Facing Fear | ✓ ONC 2023 Honorable Mention

9 | Breakup

"Ren?" Mori couldn't think, yet memories deluged her buffering brain. She remembered a fellow schoolgirl who despised having to dye her natural honey-colored hair to dress-code conforming black, a girl whose favorite ice cream flavor was strawberry, her first SniperX partner and the public representative of their team.

Ren had been the only one bold enough to show her face over live streams. In the early days, when other gamers were toxic, Ren had been the one to shut them down. When Mori buckled from the pressure and the online bullying, Ren had been the one to bolster her up.

But eight years ago, Mori had quit gaming, cut off her team, and moved across the ocean. She hadn't seen or spoken to any of them since.

Until now.

Mori stared at her former best friend, watching Ren's expression shift from shock, to fear, to anger. Ren's knuckles whitened as she gripped her scythe. Eyes narrowed, her voice came out like a growl, "Catch up with you later, Mentos."

Amidst the roar of the crowd and the hum of the electrical barrier, Ren swept her scythe in an arc. The weapon spilled out purple smoke that crept across the ground to reach Mori.

Sensation in her feet disappeared. Mori gasped and stumbled backward, but the smoke clung to her legs like viscous slime. The white bar of her health flashed before inching lower.

"Mori!" Ronin shouted behind her. "Do...do something! Don't just stand there!"

Don't shoot your friends. How ironic now.

Biting her lip, Mori shouldered her rifle and fired a wild shot at her opponent. The bullet connected with shielding, making the bubble visible. Aiming for the pocket, Mori squeezed the trigger again. The bubble shattered like glass, but when the glimmers in the air fizzled out, Ren was nowhere to be seen.

"What—" Mori spun around a second too slow. Glass rained down in shards and pain reverberated through her skull, blacking out her vision. She dropped to her knees. Nothing had ever hurt this much before, and even without her sight, she could feel her health's rapid decline.

"Gotten rusty, have we? You always used to be so good at guarding flank though."

Metal tore through her gut, slipping below her ribs. Mori's hand closed around the point of the weapon, the scythe's blade cutting deep into her palm, in a vain effort to stop it.

This was agony. This was pain so unbearable she couldn't even scream, only gasp like a fish snagged out of the water by a silver hook.

And as fear closed in, death right on its heels, Mori thought she heard someone laughing.

Dying lasted a mere moment.

Mori surfaced, shivering as if she'd stepped out of a hot tub into freezing air. She put a hand to her stomach and found it whole. Her head spun, sending her heaving out her insides onto the grass. Never again. Ronin, you're going to pay for this.

A hand slipped under her arm and helped her to her feet. Mori groaned in protest, but the person half-dragged her off the field.

"First time?" Ren's voice asked with mild amusement.

"I deserve it, don't I?" Mori slurred—her tongue didn't want to work. Soft grass brushed her cheek as Ren lowered her onto the ground.

"Kinda. You did ghost me after all."

Mori curled into fetal position. "I'm sorry," she whispered, cracking open an eyelid.

Ren sat on the grass next to her, scythe in her lap. Her brown eyes softened beneath long lashes. "I guess I accept your apology. I just...I wish you'd told me more, you know? You said goodbye but—well, I guess I didn't really think you meant it until you were gone."