we all have a price

She’d meant well by giving Daiyu those coupons, even though part of her (or most of her, really) had figured that Daiyu would use them as bedding for her dog or just ignore them entirely. So the fact that her coupons were being very much put to use and so immediately too did surprise Madison. But that also meant that the two of them were going to hang out and, in the end, that was what she wanted most of all.

She eagerly waited outside her apartment for Daiyu to pick her up. She’d worn some sort of ‘super cool training montage worthy’ clothes, and she hoped Daiyu would notice. She’d even pulled her hair up exactly like she’d seen Daiyu do it one time, though maybe that was too much, and so Madison undid the hairstyle and pulled her hair back into a simple ponytail, much more like what she usually wore.

Bouncing on her feet, she spotted Daiyu coming down the street and didn’t even think to run into the middle of the street (she did have common sense, thank you very much). She just waved enthusiastically until Daiyu pulled over. “Hi!” She practically squeaked. “Thanks for getting me! Do I need anything else? If I do, I can go back up to my apartment real quick, but otherwise, we can just get going. Like…” she wanted to say cool kids, so badly, but Daiyu might not like that. Still, Madison couldn’t help herself. “Like cool kids.”

—

Being around Madison made Daiyu feel like her head was caving in. There was something so strange about a hunter her age, so enthusiastic and so naive about hunting. Something so horrible about the way she wanted this, but seemed hesitant to go through the training Daiyu had known. She reminded her of the soft kids at camp, except she was older and somehow even more naive.

Still, it was undeniable that this town was not one where she could simply close her eyes and avoid everything supernatural. And though Daiyu had caused plenty of death in her life, she did not want the girl to die. She’d feel something as stupid as responsibility, as if it was at all on her that this hunter had somehow been released into this town with the wild idea of becoming one when she was already past training age. So she drove towards her apartment, trying not to think about how endearing Madison’s coupons had been and wondering what her intent was today. To try and scare the girl off (so far unsuccessful) or to teach her something proper. She had brought a gun she wouldn’t mind separating with for her.

She turned down her music when Madison bounced up to the car, blinking at her as she rambled on. Daiyu respected yappers, but she was still impressed by the way Madison could make words just fall from her mouth. “No, I got everything we need. As long as you got your wallet for the burgers afterwards…” She grinned a little. “I wouldn’t know squat about cool kids. I never hung out with them.” Punched a few of them, though. “We’re off to Gatlin Fields. Can drive up to the woods after too, if you want multi terrain stuff.” She put her car in gear and drove off. “Figured we could do some shooting. Got coke bottles and stuff. No … practical stuff yet.” No bloodshed. She didn’t want to deal with Madison’s reaction to a dying beast again. “You got any beasts you wanna know about? Now is question time. Later is doing time.” She had practiced this, the things she would say. She hoped she sounded like she knew what she was doing. Her stomach felt tight.

—

Daiyu was so set in her ways. Madison admired that. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be as set in her beliefs as Daiyu seemed to be. But maybe, with time and with practice, she could figure something out. She had to. There wasn’t really a choice in the matter, and Daiyu’s confidence and steadfastness in all that she was did give Madison some hope. She kept quiet about just how much hope it gave her, because she didn’t want to annoy Daiyu with her hope and hard-won optimism. At least, not all at once.

“Okay, I’m glad you’ve got everything. That’s pretty much what I expected but it felt right to offer, and I’d – yeah.” She could stop talking excessively at any point. Not that she thought she was talking too much in excess. She’d known plenty of people who talked more than she did. She just talked more when she was comfortable around somebody and even though Daiyu made her nervous, Madison also could tell that she very much was comfortable around the other woman and that took away nearly all of her ability to restrict herself. Hence, the cool kids comment. “Oh yeah, me neither. I just think you’re cool.” Which was probably also not what she was supposed to say, for like, hunter rules or whatever, but she’d said it and right now she didn’t feel like she could take it back. That would feel far too much like being a liar, or some sort of cruel sneak, and even if she couldn’t be a good hunter, she didn’t want to be a cruel sneak of any sort.

“I do got my wallet for burgers after! I would not forget something as important as that!” She shook her head emphatically. Shooting. Well. That was something, and perhaps something that Madison should have expected to come across with Daiyu. “Coolio, yep! We’ll go up there and it won’t be practical but we’ll practice stuff.” She sighed. “Um. Well, I mean, I want to know about everything I can, but I don’t even know what to ask about, since I keep finding out that things are real – things I never even imagined could be. So… what’s your favorite beast?” It was extraordinary how much Daiyu knew what she was doing. It put Madison in a simultaneous state of wonder and of feeling wholly incompetent, all in one. But it was a more comfortable and hopeful incompetence than it usually would have been.

—

Madison was rambling and Daiyu let the words go in one ear and out the other. It would be wise to just focus on what was ahead of them, to pay attention to the conversation that seemed actually important. She didn’t want to run out of steam before they had come to the meat of their outing, after all. And for all the aforementioned reasons, Madison did have the capability to suck up all her socializing skills quite swiftly. It was a shitty thought, she knew that, but she had to let some things be water off a duck’s back, lest she started saying things about Madison having to leave town and forget about hunting forever in a non-productive way.

But then Madison called her cool and she looked up, bemused. “You do, do ya?” She felt strange by that assessment. She had not been particularly nice to Madison, after all. She tried to see herself through the other’s eyes and saw only a grumpy, short hunter with an even shorter fuse and crude ways of pointing out the horrors of hunting. Maybe the fact that Madison thought her cool and not an absolute bitch was a bit of proof that she might have some of what it took to do what a hunter did. But she wasn’t sure. She just chalked the assessment up to the other’s naiveté. “Burgers … now those are cool.”

She knew that Madison was a little hesitant about firearms. They’d practiced with the bow and arrow before, and though those were very cool (without any doubt or overthinking), they were unpractical. A ranged weapon you could conceal easily was crucial, if you asked Daiyu. If Madison was going to protect herself from things like bugbears without control, she needed something small on hand. “Just good to know how to handle a gun, ya know? Most of the time you don’t even have to use it.” That was something she had heard someone say in a TV show, once, and it had been about threatening humans. In the case of beasts and shifters it wasn’t entirely true. At the question, she was quiet for a while, thinking it over. “Ovinniks. These fiery – literally – big, black cats. They’re not that much of a threat when treated well.” They were cool.

—

She could tell that she was a bit too much for Daiyu, sometimes. Perhaps all of the time, if she really wanted to feel down about herself. But Daiyu hadn’t been obligated to like, use the coupons Madison had given her, and yet she did, which meant that she couldn’t always be too much for her. That bit of hope, she held onto, fast and steady. Like a life preserver, in a way, because she needed people who were like her to like her and there was something particular about Daiyu that made her want that all the more. Which wasn’t necessarily healthy, but it was the truth and that was something that she had to acknowledge.

“I do, yes!” Overeager again, but Daiyu didn’t seem overly frustrated about it. Though Madison very much believed that Daiyu was very good at putting on a mask and only showing what she wanted to show. Which meant that maybe she was frustrated, but the two of them were still out here going to shoot things which was not her idea of a cool way to spend an afternoon, but that didn’t matter, not really. She was set on not actually having to shoot anything at all. She’d worm her way out of it. Hopefully. So she took in a steady breath and focused on the road in front of them.

“Two things can be true.” She held her hands carefully in her lap, her knees only bouncing occasionally. “I’m glad to hear that!” She said, squeaking, more than perhaps a little bit louder than she had intended. “Oh those sound cool!! Do you know where I could meet one? Or is it just – uh – like, by chance or stuff or maybe I’m not ready yet?” Her words continued to spill out of her mouth in the most undignified fashion. “Do they live around here?”

