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“We should keep movin’.”
He said it once. Then twice. Thrice. Aran pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched his three companions ignore him—if they even heard him in the first place, that is.
Atsumu leaned far back against a felled tree—eyes closed in pure relaxation—plucking out a jaunty tune on the lute he’d found during a recent mission. He’d been eager to try out the new instrument as he was already quite proficient at lyre and flute. Unfortunately, while his lutework was acceptable, it was his singing bringing an ache to Aran’s ear. “Thou couldst have thy choice of men, but I could never love again. He is the only one for me, Jolene.”
Kneeled before the fire, Osamu stirred away at a cast-iron pot of something bubbling and smelling delicious. Perhaps Aran would be entranced by the scent, were it not for the fact that they had eaten an hour ago and Osamu’s questionable choice of utensil. Instead of a wooden spoon—they had dirtied their only one and no one seemed keen to wash it yet—he was using one of Suna’s arrows. He just had to hope it was one not coated in poison.
The arrow-owner in question was perched in a nearby tree, one of his many daggers in one palm and a sharpener in the other. Keen green gaze focused on the repetitive movement of the blade gliding over the stone. The occasional flick of his long ears was the only sign Suna was still present mentally—listening in on Atsumu’s crooning, the crackle of the fire, and Aran’s ignored suggestions.
Aran had enough.
He clapped his hands—loud enough to summon a flutter of wings and a screech of bird calls in the distance. The twins both startled, dropping the items they held and snapping their backs straight in attention. They both immediately slumped back down when they realized it wasn’t an attack. Suna didn’t even blink, face still disinterested.
“We should keep movin’.”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time. No need to get all dramatic.” Suna lifted his blade, eyes analyzing his handiwork. If it weren’t for his dedication to protecting his companions and the cause of justice and valor, Aran would fantasize strangling the drow.
“Right. And ya ignored me, why?” Aran rested his hands on his hips.
“I’m busy.” Suna finally met his eye as he slid the dagger back into its sheath. “And it’s not like it’s my fault we took this break.”
He had a point. Suna and other elves didn’t need to sleep in the same way that Aran and the twins needed to. The first time they saw him enter a trance, the twins went to draw something unsavory on his forehead only for those bright green eyes to immediately open and his long bony ringed fingers to grip their wrists. Aran swore he still had tinnitus from their shrieks.
If anyone was to blame, it was the twins and their devilish ability to get into trouble. When they’d discovered that their enemy last night was a massive ensorcelled spider, it’d been Atsumu’s idea to get close and try to charm her out of the spell put on her. As it turns out, mutant spiders aren’t a fan of ballads and she sunk her venomous fangs into Osamu’s thigh before Atsumu could finish the second verse.
While Suna mercilessly slaughtered the spider, Aran had to expend the rest of his energy healing Osamu.
“Fair enough,” Aran mumbled, watching Suna’s lips smirk in victory. “Miyas! It’s time to go!”
“Aran-kun,” Atsumu whined, emphasizing it with a strum of his clawed fingers over the lute strings. “I’m tryna get this chord down.”
“And I’m still cookin’!” Osamu experimentally touched his tongue to a food-covered arrow.
“Yeah, Kita-san can wait for us a lil longer.” Atsumu nodded. “Samu was bitten by a super venomous spider literally last night. Look at him. He’s gotta rest.”
Aran pinched his brow again. With his healing abilities and Suna’s knowledge of antivenom, they’d nipped that concern in the bud. Osamu looked fine—spritely, if anything—and his bandaged leg showed no sign of bleeding through the night.
As he opened his mouth to respond, a deep hoot echoed through the clearing. He turned, finding himself face to face with a horned owl. Much like the spider, its eyes swirled with a supernatural glow. They were being watched.
“We need to go,” Aran whispered before repeating himself loudly. “Now.”
There were no more complaints as his companions swiftly packed up their gear and took down the protection wards they’d casted. They were enough to protect their campsite against any garden variety goblin or thief, but not the Guardian of the Forest’s monsters.
