Chapter Text
A storm was coming, he knew, and not just because the sky seemed to tell them so.
She was pulling her hair back, carding her fingers through the blonde strands while the hair tie was caught between her prim, pursed lips. He admired the way her muscles strained as she twisted the ponytail expertly, and he idly wondered if she was aware of the newfound tone in her arms, or of the twinge of pride he felt for her, knowing those new shadows gracefully sculpting her arms were the result of several months of extra training she’d put in.
Ever since the licensing exams were announced, Shiemi had been studying harder and pushing herself further and further in her drills. Rin didn’t think it had much to do with the exams themselves than some other motivation she had deigned not worth mentioning to him. In all honesty, he’d been wanting to ask her about it some time, but it wasn’t an urgent thing really. After all, it was a good thing for her to be working so hard…wasn’t it?
Okay, so it bothered him a little bit. She didn’t really talk to him anymore though was the thing, so who could blame him for being a little wary when it came to her reasoning?
He was glad though that Shiemi had asked him to be her sparring partner. He wasn’t so sure that it was only her family’s—well, more just her mother’s—exorcist supply shop, or even the side business venture she’d recently gotten into thanks to Konekomaru’s urging. The young monk-in-training had developed an ecommerce app and website for her when Shiemi had expressed wanting to help protect the general population from demons with her family’s shop supplies. She’d gotten really good at doing pressed herbs and flowers, especially with glass. The four-leaf clovers she’d made for her classmates for Christmas had only been the beginning.
The kinds of ornaments she crafted were very pretty on their own, but their purpose was even more appreciated by those who bought and collected them. It kept the usual onslaught of demonic pests at bay, a thing which was harder to come by these days due to the new emergence of afflicted citizens. Those who could see and interact with the “antisocial organisms,” as they were referred to by the media, were more a common crowd. Demand was high and supply was low, so Shiemi could charge whatever she liked for her effective products.
But then, that wasn’t her goal. She was kind by nature and generous when it came to discounts despite the already fair prices. Her reputation lent to a large and loyal customer base, who eschewed other similar, more expensive products on the market and promoted her brand with showers of praises for the craftmanship and care she put in. Her fans flourished in number exponentially every day because of it, and of course her workload grew consequently. Shiemi was under a lot of pressure and stress trying to keep up with the orders, so she enlisted the help of her friends when they offered.
Rin would often take it upon himself to deliver the packages to the post office. He’d admire the way Shiemi had wrapped it with twine and decorative paper like gifts. Her handwriting wasn’t the best he’d seen, but it was better than his and held a certain charm to it—an imperfection that was flawed but altogether human and real.
Her personality was reflected in her work. He saw that when he delivered those parcels and smelled the earthy scent of herbs that wafted lightly from its contents. He could see it in the four-leaf clover charm she’d given him and the others. His own hung on the one of the side posts of his standing mirror. Sometimes at night when he couldn’t sleep but didn’t want to get up and disturb Yukio, his eyes would wander across the room until they found that telltale moonlight glinting off a little glass vial, the clover almost gray in the darkness. Rin’s gaze would settle there for a few moments, thinking of Father Fujimoto, of simpler times with just the three of them and the monastery. His heart ached still for the past, but he was determined to move forward with the future.
The future he looked ahead to involved his friends and their bonds. They were a lot of his motivation and a source of strength for him. Revenge alone would bring closure, but the purpose protection brought with having those close bonds constantly made him push himself harder.
Maybe that was why Shiemi was here now. For the same reason he was.
Thunder roiled in the vagrant night sky as the pair of them squared off a few meters apart in the Academy’s Forest District, chosen for its familiarity as a training grounds for the Exwires.
They had agreed on sticking to the shallower edges of the forest where the trees grew in thinner patches and allowed whatever dismal natural light there was at the moment to filter in. Vegetation was spread throughout the ground surrounding the area sparsely, and the soles of their sneakers grit against the uneven earth as they adjusted their stances.
His sword still safely sheathed, Rin caught Shiemi’s eye and made the first move.
He threw himself across the field as fast as he could, flash-stepping so that in under a second he was behind her, his arms wrapping around her middle and heaving her into the air before he shot off the ground to follow.
Shiemi watched as Rin winked out of existence in front of her, and for a fraction of a second, panic seized her.
He’s fast! Where did he go?!
She had only just managed to sense his presence behind her before she was launched into the atmosphere, Rin not too far behind.
First he had dazzled her with his speed – had he always been that fast? – and then his arms corded with tensed muscles had pulled her to him by the waist, so close that she felt the heat of him through her back. Already she was distracted by him, and it was only just the beginning of the fight!
Focus, she told herself. Her eyes searched the sky around her, suspended for just a moment before gravity halted her impressive ascent. She narrowed her senses to zero in on a dark spot that was growing in size just below her.
Shiemi pricked her thumb on a safety pin she kept in her pocket, and without withdrawing her hand from its contents, smeared the pinprick of blood across the square of paper stashed away there.
Nee-chan appeared in a plume of smoke and clutching at the spare strands of hair at the nape of her neck that had begun to fall out of her ponytail. He squeaked in her ear, chattering in the foreign Greenman tongue.
