Chapter Text
“That said, this is your first job. I can't send you as the only giver. So Tamsy has agreed to go along and back you up.”
Tamsy casually leaned against the rocky wall bordering the narrow cliffside path, watching as Rudo practically harassed an elderly man for information. A polite smile rested on his lips, calm and pleasant as ever.
Internally, however, he was suffering.
Rudo's first "solo" mission as a Cleaner. Naturally, Tamsy had volunteered to accompany him. He needed to monitor Rudo's progress, evaluate his decision-making, and ensure everything continued moving in the right direction. Everything depended on that. His plans, his goals. Years of careful preparation was put into this.
His entire existence revolved around Rudo. So from now on, he would focus on that and that alone. No distractions. No unnecessary complications. No—
His gaze drifted several feet to the left.
Follo was watching with a cold glare as Rudo yelled at the man, utterly failing to receive any decent information from him. The young man's fiery orange gaze turned then, catching Tamsy's warm bronze. Follo's expression softened then, his shoulders relaxing just slightly.
Tamsy's eye twitched. No distractions. No unnecessary complications. No Follo. And yet, there he was.
It was completely normal, of course. Standard procedure. Cleaners were always accompanied by Supporters during field operations. There was absolutely nothing unusual about Follo being assigned to this mission.
Except that lately, Tamsy seemed physically incapable of existing in the same area as Follo without becoming aware of him. Constantly. Against his will.
This is becoming ridiculous.
A month ago, he wouldn't have spared Follo a second glance unless the situation required it. Now his brain treated every minor action as critical information.
Follo adjusted the straps of his bag?
Interesting.
Follo rolled up his sleeves?
Fascinating.
Follo pushed his hair out of his eyes?
Groundbreaking.
Tamsy wanted to throw himself off the cliff.
The worst part was that it wasn't even Follo's fault. The man wasn't doing anything. He was simply existing. And somehow that had become a problem.
Tamsy folded his arms inside his oversized sleeves. This was exactly why emotional attachments were dangerous. They disrupted focus, compromised objectivity, introduced unnecessary variables. Before Follo, Tamsy's thoughts had been clean and organized. Every action had a purpose. Every relationship had a clearly defined role.
Now?
Now he found himself wondering if Follo had eaten breakfast. Now he found himself noticing when Follo looked tired. Now he knew Follo preferred tea over coffee and hated mushrooms. All completely useless, entirely irrelevant information. And yet it occupied valuable space in his brain regardless.
Tamsy’s attention shifted as Follo abruptly walked past Rudo, ignoring him entirely, before crouching beside the old man. Rudo had approached the situation like the rookie Cleaner he was: direct, forceful, impatient. Efficient for intimidation, but terrible for gathering information from frightened civilians.
Follo, meanwhile, adjusted immediately.
His posture lowered. His voice softened. He spoke calmly, politely, with an ease that made the old man visibly relax within seconds. Tamsy blinked once, mildly surprised at how effortlessly Follo had seized control of the interaction.
He was adaptive. That was one of Follo’s stronger traits. He observed emotional responses quickly and adjusted his behavior accordingly. It was an extremely useful skill for Support work, though Follo himself probably didn’t realize how instinctively he did it.
With Follo’s help, they acquired all the information they needed regarding the offending trash beasts in less than five minutes.
Tamsy filed the observation away automatically. The group continued deeper into the polluted zone, masks sliding into place as the air thickened with toxins. Tamsy remained near the rear of the formation, eyes sweeping over the others methodically.
He was the most experienced Cleaner present. Monitoring the team’s safety fell under his responsibilities.
Except…
Tamsy already knew he would not be doing that today. The only person here who truly mattered was Rudo. The others were expendable. Supporters. Extra variables. Temporary pieces moving around a larger objective. If one of them happened to die during the mission, then so be it. Death tended to accelerate growth remarkably well.
Especially for Rudo.
Loss. Failure. Helplessness. Those emotions had the potential to push him closer toward remembering his role. Toward becoming what Tamsy needed him to become.
Tamsy paused mid-step. Then, slowly, a smile spread beneath his mask.
Oh.
What a wonderfully efficient solution.
His eyes flicked toward Follo automatically. Two birds with one stone. Eliminate the distraction while furthering Rudo’s development.
It's genius.
Tamsy continued forward, Tokushin hidden beneath the oversized sleeve of his uniform. The simplicity of the idea appealed to him immensely. Minimal effort, maximum outcome. Perfect.
