The sweltering afternoon heat of the summer sun's bright rays beat down on roads and sidewalks with a fiery intensity that would make any sane person groan in discomfort. The tell-tale sound of buzzing cicadas and katydids put emphasis on just how miserable the heat was, as did the visible refractions of distant objects that seemed to wiggle and wobble as they pleased, but that's just how it was during mid-June in north Texas.
While this was a deterrent of activity for some, for others, it was merely a slight annoyance, or better yet, an open invitation to go out and do shit. Such was the case for a certain Cambodian.
Just fresh out of his freshman year at the University of Texas at Dallas, Soryan Ung could barely contain his excitement as he popped the trunk of his age-old 2005 Honda CR-V, his enthusiasm keeping the hostile heat rays at bay. His eyes glistened with glee when they landed on a closed weapon case, his imagination already running wild.
The young man was quite average-looking—at least, that's what he thought when he looked in the mirror. He was nineteen years old, had short black hair, bovine brown eyes, a clean complexion, and tanned skin, indicative of his Cambodian roots. He wasn't the tallest guy, standing at about five-foot six, but he had broad shoulders and a slightly larger frame than average, and to keep him decent, he wore a white non-brand t-shirt, and a pair of tan cargo shorts. All-in-all, as he thought to himself, average.
After daydreaming about his new toy for a moment, Soryan decided that he preferred the real thing over whatever fantasies his mind could conjure, so he grabbed the weapon case, along with the large, multi-pocketed tactical backpack that sat alongside it, then he slammed the trunk shut and walked towards the large stretch of field nearby, with large stalls set up side-by-side for others such as he.
It wasn't Soryan's first time at a gun range, and hopefully, it wouldn't be his last. When he was younger, his grandfather always took him to shoot at a small, handmade gun range of his own making. Visiting ranges like these always reminded Soryan of the man. Perhaps that's why he liked to so much. Or it was because shooting things was fun.
Plus, if there was anything that could get his mind off of the looming college debt he was currently accumulating as a new CS major—internships and scholarships could only get him so far—it was shooting the money from his bank account in the form of lead projectiles—an unwise course of action considering his financial situation, but tomorrow's problems were for tomorrow's him.
As Soryan walked, he caught sight of another young man approaching him, two fingers at his head performing a salute that Soryan had grown accustomed to over the years. He nodded to the man with a smile as he approached.
Mitchell Marlowe was a long-time friend of Soryan's, one who's friendship managed to sustain throughout their highschool years. His hair was a sandy brown, shaved down to a quarter-of-an-inch, and his eyes were a stormy icy blue. His slightly tanned complexion complemented a lean, yet athletic build, and this was further complimented by his height of six-feet.
After high-school, Mitchell went on to do Motocross. There were a number of doubters that Soryan could recall lecturing Mitchell about his future, but once the young man won his first championship at the State level in Colorado, they shut up. They were further silenced when Mitchell went on to land third place at the National level, bringing him fame, funds, and enough reputation to perhaps perform at the international level.
It was Mitchell's hope to compete at that level to fulfill his desire of traveling the world and racing in as many countries as possible. He especially wanted to visit Japan again—for more than just motocross. There was a…well, a girl, to say the least.
What he was doing was certainly more ambitious than anything Soryan could do, he'd give Mitchell that. The only reason he was getting into computer science was so he could live a comfortable life, work at home, and get paid six-figures.
Mitchell wore a Carhartt jacket over a breathable t-shirt that had the iconic Quake symbol designed on it, and a pair of jeans. Soryan could also see that he had his trademark 1892 Winchester strapped to his shoulder, as well as a punch-packing .357 Single Action Army Colt Revolver strapped to his thigh.
"Wassup!" Soryan greeted pleasantly. "Long time no see, huh?"
Mitchell smiled. "Yeah, it has been. Good to see ya, dude."
The two stepped over a curb and onto grass, approaching one of the open stalls of the shooting range after meeting each other in a bro-handshake.
"So, what've you been up to, huh?" Soryan asked. He idly studied the other patrons of the range, spying weapons of all shapes and sizes.
"Nothin' much," Mitchell replied. He adjusted the strap on his shoulder to a more comfortable position. "Thank God I don't have much goin' on right now."
"Busy much?"
"Yeah. It's been pretty busy this year. I swear, I really miss our days in Japan sometimes."
Soryan pursed his lips. "I get it. But hey, that's why we're out here together, yeah? Wakaba's competition?"
Mitchell's eyes brightened. "Yep. I can't wait to see the girls again, dude. It's been, what, a year?"
"Yeah, just about," Soryan replied thoughtfully.
As Mitchell said, it'd been right around a year since they had seen the other half of their friend group, the two girls from Japan that had changed their lives and always made their group whole.
Today, the girls were in the States to visit for one of the girl's archery competitions—her first competition on an international level. Wakaba Otonashi was her name.
Wakaba was dedicated to archery, to the point of winning several national competitions in Japan. She was one of a kind, and her skill was seemingly unmatched. The same could be said about the other girl, Kasumi Otonashi, but instead of archery, she was an acrobatic spear enthusiast, and a master competing on a National level in Japan at that.
Soryan inwardly sighed. His friends were all crazy ambitious. Seemed like a lot of work to him, but they were all passionate about what they did. More to them, he supposed. He still wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to do with his life—computer science was just a safe zone for him.
Mitchell shook his head. "I'm tellin' ya man, I might be able to talk to Waka online whenever we play together, but it's nowhere even close to seein' her in person."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Soryan nodded. He stared at the ground as his thoughts deepened.
Mitchell smirked knowingly. "Speakin' a' which, hopin' to see Kas?"
Soryan coughed. "Do you even need to ask?"
Mitchell snorted, his smirk unwavering.
The two arrived at one of the open stalls, then started preparing themselves. Soryan lugged his weapon case atop a table that sat right before the fence of the actual range, shrugging off his backpack and setting it on the side. With a growing grin, he placed his fingers on the latches.
"Hey guys!"
When he heard the voice, Soryan stopped immediately, whirling around just as Mitchell did. His eyes zeroed on a most welcome sight.
Two familiar faces approached, smiles on their lips, anticipation in their eyes, and a certain pep in each of their steps that conveyed their excitement.
Mitchell and Soryan weren't the only ones who stopped and turned—the younger people at the range did too, and when they saw who approached, their jaws nearly dropped, because two of the most beautiful girls they had ever seen—and would probably ever personally see in their individual lives—walked towards them.
Some of the young men were captivated by their smiles, or just enthralled by their seemingly impossible beauty, but one constant among them all was that they stared.
The first girl was Wakaba. If there was any one way to describe her, or any one reason why the young men couldn't stop staring, it was because Wakaba Otonashi was invariably sexy, a trait that was in-part derived from her being the epitome of heart-tugging cuteness both physically and as a personality.
Silky, chest-length black hair framed a soft, coy face that had gentle, emotional brown eyes. Her face alone was cute to the point of captivating, but she was also well-endowed in such a perfect way that it was impossible not to stare, at least a little bit.
Her body was shaped like an hour-glass, and her chest was as marvelous and large as her hips and rear were luscious and curvaceous, a fact that struck endless envy into her female peers, and endless desire into her male admirers. Just by moving, she could turn a room full of heads, and the fact that she was adorably shy and unaware when she had such powerful weapons at her disposal only made her that much cuter.
Wakaba, today at least, was dressed in a simple white t-shirt that Mitchell got her for Christmas with the kanji for Arrow on the left breast, a cute red skirt, and white thigh-high leggings. Really, it didn't matter what she wore, because she looked great in everything.
Her friend was the same in that regard. Kasumi Otonashi walked by her side, smiling radiantly.
If there was any one thing that was definitive about Kasumi other than her upbeat and outgoing personality, it was her impossibly immense beauty—her sex appeal that seemed to rival Wakaba's, matched only by her own energy.
Exotic, natural blue hair cascaded down the sides of a friendly face with the most captivating, dark chocolate eyes. Her body was slim and athletic, but at the same time, she was curvy in all of the right departments, and her bust was second in size only to Wakaba's. In other words, while she was definitely cute, her appearance tipped the balance more towards the sexy side of things.
It was as if she'd been designed to be impossible not to at least appreciate, if not gawk at. The biggest difference maker though, was that while Wakaba was shy and cute, Kasumi was very aware of just how sexy she was, and she owned it all—not to the point of arrogance, but just to the point that she could tell exactly what someone was thinking if they were staring at her. She often liked to use this as a weapon against her male friends, teasing them to no end when she caught a stare.
