exaggerated nonchalance. “But you weren’t half-bad, Rein.”

“…Rein?” Reinhard blinked, caught off guard.

Subaru offered a lazy grin and a thumbs-up, though it wavered a little. “Yeah, I mean, I can call you Rein, right? Just between friends?”

He shrugged, like it was no big deal.

“I mean, you did just save my life, so… free friendship. Whaddaya say?”

Reinhard stared at him—this wild, disheveled, bloodied young man who stood where others might’ve cowered. No fear. No reverence. No judgment. Just… familiarity.

He wasn’t being treated like a Sword Saint.

He was being treated like a person.

That warmth spread through Reinhard’s chest—a strange, pleasant feeling he hadn’t realized he’d been starved for.

“Yes,” he said softly. “It’s… not a problem, Jean.”

Subaru’s grin widened. “Awesome. Team Rein & Jean, just like a buddy cop movie.”

Reinhard chuckled, a little lost but amused nonetheless.

Then a familiar voice piped up from the doorway.

“So, uh, can I come in now?” Felt poked her head into the wrecked building, brushing soot from her sleeves. Her expression crumpled when she spotted the collapsed form behind them. “Old man Rom!”

Subaru turned to her, pointing without much energy. “He’s alive. ‘Satella’ patched him up. But you—you owe me something.”

Felt blinked. “What?”

“My wallet, thank you very much.”

Before she could answer, the half-elf stepped forward as well.

“He’s fine,” Emilia added quickly, calming Felt’s panic. “I already treated his wound, but—” she turned to the girl, her expression gentle but firm “—please. My insignia.”

''Wallet first. Though."

Felt’s hand hesitated by her pocket.

And then—

“LOOK OUT!!” Reinhard’s voice snapped like a thunderclap.

Everyone turned.

Too late.

A blur surged from the rubble—blood-soaked and smiling.

Elsa.

Her cloak whipped like a shadow behind her, knives already drawn as she darted straight for Emilia, her killing intent burning bright.

Reinhard’s foot slid back, ready to move—but even with his speed, he was too far.

But Subaru?

Subaru moved first.

Before anyone could shout, he launched himself between Emilia and the assassin, throwing his arms out wide and planting himself in her path.

Time seemed to slow—

And Elsa’s blade came down.


---


The blade was inches away—its edge catching the light like a whisper of death.

Subaru didn’t think. He morphed.

His mouth stretched, skin and bone reshaping with a wet snap. Lips peeled back, jaws widened and distorted, muscle rethreaded itself until—

He howled.

A shriek ripped from his throat—not human, not even animal. The primal, brain-splitting howl of a howler, amplified and reverberating like an explosion in a canyon. It tore through the air like a sonic blade.

Elsa’s advance stopped dead.

She reeled back, one hand instinctively rising to her ear as blood trickled from her nose.

Subaru’s fist followed. A clean, raw punch straight to her jaw.

It connected.

Elsa’s body spun midair from the impact, crashing into a broken beam. She hung there for a heartbeat—dazed, trembling—and then, unbelievably, she smiled.

Bleeding. Battered. Breathing hard.

She still smiled.

“Soon enough,” she rasped, her voice like silk over shattered glass, “I’ll disembowel everyone here. But until then…” She steadied herself, blades still in her hands, crouching like a feral animal.

“Take good care of your bowels.”

With that, she leapt, vanishing into the night like a shadow peeled from the ground.

Only silence remained.

Subaru spat blood and demorphed his mouth, flesh twitching as it reformed. It snapped back to human shape with a faint squelch.

He coughed. “Ugh… I hate using that morph.”

Footsteps rushed toward him.

“Are you alright?!” ‘Satella’—Emilia—called, her face tight with worry.

Subaru turned, brushing soot from his jacket. “Oh, don’t sweat it. Just another day on the job. Though…” he straightened, tilting his chin up dramatically, “did you know… I just saved your life from a criminal?”

“What? Oh—yes, you did,” Emilia blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone.

“I, your noble rescuer,” he continued, putting a hand to his chest and pointing skyward with the other, “have earned a reward, don’t you think?”

Her smile vanished. She frowned, her gaze narrowing, disappointment settling in.

Was… was this why he followed her? Helped her? Just for a reward?

“…If it’s within my power,” she said quietly, her voice cool, “then I’ll reward you.”

Subaru hesitated for a moment, then smirked, the expression soft but teasing.

“In that case, I have but one request.” He raised a finger, posing dramatically. “My request is…”

He paused, lowered the finger to shoulder level, then snapped it.

“…Tell me your real name.”

Emilia’s breath caught.

She stared at him for a long moment—then laughed softly. She wasn’t angry anymore.

Of course he knew. Of course he saw through her lie. But he never pushed, never questioned her about it, never used it against her.

He just… waited.

“My name,” she said, smiling, “is Emilia.”

Subaru’s smile widened. “Nice to finally meet you, Emilia.”

He offered a handshake.

''Jean Paul Valley also known as Natsuki Subaru"

They shook hands.

---

Felt huffed and tossed something through the air.

His wallet.

Subaru caught it without even looking, snapping it out of the air with one hand. “Thanks,” he said casually, tucking it into his jacket like nothing had happened—like he hadn’t just almost been gutted by a knife-wielding psychopath.

“Anyway,” he started, dusting his hands off theatrically, “I believe that settles our little business transaction. One rescued elf, one returned wallet, and one existential trauma, all nicely wrapped.”

“Subaru,” Reinhard’s voice cut in, gentle but firm, “I’m glad you’re… okay.”

Subaru glanced at him, raising a brow. “So you knew I was lying? About the name?”

“Pretty much,” Reinhard said with a faint smile.

“Hah. Figures.” Subaru smirked and gave a tired shrug. “Well, you can keep calling me Jean if it helps your noble sensibilities sleep at night—but I do appreciate ‘Subaru.’ Got a good car deal thanks to it once.”

Reinhard chuckled lightly. “All right… Subaru, then. But I simply must ask—what exactly is going on with your clothes? Or your abilities? I didn’t detect any mana from them.”

“Oh, well, that’s a long sto—”

Subaru stopped. His mouth didn’t finish the word.

His body swayed, suddenly heavy. The weight of the morphs, the fights, the wounds—everything hit him like a crashing wave.

“Uh… y’know what…” He blinked slowly. “Maybe we can talk about it… later…”

His knees buckled.

And then the world tilted sideways as he collapsed, completely unconscious.

---

A/N: Tell me what d8d you like about this chapter?

I originally wanted Subaru to lose one his front paws. And Emilia coming to help him.

And then Subaru demorph and turn polar bear.

And now that arc1 is nearly over im going to make a prequel series with the og Animorphs books.

https://ao3-rd-8.onrender.com/works/65745214/chapters/169314406

Chapter 1 is out by now.

I do warn some of my Animorphs. That the fic will be heavily inspired by Parting the clouds by Derin. (Go read it if you want)


I suggest you come to read it i will soon post it.

<Good!> Jean shouted back, lowering into a stance. <That means I don’t have to hold back anymore.>

Oh we now lying. If that fight would've continued Subaru would've ended up looking like his canon self.

My first draft for the fight between elsa would've had Subaru morph wolf get injured demorph, morph jaguar catch a blade, between the back or save Emilia from getting stabbed. Morph polar and the rest goes as planned, from the chapters i've shown you.

I changed it because i thought about it, while cool it wouldn't make sense for both Animorphs and re zero. Subaru would've gotten speed blitz and killed. Like him loosing his eye. Without puck in this situation Emilia is less effectif.

Well that's all

If you have any questions i would be happy to answer.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10 : One man treasure is another one's...

Tch. She really hadn’t meant to feel this bad about it.

After tossing the guy’s stupid wallet back at him—mostly to stop feeling like she owed him something—Felt crossed her arms and scowled. “There. That makes us even.”

He caught it without even looking. Show-off.

“Oh, well, it’s a long sto—” Subaru’s voice cut off. He swayed. “Umm… you know… why don’t we talk about it… some other time.”

And then—he collapsed.

Felt’s eyes widened. She darted forward, ready to grab him—but the Sword Saint beat her to it. In a blur, Reinhard caught the guy before his head hit the ground, laying him down carefully.

Felt knelt beside him as Emilia did the same, both of them suddenly panicked.

“Subaru?! Hey, wake up, Subaru?” she called out, shaking his shoulder. “Don’t go dying on me after all that, you jerk!”

Emilia hovered nearby, her hand already glowing faintly with healing light as if by instinct. “Is he… alright?”

“He’s just tired,” Reinhard replied, calm and observant as always. “He’s been running, fighting—defending you, defending Felt… Honestly, I’m surprised he lasted this long. The fatigue simply caught up to him.”

“Oh… I see.” Emilia lowered her hand, her expression shifting. Guilt bloomed in her violet eyes. “I kept pushing him around. I didn’t realize…”

Felt looked at her sideways. The half-elf wasn’t faking it. She genuinely looked upset.

“If I may,” Reinhard said gently, still cradling Subaru’s upper body. “Emilia-sama, what is your relationship with this young man?”

“We met today,” she replied softly. “We’re just… acquaintances.”

Reinhard considered that for a moment. “Then what shall we do with him? After his efforts today, I’d be more than honored to offer him shelter under my roof.”

The half-elf looked startled by that. “He’s not… financially stable. He doesn’t even seem to have a place to stay. He’s new here.”

Reinhard nodded. “Then perhaps more reason to ensure he’s cared for properly.”

He was already moving to lift Subaru when Emilia stepped forward suddenly.

“No,” she said, her voice clear and decisive. “I’ll take him home with me.”

Felt raised an eyebrow.

Reinhard blinked. “O-oh. Understood.” His voice was polite, but there was something behind it—surprise… and maybe a little disappointment.

Emilia turned toward Felt and Rom, who was still unconscious and leaning against a wall.

“Reinhard,” she said carefully, “I assume she told you everything. About the insignia… What’s going to happen to them?”

Reinhard stood slowly. “Officially, I can’t overlook what they’ve done. Theft of a royal candidate’s emblem is… serious. However…” he shrugged slightly, his usual poise softening, “I’m off duty today.”

Felt squinted at him. “You’re a bad knight.”

The half-elf giggled. “He is, isn’t he?”

Then she turned to Felt. “So… Is he part of your family?” she asked, glancing at the unconscious Rom.

Felt looked away, her tone more subdued than usual. “Something like that. He’s all I have. Kind of like a grandpa.”

“I see.” Emilia smiled gently. “I only have one family member, too. He’s usually not around when I need him, though.”

“Huh. I thought you’d be a lot meaner, half-elf,” Felt admitted. “But you’re… kinda alright.”

There was a pause.

Then Felt fished into her pocket and pulled out the pouch.

“Here,” she muttered, holding it out. “Sorry for stealing it. Just… keep a better grip on it next time, alright?”

“It’s strange,” Emilia said as she took it, “getting lectured by the person who stole it.”

But then something strange happened.

Reinhard’s eyes widened. He took a sharp step forward, staring at the insignia now resting in Emilia’s hand.

The pouch shimmered faintly. Light pulsed from within.

He stepped forward, gently taking Felt by the wrist before she could back away.

“Hey—ow! That hurts! Let go!” she snapped.

“Reinhard?” Emilia asked, alarmed.

He didn’t look away. “This light… it can’t be…”

He looked at Felt with intense focus. “What’s your name?”

“Felt. What’s it to you?”

“Your family name?”

“I don’t have one!”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen? Maybe? I don’t know! I don’t celebrate birthdays!”

Reinhard’s grip didn’t tighten—but his expression turned solemn.

“Emilia-sama,” he said quietly, “I’m afraid I can’t keep my promise. I must take this girl with me.”

“What? Because she stole from me?”

“No. That, at this point, is irrelevant.” Reinhard turned to Felt. “The insignia reacted. That alone makes this far greater than petty theft.”

He looked deeply apologetic. “I’m sorry… but you need to come with me. I cannot allow refusal.”

“Get bent!” Felt snapped, struggling. “Just because you saved me—!”

And in an instant, her legs gave out.

Felt’s eyes rolled back, her energy drained, and she slumped unconscious in his arms.

He had taken her mana.


---

Emilia POV

“That wasn’t very courtly,” she said, her voice stiff with disapproval.

“…Forgive me,” Reinhard replied. “But it was necessary.”

He carefully adjusted Felt in his arms and then turned, holding out the insignia to her.

Emilia accepted it silently.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said. “There are… things I must discuss with you, and with her. I hope you understand.”

Emilia nodded, still shaken.

As he turned to leave, he paused at the door. The wind stirred the ruins of the Loot House behind him.

