Chapter 15: Broken Memories

Miles from Figaro Castle

The Falcon had flown at half speed the entire night and finally its destination was in sight. On the horizon, the multiple towers of Figaro Castle appeared as a small mountain range. Dust churned about underneath the low flying airship as it struggled to make it to the port just outside the castle. The area around the castle itself was very delicate, needing soft sand below its foundations in case it had to submerge in an emergency (the ability to transport itself and embed itself in the earth was one of the contributing factors in winning the last war). So finding a suitable spot to a massive ship was mind-bogglingly precarious. But the pilot of this ship was the best in the world . . .

"We're finally here," Setzer told Mik, breathing a sigh of relief.

"It's about time," Mik yawned as he stood up and stretched out his arms and legs. The tension from the previous day's events had subsided and the Falcon's crew was remarkably subdued, "I'll go tell Shadow."

Setzer gave him a slight nod, holding the wheel steady as Edgar's bodyguard started went down below. The stairs leading down into the main compartment were splintered and sticking up dangerously everywhere. The lights were out and finding a ninja dressed in black, that doesn't WANT to be found would be nearly impossible. Mik walked to the wooden railing that overlooked a lower level of the lobby and searched for any signs of Shadow, but he was nowhere in immediate sight, "Shadow?" Tracing his hand along the railing, Mik walked down a shorter flight of stairs to the lower part of the lobby and tripped on a damaged timber, falling onto his stomach, "damn it," he huffed to himself, rubbing his limbs and face as they suddenly grew warm from slamming against the ground.

When he pushed himself up again to resume his search, Shadow was standing right in front of him. They stood there for a moment and said nothing to each other, Shadow's eyes intense and painful as he looked into Mik's. A cloud passed out from in front of the sun and both of them were illuminated in the many colors of the fading sun through the holes in the hull of the airship. A blue makeshift bandage covered Shadow's midsection, turning a rusty burgundy in color at places where the blood soaked through and dried. Mik wanted to extend his thanks to Shadow for saving his life, but as he looked at him, the ninja's eyes sent him a message of distrust. Instead, he only relayed the message, "We're at Figaro."

Figaro Castle

The intense warrior walked stealthily through the castle, holding his breath and neither his feet nor body making any noticeable sound. made his way by the daunting obelisks inside the main hall. He was careful to walk in the shadows of the daunting obelisks of the grand hall so he wouldn't draw any attention to his location and be able to defeat his enemy. Neither had any weapons to speak of besides their own two fists, so it was critical to get as close to the other as possible without being seen in order to land the finishing blow. The defender of the castle was sure now that the other person was close . . . little things like the disruption of a breeze from outside or the rise of temperature from within a room was easy to pick up on from a seasoned fighter's experience. He had trained himself to detect these things over countless battles. However, if he knew about this, then certainly the other knew as well . . .

Just as the thought of his foe crossed his mind, the enemy showed himself, smack dab in the center of the cavernous room. There was an air of mystery around this seemingly unafraid challenger. He showed no defensive or aggressive posture, and the way he stood seemed as though he was taunting his pursuer to attack. Infuriated at the confidence the enemy had, the warrior jumped into action and began his attack.

With incredible quickness he threw a barrage of punches at his enemy, his fists slicing through the air with amazing speed and accuracy. It would seem that every punch connected but the defender was so nimble that he was able to dodge each one, leaning backwards and to the side as though his body was naturally reacting on it's own to the attack. Hitting only air, the aggressor grew angrier and put more power into his moves, making his technique sloppy. The enemy took advantage of his weakness and countered with the same moves that had been used on him. Now on the defensive, the first warrior barely managed to duck away from the moves being used on him. Was his enemy really using the same style of attack against him? If so he would know which attack was coming next and prepare for the opening.

His master had taught him that knowing your own weaknesses is the key to true power. Now more than ever the sagely advice was true. Duck . . . slide . . . block . . . . THERE!

Phwap!

His strong right fist connected with a dull, satisfying slap of bone against bone. The pain was minimal to his tough hand, but he was sure that the other guy's chin was feeling it. While he relished landing the first blow he left himself open for the exact same attack from his foe.

