Dimensions Collide: Destiny Bond

“Uh- hey. What’re you doing out here?”

Unfortunately for John, his momentary lapse in movement allowed for his pursuers to launch an all-out attack. As mana users, they’d easily kept up with him, and now that they had a sitting target, the only thing left to do was kill him.

“Die, you bastard!”

Unfortunately for the thieves, the real threat was the little girl watching the whole thing unfold. She stared at the situation, dumbfounded. John had been dealing with this? Why hadn’t he told her anything? Was he on some kind of mission? If so, he should’ve brought her along. Wasn’t that the whole point of everything?

“John…”

Prota clenched her hands as the surrounding air swirled with a bone chilling wind. Specks of frost gathered as a blue flame burned near her chest, her most powerful spell being summoned to deal with mere bandits, foes she’d dealt with near the beginning of her journey. There was still a full minute of preparation needed to cast the spell, but with John nearby, she was being given the luxury of preparing it. Even John hadn’t realized it until it was nearly too late.

“Prota? Hey, wait, you can’t use that here-”

“Frozen Flame!”

John threw himself to the ground, covering his head as the spell went off, shards of ice scattering everywhere. Prota was quick enough to cover John with a barrier of ice, stopping him from being harmed, but the same could not be said for the thieves who, having been unprepared, were nowhere near ready enough to defend themselves. The flame exploded, shattering the frozen statues that were once elves. Granted, there were only about five or so of the bunch, but it was still incredible that Prota had used a spell meant to deal with otherwise unsolvable situations for something as relatively minor as this.

“Wh- whoa,” John stammered, getting up slowly. “Hey, what’s going-”

He was interrupted as Prota wobbled around, tired from having used so much mana at once. She stumbled into him, wrapping her arms around him. John slowly returned the embrace, but he was still confused. Why was she here? He wasn’t complaining. She’d been extremely helpful. But still, why had she come out? She seemed upset, too. Had anything abnormal happened in the past few days?

“Alright, Prota, let’s go back.”

“No.” Prota looked up, pouting. “I’m going with John.”

“With- well, yeah. …why would I go somewhere else?”

There was an awkward silence as Prota slowly let go of John. She looked at his back, wanting to be carried, but saw there was something sticking out of his bag. Something wooden. Why would he have something wooden in his bag? And why was it sticking out of his bag in the first place? Usually he just shoved things in his pocket dimension. It was safer, easier, and just better for storage in general.

She shook her head. It didn’t matter now. She could always ask him later. Reaching up, she grabbed his hand as they walked back down the path, leaving the mess behind them. John wasn’t concerned. If the old lady was going to report the whole issue, the king would deal with this anyway. And if John wasn’t worried, then Prota didn’t need to be worried either.

“Hey, hold on. You never answered my question. What’re you doing all the way out here?”

Prota just glared at him.

“Ah. Good point. Well, ok, it was a minor issue, but-”

Another glare from Prota told John it was time to shut up. John, however, was not one to pay attention to such commands.

“Well, now you’re just deflecting. C’mon, answer my question.”

“Every day, John woke up early. John never wakes up early. And you always come back late.”

“...is that really that abnormal?”

“John sleeps all day. And he stays up at night. Now John is normal.”

John winced. He knew that was what he did, but it still hurt to hear it.

“Ok, but still, it was just a week. You couldn’t wait that long?”

“...John was always tired coming back. You have bags under your eyes. You go to sleep immediately. John is usually lazy, and doesn’t do much. But all of a sudden, John is busy. You’re working. Isn’t… isn’t that strange?”

“Ah, that…” John sighed. “I’ll tell you when we get back, alright?”

Prota nodded, but her heart was heavy. Was it something he couldn’t involve her in? She knew there was still so much he knew that she had yet to learn, but still, she thought she’d at least grown somewhat.

…something about what John had said. About [Stories] ending in tragedy. About making a happy ending. What if… what if that meant ending things here? She could stay alive. She could stay content. Was she too weak to stick around without giving John a reason to worry? From what she could see, he was capable of handling himself. She had to remind herself that it was her who’d approached him.

