His bed was rather...flat and basic without a pillow or soft ‘mattress’ analogue, but it served its purpose well.

That purpose at present being to let him think on how much he hated life at the moment, how much he hated the universe, how much he hated Forossa, and so much more.

Oh, and how much he hated this damn bed because it was so uncomfortable.

But first let’s count the reasons why he was so frustrated.

First, he ended up in another reality with some tanuki and a Grey Jedi bounty hunter, who really didn’t like him.

Second, he was an Undead in a world full of technicolor ponies before ending up in his current situation, all because he was unfortunate enough to be at the wrong convention at the wrong time.

Third, he was so far from his old life and had no idea if he’d ever be able to go back, which just made his low-key anxiety start to flare up.

FOURTH, he was now linked by the damned Force to a ‘royal tanuki’ who’d suffer and/or die whenever he did, which just made him feel like shit and terrified to do anything, wherever he went and whatever he did.

And finally, he just wanted to go home and pretend none of this ever happened, but the universe just loooved to FUCK WITH HIM.

In short, he was an angry Undead who knew that Emica would be feeling bits of what he felt and that just made him even more livid at life.

The door to the cargo bay opened, and he looked there to see Emica in a pair of loose pajamas, hands behind her back and a sad smile on her face. “...Can I come in?”

“Not like I can stop you,” Richter huffed, gesturing to a nearby crate of roughly chair height.

She frowned, but walked over and sat down on it nonetheless. There was silence for a moment or two, before she finally spoke up. “I kinda know what you’re going through, you know.”

“Uhhh, yeah, only kinda. So it doesn’t really help the peptalk you want to give that much,” he scoffed, glaring up at the ceiling as if it were the source of his problems.

Emica flinched at that, then turned her gaze downward. “...I didn’t mean to drag you into this… I just...want to help...”

“Can you send me back home and sever this link without killing us, making us enemies or leaving each other on a sour note?”

Emica’s ears drooped at this. “N-No, but…” She looked to him. “I...I know your situation is still a lot like mine. My home...me and Master aren’t even sure it’s in this universe…” She looked away. “And even if it is, there’s no guarantee I can go back. From what I know, Force Storms surround it at all times. It could be in a pocket dimension for all I know.” She clenched her fists. “I used to hate everything for it, too. My father, for keeping the throne for too long and causing Force Storms to ravage my home...to bring me to that...hellhole. I hated this galaxy, for all the thieves and murderers and…” She clutched her chest and shivered. “...perverts that just wanted to take advantage of me, one way or another. I hated fate for giving me a lot in life where I’m stuck with a woman who has a five hundred million credit bounty on her head, I hated the Force…” A few tears ran down her cheeks.

“You at least have someone. When I go back to my little ‘isekai’ bullshit, or wherever I end up after this, I’ll be all alone. So yaaay,” Richter pointed out, still glaring a hole in the ceiling.

Emica bared her teeth as she shot up, tears whipping from her eyes as she glared at him. “Just shut up and let me finish you asshole!” She shouted. To his surprise, he felt the utter pain in her voice, in her mind. Felt the pain of...rejection? No, discernment. But it also felt deeper than that. He felt the pain she’d had at being denied help, or even ogled and lusted after. He felt the pain of losing a home and family and friends all over again, from her perspective. He felt the pain she was feeling now, towards him, at being brushed off.

He was hugging her before he knew what was happening.

“...Sorry. I’m just...I’m not…good at emotions. I’ve always been bad at telling people how I feel, bad at dealing with them, bad at understanding them...and with this damned Bond going on, I’m subjecting you to them without you deserving it. I hate it. I wish I could go back and stop myself from Bonding us and spare you the agony you’ll probably be feeling every time I die, assuming I’m capable of that,” Richter let it all spil out, his hug tightening as he feels her tears drop on him while she looks up at him.

“J-Just…J-Just don’t push me out…” She furiously wiped at her tears. “Y-You don’t need to be good at emotions to...t-t-to talk about them, you d-d-dummy,” She weakly pounded a fist into his chest as she cried, “And it doesn’t give you the right to b-b-brush off someone who just wants to help!”

“I also suck at talking about emotions because I just end up frustrated when I can’t put exactly how I’m feeling into words. I’m sorry for brushing you off, but I just don’t think it’d be a good idea to open up when I barely understand my own feelings beyond the basic gist,” his hug only grows tighter and he starts softly rubbing up and down her back, trying to calm her down.

She growled, glaring up at him. “Then get frustrated! Just don’t push someone who’s trying to help away!”

“...I...fine,” the Undead sighs, still hugging her and rubbing her back because...well, he didn’t know what else the hell to do.

After that, she simply sobbed and held onto him. As she did, and as she soothed, he finally understood why that pain of hers felt so deep. He could feel what felt like a freshly reopened wound of hers in his mind, one of loss. One of what he knew was now definitely desertion. He felt the pangs of longing for a mother’s love, the pain of being dropped like some plate of uninteresting food by some haughty noble, the grief of being considered worthless, and he understood.

