Chapter 17: What Dreams May Come
They stood on battlefields of all shapes and sizes, surrounded by bodies both human and of other species. But no matter in which time, on what world, with swords or spears or knives or magic or technology, for what cause, some elements would be shared.
Steel ringing out as blades clashed against one another. Explosions erupting that blew bodies across the area. Fluids which sustained life flying through the air, accompanied by smoke, ashes and cries of the living. Many soon to be dead.
Such were the lives of these characters known as "Heroic Spirits," beings forged in trials and struggles, found at the very heart of these battlefields, and then made into legends passed down throughout their worlds' generations. Molded within the Throne of Heroes as figures which shaped the multiverse around them.
And yet, warriors are not shaped by war alone. For each one, there are certain moments outside of battle that molded their essence just as much as when they fought. Tiny, easy-to-miss moments that offered a glimpse of who these people truly were…
"What, do you even realize what you're saying?!"
"I do," he replied coolly. It wasn't the first time he'd seen Obito's outrage, after all. Granted, he had… fairly good reasons for it now. But he didn't let it dissuade him. So, he repeated, "The two of us will see the mission through."
"And Rin?" Obito demanded. "What about Rin?!"
"Rin's secondary right now. The enemy captured her to learn about our plans. They're not going to kill her immediately." While they spoke, he continued to focus on the battle-torn forest around them. The duo that had attacked the team wore headbands bearing the Hidden Stone Village's symbol. Same as the one Minato-sensei had taken care of before they'd split up. Undoubtably part of the same group. Maybe there were even more awaiting them…
"Besides that, Rin's luckily a medical ninja, too," he continued. "He may be a prisoner, but they'll keep her in well enough shape that she could treat the enemy's injuries." Logical reasoning that even Obito could realize if he'd just calm down and think for five seconds.
…Well, maybe twenty in Obito's case. "The bigger concern is the enemy figuring out our target. If they get ahold of the information, they'll immediately take steps to guard that bridge. If that happens, we can't complete the mission."
But of course, Mister Member-of-the-Elite-Uchiha still didn't see the bigger picture. "Nothing you're saying takes Rin's safety into account! What if those two were just a pair of stupid grunts, what'll happen to her then?!" A possibility, sure, but considering they'd successfully ambushed the trio and captured Rin, unlikely. "Right now, rescuing Rin is more important than completing the mission!"
There that stupid sentiment of his was again. "As shinobi, completing the mission takes priority, even if it sometimes means sacrificing one's comrades. That's a rule." One he could recite in his sleep. "If the mission fails, this war will stretch on, and even more sacrifices may have to be made."
"You're just speculating now! Is it really that easy for you to throw away the life of a comrade who's been through thick and thin beside you?!" Obito, always talking big, always late for every meeting, always neglecting the rules for the dumbest of reasons… "Rin saved our lives with her medical ninjutsu every time you or me got injured! If it weren't for her, we'd have died a long time ago!" …Always so passionate about these things.
"…That was Rin's duty."
He fell to the ground, grass stirring from his impact. He raised his left hand in defense, his jaw aching a bit.
His subordinate bent towards him, fists shaking by his sides. The next punch wouldn't touch him, though. "I hate you!"
"It doesn't matter if you hate me. I'm the captain, and you must follow my instructions." He pushed himself to a sitting position, rubbing his masked jaw. …Huh. Obito could throw a good punch when he put his mind to it. "Regardless of what happens, if the squad is scattered, one person makes all decisions. That's why there's the rule of all squad members needing to follow their captain's instructions." But a good punch only took you so far in the shinobi world. "Obito, you don't have any strength. That's why I'm this squad's captain-"
He was hauled to his feet by the hand pulling on the straps of his blade's sheathe. Well, not his blade, his-
"In that case, why aren't you going to save Rin?!" For once, he didn't mind Obito's idiocy so much. "You're the only one strong enough to save our comrade, right?!" Even if it was exhausting.
He stared without blinking into those boneheaded eyes behind those goggles. "If you can't keep your emotions in check and then fail a crucial mission, you'll end up regretting it. That's why the rule was made that all shinobi have to suppress their emotions. Even you should understand that."
Obito trembled where he stood before leaning away, his face scrunching up like it always did when he was about to start crying. "Rin…" But what came from him weren't tears but words. "Rin gave you a medical pack because she was worried about you. She even sewed a charm into it!" Those eyes opened again to stare almost pleadingly at him.
Was he really incapable of understanding any logic? "Medical packs and medical jutsu are meant to increase the success rate of missions. That's the brilliant system of the Hidden Leaf Village. But I thought I told you yesterday, 'if you accept unnecessary things, they'll just end up excess baggage.'"
Obito took a step away from him but wouldn't let go. "Excess baggage…?" he repeated, his shock plain to say.
He nodded once before continuing. "The most important thing for a shinobi is to be a tool that completes the mission. Emotions are unimportant."
The grip on his strap tightened a bit. "Are you serious?" Obito whispered. When he didn't get an answer, he asked even louder, "Is that really what you think?"
That question… stirred something in him. An irregularity. Before he knew it, his stare broke away from Obito's as an image of his father appeared before his mind. Back turned to him, shoulders squared with one asymmetrical short sleeve poking out from the left arm of his jacket, the silver hair he'd inherited tied into a ponytail that reached the sword strapped to his back, the sword responsible for his nickname and fame, leaves fluttering around him…
Then he returned to the morning where he'd walked into that room and registered the waft of iron in the air. Once again, he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything except stare at the body curled up on the floor, head facing away from him so all he could see was his back. Utterly broken.
