A/N: Forgive the extensive flashbacks. Just keep in mind their disorienting with reason.

DuckiePray - Don't write off Tlaloc, Friend. You know people aren't always what they seem. /points to Xander/

Sceincegal - Gotta build back up what he lost in every way!

CHAPTER 25: MOZALLO

Sensei, how is the clan? I know you can't answer, but…I wonder.

It's been a long time. Months, I think. Hope you weren't too concerned when the mail stopped. Something happened. I shouldn't downplay it; it was life-changing. Still…How should I put this? I can't reveal much; that was part of the agreement I had made with the man who will send this letter. And it feels weird writing after so long.

Uh, let's see. I've met some people. Natives. They've been good to me. Better than I deserve, frankly. At the start, I had been ungrateful and hostile. I wanted nothing to do with them, but that's all changed. I don't know exactly when or how, just that everything is tied to a core group. And a bird. One, in particular, stands out. A human that is.

She'll remain nameless. Another condition. That's okay; she's more than a name or title, anyway. She's a friend. You and Mike would love her. She's funny and compassionate, if a little pushy, and…geez, should this feel awkward through words? To be honest, I'm unsure what I should say except that I owe her. A lot. Even though I was a stranger at my worst, she never shied away. She pulled me from a dark place, and while I'm not out completely, she has my hand…

I needed time to sort things out. Now that the chatter in my head isn't as paralyzing, my thoughts linger on home and this place. On her. I'm writing again because I'm confused. I should be excited, yet the more I consider my return, the deeper my stomach sinks. Why? That won't be for a while; I will repay her generosity before then. We have another trial to face together soon. It makes it all the worse because it'll bring us closer, whether we want it to or not, and whenever we grow closer, I notice her more. Like she's a force of nature rather than a person. It's unsettling, really. I wish you could reply to—

"Mo-eesh-pahntz-ink-oh, Leo."

Leonardo's quill hovered over his parchment on his lap. The tip dripped ink at the letter's bottom, but he ignored the mistake to meet Coyolxauhqui's stare, knowing her polite excuse meant something troubled her. The tribeswoman shifted inside the Library hut's doorway, hand clenched around the curtain that hung from it. She then glanced at the mutant's work. He would've felt a need to hide it had it not been written in Japanese, but it was.

So he casually set the writing materials aside, saying, "Has something happened with Zaddir or the Tonalquizca?"

"A—Amo," answered Coyo.

"Then what is it?"

The Chieftain inhaled—a crisp, long act. "I'm ready."

"For?"

"Mozallo, Leonardo. Coyo ready for Mozallo."

"Is this necessary?" Leonardo asked Zaddir. He stood beside Coyolxauhqui inside Intzalan, and the glow from the Languu's body revealed a frown on the turtle-man's face. "What does it matter if Coyo and I bond? You're connected with us either way."

'Understand, Leonardo,' Zaddir said. Perhaps it was the circumstance, but Coyo heard her parents' voices saturate the alien's multi-tone. 'Mozallos with you and Coyo are like ropes tied to each arm. The energy travels in opposing directions, always shifting. It is strenuous.'

"But will bonding really help?"

Zaddir paused, back turned and lights slowing. 'I cannot say. This has never happened before. Even so, we must try. The energy cycle must be completed. Please. Without this—'

"Quizzinteyo claim Zaddir Yohualli," Coyo interjected. "Coyo no let happen."

"You've done a lot, Zaddir," added Leo. "Don't think me ungrateful, but you've been in my head. Coyo shouldn't have to take on…" The turtle-man trailed off with an unreadable expression. Was he angry? Scared? He had every reason to be, yet Coyo sensed a deeper hesitation and spared a smile when he glanced at her.

"Coyo okay," she said. "Is sorry."

Leo's eye ridges knitted. "For what?"

"Same as Leo."

'Sit'—Zaddir's command made Coyo jump—'face one another and hold hands.'

As Leo kneeled, he sent the alien an odd look, asking, "Hold hands?"

"No ask," Coyo answered while doing likewise.

Her scarred legs touched the turtle-man's once seated, and she found herself stricken by their healthy state. To think, they once bent sideways. Now they grew thicker with muscles for each day that he trained with the Tonalquizca. Nice, defined muscles that almost spanned the width of her thighs.

'Coyolxauhqui.' Zaddir held back a chuckle only the young woman could sense. For now.

Coyo glanced up, curly hair bouncing, then took Leonardo's hands. She smiled when his eye ridges knitted tighter, but was distracted by how calloused and warm his palms felt. They enveloped her, leaving her feeling small and vulnerable. It was a strange sensation, which kept her quiet while Zaddir sat down as well.

'To bond, you must reflect on prominent milestones in your lifetimes,' the Languu said. Heat from her ghostly hand strengthened when she touched the duo's foreheads. It stung, although somehow Leo's grip felt hotter. 'Consider what defines you, what you value, what has shaped you. And attempt to find a common thread to tie your minds together.'