Then he looked up, eyes reflecting the full moon.

“Tonight,” he said, voice quiet and heavy, “might be the last time we get to gaze at the moon in peace.”

And with that, the Sword Saint walked into the night, Felt in his arms, the moonlight stretching their shadows far across the shattered ground.

Within the shattered remains of the Loot House, Emilia stood still, watching Reinhard vanish into the night with the unconscious Felt in his arms. The moonlight shimmered across the ruins, catching on splintered beams and broken glass.

She turned, preparing to lift Subaru again, when a sharp voice called out behind her.

“Emilia-sama!”

Emilia turned quickly, her eyes lighting up. “Ram!”

The pink-haired maid approached, heels tapping crisply against the ruined stone, her usual deadpan expression in place—but Emilia could see the edge of concern in her eyes.

“Emilia-sama, I’ve been searching all over the Capital for you. I asked around the market and was told you’d gone after a thief? Why are you here, of all places? Did you catch them? And… wait—is that ugly tattered boy the thief?” she added, eyeing the unconscious boy sprawled at Emilia’s feet.

Before Emilia could respond, a robotic voice chimed from the metal casing on Subaru’s wrist.

“It would be greatly appreciated if you could keep your unnecessary comments to yourself.”

''Wait it can speak?" Emilia thought suprised. 

Ram blinked.

Emilia sighed, stepping between them. “I’ll explain everything on the way back. Just know this—this boy saved my life tonight. He has nowhere to stay, and… I’ve decided to take him with us to the mansion.”

Ram raised a finely shaped brow but bowed her head slightly. “Understood, Emilia-sama. I’ll retrieve the carriage.”

Emilia nodded and turned her attention back to Subaru, kneeling beside him. He looked peaceful despite the dust and blood. Her fingers brushed a strand of hair from his face.

If he has no home… maybe he can find one in Arlam. Even if it’s just for a while.

Ram returned minutes later with the carriage. Without complaint, she helped Emilia lift Subaru in, and soon the trio was on the road to the Mathers Domain.


---

The journey was quiet.

Ram sat at the driver’s seat, reins in hand, while Emilia rode in the cabin opposite the unconscious boy. She found herself staring at him—at the strange suit, the unfamiliar fabrics, and that odd device on his wrist.

After some time, Ram broke the silence. “If I may, Emilia-sama… where did you find this man?”

Emilia smiled, a little embarrassed. “In an alley, actually. I was chasing the thief who took my insignia. He was... in the middle of beating up some robbers.”

“…You allowed your insignia to be stolen?” Ram’s voice tightened.

“Yes, yes, I know—I was a dunderhead,” Emilia admitted, cheeks flushing. “But Subaru helped me find the thief. I got it back thanks to him.”

She pulled the insignia from her pouch and held it up with a small smile, as if the memory had softened the whole ordeal.

Ram didn’t respond for a moment. She studied the item briefly, then looked away. It wouldn’t do for Roswaal-sama’s ambitions to be endangered by something so foolish…

“What became of the thief? Was it the large man slumped against the wall?”

“No, that was her… guardian, I guess? The actual thief was a girl. Blonde, maybe fifteen. Her name was Felt. When we found her, she still had my insignia—and we were arguing over it when an assassin attacked.”

Ram’s hand tightened subtly on the reins.

“Subaru fought the assassin until Reinhard arrived. He stalled her—or so we thought—but she survived and tried to strike me. Subaru shielded me… and passed out after she ran.”

“…I see.”

Suspicious. Ram thought. How did he track the thief so easily? Why target Emilia-sama’s insignia to begin with? It could be a ploy to gain trust. Or worse—an infiltration attempt by another faction before the Royal Selection.

Emilia leaned back, her gaze softening again. “Subaru is… strange, in a lot of ways.”

“In what way?” Ram asked, her tone neutral but attentive.

“Well, for starters… he’s not a knight. Or a mercenary. He called himself an ‘Animorph.’”

Ram’s brow twitched. “A what?”

“I don’t know either,” Emilia admitted. “But he seemed serious about it. He also gave a little girl at the market a coin… but the coin didn’t look like any Lugunican currency I’ve seen.”

“Odd,” Ram said flatly.

“And there’s this thing.” Emilia leaned forward slightly, glancing at the device on his wrist. “It’s a metia, I think. He used it to display an image—a drawing, like a miniature illusion. It wasn’t magic, at least not as I know it.”

“A metia…” Ram narrowed her eyes. “From what region?”

“He never said.” Emilia brushed her fingers together. “Honestly, he talks like someone from a completely different world. He even joked about being named after a car, whatever that is.”

Ram said nothing more, but the gears in her mind turned. Every new detail made the boy more unpredictable.

But her mistress had made a decision.

---

A few minutes passed in silence, the soft rocking of the carriage almost lulling Emilia into a daze.

Then, unprompted, she spoke again.

“He’s really strong too, you know. We had to travel to the slums through the rooftops just to make it in time—and he mostly kept up with me.” Her voice carried a note of wonder, as if even now she still wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed it. “And when we fought the assassin… he held her back alone. Cornered her, even. That was before Reinhard arrived and ended the fight.”

Ram, seated at the front, narrowed her eyes.

So not only unusual, but physically capable. He kept up with Emilia-sama and even managed to push back a professional killer?

That kind of power… without mana? Without known training? Dangerous.

She kept her tone flat, but her mind raced. If he truly has no background, no noble lineage, and yet holds such strength... I must consult Roswaal-sama. Even if I have to do it behind her back.

Inside the cabin, Emilia finally leaned back, her eyelids heavy.

The adrenaline was wearing off, and the weight of the entire day began to crash down on her—emotionally, mentally, physically.

“I think I’ll rest a bit,” she said softly, more to herself than anyone else.

Ram didn’t reply. She merely adjusted the reins as the path curved.

The night wore on.

The sky gradually lightened from black to blue. The stars dimmed. A pale line of gold began to stretch along the eastern horizon.

And finally, just as the first rays of dawn kissed the tips of the distant hills, the carriage passed through the outer gates of the Mathers Domain.

They had arrived home—just hours before the sun would rise fully.

And inside the cabin, slumped against the cushioned seat, Natsuki Subaru slept soundly, unaware of the strange new world—and all the eyes—he’d landed himself in.


A/N: Emilia is really out there being a hype-woman.

The decks are set arc 2 is near.

Okay now one chapter and arc 1 is over.

I wanted to ask what IF route would this Subaru go? (I meant arc 1).

Like give me ideas.

Chapter Text

Scene: On-set break room of Animorphs.

It’s a lived-in chaos: half-eaten energy bars, open scripts, the faint smell of stage fog, and a bear-sized foam claw leaned against the wall like someone’s forgotten cosplay prop. A small TV on mute plays B-roll from earlier filming—Ax doing somersaults in full blue prosthetics. The cast sits in various states of disarray, half-costumed, half-fed, and fully committed to the dumbest, most heated debate of the week.

Marco (grinning, arms wide like a game show host):

Okay, okay, let’s settle this once and for all. Man versus bear—who wins?

Subaru (pointing to himself, puffing up):

Man, obviously. We’ve got strategy, tools, anime protagonist energy—destiny.

Jake (cutting in, deadpan):

Hold up. That “man” got killed by a cursed rabbit. Not sure you’re the authority here.

Subaru (offended but unable to deny):

That rabbit is not natural. It’s a war crime in fluff form. It breaks physics. I’m not weak—I’m narratively targeted!

Cassie (smiling warmly, flipping through a wildlife magazine):

Subaru, it’s not about tools or plot armor. It’s about respecting nature’s power. Bears are apex predators. They don’t need magic—they are magic.

Marco:

Speaking of apex predators...

(Everyone slowly turns to Rachel, who’s lounging in a chair, sipping from a sports drink like none of this concerns her.)

Rachel:

What?

Jake (pointing at her like it’s obvious):

You’re literally the bear in this argument. You morph into one and fight aliens with it. Kinda makes you the final boss here.

Subaru (mock-scandalized):

Wait—she's the bear? You’re the bear?! I’ve been arguing against you this whole time?

Rachel (smirking):

You really wanna test me, Subaru?

Subaru (hands raised in surrender):

Nope. I value my limbs and internal organs. This debate is invalid. Glory to the Bear Queen.

Marco (grinning):

Smart move. She once tore through a Hork-Bajir ambush like a can opener through pudding.

Cassie:

And then calmly helped a lost raccoon afterward. Like, gently carried it back to the forest.

Rachel (shrugging):

Balance, boys. Rage and responsibility. Like a bear with a therapist.

(There’s a brief pause. Everyone stares into the existential void for a moment.)

Subaru (softly):

Do you think... the bear is the therapist?

Marco:

Only if the therapist charges in salmon and accepts payment in raw fear.

Jake (nodding):

Alright, let’s just agree: man vs bear? If it’s Rachel, man loses. Horribly.

(Laughter ripples through the group, but Marco isn’t done.)

Marco (leaning in conspiratorially):

Okay but listen—Tobias would absolutely win in a bear fight. Hawk vision, aerial superiority, precision strikes. Like a feathery fighter jet.

Subaru (choking on his water):

You’re telling me... a hawk beats a bear? A bear? You think a sky chicken wins against a death machine in fur pants?

Jake (leaning back):

This again? Tobias has agility, sure, but no weight class. It’s not a fair fight.

Subaru:

Exactly! Hawks don’t fight bears. Hawks avoid bears. Realistically, the hawk's best weapon is flying away very, very fast.

Cassie (still reading):

Actually, hawks are territorial and pretty aggressive. But yeah—weight class matters. A bear would win in direct combat.

Marco:

What about if Tobias flies into its eyes?

Subaru (exasperated):

This isn’t Dungeons & Dragons, Marco. The bear doesn’t roll a Dexterity check before swatting.

Rachel:

He’d do a dramatic dive, screech something poetic midair, and then get pawed into the ground like a lawn dart.

Jake:

Still—respect for the boldness.

Subaru (leaning back, arms crossed):

You guys get morphing powers and cool alien wars. I get Return by Death and a demon bunny that eats people. I think I’ve earned the right to be terrified of bears.

Marco:

You’d morph into a bear just to prove a point, admit it.

Subaru (deadpan):

...Yeah. And I’d die immediately afterward, and then come back just to keep arguing with the bear. Classic me.

Cassie (mild):

That’s... deeply on-brand.

(The door creaks open. Tobias and Ax step in—Tobias with a granola bar, Ax holding an unidentifiable alien snack tube that hisses slightly when opened.)

Tobias (eyeing them warily):

Okay, why do I hear “sky chicken” and “death machine” in the same sentence?

Ax (perking up):

Is this another one of your hypothetical violence rituals?

Subaru (gesturing dramatically):

We’re debating man versus bear. Who wins. It’s science.

Ax (without hesitation):

Bear.

Tobias (slouching into a chair):

Gotta agree. Unless the man is made of titanium and bad decisions, the bear wins. It’s a walking boulder with teeth.

Marco:

Okay but—100 men versus one bear?

Subaru (perking up):

Now that’s a debate.

Rachel (disapproving):

That’s a bloodbath.

Jake:

Depends. Are these 100 dudes organized? Coordinated?

Cassie:

If they’re Reddit guys, no. If they’re villagers from Re:Zero... maybe.

Subaru:

Hey, I’ve trained some of those villagers! They’re scrappy!

Ax (chewing on something that smells like burnt cinnamon):

One hundred humans would produce considerable chaos. A bear could exploit that.

Marco:

But what if they rush it? All at once? Like a human tidal wave?

Tobias:

That’s not a strategy. That’s a buffet line.

Subaru:

I refuse to believe we lose to one bear. Humanity built pyramids!

Rachel:

Yeah, but not while a grizzly was charging at them.

Marco:

You underestimate peer pressure. One guy yells “WE GOT THIS!” and the rest follow. Like lemmings. With podcasts.

Subaru:

Stop trying me to remind me of Disney Marco!

Cassie:

But the bear still has claws. You can't out-hype claws.

Subaru:

I’d still bet on humanity. 100 people with a mission? That’s unstoppable!

Ax (licking his fingers, curious):

What if the bear was also intelligent?

Rachel:

Then we’re really doomed. A tactical bear? That’s a Netflix series waiting to happen.

Jake:

I’d watch that.

Tobias:

I’d morph that.

Marco:

Title: Claws of War: The Bear Awakens.

Subaru (serious):

You joke, but I’d absolutely voice the anime version.

Rachel (grinning):

You’re not the bear. You’re the guy who dies 10 minutes in because he underestimated the bear.

Subaru (nodding solemnly):

That... tracks.

