03—Dark Echo
For Taiasu, calling what he's just seen in the Echo a memory feels laughable.
After all, it literally just happened, and time must pass for something to slip into memory.
But there exists no word in his lexicon which can effectively describe the experience. A vision? A hallucination? Certainly, they could have accurately described it when it was happening. The former more than the latter, given the latter implies something untrue.
Try as he might to find the right word, combing through his mind avails him nothing but wasted time. Yet, though nothing can describe the experience itself, there is one word which comes to mind. One which most certainly conveys what he observed in the truest sense.
A nightmare.
One which drags its talons down his back, pulling him in as he recounts the events as if he were living them, and not just some unseen observer, condemned to witness and record the events in the annals of history.
Like each time before, the signs that the Echo was drawing him in, a piercing pain in his head, followed by blinding white, and then darkness, were clear.
The first moments after regaining his awareness are, as always, disorienting. Even after recovering from the initial sense of displacement, his new environs feel off. With so little light available, and his eyes taking their time to adjust to it, seeing what's happening proves difficult.
But it's not the case with his hearing.
From what he can tell, untold numbers swarm around him. Countless creatures his maladjusted eyes don't yet permit him to see. A writhing mass, sliding past and around each other in some sick, swimming dance through some scant yet viscous fluid.
Likely, a natural mucus or slime, by the sounds still reaching his ears. A sound causing his stomach to churn like it wishes to purge itself of the last thing he ate. Mixed in with that sliding and squelching, he now picks up on another sound. Hissing, combined with a thousand, thousand teeth, all clicking and chattering against each other.
And above it all, the shrill, desperate, pain-filled cry of what he makes out to be a young girl.
Finally, his eyes adjust to the dim light, and he immediately wishes both that they had not, and that he could gouge them from his head for what he sees. An eternal pit, filled with an endless horde of wretched, crawling worms. Given forever, he'd still never have been able to count them all. Gripped by horrified fascination, all he can do is gape, slack-jawed at the spectacle.
From what he can tell, two specimens seem wholly to comprise the mass.
The first seems little more than light-colored grubs, though larger than average, yet smaller than most adolescent snakes, and benign in appearance.
Particularly when compared to their counterparts, the dark colored worms, smaller than their light-colored compatriots, yet sporting mouths filled with razor-sharp, dagger-like teeth.
Just the sight of that sickening sea would have been overly sufficient, yet everything is made infinitely worse by what his eyes come to rest on next. Just barely, he can make out the source of the tormented screams, for her being sunk neck-deep into that writhing mass, in truly horrifying fashion.
The young girl, stripped to her skin from head to toe.
Seeing her, Taiasu can feel his eyes sink into his head as the disgusted curiosity he'd felt just moments earlier is flung far and away, yielding only to horror and loathing.
At first, he can't recognize her, for her brown hair and vacant, yet familiar, crystal-blue eyes. Eyes which he can only see briefly in the moments they snap open, as if belonging to someone hoping that this time, when they do, the nightmare will be over, and they'll be waking up safe and warm, alone in their bedroom, and not being subjected to something so cruel and inhumane that only a demon could be responsible for it.
Again stunned into petrified stillness, he can do little more than bear silent witness as the swarming mass wrings from her cry after heart-wrenching cry, until finally, briefly, he glimpses something telling, clinging to her hair.
A simple hair ribbon, glinting with just a hint of red, contrasting viscerally with the muted colors of the countless soulless creatures swirling around her form.
And in that instant, despite her being so much younger here, he realizes who she is.
Sakura…!
There, buried in this hell, suffers the first person he'd met when he arrived in this world. Though clearly, from the difference in her appearance, this nightmarish vision is of a time long past. Here, in this pit, bereft of attire, light, and hope, she releases howl after agonized howl against the void as these mindless monsters continue to have their way with her young flesh.
And as is always the case, all Taiasu can do is look on, impotently grinding his teeth against each other, and his fingers into his palms, watching in grief-stricken horror, sharing in her misery as they slide over and inside, through her every open orifice.
This… This is—!
Sickening. Grotesque. As he struggles in vain, reaching for such words which flee from his mind, Sakura again lets loose another pained wail which briefly overwhelms everything.
And twists violently the knife it drives through his heart.
Finally, unable to bear what he sees, Taiasu moves toward her through the mass. In vain though it might be, as his form here is little more than that of a specter. Part of him finds solace in this, that his presence is absent from his place, and only his mind or soul resides herein, since it frees him from having to actually touch the wretched, fiendish creatures.
But it's only a small part, and the rest of him rages against it for finding solace in that fact.
