Their feet beat across the hard ground, as fast as they were capable of. Their arms swung to quicken their bodies, bodies leaned forward to quicken their feet, and breath taken in gulps to ease their lungs.
They did all of this as they fled into the darkness. Darkness stained red.
Red lights and alarms that blared from dark structures, things too smooth and too dark to be mountains or trees. Everything too cold to be what the samurai had shown them.
Nothing was what they were used to. Nothing was familiar. So, they continued to run.
Seven pairs of feet, bare and unprotected, slapping across the hard and uncared-for ground. The slipped through legs that didn't bother to stop, dodged gazes that lingered too long, and never stopped moving.
It was as they were taught, it was as their mother had spoken. Aku's world demanded submission from the weak. The strong took from them. And right now, they were weak. They never had the chance to be strong.
So, they continued to run.
Howling was behind them, screams and yells like the sounds of the night. The same sounds that the samurai heard when he pulled them closer. The same things that had attacked the store and destroyed the clothes.
The same monsters that were attacking the samurai. If the samurai, a foe not even the great Aku could best, was fighting them, they could not stand a chance.
"Faster!" Ashi yelled to her siblings, not belaying her own speed as she ran. She had to lead them, she had to show to go first. She wasn't weak, and she wouldn't let herself be beaten until she was strong.
Her sisters obeyed her, following the one their mother demanded the most of. If anyone would know best what to do, it would be her. Adi understood that.
She understood that Ashi was the strongest fighter, the one their mother and her sisters took the longest to beat, and spent the longest beating. She knew because she was the first to trust the Samurai, and the first to embrace him as well.
It didn't matter the sirens that blared through the air, the sounds that tore at their ears harsher than any sound in the mountain or forest. It didn't matter because the howling and barking was ever present. Ever present and ever closer.
Avi pushed her hands to her ears, pushing on them until they were flush with her skull. The ends of the ribbon the nice man had given her beat against her skin as they ran, whipping like the cloths in the mountain air.
But she could still hear the barking. It was getting closer, no matter how many turns they took or crowds they ran through. The barking was getting closer.
"In here!" Ashi yelled again, pointing towards an alley. They didn't hesitate to follow. Six bodies ran into the alley, one after the other, hiding in the dark and narrow corridor. Ashi soon made seven.
There were no red lights to brighten the dark walls, nothing to show the young ones what existed in the ominous passage. It was a long dark hall with an entrance, but without an end.
"Hide!" Ashi yelled once more, running into the dark. Her siblings followed a moment, the barking getting louder.
They grabbed at spare chunks of metal, at thrown garbage and wasted material. They buried themselves in them, hid in them, making themselves small as possible.
It was as they acted in the early mornings within the mountain, doing what they could to hide from their mother and her sisters. A fruitless act, a waste act, but one that gave them time.
Seven bodies hid as they had trained themselves to do, sitting and waiting beneath trash, dark metal, and darker shadows.
Red lines made from red light highlighted the darkened path, but they showed no exit for the children, no escape from the coming trouble. The tearing, the barking, the threatening violence.
They were in the mountain again, only now their mother was not there to teach. Neither was there the Samurai to save. It was only them, the seven sisters who were weak. They were the weak training to be strong.
It was the training that allowed them to force away the sirens and horns, to remove the distractions that didn't matter. The only things that mattered were the strong, and the strong chased the weak. So, they focused on the sounds of the approaching strong.
Buried in trash, huddled beneath metal and steel, they hear the barking, the clawing, the chasing beasts, the strong.
Ahi nestled herself closer to her sister, gripping her arm as the sounds became louder. Ami looked around in the darkness, for any tool she could use or make to help. Adi could not think of an escape in the dark alley, the same way she could not think of an escape from their mother in the mountain.
They needed the Samurai, but the Samurai was not here.
BANG!
The young one did not jump at the sudden noise, but they did give it their full attention. It would be impossible not to.
Not when it flooded the dark alley with a bright light.
"Hurry! In here!" They heard the voice before the saw the figure. A figure that was haloed by the light around her.
A tall woman with an unseen face, garbed in black, and looking for them. Just like their mother in the mountain.
Did she also have eyes of red, was she searching for them like the beasts? Then she had found them. Then the children were caught in dark alley, stuck to decide between the coming beasts and the woman garbed and seen like their mother.
"Please! Hurry! They'll be here soon!" Her hand beckoned them now, waving as she stood in the doorway. The children looked to the woman, none among them wanting to run to their mother's arms. Light radiated around her, against her darkness. "Quickly!" Her hand grabbed and pulled at the air once more.
She looked so much like their mother, but she invited them out of the darkness, the darkness that the beasts were soon to enter. They could stay in the darkness or enter the light.
Pushing off a sheet of metal, Ashi went first, as she always did around her siblings. She ran past the tall woman's legs, into the building with dark walls but a bright interior. When the strongest among them acted, they had to follow.
The six other little ones pushed away their covers, bags of trash and scraps of metal, and ran towards the beckoning woman. One by one they made it inside, into the building and out of the darkness.
And as soon as they had entered, the door was sealed once more, returning the grim alleyway to the darkness.
No sooner did that return then did the wolves scramble into it. Their claws beat at the dark metal and racked against the stone beneath them. But as they entered the dark alleyway, they stopped, turning their nose up and sniffing the air, growls of hunger rumbling from their throat.
"They were here," one of them spoke, head twisting against the leather collar of his jacket, sharp eyes peering into the empty darkness. "But now they're not."
