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merryfortune · 4 years ago

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Maiden, Mother, Crone

Written for the Heart & Soul Zine by @aygozineproduction

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Word Count: 2.7k

Tags: References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Mother Complex, Mother-Son Relationship, Suicidal Themes, Angst, Canon Retelling

Synopsis: An examination of Spectre's life and his relationship with his mother and her avatar, Sunavalon Dryatrentiay, through the mythological lens of Adonis and his struggles, supplemented with the concept of the triple goddess.

i. Maiden

He was born to a tree, like Adonis, or so Spectre fancied. The actuality was not quite so whimsical. He had been abandoned, simple and cruel and true as that. He had been placed there, in the roots of her trunk, to become forgotten and to become the earth. Yet, in this place he was left to die, he felt held there. Comforted. The tree shuddered as that person abandoned him and she, the tree, took him in to love him as only a mother could.

The moon, he remembered, was beautiful. Glimpsed through the foliage of his Mother Tree. It was wide and shining, a holy disc of distant silver. Serene and splendid in the night sky, surrounded by its family, the stars. It was a perfect night, cool but not cold. If only she, his Mother Tree, could hold him and if only he could be held by her, but he slept in peace with her as his guardian until he was discovered by more of his humankind, the woman from the orphanage.

The woman was twenty-something, yet to come to her prime, yet to become a mother herself, and yet she had heard some sort of maternal calling that had brought her to her current occupation. But her arms felt wrong to be held in. He wanted to be returned to her, his mother, the tree, but instead his cries were misinterpreted.

It felt wrong to him to be held in human arms. It felt wrong to him to be cared for by a human. From when he was an infant, he could feel a call back to nature, that he could be more properly nurtured in the shade of foliage and the grass. He tried to describe it, but he was laughed at – and worse – for being just that little bit strange.

He didn’t feel strange. Just lonely and yearning.

He kept listening to that call. That urge. And eventually, it brought him back to her. Even though his legs were short, and his hands were small, he was able to return to his Mother’s side, where she waited in that meadow, for him, welcoming him back. He was able to rest better there, nestled in the grass at her roots.

It was when he was missing that he felt the most at home.

The uniqueness of his psyche further differentiated from his peers when he was returned to what was supposed to have been the Underworld. To him, it had been the field of Elysium. When he played his cards right, on that stage, wearing those VR goggles, all around him he would see the tall and sparkling flowers of that hallowed place in digital wonder.

He felt tested within that crucible for better, not for worse. He wanted to do his best for them, even if he didn’t know who they were but he was right. If he saw them, he would know them and when he saw Ryoken, he knew right away. That he was connected to that Incident and that he could bring back the fun times that Spectre desired.

He simply could not settle for that life. Ordinary and attempting to be undisturbed. He wasn’t allowed to talk about his experiences, and when he did, he was scolded harshly. Told that he was wrong about even his own feelings. Raging against this stifling conformity that was making it worse, he knew that he had to seek out the only one in his life whom he knew would understand.

It was then that he discovered something ghastly. His Mother Tree had been chopped down. Cleaved straight and horizontally, just above his diminutive height as a six-year-old. His hands clutched onto what remained of her as he sobbed. The final twig inside of him had snapped. He wanted to disappear, for good this time, and having Ryoken reappear before him at that place had been the perfect opportunity.

Just as Adonis had pledged an adoring loyalty to Aphrodite, Spectre pledged adoring loyalty to Ryoken, similarly of seafoam and had eyes like the ocean basked in starlight. To reward this devotion, Revolver gifted Spectre a deck and Spectre’s heart could have stopped as he turned over the first card on top and he saw her once more. Sunavalon Dryatrentiay. His beloved Mother. Or at least an avatar she could use within this unreal realm akin to how he wore mourning dove white that he was clad in here.

Her card glistened in the low light of the Knights of Hanoi’s virtual headquarters and Spectre’s eyes watered. She was beautiful, his heart surged, and he smiled with the most fantastic gratitude. He loved her so much.

ii.Mother

Reunited with her, Spectre felt at peace once more. Living side by side with Ryoken, he had a place that he could belong to. He finally had that pocketful of grass and leaves and twigs to cherish and one that couldn’t be taken away from him unlike at the orphanage where he was scolded for such behaviour.

