Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey, Tech!”

Techno turned around, earning a face full of mud as Wilbur cackled, Techno quickly wiping it off and giving his twin a harsh glare.

He didn’t say anything but instead gave chase, Wilbur laughing all the while as he ran from his brother, Phil watching them with a fond smile, shaking his head in slight exasperation.

“Boys, boys !” Phil sighed, running a hand down his face to hide his smile as he watched Wilbur trip over an exposed tree root, Techno just giving him a small, smug grin as the brunette groaned in pain. “We’re here to hunt—don’t make too much noise or you’ll scare the prey away.”

“Yes, dad.” They said at the same time, Wilbur slowly getting up and Techno offering a hand, pulling him up the rest of the way, both of them exchanging a small smile.

All three of them were carrying a bow, arrows hung in the bag slung behind their backs, and it was the first time either boy had been taken out to hunt.

Phil was pretty excited to teach them, wanting them to enjoy the thrill of the chase and the euphoria of calmly sniping a creature without them even noticing.

He glanced at his boys, watching as Wilbur talked, waving his hands around for dramatic effect, Techno not saying much but grunting every once in a while to let his twin know he was listening.

To be honest, Phil was a bit worried. Not for Techno of course, no. Techno had shown his clear interest and even talent for weapons like swords and bows, able to precisely hit a target dead center with a bow and land easy critical hits with a sword while effectively using a shield to his advantage.

It was Wilbur he was worried about.

Wilbur was… more passive, to say the least. He didn’t have the strength of his twin, nor the willingness or enthusiasm to learn how to hold a weapon. Not to say he was bad with them, per se, but definitely not quite comparable to Techno.

Both of them had raw talent, but only one of them was willing to hone that talent. Such a shame, but what could he do, really? It’s fine—he loves them both no matter what.

They eventually found a rabbit, and Phil patiently showed them how to hold their bow and properly place their arrow, making sure that everything was positioned just so.

Techno took to it all eagerly, eyeing the rabbit with an almost hungry gaze, but Wilbur was substantially more apprehensive.

He glanced at the bunny, those round, black eyes staring back, seemingly unaware of its impending doom, and he looked back at his father, hesitantly asking. “Do… do we have to?”

Phil bit back a sigh, instead giving his son a small, if somewhat helpless, smile. “Well, even if we don’t do anything, the bunny might get eaten by something else in the forest. We’re just getting to it first. Besides, it’ll help feed us, so its death won’t be in vain.”

Wilbur frowned, wanting to retort, but Phil simply turned his attention back to Techno, steadying the boy’s hands as he said gently, “yes, just like that. Don’t pull it too tight—yes, yes, good. Now, keep your aim steady. Make sure you’ve got it just right, and release.”

Techno nodded tersely, took a deep breath, and then let go of the string and arrow, letting it soar across the air and landing square in the bunny’s forehead, the poor thing falling to the ground before it even had a chance to react.

Phil smiled as Techno grinned, Wilbur’s gasp of horror ignored by both of them as they hurried to collect their loot.

The rest of the day continued like that, with Techno eagerly hunting almost anything and everything that came their way, Wilbur only shooting, and missing, two arrows at a single deer, the deer running away before anyone else could take a shot at it.

To say Phil was disappointed would be a slight understatement, but it wasn’t outside of his expectations so he wasn’t too terribly upset about it.

He understood Wilbur’s reluctance towards these kinds of things and thus knew his performance would be lackluster at best, though Techno pleasantly surprised him.

Techno had managed to take down multiple deer and bunnies all on his own, and, while he still couldn’t quite handle those slippery birds or tackle something as big as a bear, Phil was proud of his son. It was highly impressive, especially for a ten year old boy.

All in all, a successful hunting trip in his humble opinion.

They made their way home, Wilbur oddly quiet the entire time and neither of the other two quite the conversationalists so they didn’t bother initiating conversation.

Phil was glad he brought a wagon along with them, thoughtfully leaving it back on the trail as they ventured off. He really didn’t want to make multiple trips back and forth, especially considering the somewhat awkward silence hanging between them all.

Surprisingly it was Techno who broke the tension first, turning his head and opening his mouth to say to his twin, “... I think I need to redye my hair.”

Wilbur blinked in surprise, looking over at the older twin. Techno held his gaze, though there was a slight blush on his face, showing his underlying embarrassment. Being a child, while he had an impressive poker face, it wasn’t perfect.

It helped, though, as Wilbur was able to tell his brother was trying to cheer him up, which caused him to beam. “Sure, I can help you. You’ll have to listen to my latest song and help me with it, though.”

“Great.” Techno rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth quirked up, showing he wasn’t as upset about it as he tried to make them believe.

Phil smiled at his two boys and just as things were settling down, a noise sounded from the forest, causing all them to halt.

They looked around at each other, and Phil’s eyes lit up when he recognized the sound, excitedly saying, “that—that’s a firebird’s call—”

“Firebird?” Wilbur questioned but Phil didn’t hear him, instead abandoning the wagon and rushing back into the forest.

“Dad?” Both of his sons called after him, and he could faintly hear their footsteps as they followed him, but Phil focused solely on the bird’s call.

Another caw, much closer this time, and Phil broke out into the open, hurriedly looking around and looking up to see the majestic bird flying freely in the sky, its fiery wings flickering beautifully.

“Dad, wait—” Wilbur wheezed, surprisingly the first of the two to get to him, Techno barely a step behind him. He looked up to where Phil was looking and his brown eyes widened in surprise, taking a few moments to choke out a quiet, “is-is that… the firebird?”

A majestic bird cloaked in flames, its golden body shimmering beautifully in the sun’s light, the firebird truly lived up to its name.

“Those are rare, and I’ve only ever seen three or four in my life.” Phil whispered in barely concealed awe. “Their feathers can make potions said to be miracles, and their meat is said to give whoever ate it immortality.”

“O-Oh.” Wilbur stammered, unsure of how to respond, but Techno just kept his eyes on the bird, watching it like a hawk.

Phil wanted to try and catch it, only to realize he’d left his bow and arrows back at the wagon.

His heart plummeted, and he watched the bird circle above them mournfully, a race chance he was forced to let slip through his fingers. Just as he was about to tell his boys to go on and go back, a low sigh escaping his lips, he heard the rush of wind and Wilbur’s surprised gasp followed by a strangled caw and a thud not too long after.

Phil whipped around, looking at the firebird now on the ground, an arrow in its neck, and back to Techno, who had taken out his bow, a proud look on his face and stunned awe on Wilbur’s, and he knew exactly what happened.

“That… Techno, did you…” He was stunned silly, unsure of what to say.

Techno smiled at him. “I got it, Dad.”

Phil beamed back at him. “That… That’s fantastic!”

“I’ll get it. It’s important, right?” Techno said, walking over to the body of the bird.

Just as he reached to pick it up, there was a rumble. All of them froze, and then…

A crack formed on the ground, and they all stared in shock as Techno slowly began to fall. Phil stood there, frozen in shock, but Wilbur jumped forward immediately, shouting out a panicked, “ Techno !”

Techno reached out for him, but their fingers just barely missed, and Wilbur was unable to grab him. So, as he fell, Techno grabbed hold of the falling bird and, with all his might, chucked it at his twin.

Wilbur clumsily caught it, the flames already having died out along with the animal’s life and posing no threat as he held it close, watching with wide, teary eyes as his twin fell.

Phil’s brain finally caught up and he rushed forward, all too late to stop his son from falling, only able to let out a heart-wrenching cry:

“ Techno !”

Chapter Text

A loud clang followed by a harsh thud , and then silence.

After a few moments, a voice sounded from above, slightly cold yet underneath held a layer of familial warmth. “Get up. Try it again.”

Wilbur groaned, gripping his sword tightly as he forced himself back onto his feet, swaying slightly but immediately blocking the hit his father swung almost immediately as soon as he got up, letting the blade slide off his own before knocking it back, Phil smiling brightly at his reaction speed.

“Good! You’re improving quickly.” Phil complimented, striking yet again.

The two of them continued like that for a while, Wilbur making sure to perfect everything Phil taught him while Phil increased his strength and speed more and more until Wilbur was once again lying on the ground, bruised and bleeding.

He panted heavily, his chest rising and falling as his lungs desperately tried to regain all the air they’d lost, and Phil’s voice echoed in the clearing once again:

“Get up, Techno.”

Wilbur closed his eyes, feeling his skin quickly stitch itself back together as he got up, ignoring his body’s protests, readying himself for the next wave of attacks.

However, just before Phil could strike again, a young voice called out, stopping them both in their tracks.

“S-Stop!” Tommy cried out, rushing over to them, tears in his eyes as he flung himself on Phil’s leg, looking up at the man with wide, watery eyes. “Wil—Techno’s tired. He needs to rest.”

Phil looked down at the boy, apathy clear in his expression before it’s wiped away completely, a small smile on his face as he nodded, sighing, “you’re right. We’ve been training for a while now, haven’t we?”

Neither of them mentioned that the “training” has been going on since early this morning and now it was late afternoon, the sun setting in the red-orange sky.

“Alright. I’ll get dinner started. What do you want, Tech?” Phil asked, glancing at Wilbur.

Wilbur kept his expression neutral, not a ripple of emotion to be seen as he said monotonously, “baked potato.”

Phil beamed, seemingly pleased with that answer. “Good! I’ll get started right away.”

He left, and the two boys were left on their own.

Wilbur watched him go and, as soon as the door closed behind him, fell to one knee, Tommy hurriedly running to his side, worriedly hovering by his side without actually touching him, unsure that if he did he wouldn’t just make something worse.

“A-Are you okay, Wil?” Tommy asked quietly, Wilbur panting quietly as he looked over at his younger brother.

These four years after Techno died had been especially harsh on Wilbur, Phil being unable to cope with the loss of the older twin.

Wilbur had been subconsciously aware that Phil had a favorite between the two of them, though he underestimated by how much until Techno was no longer in their lives.

Phil refused to believe Techno was gone, and after a week of wallowing in his own despair, leaving Wilbur to fend for himself, he came out of his room and almost immediately called Wilbur “Techno” on sight.

When Wilbur tried to tell Phil that, no, he was Wilbur , Phil had gripped his shoulders tightly, a slightly crazed smile on his face: “what are you talking about, Tech? Wilbur… Wilbur died trying to pick up the firebird for you. Don’t you remember?”

Any other time Wilbur tried to correct Phil that he was Wilbur, not Techno, Phil would break down and after a month or two Wilbur simply gave up, letting Phil call him by his dead brother’s name.

And at first, that’s all it was.

Phil would call him Techno, and treat him how Techno did from time to time, but there wasn’t much more than that.

Until about four months later, Phil had said that one damning sentence that brought him to the hell he lived today: “It seems we’ve been slacking on your training lately.”

Wilbur looked at him incredulously. “What?”

“We can’t mourn for Wilbur forever.” Phil said, the disregard for his own life by his father so easily still stinging as much as it did the first time hurting his chest. “Besides, if we don’t want something like that to happen again, we should build up our strength.”

