Chapter Text
There were two pairs of arms wrapped around me, uncomfortably snuggling up against me like I was some sort of teddy bear. To accompany the two sets of arms, there were two bodies on either side of me, both producing loud snores.
Ceroba and Starlo had deemed my "little tantrum" a "nightmare" that was a side effect of being, well, dead. A logical conclusion on their part. After all, their little saint apologized the grass he walked on, and wouldn't dare do any harm to anything that had even a single living cell. A saint that helped monsters back to their feet in spite of the latter's consistent attempts to flay them alive, and or manipulate in favor of their own goals. What a saintly child they were.
Oh wait. That's me.
Sorry. Was me.
Now, I was something... arguably worse than Flowey.
In a number of runs where I killed Flowey, I didn't go straight to Asgore. No, I had to go deprive more families of their lives. Because that was JUSTICE!
I punched myself in the face. The talking weed may have been a little too influential on me.
What I didn't realize, however, was the demonic fox lady who had killed me millions of times was watching me as I did this.
"Clover." Her voice was serious. Low and dangerous. Just like when she tried to take my soul on that ledge in New Home.
I sighed, and propped myself up. Ceroba did the same, monitoring me like a hawk.
"You guys really don't believe me?" I stared down at the bed sheets. Starlo's arms were limply hugging my waist.
Ceroba's gaze softened. "Clover, it was just a nightmare, alright? Stop being so hard on yourself."
I chuckled. A convenient excuse. I let myself fall back onto the bed, turned away from Ceroba again. "Whatever. I'll 'sleep it off.'"
I could feel Ceroba glare holes into my back at that last statement. I turned back towards her, and looked her dead in the eye.
"What? You gonna kill me again if I'm disrespectful?"
It was satisfying watching her recoil at the words. Just as satisfying as it was to plant bullet after bullet into the weeds stem until he crumpled up.
My thought process is too in line with the Flowey's. It's wrong. I know that it's wrong. It feels wrong, but at the same time, why does it feel right? Why do I get this sense of... relief from torturing others? I'm not better than him, am I?
I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. "I- I just-" I breathed to collect myself. "I need a moment."
I got up. Ceroba grabbed my arm. Her voice was quieter. I didn't turn to look at her face.
"Clover. Look at me."
Oh, well now she's forcing my hand.
I turned to face her, and in that moment, I saw a figure that haunted my memories.
"I hope you choke on the dust of all the monsters you've killed... Just... go to hell."
"Clover?"
It was her. The woman I must've killed millions of times by now.
"Clover?"
The woman who regardless of our differences, was nice to me. Treated me... kindly.
"Clover, are you all right?"
The fox lady that betrayed my trust in her. The one who burned off my arm. Who left me blind in one eye. Who Burnt half my face off.
"Clover, you need to breathe."
I shoved her away from me, and found myself with my back against the wall. I realized now. I was hyperventilating.
Phantom pain was ringing through me. My eyes burned. My face felt indescribable pain. The arm that I used to wield a gun in was gone.
I slid down the wall. I was gasping for air, my own saliva dripping from my mouth. I was making unintelligible noises, like a newborn child. My ears rung. My eyes clouded. I could barely make out Ceroba walking towards me, muttering something. I saw Star getting up behind her. I could make out a "Clover!" but nothing more.
Suddenly, I felt something slam into my skull. I was out like a light.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
He practically spat out the coffee he was drinking. I didn't expect it to be such a strange thing to ask.
"I'm sorry, you want me to WHAT?"
"I said I want you to teach me magic." He groaned, hand on his forehead as if he had a severe migraine.
"Kid, magic is dangerous stuff." He propped himself up in the chair to look at me. "In more ways than one."
"I want to be able to defend myself."
"Kid, do you even know how to manipulate your SOUL?"
Silence.
"Do you at least know what your SOUL trait is?"
More Silence.
