Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Violence. One thing that is used for salvation and an excuse for the "greater good". One thing that humanity is familiar of. Apology are as dead as the victims of the deforestation of nature. Children learned it in textbook, in their exams, and while only one answer is correct, the law continue as it pleases to get rid of mother earth nature by replacing the land with industry filled with toxic fluid,

But yet, when the law falls, knowledge prevails. Whether it is the battle knowledge about knowing how to defend your rights from the law or the knowledge of arts in giving the sense of a feeling for the way the art piece gave or the knowledge of medicine that heals the injured while chasing the time. 

That alone is already magic to mere, normal humans. 
But it isn't as magical as it is.

The sacrifice that someone have to face while their partner dying from a foe who couldn't hold their weapon right, the sacrifice of criticism from people when they're shown something that they saw as a threat, or even the sacrifice of trying to save anyone a soul that had fallen right through the gaps of their finger due to them not being able to save another soul again.

Everything has its dark ending even when it feels like you're still in the middle of the chapter of the book that you read. An unnecessary ending that opens another form of alternative endings that isn't even canon in the book.

But it wouldn't be a joy to just read an ending that went with only one path. A community of people would find its creativeness and make their own ending, sharing those ideas to the internet. Maybe that was the technology for, something to be shared by community.

Oh how an appropriate amount of souls wish that things could went that way.

-

What more could fate bring to a soul so busy, so tiring, into a hospital full of a terrorized citizen that's gotten caught of an explosion in the middle of the city? Certainly one that wasn't meant to be there. You have gave it your all, sacrificing all your schedules into another person need in saving, having to take in an apprentice on your field along with taking care of many, many stack of papers, and it was only Thursday. 

Now, getting caught in an explosion during a busy road was never one of your plan of suicide list, but it did now. And it was sure one hell of a road. Being taken into the stretcher while the sirens of the ambulance ringing on your head. The doctor preparing for the HFNO device to put under your nostrils, seemingly in a rush while the other doctors tried to check for any vital injuries that you've suffered.

One seems to look like they were in a very traumatized state while trying to stabilize your form in the stretcher so that you felt comfortable, but with the pain that expanse through your skin the more you wait, it wouldn't even matter anymore. The pain felt numbing already and you were afraid of going into a state of unconscious. You hear some mumbling from the doctor while they treated your skin.

It's normal for doctors to recognize other doctors in a field but you aren't one of the very popular doctors who saved people from a nearly dead experience. It's one of the reason why someone of the doctors suddenly making a rush to help you when one of them pulled out a wallet from your pocket pants and opening it, where your ID stood out obviously on the front.

Was it like this? Having a stranger that's in the same major as you to recognize as one of them? It felt dull. Maybe it was because of the pain that you have to feel all together- the skin of yours burning in red, flesh exposed, and you felt like your bones is breaking- even if it doesn't feel like it, you knew how the pain greatly affect you. Especially on the way your vision started to darkened.

The ringing stop, the smells of medicine gone from your nose and the jumbles sounds of doctors cramping in the ambulance turned into a stiff, silent sound. You felt nothing yet you feel everything. The weight of your skin started to loosen and the pain had become numbing already. Seeing your body is one of the important thing that you always do, and now you can't feel the way your body going downwards to somewhere deeper in the dark.

You weren't afraid of the dark, only what's inside that darkness that scared you. Now, with no weight, you don't feel the body that you're in anymore. It felt like your soul had got out from your own body. It's doesn't feel like the one time where you thought you had succeeded on "lucid dreaming" to your favorite anime world - no, it's much more dreary and colorless. 

Not covered in warm. You felt cold, hell you felt naked even. Your vision was more useless. It doesn't seem to work anymore when you don't sense your body all together. Even so, you still have the original mind of yours- waiting for the 7 minutes of your life-time epilogue appearing. That's what every people believe, and how unfortunate that you get to be the one who experienced it. 

How was this supposed to happened? You, in the dark pit, no body to feel, no vision to glimpse, no warm to coat your soul. This is death. Yes- now you're experiencing death. However, no grim reaper welcoming you. Only yourself, no other soul or soul-less things that appeared before you- but by logic it's because you can't grasp at anything at this point.

