What I Wouldn't Sacrifice
A Shadow of the Colossus Fanfiction
They had come far, across fields, through mountain passes, more fields, woods, towns, and finally, their destination was within sight. Carved stone arches greeted them openly, old and weathered, but maintained. Thick boughs overshadowed most of the path, casting it into a mottling of light. Tree trunks and thick undergrowth shielded the understory of the surrounding woods from trespassers, leaving only one possible route: the road on which they traveled.
The traveling party of three was modestly dressed, at first glance, cloaked in light brown, nothing immediately fancy. The horses, however, were a little less modest, the lead rider's mare jet black with splashes of silver that gleamed like polished jewelry. Its tack was well-crafted, and several saddle-bags and other traveling gear hung on its rump.
The other two didn't ride animals nearly as fine as the first, but they were of good breeding stock, well fed and cared for to the trained eye. Any three of them would be prime targets for bandits with an eye for value.
Another stone structure stood ahead of them, where a pair of guards kept watch at the open gate. One approached and held up a hand, ordering him to stop in the local native tongue, demanding identification.
The lead figure tugged his hood back slightly, silvery hair and eyes visible, and the guard seemed to realize, urgently ordering the other to go find their Chief. Before more than ten minutes had passed, a man in blue robes appeared, donning a white mask that hid all but his eyes. He opened his arms in greeting, his voice curt, polite, but only tensely friendly, forcibly civil.
"Ah! Welcome, welcome. I trust you had no trouble on your journey? Seeing as you made it and, from what I can see, unharmed." He stared at them for a moment in scrutiny, as if trying to ascertain if such an observation was wholly true.
The head rider nodded, falling into the local dialect. "Our journey went fine. There was no trouble at all."
The Chief in blue robes nodded tersely, motioning into the village. "Ah, good. Very good. Why don't you come with me, so we can get to our…discussion." He paused a moment, seeming at a loss, before adding uncertainly, "If…it is your custom, I can have someone tend to your animals for you, while we walk."
The younger man shook his head as he dismounted in one fluid, graceful motion, grasping the reigns of his horse as he began to walk. "That won't be necessary."
The Chief paused another moment then nodded his head, leading the way stiffly. "Right this way then."
The dirt streets of the village were occupied by curious onlookers, eyeing the cloaked strangers who walked with the Chief, some ogling the black and silver mare led by the one walking in-toe with their leader towards a larger hut at the far end of the village.
He was observing them as well.
Silvery-blue eyes traced over the form of buildings that were a mixed construction of stone, wood, and plant materials, many of them round in construction. Tanned hides were stretched out on wood frames, and somewhere off in the shade of one open building, a man was skinning and gutting a fresh deer carcass. A handful of moderately sized fowl clucked in their path, then parted and skittered off to the sides of the road around them, before going back to milling in the middle again. A few children laughed and chased each other around, looking like they were going to bolt into the road, unaware to the traveling group, before a fussy mother pulled them aside and scolded them to be careful, pointing out the men and horses they might have otherwise been trampled by. A woman sitting just beneath the shade of her house was be-heading and flaying a small weaved basketful of fish on a wood slab, pausing to wipe her brow with the back of her forearm and curiously glancing at the passing group of five.
Further back behind the houses, a band of horses were fenced loose together with an open gate, grazing. A figure of smaller stature walked around them and refilled a trough with fresh water from a bucket, not noticing the group for several beats, then paused as he first noticed the horses from beneath a stand-alone hood and two-toned hair of brown and blond.
A noticeable scowl crossed their lips as one eye first lingered on the black and silver horse, then shifted to its rider, stopping what he was doing to place a hand on a condescendingly tilted hip. It was almost enough to make the man smirk. It wasn't hard to guess that the short teen was probably just itching to go storming up to him, demanding why in Hell he was here, if only given the opportunity.
Instead, the one-eyed younger male only glared at his back as he followed the elder through the streets, until he and the one tending the horse were out of sight of each other.
