#i always think of trains as like. majestic animals. ancient beast

[objectum-crush-gush]

Trains are so handsome my heart goes so fast everytime I see one! I love love love trains with all my heart I'm so in love. This feelings make me feel so safe and happy.

Train

Trains are actually a lot more efficient than highways and long bus routes! Here's to hoping that they get more funding so we can all see them more often :)

p.s. subways too. little guys :)

[365daysoftododeku]

28th January 2019

Author: Elaine

________________________________________________________________

It just had to come down to this, didn’t it?

Izuku tugs the thick woolen coat around him more tightly and takes a deep breath. And then another. And then another. That’s three breaths done in less than twenty seconds and so far, no scary, fire-breathing, icicle-wielding. . . .whatever had made any move to swallow him in a snap. Or even show itself, in that case.

Izuku sighs – that’s another one – and trudges on up the snowy, pine-tree-covered, ice-capped hunk of rock the people his age in his village dubbed “The Death Mountain.” Not very surprising considering it was historically used as an ancient ritual place for sacrifices to the gods.

Which he was.

Not a god of course. (His luck wouldn’t have it.)

A sacrifice.

He feels a familiar tingle in his nape as he hikes above a particularly slippery-looking slab of earth, hunching over and huffing right after to catch his breath. If he were a god, he definitely wouldn’t be caught up here in this dumb ritual, burning his lungs climbing up this dumb mountain, on his way to become a dumb sacrifice just because of some dumb –

Snap.

Izuku stills. He whips his head towards the source of the offending noise, eyes trained steadily for any further sign of danger in the snow-kissed bush he could’ve sworn had moved. “H-hello?” His hands clench slowly into fists, his mind resigned to his fate, but his body poised, refusing to go down that easily and here it is, here it is, here it is –

Oh.

Great.

Totally fantastic.

Here he was: Midoriya Izuku. Born on the 15th day of the 7th moon. Cause of demise: one fluffy, completely harmless, pure white rabbit. It scrunches its nose at him, completing an obviously dismissive once-over – Oh, another one for the higher ups, it probably thought – before bounding away with its bouncy tail in tow.

For yet another time today, Izuku sighs. Oh, gods.

Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten caught up too much in his train of thought – it’s always been that way with him, always a problem that even his mother had picked up on that sometimes he thinks that maybe it isn’t a problem and that it just happened to be the way he was to say his thoughts out loud because for some reason just having them there felt so much better and helped him think more clearly and –

Izuku really needed to get a hold of his thoughts.

“Who’s there?”

This sound was definitely louder, and it was definitely nearer. It was more than enough to make Izuku crouch back into a familiar stance, muscles ready and wound like springs ready to burst into action, heart pounding so wildly that it almost painful. The single strand of long blond hair his mentor had gifted him burned uncomfortably in the pocket of his wool trousers, Izuku now extremely aware of its presence but – no, not yet, not yet, he’s not ready yet –

A beat.

And then another.

And then another.

Low sunlight filtered through ashen clouds falls on rich russet and gleaming silvery fur, on a pair of sharp mismatched eyes, and on black polished hooves that take one wary trot forward. There’s a patch of angry red skin around a bright turquoise eye, Izuku notes, and yet . . .

It’s easily one of the most majestic thing Izuku has seen. Not even the most honored hunt in his village could have brought back a reindeer as beautiful as this.

He steps forward slowly, almost unthinking of his actions, but keenly aware of the cautious glint in a pair of mismatched eyes that watch his every more. “Hey there. It’s ok.” His arm leaves his side, palm facing forward and fingers spread apart slightly in a show of complete surrender. “It’s alright. I won’t hurt you.”

Not that he’d ever try to in any other circumstance, Izuku thinks to himself. Even if animals the size of a family’s hut and with fur split straight down the middle with two opposing colors almost immediately warranted a Please do not attack, probably supernatural notice, Izuku wagers he’d be too stunned by its beauty and too excited to study the beast to remember its nature.

More than that, his stomach recoiled at the thought of raising a fist unless it was to protect – a lesson he’d learned early on.

Which is exactly why, after surveying its apprehensive stance, his eyes fall immediately to the trail of bright red spots on the snow where the reindeer had stepped.

Oh no.

His heart sinks in both pity and rage.

Creatures like this weren’t to be trifled with, he remembers angrily, and they definitely were not to be hunted like this. If Izuku had been having doubts about befriending this reindeer, those thoughts were forgotten completely. He kneels carefully before the creature, quick to shove aside a small thought involving the reindeer kicking him off the mountain, and sets down the satchel the village had given him.

Rather thoughtful of them, actually, to send him off to his death with such bounty. 

“I . . . I have something that could help you.” Izuku says, taking out a skin of water and a long piece of folded fabric meant for any multitude of uses. “You’re hurt.” He inches forward, ever so slowly. “I could . . . if you want. If you’d let me.”

For a second, there’s a flare of unusual intelligence in that pair of mismatched eyes that makes Izuku’s heart jump. It was unreadable, but Izuku knew it could’ve been suspicion. Hesitance. Even alarm. Whichever it was, it’s gone just as quickly as it came, and the reindeer limps the distance between them to drop itself, still looking more dignified than I ever could, Izuku thinks at the back of his mind, to rest closely to the green-haired boy.

“Thank you,” Izuku murmurs, swiftly washing both hands before skilled fingers hold the bleeding limb gently to scan the wound. He’ll have his mother to thank for his trained eye. It wasn’t deep and by the looks of it, neither was it old. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief. “That’s good,” he mutters to himself. “It looks new enough for it not to fester. You’re pretty lucky.”

They stay that way for some time, Izuku mumbling quietly to himself as he wraps the reindeer’s leg in fresh fabric, the reindeer turning to Izuku occasionally in slight interest, later being comfortable enough to look away at the sprawling pine forest below them.

It’s almost sundown when Izuku finishes gently tying a firm knot on the makeshift bandage. “There you go,” he says, slightly admiring his handiwork. The reindeer pushes itself up, wobbling slightly before returning to its regal stand. “I hope whoever did this to you doesn’t come back.” The reindeer gives him an inquisitive look. Or at least, Izuku imagines it does. “I’d give them a good beating if they did.” This time it’s an amused snort. Izuku smiles despite himself. Well. At least that’s one of them guaranteed happy and alive after today.

“I’ll be going now. Find shelter and all since it’s . . . you know. Getting dark.” This was absolutely ridiculous, asking permission and talking to the reindeer as if it could understand him. As if it were a person. But there’s a strange inkling in the pit of his stomach that tells him it didn’t deserve anything less.

The reindeer turns away, walks a few paces and stops, turning to look back at Izuku, eyes seemingly almost aggravated. If it could talk, Izuku was pretty sure it would say, Well? He stands reluctantly.

That’s ridiculous, Izuku. Animals don’t talk.  

With budding resolve, he steps by the reindeer’s side, and together they walk deeper into the snow-laden forest.

Animals aren’t usually so . . . human, he repeats to himself in his head. But that same, strange feeling from before tells him otherwise as he lingers on that final word.

This one might be.

  They reach a cave before night fully sets in; it’s a slightly damp but well-shielded hollow at a relatively secure side of the mountain. By this time, Izuku, feeling the fatigue seep into his bones, would love nothing more than be to dead to the world – either temporarily by sleep or permanently by the hands of some god who clearly decided some things were more important than their once-a-century sacrifice.

He rests his head against a soft tunic, bundling it into something vaguely resembling a pillow.