His helmeted forehead pressed gently against hers, a simple but meaningful gesture of solidarity and comfort.

It took what felt like hours for her to calm down, but when she did, she still hadn’t let go of him. Slowly, she looked up at him, sniffling a bit still. “S-So?” She started.

“...Maybe when we get to know each other better, I’ll be comfortable discussing this. Until then, uh...just know that, erm…I-I-I dunno, really, what to say,” Richter replied, sounding rather awkward and flustered.

Emica frowned at him, then sighed, wiped the last of her tears, and buried her head in his chest. “Just...take a breath and take your time. I’m not exactly an impatient Tanuki. I don’t mind waiting.” She gained a smile, and though he couldn’t see it, he felt it. “The fact you take your time just means you chose the words after careful consideration. That’s a special trait.”

“You’re adorable and I would pat your head,” Richter immediately invalidated her statement, his mind a bit fried from all the talk of emotions and the emotions shared through the Force Bond.

Emica blinked at this, blushing like a rose of passion in full bloom. “I, um,” She looked away, still blushing. “Th-Thank you…” She tentatively looked back to him. “C...Can we...uhm, c-c-cuddle?”

The Undead blinked, but nodded slowly - if she wanted to cuddle, then...well, he owed her that much, at least.

The first thing he noticed when she settled into him on the cot was that she was beyond soft. She was like a body pillow with more fluff than he’d ever felt, and he could feel it even through his armor. The second thing he noticed, and rather quickly after the first, was she was very warm. Not to an outrageous degree, but pleasant. It made him feel...comfortable, to a degree.

“...Soft,” he said rather simply, his arms wrapped around her belly and buried in her plush tummy fluff. “Very soft.”

She giggled, the sound like a music box’s melodic notes. “And you’re cold.” She smiled and snuggled deeper. “I like that.”

“Considering I’m a corpse, that’s to be expected,” Richter replied.

They sat in silence for a time, simply getting used to each other in comfortable silence, before Emica spoke up again. “Hey...are you really comfortable sleeping in just armor? I could get you some actual clothes, if you want…”

“Nah, I feel safer in the armor,” he declined politely, unconsciously beginning to rub her belly.

To his surprise, she seemed to not purr, nor even yip like he was hoping, but she instead whined lowly and pressed into his rubs, a smile on her face.

His belly rubbing begins to intensify, adding his fingers with small scritches to the flesh beneath her fur while the other hand gently squeezes whatever chub she might have on her stomach.

To his surprise once again, she had a fair amount of it. Not anywhere near enough to worry about, but certainly enough to rub and give some attention.

“Nnnooooo~” she whined, wagging tail betraying her words. “That’s my leftover hibernation faaaaat~”

“I call it plushness or slight chubbiness, perfect for belly rubs,” he countered, now firmly scritching and rubbing her belly.

“Nnnoooooooo~! Stoooooop~!” she whined, the noise now a bit higher pitched. He even felt her leg twitching.

“Never.”

The belly rubbing doubled, if not tripled, in strength and speed.

“Riiichteeeeer~!” Emica whined, face aflush as she gave him an utterly adorable and flustered look.

Then he migrated one of his hands up to her ears and started rubbing along the ‘spine’ of each.

To his delight, she was panting now. “R-Richter, pl-please, stoooop~!”

“...You tanuki are more like raccoon dogs than I ever realized,” her cuddle buddy remarked a moment after he stopped rubbing her ears...to pull his helmet off and begin nibbling the tips of her ears.

“Ah!” She cried, shuddering at this. She placed a hand on his chest. “R-Richter...pl-please, stop, I-I mean it...you’re...making me...too...excited…!”

He immediately stopped and would have flung himself off the bed were it not for his fear of how she’d take it.

“Duly noted,” Richter almost squeaked, promptly returning his helm atop his head and just...laying there on the bed.

Emica panted for a bit longer, catching her breath as she lay on him. “I...really appreciate the affection...but us...Tanuki...eventually get...excited...when pet for too long...it’s a thing...close couples...do…”

“Okay,” Richter acknowledged, feeling rather awkward now.

She let out a breath. “Just...hold me for now. It’s all I need.” She said, nudging her head under his arm.

So he did, and held her as close as they were physically comfortable with.

She smiled at this, tail wapping happily yet steadily against the bed as she closed her eyes.

While she slowly fell asleep, her Undead snuggle buddy could not.

He tried, certainly. He closed his eyes, breathing evenly. He counted sheep. He did everything he could.

But his body just wouldn’t do it.

So instead, he just held Emica close, and focused on his own memories.

He was snapped out of reliving his 8th or so year of life when he felt Emica stir in his arms, snuggling just that tiny bit closer.

