general smol1

archer had come to expect to be involved in difficult situations at all times. he was a trouble magnet for as long as he could remember and now he’d even signed up for it. he was constantly surrounded by chaos. sometimes, he himself was that chaos. even for all of their strangeness and inconvenience, archer sometimes liked the challenge.

this, however, was a tough call.

general mato, perhaps an even bigger harbinger of chaos than archer, had gotten himself into a lot of trouble.

he’d been severely injured in a battle. being mostly compromised of mud that takes on a physical form, he typically takes damage much better than a human would. that being said, he was no match for the magic that had been used against him. archer didn’t see everything that had happened; he couldn’t tell if there had been some kind of amplifier at work, but what he did see what general mato’s damage barrier fold like paper as his opponent’s attack ripped through his body. it was gruesome. an entire leg and a good portion of an arm and his midsection were completely gone. normally, those pieces of him would have turned to mud to be collected (or more conveniently, general mato could sometimes call back what was missing to restore his body,) but this time, archer couldn’t see anything that remained of the pieces ripped from the trembling, rasping body below him.

they were just. gone.

black viscous liquid moved like sludge from his open insides and archer could tell by general mato’s expression that he also knew something was horribly wrong with this. then again, he’d never been hit this hard before. maybe he had exhausted the good graces of his regeneration skill. trying to speak, a bubble of mud travels through his throat and he coughs, the heave of his chest pushing more thick liquid from his open cavity. his eyes were getting heavy and archer already had an idea of what he was going to say.

“I can’t... I can’t hold it.”

his form, he means. it always requires some level of concentration that general mato had learned to apply at all times, but with such a large part of him missing, it’s weakened him far too much. with no small amount of worry and pity, archer gently runs his hand through general mato’s hair before cradling his face.

“It’s ok. I’ve got you.”

all it took was a sigh of relief and general mato’s solid form disappeared, leaving the blackened, oily mud to seep from between archer’s fingers. it was too vulnerable of a state to be in bad company, so archer quickly ushers every last visible bit of the substance into a canteen and tucks in firmly into the belt at his side. he worries about the pieces of general mato that had disappeared; obliterated from the blast he tried to withstand.

the hot sun beat down on archer as he adjusted his cloak and briskly walked through the village. the tin of the canteen sometimes clicked against the metal of his belt as a constant reminder that someone important to him needed him desperately at this moment. shinji hated being anything but self-sufficient. while general mato is a little more blasé about his physical and magical shortcomings, he knows this is going to be difficult on him. at least these days he’s gotten much better at communicating. perhaps he won’t lie about his condition so much while he recovers. archer knows he can be somewhat of a helicopter nurse, but it isn’t without good reason.

back in the safe house, archer ponders where to put shinji for now. he cant very well have the space to reform in the canteen, so archer rummages around in the room’s meager excuse for a closet before producing... a tin bucket.

hey. beggar’s can’t be choosers.

the tin bucket is set in the room where he can watch it. archer’s overly sensible self thought to put it in the wash basin or shower, but the prospect of shinji being too close to any kind drain made his blood run cold.

hours passed. archer showered; washed their clothes. he cooked some of their rations on a hot plate that had been left behind. he left some out for shinji, not knowing if he would want anything when he finally came to. after the sun had long since gone down, archer finally nodded off — sitting upright and standing guard over the tin bucket.

in the earliest hours of the morning, the bucket tipped over. the sludgy mess quickly began to assemble itself; working without missing a beat. the extremities were always slower, however, and his arms and legs formed with care as the color returned to them. the body was still asleep; general mato was still off duty.

archer heard the clatter of the bucket, but it had appeared in a dream that he no longer remembered. scrubbing at one of his eyes, he quickly notices the body lying at his feet. archer drops to his knees, rolling shinji onto his back, when his face grows pale.

this was shinji. there wasn’t any doubt about that, but. this wasn’t the shinji he had been hoping for. it doesn’t take long for archer to remember the missing pieces of him, which could be the only thing to lead him to looking like this. brushing some of his hair from shinji’s face, he stared down at him with a furrowed brow.

he was... small.

not like. miniaturized or anything of that sort, but, he looked younger. his face a little softer and his shoulders more narrow — his limbs were lanky just as they had been; far beyond before all of this. while shinji had never been particularly tall, he had very plainly lost several centimeters. the way he was breathing suggested that his body was still working on the finishing touches inside him. archer wrapped him up in a blanket and placed him softly on the bed. there was a chance this was just a status effect from the lost matter. he didn’t know all that much about the nature of the mud, but maybe it could replace itself in time. either way, there was a new and stressful happening to take care of.