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Chapter Text

Cherry blossoms and embers filled the air.

Scarlet flames burned in the dim atmosphere and traded places in the air with brilliant bullets of radiant yellow light. There was a roar of furious attacks, one after the other, as magic gold effigies materialized, dispensing flames at a vicious pace, and were shattered by a hail of bullets in return fire. Shadows danced along the white stone bricks, stained with scorch marks, and the ashes of the blossoms fell upon them as they burned beneath and up the large sakura tree overshadowing the small balcony where it was all taking place. A small, human child was squared off against a much larger fox monster adorned in a cloak and mask, wielding a staff with an ornate, gleaming golden head.

The hum- no, Clover, was fighting for his life.

The fox monster in front of him was his friend- or who he thought was his friend, Ceroba. Clover wished he could have spent every second he was fighting instead asking himself, asking her, why. Why did he have to die? Why couldn't they just- why couldn't they figure something out? Of course, Clover had done that before, he'd spent the time he should have spent trying to survive breaking up and pleading with Ceroba, begging her to stop, telling her he didn't want to fight. The best he'd ever gotten was her telling him to stop moving, to stop making it hurt. Whether the one getting hurt was him, her, or both, Clover still couldn't tell.

It didn't matter now, anyway, that was many deaths ago.

Clover lept out of the way of another burst of flame as he tried to stop his mind from wandering, blasting down another golden, magical apparition of a fox-patterned paper lantern which was spewing rings of flame his way as he did so. Clover, as drained as he felt, kept breathing, kept a practiced calm, and tried to keep himself even. The practiced, superhuman pace of someone who'd seen all these attacks before allowed Clover to steel himself as best as he could against the occasional stray hit. For as many times as the pain came, it never really got easier, Clover could only learn to Endure it better.

Ceroba, breathing heavy and yet just as resolute as the human in front of her, swung her staff in a flourish as flames swept across the balcony. Clover weaved his way between them, taking a quick mental note of the fact another one of those fox-head things had materialized in the corner of vision, surrounded by a circle of flames as it moved towards him. Then he saw a white light filling the air around him like a filter and knew what came next. Harnessing the newly released power of his Soul Clover dashed his way out of the suddenly solidified prison of light trying to freeze him solid, just in time to dodge around the fox-head and the wheel of flame headed his way.

A geyser of water erupted from the ground, Clover sidestepped it just in time. More golden fox-head effigies circled him in the corner of these visions, conjuring straight lines of flame that hurled at him all at once, Clover threaded the gap between each ball of flame expertly. A bell dropped from above, he dodged and, seeing an orange flash as it shattered on the ground, leaped through the oncoming wave. All in time to start over again with another barrage of attacks.

Clover had seen all of these attacks individually dozens- if not hundreds of times by this point. He was starting to recognize even the sounds they made when Ceroba conjured them up, taking advantage of every opportunity to instinctually free himself from harm's way, if only for a moment. Even still, taking a stray hit, or even a near miss, never got any easier. Every time Ceroba had incinerated him to ash, had burned him till he couldn't breathe, had smashed his bones whether with sheer magical force or the blunt end of her large staff, it all broke him a little more each time. Clover was tired of dying, but staying dead, especially now as he came so close to the end of his journey, was a prospect all the more terrifying.

So, even as shook as each end left him when he found himself brought back into the world with every LOAD, Clover only became driven to never meet that same end again. In some ways, it was like a morbid game, the sick pattern of trial and error with every death was something Clover could almost mold into some sort of macabre challenge for himself to not repeat his failings. It was one of the only ways Clover could feel better about going through each and every death, each failure, each demise at the hands of someone he'd trusted far too quickly. It never helped, not for long. Clover hated dying, he hated it that as much as the fact it wasn't permanent made him fear it less, it made him dread it more. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going like this.

Clover continued to fire away at Ceroba's shield, the yellow glow of energy around his body forming into bullets he projected from his hands as his Soul sparkled with energy, producing shot after shot which sounded like pins dropping on glass as they made contact and weakened Ceroba's barrier.

Ceroba attacked again, another swing of her staff through the air. The human was surrounded by a spinning shimenawa rope forming a closed circle. Clover blasted the golden-masked fox's head keeping the rope together, moving out of the way of another water geyser just as the circle around him faded. Then he was surrounded by flowers- blossoms, spinning and enclosing in on him again. He dashed once more, his ability to call upon the reservoir of his Soul's pulsating power not dimming even after death and close calls. Then he saw another wave of flame headed his way and-

This time Clover wasn't so fast. He was hit one after another by 4 flames, the searing pain shaking him to the core of his being, and Clover stumbled, panicking as he instinctively triggered his dash to move his way through the remainder of the magic, hissing and squinting through the pain. He dashed a little too far forward, right into Ceroba's reach. Clover didn't even have time to react before the fox monster spun and swung her staff in a large sweep, aiming for Clover's legs. Clover jumped, he'd seen this one before. But he was just too slow to see the back strike coming in time and all he could do was raise his hands and-

The golden head of Ceroba's staff contacted the side of Clover's head hard and sent the cowboy sprawling. Even as Clover's head rang, he found some comfort in the fact that Starlo had taken that same hit head-on for him. If the Sheriff could, Clover could too. If Clover hadn't been desperately fumbling with his bag the moment he landed, head reeling and skull feeling split down the middle, he would have had more time to appreciate the fact that Ceroba had exhausted her energy- her turn, and left him his. Clover reached for anything he could grab, he was almost out of items, and he could only find one left. Clover didn't know what it was, but it smelled... smoky.

It didn't matter what it was, he needed something, so Clover shoved it in his mouth, the taste of an insufferably dry dust-like causing the cowboy to cough horribly as he shoveled it down as best he could. The inherent magic that came with monster food flowed through him, mending his wounds, and restoring his energy, and just like that Clover was back on his feet like nothing had happened.

...minus some gunpowder, that is.

Clover was thankful that, as much as each and every time hurt, he was able to think so quickly on his feet, the fear of death at least mildly nulled by one flower with a smile too wide who the human knew was watching. As Clover stood to face Ceroba again, Clover couldn't be more grateful for his friend than he was now. As... prickly as Flowey could be at times, and a little... condescending, Clover truly couldn't have asked for a better friend. The flower had followed him all the way through the Underground for seemingly no reason other than an altruism Clover couldn't for the life- or lives of him, place.

"His best friend."

As Ceroba recovered her energy and prepared to attack again, Clover only allowed himself a moment to feel the earlier sadness of the situation return. Ceroba's face was shadowed, even the broken parts of Kanako's mask that should have exposed the fox monster's face seemed clouded in perpetual darkness. Ceroba herself was, too. She was sinking, and she wasn't chasing a light, as much as she'd say she would. Clover had seen her memories, he knew what happened, and he knew why she felt the way she did. She was chasing all she knew, all she could understand to make what she'd done better, to salvage some modicum of meaning from the loss of her family. But this wasn't it, it wasn't the way to make it right, it wasn't Just.

Clover... Clover wasn't sure if he was Just, either. He was fighting to live, because... because he didn't wanna die. Everyone would do that, wouldn't they? But him living was... was it a crime? Was it an injustice that Ceroba would never see her daughter again, that Monsterkind would never see the surface again because he wanted to live? Was it wrong of him to do this? Just because he wanted to live was he in the wrong? In some twisted way, Ceroba'd killed him so many times now maybe Ceroba was justified in how many times she'd won... if it was fair, if Clover had the chances everyone else did, if Flowey wasn't here... she'd have won long ago. She was stronger, her will was stronger than his.

Yet, Clover somehow knew that even if everything went perfectly, even if Ceroba got what she wanted from his Soul, even if it could bring Kanako back, even if it could make the serum Clover had heard Chujin describe, there was no justice on that road. Ceroba wasn't living to be Ceroba, she was living to fix things, and something told Clover she'd never quite be able to stop living that way if she went through with this. Then Kananko- poor Kanako, even if she was willing, Clover didn't want to know what Ceroba might do to a child who wouldn't dare say no to her mother's insistence or her dead father's last wish. Kanako had already fallen down because of it once, and Clover didn't want to know what kind of fate it might be to have Ceroba use her to make that serum over and over.

