Shuhua hears Soojin's blades dig deeper, mangling the creature’s remains. Its wings flap helplessly then still. The disgusting squelch of young flesh reminds her of her predicament. 

Soojin had made a tiny quip at the expense of Miyeon. Harmless in intention. 

It ignited belated resentment. The subtlety, her efforts to remain in control of her emotions, to simply not feel. They scattered as soon as the topic turned to Miyeon. 

Out here in the open glade, her disappointment, her grievances and frustrations bursts forth unrestrained. Jarring, surprising herself with how much anger she has contained within. 

“Watching her languish, wretched and broken. Is it wrong of me to hate her?” she asks.

“I believe you have every right to hate her.” Soojin wipes her blades clean on the grass, staining the field. “I'll ask you this. Cattle are saved from the butcher, bathed and cleaned, only to be tied to a plow. Worked to the bone, denied any rest. Would the cattle’s fate have been worse if they were sent to the butcher instead?” 

“No. The cattle obviously wouldn’t have suffered as much if they were immediately chopped up.”

“Now let me rephrase that. The cattle are forced to pull the plow. When they are old, having lost their strength, their utility to the farmer, they will be sent to the butcher. Which is the worse fate?” 

“Working for the farmer. The cattle will never be able to escape the butcher. It’s a fact,” grumbles Shuhua. Losing her patience. “What is with you reapers speaking in riddles?”

“You asked for my opinion. I’m just explaining it to you.”

“It’s a disease. Complicating everything.” 

Soojin laughs wryly, “when you’ve lived as long as we have, you’ll be the same.”

“I hope not. That would mean I’d be a chronic liar who’s a pitiful coward.” The undergrowth rustles, the wind blowing stronger. “After last night, I don’t want to see Miyeon in my sight again.” The bushes shake with larger movements. 

Crows fly from the trees, raucously cawing. Coming off as frightened.  

For a moment, Shuhua imagines Miyeon here. Hidden, listening and holding onto every word. Then fleeing, running from words meant to hurt. It would be poetic justice. Shuhua can almost hear quickening footsteps, bolting from the scene. 

“You don’t hate her,” says Soojin.   

A simple statement, a short comment made from careful observation. Unraveling the ties of her twisted fantasy. Bringing her back to reality. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t think you’re capable of hating her. That’s why you’re here, asking me to teach you. Your actions contradict your words. You’d rather cling to the thinnest strand of life than to give in to death’s embrace. You're grateful she saved you to begin with.” 

“Quit it with the metaphors.” Shuhua crosses her arms, not knowing what to do with them. 

“You can’t change the subject.”

“Watch me.” 

“Shuhua. If you really hated Miyeon, you wouldn’t be here. Alive. Wanting to improve so Miyeon wouldn’t tire out as fast.” Annoyance pricks her skin. What does Soojin know about her? Is she that easy to read? “You would’ve walked back into the alley and waited for a monster to finish what should have happened the night Miyeon saved you.” 

Soojin holds her palm out to her, gesturing to her waist. “Let me see.” Begrudgingly, Shuhua unties the cloth, allowing it to flutter to the ground. 

She hands over her sword, sheathed in its scabbard. 

“I didn’t believe you at first. I didn’t think Miyeon would do this. Give a part of herself to you.” Soojin unsheathes the sword, swinging it once. She twirls the hilt, expertly shifting it in her hand. Not a nick on her fingers.

“But this blade reeks of her soul. Simple and sturdy, nothing fancy. It’s light and easy to wield. As if it was designed for novices,” Soojin remarks.  

The sword plunges into the dirt with force. Sticking upright. “Miyeon has always been the kindest of us all.” 

“She would question why we hunt. She would look behind her shoulder, wondering why is it that she couldn’t save the little girl in the red dress. The boy with calloused hands and painful blisters from the forge. She pushed herself to hunt even when she was satiated.” 

Shuhua understands where Soojin is coming from. Yesterday, the stain of guilt was palpable.   Miyeon’s lies were mercy in their own abnormal way; it’s not hard to understand the soft-hearted intent. 

“Miyeon tells us she wants to challenge herself and that’s why she hunted more than the rest of us combined. None of us believe her though.” Soojin pauses briefly, the ghost of a sardonic smile threatening to appear. Half-lidded eyes, finding humor in something beyond Shuhua’s knowledge.  

“We were wondering when she’d actually save someone, have us turn a human into a reaper. Then it finally happened,” says Soojin. “We didn’t think she’d do anything, even go as far as relinquishing her title, the source of her honour, to save you. Being the leader was her pride.” 

Everything clicks into place. The badly concealed longing stares when Shuhua cracked jokes with Minnie and Yuqi. The discomfort whenever Soyeon was in the same vicinity. 

All of the missing puzzle pieces are within her grasp. 

Pulling the sword out of the ground, Soojin studies the blade, eyes flickering towards her. 