Speaking of the orphanage, it was quieter here in the mansion compared to the dormitory for unfortunates that he had hailed from, but he liked it. He could keep things on his bedside table without the fear they would be spirited away by morning come for all sorts of reasons, most stemming from a sense of punishing him.

At his bedside, he could keep things like his deck of Sunavalon and Sunvine cards without fear. Having them near consoled him as a mother was comfort personified and whenever Spectre held her card in his hands, he felt it. And he needed comfort. And he needed it right now, desperately. Perhaps more than anyone would ever know.

The room around him was murky and indigo. He woke suddenly. Ripping himself from the sheets, he tried to evade the flickering flames of his nightmare. Fire. He hated fire. His eyes were wide but useless in the dark as his head pounded with the wretches of his nightmare. In his wobbling ache, he looked forward, from his upright position in his bed, and the first thing he saw in a gleaming shaft of silver – either moonlight or streetlight, it was difficult to ascertain – the calendar on his desk across the room was blinding. The neat squares of it were cryptically crossed off. He took a pitiful breath as he tried to calm himself in the face of such an omen.

Every day the final assault against the Ignis inched closer and Spectre had no regrets. It had to be done and for his master’s cause, Spectre would lay down his life without hesitation.

After all, he was like Adonis. Born to a tree, grew up in the Underworld, devoted to Aphrodite, and would die before he could choose another love for himself after his previous two of where he had been tested and where he had been proved. Thus, destroying the Ignis, even his own, was fateful payment as bittersweet as it was. Yet telling himself such stories did falter. Angels were not real and even he had his moments of weakness.

Just because he had such certainty of his devotion did not mean he was impervious to other fears. He was not exempt from doubt and other things which would eat at the edge of his consciousness when he was frayed or scared. He was many things and of those things, he was especially a coward. A coward and a mama’s boy.

With a long-suffering breath, Spectre tore his gaze away from the calendar. His eyes hurt and he put his hand on his face. His fingers scrunched in against his skin and he forced himself to calm down from the nightmare and the harrowing realisation that it was all nature to want to live, to survive, even against such fatalness like what was asked of him as a member of the Knights of Hanoi’s upper echelon. That fatalness was transformed in his mind – into fire, into separation and abandonment, tangible fears he has had since he was a child – as he knew the end for him would not be a bang but a whimper. He could feel his breath on his hand.

Slowly, he turned, and his heart skipped a beat as he faced his bedside table. By his lamp, that he would not turn on, he saw the physical stack of the cards that he used in the Link VRAINS. Forever and always near. He smiled softly, fondly. It was polite convention that the art of cards was kept face down, Spectre didn’t disagree, but he always kept his extra deck on top and in a precise order, a hierarchy not unlike a matriarchal family, so that the first card that he flipped over would be her.

He removed her gently from his deck and he felt soothed by his Mother’s face, as obscured in the dark as it was. Contentment pooled in his chest as he projected his perfect recollection of Sunavalon Dryatrentiay’s face onto the card which was black and inky in his hand. He breathed shallowly, calmly, until he thought that he could rest again as he imagined Sunavalon Dryatrentiay’s hand caressing him, cooing a lullaby at him. He smiled but there was a twitch in his lower lip. He repressed a sob.

Spectre withdrew into his bed once more, pulling up the doona and he held Sunavalon Dryatrentiay close. The slim edge of her card just ghosting along the side of his face. He pulled up his legs. Where he usually slept like a log, he would try to sleep like a baby. Thumb in his mouth included, he closed his eyes against the welling of tears that he felt, ignoring the red and orange phosphenes on his eyelids, like embers of his nightmare. Fire. He hated it. He was afraid of it.

iii. Crone

Unfortunately, fear was useless for a Knight and Spectre vied to be nothing if not useful. Going into battle, there was nothing that Spectre wouldn’t do for Revolver. Their goals – Revolver’s goals – were noble. Gallant.

Staring down Playmaker, there was no cowardly feat that Spectre would never consider nor execute if it meant getting Revolver’s way. Using pawns like Zaizen to encumber Playmaker, using Playmaker’s lame sense of justice against him. Yes, to him, being called a dirty cheater were truly high words of wonderful praise if it meant that the end was not only justified but achieved.

