aiko's otter den

red as the blood you didn't shed - Your name, a long time ago, was Frisk. AU.

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6. VI

“Howdy!” greets the void. “It’s me, Flowey! Thanks for being dumb as a box of rocks! Without you, I’da never been able to get past that old coot! And here was me thinkin’ if I dangled your little girlfriend around I’d have just made you kill him! It’s good to know you’re just an idiot.”

You don’t speak. Rage has left you muted.

“Now I’ve got all the human SOULS. And they’re all wriggling!” Flowey giggles. Chara hisses. “She acts like she can do something with her dirty, ugly SOUL.”

Your fists clench.

Flowey notices and cackles. “You’re feeling left out, aren’t you? Aw! Don’t worry, your pal Flowey has just the thing for you! Once I take your soul, I’ll have all I need to become God.”

I have never wanted to not believe in a higher power so much in my life, says Chara with a thick voice. As if they’re feeling betrayed. As if they have lost something precious like an eye or a heart piece.

You nod once.

Flowey says something. It doesn’t scare you. Nothing scares you now. Your worst fear has come to pass.

There are things you fear more than death.

You decide in this moment to become one of those things.

You step forward.

Flowey pauses. “What… you think you can stop ME?”

You stare up.

“You really are an idiot.”

Your knife burns red in the darkness.

Something emerges from the void. With strange teethed mouths, twisted eyes, pipes, and a screen that dwarfs you, it smiles at you, and the eyes open and turn red.

It… laughs.

You smile back.

And hell unleashes itself upon you both.

You dodge. There is no reason to hold back. There is no reason to pause. You run and dodge and fight. Everything you’ve done to live a thousand thousand times before, you pull out of you. It does little. It feels like nothing.

But Chara is with you, and you have nothing to fear in this world, in this universe, in this life.

You will become more terrifying than death.

You promise Rachel this. You promise her SOUL. You promise yourself.

Then the screen changes. It flickers, glows, a cyan blue heart floating on screen.

And suddenly you are pulled from your body, yourself, your SOUL popping into —

These ruins are cold and dry. There is only grass, and it’s not helping. You have your knife, but it can’t cut anything. You’re forced to rip up the leaves for water and steal from the candy jar. But it gets harder. Your legs get heavier. So you stop. You wait.

It’s easier to do things like that. You’ve always been waiting after all. Waiting for a love that won’t come, waiting for new bandages, waiting for people to slip up and fall so you can take their place. Waiting for the bus that takes you away from one place to another.

It’s easy to wait for the feeling to fade in your mouth, for the strength to come back to your legs. You’ve called for help, you’re sure someone will come.

You’re sure.

You’re sure you can rest. Nothing has hurt you here. In fact they all look at you with horror and fear. And you don’t know why.

You don’t know.

You’re cold.

You’re cold.

It hurts. It hurts.

You wait for it to stop. You wait and you wait. And you wait.

Then warm fingers close over your own and you lift your head.

You are met with eyes full of fire, like a hearth blossoming from their body into yours. Except… you don’t have a body.

You’re dead. You died waiting. You died waiting for something that would never have come for you, for someone who had never bothered to look for you.

And somehow that hurts more than the act of dying.

Help me, they say to you. You hesitate, because no one helped you. No one cared for you. That’s why you’re down here.

The vivid eyes do not look away from you. They are bruised, you realized, bruised skin like overripe peaches, blood on their mouths and tracks down their eyes. I will care about you, they tell you. I care about you. I just wish I could have cared about you sooner. I think… if you were with me, it would have been less lonely. Or not lonely at all.

You waver. You swallow. Because you feel the same way, and maybe you always have. You promise?

I promise.

You are warm with life. You reach into your pocket with sudden strength, and wrap your ribbon up into their hair.

Kick his butt, you tell them. They smile and gently, ever gently, tug you to them. You meet a person with red eyes who grins.

It’s nice, isn’t it?

It shouldn’t make you laugh, but you laugh.

And, body thrumming, you’re launched back into the fray of battle, dodging blows and striking small swipes of your knife that is humming a steady blue color now. You don’t question it. You simply keep on.

You fight.

You FIGHT.