As they trekked back to the city, Osamu was the first to raise his concerns about their mission. “I don’t see how what we’re doin’ is useful.” He paused for a breath, leaning against his polearm for support. “Seems like every monster we kill, two more take its place.”
“I agree with Osamu,” came Suna’s mumble from behind them. "This is a waste of my time."
Aran sighed, wiping the sweat off his forehead. They’d been through a lot together—working more and more complicated missions as time progressed. But it was getting harder to see the finish line. "Let's not get hasty. We can bring up our concerns to Kita."
"Samu and Sunarin are just tryna slack off," Atsumu said with a laugh. “Think ‘bout it guys. Kita-san’s payin’ us good money, not to mention gettin’ to keep all the treasure we find. Soon yer gonna be able to afford to smuggle yer sister to the surface world.”
Suna’s ears twitched in annoyance—his sister and his homeland were touchy subjects. From the little he revealed to Aran, the aggressive religious system, the oppressive matriarchy, and their backwards views towards gender were all defining reasons for his escape. That he'd rather be a penniless street rat on the surface than a noble born son in his homeland was telling enough.
Suna grumbled out a quiet, “I suppose.”
“And me ‘n’ Samu can finally buy our own ship,” Atsumu boasted, fists on his hips. “Just like we’ve always dreamed ‘bout.”
An awkward silence hung in the air as Aran glanced at Osamu who glanced at Suna who glanced back at Aran.
The twins were the sons of the famed pirate queen Miya Tsuyoka and an unknown, inhuman father. They were raised in the fleet, bouncing from ship to ship, and never staying on dry land for long. After all, everywhere they went their strange features—pointed ears, curling horns, flicking tails—brought much more attention than their mother wanted.
Now that they were grown and independent, it had long been their fantasy to follow in her footsteps with their own fleet. That is, until the dream began to strain at Osamu and he realized he wanted something different. A restaurant in the city where he can live in comfortable peace.
While Osamu had confided in both Aran and Suna about his truth, his own brother was still left in the dark.
"Right," Osamu said, exhaling out a sigh. "Let's go talk to Kita-san."
Aran's first sight upon pushing open the heavy oaken door of the guild was the ever-composed Kita, stirring a fragrant pot perched on a roaring flame.
“That smells lovely, Kita-san,” Atsumu crooned sweeter than honey, clasping his hands together as he approached the pot. In the corner of his eye, Aran witnessed a chorus of eyerolls from Suna and Osamu at the act their companion was putting on. “A love potion, perhaps?”
“No.” Kita’s stare was hard enough to cut diamonds. “It’s rat poison.”
The peanut gallery howled with laughter—as loud as the two of them could manage—as Atsumu leapt back.
“What brings y’all here?” Kita snapped his fingers—extinguishing the flame in an instant. “Surely the spider has not been slain already?”
“She’s been defeated. Suna delivered a glorious final blow.” Aran gestured to his companion, whose cheeks flared a pinker shade of purple at the compliment, despite his impassive face.
“Very brave.” Kita’s eyes drifted down, settling on the bandages wrapped around Osamu’s leg before flicking back up to Suna. “To save yer friend, I presume? Yer very kind, Rintarou. Ya should show them how much ya care more often.”
Suna stammered, trying to find the words to defend himself with. Aran was swift to free him from his suffering. "Kita, we wanted to talk to ya about somethin'. The boys and me got some concerns."
Their sponsor's stare glinted gold as it swept across them. "Now, what might that be?"
"Our tasks seem never endin' and like we ain't succeeded anythin'." Aran held firm as the gaze met his own. Kita's thin brows were pulled together, a faint wrinkle of skin across the bridge of his nose. "We ain't mean any disrespect, 'course. I think we're ready to track down the Guardian of the Forest and put an end to this."
"Is that so?" Kita turned away towards the guild's counter. Aran couldn't help but notice the way his three companions visibly slumped. "I have received word of his domain’s location, however I wasn't sure y'all were ready. This is a journey ya may not come back from."
"We can handle it."
Kita's gaze swept across them once more, inciting nods from the other guys. "Very well."
“Er, Tsumu?” To no one’s surprise, Osamu was the first to speak up. “Are ya sure we’re goin’ in the right direction?”
