Author's Notes
Note: Minor edits for spelling, grammar, and missed linebreaks in misc chapters of The Empty Seat and K.
Yeah, so I literally forgot to post on Wednesday morning and didn't get it until later. Sorry, my dear rat's nest (that's what you people are now called), for the inconvenience. If I ever truly forget to post, I'll just post double next time. At least it wasn't for K as it approaches the end - that would just be a dick move.
Happy rats, and don't do crime!
Chapter 83: Kuroyuri
Volume 4 Short - In which a village burns to the ground, and the survivors must deal with the consequences.
No matter how many times such a grim scene met his eyes, he despised it.
Death.
Humans, men, women, and children alike, all dying by the hundreds when villages fell to the Grimm. The very sight fouled his mouth far quicker than any of his own rancid breath. How he yearned for the simpler days when he could peacefully roam the countryside in search of relics.
It was his duty and his honor to destroy the ravaging lower Grimm and defend the populace, but when Her Grace was not actively asking his opinion of it, he had long since grown sick of it. Anyone would be after years and years of nothing but murder, dismemberment, and torment. He wished he could take greater pride in his divine assignment from Her Grace, but to his eternal shame, he found himself desiring in his heart for new orders. Such craven thoughts brought him disgrace to no end, but he dreamt that perhaps another could take up the mantle of defender so that he may finally rest. Even annihilation would be preferable to his eternal servitude as the eldest horseman, for at least that offered peace. Alas, his aura was too strong, and had never been so much as broken.
His lamentations would have to wait, as his sacred task was not yet fulfilled. There were still Grimm in the village.
A Beowolf ran by him, chasing after a farmer armed with naught but a pitchfork. The man was woefully outclassed, so he stepped in. His long arms wrapped around the monster and squeezed the life out of it, providing the beast with the he himself so desperately sought. The farmer's expression grew confused, but he did not waste the chance that was given to him. Without a word of thanks, he hurled the pitchfork at the monster that had saved him and sprinted away. It flicked off, deflected by his aura without so much as scuffing him, and the farmer was immediately swept away in the talons of a Nevermore.
Lower Grimm with the gift of flight such as these were always the most troublesome. He normally waited for them to descend, but today he felt unusually impatient. A nearby boulder caught his eye, and he swiftly kicked it with his hind legs to separate it into smaller fragments – easier to throw and easier to aim. The Nevermore did not last long.
Grimm fell to his might by the tens. He could slaughter hundreds in a single sitting, but there seemed to be the limit of mere tens wreaking havoc upon this village, hence the slow decline in their ranks. Creeps, Boarbatusks, Beowolves – none of them had a chance.
A Beringel leapt from the top of the belltower and landed right before him, crushing the paved street beneath it. The massive beast lumbered toward him and gripped his upper head with a meaty paw, squeezing against his aura. He made no move to stop it.
The intense pressure of its grip bore down upon him, and the Beringel made its next move by seizing his lower head and attempting to crush that as well. If the centuries of spears sticking from his back weren't indication enough of the limitless expanse of his soul, taking the full force of this cretinous ape without flinching was.
He responded plainly, trotting forward as though he were the prancing steed of a human. The Beringel dug its feet into the ground, but it was no use. This was an unstoppable force meeting a very, very movable object. The two of them slid as the Grimm's legs desperately scrambled for purchase on the cobblestone floor. Forward they went, until the Grimm's back was against a stone wall. Rearing up on two legs, he used his lower head's jaws to bit off the black paw, shook free of its grasp with his upper head, and brought both hooves down upon the Grimm. The creature was instantly slain as his legs tore its skull asunder, though its lifeless form smashed through the brick wall before crumbling to blackened ash.
He was prepared to turn back and hunt down the few enduring Grimm when a whimper caught his attention. Looking back into the abode which he'd just demolished, he caught sight of a small child tugging at an older human male trapped beneath a fallen support beam of wooden and hammered steel.
"Father! Father, we must leave!"
This was the reason he despised the task assigned to him. The father was not yet dead, and he could be saved should the beams be removed; a trivial task, one even Azeban could have seen through. And although he desired to do so with every fiber of his being, he could not.
While it was well within his capabilities to rescue the human, there remained lower Grimm within the walls of Kuroyuri. His assignment, the damned and damning assignment to which he was perpetually bound, was to destroy all Grimm before him. Thus, he could not waste time saving humans when some had not yet been vanquished, no matter how he felt. There was leeway within Her Grace's laws, but never space for disobedience.
Perhaps there was still a chance. If he made haste, he could complete his task and return while the man still drew breath. He tasted the air – only two and thirty foes were still terrorizing the village.
Yes, he could make this work. With a heavy breath, he signaled his departure with the booming clap of hoofbeats.