The trash beasts appeared moments later. They were small. Extremely small for a trash beast. Tiny, condensed spheres of dust and debris bounced rapidly across the terrain in massive swarms, too quick and erratic for conventional attacks to land consistently.
How annoying.
Fortunately, Tokushin was exceptionally effective against wide-range targets. However, before Tamsy could intervene—
Rudo swung a net through the air, scooping up several beasts at once.
Tamsy stared. A beat of silence passed inside his head.
Wait a minute.
Another swing. More captured beasts.
He stole my thing!
Tamsy narrowed his eyes slightly behind the mask.
The hell?!
Despite the blatant plagiarism against Tokushin occurring in front of him, Tamsy remained where he was and allowed Rudo to continue taking point. The kid adapted quickly once he identified an effective strategy. Efficient pattern recognition. Good. Promising, even.
Tamsy should have been focusing entirely on that. Instead, his attention drifted sideways again.
Follo and Gris fought side by side several yards away. Their attacks passed straight through multiple beasts harmlessly before the two adjusted positions and began communicating rapidly. Coordinating. Testing patterns.
Tamsy watched Follo duck beneath one creature before immediately warning Gris about another approaching from behind.
Efficient teamwork. Follo was annoyingly competent.
No.
Tamsy forcibly redirected his attention toward Rudo again.
Stop looking at him. He means nothing to you.
Follo was not relevant to the mission. He was not important right now. He was, theoretically, moments away from being removed from the equation entirely.
So why did Tamsy keep checking where he was? Why was part of his brain constantly monitoring Follo’s position without permission? It was deeply irritating.
Tamsy tightened his grip slightly beneath his sleeve. This was exactly the problem. One night. One single night of sex, and suddenly Follo Tunito occupied an unreasonable percentage of his thoughts. Tamsy had spent years maintaining precise emotional control over himself. Years refining discipline to the point where distractions became nearly nonexistent.
And now?
Now his attention snapped toward Follo every time he laughed. Every time he spoke. Every time he moved into Tamsy’s field of vision.
Completely unacceptable behavior. This has to stop.
The fight dragged on longer than anticipated.
The small orb-like beasts continued reforming no matter how many were captured or destroyed, forcing the group into an increasingly irritating cycle of repetition. Rudo adapted well enough, but frustration was beginning to seep into his movements—slightly sharper swings, harsher breathing, less patience.
Tamsy noted the behavioral shift immediately.
Then the true body finally appeared.
A humanoid figure emerged from one of the straw houses nearby, weapon raised. Rudo reacted instantly, rushing forward and dispatching it with impressive efficiency. with a blow-dryer of all things.
Good reflexes. Improving combat instincts. Still too reckless, though.
The creature collapsed. Silence followed. Rudo relaxed almost immediately. Tamsy did not.
That was far too easy.
He watched the remains carefully, expression hidden behind his mask. Sure enough, moments later, the creature twitched. Dust particles gathered again. The body reformed with an ugly screech, weapon raised once more.
Predictable.
Rudo cursed loudly and charged back into battle, visibly annoyed now. Tamsy observed quietly for a moment before, against his better judgment, his attention drifted sideways again, toward where Follo had been standing. Except this time, he was gone.
Tamsy blinked. A strange sensation struck his chest immediately afterward. Sharp. Sudden.
Panic.
Tiny, but unmistakable. A severe deviation. Tamsy extinguished the feeling almost instantly. Follo’s absence did not matter. Supporters repositioned constantly during combat scenarios. There was no reason for concern. No reason whatsoever for his pulse to have spiked the way it just had.
Then movement caught his eye.
A nearby straw house burst open violently.
Follo stumbled out, collapsing as he hit the ground hard enough to send dust scattering across the terrain. His mask and hat had both been knocked loose. Blood streamed heavily down the side of his face from a large, jagged gash near his hairline.
Tamsy’s grip on Tokushin tightened so abruptly the handle creaked.
“Guys!!” Follo shouted, voice strained but loud enough to cut through the chaos. He shoved himself back upright despite visibly swaying. “I found the trash beast’s main body! It’s the house!”
Tamsy stared. He narrowed his eyes sharply.
Idiot.
Follo had separated from the group entirely to investigate on his own. No backup. No communication. No regard for personal safety whatsoever. And now he was injured.
A deeper, uglier emotion stirred unpleasantly beneath Tamsy’s ribs.
Anger.