Though entirely uncomplaining of how generous the village elders may be, it baffled him that they’d given him food and water to last more than a few days. Not to mention a spare change of clothes. That wasn’t even considering several other items that would’ve normally been on the more luxurious side for his status.

The reindeer stares at him with an unwavering gaze. This time, however, Izuku doesn’t feel hostility nor frigidness. Just . . . warmth. And reassurance.

“Good night,” he whispers, eyelids easily falling shut.

And this weariness truly must have been of a different sort, because he imagines a solid but gentle rumble reply to him in return.

Good night.

  There are only two possible explanations right now for what’s in front of his own two, sleep-dusted but perfectly working eyes. The first is that during the night, his new reindeer friend had abandoned him after decently repaying Izuku’s kind gesture, and its spot was now taken over by a lean, albeit muscular, boy around Izuku’s age. The second was . . .

Impossible. Absolutely irrational. But in a world of gods and magical reindeer, this had to be the more plausible one.

He stares at crimson red hair neatly giving way to pale ivory. At a strip of deep rosy skin surrounding a watchful turquoise eye. Izuku’s own gaze falls then to firmly set lips, strong arms, a bare chest, and . . .

Dear gods.

It wasn’t an entirely bad sight to awaken to, if Izuku was going to be honest with himself. Just a surprising one, able to still him as soon as he’d seen the intruder catch him in the act.

Izuku looks down, a slight prickle on his face painfully informing of the blush now dusting his cheeks. How in Tartarus could it be so warm while inside a clammy cave? With the winter winds howling outside?

It’s the boy opposite him that clears his throat to break the heavy, uncomfortable silence.

“Thank you. For doing what you did.” The boy twists slightly, letting the grey morning light fall on a wiry leg, completely pale if not for a jagged stretch of vicious red. Even then, Izuku could already note how it seemed to calmly pale into pink. “You didn’t have to.”

Izuku’s eyes snap up, immediately looking for guile in the other and finding none. There clearly was no question now of who this boy was. “You were hurt. I couldn’t . . .” he trails off when he realizes how intently the other gazed at him. “I couldn’t just do nothing.”

The other boy looks down, face falling and voice sounding unbelievably timid if he was who Izuku thought he was. “For what it’s worth, I’d still like to thank you.” This boy stands then, hands reaching out to gather a thick brown cloth – a cloak ­– Izuku had never seen until now. Looking at the boy now, he was every bit as dignified as he had been in his animal form.

It makes Izuku’s heart stutter for two, very different reasons. The boy in front of him was incredibly handsome, yes, but . . .

“Are you going to kill me now?” Izuku asks, his words surprising him with their steadfast tone. It was a reasonable conclusion, the only conclusion that his logic lead to. The boy in front of him was undeniably whom Izuku belonged to now. And not just for any purpose. Yes, the gods were benevolent, but as unpredictable as the skies were, they could be equally malevolent. Such was the nature of the gods.

The boy looks at him curiously and – ah.

Izuku almost regrets saying his thoughts aloud. The boy leans forward, deliberately, not close enough to touch, but close enough that Izuku could easily touch a shoulder if he reached with his arm. If his life weren’t conceivably at risk, he might’ve fancied that thought for much longer.

The eyes trained intently at him are both harsh and yet pitying at the same time. But it’s the words this god says that for once, accomplishes a rare feat, rendering Izuku totally speechless.

“Why would I do that to my husband?”

Izuku’s eyes narrow and widen at a dangerous rate. The gods must truly enjoy seeing him suffer so.

His jaw drops before he remembers how disrespectful and slightly unattractive that must look. To his new and supposed husband, no less. “Your . . . your what?”

“My husband.” This time, it’s the other boy’s face that slightly contorts into a semblance of confusion. “Is that not what you’re here for? Not just anyone can be allowed passage up this mountain the way you were.”

Passage up the mountain?

Then . . . then all those times he’d felt a whisper of guidance, pushing him around particularly treacherous passes and ice-slicked expanses . . .

Izuku groans in realization.

He allows the weight of his head to fall into his hands, breathing deeply as he does so. This was wrong. All very wrong, and yet it made so much sense – just like everything that has happened to him so far since he was chosen by the elders to ascend the mountain. “Your village,” Izuku looks up, the other boy taking it upon himself to fill the silence again. “. . . does it worship the Yuuei pantheon?”

“Yes.” Izuku nods.

“And what were you told?”

Izuku falls back to lean against hard damp rock, letting the village elders’ words flow through him as easily as their memorized stories. “That every hundred years, a sacrifice must be sent to the god of this mountain, our sacred ritual place, to protect us. Until the next hundred years that is,” he adds.

For the first time since they’ve met today the boy – no, the god – before him cracked emotion that ironically looked more human than heavenly deity. “A sacrifice,” the god repeats impassively, almost as if this ordeal could not be more entirely unamusing.

“Yes?”

“Gods.” That’s new. Izuku didn’t know gods could swear at themselves. Or was it for themselves? Or was this a young god who wasn’t fully educated on the etiquette of godhood which probably had included not swearing in their own name? But this mountain had been around for just a little bit longer than his village. If the stories were to be believed anyway. It was impossible for this god to be so young, even for immortals like them. Or perhaps humanity had underestimated the aging process of the gods, that they were indeed born as is and stayed –

“You’re mumbling, you know.”

Gods damn it.

Izuku yelps as if stung, immediately stumbling over his words again for an excuse, an explanation, but the god just raises his hand to brush it off. Despite that, the cave floor was starting to look really interesting right now. Which, in hindsight clear as day, he should have regretted. He wouldn’t have missed the small grudging smile on the god’s face otherwise.

It’s the frustrated sigh afterwards that gives Izuku the courage to look up again. “Alright,” the god said, baffled in the way he subconsciously clenched and released a fist as he spoke. “So you’re telling me that you were expecting to die by my hand and yet you stayed?”

Izuku nods.

“Even after I revealed myself to you?”

Izuku nods again.

A tick of quiet settles between them.

“. . . have you no sense of self-preservation at all?”

That sparks something into Izuku, but it isn’t righteous anger at all. It felt less like molten lead, but instead it was something sprightlier. Easier, even. It was almost as if the god himself invited him into a playful match of banter, dual-colored eyes almost twinkling with jest. And Izuku has no idea why, but for the first time since he’d set foot on this mountain, the heavy weight on his chest felt lighter. He felt freer. “Hey! I wasn’t the one traipsing on Death Mountain with a bleeding leg.”

“Death Mountain?” the god parrots, almost as if he couldn’t comprehend how . . . creative, for lack of a better term, humans were for what was probably a sacred mountain to his kind. Ah, yes, indeed. Truly, that was completely and unequivocally solid evidence of Midoriya Izuku’s race.

Still, it was a long story on Izuku’s part, if not a rather obvious one. “Whatever,” he shoots back reflexively, grin wide on his face. It’s there that it dawns on him how disrespectful he must be to a god – to his god, he imagines unwittingly, a not so unpleasant tingle crawling down to the base of his spine – so Izuku opts to peek at him through his lashes, searching as subtly as he can for any sign of anger, and . . .

And he’s greeted with a look that he’s never seen directed at him before. And quite frankly, it takes his breath away. “You’re quite brave.”

For accepting his challenge or for binding his wound, Izuku doesn’t know. Still, it’s all he could do not to blush to the roots of his hair. Good gods. Is this what it feels like to be a living human furnace? Would definitely not recommend. He turns his gaze away, not trusting himself enough to speak at this moment, and fervently hopes the small smile tugging at his lips is enough of a reply.

Another bout of silence stretches between them. This time, there was a charge in the air, and yet it was more comfortable than before.