"So, let me get this straight." He got up and started pacing around the room. "You just nod along if this sounds right."
I nodded.
"You want me to teach you how to use an art that is classified..." I nodded.
"Immediately makes you a target of the government and basically every country in the world because it's a rare knowledge passed down illegally..." I nodded along.
His magic was beautiful, after all. I wanted to be able to use magic just like him.
"Is equally as dangerous to the wielder as the victim..." I sighed and nodded along.
"Requires one to go through extreme trauma related to an unknown trait..." He watched me carefully. I stared at him deadpan, allowing him to continue.
"Not to mention that said trait might not even be the same as mine, rendering my teachings completely irrelevant to your own pursuit of magic."
He sat on the bed that he had tucked me into, looking me straight in the eyes. His face was fully uncovered right now. I could see his eyes in their full glory, now. I could see how his green eyes seemed to glow.
"I have yellow eyes. I think I'll have a SOUL of JUSTICE."
He placed a hand on my head, ruffling my hair. I had sort of resigned to his affection in this regard. It was kind of... comforting. Annoying, but comforting.
"Kid, my eyes are greener than the money those government officials have on my head. And I have a JUSTICE SOUL. Eye color has absolutely nothing to do with this."
"I told you my name is Clover. I'm not just a kid."
"Yeah, because a 7 year old-"
"7 and a half." I interrupted him.
"...and a half year old isn't a kid, sure, sure." He moved to get up, but I grabbed his sleeve. He sighed and sat back down.
"...I still want to learn magic from you."
He let my comment linger for a while.
"...and maybe your name."
He deflated at that one and got up again. I still had my hand on his sleeve, so he turned around and hovered over me.
"Call me... Uncle or something. Old man works too."
"I don't like to use those words to call people by. It gets me attached too easily."
"What, you used to people running out on you in your life?"
...
"Sorry 'bout that, kid."
He got up. I wasn't holding his sleeve anymore.
He was the same as my parents. The same as that orphanage director. Different, but the same. They abandoned me or discarded me when I stopped being useful.
As he prepared to leave the room for the night, he said this.
"I'd love to teach you how to defend yourself, kid. But magic is a no go. I'm not going to turn a child into one of those fu-" He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. "I'm not letting a child turn themselves into the government's favorite science project."
I heard the door close as he left the room.
"... I said my name's Clover."
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I opened my eyes to the same ceiling as earlier. Only one pair of arms was wrapped around me right now. I turned to their source, wincing at the newfound pain in my head, finding Ceroba lying there, watching me with softened eyes.
"Clover, you really need some rest. You were burning up, and you kept firing your magic at me. I had to knock you out."
Rest.
Nothing good ever came out of me resting.
"CLOVER!" My dad roared from downstairs. I was shuddering behind a corner in the dark attic, hoping he wouldn't find me. I didn't dare breathe. I was sickly, and it hurt to move. But I knew exactly what was going to happen if I stayed there.
"Why, in the fuck are those dishes not done yet?"
My heart fell. Why did those memories have to resurface? Right now? I could feel myself tearing up at the thought.
"Clover? Are you alright?"
I clutched at my head, curling up into a little ball.
His belt fell against me again and again. "I TOLD YOU THAT THOSE DISHES HAD TO BE DONE BY THE TIME I GOT HOME!"
I shook my head. "I'm fine." I looked back up at Ceroba. She was melting.
Make it stop. Please, make it stop.
I felt her gooey arms wrap around me. I squirmed to get out of them, but Ceroba held me tight. Her decaying image left her with a significantly deeper voice. "It's alright, Clover..."
I needed to get away. Anywhere but here.
Images flashed through my mind of every single time I killed Ceroba in cold blood. Each scene replayed in my mind. Each word she told me. Each curse she bestowed upon me. Her tone of voice, threatening, and promising, that I would burn.