Kasumi wore a form-fitting short-sleeved shirt, a simple black skirt with two white stripes that alternated horizontally from the hem, and long black tights. Strangely enough, conservative though her outfit was, it somehow accentuated her sex appeal further, teasing about what lie beneath not more than simple layers of cloth.
One strange but adorable oddity Mitchell and Soryan noticed were the cowboy hats that each of the girls sported. Wakaba wore a brown felt cowboy hat, while Kasumi's was white. The boys were highly amused. As Kasumi and Wakaba approached, they waved. Mitchell and Soryan waved back.
It was oft that Soryan wondered why and how he'd even become friends with such great personalities and extremely attractive people, and why they continued being friends with him—especially in Kasumi's case.
The girl had the most vibrant personality. She was nice, caring, thoughtful, confident, easygoing yet competitive, teasing, and so fucking hot that she blew everybody else Soryan had ever seen out of the water. He, on the other hand, was mundane at best, and a boring asshole at worst, in his opinion. The other day, he somehow ended up having a voice chat with Kasumi about the perils of morality in dystopian nightmares at one o'clock in the morning—and she listened. With rapt attention.
If it was not obvious enough, Soryan had easily developed a crush on Kasumi, one that had persisted for nearly four years because he never dared make a move—he thought that Kasumi was so far beyond his league, he wasn't even relevant, a fact that agonized him, because she was one of his best friends.
Mitchell stepped forward to meet the girls' approach, smiling happily at them. "Well, howdy y'all! Have a nice trip across the Pacific pond over yonder?"
Kasumi flicked the brim of her hat. "Howdy pardner—" Soryan snorted at that, "—we sure did!"
Mitchell's eyes twinkled in amusement as he neared. "Glad to hear it." His smile grew warm. "I gotta say, I've missed y'all."
Soryan opened his mouth. "…What he said."
Kasumi's smile widened slightly as she placed her hands on her hips and shifted her weight slightly, her eyes flitting down for just a second, as if to emphasize her relief that her friends had not changed.
She made a chafing expression. "Same to you guys. It was just so hard to fall asleep without someone talking my ear off at midnight."
Soryan muttered a "Hey!" that made Kasumi break her stance in a chuckle—her arms relaxed and fell to her sides as she slumped over for a second before returning to her earlier position.
"I'm just kidding Sor. You know I love you," she quipped casually.
"Love you too, Kas," Soryan nodded—obviously in a joking manner, less obviously in the most truthful way.
"Good to see you, Mitch!" Wakaba hopped forward enthusiastically. "Group hug!"
She said it so darn cutely, spreading her arms wide, standing on her toes and closing her eyes as she looked up at him, that Mitchell could feel his heartstrings being tugged.
"Hug received! C'mere you!" Mitchell leaned forward, and Wakaba eagerly wrapped her arms around him. Kasumi smiled, then joined as well when Mitchell reached his arm out at her, humming softly.
"Innnncoming!" Soryan exclaimed playfully.
"Get over here!" Kasumi beckoned, reaching out to him.
When Soryan got close enough, she grasped him by the shirt and pulled him into their four-way hug. Soryan smiled like it was Christmas morning. This is how life should be. Just hugs and good feelings.
Out of the corner of his eye, Soryan could see a few of the young men in the other stalls eyeing their group, some staring with envy, some watching with sad, depressed eyes, some who just didn't give a shit, or some that were nodding, impressed and appreciative.
He didn't blame them. He would feel the exact same way. Lucky him then, huh?
The hug lasted a few moments longer, then the group broke up, straightening themselves out.
Mitchell looked Wakaba up and down, eyeing her bow and quiver. "I see ya brought your stuff." His lips curled in amusement as he gestured towards their stall. "Ya ready to show up these poor souls, Waka?"
"Aye, captain!" Wakaba saluted. She giggled right after, her cheeks dusted pink. "I'm sorry, that was silly."
Kasumi merely shook her head. She ruffled Wakaba's hair for a moment. "You're just too cute for your own good, you know that?"
Wakaba leaned into it, protesting half-heartedly.
Mitchell hummed in agreement, nodding. "Mhm, modest too. A lethal combination."
"Uh-huh." Soryan snorted before turning away. "Anyway, wanna come see? I've got a new boomstick—my first one, really."
"Boomstick an' brush gun. We're very glad to have ya two as guest stars in this Cowboy Western. I hereby call this collaboration, Red Sun, the sequel." Mitchell waved his hands as he followed after Soryan.
The girls smiled amusedly, eager to see what their friends had in store, and as they disappeared behind the wall panels of their stall, every young man who happened to be staring at the girls breathed a sigh, calmed themselves, then returned to their recreation, some fantasizing, some slightly sadder, some jealous, some unreasonably angry.
Why weren't girls like that more common?
The tight-knit friend group stopped at their section's table. Soryan busied himself with the locks of his weapon case, his excitement from before rising once more.
"I've never used a side-by-side before," he mused. "This is gonna be good… Anyway, how are the parents? How are you?"
"Oh, we're doing just fine." Wakaba smiled, brushing hair out of her face. "Our parents will be joining us soon. They just needed to get everything settled in before coming."
'Our' referred to Wakaba and Kasumi's parents. Because of certain circumstances, and the extent of the girls' friendship, Kasumi had been adopted into the Otonashi family while her single blood-related father spent his days in prison for both child neglect and child abuse.
The story between the four friends, though, ran much deeper, filled with…Soryan would rather not recall. They were…dark days. For all of them. They—complete strangers at the time—had to band together to get through it…but in turn, they forged a friendship unbreakable. An ironclad bond that could not be shaken so easily.
Soryan nodded. "Nice. You know, I never pegged your dad for a gun enthusiast."
"Well, he's not an enthusiast exactly." Wakaba made a gesture at the air. "He just likes the idea of them."
Mitchell hummed, smirking. "Oh, then he'll probably like what we have in store." He pulled his revolver from his holster with a deft twirl. "Can't wait to use these again."
"And I can't wait to see you use them," Wakaba smiled, excitement in her voice.
Kasumi smiled at the mere fact that Wakaba was smiling, then she looked at Soryan. "If you wanted to know, I got a full-ride at the University of Tokyo for my amazing life skills."
Soryan stopped and turned his head to hers. The shocked look on his face made her beam with pride.
Right. Both Kasumi and Wakaba had decided to take a one year hiatus before going to university because their competitive sport lives had started to ramp up. And now, because of that decision, Kasumi was reaping the benefits of her national reputation within Japan.
"You are…so cool," Soryan said eventually. He couldn't find anything else to say, really. "Congrats."
Kasumi secretly flushed at the praise—though she puffed out her chest pridefully and put her hands on her hips, her cheeks tinted the slightest shade of red.
"Oh shit. Congrats Kas!" Grinning, Mitchell gave her a congratulatory pat on the arm. "Hope ya do well there."
"Thank you! I worked hard to get where I'm at today—and I expect your full continued support," she added.
Mitchell nodded. "You got it." He playfully pointed at both girls. "Both a' ya. Y'all keep kickin' ass out there, ya hear?"
"As if I'd do anything else," Kasumi quipped confidently.
"I'll do my best and forget the rest," Wakaba chimed in with a smile.
She idly pumped her fist in anticipation for her upcoming competition. She'd been practicing for months now, and although today was still one of leisure, it was an opportunity to try her hand at a range with absurdly distant targets. It was good practice that she'd be silly to pass up.
Mitchell adjusted the strap on his shoulder. "So then, y'all wanna get into what we came here for?"
"Yes!" Wakaba replied, enthused.
Kasumi seemed amused by her rare forwardness before turning to see what Soryan was up to. She stared at the side of his face for a second, then her gaze was drawn lower. "What do you have there, Sor?"
There was the sound of a latch clicking. "Oh, this? Take a look."
With almost religious reverence, the young man lifted a beautifully crafted hammerless side-by-side break-action double-barreled shotgun. The wood of the stock and grip was a dark brown, and the receiver had intricate and ornate patterns decorating it. The weapon was very large for what it did, about forty-six inches overall, but in Soryan's opinion, it was forty-six inches of badassery.
Mitchell whistled in appreciation. "Damn, dude. Ya have some fine taste."
Kasumi's eyes lit up. "Holy crap! It's so… pretty! Where did you get it? How much was it?"
