Author's Note (07/30/2016): If you want some extra Yin Yang Effect stuff to keep you held over between my updates, I highly suggest you jump on over to my art blog, cobalt-draws on Tumblr. I draw Jaku stuff from time to time and even post bits of the story as I'm working on it! You'll find something there that you'll appreciate, I hope.
Also here's a ref for Leonard: post/148109074234/leonard-madison-the-pastor-turned-demon-from-my
That said, let's get on with Chapter 3!
Warnings for this chapter: Rape mention and general violence mention.
EDIT (12/21/16): I couldn't stand to look at this chapter anymore. After having reread it recently, I remembered that it was absolutely wretched and I made an attempt at fixing it. Hopefully some issues with the flow and pacing have been corrected with this update. Of course, this chapter is still not perfect and may still need to be reviewed further in the future, but for now this will be plenty good enough. There's a lot of new stuff in here, but hopefully it's not so different that I will have to update previous chapters to accommodate my changes.
Also I've decided to leave off on describing Aku's disguise until the next chapter. So if you remember my previous description of his disguise before this update, please forget it. xD
Chapter 4 is coming soon, y'all! Thanks so much for your continued patience. 3
~Cobalt
This Chapter was first published July 30th, 2016 and last updated December 21st, 2016.
As Leonard ushered him into the tree, Jack found himself thrust into an impossibly cavernous entry hallway so large that a small elephant could easily have fit in the hall with them—that is, if the hall hadn't been so crowded with books and other assorted magical items. A fire's soothing orange glow flickered at the end of the hall, and the shadows of Leonard's expertly-mounted taxidermy pranced in the wake of its light as though alive. Their glass eyes and bleached ivory looked almost too lifelike in this light, and it seemed to Jack that as he looked to them, they were studying him in their own turn. But, after a breath, the samurai stepped forward into the hall of dancing shadows without fear— and was cloaked in a murky semi-darkness as the door was shut behind him.
The very moment he set foot in the demon's home, the once-spirited air suddenly quieted and stilled itself as though tamed by his very presence. Despite the welcoming heat, goosebumps crawled their way along his arms at the abrupt shift in atmosphere, as the air outside had practically vibrated with magical tension in contrast to the unlikely stillness that somehow existed within the tree.
Leonard brushed past him at that moment, apparently indifferent to Jack's veiled discomfort, and began the precarious journey to the next room without a second look in the samurai's direction.
"This way, then," Leonard said good-naturedly, and beckoned for Jack to follow him as he stepped over the first of the many obstacles in the hall with deliberate grace.
With his host's back to him, Jack allowed himself to take in his surroundings. At regular intervals in the hall, there were stacks of books and papers piled up to chest height, arranged so precariously that the slightest brush might send them toppling to the floor like dominoes. Jack stepped gingerly around the teetering pillars, and more than once did he have to step over equally bothersome piles no taller than his shin, which squatted in this semi-darkness like assassins, just waiting for one misstep.
Although bookcases had been spelled into the walls in an effort to save space, some were so crammed with magical objects that they were at risk of overflowing. More than once, as he was led deeper into the tree, did Jack have to dodge things that protruded from the shelves, or step around small piles of things that had long since spilled onto the floor.
As Jack picked his way through the hall, he was surprised to see how easily his host negotiated the turmoil. Despite his wings, which surely made for an obstacle all their own, the demon made his way through without disturbing so much as a single page of parchment. In fact, Jack was astonished to see a wing reach out, and adjust one of the particularly troubling stacks without the demon even stopping.
Besides the books and parchment, Jack could pick out a few other choice things from the clutter. He spied a collection of suspiciously glittering jewelry in a chained display box, whose links had been tacked to the wall at all corners with nails that looked decidedly too large. The jewelry captured the light with a queer deliberateness, almost as if the firelight was drawn to the depths of the gems' intense color, and Jack kept as much distance as was physically possible between himself and the display. He had neither trust nor desire for such trifling brilliance.
In still another place, he could pick out what appeared to be a fractured bit of eggshell with a strange scale-like texture. Dry and brittle, yet still bright with color, it could not have been older than a few months. Something about it seemed so very different from all the rest of Leonard's clutter, and Jack would have paused by it and examined it closer were he not here for a purpose. Besides, the entrance hallway as a whole was shot through with gentle whispers of damnation that had him on edge; so he was eager to keep moving.
It did not help matters that Jack could make out a number of other obviously supernatural objects from where he stood (the likes of which he had heard much about, but had never dared to believe in). He eyed these things warily as he passed, for the mere sight of these artifacts broached subjects that mortal man dare not attempt to comprehend.
As they waded deeper into the hall, it became obvious to Jack that Leonard shared none of his discomfort; for the explanations Leonard offered on this or that as they passed certain objects of interest poured forth unhurried as though the former priest were talking with a friend rather than a stranger whom he had only just met. Jack would have found his company enjoyable, were he not surrounded by such forbidden and somewhat ominous feats of sorcery, and so he paused only as long as was necessary behind Leonard when the demon would launch into another of his roundabout stories. It soon occurred to Jack that this could be the demon's way of proving his magical competence.
