Chapter Text
The Blade never quite got used to the feeling of flying. Well, that wasn’t exactly accurate. The Blade couldn’t fly, at least not like Philza could. When Philza spoke about his flights, his eyes would light up in a way Technoblade would never understand. Yet whenever The Blade patrolled at night, leaping from roof to roof, propelling himself further with his unnatural strength, he felt a sort of safety in the peace. The wind brushing against his ears, the cool air freezing his tusks, the feel of the breeze contradicting the shape of his sword in its sheath. Aside from fighting, nights like these were his element. His one hold on life.
He’d never patrolled out this far— heroes weren’t meant to patrol the lower districts. They were told to leave it to the cops, to the government, and to let heroes handle the big scandals, not random street affairs. But Technoblade had to disagree, after being forced to watch the protests dissolve into riots while he sat comfortably staring into the tv. He despised being useless.
His legs were beginning to feel weary, ankles shaking after the repeated impact of jumping from roof to roof. Anyone else’s ankles would have broken, but not him. There was a reason he was a top hero. Techno may have been the only top hero without any abilities, but that’s what made him unique. He had climbed to the top of the ladder soley using the traits of his piglin roots; a classic fuck you to society’s anti-hybrid agenda.
Once he entered official lower district borders, he noticed an immediate difference. Men, women, and children lay in the streets, cuddled up in blankets in an attempt to stay warm. In front of each of them lay a cardboard sign, begging for the violence to end. It triggered a scowl on The Blade’s face as he kept going. He passed protest after protest, each one small groups of people shouting proverbs and poems to each other, yet all seemed peaceful. That is, until he stopped on a certain rooftop above a crowd ten times larger than the mini groups along the way. The people were held back by a barricade of police, some even being pushed to the ground and beat. Technoblade had to hold back every bone in his body from interrupting at that very moment. He knew he wasn’t meant to be there, and being seen acting out against the police like that, he would have been as good as a vigilante. So, with a heavy heart, he kept going, until he reached his destination not so far away.
The brick café sat comfortably near two other buildings, but that didn’t stop it from standing out. It held up a sweet pink and white striped canopy that leaned over a wide window, a locked, light pastel pink door beside it. The windowsill garden contained an array of different flowers, all blooming healthily even in the nighttime. Plastered on the door was a large menu, filled top to bottom with names and ingredients of different drinks and coffees, as well as pastries and treats. Etched into the canopy were the words Niki’s Café. It was the most adorable establishment he had ever seen, and that’s coming from a man who had no interest whatsoever in aesthetics.
What did peak his interest, however, was the abnormally tall hybrid standing outside the window, head tilted and staring at the sign. The Blade tensed, gripping the handle on his sheath, preparing for the very likely chance the hybrid was hostile. He shook his head, trying to correct his wayward thinking, and leapt down from the roof, legs somewhat shaking after the impact. He approached the figure, who stood at least three feet taller than the already largely built hero. Techno slowed his breathing, becoming almost silent as he spoke. “Hello? What are you doing?”
The hybrid’s head whipped around, turning in an inhuman direction that made a disapproving crack in response. The hero winced in return, only then looking up to meet the hybrid's eyes. Despite his tall stature, the hybrid looked almost… childish? His facial structure was soft in build, and his round bright purple eyes widened in a way impossible to those who had been exposed to the pressures of the world.
The boy's eyes were captivating, to say the least. When Technoblade stared into them, his body felt still and free of the burdens of life. He felt his brain drifting off, getting lost in the trance of the boy’s gaze. The grip on his sword's handle loosened, dropping to his side. Just as his thoughts began to fuzz, he heard the start of a disorienting hum coming from the hybrid. It started low, and silent, before growing to be equivalent to an ear-piercing shriek. Technoblade broke the transe to immediately raise his hands to his ears, trying to censor the discomfort the sound brought. However, as soon as the gaze was broken, the sound disappeared. What the fuck.
The Blade backed up, hesitantly looking back towards the hybrid's head. But the boy’s attention was now focused otherwise, his head whirling side to side in confusion. Techno only got a glimpse of the boys now green and red eyes before the hybrid stared down back at him. Technoblade noticed the lack of innocence in the hybrid’s real eyes. The boy's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak, “The Blade? What… what am I doing here?”
Yeah, okay, this kid is out of it.
Techno slowly bent down to pick his sword up again, in response the boy backed up in caution. “Kid? What’s your name?” He said, still trying to decide whether or not the boy was hostile.
“I’m- My name is Ranboo… how, how did I get here?” The kid looked frantic, tail swishing nervously behind him.
