Chapter Text
Philza wasn't sure why he had been in the woods for hours, but it eventually turned out to be the best decision he had ever made.
He worked as a freelance mercenary, as he had been for the past 10 years, and it was fulfilling enough. Some odd jobs here and there, a couple occasional bounties, and the young 22 year old was set for the rest of his life.
Recently, he had been hired by this new group of men to track down and capture a ‘young fugitive’, whom the group had been hunting for months. Phil was a bit hesitant to take the job, but eventually, after being promised double his normal income, he accepted.
He only knew a few details about his target, with most information being confidential; young (no specific age range other than that), with pale pink hair. The target was last seen wearing old, baggy clothes, which gave Phil the impression that this could’ve been a runaway of some kind.
He has set up nets around his camp area, where his employers said the target was often spotted, either scavenging for food or gathering supplies for a shelter. Based on everything he had been told, Phil couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at the prospect of hunting someone who already seemed to be down on their luck.
A shuffle of a nearby brush pulled Phil’s thoughts back to reality, as he slowly brought his hand close to his knife, attached securely to his side. He approached the noise slowly, keeping himself low to the dirt floor. Phil knew he had a trap set up nearby, so it shouldn’t be be long before-
WOOSH
Phil heard his net trap active, meaning it had effectively caught something; hopefully the target. He approached slowly, as to not cause any panic, as the struggling noises got louder and louder.
“Fuck.” Phil heard the trapped target hiss. The hunter froze, slightly stunned. That couldn’t’ve been the right target, they sounded to be no older than a child.
Phil finally got close enough to the trap to get a better look at the situation, and gasped at the sight. There, in the net suspended off the ground, was undoubtedly a child. With the kid’s pale pink hair tied in a messy bun, and his oversized clothes that looked worn to death, Phil knew.
His target was a child.
“Are you with them?” A voice asked
Phil looked up. The child had stopped struggling in the net, and had instead locked eyes with the older man below him. The child’s eyes were far too dull and broken for someone his age, and the idea of the things the poor child had to go through scared Phil to no end.
“Are you with them?” The child asked again, extremely blunt and to the point. His hands wrapped around the rope of the net, his fingers bloody and bruised.
“With who?” Phil asked curiously. He approached the net closer, making sure that his knife wasn't visible; he didn't want to scare the child anymore than he already had.
The child tilted his head, as if to ask ‘are you serious?’ “The bad men.” he answered hesitantly. “The bad men with the white pins.”
Phil swallowed. Only now did it occur to him that the men who had hired him had all been wearing white pins on their shirts. It had a symbol Phil didn’t recognize, and it wasn’t something he had dared to ask about.
The older man hesitated, unsure of whether or not to be completely honest. “Sorta.” Phil decided, approaching the net again slowly. The child backed away a bit, and gave Phil a curious look, silently urging him to continue.
“They hired me to chase after you, I think you’re my target.” Philza explained gently. The child snorted, as though the whole situation was incredibly funny.
“Yeah, you’re going to do a bit more than ‘chase me’, I bet.” The kid laughed, still making direct eye contact with the man on the ground below him. He seemed smart, but there wasn’t anything that made this kid seem worth a large amount of trouble.
Phil gave the child a concerned look, and couldn't help but wonder how much trouble this kid had already been in. “I don’t hurt children.” He said plainly, getting closer to the net in order to cut the trap away.
“Oh, that’s a new one…” The child trailed off, crossing his arms in disbelief. It hurt Phil to know that being hunted wasn’t just a one-time experience, and he didn't dare to imagine the things the kid had been through.
“I can cut you down.” Philza offered seriously, looking up at the boy above him. He made it to the base of the tree where the net trap was set, and began to cut the rope away with one of his knives.
“I’ll just run away.” The child scoffed, as though Phil were the dumbest man in the world. The older man only shrugged in response, and continued to cut down the trapped kid. Eventually, the rope frayed enough to where he could slowly set the child onto the wooded ground, without letting him free fall six feet.
“Hold still.” Philza instructed, finally cutting away the last piece of rope left in order to release his catch. The net fell around the child, who looked confused; as though despite what the older man had said about freeing him, the child hadn’t believed it.
The young boy looked towards the thick brush, then back at the man in front of him. “I can leave? You’ll let me run?” He asked cautiously, as though Phil’s act of kindness was a cruel trick.