But seeing her fall, Spectre’s mind returned to that vermillion evening when he had found his Mother’s tree trunk. His heart wrenched and he tuned out how Playmaker spoke. A most gallant duologue between Ignis and Origin highlighting Playmaker’s sense of justice and how his victory appeared to be within reach with Spectre’s sacred Mother Tree in the graveyard.

Hearing such valiant drivel ignited the fervour inside of Spectre. His muscles twitching beneath the stiffness of his white jacket as he kept his fist close by his side. His stomach knotted with disgust. Lilac petals fluttered loosely on the wind, entwining with scattered blue data. Bit by bit, she degraded and Spectre could only watch as she vanished. That vanishing left wreaked grief on both his eyes and his heart.

He turned around, swift on his heel, spittle on his lips, and he roared, “How dare you? My sacred Mother Tree!”

A good mother was slow to anger but when you hurt her child, her fury and rage would be sublime. A force of nature. And Spectre could not have been wounded more, in between such retched trickery from the so-called hero of this story which had caused his Mother Tree to be felled once more.

“I activate the Continuous Spell Card,” Spectre’s hand thrust forward, “Sunavalon Cursed Reborn!” His voice was stern, if hasty, as he explained the effect of the card. He was rabidly eager to use it against Playmaker.

Upon the command of his Spell Card upturned, the emptied field of their Master Duel, barren and ravaged, glowed as the continuous Spell Card was activated. Roots and vines, beet purple, erupted from beneath the cement of the bridge. From this digital nether of the Graveyard, Spectre’s darling Sunavalon Dryatrentiay emerged. Reborn. A crone. Face full of fangs, eyes ablaze with violent hues of violet, and sharp teeth bared. All of her surged forward, shaken free of her verdant foliage, as she tried to protect her precious son.

It was all or nothing. Sunavalon Dryatrentiay’s effects were negated but for every link she had – four, four like death – she gained one thousand Attack Points. He would risk life and limb for one last gamble, even if it meant transmuting her gentle beauty in hideous ferity. He would not allow Playmaker to upheave their justice. The Ignis would be terminated, for the greater good. Spectre would go through the Underworld, through Elysium and the Mourning Fields, through Styx and the Asphodel Meadows: anything for the means of Revolver’s ends.

Yet it was, distinctly, all for nought as he threw himself into this final assault against Playmaker and with the striking sword of Playmaker’s own Knight, the Excode Talker of the Wind Attribute, Spectre’s efforts were his best, as twisted as they were, but still not enough. His Mother Tree was slain once more, through the trunk, and he took not just the damage of the Duel but of other pains, too.

Playmaker won. He lost. It was as simple as that. Playmaker’s convictions were stronger than his devotion. It was as complicated as that.

The cables of the Bridge began to break for a third time. Not with a snap but with an inferno. The tarmac of the road began to crack, and Playmaker launched himself forward with purpose where Spectre could only saunter languidly. He wondered, madly, what afterlife there was for someone like him with only downwards to go. Then, he wondered, sanely, hopefully, that Revolver would put a stop to this madness, defeating Playmaker who could only go forward.

Walking into the inferno, he laughed. He wasn’t sure what it was about the prospect of certain doom, but it was hilarious. Arms outspread, begging for one last embrace from his dear mother, he walked into the flames where he saw her visage. Sunavalon Dryatrentiay was waiting for him and with every step he took, he remembered something sweet. Something kind. His upbringing may not have been ideal, but he found it idyllic, nonetheless. The moments of his childhood where he had the opportunity to bond with his mother; clambering atop her limbs, sleeping amid her roots, every memory took him further and further back unto his rebirth. He did not remember being abandoned but he remembered being adopted.

Walking into that blaze, Spectre had just one hope in his heart as it would be her face which would be the last thing that he would ever have the good fortune of seeing. He hoped that he had been a good son to her. His Myrrha. The mother of Adonis. She who had been rejected by society and transformed into a tree for her incestuous transgressions. Spectre could empathise. He knew how heartbreaking it could be to be rejected and punished.

He just hoped that it hadn’t been an illusion, that the very real love that he felt unto her, who accepted him when his own blood and kin did not, had not been an infantile dream or projection. With tears streaking through his grin and his laughter, he just wanted to know if he had been a good son to her, his Mother Tree, his Sunavalon Dryatrentiay and loved in equal measure as he had loved her.