He closed his eyes to the scene and opened them again to return Obito's glare. "Yes, it is." He'd made a vow then. A vow not to repeat mistakes, to always follow the rules of the shinobi. To always protect his home… no matter the cost.
Obito, however, only scowled at him in disgust. "Alright…" He still didn't understand. How could he? "We've been like oil and water from the start." He finally let go of his strap. "Then I'll just save Rin myself!" With that, he turned away and began to storm off.
What a knucklehead… "You don't understand a thing!" He called after him, irritation creeping into his voice. Why? He'd always been a sentimental idiot, following up his own childish ideals. One glance back at that crumpled form, and he knew where that got people. "What do you think happens to those who break the rules?"
His teammate stopped; was something starting to sink in? Yeah right, more likely he was going to make another stupid-
"I believe that the White Fang was a true hero."
…What did he just say?
"You're right." Even as his thoughts were stumbling over himself, Obito kept talking. And for some reason, his ears latched onto that moron's words "Those who abandon the mission are trash…" Obito's head turned back, a dark eye glaring at him with a resolve he'd never seen before.
"…But those who abandon their comrades are even worse trash!"
If he couldn't move before, that declaration pinned him at his spot. "So, if I'm that kind of trash, then I'll just break the rules! And if that's not what it means to be a true shinobi," Obito turned away from him and continued without wavering, "then I'll crush that idea of a shinobi."
He didn't know what to say… so he closed his eyes and walked away from his comrades.
A choice he reconsidered minutes later… but would regret for the rest of his life.
"Name?"
The inquiry took him aback. Why, he wasn't even sure. Technically, he did have a designation, "D-16," so he could always give it to this smaller bot sitting lazily at the crudely constructed desk. Most likely made from leftover ores too poor in value for Kaon's refineries. Picked away from the better parts, which higher castes would then enjoy later. Left behind.
He shut his optics, barely holding back the grunt. He'd left the mines precisely because he was sick of these persisting thoughts. His colleagues had often conversed over the gladiator pits, placing bets and arguing over which was the fiercest fighter around. Soundwave, Brawl, Overlord… he'd heard those names regularly in between swinging his pickaxe.
Well, he'd always been a big one among Cybertronians, and his strength had only been forged in those blasted caverns. His decision to sign up for the pits' next auditions had drawn little surprise from the others; toil away digging up Energon and other minerals until your Spark gave out, or smash other bots to pieces in an arena, thousands cheering around you before you get crushed yourself.
Those were the only options for living in Kaon. And he'd dug enough for a lifetime.
He therefore had nothing to stop him from giving his name… except it wouldn't come out. Was it a glitch in his voice box? Something in his processor? Why was it that the more he tried to say "D-16," the further it drifted away from him?
D-16… A decent enough name… for a droid. A soulless machine like a crane or drill, manned by others, having no individuality of its own.
Wasn't this precisely the reason he had turned his back on that section? Hadn't he tired of letting others decide his place on Cybertron, of being just another dull cog in a grander machine?
"Hey, your audio receptors not working or something?" The employee's bark cut through his musings. "I want your name!"
Yes, this was why he had come here. To carve out a new path for himself, to define his own place on this planet. To seek out the greater fate that surely awaited him. "D-16," hah! That "name" was nothing more than a shackle binding him to the darkness of the mines. No, better to leave it behind and take on a new name.
…But then, what should it be? Any more waiting, and this little fool would probably stick him with a random one just to get on with his mundanity, and that wouldn't do. This was to be his life now, and he would decide both it and his name for himself. His thoughts drifted back to all the stories he'd been told, all those who had been famous throughout Cybertron's history, straight back to the Thirteen original Primes themselves before they'd fallen-
Fallen. Yes… But even that which had fallen could surely rise again.
Thus, he gazed levelly down at the bot whose optics widened in shock at his answer. His name, now and forever (…or so he had thought): "Megatronus.
"I am Megatronus."
She watched with never-ending glee as the little beads of energy danced about her, leaving green trails in their wake. Her tiny fingers weaved through one of them in wonder at how tangible it felt. The magik prickled against her skin, making her giggle even as she kept a rapt eye on how all the beads converged into a single point above her before bursting into bright sparkles.
A giggle not her own but all too familiar to her made her look joyfully up to the one who had made it and this wondrous show. "I take it you enjoyed the spectacle?" She nodded enthusiastically while Mother scooped her up in one arm. The other waved to the side, and the emerald dots in turn flowed back together, almost looking like a solid rod for one moment before they shot off into the horizon. Edenia's sun was beginning to set, and for just a second, it looked bright green under Mother's magik.
Mother stroked her hair so gently she was beginning to grow sleepy, but she still paid attention when she began to speak. "Yes, magik can certainly be a wonderful thing, dear. It aids us in nourishing our crops, treating the sick and keeping our realm safe. But it can just as easily be used to inflict harm or take a life as it can save one." She felt her chin being nudged upwards, and her eyes were staring into hers. "One cannot merely admire magik, one must also respect it and understand its nature if one wishes to truly wield it.
"And no matter how much you grow to master your gifts, what must you always remember?"
