Blazblue Fanfic
Outside the shack, a chill wind brought more snowflakes to the already buried Russian soil. Tager sat by the fire, beneath a blanket, trying, but failing, to warm up. It didn't help when the door swung open behind him, allowing the bitter cold to once again nip at his back.
He huddled down further in his chair, not bothering to look up. Any movement would ruin the tight cocoon that he had constructed; anyway, he had no doubts as to who had entered.
Few who saw Tager now would recognize the bulk in front of the fire as the great superman of the Revolutionaries. When standing, he was nearly eight feet tall; a great statue, face burned red from the cold. He towered over Lenin at the rallies, carrying the hammer that only he could lift, and daring anyone to interfere.
Now, the only concession to his stature was the fact that the chair he sat in looked as if it had been constructed by a child.
The door swung shut again, and heavy bootfalls landed behind him.
Without looking away from the fire, Tager spoke, in a voice barely above a whisper. "I could kill you, you know."
There was silence from behind him, so he continued.
"I could kill you, and put an end to all this. I'm tired of this never-ending winter. It's snowed every day since February."
"You can't," came the reply from behind him. "You can't, because I own you."
"Lenin owns me," Tager said. "Kokonoe owns me."
"Lenin owns your heart. Kokonoe owns your mind. I own something deeper..."
Jin leaned forward, and wrapped his arms around Tager's neck, letting his hands drop down beneath Tager's blanket. His golden hair fell into Tager's view as he put his mouth to Tager's ear and whispered.
"I own your soul."
There was another long silence as Jin nuzzled against Tager's ear. Tager stared straight ahead, thoughtful.
"I've seen your brother," Tager whispered, just loud enough to be heard.
Jin let go of Tager suddenly, as if bitten, and stepped backward.
"No..." Jin said. "My brother is dead."
Tager smiled. It was a victory, if only a small one. "He carries a sickle, and has been burning down Tsarist strongholds. He calls himself the Bloodedge."
Jin gasped. "Ragna. The Bloodedge. Ha. Haha. Hahaha."
Jin began to laugh. It wasn't normal laughter, but a kind of desperate barking, as if he were having convulsions that he couldn't control.
"I'll kill him," he said, interspersed with the laughter. "I'll kill him, I'll kill him I'll kill him I'LL KILL HIM!"
"You'll lose," Tager said, still staring at the fire.
There was a whisper of steel, and the room suddenly went very cold. Tager stood, squared his shoulders, and turned to Jin.
Jin was panting hard, eyes darkened by the hair that fell in front of his face. His sword was drawn, and clutched in both hands. The tip was pointed directly at Tager's throat.
"This is the dawning of a new age of science and rationality," Tager said. "We have no more need of Tsars."
The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, before they pierced their way into Jin's mind. The tension seemed to drain out of him, and he stood up straight, sheathing his sword. He smiled at Tager.
It wasn't a nice smile.
"You'll always need Tsars," he said. "You need someone to order you. You're peasants. You can't be blamed for it."
"You're wrong," Tager said. He stared into Jin's eyes.
"Then why are you here?"
It was Tager's turn to step backward. He sank back into his chair, cradling his head in his massive palms.
Jin walked over to him, and set his hand down on Tager's shoulder. "Come to bed," he said.
Tager turned away.
"Come to bed," Jin said again, and there was steel in his voice.
Outside, the wind howled through the night with the force of a gale. Around Russia, those who had blankets pulled them tightly around themselves. Those who didn't woke up with white burns on their skin.
In the morning, Jin awoke wrapped in the huge cradle of Tager's muscles. He pulled himself free, and stood up. He dressed in his military uniform, without a jacked or hat. He strapped his sword to his side, and stepped into his boots.
Tager awoke with a shiver as Jin pulled the door free. He blinked slowly, trying to clear his vision.
Jin turned to him. "I left you a present," he said. "It's outside in the snow, so it should be well preserved. Goodbye, Tager." He gave Tager an evil grin, and then shut the door behind him.
Panic began to rise in Tager's system. He unfolded from bed, rushing into his coat and hat. He ran out into the snow, and began to dig.
It took him fifteen minutes to find what he was looking for. By that time, he could no longer feel his hands. They had turned as numb as his brain. He lowered them to the ground, and sagged.
"Litchi," he whispered, as his eyes froze. He wiped at them with his coat sleeve, trying to clear them out.