Soryan chuckled. "This is the twelve-guage Sharp-Tail, manufactured by CZ. It was made in Turkey, so you know it's high quality. Price though?" He cringed slightly. "A smidge over one-thousand dollars?"
Kasumi's eyes widened. "A thousand…!? How much is that again?"
"One-hundred thousand yen."
Kasumi's eyes boggled out further, but she didn't comment anymore on the priciness of the weapon.
"Ladies and gents, this is a moment to remember. When a man breaks the action of his first coach gun…" Soryan held the weapon by the stock and the barrel, his finger thumbing the breech lock. With a push, he managed to struggle the weapon open. He paused. Slowly, he turned to his friends. "It's a bit stiff."
Kasumi stifled a laugh with her hand. Wakaba couldn't help a tiny giggle.
With a short shake of his head, Mitchell holstered his revolver and unslung his Winchester. He set its case on the table before turning to Wakaba with excitement rivaling Soryan's. "By the way, Waka, I have an idea. Wanna hear it?"
When Wakaba saw the expression on Mitchell's face, she grew genuinely interested. She nodded. "What is it?"
"Well…" Mitchell drawled teasingly. He unzipped his case at an agonizing pace. "I was thinkin'... Ya wanna have a little competition later? Your bow against this?"
He flipped open the case, revealing the rifle inside. Wakaba's eyes widened.
The Winchester Model 1892 Deluxe Trapper Takedown was a beautiful thing, and in Mitchell's capable hands, it was kept in pristine condition. It was a twenty-inch weapon, chambered in .45 LC that gave it a hefty kick. It had a simple yet well-made walnut hardcase, and most notable was the large lever, used for ejecting spent casings.
"I wanted to see how I stack up against ya, Miss International~" Mitchell smiled slyly. "Care to indulge me?"
"Of course, Mitch," Wakaba smirked—her inner-confidence blazing forth. "In fact, I welcome the challenge."
"Hell yeah." Mitchell picked up the rifle and set it over his shoulder before winking at the girl. "I'll make it worth your while."
Soryan looked at each of them once, a small half-smile of amusement on his face, then he unzipped his pack and reached in. "I've never bought shotgun shells before, but I think these are some of the better ones."
He retrieved a white box that read Desperado Enforcement LLC. at the top, and just below it, 00 Buckshot.
"Oh shit, Desperado? You're shelling out for the good stuff, I see." Mitchell swung the lever of his Winchester open with a satisfying clack before reaching into his case with a cheeky smile. "And so am I." He brought out his own box labeled .45 LC.
"Yep. I heard they made the best ammunition for a relatively good price. This here is one of their twelve-gauge double-aught buck, the heavy hitter of shotgun shells I think." He gave a short head tilt as he eyed the munitions, then Mitchell. "Might as well get the best for something like this, yeah?"
"As you should. You'd be doing that thing a disservice otherwise," Mitchell replied matter-of-factly. He opened the box and retrieved a handful of rounds before loading the weapon with smooth, practiced motions.
At the same time, Soryan squeezed two shells between his index, middle, and ring fingers, spacing them out perfectly such that they each slid into his new shotgun's barrels at the same time. Soryan closed the breech with an audible click, enjoying the feeling of power he got from the weapon.
Immediately, he flicked the safety on and practiced trigger discipline, pointing his weapon towards the ground. He gestured with one hand. "You first?"
Mitchell swung the lever back with a chack, keeping the hammer forward and practicing his own discipline. He set the weapon back on his shoulder. "Don't mind if I do."
Kasumi crossed her arms. "Let's see what you got, big guy."
"What, ya think I challenged Sniper Supreme over there for shits an' giggles? I do have at least a little confidence, y'know," Mitchell said, gesturing to Wakaba with a teasing grin. He walked over to the side of the table then stopped at the last moment. "I almost forgot—y'all wanna wear any ear protection? This is gonna be loud."
"Oh? Yes please," Kasumi nodded. Wakaba nodded along with her. "I was actually worried—how are you guys able to handle all of the noise? I could barely get over here without flinching, and even now, with all those gunshots going off, it's hard!"
"Are ya forgettin' I do motocross?" Mitchell rolled his eyes slightly. "This is nothin' compared to the thunderin' of engines an' a crowd's roar."
"Really," Soryan shrugged, "I'm more surprised you two aren't jumping at every gunshot. It took awhile for me to get used to it." He reached into his bag and retrieved four muffs, handing one to each of them.
"Now we're in business," Mitchell said. He returned to his spot as the girls took off their hats and placed them on the table to put their muffs on, Kasumi slipping them on, Wakaba struggling with them on her ears for a second—it was adorable.
"Y'all ready?"
"Ready!"
The targets downrange were already set up, from fifty to three-hundred meters. Mitchell decided to get straight into it. He took a shooter's stance and brought his rifle to bear, cocking the hammer. After a few silent moments, he took a steady breath and fired.
There was about an eighth of a second between the bullet firing and the bullet meeting its target about a hundred meters away, the impact ringing metallically. Mitchell lowered his rifle and racked the lever, a freshly spent cartridge tumbling from the receiver.
"Hit," Soryan droned.
Kasumi and Wakaba looked at him, only then realizing that he had a pair of binoculars in hand. After a moment, they looked back to Mitchell, and over the next minute or so, they slowly grew amazed.
Mitchell quickly took aim and fired once more, a loud ringing of metal proceeding the report of his rifle.
"Hit."
His focus dialed in further every time he racked the lever, and he fired until he was empty, pausing for a moment between each shot.
"Hit… Hit… Hit… Hit…"
Once his Winchester was empty, Mitchell lowered the weapon, racking the lever and ejecting the last cartridge. He exhaled as he relaxed. "Well then. I'm glad I haven't lost my touch at least."
"Wow! That was great, Mitch!" Wakaba approached him from behind.
"Yeah, six out of six at that distance?" Kasumi peered at the faraway target. "I'm no expert, but isn't that really good?"
Mitchell smiled, flushing a bit as he rubbed his neck. "Well, I practiced with it for most of my life, so it hurts me at the thought a' my accuracy gettin' rusty. I have a reputation to uphold from back home, y'know."
"Really?" Wakaba tilted her head. "Who's… reputing you?"
"I don't think that's a word, Waka," Kasumi sweatdropped.
"It is. It's a gerund." Soryan cut in.
Mitchell gave Wakaba an approving smile. "You're gettin' better an' better at English, I see." He gave his friends a casual shrug. "Well, after I hit a two-hundred meter target once, my friends—my dad and granddad included—all dubbed me the best marksman in my hometown."
His voice went flat. "Despite the fact I've never been able to hit it again since."
"Hmmm, so it was a fluke?" Kasumi teased.
Mitchell nodded, setting his Winchester on his shoulder. "Yeah, pretty much. Eyeballin' that bitch is hard as hell. Takin' into account wind speed, humidity, gravity—there's a ton a' shit involved."
If Kasumi was surprised by his admission, she didn't show it. "Huh. You sure do know your stuff."
"It's all the intricacies of ballistics, Kas." Soryan stepped to the side of the table, his coach gun ready. "At that distance, he didn't have to worry about the Earth's magnetic field or the Coriolis effect."
"By the way, either a' y'all wanna try it?" Mitchell said, looking at the girls curiously.
"I would." Wakaba raised a hand, an excited smile on her face. "I-I've never fired a gun before, though."
Mitchell smiled reassuringly. "No worries. Everyone's gotta start somewhere." He nodded at Soryan. "Let's let Sor have his time to shine, then we'll jump right into it, aight?"
Wakaba's only reply was an enthusiastic nod.
"Eh, there isn't much to show I don't think." Soryan shrugged. "It's a double-barrel shotty."
"So you're sayin' you don't wanna shoot that beauty?" Mitchell replied, raising a brow.
"I didn't say that—ah fuck it." Soryan shrugged again. He raised his weapon to the proper level, flicked the safety off, then took aim, his friends going silent.
After a moment of silence, he pulled the trigger. There was a tremendous boom, and Soryan's arm visibly kicked back before he righted himself, then he fired again. He hit the fifty-meter target twice, but it was hard to tell how much shot actually hit.
Soryan didn't seem to care though. When he lowered the gun, there was a grin on his face. He pressed the breech lock, and his shotgun fell open. He pulled out the shells.
"Look at that." He pointed at the huge amounts of smoke that billowed out, satisfied. "That's some power right there."
"You got a tight cluster too it looks like," Mitchell said, looking through the binoculars. "You shredded that thang."
Wakaba stifled a giggle at the way he said 'thang'.