"Not here? Then where'd they go?" Another wolf demanded, stepping forward and clawing at the dark steel of the buildings. "They run past us? Go up the walls? The hell!?"
"No… but maybe they're hiding," the dark wolf spoke again, covered in an equally dark shadow. "Their scent is spread out, buried under the trash."
"Then dig 'em up! We don't got much time till that Samurai comes back!" A third beast spoke, taller than the others and with arms that stretched the width of the alley.
His claw gripped the side of a dumpster twisting the metal and lifting the steel container into the air. With a growl of annoyance, he thrashed it against the walls of the nearby building, howling as it rang at the impact.
Trash, and only trash, fell out.
"Dammit!" He yelled again, stepping back with the dumpster still in hand. Feral eyes considered the dark alley, leaning back as he did so. Then with a shout of annoyance, he threw his arm forward.
The dumpster, large as himself and made of steel, flew into the darkness.
BAM! BAM!
"Well? What are ya'll waitin' for!?" He demanded as he turned around to look at the remainder of his pack, of those the Samurai had not decimated with ease. "You wanna help me look or wait for Samurai ta kill ya?!"
It was hardly a question that needed answering.
Inside, the little ones were safe.
Out of breath from their sprint, senses flared from the city, and nerves on end from the beasts, they huddled together in the brighter light of the building they had fled into. The seven little ones, garbed in rags, staring around the place they had fled into.
And staring at the woman who had helped them.
"Please, do not worry," said woman spoke, towering over them still. Most of the things in Aku's world did. "I'm not here to hurt you, or scare you."
The woman's hands were held up and open, showing pale bare palms. They were different than the dark hands their mother hand, the sharp gloves she often wore. But even more of the woman was revealed.
Her face was visible, not under the white mask their mother and her sisters wore. It did not have an uncaring look of indifference, it did not invite pain for Aku's pleasure.
The woman had a gentle smile, blue eyes that looked over them with concern, with the same look the Samurai had before. Even with a dark hood over her head, all seven of the little girls could see it.
"It is extremely fortunate you chose this alley to hide in," the woman continued, blue eyes continuing to look over the little ones. They held their tongues and studied her still. "Otherwise I may have been unable to help you escape."
She may not be weak, but it was hard to see her as strong.
Her arms were too thin, her robes were too loose, her face too relaxed. She was not strong like the Samurai, like their mother, or like the beasts outside. But she still had saved them. Maybe.
"I know you are all scared, and I understand," the woman continued to speak. "This city isn't… kind to children like you. But you will be safer in here than out there." The little ones looked about, seeing the here to be very small, even in comparison to the inside of the red mountain.
"Please, follow me," the woman mentioned again, her smile kind. "It is not so safe so near the door."
The girls' eyes looked towards said door, indistinguishable from the rest of the wall. Had they not entered through it, it would have been easy to miss.
But just past the door, they could still hear the raging of the wolves, the barks of the beasts. They were near, and they were searching, so distance was best to keep.
"I can show you the rest of this place," the woman spoke again as she stood, her dark outfit rising with her. "Perhaps I can hear from you as well." And so, she began to walk.
Small exchanges were shared between the sisters, looking to Ashi for what action to take. She knew best, as she was the strongest.
So, they followed the strongest as she followed the woman.
The building they were in was unlike the mountain, the woods, or the city of darkness. It was inside like the mountain, but had no feeling containment. It was bright like the woods, but without the invasion of sense. It was constructed like the city, but lacking the dark rule of Aku.
The walls were bright and lined with photos, of things the girls did not understand. There were people they did not recognize, things that made no sense, and places they had never seen. All surrounded by crosses of wood and steel.
The pictures hung from the walls and stood on short tables. Even as the little ones were led down the hall by the kind darkly dressed woman, pictures adorned all surfaces they could see. Framed, cared for, and so alien to the little ones.
"In case you are not aware," the woman began to speak again. "This is an orphanage for other children like you." The words seemed odd to the girls. "Many have been lost to the shadows in this city, leaving behind little ones such as yourself. Here… we try and save them as best we can."
Why would the strong want to burden themselves with the weak? It was not something Ashi could understand.
"Here, let me show you," the woman stopped by a door way, placing her hand on the knob. Already the girls could hear movement inside.
They steeled themselves, preparing to run or charge as was necessary. In the fires of the mountain, the opening of doors was the sign to begin. When these doors opened, they'd have to attack, or run, or merely survive.
But when the woman opened the doors, they didn't know what to do.
It was the first time they had seen other children.
Children that were running around a colorful room, holding things that could not be weapons. Blocks of odd shapes, books with thick pages, strands of rope, cardboard pieces. None of them were tools they had been taught to handle. Yet, the other children were laughing as they held them.
Laughing as they ran around in a room that was bright as the woods, but more colorful then the setting sun. They were laughing, playing, and enjoying themselves.
And the Daughters could only stare and wonder why.
"This is the play area for the younger children, like you," the woman spoke again. They girls looked to see her kneeling behind them, the same kind smile under the same blue eyes. "Much like you we found them lost in this cruel place."
The city was dark and mean, filled with the strong that didn't care for the weak. It was why they ran and the strong chased. Only the Samurai cared.
"They were dressed like you as well, putting together what they had, and only barely being enough." Her hand lightly touched Avi's ragged dress, making the girl shy away. The darkly dressed woman did not lose her smile. "But you also have found things to hold onto, much like the children here." And now her hand played with the bow in the same girl's hair.