When he returned to the household of the boy and the father, it was too late. He'd dreaded this conclusion, but he was not surprised by it. This was not the first time such a preventable tragedy befell innocent humans because of his cursed inaction.
The boy was crying and refused to leave the dead parent's side, even as he approached. When the child looked upon him, he saw nothing but broken resignation in those pink eyes. The lower Grimm were no more, so he was free to do as he pleased. Pity swelled within his heart, and he found himself reaching down with both arms. One scooped up the body of the dead human, and the other gently placed the boy onto his back.
He perused the ruins with his unlikely companion for a surviving caretaker to look after the child, but he found none. All the men and women were now food for mushrooms.
The boy sniffled. He rotated his upper head around until it was completely reversed by 180 degrees and looked upon his rider. There was another sniffle from the human, followed by a pointed finger. He followed the weak and wobbly digit until he caught sight of a shivering human girl, no older than the boy. Her bright orange hair easily stood out amongst the gray stones and dull brown timbers, enough so that he'd initially mistaken it for a small fire.
The girl screamed when he approached, but he simply took the boy from his back and placed him next to her. Next, he laid the fallen father on the ground in front of the two of them. Then, he curled his hind legs and lay with them all for a moment.
The unusual trio sat in silence for a minute, before the boy spoke.
"F-Father…he is…gone?"
He nodded.
"H-He would wish for me to lay him to rest, as we did for grandfather. Can you…?"
He nodded once more and placed his lower head above the corpse. The children stepped away, and he let the essence of pure destruction flow through him. No fire was lit, but the man's body was reduced to nothingness and ash. A soft wind blew, and the blackened remainder of life floated away. The young girl waved goodbye.
"Thank you," said the boy.
He rose back to his full height. The children stared, unsure, so he ushered them towards one another with his arms. They met eyes, and he knew both understand what he meant.
"I'm Ren."
"The name's Nora." She looked back at him. "And you are…?"
He did not answer the question, rising instead. The children were no longer alone, safe in each other's arms, and his presence would only endanger them further. Breaking into a canter, he fled the duo to continue his never-ending crusade in Her Grace's name.
A sound caught his ear, so he changed his course to meet it. If it was another human child, perhaps he could hand them off to join the others. Better yet, if it was an elderly human, he could leave the children in their care.
Finally, he came upon the origin of the sound. Sifting through the rubble, he dug free a…
Oh no.
It was a babe, old enough to still suckle at its mother's teat. Said mother was nowhere to be found, likely buried under the rubble. He considered handing it off to the boy and the girl, but they would have a hard enough time surviving as it was with another mouth to feed, especially when this one had no skill to offer. Skills be damned; it was not yet old enough to speak.
Another cry came from the ruin, then another. Panic overtook him, and he frantically unearthed the source of the piteous wails.
By the queen…
This had been a nursery.
He dug out six more surviving infants from the wreckage and tried not to think about the others who had not been so lucky. Who would take care of these babes? Both of his heads looked across the ruined landscape, but it was in vain. He'd combed the town for survivors – there had been none, save the boy and the girl. Who would provide these infants with food? With water? With…what else did humans need? Shelter? Heat?
Water, at the very least, was nearby and would not be an issue. A stream ran through the settlement. He carried the human and Faunus young to the water and looked around for some vessel to carry it in. There! A discarded bowl sat on the other bank. He crossed the stream, retrieved the bowl, and filled it. The babies sucked the stream water down greedily, but their crying would not cease.
Perhaps it was the need for sustenance. He grabbed a water lily from the river, knowing from his observation of humans that all parts of such plants were edible in times of dire hunger. Tearing off a chunk, he offered it to one of the babies. It took the plant, sucked on it briefly, then spat it out and resumed crying.
His tail flicked in annoyance. Did it wish to die? Humans were absurd. At least animal offspring had some basic survival instincts. To be fair, he had no frame of reference. Horsemen did not age; they were created fully formed and fully aware of the nature of their cruel existence.
It was not the children's fault that they were in this situation. The Grimm had taken their lives from them, and they did not deserve to suffer for it. Placing the water lily in the bowl, he patiently ground it up into a fine paste, mixing it with some stream water. The babies ate up this meal far more readily, but he knew it would not be enough. Human physiology made them strange hybrids between carnivores and herbivores; as such, they craved twice the variety of nutrients that a typical animal did. A weakness, to be sure, but one he could not change.
"nnnnnnnnneed mmmmmmmeat"
Thrace, the first and only horseman of destruction, rounded up his children and set off in search of food.
Next Chapter: The Ten Things Jaune Did – In which Ruby, Bronzewing, Jaune, and Weiss take to the skies.