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Through the cracks of the enormous stadium, wind whispers over flames and bodies. Warriors encircle around a single point- two men, nearly equal in bulk and in mass, but perhaps not in wit. The people of the hamon tribe cheer on their warrior, and Wamuu’s masters watch just behind. The prize in this battle is not their ultimate fruit, of course, but one small step closer to obtaining it. A lead to its location- the hamon warriors are a proud group, after all, and will hold their promise in the case of their warrior’s death. In return, should Wamuu fail this trial, he will perish- and that is a boon to their opponents.
The warrior of the wind sits at a wooden table nicked with knives and made sticky with dried up booze. On it are two bronze cups- holding just a bit of wine each, the hamon warrior presents him with the challenge of choosing just one. A single glass is supercharged with hamon, and the other lies laced with poison lethal to a human, and harmless to a creature like the pillar man. One he will choose, and the other he will leave to his opponent.
As the warrior across from him, donned in his gold and his robes, shows his teeth in a knowing smirk- Wamuu stares stone-faced as ever into the glass. His lords stand behind him, one gazing up to the moon and the other snickering at the simplicity of their game. Meanwhile, the other warriors cry and roar and do what they can to disrupt Wamuu’s concentration.
However, every sound but the wind ceases when its tamer raises one glass. He takes it- looking down into its contents, and turns his eye back up to the man across from him. “The rules of our battle say nothing against my inspection of the glasses, correct?”
The human sharing their table nods. Wamuu raises the cup, and he sniffs it. Holding it beneath his nose for just a moment- he hums, and then returns metal to wood. He repeats this process once again, and gently returns this one to its place. With his back straight and a breeze beneath his headpiece, he places one hand neatly into his lap. Then, he takes the first cup, and holds it in his hand.
Both parties grow silent. The pillar men and hamon warriors look on at their soldiers as Wamuu takes one glass, and his counterpart takes the other. A look crosses between them. One will die, and the other will seize his victory, and it will have been done so with honor between them.
They drink.
With one swig, they down their wine and return their vessels to the table. The wind stops.
The hamon warrior falls with a slow, quiet thunk to the ground, and Wamuu stands from his place. There is the usual outcry from the fallen man’s bretheren, but they know too well that they will lose their lives to Wamuu or Esidisi if they make any attempt to dishonor their deal. So a cold faced warrior relays information of the stone’s whereabouts.
As his masters begin their departure, Wamuu pushes in the chair of the fallen warrior. The others hold their breaths, waiting for the towering beast to devour their comrade. But, he lifts him from the dirt, and delivers his lukewarm body to the nearest live one.
“Ensure that he receives a proper burial.” He offers to them, and takes his leave.
On the outskirts of the battleground he catches up to his masters. They pause for him, offering a nod to the head. Esidisi smacks a hand onto his shoulder and lets out a rattling laugh. “Great job! Now we know where the stone’s heading, if we can get there in time, we might be able to snatch it.” He congratulates his junior. They walk silently through the dark, moving with the breeze to the ruins of their hideout. “But tell me- how did you know which cup had hamon and which didn’t? I couldn’t smell any poison.”
Wamuu hums yet again. “I could not either.”
The warrior of flame blinks. “Did you really just guess?” He asks. “That’s unlike you.”
“One of the cups had a human poison, but both had been charged with hamon. So even if I had chosen correctly, I would have been assumed to perish, and his fate would have ridden upon my decision.” He points to his lip. “I replaced the antidote on my lip with a ring of death- and as I pretended to smell the wine, I bit through, and the poison was released. So either way, he would die. I would not have cheated if he had not deceived me first.”
“Oooh, I see. Clever as always.” Esidisi rubs his chin and places his other hand over his hip. Then, he stops entirely. “Wait- you said both cups were laced with ripple energy though, didn’t you?”
Wamuu pauses alongside his master. Kars continues on without them. “Indeed they were.”
“...So you drank it?”
“Yes.”
The elder warrior’s lips curl downward. “Well are you alright? Doesn’t it hurt?”
Wamuu turns his head up a bit, and shakes it. “Do you think that so little hamon will wound me? I am not so weak, my lord.”
“Yeah yeah, just don’t overestimate yourself.”
...
Wamuu sits that night on his watch, listening and scanning for their enemies who may come here to avenge their brother. Humans live so hard and die so fast, one man’s father falls to him, then his son, but they breed so quickly that the chain of revenge just cannot end. It’s tiring. So tiring, in fact, that he leans over on his perch high above the place where his masters rest, slumping ever so slightly. A battle so simple shouldn’t tire him so much, but he had ingested hamon... Maybe Esidisi would be willing to look after he and Kars for the night.
He finds himself thinking that it is quite cold, and then loses consciousness.
...
When his eyes open again, he jolts up, believing that he had fallen asleep on watch. But beneath him is not stone, but downy cloth.
“Do not stir.” A voice commands him, and it is his instinct to obey. Wamuu sits up in his place but moves no further. Before he can look about, another set of eyes makes itself apparent to him.
“What did I tell you? You shouldn’t have drank that.” Esidisi jeers at him, pinching at his nose and shaking it. “You passed out and fell a good forty feet before you hit the ground. You look even worse than when we grabbed you out of the dirt.”
