Chapter Text
The clash of netherite against netherite rang through the air as Wemmbu parried another one of Flame's strikes, his boots skidding against the mesa outside the massive base. Sweat dripped down his temple as he dodged left, narrowly avoiding a critical hit that would've sent him straight to his death.
"Stand still!" Flamefrags called out, that familiar competitive grin plastered across his face as he swung again.
"Yeah, because that's exactly what I'm gonna do," Wemmbu shot back, breathless but defiant. He managed to land a hit on Flame's shoulder, the satisfying thunk of contact making him smirk. "Not my fault you can't aim—"
The world lurched.
It wasn't pain—it was something far stranger. A sudden weightlessness, like the ground was rushing up to meet him except it wasn't, he was falling toward it. His sword clattered from his grip, suddenly far too heavy, and his armor felt like it was swallowing him whole. The sand that had been beneath his feet now towered like a temple around him.
"What the—"
Flamefrags stood frozen mid-swing, his sword still raised, his expression shifting from battle-ready focus to complete and utter shock. His eyes were wide, tracking downward to where Wemmbu now stood at.
"Bro, did you just—" Flame lowered his sword slowly, blinking several times like he was trying to reboot his brain. "Did you just shrink?"
"I—what?!" Wemmbu spun around, taking in his new perspective of the world. Everything was massive. Flame's boots were like buildings. "No, no, no, this isn't—how did—"
He needed to run. That was the only coherent thought in his mind. Whatever had just happened, being tiny and vulnerable in front of his rival was absolutely not the position he wanted to be in. Wemmbu bolted, his legs pumping as fast as they could carry him through what was now essentially a tomb of sand.
"Hey, wait—bro!" Flame's voice boomed above him, and the ground trembled with his footsteps.
Wemmbu didn't wait. He pushed forward, ducking under a rock that brushed his shoulder, trying to orient himself toward... anywhere else. Maybe if he could get to the mesa hills, or find some kind of cover, he could figure out what kind of potion effect or curse had hit him and—
The world went dark.
Not completely dark, but shadowed, and suddenly he was rising into the air at a speed that made his stomach drop. Fingers—massive fingers—had closed around the back of his shirt, lifting him up like he weighed nothing at all. Because, well, he probably didn't. Not to Flame, anyway.
"Gotcha," Flame said, and there was an undercurrent of amusement in his voice that made Wemmbu's face heat up with fury.
"Put me DOWN!" Wemmbu immediately twisted in the grip, reaching back to claw at the fingers holding him. His nails scraped uselessly against Flame's skin, barely even leaving a mark. "Flame, I swear to—let GO!"
"Ow—hey, bro!" Flame adjusted his grip, holding Wemmbu a bit further from his hand. "Stop scratching!"
"Stop holding me like a—a—" Wemmbu kicked his legs viciously, trying to make contact with anything.
"You kind of are a scruffed cat right now, bro," Flame pointed out, bringing him closer to his face. Those eyes under blindfold were definitely sparkling with barely-contained laughter. "A very angry, tiny cat."
"I am NOT—" Wemmbu lunged forward as far as the grip on his shirt would allow and managed to sink his teeth into the side of Flame's index finger.
"OW!" Flame jerked his hand back slightly, and Wemmbu felt a surge of vindictive satisfaction. His demon fangs did something for once. "Bro, did you just bite me?!"
"Yeah, and I'll do it again!" Wemmbu spat, glaring up at him. "Put me down or I'll—"
"You'll what? Bite me to death?" Despite his words, Flame was readjusting his hold, clearly trying to keep his fingers away from Wemmbu's mouth. "Dude, calm down—"
"Don't tell me to calm down!" Wemmbu managed to get one arm free and immediately went for Flame's thumb, scratching at it with renewed vigor. "This is YOUR fault somehow, I know it!"
"How is this MY fault, bro?! You're the one who shrunk!"
