Chapter Text
You shift in your seat, trying to get comfortable, but your right knee protests with a sharp ache. Across the table, your friend is leaning over their notebook, scribbling furiously, muttering about some fish—armed hero and a weird, brooding kid with a striped shirt. You glance at the pages—Undyne in all her glory, fists raised, eyes blazing, and some half—finished doodle of a kid that looks… slightly off.
“Are you seriously drawing this again?” you ask, trying to sound amused, but your voice comes out tighter than intended. Your cane rests against the desk, ready to support your weight when you stand.
Your friend doesn’t look up. “Shh! This is important! Look at the epic scale of her fin… I mean, you’d understand if you actually played the game!”
“Not happening,” you say, waving a hand. “I don’t have time for games right now.”
The bell rings, sharp and sudden, and you wince, feeling that familiar pinch in your right knee. School’s finally over. You grab your cane and push yourself up carefully, making sure to shift your weight and avoid putting too much strain on your right knee as you get ready to leave.
“Wait!” your friend calls, bounding over. “Come with me! I found a place — it’ll be quick, I promise. I know you can’t walk too far…”
You glance at your cane, weighing the effort. “I… I don’t know…”
“Please!” they plead, eyes wide. “It’ll be fun! Just a little detour. I’ll make it easy for you, I swear.”
With a sigh, you give in, trusting your friend more than your better judgment.
The air is crisp outside the school as you step onto the sidewalk, hand gripping tightly your cane. Each tap against the pavement helps support your weight, especially as your knee protests with every step. Your friend chats nonstop, weaving stories about the “cool place” you’re about to see, but the effort of each stride makes your breath come in shallow, uneven bursts.
Twenty minutes in, and you’re already struggling. Your hand tightens around the cane, muscles trembling with effort as your knee protests with every step. Your friend slows down a bit, glancing back with concern.
“Hey, are you… okay?” they ask.
“I… I’m fine,” you gasp, though your legs feel like lead, especially that stubborn right one. “Just… a little tired.”
Your friend nods, muttering something about “almost there,” but the excitement in their voice only makes the distance ahead feel longer. You lean more heavily on your cane, forcing one foot in front of the other, bracing against the pain, willing yourself to keep moving.
Every step is a reminder of the hard mode life you’ve always played, but you refuse to stop. Not yet.
After another ten minutes of slow, careful walking, you finally arrive. Your knee aches sharply with every step, your cane feels heavier than ever in your hand, and your breath comes in short, uneven gasps. You blink at the building in front of you.
It’s… abandoned. Graffiti on the walls, broken windows, a metal door hanging slightly off its hinges. You suppress a groan, leaning more heavily on your walking stick to steady yourself.
“Really?” you mutter, voice tight with exhaustion and mild irritation. “We walked all this way for… this?”
Your friend waves a hand, grinning like it’s the entrance to a palace. “C’mon! It’s not that bad! Just wait, you’ll see!”
You huff, muttering under your breath, “Yeah, sure… I’ve waited my whole life for rubble and broken glass.” But despite your annoyance and the throb in your knee, you step forward, carefully maneuvering past debris, leaning on the cane for support and determined not to let your fatigue or the stupid building stop you.
You start following them inside. The air is cooler now, shadows stretching across the floor, and your cane clicks against scattered debris as you pick your way carefully, trying not to put too much weight on your knee which was kinda done after that thirty minute walk.
They stop suddenly. You freeze, a few feet behind, and notice the pit before you — deep, dark, swallowing the floor beneath it. Your stomach twists. You edge closer, cane tapping nervously, every step making your knee ache more as you take in the yawning drop.
“Whoa…” you murmur, voice shaky. “This… this is dangerous.”
Your friend doesn’t answer. Just stands there for a moment, looking over the edge. You glance at them, expecting a comment —anything— but all you see is that wide grin, that mischievous glint in their eyes.
Before you can react, there’s a shove.
You stumble, heart lurching, breath catching in your throat. Your right knee buckles, your cane slipping from your grasp, and the world tilts. There’s no warning, no words, just the sudden, horrifying drop beneath your feet. Panic floods every nerve as you scramble, flailing instinctively, but gravity has already taken hold.
The last thing you see is your friend’s grin, frozen in your mind for a heartbeat, before the ground disappears entirely.