There was no telling, and that's why Clover fought on. This wasn't just about him. Even if it was the foremost thought in his mind, to fight, to survive, to live,  the cowboy knew that he wasn't just fighting for himself at that moment. He was fighting to save Ceroba from herself, from drowning in the misery of her loss, from being obsessed with Chujin's memory to the point she'd betray her friends to keep it alive. Ceroba would never be happy like that.

Even as she wound up another attack, rearing back with her staff, even as Clover's breath hitched at the sight and he was so afraid of her he felt he'd be shaking if he hadn't already died doing that already, even if he was terrified of her-

There had to be Justice for Ceroba too, and Clover would make sure she'd have it.

Another wave of fire from the fox-headed effigies. Clother breathed in, breathed out. Steady, even, like he'd practiced. He weaved between the balls of fire, and then he backstepped as he saw the white flash of Ceroba's paralyzing spell solidify inches from his face. He kept breathing, calm. Two bells fell, and another fox-headed effigy in its ring of flame spun towards him. Blue, then orange waves exploded out from the cracked bells as they fell, he dashed through the ring of flame, taking a hit to the arm from a stray fireball in the process. He stood as still as he could as the shivering sensation of a blue attack washing over his still frame passed through his body and soul. Another ring of flowers surrounded him, and a geyser below his feet. Clover dashed backward, just in time to feel himself sink harmlessly through the wave of orange he knew to be there.

Clover held his hand out, then the other, recoiling and thrusting them forth, weaving between fireballs strung from the fox effigies that circled around him. Each bullet impacted the shield, the red on her golden shield of energy growing with each small impact, her protection weakening. Ceroba swung her staff once, then twice, waves of fire forming from the tip and searing the very air as Clover jumped between points to dodge the oncoming attacks. She kept swinging, her body shaking, and it was then Clover realized how tired she was getting. The pinpricks of red light that could count for her eyes in the darkness of the broken ceramic mask covering her face flickered and wavered like candles.

Clover'd never been this far, he was afraid- afraid of dying, afraid of Ceroba, afraid of the one he wanted to save, of a friend- former friend? Friend fallen out. It took all he had to stop himself from shaking as sweat rolled off his forehead, Clover clenched his fists and, as a lull in Ceroba's attacks came, adjusted his hat, then started blasting. He felt power gathering in his hands, in his Soul, and he was not going to hesitate to release it. He released larger bullets- they were better described as blasts now, that one after the other rained heavy, thudding impacts upon Ceroba's diamond shield which echoed like strikes upon a gong. The fox held up her staff as if to brace or reinforce the failing barrier, but it didn't seem to do much good.

Shot after shot hit true, Clover dodged through all of Ceroba's attacks, becoming increasingly desperate. Clover's hands continued pulsing with energy, and where they had once been so steady, were rapidly becoming shaky and numb. It could have been the adrenaline, it could have been the potential overuse of his Soul's power, or most likely of all; it was that Clover had never been this far before. Clover was tired, so tired of dying to someone he had considered a friend mere hours ago. He didn't want to keep being afraid of her, he didn't want to keep being stuck here dying to her over and over, being forced to fight. Eventually, the carmine-red coloration indicating the deterioration of Ceroba's shield eclipsed its natural yellow, and, as Clover had seen many times before, it flashed and in a moment seemed to become brittle. Just like he'd seen twice before, Ceroba flinched back from her shield as the 4 bells that generated it were called to the front to keep it stable.

Clover's hands, which had previously been a little wobbly, now began to truly shake violently, the cowpoke forcefully steadying them. His calm breathing was becoming slightly erratic, and Clover could feel the heat in the air clashing against a sudden chill in his skin, a tense sense of foreboding anxiety running down his spine as he held his hands out, Soul in front of his chest pulsating and glowing with righteous power. It was farther than he'd ever been, and while the sense of the unknown unnerved him, in truth, it was what he knew this represented that gave him such nerves.

This was it, the final stretch. Clover was at the end of it, the end of this horrible, horrible battle. No more pain, no more dying, no more fighting against someone you wish so desperately you could help instead of being hurt by them. Clover had lost hope after about 2 dozen attempts... he'd grown clinical, numb, just trying to push through a never-ending barrage of fire and flowers, to escape the constant cycle of death. But now, now that he was here at the end, the finale. The shaking in Clover's hands momentarily got worse at the thought, the anticipation and anxiety of failing now- and he pushed it aside, he drew his fingers in tight, tensed just about every muscle in his body, and took a deep breath in.

'Don't screw it up.'

The four bells holding Ceroba's shield together swung in unison as they began to cycle, to spin and slide along the diamond shape of Ceroba's barrier, all of them beginning to lose flame after flame, the scarlet hue of dozens- no, hundreds of burning embers flowed through the air and converged on Clover. Despite there being so many, Clover dodged, he weaved and slid his way between every gap. Through it all, he continued to fire, to unleash all the power his Soul had left. His aim was true, even if his entire body still felt compelled to crumble on him from sheer stress alone, and each bullet that found its mark produced a crack in the ethereal form of the magically produced fiery bells.

One shattered, followed by a white wave of light. Clover dashed through it and kept firing. The human took a flame to the arm, then to the chest, but he brushed off the pain and kept firing. A second bell shattered, then a third, and Clover only forced his way through one of the resulting waves of light, taking the other right to the head. His ears rang incessantly, and his head felt like it just took a brick... but it didn't stop him. Clover's vision blurred, he took another fireball to the chest and gritted his teeth, but he didn't let it distract him. He kept firing, he kept hitting that last bell, cracked and fragile from many stray hits already. The cowpoke was having a hard time seeing straight, but even that didn't hinder his aim- for it was his Soul and not his eyes that guided every projectile to its mark.

Ceroba was panicking now, she looked just as exhausted as Clover was, despite the fact she hadn't taken any real blows when all the damage had gone to the mask. He could see the pinpricks of light that were her eyes in the shade of the fractured mask, wildly dancing to and fro in what Clover knew was panic. The last bell took a few more hits and then shattered completely, leaving only one more wave of energy that Clover swiftly drove his way through. Along with it went the last remnants of Ceroba's diamond shield, the reverberating sound of its complete collapse reminding Clover of the all too familiar sound of shattered plates... a memory he really wished he wasn't recalling at this moment.

Clover had seen it happen many a time now, the shield broke with a vicious force that was like snapping a rubber band, hitting Ceroba's form with its full force and leaving her collapsed on her knees despite attempting to brace against the imminent damage. She struggled to not collapse completely, and Clover knew this was it. His last dash to evade that final wave had put him right in front of her, and Clover unloaded all he could on Kanako's mask. Ceroba's head jerked side to side with each impact as the mask grew even more chipped, as ceramics were flung across the balcony or dropped to the ground in front of her. Ceroba's movements were jerky and desperate as she attempted to find her composure, but Clover wouldn't let her. He let bullet after bullet, blast after blast, slam into the mask until it just seemed ready to snap-

But, even through a blurry, adrenaline-juiced vision and the heat of the moment... Clover saw something. Clover was about to unleash another blast when the impact of the prior one illuminated something. Through the cracked, nearly totally broken mask that covered Ceroba's visage, her actual face covered with its shadow, the bright yellow flashes of projectiles impacting on it illuminated... something. Something that made Clover hesitate if only a moment too long. Ceroba's eyes. They were wild, full not of pain or anger or anything that would indicate she was still desperately trying to kill Clover but-

They were filled with fear, an undeniable panic. They looked like how Clover imagined he had every time he'd faced death throughout his journey. They were anguished, scared, and totally uncertain, there wasn't that desire not to kill him, no more than the grim look of cold determination she'd had when their fight began, but that of someone desperate beyond all measure. That wasn't truly what gave Clover pause, however.  It was that her eyes were... were filled with-

Even Clover's blurred gaze caught so clearly that the light that illuminated her face was reflecting off of something shiny, something wet-

Tears. Her eyes were filled with tears.