(The group falls into easy laughter. Someone tosses a granola wrapper into the trash. It misses. No one corrects it.)

Marco:

So, to summarize: bear wins against one guy. Maybe loses against 100 idiots with a plan. Tobias can’t win unless he blinds it. Subaru dies either way.

Subaru:

But I come back! Stronger. Funnier. Maybe with bear armor.

Ax (enthusiastically):

You could morph into a bear. A reincarnating bear with emotional trauma.

Rachel:

Now that’s a protagonist.

Cassie:

I’m glad we had this talk. It says so much about all of us.

Jake:

It really does.

Tobias:

Also, for the record? Hawks > bears. Maybe not in a fight, but in soul.

Subaru:

Bold. Delusional. I respect it.

---

A/N: The next chapter will be uploaded in a few days. And then arc 1 will be over.

On the other hand, i wanted a break off chapter.

Anyway, what did you think?

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: Wake-Up Call

“Subaru!”

“SUBARU!”

“WAKE. UP!”

CRASH.

The mattress jolted like it was under siege, and Subaru tumbled to the floor with a thud that rattled his spine and pride in equal measure. Sheets twisted around his legs, and he lay there groaning, half-cocooned, fully disoriented.

<Well, that’s one way to start a morning.> came a dry, familiar thought in his head.

“Oran…” Subaru croaked, blinking rapidly as the world came into focus.

A black-haired kid knelt beside the bed, his face far too alert for this ungodly hour. Brown eyes wide. Slightly annoyed. Nathan. Thirteen. Smart. Loyal. Yeerk-host.

“You good?” Nathan asked, half-concerned, half-impatient. “Illim needs us. Like, now.”

Subaru squinted. “Illim? Mr. Tidwell?”

Nathan nodded urgently. “Yeah. Visser One is making moves. The Peace Movement’s in chaos trying to piece together what he’s planning.”

<Visser One…> Oran said, tension tightening in Subaru’s chest. <We can’t ignore this. If Illim’s asking for us personally, it must be serious.>

Subaru nodded slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“C’mon,” Nathan said, already heading toward the door. “Let’s go. Essak’s already freaking out.”

As if in response, Nathan twitched slightly—then straightened. His posture shifted. Stiffened.

“Hello, Subaru,” a smoother, more formal tone replaced Nathan’s voice. “It is good to see you again.”

“Essak,” Subaru muttered, nodding in recognition. “Still babysitting?”

“Until he’s old enough to not jump on beds like a lunatic,” Essak said with dry Yeerk amusement.

<Enough small talk,> Oran said, <I’m taking control. We’re moving.>

And just like that, the weight of fatigue lifted. Subaru’s limbs moved with Oran’s smooth efficiency—rolling his shoulders, adjusting his stance, scanning with heightened focus. The sluggishness of waking faded in seconds.

Body and mind in sync.

As they stepped into the metallic hallway of the underground Yeerk facility, the silence of early morning gave way to the buzz of tension.

Subaru walked beside Nathan, boots echoing against steel.

“I still think Visser One’s goal is simple chaos,” Subaru muttered. “Confusion leads to distraction. Distraction leads to mistakes.”

<That’s shortsighted,> Oran argued from within. <Visser One doesn’t move without purpose. Every play is part of a larger game. We just don’t know the board yet.>

“I’m telling you, it’s disruption,” Subaru insisted aloud. “Get the Peace Movement paranoid. Get Illim chasing shadows.”

<And if you’re wrong?>

Subaru’s jaw clenched. “Then we’ll deal with it.” He thought.

Nathan side-eyed him. “You’re both insufferable when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“That duo-argument-through-one-body thing. It's weird.”

“Get used to it,” Subaru muttered as they turned a corner. “This is what having two brains and one body looks like.”

They continued through the corridor, red lights flashing above warning signs. The Yeerk Pool was quiet—for now—but the tension was electric. Something was coming. Something big.

And Subaru knew, deep down, that everything that had just happened in Lugunica was only the beginning.


The metallic hum of the hallway dulled behind them as they reached a thick, reinforced door. The scent of sterilized steel and recycled air hung heavy—neutral, oppressive, and faintly chemical. Security cameras blinked silently above.

Nathan stopped short.

“I shouldn’t be here when the meeting starts,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Even if no one’s watching us right now, too many appearances together might raise flags.”

Subaru nodded. “Right. Lay low.”

Nathan gave him a quick nod, then glanced toward the door. “Good luck in there. I’ll wait for the signal.”

And with that, he turned and walked off, trying to look like a kid aimlessly wandering the halls of the underground Yeerk facility.

<Essak will keep him safe,> Oran said. <Focus.>

The door hissed open with a pneumatic sigh.

Inside, the room was sparse. No windows. One desk. One flickering light overhead. Mr. Tidwell sat behind the desk, arms folded neatly, glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose. His brown tweed jacket made him look like an English teacher, not a host for one of the most critical minds in the Yeerk Peace Movement.

But the eyes—calm, calculating, alert—told the real story.

“Illim,” Oran said aloud, using Subaru’s voice, formal and steady.

“Oran-Seven-Eight-Nine,” Mr. Tidwell replied with equal restraint. “And… Natsuki Subaru.”

He nodded once.

Subaru dipped his head slightly. “Mr. Tidwell.”

It was the kind of greeting you'd expect between coworkers in a dangerous job. Nothing familiar. Nothing casual. Just enough deference to sound like a subordinate, and enough distance to not raise alarms.

Tidwell gestured subtly to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

Subaru obeyed, the seat creaking under him as Oran kept him perfectly still.

“We have a problem,” Tidwell said, fingers steepling. “Visser One has changed patterns. And not in ways that match his usual psychological profile.”

“He’s shifting tactics?” Subaru asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Yes. Too many minor operations have gone silent. Too many minor players disappearing.” He leaned in slightly, voice lowering. “And we believe... he’s aware of the Peace Movement again.”

Oran bristled at that.

<We worked hard to keep his attention elsewhere.>

“I know,” Tidwell said. “But something’s changed. Something… off-script. Unpredictable. And we believe it has something to do with a new variable.”

Subaru’s brow furrowed. “A new weapon?”

Tidwell hesitated.

“No. A world.”

The room fell silent.

Subaru blinked. “…What?”

Tidwell looked at him with clinical intensity. “We’ve intercepted fragments of communication from a deep project—beyond what even most Sub-Visser-class Yeerks are cleared to access. There are mentions of an incursion. A… dimensional anomaly.”

Subaru’s pulse jumped.

“They’re trying to reach another world?” he asked, trying not to sound too invested.

Tidwell shook his head. “No. We think Visser One already has. Or is in contact with someone—or something—from one.”

Subaru sat still, mind racing. Is he already trying to breach through?

Tidwell continued, “I don’t know what it means yet. But we need to find out. And if this anomaly connects to your… recent experiences, then we don’t have time to be cautious anymore.”

Subaru said nothing.

But inside, Oran stirred.

<He might already be reaching through. That assassin. The girl with the red eyes…>

Subaru’s jaw tensed.

“Then we better get ahead of him,” Subaru said. “Because if he gets to that world first…”

“He won’t stop at it,” Tidwell finished. “He never does.”


"We should tell the others," Subaru said quietly, eyes locked on the dull chrome wall of the Yeerk facility room. "If Visser One is poking around other worlds, the Animorphs have to know. Jake, Rachel—Tobias. All of them."

Tidwell's expression stayed still, but something in his eyes flickered. Not fear—calculation.

“Too risky,” he said calmly. “If Visser One even suspects the Peace Movement is in contact with the Bandits again, he’ll shift priorities. He already suspects the Andalite Bandits might not be centaur-shaped.”

Subaru’s blood ran cold.

“…So he thinks they’re human.”

Mr. Tidwell nodded once. “Or at least primate. And you morphing? Right now? It might tip him further. The risk is too high.”

Subaru clenched his teeth, cursing under his breath as he turned away.

<He’s right,> Oran 789 whispered inside his head. <He’s too close. The wrong move and we’re finished.>

Subaru turned toward the far wall, muttering, “So what the hell are we supposed to do? Wait for him to breach another world before we act? That’s not a plan. That’s surrender.”

He heard a soft thump behind him.

He froze.

The sound hadn’t come from the door. It hadn’t come from the wall. It was too heavy to be a book. Too deliberate to be a dropped tool.

He turned back slowly.

Mr. Tidwell’s head was on the table.

Neatly severed.

Still wearing its neutral, calculating expression.

Steam curled upward from the clean edge of the neck where the cauterization had sealed the wound.

And the body was still sitting upright, unmoving. Headless.

Subaru didn’t breathe.

His eyes flicked to the floor where something… shifted. Slick. Black. Oozing from the shadows like ink seeping from a cracked skull.

A wet pop echoed through the silence.

From the left eye socket of Mr. Tidwell’s severed head, a Yeerk slithered free.

“Illim,” Subaru whispered, his voice barely audible.

The Yeerk slid down the desk, hitting the floor with a wet splatter. The room seemed to ripple. The air warped, bending light like heat haze, and suddenly—

The floor began to bleed.

Lines of red welled up between the tiles, seeping from cracks that hadn’t been there a moment ago. A warm, metallic scent filled Subaru’s nostrils, too vivid, too real.

Then—

click

He felt it.

A cold edge.

Not touching his skin—but present. Hovering just beside his neck. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it was a blade. Felt it in his bones, felt it in the paralyzed stillness of his body.

He couldn’t move.

And he knew—with absolute certainty—he was being watched.

Four eyes.

Unblinking.

Alien.

Inhuman.

Not staring from a face, but from somewhere beyond the veil of what made sense. He couldn’t see them, but he could feel them. Staring.

Mr. Tidwell and Illim's voice rang out, a shriek broken with pain.

<“Why did you let him die, Subaru? Why him and not you?! Why him and not YOU?! WHY HIM AND NOT YOU?!”>

“I’m sorry—!” Subaru screamed, voice cracking in horror. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—!”

But nothing moved. His legs refused to respond. His arms were lead. Even Oran’s desperate pulls on their shared nerves and muscle failed to elicit a twitch.

<Subaru,> Oran said, his voice hollow now. <I can’t move. We can’t move. I’m sorry.>

From the edge of the desk, the headless body rose. Slowly. Mechanically.

It stumbled, uncertain in its direction, arms outstretched like a blind puppet. And in its hands… something began to take shape.

A Dracon beam.

Subaru’s heart hammered. He recognized the components—the dull black alloy, the blinking red coil, the needle-fine emitter tip forming as if welded from darkness and thought.

No.

NO.

The body raised the weapon. The beam’s core lit up with an eerie hum.

<“It’s okay,”> Oran whispered, like a voice in a dream you can’t run from. <“We’ll die together. Maybe that’s enough.”>

"Oran what the hell!?" Subaru thought shouting at himself.

The hum rose in pitch.

Higher.

Louder.

A crescendo of death.

The weapon pointed directly at Subaru’s skull.

He stared into its gleaming eye—

VRRRRRMMMM—

Subaru bolted upright in bed, his throat raw from the scream that tore from it. He was tangled in blankets, sweat-soaked and shaking. His heart pounded like war drums in his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps.

For a moment—

He wasn’t sure it was a dream.

The smell of blood.

The blade.

The eyes.

It all clung to him like smoke.

He looked around wildly.

No Yeerk facility.

No desk.

Just a warmly lit bedroom, wood-paneled and clean.

Emilia’s manor.

He remembered now.

The assassin.

The fight.

The exhaustion.

And now—this.

...

...

...

...

...

...

"...Crap" Subaru says quietly, the dream still not forgotten. ''Rotten luck strikes again...''

A/N: Aaannnddd Arc 1 is over! After a month of updates. Finally!

Arc 2 is near so leave your best theories for how it will continue. I won't be posting as frequently since, i will be busy writing Re chronicles, the prequel series for Re: Animorphs.

https://ao3-rd-8.onrender.com/works/65745214/chapters/169314406

So don't forget to read it and comment! Just click the series. And give me your opinion on it!

And if yiu are a marvel fan, i have a few marvel fics. If you'd like to read.

Fun fact: I was inspired by Slay the princess, and by the prisoner route, that game.

Well see you sometime!

Peace ✌️.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12 : Can't sleep

It was still night.

The world outside the tall, arched window glowed faintly silver, bathed in moonlight. A soft breeze ruffled the curtains, and somewhere far off, a wind chime gently sang.

Subaru hadn’t slept.

He lay motionless, sprawled awkwardly across an expensive bed that felt... wrong. Not in the nightmare sense. Just physically wrong.

Too soft.

