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Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category:
F/M
Fandoms:
BlazBlue Series (Video Games)Re:ゼロから始める異世界生活 | Re:Zero Starting Life in Another World (Anime)
Relationships:
Ragna the Bloodedge (BlazBlue) & Natsuki SubaruNatsuki Subaru/RemEmilia/Natsuki Subaru
Characters:
Ragna the Bloodedge (BlazBlue)Natsuki SubaruEmilia (Re:Zero)Elsa GranhiertWilhelm van AstreaCrusch KarstenPriscilla BarielleFelt (Re:Zero)Anastasia HoshinMimi PearlbatonRem (Re:Zero)Ram (Re:Zero)Roswaal L MathersMeili PortrouteCapella Emerada LugnicaOtto Suwen
Additional Tags:
Game: BlazBlue: Central FictionPost-Game(s)Alternate UniverseCross-Posted on FanFiction.NetIsekai and TransmigrationCrossoverCanon-Typical Violence
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:2025-05-08Updated:2026-07-29Words:159,533Chapters:34/?Comments:308Kudos:523Bookmarks:111Hits:32,887
Re:Azure
Genthar
Summary:
Ragna the Bloodedge didn't know what he expected when he found himself in another world. Half elf? Clueless kid in a tracksuit? Nope. Not his problem. He tried his best to stay out of trouble, but it's only a matter of time before his abysmal luck decided to screw him over. (Post Central Fiction Ragna in Re:Zero)
Arc 1: "The Beginning of the Star/The End of the Grim Reaper" - Chapter 1-5
Arc 2: "Violent Growth/Identity Search" - Chapter 6-21
Chapter 1: Lost Reaper
Notes:
I'm making this based on Ragna's POV, kinda. So it's not gonna be following Subaru all the time.
Warning: This is post BlazBlue Central Fiction, so if you don't want spoiler about the ending, avoid this story.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The alley was dark. Not pitch-black, but shadowed enough that the sun above felt like a rumor rather than a presence. It stank too, of dirt, mold, and something vaguely metallic. Blood, maybe.
Ragna the Bloodedge stirred. Slowly opening his eyes. His red jacket, now worn at the edges, rustled as he pushed himself up with a groan. Dust fell from his white hair. A familiar blade rested beside him.
"...Huh," his voice cracked. The sound echoed softly against the stone walls. "I'm... alive?" he looked down at his hands, trying to get a feel for them... nothing feel unusual. His black hakama was still in place, dusty as hell but intact. "I look like crap," he muttered as he dusted himself off.
His prized sword, Aramasa lay beside him, worn down after all the hell it went through. He ran a gloved hand down the flat of the blade. "You look like crap too," he muttered to the sword. His expression twitched, a mixture of disbelief and mild irritation.
"Didn't I leave you behind, Aramasa? Didn't I vanish?" he had erased himself, from the world, from everyone's memory, and from history itself. He did that for a world that hated him. People called him the Grim Reaper, the SS-class criminal, and more. He carried it all. And in the end, he let go of everything, so they could move on without him. And yet... Here he was.
His boots echoed on the cobblestone floor as he stepped out of the alley. The first thing he noticed was the noise. People talking, bartering, laughing. The second thing was the architecture. Simple stone, wood, and plaster. No electronics around, and no sign of modern architecture in sight.
"...This isn't Kagutsuchi," he muttered, looking around. Not Kagutsuchi, or any of the Hierarchical City for that matter.
He walked forward, slow, measured steps, eyes scanning everything. The streets were bustling, but not crowded. Cobblestones underfoot, cloth canopies stretched over fruit stalls, the air smelled of spices and something frying in oil. And people, a lot of them. Human, mostly, but not entirely. He stopped when he saw a girl with cat ears walking past him. "A Demi-human..." he muttered. So they exist here too, wherever "here" is supposed to be.
But a moment later, a massive figure lumbered past, a humanoid beast, six feet tall, covered in fur with claws for fingers. It didn't even glance at him. "...A Beastkin?" He finds it hard to hide his surprise. He frowned. "Master was supposed to be the last... Where the hell am I?" now he's really curious about his whereabout.
His master, Jubei, is the last known Beastkin alive. Most of their kind died during the Dark War against the Black Beast. The closest thing to a full Beastkin left is the Kaka clan, and Kokonoe, Jubei's perpetually grumpy daughter.
Where Ragna came from, most people didn't bother distinguishing between Demi-humans and Beastkin. To them, it was all the same, just animals in human form. In fact, "Demi-human" and "Beastkin" were often used interchangeably. But Ragna knew better. He respected his master too much to lump them together like that. So he made a point to call them by their proper names.