Thus, it wasn’t enough to simply have been born like Adonis, to a tree which desired nothing more than to protect him, and it had not been enough to live like Adonis either, in rich devotion of Ryoken, his starry-eyed Aphrodite who was both wicked and noble, but he must die like Adonis, too, with his heart pierced, for it was better to die loved, laughing with bushels of yellow and orange anemone flowers growing out of his mouth and his heart, better to die as ash and data than to be abandoned or worse, unneeded by whom he loved.

#aygozineproduction #yugioh vrains #vrains #yugioh #spectre (vrains)#specter (vrains)#writing tag #spectre my beloved i love you so much this is my masterpiece

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kusunogatari · 5 years ago

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[ Frozen Flames and Shadowed Lights || Chapter Eight ] [ @yukaikokoro @abyssaldespair ] [ Hatake Kakashi, Kottakawa Kumiko ] [ Blood ] [ Verse: Divine Light ] [ Previous || Next ]

Hundreds of miles yet south, Kakashi and Kumiko make good time along the road. Their path has been graced by good weather...and so far, a fortunate lack of any other beasts. By night they camp off the road, Kakashi’s igni ven making a campfire nearly instantaneous, and his skill in hunting and trapping adding fresh supplies to their evening meals. A welcome change of pace from their typical dried and cured rations.

With Kumiko’s branching skill into controlling water, that too is a worry of the past. With a bit of effort, she can draw it straight from the ground, letting them fill their skins and quench their mounts’ thirsts whenever necessary.

“You know, I think if I had the choice, I’d much prefer ven like yours,” Kakashi offers conversationally one evening, reclined against a log as firelight flickers. Both their faces are thrown into sharp relief as evening falls.

Kumiko gives a short chuckle. “It has its uses, but so too does fire.”

“True...but fire is hungry. Its primary want is to consume. Beyond damaging foes and cooking a meal, I’ve little use for it. But water? Think of all you can do with such a necessary element.”

There’s a hum of agreement. “Perhaps. But every element is more than its first impression. Water is unruly - it longs to flow, just as air seeks to be free. Earth is stubborn. But while each element has its vice, so too does it claim a virtue. Earth and stone are stubborn, yes...but so too do they know the value of patience. Air is rebellious and hates to be contained...but teaches us what it means to be free. Water has been named the element of melancholy in its darkest hours...but in turn, it flows on...and teaches us to forgive.”

“And fire?”

“Fire’s vice is, of course...anger.” Kumiko looks to Kakashi thoughtfully. “...I felt it rise in you the night Ryū was taken. But fire instills in us one of the most important virtues. At least, in my opinion.”

A silver brow perks.

Smiling knowingly, Kumiko murmurs, “Without even a thought to your own safety, or any other conflict you might encounter...you set off to save someone you care for. You exemplify Ignitrios’ bravery excellently.”

Reflexively, Kakashi insists, “I think that was less bravery, and more lacking any care about anything but doing what I need to do.”

“...is that not bravery?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. In truth, he feels a certain...disconnect. He doesn’t plunge himself head first into danger because of bravery. Not in his eyes. Instead...it’s a kind of cowardice. A lack of attachment to the idea of escaping his next scrape alive.

“...guess I’m not the best one to decide that,” is instead his evasive reply.

“Well I think you’ve been very brave. You’re chasing after Ryū with every ounce of determination. You helped that cart driver and gave him a valuable asset without thinking. No matter your self opinion, I find you to be an honorable man, Kakashi.”

“Well...we’ve not been traveling a week yet. I’ve time to change your mind,” he replies wryly.

“Oh, I doubt that very much.”

“...why?”

“You haven’t asked me what Glaciris’ disciples are known for,” Kumiko counters with a grin.

“...well, then you’d best tell me anyway.”

“Our vice is envy...we often covet things that others have, which we want. We will deny it to our graves, and insist we are great as we are...but you’ll find that many aspects of ourselves, and our way of life, are held out of a stubbornness not unlike Thera’s. Winter is always envious of the love that comes with Spring. Thick ice is slow to melt when kept cold - we resist change. And yet...that finds form in another trait. We are undying loyal to those we throw our cards in with. And you, Kakashi,” Kumiko offers, leaning back with folded arms and a smug look, “are someone I’ve made my wager on. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

Shock peeks through Kakashi’s expression, mismatched eyes widening a few degrees as muscles slacken in his face. “...you must be a very poor gambler.”