Ceroba was crying.

Even in the middle of their fight, even when she was trying to kill him, even in this most pivotal of moments that... that saddened Clover. Was it the memories? The pains he'd forced her to relive, the ones that had never truly healed? Was it the overwhelming stress of the situation, the fate of Chujin's legacy and her Kanako's life, the fact she believed her life would be over if she failed? Was it... did she... Clover...

The hesitation was what Ceroba needed, at least what she could make use of, and she swiftly pushed herself to her feet, but she was on shaky legs. Clover expected another barrier, another slam of her staff's head to his own, to die again, to have to fight his way back through all that just because he was being stupid and emotional. But all Ceroba could muster, having expended her magic and evidently being physically and mentally exhausted, was to raise her staff and weakly shove Clover back with the midsection. Clover didn't even feel odd-balanced as he slid back, Ceroba was shaking, barely standing straight, and yet as Clover fired again on instinct she managed to block the projectile with her staff.

Clover felt panic set in, if she could re-summon her shield- set it all back, he'd die. He knew he would. The cowpoke had already taken so much damage in her last shield that he wouldn't survive. Then Flowey would LOAD him back and he'd have to fight through it all over again, he'd have to die and die and die again to get back here.

Clover's hand shook. In fear? Certainly. He was terrified, terrified of going through it all again, of everything having been for not, of having to do everything again, making him suffer- her suffer again.

But as it shook, fear changed to anger. Anger not at Ceroba, but at himself. Why couldn't he just do it? Why wasn't he strong enough? Why wasn't he able to make things right? Why wasn't he good enough, why wasn't he good enough for the world? Why was he never good enough for them!?

Clover breathed in sharply, the bruises and burns on his body aching as he grew tense. But that anger turned inward... the violent fuel of memories and the sudden stress of the situation which all seemed likely to make Clover snap only brought out one last burst of focus from the human. His Soul burned with it all the fury of his own failings, over and over again- the pain of his situation, of yet another adult trying to hurt him, of his friends, two lying unconscious nearby, one facing him down. All of them he was failing, he was too weak, too pathetic to do anything about it-

Ceroba stood across from him, but she wasn't his enemy at that moment.

Clover didn't want to keep dying. He didn't want to keep being weak, he didn't want to keep being helpless, he didn't want to keep suffering like this, he didn't want others to keep suffering like this he didn't want to be incapable of bringing Justice anymore. He wanted to help, he wanted to do what was right, just let him- just-

'No more...'

Everything seemed to slow, Clover's breathing like the roar of a wave in his ears. Hundreds of deaths he could remember played in his head, hundreds of times he'd cried out in anguish or been silenced too quickly to do so. Hundreds of times he'd been cast into a void, a Soul without a vessel, even if only for infantile moments before everything was undone. There were hundreds more memories, memories he didn't even recall, hundreds- if not thousands of times he had died he- he didn't even remember them. Was it just visions? The panic, the trauma, the pain catching up with him?

Clover saw Ceroba in front of him. He'd seen Ceroba in front of him for what must have been a day at least now- or more. The human's body suddenly felt... hotter. Hotter than the air around them, burning up, even. A yellowish hue enveloped Clover's vision as he breathed out, then back in, and out sharper and yet sharper still as he began to almost hyperventilate.

'No more.'

He- He didn't want to die again, he didn't want to die anymore... he just wanted to save everyone, was that so wrong? He only wanted-

But he already knew, he knew long before this fight but- but what was it all for then? Why had he died and died and died So. Many. Times?

"What, did you think you'd jump down here and find them?"

'No...'

"Five humans, living out their lives, unharmed..."

'No...!'

"That isn't how it works."

'Nonononono...'

Clover saw Ceroba, he saw her standing weakly, and trying to raise her staff... to do this all over again and-

He knew what she'd meant. He knew it exactly, some part of him knew it too, ever since he figured it out. Ever since he knew they hadn't survived.

They are all dead, and you will be too.

Clover had died so much, so so much, so much that he'd started to lose his sense of time whenever he came back. He had no idea how long he'd been down here in real-time anymore- much less how long he'd spent if he counted every death Flowey had undone. He was... he was tired and-

The cowboy clenched his fist as he slowly raised it towards Ceroba. Clover wouldn't let it happen, he was going to end it, and he was going to stop being weak. He wasn't going to let everyone suffer from this injustice any longer. His soul burned like horrible indigestion, the hate and the sadness and the pain poisoning his being- but giving him power, the power- the Determination to make it all stop. To bring the loop to a close.

'I don't wanna die...'

Clover's whole body shook, energy gathered in his palm and around the wrists as his right hand lingered in the air.

'I don't wanna die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die n-no- no-'

Clover felt the tears run down his cheeks, he felt his mouth twist in a mishappen howl of agony. But his ears rang, his head spun with memories and his mind was too crowded with all that had happened- that was happening, to take in the fact that he had screamed.

"NO MORE!!!"

Clover felt his entire body recoil as he let loose the most powerful blast he could muster. The human wasn't even sure what he was aiming for, he'd long lost sight of a target. He just wanted it to end, he just wanted it to stop.

Ceroba braced for it, but in the end, it wasn't even a contest. Her staff split in two on the moment of impact, while Kanako's mask, one of the last remnants of the sweet girl Clover would never know, shattered into pieces on impact as Ceroba was flung back, landing with a hard thud on the white brick floor of the balcony. The large cloak that covered her kimono, the large tail-like extensions of her hair, her general aura of power- all of it dissolved like dusk in the wind as all the power she'd summoned from within and from the mask she carried dissipated. The sakura tree's leaves seemed to cease falling, the smell of ash and ember faded, and the wind seemed to die just as it blew. Clover breathed heavily, dazed and choking, sputtering on the air itself. Eyes panicked and wild, breathing uneven and rough. For a few moments the fear of death- of doing it all over again, still pre-empted the realization that it was, in fact, over.

When that realization hit, and when Clover saw Ceroba's body strewn out across the hard floor, all his senses seemed to return. Shaking in fear of his own death quickly became shaking in fear over hers. He- he couldn't have, he didn't want to- he- he didn't-

Clover's knees felt weak, and he couldn't speak, he couldn't call out to ask if she was ok. he couldn't see if she was wounded, he- he didn't know what to do. He could only grab onto his vest as best he could to stop himself from having another full-blown panic attack. All he could hope was that he hadn't, that he never would do that to her. Please just get up, please get up, please don't die-

Every second she didn't move, Clover felt more compelled to do something, to check on her, yet every second she didn't turn to dust was another moment he doubted himself and- and doubted everything. Clover still wasn't over the fact he'd been fighting endlessly in a cycle for what must have been days, that she'd killed him for all those days, that he'd died over and over and- and-

It wasn't her fault. It wasn't her fault like it wasn't Melody's. They didn't feel like they had a choice- they were both so scared and alone and looking for the only way out. She didn't deserve it, neither of them did. Nobody deserved to die. It wasn't right it... it wasn't Just...

So when Clover begged, begged in his head that she'd do something- do anything to let him know she was still alive, that the monster who had, before all this, been someone he'd have considered as much of a friend as Martlet or Starlo, wasn't going to die because of his stupid mistake, a mistake he wasn't sure he could get reversed, he meant it.

Equally as much, when Ceroba's still form finally shifted, Clover felt more relief than he ever had. There was no celebrating his victory, there was no joy. He was just so... so tired. No sooner than the fox had hauled herself to her knees and turned towards Clover than the cowpoke had fallen to his own knees in mirroring her, exhausted and frankly, devastated. It was over, it was- it was over-

Clover leaned on his own body weight, the pain of his injuries still not subsided, even though they were nulled by the still-flowing rush of adrenaline. He tried to rest on his palms but quickly found that to be a bad idea as his arms wobbled like rubber and instead simply slumped as best he could. It was all he could do to not pass out from the exhaustion, from the stress of it all. The taste of gunpowder on Clover's tongue still stung even through the numbness of it all, the overwhelming overload of information that had passed through Clover's mind over the course of a minute or two had thoroughly wrecked him in every possible definition of the word.