Adi listened, trying to remember everything she was told. This place was not like the mountain or the woods or the city. But what was it then? It had to have a name. Everything had a name.
"You can stay here, if you'd like. I have to prepare dinner for everyone, and I would be thrilled to have you join us." Ahi recalled dinner. It was what the Samurai had fed them in the woods. Cooked fish, prepared squirrel, food that was tasty and good to eat. This woman was offering it to them.
But that wasn't enough for Ashi. They knew the Samurai, because he had killed their mother, killed her after she had tortured them. He fed them, saved them, and was protecting them. This woman had saved them, but that was all.
"You may call me Sister Hannah, or just Hannah." The woman smiled with her words, smiling down at the sisters. They did not know if it was proper to smile in return. She was not their mother or the Samurai. "Please, feel free to make yourselves at home, and I'll be back shortly."
The woman stood and turned, shutting the door behind her. Avi felt her muscles freeze at the sight, closing doors that meant the return to darkness, to silence and solitude. But that didn't happen.
Though the doors shut, nothing else happened. The other children continued to laugh and play, the room had not grown dark, and the little ones were not separated.
They were still together… in a place that was so alien to them.
They looked about themselves, the seven raggedly dressed siblings each looking at one another as they had done in the mountain, when the cruel eyes of their mother were not upon them. But now there were no eyes, not that they could see.
Just colors, children, and toys to play with.
"… What should we do?" Avi asked. Her hand was to her ribbon, twisting it in between her fingers. "Should we… stay?"
"Maybe," Ashi returned, eyes still looking around the room. There was lots of yelling, but no pain. Where they enjoying being weak? "But… we cannot escape."
"Why not?" Aki asked, the girl with wild and unkempt hair. The one who followed orders last, who ran away first. "We can, can't we?"
"The beasts are still outside," Adi answered. "And they're strong. We're weak, too weak." And it was the truth. They were weak, and the beasts were strong.
In here they were safe. Safe and trapped. Like in the mountains.
It was more colorful than the mountain, the woman was kinder than their mother, and the children screamed for joy, not pain. It was like the mountain, but it wasn't like the mountain.
"We should wait," Ashi said again, looking around the room. "The Samurai will come."
Waiting is what they would do. But as their mother had taught them, never wait together. That was a weakness. Pairs or alone, but never a group.
So, the little ones split up within the colorful room.
One of the little ones liked to play with things. It was a thing she wanted, but never could have.
She was much like her sisters, but weaker in body compared to them. That made her weak, and the weak were not worth saving. But she still wanted to play with things.
She wanted to toy with them, experiment with them, but most importantly, combine them.
In the mountain, she would tie the little cloth they had around the hay, to make a better bed to lay on. Her mother had burned it in front of her.
After that, she grafted clay she had stolen over stone, making a bed. Her mother had thrown it had her.
Then she had attached the chain her aunt had used to a sickle. Her mother had given it to Ashi, and told her to be stronger with simpler things.
But here was a chance for her to play with these things without her mother's hand. She only had to be cautious of what she did with them, or else the woman, Sister Hannah, might take them away.
She could play work with the blocks of wood, that were too big for one hand to carry, and the string from another broken toy. Something big and stiff and something thin and light. There was something that could be made from that.
She only had to start by tying the string. Something that her mother had taught her and her sisters when it came to tools. Tying something meant it wouldn't slip. And if it didn't slip, it could be held without hands.
The other children weren't playing with them, so she could use them. And she could make something out of them. She could make something better.
All she had to do was be careful about being seen.
"You are very clever," the sister spoke to the little one. And she was already seen.
She looked up in turn, taking her attention away from the blocks and strings she conjoined together. "You have a talent for building things. That is a wonderful gift to have."
The poorly dressed girl didn't know what to say. There were no words she could remember to say.
"Please, tell me, what are you trying to make?" Sister Hannah asked as she pointed towards the blocks. The girl looked at them, before looking to her sisters, all spread out about the room.
They were all busy with other tasks, activities that didn't involve her. Exercises they had been taught in the mountain, or instructed by the Samurai in the woods. They were learning.
"It's okay," the sister spoke again. She looked back up at the taller woman, so much kinder than their mother. "Making something new is difficult to do. Anything new you make is something to be admired. So, can you please tell me what you made?"
Her mouth moved, trying to understand if the Sister Hannah was tricking her. Her mother had before, asked what she was making before breaking what was made. Was the sister going to do the same? Her hands nervously petted her smooth hair, feeling them curve to the points that extended on either side of her head.
"I-It's…" her voice weakly spoke, dry and parched. "It's a… trip-wire."
The sister blinked at her, blue eyes staring at her.
"Oh?" Hannah replied. "Then that is extremely creative of you." The child did not know what to do.
Never was she thanked or complimented for building anything. She was only ever asked to train or destroy.
"Do you think you'll need it soon?" The child didn't know how to respond. Did she mean against her? Was she looking for threats? Would she hurt her?
"Maybe…" she spoke. She scrunched up her face. She knew a slap was coming.
"Well I hope you don't have to use it on me. It looks like it could hurt." The child opened her eyes.
The woman was looking at the trip-wire, smiling at it. Her hands were playing with the string, taut between the two blocks. She didn't know what to do.
"How would you make it better?" How? The young girl had only ever been asked why, before punishment.
"… I… I would… make the blocks heavier?" It seemed right, at least. It was harder to move heavier things. So, if the blocks were heavy, the wire would be hard to move. And they'd trip.
Sister Hannah smile back at her.
