Bond of the Soul by Child of the Faeries
Always there was pain. The never-ending dull tore into Yamato's flesh, and he didn't make a sound as blood ran down his sweaty brow. Beside him Ken sat, his face serene. "A true soldier never cries out in pain," Ken said impassively, never daring to look at his friend. "He must be willing to give everything, even his life, to protect the greater good."
Yamato grimaced as blood flowed into his mouth, and fought off the urge to spit it on the ground. He would receive thirty lashing for such an action. "He must never think of himself, or of his comrades," Ken continued. This time he did look up, and caught Yamato's hate-filled eyes. "He must never lose control over himself."
A servant came and administered another blow to Yamato's head. He remained immovable, subjected to this from early childhood. All of his memories were obscured with hate and violence.
Numerous scars ran down his face and hands. Yamato's rebellious spirit had gotten him in a lot of trouble in the past, but no longer. He would now be a faithful soldier.
He had to be. If he didn't, they would kill him.
Ken stood up, his pure white clothing contrasting harshly against the dark cell. "I pray you will control your temper next time, Yamato, or prison with the rats will be heaven compared to what Massah will do to you." He bent down low, careful not to touch his bloody friend. "I fear for you, Yamato. You may have gone too far this time."
"All I did was steal a piece of bread," Yamato said brusquely, "It is a far more honorable thing to do than starve like you." He received another blow from the servant.
"Never speak to your comrade in such a way," the servant said darkly. "It is you that disobeyed Massah, not him."
Yamato looked at Ken, who lowered his head. "I leave you to your darkness. May Massah take pity on your soul and penitence be granted." His white boots clicked together sharply as he strode out of the filthy prison. The servant, satisfied that his work was done, kicked Yamato's jaw hard as he walked past, a smile on his face.
"You think you are so special, self-ruling Yamato. I will see that Massah makes you pay." He pulled the door shut tight, and darkness surrounded Yamato.
Sitting straight up, he didn't bother to wipe the blood off of him. When the time came, Massah would only make him bleed more, and it was pointless. The rats squeaked, thrilled that there was fresh blood in the dungeon. Blood excited them.
They ran forward, their teeth latching on to his feet and clothing. Dismayed, Yamato picked one up, clenching it his fist and tossed the rat to the other side of the cell. It squeaked and hurried back, burying it's razor sharp teeth in the flesh of his arm. Yamato didn't move. He was used to the pain by now.
How many times had he been thrown down here? Hundreds? He remembered as a child, screaming while the rats rushed in, his fear feeding their lust for blood. Massah had left him for hours down below, the rats chewing at his skin, making him wish for death. He was just a helpless child against a multitude of flesh-eating vermin.
Yamato was no longer a child. Such pitiful creatures could no longer frighten him.
For hours he sat in the dark, only the ravenous rats for company. He never lowered his proud head, never let the biting pain infiltrate into his soul. It was like an annoying gnat, easily ignored.
Finally the door swung open, and Yamato was momentarily blinded by the light. "Massah wishes to speak with you," Ken said dully, pulling Yamato to his feet. Ken led, servants bowing before the nobleman fitted out in only white clothing. Yamato had often wondered how Ken was able to keep his clothing so snowy-looking, considering the amount of violence that went on inside the temple.
They were in the Ashram of Mercy, a place of sanctuary for the weary soul, or so it was supposed to be. A child without a family, Yamato had been taken here at a young age, raised by the Massah's wisdom, to become a warrior. Few in the entire country were as strong as Yamato, or as brave. Ken was one of them.
With a flick of his wrist, Ken ordered the doors opened, and they entered Massah's Hall. The lights glowed eerily blue in here, and Yamato never could help feeling cold in the presence of the Massah. The hair on his arms stood on end, energy whizzing past his ears. Ken fell to one knee, and Yamato followed in suit.
"My child," Massah said softly, rising to his feet. "Why must we continue to play these games? I thought you were grown-up now."
"I am sorry, Massah," Yamato said sullenly, not looking up. He was careful to guard his voice, allowing no sign of anger to show, only repentance.
"Why, Yamato?" the Massah asked, rapping his fingers against his steel throne. "I have done everything I could for you."
"Your warriors are hungry, Massah. I was desperate."
"But in robbing that poor man of his bread, you thus starved his children. Is that fair to them?" the Massah asked, and Yamato held back an impatient growl.
"I did not know, Massah."
Massah did not looked convinced. The grave frown that he wore on his face had not ceased. Ken rose his head. "He has served his time in the dungeon, in penance."
"That is good." The Massah seated himself back in his throne. "But penance is not good enough this time." Yamato's spirit sunk, afraid of the punishment. "You must go to that man's house and work for him until your debt has been repaid. Ken will go with you, to ensure that you work a fair share. And you are to receive fifty lashings, now." He gestured with his ring infested hands, and a servant dressed in red stepped forward, a crop in hand. Her face was filled with excitement.
"Massah......he has already suffered," Ken interjected, rising to his feet. "Is it really fair-"
"Do not interfere," Massah said richly, and the servant began. Yamato rose to his feet, his hands balled into fists. Each lash was like another lick from a serpent, teasing him.
Sweat poured down the girl's face as she continued lashing him, frustrated. She had been trained to break the men, turn them to bloody pulp. He wouldn't back down.
"That is enough," Massah commanded twenty minutes later. "He is a warrior, not a common servant boy like you are accustomed to. He will not cry." Yamato's eyes remained indifferent as he gazed at the Massah, warm blood running down his back. "Be off, then. The sooner you go, the sooner you will return."
"We must go to the clinic first, and bandage the wounds," Ken said quickly. Yamato shook his head.
