Kishino failed. Hundreds of thousands, to millions of lives rested on his weak-ass shoulders, but Kishino had completely disregarded that responsibility and impulsively reached out his hand to some others so he could feel better about himself, putting all the rest at risk. He more than deserved the piercing pain in his left temple, and wished the numerous bruises scattered around his body hurt just as much. It hurt like hell, but because of him others would suffer far, far worse so it was selfish and hypocritical of him to complain. He was an egotist that believed he could do anything, and now there was no telling how many good people might die because of his greedy actions this week. He should just stop pitying himself and try to think of a solution already...
As all these thoughts raced through Kishino’s brain, there was also a different mode of thinking that was buried in the sea of self-hate. The emotionally rational part of him was still there, trying to fight to the surface but getting overwhelmed by the self-demonizing and hypocritical logic. Trying to find a distraction to calm his racing mind, Kishino turned his attention to the voices at the opposite side of the door that were trying and failing to keep themselves down to a whisper. It seemed they’d forgotten that the noise suppressing wards weren’t automatic in this room.
“...Norman-sama, are you really certain that Harold-sama has contracted the Withering?”
“I am absolutely certain. Harold-sama has never touched a phoenix tears potion in his life, and I constantly monitor his aura for any significant changes. If you treat him for phoenix burn, it is extremely likely that it will have adverse effects on his body!”
“You can’t make that kind of decision without his parents’ consent-”
“Do you think those people care about their sick child as much as they care about their slighted pride!? The only thing about Harold-sama that matters to them is how he can make them look good!”
“That’s…sigh, fine. I’ll just do some basic healing and wait for Harold-sama to wake up for his opinion.”
Kishino clenched his fists under the sheets and grimaced. Harold’s shame and outrage surged within him, and he had to hold himself back from marching up to the door and shouting at Norman. Kishino himself was impressed at Norman’s rage and care for Harold, but it was also somewhat awkward and emotionally confusing. It felt to him like a strange mix of ‘listening to your best friend’s parents arguing with each other,’ and ‘listening to your own parents having an argument’ with just a dash of ‘listening to your teacher defend you against your parents and only half-agreeing’. The analogy still wasn’t perfect, but thinking about parents sent his negative self-thoughts in the direction of thinking about his own mom and dad, and any other thoughts plummeted into the stabbing black hole within his solar plexus. The thoughts made Kishino realize that he was alone in this world, with only the ten year old he possessed even being aware of his existence in the first place. There was no one left in Kishino’s life that loved or cared about him; everyone that did was back in Japan or the US.
“It’s just… I was sure that losing aura strength was a late symptom…”
“Well pardon my impudence, but I’m not willing to risk Harold-sama’s health on your memory. It will be your responsibility if he gets worse.”
“R-right. I guess I should get started then. Please don’t enter until I finish, alright?”
Kishino felt a physical shock run through his body with a realization; he’d answered to Harold's name for so long that he’d almost forgotten, but when people said ‘Harold’, they didn't mean him, they meant the ten year old. No one in this world had even called him by his own name yet.
It was an irrational and pointless thought, and Kishino knew it didn’t actually mean anything. People interacted with him all the time, and in ways the original Harold never would have. He’d built relationships with tons of people, whether the other party knew it or not, and they’d no doubt realize something was wrong if Kishino suddenly left Harold to fend for himself. But just the thought alone that everything until now had just been a facade, and all of those feelings from everyone were only attached to the mask he wore just hurt in a way that was almost impossible to describe.
I...don’t even fucking belong here. The literal only reason I’m here is to ‘fix’ the future, and I just made it freaking worse! Great job, me.
Kishino kept his eyes closed as the doctor placed his hands over the wounds and began to chant. A warm, tingling sensation almost impossible to describe filled his body, and healing magic flowed through his impared spirit and trickled into his wounds. Naturally, he wasn’t wearing a shirt so as to make the healing as efficient and accurate as possible.