“I only play to win. And something tells me, when all this is said and done...you’ll have gotten exactly what you want. Perhaps even more.”

The pair lapse into silence for a time, Kakashi mulling over all he’d told her. Then a question comes to mind. “...what of lux?”

“Hm?”

“What are lux mages supposedly known for?”

“Well...most agree that a light mage’s downfall is their pride. They can be a very...haughty people when pressed. After all, their Elemental is regarded as the source of all life, and health...they’re very much looked up to, and it can often feed their egos.”

Kakashi perks a brow. Ryū’s never been very prideful, per se...but she can be quite haughty about her abilities...if less out of pride, and more insistence she put them to good use. Even if, perhaps, it’s not always what the recipient wants. “...and?”

“And...their virtue is faith.”

“...faith?”

“That all things, in time, will come to be as they must be. And that, more often than not, the outcome will be good...if not always in the most obvious ways. They can find blessings in curses if they hold their tongues the right way. So, on the other half of the scale...Tenebreon mages are known to be doubtful. They don’t hold faith in anything but the certainty of death. They rely more on their own actions than hoping. And yet...unlike their prideful light mirrors, they are often well versed in humility. They accept that their powers - those of undoing, and death - are a simple necessity. Nothing to boast of, or hold pride in. They accept their place in the balance, and leave it at that.”

“...really?”

A nod. “Of course...not all disciples of each element follow these rules to the letter. It’s more...an overall feeling from each. There are always exceptions...to both the good, and the bad. Most, anymore, put little stock in them. But there’s still something to be said of them, at least in my opinion.”

The next day, they pack up and continue on their path, another day of fine Summer weather keeping the road clear and skies open.

But a few miles in, Kakashi holds up an arm, brow furrowing as he and his partner stop.

“...what is it…?”

Mismatched eyes flicker over their surroundings. The road, though dry, bears the marks of rather...interesting passage. A cart, some chaotic horse prints...and if one looks close enough...a few specks of blood.

Along the road, trees have been felled in a rather crude half-barricade. Random and seemingly innocent enough to appear inconsequential...but Kakashi knows what this means.

“...someone’s planning an ambush here.”

Kumiko frowns, gathering her reins. “...is it serious?”

“Looks rather novice, in all honesty...and though I can’t make out too much from the tracks...seems it’s a rather small band. Half a dozen, at best.”

“...what should we do?”

Heaving a thoughtful sigh, Kakashi murmurs, “...we’ll be fine. You’ve mighty ven, and I’ve enough to display an amount of flare to scare them off. I don’t see evidence of any mages among them, so we should be able to handle it.”

“If you say so.”

Cautiously, the pair keep moving. The debris along the roadside means any carts and untrained horses would be pinned in the passage, but Kakashi’s sure their mounts could jump it...though something tells him they won’t need to.

Several minutes pass in tense, waiting silence...and then an arrow lands with a thwip in the compacted soil of the road before them. Kumiko’s stallion comes to an unsteady stop, Kakashi’s gelding less phased after plenty of encounters like this before.

From the woodwork, a group about the size Kakashi guessed emerges, armed with crossbows, bows, and swords. A few behind, and a few at the front as a wagon is pulled across the road before them: a makeshift roadblock.

Kakashi just stares almost boredly.

The leader - or so he assumes, given his garb and position - gestures at him with his crossbow. “Throw down yer valuables, and p’haps we’ll not turn the pair a’ ya into pincushions.”

“...is this really the best you could do?” the hunter drawls.

For a moment the other man tenses in surprised offense, then growls. “T’hell you playin’ at? You deaf, y’dumb bastard? Throw down yer gold, or I’ll stick a bolt ‘tween yer eyes!”

Sighing, Kakashi replies, “I can hear you just fine. But you see, there’s just one problem...it’s pretty clear that none of you are mages...am I correct?”

The group shifts subtly, exchanging glances.

