Archive of Our Own

January 31st, 9 AC

I am utterly spent from another miserable meeting with the Futuran Command. It's been months and they still refuse to budge on allowing the humans river access, and no amount of concession seems to sway them. Made worse is that, since the assassination a year ago and the Exodus leadership refuses parlay on neutral ground, the only ones involved in the treatise arrangement are those who know full well that the humans don't deserve even half the leniency they've been given. And the General, of course. Bleeding heart that he is. 

The most sound argument that can be made - allowing the human settlement river access would greatly lessen their land area requirements for at least a decade - falls flat when historically they have been wont to take a mile when given an inch.

Ha. Historically.

Can the past 9 years be truly called history yet, when no victor has been declared? Though I suppose the war did start long, long before then, and humanity has a dense and well documented past of doing much the same.

Though now that I have sorted through the better part of the library, I can say with certainty that so do the native population of Futurum. As much as they like to present themselves the gentle, god-fearing innocents, they have plenty colorful stories of the same divine power that runs through my veins wielded against their own. V'ehxness was not uniquely awful in that way, though her stain is by far the most prominent in living memory.

I wish dearly that someone would bend and the Rebellion could move on past this tired debate. I care little what direction it falls at this point. The stress of it all has been affecting the General's health of late, and therefore it falls to me to pick up the slack, as always.

Though, perhaps Takumi's restless sleep has been due to other things. It seems he has been drinking less frequently as of the past couple weeks, and I know withdrawal can be particularly painful. I suppose if this tired affair does get him to finally kick his addiction, I can suffer quietly a little longer. 

February 2nd, 9 AC

The snowstorm forced a much needed reprieve from the endless meetings. The General gave me the day off to enjoy the weather. He implied it would be so he could catch up on work he'd been slacking on, but though I have not yet reviewed what has been done, I am certain he spent the day sleeping in.

Winter is miserable and cold, and snow is perhaps one of the singularly most inconvenient weather patterns. Yet I can't help but admire it. The whole world goes quiet. Humans and Futurans alike rarely venture out far beyond their own backyards. This is how I get free rein of movement without needing to see or smell or hear a single one of the hideous beasts I'm duty bound to protect.

Only my ears and nose threatening to fall off brought me back to the warmth of our home base. I haven't seen Takumi since this morning, but I have it on good authority that he had slept himself up a hearty appetite sometime around lunch. How disgustingly typical of him.

It is good to know he has an appetite though. Too often these last several years, he's forgone any form of sustenance in favor of sleep or work.

February 5th, 9 AC

Thanks to the snowstorm, it seems the whole world has come to a standstill. Maybe if it lasts long enough, Takumi will finally catch up on all the sleep he obviously sorely needs. 

I've made good use of the extra free time to further chip away at cataloguing the library. Currently I am sorting through the nature section. It has easily been my favorite thus far. Humans may have done away with Earth, but the planet we now call home has its own glorious bounty of flora and fauna and natural landscape. 

Between my tendency to more thoroughly flip through these books and the sheer quantity of nooks, it has taken me over a year so far on these shelves alone. One could bet with even odds which will end first, this project or the war itself.

February 8th, 9 AC

I nearly bumped into Takumi returning from the cafeteria this evening. I had not wished to put a pen to my worries, but it is as I had feared on both counts. 

Firstly, the General has caught an illness of some kind. This shouldn't be surprising, but in all the time I have known him, he has never gotten sick outside of mild cases of food or alcohol poisoning. The undying flames within the both of us seem to burn off any infection before it could take root.

But he was obviously unwell. His eyes sagged and oozed an unholy mixture of blood and pus from their sunken sockets. What of his flesh was not concealed under his layers of clothing and within pockets looked even more ready to slough off at any moment than usual. His usual coating of slime had even dried up, which one would think to be an improvement, but rather give him the appearance of a shambling corpse. A dead man walking, is what I would say were I feeling particularly dramatic today. And perhaps I am, seeing as how...

Secondly, Takumi has definitely been avoiding me. He all but scurried away back towards his room the moment I laid eyes on him.

I did not bother to chase after him, though afterwards I spoke my concerns about his health to Yugamu. Naturally, the doctor had noticed the General's decline as well, and was monitoring the situation closely. He advised I needn't worry, as his patient was quite resilient and would bounce back soon enough.

This frustrated me to no end. If he truly was unwell, that meant he most certainly hadn't been catching up on his work all this time. I did not wish to set aside the library project, but it simply was not going to get done unless I stepped in. Again. As always.

