Chapter Text
Sawatari flopped like a sack of potatoes in Gongenzaka’s arms as he shoved his way into the next tent. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been going, but damn this! How long until he found another one of his comrades?
He didn’t want to think about if they might not be safe or not. Growling softly, he headed across the tent towards the next flap.
His steps hitched at the sound of the voice behind him.
“Gongenzaka,” the Ringmaster called. “Gongenzaka, please. I need you to come back. I need the Actor.”
Gongenzaka huffed and didn’t look back, shoving forward into the next tent. The voice of the Ringmaster followed him, as though the Ringmaster were at the exact same distance behind him.
“Won’t you listen ?” the Ringmaster said, voice cracking.
“If you think the man Gongenzaka is going to listen to you after what you’ve done, you are quite mistaken,” Gongenzaka said.
He skidded to a stop, however, when the Ringmaster appeared suddenly in front of the next tent flap. He backed up, putting a protective hand over Sawatari. The Ringmaster hesitated, and did not try to advance.
“I’m sorry,” they said, in a small voice, and Gongenzaka was so thrown off that he almost let Sawatari slip out of his grip.
“You’re what? ” Gongenzaka said.
“I’m sorry ,” the Ringmaster said. “I was wrong, and you were right. I said such awful things to you, Gongenzaka. But you only wanted to protect everyone, and I told you that that was wrong. I’m sorry.”
Gongenzaka did not like this. He didn’t like this one bit. He backed up a bit more, eying the Ringmaster with suspicion.
“I understand, you know,” the Ringmaster said. “I want...I wanted to protect them all too, even if they didn’t want to be protected. And you, you’re the same, aren’t you? You always want to protect your friends. You’re noble, Gongenzaka. It’s what I’ve always admired about you.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Gongenzaka grumbled. “You’ve already caused pain to Sawatari, and I’m sure to the others.”
“I know, I know.”
The Ringmaster lifted their hands off of their cane to wring their hands, and the cane stood perfectly upright, as though held in place by some invisible string.
“But you’re such a noble person, Gongenzaka. Can’t you find it in yourself to forgive me?”
“Forgiveness comes only when wrongs have been righted,” Gongenzaka said. “And as far as I, the man Gongenzaka, can see, we are still all trapped here in this nightmare circus.”
The Ringmaster put their hand back onto their cane, and tucked it beneath their arm. They took a small step forward. Gongenzaka would not be intimidated. He stood firm, glaring the smaller figure down.
“Please, listen,” the Ringmaster said. “I only want to protect them. Just like you. And I need you, Gongenzaka. I need you to help me protect all of them.”
“What you are doing is not protection. It is hurtful,” Gongenzaka said.
The Ringmaster came closer again, suddenly only a few feet away.
“What could convince you?” the Ringmaster mumbled. “Please, Gongenzaka. I need the Actor to help me with something, to help finish this show. They all need you too, you know. All of your friends need you to help protect them.”
“You are ridiculous,” Gongenzaka said, drawing himself up to his considerable height. “Do you think that for a single moment that I, the man Gongenzaka, will believe this act of yours?”
The Ringmaster’s bottom lip trembled as though they were about to cry. Gongenzaka almost snorted. How ridiculous! Did they think this act was going to work on him, after what they had already done?
“I suppose you don’t care what happens to Yuya, then,” the Ringmaster said softly, voice suddenly soft and dangerous.
Gongenzaka was so taken aback by this latest shift in mood that he took one step backwards, glaring down at the Ringmaster.
“Are you threatening me?” Gongenzaka said.
“No,” said the Ringmaster. “Only that...if you don’t join my show with the others...I’m afraid that something bad might happen. If you’re so afraid of what I can do to them, then...you ought to want to protect them all, don’t you?”
“I will protect them from you,” Gongenzaka said. “If this is your new tactic to change my mind towards you, you must know that it is not going to —”
His words cut off when he heard the ceiling make an awful creaking sound. He looked up — just in time to see the ceiling crashing down towards him.
