Summary:Fear – Everybody knew he hated weapons. Nobody knew why exactly. (Eight's [fake] backstory) (Tragedy, T for murder)

Hero – Can't anyone understand that he was dealing with something important that day? He just wanted to be left alone… (Jack and Cater story) (Hurt/comfort story, T for swearing, Jack maybe OoC in here)


Fear

Everyone in school knew Eight doesn't use weapons. They all knew he hated them. They knew it had something to do with the past. They believed he thought he was better than weapons. They assumed it was because of the Milites. What a total lie. They never knew the true story. They never knew why he hated weapons.

It was a warm summer day in his village. Eight was playing with his friends. He was like every eight year old kid at that time. He had no problems or worries. All he knew about life back then was to study hard, obey his parents, and have fun. He never knew about the terrorists invading small villages. So it scared him when they came to his village.

They took away their food.

They took away their electricity.

They took away their happiness.

And they made him do the most horrible thing a person could have done.

He was shaking behind the sofa when one of them barged in the door. He tore his home apart and barked out orders to other terrorists when he found his parents hiding in the closet. "Are you the only one living here?" he yelled at them.

"Yes." His father signaled him to go outside through the backdoor. Out of his own selfishness and obedience to his parents, he did what he was told. He carefully crawled towards the kitchen and held the door. He was about to open it when someone from behind it did.

It was another terrorist.

He hit Eight on the cheek with his gun. He clearly recalled the horror on his parents' face he was he dragged him in front of them with a terrible gash across his face. The other terrorist, who was talking to them, seemed extremely angry to discover that they had a son. "So, you said you had no child. Since this is not your son, then he can kill you right?"

"Kill?" he muttered, "What do you mean?"

He handed Eight a gun. "They claim they are not your parents. I don't think so. I would be pretty pissed if I were you. Come on. Shoot them for what they deserve."

He felt frozen. His soul felt like it had left him. He stared blankly at his parents and then to the gun. He shook his head slowly. "I won't."

"Aw, the little boy doesn't know how to kill?" the terrorist mocked him. He then took the gun from his hand, "This is how you do it!" He then aimed the gun at his mother and pulled the trigger. His mother just dropped dead on the ground. A pool of blood emerged after. Her husband tried to get her, but the other terrorist had his gun pointed at him.

"MOM!" Eight screamed. He was about to run to her when the terrorist punched him in the gut.

"Now time for Pops." The terrorist said as he threw the gun back to him. "Don't disappoint me, kid. Or you're next."

Eight gulped and shakily held the gun. He tried to aim it at his arm so that the shot won't be lethal. His hand was shaking though.

"Just shoot." His father said, "I'm ready to die. You still have a life to live."

"Dad…" he tried to force himself not to cry, but the tears that fell down betrayed him, "Please, don't say that!"

"Agh! Stop this crap kid." The terrorist pulled the hair on his head and nearly lifted him from the floor. "Kill him or you're next."

He held Eight's arm and pointed it to his father, "Go on. And no funny business or you'll regret it."

The boy looked helplessly at his father and shook his head, "What should I do?"

Suddenly, his father ran towards him. Eight yelped and pulled the trigger. "DAD!"

He wanted to hear a loud shriek of pain. Maybe even a curse. But there was nothing but a thud. He opened his eyes to see his father in the same limp position as his mother.

The terrorist patted him on the back, "Good for you kid. Now you know what it is like to kill! Now time to kill you too." But when he finished that statement, a young man with purple hair barged through the door. He wore some type of uniform with a red cape. The terrorist yelled out something, but the man quickly stabbed him in the gut. Eight watched as blood dribbled down his mouth and the color of his eyes slowly faded. The man picked up the terrorist's dead body and looked at the boy, "Stay here until I tell you it's safe. I…I'll help you figure out what to do." He then left.

Eight stared at the gun. He killed his own father. In just one second, he was gone. He threw the gun at the opposite side of the house and fell to his knees. It then sunk in. He was alone.