"To use them well and for what my heart tells me is right," she answered with as serious an expression she could manage. It didn't seem to have been a success, judging from the grin that spread across Mother's face. Seeing that made her pout, disappointed in herself.
Then she practically melted into Mother's embrace. "Correct, my little gemstone. You're going to shine brightly one day." She'd have pulled herself free upon hearing that embarrassing nickname… if Mother hadn't started stroking little circles into her back.
They remained holding each other like that for a little longer, then she heard, "Jade!" She turned about in her mother's arms to see three people heading towards them, two adults and-
"Kitana!" She slipped free and ran as her blue-dressed sister-not-in-blood-but-in-bond did, the two meeting in the middle for a tight hug as King Jerrod, Queen Sindel and Mother watched them.
If only she had known then that her home would become assimilated into Outworld a year later. Or that she would soon never see her mother again.
Once out of that unseemly cave, he drew in a long breath of clean, Troll-free air and released it. Much better. "Bilbo." He then walked over to the one Hobbit, conversing with Nori but still a noticeable distance from his fellow Company members despite his clever thinking last night. No doubt Thorin was contributing to this distance.
As Bilbo turned to him with an inquisitive sound escaping him, he held out the small blade his staff had found amidst the Troll hoard. "Here, this is about your size."
Bilbo accepted it with visible tentativeness; it was the first time he'd ever held a sword that wasn't a toy. It didn't take long for him to glance up and wearily say, "I can't take this."
"The blade is of Elvish make," he explained patiently, "which means it will glow blue when Orcs or Goblins are nearby." Just like the sword he now carried by his own waist. Such armaments were too useful to be simply left behind on their journey, no matter what Thorin believed.
"I…" But Bilbo took one glance to the gruff Dwarves, all accustomed to some extent to battle, and leaned in closer to whisper, "I-I have never used a sword in my life."
"And I hope you never have to," was his answer. A hope he carried for every innocent soul out there, regardless of their race. Sadly, Middle-Earth was a land where that hope could not always come to pass. And in this case, he had nudged Bilbo Baggins into stepping out of his door and joining this adventure. The least he could do was make sure he was not defenseless.
"But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one."
"…Where the hell are you going?"
He paused mid-step and looked over his right shoulder (Yachiru was hanging tightly onto his left) to the bald guy that had picked a fight with Yachiru. "Oh, you're still breathing, huh?" he muttered as the battered moron tried to push himself off the ground. He was pretty sure that last swing was a finisher, though. Best fight he'd had in a while, too…
"Who do you fucking think you are?!" Blood trickled from all those cuts he'd given him, his sword (a zanpakutō?) was busted, too, but Bald Guy hadn't lost the fire in his eyes. "Why haven't you finished me off yet? You beat me, so kill me!"
Oh, brother. "Sorry, but I don't give a rat's ass about guys who can't fight back. And I've got zero obligation to finish you off." Yachiru the little twerp was giving him a weird look now, probably wanted candy or something.
"Don't screw with me, you bastard!" And Bald Guy still didn't get the message. "I've got my pride, so hurry up and kill me!"
Pride? That's what he was bummed about? Something about Bald Guy pissed him off, and he didn't know what, but the next thing he knew, he'd grabbed the dumbass's shirt and hauled him up. "Who's the one screwing around here?" He growled into that hairless face. "If you really like fighting that much, then quit begging me to kill you!"
Things got a little weird was he kept talking. "Don't just admit defeat and beg to die!" One second, he was yelling at this stupid fuck… "Die first before you admit defeat!"
…The next, he was lying facedown in his own blood, face hurting like hell… "If you lose but don't die, then that's 'cause you got lucky!"
…And she was standing over him, her panting loud enough that he could hear it over the heavy rain… "When that happens, think only about surviving."
"W-what?"
Oh yeah, he was trying to make a point through that shiny skull now. He was on a roll, too. "Survive, so that one day, you can kill the one who couldn't kill you!" Like he was…
Well, Bald Guy seemed to have gotten the message. Least he wasn't bitchin' about not getting killed anymore. Might as well give him another kick in the ass. "It's not like I was pullin' my punches with you," he smirked; his blood was still a little hot even now. "If I didn't kill ya, then it just means you got lucky." Then his smirk fell away. "Live. Live, and come try to kill me again!"
He then dropped Bald Guy and began to trudge away, Yachiru swinging lightly with his steps. His throat was a little hoarse from all the talking, and his limbs were itching for another clash. He was running out of good opponents out here in the districts That fight with Bald Guy was the best one he'd had in a good while, and he was walking away without so much as a scratch. Even the Hollows that crossed paths with him and Yachiru didn't last more than a couple minutes at the most.
Maybe it was finally time for him to head to the Seireitei.
"W-Wait!" Great, Bald Guy was yelling again. Hadn't he gotten the message by now? Looks like he'd run his mouth for nothing… "Your name! Tell me your name!"
…Oh. Yeah… She'd told him her name back then, too. He glared back one last time and saw a new fire burning in that idiot. One he recognized. "Kenpachi," he finally called back.
"Kenpachi from Zaraki."
Heavy hooves beat erratically against the ground. A snort escaped nostrils ferociously as the massive strain bounded at its spot. It had already knocked down two men attempting to bind it and cowed the rest into keeping their distance. They saw a maddened, violent animal.
He saw a magnificent specimen of a horse.
