Archive of Our Own ^beta

He remembers that moment, where it all started. A flash of memory, a scene from an undefined time. His sister, the only thing standing between him and that group of older kids. His eyes watery, his cheek already starting to bruise. Carmine glares, almost hisses like a cat, and Kieran looks at her while holding her hand. Her yellow eyes are wide, piercing, terrifying. Her presence is enough to scare the bullies away.
She sighs and turns, then ruffles his hair.
"Don't ya worry, Kiki. I'll always be here!"
Kieran looks away.
She smiles for his bashfulness.
He frowns for it instead.

That night, he pretends that their places were switched. He imagines those older kids looking at him with such scared eyes. Sees bruises getting darker and darker on their skin. Feels his own knuckles hurt.
He goes to sleep with a smile on his face, not thinking much about the chill going up his spine.

One cold winter night, his sister wakes him up with a mischievous grin. As moonlight shines through the closed window, she tells him the story of the ogre, the raging monster who hid in the mountains. It was huge, terrifying, so much so that the townspeople didn't dare speak of it. When it attacked the village they call home, the ogre took down three heroes with it before finally being defeated. She talks in a haunted, dramatic tone, acting the scenes out and trying to scare him. Kieran just looks at her with bright, curious eyes.
That ogre must have been so strong if it took so much effort to defeat it! The kid can't help but look up to it and its bravery. Carmine gives up at some point.
"You do realize that the ogre is the bad guy, right?"
But how can that be? It wasn't the ogre's fault that so many people were scared of it. It was marginalized only for existing, yet he fought head on. How can it be the bad guy? He shakes his head vehemently.
She sighs, her brother is still very young after all. It's normal that he can't tell the difference between good and evil.
He'll learn, one day.

From that time, Kieran's gaze constantly falls on Oni Mountain. He sits at the window whenever he can find the time to, trying to see the ogre, who has become his hero. But years pass without a single glimpse of it. Was the tale his sister told him when he was a kid really just a fairytale?
No, that can't be. Kieran's hope hasn't died down, not yet.
And so one night, with his heart in his throat, he sneaks out and ventures into the mountains.

It's odd going around like this, he muses, with nobody at his side. He has to rely on only himself- it's kind of refreshing.
It doesn't take much time for him to start to soak in the placid atmosphere. The cool summer night wind on his skin soothes him, making him somewhat drowsy as well. He wanders aimlessly, feeling watched every now and then. He's not scared, though. Something is driving him forward, deeper into the wilderness, towards a place he had only ever seen from a distance.

When the Dreaded Den comes into sight he snaps out of his trance. He starts fidgeting with his fingers as he walks up the slope that leads to the cave, observing his surroundings. The ogre must be around here, right? He doesn't want to miss it, he doesn't dare blink.

When he's finally standing right in front of the Den's entrance, Kieran rests a hand on the rock wall. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He steels himself and steps in, finding-
nothing.
The small cave is completely empty.
He timidly tries to call for the ogre. His soft voice echoes in the lonely den. He presses on, slowly raising his tone in the process, he didn't come so far to give up now. He calls for it again and again, only to be met with his own voice bouncing off the walls. And as the echoes grow louder, he realizes- he's having fun. He hasn't had so much fun in so, so long. He chuckles, shouts again.
He feels a little insane.
But an unknown pair of eyes is still drilling holes in his skull.
Why not let them watch, then?

He roars, pain claws at his throat but the deafening echo is worth it. Something bubbles under his skin, an electricity he is not used to.
Something new. Finally something new...!
He only stops when he's out of breath. He's left gasping for air and blinks, once, twice. He looks around, as if lost. Well...at least he doesn't feel watched anymore.
But what was that? He hadn't felt like himself for a couple of moments there. No, he had felt like...more.
He sighs, still feeling kind of jittery. He may be unsure of what got into him, but if the ogre hasn't shown by now it's probably not going to, at least not tonight.
And so, after vowing to come back, he leaves, heading home after what only felt like minutes. He doesn't notice the cloak of leaves trembling as he walks past.

When he carefully opens the back door, the light almost blinds him. He hears gasps, someone grabs him by the arm. He looks up- a slap flies across his cheek.
His parents' concerned yelling is what he remembers with most clarity about them.

And maybe that's why the punch he just received feels slightly familiar. He's cornered by a group of young thugs, the same ones who used to pick on him. He tries to take a step back and reaches for Carmine's hand- his sister isn't there. There's no witch to protect her grunt.
He's alone.

He tries to cover his head with his arms, but to no avail. When they finally leave him alone, he doesn't have the strength to stand straight.
And so he stares, at their backs, at the ground, at his bruises. His vision gets clouded by tears.
If he was as strong as the ogre, none of this would have happened. If he was a monster like the ogre, he would be safe.
He would be happy.

But then, like an angel sent from above, they arrive. The exchange student from Paldea arrives and changes literally everything. Kieran is not alone anymore, he finally found someone who understands him. He brings them up to his favourite place, something that he had never done with anyone. Not even Carmine has ever seen the inside of the Den, he's sure of it.

It's perfect. So much so that he can't wrap his head around it yet.
And just when he has started to warm to the idea of having a friend, the illusion shatters into pieces, leaving his skin pierced by tiny gold splinters.
Because the ogre finally showed up, but it chose them. Of course it chose them. He isn't arrogant enough to think that he could have been a better choice than the hero of Paldea. He would have done the same if it were up to him.
He knows.
But he can't accept it. It's selfish. He's selfish. He's a terrible person. No matter what he does, he always ends up like this. Powerless.
Alone.
He can't keep all of it in. He sobs and runs away, his eyes prickling.