He looked down at her and gently brushed a lock of her hair out of her eyes.

There was an internal debate over whether or not to wake her up when she looked so peaceful like this.

Even more so when he could feel how peaceful she was right now. Heck, he swore that as he watched he saw a scene of her on the edge of a dock before a tropical sunset, but the image dispersed swiftly.

He blinked at the oddity of this little visual hallucination, but shook it off as he proceeded to stroke her head like one would a dog or cat.

She chuffed in her sleep, tail wapping against the bed just a bit as she nuzzled into his hand.

‘Adorable,’ the Undead mused in the safety of his own head, his other hand now moving down to rub her belly once again.

She started to whine as he did this, tail wapping harder and louder as she squirmed, as if trying to get as close to him and the petting as possible.

He tried to chuckle as quietly as possible as his ministrations continued, then he stopped for
the coup de grace: A solid stroke of the fluffy tail.

As soon as he did this, he felt yet another surge go through him like yesterday, only this time he started to feel things much more than when the Bond began. He felt how at peace Emica was, how happy she now was, saw that scene of her on docks...but now with the added image of himself, with her leaning against him.

Curious and feeling experimentative, Richter focused on that image...and had the other him boop her nose.

Instantly he heard her giggle, and say, “Mmm...don’ do dat…” in her sleep.

In response, he had the other him start furiously fluffing the Fluffy Tail.

He saw the image of her laugh and squeal, while she herself said, “Riiichyyy…” in a whine.

His brain froze and groaned at the fact that his childhood nickname - the one he’d been teased mercilessly about - still haunted him as an adult. At that point, he felt that it was time to wake her up.

So he booped her nose while trying to imitate the sound of a certain killer robot bear’s squeaky nose.

“Wha…?” Emica’s eyes fluttered open slowly, and she wiggled her cute, black little nose as she looked around, then noticed him. “Richter…?” She rubbed her eye with a paw. “Why’d you wake me up…?” She yawned.

“Never call me ‘Richy.’ Even in your dreams. Hate that nickname,” Richter replied, gently flicking her forehead.

Emica blinked, rubbing her forehead as she looked up at him. “Why…?”

The Undead sighed, “Teased endlessly with it. Got compared to some kid in a movie about an eldritch child-eating monster that preferred the form of a clown.”

“Oh…” Emica’s ears drooped, and she looked down for a moment. “Gomen nasai, I didn’t know…”

“A tanuki that also speaks Japanese? Too fucking cute,” Richter said, abruptly hugging her like a teddy bear.

Emica squeaked at this, looking up at him in surprise. “Wh-What do you mean? That was Tanik.”

“Back home an entire nation of people who had legends about tanukis and all that spoke the exact same language, which was called Japanese after the nation itself, Japan. Lots of tentacle hentai and other weird cultural stuff they had going on.”

Emica blinked at this. “Hentai?” She tilted her head at him. “They had those monsters too?”

“Fictionalized. And hentai in that context refers to pornography. So lots of tentacles in vaginas and other places,” Richter ‘helpfully’ explained to the poor, innocent tanuki girl.

Emica blushed at this. “O-Oh. I-I mean, the Hentai back home are just tentacle monsters that feed on seminal or vaginal fluids, b-but...p-p-p-pornography being named after them k-kinda fits...I guess…”

“...Your nation sounds terrifying if it has actual tentacle hentai monsters. You should burn them all,” Richter said with the utmost seriousness, unwilling to imagine just how many adorable tanukis had been violated by those things. “But on a different note, when’s breakfast?”

Emica frowned, brows furrowing. “I don’t know. Master normally wakes me up herself to let me know. I wonder why she hasn’t come in to do so?”

“Maybe she’s masturbating or something? Meditating? Whatever the word is. My brain’s low on calories,” he shrugged...and started rubbing her belly again.

“Mm...I doubt she’s haitrik, she’s not like that. Meditation I could see though,” Emica replied, leaning into the rubbing. “Do that more, please...Your hands feel good~.”

“Tummy slut. And I mean that affectionately and/or playfully, not offensively,” the Undead chuckled, his fingers now curling inwards to cup and massage her plush belly.

“St-Still, oooooh, that’s good, meeeeean!” she said, pouting up at him despite her blush and wagging tail.

He leans down and whispers in her ear, “If it’s mean, then why is your tail wagging, hmm? I think you liiike iiit!”

“N-Noooo, stoooop~!” she whined, tail still wagging and starting to pant.

“Please tell me that panting isn’t arousal or else I fear Forossa will kill me,” Richter said, stopping his rubbing of the tanuki tummy to await her answer.

She let out a breath, but still pouted at him. “I...told you that...excessive petting...eventually makes Tanuki excited...silly.” She managed to get out between pants.

“...I don’t like how you tanuki get horny so easily,” he shook his head and removed his hands from her body. “Also sorry for touching the tail again. That’s basically mental peeping, what I did. Imagine if I’d seen you in more...compromising circumstances in your head.”

She blushed at this, burying her head in his chest, as if to hide her flushed features.

“I really should stop talking before I make your brain melt because my mouth refuses to have any filter.”

The door to the cargo hold opened, revealing Forossa there, in her armor. “I see you and my padawan have grown close.”

Emica simply whined and buried herself further in Richter’s chest.

“Kinda hard not to when our minds and souls and what not are linked by the damned Force,” Richter replied, softly patting Emica’s head as he kept his gaze on Forossa.

“Hard, yes. Impossible? No,” she turned around. “Come. It’s time we start your training proper, boy. Emica, you will assist.”

“My name is Richter,” the Undead grumbled, but followed after her nonetheless.

Emica slowly did the same, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart along with trying to hide her flushed face.

They soon walked out of the ship, and Forossa stopped them just a few hundred feet away from it and turned to face them. “First, we must evaluate to see just how much combat skill you have.” She looked to Emica. “Emica, I want you to spar with him. No mercy is to be given until he or yourself are spent. Am I understood?”

Emica looked briefly to Richter, then back to her master, before nodding slowly. “Y-Yes Master.”

“Understood,” Richter nodded, pulling his Astora Straight Sword and Defender’s Shield from his back and holding them at the ready - sword in the right hand and shield in the left.

Forossa nodded. “Good. Emica, I trust you know what to do.” She stepped back a few feet.

Emica nodded, turning and walking a few feet away before turning back to face Richter, getting into a fighting stance despite only being in pajamas and having no weapon on her. “I do, Master.”

“Good. Richter, are you ready?” Forossa asked, looking to the Undead.

Feeling rather surprised and inexplicably happy that she used his actual name, Richter nodded, “Ready as I’ll ever be to have my ass kicked.”

“Hmph,” She waved a hand down. “Begin.”

In an instant, Emica was on him. She grabbed the wrist holding his sword and pulled, hauling him over her head and slamming him to the ground. When he opened his eyes again, he saw her fist hovering just over his visor.

To her surprise and even his own, his body moved for him. A sweep of his leg into hers would at least put her off-balance long enough for him to use a hand to flip himself back on his feet and smack the Defender Shield into her chest as he pushed off the ground.

She cried out in surprise, stumbling back at this but not falling over, before shaking her head and furrowing her brows at him and pouting adorably.

“...How the fuck did I do that?” Richter asked in genuine confusion, even as he started circling around her - this time of his own accord.

“Instincts, boy,” Forossa told him. “It seems you have at least some.”

Emica didn’t wait much longer, zooming towards him again, but stopping right in front of him and roundhouse kicking into his sword hand.

His sword was dropped to the ground to grab her ankle, at which point his Pyromancy Flame formed on his palm and engulfed her ankle and foot...paw...thing in flames and searing heat.

“Gaah!” Emica cried, using her burning foot to slam him to the ground with a downward motion before she stomped on his hand with the other foot to release herself, followed by stomping and patting the burning one to get the flames out. She growled down at him. “You jerk! This is my only pair of pajamas!”

“No mercy,” Richter reminded her a moment before he slammed the mildly pointed bottom of the Defender’s Shield down on her other paw with a sickening crunch, followed by a flaming fist to her gut before he kicked himself back up on his feet.

Emica screamed in pain at this, stumbling back with a now bleeding paw. Then, her eyes gleamed. “ENOUGH!” She roared, a Force Scream ripping out of her throat and tossing Richter back hundreds of feet.

As he tumbled and landed, he was suddenly lifted up, then stretched out by unseen forces, Emica walking towards him slowly and menacingly with a snarl. A flick of her wrist and his shield flew out of his hand, followed by several cracks as his arm twisted and popped out of its socket.

Unfortunately for them both, a metal armpiece bending like that so quickly and so forcefully tends to make it shear.

The resulting sharp, jagged metal bent inward and sliced his forearm off, which fell twitching to the ground.

Richter couldn’t even scream.

But Emica could.

“RICHTER!” She cried, releasing him immediately and rushing over, gleam in her eyes gone. “Oh by the Ancients, what have I done?!” She looked him over frantically, trying her best to stop the bleeding. “Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap! Richter I’m so sorry!”

Richter shoved her off and, trembling like a crack addict going through withdrawal, scrambled for his arm. He snatched his arm off the ground and pressed it hard against his stump, moving his hand to hold the pieces of his arm together long enough for his Pyromancy Flame
to roar to life and melt some of the chainmail beneath the bradden steel of the Elite Knight armor, effectively welding his arm back on.

Didn’t stop the internal bleeding that was probably happening, nor did it do anything to make the unfathomable pain stop, but at least he wouldn’t bleed out.