He moved through the crowd, staying close to the buildings. This place was colorful, loud, and lived-in. People wore robes and tunics, dresses and cloaks. Outfits out of a history book. Not a single sign of modern tech. Aramasa thudded gently against his waist with every step.
No Seithr in the air. No NOL agents. No wanted posters featuring a badly drawn version of his face. No one gave him a second glance, even though he was walking out in the open in broad daylight. He was starting to accept that he wasn't in familiar territory anymore.
Speaking of Seithr. He could still move his right arm and use his right eye, even with his busted Idea Engine and no Seithr around. The air feels a bit unusual here, less... hostile. So whatever filled the atmosphere here must've been close enough to seithr to keep his body functioning. Thank god for that, he wasn't a fan of losing half of his vision and upper limb.
He kept on walking. His hand hovered near Aramasa's hilt out of habit, instinct. But no one recognized him, or cared. "Guess I really am gone, huh?" he muttered. Either people here doesn't recognize him because he already erased himself from existence, or he got sent to somewhere far away, far enough that the infamous Grim Reaper is an unknown. Neither options sounded good.
He rummaged his pocket. Inside were a few crumpled Platinum Dollars. He grimaced. No way those were going to work here, he saw people around trading with coins with unfamiliar design and names. He shoved the currency back into his coat pocket. No use for them now. Just a reminder of the world he left behind.
He paused near a fruit stand. Bright red fruit with a waxy skin stacked in neat piles. The merchant shouted out prices in a language that he understood. Good, that means he's not gonna have trouble communicating here. Ragna was about to move on. He doesn't have money, so no point in getting into a fight over an apple he couldn't pay for.
Then he saw him. A boy, maybe in his late teens, with mean looking eyes, dark hair, and a slightly above-average build. The boy looked completely out of place in this medieval town, and not just because of the black, orange and gray tracksuit-sneakers combo he wore. Ragna narrowed his eyes.
The boy were inspecting the fruit and the sign on the stand with great curiosity. "I can't read this..." he muttered thoughtfully.
From afar, Ragna heard the boy's muttering and glanced at what the boy is trying to read. He can't read it either. Now that's a problem.
"Those are some weird clothes you're traveling in boy," the gruff looking merchant sitting on a stool beside the stand commented.
The boy ignored the remark. "What are these?" he asked, pointing at the red fruit on display.
The merchant raised an eyebrow at the unusual question, but answered anyway. "These are appas."
"So they can understand me, huh?" the boy murmured to himself, lowering his voice.
"Well? Are you gonna buy the appa, boy?" the merchant asked, holding one in his hand.
Taking a few coins from his wallet, the boy placed them into the merchant's open palm.
"You can't use that stuff in Lugunica. That means you're flat broke, huh? Get outta here then! Don't interfere with my business!" The man snapped, throwing the coins at the boy's face. The boy picked up his coins and walked away, a bit disheartened.
"Rude bastard," Ragna muttered, shaking his head. He was mildly annoyed, but didn't step in. Honestly, it wasn't his business. Still, he'd picked up some useful info from that little drama.
First, this place was called Lugunica. Whether it was the name of the town or the whole nation, he wasn't sure, but it was definitely somewhere unfamiliar. Second, just as he'd suspected, his Platinum Dollars were worthless here. The boy had used coins different from the locals', and still got hard rejected. And third, apparently those red fruits were called appas. Either they were just apples with weird names, or something else entirely. Probably worth finding out, he didn't want to sound like an idiot asking for ingredients with the wrong name.
Putting all of that aside. That boy from earlier, his clothes didn't look local. And he was clueless as hell. "I'm no different though," Ragna chuckled softly. He somehow met someone in the same situation as him a few minutes after waking up here. What were the odds? Still, it didn't matter. Once again, not his business. The boy wasn't some lost kid, he could take care of himself. Probably.
Ragna continued wandering, taking in the sights and making mental notes of places that might be important for a traveler like him, like the market, and what he assumed was an inn.
Half an hour passed. Ragna was walking through a quieter part of town when he saw a peculiar sight. There was that boy again, the one wearing the tracksuit. This time striking a dramatic pose, one finger aimed at the sky like he thought he was a hero in some kids' show. He stood before a girl in a white dress. Her hair shimmered silver-white, and pointed ears peeked out from beneath her locks. That probably means that she's an elf. He'd seen one in an old storybook once. 'So they're real around here...'
"My name is Natsuki Subaru. Not only am I clueless, I'm also broke beyond compare! Nice to meet you!" the boy declared proudly, still in that ridiculous pose.