February 9th, 9 AC

The absolute state Takumi keeps his desk in is horrific. It is as though he has not heard of the wondrous thing known as a filing system and insists instead upon stuffing papers willy-nilly wherever they may fit. After a fruitless day spent trying to determine what does and doesn't need to be done while disturbing things as little as possible, I have decided instead to take things fully into my own hands and clean his desk for him.

It is not as if I am a stranger to going through it to remove his secret sashes of alcohol, or to fetch things for him on request. When he is feeling well again, he will no doubt praise me for how much better organized it is. 

February 10th, 9 AC

For the first time since I began keeping these records, I find myself at a loss for what to write not for lack of thoughts but for an excess. I will begin by listing the facts. 

• His desk is clean now.
• His condition has worsened.
• Yugamu does not want me to know this.
• Takumi does not wish me to know this.
• I have discovered something in his desk he did not want me to know.
• I refuse to write what I found here.
• He was NOT supposed to know of this.
• I have destroyed everything I found on the matter.
• I can only hope he has not gotten any foolish ideas in his head already.

I am going to bed now. Perhaps tomorrow my mind will be less in turmoil. 

February 11th, 9 AC

I have kept logs and detailed reports of events as they have occurred, including things that may compromise the integrity of myself and of the rest of the Special Defense Unit. When I die, I am certain these journals will be of valuable historic record, and a first hand account of the horrors wrought by both sides will make a riveting primary account for anyone wishing to become familiar with the cruelties of our two species.

It is with this in mind that I shall double down with no remorse on my destructive actions. How he found this information, I have no idea. It should have all been erased well over a year ago now.

I fear the only thing keeping him from seeking out more on the topic is his bedridden state and the now fading snowstorm. Though I do wonder for how long he has known of this. Was it more than just the infuriating antics of the Futuran Command that has troubled him these last several weeks?

At the very least, there is no world where he would be able to procure something like that for himself without my noticing.

February 12th, 9 AC

Normally I would rather pluck out my own eyeballs than play bedside nurse to someone sick. And besides, him and Yugamu both have shooed me off every time I've attempted, citing fears of contagion. They have a sound point, of course. Were both of us to be down for the count, who would pick up all the administrative work?

Today though, I politely turned down their suggestion that I stay away, and joined Takumi for lunch. As sick as he has been this past week, it was reassuring at least to see that he still has his appetite.

We spoke for several hours afterwards. Over the years I have grown accustomed to his noxious stench, his malformed appearance, and the hideous noises of his that substitute for speech. I would not say I have found myself missing those awful things of late, but while we talked I found myself wishing they bothered me more. 

Though perhaps I would not have been able to stomach hours of conversation with him had they done so. Given his condition, I did most of the talking, catching him up on current affairs, filling him in on the progress with the library.

At some point the discussion turned to the future. I don't often dwell there myself as cynicism tells me there is no true happy ending awaiting us. We are weapons made for war and nothing else. The idea of settling down after our entire waking lives have been nothing but battle is absurd.

Perhaps also, though I am loathe to admit it, I know in my heart that a happy ending for some looks very different than it would look for others. Incompatibly so.

Through our discussion today, it seemed Takumi was aware of this as well. He seemed so careful not to place himself in my future. Subtly. He is still a kind man, after all... But I could not bring myself to suggest anything otherwise and force the matter into a painful truth or a poisonous lie. I still have my pride.

The unaddressed melancholy of that topic carried us into the past as well. Past failures and more. He spoke to me more of his first hundred days than he ever had. How he'd trusted and been betrayed. How he'd regretted his naiveté for a long time, but thinking back on it lately he's glad it ended up working out that way. How he didn't want to regret anything anymore.

Even if he was talking about another timeline I had never lived, it was gratifying to hear. How even not yet tempered by the years spent by his side, he still looked back fondly on my sharpness. How even at my worst, he still thought well of me. 

Enough of that disgusting, cloying nonsense though. The snow has mostly cleared now, and the political drama was set to gear right back up just as fierce as always. 

Hopefully the General is well and truly on the mend and he will be available to do the talking.

February 13th, 9 AC

The continuation of the discussion has been scheduled for a few days from now. I have however been reminded of something even more troubling and annoying.

Tomorrow was Valentine's Day. 

Such an insipid holiday would not typically even hold a place in my mind, but with the push for the SDU to be public figures as much as soldiers, we have amassed a following of sorts. It has something to do with the legacy the Paragons left behind. They were as much protectors of the land as they were leaders and in some cases even idols. 