—

The urge to grab Madison by her shoulders, shake her a little, look her in the eye and tell her to run from what she had decided was her duty still lived within her. Conflict ran rampant through her, the urge directly feeding into who she had been almost a decade ago, when she had tried to run from hunting. She had ran right back to it and now here she was, with a young hunter in the passenger seat who was too soft for it all, and yet wasn’t running herself. Daiyu did not want to confront that part of herself any more, but it was right there in the car with them.

Besides, maybe there was no running for Madison any more. Maybe all she needed was to be taught some defense so she would be better prepared for the next time she faced a bugbear. Maybe there was no running from the hunt, but if Daiyu could make sure she would not be running towards it … that would be enough. She turned up the volume of her music, twisting at the knob and letting the music drown out some of the conversation but mostly her thoughts.

“Some farmers have them. I know of at least one in the fields,” she said, “They’re … kinda like pets. Not really domesticated but you know. Civil enough.” Daiyu took a sharp turn, Gatlin Fields showing up ahead. They had just a little bit of the drive left, the further away from town the better. Though loud bangs and other strange sounds were not uncommon in town, she figured that was for the best. She hit the gas, car rumbling beneath her. It calmed something she did not want to name within her.

—

She had half a mind to ask Daiyu if all hunters were technically basically sort of related. So if, somehow, Daiyu was sort of actually her older sister. But that might freak Daiyu out and the two of them weren’t so similar, outside of the genes or whatever it was that made them hunters. Daiyu was much braver than she was, much more fierce and strong and ready to take on the world. Madison wanted to be that, but she wasn’t sure exactly how that would figure itself out. She knew it would, but she didn’t know exactly when or how.

She couldn’t overwhelm Daiyu, and there was part of her (no matter how much she might have tried to hide or deny it, even to herself) that was aware of how much and how easily she could overwhelm the other woman. So she sat and focused on everything she could and soaked in the fact that she was hanging out with one of the coolest people she’d ever known (though of course she wouldn’t tell Marielle that – she didn’t want Marielle to feel sad or like Madison didn’t care about her, because she did – of course she did) and that even if she didn’t love the idea of firing a gun, she’d still take any time she had with Daiyu and soak up any lessons she could. She’d be a sponge – which was an analogy that she’d taken some trouble with as a child because sponges did an excellent job soaking up things – but then people often squeezed them out, and Madison didn’t want to be wrung out to dry, deprived of everything she had learned.

“Like pets?!” Madison exclaimed. “But – you know what, I – we can talk about that another time.” It was something else new and something else unexpected – but in a way that made her whole body feel warm with excitement. Daiyu probably didn’t want her thinking that way, so she’d find a way to bring it up when they weren’t trying to go and shoot things. The car rumbled on for a while and Madison stared out the window, hand pressed against the glass. Soon enough (though she didn’t know exactly how long it had been) the car pulled to a stop and she looked over at the other woman. “Are – we’re here now, yeah?” She grinned. “Let’s do this, right?” She cleared her throat. “I mean – uh. Right! With an exclamation mark at the end for positive emphasis, even!”

—

“Yes,” Daiyu confirmed, “Like pets. But more like a feral barn cat than a cozy tomcat, you know? There are some creatures that are more … pet like, I guess. Still can be dangerous, but a ton of normal creatures can too.” There was a lot to talk to Madison about. Ovinniks was one of the easier subjects, even if they could be plenty lethal to livestock and light whole barns on fire. Better those than the worms that could swallow people whole or werewolves that tore apart a group of boy scouts as if they were a bag of chips. 

Madison seemed to enjoy the drive in the way Daiyu used to as a child: staring at the road outside, letting the world pass one by. She wasn’t often a passenger any more, but she recalled how she could get lost in introspection there. She didn’t try to think of it too much, nor of the Madison of it all in general. It was too confusing, to really delve into the situation the other was in, or what her own role in it all was. Today it was simple enough. She was going to teach Madison how to shoot. It was something she could keep contained in her mind, something that could exist without all the other implications that came with trying to prepare a young adult for a hunter’s life when they had an opportunity to feign ignorance.

When they pulled up and Madison spoke in questions rather than determination, she felt something heavy sink in her stomach. Daiyu closed her eyes too long for it to be a normal blink. “Let’s do this,” she said, and she did not sound like she was adding positive emphasis onto that at all. She turned off her car, got out and swung open the back door. She pulled out a duffel bag that clinked with movement, as well as a holstered gun. It was as fitting a gift as she could think of for Madison, who had given her a rather thoughtful gift. As if there was any gratitude to be had here. “Alright, this field we can do whatever in. I helped out the farmer who owns it once. Figure we use the fence to put up some bottles?” She extended the holster with the glock to Madison. “These are for you. Goes on your waist.” She opened the bag, staring down the bottles. “Don’t do anything with it. Just … hold it. Feel the weight, or whatever. I’ll go set up, yeah?”

—

“Okay. That makes sense.” It did, surprisingly enough. Perhaps only surprising because so much still didn’t make sense to her, and so there was a certain intense sense of relief that came along with something making any sort of sense at all. Madison looked over to Daiyu for a moment, before she cast her gaze back over to the window.

Soon enough, they’d arrived and Daiyu didn’t seem terribly enthused, but Madison had to remind herself that Daiyu wasn’t exactly an overly bubbly and enthusiastic person on any day. So it wasn’t something she should take too much to heart. Daiyu was here with her and that was all that really mattered.

She didn’t want to take the gun, worried somehow that it would go off if she even looked at it wrong. She hadn’t thought that being a hunter had to come along with guns – even though, of course, other human hunters used them all the time. But it wasn’t something she herself was comfortable with much at all. Still, she did take the gun and held it like it was made of glass, like it was something that could break if she didn’t take good care of it. Daiyu gave it to her, which also meant that it felt especially fragile because of the intensity with which she admired the other woman.

Madison wrapped the holster around her waist, doing just as Daiyu had asked. Feel the weight, feel that it felt uncomfortably okay. Almost natural – and she didn’t like that. Knives were one thing, but she’d always been anti-gun, so to have a gun holster feel even a little bit okay felt stomach twisting terrible. She gulped and nodded. “That’s cool - that you helped someone and then they let you use their space.” Another sigh, “yeah, we can do bottles – I – I’ll try. Just tell me when to go.” She could feel her hand shaking and used her opposite hand to grab onto the wrist whose hand held the gun, doing her best to make herself stop shaking. 

—

Firearms had been one of the first Daiyu had been entrusted with. Weapons that could be shot from a distance were better in the hands of a kid than a knife, her father had figured — there was no brawling possible between a large beast and a preteen, but a preteen could shoot a bullet into that same beast without risking their life. Target practice had looked a bit like this too. Bottles and cans, and then half-dead creatures, flying disks, actual birds. She had been excited, the first time she’d been entrusted with a pistol. She left Madison with the weight of the gun without any words, chewing on memories of childhood. Her dad had made her reload the pistol over and over again until her fingers felt like sticks that would break if she moved them. Not to no avail, though. She was a good fucking shot even today.

At the fence, she placed bottles down. She’d gotten most of them from Killian, who still seemed down to offer her favors even if she sometimes struggled to look at him. It was she who should owe him favors, after all, considering the way she’d nearly died in his parking lot. Daiyu grit her teeth, trying to ground the nostalgia out of her system.

Once she’d put plenty down, she returned to Madison. She looked the other over and found herself hit with those useless emotions once more. She was young, truly. Teetering on the edge of adulthood. When Daiyu was around that age, she had murdered Tabitha Shaw. Before she had turned twenty two, she had already attempted to turn her back on hunting. Madison looked like she had never handled a gun. She had been incapable of killing that werewolf. She should not be here.

“You good?” She wasn’t sure what to do with the answer to that question. “I can show you how to shoot it now. And yeah no, there’s none of those glasses and earmuffs people wear — you don’t have time for that in the real world either. We’re far enough.” And she didn’t expect Madison to hit any shots, anyway. Maybe on accident. “How’s it feel?”