And thus began Wilbur’s harsh training.

Because he was significantly worse than Techno, Phil just assumed he had been “too upset about his brother’s death” and thus his skills have dulled.

“But that’s alright.” Phil said gently, his ‘kind’ smile sending a shiver down the brunette’s spine. “We can just increase the training a little. You’ll be back in shape in no time.”

Running, weights, pushups, sit ups, sword fighting, bow training… Wilbur’s days were filled with nothing but strengthening his body and familiarity with weapons ever since.

Wilbur was extremely apprehensive about it all, especially after Phil’s recent state of mind, but Phil was adamant about “training” those kinds of thoughts and worries out of him.

He also had all his own clothes thrown away, replaced with Techno’s, forced to change his clothing and lifestyle to become an exact replica of his brother’s.

Chocolate brown hair had been dyed a bubblegum pink, a face and body that was normally so expressive that it carried every single thought and emotion he had show on his face now blank and somewhat stiff, and voice that was once akin to the soothing melody of a soft summer’s song now monotonous and somewhat cold.

Wilbur was forced to grow his hair out, a neat braid reaching just above the half of his back, and the only thing still resembling him was the slight waviness Phil had never managed to get out, no matter how many potions or drying techniques or anything else he tried.

It was straighter than it was before, but still have a small wave the showed it was still Wilbur… but even then everything else had been stripped from him.

He was no longer “Wilbur”.

He was Techno, Phil’s favorite child and the youngest fighting and intellectual genius.

Wilbur now knew so much about Greek mythology and English and mathematics, all things he was never good at but learned because they were things Techno excelled at.

His history and science were fine, though Techno was still better at those than him so he had to learn those too.

He still was far, far behind Techno’s level, but he was much smarter than any fourteen year old child should be.

After all of this, the only reason Wilbur still hadn’t lost his own sense of self was because of Tommy.

Sweet, innocent, loveable Tommy.

Unable to bear living in the same home Techno had died near, Phil had packed up their things and the two of them moved all over the server, unable to stay in one place for very long.

During that time, they had visited many places and met many people, but Tommy had come barreling into their lives, quite literally in fact.

They had been in a town gathering supplies, Phil putting away some apples, bread, and other foodstuff into his inventory, Wilbur by his side, his expression halfway between emotionless and endlessly tired, still only two years into his transition to truly becoming “Techno”.

He was looking around, slightly bored with just standing around, when a small body slammed into him, causing him to stagger.

Instinctively he grabbed hold of whoever it was and pinned them to the ground, running on adrenaline and surprise, staring down at a face with a shock and slight awe, wide, blue eyes looking up at him back.

That was his and Tommy’s first meeting, and Wilbur was never able to rid himself of the clingy, overly excitable blonde child ever since.

Tommy was on the run from a store owner who had caught him stealing from them and, after convincing Phil to pay for him and defuse the situation, Tommy had glued himself to the pink-haired preteen’s side ever since.

Wilbur didn’t really know what to do with the boy who was covered from head to toe in dirt, too skinny to be healthy but eyes that shone like brightly burning stars, and since Phil didn’t seem to care one way or another the boy wound up following them on their adventures.

Phil never adopted the boy, and Tommy never seemed to think of him as any sort of parental figure, so Wilbur was the one to show Tommy how to read and write, how to clean himself and how to identify what was safe to eat and what wasn’t.

Tommy seemed to only grow more and more attached to him as time went on, and Wilbur himself couldn’t help but find his own heart softening for the boy who looked at him like he’d hung the moon and stars.

It was one rainy day when Tommy finally learned of Wilbur’s actual name, after a year and a half of living with them, when Phil was out and Wilbur was reading one of the many books Techno has left behind and he still had to catch up on.

While snooping around the young six year old had found an old photo in the attic of their sixth temporary house, hobbling over to Wilbur and showing it to him, the preteen fighting back a flinch in surprise as he looked over at Tommy, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Hey, Tech, who’s this?” Tommy asked, pointing to Techno, and Wilbur had a moment of surprise. “He looks like you, but his hair isn’t as wavy as yours…”

Wilbur looked down at the photo, a simple picture of Phil and Techno, any photo of Wilbur either burned or left behind to be long since forgotten about.

His mouth felt dry and he wasn’t sure what to say, simply staring at the image in blank shock.

“Techno…?”

Wilbur almost flinched at that name, even though he had gotten used to it by now.

Phil refused to call him by his own name, and Tommy had never been told otherwise—that he wasn’t Techno. That the person in the photo was the real Techno. That Techno was dead and that he, Wilbur, was being used as a replacement for him.

… That “Wilbur” might be slowly dying as well.

He didn’t know what to say, so he simply closed his eyes, holding back a shuddering breath as tears welled up behind his eyelids.

“Tech? Techno?”

Tommy’s worried voice and calling out for a name that wasn’t his sent his emotions overboard as he cried silently, the boy’s worried hovering nearby, close yet not touching, knowing Wilbur’s revulsion to touch after everything that had happened, and Wilbur simply couldn’t help but cry more.

It wasn’t until afterwards, after calming down and regaining his composure that Wilbur simply told him that the boy in the photo was his brother, his twin.

“Oh!” Tommy looked excited, glancing up at the preteen with bright eyes before they dimmed, the smile on his lips falling at looking at his sad expression. “Oh… Is… Is he…?”

“Yeah.” Wilbur said lamely, his tongue feeling numb.

Even after all this time, it still felt wrong to say his brother was… was dead . Maybe, in his heart, he believed his twin survived. Maybe it was just a simple wishful fantasy. But he couldn’t help it. He missed his brother. He missed him so, so much.

“Oh.” Tommy looked down at the photo for a few seconds, a conflicted look on his face before he asked, “what… what was his name?”

And, before Wilbur could think about it, his mouth betrayed him, forcing the poor boy who didn’t deserve to have such a heavy weight on his shoulders to bear the burden of the forbidden secret: “Techno.”

Tommy blinked in surprise, looking between the photo and Wilbur rapidly, clearly confused. “Wh-What? But… You’re Techno, aren’t you? Why is your name the same?”

Wilbur wasn’t sure what expression he had, but when Tommy looked back up at him after staring at the picture for a few seconds, but a strange look Wilbur couldn’t quite decipher spread across his face.

Or maybe you don’t want to decipher it, Wilbur’s traitorous mind whispered to him.

“Th-Then… what’s your name?” Tommy asked, and Wilbur felt his breath catch in his throat.

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

He should tell Tommy he was joking, that he was Techno, that the person in the photo was him, that he didn’t have a brother.

But… when he looked at those eyes, those eyes that seemed to hold so much more wisdom than any child should, his mouth opened and he found himself saying a name he hadn’t heard in years:

“Wilbur.”

Tommy stared at him for a few moments, mouthing the name before beaming, and Wilbur watched as he nodded to himself before looking up at the pink-haired preteen with a smile brighter than the sun. “Wilbur.”

It was one simple word, one he should have been all too familiar with, but that one single word shook him to his core, a wave of all sorts of emotions overtaking him, almost choking him.

Tommy sat down next to him, wrapping him in the best hug his young, slightly stunted six year old boy could give, gently whispering to him, “it’s nice to meet you, Wilbur.”

Wilbur closed his eyes, eyebrows twitching, and felt tears fall from his eyelashes and down his cheeks once again, not letting a sound come from his body yet felt himself trembling slightly all the same.

It was his name. The name that had been with him for ten years of his life. But it felt both foreign and familiar to him now.

He was Wilbur. He was Wilbur.

He was Wilbur… right?

-

“Hey, Techno, can you check on the chickens for me?”

Techno looked up from the carrots his was picking, Sam standing at the backdoor as he smiled at his son with a warm gaze and soft smile.

The preteen huffed but didn’t stop the small smile of his own, simply replying, “your back thrown out already, old man?”

“Hey, I’m not that old!”

Techno laughed and, despite his words, did what his father asked of him anyways, getting up and adjusting his grip on the basket on his hip before checking on the chickens.

He walked over to the coop, hanging the basket on a hoop on the slope of the roof before heading inside.

It didn’t take long to check on them, grabbing another basket they kept in there to gather some eggs and scattering some seeds on the ground from the nearby chest and making sure all of them were alive and well before leaving them to feed.

Grabbing the carrots he headed back inside, placing both baskets on the kitchen table, watching as Sam busied himself over the stove with some steak and bacon, the tantalizing scent making his mouth water.

“What are you making?” Techno asked, making sure to keep out of Sam’s way as the man cooked, though he eyed the delicacy every once in a while.

“Just some simple steak, bacon and eggs, nothing too complicated.” Sam told him flippantly, waving his hand as he grabbed some of the eggs Techno brought in. “Thank you again for your help, Techno.”

“Mm.” Techno hummed, though he was pleased with the man’s praise.

It didn’t take long for Sam to finish the meal, adding some sliced carrots and potatoes to the steak and setting everything out on two plates and telling Techno to wash his hands before allowing him to sit at the table.

The two of them dug into the meal, Techno’s taste buds endlessly grateful for Sam’s insistence on expanding his pallet beyond “potatoes”.

It’s been four years since Sam had found Techno at the bottom of the cliff, broken and bleeding, yet bringing him back to his home and nursing him back to health with such warmth and care that it left Techno genuinely confused and, honestly, a bit skeptical.

While Phil had been a kind enough man, he didn’t seem to know how to care for children, instead raising him and his brother more like friends or a friend of their parents told to care for them in their stead, a bit awkward and maybe even slightly emotionally stunted at times.

Despite the ten years Techno had lived with the man, even calling him “dad” or “father”, and said man even being his own biological father, he didn’t really feel like much of a parent.

It was always a weird sort of disconnect he felt with the man, one he knew his twin felt as well but neither ever spoke about.

Phil was their father, but he was never their dad. It didn’t mean they didn’t love him, though.

How could they not at least have positive feelings for the person who raised them for all their lives? Someone who clothed, fed, and housed them, teaching them everything he knew and did his best to help them when they were hurt or sad, even though his methods were slightly questionable now that Techno had another point of reference.

Speaking of which…

Sam felt like the father Phil never could be.

When Sam found him, he was all kind words and gentle smiles, making sure to keep his thoughts and emotions in mind whilst gently reprimanding him when Techno didn’t take his own safety or wellbeing into consideration once he found out he did not, in fact, die and was now separated from his family. From his brother.

From his twin.

But Sam refused to let him go out and look for him, to tell them that he was safe even though he knew both of them would be worried sick about him. Probably even thinking he was dead.

And, from what Sam told him, he was lucky enough to be alive.

Techno had fallen from a cliff that, while not the biggest, still had a high enough drop to at least disable someone once they fell.

However, Techno had luckily managed to fall into a fairly soft bush with enough give that he only had a few broken bones and shallow cuts and bruises.

Maybe it was because Techno didn’t want to leave his family, his brother , like that, and whatever being out there took pity on him, but he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth regardless.

Sam had assured him that, once he was all healed up, they would go and find his family and tell them the good news and reunite them.