Some of our number have adapted worse to this shift in dynamics than others... Such as myself.
Some of our number hate this more than others... Such as myself.
Some of our number are more wildly popular than others... Such as, for whatever godforsaken reason, myself.

Takumi once told me it was thanks to my "mysterious allure." I believe at the time I kindly offered to suggest to Yugamu he may need some corrective eye or brain surgery. Just because I avoid the public eye as much as possible does not make me "mysterious." 

The General too, is subject of significant adoration, and he takes to it like a fish to water. It's truly pathetic how doe-eyed he gets over his hideous, mooning fans. If he's feeling well enough, he'll likely go greet some of the more intrepid locals who dare deliver gifts directly here. Absolutely sickening.  And he would no doubt partake without even a worry that a spy might be among them, serving up poisoned chocolate.

Perhaps if he stays under the weather for another day longer, I can intervene and make certain only properly vetted donations will reach him. It would mean putting up with the public myself, but with his ailing health it's perhaps the least I can do until he makes a full recovery.

February 14th, 9 AC

he's beautiful

two eyes
a defined nose
skin as smooth as paper and darkened faintly from the sun - not decay
hair that looks soft to touch

My hand is shaking even now as I try to put to words what I saw.

It was him. I'm certain.

I'm not sure how. He looked so different.   he looked so

Beautiful. Breathtaking. Divine. Handsome?

I have put the human language through its paces to describe the hideousness of mankind but when it comes to this I

dont know

I feel sick. It's him I'm certain. 

Nobody else batted an eye except to celebrate his recovery.

Do they not see he's changed?

the way he smiled when he saw me 

his smile it's

Radiant? Like warmth and light pouring in through the window, reflecting off the dust particles in the air. The sort of light you want to bask in forever.

His concerned expression was beautiful too. His forehead crinkled up and his eyes were only on me. I've never before wanted to appear sickly and helpless but in that moment if it worried him, probably with my own expression which must have been frightening.

he hurts to look at

Differently than most humans. Im used totheir filth and grotesque appearance by now

I didn't want to leave his side as I did but I wanted  to commit this all to paper before it goes away.

And besides i had a sudden bout of nausea before we reached the entry hall where we would be forced to greet the mob of hideous fans.

I did not want to spoil the scene with partially digested food. 

takumi you

later

I had to stop writing abruptly as he stopped by my room. I don't recall how I planned for that sentence to go.

He is still beautiful. I should be relieved my departure didn't break this enchantment.

Somehow I am not.

Perhaps it is just that I need to eat after expelling my breakfast earlier, but I still feel quite ill.

I am certain I didn't catch whatever he had. This sickness feels psychosomatic, I believe it is called. It feels old and familiar. Like the fear that bound me to my room as a child.

His new appearance didn't erase my very real memories of him. Perhaps it is those I should have documented thoroughly before this new vision of him does overwrite them.

He truly is beautiful. It was only through force of habit that I did not invite him in to stay and talk a while. 

And that I could barely form a sentence, but that's neither here nor there... Even his voice is like a luxury velvet compared to the velcro or shark skin it was before. If he had asked to stay and talk, I may not have had the will to turn him away. His noxious scent is gone too. Changed, perhaps, to something more subtle. 

Fortunately I do still have my pride.

Yugamu also came to check up on me, no doubt sent along by Takumi.

He still looked and sounded and reeked the same as always. I feigned a few extra symptoms and insisted I just needed to sleep it off like the General had.

February 15th, disgustingly early in the morning

Sleep and distance from him have given me a clarity I did not have before. 

A part of me is unwilling to commit these doubts to paper. As if doing so will make it real. But I have never been one to shy from the cruel truths of this world

I am beginning to doubt yesterday's certainty.

I will need to think on this more.

Afternoon

I spoke with him again.

If this is how every human sees every other human, I cannot fathom how anyone gets any work done ever.

I feel as though I have learned nothing of use from him.

If anything aside from his appearance has changed, I can't yet tell for certain. Excepting that maybe this version of him is particularly interested in my good graces.

I have at least confirmed that his memory is intact. He remembers instances of conversations held privately between us. Ones I have not committed even within these pages.

Zen'ta, one of the deceased Futuran Paragons, had the ability to shapeshift as well as absorb memories, but I found her quite disturbing whichever form she took on. Even her copies of myself were horrific mockeries of the human figure, though with a few exceptions nobody else could tell the difference. But there is no doubt she is long dead, considering I'm the one who killed and absorbed her.