"Yeah, I got a circle choke on this thing." Soryan nodded. He looked at Wakaba. "Anyway, you wanted to try the Winchester?"
"Yes please!" Wakaba raised her hand excitedly.
Kasumi couldn't cease the amusement she derived from Wakaba's innate disposition. After all those years of being shy and closed off, the girl was as energetic as she'd ever been, if not still timid and ever so cute. Kasumi shook her head slightly.
Mitchell hefted his Winchester, smirking. "Aight then. Let's get to it, shall we?"
"Let's!" Wakaba nodded.
"Get over here, you." Mitchell waved the girl over.
She stepped over without hesitation, almost raising her hands to grab the gun from him before stopping herself.
Mitchell grinned in amusement as she stepped up next to him, practically vibrating in anticipation. He grabbed a few more rounds before turning to face her. "Aight, before we get started, I think it'll be good to get ya acquainted with it first."
He offered the Winchester to her. When she accepted it, her hand brushed lightly against his. It was such a subtle yet deliberate thing that both Kasumi and Soryan looked at one another before each shaking their heads in agreement.
When Mitchell let the Winchester go, Wakaba's mouth opened slightly. "It's lighter than I thought it would be."
"Yeah, it's one of the reasons I got this," Mitchell replied, nodding. "It's great for huntin' 'cause of its relatively low weight and high ammo capacity. After all, ya don't wanna lug heavy gear for hours across differin' terrain, yeah?"
"Ah, I get it." Wakaba nodded. She looked up at him curiously. "So, I know how it shoots, and I know there's recoil and stuff, but how do you aim?"
"Well, the first thing you need to know is how to position yourself when firin'," Mitchell replied. He urged her forward then put his hands on her shoulders. She didn't protest. "May I?"
Wakaba nodded.
"Aight, first, I can tell you're right-handed from when you're usin' a bow, so you should take the position ya take when you're doin' that. Left foot forward, right foot bracin'," Mitchell said.
Wakaba hummed. As she followed his instructions, her body slowly moved closer to his.
Mitchell nodded. "M'kay then. Now when you're ready to fire, you bring it up like this."
He gently raised her arms into a firing position, the stock of the Winchester resting against her right shoulder. Slowly, the two inched closer to one another subconsciously.
"How does it feel? Anything about this position throwin' ya off?" Mitchell inquired.
"Hmm… It's actually kind of like drawing a bowstring." Wakaba realized.
"That's exactly what I was hopin' for. It'll help if the action feels familiar to ya," Mitchell said, giving her a pat on the arm. "Now ya see these sights here?" He pointed out the sights on the weapon. "Use these to aim, but be sure not to rest your face against the weapon. It'll kick ya in the face if ya fire like that."
"M'kay."
Soryan and Kasumi looked at her. Was that… Mitchell's accent in her voice? Cute.
Mitchell evaluated her form with an analytical eye before nodding. "Aight, ya seem to have it figured out, so we can move on to loadin' the weapon now if ya want. Or do ya have any other questions?"
"Nope. Let's do it." She was determined.
At this point, the girl was practically in Mitchell's embrace, her back pressed tenderly against his chest. Neither of them seemed to notice though, focused as they were.
Kasumi merely crossed her arms again as Soryan rested the side of his face on the back of his hand, sitting in a chair before the table. Seeing them act like this was just too cute.
Mitchell ignored the peanut gallery, fully focused on his lesson. He handed Wakaba a couple of rounds. "Here. See this receiver?" He pointed out the Winchester's receiver. "Ya insert the rounds right here, but the chamber's gotta be open first so that's why you rack the lever. It opens the chamber. Go ahead an' rack it."
Wakaba complied, struggling for just a moment. "Ah. Got it."
"Good. Now ya just insert the rounds then rack the lever back into position to close the chamber," Mitchell informed. He pointed at the hammer of the weapon. "And make damn sure the hammer's in a forward position when you do this. When it's cocked back that means it's ready to fire. You do not wanna have a negligent discharge, trust me."
Wakaba made a sound of acknowledgement at that—any distractions like the nearby pops of gunfire had melted away as her focus grew. Both Soryan and Kasumi noticed that she'd crossed the threshold and fell into a hybrid stance between an archer and a rifleman, her techniques as an archer glimmering. Without looking, she kept the rifle against her shoulder as she inserted the rest of the rounds and racked the lever back into position.
"Nice, you're catchin' on quick," Mitchell praised. "Now just cock the hammer back, an' take aim."
Everyone watched as Wakaba's thumb rose and pulled the hammer back.
"Firm stance, gun loaded, you're good to go, Waka. Fire when ready—"
Before he even finished his sentence, Wakaba pulled the trigger. The shot was so sudden that both Soryan and Kasumi jumped. Their surprise was magnified when they heard a metallic ring.
"Uh—Hit!" Soryan called. He looked down range to see that she'd been aiming at the seventy-five meter target, just an inch off center mass.
Mitchell couldn't help but feel proud for his friend. He smiled. "Good shot, Waka. Do it again."
Wakaba pulled the trigger. There was an audible click. "Huh? Oh. Oops."
Sheepishly, the archer racked the lever, then took aim again. She pulled the trigger.
"Hit…! Miss…! Hit…! Hit…! Miss…!"
Off to the side, Kasumi watched in both amusement and the slightest bit of envy. The way Mitchell and Wakaba were pressed up against one another was so intimate, yet so natural. It was like they were made for one another, yet they just didn't realize or were too shy to admit it.
How she wished she could be in a similar situation. On top of that, shooting a gun looked like fun—and to be honest, she came out here both because she wanted to see her friends after a year of separation, and because she wanted to try being a Texan before she went back to Japan.
Kasumi's gaze slowly shifted to Soryan and his new shotgun. She wondered if maybe he could teach her?
There was a sudden racking when the Winchester ran dry, the last spent shell bouncing on the sand beneath their feet. In the most natural, fluid motion, Mitchell placed a hand atop Wakaba's head and ruffled her hair in an affectionate head pat. "Damn, four outta six shots for your first time? You're a natural at this, Cowgirl."
Wakaba beamed, even as she relaxed in his ministrations. "Thanks. I had a lot of fun." Her smile shifted to a smirk as she handed the Winchester back to him. "But it's time for me to practice for our competition. Now that I know what you can do, I want to get serious."
Mitchell returned her smirk. "Can't wait. I want nothin' less than your best."
Kasumi rolled her eyes. After such an intimate and affectionate display of impromptu stand-up cuddling—whether they were aware of it or not—that's all they had to say?
"You guys need to stop flirting and just get together already," she groaned. Soryan merely nodded in agreement.
VVVVV
When Wakaba brought out her Yumi bow, her whole demeanor seemed to shift. She stood more confidently, her eyes narrowed analytically, and there was a pervading aura of cool calmness that exuded from her posture. When she let loose her first arrow, all activity on the range seemed to pause. With little more than a breath and a second after her draw, the arrow struck a target at ninety meters, just slightly off-center.
People in the other stalls lowered their weapons and watched in awe, wondering who the fuck had brought a bow to a gun range of all things when a second arrow whistled by at two-hundred miles per hour, striking the same target, this time in the bullseye. When the third arrow struck so closely to the second that the two were touching each other, there was curiosity.
A few of the patrons of the shooting range, mostly young men, left their stalls to identify the archer. When they realized that it was the hot Japanese girl from before, there was astonishment. A couple brought out their phones and began recording the spectacle, some of the more confident ones placed their hands on their hips, some leered, but most were just impressed beyond measure.
Wakaba went on for about thirty seconds, hitting ten for ten with such a tight spread that she managed to destroy one of her arrows with another arrow. When she finished, she gave a confident smirk, bow in one hand, the other on her hip as she eyed her work. She didn't expect to hear any clapping though. The sound startled her, and she whirled around to see a large group of young men clapping her up.
"Someone's popular with the boys. You've gathered quite an audience," Kasumi quipped. Wakaba blushed deeply, gripping her bow timidly. Her usual shyness returned just like that.
Mitchell ignored the crowd. He scrutinized Wakaba's work with a calculative gaze, then, realizing her talent for the thousandth time, turned his head to Wakaba with a smirk of approval and pride. "As expected, you're certainly not makin' things easy. Keep stayin' steady, Dead-Eye."
With that, he stepped forward to take a position. Now it was his turn.