'Nice sales pitch,' Ragna thought sarcastically. Watching them from a good distance away.
Accompanying the elf is a small, floating gray cat. It could talk too, conversing casually with the boy. Ragna wasn't surprised at all. 'Talking cats are honestly nothing new in my life,' Ragna mused, being reminded of his master and the Kaka clan, especially Tao. As he got lost in thought, he heard the elf asking the boy where he came from.
"Well, following the usual pattern, a small island nation to the east," The boy confidently answered.
The elf girl look confused. "Lugunica is the easternmost nation on our continental map. There is no island nation to the east."
The boy seems surprised. "No way, really? there's nothing east of here?"
Ragna sighed in exasperation at the boy's antics. He started walking away, reminding himself that this was none of his business. That boy is a good source of information, sure. What's with him being clueless and all, but Ragna doesn't know if his patience can tolerate that boy for long. "Let the loud idiot make a fool of himself. I've got my own problems."
The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky now, painting the stone buildings in a warmer glow. Ragna sat on the edge of a quiet fountain in a side street, resting his elbows on his knees. Aramasa leaned against the stone beside him.
He stared into the fountain water. "...I disappeared. I know I did. I erased everything. Myself, everyone's memories, and any trace of me. So how the hell am I still here?" he questioned, wondering if all of this was just a dream. He looked at his reflection. White hair. Green and red eyes. Same stupid-looking face as always. "Still me..." but no one else knew him. Not a single face in this place looked at him with fear. No bounty hunters, no gasping civilians, no NOL soldiers chasing him. Nothing. Just... him.
He reached over and ran a hand across Aramasa's hilt. His fingers tightened. "You're still with me. That's enough for now," his stomach suddenly growled, loudly. He let out a sigh. "Great, the universe drops me in a new world, and doesn't even give me a snack," he stood up, slinging the sword back over his waist. "Alright, let's figure out how to survive here first. Answers can wait. Food can't."
Ragna didn't mind being homeless. He'd long stopped thinking of "home" as a place with a roof and walls. Back in his world, home was wherever he decided to set up camp for the day. From one Hierarchical City to the next, destroying Cauldrons, running from the NOL, dodging bounty hunters. He slept where he could: under broken rooftops, inside abandoned train cars, on top of the forest trees. He'd be fine with any place as long as no idiots were picking a fight with him
He hunted his own meat, fished his own fish, foraged for all sort edible ingredients, and cooked it all over open flames. Camping wasn't a last resort. It was life. Still, it didn't mean it wasn't a hassle.
He grumbled to himself, hands in his jacket pockets as he wandered off the main street. The richer parts of this city, Lugunica, as he'd overheard, weren't his kind of place anyway. Clean stone roads, overly polite guards, and a general sense that people like him weren't welcome. So he followed the smell of sewage, smoke, and rust.
The slums. Here, the buildings leaned on each other like tired drunkards. Walls made from uneven stone and rotting wood. Roofs patched with whatever people could get their hands on. No matter the world, it seems poverty is a constant. Yet even in poverty, they had more than him. At least they had a roof and walls. "...No point in complaining about it," he muttered.
He pushed forward, stepping over a puddle of something he didn't want to identify. His boots made a squelch sound. He didn't wince. He'd walked through worse. That's when he saw it. A small, winding river cutting through the edge of the slums. Not much. Barely ten feet wide, with reeds sprouting at the edges and water that looked surprisingly clear, considering the state of this place. In short, It was his lunch ticket.
He blinked. Then gave a small, dry laugh. "Well, I'll be damned..." he crouched at the bank, running a hand through the water. Cold, but not oily or too polluted. Still had movement. If there was current, maybe there were fish. His stomach growled in agreement. "Alright, let's get to work."
He stood and scanned the area. No one nearby except a few beggars huddled under cloth-covered boxes. Most people avoided the river. Probably smelled too bad to them. The water looked fine enough, but the area around it didn't smell great for some reason. Ragna didn't know why, nor did he care.
Step one: bait. He walked up the bank, searching the softer soil near the reeds. Turned a rock over. Then another. "...Come on, where are you little bastards?" finally, he found one. A fat white grub wriggling near the roots of a plant. He grinned. "Gotcha," he plucked it up, careful not to crush it, then gathered a few more, tossing them into a torn scrap of cloth he found half-buried nearby. Not ideal, but it'd do.
Step two: a rod. There were enough dead branches and discarded wood around. Took him a few tries to find one that wasn't dry-rotted or brittle. After a short walk and some light cursing, he settled on a sturdy branch about the length of his arm and just thick enough to hold steady.
