The sun was warm.
The grass shimmered with dew that hadn't yet given up to the heat, and the smell of bread baking wafted from nearby homes. It was one of those lazy days where time stretched like a cat in a sunbeam, and for once, nothing was wrong in the world.
Sylphy stood with her hands behind her back, barefoot in the grass.
Rudeus grinned at her, a bit cocky.
"I bet you can't hit that rock," he said, pointing to a chunk of stone sticking out of the ground twenty paces away. "Come on, try your wind spell again!"
Sylphy glanced at Sans, uncertain.
He was lounging nearby on a worn wooden crate, arms folded behind his head, grinning from ear to ear—literally. His hood was down today, letting his bleached skull rest in the sunlight like a sunbathing lizard. Occasionally, a passing kid would gawk at him and get a glowing wink in return.
"you got this, green bean," Sans called lazily. "just feel the air around you, like you're tryin' to borrow a breeze from a friend."
Sylphy turned red. "I-I'm not a green bean..."
Rudy snickered.
"Then prove him wrong!" he said, stepping back. "You can do it."
Sylphy took a breath, held her hands out. A faint shimmer surrounded her fingers, swirling like unseen threads in the air.
Then—whoosh—a burst of wind shot forward and smacked the rock dead center.
It toppled with a dull thud.
"I-I did it!"
"Nice!" Rudy jumped up, fist-pumping the air. "That was way cleaner than last time!"
Sans clapped slowly, mock-serious. "guess that rock's officially... blown away."
Rudeus groaned. "Sans!"
"what? i've got a bone to pick with that pun limit you keep tryin' to set."
Sylphy giggled.
It wasn't much, just a quiet laugh behind her hands, but it was real. And it warmed both brothers more than a dozen successful spells could have.
Later, the three of them sprawled under the shade of a tree just outside the village fence, bellies full of sandwiches and pockets full of pinecones and pebbles they'd collected like treasure.
Sylphy leaned against Rudeus' shoulder, tired from spellcasting. Rudeus let her stay, cheeks a little red but not saying anything.
Sans sat with his back to the trunk, one leg crossed over the other, bone fingers weaving a little flame between them—blue and flickering, like a soul-shaped candle.
"...Do you think people ever stop being scared of what's different?" Sylphy asked quietly.
Rudeus tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
"I mean... people look at my ears, or my hair, and they... don't like me. I didn't do anything, but it's like they've already decided what I am."
Sans was silent for a second.
Then: "you wanna know a secret?"
Sylphy looked up.
Sans leaned forward, grinning with glowing eyes. "some people are always gonna suck. doesn't matter if you're green, purple, or shaped like a question mark."
Sylphy blinked. "...Huh?"
"but," Sans continued, "the good ones? they see past all that. they look at your soul."
He held out his hand.
A tiny green soul flickered there, warm and vibrant.
Sylphy gasped. "That's...?"
"nah, not yours. just a replica," Sans said. "but if yours shines even half as bright, you've got nothin' to worry about."
Sylphy smiled, just a little.
Rudeus patted her hand. "Don't worry. If anyone bullies you again, I'll blow their pants off with a wind spell."
"and i'll make their bones rattle 'til they beg for mercy," Sans added cheerfully.
Sylphy giggled again, sniffling just once.
"...Thank you," she said.
As the sun began to dip below the treetops, the trio slowly made their way back toward the village. Sylphy carried a basket of rocks, Rudy carried a grin, and Sans?
He just watched them from behind, hands in his pockets, humming a lazy tune.
These moments were rare.
And precious.
Because even a monster who remembered dust and genocide needed reminders of what was still worth protecting.
...
The mood in the house had shifted.
Something was off.
The halls were quieter than usual, too quiet. Zenith moved like she was holding her breath. Lilia barely made eye contact. Paul... well, Paul was doing that thing where he pretended to be busy but somehow always avoided everyone's gaze.
Rudeus hadn't noticed.
Too caught up in mana control and Sylphy's laughter.
But Sans?
He noticed.
He always noticed.
He caught the tension in the air the moment Lilia skipped the morning greetings. Noticed how Paul flinched when Zenith walked past without a word. How Zenith's smile had become more of a grim line.
So, of course, he followed the trail.
Because some mysteries don't need a [RESET] to unravel.
It wasn't hard to put together.
Lilia moved differently lately—slightly more cautious with her steps, always brushing her stomach when she thought no one was looking.
Paul was quieter.
And Zenith?
Zenith was angry in that quiet, simmering kind of way. Like lava under a frozen lake.
So when Sans found Paul alone in the training yard, nursing a bottle of something stronger than his guilt, he took a seat beside him on the fence.
Didn't say a word at first.
Just sat there, legs dangling, skull tilted toward the sky.
" ...I messed up" Paul finally muttered.
Sans raised an eye socket. "took ya long enough."
