As the Crows Fall | ONC 2020 Grand Winner

vii | The Hunter

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Mu'en once knew Ruyue.

He once remembered her name and face and voice.

Once.

Before blood was sold and a deal was made. Before the crows came and hid the memory behind his eyes, in a place he could no longer touch it. They didn't steal it, no, they simply buried it deep and let all other memories wash over it.

Memories like Shiyuan.

Shiyuan, who isn't so different than the crows in that regard, who can bury all the parts of himself that he does not want others to know exist. He tucks them away, shoves them between the folds of his life and pushes them deep, deep down where no one can see them, but somehow he lets them bleed freely with Mu'en. He tells him his darkest secrets, his tales of suffering, every bad thing that he keeps chained inside.

Shiyuan tells him everything, it seems, except that he killed Ruyue.

The night before Shiyuan dies, Mu'en sits atop the warehouse encased by the forest. Mu'en watches the city during the day, but at night he turns his face to the sky.

"The more you look at the world, the smaller it seems."

Mu'en turns as Shiyuan's voice sounds behind him. He smiles softly as he makes his way over to sit beside Mu'en. There is silence between them. No talking. No laughing. No touching. Just silence.

It is Mu'en who breaks it.

"Shiyuan, do you remember the girl who died, just after I met you?" Mu'en eventually asks, clutching at the straws of memory, but they are made from sandstone and crumble in his grasp. "I don't remember who she was."

Shiyuan is quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on the pavement and at first Mu'en does not think he heard him. "Yes. I . . . remember."

"What was her name?"

He breathes out. "Ruyue."

"Do you think she has family out there? That anyone cares?" He doesn't know why he's saying all these things now. He's never cared much about what other's think before. "She always talked like it was just her against the world, like she came from nowhere and was going nowhere and like no one knew her name."

"I think," Shiyuan begins absently, "that she's going to be alright. Wherever she is. She's happy now."

"Happy." Mu'en turns the word over on his tongue and somehow, it tastes like a lie. "Happy."

"Yes," Shiyuan sighs, gaze distant. "Xiangxin wo ba."

Trust me.

And Mu'en does.

He trusts Shiyuan so much it terrifies him.

But trust, it seems, is not enough for him to remember the girl called Ruyue.

It is only fitting that her memory be buried under that of the one who killed her.

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"Move."

Mu'en's eyes snap up at Zihao's sharp tone as he steps around Manuel. Usually Zihao is respectful. Sometimes he is sarcastic. Rarely is he impatient.

Never is he angry.

But now he is.

Mu'en moves to stand and scowls deeply as he's wrenched back to his wheelchair, courtesy of his body. Today, he woke up with shooting pains down his spine and resigned himself to being confined to a wheelchair for the remainder of the day.