"That's good," she responded, with the same smile under her blue eyes. That would make it better for heavier people." The girl found herself smiling, too.
"A-And I would the string thinner, so… it'd be harder to see?" And the sister kept smiling at her.
"Yes! That's a great idea, too!" She clapped her hands as she spoke, never once losing her smile.
The young child felt her own grow. She felt amazing.
"So, I must know," the sister began again. "What is the name of this amazing little inventor?" She asked with a palm raised towards the girl. She trusted those blue eyes, and the kind words.
"Ami," she responded. "My name is Ami."
"Ami," the woman repeated. "That's a beautiful name to go with a beautiful mind." The woman never lost her kind smile. "Would you show me what else you can make?"
Ami never wanted to hear anything else more.
Adi didn't know what to do. She what she wanted, but not what to do to get it.
She wanted to learn. About the forests, about the city, about this place. But not about the mountains. She knew enough about the mountains.
She wanted to learn ever since their mother had taught them to read. Between the lessons and beatings, they were taught to read. Because they had to read.
Read the signs of men like the signs of nature to hunt the Samurai. The Samurai who had saved them.
But reading showed her so much, and the more she learned, the more she wanted to learn. And the Samurai answered her questions. About the forest, about the city, but never about this place. He hadn't been to this place.
And the books in this place didn't teach, not what she wanted.
They were stories that she hadn't read before, but about things she didn't care about. Stories didn't teach things. They were just stories.
They didn't tell her why the trees were so large, or why the city was so dark, or why this place was so bright. Talked about a boy finding his dog. Two things Adi did not care about.
Ashi and Aki were together, the strongest with the weakest. They were all weak, but Aki rarely obeyed, Ashi always did.
Ami was with the nice woman that had helped them, talking about things that didn't matter. Ami had never smiled that before. That did matter.
And the others were around the colorful room, doing things they hadn't done before, not freely. Adi didn't care. She wanted to learn.
"Hello." Adi looked up at the voice.
It wasn't a girl she recognized. It wasn't one of her sisters or the sister. It just another girl, like her, but taller. Probably older. Red hair and freckles, and waving back and forth as she stood there.
"What's your name?" the girl asked. Adi looked at her. It was an easy question.
"… Adi," she replied after a time. She didn't want to talk.
"Were did you come from?" The girl asked again, this time on her toes. A little taller, but not much taller. Taller than her, but not by much.
"… Mountains," Adi replied.
"Is that far?" The girl asked again. She was moving closer, sliding against the ground. Adi hunched her head into her chest.
"… Yes." It felt far, because it was far away. It was the farthest they had ever been from it. There couldn't' be much farther to go.
"I wish I could go there," the girl added. "I've never left the city. There isn't much here for us." Adi shook her head.
"The mountains are not nice," she spoke again. "They are cold and red and dark and hard and bad."
"You mean the city?" the girl asked. Adi looked at her, seeing the girl's deep brown hair fall to the side with her head. "The city is cold and red and dark and hard and bad, but it's loud, too."
Adi, adjusted her shoulders, looking at her sisters in front of her. Ashi was standing behind Aki, guiding her like she always did when mother was nearby. Aki always wanted to escape, and Ashi kept her from doing so.
She never even combed her hair, like mother had said to.
"… The mountains are quiet." Adi added. Too quiet.
It was what let them hear her sisters crying, hear herself crying. When Aki cried after being beaten, and Ashi had to help her. When Avi cried after taking a hit, then being beaten further. When Ami failed to hold her sword, and then was beaten.
They had cried a lot, and the mountains were too quiet to ignore it.
"That sounds bad," the girl spoke. Adi nodded. She understood. "Is that why you're here?"
"The Samurai brought us here," Adi responded. "He… saved us. He kept us from being hurt. A-And taught us new things." Adi recalled the forest giants, the names of the fish and the birds, the number of steps into and out of the forest, and everything else she was told.
The Samurai was strong, but their mother said the strong were also smart. She could be smart.
"You mean like a daddy." Adi did not know what that word was.
"Daddy?" Adi asked. That was a new word.
"Yeah," the girl nodded her head until her hair waved. "A daddy is a man that takes care of you, that keeps you safe and teaches you how to be strong." That sounded like the Samurai.
"What… what else does a daddy do?" If the Samurai was a daddy, she wanted to know. That would make her smart.
"Daddies do lots of things," the girl replied. She sat down though, next to Adi. Her feet kicked out against the colorful matting of the room. She was used to the colors. "They're supposed to protect and care for you."
"And what else?" Adi asked again. That wasn't enough to make her smart.
"Teach you things," the girl went on. "How to walk and jump and skip and run and laugh. Sometimes they teach you how to talk or laugh. Good daddies teach you a lot." Adi listened intently.
The Samurai hadn't taught them how to do any of those things. He'd only taught them about different things in the forest, and how to bathe. The baths felt good, if cold.
"Great daddies teach you things not everybody knows," the girl went on. "My daddy taught me how to snap my fingers and talk backwards!" The girl smiled with her words.
Snap
Even as her fingers made an odd sound. Adi didn't know how she did that. Was it magic? Did Aku do something to her?
"My daddy was amazing," the girl spoke again. But now she changed. Adi could see it.
Her legs were drawn into her chest, her chin was on her knees, and her eyes were looking at a book half-open on the floor. Adi didn't know why. She only knew that look.
It was the same look Avi had after their mother hit her, or taught her too hard. Ashi had it, too, also Aki and Ahi. It wasn't a good look.
