Mhaieiyu

Arc 2, Chapter 6

And the Feeble Stood

“Few on the Howler. I’ll take this one," the boy said.

The little pirate’s thin grin stretched to the limits of his face. An honest fight was always a thrill, though there’d be little fairness in what he had in mind.

In seconds, four Urchins of different sizes dropped from the sky, landing between Tokken and Chloe. They soon cornered the beast into a corner, leaving her to watch their shadows do away with her warmth.

The quartz-hair teenager could barely pry his lips apart, never mind speak. His senses were suffocated by a mixture of fear and overwhelming adrenaline. Unnatural even. Nevertheless, he was left a quivering mess, his legs so wobbly he might just trip over while standing still. The dagger he clutched so tightly dripped a drop of blood onto the pavement.

The self-proclaimed ‘Pride’ exhaled in amusement.

“Look at ya. Messy. I ain’t a fan of tattoos, and this?” He points at the bleeding slice across his cheek. “This’s bound to make a mark. Ain’t a fan. Not one bit.”

“Bu… B—B…”

Mumble tilted his head. Tokken’s only words were fruitless stammers.

Narrowing his eyes, the criminal took a step forward. “Ay, ya don’t have to be so theatrical, ah? Speak for fuck’s sake.”

Tokken didn’t even care to notice the crescent blades. He wasn’t capable of noting the cord of sharp iron that connected the two handles and dragged against the floor. He could hardly bring himself to reason with this ridiculous world. It took the squeak of his canine friend to stir his attention, but still, his sight was doubled and blurred.

In the instant the lad’s head turned away, Mumble dashed forth, slashing with both of his blades. The first struck the Drainer’s handle, to no avail, but he ducked under the untrained swing of the boy and slashed at his chest. His jacket and shirt were cut, but Tokken was hardly skinned.

The youngster pushed himself backwards, but no matter how far back he walked, the younger boy was too quick. The way he nicked at Tokken’s body looked more like a bully’s harassment than the advances of a murderer. Quick, short, stinging cuts over deep stabs. The way Mumble laughed proved he was simply testing the taller teen’s patience and tolerance.

“Where’s that crazy look, ah? Go on, fight back. Go on!” ‘Pride’ said, forcing Tokken to back up into a wall.

Surprisingly, as the shorter boy succumbed to his arrogance, Tokken made a mad leap against the younger’s chest, only missing his knife’s thrust as a spike of hesitation struck. Still, the pair dropped to the floor, and surprisingly enough, Tokken was on top. But not for long.

“What in the… fuck?!” Mumble screamed in anger, looking up at Tokken’s sweating, awestruck face.

Suppressing this new urge to harm the kid, Tokken quickly threw himself off, stumbling towards Chloe, whose figure was hidden by four brutes.

“Ch—Chloe! Mph——!”

Though he tried to walk, his shakiness kept him on his knees. Before he could manage to stand, he had been kicked down by Mumble, who looked all-too pissed. Mumble called himself ‘Pride’ for good reason.

The boy pushed his shoe into Tokken’s hair, forcing his jaw onto the rough concrete.

“Oi, where do ya think you’re goin’? I’m the opponent, get it? What, think you’re big enough to just push me down and piss off, ah?!”

Mumble stomped his foot against his head. “Did ya think I was gonna be beat by that, bu-bub? Ah?!”

“Ch… Chlo…” Tokken clawed at the floor, trying desperately to move from his place. He wasn’t strong enough to budge the Urchin. Whenever he tried, his head was just pushed down harder.

“Don’t worry yaself with ‘er now! It’s us. Us! We’re fightin’, so cut that shit out!”

Tokken’s head was released, only for a kick to hit his abdomen. He coughed and wheezed but refused to get his eyes off those gangsters. Strangely enough, they weren’t drawing closer to her, or at least that’s what he thought. He could barely see.

Mumble straightened his back with a roll of his eyes. Looking at his mates, he hollered, “Oi, dippies! What’s takin’ so long? Don’t tell me ya killed the thing——”

“Fuckin’ Vicks, she’s a monster!” a thug among the four screamed.

“Agh!”

Two of the men yelled out in pain, and another was yanked closer to the Cryptid. Narrowing his eyes, Mumble gulped. He watched two of his lackeys run off like scared children, and a third get his ankle chewed on by a carnivorous beast he barely recognised. The last of the lot took a cautious step closer, hesitating to help his ally.

