[Form [Destiny Bond]?]

“Zero? What’s this?” John said.

“...what?” Zero said, a puzzled look on his face. “I…”

He shook his head. “Just read.”

The screen extended, presenting itself to both John and Prota.

[You have found someone you wholly trust. They have discovered part of the truth about you. Would you like to form a [Destiny Bond]?]

“...what is a Destiny Bond?”

[You have attempted to use [Plot Armor] with another subject.]

[The secondary subject does not possess the ability [Plot Armor] due to not having the [Writer]’s capabilities.]

[The secondary subject will not remember anything, and will be reset back to its original state]

[However, since the secondary subject absorbed some of your abilities, it is possible to change this.]

“...” John was sweating. Prota looked up at him.

[Form contract: [Destiny Bond]]

[Target will inherit some of the user’s abilities, including that of [Plot Armor]. In return, the user and target will be permanently bound in a bond of life and death. When one dies, the other will as well. You will be able to know where your target is at all times when in the same universe.]

[In return, you will have to reveal everything about yourself to said target.]

[Do you agree?]

John looked at Prota. He wanted to say yes. He really did.

John was someone who had died countless times. He was someone that was unconcerned with death, because he had the ability of [Plot Armor], an ability that allowed someone to essentially use a “save point” and resurrect at a point in time after dying.

However, with this came the burden of having to do everything all over again. Memories he’d formed with others, friendships he’d developed, they’d all disappear as if they never existed. No one would know if he suffered, or made a breakthrough, or had an intimate moment with someone.

There was no point in making one, because it would all just disappear.

And yet here was an opportunity for someone to join him, to be his friend through it all. Why didn’t he accept?

Because it was a curse. He could no longer care for people. He couldn’t see humans as “living beings” anymore, because anything he did of consequence could just be reset, erased as if it’d never happened. He hated developing relationships with people because it would all be for nothing.

He couldn’t subject Prota to that.

“...Q- John,” she said, grabbing his hand. He looked down.

“What does this mean?”

John hesitated, then crouched down and looked Prota in the eye. He had to give her the truth. If she didn’t want to accept it, she would forget it, but it wasn’t fair to force her into something she didn’t understand.

“...Prota. We’re dead right now. Ok? We’re… not really alive.”

Prota’s eyes went wide.

“However, I have an ability that will bring us back to life. We’ll go back in time, and everything will be as if none of this had happened. See this button? Once I press it, we’ll wake up in the morning as if nothing had ever happened.”

“...?”

“However… you won’t remember anything.”

Silence. Prota didn’t know what to say. John was worried she didn’t understand.

“It’ll be like everything that happened today just… didn’t happen. However, this… it looks like it’s giving you an opportunity to remember. Remember everything that happened today. Do you want that?”

Prota hesitated. Why wouldn’t she want that?

“Prota. It’s not a good thing. Every time we die, you’ll remember the death, and you’ll wake up back in time as if nothing had ever happened. Friends you made, achievements you accomplished… they’ll disappear like they never happened. It’s not fun, Prota. Are you sure?”

He really, really wanted her to understand before making a choice. However, to Prota, what the consequences were didn’t matter.

She was being given another chance to stay with John. She couldn’t get the image of his face, so weary and tired, out of her mind, the feeling of his fingers going cold as he held her hand and died. How many times would she go through that if she didn’t accept?

Loneliness? Relationships? Friends?

Those didn’t exist for her right now. The only relationship she had was the one she’d formed with John, and if she didn’t take this, then was their relationship even real?

She trusted him, just like he trusted her.

“...” Prota looked up at John and nodded firmly. “I want to do it.”

“Do you-”

“Do it,” she said again, her face shining with determination.

“...” John sighed and held his head. He could feel his heart beating as he slowly reached for the “yes” button.

“Here we go.”

[[Destiny Bond]: Initiated.]

[Good luck, John.]

With that, it was set. Two oddballs intertwined by fate, more so than either realised.

John, someone who looked ok on the outside, but was cold and emotionless on the inside, someone who rejected all relationships because he couldn’t bear the pain of losing them.

Prota, someone who looked dead on the outside, but desperately wanted to be loved on the inside, someone who’d closed themselves to the outside world because she couldn’t bear the pain of being rejected.

One who wanted to love, but couldn’t have someone to stay by them.

