Chapter Text
The morning of the match arrived with a roar.
Well, not yet. The stadium was still quiet when Gelasis opened their eyes, the artificial sky barely beginning to brighten. But the roar existed in their chest, a humming anticipation that made their fingers twitch and their heart beat faster than it should.
They lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, and thought about Akivili.
This was becoming a pattern. Wake up, think about the Aeon. Go to practice, think about the Aeon. Fall asleep, dream about the Aeon. It was embarrassing. It was consuming. It was, Gelasis had finally admitted to themself, love. Not that they had said the word out loud. They were planning to. After today’s match. But for now, the word sat in their chest, warm and heavy, and they carried it with them as they showered, got dressed and walked to the team meeting room.
Erin was already there, studying a holographic projection of the opposing team’s formation. She looked up when Gelasis entered, and for once, there was no annoyance in her expression. Just focus.
“You’re early,” Gelasis said.
“I’m always early. Thinking of Plans A to G to win this game.”
“Right.” The fool sat down across from her. “Any plan for what happens if Jack’s stomach mouth opens during the match?”
Erin’s fingers tightened around her tablet. “He’s been good during practice.”
“He has.”
“That doesn’t mean—” She stopped and took a breath. “In that case, I have a plan. Plan H. If he goes for me, I run. I’m fast.”
Gelasis nodded. “You are fast. But if he goes for you, I’ll be faster.”
The navigator looked at them for a long moment. Her expression didn’t exactly soften, but the sharpness went out of it. “Why do you care so much? You’re a Masked Fool. You’re supposed to be selfish.”
Gelasis thought about the question. Thought about Akivili, about the way the Aeon had asked them to care about the joy of others. They closed their eyes at the memory and felt their lips curl into a smile.
“You’re my Akivili’s Nameless. I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” the fool said with a shrug, as if that explained everything.
Erin stared at them. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Probably. Eat your breakfast. We have a match to win.”
———
The stadium was alive.
By the time Gelasis led their team onto the field, the stands were packed. Holographic banners waved overhead, displaying the names of both teams in flashing letters. The crowd’s roar was a physical force, pressing against Gelasis’ ears and vibrating in their chest. On the far side of the field, Team Akivili emerged from the opposite tunnel, silver and gold and devastatingly competent.
And there, at the front, was Akivili.
The Aeon looked like something out of a myth. Their silver hair caught the artificial sunlight, their golden eyes scanned the field with calm precision. They wore the team’s uniform in shades of gold and white, and Gelasis had to remind themself how to breathe in their mortal body.
“Captain,” Hoshi said from behind them. “You’re staring.”
“I’m strategizing,” Gelasis replied without looking away.
“You’re staring.”
The fool tore their gaze away and turned to face their own team. Erin was doing breathing exercises, her fluff ball bouncing with each exhale. Jack stood like a mountain, his expression unreadable. The other Omniphages shifted behind him, their eyes tracking the crowd, the field and the ball.
“Here’s the plan,” Gelasis said, pitching their voice to carry over the noise. “We play hard. We play fast. We play fair.” They paused. “Well, mostly fair.”
Erin snorted. “That’s not a plan.”
“It’s a philosophy. Plans are for people who don’t trust their instincts.” Gelasis turned to Jack. “You. No eating the other team. No eating the ball. No eating the referee.”
Jack’s stomach mouth twitched beneath his shirt, but he nodded. “No eating. Good team.”
“Good team,” the other Omniphages echoed in unison.
The fool had no idea whether that was reassuring or deeply unsettling. They decided to turn back toward the field. The referee drone hovered at the center line, its lights flashing through the countdown sequence.
“Ten seconds,” the drone announced. “Teams ready.”
Gelasis looked across the field. Akivili was looking back.
The Aeon’s expression was unreadable from this distance, but Gelasis knew them well enough to see the slight tilt of their head, the almost imperceptible smile. They were enjoying this. Of course they were. The Trailblaze lived for new experiences, and a match against their closest Nameless was about as new as it got.
“Five seconds.”
Gelasis crouched, muscles coiling.
“Three. Two. One.”
The ball launched into the air with a crack of energy, and the match began.
———
From the first whistle, Gelasis understood that Akivili wasn’t playing around.
The Aeon moved across the field like water finding its level, inevitable and impossible to stop. They intercepted passes that should’ve been impossible, redirected the ball with a flick of their wrist, and directed their team with hand signals that Uriel and Viola followed without hesitation. Maribel, to Gelasis’ surprise, was also competent, though they seemed content to stay in the background and let the Trailblaze shine.
Gelasis, meanwhile, was chaos.
They stole the ball from Uriel by pretending to trip, somersaulted over Viola’s attempt to block them, and passed blind to Hoshi, who caught it with the same bewildered expression they always wore. Erin ran circles around the opposing defense, her small size making her nearly impossible to track. Jack stood in the middle of the field like a wall, absorbing hits, redirecting the ball, and generally being terrifying in a way that the rules didn’t quite know how to handle.
It was fun.