“Look, this is a long story but,” the god begins, breaking his own state of thought. “Huh. I think you should come with me.”

Izuku’s eyebrows furrow, curious, a tiny ember of his earlier urge to fight coming to life. “Where exactly are we going?” he asks as he returns all he had brought out from his satchel back in the best way he could.

“To my home.” The god throws on a thick vest, reclasping his cloak before staring somberly into Izuku’s eyes, the air previously lighthearted around them suddenly weighing heavy and cold.

“There’s one more reason why no one’s ever returned from ritual places like this. You’d stray from the path if you tried because your guide to the passage would be lost. The cold would kill you in hours, and if it didn’t, lack of food would if lack of water didn’t do it first. The mountain’s spelled that way to . . .”

“To keep anyone from running back.” Izuku finishes, voice falling to a whisper at the end. It’s not that he hadn’t resigned himself to an end away from his village, from his mother. But that he would continue to live, but to live without their presence, was a future he never thought he would have to face. True, he was assured his life, and yet somehow . . .

Somehow it feels worse than the nauseating feeling of dread when he’d been chosen.

“Tell me something,” the god says when the two of them stand ready at the cave’s entrance.

“What’s that?”

“When we met, you seemed fully ready to fight.” The god faces him in full now, his scar pale pink in the cold. “But even then, your eyes were calm. Resigned even. Why is that?”

“Ah.” Izuku smiles, a watery one that he’s sure does not reach his eyes. “I �� You already know, I thought I was going to be a sacrifice, right? It isn’t exactly the best future for anyone.” It’s too much to look at the god’s unfathomable eyes, but Izuku forces himself to anyway. “But I . . . it was what my village needed.” What his mother needed.” And I thought that if I could do this, if I could make it easier for them, then why wouldn’t I? But some part of me wanted to live. I wanted to fight because, gods this is embarrassing now, but . . . I wanted to know why it had to be this way.” Whatever warmth remained in the cave seemed to have seeped away, turning into inhospitable frigidness.

The god looks at him then, eyes unreadable. He steps closely to Izuku, their arms almost brushing, before a strange sort of heat starts to envelop Izuku, warming him to his very bones. Now this, this almost made him sigh in relief. Of what, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t entirely certain either if this came from the god’s body or from a magic he possessed. It didn’t matter either way, because that itself . . .

It calmed his heart with a different kind of warmth. Comfort, Izuku realizes with a start. This god was trying to comfort him.

“For what it’s worth, I apologize. Neither did I have a choice in the matter as well.” Strands of white and red fall against blue and greyish brown. “But I can’t leave you here for more reasons than one.” It meets him then, striking eyes against his own green ones. “I’m sure you’ve felt it too, haven’t you? Since we’ve met, you and I, as god and mortal on this mountain.” There’s a quiver in the god’s voice that Izuku can’t pinpoint, one that makes him tremble for no reason at all.

They’re bound to one another.

Of course. Not as lord and offering as Izuku had expected, but as two souls joined to one another. His heart races.

If this was what it took to ensure the survival of his village, of his friends and his mother, if this was what would safeguard his friends’ happiness, his mother’s protection, and his people’s lives – then perhaps to be married off to an immortal wasn’t the worst of it after all.

“I believe it would be right for us to know the other’s name. It wouldn’t sit well to have a married couple not know that, don’t you think?” The line of the god’s cheek and brow stood smoothly impassive, but it was his eyes that pulled Izuku to him effortlessly, as easy as breathing. Dark and light, so commanding because they were so different, heavy and scrutinizing and yet still alive with a flicker of something Izuku would never have thought to see on the face of a god. “My name is Shouto.”

That something jumps into his chest, blazing like a comet through his body and singing sweetly underneath his skin. “Shouto”, he whispers, testing the name on his tongue and pleased to find how easily it curled on his lips. A name to the face. It made Shouto realer, more tangible. It made Izuku feel like a final stone had come loose, setting into motion a great number of things he didn’t know he was ready to face. But he was who he was for a reason, and who was he if he didn’t endure? His eyes now bright with fierce determination, he smiles, small, but resolute, electricity dancing in his eyes – and Shouto must have noticed because he gifts Izuku a look that makes him feel worthy.

He’ll soldier on like he always did. Like he always will.

“I’m Izuku.”

 ______________________________________________________

Would you like your work to be featured in the 365 Days of TodoDeku Project? Apply here! (≧∇≦)/

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

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TUMBLR CHAPTER INDEX

QUEST 03: LET SLEEPING GODS LIE

QUEST SUMMARY:

Jahaan stumbles upon a newly excavated chamber, one that a charismatic young stranger claims to be where Guthix resides under the earth. However, once this knowledge becomes commonplace, many different factions come to a head, either to protect the sleeping god, wake him, or destroy him…

CHAPTER 3: BUT WE CAN FIGHT

In the first storage room, Thaerisk and Chaeldar stood ready, determination biting back any fears they had as to whom might be charging towards them. From the sounds echoing throughout the chamber, whomever was coming towards their wing was very big, and very slow. It sounded like they were using their immense strength to force their way through the rock. Perhaps they didn’t have the intelligence to try any other way.

Stomp

Stomp

Stomp

Thaerisk and Chaeldar kept their guard up, waiting.

Before long, the wall broke down as a giant green-skinned beast broke through, shoulder first, the large animal horns on his sturdy helmet being some of the first things to enter the room. He wore a necklace of skulls, with more being attached to his belt, and any clothing he wore was crudely crafted from something dead. Standing at ten feet tall, this was General Graardor, leading a small group of goblin foot soldiers.

“Turn back now,” Thaerisk ordered, his voice a blade. “You will go no further.”

The ogre-like beast laughed. “Graardor turn back? Tiny human has tiny brain! Puny balance god stop wars returning. Bandos - almighty war god - desire battle, so Graardor create it. Graardor smash Guthix skull with mighty fists! Graardor be best general of almighty war god! Squishy human and others will not stop me! Attack!”

Despite being a druid, Thaerisk had been trained in magic from a very early age. Against the brute strength and lumbering combat coming from the goblins and even Graardor himself, magic was an incredibly effective strategy. Using the runes in his possession, he cast a fearsome earth-based spell that knocked the general back for six. Meanwhile, Chaeldar dealt with the goblin forces. Even though she was vastly outnumbered, Chaeldar's size meant that she could move very quickly, making her well-suited against a slow enemy, like goblins were. Her weapon of choice was a small spear.

Meanwhile, in another storage room, the sounds of a manic scuttering suggested that there were multiple enemies trying to break through, and the foul stench of the undead could be smelled.

Before long, Zemouregal forced his way into the chamber, with skeletons and zombies behind him, his mindless legion.

Jahaan spoke calmly, with a strange glint in his eyes. “Zemouregal. You're late. Graardor is already in the process of being slaughtered by the Guthixians. You’d be wise to turn tail before you follow him.”

Zemouregal roared a laugh. “Hah! General Graardor… I wouldn't be surprised if the lumbering fool skewered himself on his own weapon. I would suggest you stand aside so I may get to Guthix sooner, but I think I'd prefer to destroy you and your weak companions first. A little payback for your intrusion in the Ritual.”

With an evil smirk, Zemouregal raised his hand, causing his undead minions to charge forwards, and the battle commenced.

As he was slow and fragile, Cres himself was no fighter. Therefore, he used his creations to fight for him, replicas of the creatures Jahaan had encountered earlier. Summoning an entire troop of automatons, Cres readied himself for the impending battle.

