“I’ll, uh,” Miyeon collects her arrow from the disintegrating pile of ashes, of what used to be a lumpy brown carcass. Her back to Shuhua, crouched down. A standstill. Then asking in a quieter voice. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

Recurrently, there’s that hopeful note peering at the top, reminding Shuhua of shy kittens and puppies. 

“Yeah, see you then.” 

Miyeon turns around and Shuhua is highly aware, she’d have to be blind to miss how Miyeon’s face lights up.    

And this is where they would part ways, but all she can think of is how fast the night has ended in a flash. Like that, an unfinished quality to it—incomplete—as if there should be more.

She’s compelled to say whatever that comes to mind, anything to prolong this moment. Selfishly wanting to hold on for a bit longer. “Are you alright?” 

“What do you mean?” says Miyeon, all within a subdued breath. Slurring a bit, obviously exhausted. 

“I’m just asking because you seem tired. Maybe we should take a break tomorrow?” The implication isn’t hidden. Shuhua won’t be broaching the subject aloud either. 

“No, it’s okay, I’m alright.” 

Miyeon waves her off. 

----

She keeps a watchful eye on Miyeon throughout the next night, prepared to intervene without a moment’s notice. 

Shuhua hasn’t jumped in yet.  

Miyeon is holding up. On the outside. 

It then happens. 

A misplaced step, a hellhound lunging high for exposed skin; there’s too much of a gap to cover between her and Miyeon. Never mind that Shuhua’s weapon is not a spear or a javelin of some sort, she almost throws it at the beast.   

She doesn’t have to. 

The hellhound receives a dagger in the neck, glowing white runes appearing over fur. The beast is but dust. 

Shuhua rushes forward, catching Miyeon as she stumbles, fingertips pressing into the older’s spine. Holding her steady for longer than she should. 

Miyeon pushes her away quickly. “I don’t need your help.” 

Whether it’s true or not, Shuhua doesn’t care. She has been on guard with her pulse caught in the entire night. And a flimsy, weak statement reopens wounds she thought she had buried for good this week. 

“It seemed like you needed it, I’m sorry for caring,” Shuhua snaps. 

Miyeon has the gall to look taken aback. Startled by her ferocity.

“I didn’t mean to. I just thought that,” furrowing her eyebrows, Miyeon tries again. In a reserved tone. “What I said came out wrong.”

“Yeah, you think?”  

Miyeon isn’t given the chance to respond.  

Abruptly, the rumbling of the earth cuts through the air; a shrill cry later. Female and strikingly human. 

Their quarrel is forgotten. Put on hold as the ground ceaselessly shakes. Not another word, they both hurtle on pavement, heading to the source. Experience guides them; this isn’t an earthquake. 

And they’re right. 

In the middle of the baseball field. The slow rise and fall in the girl’s chest, unconscious, but alive. 

The earth dragon looming over the girl presents a Herculean challenge. 

Hailing from primitive stirrings, leviathan even in its coiled form, snake-like mass is grounded through its four legs. Crudely sniffing, exhaling steam.

No other monster has invoked this sort of reaction through her body. Tremors. Dread freezing the rest of her limbs that aren’t shaking. Shuhua knows her options are limited. Strangled.  

To her side, Miyeon is faring for the worse from their sprint.

Blanched. Whiter than earlier. 

Shuhua’s sword is drawn. She wouldn’t though. She can’t.

She doesn’t dare to fight. 

“Over here!” 

Following Miyeon’s voice, neck twisting, the dragon stretches to its full length. Treads, stalks across the field. Abandons its fixation over the unconscious girl for better prey. 

Shuhua has to plead. Watching Miyeon create distance from her, is parched by the uncertainty of the ramifications, the certainty of Miyeon’s way of thought. “Don’t do this.”

“You don’t have to,” Shuhua chokes out. 

“I’ll be fine,” Miyeon holds her gaze, almost swaying Shuhua. Nearly dispels the fallacy of what she’s about to do. 

“Trust me.” 

Miyeon continues to stride forward. Grim and fearless. When the dragon charges, they engage in a deadly dance.

Two arrows remain in Miyeon’s quiver. Shuhua believes—she would bet a thousand times over, for all of eternity as long as she’s still breathing that Miyeon only needs one arrow. 

A single shot to fell the dragon. 

That isn’t going to happen. 

Miyeon doesn’t reach for an arrow. Zero intention to shoot.  

Shuhua makes a move toward Miyeon and the earth dragon, the slightest step, and Miyeon’s eyes flash in warning. 

“Shuhua!” Miyeon yells. “Go save her!” 

Leading the raging creature away from them, harsh breaths through her nose. 

While panting through gritted teeth. 

And at first, it seems to be working, Miyeon stays one step ahead, ducking and weaving. 

The dragon’s claw. The near misses starting to not look as calculated as before. Miyeon’s stamina is rapidly depleting. 

Anyone can see that. 

Outcomes racking through her mind, a choice in front of her. Shuhua chooses to forgo her better judgement. Her usual judgement. 

She sheathes her katana. 

She runs to the stranger on the ground, slings her over her back without a hitch. And runs. Runs out of the dragon’s reach.  

The clock ticking against her.  

Hurriedly rushing away to the nearest hospital, careening through the automatic doors. She practically dumps the girl in the emergency room’s receptionist area. Body slumped and hanging limply in the chair. 

“Hey! Where are you going?” Falling upon deaf ears, no seconds to lose.

The receptionist rounds the counter—chases after her, but Shuhua is already gone.   

Mounting speed, faster than what the mortal eye can catch. Pushing herself. Racing back. 

She’s on autopilot the moment she sees Miyeon. 

Shuhua barrels into the colossal dragon. 

Both hands wrap around the dragon’s talon, wrenching up. Snapping off. Unbound anger fuels her strength—Shuhua hurls it into its eye. 

The deafening roar fails to stop her in her tracks.   

She’s not even thinking anymore. “Shuhua, what—“ Carrying Miyeon in one fell swoop, nothing else matters right now. 

She doesn’t stop running, she hears her heart pounding, feeling alive for the first time in centuries, like she has something to lose. She ignores the fists hitting her chest, the cries for her to stop. 

She’s relying on muscle memory, halting when she realizes where her feet have taken her. 

Lowering Miyeon, the woman’s feet land with a quiet thud.  

Keys jingling, Miyeon unlocking the door, the sound may as well be grey noise for Shuhua. From head to toe, scanning vacantly, lingering on scatheless skin, the beats in her heart slow to a steady rhythm, and everything is alright again. 

She follows Miyeon inside. 

----

Some people snore loudly, rumbling thunder in her wake. It’s a deep breath for others. Miyeon is neither, softly whistling in her slumber. 

The sound blends into the background. 

Miyeon didn’t make it to her own bed, passing out on the couch unceremoniously. Leaving no room for Shuhua to occupy the same space. 

Suppose Miyeon was awake. Shuhua would tell her she’s doing an underwhelming emulation of a boiling kettle. But she isn’t awake and Shuhua is alone with her thoughts. 

“You can stay over.” 

Padding to the bedroom, she takes the blanket in her arms, returns to the living room, and drapes it across Miyeon’s form. Taking care her feet are covered, tucking the upper edges below her chin. 

Shuhua has never spent the night here, but she can make an exception. 

She has learned more than enough about herself tonight. 

AN: Another update within the same month? Coinciding with Miyeon’s birthday? It’s all thanks to my pc for its inability to run gongshow, gongcha, genshin impact properly.