Granted, Prota was in a state of panic at the moment. She’d gone through a whole year of improving and learning to grow out of her current mindset. But her stress had caused her to relapse into an old way of thinking, into thinking unreasonable and illogical thoughts.

And the more they lacked proper communication, the more she’d spiral into a downwards trend.

[you’re an idiot]

So, like that, she didn’t notice as John picked up the pace, hurrying back to the Windwalker mansion.

~~~

As John had requested, a room and kitchen had been reserved for him that day. He had Prota sit down, then drew up a chair for himself. He hadn’t expected the bandits to go after the rune, but this whole situation was even more unexpected.

Why was she acting so strange? Had he done something?

[you’re an idiot]

Zero’s words had left an impression on him. They insulted each other a lot, but Zero wouldn’t use the system to message unless John had actually done something stupid. What was he not realising? The cloak and staff? It was possible Prota was upset about it, but to this extent? That, and she’d come all the way out to meet him. What for? What could her items have to do with that?

Maybe… maybe she was tired of travelling with him? It was possible. He wasn’t exactly the most enjoyable person to be around. He just didn’t care enough to be an agreeable person. If someone wanted to stick around, they could. And if not, well, they wouldn’t be around for all that long anyway.

Suddenly, he was unsure of himself. He’d been put in a situation he was unfamiliar with, a relationship where he could no longer [Reset] if he made a mistake. Something that hurt the other party was permanent. Prota would never forget it. He couldn’t find out what he’d done wrong and then go back and ensure it never happened.

…he’d done something foolish. He didn’t know what it was, but he’d done something and hadn’t thought of the consequences. A habit he’d have to break.

“Prota-”

“John-”

Having called each other’s names simultaneously, both realised something was weighing on the other’s mind. The tension in the air lightened up. Somehow, both of them understood. The communication the two of them had built up through mere glances let them understand.

There was some kind of misunderstanding.

“I, uh… hey. Was… are you mad about me disappearing or something?”

“...” Prota nodded ever so slightly.

“Well, you see… I- ah, why fuck around? My bad, Prota. I- I didn’t mean anything.”

Things were clicking in John’s head. Zero had called him an idiot. And he had been. He’d been so focused on her gift that he’d neglected Prota herself. Granted, he’d put in work like never before, but why did that matter? If it was all for Prota, then there was no point in a lot of effort if all that effort did was nothing.

He wasn’t exactly the best at understanding relationships, at least those involving himself. He was great at reading them from a distance. After all, as a [Reader], complex and messy relationships were things that happened in stories all the time. But he himself had never really tried to be a good person.

Maybe it was time to work on that.

“...well, better late than never, right? Happy birthday.”

John reached into his bag and pulled the gifts out, laying them on the table in front of Prota. Her eyes widened as she picked up the cloak, checking it all over. The patches were still there, but there was no tear. No giant hole. The material felt softer, lighter and silkier somehow, almost as if it’d been woven out of clouds.

“I went to go get this fixed. The person fixing it, she needed a specific rune that was just so conveniently being targeted by a group of thieves. So instead of taking three days like she promised, it ended up being finished today…”

John was explaining away, but as he was doing so, he frowned as he came to a realisation. There was no way a group of thieves had just “conveniently been targeting the rune at the same time.” Something like that was too silly, too outlandish, and it just didn’t make any sense-

“Ah… that bastard…”

John just slumped down in his chair. A misunderstanding. Something like this was impossible to avoid in a relationship, but he’d yet to have one with Prota, right? The situation was way too illogical and foolish to be something that made sense.

“Something like this… really? Are you that desperate for a better story that you’d pull something this poorly written?”

Prota, on the other hand, was still stunned by her gift. Her eyes began to water up, and she buried her face in her gift to wipe away her tears. Only after she was calm did she put it on, checking that everything was alright. It felt lighter, smoother, while still giving the same warmth and familiarity it always had.

“Something like this… ah, whatever. It’s a done deal, right?”

