Chapter Text
To be completely fair, Younghoon only wanted some strawberry milk, not a world full of magical spirits, warlocks, political unrest and a whole lot of emotional baggage.
But he’s getting ahead of himself.
The thing is, Kim Younghoon, the eldest child of two in a normal, boring middle-class family, had no idea what was going to hit him the moment he stepped through the door frame of a small mart next to his school, allowance in hand as a thirst insatiable by anything but strawberry milk lingers in his throat. He had no idea when he waved hello to the nice auntie who always gave him a discount if he promised to shoot her a heart arrow and wink at her, and no idea yet when he ducks behind the rows of cup noodles and peperos to open the small freezer.
The first inkling he receives is when he turns around to find a two-meter tall Panda with strange, glowing blue-and-white fur, sleeping in the middle of the aisle as it holds onto a gigantic log. Younghoon flinches, nearly dropping his strawberry milk as he gives the auntie a concerned look.
“Auntie?” Younghoon calls, with fear palpable in his tone. The auntie looks up from her magazine, humming a questioning noise. Younghoon gulps.
“I think you have a bear in your store,” Younghoon says, voice tightening in fear. The auntie just chuckles at him.
“He showed up a few hours ago, Younghoonie. Said he was waiting for you,” the auntie calls back, laughing as she popped a cherry into her mouth. She’s relaxed. Too relaxed, which is a concern because Yoonghoon knows this auntie and he knows she is never relaxed, always wound up about something. Younghoon gives her a fearful glance.
“M-me?” Younghoon stammers, glancing back and forth between the auntie and the panda, who seems to slowly be stirring awake, “why me?”
The auntie chuckles. “Can’t you recognize a spirit guide when you see one? You’re going to the big city, boy!” The auntie exclaims, excitement dancing in her tone as she grins at Younghoon. Yoonghoon’s eyes widen, slowly stumbling backwards as he holds onto the glass case.
“Wh-what?” Younghoon stammers, shaking as he watches the panda slowly sit up, rubbing at its eyes before turning around. In that singular moment, Younghoon’s entire life flashed through his eyes, every moment from the first ray of light he’s ever seen to his little sister’s last birthday to even the box of strawberry milk he’s clutching on as a pseudo-weapon right now. Younghoon gulps.
“Oh don’t be so nervous,” the auntie calls from the counter again, making Younghoon swivel his head towards her. There’s a foreign smile on her face, Cheshire-like as she holds up her little phone and winks at Younghoon.
“I already told your mother,” she adds, opening her phone for something, “she’s rather excited. I mean, it’s not every day you meet a spirit guide, let alone find out your son will become a human anchor!”
Younghoon’s head swims. Of course, he knows the legends and stories of spirits and warlocks, tales of great heroes who have saved the nation countless times from all the villains and shadow forces around them. South Korea is one of the only countries in the world who have pushed back the invasion forces of the Shadow Realm’s spirits so well, and almost all of it is thanks to the great warlock heroes and the spirits from the Spirit World summoned to help them. They band together in small teams to fight and keep the country safe, formed in the vast halls and grand archways of the nation’s top hero-training academies. Spirit guides are the leaders of these teams, but as their magic volumes are much stronger than that of a normal spirit, they require a human ‘anchor’ without the actuve magical circuits warlocks carry to transform into their human form.
But still, those are just stories. Human anchors are chosen almost at birth, stolen away from their parents to be groomed and trained to keep up with even the strongest of warlocks on the battlefield despite the obvious magical imbalance. Younghoon is seventeen and very much not a baby. So why him? And why now?
“It’s good to finally meet you,” the panda interrupts Younghoon’s train of thought, although the panda’s no longer a panda anymore. He’s a man, looking a few years older than Younghoon despite Spirit guides being ancient souls thousands of years old, with soft brown hair and possibly one of the warmest smiles Younghoon has ever seen. The log he was holding earlier is replaced by a rapier that hangs at his waist, fastened down by a golden buckle on dark brown leather. He’s holding out his hands in a handshake, eyes curved up into half-moons as an aura of magic rolls off of him in tsunami-like waves.