I screamed, pushing against Ceroba with all my might. Every fibre of my body screamed alongside me, trying to get me away from her. I accidentally pushed against her face. But that hand I shoved against her with was glowing, and before I knew it, there was that same flash that occurred when Kanako's mask broke...
________________________________________________________________________________
When I came to, Ceroba was gone. I was alone on the queen-sized bed, covered up with a cold wet cloth on my forehead. I felt significantly better than before. I felt... relaxed. Something that I hadn't felt since I started seeing things around Ceroba. The hallucinations were gone, at least for now. And to some extent, I felt good that I had finally been able to get it through Ceroba's head that my "nightmares" were very much real. This strange power of mine that only comes out at the most inconvenient times just so happens to be the only power that guarantees the truth in what it was seeing.
What didn't feel good, however, was the sobbing I could hear from the next room. I could barely make out Ceroba explaining to Starlo through sobs what she had just seen, what I had just shown her.
"Clover wasn't lying, Star. I saw it. He showed me."
Starlo was trying and failing to comfort her. Classic Wild East sheriff North Star. "That could mean anything, Ceroba. So what if he showed you a couple of nightmares?"
"Star. I could feel what he felt. I could see what he saw. From the blood dripping down his shirt, to his legs being torn off by that... demon."
Oh, so we're talking about Flowey now. I was out like a light the entire time, so I don't even know what she got to see.
I sat up. Ouch.
My entire lower back was burning.
*CHECK
*Clover - ATK ?? DEF ??
*Currently experiencing extreme SOUL exhaustion.
*Their SOUL is trying to adjust to mass-produced DETERMINATION.
My eyes darted across the menu. fight or flight response? Since when? And why is this only showing up now?
20/?? HP
LV 1
Come to think about it, Flowey mentioned something about how DETERMINATION allowed oneself more control over the timeline.
I removed my soul from my chest. It was glowing brighter than ever before, even brighter than it did in my final battle with Ceroba.
*CHECK
*Clover - ATK ?? DEF ??
*Currently experiencing extreme SOUL exhaustion.
*Their SOUL is trying to adjust to mass-produced DETERMINATION.
It was saying the same thing, even when I used check directly on my SOUL.
"Hey buddy, how'd you come back from the dead?"
I froze. I could feel the chill run up my spine. That condescending, raspy tone and voice. There was only one creature in the entire world that it belonged to.
"Hey, Flowey! I missed you!" I heard a perfect imitation of my own voice, sounding bright and jumpy. As if I were greeting the weed like he was a long lost friend.
"You know, Clover, I'm surprised you didn't even bother to contact your greatest pal in the entire Underground?" Fake sobs. "I thought we were friends, Clover!"
I didn't respond. I was trying to focus on my breathing, but even as I did, I started hyperventilating.
"Clover, are you alright in there?" Ceroba's voice.
"Yeah, I'm alright. I'm just resting up, now." Flowey perfectly imitated my voice again. My mouth was covered with a vine, and my arms were pinned to my sides.
I did not like where this was going.
"Don't worry, buddy! I'm just gonna take you outside for a little chat!"
And just like that, I was no longer in the house. I was lying in the sand adjacent to the Ketsukane estate. I stared at Flowey in horror. What was he doing here? How'd he find me? How'd he know I was alive?
"Whoa, buddy! You look like you've seen a ghost!"
I sat up, my nerves protesting each movement. I gritted my teeth through it, and sat legs-crossed facing Flowey.
And there it was. A face that almost resembled one of genuine-concern.
I knew better by now. Flowey was a great actor, but anyone with experience in associating themselves with him would easily be able to pick up the holes in his facade.
My eyes traced his facial features. He was the same flower he was before. He burrowed and resurfaced closer to me. Arms reach.
"You know buddy, silence isn't a way to treat your favorite pal after-" I grabbed Flowey by the stem and started choking him with all my might, and shaking him violently. Between gasps for air (I don't know why he does it, it doesn't seem like plants require breathing) he tapped my arms with his vines, saying "I give, I give..." in a strangled voice.