The Ringmaster was in his way of the other tent flap. The one behind him was too far away to get to in time. With a roar, Gongenzaka dropped Sawatari to the ground, threw his hands up, and caught the ceiling.
The weight crushed down onto him all at once, but his legs did not bend. His whole body shook but the ceiling stayed where it was, held up by his hands, braced against the ground. Sawatari lay on the ground at his feet, quiet and unmoving, completely unconscious.
In front of him, the Ringmaster watched with a tilted head, just short enough to fit beneath the section that Gongenzaka was holding up, completely unperturbed by Gongenzaka’s shaking body as he tried to hold the whole ceiling. It was getting heavier, he thought, and he groaned as his knee almost bent, but he spread his stance a little more and pressed harder into the ceiling. The rough stone edges of the surface dug into his palms, and with another cry, it dropped another few inches. He had to let it down against his shoulders, bracing it with his whole body and his neck leaned down.
“Welcome to the Strongman Show, Gongenzaka,” the Ringmaster said with a soft smile. “Will you be able to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders for long?”
Gongenzaka swore. Sweat was already poring down his face, his body shaking beyond belief. It was only his training that kept him on his feet, his knees unbent, as strong as an oak. He would not...let it fall...if he let it fall...Sawatari would...
“You take everyone’s burdens on yourself,” the Ringmaster said softly, reaching out to brush some of Gongenzaka’s sweaty bangs from his forehead. “But that gets tiring, doesn’t it?”
“Be...quiet...” Gongenzaka growled, but that was too much effort. The ceiling shifted again and one of his knees just about gave out. He cried out, dropping to a single knee, still holding the heavy surface against his shoulders which were starting to feel like they were going to break.
The Ringmaster simply sat cross legged in front of him now, so that they could still fit beneath the ceiling.
“All I want to do is take that weight off of you,” the Ringmaster said. “It’s too hard, isn’t it? Trying to protect everyone by yourself. If you keep that up...Sawatari will get hurt.”
“Be quiet!” Gongenzaka roared through the pain. “I will not...I will not...”
The Ringmaster smiled, tilted their head against their hand.
“Here’s a fun secret,” they said. “In this Strongman Attraction...if you let go of the ceiling here, the ceilings in all of the rooms will fall. I wonder how many people would be hurt like that, hm?”
Gongenzaka could barely breathe. His lungs were on fire.
“But you don’t have to shoulder all that burden. Let me help, Gongenzaka. Let your friends give you a hand.”
“You...are...not...my...friend,” Gongenzaka gasped.
“But I could be, Gongenzaka. Is your pride as one who protects too strong that you won’t accept a hand that’s offered you?”
“You...are the reason...this is...happening!” Gongenzaka gasped. But he was weakening. The sweat was making his grip slick. He felt the ceiling groan, and his body began to bend over.
A cool, gentle hand cupped his face.
“It’s all right,” the Ringmaster soothed. “Just listen. You can tell I don’t want to hurt them, don’t you? I want to protect them all as much as you do...perhaps even more. I’ll help you, if only you ask?”
Gongenzaka let out another cry of pain, his body keeling over. Sawatari’s limp body laid right beside him. He was so silent and quiet. If Gongenzaka hadn’t knocked him out, he could have...even possessed he could have tried to escape. But...because of Gongenzaka’s decision...
“Let go, Gongenzaka. Let me take this burden from you. It’s enough. It’s enough.”
Gongenzaka couldn’t hold it. He couldn’t hold out. With a cry, the ceiling pressed down hard on top of him. He could feel something cool and soft worming its way into his brain, and the Ringmaster let out a soft, gentle sigh.
“That’s it, Gongenzaka. Just let go. Just trust me.”
The voice was too soothing. Too calming.
And if Gongenzaka didn’t listen, he and Sawatari and maybe more would die.
I can’t let them get hurt , he thought. Just — just for a moment. I’ll let them think they have me for just long enough to stop this crash.
He relaxed his guard one last time, and he felt the cool, gentle aura of the Ringmaster slipping into his mind.
After that, the pain and weight vanished.
And so did the rest of his thoughts about the matter.
