Chapter three!
It was a beautiful day. Too beautiful, if you asked for Sasha's opinion. Spring had really done a number in the valley, melting all the snow and growing flowers in its place. By virtue of being empty for weeks until yesterday, nature had taken over around the mill; vines overgrowing its walls and grass reaching your knee. The backyard specially was lush with flowers of every color and shape.
A perfect place to hold a funeral. Maybe that's what got Sasha so worked up. It was like the whole world was telling her this was meant to be; that they were meant to say farewell to Marcy in that place, that same day. As if there was some kind of cosmic meaning to be found in all this, even in death. Or maybe Sasha's body hasn't eliminated all the booze she drank yesterday. Either way, Sasha was bent over and on the verge of throwing up.
"Try to keep it together. We haven't even started yet." Grime rubbed circles on Sasha back. He was at her right, while Joe Sparrow was at her left, its leg roped up to a boulder.
In front of her was the open grave, deep enough to cast vertigo into your soul.
Three hours of restless sleep is all they got last night, followed by two hours of paralyzing hangover. Then they spent a whole hour digging the hole, another hour they wasted at town buying a sack of seeds and dried worms that Joe Sparrow could eat, and two whole hours looking for the right tombstone. They finally settled for a square and plain looking one. It wasn't perfect, but it would've to do.
The sun was at its two o'clock and the companions had been staring at the grave for fifteen minutes now. From time to time, Joe would tilt its neck to peep inside the hole. Sasha was convinced the bird was smart enough to understand something was going on. Maybe not that he was in a funeral for its former master, no, but something.
Sasha gave herself a punch in the chest. Her throat burnt as the vomit receded.
"Let's get this over with before I lost it."
"Agree." Grime scratched his growing beard. "So. We're here, the hole's open. What do we do now?"
"What do you mean 'what do we do'? You said you've hosted funerals before," Sasha said.
"Gladiator funerals. Soldier funerals. Toad funerals. This one doesn't check any of those boxes."
Sasha rubbed her temples. Headaches are supposed to go away after a hangover, not get stronger. "Alright. First of all, we're already off to a bad start. We should be dressed in black for the ceremony."
"Are you kidding me? These are our finest —and only— clothes!" Grime showed off his battle armor, now clean of blood and muck. "Unless you want me to wear my pajamas-"
"Don't you dare," Sasha snapped at him. She too was wearing her red armor and a brand new cape she bought at town.
"Anyway, you're right. We don't have anything black but the curtains, so let's skip it." Sasha shrugged, metal clanking as she moved. The lack of etiquette was a disappointment. "Now comes the part when everyone says something nice about the… departed. Usually it's the priest that starts it, but we don't have one."
Grime rubbed his neck, deep in thought. "I could make my way to the abbey uphill. Steal a monk real fast. They won't even notice it."
Sasha entertained the thought of having a frog monk on a funeral, if only because it was so damn funny. She dismissed the idea at the end.
"There's no need. Priests are stupid anyway. You can't pay a few bucks to a stranger to say some overused speech about how nice the other person was. Especially if they never even meet them in life," said Sasha, unusually bashful. "I don't want that for Marcy."
Grime nodded solemnly. "I understand what you mean. So I guess I'll start," he added, more cheerfully.
Sasha rolled her eyes at the sky, hoping Someone, Something, would smite her there and then. "Grime that would be exactly the same thing. You didn't even-"
"No no, it'll be fine. I wrote some good stuff last night after you passed out."
He fished a piece of yellow paper from his pocket. Off to a great start…
Grime unfolded the paper and read it, first to himself, then out loud: "I never knew Marcy, its true. Although I did heard of her deeds." Sasha shuddered. What was Grim playing at? "I know how she crash-landed on Amphibia, an alien in a world she knew nothing about, and made herself useful to the most powerful —and ugly— newt of the land. I heard she did many great things for the people of Newtopia, even though they weren't their species or liked her at all. She was brave enough to mount a bird as a steed, and bright enough to solve a thousand year old riddle in a magical artifact all by herself.
"Maybe she made some mistakes." Grime searched for Sasha's eyes. She dodged his gaze, noise threatening to overcome her senses again. "And to that I say Bah! Who can affirm they don't have regrets? We carry all our sins over our shoulders. It's easy to feel bad about it. What's hard it's to do what's right. I should know; I've never done it myself. But my strongest memory of Marcy will always be of her fighting side by side with her friends 'til the bitter end."