Phil nodded his head slightly. “I won't chase after you.”
The child sniffled quietly, before rising to his feet, letting himself look back towards the free wild. He took a step away from Phil, gave him a polite nod, then scampered back into the wild.
Philza looked fondly where the child had just been, the slightest bit of concern shimmering in his eyes. That poor child, who had to have been no older than ten, was out there all alone, fending for himself.
The 22 year old sighed, shaking his head as he gathered the rope at his feet. Hopefully, the kid could make it back to his family, somewhere safe enough where he wouldn't have to worry about hunters for a while. He only hoped the kid would be able to take care of himself, but it was mainly wishful thinking.
Phil made his way back to his original campsite, as he began packing up his things. He could always go back to his employers and say that he couldn’t catch the child (god forbid what that would do to his reputation, though) and end up not getting paid.
His deep thoughts were interrupted by a pained yelp coming from behind him, causing him to drop everything in his hands and run towards the source of the noise.
Phil pushed past numerous branches and leaves before he stopped short, to find the young child he had seen a mere handful of minutes ago, collapsed on the floor looking bloodied and bruised.
“Kid!” Philza exclaimed, sliding down to the floor to get a better look at the child. It seemed like he had tripped over something, giving his cut up and sore ankle, though it didn't explain why he was bleeding so badly. “What happened?!”
“The men.” The child coughed, pushing himself away from Phil and up to his feet. “They found me, probably from following you.” He shot the older man a look of betrayal, as though he had created a set-up to recapture the child.
“Shit.” Phil cursed, giving the child a quick once over. Other than the bruised ankle and bloody arm (which he had only seen just then), the kid looked relatively okay, but still extremely exhausted.
“I have to hide you, I can’t let them take you.” Philza demanded, scooping up the child in his arms and rising to his feet. The kid weighed practically nothing, which didn’t help to ease the older man’s worries.
The kid looked up at him as Phil ran back to his camping area. “Why?” The child asked, too tired to try and fight his way out of the man’s grip.
Phil made his way back to where he had left his stuff, and gently placed the kid against the trunk of the tree. He could hear the orders of the men being barked in the distance, slowly but surely getting closer to.
“Okay kid, sorry to spring this on you, but can you climb trees?”
The kid nodded, and Phil let out a sigh of relief. He had a semblance of a plan now, one that was fairly simple, but still one that would work. “Alright climb this tree, as high as you can. You won't be able to see from up there, but don't be scared. Stay up there until I call for you, okay?”
“I don't like heights…” The kid mumbled, as Phil lifted him up on one of the lower-reaching branches. The older man grimaced, leaving the kid grabbing onto one of the branches tightly.
“Sorry kid.” he apologized, looking around frantically. “It looks like we don't have much of a choice right now. Just hide. I promise I'll come back for you.” And with that, Phil ran off, the child swallowing his fear, and moving up each branch slowly.
He couldn’t let the nice man get caught with him. He’d climb and hide until it was safe, waiting for the man to come back.
Phil ran through the forest, trying to intercept with the hunters before they could get to the kid. There was no guarantee that they wouldn’t hurt Phil, but he had to, at least, delay them from finding their target.
It was just turning night when Phil finally returned to the tree where he had left the child. It had taken him a while to convince the hunters to leave the area, saying how the child had run the opposite way. After showing the blood on his hands from when he had ‘captured’ the target, the hunters believed him. They paid the man for his troubles and help (thought not as much as he would’ve been paid for bringing the target alive), and headed in the direction that Phil had pointed.
It took awhile for Philza to find the exact tree that he had left the child in, the branches illuminated by the setting sun. He knocked on the trunk of the tree, looking up to see if he could spot a small kid scampering up on the branches. “Hey kid, I’m back, it’s safe to come down now.”
There was no response, and Phil grew nervous. Did the Hunters somehow find their way back here? Did the kid fall out of the tree, or did a wild animal get to him first? He knocked on the tree trunk again, this time more urgently. “Hey kid, you up there?”
A shuffling of the thick green leaves above startled him, and for a second, Phil was afraid he had accidentally gotten the attention of a wild animal. To his relief, the kid poked his head out through the branches, a tired look on his face. “Sorry, I’m still here..” The child surveyed the area, then turned his attention to the man below him. “Are they gone?”
Phil nodded, gesturing for the kid to come down. “They’re gone, I promise. I sent them in the opposite direction to where we are now.”