"I will bear my wounds with sorrow," he said softly, bowing before the Massah. "Thank you for showing me the correct way, Massah."
"You are welcome, my child," Massah said, resting his hand on Yamato's bloody hair. Yamato closed his eyes, hiding his hatred.
"Why did you not want to go to the clinic?" Ken asked as the two walked down the paved road. Yamato's voice was calm.
"Massah wouldn't have allowed it. I am a warrior. Warriors must go without." Ken bit his lip.
"Still, you could become infected or something."
Yamato sighed and pulled the remaining threads of his shirt over his strongly chiseled body. "My entire life has been filled with this misery. It's nothing new." He gazed sadly at his scarred body, marred to the point that even his mother wouldn't love him. Fresh blood fell from him and landed on the blacktopped road.
Running his hand through his long blond hair, his fingers felt the place where his skin at split, and the blood was flowing freely. Surprisingly, there was no pain. He shrugged, and put his hand to his side.
Ken's calm eyes looked troubled. "I have not been at the Ashram of Mercy for long, but it does not seemed to be a place of peace."
Yamato smirked. "Massah is a good man," he said reverently, his eyes hiding his true thoughts. "Why did he send you with me, anyway? Usually I get a haughty servant or selfish priest."
"Massah wishes for us to be bonded. He has important work for the two of us, once we can be trusted," Ken replied. "I think we will be away from here soon."
The two paused in front of a small shack. "Is this the house?" Ken asked, looking at it disapprovingly. "Why in the world would you steal from here, Yamato?" Yamato didn't reply as he slid his identification card into the slot. The gate opened, and they walked in.
"Can I help you?" a pleasant looking girl asked, wiping her mop of auburn hair back.
"Yes. I'm Yamato Ishida of the Ashram of Mercy. I stole some bread yesterday and have come to work in exchange for payment."
The girl's frown furrowed in fear and excitement. "And who is your friend?"
Ken stepped forward, kissing the girl's hand lightly. "I am Ken Ichijouji, also residing at the Ashram of Mercy. But I am of little importance to you."
Her eyes sparkled. "One minute," she said breathlessly as she dashed out the back door. A few seconds later she returned with a young boy and an older man, most likely her father.
"You are the man that stole my children's bread?" the craggy man asked, shaking his head slowly. "Tis a terrible thing to steal from children."
"I know that, sir, and I have come to make amends." The man eyed Yamato suspiciously.
"Fine. I have wood that needs cutting in the back. Jun, show him where it is," the man growled, sitting down. The girl giggled and motioned for them to follow.
"Sorry Father was so angry at you," she said to Yamato with a heart-felt smile. "He doesn't like the Ashram of Mercy."
"Why ever not?" Ken asked from where he stood, his cold eyes focused on Yamato as he swung the ax and the wood split neatly.
"The Massah wouldn't accept my brother into the Ashram. Said he was too stupid," Jun teased as her brother walked by. His face turned red.
"That wasn't very nice," Yamato commented as he stacked the wood neatly in a pile.
"He's Daisuke. No one is nice to Daisuke," Jun said disdainfully.
"Maybe you should learn a little respect," Yamato growled, and Ken sighed.
"Yamato, leave the girl alone. Finish your work so we can get home."
"I'm done," Yamato said, spitting on the ground. "Do I have any other work to do, waif?" The girl looked as if she was about to cry, and ran inside the house.
"Yamato," Ken said dangerously calm. Yamato shook his head and sat down. He ran his fingers through his hair.
"Where does she come off talking to her brother like that? He's a living person, just like you or her father." His penetrating look caught Ken off guard. "It's unfair of her to treat him like that."
"Honestly, Yamato. You know Daisuke's history in the town."
Yamato sighed. "I never hear any of the news. I'm usually locked up in the dungeon. Enlighten me."
"He's a klutz," Ken said solemnly. "Ruins every social event without fail. The Massah would have him banned from this town if he could."
"Sounds like this Daisuke kid and I have a lot in common," Yamato said harshly.
"Don't count on it. His mother was... not of entirely human blood. Catch my drift?"
Yamato pounded his fist into the ground. "So he's not perfect. Not everyone can be perfect like you. So what?"
"Yamato, you are an example of perfection. So am I. Soldiers must be perfect. This town is build on perfections. He is far from belonging here."
"I feel bad for him," Yamato said, his eyes smoldering. "I know what it feels like not to fit in."
Later than night, Yamato and Ken climbed into their beds. The electric light flickered, and finally went out. Yamato sat up in his bed and stared out the window, his fingers tracing the stars in the sky.
"What did you mean, Yamato?" Ken asked from the darkness. "Why did you say that you know what it feels like not to fit in?"
Yamato turned around and sighed. Laying back down in his bed, he closed his eyes. "I have lived at the Ashram of Mercy my entire life. Others, like you, come here during their lifetimes. They are filled with happiness and excitement. I feel only an endless toil and longing to leave this horrid place." Ken remained silent. " I remember, as a child, I had friends. They would arrive home from a weekend, their faces beaming as they told me stories about what they did with their little brothers and sisters. On their birthdays, present would arrive, filled with silver or some computer gadget. You have no idea what it feels like to have nothing arrive on your birthday, because no one loves you."
Yamato pulled the blankets around him tighter. "As the years went on, I felt a rift growing between me and the others. I grew cold and resentful. But while I isolated myself, my skills became greater. I could shoot and fight better than the others. My tolerance to pain was considerably larger than my friends." Images of the numerous beatings thrashed in Yamato's mind, and he quieted them. "In the end, whatever they do to me only makes me stronger. I've gone past the point of caring anymore."
