Chapter 1: I'll do what i want
Chapter Text
“Do you... want me to… stay?"
"...Go on. I’ll... I’ll be okay.”
He wanted her to stay—more than anything—but he knew it would only cause her more pain. Watching another child die would destroy her.
“Very well." Ceroba kept her expression composed, but the tension in her voice betrayed her. She was holding back tears. "...Goodbye, Clover. This... won’t be forgotten."
Clover watched as she turned away, disappearing around the corner where the others waited. The second she was gone, pain tore through his chest. The final threads of his SOUL snapped. He clutched his shirt, staggering before collapsing backward, barely managing to catch himself with a trembling arm.
Ceroba forced herself to keep walking. Every step away felt like a betrayal. She wanted to turn around, to run back, to throw her arms around him and force his soul back into his body. But what would it change? If he lived, it would only be for a few more days—until the royal guard came and dragged him from those who loved him. This was the only ending he could choose for himself.
As she rounded the corner, she found Martlet and Starlo waiting. Starlo’s head was bowed, his hat casting a shadow over his face. He was doing his best to keep it together. Martlet, fists clenched at her sides, looked like she was barely holding in a scream.
When she saw Ceroba, her voice came out quiet and shaking:
“Did he… not want you to stay?”
Ceroba shook her head. “No. He didn’t.”
Martlet stepped forward, heading toward the balcony—but Starlo gently reached out and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Fethers, are you sure you want to do this?” he asked softly. “It’ll hurt more in the long run—and he doesn’t want us there.”
At that name— Fethers —something flared in Martlet’s eyes. Anger. Clover was dying just meters away, and this was what Starlo chose to call her?
Without a word, she shrugged his hand off her shoulder and bolted, wings flaring wide as she took off toward Clover.
After a gruelling few seconds which seemed to pass by painstakingly slowly, Clover heard the flapping of wings.
Martlet
“You… don’t—” he tried to say as she landed beside him, but the words died in his throat as her wings wrapped around him.
Without hesitation, Martlet scooped him into her embrace, cradling him gently. She rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles.
“Please, Clover… just let me do this,” she whispered, voice trembling as she stroked his hair with one wing. “You deserve to be comforted in your last moments.”
“You’re the bravest, most selfless person I’ve ever met,” she said, voice tight with emotion. Clover was grateful—so incredibly grateful—to have her. There was no one else he would have wanted at that moment. He was glad she came.
With what little strength he had left, Clover reached out and wrapped his small hand around her wing, holding on tightly, knowing the sensation would fade soon.
“Thank… you,” he breathed. His voice was so weak, so small. He hated how it sounded. But Martlet deserved to hear his gratitude, no matter how faint.
She gave his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. She couldn’t stop what was happening, but she could ease his pain. She could make sure he wasn’t alone.
Martlet held him close against her chest, whispering in his ear. “You’re a hero, Clover. You won’t be forgotten.”
He hoped she was right. He wanted to believe he was doing what heroes did.
But now everything was blurring—blue and grey melting into darkness. He looked up at her one last time. Her smile was forced, but it was still warm. Still Martlet. He etched that expression into his fading mind, a final image to carry with him.
With his last bit of strength, Clover clutched her wing again, trying to hold on to that final comfort.
But even that was leaving him.
Her voice became muffled, lost in the rising ringing in his ears. He tasted iron in his mouth. Maybe it was okay, losing his senses. Maybe it meant the pain would stop soon.
Instead of fear, he chose peace. He let oblivion take him quietly. His hand went limp in hers, his eyes closed—though he hadn’t seen anything for a while.
He released one final breath as Martlet pulled him tighter to her chest.
If he had lasted just a moment longer, he might have felt the tears fall from above.
“Clover?” she gently shook him, she was on her knees, rocking back and forth to provide comfort to a … corpse. she wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that she had to carry his lifeless body to the castle or… no. nothing could be worse than that.
She continued to cradle him in her wings as she got up and headed back to the duo. Clover deserved a proper resting place, he after all he had been through, he should rest.
Chapter 2: Is it still you?
Chapter Text
Clover felt cold.
So very, achingly cold.
Not the kind of cold that stings your skin or creeps into your bones—no, this was something deeper. Something absolute. A cold that reached into the hollow where a body used to be and settled there like dust in an empty room. He didn’t even shiver. How could he? He had no skin to prickle, no muscles to tense, no lungs to breathe in the bite of frigid air. It was the kind of cold that simply was —constant, eternal.
And yet, somehow… he was still here.
It had been strange at first, not having a body. Clover remembered the moment his physical form had been torn away like a coat stripped in a storm. There was a brief, terrifying stretch where he kept expecting to feel something—pain, weight, wind, anything —but nothing came. He floated in silence, in a darkness so complete it might as well have been a void. Because it was. An actual void. The in-between.
It should’ve been terrifying.
And at first… it was.
But time wore down fear the way a river smoothed jagged stone. Eventually, he stopped expecting sensation and learned to sit with the stillness. It became familiar, in a way. Comforting, even.
Floating.
Suspended.
Alone.
