Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER ONE ||
| Mash and the Pardon |

THE story of this book begins… at the end of the journey.

Yes, you heard that right! The now-known Mash Burnedead has saved the world from the clutches of Innocent Zero! The crowd applauds in awe, immediately putting away their pitchforks and torches against the lackmagic. The Bureau of Magic had no choice but to release a new law that’d benefit the hero. A law that states that having no magic is not a crime!

After turning down the chance to be a Divine Visionary, Mash's days at Easton Magic Academy settled into a quirky routine. Amidst a sea of fangirls, Lemon unexpectedly became his stalwart defender against their swooning onslaughts. Lance and Dot continued to bicker near Finn’s ears, and in their dorm room. It was the same, sort of.

“Finn-kun, where are you going?” Mash looked at him. It was already 10 in the evening, so Finn leaving at such a late time was weird.

The half-blonde chuckled, “Oh, nii-sama invited me to stay home over the weekend.”

“Oh.”

“S-Sorry, Mash-kun. I didn’t tell you soon.” He scratched his head, “I’ll make it up to you by bringing back some creampuffs alright!”

So Mash would be alone in the room tonight. Loneliness was nothing new—he was used to it by now. Every time Regro left for food, Mash was left by himself, and the emptiness was a harsh, relentless reality that he was accustomed to. Loneliness is fine… right? 

Yeah… no. He needs company. 

Mash immediately rushed to the room across his. These two should be here over the weekend, right? He won’t be alone for the night, right? As soon as he approached the door, he could not hear even a faint bicker… which was off.

He reached for the door handle, his mind suddenly blank.

“Wait, how do I open a door again?” He muttered to himself, staring at the handle, “Do I push or pull? No, wait, it’s a turn. But which way? Maybe I should try both directions at once…”

He fumbled with the handle, trying to recall the correct motion. “Why is this so complicated? It’s just a door. Just a door. Just… turn it. But which way?” 

“Mash-kun?” A familiar soft voice called out.

There stood Lemon Irvine, carrying boxes of strawberries. Where is she heading with all that in the middle of the night?

“Lemon-chan, can you help me open the door?”

The blonde’s eyes swooned, “Of course, Mash-kun! I’d do anything for the love of my life~! Marry me if I open it, okay?!" She dropped her box and grabbed the handle, twisted it, and…

“It’s locked!” She gasped. “If I can’t open this, we won’t get married! Is this destiny itself fighting back?!”

“Lance-kun and Dot-kun must be in danger,” Mash said, rolling up his sleeves. He pushed Lemon aside and yanked at the wooden door with all his might. With a loud groan, the door came off its hinges, leaving Mash standing there, holding the door like a makeshift shield.

“Ah! It’s empty!” the girl cried out, rushing into the room to search for any clues.

Mash and Lemon spotted a note on the desk. It read: “If you’re reading this, you need to fix the door, Mash. I went home to see the love of my life.”

Below, in jagged handwriting that screamed Dot, it continued: “He means Anna. And I’m also leaving to visit nee-san! Put our door back together, Mash!”

A final note, scrawled in blue ink, added: “This is my note. Get your own paper, idiot.”

“Oh c’mon, we’re saving trees this way. And shut up, pretty boy,” the final line read, with the paper showing signs of a magical duel—burnt and crumpled edges.

“They went home too?” Mash muttered, looking dejected.

Lemon scratched her chin thoughtfully. “I’m going home too, Mash-kun. I’m going to visit my family for a while. What about you?”

Mash’s heart shattered, knowing his four friends were visiting their siblings for the weekend. He would go home too, but Regro said he wouldn’t be home for this week as he was going on a journey for a new creampuff recipe.

“I’m alone.” He frowned.

Ah, loneliness. 

It’s that word again.

Although Mash’s life with his friends was calm and content, a persistent feeling gnawed at him, like a puzzle with a missing piece that made him so lonely. No, It wasn’t magic—he could get by with his muscles alone. No, it wasn’t intelligence—let’s be honest, deep thinking wasn’t really his strong suit, and yet he had survived just fine without being a brainiac.

No, it was something different, something deeper. He watched his friends and saw a warmth in them, a connection they shared that seemed to radiate from within. It wasn’t something you could lift or punch, but it was something real. That was the thing he didn’t have.

But what could it be? What was this elusive feeling he was missing? Why couldn’t he figure it out? What is this warmth that he lacked so much?

"I just want my brothers to get out," Mash said calmly at the press conference, his expression as blank as ever.

The room collectively gasped, jaws dropping, and flashes from cameras exploded like fireworks. Innocent Zero and the Devil’s Quintuplets—well, minus Domina—were all in cuffs, and Mash was casually asking for their release as if he were requesting extra cream puffs.

“You’re asking for criminals to be pardoned?!” A reporter shrieked, thrusting her microphone dangerously close to his face, as though Mash might say something even more ridiculous.

“Ah. Not Innocent Zero. Just my brothers,” Mash didn’t flinch, nor did he blink. “It’s not like they were that bad, right?”

The audience erupted into chaos. One guy in the back fainted, a woman dropped her notebook, and someone else was frantically whispering, “Did he just—he couldn’t be serious, could he?”

Mash, however, just stood there, wondering if there’d be snacks after this.

Ryoh Grantz stepped in front of Mash, trying to push him out of the spotlight. "Okay, okay, that’s enough," He said, his voice strained as he attempted to block Mash from the barrage of questions. But Mash, unfazed, continued answering whatever the press threw at him.

Ryoh turned to him, exasperated. "The Bureau did promise you one thing in exchange for saving the world, but those criminals are not it, mushroom head.”

From the side, Kaldo chuckled. "Come on. Can’t you just ask for a lifetime supply of cream puffs or something?"

Mash frowned, clearly not amused. "I'll fix them."

The room grew silent for a moment as Mash, completely serious, continued. He started convincing the press, Ryoh, and anyone else who would listen that his brothers weren’t really the bad guys. 

“They were just being controlled by Innocent Zero,” He explained, his mind flashing back to Domina. “They're actually good people. Just misunderstood.”

The reporters stared, bewildered, while Ryoh facepalmed in slow motion.

Kaldo shook his head, muttering, "This kid really thinks he can rehab a bunch of world-class villains…"

As Mash kept droning on about how his brothers weren’t really villains, the crowd started getting antsy. A few reporters exchanged glances like, “Is this guy serious?”

One brave soul finally stood up, nearly tripping over their own microphone. “Wait, wait, hold up—you’re saying we should let off a bunch of criminals? You can’t just—”

Another reporter leaned in, whisper-shouting, “Is he crazy? Does he even know what they did? Innocent Zero’s underlings weren’t exactly handing out free hugs!”

The murmurs spread like wildfire. “This is why we can’t trust this lackmagic,” someone hissed from the back, “Just ‘cause they saved the world doesn’t mean they can rewrite the law!”

The crowd was slowly turning hostile, ready to pitchfork Mash’s idea into the nearest dumpster. Cameras clicked furiously, reporters scribbled notes with feverish energy, and the vibe was quickly heading south.

Then, suddenly, the whole room fell silent as a figure materialized behind Mash. Wahlberg. More important than anyone else in the room—heck, probably the whole country. His mere presence sucked the air out of the room, and the once-rowdy crowd collectively froze.

Wahlberg let out a chuckle, "Burnedead’s idea is… entertaining," he said with a grin that made everyone even more uncomfortable. "But I’m open to it."

A tidal wave of gasps washed over the room. The whispers came back, stronger than ever.

“Wahlberg? Open to Mash's plan?”

“He’s lost it. There’s no way he’s fully recovered.”

“First Mash, now Wahlberg? Is this a bad dream?” 

The reporters were on the verge of a meltdown, but Wahlberg raised a hand, silencing them all. “I assure you I’m fully recovered, thank you.” He then shifted his gaze to the young student, “Now, Burnedead… is this really what you want?”

Mash glanced over at his friends, standing by the crowd with their siblings, looking half-concerned, half-hopeful. He scratched his chin, thinking deeply (for Mash, anyway). "You know how a cream puff is really good," he started, his tone completely serious, "But then you bite into it and realize it’s missing the filling? That’s what I feel. My brothers are the filling. Without them, it’s just empty pastry."

The silence in the room was palpable. Every reporter stared at him, utterly baffled. You could practically hear the collective brain cells struggling to process the cream puff analogy. A couple of reporters blinked, trying to figure out if they’d missed something profound or if they’d just witnessed the world’s weirdest metaphor.

One guy whispered, “Is… is he still talking about the criminals?”

But Wahlberg, in all his wisdom, just smiled. He understood Mash in a way no one else could. Nodding sagely, Wahlberg turned to the crowd. “Very well,” He said, “if this is what Burnedead wants, his request is granted.”

A fresh wave of gasps erupted as the most powerful man in the room agreed to Mash’s bizarre plea, leaving the entire press corps speechless. Cameras flashed as they struggled to capture the moment when reality officially lost its grip.

“They won’t be completely free, though,” Wahlberg added with a cryptic smile. The room’s attention shifted as the door swung open, and in walked Rayne Ames, the Sword Cane.

In his hands were a set of sinister-looking bracelets—no ordinary accessories. These things gleamed under the lights, metallic and sleek. The red-tinted timer embedded into each band pulsed like a heartbeat, and the sharp, angular edges looked like they could pierce skin if touched carelessly. Each bracelet was etched with runes that glowed faintly. The crowd couldn’t tear their eyes away from them.

Rayne, head of the Magical Tools Administration at the Bureau of Magic, stepped forward, his voice cold and authoritative as he addressed the room. “These bracelets will completely restrict their magic—down to zero. No spells, no manipulation of magical energy. They will essentially be powerless.”

He held up one of the bracelets for all to see, the tiny red timer still pulsing ominously. “There are further restrictions,” Rayne continued, “The bracelets will prevent the use of any magical artifacts, bar any attempts to access forbidden spells, and immediately neutralize any hostile actions. Any attempt to tamper with or remove these devices…” He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. “...will result in instant death. The timer will trigger an internal spell that will kill them on the spot. No amount of magic or strength will stop it from happening.”

The room shuddered as the Sword Cane’s words hung in the air, the press now whispering nervously about the terrifying implications of the bracelets.

“The only one who can dispel it is me.” Rayne finished as he pulled up the bracelets, his golden eyes seemed commanding enough for the masses.

The mood in the room shifted. A reporter, trying to make sense of the situation, muttered, “I mean, I guess that makes sense. At least they’ll die if they try anything bad, right?”

Another added, "It’s like a magical leash with a deadly twist. If they step out of line, they’re done for."

The murmurs spread through the crowd. Some reporters’ expressions were a mix of apprehension and grudging acceptance. “Well, it’s not like they’ll be able to cause any more trouble.”

The overall consensus seemed to be a reluctant agreement. The press, now more focused on the practicalities of the situation rather than the surreal nature of Mash’s request, continued snapping photos and jotting down notes. The eerie red timers and the deadly implications of the bracelets had managed to put the brakes on any further outrage.

“But they won’t do anything,” Mash looked at the Sword Cane, “I’ll stop them.”

“You better,” Kaldo walked next to him, “Else your brothers would die.”

< • >

“So that’s what happened,” Mash explained to his brothers, who were now being cuffed with the red bracelets by the Sword Cane.

“How dreadfully unfortunate,” Epidem said, his voice oozing with polite mockery. “These will certainly hinder my pudding enjoyment.” He side-eyed his brothers, “I’ve got puddinology to attend to, not family bonding time. This is a huge waste of my time, Burnedead.”

“Call me Mash, um,” He fiddled his fingers, trying to remember how Finn would call Rayne. His eyes lit up as he said, “Epidem nii-san.”

“Yuck!” Delisaster puked from the thought, “Don’t you dare call me anything like that, mushroom dude. That’s… ew.” He even gestured disgust before groaning, “Ugh, I could be out drinking, and smoking, but nooo, I’m stuck with these idiots again.”

“…” Doom remained silent, his expression inscrutable. His eyes revealed nothing about his thoughts or feelings. His mind was a complete mystery, leaving even his brothers unable to decipher what was going on inside.

“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this,” Famin chanted, trapped in his own spiral of madness. He glared at Rayne and spat at him, continuing his tirade, “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—”

“I am not paid enough for this bullshit.” Rayne thought, wiping the saliva off his face. Honestly, he knew why he was involved in this, but he hated to fact that it was for Finn’s sake, somehow. 

Famin's eyes blazed with madness as he lunged toward Mash, his face twisted in a manic snarl. “I’m going to tear you apart!” he screamed, his arm swinging in a wild, uncontrolled arc aimed directly at Rayne’s face.

Mash’s reflexes were sharp. With a swift, practiced motion, he grabbed Famin's wrist before the bracelets could register the attack, “Don’t do that, or else you’ll die,” He warned.

He then turned to the Sword Cane, “Rayne-senpai, I have to ask,” He paused, “Why were you so prepared with cuffs specifically for this situation? It’s like you knew exactly what I’d need.”

Rayne sighed, brushing off the remnants of Famin's spittle from his face. “Finn asked if there was anything in the magical items administration that could do something like that.”

“Finn-kun did?”

“Well, he noticed that you’ve been lonely lately,” He massaged his forehead, stressed out. “Honestly, seeing this, I should not have listened to him.”

Mash looked at Rayne, feeling a mix of surprise and gratitude. He was struck by how Finn had noticed his loneliness, something Mash hadn’t fully realized himself. Ah, his best friend really is the best. 

“Thanks, Rayne-senpai,” Mash said, a sincere smile on his face. “I didn’t know Finn-kun was paying attention. I have to thank him.”

Rayne just scoffed and refocused on adjusting the bracelets, making sure they were securely fastened. He glanced up at Mash and asked, “So, what are you planning to do with your brothers anyway?”

Mash shifted nervously, his eyes flitting around the room, “Uh… uhm…” He was clearly off-guard by the question. After all, he only ever thought of the first step of having them released, he did not expect to think about step two just yet!

Suddenly, he recalled Dot’s casual remark from their first hangout, and his face brightened with a hint of resolve. “We’re going to the beach.”

“A beach trip?!” Delisaster seemed surprisingly on board with the idea.

Epidem glanced at Mash, “There is pudding there, right?”

“Kill me now.” Famin, again, was in his own asylum in his head.

Doom remained his usual cool, calm self. He tilted his head slightly, considering the idea, “...”

Mash’s face lit up as he saw that three out of his four brothers were somewhat on board with the beach idea. He was feeling pretty confident about convincing Domina later on; it shouldn’t be too difficult.

Then, an epiphany struck him. Six people just wouldn’t cut it for a beach creampuff party extravaganza. The guest list needed to be bigger. His mind began whirring with possibilities.

Ah, right. All of his friends have siblings, don’t they? He should just invite them.

It’s perfect!

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER TWO ||
| Siblings and the Invitation |

MASH stood outside his older brother’s dorm at Walkis Magic Academy, feeling a slight breeze brush against him. Domina’s life had long since returned to a normal schoolboy’s, living in isolation at the academy, his criminal past a shadow over his quiet existence. Mash wasn’t one for complex explanations or heavy emotions, but he knew he needed to talk to Domina about what he’d just done.

Without hesitation, Mash knocked and entered. The door creaked as it opened, revealing Domina sitting at his desk, seemingly lost in a book.

The room was neat, almost sterile, as if Domina barely allowed himself to live in it. When the door swung open, pink eyes turned slowly to stare at him.

“Mash?” He asked, standing up from his desk. “H…How did you learn to open a door correctly?”

As the door softly closed behind him, he, too, was shocked. “Oh.” Mash stared at the normally opened and normally closed door that wasn’t completely wrecked or smashed like it should’ve. It felt surreal. It felt too good to be true.

“That’s an achievement,” Domina said, too busy being in awe to even bother asking the usual questions of someone barging into your room.

Mash’s expression remained as calm and straightforward as ever, though the gravity of what he was about to say wasn’t lost on him. 

“I got them pardoned,” Mash said.

Domina blinked, confused. “Got who pardoned?”

“Our brothers,” The mushroom head replied bluntly.

Domina's eyes widened, and he froze for a second, trying to process what he just heard. “Wait... you did what?”

“I convinced them to pardon Delisaster, Epidem, Famin, and Doom... all of them,” Mash said as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Domina took a step back, shaking his head slightly. His former faint smile was replaced with that of utter disbelief. “Mash, you can’t be serious. You know what they’ve done. They're not like me, or like you. They’ve... they're dangerous.”

“I know,” Mash said calmly, meeting Domina’s eyes. “But they’re still family.”

Domina sighed, clearly struggling to wrap his head around the whole situation. He knew Mash was strange, but this was beyond anything he could have expected. “Mash, you can’t just think that they’ll change because they’ve been pardoned. Delisaster, Epidem, Famin, Doom—they don’t care about doing the right thing. They’re not like us. They won’t listen to you.”

“Maybe,” He admitted, “But that doesn’t mean I won’t try.”

The very idea sounded ridiculous. Delisaster was a narcissistic maniac, only caring about himself and his looks. Epidem hid his cruelty beneath a veneer of politeness. Famin was a lost cause as far as Domina was concerned. And Doom was… Doom.

The idea that Mash believed they could be redeemed was almost laughable. Almost.

“Mash, they’re not good people,” He tried to convince him, “You got me to see things differently because I was open to it, but them? They’ll never change. I don’t think they’ll fit in society.”

Mash shrugged, “But they’re my brothers too. And everyone deserves a chance.”

Domina stared at him, speechless. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before. In some part of his mind, he wondered if their brothers could change, but... actually doing it? This was Mash. If anyone could do the impossible, it was him.

“And what if they don’t take that chance?” Domina asked, his voice low. “What if they hurt people again? What if they hurt you?”

Mash’s response was immediate. “I’ll handle it.”

Domina stared at him, searching for any sign of doubt, but found none. Mash’s conviction, his unshakable belief in family, didn’t budge. As much as Domina wanted to argue, to lay out how impossible it all seemed, a small part of him—quiet but persistent—wanted to believe Mash could actually pull it off.

That maybe, just maybe, their brothers could change.

Maybe, he, too, longs for a relationship with a normal family.

“You’re really going through with this?” Domina asked, his voice softer now.

“Yeah,” Mash nodded. “I want to at least try.”

The pink-haired young man sighed, running a hand over his face. “Alright. But don’t expect it to be easy. They’re not going to listen to you like I did.”

Mash offered a rare smile. “That’s okay. I like challenges.”

Domina shook his head, “So… why inform me? Do you have some secret agenda?”

The mushroom head looked around his room as if trying to avoid the situation. Domina has only been with his little brother a few times, but man, this guy was painfully obvious when he tried to ignore things.

“Well?”

“Well…” Mash paused, trying to devise an excuse, and utterly failing. He sighed, “I want your help…”

“My help? What am I going to do?”

The black-haired boy fiddled with his fingers, muttering, “By going to the beach with me…”

< • >

Mash sat comfortably on the couch, his usual neutral expression in place. Around him, his friends were in their usual spots in his dorm room, relaxing after a long day.

Lemon was seated beside him, doodling in her notebook while humming softly. Finn, lounged by the window with eyes closed. He probably fell asleep as he stared outside.

Lance leaned back in an armchair, quietly flipping through a book, while Dot was sprawled out on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with a bored expression.

Their classes had just ended for the day, and everyone was quite tired in one way or another. Being a second year was no joke, and studying more advanced topics made their heads explode.

They desperately needed a vacation!

Mash spoke up, “Hey, do you guys want to go to a beach party?”

Everyone looked up at him, surprised. Even Finn woke up from his suggestion.

“A beach party?” Lemon's eyes sparkled with excitement. “That sounds fun, Mash-kun! I’m go!”

Dot rolled over onto his side, immediately enthusiastic. “Yeah! The beach! Watermelons, waves, and we can totally bury Lance in the sand. I’m down!”

Lance nodded, “It could be nice. We could use a break.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Finn scratched his chin, “Maybe nii-sama would like to do something like that…”

Mash nodded, still calm. "We could bring our siblings too."

Everyone's expressions brightened at that. Lemon paused at the idea, his gremlin little brother and sister don’t seem that bad of a combo in a fun day at the beach. Lance didn’t mind the idea of bringing Anna along, she does deserve some fresh air after being cooped up for years in that room.

Finn thought about his older brother, Rayne, who has been quite aloof at the idea of continuing to be distant. Maybe a small beach vacation would help them reconcile better? Dot thought about his older sister, Malta, and remembered wanting to challenge her in a volleyball match back then. Maybe this is the opportunity!

The energy in the room had lifted considerably. Everyone was envisioning a relaxing, sun-filled day of fun with their siblings. That was, until Mash added something else.

“I invited my brothers, too.”

A heavy silence fell upon the room.

“Y-You mean Domina-san, right…?” Finn stuttered, “Just him… Right, Mash-kun?”

Mash shook his head, “No, I mean all of my brothers.”

Dot, halfway through turning onto his stomach, paused, his head slowly tilting toward Mash. “Wait… you mean… those brothers?”

“Yeah,” Mash confirmed, as nonchalantly as if he were discussing the weather. “Delisaster, Epidem, Famin, and Doom.”

Finn visibly stiffened, his skin crawling at the mention of Delisaster. The last time he crossed paths with that man, he wouldn’t have made it out unscathed if it was just himself there. Just the thought of being in the same space as Delisaster—and with Rayne, no less—made him shudder.

Rayne, surprisingly, had complained about Delisaster. If Finn ever mentioned wanting to attend any sort of party, Rayne assumed it was that blonde maniac’s influence during their confrontation. The mere thought made Finn’s throat tighten. “Nii-sama’s going to kill someone,” he muttered.

 Lance, however, was not nearly as quiet. His eyes narrowed into a death glare, his entire posture rigid as he stood up, fists clenched. “Mash, tell me you’re joking.” He ran his hand across his face, “You want me to bring Anna near that Epidem? After what he did to her?”

Everyone knew that Epidem had caused what happened to Anna in the past. It was a sore spot for Lance, one he hadn’t forgotten or forgiven. The very thought of his little sister being near Epidem made his blood boil. His fists tightened, and for a brief moment, it looked like he was ready to punch Mash through a wall.

Lemon, however, looked deeply concerned. “I’ve never met your brothers before, Mash-kun, but I heard they’re really dangerous…”

Finn, still pale, answered before Mash could. “Yes. Yes, they are.”

Lance was practically shaking with rage, glaring daggers. “Epidem’s not going anywhere near Anna, you hear me? If you think I’m bringing her, you’ve lost your mind.”

Finn nodded, still uneasy. “And Delisaster? If Nii-sama even sees him, it’s going to be bad. Like, really bad.”

Dot scratched his chin, uncertain, “If they didn’t almost destroy the world, it’d be fine, but…”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mash-kun…” Lemon whimpered, seeing his friends getting a bit murderous, especially their Divine Visionary friend. 

As the tension in the room thickened, everyone started talking over one another, their voices growing louder with each passing second.

As the arguing reached its peak, Mash, who had been quiet the whole time, finally spoke up.

“Please.”

That one word stopped everyone in their tracks. Mash wasn’t the type to plead for anything. Ever. His voice wasn’t loud, but the weight behind it was unmistakable. 

“Please. Just once, please. I... I feel really lonely sometimes,” Mash admitted quietly, “Everyone always has something to say about their brothers or sisters. Good or bad, it doesn’t matter. You all know what it’s like to have them around. I... don’t really know that feeling. I just want to understand what it’s like to hang out with my brothers, too.”

There was a weight in his voice none of them had ever heard before. He wasn’t asking for much. He wasn’t asking for perfection or peace. He just wanted a chance to experience family like they did, even if it was messy, even if it was complicated.

A heavy sense of guilt washed over the group. They’d been so focused on their own fears and concerns that they hadn’t realized how much this meant to him. He didn’t often show emotion, but this? This was a rare glimpse into what Mash truly felt.

Lance let out a long breath, sighing, “Alright,” he said softly, “I’ll come. But Anna stays out of it. I’m not risking her safety. I need you to understand that, Mash.”

“Okay.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind, I guess.” Dot scratched his chin awkwardly. He was quite complacent since he knew that Mash’s brothers were now fully cuffed. It shouldn’t be that dangerous, right?

Lemon gulped. This might just be her most threatening outing yet! 

Finn bit his lip, secretly feeling some sort of guilt. Though he didn’t really intend for things to escalate like this, he didn’t expect Mash to drag his friends into his pursuit with his brothers. He just wanted his friend to feel less lonely…

He couldn’t help but wonder what Rayne would think about all this, especially since he was the one who had suggested those cuffs to his older brother and Wahlberg. He just really hoped Mash would never find out about that.

Finn muttered, “I... I’ll have to ask nii-sama first. If he says no, I can’t go. But... I’ll at least try.”

“For Mash-kun!” Lemon declared, putting on her bravest face, though deep inside, she couldn’t quite shake the fear.

The room fell quiet again as the decision settled in. Mash didn’t say another word, but the small, grateful smile on his face spoke volumes. They didn’t know what was going to happen at that beach, but for Mash, they were willing to give it a shot.

< • >

“What are those for, nii-chan?”

“Nothing. I just need a change of clothes.”

“Shorts?” Anna tilted her head, eyeing the swim trunks her older brother was stuffing into his bag. “That doesn’t look like just ‘a change of clothes.’”

Lance tensed, his hand pausing over a bottle of sunscreen he was trying to quietly tuck away. “It’s… Dot just wanted to borrow my clothes.”

“With swim trunks, a towel, and sunscreen?” Her eyes narrowed, clearly suspicious. “You’re going to the beach, aren’t you?”

Lance sighed inwardly, frustrated with himself for being so careless. “Anna, it’s nothing. Just a quick hangout with some boring people at the beach. Nothing you’d be interested in.”

Her face lit up. “The beach? I love the beach! I’m coming too!”

He winced. He couldn't let her come. Not with them there. "It’s not that simple, Anna. It’s... not safe.”

She blinked, “What do you mean? The beach isn’t dangerous. You always let me come along before.”

Lance hesitated. How could he explain this without worrying her? Epidem—the one who had cursed Anna—would be there, along with Mash’s other dangerous brothers. And Anna didn’t need to be anywhere near them. “It’s not the beach that’s the problem. It's just… the people who are going.”

Her curiosity flared. “Oh? Who’s going? Is it Mash-san? What about Dot-san? That annoying guy you always talk about. Or Finn-san? You said he’s kindhearted, that doesn’t sound like a problem? Oh, what about Lemon-san? I want to meet her!”

Lance sighed, trying to stay calm. “Yeah, Dot, Mash and Finn will be there. Lemon, too. But… it’s not just them.”

Anna’s eyes widened, her excitement growing. “Even better! Nii-chan, please! I want to meet them!”

 “It’s not a good idea, Anna. I can’t let you come.”

“Why not?” She pouted, crossing her arms. “You never let me do anything fun! I’ll be careful, I promise!”

“It’s not about that.” He struggled to find the right words. “There are people going, people who… aren’t safe. You shouldn’t be around them.”

“Who? What’s so dangerous about Dot-san? He’s just loud, right?”

Lance groaned, knowing full well that Anna wasn’t going to stop unless he was clear. He doesn’t want to reopen her wounds or remind her of what happened before. “It’s not Dot. It's… someone else.”

Lance paused mid-movement, his hand hovering over the towel he was packing. His expression darkened, a visible anger crossing his face. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, the room grew unbearably quiet.

Anna noticed immediately. She was great at reading people, especially her brother. The sudden shift in his mood made her heart sink. “Was it the person who cursed me, nii-chan?”

Lance’s fists tightened around the towel, the tension in his body palpable. He didn’t look at her, his eyes fixed on the bag in front of him, but the weight of her question hung in the air. He didn’t need to say anything for Anna to know the answer.

“Epidem…” She whispered, her unease creeping in.

Still, Lance remained silent, his shoulders rigid. The thought of letting her anywhere near the person responsible for almost draining her magic—hurting her—boiled his blood. He wanted to protect her, keep her far away from that kind of danger. But how could he explain all of that without scaring her? Without revealing just how much that moment had haunted him?

Anna stepped closer, her voice a little firmer this time. “Nii-chan… if he’s going to be there, you can just say it. I know you’re worried, but I trust you.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, he is. It’s not just him. His brothers—Mash’s brothers—are all going. They’re… not the kind of people you should be around.”

With a stubborn glint in her eyes, she spoke up again. “But you’ll be there, right? You’ll protect me, nii-chan. I know you will.”

“Look, I can’t let you come.” He looked at the ground, “Let’s just… have our own separate beach vacation together, okay?”

“But I want to meet your other friends!” She pouted, grabbing his arm to persuade him. “Citrus-kun and Kiwi-chan said Lemon-san invited the two of them. I know I can trust you to protect me, nii-chan!”

“Citrus and Kiwi did?” Lance paused, “What is Lemon thinking?” 

Lance’s anger flickered for a moment, giving way to the overwhelming need to keep Anna safe. He hated how calm and trusting she was as if she didn’t understand the risk. But she did. And that made it harder.

He sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “Yeah… I’ll protect you. But that’s why I don’t want you to come. It’s better if you stay away from all of this.”

Anna bit her lip, clearly torn between her excitement for the beach and her brother’s very real concern. She stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m scared too, you know. About him. But I won’t be if you’re there with me.”

Lance stared at her for a long moment, feeling the tightness in his chest. He couldn’t stand the idea of her getting hurt, not again. But at the same time, she was stronger than he gave her credit for.

He let out a slow, resigned breath. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Anna.”

“I do,” She said firmly. “And I know you’ll be there!”

He looked into her eyes, searching for some sign that she might back down. But she didn’t. She was as stubborn as ever. Finally, his shoulders slumped, and he gave a reluctant nod.

“Alright,” He muttered. “But you stay with me. And if anything feels off, we’re leaving. No arguments.”

Anna’s face lit up, but Lance still felt worry in his chest. “I hope I’m not making a mistake.”

< • >

Finn knocked on the door, his heart racing. Ever since Rayne had moved into his new home, the idea of seeing his brother in a different environment was both exciting and nerve-wracking. He had been trying to memorize the names of Rayne’s nine rabbits, a task Max had been helping him with, and he hoped to impress his older brother with his knowledge.

Though they still felt a little awkward. Actually talking to him was a workout. It’s not like their little scuffle against Delisaster had completely removed the distance they once had. 

When the door creaked open, Finn stepped inside, his eyes scanning the living room. It was cozy, decorated with a mix of Rayne’s belongings and bunny-themed knickknacks. But what caught Finn’s attention was a peculiar scene on the floor.

Rayne was lying sprawled out on the carpet, and a small army of rabbits was enthusiastically munching on bits of carrot scattered across his legs. Finn’s eyes widened in surprise as he took in the sight—his brother, completely unbothered, with bits of carrot stuck in his hair and a few rabbits perched on his chest, nibbling away at the snacks.

“Uh, nii-sama?” Finn called out, trying to stifle a laugh.

Rayne lifted his head, blinking at him for a moment. “You’re home.”

He stood up, brushing off stray bits of carrot from his clothes as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He walked over to Finn, patting his arm gently.

Finn glanced down at the bunnies still busy on the floor. “I didn’t know you were... uh, feeding them like this.”

“It’s their feeding time,” Rayne replied nonchalantly. “They tend to prefer me as a snack holder.” He ruffled his younger brother’s hair, and Finn felt a familiar warmth flood through him.

Later, the two sat together on the couch, the rabbits frolicking around them. Finn felt extremely nervous. The idea of asking someone like Rayne to go to the beach with him was strange! It felt weird! It was only a few months ago when they were ignoring each other’s existence after all.

“Finn,” Rayne’s tone seemed impatient, “Just get to the point.”

The younger one took a deep breath. “Well, um… Mash-kun asked if you would be alright joining us at the beach this weekend. And, um… his brot—“

“I’ll go,” Rayne spoke immediately. 

Finn blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected his brother to agree so quickly. “But, nii-sama, Mash’s brothers would be there,” he protested, trying to grasp the implications of Rayne’s decision.

Rayne simply nodded, standing up and heading toward his room to pack a bag. “Okay,” He moved without delay, gathering his belongings without a hint of hesitation.

Hearing the words ‘Mash’ and ‘Beach’ together, Rayne could already connect the dots about what Finn was about to say. After all, he was there when that mushroom head suggested such an idea to his criminal siblings.

Truthfully, he should’ve declined and forced Finn to stay at home too. Removing yourself from the situation was the easiest way to avoid disasters after all.

But Rayne has already realized how his brother has grown, and how important Mash and all of his friends are to him. He doesn’t want to be a terrible brother anymore. His brother was strong and very stubborn. Finn isn’t the coward he once was.

So, if he can’t stop him, he’ll just be there for him.

Finn was left standing in the living room, utterly confused. “What just happened?”  He thought, “Does he even realize how dangerous it is?” Finn’s mind raced with concern for Rayne, but he knew his brother would never admit to being worried about him.

After a moment, he decided he couldn’t let this go without addressing it. “Nii-sama, I really think—”

Rayne interrupted him again, his voice steady. “Finn, I’m going. I’ll be there to keep an eye on you.”

“Are you sure—?“

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on Mash’s brothers too, especially him.”

Finn watched anxiously. Rayne had always been this protector ever since they were kids, but the thought of facing Mash’s brothers, especially Delisaster, alongside him was daunting.

Hopefully, that beach wouldn’t turn into a warzone.

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER THREE ||
| Siblings and the Beach Vacation |

THE sky was a clear blue, with just a few clouds on the horizon. The sun beat down, warming the sand. Even with the bright day and sound of the waves, an awkward tension hung between the Adler five—excluding Mash who was unexplainably late—as they mingled.

This was the same beach they had visited when the threat of Innocent Zero loomed over them. Now, they were here with a similar purpose—a so-called “vacation”—but the irony didn’t escape anyone. It was almost surreal that they were back here with Innocent Zero’s sons of all people.

Lance, Dot, Finn, and Lemon gathered, introducing their siblings to one another.

Lance gestured to a young girl, “You all have already met her already, but this is my sister, Anna.”

The group smiled awkwardly altogether, having the same exact thought. “I still can’t believe she’s an actual real girl and not just a fictional fixation by Lance!”

“This is Nee-san, she’ll be our cook,” Dot exclaimed as he introduced his older sister. “You’ve got to try her omurice sometime!”

“Hey! I’m Malta, Dot’s big sis.” She grinned and extended her hand to the younger kids. “Feel free to call me whatever you like—my name or nee-san works!”

The group blinked in surprise. “She’s way nicer than we expected, considering her looks and her brother’s... personality.”

Finally, it was Finn’s turn, and the idea of introducing Rayne as his older brother still felt surreal. His nervous fidgeting prompted Rayne to give him a reassuring pat on the back.

“I’m Rayne, Finn’s brother,” He said, keeping it casual as if he weren’t a famous Divine Visionary. Finn looked up, surprised that Rayne had spoken.

“He’s scary! How can he be the complete opposite of Finn-kun?” They all exchanged glances, sweat dripping down their foreheads.

“And these two are my troublesome siblings!” Lemon pulled them into a tight embrace. “This is Kiwi and Citrus, my little sister and brother.”

Kiwi shyly stepped back from the hug, tugging at her short, tousled blonde hair that stuck out at odd angles. In contrast, the boy named Citrus tried to pull away stubbornly, nearly getting his ponytail tangled in Lemon’s arms.

“They’re so adorable!” Most of them thought while some wondered why Lemon never brought up her siblings to them at all.

“And it should be Mash’s turn by now,” Dot scratched his neck awkwardly, shifting his gaze everywhere, yet the mushroom head was nowhere to be seen. “But it looks like he’s late.”

Lance shrugged, brows furrowed. “He’d better not be in trouble.”

Finn nodded, silent but keeping an eye out toward the waves, almost like he expected Mash to appear from the water at any moment.

With Mash's absence, the group was at a loss for what to do next. They eventually decided to move their things into the hut located at the edge of the beach.

Dot leaned over to Lance and whispered, “Hey, man, what’s your sister even doing here? Wasn’t this supposed to be, y’know, a ‘no-kids’ zone?” He glanced over at Anna, who was currently doing her best to wave politely at Lemon’s siblings.

Lance groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t have a choice, alright? She forced me.”

Dot raised an eyebrow. “She… forced you?”

 “Well, technically… she just insisted a lot.”

“And you let her get to you?"

“What did you expect, Dot? It’s Anna.”

“Oh. You’re right.” The red-haired young man came to a quick conclusion; Lance can easily be persuaded by Anna Crown, even if it means such danger for some odd reason.

“I had the same issue.” Lemon cried, looking over her siblings.

“From what I remember, you’re very normal about your siblings, unlike Lance,” Finn spoke up, while the Gravity Cane didn’t even mind being mentioned.

“It was worse,” The blonde girl’s mind wandered over to the days before in dread. “Kiwi found out I just fell for a scam online… I spent so much money on it too, and when Citrus found out, he threatened to tell it to our parents!”

“So you got blackmailed.” Lance summarized.

“Yes! I wouldn’t have brought Citrus here otherwise!” she exclaimed, clearly annoyed with the younger boy. “But Kiwi is a good girl, so she can stay no matter what.”

“Sounds like your little brother is a devil.” Malta chuckled.

From afar, Kiwi gave Anna cautious but polite nods, while Citrus lightly punched the young Crown. Anna, unfazed, started chatting with them. The whole vacation thing was going normally so far, but they knew that was only the case because a certain someone is late.

Meanwhile…

< • >

Back at home, Mash Burnedead was in full-on panic mode. The sun blazed outside, but inside his room, it felt like a pressure cooker. He stood in front of his mirror, holding up different swimwear options. The last time he went, he had shown up in a workout outfit, and his friends told him to try and look more like he was going to the beach and not the gym.

“What about this?” He muttered to himself, holding up a neon green gym outfit. He quickly dismissed it. “It’s still not a swimsuit.” 

“How long are you going to choose, mushroom dude?” Delisaster clicked his tongue, his body sprawled out on the couch with his feet up, “I can’t wait to pummel freckles and his stupid brother into the ground.”

“Don’t do that,” Mash warned.

“Silence, I must organize our essentials.” Epidem chimed in, his focus on packing a bag that was absurdly overflowing with pudding containers. He grinned as he stuffed in another tub.

“Essentials, sure.” The blonde one rolled his eyes. 

“I will kill you all,” Famin mumbled from the corner, his body twitching as if he were struggling against an unseen force. His fingers convulsed as he stared at the wall, lost in his chaotic thoughts. 

“Don’t do that either,” Mash interjected.

Doom sat comfortably in Mash’s bed, his shoulder carrying a small penny bag that Regro had given him. Inside it was his swimwear; an embarrassingly small pair of underwear.

Domina watched quietly from the side, his gaze fixed on his brothers, who were all too caught up in their antics. He was still absolutely worried about Mash’s grand plan of making these guys act like a normal family.

“Just use whatever there is, bruh.” Delisaster yawned.

“Yeah, because a workout outfit is perfect for the beach,” Domina replied, clearly irate of his brothers, specifically, this rowdy blonde motherfucker.

Doom tipped his chin, “I did not know aesthetics is essential for a beach outing.”

“Just wear nothing!” Delisaster cackled, “It’ll be a blast!”  

Mash’s eyes widened as he recalled the image of his friends from his last beach trip. They had, indeed, arrived in nothing but their natural states; half-naked in simpler terms. Finally, after an endless deliberation, he grabbed a towel and, against his better judgment, made a decision.