You don't want to participate in this lonely party. It's cruel- even life is much crueler than this. You don't get to come across that one shop that you wanted to go in the other side of your country, you don't even get to participate in another beer competition with your co-worker, and you wouldn't be able to try that hobby of yours that you abandoned for your career.

Everything, gone into the end. You think again, dreaming of going back to your body and get the last beer into your mouth while IV dripped into your veins- but you knew, the body of yours might've deteriorated already, flesh exposed to the air gas- like a monster. Would you need to wear bandages around your face and sunglasses like Murray from Hotel Transylvania?

That reminds you, and made you realize how much of a person you are when you put yourself in the patients position. You were never one to expose emotions- that is already a protocol in the hospital of not being attached to a person during medical procedure or any medical practice. But you get why most people tends to let their life be in the hand of a doctor.

They know much more- even when they look like they don't, they always come to the nearest conclusion of the problem and solved it in just a mere time. Maybe that's why you admire yourself of becoming a doctor, may it wasn't because the way that your parents always tells you that doctors made much more money- that alone is a lie when NBA players made 10 times more than what doctors make.

And even when the moment is not right, that already pissed you off more. 

However, your frustration came into an end, when a gentle voice suddenly called out your name. You don't know what it is- an angel? Or a demon who mask the angel's voice? You don't care, you want to get out of this pit. You don't want to be surrounded with the coldness anymore. 

You can only rely on your hearing now- knowing that it is one of the few senses that hasn't lost its way to the darkness just yet. You tried to grasp anything- something, even if its small, like trying to reach something without having a limb. Impossible, but the determination is important as well.

Another gentle voice prick your ear again, now you can make out a vision- a little blue fire appeared right in front of you. It's something that you have no control in seeing, being it a rare phenomenon of sulfur gas in high temperature when being in contact with air. It's dangerous, beautiful even. Like admiring foxgloves in the coastal cliff. 

You noticed how it sparkle around nothing, brimming with light that filled with warm. Suddenly, you felt a weight again- whether it was good or bad, you now felt a sense of something coursing through you. You felt like running already as it called out to you again, almost not catching the voice due to how light the sound was.

Your legs- one of the few things that you can't sense when you entered the dark and cold part of death, felt like running to the fire. You don't know why, maybe its because you're searching up for warmth, maybe its because you wanted to get out of this place, or maybe both of them combined. Now, with your vision becoming clearer and recognizing your limbs, you run forward to the blue fire.

It sparkled again, getting you to run quicker than each step that you took. You don't know if you're flying or walking on air, but it doesn't matter when the possible reason of life appeared right in front of you so easily. You're a human, and you took it upon to relieve that greed that felt like an itch in the knee like all human does.

When the fire got closer, it got bigger. The more you approached it, the more it felt like it was getting closer to you, like it was trying to find another fuel to consume and make itself brighter than ever.

And you want to be that fuel.

The fire touched your fingertip, coursing itself through you as it expands to your body more. Now you're covered in fire. You were shocked to see that you absorbed the fire so easily like you were an oil- it drizzled brightly through your body that formed when chasing the blue fire. Warm again- you thought, now feeling the coldness that bothers you escaped as soon as the fire wrapped yourself.

You didn't noticed the way another light was approaching you- like a car was coming at you in full approach while you stood out in a road, stiff in response. You couldn't differentiate the light coming from the fire or from the unknown side, both blinded your vision when you regained it just briefly. 

What you expected was a white and bland ceiling- a familiar thing that you always notice when it comes to working as an apprentice in medical practice during your years of study before becoming an official doctor. However, a wood ceiling greeted you with the welcoming sun ray snuggling its way to your eye, waking you up and blinding you the second time.

You lay there for just a minute, letting the sun burned your awakened eye as you stared at the ceiling, thinking. You weren't in a hospital, that was a matter of fact. You were in somewhere, a cabin you supposed, seething in gentle warm from both the comfy blanket that covered your body and the sun ray- that you just realized now as you moved your head away from the sun and sat up.

The migraine start to expand in your head, a pumping beat that forced you to get into reality. While doing so, your vision that was once blurry started to adjust to the view that you perceive as of right now.

