Chapter Text
The air hummed with thick tension as Askr approached, watching Soarin standing at the center, a casual grin plastered on his face. It was like he thought he were about to engage in the most entertaining of games. The sight infuriated Askr as he stopped, hands on his gun, ready to draw at any second. The low hum of the wind and the distant rustling of leaves were the only sounds around them. Askr Hakumo, an heir to the Hakumo family of the city of Suizeki, had been out, taking care of some ‘family business’ in the area, but in the midst of his job, he noticed another presence in the area and went to confront whoever it was. The fire user stood across from Soarin, his eyes narrowed as he studied him, his posture rigid with controlled fury.
“Well, well, Hakumo,” Soarin said, stretching dramatically, cracking his neck as he shifted his gaze at Askr. His hand hovering over the hilt of his ninjatô, but it was the ease in his movements and the playful twinkle in his eyes that made it clear that he wasn’t taking this as seriously as his opponent. “I was really hoping you’d show up after your little ‘job’. I have been so bored without someone to play with.”
“Can’t believe you showed up. Here of all places.” Askr said, his voice clipped, but still carrying the weight of his family’s expectations. He eyed Soarin up, his hands hovering over his custom-built guns, twin weapons built for precision and devastating power alongside his fire. He pulled the weapons up, checking the chambers with practiced ease, never breaking eye contact with Soarin.
Soarin chuckled, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, you should know by now that I don’t back down from impromptu challenges, my dear Hakumo.”
Askr’s lips tightened into a grim line, his fingers resting lightly on the triggers of his guns. “I don’t have time for this. And I most definitely don’t need a damn show.”
Soarin’s grin widened. “Aww, I was really looking forward to it!” he said, pausing for dramatic effect. “I’m not here to impress, but I’ll certainly give you a night to remember.”
Askr’s eyes flared with irritation, but he stayed silent—his fingers itching to draw his pistols. His gaze was intense, his fire ready to erupt. Soarin could feel the heat radiating from him, but it didn’t faze him. In fact, it only made this encounter more fun.
“You should learn how to ‘shut up’.” Askr growled, pulling out his twin guns in a fluid motion. The guns gleamed under the pale moonlight, each one aimed dead-on at Soarin’s chest. The air between them were charged, fiery and electric with danger.
“Why? I know you love it.” Soarin teased, raising an eyebrow as he shifted his weight onto one foot, standing completely unbothered. “You should thank me though. I’m practically a walking ice breaker, buddy.”
Askr narrowed his eyes, about to pull the trigger, but before he could act, Soarin closed the distance between them in a blink, lightning trailing behind him. His movements swift and fluid. Soarin was on the offensive from the start, stepping to the side before Askr’s fire induced bullets could leave the pistols. The bullets sliced through the air, but Soarin was already moving, his body shifting in an elegant, practiced flow that narrowly avoided each shot aimed at him.
“Seems like you have gotten faster.” Askr remarked, his eyes narrowing as he holstered one of the guns, keeping the other raised and steadied with his other hand. “But can you truly escape my fire?”
“It’s so boring practicing without you, but I had to.” Soarin replied, his voice light and teasing as he shifted again, twirling his ninjatò with a flourish. “But let’s see if you have improved in order to keep up.”
The two stood frozen in the tense standoff, the air thick with a dangerous, magnetic pull between them. Soarin could feel the heat of Askr’s fire, but it didn’t faze him. What had him on edge was the way Askr’s gaze burned through him, like a volcano waiting to erupt.
“You think you can intimidate me? Make fun of me?” Askr said, voice tight with barely contained rage. “You clearly don’t know me, Hatsuki.”
Soarin chuckled, twirling his ninjatò again, his voice dropping lower. “Oh buddy, I know exactly who you are. You’re one of the guys that get all worked up over a little teasing, yeah?” His grin widened, a little wicked now as he took a slow step back, pointing his blade at Askr. “You know—I’ve gotta admit. You’ve got this whole brooding thing down to an art form. I’m genuinely impressed.”
Soarin then lunged, his blade flashing in a sharp arc aimed for Askr’s side. Askr was faster than expected, twisting and pulling away, his gun jerking up to fire point-blank at Soarin. But Soarin was already sidestepping, using the momentum of his attack to avoid the line of fire. The bullet grazed his arm, just enough to sting, but Soarin barely flinched.
