Sorry for the delay people, but you've all heard it before; life gets busy. This story is almost done and I hope to have the last chapter(s?) up before too long!

Time moved ever on. Leonardo didn't pay particular attention to the number of days that passed; what weekday he was currently on became needless information, but he knew it had been weeks since his foot fiasco. During which time he had managed to foil four attempts to pillage the townsfolk under his protection.

He stood in a small clearing just north-west of Astilla. Eyes closed, breathing deep and steady. He took in the sounds and smells of the jungle. It had been a while since true meditation was achievable, so he figured he would try something a little different.

Slowly, he reached back and gently unsheathed his swords from their respective saya. The long, drawn out noise from the steel scraping the inner sheaths was all too soothing. A sound so familiar, but recently forgotten for the fast-drawing alternative. But there was no danger now. Just the urge to practice his first sword-kata at a tai chi pace. The two blades made their way out to the sides, becoming added lengths to his outstretched arms. Visions of the ones that had lost their lives when he had first arrived here flashed across his now-unseeing eyes.

Swords drawn back, and slowly lowering to cleave the top of an invisible enemie's head. The hole. The spikes. The pain. The fear. The regret.

A careful strike to the right side of an enemie's neck. Santiego, the kindly priest's hand outstretched with food held within it. A smile on his face. Strike to the left side. Pablo crouched with a smile on his face and laughing.

Dropping to one knee and striking low to the left, taking out an attacker's legs. The onslaught of Astilla.

Rising and turning the blades backwards, delivering sharp, bladed, elbow strikes. The orphanage burning. Turn and raising the blades up, the dull edges pressed against his arms to block an oncoming blow. Santino pulling a gun to Santiego's head and killing him.

Upward horizontal strike, the movements now getting unintentionally faster. The bodies that remained after the attack had ended. Another downward slash. The new graves that adorned the ground beside the church.

Fast swing down to the sides, removing any blood that had collected on the blades. The countless other raids that had taken place, despite his best efforts. Two figure-eights. The screams of innocents, Santino's revolting face, and laughter. Blades returned to their saya. Kill the bastard. Kill Santino.

With that he opened his eyes. Sweat was beading down his face as though he had just taken on an army. He was panting too; not from exhaustion, but raw rage.

He stood there, trying to control his breathing, when a distant sound snapped him out of his dark trance. His head whipped in the direction of the sound, as he strained to hear it again. A couple minutes passed with no more raucous than that which is natural for the jungle, and Leonardo released a breath he didn't know his was holding. Still though, his eyes peered cautiously into the thick tangle of trees, as if an imminent threat lay within.

Judging from where he thought he heard the noise, it came from around the smallest-name-unknown village in the area. Without so much as a second thought, he bounded into action. Better safe than sorry, he thought to himself. The branches snapped passed his face in his mad-dash, and miniscule cuts appeared on his body as moments slid by.

He didn't make it to the town. He didn't have to. Leonardo stopped in his tracks at what he saw.

At the mouth of a cenote, three militia thugs stood with their guns and machete drawn and ready. Further in, two more were bent down over a struggling form.

A disgusted snarl wrinkled the mutant's face into something fearsome and almost unrecognizable. He stalked closer as the scene played out before him. Those standing laughed and made sick remarks towards their private show. In front of them, one man was holding a woman down on her back with his hand over her mouth, while another was crouched down preparing to commit a heinous crime. The one crime that drove Hamato Leonardo up the wall.

Getting into a position with a better view of all of his enemies, Leo reached into his cloak for the three kunai he had etched from stone. With ease, he tossed his handful at the standing forms, hitting targets with each one, killing two on impact. The other one bent awkwardly, dropped his gun, and gave a shout of pain before toppling over, trying to reach whatever had just entered his flesh.

Without missing a beat, Leo moved in. In an instant, he stood before the two on the ground, whom had been shielded from his kunai. In a swift movement, the blade of his single drawn katana found its mark at the neck of the man holding the woman down. His head rolled off his shoulders, and his body dropped backwards. He hadn't had time to even yell. Leo spun on his heel so that he was facing the man who remained untouched, whom was now half bent down, half standing. Full of fear and uncertainty. Leonardo just snorted in his direction.

As he took a step, the man mirrored him, but his shaking knees gave out and he landed on his butt. He raised one of his hands up in a feeble attempt to ward off his attacker.

"Dios mio, p-por favor-" again, without missing a beat, Leo picked up the discarded machete and inspected the blade. It already wore blood. His gaze drifted to the quivering man at his feet in disgust.

"Pathetic, dishonorable, waste." He took a sidelong glance at the woman who still lay on her back, broken and bleeding. Her eyes made contact with his before he broke it and looked again at the man. A new fire burned within him as he took slow, menacing steps forwards, re-sheathing his katana and gripping the machete with both hands. His knuckles turned white from his intense grasp on the worn leather. The man crawled backwards, trying to get away from the creature that obviously meant to hurt him. He was so lost in fear, he made no reaction as he made his way over the body of a fallen comrade.

