Chris made it to the summit at sunset and dropped his stick, his chest panged as if he was breathing on one lung, and dropped the other a few meters back.

At the peak, Chris was treated to picturesque views of not just the Pearl of Africa, but the forestation of their neighboring countries—Rwanda and Congo, as well as the collection of volcanoes of the Virunga Mountain Range. The view was enhanced with the blue and golden hue of the sky as the sun ended its shift for the day.

A shudder crept out of Chris as a breeze passed over him, reminding his body of the biting cold. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned away from the beauty. His eyes locked onto the crater lake and he walked through the grass plagued with bare spots.

He stopped before the lake and looked around.

There was no other place it could be located.

“Goddammit…” said Chris as he removed his backpack and dove into the freezing body of water.

The jolt of the cold kept him alert and he swam to the bottom motivated by the desire to get out of the lake as quickly as possible.

The bottom of the lake was covered in moss. Chris looked around until a blue glowing symbol of a death-head moth beckoned to him. He moved down to it and brushed it with his fingertips.

“Lukwata,” he called. He pressed the Relic into the symbol and the lake opened up, swallowing him in seconds.

Chris was whirled in the darkness, his ears filled with the sounds of rushing water as if he were trapped in a giant washing machine.

The dizzying nightmare ended with him being shot out of the cold water and into the air. He landed on a wooden platform on his stomach. Chris pushed himself up while muttering to himself about the Trials’ repetitive antics. This was getting old already.

After being dragged through a body of water and spat out like expired meat, once again, Chris found himself in a cave.

It had an eerie golden glow radiating from the collection of stalactites that covered the roof of the cave. The wooden platform he stood on was circular shaped with its edges blocked by the rocky walls of the cave. In the center was a small hole—where he was shot up from.

In front of him were six broken gravestones with only their bottom half left, and four glimmering gravestones each with their own distinct shape and ancient writing inscribed on them, but they all had the same handprint on the granite base.

Behind the gravestones was a mossy wooden door with ancient Luganda scrawled across it.

“So, where’s Tayte?” a calm voice asked.

Chris went into high alert, unholstering his gun with finesse and pointed it at the wet man that sat on the platform beside him. The man went completely undetected till now having Chris criticize himself for his inattentiveness.

The man turned his head to Chris, focusing on him with his alluring green eyes. “Would you put that away?” Takato asked calmly.

“No.” Christ started to shiver and felt a twitch in his nose causing him to sniffle over and over.

“Did you catch a cold?” Takato teased.

“No, I—”

Chris sneezed and dropped his weapon—it conveniently slid over to Takato’s lap.

The two stared at each other in silence.

Chris held out his hand, smiling nervously. “There wouldn’t be any chance that you could…”

Then, Takato slid the gun over to the hole and it fell in. “Now that's out of the way.”

“Luk—”

“Dude! Look around! Do you really think this is a good place to fight?”

Chris halted and scanned the compact area. “How long have you been here?”

“Maybe an hour?” Takato said. “I think I have a good idea of what you are supposed to do to advance.” He pointed at the flattop, upright gravestone. “You need to make a sacrifice.”

“How the hell did you reach that conclusion?”

Takato turned to Chris and cocked a smile. “Hmph. So, you can’t read your own people’s writing, huh?”

Chris pulled back, chagrined, moved up to a slant gravestone, and crouched to read. His eyes narrowed as his brain went into full gear, starting the deciphering process.

It took him a while, making Takato let out a mocking yawn.

Chris scowled back at him.

“Sorry,” Takato said, raising his hands and snickering.

With a few more seconds, Chris was able to translate most of the sentence. “‘What you offer… is to be unaware when Edeke strikes from afar… only to notice by the time it reaches you. Pay mind to your other senses to be victorious…’”

“Passable translation,” Takato added, “but you know, what’s on the door is a lot more straightforward. It literally translates to ‘an offering in order to pass.’ It's all to appease the bastard deities that organized this game.”

Chris studied the handprint on the slant gravestone and then whipped back to Takato. “This isn’t a game.”

“Oh, but to them it is.” Takato looked at Chris, eyes narrowing. “Did you ever stop to think what the Tombstone Trials actually are? What the hell are these Relics we use all willy-nilly or the Nether-Mums we put on ourselves?”

“I know the story.”

“We all know the story! But there’s no way that’s all there is to it.”

“What are you getting at, the whole competition is a scam? There are people who’ve won out there in the world.”

“Who’ve all reached enlightenment, I know, we’ve all heard about it. But have you ever actually met one of those people?”

“My uncle… told me about a winner he knew.”

“So, the answer is ‘no’.”

Chris scoffed.

“And then… these Relics. All based on creatures from legends. Does that mean they contain the souls of the actual creatures? Where does the power come from exactly?”

“You want to bring up… the Memento Mori, right?”