Clover forgot there were tears in his eyes, he forgot so much that he almost let everything in the moment go just to regain himself, his sense of self, his thoughts strewn and even his Soul feeling rattled- but a sound snapped him back to reality. A choked sob, a bitter, anguished sob that resonated with a sense of dejection and sheer despair... a sob Clover knew the origin of before he'd even comprehended how hurt of a sound it was.

Ceroba was clutching the shattered remnants of her mask- of Kanako's mask, in her arms, bundled together with her the two halves of her staff, held tightly to the fox's chest as hard as she could and buried into her dirtied kimono. Kananko's mask- one of the last things Ceroba had of her daughter, and her staff- the staff that had once been a simple walking stick for her husband. Ceroba had been crying during their fight and had clearly been shaken to the very core of her being by the memories, by the stress of it all. But now- now she'd lost everything.

Even as Clover still feared her- feared his former friend, feared her for how much death she had brought to him, he was still more than overwhelmed with sadness. Sadness that any of it had happened... that Ceroba was here, weeping over the broken remains of her family even after all this time. Clover was so drained he could barely even meet the brief glance she gave him before her bangs covered it and she turned her head downward, but it said it all. There was no anger, no hostility. There was a shame, there was despair... and a raw, absolute pain that filled her eyes that looked more like shadowed windows in a rainstorm.

Ceroba- Ceorba didn't deserve this. But Clover couldn't do a thing to comfort, to help, all he could do was sit and breathe as deeply as he could, trying to regain a sense of his lost composure, wiping tears he only just now remembered covered his own face from his being and casting them away like they'd never been there. Clover's feelings, his heart and soul, were still raw, still reeling from the torment, of everything he'd been through. With Ceroba, in the Underground, his whole life. He could take some solace in the fact that this was over but... but there was still so much to go.

Ceroba seemed too lost in her own feelings, at least for the moment, to say the words that he knew she wanted to say. That was ok because Clover was the same. He wanted so badly to tell Miss Ceroba it was ok, that... that he understood, that he forgave her. But he couldn't, after everything he just- he just needed a moment. He needed a moment to think, to feel, to let all the pain come through and be washed away by the future as it came in like the tide. It was ok, it was ok. Even if it didn't feel ok, it was OK.

Clover shivered involuntarily and turned his own eyes downward. There was so much running through his brain, so much he'd just felt, so much he was still feeling. So much pain coursing through every inch of his body and Soul even though the fight had long ended by now. He needed to calm down, he needed to be OK. He needed to make it right, he needed to make it all right, he needed- no, they needed Justice. Don't be weak, don't be afraid, don't be that stupid kid stuck washing dishes and crying over a few bruises again. You aren't, you're a hero, Martlet said so. You have friends you... you... you can make things right and-

"That isn't how it works."

Clover wanted to speak up, wanted to tell the phantom to shut up- the memory that was really made not so long ago but had become distant in the sea of constant battle, of dying. But he couldn't, he couldn't muster any sound but a whimper, a low whine as his lips trembled. None of the other five had survived... what made him any different? In another time and place, there might have existed a Clover that was better, that hadn't died so much, that hadn't felt every conceivable way to be killed by the people who would become, then one who had once been, his friend. That Clover... he knew that Clover might have understood, might have realized the injustice that was their existence while monsters like Ceroba had to live to never see the Sun, to have their families torn apart all because someone of his kind had once shoved them in this hellhole.

That Clover would have corrected that injustice, would have been the one out on the railroad tracks when Starlo had "trained" them. He would have given up anything, his life, his Soul, his all, just to make the world better, to bring Justice to as many creatures, humans or monsters, as he could.

But this Clover? This Clover didn't want to die. This Clover didn't want to do this anymore. This Clover saw Ceroba across from him and didn't see her tears and think that he should assure her, that he should help her- because he couldn't even help himself. What was he doing? What was he doing anymore... all those deaths, all that sacrifice and- and for nothing. For nothing, because Clover was afraid of his friend, he was afraid of Ceroba. The cowpoke had tried so hard to hide it, tried so hard to bury all the fears, all the pain, all the everything behind his mission. But now? He didn't even have that. All he had awaiting him was death. Whether it was her, whether it was Asgore, whether it was someone else.

The other Clover, knowing that, would have given it up. Would have made it easy for all of them to move on. Would have made things Just.

But as this Clover stared at his hands, shaking, as he felt tears welling up inside him again, he knew that any chance of being that Clover was long gone. Clover was still Clover, nothing would change that. But the Clover who'd sacrifice it all? Who wasn't afraid to die for the sake of monsterkind? The Clover that might have existed before he had been beaten and burned to death by someone he thought was his friend as he tried to plead over and over? That Clover wasn't there.

This Clover just wanted to live. He was ashamed of it, he so badly wished that he could be a hero, like the old western gunslingers he loved so much. Someone who carried their character but not their methods...

Now he carried neither.

So, as Ceroba clutched what remained of the parts of her family she carried with her tight to her chest and wept, this Clover could do nothing but silently sob along.

Little did Clover know, that grim parallel between human and monster would begin something much bigger between them. Something with hope.

Maybe the other Clover would have liked that.

Chapter Text

⋆⋆⋆✿ Ceroba ✿⋆⋆⋆

Ceroba has always known what she'd have to do. Not what she wanted to do, not what she planned to do, what she had to do.

The moment a human had set foot in the Wild East, someone like Clover with such a pure, pure Soul... Ceroba knew she was going to be forced to do something she could never have dreamed of. Ceroba was committed to it, of course. She was Devoted, Decisive, and Determined, just as she always knew she must be when the opportunity finally arose. Ceroba wasn't sure she'd ever get that opportunity and... and it only took watching Clover, getting her own few words in here and there, to wonder if she'd ever wanted that opportunity to begin with.

After going through the Steamworks with Clover, she was certain she never wanted that opportunity, as much as she wanted to- had to fulfill Chujin's wishes, as much as she had to get her daughter back-

Before Ceroba had put on the mask, she wished Clover'd never entered her life and left her to drown neck-deep in her own sins in that saloon. It was what she deserved.

But not what Kanako deserved, not what Chujin's memory deserved. Even if it was a fib, a convenient excuse to make her actions seem more justifiable than they were, she told herself and told Clover it was also about what Monsterkind deserved. It was easier to believe you were some altruistic savior throwing yourself on the sword of 'what must be done' than to accept the reality that your pain had consumed you, consumed you so much that it drove your whole life even if it only meant hurting yourself more, and dragging others down with you. Over time, the widow's pain had poisoned into a bitter will to make sure it all wasn't in vain, the sting of loss contorting into a furious drive to make it all mean something.

Heh, she really was no better than Asgore.

Ceroba knew that all the talk about protecting Monsterkind wasn't what drove her, wasn't what pushed her to try and take all Clover had from him. While everyone wanted to be free, almost everyone wanted what was best for their fellow monsters, it wouldn't have pushed Ceroba to kill, especially not to kill someone like Clover. That dream wasn't hers, it was Chujin's. It was the dream he'd made into his last wish for her to fulfill, it was the dream that she... that she'd committed unspeakable things for. The dream that Kanako had been cast down by her own mother trying to achieve. The dream that had consumed her family whole, and that had now consumed her.

It wasn't her dream. All her family had been destroyed by it. Yet she'd do anything to make that heartbreak, that loss of what was so precious, have some meaning. To tell herself that it wasn't all for nothing.