John leaned back and laughed. Prota stared in shock. His laugh felt different today. Less forced, and somehow less pleasant now, but it carried an emotion she’d never heard from John before. It was loud, almost harsh, but he really was laughing. Something was truly amusing in that moment. She didn’t know what it was, but that one laugh seemed to clear the atmosphere up. Somehow, the situation had been cleared up, just like that. A week of stress and worry, gone in the snap of a finger.

“Come on. Let’s go make something to eat.”

John led Prota into the empty kitchen, but it wasn’t empty for long. In a bit, he pulled out a large clay pot, a large chunk of pork belly, salt, pepper, some weird red paste and powder, followed by some brown liquid Prota recognized as soy sauce, along with a few other things. All together, it wasn’t a lot.

“Here,” John said, opening the pot. Inside was some red vegetable that stank of fermentation and garlic, but it wasn’t too bad. Just strong.

John took a large pot hanging from the wall and poured in some water, just enough to cover the pork. He put it on the stove, then went back to the meat, slicing it up into strips, putting it in the water before turning the heat up, boiling the sliced up pork belly.

“...hey. It would be nice if you could make up for what you pulled before, you know? Maybe speed up the process a little?”

Something must’ve happened because a pleasant smell soon began to fill the room. John lifted the lid to see that the pork had cooked through, with some of the oil and fat from the meat floating at the top. He nodded, seemingly satisfied with the result, then filled the rest of the pot with water, dumping in the red vegetable. The water quickly turned red as well, and a delicious smell began to fill the room.

Prota watched, her mouth watering as John slowly stirred the ingredients around. It was unlike any of the other meals he’d made for her. The pizza and hamburgers had been made by someone else. The dumplings were complex but entertaining to make. This… it felt homey. Relaxing. It was simple, but that was fine in its own way.

She watched as John closed the lid again, muttering once more before opening the pot. The soup looked opaque now. He took a spoon and lifted some of the broth to his lips, tasting a bit before picking up some more ingredients. Salt and pepper went in, along with a few spoons of the red paste and powder, followed by a splash of the soy sauce. Some kind of oil went in as well, just a bit, and John closed the lid one more time.

“...I wish I had an electrical outlet,” John sighed, but there was nothing like that around. He took out a bag of some white grain and dumped it into a pot, then filled it with water. That, too, was put to boil.

“Now, we wait.”

He stepped to the window and looked out to the skyline, glowing golden as the sun was setting. Nearby, there was a door that led outside. John looked at it for a moment before opening it and heading out. Curious, Prota followed and was met with a small porch with two cushioned chairs.

“Hm. I didn’t know this was here, but it’s nice.”

John sighed as he fell into one of the chairs. Prota followed, looking toward the sky, still hugging her new staff.

The two just sat like that for a little bit, staring out into the distance. The swish of the grass. The silent sound of the wind. The cool air made cooler by the gentle breeze was warmed by the sunlight beaming onto their faces. The occasional bird call would be answered by another, and the song would begin.

Somehow, despite all their worries, despite all their troubles, everything felt like it would be alright.

“Damn. It’s been two years already, huh?”

John laughed. His laugh had reverted to his usual, hollow laugh.

“You were… well, yeah.” John seemed reluctant to say anything about it.

Prota just nodded.

“Look at where we are now. No matter how awful it is, isn’t a story interesting? Did you ever think we’d end up at the royal palace? Meeting the Elvish king?”

“John didn’t know?”

“How would I have known that Destiny was some big shot? [Protagonists] are all sorts of people. Sometimes they’re orphans. Sometimes they’re big shots. Sometimes they’re losers, sometimes they’re chosen ones, and sometimes they’re just ordinary people. It’s impossible to predict something like that.”

John sighed, sinking deeper into the cushions.

“Prota. Do you regret anything?”

“...?”

“Think about it. I know we talked about this already, but you could’ve had a normal life. All of this… the [Resets], the fighting, the killing, the pain, the suffering, we can still go back. I’m never getting out of this. My whole life revolves around finding these memories. But you’re not like that. I can still go back. [Reset] all the way back to two years ago. Really.”