He had no way of knowing how long he'd been like this. There were no days or nights here. No ticking clocks, no sunrises, no changes in temperature or pressure. Just darkness and that unrelenting, omnipresent cold. He suspected it had been weeks. Maybe months. Possibly even years. But even time had become irrelevant. It passed, or didn’t, and he simply existed within it.
He didn’t hate it, not really. It was better than being afraid. Better than being in pain. And when he found himself missing something — anything —he thought about his friends.
Martlet, soaring through open skies, finally free to stretch her wings in the sky and not worrying about accidentally flying into the cavern ceiling.
Starlo, dragging people to every surface-level Wild West attraction he could find, too stubborn to admit the real Wild West had died long before he’d been born.
Sometimes, in the dark, he felt things.
Small things. Fleeting pulses of warmth that reached through the nothingness and curled around his soul like hands around a flickering candle. They didn’t speak—at least, not in words—but something about them felt… familiar . Comforting. Like a memory wrapped in a hug. He liked to imagine his friends were talking to his soul.
He couldn’t hear them. Not really.
But he felt them.
And it helped.
Then, something changed.
At first, it was subtle. A prickling sensation along the edge of his essence—like the whisper of static electricity. Then it sharpened. Turned jagged. Wrong. Something was happening. Something that didn’t belong. Something invasive.
He didn’t know what it was, but he knew it was wrong.
He felt it like a tremor in his core, a deep, instinctive shudder that reverberated through the very fabric of his being. His soul— his very soul —shook with resistance, tried to pull away, to scream, to fight . But he had no voice. No form. Only fury. It was as though something, or someone , had reached into him and begun to twist. To drain.
And he could do nothing to stop it.
Time lost all meaning again. It might’ve lasted hours, Days, or even weeks.Whatever it was, it left him weak, frayed, stretched thin like parchment left out in the rain. He had never felt so helpless. So small.
Asgore floated above the destroyed city, well destroyed wasn't the correct word reborn he would of used, instead of a destroyed city of rubble and rot- godhood really did make this easy- he was able to turn it into something beautiful, a lush forest of buzzing bees and chirping birds, but he knew better then to enjoy this, he didn't deserve to ,this would have been one of the last major population centers he currently know of in the… country? That was what he thought they were , he… could have gone and finished humanity off,but they seemed to do that for him, he was about to be done with it all but he saw great big…mushrooms? Ah, wait, no. those were explosions, after he came back to his senses it seemed humanity didn't take kindly to millions disappearing in such a short time frame,
its not like they suffered, he spent a while in the underground making sure he would make it painless, a death feild, any human soul in its vicinity would shatter instantly, and he made sure to… dispose? Of the bodies but he couldn't do that for the ones near mount ebott, doing that would also cause the cities to disappear too. That would be one thing monsterkind would have to deal with when they got to the surface
It seemed he would be doing this whole healing thing for a while
*
After turning… What was it? nearly the whole world into its reverted state, his duty to his people was finally done. Should he return to his people? They would most likely accept him with open arms for breaking the barrier, returning monsterkind to the surface, and revising countless monsters from mear dust. But he diddent deserve that, he was a murderer, no, he committed genocide , he diddent deserve to go back to his people, he tried to downplay it, but there are… Well, where humans that where genuinely kind, that where pure, the souls of kindness and justice proved that. So no, he made his decision,
He took his ethereal tridents out that shined with the souls of the 7 humans,
And plunged it into his own chest
And then—just as suddenly—it was over.
The grip loosened. The pressure faded. And something else took hold—a gentle pull. Not violent, not invasive. Just… directional . Like a current. Like being drawn out to sea.
He didn’t know where he was going
It felt like Clover was being dragged above the sky despite not being able to see anything at all, he felt himself slow down even more as his soul seemed to nestle itself in some cold thing. As his soul finally stilled entirely, he felt it.
He felt his heartbeat. His breathing. His legs. His arms. His whole body—and it all hurt. Every breath was like inhaling a lungful of needles, and every twitch sent pain lancing through him. But lying there in agony wouldn’t help. He had to move.
With immense effort, he pried open his eyes. A dim room greeted him, only darkly illuminated by a dim ceiling light but it still stabbed directly into his skull, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut again.
Why is this so much effort?
He opened them again, slower this time. His vision gradually adjusted to the low light. He took in the room: a whiteboard cluttered with drawings of human anatomy and soul diagrams, piles of books and notes stacked beside his bed, and a machine with a large screen glowing faintly across the room. Standing beside it was a dark purple fox monster, their attention locked on the monitor.
Something about them felt oddly familiar.
He wanted to call out—but when he tried to speak, all that came out was a raspy, wet sputter. Pain erupted in his chest as it convulsed under the strain of the attempt.
“Clover!” The fox’s voice broke the silence. They turned sharply and rushed to his side.
Clover barely noticed, too focused on his breathing. His hands went to his mouth—wait. That felt... strange. Off. Wrong. The proportions weren’t right. The texture. The shape. Not hands. Not his hands.
He felt furred fingers on his shoulders as the fox gently lifted him into a sitting position, rubbing his back in slow, careful motions.
