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Nier wrung the blood from his hands to join the rest soaking the ground—the final remnant left of over a dozen shades.
"These shades are damn annoying, but they get one thing right," Nier struck up casually as a rivulet snaked down his cheek, “they don’t leave their bodies behind.”
“You do have a point,” Weiss replied as he finished drawing the shadesblood into his pages, removing the last traces of their existence, “the volume of bloated, diseased corpses strewn around would carpet the whole plains otherwise.”
“Maybe we should work on a spell that makes bodies disappear from a battlefield once a fight is over. Might make us rich,” Nier mused as the clearing became pristine, almost as if the slaughter had never occurred. “You know. After.”
After…
“Ah, yes, right next to the non-lethal Dark Teleportation spell, mmmmm?” Weiss teased.
“Yeah, yeah, alright…” Nier laughed; joyless.
Weiss’ laugh matched his—perfect harmony.
The sound was the only thing echoing round the eastern road’s ravines. No birdsong, no wind, only unease amidst calm.
Nier turned to clean his weapon, but the blood that had streaked it seemed to have vanished inside. The lion's head on the blade had turned its stern snarl to an eager grin.
Nier shook his head. The shape hadn't changed.
He was seeing things.
"Let's go home, I'm worried about Yonah."
The village welcomed them with open arms, the gates flung wide as usual. On the path through the valley, the passerby villagers gave their best wishes to Weiss, to Nier, to Yonah, and to the quest.
Before they could arrive on their doorstep, a blur of white flitted from the window and burst through the door.
“Dad!” Yonah cried, her voice unable to match her heart, and ran toward him.
“Whoa!” Nier lunged forward, catching her.
She flung herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She coughed before snuggling under his chin, holding him as if he might disappear.
Just like those… just like a—
“You’re back!”
Nier held her tight.
Her coughs turned into a coughing fit, and he rushed her inside, setting her down so she could stabilize. He waited until the fit passed, his hand gently rested on her shoulder; every convulsion echoing through to him.
Yonah's coughs calmed, and Nier’s focus expanded again. The familiar scent of home filled the air, but was accompanied by a peculiar stench… a stench that smelled like… Yonah’s Home Cooking.
Had she strained herself?
"Looks like you’ve been working hard. You need to be careful, Yon–”
“I’m fine, dad!” she protested, cutting him off, unlike her. “Besides, Popola helped me. I was fine."
“Alright, just…” he relented with an exhale, “what’d you make?”
“A surprise!” She forced a smile though the pain. "It's a stew. But you'll have to guess what's in it. And since I know Weissey can eat, I made him some too!”
“Ah, thank you…?” Weiss said.
Nier’s eyes twinkled with an odd sort of… glee. “You won’t miss out now, Weiss. That’s great.”
“Oh, joy !”
Nier gave him a pointed scowl.
“I meant that, fool!” Weiss ruffled his pages.
Yonah giggled, finding it amusing. She already had a bowl of stew in her hands, presenting it with utmost pride. Two portions were ready on the table, and this time, the broth was only a little bluish!
Once everyone had gotten settled in, Nier decided to venture a bite, hoping he wouldn’t wince with her full attention on him. But to his surprise… it was actually… pretty good?
Or maybe Nier was getting used to it.
“So, did you find anything special today?” Yonah couldn’t contain her curiosity, “you gotta tell me everything!”
“Of course,” Nier obliged and launched into a tale.
He told her a story, free of the bloodshed and pain—a story about two friends embarking on a grand journey together.
It was a fairytale.
“But, everyone said you fought a bunch of shades,” Yonah questioned.
“Indeed we did,” Weiss couldn’t help himself, “we destroyed an entire coven. Fourteen, precisely.”
“Fourteen!?” Excitement shone in Yonah’s eyes as she listened to Weiss describe the brutal justice. Nier’s stomach turned.
The stench of shadesflesh hit him.
Weiss’ tale wasn’t graphic. No, that wasn’t the issue.
It was… beautiful .
A fairytale...
Nier tried to take another bite, but as he chewed through the chunks of meat and vegetable, the slurry of textures shimmered like the coiling of putrid dark, bursting blood vessels of gold and bl—
Nier put the bowl down.
It was just stew.
And yet… the aftertaste was… iron .
Weiss could see the panic in Nier’s eyes. “HOWEVER! Such combat is not particularly glorious work. It is simply what must be done,” he cleared his ‘throat’, sheepish.
“Oh, OK.” Yonah shrugged, blissfully unaware of the shift. “Everyone was acting like you were heroes. That’s all.”
Heroes…
“The food was great, Yonah.” Nier felt such guilt for allowing a phantom to ruin his appetite. “But I think it’s time for bed.”
Yonah protested, “but…!”
“You have to get your rest,” Nier said as he helped her out of her chair.
“Thank you for the meal, Miss Yonah,” Weiss said in parting before he started a remarkably humble task for one of his “grandeur”: cleaning up .
Once upstairs, Nier assisted Yonah into the bed, serving as a handhold. He pulled the cover over her as she wriggled in and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
He smoothed the blanket around her, blood smearing on the bedding, streaking shades of rose.
Nier froze.
No such thing had happened.
His mind…
After a moment, Yonah took his hand, and he tensed at the softness. She kissed him on the cheek, the motion effortless. Something jagged lodged in Nier’s heart, but he smiled until the sensation dulled.
“Goodnight, dad!”
“Goodnight, Yonah…”
Nier staggered down the stairs and collapsed into a chair, leaning into the table. He wished Weiss hadn't disappeared. The Grimoire’s endless drone would do well to drown out the ghostly cries and whispers on the edge of his ears.
Nier slumped over onto the table, laying his head down, arms outstretched, every breath struggling…
Didn’t want to think, didn’t want to breathe, didn’t want to imagine things …
A darkness crept over his hand, pitch over pale, and his chest tightened at the sensation. But as he looked up at it, he realized this was not another apparition, this… was a Dark Hand… holding his hand.
Nier’s eyes followed the stream of magic to its source. His stupid expression made Weiss balk, the magic shimmering away.
“E-excuse me, I was simply, er, parroting a human tradition!” Weiss’ erratic movements betrayed his nerves. “I apologize if it’s overmuch. I assumed it was a… calming gesture between your kind? Nothing more or less. That was perhaps tactless, and—ah—”
Nier could breathe again.
He didn’t mention the dreams where his own hands turned to dark clots of blood magic, nails streaming with ruby, nor dreams where blood's taste was sweet as water on a hot day.
No.
Nier simply laid his head back down on the table. He didn’t have it in him to talk or think. But he could do this .
Without even looking, Nier reached out with his hand and held it outstretched… until a darkness, clumsy and cautious, laced claw with finger.