Your name is DIRK STRIDER. Your life is fairly average with the exception of a brother who seems to constantly be moving. There was no possible way for him to physically sit still unless he absolutely had to. He was always up and doing something. The sound of his feet on the floor was like a lullaby when you were younger. You always knew he was there if you needed him to come in and look in the closet for something silly like monsters. What, kids can have fears it’s not entirely impossible is it? But now you’re 15 years old and things are a little different.
But your brother remains in motion.
If there’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s that he’s an unstoppable force when put into motion.
You’re standing on the rooftop, sword in hand. He’s facing you, those stupid shades always covering his eyes. Who thought it was a good idea to give him a pair of aviators anyways. Whoever did was an asshole.
You assume the position, sword ready. He does the same. Halfbladekind is such an impractical strife specibus too, but he still never fails to beat your ass into the rooftops of Houston. Sometimes you hate him, your brother, Dave Strider. Movie entrepreneur, grade A fucking asshole. You grip your sword tightly in your hands.
The next thing you learned is that continuous momentum is the only way that you could possibly stand a chance.
The first rule of strife club is you don’t talk about strife club.
The second rule is you still don’t fucking talk about strife club.
You lunge towards him, the clash of steel ringing in the air as he steps around you almost effortlessly. He doesn’t even need to deflect you. He’s such an unpredictable person. Despite his movements being almost fluid you just don’t know his tells or anything and the next strike is almost a surprise.
Nearly, almost. You’re getting better at this Dirk.
His voice rings in your eyes. It’s there and not all at once. You do a double take as you recover from being hit in the back by the hilt of his blade.
You look left and right, it occurs to you to look up as well. The only thing above you is a flock of crows squawking in an annoyed manner.
Your bro never tells you anything from when he was a kid. The only thing you actually know is that for the longest time you guys lived a shitty life and he tried to fix that. It’s not that he didn’t love you or anything. Although there were times when you just weren’t entirely sure what he thought to begin with. But it always felt like there was something more that you could never describe.
Something hitting the ground behind you breaks you from your thoughts. You turn around, of course lo and behold the man of the hour himself is standing behind you. Face obscured by his shades much like yours is by your own. He thrusts his arm out, holding the broken blade towards your neck.
You’re not focusing. He’s blunt, as usual.
“Neither are you.” You attempt to retort, but it’s just shitty because your mind is entirely elsewhere.
That was a shitty come back, did your memory reserves short circuit or something. He’s not sparing anything at this point.
You clench your fists at your side. What do you even say to that, you’re at a loss for words and just torn away from him. Your back is towards him. Weakness. That’s what you’re doing you’re being weak. Guy can’t get any peace and quiet around here. There’s a clattering of metal meeting the rooftop. You still don’t turn around. It wasn’t you who dropped anything which is the weird thing. Arms are encircling your body and you can feel another warm body up against yours.
It’s okay. It’s my turn now.
You don’t even understand what he’s trying to tell you. There it is. That thing again. That thing you just can’t put your finger on. It’s like he’s an old soul and he’s been reunited with someone in the past, but you don’t feel that way. You just don’t understand why he does these things. Maybe it’s to keep you on your toes.
Wow you just really don’t fucking know.
Something hot is streaming down your cheeks. What. You didn’t start crying, you don’t remember even feeling it start.
He holds you closer. Silent.
He’s the hero of this story. Not you.
Your bro is a hero, jake is a hero, you aren’t.