“Well...unfortunately for you, we’re both learned in the arts.” Bringing up a hand, Kakashi feints with a handful of flames, Kumiko coating hers with a spear of ice as she plays along.

Several of the bandits visibly stutter, clearly unnerved at the display. A few toss glances back toward the trees

“So...I’ll tell you what,” the hunter drawls. “You let us pass...and we won't kill you. Get in our way, interfere with the mission we’re on…” He feeds a few bolts of lightning through the fire, and a few rogues cry out in startled fear. “...the next patrol will have to sweep up your ashes. I’ve no patience for a few empty-headed coin purse thieves when I’ve got far more important matters to tend to.”

Glancing at his men, the leader scowls. “Buck up, y’bunch a’ cowards! Shoulda left you lot in town!”

Deciding to let his patience fray, Kakashi directs a ball of fire forward with the man distracted. It latches onto his crossbow, dropped with a squeal of fear and quickly consumed to cinders.

“Your flesh is next,” the berech growls, wanting to avoid a full on attack.

Several of the men turn tail and run back to the trees, but two remain alongside their ringleader and fire. Incinerating the bolt coming his way, Kakashi spurs on his horse as Kumiko in turn makes a shield of ice along a forearm. Lifting her hands, she begs water from the soil, reaching up to the men’s knees before freezing them in place.

For good measure, Kakashi lights their blockade with a stream of fire, smoke billowing as he and his gelding cut around it, Kumiko snaking past the other end as hollers and curses follow them down the road. After a mile or so at a good clip, they slow to a trot.

And then Kumiko starts laughing.

“That...was actually a lot of fun!” she announces, letting her shield finally melt from her arm and dribble back to the road. “What a bunch of fools...maybe that will make them think twice about their little endeavor!”

“It might...but more than likely, it will just set them back a few hours. The thing about fools is that even with so little brain between them...enough bodies come together, and they’ll become dangerous. We were lucky they were so ill-prepared and outmatched. Had there been more, we’d’ve been in trouble.”

“Well, at least that was little time lost. A few more days and we’ll reach the main city of the Theran territory. From there...a leg to the border, and then to Boralis…!”

“Anything I should know in advance?”

“Plenty,” Kumiko admits dryly. “Like every culture, we have our customs, our preferences...but hopefully our stay will be brief enough, there won’t be any time for you to offend anyone.” She grins at his deadpan glance. “Once all is said and done, I can give you a full crash course on how things work in the north. All you’ll really need to know is just basic manners for our stay. And I already warned you that outsiders aren’t looked on all too fondly...so it should probably be me doing the talking. We’ll find Raziya, make a new plan based on her input, and go from there.”

“Think we’ll run into your father?”

At that, the dignitary hardens slightly. “...I’ll hope not...matters are too pressing for me to get into an argument with him. Odds are he would simply be indignant about our involvement, but...I cannot ignore our ties to all this, no matter how minimal or unintended. If he’s feeling stubborn enough, he might even try to waylay me...especially with the Summit going on. That will rile his temper…”

Kakashi, wisely, decides to keep his thoughts to himself. If they do encounter trouble in Boralis...he might have to carry on without her. True he’ll lose a valuable ally, and likely an easier way to get through the mountains...but at the same time, matters are too pressing for some politics to get in his way. As Suigin said, time is of the essence.

By some grace, the next few days pass with far less excitement. They make it through the Theran border with little trouble, and within the day reach the largest settlement within it. And good thing too, as a light drizzle begins...and gathering dark clouds only promise it will rain harder as time goes on.

But before they enter the settlement proper, Kakashi offers words of caution.

“Have you been through this city before?”

“Briefly on our way to the Summit, and only for the night...why?”

He gives a sigh, trying to think how best to explain. “...this territory has seen its share of tug-of-wars and unrest. As a result, there’s a lot of...despairing people within it. I’m sure you avoided the poorer parts of town, so perhaps it escaped your notice. But just...be on your guard. Little is what it seems once you leave the main thoroughfare. People suffering hard times are often desperate...and dangerous. We’ll have to pass through some of the rougher streets on the way in. Follow my lead, all right?”

Looking a bit perturbed, Kumiko gives a nod, drawing her hood a bit further as they approach the city gate. With its current Theran occupants, a stone wall - tiered and walked by archers - keeps the city safe from any threats beyond. Guards casually watch the incoming traffic, attentive but otherwise lax.

