8
"Get up, Crona."
Crona doesn't, and wishes he could tell her that it's no matter of will; he simply can't.
Can't stand, can't lift his head, can't do a thing save huddle there on the bloody tiles and choke on his own tears. No one ever told him it would be different, that there was more than one way to die, or that people do it differently than mice and kittens and even dragons. The Little One hadn't offered any pleas for its life.
"Do you know how difficult it was to bring them all the way here alive, just so you could learn how to do something correctly? You're very ungrateful, and I don't know why I even bother trying to help you."
He thinks that two of the men had brown hair, that one was blonde, but had tried to avoid looking at their faces, and it's impossible to tell now. The fresh reek of bowels opened to the air pervades the room, stronger than any of the animals have been; Crona can't begin to wonder why that is, only that the smell makes his stomach ache.
"Crona," Medusa orders again. "Get. Up."
He tries, and his hands prickle with a saturating numbness. Weakly, he shakes his head as he hiccups through the tears.
"I can't! I can feel them inside me, right through Ragnarok! They're still moving and I don't know how to deal with that!"
Ragnarok shifts above him, shrugs, licks his lips with a gummy sound. "I don't know what you're crying about, stupid baby. These are some of the juiciest souls I've had since getting stuck with you."
"Be quiet, Ragnarok," says Medusa, calmly. Three vector arrows glide down, wrapping around Crona's arms and legs and pulling him to his feet like a marionette. His head swims.
When she smooths back his hair tenderly, he searches for the strength not to bury his face against her, but is unable to find it. For once, she doesn't throw him away. "I know, I know...it's a frightening thing, finding true power. But if you keep this up, one day you'll be a Kishin who never has to know fear again."
"I don't want it..I don't..."
"But you will, Crona." That tone that leaves him no disillusions of having any other choice. "Don't worry. Soon, it will become easier."
"How soon?"
"Well. That depends on you, now doesn't it?"