"You probably—probably triggered some trap or—or curse!" Wemmbu was grasping at straws and he knew it, but he was too angry and humiliated to care. He twisted hard, trying to wriggle free, and managed to get his other arm loose. He immediately grabbed onto Flame's index finger with both hands and bit down again, harder this time.
"Okay, OKAY!" Flame started walking quickly toward his base, trying to keep Wemmbu at arm's length while the player essentially tried to maul his hand. "You're really committed to this whole feral thing, huh?"
"Let me GO and I'll stop!"
"Yeah, so you can get eaten by a spider? Not happening, bro." Flame shouldered open his base door, moving through the short halls with purpose while Wemmbu continued his assault. "Jeez, You're like an angry piranha."
"I'll show you PIRANHA—" Wemmbu dug his nails in as hard as he could, leaving little red crescents in Flame's skin.
"For someone so small, you're surprisingly violent," Flame observed innocently, finally reaching his bedroom. Without ceremony, he deposited Wemmbu onto the bed with a gentle toss.
Wemmbu landed with a fwump on the blanket, immediately rolling and springing to his feet, fists clenched, scowling.
Flame held up his hands, examining the bite marks and scratch marks littering his fingers. "Bro, you actually drew blood. I'm impressed."
"Good, you chungus!" Wemmbu was practically bouncing on his feet, adrenaline still coursing through him. The bed dipped as Flame sat down, and Wemmbu had to adjust his stance to keep from tumbling forward.
Flame reached toward him, and Wemmbu immediately lunged, trying to bite his finger again. Flame pulled back just in time. "Seriously, bro? Still?"
"You grabbed me! You—you manhandled me! You—" Wemmbu's tirade was interrupted when Flame's finger came back and gently but firmly pushed against his chest, nudging him backward. He stumbled, catching himself. "Hey!"
"You done?" Flame asked, one eyebrow raised.
Wemmbu growled at Flame, fangs shining, and this time when Flame's finger came to stop him, he grabbed onto it with both arms and bit down on the fingertip.
"Ow—okay, you know what, bro?" Flame let him hang there for a second, dangling from his finger like a very determined tiny menace. "Get it out of your system."
Wemmbu bit down harder, then realized Flame was just... letting him. Which took all the satisfaction out of it. He released his bite with a frustrated growl. "This isn't fair."
"Life isn't fair." Flame lowered his finger, and Wemmbu reluctantly let go, dropping the few inches back to the blanket. "You done attacking me now?"
"Maybe," Wemmbu muttered, crossing his arms. His heart was still racing, and he could feel the cuts and scrapes all over his body starting to sting now that the adrenaline was fading. "Depends on what you do next."
"Well, what I was trying to do before you went feral on me," Flame said, reaching over to grab supplies from a nearby chest, "was patch you up, bro. You're bleeding all over my bed. I can’t fight you if you’re actively dying."
Wemmbu looked down at himself properly for the first time. His armor had been abandoned and dropped on the floor when he'd shrunk, and his clothes were torn. There were scrapes on his arms, a cut on his cheek, blood seeping through his torn pants at the knee. "Oh."
"Yeah. 'Oh.'" Flame dampened a cloth with water. "So are you going to let me help, or are you going to bite me again?"
"I'm thinking about it," Wemmbu said, but he didn't move away when Flame reached toward him with the cloth. He did, however, tense up, ready to strike if needed.
The cloth touched his cheek, dabbing gently at the cut there. It stung, and Wemmbu hissed through his teeth.
"Told you it would sting, bro," Flame said, his voice softer now. "Hold still."
"I am holding still," Wemmbu grumbled, though his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Every instinct was screaming at him to keep fighting, to not show weakness, but logically he knew he needed this. The cuts weren't bad, but infection was a risk.
"You're so tense you're vibrating," Flame observed, carefully cleaning the cut. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"You're my rival and enemy. We were literally just fighting."