“I’m ready,” He announced, shoving his bag on the floor.

Domina’s eyes widened, and he quickly shot him a pleading look. “You didn’t bring any underwear or shorts, did you?”

Mash stammered. “I— O…o-of c…course, I… I—I did.”

Delisaster burst out laughing, “You’re joking! You really didn’t bring anything? LMAO.”

“I would rather not see you naked, thank you.” Epidem pushed his arm out.

Domina sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “At least bring something. Just get some shorts and underwear.”

“…Fine.” He then proceeded to rummage through his drawer. He doesn’t have that much clothes anyway. Rifling through it, he spotted a pair of shorts shoved into the corner.

With a sigh of relief, Mash showed his pants to his pink-haired brother; proudly showcasing it as if It were a luxury outfit.

“Finally.” Domina sighed.

“Damn. Should’ve shown up with nothing at all,” Delisaster groaned.

Mash simply shrugged, his face impassive. “Not happening.”

“Just remember,” Domina warned, “No one wants to see you naked.”

“Yeah, I get it,” He replied nonchalantly.

Epidem glanced at the clock, his mouth opening after such notice. They were running late—really late—all because of Mash and his outfit crisis.

< • >

The sun glared down on the beach as Mash finally arrived, flanked by his brothers. He scanned the scene, his friends mingling under the sweltering sun, and Mash felt nervous for the very first time. Time to introduce the family, he thought.

“Hello.” He called out, waving his hand. “Sorry. We’re late.”

“We know.” Lance glared, “It’s been four hours since the meet-up time.”

“…Sorry.”

The crowd near the beach suddenly turned their heads toward the newly arrived Burnedead and his more-than-welcome brothers.  Gasps filled the air, and not one of them tried to approach the brothers.

“Ah, I guess I should introduce them.” Mash then brought the eldest up front. “This is Doom.”

“We all know! We almost died trying to fight him!” Finn was about to pass out by Mash’s denseness.

Doom stepped forward, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over them. He wore his usual face, raising a hand in greeting. The response was instantaneous—Finn, Dot, Rayne, and Lance all recoiling slightly.

“Uh, hi there…” Dot stammered, glancing at the others, who shared his alarm. Doom’s visor hid his eyes, but the intimidation was palpable.

Noticing the fright he inspired, Doom furrowed his brow, contemplating the situation. He removed his visor, revealing his blind eyes, perhaps the mask covering his eyes made him scarier?

An eerie silence fell over the group, and horror washed over the majority of them. Seeing his eyes was a terrible reminder of their hopelessness when they and the Light Cane were defeated.

But Anna, ever the brave soul, stepped forward. She extended her hand to Doom. “Hi, Doom-san, I’m Anna. It’s nice to meet you!”

Doom’s expression softened as their hands met, warmth flooding his senses. He had never experienced such a simple yet profound gesture. In that moment, she was not just some kid but a soft, precious presence that made the world feel a little brighter.

“Mash… is this what friendship feels like?” Doom asked, slowly becoming fond of the little girl.

“We can be friends if you like!” She grinned innocently.

As Doom’s interaction settled into a more relaxed atmosphere, Mash cleared his throat and introduced his second brother. “And this is Famin.”

Famin scanned through their faces, observing their features for less than a split second before looking at the next one. His eyes went from utter distaste to nothing but disinterest.

“He’s not here.” He said, rolling his eyes.

Ignoring whatever that was, he didn’t seem to be too hostile… for now.

“And uh, this guy’s Epidem.” Mash introduced, but most of them did not need introductions.

Epidem. The one responsible for Anna’s illness, and countless others. Back then, he couldn’t care less about his ‘guinea pigs,’ and hoping he was a changed man felt like a stretch.

Lance instinctively wrapped Anna in a protective embrace, pulling her close. Lemon, as well as Rayne and Malta, unnerved by Epidem’s mere presence, followed suit with their own siblings, shielding them from him in their own ways.

“Ah, I see.” He tipped his chin, already knowing why they’d react like that. When his eyes lay on the Crowns, it was a stark reminder of what he had done. Not that he regretted it.

No words were spoken, but their stares screamed “Don’t you dare.”

Mash pressed on with introductions, landing on Delisaster, who promptly rolled his eyes.

“This is so boring!” Delisaster groaned, strutting over to two brothers. “I think you all already know my name, and by now, you should know who to bow to!”

Rayne crossed his arms, eyebrow raised. “Pretty bold talk from someone who’s chained up.”

Delisaster's grin faltered. “Only ‘cause someone’s scared of what I’d do without it. If these cuffs came off, you'd be the first—”

“—to shut you up,” Rayne cut him off, unblinking. “Chains or not, I’d bury you before you even get the chance to touch your wand.”

The blonde one opened his mouth, but the Sword Cane already took a step forward, casting an unimpressed glare. "Try me. You'll be begging for those cuffs."

Delisaster’s eyes flared. “I’d love to see you try. These cuffs are nothing, and the moment they come off, you’ll be on your knees.”

“I don’t need your cuffs off to make you regret opening your mouth.”

“Why don’t we test it out then? Take these things off for me, would ‘ya? C’mon, let’s have a rematch, Rayne Ames!”

Rayne immediately waved his hand off. “I’m not that easily provoked.”

He walked off, leaving Finn practically gasping after what he’d just seen. This was one of his worst fears come to life: Delisaster and Rayne in the same place.

As if things couldn’t get any tenser, Mash carried on with the introductions, moving on to his other brother, Domina. They’d all met him before, so most of them were already well aware of his past.

“Hello…” Domina stammered.

To everyone’s surprise, Kiwi stepped forward, leaving her usual comfort zone.

“H-Hi,” She greeted, taking him aback as she approached.

“…I’m Domina. What about you?”

“Oh, um… My name is Kiwi, and um, I really like your hair, Domina-san!”

Domina's eyes widened in surprise, and a faint blush crept across his cheeks as Kiwi complimented him. simple acknowledgment made him almost giddy, reminding him that Mash was right; he can be loved just by being himself.

“Please treat them well.” Mash bowed down.

Finn dropped a sweat, watching the looming threat that is the Devil’s Quintuplets. “I think it’s us who should be treated well, Mash-kun…”

The introductions were quick and tense, but it was easily gotten over with. The beach outing would be lasting a week; and while that is really long for one, for the sake of plot, they shall stay at such length.

Unfortunately, the time Mash had taken in preparing meant they arrived just as the sun began to dip below the horizon, leaving them without a chance to enjoy the water. Despite the growing impatience among the group, Lemon had kept insisting they wait for him, and now here they were, missing out on the swimming.

While a midnight dip would be just as good, their stomachs were already growling in hunger.

Thus, they busied themselves with preparations for their dinner.

“Brothers,” Mash called.

“Don’t call me that.” Delisaster spat.

Doom tilted his head, “What is it, Mash?”

He pointed to a certain redhead. “Can you help her cook? We need all the hands we can get.”

“Are we going to bake some pudding?” Epidem asked enthusiastically.

“Hell no.” Famin stared at him, “And I won’t help that bitch.”

Dot overheard and did not stand any slander of his big sister. Lance cupped his mouth, making sure he wasn’t going to wage war. Still, Dot’s muffled voice could make out something: “How dare you call nee-san that? You wanna go, pennywise?!”

Malta still took charge, her authoritative voice ringing out as she rifled through her oversized bag, pulling out containers and utensils with practiced ease. “Delisaster! Get me the seasoning from the left side of the bag,” She ordered. Delisaster, still in his cuffs, rolled his eyes but complied, muttering under his breath about the indignity of being bossed around.

“Doom! I need you to fetch the skewers!” She called next, sending the tall man on a mission to find the forgotten supplies buried deep in the bag. He didn’t seem to be off about the helping thing.

Meanwhile, Famin was left to stir the bubbling pot over the fire, eyes wide and twitchy as he added ingredients with reckless abandon in the hopes of ruining the meal. Sadly, Malta gave him the thumbs up.

Domina was in charge of cutting up the other vegetables with Finn and Lemon, seeing as he was the most redeemed of the bunch. Giving a knife to the other four was a death wish.

As the scents of grilled meats and roasted vegetables wafted through the air, everyone felt their stomachs rumble in anticipation. Malta expertly mixed flavors, tossing in herbs and spices that danced across the palate—garlic, rosemary, and a hint of citrus. Soon, they had an impressive spread laid out: golden-brown fillets of fish, colorful skewers of vegetables and meat, and bowls brimming with a rich, savory stew that simmered with fresh herbs and a splash of coconut milk.

“Dot, is your big sister not afraid of them or something?” Lance side-eyed him.

The redhead shook his head dramatically. “Even I can’t see myself bossing those guys around! Nee-san’s a different breed!”

As they gathered around the fire, savoring their meal, an awkward silence settled over the group. The food was delicious, and Mash couldn’t help but think, yes, this is good—almost as good as the workout he got from dragging down palm trees to make seats.

But Finn, unable to bear the heavy quiet any longer, felt like he was stuck in a sitcom without a laugh track. Sharing a meal at the beach felt surreal, especially after their attempts to kill each other a few weeks ago. It was like a family dinner gone terribly wrong.

He knew he had to shatter this silence before he started hearing crickets—or worse, the sound of his own thoughts.

“So... anyone wants to tell some spooky stories?” he finally blurted out, trying to sound casual.

The question hung in the air longer than he preferred. Finn silently prayed for someone to respond, desperate for any answer that would rescue them from this awkwardness.

After what felt like an eternity of ten seconds with no reply, Mash finally chimed in, “Let’s try it.”

Because nothing says bonding like scaring each other silly, right?

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER FOUR ||
| Siblings and Campfire Stories |

THE fire crackled in the center of the beach, throwing dancing shadows across the group of misfits gathered around it. The air was thick with the smell of burnt wood, mingling with the sound of their quiet murmurs. Outside, the wind howled through the trees, but inside, there was only the tension of a late-night gathering. The perfect setting for telling spooky stories.

“So… anyone want to tell some spooky stories?” Finn suggested, glancing around the room.

Famin’s eyes lit up at the invitation, his manic grin widening. He stood up abruptly, causing everyone to flinch. He had been the opposite of insane lately, instead being this emo silent guy, which was extremely off.

“I’ve got the perfect one.” He said, “It was the most horrific murder I’ve ever committed. First, I—"

“Famin,” Mash warned, “Murder is not spooky at all.”

But Famin was already in the zone, leaning forward, his hands animated as he began to paint a grisly picture of his so-called “worst crime,” describing every detail with unnerving precision. His voice dropped lower, and the others exchanged uncomfortable glances.

“So there I was, in the dead of night, the cold, the silence, the tension... I dragged a married woman to the old abandoned house on the hill, the one that’s haunted, obviously. I left no trace—except for the blood. Oh, the blood was everywhere. It was... glorious.”

“Alright, alright, I think that’s enough,” Finn interrupted, visibly paling. “Maybe we shouldn’t go that route. I mean, uh… can we not talk about murder?”

Everyone nodded in agreement, Finn looking slightly relieved, but also still unsettled.

Lance chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. “Let’s move on. Mash, you try.”

Mash glanced at him, pondering what type of story he should make. Something spooky right? So it should be something that’d make them cry out in fear, maybe?

“Ok.” He cleared his throat, “So, there’s this family of creampuffs—Mr. and Mrs. Creampuff and their kids, Choux, Éclair, and little Petit—all sitting cozy in a bakery, waiting to be eaten by me.” He paused, “I mean, by customers. One day, a thief named The Whisk comes into the bakery, and, one by one, the creampuffs start to disappear. Vanishing into thin air—poof!” He even creates this sound effect with his hand gestures.

“He throws them all in a rough, scratchy bag, planning to eat them one by one in his dark hideout. Just when they think it’s over, the bakery owner, Madame Ganache, bursts in with a rolling pin, very angry. She chases The Whisk out and saves the creampuffs, putting them back safe and sound. But to this day, if you look real close at night, you can see the fear in their little creampuff eyes, because once you’ve been stolen by The Whisk, you never feel quite safe again."

Mash leaned back, looking satisfied with himself.

The group sat in stunned silence, trying to process just how absurd the story was. A family of creampuffs? Kidnapped by ‘The Whisk’?

“Well…” Finn started, rubbing the back of his neck, “It was… spooky in a way?”

“That was the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard,” Lance chimed in, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Kidnapped creampuffs? Seriously?”

“I thought it was... cute,” Anna said, naively tilting her head.

Dot sighed. “We’re talking about spooky stories, not... bakery drama.”

“You’re right, Dot,” Epidem nodded, “We need something a little... more chilling.” He leaned forward as if getting ready to tell a story that would rattle their bones.

“So, this one’s about a family of pudding,” Epidem began, his voice taking on a sinister edge, “This family—caring, warm-hearted, all living together in perfect harmony. But one day, a shadow falls over their home. A dark figure, creeping closer... And one by one, the puddings are murdered. Smothered, frozen, crushed into oblivion... it’s a massacre.”

He paused, watching everyone with wide eyes. “Do you know what happens next? The last pudding tries to escape, but it too is—”

“Nope. We are not doing this.” Lance interjected. Not only does he absolutely despise the man, but this was just a pudding version of what Mash said.

Anna pouted, “I don’t really like pudding. But them being killed is just sad!”

Epidem tilted his head, “You… don’t like pudding?”

Mash quickly grabbed his hand, holding on tightly to keep the pudding enthusiast close. Epidem wasn’t about to let anyone disrespect his precious pudding, and Lance stood ready to graviole his ass if he even thought about harming Anna.

“I-I like pudding!” Dot shouted, hoping for Epidem to focus on him instead.

“…You do?”

“Of course.” He dropped a sweat, “It’s my favorite dessert, y’know.”

The silence was palpable, but the redhead was hoping such a proclamation would lead the man to discuss his palate extensively rather than actively try to kill the girl.

“Will you join me in my puddinology cult once more?”

“Y-Yes, sure, sure!”

Epidem sat back down, sipping his tea. Lance cautiously did the same, yet his protectiveness was obvious.

“Can we try to talk about something not food or murder?” Finn dropped a sweat.

“Freckles is right! No one has time for pudding or creampuff.” Delisaster snarked. He flopped back in his seat, clearly unimpressed with the earlier stories. “Boring food tales. You know what we need? A REAL story. About someone who knows how to look good, who knows how to be the best.”

Everyone turned to look at him, knowing exactly where this was going.

Delisaster smirked, throwing an arm over the back of his seat like he was the king of the world. “Yo, y’all wanna talk real fear? Buckle up, ‘cause the scariest thing you’ll ever hear about is right here—me. Yeah, for real. I’m talking drop-dead handsome, ten-outta-ten flawless, the whole freakin’ package.” He paused, raising an eyebrow as if daring them to disagree. “But nah, the world just can’t hang. They get shook just lookin’ at me. Total envy, full-on jealousy, straight-up fear—I’m tellin’ you, people don’t know what to do with this level of god-tier perfection.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh, all dramatic. “It’s rough, man. A true tragedy being this iconic.”

“You talk too much,” Rayne muttered, barely keeping the irritation out of his voice. “Nobody here signed up to listen to you ramble about yourself, Delisaster.”

The blonde flashed a cocky grin, “Aw, what’s wrong, Rayne? Don’t tell me you’re salty ‘cause you can’t keep up with all this,” he said, gesturing to himself like he was the main event.

“Just shut up,” Rayne rolled his eyes, “I’m not sitting here listening to you brag for hours.”

“Oh, so now you don’t appreciate greatness when it’s right in front of you?” Delisaster shot back, “Hate to break it to you, bro, but not everyone can handle this level of premium.”

“I’m just not wasting my time on you.”

The two locked eyes, the tension rising as their bickering hit its usual stride. The rest of the group exchanged knowing glances, wondering how long it would take for one of them to finally snap.

Finn, trying to smooth things over, cleared his throat. “Well, uh… I can tell a story.”

Everyone turned to look at Finn. Ah yes, the only normal one in this entire group. Maybe he could make this night a bit spooky?

"U-Um, I don’t know if this is scary but it is a story…” He cleared his throat, “There were these two rabbits, an older one and a younger one. The older rabbit was strong and fast, always out front, always keeping watch over his little brother. And the younger rabbit? He was just... there, trying to keep up, wondering where he fit in. He’d watch his big brother hop ahead, braving all sorts of dangers, and think, ‘Maybe I’m just holding him back.’ Night after night, he’d sit there, thinking, ‘Maybe he’d be better off without me.’”

Finn paused, his gaze dropping as he took a breath. “But no matter how far ahead the older rabbit went, he’d always come back. Always keep an eye out. For a long time, the younger rabbit didn’t get it—thought his brother was just too strong to care. But then, he realized… it wasn’t about leaving him behind. It was about keeping him safe. The younger rabbit didn’t want that though, he wanted to be with his older brother, but even after fighting, the two just can’t seem to be close anymore.”

The room was quiet for a moment. “Well, isn’t that sweet, freckles?” Delisaster rolled his eyes, “But I thought we were supposed to be telling spooky stories, not some slice of life bullshit?”

Though he said that, the look in his eyes looked as if he had something in plan, and that Finn’s little rabbit story made him understand something.

Lance raised his hand and said, “Well, I’ve got another story.”

“There was a little girl,” He began, “And she was lost in the dark. Completely alone. She couldn’t see anything, but she was okay because she knew her big brother would come and find her.”

Famin blinked. “That’s not scary.”

“It’s not supposed to be,” Lance said confidently. “It’s just... that’s how I feel about Anna. No matter how dark things get, I know I’ll always be there for her.”

“Stop. Just stop,” Dot groaned. “This is... siscon stuff. Right in front of Anna? Really, dude? It’s creepy.”

“I don’t get it,” Anna said, tilting her head in confusion. “What’s a siscon?”

“It’s...” Dot began, but then quickly shut up, realizing that trying to explain it would only make things worse. “I’ll tell a story,” He said, trying to regain control.

"Alright, picture this," He started, his voice dripping with confidence. "There's this girl, right? Super cute, and could have anyone she wanted. Then there's this guy—let’s, uh, call him ‘Daut,’ yeah—who’s got everything: looks, charm, a real winner of a personality. And yeah, he’s interested. He’s offering all this greatness, all this potential for something amazing... but she turns him down. Just like that.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, "She had everything right in front of her, but she was too blind to see it. Like, hello? Who else was going to give her the kind of attention, the kind of awesomeness Daut brings? But nah, she rejected it. And now? She’s just sitting there, missing out on greatness. The one person who could’ve changed her life, and she tossed him aside." He leaned back casually, "Her loss, right?"

“Dot,” Malta said, slapping him lightly on the back of the head, “Your story is pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic.”

“Oh, please,” Malta cackled, rolling her eyes. “You’re just moping about rejection like a sad little puppy. Get over it.”

“I’m not moping! I’m reflecting, okay? There’s a difference!”

“Aww, look at my sensitive little bro. Do you want me to buy you a tissue for your tears, Dot? Or should I say, ‘Daut’?”

Dot swatted her hand away. “Shut up. This isn’t about me! It’s about her being stupid enough to pass up a prize like Daut. It… just so happens he has a similar personality as awesome as mine.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Oh! Oh! I have a similar story!” Lemon raised her hand enthusiastically,

She stood up. “So, there’s this guy, right? Totally amazing, could have any girl he wants! He’s got everything—strength, loyalty, charisma. He’s perfect in every way.” Her eyes flicked to Dot for a second and then to Mash, “Now, this girl? She’s a little unsure at first. She’s not sure if she’s good enough for him, you know? But eventually, she realizes—this guy? He’s the one. And guess what? He’s already hers.”

Lemon paused for dramatic effect, “And yeah, turns out, they’re already married. He was just too blind to see it at first, but it was obvious to everyone else—they were meant to be. He just… didn’t know at first, but I’ll let everyone know!”

She sat down with a satisfied smile, folding her arms. “So, yeah, pretty much the best love story ever, if you ask me.”

The group went silent for a moment, the eerie similarity to Dot’s story not lost on anyone, but it was plain obvious how this wasn’t directed to the redhead at all. A love triangle at its peak!

Dot’s face twisted into a confused frown as he stared at Lemon, realizing exactly where her story had been headed.

“Wait, hold on,” Dot looked hopeful, “You’re not talking about me, are you?”

“Huh? You?” She deadpanned, “Of course not.”

“It’s… not?!”

“Obviously it’s about me and Mash-kun’s love story~! We’re already married after all~!”

“Big sis is delusional.” Citrus side commented.

The rest of the group exchanged looks, unsure if they should laugh or groan at the awkwardness.

Famin rolled his eyes. “This is getting boring.”

“It’s very interesting, I think.” Doom nodded, seemingly invested in the food tales, romance, and even the fable.

Domina leaned forward, speaking in a low, dark voice. “Fine. I’ll tell a real story.”

His voice dropped into a somber tone, “I’ll go for a fable. There was once a proud, strong apple, a father who lived high in the branches of a towering tree. He was the best, ripest apple you’d ever seen, respected by all the other small apples. One day, this apple had a son, a small, unripe seed. The son wanted nothing more than to be loved and cherished, to feel like he mattered. But the father, too proud and hard, looked at his son and saw nothing but weakness, nothing but a tiny seed that couldn’t bloom like the others. The father deemed him ‘replaceable’. And just like that, the son was discarded, tossed away like he meant nothing at all. Alone and forgotten, the son dreamed of the day he’d become something greater where the father would recognize him. But that day never came for him. He remained lost in the soil, unnoticed and unloved, while the father continued to thrive. The son, now forgotten, learned the hard way that even the smallest seed has to fight for its place in the world, but sometimes… sometimes, no one will care enough to help it grow.”

“That’s… That’s not scary at all, that’s just tragic, Domina-san…” Finn gulped. He felt like he could relate to him somehow, even if it wasn’t specifically the same.

Delisaster yawned, “I feel like I just heard a pathetic version of Mushroom Head and pudding guy’s story. Author-san can we skip this over?”

“Fuck you.” Domina gestured with a sly grin.

The blonde audibly gasped, “Fuck you, brooding bitch!”

“Go die in a fire, pretty boy failure.”

“Go to hell, bastard!”

“I’ll drag you down with me, cocksucker.”

The two went on and on to the point that Lance and Lemon had to cover their little siblings’ ears because it was getting too rated R. Suddenly, Doom spoke up, making everyone tense up. His voice alone was way too traumatizing.

“I have a story.” He said, clasping his hands together as if ready for some kind of prayer.

“There was this girl and a blind man. She was the blind man’s first friend,” Doom continued, his gaze distant, as if reliving the moment. “He didn’t expect it. The blind man thought he was rough around the edges for anyone to want to be around. But this little girl just looked at him like he wasn’t some monster. It was the blind man’s first time being looked at like that.”

"She was so small, so innocent. And yet, she had this strength in her. She wasn’t afraid to reach out. To trust. And the blind man will never forget that. They never met again, but the blind man longed for her small hands to hold his once more."

The group sat in stunned silence, unsure how to respond to how Doom’s story was the complete opposite of what his appearance spoke. It was clear as day though, that this man was talking about Lance’s little sister.

Anna clapped her hands, “That’s such a cute story, Doom-san! It’s a bit familiar though, but still cute!”

Finn side-commented in his head.“It’s literally what happened this afternoon, Anna-chan!”

“That’s really cute. But it’s not spooky.” Delisaster grinned. “You gonna tell us about the little girl saving you from your ‘dark’ past, or what?”

Doom shot him a cold stare, “A loser virgin like you wouldn’t understand the feeling of true friendship.”

Delisaster shot him a glare, before whistling. "You know, Doom, you’d actually be a decent guy if you, I don’t know, weren’t so damn serious all the time. Like, you could try having fun for once instead of being some boring, gloomy mess."

Doom retorted, "You confuse 'fun' with 'idiocy.'"

The blonde snorted, "At least I don't stand around looking like I’m about to throw a temper tantrum. Do you seriously think that 'mysterious' act works? It’s pathetic."

"Pathetic? You’re the one who needs attention just to feel like you exist."

Delisaster's grin faltered for a second, but he quickly recovered. "I’m just living my life, man. You’re just mad ‘cause you’re stuck in the past, clinging to that whole 'I don’t care' routine like it makes you interesting."

"You can’t even tell the difference between interesting and embarrassing."

"Oh, real clever. You think you’re better than me just ‘cause you act like you don’t care?"

Doom’s voice dropped to a cold whisper. "I don’t need to try to be better than you. I already am."

Delisaster’s jaw clenched, but he couldn’t come up with a comeback fast enough before Mash broke them off. His pure strength alone moved them back towards their seats.

“Brothers don’t fight.” Our dear protagonist claimed.

Finn raised a hand shyly, “Actually, Mash-kun, they do…”

“They do?” He tilted his head, “If Finn-kun says so.”

As the group settled into their wooden seats, each with their own thoughts, Rayne remained frozen, his mind stuck on what his brother had just said.

"Actually, Mash-kun, they do."

Rayne's eyes widened in disbelief. When had he and Finn ever fought? He could hardly recall a time when he had been avoiding him these past few years... Was that what Finn considered a fight? Was that it?

Anyways, everyone turned to the last few who had yet to speak, which were Lemon’s siblings.

“I don’t have anything to tell.” Citrus crossed his arms with a pout.

Now everyone stared at Kiwi, curious if the shy little girl had a spooky story to tell or if would it be another absurd story extremely unrelated.

“I… I guess I have a short story…” Kiwi cradled her golden curls shyly. She looked down, her face turning pink as she slowly began.

“Okay, so... um, there’s this little boy, right? And one night, he’s in his bed, and he hears these... footsteps. Like, slow and quiet. He opens his eyes a little, and he sees the door to his room slowly creak open. And then... a man walks in, but not just any man. He’s carrying... um... the bodies of the boy’s parents.”

Everyone audibly gasped, not really expecting the story to actually be a horror one.

“He, like, puts them on a chair, all quiet, and then... he starts writing on the wall with their blood. The boy is really scared, so he pretends to be asleep, even though he knows the man is hiding under his bed. The boy just stays super still, trying to stay calm, and he can hear the man... breathing from under the bed. And then, after a long time, like... an hour or something, the boy’s eyes get used to the dark. He’s too scared to move, but he’s trying to read the words on the wall. It’s... really hard but... he finally reads it. And...”

Kiwi took a deep breath, her hands trembling a little. “It says... ‘I know you’re awake.’”

Lance gasped loudly, clutching onto his little sister like she was his only lifeline. Dot wasn’t much better, grabbing Malta in a panic, his usual bravado nowhere to be seen. Lemon buried her face in Citrus’ hair, peeking out between strands like she was hiding from a monster, while Finn yelped and ducked behind Rayne, who sat there with an expression colder than ice.

Doom looked impressed, Epidem seemed curious, Delisaster was grinning like it was the best thing ever, Famin smiled like a creep, Domina blinked, and Mash... well, Mash was already snoring.

“Kiwi, do you watch horror movies often?” Domina smiled eerily.

“U-Um, yes! I watch them alone b-because nii-chan and nee-chan are too scared…”

Lemon and Citrus simultaneously bonked her on the head, “We are not scared!”

However, that wasn’t the main issue at hand for the others. Domina fixed the blonde girl with a stern, unwavering stare. “Why are you letting a 12-year-old watch rated R movies by herself?”

“I-I won’t do it again! I swear, I won’t!” Lemon pleaded, her hands clasped together in a desperate attempt to avoid further scolding from Domina.

The night drifted on with the warmth of laughter and the crackle of the fire, waking Mash up from his sleep. Though he remained clueless about the context, seeing his friends and brothers spit insults and laugh was real. It felt real like they were all just together.

Sure, they were sometimes threatening each other to death, but Mash considers that to be normal. This was going so well so far. This whole beach thing isn’t such a bad idea after all.

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER FIVE ||
| Siblings and Sleepless Nights |

THE sun dipped low over the beach, painting the sky with warm oranges and purples as the last bits of campfire preparation wrapped up. Delisaster was grumbling at the water’s edge, scrubbing a stubborn dish with a little too much aggression. He muttered to himself about his “pristine, artistic hands” being forced into manual labor, while the rest of the group tried to ignore his complaints.

Further up on the beach, Mash’s brothers were packing up the remaining supplies without much of a grumble. Doom and Domina were definitely the most normal in the brothers. Mash had assigned each of them tasks, and though he could have done everything himself in half the time, he insisted they contribute.

Epidem gathered up scattered blankets, carefully folding them with an eerily calculating look. Famin simply sat down with crossed legs, unwilling to help any more while Doom handled the heavier gear with ease, hauling logs and rocks into neat piles. Domina was stuck organizing the leftover food and supplies.

While the brothers worked, the others regrouped around the cleared campfire area. Malta counted the mini houses by the beach, eyes narrowing as she surveyed. Only two huts—cozy but sparse—meant the group would have to share space for the night.

Dot let out a sigh. "So… we gotta figure out who’s bunking with who," he said, casting an anxious glance at Mash’s brothers. His voice dropped as he whispered to her, “I say we just keep Mash’s brothers in one hut so we don’t have to deal with them. Right, onee-san?”

Rayne, overhearing, shook his head. “That wouldn’t be smart. If we give them a chance to stay on their own, they’ll just be plotting something behind our backs. We can’t trust them that much yet.”

Dot’s face paled as he thought it over, and he gave a reluctant nod. “I… guess that makes sense.”

Just then, Finn spoke up. “But, um… what about the kids? I’m not sure letting them sleep near Mash’s brothers would be a good idea.” His eyes observed the three little kids standing a short distance away, chattering and giggling together.

Mash scratched his head, “What if we just split up by gender? Girls in one hut, boys in the other.”

The group exchanged looks, mulling it over. Logically, it made sense. Mash’s suggestion not only separated the group by gender but also ensured that Mash’s brothers would share the boys’ hut with Rayne, Lance and the others who could keep an eye on them. It meant that Anna, Kiwi, and the rest of the girls would have their own space, safely away from any potential trouble.

“Yeah, that… actually works out well,” Malta agreed, "It keeps the kids safe, and Rayne’s in there with them. So, we’re covered if something happens.”

“I do not agree to that.” Lance spoke up,

Dot shot him a suspicious look, quick to catch on. “Oh, let me guess—you just don’t wanna be separated from Anna, huh?” He grinned jokingly, “You know, for... certain reasons?”

Lance didn’t look like he was in the mood for bickering, immediately brushing off Dot’s assumption. “It’s not like that,” he said tersely. “I just... don’t like the idea of Anna being all alone. I promised myself I wouldn’t let her out of my sight.”

Dot rolled his eyes, convinced it was just Lance’s usual overprotectiveness—and perhaps his not-so-secret “siscon” tendencies showing through. But Malta and Lemon exchanged a softer glance, picking up on Lance’s genuine worry.

Lemon smiled at him, “Don’t worry, Lance-kun! Anna-chan will be safe with us. I’ll keep an eye on her myself, okay? You know we wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

Malta nodded. “Yeah, she’s in good hands. Besides, we’re all right next to each other, so if anything goes wrong, we’ll know.”

Lance knew Malta and Lemon meant well, but what if they weren’t prepared for the kind of trouble that could arise? He’d seen enough in his life to know how quickly things could go wrong, and Anna was—well, she was Anna. His little sister. His responsibility. Could he really trust anyone else to watch over her the way he did? Even for a moment, the thought of her out of his sight twisted his gut.

“Trust us.” Malta and Lemon said at the same time, giving him a hard time to decide.

Lance hesitated, glancing between the two. After a long moment, he let out a quiet sigh, giving in to their reassurances. “Alright… But if you even think anything’s off, I want to know.”

“We promise,” Malta gave his shoulder a small squeeze as she smiled genuinely.

With Lance’s reluctant agreement, the group finalized the sleeping arrangements, finally prepared for a night’s rest, each silently hoping for a peaceful night by the shore.

Dot was still visibly tense, glancing over his shoulder at Mash’s brothers as they walked toward their hut. But with Mash and Rayne in his company, he figured he could at least sleep a little easier, trusting that they wouldn’t let anything happen.

…Right?

< • >

The girls (and honorary girl, Citrus) stumbled into the hut, their arms loaded with beach towels, seashells, and various snacks pilfered from the campfire. As the bamboo door shut behind them, the faint sound of waves outside was replaced by an excited hum of activity inside. Lemon clapped her hands together.

“All right, ladies…and my little brother,” she began dramatically, “Tonight, we’re having the ultimate sleepover!”

Citrus groaned, flipping his long hair over one shoulder. “I’m only here because apparently, it’s ‘too dangerous’ for me to stay with the boys. I’d rather be gaming.” He pulled a handheld console from his bag and slumped onto a beanbag in the corner.

Lemon ignored him. “Okay, the first order of business—let’s do something fun! Kiwi, any ideas?”

Kiwi blinked in surprise. “Um, I-I guess we could braid each other’s hair?”

“That’s perfect!” Lemon beamed, grabbing a comb from her bag.

“I don’t have hair to braid,” Malta said, rubbing her short hair. “Guess I’m off the hook.”

“Malta nee-san!” Anna chimed in with a smile that could melt icebergs. “Oh, I see! Short hair like that must be tricky to braid. But wait—Kiwi-chan has short hair too…”

Kiwi’s expression dimmed at the blue-haired girl’s comment. She tugged at her short curls, a hint of disappointment flickering across her face—it had been her idea to braid hair, after all.

Noticing her reaction, Malta reached over and gently patted Kiwi’s fluffy hair. “Hey, I think we can still braid it,” she said. “Cute little tiny braids. They’ll look great.”

As the two talked, Lemon set her sights on a certain boy. “Citrus, we’re braiding your hair too.”

“Like hell you are,” The young boy shot back, his fingers flying over his console’s buttons.

“Aw c’mon, you’ll love it.”

“It’s a waste of time.”

“It’s a rite of passage,” Malta said, crossing her arms with an air of finality. “You’re in the girls’ hut now. You don’t get to opt-out.”

Citrus groaned louder but didn’t fight as Lemon gleefully gathered his silky hair into sections.

“Your hair is really soft.” Anna complimented him.

Citrus flushed, and just shook his head, “Stop being so nice; it’s weird.”

All the girls then formed a line right behind Citrus, who was busy playing and did not really want to be involved in this. Anna was braiding Lemon’s hair; Kiwi did Anna’s and Malta did Kiwi’s.

As the group enjoyed a cute little braiding session, Malta couldn’t help but break the silence. “So, Lemon. I’ve been meaning to ask. Your entire friend group is a bunch of boys, I wonder if you have a crush on any of them?”

Lemon turned bright red, dropping the braid she’d been working on. “C-Crush?! Me? Well, there is one… The most handsome of them all~!”

“A high school crush…” Malta said, smirking. “Cute. Tell me more.”

Kiwi giggled softly. “She doodles his name in her notebooks, you know.”

“Kiwi-chan!” Lemon gasped, mortified.

“Oh, that’s so cute!” Anna exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “It’s like something out of a storybook romance!”

“It’s embarrassing, that’s what it is,” Citrus muttered. “Can we move on? This is torture.”

The group just laughed it off, entertaining each other’s random thoughts. Even as midnight crept closer, none of them felt the slightest urge to sleep.

After a few more minutes of chatter, the braiding session finally wrapped up. Everyone leaned back to admire their handiwork, inspecting their newly styled hair.

“Anna-chan, your braid is adorable!” Lemon gushed at the mirror.

Anna blinked, then grabbed at her braid to examine it. It wasn’t just a normal braid that she wore, it was the one that required a bit of practice, and Kiwi just nailed it. “Wow! Kiwi-chan, this is amazing! How did you do this? It’s like a work of art!”

The young Irvine blushed, fidgeting with her hands. “Um… well… I like to crochet, so braiding feels kind of similar to that,” she said softly. “I don’t get to braid much because, um, my own hair is too short for it…”

“You crochet?” Anna asked, her eyes sparkling. “That’s so cool! You should show me sometime!”

Before Kiwi could respond, Malta leaned over and gently turned her toward the hut’s small mirror. “Go on, Kiwi,” she said with a grin. “Take a look at what I did with your hair.”

Kiwi hesitated, then stepped forward, her eyes widening in surprise as she caught her reflection. Despite her short curls, Malta had managed to braid and weave them into a beautifully intricate design that framed her face perfectly.

“It’s… so pretty!” Kiwi whispered, turning her head slightly to admire the way the braids caught the light. “T-thank you,” She said shyly.

Malta shrugged, grinning. “No big deal. I told you we’d make it work. Short hair’s got its charm too.”

Kiwi smiled softly, her fingers lightly touching the braids. She felt a warmth in her chest—tonight had turned out even better than she’d hoped.

“So, Citrus,” Lemon grinned. “What do you think of the braid I did for you? Pretty cute, huh?”

Citrus, who had been focused on his game again, barely glanced up. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, it looks nice. Whatever.”

“You haven’t even looked at it yet!” she yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Citrus sighed heavily, clearly not wanting to indulge her, but finally pulled out his handheld console to use the dark screen as a makeshift mirror. He caught sight of the intricate fishtail braid Lemon had spent ages perfecting, complete with tiny flowers woven into the strands.

“…Okay, fine. It’s not bad,” he mumbled, turning a little pink.

The older Irvine grinned, “Not bad? It’s a masterpiece, Citrus! Admit it!”

“Whatever,” Citrus muttered, sinking back into his beanbag.

The group settled into the room, each admiring their adorable braids. It was not until later that someone suggested a classic game of ‘Truth or Dare’ to pass the time.

“Hard pass,” Citrus rolled his eyes.

“Hard nope,” Lemon retorted, snatching the console out of his hands. “You’re playing whether you like it or not!”

The game was in full swing as everyone waited for the next embarrassing revelation or ridiculous dare.

Anna spun the empty bottle, its neck eventually stopping on Lemon. “Truth or dare?”

She grinned, completely at ease. “Truth!”

The young girl tapped her chin thoughtfully before asking, “Okay! Do you think Onii-chan is doing all right at school? He doesn’t update me a lot, so I thought I’d ask!”

The innocent question sent Lemon into a full mental spiral. Her smile froze. “Oh no. Does she not know? Does she know or not know her brother is, like, the king of siscons?!”

“Oh! Uh…” She stammered, waving her hands a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah, he’s fine! Totally fine! Just, you know… busy. Focused. On… stuff.”

The young girl tilted her head curiously. “Really? He never talks about school when he writes me letters. What’s he focused on?”

“Uh…” The blonde broke out into a nervous sweat. Abort mission! Don’t say anything weird! “You, mostly?”

“Me?” Anna asked, blinking in confusion. “That’s silly! Why would he focus on me? I’m not even there!”

Oh, Mash-kun, please give me strength. Lemon choked. “Uh, well, you know, um, siblings and stuff! He just… really cares about you!”

Anna’s eyes softened, and her expression turned into a warm, beaming smile. “Aww, that’s so sweet! Onii-chan is such a great brother!”

“Sweet?” Lemon exclaimed, her composure cracking as she flailed her arms. “It’s not sweet! It’s downright—” She cut herself off, realizing she was dangerously close to saying too much.

“It’s what?”

“Nothing!” She squeaked, her voice unnaturally high. “Absolutely nothing! Moving on!”