“I need a seedling,” she said hurriedly. “Please, Nee-chan.”
Nee-chan nodded and obediently began sprouting maple tree seeds that were large enough to form papery brown wings for Shiemi.
“Thank you,” she said, running a finger over his head affectionately.
“That was smart,” Rin granted. He had watched her order the Greenman sprite into action with caution, wondering if she was readying an attack on him so soon only to be proven wrong.
He had reached the peak of his jump, and not ready to fall, immediately clamped a hand around Shiemi’s wrist, idly noting that his palm fit perfectly around it. He pulled her sharply to himself to adjust their center of gravity so it balanced the two of them under her makeshift parachute.
“You were too slow to notice me move earlier,” he continued to critique, frowning lightly at her.
“You’ve gotten a lot faster,” she retorted, her words strangely stiff and stilted.
He smirked. “I’ve been training,” Rin reminded her, brushing off her weird tone. Maybe she was afraid of heights?
An open blue flame danced across his knuckles and alighted on the tip of his forefinger, extended to point at her makeshift wings. She was too slow to notice that he was too close, and the papery material of the seeds caught on fire instantly.
She gasped as the inferno quickly engulfed Nee-chan’s work, only just barely managing to dislodge the roots from her spine before the flames could find her, too. Shiemi was flustered by the way Rin had so easily rendered her clever idea useless. She didn’t have a backup plan at the ready, too sure as she had been that her first idea would suffice.
He was teaching her that not all first ideas are brilliant in the face of a versatile and oftentimes powerful enemy. She would need to remember that. She would need to plan ahead and leave room for error.
Determined and just as reckless, Shiemi grabbed hold of Rin tightly, shuffling their positions in midair as they began their hard descent toward the ground with her on top.
Rin was sorely tempted to make light of the way Shiemi had shifted them, but he was pressed for time and now wasn’t the time to be talking shit. Still, he was bothered by how the urge to protect her even then dominated his thoughts. He realized distantly she was taking advantage of the fact that he would dare not turn his flames against her when she had no room to escape, so rampant was the fear that he would even just barely burn her.
“Shiemi!” he shouted over the roar of the air rushing past their ears and the thunder that echoed off in the distance. “What’re you doing?! If I was the enemy, I’d burn you right now!”
“But you won’t,” she said, meeting his eyes and smiling.
“This isn’t fair!” He was blushing, but his expression was angry. “You know that I can’t let go of you now. Not when you’re in danger of falling and getting hurt!”
There was a mischievous glint in her eye when she answered, “That’s what I’m counting on.”
They fell in what felt like slow motion, gazes locked on one another. Had they not been the other’s opponent, something magical might’ve happened in that moment shared between them. But as it was, they were make-believe enemies, and in the seconds their eyes met, the kind of respect reserved only for one’s equals was exchanged between the exorcists-to-be.
At the last possible second before their imminent impact, Shiemi sprang away from him, wrangling herself free and commanding Nee-chan to produce a large succulent with bulbous leaves to help absorb the shock.
Rin was forced to take the brunt of the fall, skidding away unevenly like a flat stone skipping on the water’s surface. He stood gingerly after a tree halted his journey, his back sore from colliding with the trunk and his body aching from the rough landing. His footing was uneven and already he was favoring one side over the other.
Still, he smirked at her, withdrawing his sword at long last and allowing himself to be ignited in his mantle of blue flames. “Time to kick things up a notch, don’t you think, Shiemi?”
The opponents were engaged in their private dance of lithe and graceful acrobatic movements were too preoccupied to pay the ill-omened weather any mind, let alone exchange words—only blows.
Sweat climbed steadily down the young woman’s temple and down the bridge of her nose as evidence of the tension she felt—tension that was mirrored in the lines of the young man’s face across from her, the way his jaw cut the darkness in a clenched jut of white, the tendons and veins that bulged prominently under the pressure he enforced upon them.
Shiemi’s grip tightened in apprehension while her arms shook in their hold against Rin’s katana sword with her branch-like staff of Australian buloke wood. It helped that he’d flipped his blade so that the dull side faced her to prevent any potentially serious wounds, but she saw that little mischievous spark in his eyes—a telltale sign that he was about to unleash his attack, and she needed to act quickly and accordingly.
Cerulean sputtering flames began to spark to life around her, reflecting in Shiemi's eyes like flickering fireflies. She’d been right about his intentions to attack. She summoned an earthen fortification against the sudden blue fire brimming the darkness, swelling fast towards her. The fire was eating up any available oxygen around her in its swift approach, even as her chest heaved and her throat greedily sucked for air. The meager defense the rammed wall offered wouldn’t last for long, but at least it was something against the lethal onslaught Rin rained down.
She tensed against the lapping heat swarming her, sweat careening down her brow and into her eyes where the drops stung and clouded her vision like tears. She felt streams of it dot her lashes as she fought to blink them out of her gaze, swiping the back of her hand across her forehead and shoving away her sticky bangs from her flushed face. The short rocky barrier offered temporary reprieve before the summon crumbled before her, baked into a brittle dust by her adversary’s fire.