Jack considered what he already knew about his host's character. For one thing, not many years ago he had been a priest (according to the witchdoctor who had graciously provided Jack with the demon's last known location); and there was even talk that Leonard had made the transition from human to demon out of mere necessity. Of course there was also the faintest suggestion of regret that Jack had noticed in their introduction, and aside from that Leonard seemed relatively personable, accommodating, courteous… But, Jack questioned, would these things be enough for the demon to do what was right?
Jack frowned. He didn't think he should hold his breath. Leonard was a demon after all, and as far as his understanding of demons went, their own self-importance came before all else.
At least he could take solace in the fact that Leonard appeared to have a great depth of knowledge on magic and magical artifacts, and seemed willing enough to hear him out. With the demon's guidance, perhaps he might finally determine a new destination? The thought brought Jack some slim hope that made enduring this uncomfortable supernatural clutter more than worthwhile.
Jack breathed in deep to dispel these troubling thoughts, and at once the lines in his frown seemed to soften. There was at least one other good thing to say about the demon's home. A previously undetectable smell of cooking meat and its indistinct bouquet of spices wafted to him from the opposite end of the hall, and Jack crossed his arms over his midsection in the hopes that Leonard wouldn't hear the grumbling of his stomach. He couldn't recall the last time he had eaten anything as significant, but it was quite enough that he had been welcomed into a stranger's home without also imposing onto his dinner. Despite this thought however, his mouth watered mutinously just the same.
Here, at the entrance for the next room, the dim orange glow of the fire had intensified almost to the quality and brightness of the daylight from early morning, with all of the heat that the outside world had been lacking. And now, the smell of cooking meat had all but wiped Jack's mind clear of all other thoughts. The savory, rich smell that had greeted him at the door had concentrated at the end of the hall so thickly that it could almost be cut with a knife, and Jack's stomach grumbled loudly before he could suppress it.
"The meat's not quite done yet," Leonard said pointedly, but not rudely, with his back turned to him, "It's got a few hours or so left to cook. That should be plenty of time for you to tell me your story, shouldn't it?" Leonard asked good-naturedly, stopping now and turning to face him. "And afterward I'd be honored if you might consider joining me for dinner." He smiled, and his tusks glistened creamy-white in the firelight.
"Thank you, but I couldn't trouble you any more than I have already," Jack attempted to reason, but as before, his stomach begged to differ.
"What nonsense!" Leonard exclaimed with a rough bark of good-natured laughter, "I haven't had company in such a long time. You're really no trouble at all!" The demon clapped a hand on his shoulder and ushered him into the living room, brooking no room for further argument.
Meanwhile in Aku's citadel, the Emperor stood before his ancient, floor-length bedroom mirror hardly recognizing himself. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, then stretched an arm behind his neck and adjusted the hood of his cape which rested unused between his shoulder blades. Although he looked like something from a dream, he definitely was not seeing things, and doubtless he had outdone himself with this one.
Looking at himself, Aku couldn't help but let slip a genuine smile. Although he supposed he should feel excited for the delicious treachery to come, he was proud and more than a bit surprised to find that instead he felt well in-hand this time around.
So many times before, he had let himself take chances, had even let himself succumb to his own emotions, and had suffered the consequences of defeat. But, as the saying goes, that was then and this was now. This day, his emotions and impulses were in control... For the most part, anyway. When he had allowed himself his little slip earlier that morning with the decision to delay the advance, it had echoed memories of previous such situations so much so that he had not even gotten through the first hour without giving in to better judgment. And so, he was of the opinion that those few minutes should hardly count.
Even still, he tightened his jaw in determination as he smoothed the folds out of his vest with deliberate sureness. He looked up from his work and scowled faintly, baring tusks at his own reflection. Damned if I, the Ruler to End All Rulers, should fall as a result a foolish risk that I needn't have taken..
But, perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. It had only been a small risk, after all. It's not like he had already removed the Samurai from the Most Wanted lists, as if he had already been detained or destroyed; nor had he constructed a display case in his private sanctuary where he would place the Samurai's head when this ordeal was at its end. No he hadn't done anything like that, and although the delay had been foolish, at least it had been minor enough. Surely, Aku reasoned, it wasn't enough to cost him this key first step in his newest plan. Satisfied, he pushed these thoughts aside.
He cocked his head towards the mirror and rocked back on his heels as he critically regarded his reflection for what had to be the hundredth time that hour. Once again he inspected his reflection for flaws, and was satisfied to find that of course there were none. Say what one might of his mistakes earlier that day, at least he had been uncompromising in his choice of detail in this, his newest fraud.
He had been especially careful with this newest disguise. Not only had he overcome the problem of his stubborn color palette (which had given him away so many times before), but he had also found a way to preserve his appearance when reflected in mirrors and in water.