Yet, as Ceroba clutched the broken remains of her family tight to her chest, tears streaming down her face as she found herself defeated despite everything, Ceroba knew it was all for nothing. Everything she'd done... everything she'd tried after Chujin had died... it was all a failure. Not just a failure, a mistake, one after the other of grievous errors. All that Ceroba had left, all that she carried with her, too afraid of her own ghosts to step foot in that house again, was broken in her arms. A shattered mask once made by her daughter, a simple walking stick once carried by her husband. She'd made them into weapons, tools of violence, and in the end because of that they were now gone.

Ceroba would have laughed at the bitter metaphor of what seemed like her whole life had she not been so caught up in her heartbreak. She choked back a sob as she spoke, shakily and like her voice was being wrenched in two, yet just barely above a whisper.

"My love... my child...

Ceroba squeezed the broken objects in her arms even tighter to her body, fearing they might yet slip away entirely.

"All... gone..."

Ceroba didn't know who she was speaking to at that point. Herself, perhaps her family as she had many a time before... it seemed odd that the last consideration in her mind was the one she'd just been fighting. The fox monster had almost forgotten Clover was still here, that he hadn't bolted or simply... vanished into the ether after she'd been brought low. Probably because she was expecting him to have killed her, not because Clover was vicious or... or she expected that of him. Quite the opposite, she knew Clover was truly a kind Soul. But that didn't change the fact that if Clover had done it... she'd have deserved it. She still did.  Ceroba tilted her head up slightly as she could barely take in the sight of the small human through her bangs, he too was on his knees. But she knew that was out of exhaustion rather than defeat. Ceroba spoke again, now directing her attention to Clover.

"Why wouldn't you just..."

How could she finish that statement? How could she make herself an even bigger liar, a hypocrite, a fiend knowing that she'd lost and still might ask Clover to understand why she needed him to stop living? She knew what she meant, but it wasn't what she wanted to say. She'd said it already more than once. She'd asked Clover why he wouldn't, then demanded that he would just... stop moving. That he'd just die, that he'd make this easier on both of them. Ceroba would have continued and would have told Clover all of what he already knew again. How close she was now to fulfilling Chujin's work, how close she was to getting her daughter back... all the horrific things she'd done to get here, to need to do this. Why she was far more of a true monster than any of Monsterkind could claim to be.

But as her ears twitched, as they caught something that was too... horrible to ignore, she stopped. At first, she thought she was hearing herself, what sorry state she was in to not even be able to recognize her own sobs... but then she held her breath and... heard it some more. Then again, and again. Ceroba raised her head to the one across from her, not just looking at Clover's chest, not being too ashamed to meet the human's gaze, and seeing that Clover, too, had his head turned down. Clover was shaking, shivering in between what Ceroba knew were attempts to recollect himself, breathing deep and heavy and briefly slowing or stopping the shaking but... it always returned.

But that wasn't the worst of it, Ceroba bit down on her lip hard to prevent herself from breaking down any further than she already had. Even through a blurred vision of tears, of exhaustion, Ceroba could see the little droplets falling from beneath Clover's face and impacting on the stone. She could see that he was wracked not just with that horrid shaking, but with sudden, violent sobs that jerked his body back and forward like someone was yanking on invisible strings. Ceroba felt like garbage, no, less than that. She felt the need to wallow in her misery as she had for so long rear its ugly head again, the urge to simply sink into self-loathing and die became very appealing.

But... even if she wanted it, even if her life was over she... she had to do something. Say something. Ceroba felt herself incapable of organizing her thoughts, stumbling over her words as she tried to summon up something, anything she could say to make the situation she'd put them both in any better.

"...Clover..."

Clover suddenly froze at hearing his name, the shaking, fidgeting mess tensed up and went rigid, only relaxing a moment later and, when he did so, seeming more like a deflated balloon than anything. Ceroba tried to force something out, something she could utter that might fix it even a little...

"...I-I... I..."

...but there was nothing to say. What could she say? I'm sorry? Tell the human how much she regretted it even as she'd taken swing after swing at Clover, trying to send him into an eternal stillness? Tell him how much of a hypocrite she was... would that make him feel better? She doubted it, she doubted there was anything she could say to rectify what she herself had done. To try and take a life was one thing, but to do it as a betrayal? To ask of someone to give you that sacred thing that was trust, to act- no, there was no acting, to be friends with someone and then- then to tear it all away in the most vicious way possible?

There was no coming back from that, not even in the moments before her death.

"Clover, I-"

Then Clover raised his head, and he looked at her. Really looked at her, and Ceroba felt herself flinch at the sight. It wasn't the tears, they'd already left their mark on her psyche, already torn her away from her self-hatred to try and help. It was the human's eyes themselves. Clover's eyes were... tired, tired, and yet so evidently hurt. But that wasn't the most evident thing there, no no, that was fear. Clover looked terrified, his usually golden, gleaming eyes had a glassy look which greyed and dulled their shine. It was a look so spooked Ceroba knew he was feeling something... unreal, questioning the sensations that stung too much. Halfway between dissociation and a full-on panic attack. It was the kind of sight, the kind of feeling, one got when they were still halfway between the waking world and the unconscious.

Ceroba'd seen it before, albeit never this bad. She'd seen it in Kanako's, and even Chujin's eyes more than once. It was that expression you had when you awoke from a particularly bad nightmare. The expression, the feeling that came when you were still unsure if you were safe, if what you'd just been through was over- or if it had happened at all. A danger that permeated your mind even after you knew it had passed, a wrenching feeling that everything was too real and too painful in the dream and that the safety that welcomed you when waking was all too fake. Ceroba could describe it because she was sure she'd been there, too, she was sure that there were times when Starlo had seen something like that in her eyes when she'd stayed with the Five, even if she'd brushed him off every time assuring them she was fine.

It was in that moment that something Ceroba had desperately forced from her mind for as long as she could break its way back into her thoughts. She had to force the discomfort, the guilt, and the overwhelming sense of shame down and make herself keep her eyes on Clover's own because she needed to feel the weight of what she'd done, she knew she did. She didn't have any right to hide behind shame and discomfort now. Her ears folded to the top of her head and she felt like crumpling as she embraced the knowledge that Clover was a child. Ceroba had buried all her guilt, all her sorrow and all her doubt as best she could behind the thought of finally making things right, and behind the knowledge that Clover was a human.

It was that thought which had allowed her to press forward with her intent to kill, that Clover was one of those same humans who trapped them here. A human like the one that could have killed Kanako that day in Snowdin. A human that, just as Chujin had told her and others that humans were, was dangerous. But no amount of push for the memory of her loved ones, no amount of debasement or justifications could overcome the fact Clover was, human or not, a child. She didn't even think he was older than Kanako was when she'd fallen down. All that time, all those moments when she'd doubted her actions, she'd focused on the fact that Clover's humanity doomed him to die. She'd judged him as if he was as old as her, as jaded, as hurt. As if, like her, he was a killer.

But now, Ceroba knew she couldn't have been more wrong as a fresh wave of despair hit her. Clover wasn't like her, he wasn't a killer, he wasn't anything but Clover. Clover was good, Clover was selfless. Clover was a child. She'd tried to kill a child. A child so kind and so considerate, so determined to do what was right in every situation, for all the creatures he encountered. She'd called that naive because she couldn't bear to think of that as what it really was; the genuine and Just nature of a child so pure that someone drowning in sins like her couldn't comprehend it... someone like Kanako. So much like Kanako, she had never wanted to see it, never wanted to consider that she was doing it again.

Ceroba heard her breathing stagger before she felt it happen, a testament to both her state of mind and the physical toll of the long fight. The struggle to contain the shudder of revulsion that wracked her now, the new wave of tears threatening to leak from her eyes accompanied by several low sobs bit down to whimpers with as much restraint as she could muster. On one end, she didn't want Clover to hear, didn't want to grieve pathetically like she had the right in front of the real victim here. But on the other, she thought... let Clover hear her. Let him hear her sins and all that she had to be ashamed of as she drowned in tears. She knew she had to apologize, even in such a menial form, anything to appease her guilt. Even though she knew it wouldn't be worth anything, that it wasn't enough, Ceroba still felt like she had to do it, she had to say it, no matter how little it truly meant.