The others watched Lemon’s flustered meltdown with barely concealed amusement, but Anna remained blissfully oblivious to her brother’s true nature. Lemon, meanwhile, resolved never to play Truth or Dare with this girl again—her poor nerves couldn’t take it.

Citrus snickered from the corner. “This is getting good.”

“Moving on!” Lemon said loudly, spinning the bottle. This time, it pointed at Malta.

“Truth,” Malta said confidently.

Lemon grinned. “All right. Is Dot-kun doing okay?”

Malta’s expression shifted to confusion. “Huh, where’d that come from? I guess he’s… okay?”

“Well…” The blonde began, her voice lowering. “There was this one time during the whole Magia Lupus ordeal when Dot-kun—uh, he… broke all his bones protecting me.”

“All his bones?” Malta said, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah, every single one. It was kind of heroic, I guess, but—”

Malta smirked. “Wait a minute. Are you in love with my little bro?”

Lemon immediately turned green. “Hell no!” She audibly gagged. “My heart belongs to Mash-kun and Mash-kun alone! Dot-kun is just… Dot-kun.”

Malta leaned back, laughing at her disgusted reaction. “Relax, Lemon. I was just messing with you. But I’ll admit, breaking all his bones for you? That’s hardcore. Dot must’ve been in rough shape.”

“He looked like a deflated balloon!” Lemon added, which only made the older Barrett laugh harder.

The bottle spun again, landing on Malta again.

“Dare, I guess?”

“Ten pushups…? If that’s okay?” Kiwi said, her eyes sparkling in curiosity.

Malta chuckled, cracking her knuckles. “Oh, that’s all? Piece of cake.” She dropped to the floor and effortlessly cranked out ten pushups in record time. “Want me to do more?”

Kiwi shook her head, looking a little awed. “No, that’s okay.”

The bottle spun again, this time landing on Citrus.

“Truth,” he said flatly.

“Boring,” Malta teased, leaning forward with a grin. “Okay then. Who’s your secret crush? Come on, spill.”

Citrus’s face turned an impressive shade of red. “Wh-what kind of stupid question is that?! I don’t have a crush!”

“Oh, come on,” The eldest pressed. “Someone’s gotta make your little tsundere heart flutter.”

“Shut up!” He crossed his arms. “That’s not even a real question!”

“It totally is,” Malta said with a shrug. “You said ‘truth.’ You gotta answer. Is it in school? Or maybe in this room?”

The young boy huffed at the last sentence, turning away. “I don’t have one, okay?! This is why I hate this game!”

The girls erupted into laughter with Malta wiping a tear from her eye. “Oh, Citrus, you’re too easy.”

The next spin landed on Kiwi, and Citrus smirked. “Truth,” She said, in which the boy took his chance. “Tell us a secret about onee-chan.”

“That’s foul!” Lemon protested, glaring at him.

“A truth is a truth,” Citrus said smugly, leaning back.

Kiwi hesitated, fidgeting with her hands. “Um… onee-chan, do you mind if I tell them about the…”

“No, I do mind!” Lemon interrupted, but her sister hesitated only for a moment longer before spilling.

“She keeps a Mash shrine under her bed,” The youngest Irvine said softly.

“Kiwi-chan!” Lemon shrieked, grabbing a pillow to hide her face as everyone burst into laughter.

If this had been her friends from Easton, it wouldn’t have been surprising at all. But the fact that neither Anna nor Malta knew about her obsession made it all the more shocking.

“She’s like a fan club of one,” Citrus said, doubled over.

“More like a stalker.” Malta added, which made Lemon throw the pillow at her.

“Alright, alright!” Lemon shouted, her face as red as a tomato. “That’s enough! Next person please!”

The bottle spun, pointing towards the young Crown.

Citrus snapped. “Anna-chan, truth or dare?”

“Truth!”

“Have you ever been mean to someone?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

Anna pondered for a moment, heavy in thought. “Oh no, I don’t think so. Have I? Oh gosh, if I had, I’d feel terrible! Please tell me if I have!”

“Ugh, you’re so disgustingly nice it’s painful,” Citrus muttered, throwing a pillow at her, which she promptly apologized for catching. His face was red as a tomato though, for some reason.

And so the game continued, each round filled with more chaos until they were all too exhausted to move. The girls’ night was, without a doubt, one for the books—or at least one they’d never forget.

The game dissolved into a pillow fight, with Citrus doing his best to fend off his attackers using a combination of dramatic whining and expertly thrown cushions. Malta, laughing too hard to dodge, took the brunt of the attacks, while Kiwi attempted to use a crocheted blanket as a shield.

Eventually, they all collapsed into a heap, breathless and laughing.

“Okay, next on the agenda,” she announced, still giggling. “Let’s fix each other’s braids a bit and take a photo! The pillow fight made it messy.”

By the end of the night, Kiwi wore mini braids on top of her head, Anna sported infinity braids, Citrus had a fishtail braid and Lemon had twin tail braids.

“Take a picture, and I’ll murder you in your sleep,” Citrus warned.

“Too late!” Lemon said, holding up her camera triumphantly.

As the photo snapped, the group eventually settled into their sleeping bags, the sound of waves once again filling the quiet moments, Anna whispered, “This was the best night.”

“Yeah,” Malta agreed, her voice drowsy. “But next time, we’re invading the boys’ hut. I bet their snacks are better.”

And with that, the girls drifted off, their hair braided, their hearts full, and their hut filled with comfortable silence. Citrus sighed, hoping the next day, he’d be included in the boys’ hut.

< • >

The boys were having a night—though calling it "not doing well" might have been an understatement. Instead of sleeping for the night, it was nothing but chaos. For some, it meant pushing boundaries; for others, it was simply existing in the background.

Delisaster, as always, was the eye of the hurricane. He had made it his personal mission to irritate Rayne, a task he executed with precision. Perched on the edge of the couch, he held a drink in his hand, sloshing it as he turned to Finn.

"Aw, c’mon, bro," Delisaster said with a shit-eating grin. "Just one sip. Ain’t gonna kill ya. Hell, it might even make you less of a buzzkill. Ever think of that, huh?"

Finn, seated awkwardly on the opposite end of the couch, was visibly uncomfortable. "I’m underaged… I can’t drink, I’ve already told you that.” He cried out.

"But water’s fuckin’ lame," The blonde countered, leaning closer. "This is fun juice. Live a little, lil’ bro!"

Rayne, standing nearby, was losing his patience by the second. "Would you stop pestering him already? And don’t call him your little brother." He snapped, "Some of us don’t find peer pressure entertaining."

Delisaster turned to him with mock offense. "Peer pressure? Bro, c'mon. I’d never. This is what we call encouraging personal fuckin’ growth, my dude."

"Encouraging personal growth? Really?" The Sword Cane crossed his arms. "You’re unbelievable."

"Thank you! I do try."

Delisaster sighed dramatically before chugging the entire bottle of wine in one go. Who even brought that? Out of fifteen, only six of them were legally allowed to drink.

The blonde, of course, did not shut up. "Yo, about that little campfire sob story of yours, freckles," he started, all smug and shit. "You and your big bro still got that awkward-ass distance thing goin' on, or what?"

Finn froze, "I don’t—uh—what are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know," Delisaster said, gesturing vaguely with his drink. "Sibling bonding. Or, y'know, the lack of it. I mean, you two don’t exactly scream ‘we’re tight as hell,’ right? Am I right, Rayne?"

Rayne shot him a glare, "Leave him alone. That’s none of your business."

Delisaster gasped theatrically, placing a hand over his chest. "None of my business? But we’re all friends here! Sharing is caring, right, freckles?"

Finn gulped nervously. "I really don’t feel like talking about that." He does not want to have that as a topic when Rayne is right there in front of him! And to the enemy that almost killed them? Hard no!

"But why not?" Delisaster pushed, getting all up in his grill. "You’ve got that mysterious vibe, bro. The quiet, brooding type with some dark-ass past. And then we got the lil' bro, all bummed out 'cause his big bro’s too busy ignoring his ass. People eat that shit up."

"I said, back off. He doesn’t owe you an explanation."

"Touchy, touchy," Delisaster said, holding up his hands like he was the victim. "Fine, I’ll drop it. For now." He then shifted his sight onto him, "But just so you know, freckles, I’m a hella great listener. Anytime you wanna spill your guts, bro, I’m your guy."

Finn managed a weak smile, but it was clear he wasn’t planning on taking Delisaster up on that offer anytime soon. However, it did intrigue him what he would think of the situation. After all, he witnessed him call Rayne an idiot.

Rayne just rolled his eyes. "Why don’t you go bother someone else? Literally anyone else."

"Because you’re my favorite," He replied with a grin. “And you’re both so fun to mess with. It’s like a two-for-one deal."

Across the room, something else was taking place. Dot was in his sleeping bag, begging to fall asleep. Alas, Epidem was there next to him, eagerly explaining his obsession: Puddinology.

“It’s not just dessert,” The man said, “It’s a science. The way it jiggles, the balance of sweetness—it’s practically poetry in edible form.”

Dot groaned, “You’re way too into pudding, man.”

Epidem ignored the comment, leaning forward with the intensity of someone sharing a life-altering revelation. “You should join me sometime. Pudding tasting. It’ll change your world.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Dot replied, leaning further away. “No offense, but there’s no way I’m eating anything you give me. Never again.”

The man looked genuinely hurt. “Why not?”

The redhead raised an eyebrow. “Because you almost poisoned me? And you cursed Anna, remember? Forgive me if I’m not exactly lining up for seconds.”

“That was different,” Epidem protested. “That’s unrelated to pudding.”

Before the argument could continue, Lance appeared, his expression thunderous. “Dot,” he said, “Come with me. Now.”

Dot blinked, startled, as Lance grabbed his arm and practically dragged him away from his sleeping bag. “Hey, what the—Lance, relax!” Dot protested, though he made no real effort to break free.

Epidem waved as they left. “Your loss!” he called after them, though he quickly went back to muttering about pudding under his breath.

At the far end of the room, something unusual was happening. Famin sat in a corner, completely silent. No muttering, no cursing, no unsettling laughter. Just silence.

It was eerie, to say the least. Everyone noticed it, but no one dared to comment. He stared at the wall, his expression unreadable.

Even Delisaster paused briefly to glance in Famin’s direction. "Weirdo," he murmured, before returning to his mission of annoying Rayne.

Meanwhile, Domina was the picture of calm indifference. Sitting right next to Mash’s bedroll with Mash, he observed the chaos around him with a look of quiet judgment. His brothers’ antics were, as always, beneath him—or so he liked to think.

Mash, unbothered as usual, pushed a box of creampuffs toward Domina. "Want one?"

The pink-haired one hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took a creampuff. "Thanks," he said, taking a bite.

They sat in silence, sharing the box of pastries like the chaos around them wasn’t ensuing at all.

And then there was Doom.

The largest and most physically intimidating of the group, Doom was sprawled out on the floor, sound asleep. His peaceful slumber was a rare sight, and for a brief moment, it seemed like he might actually sleep through the noise.

But then Delisaster’s voice rose again, breaking the fragile quiet. "Seriously, freckles, you’re missing out—"

Doom’s eyes snapped open. He sat up slowly, his towering frame casting a shadow over the room. The noise around him ceased as everyone turned to look.

"Quiet down. I’m trying to sleep.” Doom bellowed.

The room fell silent. Satisfied, Doom lay back down. Within seconds, his eyes closed, and he was snoring again. The silence lasted for all of thirty seconds before the chaos resumed.

Delisaster, undeterred, turned back to Finn with a grin. "So, about that drink—"

Rayne groaned. "Do you ever stop?"

"Nope. It’s part of my charm."

Meanwhile, Lance was still dragging a confused Dot across the hut. He didn’t stop until they were in the farthest corner of the room.

He let go of Dot’s arm but kept his voice low and firm. “What were you doing talking to him?”

Dot frowned, rubbing his arm. “I wasn’t talking to him. He was just rambling about pudding like usual.”

“Epidem doesn’t just ramble,” Lance said, glancing at the man. “He’s dangerous. You know that.”

“I wasn’t exactly making plans to be his best friend, ‘kay? I was just trying to sleep and the dude just went and slept next to me! Not my fault!”

“That’s not an excuse,” The blue-haired boy crossed his arms, “He cursed Anna, Dot. He can’t be trusted.”

“I know that. You don’t have to act like I’m some idiot who doesn’t get it.”

Lance looked taken aback for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying you’re an idiot. I just… I don’t like seeing you anywhere near him.”

Dot tilted his head, “Why? What do you care?”

“You almost got killed by him, didn’t you?”

“Eh? You’re the one who went and sacrificed your ass! You were the one who almost died!”

“That doesn’t matter. Just…” Lance faltered, his face reddening slightly. “Just don’t get near him. Even if he’s cuffed, he’s still not sane.”

Dot smirked faintly, his frustration ebbing just enough to tease him. “You’re really bad at this whole ‘subtle concern’ thing.”

Lance glared, though the heat had drained from it. “Whatever.”

The Gravity Cane ended up pulling him to the other side of the small hut, handing him an Anna-themed sleeping bag instead of going back to retrieve the one Dot had brought. The redhead, too tired to protest, hesitated for a moment but ultimately gave in and settled into the Anna sleeping bag, too drowsy to argue.

With a sigh, Lance gazed out the window, wishing he could keep an eye on his sister as closely as he was watching over Dot at that moment.

Mash and Domina continued to eat creampuffs together in comfortable silence. After a few bites, Domina glanced around and muttered, "Do you think we could sleep through this?"

Mash, unfazed, took another bite of his creampuff. "A sleepless night isn’t good for my muscles, but you should probably try to get some rest."

Domina scoffed, shaking his head as he looked around. "Sleep is impossible with these people around.”

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER SIX ||
| Domina and the Irvines |

MALTA hummed a cheerful tune as she flipped pancakes on a portable stove, the sizzle of batter melding with the sound of waves crashing against the shore. She glanced over at the boys, sprawled across the sand in varying states of exhaustion.

“Breakfast’ll be ready soon!”

“Ugh…” Dot groaned, burying his face in his towel. “Why are mornings even a thing?”

“You’d think with how loud you snore, you’d have some energy,” Lance deadpanned.

Nearby, Delisaster stretched dramatically. “Speaking of energy, have I ever told you about my legendary drinking stamina?”

“No,” Epidem replied flatly, his spoon stirring the pudding. “And I don’t care.”

“Aw, come on, Puddin’ King! Lighten up!” He clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Yo, you gotta hit the bar with me, dude. I’ll show ya how to get just buzzed enough to not give a damn about all that lecture snooze-fest garbage and that pudding shit 'ya got goin' on."

Epidem didn’t even blink. “I could calculate your exact tipping point for inebriation based on your body weight and alcohol tolerance. It’s fascinating how quickly you’d lose coherence—approximately four drinks in, you’d be puking.”

“Four drinks?” The blonde laughed, throwing his head back. “You underestimate me, my pudding-obsessed friend. Try ten.”

“That would result in alcohol poisoning,” The latter noted, “An unpleasant way to die, though perhaps fitting for someone of your recklessness.”

Delisaster clicked his tongue. His brother wasn’t much fun to tease—he was too dull and never seemed affected by anything he said. That’s why the Ames Brothers were his preference.

They acknowledged Delisaster’s presence a lot.

Further down the beach, Doom stretched his arms. His imposing frame moved with surprising grace as he adjusted his blindfold. “Mash.”

Mash, who was quietly munching on a creampuff nearby, tilted his head. “What’s up?”

“Jog?” He asked simply.

Mash blinked, then nodded. “Sure.”

The two set off down the shore at a steady pace. The sight of the largest, most intimidating sibling casually jogging alongside Mash was enough to make Finn glance nervously.

“Do they… talk when they’re together?” he muttered to the older Barrett.

“Nope,” Malta replied, flipping a pancake. “But I bet they’re having the time of their lives.”

Famin emerged from behind a rock, his grin stretched wide and unnervingly calm. Once again, he was eerily silent, his gaze fixed on what seemed like nothing. It was this unsettling focus that made Dot freeze in fear when he realized the "nothing" Famin was staring at was actually him.

The redhead tensed. "Do you need anything…?”

"Oh, nothing much. Just curious," Famin tilted his head, tapping his clown collar rhythmically. "You ever hear of a guy named Orter Madl?"

Dot and Lance both tensed. Famin was looking for Orter? Was that why he was so quiet? They both knew all too well that their mentor was the one who had defeated Famin. Was this some sort of grudge?

“I know he’s a Divine Visionary, I guess. That’s about it,” Dot lied.

Famin’s gaze didn’t waver, his breath slow and heavy. For a moment, Dot felt an almost reflexive urge to grab his wand and retreat.

“Is that so?” Famin finally spoke, his voice unnervingly flat. He stood, turned away, and casually snatched the fresh burgers off the stove, leaving the two there.

Dot let out a sigh. "What the hell was that about?"

Lance stared out at the sea, his voice low. "He’s looking for someone connected to Orter-san. And I think we just became his target.”

"Great. Just what we need."

Lance’s shoulders slumped as he glanced over at Anna, his tone shifting. "I don’t have time to deal with his revenge. I’ve got bigger concerns."

Meanwhile, the girls were the polar opposite of the tense atmosphere the boys had. Lemon, Anna, and Kiwi were bubbling with excitement, chattering about swimming and daring each other to dive into the cold water first. Citrus stared at them, his entire body submerged in the salty water.

Among the chaos, Domina sat quietly under a tree, his mismatched eyes scanning the shoreline. He wasn’t a fan of crowds, especially this noisy, unpredictable group. His crew in Walkis were also a bit annoying, but tolerable. But there was one constant he could always tolerate—Mash.

Domina stood, brushing sand off his shorts, and approached Finn. “Hey, you.”

Finn jumped, nearly dropping the spatula. “Oh! Domina-san… was it? Um, what’s up?”

Finn was panicking, he did not expect to have to interact with any of Mash’s brothers other than the talkative polearm user.

“Where’s Mash-kun?” Domina asked coldly.

Finn blinked, scratching the back of his head. “Oh, uh… jogging, with um, Doom-san. He always does that in the mornings.”

Domina’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Oh,” he murmured, unsure of what to do now. “Are you going to swim?”

“Not yet,” Finn replied, glancing nervously at Malta, “I promised to help cook first.”

Domina looked down, a faint pout forming on his lips. He didn’t want to swim alone, but waiting around felt just as bad.

Why was he here again? Why had he agreed to Mash’s ridiculous plan in the first place? He cared about his younger brother, sure, but the rest of his siblings? They were all unbearable.

He wanted to feel loved and appreciated, didn’t he? But this trip wasn’t going to make him feel any of that, and treating his criminal brothers with kindness wasn’t going to lead to any good outcome either. So what was keeping him here? What was driving him to endure all of this?

The way the sea clashed against the shore—that’s how he felt now.

Why was he even at the beach? What was it about this place that had drawn him in?

“Um…” A soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

Domina turned to see Kiwi standing a few steps away, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She seemed nervous, her cheeks pink as she glanced at him.

“Um, do you… want to swim…?” She asked, her voice barely audible.

Domina blinked. “What?”

“You looked like you wanted to swim,” Kiwi continued. “If you… if you don’t want to go alone, we could… um, go together?”

He hesitated, glancing between her and the shore. “I don’t know…”

Before he could finish, Lemon and Anna ran over, cheering. “Yes! Kiwi-chan, you’re amazing!” Her big sister said, throwing an arm around her. “He totally needs to get in the water!”

“Let’s go, Domina-san!” Anna added with an encouraging smile. “It’ll be fun!”

Domina looked away, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden attention. Being noticed like that wasn’t something he expected. But then Kiwi stepped closer, her small hand brushing his sleeve.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” She said. “But… I think you’d have fun. And I want to be friends with you... if that's okay.”

Her sincerity caught him off guard, and he finally nodded, almost shyly. “Alright. I’ll go.”

The girls cheered, pulling him toward the water. Kiwi stayed by his side, she was a quiet presence that Domina found warming. A comforting presence similar to Mash.

As they reached the sea, Anna splashed playfully. “Domina-san, you can do water magic, right?”

Lemon looked amazed, “Whoah! Can you make the waves bigger?”

He frowned, unsure. “I don’t think—”

“Pleeease?” The oldest Irvine begged, her hands clasped together dramatically.

“Nee-chan, don’t force him if he doesn’t want to.” Kiwi softly pushed his big sister. “You don’t have to do things you don't want to do, Domina-san."

Something about her tone made him relax. “It's alright,” he said, grabbing his wand from his swimming trunk. The water responded instantly, waves growing taller and faster, sending shrieks of delight from the two girls.

“This is awesome!” Lemon shouted, diving into the waves with Anna.

Domina lingered near the shore, his gaze fixed on the others as they played in the water.

Kiwi was close by, her laughter light as the waves kissed her legs. “Your magic is really… pretty.”

“Thanks…” Domina muttered, his eyes quickly drifting elsewhere. “But it’s not as beautiful as you think it is.”

His voice dropped, his shoulders slumping as his thoughts turned inward. He lowered his head, haunted by the memory of those who had bled at his hands, victims of his water magic—the very magic that had been twisted by his father’s expectations. Magic used for approval. Magic used to hurt.

"Please don't kill me..."

"Stay away!"

"I’m sorry, 'kay? Get away from me!”

His throat tightened at the thought. “My magic... is called pretty.” The same magic that left destruction in its wake, that tore lives apart—was called beautiful. He could almost hear his father's praise in the background, but it felt empty now, like the cruelest of lies.

Kiwi’s soft voice broke through his grim thoughts. “B...but it is,” She said. “It’s as pretty as you, Domina-san.”

His cheeks flushed faintly, and he opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden yell cut through the air.

“HELP!”

Domina's heart hammered in his chest as he saw Citrus flailing helplessly in the deep water. The young boy’s limbs floundered against the rising waves, his face stricken with panic as the churning sea pulled him deeper.

“No, no, no—this isn’t supposed to happen.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

His hands trembled as he clutched his wand, it felt cold against his palm. His heart raced in sync with his thoughts, each one louder than the last.

The others were shouting now, but their voices sounded distant as his mind locked onto the sight of Citrus struggling.

“He’s… he’s going to die. My magic… is going to kill him if I…”

With a burst of desperation, Domina snapped his wrist. The waves surrounding Citrus immediately calmed, their violent surges diminishing into gentle ripples.

Domina’s breathing was shallow, his magic was always unintentional when emotions took over, but right now, the panic inside him was suffocating.

Citrus finally sputtered to the surface, gasping for air.

“I almost killed him.” Domina’s breath came in ragged gasps, and despite his usual icy demeanor, he felt his chest tighten with guilt. “I didn’t mean to—"

He searched everywhere for Mash, even though he knew he wasn’t there. His eyes darted around frantically, praying no one was blaming him, hoping no one thought he’d tried to hurt a child. But deep down, Domina was certain they’d all seen it. “What if I had...”

“Citrus! Are you okay?” Lemon said frantically, dragging him off-shore.

The young boy coughed and spluttered, "Y-yeah... I'm fine... just... got a little carried away, is all."

Guilt gnawed at Domina as he watched the others help Citrus to shore. He’d almost hurt someone—again. His shoulders slumped.

“I’m never using my magic again.”

He was still that killer, wasn’t he? The one who used his magic to hurt. The one who was only ever seen for what he could do, never for who he truly was. His father’s words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder that no matter how hard he tried to change, he’s still the same.

He didn’t deserve to be loved.

Not when he was still just a tool—a weapon meant to please his father. His magic would always be used for destruction, no matter what anyone said.

Mash shouldn't have seen the good in him. He didn’t even know if there was any good left. It was all just lies he told himself. He couldn’t change. He was the same as he always was.

The touch of a small hand on his arm broke his chain of thought.

“Domina-san?” Kiwi looked at him. Before he could pull away, she wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t hurt him.”

Domina stiffened, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. "I… I don't deserve to be here. I shouldn't be around you. If you keep staying with me... you'll end up dead, too."

Kiwi looked up at him, her face filled with confusion and a bit of sadness. "I don't think that way, Domina-san," she said softly. "You're not a bad person.”

“…Why are you even trying to talk to me?”

“That’s because I don’t think you deserve to be alone, D-Domina-san…”

“But I do.”

Her voice grew quieter, almost shy. "I just… I saw you looking so lonely, and I couldn't leave you like that. I… I’ve always been lonely too. At school, I didn’t really have anyone to talk to. So when I saw you, I just… I wanted to help."

Domina’s heart twisted painfully as he watched Kiwi’s face crumple with tears. Before he could stop himself, his own eyes began to sting, and tears welled up in his own eyes.

“I’m sorry, Kiwi-chan. I didn’t mean to make you cry…”

Kiwi sniffled, shaking her head as her arms tightened around him. "You don’t have to apologize, Domina-san. But… please let me be your friend…”

Lemon, having watched the scene unfold, walked over with a warm smile, patting both of them on the back. "Seriously, both of you don’t have to cry. It wasn’t Domina-kun’s fault anyway. Citrus is the one who doesn't know how to swim."

“I do know how to swim!” Citrus muttered stubbornly.

Anna pouted at him, “I’ll teach you how to swim properly, Citrus-kun. You just need to stop being rash and calm down, okay?”

“I’m not a child!” The young Irvine snapped, but there was a soft blush on his cheeks as he glared at Anna.

Lemon chuckled, shaking her head. "See? My stupid brother doesn’t know what he’s doing." She turned back to Domina. "But it wasn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself, okay?"

Domina’s guilt still lingered. "But… I nearly…"

"Nope," She cut him off, "Citrus was the one who got too carried away. If anything, I’m also to blame, since I asked you to make the waves stronger. You didn’t do anything wrong."

“I didn’t do anything wrong?”

How could she say that so easily?

“But I made the waves. I lost control. If anything had gone wrong... Can it really be that simple?”

Lemon paused, her smile growing sly. "And by the way, once me and Mash-kun get married, you’ll be my brother-in-law, Domina-kun. So, no hard feelings!” She then went full-on delusional again.

“W-what?"

Lemon just grinned. "You’re practically my family already! Oh you! Trying to get close to your sister-in-law!”

“Shut up, nee-san!” Citrus groaned.

Domina looked over at Kiwi, who had been quietly watching. Her smile was small but genuine. “Um… please d-don’t worry about it…”

Was it really okay for him to be here?

To be apart of something like this?

Kiwi smiled, “Domina-san, it’s going to be okay.”

He nodded at her, his small tears lingering. "Thank you, Kiwi-chan. I’ll try."

The rest of the day unfolded in a strange but comforting rhythm. They spent time together building sandcastles, with Domina’s magic helping to keep the sand buildings sturdier. He had been hesitant to use his magic again, but Kiwi and Lemon reassured him, and it felt different this time.

He was using it for something good, not destruction.

Once their hair had dried, Lemon suggested they braid each other’s hair before taking another swim.

"I don’t know how to braid hair," Domina admitted.

"I can teach you." Kiwi took his hair in her hands. "It’s similar to crocheting, actually, which is one of my hobbies. D…Do you have any hobbies, Domina-san?"

A hobby? Domina didn’t know the answer. "I don’t really have anything like that.”

"C-Crocheting is a good hobby. You should try it sometime… I’ll teach you, if that’s okay.”

"You think I’d like it?"

"I think you’d really enjoy it."

In that moment, Domina realized something he hadn’t let himself think about before. Maybe he wasn’t as broken as he thought. Maybe there was still a chance for him to be someone who deserved to be happy.

But from a distance, Delisaster watched with distaste, muttering to himself, "What’s with Domina? Is he trying to get all the girls now?"

Mash, who had just arrived from his jogging, glanced over his brother. "I’m glad Domina’s getting along with Lemon-chan’s siblings.”

Delisaster glanced at Mash and snorted, turning away. “Whatever. Not like it’ll last. Domina’s still Domina.”

The blonde’s words went deaf to Domina’s ears. Instead, he was focused on the warmth spreading through his chest—the rare, fragile feeling of belonging. Here, with these people, he didn’t feel so alone. He felt appreciated. Loved.

Kiwi’s words echoed in his mind, lingering like the softest melody. “Your magic… it’s so pretty.”

He gazed out toward the shimmering ocean waves, his thoughts drifting. The question that had been buried in the back of his mind resurfaced. Why was I even at the beach? What was it about this place that had drawn me in?

The answer wasn’t complicated—it was a simple one that anyone in that place must’ve had the same reason.

“I loved watching the ocean waves.”

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER SEVEN ||
| Delisaster and the Ames Brothers |

MALTA leaned back on her foldable beach chair, watching Domina play by the sea with Lemon, Anna, and Kiwi. Their laughter blended harmoniously with the soothing sea breeze.

She adjusted her sunglasses, peering over at the boys' side. “The girls are having fun. Why don’t you three do something too? Like… cook!”

“What?” Rayne’s expression twisted into a scowl.

“Cook?” Finn squeaked, already looking overwhelmed.

“Absolutely!” Delisaster slapped his chest. “Leave it to me. The Grill Master is here!”

Rayne mumbled. “Do you even know how to cook?”

“Grill Master Deli doesn’t just cook; he creates culinary experiences,” He shot back with exaggerated flair, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of nowhere and putting them on dramatically.

Malta just shook her head. “Great. Now make lunch for all of us, aight? Have fun!”

Now, Rayne regretted not protesting harder. Delisaster sat nearby, rummaging through the cooler with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Relax, dude. You’re in the presence of culinary greatness,” He declared, dramatically pulling out a mango. “Grill Master Delisa has arrived.”

Rayne glared at the blonde, “For the record, I think this is a terrible idea.”

“Oh, don’t be such a buzzkill, Rayne-kun. You just hate fun,” Delisaster shot back, rifling through the cooler. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got here... ooh, bread! Mangoes on bread sounds good!”

Finn dropped a sweat. “Uh, maybe stick to the basics? You know… meat and seasoning?”

“Basics? Pfft.” Delisaster waved him off. “That’s boring. This is about layered flavors. You wouldn’t understand it yet since I am a culinary expert.”

He began tossing random ingredients onto the prep table: mangoes, bread, hot sauce, soda, and even marshmallows.

Rayne pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is going to end badly.”

Delisaster ignored them, humming a tune as he fired up the grill. He has to toast the bread to the quality that a toaster could but in a pan. At first, things seemed to go smoothly—until they didn’t.

The first sign of disaster from Delisaster was the plume of thick, black smoke that erupted from the grill. The bread, too, was pitch black.

Finn coughed, waving his arms to disperse the cloud. “I don’t think it’s supposed to do that…”

“Totally normal,” Delisaster assured, “Just a little extra char for that smoky flavor!”

As expected, things just got worse. Flames licked at the edges of the grill as the blonde disaster attempted to salvage the burning food. “No worries, I’ve got this! Ice bath!”

He then grabbed a nearby cooler filled with ice water and shoved the whole loaf of bread into it.

“What are you doing?!” Finn shrieked, attempting to stop him.

“Trust the process!” Delisaster dunked the smoking food into the cooler.

“You just made our bread soggy, Delisaster-san…”

“Finn, leave him be. Don’t involve yourself.” Rayne scoffed before shifting his gaze to the ‘cook’. “This is why no one trusts you with anything important.”

But Delisaster wasn’t deterred. Pulling the soggy burnt bread out of the cooler, he attempted to transfer it back to the grill—only to drop it onto the sand.

“Look at that!” he exclaimed, unphased. “Free breading for our bread!”

The Ames brothers facepalmed in unison.

“Enough,” Rayne snapped, snatching the tongs out of his hands. “You’ve done enough damage. Step aside.”

“Excuse me? Grill Master Deli doesn’t just step aside—”

“This isn’t up for debate.”

Finn stammered quietly, “Um, nii-sama, I can—”

“No, Finn. You’re not involved in here.”

The two launched into a heated argument, Delisaster adamant about his “culinary genius” while Rayne systematically tore apart every point with cold, cutting logic.

“This isn’t about cooking for you,” Rayne said, jabbing a finger at his chest. “This is about attention, is it? You just want people to look at you, no matter how stupid you have to act to get it.”

The words hit harder than either of the Ames brothers expected.

Delisaster froze, his confident grin faltering. “What can I say? Guilty as charged.”

Rayne crossed his arms. “That’s pathetic.”

“Yeah, well… not everyone gets noticed, you know? Sometimes you have to work for it. Even if it’s just by being the loudest guy in the room.” The blonde shook his head, “Well, I guess since you’re a Divine Visionary, you’re probably already tired of the spotlight, aren’t ‘ya? Unlike me, you get attention no matter what you do!”

The younger Ames blinked, surprised by the sudden vulnerability in Delisaster’s tone.

Delisaster glared at the Sword Cane. “You think I like being this way? Going to all those parties, drinking until I can’t stand? It’s fake, man. The attention’s fake. But at least it’s something.”

Rayne stared at him, his expression unreadable.

Finn, on the other hand, stepped forward hesitantly. “I… I kind of get it.”

Both Delisaster and Rayne turned to him in surprise.

Finn fiddled with the hem of his shirt, avoiding their gazes. “I know what it’s like to feel… inadequate. Like you’re always falling short, no matter how hard you try. Like you have to do something just to feel something. I mean, look at me. I’m always comparing myself to everyone else—nii-sama, Mash-kun, even Lance-kun. It’s exhausting.”

Delisaster’s eyes softened, and for once, he didn’t have a snarky comeback.

Finn couldn’t help but think back to what Mash had once said when he noticed how Mash’s brother reacted to his cheesy words.

“They’re not bad guys, Finn-kun. They’ve also had a rough road to walk, like us.”

It was Mash’s simplicity that had struck him the most. No matter how dangerous or chaotic his “brothers” seemed, Mash always believed they deserved a second chance. It was a perspective Finn struggled with, especially when it came to Delisaster.

After all, the man wanted and probably still wants to kill him.

But now, as Finn watched Delisaster fumble with tongs and squabble with Rayne, he didn’t see the same danger. There was something else—something almost… lonely.

“This is a good step,” He thought. He wasn’t just doing it for Delisaster’s sake but for Mash, too.

“Delisaster-san, I…”

“What are you doing, Finn?”

Rayne’s voice cut through the moment like a knife. Finn turned to see his older brother’s gaze, and it didn’t look one bit similar to how he expected.

“Nii-sama?”

Rayne’s gaze fixed on Delisaster, sharp as a blade. “No. You shouldn’t be talking to him.”

“…Why not?”

“Because he’s dangerous,” He said flatly. “He’s manipulative, reckless, and insane. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. You know better than to see the good in people like him.”

Delisaster crossed his arms, his frown twisting into a smirk. “Aw, you’re making me blush, Rayne-kun. Say more nice things.”

“I’m serious,” The Sword Cane said. “He’s not worth your time, Finn.”

Finn’s chest tightened with every “no” Rayne threw his way. Each refusal made him feel smaller, like the progress he’d made didn’t matter. He had fought beside his brother, but none of that seemed to change how Rayne saw him.

With every rejection, Finn’s frustration grew. It felt as though his brother was treating him like a child again, and it stung more than he expected. He had done everything to prove he could stand on his own, yet Rayne’s words always seemed to push him back.

The weight of it finally broke through. Finn’s voice cracked, unable to stay contained any longer. He didn’t want to be the helpless one anymore; he just wanted his brother to trust him.

“Nii-sama…” His fists clenched at his sides. “Do you really not trust me to handle myself…?”

Rayne’s angered eyes suddenly softened. He didn’t expect his brother to interpret it that way. “Finn, that’s not what I meant.”

“Really?” Finn’s voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Because it sure sounds like it. I thought… I thought we were okay now.”

Rayne frowned, clearly taken aback. “Finn—”

“No…” Finn cut him off, his emotions spilling over. “We fought together, nii-sama! Against bigger threats than him! You even went out of your way to get those cuffs because I asked you to! You… you came to the beach with me!”

His voice trembled as he continued, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I thought that meant something. I thought you finally saw me as more than the crying kid from that cardboard box in the back alley! But you only did that ‘cause you still saw me that way, didn’t you?”

Rayne froze.

Delisaster, uncharacteristically quiet, glanced between the brothers. He didn’t look panicked or happy, but the way he saw the situation, he was undoubtedly curious.

“Is that all I’ll ever be to you? Someone who needs protecting? Someone who can’t make their own decisions?”

Rayne couldn’t speak. He didn’t speak. His silence was louder than any words could have been.

The memories Finn had buried for years clawed their way to the surface. The cold, damp cardboard box that barely kept the rain out. The feeling of Rayne’s arms around him, shielding him from the world. The overwhelming relief when his brother carried him away from that nightmare.

But now, Finn couldn’t bear to feel that small again.

“I’m not that kid anymore,” he said, “I’ve grown, nii-sama. You said so yourself… but I guess you saw that differently. I’ve fought my battles, and made my choices. And I need you to trust me. Not because I’m your little brother, but because I’ve earned it.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just—” He stopped, struggling to find the words.

“Just what? What are you so afraid of?”

The silence hung heavy in the air.

“Aw, isn’t this touching,” Delisaster drawled, breaking the tension. His grin was back, but it lacked its usual edge. “Brotherly love at its finest. Almost makes me tear up. But haven’t you two already gone through this a few weeks ago or something?”

Rayne shot him a glare.

“Delisaster-san’s right, nii-sama. I… I really thought we were past this misunderstanding.”

The Sword Cane shot another ice-cold stare at the blonde, as if he was angry that he was influencing his little brother.

Delisaster held up his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Ice King. I’m just saying, freckles there got a point. You’re treating him like a fragile little thing when he’s clearly not.” He tilted his head, “Kid’s got guts, standing up to you like that.”

Finn blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment.

“Stay out of this, Delisaster.”

“Why?” Delisaster countered, “Because I’m a bad influence? Because I don’t fit your perfect little mold of what’s safe and acceptable? Newsflash, Rayne-kun: the world doesn’t work like that. You can’t bubble-wrap your brother forever.”

Rayne bristled, but Finn stepped between them before the argument could escalate.

“That’s enough!” Finn then turned to Rayne, “I just don’t get it, nii-sama… I don’t get us.”

Rayne looked at him, the conflict in his eyes clear.

“And you,” Finn said, turning to the blonde. “Stop making it worse.”

Delisaster grinned. “Making it worse is kind of my thing, freckles.”

“Well, stop,” He said firmly. “If you want people to see you differently, maybe stop acting like a jerk all the time.”

Delisaster chuckled, but there was something in his face that felt different.

His grin remained, but something in his gaze shifted. There was a hint of respect there, something he hadn’t expected from Finn. The way Finn faced him head-on, not hiding behind Rayne like before, made Delisaster pause—there was something endearing about it.

Finn’s feet pounded against the sand as he ran away almost suddenly. The beach stretched endlessly in every direction, the waves crashing in rhythmic applause as if mocking his escape.

He didn’t stop until his legs burned and his breath came in ragged gasps. Finally, he collapsed near a rocky outcrop, burying his face in his knees.

“Why does he always treat me like that?” he muttered to himself. “Like I’m still that scared little kid…”

Back at the grill, Rayne’s gaze was fixed on the direction Finn had run. Without a word, he moved to follow.

“Whoa there, Ice King.” Delisaster stepped in front of him, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Move,” Rayne said coldly.

He didn’t flinch. “What’s the move here, bro? You gonna storm in and hit him with another TED Talk? Tell him he’s got, like, too many feels? Yeah, sick plan—totally gonna fix it all.”

