Title: Le Héros d’un Autre
Author: Lainx
Rating: /
Warnings: Blood, fights, violence
Summary:
Superheroes
are beings of great powers. They have the ability to save the planet, to keep
lives from being crushed by the forces of evil.
But as they fight against the legendary enemies
of mankind, can they save their own existences from the throes of darkness?
In which the most dangerous and powerful being
may not be the most evident one – or how it takes another hero to help fend off
the shadows of the soul.
Link to A03: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9641318
My name’s Victor Nikiforov. I’m tall, handsome,
Russian. My eyes are of an incredibly attractive blue. My hair is silver – born
like that, never going to dye it. I love discovering new people and new
countries. My favorite things in the world include ice-skating, great food and
my adorable poodle, Makkachin. I have been working as a choreographer for three
years.
And I’m a superhero.
Superheroes used not to be common things, my
mother told me. Before, the world was a safer place – a bit less enchanted,
sure, but safer nonetheless. No megalomaniac supervillains ever tried to
overthrow the governments, no crazy cold-hearted beings attacked civilians just
“because they could”.
A simpler time, she would say, stroking my hair
affectionately.
My powers started to show very early. I was
having a nightmare, and the last thing my parents knew, my room got covered in
a strange and solid substance, very slippery. They thought it was ice, at first
– but as it did not melt, and did not exude cold, they had been forced to admit
that the heater was still working fine and that their son definitely was not a
regular human being.
Since then, I have learned to control this
power of mine. I grew strong, and fast. The substance I could create by the
sheer force of my will became thicker, more refined. I learned to build precise
paths with it, paths on which I ran and slid at an incredible speed. I
practiced making it so thin I could see through it, but so solid even a bullet
could not shatter it. I became able to jump highly through the air, coming down
graciously, supported by millions of tiny bubbles of “incky” (the name I gave
to my production).
The possibilities were endless. I could
extinguish a fire just by projecting incky on the flames. I could secure
falling bridges, stop collisions between trains, and restrain violent villains
in massive incky bubbles.
I used to get bullied at school for my silver
hair and my feminine looks – but after a while, the sneers stopped, replaced by
whispers and awed looks. I began being called for help by citizens. The
government offered me a financing program. I started being recognized in the
streets, people would send me presents.
Life was pretty good, I admit. I could have
easily stopped going to class or even, later, working, but instead I chose to
leisurely do a job I really loved, not afraid of taking time to choreograph just what I wanted – my other activities
would cover all my expenses anyway.
My feelings started to change after a series of
fights against several villains, all working together. I had not been the only
superhero dedicated to the task – but I have
been the one to terminate six of them. I knew I had been working for the
greater good, that it was one life against hundreds, but it still was a harsh
action.
The last fight took place in Tokyo. A grandiose
city, one I had longed to visit. People were screaming in fear before the
thirty meters tall monster menacing them. Flames were burning in its mouth and
each of its steps was a threat to the lives of the Japanese citizens. My job
had been to protect those under its mammoth feet. A swarm of villains were
surrounding their creature, ready to wreak havoc on the streets.
It was the most violent fight I ever took part
in. Blood was pouring from everywhere. Crowds were running, shouting, hiding
under cars. I kept throwing incky weapons at my opponents – my favorite and
most reliable method was to conjure incky inside of them, and then form a
bubble with it. It was swift and radical. I was desperate to end the fight as
soon as possible – civilians were dying, the number of victims already seemed
way too high to me.
I had to set myself loose. Become a flood of
pure power. Not think anymore.
From the moment I decided to let my power
explode, the fight turned in our favor. My eyes were glowing, my long hair
seemed alive around me. I shifted so quickly I seemed to be flying. Dozens of
people shattered before me, while I threw waves after waves of incky at the
monster, finally stopping its course. One of my side-kicks, Christophe
Giacometti, unleashed a deluge of flames at the titan, which skin detached from
its bones. With a conjugated effort, several heroes ended up cutting its head,
putting an end to its unnatural existence.