His father had given him one chance. If he failed, he would end this day with his pocket thirteen talents lighter. If he succeeded…
The horse finally noticed his presence and rounded in him, hot gusts blown into his nose. But he didn't let himself back down. "Easy there," he kept his voice low and steady, his palms open and out in front of him. He closed the distance one step at a time even as his new friend continued to pace. "Whoa there." He wasn't worried about the hooves; they weren't clopping near him, rather at something else.
Ahh…
He undid the clasps of his cloak and let it fall to the sand before patting the horse's broad neck. "You fear your own shadow, don't you?" He whispered into one ear, earning a gruff whinny as his answer. "Well then…" he gently nudged that head higher, receiving surprisingly little resistance. Those blue eyes glared at him before catching sight of the blue above him.
"Yes, do not fear that which is beneath you, turn your attention to what hangs above you! Turn yourself towards the great sky all around us, the horizon that stretches off into the beyond!" As he spoke, he pulled himself with all his strength onto the horse's back, his muscles tense for when he'd get thrown off.
But it never happened. Instead, the horse released a new whinny, one of excitement, and kicked its hooves upward. As though it wished to ride up to the heavens.
An elated laugh escaped him as well, and his gaze caught a glimpse of a marking on the strain's body. A branding mark… "Yes, ride with me, Bucephalus!" He entitled the steed on the spot and earned another squeal. One of approval, like a handshake between friends.
Father smiled in pride at him, and he beamed right back. This horse carrying him high had become his first comrade. And this was to be but the first of many conquests.
His fists clenched and opened repeatedly, eager for some action. The endless blathering of these fools everyone considered the High Council had escaped his interest long ago. He supposed it was of little surprise he wished to fight; this hall of theirs was smaller than the pits he had fought in, but the shouts of the countless bots making up the audience, many of which were his fellow miners and gladiators, they reminded him so much of those matches. Specifically, when he was on the cusp of victory.
And victory was indeed within sight. Oh, that old fool Halogen was elaborately dressing it up with another speech from his silly podium, but he'd basically just conceded defeat to them.
Them… He let his optics wander left to where Orion Pax stood. His fellow revolutionary, his trusted friend… his brother.
Granted, he was a bit naïve for his tastes, but that was to be expected from someone who'd spent most of his life cataloguing data at a cozy little desk. All the more reason to keep him in the dark about their cause's more… dramatic undertakings. There was admittedly little pride to be found in the bombings and attacks, but the Decepticons needed to deliver a message loud enough that all of Cybertron could hear.
Decepticon… He'd begun to take a shine for that moniker. More than "Autobot," anyway.
That word alone made his servos grind a bit, no less because it reminded him of Orion's speech just now. It had been so sickeningly idealistic, so pretentious, so, so… captivating. The words he had given, his demand to the High Council that they recognize his people and their collective desire for freedom, had not stirred nearly such acclaim from the audience as Orion's. He and his oldest followers alone had not spent an entire cycle cheering, "AUTOBOTS!" And an infinitesimal part of him couldn't help but suspect it was the real reason the High Council was giving in to a new world order.
Well, he could let it slide in light of this victory. He wouldn't deny Orion had given an impressive speech, either. The librarian has some hidden talents, it seems, he mused while exchanging a glance with his brother. His oratory ought to come in handy when I begin doing away with the caste system.
Then Halogen said something that stirred him from his future plans. "The Matrix of Leadership is on Cybertron, though it has not been seen in these many billions of cycles. According to the Archivist Alpha Trion, it may be found in these turbulent times, and if found will lead all Cybertronians through to a new age on the other side."
The Matrix… the symbol of the Primes. The greatest treasure to have ever existed on this planet. He'd had Soundwave investigate the legends around where it may've been supposedly hidden, but it had eluded even his oldest and most trusted follower. He'd briefly entertained the sobering possibility of it just being a myth. Now, though, he had received confirmation of its existence. Whoever held the Matrix would be recognized for all time as a Prime. An indisputable leader of all Cybertronians.
The Councilor leveled his gavel towards the podium where he stood, and a barely audible "Yes…" escaped him. His choosing Megatronus as his first name had been no coincidence. He had always known he was destined for greater things. He was destined to restore Cybertron to its former glory, bring about a new Golden Age that would outshine the original as-
"Orion Pax, upon you we place the quest for the Matrix of Leadership."
…What?
What had that old bot just said? It seemed time had stopped around inside the room, not a bot moved or said a thing. The silence was so deafening, when Orion asked, "Excuse me?" it felt like a boom in the sound barrier.
Orion had sounded surprised, disbelieving- Yes, of course, Orion didn't believe it! Who could believe such a preposterous thing as a mere librarian being chosen as the next Prime over him, a gladiator champion? This was to be his moment of glory, not Orion Pax's! No doubt this was just a little joke to put them off guard, and the next words would-
"The Matrix of Leadership is yours to seek, because from this moment forward," Halogen then continued as the entire High Council saluted Orion (Orion, not him)…
"You are Optimus Prime. Unite Cybertron and all of the Cybertronians. Usher in this new era you have spoken of so eloquently."
