Actions

Work Header

Somniate

Summary:

After Malleus overblot battle Silver felt something strange

.

 

.

 

" I'm home? "

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

The aftermath of the overblot battle left NRC in a state of quiet exhaustion.

The once-turbulent sky, swirling with Malleus’s storm, had settled into a soft twilight.

The cool evening breeze carried the scent of damp earth and scorched magic, rustling the trees overhead.

The world was still, save for the sound of ragged breathing and hushed voices.

Silver exhaled heavily, leaning against the concrete wall.

His sword felt heavier than ever in his grip, the weight of battle still pressing on his body.

His muscles trembled from the lingering strain, but his mind remained sharp.

His gaze instinctively swept over the battlefield, assessing, ensuring—

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Malleus was safe.

.

 

.

Lilia knelt beside him, whispering reassurances as the fae prince stirred.

Sebek, usually brimming with energy, sat close, his usual fervor dampened by exhaustion.Despite the chaos they had just endured, everything seemed as it should be.

And yet...

.

 

.

 

.

 

Silver's eyes drifted across the clearing, landing on Yuu.

They sat a little distance away, surrounded by familiar faces.

Grim clung tightly to Yuu’s coat, puffing up in distress, his voice an indignant grumble. Ace and Deuce flanked them, scolding with exaggerated exasperation.

"You really should’ve dodged better!" Ace huffed, crossing his arms.

"Next time, let me block for you," Deuce added, looking serious.

Yuu only smiled—soft, tired, a little sheepish.

"I’m okay, really."

It was a scene that should have felt normal....Comforting, even.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

But then....

Yuu turned to Silver.

Their gentle smile remained, a warmth in their expression that was achingly familiar.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Too familiar....

And for a split second—just the briefest, most fleeting of moments....Silver saw someone else standing behind them.

.

 

.

 

.

 

It was a man...

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

With Silver hair....

Dressed in a business attire, his figure blurred and indistinct, like an old memory struggling to surface. He stood just behind Yuu, unmoving, watching—

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

And then it was gone....

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

The moment passed so quickly that Silver almost doubted he had seen it at all. But the way his heart clenched..
.the way an unexplained longing curled deep in his chest...told him otherwise.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

A flicker of something missing.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"Who… was that?"

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"Silver?"

Lilia’s voice pulled him back to reality.

He blinked, turning toward his father. Lilia was watching him closely, concern flickering in his crimson eyes.

"Are you alright?"

Silver opened his mouth to answer...then hesitated. His gaze flickered back to Yuu.

They were still there, still surrounded by their friends, still the same.

The image was gone. The presence.....whatever it had been had vanished without a trace.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Had he imagined it?

.

 

.

 

.

 

No......

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Perhaps it was just exhaustion. A trick of the dimming light. The battle had drained him more than he realized.

"...I'm fine," he finally muttered.

Lilia studied him for a moment longer before nodding.

Silver turned away, sheathing his sword with a quiet click. The unease clawing at his mind refused to fade, but he pushed it aside.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Not now.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

He’d think about it later.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

But later never came—because that night the dreams began...

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

The world swirled around him.

A sky that wasn’t his own, filled with the blinding glare of metal and glass. Unfamiliar buildings that stretched above him, towering and suffocating....

A sharp noise—a car horn blaring.

Then....

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Pain....

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

A flash of light.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Desperate cries....echoed...

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"Watch out!"

The impact struck like lightning, but before he could feel the pain, the dream shifted....

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

A warm, sunny afternoon.

Laughter echoed through the air. A family of four.....two adults and two children sat on a picnic blanket beneath a tree.

A gentle breeze carried the scent of spring blossoms, and the golden sunlight dappled the grass around them.

A blurry face turned toward him, smiling.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"Gin!"

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

he.....name rang in his ears like an echo of something lost.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

The world flickered again.....

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

A sterile white room, lined with hospital beds. The beeping of machines filled the silence, rhythmic and steady.

A young man sat beside a hospital bed, his expression tired but filled with unwavering hope.

His voice was soft, full of emotion.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"You need to wake up."

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

He woke up.

Silver gasped, sitting up in bed. His heart pounded in his chest, the echo of wedding bells still ringing in his ears.

The room was dark, but the sensation of the dream lingered...

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Too vivid...

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Too real...

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

His breathing was uneven. He pressed a hand against his chest, as if trying to steady himself.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"Gin."

 

That name… It felt important. It felt like his.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

But that was ridiculous. He was Silverà Lilia’s son. A knight of Malleus

Then why......?

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Why did it feel like he was someone else too.....?