The spectacle was horrible. We looked so
terrifying – heroes or villains could not be set apart anymore except for their
outfits.
And then it was over, and the monster head was
neatly put on the ground next to the hundreds of restraint attackers. My wilderness
wouldn’t abate, however, and I kept jumping from one incky construction to another,
surveilling for remaining survivors or enemies.
That’s when I came across the most beautiful,
artful and out of place thing ever.
Next to a broken lamppost, a little child was
sitting, bellowing in fear, their cheeks covered with big, fat tears, while
they were clutching a battered school bag. Something tugged in my chest, and I
reduced my speed, ready to comfort them. However, as I started making my way toward
them, they shouted in fear, hiding behind their bad and cowered.
I was going to try explaining who I was, but a man beat me to it. Dressed in an
elegant dark blue superhero suit, he knelt in front of the child, cooing all
the while.
“Hey, hey, now, look at me, look at me. It’s
over, it’s over. Look at what I can do, isn’t it pretty?”
As he was talking, the man was moving his
hands, forcing glitter out of his fingers. The child immediately stopped
shivering, fixated on the patterns the glitter was sketching in the air. I
could faintly hear the music and the sweet smell it generated. Startled, I
recognized an ice-skater dancing, laughing and jumping. His red and gold suit
complimented his dark skin, and the friendly love emanating from the illusion
made my throat close up.
“Victor is not evil, see? He stopped shining.
He won’t hurt you.” the stranger reassured the child. “Ah, isn’t that skater magnificent?
How about I give him a friend?”
I could not, for the life of me, look away from
the lovely image, on which another skater, closely resembling the man himself, positively
glowed on the ice. I was filled with so many perceptions at the same time – the
image seemed to create a sugar-like taste in my mouth, and the colors sang to
me.
Who was this man? What was his power? How could
he stop the beast inside me so easily, just by a flicker of the wrist?
As it turned out, I was not able to get his
name, nor his contact info, on this day. The fight was over, and I was called
for a recap with the authorities. As for the man, he ended up taking the child
in his arms and walking away.
Back in Russia, however, I did not lose any
time looking for him. He had an official suit, which meant he must have been
appointed to the fight by the UN authorities – and that meant he necessarily
had been recorded on the operation.
When I found him, I couldn’t help but chuckle.
He was listed under the “after care/support/defense” section, with a succinct
description of his power.
Psychological power.
Ability to make people experience synesthesia. People are forced to watch the
illusion until the subject decides to stop using his power. No particular
restraint.
The taste of his mind still lingered on my
tongue, the music of his power still resonated in my ears. He had utterly
bewitched me.
I had to find him back.
My name is Katsuki Yuuri. I am twenty-three
years old. I was born a superhero, but my power is not much – I can only make
people see some things long enough to calm them down and escort them to secure
places during fights. My favorite place to be is in the rink near my home – the
cold calms me. I love eating katsudon.
And a few months ago, one of the most powerful
superhero in this world came barreling into my tranquil, well-established life.
When Victor appeared in my parent’s onsen, with
his charming smile and luscious long silver hair, I thought that, one: maybe I
had drunk too much during dinner and was having a stroke; two: surely my power
finally got so out of control that I managed to fool even myself with my
wistful desires.
It turned out Victor had just been charmed by
my work as support in the Gigantic fight of Tokyo, in which he had almost
single-handedly saved the city from a sure destruction.
“Mesmerized, I was
mesmerized by your power, Yuuri, so beautiful!”
Since then, he had insisted on sharing my everyday
life, jumping on all the possible occasions to ask me to use my power on him.
In exchange, he promised to choreograph me something simple to skate to.
Truthfully, I was starting to run out of ideas
to entertain him. Victor especially liked when I poured music in the movements
of the characters I made him see – characters that were, most of the time, at
his demands, either me, or him, or his dog, or his protégé, or his best friend…
I started to create a tiny story in which we were all ice-skaters, which
delighted him.