"I'm sorry, Yamato," Ken's bleak voice called from his bed. "I didn't mean to bring back bad memories."
"I don't care," Yamato whispered. "Bad memories are the only memories I have." He rolled over and looked at the stars again. "But you know something, Ken?"
"What, Yamato?"
He pressed his fingers against the glass, feeling it's cold caress. "I believe that I have a family out there, somewhere. I just need to find them."
The next morning the sun didn't shine. Ken climbed out of bed, a scowl on his face. Glancing across the room, he saw Yamato sleeping, and compassion swelled in his heart. Never before had he seen a man with more scars and cut than Yamato. The first time he had laid eyes on the rebel, it was a look of disgust.
He pulled on a fresh pair of pants, his white clothing fitting him like a second skin. That was the custom of noblemen. Splashing water on his face, he laced his boots and head outside the room.
Walking down the beautiful hall of the upper levels, Ken could only marvel at the harsh difference contained in the Ashram of Mercy. Upstairs, in the library and sanctuary, pictures of peace and mercy were displayed. Priests in large robes walked up and down the aisles of repenting sinners, waving branches of palm. The electronics advisor in the back kept mournful, depressing music lingering in the rooms.
Ken took his seat in the sanctuary, lowering his head as was his custom. A priest rubbed a bit of some kind of chemical on Ken's forehead, uttering a blessing before waddling away.
Glancing around, hundreds of mourning, weeping people cried out to their gods, gentle priests listening to their confessions. These people put so much trust in their priests, men of virtue and light.
Most of the people would be horrified to see what Ken saw on this first day at the Ashram of Mercy. What Ken saw was not mercy and love, but brutality and cruelness.
Massah had welcomed him, telling him he would be invaluable. Leading Ken to his room, they passed several priests violently beating a man with golden hair. The man's eyes were enraged, but didn't move as the priests beat on him.
"Why are they doing that?" Ken had asked, his voice filled with horror. Massah had merely given him a bemused smile.
"Yamato has always been a bit of a rebel. We find it prudent to beat it out of him. Don't worry.... they wouldn't dare kill Yamato. He's the best warrior we have." His mouth curled in a sweet smile. "I'm sure you and Yamato will get along great."
Yamato was thrown to the floor at Ken's feet. Ken's face couldn't hide his confusion. "Yamato is to be your roommate," Massah said slowly. "I will watch you two with great interest."
That memory was still vivid in Ken's mind. He had never been subjected to such violence back at home, in Tomichi.
"Sir Ken..... why have you come to chapel today?" an old priest asked, his eyes surely blind. Ken blinked.
"I have come to pray for the soul of my lost brother," he said hesitantly. "I do not have a confession to make today, Father. " The priest grinned and walked away, waving his palm branch foolishly in the air.
This land was foreign to Ken. He had grown up far away, in the house of his older brother. Osamu was a rich trader, and they had lived in the lap of luxury all of Ken's life. Of his parents, he knew nothing; and they had not mattered because he had Osamu.
But Ken had arrived home from a date one night only to find Osamu's bloody, dead body. The police could find no one to charge the crime to, and no one of suspicion had entered their home. Mystified, Ken had left home, hoping to rid himself of the horrid memories that lingered like ghosts around him.
But the Ashram of Mercy had not help fill that void. True, Ken had been taught how to fight long ago by his brother, but training here was different.
Massah had taken a liking to Ken, and never let the servants and priests beat on him or cause him to bleed, like the others. Instead, they attacked Yamato more vigorously.
Yamato knew that he received Ken's share of pain, as well. That was one of the things that continued to confuse Ken about Yamato. He had been raised in ultimate cruelty and despair, and yet he thrived from it. His soul seemed to be fed by violence.
And underneath all of that desensitized flesh and hard exterior, Ken was learning that Yamato had a heart.
Ken had been starving, slowly, from the lack of food the hidden warriors were given. He was not used to such small amounts of food, and his stomach complained incessantly. Ken tried to ignore it, hiding the hunger away, but he couldn't hide it from Yamato.
He had almost passed out yesterday from lack of food. That was why Yamato had stolen the children's bread. He had given it to Ken so that Ken would regain his strength.
Perplexed, Ken bent to pray, but a servant girl approached him and tugged on his sleeve. "Massah wishes to speak to you and Yamato," she whispered, "if you are not busy."
"We will come, "Ken assured her, standing up.
"Yamato, get up," Ken said in clipped tones, shaking his friend. Yamato muttered something and opened his eyes. "Massah wants to talk to us."
"Us?" Yamato asked in surprise, sitting up. "As in both of us? Not just me?" His eyes sparkled with morbid humor. "Perhaps you will be whipped this time, too, nobleman."
"Put on your clothes," Ken said, a hint of anger in his voice. Yamato grinned, and pulled his only pair of pants, torn and dirty. Tossing his shirt, a collection of rags and odd bits of fabric, around his head, he put his arms through two of the holes and then poured water over his head. Ken's face couldn't hide his disgust. "Don't worry, pretty boy. I won't get any dirt on you," Yamato mocked, putting on his boots.
"Let's go to Massah, then," Ken muttered, leaving the room. Yamato wiped the silly grin off of his face and followed.
"I'm sorry if I made you angry," Yamato whispered as Ken strode through the halls. "I just thought..... maybe a joke would make everything seem... less frightening for you."
"I'm not frightened!" Ken hissed, drawing himself up to full height. In truth, he was terrified. Never before had the Massah ordered their presence.... When Ken saw the horrific things that had been done to Yamato, he almost shivered. He didn't know what he would do if the Massah turned against him....