What John wasn’t saying was that a [Reset] of that calibre would take all the remaining [Deus Ex Machina] energy he had left, but that was something he was willing to do. For all his talk about ignoring [Characters] for his own good, he was willing to use a resource as valuable as [Deus Ex Machina] to give Prota an out. He hadn’t even realised it, but he’d grown a lot closer to her than he would’ve ever imagined.

“Think. Look at what we’ve gone through. You were kidnapped. You watched me die. The old granny died. You died. Then you came back to life, but only to learn that life is nothing more than a [Story] written by a delusional idiot. Then you died again. You died a lot, actually. And that fight with Doctor. All of it. The struggle, the pain. Was it worth it? Really worth it?”

John paused as he ran out of breath, closing his eyes. Looking back on it himself, it’d been a journey. Maybe not the best journey, but it’d had its moments. His thoughts ran short as Prota spoke.

“...it was hard.”

Yeah. That was right. Losing Prota would be sad. But it would be better for everyone involved, if that’s what she wanted. Steeling himself, he opened his eyes and turned to Prota, but he wasn’t ready for the sight that greeted him.

She was staring right at him, her eyes shining with tears.

“But… I met John. And we had fun. John bought me things. Saved me. Made me yummy food. Helped me grow. Jinae trained me. Taught me. And Jinae is still alive. And Prota is powerful now. I met Destiny. Kit. Danjo. Albert. Bren. Hart. Olivia. And John.”

Tears dripped down Prota’s cheeks as her lips curved into a smile.

“And John. My brother. John is… family.”

Something about that last line made John’s words stick in his throat. Right. Just as Prota was his sister, he was her brother. He was her family. Maybe… maybe the [Author] hadn’t been such a douchebag after all. He’d remembered something.

Family didn’t always get along. There would be arguments. Disagreements. Misunderstandings, miscommunication and fights, but that didn’t stop them from being family. John had forced himself to get along with Prota because that was what he was used to.

Maintaining perfect relationships. Treating life as a game, getting the best possible outcome, erasing all his mistakes and making sure he never harmed anyone he didn’t want to hurt. Something like that was ideal. It was a plan that had little hassle, little that he couldn’t control. But Prota was someone he couldn’t do that with. She’d always remember. Always carry John’s mistakes in her heart. She wasn’t just his sister on paper. She was truly his sister. Someone who he’d pulled into the same, warped world he was forced to live in.

This misunderstanding. It hadn’t just been for some stupid little drama. There’d been almost no drama at all. But something had come out of this. Old memories stirred. Those of arguments, of disagreements, of trouble, but out of that, a stronger bond. A stronger friendship. Emotions, feelings and sensations.

What it was to be “human.”

“Prota, I-”

“So. Is Prota just a [Character]?”

“What?”

“John says the world is a [Story]. And we are all [Characters]. We all act a certain way. React certain ways. Do certain things. John can predict what will happen. What people will do. Because the world is a [Story].”

John froze. He knew he’d been telling Prota about this, but she’d never brought it up. Did she understand it now? John didn’t know how to feel about that. Was it right? Was it wrong?

“So… maybe Prota is also just a [Character]. Maybe John does things because he knows I’ll react in a certain way. John is my brother. But am I… just a [Character]?”

John opened his mouth. And then closed it. He opened it again, words on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t get them out. Prota watched with curiosity. She didn’t care if she was a [Character]. That wouldn’t change who John was to her. John would be with her. He wouldn’t leave her behind. But she wanted to know.

What was she to him?

“Prota,” John said quietly. He wasn’t looking at her. “You… I don’t know what you are.”

“...?”

“I don’t know a lot. I act like I do, but I don’t. There’s so much in this [Story] I don’t understand. Would Destiny have even gone to that village if I’d never come into this world? What would’ve happened if the demon king never got my powers? What would’ve… what would’ve happened to you?”

Prota just watched as John clenched his fists, his eyes glazing over as he lost himself in thought.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Prota. I don’t know what you are.”

There was a pause.

“I don’t know who I am.”

He reached up, wiping his face before looking away. The silence was once again filled with the sounds of nature. John seemed to be preparing himself to say something. Prota’s tears had long since dried up. Now, she just sat, watching in silence.