When Commander Zilyana broke through and an entire troop of white knights and Saradominist warriors followed, he felt his chances of victory slip away quite fast. Nevertheless, he was prepared to fight to the end, for Guthix.

“Step aside, creatures,” Zilyana ordered. The woman was an icyene, an ancient race of winged beings, and the leader of Saradomin’s army. “The glory of Saradomin demands it!”

Creaking his limbs into an offensive posture, Cres stated, “Your god’s ‘glory’ matters nothing here.”

Eyes narrowing, Zilyana drew her thin sword and held it aloft. “So be it. For Saradomin!”

One should underestimate the Valluta due to her appearance at their peril. Her shell was near impenetrable, and she had a surprising amount of speed and agility for someone of her size and build. Fiara too, was a fiery opponent, her far-reaching legs and insect-like tail all coordinated into a perfect rhythm, a dance of melee prowess.

The ones to break through and into their storage room were an Armadylian troop, led by Kree'arra, a graceful avatar of Armadyl. Kree'arra was a majestic winged being, feathers of pearl and gold that shone like fine silk even in the low-light of the cavern. He was a powerful ranger, armed with a formidable crossbow. Just as well the two tallest fighters were the ones to battle the ones that could fly.

Kree'arra settled on the ground, his small band of warriors behind him. “You should not be here, creatures of Guthix,” he warned, his tone soft and solemn. “It is not safe. Please, leave now.”

“We cannot do that,” Fiara replied, her voice measured. “Who are you? An aviansie of Armadyl, I gathered, but why are you defying your god’s code of justice and peace in favour of your intrusion here today?”

Exhaling a heavy, weighted breath, Kree'arra responded, “Believe us, bloodshed should always be the last resort… but Guthix is preventing Armadyl’s return. He… he has been missing for so long now. I find myself unable to recall his face to describe him.”

The Valluta declared, “I know of your kind, friend. You do not have to continue here today. Leave, and uphold your god’s principles. It is what he would want.”

There was a long, drawn-out pause, and even the avanasie warriors behind him actually believed Kree’arra was considering it. Alas, instead he withdrew his crossbow and steadied his gaze. “I’m sorry, but this is the way it has to be… for Armadyl…”

It didn't take long before Jahaan could coax Zemouregal to fight on his level; knowing he was at a slight disadvantage battling magic with a couple of swords, he goaded the Mahjarrat into duelling with him on his level.

“You think that your blue toothpicks stand a chance against me?” Zemagoural had challenged, summoning a black and steel two-handed blade into his palms.

Granted, Zemouregal was a skilled swordsman with great prowess, but he was a better mage. Now, Jahaan had a fighting chance.

While Death focused on the undead army, Jahaan did his best to keep Zemouregal at bay. Much to his relief and, frankly, surprise, he was succeeding.

The two of them leapt forward, their swords connecting with a fearsome clash. Zemouregal managed to have the strength advantage against Jahaan, pushing him backwards and gaining the upper hand almost instantly. Jahaan rolled out of the way as the black sword struck down into the space he'd occupied almost a millisecond ago. Each strike of sword on sword roared with a pugnacious applause.

The two clashed for ages, Zemouregal growing increasingly furious at his inability to land a killing blow on Jahaan. Unfortunately for him, this led to reckless attacks, misplaced swings and lunges that were far from the mark.

Zemouregal swiped for Jahaan's neck, but the young man caught it with his two smaller blades and twisted the sword from Zemouregal's grip. Using the momentary shock to his advantage, Jahaan sliced a deep cut into Zemouregal's thigh, causing the Mahjarrat to crumble to the ground. Before he knew what was happening, Jahaan had one sword trained at his throat and the other raised directly above his chest.

"Wait!" Zemouregal cried out as Jahaan went to drive the blade into his heart. Fighting for composure, Zemouregal took several deep breaths. "Fine. You win. Your precious God of Balance can live another day."

Jahaan smiled, smugly. “Nice seeing you again, Zemouregal. Let’s do this again sometime.”

“You can count on it, mortal.”

Death escorted him to the next chamber, where he could teleport away without the magic restrictions surrounding the current wing. As soon as he was comfortable at seeing him retreat - feeling the pride that comes with small victories - that happiness was cut in half with the sound of a crash and then a great many footsteps clattering into the main chamber. Quickly, Death and Jahaan hurried in to see Commander Zilyana and her Saradominist forces engaging the druids, Chaeldar and Thaerisk in combat. 

“The Bandosians were a piece of monkfish!” Chaeldar declared, nimbly weaving her way between a Saradominist’s attacks. They came a little too close for comfort; she resorted to blocking with her blade, but physical strength was not on her side. “These critters, not so much.”

Juna added, “Thank goodness you made when you did.”

Charging forward to lock swords with one of the Saradominist soldiers, Jahaan remembered that Cres was defending the wing that had been breached, and imagining the worst, worriedly inquired, “What of Cres and his creations?”

Kaqemeex was tending to a wounded druid when he replied, “My druids are tending to him, but being made of stone and bark instead of flesh and blood, there is little we can do to help him…”

“And the Void Knights?”

“Still fighting the aviansie,” Juna informed.

Jahaan ordered, “Death, go assist the Valluta and the Void Knights with the aviansie. If they break through as well, our chances are practically nothing.”

With a nod of his faceless hood, Death charged into the chamber, scythe at the ready.

The battle raged on for who knows how long. Jahaan got lost in the combat, fighting anyone in white armour with a star on their chest. Before long, Death and the Void Knights returned to the chamber, having driven the aviansie into retreating. The playing field was becoming much more level at this point.

Jahaan took a stab at Commander Zilyana, but before their clash could begin, a small explosion rocked the room, emitting from the direction of the western wing.

Into the chamber emerged only three figures, but they were among the most fearsome the Guardians had encountered as of yet. The first, Nex, a name derived from the Infernal word for ‘murder’. She was one of Zaros’ most powerful weapons of war, and one of the most featured creatures in all of Gielinor. Skin red like lava, she was covered in jagged horns and spikes across her chest and back, sharp enough to skewer anyone that came close enough to her. Atop her scaly head were five long horns, curling behind her like waves of hair. Her wings were a gradient of crimson and ashen black, tattered and torn at the edges, yet with bones in them strong enough to snap a mortal in two. The second, Char, a fire enchantress in the service of Zaros. While she was humanoid in figure, her wild hair defied gravity, shaped in curves and spikes, and her eyes glowed fire. Her palms were still glowing from the remnants of a fire-spell she must have recently cast.

Those figures Jahaan had only heard about from legends told to him. The third, however, Jahaan knew personally, as did Commander Zilyana, who disengaged from her fight to approach the three Zarosians. “Azzanadra,” she looked down her nose at the Mahjarrat. “I should have expected you Zarosians to lurk in the shadows, afraid to face those stronger than you.”

Nex hissed, “You watch your tongue, Zilyana, or I will rip it from your mouth.”

“You presume to speak to me, Nex?” Zilyana challenged. “You, who has been locked in your icy prison for thousands of years. Do you feel ready for a real battle again?”

“It seems you are outnumbered, Zilyana. It would be wise to back down,” Azzanadra advised, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “After all, had you not been so desperate to reach Guthix, I'm sure you would have noticed us shadowing your steps. Perhaps you would have thought twice before destroying half the defence, kindly clearing our path.”

“You dare-!”

Igniting her palms again, Char growled, “Oh, we are wasting time, Azzanadra. Let us just kill her and be done with it!”

“Calm, Char,” Azzanadra eased. “It is all in hand. It is no use fighting anymore, Zilyana. It appears we have a friend planted closer to Guthix than any of us could ever be. Jahaan, would you be so kind as to lead us to Guthix?”