The electronic doors beeped at their arrival. Sticking their identification cards into the slots, they waited until the doors unlocked and they were admitted inside the private chambers of the Massah.
Ken eyed the room uneasily. The walls were covered with electronic data, scrolling by faster than the eye could follow. It was devoid of everything else. Yamato stepped forward, much at home. Obviously he had been here often.
"Massah, we have arrived," he said loudly, his eyes trained on the floor. He threw an angry glare at Ken, who also lowered his eyes. A secret compartment opened, and the Massah appeared.
His eyes opened in delight. "Yamato, Ken, my children, so good to see you!" he said cheerfully. "Come in, we have important matters to discuss." He pressed against the screens, and a door appeared. The Massah walked through in, Yamato following. Ken, startled, hurried to get through before it closed.
They were now in a large room filled with exquisite red furniture. "Please be seated," the Massah said jovially, taking out a flask of red wine. "Something to drink?" he asked. Yamato shook his head, and Ken followed in his lead, unsure what to do. This all was so unexpected.
"How long have you been at the Ashram of Mercy, Ken?" Massah asked, his cold blue eyes peering into Ken's soul. Ken held back a shutter.
"Almost a year, Massah. I have not kept count."
"A year." The Massah stopped, lost in thought. "That is good. The priests and servants have nothing but praises to say about you, my child. As for your partner here, well....... Yamato, why can't you follow orders? It is very frustrating."
Yamato looked at the Massah, a slight smile on his face. "Sometimes in life you must rebel."
Massah sighed, annoyed. "I have done all I can do for you," he said, his voice hardly more than a hiss. "I cannot take it any longer. Yamato, you are the best soldier to come through the Ashram of Mercy since I rose to power. You showed such potential.... why waste it?"
"Perhaps, sir, with all of your best intentions, Yamato doesn't want to be a soldier," Ken said suddenly, and Yamato looked at him in a panic. It was the first sight of true emotion Ken had seen from Yamato in days.
"Not want to be a soldier? Yamato was born to be a soldier," Massah said with a lewd smile.
"It is the only life he knows, and perhaps he wishes to see what else there is in the world," Ken said deliberately. Massah sat back and scowled at the two of them.
"If you two boys weren't the brightest and the best, I would have you shot immediately, just to rid us of you." His cheerful face could not longer keep it's facade. But," his lips twisted into a smile, "I have made other arrangements."
"Other arrangements, sir?" Yamato said respectfully.
"Indeed. A war is brewing, gentlemen. Our side needs men like you." He paused, taking a sip of his wine. "You two will be bonded and then shipped to Aliadon."
"Aliadon? I do not know where that is," Yamato said, a frown on his face.
"Ken will know the way," Massah said, a self-indulgent smile on his face. "There you will train with different Massah. He will break your prideful spirit, Yamato, and cleanse you of the tainted memories, Ken. Then you will be faithful to us." The two man blinked, taking all of this in.
"You do not wish us to stay here?" Ken said, licking his lips. Massah scowled.
"I have had enough of this impenetrable rebel and spoiled nobleman. I wash my hands clean of the entire deal." He stood. "Now, to have you bonded." He pressed a button, and a servant entered, holding a small crystal box. Inside lay two rings, black with a bolt of silver lightening down the heart of it.
"Put these on," Massah instructed, placing the rings in front of them. "Once you put these on and say the oath, you will forever be bonded to the other. Never will you part from each other, until death claims the life of the other. If you try to remove the rings, it will evoke ancient magic and injure you profusely."
Yamato looked at the ring, and then glanced at Ken. A smile spread on his face as he picked up the ring and slid in unto the ring finger of his left hand. Warily Ken slid his on his right hand.
It felt weird. The ring seemed to be more than a ring, linking him forever with Yamato. An invisible thread was contained within the rings, holding them together, and somehow, Ken could feel the power surging through it.
"Now say the oath, and get it over with," the Massah said calmly. On the table, digital words appeared.
"My soul I give, a soul to gain. I pledge protection to my soul until death's song pulls me away," Yamato read quickly, flicking his blond hair over his shoulder. Ken mumbled behind him.
Suddenly the magic pulled tight around them. "What's going on?" Ken whispered weakly. He could almost hear Yamato's thoughts, running like a waterfall, muffling everything out.
"You have been bonded. His soul is now yours and your soul is his. You are joined," the Massah said impatiently.
"You mean he is linked telepathically to my mind?" Yamato said, his eyebrows arched. He sounded unhappy.
"Perhaps. The bond grows stronger as the two of you grow closer," Massah said thoughtfully. "I never knew a pair that could read each other's minds, but it's possible. If the two mind are strong enough." He sighed, settling back. A childish smile crossed his face.
"Good-bye, my faithful children. I pray you have a safe journey, and the gods bring you home soon," Massah said, kissing the tops of their heads. "Leave in the peace of the Creator, children."
Yamato and Ken stood, and left the room, magic sizzling around them.
Once they had left, the Massah collapsed. He had thought he would never get rid of those two trouble-making brats. Hopefully the Massah in Aliadon would be able to fix them.
His eyes were troubled as he thought about what Yamato had asked only minutes before. He had thought it in his best interest to bond the two of them together. That way they would keep each other in check, but their strong bond frightened him. Their bond should not be that strong, not in the beginning. They shouldn't have even been able to feel it.
He had made such careful plans to keep the two from becoming friends. He allowed Ken to remain a rich, spoiled prince, making Yamato take Ken's share of punishment as well. The two of the them had nothing in common. They should have hated each other. Why then did they have such a strong bond?
He sighed, resting his head on his ring-infested hands. His blue hair fell forward over his eyes, and he brushed it away. At least they were finally gone.
