Snow Hunter Stories

When the world went to shit, as he inevitably always believed it would, it did so in the most undignified manner possible– although, he supposed that was also fitting, for as pathetic as the end was, it was also very human. Panic is chaos’ greatest weapon and something so ingrained in human behavior as a survival instinct that it cannot be stamped out. It makes people paranoid, frantic, reckless, desperate. So when the world went to shit, admittingly a little sooner than he had believed it would, it did so with such achingly human panic that it was really no surprise everything caught fire.

It was a good thing dragons were impervious to being burnt. They could shake off the ashes and move along– or so he told himself, so he told her. Now, he may have been mixing his lore and metaphors a little with that, but he hardly thought the apocalypse was the right time to get picky about that sort of thing.

There were more important things to worry about than schematics, more important things to contemplate than the redundant questions of how and why, more important things to do than scream and cry and sleep like he wanted to. Oh Spirits, did he want to just sleep.

But the world had gone to shit, just like he always knew it would, and, even if it had happened earlier than expected, he was still prepared to carry out his duties. He was a good soldier, so he knew how to endure. He was a good brother, so he knew how to protect.

▪¤▪

Kacey Porter was not someone you would consider a role model or proper guardian by any means. He shamelessly read trashy (borderline smutty) romance novels in public, had never been on time for anything in his life, could probably be classified as a pathological liar (definitely could be, if you asked his ex-girlfriends), had issues with intimacy and trust, drank himself stupid nearly every night, and gave the most unbelievable excuses imaginable for such behavior. He was chronically pessimistic and tragically depressed and, quite possibly, the scum of the earth.

And yet, Caith Walsh and Elise Langley still saw something in him enough to want to be his friends, to follow him around faithfully, like he was some kind of impressive, heroic leader just because he was a little smart or a little cool (what does that word even mean– “cool”?).

Caith Walsh and Elise Langley: his best friends.

His best friends that were now dead.

Dead because of him.

He can still see Caith’s crushed face and broken body in his nightmares– the red, red blood leaking from the corner of his mouth; the pale, pale glaze that clouded his eyes and turned them from midnight blue, to milky grey; the residual twitching of his mangled fingers reaching out, out, out to Kacey for-

For what? Help? Comfort? Safety?

Kacey could offer him none of those things. He couldn’t two years ago when he watched his friend, his childhood best friend, get crushed by falling concrete debris in the midst of the first wave of Great Earthquakes, and he still can’t now when he watches the playful light leave that same friend’s eyes over and over again in his nightmares.

He couldn’t grab Caith’s hand at that time because he had nothing to offer. (he still doesn’t.)

While Caith haunts his nights, Elise is the ghost that truly makes his waking moments hell.

With every blink, every brief flicker of darkness, he remembers her hot, hot blood coat his hands in a way he just knows will prevent them from ever being clean again (the liquid’s so hot he’s surprised it didn’t burn him– he almost wishes it had so that the mark of it would be there forever, so that the evidence would be there for all to see, and people would run and scream murderer murderer murderer mur-); he remembers the awful, awful, overwhelming tang and smell of iron; he remembers her soft voice whispering his name and her delicate, crescent shaped smile, and-

Why? Why? Why did she smile? Why did she do that?

Kacey still didn’t know, a whole year and a half later.

He didn’t know why Caith, the kind hearted idiot, had pushed him out of the way and saved his life. He didn’t know why Elise, innocent and adorable Elise, smiled at him like none of it was his fault as she threw herself on his knife to avoid a worse fate.

It was his fault (he didn’t deserve that forgiving smile).

No, Kacey was not a good role model or proper guardian in the slightest– he was a fucked up mess, and that was on one of his good days.

And yet, life seemed insistent on handing him these burdensome leadership roles.