Not because Follo had endangered the mission. Not because the plan had been disrupted. But because Follo was bleeding. The realization irritated him immensely. Tamsy exhaled slowly through his mask, forcing his thoughts back into order.
This changed nothing. In fact, the situation had improved considerably. An injured Supporter operating independently created a perfect opportunity. Reduced awareness. Reduced reaction time. Elevated chaos levels. If timed properly, Follo’s death could still be written off as collateral damage during combat.
“Got it. Thanks for the help,” Tamsy spoke calmly, passing Follo. He kept his expression neutral as always. “Now we won't spend the rest of our lives playing in the dust.”
Tamsy tightened his grip on Tokushin, prepared to intervene if Rudo required assistance.
The situation remained manageable despite the complications. The beast had revealed its true body, the Supporters were repositioning correctly, and Rudo—while irritated—was still functioning effectively enough in combat. Everything remained within acceptable parameters.
Then an entirely unforeseen variable emerged.
Follo and Rudo started arguing.
Tamsy blinked once, mildly stunned by the abrupt escalation.
Interesting.
The two had clearly been carrying tension for a while now. Tamsy had noticed traces of it before, but he hadn’t considered it significant enough to erupt mid-operation.
Apparently, he had underestimated the situation. The argument intensified rapidly. Rudo snapped something back. Follo stepped forward aggressively. The two shouted over one another while the rest of the team watched in varying levels of alarm.
Tamsy observed from a distance with analytical curiosity. The subject itself seemed emotionally charged, though Tamsy found he didn’t particularly care about the details. Something involving responsibility, looking down on others, not being good enough—typical emotional conflict.
What interested him more was Follo’s response pattern. Normally, Follo preferred de-escalation. He adjusted himself to match emotional environments rather than intensify them. That was part of what made him effective with civilians and team coordination.
But right now? Follo looked furious. Genuinely furious.
Blood still streaked down the side of his face, his mask left broken on the ground as he argued with Rudo loud enough for the entire polluted zone to hear. His hands moved sharply when he spoke, frustration bleeding through every movement.
Then Follo punched Rudo directly in the face.
Tamsy’s eyes widened. A highly unexpected action.
Rudo staggered backward in complete shock. Gris immediately grabbed Follo and held him back from hitting Rudo again.
Meanwhile, something deeply unfortunate happened inside Tamsy’s chest.
His heartbeat skipped.
…Oh no.
Why was that attractive?
Tamsy stared in horrified silence as Follo stood there breathing hard, struggling against Gris's ironclad grip. This was becoming an increasingly severe problem. Violence should not have been enhancing Follo’s appeal. Especially not while covered in blood and screaming in the middle of a mission.
And yet—
Tamsy exhaled slowly behind the mask, deeply dissatisfied with himself. This emotional situation had clearly progressed beyond manageable levels.
The battlefield suddenly erupted again before he could spiral further into self-analysis. The house groaned violently. Wood splintered apart as the structure twisted and expanded into a grotesque mass of moving debris. Large wooden pillars launched outward indiscriminately toward the group.
Ah.
That was right. There was still a beast requiring extermination.
Tamsy shifted back into combat mode immediately. Thoughts cleared. Priorities reordered. The argument between Follo and Rudo ceased at once as both of them instinctively redirected toward the threat.
Tamsy’s eyes tracked Follo automatically as he moved through the battlefield.
Annoying. Extremely annoying. He was supposed to be looking for opportunities to eliminate the distraction standing twenty feet away. Instead, his brain continued supplying deeply unhelpful observations.
Follo fought more aggressively when angry. Blood running down his face was, somehow, aesthetically pleasing. His voice got deeper when he yelled.
I want to see him bleed underneath me.
An alarming sequence of thoughts. Tamsy decided he would be suppressing those immediately.
Then the situation shifted catastrophically.
Follo stepped directly in front of the house-shaped beast, hammer clenched tightly in both hands. Tamsy’s attention snapped toward him immediately.
What was he doing?
Tamsy’s eyes widened. Follo wasn’t a Giver. He knew that. He understood perfectly well that Supporters were not equipped to engage high-threat beasts directly without backup. They needed vital instruments to defeat the beasts.
And yet there he stood anyway. Drawing aggro intentionally. Protecting the others.
Idiot.
The beast reacted instantly. A massive, sharpened beam of rotten wood shot outward with brutal speed. There was no hesitation. No warning. It slammed directly into Follo’s midsection. The sound alone made something ugly twist inside Tamsy’s chest. Follo’s body jerked violently from the impact before he was launched backward—
Straight off the cliffside.