The orange soul gleams brightly on screen, burning like a sun and —

You punch another monster and crow out a laugh. You don’t mean it of course. You don’t really want to hurt them, but you’re not scared either. What’s there to be scared of? They’re walking, talking dust bunnies! And they’re obsessed with you.

You’re not tired either. You can keep going all day and night.

Except that… it’s getting cold now. Your clothes are wet. You are getting just a bit hungry. You haven’t tried to buy anything from people. You don’t really want to fight innocent shopkeepers after all.

You’re starting to flag a little, fists clenched.. Your gloves are tearing a bit at the knuckles. There is yelling behind you and in front of you. You trip and fall. You trip and a spear reaches your face and —

Someone grabs it. They are paler than you and panting, and they look at you with red-gold eyes. I wish I could have done this for real, they say, and you realize you have no fists to throw punches or clothes to be wet. You have nothing. There’s nothing left of you.

Despite this, you do manage to smile. You tie your bandanna around their neck. No fuss buddy, you say and you mean it. Just get the big guy trying to get upstairs for me, ok?

They nod to you and you —

Feel your SOUL shoved in one direction. Like you’ve been loaded somewhere.

Bastard, shouts Chara and the orange SOUL together. But you move anyway. You are still not afraid, and your knife is now orange and cyan and bright bright red.

This is a lot though. It’s getting hot. Your blood is slick and tacky on your palm.

And there’s another pull. You’re ready for it. You fall —

Into the mud. You swing yourself about, kicking up with all of your strength. It’s harder in the muddy ground and pouring rain, but you manage.

You manage another blow and you can’t help it. You laugh. You laugh until you cry and you splash into the water. You are wrong, you are all wrong. No one will help you here. No one will save you. You have done too many bad things. There is nothing that can be done for you.

They are chasing you. You leap off of the bank and you dodge the echo flowers and you fight and fight and fight —

And then you meet nothing but air and you fall.

They catch you, with fire in their eyes and a sad smile on their face, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve still fallen. You’ve still crashed into the ground. You are still bleeding out and dying, coated in dust. You will not run from this. You will not scream or cry or flee. You do not falter. You are dying here, you have died here.

I promise I won’t let this be how it ends, says the child with the fire eyes. You’ll get something better.

Not if you don’t win, you tell them, and remove your ballet flats. You swap shoes and then you’re sucked in. There are —

Three others inside of you now, along with Chara. You are finding more strength to stand again. You dodge. You fight. You fight you fight with all that you have nd some of what they have and it feels so warm. You feel not alone. You feel… light.

You get the sense that Flowey is still laughing at you.

He’s so weird, you can’t help but think through the hellish rain of death on your shoulders. This can’t be all there is.

He’s an idiot, Chara reminds you. Focus.

You do and you get pulled —

Into an endurance match. The old turtle cackles at you as you hide and scramble behind boulders, as the ghosts box you in. I warned you to purchase carefully, kid, he tells you, not unkindly, but still wheezing laughing as the spiders come and come and come, running over you. You squish one when you fall and they all scream.

The head spider swoops down, smiling her rage, hurting in pain, hurtling and hurtling. Spider after spider, dried food after dried food, baked goods, sweet smells.

Your glasses are covered in dust.

Your hands are grey with it.

My pet is hungry, she coos at you. You’re just in time for breakfast!

You try to run. You call for help —

Nothing happens.

You decide to endure it. It’s all endurable. You have extra moments. If you just keep looking, keep pushing. You will find the way out. It’s forward!

The teeth of the spider reach your leg. It gives out immediately, slack, and you fall. You crawl, kicking with your other leg, you crawl and you —

Call for help again.

Two arms pull you away before another snap of the jaws. You meet fire eyes and a sad smile. You meet their gaze evenly because all of a sudden you know —

They ate me.

The fire eyes nodded. I’m sorry.

I didn’t want to give up.

You didn’t.

You find yourself smiling. You find yourself warm again. You press your glasses onto their face. You can’t give up either, then.

They nod at you and you slip and fall.

The cyan soul nudges you into place beside them and you are —

In motion, flurrying in it, the dagger is sharper than ever and you are fighting. It’s so little damage, so little, but you’ve realized that’s how you’ve lost before. The attacks seem sudden, but they aren’t. It’s over time, little scrapes. Beating someone in one blow is something else. Everyone, everyone, must push a bit more every day.

