The simplest way to put it, Sans was tired. Tired of the repetition of lies and pain. Tired of the ones close to him being deceived with kindness, only to be killed. And tired of fighting in the same loop with the one person he learned to loathe with every fiber of his being; Frisk.
Dodging yet another attack, he continued with his tedious routine, yet, he couldn't help but question, was all of this pointless? If everything was just going to reset, was there a point?
Sans, so lost in thought, didn't notice the knife that glided through the air in their small, almost innocent-looking hands. Not enough time nor willpower to dodge, he takes the hit. It sunk deep into his ribs, the sound of cracking bones the only thing Sans could focus on.
Does it always hurt this much? Did Papyrus's pain get worse? Or is it always the same for him since he can't remember? San's thoughts repeated in his consciousness over and over. His surroundings blurred into a jumble of color and movement as his mind crumbled apart from each passing second.
He slowly shuffled past the human in front of him, not even his usual lines being said this time as he simply walked off. Finally, when his body gave out, he collapsed. His knees roughly clanked on the golden tiles, and his arms laid unmoving on either side of his torso.
As the world darkened around him, a bright silhouette of a man flashed before him. Sans forced his head to look up at the figure, only to be met with a blurry mask covering its features as it incoherently mumbled something before reaching a gloved hand out to Sans.
Though he didn't know what it said or what it was trying to do, he drunkenly grabbed it, the firm grip partially bringing him back to his senses. A yellow mask with a painted smiley face stared down at him, porcelain-like skin being shown through the many cracks it bore.
Sans once again was consumed by his prior fatigue, only his hearing staying intact. A blade being unsheathed was heard, and a dampened chuckle echoed beside his skull.
"Good choice."
____
What...what happened? I remember fighting with the kid and getting hit. After that, it's all a blur.
I slowly get up in a sitting position and open my eye sockets, only to see the unfamiliar blurs of grays and reds. Kinda sucks being half-blind with my only good eye-light also failing its job at letting me see clearly. Though, it's still pretty easy to tell that this is not my home nor the underground.
The air smells of food, gas, and other foreign scents, while the ground is cold and rough, almost the opposite of the warm breeze that goes through all openings in my skeletal frame.
I start to stand up on my boney feet but am instantly meet with a painful feeling on my chest and a dark red blur growing on my jacket. I hiss in pain, heading towards the ground once again. Why does my chest hurt so much? It should've been healed by now if this is a reset.
Slowly, I pull my white turtle-neck shirt up to see a long diagonal scar going across my ribs from my shoulder to my hip. This scar is nothing abnormal since the kid's first genocide run, but usually, it always heals itself where it's barely even visible after a reset. Yet this time, blood is pouring out of the wound like it only just happened. The only indication That some time has passed since the battle was the scab forming at the edges.
This could only mean one thing... a reset hasn't happened yet. Take note of the word 'yet.' The brat must've broken something again, as this has happened before. Since the 550 resets, the kid learned how to change the coding when the FUN value is 100 or over. These anomalies have happened 8 times so far. Two of the times (not including this one) resulting in me respawning onto the surface.
After I supposedly died, Frisk must've tried to reset, but something glitched, resulting in this. Yet... that still wouldn't make sense.
Even if something did glitch, I should've healed by now, let alone still be bleeding. It didn't add up. Oh well, things will just reset anyway. Might as well enjoy the new experience. Doing the same thing for so long kinda does a number on your soul.
I start to heal the cut, making it so it wouldn't bleed anymore but still pretty visible. Sadly before I could fix it up all the way, three figures are seen through the corner of my sight. I rush to zip up my jacket, just in time before the things spotted me. They couldn't be alive as I couldn't see their souls, one of the only ways I could sense somebody.
Hope they ain't hostile.
I stumble a couple of times before finally standing up, the pain not as bad as before. I stand in silence, waiting for one to start a conversation. Though, I don't know what I'm expecting as none of them even has a sou-
???#1: hey! Are ya blind?! don't just ignore us, freak!
What the...they can speak? They don't have souls, though. Are they like some type of robots the humans made? Suddenly, the one standing closes to me pulls a small shining object out from his side...a knife. Wouldn't forget how it looked even when I could barely see. The sight was already burned into my sockets a long time ago.
???#2: are you stupid?! Or just scared? Ha! Wouldn't blame you if you were. Either way...𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕕.
With one blade comes another...and another, and another. Until there are at least 20 surrounding the area, each glowing neon green. To the right, a silhouette had a similar green glow as the knives, and to the left, white lines covered what seemed to be a person's face.
???#2: Heheh...ready?
Still confused, but if they really wanna do this...
Sans: wrong question, buddy. More like...𝕕𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖?
???#2: ...𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞~
To be continued...
890 words
YOU ARE READING
Recovery Of A Skeleton (Sans x BNHA)
Fanfiction[this story is under rewrite, so bare with me until I finish it please.] Sans has always followed his script, with no flaws in dialogue nor actions every reset. All because he knew it would all be pointless in the end... or was it? Fighting and dyin...