His body was lithe with an animal's grace. He easily towered over most other men. In the same way water might conform to its container, so too had Aku's magic hemmed itself within the shell of this newest human form. In the young sleepless hours of that morning, he had practiced at replicating human mannerisms like a machine and; through his efforts at walking, running, dancing, and honing his particular brand of swordplay; he had almost perfectly replicated the liquidity that had been characteristic of his demon form.
No longer could he be called ungainly, and no longer were the limitations of a human's range of motion considered his undoing. His every move suggested the sureness one might witness in the panther which crossed like smoke from branch to branch, its journey in the trees unheard until it was far too late.
There was no way the samurai could possibly know his true identity when they should finally come face to face.
He struck a heroic pose, and drew forth the ragged black cutlass that was this form's weapon of choice. The blade's viciously serrated, and purposefully dull edge cast the light aside in a deadly arc of simulated steel as Aku tilted it this way and that, angling the reflected light in unfriendly patterns along the floor and then along the walls as he admired his own craftsmanship.
He smiled with satisfaction as he angled the face of the blade towards his person, and the him reflected on its surface smiled back. It wasn't a kind smile. The reflection bared teeth suitable for tearing through flesh.
Not for the first time was Aku entirely confident in his upcoming success.
With his cloak billowing like a storm behind him, he strode from the room with great purpose, sword in hand. Plans aside, he had certain special guests that were anticipating his council, and he had kept them waiting for far too long already.
Thinking about the festival-going, empire-defying ingrates chained to the walls of his dungeons, and the screams to be ripped from their throats before the hour's end, Aku's high spirits reached a level they had not known in many moons.
His laughter echoed like that of a madman in the room he left behind.
Jack inhaled sharply at the sight that awaited him as he and Leonard entered the living room.
Although the room was spacious, no doubt it was the largest in the house, the sense of crowding and disorganization that Jack had experienced in the hallway was incomparable to the disaster that was the demon's living room. Shelves were magicked into the walls here, just as they had been in the hallway, and as before they were all consistently overflowing and in a state of chaos. Neither the floor nor even the walls could escape the tide of Leonard's magical disarray. Even the furniture was buried under its own layer of clutter.
"Pardon the mess," the demon said apologetically, "I wasn't expecting company this month, otherwise I might have done something with.. this..." he gestured broadly to the room, before making his way to his chair and flopping down into its well-worn comfort with a sigh of content. The chair was situated just so in the room that it might simultaneously face the fireplace, the coffee table, a neighboring lesser-used arm chair, and a nearby window all at once. Situated as it was, one could simultaneously see all corners of the room, except for those directly behind, and Leonard watched him from it with a dignified curiosity as though he were a researcher taking notes.
Beside Leonard, angled in such a way that it might face the fireplace while at the same time facing the demon's chair and the coffee table situated between, there was a modest armchair of oiled grey leather. In it, a small scaly-looking creature about as big as a cat (colored suspiciously quite like a broken eggshell Jack had noticed in the hall), with hooves, fetlocks, overly-large ears, and a small antler in the middle of its forehead, lay coiled and sleeping soundly, profoundly unaware of Jack's presence or perhaps even indifferent to it. Jack found himself momentarily in awe. Kirin were the stuff of legends, revered for their benevolence and purity, and thus to see one in a place so full of evil… Jack did not know what to think. After a moment's consideration longer, in which Leonard continued to watch him without a word from his chair, the samurai moved on.
In the center of the room, a fire pit had been hollowed out of the floor. Over it, a roasting spit, on which was skewered a particularly succulent cut of pork, was rotating languidly of its own accord. The hot juices which oozed in rivulets of moisture from the meat, popped, sizzled, and crackled when they fell into the flame below. Beside the spit, a cauldron of stew was cooking over a smaller flame all to its own. The smell of spice and roasting meat in the room was undeniably strong and difficult to ignore. Jack breathed in deeply and could feel his mouth watering.
But, as he looked to the pit, he realized this fire was not the major source of heat and light in the room. There was something else, something burning hotter and brighter than any ordinary fire Jack had ever known, and it was behind him. He turned to look.
For the first time, Jack noticed the impressive fireplace which had been hollowed out of the living room's circumference. The fire in its black iron grate burned slowly, dancing with itself not at all unlike the strange shadows in the entrance hall. It seemed to Jack that it angled its blistering focus towards him when he turned to face it, and individual tendrils of this intense orange flame even went so far as to reach out at him through the bars only to pass back away from them with a strange ghostly reluctance. The fire gave off no smoke, nor seemed to be burning any fuel that Jack could see. Its heat was sweltering, far hotter than any ordinary flame. Even from where he was standing, well away from the fireplace, Jack could feel himself breaking into a sweat.
"Hellfire," Leonard explained needlessly, indicating the tendrils of flame which coiled smoothly in and around one another to a life and mind of their own. "It's the only kind of flame I've found that won't go out unless it's doused—even if it has no fuel to burn. You mustn't get too close to it, though. It has this bad tendency to leap out at newcomers whose sin it's not familiar with." At this, the demon favored him a certain sideways glance that made Jack bristle faintly with indignity.