The bullets fly, the missiles fall but you are not afraid of the death around you, you are not afraid of the death in you.

You are burning up with —

Fear. Pain. You run, you run, you run. You clutch your burnt pan in your hands. Cast-iron, good work, strong metal. You’d never thought, you’d never imagined it could be such a useful weapon. A shield even. It didn’t work against every spear, but as long as your feet could run, as long as you can spin, you can block.

She follows you. The Monster follows you.

They’re all monsters here, and they’re all intent on killing you. But this one really can.

So you fight back, of course. You’re small and starving, but you’ve always been fast and clever, always known where knives go and places to hide and how to hold your breaths quiet. You have always known. You’ve known the difference between honey and vinegar and it’s saved you before. You’re under the awareness now that, well, there are people that don’t care which is which.

You swing out and the yellow spear that had curved around to your blind side flies home and the monster following you screams. You are weighted down by your arms and the pan, but you flee anyway. A spear hits you in the back as the monster screams its rage again but you keep running. You have to run. It feels like your skin is melting.

Another spear, a dead end, and the clanking armor approaches.

Another spear —

They deflect it, a child made of fire, smaller than you. They look at you with a set expression, the fire weary but burning, and you don’t know why. The pan falls from your hands. You feel light.

Then again, that may be because you don’t have hands.

Ah, you understand now.

She’s not so bad, they tell you. She’d have liked you. Like one of her heroes.

If I was a hero, I’d have lived. You tell them before you can stop yourself. You shift. She’ll die if I don’t help huh?

Everyone will die, they tell you, solemn. Or have already died. I don’t know. I think we can fix it.

I see. You swallow, because really, what do you have to lose? You’re already dead. You look like you could use some help. But I expect to get something back, got it?

They smile. It’s sad. Sure, they say. Let’s meet again and I’ll pay you back.

You stand with light feet and walk around them. You untie your apron from your front and tie it to their back.

You look like the lamest superhero ever, you say. But every hero needs to look the part.

They tilt their head and you —

Sink into a colorful void.

One left, says cyan. She’s noisy.

Won’t shut up, agrees indigo. They bob at each other as if in disbelief.

You’re not surprised at this. This is Rachel. Rachel always has something to say, something to teach. She’s never been much of a fighter, but she’s always been focused on something, even if that something isn’t you. Even if that something is the sky.

You think you understand her better now.

Another round of missiles and monsters. Another rasping distorted laugh. He hasn’t talked much during this, the thing that Flowey’s become, too busy attacking you and using SAVE files of his own. Maybe it takes him more concentration. You’re not sure. Or maybe he’s been talking and you don’t care. Whatever it is, it’s not important.

Rachel is waiting for you for once. You call out to her and you —

Hit the next safe spot running, rolling into an undergrowth. No one’s been chasing you for a while, except for that thing. That flower. That monster that cackles after you. It’d offered you friendliness pellets and you’d dodged, you’d fled. It’d laughed after you crying,

You’re sure smart unlike that other kid!

Bam, you think. Bam is here. You’d not been able to find him, you’d looked everywhere in the cave and then on, only to realize —

You’d not left him with anything, in your haste to return before you were caught again. You hadn’t thought about it because he was rarely hungry, rarely thirsty. He often found his own food and water, somehow. He always eats when you do but you never get the sense he actually has to. You haven’t questioned how because he was always waiting for you to return.

Had that flower killed him? Impossible. That could never happen. Bam couldn’t die, not now, not when you still needed him, not when he still smiled so brightly at you like you were —

Someone. A light. A shining star.

You run and you run and you reach —

Her. Fear fills your guts and you raise your hands and the one weapon you always keep with you just in case and she just hugs you tightly. You poor child, she says. You must have been so afraid. It’s all right. I’ll look after you.

You want to twist and jerk away because it’s another monster, it could kill you, it could kill you and then you’ll never find Bam or see the stars but her hand runs through your hair and it’s just like Arlene but better and you can’t help but fall apart because you are scared, you are so so so scared and you just want your friend back and you don’t know where he is.

She feeds you and it’s warm unlike their other food, it’s warm and filling and through that you tell her about Bam and her eyes light up.

Yes, that child passed through here, she says. They were very insistent on going through, they said they had to get back as soon as possible to not worry someone. They’re likely in Snowdin now, I imagine.