Because if he had been here… Been THERE, at the time the Echo is showing him, having to brush aside dispatched, dessicated worm husks, and wipe their ichor from his leather would have been a small price to pay for having actually been able to do something.
Realizing this twists the knife in deeper, and he grinds his teeth further against it.
Gods damn all of this! Why?! Why is it showing me this!?
Reaching her side, all he can do is curse and watch, and wince viscerally as the wretched writhing mass of worms rends from her another pitched yowl laden with misery. And like some sick cheer, the hissing, clicking sound rises along with her voice, as if they find delight in her suffering.
With no readily available alternative, all Taiasu can do is swear inwardly.
This is… so awful… Can I really do nothing…?
Of course it's true, and he knows it. Though limited, most of what he knows of the Echo and the visions it bestows upon its bearer, he learned from Minfillia. The former leader of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Yet now, impelled by witnessing more than his mind can bear, he recalls something he's forgotten.
No… Maybe there is something…? She said I can't change the past, but she also said I can communicate with those in these visions. I don't know if I've ever even tried, though, but—!
As this memory bubbles to the surface, it pops in the face of another of the young Sakura's shrill cries piercing into his head, ripping into his heart, and splintering in his mind.
I can't take this! I have to try… I have to do SOMETHING—!
Doubt and uncertainty well within him as he steels himself against the maladious odor which will assail him. Yet, gladly, it proves needless, as nothing of the sort transpires as he draws in a deep and meaningful breath, then lets part his lips.
For lacking the gifts granted by the Bard's Soul Crystal, what he sings is far less melodic than the previous night. But the words are still there, easily recalled. Despite there being no harp in his hands to accompany them, he can still recite the lyrics.
And so he does.
The song he'd shared with her the past evening, he again shares with her now.
Over and over.
For how long, he can't say. However many repetitions, he can't count. Nor does he try, as his full focus is wrapped in sinking his entire being into this one act, hoping against reason that it might accomplish something.
Anything.
Time flows at a glacial pace with each recitation. It could have been hours or days, he can't say with certainty. What he does know for certain is that he feels no fatigue, regardless of how much time passes. All he does feel is sick, disgusted and miserable at what he's forced to witness.
And each of those feelings mix, impelling him forward, to repeatedly recite those tender words.
As he's about to begin another refrain, he fears in vain, the young Sakura's mournful cries taper off, falling and fading into silence. She then leans her head, turning and blinking her blank gaze toward him.
What happens next leaves him stunned speechless.
"That's a—!" Before she can finish speaking, she winces viscerally as her body continues to recoil and protest. "… Pretty song…"
Her voice is so quiet he can't believe he can make it out over everything else. Especially the sound of his pulse hammering violently in his head, and the tinnitus ringing in his ears for how hard he's grinding his teeth.
With every physical response to what he's seeing, hearing and feeling, it's as if he's actually here in body, and not just in spirit.
But of course, that's impossible, and only briefly do these thoughts distract him before he returns his focus to the young girl staring up at him blankly, still sunk deep in the writing mass that exists like some swimming pool made to entertain sadists.
Seconds have passed since she spoke to him. Enough time for him to recover, at least in part, from his stunned surprise, and realize that her soft-spoken words have had the additional effect of letting his too-tense body finally relax.
But it's another few seconds before he can find his words.
"Y-You can hear me…? See me?"
Shaking his head, still clung to by his shock, Taiasu asks the disbelieving question. Still suffering her circumstances, Sakura winces before giving a single, solemn nod. Despite her eyes being open now, and remaining that way, Taiasu can see within them neither light nor desire to live.
She then asks something in her somber, quiet voice that tears through him completely.
"Can you… help me?"
The pitiful, heartfelt plea shatters every thought in his mind, leaving him reeling as he tries to chase them down. Bereft of words, he's unable to reply before the agonized groan of a door swinging open from the top of the stairs echoes through the room, mixing with the white noise that comes from the hissing, clicking, bottomless pit of worms.
Light that offers no comfort pours in briefly before being obstructed, casting a long shadow deep into the pit.
Slow, deliberate footsteps accompany the click of wood against stone. Despite being quieter than the other ambient noises vying for his focus, the sound of both still reaches his ears as someone descends into this hell.
At the foot of the stairs, the creatures spread, revealing an actual floor beneath them, as an old man with eyes sunken like dark pits walks forward, toward the young girl. Upon reaching her, he looks down and nods with satisfaction, as if an artist admiring his fine work.
"Hmm… When you stopped screaming, I feared you'd finally succumbed." His mouth twists up in a sadistic smile. "Most impressive. But I suppose that is sufficient for today."
