Rangers Endgame

Chapter 142: One Night

Chin tucked as the winter air smothered his face, Yakeru walked down the road, no destination in mind. The blizzard still rampaged around the border as he grew accustomed to the sensory discrepancy between the howling winds in his ears and the calm air against his skin.

He figured the artifact responsible must have been a powerful one. Curiosity sparked, but he knew that the only device keeping the frost vestiges away would be inaccessible to outsiders.

Villagers stole glances as he passed, kids pointing at the ranger who’d brought forth a shockwave upon arrival. Rounding a corner to evade attention, he nearly bumped into someone.

A startled intake of breath. Then a laugh, light and familiar.

“You sure like to make sudden appearances,” Risa said playfully, adjusting her hold on a small paper bag.

He stepped back, returning to a respectable distance. “Sorry.”

Something flickered behind her makeup when he did. “I’m just teasing. Actually, while I have you,” she lifted an identical skewered fruit he'd seen in the tavern. “You should grab one while you still can. There's a stand down the street.”

“Oh, okay. I'll take a look. Thanks.” He walked around her but stopped when he felt the soft tug on the back of his coat. He glanced back. “What is it?”

“Just curious. How did you know about the frost vestiges’ vulnerability?”

“I didn’t. Just an educated guess based on observation.”

“Capable and sharp. My party could use some of that,” she implied, brushing blonde locks from her smile. “If you’re interested.”

He turned to remove her hand gently, his voice steady. “I have a party of my own.”

A breath ghosted from her nose, half amused, half resigned. “Yes. Fuyumi and those other two at the guild.”

For a moment, she said nothing, then shrugged lightly. “I suppose we'll have to make the most of this mission, won't we?”

Yakeru turned again and started walking. “I'll see you tomorrow, Risa.”

He continued down the road, walking past a dog catching snowballs from a giggling kid, past doorways spilling chatter.

At another end of the village, a small stand had drawn a loose crowd of children. A middle-aged man stood behind it, pressing skewered violet fruit into eager hands for a silver coin. Many kids submerged their fruits in the snow in a nearby clearing of sculpted snowmen and forts. When they pulled them out, they appeared to have more life to them.

He waited in the chaotic queue, a silver coin prepared, until finally reaching the stand.

The man looked him over, his warm grin contrasting with the elements. “Welcome. You’re the ranger who made quite the entrance on arrival, yes?”

“Word travels fast.” Yakeru set the coin before him. “Sorry, by the way.”

“It’s a small village.” He traded two skewers for it. “And no worries, just as long as you all got here safely.”

Yakeru cocked a brow at the two. “Doesn’t one cost one silver?”

“I haven’t seen your silver-haired friend around. I figured she’d like to try Marrow Village’s specialty. Consider it a ranger discount.”

Yakeru hesitated, but eventually accepted. “Much appreciated.”

“Enjoy your stay.”

The ranger made his way down the road while inspecting the fruit, though he wasn’t particularly interested.

Another corner brought him to the boundary marked by the gate surrounding the village. The air tremored with violent winds in his right ear, the hum of conversation and evening activity caressing his left. The hairs on his neck lifted, his instincts warning him of the eyes tracking him through the white, but he kept a casual pace while nodding to passing patrols.

It wasn't long before he spotted a figure sitting on a jutting rock in the distance, staring deep into the screaming white void. He approached, the flick of her eyes the only acknowledgement he got. Even as he stood beside her, she never budged, snow gathering on her shoulders and in loose strands of her hair.

Brow raised with genuine concern, he questioned, “What… are you doing?”

“Bloodhounds won't hesitate to attack villages,” Fuyumi curtly explained.

“The chief reported no sightings near the village. The mission report is fairly up to date as well,” he responded.

“Better not to give those savages any leeway.”

He sighed and took a seat beside her. That sounded like her—half caution, half stubbornness disguised as wisdom. He almost accused her of being callous, but stopped himself before giving insensitivity a voice.

“So why this spot?” he wondered, glancing around to find the reason.

“It’s the most vulnerable part of the village based on the guards’ patrol routes,” she concluded, shifting to give him more room.

He tilted his head. “We’ve only been here for a few hours…”

No response. Her hand remained on her dagger, eyes forward.

He followed her gaze into the static void. “What did you have to eat?”

She leaned forward, focused. “Not hungry.”

As if on cue, a squirming rumble sounded from her midsection. She angled her face away.

Yakeru shook his head and offered a skewer. “Your tough facade crumbles from an empty stomach, of all things.”

“Shut up.” She gave it a glance, but made no move to take it. “I said I’m fine.”

“Mhm.” He waited, unconvinced.

She glanced again, lingering just enough to make it look like hesitation. Then she sighed through her nose, feigning annoyance, and snatched it to keep up appearances. She turned it this way and that, unimpressed.

As she was about to take a nibble, she saw Yakeru lean down to fresh powder.

“What are you doing?” She wondered.

“Saw some kids do it. Maybe they were on to something,” he figured, submerging the fruit in the white fluff.

Fuyumi looked at her fruit, back at his, and followed his example. She rolled hers beside his, unsure when to stop.

They stayed like that, their frosted breaths puffing with each exhale. Then, the snow making contact with their fruit dissolved into them. Their dull purple surface inflated into a gentle violet sheen, shimmering beautifully with an accumulating coat of soft crystal.