—

Back home, plenty of people owned guns. It was just a fact of life – her family didn’t own any, but she wondered if the family she was supposed to (supposedly) go home with from the hospital had any, on account of being southern and also hunters. She wondered if she’d ever get the answer to that. She hoped so, but she was also more than happy with the family who she had gone home with from the hospital, even if she’d felt a bit like an intruder upon realizing that she’d gotten into their family by accident. Though not maliciously so, she had to remind herself. It was an accident and they were her real family even if their biologies were significantly different. That didn’t make them any less superhero-like though, she absolutely saw her parents and all her siblings as superheroes. They just weren’t actually born to fight things that most people (them included) didn’t believe in.

Madison watched as Daiyu set the bottles up, as she observed them, and as she made her way back over to where Madison was still standing. She watched Daiyu watch her and she couldn’t tell if it was with disgust or something else. Part of her wanted to believe that she saw care and even a certain sense of protectiveness in the way that Daiyu looked at her. But she might have just been imagining things, putting her desires into what she saw.

“Oh, yeah, I’m chill.” Madison nodded, drawing out the words a bit more than anyone reasonably should have. “Sorry – I – yes, I’m good.” She said, half lying. She was good because Daiyu was here and that meant she was safe, but she was still more than a little bit of a nervous wreck about all of this. “Yes, you can show me now.” She held up the gun, still holding it like it was hot, or like it could explode in her hands. “It feels,” she tensed up, deciding to go with at least some version of the truth. “Weird. A bit scary.” She looked down at the ground, her cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. “But you – if you want to, we can go for it.”

—

Being around Madison triggered an envy and anger all at once. She did not understand the girl, who was so enthusiastically driven to be a hunter but stood there drawing out words like she suddenly forgot how to talk as fast as she usually did when asked about the pistol in her hands. Daiyu wanted her to turn away from this or to at least show some spine. It was clear she was not comfortable with the gun, and though she was of the opinion that Madison needed to learn how to shoot one in order to defend herself, she didn’t want to be like her father. Enforcing her opinion through someone else’s discomfort. 

She stood there for a moment, grappling with the word scary as she tried to find the right thing to say. This wasn’t scary. This was shooting cans in a field — it was as close to leisure as hunting got, rather than the real scary stuff. She wasn’t putting Madison in a room with a bugbear, making her literally fight through fear and cull a beast thrice her size. She was not with her in the woods, running for their lives. She was giving her a gun.

Daiyu did not want to be her father. She watched Madison handle the gun and shook her head. “This shit is not about what I want. This is about what you want. You want to train to be a hunter, so you have to have something to defend yourself. A knife isn’t enough. Some beasts have claws larger and sharper than five knives — you need to be able to defend from a distance. You want this, or not? That’s what you gotta decide. You didn’t want to kill the wolf. You don’t want to shoot the gun. But you want to be a hunter.” She took her hands, readjusting her fingers so she was holding the gun right. “Doesn’t matter what I want.”

—

“It does matter what you want.” Madison replied, frowning at the other hunter. “I mean, why wouldn’t it? Your opinion matters just as much as anybody else’s.” Even more than some others’ opinions, at least to Madison. She wouldn’t say that right now but it was true on what was frankly an exceptional level. Or perhaps it wasn’t exceptional. Madison liked Daiyu, and Madison thought that people she liked deserved good things and that their thoughts mattered. It was how her parents had raised her and her siblings. Whatever they thought mattered, full stop, even if it wasn’t the most popular opinion in the room.

Usually, of course, the Perez family tended to agree on the same things (best ice cream, where they should go hiking, which foot you put socks on first (left, obviously) – but even if they didn’t, there was never a sense of shame that came along with disagreeing. So Madison extended that feeling to those who felt like family (not that she could easily say that to Daiyu’s face, mostly because she didn’t know if that would make the other angry). Though, Madison had noticed, she was already doing something of a spectacular job of pushing Daiyu in the way of anger and frustration.

So Madison looked at Daiyu, looked at the way she held the gun, and took in a deep breath before attempting to imitate it. “Like this?” She looked back over to her companion, and then back down to the gun. She didn’t like that it felt partially natural in her hands. “It’s… not as heavy as I expected it to be.”

—

“Not in this situation,” she muttered, “This is about you, wanting to be a hunter. But sure, Madison, fuck — I want you to be able to defend yourself, yeah? Not pick fights, you’re too green for that, but have something that can put a distance between you and danger.” What she wanted, was for Madison to stop being so visibly weak. To not tremble at a gun and make Daiyu face the reality that for some people, these kinds of weapons were not extensions of their body that they’d known since before they had gotten their first period. 

She did not want Madison to extend some kind of sentiment that her wants and needs mattered. There was a part of Daiyu that agreed — that part that had turned her back on her family and tried to find a better life for herself. But right now, she wasn’t going to push her wants and needs onto Madison too hard. She had no interest in training hunters, even if she was here now, getting pretty close to doing just that.

“Sure, like that. Don’t put your finger on the trigger just yet.” She took a step away from Madison, letting go of her hands. “Switch off the safety now. Breathe out. Aim and then rest your finger on the trigger.” She barely even thought of shooting a gun like these. All these steps, all these small motions. It truly was an extension of who she was, more than a knife ever could be. She looked at Madison, then at how she was holding the gun. “Then shoot.”

—

Daiyu didn’t seem like the person who outwardly cared – or visibly did so. Madison wondered if that was a byproduct of being a hunter. It wasn’t a pleasant one to think about, but she was certain that there had to be hunters who did outwardly care. Marielle certainly seemed to. But Daiyu was here and Daiyu was the same sort of hunter that Madison was, and that was what mattered most. She knew that she shouldn’t expect it from everyone. It wasn’t like Daiyu had been shy about being a bit rougher around the edges. It was part of what had made Madison think she was as cool as she was, and she couldn’t fault Daiyu for something that had practically entranced her, now could she? “Yeah.” She responded. “It’s good for me to be able to put distance between things.” How often was that the case, she wondered? How often did people like her and Daiyu have to kill things from a distance? She was aware enough that she knew she couldn’t ask that right now, but it clung to the back of her mind, stuck there, turning around and around.

She was also aware that Daiyu hadn’t acknowledged her comment about it mattering what they wanted. She passed it off for now as just something the other didn’t want to focus on, because they were training. Madison knew, however, that she’d be over analyzing that particular way of thinking for hours when she got home later.

Daiyu let go of her and everything shot to the forefront of her mind, everything became suddenly (and somewhat aggressively) more real. She took a deep breath, finger on the trigger, nearly shaking. Another deep breath, because she had to steady herself. It would be worse for everyone involved if she kept shaking. “Okay.” She said, though she didn’t know if Daiyu could even hear it. She pressed her finger on the trigger and heard a shot, tensing up until it seemed to hit something.

—

“Distance keeps you alive,” she said, and it was perhaps the truest lesson she could give Madison. Her mind traveled to Emilio, trying to face a bies head on and how enthralled he’d become, nearly impaling himself on those antlers. (Maybe he should have, she thought — then at least he wouldn’t have found his way to her cabin with Talia.) She then thought of Madison facing a bugbear, of her sixteen year old self facing a werewolf. Daiyu knew there were situations where there was no option for distance, but she figured that Madison could run if that was the case. 

She watched Madison, the gun in her hand looking all wrong. But she wanted this, didn’t she? It wasn’t like Daiyu was forcing her to do anything. The thing she wanted to force her to do was to throw herself in her stupid college studies and become a good soccer player who used her biological advantages to make it far. But here they were.