How did one decide something so profound? Should Coyo consider those she grew up with? Teachers, maybe? Family?

"We have walked similar paths," Leonardo said. "As leaders."

"Coyo no leader," Coyolxauhqui replied. Her fingers curled below the turtle-man's large hands. "Mantli know."

"You never talk about your mother. Or father, come to think of it. Yet you'll listen to stories of my clan for hours."

Was Leo insinuating Coyo should show him the reason why? How would that bond them? Their childhoods were as different as night and day, and she hated remembering her mother's lifeless voice…

Coatlicue reclaimed her hand as she stepped along the high hill. Coyo reached forward—her mother could not see any roots or rocks—but the older woman walked with her chin raised. From behind, she resembled a skeleton draped with over-sized clothes lined with feathers, and every bone that stretched her blotchy skin sickened Coyo.

"Your mercy will lead to our extinction," Coatlicue said. "Our hunting grounds are running dry. The Yaoqui's numbers replenish faster than we can raise new warriors. The Teo are tethered like old trees. And you are last in a line of great Chieftains."

"There is another, Huitzi," Coyo added with clenched fists.

"And he would lead if he did not carry Omipalan as I do."

"He does not have—"

Coatlicue spun and glared at her daughter with yellowed, unseeing eyes. "When will the denial cease, Child? Huitzi and I will decay, join Tonalquizca Atl alongside Ometeotl. And you will be alone." The Chieftain's voice cracked as her lower jaw trembled. She wanted to cry, and Coyo wished for once, she would forsake the rule about public weakness. "Your duty is to your people and Eztaca," Coatlicue continued. "Do what is best for them. Not yourself."

Even until death, Coatlicue thought her daughter as selfish as Tacapantzin. And maybe she was. But why should she be tasked with making such terrible choices? Because she was born into a royal bloodline?

"You had no choice." Was that Leonardo's voice? "I had wanted to lead while you…"

Coyo kept her eyes closed. Warmth replaced Coatlicue's dying face. The late Chieftain faded from thought as a new image emerged. Three other turtle-men stood facing her. Or was she Leonardo? She felt a sense of pride she knew wasn't her own, and stood taller than she ever had before. Although nothing was said, she somehow understood their smiles, their respect. Was this what it felt like to be admired?

"Leadership is a tough balance," Leo continued. "I—I've failed in that. Many times. Worst of all was when I wasn't there for Mikey."

"Mikey?" whispered Coyo, throat tight.

Leonardo knew he would be in for another long night of sore muscles and insomnia the moment Michelangelo hugged him. The Jonin balanced on the edge of his little brother's twin-sized bed, one leg over its side, and kept one arm wrapped around the youngest's shoulders. He noticed the trembles through Mikey's body. They had slowed yet persisted. They likely would continue for a few months.

'Raph is right; this is my fault,' Leo thought, focusing on his brother's contorted expression. Yeah, he'd be waking from another nightmare soon, and the reason why brought Leo's gaze to his brother's legs. Thick stitches ran from his outer ankles up towards the bridge of his shell like zippers. They marked where Bishop had cut him open, grafted metal over his bones. 'I waited no more than ten minutes. Ten minutes. Now he's…'

Damaged. He refused to shower alone because water reminded him of the containment tank that had kept him trapped. He lacked an appetite, so his weak state had digressed into Pneumonia. He had no will to play video games or joke. He was quiet, only mumbling something about a 'Christina' in his sleep.

And it was all Leonardo's fault.

"I've let down loved ones, too," Leo said. Coyo understood the pain in his tone. It left her breathless as if it were her own. "Raph wouldn't talk with me. Don lost himself in caring for Mikey. All because of my poor choice."

"Mikey heal. Family help."

"It took months. And left physical and emotional scars."

"Scars better than death. If parents"—the young woman cringed—"if my family together…"

"You would feel stronger."

How did Leonardo know that? Mozallo? Could he see everything? Every secret? Every fear? Did he count how many lonely days Coyolxauhqui spent at Huelihca? Understand why she felt drawn to Zaddir's nature? Could he hear her mother's final words or feel the sorrow that bonded her and Izel like sisters?

The Calpocatl was not unscathed, either; she had watched her father Patli succumb to despair many seasons ago. Coyo recalled the putrid scent from his body in the Dry Season heat after he slit his throat. Izel had cradled him for hours before Coyo found them, and all this not long after her mother Citlalmina died in battle.

Is that the legacy Coatlicue left behind—one of death, orphans, and warriors driven mad by violence? Coyo saw no future if they continued to fight. That is why her people needed a better leader, someone worthy.

'Coyolxauhqui,' Zaddir sounded panicked, 'do not succumb to these emotions. We are not yet ready for—'

The truth? What did it matter? Coyo would never be ready—not to be Chieftain, not to save her people, not even to admit how dire the K'ekchi's position was. All shame and self-loathing morphed into a sensation that locked the young woman's limbs. She remembered it well: the disembodied sense of overwhelming adrenaline. It had left her powerless under the assault of her own father...