Yoko tried striking another wall with her shinai, but it sounded just as solid as the rest. Fuck. She’d think that in a crazy circus show place there’d be a few more false walls. After all, that Ringmaster guy had to be getting around and appearing randomly somehow, right? Unless it was, in fact, RSV bullshit, like Yuzu had suggested.
Dammit, dammit, dammit. Speaking of Yuzu, Yoko needed to find a way back to her. How long had she been wandering aimlessly around in this damn maze?
Angry, she hit another wall with her shinai, and it was a wonder that the force of the blow didn’t shatter her wooden sword, instead just sending a vibration through her arms once again. She swore. That wasn’t going to do her any good. She needed to stay calm.
God, it was just about hopeless to, though. All she could think, running through her head, was that awful scene she’d first stumbled onto, with Yuzu getting surrounded by a bunch of wild, slavering animals, nearly about to die. And if that had been what Yuzu was dealing with, what was she facing now? What were the others facing?
What about Yuya?
She swore again to hide the panic that shot through her breast, and picked up the pace moving down the long, endless hallway. She’d let Yuya run off on a world-saving mission once before, and she’d almost lost him. She couldn’t — she couldn’t deal with that again.
“Yuya!” she shouted. “Hey! Kids! Anyone??”
The hallway suddenly split two directions before her. Both directions looked about the same, so Yoko went with her gut and swerved left. This hallway had a few branching pathways in different directions. God, but she really didn’t like this situation. This hallway was just barely big enough for her to stretch her arms out to both sides. Not enough space to adequately use her shinai as a weapon, and barely enough space to turn around, even. If she got pinned down in here, that could be a problem. She’d had one or two scrapes in an alley this size before, and none of them had been experiences she looked forward to having again. You needed space to have a proper fight.
Her ears twitched at the sound of feet scuffling against the floor. It was coming from one of the branching hallways up ahead.
Yoko stopped dead. She pressed herself to the wall, and positioned her shinai with both hands pulled back, ready to stab it forward like a spear at throat-level. Carefully, she slid along the wall towards the sound.
The scuffling grew closer and closer...it was definitely coming from the nearest hallway. She was nearly there...
A shape came around the corner, a flash of red and the twitch of long coattails, and with a cry, Yoko stabbed her shinai forward.
The figure leaped backwards, arms wheeling. Her shinai caught him in the chest, but just barely, and there wasn’t enough momentum at that distance to do more than shove him back half a step and nearly make him lose his balance.
Yoko immediately recovered, drawing back.
“Yusho?” she said, eyes narrowing.
She didn’t trust a damn thing in this circus, least of all the shape of her husband who had suddenly appeared before her. Yusho blinked with surprise, lips parting. Then a relieved smile broke over his lips.
“Yoko,” he said. “I did find you — are you all right?”
He tried to step forwards, but Yoko held her shinai out to keep space between them.
“How’d you get here, and when?” she said. “Sorry, hun. But you can’t be too careful out here.”
“I got your message, of course,” Yusho said with a frown. “Do you think I was about to leave you and Yuya alone with whatever was happening?”
Yoko pressed her lips together and tried not to release the wouldn’t be the first time that was about to tumble through her lips. She swallowed it back, though. Yusho really did look worried, and now wasn’t the time to discuss their current relationship status.
She let her shinai fall back down to her side, considering him.
“How long have you been in here?”
“Not long,” said Yusho, looking about the hallways. “I’ve been wandering through these hallways for at least twenty minutes. No sign of anyone until I found you.”
It really did sound and look like Yusho. Maybe she was being too paranoid for no reason. Ugh. This was exhausting. Her shoulders finally slumped and she let out a heavy sigh. Yusho stepped forward automatically, putting one hand lightly on her shoulder. She raised her own hand up to lay on top of his — it was...comforting, as much as she didn’t feel like she had time to admit it.
“So you haven’t met the Ringmaster yet, huh?” she said.
Yusho blinked, lips parting.
“The who?” he said.
“Figures. I’ll bet they weren’t prepared for you to show up.”
She let her hand fall from his.