As Clover blinked up at them, recognition finally struck. “...Chujin?” His mind raced. Wasn’t Chujin dead?
His thoughts spiraled, but he said nothing, just nodded weakly as he focused on slowing his breathing. Questions could come later.
“Before you ask,” Chujin said softly, “No, you're not dead.”
Clover exhaled shakily and sank back into the pillow.
“I know you’re probably still processing everything, but... have you had a look at yourself yet?” Chujin asked, gently, as if trying to pad the inevitable blow.
Clover shook his head.
“Here.” Chujin retrieved a mirror and held it at an angle, giving Clover a full view without making him strain.
“You might not be strong enough to do much right now—and that’s okay. It’s probably a side effect of... well, all of this.”
Clover finally turned his gaze toward the mirror.
A bird stared back at him.
His breath caught. His face—his whole body—it was... avian. Hawk-like, not unlike Martlet, but still wholly his own. His eyes were a piercing orange, weird, they where yellow before. His feathers shimmered with shades of brown, but his wings now looked like they contained flickers of a golden nebula. His beak and talons gleamed with a polished yellow hue.
No cowboy hat, he thought absently. A quiet disappointment.
He slowly—carefully—raised a wing to inspect it. The movement was awkward and foreign. It felt like trying to use a stranger’s limbs.
He was a little… sad that he wasn't a human anymore, but there had to be a reason! It was probably the only way he could come back as… whatever he was now. It wouldn't be the easiest thing to adjust for this new body , but he was up to the challenge.
“Yes, it’s a bit of a shock, But it was necessary... for a number of reasons.” he admitted “I’ll give you some time to take it in. If you need anything, just wave me over, okay?”
Clover nodded faintly, still examining the mirror. The moment didn’t feel real—but it was. He was alive. Again. And very different.
Chujin paused at the door. “Oh—and it’s just me, Ceroba, and Kanako here right now. Along with one of the other fallen humans.” At the mention of his Ceroba, the woman who beat him within a inch his life, he tensed up, not enough for chujin to notice though.
“I’ll go let the others know you’re finally up. Don’t worry—they’re aware of your... condition. No one’s going to crush you with a hug.”
Chujin smiled—genuinely, for the first time in a while—and slipped out.
Left alone, Clover let the mirror rest on the nearby desk, nestled among a dozen worn books. Even that small movement left him winded. I guess being dead—or, well, whatever I was—really takes it out of you. Not to mention having an entirely new body.
He closed his eyes.
For the first time in what felt like forever, real, undisturbed rest finally came.
-
Chujin looking at a sleeping Clover gave him a pit of dread in his stomach. How was he supposed to tell him that his whole family was dead? He wasn't sure what to think. After hearing from Ceroba how he refused to talk about his life on the surface he… hoped?, was that the right word, that he was an orphan, however dark he thought that was, he hoped it was true. Sure, the kind souls' reaction wasn't the best to someone telling them that their whole family, their friends, and 7 billion humans were dead because of their soul. However both of two gave up their soul willingly, and after learning quite suddenly from kindness as they practically threw themselves off the bed, screaming, when they woke up to Kanakos bullet greeting it only made him feel worse about integrity, knowing the brunt of people that harmed them where just well meaning monsters that probably didn't even know they were human.
“AXIS? AXIS, WHERE ARE YOU?!”
Goddamn it, where was that damn robot? He’d spent nearly an hour searching. He loved the thing to bits—but holy angel, it was infuriating sometimes. Vanishing like that, speeding off on its own to find that human. What part of stay put had it not understood?
“AXIS, WH—”
He froze.
There it was. Axis.
And a few feet in front of it... that .
“CREATOR, I HAVE NEUTRALIZED THE HUMAN,” Axis said, voice flat and proud.
He looked down.
The human—what was left of them—was barely recognizable. One arm had been torn clean off, arterial blood still spurting from the shoulder. A leg bent at an angle no joint should allow. But it was the head that undid him.
From the jaw up, it was just gone.
A breath caught in his throat—hot, sharp, sour. He turned away, staggered toward the nearby lake, dropped to his knees, and plunged his hands into the water. Then came the retching. Violent, relentless, gut-twisting. He stayed there, hands submerged, as his stomach emptied into the current.
He was so sure things turned to dust when they died .
…
I… should probably go let the others know Clover’s awake, Chujin thought.
He sighed, then pushed himself off the SOUL monitor with a bit more force than intended, realizing only then how heavily he'd been leaning on it. Clover’s SOUL had finished repairing itself hours ago, but the longer it took for him to wake up, the more uneasy Chujin became. He figured it was just a side effect—human biology infused with monster magic, all stabilized by raw Determination.That couldn’t have helped.
He stepped away from the console and started toward the exit. As much as he hated giving that fraud of an ex-royal scientist any credit, he was grateful for the extensions she’d built into the lab. This part of the facility—quiet, cleaner, and less... haunting—was far better suited to work like this. He’d take it over the so-called “true lab” any day.
As the sliding doors whispered shut behind him, Chujin spotted his wife, Ceroba, sitting silently in the lounge. She noticed him the instant the door closed—ears twitching, head snapping toward the sound.