Taiasu watches in horrified silence as the man, this creature far worse than the mindless horde which writhes on the ground and acts on pure instinct, reaches down and lifts the girl from the pit by her arm. He then turns to leave, dragging her behind him like a lifeless doll.
Desperately, she reaches her hand out toward Taiasu, and he reciprocates. In vain, as just before their fingers would touch, the scene around him shifts, swirls, and changes.
And again, like every other time, all he can do is watch helplessly.
When everything resettles, it's clear little has changed. Perhaps nothing, as he's still in that foul pit filled with hissing, clicking worms.
Taiasu's quick assessment reveals that Sakura's been returned there as well, in the same condition as before. Only this time, despite being subjected to the same cruel torture as before, she's silent as death. Despite doubtlessly being overwhelmed, she's able to discern his arrival, and she turns her vacant gaze to meet his own.
As their eyes meet, some barely perceivable glimmer of light returns to hers.
"Onii-chan… You came… back?"
It's clear it takes all of her strength to state this simple observation. Yet as weakly as those words are spoken, they fall with the striking force of a gigas bearing down with a maul. It's all he can do to bear them without gritting his teeth.
"Y-Yeah… Sorry. It's…"
But he's unable to keep steady for long. Trying to find the words to explain is taxing.
And speaking them is unbearable.
"It's hard to explain…" Unable to hold her gaze, Taiasu's eyes fall to the writhing mass carpeting the floor he now knows to be there. "I can't control when I appear… And…"
Only moments have passed since she'd asked him for his help, so the wound inflicted by the inquiry, and his inability to do so, is still fresh, and he winces painfully against it.
"I can't do much…" The admission comes spat at the ground through grinding teeth. "I can sit here… with you… Talk with you… But I can't—!"
Apoplectic, he swings his phantasmal hands impotently through the collection of callous creatures crawling about. The evidence, his hands passing through them effortlessly, and them remaining ignorant to his presence, is clear.
"I'm sorry! I can't do anything else! I can't help you! I would if I could, but…!"
His agonized confession comes choked through near sobs. As she watches the non-results of his failed flailing, Sakura turns her head away and stares back up at the ceiling, letting her eyes drift closed again.
"I see…" By her resigned tone, it's as if she'd expected nothing less. "But thank you… for being here…" Deeply, she draws in a pained breath, then turns back toward him again. "Can you sing… that song again…?"
Quietly, she asks again for him to do the one thing he can do, and he draws in a sharp gasp as his mind goes blank.
Briefly.
Then, despite being in what must be the culmination of every hell with this girl, he gives a single, resolute nod to go along with the soft smile showing on his face.
"Yeah. I can do that."
A smile powered by a single, blazing thought.
Gods, through all this, to even be able to ask that… She's so damned strong…
Somehow finding his calm, he draws in a deep, steady breath. His lips then part as his eyes slide closed, and the world surrounding them vanishes, hidden by their closed eyelids, washed away by the soft tones of the imperfectly sung song.
For the entire time he sings it, they aren't there, in that pit.
They aren't in hell.
As Taiasu finishes his third refrain, and prepares to enter a fourth, the familiar groan of a door creaking open breaks his concentration. Above them, two figures enter through the now-open doorway, casting long shadows over the open pit. One figure's footfalls he recognizes for being mixed with the click of wood against stone.
The other, he does not.
Pulled from the fragile bastion cobbled together by the sweet song, Taiasu looks up toward the recognized source of steps, burning his glare into the old man who strolls casually toward the stairs.
Him…
He then looks back toward Sakura, finding her also pulled from her brief place of peace, her blank eyes open and gazing vacantly into space.
How could anyone do something like this? Even in Garlemald, I doubt such a place exists. Even the Ascians wouldn't stoop to such things. Not even in their contemptible service to Zodiark.
The silence following in the old man's wake does not last long before he breaks it.
"For the first three days, she screamed like a banshee. But on the fourth day she stopped."
The other man, the one to whom the old man speaks, and whom Taiasu doesn't recognize, now gains his attention, just for his presence. A man far younger, with dark, unkempt hair dressed in a tracksuit, grinding his teeth against what he sees with his dark gray eyes, blazing with rage and disgust.
A man whose words remain sealed behind his horrified grimace. Heedless or unconcerned, the old man continues, speaking with the indifferent tone of a scientist commenting on the results of some experiment conducted on a lab rat.
"This morning, I threw her into the worm pit to see how long she'd last. It's been twelve hours, and she's still breathing."