I released him, since my energy had fully drained itself from simply sitting up, leaving the Flower violently coughing. Frankly, I did not have the energy to handle the Flower in a real fight. I learned that the hard way a few times.
After Flowey finished coughing, he questioned me. "What'd you do that for?"
I didn't have a good answer for that one. At least not when you consider what had happened between us over the course of this run. I did have an alternative answer, though.
"I remember the resets, Flowey."
Flowey's smile dropped. His vines retracted into the ground. He looked... scared.
"H-how much do you re-"
"All of them."
Flowey's petals drooped. He turned away from me, obviously not wanting to look me in the eye. Was he for real? Was this seriously the same Flower that tortured me for fun?
"I-" He stopped himself, trying to find his words. "I'm... sorry?"
He looked up to find me glaring at him. He recoiled and averted his gaze back to the sand.
I sighed, looking up into the roof of the underground, squinting my eyes at the massive swelterstone. I let myself fall onto my back, settling in the sand. Flowey popped up beside my face, peering down into it. I allowed my eyes to meet his.
"You're an asshole, you know that, Flowey?" He recoiled, but nodded. "And yet in spite of all this..." I paused for a moment.
"I'm more mad at myself than you."
Flowey was dumbfounded. "huh?"
I tried to tilt the hat that wasn't on my head anymore. I groaned at this realization. I don't have a hat, do I?
"Why is that?" I felt Flowey plop himself against my side. I turned to him and wrapped my arms around his stem, hugging him.
"It's as if my core values were to kill those monsters over and over again. Even though I didn't remember anything, my SOUL remembered. Each individual movement, my dodging skills, my shooting skills, even my stamina, which doesn't make sense."
Flowey gave me the most evil grin I'd ever seen. "That's because you like it, Clover."
I sighed. I hugged Flowey tighter still. "You're a piece of trash, Clover. You did it over, and over, and over again. Even when you killed me, you reset, didn't you? Not because you wanted to right your wrongs, but because you wanted to do it again."
I didn't respond.
"And even after all that, now you beat yourself up over it, like the masochist you are. It's as if you're punishing yourself. Not that I'm arguing with that, of Course! Golly, you really are stupid, aren't you?"
I smiled. Flowey looked at me with something akin to disgust. "I don't understand. Do you somehow find my words comforting?"
"...Yes, I do."
The flower left me in silence.
"It helps me to have someone tell me the way it is, ya know?" I gave Flowey a tired smile. "Nice to have someone tell me the truth, instead of treating me like a saint. They only see the boy who sacrificed themselves and their SOUL for eternal experimentation and to break the barrier. But you? You tell me what I am. I'm a freak that committed genocide over, and over, and over again, just because I got a little bored of playing around with the power of 6 human SOULs and a monster SOUL. Hell, even Asgore is perfect by comparison to me. Even though he wanted genocide of the entire human race, I went and did it for no reason at all, calling my murders justice. I'm delusional freakish sociopath who thought that murdering civilians repeatedly would bring justice in the world. And even after I ended an entire race, regardless of how many times I did it, I would always go back up to the surface, and betray everything I once stood for, killing people that I somehow managed to deem a rulebreaker for so much as glancing in my direction."
I paused after my little speech.
"I'm... trash. In fact, I'd say I'm worse than trash. The apple really can't fall far from the tree, am I right?"
Flowey wasn't even looking in my direction anymore.
"Say something, Flowey. Please. Anything."
Flowey started chuckling. Then it became full-blown laughter. I nervously laughed along with him, grasping at the strings of our relationship.
"Golly, I was gonna berate you into depression, but look at you! You've done it for me!" He was still facing away from me.
"To top it all off, another child fell down, you know? You sacrificed yourself, and now you're alive again! Your SOUL's gone, so now Asgore is gonna have to take another child's life because of you! Wow, what an idiot! imagine how much easier things could have been if you had just stayed dead!"