“Wh-who are you? A-and why me? A-and why are you here n-now?” Yoonghoon stammers, shrinking away as the panic in his brain increases by tenfold. He has a sword ! Younghoon doesn’t stand a chance with his measly carton of strawberry milk. The spirit chuckles, his aura dimming ever so slightly as he pats Younghoon’s shoulder lightly.
“For one thing, my name is Sangyeon,” the spirit answers, still warmly smiling. The knot in Younghoon’s stomach unravels just a little from the reassuring presence. Spirit emotional magic works wonders on the human body, especially those with inactive magic circuits. Younghoon doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
“O-okay, why me? Why now?” Younghoon stutters, less shaky now as he tries to drown himself in the spirit’s calming magic. Feeling returns to his fingertips, giving away the cold sting of the freezer door behind him as Younghoon flinches. The spirit—Sangyeon—sighs, stepping back as he scratches the back of his head.
“Yeah… about that. I think I took too long of a nap since they told me to start looking for an anchor, sorry. I only meant to sleep for a few years,” Sangyeon mumbles, cheeks dusting red in embarrassment before turning back to give Younghoon an assuring smile.
“But I’m here now! And you’ve only got four years left before they start throwing you into the selection pool, so let’s go!” Sangyeon proposes, trying to gesture towards the door. Younghoon frowns, furrowing his eyebrows together as his hands raise defensively.
“Wait,” Younghoon interrupts him, slowly trying to inch away from Sangyeon, “how do I know you’re not whisking me away for some death camp. Plus, why do I have to go with you? I like my family,” Younghoon reasons, trying to sound calm. Sangyeon hums in thought, stopping for a moment and tapping his chin. Younghoon thinks the mere suspense might kill him.
“Hmm, you’re right,” Sangyeon finally replies, pulling out his rapier from its holster. Younghoon flinches for real this time, holding up his pathetic cartoon of milk as he tries to shrink away. Before he fully gets to the position, the rapier turns into a phone, complete with a gold cover and the words ‘CREKER ACADEMY’ etched on the back. Younghoon stifles a gasp, having it come out as more of a strangled grunt. If Sangyeon heard it, he doesn’t comment
“I’m right?” Younghoon finally mumbles, watching as Sangyeon furiously types something into the phone. He’s about to debate running when a soft breeze tickles the hair on the back of his neck, almost ticklish and cold that makes him jump again. At this rate, Younghoon’s going to get a heart attack.
“This the guy?” A soft, melodic voice calls out from behind Younghoon. He whirls around and comes face to face with two boys, both around his ages and almost human, if not for the very obvious aura of magic around them. And the fact that they’re sitting on top of the freezer too, of course. One has vivid pink hair, almost akin to a rose as his delicate facial features morph into a soft frown. He’s fiddling with a small thread in his hands, which seems to be connected to the white-and-blue jacket hanging off of his shoulder.
“C’mon, Hee, trust Sangyeon a little, won’t you? He might be our future teammates,” his companion points out, a dimpled smile and bright orange hair sparkling under the soft afternoon sunlight. He’s pretty, a small voice in the back of Younghoon’s head whispers. They’re both pretty, Younghoon mentally argues back.
“Younghoon, meet Chanhee and Changmin,” Sangyeon announces, aura sparkling and increasing in brightness again as Chanhee eyes him like a new porcelain vase.
“They’ll be keeping an eye on you while I bring up this small problem with the school board,” Sangyeon explains, turning to leave. Younghoon’s eyes widen, his body moving before his mind could and grabbing Sangyeon’s arm before he leaves.
“Wait, why do I need bodyguards?” Younghoon asks, confused and panicked, “is something bad going to happen to me?” Younghoon cries, near-hyperventilation. A pulse of magic settles over him again like last time as Sangyeon turns to him with a sympathetic smile.
“All shadow creatures in the area know you’re an anchor now, Younghoon,” Sangyeon says sympathetically, “I’d be surprised an attack doesn’t happen within the next 24 hours.”
True to Sangyeon’s words, Younghoon does, in fact, get attacked. Numerous times, in fact, on his way to school, to the little mart, back home, even when he’s literally taking out the trash. His parents are every bit concerned, seemingly keeping a distance from him and refusing to stay and talk to him for too long. Even Dabin, his precious little sister who clings onto him so much, is steered away by his mother even when she just wants Younghoon to help her with her homework. The shadows haven’t broken into his house yet, but if the conversation Younghoon overheard from his parents means anything, they won’t risk exposing themselves more than necessary to the Shadow Realm. It’s simply too dangerous.