"You must have had a long, tiring journey," the Chief hummed for a moment as he stood outside his building, looking them over incredulously. "Why don't you take the day to rest? We can begin negotiations afterwards. I'm sure that, after such a long ride, you would enjoy a good wash and some food, hm?"
After a brief moment of thought, the silver-haired male nodded his head slightly, satisfied with the offer. He had already planned to clean himself up and change out of his traveling clothes before holding their meeting anyway. He would need it after several days on horseback.
"Thank you," he offered with the same kind of forced civility. "I think I'll do just that."
Washing himself clean had been a great relief after traveling so many miles, soothing dull aches and getting rid of accumulated filth from their journey. A muffled yawn escaped the royal figure as he finished dressing, sitting down onto a pillow with closed eyes as another figure shuffled around him.
The female servant pulled long, silver locks back delicately and started to tie his hair, which reached all the way down his back, then started to place soft, orange feathers in amongst it until they formed a plume behind his head, and two longer ones of various fiery shades that hung to his shoulders, sparkling in the dim firelight.
Two strips of hair hung to frame either side of his face, tied by a long decorative piece that coiled around and around, until at the bottom, an ornament shaped like a dragon's head hung.
When she was done with his hair, she went about painting his face, creating a serpentine that started from the eyelids and coiled down to his cheek on either side. On the right side, the serpent figure began white and melted to a red hue, and on the left, black, melting into blue, with a silver line down the bridge of his nose.
The young man was used to the routine, and already knew when she was done without needing to be told, opening his eyes. The servant girl smiled happily at him, and he waved her away with a nod of approval. She bowed her head and exited, leaving him alone to eat in silence.
When he was finished, he stood and retrieved his swords – there were three, handles likewise fashioned after a white-and-red, black-and-blue, and silver dragons – secured them to his belt, and headed to the room where the council would be held.
His accompanying guard on this journey stood just outside the door, immediately moving to follow him and keep an eye out for any possible danger, even though there was unlikely to be any. Even so, it paid to be cautious.
He swept aside a reed screen that hung in the doorway, a few other figures sitting in wait at a short wood table, looking at him expectantly. Not a word was spoken as he crossed the room, taking up a seat on one of the empty pillows that sat around the table, kneeling.
Seeming satisfied, the blue-robed Chief, Emon, nodded his head, clearing his throat for attention.
"Well then, seeing as we are all finally here, I suppose we should begin," Emon said slowly, eyeing the other figures that were gathered carefully. He straightened himself up and leveled his gaze on the silver haired man, drawing in a deep breath. "Why don't you begin with your terms, Emperor Sanryuu?"
The silver-haired man nodded his head passively, speaking clearly and concisely, fixing the others with piercing eyes.
"The terms of the treaty for the Sanryuu Empire are as follows; first, the territory of Nagata, where we will expand the port, and open up a trade route. The route will travel west, where a bridge will be constructed over the Whispering Passage, through Benva. Sensato and the Red Glass mountains will also fall under our rule, and we will supply any materials needed to build it back up, including fresh crop for the fields and livestock to the people, to replenish their livelihood. We will leave the Silverbelt and Chillfern untouched, as it's always been. Whatever you plan to do with it is your business. The same goes for the Flooded Isles."
Emon wore a frown and nodded his head, idly stroking his chin in thought.
"These terms are… acceptable, though I am hesitant to allow a trade bridge across the top of the valley, so close…" He paused, audibly huffed, then waved for the Emperor to continue. "Please, continue with your terms. I will think about it, and we can discuss."
"In accordance with Sanryuu Imperial law, one thing that will need to end are human sacrifices. They have been outlawed within our lands for more than a century, and aren't something that I can make exception to."
Emon's frown deepened unhappily, sitting up again.
"These are less acceptable terms to us. You can't simply tell us that we suddenly stop what our culture dictates necessary because your people do things differently."
"The other points of the treaty are negotiable," Daijoudan stated levelly, unwavering. "But this condition is not."
"You cannot tell us to change the foundations of our religion simply over a truce negotiation. We do not choose our way of life, it is the Gods' Will. I do not agree to this," Emon stated more firmly, annoyed.
"Defending what you seem to think a right to sacrifice the life of others is justifying murder," Daijoudan stated, unwilling to budge.
"And what would you have us do?" the man next to Emon, Miga, demanded angrily, not appreciating the condition either. "As he said, we do not decide. It is what the Gods want of us, and they have allowed us to survive all this time, despite many hardships."
"You choose which Gods to follow. No one else does."
Miga and another man looked mortified, while Emon's eyes flashed with fury.
"Is this what you come here to do? Make us all into heathens who forsake our Gods simply because you declare it so?" he frothed. "This is not a negotiation of treaty on equal terms, this is a dictatorship! Who do you think you are? You think that your word outweighs that of the Gods? That you can just make anything you wish happen?" Before the young Emperor could speak, his expression unaffected, Emon stood and violently motioned for him to go. "We will not agree to this… this blasphemy you call a peace treaty. Be gone with you now! I want to see no more of you! If you are not gone by next mid-day, we will force you out."
Daijoudan barely reacted, standing and turning away, back toward the room that had temporarily been given to him. Even after he left, Emon was still seething.
"Can you believe the nerve of him? Give a man enough power, and he suddenly things he is a God, that he can tell you to do anything he declares." He had half a mind to spit in the direction the royal had left.
"So what now, Lord Emon?" one of the surrounding men asked. The elder hummed and turned to glance out of the window, to the receding silver-haired figure spitefully. "Without this treaty, the war continues."
"We will ask the Gods for their favor, of course," Emon stated matter-of-factly. "And the Gods will demand blood. And now," he nodded his head towards the man disappearing into the dark of the night. "…so do they."
"Daijoudan!"
The silver-haired man stopped in his tracks, turning his head. His bodyguard was on alert, ready to defend him if need be, but he waved them down to relax. The female figure that approached was shorter than him, with long black hair. She smiled in greeting as she stopped shy of him, looking uncertain, before she finally flung herself forward and hugged him tightly.
He hesitated a moment, then awkwardly hugged her back with one hand.
"It's been so long since I've seen you!"
Daijoudan nodded, but his silver eyes were elsewhere, scouring the shadows. If she was here, then he couldn't be far behind.
Sure enough, after a few seconds of searching, he once again spotted the short, hooded male with the one eye and two-toned hair, leaning on a pole with arms crossed and giving the taller man a glare that would ignite him into a raging bonfire if looks could kill.
They both stared each other down for a moment, before the shorter male finally regarded him with a condescendingly hissed, "Pretty-boy."
"Psycho little shit," Daijoudan rebuked. The brunette's scowl twisted into an even uglier snarl, single blue eye narrowing into a slit.
"Want to say that a little closer to my face?"
"Why?" Daijoudan asked boredly. "Is it not good enough to have me looking down on your short ass from way over here?"
"Then how about I level the playing field by slicing your legs off, you conceited royal prick?" the younger boy sneered, partially drawing a blade from a polished black sheath.
"Stop it!" the girl snapped, looking between them in disapproval. Daijoudan already turned his gaze elsewhere in disregard, but the shorter male had yet to back down, the girl giving him a glare. "Faulklin, I said knock it off!"
Faulklin growled and spat towards Daijoudan's feet in a show of contempt before finally turning his body in another direction, leaning his back against the pole and pouting childishly to himself.
Satisfied, though huffing aloud in a sort of maternal frustration, she turned dark eyes to Daijoudan and regarded him happily. "What are you doing here? I heard that the fighting was ending."
Daijoudan nodded affirmatively.
"That's what I'm here working on." He didn't go on to elaborate that the meeting had gone less than well, but he intended to fix that, one way or another. He didn't know of anyone else that had more stubbornness than him, not even the one-eyed smart-mouth with the inferiority complex of a small dog. Equally stubborn, maybe, but not more so.
"That's good," the girl sighed in relief. "I'd love it if the war would finally end, and I know my older brother would too. He can go back to treating minor things again instead of war injuries." She laughed, though there was somewhat of a troubled hint to her expression. "If you haven't eaten yet, maybe you'd like to come over to our home and join us? We'd love to have you."
Faulklin noticeably scowled in their direction.
"No. Thank you, but I've already eaten, and there are things I need to do." Mostly he needed to put some thought towards how he was going to re-approach Emon and the others from the meeting, and how he was going to convince them to agree to that one term. Everything else in the negotiations, he could alter, or set aside for later. Sacrifices weren't something he was going to budge on.
He turned away as he glimpsed the girl's disappointed face, motioning for his bodyguard to follow.
"Perhaps another time, then!" she called after him, her shoulders sinking slightly. Faulklin scoffed and rolled his eye.
"Way to go, pretty-boy," he scoffed under his breath before pushing off the pole, placing his hands on his hips. "Komeko, let's go. No use standing here watching his too-good-for-you Highness traipse off."
She sighed and turned to follow the shorter male, though she was still hopeful.
"He's just busy, that's all. I'm sure he'd give us his time if he had it."
Faulklin only scoffed aloud again. "We're better off without his company anyway, the asshole… we don't need his attitude around here!"
Komeko laughed softly at the irony of that statement. "Yes, I suppose. Two stubborn attitudes would be a little much, wouldn't it?" She only smiled as Faulklin cast her a dirty look.
"I am not anywhere near as insufferable as that pompous, silver-haired bastard."
"Who's a pompous, silver-haired...? Well, you know the rest."
Faulklin stopped and glanced ahead at an older male with long black hair that was tied back who regarded him with kind, brown eyes.
"Who else?" the brunette-and-blond quipped, crossing his arms over his chest as he motioned over his shoulder with a flick of his head. "The Emperor himself graces us with his presence."
"I see," the older man hummed. "I had heard that he might be here. I guess that confirms it, though… you should try being a little nicer, Faulklin."
"To him?" Faulklin sneered. "Not a chance in Hell."
The man sighed. "Well, it was worth a shot, anyway. If you're done being pissed though, I have food waiting for us. Shall we?" He offered up a warm smile.
This wasn't how their night was supposed to be, or any night, for that matter. It wasn't fair. More than that, it was wrong. This had to be some kind of sick joke.
Faulklin grit his teeth as he glared the most amount of hatred he could possibly muster, his entire body rigid and waiting to spring like a guard dog sizing up an intruder. Why them? Why now?
"This has to be a mistake," the black-haired man breathed, his eyes wide and horrified, shifting them to Komeko in disbelief.
"It's not a mistake," Emon stated, his voice filled with authority, returning the younger boy's glare with a great deal of disgust. "The Gods have chosen, Mamoru. They do not make mistakes."
Mamoru shook his head, as if trying to shake off a terrible nightmare, his gaze shifting between them and his younger sister.
"No, you can't, I- … this is too sudden. She can't be the one that they've chosen."
"She is," Emon stated again. "She has to come with us now. The Sanryuu Emperor will not agree to a proper truce. For the Gods to give us favor in turning the tides of the war, they demand blood, and they have chosen her as their sacrifice."
"Like Hell she will!" Faulklin snarled, barely managing to keep himself from throwing himself at them and beating them down himself, and that was only a matter of – very short – time.
Having run out of patience, Emon motioned to his men, who surged forward and grabbed Komeko, pulling her away from a stricken Mamoru. The man desperately reached out to his sister, trying to grasp her arm. He didn't intend on fully stopping them – he didn't think he was anyway – but he couldn't let her just go like that, without holding her in his arms even one more time, sharing words between the two of them, a proper goodbye at least… before watching his entire world crash and shatter as he lost the most important thing he had ever lived for.
Everything suddenly moved so fast. His sister cast a helpless, pleading look back at him as two men marched her away, while others held Mamoru back. Faulklin snarled rage and finally lunged, drawing his blade. He cut one man down the length of his arm, and tried to attack Emon, to kill the Chief himself. He didn't reach that far, a soldier grabbing him and yanking him back. Faulklin snarled at him now and tried to attack, but he was disarmed, an arm twisted behind his back until he barked in pain and released the sword. That didn't appear to be enough for them as they knocked him to the ground and kicked him a few, good, hard times under the ribs, knocking the breath out of the undersized kid, before the men were suddenly gone as quickly as they came.
Mamoru was torn between what to do, whether to follow them to his sister, or to stay by Faulklin, who was still gasping and trying to regain his breath, curled into a ball on the ground.
Mamoru couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He couldn't feel, but at the same time, he felt everything. He felt too much, and it was twisting itself inside him, until it started to break into thorns piercing every last nerve into astonishing agony.
He didn't even fully register Faulklin pushing himself up, still struggling to breathe, but adamant not to stay down.
"Damn it… all…" he wheezed, his single working eye sharp with malevolence. "I'll kill those fuckers. Every last one of them. Come on, we can still reach them, before they-"
"Faulklin, don't." Mamoru voice was impossibly soft, yet it overrode Faulklin's own snapping voice, the brunette falling silent. "This is the Gods' will."
"Fuck the gods! There's no such thing!" Faulklin screamed. "You're sister is going to die for nothing, for some stupid fairytale bullshit stories! Is that what you want? I'm not just going to sit by and-"
"Faulklin!" The boy jumped, startled by the harshness of the voice. His older brother never yelled at him. Ever. It was enough to spur a sense of anxiety deep in his chest that he hadn't felt in a long time, thoroughly shaken by the tone. Tears were streaking down Mamoru's face as he leaned heavily against the wall, looking as though he was going to be physically sick, and it was like Faulklin was watching something irreplaceably fragile cracking and breaking beyond those dark brown eyes, before being swallowed up into a black hole. "…just… please… stop."
The brunette-blond couldn't help but tremble with a wide eye, conflicted uncertainty all but entirely consuming him. He had seen Mamoru go through many things – relief, happiness, horror, fear, longing, frustration – but he had never seen him like this. He had never seen the man that had been the only true support pillar in his life look so broken and hollow, and it was absolutely terrifying.
Mamoru turned and staggered away, but Faulklin couldn't get what he'd seen out of his mind nor the sound of the man's mournful sobbing from the other room, burned into his memory, where it would probably stay, haunting him like so many other things. This, though… this was the absolute worst of them all, and he had survived many horrifying things in his young life.
He stood up shakily and moved to stand just outside the doorway.
Lingering in the darkness, he was little more than another shadow in the night. Every muscle was still as stone, the only movement being the faintest shimmer of tears in a single blue eye. He couldn't bear to move any closer, stationed just outside the doorway as each pitiful noise tore another hole through him like the edge of a sword, exemplified by the bitter knowledge of helplessness to do anything that would remedy the suffering.
It took every shred of self-control on his part not to break into open sobs with his older guardian; to scream out in frustration; to apologize for being unable to do the slightest thing to have stopped it from happening; and to blatantly damn the ones responsible for all to hear.
Standing utterly still and listening in tortured silence was all he could do to quell the shaking, and at least somewhat quiet the tumultuous storm that wanted to rage outward from the deepest recesses of his being.
Even if he were of the mind to offer verbal solace, and internally he was, he had no way with words, grasping at what he might say and coming up empty, only adding to his frustration. He tried not to dwell too much on it though, not wanting to break.
Should he approach? Go away? He wasn't sure. Human interaction wasn't exactly his strength, even if he had learned to be more open with this individual in particular, more able to express himself honestly.
Even so, uncertainty held him back, giving comfort being entirely foreign territory to the young male. He barely knew how to take comfort, much less give it.
Fuck, how pathetic was he?
He sighed under his breath, and stood listening for some time, until at last, he mustered up the confidence to round the corner, just enough to stand within, looking lost as he stared at the man.
Long black hair hung in curtains on either side of his surrogate brother's face, bangs draping over a hand that covered his eyes as he sobbed openly, sitting slumped on the edge of a bed with elbow resting on his knee for support.
Faulklin hesitated again, licking his lips nervously as he debated what to do. He could probably still turn and run to find Komeko and save her from what the soldiers and that damn blue-robed bastard had in store for her… or die trying. If he succeeded, that wouldn't be so bad, would it? If it spared her from the Sacrifice, and brought happiness back to the man that had brought it to him first…
He shook his head mournfully. That wouldn't work. He knew it wouldn't work. He wanted – even more than that, he needed to try – but he knew it would be futile.
Feeling helpless and small, smaller than he'd ever really felt despite his lacking size, he finally crossed the room quietly and sat down with some hesitance, trying to figure out what to do. Mamoru always embraced him when he was distressed, so he figured… maybe that was the right thing to do now, snuggling in close and hugging the man's side tightly.
Mamoru flinched in surprise and lifted his head from his palm. looking at the boy with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. Faulklin looked back, lost on what he was even doing, but trying to do something that might help, even a little.
Mamoru's lips twitched in what might have been an attempt at a smile, but it fell woefully short, unable to muster the strength to do so. The man turned his body slightly and hugged Faulklin back, holding him close in secure arms, and Faulklin instinctively buried his face against his chest, reveling in that familiar closeness he'd come to depend on like air.
Not a word was spoken between them as they held each other like that, though it was harder for Faulklin to do so adequately since he was far smaller.
When the crying picked up again, the man's hold tightened around him, cradling him close. It was an embrace that the boy had come to rely upon, one that offered him the only true security he'd ever known, and yet, this time he couldn't help but feel that it was a spurious, selfish comfort at best.
He didn't think as much out of blame or spite, but how could he ever think that his existence would be enough to offer any sort of solace? The man might have become his older brother, but he was little more than a pitied stray by comparison of what the man had lost.
Nothing would be able to fill the hole that'd been left, of that he was certain, and most definitely not by someone as damaged as he was. And yet, what else could he do?
There was no cure for death. Not within the hands of mortal Men, though…there was one way. A way that was strictly taboo.
Then again, what did it matter? He'd never been one of them anyway. They had no interest in counting him among their ranks, even if he inhabited the same village.
All but his brother, and… his brother's sister.
It wasn't as though anyone else counted him as another one of their own, allowed him to take part in their traditions, or as equal to them – being the outsider. So what would it matter to them if he went against their beliefs? Beliefs he didn't share in the slightest. Beliefs that had robbed his brother of what he valued most in the world, even more than he valued the surrogate younger brother that he held now.
Faulklin recalled words he had heard spoken at least a handful of times...
"That place…began from the resonance of intersecting points…'
'They are memories replaced by ens and naught and etched into stone.'
'Blood, young sprouts, sky – and the one with the ability to control beings created from light…'
'In that world, it is said that if one should wish it, one can bring back the souls of the dead…'
'…but to trespass upon that land is strictly forbidden."
The youth knew what he had to do, and that it'd be no easy task, if the stories around the fire that the Elder had spoken of bore any truth to them.
He waited in complacent silence as the night wore on, and exhaustion overcame the grieving older male, pitching him into deep sleep.
Moving carefully, the brown-haired teen carefully maneuvered out of his grasp and from the house. A black bird waiting just outside perched on his shoulder lightly. The village was dark, with only dimly lit braziers scattered about the village, providing decent cover.
The huge stone temple at the top of the village was entirely abandoned as Faulklin entered, looking about for guards or the Elder, but he saw none. The only figure was one wrapped in a large cloth at the far end, laid out across the alter, where a few torches provided light to see.
He drew in a few apprehensive breaths as he walked silently forward and up the short flight of steps to where the body lay covered. He reached out a hand and tentatively pulled away the folds to see her face, still soft-looking and at peace, though he could be almost entirely certain she had not died that way.
He jumped as he thought he heard something and whirled around, scanning the long hall of the temple for some sort of enemy, but he saw nothing. For several beats, he didn't move, not trusting to turn his back just yet, but still nothing stirred. He supposed it had only been the crackle of one of the torches.
Turning around again, he put the folds back as they were and looked at the sword sitting parallel to her body, sheathed.
The sacred sword.
He had already formulated his plan and what he would have to do, and he would have to do it quickly. He couldn't risk being found here, much less found leaving. Much less to do what he planned on doing.
He reached a hand out to grasp the sword. He heard another sound. Someone grabbed him by the collar of his hood and violently wrenched him around, the lithe male choking out in surprise as he was lifted off his feet.
When he stopped, his single blue eye met silver.
"Y-you-" he started to stutter, his anger boiling over, struggling in Daijoudan's firm grasp and kicking out at the taller man. "You lowly, motherfucking, pompous, son of a bitch! You were supposed to be here to negotiate a truce and make peace! Because of you, she's dead! I should fucking kill you right now!"
"Shut up," Daijoudan spat, making the teen see red, kicking harder. If he weren't almost frothing like a rabid dog, he might have felt smug at the wince he managed to get out of the man as he hooked Daijoudan solidly under the ribs.
"Let me go!"
"Why?" Daijoudan demanded sternly, giving him a hard look. "You think I'd let your dumb ass just take the sword and go running off on your own with it?"
"None of your fucking business!" Faulklin snarled, barely of the mind to keep his voice down at all. The brown-haired young man finally tired of his struggles and fell limp, dangling and out of breath. "I'm going to bring her back…" he spat finally, huffing and glaring loathing at Daijoudan, simply daring him to say or do something to try to stop him. "I'm not going to let it end like this."
Daijoudan stared at him for several long seconds, and every one that passed only made Faulklin's blood pressure rise all the higher.
"Not without me, you're not," Daijoudan finally stated, catching the boy off guard. Faulklin's eye widened.
"What the Hell do you mean 'not without me'?"
"I told you I'm not going to let your dumb ass go running off with the sword to do it alone."
Suddenly it clicked, and Faulklin wasn't sure whether to sit and stare in pure shock, or if he should be absolutely livid.
How dare he. How dare he?! After he had been the one to cause this atrocity in the first place!
"No. Fucking. Way. You've done enough!" Faulklin spat. The hold on his collar tightened, and it was suddenly much harder to breathe.
"Try and stop me, and I'll beat your ass so hard into the ground your teeth with grind to dust against the floor," Daijoudan promised in a low, dangerous, authoritative tone that managed to intimidate the smaller male, only adding to his fury. "Otherwise, make yourself useful, and retrieve my horse, before the entire fucking village and every soldier in a five mile radius becomes wise to our intentions."
He finally let Faulklin go, and the teen almost fell back onto his ass when his shoes hit the ground. He gave the larger man a murderous look, but for whatever reason, turned to obey.
He snuck carefully through the village and retrieved two horses – Daijoudan's black and silver mare, and his own almost-black-brown stallion – and carefully maneuvered them to the front gates. Daijoudan met him there immediately, carrying the corpse and blade with him.
Faulklin immediately swiped the sword away before Daijoudan could stop him, the two exchanging a deep, challenging glare, before Daijoudan mounted his own steed with Komeko's body cradled against him, nudging his horse to walk once they were settled.
They went as quietly as they could until the village was well behind them, then kicked the two horses to take off into a wild sprint, into the deep, dark, southern woods.
Though unseen in the shadow of night, there was a harsh gleam of determination in Faulklin's single good eye.
I'm not going to accept your death the way it is. I'll do whatever it takes to bring you back.