My heart sank. Another human child had fallen to the Underground? That would explain a couple of things, like the LOADs I've been experiencing.
Flowey turned towards me, his expression solemn. "And golly, they have more DETERMINATION than I do, in fact, more than the current you does!"
Hold on a second. What was that supposed to mean? Why'd he word it like that? "Are you implying that I have more DETERMINATION than you do?"
Flowey stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry. "Of course you do, you idiot! That royal scientist has been extracting DETERMINATION from you like no tomorrow, and your SOUL has been mass producing DETERMINATION to compensate!" He paused, thinking through his own words. "Wait, that might have something to do with how you're alive."
I shut my eyes. "So you're saying that um, who was the royal scientist?"
"Dr. Alphys."
"-Right, so you're saying that Dr. Alphys has been milking my SOUL for DETERMINATION?"
"Wow. I thought you were stupider than that!" Flowey winked at me, sticking his tongue out. Good to know he's back to being himself.
"You're not wrong. I'm just not stupid in this regard." Flowey was no longer back to being himself. He flinched, his facial expression falling. He kept up his now obviously fake smile.
"So that means that the check I did on myself earlier saying something like 'SOUL adjusting to DETERMINATION overload' means that I now have what I assume is the second most DETERMINATION in the underground."
"...yes."
I sighed at Flowey's response. "Who has the most DETERMINATION then?"
"...Chara."
I turned my head to Flowey. Chara was dead. "She's dead, though."
"Well, you're alive now! That's got to say something!"
"...Are you sure they're Chara?"
Flowey pondered for a second. "Not really. They look similar, but they don't have the same rosy cheeks. Same haircut and same taste in clothes, though."
Me and Flowey stared at each other for a few moments. And then Flowey seemed to have a look of realization. "Wait, how do you know that they're dead?"
"Let's just say that I wasn't fully unconscious when I died, and I kind of... met her. Alongside who I think to be the human you speak of."
Flowey flashed me a snarky grin. "First of all, Chara is a they, you idiot! And second of all, how'd you even meet them? Dead buddies or something?"
Chara was a 'they'? I'll have to apologize to her - them when I meet them again. Or rather, if I meet them again.
Flowey interrupted my thoughts "So what's the name of the human then, Mr. depression?"
"Frisk." I glared at Flowey. "I'm a they, you know."
Flowey looked me up and down repeatedly. "So you're telling me that you assumed Chara's gender depite-"
"I made a mental note to apologize to them when I see them again."
"-Right, 'cause you're definitely going to see a dead person again." Flowey paused. "Wait a minute, you're not stupid enough to die again, are you?"
"What's so stupid about that? It's a practical choice. One less SOUL Asgore needs to break the barrier, and one less child sacrificed."
Flowey rolled his eyes. "Says the six year old."
"Eight."
Flowey rolled his eyes yet again. "Right, that makes you so much more mature."
"I don't want to hear that from the Flower that tore me in half because he was slightly pissed off."
"And I don't want to hear that from the kid who tried to blow his own brains out because he felt bad that he murdered Mommy Ceroba, Auntie Martlet and Daddy Starlo hundreds of times."
My face was turning red, but I didn't have the strength to lash out at his snarky remark. "I have not once called them that, Flowey."
"Oh? Does the little cowboy- sorry, cowpoke want me to apologize for telling them that they see their friends as parental figures? Golly, how insensitive of me!"
"Flowey, I'm going to rip your roots out."
Flowey slapped my cheek with a vine.
"No, you're not going to do a single thing, cowpoke! You know why? Because your SOUL is exhausted from trying to accomodate for all the DETERMINATION you currently have. Golly, it's almost as much as Chara had!"
He poked at my chest with his vines, and began hitting me with green friendliness pellets. "Your stupid SOUL is acting as if it's SOUL trait is DETERMINATION instead of JUSTICE! It's like it's trying to explode! I hardly feel any JUSTICE in that SOUL of yours!"