The fool hadn’t realized how much they had missed this. Not the competition, not the crowd, but the play. The joy of movement, of laughter, of doing something for no reason other than it felt good. They caught the ball and spun away from Viola, laughed at the guard’s flat expression, and looked across the field to find Akivili watching them.
The Aeon was smiling. Not the careful, measured smile they wore for the Nameless. A real one. Bright and warm and a little bit smug.
Gelasis wanted to kiss them.
Instead, they dribbled the ball down the field and scored.
The crowd roared. Erin whooped. Hoshi looked like they had just witnessed a miracle. Gelasis turned to find Akivili again, but the Aeon was already moving, calling out instructions to their team, and the moment passed.
But the smile stayed on the fool’s face.
———
The match continued, and Gelasis had to admit that Akivili was annoyingly good.
Not that the fool expected anything less. The Aeon of Trailblaze had spent millennia exploring the universe, adapting to new environments and learning new skills. Roboball was just another challenge, and Akivili approached it with the same relentless curiosity they brought to everything.
But did they have to be so smug about it?
Every time Gelasis scored, Akivili answered with a goal of their own. Every time the fool stole the ball from Uriel, the Aeon appeared out of nowhere to steal it right back. They moved like they had been playing the sport for years, not days, and their teammates followed their lead with the kind of trust that came from shared experience.
Viola was precise where Jack was merely immovable, her movements calculated to the millisecond, her interceptions mechanical and exact. She redirected the ball with her shoulders, and once, memorably, headbutted it across half the field to Akivili, who caught it without looking.
Uriel, for all his theoretical knowledge, was surprisingly effective. He wasn’t fast, but he was always where the ball was going to be, as if he had read ahead in a book that hadn’t been written yet. His wings flared when he jumped, making him look like a true angel, and more than once Gelasis found themself watching him instead of the ball.
Maribel was the mystery. They played well, too well for someone who claimed to have no experience. Their passes were too precise, their positioning too perfect. But every time Gelasis tried to get close, Maribel smiled that gentle, knowing smile and drifted away, leaving the fool with nothing but suspicion.
Gelasis filed all of that away and focused on the game.
The score was tied. The crowd was deafening. And the fool was having the time of their life.
———
Across the field, Akivili was also having fun.
They hadn’t expected to. The separation from Gelasis had been harder than they wanted to admit, and the first day of practice had been miserable. But now, with the ball at their feet and the crowd roaring and the fool grinning at them from across the field, Akivili felt it again: the clean, uncomplicated joy that had been hard to find before Gelasis.
The fool was chaos incarnate, a whirlwind of blonde hair and crimson eyes and laughter that carried across the field even over the crowd. They played like they had invented the sport five minutes ago and were still figuring out the rules. They passed blind, shot wild, and somehow, impossibly, kept scoring.
Akivili wanted to laugh. Wanted to cross the field and kiss that ridiculous grin right off the fool’s face.
Instead, they stole the ball from Hoshi and scored again.
The crowd erupted. The Aeon looked across the field and found Gelasis watching them, expression caught somewhere between admiration and exasperation.
“Show off,” the fool mouthed.
Akivili smiled. “You started it.”
———
But then, it happened midway through the second half.
The score was tied, the energy was high, and the ball was in play. Gelasis had just passed to Hoshi, who was making a break for the goal. Erin was positioning herself for a rebound, her small form darting between defenders. Jack was holding the center, his massive frame blocking Akivili’s team from advancing.
After that, the formation broke.
It wasn’t a mistake. One moment, Jack was standing still, a mountain of restrained hunger. The next, his stomach mouth was open, wider than Gelasis had ever seen it, and his eyes had locked onto Erin.
The other Omniphages moved at the same time, their stomach mouths splitting open, their bodies shifting from cautious teammates to predators in the space of a breath. They surged forward past the ball, past the goal, converging on the navigator.
Erin went still, arms dropping to her sides. She didn't run or scream. She just stood there, face gone white as paper, trembling as several sets of sharp teeth bore down on her. Plan H had failed.
At the time, Gelasis was three meters away. They didn’t think. There wasn’t time to think, to plan, to calculate the odds. There was only Erin’s terrified face and the promise they had made to their Akivili: to keep her safe, to care about the joy of others, to be something other than a selfish fool.
They moved.
Three meters was nothing. Gelasis crossed it in a heartbeat, their body moving faster than it should have, faster than a mortal body should be able to move. They didn’t question it. They just threw themself between Jack and Erin, arms outstretched, and took the hit.
Jack’s teeth sank into their side.
The pain was immediate and overwhelming, a white-hot lance that drove the breath from their lungs. The fool felt blood hot and wet soaking through their clothes, and then they were falling, the world tilting sideways as their legs gave out.
They hit the ground hard. Above them, the artificial sky spun. The crowd’s roar had become something else: screams, shouts, the chaos of a stadium realizing something had gone terribly wrong. Gelasis tried to push themself up, tried to turn and see if Erin was safe, but their arms shook and their vision blurred and their body refused. This mortal body was too weak, but they had to keep up the act at all costs.
Then, they heard footsteps, fast and frantic, the sound of someone running like their life depended on it. Gelasis knew those footsteps. They had heard them a thousand times, in hallways and practice fields and hotel rooms where they pretended to sleep.
