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It happened fast. One moment, they had the demon cornered, trapped under Jin Ling’s shaky but stable golden dome, the next moment, there was a sound of branches snapping, leaves rustling from behind and something – he didn’t see what – grabbed Sizhui from behind, pulling him back along with it into the dark woods.
Sizhui heard the surprised shouts, the calls of his name, before he and his captor were far out of earshot. And still, they kept moving, deeper and deeper into the woods.
Sizhui breathed in, filling his lungs as best he could against the crushing grip of the creature. He took a moment to assess, even as the backwards rushing of trees to his left and right made him dizzy.
He looked down, seeing purpled, decaying skin. Claws that doubled the length of the fingers gripped into his chest, his stomach. He ignored the flash of pain that accompanied seeing just how far in the claws dug.
This looked like the same sort of demon they’d been dealing with before. Vulnerable to being attacked on all sides, quick enough that fighting one on one was much harder.
But he wasn’t dead yet. So the demon must have had another motive, other than killing him outright.
And whether that motive was keeping him as its own or there was some more specific method it wanted to use to dispose of the young cultivator, there was no way it was good, though the former would give him more time to escape, he supposed.
Ok. So what could he reach?
The demon’s arms clamped his arms close to his body, and there was no way to contort his arm to reach his sword, and not much he could do with it even if he somehow could.
His sleeves then. What was in his sleeves? He tried to remember, moving his arms softly to see what he could find without attracting suspicion as the demon dragged him ever deeper, as the trees grew ever denser.
Perfect! His skin brushed paper. He was still carrying blank talisman paper from earlier – Wei-qianbei had been teaching him some basics these last few months and he had been practicing before he and his friends had set out on this night hunt.
Ok. Good. Talisman paper could help him do all kinds of things so long as he could cut his finger on something and manage to get the paper into his hand and somehow write the characters and symbols needed.
He bent his wrist, flinching in anticipation before… WHAM, a branch whacked into his fingers, slicing the skin. The branch had certainly let the blood flow, but had maybe broken a finger or two in the process. Something to worry about later, hopefully.
So now to shift the talisman paper down. Slowly… slowly. There!
The paper fell into his palm. He shifted it awkwardly to the tips of his pinkie finger and thumb, trying not to get any blood on it, hoping the air rushing by hadn’t dried the blood too quickly. He stretched his index finger back and touched the paper, relieved to find his finger slid across easily, plenty of blood still running freely, though he flinched as his maybe-broken-maybe-not finger pressed against the page.
He worked quickly, and, hoping the talisman was well drawn enough to work, stuck it onto the demon wherever he could reach.
The demon dropped like a stone, Sizhui able to celebrate only a moment before the ground met him and the demon. There was a loud crack, and Sizhui had no doubt that his arm had just broken. But that was not important right now.
Sizhui, as soon as they hit the ground, had been ready. The demon released its grip in its shock only momentarily, but Sizhui used this time to roll quickly away.
The demon was pinned to the ground by the charm, but this would not hold for long. Taking only a few moments to calm his breaths, Sizhui drew his sword, grateful that his sword arm had only potential finger fractures, not definite arm breaks. He swung his arm high.
But before he could lower the blade, three sets of arrows landed in the demon’s core. It struggled, shuddered, then lay still.
Sizhui stood, frozen in shock, arm still raised though the strike was now unnecessary. He blinked once, twice. The only sound his heart, pounding in his ears.
“Sizhui!” Jingyi’s voice shook him out of his trance. He lowered his sword, sheathing it.
He turned. Jin Ling, Ouyang Zizhen and Lan Jingyi stumbled out from the brush into the small clearing created by the demon crashing down into it. He beamed widely at his friends, even as tears of fear, of relief, filled his eyes, “Y-you’re h-here!” he managed, voice shakier than he had anticipated.
“Of course we’re here, where else would we–“ Jingyi’s eyes widened, spotting the odd angle that Sizhui’s arm hung at, the tears in his robes where the monster had gripped him, the probably not insubstantial cuts on his face from the branches on the way down, “You’re hurt!”
“Ah,” Sizhui smiled weakly, “It’s nothing, really. I’m fine.”
He really wished his knee hadn’t wobbled, buckled, just as he said that. He straightened back up quickly though.
“Sure you are,” Jingyi replied.
“You’re bleeding!” Zizhen said.
Jin Ling, eyes wide and staring at the place where Sizhui gripped his arm, said nothing, but moved over to Sizhui, sliding an arm under his (mostly) uninjured arm, supporting him.
“Let’s get you out of here,” Jin Ling said.
And suddenly Jingyi was at his other side, gently supporting his back, avoiding touching his arm, “Yeah, let’s go. We sent up a signal. Help should be here soon.”