With a single breath, the irrelevant world beyond his perceptions ceased to exist. After a moment, Mitchell took aim at a target directly adjacent to Wakaba's. There was a moment of silence—strange on the usually active range—then suddenly, six gunshots cracked in rapid succession, rivaling the rate at which Wakaba had fired her arrows.
As the last spent casing bounced on the dust beneath Mitchell's feet, he reached down to his waist, drew four more rounds, then swiftly reloaded. He swung the lever back and took aim once more. Four more gunshots, then Mitchell lowered his rifle, the barrel smoking slightly.
He was slightly surprised to hear applause for his short performance, but he didn't really care either way. Soryan ignored the short claps also, staring ahead at the targets with his binoculars.
"Wow…you guys seem pretty even. That is some tight spread," he said.
Mitchell analyzed his work. He turned to the archer questioningly. "Seems really close. Whatcha think, Waka?"
"Well, I did have to use a bow and account for gravity and wind speed way more than you probably did," Wakaba said matter-of-factly. The teasing smirk on her face conveyed her true thoughts.
Mitchell shrugged lightly. "Well, I wouldn't have made the bet if I didn't know you would nail it." He raised a brow at her with a teasing glint in his eyes. "It's not like ya to make excuses."
Wakaba made a show of rolling her eyes. "Fiiine, I guess it's a draw."
She paused for a moment, then giggled. Mitchell joined her, chuckling. Kasumi found her laughter infectious. They all shared that short moment together as the impromptu audience began to disperse back to their stalls. Then the intermittent popping and cracking of pistols and rifles slowly began again.
"That was quite a show you put on, kids." The group of four turned, surprised to see a man and a woman approaching, the former walking with a confident posture, the latter with a feminine, elegant saunter.
"Oh, hi mom! Dad!" Wakaba waved.
Indeed, the two that approached were Wakaba's parents—Sojiro Otonashi, and Maaya Otonashi.
Just from seeing them, it was all too clear which parent Wakaba got most of her looks from. The woman, Maaya Otonashi, was a breathtaking woman for her age. Waist-length black hair framed a gentle, surprisingly youthful face with soft, warm hazelnut eyes. She had an hourglass figure, and like-daughter-like-mother, her breasts were bountiful, shapely and beautiful, her rear was curvaceously voluptuous, and her long legs were terribly enticing, thighs soft and thick.
Sojiro Otonashi, on the other hand, seemed to share nearly nothing in appearance with his daughter. He had short black hair, dark brown eyes, and he was broad shouldered and well-built—very well defined and toned. Despite his imposing stature, the smile he wore was kind and welcoming, familiar and friendly.
Mitchell smiled at the new arrivals and gave them a two-finger wave. "Hey Sojiro! Hey Maaya! Glad y'all could join us."
"I'm glad we could make it," Sojiro said as he neared. "It's been a little bit hasn't it?"
Before Mitchell could answer, Maaya sauntered past Sojiro, arms outstretched and a warm, motherly smile on her face. "Oh, Mitchell, come here. Give me a hug!"
Mitchell's smile broadened into a grin, and he held his rifle by the receiver as he eagerly reached out to the woman. "Yes ma'am!"
The two embraced tightly, Maaya cooing like a parent to their child, "Oh it's been so long—I've missed you, sweetheart."
Wakaba watched with a touching happiness, but also slight embarrassment. Kasumi and Soryan watched with amusement.
"Tell me about it. Things haven't been the same since I left, I gotta say." Mitchell patted her back comfortingly. "Y'know what I mean?"
"Oh, I know exactly what you mean," Maaya exclaimed. "Wakaba just won't stop talking about you!"
"Hey!"
Mitchell pulled away from the embrace with slight reluctance, looking over at Wakaba. His lips quirked playfully. "Oh really, now? Whatchu been sayin' 'bout me, hm?"
"Nothing!" Wakaba threw her arms up in exasperation, blushing up a storm.
"That's right," Maaya continued. "She's been talking about nothing but you."
"Mom!"
"Oh calm down Wakaba, I'm not even going into detail—there's nothing to worry about."
Wakaba remained a cute tomato. "That's not—that's besides the—" she stammered into gibberish for a second before language came back to her. "W-Well, even if I said anything—and it's a big if—I'm not the only one who's been talking!"
"Y'know ya just admitted to it, right?" Mitchell drawled, grinning with amusement.
Wakaba pouted. "No I didn't…"
Mitchell couldn't help a chuckle at her adorable expression. He shrugged. "Well, I'm not really much better. So you're not alone on that."
"She is right though," Maaya hummed. "I can think of one other person who loves to talk about—"
Unseen by Soryan, Kasumi paled.
"Oh no no no, don't drag me into this." She raised and waggled a finger authoritatively.
Soryan looked at her, then to Maaya, then to Mitchell. "…What?"
"It's nothing, Sor," Kasumi replied tersely. She gave him a look that told him there'd be consequences for prying.
He obeyed her silent command, but a part of him scrutinized what he'd heard. Wakaba had referred to Kasumi, and Maaya had confirmed that, and furthermore, Kasumi admitted to it by reacting to Maaya's statement… What was Kasumi saying about Mitchell?
He inwardly shook his head. It was probably nothing… Then again, Mitchell was far more impressive than Soryan could ever hope to be. Did Kasumi like Mitchell…? Maybe he was just overthinking things.
Besides, who was he to dictate who Kasumi could and couldn't like?
Off to the side, Sojiro ignored the antics of his wife and daughters, approaching Soryan, who was still stupefied.
"What's going on, Sor? How are you?"
"Huh? Oh—good! Relieved, honestly. I just finished my freshman year. Things got a little hectic around finals, but I'm okay now."
"Good work. Keep up the effort and you'll definitely make it somewhere."
Soryan snorted. "You don't have to tell me that. That's what I have my dad for."
"And that's the way it should be," Sojiro nodded. "But be sure not to overwork yourself. I'm sure you know to take things in moderation."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Now, what we came here for!" Sojiro exclaimed suddenly.
Soryan was surprised by the sudden shift in tone.
Sojiro looked over the weapons in their possession. "What have you boys got for me? I've been itching to put some lead down range."
Kasumi scoffed playfully. "I thought we came here for a reunion. Are you here for the boys? Or the guns?"
"Both," Sojiro answered truthfully. "Opportunities like this rarely come often. I intend to make the most of it."
There was a certain glow in his eyes that conveyed his excitement and conviction. It was a little concerning…
Wait a second…
Soryan squinted. "H-Hey, Sojiro? Are you okay?"
"What's wrong, Sor? Never seen a grown man get this excited before?"
"No, it's just…your eyes are glowing."
…
"What the hell!? You girls are glowin'!" Soryan and Sojiro turned when Mitchell jumped mid-conversation with the girls.
"Wakaba!?" Maaya cried worriedly. She reached out for her daughter, only to freeze up when she saw her own arm, which began to radiate its own light. "Me too!?"
"Not just you," Soryan breathed. "It's all of us."
"The ground and stall, too," Sojiro added.
Mitchell subconsciously stepped closer to Wakaba, his eyes darting around with rapidly growing unease. "What the heck's goin' on here?"
"I don't know…but it hurts!" Soryan growled.
Before anyone could say anymore, the glow became a shine, and their bodies were lit up with what felt like fire. They heard a couple of shouts, but it didn't register in their heads. They were too busy screaming as their world was swallowed by light.
VVVVV
Soryan stirred at the cacophony of a howling, echoing wind that reverberated throughout whatever space he occupied. He let out a groan of discomfort as consciousness slowly returned to him.
Everything was numb for a moment, but eventually, his nerves began firing up, and he could feel again—not that it was a pleasant experience. His limbs felt as stiff and dense as lead, and a numbed pain ached throughout his body. As he was, he could barely open his eyes, or even move a muscle.
He lay there for a moment, perplexed. What the hell did he do to be this sore? Slowly, his eyes flitted around and came into focus. Confusion filled him when he observed his surroundings.
He was in a large, dark and dreary room with a high ceiling, the walls of which were made of a smooth stone that seemed to reflect the sound of the howling winds several times over—winds that were blowing in from a single, doorless passageway in the corner of the room shaped like a perfect rectangle. There was a miniscule amount of light that poured in from it, just barely illuminating the room. The air was cold yet crisp, but the ground was almost scathing hot...and grainy.
At the unfamiliarity of Soryan's surroundings, panic began to set in, but he tried not to let it control him.