Hikari and Kirako Tatsu: his… well, he doesn’t know what to call them. They’re just a pair of siblings he picked up around a year ago that have been following him ever since. He doesn’t recall asking them to join him, because he’d definitely remember extending an invitation like that, but here they are, following after him like clueless baby chicks (like Caith and Elise).

Kacey doesn’t want them to follow. He doesn’t want to fail them the same way he did everyone else, the same way he always does in the end. He doesn’t want to get close to others again– he doesn’t want to care.

But a year has passed since he met the strange brother-sister duo, and it’s too late to turn back now. He’s used to them at this point: used to Hikari’s terrible jokes (he had thought it was impossible to actually be less funny than Caith, but the brunette teenager had proved him wrong) and Kirako’s carefree laughter that followed (her smile reminded him of Caith as well, so pure and happy and good, that he wanted to-), used to their amusing bickering and used to putting up with their incessant teasing, used to accepting Kirako’s secret acts of kindness when she thought nobody was looking or her “stealthy” snuggles when she believes he’s already gone to sleep (such a tsundere, she really does remind him of Caith), used to Hikari’s almost motherly fretting and encouraging speeches accompanied by kind crescent moon smiles (so much like Elise– but he doesn’t deserve that. he doesn’t deserve such smiles, he doesn’t-). No, Kacey’s used to them by now, to the point where he thinks he might get lonely without them.

He’s not a good leader or guardian, and he’s an even shittier role model, but he tries. He tries to be better for the two teenagers that have somehow found themselves under his care (they’re young– too young to experience such a horrible world as the one they’ve been thrust into, that humanity had been thrust into without any warning). He tries to be better than his past self, than his former ignorance and current guilt. He tries to just be better.

Kacey isn’t sure it’s working.

Was it a sign of his parenting skills that his “children” were attempting to rob a convenience store while holding one hostage at gunpoint and the other pinned with a knife to their throat?

It probably was, considering he was fairly proud upon discovering the scene and only mildly exasperated.

“Enough, you two.” Kacey felt like he couldn’t sigh any harder when a girl with fading, dyed pink hair let out a loud yelp at his sudden appearance and statement, very obviously frightened. He didn’t even bother wondering how a girl like her (she looked close to Kirako’s age) had survived the terrors of the new world so long, figuring it had something to do with the two boys being subdued by his own troublemakers (at what point had he started referring to them as “his”?). Besides, kids were scary these days– not that he blamed them.

They had to be to survive.

“Oi! Who the hell are you guys?!”

Kacey glanced over calmly at the angry blonde who seemed not to care all that much about the Beretta M9 aimed straight at his face. His teeth were clenched, much like his fists, and his forest green eyes were as deep and dark as the jungle. Unlike the girl, who looked a little worse for wear, but generally unharmed, he was covered in bruises, ones both an ugly dark purple and a lighter healing green, and all of which stood out starkly against his deeply tanned skin. His knuckles were wrapped clumsily in dirty bandages. Geez, he could already tell this kid was a handful. Why did Hikari and Kirako always have to pick the troublesome ones to mess with?

“Sorry, Kay, but we didn’t start it this time, so you can’t get mad at us,” Kirako chimes, tone playful and feigning innocence. It’s a direct contrast to her sly smile and sparking dark brown eyes, as well as her position atop the dark haired boy she has pinned to the floor, blade not moving an inch from his throat as she speaks. Her brother’s aim doesn’t waver from the blonde’s forehead either.

Spirits, Kacey swears that he can actually feel himself getting older. At this rate, he wouldn’t be surprised if his black hair began turning grey early from either the intense emotional stress he suffered almost constantly as a byproduct of the apocalypse, or dealing with the Tatsu siblings’ reckless antics (actually, both things seemed practically the same sometimes).