The added aid of Nee-chan’s magic—a pleasantly surprising amount of magic for such a small, spritely green spirit—notwithstanding, Shiemi was beginning to feel the effects of the long and difficult fight.
Her hands were raw and dirt-scraped from catching herself more than a few times from falling; her limbs felt as if all but a few drops of blood were drained out of them. She grit her teeth as her arms hung at her sides and tingled painfully. She knew it was because she had pushed her muscles too far, and now they were painfully tight from the abuse she had put them through.
Even her skin and clothes had not escaped harm and were torn and littered with grass stains and mud. Mild scrapes from landing on concrete and asphalt left a series of gashes streaking her flesh. Small bruises had given her spots to match the stripes and were quickly becoming large, painful knots.
Yet, she ducked her head and dug her heels into the earth against the hot, forceful winds that came in waves stirred and driven by the molten heat eager in the blue fire. Her body wilted with fatigue and seemed ready to collapse, but her determination held strong.
Not yet, she thought. I won’t give up just yet.
Shiemi pursed her lips and clenched her hands into fists at her sides, trying to work the feeling back into them. She squinted into the wind and heat, damp eyelids heavy in her weariness. But her irises blazed a vibrant green freckled with pale fire in the gloom of the stormy night.
Her resolve to become stronger overpowered the need for rest. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—quit now. She needed to be pushed to her limits—and beyond, if possible. She had labored long and hard for this moment. No, she would not be a coward. She refused to sell herself so short as to waste everything she’d worked for until now.
She had to prove herself. Shiemi wanted—no, she needed—him to see that she was a worthy opponent. By the heavens above, everything hurt like hell, but inside she had wretchedly ached for this moment to come.
Her mind reeled back to the bet she’d made with Rin. There was just too much at stake. The cost of losing this match would do more than just damage her chances at getting stronger; it was something she absolutely could not afford to lose.
Shiemi searched the sky for the not-quite-a-boy-and-not-quite-a-man that was her sparring partner. Her eyes landed instantly on him, wreathed as he was in his cursed flames. She took note of the whirlwind that held him suspended above and slightly to the left of her—a move he’d only just perfected two months ago when he’d discovered that he could create a miniature twister using the heat from his flames to stir the air much like the way he would stir straw-like noodles into limp resignation. It was just like how he would cook, too: meticulous in his practice but made to look effortless by his ease of movement.
When she looked at him, Shiemi thought he could’ve been an angel, so divine did he look towering above the earth with his beautiful fire curling and breaking like ocean waves against his skin and the air pirouetting gracefully around him, stirring his clothes and hair gently. But his serrated teeth, imp-like ears, clawed hands, horns, and tail all conjured an image of a dragon from a few of the fairy tales her grandmother had told her as a child.
He might’ve looked every bit of a half-demon and then some, but to her and their friends, he was a foil to every one of the enemies they’d had the luck of facing so far in their path of becoming exorcists. Rin could be an utter brute and a buffoon sometimes, and he could be unruly in his habits and appearance to the point of being downright sloppy; but so was he also compassionate and selfless, and a kind, loyal friend. He was the villain dancing to the hero’s tune because conventionality was never something that Rin had aimed for when he had set his sights on becoming an exorcist while knowing very well that the enemy he swore to annihilate had fathered him, that his heart, filled with a yearning for compassion to give and receive alike, pumped the blood of an evil deity that reviled humanity through his body. He was comfortable looking a criminal—it had always been a part of him—but never playing the part. She knew it killed him inside to hurt others and could never truly belong in the ranks of such vile company.
In other words, he may have been the dragon, but so, too, was he the knight.
Seeing the thrill of the fight thrumming through her body as she grinned haughtily back at him with each resulting victory on her side in their game was an unbelievably big turn on for Rin Okumura. This was simultaneously an issue and wasn’t one, depending. In and of itself, arousal was a pleasant feeling, one that Rin would typically welcome with open arms should he have been alone and could take care of it for himself. It was at times like the present, however, when he wasn’t alone, that it was a curse.
Harshly, he pushed away thoughts of ending the fight prematurely and pushing her to the ground and pinning her there with his attentive hands, lips frantically sliding over her own, chests pressed together like desperate palms held in prayer, fingers raking through each other’s hair.
Shit.
He roared, furiously shoving down every one of those forbidden daydreams. Now was the time to focus solely on the fight, not fantasize about one of his female classmates.
Rin reflected on Shiemi’s progress throughout the ordeal, remembering how her smiles had slowly replaced her cries of protest and frustration, and he even grinned despite himself. She was getting better. Slowly, but surely, Shiemi was coming into her own. She would be formidable in her own right.
It’s true, he thought. When they had started their match, Shiemi had tried in vain to dodge each one of his predictable attacks, running on pure instinct and only just managing to narrowly escape his onslaught, which had only left her needlessly exhausted and little to no effort spent on his side. He could’ve been taking a nap for all the difficulty or lack of she gave him.
He’d been angry and aroused, and he’d wanted this fight to end quickly, preferably with him on top in more ways than one.
C’mon, he’d thought. Quit playing the defense like you always do. You’ve got no one to back up but yourself now. You have to fight back.
