Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Subaru once thought the Star was a gift. 

The first time he truly saved Meili, he felt something fragile and perfect: hope. They lived together, grew older together, laughed together. For a fleeting moment, it felt like the endless pain had finally stopped.

Then the universe struck. A branch fell. An illness claimed her. Something impossible, something he couldn’t predict, snatched her away.

So he choose to go back. Every time. Every death. Every cruel twist. Every impossible failure. He forced himself to relive moments, to protect her, to fix what had broken and every time, he failed. He realized something terrible: he was the danger. His obsession chained the world, tied it to him, dragged everything into suffering.

Chara had been there at first, teasing, guiding, keeping him tethered to the boy he once was. But even she couldn’t endure it. One day, after yet another death, she vanished. Leaving him alone.

Eventually, his world itself broke. Not through death, not through the Star, but because of him. The loops, the obsession, the relentless force of trying to save her shattered reality. And still, she remained. Her body, frozen in time inside the coffin he had built, stayed with him a fragile anchor to the only thing he had ever loved.

He looked into the broken fragments of existence. Other realities, other versions of himself. Worlds where Meili lived. Worlds where he had never existed. Worlds where everything was different. And he understood the truth: he tied the world to himself. His presence, his obsession, brought pain. He caused her death, again and again.

He spoke softly, to her in the coffin, to himself, to all the versions of her he could see:

“I realised … I’m the reason. The reason you lost your smile. The reason the hope in your eyes has been stolen. I see it in every world, in every version of you. Maybe… maybe you’d have a better life if I weren’t here. If I didn’t exist to drag the world and you into pain.”

He looked at the other Subarus, hopeful, alive, trying and he hated them, because he knew the truth. He was the danger. He was the curse. Every fleeting moment of happiness, every possibility of a normal life, reminded him of it.

“I’ll fix this,” he whispered again, to her, to himself, to the world he had broken. “I’ll erase every version of me who could hurt you by trying. Then… maybe, finally… you can rest.”

He carried her coffin across fractured realities. The chains rattled with every step. Shadows stretched across the broken world. And so he hunted every version of himself that still clung to hope, every reflection that could repeat his mistakes. Older, colder, merciless, he carried the consequences of his obsession like a weight no one else could bear.

And so he will Hunt. Would never rest. He would never forgive himself. And every world he touched would carry the cost of his love.

Chapter Text

The wild hunt Origin

This Subaru was once like the others stubborn, reckless, filled with hope. But when his wife died, he did the one thing he swore never to do he used the save star’s power to rewind time again and again, desperately trying to undo fate.

He rewound his world thousands of times, clawing at every possible path, each time hoping he could bring her back.

But there was no path, no branch, no miracle where she lived.

And so his reality cracked. Time itself broke. His world became a blank void, and he became the only thing left alive in it him and the black save stars.

Unlike the golden save stars that filled him with determination, his now only fill him with remorse. Every reset heals him, but also reminds him of the one truth that his mistakes cannot be erased.

The Black Save Stars

They orbit him constantly, dark suns that reset his body whenever he’s harmed.

Wounds vanish, stamina returns, exhaustion fades he cannot truly die as long as they remain.

Their glow is not hopeful. It burns with guilt, regret, and sorrow a constant reminder of his word that world he destroyed.

They are both his curse and his chains.

Subaru can tear through the walls of reality, entering other worlds.

There, he seeks alternate versions of himself. To him, this is not murder it is mercy.

He believes that by killing those Subarus, he frees both them and their worlds from the endless cycle of suffering that comes with their existence.

Each kill is also penance every blade swung is his way of saying, “I’ll take the burden you should have never had.”

Corpse-Summoning

When he slays another Subaru, the black stars prevent their revival.

Their bodies are drawn back to him, and he can summon them as corpse-knights, fighting under his command.

They wear fragments of their old selves cracked armor, broken swords, shredded uniforms.

They are empty echoes, stripped of will, but their presence reminds him of the infinite suffering he seeks to end. 

Weapon

His weapon is a massive thorned greatsword, heavy and twisted. And He also has 3 daggers in each of his belt.

He store's the greatsword inside a black save star, pulling it out only when needed.

The coffin on his back, however, he never hides it. Made of thorns, it contains the preserved body of his beloved.

He often talks to it when he’s alone, whispering confessions, regrets, or simply her name. To him, the coffin is not a burden it’s all he has left.

Personality and Traits

Gruff, silent, action over words. He does not boast or explain himself often.

His one rule never hurt someone more than needed.

The only exception is himself he believes his suffering is his form of repentance.

He is a man hollowed by loss, but not empty. His purpose drives him forward like a blade through flesh.

He is not cruel. When he kills, it is clean, efficient, like an executioner who believes it is mercy.

Weakness

So long as the save stars follow him, he is unkillable, and has an endless stamina.

The only way to destroy him is to drag him back to his broken world, where the stars first bound him.

But finding that void is nearly impossible it is lost in the endless sea of worlds, even he does not know where it is.

He is a contradiction a man who kills himself in infinite worlds to save them, while carrying the coffin of the one person he could never save. His stars keep him alive, but only to ensure he can continue his crusade of remorse. To others, he is a monster. To himself, he is a sinner who has not yet suffered enough.

Short story

The night at Roswaal’s mansion was calm. Wind brushed faintly against the shutters, the occasional groan of old wood filling the silence.

For once, Subaru had managed to sleep. Or at least, something close enough. His arms were wrapped around Beatrice like a lifeline, the little spirit pressed against him despite her usual complaints.

“Mmm… stop hugging me so tight, in fact,” she muttered, eyes closed, her tone drowsy and half-hearted.

“You say that every night,” Subaru mumbled back, his voice thick with sleep. “But you don’t push me away either…”

Her cheeks flushed faintly. “That’s because you’d just cry if I left, I suppose…”

Before Subaru could retort, the world broke.

A crack like glass shattering thundered through the mansion. The walls trembled, dust raining from the ceiling. The bed jolted, and Subaru bolted upright, heart hammering.

“What the hell was that!?”

Beatrice’s eyes snapped open, wide and sharp. “…That wasn’t normal.” She scrambled off the bed, hair bristling with mana, turning toward the far wall.

Cracks of white light raced across the surface like veins of lightning. The air warped, trembling with the pressure of something forcing its way through. Then, with a sound like the heavens collapsing, the wall exploded outward.

From the light stepped a figure. Boots dragged, chains rattled, and a coffin bound in thorns clinked against his back.

And his face.

Subaru’s breath stopped cold. “…No way.”

Beatrice froze, voice trembling. “…Subaru?”

The intruder looked like him. Same frame, same hair, same face but older. His eyes were voids, ringed with exhaustion, unblinking. His grip tightened around a massive blade twisted like thorns. Black stars hovered around him, circling endlessly, their glow suffocating.

The mansion shook with his arrival. The air grew heavy with an unexplainable grief.

The sound of footsteps thundered down the hall.

“Subaru! Beatrice!” Emilia’s voice rang out as she rushed toward the room.

Ram and Rem burst in first, then Roswaal, Otto, Garfiel, Frederica. All froze when they saw the figure.

“…Barusu?” Ram’s voice was sharp, cutting through the silence.

Rem’s lips trembled. “…That looks like Subaru-kun… but it isn’t.”

Emilia’s breath caught. “Subaru’s right here, then who…?”

The figure raised his head. His voice, when it came, was low and jagged, as if pulled from a throat long unused.

there is no world where she lives. No world where we can win.

Do you understand? There is no path forward for us. No salvation. Only endless suffering.

That’s why… I’ll free you. And this world. Before you learn the truth I did.”

And with that, the blade rose.

“Subaru!!” Emilia screamed, throwing ice across the floor. Spears of frost surged toward the intruder, jagged and sharp.

Beatrice shoved her small arms forward. “You will not touch betty's subaru, I suppose!!” A barrier erupted, blocking the first swing.

Garfiel roared, leaping with claws extended. “Yer not layin’ a damn finger on my Captain!!”

Rem swung her flail, the chain whipping toward the Hunter’s arm. “Stay away from Subaru-kun!”

Ram’s wind spell crackled, lashing out. “Barusu may be useless, but he is our useless man.”

Frederica dashed in with sharpened claws. “You will not harm Subaru-sama!”

Roswaal’s painted grin slipped, a spark of seriousness flaring in his mismatched eyes. “My, my… how troublesome. But I cannot have you ruin my plans just yet, hmm?”

All of them attacked at once.

The Hunter moved like inevitability itself.

Garfiel’s claws met the thorned greatsword and were swatted aside. He slammed into the wall with a snarl of pain.

Emilia’s ice shattered, shards raining uselessly across the floor.

Ram’s wind cut only empty air as the figure strode forward.

Rem’s flail coiled, only for the Hunter to grip the chain and fling her across the room.

Frederica’s claws struck his side, but black stars flared, wounds his wound vanishing instantly. She was kicked back.

Roswaal’s spell of fire erupted the stars absorbed it, warping the flames into nothing.

Beatrice’s barrier cracked again. “I-I can’t hold it much longer!”

Subaru stood frozen, heart pounding so violently he thought his chest would burst. His double’s gaze held him like prey, crushing him with its weight.

The others cried out in desperation, forcing their battered bodies to stand again, but none of them could stop him. The Hunter’s steps were steady, merciless, every swing bringing him closer.

Subaru’s legs gave way. His hands trembled. Why… why me?

The greatsword rose high above his head.

Everyone screamed at once.

“SUBARU!!”

“CAPTAIN!!”

“Barusu!!”

“Natsuki-san!!”

The moment stretched thin.

And only then, just before the blade fell, did the man speak for again. His voice was low, final.

“With you gone this world… would be free from suffering.”

The swing came down.

Subaru’s final thought, fleeting and raw, wasn’t about himself it was almost childlike in its simplicity.

"Beako. Don’t cry."

Chapter Text

The book smelled of dust and ink.

Rem’s fingers trembled as she flipped through the pages, hiding behind the barn where no one could see. The cover was old, fraying at the edges, but to her it was treasure, The Ballad of the Azure Knight.

On the page, a knight stood tall, lance gleaming. His armor was bright as stars, his words noble. He was strong where she was weak, sure where she faltered.

“A knight’s vow is unbending,” she whispered, stuttering over the words but savoring them. Her voice was small, but when she spoke like this, she could pretend. Pretend she wasn’t the lesser twin. Pretend she wasn’t the shadow of her sister. Pretend she was more than a mistake. 