"How did you find us?" Atl asked, spear raised. Blood coated its tip, and Coyolxauhqui watched as red dribbled down its shaft. It was blood from his closest comrades, his friends, yet he sneered as if it were cursed. "I should have known," the warrior added. "You sneaky bastards always know where we are. You infiltrated us. How?"

"A—Atl," Coyo said. "Tatli, please."

"I am not your father."

Atl charged, and Coyo dodged. A knick along her calf made her hiss, but she knew better than to stop. She kept running, rounding fallen bodies of both K'ekchi and Yaoqui.

"Tatli," she cried, "it is Coyo!"

"Lies!"

Atl tossed his spear. It struck the girl's shoulder blade so fiercely, it spun her twice. She landed on her back, the spear's head piercing under her collarbone with a squishing noise. The weapon swayed, anchored at the base by Coyo's body, and blood sprinkled her face as she glanced upwards.

Atl brandished a flint knife at her feet, his wild eyes bright. "I knew you would come," he whispered. "You had been on the outside for so long no one considered you could ever make it inside. How did you do it? How did you bypass Xelihuiyan?"

"I did not," Coyo answered. She scooted backward on her good arm. "I have been touched by the Teo through my genes, your genes."

"You are notmy child!"

"I am. I see Xelihuiyan, too. It is yellow-white. Makes our sky seem unique."

Atl paused. His long face scrunched his tattoos, but the more he stared, the darker his eyes became. "How could you know that?"

"Because I am your daughter."

"That cannot be. My daughter will not fight. She would never be here."

"I had no choice. I needed to come because your mind—"

"Has never revealed so much. It is opened. All those voices finally make sense."

"No!" Coyo hissed, tugging at the spear protruding from her shoulder. It shot pain through her nerves, yet she smiled. "Tatli, those voices are not real. Never have been. Me? I am real. So please, listen. Pu—put down the knife."

"Yes," Atl spoke to the side at someone unseen. "It seems I cannot even trust my own people."

"Wh—what? No! You can. Trust me; I am your daughter."

"I"—the man shook his balding head—"I know what you are. What you all are. You disguised yourself with modern sorcery. Entered our ranks. Attacked!"

"No." Coyo dared not glance at the fallen Tonalquizca, sitting up further. "I am Coyolxauhqui, not a Yaoqui!"

"You would say anything not to die. And die you must."

Atl charged again with his weapon lifted high, and Coyo's body acted without consent. She pulled the spear from her shoulder, poised its butt on the ground as the man's momentum impaled him through his left breast. Coyo watched his torn skin slide down the stained, metal shaft. His wide eyes glossed over, he croaked, and she swore she heard his heart stop. Then, everything dropped—his knife, his arms, his body, and her tears.

Coyo had watched the life leave both her parents, witnessed numerous pyre funerals. Soon, her brother would face a similar fate. So in the end, what did it matter? Why move forward when those she loved were all but dead already?

'Coyolxauhqui! Leonardo!' Zaddir's voice was muddled as if she was underwater or drowned beneath the cold sensation that left Coyo paralyzed and sweating.

They're dead, Leonardo, and there's nothing you could do about it. You assured them your brothers would help. But they didn't, did they? You lied. Because you're weak, a failure. You couldn't save one boy. An old man. Or two women literally within reach. It was right none of them believed you.

"You will be in my position one day, Coyolxauhqui," said Coatlicue. "By then, you must contain your emotions."

That would be a miserable life, Coyolxauhqui decided. To hide how hurt, terrified or enraged she felt would be like wearing a grim mask. Just like the one Coatlicue wore as she stared into the pyre stretching towards Xelihuiyan.

Maybe that was his reality. He was never meant to save. Is that why he kept failing? Is that why his best was rarely good enough? He tried overcoming that fault, yet failed at that, too.

"Please." Izel looked up from where she sat in her father's thick blood. Insects buzzed around his slit throat, and red smears over Izel's face cracked from age. "Coyo," she croaked. "Save him."

"Science dictates risk, Melody!" Stephen's whimsy fell victim to impatience, but only for a moment. "Don't fret; Recro-12 will suit them beautifully. Now, if you would secure their gag sticks? We wouldn't want them swallowing their tongues, would we?"

"Coyo." Huitzi smiled, although his labored breath made him seem weary. "Please. If you avoid this any longer, I"—the man repressed a cough—"I will no longer be among the living to help."

"If Mikey nevah walks again, Fearless, that's on you! Ya hear me?"

"Execute him, Coyolxauhqui!"

"You are Jonin, my son. That is no easy burden."

"The child will never learn. She is too much like Tacapantzin."

"I'm sorry. So sorry."

"Ho—how can I face losing you too?"

"Zaddir, make it stop!" Coyolxauhqui screamed. But the memories persisted with the fury of a river current. They overwhelmed her, bringing with them voices and emotions that made her temples throb. The woman gasped in hopes of air, yet found no oxygen, just darkness and mud.