He crossed the room and dropped into the chair across from her with a heavy sigh.
“He’s up,” he said quietly.
Ceroba didn’t react right away. Her expression stayed carefully neutral, mirroring his. Only her hands, clenched in her lap, betrayed any emotion.
“That’s… good,” she replied, voice flat.
Chujin nodded slowly. “Yeah. He seems fine.”
He paused. Then, carefully: “But he… won't be when we… tell him .”
Ceroba’s gaze drifted past him, unfocused. “That’s to be expected.”
“Right.”
Silence settled between them again—long, heavy, and uncomfortable.
Ceroba knew she should feel something like joy. Clover had returned. After everything, after the pain and the loss, they had him back. But all she could feel was a hollow kind of ache.
He was alive. But the world he returned to wasn’t kind. And the ones who had cheered for the end of his people would still be there.
Maybe the new queen would change things. Maybe monsterkind would someday grieve what was lost. But Ceroba had stopped putting faith in royals a long time ago.
The silence broke with the soft hiss of the far door sliding open. A small figure stepped inside—fur dark purple, like Chujin, with streaks of green at the tips, like a little Chujin kit who’d rolled around in a freshly cut lawn.
Both older foxes turned sharply. The kit startled at the attention, shoulders tensing, ears flicking low as their paws fidgeted with the edge of their sleeve.
Chujin offered a gentle smile, trying to break the tension. “Ah, if it isn’t… Kindness? Still haven’t settled on a name?”
He watched the kit approach, still struck by how strange it all felt—how little they remembered from their time as a human. Nothing but the vague instinct that magic used to hurt. That was it. No names, no faces, no past—just the residual reflex to dodge bullet patterns. Not that it mattered anymore. Now that they were a monster, dodging wasn't necessary. He also wasn't quite sure what to make with them, an adopted kid? Even though they were technically biologically related he… didn't think he wanted to adopt them, he wasn't even sure if the queen would let him after showing her his tapes as a part of the openness policy (not the one behind his grave.)
The kit shifted slightly, glancing between them before speaking in a voice barely above a whisper.
“U-um… actually… Kanako and I… we—we thought a lot about it,” they said, their words gentle and careful. “We… we picked something.”
They gave a small, polite bow of the head, clearly trying their best. “She’ll be here soon… she just… forgot something on the other side of the lab. W-we’ll tell you when she’s back…”
Ceroba’s expression softened. Kindness wasn’t confident, but they were sincere. Earnest. And, well… kind. You could hear the warmth behind their nerves..
They padded over with small, cautious steps and climbed into the third chair between them, sitting with their hands folded neatly in their lap—quiet, respectful, but present.
The soft hum of the lab filled the room again, calm but tense. Kindness sat between the two older foxes, small paws folded in their lap, tail curled close like it could shield them from too much attention. Ceroba and Chujin shared a brief glance. Ceroba remembered that Chujin had always wanted a bigger family—though he probably hadn’t meant it like this.
Then the far door hissed open once more.
Kanako entered, holding a large piece of paper in one hand, the other braced on her knee. Her fur was ruffled from a quick dash, but her eyes lit up the second she spotted the kit at the table.
“Sorry! There were just soooo many, I forgot which one was our final pick.”
She shuffled over and gently dropped the paper onto the table, the edges unfurling slightly as she exhaled. “Alright! Are we ready to go through all our terrible ideas again?”
Kindness nodded shyly. “Y-yeah…”
Kanako gave them a warm grin before carefully smoothing out the paper. It was covered in doodles, scribbles, and crossed-out names in every kind of handwriting—some clearly Kindness’s, others Kanako’s. There were stars next to some, frowny faces next to others.
“Okay,” Kanako said, pointing. “We ruled out Starlit because you thought it sounded too dramatic.”
Kindness nodded.
“Mm-hm. Kakiko was kind of cool, but that’s a bit too much like my name,” Kanako added, placing a paw dramatically on her chest.
“And Starshine … but that’s a bit too much like Uncle Star,” she murmured.
Ceroba gave a short, dry chuckle under her breath.
“But…” Kanako tapped a circled name in the middle of the sheet, written in careful, steady handwriting.
“ Starshi ,” she said simply.
“You came up with that one, right?” she asked.
Kindness looked at it sheepishly. “Yeah.”
Chujin smiled faintly. “It suits you.”
Ceroba gave a slow nod. “Starshi, then.”
Kindness—no, Starshi —smiled. Small, but real.
“T-thank you.” Starshi said.
Chapter 3: What we left behind
Chapter Text
Chujin stepped into the waiting area where Ceroba and Starshi were seated, it was probably for the best that Kanako was currently at the sunnyside farm with Starlo, she probably shouldn't be here for this. “Toriel finally found the right papers for those two,” he announced, trying to sound upbeat despite the tight knot forming in his chest. He dreaded what might be inside the folders he carried. “She said it took her a long time to find everything in the clutter...”
He stopped himself before finishing the sentence: "...of the orphanage where the other fallen had come from." They already knew that. No need to remind them.