Sizhui’s smile wavered. “Help” would certainly mean some combination of Hanguang-jun, Wei-qianbei, and Wen-xiansheng, and if any of them saw him half-carried in like this…
“Ah, I’m really fine! I can walk!” Sizhui chuckled, trying to make light of the situation, “It was my arms, not my legs, remember?”
“Sizhui…” Zizhen said skeptically, casting his gaze backwards towards the clearing, the mess made by Sizhui and the demon’s fall, and traced the path from there up to Sizhui’s still bleeding wounds, his broken arm, “I don’t really know if you’re in a state where you should…”
Sizhui sighed, “Well… Zizhen, I think you said you brought bandages with you? Can we at least, ah, wrap the worst of it before we get back?”
Sizhui couldn’t see his face, but he knew Jingyi well enough to know he had just rolled his eyes, “You really think they’re not going to notice if we just ‘wrap up the worst of it’?”
Sizhui let a smile flicker across his face, “Are you refusing me treatment, Jingyi?”
“You know, everyone thinks you’re so nice, but sometimes, you’re insufferable.” Jingyi laughed, but he and Jin Ling set him down.
Sizhui closed his eyes, trying to focus on breathing, on healing as Zizhen wiped his face clean with a dry cloth, wrapped his arm, his torso, and his fingers in bandages. Sizhui smiled gently, without opening his eyes, at his friend’s occasional sniffling as he uncovered more of the wounds, “I’m really ok, Zizhen.”
“Stop that.” Jin Ling cut in sharply.
Sizhui frowned, confused, “Stop what?”
“Stop just…” Jin Ling huffed in frustration, “Stop acting like we’re the ones who need help, who need comforting. You’re… you’re hurt! We should have been there to help you before, and now at least let us help you now!”
“But…” Sizhui was at a loss for words, concentration completely broken. He opened his eyes, “But you were there to help? I was the one who got caught off-guard, got taken, got…” his breath quickened, remembering those moments of fear. Where all he could do was consider whether he was in immediate or more long-term risk of harm. Moments where he wasn’t sure yet if he was defenseless, subject entirely to the demon’s whims.
“Sizhui?” Jingyi cut into his thoughts, voice full of concern.
“It’s… it’s nothing. Just thinking.” Sizhui smiled again.
“You know…” Jingyi crossed his arms, watching as Zizhen pulled the bandage tight around Sizhui’s arm, holding it in place, making Sizhui flinch involuntarily, “I don’t say this a lot, but I agree with Jin Ling. You’re allowed to lean on us, even just for a moment.”
Sizhui opened his mouth to protest, but lost any hope of winning this argument as Zizhen nodded easily alongside Jingyi’s comment.
If all three of them were agreeing, then he supposed maybe there was something to it. They all looked at him. Bandaging done, waiting for him to tell them how they should proceed, varying degrees of concern, skepticism, and disapproval on each of their faces.
“So?” Jingyi asked.
Sizhui relented, “Fine. I’ll take your help,” he smiled mischievously, “as long as none of you take any blame, or guilt from this?”
“No promises, but I’ll try.” Jingyi said, smirking as the other two nodded. He moved a hand back behind Sizhui, boosting him from one side as Jin Ling helped from the other.
“I’ll take it.” Sizhui laughed.
They chatted about nothing on the way back to the field in which they had started.
To Sizhui’s dismay, but also a little to his amusement, he spotted an endlessly pacing Wei Wuxian, a tense and stiff Hanguang-jun, and a nervous and watchful Wen Qionglin all waiting for them.
At the sound of movement, all three tensed, preparing to defend against anything that might emerge, but immediately relaxed at the sight of the four juniors. Smiling and (mostly) well.
At the sight of Sizhui, Wei Wuxian fussed. Hanguang-jun asked many questions. Wen Qionglin pulled out some tinctures he had brought “just in case.”
They made it back to Cloud Recesses, and Sizhui was sent immediately to bed – no arguing allowed. As Sizhui lay back on his bed, he thought about the day, the demon, the panicked moments when he had thought he was one his own, that if he couldn’t figure it out himself, it could be his end.
But now, reflecting on it, he realized he had had nothing to worry about. He was fine. He could take care of himself. He knew that. But even if he wasn’t, even if he couldn’t, those six people would always have his back, just as he would always have theirs.
Sizhui loved his family. He adored his friends. And even if, sometimes, they could be a little much, he was thankful for these six people. Six people who would be there for him. To rescue him, to tend to any injury, or to relieve any worry.
He smiled to himself as he tucked himself into his bed. He wasn’t alone. He would never be alone. And for that, he could only be grateful.