Always there was pain. The never-ending dull tore into Yamato's flesh, and he didn't make a sound as blood ran down his sweaty brow. Beside him Ken sat, his face serene. "A true soldier never cries out in pain," Ken said impassively, never daring to look at his friend. "He must be willing to give everything, even his life, to protect the greater good."
Yamato grimaced as blood flowed into his mouth, and fought off the urge to spit it on the ground. He would receive thirty lashing for such an action. "He must never think of himself, or of his comrades," Ken continued. This time he did look up, and caught Yamato's hate-filled eyes. "He must never lose control over himself."
A servant came and administered another blow to Yamato's head. He remained immovable, subjected to this from early childhood. All of his memories were obscured with hate and violence.
Numerous scars ran down his face and hands. Yamato's rebellious spirit had gotten him in a lot of trouble in the past, but no longer. He would now be a faithful soldier.
He had to be. If he didn't, they would kill him.
Ken stood up, his pure white clothing contrasting harshly against the dark cell. "I pray you will control your temper next time, Yamato, or prison with the rats will be heaven compared to what Massah will do to you." He bent down low, careful not to touch his bloody friend. "I fear for you, Yamato. You may have gone too far this time."
"All I did was steal a piece of bread," Yamato said brusquely, "It is a far more honorable thing to do than starve like you." He received another blow from the servant.
"Never speak to your comrade in such a way," the servant said darkly. "It is you that disobeyed Massah, not him."
Yamato looked at Ken, who lowered his head. "I leave you to your darkness. May Massah take pity on your soul and penitence be granted." His white boots clicked together sharply as he strode out of the filthy prison. The servant, satisfied that his work was done, kicked Yamato's jaw hard as he walked past, a smile on his face.
"You think you are so special, self-ruling Yamato. I will see that Massah makes you pay." He pulled the door shut tight, and darkness surrounded Yamato.
Sitting straight up, he didn't bother to wipe the blood off of him. When the time came, Massah would only make him bleed more, and it was pointless. The rats squeaked, thrilled that there was fresh blood in the dungeon. Blood excited them.
They ran forward, their teeth latching on to his feet and clothing. Dismayed, Yamato picked one up, clenching it his fist and tossed the rat to the other side of the cell. It squeaked and hurried back, burying it's razor sharp teeth in the flesh of his arm. Yamato didn't move. He was used to the pain by now.
How many times had he been thrown down here? Hundreds? He remembered as a child, screaming while the rats rushed in, his fear feeding their lust for blood. Massah had left him for hours down below, the rats chewing at his skin, making him wish for death. He was just a helpless child against a multitude of flesh-eating vermin.
Yamato was no longer a child. Such pitiful creatures could no longer frighten him.
For hours he sat in the dark, only the ravenous rats for company. He never lowered his proud head, never let the biting pain infiltrate into his soul. It was like an annoying gnat, easily ignored.
Finally the door swung open, and Yamato was momentarily blinded by the light. "Massah wishes to speak with you," Ken said dully, pulling Yamato to his feet. Ken led, servants bowing before the nobleman fitted out in only white clothing. Yamato had often wondered how Ken was able to keep his clothing so snowy-looking, considering the amount of violence that went on inside the temple.
They were in the Ashram of Mercy, a place of sanctuary for the weary soul, or so it was supposed to be. A child without a family, Yamato had been taken here at a young age, raised by the Massah's wisdom, to become a warrior. Few in the entire country were as strong as Yamato, or as brave. Ken was one of them.
With a flick of his wrist, Ken ordered the doors opened, and they entered Massah's Hall. The lights glowed eerily blue in here, and Yamato never could help feeling cold in the presence of the Massah. The hair on his arms stood on end, energy whizzing past his ears. Ken fell to one knee, and Yamato followed in suit.
"My child," Massah said softly, rising to his feet. "Why must we continue to play these games? I thought you were grown-up now."
"I am sorry, Massah," Yamato said sullenly, not looking up. He was careful to guard his voice, allowing no sign of anger to show, only repentance.
"Why, Yamato?" the Massah asked, rapping his fingers against his steel throne. "I have done everything I could for you."
"Your warriors are hungry, Massah. I was desperate."
"But in robbing that poor man of his bread, you thus starved his children. Is that fair to them?" the Massah asked, and Yamato held back an impatient growl.
"I did not know, Massah."
Massah did not looked convinced. The grave frown that he wore on his face had not ceased. Ken rose his head. "He has served his time in the dungeon, in penance."
"That is good." The Massah seated himself back in his throne. "But penance is not good enough this time." Yamato's spirit sunk, afraid of the punishment. "You must go to that man's house and work for him until your debt has been repaid. Ken will go with you, to ensure that you work a fair share. And you are to receive fifty lashings, now." He gestured with his ring infested hands, and a servant dressed in red stepped forward, a crop in hand. Her face was filled with excitement.
"Massah......he has already suffered," Ken interjected, rising to his feet. "Is it really fair-"
"Do not interfere," Massah said richly, and the servant began. Yamato rose to his feet, his hands balled into fists. Each lash was like another lick from a serpent, teasing him.
Sweat poured down the girl's face as she continued lashing him, frustrated. She had been trained to break the men, turn them to bloody pulp. He wouldn't back down.
"That is enough," Massah commanded twenty minutes later. "He is a warrior, not a common servant boy like you are accustomed to. He will not cry." Yamato's eyes remained indifferent as he gazed at the Massah, warm blood running down his back. "Be off, then. The sooner you go, the sooner you will return."
"We must go to the clinic first, and bandage the wounds," Ken said quickly. Yamato shook his head.