The shot rang through the air, as familiar as the music her dad had liked to play at home. Daiyu watched the bullet fly, hitting the fence. She looked at Madison then, “Go again. After the recoil, when it clicks, you can shoot again. Just keep going until there’s no more ammo.” She had to get familiar with the shock of it in her hand, with the sound near her ears, with the way she had to keep her body steady through it all. “Try to aim for a can, but you know, just shoot.” For plenty of foes, warning shots were enough. And Madison seemed the type to just warn, and not kill.

—

“Okay.” She said. It was an easy response, almost instinctual in the way that she found herself replying. Even though it didn’t make complete sense to her. Even though she still had more questions. But Daiyu was here, helping her, and so Madison wasn’t about to look a good thing in… whatever the saying was. She was here to learn and there seemed almost nobody better to learn from than Daiyu. She wanted to ask about what if there was no way to keep distance, what if something popped up like some jack in the box and went at her right away? She could run, then, she figured. She’d beaten plenty of people in races back in elementary school, long before she knew what she was. So she’d run, if need be. You could always run, but you probably couldn’t always punch.

The gun didn’t feel any lighter, the longer she held it. If anything, it almost felt heavier. Felt weird and misshapen even though it looked like it fit perfectly into her hand.

Back home, she’d had a friend whose dad hunted. Hunted hunted, not save-the-world hunted like she was trying to do. She remembered being maybe ten and her friend showing her the guns that their father kept around. It had almost made Madison sick, and she’d called Brooklyn to come pick her up after that, even though Brooklyn was in college. “I’ll shoot.” She said, her voice increasingly unsteady despite her many attempts to steady it. Then, again. “I’ll shoot.” This time, she managed to keep her voice steady for at least the duration of the phrase. So she pulled the trigger again and shot again, still closing her eyes after the shot rang out. “How many rounds and stuff are in these?” She looked over to Daiyu. “Is there a standard?”

—

There had been times where she had been young, when her voice had trembled like this. Where she had not wanted to do any of the things she was asked to do. Daiyu had been glad to have been given a gun, but she had not been glad to wield it against a living creature. To cull something defenseless, because that’s where the hunt started in her family. Something defenseless, so you can steel yourself against the cold bite of murder. She had argued and whined and cried, but she had always done it — there was no choice, under the gaze of her father.

Madison had a choice. Daiyu was not making her do anything, was she? She shot, because she said she would, and she closed her eyes. She did not keep shooting as Daiyu had instructed and she had half the mind to tell her to shut the fuck up. She didn’t want to force her to do anything. She was not her father, glaring and cruel in his teachings. She wasn’t even her uncle, who had had a softer hand, but had still made her do the things her childlike spirit hadn’t wanted to. 

“Jesus, Madison,” she muttered, trying to get ahold of herself, “Either you shoot and count until the magazine is empty, or you call it quits. I’m not the one making you do this.” Maybe if she said it out loud, it would feel true? The theory remained disproven thus far, though. “Just — stop talking and do it, or stop altogether.” Daiyu didn’t want any children of her own, that decision had been made decades ago. She wanted Madison to be able to defend herself, but she did not want to wrestle with her rage every time the girl closed her eyes after shooting her gun. She did not want this responsibility, but she didn’t want the one of Madison’s corpse either. So when she spoke again, she sounded more strict: “Just shoot.”

—

She shouldn’t have flinched at the harshness of Daiyu’s tone, but it was hard not to. She still needed training, she knew that, and Madison also knew just how jumpy of a person she was. She hadn’t thought of herself as someone who was especially jumpy, and it wasn't even like she always jumped during horror movies either, but there was something about a harsher tone of voice coming from someone she admired that made her feel like she was going to lose her skin in some sort of horrible way that extended beyond just being jumpy. It would figure that in a place like this, a place with things and people Madison hadn’t even been aware existed up until a couple years ago, would have ways of making her anxiety manifest in strange new ways.

“But – I – I know.” She said, her voice feeling thick, like there was too much of her grandmother’s pea soup. She’d enjoyed that plenty, but it wasn’t something anyone could call delicate, it wasn’t smooth and easygoing. Neither was she. She wasn’t cool and chill, no matter how much she tried to be. It wasn’t like Daiyu seemed especially chill, but the other hunter was without a doubt far more chill than Madison could ever hope to be.

Just shoot.

Her fingers curved around the trigger and she pulled it again, keeping her eyes open this time, watching as the bullet went just to the left of one of the cans. “I – I can’t do this any more. I’m – I’m sorry.” Madison didn’t let go of the gun, if anything she held onto it tighter than before, but her arm fell to the side of her body. “I’m – I’m done for today.” She figured Daiyu would be annoyed with her, or disappointed, or some terrible mixture of both. “Maybe another time. We can try some other time.” Maybe if she said it enough, it would feel more probable. She knew all about probability, at least in theory.

—

Madison was like a nervous dog, following her command despite the fact that her body language was betraying her by revealing that she did not want to do this. Daiyu hated the effect the harshness of her voice had. She was used to people fighting her when she spoke like this, for meeting her halfway and barking right back at her, or pointing out she was out of line. But Madison had put herself in a position where she looked at Daiyu for guidance and mentorship, without checking if Daiyu was the right person. She fount she resented her for that.

But then, Madison hadn’t made her drive out here and made Daiyu give her a gun. That was something she had decided to do all by herself, and here she was, reaping the consequences of her actions. Her jaw ticked. This was shooting cans and bottles, it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal — but for a regular human who had never handled a firearm and never killed a thing in her life, maybe it was. 

Madison gave up. As if the cans and bottles had feelings, or shooting the gun meant more than just shooting it. Daiyu was glad that there was a level of decisiveness at least. “Only have yourself to apologize to,” she said, voice curt. The next time Madison was faced with a wild beast and was afraid to shoot the gun Daiyu had given her, that was on no one but herself. (But then why did it feel like it was on Daiyu, too, for not pushing her hard enough to be able to defend herself? Should she not be unrelenting, so Madison understood the weight of a weapon and the role of a hunter?) “Turn the safety back on. Put it in your holster. I’ll go get the cans and we can fuck on off out of here.” She started stomping away, frustrated with the existence of innocence, something she usually thought non-existent.

—

Daiyu wasn’t usually harsh, at least not to her. But if that was what it took, then she’d accept it. Madison had had soccer coaches who were more harsh than others and both of them got results. Her favorites had always been the softer types, but she couldn’t pick who her mentor would be, and Marielle was plenty soft to cover for any lack of softness Daiyu held. She’d been drawn to Daiyu in part because of her personality. She might have been Madison’s opposite in many ways, but they’d seemed to click. Or so she had thought. Right now, she was doubting that with every fiber in her body.

“Okay.” She said, her voice smaller than even before. “I know.” She would spend the rest of the night apologizing to Daiyu though, even if not directly to the other hunter. Internally. Madison knew that she’d be up late thinking about that, and that there really was nobody to blame other than herself. “I’ll do all of that,” she said, doing just as she was told as Daiyu stomped away. The forest felt oppressively quiet, then, even despite the steady crunch of ground and leaves under Daiyu’s tread. She deserved this, she knew. She deserved every ounce of it, and Madison also knew that she’d keep trying to please Daiyu, to do whatever it was that she could do to make sure she stayed on the hunter’s good side.

Talking to Wyatt was something she should have done sooner. She should have come face to face with him after what Talia had done, but she had been afraid to. The fear was not something she admitted to, but deep down that was what it was — a fear of looking one of her friends in the eye and knowing that she could no longer trust him. Wyatt’s heart was large and as long as it had space for her would-be-killer (no matter the circumstance), she couldn’t stand it. So she had put up her walls and turned her back and figured that it was for the best. 

And yet she had thought it wise to meddle in his life. To not only drag Maggie from her would be place of death, but take up her offer. She’d gotten rid of an evil in his life, but it had clearly been the wrong decision. So she was dragging her feet up the familiar path to his house, where she had not been for months. She could only hope Owen wasn’t there, teeth grinding against each other. She went the way she always did, through the back, knocking on the glass with hesitation. Daiyu did not like feeling like she owed people something and today, she wanted to figure out what she exactly owed Wyatt, and how to make up for it.