Your stomach lurches. You. He was looking for you. You need to go to him. Before something happens.

The woman looks at you imperiously. You court danger if you go.

You know that. You know that but…

You have never felt brave. You have never felt strong. You just want what belongs to you. That’s all you’ve ever wanted. If anything, you’ve felt like none of those things but… He’s all I have, you say instead of those ugly ugly feelings.

She looks at you and nods. Then, it would be remiss of me not to join you.

You smile in relief.

The smiling is short-lived. You’re separated by vines, thick and weighty. You follow her directions until you stumble and fall.

It hurts. Your ankle drags. It hurts.

You, says the flower. It’s no longer giddy, no longer happy. It looks at you with irritation. Why do they only look at you?

You whimper in pain.

You’re useless, sneers the flower. You’re ugly. You’re no good, you don’t even care, why do they only look at you? I WAS HERE FIRST!

The stones shake with the shriek. It pants.

I don’t even know why I care, it grumbles when it catches its breath. Can flowers breathe?. You’re just a stupid human. You can’t even kill anyone. You’re worthless! Why do they care? I can kill people. You can’t even kill monsters with a gun. I can prove they were right all along. I can FIGHT. What can you do, you stupid girl? Nothing! Just be a power source!

You hate these words. You hate them. You’re not chosen. You’re not special. They’re not true, it’s not true, it’s not. You can, you will, you—

Then it smiles at you and your thoughts drain from your head because you know that smile. It’s worse than Arlene’s ever was, worse than the fake stars in the fake sky, because it is very real and he will kill you. This thing is about to kill you. You’re about to die. You don’t want to die.

I know, he says, like a child on holiday mornings. I’ll bring them your body. That will show them how little you matter. That will show them they’re mine! Mine first. Mine only. And don’t worry! Your SOUL will be used for greater things. But just to be sure, I’ll —

K-I-L-L Y-O-U A-S S-L-O-W-L-Y A-N-D P-A-I-N-F-U-L-L-Y A-S I C-A-N!

And your world is now an unending pain. You think you will break. You think the tiny stems won’t harm you, that the leaves won’t make you bleed. You think the teeth won’t rise from the green flowers, you think and you think and —

Fire scorches the vines away. The thing doesn’t stop, but you can’t feel it. You are staring up at Bam, who is in front of you, arms outstretched, blocking them all.

I’m still dead, you tell him, oddly calm. You don’t know why you’re calm. You want to be angry with him, with everyone. You want to hit him and call him an idiot. You want to scold him and tell him many things. But you’re calm.

I know, says Bam. He doesn’t look embarrassed or upset, or guilty. He just looks at you with fire in his eyes and a sad look, an expression that seems to know more than you can comprehend. I’m sorry. For everything. I… I must have sounded like this once.

A little, you say, but the other words bubble up in your throat. But I’ve left you hungry, so.

I think I can save you, he says, ignoring that, looking at you still, like you’re the new one here. Please help me just a bit longer, Rachel. I think I’ll be able to save you and everyone else.

He holds out his hand to you and you think of him, lost looking and alone in the shadows of the cave. You think of the word monster rung in your ears like a bell.

You take his hand and you are pulled down down down —

And you settle. The six — seven — of them, settle within you, clinging on and on and on — and your knife is burning with them.

You feel them, how much they’d wanted to live. How much they’d done, how much they hadn’t. How much they’d wanted. How much they’d hoped and dreamed.

And your knife burns brighter, pulls longer, like a sword.

A hero’s weapon, says orange.

They’re not much of a hero, green protests.

They’re alive and we’re not, cyan says with infinite patience. We’re going along with it.

Chara says something, a prayer soft and discordant.

Can’t leave your roots either, says indigo.

Could you, asks purple, who gets a scoff.

Hurry, says yellow simply. Make him pay.

You are filled with determination.

You dodge and cut and stab and pierce. You’ve done this before, you realize, a thousand thousand times, a hundred slices. And it feels like the first every time.

Because you love, chorus the SOULs. You don’t LOVE.

Ah, that is it. Suddenly Sans makes sense. You throw yourself forward.

But it doesn’t feel right. His defenses are low, though his attacks are growing more frantic. The six pipes that hold -held— the six souls are dark but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Something is coming.