The Council chamber erupted in an all-encompassing dome of shouts in approval, surprise or anger (the latter he dully noted came largely from his fellow gladiators and miners). But it paled in comparison to the cacophony inside his own head. All the battles he had fought, the lives he had taken, the speeches he had given, this entire revolution he had set the fires for… all of it had been for this one moment, this realization of his destiny…
This was to be his ascension. The final, ultimate proof of who he was always meant to be… and it turned out to belong to someone else?! Some meek little bot from a privileged caste who only became great because he chatted with him over what he was going to do for Cybertron?!
Someone on those blasted podiums was saying something now, but his audio receptors refused to register the words. Why had he placed any faith in this Council, this collection of politicians responsible for his lot in life? How could he have expected them to do anything but impede his destiny further?
Because he convinced me to have faith in them…
His optics focused on activity before him. Ori-Opti-he had stepped up to the podium; about to thank these bureaucratic fools? Make some great proclamation of delivering peace? His treacherous vocal processor opened, and out came: "But I am not worthy of this."
Those words… those seven little words… rippling with something that burned him…
Finally, something inside him snapped. "A fine show of humility," he growled, the one he'd trusted turning to him in shock… and some pain?
He was hurt?! After humiliating him like this? After taking away his ultimate prize?!
He rounded to the gallery and repeated, "A FINE SHOW OF HUMILITY!" as loud as he could. Very well. If he was to be the recipient of this cosmic joke, then he might as well spread the humor.
"My friend Orion Pax came here saying that he wanted to play peacemaker, that he did not want isolated acts of violence to escalate to civil war! He asked me to come under the banner of friendship and trust. He brought all of us here flying the false flag of reconciliation—when what he really pursued was POWER!" His supporters roared their approval, bolstering his resolve.
Yes, these bots… the Decepticons… They were the ones he could count on in this twisted world of lies and oppression.
Optimus Prime moved to look him in the optics, displaying regret and a hope that made the Energon inside him boil. "Brother, I swear I did not want this…" He extended an open hand towards him, "Let us work together and-"
"Brother no more!" He smacked the servo away with all the fury within his Spark (someone this fool didn't lose the limb), the cheers from the gallery stirring a familiar strength inside him. "You have betrayed the ideals you professed to me from the first!" He glared up at the Council. "Once again, you betray my people with promises of change and then dash our hopes! We seek freedom from the darkness you cast us into, and what do you do? You present us a new leader. A new Prime. A new autocrat to maintain the luxurious status quo for the Council and high castes while keeping us in the pits."
He spread his arms out to the Decepticons. "Will you stay in the pits?!"
"NO!"
"Will you submit to the rule of this Optimus Prime," he ground out the two despicable words as derisively as he could, "this tool of the castes that have profited off your suffering?"
"NO!"
"I do not want to lead," said tool replied with volume and an evenness that rankled him, "but I will if I must." He spun around that red-and-blue librarian who had stolen what was rightfully his and was met with two blue eyes glaring levelly back at him. "And if you choose to disregard all of Cybertron's laws and traditions, then lead I must." He shook his head in a way that indicated regret but still didn't back down. "I wish we could work as equals, brother, and change what we both know needs changing. But what you do is not the way."
"Do not presume to tell me what the way is," he spat back. "I found the way long ago, when you were still filtering data for the Hall of Records. The High Council calls you, librarian, Prime?! Well, I defy them! I defy them, you, and all others who would stop me from leading the Decepticons and bringing freedom and glory to Cybertron!"
"You will not speak to the Prime this way-" Those words, the last that fossil Halogen would ever utter, battered through what was left of his restraint.
The next moment, he had unveiled the fusion cannon, specially engineered for him by Shockwave, and only a smoldering crater remained of Halogen and his podium.
He left then with his Decepticons. Without further violence, a kindness to the "Prime" who once was Orion Pax… his brother. But it would be the final kindness anyone would ever receive from him.
Never again would he place his faith in the will of another.
Never again would he let anyone tell him what way was right.
Cybertron would be his. True freedom would be his… no matter what he had to do. Or who he had to crush.
He found Danny and Jake shooting some hoops at the basketball/soccer field they played at all the time. No surprise there, Jake dreamed of becoming a big-shot basketball player, and Danny always stayed close to his little brother.
Any other day, and he'd have joined them for a little one-on-one-on-one. But not today. "Hey," he called, getting their attention as he ran up to them, "either of you see Shirley around?" But both shook their heads no. He gave them a quick wave and ran off into the village.
Not good. So, not only had Shirley not shown up at the house with the usual groceries, but she hadn't been about even in the village. She wasn't a girl who avoided others, and those two were bound to have seen her on a usual day. Something had to be up.
Well, the sun was starting to go down, and he wasn't exactly some master tracker who could pick up a trail underneath the moon. Who knew where she might be or what could've happened to- He stopped running to suck in a long breath. Cool it, he told himself. Like Father always says, getting worked up just makes your troubles worse. If Shirley hasn't been out in the village… then maybe she's at home.
He returned to sprinting, but this time with a clear destination in mind. The neighborhood she lived in wasn't far off, easy to reach even without a car or a bike. He ran down the road, her little shack already in view. And as he got closer, he saw that rusty old truck of hers parked right next to it. Okay, she's got to be home. She'd use any excuse to drive that old rustbucket around. Chickens were clucking in the back while he tried to look through the window. "Shirley?" But no answer, so he knocked on the front door.
Still no response, but the door was unlocked. He opened it and stepped inside. A bit of a mess as usual, but not much had changed since the last time he'd stopped by. "Shirley?" It looked like no one was home, but though she could be a little flighty, Shirley had enough sense to lock up behind her when she went out. Where could she be?