I remained in silence at Flowey's words. He pressed on. "Clover, the paragon of JUSTICE, the one who martyrized himself by sacrificing his life and SOUL to the underground, is now here, have mixed thoughts on whether or not his actions have been justified."
"That's because they weren't."
"Oh, so you think that giving up your SOUL wasn't a good deed? You think that it wasn't righteous? You think it wasn't JUSTICE?"
"N-no, that wasn't what I meant-"
"Well, pal, let your good friend Flowey get something through that thick skull of yours." His vines grabbed my shirt and pulled me up to face him.
"Everything you did in those runs, it was me that swayed your opinion against monsters. It was I who told you to pull that trigger, over, and over, and over again. And here you are, beating yourself up over it. I'm telling you, Clover! Why can't you see, that this weed was the one who told you that monsters were cold-blooded murderers who killed children for fun? Why don't you see, that It was me that screwed with you? That made you deem it necessary to wipe them out? To commit genocide?"
I gently placed my hand on the vines he had on my shirt, my head down. "Flowey..."
"Clover, I'm the villain here, not YOU! Don't you see? I'm the asshole that dragged you down, the one who manipulated you into being a freak. I'm the one who depicted each monster as a demon that needed to be brought to justice. Why can't you see me for what I am?"
"Flowey."
"Stop hating yourself, Clover! Hate me!" Flowey started beating against my chest with his vines. "HATE ME!"
"Stop, Flowey."
Flowey was panting. "Why? Why do you still direct your- your hatred against yourself?"
"Because I let myself be manipulated. In fact, a part of me seemed to want to believe you. Now, I'm not saying that you weren't in the wrong, Flowey..." I stood up. "But in terms of the lesser evil, it seems to be you, rather than me. The difference between the two of us, Flowey, is that you RESET when things went bad. When people died that didn't deserve it. When I RESET... I did it out of guilt, realizing that all the monsters ever wanted was freedom. And out of my own selfishness, I killed them all. I damned an entire race, either by killing them all, or by taking the SOULs they needed to get out. I cursed them to kill another 7 children, if there even were any left."
Silence.
"And after learning about myself, learning what I did to... these wonderful people, these people that have done nothing wrong, I stripped them of hope. Time and time again. They relived it time and time again. No matter how many times I enacted a genocide, I was the same. In fact, I think I laughed more each time. I was enjoying myself."
More silence.
"And that's why I think I'm a freak, Flowey. And my SOUL is most certainly not pure. But if me dying again, even if I have to relive my parents beatings, the starving, the broken bones, the mental manipulation... I think that it's the least I can do to atone for what I did in those timelines."
Flowey smirked, but I could tell that there was frustration in his expression. "Well look at you. You made me feel bad. And I don't even have a SOUL to help me express my emotions."
Flowey burrowed, and reappeared further away from me. "Listen, pal. If..." Flowey stopped himself. "Who am I kidding? I can't talk this outta you."
He left the words in the air for a moment.
"Flowey-"
"Don't kill yourself... friend. If you believe sacrificing yourself is JUST, just remember that there will be people that miss you, grieve for you, and hate you for leaving them behind again.
Flowey burrowed.
I let out a sigh and laid back in the sand. My muscles no longer hurt. Flowey had healed me up so that I wouldn't be in pain. He tended to do a lot of unecessary things, didn't he?
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
"I still haven't given up on magic, Sir."
"How about you focus on the martial arts training I've been giving you, huh? I swear to god, so good at dodging, and you just won't fight back."
"Stop trying to change the subject."
"No, but seriously, kid. Why on earth don't you punch or kick? You're not always gonna have a weapon, ya know."
"Because I'll have magic to make up for it."
I heard him groan. "Why are you so intent on learning magic, kid?"
"Because you seem unstoppable."