Sometimes a village child would find her and giggle. “Sir Rem, defender of the barn!” he will say, and she would flush red but laugh. When Ram wasn’t watching, Rem could lift her stick like a lance and declare, “I-I w-will protect you, f-fear not!” And for a moment, it almost felt real.

The book became her secret world. She read it again and again, mouthing the knight’s speeches, practicing his poses when no one was near. She loved Ram with all her heart, but she needed this, too. A way to imagine she wasn’t weak. A way to imagine she mattered.

The fire came without warning. 

Smoke swallowed the sky. Screams tore the night. The Witch Cult descended, chanting, burning, laughing.

Rem’s lungs filled with ash as she ran, clutching her stick-lance. She found Ram bloodied, horn broken, barely breathing.

“Ram! P-please p-please get up!” she begged, stuttering, voice cracking. She shook her sister’s shoulders desperately.

Ram’s lips curved weakly. “...Live, Rem…”

Her chest stilled.

“N-no no no no Ram! R-Ram!” Rem’s voice broke into sobs. She pressed her forehead to her sister’s chest, waiting for breath that never came. “D-don’t leave me… p-please don’t leave me…”

A small hand tugged hers. She turned, eyes blurred with tears.

The village child. Soot-streaked, trembling, but smiling at her. “Y-you’ll save us… like a real knight…”

Then the fire roared higher, and the child was gone.

Rem screamed until no sound came. Her stick burned away in the flames. She ran.

When morning came, she lay in the ashes outside the village. The book was charred in her arms, half its pages gone, but still clutched like a lifeline.

Her throat was raw. Her hands shook. She whispered into the silence.

“R… Rem… failed… Rem is… w-weak… Rem Rem is d-dead.”

Her tears soaked the ruined pages. But when her lips moved again, another word slipped out.

“R… Remiel…”

The name of the knight. The one who never faltered.

She said it again. Louder. Shaking.

“R-Remiel… Remiel l-lives.”

Days blurred. Hunger gnawed. Her voice cracked when she tried to speak. She wandered roads without knowing why, clutching the book and muttering lines she half-remembered.

“Kn… knight must… nev-never bend…”

“A k-knight d-d-defends the weak…”

“I… I am R-Remiel…”

Her stutter made the words jagged, but she forced them out. Forced them until her tongue bled with the effort.

One night, laughter cut the silence. Bandits.

​“Well, look at this,” one sneered. “A brat. Pretty little thing. Could fetch a fine price. We could even put her to work, make her a slave."

“Sl-slave?” Her eyes widened.

They grabbed her arms, binding her. She thrashed, kicking, screaming through tears.

“U-unhand me! I-I am R-Remiel, Knight of Dev-d-devotion! I’ll p-p-protect”

They laughed. Her vows only made them jeer louder.

In the struggle, her hand brushed against a weapon they had dropped. Long, heavy, brutal. A spined lance.

Her eyes locked onto it.

The book’s words echoed in her head. The knight’s vow. The shining lance.

Her fingers closed around it. The weight nearly toppled her, but she raised it high. 

“B-back! In the n-name of kn-knighthood!”

She swung. The spikes tore flesh. The bandits cursed, stumbling back, more startled than hurt. But her eyes blazed not with memory of Ram, not of the child, but with the book’s words burning in her skull.

The bandits fled. She stood trembling, lance heavy in her hands. Her chest heaved. She whispered, stuttering, through tears:

“See? I-I am a knight…”

Roswaal found her days later.

A soot-stained girl with hollow eyes, clutching a spined lance too big for her.

“My, myyy… what a sight,” Roswaal hummed, voice lilting. “And whooo might you be, little one?”

She straightened, forcing her shaking legs to stand tall.

“I-I am… R-Remiel! K-knight of d-devotion!”

Roswaal’s painted lips curved. “A knight, hmm? With a maid’s hands, perhaps…” 

Her brow furrowed. “M-maid? I-I am a knight…”

“Why not both?” he purred. “A knightly maid. One who defends the home as bravely as the battlefield. Don’t you think that’s… fiiiitting?”

She froze. The words shimmered in her mind. Knightly maid. Noble. Purposeful. True.

“Yes!” she cried, gripping the lance. “I-I shall be… the kn-knightly maid!”

Roswaal chuckled, eyes gleaming. “Marvelous. Then it is settled.”

And just like that, the ashes faded.

The book in her arms, the vows on her lips they became her truth. The fire blurred. The screams dulled. Ram’s face grew hazy, the child’s words forgotten.

Rem had died in the fire.

Only Remiel remained.

Chapter Text

Remiel origin

Remiel was once Rem, a gentle, timid girl living in a quiet village with her sister Ram. Her life shattered when tragedy struck her village burned, her sister died, and those she tried to protect were lost. Consumed by grief and guilt, Rem crafted a heroic persona, “Remiel,” inspired by a book about a shining knight.

At first, “Remiel” was a mask, a coping mechanism to survive the horror and chaos. She repeated the persona, performing knightly deeds and asserting her strength in the world, believing that adopting this identity could protect her and honor her lost loved ones. Over time, the lines blurred the mask became her reality. Remiel forgot her original self and her past, including the tragedy that birthed her, and fully embodied the knightly ideal she once pretended to be.

Now, Remiel is fully confident, theatrical, unyielding, and heroic the living embodiment of the knight she once imagined.

Abilities and Strength

Inhuman Strength Capable of one-shotting dangerous mabeasts and overpowering creatures far larger than herself

Exceptional Combat Skill, Mastery of the spined lance, precise, clean, and efficient strikes

Durability and Stamina, Endures prolonged combat without fatigue, capable of fighting at full potential even with life threatening injuries

Agility and Reflexes, Near Cecilus level of speed, able to react instantly to threats

Tactical Intelligence, Understands battlefield positioning and enemy weaknesses, making her attacks extremely efficient

Personality and Traits

She acts with absolute certainty in her convictions, treating the world as a stage where she must perform deeds of heroism.

Highly theatrical and dramatic, often speaking in grand, formal, and chivalric tones, even in mundane situations.

Action-first, she resolves problems physically and decisively rather than debating or overthinking.

Strong sense of justice, fights evil and defends innocents without hesitation.

Protective, will go to extreme lengths to shield those she sees as weak or in danger.

Focused, once she commits to a task or battle, nothing distracts her.

Delusional worldview, perceives herself as a knight on a holy mission, but not naive, she knows her limits in fighting beings she cannot overpower.

Friendly and energetic toward allies, especially those who indulge her “heroic delusions.”

Will tolerate rational companions (like Subaru) but sometimes dismisses their cautions with a dramatic flourish.

Weapon

Spined Lance, Primary weapon, long and reinforced with serrated edges, capable of lethal strikes

Bit more info

Trauma is mostly gone from memory, her knightly persona is fully self-sustaining

No notable weaknesses

Short story

The moon hung high over the mansion gardens. Shadows stretched unnaturally, twisting around the edges.

Subaru rubbed his eyes, sitting on a bench. “I don’t even know why I agreed to follow you tonight… but okay.”

From the edge of the trees, a low, guttural growl echoed.

“Comrade!” Remiel’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. “The beasts of the night dare disturb this sacred ground! Stand ready, for knightly justice descends!”

Subaru sighed. “Right… here we go again.”

A massive mabeast surged from the shadows, black fur bristling, fangs dripping. Its roar made the leaves tremble.

Remiel sprang forward, leaping into the air with impossible agility. The spined lance in her hands glinted under the moonlight.

Subaru blinked. “Okay… I thought you were joking, but… that’s not normal.”

With a single swing, the spined lance pierced the mabeast’s chest. There was a thunderous crack, like shattering stone. The creature collapsed instantly, unmoving.

“Behold!” Remiel cried, pointing the lance to the sky. “Even the vilest of fiends cannot withstand the unbending power of Remiels, knightly maid of devotion!”

Subaru slowly clapped, dryly. “Yeah… that was… impressive.”

Another growl emerged deeper in the shadows. Subaru squinted. “There’s… another one?”

“Silence, doubting comrade!” Remiel shouted. She launched herself forward in a blur, spinning her lance in a wide arc. The second mabeast barely had time to react before it was impaled and flung aside, landing in a crumpled heap.

Subaru leaned against a tree, rubbing his face. “you know... sometimes I wonder, how you are so strong.

A third mabeast emerged, charging from the hedge. Remiel crouched low, spinning her lance. The moment it hit the ground, she vaulted high, landing on its back, driving her weapon straight through its skull. The beast didn’t even scream before collapsing.

Subaru muttered, voice quiet. “I… I guess you're not joking about the whole knight thing.”

Remiel raised her arms dramatically, chest heaving. “Fiends defeated! The garden is safe, for now! Comrade, we must remain vigilant!”

Subaru shook his head, staring at the carnage. “Yeah… I’ll just… sit here. Watch. Take notes.”

Remiel glanced at him, tilting her head. “Do not falter, comrade! Every witness strengthens the legend of knightly devotion!”

Subaru groaned, muttering to himself, “Yeah, legend. Right.”

Chapter Text

“Subaru,” Chara said sweetly, “hand me the knife.”

“Nope.” Subaru crossed his arms like a security guard at a concert. “You’ve got that look. The ‘I’m-about-to-do-something-ominously-stabby’ look.”

Chara tilted her head. “It’s for cooking.”

“You can’t even eat,” Subaru shot back. “Besides, you don’t chop vegetables, you intimidate them into submission.”

Chara folded her arms, unamused. “I’m responsible. I’ll even hold it the safe way.”

“That’s worse! The safe way for you is the ‘maximum efficiency for stabbing’ way.”

They stared each other down for several seconds before Chara sighed. “Fine… I’ll use the spoon.”

Subaru relaxed—right until he turned around and found her carving the spoon into a makeshift blade.

“CHARA!”

Subaru threw his hands up, pacing back and forth like he was about to deliver the speech of the century.

“Reinhard is literally-literally-the strongest guy alive! He’s unbeatable! No one can take him down, I don’t care how many resets, strategies, or cheat codes you’ve got! You, me, anyone? Forget it!”

Chara, sitting cross-legged on the floor with the same deadpan expression they always carried, slowly turned their head to look at him.

Subaru’s grin froze, his eyes wide, like he just realized the joke wasn’t a joke.