“This is none of your business,” The Sword Cane snapped. “He’s my brother.”

“Yeah, and you're really killing it at showing you care,” Delisaster shot back. “Look, I get it, man. You're trying to be the big protector. But here’s the kicker: you're smothering him, not helping him.”

“…You don’t know anything about us.”

His mind, however, was already racing. Did Delisaster have a point? Was he really suffocating Finn instead of protecting him? The thought was as unwelcome as it was persistent.

Finn had always been the timid one, the one who needed shielding—but maybe that wasn’t who he was anymore. He did fight with him but that was because he had no choice, right?

“Maybe not,” Delisaster admitted, crossing his arms. “But I know what it’s like, dude. Having someone right up on your grill, acting like you’re gonna shatter if they sneeze. You’re not doing him any favors by treating him like some fragile little kid who can’t handle his own stuff.”

Rayne opened his mouth to retort but stopped.

“Look, I’m not saying you’re a bad bro. But you gotta stop acting like this is all on you to fix. Freckles there got his own battles, man. And if you keep stepping in every time, you’re just holding him back from leveling up.”

Rayne’s mind raced, his thoughts tangling in a web of doubt. He wanted to protect Finn yet never acknowledged him as he was. He’d always justified his protectiveness as necessary.

But now, he couldn’t shake the gnawing question—had he misread Finn all along?

“And what about you?” Rayne asked, his voice low. “Do you treat your little brothers like that? Mash? Domina?”

Delisaster chuckled, “Nah, that mushroom head’s a complete idiot, and bubblegum bro and I? Yeah, we’re not exactly trading friendship bracelets.”

“…Really now?”

The blonde sighed for a straight three seconds and yawned. “Nah, I don’t always take my own advice. Should I? Yeah, maybe. But hey, the best advice comes from the dudes who totally screw it up first, right? It’s like, a life hack.”

Rayne crossed his arms, “That’s a convenient excuse.”

“Yeah, well, sue me.” Delisaster’s grin returned, “Point is, maybe chill on the control freak mode and actually listen for once. You’d be shocked at what people can handle when you stop acting like the world’s their babysitter.”

Rayne considered his words. He hated to admit it, but there was a frustrating amount of truth in what Delisaster was saying.

“You’re a lot more insightful than you let on,” Rayne said grudgingly. “Why are you even saying all this? What do you care about Finn? Or me?”

Delisaster blinked. “Maybe I just like playing therapist.”

“You’re deflecting. Do you have some kind of ulterior motive?”

“Ulterior motive?” He tilted his head with mock offense. “Damn, even after all that, you still think I’m the bad guy?”

Rayne crossed his arms, waiting.

Inwardly, Delisaster sighed. Why was he saying all this, really? He wasn’t doing it for Rayne or for himself.

No, if he was being honest with himself, it was Finn. Finn reminded him of someone—a little scrappy but damn, he’s got guts talking back at him like that. And Delisaster respected that. He respected Finn.

“I just think your lil' bro deserves better,” He said, “He’s a solid dude. He’s actually trying, you feel me? And maybe I’m just not vibing with seeing guys like him getting held back by guys like you.”

Rayne blinked, “People like me?”

“Overprotective big brothers with a stick up their ass,” He clarified with a smirk. “No offense.”

Rayne stared at him for a long moment, unsure whether to be insulted or just take the damn advice. “You’re insufferable.”

“Takes one to know one, Ice King.”

For a moment, the two stood in silence, the sound of the waves filling the space between them.

“Go after him,” Delisaster said finally. “But this time, don’t roll in as the overprotective big bro. Go in as the dude who actually believes in him.”

Without another word, Rayne turned and headed down the beach, leaving the blonde disaster behind.

Delisaster groaned, muttering to himself, "Why the hell did I even bother helping them?" He could still feel the sting of that time when Rayne and Freckles took him down. If he ever ran into those two again, they'd be dead. Simple as that. No mercy.

But... here he was, helping them. The irony hit him hard.

"What the hell am I doing?"

He laughed bitterly, remembering when Rayne actually listened to him just a few minutes ago. No sarcastic smirk, no cold shoulder.

Rayne was... actually paying attention. Finn too. It felt nice. Damn nice. He couldn’t help but want more of it.

Delisaster scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Man, I'm such a damn attention whore."

< • >

Rayne spotted Finn sitting alone by a rocky outcrop, staring out at the horizon, his posture hunched and distant.

He had to fix this—had to make things right. Slowly, carefully, he walked over, his steps soft on the sand.

“Finn,” Rayne’s voice was quiet.

Finn didn’t look up, “What is it, nii-sama?”

The older Ames swallowed, sitting down beside him. “I’ve been thinking about what happened. About everything.”

Finn remained silent, his eyes fixed on the waves, but Rayne could feel the distance between them, the unspoken hurt hanging in the air.

“After we fought Delisaster,” Rayne began, his voice low, “I thought we had it under control. I saw how strong you’ve gotten. I saw you fight with everything you had. But then… Doom happened.”

Finn’s shoulders stiffened, and for a moment, Rayne regretted bringing it up. But the words tumbled out before he could stop them.

“When I saw you so battered, so broken after that fight…” His voice was surprisingly soft, “I don’t know, Finn. I wished you hadn’t been in that fight at all. I don’t want to see you hurt like that. I don’t want to watch you get torn apart.”

Finn’s gaze shifted slowly to meet his big brother’s, a flicker of surprise and pain crossing his face. He looked at his older brother for a long moment.

“I understand you, Nii-sama, but…” Finn’s voice was soft but firm. “I’m not the same as I was before. I can handle myself. You’ve been protecting me for so long, but now, I need you to believe in me.”

“I do… I…"

As the waves crashed softly in the background, Finn glared at Rayne, fists clenched.

“You don’t believe in me, do you?” His voice cracked, “You say you do, but you don’t. Not really.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then why are you even here?” Finn’s frustration bubbling over. “Why did you let me come here if it’s so dangerous? I thought you trusted me. I thought we could just… hang out, y’know, like brothers for once. But I guess not. You’re just here to babysit me again, aren’t you?”

Rayne’s brow furrowed. “Finn, I did come here to hang out with you. I do trust you. But when I saw Delisaster and Doom…” He paused, running a hand through his hair, “How could I not worry? You’ve seen what they’re capable of. But like you said, I—”

“You don’t have to protect me! How many times do I have to tell you that? I don’t need—”

“I know, Finn. You’re right.” Rayne’s sharp tone silenced him mid-sentence.

Finn blinked, “What?”

“You’re absolutely right,” Rayne repeated, his voice heavy with guilt. “You don’t need me to protect you. And I’ve been a terrible brother for not seeing that. For not believing in you.” He looked away, “You’re my only family left, Finn. I don’t know how to… how to stop worrying. But that’s not fair to you.”

Finn’s anger ebbed. For the first time, Rayne was being vulnerable right in front of him. He isn’t trying to act strong either.

Rayne turned back to him. “You’ve grown up, Finn. And I need to stop treating you like a kid. I just…” He sighed. “I can’t lose you. But I know I have to trust you. You deserve that.”

Finn’s chest felt tight. For so long, he wanted his big brother to see him as more than just someone to protect, and now, hearing those words, it felt unreal.

Without thinking, he moved forward and hugged his brother tightly. Rayne stiffened, clearly caught off guard, but Finn didn’t let go.

Slowly, Rayne’s hand rested awkwardly on Finn’s back, clearly not used to such gestures.

“Thank you,” Finn whispered, his face pressed against his brother’s shoulder.

He then pulled back, muttering. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean it; I was just upset.”

Rayne shook his head, “You don’t need to apologize. I deserved it.”

Rayne wasn’t just admitting his mistakes—he was trusting Finn, truly trusting him.

Finn nodded, his throat too tight to speak. In that moment, all the frustration and anger melted away. He felt lighter, much more than when they fought Delisaster.

Rayne gave him a small, rare smile. “Don’t expect me to get all soft like this again, Finn.”

Finn let out a small laugh, wiping his eyes. “Okay, nii-sama.”

As they stood there, Finn didn’t feel like the weak little brother—he felt like an equal.

“Finn,” He called, “You don’t have to call me ‘nii-sama.’ Just ‘nii-san’ is fine. It sounds better.”

< • >

Finn and Rayne returned to the kitchen area. They were greeted by the chaotic sight of Delisaster proudly presenting his latest concoction. "Feast your eyes! Mango bread, comin’ in hot!"

The brothers exchanged a wary glance before focusing on the "masterpiece" in front of them. The loaf of bread was littered with coarse sand—aka "breadcrumbs"—and the mango slices were unevenly hacked and merely slapped on top, a forlorn attempt at decoration.

Rayne sighed, "As a polearm user, you surprisingly suck at slicing things."

Delisaster shrugged. "It’s abstract, bro. Like, straight-up culinary masterpiece vibes, ya feel me?"

Finn took a deep breath. "Deli-san."

Delisaster froze, his eyes widening slightly at the unexpected nickname. Finn had called him “Deli-san”—a term that suggested familiarity and maybe even respect?

Trying to suppress the soft feeling creeping into his chest, Delisaster spat, "What’s up, lil bro? You here to bask in the glow of my genius?"

"Why don’t you let me handle the cooking this time?" He rolled up his sleeves and began gathering ingredients. "Nii-san, I’ll need you to whip the egg whites until they’re stiff peaks. Deli-san, can you grease the ramekins?"

Rayne raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised at how effortlessly Finn had taken charge. Still, he grabbed a whisk and got to work.

Delisaster reluctantly complied. "Greasin’ ramekins? Man, that’s totally below my skill level! But hey, if Freckles says it’s a must, guess I’ll roll with it.”

Finn folded the whipped egg whites into the batter with delicate care. Rayne glanced over occasionally, impressed but not wanting to interrupt. Delisaster, meanwhile, pretended not to be too interested but couldn’t stop himself from sneaking peeks at Finn’s progress.

The first batch of soufflés were soon placed in the oven.

Delisaster crossed his arms, pretending to inspect the oven. "Yo, I guess this might actually be, like, chow-worthy or somethin'! Good job, dude!”

Finn chuckled softly. "Thanks, Deli-san. I’m glad you think so."

When the soufflés emerged, golden and perfectly risen.

Delisaster took a bite, his expression unreadable at first. Then he smirked, trying to play it cool. "Not bad, lil bro-in-training. But don’t go thinkin’ you’re top dog or nothin’, alright?"

“Whatever you say, Deli-san.”

Delisaster leaned closer to Rayne as they worked side by side in the kitchen.

"So, uh, you and lil’ freckles finally made up or somethin'?" He grinned slyly, "It’s kinda cute, you know, seeing you two all brotherly. Warms the heart, man."

"Cute isn’t exactly the word I’d use. But… thanks," Rayne muttered reluctantly, refusing to look at him in the eye.

"Aww, big bro’s going soft on me," The blonde teased, "I knew I’d get through that icy shell eventually."

"Keep talking and you’ll be the next ingredient in this soufflé."

Delisaster raised his hands in mock surrender, before strutting over to Finn in retreat, who was focused on assembling a soufflé. "Yo, little Ames! Look at you, makin' magic happen in the kitchen. Gotta say, foam-based foods? Total top-tier stuff. Bet you do all this for silly ol' me. I’m flattered!"

Finn glanced up, and just admitted. "I know. Mash-kun told me you like food like this." He motioned to the table where the rest of the dishes were laid out: pancakes with blueberries, creampuffs, hamburgers, pudding, and a bowl of fresh apples.

Delisaster blinked. "Uh… these aren’t exactly your classic beach foods. I mean, apples? Really? What is this, a picnic?"

Finn’s deadpan stare didn’t falter. "Mash-kun asked for them. You don’t even know your brothers’ favorite foods, do you?"

From across the kitchen, Rayne also deadpanned. "It’s him. What did you expect?"

Delisaster turned his head back and forth between them, a look of faux horror crossing his face.

"You guys look way too alike when you’re disappointed in me. It’s freakin' me out."

Despite the bickering, the three of them worked together to finish the food. The table ended up piled high with sweets and beach-appropriate dishes like barbecue and fruit salads. The trio stood back to admire their handiwork.

Oh by the way, Delisaster was mostly in charge of plating and moral support. The Ames brothers had forbade him from trying to bake anything. Ever. Again.

Everyone gathered around the spread. Domina and Kiwi immediately made a beeline for the candy apples.

Kiwi’s small hands cradled one while Domina devoured another fruit. Lemon hovered nearby, laughing as she shoved a strawberry into Domina’s mouth.

"You’re welcome," she chimed as Domina glared.

On the other side, Famin tore through the hamburgers like a man possessed, while Doom sat beside him, calmly slicing into a stack of pancakes. Mash joined his big brother, eating with his usual gusto, a rare and peaceful smile on Doom’s face as he enjoyed the meal.

Dot, not to be outdone by Famin, scarfed down burgers at an equally alarming speed.

Citrus stood nearby with a stopwatch, "Three minutes in, and Dot-san’s only two bites behind!”

Epidem, meanwhile, sat quietly with a bowl of pudding, unfazed by the chaos. He looked up briefly, as if considering joining the conversation, then returned to his dessert with a shrug.

At the far end of the table, Anna gently fed Lance a creampuff. Lance, in turn, glanced toward the kitchen trio. Watching Finn and Rayne’s banter with Delisaster, he couldn’t help but notice how much closer they seemed—even Delisaster felt oddly part of the mix.

Lance could never imagine befriending these… freaks.

"They’re getting along," Anna said with a cheery smile.

"Surprisingly," Lance muttered, crossing his arms.

Back at the table, Delisaster raised his glass dramatically. "A toast, bros! To sibling unity! Or, y'know, whatever the heck this crazy fam's all about!"

Rayne groaned. "Just eat."

"Already on it," The blonde quipped, grabbing a creampuff. He grinned as Finn simply shook his head.

“You should eat too, Finn,” Rayne said, pulling out a bento box. Inside were ponzu-braised pork cuts, a side of beansprouts, and a generous serving of rice. The simple, delicious meal looked like it had been made with care, and Finn’s stomach rumbled at the sight.

“Nii-san, you… remembered my favorites?”

The older one simply smiled, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER EIGHT ||
| Doom and the Barretts |

DOT stretched his arms high above his head, “Man, I need something to do before I go nuts!” he announced, pacing along the shoreline like a restless animal.

The sand was warm under his feet, and the salty breeze carried the sounds of his friends enjoying themselves. All the while he had absolutely nothing to do!

Malta gave him a lazy glance over her sunglasses. “Wanna play volleyball, Dot?”

The red-headed student scrunched his nose at the idea. “What’s the point if it’s just the two of us? I’ll crush you too fast, nee-san!”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll win against me.”

Ignoring her, Dot turned to scan the beach. “Nah, we need more people. I’ll go round up the others!”

“Good luck with that.” Malta leaned back, letting out a yawn.

Dot’s first stop was Rayne, Finn and Delisaster. Or rather, Rayne was visibly restraining himself from smacking Delisaster, who was holding a frying pan upside down with Finn trying to calm both of them down.

"Yo, let the grill master do his thing! Quit killin’ the vibe, my dude!" The blonde one spat.

“I don’t trust you with anything,” Rayne snapped.

Finn sighed, “L-Let’s not…”

Midway through the entire argument, Dot did not think about their little quarrel. Idiotically, he just suddenly spoke. “So, uh… volleyball?”

Rayne didn’t even look up. “Busy.”

Delisaster perked up. “Volleyball sounds fun—”

“No.”

Dot immediately ran away. “Okay… Not these guys.”

Next, he spotted Lance and Anna working on a sandcastle nearby. “Hey, wanna join me in some volleyball? Let’s find out who’s the strongest between us!”

“I’m busy. Ask someone else.” Lance didn’t look up, meticulously shaping the walls of their castle.

Anna glanced at him. “Sorry, Dot-san! Nii-chan and I are making our Crown Kingdom! Do you want to become the knight of my castle?”

The redhead’s eyes then befall on the two siblings’ hard work. It was a big castle, and there were even little sand figures in the shape of their friends in it.

Inside the castle walls, a sandy corner near the kitchen held three tiny figures—castle chefs, as Anna described them—presumably tasked with preparing royal feasts.

"This is where the royal guests gather!" Anna said, placing little sand figures for Kiwi, Lemon, Domina, and Citrus in one room. The four seemed to be playing dress-up or some sort.

A separate part of the castle depicted two strong knights sneaking into the kitchen—“to steal pancakes and creampuffs,” Anna whispered conspiratorially. On the opposite side, the jester who looked like Famin sat behind bars in a sand-made dungeon.

“Who’s that next to Famin?” Dot asked, poking at the no-face figure near the jester.

The young girl noticed the strange, waterlogged lump at the edge of the jail. “That’s just a blob of water. It’s nothing!”

Dot got shoved away from the two as Lance casually graviole’d him sideways. His travel stopped when his entire body tripped onto Epidem, crouching over pudding-shaped sand.

“Are those pudding towers?”

Epidem eerily grinned. “Of course. It’s an architectural marvel.”

“Right…” Dot backed away, “We’re going to ignore this guy exists.”

As Dot wandered along the beach, his eyes caught a curious sight: Domina crouched low behind a large driftwood log, flanked by Kiwi and Citrus. The trio huddled together in silence. It didn’t take much to figure out what they were doing.

“Hide and seek, huh?” Dot muttered to himself, grinning. He noticed Lemon wandering nearby.

Without thinking, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Yo, Domina! Volleyball?”

Domina’s eyes widened in horror as he turned to glare at Dot, a silent but potent message flashing across his face: Shut the fuck up.

Before he could do so, Lemon popped up from behind a dune. “Found you three!”

Kiwi moped quietly, and Citrus let out a dramatic sigh, his cheeks puffing in annoyance. Domina pinched the bridge of his nose and shot Dot a deathly stare.

The three had nothing but pure contempt against him.

Dot dropped a sweat. He’d just managed to tick off both of the Irvine siblings and Domina in one go. From the looks of it, winning their approval for his delusional wedding with Lemon was going to be a bit tough.

“Um, sorry?” He tried to change the topic, “Volleyball?”

“No.” Domina plainly said.

Dot awkwardly laughed it off, casually strolling away to find someone else to bother.

Finally, his gaze landed on Doom and Famin, sitting ominously by the water’s edge. Doom’s massive frame was hunched over, his blindfold in place, while Famin tossed a rock in his hand, bored.

“Worst. Options. Ever.”

< • >

Dot kicked at the sand, frustrated after his failed attempts to gather a team. Everyone was either busy, uninterested, or actively avoiding him.

“This sucks! What’s a guy gotta do to have some fun around here?”

Malta raised an eyebrow, “Stop whining and do something about it.”

Dot spun around and spoke sarcastically. “Oh, I’m doing something about it. I’ve found the perfect opponents—Doom and Famin!”

“Alright, sounds fun.” She stood up, dusting sand off her shorts, and started walking toward the two.

“Wait, you’re not scared?”

“Scared?” Malta smirked. “Of those two? Please.”

As they approached, Doom was seated cross-legged on the sand, gazing toward the horizon. Famin, however, was lying flat on his back, his hands behind his head, staring blankly at the sky.

“Hey, you two!” Malta called, waving them over. “Let’s play volleyball.”

Doom turned his head slightly, his blindfold catching the sunlight. “Sure.”

Meanwhile, Famin sat up. He didn’t laugh or sneer, nor did he make any chaotic remarks. He simply shrugged and said, “Sure. Whatever.”

Dot gulped, “Him being disturbingly normal is scary.”

The teams were decided: Dot and Malta versus Doom and Famin. A makeshift net was set up using some sticks and rope someone had left behind, and the game was on.

From the start, Doom’s raw strength was apparent. His first serve sent the ball flying like a cannonball, soaring over the net and hitting the sand with enough force to leave a crater.

Dot’s jaw dropped. “What the—! Are we playing volleyball or dodging meteors?”

“Relax. I’ve got this.” Malta then crouched slightly, ready to receive the next serve.

When Doom served again, she moved quickly, her arms meeting the ball in a perfect bump. It flew high into the air, giving Dot a chance to spike it.

Dot leapt into the air, shouting, “Watch this! I’m unstoppable!”

The ball sailed toward Doom, who barely moved as he raised a hand and smacked it back with his pinky finger over the net with enough force to knock Dot flat onto his back.

“Unstoppable, huh?” Malta teased, offering her brother a hand to help him up.

“This guy’s Mash’s level!” He complained.

The game continued, and it quickly became clear that Doom wasn’t holding back. Even at what he claimed was “80%,” his hits were so powerful that Dot could barely keep up. Meanwhile, Malta surprised everyone by holding her own. She dove, jumped, and blocked every hit that left her little brother just watching with his mouth wide open.

“You’re amazing, nee-san!” Dot shouted as he almost didn’t deflect Famin’s serves.

“Pay attention, Dot!” Malta yelled back.

On the other side, Famin occasionally hit the ball, his movements lethargic but oddly effective. At one point, Dot tried to taunt him (as much as his ego could).

“Hey, Famin! You’re kinda quiet. You good, dude?”

Famin gave him a deadpan stare. But he did seem to be eyeing the redhead with a death glare.

Dot felt ignored though. He then jumped to block a spike from Doom, only for his entire body knocked back into the sand again.

“Dot, you’re terrible at this,” Malta laughed.

After a few more, the game was surprisingly close. Malta’s skill balanced out Doom’s strength, and the two teams traded points back and forth. By the final round, the score was tied.

Doom served, and Malta received with a perfect bump. Dot jumped, determined to redeem himself with a game-winning spike.

“This is it!” he shouted.

He hit the ball with all his might, but Doom was already there. With a single, effortless motion, the man spiked it back. Malta dived, her fingers barely grazing the ball, sending it careening upward—but not where she intended. Instead of soaring toward the net, it ricocheted backward, flying straight into Dot’s unsuspecting face.

THWACK!

The sound reverberated through the beach as Dot’s head snapped back, and he crumpled to the sand, completely unconscious.

“Dot!” Malta scrambled over to him.

“Is he alive?” Famin asked, though he wasn’t exactly concerned.

Mash, who had been watching from a distance, wandered over. He bent down, picked his friend up like a sack of potatoes, and gently set him aside under a palm tree.

“Don’t worry,” He said, brushing sand off his hands. “He’s just sleeping now.”

Malta blinked. “How can you tell?”

“I’ve been knocked out by worse.” He turned his gaze to his older brother. “Want to play another round?”

Doom’s ears perked. “You want to play volleyball against me?”

“Yeah,” Mash said simply, then looked at Malta. “Can we team up?”

“I’m up for another round.”

The game resumed, but this time, Doom didn’t hold back.

“We’ll need something sturdier than this,” Malta said, holding up the tattered remains of the volleyball that Dot’s face received.

“Use this,” Mash suggested, reaching into his bag and pulling out... a bowling ball.

She stared. “You’re joking, right?”

“No. It’s the perfect weight. Doom won’t break it.”

Doom tested the ball in his hand and nodded. “This will work.”

Famin let out a tired groan. “Now this is going to be fun.”

From the first serve, it was clear the match was on a whole new level. Doom’s serve sent the bowling ball rocketing toward Malta like a missile. She received it with a grunt, managing to keep it airborne with sheer willpower.

“Nice, Dot’s big sister,” Mash called as Malta set the ball perfectly.

Famin leapt to intercept, smacking it over the net.

Malta dove to save it, her hands barely brushing the ball as she passed it to Mash. “All you!”

The mushroom head jumped high, his figure silhouetted against the sun, his hands poised to strike. With a single, decisive motion, he spiked the ball.

CRACK!

The bowling ball exploded into fragments mid-air, pieces scattering like confetti across the beach. Everyone froze, staring at the remnants.

“Uh...” Malta stopped midway.

“Sorry.” Mash apologized. “Guess I used too much strength.”

“Now what do we use?” Famin groaned.

“Coconuts?” Mash offered, pointing to a nearby tree.

Doom nodded. “Coconuts are durable.”

The game continued with coconuts as substitutes with Mash taking a more defensive role after his earlier mishap. Instead of spiking, he focused on setting and receiving.

“Nice one, Mash!” Malta cheered as he perfectly set the ball for her to spike. She slammed it over the net, scoring a point against Doom and Famin.

The game continued well into the afternoon, and by the time the match ended, it was hard to tell who had won.

As they wrapped up, the makeshift volleyball court had been turned into a battlefield, the sand marred with craters from Doom and Mash’s spikes, as well as Famin and Malta’s dives.

Doom stood tall, his shirt damp with sweat as he stared across the net at the two red-haired siblings.

Strength isn’t just power.

The thought crossed Doom’s mind. Malta had thrown herself into every hit, never hesitating, even against him. She didn’t have his raw might, but her sheer refusal to back down had made her a worthy opponent.

It’s more than muscle; it’s in how hard you’re willing to fight, even when you know you might lose.

And there was Dot, sprawled in the sand nearby, still unconscious. Dot had been reckless, overzealous, and loud—but he’d kept going. Doom wasn’t sure if it was stubbornness or stupidity, but he had a different kind of strength.

“You’re strong,” Doom spoke to her.

Malta, still catching her breath, waved her hand. “Nah, I just gave it my all. You’re the real beast here.”

“No. You made me push myself to my limits. Even without my Master Cane, I used my full strength.”

“Eh, really?” She laughed, “Coming from you? That means a lot. I’m just glad I didn’t get completely wiped out.”

Doom’s blind gaze returned to Dot, “Even your brother surprised me. He didn’t give up, even when it was clear he couldn’t win. That’s strength too.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, big guy. I’ve never seen anyone hit a ball—or, uh, a bowling ball—like that before.” Malta extended her fist toward him.

Doom blinked. His large, calloused hand hovered in the air. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the gesture—he’d heard of it before, of course—but Fistbumps? High fives? All of that felt... foreign to him.

She noticed this. "Don’t worry, it’s easy." She gently guided her fist closer to his, then tapped her knuckles against his.

Doom may not be able to see Malta, but he could still feel her presence lingering in front of him. After a brief pause, he extended his fist too, allowing it to meet hers.

The solid connection of their fists sent a strange but satisfying jolt through his hand.

Malta grinned. “There you go. Now you’re getting it.”

Doom’s lips quirked upward. “You’re... odd.”

“I’m gonna take that as a complement, big guy!”

“Let’s do this again,” he said simply.

“Anytime. But next time, don’t hold back,” she smirked.

“Against you, I may never have to.”

< • >

Dot woke up with a groan, his head pounding as he blinked at the dark sky above. The only thing that remained of the volleyball court was the faint imprint of his body in the sand.

As he slowly sat up, he realized the obvious: he'd been unconscious the entire time.

"Great," Dot muttered to himself, squinting against the dimming light of the night. “No one even bothered to move me from the sun.” He looked around, noticing the tan he just received.

He was met with the sound of Citrus snickering. “Look who’s awake, guys. You’re definitely well-done, Dot-san.”

Lance grinned, “You look like a lobster that got too much sun.”

Delisaster laughed, “You really cooked yourself, huh?”

Dot shot them a glare. “You guys are so funny.So damn glad to know you were busy laughing while I was unconscious. Thanks for the help.”

“Eh, you were out for a while,” Malta said, “The sun did a number on you. You probably could’ve been roasted on a spit.”

Dot frowned. “Nobody thought of moving my body somewhere else?! Some friends you are!”

“Well,” Mash spoke, “You’re pretty tough, Dot-kun. We figured you could handle it.”

“You’re all terrible,” Dot muttered. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s worse—being left in the sun by my friends, or being mocked by my own family.”

“Well, you did get hit in the face by a ball. That was pretty funny!” Citrus chimed in again.

“I don’t need you to remind me that!” Dot snapped, now standing up. He brushed the sand off his clothes, "Whatever. You know what? Since I’ve been completely ignored all day, I’m proposing a Test of Courage tonight!"

Everyone turned to him, surprised.

“What’s that?”

“A Test of Courage,” Dot repeated, “We’ll go to that creepy forest at the edge of the beach and see who’s brave enough to go in! If I’m so ‘weak’—which I’m not—let’s see if any of you are afraid of the dark!”

“You want us to go into the forest? At night?”

“Exactly!” Dot said, grinning like he’d just come up with the greatest idea of all time. “It’s perfect.”

Kiwi perked up, “Is there a prize…?”

“Who’s ever heard of a Test of Courage with prizes?” Dot muttered, sulking a bit. “It’s about honor!”

Citrus snickered. “Yeah, and Dot-san’s honor is going to be the one to get us lost in the forest.”

“Well, someone’s gotta lead the way,” The redhead said, puffing out his chest. “Might as well be me since no one else is brave enough.”

“Brave? You?” Citrus mocked him.

Dot glared at him, clearly offended.

The young Irvine crossed his arms. “You think you’ve got what it takes? You barely even have the confidence to look the forest in the eye.”

Dot’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you wanna test me, huh? You think you’re more confident than me?”

“You bet I am,” Citrus shot back.

“You’re on, you damn brat!”

“Bring it on!”

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER NINE ||
| Siblings and the Test of Courage |

THE bonfire crackled as a certain redhead stood at the center, holding a small basket filled with colored toothpicks. His grin was wide as he explained the rules.

“Alright, everyone! Pick a toothpick, and the color will determine your partner for tonight’s test of courage! No complaints, no swaps, no exceptions!”

“Partners, huh? We’re an odd number,” Malta suddenly spoke, “Guess I’ll take this one out.”

“Huh? Nee-san?!”

Before the younger Barrett could even grab his sister’s hand, Malta had already run towards the huts to take a well-deserved rest. Maybe she’s tired from all that volleyball?

“Wait, Dot-kun.” Finn raised his hand, “If we’re all in the game, who’d be the one trying to scare us?”

“Who else? It’ll be… Mother Nature herself!”

“That’s lame,” Delisaster muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Shut it,” Dot shot back. “Just pick a toothpick and let’s get started.”

One by one, the siblings drew their lots, each dreading the possibility of being paired with the wrong person. For Finn, the thought of being partnered with one of Mash’s brothers—Delisaster still included—felt like a worst-case scenario.

Finn hesitated before pulling a toothpick with a green tip, his face paling when he saw Domina holding the matching color. He gulped audibly.

“Looks like you’re with me,” Domina’s calm yet commanding voice rang out.

Finn turned slowly, his heart pounding. There stood Domina, arms crossed, with an expression that could freeze oceans. One of the scariest people at Walkis Academy.

He squeaked—a sound that might’ve resembled a dying rodent—and his mind spiraled.

“Oh no, no, no. Of all people! Why couldn’t it be someone less terrifying? Like... Deli-san, or something.” His eyes darted toward anyone else, but they were too busy finding their partners.

Domina, meanwhile, studied Finn with quiet curiosity. He’d heard about this timid boy from Mash himself—Finn was his roommate, his first real friend, and someone Mash openly called his best friend.

It was puzzling, really. How could someone as strong and invincible as Mash consider someone so visibly weak and trembling to be his equal?

It’s… interesting.

“Hurry up, let’s get this over with,” Domina said bluntly, turning to head toward the trail. He wasn’t trying to be rude; that’s just how he was.

The younger Ames scurried after him, “What do I do? Do I try to make conversation? What if he hates small talk? What if he eats people like me for breakfast?”

The two walked in silence for a moment, the oppressive atmosphere making Finn fidget.

Finally, he mustered the courage to speak. “S-So… uh… nice weather we’re having?”

Domina raised an eyebrow in confusion, “It’s nighttime.”

“Oh… r-right.” Finn’s face flushed as he stared at his feet. “Great job, Finn. Way to impress one of the scariest guys here.”

Domina, however, wasn’t bothered. His mind lingered on what Mash had said about Finn. Was it possible that this timid, jittery boy had something hidden beneath the surface? Something that Mash, in his infinite straightforwardness, valued deeply?

He supposed he’d find out soon enough. For now, though, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of bond these two shared.

Maybe he could get clues from him to get closer to his brother?

Meanwhile, another pair was bickering it out.

Famin tilted his head, his unnervingly wide grin stretching ear to ear, “Oh, look who fate paired me with—the life of the frat house himself. Tell me, Delisaster, do you scream as loud as you party?”

Delisaster let out a loud, exaggerated laugh, “Screamin’? Bro, I live for thrillers. But I don’t got time for clown-school rejects like you. Why don’tcha juggle somethin’ useful, like gettin’ a personality upgrade?”

“And you’re all noise. Just a hollow scream.”

The blonde scoffed and waved him off. “Bruh, you think I care what you say? You’re like... if a haunted doll and a psychology textbook had a weird baby. Chill with the creepy vibes, dude.”

“And you look like you chug beer out of a dirty shoe. Fitting, though—you’re just as full of shit.”

Delisaster gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “Oh no, he got me! What’ll I do now? Bro, I thrive on this energy. Bring it on! You can try all night, but I ain’t the one walking around lookin’ like a clown possessed by a demon. How’s that for a vibe check?”

Famin stepped closer, “The only ‘vibe’ here is how quickly you’ll regret being partnered with me.”

“Regret? Nah, you don’t scare me. Do you think you’ve got a ‘creepy’ act? Bro, I’ve seen worse at 3 AM after a crazy night. But hey, keep trying. It’s cute.” He gave a cocky grin.

“Cute. Just like your desperate need to stay relevant.”

The blonde one barked out a laugh, clapping his hands dramatically. “Oh-ho! Look at that, folks! The creepy bastard can roast! Too bad your delivery’s as dead as your personality. Bro, do you even have friends? Like, real ones?”

“I killed them all.”

He blinked, “O-kay, psycho. I see you’re committed to the whole ‘murdery vibes’ thing. Cool, cool. You do you. But let’s get one thing straight—I’m not scared of your creepy clown shit.”

Deep down, though, Delisaster couldn’t shake the feeling creeping up his spine.

“Why does he keep grinnin’ like that? Like he knows somethin’ I don’t. Damn it, it’s more fun to be with those brothers. Chill, Deli, it’s just Famin. He’s just a lil’ stronger than ‘ya. What’s the worst he could do? …Wait, don’t answer that.”

Compared to the loud exchange between the two, it was the complete opposite for two older brothers.

Rayne glanced at Doom, his expression impassive. Doom, towering over everyone, simply gave a small nod.

“Shall we get this over with?” Rayne said coolly.

“Agreed,” Doom replied in his deep, quiet voice.

Rayne’s gaze flickered toward him. “Doom only used half his power in our last fight, and he still wiped the floor with us. How am I supposed to relax around him?”

Rayne may be the image of cold and nonchalant, but no doubt, being around someone like Doom could send shivers down his spine. The image of him and Finn being crushed by that man’s strength was a memory that would never leave him.

Doom, meanwhile, was lost in thought. “Rayne’s bond with his brother… it’s… peculiar. Strong. I wonder what that’s like. But asking would be intrusive. Best to keep quiet.”

The silence stretched on, awkward for Rayne but comfortable for Doom.

“Hey,” The latter said eventually, “If you’re trying to be intimidating, it’s working.”

“I’m not.”

Rayne sighed, resigning himself to the most uncomfortable walk of his life.

As for a certain “couple,” the delusional “wife” was celebrating.

“Mash-kun, this is fate!” Lemon declared, clutching his arm when both of them pulled a pink-colored stick. “Us being paired together means the universe wants us to be together forever! Don’t you see?”

“Oh, okay,” Mash replied, munching on a cream puff he had pulled from his pocket.

“So you agree? You’re finally ready to admit we’re soulmates?”

The mushroom head paused, considering her words. “Do soulmates share cream puffs?”

The blonde girl blinked, “Well… I suppose so?”

“Then here.” He handed her half of his cream puff, completely oblivious to the implication.

Lemon’s heart practically exploded. “Mash-kun, you’re proposing! Oh, I knew this day would come!”

“What?”

Of course, it wasn’t just one Irvine who was having so much fun.

“This is going to be so much fun!” Anna giggled, linking arms with Kiwi, “I’m so glad we got paired together.”

“Me too,” Kiwi said, “We can look out for each other, Anna-chan!”

As they laughed and chatted, their voices echoed through the trees. Behind them, Citrus trailed at a distance, his arms crossed and his cheeks flushed.

He muttered under his breath. “It’s not like I care who she’s partnered with or anything…”

Citrus watched as Anna’s laughter rang out, feeling a twinge of… something. Annoyance? Maybe. Definitely not jealousy. That would be ridiculous.

Lance stared at his sister’s smile softly before looking back at the toothpick in his hand. Epidem, standing beside him with an identical toothpick, adjusted his glasses and smiled politely.

“It appears we are partners,” He said, “I look forward to working together.”

Lance’s hand clenched into a fist. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Now, now, no need for hostility,” Epidem replied. “This is merely a game, after all. I’m sure we can put aside our differences for one evening.”

“You cursed my sister,” The older Crown snapped, his voice low and dangerous. “You called her a guinea pig. You think I’m going to forget that?”

“Ah, yes, the infamous grudge. Quite unbecoming, don’t you think? Holding onto such anger can be rather detrimental to one’s health. Have some pudding.”

Lance’s magic began to crackle faintly around him, but before things could escalate, Dot intervened.

“Alright, alright. I know swapping isn’t exactly allowed, but I’ll let it slide just this once.” Dot rested his chin on his hand and grinned. “How about I swap with Epidem?”

He didn’t get far before his own words caught up to him, and he froze.

“Wait—no. That’s a terrible idea. If I pair with Lance, Epidem’s stuck with Citrus.” Dot grimaced, as if the mere thought left a bad taste in his mouth.

“A kid. Hell no. I’m not trusting that psycho anywhere near a kid. Not after everything.”

The mood around the group shifted, a few of them exchanging uneasy glances.

“Alright, screw it. Change of plans.” He straightened up, “I’ll swap with Lance. That way, he can take Citrus here, and I’ll be stuck with Epidem. Even if I really don’t want to be.”

There was a pause as Dot let his words settle into the air. The tension stretched just long enough for everyone to notice.

Lance, who had been silent up to that point, scoffed loudly, “You’re an idiot, you know that? You don’t have to go this far.” His arms crossed, “I’ll just get it over with myself. No need for your big sacrifice.”

“Says the guy who’s always rushing in like some martyr! Every time there’s a problem, it’s ‘I’ll handle it, I’ll take care of it.’” He threw his hands up in frustration, his voice rising just a little. “I’m just doing my part, dude. You don’t have to act like I’m trying to be a hero.”

“You’re an idiot for thinking you need to save me. I’m fine handling it.”

Lance's voice was sharp, almost cutting, as if the words were meant to push Dot away, but his tone carried more than just irritation—it was tinged with something else.

Dot crossed his arms. “You don’t have to care if I handle it, but I’m trying to keep you away from—” He stopped mid-sentence, “You know what? Forget it. Do whatever you want.”

The silence that followed wasn’t comfortable though. It was awkward.

Lance’s thoughts took a different direction, turning inward, and he found himself silently cursing the situation.

“Why am I even saying this?” he thought, “Letting Dot take care of Epidem might actually be safer, but...” His thoughts drifted back to a time—a memory of him stepping in when Dot had needed him most. “Dot’s an idiot. A reckless, stubborn idiot. But he’s my...”

“It’s fine, Dot. Really.” Lance muttered. “I’ll look after Epidem. So nothing... happens.” His tone was firmer now.

Dot blinked at him, clearly caught off guard. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond.