—

There weren’t many positives about the situation Wyatt currently found himself in, but if he really dug deep he could appreciate the fact that Gene, so far, hadn’t been outright abusive. No more than any of the handlers were, anyway, with their cattle prods and tranquilizer guns. Both of which were meant to be used on the beasts he fought to curb their dangerous behaviors, but there wasn’t anyone regulating their use. Even Agnes had used the prod on Wyatt a few times in the past, like when he tried to refuse to fight his friend, Samir. Fat lot of good that had done him; the tool was effective, proven by the fact that Samir was now dead. And so the handlers kept using it, and Gene kept finding delightful new ways to ‘put Wyatt in his place’. As if he wasn’t already distinctly aware of his position. 

Anyway, it wasn’t anything outrageous, considering where the bar currently rested. He’d been shocked before, he’d been caged before, and he’d certainly been belittled before… so it didn’t matter. But the worst part of it by a longshot was the measly share of winnings he was permitted to bring home with him after each fight. When you had someone who had been undefeated for so long, you had to come up with more creative types of bets — so it wasn’t like the money was lacking. But where Gene had previously only been skimming off the top (and being very careful not to take any of Agnes’ share), now it all went directly to him. He had his own share, and he could retain however much he wanted of Wyatt’s for any bullshit thing he decided had resulted in a ‘fee’. Again, there was no one regulating these things, mostly because there wasn’t a need for it… but Gene hated him. Obviously. And it was less that the fae wanted to see Wyatt destitute and more that he wanted Wyatt to have to come to him begging for more money, because that would incur favors, which were his actual preferred currency. 

So far, Wyatt hadn’t sunk that low. He was trying to find other creative ways to make a little scratch on the side while not alerting anyone to the current state of affairs, generally embarrassed by the grip Gene had on his balls. Symbolically. It felt very much like when his cousin Marcel had been taking advantage of his naive trust for damn near a decade, keeping Wyatt in the dark about how much money he was actually raking in. Only this time he knew it was happening, and he wasn’t sure which was worse. 

His arms and legs ached, worn out now that he was being used as an oversized pack mule for the Pit’s expansion project: between his size while shifted, self-awareness, and opposable thumbs, he was much more useful than most of the other shifters on staff ended up being, which was just great, wasn’t it? Gene was taking advantage of this — well, actually, it was Corinna who was suggesting he lend a hand, Gene was just the one rudely enforcing her ideas. Wyatt had been bit, clawed, and otherwise injured by more beasts this past week than he cared to fucking count, and his body was over it. Never mind the fights he had scheduled this upcoming weekend… well. In the few hours he was allowed some free time at home, he had little energy for things he enjoyed. All he could think about was how to make more money to close the gap between his bills and what Gene was letting him take home, which was proving difficult. Currently, he was sat on his couch with his trumpet in hand, cleaning the damn thing while trying to imagine himself playing it on some street corner for tips, finding the whole idea unpleasant and, frankly, just about the last thing he wanted to do. 

The tap on glass was a surprise, and the shifter quickly glanced away from the task at hand to look toward the deck where the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows afforded him a gorgeous view of Darkling Lake… only to see Daiyu standing there. His breath caught in his throat. She wasn't exactly the first person he expected to show up unannounced, especially these days. She'd all but told him to fuck off, severing their friendship and then blocking his number. And then… there was the Agnes of it all.

She'd been doing Maggie a favor. And both of them, though they lacked the understanding of how fae magic worked to properly appreciate the bind he was in, their hearts had been in the right place. Maggie’s perspective he of course understood. He would have done the same for her in a heartbeat. But Daiyu was a more difficult nut to crack. It wasn't that he never would have expected something like this from her… at least not before everything that happened with Talia. But now, he had to wonder why she had agreed to help. Besides that, she was a hunter. Not a warden, sure, but still. Shouldn't she have known about the volatile nature of fae magic? Even Owen had seen the importance in not meddling. 

Boy had she fucking meddled. 

He sat there for a moment longer before shoving to his feet, setting the trumpet down on the coffee table and moving across the room toward the sliding glass door that stood between them. Slowly, he pulled it open. There was a pregnant pause between them before he broke the silence, his voice taught with emotion. “What you want?" 

— 

Killing had its consequences. Was that not what hunting was based on, anyway? Killing with consequence, but the right one. Eliminating a threat to humanity, and that consequence then being that they were better off for it. There were the other, more familiar consequences. Packs that were split up through murder, grieving beasts that wanted a place to put their anger, leaving people behind with the question of where their loved one had gone. Those were the consequences Daiyu was most familiar with. The risk and the reward.

Not this. It wasn’t often that the beasts she went after had influence on her personal life, because she kept a separating line between herself and her bounties. But Agnes had been different and not just because she had been fae. She’d been a freebie, a favor she hadn’t spoken out loud to the recipient (maybe she should have), maybe even a way to ferociously have the back of a friend she’d already betrayed. The consequences would not just come in the form of potential vengeance (again) or a(nother) target painted on her back, but they might and most certainly already had affected the person she’d been trying to do this for.

She looked at Wyatt and his trumpet and felt a strange kind of nostalgia for the ease their friendship had once offered. She could count on one hand the people she’d spoken to about her childhood, albeit sparingly, and Wyatt had been among them. He’d been her once-target, then-friend and now … well, she wasn’t quite sure, because she hadn’t been talking to him. She had not been letting him talk to her. It was about time to change that now, she knew.

When he opened the door, she noted his scent. Daiyu knew people’s smells, because her nose was too strong for her not to. She hadn’t forgotten the way Wyatt smelled, every note reminding her of what she’d closed the door on (and then potentially beat through).

“Talk,” she said, and her voice came out cracked. She cleared her throat. “To talk. Figure I — owe you.” Owing things, that was what Daiyu was no good at. She wanted people to owe her. She wanted nothing to do with others, maybe. She wanted to do right by Wyatt, because as she’d gotten rid of Agnes’ body all she’d wondered was what Owen’s expression and words had meant.

She hadn’t done her due diligence, that she knew by now. That was the thing though — she didn’t do that often, when she went after people. She saw a hit, a sum of money connected to it, and that was that. No need to figure out if they really deserved it, if there were possible ramifications for herself or those around it. But this had been a different hunt and she should have. She should have texted Owen sooner than she had. She should have asked Eve more about fae bindings and what effect death had on them. She should have talked to Wyatt. 

But when Maggie had uttered her need to see someone who hurt Wyatt dead, she had seen an easy fix. Something simple that she could do to help the friend she’d hurt. She had needed something like what Maggie had offered, some form of salvation through possibly the one thing she was good at — lethal violence. Had she been such a fool, to think that anything in this knotted mess of relationships could be easy?

She looked at her feet for a moment, then back up at Wyatt. “Can I come in?” 

—

He wanted to be angry. He wished he could be furious with her, because that would be easier. It was a familiar feeling, but he wasn’t so lucky that it was ever a pure experience. His anger was always ensnared by something else, something hurtful and piteous. When he fought with Owen, there was always an undercurrent of aching, because he lamented the fact that this was just how their relationship had to be. When he butted heads with Gene, or even Agnes, there’d been a sense of desperation and fear. The rage that encouraged him to attack Eve hadn’t even been absolute, tainted by the sorrow of a friendship ruined. And that was how he felt now: Daiyu had been trying to help. She was stupid and reckless about it (kettle, meet pot), but how could he distill his emotions down into one simple, easily-articulated reaction? It was impossible for him. So, with the hunter standing in front of him and asking to talk, saying that she owed him, he felt his sharp edges growing dull. He tried to hang onto it; to that fury that would drive her away and hopefully ensure she never tried to inject herself into his life again, but… god, he wasn’t built for that. He couldn’t hold a grudge against people he cared about, not forever. Especially not when they were the ones to extend the olive branch.