It was a look the weak made when the strong hurt them.
"Little ones!" A new voice called into the room. An older voice. Adi looked up to see who spoke.
It was another woman, older than Sister Hannah, older than the Samurai, maybe older than her mother. She was dressed the same, with black robes and a scarf over her head, but with far more wrinkles on her features.
She was weak, weaker than Hanna probably, but carrying a pile of cloths in her hand. They were the same cloths they had seen at the store… before the beasts came.
"I've brought some fresh clothes for you little ones," the woman spoke again. Her eyes were hardly open, but her lips smiled as she spoke. "It isn't proper or good to be dressed in rags." Where they dressed in rags?
They weren't clothes, if what the Samurai and man at the store said was true, but if they were called rags, then it was good to know. Then what was the woman holding?
"Ah, an eager one," the woman spoke, as Adi saw Avi walk up to her. Avi did like things like that. "Here, you are dearie. I made sure to ask Hannah for your size." The woman handled a bundle of cloth to Avi, her hand thin and gaunt.
"New outfits," the girl next to Adi spoke. "Like ours. They're nice." Adi looked at the girl again. Her clothes that is.
She hadn't seen anything in the store that were like them. Everything in the store appeared like the old man and beasts were dressed. Long ends for arms and legs, probably. Thick, too. These were not that.
A scarf around the hip, loose jacket around the chest, and bright colors as well. It matched the room, but not the city, or the forest, and especially not the mountains.
Looking back at Avi, she was already dressing in the clothes. They were like the girl's as well.
A long scarf that surrounded her waist, a layer of cloth that hung to her chest, and a jacket to wrap on top. They were brightly colored, but differently colored. Different than the girl at least. All the colors looked the same in the old woman's arms.
"They suit you well," the woman spoke to Avi. Her thin fingers were pulling at the ends of the jacket. Adi didn't know why. "A little long, but that gives you room to grow, okay?"
Avi didn't answer, but she nodded. Speaking without a need was a sign of weakness, Adi and her sisters knew that. But smiling was also a weakness, showing joy for things not touched by Aku.
But Avi was smiling brightly.
"Oh? Are you next?" The woman spoke as she looked towards Aphi. Adi did not notice her get close the older woman, but she knew why she was.
It was weakness to be in large groups, but partners were always best in training. Ashi was with Aki. Ami was with Ahi, and Avi was with Aphi. So Aphi would be next to take the clothes.
And she did, with far more hesitation than Avi did. But she was the last one.
"You should get those clothes, too," the girl next to Adi spoke. She looked at her, the girl smiling as her head waved back and forth. "They are nice clothes, and it's nice to have nice things."
Adi didn't know if it was, but she didn't know if it wasn't. Nice things did sound nice to have. And her sisters were taking the clothes from the older woman. Plus, she remembered, this is what the Samurai wanted at the cloth store.
He wanted to get her and her sisters clothing. Now this woman was offering clothing to them as well. Even the other girl, the other weak child, said they were nice.
If it was what the Samurai had wanted to get them, then it made sense to take them when offered. So, she would take them. But it didn't teach her something she wanted to know.
Was this something else that daddies were supposed to do?
"Those poor girls," a sister spoke as she watched the seven new ones get dressed. "Something horrible must have happened to them growing up." If the rags were not evidence to her claim, then their actions were.
They lacked even the moderate modesty girl's their age were supposed to have, undressing in the middle of the room.
"Sister Hannah said she saw them in the monitors, being chased by the Stray Wolves," another sister in the room spoke. Her words created an uneasy still in the room.
"Those beasts," the first sister responded. "Truly they are monsters even in this dark city, praying on children as poor off as them."
"Indeed," the sister returned. "Thankfully Mother Mary had spare clothes for them." Spare for the other orphans, be they found or delivered by the few good souls left in the city. "And they are not so misfortune to not know how to wear them."
"But again, decency is not something they know of," the sister commented again. "The girl sin the room would be twice shy if asked to change on the spot. None of these girls even hesitated. They took longer to accept the clothes!" And it was not a falsehood.
"It only shows they have seen more ill will in the world than kind will." The answer was returned. "It is far from the first time we have seen something so unfortunate."
"And it will not be the first time we work to correct it." Both sisters turned to see the Mother returning, smile still kind and hands folded in front of her robe.
"Mother Mary," both sisters returned, bowing lightly to their matron. Then the former sister began to speak. "We were discussing the little ones, wondering more specifically on where they came from."
"They came from the city like all the other orphans," the mother returned. "Lost and abandoned like so many before them. You cannot tell me that you are more disturbed by them than, say, Agitha?" The sister shook her head.
"No, not by appearance, but action," the sister spoke on. "Sister Hannah saw them fleeing the Stray Wolves, and doing so with far more practice than children would. They didn't cry in the corner, they hide silently."
"Then perhaps they are from the darker parts of the city," the mother returned just as easily. "Where even Aku's red light fails to touch. Regardless, it does not matter." Her eyes turned to the screens behind the sisters.
The screens filled through the Monastery, of the many corners, halls, and rooms within. It showed the crucifixes of the Silent Lord and the pictures the grown orphans had left behind. It showed the empty beds and pews.
And it showed the children, playing in the Play Room, acting as children should. Most of the children, at least.
"Should we ask them?" The question of what was obvious.
"No," Mother Mary returned. "You do not rush a growing child. Not to grow and not to tell. They'll speak when they are ready. And they'll be ready soon."