Sasha felt like her chest was being stabbed constantly and with no remorse. Now she understood why people always look at their feet at funerals —so they don't have to look at each other faces.
"So it's true, I didn't know Marcy. But I know Sasha. And anyone who can say to be her best friend would've been a good friend of mine."
Grime spoke again, in a way that felt rehearsed and not his own. "May the winds of the Underworld take you swiftly to your Ancestors, Marcy Wu."
After this, Grime folded the paper and brought it to his face, blowing loudly in it. And to add to the injury, he folded the goo-wet paper and put it into his pocket. Sasha was equal parts grossed out and emotionally touched.
"Nice," she said simply. "For a speech done under the influence, I mean."
"You think I was drunk last night?" Grime gave a roaring laughter. "Nah, I was just a lil tipsy. You've yet to see your Captain drunk." The toad nudged Sasha with his elbow and she repressed a smile. They went serious right after. "So… I guess you have the floor now."
Sasha really didn't want the floor. She felt like it was peak hour in her stomach. And now her hands were shaking; should she be attacked, she would have an easier time hurting herself with her sword than harming her opponent. She couldn't even think, how could she gave a speech?
Everything in her mind was noise and static, as she kept replaying the scene from that day.
When Marcy spoke, Sasha's blood froze up.
"I'm sorry."
All the noise, all the little individual sounds were snuffed out. The rage and bloodlust disappeared, leaving Sasha with a hole in her chest.
"Wh-what did you said?"
"I'm sorry for everything," Marcy repeated. She opened her eyes to give Sasha a tired look. "Getting us here. Lying. Everything. I shouldn't have-"
A powerful cough took over Marcy, cutting her speech. Sasha bent her over so she could spit blood on the floor.
"Don't think about that now. We gotta get you of here." Sasha surrounded the girl with her arms, getting her on her feet. "That's it, just stay with me, alright? Grime! We're out!"
Captain Grime was fighting with tooth and nail, yet it was barely enough to keep the King at bay. Andrias struck down with his sword; Grime lifted his war hammer in time to block the killing blow.
"You two leave! I'll hold him back!"
"Don't give me that shit now! We're all leaving. Come on Marbles."
Sasha wished she had more arm —or just more soldiers. Keeping Marcy up with one arm and handling her sword with the other was just plain impossible. Maybe if Sasha could keep Andrias at bay they might have a chance to escape the castle. Then they could get Marcy to safety and treat her properly. It was a lousy plan but it'll work. It had to.
However, as Sasha began her march, Marcy grew restless in her arms, making Sasha tumble and dropping both of them to the floor, not even a foot away from where they started.
"Get up!" Sasha shook the girl from her shoulders. Oh Frog, she was so pale. Sasha was faced with a new feeling: she didn't have the strength to boss her around. "Marcy, hun, please. We've got to keep moving."
Marcy laughter was ghostly. "You always rush to save me Sash," she said. "This is the last time tho."
"Don't say that."
"You have to leave me."
"No!" Big, cold tears rolled down Sasha's cheeks but she didn't care anymore. She'll get out of that castle. She'll get Marcy to safety and then she'll come back and slid Andrias' massive throat in half. Sasha was certain of her own success. But Marcy wasn't, and that worried Sasha.
Grime dropped to his knees by their side. A chunk of his armor had been torn out. He was holding his bruised arm, from where a deep red torrent was pouring. By the look of his face, there wasn't much fighting left in him. Another thing that worried Sasha.
"Sasha, we've got to go. Now." Grime gasped with no hint of emotion despite his state.
Sasha protested but she can't remember what she said —only that she choked it out. The situation was growing direr by the second. New Frobots were coming in by the dozen, climbing through the windows like metal roaches. Andrias was a mountain of a man; all of their attacks together haven't worn him down a bit. After all, even with her weird new superpowers Anne couldn't defeat him. What chance did Sasha have without any of those powers? All she had was a sword and an arm that won't stop trembling.
Andrias laughed as he towered over them. "I see you're still kicking around Marcy. Color me surprised. Not that there's much left in you." His voice was like ice and his gaze burnt Sasha when she met his eyes.
"What about you, Conqueror?" the king mocked Sasha. "What is going to be your next move?"
In an instant, Sasha was faced with the terrible truth. She didn't know. Despite her efforts, Marcy's life was fading away in her hands. Grime was in no condition to fight. Robot soldiers were closing on them and their newt master was ready for round two. But the worst thing was how much Sasha's hands were shaking.
Everything else she could've worked with but her hands were shaking.