"Kid, I've been around for-" He cut himself off. "A long time, and I've had the experience to accompany it. The people I fought against had the firepower of a small army, and durability to match. And that's not because of some simple schtick of 'ooh, magic makes you overpowered" it's because those guys have been getting their bones broken by my enemies just to bring out more trauma to amplify their powers."
"I thought you said they had to go through experiences related to their SOUL trait."
"And trauma is the easiest shit those scientists have to replicate, and conveniently the least time consuming for growing a person's powers."
"And how exactly does that work?"
"Look kid, there's seven traits, right?"
"Yeah."
"So take my trait, JUSTICE, alright? What happens when someone breaks your bone for no reason?"
"Then they're kind of... rude, right?"
"It's unfair, right?" I nodded. "So by default, it's unjust, right?"
"...yeah?"
"So you experienced a desire, to like, bring them to JUSTICE, right?"
"yeah?"
"So great. There's their core principles in a nutshell."
"But how does that play into you growing more powerful?"
"Your SOUL power is directly related to how strong, or how many times your feelings of your trait have been accentuated. In my case, I've seen a whole lot of things go to shit, and I didn't like how unfair it was. And that's why I have the power to level a city if I feel like it."
"Then why don't you get rid of the people who are after you with that power?"
He groaned again. He really didn't like explaining things. "Look, kid. This is the sorta thing that you gotta like... figure out on your own, 'aight? 'Cause shit ain't that simple. If it was, I wouldn't have a bounty greener than the SOUL of KINDNESS."
"You've started cursing a lot more since I started asking you more about magic."
"You noticed, huh? Thankfully, it's making me stronger because I think it's not just for a kid like you to be chased down by the entire world because you have a power that only one in a million people can even awaken, with only a fraction of those people being able to actually, ya know, use it. And respectfully, I think that's reason enough to not teach you it."
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The SOUL of JUSTICE, huh?
When I think about my childhood, it sort of makes sense.
I always thought about how I found it unfair that my father would beat me whenever he was drunk. Or how I would be beaten for not doing the dishes or laundry. I was practically a slave. But now that I think about it, I feel more and more delusional about myself. After all, my parents brought me into this world. It was their choice to do as they pleased with me, since they would have to deal with the consequences of raising me up. They placed high expectations upon me, and I could only fulfill a part of them. They wanted me to be valedictorian? I missed a couple of assignments, ruining my chances, despite my straight A's. They wanted me to study? I was unreasonable and thought that 6 hours of studying for kindergarten math was adequate and I could take a break and watch the cowboy movies. The list goes on.
My parents only wanted what was best for me. That's why they beat me into shape. And they felt so guilty with themselves for not being able to raise an adequate child that they committed a double suicide on my birthday, the only day they would regularly leave me alone. They left me alone in a different way, though, so I guess I can't really complain.
What came afterwards was brutal for me. From 2 meals per day to one meal per day. I wasn't strong enough to handle it. I was a bad child. I tried to steal from the kitchen all the time to feed myself and the other kids. I thought it was unfair that the orphanage director didn't spare us at least 2 meals per day. But in reality, they had spent most of their funding on their gambling in hopes of having more money to brighten our futures. They were responsible adults, right? They only wanted what was best for us. The orphanage people beat me every time I got caught. In spite of this, I started eating whatever I could find. Moss in the basement when I would be locked in their for a couple of days, just long enough to leave me parched so I couldn't talk back, packing peanuts from the few boxes that would arrive at the orphanage, and even that bitter powder that made me sleepy afterwards that was stored in the room with a couple of firearms.
I was a bad enough child to make my parents hate me, and kill themselves. I was bad enough to run away from the orphanage that housed me, clothed me, and fed me. I was bad enough to leave the only man in my life that I even saw as something close to a parental figure to die to the men in black.