The possibility of a newly awakened Paragon masquerading about is not null, but certainly approaches it close enough to dismiss for now.

Perhaps Yugamu may have insight, considering his proximity to Takumi of late.

Evening

He was as unhelpful as expected, citing patient privacy, though when I pressed him on the basis that I too was feeling unwell, he was strangely adamant that he had determined that Takumi's sickness was not, in fact, contagious at all.

February 16th, 9 AC

Meetings again.

Nothing has changed except him. If anyone else perceives something different, they are keeping it well to themselves.

I dearly wanted to make a bloody mess of things anytime someone interrupted him with their hideous noises.

February 17th, 9 AC

He will be the death of me, let this be made well known. I should kill him myself before subjecting myself to further torture. 

It seems my expressions and mannerisms of late have implied things that I would rather not have presumed of me. Apparently even Gaku has deduced there is, in his words, "something up."

No, worse even than that, Takumi himself has. He approached me about it and I feigned illness to get away before I said anything I could not take back, but I later overheard Moko giggling to Tsubasa about "lovesickness." 

They could not possibly understand the truth.

Though in fairness, I don't either. Tomorrow I will quarantine myself in the library to continue that work. If the General requires an assistant, he can find one who doesn't want to kill himself when he has to watch Takumi fumble through the planet's most awkward interrogation.

Feb 18

I have been hopelessly stupid.

Takumi is hopelessly stupid.

Takumi w

February 20th, 9 AC

I knew he would do this.

Stupid stupid stupid foolish idiotic brainless little demon.

I hate him. I hate hate hate hate him. I despise him with all of my heart.

March 1st, 9 AC

The Revive-o-Matic takes longer these days to get a person back in working order.

I woke up to... it sitting next to my bed some time yesterday. As much as it sickens me, it is still beautiful.

It apologized. It had the gall to apologize to me. And not even for the thing that really matters.

It apologized before even asking why I'd tried to kill it. 

When I told it why, that it was beautiful, its reaction almost seemed real. Almost seemed like something he would have said.

But he would not have said them in that perfect voice or with that perfect face.

The image of the real Takumi is blurrier now. It shifts and warps in my memory in ways it never did before. The details are smudged and incoherent. 

I told it to leave. 

The image of its beautiful face contorted by confusion and sadness remains burned into my eyes as if I'd stared at the sun for too long. 

March 5th, 9 AC

It keeps stopping by the library to check on me.

Part of me wonders if I did manage to kill it, if the Revive-o-Matic would put him back together correctly. 

Part of me wonders if it's even possible to.

Maybe if I had acted sooner. Maybe if I had killed him bef

March 6th, 9 AC

It cornered me in my room earlier today. 

I had my doubts I would be able to write this entry at all after some of the things I said, but all it wanted was to talk. It didn't understand why I hated it so much. Laughable. It's almost like it inherited hi

I told it I knew what it was, knew what it had done. 

It seems to think it is him.

March 7th, 9 AC

The fact that the war continues on as though nothing has changed is a cruel joke.

Meetings are just as miserable as ever. I don't known why it still bothers trying so hard. Does it really intend to live out the rest of h

March 8th, 9 AC

It is trying to kill me.

Not with the deformed purple limb it hides in its oversized sweater and jacket like it did last month. I would much rather that to this, even if the Revive-o-Matic couldn't patch me up again.

I won't bend to its wiles, no matter how much it acts like him.

March 9th, 9, AC

It wasn't that thing that cornered me this time, but Moko and Tsubasa.

Maybe if it had just been Tsubasa I could have told her that she had no room to talk when it came to breaking Takumi's heart, but I wasn't feeling much like getting beaten up for making a girl cry. Even if the girl in question is a fully grown woman.

Only one other person knows of the thing masquerading as Takumi. I don't see much of a point of telling anyone, however. It is not as if they would believe me. I've destroyed all the evidence in my own favor. And I do not want to even imagine how mortifying it would be to explain exactly why I know it's an impostor. 

I have been avoiding even thinking about the assassin ever since he refused to give his insight. Not least because the sight of him, knowing he had a role in all of this, rests my temper on the edge of a hair trigger. Assassin, not doctor. That's all he was and all he'll ever be. What does it matter how many lives he's saved if he's willing to throw away h go this far?

The biggest pity about all this is that I'd be hard pressed to find a method to make him pay for what he's done that that hideous, masochistic ogre wouldn't enjoy.

He doesn't even deserve for his appearance to be insulted, the hateful traitor that he is. Not when I

March 10th, 9 AC

I will admit in writing if not aloud, I was surprised by how open the assassin was now that I knew the truth.