Marcy saw it too and enveloped Sasha's hand with hers. They were ghostly cold.
"Go I'll only weight you down." Marcy stopped midsentence to cough up some more. "Besides, I'm not scared anymore."
It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Yet a part of Sasha, the part she usually leant into for knowing what to do, the rational yet self-serving part of herself couldn't help to agree with Marcy. The rest of Sasha thought that was bullshit. She should stay and perish with her friend! Her heart thundered in her chest at this splitting.
In the end, one part was heavier than the other.
Sasha brought Marcy to her chest. Has she always been so small, so brittle? No, there's no time to think about that. She held Marcy soft enough to not arm her and brought her mouth to the girl's ear, but when she tried to speak, Sasha went mute, words clogging in her chest and closing her throat, letting out only pathetic sobs.
Sasha pulled away to look at Marcy's eyes one last time. Even now, she didn't show despair or sadness. No anger or pain. She was just tired. Sasha helped by gently resting Marcy on the floor and closing her eyes. They never opened up again.
"That's enough of this sappiness. Robots, seize them!" Andrias shouted and the Frobots began to close on them.
Sasha didn't want to leave. But she if she didn't then all Marcy had done would've been for nothing. She helped Grime on his feet and they began to run, hurrying towards the nearest window. This was a terrible plan, but it'll have to do. A Frobot stood in their way, smiling coldly, its whole metal-self an impassable barricade. Obviously, he was underestimating Sasha's recklessness. The girl draw her sword and jumped forward, making use of Grime's added body mass to stab the Frobot out of the window.
Sasha was never one to be scared of heights; she used to show off by take jumps down of Anne's roof. This was a whole different thing. The fall was endless; the city getting closer on as the sharp wind cut her skin. Her sword was knee-deep in the Frobot's chest. The machine was silent, but its insides chirped and sparkled. Something inside the Frobot must've malfunction, because the rockets on its feet began to turn on and off. It was just what they needed, because it softened what otherwise would've been a harder landing.
Not that It was soft anyway. They crashed against a tower, the frobot working as a metal cushion, protecting them from the harm as it was smashed to smithereens.
Grime and Sasha rolled over the tower roof, with Grime got a hold of the ledge with his good hand, and Sasha holding onto Grime's legs. They were hanging over the abyss, their only cushion being the stone-hard street below. Since Grime was to hurt to get up, Sasha climbed the toad's body and helped him get over the roof.
Finally Sasha could take a grasp at the scene. Newtopia was in shambles. Everything was chaos, fire in every corner, deafening screaming everywhere. Andrias' fortress floated several feet on the air above them, casting a shapeless shadow over the whole city. From where she was standing, Sasha could see the giant silhouette of the newt.
And she thought —she wasn't sure of anything, her mind was still pretty fogged, but she could've sworn she saw him knelt down, picking something of the ground.
Grime squeezed her shoulder in reassurance. "We can't stop now. Let us hightail."
Sasha sheepishly agreed. He was right; they were running on borrowed time. Grime began to climb the tower down, with as much care as someone with only one good arm could. Sasha went after him, but not before looking at the castle one last time.
The giant shadow was gone.
And that was the answer.
"I forgive you," she said, lip quivering at the words she couldn't say before. "I forgive you for everything."
It felt too much and too little at the same and didn't ease the noise in her head. Grime gasped offended.
"That's it? You went mind-absent for 10 minutes and you come back with-"
Sasha gave him a look. Grime huffed like a toddler throwing a fit. "…fine. I suppose it was as good as anything. I mean it's not like I squeezed my head all night writing a touching speech and gave a Toad Praying to the Departed or anything." Grime mumbled, and then raised his hands in defeat. "Whatever. It's your eulogy. Bird? Got something to add?"
Joe Sparrow cawed loudly a few times. If there was a message there, it was lost in translation.
"Didn't think so." Grime rubbed his eyes, prompting Sasha to do the same. They were tired. "Alright, what now?"
"Now we put the coffin with the body on the ground. If we had one," Sasha added bitterly.
"Right. We went through that already."
Sasha bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn't done arguing, but she never got into a fight if her heart wasn't on it. Her legs were ready to let her fall and her hands haven't stopped shaking since she'd woken up. Her self-assault of yesterday against her hair was fresh on her mind. She couldn't recognized this scaredy-cat she'd become.
"You know, this reminds me," Grime began, nervous as a student in front of his whole class. "When a toad soldier goes MIA —that's Missing in Action for you."
"I know," said Sasha.