"Yeah, and then you shrank. Fight's over, bro. That’s unfair and not fun." Flame moved to his arm, cleaning a scrape there with the same gentle attention. "Seriously, what do you think I'm going to do? Keep you in a jar?"
"You'd try."
"I mean, yeah, probably. But I'd give you a nice jar. With air holes and everything."
Despite himself, Wemmbu snorted. "You're the worst."
"And yet you're not biting me anymore, so I must be doing something right, bro." Flame finished with his arm and moved to his other one. "Though I gotta say, you've got a good bite force for someone so small. I think you actually broke skin."
"Good." Wemmbu watched as Flame worked, the movements careful and methodical. It was strange, seeing this side of him. They fought, they competed, they trash-talked—but this? This was different. "Why are you even helping me?"
Flame paused, looking at him with an expression Wemmbu couldn't quite read. "Because you're shrunk, and injured, bro. What kind of person would I be if I just left you out there?"
"My rival?"
"Your rival who isn't a complete jerk." Flame went back to cleaning the scrapes. "Besides, where's the fun in beating you when you're like this? No challenge."
“So you're just preserving your future punching bag, got it."
"Exactly, bro. See? You understand." Flame's grin was back. He moved to Wemmbu's knee, gently rolling up the torn pant leg. "This one looks worse. Stop me if I'm hurting you too much."
Wemmbu wanted to make a sarcastic comment about that, but the cloth touched his knee and he inhaled sharply through his teeth. It hurt worse than the others, probably because the cut was deeper.
"Sorry," Flame murmured, his touch becoming even gentler. "Almost done, bro."
"I can handle it," Wemmbu said, but his voice came out tighter than intended. His fingers dug into the blanket beneath him.
"I know you can. Doesn't mean you have to." Flame finished cleaning the wound. “There. Not so bad, is it?”
Before Wemmbu could answer, Flame reached out and tilted his chin up with one finger, snickering softly. Wemmbu growled at him in warning.
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?" Flame asked innocently, but there was a knowing smirk on his face. He nudged Wemmbu's shoulder with a fingertip. "Checking to make sure you're okay?"
"No—the—the touching thing!" Wemmbu grabbed the finger with both hands and shoved at it. It didn't budge even a little. "Stop treating me like a—a—"
"A tiny person who just tried to bite my fingers off?" Flame supplied helpfully. He poked Wemmbu's side lightly, making him stumble. "Sorry, can't help it, bro. You're kind of fun to mess with like this."
"I will bite you again," Wemmbu threatened, but there was less heat in it now. He was tired, the adrenaline fully worn off, and everything hurt in that dull, throbbing way that came after a fight.
"Sure you will, tough guy." Flame leaned back on his hands, looking down at Wemmbu with that insufferable expression that was half-concern, half-amusement. "So what's the plan? You gonna try to escape again, or are you going to accept that you're stuck here until we figure out what happened?"
"We?" Wemmbu looked up at him sharply. "You mean you're not going to tell anyone else about this?"
"Bro, are you kidding?" Flame snorted. "The second anyone finds out you're like this, they'll use it against both of us. You because you're vulnerable, me because I'm the one who has you.“
Wemmbu felt something unclench in his chest. He hadn't even thought about that—about how the others would react, how they'd see this as an opportunity. "Oh."
"Yeah, 'oh,'" Flame echoed. "So it's just us until you're back to normal. We'll figure this out ourselves."
"How?" Wemmbu sat down cross-legged on the blanket, exhaustion finally catching up with him. "We don't even know what caused it."
"We'll work it out, bro. Could be a potion effect, could be some weird server glitch, could be a curse." Flame shrugged. "Might just wear off on its own."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we keep trying until it does." Flame's expression was serious now. "Look, I know we're rivals and all, but I'm not going to leave you like this. We'll figure it out together."
Wemmbu studied his face, looking for any hint of deception or mockery. But Flame seemed genuine. "Together."
