UnderWhat?! (English Ver.)

Chapter 2: Scars and Memories

Before reading: Remember i have a trigger warning for a reason...

The air in the Ruins was cold, but not uncomfortable, with a faint earthy scent drifting through the stones. It was a familiar smell, almost comforting, as if the place was made to embrace those seeking refuge within its walls. Every drop of water falling in the distance echoed like a slow heartbeat, a reminder that even in solitude, there was life.

Toriel stood in her room, a space that had come to feel like both a refuge and a prison. Her gaze was fixed on an old box resting in the corner, covered by a thin layer of dust. The inscription on the lid was blurred, but she didn’t need it to know what it contained. A familiar weight settled in her chest, as if that box held more than just an object; it held a part of herself she had tried to leave behind.

With a mixture of caution and resolve, she knelt in front of the box. Her fingers trembled as they touched it, a chill running down her spine. She opened it carefully, the creak of the lid breaking the silence. Inside was the white cloak, folded with care, but marked by the years. Her heart raced at the sight of it. She had wanted to forget the weight of that fabric, but at the same time, she couldn’t ignore how much it defined her.

She held it before her, examining the small marks on the fabric, each thread seeming to whisper a memory. How long had it been since she last wore it? How many decisions, how many mistakes had been woven into the past that the cloak represented?

A deep sigh escaped her, heavy with emotion. "It’s just a cloak," she murmured to herself, as if saying it could convince her heart not to feel so much. But she knew she was lying. It wasn’t just a cloak; it was a piece of her life, her guilt, and her hopes. Finally, she draped it over her shoulders. Its weight was light, but the symbolism it carried was almost crushing. She closed the box carefully, sealing the memories inside, and left the room with a slow but determined step. The cold air of the Ruins only deepened the unease she felt.

In the castle...

The castle was a different place now. The stillness that enveloped it was almost unsettling, a stark contrast to the bustle and life that once filled its halls. Every step Toriel took echoed softly, as if the place was breathing with her. The air had a faintly sweet scent that awakened memories: the golden flowers, the hot tea they used to share… and the decisions that had driven them apart.

Toriel felt her chest tighten as she moved forward. It had been so long since she had been in the castle, and though she knew why she had come, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was making the right choice. Part of her wanted to return, but another part feared reopening herself to the pain.

The main doors creaked open, allowing Toriel’s figure to pass through. Her white cloak fluttered slightly with the motion, and her eyes scanned the place, searching for Asgore.

He was in a large room lit by soft light streaming through stained-glass windows. In his hands, he held a vase filled with golden flowers. His figure, robust but slightly hunched, seemed more vulnerable than Toriel remembered. His face, framed by his thick golden mane, showed a mix of nostalgia and timidity.

When he saw her enter, his gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, as if he didn’t know how to find the right words. Toriel stopped a few steps away from him, her eyes captured by the object in his hands.

The vase was old and cracked. Each crack had been carefully repaired, creating irregular lines that told a story of breakage and redemption. The technique was rudimentary but effective, and the effort behind each repair was clear.

Toriel: "You repaired it…" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper as she slowly moved toward him.

Asgore: (softly) "I thought about getting rid of it." He glanced down at the floor, his voice heavy with shame he didn’t try to hide. "But I couldn’t. It reminded me that, even if something is broken, it can be useful again. Even beautiful."