The remnants of the battle clung to the air like a heavy fog. Yeon-ah, the woman, and Juna had survived, but their bodies were pushed to their limits. The ruins around them were eerily quiet, the silence unsettling. Yeon-ah's chest rose and fell with each labored breath, her mind still racing from the fight, though the adrenaline had long since left her veins.
They had found refuge in the remains of a building, its cracked walls and decaying ceiling offering little protection, but it was the best they could manage. They were safe for now, but Yeon-ah knew better than to trust safety in a world like this. The woman, as always, was composed but visibly weary, while Juna sat against the wall, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly into the distance.
Yeon-ah's grip on her sword loosened as she scanned the dark room, her sharp yellow eyes sweeping over the debris. Her navy-blue hair, long and heavy from sweat and dirt, clung to her neck and shoulders. She felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her body, but her mind refused to rest. Her instincts, honed by endless battles, told her to remain on guard.
"We need to rest," the woman said in her usual calm but firm tone. She sat down carefully near the corner, checking the wound on her arm. The bandage was soaked with blood, but she didn't flinch. She never did. The woman's resilience was something Yeon-ah admired, even though she hardly knew anything about her.
Juna's small frame shook slightly as she exhaled, her fear palpable even in the dim light. She hadn't said much since the battle ended, her usual composure shattered by the onslaught they had barely survived.
"I'll take the first watch," Yeon-ah said, her voice steady despite the weariness that tugged at her. The woman nodded, a silent acknowledgment of Yeon-ah's offer, and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes but never truly letting her guard down.
Yeon-ah stood at the entrance of the room, her hand still resting on the hilt of her sword. The shadows stretched long across the cracked floor, the only sound coming from the faint drip of water deeper in the building. After ensuring there were no immediate threats, she ventured into the darkness, following the sound of the dripping water.
She found herself in a small side room, where an old faucet was still functioning, the water trickling steadily from the rusted pipe. For a moment, she stared at the water, the coldness of it drawing her attention. The grime and blood clung to her skin, and her muscles screamed for relief.
Her yellow eyes flicked back toward the main room where the woman and Juna rested. It was safe enough for now. She could allow herself a moment to wash away the day's battle.
With a deep breath, Yeon-ah placed her sword within reach and began to strip off her torn and bloodied clothes. Her fingers worked slowly, stiff from fatigue and tension. The cold air prickled her bare skin, sending a chill through her as she stood under the faucet. The water was icy, but it was exactly what she needed.
The water poured over her, washing away the blood and dirt that clung to her pale skin. Her body, though slim and delicate in appearance, was strong—built not by choice but by necessity. The faint lines of her muscles, developed through survival and constant movement, traced along her arms and abdomen, though she lacked the bulkier build of her mentor. Instead, her body was lithe, made for speed and agility.
As the cold water flowed over her, she closed her eyes, tilting her head back to let it cascade down her long, navy hair. The weight of the water pulling her hair against her back felt soothing, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. Her breathing slowed as her body adjusted to the temperature, the sensation of the water cleansing not just her skin but the turmoil in her mind.
She ran her hands over her arms, across her shoulders, and down to her waist, the cold touch of her fingers on her own skin strange yet comforting. Her body, so often tensed and ready for battle, finally felt some semblance of calm, though the ever-present weight of survival remained.
Her fingers brushed over the faint lines of her abs, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Yeon-ah allowed herself to relax. It was a fleeting moment, but in this world, moments like these were rare. Her eyes caught the reflection of herself in a broken shard of mirror that leaned against the wall. Her golden eyes stared back at her, tired but still burning with a fierce determination. Her skin, now cleansed of the grime and blood, was pale, contrasting with the long, dark strands of her hair that clung to her back.
The scars that marred her otherwise smooth skin were reminders of every battle she had fought, every near-death experience she had endured. Each one told a story, though Yeon-ah never lingered on them for long. She couldn't afford to.
She exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cool air. Her fingers trailed lightly over her waist, tracing the contours of her form as the water continued to fall, the sensation calming yet foreign. It was rare for her to touch her own skin without the urgency of battle or the weight of injury. The feeling of simply being alive, of being in her own body without the immediate threat of death, was almost unfamiliar.
But as always, the moment couldn't last.
She wiped the water from her face and pushed her wet hair back, snapping herself out of the brief respite. There was no time for indulgence, not in this world. With a sigh, she stepped away from the faucet, the cold water no longer enough to distract her from the constant need for vigilance.
Yeon-ah dressed quickly, the rough fabric of her clothes rubbing against her freshly washed skin. She could still feel the tension in her muscles, though the cold water had soothed some of the worst of it. Her sword was back in her hand before she even realized it, the familiar weight of it grounding her once more.
As she returned to the main room, she saw the woman still resting against the wall, her breathing slow but controlled. Juna had fallen into a fitful sleep, her body curled up tightly as if trying to make herself as small as possible.
Yeon-ah took her place at the entrance of the room, her yellow eyes scanning the shadows once again. The world outside was still and quiet, but Yeon-ah knew better than to trust silence. In this world, silence often meant something was coming.
She glanced briefly at the woman, wondering if she'd ever learn more about her beyond her stoic demeanor and unflinching resolve. There was something about her—something Yeon-ah couldn't quite place— but asking questions in a world like this often led to more danger than answers.
Juna stirred slightly in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent before falling still again. Yeon-ah's gaze softened for a moment as she watched the younger girl. She hadn't known Juna for long, but there was something about her vulnerability that struck a chord with Yeon-ah.
But there was no room for weakness, no room for vulnerability in a world like this. The only thing that mattered was survival.
And as long as they were alive, Yeon-ah would keep watch.