Step three: line. That's the hardest part. He dug around in discarded crates, old sacks, and whatever junk he could find. Plant fibers were the fallback, he stripped them from the edge of a torn burlap bag and twisted them tight, again and again, until he had a few feet of something close to string. "Not perfect," he said, threading the makeshift line through a split notch he cut at the tip of the branch with Aramasa's edge. "But it'll hold... maybe."
He bent down and tied one of the grubs to the line. No proper hook, so he ran a small sliver of scrap metal through the bait like a spike. It wasn't elegant, it wasn't clean, but it was enough.
He sat down on a chunk of broken stone near the riverbank and cast the line. The bait plopped into the water with a ripple. Then... silence. Ragna let out a slow breath and leaned back, Aramasa resting against another nearby rock. Now he just needed to wait, aka the boring part. He needs a way to pass the time. "...You ever think we'd end up here?" he asked the sword. The blade didn't answer. Of course it didn't.
"After everything... Terumi, Izanami, and the problem with the Master Unit. I was ready to stop existing. I wanted to stop existing. Thought I'd earned it," he watched the water, eyes half-lidded. "Instead, I'm here. No one knows me. No one wants me dead. I should feel relieved, right? But..." he shook his head. "I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do now."
The line suddenly twitched. Ragna's instincts kicked in. He waited a beat, then yanked the branch back. Water splashed, and a fish. Silver, small, but still meat, flopped onto the stone with a wet slap. He blinked, surprised. "...Well. That actually worked." He doesn't recognize the fish, its fins longer and more vibrant than any fish he'd seen back home, which make sense. This is another world after all, no way he'd recognize all the species here.
This fish could be poisonous, but he doesn't care. Nothing ventured nothing gained, as they say. Ragna was the type of idiot who learned things the hard way, like that time he almost screwed himself over after overusing the Azure. He banished the hesitation, and then got to work. Carefully, he cleaned the fish with a piece of sharp flint he picked up earlier, his movements precise and practiced.
Thirty minutes passed. He caught two more of the same fish. Not much, but enough for a meal. He skewered them on some sticks he found nearby, built a small fire pit using broken bricks, dry reeds served as kindling, and struck the flint to spark it to life. The fire flickered. Warmed his hands. It wasn't long before the scent of sizzling fish filled the air, a familiar comfort in an otherwise unfamiliar place. Ragna sat there, legs crossed, staring into the fire. It almost felt... normal.
He took the first bite. The meat was flaky, a little earthy, but definitely edible. That, or it had a slow acting poison. "Still got it," he muttered with a smirk, satisfied with the catch. For now, he'd call this specific fish "Silverfin" for easy reference, at least until he learn the real name from the local.
A quiet shuffle nearby made him glance up. A young girl, maybe around eight years old, watched from a few feet away. Bare feet, ragged clothes, wide eyes. Probably an orphan. She stared at the fish like it was a royal feast, clearly starving. Ragna sighed. He tore a chunk off one fish and held it out. "Here."
She hesitated. Then ran forward, grabbed the food, and bolted without a word.
Ragna shook his head. "Kids these days," he could admit he was a jackass sometimes, but he wasn't heartless. Giving the kid some of his catch wasn't a big loss. He knew how hard it was to grow up without parents, he could sympathize.
He leaned back again, the fire crackling in front of him. Dusk was slowly approaching, but Ragna didn't feel like doing anything just yet. Camping here didn't seem so bad. The river beside him flowed gently, its surface clear and reflective. It wasn't wide, but it stretched far, winding through the slum and city like a snake. Off in the distance, the silhouette of a small wooden bridge stood out.
That's when he saw them again, the tracksuit boy and the silver-haired elf from before. They're crossing over the wooden bridge. They both stopped at the bridge, talked about something he couldn't hear. The elf girl closed her eyes and chanted something, her body glowing with bright blue light. A soft luminescence appeared near the bridge, small orbs of light, floating and drifting lazily through the air like dandelion seeds caught in a breeze. They shimmered blue, faintly pulsing, their glow enough to wash the orange sky in cool azure.
Ragna squinted. "...What the hell?" he could see that tracksuit boy, Subaru was it? Looking mesmerized by the sight, his mouth agape like a dumbass. The elf said something, her voice soft, melodic like a silver-bell, though the words didn't carry far enough for Ragna to catch them. She raised a hand, and one of the glowing lights drifted closer to her, hovering just above her palm. She talked to it, and it flickered a few times as if answering her. Then it vanished, like smoke in the wind. The other orbs followed, disappearing just as suddenly as they had come.