Hooves dig into the mud as they pass through the gate, the cobbled streets not yet reaching this entrance. Here, ramshackle buildings seem to loom along the road.

...Kumiko can already see what he means.

It’s several blocks before they reach the inner heart of the city, which boasts lights and more orderly streets. All Kakashi wants is to reach it, find a decent inn, and get a night’s rest in a proper bed before they make their way to the next border.

And yet, nothing is ever as simple as he wants it to be.

“...Kakashi, wait.”

Reining in his mount to a stop, he looks back. “What?”

Rather than answer, Kumiko dismounts, and warning flares in the hunter’s spine. Standing at a corner, cowering in the rain, is a young boy in shoddy clothes, barefoot. Large eyes peer at them as Kumiko crouches to his level. “Are you all right?”

“I...I’ve lost my m-mother,” he stutters. “And now I...I don’t know which way to go!”

...something doesn’t feel right. Frowning, Kakashi gives their surroundings a once-over, looking for trouble.

“Do you know what direction your mother took?”

Rather than answer, the child just points...back toward the slums.

“Kumiko…” Kakashi begins.

“We can’t just leave him here, Kakashi. Surely it won’t take long to find someone he knows?”

“I’d much rather we avoid that part of town -”

“And leave a child out in the rain?”

“May I remind you we have pressing matters to attend to?”

“And what would Ryū think of you leaving this little one behind?”

A curt sigh exhales through his nose. Now is not the time to consider what Ryū would think. He’s a lot more concerned that they can’t know anything about her condition at the moment given she’s been kidnapped. And yet...he knows what she would say.

“Our task is a large one, but small ones add up and make a difference,” the glacial mage insists, taking the boy’s hand. “I’ll not be ten minutes.”

“You are not going by yourself!”

“Then come with me!”

Swearing an oath under his breath, Kakashi takes her mount’s reins, following through the narrowing streets. If they live through this...he just might kill her.

On and on they go, the streets a mess of mud and debris. Every instinct is screaming at him how this has to be some kind of trap. But Kumiko is stubborn, and twelve know he’s not going to be responsible for losing another dignitary.

All of a sudden, the roadway opens up into some kind of town square. At the center is a well, framed by more of the same crooked, rat-gnawed houses.

...oh gods.

“...Kumiko -!”

Gasping, she recoils as an arrow tears a neat hole through her cloak just under her arm, extended to hold the boy’s hand. As her grip is lost, he bolts for the nearest building.

He knew it, he KNEW IT!

Ambush.

Around them, atop the roofs and out from alleys, nearly three dozen rogues step into view, clothing rain-sodden and expressions sneering.

“So, these are the pair?” one man calls. Attention caught, Kakashi swears as the ringleader from before - the small group from the road - steps up beside what is clearly his employer.

“Aye, s’them,” he confirms. “Made a right fool of us, and burned our cart…!”

“You attacked us!” Kumiko counters, managing to stagger back to her horse’s side. But another warning shot makes it clear they don’t want her back in the saddle.

“That’s the name of the game, my dear,” the boss replies. “But rather than play it...you broke the rules. And broken rules necessitate penalties…”

Around them, bows are drawn, crossbows lifted, and to Kakashi’s dread, some hands glow with elemental energy...mostly Theran.

This...is not looking good.

Kumiko just glowers, icy eyes giving a faint glow as her element reacts to her emotions. “You’re nothing but cutthroats and cowards...if you’re so desperate as to rob from those who are also struggling, you’re no better than those who in turn stole from you!”

“You’ve no room to talk,” the ringleader snaps back, his men shifting. “I can tell from your haughty words and upturned chin you’re the upper crust that looks down your nose at us. Maybe we’ll cut it from your face and change your point of view!”

At once, bolts fire from all directions...but Kumiko is ready. With a flare of ven she raises an ice wall from the rain at their feet and falling from the heavens. The projectiles chip in as she swings back to her saddle.

“Well now what?” Kakashi demands, reining in his gelding as the small space panics him.

“Now, we’re going to put your ven to the test, Kakashi,” Kumiko growls. “You say you prefer fulgur to igni?”

“...yes.”