Paul flinched. "You knew?"
"dude. i knew before you knew."
" ....How?"
"body language," Sans said, tapping the side of his skull. "and y'know. the fact you've been dodging zenith like a kid dodging homework."
Paul sighed and buried his face in his hands.
"She's pregnant."
Sans nodded slowly. "and it ain't zenith."
" ...It was a mistake."
Sans didn't reply immediately. Just watched a pair of birds fly overhead.
Then: "you think saying that makes it better?"
Paul was quiet.
" ...You gonna tell Rudy?" he asked, glancing sideways.
Sans snorted. "nah. kid's got enough goin' on. i'll handle it."
Paul looked at him, really looked.
"You're not even angry?"
Sans' grin dropped.
"oh, i am" he said. "but not the yelling kind. more like... disappointed. you had something good, man. and you almost threw it away for a five-minute mistake."
" ...She said she didn't want to cause trouble. That she'd leave."
Sans stood.
The wind picked up.
He faced Paul with his sockets narrowed.
"she ain't the one who should leave."
Then, without another word, he turned and walked back to the house.
Later That Evening
Zenith stood at the sink, cleaning dishes a little too forcefully.
Sans entered the kitchen, quiet as always.
"hey" he said casually. "we talkin'?"
Zenith glanced back. " ...About what?"
Sans walked up beside her and leaned against the counter.
"about how you're pretending everything's fine when you're burning inside."
She stiffened.
Then.... "He told you."
Sans nodded. "yep."
A pause.
" ...What would you do?" she asked quietly, not looking at him.
Sans was silent for a long time.
Then he said: "i'd be mad. real mad. but... not at Lilia."
Zenith blinked. Looked at him. "Why not?"
"'cause she ain't the one who made promises to you."
Zenith's lips parted.
"and from what i can tell?" Sans added. "she was scared. ashamed. ready to run."
Zenith's grip on the cloth loosened.
"maybe she messed up. maybe she didn't. but Paul?" Sans shrugged. "he knew better."
" ...So what now?" she whispered.
Sans gave a faint smile. "you decide what 'family' means. but... don't throw away what you built just 'cause one bone's outta place."
She blinked at that.
Then laughed softly. "You really are something, Sans."
"yep," he said. "best family counselor this side of the grave."
The Next Morning
Zenith and Lilia spoke privately. There were tears.
Apologies.
Eventually, a quiet decision.
Lilia would stay. The child would be raised here. As family.
Paul apologized again, formally this time.
Sans? He just went back to the attic, pulled his hood down over his skull, and dozed off.
When Rudy peeked in later, he found him snoring with a tiny blue soul-flame bobbing at his side.
" ...Hey, Sans?" Rudy whispered.
"mrrgh" came the muffled reply.
"I heard Mom and Dad talking. Did you fix something again?"
A long pause.
" ...nah" Sans muttered. "just reminded 'em what not to break."
...
A boy who know too much.
She had served noble houses before. Seen countless children born of privilege—spoiled, loud, reckless. But none like the Greyrats' second son.
Sans was different. Not just in appearance, though the skeletal form he could shift into was still... unsettling at times. But it was more than that. He moved like someone much older than his frame suggested. Spoke with the weight of years. Of loss. Of experience.
It wasn't until that day—the day the air in the household thickened with unspoken words—that she truly saw him.
He didn't shout. Didn't judge. He simply... understood.
He saw her fear, her guilt, her resolve to leave so as not to tear this family apart. And with a few words, some well-placed truths, he held the fragile seams of the household together.
Lilia had prepared for exile.
She never expected mercy.
And certainly not from a child.
Now, as she watched him from across the courtyard, arms tucked behind his head, pretending to nap under a tree while his brother practiced flame magic, she felt something strange in her chest.
A quiet, maternal warmth.
He never asked for praise. Never explained what he did.
But she knew.
And for the first time in years, Lilia felt something she thought had withered long ago:
Trust.
That night, when the rest of the house had dimmed into soft lamplight and sleep, Lilia moved through the kitchen with practiced silence.
She wasn't doing it for recognition. She doubted he'd even say anything.
But there it was: a small tray left on the attic steps.
A steaming bowl of stew. Still warm. Carefully seasoned. Paired with a clean cloth and a freshly baked roll.
No note.
No explanation.
She could've brought it to him directly. But somehow, this felt more... appropriate.
He didn't like to be thanked, not directly. She could tell.
But still, he deserved to be taken care of, even if he wouldn't admit it.
So she turned, soft footsteps fading back down the stairs, leaving behind only the quiet scent of comfort.
Up in the attic, long after the tray was placed, a single blue eye flickered open.
Sans stared at the tray for a while.
Didn't smile.
Didn't speak.
But the flames of his soul flickered a little warmer that night.
" Welp, tonight sure is good"