“…chara, why do you look like that all of a sudden—”

Chapter Text

Walking on the road. My sandals slapped soft against it, plastic bag swinging from my hand. A melon bread inside, still warm.

Kid ahead of me. Red backpack bouncing.

Then.

screech.

thud.

crack.

Body folded. Backpack flew.

And the ground… changed.

Red spilled out. Crawled wide. Crept into cracks of the road.

I dropped the bag. Bread rolled. Didn’t move.

"…warm. thick. spreading." (why red look… good?)

People screamed. Adults rushed forward. Hands shoved me back.

"Don’t look!"

"Somebody call an ambulance!"

I didn’t move. Eyes locked.

Kid not moving. Blood still moving.

(so bright. not paint. alive red. want to keep watching.)

A hand yanked me away hard. Mother’s.

"Subaru! Don’t look! Close your eyes!"

I nodded, mouth dry. "…kay."

But turned my head anyway. One last look.

Thin branches of red stretched across the street. Sunlight made it shine.

Heart thumped. Fast. Not fear. Not sickness. Something else.

Dinner quiet. Chopsticks clinked.

Dad tried. "Bad day, huh."

Mom added. "Don’t think about it."

I forced my lips to stretch. "…Im fine. Totally fine."

Under table my hands shook. Not scared. Excited.

Closed my eyes. Saw it again. The red creeping.

(why can’t forget? why want again? normal kids… don’t, right?)

Bed creaked when I rolled. Blanket heavy, hot.

Eyes open. Ceiling blank.

Mouth whispered. "…If I fall. Crack skull. Red flows."

"…if Dad slips. Knife cut. Kitchen stains."

"…if… if…"

Each thought ended with red.

I pressed pillow on face. Tried to laugh. Sound cracked.

"Ha… haha. My brain… broken." (but smiling. can’t stop.)

Next day. School.

Playground dust. Kids running, yelling.

One boy tripped. Gravel tore knee.

Blood welled. Small pool.

I crouched quick. "You okay? Knee leaking."

Boy sniffled. "It Hurts…"

I pulled tissue. Dabbed.

(look at color. weak. but still… nice.)

Smile stuck on my face. "See? Just scratch. Stop crying, yeah?"

Teacher rushed. "Oh my, Subaru, thank you for helping. You’re such a kind girl."

Kind. Right. They didn’t see my eyes lingering.

Lunch break.

Stabbed sausage with chopstick. Ketchup squeezed out.

Dripped onto tray.

Breath caught. Stared.

Friend noticed. "Why are you staring at the ketchup? Are you hungry?"

I scratched my head, forced a laugh. "Haha! Just… daydream. Anime fight! Boom! Blood everywhere!"

They laughed. Believed.

(why lie? …can’t say truth. they’ll call me freak.)

Days stacked.

Every scrape, every nosebleed, every papercut, eyes stuck.

"Eh? Tiny red fountain, haha."

"Don’t cry. Pain short. Goes fast."

But inside.

(want bigger. want more. can’t ask. must hide.)

Parents whispered at night. Thought I slept.

"She hasn’t cried once since the accident."

"She’s bottling it up, poor thing."

"Should we get her help?"

I sat in room, listening.

(not bottling. not broken. just… want more red. if I say it, they’ll hate me.)

Weeks later. Bike race. Hot sun.

Girl slipped. Bike crashed. Elbow split open.

Blood rolled to wrist. She screamed.

Kids panicked. Teacher far.

I rushed first. Tissue out.

"Hold still. Won’t die. Just scratch, yeah?"

She whimpered. "It hurts so much!"

"Pain sharp. Short. Bite lip. Strong girl."

I pressed cloth. Pretended serious.

Eyes glued. (so red. so much more than knee. want to touch. want to smear. can’t.)

Teacher came running. Took over.

I stepped back, smiling too wide.

Inside, fingers itched.

That night, pillow muffled my voice.

"…paint? maybe. paper. brush. if red same, maybe… enough."

But truth buzzed under skin.

(paint won’t match. paint cold. want warm red. real red.)

Classroom buzzed. Chalk squeaked. Teacher clapped hands.

"Alright, today’s special. Art period. Paper, brushes, paint. Draw whatever you like."

Kids cheered. Brushes rattled. Cups filled with water.

I sat still. Brush in hand. Paper blank. Too white.

"Heh. brush… weapon? Or snack stick? Who knows."

Friend snorted. "You’re so weird subaru."

I dipped into red first. Always red. Streaked it across.

Line too thin. Too flat.

"…dead. lifeless." (not like the street. no warmth. no smell.)

Friend leaned closer. "What’d you say?"

"Eh? I said line ugly! Ugly ugly! Haha."

Teacher walked past. Smiled. "That’s a strong color choice, Subaru. It's Passionate."

Passionate. Wrong word. Not passion. Memory.

Truck. Road. Spill.

This red? Fake.

I dragged more strokes anyway. Tried to recall how it looked. Failed.

After class, kids compared drawings.

"Mine’s a castle!"

"Look, a robot!"

They turned to mine. Red slashes. Black blobs.

"What’s that supposed to be?"

I blinked. "modern art. High class."

Laughter. Teacher chuckled too.

But I stared. Paper stared back. Dead red. Silent.

Night. Lamp hum. Papers spread on desk.

"…wrong shade. wrong feel. wrong sound."  (blood drips heavy. paint… nothing. empty.)

I pressed brush harder. Water swirled pink.

"…not same."

But I painted more. After homework. After dinner. Always red first. Always chasing.

Teacher praised me.

"You’re very dedicated, Subaru. Always practicing."

I tilted head. "Heh. Im just killing time."

But inside (not killing time. hunting. searching shade. never find it.)

Recess.

Two boys fought. One punch landed. Nose bled.

Blood dripped fast. Onto dirt. Onto shirt.

Kids gasped. Teacher rushed.

I froze. Eyes stuck.

"…better. real. warm."

Friend tugged sleeve. "Subaru, don’t stare, it’s gross."

I forced laugh. "Eh? Im shocked! Nose fountain, big surprise!"

They bought it. Looked away.

I didn’t. Couldn’t.

That night, I painted nosebleed. Tried to copy drip on dirt. Paper mocked me.

"…flat. dead."

Kitchen.

Mother chopped carrots. Knife thud-thud.

Eyes stuck to blade.

"…if slips. finger cut. red flow."

"Heh. Mom pro chef. No chop fingers, yeah?"

Mother laughed. “That’s right. Careful hands.”

She didn’t notice my stare.

Days blurred.

Art piled up. Red papers stacked.

Parents proud. "Our daughter’s an artist."

"So creative."

They smiled. Didn’t know truth.

(not art. just chasing red. never catching.)

One night.

House quiet. Parents asleep.

I crept to kitchen. Lights off.

Knife left on counter. Shiny.

Hand shook picking it up. Cold.

"…test."

Pressed tip to thumb. Light. Nothing.

Harder. Sting.

Bead welled up. Round. Shiny.

I gasped. Breath caught.

"…alive. warm. real."

It rolled. Dropped onto counter. Small bloom.

Smile almost broke out.

"…better. so much better."

Pressed again. Another bead. Another drop.

"…pattern." (not flat. not dead. living red.)

Then footsteps upstairs.

I froze.

Wrapped towel quick. Wiped counter fast.

Heart pounded.

“Heh. clumsy. Just clumsy.”

Silence returned.

I stood in dark, knife in hand, pulse racing.

"…paint dead. blood real."

Truth.

Next day. Thumb sore. Bandaged.

Friend asked. "What happened?"

"Eh? Accident. Cut thumb cooking instant noodles. Fail."

Friend laughed. Believed.

I laughed too. Inside thumb throbbed reminder.

"…better than paint."

And from then, art split.

Paper and paint for show. For everyone.

Knife and red… for me.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Subaru The Crimson Artist

Origin

Subaru was only eight when she saw it her classmate struck down by a truck. The grotesque mess of red, the broken body where others screamed, Subaru stared. Something inside her shifted. The horror planted a seed of fascination that she knew was “wrong,” so she hid it.

To mask this desire, she turned to paint, splashes of red on canvas as a substitute for the crimson she longed to see in life. But paint never truly satisfied her. When she was transported to Lugnica, she realized this new world had no cameras, no sirens, no rules to chain her. The world became her canvas.

Here, her fascination became art. Here, the mask slipped and never needed to return.

Personality

Views gore and flesh as a form of art, every kill is a brushstroke.

Detached from morality finds beauty in ruin, especially in those she considers “too perfect.”

Keeps a sardonic wit, mockery is as natural to her as breathing.

Calm, almost lazy tone when disinterested; sharp, gleeful precision when fascinated.

She doesn’t hide her nature anymore only chooses when to reveal it.

Speech Style

Minimalist, blunt. Often speaks in “artistic” metaphors.

Will abbreviate or cut down long thoughts into cold observations.

Weapon/fighting style

Katana her brush, her scalpel, her instrument.

Clean, deliberate strikes she dislikes waste.

Kills are often experimental different cuts, different flows, like testing pigments.

Authority of Crimson art

Every cut bleeds endlessly until she wills it to stop.

Can manipulate flesh she’s cut, shaping it like clay.

Can “paint” battlefields with precision walls of blood, controlled rivers of crimson.

traits

Obsessive Artist Sees each battle as a canvas. Her satisfaction comes from creating “pieces” rather than simply winning.

Fixation on the Perfect People who act flawless (like Julius,reinhard) fascinate her. She wants to crack their mask, to stain them red, to see what lies beneath.

Weakness

Detached from normal empathy her obsession blinds her to consequences.

Fixation can become tunnel vision if she decides someone must be “painted,” she’ll pursue it no matter the cost.

Authority drains stamina if she maintains large-scale “Crimson art” for too long.

Ryoshubaru is not a hero. She is an artist of red, born from childhood fascination and given canvas in Lugnica. Her katana is her brush, flesh and blood her medium, and “perfection” her favorite subject to destroy.

Where the original Subaru sought hope, this one seeks only the ecstasy in creating her art in red.

Short story

Stone floor. Too clean. Every step echoed sharp against the walls.

I trailed after Emilia. Silver hair, bright. She moved carefully, too careful, shoulders tight. Puck floated at her side, tail flicking, eyes narrow.

The Sage Council’s hall waited ahead. Knights lined both sides. Armor bright. Shields polished. Too bright.

I didn’t look at them long. My eyes searched. Stopped.