The man was a lot to take in. I had followed
his exploits years after years, blown away each time by his splendor and his
strength. Compared to me, lumpy and weighty Katsuki Yuuri, he had been a
far-off mirage, glimmering and haunting my childhood – and adolescent – dreams.
And still, he seemed so…normal. He liked rolling
around on the floor with his gigantic dog. He would challenge my former
ballet-instructor Minako-sensei to drinking contests. He dragged me to all these
events, festivals, concerts, or just walks on the beach on an everyday basis.
He looked at me like I was brightening his day just by confusing his mind with
my illusions.
After a while, I had to admit I was helplessly
falling in love with the man. I found myself leaning on him, accepting his hugs
and caresses. We could talk for hours, or just sit in companionable silence,
him choreographing, me playing video games or catching on my best friend’s life
an ocean away.
My heart would hurt when he would decide to go
back to Russia.
Despite what it may seem like, though, I did
have a real job in Japan. My power gave me some opportunities which I gladly
took after completing university, having no general idea of what I wanted to do
of my life. I was currently employed in several hospitals of the region, in
which I would visit bedridden or dying patients. Using my power, I would make
them experience what they wanted to see or what could make them smile. As
several doctors explained to me, making the patients feel good, even for a few
minutes, could tremendously help their recovery – or their passing, I suppose.
At first, Victor didn’t really noticed my work.
He just assumed that, several days in the week, I left the onsen to do
god-knows-what out of town, while he visited the town and close touristic
attractions.
When he learnt about it, his eyes filled to the
brim with unshed tears, and he held me tight for a solid minute.
“You are so
beautiful, Yuuri. The most beautiful person I ever met.”
After that, he insisted on coming with me each
time, even if he was not always allowed to follow me in the patients’ rooms,
and even if I protested – what appeal could a dozen of visits a day in a hospital
have to him?
But he stayed by my side, faithfully, and weeks
started to turn into months as we steadily grew closer and fell even more in
love with each other.
Living with Yuuri was the best thing ever. I
could spend the time just playing with my Makkachin and my new favorite person
if I wanted to. I had fun learning Japanese and eating Yuuri’s parents’ otherworldly
dishes. Every person surrounding him seemed gentle, compassionate, and filled
with love for this unassuming boy.
But as I felt myself slip into the tender
embrace of love, I started to worry.
I started to worry because Yuuri was,
obviously, a gift of God to humanity. His kind face, his warm eyes, his
dedication, made him the most loveable creature ever. Oh, he did have his
faults, of course – such as an amusing pettiness and an infuriating tendency to
put his own self down – but it made me appreciate him even more. He was
remarkably human.
In other words, he was everything I started not
to be after the beginning of the Gigantic fights. Each night I would hold him
in my arms and remember the faces of the people I had killed. Each day I would watch
him enchanting suffering patients and be reminded of the looks of terror on
civilians’ faces when I faced them after a fight.
I was terrified. It was clear Yuuri loved me
back, he made no secret of it, but I couldn’t shake the fear that soon he would
realize I was far from being good enough for him and leave me for someone
worthy of his defining benevolence. It made me jealous – it made me clingy.
The cat finally got out his bag one day Yuuri
went out – without me – and I snapped. We were both shocked at my outburst, but
he was the first to get angry.
“I don’t need your permission to go out,
Victor!”
And I, of course, instead of behaving like a
sensible human being, instead of apologizing for my shitty behavior, just
crossed my arms and sneered:
“I don’t even go where you went. Or with who.”
“How does that matter to you? I still have a life
on my own, you know?!”
A life on his own. Potentially a life without
me. It hurt so much, in the moment.
“Alright, so if you “still have a life on your
own”, I guess I’m not much needed around here, right? I could just go back to
Russia, take back my vigilante work there and live MY life, while you could
find someone else, uh? That’s what you want, right!“
I had shouted, and he recoiled slightly from
me, his eyes wide. The silence between us grew thick, until his breath hitched.