With a quiet thump , he set two compact files down on the table. Sitting beside them, he gently opened the folders. The papers inside were creased, aged, and fragile, but each bore a name that carried immense weight: Sunny Bloom on one… and Clover Marshall on the other—the names of the two revived fallen.
Ceroba glanced at the green-tinted kit beside her. “Are you sure you want to… see this?” she asked gently, noting the worried look on Starshi’s face.
Starshi was silent for a long moment, searching for the right words. “Yes,” she said at last, voice already thick with emotion. “I might be a different… person now, but I still… I need to know what I left behind.” Her words wavered, uncertain even as she spoke them.
“Alright,” Ceroba said softly. “Just don’t feel like you have to do this, okay?”
Starshi gave a small nod.
Chujin carefully slid the file labeled Sunny Bloom toward her. The paper creased slightly under the pressure of his clawed hand as it moved across the table.
The green-furred kit took the file in her paws, glancing anxiously between the two monsters. She squirmed in her chair under their gaze.
“Can I… read this by myself?” she asked quietly. As much as she didn’t want to seem cowardly, she couldn’t bear to be watched in that moment.
Realizing they’d all been staring, the others quickly looked away.
“Of course,of course,” Ceroba said quickly, breaking the awkward silence.
Starshi clutched the file to her chest and hurried out of the room, her steps quick and quiet.
Chujin watched her leave, a hollow pit growing in his stomach. She wasn’t exactly Clover—but she was still a pure soul. Someone like him. Like Clover . And once, he had asked his wife to kill that boy.
To ask that of someone you love… and still think of yourself as good?
He… really had gone off the deep end hadn't he?
He remembered what he had learned: magic affected humans like a blade. It made him rethink everything about the Snowdin incident. It wasn’t a dust-thirsty human tearing through monsters for fun—it was a frightened child, lashing out in a world where everyone wanted them dead. A world where a simple “hello” might have been the death of them.
If only he had—
“Chujin.”
The voice of his wife cut through the spiral of guilt before it dragged him any deeper.
“…Yes?” he answered, pulling himself back to the present.
They were both quiet for a moment, then gently Cerona reached for the second file—the one marked Clover Marshall . Her claws hovered over the worn paper before she opened it with a soft sigh. Chujin leaned in, though part of him wanted to look away. He wasn’t sure if he had the right to read what was inside.
The top sheet was a summary. It listed basic information—cold, clinical lines of text—but each one felt like a punch to the chest.
Name: Clover Marshall
Date of Birth: March 3rd
Age at Time of disappearance: 11
Family:
Mother: Leona Marshall
Father: Alex Marshall
Behavioral Notes: Exhibited signs of anxiety and post-traumatic stress, but opens but quickly to people who nice to him
Academic Standing: severely lacking in all subjects (look into this)
Medical Notes: Multiple untreated injuries recorded during intake; suspected history of physical abuse from his mother, as his father was nearly entirely absent from his childhood.
“I… I need a minute,” Ceroba said abruptly, her voice cracking. She sat up, then rushed into the elevator leading to the true lab.
As the elevator descended, a memory clawed its way out from the back of her mind—one she had tried to forget. It was after Clover had defeated her in New Home.
“It was worth the risk to me,” the defeated kitsune had muttered. You treated him like an animal... like livestock to be slaughtered.
Her stomach turned.
“But now... my life is over. For nothing. For no one.”
You still had people. Support.
But Clover? He had nothing. No one, even before he fell .
“Why wouldn’t you just…”
You had treated him like an object.
Like he wasn’t even a person.
“This place is just like home” Clover said through tear-filled eyes—just as the groaning of Martlet and Starlo made Ceroba and Clover snap their heads toward the sound
The memory faded as the elevator doors opened. Ceroba stumbled out, her legs barely holding her up. She drifted through the lab’s cold, sterile silence until she found the bed— that bed. The one Kanako had once lain in for nearly three years.
She sank to her knees beside it, arms folding over the edge of the mattress, her head dropping onto its unyielding surface.
This is where you left a child to suffer. Alone. scared.
She wanted to argue with the voice. To find some excuse, to find some reason it was wrong.
But there was none.
So she did the only thing she could.
She cried.
Cried for the child turned into a weapon—after swearing she’d improve and do better.
Cried for abandoning her daughter in this cursed place.
Cried because she had failed two children that trusted her.
Ceroba didn't know how long she stayed there, sobbing into the stiff sheets. The silence of the lab pressed in on her, unrelenting, but it was the silence within herself—the absence of justification, of defense—that made her feel like she was sinking into the floor.
But if there was one thing Ceroba was good at, it was swallowing her own emotions.
She shakily pushed herself to her feet, claws curling into the bed sheets—ripping them in the process. She realized her mistake too late and quickly let go, her breath catching.
This bed, this room, would probably never be used again. Most monsters lived on the surface now. Still, it felt wrong— deeply wrong—to damage the space her daughter had been confined to for nearly a year.
She turned away, heading back toward the elevator, hoping Starshi was done reading the documents. If she was lucky, she could slip back into the room unnoticed.
And to her quiet relief, she did—just as the young kit’s voice filled the space.