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

_____________________________________________________________

 

Days passed. The dreams persisted.

Every night, Silver found himself trapped in those strange, aching memories that did not belong to him...memories of warm, sunny afternoons, of voices calling names he did not recognize, of blinding lights and the echo of bells.

And every morning, he woke with his heart hammering in his chest, the weight of something unseen pressing against his mind.

But now, it wasn’t just his sleep that was haunted.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

It followed him into the waking world...

.

 

.

 

.

 

The whispers....those faint, indecipherable murmurs..clung to the edges of his thoughts, slipping between the cracks of his consciousness like mist.

His movements dulled, his once-flawless swordsmanship faltered. He missed beats in practice, his reactions slower, his thoughts clouded.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

It was like something else was slipping into him, overlapping with his very sense of self.

.

 

.

 

.

 

And Yuu noticed.

It started small. Subtle glances when he hesitated mid-strike, soft inquiries when he rubbed at his temple as if to push away a headache. But today, as they stood in the quiet of the Ramshackle courtyard, Yuu finally spoke.

"Silver?"

Their voice was gentle, threading through the fog in his mind like a tether. A steady presence.

He barely registered the way he had frozen, his body rigid, his breathing uneven. The world felt distant, like he was floating just outside of reality, unmoored.

Yuu stepped closer. "Are you okay?"

Silver turned to them slowly.

The concern in their expression was evident—genuine.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Familiar

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

But the moment he met their gaze, something shifted inside him.

Something stirred.

The words left him before he could even think.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"Nii-san."

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Silence.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

A silence so absolute it rang in his ears.

Yuu blinked. Their lips parted slightly, confusion flickering in their eyes.

"Huh?" they murmured. "What did you—"

Silver jerked back. His breath caught in his throat as the weight of what he had just said crashed over him. His hands clenched at his sides, fingers trembling.

"I—I apologize," he stammered, voice uneven, wrong.

"I don’t know why I said that."

He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand.

.

 

.

 

.

 

He had no siblings..

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Then why did calling Yuu that feel so natural?

.

 

.

 

..

 

.

 

Why did it feel like something deep inside him recognized. .them?

Yuu frowned, their concern deepening. They took another step forward, hand reaching out—but Silver turned sharply on his heel before they could get any closer.

He had to leave.

The courtyard blurred at the edges of his vision as he walked away, his movements stiff, unnatural. His hands were still shaking..

Even as he put distance between them, the word still echoed in his mind.

.

 

.

 

.

 

"Nii-san."

.

 

.

 

.

 

It wasn’t just a slip of the tongue.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

It wasn’t random.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Something was wrong.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

And Silver had a feeling this was only the beginning.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

________________________________________________________

The school year came to an end.

Spring stretched across Night Raven College in golden hues and the scent of blooming flowers.

The graduation ceremony was a whirlwind of emotions—laughter, cheers, and teary-eyed goodbyes.

For the third-year students, it was the closing of a chapter; for the underclassmen, a bittersweet farewell.

The graduates stood proudly on the grand stage, vice-housewardens standing beside them in silent support.

The sea of students gathered below, watching with admiration and, for some, quiet sorrow.

Even Silver...who had never considered himself overly attached to such things—felt the weight of the moment pressing down on his chest.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Then came the final tradition.

 

"Alright, everyone! Picture time!"

Cater’s voice rang out over the crowd, bright and cheerful, as he set up the camera.

Students scrambled into position—groups of friends huddling together, seniors pulling underclassmen into warm embraces.

The taller students crouched in front; Yuu sat in the center with Grim perched beside them, flanked by Deuce and Ace. The perfect image of a small, makeshift family.

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves overhead, sending delicate flower petals drifting through the air.

The sun filtered through the branches, casting golden streaks of light across the courtyard, painting everything in warmth.

Silver took a step forward.

And then..

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

He froze...

.

 

.

 

.

 

A shiver ran down his spine, not from the cool breeze but from something deeper, something he couldn’t name.

And then, softly, like a whisper carried by the wind—

"This was the last picture we took together."

A voice said...

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Distant..

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Sad

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

and Heartbreaking...

Silver’s breath stilled.

The weight of those words crashed over him, suffocating, pressing against his ribs until it hurt to breathe. His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"The last picture."

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Why did it sound like a farewell?

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Why did it feel like something was ending?

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"Silver! Hurry up!"

Sebek’s sharp voice jolted him back to reality.

Silver blinked rapidly, the courtyard coming back into focus, the warmth of the afternoon sun grounding him.

His pulse still pounded in his ears, but he forced himself to breathe, to push down the wave of unease threatening to drag him under.