It took a few months for Techno’s bones to heal, or at the very least until Sam felt he was good enough, and, while it was fairly irritating and grueling, wanting to just hurry back to his twin and hug him once more, even though he was never one for physical affection, he had to admit Sam’s help and attention had made things at least slightly more bearable.

Unfortunately, once Sam gave him the go ahead and the two of them made their way back to the house on top of the cliff, they found it abandoned, no sign of life still living in it.

Techno was devastated, looking around, panicked, wanting to believe they hadn’t left him, that maybe they had just gone out for a bit, but Sam managed to calm him down and help him look at the situation rationally.

They weren’t there, they had left, and Sam pointed out that they probably wouldn’t want to live in a place where their own son and brother had died, even if Techno wasn’t actually dead.

Techno wasn’t slow nor stupid, he understood the man’s words perfectly.

It didn’t make it any easier, though.

Sam promised to help him find them, thus leading them on a wild goose chase for four years.

Despite their best efforts, any lead they managed to get only led them to being either just too late to catch them or the lead was weeks, or maybe even months , old at that point and thus pointless.

During all this time, Sam never once left Techno’s side, never once tossed him out or abandoned him.

And as they grew closer, Techno slowly began to feel as if he finally understood what true parental affection felt like.

Not awkward pats on the back or shoulder, not weird insistence on learning how to wield a bow or sword, not stilted conversations of blatant favoritism that lead to one child’s actions being praised and fawned over the other’s, and their faults ignored and the other’s heavily frowned upon.

Sam showed him that a father should show genuine interest in a child’s interests, should encourage their own wants and needs instead of telling them that only one way of living was the “true” way to live.

When Techno found himself preferring to farm over fight, to hold a hoe over a sword, Sam didn’t get upset with him. Instead, he showed him how to till the ground and plant the seeds, how much water was enough and that too much could drown them.

He wasn’t upset that Techno, despite his clear fighting prowess, enjoyed collecting radishes and carrots to bunnies and deer.

When Techno questioned him on it, why he wasn’t upset that Techno didn’t continue with his sword and bow training, despite all the signs that showed he was clearly more skilled at those than even most adult men, Sam just gave him a small, sad, yet encouraging, smile. “Fighting isn’t all there is to life, Techno. If you want to farm, want to enjoy your days under the heat of the sun in the dirt instead of swinging a sword, then you can. I’m not here to dictate your life. However you want to spend your time, I’ll support you no matter what.”

For the first time in his life, Techno felt his heart warm for someone other than Wilbur, for someone’s words other than his twin’s affect him so much, so deeply, that he felt his eyes tear up. The man sounded so genuine, that he truly believed what he said, that Techno couldn’t help but believe him himself.

He knew he probably shouldn’t, should ignore the man’s words that he hadn’t even known for half of his life, but he couldn’t help it. It was the first time he felt the love of what he thought a father should be like, and he cried.

Sam worried over him, bringing him into a hug after asking if it was okay, and Techno could only cry harder.

With gentle hushing and words of reassurance, Techno closed his eyes, gripping the man’s shirt tightly, wishing more than ever Wilbur could be here with him, could be here enjoying the warmth and love of a true dad.

After that day, their relationship changed, and Techno found himself thinking of the man as his father more and more until, one day, it accidentally slipped.

He had just come in from outside, sweating from being under the sweltering summer sun for hours on end, a bit miffed with the redstone machine that helped with the automatic crop collecting wasn’t working properly.

“Hey, Dad, I need help with—” Techno cut himself off, suddenly realizing what he’d just said.

Sam had been tinkering with something on the living room table and he paused, looking up at Techno with wide eyes.

Techno flushed, his entire face red, and Sam quickly got up, almost tripping over his own two feet as he did so.

“Did—Did you just—” Sam stuttered, looking at Techno with slight awe, and unconcealed affection, so open and genuine that Techno couldn’t help but smile slightly despite himself.

“ Dad ,” he enunciated, feeling warm when Sam’s face brightened even more, impossibly so. “I need help with a redstone machine. I think it broke.”

“Of-Of course!” Sam said, beaming at him, and Techno was greeted with a meal almost as grand as the first time he’d told the man his birthday and was given a “belated birthday celebration”.

Techno didn’t regret it, and he knew Sam thought of him as his own son, but Techno felt a bit guilty. Wilbur really should be here with him… Not only that, but Sam didn’t even know who Wilbur was .

When he expressed this to the man, Sam just laughed lightly, saying, “I may not know him personally, but I know just how good of a person he must be if you like him so much. With your stories, I feel like I’ve known him for a long, long time. He’s my son too, just as much as you are. Hopefully he won’t mind having another dad as well.”

Techno couldn’t help but feel so endlessly grateful for the man who he valued as his “true” father, and he could only hope to find Wilbur soon, to show him what they’d been missing all these years.

He was brought from his memories by a quiet cough, the pink-haired preteen looking up to see Sam smiling over at him gently. He flushed slightly but Sam only chuckled, unbothered by his apparent daydreaming.

“Sorry. What did you say?” He asked, slightly embarrassed, clearing his throat.

Sam smiled at him. “I was just saying I found out something about Phil and Wilbur.”

That caught Techno’s attention, the preteen sitting up straighter as he looked into the man’s eyes.

“Seems like they were seen in a few towns over.” Sam said slowly, his smile only growing when he saw Techno’s eyes brightened. “If we pack up everything by tomorrow night, we might be able to catch them in time this time.”

“Mm.” Techno nodded, scarfing down his food, earning a light reprimand from Sam who told him to eat slower, the food wasn’t going anywhere.

Techno looked out the window, watching as the sun lowered in the horizon. He wondered how Wilbur was doing right now… Hopefully he was doing well. He had so much to tell him, so much to show him.

With those thoughts, he couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come.

Chapter Text

A slash to the head, Wilbur ducked under it, quickly raising his own blade to let the other blade slide down his before knocking it back, knocking his opponent off their balance.

With swift movement he dropped down, swinging out his foot to knock them off their feet, his opponent quickly gaining their composure once again just in time to jump back and dodge it.

Wilbur moved to avoid a hit to the shoulder, cold eyes glancing up and with one brisk kick backwards, doing a backflip in the air, he kicked the sword from their hands, the dulled blade landing far away from reach as he landed, knocking the other to their feet as he swung his own sword to point at their neck, unfazed as wide eyes stared up at him.

A few moments of silence settled between them before his opponent laughed, the familiar tea kettle wheeze echoing throughout the sparring arena.

“Man, you win again.” Dream laughed, pulling himself up as Wilbur lowered his sword, not reacting as Dream went to get his own blade. “I can just never seem to outspeed you, Tech.”

“W—Tech! Dream!” Another voice called out, both of them turning to see Tommy rushing over to them, a wide smile on his face as he carried a towel and water bottle over, handing both of them to Wilbur. “You were fuckin’ amazing as always, Tech.”

Wilbur accepted his assistance with a grunt while Dream looked between the brothers with a raised eyebrow and slight grin, turning to Tommy and asking, “hey, Tommy, where’s my towel and bottle?”

“Get it yourself, bitch. They’re by the bench.” Tommy told him without missing a beat, both of them staring at each other before laughing, Tommy grinning as Dream shook his head.

“This is blatant favoritism.” Dream complained, going to get his towel and bottle from the bench, quickly wiping his face and popping open the bottle and taking a few gulps.

“Yep.” Tommy smirked, not bothering to hide it. “It’s not my fault Techno’s a million times better than you will ever be.”

“True.” Dream nodded without the slightest hint of embarrassment, sitting down on the bench to rest his aching body. “C’mon, Tech, let’s take a break. We’ve been going at this for a while now.”

Wilbur frowned minisculely, looking up at the sky to find it was almost directly above them, showing that they had been training for a few hours at the very least. “Mm.”

Tommy stared worriedly at his brother as the pink-haired man walked over to his companion’s side, sitting down with a generous space between them, Dream jokingly complaining about it but not moving closer.

He took a sip of water, his towel hanging over his shoulders as he hunched over lazily, allowing him a moment of relaxation, something he didn’t usually get.

His brother hurried over to them, easily making conversation once more. “So, how are you guys feeling about the competition tomorrow?”

Wilbur just hummed, not bothering to respond verbally but Dream was more than eager to talk, setting down his water bottle as he leaned back, a lazy smirk on his face as he said, “we’re excited for it, obviously. It’s something that only happens once every ten years, and last time this guy here won with ease. Isn’t that right, Blood God ?”

“Mhm.” Wilbur hummed, not rising to his bait. “It’s an event where all the greatest fighters come to test their strength. I hope they don’t disappoint this time.”

Tommy grimaced slightly while Dream just laughed.

“Are you saying I’m a disappointment, Tech?” Dream teased.

“No. You’re the only person who’s been able to match me blow for blow so far. I expect just as much from those competing in this competition.” Wilbur told him truthfully, never really having been one for lying.

While Wilbur was strong, it wasn’t his strength he relied on. Instead, he focused more on his speed and agility, something he was always naturally good at and only excelled more and more at with training.

So, most times, he would be able to outmaneuver his opponents and disarm them before they even had a chance to react.

However, Dream, while not quite as fast as him, had excellent reaction times and was able to dodge him around fifty percent of the time, that number only growing as they trained together more and more.

“Aw, you do care about me~”

“Shut up.”

Tommy gave the man a concerned look, but Wilbur simply ignored it, taking another swig of water.

Ever since telling Tommy about the truth, Tommy had been fairly protective of him ever since.

Wilbur was stronger than him by far, but he had only withdrawn into himself more and more as the years went on, only talking when necessary or relatively comfortable enough to do so, and even then he treated his words like gold, never really saying more than needed.

So, to counterbalance that, Tommy did most of the talking for him, knowing full well Wilbur didn’t enjoy talking too much and did his best to divert any conversation that seemed to try and make him do so, which Wilbur couldn’t help but feel somewhat warm over.

Tommy had even confronted Phil about the photo, though he didn’t mention he knew it was the real Techno and not Wilbur himself.

He simply said he found it lying around and asked Phil about who it was.

Phil stared at the photo for a long while, expression eerily blank, and both boys had felt a small shiver run down their spine at the man’s expressionlessness, the older blonde’s face usually carrying at least a small smile.

After a few agonizing minutes of silence, neither boy brave enough to try and break it before the man, Phil eventually smiled at them, though it was somehow just as blank as not having been there at all.

“That’s Wilbur.” He said easily, and Wilbur felt as if though the final piece in him broke.

Phil went on to explain to Tommy what Wilbur was like as a child, all smiles and grand gestures, soothing voice and intimate touches, a stark contrast to the shell of a person Wilbur was now, and something the image the picture showed seemed to hardly depict, as Techno’s expression was just as blank as Wilbur’s was now.

Tommy listened with rapt attention, eyes wide as he stared at Phil who told all of these things about Wilbur with a straight face, as if the boy was actually dead, no longer alive, and, in a way, he wasn’t wrong.

“Wilbur” was dead. He was dead the moment Techno left them.