“–So… yeah, I don’t know how to feel, exactly. I never really had one to begin with, so I can’t really say I miss them… can I?”
Ceroba sank silently into the chair opposite the two of them. Starshi snapped their maw shut the moment they noticed her. Ceroba’s heart sank.
I messed up again, didn’t I? That’s all I’m good for. One screw-up after anoth—
“Miss Ceroba?”
The voice cut through her thoughts like a blade.
“Yes?” she replied after a heartbeat, steadying her voice so it wouldn’t come out cold or tired.
“We were just talking about… my life before,” Starshi said, fiddling with the paper in their hand before setting it gently on the table. “And, well… I never really had a family. Was dropped off at the orphanage as a baby.”
Ceroba blinked. Her mouth opened slightly in disbelief. Abandoned by their parents? She didn’t consider herself the perfect mother by any means, but even at her lowest… she could never imagine doing that to kanako.
She didn’t know what to say. Would they even want to be adopted? Starshi had called Chujin “Dad” once, before learning they had once been human. But that was only really because of the similarities and they didn't even know what they were . But the queen would oppose it. And Starshi… maybe they would too, if they ever learned the full truth about what she and Chujin had done.
Ceroba hesitated, unsure.
Thankfully, Chujin stepped in.
“Cero—” he started, but she cut him off quickly.
“So, Starshi,” she said, voice a little too fast, too eager to redirect, “what would you like to do now?”
Starshi blinked, caught off guard. But they didn’t seem upset by the question.
“Um… if it’s okay… can I stay with you?” they asked, voice softer now. “At least for a while? I’d like to think about it. It is my future we’re talking about.”
They had already been staying with them for the past month, mostly for therapy and recovery, getting used to the new body.
Ceroba and Chujin both felt their hearts swell.
They looked at each other, wordlessly asking the same question.
Chujin gave a small nod.
Ceroba turned back to Starshi with a gentle smile.
“Of course. Stay as long as you like.”
There was a pause—warm, but heavy with everything unsaid. Then Chujin straightened a bit and cleared his throat.
“I’ll make a few calls,” he said softly, already pulling out his communicator. “Send some messages out. Let everyone know… Clover’s up.”
Chapter 4: Collateral Damage
Chapter Text
It didn’t take Chujin long to let Clover’s friends know he was finally up. Marlet showed up almost immediately—she’d been napping at the estate when she got the call.Midday. She’d changed a lot over the past two years since Clover had… well, died. According to Ceroba, it was for the better. He was proud of his apprentice.
It was just going to be Chujin, Marlet, Ceroba, and Kin—no, Starshi , now. Right. That was her name now. He still couldn’t help being a little disappointed that Dalv wasn’t coming. No one had seen him since the barrier broke, which was… concerning. And Starlo was busy working on the surface farm. Ever since Asgore brought back all those long-dead monsters, the population had nearly tripled. Magic food wasn’t cutting it anymore. Everyone was trying to adjust to eating human—er, surface food. Physical food? Chujin wasn’t sure what the right term was. Probably safer to just go with whatever the queen had decided to call it.
He didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought. The door opened, and in came Alphys, clutching a tray filled with syringes with green fluids inside. About ten. She looked one wrong word away from a total meltdown, with the syringes jittering in place on the tray. Nearly Everyone in the room was already glaring holes into her, minus Chujin himself, since he wasn't really innocent here. And Starshi, because she was oblivious.
Chujin figured it probably wasn’t the best idea for her to be holding those things in her current state.
“Want me to take those?” he offered.
Alphys gave a trembling nod, visibly relieved. Chujin stood and took the tray from her—but the second it was in his hands, a chill went down his spine. He was literally holding pieces of Starshi’s SOUL.
Carefully, he set the tray down on the nearby table and started organizing the syringes in a desperate attempt to stall the conversation he knew was coming.
“Clover should be out for a little while longer,” he said, finishing organising the syringes.
Then, picking up one of the green syringes, he turned toward Starshi. “In the meantime… Do you want this back?”
Starshi tilted her head like a confused puppy. “What?”
Chujin cursed himself internally for not explaining earlier. “Right. Uh. So while you were…” He hesitated, avoiding the word dead . “…a SOUL, the royal scientist here—” he nodded toward Alphys “—she extracted some of your Determination. From your SOUL. To—”
“What?” Starshi’s voice was flat, but sharp enough to cut steel. She turned on Alphys so fast it was like her body had snapped into place.
If looks could kill the royal scientist would be a pile of dust under her gaze.
“You were conscious while I did that?” Alphys asked, already pale, her voice trembling as if she didn’t want to believe her own words.
Starshi blinked, stunned for half a second. “ That was you?! ” Her voice cracked. “I thought—I thought I was in some kind of hell! ”
Alphys flinched like she’d been slapped. “I-I didn’t—I didn’t know you were aware! I thought it was just… energy! I didn’t see any responses—no signs of higher function, just a SOUL—j-just—!”
She was unraveling fast. But no one in the room moved to stop it, they all felt she desverd this.
“I wasn’t responding,” Starshi hissed,“because I couldn't!”