“R-Richter, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I just, you stabbed me, and my anger took over and I-!” Emic was frantic, but Forossa walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Your anger has always been a weak point, Emica. Go. Meditate. Leave me with him,” she said sternly.

“B-But-!”

“Now.”

Emica looked between them both, grit her teeth, then ran off, trying and failing to hide the sobs she was choking back as she ran into the ship.

“...So…” Richter managed to get out after about half a minute of getting his breathing back to normal.

Forossa didn’t look at him, staring off at where Emica had gone. “I apologize.” She began.

“Oh, no, it...it’s fiiine. Shit happens, gotta just...roll with it. I’ll be...okay, I guess?” he said, sounding like he was in shock.

She snapped her head to him. “Do not even try to hide your pain and anger.” She sighed, looking away once more. “I should not have pushed for this. Emica is far too attached now, and it would be...remiss, of me to try and break that attachment like I have.” She shook her head. “So I apologize. For that…and for what I must now do, for your own sake.”

“Touch me and I melt your face,” Richter snapped at her with a light growl and a step away from her.

“I have no need for touching you. And regardless, if I do nothing, then you will simply die of blood loss, or die much more gruesomely at the hands of those in your own world,” she raised a hand, lifting him off the ground, his throat constricted. “I truly am sorry. I wish I knew another way to acquaint and teach you how best to survive...but I do not. I apologize.” Then, with a sickening snap and intense but thankfully brief pain, Richter knew nothing else but darkness.

He was back there again.

The Abyss.

Richter was already ‘running’ by the time he realized this, even if he didn’t really have a physical form or surface to ‘run’ on.

After a while, he stopped and looked around to see if Manus or whatever it was was following him or something.

Nothing all around.

He hesitantly sighed in relief. Nothing trying to kill him meant that he just had to...wait, he guessed, until he came back...if he even did.

A few minutes (or maybe hours; his sense of time in a place of pitch black darkness was rather off, as one would expect) of waiting and thinking about how hard he was going to punch Forossa in the ovaries, he heard something behind him.

He whirled around.

Nothing...save for a glimpse of lighter, glistening black vanishing from his range of vision just as he finished turning around.

“...Please hurry up,” Richter pleaded with…his body, he supposed, to wake up or revive or whatever it was gonna do, if anything.

He turned back around to put some distance between himself and that...whatever it was, but the moment he did he caught a glimpse of two black somethings.

He turned ‘right’ and bolted as fast as he could away from that general area.

Didn’t do jack shit, since he could FEEL an increasing number of presences behind him, following him.

Including a BIG one that was picking up speed.

Then he tripped, and he was immediately ‘pinned down’ by the deformed and mutated denizens of Oolacile or some other Abyss-warped place.

Then, He stepped from the black void and slowly approached him, dozens of glowing red eyes glaring balefully at him.

He struggled as much as he could as a disembodied consciousness, but to no avail.

Manus drew closer, massive tooth-covered hands slamming into the ‘ground’ beneath him as unspeakable growls left his twisted form.

“Wake up, wake up, revive, resurrect, reincarnate, DO SOMETHING, ME!” Richter ‘shouted’ in a frenzy, ‘thrashing’ furiously as Manus drew closer and closer, slowly extending a hand out to the Undead.

Richter actually managed to throw one of the abominations pinning him down off him as he screamed in primal terror at whatever the fuck the Father of the Abyss was about to do to him, but three more fell on him to keep him restrained.

Manus’s toothed hand was mere centimeters from his ‘head’ when the blackness gave way in a flash of fiery orange and Manus roared out, enraged at having been denied again.

When he came to, his hands were around Emica’s throat and he was squeezing hard.

He instantly let go and scrambled backwards from her, hyperventilating and enough adrenaline in his veins to kill two men.

“I-I-I-I d-d-didn’t m-mean to d-d-do that, E-E-Emica! Y-you gotta b-believe me!” the Undead stammered, shaking his head furiously. “I-I...I w-went somewhere when Forossa killed me, a-and there were fucking THINGS chasing me, a-and I- just- I didn’t mean to!”

Emica gasped for air, coughing a few times and waving him off. “I-I-It’s-” she coughed a few more times. “-f-fine, I did...cut your arm off, after all.” She shook her head. “I...came out here...because I felt your fear…and then knew...you were alive...” She smiled up at him, tears brimming in them. “I’m so glad…”

He managed to get his breathing under control with a few deep if unsteady breaths, then raised his left arm, which looked...good as new, even the armor.

“...Where is Forossa?” Richter asked, looking around.

Emica frowned, looking away. “You want to kill her, don’t you?”

“What? Fuck no, I’d just die again and I’m NOT going back there again if I can help it. I just want to have a chat with her.”

Emica sighed in relief. “She’s meditating in Xeneth’s lake.” Slowly, Emica stood up, brushing her pajamas off. He noticed the still burnt portion of it, and her fur.