"Shit!"

The enemy's fist hammered down on his lower jaw with the same intensity that his had and it sent them both stumbling backwards. Dazed, they both mirrored each other and tried to shake off the previous attack, rubbing their jaws before dashing back into the fight. The same complicated dance continued on for a seemingly eternal loop. If the attacker landed a punch to the chest, ribs, or to the stomach . . . the other person did exactly the same to him, matching both the technique and energy of his every move.

But it was all an illusion. The defending warrior was starting to see through his unwavering foe. This was a match of speed, but not of power. At first it had felt as though the other person was delivering just as nasty of a blow as he was but each successive counter attack had been lacking any stopping power. They both moved in near perfect symmetry with each other, but the outcome of the battle wouldn't be a stalemate. He had the upper hand in power and endurance. Now it was just a matter of catching his opponent off guard. Jumping into the air he straightened his body out and connected with a double punch to his foe's chest. The force of the attack sent the other person flying backwards but just as soon as he had reached the ground he hard righted himself and was sprinting towards him for the same counterattack. Sure enough, as soon as he was in striking range he jumped up into the air and twisted his body while stretching his fists out.

Closing his eyes the defender of Figaro Castle clasped his hands together and chanted words to himself, recalling a lost language that had been passed down from his warrior monk master to himself years ago. In an instant he summoned all the latent ki floating around his body and focused it into his aura. "This is it!" he screamed as he pulled all the ki into his body. A sphere of sandy blue energy focused itself into his palms before turning light blue in color, almost white.

The enemy continued to fly forward, oblivious to the coming attack as the king of fighters forced the ki from his body in a beam of hot light. He closed his eyes and let it all pour out, feeling it connect with its target, "You're too slow!" he confidently yelled as he opened his eyes, "WHAT?!" His foe had matched the beam with his own and they both poured everything they had into overpowering the other's deadly blitz. The attacks sent sparks flying in all directions before finally equaling each other out with a thunderous boom that shook sand from between the castle stones in the ceiling. Both of the fighters were thrown backwards and slammed against a pillar.

The first person picked himself up and launched a deadly volley of these bolts of his aura from different points in the room, ripping apart pieces of the stone pillars that supported the ceiling as he tried to get the upper hand on his foe. He intensified each attack but each time the beams were negated just as the first beam was. Bricks became displaced and began to fall from the ceiling and sand stirred up around the both of them as they now stared at each other from opposite sides of the room, their bodies exhausted and chests heaving.

What could he do? What where his options now and how could he beat his enemy? Many questions raced through the defender's mind as his muscles began aching. Sweat had collected in a V across his pecs, which stretched out his blue tank top and dripped to the ground below. His veins were jutting out of the cannon-like, bulging arms from the intensity of the last attack. The other warrior merely looked in his direction through a disguise of five sets of colorful tribal robes as if to relish in his disappointment. His enemy showed no sign of wear or a drop of sweat through the clothes they wore.

And then suddenly, just like that the king of Figaro loosened up and cracked his neck, "It's been a good workout," the master of the Blitz commented to his sparring partner as he stretched out his arms and took a few deep breaths, "But it's time I finished this," Sabin knew that the mimic could only copy what it could see, so he used the only move that was fast enough to elude Gogo's supreme sense of observation was . . . Bum Rush.

Signaling the beginning of this awesome blitz attack, Sabin lunged forward and sprinted around his challenger, building up speed until he appeared only as a continuous shadow around his target. Gogo stumbled backwards slightly, getting a swift punch to his lower back that kept him in place. Sabin continued to charge up his remaining energy until his aura to glow silver pink. The mimic did its best to keep up with him but couldn't. In a flash the king stopped and jumped forward with legs apart and arms bent at the elbow. He pulled it all together until the excess energy shot upwards above his head and then he started to attack. At half the distance to Gogo, Sabin's aura flashed from silver to golden yellow, like that of his short, spiked hair. Then he disappeared . . . he couldn't teleport, but he was moving so fast it appeared as though he could.

