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It was cramped. Too cramp, in fact.
Mina Ha detested the idea of being confined in tight spaces. Whether that be on a filthy train car, or a putrid public restroom stall. Someone of her prestige would rather perish than be caught in such places.
But right now, those types of spaces would be much preferable to where she found herself now.
At least in a toilet stall, she had a degree of freedom to move around. Here, somehow stuffed inside a mystical suitcase, her body was pressed up along the interior with hardly a chance to move a limb. Worst of all, it wasn’t just the suitcase her body was pressed up against.
“Ugh! You truly disgust me, you know that!” Mina angrily chastised the second occupant of the suitcase:
Arin Fairfax. Or as they preferred to go by: Pocket.
“We could’ve both died if I didn’t bring us in here!” The former heir defended themselves, their own body equally as confined within their suitcase’s interior. “I had to think fast!”
“And THIS is what you came up with?” Mina retorted. “How dim of you, seriously!”
As the two of them argued, the sounds of battle raged outside, more fierce than any storm at sea. The back-and-forth battle that was the ritual had been going on for over an hour now. And by then, every contestant acquired enough souls to pull out all the stops.
The latest team fight happening right now was a cacophony of unleashed abilities: Bebop’s melodic hyperbeam. McGinnis’ howling barrage. The rattling of chains of Billy. The galloping of horses rushed by as Paige unleashed her rallying charge. The sounds of gunfire and lesser abilities were lost to the madness, and in the middle of it, Pocket retreated into their suitcase. It was a common tactic to escape a chaotic situation, and they hoped to make an escape once the fighting calmed down.
But in the heat of the moment, Pocket noticed Mina nearby, stunned by a slam by Abrams, had little time to react to Bebop’s ultimate attack. Not wanting to risk a team member going down, Pocket came up with a solution in the heat of the moment, pulling Mina into their suitcase’s mysterious inner space.
And while it was roomier than what the size suggested, it didn’t have enough space to comfortably accommodate two people. Both of them were packed in tightly, shoulder to shoulder, their bodies squished together like some twisted circus stunt on Coney Island.
“I could’ve gotten out of there, you know.” Mina grumbled, still struggling (albeit futilely) to push herself away from Pocket’s body. The thought of her immaculate attire, being marred by the grimy rags of her ex-fiance, felt worse than any injury sustained in the ritual.
“You seriously think you could’ve survived all that while stunned?” Pocket asked, their voice heavy with skepticism.
“Uh, yes,” Mina answered with absolute confidence. “Done it a million times before. Unlike you, I don’t need to throw that smelly coat around to get out of a pinch. Becoming a swarm of bats is more fashionable.”
“It was do or die,” Pocket continued to object. “You can’t just take a chance, you could’ve gotten taken out!”
“Oh, like we haven’t had a brush with death already,” Mina countered, rolling her eyes. Death wasn’t permanent in the ritual, which meant any participant could experience it again and again. But revival wasn’t instant either, which made even one downed team member a potential disadvantage.
Within the darkness of the suitcase, Mina could make out Pocket’s furrowed brows as they asked: “What, you’d rather just die than be saved by me?”
“Truthfully, yeah,” the aspiring vampire bluntly asserted. “If it meant not getting stuck with you.”
Pocket let out an exasperated breath. “You’re unbelievably...”
They trailed off, but Mina wouldn’t let it slide. “Unbelievably what? Go ahead, you can finish saying what’s on your mind.”
“It’s nothing...”
“Is it really now? You’re sooo brave enough to stand up to Fairfax, but you don’t have the courage to say something to my face!?”
“Mina...” Pocket said softly, almost disapprovingly.
But Mina would have none of that.
“You’re the worst, you know that!? You really have a knack for ruining my life! Denying me the Fairfax name, then showing your sorry face after five years of disappearing! And then the Hidden King had to be stupid enough to put us on the same team!?”
“What? Do you want an apology...?”
“I don’t want a stupid apology! You made your stupid choices-”
“Like it was my choice to get shot?” Pocket sounded sarcastic, which only served to piss Mina off more.
“Oh boo-hoo, an assassin put a bullet in me, I’m no longer the Fairfax Favorite,” she said mockingly. Then her tone became venomous. “You know what I think? I think you were glad you got shot. Such a grand excuse to run away from marrying me.”
Pocket had no rebuttal, even if they believed Mina’s words to be false. And the lack of their own words only allowed her to continue her tirade.
