Rangers Endgame

A day of travel finally presented them with the gargantuan concrete walls of the Capital. While watching the scenery slide by, Yakeru saw villagers poking their heads out for a better look, faces beaming with wonder. When they passed through the gate—the guards stepping aside and bowing when recognizing the carriages’ designs—their eyes grew wider than he thought possible.

The crowd parted as they passed, Yakeru unconsciously leaning back behind the tarp to avoid eyes. As they rolled deeper into the city’s bowels, their carriage eventually peeled off from the rest—the convoy of refugees disappeared around a corner that led to a housing district.

Their carriage stopped in front of the guild, Takahiro rolling up behind them, and they all stepped out. The noble stood in front, hands on his hips.

“A well-deserved respite awaits, friends.”

Yakeru suddenly dreaded going inside with an over-the-top nobleman. Fuyumi braced herself as the noble slammed the doors open with grandeur, pausing the lively conversation that once circled the crowded lobby.

Everyone's eyes went to Takahiro as he strutted confidently through the parting rangers. Yakeru ignored the stares long enough for voices to pick back up around them.

The receptionist smoothed her uniform and straightened her posture further before they arrived at the front.

“Lord Takahiro, what an honor,” she addressed, wearing her best smile. “I assume your party has cleared the mission in the Frostmarrow Mountains?”

“That we are,” he answered.

“As expected of our sponsor.”

Takahiro's chest puffed, basking in the attention. As they relayed their report, the noble made sure to emphasize his contribution, but she kept stealing glances at Yakeru and Fuyumi in the latter half of it anyway.

“Well, I'm relieved to see that you all returned safely.” She slid their reward across the counter, and they divided it equally. “Thank you for dealing with the pack.”

As they moved away so the next in queue could step up, Takahiro reached into his breast pocket and discreetly passed out one platinum coin to each of them—he actually carried a handful of platinum on him.

“As promised,” he said. “Thank you for your assistance with the refugees.”

“Of course,” Risa responded, dropping her coin into her purse-like satchel.

“Anytime,” Yuto said as he did the same with his coin, glancing over his shoulder at his ruined shield on his back. “But now I’d like to shop for a new conduit.” He looked at Yakeru and Fuyumi, and dipped his head. “Well, I suppose this is it. Despite our shortcomings, it was a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Yakeru answered curtly, pocketing his coin.

Fuyumi gave her signature bare nod in response.

“A pleasure indeed,” Risa chimed, deliberately stepping up to Yakeru, emerald glinting coquettishly through long lashes. Her eyes flicked to Fuyumi with a suppressed smirk. Fuyumi narrowed her gaze on her, and she chuckled. “You’re so easy to tease.”

She stepped back, and Takahiro addressed him next.

“It would seem this chapter has come to a close. Adventuring with you has been quite the privilege.”

Yakeru extended a hand. “Is yours truly getting teary-eyed?”

He gripped his hand. “A Nandemo does not sully the House with such vulnerability.” He let go, then turned fully towards Fuyumi, demeanor changing completely. “And dearest Fuyumi. Fate shall surely orchestrate a second meeting, for it is destiny’s hand that has intertwined our paths the first time.”

She looked at him deadpan. “You have ten seconds.”

“For?”

Her hand gripped her dagger. “One.”

Takahiro stilled, then looked at Yakeru as if for confirmation. He casually shooed the noble away to save his life.

“Two.”

Takahiro chuckled nervously as he backed away towards the door. Risa and Yuto followed, waving back at Yakeru and Fuyumi as their joint party came to a close. With their silhouettes passing the threshold and disappearing on the other side, Fuyumi let her hand fall.

“That was the most patient I’ve seen you,” Yakeru mentioned, eyes glancing toward the bustling tables.

“After everything, that's what impresses you?” she asked.

“Coming from you, yes.”

The lobby had already slipped back into its usual noise after Takahiro's departure. The guild didn't offer anything else besides playful boasting and shoving shoulders, so the two started for the door.

“Yakeru! Fuyumi!” a familiar voice called out.

They turned to the source, past the drunks, to find their old friend waving at them and a man lifting a tankard in their direction, claymore leaning against the table. They made their way over, Yakeru catching a flailing arm belonging to a drunk along the way, and sat at Kenji’s table.

“Good to see you two again,” Itsuki grinned, relief leaking into his expression.

“Likewise,” Yakeru replied. “How’d your mission go?”

Kenji tilted his head up as he recalled. He recapped the details, Itsuki filling in the gaps with extra context. Apparently, they picked up a C-rank freelancer who was desperate for work. Though he pulled his own weight, Kenji’s specialty coupled with Itsuki’s A-rank status and experience made the mission a breeze. Afterwards, the ranger departed to go on a spending spree.

Kenji's eyes moved to the door where two more rangers walked in. “So… who was that guy in the expensive armor?”

“A reliable nuisance,” Fuyumi answered.

Itsuki let out an amused breath while shaking his head, then took another sip. “Seemed like a decent guy. Anyway, you've been gone longer than expected. How'd it go?” Itsuki mentioned, setting aside his drink.

“Well,” Yakeru answered curtly.

“Since it went so well, I take it you didn’t have to use the… item I lent you.” Itsuki alluded, gesturing to the young man's satchel with his eyes.

Yakeru went quiet as he sorted out what to say.

“Right?” Itsuki pressed, sensing his student's hesitation.

“...things got complicated.”

“How complicated?” he inquired. “What happened to it?”

Fuyumi suddenly found the chipped table fascinating, faint crimson touching her cheeks. Kenji and Itsuki shared a puzzled look.