He took one last look around the living room before making for the door when he heard a clinking sound. Glancing down, he found a little glass bottle his sandal had bumped into. It seemed kind of familiar, so he picked it up for a closer look. Hang on… he read "Test 395278" on the label. This looks like a bottle Father would use for his research. But… Father's told Shirley many times not to remove anything from his workshop. …Is this why he asked me this morning if I'd messed with his stuff? Did Shirley take this with her? But why-?
A clucking that sounded worrying panicked snapped him out of his thoughts. It came from Shirley's coop, he was sure of it. He dropped the bottle and bolted over to the door, throwing it open just in time to see a chicken walk into view.
Blood splattered across its feathers. "What the…" he mumbled while staring at it. "What happened to you?" Was it a fox or something? No, there aren't any foxes on Arimago. Two more fowls with bloodstains as well walked out from the shack's side, pecking at the ground like they didn't have a care in the world. Shouldn't they be going nuts if there was a predator about?
He then heard a weird sound coming from where the poultry had come from. Each step he took made it easier to hear and his stomach turn: a mix of chewing and… sucking. Part of him wanted to put as much distance from the house as possible and find help.
But… this was Shirley's home. And if something happened to her because he didn't help…
He turned the corner to see Shirley sitting in front of the chicken coop, her back turned to her. She was holding something… something with a lot of… white feathers…
And blood was splashed on her left leg.
He… he wanted to call out to her… say her name… but the words got stuck in his throat. Then as if she'd read his mind, her head stiffened, the (bile swelled in his throat) mutilated chicken fell from her fingers and she slowly turned towards him.
That same face… the one he had seen smiling so brightly last night…
Those brown eyes that had glittered so beautifully through the moonlight reflected through the water…
That smile when she eagerly asked him, "Kerry, what kind of man do you want to be when you grow up?"
…Now the skin was a lot paler. Her brown hair had blood and… other things stuck in it. Her mouth was open, letting blood that he somehow knew wasn't hers flow out past her teeth.
Her eyes had turned crimson and were locked on him in a mixture of horror and… hunger.
"K-Kerry…"
That whisper finally snapped him out of whatever had paralyzed him, and he desperately moved towards her. "S-Shirley!" What was going on, what happened to her, is she okay-
She yelped and scrambled away from him, pulling herself into the cage until her back hit the other side. He stopped in his tracks; why did she run away from him like he was some kind of monster?
"I…" She sobbed into one hand, arms wrapped about herself. "I-I just wanted… wanted t-to… prove i-i-it c-could… h-help!" She kept twitching and shivering at the spot. "H-h-h-his… research…"
W-wh-what? F-father's research? He remembered dully how Shirley had kept talking about proving to Father Simon that Father's magecraft could help many lives…
"B-but…" He could see those eyes of hers- no, not hers, those weren't Shirley's eyes… "I-it l-l-looks like… I-I did it wrong…"
Then a snarl escaped her, and she slammed the back of her head against the wired fence. And… he couldn't do a thing while she kept… growling. Snapping at the air. His feet felt nailed to the spot. F-Father's research did this? Wh-what do I do?
Something metal clattered out in front of him, and he realized then that sh-Shirley had tossed it over. He looked down and saw… that knife Shirley was always carrying with her. The one with a cross on the handle, the one she said Father Simon had given her.
"Kill me…" …No way… She couldn't be… No… "Take it and… please…" she sobbed, those… feral eyes pleading with him. "You've got to… kill me…" Her upper body had slumped over, like she was wrestling with herself. "Do it now… while you've still got a chance…"
He took a step back from the knife. From her… how could he kill her? Even with the blood and, and, and… the eyes… she was still Shirley, right?
The girl who helped out with groceries and the house. The girl who looked up to his father. The girl who was family to him.
"Please…" No. "I-I can't stop this…" More than family…
Her fingers gripped the cage's wires so tightly her fingers began to bleed. "I can't keep it back much longer!" The metal itself warped from her grip. "Hurry, Kerry!"
A gasp escaped him as the wires snapped, then Shirley bit down into her own wrist. He glanced down at the knife, then at her again… at the girl who meant so much to him…
And ran to find help. I can't do this… Not to her… T-there has to be a cure or something…
They leaped from one tree branch to the next, but their pursuers just wouldn't let up. Every time he looked behind himself, he could see those white Anbu masks not far behind. Persistent, he grumbled to himself. The pack was most likely shaking off Hidden Mist of their own, no chance of them helping out. Good news, though, the village's borders weren't much further.
But Rin seemed to be lagging a little. Had they drugged her? Should've checked her more thoroughly before we took off- "I can't go back to the Hidden Leaf," she suddenly declared.
Did he mishear her just now? "What are you talking about?" If they weren't running for their lives, he might've stopped them both in their tracks to clear this up.
But when Rin turned her head towards him, he saw a surety in her eyes that unnerved him a little. "Kakashi, you've got to kill me!"
"Wait, what?!" He almost stumbled with his next jump but somehow pulled it off. Did she really just ask that of him?
"They're using me as a pawn," his comrade hurriedly explained, "If I return to the village, it'll become vulnerable, I just know it!"
