Chapter 9: Forever in Debt to Your Priceless Advice
Oh, this hurt. Quite badly. This was the kind of pain that made falling 10 stories onto cement feel like a paper cut. With a noise that was a cross between an angry growl and a whimper, Anubis tried to roll over. It would have been an easy feat, were it not for the foot-long icicle that was embedded into his body. It was lodged into his chest, leaving a neat round hole that dripped a pink-tinged fluid. It was as if someone had taken a giant apple corer to his body. A raw wound, 6 inches deep, bloody and oozing, capped by a blue-white sheet of ice where the butt of the icicle started, the rest of it pointing straight out his back. His new Armor was rent in places where Corruption's attack had struck, where Anubis' own power was unable to deflect the blows. It felt like he had been beaten with a sledgehammer in these areas. An ordinary Black Lightning Slash delivered by Cale would have been brushed off like an unwanted fly. This attack however had been augmented, made more powerful by Cale's overflowing emotions, assisted by the flying chunks of ice. He also suspected that the frost Cale had produced firsthand had done something to weaken his new Armor, but the pain was too great to worry about that now.
It was a miracle he'd managed to escape after the initial explosion. The crumbling ice would have crushed him like an insect. Only by keeping his wits about him had he managed to teleport away to this little clearing, miles and miles away from the cemetery, to a neat little hidey-hole in a forest. He had to be somewhere on the outskirts of Edo. For a moment his mind clouded. Not Edo, Tokyo. It had been Edo in his day, when he was still just a mortal man. It had been a flyspeck of a village, eternally reeking of fish. Centuries ago, when Kyoto was still the Emperor's City, when Daimyo still ruled territorial clans, and when only the Hollanders were allowed into port with a special pass - the Japan he knew, the Japan the other Warlords remembered. Now it was romanticized, events and dates that he had lived through mulled over by historians, put into print for dutiful little Japanese boys and girls to learn about, so that they could one day grow up and write sprawling epics about brave samurai and rogue ninja. Utter nonsense.
The dull ache in his chest brought him back to the present, to reality. He'd never quite been impaled before, and he was mildly surprised to find that it wasn't a sharp searing pain like he'd expected. Instead it felt achy, like a tremendous weight was being pressed against him, making it difficult to breathe. Now he was trapped on his side, his Armor digging into his flesh in a most obnoxious way, wondering what to do about the little matter of the icicle. With his free hand he wrenched his helmet from his head, the obscene demonic thing leering up at him from where it clattered to the ground. The faceplate grinned at him hollowly, as if knowing something he didn't, a sort of private joke between the Ogre on the helmet and its maker. He scowled at it for a moment, tossing his head slightly to move the hair from his eyes.
"Oh piss off, you. I've got other things to worry about." He wriggled once more, like a fish on the end of a spear, trying to find a more suitable angle for his own comfort. For a moment he debated removing his Armor, but the fear of loosing its power made him tremble. What if the rot returned? Or, better still, what if removing it made him loose all of his power? He'd be in a real pickle then, nothing but a stinking corpse in a rain-drenched woods. Anubis snorted suddenly, aware of the humor of it all. "Me. The great Ogre, Bringer of Cruelty. Afraid of being reduced to a beetle's buffet. I suppose every undead monster has to worry about maggots now and again. I wonder if they have something for that, like a flea collar for dogs. I should ask the master about it later." He laughed to himself, swept away by his statements, reducing him to a tittering schoolgirl. Actually there wasn't much giggling going on. He was laughing hard, roaring, his head thrown back, eyes squinted shut against the fat droplets of rain that plopped from the leafy ceiling. When his little moment of levity was done, he took a great heaving breath, returning to the throb in his chest. "Yes yes..." Anubis mused aloud. He'd grown rather fond of talking to himself out loud in recent days. It seemed to lessen the new burden he'd shouldered, made the darkness seem less ominous. Now as if he were talking to the problem lodged between his ribs and lungs, just below his heart, Anubis lifted his head, until his chin was mashed against the base of his neck, the corners of his mouth turning down as he tried to get a good view of it all. "What shall we do about you, hm? Can't very well wait for you to melt. And it's not as if I'm very dexterous in this getup of mine, I'm about as flexible as a 2x4 currently. I'm not very double-jointed. That was always Sekhmet's department. Bastard was as pliable as an eel - made judo matches a living hell. He could twist out of any hold you could think of." His eyebrows drew together. There he was, dwelling on the past again, when there were matters of the present to be dealt with. "I suppose I could just shove you back out the way you came. It seems to be the most logical solution, don't you think?" He took another deep breath, preparing himself for the deed. Maneuvering himself onto his stomach as best he could, until his nose was in the leaf litter, Anubis grit his teeth and wrenched himself over.
