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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/SteelTrim on 2025-12-17 02:49:27+00:00.
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John's jaw set as he stared down the crowd, no longer offering them any sort of warmth, even as they shivered. Yuki had spent the last few minutes going from building to building, occasionally casting a concerned glance over to him, which he pretended not to notice as he redoubled his guard duties. Occasionally, he made sure to cast a glance toward the entrance to see if whoever had left earlier had come back, but there was no luck.
This duty ill-suited him, he felt, as it gave him too much time to think. All this time, he found out why, and to think that the reason he had been put into exile was so fucking petty…
He wondered if he should laugh or cry as he wiped his eyes clear.
A small part of him boiled and bubbled vehemently, calling for blood, but he could never justify letting it free, even if doing so wouldn't call down far too many Unbound on their heads to be comfortable.
A much, much larger part couldn't help but think about how much better life could have gone if only he had been given a chance. He had no desire to be a god-king, to rewrite society around him like some kind of egotist. Nor did he desire to be the richest in the land. No, he wagered he would have been happy doing much the same he was now, just amongst society for the purpose of improving life for everyone.
He settled for stewing in his emotions, letting them wash over him and losing himself in the flow, the world almost seeming to fade away around him, only snapping back into focus when one of his captives moved a little too much; a quick glare was enough to keep them in line. It wasn't as if they were trying to run, anyhow.
John muttered to himself, crossing his arms as he fell into thought. He couldn't take revenge. Could he?
He didn't have the stomach to seriously hurt them, that was for sure, but could he do something else? Years of petty pranks from before this world passed through his mind as he thought over the arsenal he had hoarded. A tool is a tool, after all.
A faint smile flickered onto his face. The priests seemed pretty well cowed, and that might buy him time for a quick talk with Yuki.
He dug around in his pocket and palmed a focus before faking a cough, subtly swapping it into the gauntlet as he turned away from the group. "Right, I don't want you all to freeze to death, and I don't want to keep having to heat you, so I'm going to get you all some clothes," John said, glaring at them. "I don't want you lot to run off, though, or do something you might regret, so…" Huh. Now that he thought of it, this was the second time he had to find clothes for captives. He hoped it didn't become a theme for him, even if he didn't care as much if these fucks got a cold or two.
A giant green drill materialized at the tip of his finger, to the shouted horror of everyone else there. Really, it was like he kicked a wasp nest as they moved about, but refused to actually try to flee. Thankfully for them, all John did was put the tip to the ground, churning up rock and dirt as he effortlessly carved a divot into the ground. Then, he pulled a magic detector out of his bag and put it down twenty feet away, pointing it toward the mass, but not before whispering something to it.
"So, you've probably figured out by now that I'm not a big fan of killing when it's not necessary," John said, eyeing them up as they went dead silent. "So I'm not going to do that. This is something I made from the eye of a demon, and if you step out of this circle without my permission, it's going to curse you. You'll have no control over your bowels for the next ten years. Oh! It's not the most accurate, though. It might hit a few of you trying to get the escapee. Make extra sure that you don't try to leave through the back, because the curse will go through multiple people to get the leaver," he lied shamelessly.
They all went ghostly pale as John stretched before walking toward the building with Yuki, trying to hide the shiver that tore through him the second he made the mistake of turning his back on those priests.
Yet, nothing happened. John's hunters stayed cowed by a mixture of self-preservation and peer pressure. Perhaps some of them would be willing to take the risk, but would their neighbours let them? There was a good ten feet before the edge of the circle he had carved, so the priests would see anyone going for it far beforehand, and he did not doubt that most of them were unprepared to risk getting hit for their neighbour's bravery.
Making his way over, John knocked on the door of the building Yuki was currently in before realizing that there was zero point and just slid the door open.
The first thing that struck him upon opening the door was a thick, heavy scent of some sort of perfume, the dense floral aroma overpowering his nose and making his eyes water. He must have been allergic.
The entire room gleamed with wealth. The stand over the fire at its core was heavily ornamented steel, trimmed in gold. Surrounding it were rich crimson cushions, embroidered with gold thread, forming a comfortable seating area that kept the fall chill well and truly at bay. On one side was a small kitchenette and full storage racks of foodstuffs, which were made of a deep, dark wood that he didn't recognize, almost certainly imported from afar.
Lovingly painted murals covered the paper walls, showcasing a mural of a city, something that he knew couldn't have come cheap. Even the paint alone would be out of the price range of most, without even counting the cost to get an experienced artist in.
Even the vase in the corner was opulent, with rich veins of gold filling the cracks between deep black ceramic; the kintsugi work was positively striking.
Hell, the cheapest thing here was probably the lantern hanging above, and even he wasn't sure if the metal bits he could see were steel or silver.
All of this, and people still starved.
Fresh anger threatened to flood his veins again, but he calmed himself with a few shaking breaths.
"Yuki?" John finally asked. "Are you in here?"
A door slid open, revealing an equally opulent bedroom, as the kitsune walked through and quickly slid it shut behind her. "John, are you okay?" she asked, hurrying over to him moments later. The towering kitsune was close—perhaps too close—and well within his personal bubble as she started to fret over him, carefully scanning him for anything wrong, even brushing off a bit of mud that had somehow gotten onto his shoulder. "I heard everything."
Whatever the reason, this time, he didn't feel the need to step back, even as she loomed over him like a monolith.
The words struggled to form, but eventually he managed to breathe out, "Why did I have to stay out there with them?"
A gentle frown edged onto Yuki's muzzle as she rested a hand on one of his shoulders, rubbing in soft, soothing circles over tense muscles. "I'm sorry, John. I thought the risk of you wandering into a room and seeing someone in full formal garb, ready to fight, was too great to take. I should have known better and figured out something better, or at least bound and gagged them."
He choked back something ugly before clearing his throat. "It probably wouldn't have stopped me. To have answers so close after so long would be too much to resist…" he hesitantly admitted, swallowing harshly.
Silence loomed over them, something that Yuki let sit as he collected his thoughts, but even then, he was stewing in his own mind. His hands shook, despite his attempts to still them. Tears stung the edge of his eyes.
Still, there was clarity, even as his head started to hurt.
"Should the fact that it was something so simple make it worse? All these years, there wasn't even… I—Things could have been different. They did all that, I spent so long all alone, and there wasn't even a fucking point to any of it!" At first, he was muttering. When did he get so loud? Why did he hear his own blood rushing in his ears? "If there was some grand, evil plan, I'd get it! I'd hate it, but at least it'd be something! But no, some gormless bastard pissants wanted to look good so they could buy more pointless bullshit while the people they say they serve starve!"
A single finger lifted his chin, pointing his green eyes to meet her vibrant gold. She was gentle, and he didn't resist. He could almost swear he saw a faint glimmer in the edge of her eyes, too. "John. Please, look at me. You're right. It isn't fair, and you've been very kind in your dealings with them. I need you to take a moment for yourself."
"I can't. We're not safe here," John stated.
"And you'll be even less safe if you're tearing yourself up inside rather than focusing. I'm not asking you to let it all out, but just to take the time to breathe. The priests outside are subdued, and I'll hear if they try anything. The only one left uncoralled is three buildings over and hiding under a bed. The Nameless can't approach this place. If anyone else shows up, I will sense them before they get close. John, please allow yourself to rest, just for a moment," she begged, throwing her arms wide, a razor-thin, fragile smile on her face. "If not for you, I'd like you to do it for me, please?"
What…was this? Surely...
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