//------------------------------// // (17) Mk. C: Soul Temper // Story: A Four Letter Word // by RealityDowngrade //------------------------------// And there it was, the legend of The Binder’s Web right there in the same "story book" that held such legends as The Mirror Pond and The Legend of Nightmare Moon. Said to be capable of trapping the unending powers of love. And, considering how powerful that sort of stuff is in this place, fear should be a walk in the park. But, there was one problem, according to the 'legend', it was held by the monstrous Bog King, which, and he, along with so many other legends, was located somewhere deep within the Everfree Forest. And his castle was protected by the great predators of the swamp, which he held in fealty with his great staff, sinewy pictures of hydras littered the story book, but there were others that neither Pinkamena or Ms. Dash were able to recognize, though both admitted that the Everfree, especially the hydra infested bogs were not well explored, even by Everfree standards. Worse, Bog Castle was said to only reveal itself at the behest of the Bog King himself, which Pinkamena clarified was just a flowery literary trope that probably meant that, in all likelihood, the castle was hidden in it's own pocket dimension, and thus perfectly concealed from any magic probe that didn't know the frequency. And there were a lot of frequencies. And not just of magic, there were countless ways to hide, be it three seconds ahead of the rest of the world, sideways, vibration beyond what the eye could perceive, though I was told that really only worked for smaller things. Then, when Pinkamena began going on about all the different ways one could be purple, Ms. Dash cut her off with an irritated, "Yeah yeah, we get it Pinkie." “Wait,” I said, a stray thought budding through the normally feat-choked haze of information always pouring into my head, "if this place is so impossible to get to, who's the guy-" "Pony," corrected Ms. Dash. "Organic," I frowned, "who wrote the original story?" “Uh,” Ms. Dash said, flipping to the beginning of the story, “huh, no name, just the editor of this story, ugh," she groaned, flipping first to the front, and then to the back, "leave it to an egghead to over-complicate a foal's story. Eh," she paused, reading a few more lines, "someponies up in ... Canterlot, it looks like, did this group of stories from original transcripts and oral translations blah blah blah, look," she said, snapping the book closed, "Twilight's better at this egghead stuff than me, I'm sure she can figure out who we should ask." “Ooooo, and then we can get a hold of a map, imagine,” Pinkamena grinned, "we could all get our own pith hats, and Rarity could finally have the opportunity to make some hoofware and- Oh hi Wayde,” she waved, looking suddenly right. ‘The hell is she look-’ But the thought was sucked out with my breath as golden sand struck into my gut and swept me into it's swirling maw. *** Coughing, bile rising, the ring of golden sand disappeared, leaving my limbs to shake on the cold, wet ground as belief began to flow out of me. I could feel the new fear, it was close, poking into my mind, with nothing substantial for I didn’t care to guess how long, and one of them, God help me, was the one responsible for it. And God only knew when I’d pop back. Hell, it was only the words of Cat, how this person was supposedly calling for my help was the only thing keeping me from rushing out of whatever new ... twisted wooden insides, vaguely tribal looking masks, and colored glass globes with candles shining through on shelves and hanging from netted cords. I’d peg it for Zecora’s if I’d ever actually been inside her actual house. Slowly rolling to my side, I grabbed for one of the twisted wall protrusions and began pulling myself to my feet. Leaning, now, against the wall, my vision beginning to straighten, the ache in my stomach silenced, someone was scared. The Displaced could wait. Stalking forward, vision tunneling, the song of fear continued to ring out in the silence, drowning out the three others. Just around the corner, I found a giant of a man, a human looking man, in white boxers, scars completely crisscrossing across his body in time with straps of white bandaging, and with the most ridiculous black, corn-rowed spikes of hair extending past the back of his head with little bells attached to the ends. His feet hung just over the side of the long, sheet tossed bed, and, atop of him lay a small girl, bad as I am with ages, she couldn’t have been more than twelve, and was snoring, back splayed on the muscles beneath her, and spread out like she was trying to make a snow angel, her eastern looking black and white pajamas only adding to the illusion as her left foot continued twitching, almost comically, beneath the chin of the man. The fear sounded again, stealing my attention back down to the man. Stepping forward, bells at the sides of the man’s head ringing as he turned on his other side, showing