"I-I'm so sorry Clover..."

Clover still seemed in shock... in that state of terror which prevented him from fully grasping things in the here and now, and turned his gaze back to the ground. But Ceroba continued.

"I know that... apology, that'll never be enough... I know..."

Ceroba shook her head, gently swaying side to side, her breath hitching as she caught the sight of her friends incapacitated and hurt. Hurt because of her.

'Starlo... Martlet...'

The fox's gaze centered back on the child still in front of her.

'...and Clover...'

They all just wanted to help her, they all wanted to make things alright. Starlo had never given up on her, even when he knew her darkest secrets, even when he knew what she intended. Martlet just wanted for everything to be alright, between them, between her and Starlo, between her and Clover... she'd believed the best in her, sought her out even if she must've been told what was on those tapes that the others had seen. Clover too, Ceroba couldn't imagine them keeping it from him, since he was the one in danger. Yet she knew, as scatterbrained as the guard was, Martlet wouldn't have led him here blindly. Clover must have known, too, must have chosen to come here. Because he cared about Starlo... not because he cared about her. To think Clover cared about her after knowing what she wanted to do to him was laughable. But even still... he'd come because he'd cared, and he'd known what she wanted of him, known it was dangerous. Maybe he'd thought she could still be talked down, he certainly seemed surprised at her sudden attack... at least until the fight started, then he'd slipped into it like it was routine. 

Starlo, Martlet, Clover... they'd all believed in her, even at her worst. Foolishly, naively, perhaps, but they still had.

Yet Ceroba had betrayed them all. Hurt them all.

Now nobody would ever believe in her again, and she knew she deserved that.

"I've done terrible things... unforgivable things..."

Ceroba reached up with a shaky arm as much as she leaned down, still unwilling to let go of the objects in her arms, using the sleeve of her kimono to wipe the tears from her face. Clover raised his head slightly at her words, but she couldn't see his eyes, concealed by the brim of his hat.

"To you..."

Ceroba gestured to her unconscious friends with two tilts of her head, Clover's gaze, even lowered to the floor and unfocused, following her motions as she did.

"...to them..."

Ceroba shivered as she let her head sag, her gaze, and her tears, falling upon the broken staff and shattered mask in her arms. She closed her eyes, gulped down air let out one shaky, uneven breath, and let her voice fall so low it was a miracle Clover heard it.

"...to my family."

But he did hear it, somehow she just... knew. Her voice was so weak, weak like glass, weaker than Ceroba thought it had been since Kanako had... since Ceroba had made her worst error. She found her vision returning as she opened her eyes, head still downturned, the broken ceramics, and snapped pieces of wood in her arms again reminding her of the way things are now. It was over. All over.

"I've destroyed everything I've ever cared about... burnt every bridge I've ever crossed and... and hurt anyone who's ever cared about me..."

Ceroba chuckled bitterly in between silent heaves and choked gasps, desperate for air as her as something coiled and knotted inside her throat. It was a dead sound, a hurt sound, totally without mirth or anything resembling positivity.

"All chasing... chasing a chance... a chance to make it all mean something..."

All of her shook at once, and she swallowed that lump, that unbelievable tension in her throat as best she could.

"...and now, my life is over... there's nothing left for me..."

Clover seemed to steady at her words, just a little, but she could barely see him now, for she... she didn't want to look. She didn't want to do this anymore. It had been so long since she'd seen her child, so long since she'd seen her love. It had been so long since Ceroba felt happy to wake up every morning, knowing there was hope in her life. There was so much weight, so much pressure to make what had once been real again, to make sure nobody forgot her family... and now it had crushed her fully. There was no chance of fulfilling Chujin's wish, no chance of getting Kanako back.

Because Ceroba knew she'd never be able to bring herself to hurt Clover again, never. No matter what it was, no matter the reason she- the very thought repulsed her now, after hurting him so much that she could recognize the trauma in his eyes, there was no chance she could do it. She didn't want to, she couldn't take another child from this world before their time. She couldn't let her stupidity, her rash need to fulfill Chujin's dream when she always knew she was unfit to do so, claim another victim. She wasn't going to hurt them ever again... she wasn't going to hurt Clover, she wasn't going to hurt Starlo... and she wasn't going to see her daughter again, she wasn't going to complete Chujin's legacy.

Ceroba breathed deeply. There was only one thing left for her, only one thing she knew left that awaited her. Everything else was gone, her friendships, her family... her only purpose left. There was nothing, nobody. No way back, no way forward, only misery and...

"Clover... I-"

Clover's head raised a little more, and she could just make out their brilliant yellow eyes, still afraid... but filled with something else she couldn't place. Something uncertain, yet not that same pain, not the worry from before, not the constant fear and concern that came with not knowing. But something... softer. Ceroba could barely bring herself to do it, to ask of this child to fulfill her final, selfish request.

"I-I don't want to do this anymore."

Ceroba saw something hitch in Clover's throat, his breathing stalled for a moment, and that soft, uncertainty in his eyes morphed rapidly into recognition, something seeming to click for the cowboy and... and Ceroba knew he knew. Something about those words... resonated with Clover, and that hurt Ceroba, that hurt Ceroba because this child who was so pure, who'd done all he could to make things right even for everyone even the brief time she'd known him, grasped her feelings with what must have been empathy, he understood what she meant in a way far too familiar for comfort.

"I know it's selfish of me but... I'm tired, I want to rest now, Clover... I-"

Clover's eyes went from recognition to even greater fear than before. Not the same kind of before, no, not the same lack of safety that had pervaded the small human's whole being. This time it was dread, pure and simple dread, an imminent anxiety that visibly grew all across Clover's face. It hurt her, it kept hurting her, it kept haunting her that she was still tormenting this child even when she was trying to bring an end to it. Ceroba beat back her stresses, as she'd done many a time before, and gave what she, in that moment, wished to be her final request.

"Do what needs to be done."

It took a few moments, it seemed, for the weight of those words to fully settle in Clover's mind. But when they did, the fear present in the human's demeanor morphed into terror. The child's lip seemed to quiver, and his features grew panicked, but it seemed he couldn't muster any words at all to her own despite his sudden desperation. Ceroba knew it would be difficult, she'd been on the other end of this situation at the start of their fight, only Clover didn't want it to end, and she was a far, far worse being than he.

"I've done terrible things, Clover... I've hurt you, I've hurt Starlo, and Martlet, and-"

Ceroba's posture slumped completely, there was no point being sensitive about her wounds now.

"You saw what I did to Kanako, to my own daughter. You know I deserve it. Aren't you angry, Clover, aren't you Just?"

The fox monster raised her head to meet his, and she saw Clover flinch back at the sudden movement. Ah, he was still scared of her. Her heart twinged, but she tried her best to put on as best of a smile as she could. It was broken, faux, unconvincing. She didn't need to see herself to know that. Ceroba tried to put on her best reassuring tone, though she knew it wouldn't truly be so in her current state. She thought back to all the times Kanako had been afraid, whenever she'd been doubtful... all the times she'd needed her to be there after her father had passed. She did the best she could.

"It's ok Clover, this... It's for the best."

Clover's pupils themselves seemed to shake, warping in the dim light of New Home. His hands shook too, and after a second or two he closed his eyes and whimpered, a sound that made Ceroba's heart twinge as another drop of agony was added to the pool that had already formed to swallow her whole. The cowboy shook his head slowly back and forth, and she could see him struggling to speak, mouthing 'no' over and over again. Ceroba held her emotions back again and tried to force her words through, holding on to the dim hope that there could be some form of closure in this. She just wanted to rest... she didn't want to be here when Starlo woke up. She didn't want to be here when the last people in her life would leave her.

"It's okay, this has been a long time coming. Just... please let me have this."

Clover shook his head harder, she couldn't tell if he was still crying, he'd clenched his eyes shut tighter and balled his fists. Then, barely above the smallest whisper, Clover spoke.