But not pillow-soft. Not that welcome plush that makes you sink and drift off. No, this was the kind of soft that fought back. Like trying to sleep on memory foam soaked in tension and formality.

His back hurt, somehow. And his neck felt too straight.

"Whoever bought this thing should get a refund," he muttered to the ceiling.

And then—click.

A faint buzz. A voice—calm, synthetic, oddly chipper.

> “You seem restless, user Subaru. Pulse slightly elevated. Shall I play sleep-optimized binaural audio?”

Subaru blinked and sat up.

“The hell—Oran?” he whispered sharply.

> “Correction: Oran 2.0, Companion AI build 137. Memory merge active. Subroutines synced to 89% efficiency. Good evening.”

His wrist buzzed faintly again, and a soft holographic interface blinked into view. Sleek. Minimal. Familiar in a comforting, uncanny way.

He stared at it.

"You're… back?"

> “Not in the full sense. Whatever event transported us here severed all data-link uplinks, optical feeds, and morph-recognition systems. I’m only able to interface via local projection. Thought-speak is off-limits. Current functionality: limited advisory.”

Subaru sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Great. Just what I needed. A partially functional AI sidekick and a psycho knifewoman trying to extract my intestines like she’s peeling fruit. And now i have to fix you...”

> “Subtle physiological note: your heartrate just spiked by 12 BPM. Nightmare?”

Subaru let the silence stretch for a few seconds.

Then he nodded. Slowly. Eyes fixed on the window across the room.

“I saw Tidwell. Or Illim. Or both. And it ended… badly.”

> “Badly as in ambiguous-symbolism badly, or badly as in blood-splatter-direction-forensics badly?”

“…The second one,” Subaru muttered, throat dry. “There was a blade. A Dracon beam. And those eyes. I couldn’t move. It was like being inside a goddamn Cronenberg film.”

> “I detect post-traumatic anxiety responses. Your sympathetic nervous system is on alert. Nightmares can be common following severe reality displacements.”

Subaru didn’t answer right away. He turned toward the window instead, slipping off the covers, padding across the cool wood floor.

The moon outside was still high, glowing softly above distant hills.

“…It wasn’t just the dream,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “I was supposed to take my meds. Back home. Before all this. I took half the dose. Was going to take the other half after eating.”

> “Noted. Dose incomplete. Current mental-state irregularities may be compounded by withdrawal. Physical exhaustion is exacerbating stress. Likely hallucination probability—elevated.”

“I’m aware,” he muttered.

Subaru pressed a hand against the cold glass. It grounded him, somehow.

> “Your choice not to inform the others here about the Animorphs or our reality is logical—though eventually unsustainable. I recommend contingency planning.”

Subaru snorted softly. “Yeah? And what do I say? ‘Hi, I’m from another world. I turn into animals and fought alien slugs with my brain twin. Please pass the salt’?”

> “Snark detected. Humor levels normal. Triage status: stable.”

He let his forehead rest against the glass.

“…Oran?”

> “Yes?”

“Do you think… it’ll follow me here? The war? The Visser? The Yeerks?”

There was a pause.

Then:

> “Your life has inertia, Subaru. Even across worlds, I suspect some battles are unavoidable.”

Subaru let the silence settle after that. No clever response. No more jokes.

Just the low hum of the Artificial Intelligence.

The cool of the glass.

And the heavy quiet of a foreign room that didn’t quite feel like sleep.

The moonlight filtered through the tall window in pale ribbons. It painted the wooden floor in streaks of silver, and Subaru’s silhouette seemed paper-thin against the glass.

He stood there for a while, hands stuffed in the pockets of a borrowed tunic that didn’t quite fit right, staring out into a world that wasn’t his.

No cars. No neon lights. No air pollution.

Just silence.

Subaru exhaled, slow and shaky.

> “You're still awake.”

The AI’s voice buzzed quietly from his wrist. Calm. Not robotic, exactly—just clean. Smoothed edges.

“Of course I’m still awake,” Subaru replied, not turning around. “Can’t really sleep after, you know, watching a Yeerk crawl out of someone’s face and a decapitated corpse aim a dracon beam at me.”

> “Technically speaking, the image was metaphorical. Likely a psychic projection of guilt and suppressed anxiety regarding Illim’s fate and your own helplessness during the war. Not literal.”

Subaru snorted. “Thanks, doc. Very reassuring.”

He turned and flopped down in the armchair near the window. The moonlight caught only half of his face, the rest swallowed in soft shadow. He stared at his own hands.

“…He was a good person,” Subaru said quietly. “Tidwell. Or Illim. Or both. I don’t know where one ended and the other began. But they were trying. Risking everything just to help people. Even people who didn’t want their help.”

> “Illim's choices were statistically irrational by the modern Yeerk standards. But deeply human.”

“Exactly,” Subaru whispered.

There was a long silence.

The kind that stretches just enough to feel real. Not awkward—just weighted.

> “Do you regret coming here?” Oran 2.0 asked eventually. “Leaving your world?”

Subaru leaned his head back against the chair, eyes closing.

“…Regret’s the wrong word,” he said. “I didn’t choose this. I mean—I walked into a grave and then bam, rabbit hole to Narnia. Not exactly an active decision. But…”

He trailed off.

> “But?”

Subaru opened his eyes again. The ceiling beams looked like bones in the moonlight.

“…Part of me’s glad I’m here,” he admitted. “No war. No slugs in brains. No... bodybags. Just weird talking cats, sword saints, and creepy assassins.”

> “A marked improvement.”

“Not really,” he murmured, noting the sarcasm in AI voice. “Because I brought all of it with me. The guilt. The instincts. The paranoia. You, even.”

> “Do you resent me?”

Subaru blinked. That question caught him off guard.

He looked down at the projection on his wrist. Just a soft-blue ring now. Waiting.

“…No,” he said. “You’re not the real Oran anyway. Just... the version my brain remembers. You’re the one thing that makes sense in all this.”

> “That makes me… glad. If a program can feel that.”

“It can,” Subaru replied. “Because I’m not talking to code. I’m talking to the version of Oran I trusted enough to share a body with. And the fact that I’m still talking to you means I haven’t let go of that trust. Even if you’re just 2.0.”

> “Noted. Emotionally significant. Entry logged.”

Subaru smiled faintly. “Thanks, Cortana.”

> “You could have gone with something more original.”

“I’m sleep-deprived and emotionally compromised. You’re lucky I didn’t call you Clippy.”

> “I’ll delete that comment from memory.”

They both went quiet again. This time, the silence felt lighter.

Then Subaru asked something he hadn’t really meant to ask.

“Do you think they’ll ever find me? The others?”

> “The Animorphs?”

He nodded.

> “I don’t know. You fell outside the morph-net tether. I was only able to reconnect due to the residual imprint and the AI backup. Whatever phenomenon brought us here… it doesn’t match anything Andalite or Yeerk, nor Kelbrid.”

“Figures.”

> “But I know them. I know you. And if anyone can punch through dimensions with sheer force of stubbornness and trauma... it's them.”

Subaru laughed softly. “That sounds about right.”

He stood slowly, crossed back to the window, and leaned his forehead against the glass again.

Outside, the wind whispered through unseen trees. Somewhere in the night, a wolf cried.

> “Try to sleep, Subaru.”

“Can’t promise I won’t dream again.”

> “Then I’ll be here.”

“…Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything more after that.

The window stayed cool. The AI stayed online. The world stayed quiet.

And slowly—slowly—Subaru allowed his eyes to slip shut.

Subaru let his eyes rest for a few minutes. Not sleep—he knew better than to try again. But just… stillness. Stillness was something he could manage.

The quiet hum of Oran 2.0’s presence broke the silence, not intrusive, but attentive.

> “Subaru. Did you… take your medication?''

The voice was gentle, almost hesitant, like it didn’t want to push too hard.

Subaru cracked open one eye, then closed it again.

“…Took half,” he murmured. “Was going to take the other half before I… you know. Got Narnia’d.”

> “Suboptimal. Noted.''

Subaru pushed himself up from the chair, stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders popped. He crossed back toward the large window, unlatching it with a quiet click. A rush of cool night air flooded the room, carrying the scent of pine and dew.

“I’m going to go for a short fly,” he said, almost offhandedly.

> “Is that wise?”

Subaru smiled faintly. “Nope.”

He stepped up onto the windowsill, toes curling slightly on the edge.

“I just want to stretch my wings. I’ll be back before anyone misses me.”

> “If you morph,” Oran 2.0 reminded him, “I won’t be able to communicate with you. You’ll lose all higher cognitive thought after the two-hour threshold.”

Subaru paused. Then gave the faintest nod.

“I know. I’m sure.”

And then—

He let the morph begin.

It always started with the bones. A strange, bending inward. His legs folded, knees snapping back and twisting. His arms shortened, elbows reversing as fingers fused together, digits lengthening into curved talons. Sharp. Precise.

His skin rippled—brown and white feathers bursting forth from his pores in elegant silence, layering in downy waves across his chest and shoulders.

His jaw clenched involuntarily as it stretched into a hooked beak, sharp and curved, while his eyes shifted—round, golden, and impossibly large, consuming all the moonlight in the room.

He shrank. Weight compressing into a dense, compact body built for silence.

Within seconds, where a boy once stood, now perched a great horned owl—majestic, fierce, and watchful.

Broad wings folded at his sides. Tufts of feathers rose like small horns above his wide, glowing eyes. His entire body felt like one poised muscle, primed for flight.

> “Subaru… Be careful.”

The voice was fading now. Distant.

The owl turned his head, neck rotating nearly all the way around, and gave a slow, deliberate nod.

Oran 2.0 understood.

The wind tugged gently at his feathers.

And without another sound, Subaru spread his wings—broad and regal, the span of them catching the moonlight like sails.

He leapt from the windowsill.

And vanished into the silver night.

The night air cradled him.

Up here, there was only silence—true silence. Not the anxious quiet of a room holding its breath, but the calm, eternal hush of wind passing through feathers. It was the kind of silence that didn’t feel empty. It felt sacred.

Subaru flew soundlessly, every beat of his wings deliberate, controlled. The great horned owl’s body responded to every current, every subtle shift in the breeze, with the effortless grace of something made for this world.

He didn’t think about flying.

He just flew.

Below him, the world opened up.

He was… at a manor?

His sharp golden eyes scanned the vast grounds beneath. Stone walls surrounded a large, aristocratic estate—elegant but practical, nestled into a clearing like a crown placed gently in the palm of the forest.

He’d expected… well, he didn’t know what he’d expected. Something more rural. Something more fantasy cliché, maybe. But this—this was something between high nobility and secluded sanctuary. And it was huge.

The buildings themselves were old but well-kept. Servant quarters. Stables. A carriage house. The main building stood at the center like a sleeping beast. Chimneys. Shuttered windows. A few lanterns flickered faintly.

Subaru banked left, circling once, talons tucked in tight.

Beyond the manor walls, the land gave way to dense, ancient forest—deep green and black in the moonlight. It stretched out in every direction, wild and unbroken. A place untouched. A place that could swallow people whole.

He glided over the treetops, silent as shadow.

This place… it really was another world.

He tried not to let the weight of that thought settle in too hard, but it came anyway.

Another world.

No Animorphs.

No Cassie. No Jake. No Marco. No Tobias. No Ax.

No war. No Yeerks. No Ellimist. No Crayak. No hope of backup. No answers.

Just him.

And whatever the hell this place was.

He didn’t even know if he was technically human here anymore. Not with what morphing felt like now. It was more seamless. Sharper. Almost like something had… upgraded.

He wasn’t sure he liked that.

Subaru beat his wings once, catching a rising breeze and letting it lift him higher above the tree line. His sharp owl eyes scanned the edge of the forest for movement. Deer, maybe. Or wolves. Or something less mundane. This world didn’t exactly come with a handbook.

Down below, the manor shimmered faintly under the moonlight. A pocket of civilization tucked into a world of myth.

He wondered how long he could keep this up.

How long until someone like Elsa came back?

How long until he found out what brought him here?

How long before someone realized what he really was?

…Would they even believe him?

He felt the owl’s instincts stir again—urging him to hunt, to scan the underbrush for prey. But he pushed it back. Let the mind stay his, just a little longer.

Up here, there were no answers.

But at least there was still the sky.

And for tonight, that would have to be enough.

---

The world stretched beneath him like a living painting, and Subaru kept flying.

Not fast. Not high. Just… moving. Coasting through the cold night air with no real direction. He didn’t need one. For the first time in what felt like weeks, he didn’t have to think about where to go, what to say, who to save.

He was simply… being.