He’d had no choice but to push her over the edge, and had almost ruthlessly exploited each and every one of her weaknesses, starting with the openings she’d left in her defense, which wasn’t difficult at all considering she’d only appeared to be actively protecting her head and torso, most likely because of a natural reflex. Everything else had been thoughtlessly left vulnerable.
Each opening he’d found and used to his advantage had made him angrier. He’d growled at her to alleviate some of that pent-up tension, which had only earned him some confused and timid glances from her.
Though, to be fair, Rin had called out to her before any one of his attacks, so that she at least had the advantage of a heads up. The moments between he’d left for her to quickly think of a course of action to take.
Before long, Shiemi had realized she could dodge and simultaneously launch one of her own attacks back at him. Then, of course, from there on she had improved steadily in her thinking and fighting. She held her ground now, strategized and remained efficient in her darting away from the keen inferno when Rin would compromise her position. She conserved her energy and spent it as economically as possible.
—And at some point in between, she’d come to grasp the concept of baiting and luring.
Shiemi had effectively cornered Rin twice (shit!), and though he had eventually escaped both times from her aptly named root, devil’s snare, it had taken him long enough that had it been a real battle, Rin doubted his adversary would be polite enough to wait for him to break free.
She’s good, he’d thought with both pride for his sparring partner and in chastisement of himself for letting his guard down. She even got me to expend a good amount of my energy. He’d underestimated her.
He wasn’t so careless to make the same mistake a third time. Though Rin had wasted a good portion of his power, he still had more than enough to end the match in his favor—if he used it wisely.
After he’d managed to avoid another two of Shiemi’s attempts to trap him, Rin decided he’d kick things up a notch again.
He increased his speed subtly, only just picking up the pace with which he engaged Shiemi in combat so as not to overwhelm her, but merely enough to give her a challenge in discerning his movements with sometimes only an instant for her to react in time to the renewed strength behind his blows.
Rin pushed her to the edge of her abilities, and Shiemi was beginning to grow desperate. She was on the brink of defeat, barely managing to block the attacks her opponent threw at her with particular tenacity, her reserves for any potential spells bleeding dry.
I was in over my head, she thought, her body surging forward in submission to gravity and pushing off at the last moment in a small burst of speed to save herself from a potentially nasty hit Rin threw her way. I was never a match. I’m weak.
I’m going to lose.
The thought twisted through her like a knife. Shiemi faltered, and in dropping her guard, was on the receiving end of a sharp blow to her stomach by the flat of Rin’s sword. She flew backwards and stumbled as she tried to straighten her stance. Her matted bangs hung in her weary eyes, but there was a stubborn tilt to her mouth that made Rin continue his assault, though with some pause.
If I lose… I can’t lose. If I lose, then it’ll all be for nothing .
Rin and Yukio standing together off to the side when she apologized to her mother, the brothers each smiling softly in their own way. They were happy then. Content. There was an unspoken comradery there that had been broken and refashioned together, where a fragile new bond grew in the spaces between “just brothers.” She thought it looked a little like respect.
That bond she tried so hard to replicate with Izumo, only to realize theirs was a unique sort of bond, not dissimilar to the twins and their begrudging mutual admiration because that was Izumo down to a tee. The girl’s approval was hard-earned and her friendship even harder earned. “I’ll protect you,” Izumo had told her in the roundabout way because her morals dictated it. Not because she wanted to. Not because she liked the too-nice blonde weakling girl. “I’m going to save you,” Shiemi had replied, and she had indeed saved Izumo in more ways than one. Her friend’s encouragement in Shiemi’s frequent moments of doubt.
“You’re strong,” she said, her eyes fixed on Shiemi sternly. “You’re going to make a great exorcist one day.”
Her mother in the supply shop, beckoning her to the kitchen. “We need to talk,” she said. “There’s something I have to tell you.” The words that followed that had torn her world apart and stolen the ground beneath her feet.
I don’t want to know! Powerlessness and fear gave way to an abrupt thrill of dangerous exhilaration. It became a surge of raw power that rioted through her system in an intoxicating mixture of pain and pleasure.
It was as if she were dying of thirst only to have a waterfall rain down upon her with a triumphant roar to replenish her from the inside out. It geysered outward in a blur of energy that overwhelmed Shiemi with the force of its strength, and she felt as if her cells were beginning to unravel with each passing second it remained inside of her. It took everything she had for her to clamp down onto it and bend it to her will, funneling it into a single command, a single unwitting intention born out of pure instinct.
“Stop!” The word was torn from her throat, and, in turn, the energy was ripped from her body, leaving her insides feeling raw and exposed as her skin steamed from the heat generated.
A song filled her, bursting with a yearning sort of quality and too low to hear with her human ears, but loud enough for it to echo through her bones hollowly in an unexpectedly pleasant way that fortified her.
Shiemi thought she’d been blinded, but only when she finally brought a hand to her face to feel for any damage did she realize that, no, she wasn’t blind—she’d just closed her eyes from the strain of containing the energy that had churned angrily within her.