With a pained grunt, Soryan willed his body to move. He managed to shift his weight slightly, tilting his head such that his chin rested on the ground. It was then that he realized with mounting confusion that the ground was covered by a thick layer of hot, gray sand. No—not sand. Sand did not have small red embers that glowed faintly amongst its grains, nor did it have charred, blackened bits that crumbled from the slightest movements. It wasn't sand, it was ash! But…it was 'cold' ash. Not hot enough to burn.
Good thing, otherwise Soryan was sure his skin would be cracked and blackened, and that he'd be in horrible agony.
With a groan, Soryan strained against whatever physical exhaustion seemed to hinder him. He placed both palms on the floor, his fingertips sinking into the ash, then he pushed, rising at an agonizingly gradual rate.
'Why do I feel like I've been run over by a four-door sedan…'
He clenched his teeth, almost letting out a yell just to power through, but he managed to stumble his way to his full height. He almost instantly collapsed, but he corrected his footing and stabilized himself, shaking away an oncoming headache.
Now that he could see the area better, he estimated the room to be about thirty-feet-by-thirty-feet—a cube, if the ceiling were higher.
"What the hell is this…" he murmured, unnerved.
It was then that he noticed the face-down bodies strewn about. He almost jumped in surprise, but when he just barely noticed the ash-covered but distinct blue hair of his crush, his eyes widened, and he hobbled over to her, clumsily falling to a knee in front of her as he was hit with a small wave of nausea.
"Kas!"
When he saw her closed eyes, felt her limp body giving no protest to the forces of gravity, trepidation surged within him, but he stopped himself, took a deep breath, and tried to think rationally. After a moment of consideration, he laid his head on her chest. Kasumi's heart beat rhythmically, if just a tad slow—sleeping heart rate, he realized. The relief he felt was immeasurable.
Tension drained from him like water from hole-ridden sack, and the edges of his vision blackened. With a sigh, he shut his eyes for a moment. Whatever the fuck this situation was, it was almost too much to bear.
Just what the hell happened? What led up to this…nightmarish scenario?
He tried to think for a moment.
He'd been at the range with his friends, then they were enveloped by a glow of anomalous light, then there was a bright flash accompanied by searing pain of an unimaginable magnitude…then nothing.
Shit…that didn't explain anything. But first he needed to make sure everyone was okay.
When he reopened his eyes, Soryan grasped Kasumi's shoulders and gently shook, whispering to her. "Kas…Kas wake up. Wake up!"
"Nughhh…" Kasumi groaned. When she stirred, Soryan shook a little harder. The reaction was a little delayed. "Wha-ha-hat—! I'm awake! I'm awake—"
Soryan didn't know why he slapped his palm over her mouth, but he did so instinctively, stifling her voice. Oh yeah, maybe it was because they'd woken up in a dark, conspicuous, and obviously man-made room filled with hot ash, implying that somebody brought them here.
"S-Sorry," Soryan mumbled. "Just…don't speak so loud…we might not be alone."
He gently laid her back down, but despite his tenderness, Kasumi bit back a groan of pain. "Ow… What the…? Why do I feel like I got hit by a truck?"
Despite her aggravation, Soryan felt better with her awake. The darkness hid the small upturn of his lips. "No idea. I felt the same way when I woke up. Are you alright?"
"Well, if by alright, you mean I feel like a trashy isekai protagonist that just went on a blind date with truck-kun, then I'm just doing dandy." Kasumi snarked. "Yeah, I think I'm alright," she said a moment later. "My everything just aches like a bitch."
"It'll get better in a sec, I think," Soryan comforted. "I could barely stand a second ago, but I feel better now."
Kasumi acknowledged that with an "Mmm." She paused, turning her head back and forth as she lay on the ground. "Where are we?"
"I…don't know. Try not to panic, but when I woke up, we were in this room full of ash."
Kasumi blinked.
"Ash…? Is that why it's so damn hot?" Her eyes darted around the room. "Did we get…kidnapped? Where's everybody else?" Her voice sounded unnerved.
"They're here, just unconscious," Soryan assured her quickly, raising his hands. He could see Sojiro and Maaya's distinct clothes and body shapes, and two others hidden in the darkness—presumably Wakaba and Mitchell. "Try to get yourself steady. I'll wake the others, then we can get to the bottom of this shit."
"Right. Of course," Kasumi assented. As she collected herself, Soryan stared at her for a second, just to make sure she wouldn't suddenly disappear or shatter before his very eyes.
Once he was sure of her adequate health, he hurried to the next unconscious person and flipped them over.
"Maaya…" He shook her gently. When she stirred, he moved on to the next closest person, ignoring the small rushes of relief he felt. "Sojiro…wake up."
As he shook both of them, his mind still running a mile-a-minute despite his outward calmness, Kasumi managed to get up.
She stumbled for a moment, then looked around the large room with a keen, yet cautious eye. The cavernous room gave her a bad vibe, and the darkness and the ash instilled an ominous feeling inside her. It made her skin crawl. She didn't like it.
Kasumi tried to ignore the feeling—she was trying to make a better sense of where they were. The floor was covered in ash, but not the whole room was covered—just a large circle of it, she observed.
"Wha…? Soryan? What—?"
"Shhh…I don't know, but I plan to figure it out."
Kasumi ignored the whispers for the moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed an oddity among the hot ash—a discolored scrap of something in the dust. She stepped over to it, silently thankful that she was wearing shoes and that her clothes and skin somehow hadn't burned. With narrowed eyes, she picked it out and scrutinized it.
It was…clothing. A half burnt hooded-cloak of some kind—it was still burning, though very slowly, and without fire. There were weird symbols woven into the cloth. She couldn't understand them.
"Sor? Who? What? When? Where? How?"
"I don't know Waka. Still figuring things out."
"Wakaba! You're okay!"
Kasumi turned to see Maaya pulling her daughter into a tight embrace that was eventually shared by Sojiro. Soryan stood awkwardly to the side. Kasumi found the scene amusing. Even in this strange and fearful situation, her family's antics managed to ease her slightly.
"Ow! Ow! Mom, not so rough!"
"I'm sorry!" Maaya squeaked, pulling away from her daughter, keeping her at arm's length. "I was just so worried. Thank goodness you're okay."
The mother turned and saw Kasumi. "Oh, Kasumi!"
In a mere moment, the woman was across the room, hugging Kasumi into her ample chest, forcing her to drop the cloak. She didn't resist, a small smile gracing her lips as she relaxed into the comfortable warmth.
"You're okay! I…I thought…"
Kasumi felt her heart sink slightly when Maaya sniffed. She patted her adoptive mother on the back comfortingly. "I'm good, mom. No need to worry."
The embrace lasted a moment longer, then Maaya pulled away, putting her hands over her heart. She sighed as Sojiro wrapped his arms around her from behind, shaking her gently—reassuringly.
"Thank goodness," Maaya smiled. She faltered a moment later. "Do either of you girls know what's going on? Where in the world are we? What happened? Because I'm doing my best not to panic right now."
Kasumi opened her mouth slightly, then closed it to think for a second. "I…I don't know. All I know is one moment, we're all at the range, then suddenly, I'm here, and Sor is waking me up."
"Wait…where's Mitch?" Everyone looked when Wakaba began to turn about frantically until she spotted Mitchell lying face-down near the edge of the ash circle—Soryan was crouched at his side, about to lay a hand on his shoulder. He gave her a steely look, his teeth showing as he put an urgent finger to his lips.
She winced at that, but still rushed over on the tips of her toes, leaning down to grasp Mitchell by the shoulders. She shook the man like a jackhammer pummels concrete.
"Mitch! Wake up! Wake up! I won't forgive you if you die on me!" she managed to whisper-scream.
It was a dramatic showing that nobody in the room had seen from her before. It would have been shocking if they too hadn't been worried for Mitchell's health.
Said American groaned drunkenly as he stirred. His jaw clacked a couple of times from Wakaba's shaking motion. "Whu-hu-hut?"
Mitchell's voice rose and fell in bounces with each one of Wakaba's shoulder shakes until the girl inevitably stopped upon the realization that Mitchell was alive.
"You're alive!" was all she said before wrapping Mitchell in a bone-crushing embrace.
Mitchell sat up slowly. He easily returned the girl's embrace—if he was in pain like everybody else had been, he did a good job of hiding it.
"Yeah, I'm still at it." He rubbed Wakaba's back affectionately. "Good to see you're alright too, Waka."
His gaze was drawn upwards to find his friends staring with relief on their faces. "Looks like we all made it. Thank god y'all are alright."