The owl’s instincts were sharp, but not overwhelming. The need to hunt was there, tucked in the background like background music you could ignore if you chose. His own thoughts sat neatly layered over them—human and animal, harmonized just enough to co-exist.

The mansion stayed in his mind like a lighthouse — etched into both human memory and owl instinct. His internal compass kept one wing angled toward its general direction, a tether that let him wander without ever getting lost.

A long, slow glide carried him just above the treetops. Leaves rustled below, and once or twice, something rustled in the underbrush — a deer, maybe. Or a fox. Nothing predatory. Nothing like her.

Elsa’s smile flickered across his mind, like a stain that hadn’t fully washed out.

Subaru adjusted his wings and pushed the image away.

He drifted further out, beyond the first ring of forest surrounding the manor, until the trees grew wilder, older. Here the woods were darker — not just in shade, but in feeling. The stars above shimmered faintly through gaps in the canopy, and the moonlight painted silver patterns across mossy rocks and still-clear ponds.

Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. Not him. A real one. A territorial cry.

Subaru didn’t answer it.

This was just a flight. A break.

A fragile sliver of peace in a world that kept trying to shatter it.

He banked gently, coasting along a ridge line, catching the cool updraft that rolled off the slopes. His feathers caught it perfectly, gliding with mechanical silence.

He could keep going like this for hours. He wanted to. But…

Somewhere, deep down, he knew the moment wouldn't last.

It never did.

But for now, the sky was his. The cold air was clean. The stars didn’t ask questions. The night didn’t demand explanations. And the wind—just for a while—let him pretend he wasn’t lost, or hurt, or tired.

He just flew.

And it was enough.

Subaru landed softly on the thick limb of an old pine tree, its bark rough beneath his talons, the scent of resin sharp in the cold air. The branch creaked slightly under his weight, but held. He nestled down, tucking his wings close to his body, golden eyes scanning the vast, moonlit forest stretched endlessly before him.

The woods were quiet, but not silent. Crickets sang softly in the underbrush. Far off, a stream babbled to itself, winding its ancient path through roots and rock. Wind sighed through the branches like a giant breathing in its sleep.

From here, the world looked untouched. Pure. Like nothing he’d seen before — or maybe like everything he used to know.

He stared out at the trees, their tops shifting gently like waves in an endless ocean, and allowed himself to feel something he rarely allowed:

Calm.

Not joy. Not comfort.

But stillness.

The kind that crept in on nights like this, when the wind whispered, and the sky remembered how to shine.

Nature never changes, he thought, but it adapts.

The thought sank in slowly, like warm tea through frostbitten fingers. War, displacement, pain, new worlds… But nature? It didn't flinch. It didn’t pity. It just… continued.

He remembered standing in a charred forest once — the air thick with smoke, the trees skeletal. Burned to nothing. But months later, shoots of green had poked up from the ash, defiant and alive.

Beautiful and cruel, he thought.

Somewhere below, a rabbit squealed. A predator had found its mark. Likely a fox. Or maybe an owl. His kind.

Subaru didn't flinch.

Cruel, yes. But fair. The forest had no sides, no factions, no politics. No peace movements. No Vissers. No Kings.

Just life. Trying to live.

He let out a long sigh through his beak, sharp and low.

For a brief second, he forgot about Elsa’s blades. About Visser One’s dream machinations. He forgot about Rachel’s perfect smile frozen in a photograph, or Tobias soaring too far to follow it.

He was just here.

Alive.

Under a sky full of stars that didn’t care who he was.

They changed my clothes, he noticed belatedly.

Nothing from Earth probably. A gift from strangers.

He blinked.

Then shrugged—well, as much as an owl could shrug.

Doesn’t matter.

With one fluid motion, he leapt from the branch, wings unfurling silently in the moonlight. He tilted back toward the mansion, the distant glint of its roof catching a sliver of starlight in the far trees.

His talons sliced the air. He angled downward, coasting on an invisible path he knew by instinct and memory alike.

Back to the unknown, he thought, but at least I can face it clean.

He let the wind carry him to the mansion.

A/N: Wrote this shit stressed about getting a job.

It calmed me.

Anyways, what did you think about the chapter? I liked the introspection of self.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13 Hallway’s always 

The flight back to the mansion had been easy. Too easy. The wind was gentle, the air still damp from the cool of night, and the world below a sea of silver shadows. Subaru soared just above the treetops, wings wide and soundless — a ghost passing over the sleeping world.

The manor’s silhouette emerged ahead, lights dimmed, its many gables and chimneys like black teeth against the stars.

Subaru spotted his open window and angled in low, folding his wings as he came closer. At the last moment — because no one was watching and the night deserved at least a little style — he tucked his wings and flipped.

He rolled through the air, a quick, tight front flip — his feathers slicing through the stillness with satisfying resistance. The wind rippled past him, brushing his feathers like cool fingers across his back.

He landed inside with a soft thud, talons pressing into polished wood with the faintest click.

Subaru stood still for a moment.

Golden owl eyes surveyed the room.

The space looked different from when he'd left — more organized. The bed was neatly made, a fresh pitcher of water on the nightstand. A folded blanket sat on a chair, along with a fresh towel and—

Was that a vase of flowers?

Weird.

He blinked slowly, letting his owl vision soak in every detail. Every outline stood in high-definition contrast. Every object seemed to glow faintly in his mind, the way only prey-sight could provide.

But nothing moved.

He was alone.

He began to demorph.

Feathers retreated like smoke reversing time. His beak softened, stretching into a human mouth. Talons dulled and thickened into fingers, legs snapping into their bipedal shape. Wings curled in, bones groaning as they compacted into arms.

It didn’t hurt — it never hurt — but it felt. Like unraveling a secret under your skin.

Within a minute, he stood on two human feet again, barefoot on the wooden floor, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

“Still stylish,” Subaru muttered.

> “You didn’t die,” came Oran 2.0’s synthetic voice from the bracelet.

Subaru gave a wry chuckle. “That’s one way to say ‘welcome back.’”

> “I estimate your heart rate peaked during that aerial stunt. I assume it was unnecessary.”

Subaru shrugged. “Style points.”

He stretched. That familiar stiffness was back in his shoulders and knees — the ache of return. The robe he wore shifted against his skin, soft and warm.

Blue.

It was a baby-blue robe, thick fabric with silver embroidery at the cuffs and hem. Not flashy, but formal.

It made him frown.

“…They changed me?”

> “Yes,” Oran 2.0 replied. “Two maids. While you were asleep. Your previous clothing was torn and bloodstained. Unacceptable for recovery.”

Subaru groaned and rubbed his face. “Damn it… I hate being changed in my sleep.”

He finished rubbing his face and sighed.

“How long was I out?”

“A full day. You collapsed due to accumulated physical and neurological stress. And, according to my analysis… your body is not yet adapted to the environmental shift.”

Subaru blinked. “Wait, what?”

“There are small variances in atmospheric composition, gravitational constant, and even baseline saturation. Your cells are adjusting on the fly.”

“Well that would’ve been nice to know before I face-tanked a psycho with knives.” He sighed, then walked toward the pitcher and poured a glass of water, taking a long, slow drink.

> Oran 2.0. continued, “Have you noticed anything different? Strength, stamina, cognitive shift?”

Subaru stared out the window.

“…The flight,” he said quietly. “Something about the way I moved. The way the wind felt. I didn’t feel like I was fighting it — I was it. Like… the air obeyed.”

There was a long pause from Oran.

> “Noted.”

Subaru sat on the edge of the bed, robe shifting slightly around his knees. He tugged at the collar, still a bit unsettled by how easily he’d been cleaned and redressed like a kid after recess.

“…This place. This world. It’s already changing me.”

He didn’t sound scared.

Just… tired.

But beneath that?

A flicker of curiosity.

---

Subaru sat in silence, the robe pooling loosely around his legs, elbows resting on his knees, fingers steepled beneath his chin.

A full day.

He’d been out a full day.

His body still felt sore in all the wrong places, but it was less the physical wear that bothered him — and more the ticking sense that time was already slipping.

He didn’t have time to mope. Not anymore.

The war was over. But the mission — the greater one — wasn’t. He didn’t know how he got here, and he definitely didn’t know how to get back.

But he had to figure it out.

Eventually.

“…I’ll worry about that later,” Subaru muttered, slouching back against the bedframe with a long, drawn-out sigh.

He let his eyes wander lazily around the room. It was tidy, warm, a little rustic. Pale wallpaper, a sturdy oak desk, elegant curtains. A well-crafted space with the kind of comfort that someone thought about. Someone had intended for this room to feel safe.

But something was missing.

His brow furrowed.

Wait a second…

“…There’s no toilet.”

He looked around again, slower this time, as if a porcelain throne might suddenly rise up from under the bed like some hidden boss encounter.

But no. No bathroom. No basin. Not even a discreet little pot tucked away in a corner.

He blinked at the absurdity.

“Well. That’s a problem.”

It was still night. The halls would be mostly quiet. Which meant…

“Perfect,” he grinned. “Guess I’ve got the perfect excuse to snoop around a little. You know, ‘accidentally’ run into a servant or two. Build some social rapport. Map out the territory.”

He paused.

“…Or I could morph. Fly outside. Find a nice bush and just let nature do its thing.”

There was a long silence in the room.

He visibly cringed.

“Yeah. No.”

His hand tapped the bracelet. “Hey, Oran?”

> “Yes?”

“Was it really only two maids who came in while I was out?”

“Yes. A pink-haired girl and one with blue hair. Efficient. Thorough. Coordinated.”

“Huh… you didn’t try to resist them?”

> “I lack a physical body, Subaru.”

“Okay, but like… couldn’t they have taken you off my wrist?”

There was a pause.

> “…They didn’t. Oddly enough.”

Subaru’s brow creased. “Think they left you on so they could ask questions later?”

> “Possibly. Or they suspected I was integrated into your biology. Or perhaps they simply didn’t want to risk damaging something they didn’t understand. Hard to say.”

Subaru exhaled through his nose. The theories were stacking up like empty ramen bowls in his head.

“Well, put it on the list,” he muttered.

Then, he stood, adjusting his robe and tugging it closed a bit more securely.

“Alright,” he said. “Time to socialize. Let’s see if anyone’s awake. Worst case, I find a privy. Best case, I get some info.”

> “Be careful,” Oran 2.0 said. “You’ve already made an impression. I recommend you avoid adding ‘weird hallway wanderer’ to the list.”

“No promises,” Subaru grinned.

He padded quietly toward the door and pressed a hand against the wood.

“Let’s see what kind of world I’ve actually landed in.”

And with that, he slipped into the hallway, shadows stretching ahead like a story waiting to be written.

Subaru stepped softly onto the polished stone floor, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind him with a gentle thunk. The hallway ahead stretched far into the shadows, dimly lit by flickering candle sconces mounted along the walls. It was quiet. Still. Too still.

He took a few steps, eyes adjusting to the half-light.

It was… massive.

“Huge-ass hallways…” Subaru muttered, his voice echoing lightly. “I swear, rich people just make their houses big so they feel like NPCs are loading in behind them.”

He passed a painting, pausing. The brushwork caught his eye.

It depicted a night sky — indigo and midnight blue, swirled with lavender haze and silver stars. A full moon hung luminous in the center, so lifelike it seemed to pulse with its own soft glow.

Subaru tilted his head.

“Damn,” he said. “That’s actually… really nice. I’d hang that up. Maybe not in my bathroom, but y’know. Somewhere classy.”

> Oran 2.0 chimed in through the bracelet’s speaker. “It’s a quality piece. Slightly impressionistic in the brushstroke, but with classical framing. A nice touch.”

Subaru snorted. “Since when are you an art critic?”

> “I learned from watching your internet search history,” Oran said, completely serious. “You googled ‘cool wall art’ no less than fourteen times.”

“Guilty,” Subaru muttered. “Still, I bet this hallway’s bigger than the Finland estate.”

> “You mean the one with the geothermal heating and the indoor arboretum?” Oran said with a hint of fondness. “Yes. Though I liked that one.”

“Yeah, the Finland one had charm,” Subaru said as he resumed walking. “Though I still think France was more my vibe. Cozy. Classic. That weird tower room with the telescope.”

“Sweden was my favorite,” Oran 2.0 admitted. “Efficient layout. Excellent security systems. The fireplace did not creak.”

“Wow,” Subaru teased. “So you do have preferences. I thought you were above such lowly flesh-being sentimentality.”

> “I’m an AI, not a sociopath.”

Subaru chuckled, stuffing his hands into the deep robe pockets as they continued forward.

After a few more steps, he blinked.

The hallway was still going.

Like, still going.