He is waiting for something.

He is waiting.

And then, when the shining knife is glimmering high and you make the final blow, he starts panicking.

“No!” He shouts.

“No!”

You brace yourself.

“This can’t be happening! It — you —”

He grins madly and his wounds fade away.

And you die.

And you live.

And you die.

And you live.

Over and over. The pain is immeasurable. Over and over you die. Over and over you’re brought back. And Flowey laughs the whole time.

You don’t cry out. You don’t make a sound. The SOULs rage.

A sliver of life pulses in your skin and soul and bullets surround you.

“Did you really think you could stop me?” Flowey cackles. “I am the GOD of this world.”

You smile through bloody teeth and with fire eyes. “The stars are prettier than god then,” you say.

The SOULs inside you start laughing, a tad hysterical.

“You’re just helpless and alone!” spews Flowey. “Go on, call for help! Who will come for you? No one! I KILLED THEM ALL!”

You continue to smile. Because you have never been alone. And you never will be. Because of Flowey. Perhaps someday you’ll thank the flower.

“GO ON!” he roars, an edge of hasty fury to it. “Cry out into the darkness! See if anyone will save you!”

You take a deep breath. Chara breathes with you. You both call for help.

There is silence.

“Nobody’s coming,” Flowey says gleefully. “Isn’t that a shame? No one cares about you enough to help! N-O O-N-E I-S H-E-R-E T-O S-E-E Y-O-U D-I-E!”

I’m here, says Chara with the certainty of long death. And you’re not coming out of here dead, Frisk.

You smile softer.

Flowey laughs because he can’t hear. Flowey laughs because he doesn’t understand.

The bullets fire at you, and you heal. Your body is warm. You can see. You raise your knife up, its glowing form clear and bright.

“How’d you—” Flowey stops. “Well, I’ll just —”

Nothing happens.

He tries again. Nothing happens.

“Wh… where are my powers?”

You swing down with all of your might.

Now, shouts Rachel and the SOULs burst free from your knife. The six of them hover in front of you, and you can make out vague forms, vague children, an arm here, a hairstyle there, a smile too proud for words.

The only one remotely clear is Rachel, but that’s only because you know her.

“The souls?” Flowey croaks.

Hey there, says orange. We don’t like you.

Indigo bobs. Our deaths aren’t your playthings.

Be ready, warns cyan.

Green chortles. This is nothing.

I dunno, says purple. I think we’re pretty something.

Yellow flickers. Be ready, Bam.

You nod.

The SOULS move in frightening tandem. Flowey screams as everything is ripped away, the power, the hope, the joy. All of it is ripped away from him.

The three of you are left in a void with rumbling sounds. He looks pitiful and wilted, weak and small.

You step towards him, and sheathe your knife. You gather up your mercy and you hold it out to him.

He lifts his head and glares at you. “What… what are you doing?” You stare at him. “You really think I’ve learned anything from this? No. I haven’t. So kill me.”

“I don’t care,” you say together. Because this is not enough. It will never be enough.

“Sparing me won’t change anything,” he spits. “Kill me.”

“No,” you say again.

He lifts his head higher. “If you let me live I will come back.”

“I know,” you say.

“I’ll kill you!”

You shrug.

“I’ll kill everyone you love!”

“You’ve already done that.”

“… why?”

You offer mercy again.

“… why are you being so nice to me?”

“Mercy isn’t nice,” you say. “This is not a kindness. I know that, you don’t.”

“I can’t understand.”

“Most people don’t.”

“I can’t understand!”

“That’s okay.”

Flowey runs away.

You exhale. You’ve done it.

This isn’t all of it, says Chara.

You nod. But it’s the two of you together again. Together, you will SAVE them all. You will. You want this feeling back. You want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything.

Until the end, Chara assures you.

Until the end, you agree.

Behind you are the voices of the monsters. Behind you are the voices of a time that is happening, a time that will carry out unhappy. Ahead of you, you can smell sweet grass and flowers, a taste to the air you’ve never felt before and something chilly.

Before you is the unknown. Seeing the unknown, the answers just out of reach, with Chara’s hand atop your own.

The sensations fill you with determination.

You walk into the void, and prepare to Reset, this time, by your own will.

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