Yakeru brought it up to take a bite, not expecting much. The white fuzz melted on his tongue, releasing a cold, sugary taste that bloomed in his mouth.

He nodded, quietly wowed. “Not bad.”

She did the same, testing, and her expression shifted—not dramatically, just a small widening of the eyes. But she didn’t voice her obvious contentment. Another bite, more deliberately this time.

Wordless seconds passed as they just enjoyed their treat. The storm rattled the gate, as if trying to breach the iron foundation, a stark contrast to the calm that whispered between the two rangers. He nodded to a patrol unit finally coming to scan this section of the village. It seemed she was right.

They finished their food.

“You should get some rest,” he said at last.

“No.” The single word carried the weight of vindictive responsibility. "Lookout takes precedence… not like I can sleep, anyway.”

“Not like you can stay up either,” he countered.

“I will.”

“You won’t,” he replied, certain. “You’ll stay until you’re exhausted, pretend you’re not, and then make worse decisions when we need you the most.”

Her silence was answer enough.

He tossed his skewer into a nearby trash bin. He stood to his feet and dusted off the powder that had accumulated.

With a last expectant look from him, she said, “Just a few more minutes, then.”

“Goodnight.” He walked off.

FUYUMI:

As Yakeru disappeared around a corner, her eyes fell on the empty skewer still in her hand. A groan leaked through her teeth before she could stop it, mind wandering to more food-related thoughts. Her attention returned to the void before, its sharp scream replacing the warmth she felt a moment ago.

The moon’s pale light failed to reach the village, but the torches behind her made up for it, flicking orange across the wall of white. Her gaze got lost in its violent whirl for several minutes, searching past the dozens of eyes she felt on her just on the edge of her vision.

Despite the protests of her conviction, she kept her promise and stood to make her way back to the tavern. Blissful heat from the crackling hearth welcomed her upon entering. Fortunately, there were fewer patrons when she arrived. She threw out her skewer and picked up a light meal from the food bar. Stomach thanking her, she crossed the lobby towards her room, eyes jumping to Yakeru’s door for a beat.

When she unlocked hers and stepped inside, Risa was already there, inspecting her bare face in the mirror.

“Welcome back,” she chimed.

Nothing.

Fuyumi moved to her side of the room and began setting her daggers aside. An azure flower charm lay silently on the nightstand between beds, twinkling as she moved to her side. She hung up her coat as Risa finished with the mirror and started organizing her accessories.

She held up two pairs of earrings. “For tomorrow’s hunt: bold or classy?”

Fuyumi shot her a blatant, disinterested look, then went back to removing her armor.

“I’m leaning towards classy to keep things fresh.” She closed an eye and angled the other pair out in front of her. “And I think you’d look killer in bold.”

Again, no response.

Fuyumi tuned her out, the azure flower charm sparkling in the corner of her eye catching another glance from her. It almost reminded her of violet dancers. Risa followed her gaze, and something softer flickered across her face.

“Cute, don’t you think?” she said. “My mother has always wanted to travel, but unfortunately, sickness has left her bedridden. So I make sure I bring back souvenirs,” she explained, the usual sweetness in her voice dimming—bare, but noticeable. She lifted her wrist, her thumb smoothing over her scratched bracelet with a delicate touch.

Though Fuyumi busied her hands by removing her chest plate, the conjurer's words nestled somewhere inside her.

Risa waved away the air before it grew too heavy. “Anyway, enough about me. I’m more interested in something else—someone else,” she hinted, a teasing note in her voice.

Fuyumi's hand stilled on a strap for a beat.

“Still nothing?” Risa went on, undeterred. “Yeah, Yakeru didn't have much to say either when we talked earlier.”

Something in Fuyumi cracked at the mention of his name on the conjurer’s glossy lips. There must've been a shift in her demeanor because Risa's smirk sharpened.

She crawled onto her mattress, chin resting atop her interlocked fingers, ankles crossed in the air. “So, are you going to spill the story between you two, or pretend like nothing’s going on?”

“That’s none of your business,” Fuyumi finally answered, though her words had less venom in them.

“Oh, don't be like that. It’s just us here. I’m only curious,” she de-escalated.

Silence again. Fuyumi undid her gauntlets and greaves.

Risa let it sit for a while before easing words into the quiet. “You two are close, aren’t you?”

‘Close,’ she echoed, testing the foreign word, comparing it with the mountain of adventures they had together.

When she didn’t confirm, Risa went on. “I can tell. Especially in the way he mentioned his party during our conversation. Very loyal, you know.”

Something in the way she said that last part insinuated a different context. Yet she infuriatingly left it unspoken.

“If you have something to say, say it,” Fuyumi challenged, tired of her dancing around her point.

Risa laughed heartily. “Relax, all I’m saying is that I won’t impede. Not like I can snag something from someone so territorial anyway.”

“I’m not territorial.”

Risa clicked her tongue in offense. “Please, you're not fooling me.” She turned away, her voice softening. “Still… I think it’s kind of nice.”

Fuyumi didn’t ask what she meant—simply slipped under the covers and turned off her lighting artifact. There was a light shuffle behind her, then the last light went out.

“Good night, Fuyumi.”