It was agony. His organs all protested this violent extrication of their new-but-decidedly-foreign resident, and the icicle wasn't happy about it either. It ripped through his body in reverse, shredding him with pain that made his back arch until he thought he'd snap his spine. He lay there for a long moment, pinned like a grotesque insect to a collector's board, a hand's breadth of ice jutting from his chest, the rest of it still buried in his body, the point sinking into the muddy soil. When his breath stopped heaving in his lungs, he was aware of the strange hoarseness in his throat, from a ragged scream he didn't remember uttering. He screwed up his face and his courage, looking down at the meager handhold that would allow him to pull the rest of the infernal thing free. There was a bright side to it, though. At least he wasn't laying on his side, with the prongs and points on his new Armor poking backwards into his body. Grateful for this small comfort, Anubis threw his hands up, gripping the icicle, now thoroughly slimed up with blood and bits of tissue. Like committing backwards seppuku, he jerked the icicle free with one tremendous heave. Already fed up with the pain it had endured, his body could take no more. His muscles went like water, his arms falling like lead weights to his sides, and he lay there like a dead thing.
The wonderful thing about a human brain, be it dead or undead, was that it still had the ability to function while the body was incapacitated. So while his physical form lay on the forest floor, pelted with rain, his mind still operated. The delirium he'd been experiencing while still conscious, feeding him bits and pieces of the past, opened fully, releasing a wave of tucked-away memories that Anubis had no choice but to succumb to. The first thing he saw clearly was his mother, before she'd been murdered by the same band of samurai that would slaughter his village and leave him as the only survivor. She was very much alive here, smiling cheerfully, preparing a meal while a small cinnamon-haired boy clung tightly to her leg after the neighbor's oxen had gotten too close for comfort, giving Anubis an up-close-and-personal experience with just how badly ox breath smelled. It'd sent him running for cover, the terror of that giant face and wet nose looming in his vision too much to bear.
'You're such a silly little boy, Red Sparrow. Ginta wasn't going to eat you. He's just an old ox.'
Red... Sparrow? Ah. His mother's pet name for him as a child. In three days she'd be dead, and he'd be tucked between a saddle and a samurai as another Daimyo came through on the heels of his rival. He'd take pity on silly little Red Sparrow, and bring the boy along as a playmate for his own son and daughter. By the time Red Sparrow was 16 he'd be in his last year of training, preparing for war against the same Daimyo who'd killed his mother. The old Daimyo who brought him up may have become a doddering old man, and may have been a compassionate father figure, but there was no mistaking his desire for power. Red Sparrow would grow up believing that with power came invincibility, and strength to control anything, even one's own destiny. He'd ride out to war, kill, sate his need for revenge, and continue on his search for power. He'd never be afraid again. Red Sparrow would die that day, and a newer, stronger man would rise. Little did he know that greater things were to happen that day. Talpa would sweep down and collect him, make him the head of his Demon Warlords, give him strength that he never would have been able to attain if he'd refused the offer. And for a short while, he did have that glorious power. He was the master of Cruelty.
He was a pawn.
Or at least, that was what the old man had said. That ancient monk had filled his head with thoughts of dissent and betrayal, or at least that's what he'd initially thought. The quiet whisperings of the Ancient were truths, opening his eyes to what Talpa really intended to do with them once the war with the Ronins was over. It was his old desire for strength that pushed him over the edge, to take that one last step and do the unthinkable - to become a traitor and renounce the power Talpa had bestowed upon him.
After Talpa's first resounding defeat, the Ancient one took him into ghostly tutelage, teaching him the way of the fallen Clan and the power within the staff he'd been given. It was never given to you, the power of the Ogre Armor, the voice whispered. It came from inside you, drew out your inner strengths. It is a physical manifestation of your fears of being weak. You were afraid, petrified, of the very thought of being powerless. That was why you clove to the old Daimyo. He had power, wisdom, strength. The things you needed to overcome your fears. At least, that was what you believed. What was the trait I unmasked for you the day we first met? Loyalty. You perhaps do not realize it, Anubis, but you are fiercely loyal, blindly so. You stayed with the Daimyo because he rescued you, took you in. Not because you needed him. Your loyalties to Talpa follow in the same vein. That was why I chose you, Anubis. For your faith, your loyalty. Once that seed, that tiny truth, was planted in your brain, that unwavering alliance to Talpa would be severed. I knew you would be the one I could entrust with my powers. Now, Anubis, prove to me how strong your loyalty is...
Blind loyalty. That was what got him into this predicament. The monk used him, used his own trait against him, knowing full well that Anubis wouldn't dare sway from his duties, no matter what would happen. What he mistook in his foolish pride as gentle advice were really commands, no different from the commands Talpa would issue. You belong to me, child. You will do my bidding, without hesitation, without doubt, without regret. And when I have no further need of you, your final act of loyalty to me is your death. Pass on the power you held for a time, give it to my true heir. You were never my chosen one, Anubis. Merely a tool to be used and discarded when your usefulness is spent.
From his soggy bed of moldy leaves, Anubis twisted, his teeth bared in a snarl of defiance. "You lied to me, old man! You're no better than Talpa! I make my own destiny, monk! I know the paths I take! I was foolish to think you were different! My loyalty is to myself!"
