Rangers Endgame

Yakeru and Fuyumi staggered back through the field, each step a negotiation with his body. Occasionally, he’d stumble onto his hands, head pounding, darkness threatening to press in further. His companion’s supportive touch grounded him as she carefully helped him up every time.

They followed the destruction left by the bloodhound, wind working to blanket scorched stone with snow. Frost vestiges never attacked them. Whether it was because of the hound or the wavering storm, he didn’t know.

The village—what was left of it—bled through the white screen ahead. And with it, the silhouette of three figures. They rushed forward, Takahiro taking Yakeru, Risa supporting Fuyumi. Yakeru dragged his gaze up to meet Yuto’s, and handed him his ruined shield, now blackened and melted in areas that mattered.

“Sorry,” Yakeru whispered.

“I’m just glad you fared better than the steel did.”

Yuto holstered it on his back and tried slinging his other arm over his shoulder, but Yakeru winced when something sharp speared through his elbow. Yuto jumped back apologetically.

“Or not.”

Together, they helped them through the ruins, to the opening in the ground that used to have a reinforced hatch, and descended the stairs. Frightened murmurs crawled up the stairs to meet them, muffling against his ears. The cold lingered on his bruised skin.

Orange light illuminated flat ground below. His vision flickered; he felt his back rest against something hard, then his sight blurred back in. Moments earlier, they were descending, and now he was somehow sitting against a wall with his arm in a sling.

Fuyumi patted his cheek—maybe a tad harder than needed—keeping him conscious. Risa brought over a vial and popped the cork. Its familiar, somewhat sweet taste slid down his throat. His body warmed, the cold evaporating as injuries mended. The darkness around his vision loosened but was still ever-present.

He then noticed the room: muttering villagers huddled together and staring at the rangers who’d failed to protect their home.

He ignored them for now.

Risa pulled out another vial and offered it to Fuyumi. She waved it away.

“I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do,” Risa cut in, shoving the vial into her possession.

“I said I—”

“And I said you do.” Risa crossed her arms. “Now drink.”

Fuyumi clicked her tongue, sharp and irritated, but popped the cork anyway. “Unbelievable.”

As she drank, a small figure edged out from behind the crowd. Emi—boots worn, hair slightly tangled, hands clutching the ends of her oversized coat. She hesitated halfway, looking up at Fuyumi with uncertain eyes.

Fuyumi turned, her posture softening whether she meant for it to or not. “...What?”

Emi took another step toward her, looking her over. “Are you… hurt?”

Fuyumi blinked, as if the question had caught her somewhere unguarded. “We’re fine.” She produced the white lilac from her satchel, blackened from the battle. The change in her face told Yakeru she hadn’t expected it to turn out like that. “Sorry.”

Emi shook her head vigorously, as if slapping away her apology. “That’s okay. I’ll make you another one!”

Fuyumi put it back in her satchel. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

The way Emi looked at her with determination said she was going to anyway.

At the far end of the room, a stir rippled through the villagers. People parted, the guards supporting an older woman as they made their way over. Chief Zeri was bandaged and limping, but awake. She winced each time her left foot landed, but she forged onward to approach the rangers.

“You returned,” she said, voice thin but steady, a protective hand on Emi’s shoulder.

Yakeru straightened as much as his exhausted body would allow to show respect. “We did.”

“And what of the bloodhounds?”

“Gone,” Fuyumi answered for him, the single word holding the weight of finality.

Murmurs spread throughout the chamber, fragile and hopeful. The chief closed her eyes briefly, relief softening the lines in her face.

“Good,” she breathed, loosening her hand on the child. “And the village?”

The air behind her shifted from gentle celebration to quiet accusations, gazing pointedly at the rangers. Yuto shuffled under the weight, and Risa averted her eyes regretfully, looking anywhere but at them. Takahiro almost mistook the attention for gratitude, mouth curling, but when no one smiled, he shrank back in true understanding. Fuyumi—being Fuyumi—stared back at them, almost with challenge.

Yakeru’s face didn’t change, but something settled in his chest—a reproachful pressure he allowed to situate itself there. “...Gone too.”

The stares didn’t waver. The guards shot looks, too. Voices rippled throughout the chamber.

“—If only they’d—”

“—right the first time, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“—shouldn’t have trusted rangers to—”

“—supposed to do now? We can’t just—”

Throughout it all, Chief Zeri never once regarded their party the same way the villagers now did. But she didn’t exactly stop them either.

Beside Yakeru, Risa folded her arms, brows furrowed. “We can’t keep these people down here forever.”

Yuto rubbed the back of his neck. “Even if we do get everyone off the mountain, where would they go? They probably lived their whole lives here. Relocating isn’t that simple.”

“I know, but leaving them here isn’t an option.”

“They can’t exactly rebuild either,” Yakeru added, cupping his chin. “The artifact keeping storms at bay is gone. It’s my fault.”

“Let’s not cast blame.” Fuyumi flicked his head, but with less force than usual. “There’s already enough of that right now.”

Risa cupped her chin, gears visibly turning to conjure a solution. “Then how do we—”

“Ah!” A voice cut cleanly through the tension, bright, theatrical, and a bit too pleased with itself.

Takahiro had stepped forward, posture strangely reassuring, as if the moment had been waiting for him specifically. He unnecessarily adjusted his gloves and offered a smile designed for an audience rather than his team.

“Dear companions,” he began, placing a hand over his chest. “It would appear that you have reached the limits of your imagination.”

Risa narrowed her emerald eyes, a scolding edge to them. “Not now.”