"No..."

It was choked, something between a whimper, a statement, and a plea. It was so small, so.. sad, and yet... it didn't change how Ceroba felt.

"Clover, please-"

"No!"

Ceroba was startled by the sudden rise in Clover's voice, he'd torn his head up to meet her gaze. The human's face was tense, his lips pulled back, quivering gently, and his eyes were still filled with fear... they were still fragile, but something about them was wild and desperate. It was a look that was so foreign to her on the face of a child, and yet she knew she was responsible for it. She knew she had messed him up this bad, whether it was just the fight, the betrayal, or what she was doing now on top of it, this was her fault. Even in trying to end it, Ceroba was still as selfish as ever.

"M-Miss Ceroba, please... nobody needs to... needs to d-die..."

"Clover, there's nothing left-"

"You have them!"

Again, Ceroba wasn't prepared for the sheer desperation in Clover's voice, it sounded more like he was pleading for his own life rather than hers with how fierce, how afraid he sounded of the very thought of it. Clover's eyes darted frantically between her and Starlo, then to Martlet and back, his breathing becoming panicked.

"Y-You have Starlo and... and you've got the four and-"

Clover drew his tightly clenched, shaking hands to his head and seemed to be torn between placing them upon it and hitting something. Ceroba thought about Starlo... about her childhood friend, about how much he'd... miss her hate her when he woke up and saw Clover, battered and burned. After she'd hit him, knocked him out cold, hurt her old friend in the name of killing a child, a child who was his friend, a child who she'd betrayed, after everything she'd done she- none of them would accept her back.

"Clover, they... they won't even want to see me again after everything, what I've done is unforgivable, it's- it's something I can't come back from..."

Clover sniffled and shook his head again, his disbelief evident, his desperation only slightly mitigated by the continued conversation.

"No... I know that ain't true. Starlo- he didn't chase you down 'cause he hated you... he-"

Clover stopped shaking his head, taking a moment to catch his breath, breathing deep and taking a pause, then continued.

"O-Of course, he was upset about what you were gonna do to me. But he- he was worried 'bout you too! He..."

Clover stopped again, and she heard him sniffle as the topic itself seemed to tear into his voice like a vicious, jagged blade before he caught himself and corrected that sudden drop.

"E-Everyone was, we all were..."

Clover met her gaze directly with his own. The usually sparkling, yellow eyes of the cowpoke were far duller than she was used to, filled with something she couldn't quite read within. There was so much there, so much she couldn't understand, so many emotions that seemed to shift to others and change meaning with each second-

"I-I was."

Oh. Oh. Oh God. Just when Ceroba thought she couldn't hate herself more about everything, she just had to hear that from the child who she'd tried to murder in cold blood. Yeah, and she was picking a great time for self-pity too... way to go, Ceroba, awful as ever.

"Oh, Clover I... you-"

"I know! I-I know..."

Clover stumbled over his words in a desperate hurry to cut her off, as if she knew what she was going to say and didn't want to hear it. Ceroba internally winced at the thought... the topic of her trying to kill him was obviously sensitive, who wouldn't find that sensitive? The human finally found a place for his hands, as he brought them together and wrung them out in the other hand in front of his stomach. The cowpoke was clearly uncomfortable, not just sad or afraid but... unhappy just being here. Having to do this with her- because of her.

"I know you- I know you d-didn't-"

For a moment, Clover stopped and froze in a moment that seemed... difficult, not to collect his thoughts but as if what he was getting ready to say was... hard, she had a feeling of what he was going to say before he even got the words out.

"...you didn't really wanna h-hurt me. If there was another way I-I know you woulda..."

Yet as much as Clover spoke, there was so much uncertainty in Clover's voice, something that cracked with each syllable, each stutter more pain than awkwardness, which told her that Clover was having a hard time saying that- believing that which he just spoke. Yet, now it was Ceroba's turn to shake her head in a solemn disagreement. Clover was afraid of her for good reason because she'd had the intent to kill. She hadn't been happy about it... truthfully she didn't know if it was only the memories that had reduced her to tears even as she made her last stand- her last attempt at murder, but she knew that she'd seen those memories many times before, and she'd never quite broke like that. The widow hated that she was trying to kill, most of all to kill Clover, yet she still tried to anyway. Ceroba still knew what she was doing.

"No, Clover, there were always other options I... I chose to do what I did. It's my fault, and I chose to... to hurt you."

Clover averted his gaze, and a bit of that earlier fogginess, that fear, returned to them. As she saw that same light glaze developing in the cowpoke's eyes, shrouding their xanthous color in a forlorn expression, Ceroba sighed sadly.

"But I'll never make that choice again- I couldn't, even if I wanted to, even if it means giving up on what Chujin would have wanted."

Ceroba's heart sunk for a moment, but she'd long learned how to hide her pain by this point. She'd spent many a night with no privacy, no room for her moping and endless self-pity. So she just... pretended it didn't exist, even in her moment of greatest vulnerability. She wouldn't crack when it so clearly hurt Clover, she'd hurt him enough in so many ways, she could bear being a little... closed, if it meant providing some comfort in these dire moments. It didn't change the reality though, didn't change what she had to say.

"Clover, now that I've given up on taking your Soul... things will never move forward, I'll never finish what he started... I'll never make any of it mean anything. Just as many things can never go back to how they were before I tried all this and... I wasn't happy before either."

For once, Clover didn't respond. They didn't shake or try to speak up, they didn't do much of anything but lift their head, listen... listen, and look at her with those sad, sad eyes, still full of that glaze of fear and the ever-evolving blend of emotions that swirled in those windows of the Soul, emotions Ceroba couldn't quite discern.

"I'm... I'm a relic living in a time past her own. I have nothing to live for, no reason to go on. I'm... I'm not happy, I haven't been since I lost her and... and I don't think I ever will be."

Ceroba took one last look at the mask and staff in her arms and, sighing, stored them away with her magic. She'd... she'd sort them out later. It was strange to be counting on one's death one second, then to realize she still had to plan for the future the next. It was clear by now Clover wasn't going to be her end, and she should have expected as much. If anyone was going to take Ceroba's life, it'd have to be her... but the thought of what that might do to Starlo held her back from considering it as an option wholesale.

"I need it to all be over, Clover. I'm tired of drowning in... this, this whole thing. I'm tired of living without a tomorrow. I can't live right, I can't even do what my husband wanted of me and-"

"But what do you want?"

Clover spoke up, not shaking, not so unsure anymore. He was still... off, she could see the hint of fear on his face buried behind a poor attempt at a mask. The situation, all of it, and probably her presence most of all, still made Clover afraid, and she couldn't blame him, but he'd evidently tried his best to keep it beat down and smothered just as she had.

"I... I can't pretend to know what it's like. I've never had much in the way of... that."

Clover weakly gestured to the air, the vague 'that' leaving Ceroba unsure of what he'd meant. Loss? Expectation?

Family?

Either way, Clover kept going.

"I never knew your family... I don't know for sure, but from what you've told me- from what others have told me, as much as they might have wanted you to do something or another... they never meant for you to end up like t-this."

Ceroba... didn't know how to feel about that. Most of her said Clover was wrong, that, of course, Chujin wanted her to finish his work... that he'd want her to save their little girl, no matter the cost, even if she couldn't, wouldn't anymore. But there was another part that knew that her obsession had gone too far, Kanako was proof of that. There would have been no daughter to need to save if Ceroba hadn't ignored Chujin's last wish, to keep her out of it. Then there was Kanako herself... oh Kanako, she- she would have hated to see her like this. She knew Kanako had always done everything she could, even in her limited capacity as a child, to cheer her up after Chujin had passed.

Kanako wouldn't have wanted her to be like this, even as much as she wanted to save her. Something told her that Chujin wouldn't either, that as much as he'd wanted to protect Kanako- to protect Monsterkind, he'd never want her to be so miserable. Ceroba had thought about this before, she'd questioned if her devotion to this ideal was truly what her family wanted of her... what her husband wanted of her. But it'd always come back to that last tape, that one painful reminder, the video. Back to Chujin's intense desire that she continue what he'd started. But Chujin had only ever wanted to protect Kanako... was it... was it really that severe? That dogmatic?