Slowly, gaze carefully watching the jumpy pinkette and hostile blonde, Kacey raised his hands, palms outward, in the universal sign of surrender and peace. He spoke in the most even toned voice he could manage, addressing all of the teenagers present (why teenagers? he was a grown man, so how the hell did he end up babysitting teenagers?). “Look, there’s been a misunderstanding. Let’s all just put our weapons down and-“

“Hey! Your friends are the only ones with weapons!” Taped Knuckles snarled at the same time Pinky decided to protest as well.

“Misunderstanding?! That girl just came out of nowhere and attacked Rian!” She jabbed a finger in Kirako’s direction, expression one of absolute horror when all she received in response to her accusation was an eye roll from the light haired brunette holding “Rian” hostage. If he wasn’t imagining things, he swore he heard the lump underneath the girl grunt.

Ignoring that for now, Kacey turned his deadpanned gaze to said girl, who had the nerve to just blink back at him like she wasn’t threatening a boy’s life at the moment. “You ‘didn’t start it this time’, huh?”

Kirako merely shrugged.

“In her defense,” Hikari began, then abruptly shut his mouth when Kacey’s blank stare turned to him. He sighed and lowered his weapon by only an inch, not fully trusting the blonde who seemed most likely to continue the fight at the moment. He knew when to give in.

Seeing the slight movement of defeat from her brother, Kirako abruptly stood, removing herself from the dark haired boy and swirling her dagger in her hands to alter her grip to something more defensive, more casual and less tense. She made sure to take several steps back from the freed boy and his companions, quickly placing herself by Kacey’s side. As she did so, the kid -Rian- scrambled sloppily to his feet and spun to face them, noticeably placing his body in front of Pinky and Knuckles. (his eyes were a deep, endless dark blue like Caith’s.)

“Who the hell are you guys?” he demanded, voice stronger and more level-headed than his friends’. It was difficult to miss the fingers of one of his pale hands brushing over his throat as he spoke– clearly a comfort mechanism, an instinctual reaction after having a blade pressed so close to the tender skin. Despite that, his ocean eyes were burning a way actual water couldn’t.

“We’re just travelers, survivors, same as you,” Kacey tried to make peace once more.

“Hunters is more like it,” Rian angrily shot back.

Peace attempt failed.

Kacey sighed again, most likely losing another five years of his life in that drawn-out breath because of how old and tired he was feeling again.

“Look, how about we all just-“

Crash!

The glass storefront shattered, Kacey quickly pulling Kirako to his side and shielding the young girl from as much of it as he could with his body crouched over top of her own.

There had been a breach. The store obviously wasn’t safe any more. Sickly, paper pale bodies with thick, ink black veins, bloodshot eyes, and emancipated frames were already crawling through the broken window. Their guttural groans and high pitched, animal-like screeches pierced the air.

Infected.

In an instant, without missing a single beat, Hikari had turned and aimed his gun at the incoming threats. Head shot. Double-tap.

Kirako was on her feet shortly after the first shot had been fired, sliding out from beneath Kacey and quickly pulling him up after her. She pushed the older male towards the trio that had previously just been arguing with them, but now only looked terrified, and shouted “go, go, go!” They didn’t need to be told twice, taking off down the slim aisles and retreating to whatever safety barricade they had within the building that had acted as their base for so long. Kacey was hot on their heels, not stopping despite the distinct lack of footsteps following him.

As he watched the horror-stricken group of kids run, he suddenly remembered that, despite what he had thought earlier, not all kids were scary. Some were still just kids. Some ran and hid when they saw Infected. Some were just normal.

Hikari and Kirako aren’t normal.

That’s something that Kacey had known from pretty much the moment he had met them. He had gotten so used to their presence and behavior, that sometimes he forgot that fact, brushed it all off as a result of the world falling to pieces, children forced to grow up too fast, children that saw too much. He dismissed little tidbits of information like their familiarity with firearms and advanced combat skills, their unnaturally fast reflexes and sometimes frightening intelligence, the way they could make their faces so carefully, carefully blank on rare occasions that they appeared nothing more than masks. He was sure they had seen too much even before the world had gone to shit (his guess was something to do with the military, but they would have been roughly sixteen and fourteen respectively at the time of the Great Earthquakes and the following Outbreak, and what military force accepts and trains literal children? the minimum legal age for recruitment was eighteen, as far as he knew).