"I will bear my wounds with sorrow," he said softly, bowing before the Massah. "Thank you for showing me the correct way, Massah."
"You are welcome, my child," Massah said, resting his hand on Yamato's bloody hair. Yamato closed his eyes, hiding his hatred.
"Why did you not want to go to the clinic?" Ken asked as the two walked down the paved road. Yamato's voice was calm.
"Massah wouldn't have allowed it. I am a warrior. Warriors must go without." Ken bit his lip.
"Still, you could become infected or something."
Yamato sighed and pulled the remaining threads of his shirt over his strongly chiseled body. "My entire life has been filled with this misery. It's nothing new." He gazed sadly at his scarred body, marred to the point that even his mother wouldn't love him. Fresh blood fell from him and landed on the blacktopped road.
Running his hand through his long blond hair, his fingers felt the place where his skin at split, and the blood was flowing freely. Surprisingly, there was no pain. He shrugged, and put his hand to his side.
Ken's calm eyes looked troubled. "I have not been at the Ashram of Mercy for long, but it does not seemed to be a place of peace."
Yamato smirked. "Massah is a good man," he said reverently, his eyes hiding his true thoughts. "Why did he send you with me, anyway? Usually I get a haughty servant or selfish priest."
"Massah wishes for us to be bonded. He has important work for the two of us, once we can be trusted," Ken replied. "I think we will be away from here soon."
The two paused in front of a small shack. "Is this the house?" Ken asked, looking at it disapprovingly. "Why in the world would you steal from here, Yamato?" Yamato didn't reply as he slid his identification card into the slot. The gate opened, and they walked in.
"Can I help you?" a pleasant looking girl asked, wiping her mop of auburn hair back.
"Yes. I'm Yamato Ishida of the Ashram of Mercy. I stole some bread yesterday and have come to work in exchange for payment."
The girl's frown furrowed in fear and excitement. "And who is your friend?"
Ken stepped forward, kissing the girl's hand lightly. "I am Ken Ichijouji, also residing at the Ashram of Mercy. But I am of little importance to you."
Her eyes sparkled. "One minute," she said breathlessly as she dashed out the back door. A few seconds later she returned with a young boy and an older man, most likely her father.
"You are the man that stole my children's bread?" the craggy man asked, shaking his head slowly. "Tis a terrible thing to steal from children."
"I know that, sir, and I have come to make amends." The man eyed Yamato suspiciously.
"Fine. I have wood that needs cutting in the back. Jun, show him where it is," the man growled, sitting down. The girl giggled and motioned for them to follow.
"Sorry Father was so angry at you," she said to Yamato with a heart-felt smile. "He doesn't like the Ashram of Mercy."
"Why ever not?" Ken asked from where he stood, his cold eyes focused on Yamato as he swung the ax and the wood split neatly.
"The Massah wouldn't accept my brother into the Ashram. Said he was too stupid," Jun teased as her brother walked by. His face turned red.
"That wasn't very nice," Yamato commented as he stacked the wood neatly in a pile.
"He's Daisuke. No one is nice to Daisuke," Jun said disdainfully.
"Maybe you should learn a little respect," Yamato growled, and Ken sighed.
"Yamato, leave the girl alone. Finish your work so we can get home."
"I'm done," Yamato said, spitting on the ground. "Do I have any other work to do, waif?" The girl looked as if she was about to cry, and ran inside the house.
"Yamato," Ken said dangerously calm. Yamato shook his head and sat down. He ran his fingers through his hair.
"Where does she come off talking to her brother like that? He's a living person, just like you or her father." His penetrating look caught Ken off guard. "It's unfair of her to treat him like that."
"Honestly, Yamato. You know Daisuke's history in the town."
Yamato sighed. "I never hear any of the news. I'm usually locked up in the dungeon. Enlighten me."
"He's a klutz," Ken said solemnly. "Ruins every social event without fail. The Massah would have him banned from this town if he could."
"Sounds like this Daisuke kid and I have a lot in common," Yamato said harshly.
"Don't count on it. His mother was... not of entirely human blood. Catch my drift?"
Yamato pounded his fist into the ground. "So he's not perfect. Not everyone can be perfect like you. So what?"
"Yamato, you are an example of perfection. So am I. Soldiers must be perfect. This town is build on perfections. He is far from belonging here."
"I feel bad for him," Yamato said, his eyes smoldering. "I know what it feels like not to fit in."
Later than night, Yamato and Ken climbed into their beds. The electric light flickered, and finally went out. Yamato sat up in his bed and stared out the window, his fingers tracing the stars in the sky.
"What did you mean, Yamato?" Ken asked from the darkness. "Why did you say that you know what it feels like not to fit in?"
Yamato turned around and sighed. Laying back down in his bed, he closed his eyes. "I have lived at the Ashram of Mercy my entire life. Others, like you, come here during their lifetimes. They are filled with happiness and excitement. I feel only an endless toil and longing to leave this horrid place." Ken remained silent. " I remember, as a child, I had friends. They would arrive home from a weekend, their faces beaming as they told me stories about what they did with their little brothers and sisters. On their birthdays, present would arrive, filled with silver or some computer gadget. You have no idea what it feels like to have nothing arrive on your birthday, because no one loves you."
Yamato pulled the blankets around him tighter. "As the years went on, I felt a rift growing between me and the others. I grew cold and resentful. But while I isolated myself, my skills became greater. I could shoot and fight better than the others. My tolerance to pain was considerably larger than my friends." Images of the numerous beatings thrashed in Yamato's mind, and he quieted them. "In the end, whatever they do to me only makes me stronger. I've gone past the point of caring anymore."
