A/N: It's been a while!

I have made updates to previous chapters to add detail and foreshadow future things. I will summarize them here in case you don't want to read it all again.

His sister has black hair (changes everywhere)

Murals in the outside of the city, depicting a man accepting a heart from a woman (chapter 1)

Reference to two dragons (chapter 1)

Beta: Courtland

(\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/)

"Yes!" cried Chris with joy.

His trophy had finally arrived after weeks of anticipation. He couldn't wait to surprise everyone!

He opened the box and took out the trophy. The trophy was made out of a cheap metal and painted a yellowish color that was supposed to be gold. Underneath was his name, and the engraved words "1rst Place, Alviss Regional Chess Tournament", an inscription of his achievement on a cheap metal plate. Chris didn't care that the trophy was poorly made, however. Holding it in his own hands made it feel like solid gold.

His elation almost made his heart burst out of his chest as he walked out of his and his sister's room and around the corner. He hid the trophy behind his back, hoping to surprise them.

"Mom! Dad!" They were even home at the same time. It must be the best day ever!

He was stopped by a finger. "Shhh, wait a second, son." Huh? "Continue, Lily."

"Dear!" His mother admonished her husband. "Sorry, Chris, just a moment, Lily's brought home some very important and great news!"

Ah! Lily was also there, sitting at their old round table with their parents. She absentmindedly brushed aside a lock of her shiny onyx hair. Chris decided to patiently wait, like the good child he was . Lily waved at him with a smile before continuing.

"As I was saying, it turns out that Stevenson's team got disqualified. There were some major inconsistencies with his experiments."

Chris' mother gasped. "So, you have moved up to first?"

Lily nodded. Ah, did she win a competition too?

"And the scholarship to that… that prestigious university?"

She nodded to their father's question. Chris smiled to the side. He knew she had always wanted to go there.

"Full scholarship, plus research position."

"And the prize money?"

"Every single cent of the fifteen thousand… minus taxes, of course."

Their mother cheered and went on to hug her daughter, while their father visibly puffed up with pride.

"We can finally afford fresh food! Let's make a cake to celebrate," their mother turned to him with a big smile. "You want to help out, Chris?"

Making a cake? That sounds like fun! Still, he wanted to show off his plastic trophy!

…

Chris paused. Show off that?

His plastic trophy, for what basically amounted to winning a game? His mass manufactured trophy that didn't guarantee any kind of bright future for him? His cheap trophy that wasn't even even worth ten cents?

Compared to fifteen thousands dollars… that amount of money was a lifesaver for a family like them. That was at least a few month's rent...

His hands shook. He really wanted to show off his achievement… but...

His sister had just single handedly saved his family, and what did he do with his time? Competed in a childish event, that's what! What did he do while she was studying? Probably scratching his head, staring blankly at mathematics that she had mastered ages ago.

What would his parents say if they realized he had wasted so much time with a game? They would not look at him with eyes filled with pride - no, instead, they would be disappointed!

He sprinted out of the room, the object of his shame hidden away from their eyes. Chris ignored their confused calls.

Envy, jealousy, it all pooled inside him. He wanted to hate her. He wanted to curse her name, to wish that she never existed… but the anger towards his sister disappeared just as fast as it came. Because, in the end, she was his sister. Hadn't she always being there for him? A kind, loving sister, that Chris could not find any fault in. A perfect being, like an angel. And so his anger turned inward, transforming into something just as ugly. Shame and guilt.

What a useless trophy! He burst into his side of his room and threw the pointless piece of plastic with all his might. He was stupid to have invested so much time on it. Why couldn't he be more like his sister? He was always so stupid, an idiot-head!

The plastic piece of junk hit the wall and was smashed into pieces.

(\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/)

Chris woke up like he always did. Eyes closed, body still. For the first time however, there was no sluggish awakening, just a sudden thrust into consciousness. The world burst into sound - his mind going into overdrive to determine his environment.

The sound of many people shuffling around.

"More water! Her wound is infected!"

"The CCT! I need a status report on repairs by yesterday!"

"Dammit, stay alive!"

Screams of pain. Moaning.

But no screeching of the Grimm. The battle was over. Either they won, or they had retreated to underground shelters. Did they have bomb shelters here?