“...Whatever. If you want to do it, fine. Not that it has anything to do with me anyway!" He paused, "Just... don’t screw it up.”

His voice was stiff, but his shoulders were tight—anyone who was paying attention could see how quickly Dot was trying to brush it off.

Lance didn’t respond right away. He let the silence linger, as though to pretend he didn’t hear Dot.

“I said, don’t screw it up!"

Despite the bickering, the frustration, the back-and-forth, there was something they shared. Something that made Lance more certain than ever: Dot was an idiot, but he wasn’t about to let anyone important to him face Epidem.

Not now. Not again.

“I won’t.”

< • >

Domina and Finn walked stiffly inside the forest, a palpable wall of awkward silence stretching between them. And nope! It’s not the fright of the dark that scares them at all.

The young Ames glanced nervously at Domina, who walked with absolute nonchalance. Finn fidgeted, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“He’s so strong… and terrifying. What if I say something stupid?”

Meanwhile, Domina was equally frazzled, though he would have rather thrown himself into the ocean than admit it.

His expression was calm, even aloof, but his mind raced. “Why is this so hard? It’s just a simple question. Come on, just ask it.”

The silence dragged on painfully, each second feeling like an eternity.

Finn cleared his throat but stopped himself from speaking. Domina shifted his weight, opened his mouth slightly, then closed it again.

Finally, they both spoke at the same time.

“So—”

“Uh—”

They stopped, blinking at each other. Finn felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple.

“You first,” he blurted.

“No,” Domina said, a little too quickly. “You go first.”

“I-I wasn’t going to say anything important! You go ahead!”

Domina’s brow furrowed as he looked away. “It’s… not important either.”

Another agonizing silence descended. Finn felt like screaming. “Say something! Anything!”

Domina clenched his fists, his usual demeanor buried under an avalanche of second-guessing. “What conditioner do you use?”

“Wha… Huh?”

“Your hair,” he said, staring somewhere over Finn’s shoulder. “It’s… soft-looking. Kiwi-chan said my hair is nice, and I want to keep it that way. So… I need to know what conditioner you use.”

Finn short-circuited. “Oh, uh… I—Lavender? I mean, the conditioner is lavender-scented. Nii-san bought it for me. He’s very particular about my hair care. Though, weirdly, his hair is a mess.”

Domina nodded stiffly. “Lavender. Hm. Okay.”

The awkwardness had barely started to lift when Finn, trying desperately to keep the conversation going, fumbled for something meaningful to say.

“So, uh…” He cleared his throat and tried again, forcing himself to meet Domina’s gaze for a brief second. “I’m glad you decided to come here… with Mash-kun, I mean.”

“I wasn’t dragged here by him, if that’s what you’re implying.” Domina politely said.

Finn shook his head quickly, his hands waving in defense. “No, no, I know! That’s not what I meant! I mean… it’s kind of obvious, right? You’re not like your brothers. They’re, um…” He hesitated, unsure of how to phrase it delicately. “You know, they came because they had to. But you came because you wanted to.”

The latter tilted his head, “And what do you make of that?”

Finn hesitated, suddenly realizing he might’ve overstepped. But the words spilled out before he could stop them. “I think… I think it’s because you care about Mash-kun. You’re here because you… wanted to be. And I think that’s really cool…”

Domina stared at him, his silence felt less like indifference and more like he was listening intently. Finn swallowed hard, his nerves kicking up again.

“I just wanted to say… thanks,” He added, “For coming here for him. Mash-kun is my best friend, and it means a lot that you’re here for him. Even if you don’t show it like we do, I can tell you care.”

Domina’s eyes softened, his usual guarded demeanor faltering. He’d never thought much about Mash’s friendships, but Finn’s earnestness caught him off guard. Suddenly, it made sense.

Mash didn’t befriend Finn just because he was there—he chose Finn because of his unwavering loyalty, his kind heart, and his courage, even in the face of someone stronger. Even if he was undoubtedly weak.

“Thank you too, then,” Domina looked at him, “For being my brother’s friend.”

The tension didn’t immediately dissolve, but the sheer absurdity of the exchange lingered in the air.

“You’re really… weird,” Finn said, still laughing awkwardly.

“You’re not wrong," Domina replidd.

By the end of their conversation, they weren’t exactly comfortable, but they weren’t entirely awkward anymore either—a strange step forward for both of them.

< • >

Famin and Delisaster were up next, the second pair to brave the test of courage. The forest around them was dark and eerie, with only the faint glow of their lantern lighting the path. Delisaster, however, didn’t seem to notice—or care—about the spooky atmosphere.

“This is so stupid,” He dragged his feet off the floor, “Why couldn’t I be paired with someone fun? Like, I don’t know, anyone else?”

Famin simply rolled his eyes. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his gaze was fixed ahead, completely unfazed by Delisaster’s ranting.

“Seriously, you’re like a ghost again, bro,” Delisaster continued, waving his arms around as if to emphasize his point. “No vibes, no trash talk, no swearing—which, by the way, is super off-brand for you. Dude, you usually swear more than you inhale oxygen. What gives?”

Still, Famin didn’t respond. He just kept walking.

Delisaster narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then stopped in his tracks. “Wait a second. Did the author of this fic just write you out-of-character or something?”

That finally got a reaction.

Famin stopped, slowly turning his head toward him with an almost murderous glint in his eyes. “Shut up, you fucking idiot.”

"Ah, there it is! Thought you’d gone full soft serve on me, dude!"

“If you don't shut your mouth, I’ll bury you here."

But the pause didn’t last long. Delisaster broke into a laugh, slapping the clown on the back. "See? This is why we’re an unstoppable duo, man. You’re the crazy one, and I’m the party animal! It’s the ultimate combo!"

Famin muttered another curse under his breath and kept walking, leaving Delisaster to trail behind him, still chuckling to himself. As they continued down the dark path, the clown suddenly stopped in his tracks. His sharp eyes narrowed as he scanned the dense forest around them.

Delisaster groaned, “What now? Did you forget how to walk?”

“Shut up,” Famin snapped. “There’s… someone here.”

The blonde rolled his eyes, barely hiding his boredom. “Oh no, spooky woods during a test of courage? Shocking, bro. Let me guess, it’s a ghost. Or maybe a squirrel. Ooooh, spooky squirrel, watch out!”

Famin ignored his brother, his eyes darting between the trees, a glimmer of something wild in his gaze.

The feeling wasn’t just present—it was a suffocating, delicious pressure, like being watched by a thousand unseen eyes. It was a familiar gaze too, almost comforting, in a twisted way.

“Ooooh, someone’s out there. I can feel it. Are they planning to slit my throat in my sleep? Or maybe they’re gonna stab me right here?” Famin’s lips twitched into a sick grin. “Maybe they’ll make it slow. I’d like that—painful, drawn out. Or wait, what if they’re just here to watch?”

His pulse quickened at the thought. “How long can I last before I scream? Maybe I’ll do better than that.”

“Yuck. You’re talking out loud, you know?” The latter shuddered. “Your thoughts are creepy—like, seriously messed up. You’re sitting there fantasizing about someone killing you? That’s just… gross, man. Who does that?”

“You’re an idiot,” Famin hissed. “If you had half a brain, you’d realize how delicious my victims feel whenever I kill them!"

“Half a brain is all I need to know you’re just being… you,” Delisaster shot back, "Also, quick thing—if there is something out there, it can probably smell fear. And guess what? I’m frickin’ fearless, bro."

“You’re not fearless. You’re brainless.”

“Same difference!”

He glared at Delisaster, who was now doing an exaggerated ghost impression, complete with wiggling fingers. “If we get ambushed, I’m feeding you to whatever it is.”

“Aw, come on, clown boy,” Delisaster said with a wink. “Who wouldn’t want a bite of this?” He gestured to himself.

Famin groaned, “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you.”

Delisaster grinned, following him with a skip in his step. “Admit it—you’d be bored without me.”

Somewhere, hidden among the shadows, the unseen presence lingered silently.

< • >

Third to arrive were Rayne and Doom, walking side by side through the dark, eerie forest. Neither of them seemed fazed by the creeping shadows or the strange sounds of the night; they moved like two soldiers on a mission.

Suddenly, Doom broke the silence, “Pancakes.”

“Huh?”

“Rayne Ames, may I request you to teach me how to cook pancakes.”

Rayne blinked, his pace barely faltering. “He… wants me to teach him how to cook pancakes?”

The thought hit him like a brick. This was the same guy who had absolutely wiped the floor with him and every Divine Visionary in a battle, and now he was asking him about pancakes?

“What…?”

Doom glanced over at him. “I heard that you taught Delisaster how to cook. Thought maybe you could teach me how to make a simple pancake... with a nice blueberry topping.”

Rayne’s deadpan response was immediate. “Does being unable to cook run in the family or something?”

Doom didn’t flinch, simply shrugging.

The Sword Cane raised an eyebrow, now even more baffled. “This guy—the man who went toe to toe with Mash, who’s taken down everyone besides him—can’t cook?” The absurdity of it all hit him again. “I mean, excluding Mash, who only bakes creampuffs, yeah. It must run in the family.”

Doom asked again, “Will you?”

Rayne sighed, running a hand through his hair as he continued walking. “Fine, fine. I’ll teach you how to make pancakes. But only if you don’t burn them like your stupid brother did.”

“Deal." Doom looked happy, "Oh, and just so you know—I can’t cook because the pans are too small for my fingers.”

Rayne shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Doom, the guy who could flatten entire armies with his bare hands, couldn’t cook a pancake because of the same bare hands.

“You’re a walking contradiction, Doom.”

< • >

Mash and Lemon were walking along the dark path, the eerie sounds of the forest surrounding them.

Lemon kept sneezing intermittently, muttering, “Someone’s talking about me… I know it!” She let out a small squeal and jumped onto Mash’s shoulder, clutching him tightly.

Mash, not even flinching at the sudden weight on his shoulder, simply gave her a glance. “You good?”

“I don’t know, Mash-kun! I feel like I’m being watched,” Lemon squealed again, burying her face in Mash’s neck like she was simply being overdramatic. “What if it’s a ghost or a monster? Are we gonna die out here? Will you take my last kiss before I die?!”

“It’s just the woods, Lemon-chan.”

“But what if it’s not?! What if we get eaten by some giant bear?!” She squealed again, making a dramatic show of almost falling off Mash’s shoulder.

Mash was about to say something, but instead he checked his watch, seeing that the block had hit a certain time. He glanced at Lemon, who was still clinging to him like a koala.

“It’s about time I drink my protein.”

Lemon gasped, “Protein? Wait, you’re actually going to drink your protein now?"

Mash gave her a look, “We need to look for water first. Maybe a lake."

And from there, the two continued walking for a while longer, hoping to find a source of water.

Lemon continued her damsel-in-distress act the entire way. “Oh no, I’m lost! Help! Someone save me!” she cried, hopping over small rocks and pretending to stumble. “Mash-kun, what if we never find a way out?”

“You’re fine.” But even as he said that, he noticed that they hadn’t quite found their way to the lake.

Finally, they stumbled upon it—a serene, dark lake nestled in the woods. Mash stopped for a moment, pulling out his protein powder and mixing it with water. He shook the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and then chugged it down in one go.

Lemon watched him, wide-eyed, as he wiped his mouth after finishing it off.

“Good stuff.”

But just as Mash finished, he glanced around, realizing they were now... lost.

“Well, this is a problem,” he said, turning to Lemon, who was now nervously glancing around.

“I knew it! I knew we were gonna be lost forever!”

Without a word, Mash squatted down, motioning for Lemon to jump onto his back. “Hold on tight.”

The blonde girl immediately scrambled onto his back. Mash sprang up high, leaping from the ground with effortless strength. He shot through the trees, jumping with such speed that the air rushed past them.

After a few moments of wild jumping, Mash landed softly on the ground, sprinting back toward the main beach, and securely held Lemon.

“Where are we going?"

“Back to the main beach. We’re not staying lost forever, Lemon-chan."

“Ah! My handsome prince!” She squealed even louder.

And so, the two of them rushed back, with Lemon still acting as the overly dramatic damsel.

< • >

Fifth to arrive were Kiwi and Anna, both of them treading nervously through the dark forest.

Despite Rayne’s promise of a protective forcefield around the entire forest, Kiwi couldn't shake the sense of unease that crept up her spine with every rustle of the trees. She clutched Anna’s arm tightly, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow.

“I don’t like this, Anna-chan,” Kiwi mumbled. “It’s so... quiet. What if something’s out there? What if we get eaten by something?”

Anna, though equally uncomfortable, gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Kiwi-chan. We’re safe. Rayne-san made sure of that! The forest might be scary, but nothing’s gonna happen to us.”

“But what if there’s a monster or something? Or maybe a ghost? I hate ghosts…” She squeezed Anna's arm a little tighter.

“There’s no ghosts, Kiwi-chan. And even if there were, I’d tell them to leave us alone. They’re no match for us!” She gave her a playful nudge. “We’re tough, right?”

“You’re right... I guess I just get a little carried away. I mean, it’s not like we’re completely defenseless or anything.”

“Exactly! We’ve got this. You don’t have to be scared. I’m here with you.” The young Crown smiled. “And, hey, if we see any creepy things, I’ll make sure they know they’re messing with the wrong people.”

Kiwi looked up at her with a small smile, her fears momentarily forgotten. “You’re right. We’re fine. You’re always so calm. I wish I could be like that…”

Anna felt a little embarrassed. “You’ll get there, Kiwi-chan. Just stick with me. We’re in this together.”

Kiwi nodded, still a little jumpy but comforted by her friend's words.

“You’re amazing, Anna-chan. Maybe that’s why Citrus nii-chan likes you…”

The young Crown blinked, confused. “Citrus-kun? What do you mean by that?”

She quickly tried to cover up her slip. “N-nothing! Forget I said anything! Let’s just keep going!”

As they walked on, Anna couldn’t help but wonder about her brother, Lance. She glanced back in the direction they had come from, her mind wandering.

“I wonder how nii-chan’s doing…”

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER TEN ||
| Epidem and the Crowns |

THE dense forest was alive with the sounds of cicadas and rustling leaves, illuminated by the faint glow of fireflies. Dot and Citrus trudged through the underbrush, their flashlight swinging as they tried to navigate the test of courage.

They were the last to enter the forest, with Lance and Epidem going first before them.

“This test is lame,” Citrus muttered, kicking a stray pebble. “Like, what’s even the point of all this? Getting scared in the dark? Super lame.”

Dot pouted, “You’re just scared.”

“I’m not scared!” The young Irvine retorted, “It’s just dumb. There are way better things I could be doing.”

“Like what? Playing games in your room?” Dot teased. “C’mon, live a little. Besides, this’s perfect for bonding, ya know? Like, guy talk.”

“Guy talk? What’s that supposed to be?”

“Uh, anything? Like, we talk about each other’s crushes or better yet, girlfriends.”

The young blonde stared at the redhead like he was the biggest idiot in the world, bigger than his own sister.

“You do know I’m like, 12 years old, right? And that sounds more like ‘girl talk’ than ‘guy talk’.”

Dot rubbed the back of his chin and yelled defensively, “That’s… That doesn’t matter!”

Citrus sighed, massaging his forehead in frustration. Though this was clearly a huge waste of time, he figured playing counselor to his woes wouldn’t be too boring.

“Whatever, guess I’ll act as your therapist for tonight.”

“Heh. Knew we could go bro-to-bro,” Dot smirked like it was a victory.

Citrus could only sigh. “Well then? What’d you want to say?”

“Lemon-chan! She’s the one I love! She’s your sister, so please, I’m begging you—tell me everything she likes! What can I do? How can I get her to even look at me?!”

The name hung in the air for a moment before Citrus stopped dead in his tracks. “Wait, my sister? Are you kidding me?”

“It’s just… she’s cute, you know? And bubbly. And pretty. And so smart. And, uh, she’s got this way of making you feel like you’re the only guy in the world when she talks to you… sometimes.”

Citrus groaned, “You’re nuts. Nee-san is an idiot! Who falls for someone like that?”

“Opposites attract.”

“Dude… you’re both complete idiots,” Citrus said, staring at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “And seriously—why nee-san? You do realize she’s totally obsessed with your other friend, right?”

“That’s just a fun little gag between friends!” Dot excused, trying not to sound too desperate. “Kids like you wouldn’t understand at all!”

The young boy looked absolutely offended. “Then why’d you even ask me to listen?! Seriously…”

Dot laughed. “Hey, it’s not like I’m the only one here who ever fell in love! A kid like you should have a crush here and there.”

“I told you, there’s no one!” Citrus interjected too quickly.

Dot’s grin took on a sly edge. “Oh, please. I’ve seen how you act around Lance’s little sister. You’re practically a walking tomato whenever she’s around. Don’t tell me—you’ve got a thing for Anna, huh?”

At the mere mention of her name, the blonde boy’s face flushed a deep red, resembling said tomato.

“Shut up! I don’t like her!” He crossed his arms.

“Uh-huh. Sure you don’t. So, what do you like about her, huh? Her looks? Her personality? How she’s cute and sweet?”

“Stop it!” Citrus hissed, his face now fully crimson. He hesitated for a moment before mumbling, “… Anna-chan’s just… nice, okay? Like, she’s always so kind, even when I’m… mean. She still… invites me to stuff. She doesn’t have to, but she does.”

Dot’s teasing grin softened, “Sounds like you really care about her.”

“I don’t care!” Citrus shot back, though his tone lacked its usual bite. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “She’s just… she’s cool, okay? And… she’s always so patient. Even with me.”

The redhead’s eyes widened. “Wow. That’s actually… kinda sweet. You’re a real romantic, huh?”

“I’m not!” Citrus protested, but his voice cracked again, betraying his embarrassment.

“Damn, I’m jealous. You’ve got it good,” He tipped his chin in utter envy, “Hanging out with your crush and my Lemon-chan in the girls’ hut there. Bet it was nice, huh? All cozy and—”

“Shut up, you perv!” Citrus snapped, “And again, what the heck do you see in Nee-san?”

“You’re not exactly subtle, y’know?” Dot laughed. Sure, part of him still bristled at how Lemon’s brother got to hang around her all the time, but surprisingly, he didn’t mind this little guy talk with Citrus.

“Ah, young love,” he thought with a smirk, shaking his head at the irony.

“Still, I’m a little worried...” Citrus muttered. “Kiwi’s partnered up with her, and, well, she’s terrible with directions.”

Dot blinked, realization dawning on him. “Wait a second—why did we let two kids partner up and wander off alone in the forest?!”

The two of them froze, sharing a moment of stunned silence. How had none of the adults—any of them—thought twice about letting two kids go off by themselves?

Dot clapped a firm hand on Citrus’ shoulder. “We can’t let your sister and your girlfriend get lost out here. C’mon, let’s try to catch up to them!”

“S-She’s not my girlfriend!”

< • >

Meanwhile, the oppressive silence weighed heavy around Lance and Epidem, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the faint hoot of an owl in the distance.

Epidem found the quiet agreeable—it gave him time to think. He wasn’t one for fear; the only thing that truly terrified him was the horrifying possibility of losing the right to eat pudding forever. A fate worse than death, in his opinion.

Lance, however, was barely holding it together. Outwardly, he seemed the usual, but inside, his mind was a battlefield of spiraling panic. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he had somehow landed himself in the worst-case scenario of all worst-case scenarios.

First, he had allowed himself to be separated from Anna, his sister. The one person he swore to protect at all times, and she was now somewhere else in this cursed forest. Second, of all the people he could have been paired with, Epidem had to be the one. The smug, calculating pudding fanatic who always found a way to get under his skin. Third, in what could only be described as an uncharacteristically stupid decision, he had left his wand back at the bonfire. And finally—the cherry on top—they were deep in a forest, in the pitch-dark night, where bugs and ghosts could potentially be lurking.

Fucking bugs and ghosts.

The combination of these factors churned in Lance’s escalating anxiety. He glanced at the shadows that stretched between the trees, as though expecting a ghostly figure—or worse, a spider—to leap out at any moment. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, a poor attempt to keep himself grounded.

Epidem took notice. It was in his nature to scrutinize others, to piece together the subtle shifts in their body language and facial expressions. He could tell something was amiss with Lance.

“Ah,” Epidem said as though he were diagnosing a patient. “I couldn’t help but notice your sudden shift in demeanor, Lance Crown. You appear tense, almost... uneasy. One might even say you’re afraid.”

Lance didn’t respond, he just chose to ignore him.

“Could it be the darkness that unsettles you? Or perhaps the thought of wild animals? Bugs, perhaps? I’ve read that some people are particularly squeamish about those. Or...” He paused, “Ghosts? Though, of course, ghosts are a fallacy. Scientifically speaking, they do not exist.”

Lance froze mid-step. The audacity of this guy. The pure, unfiltered nerve.

For a brief moment, he considered his options: deny it, ignore it, or shut Epidem up. He opted for the latter.

“Just be quiet,” Lance shot a glare at him.

Epidem merely shrugged off Lance’s glare and continued walking as if this were just another stroll through a park.

Lance trailed behind him, every nerve in his body on high alert. He tried to focus on something—anything—other than the oppressive silence and the way the forest seemed alive with unseen movement. How could he keep an eye on Epidem at this rate?!

Then it happened.

A rustling sound, louder than before, came from a nearby bush.

Lance froze, gulping. Once. Twice. Ten times, as though swallowing his own fear would somehow make it disappear. It didn’t.

“What... what was that?” He asked, uncharacteristically scared.

Epidem stopped, glancing over his shoulder. “It was the wind.”

“That wasn’t the wind!” Lance suddenly yelled. “That’s definitely a ghost! Or worse—it’s some cursed forest yokai! We’re doomed!”

The rustling grew louder. Lance took an instinctive step back, clutching at nothing since he had stupidly left his wand behind.

Epidem rolled his eyes, walking calmly toward the bush. “If you’re that frightened, I’ll put your mind at ease. Stand back.”

“Wait, don’t—!” Lance protested, but Epidem was already parting the leaves on the bush.

What he found was... not exactly threatening. Two large, brightly colored beetles were enthusiastically mating under the cover of leaves, their shiny shells glinting faintly in the moonlight.

Epidem stared at the scene for a long moment, then let the leaves fall back into place. “It’s just a pair of nocturnal beetles,” he said “Mating, if you must know. Nothing remotely ghostly about it.”

Lance blinked at him, his face pale. “Beetles? Mating?”

“Yes. It’s a perfectly natural part of the insect life cycle,” He replied matter-of-factly.

But Lance had already caught a glimpse of the beetles before the bush was closed. Their glossy shells, their twitching legs—it was too much. His disgust hit a peak, and before Epidem could say another word, Lance’s eyes rolled back in his head. He let out a strangled noise, his mouth foamed, and he collapsed onto the forest floor.

To say Epidem was shocked would be an understatement as he stared at Lance’s limp, foam-covered form on the ground. Sure, he’d always known Lance Crown was a bit... off. The man was an unabashed siscon, after all. But ghosts? Foaming at the mouth over a pair of bugs mating?

“Hm. A bit of an overreaction,” He muttered. “And he calls me the strange one.”

< • >

Anna and Kiwi walked along the winding forest path, the canopy of trees casting dappled shadows around them. Kiwi hugged herself tightly, her eyes darting nervously at the rustling leaves.

"Are you okay, Kiwi-chan?"

"I’m okay. It’s just… I’m a little scared."

Anna smiled and held out her arm. "Here, you can hold onto me if you want. It might help."

Kiwi hesitated for a moment before gratefully linking their arms. "Thanks, Anna-chan! You remind me of nee-chan. Whenever I'm scared, she always holds my hand."

"Sounds like Lemon-san really cares about you."

“Yes!” Kiwi nodded quickly, her blonde hair bouncing. “She’s the best big sister ever! She’s so fun, and she always helps me when I need her. But… she’s so obsessed with Mash-san. Like, if she marries him, I’d have to be related to his scary brothers! If she does… I’d only wanna hang out with Doom-san and Domina-san. The rest are just too much…”

Anna laughed at her sudden enthusiasm. "Lemon-san sounds scary if she’s that in love with Mash-san, even nii-chan looks at her weirdly. Is Citrus-kun like that too?”

“Nii-chan? In love…?” Kiwi looked away. She may be tired of Citrus’ endless teasing but she would never snitch on her brother’s crush!

Fiddling, she replied. “I don’t think he likes anyone… I mean, he’s always in his room playing games, and he doesn’t look like he’s interested in love, so, um, yes! He probably doesn’t like anyone like that!”

“Oh?” Anna frowned for a bit before laughing, “I guess Citrus-kun is like that.”

"Yeah, nii-chan is just a huge gamer, y’know. Hehe, um," Kiwi trailed off, trying to change the subject. "What about your big brother, Lance-san?"

Anna’s expression softened, “Nii-chan is amazing too. When I got sick, he stayed with me the whole time. He always made sure I had everything I needed and that I felt safe. He even makes sure he’s there before I go outside, just in case.”

“That’s really nice!” Kiwi nodded. "But he sounds a bit overprotective?"

Anna pouted. "Yup, he is. Nii-chan even told me not to get a boyfriend! Though I think he was joking when he said he would kill whoever that could be.”

The young Irvine gulped. “I’m kind of scared for Nii-chan... he really likes Anna-chan, and Lance-san is really scary!”

As they walked, Kiwi's stomach let out a loud growl, breaking the moment.

"Oops…"

"Hungry already? Wait,” The young Crown looked at her backpack, hoping to find a snack of some sort. She found nothing edible. “Hm, let's see if we can find some berries in those bushes over there."

Kiwi shook her head. "No way! What if you pick something poisonous, like poison ivy?"

“Don't worry, Kiwi-chan. You stay here on the trail and wait for me, okay? I'll be right back."

Kiwi bit her lip nervously but reluctantly nodded. "Okay… just be careful, Anna-chan."

With a reassuring smile, Anna ventured into the bushes, her final words echoing faintly back to Kiwi. "I'll be right back."

But as the minutes stretched on, the young Irvine stood alone on the trail, her worry growing with each passing second. Anna didn't return.

< • >

As the day wore on, Lance and Epidem continued to walk along.

“Thank god my dear Anna didn’t see that.” Lance said, scrubbing off the dirt in his body.

“This Anna thing you speak of honestly makes me curious.”

"You aren’t allowed to speak her name," Lance muttered, glancing at Epidem from the corner of his eye. He didn't really expect the other man to understand.

Epidem, for his part, shrugged indifferently. He'd been unusually quiet, a trait that had begun to irk Lance even more than usual.

“Apologies.”

Lance sighed, shaking his head. He had grown accustomed to Epidem’s constant dismissiveness, but that was rather unexpected.

"Whatever. You wouldn't understand what it's like to care about someone like I do," He mumbled. "Anna’s different. She’s not just some… some thing."

Epidem tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Is it similar to how I feel about pudding?" He might as well have been talking about the weather for how little gravity his words carried.

"Not everything is about your stupid pudding," He shook his head again. "You wouldn't get it, so stop asking."

The silence stretched between them like a taut wire, until the faint sound of crying caught Lance’s attention. It was unmistakable—a soft sob, followed by a sniffle, echoing through the trees.

As they rounded a corner, the sight of a girl stopped them in their tracks. She was huddled on the ground, her small body shaking as tears streamed down her face.

"Kiwi? What are you doing here? Where’s Anna?!"

The girl looked up, her golden eyes red from crying. "L-Lance-san... Anna-chan... Anna-chan's gone!" she stammered, "She disappeared! I... I can't find her anywhere!"

Lance’s heart slammed against his chest. "Anna’s what?!" Panic surged through him. "Where did she go?"

"She said she was going to pick some berries, and that I should stay here..." She choked on a sob, unable to finish. “She went that way, I don’t know what to do...”

"She's fine," Epidem said casually, "She is bound to appear in due time—likely wandered off somewhere for the time being."

Lance turned on him, "This is Anna we're talking about. You don’t get it, Epidem." His words were barely contained as they spilled from him in a rush. "You treated her like a damn guinea pig. You never cared about her, so of course, you're just acting like this is no big deal."

Epidem was unfazed by his yelling, "And what exactly do you plan on doing?" he asked, "You can’t exactly search the whole forest by yourself."

"I’ll find her," Lance said, almost to himself. "I’m going to find Anna."

As if on cue, Dot and Citrus appeared from the direction of the camp, walking briskly towards them. Dot looked around, his gaze immediately falling on Kiwi. "What’s going on?"

"Take care of Kiwi and Citrus, Dot," Lance ordered. "I’m going after Anna."

Dot opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, Lance was already heading deeper into the woods. Epidem followed, with Lance sensing his presence behind him, the quiet footsteps not far behind his own.

Epidem's curiosity about Anna’s disappearance seemed to outweigh his apparent lack of concern for the girl.

"You’re really going to search the whole forest for this girl?" he asked, “I believe doing it alone is rather impractical.”

“Why are you following me?”

“I’m curious.”

“This guy and his fucking curiosity… I swear.”

The further they went, the more disoriented Lance became. The woods felt vast and endless, and the thought of Anna—his sister, his responsibility—lost somewhere in the wilderness gnawed at him.

They trudged on in silence, until finally, something caught Lance’s attention: a set of small footprints. He knelt down, inspecting them closely. "These are Anna’s," he muttered, “She’s close."

Epidem leaned over, his eyes scanning the tracks. "Hmm," he said. "But something’s wrong. These prints—they’re not fresh. Whoever made them is farther ahead."

Lance hated hearing his voice, but what he spoke of wasn’t a lie.

"I need to hurry," He said, pushing Epidem out of the way, "Anna could be in trouble."

As they rounded a bend in the trail, Lance’s gaze caught a flash of something white through the trees.

There, lying near a bush, was Anna. Her pale face was flushed with fever, her breathing shallow.

"Anna!" Lance’s eyes widened before rushing next to her. He knelt down, holding her hand, "Anna, can you hear me?"

Anna’s eyelids fluttered open unsteadily. "Nii-chan…”

His panic skyrocketed. "Hold on, I’m going to get you help."

Lance glanced around, considering if he could sprint fast enough to get help. His phone was nowhere in sight, and neither was his wand. Dot was too far away to call for backup, and the man beside him was useless when it came to magic—not that he’d ever stoop to asking Epidem for any help.

Why was he still here, anyway? Why did he have to follow him? As if it wasn’t bad enough that Epidem had already witnessed him passing out because of bugs—clearly, the world wasn’t done making him look weak in front of him.

"That bush," Epidem said, pointing to a nearby plant. "It’s an Oleander bush. The poison from those flowers can cause dizziness, confusion, and even death. You need to act quickly.”

Lance looked at the bush, then back at Anna, his face pale with fear. "Poison…?”

Of all things, it’s poison? Who can…? Finn! Maybe healing magic as strong as his could…

Epidem suddenly knelt next to him, observing Anna like a doctor. He sighed, “Her condition is already terrible, healing magic could only do so much.”

“What do you mean? How do you know all of this? How do you know about the poison, about what to do?” His thoughts swirled.

"I could explain, but I suspect you wouldn’t like the reason how I possess such knowledge to begin with."

Lance gritted his teeth, already fully knowing what this pudding-obsessed freak meant. Of course poison is something he’d know all about.

“Does it truly matter how I know? Or why I’m here?” Epidem spoke again, pointing towards the young Crown, “Right now, the only thing that matters is saving her, am I correct?"

Lance’s jaw tightened, his distrust warring with his desperation. He wanted to shove Epidem aside, to tell him to stay out of this—but Anna’s labored breaths reminded him that time was running out.

“Tell me what to do to save her.” He finally said.

"You need activated charcoal to help her. It’ll help absorb the poison.”

Lance interrupted, glancing around desperately. "Where am I supposed to find activated charcoal out here?"

"Campfire charcoal. From yesterday. It’ll have to do." He then handed it to him, “Here.”

Lance gritted his teeth. "I’ll make it work."

He wasn’t about to lose Anna—not like this.

Lance crushed the charcoal into a fine powder and mixed it with water. He didn’t care about the mess that stained his clothes, he didn’t care about anything except Anna.

With trembling hands, Lance forced the mixture into Anna’s mouth. "Come on, please.”

Epidem knelt down beside them, checking her pulse. "She should be better in about an hour or so. You did well to act fast. The worst is over."

Lance didn’t respond immediately, still watching Anna’s face, willing her to wake up. Though Anna hadn’t completely woken up, over time, her fever had slowly gone back to normal.

"Why would you help?"

Epidem tilted his head, considering the question. "If my pudding was in the same situation, I’d want to save it too."

Lance stared at him, the words sinking in. For a moment, the two of them locked eyes—Lance, still suspicious, and Epidem, still detached. Finally, Lance exhaled slowly, reluctantly acknowledging him.

"You’re really weird.”

“And you’re a siscon.”

“That’s not weird.”

“I didn’t say such thing.”

Epidem looked the other way, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Lance felt it. It wasn’t friendship, and it wasn’t trust, but it was a truce—a tentative, uneasy one.

As they stood in silence, a sudden dizziness overtook Lance, and he staggered, dropping to his knees in a heap on the ground. Epidem blinked, completely unaware of what was happening.

He muttered, “Were you poisoned as well?”

Just then, Dot arrived with a bemused expression. "I’ve finally caught up with you two! Kiwi and Citrus are both back at the beach with nee-san,” he informed, before noticing Lance on the floor. “Oh, damn. Lance must have held in his fear of ghosts and bugs for so long, it finally caught up with him."

"Fear of ghosts and bugs?"

Dot nodded. "Yeah. Took him this long for his body to react."

Lance groaned. "Shut up, Dot."

“I see,” Epidem shrugged, clearly uninterested before looking at Anna, "May we return to the beach as soon as the little pudding has been healed? I am quite famished.”

Dot and Lance stared at the man.

“Little pudding…? Really?”

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER ELEVEN ||
| Siblings and the Cook-Off! |

THE faint sound of morning birds chirping drifted into the girls’ hut, but inside, the atmosphere was tense. Anna lay on the bed, pale but smiling, while Lance sat stiffly on a stool beside her. Kiwi stood near the wall, hands fidgeting nervously with the braids in her hair.

“I’m really sorry, nii-chan,” Anna whispered, “I thought the berry was safe. I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.”

Lance didn’t immediately respond with his gaze fixed on her. His mind was swirling with thoughts of how careless it had been to let her wander off into the forest alone. Before he could speak, Kiwi suddenly stepped forward.

“It’s not Anna-chan’s fault! It’s mine!” The little one blurted, her voice trembling slightly. “If I wasn’t hungry… she wouldn’t have gone to the forest. Anna-chan… wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I’m really, really sorry.”

Lance blinked before shaking his head, sighing. “It’s not your fault either,” he said, his tone soft. “As the adults, we should not have left you two without any guidance. We failed you two.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he said firmly. “Stop blaming yourself.”

The room fell into an awkward silence, broken only when Citrus peeked into the hut.

“Uh… there’s a cook-off happening outside,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“A cook-off? Really?” Lance shot him an incredulous look. “After everything that just happened? Who thought that was a good idea?”

For some reason, Citrus hesitated. “Well, it’s not, uh, about anything serious. Just something to… lighten the mood, I think…” His shifty eyes betrayed the truth.

Lance narrowed his eyes. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing! It’s just a fun thing!” The young Irvine stammered, “Anyway, everyone’s already outside, so, uh… they said you should probably join… if you want.”

“I’m not leaving Anna. End of story.”

Anna shifted in bed, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Nii-chan, I’ll be fine,” she reassured, “You should go.”

“No,” He replied flatly.

“Come on, nii-chan…” She pressed as much as she could. “You should be there for your friends. Oh…! And, you could even make pudding.”

That stopped Lance in his tracks.

He stared at her. “Pudding? Why pudding? You hate pudding.”

Anna smiled softly, “It’s not for me. I thought you could make it as a thank-you for Epidem-san.”

Lance scowled, the mention of Epidem souring his mood further.

“Why would I thank him? He did help, but I won’t forget what he did to you before.”

“Still,” She looked out the window, “Even Epidem-san deserves a little thank-you. It’s only the right thing to do after someone helps you out. Right, nii-chan?”

Lance opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he saw the hopeful look in her eyes. He let out a long, frustrated sigh, rubbing his temple. “You’re too nice for your own good, Anna…”

“Please, nii-chan?”

“Anna, I—”

Her adorable eyes came into his sight, and he couldn’t hold back.

The older Crown hesitated for a moment longer before finally nodding. “Fine, I’ll make pudding. But you’d better rest while I’m gone.”

“You promise?”

Sighing reluctantly, he said, “I promise.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Citrus chimed in, still standing by the door. “You don’t have to worry. Kiwi and nee-san are pretty good in the kitchen, so they’ll manage without me.”

Lance raised an eyebrow at him, “You better take care of my dear sweet Anna. If anything happens—"

“Nothing will happen!” Anna interrupted, rolling her eyes playfully. “Now go, nii-chan. Show them what you can do! You’re the best cook I know!”

Lance stood, giving Anna’s hand a brief squeeze before heading toward the door. Kiwi followed closely, glancing back at her with a shy smile.

As the door clicked shut, the young Crown let out a small sigh, pulling the sheets up to her chin and curling onto her side. The faint sounds of clanging pots outside filtered into the hut.

“Nii-chan actually left…”

Citrus sat stiffly in a chair by the corner, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He glanced at Anna, then quickly looked away when she shifted under the blanket.

“Anna-chan needs rest... I should probably…”

“I’m surprised nii-chan left me alone with you,” Anna muttered suddenly, breaking the quiet. “He usually hates leaving me with boys.”

Citrus stiffened, his cheeks heating up. “I—I mean, it’s not like I’m going to do anything,” he muttered, “I’m just here to… y’know, make sure you’re okay.”

She hummed noncommittally, tucking the blanket tighter around herself. She closed her eyes for a moment, then peeked at him through her lashes. “You’re staring, Citrus-kun.”

“I wasn’t staring! I—I was just… thinking!” He jolted, his head snapping toward the ceiling.

“About what?”

“Uh… pudding.”

She opened one eye and gave him a skeptical look. “Pudding?”

“Yeah, pudding,” He said quickly, latching onto the excuse. “It’s… really complicated to make, you know? And I was just wondering if your big brother could pull it off.”

Anna let out a soft laugh, her eyelids fluttering shut again. “You’re a terrible liar, Citrus-kun.”

Citrus froze, unsure if she was serious or teasing. The silence returned, thicker than before, broken only by the occasional rustle of the sheets as Anna shifted.

After a long pause, he glanced at her again. “Do you… need anything? Water? A pillow?”

“No, I’m fine…” She muttered before dozing off.

“Oh. Okay.”

Leaning back in his chair, Citrus stared at the ceiling. He didn’t know why every movement she made him flinch as if he’d done something wrong.

“This is so awkward,” he muttered under his breath. His chest felt tight like it was holding onto something he couldn’t quite name.

He glanced at Anna again, her breathing soft as she finally fell into a peaceful sleep, he assumed. “Why does this feel so weird…?”

< • >

The cook-off was officially underway, and Delisaster was already in his element, gesturing wildly as he explained the rules to Lance the latecomer.

“Alright, Lancey-boy,” Delisaster drawled, leaning in with a grin.

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Whatever,” He said anyway, “Here’s the deal, okay? You’ve got, like, two hours to whip up the sweetest treat your brain can imagine. Like, really sugary. Think cavity-central, dude.”