off the large black eye-patch on his right eye as the other was smashed closed. But the fear… there was a second fear hide- “Inside?” I whispered, sneering. There was a second seat of fear, a chief fear, trying to squash out the shining, delicious light that was singing out to me, demanding my attention. Thrusting my arm forward, plunging it into the man’s skull, the swirling nightmares within depressed against me, sparking into me a twisted landscape of bone and flesh twisting into limbed trees pulsing with blood up the veins of their fleshy trunks while hand-leaves with unlidded green-grey eyes grabbed uselessly toward the one clearing in the twisted forest as the mountain man, now wearing the same clothing as the little pink-hair girl, but with the sleeves ripped apart, was swinging a chipped-edged sword at a fleeing man, almost a full head shorter, and definitely no less than three weight-classes outclassed, screaming for help. He got it. The trees began throwing their eyes, pelting the smaller man in their haste, but mostly at the larger one. The mountain man batted the slow, wobbling projectiles with ease, lines of his utter boredom chipping away at the nightmare’s integrity, but the smaller man, weaponless as he was, was only able to stumble thanks to the added slickening gore upon the ground, and shine with renewed fear, the head sized eyes swallowing him whole, and then steaming to mush, the whites of the eyes and the black irises thinning, running, and merging between one another until they resembled the mountain’s robes, torn and tattered sleeves and all, and in his hand, the same chipped sword. The mountain man gave a sneer, but by then my own presence was already sweeping across the ruddy hills of the forest ringing them and pulling down the landscape into a lightless flat plain. More fear burst from the small one, the shadows only seconds away from consuming the them both, when the mountain man did something altogether unexpected. He began to radiate ... joy, and, tearing off his eyepatch, a yellow light consumed his body in a crackling aura. And then, with a grin, he let his aura burst, throwing out my shadows, pushing them out of his dream and back into m- Blinking, legs splayed out before me, back now hurting as much as my stomach, I saw the mountain man, now, from the other side of the room. I wasn’t sure if I should be scared or simply in awe, but what little nightmare sand that I could make was already bust spiking into me from the shadow my back made pressed against the wall. The mountain man, John Kenpachi his dreams called him ... I think, grunted, grimacing as a line of ruby blood began to drip from his nose, pooling onto the white pillow beside him. “Oh shhhh,” I grunted up, there was still a child in the room after all, even if she was sleeping. That wasn’t good. ‘Bleeding internally is bad,’ I thought, scrambling forward, ‘and even worse when you're sleeping.’ He’d already hit me out of his dreams already, I went with my gut and tried to place my hands on his shoulders. They didn’t go through. ‘Thank God.’ Planting myself, I did my very best to shake what I could only guess to be one-hundred and fifty pounds of muscle from the waist up, through it could just as well be less for all the good my stunted body was now capable of. Huffing, I growled to the shadows, sending the sand to wrapping around my middle. Sprouting two-pairs of tentacles, two anchoring me to the ground to better bare the weight and the other two to wrap around up and around his armpits, they began to shake him. “Nnnngh,” he growled. ‘Yes!’ I sighed. He was awake, and that meant I could get hel- CRACK!!! Coughing into shadow, flashes of air whistling through my ears and my back screaming as pain consumed it wisped up in a blur of memory. “ – I WON’T LOSE! -” he manages to shouts through the ringing in my ears, even as my shadowed form numbs the pain. Holding my head, the dust settles above me, showing the gaping hole that was the wall of the room inside the jungle tree I was supposed to be in, as the thoughts of whether I should curse the ungrateful speed whore for their ingratitude or marvel at how I hadn’t been turned to paste after crashing through that thick of a wall. Sliding a few feet back, I can see John’s good eye bulging out as it swivels around the surrounding jungle. I snapped my fingers. Nightmares slowly began streaming up from me, clouding into a more ‘substantial’ version of myself. Raising its ‘hands’ up to its chest in a placating manner, it warbled, “Please, your bleeding, we have to get you to a doctor.’ A flash of silver, and an upward burst of sand is all the hint I have that he struck my nightmare. “Are you really this much of a coward! Using cheap tricks like this won’t save you!” he sneers, his eye still wildly searching around him. “Where’d he go?” head jumping from shadow to shadow, “Come on!” he growls, “You wanted to fight so let’s go! Are you really this weak!?” Snapping, again, the fallen pile reformed, and, taking a step back from John and his long sword, it warbled, “No tricks. I woke you up because your head was bleeding. You need a doctor.” He only growls, almost like a chant, as he raises his sword as the yellow aura from the dream engulfs the metal. And then, he swung. The ground roared like thunder, thick chunks of earth rose like dust, as the yellow bolt tore through the forest, the trees cracking like the echoes of the yellow boom before it, to say nothing of my shattered nightmare. The sky briefly darkened, and as the clods fell back down, sounding like rain as they tumbled through the canopy, John spat the dirt from his mouth, then said, “These puppets won’t fool me, now where are you!?” “Right behind you,” I state, a nightmare shaped fist lancing from my shadow, slamming into where I hoped his kidney was. It was no longer a question of whether or not he woke up poorly or if his head was in worse shape than I thought. If he was capable of that, bandaged as he is, I couldn’t let him risk the lives of the others inside with an ill-timed swing. ‘I really hope TV didn’t lie to me about kidney punches.’ “Well that was uncomfortable,” he frowns, twisting to send his free hand around, shattering yet another puppet with ease. “I’m getting real tired of this shit. I swear I will destroy everything in my path to find you if you don’t come out!” he yells, stomping his foot, indenting the dirt floor of the forest. “You got the count of three before I start wrecking shit! ONE!” He wasn’t listening, and I couldn’t risk another of those sword swings, not with that little girl so close. He was too much of a threat. Thrusting out my arm, what little sand I had geysered from below the threat. He grunted, but that’s all the distraction the second stream needs as it fills into his nostrils and past his parted lips. He’ll choke back to unconciousn- “TWO!” he continues to shout, reaching up to my eyepatch. ‘The Hell, not so much as a cough?!? Why isn’t he stopping!!? This isn’t possible!!!’ “THR-” A single cold and unmoving thought fills me: No. The nightmares leap to my command, turning on their flecked edges, and slicing down into what should be his lungs. He coughs, blood spattering to the dirt, and he falls. Quiet. Turning to the house, a coldness grows in my arms, spilling over into my chest and pooling into my stomach, even as the shadows begin to dim it. Sliding across the ground and into the house, a distant part of me wonders how many pieces of wood are splintering into my back. Moving onto the wall, I finally step back into the light. The small pink haired girl was still asleep, none of his actions had managed to hurt her, she even had her thumb in her mouth, all curled up on her side. Small miracles. But that still left me with her and the second dot of fear further into the house. That, and how I was going to -FEAR MOVING- Gasping, the air in my lungs pressing out, the fear, the weakening fear from outside was inside, and it wasn’t so weak anymore. But whatever scent it had was of little concern past the new feeling of cold, physical cold, filling into my chest, mingling with dying spurts of heat. “Gotcha.” He purrs. A part of the cold pulls away from me, letting in a renewed mingling of dying warmth and growing cold as I fall to the floor “You gave me quite the test, but yet, this fight was far from enjoyable. But, I must commend you for your attempt, any last wor-” a pause, “Who the hell are you?” All I can see is floor, I try to breathe, but my chest feels heavy. But, I can’t let my focus slip. If I don’t answer him, if I don’t keep him occupied, he’ll just go into another rage. I have to stay awake long enough to think of something. I try to snap my fingers, but I just can’t get them to rub against each other, the sand still comes, slowly, spelling ‘Wayde Molan’ across the floor. I hate this undead monster, but even the heat of it is tested by the growing cold. “Who the fuck is Wayde Molan? … Wait, you’re Wayde Molan aren't you?” I try to move my arm up, put enough pressure on the wound to give me more time, but my arm won’t move. Can’t risk going to shadow, can’t let him go into another rag- He picks me up, I try to scrape into his back, call the sand, wrap it around my fingers to stab into it, to tear out whatever foul organs keep this abomination alive, but they refuse to come. He places me back down, leaning on the wall in a sitting position, the pain unsettles again, but this time there’s more heat and less cold. Looking up, I see stains of black liquid staining into the white of his bandages as he leaves the room. Now’s my chance, if I can just get up I can save one of- “If you leave now idiot you’re going to bleed out. Just stay still,” he rumbles, crouching down as he starts wrapping some white cloth around my chest, “I’ll get you patched up, then Zecora will fix the rest when she gets back… well after she flips out on me that is,” he grins, crags forming at the corners of his eyes. Mouth dry, it was still hard to breath, but I simply can’t fathom