Chapter Text
The autumn leaves fall quiet in the night. Red and orange dot the path up the Sacred Mountain, scattered by the gentle breeze. Soon, they’ll wither away into the soil below, providing nourishment for new life.
Such is the cycle; death and rebirth in equal measure.
Those neat piles of leaves are mercilessly crunched underfoot as a monster races through the undergrowth and the peaceful atmosphere explodes into a flurry of movement.
Emerging from the shadows, Narita Brian adjusts the grip of her bow as she leaps up onto a tree branch, pausing for a moment to gain her bearings.
In this maze of shimmering red, it’s almost impossible for one to keep their sense of direction, for the trees blur into one another making the old paths treacherous for man and uma alike.
The sun has set, leaving only darkness - it’s the most dangerous time of the natural world.
It’s exactly where she belongs.
Her yellow eyes flick from side to side as she parses the trail before her, relying more on wild instinct than her senses to find her way.
There.
Nocking an arrow to her bow, she leaps from the branch of the tree and pulls the string taught. As gravity guides her down, she takes aim and releases.
The wooden target, suspended on the trunk of a maple, shatters under the force of the projectile striking clean into its centre. A perfect shot.
Rolling to cushion her fall, Brian continues her onslaught. She lets the pounding in her chest guide her forward, ignoring lanterns and signposts, the scarce remnants of civilization in this primitive place.
She spots her next target huddling in the shade of a bough, concealed behind leaves that have long fallen away. A second arrow leaps into her hand and Brian does not even watch it strike home before moving to draw a third.
Draw, sight, shoot. She repeats the motion again and again as she races between the trees. A hollowed out trunk echoes the violent thud of steel puncturing the target within.
Her aim is unerring, each movement practiced a thousand times, archery techniques ingrained into the muscles so that they come as easy as breathing.
Draw. Sight. Shoot. A trio of targets hang the canopy above her, swaying in the wind. One single shot obliterates all three of them.
She keeps a count in the back of her mind, but with her prowess, merely counting the number of arrows left in the quiver later will suffice.
A tiny river breaks the forest in two, forded by a small wooden bridge. The planks squeak under the weight of her footsteps and she pauses in the middle of the stream to fire another shot. A target waiting on the far side shatters in two.
As she prepares to spring away, the water begins to ripple. It’s more wild instinct than any reason that has her freezing in place, listening to the way the stream gently trickles down the sloped ground.
Even before she can fully register the footsteps, Brian is whirling in place to face the newcomer.
Symboli Rudolf floats into the clearing like a being from another world.
With her robes the same fiery shade as the forest around them, the Emperor blends into the trees as though they were one and the same, her serene glide in sheer opposition to Brian’s violent warpath.
Brian can only watch her dance between the lantern light like a falling leaf, weapon ready in her hands.
Her eyes blink shut and when they open again Rudolf has left the ground, inverting her body to float upside down with the night sky at her back. Were she not twenty feet above the forest floor, Brian might think her asleep, eyes shut and face soft even as gravity begins to take hold.
But it would be dangerous to think her opponent so gentle.
Swathed in cloth a deep purple, Brian lets herself blend into the shadow that the other woman casts over her, revelling in the way her body readies itself for the oncoming storm.
Light and dark. The Emperor and the Monster.
Silhouetted against the crescent moon, Rudolf opens her eyes.
Bright magenta pierces straight into her soul and Brian does not hide her grin as she reaches for another arrow.
Rudolf lands with her back perfectly straight and an arrow already nocked. Drawing back the bowstring that no human could, she takes aim into the woods.
For the single moment it takes her to release the shot, Brian can’t help but watch the muscles of her back ripple beneath exposed skin.
Then the bowstring snaps forward and Rudolf is dashing across the river rocks. A crack sounds through the trees as another target is blown apart. Brian’s waning focus allows Rudolf to fire another arrow before she can even reach for her quiver, and she grits her teeth, powering forward to regain her lead.
In the few minutes of their separation, she’s been unable to keep track of both their scores, and stopping to count Rudolf’s remaining arrows would waste precious time spent on the hunt. Losing track in such a way does not frustrate her. She will simply have to ensure that she cannot be beaten.
It’s not the racecourse. It’s not a race with fanfare and a screaming crowd. But it’s every bit as energizing as Brian had hoped. The arrows whistle through the trees like birds, the air abuzz with energy as their competition begins in earnest.
Excitement gets to her half a kilometre later, when she clutches at the release and her arrow goes right off the mark. Rudolf nails her target half a second later.
Brian considers checking her with her shoulder, imagines how they might shove at each other like wolves fighting over a carcass. Instead she bears her fangs - a refusal to surrender.
Rudolf does not even glance her way. Her blood begins to boil.
Her movements become more reckless after that. A lesser archer might have been slow, been cautious about not making any further mistakes. Brian leaps into the air just as Rudolf does, not heeding the leaves obscuring her path as she hones in on the next target.