"NO!" he screamed as he woke up on his bed. Fast-forward nine years and here he was, in one of the dormitories of Rubrum's magic academy, Peristylium Suzaku. He looked at Jack, his roommate, and hoped that he had not woken him up. Instead, he just mumbled something about Moohemoths.

Eight sighed and placed his head back on his pillow. It had hurt him to just think of his parents, much more remember the day they died. The reason he hated weapons was not because he thought he could do better. He feared the speed of how they can kill people. It didn't matter if the person was a child or an elder, a man or a woman, an enemy or a loved-one. It simply does its job, to kill.

That was why he feared them so much.

Hero

Jack's classmates looked at him with worry. This was not right. Not right at all. Eight waved a hand in front of his face, "Oi. Class is over. Come on."

No reply. They looked at each other. This was certainly weird. Jack was usually one of the first people to escape once Kurasame's lessons were done. He also had a big grin on his face when it does. Now, there was no grin. There was not even a trace of a smile or smirk.

"Jack." Cinque tried to shake him on the shoulder. He looked up at her, his expression showed no confusion or embarrassment. Instead, it showed anger.

"What the hell?" he yelled at her. "Can't you see I'm trying to think of something? Jeez, why can't you leave me alone? Leave me alone, you dumb-"

Cinque gasped and immediately left the room with tears in her eyes. Trey glared at him before chasing after her. The others were simply stunned by what he said. Jack never cursed. Ever.

"Hey, calm down." Nine said coolly, "Look, why are you so angry? Sure, everyone has their days, but cussing at Cinque is not cool. What is up with that?"

Queen smirked at him, "As if you don't curse, Nine."

"Hey. That's me. And I don't curse to girls…well except you. Jack is different." Nine shrugged and left the room. In honest truth, even he expected more of Jack. King followed shortly after. When thirty minutes had past, it was only Jack, Eight, Deuce, and Cater remaining in the room.

"Jack. Is there something wrong?" Deuce asked softly. "Why do you look so angry?"

Jack groaned very loudly to show that he is very annoyed with the conversation. "Mind your own business, will ya, Douche? Yeah, you heard me, douchebag. You are so annoying, you know? And what kind of parent will give their child a name that sounds like douche? Stupid ones, I guess."

Her eyes widened and immediately her breathing started to become uneasy. Eight went up to him and punched him right on the face, "Dude? What is wrong with you?"

Jack shook his head and stood up. "Oh yeah. Yeah. What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me! I'm not the one who murdered my own father! Am I right, Eight?" he grabbed his assignment and stormed away from them.

Deuce rubbed away the tears and immediately forgot what Jack had said to her when she saw Eight's expression. He shook his head away from them and swore with a shaky breath. Cater simply shrugged and turned to flutist, "Hey, I'm going to see what's wrong with him."

Cater's first guess on where Jack went to, the cafeteria, was where he was. He was sitting in a booth and looked very… "Emo." Cater said loudly, "Man. You are such an idiot, ya know?"

He shook his head and yelled, "I thought I told you to leave me alone."

She summoned her gun and began to polish it, "You told Cinque that, not me."

"Well I meant it to you as well." He said coldly.

"Great!" she said sarcastically, "The more reason not to!"

"Oh fal'cie." He looked up to the heavens, "Please hear me. I have a new sacrifice for you. She's right beside me. I'll be grateful if you take her now."

She rolled her eyes and chuckled, "Shut up Jackass. Now tell me, what's your problem? What's up with the angry-bit?"

"Angry?" he asked, though his tone was a little softer, "Why does everyone assume I'm angry?"

"Well, you have been cussing to everyone. You even cussed to Deuce and Cinque, which even Nine, Sice, and myself won't do. Man, you reached a new low for that. Congratulations, buddy." She slapped him on the back a little too hard.

