Chapter Text
It was spring.
Yes, it was the season in which flowers bloom, and this week specifically would be most abundant. It was just hours ago when flowers were still buds, and now almost every tree was covered in fully blossomed petals. Foliage of leaves blocked the harsh sun, shaping patterns of light on the ground. It seemed to shield the freshly grown flowers. Admiring those patterns was a favourite pastime for the Guardian.
Loathing the woods would be unthinkable. He loves it, for it was a duty bestowed upon him the moment he manifested. Yes, he was indeed born for this duty, so he wields his bow with pride, vanquishing the darkness that trailed behind him like muddy footprints. Though it may seem burdensome, the Guardian views it as anything but. This was because even when he took the form of mere wind, it was the woods who cradled and held him close. His manifestation of a physical form was a gift, a gift that permitted him to guard the lands he loved so dearly.
However, nature still has its fair share of cards to play.
Every now and then, a blazing heat would blanket the woods. Fire would spread, trees would collapse, and animals would flee. While it is true that the Guardian heals the forests, his powers aren’t limitless. They could not always pick up where damage left.
And this incarnation of flame—what, or who, in Witch’s good name could spill such wreckage upon Earthbread?
His name was Fire Spirit.
But Fire Spirit had no intentions of destruction, oh heavens, no. In fact, he was the Guardian of Fire himself, molded by the flames of Dragon Valley. It just so happens… that the Guardian he likes to visit often isn’t exactly compatible with the element he was blessed by.
The same blazing heat made its way to the woods today.
“Fire Spirit!” Wind Archer yelled, darting through the forest in search for the flame incarnate. He had to get him to leave as quickly as possible, especially with spring on its way.
A dramatic burst of fire can be seen at a distance.
“Hey there, Wind!”
Wind Archer came to a stop, regulating his breaths and wiping off sweat from his forehead. He clutched his bow tightly.
The Guardian tried to keep himself composed, but all he wants is to smack that shit-eating grin off of Fire Spirit’s face.
“I had informed you endless times not to enter the woods if you can’t control your flames, had I not?” He reprimanded. It was clear to anybody that he was so, so, sick of having this conversation.
Fire Spirit simply shrugged, leaning back against a tree and setting it on fire. The sight made the vein in Wind Archer’s forehead twitch.
“Leave.”
But he was only met with a long groan, Fire Spirit slumping against the tree that was quickly turning to ash.
“I said leave.”
“…Come on, I came all the way here just to see ya! It’s not everyday we meet- Or, well, every year.”
“You say that, yet you don’t listen when I tell you not to ruin my forest.”
“Mm, yeah, but I never mean to.”
The other gives him a harsh glare.
Wind Archer’s anger was cold. Icy—something the Guardian of Fire could never get used to. It pierced through his inflammable soul, contorting into spikes that squeezed and twisted up his insides. And that cold icicle would never melt, no matter how much he’d raise his body temperature, no matter how long he’d wait.
But Fire Spirit endured it, as always. It was no new territory.
“Sorry,” He sighs, clearly not sorry at all.
“Please be serious, Fire Spirit,” Wind Archer sounded somewhat hurt. “Spring is coming soon, and you know how close I hold this forest to my heart. I want the flowers to bloom, not burn.”
Wind Archer grips his bow imperceptibly tighter.
“I’m going to clean this mess now. Upon my return, I hope not to see you around. Goodbye,” and in a heartbeat, he fled.
Oh. So he was serious this time.
Fire Spirit wanders around the woods, careful not to accidentally set anything on fire. He floats, ensuring there is a distance between his foot and the grass.
He was used to receiving an earful each time he came to visit Wind Archer. It seemed as though he was completely unaffected by it, brushing off every insult and declaration of hatred like it was a checklist. But when he goes back to Dragon Valley, he can’t deny that he sleeps a little less comfortably. Because it’s not like he intends to cause chaos, he can’t control it, damnit. He just… kind of misses him.
And it’s not like he doesn’t feel bad about the damage caused to Wind Archer’s beloved forest either. A tinge of guilt always seeps in whenever a lecture is on his way, but it’s easier to play it off like he couldn’t care less instead of openly admitting he’s sorry. So, he did it again today. As usual. Made a mess, “apologised”, and then feigned ignorance.
But today was bad.
Wind Archer never dashed off like that. It made Fire Spirit wonder if he actually…
…Did he hate him now?
“No, nope. That’s stupid,” He muttered to himself, quickly pushing away the invasive thought. The Guardian of Wind hating the Guardian of Fire… the mere suggestion made him sick to his flaming core.
“I mean, how could he ever hate me? We fought hounds together, had barbecue, almost tossed each other into the Dragon Valley volcanoes…”
It’s not that easy to let go of memories, right?
Fire Spirit smacks himself on the head a bit too hard, lighting his body on fire. He panics and quickly drifts upward, away from the leaves. Witches, what is he doing? Overthinking like a teenage schoolgirl. Wind Archer just left to cool off and perform his little forest duties (clean up Fire Spirit’s mess).
Yeah.
Things will go back to normal the next time he visits.
That’s what he tells himself as he floats back to Dragon Valley, clutching his staff with nervous hands.