A strong breeze kicked up some dead leaves, victims of the heat wave they’d been experiencing, sending them skittering across the deck behind Daiyu. Wyatt watched them bounce along with a narrow, focused expression. Her request sat heavy in his chest. If he invited her in, was that admitting defeat? Did he care? 

He glanced back at her just as she was flicking her gaze up to his face, and he saw something in her eyes that made him feel as brittle as the dried up foliage that was now sliding off the edge of the other side of the deck to go dance in the grass. 

Speaking it aloud felt too intimate, so the lamia just stepped aside to permit Daiyu access to his home. He was glad in that moment that Owen wasn’t here, knowing that his reaction would quickly escalate the situation into something that Wyatt was just too fucking tired to deal with right now. He slid the door closed behind Daiyu, eyeing his instrument on the coffee table and cringing inwardly. He hoped she didn’t ask about it. 

Another silence hung between them, strained like a thread being pulled taught. He wondered how much force would be needed to make it snap. He didn’t know what to say, so he just waited for her to speak first, keeping his head down. He didn’t want her to see the weakness he knew must exist in his expression. First, he wanted to hear her appeal.

—

Wyatt didn’t say anything. Daiyu hated a silent treatment, which had been a common tactic used at home. Though on one hand she was afraid to hear what Wyatt had to say (as she had been with her siblings or her father), she would prefer it over these glances and movements that said plenty even if she wasn’t sure what. Wyatt was letting her in, which was one thing. He closed it behind her and she wanted him to just say something.

Just like dragging her feet, she hated starting a big serious talk. She was better at this when she was reactionary. When someone snapped at her and she could snap back. But Wyatt was silent and didn’t even look at her. Daiyu felt frustration rise at him, wanting him to grab her by the shoulders and yell at her. To react with the vitriol Owen had shown her, because that was much easier to deal with than with this. Whatever it was.

She was quiet for a moment too. Maybe hoping that Wyatt would crack the heaviness in the room by telling her she was a piece of shit. It wouldn’t be news to either of them, but it would at least alleviate some tension. Eventually she did open her mouth, distantly recognizing that wanting Wyatt to curse or snap at her was just her wanting him to lower himself closer to her level. To make her feel more comfortable with her shittiness. 

“When Maggie came into the bar, looking all fierce and then some, wanting to —” Daiyu shook her head, that wasn’t right. “I shouldn’t have — I should’ve talked to you about it, after she came to me. Even if I … despite all the bullshit. Just thought that there was something I could do to make it …” She started to rub a temple, feeling herself grow agitated with herself. She had burned plenty of friendships before, but it wasn’t often that she tried to apologize for things. “Seemed so easy, way she put it. The way I made it in my head. Do this favor for you, that’s the end of it. We’re even. Was stupid of me, I know. Should have talked to you. About … plenty of things.”

—

Wyatt knew what she wanted, in a way. She was the type of person who, like Owen, didn’t know how to handle these kinds of situations. Didn’t know how to talk to someone who felt furious and betrayed all at once, who wouldn’t just lash out because of it. If they’d been better strangers, he might have. Eve had only just crossed that line, permitting him the clarity of fury to go after her, to physically harm her. And her crimes had of course nearly ripped Owen completely away from him, which was never a scenario he reacted rationally to. Daiyu, though… god, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. 

He could yell, though. Maybe it would get her to open up more, as his shouting matches with Owen so often did. 

“Dere weren’t nothin’ we needed to get ‘even’ for, Daiyu,” he responded slowly. “You didn’t owe me nothin’, even if you did tell me to fuck off after… after I didn’t do shit to earn it.” He raised his gaze to meet hers, steeling his nerves. “But you’re right. You shoulda talked to me about it.” He couldn’t harp on it too much, obviously… being impulsive wasn’t exactly a foreign concept to him. 

Lifting a hand to drag it down over his face, the shifter let out a sigh. “Look. I’m… I ain’t happy about it, obviously. But I know you was just tryin’ to help. Maggie, too — and fuck, Daiyu, I’m grateful dat it was you she ran into. I’m grateful you got her outta dat place afore she could put a target on her own back. It’s… it’s my fault she went after dis in de first place, so… don’t tink I deserve much better than what I got.” 

Okay, maybe yelling wasn’t on the table after all. He felt like a half-deflated balloon skating around on the floor and spiraling off course with every gentle breeze that passersby created. 

—

Wyatt was saying that she didn’t owe him anything, as if he hadn’t paid her two thousand dollars to keep her off his back. Money he had earned fighting for the woman Daiyu had killed, in a business that was held together by fae binds and cruelty. There was a favor owed. There was more owed than that. 

Perhaps that was the closest to a code she came: the way she refused to owe people things. The way she wanted to be even with people. Not being even meant there was something people could hold over her head, and that wasn’t a position she wanted to be in. Never mind the fact that it felt wrong, in the case of Wyatt. To have taken his money, to have built up this friendship, and then to turn her back on it without properly repaying it. She had to make up for it, for all the friendship she had taken from him before closing the door on him. She owed him the equivalent of that and two thousand bucks.

“I owed you plenty,” she snapped back, not wanting to argue about the logic that was so simple to her, but might warrant a closer look. “You’re right — you didn’t fucking deserve me telling you to fuck off. I just –” Daiyu frowned, started to rub at a temple as she tried to push away the Talia of it all, as that wasn’t why she was here.

She shook her head. “Still has a target on her back,” she muttered. “Walked in there, some people saw her face, they think I took care of it. She’s a — she just wanted to help, yeah, sure, we both wanted to help but I’m not made for helping, am I? Don’t think I helped her by making it seem like I shot her out back. Or myself.” 

Daiyu stared at a wall, then looked at Wyatt. “How bad is it? Without Agnes.”

—

“Still better dan someone else actually shootin’ her out back,” Wyatt argued right back, albeit tiredly. There wasn’t much point in panicking over how close Maggie had brushed up against true danger – what would that solve? What would it change? No, he’d just continue teaching the girl how to best defend herself, and hope that as many of the rangers in town as possible agreed that selkies didn’t really pose a threat to humans. What else could he do? 

The question that had come after was harder to respond to, the truth of the situation feeling too much like a noose tightening around his neck. “It’s fine,” he lied unconvincingly. The need to downplay it in front of everyone stemmed from a need to lie to himself and convince himself that it was fine, that it wasn’t that much worse, and that it didn’t make every day of walking through those doors feel more and more dehumanizing, like his personhood was slowly being stripped away to leave behind the only thing about him that mattered to Gene and the Pit; his rage. His situation was atypical, a series of unfortunate events, and it wasn’t the kind of attention he liked. He didn’t want pity. 

“Only fight on weekends now, so dat’s nice.” No mention of the other daily tasks he’d been assigned, ones that sometimes put him in just as much danger of being injured. “Scarcity means a bigger crowd, bigger payout.” A payout he only saw a tiny percentage of. “And my new handler don’t use faun magic on me to make me more agreeable, so…” Not a lie, though it did fail to mention all the other, arguably worse ways that Gene pressed a (usually) proverbial boot to his chest to cow him into compliance. 

At the end of the day, though, he felt it was all fair. As fair as fair can be, in a place that exploits its main source of income. He was here because he had signed a contract he didn’t read. Agnes had learned how to manipulate him because he was egotistical. Gene hated him because he was belligerent. Maggie was at risk because he couldn’t keep his trap shut in a moment of weakness. And Daiyu felt indebted to him because someone else’s love for him had outweighed their common sense — and really, no one ought to love a bully that much.

“... so we’re even. Just leave it be.”