With a resigned sigh, Yakeru explained how they ran into an alpha and were forced to use the Lazarus Fruit on himself after a narrow escape. Itsuki stole another glance at Fuyumi, who hadn't said anything about it. From his eyes, he knew a crucial detail was left out but chose to let it go.

Kenji didn't. “Then why—”

Fuyumi shot up, her chair nearly capsizing. “I should get home.”

She disappeared without another word.

Using their confusion, he dismissed himself, too. “I'd better get back myself before Akari starts to worry.”

Not waiting for a response, he made a quiet retreat.

The congested streets greeted him as he elbowed past pedestrians, ignoring shouted discounts meant to reel in patrons. The iron gates yawned over the threshold, and the world opened up again. The path led him into the country, the thought of catching a ride just now registering after traveling halfway. It was whatever.

Familiar homes arcing on grassy hills crawled into view. Children ran through the field neighboring his house, wielding sticks to slay invisible monsters. They paused to wave. Yakeru returned the gesture.

A woman threw laundry over a clothesline beside his home. She stopped mid-fold at his approach, a relieved breath leaving her lips.

“If it isn’t my troublesome little brother,” Akari greeted lightly, hand on her hip. “You’re late.”

“That’s promised.”

“That’s a bad habit.” She gestured inside. “There’s lunch if you haven’t had anything. I’ll join you when I'm done here.”

Stepping inside, he shed his scratched armor while sandwiches waited on the counter, simple baloney with steamed lettuce and melted cheese. Though a bit stale, the meal was like heaven on his tongue compared to the frozen bricks that somehow sustained him on that mountain.

Akari returned a few minutes later, taking a sandwich for herself as she leaned a hip against the counter, eyes flicking him up and down, more maternal than anything.

His story filtered through careful consideration as per usual, his habit of softening the edges still present even after she’d told him to be straight with her. Didn’t matter though because Akari inspected her brother anyway. Nonchalantly yanking up his shirt to find it bare, twisting his head in search of fresh marks, even plucking the makeshift hairband to find evidence of a damaged scalp.

It was more out of punishment for holding back details.

His face went deadpan through it all, sandwich frozen mid-bite.

Still, there wasn’t a scratch on him—well, no scratch that wasn’t already there.

“You actually managed to return in one piece. How’d you manage that?” she half-joked, stepping back to resume eating her lunch like she didn’t just dishevel him.

“With a miracle I forgot I had in my back pocket,” he answered, blowing a lock of hair out of his face.

She lifted a brow, the same kind of lift she did when she'd caught him. “So you did almost die.”

His eye twitched. This woman… Her gift for ambushing cracks in his stories annoyed him to no end.

He lazily tied his hair back again. “And you wonder why I never tell you anything.”

“I know why, but I'd still like to know the details in my brother's life.” She took another bite, crossing one ankle over the other, elbow resting in her hand. “Especially when it seemed like you two had quite an adventure.”

No response. He simply started washing the few dishes after finishing lunch.

Her gaze caught on a random corner of the kitchen, eyes widening slightly with something like realization, then hardening. “I'm sure Itsuki would've loved to experience such invigoration.”

His hands stilled, the air dropping to a familiar steady chill. Even in his periphery, Akari wore the same look she always did when gauging his reaction.

“He…” he trailed, unconsciously stepping away from the sink and her, silently scrambling for an explanation.

“Was absent,” she finished, more certain than questioning. “Because the only reason why you'd be forced to resort to this… miracle of yours is if he wasn't present.”

“It was my idea.” The desperate words fell out before he could stop them from throwing his neck on the line, too.

Her lips curled into a deathly calm smile, the air plummeting further at his stupid admission. “Oh, I'll find out who's at fault when I visit him for a long. Civilized. Chat.”

Another step back. A gulp. ‘Sorry, Itsuki. It seems your final days are upon you.’

A knock came from the door. Her cold fury persisted as if she didn’t hear it the first time. Then it came again, and her smile wavered as she acknowledged it with a glance. Putting her intensity on hold, she answered it. He joined her.

In the doorway stood two men, clad in capital-style armor that caught the afternoon sun as they turned to face them. A royal carriage—different from the Nandemo designs, more subtle but more refined—waited idle behind them.

Recognition flashed across their faces when they saw Yakeru, but didn’t let it dominate their features. Maybe they knew him from the Clan Skirmish?

“Akari and Yakeru?” one asked, but something in his rough voice told Yakeru it was more out of formality than a question.

“Yes,” he answered.

The two men slid their feet together and bowed, both respectfully and apologetically, with their hands over their breastplates.

“Apologies for the intrusion. We understand you’ve just returned from a mission, but the Council would like to inform you of an upcoming social event—a gala. They extend an invitation to all rangers.” He glanced at Akari. “And retirees.”

Her icy demeanor thawed completely, replaced with genuine curiosity, arms folding under her chest. “They’re inviting commoners?”

The word came with a hint of bitterness.

“Councilman Rei Yamato sets aside his animosity in exchange for your presence. Rest assured there are no ulterior motives, and wishes to compensate you with luxurious accommodations including fine dining—”

“Not interested,” Yakeru cut in flatly. “Why would we be interested in some stuffy gala?”

The man didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow. His partner spoke next.

“Forgive us, but the Council—not just him—was very insistent. This isn’t just a formal gathering; it’s an announcement. One that will alter how ranger parties and even clans are structured moving forward.”

Yakeru’s eyes met Akari’s briefly, then back at them.

“What kind of announcement?”

Sweat beaded the men’s foreheads. Not from a possibility of revealing too much, but from something more akin to… dread?

“We weren’t provided with details, but a recent Outer Rim expedition yielded something that demands the world’s attention.”