Upon seeing Commander Zilyana square up to Azzanadra and the other Zarosians, Jahaan had picked his battles closer to the confrontation, interested as to how the two volatile parties would react. When his name was mentioned, he kicked the Saradominist soldier to the side, badly slicing the man’s arm as he did. “I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, Azzanada.”

Juna shot Jahaan a surprised, troubling look. “You’re acquainted with a Mahjarrat? After all they did to your people?”

“It was a long time ago,” Jahaan explained. “I’d been enlisted to find a treasure inside one of the Kharidian pyramids. Finding Azzanadra was an… unexpected by-product. He told me his side of the story; I decided not to hold an aged grudge. Why should I?”

Disappointment evident in her tone, Juna shook her head and replied, “I did not see you as one to betray your principals so easily, human.”

At this, Jahaan swung around. “Hey, I’ve been risking my life to defend Guthix with you. The God Wars are long since over, and I’d be a stubborn idiot to hold onto the supposed ‘rage of my people’.”

“Thank you, Jahaan,” Azzanadra smiled in appreciation. “Now, while I would like to continue discussing our ideologies and histories at length, I’m afraid there are more pressing matters at hand. Guthix must first be awoken.”

“Ah, now THAT I can’t let you do.”

Azzanadra crinkled his brow. “We do not wish to kill him, Jahaan. We Zarosians believe that Guthix can be reasoned with, allowing the edicts to fall long enough for our master’s return. Besides, think of all we could learn from such a being!”

Commander Zilyana snorted in disgust. “Ignorant fool. You really think Guthix will be reasoned with? No, we must kill him - only then can the TRUE lord, Saradomin, return to Gielinor.”

“No, Guthix must NOT be disturbed,” Juna maintained, fiercely. She turned to Jahaan. “What say you, human? Please do not tell me you will side with the Mahjarrat once more.”

Pointedly ignoring the undertone in the snake’s hiss, Jahaan firmly replied, “Guthix must not be awoken, and definitely not killed. That’s where I stand.”

Azzanadra’s shoulders sagged. “Jahaan, surely not…”

“I'm afraid so. It’s the only way.”

“This saddens me greatly. I considered you a friend, Jahaan. However, Guthix must be awoken, for Zaros. As much as it pains me, if this means challenging you then… that must be the case.”

“Azzanadra, you sentimental fool,” Char spat. “If the human stands against Zaros, then he stands against us. Any obstacle must be destroyed in flame and fire.”

Suddenly, the ground began to shake violently, ripping everyone from conversation and combat.

“What's going on?” Kaqemeex tried his best to steady his stance, but ended up falling on his back. A Saradominist soldier tried to take advantage and strike him down, but ended up stumbling forwards and toppling to the ground instead.

Chaeldar cried, “The wall! Look!”

While everyone else was distracted, the door on the tableau wall had lit up before breaking open. However, no-one seemed to be close to it.

“That’s the pathway to Guthix,” Juna hissed, quietly, so only Jahaan could hear. “Go! Defend Guthix! We will keep these forces occupied.”

As soon as she finished talking, Juna lunged at Nex, but the demon was too quick and slashed her ferocious claws deep into Juna’s body, blood pouring from the wound instantly. The druids and the rest of the Guardians fought harder than ever before, Chaeldar challenging Char herself, knowing they were the last line of defence now.

Quickly, Jahaan raced through the hole in the door, sprinting through the chambers as fast as he could. He tightly clutched onto both of his swords, blood dripping from the edges as he ran, creating a crimson trail.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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[owlsshadows]

Ennotana Week (Day 5)

Aug 5: Fantasy ☆ Blue ☆ First

Your Heart on Your Scales 

“Two days ago, a sheep went missing. Yesterday, they found the remains of a cow by the river. And today, little before dawn, Shouyou has finally seen it.”

��Couldn’t he have imagined it?” Chikara asks back, looking at his brother with little hope in his heart.

Tadashi shrugs, and scratching his freckle-covered nose he shakes his head.

“His eyes are sharp,” he mumbles.

“But he’s been looking forward to see a dragon since the moment he heard the legend of the Little Giant!” Chikara tries once more.

“There were claw marks on that cow,” Hisashi says. “You’ve seen them too, Chikara.”

“I think it’s not a question whether it’s a dragon or not,” Kazuhito adds. “But rather, how the Chief will act.”

The village of Karasuno is a secluded settlement deep in the forest, surrounded by mountains from the East and the North. Its winters are harsh, the summers scorching hot; the farmers’ hard work is exposed to the rough weather conditions just as often as it is to the beasts coming from the woods. The forest itself is an ancient one, with trees so thick and old, sunlight scarcely reaches the ground. It crawls up deep into the mountains; its clearances, caves inhabited mostly by bears, deer and wild boars.

It has been three, almost four years since the village has last seen a dragon.

It killed poultry, burned down the bridge connecting the village with the fields and the Black Castle, and the girl from the Tanaka household went missing.

Back then, as tradition dictates, the Chief has ordered to sacrifice a virgin in order to save the village from further danger. They called it the dragon’s bride; an offering to the mighty creature in exchange of the safety of everyone else. The council of elders chose Kazuhito’s sister back then to carry out the ritual – her life was only saved thanks to a knight from the Black Castle, going by the nickname Little Giant. Allegedly, he fought the dragon and died, dragging the creature with him to the afterlife. Chikara doesn’t quite know how much of the story is true. He is not Shouyou, after all, to believe all the gossips and tales as if they were immediate truth – he’d rather believe the facts and what he has seen with his own eyes.

Back then, upon Saeko’s disappearance, the whole village went into an uproar. The Chief had a clash with the knights, who were against holding the ritual, up to the point where the Little Giant and his comrades walked up to Kazuhito’s home to safeguard the girl selected by the elders. Later that night, the Little Giant took his horse and galloped into the forest. He has never been seen again, nor was the dragon.

Up until the day before yesterday.

And now they chose Kiyoko as the dragon’s bride.

Their neighbor Kiyoko, who has helped Chikara and Tadashi so much after their mother fell ill. Kiyoko, who silently supported them. Kiyoko, the sweet, strong Kiyoko, who was like an older sister to them.

“No matter what, we can’t let the crazy old man kill Kiyoko-san,” Chikara says finally.

“But what can we do?” Hisashi asks. “We are not knights. We dropped out, remember?”

“There must be something even someone like us can do.”

“I’m sure that the black knights won’t let it happen,” Tadashi adds, meekly. “Captain Daichi knows how to deal with the Chief. He can…”

“Yeah, probably,” Chikara cuts in. “But we can’t know for sure, right?"

“I can try to see with Tsukki,” his brother offers. Chikara for one, can’t get angry with him. Pure, innocent Tadashi, of course he trusts the blond magic caster, he has saved him as a kid from bullies. He idolizes him.

But what can he, Chikara do? Of course, he likes the knights as well, and he would like to trust them, he really would like to. But when he decided that training was too hard and ran away, none of them came knocking on his door to bring him back.

And that’s him blaming someone else for his own weaknesses.

He regrets dropping out, of course he does. But not everyone can be a hero. Someone needs to be a farmer, too.

“For now… let’s return to the fields,” he murmurs, standing from the table. “Kazuhito, Hisashi, thanks for coming.”

“I am with Tadashi on this one,” Kazuhito says as goodbye. “They didn’t let the old man kill my sister. They will save Kiyoko-san too.”

“Have some faith,” Hisashi adds.