Either he didn’t notice, or he chose not to. “Fortunately,” he continued. “Yours truly has not.”

He turned slightly, ensuring both the villagers and his party could see him clearly, chin lifting just a touch higher.

“There is, as it happens, a solution to this hapless predicament,” he announced with a grand gesture. “One so elegant, so generous that you will find yourselves with no other choice but to graciously accept.”

He paused, waiting for the murmurs to stir again, this time rising from a place of cautious curiosity. If the idiot noble knew anything, it was to garner attention.

“Please,” Takahiro grinned, “allow yours truly to rescue you from the muck of uncertainty.”

*****

It took another day for the storm to fade, taking its unseen threats with it. The villagers and rangers had scoured the ruins for any belongings that’d miraculously survived. Needless to say, this phase of the plan was short.

As everyone began marching, the guards as their escort, Emi looked back at what was once her home. Fuyumi waited a distance away with Chief Zeri. They couldn’t see the girl’s face, but something akin to reluctant acceptance settled in her shoulders.

She walked back to the others, oversized boots dragging through the snow.

Takahiro led the dense pack of tired villagers, his enthusiasm contrasting with their exhaustion. Yuto travelled with the guards despite their initial protests. Risa bounced from one villager to the next, not assisting per se, but conversing lightly with a smile to try to simmer their passive aggression—which in itself was a bit helpful.

Yakeru chose to trudge behind the winding mass of people, close enough to feel their warmth, but far enough to not deal with any interaction. Further off to the side, Emi’s downcast eyes began glimmering with a newfound wonder as she gazed around at the approaching green scenery below. Unfortunately, Fuyumi hadn’t predicted the bombardment of questions that followed the closer they came to the mountain’s base.

The most challenging hurdle was the suspension bridge, where some discovered their fear of heights for the first time. It took an hour to funnel everyone through the old bridge. Otherwise, it was a relatively straight shot down.

Stale air gave way to singing birds, and the path freed itself from the snow. The base of the mountain softened from shale to lush green as the familiar meadow bloomed into view. The Nandemo Estate sat confidently in the grass, still flaunting its quality-grade limestone and polished glass in the same grand way as it did the first time seeing it.

The sea of heads panned in awe.

Emi bounced on the balls of her feet with wonder, Fuyumi having to grab her collar when she almost fell. The people passed by the perfectly maintained greenery, soaking in the warmth while watching animals roam the expanse.

“Ah, still as magnificent as the day we left,” Takahiro self-praised, breathing in the earthen air.

A figure stood outside beside the house, hands folded patiently in front of a pristine uniform, posture straight but graceful. As they drew closer, something flickered across her features when seeing the sheer scale of faces.

Her eyes finally landed on Takahiro, who approached her with grandeur and a pleased grin, oblivious to her parting lips. Her hazel eyes flicked up and down, past the tattered coat, confirming he was whole.

“Rin,” he greeted. “Apologies for the prolonged wait. You may now set aside your worries, for you have been reimbursed with the presence of yours truly.”

“Lord Takahiro,” Rin greeted, voice even and measured, as she gave a practiced bow. “I am pleased to see you are well.” She straightened again, eyes going to the rest of the rangers who'd walked to the front. “All of you.”

Her gaze slid off them towards the villagers. Spending months with an aloof party member himself allowed Yakeru to see the dozens of questions behind Rin's carefully constructed stoicism.

“...I see you’ve brought guests,” she said instead, measuring his answer.

He followed her gaze as if noticing for the first time. He waved his hand lightly.

“Yes, yes, a small addition. Their home met a tragic end, you see. So it was only natural for the most generous to intervene.” He straightened, brushing invisible dust from his shoulder. “Heroically, of course.”

“Of course.” Rin’s eyes flicked to the soot-streaked faces. Then back to him. “...there are approximately seventy-six of them. Seventy-seven if you include the boisterous canine.”

Yakeru lifted a brow, impressed.

“Seventy—!” Takahiro caught himself, then recovered with a cleared throat. “Well, it’s like Mother and Father used to say: carry it through, not halfway.” He clapped his hands once, energized. “Now then! First priority: presentation. We mustn’t allow them to look like they have crawled out of a catastrophe. It reflects poorly on the Nandemo House.”

Rin didn’t react to that. Not outwardly.

“Your intention,” she said slowly to sober him, “is to house and bathe seventy-six villagers. Here.”

“Temporarily,” he added. “Until we arrange proper shelters. I’m not unreasonable.”

His fingers fidgeted in the way a child anxiously awaited their parent’s answer.

A beat. The kind of stretch reserved only for deep consideration. Her gaze held his for a moment, outwardly unmoved but still calculating.

“You have outdone yourself,” she finally said.

He puffed out his chest, proud. “Naturally.”

Yakeru resisted the urge to facepalm. ‘That’s not what she meant.’

Then she turned slightly, already shifting into motion. “The servants’ quarters will need to be reorganized. We will require additional water drawn, and the bathhouse prepared in rotations.”

She looked back at him, firm now. “And food.”

“Nourishment is implied.” Takahiro waved it off, brightening at her efficiency. “You are truly irreplaceable, Rin. Exceptional foresight.”

“I am aware, my lord.”

There was the faintest edge to it.

A child coughed somewhere in the group, and her expression softened—just a fraction—as she addressed them, voice carrying with quiet authority.

“Please, right this way. You are safe here.”

Risa stepped forward and looped her arm through Rin’s, conversing lightly about their travels and softening the sharp edges of her story to relax the servant.

She allowed it.