White.

Julius Juukulius.

His hair, neat. His uniform, precise. Every fold smooth. He walked like every step had been measured before his foot touched stone. Sword at his hip, not heavy, not clumsy. Natural.

Perfect.

That perfection burned. Not envy. Not respect. A pull.

Need.

I watched longer than I should. His eyes brushed past me once, quick, like I wasn’t worth more than a glance.

That dismissing glance made the need worse.

White canvas. Needed red.

“Subaru?” Emilia’s voice pulled me.

“Mm. Fine.” I shook my head. “Just stiff air.”

She frowned, but turned forward again.

The hall opened. Nobles and sages on their seats. Other candidates gathered Crusch with her calm poise, Felix waving his tail behind her. Anastasia with her scarf, smile too sweet to be real. Priscilla lounging, fan covering her lips. Felt glaring like she owned the place already.

Eyes turned as Emilia stepped up. Half of them already hostile.

She spoke. Clear, calm, about rights, about equality. Her words sounded steady, but the air twisted.

Knights whispered. Sages frowned.

“Half-elf.”

“witch.”

“Naive child.”

I watched Emilia’s back stiffen. Her hands clenched.

I looked at the knights. Their smirks. Their whispers. Their puffed chests.

All bark.

I let my lips curl.

“B-M-K-A-B,” I said.

Heads turned. A few knights blinked.

“What did you just say?” one snapped.

“B-M-K-A-B.” I tilted my head. “It means bad mouthed knights all bark.”

Their faces twisted. Murmurs turned to shouts.

“You dare insult the honor of knights?”

“Impudent brat”

I stayed still.

Then the sound I waited for.

“Enough.”

His voice. Calm, cutting through the noise.

Julius stepped forward. Hand lifted, precise.

The knights froze.

His eyes turned on me now, steady. Not glancing past. Looking. Measuring.

“You speak out of turn,” Julius said. His tone was calm, smooth. But his eyes… sharper. “Knights stand for honor. To mock them is to mock Lugnica itself.”

I breathed in slowly. My chest quickened, not from fear.

“Yes?” I stepped closer. “Then show. Honor. Or just white paint.”

Gasps. The hall stirred.

“You insolent,” one knight started.

Julius didn’t raise his voice. “If you question my oath, then I will answer it properly. With a duel.”

Silence. Then noise crashed in again.

“Show her why knights should be respected Sir julius”

“Teach her a lesson sir julius”

“Sir Julius, you mustn’t waste time on.”

But he ignored them. His gaze stayed locked on me.

A grin tugged at my lips.

“Good. Duel.” My hand touched my katana’s hilt. “White, red.”

Emilia hissed beside me. “Subaru, stop you shouldn’t”

Her words went unheard. The room was already gone to me. Only him mattered.

Julius inclined his head. “Not here. The arena.”

Yes. Perfect.

The walk to the arena cut through thick whispers.

Crusch strode silent, unreadable. Felix walked close, ears twitching, tail flicking. His eyes darted between Julius and me, with great interest.

Priscilla fanned herself, lips curled. “How amusing. Such insolence entertains me.”

Her eyes slid to me, fan lowering. “Do not disappoint me. I dislike dull spectacles.”

Anastasia whispered behind her scarf, voice light but sharp. “Bold move. But I wonder if it’s cleverness or foolishness. Ricardo, keep a close eye.”

Ricardo nodded once, heavy steps behind her.

Felt stomped forward, glaring. “Weird sis! Go for it, beat that fancy knight's ass!”

I only tilted my head.

Reinhard walked, quiet. His calm made the air heavier. His eyes, though fixed on me. Watching.

Al scratched the back of his helmet, voice easy. “Man… you don’t waste time makin’ enemies. Respect for guts, though. Just don’t end up like a punching bag, yeah?”

I didn’t answer. Just brushed my fingers along the katana’s hilt.

Cold steel. Warm pulse under my skin.

Arena walls rose ahead. Stone circle. Wide space.

A cage for the white knight.

A canvas.

Soon.

The arena walls rose high, stone pressing the sound of whispers back down on us. Knights filled the stands, nobles settled like crows waiting for scraps. The candidates sat apart with their camps, eyes sharp, fans lifted, tails twitching.

The circle in the center was clear. Sand, pale yellow. Empty canvas.

Julius stood across from me. Straight, steady hands. He touched the hilt of his rapier as though greeting it. His eyes never drifted. Calm, cold, precise.

Perfect.

White.

I rolled my shoulders, hand brushing my katana’s hilt. Not stiff, not formal. Just loose. Easy.

His gaze slid over me once. Not dismissive now. Focused.

Good.

The Council’s voice rang. “This is a duel of honor. No interference. The first to surrender, loses.”

Nods. Murmurs.

I bent forward slightly, my lips tugging. “B-F-S-W-B.”

Julius’s eyes narrowed faintly. “What?”

“Blank face, stiff words, boring.”

Gasps from knights in the stands. Armor rattled.

Julius didn’t flinch. He raised his rapier, point angled with perfect measure. “Then you shall have a demonstration instead of words.”

I drew my blade. Steel hissed.

We moved.

He closed distance fast, steps clean, blade thrust like lightning.

I tilted my head. Sidestep. His rapier scraped past my shoulder, air cutting sharp. My katana came down low, angled.

He twisted, deflected. Elegant. Too elegant.

White lines, sharp lines.

We circled.

Another thrust. Another slash. He was faster than most would follow. Not me. My eyes caught the rhythm. Each step measured. Each movement rehearsed.

(Perfect lines break when pushed.)

I feinted left. Stepped right. Blade kissed his sleeve.

A shallow cut.

Red.

It welled too fast. Flowed down his arm, staining white cloth.

Murmurs shot through the crowd.

“Already?”

“That speed”

“No, it shouldn’t”

Julius glanced at the wound, then at me. His brows knit, just a little.

He pressed forward harder.

Steel flashed. Sparks. Our blades scraped again and again. My wrist turned, my grip loose but firm, testing strokes. His rapier darted for my chest I twisted, letting it graze cloth, no skin. My blade cut his thigh.

Blood again. More. Too much.

Felix’s voice rose sharp from the stands. “That’s… not normal. The bleeding is too strong!”

Crusch’s voice steady, low. “It is unusual. But Sir Julius will endure.”

Priscilla laughed behind her fan. “ahh it turns out the dog does know how to bite.”

Felt leaned forward, hands gripping the railing. “Weird sis! I still can't get over how every wound you do bleeds so much like that!”

Anastasia’s tone light, but her eyes sharp. “Strange, ain’t it? Little cuts shouldn’t spill like rivers. Either her blade’s got tricks… or she does.”

Julius ignored them all. His rapier swept fast, pressing me back. His expression stayed calm, but I saw the tightness in his jaw, the way his feet pressed heavier now.

He lunged. I caught it with the side of my katana. My knees bent, sand kicking. His rapier scraped across my guard, sparks spitting.

I twisted, forcing his blade wide, and drew mine upward. A slash across his chest.

Cloth split. Red burst out.

Gasps filled the arena.

Knights rose from their seats.

“Sir Julius!”

“That can’t be”

Felix stood, tail stiff, ears flat. His voice was tight. “Juli, back off, nya hear? You’re bleeding too much nya”

Julius didn’t step back. He set his stance again, rapier steady, blood soaking into his uniform. His eyes still locked on me.

I licked my lips.

“W-T-R-M.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Speak plainly.”

“White turned red. Masterpiece.”

He came again. Faster. His rapier blurred, thrust after thrust, forcing me to move, dodge, deflect. Sparks shot like stars. Each strike closer, sharper.

One grazed my arm burn sting, but shallow. Nothing.

I let him press me, let him think momentum carried him. Then my blade snapped up, slicing across his side.

Red sprayed.

The crowd roared.

Reinhard’s voice, calm but firm, finally spoke. “Strange. The cuts bleed more than they should.”

Al leaned against the railing, helmet tilting. “Sis. Really makin’ the pretty boy. Bleed like a fountain, Damn, that’s rough.”

Emilia’s voice wavered, quiet but not lost. “Subaru… please…”

I ignored her. My eyes never left Julius.

His perfect lines. His perfect white. Now ruined.

Each stain was better than the last.

He staggered slightly now, wounds soaking through. Still, his rapier lifted clean, unbroken form. His pride held him upright.

“You fight… without restraint,” Julius said, breathing heavier.

I tilted my head. “D-C-F-H.”

His brows furrowed. “…What?”

“Don’t care. For honor.”

The knights growled, fists tight. One shouted from the stands. “How dare you mock”

I slashed again, fast. His rapier caught mine, but not cleanly. Edge met shoulder. Red spurted.

Felix finally stepped to the railing, voice sharp but not pleading. “nyoi Juli-kyun, quit acting nyike a nyoble idiot! You’ll bleed out if nyou keep pushing nyike this nya!”

Julius glanced his way once, brief. Then looked back at me. His lips firmed.

“Honor is not an act,” he said.

I grinned. “Honor’s… just white paint.”

He lunged.

I sidestepped. My blade kissed his cheek. A thin red line across perfect skin.

Blood ran down his face.

Perfect.

The arena erupted shock, anger, awe.

Priscilla laughed, voice sharp. “Oh, how delicious! The knight most praised for his perfection, now ruined! Truly, good entertainment.”

Anastasia’s fan covered her mouth, but her eyes glinted. “A bit dangerous, though. Bleedin’ that much… pride’s got limits.”

Crusch’s gaze stayed steady. “I don't think sir Julius will yield. He will stand until he cannot. That is his way.”

Felt shouted again. “Weird sis, stop makin’ him drip like a fountain!”

Al chuckled low. “Sis is crazy sharp. But I think she ain’t playing this just to win.”

Reinhard’s silence weighed the most. His hand brushed the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t draw. Watching. Judging.

I breathed deep, blade steady, blood scent sharp in the air.

Julius bled, but he didn’t break. His rapier lifted again, form perfect, even through the red.

Enough.

I could go on. I wanted to. But his pride… it wouldn’t let him stop. He’d fight till collapse.

So I tilted my head, raised my free hand, and let the blade drop.

“I yield.”

Silence. Then uproar.

“What”

“She gives up?”

“After, after that”

Julius froze, breath heavy, wounds staining him through. His eyes narrowed, confusion flickering.

“You…” He lowered his rapier slowly. “…Are you pitying me?”