Lance’s brow furrowed. “And who’s judging this?”

“Uhh… your, uh, opponents will be the judges,” The blonde replied, his voice rising with every “uh.” It was painfully obvious he was holding something back.

Lance’s eyes narrowed. “Really?”

“Details, details!” He waved him off, “Oh! And you gotta stick to your sibling group, no matter how big or small. Sibling bonding, y’know? Or, uh, sibling rivalry.” He paused, “Speaking of small groups… you’re solo, huh? Sure you can handle that? Cooking alone sounds, like, hard af, bro.”

Lance gave him a flat look. “If you’ve been cooking long enough, you’d know cooking alone is better than in a group.”

Delisaster was momentarily stunned, before cracking up. “Okay, chef. Show us what you got, solo master.”

Lance rolled his eyes first before turning toward the prep station without another word. He still couldn’t fathom how Finn and Rayne could keep up with someone as annoying as him.

He surveyed the beach, noticing how everything was meticulously arranged—five separate cooking stations facing each other in a perfect circle. It looked like something straight out of Hell’s Kitchen, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Ignoring the odd setup, he walked to his station, muttering, “Pudding, huh? Not hard.”

As he reached for the ingredients, reality hit him. The station was completely bare—nothing. Not a single ingredient in sight.

From across the beach, Delisaster’s voice rang out, “The fridge is first come, first serve, dude!”

Lance groaned, his frustration mounting. He wasn’t in the mood for this—he’d rather be back at the hut, making sure Anna was okay. But then, his mind spiraled into thoughts of what his little sister might say if he gave up.

“Nii-chan! You didn’t even try making them!”

“Nii-chan, you promised…”

“I hate you!”

Lance winced at the imagined words, even though he knew Anna would never say them like that. Still, the guilt gnawed at him.

“Fine,” he muttered to himself, “Pudding only has five ingredients anyway.”

He begrudgingly moved to the other stations, hoping to borrow what he needed from the other siblings. He’d do this for Anna—even if it meant putting up with his own annoyance and his lingering dislike for making pudding for Epidem.

His gaze landed on two familiar figures near one of the tables—the Ames brothers. Of all the siblings, these two were the most “normal” in Lance’s eyes. Finn was easygoing, polite, and the nicest guy he knew, while Rayne, well, Rayne was a respected senior of his—someone who had a whole career as a Divine Visionary before him.

In Lance’s mind, these two were the least likely to be involved in any weirdness.

That is, until Lance actually reached them.

The sight before him was… unsettling, to say the least.

Rayne was standing over a grater, grating carrots with a look of utter despair on his face. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyes were slightly red, as though he’d been holding back tears for a while. Finn was awkwardly patting him on the back, trying to console him in the most Finn way possible.

“Nii-san, it’s okay,” Finn said, “We’ll see your rabbits again soon.”

Lance blinked, trying to process what he was witnessing. Rayne, of all people, brooding over grating carrots? He'd always thought of Rayne as someone who was cool, collected, and, above all, stoic.

Seeing him like this? Unbelievable.

“Uh… is everything alright here?” Lance asked, a bit unsure of how to approach the scene.

Finn turned to him. “Oh, Lance-kun! We’re okay, nii-san is just missing his rabbits back home.” He pouted, “He trusts Max-san to take care of them, but, you know, these carrots kind of reminded him of them.”

Rayne’s scary aura remained though he muttered something about how it wasn’t the same.

Lance looked at the grating carrots, then back at Rayne, then at Finn. He and Rayne had always been so alike, or so he thought.

But this? This was something entirely new to him. It was uncanny to see Rayne obsessing over something so weird.

Finn raised an eyebrow, noticing the judgment in his friend’s eyes. “Kinda funny Lance-kun’s freaked out by this. It’s as if his obsession with Anna-chan’s not weirder…”

The little brother continued patting Rayne on the back again.

Lance cleared his throat, trying to get back to the task at hand. “Right, well, I came over for something, actually…”

“Oh?” Finn tilted his head.

“Do you guys have any extra salt and butter?” He then pointed to the impressive stack of butter near the edge of their station.

Finn beamed. “Of course!” He reached over and handed him an entire block of butter as well as a container of salt. “Take as many as you need, Lance-kun!”

Lance took both, still a little thrown off by Rayne’s rabbit breakdown, but grateful for Finn’s kindness. He mumbled his thanks and turned to head back to his station, wondering just how much more strange the day could get.

< 2 OUT OF 6 INGREDIENTS ACQUIRED! >

Lance scanned the cooking stations scattered along the beach, searching for the next ingredient on his list. Milk.

He sighed. Considering the chaotic nature of this impromptu cooking activity, finding something as simple as milk felt like a scavenger hunt. His gaze landed on the Irvine sisters, who appeared to be in perfect harmony, stirring some sort of batter.

His initial thought was that Lemon, despite her glaring obsession with Mash, was mostly normal. Her siblings, though? Lance didn’t really have a strong opinion on them. They had spent time with Anna while she was recovering, visiting frequently enough that he couldn’t exactly dislike them. Kiwi, the younger of the two sisters, was close with Anna—practically a little sister figure to her.

Citrus? Well, Citrus was… good with Anna. Too good, actually. Not that Lance felt the need to overanalyze the situation—he just appreciated seeing Anna happy. After all, Citrus couldn’t have some kind of agenda, right? That would be ridiculous.

Shaking off the thought, Lance approached the sisters.

Lemon cheerfully handed items to Kiwi without a word, and Kiwi incorporated them into the batter with remarkable precision. The rhythmic swirl of their spoons was mesmerizing.

Against his better judgment, Lance found himself commenting, “I didn’t know you were good at baking, Lemon.”

Lemon’s face lit up. “Of course! As the future housewife of Mash-kun, baking comes naturally to me! A wife’s duty is to prepare delicious meals for her husband every day, after all!” She clasped her hands together dreamily. “I’ve already planned out our weekly menu. Monday will be creampuff casseroles, Tuesday creampuff salads, Wednesday creampuff soufflés—”

Lance grimaced internally. Does she even hear herself?

Still, he said nothing, watching as Lemon retrieved items for her little sister. It was becoming increasingly clear that Kiwi was the one in charge.

Speaking of Kiwi, she was eerily quick to catch on to what Lance needed. Without even glancing up from the batter, she reached over and handed him a carton. “Here’s the milk, Lance-san.”

He blinked. He hadn’t even asked. “Uh… thanks.”

Kiwi nodded absentmindedly, already moving on to the next step in her process. Lance couldn’t help but think how unnervingly perceptive she was. It was as if she could read minds—or, at the very least, anticipate everyone’s needs before they were voiced.

With the milk in hand, Lance turned to leave, shooting one last glance at the duo. Maybe he’d misjudged how functional this family really was. Then again… maybe not.

< 3 OUT OF 6 INGREDIENTS ACQUIRED! >

Lance still needed half of the ingredients, and neither of his options were what he’d consider normal. He was debating whether to risk asking for help when, without warning, a box of coffee grounds came flying toward him. Naturally, Lance caught it before it hit his face.

“WHAT THE HELL, NEE-SAN?!” Dot’s voice pierced through the chaos, followed by the sound of something shattering—probably his dignity, Lance figured.

“Don’t you ‘what the hell’ me!” Malta snapped back, pointing her finger at his forehead, “I’m not letting you sprinkle coffee beans on our chocolate mousse! What’s next, putting bacon in your brownies?”

“Don’t you dare disrespect bacon brownies!” Dot shot back, slamming his hands on the counter, “Besides, these weren’t just any coffee beans—they were the good stuff! Imported! Expensive! And you threw them out like trash!”

“I threw them out because they were trash!” She retorted, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You don’t even know how to use them. What were you gonna do? Grind them with your fists?”

“I could grind them with my fists if you hadn’t thrown them away!”

Lance sighed deeply before chucking the box of coffee grounds back at Dot’s head. “Coffee beans don’t belong on chocolate mousse, idiot.”

Dot caught the box delicately as he could. “Says who?!”

“Says literally everyone with taste buds.”

“You’re just mad because you have no imagination!” Dot countered, “Why can’t we be innovative, huh? Ketchup goes into spaghetti, right? Same concept!”

Lance blinked. “That’s… not even remotely the same concept. Do you even hear yourself?”

“Yes! And I think I’m making sense!”

“You sound like a toddler who thinks peanut butter belongs on pizza.”

Dot’s jaw dropped. “Peanut butter on pizza is genius! Nee-san, write that down!”

“I will not write that down, stupid.” Malta groaned.

Lance didn’t even need to ask. It was obvious—Dot’s stupidity skyrocketed when Malta was around. Almost like he was deliberately testing her patience because he knew she’d swoop in to fix his messes. It wasn’t the first time Lance had observed this dynamic between siblings. He didn’t judge Dot for it—well, not too much.

Still, there was something oddly endearing about how Malta, usually so laid-back, got uncharacteristically loud and stubborn when Dot was involved. They seemed to light up when they’re together, even if it was to argue over nonsense like coffee beans.

As the Barrett siblings bickered like two caffeinated seagulls fighting over a fry, Lance’s gaze landed on a bottle of vanilla extract and a couple of bags of cornstarch lying forgotten in the corner.

Without a word, he quietly grabbed them and walked off.

< 5 OUT OF 6 INGREDIENTS ACQUIRED! >

The last ingredient Lance needed was sugar, and he cursed his luck. None of the other siblings had any left, which meant his only option was Mash and his brothers. His absolute final, desperate option.

Dragging his feet, he approached their group, fully intending to speak with Mash alone and avoid the chaos that inevitably followed the others. Unfortunately, the moment he got close, it was clear they were in the middle of a loud argument.

“Apple pie is easy, and everyone loves apple pie,” Domina claimed. “Besides, I doubt any of you can handle something more complicated.”

“Bruh, that shit’s way too basic. It ain’t up my aisle.” Delisaster shot back, leaning in with a devilish grin. “Why not make graham balls with marshmallow inside? Those are lit!”

Domina raised an eyebrow. “Graham balls, huh? Figures you'd like something like that. Always thinking about—”

“DON’T YOU EVEN FINISH THAT SENTENCE, YOU UPTIGHT PRICK—”

Domina ignored him completely, continuing, “I’m sticking with apple pie. At least it’s respectable.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy whose only personality trait is hating everyone but the mushroom head here,” Delisaster muttered under his breath.

Before Domina could retaliate, Epidem cleared his throat. “Gentlemen,” he said, “In a time where desserts are required, there is only one logical choice: pudding. It is versatile. Elegant. Timeless.”

“God, you’re a broken record, dude.” The blonde groaned, “Not everyone is obsessed with your boring ass dessert!”

“And not everything is about you, you attention-seeking clown.”

“EAT SHIT, YOU PRETENTIOUS PRICK! I’M NOT A FUCKIN’ CLOWN!”

Meanwhile, Doom stood off to the side, looking entirely unfazed by the shouting. “Mash,” he said calmly, “I’ve always wanted to make pancakes with you. Ever since we fought.”

“That’s nice, Doom,” Mash said in his usual monotone. “We’re making creampuffs, though.”

Famin rolled his eyes, “Creampuffs? Who even likes those?”

“I do,” Mash replied simply.

As the banter escalated, Lance stood there, wondering why he’d even bothered coming. It wasn’t until Famin—who had been eating a hamburger and sitting right next to Mash this whole time—finally chimed in with a sarcastic, “This is riveting,” that Lance forced himself to speak.

“Mash. Do you have any extra sugar? I just need sugar. Nothing else.”

Mash blinked, looking up from a mixing bowl. “Yeah, sure.” Without further explanation, he walked over to a storage box and casually handed Lance a 10-kilo bag of sugar as though it weighed nothing.

Lance stared at the bag. “…Thanks.”

“No problem.”

As Lance walked away with a cup of sugar, he could still hear Domina yelling something about how Delisaster was “dumber than pudding,” Doom trying to convince someone to let him flip pancakes, and Famin muttering about how none of this was his problem.

He decided it was best not to look back.

< 6 OUT OF 6 INGREDIENTS ACQUIRED! >

Back in the girls' hut, Anna stirred awake, the remnants of her short nap still tugging at her eyelids. She sat up slowly, stretching her arms, when her gaze suddenly met another.

“Ah! Citrus-kun!” she exclaimed. “I… forgot you were here.”

Citrus, perched stiffly on a chair near the window, immediately turned red. His arms crossed defensively as he leaned back, “Y-Yeah, I guess I am…! But it’s not like I wanted to.”

Anna blinked at him, then giggled. “You’re so funny. Though I’m pretty sure you’re the one who decided to stay here.” She tilted her head curiously. “How long was I asleep?”

“Hmph. About 30 minutes,” he muttered, looking away with a huff. “Not that I was keeping track or anything!”

“This feels kind of familiar, doesn’t it? Like when we first met.”

Citrus stiffened, his eyes darting to her before quickly flicking away again. “W-What about it?”

“You were so shy back then,” Anna said, “Lemon-san brought you and Kiwi-chan to meet me, and we all just sat there awkwardly at first. I didn’t know what to say, and you looked like you didn’t want to be there at all.”

“Th-That’s not true!” Citrus sputtered, “I just… didn’t know you yet, okay? But it’s not like I wanted to come anyway.”

“But you did come. And I remember you teaching me that card game Kiwi-chan made up. You were really patient with me.”

Citrus’s blush deepened, and he crossed his arms tighter. “I-I was just being nice, that’s all. Kiwi wouldn’t leave me alone if I didn’t. And you were all... quiet and stuff. It was weird!”

Anna placed a hand on her chest, pretending to be hurt. “Weird? That’s a little mean, Citrus-kun.”

“I-I didn’t mean it like that! Geez, why do you always twist my words? I just… you were nice, okay? And maybe it wasn’t so bad hanging out with you. Happy now?”

The youn Crown couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered reaction. “I’m just teasing! I really appreciated it back then. You were such a good friend to me. You still are.”

Citrus froze, his lips pressing into a thin line as he looked away, scratching the back of his head.

“…Well, yeah. Of course. Someone’s gotta look out for you.” He began mumbling, “And… I guess I don’t mind doing it.”

She reached out, giving his sleeve a gentle tug. “Thank you, Citrus-kun. I’m really glad we’re friends.”

Citrus jolted at the touch, his entire face turning beet red. “D-Don’t just—! I mean, w-what are you even saying?!” he stammered, his voice pitching up as he took a step back, though his hands flailed awkwardly in front of him.

Anna giggled. “Why are you getting so flustered? I was just saying thank you.”

“I-I’m not flustered!” His cheeks puffed out as he yelled, “You’re the one being weird! D-Don’t just… say stuff like that out of nowhere! Geez…”

“You’re so cute when you get embarrassed, Citrus-kun.”

“C-CUTE?!” He practically choked on the word. “T-There’s nothing cute about me!”

“If there’s anyone cute here, It’d be you, Anna-chan…”

< • >

Lance set the final pudding on the table, wiping a speck of imaginary dust from its delicate surface. The golden custard gleamed under the sunlight streaming into the hut, its perfectly smooth top a testament to his dedication.

“Even if this wretched dish reminds me of that Epidem, I must admit… this pudding is perfect.” He admired it like a painter marveling at a masterpiece.

But just as he began to relax, his entire body stiffened.

A chill ran down his spine. The faintest whisper of his siscon senses tingled. He looked around and none of the other siblings were near Anna anyway, other than Citrus, that is.

“Must’ve been a false alarm.”

Once all the siblings finished cooking, the long table was adorned with an impressive spread of dishes.

The Ames Brothers proudly presented their contribution—a soft, golden carrot cake topped with fluffy cream cheese frosting. Finn nervously wiped his hands on his apron while Rayne stood there, not smiling but proud.

The Irvine Sisters offered a dazzling waffle platter, complete with crisp, golden waffles and an array of toppings: whipped cream, fruit compotes, chocolate drizzle, and even powdered sugar dusted in perfect little clouds. Kiwi shyly adjusted her braids while Lemon struck a triumphant pose.

The Barrett Duo unveiled a luxurious chocolate mousse served in individual cups, each topped with a sprinkle of grated chocolate and a mint leaf. Dot couldn’t stop grinning while Malta simply rolled her eyes.

Mash and his brothers brought out an absurdly large tray of creampuffs. There were classics like apple and blueberry, creative options like s’mores and pudding-flavored ones, and… beef-flavored creampuffs. Mash stood proudly in front of the tray while Domina silently grabbed a creampuff, already chewing.

Finally, Lance stepped forward, presenting his masterpiece: an exquisite pudding that looked as if it belonged in a five-star restaurant. The siblings leaned in, impressed by its elegance—until Dot couldn’t resist breaking the moment.

“Wow, Lance,” Dot teased, “Did you write ‘to Epidem, with love’ on it? Or does he already know?”

Lance’s eye twitched, but he forced himself to ignore the jab. “If you have enough time to make jokes, you could’ve done more than be a deadweight to Malta-san when she made that mousse.”

Dot’s jaw dropped. “It’s ‘we’ who made that! ‘We’! You wanna say that again, pudding boy?!”

Finn quickly stepped between them, “H-Hey, let’s not fight, okay?”

Lance sighed and turned to the table. “So, who’s judging this?”

The room fell silent. Every sibling turned to Lance with identical expressions of confusion.

“What?”

“Lance-kun,” Finn called, “Don’t tell me… You didn’t know what this cook-off was really for when you made that pudding?”

“What are you talking about?”

“...You really didn’t know?” The young Ames looked at him in pity.

Before he could clarify, the door to the girls’ hut burst open. Delisaster waltzed in with his usual flair, balancing several plates in his hands, while Mash followed behind, carrying the rest like they weighed nothing.

“What are you guys doing here?” Anna blinked in confusion as Delisaster cheerfully declared, “Delivery for Miss Anna Crown!”

Mash placed a mountain of creampuffs on the small table, and Delisaster theatrically gestured to the spread. “A feast fit for royalty! Your humble chefs have arrived.”

Her jaw dropped as she stared at the massive assortment of food. “Wha—what’s all this for?”

Citrus, who had been sitting quietly by her side, straightened up. “I-It’s no big deal or anything…” He scratched the back of his neck, “I just thought… y’know, maybe all this sweet stuff would make you feel better. So I, um, asked nee-san if she could convince everyone to cook for you.”

Anna blinked, her initial confusion melting into a warm smile. “That’s so sweet of you... You really thought of all this… for me?”

“W-Well, yeah. I mean… someone had to.”

Anna tilted her head, “You’re always so thoughtful. I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”

Citrus froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t tell if the heat in his face was from the compliment or the sheer proximity of Anna’s soft gaze. “I-It’s not like I did it just to hear you say that!”

She was momentarily confused by his sudden defensiveness, before giggling again. “You’re so funny, Citrus-kun. But really, thank you. I mean it.”

“Y-You’re welcome,” he mumbled before taking something from behind his back, fumbling as it almost fell out of his hands. “It’s not just them, I… baked something for you too.”

Anna’s eyes widened as Citrus shyly held out a single creampuff. It was a little lopsided, the filling threatening to spill out from the slightly uneven pastry shell. It was obvious that this was his first attempt at baking.

“It’s not like… anything special or whatever,” He muttered, looking everywhere but at her. “Mash-san and his brothers made, like, a whole gourmet creampuff buffet. This doesn’t even compare to that…”

Anna gently took the creampuff from his hands, “You made this? For me?”

“W-Well, yeah. But don’t make a big deal out of it! It’s just a creampuff! It’s not like I—”

Before he could finish, Anna took a big bite. Her eyes lit up immediately, and she smiled brightly as she chewed. “It’s delicious!”

Citrus’s eyes widened. “You—you think so?”

“It’s the most delicious creampuff I’ve ever had!” She paused, “Thank you, Citrus-kun! You even remembered that creampuffs are my favorite.”

“Of course, I would! But um, don’t think about it too much! I-I just… thought you’d like it, that’s all.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had someone go to so much effort for me before… You’re really amazing!” She smiled so adorably.

Meanwhile, Lance had frozen in place, his jaw hanging open. He stared at the table of food and then at Anna. “Wait a second…” He whipped around to Finn. “Are you telling me the judge for this entire cook-off… is Anna?! My Anna?!”

“Well, technically not the ‘judge.’ She just gets to eat most of it.”

Lance’s face turned pale as a horrible realization dawned on him. He gasped dramatically, clutching his pudding dish. “But I made… pudding…” His voice cracked. “Of all things. Pudding. Anna hates pudding.”

Dot continued, “It was actually Citrus’ idea to do this. He thought your little sister could use some cheering up.”

Lance’s eyes widened in horror at the mention of Citrus. His “siscon senses” went into overdrive as he turned sharply to Citrus, who was sitting next to Anna. His little sister was happily eating, and before Lance could react, Anna leaned forward and suddenly hugged Citrus.

“Thank you, Citrus-kun! You’re such a good friend!” She said as both of them were in a tight embrace.

Lance could only watch. Citrus. Near Anna. Hugging Anna. FRIEND?! It was too much. His vision swam with imaginary scenarios of Anna and Citrus smiling at each other, laughing, holding hands—no, proposing!

“No! Not my Anna!” Lance screamed internally, his brain short-circuiting.

With an overly dramatic gasp, he clutched his chest and promptly fainted, collapsing onto the floor.

Delisaster poked Lance’s unconscious body with a spoon. “What’s his problem? Did his pudding turn out that bad?”

In the end, Anna pushed Lance’s gourmet pudding away, and gave it to Epidem as a thank you.

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER TWELVE ||
| Mash and the Burnedeads |

THE cook-off had somehow ended in peace, and Lance simply cried about Anna’s speedy “growing up” situation. Anyone knows full well that letting the sweet girl learn of his big brother’s tendencies will shatter the Crown family.

Anyways, everyone was full, exhausted, and sprawled across the beach like lazy sea creatures.

Delisaster stretched out on the sand, staring at the sky. "Bro, I am so over cooking. Like, deadass, if I even think about touching a pan again, just deck me."

Rayne nodded, "Good."

Delisaster snorted before his eyes flickered to where Finn had disappeared. “Your little bro sure has changed, huh?”

“…What do you mean?”

"Bro, peep my guy out here—dishing out cake, dappin’ people up like he’s been doin’ this his whole life. Man, I remember how he looked like he’d straight-up evaporate if someone even looked at him too long."

Rayne hummed, following Delisaster’s gaze. It was true—Finn was a far cry from the nervous wreck he used to be. He had grown, becoming more confident, and more dependable.

Was reconciling with his brother really something that nagged Finn for that long?

The blonde continued, “Dude’s actually holding his own. He doesn’t even flinch when I tease him now! Crazy, right?” Then, with a sly grin, he added, “Almost makes me wanna steal him for myself.”

Rayne’s head snapped toward him, “You—what?”

He blinked, then processed what the Sword Cane was thinking—and immediately burst into laughter. “PFFT—BRO. You’re so serious!” He clutched his stomach, "Dude, you actually think I’m out here tryna steal your little bro? LMAO, that’s wild."

The latter scowled, “You said it yourself.”

“I was joking?!” The blonde wheezed, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "You’re mad protective. What, you gonna throw hands with me over your little bro or what?"

Rayne crossed his arms, “…I wouldn’t put it past you to be a bad influence.”

“Please, I’m like, half a bad influence. Maybe even less. I give him great advice, y’know—like how to mess with you properly.” Delisaster smirked. “By the way, I told him calling you ‘Ray-Ray’ would be hilarious—”

Rayne stood up immediately. “I’m leaving.”

“AHAHA—C’MON, I’M KIDDING—”

Meanwhile, Domina stretched and sighed after finishing his meal. Kiwi had asked him to tag along with Anna and Citrus, so he agreed. The kids were talking about random stuff, but it was mostly the usual: school, how annoying it was that the creampuff stash was gone, and all the common stuff.

Finn walked up to them, holding a big slice of carrot cake. “You guys gotta try this!”

As they all enjoyed the cake, the conversation drifted into lighter territory. Domina, watching the playful banter between Anna and Citrus, couldn't help but notice how much closer they seemed. They were practically inseparable these days, teasing each other like a couple.

“You two are closer than you’ve ever been. Looks like something's going on.”

Kiwi laughed, “Y-Yeah! Nii-san and Anna-chan are both so clueless.”

“N-No, we don’t!” Anna stammered, face flushing red. Citrus quickly echoed the same, his voice high-pitched. “W-We’re not like that!”

Finn watched the two, his eyes softening with fondness. “Ah, young love. So adorable.”

As the kids talked about love, Domina couldn’t help but feel a tightness in his chest. It was so easy for them, so natural. Kiwi teasing Anna and Citrus about their “something” for each other, Finn’s warm chuckle, and the way the two younger siblings flustered so easily—it all felt so effortless.

He had seen love before—people had cared about him in their own way, but never in the way they were talking about. That raw, unconditional love for a certain someone. It had always felt just out of reach.

Finn slid next to his side and nudged his arm, “Hey. You okay?”

“I don’t know what it feels like.” He paused for a moment, “Love, like that.”

“You don’t think you’ve ever felt it?”

Domina thought for a moment, then asked, “What does love feel like?”

Finn smiled softly, then gently placed his hand over Domina’s chest. “Love is felt here,” he said quietly. “Right here.”

Domina went still.

“That warm feeling in your heart? That’s love. You can love people, and people can love you, too.” He paused, letting the words sink in before continuing.

“You’ve got a lot of people who care about you, Domina-san. We all do, especially Mash-kun. I bet he’s one of those who loves you the most. You’re here, with us, and that alone means something. It might be hard to see it right now, but you’re loved.”

Domina had never quite understood it, but now, something clicked. He thought back to the warmth he felt whenever he was with Mash, Kiwi, Citrus, Anna, even Finn—the little moments, the soft feelings of happiness that bubbled up, the comfort in their presence.

That was the feeling of being… loved? His chest warmed, and for the first time, Domina felt it—a soft, deep happiness, one he hadn’t fully understood until now.

“Really? So…” he smiled a little. “I’ve felt it all along… thanks to all of you…”

Finn smiled just as brightly, “You’ve always been loved, Domina-san. You just needed to see it.”

As the conversation quieted, Citrus hesitated for a moment before raising his hand. With a simple flick of his wrist, a burst of soft, radiant magic flowed from his fingertips—“Floriferus.” Delicate flowers bloomed in his palm, their petals in shades of lavender, pale yellow, and soft pink—just as the three kids had chosen.

“Tetherlace…” Kiwi whispered, using her magic to weave the flowers together along with the yarn that came from her backpack. The blooms floated gently in the air, intertwining with her threads until the bouquet took shape, a lovely collection of colors and textures.

Anna, standing nearby, saw the flowers starting to settle into place. She raised her hand and cast a simple Levitation spell, guiding the bouquet gently into Domina’s hands. The flowers hovered delicately as Anna made small adjustments, making sure the bouquet was balanced and in perfect alignment.

Citrus mumbled, “We thought... maybe you’d like these.”

Kiwi nodded, “Yeah. They’re for you, Domina-san! We thought you’d like it, you played with us for the past days, so… um…”

“We’re glad you’re our friend!” Anna finished.

He looked at the bouquet, almost crying. He gently took the flowers from Citrus, feeling a softness he’d never expected. “Thank you.”

Domina felt truly, deeply loved.

During all that, Dot was walking all around the beach to find his big sister. His eyes widened as he spotted Doom and Malta paddling furiously in the sea. “Are they…?”

“They’re in another strength competition…”

Malta yelled from afar, “But this time, it’s a speed contest!”

“I’ve never seen you like this, nee-san. You’re actually pumped!” He was amazed. Malta had never been this intense.

Doom rowed, “This is very fun. I’m faster than I thought I could.”

Malta shot him a teasing grin. “Not faster than me!”

Meanwhile, Epidem, sitting a little away from the chaos, took another bite of the pudding Lance made. “This is... perfect,” he said, his eyes closing in delight. “Lance Crown, while our relationship may not be the most amicable, I must admit—this pudding is exceptional.”

Lance just shook his head, “Thanks… I guess. It’s just pudding.”

Dot and Lance exchanged a quick glance, both of them silent, but something about it felt ominous.

“What are we thinking?”

Lance groaned, “Not sure. But I don’t like it.”

Off to the side, Famin stood, watching Dot and Lance intently. He shivered, not out of fear, but with a strange excitement building inside him.

“Someone’s watching me,” he muttered under his breath, “Someone... I want to see.” Famin was unsettled, but in a way that thrilled him.

< • >

Ironically, from a distance, Mash sat there, staring at the scene unfolding around him. His brothers were getting along with his friends—well, most of them. It was a nice sight, seeing everyone having fun, but Mash couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

He felt... nice, but also, somehow, empty? Was empty even the right word to describe it?

In typical Mash fashion, the realization hit him. His friends had gotten closer to his brothers than he had. He’d been trying to bond with them, sure, but all he’d done so far was... fight, cook, and randomly challenge them. Not exactly the heart-to-heart bonding time he’d envisioned.

“Wait a minute,” Mash scratched his head. “I came here to get to know my brothers, not to watch everyone else do it.” He paused, “Well, that’s... awkward.”

Mash thought hard, trying to come up with a new idea. “Okay, a cook-off. That would be fun. Oh, wait, already did that.” He sighed. “What about a volleyball match? That’d be nice… Oh, right. We’ve done that, too.” He tapped his chin. “A test of courage? No, wait—already did that.”

He slumped back in defeat. “So, uh... A dance-off? A staring contest? Should I just ask them all to hang out? Is that bonding enough.” He glanced at his brothers, who were in the middle of yet another chaotic conversation with his friends.

Mash had come to a conclusion: if he was going to bond with his brothers, he was going to do it his way.

And true to his ideals, his idea of bonding involved sitting down next to them—without saying a word—and just... existing. That’s right, no talking, no activities, just awkward silence. Oh, and the occasional seagull squawking in the background to make things even more uncomfortable.

Mash plopped each of his brothers onto the logwood seat like a toddler trying to stack blocks—except the blocks were full-grown men, and the “stacking” involved a lot of awkward shuffling.

Doom raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing, Mash?”

“Bonding,” He answered, staring hard at the horizon like he was in some kind of movie montage.

There was a long silence. Delisaster adjusted his sunglasses. Famin fiddled with a rock. Epidem took a slow, deliberate bite of pudding. No one moved.

“Yep. This is bonding,” Mash muttered to himself, not noticing how everyone else was slowly edging away.

Eventually, they all drifted off, one by one, probably realizing this wasn’t as “bonding” as they’d imagined. It wasn’t until Domina stood up that Mash realized his “bonding” attempt had... failed.

Mash noticed Domina hadn't left though and figured, well, this was his chance to finally do something that would make them bond.

Kiwi and Anna had mentioned that Domina really liked the ocean, so Mash decided to go with that. If there was anything that could bring them together, it was water, right?

“Let’s... uh... go watch the ocean, Domina-kun.”

The pink-haired boy crossed his arms. “You do know you don’t have to sit in complete silence, right?”

“This is how you do it, right?” He didn’t blink. Not once, staring at the ocean, thinking that’s how Domina does it.

“Mash-kun, it’s not that serious. You don’t have to stare at the ocean like you’re a statue.”

“This is the way to bond.”

“Let’s go swim.” Domina sighed, clearly trying to salvage some semblance of an attempt at normal interaction.

“Swim? Extreme water survival training, got it.” His younger brother nodded.

Before Domina could even react, Mash was off, charging toward the sea. With little more than a grunt of effort, he dove straight in, splashing the water in a ridiculous, over-the-top fashion.

Domina followed behind, in awe at how his brother took every activity to such an extreme.

Mash was already well into his water “training.” He started doing handstand push-ups in the waves, popping up for air and then diving right back down. Every time he came up, he looked like he was ready for the next challenge—determined, focused, and not at all aware of how weird he looked.

Domina blinked. Then blinked again. This was not the “swimming” he’d imagined.

“I’m challenging the waves, Domina-kun. They're not even trying to keep up.”

Domina couldn't help but stare. Was Mash... actually enjoying this?

And then, just as Domina thought it couldn’t get any weirder, Mash made a dash for the dolphins nearby. He was racing a dolphin. Or, more accurately, trying to out-swim one.

Mash’s competitive spirit didn’t let up. He kicked harder, and swam faster, and after a few minutes, he popped up from the water. “I think I won.”

Domina’s jaw literally dropped. “You— What...?!”

“Well. If the dolphin didn’t stop, I would’ve kept going. But it did. So, I’m the winner.”

Domina, utterly speechless, could only blink at him as Mash floated contentedly in the sea. It was bizarre. It was absurd. It was Mash Burnedead being Mash Burnedead.

“I’m pretty sure you bonded with the dolphins more than with me,” He dropped a sweat, “I think I’ll take a nap, Mash-kun.”

Mash looked as the Walkis student walked far away from him.

< MISSION 1 WALKED AWAY! >

The next attempt at Mash was even more... Mash-like.

Second on his list was Delisaster. The Ames brothers had given Mash one simple piece of advice: Do not drag Delisaster into the kitchen. But they did mention that the blonde disaster did like parties, so Mash decided that a CREAMPUFF PARTY was the best way to bond with him.

Naturally, Mash didn’t exactly get the concept of parties. It wasn’t about food alone—it was about the atmosphere, the people, the energy. But to Mash, it was all about cream puffs.

So, there he was, preparing a mountain of them.

Delisaster walked in, taking in the sight of the absurdly stacked plates of cream puffs. “Uh… is this your second sorry attempt at ‘bonding,’ mushroom bro?” he asked, “But… uh, not really my vibe.”

“No problem,” Mash said. “I’ll make this party better.”

He then proceeded to dance. Or, more accurately, he began to flex his muscles. Every move was more awkward than the last. He struck ridiculous poses—JoJo-style, of course—fist thrusts into the air and dramatic leg lifts. His muscles flexed and rippled like a bizarre bodybuilder performance art piece.

Delisaster literally puked on the spot. He had no idea what he was witnessing, but whatever it was, he did not sign up to see his little brother flexing his muscles.

“This is how you do it, right?” Mash asked, posing dramatically in yet another over-the-top pose.

Delisaster’s smile faltered, his discomfort growing. He glanced around, not sure if there was an exit nearby.

“Uh, what kind of party is this?”

“It’s a creampuff party. The best kind.”

Delisaster, now thoroughly terrified, took a step back. “I—I think I need some fresh air,” he stammered. “I’ll just... go outside.”

“Cool. I’ll be waiting.” Mash nodded in satisfaction, completely missing the fact that his brother was fleeing.

Delisaster, not even glancing back, grabbed a single cream puff from the pile and rushed out. The cream puff, he thought, was the only reasonable thing to salvage from this nightmare.

Mash stood there, perfectly still as he watched Delisaster’s hasty retreat.

“Wait… Go outside? Isn’t Delisaster already outside?”

< MISSION 2 RAN AWAY WITH A CREAMPUFF! >

Third was Epidem. Mash had picked up on one key fact from Lance and Dot: Epidem really liked pudding. Mash thought, “We both have a sweet tooth, right? But honestly, creampuffs are better.”

He was determined to win over his brother with something they both enjoyed, so when Mash saw Epidem already making pudding in the kitchen, he took it as his cue to step in.

“Need any help?”

“Certainly. I am nearing the completion of this task.”

Mash looked at the bowl of pudding ingredients and immediately dove in.

“I got this,” he said confidently, grabbing the batter.

Epidem raised an eyebrow. "Are you quite certain? It is crucial that you follow the instructions carefully."

Mash nodded. “I’m a fast learner.” He poured the batter into the bowl, stirred it, and mixed it exactly how Epidem had instructed. He was ready for the pudding magic to happen.

"It is essential that the mixture appears smooth upon completion. This is of utmost importance."

Mash, feeling pretty proud of his progress, stared down at the bowl. There was a moment of silence. The batter wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t even batter at all. It was... a creampuff.

“Huh. That’s not right.”

“What’s not right?” Epidem asked, his eyes widening. “That should be pudding!”

“Yeah, but it looks like… a creampuff now.”

“Pudding, Mash. Pudding,” He repeated, trying to keep his calm. “Do it again. Follow the steps. Exactly.”

“Alright, alright, I got this. Let me try again.” Mash grabbed more batter, and this time, he was extra careful. He poured it, stirred it, and whisked it like a pro. But the moment he looked down, it happened again. More creampuffs.

“What in the world?” Epidem’s jaw dropped. “How is it that you are able to transform a pudding recipe into that of a creampuff? The task at hand is to prepare pudding, not whatever this is.”

Mash blinked. “I mean, isn’t this the same recipe?”

“That is not correct! The recipe explicitly calls for the sweet custard called a pudding.”

“But creampuffs are better,” Mash muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

He tried again. And again. And again. Each time, more creampuffs, no pudding.

Epidem had to teach him step-by-step in the end.

“First you do this.”

“Okay.”

“Then, you add this.”

“Okay.”

“Mix it up well.”

“Okay.”

“And last, add this.”

“Okay.”

Epidem began to panic. “How?! I explicitly watched it all the way through. How did it become a creampuff once more?!”

Mash just blinked innocently. “I’m getting déjà vu.”

After several more failed attempts, Epidem’s frustration reached its peak. His hands gripped the counter, and he slowly slumped down, his face landing softly on the pile of creampuffs that were now filling the entire counter.

Mash, still looking confused, stared at his brother. “You okay?”

Epidem didn’t move.

“Uh, maybe you should take a break?”

Nothing. Epidem was out cold.

Mash looked around at the creampuffs filling the open kitchen. He scratched the back of his head. “Well, at least they’re really good.”

< MISSION 3 FAINTED! >

Mash’s next target was Famin. The problem? No one really knew what Famin actually liked other than hamburgers, but he figured making those wouldn’t be a good idea considering what just happened with Famin.

Lance and Dot weren’t much help. “That guy creeps me out,” was Dot’s only input.

“He’s unsettling,” Lance agreed.

But Mash, in his usual Mash way, simply stared at Famin—his entire aesthetic, his eerie silence, his overall vibe—and concluded: the circus.

So, Mash marched over to Famin and, without a word, began to juggle. Or rather, he attempted to juggle. Instead of balls, he used boulders, casually tossing them high into the air. Each one crashed into the sand with a heavy THUD, shaking the ground.

Famin didn’t react, just watched with increasing confusion.

Undeterred, Mash moved on to his next act—tightrope walking. He tied a rope between two palm trees and confidently stepped onto it. The moment his foot touched the rope, however, his sheer strength obliterated it. The entire setup snapped apart instantly, sending pieces flying.

Famin blinked.

Mash, still not giving up, went for his grand finale: animal taming.

He gestured at a passing seagull. “Sit.”

The seagull did not sit.

“Roll over.”

The seagull screeched and flew away.

Then he pointed at a nearby crab. “Play dead.”

The crab pinched his ankle instead.

Mash nodded, satisfied. “Almost got it.”

Famin, however, had seen enough. He ran a hand down his face, “If this is your attempt at circus tricks, never do it again. You fucking disgust me.”

< MISSION 4 IS DISGUSTED AND LEFT! >

Mash’s final attempt at brotherly bonding led him to Doom.

He consulted Malta first. “He seemed really pumped during our lil’ competitions,” she said. “Maybe he’s into that.”

Mash nodded. Strength competition it was.

Unbeknownst to him, Doom actually wanted to hang out with Mash—more than with any of his other brothers. Unlike the others, he didn’t need to be won over. He already liked Mash. And what did he want to do? Make pancakes.

