kono bangumi wa goran no suponsaa no teikyou de okurishimasu:
the raven's cycle au
canon atypical supernatural stuff, violence, second pov 805 words.
You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen the floor on your room. Privately, you’re glad that no one has barged in for an impromptu gaming night. Even when you’re awake, you’re having trouble coming up with an excuse for last year’s Koshien trophy, the multiple jars of differently scented hand cream, the multitude of packaged candy that you’ve always wanted to try as a kid, a few wooden baseball bats, several baseball shirts that are three sizes too big, an impressive assortment of prescription glasses that all work, and the twenty or so brand new catcher mitts that haven’t been broken in.
But half of the stuff is knocked around as the ghoulish nightmare that forced its way out of your dreams thrashes around. In your right hand is a fire axe which is neither the size nor the weapon that you hoped for, but it’s better than nothing. Your left hand is covered by a catcher mitt, which you’re using as a makeshift shield against the nightmare’s talons that are threatening to rip you into shreds.
You thwack the mitt against an extended arm and shift your weight to bring the axe down on the arm (or at least, you’re assuming that it’s an arm). The nightmare screeches and great, you know you only have a few moments to clean this up, clean up everything else, and then dream up a video game or something to reproduce the screech, before someone barges in.
There’s no way you can get out of this. You can’t handle this. This is overwhelming. Not just being catcher, cleanup, and captain in the morning, but also having to deal with your dreams getting out of hand at night. How you’re going to deal with the questions and the rumors as soon as this gets out.
You suddenly feel incredibly sluggish. Let it all just end.
Your door bursts open just as the nightmare rears up to tear at you. It happens very fast; the door slams shut almost as soon as someone tackles you out of the way. The two of you fall onto several glasses, breaking them all. Your axe fell out of your grasp and managed to somehow worm its way towards the wall that’s completely blocked off by the nightmare. Your glasses are also crooked and you can barely make out what’s going on and who’s in your room.
The person who slammed into you gets up and shouts something loud and alright, that’s Sawamura. You take the time to fix your glasses. That’s definitely Sawamura.
The nightmare is laser-focused and ready to go through anything to get to you. That anything being a loud mouthed pitcher who’s yelling idle threats and waving his spread arms frantically. “Idiot!” You hiss, or yell, or whatever, as you stand up on your broken eyewear, the sound of crunching glass under your feet.
“That could rip one of your arms off, stop, just,” you watch as Sawamura practically pitches a handful of shattered glass at the nightmare, aiming for what you assume to be the eyes. Sawamura’s hand is bleeding profusely.
Some shards hit their intended target, others embed themselves in various locations on the nightmare’s body, which is now taking on a more precise form of a four legged crow, and the rest just fall harmlessly to the floor. The nightmare crow tilts its head back, screeches again, and you’re not one to pass up an opportunity once you see it.
You sprint over to where the wooden bats are, picking one up for yourself. The crow is flapping over to you, comedically banging its head against the ceiling and giving Sawamura the opportunity to grab the fire axe if he wished. Swinging your bat just like in baseball, you slam the neck.
It breaks upon impact and there’s another cry, this time far more human as Sawamura attacks one wing at the joint with the fire axe. The two of you begin to viciously attack the nightmare from the front and the back. This continues for quite some time until the nightmare falls to the ground with a resounding thud, immobile except for its last few shuddering breaths. Then, it begins to disintegrate into wispy black smoke. Likewise, the adrenaline in your body begins to dissipate.
Sawamura locks eyes with you and the two of you just stare at each other. Something easily labeled as anxiety begins to well up in your throat, you can feel your stomach doing rolls and you have no excuses for anything that happened.
Takishima opens the door and the tension breaks as you whip your head to stare at her. There’s a beat, then you shrug your shoulders and force a smile. “This,” you gesture to the mess that your room is in, “is why I can’t have a roommate.”
FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, M
kono bangumi wa goran no suponsaa no teikyou de okurishimasu:
the raven's cycle au
canon atypical supernatural stuff, violence, second pov
805 words.
You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen the floor on your room. Privately, you’re glad that no one has barged in for an impromptu gaming night. Even when you’re awake, you’re having trouble coming up with an excuse for last year’s Koshien trophy, the multiple jars of differently scented hand cream, the multitude of packaged candy that you’ve always wanted to try as a kid, a few wooden baseball bats, several baseball shirts that are three sizes too big, an impressive assortment of prescription glasses that all work, and the twenty or so brand new catcher mitts that haven’t been broken in.
But half of the stuff is knocked around as the ghoulish nightmare that forced its way out of your dreams thrashes around. In your right hand is a fire axe which is neither the size nor the weapon that you hoped for, but it’s better than nothing. Your left hand is covered by a catcher mitt, which you’re using as a makeshift shield against the nightmare’s talons that are threatening to rip you into shreds.
You thwack the mitt against an extended arm and shift your weight to bring the axe down on the arm (or at least, you’re assuming that it’s an arm). The nightmare screeches and great, you know you only have a few moments to clean this up, clean up everything else, and then dream up a video game or something to reproduce the screech, before someone barges in.
There’s no way you can get out of this. You can’t handle this. This is overwhelming. Not just being catcher, cleanup, and captain in the morning, but also having to deal with your dreams getting out of hand at night. How you’re going to deal with the questions and the rumors as soon as this gets out.
You suddenly feel incredibly sluggish. Let it all just end.
Your door bursts open just as the nightmare rears up to tear at you. It happens very fast; the door slams shut almost as soon as someone tackles you out of the way. The two of you fall onto several glasses, breaking them all. Your axe fell out of your grasp and managed to somehow worm its way towards the wall that’s completely blocked off by the nightmare. Your glasses are also crooked and you can barely make out what’s going on and who’s in your room.
The person who slammed into you gets up and shouts something loud and alright, that’s Sawamura. You take the time to fix your glasses. That’s definitely Sawamura.
The nightmare is laser-focused and ready to go through anything to get to you. That anything being a loud mouthed pitcher who’s yelling idle threats and waving his spread arms frantically. “Idiot!” You hiss, or yell, or whatever, as you stand up on your broken eyewear, the sound of crunching glass under your feet.
“That could rip one of your arms off, stop, just,” you watch as Sawamura practically pitches a handful of shattered glass at the nightmare, aiming for what you assume to be the eyes. Sawamura’s hand is bleeding profusely.
Some shards hit their intended target, others embed themselves in various locations on the nightmare’s body, which is now taking on a more precise form of a four legged crow, and the rest just fall harmlessly to the floor. The nightmare crow tilts its head back, screeches again, and you’re not one to pass up an opportunity once you see it.
You sprint over to where the wooden bats are, picking one up for yourself. The crow is flapping over to you, comedically banging its head against the ceiling and giving Sawamura the opportunity to grab the fire axe if he wished. Swinging your bat just like in baseball, you slam the neck.
It breaks upon impact and there’s another cry, this time far more human as Sawamura attacks one wing at the joint with the fire axe. The two of you begin to viciously attack the nightmare from the front and the back. This continues for quite some time until the nightmare falls to the ground with a resounding thud, immobile except for its last few shuddering breaths. Then, it begins to disintegrate into wispy black smoke. Likewise, the adrenaline in your body begins to dissipate.
Sawamura locks eyes with you and the two of you just stare at each other. Something easily labeled as anxiety begins to well up in your throat, you can feel your stomach doing rolls and you have no excuses for anything that happened.
Takishima opens the door and the tension breaks as you whip your head to stare at her. There’s a beat, then you shrug your shoulders and force a smile. “This,” you gesture to the mess that your room is in, “is why I can’t have a roommate.”