I remember that day all too well. When he told me his stance on JUSTICE. When he told me to run. To get as far away from there as possible. I remember the two mages setting purple spikes around him, and slamming into him with flashes of orange. I could still hear their battle cries in the rain.
I've always hated rain. It rained on the day my parents commit double suicide. It rained on the days I was sick, and got beaten. It rained on the days that I got caught stealing, and was beaten. It rained on the day I ran from the orphanage. And it rained on the day that I was too scared to stick alongside my mentor.
And sick as I am, I never even got a name to remember him by. As stubborn as I am, I'm surprised I don't have the SOUL of DETERMINATION.
But that belonged to Chara and Frisk.
And my mentor's best friend that I never got to meet.
Why did my SOUL choose JUSTICE? Was it those cowboy movies? No. He said that SOUL traits were predetermined. So why am I, as stubborn as I am, as impatient as I am, as mean as I am, as weak as I am, as timid as I am, as one with no integrity, a JUSTICE SOUL barer?
Truly the curse of fate. Maybe fate knew that I would meet my mentor and decided to grant it to me just to spite me.
My time in the void did wonders to my power as well. Having full knowledge and first-hand experience of all the times I deemed something unfair really boosted my SOUL power. Doesn't mean that I'm not human garbage.
Flowey's words still hung on my mind. People would miss me? Sure, but I've already died once. They can probably handle it a second time. After all, I've been in their lives for like, a day. Nobody changes in that small span of time. I'm not worth that much, after all. I'm not deserving of the care they're providing to me, caring for me as if I were Kanako...
That's it. I'm Kanako's replacement.
That's why they're taking care of me.
I stood up and dusted myself off. I walked around to find a monster standing at the door, donning a large suit of armor and a helmet. Ceroba was glaring into their eyes with nervousness, as well as a stubbornness I've only seen in Frisk.
"I told you, there's no human here. What sort of sick joke is this, telling me that the child that I cried for, cared for, and would've died for is now alive? I brought their SOUL to Asgore 12 years ago!"
She was panicking. Her acting was reasonably good, though.
"Listen here, punk. I already had to deal with one human today. I let them off with a warning, alright? I'm told by Asgore that some child is alive, and the JUSTICE SOUL is missing, and that you're one of the only monsters in the kingdom that have ever associated with them. So let me inspect your DAMN HOUSE."
"No. Leave, Undyne. There's nobody here."
I walked around, going up behind Undyne. Ceroba's eyes widened. She was mouthing something angrily at me, probably an attempt to tell me to get inside, some form of plea, anyway.
"I'm telling you, just let me IN! IT WONT EVEN TAKE THAT LONG, DAMN IT!"
I tapped her on the hip. It was the highest I could reach, anyway. Ceroba muttered something under her breath, and summoned her staff and moved to try and knock Undyne out.
Needless to say, it didn't work. Undyne took the hit with no noticeable damage and immediately responded with a punch to Ceroba's gut.
"WHAT'D YOU DO THAT FOR?!?!?" Undyne screamed at Ceroba, summoning a couple of magical spears that she immediately fired at Ceroba.
Ceroba tried to conjure her barrier magic, but she was nailed by the barrage nonetheless.
"I think I need to teach you a lesson, old lady!" Undyne received a weak glare from Ceroba, who collapsed to the floor.
"Phew. Anyway, who are you?" Undyne turned to look at me. "Wait. You look like a human!"
I remained in silence. My eyes were glued to Ceroba's body.
"Hey punk. You gonna say something?" Undyne had grabbed my shirt now. I wasn't looking at her. I was still looking at Ceroba, lying there, injured, with weak breathing.
"You almost killed her."
"What? She'll be fine. I made sure to do just enough to knock her out, so-"
"You almost killed her."
"What? She'll sleep it off. Some food will do her some good." Undyne stood back up to her full height and looked back at her handiwork, before turning back to me. "Welp, you're coming with me, human-"
I interrupted her by blasting her in her in the face.