“Close—” Soarin purred with a smirk. “But you can do better than that, right?”
Soarin’s lightning flared up as he struck back, sending a crackling arc of yellow-white energy straight toward Askr. The bolt was fast, almost too fast to see, but Askr knew how Soarin did things and was already reacting. He twirled out of the way, his body fluid and controlled as he used his fire to redirect the bolt, the snap of his fingers creating a wall of flames, scorching the air between them.
“Hell yeah! Now we’re talking!” Soarin grinned. “Now that was more like it, buddy!”
Askr’s eyes flashed with irritation, but he didn’t let it show. “Idiot.”
Soarin raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he took a step forward. “So you say, but I’m sure that’s not all.” Without warning, Soarin sent another wave of lightning at Askr, the bolt sparkling intensely toward Askr. Askr reacted, his fire bursting into life around him, forming a shield of flame that melted the air, the heat radiating in waves.
The two forces clashed, lightning cracking against fire, sending sparks flying and lighting up the area in flashes of yellow and red. Soarin’s grin faded slightly—he could feel the heat of Askr’s flames pushing against his lightning, challenging him in a way he hadn’t expected.
“Not bad, buddy. I’m impressed.” Soarin said, his voice low, and for the first time, there was a hint of genuine respect in his tone. “Still can’t catch me though.”
Askr scoffed, lips curling up into a tight smile, though his eyes betrayed the simmering frustration beneath the surface. “You need to learn when to shut up.” he growled. He then snapped his fingers again, launching a burst of fire in Soarin’s direction.
Soarin twirled to the side, narrowly dodging the flames, but Askr was already on him—firing again, faster this time. The bullets engulfed in fire coming at him in rapid succession. Soarin barely had time to react, but swiftly deflected the bullets with his blade, but the heat still made his skin burn, the air thick with the scent of singed flesh. The frustration on Askr’s face was evident now as he reloaded his guns, his focus razor-sharp. His movements were precise, but Soarin was too quick on his feet, dancing around him with ease, dodging each strike with effortless grace.
“Aw man, you’re no fun.” Soarin sighed, his voice almost mockingly disappointed. “How about this—Let’s make it interesting, no?” Without warning, Soarin dashed forward, his lightning cracking beneath his feet as he closed the distance between them in a heartbeat.
Askr, caught off guard by the sudden movement, raised his gun, but Soarin was already there—too close, too fast. He struck, disarming Askr in a single, fluid motion. “Oops, my bad!” Soarin grinned as he held his ninjatò, now spinning the gun between his fingers like a showman. “Did you really think I’d make it easy for you? That’s no fun, buddy.”
Askr’s face flushed with anger again, but there was a spark of something else now—a flicker of something deeper that Soarin couldn’t quite place, but it intrigued him nonetheless. Askr reached for his other gun, but Soarin was already on the move again, with lightning speed he reached out and grabbed Askr’s wrist, locking it in place before he could draw it. Soarin’s other hand pressed lightly against Askr’s chest, pushing him back with the gentleness of a lover, but the intent of a fighter.
“Com’on, Askr. Keep up.” Soarin chuckled, his breath warm against Askr’s ear as they stood face to face, the space between them charged with an intensity neither of them fully understood at this moment.
Askr’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. The proximity between them, the heat of the moment, made it harder to focus. Soarin was toying with him, every work, every moment designed to throw him off balance, and it was working.
“You’re a fucking idiot…” Askr growled. “But I’ll admit—you’re also infuriatingly good.”
Soarin winked at him. “Leave a tip next time, would ya’?” Soarin then tilted his head, studying Askr with a knowing smile. “You know—for someone so focused, you’re really terrible at keeping your cool. But I guess that’s what makes it fun.” he teased, his lips almost brushing against Askr’s ear as he leaned in closer. “Could stay here all night, buddy.”
Askr was seething now, fury building in his chest. This was too much. Soarin was mocking him, teasing him, and the frustration was boiling over. He clenched his teeth, muscles taut, his free hand reaching for another move, desperate to break free from the overwhelming pressure.
“Soarin.” Askr growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Enough!”
But Soarin only grinned wider, leaning back slightly, letting the tension build between them. “You don’t want me to stop, Askr. Besides, this is just the warm-up.” Soarin added, his tone sultry and playful as his fingers twitched with the electrical current that still hummed in his veins.