A hidden branch hooks into her skin, but she doesn’t let the pain distract her from nailing two bullseyes in mid-air. Her momentum carries her over Rudolf, who is already twisting to find new targets.
The Emperor gives a single glance in her direction and something dangerous flickers in her eyes. Brian shoves her face as close as she can, almost butting their heads together as they fly around each other.
They collide upon landing, stumbling as they lose their focus on the ground.
Rudolf’s hand attaches to her upper arm. Brian’s fingers curl into the flower at Rudolf’s waist.
Were they not steadying each other, she might have given it a pull as they separate.
The path begins to slop upwards as they cover more ground. Glancing up through the treeline, Brian catches a glimpse of flames: the great bonfire waiting at the peak where their final target awaits.
Raising a hand behind her head, she gently feels the fletching of the single remaining arrow in her quiver. Peering at Rudolf one last time, Brian readies herself for the final part of their trial.
The Sacred Mountain looms up into the sky, decorated with trees both evergreen and crumbling red. There’s a quiet path leading up the far side, by which pilgrims would bring offerings to the shrine at the peak.
Slinging her bow over her shoulder, Brian crosses right over the trodden dirt and begins hauling herself up the nearest cliff face. The slope is nearly vertical, and as her legs give out she clutches onto the outcroppings to steady herself.
Within mere minutes her arm muscles begin to burn, her legs nearly useless as parts of the climb slope out over the forest.
The fall grows long, and looking down makes her head spin. She marvels at the feeling.
A few metres below her, she can see that even Rudolf has begun to lose her composure. Sweat streaks down her exposed neck and back as she gasps for air. Her hair, tied back to leave her movements unrestricted, has begun to come loose with debris of the forest tangled within.
Still, her exertion does not appear to have slowed her down the slightest. Brian’s knees turn to jelly watching Rudolf power up the slope behind her and she redoubles her own efforts. The grass she’s been using to cushion her handholds becomes more sparse as they climb, and the jagged rock cuts into her palms. The wound begins to burn as she pushes on.
Between her own breaths she can hear Rudolf grunt as she scrabbles for proper purchase. She can’t let an injury slow her down.
She pulls herself up onto flatter terrain, re-joining with the path.
A gate carved from cedar wood stands at the top of rough hewn stone steps, perhaps a hundred metres away. Vermillion paint reflects the glow of the fire beyond.
Struggling to stand, she runs on all fours like a wild animal, using her lead to properly regain her footing. Almost there. Her opponent isn’t even standing yet. Brian just needs to cross the threshold and-
Rudolf roars.
The whole mountain seems to shake as the Emperor flies up onto the path behind her.
Brain loses her balance and smacks her face into the grass. The single half second of immobility sends a flash of excitement across her spine.
It’s good. It’s exhilarating. They can make the final stretch together.
They can both spill their guts out onto the mountainside, wear their legs down to nothing in the final moments of their duel and when Brian stands tall in her victory, Rudolf won't even have the strength to look her in the eye.
Just the two of them. Monster and fallen ruler. Burning brighter than all others.
Letting out her own battle cry, Brian hauls herself up the last few metres, all but throwing her body up the final steps.
The peak of the mountain is a single sloping path dominated by a bonfire that threatens to blind her as she rolls onto the ledge. Shielding her eyes with one hand, she fixates her gaze on a single sapling, waiting just before the flames.
She’s reaching behind her head before she even spots the single autumn leaf painted onto its bark. Her unmistakable final target.
Draw.
Sight.
Shoot.
The thrum of the longbow reverberates across the open mountainside, down the sloping rocks and swaying grass, out into the night sky. Time seems to slow as Brian watches her projectile spear directly towards the bullseye.
It’s another arrow that hits home a fraction of a second faster. The final target explodes into splinters with a sharp crack.
The echoing whistle of the kabura-ya signals her defeat. Quiet descends upon the mountaintop, only fire and wind left as the thrill disappears.
Slumped onto her side, Brian can only stare in disbelief as Rudolf looks over her fallen form with triumph written into her features.
I…lost?
Exhaustion hits just as hard as the sting of defeat, and she plants both hands onto the ground to steady herself, discarding her longbow to the side.
For many minutes they are both speechless, breathing heavily as the heat of the flames die away and the cold mountain breeze takes its place. Brian’s fingers curl into fists as she stares down the fading bonfire, the wounds on her palm stinging as she does so.
“Fufufu.” Rudolf’s quiet chuckle makes her all the more furious, but when Brian turns her head she is not expecting to see the other woman so exhausted. Red faced, shoulders shaking, eyes wide in the dark.
The Emperor turns to face the shrine. “I must say that I never expected archery to be so thrilling.”
Brian stares like her eyes could burn a hole in the back of Rudolf’s head. She’ll take her revenge. She’ll claw her way on top. “Though it was no easy challenge. Exactly what I would expect from laying the monster low.”
Growling, Brian pushes to her feet. “I’m not dead yet.”
Her defiance only draws another chuckle from Rudolf.
“Such vigor.”