The air smelt like ash and disinfectant. The smell of an infirmary in a warzone, minus the gunpowder. To some, it was the smell of death, and to others, it was proof that they were still alive. To Chris… it brought a familiar calm.

Something tugged at his heart and he froze his last train of thought.

It was a strange feeling, since he could tell it wasn't physical. Was this his soul? His aura had to be fully unlocked now, since he had survived the Grimm. Or someone saved him. So, was his aura unlocked?

Chris tried to recall details. He distinctly remembered a strange creed or prayer be muttered before he went unconscious. Actually, there were a lot of things muttered to himself before he went unconscious. Something about Arcs and the House of Nikos? That was weird. He hadn't reacted then, since for some reason he had crazy tunnel vision. There was another tug at his heart, again stopping him from further introspection.

What was that? He tried harder to grasp the feeling. Then, he realized something. His eyes snapped open.

"Mint!" he yelled. His voice was hoarse and dry.

Someone pushed him back onto the straw bed. He struggled against it, but the grip was like steel. He twisted his head to look at the culprit.

"Shu' up!" The old man snapped at Chris, wincing and covering one of his ears with the hand that wasn't holding him down. "Yer loud enough to wake tha dead! And Mint's all good thanks to ya. Now ge' some rest!"

Chris scanned his body with his eyes. The elder looked well enough, no visible wounds. Actually, he looked completely unwounded. Aura was truly fearsome.

Chris stopped resisting and fell back onto the uncomfortable straw. "Is Natasha unwounded? And could I have a glass of water please?"

"Aye. It'll take more than ah few Grimm tah take Natasha down. Here yah go." The old man handed him a mug, forcing Chris to sit up to drink it and invalidating their earlier battle.

A small part of Chris expected ale in the mug due to some random inkling he had. Was it some book? Something about it being safer to drink than water? Whatever, he was wrong, it was water. He sipped from the cup, testing the temperature, before chugging it all down.

"The town's still in shock ovah wha' happened. Got a few dead."

Chris' eyes widened slightly. He had forgotten to ask about the town to at least seem caring. His mistake. The old man had probably caught it. No matter. The village had wronged Mint, he wasn't about to care anytime soon.

"That's terrible." Chris replied, trying to be as sincere as possible by thinking of the two villagers who had apologized. A lie without even a speck of truth is easily seen through, after all.

"Is the attack over?" He handed back the mug.

The old man placed the cup on a wooden table beside them. "Aye." His words were followed by awkward silence between the two.

Chris didn't mind. He and the old man were still pretty much strangers after all. His eyes broke eye contact and wandered around to look at his surroundings.

They were inside a repurposed classroom. He could tell that by the worn low quality blackboard at the front of a row of strawbeds whereupon lay patients. Chris' was located on the far right by his perspective in the row.

Between the straw beds were desks, though their metal legs were all replaced with wooden substitutes, either because the metal had worn away, or so that the metal could be reused. There were shelves by the far wall filled with tools and medicine. Just like the other houses in the village, the walls themselves were also falling apart, revealing their concrete makeup.

His attention was captured by the one crying women and two children, whose faces he couldn't see due to the direction they were facing, by the bedside of the patient directly on his left. The patient was a man with white hair - the cause for his bedridden condition was not immediately discernible to Chris.

Chris inspected the man's face for a while longer. The patient had white hair, but his facial features did not look that old. Kind of strange, like an old young man. Albino, maybe? Chris looked closer. Ah. It's the man from before. The one who fought the bird Grimm with a wooden table leg.That was why he looked familiar. His wife and children had died. That unfortunate man. The words came out flat even for a thought. Chris had no emotions attached to that beyond the words themselves. Though I swear he wasn't albino before.

Seeing the man did remind Chris of an important matter, however.

"Mr. Magpie, I do hope that attack was an isolated case."

"It is not." The elderly's expression turned grim, or grimmer than it normally was.

As Chris thought. The Grimm attacks were devastating and random.

It was… an experience, living in fear of things like so. While he never got besieged by monsters, men can be just as fearsome. He could still remember hiding in mountain caves while enemy "volunteer soldiers" (they were in reality just foreign aid) patrolled the forest outside, or the days when they had to hide in a city getting shelled by artillery. It was not uncommon to wake up one day with your friends in pieces. But in reality, people in these circumstances change to suit such environments.