Upon slowly opening them, she was surprised to find relative quiet and darkness before fully scanning her surroundings with a wary sweeping glance.
The thing pulsed in a strange fashion before her, and it was so large and overwhelming that at first, she wasn’t sure what it was until closer inspection revealed that it was a shield crafted from intertwining tree branches and other flora acting as a reinforcing glue. The vibrations it emitted were so fast it was merely a constant hum, and upon examining the edges of it, Shiemi came to the conclusion that the thing was rotating so quickly that her eyes registered only the slightest blur to the outer rim of it.
But what surprised her most of all about the shield was that it was familiar in its signature aura that she’d recognize as belonging to the earthen realm, much like her little sprite Nee-chan. Yet, if that were true, it would mean that the power that had surged up from within her had summoned that beast of a thing.
Where on earth had all that power come from?
Rin had faltered when he’d managed to land a hit on Shiemi using the blunt side of his katana, but had continued, albeit hesitantly, when he received a glare so intense it seemed to burn right through him. He had full on pulled back from his assault when the air around her started to spark and shimmer with intense heat.
When she screamed, it tore at his heart in the worst possible way. The sound of it was gut-wrenching in its desperation and sadness, as if Shiemi had given up everything that had had any meaning to her just so that some sort of agony would cease its torture of her poor soul.
“Stop!” was the word she’d screamed, but where was she directing the command? It didn’t sound as if she were speaking to Rin, but more as if she was voicing a thought that was aimed at herself in something like frustration, much like the glare she’d given him earlier hadn’t really landed on Rin. It was as if she were staring beyond him at something else.
Yet, those suspicions aside, he obeyed her command long enough for a particularly complex spell to be cast by Shiemi. He suspected the summon had been unintentional because she hadn’t called out any other words that resembled an invocation outside of her last outburst. Despite this fact, she’d conjured a generously-sized—scratch that, more like massive to the point of absurdity—shield of hardy vegetation that braided itself in a labyrinthine pattern. It cast a heavy shadow in spite of the storm’s overcast sky. Something like dread filled his stomach as he realized the darkness was threatening Rin in an eerie show of dominance.
“Shiemi?” he called to her, cupping a hand to the side of his mouth to magnify his voice. Hopefully it could reach from behind the huge fucking wall (seriously, holy shit, Shiemi) that stood between them. “Are you okay?!”
“Yeah!” Her response sounded dazed, but the relief that flooded him was immediate. “I’m okay! Let’s keep going!”
The resolve in her voice had Rin smirking. Damn, that girl was something else. Shiemi was just so strong, so brave, so kind, so gods-damned beautiful…
He allowed his thoughts to trail off into the back of his mind as he focused on the monstrosity of a barrier that stood between him and the girl of his dreams. He promised himself that he’d ask her about the strange display of power that had occurred later, but decided their match, and consequently their little bet, took priority for now.
Rin threw his best into his attacks and growled in frustration at his lack of results. Whenever he’d managed to damage it, the damn shield would quickly repair itself as the plants grew back into place just as they were before, as if it had never been touched.
What the hell?
He paused long enough that when Rin strained his ears, he could pick up a low frequency hum the shield itself emitted. Curious, he leapt closer, resorting to using himself as a projectile in an admittedly overly eager attempt to penetrate the thick weave of shrubbery.
He launched himself feet first, reasoning that this was safest. After all, head-first would be foolhardy if it so happened that the impact ricocheted against him; he was rather protective of his brain cells and his (what he deemed semi-attractive) face. One could say he’d learned this fact a few too many times before, in spite of having quite literally a thick skull.
Rin let the surprise show in his expression as his feet made harsh contact with the shield’s convex surface. He could feel something electric travel up his legs and to his torso and finally his head. The sensation blurred his vision and dizzied him as it threw off his equilibrium.
The shield vibrated, he realized too late. And spun.
The half-demon kicked off seemingly as soon as his feet had alighted atop the surface, using Shiemi’s shield as a makeshift bounding pad of sorts and landed unsteadily a few yards away. In the chill air his breaths came in quick, vaporous clouds made tangible by the cold. Rain began to fall slowly, dripping into the dry soil, which drank up the moisture greedily.
Feeling his nose running from the cool air, Rin reached up and swiped it with the back of his hand and wrist, only to pull away and find blood smeared over his skin instead of watery mucus.
What..?
His eyes widened in sudden understanding, even as his brain began shimmering inside his skull, bright lights exploding like stars behind his eyes and dizzying him. The shield, he thought dazedly. The vibrations are a lot stronger than I’d realized.
At that precise moment, Rin collapsed to his knees. He closed his eyes against the vertigo that assaulted him and pressed his hands to the sides of his head to no avail as he keeled sideways to the rain-dampened ground. His stomach twisted with nausea, and, too soon, Rin had only just managed to clamber to his hands and knees to retch onto the dirt below him.
He lowered himself to his elbows as saliva continued to dribble from his mouth and chin. There were tears at the corners of his eyes that had come from the force of his body purging itself of his stomach contents. Rin panted, fighting to gain control of himself.
This battle was not over yet.