Leonard looked expectantly up at him from his seat. "Anyhow, if you're done looking around, you're welcome to take a seat." He rested his hands on the arm rests of his chair as he continued, "But, if there's something you'd like to take a closer look at before we begin, you are more than welcome."
Jack almost did not hear him. He stood rooted to his place staring at something he had spotted from across the room. Even from where he stood, the thing was immense. It appeared to be some kind of collage. Newspaper clippings, Post-Its, photographs, and string sprawled across an impressive map of the world which by itself easily spanned a third of the room's impossible circumference.
"Well," the samurai admitted, "there is one thing I would like to see closer..." Leonard followed his gaze and smiled in a mildly pleased sort of way before dipping his head in consent. At once thankful, but at the same time questioning himself, Jack began wading through the turmoil which littered the floor, his eyes on the sprawling legacy which beckoned to him from across the room all the while.
He could feel Leonard's eyes burning into his back as he approached it. This close, Jack had to tilt his head back to take in the full scale of it. In gigantic old-English calligraphy across the top, so high off the ground it almost disappeared in the darkness of the ceiling, there scrawled the title "Journey of the Sorcerer and Samurai" in a deep black ink. Jack almost did not realize he was holding his breath.
"I see you've found my map," came Leonard's voice from just behind him, and Jack was startled that he had not heard his approach. He could almost hear the modest shrug in Leonard's voice as he continued, "You might say I have been following your story with keen interest, Jack. It really is quite inspiring, the way you stand up for what's right. The way you defy that monster.." He stepped up beside him, arms crossed behind his back, with his hands resting on his elbows. He surveyed his work proudly, and in that moment Jack was struck with just how little he truly knew of him. Suddenly, he realized why Leonard had spoken to him as though to a friend. He looked back to the map.
Post-It notes, handwritten in a careful script, were pasted at regular intervals to the face of the combination map and corkboard. The first web of yarn, blue in color, connected points of interest on the map where newspaper articles in various languages detailed the very journey which had led Jack to this unlikely forest. He stepped closer.
The first clipping he inspected turned out to be an article on the liberation of the dogs. Beside it, there was a color photograph of the three, Angus McDuffy, Drifus Alexander, and Cornwall Bartholomew Rothschild III, with what looked to be a handwritten accounting of an interview. Jack couldn't help but smile at the sight. The date on the picture was fairly recent, within a year or so of the present, and it warmed his heart to know they were well. And there were others besides. Next to this, he spied another which had been written over the Woolies and by that one there was one for the Scotsman. On and on the articles went. There were testimonies on Jack's bravery, his selfless acts of sacrifice, and even a few accountings of the various uprisings that were inspired by his actions. Seeing this now, Jack felt almost staggered with the sheer quantity of them and the scale that his influence seemed to reach. Although he knew he was a beacon of hope for this troubled future, he had never before grasped just how far his influence seemed to reach.
Jack allowed his eye to wander to the second trail of yarn, this one in red. He frowned in dismay. This map detailed a journey whose sort he wished he had not seen. Atrocities, the likes of which were barbaric in ways previously unconceived, scrawled along the map in a wave of unthinking carnage. Genocide, mass suicides, unchecked bursts of crime, and all of it just under Aku's nose. Senseless beatings. Rapings. Murders. Organized crime. The text on many of the articles suggested that the demon's so-called mercenaries, assorted cohorts, and self-described followers were to blame. Beneath certain articles, there were even mentions of prosecution efforts to varying degrees of success. If Jack had not already known some of these horrors firsthand, he was certain he would be stunned motionless.
Still other markers, these wreathed in private clouds of Post-Its and connected by a trail of black, were more directly related to the Emperor and far less vague. "Aku Levels Village in His Search for the Samurai!" yelled one headline, at the same time "Aku's Beetle Drones Destroy Wildlife Preserve" was shouted by another. Jack felt himself filled simultaneously with cold disgust and hot vengeance.
Without thinking, Jack stretched an arm up and indicated the articles. "I recognize that village. If the date is correct, I had only just left the village the previous day before Aku showed up to ravage it.." He thought about the villagers now, cold in their graves. They offered me a free meal and a warm, dry place to stay the night. Many of them confided in me their support, that they believed me in the right, and how did I repay them? I left them undefended to suffer Aku's blind vengeance. The knowledge brought back the familiar feeling of grief and regret that he had experienced before, in other such situations, when he had not been there to stop the evil before it was too late.
He almost could not bear to look at the accompanying photograph. It was an unkind piece, stark in its reality, all smoldering wreckage and bleak wasteland. A child stood before a burning field of corn, clutching a doll to her chest. Behind her, the charred wreckage of a cottage smoldered miserably in the failing light of early evening. Jack looked for a moment longer before he tore his eyes away.
"And this," he continued with an effort as he tapped the edge of the Wildlife Preserve article, "I cut through this forest on my way to the Temple of Bishamon..."