"Yeah, bro. Together." Flame nudged him again with a finger, lighter this time. Almost friendly. "Though you're still tiny, and I'm still going to mess with you about it."
"Of course you are," Wemmbu muttered, but he was fighting a smile. "And I'm still going to bite you."
"Wouldn't expect anything less." Flame stood up, stretching. "You hungry? I've got some food around here somewhere."
"Mhm." The mention of food made Wemmbu realize he was absolutely ravenous. Fighting took energy, and apparently shrinking did too.
"Cool, let me grab some stuff." Flame moved toward a chest across the room. "Fair warning though, bro—portions are gonna be weird for you. A whole apple is probably like... I don't know, twenty apples to you right now."
"Great. Just great." Wemmbu flopped backward on the blanket. "This is the weirdest day of my life."
"Tell me about it, bro." Flame returned with some bread and cooked chicken, breaking off small pieces. "Never thought I'd be hand-feeding my rival like a baby bird."
"You are NOT hand-feeding me!" Wemmbu sat up quickly, glaring. "Just—put it down in front of me. I can feed myself."
"Whatever you say, bro." Flame set the pieces down, and they were large from Wemmbu's perspective—the bread chunk was the size of his torso, the chicken piece even bigger. "Think you can handle that?"
"Watch me." Wemmbu grabbed the bread with both hands and took an aggressive bite out of it, maintaining eye contact the whole time.
Flame laughed, that warm, genuine laugh that made Wemmbu's chest feel easy. "There's that fighting spirit. Was worried the shrinking had mellowed you out."
"Never," Wemmbu said around his mouthful of bread. "I'm still going to kick your ass when I'm back to normal."
"Looking forward to it, bro." Flame settled back on the bed, watching as Wemmbu ate. "But until then, try not to bite me every five minutes."
"No promises." But Wemmbu was already feeling a bit better—food helped, and surprisingly, so did Flame's company. Even if he'd never admit it out loud.
They'd figure this out.
Even if Wemmbu did plan to bite him at least three more times before the day was over.
Several hours passed. The sun had set outside, casting the room in warm orange light before fading to darkness. Flame had lit some torches, and now they were just... existing in the same space. It was weird. Comfortable, but weird.
Wemmbu was sitting near Flame's hand again—he kept gravitating toward the warmth without really meaning to—and Flame was absently scrolling through his inventory, looking for anything that might give them a clue about what had happened.
"Nothing," Flame muttered. "No weird potion effects, no curses showing up, nothing, bro."
"Fantastic." Wemmbu leaned against Flame's thumb, too tired to maintain his aggressive posture anymore. "So we just... wait?"
"Looks like it." Flame's thumb shifted, gently brushing against Wemmbu's back. "You doing okay down there?"
"Define 'okay.'" Wemmbu looked up at him. "I'm six inches tall, covered in bandages, and using your thumb as a backrest. This is the opposite of okay."
"But you're alive, fed, and safe," Flame pointed out. "Could be worse, bro."
"Could be better."
"True." Flame was quiet for a moment, then: "For what it's worth, you really did get some good hits in during our fight. Before the shrinking thing."
Wemmbu felt that surge of pride again. "I was winning."
"You were holding your own with that stupid mace of yours," Flame corrected. "But yeah, you were doing good, bro."
"Next time I'll win."
"We'll see about that." Flame's finger came down to gently nudge Wemmbu's head. "But I believe you'll try."
Wemmbu grabbed the finger and bit it—gently this time, barely any pressure. More of a reminder than an attack.
"There it is," Flame said, sounding amused. "Was wondering when you'd bite me again."
"I have a quota to meet," Wemmbu said, releasing the finger. "Can't let you forget I'm still dangerous."
"Oh, I'm terrified.”
Wemmbu lunged forward, grabbed Flame's index finger with both arms, and bit down properly this time. Flame just laughed, warm and loud in the quiet room.
And despite everything—despite the humiliation and confusion and sheer absurdity of it all—Wemmbu found himself snickering too.