Shiemi had felt Rin attacking her shield from every which way, and despite having summoned the impressive defense at the cost of the very last dregs of her and Nee-chan’s remaining power, she couldn’t help the prideful feelings for its extraordinary effectiveness even against the likes of a half-demon – and the son of Satan, too, at that. It not only held up against his onslaught of flames, but it had also healed itself when Rin’s inferno managed to burn through.
She became in tune with its own pulsing life energy, a sort of hum that buzzed through her limbs comfortingly—yet another advantage to this costly defense: its vibrations were strong enough to deflect many physically dense attacks back at their owner.
The only thing sustaining her was the droning feedback of her shield. It was a miracle that she managed to stay standing.
But at the sound of Rin heaving, only just discernible from the drizzling rain, another kind of energy spurred her into action.
Shiemi immediately dropped her shield, surging forward when her summon and Nee-chan dissipated in a vaporous cloud. Through the haze of rain, she could make out the form of the teenaged boy folded close to the near-muddy ground on his knees and elbows, his head hanging despondently between his arms.
“Rin!” she called. This new frantic energy pushed her, filling her with an overwhelming anxiety. What had happened? “Rin!” Shiemi dropped to her knees beside Rin, bending over him, ready to help him to his feet, but she hesitated, hovering over his back as she stared down at him. Her hand reached over to his shoulder, the other instinctively pressing into the small of his back.
“Rin,” Shiemi whispered, and Rin heard the rising panic in her voice.
His ink-black hair hung limply in his face, curling slightly from the rain. He was gaining back his senses relatively fast, most likely due to his inhuman half’s heritage, but he was using his condition to his advantage.
Perhaps this wasn’t the most honorable way to win a match, but he couldn’t help but feel a little mischievous whenever Shiemi was involved. He was playing dirty, but Rin had to show her that just because she was up against the likes of him didn’t mean that her future foes would fight fair.
And then there was that bet.
When Rin felt Shiemi’s hands on him, not gentle like he expected her to be, but rather strong and steady, he involuntarily let out a deep shiver. Her touch told him that she was prepared to support him should he lose consciousness. Her concern and determination to protect him flooded Rin with a dozen emotions, most notably affection. All the feelings he’d managed to suppress came rushing back at a shamefully alarming rate. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, but he unwittingly held onto the feeling of companionship and dearness he felt for her if a little selfishly.
It made him feel regretful for what he was about to do.
Rin made himself pliant under her, succumbing to the pressure she carefully exerted on him. Shiemi pushed on him until he was forced to lie on his back. She had shifted her hold on his shoulder to cradle the base of his skull, steadying his head for him. The back of her hand was painted with mud. Rin had felt her fingers curl and graze his neck as she gingerly removed them from under him. The very tips of her fingers had trailed lightly up behind his ear and over his jaw, and he’d shuddered again. He had to stare up at her by looking down his nose when she pulled away and sat back tiredly on her heels. It was then that he realized her defense had cost her a heavy price for its strength. Her summons had drained her dry before, and this last one had seemingly appeared in a last ditch effort her body had made in a panic, and the only thing keeping her moving now was adrenaline.
Concern stirred him. He knew he had to end this as soon as he could.
Shiemi, mistaking his trembling for something else, leaned forward, her face coming into view over him. “Rin? Are you okay? You’re shaking…what happened?”
Rin froze when his eyes met hers. He could feel himself floating up, up, up into them, ready to surrender himself to her. Why was she so caring? Especially for the likes of him? His tongue felt thick for more than one reason when he spoke. “Your shield. I kicked it. Vibrations did something to my head.”
Her look of concern turned into one of immense guilt. “Rin—"
Shiemi had felt something tickling one of her ankles, and up until that point, had assumed it was just a trickle of rain sitting in the indent above her ankle bone. But then the tickling sensation traced up her leg and to her knee—letting her know that this wasn’t rain at all. Something like a smooth rope snaked around her calf.
“Shiemi,” Rin whispered, his voice strangely tight. “I’m sorry for this.”
She could’ve blinked and missed everything as the world lurched around her. Albeit, in her exhausted state, Shiemi couldn’t process that kind of speed even with her eyes wide open.
She’d been flipped onto her back next to Rin’s fallen form, her hips and shoulders making blunt contact with the earth before her head followed, rebounding slightly from the force. Her skull hit the ground hard, and Shiemi found herself staring emptily up at the dreary sky. Raindrops landed on her cheeks with increasing speed.
“Shit!” Almost instantly Rin was on top of her, his body like a canopy saving her from the sudden downpour. It was as if the rain had decided then that this was the peak moment to fall full-force, she dully noted.
“How’s your head?” Rin asked. His expression looked remorseful. “I’m sorry,” he added after a moment of silence and repeating his apology. “I didn’t realize I’d spun you that hard.”
Shiemi’s eyes found Rin’s face, his words taking her a long few seconds to process before she realized what had happened, understanding only dawning on her after she dazedly watched Rin’s sinuous tail flick the air behind his body, water droplets issuing from the paintbrush-like end.
She wanted to be angry with him for cheating, but she couldn’t bring herself to be when her gaze drifted to the dried blood that stood out starkly from the boy’s fair skin, smudged around his nose and upper lip.