Kishino didn’t know whether to be grateful or spiteful that his clothing was removed, due to the freezing cold and unbearable heat battling for dominance within his body. He tensed and nearly flinched as his shivering aggravated his bruised, slowly healing body, but he managed to suppress the urge to wince with the pain and continued to feign sleep. Kishino’s mental and physical exhaustion were reaching their limits from today’s events, and he couldn’t handle the outside world as he was now.
My fucking god, wake the hell up. Stop bitching and actually think! How the hell did this happen?
Well it happened because I was an impulsive idiot that rushed into this shit with a makeshift checkbox list that I called a ‘plan’.
Dumbass. You had one fucking job and decided to fuck it up to earn some extra credit and soothe your own ego. And now you’re so wrapped up feeling sorry for yourself that you won’t even try to think of an actual solution to the problem, fucking sensitive crybaby. Just die already-
Kishino tensed his arms and bit down on the urge to grab at the pulse of pain in his chest. It had been years since he spiraled this badly, and his logic was working its ass off to catch up to the negative thoughts that stemmed from his emotional dysregulation. Realizing that, he quickly gave up on thinking about anything productive while his ADHD was being a bitch. Right now, all he wanted to do was hide. To go to some empty corner of the mansion where no one could see him wallow in self-pity. But no matter how much he wanted to hide, he couldn't escape. That was because Harold was hiding behind his own back, even more scared than Kishino was of confronting reality.
-… Sorry, Harold. I was too caught up with myself to think about how you were feeling in all of this.
-…
-Hey, listen. It’ll be okay. Mom and dad are just worried about us, right? Drugs are pretty dangerous stuff, especially in this world.
Kishino didn’t know who was convincing who, but he wasn’t in his right mind at the moment anyways; he shouldn’t let his catastrophizing jump to conclusions about his parents’ actions so quickly. Minutes passed as the treatment continued with the doctor’s shadow passing over Kishino’s eyes periodically, and his bruises and cuts felt notably less painful than before. It felt strange, now that he had nothing else to think about; if he imagined the scenario just right, Kishino could picture himself in the middle of a dark void, where the god of this world was preparing Harold’s body to house his disembodied soul.
Was Kishino really just a defective pawn of some higher being, sent to this world to ensure it’s not destroyed? If so, was that god or goddess disappointed in his current actions that put their plans in jeopardy? Or maybe he was doomed to fail from the very start, and this world actively corrected fate so that he didn’t stray too far from the plot of Brave Hearts. How was an impulsive teenager like him supposed to handle all of that crap? But before he could continue his pointless ruminating and fuck himself up with existential dread, Kishino felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Hey, um...If you’re awake, could you put your undershirt back on? And your notebook is on the table if you want it. I finished with the basic healing; any more would be a waste of magic or have unwanted effects due to your condition.”
“...”
Without really thinking, he gestured ‘give’ with his hand and the doctor handed him his shirt, after which he lazily dressed himself with his eyes still closed. He just wanted to get it over with so he could go back to brooding already. However, since unconscious people don’t have a tendency to move or dress themselves, the doctor took this as a sign to start a conversation.
“Hey, I know that you didn’t actually take Phoenix tears...but if you want, I can still give you the treatment off record. I will stop right away should anything feel uncomfortable.”
“...No thanks. Thanks for the healing.”
After opening his eyes only briefly to give a response, Kishino immediately shut them again and layed back down on the almost out-of-place looking hospital bed. This didn’t seem to dissuade the doctor, however.
“Right, no problem...Hey, listen for a second. I know that I don’t really know anything about what happened, and, I’m only an amateurish doctor. And you might have known this already, but…”
Kishino would’ve rolled his eyes if they were open.
Would you just shut- be quiet already? Shit. Don’t get angry, don’t get angry. Being angry fucks everything up, you idiot.
The doctor was just naturally curious, like anyone would be in this situation. Kishino couldn’t lash out at him; it wouldn’t be fair. After pausing to find the right words, the doctor continued.
“...I just felt like you should know that servant really does care deeply about you, Harold-sama. It’s obvious to everyone, especially with how mad he got like that. You should take care of yourself better so you don’t worry him… So, are you really sure you don’t want that treatment?”
“...”
“Right, ah, you’re probably exhausted. You rest up, and I’ll go call Norman-sama to come carry you to your room, okay? See you in a later checkup…!”