Soarin’s heart raced, the intensity of the fight heightening with each passing moment. His body moved without thought, his lightning sparkling with raw power as he countered every strike, his movements a blend of instinct and training. But even with his speed and agility, he couldn’t deny that Askr’s control over his fire was something to be reckoned with. And yet, there was something about the way Askr moved—something raw and elemental in his style—that pulled Soarin in. The way his magic surged, the heat of it making the air crackle and hum, felt like something more than just power. It was a force of nature, impossible to ignore.
Soarin grinned again. “You’re getting warmer.” he teased, his voice laced with flirtation. “But you need to turn the heat up a little more.”
Askr’s eyes darkened, the fury in his gaze palpable. “Shut the fuck up!” he snapped, breaking loose from Soarin’s grip and raised his gun to fire again.
But Soarin wasn’t done yet. In a blur of motion, his ninjatò flicked out in a blur of silver, slicing the air with deadly precision. The tip of the blade pressed against Askr’s chest, the cold steel making contact with the little skin showing. “So close,” Soarin murmured. “But still not close enough.”
Askr’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, the heat of his fire still radiating from him, but he didn’t move. The tension between them was thick, charged with something neither of them could define, but could feel.
Soarin leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief “Tell me, Hakumo.” he whispered. “How many times are you going to make it easy for me?”
Askr’s grip on his gun tightened, but he didn’t make a move. His gaze locked onto Soarin’s with an intensity that could have burned through stone. For a moment, there was nothing between them but that raw, unspoken connection—the heat of their magic, the pull of something more than just a fight. And then, in a quick movement, Soarin stepped back, twirling his blade with a flourish as he lowered to his side. “I’ll leave you to it, Hakumo.” he said, his grin still in place, though there was a glint of something more serious behind it now. “Next time, don’t hold back.” Soarin turned, starting to walk away with casual ease that belied the intensity of their fight. But as he reached the edge of the area, he couldn’t resist one last look over his shoulder.
“Fuck you.” Askr growled.
Soarin grinned. “You’ll have to make it more interesting, buddy.” Soarin added, his voice quiet, but full of intent. “Can’t wait for round two.” With that, Soarin offered Askr a playful wink. “Next time, buddy.” he said lightly. “Though, maybe you can be the one to make the first move? It’s only fair, after all.”
Askr stared at him, his chest heaving with suppressed rage. “Next time?” Askr muttered, his voice barely audible. Soarin gave him one last teasing wink before walking away, his hips swaying in an almost exaggerated motion, as if he knew the taunting effect it had on Askr. As Soarin walked off, his laughter echoed behind him, leaving Askr standing in the middle of the area, still holding his gun, but with a searing rage in his chest. Soarin was a whirlwind—impossible to pin down—and yet, with every playful jab, he’d left a mark on Askr.
“Next time—Next time, I’ll make it quick.” Askr warned, his voice low, but there was something else there, something deeper than just the frustration of the fight.
Askr paced in his apartment, the sharp click of boots against the wooden floor echoing in his otherwise quiet home. His pulse was still high from the fight—his body tense, every muscle coiled with frustration. He ran a hand through his hair, but the motion didn’t help calm the fire inside him. It wasn’t just the fight. No, it wasn’t just the way Soarin had handled it. It was the fact that Soarin had toyed with him. Toyed. With him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. That damn fight. Soarin.
Each time Askr closed his eyes, he saw it—Soarin dodging his attacks with a smirk, the way he moved like the battle was nothing more than a game. No, worse—Soarin had treated him like a child. A toy to be played with, and Askr hated it. He hated the way his strikes had been effortlessly avoided, how Soarin had flicked him aside like he was nothing more than a simple distraction. Soarin had made him look like a fool. That thought alone was enough to make his hands tremble. His breath quickened, and his chest tightened, still caught in the grip of rage and embarrassment.
How could Soarin, of all people, make him look weak? He wasn’t weak. He was a Hakumo—the blood of fire magic users, of control and power. He was the one who should dictate the battlefield, the one who had made a name for himself by not backing down. Askr’s jaw clenched, and he dug his fingers into the cool surface of the desk in his living room, trying to steady himself. He could hear Soarin’s voice, the teasing edge, the way Soarin had danced around him still visible in his mind, avoiding his every strike with ease. It hadn’t been a fight; it had been a game. Soarin hadn’t taken him seriously, and that pissed him off more than he cared to admit.