Her hands unfolded, aged and bearing the weight of their years. Her bones ached to move, but she hardly had the apathy to stop her fight.
"We've only to wait, and nurture them as they-" Beep.
All eyes turned towards another monitor, higher than the rest and easy for all to see. It was to the front door of the Monastery, the guarded and sealed door prepared for blade and guns. It gave warnings for the obvious reasons. And one such reason was standing at the doors metallic porch.
A beast was snarling into the camera, a monster that all in the convent knew the name of well. With arms so wide and talons so sharp, it was impossible to mistake him. It was even harder to forget him.
One did not forget the face of a beast that feasted on children.
"Open up sisters!" The beast yelled as he pounded on the metallic door. The sisters did not respond, even as the beast's feral mouth growled into the camera. "I know you've got 'em in there, and we're tired of ya takin' all of our sport!"
Mother Mary snarled her lip at the name. Sport, hunting children. Truly Aku's evil was more tainted than anything else in the forsaken world.
"I'm not playin' around this time!" The monster yelled again. "I got a crew to feed and my own set of problems houndin' my back. If you're not gonna let us in… they'll have to huff-and-puff your door right down!"
The howls and cheers from behind him overdid the audio sensors. For a time, all the sisters present could hear were the jeers of the beasts. That, and the gnawing teeth that wished-for bone.
"Go guard the room," Mother Mary spoke to Sister Hannah, her eyes sharp and focused. Not a word of protest or question was given from the sister before she left. "The rest of you, spread out, prepare for an ambush."
Nervous glances were all she received now before they did as ask, running with their robes in their hands. If the beasts were coming, then the maidens had to prepare. God willing, they live through this.
It left Mother Mary alone with the monitor of the beast, snarling at their door. If it did not lie through its bloody fangs and red claws, then she could only stall. Beasts like the lone wolves did not care for patience. They only wanted to hunt the weak.
Aged hand upon the monitor, she pressed a green button, lowering her head to the microphone next to it. She knew the beast would hear, with the big ears he had and eyes to match.
"The children here are under our protection," she spoke to him, watching as his large eyes narrowed. There was no thought for retreat within them. The mother could see his claws extending from his paws. "Begone from here, or else the events of the pass will continue onto you."
For a moment, the beast stopped its snarl. In that same moment, he stepped away from the door. It left the black door hiding the sanctuary alone, staring at it from the other side of the monitor. Mother Mary watched him.
She watched as the silver beast looked to his left and right, into the crowd of apathetic citizens of the dark city. He looked, watched, and grinned with a smile unfitting of a living creature.
Then he reared his fist back and threw it forward. BANG!
Mother Mary could feel the impact of the blow, vibrating through the Monastery. She could hear the children give a yelp of fright. The sisters would care for them. But they could not defend against the beasts for long.
BANG! And not when the beasts were in.
Mother Mary watched the silver beast tear into the door, his claws ripping through the black steel of the building like paper. It was a terrifying sight, beget by the snarl of joy he had upon his bestial features.
And if that were not chilling enough, his fellow wolves charged in after him. They were here.
"Well, it was worth a try." The mother reached under the desk she was at, grabbing at a familiar and damned weapon. It was crude but effective.
Cha-Chink
"Guess now it's on us."
Jack did not offer himself a moment of respite. He did not deserve it.
The children were in danger, lost in the city, and he was chasing a hunter into a land he loathed to be in. But he could not stop, and he could not rest. Not while the demons were in front of him, and a devil behind him.
In rags of clothing and scraps of metal, he twisted and ran down the streets as they came, looking for any sign, and clue as to where the children or wolves had fled. Between the blaring alarms, bright lights, and apathetic crowd, it was a nigh impossibility, but it was an impossibility he was going to endure.
The children did not deserve his weakness, so he would give everything to see them safe.
'Do you think you can find them?' His devil spoke from the shadows. Jack ignored him.
He ignored the red eyes that stared at him from the shadows he searched in. Ignored them because they pierced too deep to allow him to search for the little ones.
'Do you think they want to be found by?' The madman baited once more, and Jack twice now ignored him.
He shoved the careless people out of his way, too slow for his hurry. The children were in danger, and he needed to find them.
'Perhaps they ran because you are the danger. Have you thought of that?' They ran because there was danger, and Jack had ended most of it.
Now he needed to find them before there was more.
'And it looks like they've run into more trouble, thanks to you.' Jack heeded the words now.
He looked to wear the crawling darkness lurked, climbing up the steps of one of Aku's dark monoliths. It was so much the same as every other, terrible and characterless. Sheets of metal glowing with a demonic light.
But along the side of the wall, up a short porch of steel, there was a hole torn up into its side. Not torn out, torn in.
The children were resourceful, but the beasts were brutal. They were inside, and the beasts had given chase. Now Jack did the same.
'You'll be too late! Just like you were for your family!' Jack knew that if he was, then the beasts were short to live.
He jumped through the hole in the wall, entering a place alien compared to the city outside. Walls with images of life, crosses and crucifixes of another deity, and a warmth that he had seen only amongst those who followed peace.
It was all torn up by claw marks and beast tracks. Jack did not hesitate to run further in. He knew where to go.
BANG!
The gunshots were a clear indicator.
"Bitch!" He heard a wolf scream, the same that had attacked at the clothing store. "I'll gut ya last for that! Make ya watch one of 'em kids bleed out first!" Jack did not slow as he turned down a hallway, never stopping his pursuit.