Chikara nods, waving after them as they leave.

It’s not their fault, yet Chikara can’t help but be frustrated at the world. It his ideology, there’s nothing worse than feeling helpless and to be forced to rely on someone.

The fault is with the dragon, be it the same or a different one, who attacks their village and steals their cattle.

The fault is with the Chief, that crazy old man, and his rotten book of traditions.

“God of Crows, help us,” Chikara murmurs, unaware of his brother’s intent gaze on him.

Tadashi is an observant kid. He was only twelve during the last dragon attack, but he still remembers it clearly. He remembers the forlorn face of Ryuu when they met him after the disappearance of his sister. He remembers the panic on Kazuhito’s face when the sacrifice has been announced. And he recalls, before it all, the trembling Chikara, barely thirteen, arriving home in wet clothes one day. It was before the disappearance of Saeko. Before the Little Giant showed up in his shining black armor. Before the whole village went crazy.

It was Chikara who saw the dragon for the first time back then, and he fell into the river in fear.

Tadashi remembers it all, because it is their secret – one of the very few things his brother never shared with his best friends.

A decision forms in his head, one that could possibly solve everything.

“I will speak with Tsukki!” he jumps, running out the door.

 ☆☆☆

 Tadashi is out of the room before Chikara could notice.

“Hey, wait!” he calls after him, but it’s too late. If something, Tadashi has long legs, and can run fast. “Shit.”

Stopping his brother from doing something stupid is not frequently needed from Chikara – Tadashi is a scaredy cat unlike his friend, Shouyou, who would jump head first into trouble. Chikara doubts that Tadashi would do something entirely stupid. He is a good kid, a meek kid, someone who panics often, but otherwise a fast thinker. Chikara doubts his brother would do something crazy – yet when he reaches the main road, and notices his brother’s figure running towards the village instead of the Black Castle, he has a bad premonition.

Speaking with the knights is one thing. Speaking with the Chief is another.

Chikara quickens his steps, swearing beneath his teeth.

If only he continued training with the knights, he wouldn’t be in such a vulnerable state. But let alone sword fighting, he couldn’t even learn how to ride a horse. Even his archery was mediocre. He noticed early that he could never be as fast or strong as Ryuu, or as skillful and wild as Noya.

He was simply no good.

Someone needed to tend to the fields, too.

Crossing the river, Chikara meets the old Ukai followed by a pack of young kids eager to listen to his heroic tales, and it sparks a memory in him, a tale he heard in his childhood, one that his late grandma used to tell them before he fell asleep.

The tale was about a group of younglings, who wandered off to the forest and deep into the mountains in search for the dragon’s treasures. Chikara’s grandmother was a talented storyteller – Tadashi and he was always on edge with every twist and turn – and she had seemingly never-ending fantasy to continue the tale. She would always pick it up where she left off the night before, and include new threats, new dangers the imaginary adventurers had to face.

If not for the crazy elements of magic and curses his grandma was highly fascinated with, Chikara could have bet that the story was that of their ancestors, Sawamura the Heroic, the Crazed Tanaka, Suga the Swift and Ennoshita the Wise. They were said to be the founders of Karasuno, back in the day, who arrived to the valley after a long adventure. Out of them, only Ukai the Resilient is alive now – and his tales, they never quite match those of Chikara’s grandma’s.

In Ukai’s tales, there was never a curse befalling the warriors. They were fearlessly fighting beasts, using their numbers, bravery and cunning to overcome any obstacle.

In his grandmother’s, there was one, the bravest and strongest, who decided to sacrifice himself for the others and take up the curse that came with the fortune they have found.

Arriving to the main square, as a shadow catches his attention, Chikara wonders whether the dragon’s curse is really that fictional after all.

Looking up to the sky, he spots it almost immediately. A grand, grey beast flying in the twilight, the last rays of sunshine glimmering blue on its scales.

It’s a different one, he finds, from the first dragon he has seen. That one seemed smaller, and not that it couldn’t grow in the past three years, but it had a soft golden sheen to it. This one looks much more metallic, as if it was flying in armor.

“Dragon!” he hears Shouyou’s shriek from the sentry tower, along with the bells signaling danger.

Like a disturbed beehive, the villagers start swarming in search of cover. Children cry, animals screech, panic and disorder rises. In the chaos that suddenly engulfs him, Chikara looks around, searching the crowds for his brother.

“Tadashi!” he shouts, but his voice gets lost in the commotion. He’s mind goes blank, frantic. His steps wobble, bumping into people on his way. “Tadashi!”

The dragon flies past the village, heading towards the forest. The bells go quiet, abruptly so. As the village goes into a shocked state of silence, Chikara lifts his head towards the sky where the dragon disappeared.

He has seen a dragon before.

At age thirteen, he wandered off, looking for a sheep stayed away from their farm.

He met the dragon in the forest behind the village, on a clearance by the river. It was a majestic creature, grand and elegant. It picked up the sheep Chikara was trying hard to get to return home, and swallowed it whole.

The dragon has seen him too, turning its giant head, puffing smoke in his face. He remembers his own reflection, small and frail and trembling in its huge, chestnut colored eyes.

The dragon nudged him with its nose, as if it was ready to play with its prey. Chikara jumped, faster than ever, into the river, swimming with the flow down towards the village.

The dragon didn’t follow him.

It could be sheer luck, or the dragon’s preferences, but he survived.

Now, at age seventeen, he highly doubts he would have such a chance again, should they meet again.

“Tadashi!” he calls out again, looking for his brother at the marketplace, along the small shops, at the house of the Chief. No one has seen him.

As his last resolve, Chikara walks up to the Black Castle – maybe, just maybe, if Tadashi was to take a detour towards the village, but then went for the castle – only to be greeted with an even bigger commotion than that of the village.

The knights are standing in a circle, surrounding someone in the middle, who seems to be shouting. As Chikara pushes his way through to see what’s happening, he finds Kiyoko, dressed head-to-toe in black armor, helmet in hand and her father’s sword on her side.

“We can’t let a woman in our ranks!” Chikara hears someone in the crowd.

“She passed the entrance exam!” Knight Koushi replies, lifting his arm between the shouting boy and the girl. “We have no rule that says that a woman can’t join us, and you have no right to deny her if she fights better than you!”

“Come on, people!” Captain Daichi raises his voice, clapping his hands together. “We have no time fighting over who gets to be a knight or not. We have bigger problems to face.”

“But she is…” comes the pained voice of the first boy. He seems to be new, for Chikara not to recognize him.

“Stop it!” Daichi grumbles. “A dragon has been seen over the sky this evening and one of our men has gone missing.”

“One of their men…” Chikara mumbles.

“It’s Ryuu,” he hears the knight right next to him, and as he glances down, his eyes are met with Noya’s worried glance. “After what happened with his sister when the last dragon came, I’m afraid he is after this one on his own.”

“Oh, for the God of Crows,” Chikara hisses in reply.

“A dragon is here,” Kiyoko starts speaking after the general murmuring dies off a little. To her voice, even the last ones speaking go silent. “The Chief wants to offer it a sacrifice. He selected me. But if I have to die, I would rather die fighting it myself. So please. Let me be a knight of yours for now. I promise, I will fight the dragon and bring back Tanaka.”

“Kiyoko-san…”

“Kiyoko!”

“I’ve never heard her speak this much before,” Noya murmurs beside Chikara, sparkles in his eyes.

“This reminds me,” Chikara says, grabbing onto the shoulder of the short knight. “Have you seen Tadashi?”