“Th’ fuck…?” ‘Pride’ mumbled. “Shit! Ay, we need more guys! Down, ya mutts! Help ‘im out! NOW!”

With his order issued, eight more of the hooligans dropped down from the walls while the others looked on, too intimidated to get involved. Mumble groaned as he watched the cowards look away.

“Really? Pussies, the lot. Hey.”

The boy reached down to grab Tokken’s hair, pulling his head up and flashing his dangerous teeth. “Mind explainin’ why the girl’s turned into that?”

Tokken looked just as shocked as the others, which proved that he wasn’t getting much news from him.

“And you’re useless. Fuckin’ great! You’re really pissin’ me off, ya know that?”

“Let... me go.”

“Ah? What’s that, bu-bub?”

Leering his face closer to the lad’s peripheral, Mumble displayed the raw caninity of his shark-like teeth.

Tokken’s voice shuddered. “Get off of me. She needs me.”

“Dude, she looks like she’s havin’ fun snacking on my guys. She’s a freak.”

The teen’s hand reached for the boy’s ankle.

“She’s just like a person.”

“Ya gal-pal’s a beast, man. Lay off,” Mumble growled, placing a hand on his knee so as to tighten his foothold. He had expected a hopeless combatant to try the same thing over and over until he keeled over, but what he didn’t expect was for the teen to use his left hand to suddenly grip Mumble’s long mess of a mane and pull down.

The yank just about did the trick, slipping his foot off his head and rolling off the ground. While his exit had been assured for the time being, Tokken knew that he just pissed the bull off proper.

Reality felt strange to the accursed teenager. Never before had he experienced the combined rush of fear and enthusiastic drive as he did now. Not even when he was chased by the wolves did he feel such conflicting yet pleasant thrills.

Good as it felt, it was no less dizzying either. Tokken’s eyes rolled back into his skull as he forced himself to his feet, rushing forth for the lost white smudge that hid somewhere in his vision. As soon as he took a step forward, a tight, sharp sensation wrapped around his ankle. His balance was thwarted as the razor wire that connected Mumble’s knives was swept from under him, lacerating his tender flesh with little remorse. Though he did shriek and grunt, Tokken stood shakily once more, showing a surprising amount of willpower.

Something wasn’t right though.

Mumble’s anger dissipated as he noticed the teen’s eyes. The look was so unclear. A mixture of frustration, hunger and a bizarre joy. With a grin that just didn’t fit the adolescent. Mumble’s spine rattled, forcing him to take an involuntary step backwards.

Though it took placing his injured foot down, Tokken leapt from his place, smashing a knuckle into those horrid teeth and tackling the crime lord against the concrete with much less guilt than last time. What’s more, the teen had shuffled his knife back into his grip, and as the two fell to the earth, so too did that demonic blade get forced down.

Mumble would’ve assuredly met his end had his own knife not managed to parry the weapon’s course, and by so little did he manage, too.

The two hit the ground with an ‘umph’, and in little time, the Drainer was brought back up and thrust so close to Mumble’s chest. With more time to react, the boy locked the blade between his two cleavers.

Tokken’s voice grunted and huffed as he tried in vain to use his strength against his sudden adversary, but a voice crack from the younger boy stopped him. Ceasing his act, the teen who couldn’t hurt a fly — the same one who was trying to kill a child, looked up at Mumble’s face.

Tears were forming in his eyes, his monstrous teeth grinding as he fought to live. His complexion only worsened as he said, “Did you... Are you tryin’ to kill a kid?!”

The last of the Tsuki line widened his eyes. He still only had half of his wits to him, but he could finally understand what he was doing. Before he could regret it, however, Mumble had slammed his temple hard enough to force him off. Tokken rolled a few feet but was stopped as a shoe smashed into his ribs.

He was kicked. He was stomped on. He was punched and battered. All by one little man, who cried out in anguish. Unadulterated wrath.

“I’m fifteen, ya sick freak! A little boy! How could ya?! How could ya?! Nobody gets to off me, ya hear?!” Mumble’s voice cracked as he shouted, practically sobbed his words. “Sick freak! Fuckin’ monster! Agatha’s the only person with a claim on my life! She gets to decide, not you, an’ not anyone else! Not even Enzel! Fuck you! Fuck you!”