He then says something which sinks hooks into Taiasu's focus, pulling it from the young man and back toward him again.
"The Tohsakas are very powerful."
On hearing those words, and the familiar name, his narrow-eyed glare, now aimed at the old man, widens with uncertain confusion.
Tohsaka…? That's the other girl's name, isn't it? Why is he talking about her? Unless…?
As he tries to puzzle this out, he lets his gaze return to Sakura, the subject of his concern.
He's talking about her, right? But I thought…? I mean, she said her last name was… something else, didn't—!?
"Sakura!"
Before Taiasu can reach a proper conclusion regarding the old man's cryptic words, the young man's voice, filled with deep apprehension, echoes in the dark, followed by the sound of his dark shoes clicking against the stairs. He only makes it halfway before the old man is again taunting him from behind.
"Well, what will you do now? A single broken girl, violated by worms from head to toe." If there is a shred of compassion to be found in the old man's bones, it remains there for not being present in his tone or words, both void of care or concern. "If you still wish to save her, I might consider it."
"Fine. I'll accept."
No time passes between the old man's goading and the young man's firm response. A response containing not one drop of hesitation, doubt, or fear. A decision filled with resolve, tempered instantly by the fires of his burning, hate-fueled rage toward the old man, spurred on by what he sees happening in the pit below.
Not for one moment does he avert his gaze. Even as the old man's cruel laugh at his answer comes from behind. Glaring into that pit, he sears the image into his mind, that he might draw on it to further strengthen his resolve, and remember why he made this decision.
Satisfied with his answer, the old man's lips curl in a twisted smile as he nods.
"Very well. But I shall continue her education until you show results."
On and on, the old man goes, but to Taiasu, it's all incoherent rambling, and he frowns his face up at him as he listens to him prattle on.
"I still expect victory to come in the war after this one. But should you somehow manage to retrieve the Grail this go-around, all the better. And of course, if that were to happen, I'll no longer need the girl. But just in case, her instruction will only continue for a year."
Finally finished, the old man turns toward the walkway leading to the door, leaving the young man on the stairs, soaking in his words as he glares down into the writhing pit. Before the old man makes it far, the young man demands confirmation from him.
"You won't go back on your word, right? Matou Zouken?"
"We'll see." The old man, this 'Matou Zouken', doesn't stop to reply, as if such concerns are beneath him. "See how you fare after a week in there. If you're still alive, and sane, I'll at least concede that you're serious."
With nothing left to say, the old man leaves, pulling the door groaning closed behind him, and the young man remains there, staring into hell, lacking the words needed to effectively convey his rage and disgust at the situation, and the old man responsible for it.
But whatever his concern, Taiasu doesn't note it, instead filtering in on another name heard spoken just a few seconds before.
Matou… That's it! That's what she introduced herself as! Matou Sakur—!
Remembering, he looks back down at Sakura, whose open, crystal-blue eyes continue vacantly fixed up at the ceiling, as if she'd since ceased being aware of his presence. On seeing her eyes, something clicks in his mind, like a well-oiled tumbler falling into place.
Eyes familiar to him, that he's sure he's seen someplace else, and recently. Eyes belonging to someone else.
Tohsaka… That other girl… Her eyes were the same…!
More tumblers fall into place until the lock barring entry to understanding clicks open and falls away, and the door it held fast swings open in his mind.
They're related, somehow… Of course! How did I not realize it before now! They're—!
But before his thought can come to completion, the hell surrounding him swirls and shifts, entering into another transition.
TL;DR(At the start? That's novel): Sorry it's late, but It's late because I got a job. Yay, me.
Sorry this chapter is late in dropping, but there are a few reasons, all but one orbiting 'I have head issues'.
Recently, I've experience a sort of positive upheaval in that I now have a job, so that impacts this two-fold in that one, I no longer have endless amounts of time to invest in this (which makes me really f_ing sad - Damn having to pay the bills :-/) and two-such upheavals impact my mental and emotional state, and make it hard for me to focus on things like this.
Yes, even ones as positive as 'becoming gainfully employed'.
So, enough of that, what are the other reasons?
Well, I thought I liked this chapter as it was, but after letting it marinade for a while, and then coming back and doing the cursory re-read, I discovered that no, in fact, I really kind of hated it. Not the content, the content was fine, but I hated the way it was written. Probably because my writing has improved since it was written.
So I at first tried revising it, but that didn't work, so I rewrote it.
I've also split the chapter in half (about), because looking at it again, there was just too damned much going on and it was tenuously connected at best, so it felt better to me to split it in half.
And that's why it's late, Officer.