I smiled. Thin, sharp. “S-S-D.”

He frowned. “…Meaning?”

“Shame, spared, dignity.”

Felix was down the steps fast, already glowing with healing magic. “You stubborn knyaight, what did I tell nya?!” His hands pressed against Julius’s wounds, ears twitching.

Julius exhaled, finally letting weight sag. “It was… necessary.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Felix muttered.

Crusch stood, nodding once. “Well fought.”

Priscilla clapped her fan shut with a snap. “Marvelous, I am… deeply entertained by this battle.”

Anastasia tilted her head. “Dangerous girl. But sharp. Not just swingin’ she planned every move.”

Felt glared down at me. “Weird sis… you’re scary.”

Al snorted. “Scary’s one word for it.”

Reinhard’s voice finally reached. Calm. Heavy. “A dangerous style. But… striking.”

I sheathed my blade. My hand still tingled from each cut. My chest still tight with thrill.

Julius sat with Felix patching him, red streaks still staining white.

I turned once more, eyes drinking in the image.

White. Now red.

Contrast made.

Masterpiece.

Subaru after seeing blood:

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The first memory Subaru ever decided was worth keeping was the sound of her mother’s laugh.

It wasn’t loud, not the kind that burst out and shook walls, but soft like a secret meant only for her and her father. In a world where most people didn’t even look at you unless they wanted something, that laugh was proof that someone could love without asking for payment.

“Stop squirming, you’ll spill it,” her mother scolded, but her voice was warm.

“I won’t! Subaru’s strong!” the eight-year-old girl declared, wobbling dangerously as she carried the bowl of steaming fish stew to the table. The wooden floor creaked beneath her small feet, and the salty wind from the coast rattled the shutters. “See? Not even a drop!”

Her father leaned over with a grin, his dark hair messy from the day’s work. “Oh? Then what’s that little trail I see on the floor, hm?”

Subaru froze, staring down in horror. A single drop of broth glistened on the wood.

“Nooo! Subaru swore it wouldn’t happen!” she cried, putting the bowl down with a clatter.

Her father burst into laughter, swooping her up in his arms before she could pout further. “A warrior who notices her own mistakes that’s better than any clumsy hero who pretends otherwise. Good job, champ.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Papa’s just teasing…”

“Of course I am. It’s my duty as your father.”

Her mother slid the stew onto the table and gave them both a fond, exasperated look. “And it’s my duty to make sure you don’t roughhouse so much that the house falls apart. Sit down, both of you.”

They did, Subaru squeezed tight between them on the bench. The stew was simple, fish and potatoes stretched thin, but to Subaru it tasted like a feast. Every spoonful was filled with warmth, and every bite carried the rhythm of her parents’ voices, their chatter weaving around her like a net holding her safe.

Outside, the world was sharp and cold. She had seen it already in the marketplace, people who turned away when beggars reached out, merchants who snarled if you lingered too long near their stalls. She had overheard grown-ups whispering that kindness was for fools, that caring got you killed.

But here, in this little home that smelled of smoke, salt and love, Subaru knew something better.

Later that evening, as the fireplace flickered low, she leaned against her father’s chest while he polished a long metal spear a harpoon, its tip gleaming in the firelight.

“Papa,” she asked sleepily, “why do people outside always look so angry?”

Her father paused, the steady rasp of cloth against steel falling silent. He glanced at her mother, who was sewing a torn sleeve in front of the fireplace..

Her mother set down the cloth, thinking carefully. “Because… Most of them forgot how to listen. They chase after coins and forget how it feels to hold someone’s hand. When you forget that, the world feels empty. And emptiness makes people angry.”

“Then… then why aren’t you angry too?” Subaru tilted her head.

Her father chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Because I already have everything worth protecting right here.”

Her chest warmed. She didn’t fully understand, but she liked the way he said it.

“Subaru too,” she murmured, fighting sleep. “Papa, Mama… you’re the best thing.”

Her mother kissed her forehead. “and you’re also the best Subaru.”

That night, as the wind rattled the shutters and the sea sang in the distance, Subaru dreamed of a world where laughter sounded like her mother’s and strength felt like her father’s arms. A world where warmth could outshine the cold.

And even though she was only eight, she thought to herself As long as I have them, I’ll never need anything else.

By the time Subaru turned ten, she realized her parents weren’t just different from other people, they were rare.

Kindness, she had learned, wasn’t just something people forgot. It was something most people despised. It made you soft, made you vulnerable. She’d overheard it whispered more than once in the markets “That couple’s too generous for their own good. They’ll die one day, giving away their last meal.”

But her parents never listened.

And slowly, people began to notice.

The first to join them was a scarred fisherman named Bran. Subaru remembered the day he arrived because her father(kenichi) dragged him into their home half-drowned.

She stood by the fireplace, wringing her hands as her mother(naoko) pressed cloth to the man’s bleeding side.

“Will he live?” Subaru asked.

Naoko smiled gently. “If kindness is enough, then yes.”

And he did. Bran woke days later, confused why strangers had saved him at all. Subaru remembered his voice, rough and cracking “Why? Why bother with a man everyone else left to die?”

Kenichi only laughed. “Because we could.”

Bran stayed. Not because he believed in kindness at first, but because he couldn’t understand it and because he wanted to repay the debt.

The second was a woman named Maree. Subaru had met her in the port, shivering with a baby on her hip, coins stolen from her purse. Subaru had tugged on Naoko’s sleeve and whispered, “She’s crying, Mama.”

Naoko went to her without hesitation. By the end of that night, Maree had food in her stomach and safety in their home.

Later, when Maree’s baby died of sickness, she refused to leave. “Your family gave me back my strength when I had nothing. Let me give you mine. Whatever you need.”

And it went on like that.

One by one, the people her parents had saved appeared again, broken men and women, wanderers, people who had tasted the cruelty of the world. They didn’t just want to say thank you. They wanted to stay and pay their kindness.

At first, Subaru had been wary. She had never shared her parents before. But soon, she began to think of them as uncles and aunts, sometimes siblings.

Bran taught her to tie knots. Maree braided her hair and hummed lullabies when her parents were busy. A wiry man named Callus showed her how to balance on the mast, and laughed when she fell into the netting.

For the first time, their little home was filled with more than three voices. At night, the fireplace glowed bright and loud with laughter, stories, and warmth.

And then Kenichi said something that would change everything.

It was a clear afternoon. Subaru sat on a crate at the docks, legs swinging, as kenichi leaned over the hull of a battered old ship. Bran stood nearby, shaking his head.

“She won’t last another year if you keep patching her like this,” Bran warned.

Kenichi grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. “That’s why we’re not patching her anymore. We’re making her ours.”

Her eyes widened. “Ours? You mean?”

He lifted her off the crate and pointed to the vessel. “That’s right, champ. This old thing’s going to be our family’s ship. Fully our’s now. A home, a way to give back to the sea that’s fed us.”

Maree crossed her arms, skeptical. “A ship’s no toy. You’ll need hands. Supplies. Loyalty.”

Naoko stepped forward then, her gaze steady. “That’s why we’re asking all of you. You’ve already given us your trust. Let us give you a place to belong. Not just strangers under one roof, a family at the sea.”

There was a long silence. Subaru held her breath.

Then Bran laughed, a deep booming sound. “You saved my life. If you want me to throw it back at the sea with you, I’ll do it gladly.”

One by one, the others agreed.

And just like that, the crew was born.

Subaru could hardly contain her excitement. She ran up and down the deck as they began repairs, trying to help even when she was more in the way than useful.

“Be careful with that rope!” Callus shouted, but he was laughing as he untangled the mess she’d made.

“You’ll be our good luck charm,” Maree teased, tucking a strand of hair behind Subaru’s ear. “Every ship needs one.”

Kenichi hoisted her up on his shoulders as the sun set over the horizon. “Look, champ. This is the beginning of something bigger. A family no storm can break.”

Her heart swelled. She believed him.

For Subaru, the world had never seemed so full of light.

By the time Subaru was twelve, she had learned every creak and groan of their ship, every face in their crew-family, every rhythm of life at sea.

Maree fussed over her the most. Not in the sharp way Naoko did when Subaru forgot her chores, but in a soft, doting way brushing her hair, adjusting her collar, calling her pearl or sweetheart like she was something rare.

“Sit still, sweetheart,” Maree said one morning, combing Subaru's hair with skillful fingers. "You'll thank me later when the bird doesn’t turn your hair into a nest,” Maree said, tugging Subaru’s hair into place.

Subaru made a face. “It’s going to get messy anyway.”

“Doesn’t matter. My pearl deserves to shine,” Maree said, tying a ribbon neatly.

Subaru rolled her eyes, but deep down it warmed her.

Naoko’s voice often carried across the deck when Subaru tried to skip a task. “Subaru. Ropes. Now.”

“Yes, Mama…” Subaru would mutter, but she always obeyed, because Naoko’s mix of sternness and kindness left no room for argument. Later, though, naoko would soften, pulling Subaru close as they cooked together or stitched torn sails.

“You’re capable of more than you think,” Naoko said once, her hands guiding Subaru’s smaller ones as she threaded a needle. “That’s why I push you. Not to burden you but because I believe in you.”

Subaru pretended to grumble, but she carried those words like treasure.

Kenichi, meanwhile, was the opposite.

“Subaru!” Kenichi called one afternoon, wobbling along the deck with a mop perched across his shoulders like a pirate’s sword. “I hereby challenge you to mortal combat! Loser swabs the deck!”

She laughed so hard she nearly dropped her bucket. “That’s not even fair, Papa!”

Kenichi lunged dramatically, only to slip and land flat on his back. The whole crew roared with laughter. But when a storm hit later that night, that same goofy man barked orders sharp and sure, hands steady on the wheel.

That was her father a fool when he could be, captain when he must.

Together, her family was balanced. Naoko’s steadiness, Kenichi’s joy, Maree’s warmth all surrounding Subaru like a shield. She never doubted their love.

The day she met the new recruit, Subaru felt something shift.

He came aboard at port, hired on after h

Kenichi said they needed one more set of hands for their next expedition.

“This is Dalen,” kenichi introduced, clapping the young man’s back. “He’s sailed before, and he’s willing to join us.”

Dalen smiled politely, but his eyes were too sharp, too quick. Subaru felt them measuring everything the ship, the crew, even her.

Naoko’s lips pressed thin. Bran muttered something under his breath. Callus gave only a grunt.