“On my mark...I will channel mine into the rain and create a network of water. And you are going to fill it with lightning. Just enough to stun them. That should give us enough breathing room to make a run for it back into town proper.”

“I don’t know if I -?”

“Take a page out of Luxeria’s book and have a little faith!” The ice begins to crack as more and more arrows dig into the surface. “Ready?”

“No!”

“Too bad!”

At once the ice liquifies once more, and Kumiko - with a roar of power and determination - casts it in all directions, a band just within Kakashi’s reach.

Teeth grit with apprehension, he digs a hand into it and charges as much ven as he can before letting it fly through the stream.

At Kumiko’s demand, she whips the electrified liquid in all directions. Cries stutter and shriek as the lightning surges through their nerves, crumpling a vast majority of the company...including the leader.

“Now RUN!”

Wheeling their mounts about, the pair kick heels into sides and urge the horses into a dead run, slipping and sliding in the mud and yet miraculously keeping their feet. Through the alleyways they tear, knocking aside stray barrels and debris in their bid for freedom. Civilians give shouts of shock before the pair emerge back into the main thoroughfare, hooves clattering against the cobblestone.

Only once they’re bathed in city light and near enough to crowds for safety do they completely slow their pace.

Catching his breath, Kakashi wordlessly takes the lead, moving to a nearby inn he remembers.

Behind, Kumiko is silent.

They pay for stables, and on their way into the inn proper, Kakashi steps up to a nearby guard. Kumiko, a few paces back, furrows her brow as they have a hushed conversation...and she sees a small bundle of gold slip from the hunter’s hand to guard’s.

Once in their room, she demands, “What was that?”

“A bribe,” Kakashi replies, tone tart. “To keep an eye out for anyone looking for a pair of mages matching our descriptions. But the real question,” he then goes on, turning to her abruptly, “is what your behavior was. What in the twelve hells is so hard to understand about following my lead? About being careful? Are you deaf?!”

“No, I’m not deaf! I was just -”

“You were just directly disobeying my order.”

“...who are you to give me orders?”

“The one who’s scraped a living from the world and all its sides! The good, the bad, the in-between! Forgive me, madam dignitary, but for all your connecting with your people up in the north, it is more than clear you have a lot to learn about how the world beyond your icy bubble works. You almost got us killed! And that was after my warning! I know how this city works. How this world behaves! I know its underbelly and the shadows in it! Next time I tell you something, you listen. Or I will leave you behind and do this on my own. Am I clear?”

Looking wholly indignant, Kumiko’s shoulders tense, looking every part a ruffled bird. But she reins in her response, giving it time to age and tame. “Well we got out alive, didn’t we? We fought with our skills, and we won. I am a leader. I cannot turn a blind eye to someone in need.”

“You’re a leader, yes. And you have to learn that not everyone can, or wants, to be saved. That trap was so obvious it hurt. And you fell for it: hook, line, and sinker. You have good intentions. I’ll give you that. But you must temper it with experience, a trained eye for trouble, and a healthy dose of cynicism. Or you will get us killed. And I’ve no time for it. We got lucky. We can’t count on rain every time we face a foe, or my ven holding up. Risks like that cannot be taken. Not with the challenge we’re already set to face.” Kicking off his boots, he sits along the side of his bed. “...now, eat something if you’ve the stomach for it, and get some sleep. We rise at dawn, resupply, and then continue on.”

Temper still flared, Kumiko bites back a retort. It won’t do to argue now...not when they’re both still riled. While she can see his point...so too does she think there some merit to her actions. Foolish, maybe...but she has to believe in the good in the world. She has to. Despondency and hopelessness are what she fights.

...maybe not every battle can be won. But that doesn’t mean she can just give up.

...does it?

Huffing a breath, she abandons the thought for now, digging out some rations from her pack, chewing them swiftly, then turning in as Kakashi extinguishes the lamps with a flare of ven.

...they’ll make amends in the morning.

Welp, we’ve had our first squabble :’D But hey, you gotta get to know ALL sides of the people you travel with, right? And that includes when things go a little, uh...wrong, haha. I’m sure things will iron out - a little headbutting had to happen at some point~

#yukaikokoro #abyssaldespair #hatake kakashi #kottakawa kumiko #blood //#divine light [ au ]

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