If Chujin had been able to meet someone like Clover, if Chujin had truly been able to see how a human could be, would he have still been so determined in that side of his work? Would he have wanted her to slave away like this, devoted to something that might not have been necessary had he seen what she had seen in this small human? Before, she'd say that, of course, Chujin wanted it, that he needed to know his girl was safe, that everyone would be safe. But now... after seeing Clover's kindness firstpaw, she questioned that. Chujin wasn't her, and he certainly wasn't Asgore. Her husband was a kind soul, whatever others might say about him, and Ceroba questioned if Chujin had been here today, seeing how kind of a spirit could be found in this child so determined to do the right thing, would he have given up his quest knowing humans might not be so dangerous after all? Knowing that Monsterkind might be safe- that Kanako might be safe?

Ceroba didn't know, she didn't know, but-

"Now like I said, I didn't know your family, so maybe I'm just spittin' nonsense here, but-"

Clover adjusted his hat, which she hadn't noticed was sitting slightly slouched on his head until now, and spoke up louder, clearer... more confidently.

"What I do know is that all the folks around today who know you... they just wouldn't be the same without ya."

Ceroba felt something small growing in her chest at the sentiment, something small and... warm. She'd never been truly happy, and she'd never had that deeper meaning, that contentment, from before everything had happened back. But had she really been that miserable? Had her life truly lost so much meaning? Starlo... that loveable idiot, what would he do without her? He'd thought so strongly he'd hate her for what she'd become... what she had to do, but all he'd ever wanted was to keep her happy, to help her move on. He'd admitted as much. The Four... the townsfolk... they'd all taken her in, embraced her like they'd known her for years, and they'd never missed a moment to cheer her up, to make her feel welcome. She'd fled from that house, from her own demons, and expected to spend an eternity alone, and found a whole host of open arms instead.

But she'd never been herself, they were just... attached, attached to her former self. To her persona of normality, to the one who pretended she hadn't murdered her child to get along with others, to make the days bearable. Would they have treated her the same way if they knew what she did? Would they have ever looked at her that way if they truly knew her, knew what she'd done... what she'd become? Ceroba's tone was low, and bitter, yet without hostility.

"They just felt bad for me, Clover, it was nothing more than that. They would have done it for anyone, I'm nothing special. Besides... if they knew what I'd done..."

Clover, still speaking in low tones himself, didn't seem to want to let her think on that sentiment, nor to consider it himself.

"Now I agree with ya that lots of those folks in the Wild East are kind as can be, I'm sure they'd help anyone who really needed it, just like you say."

But then Clover shook his head. There was still unease to him, still a discomfort she knew was associated with her that made speaking a little more difficult, but she could tell he believed what he was saying.

"But to act like that is all it was? That Starlo and the Four, who did all they did in part just to try and make ya happy, were simply doin' what they did cause they were decent?"

Clover tilted his head a little and gave Ceroba what could best be described as a sad smile. It wasn't fake, it wasn't forced like her earlier smile had been, just tired and uneasy like Clover was struggling to decide if he was happy in that moment or not.

"That's just plain wrong."

Clover, finally, began to stand up. His legs were shaky, and it took far longer than someone of a human's strength should have to do the simple act of standing. Even as he stood, Ceroba could see the frailness in him, of body and of spirit, he was exhausted in every sense. Then, still, in his body language, in the slight off-tone to the way he spoke, she could feel that same bit of fear. He was covering it up, he was suffocating it as best he could, but there was still that inherent unease to his whole being, a discomfort. The way he crossed his arms over his stomach in a defensive, pacifying behavior, the way he immediately took a little step back, distancing himself from her the moment he could, even if only slightly. The fox could tell he was still  nervous beyondbelief, afraid... afraid of her. Yet, he was still doing this for her, for the one who'd hurt him so grievously... why?

"Plenty of people love havin' you around Miss Ceroba, they just miss seeing ya happy is all. Miss seein' you how ya used to be. They just... they want that back, y'know?"

Ceroba knew... knew Clover was right about that. She didn't doubt Star or the Four or any of the people around town wanted her to be happy, wanted to see her like she used to be back before everything, before Chujin and before Kanako had both been lost to her. Ceroba knew she wasn't a happy person now, she knew she was a better person then, a brighter person, and certainly someone much nicer to be around. She knew all that, but the fox doubted she could ever go back to being that person again. There had been too much pain- too much dust and too much emptiness to sweep away and go back.

"...and... and what if I can't go back to how I used to be? What if that monster no longer exists?"

Clover considered her words for a moment, but the human ultimately gave an answer with more clarity in his voice than she had heard thus far, seeming to grow in confidence and steady composure with every passing word.

"That's ok, too... not all of us can just... go back, not after what we've seen, what we've been through... what we've done."

Ceroba could hear... something in the human's voice. An almost somber sense of... solidarity? It was almost like Clover was speaking from experience, and perhaps he was, Ceroba certainly knew that what Clover had been through in the Underground wasn't easy, far from it, and the countless near-death experiences would shake anyone. In that way, Ceroba could recognize Clover's angle, and she appreciated it, even if she'd been a part of making that trauma with which he must relate to her.

"All I know is... you ain't really been living as yourself, or with yourself, have you? You haven't been able to live with yourself, so you've buried yourself up to here in an idea- a mission, more than a lil' obsession, the only way you knew to make it easier."

For Clover being a child, that was... frighteningly spot on for a topic such as this, something that should have been out of any child's reach or range of knowledge. But Ceroba supposed Clover had definitely been through more than most children would at his age, and he was certainly a good Judge of character. So maybe, just maybe, what he said next, she truly took to heart.

"It ain't easy... comin' to terms with all that hurt, I know. But you gotta start living with yourself again, you gotta start living as yourself again. I don't think anyone who's ever cared 'bout you would want ya to live like this."

Clover's sad smile seemed to get just a little brighter, and she saw some of his unease drain from his being as he spoke, like the words comforted him as much as they did her.

"It might take some time, and of course, you're gonna change some, but it's still you in the end, and I know plenty of monsters who've been missin' you Miss Ceroba, so maybe you should give livin' as you again a try?

There was a moment of silence before Ceroba felt her own muzzle tug upwards in a soft smile. She was crying again, just a little, but those weren't sad tears... not entirely. To come from Clover, after everything, even in the face of Clover's evident fear... it meant a lot. Ceroba knew Clover meant it, even if he was being corralled by his fears to not be as open or enthusiastic about it as he might like. The fact that despite all she'd done to him, all the fear he must've still felt of her, all her horrible misdeeds... and the fact she still knew even after listening to Clover that she probably deserved far worse than this... Clover believed in her. For the first time in a while, Ceroba thought that maybe... maybe there was another way forward, another way without the need for dust or blood. She didn't know how that kid did it, but she knew she respected the hell out of him even more now.

More than that, more than feeling like perhaps she could move on, could live again... something welled up in Ceroba. This child- this pure, innocent Soul who was willing to forgive even someone as flawed as her, she was going to make up for all she'd done to him. Perhaps it was selfish, hypocritical even, to take Clover up on the advice to forget living for a "mission" and then to feel the way she was now all the same but... Ceroba knew that if there was one thing that was surfacing in her mind that she could count as a real reason to live again...

It was that she could redeem herself, that she could repent for all she'd done. Ceroba could never wash away the dust on her paws, the blood she'd almost has on them too, could never sweep away the sins crawling on her back. But, perhaps Clover was right... she could find a new reason to live, to live as herself...

...and right now that reason that seemed most evident was to ensure Clover would never end up like Kanako.

"Clover, I don't know what to say... All I can give is... thank you, thank you, and... and I'm sorry, I promise I'll-"

"Ceroba..."

Oh. She'd almost forgotten about that.