There wasn't anyone who kept you company- not like you were an attached loner or something, but with the way how you remembered that you went into a presumed coma from an explosion during a thick and heavy road filled with ringing cars, you would imagine that some medical machine would be available beside you. A ventilator, IV lines, ICP monitor, anything that kept a coma patient in a neutral state. 

But no- everything is normal, like you just woke up from a deep sleep in a cozy coffee shop that has no gossips from young teenagers. The pondering began to rise as you keep making more scenario on how you get here, but you shake it off from your head when you realize it was not the time to think throughly.

You rid yourself from the comfy blanket despite the comforting cotton that covered you, seeing your lap like it was the first time. You see the bits of how you dressed, wearing a black pants that follows a top that has the structure of an empire-waisted style with bishop puffed sleeve with long, buttoned cuffs. It felt traditional- you think, as you sat up from the bed. 

Where you were, is what the main point of your finding.

Although it wasn't long before a foot sounding step approaching you, appearing a figure that you aren't quite familiar with. "You shouldn't stand up just yet, dear!" the appearing woman gasp, walking to you with her back hand on top of your head. A 43 year old woman, you assumed, with a garment style that popularized in the 1820s- a puffed dress with the sleeve at the shoulder to the arm.

"I'm quite fine, ma'am." You whispered out but not pulling out from the woman's warm touch. You were feeling dizzy but it wasn't something that you aren't intrusive of. The woman said otherwise, "non-sensical! You passed out on the street so suddenly! I thought for sure that you had overworked yourself", while being dazed at your form. You, however, felt off from the woman words.

Passed out? You'll be damned on seeing pigs fly first for you to trust that so easily. You were in the middle of an explosion, hell you were in a city road in the going of- which ever you were going. So many options but you can't remember which one is the right one. "You really need to take it easy on your study," said the woman with your name. 

Okay so where's the flying pigs even?

The name caught you off guard- not like it was a niche celebrity name that perform underground and puke at the floor while singing an off beat song that forever will have your vengeance on fire. It was your own name. The name that your mother gave to you when you came out from the womb. 

How is that possible, you think, not getting any answer for other since you ask it all in your head. You would look like a person who lost their mind due to a strict study that you've been setting in for years. Though, from the woman's point of view, she already knew what you were thinking already, saying your name in a disappointed tone, "- a quick learner, and yet you exhaust yourself with another advance materials." 

Oh that's you alright.

"I'm- sorry?" your answer unsure along with unanswered question that filled your mind, not knowing how such a stranger could know you so easily when you don't know them that much. Were you in a state of amnesia? Have you gone mad that doctors from the city decided to throw you into an unknown village and change you as one? There wasn't any possible scenario that fit here, and it bothers you a lot.

The woman sighs, "dear- you need to be aware of the danger. You never know how much of thief running around and trying to steal your wealth already", now mantled in sweet words, the woman threw you a little leather bag, clinking on the mattress bed you sat on previously. You mutter, "this is.." "- the coins that you dropped. You should be grateful that there aren't any coins being stolen there."

Your hand grabbed at the leather bag and untied the tie, revealing a good amount of glowing coins inside, "-what was i supposed to do?" you ask, the question came out instantly that you didn't think through about it. The woman was about to say something before you changed your question, "no, what did i do before getting here?", but it sounded more stupider than the last.

She glanced at you, "you were going to the library, like you always do- had that head of yours experiencing a memory loss?", she asks, concerned filled in her tone as she hurried to a cabinet, "how foolish! Do you even remember where you live?!", from what you can make out of, she seems to be getting a bottle of medicine for you, to which you replied to her question before with a quite "maybe?".

She returned to you, bottle in hand as she opened the bottle with her thumb and put it under your nostrils, forcing you to inhale the ginger taste. That caught you off guard as you choked at the smell that already flown down to your throat immediately, the gingery taste spices your throat. "Ugh- dammit! What was that even for!?", you pulled away from the bottle as she retracted it from her hand.