He cursed under his breath. How dare he!
The memory of the fight kept replaying in his mind. Soarin’s laughter, the way his body moved with effortless grace, the mocking glint in his eyes when he dodged Askr’s attacks. It was as though Soarin was just having a playdate with him, treating the entire thing like some kind of a sparring match. A stupid game. As if Askr were a mere inconvenience, not an opponent worth facing seriously. It stung. It burned. Soarin had looked at him with the same confident smirk—like he knew exactly what Askr was thinking, exactly how he would react. And it had worked. It had thrown him off balance. Every time Soarin had dodged him, Askr could feel the humiliation rise up in his chest, bubbling beneath his skin anew.
Why did it bother him so much? Askr scowled. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let Soarin get under his skin like this. He was supposed to be in control, the one who should dictate the terms of every encounter. Yet here he was, seething in his own home, letting the memories of that fight gnaw at him. It was more than just pride. He wasn’t used to feel this—like Soarin had stripped him bare without lifting a finger. Like he’d just become another pawn in Soarin’s game, to be played with and then discarded. Like a fucking toy.
The anger kept simmering inside Askr, bubbling beneath his skin like a fire waiting to ignite. He had spent the last few hours trying to steady himself, to calm the furious pulse that drummed in his temples, but it wouldn’t fade. The memory of the fight—of Soarin—kept replaying in his mind, gnawing at him. Soarin hadn’t just fought him. No, he had played with him, like he was nothing more than a damn nuisance. A distraction for fun. It wasn’t just the moves Soarin had made—it was the way he had looked at him, mocked him. Every time he dodged a strike, every time he laughed in the midst of their fight, was like a reminder of how easily he could gain control over the fight. Over Askr. And that infuriated him.
Askr paced in his apartment, the walls closing in on him as the anger kept building, knotting in his gut. His fist clenched, and he slammed it against the wall, making a dent, his breath coming in harsh bursts. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Soarin was supposed to be an opponent—one to defeat, not someone who could shake his composure. Askr kept pacing, trying to clear his mind, but the frustration only grew. He needed to take control of the situation. He couldn’t let Soarin keep him off balance. Not again. Not ever.
A knock was then heard, and the front door opened and closed. Askr didn’t need to turn to know who it was. The smugness of the steps, the instant cocky presence in his living room—it could only be one person. His twin brother. His fraternal twin brother.
Asher. Askr’s jaw tightened. Why was his brother always so goddamn smug?
“You’re looking a little fired up, brother.” Asher’s voice rang out, dripping with amusement. His footsteps echoed as he approached, and Askr could hear the grin in his tone. “You’re pissed. I can see it. Can basically hear your blood boil from here.” Asher’s tone was light, but there was an edge to it. “Encounter with that Hatsuki again? You really thought you were going to beat him, huh?”
Askr stiffened, grinding his teeth. “Get lost.”
Asher chuckled. “Nah. I like watching you stew over a fight you can’t ever win.”
Soarin’s face flashed in Askr’s mind again—their brief clash, the way Soarin had avoided his every move. He gritted his teeth more, and Asher didn’t miss it, his smirk growing wider as he leaned against the wall.
Asher didn’t back down. “He got you good, eh? Being his little ‘playbuddy’.”
Askr’s hand clenched into a fist again. He didn’t turn to face his brother, but the anger in his chest was rising like a tidal wave. Asher had always known how to push his buttons, and he absolutely despised it. “I don’t need your damn opinion!” Askr bit back, the frustration bleeding into his words. He could feel his control slipping—and he hated it more than anything.
“Of course you don’t.” Asher rolled his eyes. “You really think of Hatsuki as some kind of rival? How stupid isn’t that?” Asher chuckled. Asher didn’t back down, and took a step closer, his presence looming like a storm. “Apparently he knows how to get under your skin.” He said, his eyes narrowing, almost like he was savoring Askr’s discomfort. “You really look pathetic, brother. You’re aware of that right?”
The words hit Askr like a slap to the face. His breathing quickened, but he didn’t face his brother. Instead, he clenched his fists hard, his nails digging into his palms. The words stung because they were true. Soarin had made him look weak, had made him look like a fool. He couldn’t stand that. “I’ll get him the next time…” Askr finally said, his voice lower now, rough with the emotion he couldn’t quite bury.