Delirious from some internalised and unorthodox grief, Mumble continued his assault. Though the teen felt pity for him, the child wouldn’t relent. To die so young, the possibility alone had stirred something downright primitive within him.

The senseless beating wouldn’t persist forever. If it had, the Tsuki blood would’ve been spilt for the last time. No, instead, the beast with the snow coat burst from the gang of mobsters, cut, scraped and beaten but with a bloodied, foaming maw that told of its doings. The monster sprinted towards the boy on four legs, knocking him down with a powerful smash from its snout. Mumble was projected up and over Tokken’s mashed body, sent to roll. A short victory. The gangsters had quickly turned around to aid the lord, of which one had grossly disproportionate bulk. A giant.

“Shid, Mums!” the mass of a thug, Bruce, said, his torso and arms so thick an axe couldn’t cut through.

His fist slammed down hard upon Chloe’s back, pushing her down instantly. Her exhaustion and wounds had weakened her to a point she could hardly bring her jaws together, having pushed herself past the brink just to save the human she had befriended. The same human that saved her and brought her to health, at the cost of having to bear witness to this accursed society’s machinations. With every pinch of energy gone, she stayed flat, accepting fate.

“You okay, boss?” the behemoth slurred.

Several thugs, embarrassed from their fears, dropped down to seek vengeance against the unnatural animal that had shamed them. Those that approached Tokken stopped as ‘Pride’ raised his hand. The kid spat blood. One of his teeth had been pushed inwards and out of place, and as if it were even possible, he grew all the more frustrated.

“I’m alive, Bruce. Hands off 'im, the psycho’s mine,” Mumble said, rinsing his mouth with saliva.

The dimwit giant scratched his head; his fingers thick as this book. He said, “Which ‘un? They both crazy to me. Dog tried to eat me.”

Rolling his eyes, Mumble grabbed Tokken by the neck, lifting him up and placing one of his two daggers against his throat. As he did, he caught notice of a new silhouette standing by the entrance to this mongrel-infested alleyway. What’s more, the bricks lining the walls near where the figure stood had been stripped away, all without being heard. The ruckus must have quietened the act.

“Uh, Pride?” one of the thugs on the tall walls said.

Mumble’s eyes widened. He hadn’t the time to even shout a word before a shower of sharpened stones shot into his mates’ flesh, destroying their bodies in a matter of seconds. Everything they ever did so suddenly became irrelevant. Their reputation as the dangerous leeches they were—to be feared when walking the streets alone in the dark—meant as little as the excrement one stepped in last week in the face of this living hazard.

Mumble’s skin paled as he watched Bruce’s body drop, clutching to life and choking on blood. He had only lived because of the sheer amount of cushioning his bulk offered. He was lucky he hadn’t been cut through the head. Bruce’s survival would be unlikely, even so.

An endless silence where the crowd of miscreants just were. They were still there, of course, but far less a man or a woman than mere moments ago. Even those atop them had come quiet, save for their crimson spilling down the walls.

The man responsible just clapped. He clapped slowly, taking idle and simple steps towards the remaining survivors. Mumble hadn’t been touched by the massacre, protected by his enormous subordinate albeit unintentionally. The man came in with a simple gown; one adorned with the lion, sword and rifle emblematic of the Syndicate itself.

Mumble’s head felt heavier than concrete as he lifted his gaze to the man. His knife trembled in his hands.

The should-be Syndie said, “That was a sight! In the face of death, you spoke so dramatically! And you’re upset about theatrics? Isn’t that hypocritical?”

Tokken’s right eye had gone purple from the beating. He struggled to see in front of him, but he was thankful his bloodlust had been interrupted. The blade pressed into his throat lost tension, and he had the strength to push the razor metal off the danger zone. Mumble didn’t react.

“Ah, don’t be afraid. Time flies. No point just sitting there,” the man with the short smile said, turning to meet Tokken’s weak eyes. Chloe growled, not that it did much.

The man’s enthusiasm wasn’t shared. Those beneath him were frightened speechless; too young to die — as were most of the victims he slaughtered.

The young-ish man, Noire, sighed to himself, lifting his eyes skyward and pressing a palm onto his head. “You know, it’s depressing when you look so utterly scared. I kind of hate it. It makes me feel just awful. At least try to hide your feelings. Oh, forget it.”