And so it went. Leonard was silent as Jack walked from one edge of the map to another, and indicated this article or that one, telling bits of the story as he had experienced it. Others, he would simply pause before them, look once, and turn from them with eyes downcast. He walked from one end of the map to the other on his journey, embellishing on certain articles and simply confirming the validity of others.
When finally he could read no more, Jack stopped at the far end of the map. A little over two hours had passed. At some point during the reading, an egg timer had gone off, but neither Jack nor Leonard made a move to attend it.
He spoke with his back to Leonard. "Why...?" the question came out as barely a breath, hushed by the weight of so many memories and wrongs to be corrected.
"Because," the demon hummed quietly, his voice seeming so far away, "Aku… is the one who conned me out of my soul. If anyone could stop him from destroying the lives of other innocent people as desperate as I once was, I knew it would be you.
"And besides," He continued with emphasis, "I know what it's like to be shunned for doing the right thing."
Jack turned to face him, "You have known this entire time." It was not a question.
"Yes, I have known. But, before I offer to help, I think we have something else to attend," He smiled easily and stepped towards the fire pit and the bubbling cauldron of stew, leaving the samurai to his thoughts.
The spread was modest, but Leonard was rather proud of himself for putting forth his best effort on short notice. Before himself and his guest, he had laid out a fairly respectable meal... And well, perhaps it wasn't the grandest he could have mustered, but Jack was eyeing it like a man saved in spite of all its simplicity and Leonard could not have asked for a higher compliment.
The cauldron of stew that he brought away from its fire was bedecked with bright lumps of carrot, sweet orange gems standing brightly to attention, amongst the more modest likes of potatoes, tomatoes, peas, ground beef and macaroni noodles. There was bread, homemade only hours prior, whose crust was not yet hard. And then, there was the hunk of pork at the center of it all, still steaming hot from the spit and swimming in its own juices as it flaked to pieces on its platter. For himself and his guest to drink, there was a choice of water, green tea, or black tea.
Again it was not too broad of a selection, but it was more than good enough he supposed. Better this than what he had had the other night, he reasoned. He shuddered just to think about what an awkward ordeal that would have been. Yesterday's dinner had been leftover beef and mushroom stroganoff from three nights ago. There was no way he would ever consider serving leftovers to a guest of the samurai's caliber, so it was just as well that he had scraped the refuse into the fireplace when it was all over and done with.
On the floor beside his chair, Leonard took care to place a bowl of fresh salad greens and some water for his Kirin. As soon as the bowl touched the floor, the creature's ear twitched delicately and it lifted its head from its chair to inspect today's fare. Seemingly satisfied, the creature leapt down from its chair in one smooth motion, landed weightlessly as fresh snow, and made its way to the dish. Standing respectfully off to the side, Jack watched the creature with his arms crossed in his sleeves. His eyes followed its every movement with reverence and something close to awe.
But Leonard paid little attention to these things, for his mind was elsewhere as he set the living room table. He was silent with thought as he worked, and was especially aware that the samurai might have questions after what he had revealed. Aku… is the one who conned me out of my soul, his thoughts echoed mockingly. Damn it, why had he felt the need to say that? Perhaps it had served as justification for his intense interest in the samurai's quest, perhaps it had served to give the samurai reassurance that they were on the same side, but… He resisted the urge to sigh. It had been a grand mistake; for the questions about what he had meant were not things he relished thinking about.
But then again, Jack might not feel the need to ask, especially given how polite and unassuming the samurai had thus far proven himself to be, and this thought alone brought Leonard some slim hope.
When finally he was done arranging the plates and cutlery, he allowed himself to take his seat. Leonard gestured loosely to the chair his Kirin had evacuated and Jack, polite as ever, took it with much grace.
And then, after the customary "Help yourself, there's plenty to be had," Leonard eagerly embraced the blessed silence which came after. He savored it much as he savored the pork, chewed it slowly and with relish, for the uncomfortable prospect of reliving his own past sat before him like a vial of bitter medicine. Perhaps thinking on it would help the healing, but that did not make enduring its bitterness any more pleasant.
At some point well into their meal he must have stopped eating, so deep in thought was he, for the samurai's voice jarred him back to the present.
"Are you alright?" the samurai asked gently from his place across the table, and Leonard willed his sour, thoughtful expression to soften as he looked up. "Forgive me for saying so, but I noticed you have been rather silent since I finished looking at your map. Have I offended you in some way?"
Leonard favored him a measured look. The samurai was every bit as polite and respectful as the tales had claimed. Despite his prolonged time in the future, he had remained true to the humility and teachings of his previous masters, which was more than Leonard could say of himself. Looking at the samurai now as the silence stretched thin, Leonard could see much of his old self—the He that had once been pure, the He that had once embraced the teachings of one greater than himself. But, these were broodings for another time.
"Nonsense," Leonard dismissed him, "I was just thinking about what to do next." He lied easily, and grew serious to capitalize on this falsehood.