"We sure did," Soryan nodded. "To where though is another matter. Try to keep quiet for now. You alright, Mitch?"
He extended a hand when Wakaba pulled away and stood up.
Mitchell nodded, taking the offered hand and rising to his feet. "Yeah, for the most part. My body aches like hell, but I'll live."
His brain was foggy for a second or two, but the moment he recognized that he was in unfamiliar territory, years of dedicated training derived from his father and grandfather took over, and the tactical part of his psyche shifted into gear.
"I think we all kind of feel like shit," Sojiro commented. He raised his hands and flexed them experimentally.
Maaya gave him a dirty look. "Language!"
The man cowed under his wife's gaze. "Sorry, sorry…"
"Alright, so we all feel…not so good, but we're all okay, right?" Soryan asked. He received a round of affirmations. "Okay…good…good. So now, the elephant in the room. What the hell happened? I don't think any of us know the answer, but I'm sure we can all agree that we need to figure it out."
"Sounds like a good place to start," Kasumi agreed. "Not that there's anything else to start with." She paused when she saw a familiar object buried in the ash. She picked it up and brushed it off. "On second thought, maybe we should arm ourselves first. I think this belongs to you, Sor."
The Cambodian turned. His eyes widened when Kasumi approached with his CZ Sharp-Tail in hand.
"Oh—thanks." He took it by the grip, then practiced instinctive trigger discipline.
He noticed that he was still wearing his bandolier, and that his backpack and weapon kit were nearby, half-buried beneath a pile of ash. He extricated them quickly, placing the kit into the bag before throwing it on his back.
"Kas is right. If you guys brought anything to the range, I suggest you look for it now. Something tells me we're not coming back here…wherever here is."
At Soryan's suggestion, Mitchell looked around for his weapons. He found his Winchester laying near him. He checked the holster on his thigh to find his revolver where he left it, much to his relief. He retrieved his fallen rifle, scrutinizing it for any damage. Once he was satisfied, he kept the weapon at the ready, practicing proper firearm discipline, prepared for anything.
The Otonashi parents checked their pockets while Wakaba looked around for her bow.
"Is it weird that I'm feeling really calm right now?" Kasumi wondered, dusting off her cowboy hat. She eyed the earmuffs that she'd been wearing earlier and decided they didn't have any worth in this situation. "I feel like I should be freaking out a bit, you know?"
Perhaps it was the fact that everyone she knew and loved was okay, or that she was simply together with them, but whatever it was, she was thankful she hadn't lost her nerves.
"Good. First thing in any survival situation," Sojiro lectured. "Stay calm."
"As long as you're all okay, I think I can stay calm," Wakaba said, eyes downcast slightly. She continued to search for her bow.
"Anyone know why the floor's covered in ash?" Kasumi inquired suddenly. She picked up the cloak from before. "And look at this. Some kind of weird hood-thing with symbols all over it."
"Well, I'm guessing that when we started glowing earlier is related to how we got here." Soryan gave her a perplexed look. "I don't have much more than that, honestly. We need more info. Once we get out of this room, be ready for anything. Our priorities should be to get out safe, and find out why and how we got here, and maybe who brought us here."
"I mean, this cloak seems kinda occultish, don't you think?" Kasumi raised a brow. "And there's multiple—I can see nine or ten more over there, and there."
"Oh no…" Maaya worried, pressing her knuckles against her lips worriedly. "Have we been kidnapped?"
Soryan snorted. "If we were, our captors did a terrible job. We have our guns, and I'm assuming y'all have your phones since I have mine." He paused, then brought out his phone. "Huh. No signal. Figures."
Mitchell remained silent, mulling over the information they'd managed to gather. He shook his head—he'd leave the detective work to someone else.
Looking around the room one more time, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He looked over at it for a moment before his eyes widened minutely. He pat Wakaba's arm to get her attention. "Hey, there's your bow over there, Waka."
"Hm? Oh, thanks, Mitch!" Wakaba hurried over and picked it out of the ash, dusting it off a bit. "You're a lifesaver."
"Well, we can both be lifesavers then," Mitchell replied. He glanced back at the doorway. "Back me up, Waka?"
Now armed, Wakaba stepped beside him. "Of course. You can count on me."
"Everybody got their bearings?" Soryan stepped towards the doorway. He gestured towards it. "Like I said, we should get a move on, gather information, figure out what we're going to do next."
Maaya looked as uncomfortable at the idea as Sojiro looked pensive, but the former said nothing, and the latter only slowly nodded his head after a moment of consideration.
"As much as I'd hate to put any of us in danger, something tells me that help isn't coming. You're right, Sor. We've got nothing to discuss really, so getting out of here is our best move."
Soryan gave him a nod of appreciation. He looked at everyone, Kasumi, who stood with her arms resting at her sides, unnerved but ready for anything, Maaya, who hugged herself slightly, uncomfortable and worried about the whole situation, Sojiro, whose fists were clenched at his sides, causing his toned muscles to bulge slightly, Wakaba, who held her bow steady, and Mitch, who was giving one last look at his equipment—checking his ammo and everything.
Soryan focused on Mitchell.
"Right. Mitch, you take point with your revolver—that doorway is narrow from what I can see, and it looks like it leads into a long-ass corridor," Soryan explained as he stepped closer to the doorway. "I'll follow up behind you, then Wakaba follows me, then everybody else."
Several resolute nods were the response he got.
Mitchell had already wordlessly decocked the hammer of his rifle and slung it over his shoulder by the time Soryan had spoken. He cautiously stepped past Soryan, who put a hand on his shoulder, then drew his revolver and cocked the hammer back in preparation. The two of them lined up against the wall just adjacent to the doorway, Soryan behind Mitchell.
"You boys be careful!" Maaya whisper-screamed, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Everyone had gone deathly quiet when the boys began moving, Maaya just made it a point to follow their lead, even if she didn't like the idea of Soryan and Mitchell putting themselves in any unnecessary danger.
This didn't seem unnecessary, though.
Mitchell cautiously peeked into the doorway. As Soryan predicted, it was an extremely narrow passageway that extended a good thirty feet all the way to the next room, where he could see a small portion of the wall of that room, but nothing else. The passageway was just slightly wider than Mitchell's shoulders.
A little claustrophobic, but what choice did they have?
With a silent breath, he turned the corner and began advancing down the hallway, weapon raised and ready. He could hear the minor shuffles of his friends behind him, Soryan following first, Wakaba second, an arrow already notched.
When they reached the end of the passage, Mitchell stopped. He waited for Soryan's move—there it was, a pat on his right shoulder, indicating that when they entered the room, Soryan would go right, and Mitchell should go left.
Mitchell waited a moment more. Then he moved.
The instant he rounded the corner, Mitchell trained his revolver on the immediate blind spot first, then he swept his aim across the room, Soryan presumably doing the same to the opposite side behind him.
There was nothing but a table, a few chairs, and a couple of crates stacked in a corner. When he heard no gunshots, Mitchell sagged just slightly in relief.
"Clear," Soryan whispered.
"Clear," Mitchell echoed.
Behind them, Wakaba relaxed at their whispers, but she kept an arrow notched, ready to fire at a moment's notice. A small bead of sweat coalesced on her temple. She wasn't used to such a tense atmosphere. Neither was Kasumi, but her discomfort was exemplified by the fact that she had nothing she could use to help her friends.
At the back of the group, Sojiro was of a similar state of mind—it should be him making sure things would be safe. He was the one who worked as a security guard for Pete's sake! He shouldn't leave such stresses to a couple of college kids.
Maaya only remained fraught with worry, hopeful for their safe escape.
"Look here," Soryan muttered. There was another corridor at the corner of his side of the room. The wind was blowing strong from it, a couple of leaves gently sliding in. He peered in, his eyes widening slightly. "An exit. This is our way out of here."
"Another doorway on my end, Sor," Mitchell muttered, his revolver trained on the entrance.
Soryan bit his lip. "You want to check that first before we leave?"
Mitchell nodded. "Can't take any chances."
Soryan sagged slightly. "Alright. Let's get this over-with."
Without taking his eyes off the opposing doorway, Mitchell addressed Wakaba. "Hey, Waka, can ya cover the other exit while we do this?"
Wakaba blinked. "U-Uh, yeah, of course."
She hurried over and stared out into the distant sunlight. Kasumi watched her, then her eyes flitted to the boys.
Mitchell cautiously approached the opposing doorway with his revolver ready, listening carefully for any noise—any breathing, any minute body movements, anything to indicate hiding enemies—but he heard nothing. He didn't know whether to be disconcerted or relieved by that fact.