That only served to show Tommy the cruelty of the world, and he even told Wilbur: “that… This is so fucked up! You—You’re—He’s—This isn’t right, Wilbur!”

Wilbur didn’t respond, simply staring at him blankly, but Tommy could see the defeat and acceptance deep within his eyes, and that only made Tommy burst out into tears.

He wanted to comfort him, wanted to hug him and tell him that it was alright, that he was fine, but his body refused to listen, the thought of another person’s touch making his skin feel like ants were crawling all over it, and he simply stood there and watched, any words he could have said lost on him…

It had been so long since he’s had to deal with things such as emotion, so he had slowly forgotten what it was like to feel them as well. He no longer knew how to comfort someone.

A vague, blurry memory of whispering gently to his twin as the pink-haired boy was frustrated over something he’d long since forgotten about flashed in his mind but left just as quickly.

The last event… The last event was a memory he’d rather soon forget, if he were to be honest, and it was clear Tommy felt the same.

A ping sounded, bringing the pink-haired man from his thoughts, and Wilbur reached into his pocket to see Phil had messaged him on his communicator, telling him to come home.

Grunting, he got to his feet, Tommy giving him a questioning glance.

“Phil messaged.” Was all he said, and, honestly, it was all that needed to be said.

Dream and Tommy’s expression changed immediately, both of them understanding the meaning behind his words.

“I see.” Dream said slowly, getting to his feet as well. “More training?”

Wilbur hummed, giving him a slight nod.

“You just got through sparring with Dream. Does he want to work you to death?” Tommy mumbled under his breath but both of the men heard him clearly.

Dream huffed out a small laugh, ruffling the blonde’s hair as the teen squawked at him indignantly. He turned towards Wilbur with a small, yet completely genuine, smile, saying quietly, “well, I’ll see you later then.”

Wilbur nodded and tossed his towel on the bench and threw his empty bottle away in the bin before turning around, getting ready to leave.

Just before he could, he heard Dream calling out to him:

“Hey, Techno!”

Wilbur paused, turning around to see Dream waving at him.

Dream stopped, resting his hands by his side as he smiled at him, a sort of understanding in his eyes as he said, “I know you might not think so, but I’d like to consider us friends. And, as your friend, I want you to know… I’m here whenever you need me.”

His words made Wilbur freeze.

He’d met Dream during the last competition event, both of them being the youngest members participating, with Dream even being two years younger than Wilbur himself.

Both of them had easily swept through the dozens of grown men competing, earning the awe and ire of many around them.

Once they reached the finals, it was just the two of them, and the battle that commenced was honestly a short one.

Dream had been cocky, having just beaten grown men, some even over twice his size, so he didn’t take Wilbur, someone barely older than him, seriously at all.

Wilbur also didn’t have him in his eyes, having grown bored of all of this and just wanting to end things quickly.

Once the referee shouted “go!”, Dream pounced, not wasting a second.

Wilbur, however, not only easily parried his blow, but also managed to knock him out of the arena at the same time, never moving from his spot, stunning not only Dream, but the audience as well.

A fourteen year old was declared the winner, and a twelve year old as the runner up.

Many complained about it, saying it must have been rigged, but that didn’t bother either boy and, as Wilbur left, Dream rushed up to him, face red with embarrassment as he declared a rematch.

Wilbur didn’t bother entertaining him, instead returning home with Phil and Tommy, Phil complimenting him on a job well done while Tommy, while also ecstatic about his victory, gave him worried glances all the same.

Over the course of the next few months, in their tenth temporary home and the one they’d been staying in so that Wilbur could participate in the competition and the one Phil finally decided to stay in for longer this time so that they could stay and train for the next one, Dream had come over nearly every day, demanding that Wilbur give him a rematch.

After almost a year of the blonde annoying him, Wilbur finally gave him what he wanted.

It ended almost the same as last time, as Wilbur didn’t want to bother playing around with the younger boy, and he expected that to be the end of it.

However, not only did Dream not stop, but he also became even more and more insistent. Phil was eventually the one to convince him to take the blonde as a training partner, and Wilbur could never disobey his father.

So, the two of them became training partners, and Wilbur was impressed when, each time after they fought, Dream only seemed to be getting better and better.

It ignited a spark in Wilbur, and Wilbur found himself training more and more seriously as well, wanting to make sure Dream never got the chance to overtake him. It was the most invigorated he’d felt in years , and Tommy almost broke down into tears when he saw the vaguest hint of a smile on Wilbur’s lip when the three of them were just hanging out, watching the two blondes bicker playfully, the seventeen year old at the time not even aware that he’d done it in the first place and trying to figure out why his ten year old brother was babbling incoherently, though Dream just beamed at him, being no help whatsoever.

During their time together, the two inevitably got closer, and Dream became one of the only people he’d allow himself to relax around, the other being Tommy.

Of course it was unavoidable that Dream found something off about Wilbur’s situation, with Phil being unnaturally eager about the pink-haired male constantly and consistently training and fighting, never taking even a single day off to rest, and Wilbur only closing himself off more and more as time went on.

The blonde never asked, which Wilbur was thankful for, but even he somehow grew protective of Wilbur the same way Tommy was, making sure no one got close to the pink-haired man and even talking for him when Tommy wasn’t around.

Wilbur was aware how much of a risk it was, how much damage it would cause if Dream found out the truth, but he found the walls he’d built up around his heart lowering to let the other man in, knowing that, with a single wrong move, his heart would be broken beyond repair.

The only people he’d let in were Dream and Tommy after all these years, and if either of them began to hate him, or push him away… He wouldn’t be able to recover.

It was a high cost, low reward move, but he couldn’t help it. Dream had wormed his way into his life, and now he was so important to him… Hopefully things will stay that way.

So, hearing Dream consider him a friend, hearing him say that he can rely on him, that he’ll be here for him… Wilbur briskly walked away, not wanting to dwell on those thoughts, Tommy giving the other man a quick goodbye before following after his brother.

Phil was waiting for them outside, standing on the porch of their fairly out of the way cabin, smiling at them once he saw them approached, though his gaze was focused solely on Wilbur.

“Welcome back, Techno.” Phil said, ignoring Tommy completely. “Have a fun time with Dream?”

Wilbur nodded.

“That’s good!” Phil looked up at the sky. “It’s still plenty early… How about we train for a bit as well?”

“Wha—But he literally just got back!” Tommy snapped, glaring at Phil.

Phil glanced at him, seemingly unbothered by his outburst. “More training never hurt anyone.”

“That is so fucking untrue and you know it, you pri—”

“It’s fine.” Wilbur said, cutting Tommy off before he said something he might regret.

Phil clapped his hands together, smile widening. “Great! You should probably start with twenty laps around the yard. Warm up your body a bit.”

Tommy sputtered, staring at the older blonde with clear disbelief. “I—Are you serious? He literally just came back from training! What more ‘warming up’ could he possibly need?”

“Well, I’m sure he could still use it.” Phil said easily, waving his concerns off.

“ Oh , you little sonofa—”

“It’s fine.” Wilbur said again, once again cutting Tommy off before a fight could start. “I needed to stretch my legs anyway.”

Phil beamed at him while Tommy’s face fell.

“See? It’ll be fine.” Phil said and Tommy glared at him but didn’t say anything else.

It was once again late afternoon when they finished, Wilbur having done his usual laps, pushups, and sit ups before taking up a sword and training with Phil, Tommy watching them like a hawk the entire time.

“Ah, look at the time.” Phil said upon happening to glance up and see the sun setting. “I think it’s almost time for dinner… Alright, we’ll end things here for now. Make sure to warm up before the competition tomorrow, too.”

“Mm.” Wilbur grunted, that being good enough for Phil, who went to go make dinner.

As his father left, Wilbur looked up at the sky, just standing there, panting lightly, body slowly beginning to ache and pain as the insistent training and workouts of today finally caught up with him.

His mind had gone blissfully blank, just watching the warm colors of the sky shimmer beautifully.

“—bur…! Wilbur !” Tommy’s voice snapped him out of his haze, blinking slowly before looking down at his brother.

Tommy looked up at his worriedly, wide blue eyes filled with endless concern. “Are you okay, Wilbur?”

It took Wilbur a few moments to realize Tommy was still, in fact, talking to him, the name he said sounding strangely unfamiliar to him. “Ah… Yes. I’m alright.”

The teen clearly didn’t seem to believe him, opening his mouth to say something else but Wilbur didn’t let him.

“I’m going to take a shower.” Wilbur said, walking past the blonde and into the house, ignoring the blonde’s cry of “ Wilbur !”

The name didn’t even make him react like it used to.

After taking a shower, he stepped out, throwing on a pair of underwear and pants before pausing in front of the mirror, towel on his head as he stared down at his arm.

On his left arm was a barely visible scar, still slowly healing and now almost completely gone. He stared at it, barely able to make out the ‘W’ it showed, and wondered what it was meant to be…

‘W’... ‘W’... What did it mean?

Almost at once the meaning hit him, and his breathing stuttered, catching in his throat, eyes widening slightly, fists clenching.

Right… I’m Wilbur. He thought to himself, using his right hand to trace the scar before it faded completely, leaving no sign it was ever there in the first place. I’m—I’m Wilbur. That’s my name… I’m Wilbur, not Techno. I’m Wilbur, I’m Wilbur, I̵'̨m҉ ̷̛͡W̴̴͜i͏̧lb͏͜u͝r͢͠—

His breathing now picking up rapidly, he hurried to his bedroom, pulling open the top drawer and rummaging through it before pulling out his dagger, bringing the blade to his skin and etching the ‘W’ into his skin, making sure to cut into his arm deeply so that the wound didn’t heal over immediately.

Despite the strength he used and how deeply he cut, blood pouring out, the wound closed up instantly, though the scar itself was still somewhat visible to the naked eye, though he knew it would heal within the next few days.

He stared at it, repeating his name in his head over and over again, desperate to remember his own name, to not let himself be lost despite everything, but he knew. He knew that he had already forgotten who he was long, long ago. It was a simple daydream, a wishful fantasy, for him to even bother to try and keep even his name in his memory.

No one called him by that name anymore, anyway.

“Wil?” A small voice called out to him, and Wilbur slowly turned around to see Tommy at his door, eyes traveling down to his arm before widening in shock and horror at the amount of blood still there, still dripping, but no open wound to be seen.

The teen hurried to his side, grabbing his arm, panickedly asking, “Wil, are you okay—” He cut himself off when he noticed the faint ‘W’ on the man’s arm, and his expression grew pained, crystal blue eyes gleaming with tears as he gently tightening his grip on the man’s arm. “Oh, Wil…”

Wil… Wil… Oh, that’s right. He’s Wil.

Wilbur.

He’s Wilbur.

He was Wilbur… right?

“I’m so sorry, Wil.” Tommy whispered, broken and filled with so much sadness, but Wilbur didn’t really understand. Why was he sorry? He’s alright.

Besides, Wilbur was—oh, right. He’s Wilbur.