"Your memories. You always told me that memory of yours sometimes lost it intact during your few visits. You said, i quoted, "that the ginger medicine i have would be best on recalling the memory that i lost", end quote." she said as you're still busy on smelling the ginger, the smell hit you so hard that tears prickled on your eyes. Whatever she was trying- it sure as hell didn't work.

"Why are you even trusting me in the first place?!" You looked up at the woman in front of you with teary eyes from the ginger effect. She shrugs, saying, "you were a brat when it comes to medicines in my clinic. You should blame yourself for that." while walking away from your glaring eyes. You groaned, now feeling confused as ever. There isn't any ounce of memory that you can recall after that smell.

"Don't forget to take your stuff back- wouldn't want you to forget it in the clinic." She throws you a slung bag, which that you aren't familiar with. "When you're done sniffing and recalling, get out." Her words, harsh, made you raised your eyebrow. If that's been raised before, it became higher that it wrinkled your forehead. 

Well- since she's so pleased about you leaving, you grabbed the slung bag that seems to be yours. When you finally stood up from the bed, your hand shot up to the drawer on the bedside, showing an oval mirror sitting on top of other stash of papers and bottles that you don't recognize. You take a look of yourself- and it's you. Your face at 29 years old.

Same old face that you didn't take time to admire in a mirror. It's the same old you, but wearing a different clothing that you never wore. It's a confusing place you're in - you were determined to find the answer. You put the mirror back into its place as your hand slipped into the slung bag that you wore now. There was barely anything inside the bag, making it light weight. Only a little book and a pen sitting alone.

You took it out. The cover is worn out and dirty, with a leather rope tied around it to keep it sealed shut. Pulling the rope off, you opened to the first page.

Your full name in the first page making you weirded out again as your finger hovered on the written text in ink. When it reached to the end of the note, you could feel like there's another hidden word on the underline word. Written in pencil and a hard letter that could left a mark behind the pages. You shook it off, thinking that it might've been something that was not worth your time.

You took off from the clinic, walking out as the breeze hit your face. Instead of the high structure that you always see when you got off from the expensive yet muddy coffee shop that was near your temporary apartment, you were greeted with a medium structure that is made with bricks along with some pile of plants decorating the house. 

There are people who dressed the same as you, something that people would wore in 1820. It's weird- of course, its beautiful to see that people had welcomed their traditional culture, but to see it everywhere, you realize that this was not your own home, or even, your own country. There were no beautiful structure of traditional homes in where you live- New York City. 

- and just where were you at this point?!

Again, you opened the book that you read before. It seems that you are a librarian- which is not true?! Was there a doppelgänger that is seeking revenge on you for living in a high-poverty life to the point that they switched your life with theirs?! More confusing scenarios started to form in your mind and it practically made you dizzy.

Well- enough dissociating, more observing! Since there's no address about your whereabouts, at least there's an idea of where you're working. Maybe going to 100 possible libraries and asking if anyone knew you would be a good idea! - if you were trying to scare of people like a walking manic, that is. 

At least someone blessed you for the town having only one available library and you can be sure that it is yours due to the last name of the library. A familiar scent of ginger guided you to this- maybe the medicine that the woman shoved to your nostril for you to smell worked, surprisingly. Opening the door, it hit a bell that jingles from your arrival.

It was cramped, but more wider than you thought it was. A lot of bookshelves in each of the side of the rectangle room, along with a desk filled with stashes of books that is botched in torn papers and spilled dry inks. You guess it was your work- or at least, the work of doppelgänger you. You barely noticed how dark it was, only the gap of the door coming from outside lightened up the desk.

There was a mirror stood on the desk, staring back at you as you take another look of yourself again. The familiar eye bags due to the amount of midnight session that you had to take along with taking extra works in the hospital, the messy and untidy hair that you didn't have time to take care of due to how many exams you have to take when you were in college, and the shape of your eye that sparks with curiosity.

You sigh again, pulling your face down with your palm in exhaustion - similar action when you have to decide a patient's unknown diagnosis. Though, exhausting isn't the word that you were looking for, more like.. troubling? 

You were near in a death experience and now you're in an unfamiliar world. An amount of questionable stranger greeted you like you were a regular who tipped them 100 American dollars in your recent economy. You worked as a librarian for some reason- an occupation that doesn't greatly make a lot of money but a fun one where you can shush a lot of people who made a lot of noises.