“I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know what I was. I thought I was in some sort of hell, or purgatory!”
The room had gone dead quiet. The only sound was the sharp hitch in Starshi’s breath.
Alphys looked like she wanted to be absorbed into the floor.
“I… I swear, S-starshi, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered. “If I’d known you were—really you —I would’ve never—”
“But you did! ” Starshi’s voice cracked again, louder this time. Hurt and fury braided together like a splintered wire. “You did , I felt everything, like I was being torn in half from the inside. ”
Starshi stood trembling, arms wrapped around herself like they were the only thing keeping her upright. The silence that followed her words felt too big for the room—too heavy.
Alphys stayed crumpled in the spot,her already small height dwindling, her glasses askew, She looked small. Broken.
Chujin exhaled through his nose and stepped fully between them, blocking Starshi’s line of sight to Alphys before it got any worse. He crouched, meeting the scientist’s gaze.
“Alphys,” he said, calm but firm, “I think it’s time you continue working on other things, don't you think? We have this covered.”
She blinked slowly, as if hearing him from far away.
“I—” Her voice cracked. “You can do the rest yourself.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She rose unsteadily to her feet, wobbling like someone just learning how to walk again. Then she turned and walked—no, fled —from the room,like she was holding in whatever was left of her composure until she made it out of earshot.
For a moment, there was only the sound of Chujin fiddling with the tray of syringes on the side table, carefully.
Then he turned back to Starshi. “Are you okay?”
It was a stupid question, and he knew it.
“No… just… angry,” Starshi muttered, arms crossed tight across her chest. She let out a sharp little huff.
Chujin nodded softly. “That’s fair.”
He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, then eased himself down to sit beside her on the floor. Not too close. But just enough to put a paw on her shoulder to comfort her.
Starshi sat with it for a few moments, but her thoughts were still racing. There was a question she’d been turning over in her head, one that wouldn’t leave her alone. It didn’t change the subject exactly… but she had to ask.
“Why are there so many more green ones?” she said, eyes flicking toward the tray.
Chujin paused. Truthfully, he didn’t know. He was about to say so when he noticed a folded piece of paper tucked beneath the edge of the tray—something he’d somehow missed before.
“Hmm. Hold on,” he said gently, reaching for it. “I think this might explain it.”
He unfolded the note and sat beside her as she scooted a little closer, both of them reading the scribbled handwriting together.
*
The reason there are so many green ones, and no yellow.
is because Asgore asked me to extract Determination from as few SOULs as possible.
Determination naturally regenerates in human SOULs, so I was able to get all the extract I needed from just the first three fallen humans.
Starshi was the second to fall. That means she’s one of the few whose Determination was actually extracted.
That's also why there are no syringes with Clover’s Determination.
I'm assuming Starshi won't react kindly to what i've done so i have left this here so you can both better understand.
“So h-” chujin began
“I will be back in a bit… just before clover is up, you sort out a plan for telling him” it looked like Starshi’s SOUL was making his movements for him in how deliberate them
“O-ok! Stay safe!” Chujin called out as Starshi turned a corner
Chuijin figured he was about to blow off some steam or something, it probably wasent something he needed to coddle him over.
Chujin had been lost in his own thoughts—half-watching Starshi, half-letting the strange quiet settle over him—when the low muttering behind him started to grow sharper. He glanced back, brow furrowing.
Martlet and Ceroba had been deep in discussion for a while now, far enough from him and Starshi that their voices had mostly blended into the background hum of the lab.It sounded like an argument, though he couldn’t quite make out the words.
Snippets cut through the air.
“No, I should be th—”
He turned fully, speaking up before things could spiral. “Hey, you two okay?”
Ceroba looked up first. Her face was tight, stern as always—but beneath that, something brittle tugged at the corners of her mouth. A hint of exhaustion. Of guilt.
“No, Chujin,” she replied plainly, her voice low. “Martlet and I are just… figuring out who should be the one to tell Clover what Asgore did with his SOUL.”
She said the last word like it tasted foul in her mouth—like she was still choking on it.
Chujin blinked, letting the weight of that statement settle between them before asking, “Right… and have you two figured out who it’s going to be?”
There was a pause.
Then, in unison: “No.”
He sighed softly. “Okay, well… have you considered maybe telling him together ?”
Martlet opened her beak to respond just as Ceroba’s maw parted, but both of them froze—whatever they were about to say caught in their throats. Their eyes met for a moment, unreadable emotions flashing silently between them: regret, grief… fear.
They didn’t need to speak. That glance said everything.
Martlet finally nodded, her voice quiet. “Okay.”
Ceroba looked away, tail flicking in restrained tension. “…Fine,” she muttered, dry but not dismissive.
Chujin gave a slow nod. “Alright. Not right away though, You want to show him you care, in case he does anything… irrational ”
He hesitated, his next words almost slipping past his tongue. Or ever , he thought grimly. But he held it back.
Ceroba’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. “Right.”
“Right,” Martlet echoed, softer, more distant. Her wings folded tight to her sides as though she were trying to hug herself.
Line
Starshi hated this. She hated all of it.