“Let’s walk and talk,” she said. “I’ll fill you in, but we can’t stay in one place. Yuya and the others could be in danger.”
Yusho’s lips tightened, and he nodded. He stepped aside to let Yoko pass in front of him, and Yoko took the lead. They had to walk single file down this hallway, so she kept looking back behind her as she quickly filled him in on the situation and what she knew so far.
Yusho nodded briefly.
“This certainly doesn’t sound like an optimal situation,” he said.
“There you go with your big words again,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him. “Actually, this is almost a little nostalgic, huh?”
Yusho’s lips parted with surprise, and Yoko rolled her eyes. Figures he wouldn’t remember.
“You know, back in the day. When I started dragging you along on raids. And then you’d just put on a show and everyone would laugh so much that we forgot why we were fighting in the first place.”
The smile that took over Yusho’s lips seemed too quick, almost.
“You’ve always run straight into trouble,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Oh, and you haven’t?” Yoko said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not the one who disappeared for three years, bucko.”
She regretted saying it as soon as it left her lips, especially when she saw the faint regret in Yusho’s eyes. She looked forward quickly. For a long moment, they walked in silence. Dammit. Now wasn’t the time for her to be getting nostalgic and then angry. The stress was getting to her. She and Yusho hadn’t had a proper conversation about everything that had happened for a few months, both of them busy with either Heartland restoration, trying to help Sora after he’d moved in, or other new daily tasks. And part of it was just simple avoidance. How do you talk about the fact that your husband left you for three years to go on an adventure to save the world without even telling you?
She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she was pulled gently to a stop.
“What?” she said, turning to face him and scowling. “I’ll apologize later, right now we —”
“No, listen, Yoko,” Yusho said. His eyes were soft, and his voice was low and smooth, and for a moment it reminded her all over again about the day she fell in love with him. It made something in her freeze up. “I’m being unfair to you.”
“Now isn’t the time,” Yoko said, her breath hitching. “Yuya —”
“Is stronger than you and I give him credit for. Whatever this mess is, I think we can trust Yuya more than anyone to fix it,” Yusho said soothingly, squeezing her shoulder. “Please. Let me talk for just a moment.”
This really, really, really wasn’t the time, but something in Yusho’s voice made her hesitate.
“Make it quick,” she said.
Yusho put his other hand on her other shoulder, and he was so close and she could smell him again the way she hadn’t in three years.
“I was wrong to leave without saying anything,” he said. “I didn’t think about what it would mean for you. I thought that I could fix things quickly — I was thinking too far ahead, to trying to save you and Yuya from Leo’s ambitions, and I never thought about the short-term. I let you down. I left you...alone.”
Yoko pressed her lips together, shaking her head.
“This was never about me, Yusho,” she said. “You know that. It hurt when you left and I’m not going to deny that. But I’ve had people leave me before, all the time, without warning. Hell, Yusho, I was still dating Maiko and Kanon while we were married. I wasn’t alone, and I had a support network to handle it.”
She pushed one of his hands off of her shoulder, but she held it lightly.
“It hurt losing you, but, no offense, hun...I got over it. I always did,” she said. “It wasn’t about me. It was about Yuya. Yuya needed you.”
Yusho’s eyes cast down, and his whole body seemed to slump a little.
“I know,” he said. “And I’m sorry. It was too much to put on you both.”
“Well, fine, good, we’re talking about it,” she said. “And you can apologize to Yuya when we find him, got it? But this time, we work together.”
Yusho smiled.
“Of course,” he said. “We’ll find him. He’ll be safe, I’m sure.”
Yoko cocked a half smile at him, but she found that she was too sad to keep it up. She held her arm out and used her shinai to push him back from her. He frowned at her with surprise.
“That was a pretty good pep talk,” she said. “Almost as good as the real thing would have been.”
“Yoko?” Yusho said.
Yoko stared right at Yusho, her eyes boring into his.
Ah, she thought with a sigh. Yup. That sparkle she loved so much wasn’t there. His eyes looked more like glass beads.