“I’ll teach you because I trust Miyeon’s judgement. And because it pains me to see an old friend whine about death.” 

Stumbling through, Shuhua rushes down the hallway. Legs unsteady. About to collapse and ready for a nap. The mud on her face tells her otherwise, that a quick wash is in order.    

She swears she’ll go insane if she hears another one more time! while she swings at straw dummies and real monsters. Soojin didn’t give her more than a minute of rest. 

Shuhua is so preoccupied with the cursed one more time!, she doesn’t notice Miyeon. Bumping into her, sharp pain flares in her forehead. 

“Sorry.” Indistinct, a subdued mumble. There isn’t a chance for Shuhua to respond and Miyeon is gone, slipping into her own room.

Training with Soojin is predictable. Comforting. She’s never left behind on the mountain without warning. She doesn’t have to chase after someone who runs at the speed of light. 

Confidently wielding the blade, she’s catching up to Soojin’s level. That’s what matters most. 

Everyday, she comes home soaked in sweat. Bearing the fruits of her labour. Physically, she has grown stronger. When she’s on the ground, barely able to lift her sword, breathing heavily, Soojin praises her. Your footwork has gotten faster. Your angles are cleaner. 

It fills her with pride. Satisfaction.

Pride doesn’t erase the tinges of ennui at the end of every training session. 

“There’s a basilisk on the loose.” Shuhua looks up briefly to meet Soyeon’s gaze, showing she’s listening. Nobody else has looked up. Shuhua goes back to eating her bowl of rice, head down.

Food isn’t necessary for reapers though it’s nice to indulge.   

“And you want us to hunt it?” asks Yuqi. Still shoveling rice into . Like the others. No one truly pays attention   

“I can do it,” volunteers Miyeon. 

“Miyeon and Shuhua then?” Soyeon suggests. 

Eating the last grain of rice, Shuhua sets her bowl aside. “Sure.” 

“Is it alright if I go with Yuqi instead?” says Miyeon. Yuqi coughs, choking. Slamming down her fist on the table. Repeatedly. “Me?”

For some odd reason, Shuhua can feel her lips tugging into a curl. She molds closed, forcing a tight smile.  

Miyeon shrugs. “Why not. It’s been awhile.” Yuqi stares at her, eyes bugged out. Probably surprised by Miyeon acknowledging her existence.  

“Okay. Miyeon and Yuqi will hunt the basilisk.”  

Shuhua spends more time with Soojin. Dedicating most of her waking hours to training.

Today, Soojin let her go early, citing she had caught wind of a special event at the base of the mountain. Coaxing her to stop by before the sun sets. 

So she does, but not before asking, badgering Soojin for details. The answer, your burial, was pretty convincing. Try as she might, Soojin refused to name her informant. An ominous you’ll see being the reply.     

The quintessence of strangeness is standing far away from your own funeral, high up in the trees. Overlooking your mourning, grief-stricken father and mother bury a crimson-stained shred of cloth. The traces of her once white tunic, left behind at the scene of her supposed death.

Her mother sobs, tears pouring down. Her father consoles, weeping nonetheless. They push dirt into the hole, laying to rest the remains of her human life.  

There is no use in revealing she’s still alive and well. Questions would emerge in a few years time. How would she explain to her aging parents her youthful face?

The villagers wouldn’t hesitate to tie her to a stake and alight the pyre beneath her feet.  

Shuhua watches the scene carry on, her dear parents finishing the task, sweeping dust off an ornate wooden board in the ground. Marking, telling the world that she had once existed, lived on Earth.

She stays when her parents leave. She stays where she is, her hand against the tree trunk. Steadies her feet. Slowly lowers her body, perching on the thick branch. 

Making sense of what transpired. The bizarreness of it all. 

A part of her wants to leap from the tree and follow her parents home, forgetting, rewriting reality. Shuhua allows herself to revel in what could have been. 

Amidst the glowing light of the sky, purple blues and oranges diffusing and scattering, she finds sobriety. With every breath, in and out, tranquility caresses her. Nightfall descends. 

In the distance, a lone woman approaches her burial site. Clutching a single Asian pear, placing it in front of the wooden board. Moonlight shines away from where the woman kneels, her face, ill-defined in the dark. 

Glinting ivory on her back, as pure as snow, reveals her identity. 

Shuhua doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  

AN: Fun fact, pear trees symbolize comfort. 

This is the last chapter that happens in the past so it’s a tiny bit longer. I thought it’d be a nice change of pace to write in Shuhua’s pov. 

The song I listened to the most for this chapter was gidle’s tung-tung from their latest japanese album. I wasn’t inspired by the lyrics, but more so from the overall vibes of the song. 

On another note, I’m currently working on a mishu oneshot that’s past 10k words. (Spoilers: it’s the superpower au no one wanted). It’s certified as my baby so when it comes out in the near future, please don’t let it flop.  

Thanks for putting up with my rambling.