The bodies of other beasts littered the floor, blood drooling from their bodies. They wore the same jackets as those that were at the old man's store, those that Jack had impaled or broken in their assault.
But among them were scattered a body or two of women, older than the children and opposite the beasts they lay next to. They were as still as the wolves. Jack did not have time to check for their health.
The beasts outnumbered the women on the floor, by a margin far greater than luck would allow. And for the few beasts left, if they were not dead, they were soon to be. The protectors of this place must have been skilled.
CRUNCH! "GYAAAAAH!" But it was not enough.
Jack crouched as he ran, picking up a discarded blade on the ground. It was three quarters his height and half his weight. He made sure to push harder with his legs to keep pace.
"Ghahahaha!" He heard the beast yell. "That's more like it! Broken and bloody!" Jack knew he was getting close.
He knew because the voice was louder, and the whimpering of children clearer. The blade felt heavy in his hand. The idea of quenching its thirst occurred to Jack first.
"You cost me a lotta my guys big time," the voice spoke quieter now, calmer. He must have been alone in the room with the children and protectors, alone and the only one armed, or capable of harming. "Guess you're gonna have ta pay that back in full."
"Give it a rest, beast," Jack heard an elder womanly reply. "You're bark twice as loud as your bite. It's obvious you prefer to blow." An elderly woman who did not fear death.
"Fucking bitch!" Jack heard a hard whack at the scream.
It was enough for him to pinpoint the room. The one with shut doors, a couple of bodies before it, and likely the children behind it. Hesitation was not something he was due to keep.
"You think I'm gonna let you off easy cause you got a big mouth?" The beast kept yelling. Jack did not slow to listen. He reared his foot back with the heavy blade in hand. "For I'm done here, I'm gonna have you lookin' like something Aku'd have ta-"
BAM! Jack's foot destroyed the doors.
Shouts of freight from young voices burst from the room, just after his violent entry. They were matched by the wolf turning towards him, howling on instinct with a maw wide enough to encompass Jack's head. And at his feet were a sister and mother, dressed in the cloth of the devout.
It was clear who were the protectors and who were the beasts.
And just behind them both were the girls. All seven of them.
All seven, huddling together with other children, all with eyes wide and bodies stiff. Terrified, scared, and fearing death. It was a sight Jack loathed to see more than even the demons that followed him.
Because it made him see the red flames of his home.
"How the fuck did ya-" SCHLING!
Jack did not hesitate to swing his new blade. He felt no remorse for the claw of the beast that flew to the other side of the room. Neither for the howl of pain he gave.
"GAAAAAH!" the wolf yelled, falling over in the colorful room and pushing against the ground. He scurried away like a rat, his frame puny and meek beneath Jack. But he did not care.
He did not care for any soul that enjoyed the torment of the innocent children.
"N-No! No! Please!" The beast held up his remaining hand as he cried, pushing himself on the ground and away from Jack.
His ones snarling lips were sagged in despair. His once focused eyes were shrunk in fear. His once sure stance was fallen into whimpering shakes. He was terrified of what stood before him. He was terrified of the man holding the heavy blade.
Jack cared little for his fear.
"I-I didn't know they… that they were your kids!" The wolf yelled again, eyes darting behind the man that stood above him, towards the children he had done his utmost effort to harm. "I-I w-was… I-I was just hungry!"
The wolf tripped over discarded toys, hitting the ground only to scramble further away. Jack did not stop his approach, he did not take eyes from the hunter that tried to kill the little ones. To do so would be to consider mercy.
He had none to offer a killer of kids.
"C'mon! Y-You can't do this, not like this!" The wolf continued to yell, demand some peace he thought he was do. "They're just kids! I-It's not they've got a lot ta live for!" Jack was through with listening.
He stood tall over the gray wolf, twice his size, but incomparable in strength. Jack had bested beasts that had toppled mountains and fought and evil ancient as time.
A wolf in sheep's clothing was not worth the effort of listening to.
"You wouldn't kill-!"
SCHLING!
Jack dropped the blade on them.
Its weight undid the resistance of the wolf's hide, slicing through it with more ease than the robots he was used to. That was the only thing he was used to.
The red gore that came out of the wolf was a wave of crimson, brighter and more damning than the black oil of the machines that he usually killed. It stained much brighter.
Along the once colorful floor, red blood now stained. Along the once cheerful toys, red blood now ran. Along Jacks marred skin, red blood dripped.
And as he turned towards the children, towards their protectors, he saw the same eyes. Fearful, worried, and scared. Far more than seven pairs of eyes, all staring at him with horror.
Staring like the red eyes that rose from the red blood, dripping from openings maws and carrying the accusations he couldn't answer, the truths he couldn't hide.
He had brought this open the home by coming the city. He had invited the horror of Aku's land into this place. The children were endangered worse than ever with him.
Now they witnessed blood and gore and the souls that now clawed at Jack's bare legs, reaching for the corrupted soul that was within him, doused in the same cursed blood as the wolves he killed.
"It's over Jack," his demon spoke from the dead maw of the wolf. "Now get out before you do anything-"
"Daddy!" The name stopped Jack's thoughts cold.
The impact of the child at his blooded leg shook the frost from his mind.
His eyes were frozen and focused upon the girl embracing his leg. Adi, the child with an inquisitive mind and ear length hair, gripping his leg with a strength to turn her knuckles white.
Calling him something he knew he was not.
"You came! You came like a daddy would!" She called him again, holding him tighter. "I knew you'd come daddy!" He had come to their aid, as he had promised. He had killed to protect them, as he had done to machines before.
