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Techno knew what happened to Ranboo. His pupil, his protégé was slaughtered right in front of him. He would never come back. Techno knew that. He knew it, and yet, it felt like he kept seeing the enderman hybrid everywhere he went.
Outside in the dark sequoia forest, in Phil’s base, in his closet. On his journey with Tubbo to save Micheal. Ranboo was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
But he heard Tubbo’s shocked gasp when he went to his home, to Micheal’s home. He heard the heated argument between him and another voice, who echoed within the wooden walls. And Techno heard Tubbo exclaim how the person he was talking to could never be the true Ranboo.
Ranboo was now a ghost.
The pigman half expected some sort of ghost Ranboo haunting his base when Phil was away hunting and Techno had visited Niki for some well deserved break and catch-up.
He hadn’t recognized him at first.
It was cold, with the wind whipping his face no matter which direction he faced it. His fur and cape weren’t enough to keep him warm, and he longed to pet Steve around a warm fireplace. The sun was setting, the last rays still shining over the trees’ canopy. It wasn’t completely dark when Techno climbed up to his front door.
Something moved through one of his tinted windows. Techno took a sharp breath, hand barely touching the doorknob. He sniffed the air twice, not detecting any familiar enemy scent, only that of Steve and Edward, the enderman that still hadn’t left his house.
A glint of gold caught his eyes through the window, and his mind started spiralling with scenarios and “what if”s and mostly panicked that he could not recognize any scent that weren’t those of his pets and Phil’s lingering one.
He carefully turned the doorknob, ears in alert of any unusual sounds, making his footsteps light against the wood and wool of his flooring. He slowly grabbed his axe from his inventory.
The gold reflection blinded him momentarily before truly seeing who had entered his house.
The person was unrecognisable, except for that eerily crown. A shawl draped his shoulders, hovering over a bookshelf. The one that contained Techno’s copy of “The Art of War”. Black covered the rest of the body, no clear indication if it was pieces of clothing or just part of the person’s skin. The crown was an impeccable gold, garnished with dull rubies and emerald, coated with grim and dust.
Techno had a strange sense of déjà vu, where Ranboo, who had the same crown, with the same head shape, hovered over his bookshelf and asked the pigman about his book collection. There was awed behind his voice, and Techno had to hide his smile when he told his pupil he could read all of his collection, shrugging it off.
But Ranboo had looked at him as if he had offered the world.
Instead, the person turned around, blank, bleary eyes staring right through Techno’s soul, as if he had breathed too loudly for this stranger. That was when Techno saw the large gaping wound on the stranger's chest.
Half green, half red, staining his cloak with splatters of what appeared to be blood. It had stopped bleeding, but it was a forever reminder of what had occurred to that person, the wound never closing, only twitching in the exposed air.
What shook deep within Techno’s core, though, was the face. Despite no longer vibrant and full-of-life, those were Ranboo’s eyes. Despite no nervous energy radiating from the person, Techno couldn’t help but see Ranboo in the face, with the exact same tilt of the head, the exact same height, the exact same reservedness Ranboo had.
But it didn’t feel like Ranboo at all.
“Who are you?” Techno asked, trying to not sound demanding.
The stranger flickered for a moment, and Techno knew he was in trouble. Phil would not be back for another fifteen minutes. The pigman didn’t know if he could stall this enough for his companion to be back.
“I’m Boo,” the stranger held out his hand.
Techno didn’t shake it. He frowned at Boo.
“What are you doing in my house? You know that’s called trespassing.”
Boo shrugged. “I was curious. Micheal talked a lot about you, and I wanted to check out who the Great Technoblade was.”
Techno put his axe in his inventory and crossed his arms. “Well, here I am. Now, can you leave?”
Boo’s eyes widened, as if not being used to be talked that way. He glanced back at the bookshelf.
“I’ve read all of these books, once.”
Techno didn’t comment on it. He never liked ghosts, and despite this one being Ranboo’s ghost, he doubted his opinion about them would ever change, even for his pupil.
“Your favourite one was ‘The Art of War’?”
“ Is ,” Techno corrected. “It’s the best literature ever written.”
Boo hummed. And it was messing with Techno’s mind. Boo looked like Ranboo, seemed to remember what happened in his lifetime, but didn’t act like Ranboo. It all looked so wrong .
“I think ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’ is the best literature, and Micheal would agree with me on this.”
Techno let out a laugh. “Micheal hasn’t been exposed to true art, yet.”
If Boo could smirk, he would be right now. “Micheal is a smart kid, he only has refine tastes.”
Techno leaned against the doorframe. Boo approached him, and the pigman stepped back, giving the ghost space to open the door.
“You’re not as intimidating as Tubbo makes it out to be.”
Techno quirked an eyebrow and pulled out his axe.
“That’s not very intimidating to you?”
Boo laughed. “I remember you being impressed with Ranboo. Which I still don’t understand how you can be impressed with that piece of crap, he was way too anxious to be truly prepared for this world.”
Boo scoffed, and Techno slowly frowned. He looked like Ranboo, sounded like Ranboo. But everything felt off .
It made Techno uneasy.
Boo saluted him with these parting words and closed the door behind him, leaving a befuddled Technoblade to ponder.
Boo would never be Ranboo. Ranboo had died, he saw it with his own eyes. Boo hated Ranboo, Boo didn’t give off that nervous energy Techno had grown attached to with Ranboo. Boo had those same curious eyes, but dulled and bleary with death.
Techno huffed. He never liked ghosts.