Their journey had brought them to an unfamiliar thicket of tangled trunks and vines. Old-growth trees that soared so high the canopies vanished in a haze of fog. Blankets of green moss softened every rock and felled tree. Vibrant lichens crusted across bark like armor—as if the forest was ready for a fight. An ancient place peaceful yet dangerous. A domain where every being from the grand oaks to the fungi underfoot seemed to observe their every step.
“Yes!” Atsumu shouted, slightly too loud. Somewhere in the distance, an animal shrieked—haunting enough to curdle the blood in their veins. “Kita-san said to take the left path at the crossroads and follow the trail north,” Atsumu continued, lowering his voice.
Aran leaned over to look at the map Atsumu was holding. A clawed finger pointed at their current position—on the precipice of a vast, unmapped area that was nothing more than a blank void on the paper. He swallowed thickly, trying to will away any worries that threatened him.
“Don’t worry, Aran.” Suna shot him a grin—still tinged with nervousness, despite his cockiness. He flicked his hand open, summoning forth a violet flame that illuminated the woods. “I’m used to uncharted areas full of horrifying monstrous things.”
Somehow, that didn’t bring him comfort.
The path narrowed as they ventured farther into the unknown before it revealed a grassy clearing bordered by a solid wall of trees. Though Aran had been using his longsword as a makeshift machete to open up their path—he wasn’t so sure he could cut through this. A sudden rustle sounded behind them. Aran turned, heart soaring into his throat at the sight of branches winding and tangling together. Sealed in.
“You dare enter the domain of our lord?” Three deep voices spoke in unison behind them. Six keen eyes swirled with the Guardian’s magic. Twelve sharp claws eager to shred throats. Twenty-seven tails writhed behind a trio of wolf-sized foxes. “You shall never leave.”
The largest—stern-eyed and long-eared—leapt at Aran faster than he could process. Fangs bared as it held him down, snarling and snapping. If it weren’t for his armor, he had the sinking feeling he’d be dead by now.
“Aran-kun!” Osamu dashed into the fray, batting aside a silver and black fox with the butt of his polearm. A heavy breath was interrupted by the clang of Osamu’s blade colliding with his chest armor—skewering the long-eared fox in the process. “I gotcha!”
The fox opened its maw, letting out a horrific keen as it faded into shimmering iridescence. A shaky exhale escaped Aran’s throat as Osamu hauled him to his feet—one of relief, perhaps. They weren’t real foxes ensorcelled by the Guardian—merely magic. Illusions.
Atsumu and Suna made swift work of the other two foxes. A simple whispered charm. An artistic slash of daggers. A dying shriek from two beasts that never lived in the first place. A fading aura of magic.
“Easy.” Suna slid his daggers back in their sheaths. “That spider was harder to kill than these pushovers.”
A whistle sounded through the clearing. Echoing. Overpowering.
Then, silence.
Suna cried out, gasping in pain. Aran’s eyes widened as he saw an arrow embedded in the drow’s shoulder. Before he had a chance to step forth, Suna snapped it—sliding the pieces out with nothing more than a grimace on his face.
“Rin? Are ya okay?” Osamu asked, hands brushing against Suna’s arm. Bright, fresh blood stained his sleeve. Suna nodded, letting out a shaky exhale. “Maybe Aran can heal ya.”
Suna waved him off. “Shouldn’t waste his heal. We need to focus. Find the source.”
“No need.” A voice. Too familiar. Aran whipped around to see Kita standing on the edge of the clearing. Instead of his usual plain garb, he was dressed in rich brown and green armor. Slender fingers curled around a bow and another arrow, ready to be nocked. “I’m right here.”
“Kita-san?” The twins spoke in unison. They stole a glance at each other before Atsumu continued, “Are ya here to help us with the Guardian?”
The half-elf was silent for a long time, eyes cast downward. Despite the chirping of distant birds and rustle of branches in the wind, the air felt heavier and thicker than Osamu’s stews. An oppressive energy and a shimmering magic. Then, he looked upwards—sending a shiver down Aran’s spine.