"We would gather his stuff and bury them instead," Grime went on. "Clothes, favorite booze, weapon. A symbolic burial, with everything they liked. Do you have something from Marcy?" he asked, knowing the answer too well.
Sasha pulled the green barrette out. It was Marcy's favorite thing, besides hoodies. She was never seen without one like this. Assuming it's the same one she had on the day they opened the box —and supposing she didn't had any spares ones on her pockets— then this was the longest Marcy went on without losing a hairclip. Funny… Sasha hasn't thought about it before. This clip managed to outlive Marcy herself.
Sasha couldn't think of a better representation of Marcy. Yet it was just a token, a replacement of the real thing Sasha couldn't save. At the same time, it was the only thing Sasha had that was hers. She couldn't part with it so easily!
Grime's voice came to her mumbled out. Something about not having to get rid of it, and how it was her choice, all of it in that disgusting compassionate voice Sasha had no need for. To her left Joe Sparrow was getting restless, cawing incessantly and adding to Sasha's headache.
She closed her fist around the clip and flipped her wrist as she opened it up. The clip felt unceremoniously on the cold dirt.
That should've done it for Sasha, but the itch just kept growing. On her skin, inside her chest. She lifted her shaky hands and they were red; everything was painted in blood. The cacophony inside her brain was deafening. She had to stop it. Now! And there was only one way.
Sasha went for her sword and lifted it to her face. Grime screamed her name.
The sword made a swift cut. Nobody spoke or dared to move. On the ground, Sasha saw the damage she'd done. Her blond ponytail, laying limp over her feet like a missing arm. It has been a clean cut.
Grime hands went to his chest as he tried to recover his breath. "By my Ancestors, girl! Are you trying to kill me? What was that for?"
Sasha was petrified, but reincorporated, cleaning the tears from her eyes. Better keep a semblance of dignity. "I did what you told me. You said we should put stuff the departed liked, right? Well, Marcy always liked my hair. She always went on how she wanted to give me a hot haircut, and I always shut her up." Sasha straightened up and lifted the sword up. "This is fair."
The sword moved with easy, guided by Sasha's trembling hands, as it slashed the rest of her hair. Each time the sword came close to her neck, Sasha stomach would flip around. The minutes ticked by between snaps and cuts, until Sasha's hair was too short to cut with a sword. Fourteen years had taken for it to grow, and Sasha had butchered it in fourteen minutes.
By the time she was done, Sasha was beaten, forehead wet with sweat. Grime, too, was damped.
"… well, that sure was something. Now, can you please drop that sword? It makes me itchy seeing you dangle that thing close to your neck."
"Chill out, Grimothy." Sasha soaked up the wetness with her cloak, staining it forever. "If I can shave my legs with this babe, sure I can give myself a haircut."
"You shave your legs with- We have razors for that!" Grime let his shoulders fall. "Never mind. Pretend I didn't mention it. Anything else you want to do? Something not sword-related?"
Sasha shrugged. "I'd like to put something from Anne." Sasha did the opposite reaction to Grime's, raising her shoulders stiff. "Like, I get she's just gone, not gone gone, but Marcy would've liked it. Be with both of us. I don't have anything that's Anne's, tho." Her hand went to her face. "Only this scar she gave me-"
Grime jumped to take the sword from Sasha's hands. "Think of something else."
Sasha shifted her weight from leg to leg, sunk in thought. There was the photo, of course. It was the only memory of home; her phone being mostly forgotten, and her clothes having been destroyed in training a while ago. But the photo was always there, and Sasha looked at it every day.
She pulled it out of her breastplate and smiled fondly at it. They looked so happy —Sasha and the Sharps. Sasha never had a real family, just people that would foster her for a while. But one day she met Anne and Marcy at a park, and she knew she was, finally, at home.
What a whole lot of bullshit, she reprimanded herself. Back then, Anne was a doormat and hating it. Sasha was a bitch who couldn't help voicing her opinions about the stupidest thing, and only Frog knows what was on Marcy's head. Now, Marcy was dead. Anne was back at home with her family —both human and amphibian. And Sasha? For all that mattered, she was gone; death the same day Marcy was murdered.
Who was left behind, Sasha didn't know. But it wasn't the girl on that photo. That's the reason Sasha had such an easy time dropping it into the grave. The photo of the three happy girls touched the soil, right next to Sasha's hair and Marcy's barrette.
"There, it's over. You can close it up." Sasha gave her back to the grave, decided to never see it again.
There you go.
We're itching closer to the end, fellas.