"However truthful as you may seem, I have a few tests before I believe you absolutely genuine. Pass them, and I will be more than willing to share my knowledge of a certain.. something.. that just might be the ticket you need to get home."
He stood from the table, and was satisfied to find that Jack kept his seat and puzzled expression. "Now then," he held out his hand, palm up, "All that you have to do is allow me to borrow your sword."
And that had precisely the effect he was anticipating. Now it was Jack who looked like he had tasted something bitter, for only a moment when his expression had slipped. Leonard resisted the urge to laugh at the face he made, but could not resist a smile. Oh, he thought with a certain smugness, this is going to work like a charm. There was no doubt in his mind that the samurai was genuine, but these tests would serve a duel purpose. First and foremost, they'd be a convenient distraction from the questions about his own past—if there were any; and secondly, these tests would answer some obscure questions he couldn't quite put into words.
"I know nothing of your customs," Leonard admitted with carefully gilded mock-solemnity, without lowering his arm, "So, I don't know if asking for your sword is disrespectful. But, I assure you I mean no harm, and the blade will remain unscathed just as you will… if the tales you tell are true, anyway."
He felt like a puppeteer pulling strings. With this thought, he fought to keep his smile from growing.
Jack was silent as he removed the sword from its sash and held it lengthwise in his lap. He looked at it hard, as though asking its solemn opinion. He even looked up at Leonard, gauged him for a moment, and then back down. Leonard knew he had him right where he wanted him.
Finally, Jack spoke. "Very well. If you're certain this is necessary, and you promise the sword will return to me unharmed." The samurai held it out lengthwise, reverent even after all these years, and Leonard accepted it with equal ceremony and respect. Inwardly, he brimmed with an excitement that he had not felt in years.
Well, Leonard thought to himself as he admired the flawless leather sheath, supple and unscarred despite the many battles it had witnessed. It's a good thing I'm on his side. A man weaponless is a man dead.
The samurai, for his part, remained calm as ever, his expression revealing nothing of any unease or mistrust. But perhaps that was another of those things they taught warriors, how best to keep those stony faces, Leonard mused quietly to himself as he drew the sword from its sheath and admired the dangerous edge of the weapon.
Its craft was unlike anything he had ever seen. Although it was a simple thing for a certainty, unmarked with neither ornament nor flaw, it brimmed with a power he had previously never known. Its steel gleamed like the sun, shone bright like Justice. Vengeance and Liberation seemed to physically reflect off its surface as Leonard watched, their promises sweet and true and pure as honey in the intense golden light of the fire. He wondered just how sweet victories won by this blade tasted. Leonard snorted smoke, dismissing these thoughts, as he turned from the samurai.
He walked to the fireplace. Standing before the grate now, with the blade held in his fist, he felt the strangest urge to pray. Should the weapon fail this test, it would be lost beyond redemption and he would have singlehandedly condemned the world to a Hell previously unknown. It was this thought, and not the fire's intolerable heat, that made him break into a sweat. He shuddered, and his eyes went to the flames once more. He watched for a moment, waited for a likely opening, before he steeled himself and shoved the blade up to its midpoint through a gap in the bars. The flames parted immediately, as he had hoped. Thank the Gods, he thought and sagged with relief.
He held it there a moment longer, marveling, before he removed the sword and turned to face Jack again, victorious. "Hellfire can melt any material placed in it," He intoned not without a certain delight tinting his tone of voice. "Only blessed objects ever survive its inferno." He looked down at the sword again, its wicked edge indifferent as ever, and traced a finger along its surface. "This isn't even warmed by the flames." He smiled in satisfaction.
Leonard noted that the samurai sat up straighter in his chair as he approached. That was mildly amusing in an annoying kind of way. "What do you plan on doing for the second test..?" Jack asked warily, seemingly unsure if he wanted the answer.
"Oh it's rather similar to my first test. Again, nothing that will hurt you or the weapon if that's what you're afraid of." Leonard assured him, deliberately sidestepping the real answer to Jack's question. He stepped closer to the table so Jack could see him better. There was only one thing left to do, and this would be most unpleasant. He gritted his teeth, hard, and quick as a flash drew the sword across two fingers of his own left hand, where the skin burned away like paper, peeled, curled, and smoldered to pieces.
Despite the pain, Leonard found himself laughing; the sound coming out sharp and harsh with his mingling pain and the relief to be done with it. That was simple enough. The pain was beyond measure, but it was a sacrifice he had been willing to make. The distraction of his two supposed "tests" had spared him those awful questions he had not wanted to answer, thank whatever gods were listening, and he would have gladly subjected himself to the holy sword again and again if it meant he could spare himself those damned questions in the future.
Of course, despite this victory, he did not miss the way the samurai had shrank away from him, as though appalled. The movement had been so subtle he almost missed it. Again, that was another of those things Jack did that he found equal parts amusing and annoying. He was beginning to see where Aku was coming from, with that endless hatred of his. All this stiff courtesy and infinite politeness was beginning to grate his nerves. Of course, another part of himself—the good part, he hoped—was appalled at such a dark thought. All this "Being a Demon" nonsense was really wearing on his sense of humanity, he realized not for the first time in recent years. It was disheartening, to say the least.