He’s Wilbur… He’s Wilbur… He’s…

He’s…

Tommy hugged him, resting his head on the man’s shoulder, and Wilbur stood there blankly as he felt warm teardrops fall onto his skin.

Even his usual touch repulsion didn’t come up, and Wilbur was too numb to feel much anyway.

“Don’t do that anymore, Wil.” Tommy whispered, tightening his hold on the pink-haired man. “I’ll remind you as many times as you need. You don’t… You don’t need to do that anymore.”

Remind him of what?

“You’re Wilbur.” Tommy told him. “You’re not Techno. You’re Wilbur .”

Oh, right. He was…

“You’re Wilbur.”

He’s Wilbur.

“You’re Wilbur.”

He’s Wilbur.

“You’re Wilbur.”

He’s…

“You’re Wilbur.”

…

“You’re Wilbur.”

…

But… was he?

He let Tommy repeat that phrase over and over again, growing number and number to it as time went on.

He’s Wilbur… He’s Wilbur… He’s…

…

…

Who…

Who is he?

He’s not sure he knows anymore.

-

“Seems that the big fighting competition is happening again tomorrow.” Sam said, looking over at Techno, who had paused his reading.

Over these past fourteen years, neither of them had managed to see hide nor hair of either Phil or Wilbur, each time reaching a deadend with their search and grabbing at scraps where they could.

Of course Techno still wanted to find his brother, but after year after year of having something only to wind up back at square one again… Even he understood that he had little to no hope of finding his family ever again.

Honestly, they probably weren’t even on the same server anymore, probably having hopped to a different one after Techno’s “death”, and they were simply chasing after a fruitless hope all this time.

And, if that were the case, Techno would have no chance of finding them anyways.

Besides, after years of being on the road, their money was quickly depleting and, while he never said it, Sam did seem to want to settle down in one place, just relax and enjoy life.

Techno couldn’t take that away from him, not after everything he’d done for him.

Sam insisted it was fine, but after seven years of nothing, Techno finally told him they should call it off.

“I don’t think they’re here anymore.” Techno had said. “Even then, they’ve probably moved on from me already. I don’t want to ruin that by bursting into their lives if they are still here.”

Sam gave him a sad look but relented, and the two of them finally settled down in a fairly small village.

Techno, while not the most talkative person, managed to still help out when Sam opened up his own business of making simple redstone machines to help with everyday life, able to greet and support customers when needed though he still didn’t really talk much.

He didn’t really have any friends, but that was alright, even if Sam didn’t think so.

It wasn’t his fault there weren’t any teens around his age in this village to start with, anyway.

So, Techno spent most of his time reading, tending to the crops and animals, and even dabbling in redstone machinery every once in a while as well, though he didn’t bother with the more complicated stuff.

Sam never pressured him to do anything and was even very supportive of Techno suggesting he wanted to open a library, seeing as how the town didn’t have one and he had plenty of books to spare from their years of traveling.

So, the older man not only helped him build it but also helped him decorate it and sort the books, and Techno couldn’t be happier to call someone like him family.

Now twenty four years old, Techno was content with his life, still feeling like he was missing something, or some one , and knowing full well what it was but unable to do anything about it anyway.

He had his own little cabin next to his dad’s, owned a library where the villagers would greet him warmly and openly each time they came and visited, and life was overall fairly well for him.

So, when Sam came over to the library for a visit, talking about the fighting competition had been one of the last things the pink-and-brown haired man expected.

“Is it?” He asked, thinking. “I suppose it is. What about it?”

Sam smiled at him. “Well, wouldn’t you like to go? It’s just in the next town over—I’m sure you can do with going out for a little bit.”

Techno rolled his eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

His dad laughed lightly, pushing his shoulder gently. “I’m saying you need to go out and get some fresh air. You’ve been stuck in this tiny village for seven years and haven’t even made a single friend yet. You need to get out and put yourself out there!”

“I’m fine, dad .” Techno drawled, but he couldn’t help the small smile crawling onto his face.

“Besides, I’m sure you’re interested in it as well.” Sam said, eyes crinkling with mirth as Techno pouted slightly. “I know you don’t really like fighting, but I know you still enjoy watching people fight, and this event only happens once every ten years. Also, I heard the infamous ‘Blood God’ is participating again this time.”

Techno paused.

Sam was right—while he had no real interest in fighting, he still enjoyed watching others fight from time to time, even casually keeping up with his own training every now and again just as a means to protect himself if need be.

Not only that, but because he had been so focused on finding Wilbur, he had missed out on the Blood God’s debut and by the time news of that even reached them, there were no more newspapers or articles displaying their image or even talking about them anymore, simply forgetting about them as more news constantly streamed in.

So all Techno knew were bits and pieces of rumors that the Blood God was someone who had only been barely fourteen, maybe fifteen, at the time, being the youngest to take the title of Champion while easily beating out the competition.

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t pique his interest…

“Alright.” Techno sighed, pointedly ignoring the man’s knowing smirk. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to go just this once.”

“Good!” Sam cheered, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll go with you, too, so you won’t be alone.” He teased.

“Get out.” Techno deadpanned, trying, and failing, to fight back a fond smile as his dad laughed, waving him goodbye and leaving.

Techno looked out the window, watching as the sun slowly began to set.

Well, it’s only one day. He thought to himself, getting ready to close the library for the night, locking the door as he left. I’m sure it’ll be fine.

As he got to his house, he made himself dinner and went to sleep early, knowing full well Sam will come waking him up early in the morning tomorrow, one last thought on his mind:

Besides, what could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Text

When tomorrow, the day of the tournament, finally began, Phil had woken Wilbur up extremely early as he did every tournament day, when the sun hadn’t even begun to peek over the horizon, to get one last “training session” in before he had to go.

Once hours had passed and it was just an hour or so away from the tournament to begin would they stop and Wilbur would be hurried to get ready as soon as possible so they could arrive earlier than the rest, changed into the “appropriate attire”.

Since Wilbur had gone through this his entire life, participating in many fighting events and tournaments both big and small, he had grown used to this, even developing insomnia at a young age and able to function well enough on roughly three hours of sleep, though he was fine if he only had one for a long time if need be.

Tommy was understandably upset at Phil for forcing Wilbur through this, and extremely worried for his brother’s wellbeing. Wilbur didn’t say anything, but the light pat on the blonde’s shoulder meant more than anything he could have ever possibly said—he was alright, and he’d be fine.

Not that Tommy believed him, but he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

As the pink-haired man donned a white ruffled shirt, black pants, black boots that settled just below the knees and a flowing red cape, he appeared just as he always had during these tournaments: elegant, royal . An air of regal superiority in his stance and expression that, while blank, gave those a feeling that he was looking down on them.

Finishing it all off with a skull boar mask sat atop his nose, covering the upper half of his face, his eyes flashed red before disappearing into darkness, no longer able to be seen.

He grabbed his sword, settling it in its sheath at his hip, and his axe, putting it in its place on his back underneath his cape, and his preparations were complete.

This wasn’t a look he’d come up with—it was something Phil had done for him all those years ago, at the ripe age of eleven, when Wilbur was forced to participate in his first tournament.

He had just barely begun to live as Techno and was still pretty bad at fighting but Phil was determined to get him more “real world experience”, and so he was thrust into a fairly small local tournament in the town they were staying at during that time.

Dressed in attire that one would see on a noble instead of a warrior or even everyday swordsman, Wilbur had known that the only reason he had done it was because Techno, during the time he disappeared, had become slightly interested in such clothing and had quite a few more “classy” clothing as well, and Phil had refused to let go of the style ever since.

So, while Wilbur’s wardrobe now consisted entirely of fancy shirts, pants, and boots, his “fighting clothes” were always the same—a white ruffled shirt, black pants and boots with a red cape.

Again, it was a particular set Techno had been interested in when he was still around and apparently thought that, if he ever had to fight, he “at least wanted to look cool while doing it”.

So Wilbur, a freshly minted pseudo-Techno, was forced into those clothes, for his size at that age, of course, and pushed into the arena with men well over half his size and plenty with muscles bigger than his head.

Safe to say he returned home more than a little bruised after that one, much to Phil’s disappointment.

He was given a harsher “training schedule” after that, which was set in place as soon as he got home, mostly because his wounds had mostly healed by then, thanks to his enhanced healing ability.

Speaking of which…

How he got that was something he didn’t like remembering about.

But, when he got to the stadium, ushered inside by happy and eager knights overseeing the tournament, leading him to the dining hall where all the other participants would be.

Phil and Tommy followed him just as they’d done last time, though Phil didn’t stay long and broke off to chat with some of the knights, what they were talking about something Wilbur and Tommy felt they had some ideas on but didn’t vocalize.

Wilbur stayed off by himself with only Tommy by his side, the blonde eager to keep others away from his brother, though the pink-haired man’s aura alone was enough for such a thing by itself. He appreciated the teen’s help nonetheless, as he didn’t really want to deal with anyone brave enough to approach him anyway.

In fact, the only person willing to come up to the duo was Dream himself, the older blonde beaming at them as he walked over with a tray of food, drink in his other hand, and pretty much bounding with inexhaustible energy.

“Tommy! Techno!” He called out, Tommy waving at him while Wilbur gave him a small nod of acknowledgement. “Finally decided to show up, huh?”

Tommy rolled his eyes with a huff, giving Phil a not-so-subtle glare as he said, “ someone thought getting in another ‘training lesson’ before the asscrack of dawn was a good idea.”

Dream’s expression twitched, and he gave the boys’ father a sidelong glance before returning his electric green gaze to them, his smile returning, albeit slightly strained this time. “Ah. That sucks, man.”

He obviously had more to say, but, as to not make a scene, he held back, and both of them knew it, the look in his eyes torn between worry for Wilbur and absolute disgust for Phil.

“It’s fine.” Wilbur was the one to speak this time, ignoring the concern the other two sent him as he did so. “It doesn’t hurt to warm up before a tournament, regardless.”

Tommy opened his mouth to retort but, with a simple tilt of the head from Wilbur, he bit his tongue, though he still looked extremely miffed about the whole thing.

Dream, the slightly more rational of the two blondes, decided to gently change the subject, looking around at the competition as he said, “it looks much more packed than last time.”

Wilbur hummed—he wasn’t wrong. While this tournament was fairly large in the first place, being one of the biggest events in the server, this one’s participation seemed to skyrocket since last time.

“Apparently people were super eager to see the infamous Blood God.” Tommy said, shaking his head. “Isn’t it the same every time Techno goes to a tournament? It gets leaked because they’re public signups and everyone rushes over to sign up as well and get firsthand experience with the Blood God himself. It’s gotten kind of old at this point, honestly.”

Dream laughed while Wilbur stayed silent, both of them aware that was, in fact, the case. No matter which tournament Wilbur participated in, big or small, the sign up sheets would be flooded over once it was discovered he was participating. The pink-haired man didn’t care one way or another, as he felt towards most things, and Dream only ever seemed amused by it all, even teasing him over his “celebrity status”.

As the three of them chatted, a waiter walked over, tray in hand, and stopped just in front of them, trembling.