Humans have an astounding ability to adapt. Without a way out, fear becomes dull over time. So, even while impending death rains from above, people could still walk to work with smiles on their faces if the threat of shelling stayed over their head long enough. It was almost admirable of them.

That was what happened to Chris. He had brushed with death so many times that he could almost remember the touch and smell of her. The numbing peace, like the warm embrace of serenity. The fresh flowery scent of hellish brimstone and decay.

And it was this reason that Chris felt little sympathy for the villagers. Death really was no big deal to him. What he did feel for them, was kinship - a bond that could only be formed between people who have lived similarly, and understood what it meant to have gone through such experiences. This village was not a good place for Mint, but for him, it was a hint of home.

Well, of his last home, not his real home.

"Still, ah've never seen ah attack this strong," added the old man, halting Chris from his contemplation. "We're going to send ah few people tah investigate."

Good. Chris wanted to know more. He asked more questions about the Grimm and aura. The old man answered with care, strangely subdued, until a green haired girl came excitedly into the room. Behind her, she pulled an exasperated maid.

"Natasha. Mint." The boy acknowledged.

"Chris! I'm so happy you are alright!" She hugged him from the side. He returned it - but only for appearance's sake.

"It is good to see the little macho master in good health."

Chris blinked. It was unusual to see the android - or was it a gynoid? - snarky, but since he hasn't known her for long, he didn't think much of it.

"Looks like you two are unharmed," he stated. Was she mad at him for something? Her hostility looked pretty illogical from his side.

"Did you tell him about the party yet?" Mint asked the old man.

"No."

"Awww!"

Chris stared. Shouldn't she be more affected by everything? The village was almost destroyed, almost killed. Where was the distress?! He stared at both of their faces, one smiling and the other peacefully neutral, so incongruent with the scene of complete chaos around him as medics tried to save the lives of people on death's door.

Think, Chris. Strange things have always turned out to be dangerous. Figure it out.

A flash of red. He forced himself from remembering and continued on his train of thought.

Sources of happiness - her own survival, the old man's survival since he seemed to be pretty close to her, Grimm were dead… wait didn't the 'Doom squad' children react strangely too to life-endangering threats? There was something related there.

Think! Irregularities…

A flash of a kiss. It was rough, the lips were dry - experienced, dirty but it wasn't dirt - it was ash. He should have known - how did he not realize - Irregularities! Never ignore them.

Focus.

Irregularities: children ignore trauma. Broken moon. Rob - why did I remember that name? Who is that? He shook his head. Focus. Splendorous mansion - poor town (strike against the old man). Old man hiding his true intentions (probably). Mint's parents, was there a reason they disappeared? The box. Ember. How come in this world the soul can become physical? Why are the Grimm attracted to negative emotions, and how does that even work?

None of them relate!

Wait.

He narrowed his eyes.

Negative emotions - trauma.

Bear, giant plush bear, the other day. Why would a rundown village buy giant plush bears in the shape of their enemies? They didn't have much money after all. Calms the children? No. It would just scare them. Though if it was always around… then they could get used to it?

That's a stretch. Extend.

Chris tried to make more connections.

Humanity plagued by monsters that bring them despair and that are attracted to despair. Despair causing more despair. Vicious cycle. Only way to stop it would be to break the cycle. To live, they must not fear death. So… the bear is one of many tools to help them get used to the Grimm?

That's why the children deal with trauma so well. Chris realized. Their very society was built up on trauma management. So even… He thought about the beautiful interior decor of the old man's mansion. It looked new.

Chris thought about how Ms. Canes had to judge Mr. Magpie too. He was an outsider. He came later, possibly to save them. That's why the old man's place is so glamorous. He is acting like a beacon of hope for the village. To show them that the village can be rebuilt, that there is a bright future if only they fight. Hope possibly attracts less Grimm. Then, why hasn't he rebuilt more of the village? Maybe because he was focusing on the defenses? Chris thought of all the hidden turrets. Or maybe to hide the true power of the village from the bandits?

...I think? It was all theories. Very interesting, Chris had never thought about how strange society could become with such a world. He must analyse it, less he be caught with his pants down.