why I’m not dead. You can’t lose this much blood and still be alive. I shouldn’t even be conscious come to think of it, all the same, I can’t question it, if I’m not dying, that means I can save the girl from this psychopath. Again, I try to snap my fingers, my mouth still doesn’t feel right, but still comes, slowly scraping across themselves to spell: Why are you healing me? “Because I want answers.” Failing to snap again, the sand formed a question mark. “I want to know why you tried to jump me in my sleep. Plus, I don’t kill those weaker than me.” ‘Just give me a single night,’ I sneer, through it probably looked little more than a twitch of my lips, as the sand spells: Same as when I told you before. Your head was bleeding. Had to wake you up. Then I could go for help. “My head was bleeding? So that’s why I smelt blood, ha!” ‘The hell is wrong with this freak?’ “I thought you were the one that made me bleed! That’s one of the reasons I thought you were trying to kill me. Well that and the fact you were in the same room as me in the bloody dark, looming over me like some kind of serial killer inspecting his prey before chopping them up and eating them. But the smell of blood was a factor,” he rumbles, almost joyfully. “Also, sorry about before, I was being defensive so anything you said just never reached my ears.” John shrugged, standing up and walking over to the bed, grabbing a free pillow before stepping into the next room clutching another as he returns. “Ok here’s what I want you to do. I patched you up the best I could, but you’re still bleeding pretty bad, so I’m going to put this pillow underneath you and you are going to lay on it to apply pressure to your back, while this other pillow you are going to hold on your front and squeeze-hug it to apply pressure to your front. Got it?” He couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to think anything short of gauze stuffed directly into the wound will do anything productive, let alone a lumpy pillow, not that I was going to tell the psycho that while the girl was still in the room. But, my thoughts were coming a little more quickly now. The sand shifted: I can’t feel my arms. And, you should probably get a doctor or something. “That’s what we are waiting on, as for your arms, guess I’ll just have to get more cloth and apply the pressure myself.” I hear more tearing of cloth after he steps quickly away, retuning with a bundle roughly half the size of one of the pillows. Moving me roughly forward, he squeezes me between the pillows and the torn sheets. I want to scream, but the pain comes too quick, stunning me silent. Standing up to ‘admire’ his handiwork he says, “So how did you get here? By the way nice Pitch you got going on there, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen him.” ‘Oh lovely. He IS a Displaced.’ I shift the sand: And is the little girl your sister then? “The little girl? You mean Yachiru? Well, it’s hard to explain, she is my adoptive daughter, but we treat each other more like brother and sister. So the best answer I can give you is that she’s family to me.” he explains, smiling up to the ceiling, “By the way you still haven’t answered my question, how did you get here?” ‘Wonderful, an unstable father who wants to be buddies with his child. Good thing those dynamics never go south.’ The sand doesn’t react to my sarcastic thoughts, remaining motionless until I directly command it to answer the question: I’m stolen away from my Equestria by a small golden orb of sand. He squints. “Does this orb shift into other stuff and then turn back into an orb? If so, then I think I’m the one who brought you here. My bad,” he chuckles, “didn’t even know what the blasted thing was, I’ve only been in this new world for a day at most.” he scratches the back of his head with his left hand then sighs, “Don’t even know how I got here, I just remember meeting this shady merchant, I bought an eyepatch and Yachiru doll from him, and BAM I’m here! I mean this is cool and all, but… what about my friends?” he frowns, shoulders falling in what I can only assume are the first sensible emotions he’s had since he woke up. Wait, did he just say his adopted kid was a doll? “I doubt there is a way back, nor would I go back since that might mean Yachiru gets turned back into a doll, and that’s not something I would let happen.” he frowns down at me. “Are there others like us?” ‘The fuck does he know. Assumes. Coward.’ The sand remains silent, not that I really expected an answer from it. No sound comes, but I can feel my fingers rubbing against each other now. The sand shifts: Yes. And few and far between are particularly healthy either. “So the rumors were true… well shit.” he pauses, a sickle shaped grin overtaking him as he growls, “How strong are they?” Flashes of the “Christmas” Party filter through my memory. He still sounds crazy, but, since I’m not dead from blood loss, I think it’s time to withdraw. I can always torture him if he harms the girl after all, I shift the sand: Poor to Titanic in power, but that doesn’t mean they know how to use their power. And, not to be rude, but, since you don’t seem like you’re going to kill the little girl any time soon, unless she decides to wake you up, I’m going to find some medical attention. The bells on the man's messy hair jingle, their sudden chime sending him to stiffen, “Well I think Zecora is back if that feeling of someone piercing the back of my head with their gaze means anything,” he grins sheepishly. ‘Or the new fear holder behind you, you overgrown ape.’ Turning around to face the hole in the wall, head shrinking into his shoulders, he tries to chuckle, but the sound dies in his own throat as he says, “Hey Zecora, hehe, I know this looks bad-” “To call this bad for such a disturbance, does not even begin to scratch the surface.” “But you see me and my friend here got into a little bit of a fight, and right now he needs help because I might have probably, definitely stabbed him and is in urgent need of medical attention.” Silence holds for a moment as I see the Mohawked head of a zebra pop out from the side of John. “Is that the cloth from beneath my zanpakuto” she hums, “gifted by the previous captain from so long ago?” “... yesss?” I hear Zecora exhale slowly, before walking inside, looking over to me as she begins making her way past John. I can’t help but notice she’s wearing the same style of clothing as him. I blink, and the next thing I see is a room empty of the mountain sized man and the sound of shattering glass and disturbed shelving in another room as the zebra moves back down to all fours from her punching stance. ‘God, is everyone this disgustingly fast?’ “So now that our fellow nuisance is gone, let’s see to getting you healed before dawn.” “You,” I cough weakly in amazement, “can ... see me?” “An odd thing for a fellow spirit to say,” she smiles, “but I suppose we learn something new each day.” *** Slamming the front door open, surprised that it doesn’t break anything, I follow behind John into Zecora’s home. Rubbing the back of my neck, he calls out, “Hey, crazy striped horse, the patch job’s done!” No sooner did I bite my tongue when a wad of pink cannon-balled into the room cheering, “Ken-chan!” as it snuggled into his face. “Finally awake huh?” he says, pulling her off to rustle her hair, “I swear you could sleep through a war if you wanted to.” She remains silent, wiggling out of his grasp to sit on his head and pointed at me. John rolls his eyes, grabbing her by the scruff of her pajamas, scooting her down to his shoulder. Noticing her extended finger he says, “This here is- actually I’ll let him introduce himself.” “Hello little miss,” I nod, giving a small smile to the crazy man’s living doll, “my name is Wayde Molan. What is yours?” She giggles, all too much like a real child, her fear of losing her ‘Kenny’ not helping either, then says, “I’m Yachiru Kusajishi Mr. Boogeyman! I’m Ken-chan’s first lieutenant and I’ve been with him for as long as I can remember!” she exclaims while hugging the side of his head and rubbing their cheeks together like an affectionate cat. “Anyways Mr. Boogeyman, why are you here?” she asks, putting a finger to her bottom lip with a tilt of her head. ‘Disturbingly lifelike,’ I think, but keep enough of my senses not to flinch. John ruffles her hair, much to Yachiru’s pouting displeasure, butting in to say, “He’s here to help us, he’s informed me of a few things that will help us in the future, why don’t you see if Zecora has any snacks?” She gasps, eyes going wide with a smile to rival it. “Ok!” she cheers, leaping for the floor and racing towards to kitchen. “Nice meeting you Mr. Boogeyman!” she waves. Once gone, John sighed, and, turning to me, said, “Do not let her know we fought while she was asleep, ok? If she finds out she will get really upset,” before walking over to the low table and taking a seat on the floor-cushion. “I don’t think there are any chairs here,” he shrugs, “but you can just use one of those pillows if you want.” “I’m fine,” I state, snapping his fingers. A short, four-legged stool sanding up below me. I wasn’t about to take an uninvited seat. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell her anything.” He smiles, looking relieved, “Thanks, last thing I want is her crying. By the way, that sand stuff of yours is convenient. I mean I might be powerful and all-” ‘Hmph, just give me a single night meat-bag.’ “-but that’s the thing, most of it is just raw power, but that” he pointed to the sand stool, “that’s cool.” Scratching his head, he began to unweave the bells from the tips of his hair. “Anyways, do you know anything else about those displaced you told me about? Maybe a way they could contact me?” “Firstly, this,” I say, sweeping a hand to the small object below me, “comes at a cost. As near as I can tell it’s almost like an artificial intelligence, but rather than logic its bases its operating procedures on emotion, fear specifically. And,” I frown, a thin stream of sand winding up into my fingers, “if I begin to feel too much fear myself, it will physically harm me. But as for the latter,” I straighten up, “I can’t say that I do. They say you channel energy into something you want to represent you, and after that it supposedly multiplies and crosses numerous dimensions, and all without your express knowledge or ability to even control. And of those that I’ve seen, none of them appeared to have the power, let alone the knowledge of how to pull off such a feat. But,” I sigh, “I don’t suppose I’m one to talk, I don’t even know how I even have what is supposedly my token.” “Interesting,” he mutters, scratching his chin, “so pretty much this whole displaced thing is just different cosplayers being thrown around the multiverse through different mediums, and end up summoning each other via a similar way they were brought here in the first place?” he actually asks aloud. “What? You got a problem or something with what I said?” he says, flashing that sickle grin up at me after I gave him what I can only hope was an incredulous look. “No,” I say, my thoughts, scattered as the are for want of fear, bend under the new and growing weight of boredom, “I just think it’s a little weird you’re essentially repeating what I already told you while we were outside making the patch.” “Well, you finally gave me the last piece of the puzzle, I just want to make sure I got my facts straight here.” He says, turning to the patter of Yachiru as she ran over to the table carrying a tray of pastries and candy followed closely by Zecora carrying a tea tray on her back. I stand up, the stool disappearing. Yachiru clapped the platter down, “Kenny look! Zecora gave me all these treats!” she beamed, scooching into his lap before unwrapping a cupcake. Zecora, gracefully sliding the tray onto the table, grasped the kettle between her forehooves and started pouring into the simple green cups. “Now now little Yachiru,” she gently chastised, “not all of those snacks are for you.” Placing the kettle down, she pushed the cups to the four sides of the table before picking up her own, sipping off some of the red liquid’s steam. Picking up his glass, John gulped down nearly half of its contents. Gasping at the heat, he let it sit for a moment before saying, “By the way Zecora you can drop the rhyming again, it shouldn’t hurt him to much now that he is healed. And sit the hell down Wayde, you're making a fool of yourself,” taking another, smaller sip of tea, as Yachiru moved on to her third cupcake. “Thank you for the tea, Miss Zecora,” I nod to her, ignoring the lummox. “He’s is right you know, you are making quite the fool of yourself, proper manners are important, but you are far from an uninvited guest, after all, you are my patient,” she smiles, taking a sip of her tea, closing her eyes, and humming appreciatively at the taste. “Than-” I mumble. ‘Jesus, did being called a fool really hit me that hard?’ Closing my eyes, what felt like a room full of headache suddenly washed over me. I felt so tiny, like a little black circle in a room of white. When the headache started to fade at that simple thought, I opened my eyes. Shaking my head, I looked down, and found shadows covering the rest of me. “Um,” I coughed, the last of the headache fading, ‘Drop the rhyming? Jesus.’ I nodded to Zecora, “Thank you?” and wobbled, slightly, my way to the table, pulling the shadows even more tightly around me as I sat cross-legged upon the table cushion before trying to reach for one of the pastries, only to grab air. Looking over to Yachiru, I found the remaining eight cupcake wrappers and a nearly completed pile of caramel candy wrappers beside it. ‘Ah.’ John merely chuckled at her childish antics, going so far as to snatch the caramel she was about to throw in her mouth and eating it himself. “Kenny!” Yachiru wined, “That was mine!” lightly beating on his chest, her vain attack soon ending as John enveloped her in a bear hug. “If you want something on that plate there Wayde I’d get it now!” he laughed, now wrestling with the small girl. ‘Absurd,’ I found myself smiling, but grabbing three caramels anyway before unwrapping them in quick succession and dropping them into my tea and stirring them into the steaming cup. “Got a sweet tooth yourself, huh?” John smirked. I take a quick sip, coughing, it’s still too bitter, “Something like that,” I grin, “But, about the help you mentioned earlier,” I say, letting the smile fall easily away, this wasn’t just a social visit after all, “what exactly did you want?” “Well you already gave me it really,” he grunts, trying and get out of a ‘headlock’ without hurting Yachiru, “I really just wanted some answers as to why this all was happening, and why I’m here.” Turning the tables on the pink haired menace, he starts to tickle her, “But there is one more thing you could help me with- I got you now you little brat!” “Then please be quick about it,” I state, trying to keep my tone. “It’s bad enough I have to frighten the people of one