Leonardo knew that to prolong suffering was wrong, and if you were going to end someone, they should be ended swiftly. Rapists though, in his opinion, were not eligible for such mercy. A million ways of hurting this man swam in his head before he decided.

With a smirk, he raised the weapon, blade down, and brought it towards the man, whom let out an ear-splitting scream on impact. The blade was planted into the ground between the legs of the usurper, efficiently severing his manhood from his body. Blood began to pool as pained curses spurted out from him.

Leo spat at him before turning away, ignoring the tortured sounds that cried out behind him. Sounds that would stop soon enough; the filth would bleed out quickly. He knelt down beside the woman and glanced over into the cenote. He was shocked to see another man- a villager -floating face-down in the reddened water.

It hit him fast. He recognized this couple. They lived in the smallest village with their son, and would occasionally visit their elder daughter whom lived in Astilla. She who happened to be the brown-haired girl he had saved from being raped months earlier.

Before he could stop it, tears started to gather in his eyes. The woman lay, staring up at him with glassy eyes and a sad expression. She was bleeding. There was nothing more he could do for her. Or so he thought.

Just as he lowered his head in shame, he felt a warm hand cup his cheek. He looked up to meet her gaze once again.

"I'm sorry" he managed through chocked sobs, he didn't even know if she could understand his words. Failure.

"No," he was shocked to hear her speak, the woman's voice was quiet, and strangely peaceful, "you saved my little girl." She showed no hint of fear. Not of what had just happened, not of him, and not of death. Her breathing was slow and shallow, but she managed a small smile nonetheless. "Ghost of the Jungle," she took a shaky breath, "Spirit of all Those Dead." Her fingers moved in a small attempt to stroke the turtle's saddened face. He reached up and placed his hand over hers, before taking her cooling fingers into his own and lightly squeezing them with both of his hands. Leo sniffled and continued to stifle any more sobs, but couldn't quit his trembling of grief.

The woman's free hand made its way behind her neck where it undid the necklace she wore. She grabbed the pendant and pushed it into her saviours gentle hands. He opened his palm and studied it. It was golden with a large red gem in the center. Her words snapped his attention back to her,

"Por favor," she took a breath, "give that to my children?"

He looked at it and then looked back into the dying woman's eyes. A look of seriousness adorned his face, "I will. I promise you that."

She smiled at him, with a strange mixture of sadness and content, "You given our people so much hope," Leo noted her breathing had all but stopped, causing his heart to miss a beat and ache for what would come. Her eyes started to drift shut at her last words, "gracias, espiritu." With that she was gone.

Leonardo's attempts to hold back his sobs lapsed, and fresh tears started to stream down his face. He softly closed the woman's half-open eyelids before placing both of her hands on top of her stomach and fixing her dress so that it was properly draped down past her knees. He stood and made his way into the water. He couldn't bear to look at the corpse as he grabbed it and drug it out of the water and laid it down next to the other. Husband and wife, together until the end.

The solemn turtle stood at their feet and bowed low, and in a humble tone, lamented, "gomeifuku wo inorimasu."

A moment of silence passed before muffled grunting caught Leo's attention. He looked over to find the man who he had caught in the side with a kunai. He was attempting to crawl away unseen. Attempting.

Silently, Leonardo strode over and stepped in the center of the man's back, halting him. The prone figure let out a grunt before his breathing quickened as he realised what had happened. Leo looked at the wound where the kunai had been pulled from and deemed it a mild flesh wound. At worst. He promptly flipped the man over with his foot, this time stepping down on the abdomen, resulting in an airy grunt. With a scoff, the turtle reached down and, grabbing the man's collar, drug him to his feet.

Leo's beak was nearly touching the man's nose as his eyes pierced into the other's very soul. The turtle's dark iris' held no sympathy within them, only hollow hatred.

"Do you understand English?" He asked, his tone low and full of malice. The man nodded his head frantically,

"S-si, y-yes!"

"Good. Cause your gonna deliver a message for me. Tell Colonel Santino that if he wants to keep his filthy hold on the innocent people here, he had better come down here and face me himself."

" B-but, Señor, h-he does not believe that you exist!"

"Who does he think keeps stopping his raids?"

"Villagers?" Leo let out a snarl and barred his teeth.

"Drive back to wherever the Hell he's hiding, and make him believe!" The man was tossed away, where he proceeded to stumble over to Jeep that sat nearby, screaming, "I will," over and over, before putting the vehicle in gear and taking off.

Leo watched as the Jeep disappeared down the jungle path. A strange calm washed over him. He clutched the golden amulet in his hand subconsciously. The precious object would return to its rightful owners, but only when safe to do so. There is, after all, a proper time for everything. It would be a symbol of the freedom that Leonardo had vowed to give these people. A symbol of his task done.

Determination enveloped his mind. He could feel the tyrant Santino's reign was soon coming to an end.