But he was not their father. It was not a title he deserved to hold in any measure of the world, weighty and noble as it was. It was something he could not deserve to have.
This child did not know of what she was speaking.
"Daddy!" Yet another of the children yelled. Another child gripping his opposite leg.
Avi, with a bow in her hair, hair longer than any of her sisters, and crying the same name to him that he knew he was not.
"Daddy is here! Like he said he would!" She yelled up to him, clutching him with a grip to rival her sister. The two children had never spoken more before, and now they were speaking incorrectly.
"N-No, I…" Jack began to speak, but words tumbled from his mouth like water from the desert. Unfelt and unseen. It was a thank that could not be described, not beyond what was.
"Daddy!" "Dad!" "Dad!" "Papa!" "Dad!" And the rest ran to him, ignorant of the pools of blood or gore.
The seven children of the mountain, the poor forgotten children of a scornful mother, gripped his legs with a strength unrivaled and with a title that was not his. They clutched him, held him, and cried his name at his feet.
Jack did not know what to do.
These were not the children of another family, lost and looking for home. These were not the forgotten youths of a decrepit village, looking for purpose. These were children without a family, clinging falsely to him as if he were deserving.
Could the not see he was staining them? The blood of the wolf he had just killed on their cheeks, staining their clothes, ruining them… mixing with their tears.
Tears that washed over their features, falling into quivering lips and chocking breaths. Tears that so perfectly showed their faces through the blood.
Faces of scared children, clutching at the one thing they thought could protect them…
"It's… alright," Jack finally managed to utter, through his lips that shook like sails in violent winds. He was careless of his appearance. These children were all that mattered. "You are safe… I am here for you."
He lowered himself to his knees, collecting the sisters in his arm. Children that were stained in the blood he had spilled, clutching him as the lifeline to which he was.
Jack held them close, leaving the rest of the crimson died room to be a far-off memory. They did not matter as much as these children, these children that called him something was not.
Yet, something he was willing to be.
"Mother, who is he?" Another child asked from across the room, a child that… was not Jack's.
"He's the father of those girls, Abigail. And he's our hero."
"Are you sure you cannot stay?" The sister spoke to him, arm in a cast yet eyes focused. Children Jack had not seen were gathered at her legs. Hers and the older mother beside her. "We can provide for you, as we have the children before."
"I thank you, but no," Jack responded in kind. Head bowed and eyes on the newly-dressed girls at her legs. They clung to his new suit. A suit provided by the kind women. "You have already provided more than what I feel due."
New clothes for him and the little ones. New shoes to protect their feet. Food for travel, a map of the region, and a gun from the elderly woman. He felt the gun was all he deserved.
But he could not argue the showers and baths were nice. That was far better than a forest's cold stream.
"Further, I cannot stay," he began, but realized it was not enough for the curious gazes upon him. "I cannot stay in this city, not now that I have taken lives."
"They are hardly the first to be lost here," the mother responded, voice far from mocking. She spoke only simple truths. "But I do understand you reasoning, though regretful to use."
"If at all possible… I would recommend leaving here as well." Jack new cities of Aku were not havens for any souls, no soul with a purpose or honest blight at least. "There are kinder parts of the world to stay in."
"Perhaps, but there are still children in this city," the mother spoke again, hand upon the red hair of a girl at her legs. Her eyes, though mirroring her age, looked to the monoliths behind Jack.
The tall dark mocking towers that offered no safety nor comfort to any soul they gazed upon. The mother did not look away.
"If we were to leave, then the little ones would be at risk." The sister spoke now, kneeling as she spoke. Her good arm swept around the children, holding them close. Not one of them shied from the embrace. "That is a risk we cannot take."
And Jack understood. Be it only a few weeks or all those many decades ago, he understood the blight of the sister and mother. Too many innocent lives trapped in a vile world. It would be too cruel to turn away from them, and unforgivable to ignore them.
It was a truth the ghosts would not let him forget. Even as they gazed at him now with eyes of red and bodies charred skin.
"Then I wish you luck with your task," Jack bowed deeper, letting the red light of the city shine on the black cloth of his suit. He looked up to see the holy due doing the same.
"Thank you once more, for everything." The sister and mother both bowed to him, the children joining their protectors' actions.
He did not deserve their kindness. He knew. Murderers and cursed souls deserved only tortured lives. He was living his, and had no desire to spread it to others. He only wished to save those already trapped within it.
"Peace be upon you and safety with you," Jack returned, rising once more. He turned to walk once more, ready to leave the city of evil. There was no more reason to stay.
The seven littles ones… the children that called him a name he was never told before, clung to his clothing and followed close by his side. He had a hand to the head of Ashi, and eyes upon the others.
He had lost them once, and he would not lose focus on them again. Not in the crowd that surrounded them, and certainly not to Aku's vile world.
But through the blaring horns, copious crowd, and red lights, Jack heard something else. Something from the mother, sister, and orphans he was leaving.
"And peace be with you, Samurai Jack."
It was a name he wished others forgot.
Author's Note:
And so, here we are. I hope that this was as emotional as I wanted it to be. Just a reminder that I update my stories in an alternating fashion, meaning that it is MagicTale and Your Father's a Hero this month, and next month is going to be Unknown Legends and Man of Focus
Speaking of, my goals for this chapter were:
The emotional connection between Jack and the daughters of Aku
A bit of Jack humor with the sisters (Christian Nuns)
A few names for the kids, such as Ami and Aki.