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Technoblade’s first instinct upon finding a small child in his home pillaging his things is -contrary to popular opinion- not to kill it.
Shocker, I know.
Maybe it’s because the kid is very obviously a piglin of some kind. Maybe it’s because the view of this tiny, bumbling child trying to shoulder one of his old capes is incredibly reminiscent of two children he had once been fond of. Maybe it’s because when the kid turns, there is no fear in their eye. They stare up at him in wonder, cape long forgotten.
“...Hullo,” he grumbles after a moment, stooping down to be closer to the kid’s height. They haven’t learned how to shift yet, so their little nose twitches as they sniff the air. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
The little piglin makes soft noises, a tiny gold sword attached to their belt. Techno peers at it a little closer, and he realizes relatively quickly that it’s blunt. Still a toddler, then.
“You lost?” He asks them, and they simply tilt their head to the side. He tries again in Piglin, not feeling the tiniest bit of surprise when the kid doesn’t respond to that, either. He watches them rub their hands together under their gloves, staring up at him with one big eye, and he almost recognizes the mannerisms. They remind him of-
“Michael! Where’d you go, buddy?”
Ranboo. He knew he recognized the mannerisms. The little piglin perks up at the shout, scurrying toward the closed door and pushing on it. Techno stands back to his full height and peers out the window, snorting to himself when he sees Ranboo frantically searching through piles of snow.
“You lose somethin’?” he calls, biting back a smile when Ranboo jumps. Mismatched eyes turn to him from outside, face pulled tight in worry.
“Oh- Techno- hi,” he says, clearing his throat and fiddling with his own hands. Techno glances down by his feet where the little piglin -Michael- does much the same. Ranboo shuffles closer to the cottage. “Well- you see, I’m looking for my son.”
“You have a son?”
“Well-” oh, this is too good. “I do, yeah. He’s, um, about this tall, pink, wearing a brown parka, uh-”
Techno looks down at Michael again, raising an eyebrow in question. Michael only has one eyebrow, so he seems to mimic him. Tiny hands fist in the fabric of his pants as Michael tries to peer out the window as well, but he’s far too short. Techno nudges him toward the door and unlatches it, pushing it open with little effort, and watches Michael barrel down the stairs toward his father.
“You found him!” Ranboo exclaims, face lighting up in joy. It pulls at the scars on his face in an odd way, most likely painful, if Techno knows anything about burn scars, but Ranboo doesn’t seem to mind. He lifts Michael onto his hip and hugs him as though he’s afraid he’ll disappear.
“He was robbin’ me, Ranboo, you’re raising a criminal.”
Ranboo laughs softly, fond in a way that Techno has only seen on Phil, and he shakes his head. “Nope, he gets that from Tubbo.”
There’s a moment, a split second, where Ranboo seems to realize exactly what he’s said. Techno resists the urge to react outwardly, far more focused on the way Ranboo seizes up. His shoulders tense, and his gaze snaps to Techno in fear.
He could react a lot of ways. He could say a lot of things, all of which he knows will probably wreck the kid’s spirits. But he’s getting better about doing things like that- reacting impulsively. Yeah, maybe impulsiveness is kind of his brand, but there are things at stake, here. He’s not going to go and ostracize another kid who he actually kind of likes the company of.
“You might want to have a talk with him about that, then,” Techno says at last, and he leaves it there. Ranboo visibly deflates, relief palpable on his face. “Can’t have him runnin’ around and stealing from people all the time.”
“Right- right. Of course. Sorry about that, Techno, I’ll- I’ll do that.”
He waves at Michael as he’s carried away before he steps back into his own house, running a hand down his face.
When did he get soft?
Always have been, the voices tease, Technosoft. Brotherblade.