Rin wasn't one to talk nonsense, he knew that. And her rescue had felt a little too easy now. Using Obito's Sharingan could reveal if they'd planted something inside her, but there wasn't any time to waste checking. One second misspent, and the Mist shinobi would catch up.
Besides, one glimpse of that moment years ago… of their third teammate half trapped underneath the rock, his left eye gone and now that of the one who'd gotten him into this mess… A final request gasped out…
He returned to the here and now and reminded Rin of his vow. "I swore to Obito that I'd always protect you! There's no way I can do what you're asking!"
Her arms trembled even as they hung by her sides; that scene he'd recalled was surely on her mind now, too. He wanted to hit himself for reopening that wound… but not now. He glared over his shoulder at the two Mist Anbu on their tails. They did this to her, and he'd make sure they'd pay-
No, none of that nonsense now. Rin's life was top priority! "Listen," he assured her, "we'll find a way to stop whatever this is! But first we need to reach the Hidden Leaf!"
"Kakashi, please…"
He forced himself not to get hung up on the desperation in her voice. "Just keep moving while I take care of these guys." At the next branch, Rin jumped on, but he stayed back, yelling, "Go!" before whirling around to hurl a handful of shuriken at their chasers.
He could hear her call, "Kakashi, no!" but tuned it out, weaving through the signs of the Shuriken Shadow Clone Jutsu. The Anbu separated to evade the multiplied stars that would've shredded them, but it allowed him to close the distance to one and pierce his heart with a kunai.
Another leaped towards him, sword in hand, but he escaped with his Substitution Jutsu. That Anbu was obviously a seasoned fighter, judging by how quickly he traced him down. Still, he had enough time to prepare his next move.
The following seconds were a bit of a blur. At least one of the enemy created clones to increase their numbers, he led the fight out of the forest and to a nearby cliff overlooking the river, getting his headband knocked off in the process. He'd dispatched at least two more, and a third fell just now to his Lightning Blade.
The rapid chirping of the technique he'd invented filled the night as his Sharingan locked onto his next target. The Hidden Mist ninja shied back; he knew he was next. A heavy amount of dust had been kicked up during their battle, but there was nowhere any of these men could hide from him. Not with his friend's gift. He sped across the rocks, his lightning-charged hand pulled back for the lethal strike.
A figure leaped out from the dust clouds-
The next thing he knew, Rin was in front of him, slumping forward. Blood trickling from her mouth that wheezed out, "Ka…ka…shi…" Her eyes, so full of life, quickly dulling.
His rapidly moistening eye saw his hand, empowered by the jutsu he'd dedicated to protecting his comrades…
Piercing her heart.
She leaned her head back, just barely evading the thin blades as they whistled through the air. Her right leg snapped out, striking her opponent's midsection and drawing a pained grunt. Then both flipped backwards, widening the distance between them and giving her a chance to consider her next move.
Her decision made, she thrust her staff forward, forcing her charging foe to dodge. The Edenian metal surged unimpeded into the ground, releasing cracks like a spider's web across their dueling field. But before she could pull it back, a kick to her staff wrenched it out of her grip, and a palm struck first her stomach then her chin where it was least protected by her mask. She began to fall from the blows, her opponent following with a blade at the ready-
Just as she'd been waiting for.
Her right foot found leverage and halted her fall, and she lunged forward to catch the descending blade. Her destabilized opponent was reeled in for a punch to the face, followed by slamming headfirst against the ground. She then forced her left knee onto the back, her staff returning to her opening hand. One swipe of it knocked away the fans, the next swooped in-
An open palm struck the floor twice, and she immediately halted her staff's arc before rising from her opponent. She in turn rolled onto her back to look up… and accept the hand stretched towards her. A quick tug pulled the blue-wearing warrior back onto her feet, her sparring partner discreetly looking her over for any notable injuries.
"You have been training, Jade. This is the first time I've lost a match to you since our youth."
She removed her mask to flash a teasing grin. "Would you rather I pretend to lose, Your Highness?"
Kitana, princess once of Edenia, now of Outworld, shot her a faux glare. "I'd have you replaced if you did." They shared a laugh before sauntering out of the training circle. Outworld's sun was beginning to set, casting their surroundings in a red glow. Yet they could still hear heavy clanking and grunts of effort from the city.
As well as the odd blood-curdling scream from the Dungeons.
"It seems preparations are well underway," she noted, trying not to mull over the latter. It had taken both of them some time to grow accustomed to the realm's brutal ways, and appreciation was a different matter entirely.
Kitana nodded, visibly tuning out the wet cracking of a whip. "The tournament with Earthrealm is only a few weeks from now, and Father grows more eager with each passing day. I've already seen Shang Tsung prowling the halls-"
"Ah, I thought I had smelled something decrepit while passing through."
If it had been the Emperor she'd just interrupted, she would've faced severe punishment. His daughter, though, merely gave a half-smirk before continuing. "While Goro has doubled his usual training regimen."
Her eyebrow rose. "Breaking twice as many bodies in half, then?" Her friend released a (barely dignified) scoff in confirmation. And disgust, another feeling they shared right now. "Elder Gods, how can that muscle-bound swine be even considered royalty? Half the time, he is more unrefined than an entire Tarkatan horde, and for the other half, he would crush anyone's skull for the most ridiculous of reasons."
"And yet, Goro remains the son of King Gorbak," Kitana reminded her with a pointed look. "He has also been Outworld's reigning Champion for the last five Mortal Kombats against Earthrealm and for many others that claimed other realms. Emperor Shao Kahn has high expectations for him."