“Akivili,” they breathed.
———
On the far side of the field, Akivili saw it happen.
They were sixty meters away, tracking the ball, when Jack’s stomach mouth opened. They caught the shift in his posture, the hunger that lit his eyes. Erin froze. Gelasis moved. For one terrible, eternal moment, the world stopped.
The Aeon of Trailblaze, who had crossed countless stars and witnessed the birth and death of civilizations, who had faced down enemies and disasters and the crushing weight of their own path, stopped moving entirely.
For one breath, they were young again. Newly ascended, still learning what it meant to be an Aeon, still afraid of the universe and their place in it. They didn’t know how to navigate what they were feeling. They didn’t know what to name the terror that flooded through them, which was cold and absolute.
Then, they ran.
———
The stadium had become a nightmare.
Akivili crossed the field faster than they had ever moved in their mortal form. The crowd’s screams faded. The other players blurred past. None of it mattered. The only thing that did was the figure crumpled on the ground, the red spreading across their side, the way they weren’t getting up.
“Gelasis!”
The name tore from Akivili’s throat. They reached the fool and dropped to their knees, hands already reaching for the wound. Blood soaked through Gelasis’ clothes, warm and slick against the Aeon’s fingers, and there was far too much of it. The fool’s face was pale, their eyes half-closed, breath coming in shallow gasps.
“Don’t you dare,” Akivili whispered, their voice shaking. “Don’t you dare close your eyes.”
Gelasis managed a weak smile. Blood stained their lips. “My Akivili. You came.”
“Of course I came. I will always come.” The Aeon pressed their hands against the wound, about to stop the bleeding with their power. But they noticed something.
Behind them, the Omniphages weren’t finished.
Jack lunged again, his stomach mouth still open, his eyes wild with hunger. The other Omniphages followed, their bodies shifting, their teeth bared. They had broken formation entirely, driven by something deeper than strategy, deeper than the promises they had made.
Akivili didn’t look up. They raised one hand, and silver light exploded from their palm.
Rails of pure light shot up from the ground, curving and twisting, forming cages around each Omniphage. Jack slammed against the bars of his prison, his stomach mouth snapping at the empty air. The other Omniphages thrashed, but the silver held. The cages were not physical, but they were unbreakable. The Aeon of Trailblaze had willed them into existence, and the universe obeyed.
“Stay,” Akivili said, and the word carried the weight of their path.
The Omniphages froze. Not because they wanted to, but because an Aeon had commanded it. Jack’s stomach mouth closed slowly. He looked at the cage around him, at his own bloodied teeth, at Erin standing a few meters away, still staring with a bloodlust gaze.
The Trailblaze understood now, and the understanding was cold. The request to join group activities. The careful behavior during practice. The words “good team” repeated like a mantra, lulling everyone into false security. It had all been a performance. Jack and his kind had been waiting for this moment, for a crowd large enough to cause chaos, for a match distracting enough to lower their guard.
But there was no time to dwell on betrayal. Gelasis was bleeding on the ground.
Akivili turned back to the fool, hands pressing against the huge wound that ran along the other person’s chest and stomach. Blood welled between their fingers, warm and relentless. The fool’s lips had gone colorless, their breathing a shallow rattle.
“I’m going to heal you,” the Aeon said, and their voice left no room for argument. Golden light began to gather in their palms, warm and gentle, the power of the Trailblaze responding to their will.
But Gelasis’ hand shot up and grabbed their wrist.
The grip was weak, trembling, but it stopped Akivili cold. The fool’s crimson eyes, half-lidded with pain, held something desperate and afraid.
“No.”
Akivili stared at them. “What?”
“Don’t.” They stopped, chest heaving. “Don’t heal me.” Blood trickled from the corner of their mouth. “There’s something I haven't told you. A secret. If you heal me now, with your power, you’ll see it. You’ll see everything.”
Akivili’s hands trembled. The golden light flickered around their fingers, uncertain. “I don’t care about your secrets. I care about you. Let me save you.”
“You will care.” The fool's grip tightened, though it had no strength left. “You’ll care a lot. And I’m not ready. I’m not ready for you to know. Not like this. Not when I can’t explain.”
“Then explain later.” Akivili was already crying. They couldn’t remember the last time this had happened, maybe not since they were newly ascended and frightened and alone. “Please. Please let me heal you.”
Gelasis’ hand slid from their wrist to their fingers, interlacing weakly. “You’re crying, my Akivili.”
“Of course I’m crying.” Something cracked in Akivili’s voice. “You’re bleeding to death in my arms, and you won’t let me help you. What am I supposed to do?”
“Stay with me.” The fool’s eyes were closing. “Just…stay with me. That’s all I need.”
“Gelasis. Gelasis, no. Keep your eyes open. Look at me.” Akivili cupped the fool’s face with their free hand, tilting it toward them. “Look at me.”
Those crimson eyes fluttered open one more time. The usual mischief was gone. They looked, just for a moment, peaceful.
Then, Gelasis’ arm fell to the ground.