Like a ray of sunlight piercing the heavy black clouds, a new idea, a new truth, manifested in the back of Anubis' brain. That one sentence uttered so long ago struck a new chord within him. You perhaps do not realize it, Anubis, but you are fiercely loyal, blindly so. Talpa had used it against him, the Ancient had done so as well. Was his new master doing the same?
A hairline crack in Anubis' iron beliefs appeared, tiny and hardly noticeable. Yet like a crack in stone, no matter how small, with the right combination of rain and time, can rend the stone into tiny fragments. It was through this smallest of splits that another force entered, hoping to severe this bond of loyalty. The questions tumbling through Anubis's head, one after the other, nagging disbeliefs and dreaded wonderment, were all answered in one spiritual tone.
Yes. You are. You're being used.
Like a bucket of water being dumped on him, Anubis suddenly shot up at the waist, like someone who has just woken from a long and terrible dream. The voice that rang in his head was unmistakable. It was the Ancient. Like a child who hears a familiar voice in a new and scary place, Anubis' eyes filled with wonder. "...Ancient?"
Indeed, it is I, old friend. You'd thought I'd abandoned you?
"I couldn't help but think... after I freed Kayura from Bademon's control... that... that..."
I know what you thought, Anubis. You are wrong. Most certainly wrong. The misconceptions you developed about my intentions for you are untrue. I never used you like Talpa. I never forced you to end your life to save her. That was your own doing, your own final sacrifice, the moment in which you realized that the world did not revolve around you. You may have been the Ogre, the leader of Talpa's Warlords. You may have been my Chosen Pupil. But you realized then, while Bademon possessed Kayura, that you were still just a man. A man is always a small part in something greater, Anubis. A thread in a pattern, the leaf of a tree. In realizing that, you realized that it was your destiny, your part in the pattern, to save Kayura. Yet in doing so, you were no longer just a man. You became a hero, a pivotal turning point in that long war against evil. You used your power for the greater good.
This epiphany left Anubis dumbfounded. He was awake, however, his consciousness active, and that roiling hate spawned inside of him returned with full force. The voice on the other end was silent, as a newer, more malevolent presence flooded in, striking Anubis with such a force that he was knocked backwards. Another familiar feeling overtook him, only this was not that kindly warmth that accompanied the monk. This was the searing heat that he'd felt when being punished by Talpa, and it left him bucking wildly on the ground, his heels kicking up great hunks of earth, his hands curled into claws, his head tossed back and forth on his neck like a man struck with seizures.
"Did we enjoy that little speech from the monk, hm? Did he try to turn you against me?! More of his honeyed poison, his little ideas about destiny and truth? I rescue you from your torment and this his how you repay me?! Reverting back to an impressionable child, listening dutifully while he fills your head with more of his tales?! Remember this, Anubis. You are mine! I gave you life so that you could revenge yourself! I will not tolerate disobedience!" The voice that had spoken to him in the graveyard had been gentle, a snake sliding through the grass. This was booming, roaring like a dragon, making his blood boil and his body ache. Anubis wasn't given time to respond, to defend himself, the pain made him do only one thing - scream. Scream until he thought his throat would rupture. Abruptly it stopped, the sudden jarring lack of pain seeming to hurt, leaving him curled into a ball, heaving ragged sobs, his head clutched in his hands, as if trying to seal it off from that terrible howling voice. There had been more to it, more than the physical words he'd heard. It was as if a madness had been loosed inside his head, millions of tiny demons clawing at his brain, punishment for even listening to the Ancient.
Finally, when the sobs abated, and Anubis dare lift his head from the ground, he lay there, half sprawled on the ground, drawing shuddering breaths, trying to shake off the horrors the master had inflicted. He dared not reach out to see if the Ancient was still there, if he'd watched with invisible eyes what Anubis had just been subjected to. His master would lash out at him again, and if he felt that even once more... Moving, hoping that would help him forget, he sat up further. The hole in his chest had been mended, but he could still feel the soreness of it all, and didn't need to remove his Armor to see that there would be a scar. The rain pattered softly around him, helping to soothe him, washing the grime away from his rest in the dirt. He needed to stand, to see if his knees still shook as badly as the rest of him. He turned to his helmet, as it stared forlornly back at him. He was reaching for it when a mental connection struck him again. Anubis nearly cried out, thinking it was his master, back for another round of punishment. Heart thudding in his chest, he would have liked to scream in despair when he realized it was the Ancient. Only instead of using a link that his master could have detected, it was as if the Ancient spoke to him through the helmet. It didn't move a hair, but the voice that came from it was clear and soft.
You know what you really are, Anubis. ...that's why you couldn't bring yourself to kill Kayura.
(A/N: For those playing the home game, SOMETHING just happened. DundunDDDUUUNNN!!!! ::dramatic chord:: One quick note - the bits about Anubis' past were all made up. A bit of creative license on my part, if you will. And the chapter title is from a line from the Nirvana song 'Heart-Shaped Box'. Heard it on the radio this afternoon, and that lyric inspired me to write this chapter. I have a feeling this is gonna end soon, so stay tuned! Same Ronin Time, Same Ronin Channel!)