Ragna leaned forward. "Okay... definitely not fireflies," he muttered. The duo in the distance crossed the bridge, continuing forward, unaware that Ragna was observing them from afar. "...That's the third time I've seen that guy today," he muttered, leaning back. "What's with all the coincidences?"
Anyway, that was magic, wasn't it? It certainly seems magical. This confirmed that magic is also real here. Back home, Ars Magus was how people used "magic", a fusion of science and the mystical. The magic used around here is probably closer to what Nine wielded: pure magic, untamed and destructive.
It was kind of fascinating, a completely different magic system than what he was used to. Was magic rare around here? Could just anyone learn it? Could a dumbass like him use it? He's a bit curious, but those were questions for another time. No need to rush looking for the answers. Tomorrow, he'd start asking around. Not too much. Not too direct. Just enough to learn the names of things, what they called magic here, whether there were schools for it, who used it, what the laws were.
The fire had gone out some time ago, leaving only embers and a ring of ash beside the riverbank. The night wind had grown colder, but Ragna barely noticed it. His red coat shielded most of the chill. Once you got used to Yukianesa's bone chilling attacks, this kind of cold didn't register anymore. Plus, Ragna's mind is currently elsewhere.
Aramasa lay across his lap, the blade catching faint moonlight as he tilted it slightly, studying every scratch, every fracture along its edge. He sighed. "I don't even know what the hell you're made of," he muttered, brushing a thumb along a shallow nick on the side. "You never broke before. Not once."
And that was true. The sword had clashed with Nox Nyctores-grade weapons. It had split through Cauldrons, dented Murakumo units, and struck down beings that defied logic. Only when he fought Susano'o, when he pushed everything to the limit, did Aramasa finally give out. The blade wasn't shattered, but it wasn't whole either. Chipped at the edge. A jagged fracture near the handle. The damage made it feel off in his hands, like an extension of himself that suddenly didn't respond the way it used to.
He turned it slowly, watching how the light danced across its surface. "I was never one for fixing things," he said to the blade. "Only breaking them," he leaned back against the stone and stared at the stars.
Blacksmithing wasn't his forte. Hell, building anything wasn't. All he ever did was destroy. Cauldrons, structures, systems, even people. Trained his whole damn life to exact his revenge. Then when he finally let that go... Now what? "I've got nothing," he admitted to the night. "No enemies, no allies, no famly," he tapped the edge of Aramasa lightly with a knuckle. "All I got left is you."
A purpose, that was what he needed now. And maybe fixing this sword, figuring out what it was and how to repair it, could be that. Something to keep him from going insane with all this empty time. He had too much of it now, free time. Unstructured and directionless. Not something Ragna was used to. His entire life had been train, fight, survive, repeat. That rhythm had been comforting in a twisted way. Now he sat beside a dying fire in a world that didn't know him, staring at a broken sword like it could give him answers. Not having a hobby was starting to take its toll.
Cooking was maybe the only other thing he'd cared about. Survival skill at first, sure, but it turned into something more. A quiet pride in knowing how to roast meat just right, how to use simple ingredients to make something warm and good. His master had taught him all about it. As usual, half training and half torture. But in that pain, something useful had taken root. Cooking was a very useful hobby to have. People could live without sports or music, but not without food. And cooking was a way to turn something basic into something worth remembering. Still, even if he could cook... he couldn't exactly open a food stall with no ingredients. And besides, who'd trust food made by a guy with a permanent scowl and a short temper like him?
'One thing at a time', he told himself. Fix the sword. Figure out the rest after. As he pondered all of this, something strange happened. He blinked once, and the world changed. The cold of night was gone. Warmth filled the air. A soft breeze brushed against his coat, carrying the scent of fresh bread and... fruits? He opened his eyes fully, and froze.
"...The hell?" he was no longer by the river. He was suddenly standing... standing in the middle of the bustling city marketplace again. People bustled past, merchants shouted their wares, and cloth canopies fluttered in the wind. The light told him it was morning.
"Someone teleported me here...? No, that doesn't explain why it's suddenly morning," outwardly, Ragna seemed calm. He was trying very hard not to cause a scene. But inside, his mind was working in overdrive to figure out what the hell just happened.
But then he saw it. That tracksuit boy again, standing in front of the same appa stand as last time. The gruff merchant was holding an appa in his hand. "Well? Are you gonna buy the appa, boy?" it's the exact same pose, the exact same tone, and the exact same question as last time.
"No... not again...!" Ragna gritted his teeth. He thought he was done with this kind of shit. He knows exactly what this was.
A fucking time loop.
Notes:
I'm gonna apologize in advance for any BlazBlue lore inaccuracy. Been a while since I played the story.
I'll see you next time.
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