The foreign tightness in his chest gradually makes him slow down, but only when he's out of their sight. He doesn't stop though, even if he can't really see where he's going. His vision is blurry and it's not because of the tears. He's staring at nothing, can't put anything around him into focus. Everything becomes a blur of leaves and dirt as he tries to push down the anger looking for an opening to sink its claws into him.
He balls up his hands into fists to fight off the urge to tighten them around his neck instead, just enough for his head to become lighter and maybe stop the raging stream of thoughts he can feel building up in the back of his mind-
Breathe.

But he can't get enough air in his lungs.
With every step a new phrase pops up in his mind. He's so weak he can't even beat someone the one time it matters. And after losing, he ran off, an adequate reaction for someone as pathetic as him.
He gets back home and he's sure nobody spared a single look for him, but he can't be mad, he knows it would have been a waste. A waste, a waste just like him. The ogre- it doesn't have any reason to like him, it should hate him and it does, it's only natural being rejected-
Because
he is
weak.
A frail boy who cannot do anything by himself.

But no, he can't keep on going like this. He can't be weak, not anymore, he doesn't have the luxury of just being anymore.
Because
strength
is all that matters
and he can't just stay put and watch everything be taken from him without putting up a fight. Not again.
The solution had been right in front of him but he had ignored it, and for what? Fear? What is there left to fear if the one thing that wasn't supposed to happen unfolded right under his eyes? If his only dream was stolen in front of him?

And so
restlessness floods him, washing what made Kieran himself away in the process. He has to do something. He has to become stronger, he needs to become or else that will happen again and again but he can't do anything, can he? Not alone. He can't do anything alone but that has to change, it has to change because there is nobody at his side and there won't ever be anyone again because he has been left by everyone that mattered and he is now alone.
Alone.
The word thundered in the cluttered cave his mind has become and he can't think straight he can't-

He shuts himself in his room, the growing vortex of thoughts threatens to swallow him whole. They are countless, too many for him to manage, they run through his head and he can't, he can't concentrate. He can't grab one and try to reason it into submission, into disappearing. Pushing them down isn't helping anymore. He stumbles and sits down on his bed, his gaze as empty as it has to be, because it just needs a crack, a single crack and he would come undone.

Focus. It's okay. It's fine. These are just thoughts, just feelings, it's all in his head, his hands aren't trembling, his heart isn't racing, his mouth isn't twitching. He remembers he has to breathe.

It's okay.

But it's not.
And...is it really such a tragedy that it's not? His sight falters and he closes his eyes.
He starts to
let
go
and his mind goes blank.

Chills shake his body, they break it apart as a wave would do to a sandcastle. They force it to expand, and suddenly he's not just himself anymore. He becomes the stale air in the room. He becomes the nothingness he sees behind his eyelids.
He lets his thoughts wander, unbridled, desire turns into need turns into obsession.
Power.
He slowly nods, pushing his mind because there's no need to hold back anyway, right? He can exaggerate. He can pretend.
Nobody is going to find out either way.

He allows himself to drop his shoulders, his head with them. It's fine if a warped smile pulls at his mouth, he'll be the only one to know. It's fine if he contorts, if his hands crack unnaturally, if the room shifts with his head as it moves in twitches-
Because he is alone
he is free.
Another wave of chills hits him, they wrap around his limbs, his chest, his neck like vines. They crawl up his spine to his head, crackling, making him shiver. He scratches his arms to feel colder.
His chest hurts.
As it should.
Another deep breath, the darkness behind his eyelids turns to static, his lungs wanting to burst. He feels the strain and holds his breath, feeling the pull, his head spinning, feeling feeling feeling.

He doesn't know what's going on.

He's scared.

No- no he isn't.

These are his thoughts. His emotions. It's okay if he loses himself in them, since they're his-
The pain from the scratches flares up and he flinches.
Memories flash in his mind. The inside out stab in his stomach when he daydreamed what it would be like to be the ogre from the stories. To be alone, exhiled in the mountains. To be so strong to be terrifying.
He tenses his arms, curls his fingers into claws. He suddenly becomes hyperaware of his every muscle and oblivious to anything that's not important, to anything that's not him.
I am, he catches himself repeating. And there's no need for him to finish the phrase, a voice in the back of his mind fills it for him- stronger. It sends a jolt of electricity through his veins every single time.
The pain doesn't subside. He grits his teeth, he can feel his eyes becoming wilder by the second.

But he can't keep his arms this tense for much longer. He can't, doesn't want to let go, he can take it just for another moment, a second more, a single one-
No.
He's not strong enough to bear the pain.
Not
yet

He exhales.

And so it stops. He returns to the monotone reality he had grown accustomed to ignoring. He observes the room, his gaze lost, tired. His eyelids are heavy, his arms kind of burn. Kieran falls on the bed which is supposed to be his. He feels exhausted, his heart still drumming in his ears. He idly rubs his hands on his arms to make the pain go away.

He went a little overboard. A little? Euphemism. He chuckles to himself. Maybe he was right that one time in the Den. Maybe he is a little insane.
And would that be as bad as they say?
Well, it wouldn't be the first time an opinion of his differed from the 'normal' one. He had always thought the ogre was good, and he had been proven right. What if he's right this time around too?
The ogre. He hums a low note, but he can't really bring himself to care much about what happened earlier with it. Not when he's this tired.
As he's about to doze off, a shadow of a smile creeps on his face.

A shadow which he will never be able to rid himself of.