Subaru tried to smile back, but her stomach twisted.

Maree leaned down, whispering in her ear, “Stay close to me, pearl. Some smiles hide too much.”

Still, life went on.

The crew prepared for the expedition with excitement. Kenichi spreads the map across the table.

“Old stories say there’s something waiting here,” he said, tracing a path with his finger. “If we find it, it’ll secure us for years.”

Naoko stood behind him, arms crossed but a smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t fill her head with stories unless you’re ready to carry her when she follows you into trouble.”

Kenichi winked. “Isn’t that what fathers are for?”

Subaru leaned closer to the map. “So… Do you think it’s real?”

“Only one way to know,” kenichi said, tousling her hair.

Maree slipped Subaru a sweet bun she’d hidden away. Callus taught her how to balance during rough storms. Bran showed her a new knot.

And Dalen? He only watched. Always polite. Always quiet. But Subaru couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong.

One evening, Subaru stood on deck, watching the horizon glow with sunset. Maree wrapped an arm around her.

“You’re growing so fast,” Maree whispered. “Sometimes I almost forget you’re not mine.”

Subaru tilted her head against her. “You kind of are my second mama. Is that weird?”

Maree’s breath caught, but she smiled. “Not weird at all, pearl. Not at all.”

Naoko stepped onto the deck then, hands on her hips. “Don’t go stealing my daughter, Maree.”

Maree smirked. “Borrowing. Only borrowing.”

Kenichi appeared behind them, pretending to stagger with the weight of a barrel. “What’s this? My little girl has two mothers now? I’ll have to work twice as hard to keep up!”

Subaru laughed, caught between them all. Safe. Loved.

She didn’t yet know how fragile that warmth was.

The sea was calm that morning, the kind of calm that felt like a gift. Subaru stood barefoot on the deck, toes curling against the worn planks as the ship rocked gently. She breathed in salt air and sun, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world was wide open.

“Subaru! Don’t stand around daydreaming,” Naoko called, hands on her hips. “If you’ve got time to stare at the horizon, you’ve got time to scrub the deck.”

“Yes, Mama…” Subaru dragged out the words but grabbed the brush anyway, kneeling down.

Maree appeared moments later, carrying a bucket. “Here, pearl. Let’s work together. Less grumbling, more shining.” She winked, and Subaru couldn’t help but grin.

The two scrubbed side by side, Maree humming a tune under her breath. Subaru splashed water at her, earning a mock gasp.

“You little rascal! You’ll regret this.” Maree flicked water back at her, and soon they were both laughing, dripping wet.

Naoko pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re teaching her bad habits, Maree.”

“Bad habits? No, no,” Maree said, pretending to look scandalized. “I’m teaching her the fine art of joy.”

Kenichi popped up from behind a stack of barrels, mop balanced like a spear. “Joy? Did someone say joy? Fear not! Captain Kenichi will bring laughter and light to this humble deck!”

Subaru nearly fell over laughing as her father struck a dramatic pose, mop raised to the sky.

“Kenichi,” Naoko warned, but even she was fighting a smile.

Later, Bran the cook rang the bell for lunch. Subaru hurried below deck, the smell of stew pulling her like a magnet.

“Don’t burn your tongue,” Bran muttered as he ladled soup into her bowl. He was gruff, scarred, and sharp-eyed, but Subaru had learned his roughness was just a cover.

She plopped down at the table beside Callus, who was already chewing on a hunk of bread.

“Eat up,” Callus said, his deep voice rumbling. “Storms come when you least expect them. Better full than hungry.”

“Always so worried,” Subaru teased, dunking her bread in the stew.

“And always right,” Callus shot back with a grin.

Across the table, Maree fussed over Subaru’s hair again. “You’re dripping some food to your hair, pearl. Hold still.”

“Maree, let the girl eat,” Bran grumbled.

“She’ll thank me when she’s not a mess,” Maree replied, cleaning Subaru’s damp hair skillfully.

Naoko sat beside them, quiet but watchful, occasionally reaching to steady the bowls whenever the ship swayed. Kenichi, meanwhile, told some wild story about chasing a seagull who stole his sandwich years ago, making everyone groan and laugh.

Even Dalen, the newest recruit, chuckled politely at the tale, though Subaru noticed he barely touched his food.

Afternoons were for work. Subaru hauled ropes with Callus, her arms burning but her pride swelling every time she managed to match his pace. Bran barked orders in the galley. Maree patched a sail with Naoko, the two women trading quiet conversation.

Kenichi moved from task to task, checking knots, laughing with the men, and humming old sailor songs.

For Subaru, it was exhausting. But it was good exhaustion, the kind that left her chest warm when she flopped on her hammock at night, knowing she was part of something bigger than herself.

As the sun dipped low, the crew gathered on deck. Bran handed out small cups of liquor for the adults, sweet juice for Subaru.

Kenichi strummed a battered guitar, singing a cheerful tune about sailors and storms. Maree clapped along. Even Naoko allowed herself to relax, her hand brushing Subaru’s shoulder as they leaned together.

For a little while, the ship was alive with laughter, music, and light.

Subaru sat cross-legged, sipping her juice, watching the people around her. Her father’s grin, her mother’s quiet strength, Maree’s doting warmth, Bran’s hidden gentleness, Callus’s booming laugh…

This was her world. Her family.

She thought it would last forever.

The storm had broken the night before, leaving the air heavy and sharp with salt. The ocean was strangely still now, the sky cloudless. Subaru leaned against the rail, arms sore from work, eyes scanning the horizon.

“Ropes,” Naoko’s voice cut through the calm. “Tighter. The sea’s too calm to my liking.”

Subaru groaned but obeyed, tugging at the heavy lines. Her palms burned, but her grip was hard.

Callus noticed and barked a laugh. “Girl’s stronger than me already!”

Bran snorted. “Stronger, maybe. Smarter? Questionable.”

Subaru grinned. “I heard that.” She tugged again, and the rope creaked against the wood. The knot tightened more than most grown men could manage and she puffed her chest out.

“Not bad,” Callus admitted. “Still wouldn’t beat your old man.”

“Not yet,” Subaru shot back.

Kenichi, passing by with a coil of rope slung over his shoulder, ruffled her hair. “You’ll have to eat a mountain before you match me.” His grin was wide, but his eyes glimmered with pride.

Naoko only shook her head. “Strength without sense is wasted.”

Subaru stuck out her tongue, earning a swat on the arm.

By midday, something strange shimmered in the water.

“Kenichi,” Naoko murmured, pointing.

Kenichi leaned forward, squinting. At first Subaru thought it was sunlight playing tricks. But no beneath the clear surface, something glowed. Golden.

“Drop the anchor,” Kenichi ordered, voice sharp.

The crew scrambled. Chains rattled. Maree’s hand tightened around Subaru’s shoulder as they all peered over the side.

There, tangled in a nest of coral and bone, something pulsed faintly. A branch. No not wood. Not natural. It glowed like firelight, like treasure, like something alive.

“A Golden Bough…” Bran whispered. His scarred face, usually so closed, was filled with wonder.

Subaru’s breath caught. It was beautiful. Wrong, maybe, but beautiful.

“Careful,” Naoko warned, her voice like a blade. “Things that shine in the deep aren’t given freely.”

They lowered a net, maneuvering it carefully until the branch was hauled aboard. The moment it touched the deck, a hush fell.

The air felt heavier. The waves lapped slower. Subaru swore she heard… whispers.

Kenichi rested his hand on it. “With this… we’ll never starve again.”

Maree shivered. “I don’t like it, it might bring us some trouble”

“Neither do I,” Naoko said firmly. “But leaving it here will only let someone else take it. At least with us, it’s safe.”

The crew nodded. All except Dalen. He stood a little apart, eyes fixed on the glowing branch, lips pressed tight.

Subaru frowned.

That night, the mood was tense. Bran locked the Bough in a crate below deck. Naoko insisted on setting extra watches. Maree hummed lullabies to Subaru as they lay in hammocks, but her voice trembled.

Subaru woke before dawn to the sound of footsteps.

She slipped quietly from her hammock, bare feet silent on the planks.

Dalen was there, crouched by the storage hatch. His hands moved quickly, prying the crate open. The glow of the Bough spilled over his face, turning his eyes wild.

“What are you doing?” Subaru whispered.

Dalen jolted, spinning toward her. His mouth opened, but before he could speak.

The sea groaned.

A deep, bone-shaking sound vibrated through the hull. The ship rocked violently, nearly throwing Subaru to the ground.

“Papa!” she shouted.

Kenichi burst from his quarters, Naoko right behind him. Callus and Bran stumbled up the stairs, weapons in hand. Maree grabbed Subaru, pulling her close.

Then the water split.

A shape rose from the depths, so vast it blotted out the stars. White. Pale. Eyes like dead moons.

The Pallid Whale.

It opened its maw, large enough to swallow the entire ship whole.

Its mouth closed around us with the sound of thunder. Wood snapped like matchsticks. The world tilted and fell, swallowed by darkness.

I screamed, but the noise was lost in the deafening crash of water and bone. Maree clung to me, shielding me with her body as the deck shuddered and pitched. We were inside. Inside its mouth.

The air stank of blood and rot. The walls pulsed around us, slick and wet. Teeth like white cliffs loomed on every side, ropes of flesh hanging between them. The tongue shifted beneath the ship, heaving us toward the abyss.

“We’re in its maw!” Bran shouted. “Gods above we’re already in!”

Naoko stabbed her spear into the tongue. The Whale shuddered, the floor tilting under us. “fight it! We’ll make it choke if we have to!”

Kenichi’s eyes darted, searching. Then they fixed on the hinge where the jaw met the skull, a swollen joint of pale cartilage. He jabbed the railing toward it. “There! The hinge! If we crack it open”

Bran and Callus didn’t need more. Bran rammed his harpoon deep into the joint, the flesh squelching around it. Callus looped rigging rope around the shaft, bracing himself against the nearest tooth.

“On your call, Captain!” Callus grunted.

Kenichi wedged the railing between the harpoon and the joint. He braced his feet wide, every muscle in his arms standing out like corded steel. “Pull!”

The rope screamed. Callus and Bran hauled with everything they had, their faces red with strain. Kenichi shoved the mast forward, wood groaning in protest.

The Whale convulsed, a sound like a mountain crumbling erupting from its throat. The hinge cracked, the jaw peeling open a hand’s span.

