Your Old School Bully

A cold jolt runs down your spine as the realization hits you hard. It isn't warmth in those crimson eyes—it's recognition, sharp and sudden, like a cat spotting a mouse it once let go. And then her mouth curves into a slow, insufferable grin that reaches back across years and rearranges your entire nervous system.

That grin. You know that grin.

She's in front of you in an instant, and before you can react, a clawed hand grabs you by the front of your armor, hauling you up onto your toes. Her thumb and forefinger find your forehead with effortless precision.

The flick lands clean and hard.

"Ow—!"

"Loser," she says, though you notice it doesn't carry the contempt it used to. All the same, the word jabs you like a key **** into a lock. Every muscle in your tenses up. All of it comes flooding back—the hallways, the lunch table, the years of having your stuff moved and your name mispronounced on purpose. And behind it all: that same insufferable grin.

"...Nao?" you ****.

"Took you long enough." She releases your armor and steps back. She puts a hand on their hip, her eyes fully taking in the sight of you. "You look terrible."

"You just shattered my shield!"

"Yeah." She glances at the debris, unimpressed. "You should really get a better one."

Before you can respond, the shadows behind her crash open in a clatter of dark armor. Three hulking demons with weapons spill into the clearing, pulling up short of Nao.

"Your Malevolence!" The tallest one scans the clearing, eyes landing on you. "We detected a disturbance. Are you unharmed?"

Nao doesn't even turn around. She just looks at you, and her grin sharpens by one insufferable degree.

"No need." She rolls one shoulder. "I'm in the middle of something." She tilts her head toward you. "Get a good look at this one. Calls themselves an adventurer."

The soldiers look. You stand there, shield in pieces at your feet, fully aware of exactly how this appears.

"Used to trip over their own backpack every single day," she continues with a snort.

One of the soldiers makes a sound that is unmistakably a laugh. Another has the presence of mind to smother it, though not quickly enough.

"I-I did not—" You stop. You breathe. "Are you really doing this in front of your foot soldiers?"

Her eyes flick toward her guards and back to you. "I'll do whatever I want. What are you gonna do about it?" She says, folding her arms. You open your mouth, and find nothing useful waiting there. Her satisfaction is immense. Behind her, the soldiers attempt to regain their professional composure with little success.

"Your Malevolence," the tall one ventures to amuse, "if it would please you...we could take this insolent human into custody. Teach him some "manners", as the humans call it—"

Nao's expression doesn't change. Not exactly. But the air does. Something around Nao tightens, brief and almost invisible, gone before it fully arrives. What replaces it is pure, flat irritation.

"It wouldn't." She doesn't look at him. He stands slightly straighter regardless. "Did I ask for suggestions?"

"No, Your Malevolence."

"Then stop having them." The other two guards sneak a look at the tallest one, before averting their gaze to the most interesting blade of grass they can find. She waves a hand. "All of you. Go find something useful to do."

"But Your Malevolence, the human—" the shortest one pleads.

"Clearly isn't a threat." She finally turns to face them. "Unless there's something about this situation that looks threatening to you. Is there something about this situation that looks threatening to you?"

The soldiers timidly kneel and quickly make their exit, armor clattering as they disappear back into the dark. Their footsteps fade. The forest settles.

Nao turns back to you.

The irritation is already gone, smoothed over, back to bored and superior. But she's quiet for a moment. Her crimson eyes sweep over you with an expression you can't quite parse. "I'll admit." She says it slowly. Grudgingly. Like the words cost her something. "You're not as annoying to look at as you used to be." Your brain stalls.

"Don't read into it," she says.

"I wasn't," you say. You were, and will continue to.

She exhales through her nose, something almost rueful in it, and tucks a strand of silver hair back with one finger.

"Don't die out here." Flat. Familiar. The same voice she used to tell you your shoelace was untied, right before she walked away and let you figure out the rest. "It'd be a waste."

She's gone before you can answer, her cloak swallowing the dark like she was never there. Just the scorch marks. Just the quiet. Just the ghost of that grin, lodged somewhere you wish it wasn't.

You stand there for a long, stupid moment. Then you head back to the inn.