"So that's why my kind cowers at the mention of your sword," he hummed thoughtfully after he had calmed his laughter. "I suppose then the tales are true, and you truly are the warrior come to redeem this pitiful world. As if I had any doubt." He scoffed, as though waving aside what just transpired. He sheathed the weapon and passed it back to the warrior, who quickly stowed it away as though protecting it from further disgrace.
"Did the results of your tests prove satisfactory, then?" Jack asked, not without a faint hint of hopefulness, and perhaps undertones of indignity.
"Yes, Warrior, your sword easily passed my tests." Leonard assured him, almost as one would assure a child. He took his chair, ponderously, and his Kirin leapt into his lap where it promptly tucked its legs beneath its body much like a cat. It looked to Jack with wide, innocent eyes as Leonard scratched it between its ears, and it pushed its head into his hand with a quiet noise of content like the gentle song of bells.
"Now then," Leonard continued truthfully, his spirits still high on his previous successful act of deception, "this is information I have been saving for a rainy day. So listen well, perhaps write a note or two.." He passed him quill and parchment, should he need it, "and you'll find, come the end of your journey, that at least one demon hasn't played you false." He sipped from his tea, took a deep breath, and began a tale of his own.
Now was one of those times that Aku found himself absurdly thankful to be immortal. Between the incessant ramblings of that swine on two legs— that pitiful excuse for a demon— and all this infernal waiting… it was a good thing he had years to spare. Or so he found himself thinking.
He had left his citadel hours ago and, now that he had been crouched in wait for such a while, Aku found himself thinking distantly that perhaps it would have been best if had he just delayed the advance like he had originally wanted to. As it was, the samurai and that loathsome creature had been talking for such a long time that Aku swore he might just barge in and end their conversation then and there if they didn't stop soon. He just wanted all this needless talking to end.
Yes, he admitted his plans would keep; and yes, he admitted, he also had all the time in the world; but Gods, how nice it would be to cut to the chase. In truth, however, he knew he still had a fair amount of time left to wait, and so his present form of choice— a black adder akin in size to a man-eating Anaconda— coiled itself more tightly around the branch he had chosen. He settled his head on the rough, crumbling bark.
Before him, there opened a screen much like the one back in his citadel. Somewhere in the long days since the samurai had returned to his life, he had picked up a few new tricks like that. Wreathed in flames which sprouted from seemingly nowhere and burned seemingly nothing, the image suspended before him revealed what was happening within Leonard's tree, so close yet so very far.
He watched it almost without seeing. These things he saw were all the same to him; and he would be indifferent this time as well were it not for the presence of that insect of a priest coming into and out of view. He narrowed his eyes as he watched. Those few years ago, when he had passed through the nearby village on his search for a likely pocket of rebellion, he had happened upon the creature's misfortune entirely by chance and had leapt at the chance of a soul, free for the taking.
Apparently, the man Leonard Madison—for he was a mortal man at the time—had a daughter who lived many miles away. And it just so happened she had fallen ill with a certain incurable disease, as mortals were wont to do. Some kind of blood illness, leukemia or something to that effect. Aku did not care to learn its name. All these mortal illnesses were the same.
When Aku had accidentally revealed his powers in the village, what else should the holy man do but fall to his knees, and beg for his help. Apparently his God hadn't answered his prayers quickly enough, and the daughter had been given only a week to live.
Sneering with derision, yet not without a certain delightful whisper of irony, did Aku deign to help the blasphemous, overweight bastard.
One soul, which had been faintly gray with sin when he drew it from the mortal's chest (rather than the customary off-white he had come to expect from priests and other such holy men), it had hardly sated his appetite whatsoever. It was a trifle morsel, to be certain, yet a deal was a deal and he had held his end of the bargain. But, it was still to his great delight that he lied.
He smiled now to think about it. I've done all I can, but I sense that your daughter is no longer with us, he had said, or something quite like that. The fool quite literally burst from the trees—for they had performed the ritual in the dark of the forest, well away from the village— wreathed in his newly acquired fire. The creature had felt a grief black as the Hell he would come to know; Aku knew this, because he could feel it rolling off the creature in waves. Gods, how savory that suffering had tasted.
Aku had watched as the newly-minted demon set about demolishing all things in his path. The creature's shrieks of anguish sounded quite satisfying to him as he watched a fellow demon abuse his new-found powers, much like he himself had those many millennia ago.
Ah, such a sight made him proud. His work in this village was done.
But still, he thought as he coiled tighter still around the branch, I have no tolerance for those who abandon their faith. It serves him right to think I had cheated him.
He scowled in displeasure at the memory of such a horrendous act of blasphemy, and would have crossed his arms in annoyance… had he not been in the form of a snake. Instead, he coiled more tightly around his branch of choice, hearing the wood creak in protest yet again beneath his coils. Distantly, he almost thought he could hear the tree screaming. There was another amusing thought.