“Not enough!” Kenichi roared.

Naoko lunged in, driving her spear again and again into the tender flesh. The Whale thrashed, the tongue bucking like a storming bull. The gap widened another inch, light spilling in from the outside.

“It’s working!” Naoko cried.

But the ship shuddered, timbers snapping. We were sinking deeper, being dragged toward the throat.

Maree’s arms trembled around me. Her breath was warm against my ear, choked with tears. “Subaru, listen to me. You’re going to live. Do you hear me? You’re going to live.”

Kenichi turned, sweat and blood streaking his face. His eyes locked on me, blazing with love so fierce it burned. 

“Subaru!”

I froze.

“You will live. Whatever it takes. You must live!”

The spear bent, splinters flying. The ropes frayed, strands snapping. The gap was closing already.

“Now or never!” Bran shouted. His arms shook violently, blood seeping from his palms where the rope tore skin.

Naoko jabbed one last time, her cry fierce, desperate. The hinge cracked wider. Just wide enough.

Kenichi dropped the mast, rushed across the deck, and seized me by the shoulders. His grip was iron. His voice broke. “We love you, Subaru. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Then he threw me.

The world turned white. As I flew through the narrow gap, skin scraping against jagged teeth. For a heartbeat, I thought I’d be crushed. But the Whale convulsed, and I was spat out into the freezing night.

The sea swallowed me whole.

I tumbled, spinning, choking on salt. My chest burned. I kicked, clawed, but the weight of the ocean pressed me down. I was drowning.

Something bumped against my arm a plank, slick and splintered. I clung to it, my nails digging in, coughing up water. My lungs screamed, but I forced myself to breathe. One ragged gasp. Then another.

Above me, the sea exploded. The Pallid Whale thrashed, shrieking with the sound of a thousand storms. Through the blur of water and tears, I saw the ship, my family, my everything vanish back into its maw.

“Papa!” I tried to scream, but only a sob tore free.

The sea heaved, dragging me under again. I kicked, clung to the plank, tears mixing with salt.

Then I heard it.

“Move! It’s mine, it's mine, let me through!”

I twisted, gasping. Through the half-open jaw, just before it sealed, I saw him Dalen. His eyes wild, his hand clutching something golden that glowed even in the black water. He shoved past Bran, clawing toward the exit. Toward me.

For a second, I thought he’d make it. Thought he’d crawl through. But the Whale convulsed, snapping its jaws shut. The gap vanished. Dalen’s scream cut off in an instant.

And then there was nothing.

Only the sea. Only the cold. Only me, clinging to a splinter of wood, as the monster and everyone I loved disappeared into the depths.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The first thing Emilia saw when her eyes opened was the wall calendar.

A square of parchment pinned neatly above the dresser, its numbers drawn in Subaru’s uneven handwriting. A little doodle of a clumsy-looking cake was scribbled over today’s date.

April 1st.

(It’s Subaru’s birthday. Today we’ll celebrate, just the two of us.)

The thought surfaced automatically, warm and steady, filling her chest with a comfort she hadn’t known in her early years. She lay there for a moment longer, cocooned in that warmth, before turning her head.

Beside her, Subaru stirred, hair sticking up in every possible direction, mouth hanging open inelegantly. His hand twitched against the sheets until it found hers, curling instinctively around her fingers. Even in sleep, he reached for her.

She smiled, her heart tightening at the sight. For so long, her mornings had been cold with people fearing her just because of her appearance, her reflection in the mirror reminding her of the witch they saw instead of the girl she was. But here… here was Subaru, unashamed, unafraid. Hers.

“Good morning,” she whispered, brushing his cheek.

His eyes fluttered open, brown and alive, and immediately curved into that grin that always made her chest ache.

“Emilia-tan,” he said, voice raspy with sleep, “you look even prettier first thing in the morning. Totally unfair, you know that?”

Her cheeks flushed. “S-Subaru! Don’t say silly things the moment you wake up.”

“Not silly. Absolute truth.” He sat up, stretching like a cat before pointing dramatically at the calendar. “And besides! Today is extremely important. Today, the world celebrates the arrival of its brightest star me!”

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Natsuki Subaru.”

“Hey, don’t steal my punchline!”

They dissolved into easy laughter, the kind that left Emilia’s shoulders light and her heart buzzing.

The morning passed in domestic warmth.

Subaru insisted on cooking his own birthday breakfast. He marched into the kitchen with exaggerated bravado, waving a spatula like a knight’s sword, shooing her out every time she tried to peek.

“Absolutely not!” he cried. “Today, you are the guest of honor. I’ll accept no backtalk. Pancakes await!”

She settled at the table, hands folded, trying not to giggle at the noises that followed: clattering pans, Subaru humming off-key, the occasional hissed curse when something sizzled too violently.

When he finally emerged, it was with a triumphant grin and a plate stacked high with pancakes, edges slightly burnt, syrup spilling over in a sticky waterfall.

“Ta-daa!” he declared, setting it down before her. “The taste of love, slightly charred but made with devotion!”

Emilia couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up. “It looks… delicious,” she said, and meant it.

They ate together, Subaru making silly faces every time he caught her looking. She thought, not for the first time, that this, this ordinary, clumsy happiness was the paradise she had always dreamed of but never dared to believe could be hers.

The afternoon sunlight was soft, scattering through the garden. Subaru tugged her outside after breakfast, claiming he had something to show her.

“What is it?” she asked, letting him lead her by the hand.

“You’ll see!” he said with a mischievous wink.

He guided her to the middle of the garden, where a blanket had been spread, messy and uneven. Atop it sat a small box wrapped in crooked ribbon.

“For you,” he said, pressing the box into her hands.

She blinked. “But… it’s your birthday.”

“Which means I get to be selfish, right? And what I want… is to see you smile. So open it.”

Her fingers trembled as she pulled the ribbon loose. Inside lay a hair ornament: simple, silver, with a tiny amethyst gem that caught the sunlight and shimmered like ice.

“I thought it looked like you,” Subaru said, scratching his cheek. “Strong but gentle. And, uh, pretty. Really pretty.”

Her eyes blurred. She swallowed hard, placing a hand over her heart. “Subaru… thank you.”

For a moment, the garden, the sky, the entire world narrowed to just his smile, wide and unguarded, and the quiet thrum of her heart.

Night fell gently.

They sat together by the fire, Subaru’s arm slung lazily around her shoulders, her head resting against him. He talked, always talking about little things: the villagers’ antics, silly memories, ideas for next year. She listened, more to the sound of his voice than the words themselves.

When she finally drifted to sleep, she thought, (I don’t want this to end. If only tomorrow could be like today again…)

Her eyes opened.

The calendar hung above the dresser. April 1st.

(It’s Subaru’s birthday. Today we’ll celebrate, just the two of us.)

The thought surfaced easily, warm and familiar but Emilia frowned faintly. Hadn’t… hadn’t they already celebrated?

She shook her head. No. She must have dreamed it.

Beside her, Subaru stirred, reaching instinctively for her hand.

“Good morning, Emilia-tan,” he murmured, eyes opening to reveal that same unshakable grin. “Did you know you’re glowing right now?”

Her heart skipped. The words… felt familiar. Too familiar.

She smiled anyway, pushing the odd weight aside. “Subaru, you can’t just say things like that right after waking up.”

He laughed, stretching. “Sure I can. Today’s special, after all.”

He pointed at the calendar.

“April first! The day the world welcomed the legend, the one and only”

She finished for him softly, “Natsuki Subaru.”

His pout was perfect, almost identical to yesterday?...

Emilia’s smile lingered, but her heart gave a faint, uneasy flutter.

(Strange. This feels… so familiar.)

The calendar.

April 1st.

(It’s Subaru’s birthday. Today we’ll celebrate, just the two of us.)

The words came again, smooth and natural. But this time, Emilia lingered on the calendar longer than before. The little cake doodle Subaru had scribbled she knew its shape too well. The curve of the icing, the lopsided candle.

Why… Do I remember this so clearly?

Her hand went to her lips as Subaru stirred beside her, rubbing his eyes with a yawn.

“Emilia-tan,” he mumbled, “you look so unfairly pretty this early, it should be against the law.”

Her heart thudded. The familiar words. The exact grin.

She forced a smile. “Subaru, you really do say the strangest things.”

But unease prickled down her spine, even as he stretched and declared the day his “most glorious birthday ever.”

The morning played out with small differences: Subaru burned the pancakes worse than before; he dropped syrup on his shirt and cursed, making her laugh harder than she expected.

But by afternoon, the rhythm felt inevitable. He tugged her outside into the streets, wanting to walk hand-in-hand through the town.

“Subaru,” she whispered nervously as eyes lingered on her silver hair, on her face too much like the witch they feared.

But Subaru squeezed her hand. “Let ’em stare. They’re missing out if they can’t see how amazing you are.”

Her chest warmed… until a cry split the street. A child, tumbling into the road as a carriage clattered near.

“Hold on!” Subaru shouted, sprinting without hesitation. He scooped the child into his arms, rolling them both clear just as the carriage thundered past.

The mother sobbed thanks. Subaru just laughed it off, brushing dust from his sleeve.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Birthday reflexes!” he said with a grin, returning to Emilia’s side.

But her hand trembled in his.

(Even on his birthday, he risks himself. If he keeps doing this… who will keep him safe?)

She held him tighter that night, refusing to let go even as sleep dragged her under.

When her eyes opened.

The calendar. April 1st.

Her stomach dropped.

This time, she couldn’t ignore it. Every detail landed like an echo: the pancakes, the walk, the way Subaru tripped over the same stone in the garden.

Déjà vu smothered her like a fog. She laughed when he did, she smiled when he teased but inside, she trembled.

And that evening, as they sat by the fire, Subaru’s voice softened.

“You know… sometimes I get scared.”

Emilia turned sharply. “Scared?”

“Yeah.” His smile was fragile, lopsided. “Like… What if I can’t keep up with you forever? What if one day I let you down? You deserve someone who’s strong enough to always protect you.”

Her throat closed. She reached for his hand, clutching it. “Subaru, don’t say that. You’re already everything to me. You don’t need to be more than you are.”

For a moment, his eyes shone not playful, not exaggerated, but genuine. Vulnerable.

She pressed closer, burying her face in his shoulder. (Don’t ever vanish. Don’t ever leave me.)

When she woke up

The calendar. April 1st.