Horrified, I watched his eyes cloud, full of ache. Oh no no no no…
“Why are you like this, Victor?” he whispered,
sitting on the bed. “Did I ever…you know I don’t want you to go!”
He sounded sad and angry at the same time. My
next words flew out of my mouth, unrestrained and wounded.
“You should, though. I am nothing good for you.”
He choked, curling on himself, his face down.
“Weren’t you happy, here, Victor? Didn’t you
see…why do you want to make that choice for me? I constantly feel like you want
me to… You come close to me, and the moment after I can feel that you’re
distant, but, Victor, that doesn’t
make sense…”
Then, after a moment of pained silence, he
shattered me.
“Is it because of me?”
I rushed to him, falling on my knees, my arms
around his waist. I started to sob in his soft and wide belly, hiding my eyes.
“I am nothing like you, Yuuri. You…you help
people. You bring magic and happiness in their lives. Me? Me, I just…I just
destroy. I destroy what threaten them, but still…there is this part of me, each
time I fight, which is violent and dark, and there is nothing, nothing like this in you, oh, Yuuri… You
are much too radiant for me.”
And Yuuri starts to laugh. Really hard. So hard
I begin to worry he would choke. As I try to disentangle myself from him, he
pushes me against his stomach again.
“Radiant, me?” he mumbles, digging his fingers
in my shoulders. “You don’t know what I am capable of. What do you all think?
That I can only make people look at butterflies and listen to lullabies while
they feel honey glide on their tongues? If I can do that, then obviously I can
make the exact opposite.”
He pauses for a moment, seemingly reflecting on
something.
“Do you want to experience that, Victor? Will
it convince you I’m no better than any other skilled person? Do you want to
know how it feels to be unable to look away from your worst nightmare, to
suffer as if you were thrown into flames, to be forced to listen to the strident
sounds of alarms, all of that at the same time?”
I can feel warm drops falling on the thinning
crown of my hair.
“What make people become villains, Victor? What
do you think? It’s all a matter of choice. When I was a child, some kids were
afraid of me. Very afraid. Just because they refused to give me a lollipop, or
because they pushed me a bit to forcefully while playing. The only reason I did
end up okay is because my own mother is skilled, even if she doesn’t know it.
However hard I tried to subdue her, she would keep smiling at me and loving me.
And so I believed adults were immune to me.”
Yuuri’s voice is very quiet. His hands are
toying with my long hair, vaguely braiding them. It feels nice.
“What is the real extent of your power, Yuuri?”
He sighs. His thighs close around me, keeping
me grounded.
“I can target several people at the same time.
I tried, once, just a tiny illusion – about a hundred people were affected. And…”
he hesitates, searching for words. “I can make people lose their minds. I am
quite sure of it. I never pushed it that far, but there is no real time-limit
to the illusions I can create. I could keep torturing people for hours before
needing to rest.”
He bends over me, laying his wet cheek on my
head. I embrace him tighter.
“Out of the two of us, who’s the real monster,
Victor?” he brokenly asks.
“I’ll tell you what. Let’s get better together.
Let’s make the choice, again and again, to be heroes.”
“Is that what you really want, Victor? It’s a
life-long commitment, you know…” he answers, a hint of tease in his tired voice.
I smile blindly in his shirt. Life-long sounds
so good, when it comes to Yuuri.
“I’m positive I’ll never get tired of that battle,
Yuuri…my love.”
Our names are Victor Nikiforov and Katsuki
Yuuri. We are respectively twenty-eight and twenty-four years old. We love to
travel between Russia and Japan, flaunting our engagement rings at our fellow vigilantes
and spending time with our loving families. We dedicate ourselves to a life of
choices and fights.
And we will be superheroes, for as long as we
stay together.
Plume de Lynx 