“You don’t remember? You were just standing here, making this noise,” Techno examined the area, but nothing was out of the ordinary. Just this lost hybrid, all by himself. “I recognize you… are you the hybrid from the newspaper? The one that works here?”
Ranboo’s eyes widened in fear at that, and he backed another step away, “What’s…” he gulped, “What’s it to you?” He attempted to broaden his chest and stand taller, most likely to intimidate, but the shakey crack in his voice betrayed him.
The Blade sighed, releasing the tension in the hand that gripped the handle of his sword. “No, not like that. In fact, I was planning to talk with you eventually. I guess I didn’t figure you would be… here. In the middle of the night.”
The kid huffed a weak laugh, “That goes for the both of us.” Technoblade held back a smile.
He prepared to open his mouth, when suddenly he noticed a new tension in the hybrid’s ears as the boy perked up, looking in a different direction in alarm. Techno followed suit.
Ranboo didn’t have time to question what he was doing outside Niki’s café, being interrogated— interrogated? Was he being interrogated?— by The Blade himself. His attention was stolen the moment he heard an inconsistent screech in the frequencies, and snapped his head towards what he assumed to be danger. He was met with nothing but a lonesome street, however the screeching continued, coming from all directions. He slightly winced, wishing he could pin his ears to stop the noise, but the past scars on his ears reminded him that wasn’t how it worked, from previous desperate attempts to stop the noise once and for all. The hero in front of him seemed to notice his discomfort, tensing at the sight of him. His mouth was moving, he must have been talking, but Ranboo couldn’t focus over the sound of imminent danger everywhere around him.
Despite not being able to hear himself, he attempted to alarm the hero, saying ‘we need to get out of here.’ His message must have somewhat gotten through, because the emergency in the hero's eyes doubled, nodding in both agreement and concern. By then it was too late, and Ranboo turned in fear to be met with a flying brick to his body. He shrieked, bringing his arms up to shield his face when he realized he didn’t have time to move or teleport, and he was instantly faced with an intense pain in his right arm.
The screeching stilled, quieting only because of the adrenaline running through Ranboo’s mind as he bent to his knees to cradle his arm, meanwhile there was a conflicted hero who stood turning between him and the masked man who was running away. The hero shook his head and knelt down next to Ranboo, and he could finally register his words again.
“-shit, are you okay? Goddamnit that was a whole ass brick— it’ll be broken at best,” The Blade obsessed, trying to touch Ranboo’s arm but failing when he flinched away.
Ranboo bit down his lip, restraining a cry, “It’s- ‘m fine—! Just, let’s leave. Not done.”
The hero lifted a brow in confusion, clearly not understanding Ranboo’s cut wording. “What’s not done?”
Ranboo heaved himself up, holding his arm gently so as it didn’t move, and rephrased after taking in a breath. “Brick guy. He’s not done— coming back,” he managed. The Blade seemed to understand, though his face communicated strongly that he wanted answers. Well too bad. Ranboo thought, we are getting out of here first.
The hero glanced back down to the floor, where a brick lay, with chalked words edged into it covered by marks of Ranboo’s blood. Neither of them had to get a closer look to read it. Neither of them had to share a glance to ponder the meaning of it. The word had been engraved into both of their minds since they were little, always being there to remind them. They may have been worlds apart, but they had one thing in common that they shared. And that thing they shared? It sat written on a bloody brick on the ground. Freak.
The Blade spat on it, and Ranboo looked up at him through the pain in slight amusement. The hero turned to him, and attempted a smile which utterly failed on top of his aggressive features and the anger that sat on his face. “You can come with me, I know a healer.”
Ranboo’s face paled, “No, no, I’ll be fine-!”
“Seriously kid, that’s not a clean break. You need a doctor,” The hero pursued.
Ranboo shook his head. “I ‘ave medications at home, besides I can’t afford a healer,” his words still slurred, his body too focused on not passing out from the pain.
The Blade glared, “Ranboo.” Ranboo didn’t like how casually he used his name, “You’re coming with me. I don’t expect you to pay for it, I just need to make sure you’re safe.”
The hybrid prepared to protest, but seeing the sheer look of stubbornness on the hero’s face he conceded. The Blade nodded, leading him across the street and away from the scene. Ranboo wasn’t sure where he expected to take him, no decent healer lived in these parts of the city. No more than a minute later was his question answered, when the hero picked up his cell phone to call for a ride.
“Puffy? Figured you were awake, I need a favor.”