"...Chris?"

He came back to the real world. "Sorry, lost in thought." He paused. "...Mint. What are you doing with that crayon?"

Mint quickly moved it from where it was hovering before his face and stuck it behind her back.

"N'thing."

Chris looked at the old man for help. Mr. Magpie didn't offer an explanation, instead he looked sideways and snorted .

"Yer need tah pay more attention tah your su'oundings, Chris."

The words struck the boy much harder than they would have anyone else. His instincts were sharpened over years of rigorous training. Of course, he needed times where he could let his guard down, but to choose a place where he was surrounded by possible enemies - the villagers? It didn't make sense.

An invisible tug. -...P…- Like magnetism, it pulled him. He felt it and tried to judge the direction, ignoring the old man's and Mint's confused questions. The tug… came from Mint?

He ignored the family by the patient beside him, who were getting louder, and focused on the feeling from before. The strange pressure, or feeling of fatherhood, whatever the hell it was, had grown more intense! That was what the tugging feeling was. It was an invisible pressure at first, but now was concentrated. Chris felt himself panic. What was it?! It wasn't anything normal, it was more than normal, supernatural, even. Almost like an invisible force that controlled him like the strings of a puppet.

He opened his mouth to voice this strange happening, before closing it after realizing how it would sound. "I have fatherly feelings for you, Mint, help me! They are really strong!" ...I think I'm going to vomit. No, he has to deal with them himself. He shivered. He felt quite weirded out by the situation. Who wouldn't be?

But… hadn't the strange feelings helped him before, when he saved Mint? It helped him make the right choice, to stay and save his - the girl. -...Please...!- It wasn't bad, per say. He remembered the many ways he was going to betray her trust, so ending up not doing so was a great relief.

Chris felt a bit guilty for even having to think over his own sacrifice, when he obviously was so selfish - it wouldn't be much of a loss to the world if he was gone. Still, it didn't feel right. The outcome was great, but how much of the decision was made by him, and not these alien feelings? He pushed that thought aside. He didn't care, all that mattered was the results.

Though, the way he'd saved her did make him feel embarrassed in hindsight. "And all miracles require sacrifice." Really, what the hell was that Chris? Are you a high school student, trying to impress your crush by acting cool? War hardened veteran my ass. -...Please, Ms. Canes...- Maybe this body is affecting me. How much of critical thinking is even in the soul? -...I beg of you!-

Chris froze. "I beg of you"? That wasn't me.

~/\/\/\/\/\/\/\~

-"Take me, Ms. Canes! Kill me instead!" I begged of her. I couldn't stand the reality of my failure. A husband, a father, I failed at both.

She looked impassively down at me, but I knew that she was conflicted too.

"Take mine and fix it! Please, Ms. Canes!" The tears streamed down my face.

My world had collapsed around me, leaving me with nothing. This life isn't worth living without them.

"You are one of my Children too, Mr. Arcia." Her voice was soothing and filled with compassion, but that was not what I needed right now. "I can't…"

Anger.

"And they are my children and my wife!"

"It's just…"

I grabbed at her arms. "Ellie, please! Think what would you do for your family?"

She knew the answer. And I knew it too.

"Look into my eyes, do you not see the same conviction?" I spat at her. "Take my life as it is dictated in tradition!"

We were like glass sculptures, frozen in our poses. Her blue Arc eyes staring into oh-so similar ones. And shakily, her resolve broke, and so did the tableau as she pointed her spear towards me. Her mouth opened, but I didn't listen, so focused I was in my goal.

I knew she wouldn't be able to deny my request. After all, I knew exactly what the Butcher herself would do for family.

"...and by my hand." I heard the end of her prayer. "… condemn thee."

Then I felt my consciousness fade.

~/\/\/\/\/\/\/\~

Chris fell back into reality. It was so sudden that his acting skills couldn't keep up. His two companions noticed the change - widened eyes, flinch - immediately and asked about it. He didn't listen, only immediately turning to his left.

The patient, the father, was dead. Chris didn't know how he knew, but he knew. And that memory… it belonged to him. Not to Chris.

Was this Chris' semblance? Semblances were supernatural abilities you gained after unlocking aura, after all. But memory viewing was a strange choice... Wasn't a semblance tied in to his soul? What does having a power like that say about him?

