Facing Fear | ✓ ONC 2023 Honorable Mention

17 | All Bite, No Bark

"You're not out of the game though, are you? Not in the top ten anymore either," Ronin said quietly.

At first, Mori thought Cynthia would deck Ronin. The woman's fist clenched at her side, and Mori prepared to step between them. But then Cynthia shrugged. "I'll let Tofu handle you," she said over her shoulder as she walked away, her grey skirt swirling around her ankles.

They entered the house, the smell of cookies wafting over them. A grandfather clock ticked in the hall and faint music played from another room. Aged. Lived in. That's how the house felt, with antique furniture and pictures on the walls and every available surface. From the outside the size had been deceiving, with the inside being much more spacious than seemed possible.

"Where do we look?" Mori asked. Peering at the photos on the wall, she gasped in shock.

One of the frames held a picture of her family, from a day at the beach after she'd graduated high school. Her parents sat on a towel in the shade of an umbrella, while she and Shiori had their legs buried in the sand.

Her staring attracted Ronin's attention. "That's you?" he asked, pointing to her in the photo.

"That's me." Heartbeat speeding up, Mori tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Have you always worn that coin necklace?"

She clutched the coin in her free hand. "As long as I can remember. My grandma gave it to me. For good luck." Mori tugged him away from the wall, not wanting him to look any longer for worry that he'd remark on her braces, or her cringe haircut, or any of a dozen other awkward things. "Is there a picture of you somewhere?"

"Probably." Ronin glanced around hesitantly. "We don't have time to look for it though. This way." He led her down the hall until they reached the kitchen.

A woman wearing an apron leaned over the oven, trying to pull out a tray of cookies. "Ouch! That's hot," she said to herself before grabbing a mitt.

Mori felt Ronin stiffen at her side.

The woman pried a cookie off the sheet with a spatula and juggled it in her hands. "Riku-kun, come try this and tell me if it tastes like mom's," she called. When Ronin didn't move, Tokiwa approached them and tried to shove the cookie in his mouth. "C'mon, they're your favorite."

Ronin grabbed Tokiwa's wrist. "Stop. Please, stop." He gripped Mori's hand so tight she thought her bones might snap.

Tokiwa wilted like a flower, nibbling on the cookie herself. "Listen, we went over this before. You might not think I'm real anymore, but I am. Don't you remember our rice candy stash? Or falling out of the tree house and growing a lump the size of an egg on your head? Because I do."

"I remember," Ronin whispered. "But if you were real you'd want me to go home. You wouldn't try and keep me here.

Pain stabbed Mori's chest at the tears streaking lines down Ronin's face. At the utter weariness in his eyes. She reached up and brushed some of them away with her thumb. Then she realized something else, a subtle change that contributed to the real, but unreal feeling—

She didn't have any stats here.

Tucking her hand behind her back, she tried to summon her pistol. Nothing.

"This is home," Tokiwa argued, flour smudging her cheeks and dusting her black hair. For some reason, she looked familiar to Mori, with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. "You really want to leave me behind again? You already did. Even though I would have done anything for you, you wouldn't do the same for me."

"Stop," Ronin said, closing his eyes.

"I died alone because you told me you wished I'd never come," Tokiwa whimpered, eyes watering. "You could stay here with me, but you don't want to. I made cookies for you, yet you won't even eat one."