The sole bright spot is Chanhee and Changmin, although Younghoon’s not too sure how bright the spot is. To be fair, they’re the only reason he’s alive still, hovering over him in spirit form as an owl (Changmin) and a penguin (Chanhee), fending off waves after waves of shadow creatures. At some point Younghoon gives up on any semblance of a normal life, just sticking to the straight route to and from school. He learns a lot about Changmin and Chanhee in those couple of days, from Chanhee’s grudge against raw tomatoes to Changmin’s obsession with human horror movies. Younghoon shares his stories and fun facts in return, but spirits ultimately live much more interesting lives. There’s a small part of Younghoon that’s grateful for the new pair of comfortable friends as the token antisocial kid in any crowd, but he can’t help but feel so utterly lonely with just them. He supposes it’s why other anchors are so eager to go to these big academies. At least they fit in.
“Then why don’t you come too?” Chanhee asks whenever Younghoon brings up the thought. There’s a quirked eyebrow and a slight frown on his face as if he’s trying to reason with a child. Younghoon shrugs.
“It’s just… kind of uncomfortable, I guess,” Younghoon muses. He’s walking down the streets, Changmin asleep on his shoulder as the sun casts an orange tint over everything in sight. His school bag swings and hits his leg rhythmically with each step, a soft thud running in the air as Younghoon carefully plucks out his words.
“Like I’m practically being forced into becoming an Anchor with all the pressure and avoidance, you get me?” Younghoon decides on saying, kicking away a stray pebble as he digs his palms deeper into his blazer pockets. Chanhee gives him a sympathetic smile.
“Sometimes life's a bitch, isn’t it?” Chanhee chuckles, speeding up his pace ever so slightly to pull ahead of Younghoon. He turns back the last moment, hand outstretched as they both slow to a stop.
“But things happen for a reason, don’t you think? What’s the use of fighting fate?” Chanhee points out, a smile on his delicate features. An offer, Younghoon realizes, the same one he turned down a few weeks ago. A scowl fights its way onto Younghoon’s face, who ignores the hand and presses forwards and past Chanhee.
“I’m happy with my life, thank you very much,” Younghoon grumbles, and that's how the conversations end. They repeat far too many times in the coming days, sometimes with Changmin instead and sometimes in much less private places, but the outcome remains the same. At some point, it becomes a game of chicken of sorts, between Younghoon’s core philosophy of forging his own path versus the situation he’s been forced into.
Younghoon refuses to give in that easily
The shadow creatures are relentless with their attacks, so to say Younghoon has gotten good at running would be an understatement. Changmin and Chanhee are more than just competent fighters, however, often making quick work of the pesky shadows before Younghoon even has to move behind the nearest tree to hide.
Today is one of those days when Younghoon is ducking behind a random car as he tries to keep his head down. He risks a peek to see Changmin practically soaring through the air, zipping from one shadow creature to the next. He’s on one of their backs now, digging a spear into its back as he swings on it, throwing himself at another creature. There’s a glow of magic around his form and into the air as a black mist of sorts. One of the Shadows tries to strike him, only to move in an entirely wrong direction as Chanhee skewers him on his lance.
Changmin calls himself an illusionist, a perfect playboy smirk on his face as he messes with the shadow’s minds and creates illusionary holograms of himself in their vision before stabbing them with a sharp stick. Chanhee is sneakier about his approach, more patient in contrast to Changmin’s wild and fast-tempo bounce. His aura is slightly more muted, a faint link of energy connecting him and Changmin as he channels his power into Changmin. A power-up boost, Chanhee describes it, like supercharging Changmin’s power. Maybe not perhaps the strongest of duos, but they make it work, keeping Younghoon completely (physically) scratch-free for a week and a half. They’re not terrifying, per se, but Younghoon can’t help but worry about his potential future enemies if he chose to pursue this, ah, risky career path.