“...Sorry about that. But, hey, if it scars...uh...could put a wedding bangle on it- I MEAN, UMM-!” Richter verbally backpedaled, waving his hands in front of him to try to defuse the situation his mouth just instigated.

Emica blushed at this, looking away and playing with her hair. “I-I don’t think I’m ready for that yet...a-a-and besides, it’d be on my tail, n-n-not my ankle.” She shook her head. “But like I said, it’s...fine. Master admitted she should’ve been more descriptive with the rules and not let us go shedding one another’s blood.”

“...Al...Alright. Let me know when she gets back,” Richter said, walking up to and gently hugging the tanuki for a few moments before he breaks away and makes his way back to the ship and his little home in the cargo bay.

Emica blinked, looking back to him. “I thought you were gonna go find her?”

“Not gonna bother wasting the energy on her,” the Undead replied flatly as he entered the ship and made his way back to cargo.

Emica frowned at this, then sighed deeply. “Today’s going to be a long day, isn’t it…”

Hours later, Emica walked into the cargo bay where Richter was. “Richter?” She asked timidly. “Master’s back.”

“Alright,” he acknowledged with a nod, but didn’t move from where his spot was, lying on his bed. “If she deigns to come back here to talk, I’ll be here.”

“I do,” came Forossa’s voice from behind Emica. “Come.” She turned around with no other words, walking off.

He didn’t follow, and instead stayed right where he was without a word in response.

Forossa sighed, stopping where she was. “If you wish to talk things out, I will not allow it to be in my own ship.”

“Tough shit. You fucking killed me, so I’m not exactly keen on going somewhere alone with you any time soon,” the Undead snorted with just a hint of venom.

Forossa sighed again, turning around and crossing her arms. “Yes. And-”

“Manus almost got me,” Richter cut her off, finally bringing his gaze around to lock onto her. “I apparently end up in the Abyss every time I die, and he’s there with all his little corrupted ‘children’, hunting me down.”

Emica frowned. “I don’t know what the Abyss is, but…” She looked to her master. “...I could feel his fear, Master, even though he was dead. I could feel something like the Dark Side, too, but...our Bond didn’t let me feel much else.”

Forossa said nothing, meeting Richter’s gaze with her own.

“I don’t know what he wanted with me, but considering how I felt my soul start to wither when he started reaching for me? I’d say he was going to snuff out my very soul. Take that and add onto it the fact that Force Bonds do some weird shit, Emica could have just dropped dead had Manus had the time to actually finish whatever he was doing. You almost killed your own padawan, Forossa. Let that sink in,” the Undead said coldly, his glare almost armor-melting.

Forossa continued to stare him down. “...” Finally, the Jedi relented, sighing deeply. “It sank in shortly after my padawan suffered a wound in response to your death. Gloat if you must.” Forossa met his gaze again. “But if you would have let me finish my previous statement, I was going to say that I am...sorry.”

“...I don’t gloat. But I forgive you. Just...just don’t take risks like that when you don’t fully grasp the mechanics behind what happens when I, specifically, die,” Richter sighed in apparent exhaustion.

He could almost imagine the wince Forossa made at his words. “Yes...Xeneth’s Pool allowed me to realize the difference between you and other Undead that I knew from so long ago.” She sighed. “As such, your training will have to be much less brutal than I originally planned.”

“Good for Emica and I, then,” he smirked in amusement beneath his helm.

Emica giggled behind a hand at the obvious predicament her master was in.

Said master loudly cleared her throat. “Anyway, that was all I wished to say. You two should rest and recuperate…” She glanced at Emica. “And you two should talk about the effects of your bond on one another. Specifically that wound, Emica.” With that, Forossa left the room.

The displaced former human swiveled his head to look at the younger Tanuki, “...So, I’m guessing the neck thing there wasn’t just from me strangling you?”

Emica winced. “No…” Sighing, she lowered the collar of her pajamas, showing a harsh scar that looked like it had just healed from being split. She avoided looking at him as she showed her shame.

“...Why are you looking like you stole from the cookie jar when it’s not even your fault?” her Bond mate asked, gently bopping her on the head. “I’m just...disappointed and sad that this happened to you, more than anything.”

Emica blinked, rubbing her head as she looked up at him. “Yeah, but… It’s still my fault you lost your arm, and because you did, Master killed you, so-”

“Nope. None of that. Not your fault. If anything, it’s my fault for the burning and trying to shatter your leg,” the Undead shook his head resolutely, arms crossed over his chestplate.

Emica frowned. “But-!”

“I will rub your belly with both hands if you don’t give up the self-blame game.”

Emica’s face bloomed into a blush, staring at him for a long moment, before she pouted, looked away and, to his surprise, stood up straight and lifted her shirt just enough to expose her belly. “...Just do it and get it over with, you p-p-pervert…”

Her tail was wagging.