“Tadashi?” calls another voice, and as Chikara turns, he is faced with Tsukishima the sorcerer’s apprentice. “He left a note earlier today. He said he wanted to meet me…”

The tall boy goes pale in an instant, fingers gripping on his staff.

“Where? He wanted to meet where?” Chikara presses.

“In the forest.”

“No.”

“There’s a clearing by the river,” Tsukishima continues, eyes wide and voice trembling. “We tend to meet up there. He is learning magic from me.”

“No,” Chikara repeats, his breath leaving him empty. As if he exhaled his soul, he stands in the castle, amidst all the commotion, as a vacant shell. His legs go numb, arms shaking by his sides. “I’m going in.”

He’s not waiting for reply or approval as he turns on his heels. He hears Noya calling after him, hears the cry of the sorcerer as he notifies his captain of the situation. He hears Kiyoko’s shriek.

Saving her, who seems to be able to save herself quite well, gets pushed to the back of his mind. Another thought occupies him now, overwhelming him.

His little brother. His lanky brother, who dared to outgrow him. His brother, who is bothered by his freckles and lack of athleticism, might be alone in the forest with the beast.

 ☆☆☆

 Night tends to arrive to the valley unannounced. As the sun sets behind the mountains, light lingers for a while, painting the village in a twilight that blurs away the sharpness of lines and melts the horizon into the forest.  After a long, lingering moment of goodbye, the pink fades from the horizon and the real darkness comes in suddenly and mercilessly, taking away all colors and all shapes. The forest becomes a maze of darkness and silence, where one can hear his own breathing echoed between the ancient trees.

Chikara walks slowly. He knows this place by heart, even if he has not crossed the border of the forest for the last three years. His feet take him forward, memories surfacing with each step. He’s afraid beyond belief, but he goes deeper, squinting to distinguish the trees from the darkness.

As the moon rises, and its light gets filtered through the leaves, it paints the path in marble white. Chikara feels as if he walked on lace, or one of those intricate crocheted tablecloths from the Chief’s home.

It’s just before the clearing that he hears it – the rustling of wings, the cracking of dry wood under the heavy feet of the monster, a male voice groaning painfully.

Chikara flies through the trees without thinking, arriving on the meadow in three big steps.

It’s not Tadashi.

The pained face, painted unhealthy white by the moonshine, the arms, fingers digging into the ground, the boy crawling out from the woods, heaving heavily – it’s Ryuu.

The one Chikara thought of as is biggest rival back in his days of knight training – same age, similar physique, yet Ryuu just happened to be faster, stronger, more skilled in everything they ever tried. They grew up together, only for Chikara to draw apart from him during their days in the Black Castle. Ryuu was always shining. His positive outlook and never-ending resolve made Chikara respect and admire him – moreover, he charmed him.

And once Chikara realized his feelings, he understood that the only reason he stayed in the training programme, even after all the failures, was to see Ryuu’s smile. And once he realized how futile his efforts were, and how tiny his chance was at ever earning Ryuu’s attention – he dropped out.

After all, someone needs to tend to the fields.

The bile of his past decisions not quite leaving him, Chikara runs across the glade to reach for his friend.

“Ryuu! Are you injured?”

The boy looks up at him, his grey eyes darkening as he recognizes him.

“Chi… kara,” Ryuu hisses. “Go away.”

“Are you injured?” Chikara repeats. “Did it catch you? I heard the dragon nearby…”

“Go… away,” Ryuu says, gripping Chikara’s wrist.

Strong, hard fingers curl around his skin, claws grazing its surface. Looking down, Chikara sees grey scales covering Ryuu’s hands, crawling up his arm. A thumb comes up to caress the inside of his arm, ending in a long, grey nail that could double as a dagger any day.

“I have nothing to be afraid of here,” Ryuu friend tells him, “but myself.”

“You are the dragon!” Chikara hisses, tearing himself away from Ryuu and falling on his back. The throaty noise coming from his friend is barely human, and could hardly be called a laugh.

He crawls further out of the forest – shedding scales, his torso is turning more and more human with every inch he takes. His wings recede into his back, his tail shrinks and disappears above a scaled bottom. He shivers in pain, a deep growl tearing up from his throat before he goes still.

Chikara is stiff, blood frozen in his veins and heart stopped in his chest – he is afraid even to breathe.

Ryuu moves after a short while, shaking the remnants of his scales off. Chikara watches silent as they turn into dust and vanish into thin air before his eyes. It’s not something he can comprehend, and definitely not something he would believe if, let’s say, Shouyou was talking about it.

“We are cursed,” Ryuu says finally, voice barely a whisper.

Chikara needs a few seconds to collect himself – first, reminding himself to take a deep breath, then pinching his face to check whether he’s dreaming. When all checks are done and gone, and Ryuu still lies before him naked on the grass in the moonlight, he finally manages a short “we?”

“Saeko-nee and me.”

It takes some time to digest, some more to think it through. But after all, Chikara is a clever boy, even if he has never managed to understand the art of horse riding.

“So that dragon back then?” he asks.

“Saeko-nee,” Ryuu nods, pulling himself up in a sitting position slowly. “She… she didn’t want to frighten you. She told me to tell you that, once I get the chance.”

“Thanks,” Chikara blinks. Then blinks again.

In front of him sits a bare naked Tanaka Ryuunosuke, looking at him apologetically. He could understand the situation if, let’s say, they were talking about some old prank, or maybe a game of cards where Ryuu cheated.

But they have a conversation about dragons, for the love of crows, just after he has seen his friend transform.

“Have you seen my brother?” he asks then.

“Tadashi?” Ryuu raises a brow. “No.”

“Not even in your… other form?”

“No. No! I wouldn’t harm anyone. I swear.”

“But you’re a dragon.”

“Technically,” Ryuu starts, but he stops mid-sentence.

“Yes?”

“It was my birthday the day before.”

“So? I’m afraid this is not the time for congratulations.”

“No, it’s not,” Ryuu agrees. “The thing is. We are cursed, so on our seventeenth birthday we kinda… turn into a dragon.”

“… sounds great,” Chikara nods.

“It’s because our grandfather couldn’t say no to cursed gold, and he tried to smuggle a pendant out from a dragon’s cave. Or rather, he didn’t try, he did. And proposed to my grandmother with it. And they married, and they had a kid, and my father turned into a dragon when he was seventeen, and…”

“So this is a curse,” Chikara cuts in, and takes a mental note to confront Ukai Ikkei about his tales, and the ones Chikara’s grandmother was telling. “What is the catch? I mean… your father must have returned to the village to have you and your sister… by the way, what about Saeko-san?” There are so many things he wants to ask, and Ryuu seems way too weak to answer them all.

“Saeko-nee is good,” he says. “How do I say it… after Kurokami found her, they kinda… eloped?”

“By Kurokami, you mean the Little Giant?”

“Yeah.”

“So the whole fighting the dragon thing was made up.”

“No, he really thought that Saeko-nee was taken by the dragon… just like you thought that Tadashi was… but I swear, I didn’t even see your brother all day, and… I keep my consciousness in my dragon form, it’s just that I’m way too hungry to miss out on sheep…”

“There’s plenty of deer in the forest.”

“You try to fly up to them next time and return to morning duty next morning,” Ryuu croaks.

“So… you turn into a dragon. When? How? And what is the catch?” Chikara repeats, impatience building up in him.

There’s a long silence before Ryuu speaks, eyes ever apologetic.

“We turn when the sun sets behind the mountains, and return to our true forms at dawn,” he says. “So… we stay in our dragon forms for the night, with the exception of… if…”

Chikara raises an eyebrow.