He appeared again in front of his foe for a spilt second and Gogo tried to strike out at him but the fighter had disappeared again before he had connected. His last and only chance of survival was trying to escape. Gogo took a step forward and was met with a crushing blow to his sternum, "Nope, don't think I'll let you off that easily" Sabin said to the silent mimic. He reeled back to his initial position and clutched his chest with his left hand. The seemingly unpenetrateable wall of Sabin's appeared all around and trapped Gogo. The mime thought it would be slick and try to trick Sabin with its next move but was dead wrong in assuming that it could be done. The mime quickly took a step forwards and then backpedaled as fast as possible backwards . . . and that's when the pain set in . . . the attack had started.

Gogo could feel the blast of air as Sabin missed with his first attack but when the mime stepped backwards, Sabin struck him with a bone-jarring blow to the spine. As Gogo collapsed to its knees from the pain, it was struck again on the cheek, tilting Gogo's head downwards. Sabin followed up with a ferocious uppercut after that which sent his friend sailing backwards four feet in the air. It felt like slow motion to the master of illusions when he began to descend back to the ground. All of the mimic's energy was expended and it was left open to any attack. Hopefully its body would hit the ground because after today, it was probably going to hurt the least. But alas, it wouldn't be. Painfully jerking its head upwards, Gogo saw Sabin reappear then disappear again. When he showed himself again he was above the mime with both hands clamped together, readying for the finishing Hammer Blow technique to send his opponent into the ground.

Sabin's legs bent behind his body and his chest bulged outwards as he raised both fists into a position behind his head. With unforgiving ferocity he snapped each body part back into their original position and connected with his attack. Gogo was hit hard in the torso and hit the ground with such an impact that the stones underneath him crumbled and flew upwards . . . Every bone in its body was broken, every muscle ruptured . . . Gogo could only do one thing. He lifted his right arm and hit it against the floor, tapping out.

"Medic!" Sabin yelled. In seconds, groups of doctors and nurses rushed in with various potions, already in the position to administer them, "You did good today Gogo. Thanks for staying in there. Same time next week?" Gogo nodded as multiple X-potions were poured over his wounds to bring him back from near death. It was almost comical to see him glow green from the healing items as the nurses took him away on a medical bed.

A random guard rushed into the training room with a distraught look on his face as the king began to walk back to the throne room, "Sabin, come quick! The Falcon's here and it doesn't look to good!"

"What?! Which side of the castle?" Sabin asked the messenger.

"Windward side, the northwest!" he answered, pointing eagerly.

"Please follow me, we might need your help!" Sabin said as he grabbed two doctors that had been helping Gogo.

Airship Port, Left Tower of Figaro Castle

The Falcon had literally limped into port, barely able to stay afloat. As soon as the main engines had been cut it crashed to the ground below, "Look out!" Setzer screamed to the ground crew below. Littered with small holes and poor patch jobs, the Falcon had lost the ability to stay afloat. Half of the engines were completely destroyed and they were lucky that the gas inside the blimp wasn't volatile enough to ignite.

Sabin was just in time and watched as the propellers shut off and dug into the soft sand near the castle. The dust settled, and the remaining power died down before the crew members began to disembark off the ship. The first of the survivors was a mechanic lending his shoulder to an injured friend. They were soon afterward followed a by an engineer and a co-pilot climbing down a rope ladder from the upper decks. A few more maintenance workers appeared from inside the hull of the ship, each with a unique injury to their bodies it seemed. They were met by the doctors and sentries of Figaro Royalty and were led into the safety of the castle. Sabin was anxiously watching for his friends, hoping that everyone was okay.

Shadow was the first to show. He leapt from the ship's top rail, which was at least fifteen off the ground, and fell to the sand below. Shadow lost his footing as he shifted his weight to his legs and crashed face first into the ground, a very unusual occurrence from a man of his strength.

"Shadow! You alright man?" Sabin was shocked to see the elite ninja weakened and reeling silently in pain.