Her breath hitched.

By now, she was almost waiting for it. The date. The same words. The same grin.

She moved through the day with sharp awareness. When Subaru cracked a joke, she whispered the punchline first, startling him. When he reached for her hand, she was already holding his.

“Whoa, Emilia-tan,” he laughed. “You’re one step ahead of me today.”

She smiled shakily. (Because I’ve already lived this day. Again and again.)

That night, as they sat together, Subaru squeezed her hand and whispered, “No matter what, Emilia-tan… you’re the only one I’ll stay with. Always.”

Her chest swelled and shattered all at once.

(I want to freeze this moment. I want this to last forever, but at the same time I want to escape from it.)

She went to sleep clutching him desperately.

And woke up again.

The calendar. April 1st.

Her laugh came out broken.

The days repeated. Over and over.

April 1st. Subaru’s grin. Pancakes, burnt just so. His hand in hers, warm and certain.

She began to collect the details like precious jewels: the way his sleeve rolled when he cooked, the tilt of his head when he teased, the tiny scar on his knuckle.

​Each day, he saved someone, a child, a stranger, even a stray dog. His heroism always left him battered and aching, yet still he smiled. And so she smiled outwardly while her heart clenched tighter.

(Why must you always give yourself away? When will you keep something for yourself,can you be a little bit more selfish and keep yourself for me?)

Some villagers still whispered “witch” behind her back, their eyes sharp. Subaru never faltered. His loyalty never wavered.

And Emilia clung harder. She memorized how he liked his tea, exactly how long to steep it, how many sugar cubes. She studied the rhythm of his laugh until she could predict it.

Paradise became a prison. The day was too beautiful, too fragile, too repetitive. A gilded cage she could not leave.

And still, every morning.

The calendar. April 1st.

(If only he would be selfish. Just once. Then maybe… maybe I could keep him forever.)

The calendar.

April 1st.(495 loops)

(It’s Subaru’s birthday. Today we’ll celebrate, just the two of us.)

The thought rose in her mind like always, but this time Emilia didn’t resist the flood of familiarity. She knew. This was the day she had lived more times than she could count.

But she also knew something else: fighting it was useless. If this was her paradise, her cage, then today… she would stop grasping. Today, she would simply love him.

It was the most perfect April 1st of them all.

She laughed until her cheeks hurt at his silly pancake disasters. She teased him before he could trip over the garden stone. She kissed him when he gave her the crookedly wrapped gift, and he flushed so brightly she thought her heart might burst.

All day, she let herself soak in Subaru’s warmth, without clinging, without fear. Just love.

That night, lying against him by the fire, Emilia whispered, “Thank you, Subaru. For everything.”

He blinked, surprised. “That’s my line, Emilia-tan.”

She smiled, tears pricking her lashes. “Even if this day had to end… I’d still be happy. Because it was with you.”

He kissed her forehead, whispering, “Then let’s make tomorrow just as good.”

Her eyes opened.

She blinked at the calendar. April.

Her heart stopped.

April… 2nd.

The candle doodle was gone. The next square was marked with Subaru’s messy scrawl: “Lunch with Emilia-tan!! (Don’t forget flowers).”

Her breath caught, trembling. She pressed her hand to her mouth.

(It changed. It really changed. The day is… moving forward.)

For a wild, dizzy instant, she felt relief crash over her like water. She was free. Free from the endless repetition, free from the cage of paradise.

Years Passing.

Seasons blended into each other. Years passed by with a blink.

Emilia watched the world turn while Subaru grew older.

At first it was small: a wrinkle at the corner of his eyes when he laughed, the way he rubbed his shoulder after carrying heavy loads. He joked about it endlessly “The great Natsuki Subaru, undone by back pain!” but she saw the truth beneath the grin.

Then came the coughs, sharp and lingering. The slower gait when they walked through the village. The mornings when he lingered in bed not out of laziness, but exhaustion.

“Subaru, please,” she whispered more and more often. “Let others handle it. Just rest.”

But he only smiled that stubborn smile. “You know me, Emilia-tan. If someone’s in trouble, I can’t just sit back. It’s who I am.”

(But what about me? What about us?) she thought, tears burning behind her eyes.

He never stopped helping. Even when his hands trembled, even when he coughed into a sleeve stained faintly with blood, even when every step cost him a breath.

He saved a farmer’s child from drowning. He shielded a traveler from falling debris. He gave away his food, his energy, his strength until there was nothing left but a husk of the man who had once carried her through fire.

Emilia held him through nights when fever wracked his body. She begged him: “Be selfish. Just once. Let yourself belong only to me.”

Subaru’s hand tightened faintly around hers, his smile tired but steady. “Emilia-tan… if I turned my back, even once, on someone I could have saved… then I wouldn’t be me anymore. I know you’d still love me, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Not if their blood was on my hands when I could have stopped it.”

Her tears soaked his shirt as she clutched him harder. “But it’s killing you, Subaru. Every time, it’s killing you.”

He pressed a kiss to her trembling hand. “Then forgive me… for not knowing how to live any other way.”

It happened on a cold spring day, decades after the loops had ended. Subaru had gone to the village despite her pleas, determined to help fend off a sudden attack of wild beasts. He stood between danger and the helpless, as he always had.

By the time Emilia reached him, it was too late.

He lay in the grass, blood pooling beneath him, villagers crying out around them. His body was broken, his breath shallow.

“Subaru!” Emilia screamed, falling to her knees. She cradled his head, tears blinding her. “No no, stay with me! You promised you promised you’d never leave!”

His lips moved, faint and trembling. “Emilia-tan… I-i’m sorry. I… couldn’t even k-keep that promise.”

Her world shattered. “Don’t say that, don’t you dare.”

His eyes, dimming, still tried to hold hers. Still warm, still Subaru.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Thank you… for making every day into a paradise.”

And with that, the light went out.

Emilia’s scream tore the sky.

She clung to him, shaking, sobbing, begging for him to wake up, for him to continue being her paradise, begging the world to bring him back, begging anything to give him back.

(You promised me forever. You promised you wouldn’t leave. You can’t leave. You can’t)

Darkness claimed her.

The calendar. April 1st.

(It’s Subaru’s birthday. Today we’ll celebrate, just the two of us.)

Her eyes widened. She knew this. She knew what had already happened Subaru’s aging, his decline, his final breath and broken promise. She remembered her grief, her desperation.

But here she was again. Back in the morning light. Back in their room. Back in the loop.

She stared at the calendar until her vision blurred, until tears spilled silently down her cheeks. For a long moment, she couldn’t move. Her chest ached with the weight of everything she had carried.

Beside her, Subaru stirred, reaching clumsily for her hand as he always did. “Mornin’, Emilia-tan…”

His grin was the same. His voice was the same. Everything was the same.

The calendar. 

April 1st.(loop 1,318)

(It’s Subaru’s birthday. Today we’ll celebrate, just the two of us.)

Beside her, Subaru stirred, hair sticking up in every possible direction, mouth hanging open inelegantly. His hand twitched against the sheets until it found hers, curling instinctively around her fingers. Even in sleep, he reached for her.

And for the first time, Emilia didn’t cling. She didn’t try to trap the moment or hoard it away. Instead, she held his hand gently, brushing her thumb over his knuckles, committing the warmth to memory without fear.

“Good morning, Subaru,” she whispered, smiling.

They moved through the day as they always had, but Emilia was different.

When Subaru burned the pancakes, she laughed not with desperation, but with gratitude. When he tripped over the garden stone, she caught him, and instead of crying inside that she had seen it before, she kissed his cheek.

When he handed her the crookedly wrapped gift, she didn’t choke on fear of tomorrow she simply opened it and said, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Her heart ached the whole time, but it was a clean ache.

At sunset, they sat together by the fire, the crackling embers painting Subaru’s face in gold. Emilia leaned against him, breathing him in, savoring the rhythm of his chest.

“Subaru,” she said softly.

“Yeah?”

Her fingers curled into his shirt. “I know… you won’t always be here. Time will take you, one day. And I… I can’t stop that.”

He blinked at her, caught off guard. “Emilia-tan”

She pressed her forehead to his. “But even if you go where I can’t follow… I’ll still love you. Always.”

His eyes widened, then softened into the gentlest smile she had ever seen. He kissed her forehead, whispering, “That’s forever enough, isn’t it?”

She closed her eyes, holding him as though the world might fall apart. “Yes. Forever enough.”

That night, she slept without clinging. Without begging. Just holding him, letting love fill her instead of fear or desperation.

“...Mamaaaa. Mama, wakee up.”

The voice was soft, insistent. Emilia stirred, eyelids heavy, heart still wrapped in dream.

When she opened her eyes, the calendar was gone. The room was different. Sunlight filtered through familiar curtains, but the figure at her bedside was not Subaru.

It was a girl, with silver hair like hers and brown eyes full of life.

Chochorina. Their daughter.

“Mama,” Chochorina said, smiling faintly. “It’s Daddy’s birthday. We should go to the cemetery. Let’s bring him flowers.”

For a moment, Emilia couldn’t breathe. The dream still clung to her the loop, the laughter, Subaru’s hand in hers. But this was reality, he was gone. He had left, just as time demanded.

And yet… she wasn’t shattered. Not this time.

Her chest hurt, yes. Tears welled. But beneath the pain was something steadier, stronger. Acceptance.

She reached out, cupping Chochorina’s cheek, and smiled through her tears. “Yes. Let’s go. He would like that.”

They walked together beneath the spring sky, flowers in hand. Emilia’s steps were light, though her eyes were misty. Chochorina chatted softly about which flower daddy might prefer, her laughter sounding like Subaru’s once had.

At the grave, Emilia knelt, laying the flowers gently on the stone. Her hand lingered on the carved name, her lips moving in a whisper only the wind could hear:

“Thank you, Subaru. For loving me. For giving me forever.”

Her daughter slipped her hand into hers, and Emilia smiled, not broken, but whole.

The loops, the paradise, the grief they were all part of her now. But she didn’t need to trap Subaru in an endless day anymore. He lived on in her heart, in Chochorina’s laughter, in the warmth he had given her.

Forever wasn’t about freezing time. Forever was about carrying love forward, even when tomorrow comes.

And so Emilia stood, flowers swaying gently in the breeze, her daughter’s hand in hers. Together, they walked away from the grave.

Her heart ached. Her heart healed.

And she accepted his loss.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text