—

“Low fucking bar,” she grumbled, though she did not bother to argue the point any further. What had happened with Maggie was on the selkie, Daiyu was not bothering to deny that fact, but it was still a thorn in her side. She could no longer deny that there wasn’t a part within her that cared about the girl, considering the way she had and continued to spare her. But even the smallest sliver of care couldn’t compete with her annoyance at the situation.

When Owen had met her in that parking lot and the two of them had thrown hands for the first time – a long time coming, really – she had concluded that Wyatt’s situation was dire. More dire than it had been before. Owen had a short fuse and his violent nature mirrored her own, but even so, the way he berated and punched her in the name of Wyatt was not so subtly hinting that shit was bad. Even by fighting pit standards. When Wyatt said it was fine, she saw the lie for what it was, without even having to read between the lines.

As he offered more details, something seemed to run down and up her spine. These fae puppeteering shifters, employing hunters and whatnot on the side as well, running a well-oiled machine so people could get their fix of violence that left no scars on their skins. Daiyu unconsciously rubbed a finger over her nose, over the somewhat crooked bone. It would never grow right again — broken too often for that. At least it hadn’t been cracked in front of an audience. She killed and fought for money too, that was true: but she had no one to show off for. 

“And you see that, the bigger payout?” She did not sound convinced, because she wasn’t. Daiyu dropped her hand from her nose. “Fucking faun magic. Fae are –” She cut herself short, not wanting to go off on a rant about how bad fae could be. Wyatt and her were plenty example that humans and shifters could be bad, too. “Well. I’m still sorry. For the … change. For not, you know, looping you in.” 

Wyatt asked her to just leave it be and something ticked in her jaw. “So we just all gotta accept that this is your fucking lot in life?” Daiyu shook her head. “Don’t worry, I won’t be trying to find a way to make shit worse, and I should probably just fuck right the fuck out of your life again, but jeez.”

—

When they asked if he saw that extra money, Wyatt kept his eyes focused on the floor. He stared blankly at it for a moment before giving a noncommittal shrug. “I get by,” he murmured, perhaps not even for the hunter’s benefit as much as it was for his own. Again, not a complete lie… he did make it from payout to payout, though he wasn’t certain he’d still have a roof over his head if not for Owen, who had helpfully stepped in to fill the gaps and spare him from a foreclosure on his home. His lifestyle had suffered though, and the joy he used to get from sourcing ingredients for every recipe that came to him on a whim had been squashed, turning the adventure of getting groceries into a performative, utilitarian act. In a way, he was lucky that his diet didn’t require the addition of human cuisine, but it didn’t feel lucky to someone who loved food. Now he mostly cooked for Owen’s benefit, and even that was lacking the usual flare and creativity. Not that Owen had ever complained, but it still stung. 

She was sorry. Everyone was fucking sorry. He hated it, and not just because he couldn’t do anything to fix it. This wasn’t the kind of attention he wanted – he was supposed to be better than this. His mama had always told him he was better than this. 

“Well what the fuck else am I supposed to do, huh?” he suddenly snapped. “Keep pissing off management? Make it worse for myself? I ain’t under any kinda impression dat dis is gonna end well for me, Daiyu. I known for a while dat I’m gonna die in dat shithole, some day, when I ain’t got what it takes to keep myself alive no more. Why de fuck would I wanna go around tryin’ to find excuses for Gene to be even more of a couyon than he already is? Fuck’s sake, I get dat y’all are upset, but dis ain’t your life! It’s mine, and I just wanna wring whatever goodness I can outta it before dat place fuckin’ kills me! Okay?” His chest heaved as he sucked in a deep breath and he turned away from Daiyu. “I get it, I get it. You’re all real fuckin’ sorry for me – well don’t be. I got myself in dis mess, and I don’t want no one’s god damn pity for it. I done about reached my fuckin’ limit for understandin’ when folks feel the need to step in and try n’ fix my shit for me.” His anger at Daiyu had reared its head again, and as he rounded on them, there was a fiery intensity in his glare that’d been lacking until now. The audacity of trying to aid him while also obviously planning to kill one of his closest friends was not lost on him, and the reminder of this contradiction was very helpful in turning his misery into fury.

“And yeah, if you’re still hellbent on gettin’ revenge on Talia, den you oughtta fuck off. I am fresh outta fuckin’ patience for people tryna take my people away from me. Last one who tried it damn near got her head bit off.” His hands closed into fists at his sides. “You wanna fuckin’ help me, den you give up dat hunt. You let me keep what I got for all de time I’m gonna have it. Change your tune, or fuck off, Blade.”

—

It was easy to be angry at the Grit Pit now. To direct her rage at another target, especially one so large and mystical as the fighting ring. Daiyu wanted to let herself fall in the comfort of it and take Wyatt with her, to both rage at the institution, at least verbally and in this space. Powerlessness wasn’t something she coped with well, especially not when it pertained to others. She wasn’t the kind of friend to lay down her life for one (though she thought, sometimes, that she might like that), but she wasn’t one who stood idly by either. She was always proactive, even if that sometimes meant proactively shutting a door or proactively killing someone’s boss. 

“Fuck,” she said, because she knew what getting by was. And Wyatt wasn’t the type to get by, now was he? Daiyu could handle all the junk food and the bills and the cheap shit. She knew Wyatt liked the better things. Hadn’t they once bonded over that? Fine dining. Quality.

When the lamia snapped at her, it took her by surprise. As if the window for yelling at her had passed, even though it was a window that should never pass. “I don’t fucking know! We never talked about it —” She cursed herself. Their friendship had been simple because they had built it on simplicity. Food. Not the topics of fighting rings, Wyatt’s diet of humans eaten whole or Daiyu’s hunting activities. They had barely spoken about the Owen of it all. She figured their most serious conversation may have been about the pet snake he kept. Well, up until now. 

Something stilled in her, though. Wyatt was waiting for that place to kill him. Like a disease was spreading in him, chipping away at him, and he wanted to cling to any goodness there was. Daiyu didn’t get it. She understood feeling like life was spent in death’s waiting room – that was pretty much where hunters were born – but she did not understand the acceptance. The wish to cling to small comforts until time was there. But what place did she have to fight Wyatt on it, where she stood now? “Fine! Fine, fuck it, you can get all the goodness you want until it kills you. But don’t you fucking dare lie on your back and show your fucking belly to them. And if you change your mind –” What did she have to offer? She could kill. Kill and burn bridges. But she hadn’t figured out how to burn fae specific ones yet. Swiftly, she wondered if there was a trade to be made with these fucking fae. But it was a thought disregarded, due to what came next.

“Revenge?” The word was echoed loudly, and she felt almost offended. “I am not like her — this wasn’t ever about revenge. I wasn’t gonna fucking kill her out of some pride, out of something as fucking stupid and petty as vengeance. I had to be – I have to be —” Daiyu didn’t want to say it, that she needed to feel closer to safe. That she needed to stop feeling like every branch snapped in the woods was Talia coming back to her house, this time claws and fangs and all. That she did not want to die, and as long as someone thought that killing her would absolve her of her grief for a twin sister, she could not breathe soundly. But Talia had talked about not wanting to die killing her, and she had believed her. “My hunt on her is fucking done anyway. Doesn’t matter. She’s too much of a coward to go after me again, so I lay down my god damned weapons. Not worth the headache.” She ground her teeth. “Never thought about biting her head off for trying it on me though, did you?”

—

Daiyu’s insistence that he not roll over for the Pit was simply met with a scoff – he had some pride left, even though he’d shed a fair deal of it to better manage Gene’s pissy moods and keep himself out of the line of fire. At this point, he was of the opinion that whatever he could do to stave off more trouble and buy himself more time with Owen would be readily accepted. Gene hadn’t tested his limits quite to the extremes yet, but if he did, he’d find Wyatt to be surprisingly compliant. This was no longer about pride, nor his reputation. At this juncture, it was only about time. He only wanted more time to love the people he loved and feel that affection in return. The cost didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. 