Here is what I learned:

• Yugamu knew of the item Takumi sought and why he wanted it prior to the discovery of the parasite itself.
• Yugamu was not made aware of the lengths Takumi would or had to go to before the thing was already embedded inside of him.
• He only found that out after a couple weeks of helping Takumi manage his pain and other symptoms.
• The embedding likely happened sometime in mid-January.
• Takumi refused any offer to attempt removal of the thing.
• He seems to be no closer to creating the item he started this for in the first place.
• The Revive-o-Matic still works slowly
  • Even on those who, like Yugamu, don't see the battlefield as often anymore. 
  • The slow revival makes for more effective doctor repellent than apples. *Assassin repellent
• There were, in fact, more documents on this thing in existence.
• There are no longer known documents on this thing in existence.

March 11th, 9 AC

I spent much of today in the library. It's mad at me, but not as mad as it should be, considering. Is that because there's not eno It acts worried about me, for whatever reason. I'm not the one that thing should be fussed about.

March 12th, 9 AC

I asked if it was at least able to create the item Takumi was searching for. It grew quiet and said it thinks it's figured out how.

I hadn't expected that answer, or I would have asked at a better time. We were stuck in meetings for much of the rest of that day. 

March 13th, 9 AC

It asked me if I would help it. 

I wanted very dearly to tell it in many different ways in both Japanese and Futuran to leave and don't speak to me again. Politely. Mostly. 

I agreed to hear it out instead. If what the assassin said was true, the item was likely the very last

was the very la

I agreed to help.

I will find out tomorrow just what that entails.

March 14th, 9 AC

It's smaller than I imagined it would be. 

And so much more red than even seems possible. I would describe it as being closest in color to blood, but even that doesn't do it justice. It's like cryptoglobin made crystalized, almost glowing with its own energy. 

And still only the size of my thumbnail.

Surely something this powerful important precious shouldn't be so tiny.

March 20th, 9 AC

Yugamu woke up and came by to unlock the cage for me. Neither of us spoke. Just got to it.

The spring rains saturated the ground making for messy work, but at least it wasn't still frozen.

April 16th, 9 AC

Four new members joined the Special Defense Unit today. I was let out for the welcoming ceremony, and afterwards nobody bothered to put me back.

Nozomi softly closes the journal and wipes the tears from her eyes. She remembers what happened from that point on, and there's really no need to read more even if six more years of journals are lined up neatly on the back part of Eito's desk.

This one alone answered all the questions that had burned a hole in the back of her mind since her abrupt return to life.

The door opened and Nozomi startled so bad she nearly threw the book across the room. "I-I was just-"

"Don't worry, Nozomi, it's just me." Yugamu crossed the room to her, smiling softly. "Anything interesting in there? I've always wondered what sordid thoughts he kept locked away for only himself."

"Haa...." Nozomi frowns, "Interesting, yes. Eito, he..." she swallows, folding her hands in her lap. "I..."

"He was quite the romantic, wasn't he?"

Nozomi nods a slow agreement. "I think I understand now why he..." she trailed off again, not wanting to voice it.

"I don't know what happened between them that day," Yugamu mused softly, "but I'd hazard a guess Takumi made him promise to keep everyone safe until the end of the war."

"I'm sure Takumi meant him to be included in that! Did he really believe-"

Yugamu laughs and shakes his head. "He was also quite a spiteful fellow. Very good at holding grudges. I'm sure he knew full well how Takumi felt on the matter."

Nozomi sighed forcefully. "That does sound like him. What a jerk..."

"I know, but that's what we all loved about him, isn't it?"

"Maybe you did!" Nozomi huffed, but shook her head after a few seconds. "I... suppose I got used to it after a while. And maybe he was always trying to keep a little bit of distance, since..." She gestures vaguely around at the room. "I guess it doesn't matter now."

"No, probably not."

"A- anyway, you came to get me for dinner, right? I should go. I can finish cataloguing his things tomorrow." Nozomi stood up and brushed out her skirt just to have something to do with her hands.

"I did indeed. Kurara made her special curry, and I wanted to make sure you could help yourself to some before Kyoshika and Moko eat it all."

"Thanks, Yugamu." Nozomi cracked a small smile. "We should check up on Darumi too. I know she's been taking this especially hard..."

The two departed Eito's cabin together, talking quietly. The journal from his ninth year lay out on his desk alone, the only thing out of place in the otherwise spotless white room.