“Okay… has it been ten minutes?” Subaru muttered. “This place is like a Final Fantasy dungeon. Where’s the random encounter?”

He turned his head slightly.

On the right-hand wall — the same painting.

Same colors.

Same composition.

Same damn moon.

Subaru stopped mid-step.

“…Oran.”

> “Yes?”

“I’ve passed that painting before. I’m sure of it. You remember the moon with the wispy clouds, right?”

> “I do,” the AI replied calmly. “It's identical.”

Subaru narrowed his eyes. “So either they’re really into print copies… or this hallway loops.”

There was a pause.

Then, both of them said in unison:

“The hallway loops.”

Subaru let his head fall back with a dramatic groan. “Great. Just great. I came out looking for a bathroom, not a Scooby-Doo haunted hallway rerun.”

> Oran 2.0 offered, “I don’t detect anything anomalous — no magical interference, no distortions in air pressure or temperature. But spatial repetition… yes. Definitely.”

Subaru rubbed his face. “God, I hate looping corridors. I swear if some smug ghost girl shows up trying to lecture me in riddles, I’m jumping out the window and taking my owl chances.”

He looked ahead at the seemingly endless hallway… then slowly back at the painting. Same stars. Same moon. Same haunting stillness.

“This is turning into a night,” he sighed. “Alright. New plan. Let’s turn around, retrace our steps. Or better yet—find a servant. Someone who knows where the actual exit to this dungeon is.”

> “Agreed,” Oran said. “And for the record: morphing to relieve yourself is still not a dignified solution.”

Subaru cracked a small smile. “That was one time. And I didn’t do it.”

He turned sharply on his heel and started back the way he came, determined now not just to find a bathroom—but to find out what kind of mansion throws a looping illusion spell on its corridors like it’s a casual Tuesday.

---

Subaru had been walking for several more minutes now, retracing his steps down the hallway in the opposite direction. The air remained unnaturally still. His slippers padded softly across the polished floor, the only sound accompanying him. A few sconces flickered, casting long shadows on the wooden walls.

He sighed.

“The other I’ve ever been in before this were the White House… the Tokyo Metropolitan Governor’s Residence once, which I hope to never do again,” he muttered. “And maybe that one guest villa in Sapporo… but this place is like none of those.”

He kept walking—and then froze.

There it was again. The same painting. Night sky. Same moon. Same brushstroke swirl in the stars. Still no signature on the corner.

“Damn it,” he said flatly, voice low. “Alright. Screw it.”

He took a step back, rolled his neck, and let the sensation of morphing wash over him.

“Oran,” he said quietly. “I’m going to morph. Let’s try this the canine way.”

> “Understood,” Oran 2.0 replied from the bracelet calmly. “But as a reminder—you won’t be able to communicate with me once morph is complete.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Subaru grumbled. “We really need to fix that. Feels like a late-night Fuji TV drama: all the tension, none of the convenience.”

> “Self-repair protocols for advanced communication are projected to complete in approximately four days,” the AI answered matter-of-factly.

Subaru rolled his eyes. “Perfect. Remind me to schedule my social life around that.”

With a breath, he let go.

The morph started—his bones creaked and stretched, arms elongating into forelegs, hands collapsing into padded paws. Fur spread over his body like a rippling wave—sleek, gray-black with touches of white under his muzzle. His ears sharpened, tail forming as his balance shifted. His teeth grew longer, curved into killing tools.

The wolf blinked.

And his new senses exploded to life.

The scent of wax, dust, fabric, distant flowers from outside… and then—something subtler.

Old paper. Aged leather. Ink. A quiet, whispering scent of books.

His instincts itched. Knowledge. Hidden corners. Something important?

Subaru-wolf started moving.

His paws glided noiselessly across the floor as he followed the scent. It appeared and disappeared faintly like a faulty radio signal—there one moment, faint the next. But it was enough to track.

He reached a door, one unlike the others. The scent here was stronger. Less hallway, more… presence.

This was the first room he’d passed when he entered the loop, wasn’t it?

He began to demorph. The transformation reversed in waves—fur shrinking, limbs twisting back, paws becoming hands again. His spine cracked as it straightened, his face pulling back from its canine shape into something human once more.

“Ugh,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “All this just to find a damn toilet. What a pain.”

He turned the handle.

The door opened with a slow creak.

Inside, the first thing Subaru saw was a child.

No—more accurately, a young girl.

She couldn’t have been older than ten. About Karen’s age, when he and Cassie first met her all those years ago. But this girl was dressed so extravagantly he almost mistook her for a doll at first glance.

There were books everywhere—floor to ceiling. A frilled pink dress layered beneath a short white fur-trimmed jacket. Or maybe it was one of those ornate cloaks? Subaru couldn’t be sure. Too many ribbons. Blonde curls framed her pale face with more ribbons attached to her hair, and her eyes—bright blue—sparkled with… butterfly-shaped pupils?

Subaru’s brain stalled for a moment trying to figure out how that worked biologically. Then promptly gave up.

The girl blinked slowly, as if processing that someone had walked into her space without permission.

Then she frowned.

With a voice that carried more command than a child should rightly possess, she said:

“How do you look like such an irritable person, I wonder?”

Subaru blinked.

…What?

A/N: What did you think?

I know it wasn't something too long and it felt slightly like filler.

Yeah, i have nothing else to say just leave a kudos or a comment.

Chapter Text

Author's Note:

Hey everyone,

I’ve been struggling with a bit of writer’s block these past few days—just couldn’t find the right way to bring closure to this stretch of the  saga. It’s been frustrating not being able to move things forward the way I wanted to.

On top of that, I was physically assaulted yesterday. I’m okay—just a little bruised and shaken. Definitely not the kind of day you want to be creatively stuck, though.

That said, I don’t expect to post the full chapter anytime soon while I take time to rest and recalibrate. So instead, I’m leaving you all with this early snippet of the next chapter.

Thanks for your patience, and as always, thank you for reading 💛

Here's the snippet:

Chapter 14

The fool stood frozen for a moment, as if his brain was still buffering reality. She raised one delicate eyebrow in silent judgment. How long was he going to gawk?

Still no response. Irritating.

His dull, heavy-lidded eyes began drifting across the room—no, her domain—taking in the endless shelves of books with an expression halfway between confusion and resignation.

Black hair… Uncommon. Uncommon enough to be worth noting.

She narrowed her eyes. How did such a person—a stranger, clearly not of this place, and dressed in the kind of blue robe that screamed poor taste and poorer tailoring—manage to find her sanctuary? The Forbidden Library was not meant to be accessed by just anyone. That looping hallway spell wasn’t some parlor trick. It had rules. Wards. Layers.

And yet…

Here he was. Looking tired. As if this whole affair was a mild inconvenience, not a metaphysical breach of her constructed reality.

Beatrice sighed inwardly. So much effort. All those layers of mana, the tuning of the loop’s anchors to the lunar cycle, the intentionally annoying repetition of paintings… All undone because this fool managed to stumble in while looking for a something.

“Ahem,” the stranger said, breaking the silence with the delicacy of a shovel to stone. “Sorry to bother you, little miss, but… where’s the toilet?”

Beatrice stared.

...What?

She blinked.

Surely, he didn’t just—

“I asked,” the dull-eyed man repeated, this time with the air of someone deeply over it, “where the toilet is. Also, that hallway you’ve got out there is a pain. You wouldn’t happen to be the one who set that up, would you?”

Beatrice opened her mouth—only for him to wave a hand dismissively.

“Eh, it’s water under the bridge. I’m not here to complain. I’m just looking for a bathroom.”

Water under the bridge?

Water under the bridge!?

Beatrice could feel her expression faltering. Not in anger. Not yet. But in sheer disbelief. The audacity. The gall. This man broke into her personal domain—a sanctuary sealed off from the rest of this gaudy mansion, no less—circled around her spell like it was a leisurely stroll, and now stood here in that absurd blue robe asking for plumbing?

“This,” she said icily, “is my private room, my personal archive, and my resting place, I suppose. You stand in Beatrice’s domain, uninvited.”

The stranger—gave the room another slow once-over. He scratched the back of his head with that same deadpan neutrality.

“You sleep in a library?” he said, voice dry. “You don’t even have a bed. Just… books. And a chair.”

He shrugged. “If I hadn’t just gone through a hallway that looped like some bad ‘90s JRPG puzzle, I might’ve found all this pretty hilarious.”

Beatrice’s eye twitched.

She was going to erase him from existence.

But first, she needed to decide whether this man was merely a fool… or a fool with a purpose.

Chapter Text

Hello, my dear viewers ♥️. 

I wanted to inform you that i've recovered from my assault.

Bruises faded, and i'm all good now physically, i just wanted to inform you that im going to start doing as of QNA as off...

NOW!!!

Welcome to this channel 1st official QnA.

You will answer a question by Q:

And i will answer by A:

You can ask me questions character or where the story, you think will go.

That goes to both Animorphs and Re:Zero fans.

This Version of Subaru’s life.

Subaru’s relationship with the Animorphs.

The uhh, David situation.

Who is Nathan, because (spoilers) he's a character that will appear later.

Maybe some Headcanon you have?

As a writer whom doesn't have a lot experience would like to hear your opinions.

Remember don't spoil much.

Also, i will post a new chapter this week.

I also have patreon, which i haven't finished making yet... 

Anyway have good day or night. PEACE ✌️ 

Chapter Text

Chapter 14: Suspicious 

The fool stood frozen for a moment, as if his brain was still buffering reality. She raised one delicate eyebrow in silent judgment. How long was he going to gawk?

Still no response. Irritating.

His dull, heavy-lidded eyes began drifting across the room—no, her domain—taking in the endless shelves of books with an expression halfway between confusion and resignation.

Black hair… Uncommon. Uncommon enough to be worth noting.

She narrowed her eyes. How did such a person—a stranger, clearly not of this place, and dressed in the kind of blue robe that screamed poor taste and poorer tailoring—manage to find her sanctuary? The Forbidden Library was not meant to be accessed by just anyone. That looping hallway spell wasn’t some parlor trick. It had rules. Wards. Layers.

And yet…

Here he was. Looking tired. As if this whole affair was a mild inconvenience, not a metaphysical breach of her constructed reality.

Beatrice sighed inwardly. So much effort. All those layers of mana, the tuning of the loop’s anchors to the lunar cycle, the intentionally annoying repetition of paintings… All undone because this fool managed to stumble in while looking for a something.

“Ahem,” the stranger said, breaking the silence with the delicacy of a shovel to stone. “Sorry to bother you, little miss, but… where’s the toilet?”

Beatrice stared.

...What?

She blinked.

Surely, he didn’t just—

“I asked,” the dull-eyed man repeated, this time with the air of someone deeply over it, “where the toilet is. Also, that hallway you’ve got out there is a pain. You wouldn’t happen to be the one who set that up, would you?”

Beatrice opened her mouth—only for him to wave a hand dismissively.

“Eh, it’s water under the bridge. I’m not here to complain. I’m just looking for a bathroom.”

Water under the bridge?

Water under the bridge!?

Beatrice could feel her expression faltering. Not in anger. Not yet. But in sheer disbelief. The audacity. The gall. This man broke into her personal domain—a sanctuary sealed off from the rest of this gaudy mansion, no less—circled around her spell like it was a leisurely stroll, and now stood here in that absurd blue robe asking for plumbing?

“This,” she said icily, “is my private room, my personal archive, and my resting place, I suppose. You stand in Beatrice’s domain, uninvited.”

The stranger—gave the room another slow once-over. He scratched the back of his head with that same deadpan neutrality.

“You sleep in a library?” he said, voice dry. “You don’t even have a bed. Just… books. And a chair.”

He shrugged. “If I hadn’t just gone through a hallway that looped like some bad ‘90s JRPG puzzle, I might’ve found all this pretty hilarious.”

Beatrice’s eye twitched.

She was going to erase him from existence.

But first, she needed to decide whether this man was merely a fool… or a fool with a purpose.

Beatrice exhaled slowly, the tiniest sigh to cool the heat simmering in her chest.

One breath in. One breath out. Do not reduce him to ash. Yet.

The stranger, as though utterly unfazed by her barely contained fury, had already taken it upon himself to pluck a book from her shelves. Her book. In her library. Without permission.

His dull, weary eyes scanned the pages with all the enthusiasm of someone reading appliance manuals. Then—he sighed.

He sighed.

“Looking over someone else’s book and sighing…” Beatrice muttered, voice dripping with contempt as she floated closer, her twin tails of hair bouncing lightly with every step. “Are you truly trying to offend me, I wonder?”

She fixed him with a look—cool, calculating, unimpressed. Her eyes narrowed to pinpricks of scrutiny. Most would have flinched beneath her gaze.