“Does your partner know about it?”

“No… I couldn’t tell her about it. There’s not much we know about it.”

“But as soon as she starts hearing the voice of the Relic in her head… there’s not much you can do about it at that point,” Takato said. “We’re fighting with weapons that can completely take us over. Just what the hell are we doing?”

“I… don’t think Tayte would succumb to it,” Chris said and looked off to the side.

###

Tatsunori’s left arm moved on its own.

Lemme help, the icy voice said in her head.

Tatsunori gaped at her left hand as it tightened its grip on the Relic and stretched back.

It swung forward; launching a devastating slash.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Tayte hit the ground, barely dodging the swift cold slash, and it continued on behind her.

An alarming creak called for Tayte’s attention, and she spun backward on her toes. The sound of the creaks multiplied and rose to a crescendo.

The trees fell towards her.

Tayte shot out a gust from her Relic propelling herself forward as the trees crashed down.

It seemed that time froze for Tatsunori as she stared at her now frantic opponent pushing herself out of harm’s way. Tayte failed to realize she was literally diving headfirst into yet another perilous situation. Her head was still facing backwards at the trees as she glided through the air towards Tatsunori.

There were a myriad of different ways Tatsunori could punish her vulnerable opponent, like a child at a buffet she relished over the thought of the many choices she had. She settled for a satisfying option and pulled her head back.

With impeccable timing, Tatsunori bashed her forehead into the top of Tayte’s skull, and she hit the ground with a meteor-like impact, digging her face deep within the dirt, and dropping her Relic.

An aggressive blizzard howled in Tatsunori’s head, as the icy voice started to speak once again.

Let’s work together. Let me fully take over.

“No, stop it!” Tatsunori yelled, shaking her head. “I’m doing this on my own! Just let me fight her!”

I’m trying to help you!

“I don’t want your help!” Tatsunori grabbed a handful of Tayte’s hair and pulled her up, revealing her bloody forehead and a pained expression that put a smile on Tatsunori’s face. “Now, that’s what I like to see! Still bored, Enberg—?”

Tayte launched a kick right into the side of Tatsunori’s torso.

Tatsunori let go and screamed as the fresh wound twinged and squirted out more blood. “You bitch!” She punched Tayte and shoved her back.

Just do it. Do it again.

For once, Tatsunori was on the same page as the icy voice and resorted to doing that again. Using nothing but her mind she summoned the tiny, thin snowflakes again, polluting air with hundreds of them, and had them spin rapidly like buzzsaws.

Without any chance of seeing them, Tayte ran right through a wall of them. Marking more cuts onto her face and adding some onto her neck and hands, slowing her down.

Let’s freeze her.

Tatsunori drew in a deep breath and blew.

Like a figure skater, Tayte bent back till she was touching the grass and slid on one knee, having the ice breath blast over her. Tayte unfurled her legs, wrapped them around Tatsunori’s legs, and pushed to the side.

Tatsunori slammed onto the grass with her cheek. While on the ground she threw a punch at Tayte—she blocked and kicked back at her wound.

“Fuck!” Tatsunori shouted and started swinging back at Tayte.

As they lied on the ground on their side, they traded violent blows, blocked each other’s moves, and pulled off reversals.

Simultaneously, they extended a kick and were pushed away from each other, sliding across the grass.

Tatsunori back rolled to her feet just as quickly Tayte did.

Then her chest closed up making her hunch over and grip onto it.

If you’d let me take over you wouldn’t have to worry about exhaustion when you try to freeze.

Tatsunori ignored the voice and looked at her opponent — Tayte stayed put with a focused expression. She was in deep thought.

It didn’t matter how much thinking she put in or how cautious she was.

She isn’t going to be able to get up after this. Tatsunori smirked and started her next attack, she summoned the snowflakes, moved them with her mind, and had a number of them insert themselves into the fingernails of her opponent’s right hand.

They sharpened and they spun.

For the first time, Tatsunori heard Tayte produce something that was akin to crying and panic.

She convulsed and rolled across the ground, shrieking in agony.

Tatsunori dialed up the intensity, making the snowflakes spin even faster.

Tayte kicked her legs up and down as her shrieks grew with more terror and pain as blood poured out from her fingernails.

“How’s that, Enberg?” Tatsunori asked smugly. “Huh! Try to forget about that!”

“Kamaitachi,” Tayte called with her voice breaking, and pulled out the Relic from her chest with her good hand. She looked at Tatsunori for a moment with watery eyes. While holding onto the end of the scythe, she started to spin. A ghostly white wind circled around her feet and slowly increased in radius.

“I can do that, too, you know!” Tatsunori shouted and then started to spin, collecting an icy gale of wind around her feet, increasing in radius as well.

“Saishū-tekina-kaze—!” Tayte started.