His branch was situated well up above the other trees, so high up that none other besides the great behemoth that was Leonard's could rival it. Aku and his horde lay encamped on the farthest edge of the black forest's circumference. From here, he could easily see Leonard's tree, where the samurai and the other demon were still chatting away, same as he could have seen the gargantuan thing from miles away.
Looking at it from this close, even though he was a great distance from it all the same, Aku couldn't help but think the other demon was just showing off by growing such an unnecessarily large tree. Even when he himself had grown his own tree house in the "Hermit Heist", as it had come to be known in his mind, his had never been so very… superfluous, for lack of a better word. He could scarce imagine why any one person would need a home that large.
Nobody outclassed Aku at magic. No. One.
Beneath his tree and spreading a grand distance to either side, a small assembly of WarBugs™ lay in wait newly outfitted with the deadliest upgrades his scientists could muster. His abominations had with far more patience than he did, and for that he was thankful. If the robots should move without his say so, his plan was as good as scrapped.
Since their summons, the robotic insects had quickly organized themselves into their respective platoons, and had since remained impossibly still, in the way that robots do when tasked to remain so. Not a single unit had moved even a step since they had organized themselves. No one shifted to a new position, adjusted a wing, nor extended a newly-outfitted proboscis. The lay was tensely still, each a predator poised to strike.
He looked down at them now, and was struck with how perfectly menacing the insects had become. Sure, they hardly looked different, but should one see their upgrades in action... Well, Aku was certain that onlooker might start whistling a different tune.
Firstly they were all outfitted with a fire-breathing apparatus, a nozzle quite similar in appearance to a proboscis that could be extended from between their silvery jaws. Their reservoir of biodiesel, green and renewable as any forest (aside from, well, this one), had been engineered to be long-burning and intensely resilient to traditional methods of dousing.
Secondly, the bugs now ran off solar power. Their hard outer shells were now outfitted with an intricate network of interlocked micro-panels capable of absorbing enough power to propel the insects for a minimum of 100 hours after a single full charge.
Third, their eyes were now outfitted with heat-detecting rods so they could detect life in unlikely places, seek it out, and eradicate it. They had also been given night-vision that enabled the abominations to work just as efficiently in pitch darkness should available heat signatures be too abundant, indistinct, or impractical. They had even been outfitted with an x-ray, should all else fail.
All units had also been given their own pair of wings, these far larger, less rigid, yet more durable than the last. They truly made a fearsome sight, when they carried the mechanical deliverers of death airborne to clot out the very sun.
As their crowning improvement, their Artificial Intelligence and hive-mindedness had been fine-tuned. The longer a battle stretched, the more the insects would learn of their enemies' battle tactics and how best to counter them. If one unit was in trouble, other units would rush to its aid. They coordinated their efforts, made up for another's shortcomings, capitalized on one another's strength. They were One, and the thought brought Aku another surge of wild glee.
All these improvements made the insects far deadlier than their predecessors and had even earned them a new affectionate nickname from their depraved creators in the laboratory. Aku scoffed at the memory. "Firebugs" was hardly an intimidating name at all. He probably would have chosen something better, like "Hell-Beetles" or something.
He looked back to his screen, and sighed in blessed relief. Leonard had finally finished talking. Perhaps that was why the forest suddenly seemed so quiet.
He and the samurai now stood in the entrance hall of Leonard's tree. Jack slipped a piece of parchment up the sleeve of his gi while Aku was watching, and he narrowed his eyes in contemplation, somehow thinking that had he listened more carefully to the other demon's televised rambling, perhaps he would know what was written there. No matter, he would know soon enough. Finally, Leonard stepped past the samurai and grabbed for the handle of the door.
Seeing this, Aku spoke aloud abruptly, and all the insects bristled beneath him as they heeded his every word. "Listen well!" he boomed, his voice so loud it shook the very trees.
"Level the giant tree, destroy the samurai, and—" he paused, thinking of how best he might complete the command. Finally, he spoke again. "When I am in sight of the samurai, I want you to attack me as though you are not under my command. Attack me as though you seek to kill me, and do not relent even if you hit me, even if I fight back, even if I pretend to be in pain. As your Commander, your Emperor, your Creator, let it be so."
"Go." And they did.
Aku watched their progress with the thrill of bloodshed and deception coursing hot in his veins.
Parting Words (07/30/2016): For those of you who are wondering on why I chose to give Leonard a Kirin.. At first it was just because I like the idea of Kirin, but then I read their Wikipedia article and I found this particular snippet of text:
"…Qilin only punish the wicked, thus there are several variations of court trials and judgements based on qilin divinely knowing whether a defendant was good or evil, and guilty or innocent, in ancient lore and stories..."
Thus, I decided that Leonard having a pet Kirin would be most appropriate, seeing as he is not truly wicked. As for what I mean by that, well, you will just have to wait and see.~