“So are you going to explain to me what happened or should I just guess why I’m fixing a random unconscious kid’s arm?” Puffy turned to Techno, who had been silent almost the entire time. The kid laid on his left side, completely passed out on the couch, and seemed surprisingly comfortable despite the fact Puffy had just somewhat healed two fractures, a peeling scab, and a lot of bruises and torn skin. Technoblade sighed in exhaustion.
“I don’t know, Puff— it’s a long story,” Techno tried his best to sound as exhausted as possible, hoping maybe he could get out of it. Puffy just raised an eyebrow.
“We have all the time in the world. Unless, of course, this is going to become a frequent thing. The whole you bringing in homeless, injured children, I mean.” She was cleaning up, picking up leftover bandages and anesthetics, as she talked.
“First of all, Steve was completely different, considering he was a polar bear cub. And second of all, I am very certain this child is not homeless,” Techno huffed. Plus, he added mentally, taking in homeless children is Phil’s thing.
This seemed to make Puffy even more aggravated. “He’s what?! Techno, you can’t just bring random kids from the outskirts of the SMP here, especially if they have families and homes! Did you even check with him if he wanted to go home?”
Technoblade shoved away the memory of the kid telling him about his medications at home, and shook his head. “Puffy, this was the safest option! His arm was shattered, the kid was in shambles, and for all I knew the brick dude was just waiting for a chance to actually hit him in the head!”
Puffy stared in shock.
“…The what dude?!”
This was going to be a very long night.
Ranboo woke up to a strange tingling in his right arm, and a low worried buzz in his ears. He squinted, rubbing at his eyes with his good arm, as he went to raise himself.
He instantly noticed the lack of pain in what should’ve been a shattered arm, and turned his head to examine it. What he remembered to be covered in red scrapes and a disfigured shape, now was replaced by white bandages slightly tinted red. He went to unwrap the bandage, before jumping at a sudden voice.
“Best to leave it as it is for now. It’s almost fully healed but it still needs to settle.”
Ranboo turned his head towards a woman standing in the door frame, looking over to him with a kind smile. She was a sheep hybrid, he noted, with long and poofy white curls. He realized he had been staring too long when she walked over to sit next to him. “So- So are you the healer, then? The Blade’s friend?” Ranboo attempted to ask casually.
The woman laughed at that, before settling once seeing the uncertainty on Ranboo’s face, “Yes, I am. The name’s Puffy. Techno and I go way back, though I wouldn’t call my ability healing, more so of a repair situation.”
Ranboo raised an eyebrow, “T-Techno? Is… is that The Blade’s… name?”
“Crazy right? Hard to believe us heroes are people too, huh?” She retorted half heartedly.
Ranboo tensed, “No, no- I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry—”
“Kid,” She cut him off, “It’s fine. Don’t worry, he’ll be back any minute now. He left a while ago to find the criminal who attacked you.”
“A while ago…? Wait, how long have I been here?” He questioned.
“Maybe four or so hours?”
“What-?! I need to get home— I have two roommates, they're probably worried sick!” He shouted frantically, trying even harder to stand up despite Puffy’s effortless counter.
“Don’t worry, once he’s back and we make sure everything’s okay, we’ll take you back. You can borrow my phone if you want?” She offered, desperate for anything to calm Ranboo down.
He hesitated, before reluctantly nodding.
She handed him a recently modeled iphone, and left him to his call. Once he figured out the tech and was able to open the dial-up, he hesitated at the details of his roommates phone numbers, before a tune Tubbo taught him to help remember popped into his head. He hummed it as he typed in Tubbo’s phone number.
“Hello?” A very staticy and suspicious Tubbo answered.
Ranboo hesitated, aware of the hell to come from the boy, before responding, “Tubbo?” His voice was weak and warbled, no doubt from the hours of unconsciousness.
“Ranboo?! You little shit we thought you were dead,” Ranboo could hear a slight peak of interest in the background, presumably Tommy, before Tubbo continued, “Are you alright? Where are you? Why’d you disappear? What happened?”
Ranboo’s head panged at the sudden overflow of questions, and Puffy gave him a concerned look after seeing his reaction. He smiled to reassure her, though even he could see through it. “Slow your roll, Bo. My head is really killing me right now, I don’t need you to add onto it,” Tubbo exclaimed in response to hearing about Ranboo’s pain, but didn’t interrupt, “I’m fine, now. I think I was… sleepwalking… then some guy attacked me. But The Blade helped me get away and brought me to a healer! I’m at their house now, and I’ll be back soon.” He winced at the awful explanation, hoping it went through somewhat.
After a moment of silence on the phone, Ranboo almost assumed Tubbo had hung up, before the volume peaked, scratching at his sensitive hearing.
“The fucking Blade?!
Ranboo sighs in exasperation.