He forgets all of that sometimes– most times. Because it’s easy to forget when Kirako is cuddled up to his side like the younger sibling he never had, warmth spreading through his body and soul in ways he hadn’t felt since his friends had died; it’s easy to forget when Hikari is making his idiotic jokes and giving him that smile (he doesn’t deserve it. he doesn’t deserve such kindness).

But then he remembers in moments like this where they march into battle and kill without flinching and he can only do so much to help. He remembers in moments where their flawless masks are firmly in place, like the singular instance where he had brought his guess regarding their backgrounds up to Hikari while Kirako slept soundly next to them. He remembers in rare moments where Kirako will simply hold his hand and say nothing, looking like she wants to cry, but doesn’t know how (she only does this when Hikari is not around to see). He remembers, and then his already drowned heart sinks further into the murky waters of his chest.

Kacey Porter was not someone you would consider a role model or proper guardian by any means. He shamelessly read trashy (borderline smutty) romance novels in public, had never been on time for anything in his life, could probably be classified as a pathological liar (definitely could be, if you asked his ex-girlfriends), had issues with intimacy and trust, drank himself stupid nearly every night, and gave the most unbelievable excuses imaginable for such behavior. He was chronically pessimistic and tragically depressed and, quite possibly, the scum of the earth.

And yet, Hikari and Kirako Tatsu still saw something in a broken fool like him to follow him around faithfully, like he was some kind of impressive, heroic leader just because he was a little smart and a little older.

He felt like he had already failed them.

▪¤▪

It didn’t take long to clear out the small group of Infected that had rather inconveniently infiltrated the convenience store (he was definitely going to say that one out loud later, once he was Hikari again and no longer Soldier. he could already picture the amused look in Kacey’s dark eyes that he would try to hide and his sister’s resounding snort of laughter, the same wide grin on her face that he adored). It was an easy job, given his Beretta and Kirako’s aid. He watched now as she pulled her beloved dagger from the eye socket of a corpse, stumbling back a little from the sheer force used once her weapon was free. Blood, red and black and dripping, coated the knife, and she quickly swiped the blade on the dead man’s clothes to clean it.

She made a face, nose wrinkling in disgust and the right corner of her mouth twitching just the slightest bit. Just like that, the spell was broken and Hikari laughed at her expression, once again himself. He swung an arm over his younger sister’s shoulders and they began following the path they had seen Kacey take. It had only been a couple of minutes -ten or so at the most, since the horde had been so few in number-, so the group had probably not been locked up in a safe room for long. They’d simply pick up Kacey and be on their merry way (surely the whole “you attacked us, bleh” fiasco would be forgotten by now and the annoying blonde with the splotchy bruises on his skin would be quiet, right? afterall, they did just technically protect them from an invasion of Infected, so they should be grateful, right?). 

Kacey could fight, and fight well, they knew that. But someone had to look after the morons they had run into. And sometimes it was easier without him around, too.

But they wouldn’t leave without Kacey.

The world may have gone to shit, just like he had said it always would, but there were still rare silver-linings that he would not let go of. He was a good soldier, so he would endure. He was a good brother, so he would protect Kirako no matter what. He was a good friend, so he wouldn’t leave Kacey behind (and he’d be sure to share his ingenious pun the second they reunited).

He was good at being many things, but he enjoyed being Hikari best– that was the one thing he was thankful for in this living hellscape, an unintended consequence when the world caught fire. When the panic set in for others, he simply took a deep breath and relished the newfound freedom he had.

Dragons were naturally resistant to flames, and just like them, Hikari and Kirako would rise from the ashes, unscathed and gleaming– or so he told her, so he told himself.