“You think someone as spineless as you can change your father’s company? A coward that hides in a suitcase like this? What, you think me and the rest of us will do your dirty work, and summon the patron for you. Be real. I don’t care what you want to do about your stupid father, or your stupid company. I’m Mina Ha. I’m going to be the viscount of New York. I don’t need to rely on someone else’s name but my own!”
Her bold declaration was met with silence. From the limited vision of Pocket’s up close face, they looked contemplative, brooding. But the specifics of what they felt were unreadable to Mina. Her words were meant to stab at their heart; make them feel the crushing weight of their follies. But the sweet satisfaction of seeing guilt, or any attempts to excuse themselves, fell flat. After all she just said to them, just what did Pocket --what did Arin-- even think about her? Even back then, they always seemed so distant. So uninterested in anything she had to say.
For a time, Mina regarded it as a minor annoyance. In the grand scheme of things, she didn’t need a partner who showed her affection. She only cared about the name they carried, and the power it wielded. And yet, the question clung to her mind like an unsightly oil stain. She thought when Arin got taken out of the picture, she would never discover their true feelings.
Now, Arin returned. Arin became Pocket. A grim crusader against their father and his empire. And when they met each other again, despite her own outrage and contempt she held against them, Mina still could never grasp the truth. Even now as she laid out her anger, trapped within the confines of their suitcase together, Pocket stubbornly remained elusive.
“Ugh... this is so lame,” Mina said with a heavy sigh.
It caught Pocket off guard, their face becoming mildly surprised. “Huh...?”
“I seriously tell you off, and not even a hint of remorse? Honestly....”
The way she spoke suggested loathing. Alongside it, a feeling so unknowable, so hazy to Mina herself. The closest she could compare it to would be a failed attempt at a complex puzzle. The majority of pieces were already in place, yet the remaining ones were missing, or couldn’t fit. Mina hated the idea of defeat. But this feeling would be the closest to such a thing.
After a couple more seconds of stillness, Pocket spoke. Mina didn’t expect them to say anything, but in an almost-whisper, they solemnly declared.
“I chose my path... and you chose yours.... What happened back then, it can’t be changed now....”
The words were straightforward, yet frustratingly vague. If they had anything else to say, they wouldn’t have the chance to say it. At that point, Mina had enough.
“Pfft. Whatever... just get us out of this stupid case. I think the fighting’s stopped.”
Indeed, the symphony of battle outside had long fallen silent. With a simple grunt of acknowledgement, Pocket opened their suitcase, and both of them were quickly ejected to the ground.
The aftermath of the massive battle was evident all around them, but it seemed as if the fighting was being continued elsewhere, up ahead. The sudden ejection from the suitcase caused Mina to fall down, while Pocket landed on their feet with ease.
“HEY!” Mina yelled as she got to her feet. “Stupid Arin, you clumsy-!”
“So uhhhh... how long were you two planning on being in there?”
Mina stopped her outburst when she noticed Graves standing close by, looking quite suspicious. Next to her was Apollo, the Ixian quite perplexed at both Mina and Pocket.
“How uncouth,” Apollo admonished them. “Fooling around in the middle of the ritual. We were about to pry that thing open to figure out what you were doing.”
Both Mina and Pocket looked at their teammates, both in various levels of shock at the implications.
“We weren’t-!” They said in unison, but there was no time for justifications.
“We’re making a push on Broadway,” Graves informed them. “Billy and Infernus are already up ahead. If you seriously botch our chances, my mentor’s gonna love having two new thralls to play with.”
The mild threat from Graves failed to stir fear in Mina’s un-beating heart, but being the reason for defeat would be the last thing she wanted. “Fine, fine we’re going!”
“Just try to keep up,” Apollo quipped as he and Graves charged on ahead.
Mina sent the two Blackmore students an angry glare, but it was fruitless. They were right after all. They all needed to be in the fight to win the ritual. Including the one she loathed.
“Well? Are you gonna stand there like an idiot, or actually contribute to the ritual?”
Pocket glanced at her briefly, their mouth slightly open as if they had something to say. But their lips pressed together shut, and all they gave her was a nod. Readying her weapon, Mina marched forward, leaving Pocket behind.
She didn’t look back. She couldn’t. That face, the face of someone who hardly reacted to her, the face of a dead heir walking, eluded her no matter how many years had passed. The ideas of revenge and satisfaction aimed at them grew as cold as her body.
Now, more than anything, she wanted to move on.