Or maybe a semblance was completely unrelated to the person? Ms. Canes had a time traveling ability, after all. It made no sense. Having fire powers may indicate a fiery personality, or lots of rage, but time travel?! Semblances truly were a strange concept.

Chris scoffed. Technically, there was nothing that indicated that unlocking aura equalled unlocking the soul. For all he knew, it was just a power of the bodies of the people of this world.

The soul, afterall, is sacred to Chris. It shouldn't be a resource like oil, or humans, it was the fiber of one's being. To touch it was to defile it with mortal concerns. Yes, there was no way this aura was related to the actual soul. After all, if it was analysable like the rest of the world, then it meant that it wasn't special at all, didn't it? That it worked in the realm of men, and could be defiled by people like him, and that they… them... Chris grimaced.

A tug.

He turned back towards Mint. And the strange pressure that had evolved into a tug... He hadn't made the connection between the two pieces of information until now, surprisingly, but that feeling, it must also(?) be his semblance. That was great! Didn't it help him make the choice to save Mint? It seemed to have made him feel more human, overriding his old instincts.

He paused.

No, if that was true, it meant that all his triumph in saving Mint hadn't been due to his decision. It was just a power. An external force, forcing him to do the right thing. By chance. If it hadn't been there, would he have run like a coward? Abandoned Mint?

Basically killing Mint?

No. His heart pounded in his ears as the reality of the situation sunk in. No! He struggled to calm himself, but for the first time in years, the emotions felt fresh and new. Why did all these emotions from the last few days feel so fresh and new?! ...could it be… His eyes widened.

The brain stores memories - he was religious, he wasn't stupid - and different hormone levels could affect a person's mood and personality. Seeing as he is in someone else's body, he had completely different organs, different ingrained instincts, and basically different levels of chemical compounds flowing through his body.

That… was interesting. For now, he had to take back control though. He struggled. The boy fought against the hysteria and bent his body with his iron will. Just as he was calming down, he was shocked out of his struggle as someone pushed him back to get him to lie down. It might have been to help him, but instead, the forceful restraining movement made it worse.

"Chris! Calm down! Stop, what 're yah doing!" He had no idea what his expression was like. It must have been bad.

He struggled against the grip reflexively. A small part of him noted that it was the old man pinning his arms down. Doesn't the old man know that you aren't supposed to hold down people having a seizure? Not that this was a seizure, the boy just felt hysterical, and It wasn't his previous train of thought that was causing it.

He could almost feel it again. Thick, braided ropes, unable to move, struggling, stop them. Stop themstopthemstopstopthemtheyarekillingHIM.

"Mr. Magpie!" He called shakily. "Stop holding me down, please! You are making it worse!"

The old man looked at him, confused, but relieved that the boy had returned to his senses, and let go. Chris fell back down with a moment of relief.

"Please… don't restrain me again." He brought his voice under control with his iron will.

You were such a coward!

"What 'as that!" The old man barked out, "Did yah lose yer mind?!"

"...can we talk about that later?" Chris calmly told him, forcing his thoughts deeper into his mind. Mr. Magpie was the best person to learn more about semblances and their 'soul'. "I don't want to spoil the mood of the… party." He paused. "Say, Grass, how come there is a… party?"

Mr. Magpie didn't look happy at all with his subject change, again, but let him go. Beside them, Mint looked unsure.

"Yeah, it's a funeral party!"

…

Chris didn't know what to say, nor where to even start pointing out the contradictions in that statement.

"Right! Amm-ne-cya!" Mint smacked her head. "We're going to celebrate all the achievements and accomplishments of the people who di - passed away. You need to come, Chris!"

More trauma management, Chris thought clinically. This could be interesting. However, I should figure out my semblance, and investigate the irregularities… Once again, it must have shown on his face, for Mint stared at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes he's ever seen. He needed to investigate his semblance, ignore her!

"Preeettty please?"

Say no Chris. Your survival - and hers - are at stake here!

The eyes grew watery.

Maybe I should go to… uh learn about their customs.

~/\/\/\/\/\/\/\~

He ended up going.

~/\/\/\/\/\/\/\~

A/N: Like I said on my profile, this chapter is one long one. It may end up as up to five parts long.