The thing is - now you're stuck in this library. Sure, there may be an introduction of the town you're in or some journals that you kept around for notes. But knowing yourself, you're not one to make a neat, detailed, and clean note, your consistency is bad that your signature is just a scribble. 

Thinking about it exhaust you already. Grabbing a headband to tied it on your hairline, tucking it behind your ears, you pulled the chair of the desk backward as you finally sat with a defeated sigh. Your hand brushed off the things that messed up your desk, rather it would be an ink that's soaking with a pen or papers that scattered with words.

While doing so, something fell to the floor beside you. You crouched down, taking back to what seems to be a normal stick. Reaching out, you observed it. A normal stick, yet there's a carving on it. A tiny circle on the end of the stick, in the middle stuck out a sigil with T drawing on each 30º of the circle. How familiar, you felt like you've seen this drawing before.

Your fingertips trace on the carving, feeling the empty gaps. You feel the need to fill it someway. Your eyes darting to other things in the desk, finding the ink that you eyed on before. Removing the pen that's been soaking in ink for how long, you filled the gap with the pen. As soon as you've done that, a light beam came out of the stick. A blue one.

This is the third time that the light has blinded your eye again. You wince, moving the light to another direction. Now that you've realize that this isn't something normal, you went stiff for a few moments. But you didn't let your grip off from the stick.

It wasn't something threatening, and the light doesn't seem to radiate anything involved in cancer or dangerous effect when you put it under your hand for long enough - you can't even tell though. It reminds where you are right now. Taking a look around, you noticed how the room is in a dark place. You were in a dazed state that you forgot to radiate some light into the room. Standing up from your desk, you pulled the curtain of the window to the side.

As the light entered the dark room, you are able to get a clearer look of the place. Now realizing that it seems you were the messy type before. Many papers that's filled with drawing and words scattered on the floor. If your cortisol is already high, the pipe of your cortisol might've already broken due to how high it is. But it is a no matter situation for you, cleaning it would take hours and you're already used to cleaning things to not heightened your spell more. 

Crouching down and picking up the scattered paper that you don't bother to read, you heard the bells jingles indicating that a person entered the place. Your head immediately shot up behind you, scurrying over to the opened door to hold it back from opening more. Your head pushed between the gap, looking to your front to see no figure, before looking downwards, acknowledging the kid with short red hair.  

"i'm sorry, we're not opened for the day." you said out loud, making the kid looked up at you. Now getting a good look, you felt like you've seen this kid before. He spoke your name in a gentle tone, while apologizing, "- i was just wondering if i could returned the book that i borrowed earlier." You've noticed the book he's holding. You hesitated for a few moment. You placed the stash of paper you can gather and put it on top of the sturdy chair you sat on before.

With a quick thinking, you opened the door again. "Apology, i was cleaning the room. It was a bit messy" You open the door wider, letting the boy who peeked his head into the library room. He left quickly from the place, only returning the book that he borrowed without a lot of words exchanged between you and the boy. The door closed off with you turning the sign from "open" to "close".

It's no wonder that you are able to get some sense of familiarity on the boy. His name was Tartah, if you could recall. The same name of a character from a manga you've read long time ago. Made in 2016, and you recalled the manga ended in 2040 after almost 30 years of ongoing series. 

You remembered a live action was made when the ending for season 1 came out - but yet, why is he here? 

Better to question, why is he in the flesh?

The book that you read, it sat inside the bag. You look back onto the first page and think about the general information inside that book and how the paper felt like there's another words written on the tiny book. Grabbing it like you were in a rush, you grabbed a pencil on the side and scribbled the words onto the page. However, you couldn't even make out of the words with just scribbling the page that previously has a pencil mark on it. 

You saw a tiny glimpse of a drawing on the edge of the paper that you didn't noticed. A glyph, small but you can see a sigil that has the similar placement on the stick you picked up. It was drawn in a pencil so the glyph wouldn't activate. It give you the idea to put the light on top of the book. Now - you can see the words hidden in the tiny book.

And.. Text with Creator's Style turned off