She wasn’t sure how she had missed it before. Maybe it had been her exhaustion or her adrenaline or even her relief when she realized Rin had been okay in the brief moment when she’d initially looked him over.
Her eyebrows knit together of their own accord, and Rin was sure she was going to be upset with him. Why wouldn’t she be? He’d manipulated her with her own genuine and selfless feelings of concern for him and used her emotions against her.
When her hand slowly raised and cupped his cheek, he froze. The look in her eyes had him confounded.
“You really were hurt?” she asked, referring to his bloody nose. She could feel a slight stubble brush back against her skin, and the itchy tickle of it made her stomach flip in giddiness. Another few days of no shaving and he’d have a five o’clock shadow.
Rin blinked at her. What? Was she still concerned for him after he’d rubbed that back in her face? How was that possible? How could anyone let their anger for someone fade so fast only to be replaced with compassion for that very same person? She couldn’t possibly be human, though the body that molded solidly to his beneath him told him otherwise (dammit, he didn’t need those kind of thoughts right now!). Shiemi was just so dedicated, so transparent, so earnest in her actions. Everything about her screamed purity.
That innocence would be the death of him.
“I’m okay,” Rin said after a moment of regaining his composure. He wanted to keep her from worrying about him. He didn’t deserve it, and he knew it. Why doesn’t she see that? Nonetheless, he would do his best to reassure her. Despite his blushing, he fought the urge to frown at his own embarrassment and gave her a small smile. “You did a pretty big number on me back there, but I’m fine now.”
Shiemi’s hand fell away; Rin mourned its loss—the warmth and soothing contact had made him feel a strange but comfortable calm.
He watched intently as her fallen arm moved at her side, and her hand disappeared into her pocket. From it she withdrew an ornately embroidered square of pastel-colored cloth—a handkerchief.
Rin remained still as Shiemi wiped at the blood on his face with enough pressure to ensure the cloth came away more stained than his skin, but done so gingerly that not once did he flinch from pain.
When at last she pulled her hand away revealing red-dotted blue birds and ferns curling around the corners of the cloth, signaling she was finished, he smiled despite himself. Of course, Shiemi, of all people, would casually keep a fresh supply of handy handkerchiefs ready for emergencies in her pockets.
She offered a smile of her own, a far more brilliant and beautiful one than he could ever give her, and for that Rin smiled wider. The warmth he felt for her expanded, filling him until he was ready to burst.
Rin found himself laughing then—at himself, at her, at this moment. He laughed because he was happy and at peace. The feelings bubbled up and out of him in the form of laughter. Rin pressed his forehead to Shiemi’s as a gesture of immense affection when he heard her giggling with him.
It was too soon when the moment ended between them when they dared to raise their eyes and stare at one another in wonder and curiosity.
It was too easily this moment of innocent, chaste bliss slipped away when Shiemi realized their proximity, and all the penalties that came with that fact, such as the way her senses oddly tingled, hyperaware of his very presence.
His chest pressed against hers, and Shiemi could feel his heart hammering against her own frantic one. Her breathing increased dramatically; it seemed as if his chest was crushing hers now, but strangely, she didn't mind...
She shook her head forcefully at the insane thoughts, her skull knocking into something. It was then she noticed how his bare arms boxed in her head—and how one of his knees happened to land in between her legs when it brushed against her thigh in response. The action made her blush. Usually, just the very idea of someone being so close would make her squirm quite uncomfortably, but her limbs were trapped, and she couldn't move.
The blonde felt warm breath on her face that made her shiver peculiarly. Rin's face was so utterly close to hers. She could see every detail in his dark sapphire eyes and count the black lashes, graze his expressive lips—
Her eyes flickered to his, and she inhaled sharply at what she thought she saw there.
An overwhelming tenderness seemed to reach out from the depths of his gaze and hold her in place, and not at all in an unpleasant way. There was searching in his eyes, and uncertainty. There was humbleness and a strange sort of sadness. Most of all, there was a question he seemed to be asking. A question meant for her.
Shiemi was overwhelmed with these feelings. What were they? What did they mean? She had no experience when it came to romance. She didn’t even have the usual references most people her age had come to know as common knowledge. No, she didn’t have any love stories to reflect on like in the movies and books. She didn’t have a phone, let alone Internet. How was she supposed to know? She was feeling around the emotion and the very concept blindly in the dark.
But she knew some things. She at least knew what kissing was, and understood biology and certain functions the human body used to procreate. Her mother had certainly talked about enough of the details of what a future marriage for her daughter would mean after Shiemi let her curiosity run wild on her when she was younger and her mother had indulged a little too much in the sake.
So when Shiemi’s gaze almost imperceptibly shifted to Rin’s lips for the smallest moment, she gave her answer when she again caught Rin’s eyes that had noticed her turn in attention. It didn’t surprise her, seeing as how his powers would likely enhance many of his senses, especially those pertaining to battle survival—and perhaps most vitally, sight.
His own gaze shifted then to her lips, quickly flicking back up to hers. Again, the same question. Rin needed to be sure. There was no second-guessing this. He couldn’t be impulsive. This wasn’t one of his reckless battles.