“No, I am not.” Instead of the flat brown stare that haunted the twins’ dreams, Kita’s irises had shifted to a brilliant gold that seemed to penetrate the clearing’s gloom. Pupils narrowed into bestial slits as they flicked to Suna. “You.”
Suna’s expression shifted into belligerent confusion—brows pulled down, lips curled up, hands hovering over the blades strapped to his thighs. He opened his mouth, surely intending to say some snide comment but was silenced by a disembodied spectral hand gripping his throat.
“Rin!” Osamu shouted, eyes wide as the shimmering fingers squeezed—glancing back and forth between Suna and Kita. “What are ya doin’?”
“You call my foxes pushovers,” Kita continued, a growing grin revealing sharp canines. Though his gaze never strayed from the drow, he’d raised his bow—arrow hovering mere centimeters from Osamu’s face. “But look at ya. Pathetic.”
A pained cry escaped Suna’s throat as the grip tightened. “All of you are pathetic.” The spectral hand flung him to the side, body crumpling to the forest floor. Relief washed over Aran as he saw Suna roll onto his back coughing. He was alive. That’s all that mattered. “Comin’ into my guild prouder than peacocks thinkin’ ya were ready to face me.”
“Is he possessed or somethin’?” Atsumu’s voice came from behind Osamu, barely a whisper. “Maybe the Guardian figured out who was trackin’ him.”
Osamu flinched as an arrow whizzed past his head, severing a chunk of silver hair. A yelp from Atsumu—uninjured but terrified.
“I am myself.” Kita smiled. “Nothin’ more and nothin’ less.”
Motion. A hiss spat from Kita’s lips. Blood seeped from his abdomen as the tip of a blade poked through armor. Aran met Suna’s unusually wide gaze—the drow leaned on an elbow, other arm still outstretched from throwing the dagger. He slumped back down, chest rising and falling rapidly.
It happened too fast. Rage flashed across Kita’s face, then an expansive, oppressive, roaring heat. Pain rang out from Aran’s spine as he was slammed into a tree. Osamu—less armored than he was—was face down in the dirt trying and failing to get back up. A faint, nervous smile was shot his way, revealing a chunk of singed eyebrow and bits of burnt silver bangs.
“Samu! Aran!” A shout. “Ya bastard!” He looked up to see Atsumu casting a spell of some kind—finger pointing at Kita and summoning forth a stream of pink-tinged flame. Suna had crawled to his feet, staggering like a newborn deer and holding his bow like a walking stick. “We trusted ya!”
“A foolish idea, really.” Kita flicked his hands out—paying no mind to the flames biting at his skin and armor—conjuring a cloud of iridescent magic towards Atsumu. “You’ll regret ever comin’ into my forest.”
Aran had almost climbed to his feet when a dark shadow appeared from above—moving fast, faster than anything he’d ever seen before. “Osamu! Get up.” He gripped his companion’s shoulders as grey eyes grew wide in frantic fear.
“Now, perish.” Kita’s growl bouncing from tree to tree was the last sound Aran heard before he caught sight of the looming danger above them. Spinning and flashing white, green, red.
“Oh, shit!” A voice—distant yet familiar—yelled peculiar words. “Heads up!”
Just as Kita opened his mouth once more, the massive mysterious meteor-like object smashed into the clearing.
Then, black nothingness.
Carnage.
All of their figures laid scattered across the wooden gym floor, their stat sheets fluttered like fallen leaves, and the DM screen was crushed awkwardly. But nothing could compare to the flat brown eyes’ blank stare and the reddened imprint of a volleyball between them.
“Gin!” Atsumu howled, scrambling to his feet. “Aho! We’re fightin’ a boss!”
“Fighting is generous.” Suna snickered as Atsumu ran after their teammate. “More like getting our asses kicked.”
Aran looked back to their Dungeon Master to see his hands clasped in his lap, as if he was praying to his grandmother’s gods for strength and patience. Beside him, Osamu was pathetically trying to collect all their rogue dice.
“Well,” Aran said, clapping his hands on his thighs. “Why don’t we call the session here?”