From Vinegar to wine

Meet the Murasakino's part 1

AN: next chapter 20% done.

8/19/2024 edit. Fixing up the format a bit accidentally switch what Mineta should be bold

Italic for thinking to oneself

Italic for vault

Italic for vault mineta when speaking to POV Mineta

Italic bold for the POV Mineta when he is only mentally replying to the other Mineta

How long has it been? The vault says 30 minutes, but my arms feel like they are burning—probably because they were. My eyes were long gone, melted from my head after the third attack. My ears followed, and I had to spit out the bubbling remains of my tongue when I made the mistake of screaming. The corpse under me twitches, and the echo of my mind that could still contain hope groans as I tighten my grip, feeling the flesh under me start to knit itself back together.

Here it comes. 7-6-5

The shockwave hits again, blood leaking through my gritted and cracked teeth as it rips through my body. The only reason I was still alive was because I had grown my grape armor out in a sound disruption pattern. Still, that didn't mean I would survive this.

5-4-3

How many of us are still alive? Bastion seemed to be able to take the shockwave, but both he and Wendy were done. I would kill for So-Ri to hear an action song; it would have been very helpful at this point.

2-1

A hand grabs my shoulder, grape armor the only thing stopping it from being turned into powder with a flex of the corpse's muscles. It still nearly broke it in half. Didn't matter though—pain is pain, and I had a job.

0

My arm stabs forward into the healing flesh, driving the blade into the corpse through the bottom jaw into its brain, returning it to its proper state.

You're dead. Remember that you are dead, I think dully, twisting the knife before pulling out the blade. I couldn't hear it anymore, but I wiped the blade on a puddling mush that used to be a group of my hairballs. The corpse's blood was acid, mostly specified to non-original material, but after so much exposure, my attacking hand had lost most of its skin.

30-29-28-27

How much of the knife is left? How much of me is left? I wonder what everyone else is doing back at home. Do they remember—I shift the thoughts away. Half a minute before this thing comes back to life, and I'm wasting it on classmates that left me to rot. I spit out some loose teeth and hack out some of the liquid trying to fill my lungs before rearing my head back and letting out whatever sound I could. I couldn't hear what sound it was; it could have been a roar or a whimper. Either way, I hoped someone would be around to hear it.

26-25-24-23-22

Who is still alive? Bastion, possibly. Wendy can live through anything. I wouldn't mind So-Ri being here—music vs. soundwave sounds like a better matchup for us, heh. My mind goes in circles. The knife will last for at most 7 more minutes. After that, I might get another minute using the keys in my pocket, possibly another if I get a rock with the right shape. After that, it's over. A part of my mind curses at me for giving up, but after looking back at it, I could proudly say it was realism or maybe even pragmatism. The moment the corpse's brain heals enough, he will be able to focus the regeneration on the little opening I've been taking advantage of, and then I can't even touch him.