Then he walked back inside, closed the door, and held his hands over the fire, defrosting them. He would need them, if he was going to find Jin. He picked up the hammer that was laying by the door, and walked out across the snow.
He huddled down further in his chair, not bothering to look up. Any movement would ruin the tight cocoon that he had constructed; anyway, he had no doubts as to who had entered.
Few who saw Tager now would recognize the bulk in front of the fire as the great superman of the Revolutionaries. When standing, he was nearly eight feet tall; a great statue, face burned red from the cold. He towered over Lenin at the rallies, carrying the hammer that only he could lift, and daring anyone to interfere.
Now, the only concession to his stature was the fact that the chair he sat in looked as if it had been constructed by a child.
The door swung shut again, and heavy bootfalls landed behind him.
Without looking away from the fire, Tager spoke, in a voice barely above a whisper. "I could kill you, you know."
There was silence from behind him, so he continued.
"I could kill you, and put an end to all this. I'm tired of this never-ending winter. It's snowed every day since February."
"You can't," came the reply from behind him. "You can't, because I own you."
"Lenin owns me," Tager said. "Kokonoe owns me."
"Lenin owns your heart. Kokonoe owns your mind. I own something deeper..."
Jin leaned forward, and wrapped his arms around Tager's neck, letting his hands drop down beneath Tager's blanket. His golden hair fell into Tager's view as he put his mouth to Tager's ear and whispered.
"I own your soul."
There was another long silence as Jin nuzzled against Tager's ear. Tager stared straight ahead, thoughtful.
"I've seen your brother," Tager whispered, just loud enough to be heard.
Jin let go of Tager suddenly, as if bitten, and stepped backward.
"No..." Jin said. "My brother is dead."
Tager smiled. It was a victory, if only a small one. "He carries a sickle, and has been burning down Tsarist strongholds. He calls himself the Bloodedge."
Jin gasped. "Ragna. The Bloodedge. Ha. Haha. Hahaha."
Jin began to laugh. It wasn't normal laughter, but a kind of desperate barking, as if he were having convulsions that he couldn't control.
"I'll kill him," he said, interspersed with the laughter. "I'll kill him, I'll kill him I'll kill him I'LL KILL HIM!"
"You'll lose," Tager said, still staring at the fire.
There was a whisper of steel, and the room suddenly went very cold. Tager stood, squared his shoulders, and turned to Jin.
Jin was panting hard, eyes darkened by the hair that fell in front of his face. His sword was drawn, and clutched in both hands. The tip was pointed directly at Tager's throat.
"This is the dawning of a new age of science and rationality," Tager said. "We have no more need of Tsars."
The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, before they pierced their way into Jin's mind. The tension seemed to drain out of him, and he stood up straight, sheathing his sword. He smiled at Tager.
It wasn't a nice smile.
"You'll always need Tsars," he said. "You need someone to order you. You're peasants. You can't be blamed for it."
"You're wrong," Tager said. He stared into Jin's eyes.
"Then why are you here?"
It was Tager's turn to step backward. He sank back into his chair, cradling his head in his massive palms.
Jin walked over to him, and set his hand down on Tager's shoulder. "Come to bed," he said.
Tager turned away.
"Come to bed," Jin said again, and there was steel in his voice.
Outside, the wind howled through the night with the force of a gale. Around Russia, those who had blankets pulled them tightly around themselves. Those who didn't woke up with white burns on their skin.
In the morning, Jin awoke wrapped in the huge cradle of Tager's muscles. He pulled himself free, and stood up. He dressed in his military uniform, without a jacked or hat. He strapped his sword to his side, and stepped into his boots.
Tager awoke with a shiver as Jin pulled the door free. He blinked slowly, trying to clear his vision.
Jin turned to him. "I left you a present," he said. "It's outside in the snow, so it should be well preserved. Goodbye, Tager." He gave Tager an evil grin, and then shut the door behind him.
Panic began to rise in Tager's system. He unfolded from bed, rushing into his coat and hat. He ran out into the snow, and began to dig.
It took him fifteen minutes to find what he was looking for. By that time, he could no longer feel his hands. They had turned as numb as his brain. He lowered them to the ground, and sagged.
"Litchi," he whispered, as his eyes froze. He wiped at them with his coat sleeve, trying to clear them out.
Then he walked back inside, closed the door, and held his hands over the fire, defrosting them. He would need them, if he was going to find Jin. He picked up the hammer that was laying by the door, and walked out across the snow.