He did not.

Instead, he snapped the book shut—not loudly, but deliberately—and slid it back into its rightful place on the shelf with the kind of precision that irked her even more. As if he knew exactly where it belonged. As if he belonged.

Then, he turned to her with a faint tilt of the head, like it had only just occurred to him.

“Ah. Right. Forgot to introduce myself,” he said. His tone remained neutral, like everything he said was filtered through a wall of detachment. “Name’s Subaru. Though you can call me Jean, if you’d like.”

“…Subaru,” she repeated, distaste curling in her voice as if she’d just been offered expired milk. “That is… an unusual name.”

He gave a small shrug. “It’s what I’ve got.”

Beatrice tilted her head, eyeing him more closely now. “No last name? Or are you merely hiding something?” she asked, crossing her arms with regal defiance. “I’ve heard of vagabonds before, but even they give proper names when they trespass.”

The stranger pursed his lips for a moment, like he was deciding something.

“…Natsuki,” he said finally. “Subaru Natsuki. Happy now?”

Beatrice blinked once.

Natsuki Subaru.

Hmph. Foreign-sounding. Not of this country, most likely. A loose thread in the weave of this strange day—and now tangled in her sanctuary.

“I will decide that later,” she replied, voice prim and cold. “For now, Subaru Natsuki, get your fingers off my shelves. And if you truly wish to know where the toilet is, you would do well to address your host with a shred of respect.”

The stranger—Subaru, or Jean, or whatever he preferred—raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. It was nonchalant, but not mocking. A peace offering made with tired eyes and stiff limbs.

“Alright, alright,” he said. “You’ve got the moral high ground, clearly. Just… what should I call you?”

Beatrice narrowed her eyes, but after a pause, lifted her chin with pride.

“Beatrice,” she said, her voice lilting with faint haughtiness. “I am Beatrice, Keeper of this Library. Remember it.”

Subaru gave a short nod, as if logging the name into a mental list already too full.

“Beatrice. Got it. Thanks for not incinerating me.”

“You were dangerously close, I assure you,” she sniffed, though her tone was less severe now. Curiosity was beginning to edge out irritation. He didn’t act like the usual trespassers. No fawning. No panic. Just... neutrality.

There was a lull.

Then he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So… uh, sorry to bring the tone crashing back down again but… where are the toilets?”

Beatrice blinked.

This boy was either incredibly dense or unfathomably unconcerned with social norms.

She tilted her head slightly, observing him. “You truly are a most aggravating guest,” she muttered. “But—” she drew the syllable out, pausing to scrutinize him further “—perhaps that’s not all you are.”

Subaru looked mildly puzzled, but didn’t interrupt.

“You’re not from here,” she said matter-of-factly, eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Your clothes are strange. Your words even stranger. And your scent is… wrong.”

He gave a little shrug, not surprised. “I get that a lot. You’re not human either, though.”

Beatrice gave a short, satisfied nod. “Correct. I am a spirit. Bound to this place, by duty.”

Subaru gave a slight tilt of his head, processing that.

“Thought so,” he muttered. “No offense, but you give off that ‘I exist outside the mortal plane’ kind of vibe.”

“…I’ll choose to take that as a compliment,” Beatrice said flatly.

There was another pause—longer this time, not awkward, just… quiet.

“You are strange,” she said at last, arms folded again. “You don’t tremble, nor grovel, nor offer gifts. You simply wander in, ask where the toilets are, and insult my library.”

“I never insulted the library,” Subaru said. “I sighed at a book.”

“Which you read without permission.”

“…Okay, yeah, that part’s fair.”

She gave a tiny, bemused hum. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she gestured to the far wall. “Exit the library. Turn left, then left again. Follow the hall to the second intersection and take the right corridor. Fifth door on the left.”

Subaru blinked. “That’s surprisingly clear. Thanks.”

“I am not cruel,” Beatrice said simply. “Just selective with whom I extend patience to.”

Subaru gave her a little half-bow. “Well, I appreciate it. Beatrice.”

She didn’t smile, but her expression lost a little of its edge.

“You are most welcome, Subaru Natsuki. Try not to get lost again. I dislike cleaning up after mortals.”

With a final nod, Subaru turned and made for the exit.

And then he was gone, leaving Beatrice alone once more amidst the bookshelves and shadows.

“…What a strange man,” she muttered to herself, staring at the closed door.

---

The sun filtered through the tall windows of the Mathers Mansion, and with it came the sound of chores being done. Or rather, the sound of Rem diligently moving about while Ram… supervised. Her younger sister’s quiet humming mixed with the soft rhythm of cloth brushing over wood and silver.

Ram sipped her tea, seated neatly in the corner of the hall, eyes following Rem’s motions. It wasn’t laziness—Ram told herself—but delegation. After all, wasn’t it natural that the better-suited one handled the heavier labor?

Still, her thoughts drifted elsewhere. To their new guest.

That boy. That strange, irritatingly suspicious boy who Emilia-sama had dragged back with her as though it were nothing.

Ram’s lips pursed. She remembered last night.


---

The previous night

Ram had been sitting in her room, hunched slightly over a stack of dull reports Roswaal had left for her. Pages filled with notes about supply chains, contacts, and trivial bookkeeping matters. Things Rem could have written just as well, but no—this had been her burden.

The reports were finished—tedious though they were.

She gathered the papers neatly and, satisfied, made her way down the corridor toward her chambers.

Her eyelids felt heavy, her body longing for rest.

The thought of her bed made her shoulders sag with the faintest flicker of relief.

At last, she slid her door open—

And froze.

Her room was gone.

In its place stretched row upon row of bookshelves, towering and endless, the scent of old parchment thick in the air. At the center of it, seated primly in a pink dress that looked as though it belonged on a doll rather than a person, was the Great Spirit herself.

Ram’s reaction was immediate. She straightened her back, lowered her eyes, and bowed. “Beatrice-sama.”

Beatrice regarded her coolly, tapping one small finger against her arm. “Ram, in fact. You are late.”

Ram masked her unease, voice steady. “…I was unaware you had claimed my room as your domain, Beatrice-sama.”

“Hmph.” The spirit tilted her chin, butterfly eyes glimmering faintly. “Your room, my library, what difference does it make? All that matters is that I was here. And now you are, as well.”

The silence stretched. Ram’s gaze flicked once over the endless bookshelves before returning to the spirit. “…Does Beatrice-sama have need of me?”

Beatrice sniffed. “That irritating man. Subaru, was it? He wandered in earlier, disturbing my peace under the excuse of looking for a toilet,of all things. Hmph. Truly an incomprehensible guest, I suppose.”

''So he is awake...'' Ram thought as her lips tightened and eyes narrowed. “Did he trouble you?”

“More than he should have. Sighing at my books, prattling with those lifeless eyes. A most unpleasant guest. But…”

Her tone softened slightly, though her eyes narrowed. “He is not ordinary. He smells of many things that should not exist in this world. It is… irritating. Dangerous, even.”

Ram’s hands folded neatly in front of her, though her chest tightened. “…So my suspicions were not baseless.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Beatrice turned, skirts rustling as she drifted away toward the shelves. “But his presence unsettles me, slightly. That is reason enough to keep your eyes sharp, in fact.”

Ram bowed low, her voice sharp and unwavering. “As you command, Beatrice-sama.”

The spirit gave no answer and closed the door.

And when Ram finally opened up the door, her chamber was once more a chamber—bookshelves gone, the Great Spirit vanished.

---

Ram sipped the last of her tea, eyes narrowing at the memory.

Yes. She had been correct to doubt him. And if Beatrice-sama herself voiced unease… then Roswaal-sama needed to be informed.

Her gaze flicked briefly toward Rem, still polishing with quiet devotion. Ram’s tone was calm when she muttered aloud:

“…That boy will be trouble.”

Rem blinked, pausing mid-motion. “…Onee-sama?”

Ram said no more.

After the chores were done,

Ram and Rem informed Emilia-sama that their “guest” was awake.

Together, the twins made their way down the corridor toward Subaru’s chamber.

What is an Animorph…? Ram thought to herself, her expression as composed as ever. What does that even mean?

She shook her head slightly, unwilling to waste too much effort puzzling over his nonsense. Beside her, Rem walked in silence until, after a moment’s hesitation, she spoke.

“…Onee-sama. Can we trust him?”

The two of them slowed, pausing mid-step.

“That,” Ram said at last, her voice even but touched with a rare note of uncertainty, “is yet to be seen.”

They resumed their pace, footsteps soft against the polished floor. Before long, they arrived at the chamber of their so-called guest.

With a glance exchanged between them, the twins opened the door.

---

The sound of the latch clicked softly as the door eased open. Morning light filtered into the room, spilling across the unfamiliar figure sitting on the bed.

Natsuki Subaru.

Ram’s sharp eyes immediately took in the details: his posture, his clothing — the robe they had dressed him in — and the strange metallic band clasped to his wrist. He didn’t move like a patient recovering from wounds. No, his gaze was steady, almost… calculating.

Rem lingered half a step behind her sister, hands folded neatly in front of her apron. Her blue eyes searched Subaru’s face for an answer that wasn’t there.

The ''Guest'' tilted his head, his black hair slightly messy from sleep — though there was little drowsiness in his expression. If anything, he looked… expectant.

Ram broke the silence first, her tone calm, practiced, and faintly edged:

“…You are awake, guest.”

The Stranger Guest gave a half-smile, raising a hand in lazy acknowledgment. “Morning. Guess the two of you are the ones who dressed me up, huh? Should I be saying thanks or calling for a lawyer?”

Rem blinked in confusion. Ram’s expression didn’t change, though a faint pulse flickered in her temple.

“We made certain you would not remain in tattered rags, that is all,” she replied coolly. “Do not mistake our duties for hospitality.”

“Yeah, yeah,” The foreigner guest said, waving it off with mock solemnity. “You’ve got the whole stern maid routine nailed down, though. Respect.”

Ram ignored the jab. Instead, she studied him in silence, turning over the unfamiliar word Emilia-sama had repeated two days prior.

Animorph.

What does that truly mean? A knight of some foreign land? A mercenary? Or something worse?

Before she could press the thought further, Rem finally spoke, her voice soft but firm.

“Emilia-sama said you saved her. That you fought the assassin, even after The swird saint had intervened.”

The Black haired guest shrugged, as though the memory weighed little. “Guess you could say that. It wasn’t exactly voluntary hero work, though. Just… timing.”

Ram narrowed her eyes.

The room grew heavier, the quiet hanging between them like an unsheathed blade.

Then Subaru leaned back against the wall, breaking it with a casual sigh. “Relax. I’m not here to cause trouble. Well—at least not before breakfast.”

Rem’s eyes sharpened. Ram’s lips pressed together.

Neither twin was convinced.

The air was thick with suspicion. Silence pressed against the walls like a third presence.

Their guest — this Subaru, whatever he was — let out another sigh, heavier this time. His dull, unblinking eyes shifted between the two maids.

“…Guess we got off on the wrong talon,” he muttered, the odd phrasing slipping out as naturally as breath. Then, almost theatrically, he straightened his back. “Where are my manners?”

His eyes, for just a flicker, seemed to catch the morning light, dullness giving way to something sharper, more alive. He placed a hand lightly to his chest.

“Natsuki Subaru,” he said. “That’s my name. You can think of this as… a branch of trust, if you want.”

Ram’s gaze narrowed. They had known his name since Emilia-sama had spoken it, yet he had noticed they hadn’t bothered to ask. A detail too sharp for someone who feigned carelessness.

His eyes lingered on them, expectant. “And you two? Or is it a state secret?”

The twins exchanged a brief glance. Rem opened her mouth, but the sound never came.

Knock, knock.

The wooden rapping was crisp, measured. The latch turned a moment later, and the door eased open.

Light spilled in around silver hair.

“Good morning,” Emilia said, her voice carrying that gentle warmth that never seemed to dim.

Their gloomy guest face twitched — a flicker of something raw flashing across his features. Surprise? Recognition? It was gone in an instant, replaced again by that same dull mask he wore like armor.

“…Oh. It’s you.”

Ram caught it. Rem caught it.

And neither maid liked it.



A/N:

Yes, yes, yes. I know you all miss me.

It's been a month i had a writing block that didn't help the situation.

(Also sorry that it took 3 days to give this chapter after saying that i would update last week).

Outside of my break after being assaulted.

My biggest problem to deal with was how to start the chapter without making it boring, i know that it was a lot of talking.

Anyways my actual opinion outside of the writing ✍️.