Even if Kishino wanted to speak, he was at a loss for words. Before he could shake himself out of his stupor, the doctor’s footsteps awkwardly walked away from his bedside, and the sound of a sliding door clanking shut resounded throughout the room. Norman… cared deeply about Harold? The doctor didn’t say anything that Kishino didn’t already know; he knew the old butler held a fondness for Harold, and he’d demonstrated such multiple times. And the words were obviously meant to be encouraging and reassuring, despite the fact that he was mostly trying to persuade him to take the treatment. So why did those simple words spoken with a soft and heartfelt tone feel like such a violent stab through the center of his chest?
Kishino played the words over and over in his head as he processed his feelings, until he finally reached the answer behind his extreme reaction. The doctor had said that Norman was worried about Harold. Not Hiroshi Kishino, the highschool senior from Japan; Norman was worried about Harold Stokes, the younger incarnation of the fan-hated recurring villain from Bravehearts. Another pulse of pain radiated from Kishino’s solar plexus, and this time he didn’t bother resisting the urge to claw at the invisible wound.
It was so stupid. Just a little earlier that day, Norman personally showed affection to Kishino when he was feeling overwhelmed. And he probably would’ve done the exact same thing if he'd known exactly who he was talking to. But even if it was stupid, coincidental, and completely irrational, the deathly loneliness still ate away at Kishino’s soul all the same. Excluding Harold, not a single soul in the world was aware of his existence. And for the sake of that very same world, Kishino needed to keep it that way. In one year, ten years, or maybe even the rest of his entire life, nothing would change. Kishino was forced to put on a mask and hide himself from everyone he knew and loved. He could give as much knowledge, advice, or affection as he wanted to people, but all of that reciprocal attention would inevitably fall to Harold.
A rising lump formed in Kishino’s throat and his eyes grew warm. He shifted to the side and curled into his stomach, clenching his fists and shivering at his still-burning fever. Norman cared about Harold. Norman worried about Harold’s well being. Norman wanted Harold, not Kishino, to take better care of himself. Tears leaked out of Kishino’s tightly-shut eyes and he clenched the bedsheets close, not caring about the bruises. Shuddering breaths passed through Kishino’s nose, before making way for silent sobs slightly reverberating across the empty room. The overwhelming helplessness, the crippling shame of failure, the deathly loneliness; everything came crashing down within Kishino as a pure, soul-crushing sadness as he let out a wordless cry of desperation.
I want to go home!!! Take me back!!! I can’t do this anymore…! Mom…Dad…Please, help me…!!
***
Norman’s frame was decidedly wider than Kiryu's. Those were Harold’s thoughts as he was carried down the warm hallways. He wasn’t sure when Kishino switched with him, but he vividly remembered the empty helplessness that still lingered in his brain, and judging by the tears it was easy to put two and two together. What a crybaby, jeez. It’s not like anything that happened was even his fault to begin with.
Harold shifted and leaned into Norman’s chest. He’d calmed down a bit now compared to before, but anytime his thoughts wandered to the Summeragi, his blood still froze over with indignant rage. Taking some words from Kishino’s memory, Harold fumed at the thought that those ungrateful bastards had the gall to frame him for ‘steroid’ use!
What the hell is wrong with those idiots!? Judging by the strength test, they even had the audacity to POISON me to make it more convincing! Why!?? Where did they even get the chance to do that!?
Harold’s fists clenched and he prayed that his frown couldn’t be seen from the angle of his head. His position of being princess carried reminded him of that cheeky servant that always looked down on him. Kishino gave those imbeciles the benefit of the doubt, and sure, they were scared of the unknown motives of the weird ten year old. But that wasn’t an excuse to poison a ten year old child. What the hell!? He wouldn’t be surprised if the “Withering backlash” was a result of the poison too. But when? And how was it worth the risk? Surely poisoning the person trying to save your citizens is a bad idea in general!?