The kid nodded, relieved, his eyes slightly less tired than before. “That’s good, I guess.” The child chewed on his lip. “Can you, uh, help me down?” He asked, embarrassed.
The 22 year old let out a small laugh, agreeing to help as he directed which branch the child should stand on, and which branch to avoid. Eventually, the pink haired child made it low enough from Phil to grab him, and place him on the floor gently.
The kid stood awkwardly, rocking back and forth on his feet. “So, do you want me to go?” He questioned, his eyes shifting back and forth.
“Hang on a minute.” Phil advised, digging through one of his camping bags. “Your arm, it’s still bleeding.” The older man found a roll of cloth in his bag that he could use to wrap the wound, and held it in his hand.
The kid stood still, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Eventually, he sat himself down on the stump of an old cut down tree, and lifted up the sleeve of his shirt to show his wound. Phil took a closer look, kneeling onto the dirt to bring himself down to the child’s level.
The wound wasn’t too deep, but it was painful enough where the boy hissed in pain when Phil tried to clean away the area. The older man hummed, trying to keep the boy calm to ensure he didn’t panic, or pass out from the loss of blood.
“What’s your name?” The boy’s tiny voce asked, looking up at the man who was taking care of him. Phil tried to hide his surprise, he didn’t expect the kid to try and make conversation.
“My name’s Phil.” He answered, putting some gentle pressure on the opened wound. “I’m 22, and I work as a freelancer.” Phil gave the kid a bit more information about him, hopefully enough to get the kid to trust him.
The child nodded slowly, as if the answer satisfied him. He flinched slightly at each touch of the blonde’s hand, but eventually began to relax.
“And you?” Phil asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. “What’s your name? How old are you?”
The kid stayed silent, and Phil, worried he was pushing his boundaries, didn’t pry any further. Eventually, the older blonde finished wrapping the wound with the cloth, and tied the ends into a knot to secure it.
Phil moved on to the child’s forehead. It was scraped and bruised slightly above his left eyebrow, but it didn’t seem like it would scar, which was a relief. Nevertheless, he pushed the child’s long pink hair out of the way to clean up the cut. The kid didn’t look at him, avoiding eye contact while looking straight ahead.
The blonde took a step back to survey the kid a bit more. With wounds wrapped and face cleaned up, he looked like any other kid, save for the long and tangled strands of pink hair covering part of the child’s face.
“Can I try something?” Phil asked cautiously, moving his hands away from the boy to give him personal space. The boy nodded, slightly confused, but the older man supposed it was a start having already gained a bit of his trust.
He positioned himself behind the boy, his knee digging to the dirt floor as he kneeled. Phil ran his fingers through the boy’s hair, eventually sectioning it into three parts. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was going with this, but after a couple of minutes, the hair was neatly intertwined with itself in a nice braid. The hair, not out of the boy’s eyes, reached just below his shoulders.
Phil blinked in surprise when the boy started feeling his own hair. He hadn't realized what he had been doing, and was much more surprised that he remembered how to braid hair after almost seven years.
The child looked entranced at his own hair with shock, like he had never paid much attention to its existence before. He ran his finger over the braided design slowly, taking great caution to not mess up his hair. It was hardly Phil’s best work, but to the child, it was like he had been paid in gold.
“Technoblade.” The child said suddenly, dropping the braid out of his hands and onto his shoulder. “That’s my name; Technoblade. I’m almost 12.”
Phil froze for a minute, the gears in his head turning. It was an odd name, to be sure, but the type of name sounded familiar. With one final click, it occurred to Phil what was going on. The name of the kid sounded very similar to the name of some creatures he had come across on his journey. A peaceful but suspicious group, usually steering clear of anyone unlike them. They were most known for their pig-like mutations, with swine ears, teeth, and different colored hair…
This kid wasn't human. He was....
“Technoblade.” Phil repeated, the name sounding unfamiliar, yet welcoming on his tongue. “Techno for short?” He asked hypothetically, the nickname sounding decidedly safer to use around strangers.
The kid-Technoblade shrugged noncommittally, as though his name was the furthest thing from his mind right now.
“Alright Techno, now, this may sound a bit crazy.” Phil began, as the child looked at him with curiosity. The 22 year old continued on. “And you don’t have to say yes, but…”
“How’d you like to stay with me for a while?”