He glared at her and rubbed the aching spot, "I'm not angry, Cater. I'm upset." She raised an eyebrow and continued to listen, "Cater. My hero, my idol…my uncle, he died yesterday…"

Now that took her by surprise. "W-what?"

"My uncle, who inspired me to pick up a katana, the one who I think of as my father since my real father died ten years ago, died in the war today." He said very weakly that Cater had to sit beside him in order to hear it all. She looked at him and saw that his eyes were watery. "I wasn't angry. I was upset. I felt that no one seemed to notice the lost I just had. No one gave a damn care."

Cater punched him weakly on the shoulder, "Oh fal'cie. Consider taking this guy as your sacrifice instead since he is truly a dumb idiot."

Finally, for the first time that day, he smiled, though it was a faint smile. "Explain."

"Okay. Uncle, your hero, died today. Big boo-hoo. Then you go to class to think everyone would know that news? If you at least told us, then we would have kept our mouths shut." Cater couldn't help but grin at his reaction, "So do you agree that you are an idiot?"

He didn't do anything for a while. Then slowly, he nodded his head. "Yeah. I kinda was…huh?"

"Kinda?" she smirked.

He sighed and shook his head, "Okay, fine, big idiot."

"Tell me…why didn't ya tell us?"

Jack raised his eyebrows and gave a weak smile, "Well, everyone sees me as the joker of the class. I dunno, everyone seems depressed about the war and I want to keep the class happy. If I show that I'm sad, that will definitely ruin the picture."

"Thus," she continued, "Instead of expressing your pain to us, you turned into a big jerk. That is way better than getting all emotional."

He frowned and looked at her. "Sorry…"

"To me? Nah, no problem." She said as she stood up and stretched her arms. "You might wanna apologize to the others. Especially Cinque. I don't think Trey was happy that you made her cry."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

"But first," she held out her arms, "My mother always said that hugs are the best way to let out one's emotion, or something like that. Me? I think they feel good."

Jack snickered at the idea of hugging Cater, but when she pointed her gun at him, he knew she meant business. He laughed as he began to hug her. As she wrapped her arms around him though, the familiar feeling that his uncle gave him returned. He nearly stopped breathing and closed his eyes tight as he began to feel the tears form. He held her tightly and wanted to relieve that emotion, even though it was painful to remember.

"Jack, there is always a time when a human dies. There is always a moment of sadness, but you have to learn how to let go. Let their soul be free, or they will regret dying." His uncle once said to him when his father died.

He felt her releasing her grasp, but he didn't want to let go. He felt her shift under his arms, "Fine, just a little longer." She muttered.

Let go, Jack! Let go! Let go…! Let go... He repeated to himself until finally he unwrapped himself from Cater. His breathing was uneven and his vision was blurred. Take care…

He looked away from her and cleaned his face with his sleeve. He then turned back her. He felt much better already. "Thank you, Cater."

"Yeah." She said as if she were in a dream, "No problem. Hey. Don't feel bad that your hero died Jack. He wouldn't want that, right? Unless he was a sadist…"

He grinned and nodded. She was right.

His uncle was a sadist.


A/N: Fear – I immediately thought of Eight's fear of weapons when I saw the prompt. I made up the whole terrorist story. I was going to use Milites, but I'm pretty sure they weren't bad yet…I'm sure those who read Why was Sice afraid of Seven know what Moohemoths are :D…

Hero – I did very little to make the prompt connected to the story XD. Come on, Jack maybe the cheerful one in class, but even he should have his "dark days". Also, I think Cater/Jack is slightly possible o3o

You know, at this rate, Cater is going to join the ranks of Eight, Jack, and Deuce in this story :P (though I was kind of surprised at how high her voice is)

I'm scared to say that with the new voice clips, Cinque is starting to sound like the class' baby instead of Deuce…why! (sobs) Oh well…at least TGS is coming in a few more days! I'm so excited! Hope we get some Seven, Deuce, and Trey gameplay and maybe more Eight and Cater gameplay!