The laughter grows louder and soon it's not the Emperor laughing anymore. It’s not calm and polite, cursory and forced. It’s a deep rumble from within her chest, unable to be restrained by the hand over her mouth.
“Such instincts.”
Rudolf’s gaze is filled with barely contained mirth as she sweeps it across the mountainside, the trees, the lights of the festival in the distance.
She trails a hand across to her breast, smiling at how the fingers tremble. Brian’s skin begins to tingle.
“They’re enough to set anyone's heart racing. It seems I’m no exception.”
Her smile vanishes, and Brian swears the wind goes with it.
Watching the other woman out of the corner of her eye, she can’t help but feel like a prey animal rooted to the spot.
“But the hunt is over. Only one of us can remain standing.”
Symboli Rudolf is cast in a terrifying glow by the fire at her back as she raises her arm in clear command.
“Bow before me, beast!”
The voice booms across the stones, seemingly raising the flames with its power. Rudolf’s nails turn to claws, her eyes glow, the stony visage of the Emperor cracks away as some new thing peers out from underneath.
The Shadow Monster's legs begin to quake, the sudden change in atmosphere nearly pushing her to the ground.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. It should be her, with her fangs wrapped around the Emperor’s throat.
She won’t give in.
Never, she wants to say. But the first syllable comes far too close to a squeak and it simply devolves into a “No.”
“Oh?”
And as Rudolf takes the steps to close the distance the wolf finds her fight response completely dissipated.
“You said you wanted real prey, Brian.”
Never before has she cursed a six centimetre height difference so much.
Rudolf's breath tickles her ear as she leans in.
“What happens to real prey when it’s caught?”
Oh. Fuck.
Brian doesn't even register the thud of her knees against the ground.
Wholly consumed by the presence of the woman towering over her, she can’t even raise her head to glare back. Feeling her face heat up, she can only try to keep herself upright as she fruitlessly wills herself to resist.
To think that she’d been reluctant to even join Rudolf in an archery show. Dismissed the festival as a waste of her time. She’d challenged the emperor to a real show of strength, intent on crushing her.
Now here she is, on her knees. Ready for the killing blow.
She’s not sure if she’s ever felt more alive, with Rudolf looking down at her like she’s about to devour her.
A hand enters her field of view and she draws in a choked breath as it draws closer to her face. Will the fingers fasten themselves to her throat, squeeze the life out of her? Will the nails dig into the skin and draw her blood?
And then the moment ends with a final laugh, higher pitched and filled with nothing but good humour.
“Oh dear. It appears I’ve gotten ahead of myself.”
The tyrant vanishes just as quickly as she appeared. Rudolf crouches down so that their faces are level, her hand now extending to Brian’s shoulder.
“In my exultation, I’ve neglected to notice your injury.”
The chill of the wind seems all the stronger as the tension breaks, but Brian still can’t quite make eye contact as fingers trail across her arm. “It’s nothing.”
“For you, I’m sure.” A thumb brushes against the skin and she clenches her teeth to keep from shuddering. When hands move over her own, she upturns them and lets Rudolf inspect the sheared skin.
“But regardless, it would be best if we head back. The festival goers will be expecting us, yes? I’m sure the autumn celebration is in full swing by now.”
“Hmph. They wouldn’t know a thing about a real festival. They're better off fighting their way up here.”
When Rudolf turns to set her weapon aside, Brian can see a bruise forming on her back. She must have fallen somewhere down the path.
To have gotten so excited…
“Be that as it may, your health and safety are the priority, as they have always been.”
It’s oddly dissatisfying, the way Rudolf is so gentle with her now. Brian wonders if she even realises just what she was doing.
Pulling her hands away, she straightens her back in an attempt to gain some dignity. “What happened to ‘real prey’?”
Rudolf coughs a single time, beginning to adjust her hair that has almost blown free from the ponytail. “Forgive me, my excitement appears to have gotten the better of me.”
“Hm.” Right. Brian supposes she can’t blame the woman for taking pride in her victory. “Whatever.”
Just as she lets her guard down, a hand hooks itself under her elbow.
“But if you are so adamant that I claim the spoils of war...”
Her heart nearly breaks through her ribs.
When she’s pulled to her feet, a gentle smile has plastered itself across Rudolf’s face.
“Then as my prize, I shall take you as my personal escort for the night.”
It’s like a monster is pretending to be Rudolf, with the pompous over-the-top mannerisms poorly hiding its true nature. Brian wants to know more about it.
She does not want to parade around some festival tossing hoops and catching goldfish.
So she bats away the arm against her own, a childish gesture intended to goad. “You want me to play carnival games with you? No thanks.”
Her rejection hardly seems to faze Rudolf. “Well, as President, it’s my duty to ensure that everything runs smoothly. Besides…”
Attraction is easy to understand.
“I believe you’re in no position to deny me.”
The way the refusals die in Brian’s throat when Rudolf deepens her voice is simply baffling.
…
(Still, she can’t appear to completely give in.)
“Fine. I’ll be your guard dog.”
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