Harold couldn’t remember it very well, but Kishino had suspected that Tasuku somehow figured out that he wasn’t a complete bastard. How would that even play into anything? He was already showing his nice side to Erica, so what difference did it make? Why were they even pretending to be the ‘bad guy’ in the first place again? Harold tried to think, but his mind was muddled with the urge to stab that Tasuku bastard. By the time they arrived at his room, he finally remembered it was something to do with his parents and politics.
“…Harold-sama?”
“…”
“If you are awake, could you please stand on your own for a bit while I open the door?”
Harold gave a silent hand wave and Norman gently set him down and slid the door open. His muscles still felt weak and his bruises ached as he walked into the room, but at least his fever was a bit better than before and he no longer shivered. Harold gradually opened his eyes and adjusted to the light just enough to walk over to his desk chair, where he proceeded to slump down over said desk and immediately close his eyes again.
“Harold-sama? You should be resting; I doubt the table is the most comfortable place for a nap.”
Harold turned his head and raised his hand in a vague gesture of acknowledgment.
“Harold-sama… you need to gain your strength back so we can think of a solution together. To brood over one’s failures is a dangerous trap to fall into.”
Harold just wanted Norman to leave him alone; all he wanted to do was just sit and wait until Kishino felt better enough to think of a solution to this whole mess. Even if that meant relying on someone else to do all the hard work for him, as always. If he tried to figure it out by himself, he’d probably just make things worse anyways.
Norman’s footsteps walked behind him and around to the bed, and judging by the sound of fabric he took a seat on it. Was this going to be one of those ‘talks’ like Kishino’s dad did for him in his memories? Harold rolled his eyes. If anything, Kishino was the one that deserved any help.
“…Harold.”
“…!?”
Harold lifted his head up and stared at Norman wide-eyed. Sitting on the white bed behind him, Norman wore a similarly surprised look on his face. For a split second he felt a twinge of shame at his bold impudence, but it quickly fell away and Norman patted the space beside him on the bed; Harold needed this now more than ever.
“…Haa, fine.”
Reluctantly, Harold stood and walked over to the bed before sitting himself a body’s worth of space away from Norman. Using his arms to keep him from falling backwards, he slouched back in a casual position as if nothing was wrong. Harold felt a bit exposed and awkward now that there wasn’t a convenient chair back to separate him from the head butler, but it also felt like there was some invisible force preventing him from running away somehow.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like crap?”
Harold smirked with self-derision. That was just about the best answer he could honestly give; anything more complex would devolve into a rant. But his small smile was wiped clean off his face when he felt a hand on his right shoulder, and Harold tensed his muscles on impulse before hiding his head between his shoulders and looking away.
“Ah, I apologize for touching you without warning!”
Norman quickly dropped his hand, but Harold’s rigid posture remained the same. The phantom sensation of his father’s iron grip still lingered in his mind, despite his attempts to ignore it or think of something else. Today wasn’t the first time he’d done that to Harold, and judging by recent events, it wouldn’t be the last either.
Though he couldn’t see it from his angle, Norman wore a frown of sympathy and frustration. That bastard didn’t deserve a kid anywhere near as thoughtful and compassionate as Harold, and he had the audacity to lay his hands on him!? Just how many times had things like this happened behind closed doors while Norman remained sinfully ignorant? How many untold tragedies still lay dormant within the brave child’s mind? But no matter how much he regretted it, he couldn’t afford to just sit by and blame himself now.
“...Are you afraid of your parents?”
Harold snapped his head up and glared at Norman.
“What!? What are you talking about!?”
“Are you afraid of them?”
“Of course not! They’re my parents!”
The hell had gotten into Norman!? Harold had only vague memories from the time Kishino had taken over, but he did remember small bits of conversation between him and that doctors’ apprentice. What did he even have against his mother and father…?
Ah, that’s right. I suppose they are classist bastards to anyone but me. But that’s got nothing to do with their parenting!!
Harold looked away again with a scoff. If all Norman wanted to do was complain about mother and father, then he could just shut it and leave. By today’s standards, not even spanking your kids was considered benign; Harold was just an ungrateful brat. Thankfully, Norman’s next words seemed to drop the topic.
“I’m sorry. I promise, I will not question your parents any more.”
“Hmph. Good.”