He swallowed hard, forcing a small chuckle. "Coming."

His voice felt distant...like it didn’t belong to him.

With slow, deliberate steps, he moved into place beside Sebek, his body stiff but composed. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest, his mind screaming at him to question what was happening--to remember.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

But he didn’t.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

He couldn’t.

Instead, he smiled, just as the camera’s flash went off.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, before the world faded into white-

He heard the sound of bells ringing once more.
.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Soft.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Distant.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

A chime of something lost.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

A toll of something forgotten.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

" It's time to go home.."

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

______________________________________________________ Tokyo, Japan – Bunkyō Ward

The scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the hospital room, sterile and cold.

Machines hummed softly, their rhythmic beeping marking the passage of time in a place where time seemed to stand still.

For three years, the silver-haired boy had lain there, untouched by the world outside these walls.

The seasons had come and gone without him. The cherry blossoms had bloomed and fallen. The summer cicadas had cried and vanished. The autumn leaves had withered and drifted away. Snow had covered the city in white, melting into spring once more.

And yet, through it all, he had remained unmoving.

The young man entered the room as he always did, his movements careful, reverent, as if afraid to break the fragile silence.

He set a small paper bag down beside the bed—a quiet ritual long since ingrained in him.

Inside were neatly packed strawberries and blueberries.

He took his seat by the bedside, reaching out with a trembling hand to brush silver strands away from the boy’s face.

"...Gin," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I brought your favorite fruits again. Strawberries and blueberries... just like always."

His throat tightened.

"Dad... he regrets that fight you two had. We all miss you. You need to wake up, Gin. Please..."

The silence stretched on, deafening.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he pulled out his phone, staring at the screen with a small, bittersweet smile.

"Do you remember that game we used to play? Twisted Wonderland?" His voice was quiet, wistful.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"The final update came out."

.

 

.

 

.

 

His fingers hovered over the screen, as if hesitant to open it.

"Yuu finally had to make their choice. Stay in NRC… or return home."

A small, humorless chuckle left him.

"It’s funny, isn’t it? No matter what they choose… the story ends."

His gaze shifted back to his brother’s sleeping form, his expression breaking into something raw, something painfully human.

"But… what about you, Gin?" His voice cracked.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"Do you get a choice?"

A part of him had already accepted it—that Gin would never answer. That this was all that remained.

That the silence would stretch on forever.

But then—

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

A sound.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Soft.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Barely there.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

A groan.

His breath caught in his throat.

His fingers tightened around the sheets as he watched, frozen—

Gin’s fingers twitched.

A quiet, shuddering breath left the boy’s lips. His eyelashes fluttered.

And then—

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Aurora-colored eyes opened.

The heart monitor beeped rapidly.

The young man’s breath hitched, his chest tightening with disbelief, with hope, with something too overwhelming to name.

"...Gin?" His voice wavered, as if afraid this was a dream.

The boy blinked slowly, his vision hazy. His body felt foreign—too light, too heavy, too strange.

His gaze drifted upward, to the ceiling.

His head felt... empty. As if something had been there, once, something vast and unnameable, but it had slipped away.

Yet—

.

 

.

 

.

 

Somewhere, deep in his chest, something ached.

.

 

.

 

.

 

Something he couldn’t understand.

A weight pressed down on him, a grief he couldn’t name, a hollow space inside of him that should have been filled.

And before he could think...

His lips parted, the words slipping out instinctively, unbidden—

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"Nii-san."

His voice was hoarse from years of silence, barely more than a breath.

And the moment he said it—

Tears slipped down his cheeks.

His body trembled, his heart twisting with something raw, something unbearable.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Why did it hurt?

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Why did his chest feel so tight?

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Why did it feel like something was missing—something important....

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Something he should remember?

.

 

.

 

His hands curled weakly into the sheets, his breath uneven.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

It felt like he had lost something precious.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Something he would never get back.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

But he didn’t know what.

His brother gasped, eyes wide, before quickly wiping at his own tears. He grasped Gin’s trembling hands, squeezing them tightly.

"Gin..." His voice broke with relief.

"You’re awake..."

Gin swallowed, his throat dry, his body aching. His thoughts were scattered, disjointed, slipping through his fingers like sand.

But still....

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Still, that feeling lingered.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

That deep, aching loss.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

' What is it? '

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"...I’m home?"

The words felt strange on his tongue, as if he wasn’t sure they belonged to him.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

A question.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

A statement.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

A plea.

His brother let out a shaky laugh, nodding quickly.

"Yeah," he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

"You’re home, Gin."

Notes:

0.0 😙😙

Series this work belongs to: