Whew! Sorry about that; this one took longer than I expected. Of course, it's the longest chapter in the story so far! *^*. Warning: this chapter contains violence, swearing, a little gore, and some uncomfortable situations. YE'VE BEEN WARNED. Enjoy!
P.S. I'd like to thank everyone from the wonderful comments. *sniff* You guys...make it all worthwhile TuT.
Oil and Water
Chapter 5: The Devotion
It was late afternoon when Kikuchiyo decided to head back to the village. The sun was stretching its fingers out over the forest in an attempt to slow its descent towards the horizon. He shoved his sword into the loop on his shoulder and limped heavily into the forest, the events of the day weighing more heavily on him than his bruised ribs. He felt as if there was an imprint on his arm and shoulders where Komachi had been, as though she had burned her very presence onto his armor. It was both maddening and comforting. On one hand he missed having her beside him; on the other he knew she shouldn't be. The two arguments tossed back and forth inside his processor-brain like stray bullets. He wanted her. He couldn't have her. He needed her. He didn't deserve her. It was enough to drive him over the edge.
Kikuchiyo neglected to turn down the footpath leading to his hut, wanting to sooth the dry heat in his metal throat with water from the village well. Maybe he would find Rikichi and ask him for advice, since he'd had to deal with a brainwashed wife. He considered visiting Heihachi afterwards; maybe the retired samurai would have advice on matters of the heart. When he crossed the threshold, however, Kikuchiyo found his progress suddenly blocked by a scowling Okara.
"Hey, what's up?" he asked, grinning down at the tomboy. Okara's expression didn't lighten at the sight of the metal samurai. She put her hands on her hips and looked up at him impatiently. "What?"
"Have you seen Komachi anywhere?" Okara asked, tapping her toe. Kikuchiyo started.
"Why? When was the last time you saw her?"
"She cut out early this morning so I didn't get the chance to see her. I figured she went to visit you." Kikuchiyo scratched his weld-scar thoughtfully.
"Well, she did…We hung out at the grave sites for a bit this morning, but then she left. I haven't seen her since." Okara made an annoyed noise and shook her head, crossing her arms. Just then, Kirara came swaggering up to the two of them, her face distraught and anxious. She looked up hopefully when she saw Kikuchiyo, and quickly moved to clasp his hand.
"Oh, Kikuchiyo, have you seen Komachi?" she asked, her tone so desperate Kikuchiyo's wiring twisted.
"No, not since this morning; when was the last time you saw her?"
"Just before midday; she was by the river. No one's seen her since then." Kikuchiyo stared at the woman, his heart starting to pound painfully.
"Is everyone looking for her?" he asked. Kirara nodded, her eyes starting to water.
"It's around the time she leads the rain prayer," she said shakily. "We haven't had rain in a while and Rikichi asked her at the feast to lead us in a prayer…only she never showed up." Kirara put a hand to her mouth, trembling and on the verge of tears. "We've looked all over the village grounds. Heihachi hasn't seen her; the bridge guards haven't seen her. She's not in the fields, she's not at Wing Rock, and she's not in the forest! Oh, what if something happened to her!" Kirara gasped and covered her eyes. Kikuchiyo put a hand on her shoulder, unsure of how to help the woman. He looked around and saw that there were villagers moving about restlessly, taking in worried voice, occasionally calling Komachi's name, ands coming and going in different directions. He couldn't believe he'd allowed himself to stay at the grave site the whole day; if he hadn't been so absorbed in his own thoughts he might have seen where Komachi went.
"Hey, Okara-chan!" A group of young men wearing matching brown belts worked their way through a cluster of huts to Okara's side, looks of both determination and worry on their faces. Okara glanced at them, obviously not really interested in their presence.
"What, Panko?" she asked a burly youth at the head of the group. He had the same pale complexion and shaggy black hair as Takao. The youth held a plaintive hand out to her.
"Have you seen Takao anywhere?" he asked, his tone concerned. Okara blinked, suddenly perplexed.
"No, why?" she said warily. "I haven't seen him all day. We're looking for Komachi."
"Takao's been missing since early this morning."
Kikuchiyo stiffened when he heard this. He turned and limped up to stand right in front of the young man, his bulk looming over him. The young man stared up at the samurai, eyes wide.
"When this morning?" Kikuchiyo asked, his voice sharpening to an edge without him meaning it to. Panko stuttered slightly.
"I…Well…Um..." Kikuchiyo growled and leaned over him, so that the young man had to lean backward.
"When. Did. You. See. Him?" Kikuchiyo repeated, his words coming out in harsh chops.
Panko flinched and shook his head. The boys behind him stepped back a few feet, their hands up.
"Just before sunrise, I think!" he said shrilly, putting his hands up as well. Kikuchiyo let out an impatient snarl and seized the front of his tunic, lifting him off the ground so that he was eye-to-visor with him. Kirara gasped and rushed forward to grab the mech's arm.
"Kikuchiyo, don't hurt him!" she pleaded. Kikuchiyo ignored her.
"What did he say?" Kikuchiyo demanded, shaking the boy. Panko whimpered, his face turning paler.
"He…He told us how Komachi turned him down last night, when he asked her to marry him," the young man confessed. "He was upset; he said he wanted to try and change her mind!"
"How did he plan to do that?" Kikuchiyo barked, giving him another shake.
"I-I don't know! He asked where she went and I told him I'd seen her pass through the forest towards the grave sites. He said he was going to try and talk some sense into her." He tugged at the samurai's metal hands. "That's all I know, I swear! He's my little brother; I'm just worried about him!" Kikuchiyo grunted and dropped the young man, snarling in agitation. Panko retreated back to where his friends were huddled by a nearby hut, his eyes bulging. Kirara tugged at Kikuchiyo's sleeve, her face both worried and disapproving.
"I won't say I approved that, but now I'm concerned. You didn't see Takao anywhere near the grave site, did you?" Kikuchiyo shook his head, clenching his fists.
"No, but that doesn't mean he wasn't there. Dammit, little twerp! If he's hurt her, I'll—"
"Takao wouldn't hurt Komachi," Okara said firmly. "They're best friends; we've known him since we were kids." Kikuchiyo's visor glowed impatiently.
"If he took her rejection badly, he could be dangerous," he growled. Kirara wrung her hands nervously.
"He was pretty upset this morning. I thought he might try to pressure her, but he wouldn't go so far as to hurt her…would he?" Kikuchiyo huffed; he wasn't willing to wait and find out. With an angry blast of steam the mech samurai lumbered back towards the forest, drawing his sword and slinging it over his shoulder. Kirara and Okara quickly followed him to the village threshold. Kirara blocked his way before he could cross into the forest.
"Move, Kirara," Kikuchiyo growled. He loomed imposingly over her, his visor glowing bright orange. The elder water priestess stood her ground.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, steadily meeting his fiery gaze.
"I'm going to find Komachi."
"And?"
"And what?"
"What are you going to do if you find Takao?" Kikuchiyo snorted.
"If he's not involved I won't do anything to him. But, if he is…" He let out another blast of steam. Kirara gave him a steely look.
"How do you plan on finding her, or them?" she asked. Kikuchiyo chuckled ominously and tapped the front of his face plate.
"I'm a hound dog, remember? I'll smell 'em out." He revved the chainsaw motor on his sword for effect. "Now, move." Kirara gazed at him for a few more moments, then reluctantly stepped aside.
"Go then," she said quietly. "Find my sister…Make sure she's alright." Kikuchiyo stomped out of the village into the forest, grinding his jaws together as he searched for Komachi's scent.
"Count on it," he said under his breath.
Komachi's head throbbed so horribly it jostled her out of unconsciousness. She sat up, gasping for air, even though she wasn't out of breath at all, and then groaned at the pain lacing her body. She was so stiff; it was like she'd spent hours in the fields. Her jaw ached from where Takao had punched her. She tried to take in a few breaths to calm herself, but found it was difficult to draw in any large amount of air. Something was blocking her mouth. She raised a hand to feel the obstruction, only to find her other hand dragged up with it. A length of rope bound her wrists together. She felt at her mouth and found it covered by a cloth tied around behind her jaw. She tried to move, but found that her ankles were tied as well; she couldn't shift from the awkward position she found herself in.
Komachi looked around. She was sitting in a hut like any other in Kanna village; nondescript, maybe two rooms counting the one she was in now, and one door as an entrance/exit. The bed she sat on was a simple two-quilt futon. There were no decorations on the walls and the windows were covered. She could be anywhere in Kanna.
Komachi wriggled about, furiously trying to wrench her hands and ankles free of the ropes, but the knots had been tied by an expert hand; they wouldn't budge. She tried to scream for help, but the fabric was too tight around her mouth and muffled any sound she made. The imprisonment is positively suffocating.
Just then, the front door slid open, revealing a couple rays of evening sunset. A figure passed in front of the sun from the outside, the glare temporarily hiding him in shadow. Then he stepped inside and slid the door shut, cutting the sun off again.
'Oh spirits and gods,' she thought desperately, tears gathering in her eyes. It was Takao. He carried a lantern, which he placed in the front corner of the room after removing his sandals. He looked up and smiled at Komachi. It was a manic smile, eyes wide and cheeks taut, too many of his teeth showing; it was terrifying.
"Hey there, sleepyhead," he said softly, approaching her with measured steps. Komachi froze as he knelt down beside her, but she couldn't stop her shoulders from trembling. He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her brow. Komachi flinched away from him, whimpering. "Oh, hey, don't be like that," he said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. She stared at him from the corner of her eye, his frightening manic smile blurred by tears. "Sorry about the punch earlier; I got a little carried away." He ran a finger over her bruised jaw, causing flaring pain in the top of her head that mixed with the heavy sting of the bruise. Komachi's cry was muffled by the cloth around her mouth. He pouted and removed his finger. "I thought you were tougher than that, Komachi-chan," he whined. Anger caught flame in Komachi's brain at the sound of her name crossing his lips, and she turned her head to glare at him. She tried to shout a few choice words at him, but they couldn't make it past the cloth. "Oh, wait, hold on." Takao carefully pulled the cloth down so it was sat just below her chin. Komachi gasped and let out an angry shout, making Takao pull back, clutching his ears.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Komachi snarled, thrashing her bound hands about in an attempt to strike the young man. Takao leaned just out of reach, his smile turning playful.
"I just thought we needed some time alone," he said simply. With the speed of a snake he grabbed her bound wrists and held them down to the side, so that she was pulled awkwardly face-to-face with him. "You know, so we can get to know one another better. I'm sure if you just give us some time, you'll realize we fit perfectly together." Komachi's eyes widened, her heartbeat thumping loudly in her ears.
"I already told you, I don't love you," she said slowly, trying to pull away. Takao simply leaned his weight on her wrists, holding her in place.
"Well I think I can change that," he murmured. Slowly, he brought his free hand over to rest on Komachi's thigh. He slipped his hand under the fabric of her skirt-shorts so that his cold palm pressed against her skin. Her throat tightened and she wanted so much to recoil at the unwanted contact. However, her better reasoning told her the best thing to do right now would be to remain calm. The last thing she wanted to do was antagonize him. Maybe there was still room to reason.
"Takao, think about what you're doing," she said, as steady as she could. She did her best to keep the near-panic out of her voice. "Someone's going to realize we're missing eventually, and they'll come looking for us. This is something you don't want to be caught doing." Takao's smile widened slyly.
"Believe me, no one is going to find us here; hardly anyone in Kanna even remembers this hut still exists. It was built before the Nobuseri moved into these parts. We're completely alone." Komachi forced down the terror that rose in her chest, and decided it was time to start using threats.
"Takao, if you don't let me go right now I'm going to scream," she said, trying to sound confident. Takao chuckled evilly.
"There's no one around to hear you," he said, rubbing her thigh with his thumb. "It would be a waste of energy." Komachi took a few deep breaths and worked her face into a blank mask.
"I mean it," she replied. "If you don't untie me, I will scream." Takao's eyes darkened and he clenched the hand he held at her thigh. The action was painful but Komachi ignored it, holding his gaze.
"Please don't," he said quietly. Komachi stared at him, then screamed as loudly as she could, straining her vocal chords to reach their very peak. Takao winced and drew back for a moment, clutching his ears. Komachi shuffled away from him and drew just enough breath to give her scream a name.
"KIIIIIIIIKUUUUUCHIYOOOOO!" she hollered, cupping her hands around her mouth to try and give the scream more volume. But Komachi's scream was abruptly cut off when something struck her hard across the face. The impact was so great she toppled over onto her side, her scream turning into a strangled gasp. She looked around to see Takao standing over her, his hand still raised and his palm pink from the slap. His eyes were wild, his smile was gone and his teeth were bared; he was shaking with rage. Any trace of Komachi's voice died in her throat.
"I told you never to say his name," he snarled, "ever. You say it again I swear I'll hit you harder." A part of Komachi hopefully argued that such a threat was light compared to what he could have said, but the notion wasn't very reassuring. Takao leaned down and pulled Komachi back up into a sitting position, and then quickly yanked the cloth back up over her mouth to prevent any further outbursts. She shook her head and tried to shout, even though she knew no words would escape the smother. Takao stared at her for a moment, crouched beside her. He seemed to compose himself after a few breaths, and just like that his smile returned. He stroked her cheek lovingly, making the struck skin sting. Komachi cringed and shuddered in revulsion.
"Sorry about that," he said again. "I need to work on that anger thing. I promise I won't do it again as long as you keep quiet." He smiled at her, and Komachi wriggled under the intent of his gaze. She tried to look away, but he clutched her chin between his thumb and index finger and pulled her face back towards his. "I need to go get some water from the creek, but I promise I'll be back soon." He slipped his thumb up over the cloth and pulled it down to expose her lips again. Before Komachi could open her mouth to vocalize, Takao pressed his lips against hers in a forced, unwelcome kiss. Komachi squirmed and whimpered in protest at the sudden contact; his lips were cold and dry, like he hadn't had enough to drink in a while. He held her in place with his free hand planted on her shoulder, then broke the kiss and pulled the fabric back over her mouth before more than a huff could escape. "Love you," he said sweetly, then stood up and walked out of the hut without another word.
Komachi stared at the door where Takao had exited. Tears gathered in her eyes again and she slumped, her shoulders trembling as the hopeless sobs overtook her. She clasped her bound hands together and began to pray. She prayed for her life, for her freedom, for her womanly rights, and she prayed that someone, anyone, would find her.
The sun set quickly and the stars awoke soon after, leaving the Kanna forest in almost total darkness. Kikuchiyo pushed his way through the undergrowth, sniffing furiously at the air. He'd picked up Komachi's scent halfway up the path that led to the river, then followed it straight into the forest. He blew out several furious stacks of steam when he realized there was a second person's scent mixed in with hers. Even though he'd only met him once, Kikuchiyo was sure it was Takao's scent he discerned.
"That little bastard," he snarled to himself as he trudged between the thick birch trees. "If he's so much as touched her I'll slice him in two." Of course, there was a possibility that Komachi had gone with Takao willingly; she could have decided to go on a friendly walk with him or something. She might have even decided she wanted to give him a chance with the whole marriage thing… Kikuchiyo gnashed his jaws together and shoved the thought away. Komachi had said herself she didn't want to marry the guy, so why would she give him any chance? Besides, she'd already said how she felt about…him. Kikuchiyo's mind wandered back to the conversation at the grave site, how Komachi had sought out his comfort and companionship; how she had leaned on him and confessed her worries and feelings…He remembered how close she came, how honest her words had been. She'd stated very clearly how she felt about him, and she'd even tried to kiss him.
'And I just shut her down,' he thought bitterly. Maybe that was why she was with Takao; maybe she was hurt when he hadn't reciprocated her feelings. Kikuchiyo's steps slowed until he paused under a tree, his feet sinking into the grass at its base. It was nearly pitch black around him, but his visor was equipped with a night-vision setting; the light from his visor illuminated the leaves and branches hanging around his face. Should have he been more open with Komachi? Maybe if he hadn't been such a coward she wouldn't have felt the need to go to someone else…Is that why she was gone?
Kikuchiyo leaned against the tree, his thoughts becoming more tortuous by the second. Had he really chased her away? He didn't mean to; he was scared for her, and for himself. He wanted to keep his promise, but he was afraid of what that would mean for her, her health and status among her people. It was all terribly confusing…
The mech samurai's musings were suddenly interrupted when a strong foreign scent crossed his sensory range. He stiffened, sniffing. The scent definitely belonged to a farmer, but it was the mint-earthy tinge that gave away the owner: Takao. The plow worker was close, just outside Kikuchiyo's range of vision. The samurai took his weight off the tree and adjusted the decibel frequency on his audio receptors. He could hear footsteps and the sound of a body moving through the foliage off to the right of where he stood. The scent potency matched the loudness of the body, so it was definitely Takao he heard moving through the forest. By the weight of the footsteps it sounded like Takao was carrying something heavy, probably in one hand. Kikuchiyo listened intently as the footsteps, as well as the scent, rapidly started fading away; Takao was heading deeper into the forest. If he wasn't quick he would lose track of the farmer, and something in the mech's gut told him that wherever Takao went, Komachi would be there. Kikuchiyo waited until the young man's scent and footsteps were on the very edge of his sensory range, and then he started after him, taking as long strides as he could without making his usual clanging noise. His metal crutch lay abandoned at the base of a birch tree.
Kikuchiyo followed Takao deep into the forest, to a point where there wasn't a single human foot path to be seen. The trees grew so thick the sky disappeared altogether, leaving nothing but shadows and voids. Only the faintest aroma of lantern oil gave Kikuchiyo a clue as to how Takao could find his way in such powerful darkness. Kikuchiyo was careful not to step too heavily, although the thick forest grass greatly stifled his footsteps. He didn't want to chance Takao catching wind that he was being followed.
An hour passed before Kikuchiyo finally heard Takao's footsteps come to a halt. He slowed his approach, not wanting to catch up to Takao too quickly. He came to the entrance to a small glen where the trees were thin, and slid in behind a thick oak tree. Kikuchiyo peered around the trunk into the glen. The gap in the trees above allowed a little half-moonlight allowed at least some illumination to the scene unfolding before him.
Takao was standing outside a small, very old hut, carrying a wooden bucket filled to the brim with water in one hand and an oil lantern in the other. The hut's windows were all fastened shut, and only a single door lead in from the small stone porch below the front step. A few of the boards forming the walls seemed to be in danger of falling off, and the thatching in the roof was in need of replacement. Takao pulled the door aside and stepped into the hut, slipping his shoes off as he did. The glow from the lantern filled the hut for a brief moment before Takao slid the door shut, though the light was still visible through the door's canvas. Kikuchiyo cautiously stepped out into the glen and approached the house, taking each step with great measure. His knee joints ached and his torso felt weak from not having the support of the crutch, but the samurai ignored the pains and strained to hear when Takao started speaking from within the hut.
"Sorry that took so long; I wanted to stop and get some wild garlic for the soup." His voice sounded friendly, like he was talking to a guest, although Kikuchiyo could easily decipher the odd undertone beneath the simple statement. It sounded like Takao was holding back an outburst; unnerving. Kikuchiyo reached the hut and pressed the side of his head against the wall of the hut, listening. There was a strange, muffled squeaking coming from opposite of where Takao was, like sounds that were supposed to be words but didn't quite reach that expectation. However, the intent behind the words was plain: fear; pleading, worried fear. The person speaking, or rather failing to speak, was terrified. Kikuchiyo's heart started to pound, and his systems worked overtime. He sniffed the air tentatively, and his stomach twisted in terror. Komachi was in the hut, and something was preventing her from speaking; she was gagged.
Kikuchiyo had to fight a fresh wave of steam threatening to erupt from his vents. Komachi was in an abandoned hut with Takao, and she was gagged. Usually people who were gagged were also tied up. Takao had tied up Komachi. Rage built up from deep inside Kikuchiyo, threatening to overload his systems. His armor grew hot and his heart rate shot up like cannon fire. That sneaky little bastard! Kikuchiyo listened hard, wondering what Takao was planning to do with his captive. If he heard one single indication of violence…
Kikuchiyo unslung his sword and readied it at his hip. Any pain from his healing injuries was lost.
Komachi watched Takao ready the cooking pot over the small fire on the stone bench by the door. He slowly applied water to the pot and waited for it to boil. His face was totally blank, not a single clue as to what he might be thinking could be seen on his features. Komachi was trembling uncontrollably, tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks. Her throat was sore from trying to yell, and her joints ached from being in the same position for the last couple of hours. She desperately wanted to sleep so she could find relief from the searing headache that flared every so often, but she was terrified of what Takao might do to her if she did.
Takao had taken the oil lantern with him when he left to fetch water, so she'd sat in total darkness for nearly an hour and a half after the sun went down. The lantern was the only light source in the old hut, besides the cooking fire Takao was currently attending to. She wondered if he really planned to feed her; the thought brought some hope that at least he wouldn't let her die too easily. She still hoped to somehow escape, but right now staying alive was her greatest priority. Komachi sniffed, shuddering; it was hard to breathe through just her nose since the cloth around her mouth constricted her face and the back of her neck. Movement appeared in the corner of her eye and she looked up to see that Takao had turned towards her, the same sickening smile plastered on his pale face.
"It'll be a little bit before the water starts to boil," he said matter-of-factly. Komachi looked at him warily; she didn't like the way his dark eyes were traveling up and down her shaking body. He leaned forward onto his hands and knees and crawled towards her, his lip curling. "Maybe we should use this time to…get reacquainted with each other." He came so close the two of them were almost nose to nose. Komachi stared into his eyes, his dark, manic eyes. There was fire in them, deadly fire. She shook her head, whimpering pleadingly. He grinned, then placed a hand on her waist and pulled her to him, so that his face was at her neck and her jaw was trapped on his shoulder. "It's okay, Komachi-chan," he breathed, clenching her hip almost enough to be painful. "I love you, remember? I wouldn't dream of hurting you." He kissed her neck over and over with his cold, cracked lips. Komachi closed her eyes, praying for an escape from this nightmare.
Kikuchiyo's insides burned white-hot when he heard Takao's hushed proposition. He listened harder, straining to gage some sort of clue on Komachi's condition. He heard the shuffle of bodies and then Takao's deadly whisper. Then, he heard a pained whimper; Komachi's pained whimper. That was all the encouragement Kikuchiyo needed to finally give in to his rage. Everything turned red.
Komachi quivered as Takao ran his cold fingers along her collarbone and down her tunic. He breathed in against her hair then suddenly pulled away. She felt a flutter of hope that maybe he'd had his fill, but then he placed a hand on her chest and shoved her down onto the futon. She squeaked when her head hit the floor, and her eyes widened at the look of haunting hunger on his pallid face. Takao took in a rattling breath and ran his hand across her breast. Komachi closed her eyes gain, trying to find darkness.
But, suddenly, there came an alarming revving noise from outside the hut, accompanied by a loud, blasting hiss. Takao whipped around, a question on his lips. Before he could ask it, an enormous enraged bellow rang out from the dark, and the whole front half of the hut was torn apart. A huge bronze serrated blade hacked at the wood and straw thatching of the hut until they rained in pieces away from the rest of the structure. Komachi looked up towards the gaping hole into the darkness of the forest beyond, craning her neck to see around Takao. The giant blade disappeared for a moment, and then the hole was suddenly filled with a solid wall of steaming, vengeful metal samurai. Komachi's eyes widened and she shouted against her mouth gag. Kikuchiyo stepped into the main room of the hut, his visor glowing and steam shooting out of his exhaust pipe. Takao stared in disbelief at the mech, his mouth hanging open. He was half-twisted around, one hand still planted on Komachi. The samurai raised his chainsaw sword and pointed it at Takao, so that the blade tip was only a foot away from the farmer's nose.
"Take your filthy hands off of her you dirty bastard!" Kikuchiyo thundered. Komachi's heart thudded and her insides fell out somewhere behind her. She'd never heard Kikuchiyo sound so utterly murderous; it was almost as terrifying as it was uplifting. But she was only a little bit frightened; the rest of her was so relieved she started to weep anew. Takao's gaze turned steely, and he slowly rose to his feet to turn and face the intruder.
"What the hell are you doing here, samurai?" he asked, his voice venomous. Kikuchiyo growled and slammed his sword into the floor at Takao's feet, splitting the wood completely. The impact nearly launched Komachi off the ground. She laboriously yanked herself up into a sitting position and craned around to catch Kikuchiyo's visor. He glanced at her for a brief moment before returning his attention to Takao.
"Why do you think I'm here?" he snapped, wrenching his sword out of the hole in the floor. Takao didn't move.
"Why are you here?"
"I'm here for Komachi, you creep!" He raised his blade again, revving the engine aggressively. "Step away from her, or the next thing I'll split is your skull!" Takao didn't move. Instead, he smirked.
"She doesn't want to leave," he sneered, "she was just telling me how much she liked it here. You wasted your time in coming to find her, mech." Komachi shook her head violently, finally deciding she'd had enough of being submissive. She reached up and tugged the cloth off of her mouth with a hard jerk.
"Kiku! Please, get me out of here!" Kikuchiyo's flaming gaze locked on her. Takao looked over his shoulder, his eyes wild. Komachi reached out towards the samurai, blinking through the tears. "I knew you'd come, Kiku! Please, help me!" Before Kikuchiyo could reply, Takao spun down and cracked his hand across Komachi's face, spurring a pained cry from her.
"I TOLD YOU NOT TO SAY HIS NAME!" Takao screamed, seizing the young woman's shoulders and giving her a jarring shake.
Kikuchiyo roared and lunged at Takao, swinging his sword back out of the way. He reached over, grabbed the back of the youth's tunic and flung him bodily across the hut. Takao crashed against the opposite wall, knocking over the cooking pot and spilling boiling water everywhere, including on his right leg. While Takao screeched in pain and clutched at his burning leg, Kikuchiyo rushed to Komachi's side and tore the ropes binding her wrists and ankles. She untied the gag hanging from her collar and threw her arms around the mech's armored neck, sobbing in relief. Kikuchiyo held her close, one large hand stroking her hair and the other at her back, enveloping her in his bulk.
"Oh, Kiku, Kiku!" Komachi wept into his shoulder, trembling and close to hysteria.
"Shhh, it's okay sweetie," Kikuchiyo murmured, "I'm here. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."
Across the hut, Takao slowly pulled himself to his feet, hissing at the blazing pain that shot through his burned leg. He glowered at the samurai holding the water priestess, fury burning through him like wildfire. He reached down under the step from the torn front of the hut and pulled out something long and metal, while simultaneously reaching into his tunic pocket…
Through her tears of relief, Komachi saw Takao rise to his feet and suddenly stumble towards them, his left arm pulling back. She tensed and gasped in alarm.
"Kiku-!" Kikuchiyo heard the danger a half second before it activated. He shoved Komachi away from him just as the flat end of a huge ball-point hammer collided heavily with the side of the mechanical samurai's armored head. Komachi screamed as Kikuchiyo was violently thrown sideways a few feet, landing with a thud at the back of the hut. "No! Kiku!" She scrambled towards him but was wrenched backwards by Takao, his hand latched onto her wrist.
Kikuchiyo's processor ran overtime trying to reboot his systems, whirring and computing furiously to bring his function back online. His visor flickered on and off a couple of times, so his visual feed came back in short disjointed bursts. His brain throbbed from the force of the impact and his audios rang, making everything muffled and incoherent. The mech would have shut down for at least an hour to make the repairs easier to maintain, if not for his boiling rage and self-awareness forcing him to stay conscious. He could barely make out Komachi's stifled cries mixed in with Takao's menacing threats, but their tone alone was all he needed for motivation. With a creaking groan, the mech samurai rolled over and pushed himself to his hands and knees, steam blasting from his vents with the effort of moving. He hauled himself to one knee, then up into a standing position. He reached down and dragged his sword off the ground to his side, then turned to face Takao, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs and the heavy throb in his head, blinking his visor to clear the static from his visual feed. His heart quickened when his vision cleared for a moment, and he saw Takao clutching Komachi close to his front, his hand around her neck.
Komachi struggled against Takao's iron grip; he had his left arm wrapped around her shoulders with his hand at her throat. He squeezed when she fought and temporarily cut off her air. She stopped struggling, and he eased the pressure. She watched Kikuchiyo sluggishly heave himself to his feet, dragging his sword up with him, and turn to face them. A horrified sob escaped her throat when she saw the huge dent in the side of the mech's metal head. The dent sank dangerously deep into Kikuchiyo's helm, nearly caving in one side of his visor and completely crushing one audio receptor. Blood and oil slowly dribbled down the side of Kikuchiyo's head, pooling in a dark stain on his shoulder. Probably as a result of the injury, his right hand twitched and could not keep a proper grip on his sword. Fresh new tears spilled forth from Komachi's eyes.
"Oh, Kiku," she sobbed, but couldn't get out another word because Takao wickedly squeezed her throat for a second time. Kikuchiyo's visor flickered from black to flaming orange and back several times, and he let out a low, beastly growl.
"Let. Her. Go," he rumbled. His voice was surprisingly strong after taking such a gruesome hit. Takao tched and clutched Komachi closer to his front, taking a step back. Kikuchiyo stepped forward, raising his sword. "Let her go, or you're dead."
The farmer and the mech stared at each other for a few agonizing moments. The tension grew so tangible Komachi could almost see the lighting passing between the two. Then, moving so fast neither Komachi nor Kikuchiyo caught it at first, Takao whipped out an iron pistol from beneath his tunic and pressed the barrel to Komachi's temple. Komachi felt the cold metal against her skin and thought her heart had stopped. A whimper passed her lips. Kikuchiyo's visor flared a bright, hot gold, and he took another step towards the two of them, swinging his sword high.
"Move another inch and she's dead!" Takao screeched. Kikuchiyo froze, his sword suspended up above his head. Komachi looked up into his visor, knowing he was looking back. Her heart still felt cold. The samurai switched his gaze to Takao, then to the gun in his hand. Takao's face was right in Komachi's blind spot, but judging by the shaking of the gun he held to her head, he must have looked pretty mad by now. Kikuchiyo let off a stack of steam.
"You wouldn't dare," he snarled. Takao pushed the gun barrel harder into Komachi's temple, making her gasp. She snapped her eyes shut for a moment, feeling dizzy from the pressure of the barrel on such a soft spot on her skull.
"Put down your sword, mecha," Takao ordered, his voice shuddering. Kikuchiyo hesitated, and Komachi opened her eyes again to catch his visor. The mech took in a shaking breath, and then dropped his sword behind him. The giant bronze blade stuck in the wooden floor at the mech's back. The second the sword's handle left Kikuchiyo's grasp, Takao whipped the gun around and fired. Komachi's heart started back up with a thump, and she screamed.
Kikuchiyo heard the shot before he felt the impact of the bullet, and he heard Komachi's scream beforehe heard the shot.
"NOOOOO!" Then a shearing, burning iron spike of pain drove through Kikuchiyo's side. The bullet sheared straight through his armor and passed straight through the other side, hitting the wall with as almost a loud a bang as the shot. Kikuchiyo doubled over, his breath catching in his throat. A warning flashed in his visual feed, and a quick schematic appeared showing where the bullet had hit rose to the front of his sight. He clutched at his left side and shuddered at the pain, falling to his knees. His head tilted down until all he could see was the floor, while Komachi's frantic shriek sounded from in front. "KIKU! NO!" Warmth spread around Kikuchiyo's hand where he cupped the wound, and he tasted copper and oil.
Komachi screamed again and reached out towards Kikuchiyo, abandoning all sense of self or safety. He was shot. Kikuchiyo was shot. No. Not again. She tried to run to him, but Takao yanked her back by the shoulder and tossed her to the floor behind him, temporarily knocking the wind out of her. Komachi coughed and looked up at Takao through misty eyes. The plow worker stepped towards the fallen mech, his gun trained at Kikuchiyo's helm.
"You idiot mecha," Takao spat, his voice a deadly undertone. "You really think I'd kill the woman I love? You're denser than the Nobuseri foot soldiers." Kikuchiyo coughed and groaned, curling over until his forehead touched the floor. Komachi sobbed, reaching a hand out to him. Takao leveled his gun at the samurai's head, his finger curling the trigger. He lifted his lip in a maniacal sneer. "Once you're gone, Komachi and I can finally be alone." Komachi stared up at the young man she had once counted as her friend, then to the gun in his hand. He was going to kill him. He was going to kill Kikuchiyo. Her friend, her protector; her love. Komachi curled her fingers into a fist without even realizing it. She was on her feet without even remembering moving her legs. Her vision turned red.
Kikuchiyo felt the hard round barrel of the pistol tap the back of his helm. The pain pushing through his body was one he thought he'd been rid of for years. The schematics in his visual feed told him that the bullet had passed cleanly through his oblique armor and muscle cables through the other side. No organs were damaged, and no vital oil reservoirs or blood vessels had been punctured. In reality, the wound was not life-threatening; one might even say it was glancing, if lucky. The pain was just so horrible, like he'd been stabbed with a railroad spike. His bruised ribs were protesting as well, as if the impact had jarred them. He was bleeding both oil and blood, and if he didn't stem the flow there was a danger of his systems shutting down. The bullet had torn several lengths of muscle cables and burned away a chunk of armor on both sides of his body. So, the wound was serious, just not fatal. The gun pointed at his head; now that was fatal. Kikuchiyo heard Takao's hissed ultimatum and felt the cold fingers of death stroke at his armored neck. Was he really going to die here, after escaping death by an inch so many years ago? Komachi…if he died she'd be defenseless against this maniac. He couldn't die here, not now. Not when Komachi needed him. He was a samurai; he was not going to die from a simple gunshot to the head. Kikuchiyo willed his systems to get back to work, trying to force the shock from his body. He had to move. He heard Takao's finger touch the trigger on the pistol, and his heart pounded. Maybe it was too late.
'Komachi,' he thought desperately, 'I—'
But, suddenly, the barrel of the gun was wrenched away. Kikuchiyo heard a strangled cry from Takao, followed by a forced curse and a grunt. He forced himself to straighten up, growling at the dragging pain from his torn muscle cables. He gaped at what he saw. Komachi had flung herself onto Takao, one arm around his neck and the other around his head. She cursed at him and pulled at his hair, kicking the backs of his thighs. Takao shouted and staggered backward, trying to throw her off. His pistol was still clutched in one hand, but he seemed to temporarily forget he had it. Instead he clawed at Komachi's arms and shook his upper body back and forth, trying to dislodge her.
"Komachi, no! Get away!" Kikuchiyo shouted, his heart flying in panic. He tried to get a foot under himself so he could push up into a stand, but his torn muscle cables couldn't execute the leverage. Takao roared like a mad ape and threw himself back, taking Komachi with him. Unfortunately, the two of them were too close to the opposite side of the hut for such a radical maneuver, and the back of Komachi's head smacked hard against the wall. There was a sickening crack, and the water priestess let out a surprised cry before crashing to the floor, freeing Takao. "KOMACHI!" Kikuchiyo stared, horrified, at her still form. Her eyes were closed, the tiniest trickle of blood stood stark against the skin of her forehead beneath her fringe.
Kikuchiyo felt as if the floor had dropped out from beneath him, and the sky had disappeared. The world seemed to narrow, to where all he saw was Komachi's limp, lifeless form.
'No…No!' he screamed in his head. He ran a scan over her—luckily she was within range—stilling his breath for a brief, horrifying moment. The results of the scan were enough to bring tears to his visor. The readings showed she had a concussion, but her brain wasn't bruised or bleeding and her skull wasn't cracked. Her heartbeat was subdued because she was unconscious, but it was still there. There was still breath in her lungs, still a beat in her heart. She was alive. Kikuchiyo sighed, but then snapped his attention back to reality when he saw Takao turn around. The youth stared down at the unconscious Komachi, his eyes wide, his hands shaking.
"You…How could you…Why would you do this…?" he gasped. He looked back at Kikuchiyo, and his shock contorted to rage. "You did this for him!" He whipped back around and pointed his gun at Komachi. "You traitorous bitch! You'd rather have him? Fine! I'll just kill you both!"
Time slowed down. Kikuchiyo did not think, he did not hesitate, he did not speak; he acted. He twisted his torso around so far and fast he nearly ripped the oblique muscle cables in his uninjured side, grabbed the hilt of his sword, and swung the blade around as hard as he could, a thunderous roar tearing from his jaws. There was a scream, a splash of red, and then two heavy, wet thuds. Kikuchiyo gasped and stared forward, his sword slung back over his opposite shoulder. Takao was lying on the floor beside Komachi, his eyes blank and his mouth open, his face frozen halfway between shock and the same insane glare. The lower part of his body from the waist down lay in a crumpled heap behind him, legs tangled, pelvis shredded. Blood flowed like a waterfall out of the severed ends of the youth's body, forming a miniature lake of crimson. The blood lapped at Komachi's arms and chest, and she let out a small moan.
Kikuchiyo took in a few shaky breaths, then let out a long, loud blast of steam from every vent in his body. He stuck his sword into the floor and pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the pain his side. He carefully stepped over the two halves of Takao and knelt at Komachi's side, pressing a blood-soaked gloved finger to her neck. Her pulse was steady but faint; she was still alive. Sighing in relief, Kikuchiyo gingerly gathered Komachi's limp form into his arms and lifted her off the ground, inching slowly into a standing position so as not to jostle her. He adjusted her so that her head and neck were safely propped up against his shoulder, and cradled her close to his chest. He could feel her steady breathing, her quivering heartbeat, mixing in with his own shuddering systems.
Kikuchiyo would have stood there for at least a few more minutes, just reveling in Komachi's wonderful aliveness, had it not been for the strong scent of blood filling his olfactory sensors. The dank odor of Takao's lifeless fluid was too much for the sensitive mech to handle, and Kikuchiyo promptly turned to exit the near-destroyed hut. He made sure to bend down and carefully scoop his sword into one hand before carrying Komachi away, out into the forest under the cover of night.
Komachi stirred, feeling as though her body was coming back into existence piece by agonizing piece. Her head felt like it had split open across the back, and her neck ached horribly. She groaned and tried to sit up, but her muscles wouldn't obey. There was a grunt at her side and she felt something both soft and hard close around her. Komachi didn't try to move again—she didn't think she could—but she did force her eyes to open as far as they would go, which wasn't very far. It was dark, and it was cool. She could hear the chirp of frogs and the rasp of insects weaving through the air, and the fresh smell of water and leaves crossed her nostrils. She was moving, but not by her own power; someone was carrying her, someone big, with strong, gentle, metal arms. She laboriously raised her hand and settled it on her carrier's chest. She felt a warm, comforting heat, a hard armored surface beneath a loose tunic, and a powerful beating heart of metal and muscle. There was a soft rumble her shoulder and back, and a deep, soothing voice vibrated against her neck and cheek.
"It's alright Sapling, I've got you. Nothing's going to hurt you now. You're safe, I promise." Komachi sighed and closed her eyes, clutching at her savior's shirt and carefully nuzzling his shoulder with her cheek.
"Kiku…"