Facing Fear | ✓ ONC 2023 Honorable Mention

7 | Don't Let Go

After weeks of walking without rest, all the trees started to look the same. Ronin kept Mori from boredom by challenging her to sniping contests every now and then. The practice honed her ability to draw her pistol or rifle and fire in a single breath, hardly batting an eye at the black and white birds she shot out of the sky. And she won every time.

It'd been awhile since she'd won at anything.

Ronin noticed too. "You could at least try and act like you're the best sniper in the world," he teased. "Otherwise you're going to fatally wound my pride." He clutched his chest as if she'd fired a bullet into his heart.

Mori shrugged, but smiled a little. "Maybe you'd stand a better chance if you tapped your earring to grey."

"Is that an attempt at trash talking?" Ronin asked, walking backwards yet managing not to trip. "If every trash talker was as nice as you, toxicity would be out on the street and starving."

"Being toxic isn't really my style," Mori said. She'd run into plenty of rude gamers back in the day. It never bothered her much—their behavior boiled down to bullying and she'd always remembered the words of her kindergarten teacher after she'd been left crying by some mean girls in the class.

"It takes strength to choose kindness, Mori—to be soft when life is hard. Bullying comes from weakness, so don't let them get to you." She'd brushed Mori's hair out of her face and dabbed at her cheeks with a tissue. "It's easy to be mean and only care about yourself, but it's hard work being kind and taking care of others. Your heart muscle must be very strong."

"What're you thinking so hard about?" Ronin poked her shoulder.

Mori swatted his hand away. "Whether you're a bully or not."

When Ronin frowned, Mori wondered if she'd overstepped the bounds of polite banter. "I'm sure plenty of people would say so," he admitted.

In the distance, a wall appeared in her view. Despite the differences in the terrain of each ring, the walls remained the same. Stone guardians with infinite reach, but vaporous as a passing cloud. Mori waited another moment in case Ronin wanted to volunteer more information on his own.

"You know, roles kind of suck when it comes to stereotypes," her teammate finally said. "If people think you're a rogue-type, they'll treat you like—" Ronin caught her eye and substituted the word. "Crap."

"This game doesn't have role selection," Mori pointed out. "So are they going off of your aesthetic?

Ronin turned around to face away from her, his voice clear over their comms. "They go off sigs. But word gets out about what you can do and everyone will be on your back for one reason or another."

If that were the case, how long until someone pegged her for a healer? How long before they expected her to fill that role in all its capacities?

"Bird," Ronin called.

With a thought and steady flick of her hand, Mori shot the bird perched on a tree branch before Ronin did. Even with higher speed, the extra time he took to aim spelled his defeat.

"Nice one," he said.

"Can I ask what your signature skill is?" The pistol in Mori's hand vaporized into white pixels like snowflakes.

She could've sworn he flinched.

"You can," he said slowly. "I have more than one though." His cloak hood hid his face. Even after a month around Ronin, she hadn't moved past the wall of his ever-shifting appearance to be able to read him.

"What is the sig you're talking about then?" Mori asked. "I promise I won't judge and you already know mine." If she dared she'd have put a reassuring hand on his arm.