"I'm sorry, Yamato," Ken's bleak voice called from his bed. "I didn't mean to bring back bad memories."
"I don't care," Yamato whispered. "Bad memories are the only memories I have." He rolled over and looked at the stars again. "But you know something, Ken?"
"What, Yamato?"
He pressed his fingers against the glass, feeling it's cold caress. "I believe that I have a family out there, somewhere. I just need to find them."
The next morning the sun didn't shine. Ken climbed out of bed, a scowl on his face. Glancing across the room, he saw Yamato sleeping, and compassion swelled in his heart. Never before had he seen a man with more scars and cut than Yamato. The first time he had laid eyes on the rebel, it was a look of disgust.
He pulled on a fresh pair of pants, his white clothing fitting him like a second skin. That was the custom of noblemen. Splashing water on his face, he laced his boots and head outside the room.
Walking down the beautiful hall of the upper levels, Ken could only marvel at the harsh difference contained in the Ashram of Mercy. Upstairs, in the library and sanctuary, pictures of peace and mercy were displayed. Priests in large robes walked up and down the aisles of repenting sinners, waving branches of palm. The electronics advisor in the back kept mournful, depressing music lingering in the rooms.
Ken took his seat in the sanctuary, lowering his head as was his custom. A priest rubbed a bit of some kind of chemical on Ken's forehead, uttering a blessing before waddling away.
Glancing around, hundreds of mourning, weeping people cried out to their gods, gentle priests listening to their confessions. These people put so much trust in their priests, men of virtue and light.
Most of the people would be horrified to see what Ken saw on this first day at the Ashram of Mercy. What Ken saw was not mercy and love, but brutality and cruelness.
Massah had welcomed him, telling him he would be invaluable. Leading Ken to his room, they passed several priests violently beating a man with golden hair. The man's eyes were enraged, but didn't move as the priests beat on him.
"Why are they doing that?" Ken had asked, his voice filled with horror. Massah had merely given him a bemused smile.
"Yamato has always been a bit of a rebel. We find it prudent to beat it out of him. Don't worry.... they wouldn't dare kill Yamato. He's the best warrior we have." His mouth curled in a sweet smile. "I'm sure you and Yamato will get along great."
Yamato was thrown to the floor at Ken's feet. Ken's face couldn't hide his confusion. "Yamato is to be your roommate," Massah said slowly. "I will watch you two with great interest."
That memory was still vivid in Ken's mind. He had never been subjected to such violence back at home, in Tomichi.
"Sir Ken..... why have you come to chapel today?" an old priest asked, his eyes surely blind. Ken blinked.
"I have come to pray for the soul of my lost brother," he said hesitantly. "I do not have a confession to make today, Father. " The priest grinned and walked away, waving his palm branch foolishly in the air.
This land was foreign to Ken. He had grown up far away, in the house of his older brother. Osamu was a rich trader, and they had lived in the lap of luxury all of Ken's life. Of his parents, he knew nothing; and they had not mattered because he had Osamu.
But Ken had arrived home from a date one night only to find Osamu's bloody, dead body. The police could find no one to charge the crime to, and no one of suspicion had entered their home. Mystified, Ken had left home, hoping to rid himself of the horrid memories that lingered like ghosts around him.
But the Ashram of Mercy had not help fill that void. True, Ken had been taught how to fight long ago by his brother, but training here was different.
Massah had taken a liking to Ken, and never let the servants and priests beat on him or cause him to bleed, like the others. Instead, they attacked Yamato more vigorously.
Yamato knew that he received Ken's share of pain, as well. That was one of the things that continued to confuse Ken about Yamato. He had been raised in ultimate cruelty and despair, and yet he thrived from it. His soul seemed to be fed by violence.
And underneath all of that desensitized flesh and hard exterior, Ken was learning that Yamato had a heart.
Ken had been starving, slowly, from the lack of food the hidden warriors were given. He was not used to such small amounts of food, and his stomach complained incessantly. Ken tried to ignore it, hiding the hunger away, but he couldn't hide it from Yamato.
He had almost passed out yesterday from lack of food. That was why Yamato had stolen the children's bread. He had given it to Ken so that Ken would regain his strength.
Perplexed, Ken bent to pray, but a servant girl approached him and tugged on his sleeve. "Massah wishes to speak to you and Yamato," she whispered, "if you are not busy."
"We will come, "Ken assured her, standing up.
"Yamato, get up," Ken said in clipped tones, shaking his friend. Yamato muttered something and opened his eyes. "Massah wants to talk to us."
"Us?" Yamato asked in surprise, sitting up. "As in both of us? Not just me?" His eyes sparkled with morbid humor. "Perhaps you will be whipped this time, too, nobleman."
"Put on your clothes," Ken said, a hint of anger in his voice. Yamato grinned, and pulled his only pair of pants, torn and dirty. Tossing his shirt, a collection of rags and odd bits of fabric, around his head, he put his arms through two of the holes and then poured water over his head. Ken's face couldn't hide his disgust. "Don't worry, pretty boy. I won't get any dirt on you," Yamato mocked, putting on his boots.
"Let's go to Massah, then," Ken muttered, leaving the room. Yamato wiped the silly grin off of his face and followed.
"I'm sorry if I made you angry," Yamato whispered as Ken strode through the halls. "I just thought..... maybe a joke would make everything seem... less frightening for you."
"I'm not frightened!" Ken hissed, drawing himself up to full height. In truth, he was terrified. Never before had the Massah ordered their presence.... When Ken saw the horrific things that had been done to Yamato, he almost shivered. He didn't know what he would do if the Massah turned against him....