“It’s not as bad as you make it sound,” Changmin snorts, waving his breadstick in the air. He has an endless supply of them, pulled out of thin air whenever he defeats some creatures. Their essences, he claims, either explodes or becomes breadstick. Makes cleaning up a lot easier, apparently. Chanhee tries to hand Younghoon one, but thinking about how they’re basically fried sticks of dead Shadow Creatures just makes Younghoon lose his appetite a little.
“It is, though. Risking your life almost 24/7? It’s not for me,” Younghoon counters, grumbling stomach eventually giving in as the aroma of the breadsticks wins him over. Chanhee hands him one, still chewing on the one in his own mouth. Changmin just shakes his head at Younghoon.
“Sangyeon chose you for a reason. As someone who’s been saved by him many times, I trust his judgement,” Changmin says, trying to sway Younghoon over. He fails, understandably, but it’s a valiant attempt nonetheless.
“He could be wrong. I mean, he chose me at birth, right? People change when you’re not watching,” Younghoon argues. Changmin and Chanhee are quiet at this, unable to retort as Younghoon lets comfortable silence fall over them. He’s not difficult, just a realist.
And realistically, Younghoon could never become a hero.
“What’s it like over there?” Younghoon asks, half-sitting-half lying between the wall and his bed. Chanhee, in penguin form, is curled up in a ball, napping on Younghoon’s bed while Changmin in human form is practically draping himself over Younghoon. He’s the clingy one, Younghoon notes, more prone to physical displays of affection than Chanhee’s more verbal ones. Both are nice, Younghoon concludes, trying to ignore the skip in his heartbeat. He’s not entirely sure what that means.
“Over where?” Changmin asks, tilting his head up to meet Younghoon’s eyes from his perch on Younghoon’s shoulder. Younghoon shrugs.
“I don’t know, the spirit world? Seoul? The academy? Anything is fine, really,” Younghoon rambles, gesturing wildly with his free arm. Changmin hums in acknowledgement, a faraway look in his eyes as his lips quirk into a smile.
“Well for starters, the spirit world is more nature-y,” Changmin begins, his hands miming some indecipherable thing. Younghoon had found him to be prone to doing so, some gestures repeating enough to be decipherable, while most just staying as vague hand motions.
“Like more trees and forests?” Younghoon guesses, picturing the pretty forest backdrops he sees in video games. Changmin hums an odd noise, another indecipherable yet adorable Changmin habit, as he purses his lips.
“Well, yes but no. There’s a lot of forests, sure, but also other natural things. Like a lot more mountains and lakes. And magic plants. Too many magic plants,” Changmin explains, miming a tree growing from the ground. He’s incredibly expressive, like that. Younghoon chuckles at his explanation, shrugging it off as he’ll never get to visit the spirit world with a camera or something. Still, he hopes he could see it with his own eyes someday.
“What about Seoul?” Younghoon asks. Changmin sighs, drooping like a wilted flower closer to Younghoon’s left chest, and by extension, his heart, as he smiles a soft, wistful smile.
“Honestly?” Changmin begins, voice small and full of soft wonder as he recalls something, “you haven’t truly seen a cityscape until you’ve seen Seoul from the mountain line. Hee and I used to go up there all the time just for the view. It’s really nice.”
Younghoon smiles. “Sounds amazing. But what about inside the city? I heard it’s just really busy and a lot less nice.”
Changmin nods. “For the most part, yeah. Everything’s on a different beat to the rest of us. It’s nice though, just people-watching and guessing what they could be late for.”
Younghoon makes a disgruntled noise, slowly running out of arguments for refusing a position in the Anchorage Program.
“And the academy?” Younghoon asks. A soft smile blooms on Changmin's face like a rainbow peeking through the clouds, accentuated but a sigh.
“Like a second home, I guess,” Changmin muses, picking at a stray thread on Younghoon’s pillow. He’s fidgety, Younghoon notes, not in the sense of bouncing off the walls with energy, but more like a nervous child on a stage for the first time. He loves to dance, according to Chanhee, always itching for a chance to perform. He’d be a performer in another life, Chanhee tells Younghoon when they’re watching Changmin mingle with a nearby dance circle. Younghoon agrees, the ever-observant half of his brain noting how closely Changmin’s passion for dancing bleeds into his fighting style. There’s a certain grace and rhythm to his movement, even when he’s doing something as mundane as picking apart Younghoon’s pillow.