Unfortunately, Mash was Mash, and subtlety was not his strong suit.

Thus, when Doom walked up to him and said, “Let’s make—”

Mash immediately punched the ground.

The sheer force sent a shockwave rippling across the sand, knocking over a sunbathing Dot.

Doom blinked. “Mash.”

Mash was already lifting a boulder.

“I just want to—”

Mash crushed the boulder into dust with his bare hands.

“Listen. I want—”

Too late. Mash had already started doing one-handed push-ups—against himself. He rapidly alternated between arms, essentially racing his own muscles.

Doom pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no stopping this. He had two options: stand there and watch the madness unfold or participate.

Unfortunately for Doom, his competitive instincts kicked in before logic could.

And thus, Doom found himself dragged into an impromptu strength showdown that he had never signed up for. He and Mash lifted increasingly absurd objects—trees, pieces of the boardwalk, an entire beach umbrella stand. At one point, Doom deadlifted a boat straight out of the water. Mash, not to be outdone, casually balanced it on his pinky.

Throughout all this, Doom tried to communicate.

“Mash. Pancakes.”

Mash cartwheeled across the sand, leaving deep craters with each landing. “Yeah. Strength.”

“No. Pancakes.”

Mash backflipped, then proceeded to jog on air for no apparent reason. “Yeah. Good fight.”

Doom just stared at him, shoulders sagging. “…”

< MISSION 5 (SORT OF) SUCCESSFUL? >

After failing miserably at every single bonding attempt, Mash sat on the sand, deep in thought. Or at least as deep as Mash could get. His brothers, however, were not giving him a moment of peace.

Famin was still swearing about the “disgusting” circus act.

Epidem kept demanding that Mash restore his creampuffs back into pudding.

Delisaster grumbled about the creampuff confetti still littering the sand.

Domina just stood there, arms crossed, concerned for his brother.

And Doom? Doom was still sad about the pancakes.

One by one, they all ended up surrounding Mash, talking over each other.

“That so-called ‘circus performance’ has been permanently burned into my brain. I will never forgive you.” Famin scowled.

“My pudding…” Epidem lamented, “You ruined my pudding.”

“The sand reeks of cream, bro.” Delisaster flicked a stray creampuff chunk off his shoulder. "Yo, dude, you better clean that up before your OCD homie has a full-on meltdown!"

“Mash-kun, how about we do something else?” Domina suggested nicely.

Doom simply asked, “Can we make pancakes now?”

Mash, in the most Mash way possible, felt overwhelmed. His solution? He punched the palm tree next to him.

Unfortunately, the force sent a hanging light fixture plummeting down.

It landed right into Famin’s hands.

Famin, instinctually disgusted by whatever fate had just handed him, yeeted it toward Doom.

Doom caught it effortlessly before tossing it to Delisaster.

Delisaster, caught off guard, juggled it for a moment before flinging it toward Domina.

Domina smoothly passed it right back to Doom.

And Doom? Well, Doom trusted Epidem to catch it.

Big mistake.

Epidem, still dramatically mourning his pudding loss, didn’t even notice the lamp heading toward him. It hit the ground with a crack. They all stared at it.

Then, Delisaster flipped it over and read the tag. “…Uh. This belongs to Rayne Ames.”

A long pause.

The brothers all stared at the broken lamp like it was a crime scene.

Delisaster read the tag again, just to make sure. “…Yeah, this definitely says Rayne Ames.”

Then Domina sighed, “Yeah, no. We’re dead.”

“We should just tell him.” Doom, the only responsible one, crossed his arms.

“Oh, sure. And while we’re at it, why don’t we just hand him a sword and let him kill us?” Delisaster scoffed.

“I propose a countermeasure,” Epidem interjected, “We discreetly acquire an identical lamp and replace it before he notices.”

“Yeah? With what money?” Delisaster raised an eyebrow. “You got a lamp fund stashed somewhere, pudding man?”

Epidem looked away. “Irrelevant.”

“We should kill Rayne before he kills us,” Famin suggested calmly.

“Famin, shut the hell up.”

“No, think about it,” He grinned. “If he’s dead, we live.”

“You absolute dumbass,” Delisaster groaned. “Did you forget that we are literally cuffed and cannot use magic?”

“…Then Domina should do it,” Famin shrugged. “He’s not cuffed.”

Domina stared at him. “I’m not a murderer over a light.”

“You could be.”

“I won’t be.”

"I dunno, bro, but you’re giving off some serious bottled-up rage vibes."

Domina ignored the blonde and turned to Mash. “Do something about this.”

Mash, still sitting, simply nodded. “Okay.”

A pause.

Famin narrowed his eyes. “Okay, what?”

Mash just kept nodding. “Okay.”

Delisaster groaned. “God, he’s so weird—”

“Hypothetically,” Epidem intervened again, “if we were to flee—”

“We are not fleeing,” Domina cut him off. “Why is everyone acting like we killed a man? It’s just a lamp.”

“You do not understand Rayne, dude!” Delisaster gasped.

Epidem added, "You do possess the demeanor of one who might commit an act of violence over a mere lamp, considering you are an imbecile.”

“We are not killing anyone.” Doom sighed.

“I never said we were gonna kill him,” Famin said, grinning. “I’m just sayin’, if he dies—”

Doom threw his hands up. “I am surrounded by idiots.”

Meanwhile, Mash was still nodding. “Okay.”

Domina sighed, “Please, for the love of Father, just fix it.”

The brothers all turned to Mash expectantly. He just picked up the lamp, stared at it blankly, and said, “I’ll handle it.”

And that was somehow even more concerning.

Mash decided that brute force was the answer. With all the strength he could muster, he punched the broken part of the lamp. The metal bent and cracked, sending more shards flying into the sand. “There, fixed.”

“…That made it worse,” Domina deadpanned.

“No, it’s better, trust me.”

Epidem placed a small pot on the sand and began melting sugar. "I shall simply utilize this as an adhesive for the lamp."

“What the hell?” Delisaster blinked, watching as the pudding man tried to coat the lamp’s pieces in molten sugar. “Are you seriously doing that?”

“It will work, eventually.” Epidem said with unsettling confidence, despite the mess that was forming.

Meanwhile, Domina had taken it upon himself to “fix” the lamp with technology. He stood over it, tapping and clicking at the broken pieces like they were a malfunctioning computer.

“This should work,” he mumbled but quickly got frustrated when nothing happened. “Okay, maybe I don’t know how to fix lamps.”

In the background, Famin had somehow set a random pile of sand on fire.

Doom, meanwhile, had a much more practical solution. “If we really aren’t going to tell the truth to the Sword Cane, we should buy a new one as fast as possible.”

"That’d be sick if we weren’t all flat broke, big bro!"

And with that, all attempts at fixing the lamp came to a screeching halt. They stared at the increasingly mangled pieces in front of them, all at a loss.

Finally, they gave up. No one knew how to fix it. They just sat there in silence, looking at their combined failures.

That was when Finn and Lance appeared on the scene, coming over to see what the fuss was about.

Lance stared at the lamp, the broken scraps of metal and sugar gluing them together. “What… what happened? It was fixable before. Now it’s just…” He waved a hand in frustration. “A pile of junk.”

Rayne, appearing out of nowhere, surveyed the damage. “All of you are cleaning this beach together. That’s your punishment.”

Finn laughed it off, “It’s not that bad, just a bit of teamwork!”

The brothers groaned but slowly started picking up the mess they’d made earlier. If there was anyone they didn’t want to mess with, it’d be Rayne Ames if they still wanted to be alive. He had control over their bracelets after all.

Sand flew as they tried to clean up the creampuff confetti. Famin grumbled, “This is stupid.”

Delisaster sarcastically complained, “Yeah, we really nailed this ‘bonding’ thing, mushroom dude.”

Epidem muttered, “Perhaps eliminating Rayne was, in hindsight, the most judicious course of action.”

Domina rolled his eyes, “Shut up.”

Doom tried to lift a large pile of trash. He clearly saw this as some training or some sort.

Mash, standing to the side, watched them clean. He smiled. In his own weird way, he was successful. His brothers had all come together, even if it was just to complain and clean up his mess.

“Mash,” Rayne said as he handed him a broom, “You’re supposed to be cleaning too.”

Mash glanced at the broom, then back at Rayne.

“Oh.”

Chapter Text

SIBLING’S SHORE
|| CHAPTER THIRTEEN – BONUS! ||
| Citrus Irvine, Anna Crown and the Confession |

CITRUS paced back and forth along the beach, his heart felt like it was in his throat, pounding hard and fast, and he couldn’t figure out why.

Well, that wasn’t true—he could figure it out, but he didn’t want to admit it.

“Nee-san,” he finally blurted out, “Something’s wrong with me.”

Lemon lowered her oversized sunglasses, “Hmm. Symptoms?”

“My heart’s been acting weird. I get all hot out of nowhere. My stomach feels like it’s flipping around like crazy.”

She gasped, sat up straight, and dramatically placed a hand on his forehead. “Oh no, this is serious! You, my dear little brother, have a case of being in love.”

Citrus recoiled, “No way! That’s—that’s not—” He sputtered, turning pink.

“Textbook case. Heart swelling, weird stomach feelings—yep. You’re smitten~!”

“Nope. No. Wrong. Try again.”

“Denial is normal,” Lemon said, “Sooner or later, you’ll accept it.”

Citrus stomped away, muttering about his sister being an idiot. But as he walked, he can’t deny that she was right. He was sure of his feelings long ago. And—sort of—maybe—he wanted to confess.

Steeling himself, Citrus spotted Anna near the shoreline. He took a deep breath and started toward her—

But before he could take three steps, Lance suddenly appeared, grabbing Anna’s wrist. “Let’s go swim.”

Citrus stopped dead in his tracks, watching his chance disappear into the waves. He groaned. Great.

. . .

“Money,” Delisaster adviced, “Girls love money.”

Citrus blinked. “Huh?”

The blonde threw an arm around his shoulder. "If you’re gonna confess, bro, flash some cash. Get her something sick. Maybe a whole-ass yacht."

Domina interjected, “That’s stupid. Love isn’t something you can buy.”

“Oh, shut up, bubblegum bitch,” Delisaster huffed. "Let the little dude have some options."

Domina narrowed his eyes. "You're a brain-dead waste of space."

"You’re such a buzzkill!”

“You’re a waste of oxygen.”

“You’re a shithead who doesn’t know how to have fun!”

"You're a walking mistake.”

“You’re—”

Citrus walked away. That was terrible advice.

. . .

“What’s a good gift for… someone you like?” Citrus asked Dot and Lance as casually as possible.

Lance gave him a skeptical glance. “Who’s it for?”

Dot, who knew exactly who Citrus liked, panicked. If Lance found out, it’d be over for Citrus.

Without hesitation, the redhead grabbed a handful of sand and shoved it into Lance’s face. “OH WOOPS,” he shouted. “We better go to the ocean and get you cleaned up, Lance!”

Lance grumbled, “You’re dead.”

Dot cackled nervously and dragged him toward the water, saving Citrus from a siscon attack.

. . .

“Pancakes,” Doom said.

Citrus stared. “What?”

“If you’re going to confess, give her pancakes with blueberries and drizzled honey,” He elaborated.

Rayne, sitting nearby, sighed. “I don’t know. I’d say don’t follow Doom’s advice.”

Doom looked mildly offended. “Pancakes are the food of love.”

Citrus sighed and walked away.

. . .

“Creampuffs.”

Citrus groaned. “I’m not giving her creampuffs.”

Finn deadpanned, “I think Citrus here already made creampuffs for Anna.”

Mash ignored him. “Creampuffs are the best.”

Citrus left before Mash could start a lecture.

He then spotted Epidem and Famin talking to themselves.

He didn’t even stop. Nope. Not worth it.

. . .

Malta was the last hope.

She listened, nodded, then shrugged. “Just do what you do best. If you’re going to tell someone how you feel, just be yourself.”

Citrus hesitated. "But... what if being myself just means being an annoying jerk?"

"Then be the kind of 'yourself' that isn't a jerk." She laughed, “Though you’re not really a jerk, Citrus.”

"That sounds like I'm being someone else."

She snorted. "No, it means you’re thinking before you speak. And I’m pretty sure you always do that in front of Anna.”

That… was actually good advice.

. . .

Anna was seen talking to Kiwi when Citrus found her again. He swallowed hard and approached.

Kiwi’s head tingled. Sensing something, she quickly made an excuse. “U-Um! I’m thirsty! I’ll go get some water over there, um, be right back, Anna-chan!” She scurried off, leaving them alone.

Citrus’ face was red. He took a deep breath before shoving something in front of her. “Here.”

Anna blinked. It was a bouquet—a beautifully arranged one. At the center was a purple flower with five pointed petals and a small crown rising from the middle: a Crown Flower. It sat in a bed of laurel leaves, all wrapped in a delicate jade vine.

“For… me?”

“Y-Yeah, I guess…”

“Did you make it with your magic, Citrus-kun?”

He nodded aggressively.

“It’s… beautiful,” Anna said, eyes wide.

“I-It’s nothing special.”

The young Crown giggled. “It is special.”

Citrus took another deep breath, his hands shaking. “L-Look, I don’t—I don’t like you or anything, okay? But— but if I did, which I don’t, it’d be, like… a lot.”

Anna tilted her head. “Citrus—”

“And—and maybe I think you’re kinda—kinda great,” He went on, his face a full-on tomato. “A-And maybe I want to be around you more, and I want you to be happy, and maybe I want you to—”

Anna gently touched his hand, cutting off his panicked rambling. “Citrus-kun.”

He froze, eyes wide.

She smiled. “I like the flowers a lot. And… I like you too.”

Citrus’ brain short-circuited. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

He fumbled for words, utterly lost. “…Yeah. Okay, g-good…”

Anna laughed softly, holding the bouquet close. “But do you want to know why I like you?”

“Uh—w-wait, there’s a reason?”

She nodded. “You’re always so considerate. Even when you try to act cool or grumpy, you always make sure I’m not alone. You check if I’m okay, even when I don’t say anything. And… I think you’re the kindest person there is.”

Citrus stared at her like she’d just said the sky was green. “Me? Kindest…?”

“Yes, you! And… you’re pretty cool too.”

His heart nearly burst. He swallowed hard, gripping the hem of his shirt. “T-That’s—! I-I mean, obviously.”

“Obviously!”

Somewhere in the distance, Kiwi peeked out from behind a palm tree, panicking. “Anna-chan and nii-san are getting married…?”

Lemon, from her beach chair, nodded sagely. “I knew it.”

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER THIRTEEN ||
| Cell War and the Intrusive Sandstorm |

CELL stood at the doorstep, exhausted, as the customer—an angry Karen with a badly bleached bob—screamed in his face.

“This isn’t almond milk! Do I look like I drink regular milk?!”

“Ma’am, you ordered this.”

“I changed my mind! Fix it!”

He sighed, too drained to argue. Instead, he stared blankly as she ranted, waiting for the moment she got bored and slammed the door.

Finally, she huffed, snatched the milk, and did exactly that.

“God, I hate this job.”

Then, an owl landed directly on his head.

“…Seriously?”

The bird hooted, shoving a crumpled letter in his face. He snatched it, reading the contents.

Mash invited you to the beach! Your brothers would be there!

“Tch. ‘Your brothers.” He rolled his eyes in irritation. He hated his current life, but his past one was indeed worse.

He was a doormat, and still a doormat. Nothing changed.

He scowled. Then he noticed the date.

Four days ago.

He stared at the owl. The owl stared back.

“…You suck at your job,” he told it flatly.

He considered tossing the letter but paused. Another Karen tomorrow? Or the beach with the guy he wanted to kill but definitely couldn't?

“Fine. Whatever.”

Anything was better than this.

Cell War arrived at the beach—well, almost. He was still trudging through the dense forest before reaching the shore. The sunlight barely filtered through the thick canopy, but he wasn’t afraid. It was still afternoon, and nothing was threatening enough to bother him.

As he walked, he noted the mess. Branches were snapped, leaves scattered everywhere, and dirt patches were overturned as if something had crashed through.

He wrinkled his nose at the sight.

Then, a large, uneven hole—less like it had been dug and more like someone had launched themselves with such force that it left a crater. It didn’t look like the work of an animal. Too deep, too reckless.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if that stupid idiot Mash was responsible for this.”

Stepping forward, he suddenly felt a crunch under his boot. He lifted his foot to see squashed, dark purple berries smeared into the dirt.

“Poisonous.” His brows furrowed. “Someone must have eaten these.” He glanced around, half-expecting to see some poor fool writhing on the ground. But there was no one.

He shook his head and walked further—until his foot almost sank into the ground. He yanked himself back just in time to avoid stepping into what could only be quicksand.

Sand.

Oh god. Sand.

His stomach churned at the memory of a certain someone associated with sand. He gritted his teeth, forcing the thought out of his mind.

Not today. Not here.

Just as he was about to take a detour, the sand suddenly shot up toward his face. His instincts kicked in, and he dodged at the last second, barely avoiding a grainy assault on his eyes.

“The hell?!”

Perched atop a thick branch, looking down at him with a rigid expression, was none other than Orter Madl.

Cell War groaned. “Oh, great. The walking rulebook himself.”

Orter didn’t react to the insult, his cold gaze locked onto Cell War as if analyzing his every move. His presence alone felt suffocating, like judgment was being passed.

“Why are you here?” Orter asked.

Cell War dusted the sand off his shoulder, “Believe me, I ask myself that every damn day.” He held up the crumpled invitation letter. “Got this in the mail. Four days late, courtesy of an owl with no sense of direction.”

Orter didn’t seem amused.

He clicked his tongue, and a swirling sandstorm erupted around Cell, kicking up dust and blocking his view. The wind howled for a moment before settling, grains of sand trickling to the ground like falling embers.

Cell barely had time to process it before something cold snapped around his wrists—bracelets, the ones Rayne had made. He glanced down, but just as quickly as they appeared, they seemed to vanish into thin air.

Still, Cell could feel them there, lingering like an unseen weight.

“May I ask why I’m being cuffed?”

“Good, so you understand the nature of those bracelets. That means you’re also aware of the disruption caused by Mash Burnedead’s actions.”

Cell studied him carefully, “Ah, I see. You’re referring to the Devil Quintuplets’ free release, aren’t you?”

His tone was almost amused, but the Desert Cane did not like that one bit. Sassy little punks like him made his blood boil. Orter said nothing more.

Cell sighed, “I take it you’re not pleased.”

Orter’s gaze lingered on him, unimpressed by the absurd sight of him still wearing that stupid milkman outfit. A criminal like him, walking free, uncuffed—it was insulting. Disorderly. It went against everything Orter wanted to enforce.

But while that thought irritated him, Cell was hardly a real problem. Compared to Mash’s brothers, he was laughably easy to deal with.

Orter had already accepted Mash’s strength after the fall of Innocent Zero, but that victory came with a price. If Mash grew too attached to his brothers, things could spiral into chaos.

Anyone weaker than Famin posed no real threat. Doom, however, was an equation with no solution—Orter had already calculated that much. If disorder ever reached that level, the only viable countermeasure was Mash.

That was an unavoidable truth.

For now, his focus was on Cell. He curled his lip in disgust, but his mind was already working. As long as those cuffs were on, Cell’s magic was useless. That alone made things significantly easier.

Orter lifted his wand.

Cell flinched. “Wait, wait! Don’t shove sand in my butt again!”

Orter hadn’t intended that, but Cell’s fear was an advantage—one that streamlined the process. It wasn’t just about restraining him. It was about setting a plan into motion.

"Order isn’t a choice. It’s a necessity—and you’re going to play your part."

< • >

The sun blazed overhead, waves rolling in steady rhythms as the main group gathered for an impromptu surfing competition. The salty breeze carried the sounds of laughter, and crashing water as Malta, Doom, Dot, Lance, and Mash prepared to battle it out on the waves.

Malta smirked, resting her board under one arm, "What the hell are you doing here, Dot?"

Dot puffed his chest, "I challenged siscon here! Time to see who's the best between us once and for all!"

Lance rolled his eyes. "You irritate me. So once I prove to be better than you—which I already am—that'll shut you up."

"You're surprisingly talkative today, pretty boy!"

Before the banter could escalate, Doom stepped forward, his presence instantly felt. His towering frame cast a shadow over Malta as he cracked his neck.

"I challenge you."

"Heh, I thought you wouldn’t ask." Malta grinned.

Just as the match was about to start, Mash made his entrance in the most Mash-like way possible—by surfing in on a giant creampuff.

“Doom,” he called out, “Where are the extra creampuffs we baked yesterday?”

Malta blinked before remembering. “Oh, I put them in the cooler. I figured—”

Dot immediately cut her off, pointing dramatically. "Oi! Mash! I challenge you too!"

Delisaster and Lemon, comfortably seated on the beach with megaphones in hand, were in charge of narrating the event.

Lemon giggled, "Welcome, everyone, to the first-ever Siblings' Shore Surf Showdown!"

“Dude, that’s a mouthful,” Delisaster deadpanned at her before twirling his megaphone, "Ayy, let’s see what our dudes got cookin’! First up, we got the king of brooding himself, Lance Crown! What sick move’s he pullin’?"

Lance didn’t disappoint. Pushing off, he carved through the waves before launching himself into the air, twisting midair before landing back on his board with ease.

Rayne, who had been roped into tallying scores, gave a deadpan nod. "A solid 8/10."

Lemon clapped. "Ooooh, very strong start! But can Malta-san top it?"

Malta shot forward, catching the next wave with ease. She smoothly transitioned into a barrel ride, weaving inside the curl of the wave before shooting out with perfect balance. She sent a playful salute to the judges before smoothly paddling back.

Rayne marked her score. "A good 9/10."

Delisaster whistled. "Ohhh, things are heatin’ up! Doom, my big bro, whatcha bringin’ to the table?"

Doom stepped forward and simply launched himself into the water. In one swift motion, he performed a kickflip mid-wave, his surfboard spinning before he landed flawlessly.

Rayne lifted an eyebrow. "An impressive 9/10."

Delisaster threw an arm around Lemon, "Ayy, listen up, party people! We got two front-runners in the game! But hold up, here comes the legend himself, Mash Burnedead! And—wait, no way,” He almost puked again, “The dude’s still ridin’ that freakin’ creampuff…"

Everyone watched in stunned silence as Mash casually shredded the waves—except "shredded" was an understatement. Not only did he pull off tricks that defied physics, but he straight-up stopped the ocean with his bare hands.

To top it off, the water behind him twisted into the shape of a rabbit… for some reason.

Rayne sighed, writing down the inevitable. "1000/10."

"I won’t lose!" Dot paddled out, aiming for an epic backflip.

He got the height, the rotation was there… but his surfboard decided to abandon him mid-air, leaving Dot to land face-first into the water.

Delisaster cackled. "And we have our first wipeout! What do the judges say?"

Rayne didn’t hesitate. "-1/10."

Dot sputtered as he surfaced. "Oi oi oi! Let me try again! That was just a fluke! Really!"

The peanut gallery—Kiwi, Domina, Finn, Citrus, and Anna—were munching on snacks, watching the spectacle unfold.

Kiwi nibbled on a cookie, "That looked painful."

"He deserved it." Domina shrugged.

Finn shook his head. "Why does Dot-kun even try against Mash-kun and Lance-kun?"

"Maybe he just wants to have fun!" Anna said before offering Citrus a chip.

He grabbed the chip shyly and looked away, "Dot-san still looked lame."

Famin stood behind them, arms crossed, completely indifferent. "This is a waste of time."

Meanwhile, Dot crawled back onto shore, drenched, shivering, and glaring at his surfboard as if it had personally betrayed him. "I demand a rematch."

Lance smirked. "You’d just fail again."

Malta gave Dot a pat on the head. "Nice try, little bro. But surfing might not be your thing."

"That’s what you said about cooking. And fishing. And volleyball."

Doom offered him a towel. "You tried."

The redhead blinked up at him. "I don’t know whether that was an insult or encouragement."

Mash walked up, handing his friend a creampuff. "You want a consolation prize?"

Dot stared at it. "…Fine. But I’m still challenging you all again!"

Lemon beamed. "That’s the spirit!" She turned to Delisaster. "Well, that concludes the Surf Showdown! Our final rankings: Mash-kun in first place, Doom-san in second, Malta-san and Lance-kun tied for third, and Dot-kun... well..."

Delisaster snorted. "Man, that dumbass redhead's in a special category of his own. LMAO."

Dot groaned loudly, stuffing the creampuff in his mouth.

The chaos didn’t reach Famin’s thoughts though.

He stood apart from the others. This weird bunch—their laughter, their antics, their ridiculous way of enjoying life—he wouldn’t say he was attached, but he had started to tolerate them. Maybe even… like them.

But something inside him still felt incomplete. There was something he craved, something he needed to feel again. It gnawed at his insides, and left his existence feeling hollow, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

He wanted to feel that moment again.

The moment Orter Madl killed him.

Or at least, made him feel like he had.

Famin still remembered the suffocation, the unbearable sensation of being crushed, his very life slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. It was terrifying, agonizing—and perfect.

He had never felt so real, so utterly consumed by the sensation of death closing in around him. No pain had ever been so complete. No experience had ever been so… satisfying.

And he wanted it again.

His breath hitched as his gaze lifted from the beach sand, and his golden eyes locked onto a figure standing at a distance.

Orter Madl.

Flesh and blood.

Famin's pupils dilated as his heartbeat quickened—not with fear, not with anger, but with something far more twisted. Excitement.

His entire body vibrated with anticipation.

He didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate.

His body moved on instinct, launching forward, a mad grin splitting his face.

“ORTER!” he howled in his mind, lunging straight at him. “I WANNA DIE BY YOUR HANDS AGAIN!”

The thrill surged through him, the anticipation of that suffocating sensation, the perfect pain—

But just before he could reach him, water slammed against his body like an unbreakable wall, knocking him back. The force sent him skidding across the sand.

The world snapped back into focus.

The cheering from the surfing competition. The sounds of the waves. The people around him. And a voice—a voice that shouldn’t have known, shouldn’t have been able to react—calling out in desperation.

“Domina-san!”

Famin’s head jerked towards the source. Kiwi stood there, her small frame tense, golden eyes wide.

She knew. Kiwi knew. This little runt?

Somehow, she had known what Famin was going to do before he even moved. It wasn’t chance. It wasn’t luck. It was like she had plucked the thought straight from his mind.

And then, realization struck him like a punch to the gut.

The water restraint. Domina.

He snapped his gaze back toward Orter—except it wasn’t Orter at all.

The thrill in his veins vanished instantly.

It was Cell War…?

He had been deceived?

The hollow craving in his chest twisted into something else entirely.

Something ugly. Something like rage.

Kiwi shivered.

That's when everyone finally noticed the chaos unfolding right behind them. Seeing two familiar silhouettes standing in the front.

The real Orter Madl stepped forward, "Mash Burnedead, your brothers have violated the law by attacking a civilian—Cell War. Though Domina Blowelive intervened before any physical harm was inflicted, the psychological damage upon the victim is undeniable. The bracelets have failed in their duty, Rayne Ames. Order must be maintained."

"Oh, come on!" Delisaster threw up his hands, “Dude, you fuckin' disguised him as you! Are you tryna gaslight us or somethin'? What kinda sick game are you playin' here?”

Epidem adjusted his glasses, "If anything, this is entrapment. Hardly a fair trial when you manipulate the variables in your favor."

"We were provoked," Domina stated coldly, "Famin thought he saw you. He reacted."

Famin’s wild grin had frozen the moment the illusion shattered. His eyes dimmed as realization set in. His breathing steadied, but his shoulders sagged.

“Tch, So it was just you, huh?" His tongue ran over his teeth as if trying to chase the thrill that had just slipped through his fingers.

He looked at the water restraints, the bracelet and then to Orter, "I really thought I’d get to feel it again."

Doom remained silent, his massive frame tense. He hadn’t said a word since the Desert Cane appeared.

"Orter-san… what are you doing?" Lance’s voice was cautious, like he was struggling to understand rather than outright condemn.

Dot, for once, was also hesitant. "Uh, yeah… This doesn’t seem like you. You’re not the type to throw around arrests without a solid reason."

"A reason has been given. They broke the law."

Rayne spoke up. "Orter-san, I know you value the law, but this doesn’t make any sense. I’ve been on guard here for the past few days, and the brothers have done nothing harmful. Cell War isn’t some helpless victim either—you know that. Why are you treating this like it’s black and white?"

"Are you trying to defend criminals, Rayne?"

“…I’m not.”

"Then are you saying the law should be ignored when it’s inconvenient?"

Rayne exhaled sharply, "I’m saying is that you can’t just—"

"I can." Orter interrupted, "Cell War is a registered civilian who's criminal history has been lifted thanks to his cooperation during Innocent Zero's attack. He's nothing more than a mere milkman. Attacking him is a direct violation of the very rules you imposed on Mash Burnedead’s brothers."

Silence. Mash still hadn’t said anything, but the look in his eyes remained the same.

Orter’s gaze shifted. His eyes landed on Kiwi, who had been clinging to Anna’s side, her tiny hands curled into fists. Finn stood protectively in front of the younger kids.

"You have mind-reading magic, correct?" He asked, "Can you confirm to me if Famin here felt bloodlust at the moment?"

Kiwi’s breath hitched. Everyone turned to her, waiting for an answer.

But she didn’t speak.

She couldn’t.

Her heart pounded. She had seen Famin’s mind, felt the twisted craving that had consumed him in that moment. He wanted to feel death. 

She doesn’t know much about the Desert Cane but… “Telling him anything would put Domina-san in danger…!”

The silence stretched, but Orter didn’t press further. Instead, he turned back to the accused. "Domina Blowelive. Epidem. Delisaster. Famin. Doom."

"You five are hereby placed under arrest."

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER FOURTEEN ||
| Famin and the Madls |

FAMIN’S eyes burned onto Orter’s gaze. The man’s rigid posture, the cold authority in his eyes—it all boiled inside of Famin, a slow burn that made his muscles tighten.

The tension in the air was thick enough to suffocate. Orter had spoken—had just declared the arrest of the brothers, had said the law was clear, and now it hung in the air like an accusation.

The urge to act boiled inside of him. He wanted to do something. He wanted to knock Orter down, to disrupt that damn authority, to see that calm demeanor break.

The law? The rules? Famin didn’t care for them. Never had. All that mattered was action, was chaos, was the feeling of making something happen. Then maybe Orter could kill him again.

As Famin’s body coiled, ready to spring, something stopped him. Something twisted in his gut.

His eyes flickered to the group. They were there—Malta, Doom, Dot, everyone—watching. They were confused yet angry. Mash’s eyes were fixed on Orter, but he said nothing.

Famin could feel the subtle shift inside him. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was there, gnawing at him. This moment, right here, right now, wasn’t about his anger. It wasn’t about the punch he wanted to land so that Orter could kill him.

It wasn’t… about that?

His fists slowly uncurled, but the rage didn’t go away. No, it simmered beneath the surface, just as hungry as before. But now, there was a different hunger—a craving that hadn’t been there before.

It wasn’t for death. It wasn’t for violence. It was something… something he didn’t know how to handle. Something that pulled him in, but didn’t let him have his precious death.

He looked at them again. They were standing there, unsure of what to do. They were waiting for something. For the situation to break, for someone to step in. They weren’t like Orter. They weren’t going to arrest him. To kill him. They weren’t there to impose control. They were just… there.

And Famin didn’t know what to do with that.

He had never been one for connections, for belonging. He had always been selfish—always wanting everything, and yet, wanting nothing. He’d lived in that emptiness for as long as he could remember.

But now, there’s something in the emptiness. Something unfamiliar. A strange, almost painful sensation that told him this moment, this conflict, couldn’t be solved with violence.

His gaze flickered back to Orter. The man was still speaking, still asserting his control, but now Famin saw him differently. It wasn’t the man who could bring death to him that caused this… new feeling.

This wasn’t about death anymore.

He didn’t want this feeling. He didn’t want to acknowledge it. But it was there, impossible to ignore.

The group—his brothers, the others—had become something. They were something in the emptiness, they were something he couldn’t just throw away. Not as easily as he had discarded everything else. Not like the things he had crushed beneath his heel.

What the hell? Why? It was just a few games of volleyball with these idiots. Just some dumb “scary” stories he barely listened to. Just a shared hut for the night. Just ate some burgers they cooked especially for him. Just a pointless beach cleanup over a stupid broken light.

Why did those make him feel like this?

The hunger for violence was still there, still aching beneath his skin. But the pull of something else—a sense of belonging, a sense of being wanted, something he couldn’t possess—clashed with it.

He didn’t know how to deal with this feeling. Didn’t know how to push it down or bury it. He was used to control. Used to being the one who took what he wanted and tossed it aside when it didn’t satisfy him anymore.

But now, standing here, watching Orter’s cold gaze, he realized—he didn’t want to throw this away. Not yet.

The thought was dizzying. Confusing. It made his anger burn hotter. What was wrong with him?

He wanted to stay with the familiar hunger for death. But it was too strong. Too new. He didn’t know how to make sense of it.

Famin took a step forward, but as his gaze met Orter once more, the hunger for death no longer felt enough. There was something he craved even more.

And that… confused him more than anything.

“The handling of these brothers will be under my jurisdiction,” Orter declared, “Not Rayne’s.”

Rayne’s head snapped up. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

Even Dot, who usually had something to say about everything, was at a loss. His mouth opened, then closed.

“Orter-san,” Lance frowned, “Can you at least explain.”

The others stirred, unsettled. Malta crossed her arms, glancing at Doom, who remained eerily silent. Finn shot a worried look at Delisaster while holding the three younger kids, who, in turn, anxiously watched Domina. Even Anna, usually optimistic, couldn't hide her concern for Epidem.

Orter didn’t falter. “They will be dealt with in the Bureau.”

Before anyone could react, the ground trembled.

The sands rose.

Golden grains surged upward and in an instant, they wrapped around Mash’s brothers. The moment was suffocating, silent but deafening.

Famin barely had time to process before the grains constricted around him. He thrashed on instinct, but it was pointless. The sand was swallowing them—swallowing him whole.

The moment it took hold, his greed vanished. Now that he had it, he didn’t want it anymore.

And then—

They were gone.

The world settled. The wind carried away the last stray grains, and the space where the brothers had stood now empty.

The ones left behind stood frozen, staring at the spot where they had been just seconds ago.

Delisaster’s absence felt the loudest.

Domina’s absence felt the heaviest.

Doom’s absence felt the strangest.

Epidem’s absence felt nice though.

Famin’s absence… felt similar to when he was here.

Mash groaned.

A slow, weary, so-done kind of groan.

“…Ugh.”

It wasn’t a yell, not a scream, not even a shout of frustration. Just a long, exhausted groan. As if he had just witnessed the most inconvenient thing imaginable.

Malta blinked. “…What the hell just happened?”

“Yeah,” Dot muttered weakly, “…Did they just…?”

Lemon finally spoke. “They’re… gone?”

Orter, meanwhile, simply turned on his heel, as if he had done nothing unusual, as if the moment was just another task to complete.

Rayne clicked his tongue, “Orter, we’re not done talking.”

“Yes, we are.” He said, “See to it that you do not interfere.” Then, without another word, he vanished.

Silence lingered. The wind carried the last traces of golden dust away, but the weight of what had just happened refused to settle.

Rayne mumbled, “I respect Orter-san. He’s one of the most capable Divine Visionaries out there. But sometimes…” He trailed off, “Sometimes, he takes things too far.”

Dot turned to him, “Yeah? He just arrested them, man! Like, why’d he do that out of the blue?!”

“He didn’t even tell us why.” Lance crossed his arms, “What did he see? What reason does he have to arrest them?”

The kids huddled closer together, glancing between the older siblings with unease. Citrus groaned, “Tch. This sucks.”

Kiwi anxiously looked up, “Is Domina-san… going to be okay?”

Anna frowned, “I hope so. He was quiet today, but wasn’t a bad person!”

The group exchanged glances. No one quite knew what to say to that.

Malta let out a low whistle, “Y’know… I’d be more pissed if I wasn’t so confused.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Doom, Domina, Famin, even Epidem… They didn’t even try to fight back. Those guys have definitely changed if they just let themselves get taken in like that.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Lance muttered.

“Never said it did. Just sayin’ it’s weird.”

But despite their confusion, their frustration—Mash was still their biggest concern. They all turned to him, watching, waiting for some kind of reaction. Anger? Frustration? Maybe even sadness?

Instead, Mash simply dusted some sand off his shoulder and said, “We gotta go get ’em.”

Everyone blinked.

Dot paused. “Okay, but, uh… that’s it? No big speech? No ‘how dare he arrest my brothers’ moment?”

Mash shrugged. “They got taken. We get them back.”

It was so Mash of him that for a second, no one knew how to argue with it.

And in the end, they didn’t.

“…Yeah,” Rayne nodded, “We do.”

Finn nodded along with his brother, “We better take them back!”

“First things first,” Lance said, “We need a plan.”

Malta nodded. “And we need to figure out why the Desert Cane arrested them in the first place.”

Mash tilted his head. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Everyone replied at once.

“Oh... Okay.”

Citrus groaned. “This guy…”

The group huddled together. At some point—between the chaos, the nonsense, the constant back-and-forth—they had gotten attached to Mash’s brothers.

The realization hit all at once.

When had that happened? When had Delisaster—loud, obnoxious, and always pushing drinks on people—become someone Finn and Rayne worried about? When had Domina—cold, distant, and downright mean—become someone they wanted to protect? When had Doom, of all people, become someone they couldn’t imagine losing?

Even Epidem… well. They had mixed feelings about Epidem. But he was a part of it now.

And Famin? Well, he’s another weirdo.

The thought was ridiculous. None of them had planned to care this much. But now? Now there was no way they were letting anything happen to those guys.

Rayne clicked his tongue. “Tch. I hate to admit it, but we can’t just let this slide.”

Lance nodded. “Of course not.”

Dot groaned, “Ugh, how did we end up caring this much? This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

Malta smirked. “Hate to break it to ya, but it did.”

Kiwi nodded shyly. “We have to help them.”

“Yeah! We’re family now, right?” Anna smiled at Citrus.

The young boy scoffed, cheeks slightly pink. “Whatever. I just don’t like that sand guy either!”

Mash gave them a thumbs up, “Then let’s go get ’em.”

< • >

The research chamber was quiet, save for the faint hum of magical tools running in the background. Orter stood as he observed the bound brothers in front of him. Across from him, Wirth Madl adjusted his gloves.

The bracelets glowed faintly around Doom, Delisaster, Domina, Famin, and Epidem’s wrists. Their magic was still suppressed, yet none of them seemed particularly panicked. If anything, they looked... annoyed.

Wirth blinked, glancing from the brothers to Orter. “You actually went through with it...”

Orter didn't respond.

“Arresting all of them, just like that,” Wirth continued, “Not even a warning. Not even an explanation. You’re insane.”

Orter still didn’t acknowledge the comment. Instead, he turned to the schematics laid out on the table. “Can you tighten the restrictions on the bracelets?”

Wirth frowned. He folded his arms. “They’re already at their limit. Anything more and you risk—”

“I don’t take risks.”

The cold certainty in Orter’s voice made the room feel even heavier. But Wirth only sighed, shaking his head. He wasn’t about to argue with Orter’s efficiency complex.