“But that doesn’t matter.”

John turned around, looking dead into her eyes. Something was burning in his eyes. Something new. It wasn’t anything specific, really. It couldn’t be called joy, determination, anger, sadness, none of that.

It was just pure, raw emotion.

“You might be a [Character]. I might be a [Character], too. Maybe I was just written to be sentient. Maybe all my memories were fabricated, and I’m just another cog in the wheel. Another [Character] who was cursed with knowledge. But does any of that matter?”

Prota flinched as John sprang from his chair, wrapping his arms around her.

“Everything we’ve done. Everything we’ll do. It’s our choice, right? Even if it isn’t, we can keep thinking it is. So if I want to be your brother, then that’s what I’ll choose.”

John leaned back, holding Prota’s shoulders and staring into her eyes.

“Prota. You are my sister. You always will be. So it doesn’t matter if you’re just a [Character]. Because that’s not important.”

Prota stared in shock. She hadn’t expected a speech like that from John. His manner of speech was normally casual, flippant, to the point where it generally felt out of place. But his tone… it was so serious. So dedicated. She reached up in surprise as she felt more tears flowing down her cheeks. She hadn’t realised it until now, but it felt as if a burden had been lifted off her chest. Had she been subconsciously worrying about it, even though she’d been telling herself that she wasn’t?

“Prota. I’m not fond of deep relationships. I don’t… they’re just, well, inconvenient, I guess. I’ve never been interested in stuff like that. But… maybe it’s time to give it another try. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be worth it this time, right?”

Prota nodded, burying her face into John’s chest. This birthday had been different. The joy and peace of last year was gone, but something just as valuable had happened this year. They’d grown. Over the course of that year, they’d changed. Prota wasn’t sure what had changed, but she could tell that things weren’t the same.

“Prota. Regardless of what we are. That doesn’t matter, ok? It doesn’t change who we want to be.”

Prota leaned back and nodded, squeezing her fists tight. The two leaned back, cheeks stained with tears, looking into the sunset. Suddenly, John burst out laughing. Prota actually jumped in surprise, looking over to see a wide grin on John’s face.

“Maybe this is all just an elaborate bait. But somehow, I feel like it isn’t. Maybe my luck’s turned around.” He burst out laughing again. “I don’t think I’ve ever said that before.”

Prota wasn’t sure what John found so funny, but she found his laugh to brighten her own mood. Despite the emotional fatigue she was experiencing, she couldn’t help but bask in the sea of joy that had flooded her. She, too, leaned back in her chair, letting the cushions wrap around her as the sea of serenity that had entered her heart remained calm.

“It doesn’t matter, Prota. We are what we want to be.”

Eventually, the sun set, and the two went inside. The soup was done, and John unceremoniously ladelled it out into bowls, the spicy fragrance wafting its way into Prota’s nose. It was a new smell to her. The spice tickled in a strange way, and the strange combination of savoury, spicy and sour was something new. John lifted the lid to the other pot and began scooping out fresh, warm rice, and Prota’s mouth began to water.

“Alright! Dig in.”

Prota eagerly ate. The soup was hot, but was worth burning her tongue over. The spice was surprising, but it was worth the flavour it brought. It was a smooth, calming soup, light and rich, mixing well with the soft and chewy rice. The pork was extremely flavourful and salty, the fattiness of the meat pairing well with the sourness and acidity of the vegetables. It was very different from the soup Destiny’s mother had cooked. That had been excellent, but it’d still been different. Still just a bit off.

Somehow, this felt like home.

Both of them ate until they were stuffed. John stored the pot away, saving the leftovers for later, and the two of them waddled their way to their room. There was no cake, but neither of them wanted one. They barely managed to clean up before tumbling into their beds. It’d been a long day.

Prota fell asleep first. The sound of her soft breathing filled the empty room, putting John at ease. He sat up and looked out the window, watching the full moon in the sky. So many things might’ve gone wrong, but in the end, he’d gotten so much more than he’d lost.

“John…”

John’s eyes snapped open, worried that something bad was happening.

“Thank you…”

Ah. That was it. John closed his eyes, a sense of tranquility spreading over him. He slowly drifted into sleep, pleasant thoughts filling his mind.