They all turned to look at them, and Wilbur noticed their body was positioned towards him so he assumed they were there for him, much to his annoyment.

However, just as always, Tommy noticed and took the reins for him, saying, “hey. What do you want?”

The waiter flinched, looking everywhere but at them, though they still had a job to do so they nervously raised the tray in their hands, gently motioning it towards Wilbur. “S-Someone ordered a tray for the B-Blood God, sir…”

How they stuttered over the title “Blood God” was almost amusing, but Wilbur was used to it, with almost everyone fearing him and his title and such things being a regular occurrence whenever someone did manage to talk to him. Regardless, he looked down at the plate offered and froze, Tommy glancing down and his expression darkened almost immediately.

Dream seemed confused by their reactions, though only he and Tommy noticed how stiff Wilbur had turned, looking down at the tray and back over at Tommy, as if quietly asking “what’s wrong?”

Tommy slowly forced a smile on his face, pointing at the tray. “Is that… chicken?”

The waiter paused for a moment, seemingly thrown off by his question. “I… yes?”

“Chicken. I asked if the meat on that tray was chicken.” Tommy repeated, a bit more forcefully this time.

“Huh? O-Oh, yes! Yes! I-It’s chicken. Golden-feather chicken, in fact. We prepared it specifically for this tournament…” They told him, not-so-subtly glancing over at Wilbur, the meaning behind their words obvious.

Golden-feathered chickens were rare. So rare, in fact, that you had to travel to servers with some of the harshest heats and driest, barest lands to even catch a glimpse of one. Even if you managed to spot one, catching it was an entirely different story. They were slippery at best and extremely hostile at worst, even managing to kill a fair handful of hunters looking to catch them.

However, their meat was said to be one of the most flavorful, succulent meats out there, a delicacy only those of the highest honor were able to enjoy.

It seemed that someone had not only managed to get their hands on one of those said chickens but also served it during this stadium’s pre-tournament lunch.

Normally, this would be seen as a grand gesture of goodwill, an open hand of friendship. However, for Wilbur, this was something he would never be able to accept.

Tommy knew this, and knew why he couldn’t, but he had no idea how to handle this situation. If it were anything else, he could just say “no, thank you”, and that’d be that. But, this was the golden-feathered chicken , something that he couldn’t just turn down, at least not without a good enough reason. And, while he believed Wilbur’s reason was more than enough, he wasn’t about to out his brother to a whole group of people like that.

All eyes on the trio, piercing into their very skin, Wilbur snapped out of his trance-like state and slowly accepted the tray, much to Tommy’s horror and Dream’s slight confusion.

“I see. Thank you.” Wilbur told the waiter, who looked more than relieved and hurriedly scampered off.

“W—Techno—” Tommy began, but Dream didn’t give him a chance to continue.

“Golden-feathered chicken, huh? Seems they brought out the fancy stuff this time.” Dream whistled, clearly impressed. “Now that I think about it, you ate just regular chicken last time, right?”

How he remembered such a seemingly inconsequential thing neither brother knew, but Tommy flinched faintly at his words while Wilbur stared down at the meat on the tray, his expression unable to be seen behind his mask and thinned lips.

With everyone’s eyes on him, he knew he couldn’t just not eat it, but… He paused those unnecessary thoughts, closing his eyes and taking in a low, deep, breath, the overwhelming scent of the chicken wafting into his nose as he picked up the fork and began to eat, slowly and deliberately, Tommy’s worried gaze on him the entire time.

As he chewed leisurely, making sure to not be too fast and to take his time so that everyone knew he’d truly tasted the meat, one by one the eyes that had locked on him slowly moved away, and soon they were left alone, everyone else once again focused on their own groups and conversations.

Wilbur handed the empty plate to Tommy, who immediately waved over a waiter to take it away before turning towards his brother once more, blue eyes carefully examining him.

Dream seemed curious about what he’d just eaten as well, though he was much more calm and casual about it, asking, “hey, don’t just leave us hanging, man. How’d it taste?”

It took a few moments for Wilbur to speak, and once he did, his voice was a slightly lower pitch than usual, and his words sounded more forced than normal as he said: “... Strong.”

“What?” Dream was confused, unsure of what he meant, but Tommy barreled in before he could ask any more questions, grabbing Wilbur’s hand.

“Hey, Tech, I’m bored. Let’s go and take a walk, yeah?” Tommy asked, though it was rhetorical as he was already dragging the pink-haired man towards the door and out of the room.

“Wha—Hey! At least be back before the tournament begins!” Dream called out but didn’t go after them, seeming to understand their need to be alone together.

Wilbur didn’t say anything as Tommy led him down the halls and towards the nearest bathroom, pushing the man inside as he slammed the door shut behind them.

Calmly, as if unaffected by what was currently happening, Wilbur walked over to the toilet and fell to his knees before eventually heaving, emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl, the bitter sting of bile and nauseating sweetness of the chicken mixing together crudely on his tongue.

Tommy stood by the door, knowing Wilbur wouldn’t appreciate any of his touches, especially during this time, just letting his brother vomit the chicken back up, a pained expression on his face.

After what felt like hours, Wilbur finally stopped, panting, slowly rising back up to his feet and walking over to the sink to wash his face after flushing the toilet so that they weren’t assaulted with the stench for any longer.

The two of them didn’t say anything the entire time, already having gone through something similar the first time they’d been here, and Tommy was now much more capable of handling the situation than before.

Once Wilbur felt refreshed enough, they left, making their way to a remote corner and Wilbur sat down, Tommy sitting down right next to him.

A few minutes of silence between them, both of them just enjoying each other’s company, before Wilbur spoke up, quiet and a bit hoarse, but Tommy heard it all the same: “... I think my braid’s been messed up.”

Tommy looked over to see his brother not looking at him, but he understood what he meant anyway. A small, yet sad, smile graced the blonde’s face as he nodded. “I’ll help you fix it, yeah?”

Scooting behind the man, he undid the braid, running his fingers through the man’s hair to straighten out his long hair before redoing the braid once more, the feeling of his hair being gently tugged and pulled a soothing sensation for Wilbur as he slowly began to relax.

It was something the two had figured out helped Wilbur any time something like this happened, though, of course, the first time Tommy had seen it happen was during this exact same tournament ten years prior, and it had ended fairly horribly for both of them.

The entire point of this was to rid Wilbur of the unpleasant memories that would resurface every time he was unfortunate enough to eat the flesh of any bird, chicken in particular as they had roughly the same texture and flavor as…

Closing his eyes, Wilbur was once again forced to relieve one of the more traumatic experiences he’d ever been through.

“... Dad, what’s this?” Ten year old Wilbur had asked as he looked down at his plate, the unfamiliar pinkish meat on it staring back at him.

Phil smiled at him happily, standing next to him as he set a hand on his shoulder, seemingly eager and proud to show off his work to his son. “Remember the firebird you caught?”

Wilbur instinctually wanted to remind Phil that it was Techno who caught it, not him, but he smartly kept his mouth shut, instead simply nodding in response.

“And remember how I said eating it can give someone immortality?” Phil continued, even more eager than before.

The boy wasn’t all too sure what “immortality” meant, but he guessed it was probably a good thing, and super important, based on how awed and happy his dad seemed while saying it.

“Well, those are mostly legends, but it wouldn’t hurt to try, right?” Phil asked, though Wilbur knew he wasn’t meant to answer as the man continued on before he could regardless. “Besides, you’re the one who caught it—to the victor goes the spoils, after all.”

Wilbur was confused on what he was saying, but since it was dinner and his dad seemed to had made it specifically for him—or, well, the him who he thought was Techno, he couldn’t really afford to say no.

So, he ate it, pleasantly surprised by the taste—it kind of tasted like chicken. But, like, a sweeter chicken. It was tasty.

“How is it?” Phil asked, and Wilbur looked up at him, giving his father a small smile, trying his best to keep it as close as to what he remembered Techno’s smiles to be.

“It’s good.” Was all he said, knowing full well how little Techno tended to talk.

“Good! I wasn’t too sure how to make it, since I’ve never had any before, obviously, but it seems to work just like a somewhat thinner chicken.” Phil nodded, and, once again, Wilbur didn’t really understand him, so he just kept silent, finishing his meal and only belatedly realizing that Phil didn’t have any with him.

“... Dad, why didn’t you have any?” He found himself asking after his father took his plate and put it in the sink.

“Hm? Oh, there wasn’t enough meat for two people.” Phil told him. “Besides, it was your kill. Can’t steal any of my champion’s prey, now can I?”

Wilbur once again decided not to comment on Phil mistaking him for Techno.

The two of them went to bed, and Wilbur quickly wound up forgetting all about the meal, believing it was just one of many. Not too special or out of the ordinary…

It was around two weeks later when Wilbur noticed something strange about his body.

He was training with Phil, holding on to an iron sword as the man showed him how to properly hold it, and, as Wilbur was pretty clumsy and not quite used to holding such a heavy weapon, his grip slipped and the blade wound up slicing into the palm of his left hand as he instinctively went to grab it after it fell.

Letting out a cry, and pulled his hand back and the sword clattered as it fell to the ground. Phil let out a sigh, shaking his head as he walked over to him, gently grabbing his hand and prying open the fingers that had closed around the cut.

“Hm… It doesn’t seem too bad. I’ll go grab a bandage—stay here, and don’t move.” Phil told him, letting his hand go and walking away.

Wilbur felt the cut was a bit deeper than the other ones he’d gotten, and there was a fair amount of blood coming from it, but he assumed his father knew what he was talking about so he stayed silent and just stood there, waiting.

After about a minute or two, Wilbur glanced down at his hand out of curiosity and found that the cut had somehow gotten smaller than it was previously. Not all too much smaller, but definitely visibly enough to notice if you were paying attention, and Wilbur had.

The cut wasn’t that small when he got it.

Confused, he simply waited for his dad to get back with some bandages and wet towel, letting his father clean off the wound as he said, “hey, Dad?”

“Yeah mate?”

“I think the cut’s smaller than it was before.”

Phil paused, glancing up at Wilbur’s face before looking back down at the cut, examining it closely.

Sure enough, during the entire time, from the moment the sword slit his palm to now, the cut had slowly gotten smaller. Not nearly anywhere close to healed but just enough for it to be noticeably different from before.

Wilbur watched as his father’s eyes widened, a strange look passing through those pale blue orbs as they looked back up at the brunette. “Th-This is… And you’re sure it wasn’t this small when you got it, right?”

When he nodded, Phil let out a strange laugh, the fingers gripping his hand tightening slightly, and Wilbur winced as his cut was pulled and his father’s fingernails dug into his skin slightly. “Dad…?”

“It was real… It was real…” Phil whispered to himself, seemingly caught up in his own world. Wilbur went to call out to him again when the man’s head snapped up, startling him. “We have to see if it’s actually real. This might be a fluke.”

Wilbur wanted to ask his dad what he was talking about, but Phil simply got to his feet, pulling the boy back into the house and into the kitchen, setting the boy down on a chair as he rummaged through the drawers. The ten year old watched as his father pulled out a knife, and a sense of impending dread slowly sunk in his stomach as the man turned back towards him.