“How do you feel about this incident, then? I understand that you’ve been trying your best for an extremely long time now. A setback like this must hurt a lot.”
Harold frowned and clenched the blankets. ‘Trying his best?’ Hah, since when have words like that ever applied to him? All he ever did was rely on other people and chip in enough so he could say ‘I tried.’ What a laugh.
Though he had turned his face, his body must have given him away because Norman continued to press the point.
“I’m serious. No one who truly knows you could accuse you of not doing enough. Sometimes it really doesn’t matter how hard you try; failure is a natural aspect of life, as well as one’s greatest teacher.”
Harold shot up in his seat and ground his teeth. He wouldn’t take this bull crap!
“Would you just shut up!? Don’t you think I know something as simple as that!? I don't care! I don’t care if it’s natural! And I don’t care if you think I did enough, because you could never even begin to comprehend how completely and utterly worthless I actually am! I can’t do shit without you- without the scientist- without Carmen and Jake! And if it wasn't for a certain something that none of you will ever even know about, I would’ve just been another spoiled narcissistic classist brat, and even now I’m still sitting on my ass and letting myself get kicked around by those Sumeragi idiots because I’m so used to riding on mother and father’s coattails to get whatever I want!! So yes. I get it. But don’t you dare give me that benefit-of-the-doubt bullcrap when I just doomed thousands of innocent citizens because I was so goddamn full of myself that I really believed that everything would go my way if I just. Freaking. “TRIED!””
At some point in his monologue Harold left his seat and postured up to Norman, making wild gestures with his hands and pacing slightly. Harold’s face grew increasingly hot with rushing blood, and his head felt light while at the same time a tense pressure pressed down on his temples. His throat became sore with the sudden outburst, and adrenaline pumped through his veins like he was on the verge of throwing fists. As he reached the end of the rant, Harold was leaning over at Norman and punctuating each word with a meaningless gesture for emphasis and finally just nearly screaming out in a burst of violent fury… before collapsing powerlessly into Norman’s arms and breaking down into wordless sobs.
Norman hugged Harold tight and stroked the back of his head, before nearly tearing up himself. At first Norman was unsure of whether he was overstepping his bounds, or even saying the right words, but the feeling of a great weight lifting off his shoulders made him certain that it was worth it in the end.
“It’s okay, Harold. It’ll all be okay. You are not an idiot, and you are most definitely not lazy or narcissistic.”
Harold half-heartedly punched Norman’s chest. He was wrong. He just didn’t understand. No one could ever understand.
But before he could protest, Norman grabbed Harold under his arms and lifted him up to sit on his lap, before wrapping him in a strong embrace. Despite his fever, Harold couldn’t help but lean into the warmth.
“You are a ten year old child with far too much responsibility and with just as much, if not more ambition to match it. Don’t tell me you think a plan to invent a cure for a deadly region-wide disease and keep it out of the hands of corrupt upperclassmen is a small issue for the average child?”
Harold let out a small laugh and shook his head, still sniffling. He supposed that was true; compared to their long-term goals, something like this had seemed small and insignificant in scale. But now that he said it, saving thousands of lives wasn’t something the average person could normally brush off as nothing.
“-And that isn’t even nearly the end of it; you developed a revolutionary farming technique that will feed millions of families, all inspired by a potion that gained popularity in only the recent decades!”
This time Harold shook his head and let out a small scoff, and Norman paused when he noticed the dismissal. He’d questioned it for a time now, but perhaps Harold truly wasn’t the one who first invented VP farming? He required the help of a mysterious scientist to make the Withering medicine after all; what’s to say the same hadn’t happened for this? Putting the speculation aside for now, Norman attempted a different method of praise.
“…You’ve been working so hard to implement these discoveries safely and fairly to the benefit of the entire country. You’ve demonstrated patience, restraint, and caution the likes of which are, again, years ahead of your age.”
Harold opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he realized he’d been the one against rushing into this whole medicine situation from the beginning. There were plenty of cases where he had to reign in Kishino’s impulsiveness from going too far, and if he’d just listened to him this time, this whole situation would have never happened. But was that just an exaggeration made up by Harold’s ego to make him feel better about himself?