“You’re a Hakumo, Askr. A weapon, a legacy” Asher said, his voice took on an almost mocking tone. “You’re really intimidated by some idiot with a little knife? What’s next? You’re going to start respecting the guy?”
The words felt like nails dragging across his skin. Him? Respecting a Hatsuki?
“Get lost, already!” Askr hissed, his voice slipping into a warning.
But Asher was relentless, his smirk widening as he took a step forward. “You need to wake up, brother. He got under your skin whether you like it or not.”
Askr’s entire body trembled with the force of the anger that had built inside him, but he held it together—just barely. “Shut up!”
Asher stepped into his space now, his voice lowering, almost like a whisper, but still carrying that maddening taunt. “I can see you’re too proud to admit it, but he’s already living rent free in your mind” His grin deepened. “Oh, you poor thing.”
“Enough!” Askr’s voice was hoarse now, his anger flaring beyond control. His body trembled with the force of it, but he didn’t care. “Get out!”
Asher stepped back, eyes wide, but the grin never left his face. “Oooh, looks like I hit a nerve. But please, I can see it bothers you. As clear as day.”
Askr’s breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving. He hated how his brother was right. Hated it. Even more so that Soarin had gotten under his skin. He hated that everything Asher was saying felt so true. Asher didn’t understand—none of them did. “I’m not some fucking plaything!” Askr growled, stepping forward, his knuckles white due to having them clenched so hard at his sides, trembling with the desire to strike.
Asher’s grin didn’t falter. He stood there, almost daring his brother to lose control. “A Hatsuki. Toying with you. It’s kinda funny now that I think about it.” But his brother was relentless. “I know you, Askr. You can’t stand the fact that that Hatsuki made you look pathetic.”
Askr took a step towards him, his body tight with rage. The nerve of him. “I said—”
Askr opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, the front door swung open and slammed shut within a second. Their father, Eirik, then stepped into the living room. “Enough!” his voice cut through the tension like a blade, both brothers froze at the sight. Askr and Asher locked eyes for a long, tense moment, neither willing to back down. Eirik’s eyes narrowed as he looked between his two sons. The room still incredibly tense, thick with unspoken words, with emotions running high. Eirik continued, his voice firm. “This is not the time for petty squabbles.”
Askr took a step back, the tension still simmering. Asher shot him one last smirk, starting to walk out with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine.” Asher muttered with a smirk, leaving Askr standing there by himself.
Eirik shot Asher a glare. “Get over yourself.” he barked, making Asher flinch, his smirk faltering ever so slightly. “Both of you.”
Askr remained still, his chest heaving with the weight of their father’s confrontation, having not expected it. HIs body was alive with tension, but his mind… his mind kept flashing back to Soarin—his face, his smile, the way Soarin had looked at him, as though he knew exactly what he was doing. Playing him like a fool. And the worst part? It infuriated him.
Askr stared at the wall for a long moment, his mind racing. He needed to make this right. He needed to prove himself—prove that he wasn’t someone to be toyed with. And the next time they met, Soarin wouldn’t be able to walk away so easily. He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration gnawing at him in waves. The memories of their fight wouldn’t leave him, even in the solitude of his own home. His thoughts circled like a vortex, replaying each moment, each way Soarin sidestepped his moves, even the most lethal ones, as though nothing mattered. No, as if Askr didn’t matter.
He wasn’t sure if it was the rage or something deeper gnawing at him, but a part of him wanted to chase Soarin down, confront him and show him exactly who he was. He wanted to destroy that smirk, make him see just how wrong he was to toy with him. A Hakumo. Askr’s fists were still clenched, his knuckles as white as could be, but he said nothing.
Eirik’s gaze softened as he studied Askr, but quickly found Asher and shot him another glare. “You know better than to rile your brother up like this.” he growled. Asher shrugged, defeated. “Go home. I’ll deal with you later.” he added. That got Asher’s attention, and his smirk vanished. Asher nodded and quickly left.
Askr stood there, silent. Eirik stood there for another second before turning. As the front door closed behind his father, Askr finally allowed himself to take a breath, not realizing that he had been holding it, but the anger in his chest didn’t dissipate. It couldn’t. Not yet. And as much as he hated it, Soarin had become an obsession.