She didn’t remember being human—didn’t remember how she died, where, or even why —but the absence didn’t make it easier. If anything, it made the ache worse. An undefined, gnawing pain buried in her chest. Something had been stolen from her.
She had been treated like material. that. Fucking. jar. Like something to be mined. Extracted. Used.
And she had paid the price alone.
Clover hadn’t gone through what she had. None of the others had been hollowed out like her. No one else-alive at least-had endured the quiet, screaming madness that came from having pieces of their SOUL ripped from them.
So when her SOUL started to burn in her chest—pushing her, dragging her forward—she didn’t fight it.
She let it.
Her claws clenched into fists as her body jerked forward, a tremor running through her spine. Her first thought, when she felt that heat take over her limbs, was to find the scientist—to make her hurt for everything. For all of it.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she stormed past Alphys without a word, without a glance, the heavy metal doors of the lab hissing open in her wake.
Out into Hotland. The oppressive heat barely registered through the roaring fire building beneath her skin. Her feet carried her further. Then down into the quiet mist of Waterfall.
Here, the world cooled.
But not her.
Here, the humidity clung to her fur, the ground damp and soft underfoot. The stillness should have soothed her, but instead it made the fire in her chest blaze hotter. Her SOUL was pulsing so loudly now, it was hard to think.
She stopped. Finally, Her breathing ragged, her claws trembling.
She understood now.
This was why she was almost… grateful no one lived in the Underground anymore.
No one left to judge. No one left to scold. No one left to
care
.
Her SOUL wasn’t just angry—it was livid . It clawed at her ribs, not out of hate, but desperation. It didn’t want revenge. It wanted release. The fire building in her chest wasn’t wrath, not entirely—it was pressure. Tension. The kind that begged to be let out before it tore her apart from the inside.
No one would miss a scorched patch of earth.
Good thing Ceroba had taught her how to control the more aggressive parts of her magic. Because this? This felt dangerous. This felt destructive.
She whipped her head around, eyes darting through the thick blue mist.
There—a secluded cavern. Quiet. Shielded from view. Isolated enough that if something went wrong…
She sprinted toward it.
As soon as she reached the center of the cavern, Starshi dropped to her knees and dug her claws deep into the damp earth. The soil parted too easily—too soft, too forgiving—and it did nothing to cool the furnace raging inside her.
Frustration pulsed through her fingertips.
She let her magic bleed out through her paws, pouring into the ground beneath her. The moisture in the soil hissed and spat as steam rose in gentle tendrils, curling into the air. The warmth spread outward, and the ground around her began to change—no longer wet and pliant, but dry, brittle. The top layer cracked and hardened into crusted flakes, more like the cracked skin of a sun-baked desert than the lush cavern floor it had once been.
But it still wasn’t enough.
The anger hadn't burned out. The heat still coiled in her chest, in her soul. but no matter how much magic she poured into the ground, it couldn’t take the fury with it. Not all of it.
She clenched her jaw. Her claws scraped against dry, hot stone. And still, she burned.
With a shaky breath, she pressed her paws deeper into the earth—no longer trying to calm herself, but simply expel . Let it all out. The fire surged again, rushing down her arms and through her claws like a second pulse. Red light bloomed outward from where she knelt, threads of green dancing along the edges like veins of something living, corrupted.
The heat spread wider than before. The air shimmered. Dry grass along the cavern’s edge hissed and curled inward as if flinching from her touch. Patches of moss blackened and peeled back, and a low, painful creak came from the roots of a nearby tree.
She glanced up, chest heaving, eyes stinging from the heat—and saw it.
A single tree a good 5 meters away from her , its bark already turning brittle from the heat, its leaves wilting. Her magic had reached it. Red embers danced across the trunk, crackling in slow pulses, while specks of green fire flickered through its branches.It didn’t ignite—no, the moisture kept the tree from fully igniting—but it suffered all the same. Steam rose from its base, curling around the scorched roots.
It wasn’t the tree’s fault.
None of it was.
The tree didn't do anything wrong, and it still suffered, it did everything right, it lived and grew and did nothing wrong and she hurt it. She wasn't any better than that royal scientist.
Then she let her head drop down. It was still there. All of it. The fury. The betrayal. The sense that she'd been shaped into something useful, not someone.
Her breath hitched as she swayed on her feet, then shakily dropped to her knees. The heat was fading now—not because it was gone, but because it had drained her. Her body felt hollow, like something had been wrung out of her. She pressed her hands into the still-warm earth, steadying herself.
And then, slowly, she stood.
She stumbled out of the cavern, out of Waterfall’s quiet dampness and cool shadows.
Clover would be up soon, and she would be lying if she said she didn't want someone that knew what it would be like, even just a little bit.
Chapter 5: Update
Chapter Text
Hello!
Currently i am unhappy with how the story is going and i am going to rewrite the whole thing up till chapter 4, the baseline story is going to stay the same, there was so much i wanted to add but felt like it would get too messy but i changed my mind!
I have big plans for this fanfic in the future and i hope i can tell the story i want nicely, also sorry for being inactive for so long, i got a little burnt out but i am back!
im not deleating this fic but alot will change.