“D-Dad?” Wilbur stuttered quietly, glancing between the knife and his father. “Wh-What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, Tech.” Phil cooed at him gently, kneeling in front of the boy as he met him at eye level. “It’ll only hurt for a little bit, I promise.”

“Dad—?” Wilbur watched as his father grabbed his arm, instinctively trying to pull it back but the man’s grip only tightened, leaving him unable to move it.

His eyes widened in horror as he watched the knife in his father’s other hand slowly inch towards his skin, and he completely forgot about imitating Techno, kicking and screaming as he tried to break free of his father’s grasp.

“Wait, no, please, no, Dad, please —” Wilbur begged, his legs pinned to the chair by his father’s knees as the man ignored his cries. “I-I’m sorry, please, no, please, Dad—Dad— Dad —”

Phil seemed to be unable to hear him as he ignored his pleas and cries, simply lowering the knife and gently nicking the skin, not deep enough to bleed but enough to leave a mark.

The small sting of pain jolted Wilbur, and he was slightly confused as to what was going on, stopping his struggles as he didn’t feel much pain. In fact, it only felt like a light graze or even a small bite—nothing too serious.

Both of them watched in awe and amazement as the shallow cut healed almost instantly, stunning both of them into silence.

“This… It’s real… It’s real!” Phil cheered, startling Wilbur and he watched as he dad lifted and moved his arm about, poking and prodding at it to make sure the wound was no longer there. “This is amazing…! To think the firebird can actually…” His voice lowered into a mumbled mess, something Wilbur couldn’t quite decipher, but felt the excitement and giddiness from his father rub off on him.

However, he didn’t get a chance to enjoy such happiness when Phil’s attention returned back to him, and a strange feeling of dread loomed over him once more at his father’s slightly crazed smile.

“Do you know what this means, Techno?” Wilbur slowly shook his head. “This… This means you’re immortal! You—We can do so much with this.” Rising to his feet, he put the knife away, instead dragging the boy outside once more. “Now that we know the firebird’s powers are real, I think you can handle harsher training. C’mon, get the sword. Let’s get going!”

Wilbur had no idea what was going on but did as he was told anyway.

If only he knew what was about to come.

Wilbur fell to his knees, panting, body aching and stinging, finally set free from Phil’s “training” for the day.

Ever since finding out Wilbur had begun to heal faster than your average human, Phil had become more and more ruthless as time went on, and the more Wilbur was injured the faster and faster his wounds and injuries would heal.

It had been almost two and a half years since that day, and Wilbur finally got a dictionary, shakily flipping through it, ignoring his body’s protests as he felt his skin stitch itself back together and his broken bones creak and crackle as they mended themselves, his bruises quickly fading away, always the first of his injuries to heal.

Landing on the page he was looking for, he slowly looked through the words until landing on the one he was looking for:

im·mor·tal·i·ty

/ˌi(m)ˌmôrˈtalədē/

the ability to live forever; eternal life.

… He sat there, letting his mind process what he was seeing, until it all finally hit him at once and he rushed to the bathroom, sticking his face into the toilet bowl, his stomach emptying itself of all of its content, tears streaming down his face as his body trembled violently.

Immortal… He was immortal, now. He couldn’t… He couldn’t die. But, he didn’t want this . He didn’t want to be immortal.

The bird… It was because of the firebird.

Wilbur was now immortal because he’d eaten the firebird’s meat.

Once he was done vomiting, he just sat there, crying, the bitter taste of acid on his tongue, a vaguely sweet aftertaste making him feel like throwing up all over again.

“... ilbur… Wilbur?”

Wilbur blinked, turning his head slightly to the side to see Tommy staring at him worriedly.

Tommy’s lips were pursed, a frown on his face, eyes shining with concern, but he said gently, in a soft tone, “are you okay?”

Taking a few moments to collect himself, Wilbur nodded.

The blonde clearly didn’t seem to believe him but didn’t say anything, instead saying, “the tournament’s about to begin.”

Being reminded of where he was in the first place, both brothers got up, walking back to the dining hall. Wilbur felt his braid hit his back gently, the luscious pink locks hanging just above the heels of his feet, and he dug his fingernails into the skin of his palms, driving away the memories that threatened to come up once more.

The taste left on his tongue felt nauseatingly sweet.

-

When they got there, the stadium was almost completely full, people crowding together so closely you could practically feel their breath on you.

Techno had gotten used to physical contact over the years, Sam being a big help in that with his habit of wrapping an arm around his shoulders, a pat on his head or back and the like. He was a touchy-feely kind of guy, and you really kind of had to get used to it after all that.

Not that he was complaining—the only other person he could stand physical contact with was Wilbur so it was fairly useful to at least be able to give a stranger a handshake when you meet them instead of just staring at their hand like an idiot.

Regardless, he still felt a bit uncomfortable being so closely crammed together with other people.

Pushing their way through the crowds, they finally found a relatively people-free spot, making themselves comfortable as they sat down, peering down at the arena below.

“Seems like they’re not quite ready yet.” Sam said, looking around at the large mass of people. “Though it seems people are still fairly restless. Well, I can’t really blame them. The infamous ‘Blood God’ is participating, after all.”

Techno didn’t respond, but internally he was curious as to who this mysterious “Blood God” was for so many people to come out and see them in person.

Despite staying away from things like fighting events and tournaments, Techno has heard the title Blood God every now and again, the topic so overtly popular that it landed in the laps of those who couldn’t care less about those sorts of things.

And it wasn’t like Techno wasn’t interested or curious—quite the opposite, in fact. While he didn’t really fight unless necessary, he still kept up his training and made sure his skills were still relatively sharp… no pun intended.

Anyway, because he still enjoyed the feeling of a sword in hand or the sound of an arrow flying through the air from time to time, he never felt it was too much of a bother to at least keep doing them as a small hobby.

So hearing about someone so strong they’d defeated grown men when they were barely in their teens was definitely a story Techno wanted to know more about.

Unfortunately, despite the Blood God participating in multiple tournaments that were all free for public viewing, not much was known about them other than their appearance, and even then the only thing Techno managed to get out was “long pink hair” and “a white skull boar mask”, two things that seemed fairly contradictory but, hey, he used to have a full head of pink hair and considered pretty intimidating, too, so he couldn’t judge.

A roaring cheer snapped him from his thoughts and he looked to see the tournament officially beginning.

“Looks like things are finally getting started.” Sam said, and despite being right next to the man, Techno couldn’t actually hear what he said, instead the sound melding together with the screams and cheers of the crowd, but he felt he could get the gist of what he was saying.

Techno didn’t even bother responding, knowing the older man probably wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway, and both of them silently watched the fighting begin, the uproarious applause from the crowd almost deafening.

The first few fights were nothing special, just two people standing in the center of the area, the referee shouting “go!” and both of them pulled out their swords to fight.

Nothing groundbreaking happened and no one matching the Blood God’s description showed up after around thirty minutes, and Techno was honestly getting a little bored. He tried to keep himself entertained by pointing out the flaws each fighter made: one was too stiff in movement, one was too fluid to take proper stance once off balance, one gripping their sword too tightly, one gripping theirs too lightly, one not blocking properly and one not taking proper advantage of available blindspots.

As he was beginning to wonder if the Blood God being there was a joke or hoax to try and gather more people to attend, fighting back a yawn, the next set of fighters were being announced, and the one everyone had impatiently been waiting for was finally announced:

“To the left, we have our elegant, powerful, unstoppable warrior, back to keep hold of the crown he had taken all those years ago with an iron grip—please welcome the Blood God!”

Techno sat up, all previous sleepiness gone without a trace, hawk-like gaze focused solely on the person coming out.

What he saw shocked him to his core—long pink hair braided down to the heels of his feet, regal attire much too pompous to fit in something as grimy as a fighting tournament, and that eerie skull boar mask covering the top half of his face, his eyes hidden behind endless darkness…

It looked like something out of his ten year old childish fantasies. In fact, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was an alternate reality version of him or something. It was both cringey and awe-inspiring—despite how clearly out of place the man walking out looked, his presence demanded your attention. You just simply couldn’t look away from him, and when your eyes landed on him, you were immediately hit with a wave of fear and dread, as if you were looking at the body of a beast instead of a human.

He felt Sam do a full body shiver, and he knew the man was just as affected by the Blood God’s presence as he was, if not more so. The entire stadium went silent upon his arrival, and you could hear a quill drop in all the eerie quiet, so Techno was perfectly able to hear Sam’s whisper, especially since it felt like it was right in his ear as he spoke.

“So that’s the Blood God, huh. Certainly lives up to his name.” Sam breathed out, and Techno could only agree.

However, that man… He felt familiar, somehow, and he didn’t mean just based on appearances. Techno felt as if he knew him, on a personal level. As if he’d met him somewhere before… Well, he was probably just imagining it.

Regardless, he never imagined he’d see a real life version of his childish delusions. It’s quite a humbling experience.

He also realized that the announcer didn’t say the man’s name—it was probably intentional, as the Blood God guy didn’t seem like the type of person to want his name to be printed all over the newspapers for the entire server, and even outside servers, to see.

As soon as the man stopped walking, the stadium erupted into an even louder roar, and Techno was not only surprised it could even possibly get any louder, but also that his eardrums didn’t instantly explode once it did.

The Blood God’s opponent was introduced, but not only did the crowd not seem to care, but the announcer also only gave their name and that was it. Techno wasn’t entirely sure if such blatant favoritism was allowed or not, but he couldn’t exactly say anything otherwise so he didn’t mention it.

Once the ref said “go!”, the fight was over before it even started.

With once fell swing, the Blood God knocked his opponent out of the arena before they even got a chance to blink.

Techno’s eyes widened, not even having seen the man move before he was right in front of his opponent, and the crowd cheered loudly, the Blood God not even giving the person he knocked away a second glance before walking off, letting the next pair enter.

The pink-and-brown-haired man frowned slightly at his unsportsmanship-like conduct but otherwise was overwhelmed by the absolute power he’d displayed.

Over the next couple of hours, the rest of the battles involving the Blood God went mostly the same.

Techno could see he valued speed and agility over raw strength, though even then he was leaps and bounds of the realm of normal humans with his strength.

In fact, over the course of the tournament, Techno felt that the man was making his fights last a tad longer and longer, but not because he was growing fatigued or tired.

No, it felt more… sinister . It was almost as if… he was toying with them.

Blocking a move only to throw them away, jump around for a few seconds before knocking them out, even intentionally missing a hit to make them believe he was weakened... 

The man was playing with them, and Techno knew Sam could feel it as well.

Instead of the absolute boredom that was almost pouring out of him in the beginning, Techno could almost swear he felt a small trace of bloodlust , of a beast playing with its food before striking.

It sent a shiver down his spine, and he got a bad feeling as the final match was being called…

Out came the Blood God and Dream, both of which were monsters in their own right and absolutely dominating the tournament, no one else even coming close to their level.