This was Shiemi. This was one of his very first friends. This was one of his closest friends.
In response, Shiemi’s eyes fluttered closed, leaving herself vulnerable and open to him. It was a gesture of complete trust.
Again, the same answer.
If Rin had been surprised at her silent answer before, he was astounded at this reassurance. The utter confidence she held for him nearly broke him. It was such a humbling thing to have another person place their entire faith in oneself. He was left breathless with the knowledge.
Mind made up, and with Shiemi’s consent, Rin slowly lowered his head to just a hair’s breadth from her face.
Shiemi, with her eyes closed, felt Rin’s face hovering over her own. Rather than the claustrophobic feeling she’d originally anticipated, she felt sheltered beneath him. Had she opened her eyes, there would’ve been no room for distractions. Merely, there would’ve only been him and him alone with his attention rapt with her and her needs. Her world narrowed to just them—them and the heat of their bodies guarding against the chill permeating the night air and the rain that drenched their clothes.
Shiemi’s heart thrummed like the wings of a hummingbird. She was close to passing out from lack of oxygen; she was unwittingly holding her breath as if she could stop time at just this moment. She was scared and unprepared, yet she was wanting this—oh, by the gods and heavens above, she wanted this. For a while now, these emotions had come to the forefront of her mind whenever she saw Rin. This overwhelming affection and anxiety for him had led to so many more random blushes where he was concerned. He’d confessed to her a year ago about his feelings of wanting to be more than friends for her, but she hadn’t been ready. She hadn’t even considered him in that way. Rin was just Rin to her.
Though that hadn’t stopped her from holding a special place for him in her heart. Rin had been the first to not coddle her when she became upset. He didn’t treat her like she was fragile and unknowingly belittle her. No, he expected more of her. He was the first to treat her like her real age and not some fumbling child in an adult’s world. He was the first to make her feel like an equal by giving her the space she needed and pushing her when she was scared and force her to become more confident and stronger. He saw her as another vulnerable, but fierce player in this newfound, treacherous game.
He made her feel like a woman by desiring her. By confronting her about her feelings, he had unknowingly opened up a new train of thought for her, a new consideration because even though maybe his younger brother, Yukio, had feelings for her, he treated them as unwanted thoughts. And neither did Rin hold her at arm’s length because of his feelings, but he held her just as closely as he had before. Where Yukio was perhaps cooler and more polished, Rin was warm and real and natural.
Rin wasn’t patient when it came to most things. In fact, he could throw a downright tantrum in some cases. But when it came to others, he swallowed his pride and put aside his needs and wants because he truly did value the relationships he had with those people; he truly valued the people closest to him like his most precious treasure that he wouldn’t trade for the world. So while he had desired a different, more intimate relationship at the time with her, and while he had initially been disappointed, he had brushed aside his own feelings of hurt and remained thankful for her friendship. He hadn’t been resentful in the slightest and had continued to treat her just as he had before.
She hadn’t realized how difficult that could be for someone until she realized her own feelings a little while later. Sure, she had known she held Rin in a somewhat different regard from her other friends. It had been obvious when she’d rejected Rin so long ago, when she had wanted so badly to ask him to wait for her because she wasn’t ready, she wasn’t mature enough, she couldn’t match him just yet as his equal in that regard. But she had refrained, pursing her mouth tightly closed to keep the words from escaping.
She didn’t want to make him wait for her. Wasn’t that just cruel like the books Izumo had lent her had said? What if she decided she didn’t like him after all? What if she made him wait so long that he felt obligated to his feelings for her and didn’t allow himself to have those feelings for someone else, maybe someone who treasured him more than herself? What if his feelings weren’t that serious? After all, he’d only just turned sixteen a couple of months later. They were so young and the world was still so big.
But slowly, even as the date of his confession grew ever more distant from the present, her feelings for him grew with the time past. Soon, she was longing for him so often that he was on her mind nearly always—sometimes only at the back of her thoughts, but enough that her daydreams would always come full circle back to him.
There were shameful nights where she positively ached for him and especially his physical presence. She found her hormones would absolutely sing at their highest notes possible at these times as she lay in the dark under her covers, staring up at the ceiling above her bed mournfully.
Were these thoughts okay? Were they allowed? What even were they? Because while affection and tenderness reminiscent of romantic and even platonic love would sweep in around her, there was always a darker and heavier presence that lurked beneath and overwhelmed her. They were deeply physical and carnal in how they negatively seemed to affect her. Possessiveness, heat, and a closeness so crushing she couldn’t breathe were things that she felt at these times.
At those low points, she had come to think that Rin didn’t like her in that way anymore, if not for the time that had passed between her rejection and present day that would naturally soften any previous convictions he’d had about her or the likelihood that time had made him change his mind about her, then it would be the reaction he’d have if he still had these romantic feelings and ever knew of the thoughts that took place during her most vulnerable nights. She knew he’d be repulsed and she couldn’t bear the thought of it.
And it was why this moment was pure torture for her.
Their lips were about to touch, the very edges of their sensitive flesh grazing like the most tempting of itches when there was a sound like the world ending.