“How’d you meet Sangyeon, by the way?” Younghoon asks, trying to keep up a conversation. He doesn’t hate silence, per se, just revelling in the fact that he can talk to someone when everyone in town seems to be avoiding him like the plague.
“Sangyeon caught Hee and I trying to see how many pencils we could fit in one of our friends’ nostrils and just passed us more pencils. He’s also our boss, kind of. It’s complicated,” Changmin explains, chuckling to himself as a glint of mischievousness sparks in his eye.
“He seems fun,” Younghoon notes, chuckling as well as he tried to picture the scene. Changmin hums, dropping his head onto Younghoon’s lap as a yawn is drawn out of his mouth. It’s nearly 11 PM, judging from the digital clock practically glaring at Younghoon from the bedside table. There’s a dull hum of fatigue in the back of Younghoon’s mind, although it’s drowned in his thoughts as Younghoon sighs. Changmin’s light snores fill the room, ever the one to fall asleep easily. Younghoon envies him.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Younghoon mutters to himself, sitting alone in the darkness of his room, nothing but the dim light of the streetlamps outside keeping him company.
“How out of place you always are,” Younghoon mutters, letting his eyelids droop close.
See, Kim Younghoon should’ve known he was always a little more than meets the eye. Hailing from a family of Quips, people with warlock relatives but without magic themselves, Younghoon has always known about the vast number of magic circuits in his body. Dormant and silent, they don’t come out until he’s needed to absorb magic from another spirit. He’s like a sponge, according to his mom, soaking up excess magic from too-powerful spirits in order to help them transform into their human form. On some level, everyone knows Younghoon isn’t ever going to be just a normal citizen hiding away from the dangers of the world in the protection of the nations’ warlock and spirit teams. His mother had considered taking him to the city to try out for the Anchor program before, stopping only at the last minute when she realized she didn’t want to lose her son only three minutes old. According to Changmin, this was probably why he was so hard to track down.
Of course, Younghoon wasn’t really popular because of his predicament. It’s no unknown fact anchors attract Shadow creatures, eager for a quick and easy meal on a human with so many tasty magic circuits. He became an outcast of sorts, not really having any friends except for an old neighbour who moved away after elementary school. Jaehyun, the childhood friend, used to be the only one who could pull Younghoon out of his listless and shy bubble to feel the sunshine. But after he left, Younghoon reaccustomed himself back to people watching. He became more observant, easily spotting people who wouldn’t immediately run away from him. They were easier to hide among, that’s all. The auntie at the store was one of them, not caring how many magic circuits Younghoon had in his body so long as he remembers to close the freezer door. Apparently, that made him five times better than most of his peers.
Chanhee calls him a hermit at one point, discovering his old notebooks and journals about warlocks and spirits during his middle school obsession with heroes. He’s an observer, best at finding the little details in everyone’s actions but never acting on anything he finds. Chanhee compares him to a library, like a bank of information on people. Changmin compares him to a lonely squirrel in the rain, watching the world go by sadly. Younghoon would describe himself as a bit of both.
At some point, Younghoon accepts his new fate as a supposed main character in some hero story like the one in the mangas he loved to read. Changmin is sleeping on his shoulder, exhausted from fighting while Chanhee offers Younghoon a carton of strawberry milk. Younghoon takes it, only to fall forward when the bus hitches on the road. Their hands fall on each other for a moment and Younghoon finally shoves the lump in his throat out.
“I’ll do it,” Younghoon says, looking down to avoid Chanhee’s eyes, anxiety palpable in the air. Changmin, having just woken up and is rubbing his head from the sudden impact, blearily cracks an eye open at Younghoon.
“Do what? Drink the milk? You don’t have to. I’ll take it,” Changmin rambles, eyeing Younghoon’s beverage with a greedy eye. Chanhee slaps him on the shoulder, slipping his other hand into Younghoon’s palm as Younghoon grips, finally accepting his offer.
“Ignore him,” Chanhee mutters, a smile blossoming on his face as he pulls Younghoon back onto the seat to face him.
“Welcome to the team, Younghoon.”