“You’re enjoying this, you tummy-rub slu- I mean, belly-rub-loving goof,” he responded with an audible roll of the eyes, gauntlets running across the plush tanuki tummy with soft rubs and squeezes.

A few minutes passed that way with her biting her lip and trying to not whine and failing, before eventually she slowly pulled away from him. “R-Right. Let’s get you to the shower, then.” She began walking away from him with a spring in her step. Then, she blinked and stopped. “Oh! That’s right!” She put her finger to her chin. “Hmm...but what kind of scent to use...hmmm…”

Richter slowly blinked at her, still in the same position she left him in, “Wait, when did I agree to taking a shower?”

Emica turned to face him, paws at her hips as she gave him an admonishing glare. “Richter, I know you’re an Undead and a knight and all, but you shouldn’t abandon your civility and responsibility to yourself. So go clean up. Much as I love your smell, being dirty isn’t pleasant, especially when it coincides with such a nice smell.” She clapped her paws together. “So, chop chop, mister!”

The man just stood there for a few moments, then shrugged with his palms facing up as his feet carried him towards the ship and the sole bathroom aboard, “I...o-okay, then!”

Then he blinked and found himself in the shower with the water running and washing over his bare flesh.

Even though he didn’t have any memory of removing his armor or entering the bathroom, he supposed that wasn’t as important when he could see the water that touched his body visibly darkened to a brownish-red as accumulated muck and blood and whatever else was carried with it down the drain.

So today he had an arm severed, he died by a Force-snapped neck, found out that dying equals an ‘avoid the scary monster’ chase sequence in the Abyss until he revived or didn’t, and that he apparently was a good-smelling Undead.

Things were weird.

But at least they weren’t terrible.

When he exited the shower and found himself back in his armor again in the blink of an eye, his legs were carrying him back to the cargo bay since...well, he supposed he had nothing else better to do.

He was greeted with incense smoke and the smell of citrus.

Emica looked to him from the special incense burner in her hand, then smiled widely as she quickly put the diamond-shaped burner down and walked over to him almost giddily.

“Do you like it? I made it just now!” She stepped closer to him, right in his bubble. “Smell familiar?” She asked, still smiling widely up at him.

“Uh…” Richter looked down at her in confusion, nostrils flaring experimentally to figure out what the heck he was supposed to be smelling. He soon smelled a much more fresh scent of citrus coming from her, less smoky yet also just as rich.

“Oh...citrus. Uh...not exactly the biggest fan of it, but you do smell really nice, Emica,” the man finally said, gently patting the tanuki’s head even as her scent curled up into his nostrils and stayed there.

Emica beamed up at him. “Thanks!” Her tail wagged behind her as she hopped back out of his personal bubble. “Sorry if this is so sudden, but it’s customary among Bondmates to share scented items with their Bondmate, usually of their own scent. If the Bondmates wish to be just close friends, they typically make incense for one another. Otherwise...well,” she blushed a little, squirming. “They uh...make shampoo.”

“...From?” was all he could ask with a sudden sensation of impending embarrassment welling up in his gut.

She blushed a bit more. “W-Well, most of the same stuff for the incense.” She giggled nervously, twirling a lock of her hair. “I-I mean, to add your scent when transmuting, you add some of your fur, or sweat. Shampoo typically agrees more with sweat than fur, but incense agrees more with fur, so…”

“...So I’m breathing in...you, right now.”

Emica nodded slowly. “Is...that bad? It’s always been a normal thing back home.”

Richter shook his head after a few moments, “Nnno, just...cultural differences, let’s say. It’s not as...well, never really happens that we transmute our...fluids or skin into incense or shampoo; in fact that’s usually seen as a sign of obsession or mental disturbance because of how...weird it is for people back home. But if it’s how your people do it, then it’s not a bad thing, no.”

Emica blinked a few times, then smiled. “Oh, good!” She giggled happily. “I’ll be sure to make more for you so you can bring some with you when you eventually leave!”

“S-sure, if ya really want to. Thanks,” he rubbed the back of his head while the hand that had been patting her head this entire time continued doing so unabated.

A few hours later, Forossa walked into the cargo bay, crossing her arms over her armoured chest - which he was reminded of how said armour showed no sign of just how her chest actually looked - and staring down at where he was on his bed.

“What do you need, Forossa?”

“Come.” She said, turning and walking out again. “It is time for more training.”

Wordlessly, the Undead swung himself off the bed and followed the Gray Jedi, even if he dreaded what she was going to put him through.

As they reached the outside of the ship, she turned around to face him. “For this exercise, you will be against me. However, since we now know you have at least a modicum of fighting prowess, I will instead be teaching you something a fair bit more valuable - how to tap into the Force to sense disturbances and danger.” She poked him in the chest, right where his heart would be. “As you made a Bond with my padawan, it is obvious you can access the Force, thus, all we need do is teach you to use it more consciously.” She retracted her finger. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. So, what do I need to do?” the Undead inquired with a slight tilt of his helm.