Raising a carefree palm, a piece of rubble lifted into the air, spinning rapidly as if sharpened like a pencil. In seconds, the piece was made into a needle sharper than a sword and was brought closer to Mumble.

Noire's smile broadened as his finger was raised and reeled back. Mumble closed his eyes.

“Sweet dreams, scoundrel. May the hero win again——”

“——Wait…” Tokken pleaded, lifting an arm with some difficulty. “Don’t…”

The man’s grin curled down. He raised a brow. From where he stood, he looked like a tower to the fallen children. “Hm? Whatever’s your intention? I think that's pretty foolish. You can afford to stay yourself. What do you have to lose? If anything, you're making me more prone to attack you too. Let me pity you and move aside."

It took the teen a while to stand. His foot felt sharp when he put his weight on it, and his whole body ached. Tokken stumbled a bit, but finally, he stepped in front of both Mumble and Chloe and raised his arms, separating them from this new threat.

“He doesn’t deserve it,” Tokken said between ragged breaths.

“Is that right? He left you in a state," Noire said.

“Yes, but he didn’t want to kill us. Besides,” Tokken looked back at the boy, who couldn’t bring himself to even sit up as he lay there petrified, propped up by his arms. “I’m seventeen, so I’m technically his senior. It’s my responsibility. That’s how it works, right…?”

Noire’s wide eyes blinked as the teen laughed, wheezing from doing so. He could’ve easily had a lung collapsed, and yet here he stood. Whatever defensive stance he attempted was both ineffective and served little purpose. Why, a fly’s landing might cast him to the ground in his state.

The boy that had harassed, stepped on and beaten the teen was flabbergasted. To what end was he being protected? For what reason was his victim standing to face such a foe? Was it just for Chloe’s sake? Then, why did he speak to spare his life?

“Don’t worry,” Tokken said, noticing the canine drag herself in a futile attempt to stand. “I'll keep us safe. Just sit tight, okay? We have got to talk about this… transformation of yours later.”

He could barely see her, even as his delirium had passed. His swollen eye and exhaustion made understanding his sight a task. But he knew she had turned into something much larger and more ferocious than before. A beast in white, of similar nature to that that had chased the two in the forest.

Tokken turned back to the half-amused man. “What’s the matter, then?”

Noire tilted his head to see the kid. “Aren’t you worried he’ll stab your back?”

“No. Not at all. But don't worry about him. It's you and me now," Tokken said, a confident grin contesting Noire's own.

Never before had he faced such a danger. And what a rush it was.

The teen's breaths became shallow as the walls and floor surrounding the man crumbled and cracked, releasing shards that floated around his figure. Tokken swallowed his saliva, withdrawing the knife from his pocket once more, and flicking it open. A hopeless battle, but better this than laying down and dying.

"Dude… Get outta here…" Mumble muttered, pleading with the teen whose lungs ached because of him.

"I'll find you an opening. Can you lift Chloe?" Tokken ignored his suggestion, refusing to take his eyes off Noire.

Mumble stood up.

"Ya don't stand a chance. Let me deal with 'im."

The beaten young man chuckled. "We don't stand a chance, either of us. I can't run. You can. Please, get her to safety."

'Pride' grimaced. It made sense. If Tokken was sent to run, even in his best state, he wouldn't go far enough. And right now he would collapse in seconds.

Mumble put his hands under the Cryptid and tested her weight. She was a burden, but much lighter than she should be in her size.

"I'm sorry." Mumble looked down, picking the canine up and draping her over his small back to run off with her. The way he shuffled off looked awkward, but he managed to stay quick on his toes. Chloe wheezed out Tokken's name, but she was already out of hearing range.

With her safety secured, the teen's mind was put at ease. His nerves came back to haunt him. This was the end. "Alright, I guess this had to happen eventually. I mean, my luck so far's been a little too on point," Tokken said, exhaling little breaths of amusement. He was stalling the man, who stood silent, unmoving. He wanted the two to get away as far as possible, but he too wished to prolong his life if even just for a few seconds.

His Drainer shook in his grasp, but he held it tightly. That surreal adrenaline shot from earlier had gone away, and he could feel his wounds now. His body ached. His breathing hurt. His ankle itched. His head throbbed.

"Ah, boy…" the man finally said with a thrill that shook the teen. "That weapon you wield… Only a Tsuki should possess it. Are you him? The last one?"