As he turned to his notes, his brother spoke again.

“If you could remove Rayne’s access to the bracelets.”

Silence.

Wirth stopped writing. Slowly, he looked up. His emerald eyes studied Orter carefully, as if waiting for him to say it was a joke. Or a mistake.

But Orter’s expression didn’t waver.

“…I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Wirth leaned back, pressing his fingers together. “Rayne is the one who granted me access to the Magical Tool Administration in the first place,” he reminded, “That means I have an obligation to follow his authority, not yours.”

“If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have been able to make those bracelets under a short internship with Tsurara-san,” He then spat, “Besides, why would I help you? Just because we’re brothers?”

Orter said nothing.

Wirth let out a quiet laugh. He tapped the table, turning back to the schematics. “If you want to lock them up and throw away the key, that’s on you. But don’t drag me into this.”

The tension in the room settled into something unspoken, but heavy nonetheless.

And for the first time since their capture, Delisaster snickered under his breath. “Yikes,” he muttered. “Looks like even your family thinks you’re going too far, sand dude.”

Orter’s eye twitched.

“Bend down.”

The command was absolute.

Delisaster barely had time to process before a ruthless, precise strike slammed into his stomach. His entire body lurched forward as the air was forced out of his lungs.

The other brothers barely reacted—Delisaster always ran his mouth. But even Famin quirked a brow, watching his brother struggle to regain his breath. Wait, is he concerned about Delisaster?

The blonde one smirked, “Damn, being magicless sucks.”

Wirth, on the other hand, flinched. His gaze darted from Delisaster, coughing and clutching his stomach, to Orter, who remained unfazed, already turning back to his papers as if nothing had happened.

“…Was that necessary?” Wirth muttered.

He didn’t spare him a glance. “He’ll live.”

Delisaster, still wheezing, let out a weak laugh. “Damn… guess I touched a nerve, huh?”

Orter didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The message was clear.

Shut up. Stay in line.

But Delisaster? He was never one to follow rules.

Even hunched over in pain, he still smirked. “Man, you really need to get laid or somethin’.”

Wirth looked at them first, he disliked how Orter was handling this situation. In all honesty, he shouldn’t even be handling this anyway!

He cleared his throat, “Anyways, you never did answer me. Why are you doing this? Why’re you so focused on bringing ‘em back to prison?"

"Because order must be upheld."

"Order. Rules. Laws," Wirth listed off with a scoff. "Are those really all that matter to you? Are you really doing all this just for the sake of control?" He paused. "Or is it something else?"

Orter’s hands stilled.

"You see them, don’t you?" His tone was almost mocking, "Those criminals. Those rejects. They argue, fight, and somehow still—still manage to be brothers."

Silence.

Wirth tilted his head, watching his brother’s unmoving back. "Are you really just upholding order? Or does it get under your skin that ‘disgusting criminals’ like them have something we don’t?"

His posture, usually so composed, stiffened at Wirth’s words. For a brief moment, his head inclined as if considering a response—but then, just as quickly, he shut it down.

Without turning around, Orter stood up, "I'll be taking my leave."

And just like that, he just left. But Wirth knew it. He can tell.

This wasn’t about rules. Wasn’t about order. If it was, Orter wouldn’t have ignored his question so blatantly. He wouldn’t have walked away.

Orter had always been good at following the law, but Wirth knew better than anyone—this was personal.

Watching Orter walk away always left a familiar feeling in his chest though. No matter how much time passed, no matter what they said to each other, it always felt like they were speaking different languages.

Wirth let out a quiet sigh and pulled out his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen for a second before he pressed the call button.

“Wirth, why are you calling?”

“Rayne. I think we have a problem.”

There was a pause. Then Rayne sighed. “I think I know what it is…”

“Yeah? Well, you better hurry.”

Chapter Text

SIBLINGS’ SHORE
|| CHAPTER FIFTEEN ||
| Siblings and Cheesy Words |

THE air inside the Bureau’s grand courtroom was suffocating. Heavy chandeliers cast a cold, sterile glow over the towering marble pillars, their presence looming like silent judges. The room itself felt more like a cage than a place of justice—ornate, polished, yet mercilessly indifferent to those who stood trial.

And at the center of it all, presiding over the proceedings, was the prosecutor, Orter Madl. Walhberg Baigan, and the judge, Bless Minister.

“Considering the evidence,” Orter’s voice rang out, “it is undeniable that your so-called ‘siblings’ have committed severe offenses.”

The assembled group bristled. 

Wirth stood stiffly beside Finn, arms crossed. Finn, on the other hand, looked like a man who had just realized he was on trial, scanning the crowd with barely contained panic.

Around them, the accused siblings watched, some tense, some defiant. And yet, Orter’s expression left no room for doubt.

He adjusted his cuffs, his movements precise, practiced.

“Exhibit A—Domina Blowelive attempted to drown Citrus Irvine with his water magic.”

Gasps. Citrus tensed. Kiwi’s fingers curled into her dress. Lemon gritted her teeth. Domina looked down.

“Exhibit B—Delisaster deliberately introduced poison into the Ames brothers’ food.”

Delisaster scoffed. “Okay, hold on, what?!”

“Exhibit C—Epidem forced Anna Crown to ingest charcoal. A clear attempt at poisoning.”

Lance didn’t even look up. If anything, he looked vaguely surprised. Epidem merely adjusted his tie.

“Exhibit D—Doom made a direct attempt on Dot Barrett’s life during a volleyball match.”

Dot’s breath hitched in disbelief. “He did not just see it like that…”

“And finally—Exhibit E.” Orter’s tone sharpened, like a blade pressing against the throat of the conversation. “Famin assaulted a civilian, Cell War.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

And then—Walhberg chuckled. Soft. Amused. The sound sent an uneasy ripple through the group.

Orter didn’t so much as blink. “Each of these incidents is a direct threat to those around you. If left unchecked, they will escalate.” His gaze swept over them, judging, weighing, sentencing.

“Tell me—how do you plead?”

The silence stretched.

Finn slowly raised a hand. “Uhm… First off, we didn’t know this was a trial?”

“That is irrelevant.”

Wirth let out a slow sigh. “You really haven’t changed.”

Orter didn’t so much as acknowledge him. His focus was singular. Absolute.

“Let’s begin.”

Malta suddenly stood, crossing his arms. “Hold up. You really dragged them in here without lawyers? That’s insane.”

“They are spawns of Innocent Zero. They do not need lawyers,” Orter confirmed, “The same has happened for Mash Burnedead in the past.”

“Huh,” A slow grin spread across Malta’s face. “Then I’ll be Doom’s advocate.”

Rayne didn’t hesitate either. “I will act in Delisaster’s defense.”

Lance didn’t want to be involved, but when Anna tugged his shirt, he had to do it. He spoke up, “I will defend Epidem.”

Lemon stomped a foot. “Then I’ll be Domina-kun’s advocate!”

Mash nodded. “Guess that makes me Famin’s.”

A long pause followed. Orter stared at them, as if assessing whether this entire situation was spiraling out of control.

Walhberg chuckled again. “Seems fair to me.”

The Bless Minister folded his hands. “Very well. The court shall recognize these advocates.”

Orter sighed, clearly not liking the outcome. “…Fine. We proceed.”

And with that, the most ridiculous trial in Bureau history officially began.

╭ ─────── ° ∘ ❉∘ ° ─────── ╮

EXHIBIT A
NAME: Domina Blowelive
STATUS: Defendant
ADVOCATE: Lemon Irvine
VICTIM: Citrus Irvine

⤀  CHARGES FILED  ⬳
Count 1: Reckless Endangerment
Allegedly created dangerously strong waves, nearly causing Citrus Irvine to drown.
Claims it was an "accident" and was panicking the entire time.

Count 2: Attempted Murder
Prosecution argues that the sheer force of the waves and Domina’s lack of immediate intervention suggest intent to harm.
Defense counters with mind-reading testimony confirming Domina's panic.

⤀  DEFENDANT STATS  ⬳
CONVICTION RESISTANCE: ★★★★☆
EMOTIONAL RESPONSE: ★☆☆☆☆
WILL TO DEFEND HIMSELF: ★☆☆☆☆

⤀  PLEA  ⬳
“Not Guilty.”

╰ ─────── ° ∘ ❉∘ ° ─────── ╯

The courtroom was tense. Domina stood motionless, half-lidded eyes betraying nothing.

At the judge’s podium, the Bless Minister sat with  hands folded neatly. His presence alone was enough to keep the tension taut.

Orter Madl stood at the prosecution’s bench, cold, methodical, and so convinced of his own righteousness that Domina briefly considered dragging him into the ocean and holding him under until he stopped talking. The thought barely had time to settle before his fingers twitched at his sides, irritation creeping up his spine. He wasn’t actually going to do it, but—Gods, he wanted to.

Beside him, Kiwi fidgeted. He could practically hear the anxious buzz of her thoughts. What do I do? What do I say? Domina-san isn’t good with words. 

He blinked.

Kiwi was weak, hesitant—but she was trying.

A pause. 

Right. He wasn’t supposed to think scary things like that. Kiwi could read them.

The Bless Minister finally spoke. “The prosecution may proceed.”

Orter stepped forward, placing a video crystal on the evidence table. “Domina conjured waves strong enough to almost drown Citrus Irvine,” he stated. The crystal projected the memory, displaying a scene of Citrus flailing amidst towering waves. A reckless use of magic that could have led to serious injury.”

“He fucking recorded us since day one?” Domina muttered.

The Bless Minister did not react, his neutral gaze betraying no emotion.

“I’M ALIVE, AIN’T I?!” Citrus suddenly yelled from the gallery.

“Attempted murder does not require success to be incriminating.”

Then, Kiwi—small, hesitant Kiwi—spoke up. “Wait, but… I read Domina-san’s mind when it happened! He was panicking the whole time! He’s just as concerned…”

Orter adjusted his cuffs. “Panic is an admission of guilt. If he panicked, it means he realized he’d done something wrong.”

The Bless Minister inclined his head slightly, considering the argument.

That was it.

Something in Domina snapped. His irritation boiled over into something sharper, something colder. It was like the ocean before a storm.

“Hmm… I think we’re all missing something important here though!” Lemon stepped forward, tilting her head with a carefree smile. This stopped the pink-haired from snapping.

The Bless Minister’s gaze shifted to her. “You may present your testimony.”

Orter exhaled through his nose. “And what, exactly, would that be?”

“Me!~” She beamed.

A pause. The courtroom held its breath.

The Bless Minister waited.

Orter’s brow twitched. “That is not—”

“I asked Domina-kun to make the waves stronger,” Lemon continued, cheerfully undeterred. “So really, I should be the one on trial, right?”

“That does not absolve him of reckless behavior.”

She hummed, tapping her chin. “Oh, sure! But Domina-kun isn’t exactly the responsible type. He’s more of a ‘go with the flow’ kinda guy. Like the ocean! And the ocean can’t commit crimes, Orter-sama.”

Orter’s fingers tapped against his notes, slow and deliberate.

Lemon clasped her hands together. “And if we’re talking evidence!~ Kiwi-chan read Domina-kun’s mind! So we know for a fact that he wasn’t trying to hurt anyone! That’s, like, super-duper solid proof, right?”

Kiwi stiffened but nodded rapidly. “I-It’s true! He was panicking the whole time—he kept thinking about how he didn’t mean for it to get that bad!”

The judge spoke, "The young girl before us may be unduly influenced by Domina’s circumstances. Given the situation, I cannot, in good conscience, uphold her testimony."

Lemon pouted at first, seeing as her defense surprisingly had hole. She pondered for a moment, before continuing, “Well, then, if panic means guilt… doesn’t that mean he’s guilty of caring too much?”

The Bless Minister’s expression remained unreadable, but the weight in the room subtly shifted.

Lemon wasn’t done. “And speaking of guilt! You were watching us, weren’t you?”

Silence.

“You filming us is already proof of that, so!” She tipped his chin, “If Domina-kun is guilty for not realizing the waves were dangerous until Citrus-kun went under… then what about you? You saw everything and still waited until after it happened, not even trying to step in. That's not a very good example of being a Divine Visionary, is it?" She grinned, "If noticing something too late makes you guilty, then wow! That’s a lot of guilt to go around, huh?”

A muscle in Orter’s jaw twitched. His fingers curled ever so slightly.

Then, at last, the Bless Minister raised his hand. The courtroom stilled.

“…The circumstances do not meet the threshold for criminal negligence,” he declared, “The charges are dismissed.”

A sharp rap of his ceremonial staff against the ground sealed the verdict.

Domina let out a slow breath, shoulders easing. Kiwi’s grip on his hand tightened slightly. He hadn’t even realized she was still holding it.

For a moment, he considered letting go.

He didn’t.

╭─────── °∘.☘︎ ܁˖∘° ──────╮

EXHIBIT B
NAME: Delisaster
STATUS: Defendant
ADVOCATE: Rayne Ames
VICTIM: Finn Ames

⤀  CHARGES FILED  ⬳
Count 1: Attempted Poisoning of Multiple Individuals
Allegedly laced the food with a potent substance that led to a series of violent stomach reactions among the Ames brothers.
Claims it was “unintentional” due to the use of expired ingredients in his cooking.

Count 2: Unauthorized Distribution of Hazardous Materials
Accused of providing “questionable” food products to individuals without warning or proper labeling in a public creampuff party.

⤀  DEFENDANT STATS  ⬳
CONVICTION RESISTANCE: ★★★★★
EMOTIONAL RESPONSE: ★★★★★
WILL TO DEFEND HIMSELF: ★★★★★

⤀  PLEA  ⬳
"Not guilty, dude! How was I supposed to know my cookin’ is gonna get me to jail? I mean, c’mon, I was just trying to spice things up!”

╰─────── °∘.☘︎ ܁˖∘° ──────╯

Orter flipped through his papers and began in an even tone, “The accused, Delisaster, stands charged with reckless endangerment via distribution of hazardous consumables, resulting in severe gastrointestinal distress among multiple individuals, including but not limited to Finn Ames.”

Delisaster slouched in his seat, legs kicked up on the bar in front of him, chewing gum with the confidence of a man who had committed zero crimes in his life—at least, none that could actually get him arrested.

“Man, this is dumb. I didn’t poison anyone.”

“Yeah, he didn’t,” Finn, bless his tiny, trusting heart, nodded immediately. “Why am I the victim here… I’m on Delisaster’s side…”

The Bless Minister turned to Orter, who calmly flipped through the papers in his hand.

“Are you denying that after eating his food, you became violently ill?” Orter asked.

Finn coughed. “Okay, well, yes. But that’s not poisoning, that’s just bad cooking.”

The Bless Minister let out the faintest hum of consideration.

Delisaster blinked. Wait. Wait. Back up. Finn was—was defending him?

He sat up just a little, glancing at Finn out of the corner of his eye. The guy didn’t even look like he was struggling to back him up. No nervous sweating, no stammering, no bargaining with Orter for his life. Just straight-up yeah, Delisaster didn’t do it.

Delisaster had never felt more seen.

“He... is an awful cook,” Rayne said flatly, “It was a risk we all willingly took.”

The blonde disaster’s brain short-circuited. His heart did something stupid.

“That was…” He swallowed thickly. “The nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

And there it was. The universe righting itself. The natural balance restored. For a second there, Delisaster had almost thought that Rayne respected him or something. He wasn’t sure if his heart could take that kind of emotional whiplash.

The Bless Minister turned back to Orter. “The prosecution may continue.”

"Even if the intent wasn’t malicious, the outcome was still harmful. If a doctor prescribes the wrong medicine by mistake, the patient still suffers. You wouldn’t blame the medicine—you’d hold the doctor accountable, wouldn’t you?"

"Well, um..." Finn raised his hand slightly. “The food wasn't that harmful... or maybe we built immunity…?”

Delisaster almost choked. Is it because these two had been eating off the streets as kids?

This was unreal. This was some next-level sitcom loyalty though.

He half-expected these guys to have just let him get cuffed for good… but they didn’t. They defended him. Like this was normal. Like backing up Delisaster was normal.

Orter’s expression flattened. “…That is not a defense.”

“Yeah, but it’s true,” Finn said.

Rayne sighed, turning his gaze to the Bless Minister. “Your Honor, Orter is the Desert Cane. He’s supposed to deal with important things.”

The Bless Minister’s expression remained unreadable, but he did not interrupt.

Orter frowned. “This is important. A student was harmed—”

“No, a student made a bad decision,” Rayne corrected. “Me and my brother chose to eat the food. If we start calling every meal that makes someone sick a crime, we’d have to arrest half the cafeteria staff.”

Delisaster stifled a laugh. “Who knew Rayne had a sense of humor.”

Orter’s fingers twitched like he was resisting the urge to strangle someone.

“…That’s not relevant.”

Rayne raised a brow. “Isn’t it? This is a trial. What matters is precedent. If you convict Delisaster for bad cooking, you’ll have to start going after every terrible chef in that logic.”

The Bless Minister tilted his head slightly, as though weighing the argument.

Rayne exhaled sharply. “Orter. You are the Desert Cane. Your duty is to regulate and oversee the strength of this institution’s elite. Are you truly prepared to report to the Bureau that you spent your time prosecuting a case of culinary incompetence?”

“…This was not mere incompetence. It resulted in harm.”

“Harm, yes. But was it criminal intent?” The Sword Cane gestured, “He never intended to cause distress. He was simply unskilled, as is his tragic nature.”

Delisaster frowned. “That felt kinda personal.”

“If negligence is enough for prosecution, then surely the entire Easton cafeteria should be put on trial. I ask you, Orter, is the Bureau truly prepared to take on that case?”

The Bless Minister let the silence settle, his gaze shifting between Orter and the defendants.

Orter’s fingers tapped against the table. Slowly. Calculated.

Then, after a long pause, he shut his notebook with finality.

The Bless Minister inclined his head slightly, waiting for the final word.

Orter exhaled. “…You are… correct,” he admitted. “Furthermore, precedent does not allow for legal repercussions against culinary incompetence. Given these factors…”

The Bless Minister’s ceremonial staff struck the ground, final and unwavering.

“The charges for Delisaster are hereby dismissed.”

Orter’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing more.

The blonde convict straightened in his seat, eyes widening. “Wait. That’s it? I won?”

Rayne stood, adjusting his cuffs. “The verdict has been rendered.”

╭──────── °∘𓏲𝄢∘° ────────╮

EXHIBIT C
NAME: Epidem
STATUS: Defendant
ADVOCATE: Lance Crown
VICTIM: Anna Crown

⤀  CHARGES FILED  ⬳
Count 1: Attempted Poisoning of Anna Crown
Allegedly attempted to feed Anna coal, claiming it would help her recover from the berry poisoning.

⤀  DEFENDANT STATS  ⬳
CONVICTION RESISTANCE: ★★★☆☆
EMOTIONAL RESPONSE: ☆☆☆☆☆
WILL TO DEFEND HIMSELF: ★★★☆☆

⤀  PLEA  ⬳ 
“False claims."

╰──────── °∘𓏲𝄢∘° ────────╯

“Epidem,” Orter intoned, voice devoid of warmth. “You are accused of violating Article XIII, Section 7 of the Magical Welfare and Endangerment Code—the forced ingestion of hazardous materials upon a minor. Specifically, forcing a child to ingest coal. Do you deny these charges?”

The defendant sat, eerily composed.

Epidem folded his hands on the table and adjusted his glasses with a slow, deliberate motion. “I find myself intrigued by the phrasing. ‘Forcing’ is a most peculiar word choice.”

Orter’s eye twitched. Epidem was playing his usual games.

“So you admit to making her ingest coal?”

“Activated charcoal, to be precise.”

Lance’s knuckles whitened on the advocate’s desk. He had anticipated Orter’s reaction—his fixation, his readiness to condemn Epidem at the slightest provocation. And who could blame him? Epidem had once nearly stripped Anna of her magic. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he had done it again, under the pretense of ‘treatment.’

But Lance knew the truth, even if he hated Epidem.

“Orter,” He interrupted, “You’re making assumptions. Again.”

The Desert Cane barely spared him a glance. “Am I?” He turned back to Epidem. “Anna Crown was found bedridden and unresponsive after your interference. And you expect me to believe you had no part in her condition?”

Epidem tilted his head. “It was quite the opposite, I assure you.”

Lance exhaled sharply. “Your honor, my sister accidentally ingested Oleander.” He looked away, “That’s why she was bedridden. Epidem used activated charcoal—a legitimate medical treatment—to absorb the poison and prevent further harm. You know, the kind that can cause dizziness, confusion, and death if left untreated?”

“And yet,” Orter murmured, “You expect me to believe that this criminal had no ulterior motive?”

Lance stiffened. That tone. That implication.

It felt oddly familiar. It was him in that position before.

Lance’s fingers twitched at his sides. Damn it. Why was he defending Epidem of all people? The same guy he loathed, the same guy who had cursed Anna like some disposable test subject?

He should be standing on Orter’s side, picking apart Epidem’s every word, not shielding him from scrutiny. And yet, here he was, arguing on his behalf. It didn’t make sense. It pissed him off. But no matter how much he hated it, he couldn’t deny the truth.

Epidem had saved Anna’s life.

And Mash—Mash, who always saw the good in people, had given Epidem a chance like he did with everyone else. If Mash was willing to believe that Epidem could be something other than a calculating bastard, then maybe—just maybe—Lance could tolerate this much.

This wasn’t about trust or forgiveness. It was about repaying a debt, about standing by the people who mattered.

Before he could bite back, however, a small voice rang from the gallery.

“Objection!”

Silence fell. All heads turned toward the speaker.

Anna Crown stood up from her seat. “I felt way better after Epidem-san helped me!” she said. “The poison made everything all blurry, and my chest really hurt—I couldn’t even stand! But after I took the charcoal stuff, it all started getting better.”

The Bless Minister spoke, “You are certain?”

She nodded. “I was sick because of my own mistake. Epidem-san helped me.”

For the first time in the entire trial, Orter paused. His certainty wavered—not out of error, but because he was seeing the truth through Anna’s own words. It came from the victim itself.

He couldn’t argue with the ‘victim.’ A child.

Orter exhaled slowly, then looked to the judge. “The prosecution withdraws its charges.”

The gavel struck once more. Case dismissed.

╭──────── °∘ ࣪𖤐.∘° ────────╮

EXHIBIT D
NAME: Doom
STATUS: Defendant
ADVOCATE: Malta Barett
VICTIM: Dot Barrett

⤀  CHARGES FILED  ⬳
Count 1: Attempted Harm to Dot Barrett
Allegedly threw a volleyball that resulted in Dot being injured.
Claims it was a simple game mistake.

⤀  DEFENDANT STATS  ⬳
CONVICTION RESISTANCE: ★★★★★
EMOTIONAL RESPONSE: ☆☆☆☆☆
WILL TO DEFEND HIMSELF: ★★☆☆☆

⤀ PLEA ⬳
“I am not guilty.”

╰──────── °∘ ࣪𖤐.∘° ────────╯

Orter's voice rang out with unwavering authority.

“Doom is accused of reckless endangerment, having struck Dot Barrett with a volleyball at dangerous speeds.”

A sharp gasp followed.

Dot slammed his hands on the stand. “OH, YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT, ORTER-SAN!”

Orter barely spared him a glance. “Attempted harm is a serious accusation. If you insist on causing a scene, I will have you removed.”

Dot gawked. “ME?! I’m the victim here!” He turned around, searching for support. “You guys are hearing this, right? Orter-san I respect 'ya but what the fuck!”

Doom mumbled, “You just suck at volleyball.”

“EXCUSE ME?!”

Orter took this as an opportunity. “Then you admit to striking him?”

“I hit the ball. He got in the way.”

Dot’s jaw dropped. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘I GOT IN THE WAY’?! THAT BALL HAD A DEATH WISH WITH MY FACE!”

Orter exhaled sharply, “Regardless, the fact remains that Doom’s reckless strength—”

“Isn’t a crime,” Malta interrupted, finally stepping forward.

Doom blinked.

She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t looking at him like he was a monster who needed to be caged.

For a moment, Doom felt that again—a flicker of uncertainty, like he had miscalculated the way this was supposed to go. Usually, these things ended with someone calling him dangerous. With someone telling him to be careful, to control himself, to understand that normal people couldn’t take the hits he could.

But Malta wasn’t doing any of that. She was standing in front of him, facing Orter head-on, like this was just another annoying argument she had to handle. Like he was just another guy getting unfairly blamed for something.

Like he was normal.

Orter’s gaze flicked to her. “His excessive force nearly caused harm.”

Malta rolled her eyes. “You ever played a sport, Orter?”

“That is irrelevant.”

“No, it’s not.” She crossed her arms. “You ever seen the way athletes serve a volleyball? People get hit all the time. There’s risk in every game.”

“This was not an official match,” Orter countered. “And his strength is well beyond that of an average player.”

“Exactly,” Malta said. “Which is why the responsibility doesn’t just fall on Doom.”

Doom inhaled slowly, watching her closely.

She was serious. She wasn’t just defending him for the sake of it—she actually believed what she was saying. That was… new.

Orter’s eyes narrowed. “Elaborate.”

Malta smirked. “You can’t play a game with someone that strong and pretend you don’t know the risks. Dot knew exactly what he was getting into, just like we all do when we play with Doom.”

Dot blinked. “Wait, what.”

The older Barrett suddenly turned to look at her little brother, “You knew he was a powerhouse, lil’ bro. You still played. That's on you, yeah?"

The redhead hesitated. “Uh—”

Malta turned back to Orter, rolling her shoulders like this was barely worth her time.

“Look, if Doom actually had it out for Dot, sure, we’d have a different conversation. But this was a game, and my dumbass brother practically walked into his own demise. That’s on him.” She tilted her head, “What’s next? Charging pro athletes for having a killer spike? C’mon, be serious.”

Orter was silent.

Dot frowned. “So you’re saying it was my fault?”

“I’m saying you knew the risks, so honestly, it’s neither’s fault. It’s a game of volleyball. Not a criminal offense.”

Doom exhaled, tension he hadn’t even realized was there easing from his shoulders.

She got it. She really got it.

She wasn’t making excuses for him. She wasn’t acting like he needed to be handled differently, like he was some walking disaster waiting to happen. She was treating him the same way she’d treat anyone else.

And somehow, that felt… nice.

Orter sighed, clearly displeased but unable to argue further. “Hmph. This matter is settled. It was a weak argument to begin with.”

The Bless Minister declared, “Doom is cleared of all charges.”

Doom blinked slowly. He stood still for a moment longer. Then, almost imperceptibly, he glanced at Malta and gave her the smallest nod of gratitude.

Malta just grinned and slapped his arm. “Next time, aim for his hair. He needs a trim.”

Dot squawked.

For the first time in a while, Doom felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as much of an outsider as he thought.

╭──────── °∘꩜∘° ────────╮

EXHIBIT E
NAME: Famin
STATUS: Defendant
ADVOCATE: Mash Burnedead
VICTIM: Cell War

⤀ CHARGES FILED ⬳
Count 1: Assault of Civilian Cell War
Allegedly attacked Cell War, a registered citizen, without provocation or reason.

⤀ DEFENDANT STATS ⬳
CONVICTION RESISTANCE: ★★★☆☆
EMOTIONAL RESPONSE: ★☆☆☆☆
WILL TO DEFEND HIMSELF: ★★★★☆

⤀ PLEA ⬳
“…”

╰──────── °∘꩜∘° ────────╯

“Famin stands accused of attacking a registered citizen, Cell War, without provocation. The facts are clear.”

Famin was entirely silent, which did not help. His expression was unreadable, not because he was hiding something, but because that was just how his face was. His only recorded statement for the case was “…”

Mash Burnedead, the self-appointed defense advocate, was also silent. Not because he was strategizing, but because he had no idea what was going on. He had never really spent time with Famin before. He only knew three things about him: bald, circus, hamburgers.

That wasn’t exactly a solid legal argument.

“Hey, uh, Mash?” Dot whispered. “You’re gonna say something, right?”

Mash blinked. “Oh. Yeah.” He turned to Orter. “So, uh. What did he do again?”

The Desert Cane fixed his glasses, “He attacked Cell War.”

The mushroom head nodded slowly. “Uh-huh. And did Cell War… die?”

“No.”

“Did he, like, get super injured?”

“…No.”

“Soooo… what did he do?”

“He was struck without cause.” Orter’s irritation flickered in his eyes. “That is the charge.”

Mash frowned. “That’s kinda vague.”

“Cell War is currently in the hospital, attaining medical help from his injuries.” He pressed.

The case was slipping. No one really knew why Famin had done what he did, and Famin wasn’t explaining himself. The courtroom murmured. This was going badly.

That’s when Kiwi hesitantly raised a hand. “Um. I, um, I actually read his mind before it happened.”

Silence.

Orter narrowed his eyes. He figured this’ll strengthen his case, not theirs.

“Explain.”

Kiwi gulped. “Right before Famin-san moved, I, um, heard his thoughts. He wasn’t thinking about attacking at all... He was thinking…” She hesitated, “…about feeling something.”

The Bless Minister spoke up, “Elaborate.”

The young girl fidgeted. “He didn’t attack for no reason... His thoughts were clear, he was searching for something—something to feel. And in that moment, his mind screamed your name, not… um, Cell War-san.”

Mash rubbed his chin. “So, what you’re saying is… he had a gut feeling?”

Kiwi nodded hesitantly. “Yeah... I think so.”

Mash turned to Orter. “Huh. So, if someone has a bad gut feeling about something and acts on it, does that mean they’re guilty?”

“That depends on whether the action was justified,” Orter replied curtly.

Mash squinted. “I mean, nobody just punches a guy out of nowhere. It’s like when you bite into a creampuff—you expect it to be soft, but if it’s got a rock inside, you’re gonna react. He saw something. And Kiwi read his mind right before he did it, so whatever he saw must’ve been weird, right?”

Everyone else turned to him, dumbfounded. “Did he really just make a creampuff analogy…?”

He continued, “But here’s the thing—Famin’s got tunnel vision. He doesn’t react to much. But if he did react, it means what he saw was really bad.”

Wirth felt like he knew what was going on, and thus, he suddenly spoke up from the gallery. “You can disguise as people using sands, can’t ‘ya?”

The murmurs in the courtroom grew louder. Orter remained silent.

Mash tapped his chin. It seemed like Wirth's comment made him already figure out what could be going on. “So what if Famin wasn’t just attacking Cell War? What if he saw something dangerous? Like… I dunno, someone that looked like you?”

Gasps echoed across the room. Famin turned to Mash.

For the first time in a long time, Famin wasn’t thinking about dying. The craving had just… vanished, like a candle snuffed out before it could burn the whole place down. Instead, something else crawled up his spine—something foreign, something loud, something that made his teeth itch with how much he wanted to bite into it. It was want. Not for pain, not for an ending, but for more of whatever the hell this was.

This absurd, stupid, brain-dead mushroom-head and his gaggle of equally stupid friends, bending logic into creampuff metaphors just to defend him—him. A freak, a clown, a problem. And yet, here they were, like this was normal. His fingers twitched. His lips curled. Ohhh, this feeling was dangerous. He wanted more.

Orter’s fingers twitched, ever so slightly.

The mushroom head looked up, “Kinda like thinking you’re grabbing a creampuff, but it turns out to be a rock. You’d probably wanna smack it too.”

Dot shouted from the background, “Okay, so lemme get this straight. Famin—who barely reacts to anything—suddenly freaks out and starts throwin’ hands. Kiwi reads his mind and says he was lookin’ for somethin’ to feel?”

“The topic of feelings and Famin is absurd,” Lance commented, “However… if we consider the facts, there’s only one person he’s consistently tried to talk about.”

Mash pointed his finger, “And the only person Famin’s really reacted to like that before… is you.”

The courtroom broke into frenzied whispers. Even the judge looked rattled.

Famin, still silent, lowered his gaze. He wants to win this case, but if he ever slightly spoke, he knows he'll just ruin it all. Ruining this... means he can't have that soft feeling anymore.

Mash cracked his knuckles. “So, I think… somebody was pretending to be someone else. Kinda wanna know why. Feels important.”

Orter exhaled slowly. “Are you accusing me of interfering with this case?”

Mash shrugged. “Dunno. Are you guilty of something?”

Orter remained composed, but the brief flicker in his expression didn’t go unnoticed.

Rayne, leaning back with arms crossed, spoke up. “There’s one way to settle this. We review the recordings from the monitoring bracelets.”

“What?”

The older Ames' tone was stern. “The bracelets placed on the Devil’s Quintuplets track their movements and restrict them, as legally authorized. That includes visual recordings. If we check the footage, we’ll see exactly what happened before the attack.”

The weight of the statement settled over the courtroom.

Orter remained silent for a second too long. Then he scoffed. “Objection! Using the recordings as evidence would be a clear violation of their intended scope.”

“The jury can decide that,” Rayne countered.

Murmurs rippled through the panel. One of the jury members, a stern-looking woman, adjusted her glasses. “The judge must determine whether the footage aligns with the approved purpose of the device.”

The judge, Bless Minister, deliberated for a moment before nodding. “Given that the bracelet’s function is to monitor and restrict the movements of the Devil’s Quintuplets, reviewing the footage falls within its authorized use. Objection overruled.”

Orter did not account for this.

A screen was brought up. The footage played.

At first, nothing unusual—just the Devil’s Quintuplets, their standard chaotic selves. Then the timestamp shifted. A figure moved.

There it was. The footage clearly showed Orter, his features warped by magic, standing in disguise as Cell War. This was the same video that Orter presented to the court as evidence of Famin's attack. Who knew it was cut footage?

Silence.

Orter remained stone-faced, but his jaw was tight.

Rayne’s voice cut through the room like a blade. “That’s identity theft.”

Orter exhaled slowly through his nose, calculating his next move. But the damage was done.

Because now? Everyone saw the truth.

Rayne turned to the jury. “Now that we’ve established the deception, let’s move to the real question—why did Famin attack?”

A new clip began. Famin stood still at first, his face blank. Then, his posture tensed. His gaze locked onto Orter. A shift in his breathing, the way his fingers curled—subtle, but clear. And then, at the moment of impact. The moment Famin launched his attack. Orter disguised himself as Cell War.

Rayne gestured toward the screen. “I have been with these people 24/7 for an entire week, and Famin has never been the type to lash out for no reason. He reacts only when provoked. And the footage confirms exactly what he saw.”

Another segment rolled. A glitch in Orter’s disguise. Just for a split second, the magic shimmered, distorted. The illusion flickered.

“Famin didn’t attack Cell War. He attacked an imposter—a perceived threat. His reaction wasn’t unprovoked violence—it was self-defense against deception, and Orter's provocation,”

Orter remained silent, but the room wasn’t waiting for him to speak anymore. The murmurs grew. One juror leaned toward another, whispering. The judge’s gavel struck once for order.

Then the final piece of footage played. Orter—still disguised as Cell War—stood before Famin. And Famin, just for a moment, hesitated. If he had truly been attacking out of blind aggression, he wouldn’t have paused. But he had. Because he was trying to make sense of what he saw.

Rayne turned back to the jury. “This wasn’t an unprovoked crime. The bracelet footage proves it.”

A long pause. Then,

“The jury finds Famin not guilty.”

Mash clapped once. “Nice.”

Famin blinked, as if processing that he had, in fact, won. Rayne exhaled. He had no doubt about the verdict. Because in the end, the evidence—the truth—had spoken for itself.

The gavel struck. The verdict was final. Famin was free.

The tension in the room settled—on everyone except Orter. He stood, straightening his coat, making a sharp turn toward the exit. His expression was unreadable, but the rigid set of his shoulders screamed irritation.

Rayne noticed. “Running away?”

Orter didn’t even look at him. “I have nothing more to say.”

“Or maybe you just don’t like hearing that you lost,” Wirth chimed in.

Orter’s stride didn’t slow, but then...

“Hold.”

The voice carried weight. Authority. It was the acting judge—it was the Bless Minister.

Everyone turned. Even Orter froze in place, just for a moment.

The Bless Minister—a figure whose presence alone commanded respect—folded his hands and spoke. “This trial has proven two things. One: the accused has been wrongfully blamed and is now free. And two: the accused who are now rightfully innocent, are still deemed dangerous for society.”

The sibling group paused.

“The Devil’s Quintuplets will not return to imprisonment.” He let that sink in before continuing, “But they will be placed under rehabilitation.”

A shift in the atmosphere. Murmurs rippled through the courtroom.

Malta's brows furrowed. “Rehabilitation?”

“Yes.” He said, “These individuals are dangerous. Even if they did not deserve to be jailed for this crime, some of their actions have warranted supervision and correction. I will ensure it.”

The decision was final.

Orter exhaled sharply through his nose. He didn’t argue. But his fingers twitched—he wasn’t happy about this at all. He wanted order to succeed.

The rest remained still. They had won, but this wasn’t exactly the clean-cut victory he wanted.

Lemon tilted her head, “So, like, a second chance?”

The Bless Minister nodded. “Yes. A trial by reform.”

Rayne’s eyes narrowed.

The tension still lingered in the air when Mash—who had been quietly watching—finally spoke up.

“That’d be bad.”

The casual tone caught everyone’s attention. Orter stopped mid-step. The jury turned their heads. The Bless Minister arched a brow.

Mash rubbed the back of his head. “’Cause, uh, the Bureau kinda promised me they’d be free. I saved the world and all. And now you’re saying they gotta go through something else? That kinda sounds like…” He paused. Squinted. “…breaking an agreement?”

Orter turned fully this time, fixing Mash with a stiff glare. “That is not how this works.”

“Yeah, but it’s how I work.”

The courtroom stirred. Even Rayne gave Mash a sideways glance, but before the judge could argue...

“Hohoho.”

That one laugh was enough to command the room’s attention. Walhberg finally spoke.

Everyone—judge, jury, even the Bless Minister—turned toward Easton’s headmaster as he slowly rose from his seat. His presence alone had been a quiet storm in the background, but now? Now, he was stepping into the spotlight.

“I believe,” Walhberg said, smiling as he stroked his beard, “that I may have a compromise.”

The courtroom fell silent.

“What compromise?” Finn asked.

Walhberg’s eyes twinkled. “A proper environment for growth. Rehabilitation with structure.” He gestured ever so slightly. “Easton Magic Academy.”

Silence.

Then—uproar.

“The school?” one juror muttered.

“The Devil’s Quintuplets at Easton?” another whispered.

Orter looked visibly displeased. “That is not a proper solution.”

“Oh, but it is,” Walhberg countered with a knowing smile. “You see, this does not break the Bureau’s promise to Mash Burnedead. The Devil’s Quintuplets will remain free. And under Easton’s guidance, they will receive proper discipline and reform.”

Orter’s jaw locked. He had nothing to counter that with. Just like the rest of the Bureau staff.

Rayne, meanwhile, just exhaled sharply. Mash had somehow turned a life sentence into a school sentence.

Walhberg chuckled, raising a hand toward the courtroom. “Then it is decided.”

He turned to the Bless Minister, who gave a slow, thoughtful nod.

And then—Walhberg declared it:

“The Devil’s Quintuplets are hereby sentenced to school rehabilitation."

TO BE CONTINUED.
|| BOOK 2 OF THE BURNEDEAD BROTHERS ||
Siblings’ School Sentence