As he does for us all, was left unsaid. Outworld was no place for the faint of heart, and Shao Kahn demanded a particularly high base of strength among his court. Even his daughter was not exempt from this standard. In fact, it meant that she had even more reason not to lose her edge.
I suppose I can expect to receive more bruises in our next spar, she mused sardonically.
But she saw no reason to complain. Kitana was her sister if not in blood, then in bond, one she wouldn't trade for anything in all the realms.
Familiar raven-black hair not her own fluttered before her eyes for a second before she sighed to herself. Mother…She closed her eyes and bowed her head to herself: a brief mourning ritual she had formed long ago. Couldn't partake in it for too long, not in a place like Outworld, let alone so close to the throne room, but she made each second count.
Her eyes opened to find Kitana watching her carefully. She'd never judge her for this, though. Not when she missed her own mother as well.
Strange… Every time I remember Kitana with Queen Sindel, I always feel like there should be a third person with them. A man…
She shelved these fog-laden thoughts away for another time. They could see the twin doors to Shao Kahn's throne room now. "So," she began, "I take it our evening shall be filled with the usual bickering between the Shokan and the Centaurians, with traces of that Tarkatan-Naknadan strife yesterday?"
"That is presumably what awaits me, yes." She snapped out of her musings at the answer. "But it appears you have other responsibilities tonight, Jade."
A pointed nod drew her attention to the pair in deep conversation by the door: the last of the Zaterrans, a sneaky fellow aptly named "Reptile" who could actually be quite cordial when you got to know him, and a tall Osh-Tekk whose broad shoulders promptly relaxed minutely upon seeing her. Her hazel eyes locked with his, glowing a soft blue that eased her even in the most trying of times, but he kept his posture straight and his arms folded behind his back. Ever the dignified, noble warrior Goro couldn't even pretend to be.
They held gazes for one more second before his sight shifted to her left. "Princess Kitana." he inclined his head in greeting to their Emperor's daughter, his reptilian friend copying his actions.
"General Ko'atal." Kitana returned the gesture with equal grace before straightening. "The Emperor is not inside?" Her eyes darted towards the doors.
"Not tonight," Kotal's deep voice rumbled from him, his lips set in a straight line. "An Outworld troupe has prepared an event dedicated to him in the Coliseum. It is doubtful he would join this evening's conference." He and Reptile stepped to the side for Kitana: a wordless assent that Outworld's princess held highest authority in Shao Kahn's absence.
She in turn waved her hand towards the Osh-Tekk. "In that case, you may retire for the evening, General. In recognition of your quelling yesterday's riot. You as well, Jade." She then peered to her from the side, her mask doing little to hide her smile. "Consider it a reward for winning today's match, and I can well fend for myself even in your absence."
Kitana's usual "subtlety," but she saw no reason to argue whatsoever. "Thank you, Princess. I wish you patience and success." She bowed to her in gratitude, Kotal doing the same wordlessly but with the same emotions reflected in his otherwise cool demeanor.
She returned it with a knowing (and thankfully approving) glance between them and made for the doors. Reptile spared his friend a quick look before pushing them open with a respectful, "After you, Princessss." Then the two were alone.
She and Kotal then walked off towards a different part, one leading to a private balcony. They strode in synch while keeping a watchful eye out for spies or pests before reaching the spot overlooking the Desert. There, she finally spoke. "How are your people?"
"More than a few were injured in forcing apart the agitators, but thankfully, they should all recover soon." He then noticed her gaze on a bandage around his upper left arm and hummed calmly. "A scratch, Jade. Baraka's people tend to trade accuracy for savagery."
"Much like Baraka himself," she quipped, assured by the hint of mirth he'd just shown. "This scratch apparently did nothing to diminish the effect of your speech to quell the fighting. A shame I couldn't witness it."
"I shall gladly recite it for you if you wish," he promised, matching her smirk with his own that… excited her. Neither sensed any onlookers about, leaving them free to play this game.
He turned to the Desert, though, his face shifting to a frown. "If only speeches were enough to keep order in Outworld. Shao Kahn continues merging more realms with it, and with each one, the disputes only grow. And there are not enough of us interested in settling them. Goro simply engorges himself in all manners of flesh and battle. Shang Tsung latches onto any attempt to curry more favor with Shao Kahn like the vulture he is. Reiko… who knows what goes on in that twisted labyrinth he has for a mind?" He leaned slightly away with a bitter sound. "And our Emperor would rather conquer another realm than rule the empire he has-"
She put a hand on his shoulder in warning, but he'd already ceased. Even if they appeared to be alone for now, speaking ill of the Emperor was a risk and a grave offense.
She lifted her hand from his shoulder and up towards his cheek. Her fingers stroked the flesh there gently before his reached up for hers. "If so few make any effort in caring for Outworld's people," she said, "then it makes the efforts of those that do all the more meaningful." She smiled. "And those few may not be as alone as they think."
Finally, that soft smile of his appeared; one of the most exquisite treasures she knew. "Have I mentioned yet how incredible you are, Jade?" His hands cradled her hips and gently pulled her closer while the last rays of the sun illuminated them.
"Not recently," she replied playfully as her fingers danced along the lines of his face. "But I never turn away a compliment, Kotal." Then her lips found his.