The other who wanted to be loved, but was destined to be rejected by all.

Now bound by destiny.

John reached out to the reset button, pulling Prota in tight as she wrapped her arms tightly around him.

[Reset]

~~~

Prota sat up with a gasp. Sun streamed through the window, golden beams piercing the air as she looked around, her hair tangled like a bird’s nest. John sat up on the sofa he’d been sleeping in, but more calm.

“...” Prota looked down at her hands, which were perfectly fine.

A lot of thoughts were running through her head, but none of them came out. John calmly walked over to the sink as if nothing had happened.

“Hey, aren’t you up early?” John said cheerfully, starting the kettle, but he seemed uneasy. Prota slowly walked over to him, a thousand thoughts running through her head.

“...” she looked up into his eyes. “John?”

John practically collapsed, falling to the floor and laughing.

“Oh, thank god,” John sighed with a deep breath as all the tension worked its way out of his body. “It worked. It worked. Oh, my god, it worked.”

Prota clung to him as she buried her face in his shirt, wrapping her arms tight around him. All her doubts were cast aside. There were still doubts, still things she didn’t understand, but that was ok.

Everything was ok.

~~~

Prota fell asleep again, exhausted by the roller coaster of emotions she’d been through. Upon waking up for the second time in the day, the sun was high up in the sky and the clock ticking on the wall announced that it was noon. There was a little notification in her system.

[New Abilities available.]

[Character Profile]

[Plot Armor]

[As someone who is in a [Destiny Bond] with John, it is only fair you know about him.]

[Please ask any one question. John will be compelled to answer it fully and honestly.]

“...” Prota looked at the message. Any singular question…

“Oh hey, you’ve unlocked some new abilities,” Zero said, floating over. “Why don’t you try them out?”

“...new… abilities?”

“Well, it’s easier to understand them if you use them. Just focus on John and say “Character Profile.”

She followed his instructions, resulting in a new screen appearing in her vision.

[Anomaly: [Redacted], John Quarta

Age: ???

Sex: Male

(…expand)

Abilities: [Infinity], [Zero], [Character Profile], [Plot Armor], [Deus Ex Machina], [Storytelling], [Reader’s Revelations], [Fourth Wall]

Traits: [Anomaly], [Character]: 90%, [Reader]: 9%, [Writer]: 1%, [Dimension Hopper]]

“...” Prota looked mildly overwhelmed with the number of unfamiliar terms in front of her. Zero appeared behind her and looked over her shoulder.

“Oh, interesting. I’ve actually never seen your character profile until now. Huh… it says “anomaly” instead of “character…” Interesting, interesting.”

Prota had even more questions because of what Zero had said, but things needed to be taken one step at a time.

“What is… [Reader]? And [Writer]? And [Character]?”

[You have used your one question.]

“...” John stared at the new message in front of him.

[You will be forced to reveal everything regarding Prota’s question.]

“Who are you?”

“Well,” he sighed. “Here comes the hardest part of today. …hah,” he laughed, sighing as he fell onto the sofa. “I really don’t want to do this. Who would’ve thought I would’ve ever had to explain this to someone?”

He could feel his heart beating faster, his chest tightening as he prepared for what was to come next. Prota plopped down on the sofa, bouncing up and down a bit but staring intensely at John.

“Prota. What I’m about to tell you is completely true, ok? This isn’t a joke, this isn’t fake, and it’s going to be somewhat hard to accept.”

The seriousness in his voice made Prota mildly afraid, but she listened carefully.

“Prota. Do you know what a story is?”

She nodded. Who didn’t?

“A story. It’s something someone tells, whether through a book or a song, a drawing or a video… Every story contains a world.”

He looked Prota dead in the eyes.

“Prota. This world… it’s a story.”

Silence. Prota cocked her head to the side, confused.

“...a story?”

John closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He didn’t want to say anymore, but he was forced to.

“Yeah. Me. You. Zero, somewhat. Everything around us, everything that’s happened, it’s all just a story, just like the ones you’ve read. None of this is really ‘real’. We are “characters” in a “story.””

“...”

“Do you know what a story is composed of, Prota?” John seemed to be talking more to himself at this point. Prota shook her head. Wasn’t a story just composed of words? Wasn’t a story something written on paper?