“…It is easy to think that the opposite of narcissism is self-criticism. But in reality, that is far from the truth.”
Harold looked up at Norman in questioning. Don’t narcissists think everything they do is perfect, and that they can do no wrong?
“What most people don’t understand about narcissists is that the reason they appear so prideful is because they are actually secretly ashamed of themselves, whether they are aware of it or not. They cover up their own insecurities by acting high and mighty. Which means that someone who is ashamed of themselves is in actuality somewhat similar to someone who acts overly prideful.”
Harold frowned as he tried to imagine it. The man he would’ve become had Kishino not ‘possessed’ him; wasn’t he haughty, prideful, and so full of himself that he couldn’t notice how obnoxious he was? How could that person possibly be insecure?
“…After all, what reason would they have to posture themselves to others if they truly believed that they had no faults? If they had real, true confidence in themselves, wouldn’t it not matter what anyone said or thought of them at all?”
Harold’s sniffling slowed. Was that really true? Even if he, or his mother and father praised themselves for their achievements, that didn’t have to mean that they were narcissists? As he processed this, Norman rubbed comforting circles around Harold’s back and pulled out a kerchief for him to wipe his nose on.
It took what he thought was five minutes to calm down to the point where he no longer needed the kerchief, and dry sniffles permeated the room. Norman joked about the tear stains running down his expensive jacket, and Harold laughed in embarrassment before leaning into the hug again. The heat was building up, but both of them wanted this moment to last as long as possible. Especially Harold, who for the first time in his own memory actually felt safe and secure crying in front of someone else.
Sadly, however, Harold’s mental, emotional, and physical energy were all completely drained now, and he found himself nodding off now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Noticing this, Norman lifted Harold up again before walking to the front of the bed, where he awkwardly leaned down to pull the sheets with the hand that was still holding him. It was evident that he wasn’t used to this, and Harold let out a short laugh at the seasoned butler that was usually so practiced and sure of himself.
Norman too wore a wry smile as he lowered Harold down onto the bed and pulled up the sheets. He then pressed the front and back of his hand against Harold’s forehead before running his hand through Harold’s hair one more time.
“I’ll go fetch some wet towels just in case. Rest up for now, Harold. We’ll figure this out together when you’re healthy and well rested.”
Harold smiled in response and Norman turned to leave. But just before he opened the sliding door, he turned his head back with seeming hesitation.
“I meant it by the way, when I said your discoveries are revolutionary. I never could’ve come up with anything like it, let alone have the self-control to not immediately spread the findings to the ears of anyone that’d listen.”
Harold gave a sleepy response, too tired to even open his eyes again.
“Hah, that’s not true. Anyone could’ve made the connection; they give you nutrients and make you burn them quickly for stamina, why couldn't it do the same for plants? Honestly, I’m only surprised that such a sudden growth doesn’t have any… defects…”
Harold’s eyes shot open, shortly after which his mouth twisted into a smug grin. He needed his notebook and a pen. Now.
wholesome...,,,,,
I need more, I need more...
Mwahahahaha!!! I feed off of your gluttonous suffering!
-*Rly tho tell that to my school lol*
More
Capitalist consumerism at its finest
*this is a reply to all ur previous comments too lol
Welcome back. Thanks for the chapter! I would've thought Harold I would have tried to pester kishino into joining him in indignant rage just to avoid the negative feelings that were trying to drag them both down. That would be in line with Harold's old personality to avoid negative feelings by getting angry and probably would have helped his partner stop spiraling into depression. Overall though, I do like how Harold's character developed in his talk with Norman. Keep up the good work.
He probably would have lol. Sadly at the time Harold was a bit “out-of-commision” from everything that happened. Especially that argument with his parents; it’s a touchy subject for em’.
I made sure he raged a whole bunch afterwards to make up for it tho :)
But thank you so much! I took a lot of care to writing this chapter as a whole (and every prev chapter too, but u know what I mean). And I never did leave, but thanks, I’m glad you’re back too! I just vastly underestimated how much time I would have after covid, heh!
Helllllloooooo