Taking his bewildered state as an opening, the lad pushed through his pain and bolted towards the serial killer, his knife by his hip as he prepared a thrust.

A tear formed in Noire’s eye even as danger closed in.

“Oh, Tsuki… I’m so happy to see you,” he said with a tremor in his voice. Sidestepping the assault, Tokken’s arm was raised high and brought down in a fell swoop, twirling the teen off his shoes to smack the ground with a crack. “And you’re already using your weapon to some extent. I’m so proud of you.”

Noire’s finger wiped his weepy eye. “And for a moment, I truly thought I might’ve deviated from my path. I’m so thankful.”

Tokken cringed and groaned, clenching his eyes as the pains of uncertainty washed over him. He might’ve popped a bone, or easily fractured a rib. Had he damaged his spine he could end up paralysed. The thought alone made the teen cry out a slur.

“And yet, this unpleasant display of yours,” Noire lamented, shaking his head once, twice, several times more. “I don’t understand? This is a good thing. You have lost your way from the moment of your conception, that much I do know. But we can change that!”

The teen was plucked from the earth and brought to stand via forces he couldn’t understand, to then be clutched by the man’s powerful grip as Tokken’s feet gave immediately under him. Prying his eyes open, the lad was forced to see the iniquitous, over-enthused bloke’s face within inches of his.

“Do you remember, boy? Your role and purpose in the agreement long kept in your family line?”

Tokken, defiant, grabbed at the nutter’s collar with a tired arm. His exhausted mind could barely scrounge up the memories of his folk’s overbearing nature around him. He was too young at the time to have understood, even if he had been told the full extent of their heirloom’s conditions and origin.

His voice was barely a wheeze. “Nobody told me… I never got that treatment… They never spilled the truth…”

Noire’s head tilted. “Do you want me to make it all the more clear for you, Tsuki?”

Tokken’s head dropped back, his neck not strong enough to keep him up. As he slipped out of consciousness, he heard a fragment of the truth hidden to him for so long, told to him by a stranger he never wished to meet again.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

His chest felt damp as he stirred awake. He couldn’t see a thing, but his hand met with the soft fur he had come to recognise after their nights sleeping in the same twin-size bed. No matter how hard he tried, Tokken couldn’t fill his lungs by more than half of their capacity.

The teen steadily regained his senses, one by one. He could smell the oils and fumes and the waste and iron. He could hear quiet sniffles as he caressed the canine’s back.

“I survived…” he thought, smiling to a sky his eyes wouldn’t adjust to seeing. The lad was sticky with sweat, filth and blood. His white hair had been blotched with grey stains, of which the culprit sat solemnly on the wall opposite the two.

Even if he wanted to, Tokken couldn’t see him.

“You’re awake, ah? Now, why don’t ya start speakin’ for me?” Mumble demanded from his corner. Tokken’s actions made no sense to either of the three. Even the sweet-natured Chloe doubted she would’ve taken her charity so far.

Tokken coughed. “What do you mean…?”

“Why’d ya do that, damn it? An’ how’re ya still breathin’?! Tell me or I’ll cut ya.”

“Stop it!” Chloe pleaded, unable to protect her friend as the boy stood ominously above his saviour. His victim.

“Tell me first! What do ya want from me, ah?! What’re ya bribin’ for? What’re tryin’ to take from me?!”

The teen’s eyes pried open a crack. His sight doubled and bounced. It was nauseating. “I sincerely… Didn’t want anything from you…”

Grinding his teeth, Mumble spat out the tooth that was punched in, drawing blood that trickled off his lip and down to his chin. “Ya make no sense. Ya make no fuckin’ sense. Ya must be…” Mumble took a step back. His eyes widened. The chance scared him. “...some kinda Anomaly, right?”

Tokken chuckled, choking on his takes of air. A tear fell down his cheek as his eyes closed to rest. He truly understood nothing of this world. “I don’t even… know what that means…”

“With this dagger, you will stay alive. With this dagger, you will be safe, even amid the crimson sect. But listen to me boy, this is important. You have to do this. All you have to do in exchange is spill the blood of the corrupt Guardian upon its blade so that peace may find us indefinitely. It might be difficult but you have to do it. It doesn’t have to be as painful as you think. Let it guide you, and work to understand how it is meant to be used. There are several places that will make swift work. He will appreciate it once you’re done; trust me, boy. Trust me. You just have to spill his blood.”