Silence.
For one suspended second, the battlefield seemed to stop moving entirely. Tamsy stared blankly at the empty air where Follo had been standing moments earlier.
…Oh. Well. There goes that issue.
The thought surfaced automatically. A rational reaction. And immediately afterward came the emotional response.
Relief arrived first. The distraction was gone. The variable had removed itself without requiring intervention from Tamsy directly. No evidence. No suspicion. No compromise to the larger plan.
Perfect. This was what he wanted. So why did his body suddenly feel cold?
His thoughts had become strangely disorganized. That was unusual. He attempted to recalibrate. Follo had fallen from a significant height directly into the polluted ravine below. Survival probability was low. Even if the impact itself failed to kill him, the environment likely would. Logically, the situation had resolved itself optimally.
So why—
Tamsy’s grip tightened painfully around Tokushin. Something sharp and unpleasant twisted beneath Tamsy’s ribs.
No. No, this was fine. This was necessary. He had spent weeks trying to remove this exact problem from his life. Weeks acknowledging the danger Follo posed to his focus, his judgment, his plans. This was objectively the best possible outcome.
Then why did he suddenly feel like he couldn’t breathe properly?
Tamsy inhaled slowly behind the mask.
He watched silently as Rudo launched himself off the cliff immediately after Follo without a second thought.
Hm.
Emotional impulsivity overriding self-preservation instincts as usual. Strong attachment response. Potentially useful.
Gris moved next.
Unfortunately for him, Tamsy still needed at least one functioning Supporter alive for the remainder of the mission. Tokushin’s threads snapped outward instantly, wrapping tightly around Gris’s torso before he could throw himself over the edge as well.
He attempted to refocus himself on the positive outcomes then. Objectively speaking, the situation remained advantageous. Follo’s sudden death would have a significant emotional impact on Rudo. Grief, rage, helplessness—strong catalysts for soul corruption. Strong catalysts for growth. The psychological pressure alone could push Rudo closer toward the state Tamsy needed him to reach.
Additionally, the distraction itself had been removed. No more wandering attention. No more emotional interference. No more stupidly warm smiles causing structural damage to Tamsy’s mental stability. An optimal outcome.
So why did Tamsy still feel sick?
The beast screeched again, dragging him back toward the immediate battlefield. Right. The mission was still ongoing. Emotional instability could be addressed later.
Tamsy stepped forward, Tokushin shifting beside him as he prepared to finish the fight personally.
Then the battlefield exploded.
Literally.
A massive shockwave erupted from below the cliffside, violent enough to shake the ground beneath everyone’s feet. The straw house detonated outward into splintered debris and dust, forcing Tamsy backward several steps despite his footing.
A thick cloud swallowed the entire battlefield almost instantly, obscuring visibility completely. Tamsy narrowed his eyes, scanning carefully through the haze. A silhouette emerged. Then another.
Tamsy blinked.
…Huh?
The dust slowly settled. And there stood Follo Tunito.
Alive.
How the hell—?!
He looked terrible. An injury to his head had blood streaming down his face. And the injury to his abdomen was much worse. Blood completely soaked his clothes. Soot and dust clung to his skin. His breathing appeared uneven, posture unstable. By all logical accounts, he should have been dead several minutes ago.
And yet there he was. Standing.
Tamsy’s eyes drifted downward, toward the weapon in Follo’s hands. A massive hammer rested against the ground, absurdly oversized and radiating unmistakable energy. The metal surface gleamed beneath the polluted light, heavy enough that a normal human shouldn’t have even been able to lift it.
Silence filled Tamsy’s thoughts for a full second.
A vital instrument.
Follo’s vital instrument.
Tamsy’s traitorous heart performed another deeply irritating little flip inside his chest.
No. No, absolutely not. This is objectively terrible news. How is he not dead?
Follo had survived both the direct hit and the fall. Worse still, the near-death experience had apparently awakened his abilities entirely.
Unfortunately, that meant Follo was now significantly harder to kill.
Disastrous. Absolutely disastrous.
And yet, against all reason, relief surged through him so intensely it nearly made his knees weak.
Follo was alive. Tamsy hated how strongly that mattered to him.
Meanwhile, Follo lifted his head weakly. Their eyes met through the settling dust cloud. And despite looking like he had just clawed his way out of the grave itself—
Follo smiled at him.
Tamsy stared back in complete disbelief.
This was going to be significantly more difficult than originally anticipated.