Forossa tapped the spot of grass in front of her with the tip of her boot. “Sit here. Meditate.”

He did as specified and sat down with his greaves crossed in the lotus position to the best of his ability, eyes closed under his helmet while he got his breathing to a more relaxed rhythm.

“Focus on what’s around you. Hear it. Feel it. Smell it. Then...reach out. With your senses. Not your hands, but your senses, your feelings.”

“I’ve seen the movies, even clips of that...abysmal sequel trilogy one,” Richter said as calmly as possible, reaching out with his hearing, smell, taste and more as his focus went outwards from his body. He made every effort to tune out distracting thoughts and sounds so that he wouldn’t lose whatever progress to a meditative state he was making.

“What do you see?” Forossa asked, a smirk obvious in her voice.

“A giant dragon thing off in the distance that’s looking back at me, Emica off in her room or something brushing her hair...” he answered, brows furrowing in time with the frown forming on his lips. “I can also see that you’re fucking blindingly bright like a nuke just went off.”

Forossa chuckled for once. “Good, but you’re not digging deep enough. Reach out further than just attachments or people or creatures. Reach out to the island, the planet, and, if you can, further.”

“You mean like the giant nebulous masses of dark and white kinda looking at us but not really looking at us?” he asked with a flick of his pinky finger to point at something way off into the atmosphere just a bit to Forossa’s left and behind her.

Forossa rolled her eyes. “That’s one way of looking at them, yes. Now, what do you feel? What do you feel in those masses? Don’t dig too deep on either side, but feel each of them.”

“I mean the Dark Side is kinda already looking at me like a sirloin and the Light Side is just...assessing me. Oh and there’s some weird grey area between ‘em, but that could just be a trick of the eyes.”

Forossa’s eyes gleamed. “That grey is what you should always aim for, Richter. Never too much either Side, but balance between both. One can never exist without the other; that is the fact of all thinking life.”

“Mhm, I get all that. Balance and that kinda jazz,” Richter hummed in response...and experimentally ‘poked’ the grey with his senses.

The grey, in response, seemed to not react itself...but an utter waterfall of a flow of information raced through his mind. He saw two people, one an older woman with greying hair with a single braid, and one a masked man in armor that looked to be made of spikes and cords who screamed Sith Lord. He saw a man in white armor with a broad-brimmed hat, ghostly in form, appear between them. He saw two others, both identical, with shaved heads and pale skin, yet one wore black, and the other in white had a severely scarred face, and a cybernetic hand. This figure turned back to look at him, and narrowed his eyes.

’You probe too deeply, young one.’ Then, the vision was shut off, and he was left with a stinging headache.

“Had a guy with scars, a robohand and dressed in white glare at me, told me I dug too deep and shoved me the fuck out. Did I fuck up and summon some Force demon in the process?”

Forossa was silent, staring up at the sky. “...I will need to move, swiftly.” She looked back down to him. “It was no demon, I can assure you of that. But a foe nonetheless. We...did not meet on good terms.” She strode past him, towards the ship. “Displacer! I know you can hear me! Send him back! He needs not be part of this chase!”

A voice behind him spoke up. “Aren’t you forgetting something, dear?” said a sickeningly sweet british voice.

Forossa stopped short, then sighed. “For once, you make an actually good point.” She pulled a strange device out of her armor’s faulds, and tossed it back at Richter. “Find a way to attach that to your armor. It will give you a brief energy shield.”

The moment the device touched his armor (because he was never really that good at playing catch with his eyes closed), there was a sudden roar like the air itself was being torn asunder that the Undead was quite familiar with just as he felt...heard…sensed something akin to “Boon Acquired” before it all went silent once more, and Richter found that the shoulders and the collarguard of his chestplate were a bit heavier. He opened his eyes to see that he had two pauldrons on either side of him, rather than just the one on his left to protect his off-side, with faint ember or flame-like patterns rising up from the bottom of each pauldron’s curve. His collarguard was a bit thicker and rose up to two small nubs at the top of where his shoulder blades met, one at each cap.

“...That was different,” he finally said after some poking and adjusting of his armor’s new additions.

“Well, now that you’re done with that noisy fanfare,” continued the voice behind him. “Time you had another fall through the Void, hm?” A snap was heard, and Richter fell backwards just in time to see a bald man in an orange tunic with various satchels full of parchment in them wave at him with a far too friendly smile.

“I FUCKING HATE THIS FALLING BULLSHI-”

And then he was gone.

Author's Note

If it feels like it's been a while, that's because it has been. Hell, it's a new year, even. And if it feels like some bits and pieces here are awkward or going fast or whatever...well, not much my co-writer for this bit, Timeless Celestial, nor I can do to make it flow any better. Thankfully, we'll be back to just Richter next chapter, and all that that entails. Until next time, ciao.