“Naginatajutsu Yuki—!”Tatsunori interrupted.

“Saikuron-hakai!”

“Shi no kōri tatsumaki!”

Monstrous whirlwinds arose around the girls, reaching extreme heights. Tayte’s white cyclone resembled that of giant spinning blades and Tatsunori’s blue arctic typhoon shot off chunks of hail in every direction and copious amounts of snow.

Rocks, trees, and small plants were plucked up by the storm and sliced, frozen solid, and crushed by the supernatural winds themselves.

The winds battled each other continuously.

I can’t lose, Tatsunori said to herself as she spun inside her blizzard, her mind swiveling back to Okinawa…

###

Not again.

Tatsunori fell back onto the tatami mat.

“That’s enough!” Sensei shouted and then declared the winner.

It wasn’t to anybody’s surprise.

Tatsunori rose to her feet as the crowd applauded and cheered for the foreigner. She exchanged bows with Tayte and took off.

She walked facing the mat, keeping her headgear on. At first, she was convinced it was luck that she was put up against Tayte in the first round. Now, she realized it was too much wishful thinking, believing she could eliminate the dojo’s trump card before the quarter-finals.

Tatsunori gained the courage to lift her head and scan the crowd of seated spectators—her tall mother, Reiko, arose, put down the camera in her hand, and approached Tatsunori.

Tatsunori stopped before her mother. “I want to go home,” she mumbled.

Reiko brushed her arm. “You did good. Are you sure you don’t want to watch the rest?”

Tatsunori looked back at Tayte over her shoulder. She ambled away without taking a single look back. Was the fight difficult for her in any way? Was she even going to remember it before nightfall?

“Please, I just want to go home.”

“Okay, Honoka.”

Tatsunori froze in place.

Reiko started looking around. “Now, where’s my purse…” She stopped, looking to her side. “Oh, I left it on my seat!” she said, laughing, and walked towards it.

She returned and Tatsunori still hadn’t moved a muscle. “Okay, go wash up, and we’ll get going.”

“That’s… not my name,” Tatsunori said.

Reiko stared vacantly, and then she flashed a smile. “Right! Sorry! My head’s all over the place today. I don't know what’s going with me.”

The symptoms only got more aggressive from there.

Tatsunori heard about Tayte’s predictable victory in the inner dojo tournament from her home and over the next couple of days news reached her about Tayte winning the national tournament. Another year guarantees that nobody will forget the name of the petite foreigner with graying hair.

She had to train harder if she’d ever hope to reach her level.

To get Tayte to notice her.

To see her.

To look at her.

###

Is she thinking about me, too? Tatsunori thought as she continued to spin, the intense blizzard surrounding her.

As she spins, does she wonder what I am thinking about, too? Do I pop into her head?

###

Tatsunori bolted out of the taxi cab and into Okinawa Naha Airport. She cut and slalomed her way through crowds as she scanned the packed area, trying not to think about the significant amount of allowance she spent just for the trip.

She spotted the distinct bundle of hair in an Okashi Goten. Tatsunori careened her way into the shop and skidded to a halt before her.

“Enberg!” She shouted.

The whole shop froze and glared at her.

Tayte and her slender mother, Edith, stared at her.

“Oh, this must be one of your dojo friends,” Edith said to Tayte in English. “She must be here to say goodbye, I’ll give you girls some privacy.” Edith walked off and browsed through some sweet potato tarts.

The bystanders pulled their glare away from Tatsunori.

“What do you want?” Tayte asked Tatsunori in her slightly broken Japanese.

“I… just want you to know. I am going to become better, and I am going to challenge you again when you return next summer. In fact… I am going to keep challenging you until I win!”

“Okay,” Tayte said, nonchalant. “What was your name again?”

Tatsunori made a fist.

Her eyes were facing in her direction, but were unfocused as if she was looking through her, instead of at her.

How can I make her see me? Tatsunori asked herself.

I need to make her look at me…

###

Don’t let her forget this time, Tatsunori said in her head as she spun in the blizzard. Her typhoon grew even larger, outsizing Tayte’s.

Even if she wins. Even if I die.

The icy typhoon consumed Tayte’s white whirlwind.

Make sure she doesn’t forget who you are.

A slideshow of all the dojo matches she lost against Tayte over the years played in her head. As she spun it was all she could see. Even the sounds of wooden staff hitting her armor rapidly reverberated from the past and bested the roars of the cold winds surrounding her in the present.

She can’t forget this time.

Over the years, as she grew taller, the distance between their skills grew wider. It had a domino effect. The anger grew. The envy grew. The desire to surpass grew. The desire to be seen grew.

Four whole years and she never won a fight.

If only she beat her at that last fight they had in Tokyo.

Things might’ve been different…

The mega snowstorm ravaged the forest continuing to increase without showing any signs of slowing down.