Dream had started walking up to the center of the arena casually, looking around the crowd, however, once he laid eyes on the Blood God, his stance immediately changed to one of caution and worry… Maybe they were friends? Acquaintances?

Whatever they were, it seems that the Blood God didn’t normally act this way, and that only served to strengthen the bad feeling Techno was having.

“Ready?” The referee, blissfully unaware of the impending storm, just carried on as usual, the same blissfully ignorant crowd cheering on in the background. “Go!”

The sound of something similar to crackling thunder erupted, a sonic wave thrusting everyone back, most people even flying out of their seats, and Techno could barely keep himself and Sam from falling to the same fate, but his eyes were glued on the arena.

It hadn’t even been a second since the ref stopped talking when the Blood God rushed forward, creating a crater in the ground, lunging towards Dream with reckless abandon.

Dream was clearly taken off guard by this but managed to block the attack anyway, and before Techno knew it everyone was running away, screaming in terror, as the two fought, blood spraying and the sound of metal slamming and grinding against each other grating against his ears.

“Everyone, get out! The Blood God has gone insane!” Someone shouted, as if it needed to be said.

Techno had no idea what was going on, but his body moved before he could think, seeing Dream quickly get overwhelmed by the absolute power the Blood God was exuding, Sam calling out his name but was drowned out and swept away by the roaring crowd.

Grabbing a fallen sword by a fleeing knight, Techno hurried to the arena, hoping to all the gods out there that he wouldn’t be too late.

Chapter Text

Boring.

Boring, boring, boring, boring, boring .

Coming into this tournament, Wilbur didn’t hold any high expectations for the competition to be anything noteworthy, but he never thought they’d be even weaker than he imagined.

Why? He thought that, with so many people, surely there’d be someone worth fighting…

Boring.

Boring, boring, boring, boring, b̡͝o̴҉r̸i͞n̛g —

Why were they so weak? This wasn’t enough…

Not enough, not enough, not enough, not enough, not enough .

Weak, weak, weak, weak, weak—they’re all so weak.

His blood began to boil, heart pumping, something in his very soul telling him—no, demanding him to fight.

He doesn’t… He doesn’t want…

But, he’s so bored. And everyone’s so weak .

Wilbur laid eyes upon his next opponent, and his blood roared in his body, excitement coursing through him as he recognized the familiar sight of Dream.

Worthy…

Worthy, worthy, worthy, worthy, worthy!

Finally… Finally !

Something in the back of his mind begged him to stop, to not hurt this person, but it was drowned out in the rush of the moment, the mere thought of finally expelling this deadly boredom settling within him.

Gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, Wilbur stared at Dream hungrily, impatiently waiting for the ref to let them start.

“... and, go!”

When those words left the referee’s lips, Wilbur shot forward, mind now completely drowned out in his animalistic desire to hunt .

He felt a part of himself die out inside, but it was hardly important right now.

Wilbur needed to let out this desire surging within him… And he no longer had a choice in the matter.

-

Feet hitting the ground of the arena, kicking up dirt as he did so, Techno rushed forward, legs moving faster as he watched the Blood God’s blade nearly miss Dream’s arm, clearly intent on actually cutting it off.

“W-Wait, hold on!” He could hear the blonde shout, panting heavily, sweat drenching his now-dirtied green hoodie, electric green eyes wide with fear.

Obviously either ignorant to his pleas or ignoring him completely, the Blood God continued his assault, each blow only seeming to grow faster and heavier every second that ticked by.

Techno finally managed to reach them just in time to parry a blow aiming for Dream’s side, his arm tingling and growing numb just from that alone. How Dream was able to handle multiple blows like that in quick succession was a mystery to him but he didn’t have time to dwell on that now.

“Wha—Who are you?” Dream questioned, clearly confused why an attendee would just jump into the arena and try and help against a literal professional fighter, eyes flickering between Techno and the stands.

“No time. Go get help.” Techno snapped, just barely avoiding a swing by rolling to the side, not quite sure if he can handle blocking them without one of his arms snapping like a twig… Damn, he really should have trained more seriously over the years.

“You can’t just—Look, I appreciate the help, but you can’t fight him by yourself.” Dream insisted, successfully kicking the Blood God back as the pink-haired man aimed for him once more.

Was having a conversation in the middle of such a life or death situation a smart idea? Absolutely not, and Techno decided Dream was being a dumbass and thus elected to ignore him, instead doing his best to calculate the Blood God’s movements and the best way to counter them.

Unfortunately for him, the man seemed to have an erratic moveset, switching from heavy swings of a barbarian to elegant movement of a dancer, light yet swift.

In no time at all, the Blood God had both of them pushed into a metaphorical corner, both men losing strength fast and even earning some fairly deep cuts in the process.

Techno was certain his thigh felt like it was about to be split into two by the heavy swing he hadn’t managed to dodge in time but did manage to keep his leg mostly intact…

“Listen, we don’t want to fight!” Dream had shouted, swaying slightly on his feet, panting heavily as he looked at the Blood God desperately. “Please, Te—”

The Blood God was merciless, kicking Dream down before the man could finish his sentence, and Techno himself was too tired, too sore to move from his own spot as he watched the pink-haired man stare at Dream, blade still dripping with their blood in hand, time seeming to slow to a snail’s pace.

“P-Please…” Dream breathed out pathetically, looking up at the man with such a hurt gaze that Techno knew there was more of a relationship there than just ‘acquaintances’. “Please… Don’t do this… Techno…”

At that, Techno flinched, eyes widening as his head snapped over to Dream. “What?”

In the corner of his vision, Techno could see the Blood God flinch, ever so slightly, and a sense of dread began to pool in his stomach rapidly. No… No, it can’t…

Quickly, he looked back at the pink-haired man, taking in every little detail he could.

The clothes he was obsessed with for some reason as a kid, the long, lavishly pink hair he used to have up until he was seventeen that he now only kept at a mid-back length brown with a single pink stripe, strange proficiency with a weapon that, now that he thought about it, felt less like a talent refined and more like a skill beaten into a now well-refined soldier…

“Wilbur…?” He whispered, horror dawning on him, and the Blood God paused, slowly turning his head to look at Techno.

Techno couldn’t see his eyes, but he began to see the difference in the man from himself.

The slight wave in the hair he could see via the bangs, the thinner frame to his own, the slight extra boost in height…

This person was just as familiar to him as he was unfamiliar. But… But he still couldn’t be, he couldn’t possibly be…

“Wilbur… is that you?” He asked, ignoring Dream’s questioning gaze on him, simply staring at the man that was almost an exact clone of himself, yet still so starkly different.

He couldn’t see the Blood God’s eyes, but he felt he saw a flash of red in the pitch blackness the sockets of the mask held, but, before he could speak, another voice boomed out, startling him.

“ Wilbur !” A voice screamed, raw and worried, and Techno got a horrifying confirmation when he noticed the Blood God— Wilbur’s head snap up to the stands behind Techno, and Techno looked behind him to see a kid staring down at them.

The kid was blonde with brilliant blue eyes, and he looked scarily enough like Phil that Techno questioned if the man had another kid after Techno was gone but his eyes were so much different that Phil’s.

Instead of indifferent, almost cold, iciness they were warm, a summer’s clear skies instead of a tundra’s freezing winter. His face expressed clear worry, an emotion Phil would never carry, at least never as openly, and he looked at Wilbur like he was the only person there, the only person in the world.

Wilbur looked up at the blonde, unmoving, not saying a word.

“Who’s Wilbur…?” Dream asked, clearly confused but no one bothered answering him, though Techno filed that information in the back of his mind for later.

“Wilbur, enough, alright?” The kid, though more like a late teenager most likely, said, a shaky smile on his lips. “That’s enough. You can stop now. You’ve won, alright?”

Wilbur stared up at him, silent.

“I… I’m coming down, alright?” The teen told him slowly, and Techno was quietly surprised by how well he was handling the situation, all things considering, but… who the hell was he? And why was he acting like he knew Wilbur that well?

Still silent.

Both Techno and Dream watched with bated breath as the teen hopped down into the arena, nearly tripping over his own feet before steadying himself. Taking a deep breath, the blonde slowly began to make his way over to Wilbur, whose gaze was locked on the boy the entire time, not moving a single step from where he stood as the teen walked up to him.

“Wil…?” The teen began slowly, reaching out a hand, and…

A scream.

Primal and beastly, Wilbur fell to his knees, clutching his head as his lungs contracted to let out an ear-piercing screech.

All three of them startled, instinctively moving back to try and get away.

The teen seemed to snap out of it first, and bravely, or stupidly, took another step forward. “Wil, what’s wrong—”

“Don’t.” Wilbur’s voice was scratchy, barely heard over to heavy panting and the way it was whispered, sounding as if he wasn’t used to speaking at all, and Techno’s heart broke at that connotation. “Don’t… come closer…”

“Wilbur, what’s wrong—Are you okay?” The teen tried again, clearly unwilling to give up just like that.

“Tech—Wilbur. Just… Let us help.” Dream tried, and Techno had to commend him on how quickly he was able to accept the knowledge that the man who he had presumably known for a long time wasn’t who he thought he was yet still tried to help…

Speaking of which.

“Wilbur.” All three of them turned to look at him, Wilbur slower than the others. He stared into the black abyss where his brother’s warm brown eyes should have been, a complicated expression on his face as he asked, “you… what happened to you?”

That was the wrong thing to say, as Wilbur quickly shook his head, beginning to mumble incoherently, the only thing they were able to catch was the repeated: “ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry —”

“Wilbur—” Techno tried to reach out for him, but Wilbur slapped his hand away, scrambling to his feet and staggering away.

“I—I’m sorry. I-I can’t… This feeling… It won’t…” He panted, clearly struggling with something.

“Wilbur, what’s wrong?” The blonde teen tried, looking torn between trying to get closer or staying where he was.

“I… I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.” Wilbur gasped. “I don’t… want to hurt… you…”

And with that, Wilbur ran away, all of them screaming out a, “ Wilbur !”

They all ran after him, but Wilbur was already climbing over the walls of the colosseum before they even got halfway across the arena below.

“No… No, no, no, no—not again.” Techno pleaded, feeling his eyes water as he watched his twin run off. “I can’t—Not again. Please , gods—”

“... Techno?”

In the midst of his panic, Techno heard a voice he hadn’t heard in years. A voice that still sounded exactly the way it was the last time he’d heard it all those years ago…

Turning his head, he saw Phil standing in the stands, looking down at him in pure shock, though the teen’s head snapped over to him so quickly he was surprised it didn’t snap… However, he had more important things to worry about.

Neither of them said anything, simply letting their reunion sink in.

After a few minutes of silence, Dream finally broke it by him letting out a snappish:

“Okay… What the hell is going on?”

Techno didn’t answer him, simply staring at Phil, who looked at him with weary light blue eyes.

Phil smiled at him, a smile that used to mean nothing to him now sending a shiver down his spine despite how outwardly warm it seemed. “Welcome home, Tech.”

“Phil.” Techno replied coldly, no in the mood to play his games. “We have a lot to talk about.”