Soryan lined up against the wall opposite of him. The boy offered him a nervous nod. Mitchell gave him a motion that told him: cross clearing. Another nod.
Mitchell was the expert here. Everything Soryan knew about room-clearing and battle tactics, Mitchell taught him. The only thing he'd really learned on his own was proper weapon discipline, and proper shooting forms.
After a moment, Mitchell pushed in, sweeping across the right side of the room—the side opposite from where he was standing outside the room. His heart beat in slow anticipation, eyes scanning like a laser. He felt Soryan cross paths with him from behind, but he ignored it. He was relieved to find the room devoid of life—just a bunch of wooden bunks, a table, and a couple of chairs.
"Clear," he said.
"Clear," Soryan echoed. The two relaxed automatically. "And thank fuck for that."
Mitchell pat Soryan on the shoulder. "We're set, Sor. Let's get outta here."
"Right…of course," Soryan replied softly. As Mitch turned to leave, Soryan started to follow, but he stopped at the last moment. "Wait."
Mitchell stopped just as he entered the doorway. He looked back. "What?"
Soryan walked further into the room, approaching a lone desk on his side of the room that was leaned up against a wall—it had a small drawer beneath it. He pulled it open.
"Bingo," he quipped, retrieving a journal from the drawer. Hope and a little excitement bubbled within him. This could potentially be a solid block of information. "Almost missed this."
"Ah. How considerate of 'em to provide a nice manuscript for us." Mitchell waved Soryan over. "C'mon dude. Let's go."
"Yeah, sure." With that, Soryan tossed the journal into his backpack, then followed Mitchell out the room.
They were greeted by an almost nail-biting, yet still quite composed Maaya. "Did everything work out okay?"
She stepped over to them as Kasumi regarded them with a hand on her hip, and Sojiro with crossed arms. Wakaba looked back, a question in her eyes.
Mitchell laid a hand on Maaya's arm, patting it reassuringly. "It did. Otherwise, it would've gotten very loud just now." He turned to the others. "We're good to go, y'all."
"Finally," Kasumi half-groaned. "This place gives me the creeps. Let's bounce."
"Don't have to tell me twice," Soryan muttered.
Once the group gathered their bearings, they entered the corridor and left the building.
None of them had ever felt so relieved to step out into the inviting sunlight and feel the cool, windy breeze against their skin. When their eyes adjusted to the light, they found themselves in a forest of tall, thick trees. They were unrecognizable as any tree any of them had ever seen.
Curious, Soryan turned around. His eyes widened. "Holy shit…"
At his astonishment, the others turned around as well. Their eyes widened as well when they landed on the towering mountain before them, its peaks reaching the clouds. Whatever structure they'd been in, it had been underground, built into the base of a mountain!
Mitchell was quick to shake off his shock—he was used to such sights due to living near the Rocky Mountains for most of his life. He focused on more important things. He looked around for any trails or roads—the people that kidnapped them had to arrive here somehow. Unless they were completely stuck out in the wilderness in the middle of nowhere, they had to have had a method to get here. Even if it were something as simple as a deer trail.
"I guess we're not in Northern Texas anymore, huh?" Kasumi quipped.
"No…no I don't think so," Soryan replied, awed.
"This is the kinda place ya see in Northern Colorado if anythin'," Mitchell muttered, his eyes scanning the ground. He decocked the hammer on his revolver and holstered it.
"But is it Northern Colorado?" Sojiro looked over at the focused American.
Mitchell surveyed the surrounding forest with an evaluating eye. "I've been huntin' in the Colorado wilderness for all my life, an' I can say I've never seen these types a' trees before."
He slowly shook his head, looking around with increasing wariness as he brought out his Winchester."...No. I don't think we're there either."
"This definitely isn't anywhere in Japan, either," Wakaba stated, looking around. "I've been all over the country for archery competitions, but I've never seen anything like this."
They all stood there for a moment, taking in the implications. For all intents and purposes, they were effectively stranded in the middle of nowhere with no food, no water, no information, and no help coming to save them.
Soryan shook his head. "That can't be it. Maybe the journal…?"
Wakaba looked over. "Huh? Journal?"
Soryan didn't reply, shrugging off his pack to retrieve the journal. Wakaba and Kasumi peeked over his shoulders. He flipped it open. All three of them made faces of incomprehension.
Mitchell looked over at Soryan flatly. "Lemme guess. It's not in a language we can understand?"
"Oh, God," Soryan muttered. "What is this?"
Maaya and Sojiro looked at one another worriedly. The implication of some foreign text that didn't even look halfway recognizable as something any of them could understand, like romaji, cyrillic, arabic, or even vietnamese or khmer was concerning.
Mitchell sighed, moving towards the treeline to search for any openings to a trail. "So, that's useless. Guess we're flyin' blind. Yay."
"Dammit," Soryan cursed under his breath.
Kasumi, however, looked at the side of his head from over his shoulder. "Maybe there's some pictures that might help?"
Soryan pursed his lips, then flipped a few pages. He stopped on a particularly written page that had a few sketches on it. They were all images of…runic circles? And strange, mythological beasts the likes of which nobody had ever seen. That…didn't really help much.
With a sigh, Soryan snapped the journal shut and placed it back into his pack. He looked back to the girls and their parents and gave a shrug. Kasumi only crossed her arms in slight annoyance at their luck.
Sojiro gave a small headshake. "We'll figure something out." His gaze flitted over to Mitchell, who was a fair distance away. "I say take advice from Mitchell on this one. From what he's told me, he's an experienced hunter. He might be able to find us a way out of here."
Mitchell stood from where he was examining the ground. As he'd expected, a deer trail. A well hidden one at that. This place was way too secluded for it to be otherwise.
He turned back to the others. "Guys! I think I found our way forward!"
"What did I say?" Sojiro gave his daughters a confident look.
Wakaba smiled, as did Kasumi—though she playfully rolled her eyes at her father's seemingly innocent naivety. Maaya sighed in relief as she gave her own fond smile.
"Nice going, Mitch!" Wakaba called as she walked towards the American. The whole group migrated with her after a second.
Mitchell pointed ahead as they approached. "Deer trail. A well-worn one too, so it's been used alot." He looked over at them with serious eyes. "I gotta warn y'all though, we have no idea where this leads, or how far we need to trek across the wilderness. Deer trails are notorious for goin' all over the place, after all."
He made a gesture with his hand. "Just in case, be prepared for a nice, long nature hike. I'll navigate."
"I've got no arguments," Sojiro nodded.
"Same here," Maaya agreed. "Just…be careful. Sorry if I sound like a broken record."
"You don't. I'll be careful, Mom." With that, Mitchell headed into the treeline, his eyes alternating between scanning the ground and his surroundings.
Maaya blinked. A certain warmth filled her heart. Though it wasn't the first time Mitchell had accidentally referred to her as his mother, it comforted and brightened her knowing that he held her so close in his heart and in such high regard, especially after what had happened to his real mother. She couldn't hide the small smile on her face.
"Hey Mitch," Kasumi smirked. "You did it again~"
"...Fuck off, Donnie Yen." Was his only response through the trees.
"I'll take that as a compliment!"
VVVVV
A/N: SYD: Yes I know what you're thinking—yet another self-insert fic to fulfill my terrible fantasies and sidetrack from WHGS. Yes, I'm trash, I know. But at least I'm not alone.
RPG: I'll gladly accept my fate.
SYD: As if this fate is so cruel. Dropped into the world of Monster Girl Encyclopedia? Amazing! Well…maybe only halfway amazing. You'll see why soon enough.
RPG: Yep. This ain't your usual ride, that's for sure.
SYD: Yes, prepare for LOOOOOORRREEE! Made by yours-truly of course.
RPG: Lore Master SYD. I'm here for it. Makes me wonder how you'd be as a DnD DM.
SYD: Halfway decent maybe. I'd need time and a spark of creativity, that's for sure.
RPG: Speaking of time, we haven't forgotten our other stories. We've just been… very busy people for a while now.
SYD: Yes, definitely. I'd rather not go into detail, honestly.
RPG: Same. But if these stories of ours ain't your cup of tea, feel free to go sit and wait on WHGS some more.
SYD: Anyways…ready to wrap this up I guess?
RPG: Yeah, I need to go work on my own story anyways. Sat on that for too long already. Bye y'all.
SYD: Right then. Cya y'all in the next chapter. SYD, out.