“Good,” he growled. “Den you done grew yourself a brain.” There was a pause – the accusation ached like a wound, but Daiyu wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t gone after her attacker. “No. I didn’t. Because it was Talia. You know if it’d been a stranger, I woulda. And if she’d still wanted to kill you after I found out about it, after I helped tend to her wounds? We woulda had a stern fuckin’ conversation. Not unlike de one I tried to have with you. I didn’t treat her no different than I woulda treated you, roles reversed. I don’t like infightin’, but you’re also both fuckin’ adults and capable of dealin’ with your own shit. The last time…” Wyatt’s voice went much softer, his heart racing in his chest. He knew Daiyu was aware of Eve’s plans, she’d been a part of them, but to admit to her what he’d done months later… “He weren’t capable of dat, on account of bein’ fuckin’ dead. Different situation. Talia gave up de fight, I was just waitin’ for you to do de same. Obviously, I didn’t wanna have to get involved.” Another brief pause. “I didn’t wanna have to hurt you. Or her.” His expression morphed into one of concern. “So… you’ve really given it up?” 

—

Daiyu felt the urge to defend herself grow hot in her chest, wanting to point out that she had had all the right to not believe that Talia had given up the fight. To her, it was still like Wyatt had chosen the werewolf over her, if only because he hadn’t cast her aside the moment she’d come into her house. Because he had tended to her wounds and let it all be. She had an ugly thought, then: maybe he couldn’t understand how she felt, because he was so powerless at the Pit, so willing to accept his fate. She cast it aside as swift as it rose, mind milling laboriously over the situation at hand. 

“Not so capable of dealing with her own shit if she needed a bodyguard and someone to clean her fucking wounds,” she pointed out bitterly, letting bite carry her words. The image of Wyatt tending to that stab wound while Daiyu awoke in her house alone and scared was making her feel close to another spiral, but she tried to hold on to the fact that Wyatt said he didn’t want to hurt her. 

She turned around for a moment, face shielded from observation, the conflict true and apparent on all her features. With fists clenched at her sides, she looked back at Wyatt. “I didn’t want none of this shit. She brought the fight to me. So did her fucking twin, not that I’m looking for any excuse as to why I killed her a fucking lifetime ago. I — if she really means it that she’s done with this stupid revenge bullshit, then sure, I can let it go. But she takes one wrong step in my direction and the silver goes in her brain next time.” Daiyu bristled. “Fucking sue me for finding it so hard to believe that she suddenly had a change of heart.” A beat. “I get we should’ve had this talk sooner and that’s on me. But I’m not fucking sorry for trying to have my own god damned back. For now, yeah. I’m done. Not an idiot, though.”

—

He knew it wasn’t fair of him to expect Daiyu to drop it so easily. As she’d said, it wasn’t about revenge. She’d not finished her sentence, but he’d picked up on her meaning on account of feeling very similarly – it was about feeling safe. Secure. When he’d discovered that Eve had tried to take Owen’s body away from him, it had made Wyatt feel insecure in the slayer’s second lease on life. He was more fragile than before, his life tethered not only to Rosemary’s, but to the mark on his chest. It would be easy for Eve to send him back to the grave, if she decided his existence was too unnatural. She’d given Owen a guard for the mark, but Wyatt had lost all trust in her motivations when she couldn’t even be decent enough to let him grieve in his own time, and his own way. She was a liar, and a manipulator. She could talk one way, then act another. He couldn’t trust her. He was afraid of her. 

And Daiyu was probably fucking afraid of Talia. 

Wyatt sighed, shoulders sagging again as all the fight went out of him. He had to save that kind of energy for the weekend fights, where it was really needed. “I don’t blame you,” he muttered. “I don’t. I know dis whole thing is a fuckin’ shitshow, and I know you must feel some type’ah way havin’ her barge in on you like she did, wid backup you thought was a friend. I get it, Daiyu. Dat’s a hard fuckin’ betrayal, and I don’t expect you to get over it just like dat.” Despite what he’d said before, when he was pissed at the both of them for what’d happened. Saying that it was just nature, that it was just how things were, and everyone needed to move on. Wishful venting. “I just didn’t wanna lose no more friends.” He rubbed the back of his neck, squeezed his eyes closed, and took a moment to center himself. “She do mean it, though. Honest. She do regret it, and I trust she don’t wanna go another round. I see her side, too. Doin’ shit you shouldn’t in de name of dead loved ones is… just an instinct, I think. For all of us. Can’t always take de time to think it over good before your feet are carryin’ you to a place you can’t come back from.” 

Opening his eyes, the shifter regarded Daiyu with a wary kind of sadness that colored his whole posture. “Are… are we gonna be good? You n’ I?”

—

She had found truth in her words when she had said them, but when Wyatt spoke those words, she still found herself comforted. A part of her thought finally, because she had yearned for this kind of acknowledgement. Another part of her knew that the reason such acknowledgement had not come her way was because she had thrown the door in Wyatt’s face and assumed his proximity to Talia would render him incapable of it. Stupid, because Daiyu was very much aware of all the space in the lamia’s heart. The fact that he’d let her in there after she had tried to kill him from behind said enough. Apologizing over and over again wasn’t something she was prone to do, but the need almost arose. She did not know why she assumed everyone functioned the way she did — in broken absolutes, avoidant and volatile. It was unfair to Wyatt, she knew that, but she also found herself incapable of understanding the multitudes he contained. She could at least acknowledge them now, though.

It seemed impossible to answer it in full, all that Wyatt said. She simply nodded, grinding her teeth. The acknowledgement brought some comfort, but also plenty of guilt, and she tried to swallow both at once. It lodged in her throat. “Well. I can understand acting rashly in the name of …” Love? Was that the word she wanted to use, to describe what she had done for (and to) Wyatt when she’d killed Agnes? She supposed so. Her throat grew more lodged. “Loved ones.” Daiyu didn’t want to compare the two acts, but she understood the red throughline that connected all these acts of violence together. It really was easier to move based on bounties. At least that was hammered home once more. 

She looked at Wyatt who carried his sadness on display so overtly. She found that for once, she did not resent someone for being so openly emotional. She swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Yeah.” She felt it was wrong, that she was the one saying that, when she had done all the damages. “I would like that.” 

—

So many aspects of these terrifying entanglements they found themselves in ran parallel to one another that it was hard not to empathize with her. Once the anger had faded, it was impossible to not see her side, to not feel what she felt. On some level, Wyatt had the sense that he could even anticipate what had not yet to come to pass, though the chaos of this universe and all the ones that ran alongside it would see to it that his predictions were never completely correct. Which, obviously, was fine. He wasn’t a soothsayer, just a man who often intuited more than he let on. 

Daiyu spoke of love, and he smiled sadly. Love was what had sent Talia after her, and her after Agnes, and him after Eve. Love was a terrible, beautiful thing, and it had to be wielded cautiously in order to prevent violence. It was like a blade so sharp it could pierce the very air, slicing through atoms and creating explosions that injured far more people than just the pair locked in combat. It was everything: a reason to live, a reason to die. A reason to hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. It was dangerous, but necessary. 

The olive branch was accepted, and Wyatt felt a fourth of the weight on his shoulders evaporate. “I’m glad to hear dat.” He knew this – serious conversations about emotions often left unsaid –  was hard for Daiyu. He knew it, and would respect it. “Thanks for comin’ to talk. You can… you best go on n’ git before Owen gets home. I’ll talk to ‘im.” It was a flimsy excuse for her to use so she wouldn’t have to linger in this exposure. She took it and the pair exchanged quiet goodbyes, Wyatt letting her out the way she’d come in. But, as she reached the top of the stairs on the deck, he spoke up to give her one last affirmation. 

“I love you too, Daiyu.” If she looked back at him, she’d only see him smiling and shaking his head as he leaned back into the house and closed the sliding glass door between them.