“Did you figure out enough about me to start fucking with my brain, Ringmaster?” Yoko said.
Yusho stared at her with wide, surprised eyes. She shook her head. God. Still playing the fool til the end.
“Let’s get one thing straight, whoever you are,” she said. “I guess you must have heard me tell Yuzu that I left a message for Yusho before I got here.”
She leaned in just a bit.
“Well here’s the real truth: my husband and I have a lot in common when it comes to running off to save the world without telling the other we’re doing it.”
This time, Yusho’s face reacted. His eyes flashed, and he leaped backwards against the opposite wall. In a dizzying flash, the image of Yusho disappeared, and instead — Sawatari appeared? Yoko was more taken aback by this than anything, and she drew back, shinai drawn and back pressed against the wall.
“So you lied,” came the voice of the Ringmaster, echoing through the hallway. “You didn’t even bother letting your husband know that you were coming.”
“I wasn’t lying when I talked to your fake one,” Yoko said. “I did get over him leaving. Because both of us knew what we were getting into when we got married.”
The Ringmaster appeared with a blink beside the blank eyed Sawatari, hands tight around their cane.
“You’re quite good, to see through the Actor,” the Ringmaster said. “I suppose I shouldn’t have underestimated you.”
Yoko turned her shinai towards them.
“I’m gonna count to three,” she said. “And your mind games aren’t gonna work on me, so don’t even bother trying. You take me to Yuya and the others right now, you maniac.”
The Ringmaster sucked in through their teeth, clearly frustrated, but considering Yoko in front of them without the slightest bit of care for the shinai she pointed directly towards their throat.
“I knew you’d be the hardest,” they mumbled. “It’s so hard to understand...but I thought if I’d gotten a few performances completed before I invited you, then it would be easier...”
“One,” Yoko said.
“I suppose that if I...no, perhaps that’s too cruel, too cruel, I can’t go too far...because I...”
“ Two ,” Yoko snapped.
The Ringmaster let out a heavy sigh.
“I’ll let you see your precious son,” they said, sounding almost mournful. “It seems that...that might be the only way to make you understand.”
Yoko swung forward with her shinai without waiting for a ‘three’. The Ringmaster snapped their fingers, and the floor dropped out from under her feet. The world shifted and twirled and when she snapped back to herself, she was sitting in an auditorium seat. She found with shock and anger that she couldn’t bring herself to move. Her arms seemed physically sealed to the arms of the chair.
“Coward!” she shouted, struggling to move, but all she could move was her head, wiggling it back and forth to try and get herself free. “Get out here and face me!”
She heard the Ringmaster’s sigh somewhere far away.
“I didn’t want to do this,” they mumbled. “But I suppose — I’ll need to break him anyway. Maybe this will kill two birds with one stone.”
Yoko let out a cry of frustration. And then she heard a soft gasp.
“Mom?”
Her eyes snapped forward. Oh — oh no. Yoko’s breath stuck in her throat.
Before her, instead of a stage, was a semi-circle of box-like cages, stacked in two levels. In the top middle right one was Yuya.
Yuya pressed against the bars, gripping at them and trying to rattle his boxlike cage.
“Mom!! Mom, are you okay?”
“Yuya!” Yoko shouted. “Yuya, it’s all right, I’m coming, I’m going to get you out of there —”
The Ringmaster appeared on the space in front of the cages then, leaning on their cane.
“Welcome to the sideshow,” the Ringmaster said. “And please welcome our first attraction...”
They snapped their fingers, and Yuya’s cage was shoved forward. He cried out as the cage landed heavily on the stage in front of the rest of the cages. He scrambled to his feet and started pounding at the ceiling of the cage, kicking at the walls.
“Bastard!” Yoko screamed. “What are you doing?”
The Ringmaster stepped aside, tilting their head at Yuya. Then they snapped their fingers again, and Yoko’s breath stuck in her throat again as four rapiers appeared in the air, floating over the cage. Yuya’s eyes widened and he stopped kicking, staring up at the blades.
“Have you ever heard, dear audience, of a such thing as a living pincushion?” the Ringmaster said.