“A story is made up of three components. First, there needs to be a writer, someone who creates a world in their head and puts it together with words and images. One might call them the “god” of the world, except that most people assume the worlds stories take place in don’t exist, and so it’s pretty hard to be the god of nothing.”

She was confused, but he went on.

“The second part of a story is the characters. It’s pretty hard to build a world with nothing but inanimate objects. There have to be characters, people or creatures that develop, have thoughts and feelings, who progress through the story and grow. However, the characters of a story are almost never aware they’re in a story. They believe everything around them is ‘real’.”

At this point, it was more as if he was talking to himself.

“The third part of a story is the reader. Most people would say that a reader is not necessary for a story. However, through the reader, the world expands and grows. It takes root in the minds of others and grows. The reader thinks about the story, sees the characters grow and struggle, and so knows everything about the story but cannot actually do anything to it.”

“Three components. The [Writer], who creates the world. The [Character], who interacts with the world but doesn’t know it’s a story. And the [Reader], who knows everything about the world but can’t do anything about it.”

Prota waited for him to go on, but he seemed to be lost in thought. Finally, he shook his head and locked eyes with her.

“I’m all three, Prota. [Reader], [Writer] and [Character]. There’s a place called Earth. It’s where I come from, apparently, although I don’t remember too much about it. I was just an ordinary person, although I presume I wrote stories in some way, otherwise I wouldn’t be a [Writer]. Through… a certain process, I became a [Character] and lost most of my memories. These memories are scattered through a… we’ll just leave it at a large area of space, and each bit of my memories contains a large amount of power. This is because they’re memories of a [Writer], someone who has the power to manipulate the world at will. So… I’m not just a normal person, Prota. I’m someone very different.”

He finished, looking very, very tired. His face was blank, like a void, devoid of any emotions or feelings. It was his true face, what he really felt when he wasn’t acting behind a mask.

Prota didn’t know what to make of all this. She’d just heard that the world around her wasn’t real, was just a story written by some writer, probably some idiot who had too much time on his hands, that she was just a character written by the said author. She’d just learned that Quarta- no, John, was someone from this place called “Earth,” where all the people that wrote these “stories” came from, and had somehow lost all his memories, each of which was extremely powerful… it was almost too much for her mind to wrap around.

Memories of him fighting came back to mind. Just who was he, really? For six months everything had been relatively normal. While she hadn’t shown it, she’d started to feel again. Warmth, love, joy… then it had all fallen away in less than a day. Watching Quarta- no, John, she had to remember that- watching him tear at the two priests heartlessly had caused her to rethink things only to be heartbroken as she watched him sacrifice his life for her, and then only for her to find him alive and well again. Then they’d both come back to life as if nothing had happened, only for John to drop this bombshell of a story on her.

She looked over at John, who was just staring into the fireplace, eyes empty, like a void. It wasn’t really that he was old, angry, sad, or even tired. There was just… nothingness. And yet… she’d remembered the look in his eyes as he was dying, the joy when she’d smiled for him… he was a mystery, someone who was constantly switching masks, revealing a fraction of the way he wanted to feel but ultimately was someone who simply couldn’t feel at all.

She didn’t know that’s who he was, but her childlike instincts told her he was someone who needed help. He was someone who needed someone by his side.

She had a decision to make. She could stay with him, or leave him.

She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him. John slowly lifted his head up. There was a small light in the darkness of his eyes.

“...Really? Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I’ll stay with you,” she said, her face neutral and yet somehow caring at the same time. “Forever.” It was a statement that was no more than five words long, and yet carried more meaning than any drawn out speech.

John started tearing up. It was strange, seeing tears on his face. Nothing really extraordinary had happened. Nothing moving or emotional had occurred. And yet while Prota had never seen John shed tears, here he was, crying while hugging someone who was now his younger sister in everything but blood.

“...Thank you, Prota,” he said, wiping his eyes. They stared at each other deeply, a sort of understanding passing between the two.

John, in his long life of death and resets, had mostly lost the capability to care for others. Prota, in her one year of solitude, had forgotten the feeling of being cared for and probably would never have felt it again had it not been for John.

John needed to care for someone. Prota needed to be cared for. Both were trapped within their own shells of solitude, but even if they were still trapped they would be trapped together.

“Ok.” John wiped his eyes one more time, laughed, and smiled. “Ok. Let’s do it, Prota.”