“So, Saeko-nee was hiding in this cave just above us,” Ryuu continues, speech slightly confounded. “And she hears steps in the forest. She didn’t want to reveal herself as she didn’t want to fight anyone, but Kurokami has a way good sense, so he found her, and there she thought she will have to fight for her life and injure, or worse, kill him…”

Chikara raises his other eyebrow, slowly placing the pieces together.

“Kurokami stands in the entrance of the cave, he raises his sword, lets out a war cry, and the next moment my sister is back to her human form,” Ryuu says, looking anywhere, but at Chikara.

“Why?”

“They… they were kind of in love, actually.”

“So you say that the curse can be broken by the power of love?” Chikara repeats, wary. In any other context, he would brush these kind of fairy tale jokes away, but he has a bad premonition that Ryuu is serious.

“Ye-yeah,” his friend mumbles, avoiding eye contact even more suspiciously than before.

“It’s still night,” Chikara continues, blood once again freezing in his veins. His heart beats so slowly, that he is afraid it will sink into his stomach and he will digest it whole. “But you turned back to normal, because?”

“I was flying, looking for prey,” Ryuu starts. His stomach grumbles to back up his story just at the right moment. “And then I’ve spotted a human walking in the forest. It’s dangerous to be out at night, so I thought it may be someone trying to hunt me down, just like Kurokami did with my Nee… and so I wanted to check out who it was, I hover above the trees, and I see you…”

“And you turn back?”

“I started to turn back in air,” Ryuu says embarrassed. “I almost crashed as I fell.”

“Does this mean that…?” Chikara asks, slowly.

“I’m so sorry!” Ryuu falls to the ground, groaning. “I swear it was not on purpose, and I swear I would never act on it. So please… please keep my secret, and I promise to never bother you again!”

“But you turn into a dragon if you are not by the side of the person you love?” Chikara asks, his innocent tone working just fine, while his insides feel like exploding. The Tanaka Ryuu who charmed him, whose attention he gave up on, actually has feelings for him? Worse things could have happened with a dragon in the picture.

“I will try to be more careful. I know I was seen today, but Daichi-san insisted on me cleaning the stairs, and suddenly the sun went down, and I was transforming in the highest tower of the castle. You have to fly across the village to reach the forest you know!”

“You fly,” Chikara mumbles. And you love me, he adds, mentally, heart bubbling up in his throat.

“Well, I…” Ryuu starts, but he suddenly stops. “People,” he says, pointing at the forest. “From the village.”

Chikara squints, and shortly he sees it too. Lights wobble between the trees. The wind carries the obscure sound of cries.

“One of them is Noya,” Ryuu says, paling.

“They must’ve sent a search party for you,” Chikara says softly.

“That’s bad,” Ryuu replies. “I’m naked. How would I…”

“Question,” Chikara cuts in. “What if you left my side? Would you transform back to a dragon?”

“I… maybe? I don’t know. It’s not something Saeko-nee told me.”

“Hnn. I see. Then, you must have been attacked,” Chikara scratches his chin. “Yeah, and the dragon tore your clothes off.”

“Actually, my clothes are in the castle tower…”

“So! The dragon blew off your clothes and dragged you out here.”

“I don’t think they would believe it…”

“I have one more idea, but that’s scandalous and I’m afraid you won’t like it.”

“Tell me.”

Chikara looks in Ryuu’s desperately shining eye, and feels like he is the biggest jerk in the world. It’s not necessary, to pull a prank on him like this, and it’s absolutely not advisable to stall for time in such a dire situation, but he can’t help himself.

“We sneaked out to the forest to make love,” he says, catching just the right moment as Ryuu turns bright red from head to toe. He takes his sweet revenge for years of losing against his friend, in literally everything they ever competed in, except that one class in astronomy he surprisingly excelled at. He savors the moment, burying it deep within his heart as his one little moment against Ryuu. His childish win, no matter how deep he had to sunk for it. It was so worth it, he decides, looking at his friend’s extensive blush. Then, as the moment passes, he gets serious, patting on Ryuu’s shoulder. “Ok, that wouldn’t work, because everyone knows I was looking for Tadashi. Let me remember I actually learned some magic myself, I might be able to cast an illusion of clothes onto you or something.”

 ☆☆☆

 “Chikara-nii!” Tadashi comes in with a hug so forceful it squeezes all air out of Chikara. “You’re fine!”

“You’re fine,” Chikara counters. “You really gave me a frighten back there, where did you disappear to?”

“Erm, he was with me in the sentry tower,” Shouyou walks up to them, scratching his head in regret. “He came to ask me a question, and next thing we know, a dragon is in the sky, so I asked him to help with the bell… sorry for the caused confusion.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good to see that you are all fine,” Chikara replies.

“It’s good to see you too in one piece,” Captain Daichi says and he walks up to them to give Chikara a warm handshake. “And thank you for finding Ryuu,” he continues in a quiet tone. “After what happened to his sister, the appearance of a dragon must have been a shock for him.”

“Absolutely,” Chikara nods.

Daichi gives him a warm smile and a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and really, this day could’ve went so much worse. Chikara gives a side glance towards the seemingly distraught Ryuu, who stomps in one place, awkwardly placing his hands on the illusion of his shirt sleeves.

“On another note, Captain…” Chikara starts.

“Yes?”

“What would you say if someone would be willing to rejoin the knights?”

From the corner of his eyes, he catches Ryuu turning deep red once again, and it’s better than anything he could imagine for his trip to the forest before.

“You’re always welcome, Chikara,” Daichi replies. “Along with your brother. I’ve heard from Tsukishima that he took up magic lately. We could use a few new spell casters.”

Tadashi pales beside his brother, freckles more prominent than ever.

“Yes sir! I would gladly join, sir!”

Tadashi and Shouyou follows the Captain as the little search party returns to the village. Chikara falls back, lining up with Ryuu and, for some reason, Tsukishima, who decides to walk beside them.

They walk past the bridge when Chikara feels a soft tap on his shoulder.

“He’s not the only spell caster who’s joining us, I assume,” the blond sorcerer whispers. “Nice illusion skills.”

“Oh, crows… please don’t tell anyone,” Chikara replies, earning an amused glance from the tall boy.

“Only if I can monitor the dragon’s curse.”

“So you knew!”

Tsukishima snorts.

“Guess why I joined the Black Castle?”

“I don’t know whether I should be afraid or impressed by your knowledge.”

“Both is fine,” Tsukishima laughs.

“Oh, by the way, if you don’t mind me asking… what happened with the Chief’s plan to sacrifice Kiyoko-san?”

“Ah, that. Kiyoko-san joined the Black Knights, and the village revolted against the crazy old man. Now Ukai Ikkei is the new Chief.”

“I run out to the forest once and so many things happen.”

“You could say it was a fruitful endeavor though,” Tsukishima sneers, theatrically assessing Ryuu from the behind.

“There’s nothing for you to see there.”

“Oh, so possessive, Chikara-dono.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Ryuu asks, squinting in suspicion.

“Discussing future possibilities, I guess?” Tsukishima offers. “Now that both brothers will join us in the castle, where do you think would we lodge them? I mean, Tadashi is learning magic, same as me, so it would make sense if we shared a room, but where do you think would be a good place for our dear Chikara-dono?”

A blush runs across Ryuu’s face again. He is so easy to read.

“I could… I mean, it’s not forcing or anything, but… your old bed is still vacant back in our room,” he says, stuttering.

Chikara sighs, sneaking his hand under Ryuu’s to give it a little squeeze without the sorcerer noticing.

“Sounds good,” he replies.