universe to stay alive, so I don’t relish the thought of doing it in another for very long.” “Well that’s the thing- ouch! Damn it, why the hell did you bite me!? See” he grunted, “that black horse thing with a horn and wings over there?” pointing over to the small enclave, a nook really, on the other side of the room while trying to peel the pink piranha off his hand, “If you could do one last thing for me, can you check her mental state for me? I can’t have someone basically brain dead following me around, they might get hurt if- dammit that hurts, why did you bite my nose!” He yells in mock anger, much to Yachiru’s giggling joy, “Well I think you understand what I mean.” I did. Though I take a less than wild guess and say he didn’t. “I don’t think giving her a scare is a good idea,” I frowned, eyes narrowing, “and isn’t the fine doctor beside us more qualified for such work?” nodding to Zecora. “I can only do so much I’m afraid. She has not moved from her current position since yesterday. I can check on and heal her body, but I cannot check on her mind.” Zecora replies, her gaze falling to the cup she is turning upon the table. “I can only give her bad dreams, but,” I say, looking Zecora directly in the eyes, making sure she understands, “if you think it would do any good, I will do it.” Zecora nods, there isn’t any hesitation “It would, it would set me at ease knowing she is healed, in both body and mind.” “It would put me at ease too,” John says, ignoring Yachiru’s renewed attempts to devour the tray of its sweets, “I don’t know what that rainbow beam did to Nightmare over there, but whatever it was, it didn’t want here to live through it. I,” he sighs, staring back at me, “I wasn’t about to let a good opponent die.” Remaining silent, my mind already made, I stood up, striding to the other room, and the shadows follow even as the others trailed silently behind, keeping their distance. Taking a breath, sitting at the head of the cot, I gazed over the small black mare. The blankets covered most of her body, but I could still make out the two lumps at her sides that signified wings, and the horn atop her head, short though it was, wasn't an easy miss. Even so, I was already certain of who, or rather what, this really is, though I couldn't imagine how it was possible. Bringing my hands forward, I stopped just a few inches from her skull. ‘Just like with Luna,’ I exhaled, letting the nightmare sand slowly wisp out of the shadows around me and netting them around and into Nightmare’s head. Connecting with her, there was nothing but a weary darkness, but her fears still sing to me, and I let it flow, a bright, full moon blooming suddenly in the dark. The glowing prison that held her for so long. She doesn’t like it. And, tired as she is, a new rush fear surged weakly through her, giving her strength enough to let out a tiny gasp of sound out in the real world, to say nothing of her dream self as she begins to run from the clinking of the midnight chains coming from on high to re-ensnare her. Her eyes scrunch close and she wraps her wings tighter against herself, pulling the blankets tighter. “Nooo. Please don’t send me back,” she whispers in a groan. ‘That’s enough,’ I think, the scent of her intoxicating enough as was is, and so close. Not trusting my balance to my legs in my growing hunger, I fade into shadow, sweeping past the lot of them, bunched into the doorway, and back to my seat, rising up from the cushion. “She’s healthy enough to have a nightmare it seems,” I say, gulping my tea and focusing on how nearly burning hot and sweet it is rather than how close I'd been to simply eating her. “How exactly did you manage to make a living nightmare anyway?” John shrugs, again, taking another long pull at the tea he’d brought with him, “I just jumped in and saved her from some frickin’ rainbow beam caused by six ponies’. I don’t know how she appeared and why that smaller blue horse was in her place, but all I know is I did what was right at the time.” They all move back, and, sitting down, “What exactly did you see in there?” he asks, trying to look into his eyes, “What does she fear?” I didn’t like the intimating tone, but I answered for Zecora’s sake. “The moon, which I made. She wasn’t doing all that much dreaming. And as for fear, that would be you,” I glance at him, not that Mr. Breath’s Largely Without Organs should be surprised by that, “and being forced back into Luna just to be stuffed with all her negative emotions again …” I bite my tongue, and almost say how delicious she is too, how hungry the nightmare makes me, but busy myself with refilling my cup. “Well,” he stands up, cracking his back, “thanks for the help man, you really put my mind at ease for now,” walking over to slam his oversized hand into my back, laughing as he forces me down, almost into the table, “Sorry about the mishap earlier, didn’t mean to spook ya! With you showing up out of nowhere, I didn’t have on any clothes, you startled me!” he winks, bringing his head down