The electronic doors beeped at their arrival. Sticking their identification cards into the slots, they waited until the doors unlocked and they were admitted inside the private chambers of the Massah.
Ken eyed the room uneasily. The walls were covered with electronic data, scrolling by faster than the eye could follow. It was devoid of everything else. Yamato stepped forward, much at home. Obviously he had been here often.
"Massah, we have arrived," he said loudly, his eyes trained on the floor. He threw an angry glare at Ken, who also lowered his eyes. A secret compartment opened, and the Massah appeared.
His eyes opened in delight. "Yamato, Ken, my children, so good to see you!" he said cheerfully. "Come in, we have important matters to discuss." He pressed against the screens, and a door appeared. The Massah walked through in, Yamato following. Ken, startled, hurried to get through before it closed.
They were now in a large room filled with exquisite red furniture. "Please be seated," the Massah said jovially, taking out a flask of red wine. "Something to drink?" he asked. Yamato shook his head, and Ken followed in his lead, unsure what to do. This all was so unexpected.
"How long have you been at the Ashram of Mercy, Ken?" Massah asked, his cold blue eyes peering into Ken's soul. Ken held back a shutter.
"Almost a year, Massah. I have not kept count."
"A year." The Massah stopped, lost in thought. "That is good. The priests and servants have nothing but praises to say about you, my child. As for your partner here, well....... Yamato, why can't you follow orders? It is very frustrating."
Yamato looked at the Massah, a slight smile on his face. "Sometimes in life you must rebel."
Massah sighed, annoyed. "I have done all I can do for you," he said, his voice hardly more than a hiss. "I cannot take it any longer. Yamato, you are the best soldier to come through the Ashram of Mercy since I rose to power. You showed such potential.... why waste it?"
"Perhaps, sir, with all of your best intentions, Yamato doesn't want to be a soldier," Ken said suddenly, and Yamato looked at him in a panic. It was the first sight of true emotion Ken had seen from Yamato in days.
"Not want to be a soldier? Yamato was born to be a soldier," Massah said with a lewd smile.
"It is the only life he knows, and perhaps he wishes to see what else there is in the world," Ken said deliberately. Massah sat back and scowled at the two of them.
"If you two boys weren't the brightest and the best, I would have you shot immediately, just to rid us of you." His cheerful face could not longer keep it's facade. But," his lips twisted into a smile, "I have made other arrangements."
"Other arrangements, sir?" Yamato said respectfully.
"Indeed. A war is brewing, gentlemen. Our side needs men like you." He paused, taking a sip of his wine. "You two will be bonded and then shipped to Aliadon."
"Aliadon? I do not know where that is," Yamato said, a frown on his face.
"Ken will know the way," Massah said, a self-indulgent smile on his face. "There you will train with different Massah. He will break your prideful spirit, Yamato, and cleanse you of the tainted memories, Ken. Then you will be faithful to us." The two man blinked, taking all of this in.
"You do not wish us to stay here?" Ken said, licking his lips. Massah scowled.
"I have had enough of this impenetrable rebel and spoiled nobleman. I wash my hands clean of the entire deal." He stood. "Now, to have you bonded." He pressed a button, and a servant entered, holding a small crystal box. Inside lay two rings, black with a bolt of silver lightening down the heart of it.
"Put these on," Massah instructed, placing the rings in front of them. "Once you put these on and say the oath, you will forever be bonded to the other. Never will you part from each other, until death claims the life of the other. If you try to remove the rings, it will evoke ancient magic and injure you profusely."
Yamato looked at the ring, and then glanced at Ken. A smile spread on his face as he picked up the ring and slid in unto the ring finger of his left hand. Warily Ken slid his on his right hand.
It felt weird. The ring seemed to be more than a ring, linking him forever with Yamato. An invisible thread was contained within the rings, holding them together, and somehow, Ken could feel the power surging through it.
"Now say the oath, and get it over with," the Massah said calmly. On the table, digital words appeared.
"My soul I give, a soul to gain. I pledge protection to my soul until death's song pulls me away," Yamato read quickly, flicking his blond hair over his shoulder. Ken mumbled behind him.
Suddenly the magic pulled tight around them. "What's going on?" Ken whispered weakly. He could almost hear Yamato's thoughts, running like a waterfall, muffling everything out.
"You have been bonded. His soul is now yours and your soul is his. You are joined," the Massah said impatiently.
"You mean he is linked telepathically to my mind?" Yamato said, his eyebrows arched. He sounded unhappy.
"Perhaps. The bond grows stronger as the two of you grow closer," Massah said thoughtfully. "I never knew a pair that could read each other's minds, but it's possible. If the two mind are strong enough." He sighed, settling back. A childish smile crossed his face.
"Good-bye, my faithful children. I pray you have a safe journey, and the gods bring you home soon," Massah said, kissing the tops of their heads. "Leave in the peace of the Creator, children."
Yamato and Ken stood, and left the room, magic sizzling around them.
Once they had left, the Massah collapsed. He had thought he would never get rid of those two trouble-making brats. Hopefully the Massah in Aliadon would be able to fix them.
His eyes were troubled as he thought about what Yamato had asked only minutes before. He had thought it in his best interest to bond the two of them together. That way they would keep each other in check, but their strong bond frightened him. Their bond should not be that strong, not in the beginning. They shouldn't have even been able to feel it.
He had made such careful plans to keep the two from becoming friends. He allowed Ken to remain a rich, spoiled prince, making Yamato take Ken's share of punishment as well. The two of the them had nothing in common. They should have hated each other. Why then did they have such a strong bond?
He sighed, resting his head on his ring-infested hands. His blue hair fell forward over his eyes, and he brushed it away. At least they were finally gone.