"Yeah . . . fine," Shadow responded, a little shaken up from his misjudgment and still grimacing from the pain. As he pushed himself back up, sand filtered out from inside his mask and slid off his black ninja gear to the desert below. He squinted as he regained his proper balance, indicating the pain he felt underneath his smooth guise. Out of reflex he held onto his side, trying to support it, "I need to get this treated quick before it gets infected," Shadow took some steps in the direction of Sabin and tumbled to his knees again. The king quickly motioned to some waiting nurses who they ran over to help Shadow to a room for treatment. He put an arm around each of their shoulders for support and as they walked by with Shadow, the ninja extended his arm and patted Sabin on the shoulder," In case I don't see you again today . . . thanks," he told him.

Gratitude . . . it was something that couldn't be earned that easily from somebody like Shadow. He hadn't learned to express himself until very late in life. Nobody had done anything nice for him when he was little and without parents. He was always looked down upon, always was on the run, escaping from his latest victim. As a teen, Shadow and his friend Baram were an invincible team. They were master thieves that stole everything and anything they wanted from anybody. The both grew up thinking that you could get whatever you wanted just by taking it. To them, there were no limits. Nothing was given to you cause things of importance weren't just given away.

That all changed one fateful day, more than a decade ago . . .

"They got me, I can't go on anymore Clyde!" Baram shouted, gripping his wound to stop the bleeding.

"No! Get up! If we can make it to the next town we'll be alright," Shadow told his friend, trying to lift him up. Baram screamed in agony and Clyde was forced to put him down. It had been just a regular heist, but something had gone horribly wrong. Somebody had been alerted to the planned robbery and had set a trap for them. Clyde managed to escape with only minor cuts and bruises, but Baram was slashed in the leg, severing his main tendon.

"Don't you hear the voices? They're coming for us!" Baram pleaded with his partner . . . his best friend, "Save yourself . . . I'm gone anyways." Clyde tried to carry him again but Baram yelled out. " I'm over here you son's of bitches! Come and get me!" Clyde jumped back, shocked, "Get going . . . I'll keep them off your trail."

Clyde took a couple steps back and looked at his friend one last time, then, he ran.

Baram had given Shadow his freedom . . . and a new life. In his second life as Shadow, Clyde had helped to save the world, but he still had that problem with gratitude. Clyde never asked his only friend to lay down his life for him and because of that he never said "thanks". After defeating Kefka, Shadow told himself that he'd stop running. Saying thanks to Sabin was a small step in the right direction. Maybe one of these days he would confront his fears and lead a normal life . . . but until then, he must deal with his inner demons if and when they surface.

Sabin was too busy helping Shadow to notice Mik and Setzer departing the Falcon and coming his way. He turned around to check out the ship and Setzer began talking with him. Mik had his head down and back turned to the heir to the throne of Figaro.

"Sabin, your-" Setzer was cut off.

"Where's my brother?" Sabin shot at Setzer, a bit worried.

As he made his reply, Setzer turned his slightly to the right, letting the wind blow his shoulder length white hair get tangled in the wind, "That's what I was trying to say . . . Sabin," Setzer's expression suddenly became evidently grim," he didn't make it. The cult at Kefka's Tower captured him. Our mission failed . . ."

"What!!" Sabin screamed, fear and anger mixing in his voice. His normally relaxed frame now tensed up from the anticipation of what happened, "Tell me EVERYTHING that happened!"

At this point Mik joined in, "It was my fault! Please forgive me!," Mik shouted, wanting to sound as sincerely as possible as he got down on one knee before the new king, "I've let you and the Returners down . . . I'm a failure. I should have gone last . . ."

Sabin reflected on the events that were unfolding before he mad his next comment, "Is he still alive?"

"I don't know," Mik replied, lowering his head again.

"If there's still a chance then we're going to go back for him," Sabin announced quickly," If there is any chance of saving him, we'll have to orchestrate it fast," The others nodded their heads in agreement, " Setzer, I want you to call together an emergency meeting of the delegates for the Returners. Mik, I want you to check on Shadow then do the same. In the mean time, I'll have the technicians here work around the clock to fix the Falcon. We're going to need it."

They dispersed and went their separate ways. Mik ran as fast as he could to the balcony that held the Pigeon Express and sent a letter thinking nobody would notice. Then he left to go check on Shadow. Little known to him, Gogo had been watching from his hospital bed.