I found Ram to be the better pov character of the twins, just because she’s less likely to be emotionally reckless, unless in affect her deeply and also didn't want to spoiler.

Hope i portrayed Beatrice correctly.

Also the Re:Zero comments i would love, if you didn't spoil many things to my Animorphs audience, or if ur a mix of both to also do the same thing, please.

I wanted these characters reaction to differ, to contrast Subaru behavior in the earlier chapters, and how he acts more often like this more logical and (seemingly) emotionless state.

I would like to hear your opinions on this chapter.

I Also wanted to inform you that i have a patreon now!

If you’d like to support the story and help me write more, you know where to find me.
Early access, worldbuilding docs, and exclusive extras:
patreon.com/Hollow12

Chapter Text

Chapter 15: Exercise in...


Emilia noticed it.

That flicker in his expression, brief but unmistakable. As though seeing her wasn’t merely unexpected, but unsettling. Did he think she would abandon him back at the loot house? Or was it… because of her own foolishness?

She still winced at the memory of blurting Satella. A mistake that clung to her like a shadow — one she knew she’d regret for the rest of her life.

And the way he had dealt with the robbers… Emilia tried not to dwell on it. There had been something frighteningly decisive in his movements. Something that didn’t belong to a simple bystander caught up in misfortune.

But she pushed the thoughts away, smoothing her expression into the practiced composure of someone who refused to falter. A teasing smile touched her lips as she stepped further into the room.

“…Oh. It’s you,” she said lightly, echoing his dull words back at him. “That’s all you have to say, after someone saves your life?”

The maids’ ears pricked. Even they seemed curious now.

Subaru blinked rapidly, his narrowed eyes sharpening with confusion. “I—was just surprised to see you walk in, that’s all.”

Emilia’s smile wavered, softening into guilt. “Then… forgive me. I wasn’t of much use in that fight. If anything, I was more of a burden.”

The twins exchanged a glance, clearly intrigued. Emilia hadn’t given them more than a passing explanation of what had happened. Only that they had crossed paths with the Bowel Hunter.

But she remembered. Oh, she remembered.

Rom’s pained groans, blood staining his shoulder. Felt's distant face flashing through her thoughts. The sound of metal clashing, of Subaru fighting with a desperation that was raw, wild, and utterly human.

She could still see the Bowel Hunter’s blade. The way it cut. The way it nearly ended everything.

But Subaru shook his head, pointing at his eye — whole now, but once marred. “You weren’t useless. Honestly, if you’d tried to step in more, it probably would’ve been worse. We’d both be dead.”

The bluntness of it hung heavy.

Emilia’s chest tightened, but instead of tears, a small laugh escaped her. Quiet, shaky — but real. Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was the lingering terror of that battle. Or maybe it was relief that this strange, reckless boy — her first friend in so long — was still alive to speak so matter-of-factly.

She laughed, and for the first time since that night, the weight in her chest felt just a little lighter.


Emilia’s laughter died down as quickly as it had come, though the echo of it still lingered in her chest. When she glanced at the maids, she caught the brief flickers in their expressions.

Ram’s sharp eyes narrowed just slightly, a faint crease of disapproval on her brow. Rem, on the other hand, looked… almost surprised. As if Emilia’s laughter was something rare, something she wasn’t supposed to share with anyone but them.

(Also—Rem, Ram, and Rom? Lugunica really needed to stop recycling names. It was confusing.)

Still, their gazes reminded her of something important. She wasn’t close with the maids. Their duty bound them to her, yes, but more often than not, it was a relationship defined by hierarchy and responsibility — not warmth. Not friendship.

Which made the way Subaru looked at her — as if she weren’t Emilia the half-elf, candidate, or master of the maids — sting all the more.

“Thank you again, Subaru,” she said quietly, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. “Even after I gave you the cold shoulder…” She winced. “…Pun not intended.”

His lips quirked faintly. He only nodded, as if it wasn’t worth making a fuss over. “Don’t sweat it. I was really just chasing my wallet, anyway.”

Emilia tilted her head. She didn’t quite believe that. His eyes told a different story — tired, yes, but not greedy.

She let the moment pass and turned toward the window. Light spilled across the room, warm and golden, as she unlatched it. A fresh breeze drifted in, carrying the scent of morning dew.

“Why don’t we take a stroll?” she offered, half expecting him to decline.

But Subaru nodded once again, slow but deliberate, as if even weariness couldn’t smother that restless spirit of his.

“Well, that’s that then,” Emilia said with a soft smile. “Get dressed. I’ll wait outside.”

She left the room, the twins silently falling into step behind her.


---

When they stepped outside some minutes later, Subaru trailed at her side, his jacket discarded — too tattered to wear. The rest of his outfit was the same as the first time they met. It made him look more like a traveler than a knight or mercenary.

And yet…

Her eyes fell on the way he rummaged through his robe. She tilted her head in mild curiosity until at last he pulled out a small case.

His wallet.

Emilia blinked. For a wallet, it was oddly shaped — a neat square instead of the usual rounded pouch. The material gleamed faintly in the light. And most striking of all…

Blue.

A wallet. In blue.

Emilia’s eyes widened before she quickly looked away, trying not to stare.

Was he… rich? Like Roswaal? Or maybe the son of some minor noble who had run away from home?

He had claimed to be poor, but… no one who was truly poor carried something like that.

No one had blue and was poor.

Emilia couldn’t help it anymore. Her eyes kept flicking back to that blue square in his hand as they strolled along the garden path.

Finally, she folded her hands behind her back and tilted her head toward him, her silver hair catching the sunlight.

“…Subaru,” she began softly, “may I ask you something?”

He glanced up, one brow raised.

She nodded toward the wallet. “That looks… very unusual. Most people carry leather pouches, not little blue boxes. Is it some kind of noble’s item?” Her lips curled in a faint smile, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Don’t tell me you were lying about being poor.”

For a moment, Subaru just looked at her. Those dark, tired eyes blinked once, twice… then he casually flipped the wallet open with one hand and held it out for her to see.

“Nothing that fancy,” he said with a shrug. “Just a wallet. See?”

Inside were strange little slips of paper, some decorated with colors she didn’t recognize, and a few coins — but not Lugunican coins.

Emilia blinked, caught off guard. “Those aren’t… any currency I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah,” Subaru muttered, tucking it back into his robe. “Wouldn’t spend here even if I wanted to.”

His tone was casual — almost too casual. Like a man who had rehearsed brushing off questions he didn’t want to answer.

Still, that glimmer in his eye made Emilia wonder.

If he truly was poor… then how did he have something like that?

And if he wasn’t… then who exactly was Natsuki Subaru?

---
“It is,” Emilia replied simply, though the half-elf’s curiosity lingered. “What were you doing?”

“Radio calisthenics. Just warm-up exercises, you know? Wake up your muscles, keep them loose. I figure I run and fight better without a cramp.” Subaru’s tone was lighter now, less dry, and his narrow eyes seemed to hold more life as he spoke.

Emilia’s gaze trailed over his strange postures, then inevitably back to the metallic band around his wrist. She remembered it speaking — a voice that wasn’t his. She really should ask if it was a metia… or maybe even some kind of spirit.

“I’ve been doing them since I was a kid, even after my family and I left Japan for the USA.” His expression softened into something hard to pin down — not sad, not neutral, but touched with a faraway glow. A reminiscing look, perhaps.

“Ja…pan? ‘You Ess Hue?” Emilia repeated carefully, puzzled. Were these foreign cities? Did she miss them in her geography studies? They certainly weren’t on any map she remembered.

Subaru poited at her.

“Bounce on both feet to loosen your body! C’mon, just do what I do!” Subaru suddenly invited her, his voice now bright with sudden energy.

It was weird.

“You must be kidding… That’s just so—” Emilia hesitated, but at the last second, resolved herself to mimic his strange rhythm.

Together, they bounced in place, arms swinging, bodies moving in sync. From the corner of her eye, Emilia caught a flash of blonde curls and pink ribbons — Beatrice, spying on them from the window. The spirit watched with narrowed eyes, more curious than willing to approach.

“Now, raise both arms and shout, ‘Victory’!” Subaru declared, throwing his hands skyward.

“V-Victory!” Emilia echoed, cheeks warm.

“Victory!” another voice chimed in, and a small grey cat leapt from her hair, paws stretched.

“Hi, Jean! Good morning!” Puck beamed.

“Hey, Puck, glad to see you’re okay! I genuinely thought you were dead, and my real name's Subaru” Subaru replied without hesitation. “It’s been a chaotic morning for me, but seeing you two alright makes it… well, an alright day.”

“You make it sound as though you live in constant danger,” Emilia giggled, unaware of how close to the truth she had wandered.

Subaru had a far off look. Before just grunting.

Puck tilted his head. “Beatrice told me you fell into one of her tricks. Still, you saved Lia so many times yesterday. From tracking the thief to fending off that assassin. I can never repay you enough, but if there’s anything you need, and it’s within my power, I’ll grant it!”

“Well, I’d ask to pet you forever, but… there’s a lot on my mind right now.” Subaru’s lips curved into a wry smile. “Can I hold onto that favor and cash it in later?”

“Sure, no problem!” Puck agreed cheerfully, sensing no malice in him. “It’s okay, Lia, I don’t feel a single evil thought from him.”

“The nickname ‘Lia’ is adorable, by the way,” Subaru added dryly.

“Not as good as your ‘Emilia-tan’!” Puck teased back. ''How the eye doing?"

''Fine, how's the time limit doing furball, nearly died there while you were taking a nap, you talking furball!" Subaru retorted poiting at his eye.

''Atta boy, all that energy to complain and the assassin still lived, shoddy work, if i say so'' Puck scoffs sarcastically.

''Well you know where you can shot your shoddy work? Up your b-"

They continued bickering.

“You really are odd, Subaru,” Emilia said, amused by how easily he treated her great spirit like any other friend.

Emilia felt her cheeks warm from laughing with Subaru, something she hadn’t done in… far too long. But before she could dwell on it, the air shifted.

“Emilia-sama.” The twin maids appeared at the doorway, cutting into their small circle. “Roswaal-sama has returned. Please come inside.”

As if summoned by name, Beatrice also descended into the fray, her sharp little voice cutting into Subaru. “I watched your whole pathetic display from upstairs, and I must say, you are really an absurd man, I suppose.”

Subaru only sighed, rolling his eyes. “Geez, even the gothic Lolita has it out against me…”

“W-what does that even mean?! Your made-up words irritate me!” Beatrice snapped, cheeks puffed out.

Emilia pressed her lips together, struggling not to giggle again. It was… odd, watching them bicker like children.

“Just because you’ve never heard them doesn’t mean I made them up,” Subaru dryly shot back. “Besides, all words are made up.”

“You—!” Beatrice bristled, only for her attention to be stolen when Puck bounded into her arms.

“Betty! Four days already?”

“Bubby! I missed you! Will you stay with me today, I wonder?”

“Of course!” Puck leapt into her arms.

“Hehe, yay!” Beatrice spun with him, delighted.

The shift was immediate. She spun in delighted circles with him, cooing like she’d forgotten Subaru even existed.

Emilia stole a glance at Subaru, who looked both slightly annoyed and left out. She hid her smile behind her hand.

Lack of reaction or not, he really did bring chaos wherever he went.

But then…

“My, my! How unusual to see you here, Beatrice. I’m so happy that you decided to dine with me.”

The voice was smooth, lilting, and unnervingly theatrical. Emilia turned with the others, and there he was — Roswaal.

Roswaal in his extravagant, multicolored garb, half his face painted in elegant layers, a smile stretching unnaturally as though carved there.

“I’m not here for that moronic fool, if that’s what you are asking,” Beatrice huffed, glaring Subaru’s way before smothering Puck with affection again.

Subaru, of course, stared with his usual bluntness and muttered to Emilia, “So… where’s the party? What did you hire a clown for?”

Emilia’s heart leapt into her throat.

The maids froze, their polite masks cracking into open rage. Her own words caught in her chest. Subaru!

“Oh, no, this is quite alright, Emilia-sama,” Roswaal’s voice rang out like silk draped over steel, as if nothing could offend him.

But Emilia saw Subaru’s eyes narrow, just slightly. The way he studied Roswaal — not with awe, not with confusion, but with something sharp, as though he were measuring him.

And Roswaal, in turn, let his mismatched eyes rest on the boy. A smile widened, patient, serpentine.

“My name is Roswaal L. Mathers, lord of this ma~nor, Natsuki Subaru.”

Emilia’s fingers curled against her skirt. She could almost feel it — two presences meeting, one flamboyant and calculated, the other dull-eyed yet unpredictable.

This could go badly… very badly.

A/N: Well the die cast.

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