between me and Yachiru, finally drinking her tea now that all everything else is gone. I stand up deliberately, coming up to just a little bit past his waist, but the sand circled under me, raising me on a pillar until I was at eye level. “I can’t say I would have reacted any differently in front of my own daughter either,” I say, putting a hand out to him. Even if he was a nutter, he was at least a consistent one who cared for things beyond himself. Remaining silent, in a single swift move, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into a headlock, giving me a noogie. “You better visit you stone skinned bastard!” he laughs, but, painful as it is, a snort of laughter escapes me, and immediately begin to smooth my hair back down when he lets me go. “Guess it’s time to send you bac-” “Wait!” Yachiru yells, running back into the room, carrying two wooden looking placards. Coming up to us both, she hands us one each. On closer inspection, the small rectangle has a plus sign over a minus sign in what looks like professional ink at the top with a long ways black diamond at the bottom gleaming with four-pointed stars. “I heard you two talk about those token thingies, and them being a way to meet new people! So I made these! One for Ken-chan to give away to that void thingy, and one for Mr. Boogeyman! I made it special for you, it has your face on the back!” she beams. Flipping the thing over, in the same black ink, but now, with child-like skill I see a poor facsimile of myself, a large triangle topped with a circle with octopus’s lips and a connecting speech bubble reading ‘BOO!’, strangely in the professional style lettering as the front’s symbols, and a slightly better drawn version of Yachiru, as she sports hair and a smile that takes up half of her face standing beside me. And the, to make matters worse, she then jumped up and hugged me. “I’ll miss you Mr. Boogeyman.” she said sweetly. ‘That’s not fair.’ I gasped quietly. I was not ready for something like that, like the little ankle biter might genuinely care about me, if only a little bit. “Thank you,” I eventually said, “This is very well done. I’ll make sure to keep it safe,” and slid it into one of my jacket’s inner pockets, Yachiru’s blushing smile only growing wider. Roping me out of my thoughts, John pulled me in, his left arm yanking me by the neck to show off his own wood block, “Oi, softy, want to see me send this out before you go?” he asks gruffly, smiling down at me. Not having much of a choice, I nod, giving a small smile in return. Releasing me, he takes a few steps back and, staring at the wood block outstretch before him, pauses, allowing Yachiru to climb on top of his head, then said, “To whoever is in possession of this badge, I would like for you to know that if you plan to call upon me you better be ready for a fight.” “You betcha! Or you should be ready to have fun!” Yachiru adds. “What’s the difference?” “True, anyway I’m Yachiru Kusajishi I hope we become friends!” “And I’m Kenpachi Zaraki, I hope we get to know each other well, I can be the best of allies-” “Or your worst nightmare!” Yachiru grinned, placing her hand on the woodblock, the letter beginning to glow with shimmering pink and yellow light, “Me and Ken-chan can’t wait to meet you, call if you need some help ok?” At that moment a darkness bloomed in front of them, swirling with the most elegantly beautiful shades of darkness I had ever seen. With a nod from Yachiru, they both tossed the wood block into the dark flower, and it disappeared without so much as a ripple. Looking down, something in near my chest feeling warmer, I saw my own wood block briefly glow before going out with a sort of fizzling sound. ‘What the hell happened to my precious rules?’ I think forlornly. Yachiru then jumped down as John began to sigh, scratching the back of his head, “Now that that’s done, we can send you off on your way Wayde, just need to find your token, where did I put it?” he says, walking in a small circle. “You mean this thing?” asks Yachiru pulling out a familiar orb of golden sand from her large sleeves. “Yep, that’s it.” He nodded, reaching down to pluck it from her outstretch hands, abut flinching when it starts to wriggle in her grasp for a few moments before becoming still once more. “Weird… anyways,” he says, picking it up, “Wayde if you ever need something, you know what to do, right?” I look up at him, silently peering into his eyes. As poorly as things had turned out … again, maybe this guy wasn’t … completely without character. And, looking briefly down at the new lump in my jacket, I looked John back in the eye and said, “Thank you.” My response seemed to please him, and he smile. “Alright then, I guess I just say something and you go?” I nod, I’d told him this before. “Ok, Wayde, you have completed your task here,” he says as I hear the swirling circle of sand hushing behind me, “Now get the hell out!” he yells with a laugh, thrusting me backwards into the swirling mess. “God,” I sigh, “Whatever.”