Wamuu’s head spins, and he can barely make out his master scolding him. A dark cloud approaches him, and he turns to face it.
“Are you alright?” The wave of darkness asks him. Wamuu opens his mouth, and something comes out.
...
“Remove your face from the dirt Wamuu. Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time this has happened.”
Kars airs out his soiled robes, dipped in the stream and washed as best they could be of the ludicrous amounts of vomit that they had been soaked in. A man so huge had a stomach to match.
Wamuu sits on his hands and knees, and his sweat-soaked flesh draws dirt onto it and pulls the dust tight to his skin. “Forgive me, my lord.”
Esidisi pulls the stitches out of his sides and sighs off his laughter. “You don’t have to apologize. Get up, you’re making a mess of yourself now.”
Wamuu nods his head, then makes to push himself up. But he quivers, and falls face-first into the dirt. He puffs, and scratches at the ground, and finds his strength leaving him. He tries to summon the wind to lift him up- but no more than a breeze trickles over his already cold body. He struggles, ashamed.
“Kars.” Esidisi calls over to the other elder. “This is bad.”
“I’m alright.” Wamuu sputters. “I’m merely... Dizzy...” He dry heaves, but there is nothing to empty from his belly.
Kars looks down at him, and Wamuu hides his dirtied face in shame. Then he turns again to Esidisi. “Take him back to my bed. Do what you are able for him- I shall keep watch for the next several hours.”
Wamuu surges upwards, pushing his chest from the earth. “There is no need my lord, I can do it, just-” He shivers, lets out a horrid wretch, and falls back to the ground. “Do not... Put yourself into harm’s way...”
He is powerless to fight as Esidisi lifts him over his shoulders like a fussy toddler. His lords seem to ignore him, and the warrior of heat nods to the warrior of light. “Got it. You be careful.” He waves, and chucks away a faux-leaf covering leading to their underground home.
Pebbles bounce down the shallow dirt stairwell into their makeshift home. Torches illuminate their spoils of war, jewels and ivory glittering in firelight. Esidisi steps over a priceless rug, woven by a people to the east, lying on the dirt floor. It would never last within their spanse of time, anyhow. He enters one of three small chambers connecting to the main one, and carries the heaving Wamuu inside.
Kars has the softest bed of them all. Wamuu and Esidisi’s bodies are far further hardened, and would be just as comfortable on a bed of nails as a bed of down. But for this case, a comforting place to lay is much preferred. An attempt is made to set him down gently, but to say that he is anything less than flopped onto the bed would be false. The tied-together frame creaks, but holds his weight.
Even now, Wamuu continues to fight. He is not one to argue against his masters- but in such a state, he can hardly think clearly. “My lord, at least allow me to rest in my own bed-” He tries to sit up, but is promptly pushed down by a single finger. “I cannot take from lord Kars, I’ll be alright in a few minutes.”
When he gets up a second time, Esidisi snaps his torso to the bed with his veins. Wamuu can barely even wiggle against them. His master tuts, and places his other hand on one hip. “Orders from lord Kars, I have to let you sleep here.” He drawls. Bending down, he removes the younger man’s headpiece, drenched in sweat and god knew what else. On the way, he feels the other’s forehead with the back of his palm. Letting out a long whistle, he balls up the soiled cloth. “You really did mess up. You need to stay in that bed and focus on letting your body work out that hamon energy. If you try to strain yourself... Well, I don’t want to think about what could happen.”
Wamuu grimaces, knitting his brows together and pulling his lips down tight. “My lord, I have duties to perform. I cannot lie about in bed while the stone is out there.”
“Your duties are relieved.” Esidisi balks back at him. Then, he sits on the edge of the bed, keeping the younger restrained. “Rest. Kars knows a lot about how these bodies we have work- he and I may be able to find out what’s going on with you. For now, your body is just going to work it off by itself.”
The ailing man still wishes to protest, but his mouth hardly opens. He shudders, and even though he is sweating, he feels near to frozen. The creaking bed notes this, and an aurochs’ pelt is tossed over Wamuu’s body. This eases him, if only enough to rest.
But, it is not peaceful, as he tosses and turns in his struggle. Not only is his body fighting the hamon that bounces off and around his organs, but his mind fights his own feelings of worthlessness. Sick? He didn’t get sick, only little children and humans became sick. He, Wamuu, warrior of the wind- did not lie about in bed.
He hears whispers, but cannot quite understand them, or move to open his eyes. There is a faint and gentle touch to his lips- and he is bid to open them. It is the only order that he can follow. Drink, the voice tells him, and so he does. It is horrid. Disgustingly horrid, and he spits it back up immediately upon drinking. But the gentle voice bids him more, and brushes his sweat from his brow. He cannot disobey this nearly loving call- and so for it, he downs the disgusting mixture.
“Do you think that will help?”
“This substance should absorb some of the hamon, yes. But it cannot heal the damage already done to his organs.”
“Is it gonna kill him?”
“It very well could. This is not unlike a disease entering a body lesser than ours. This is a battle that no amount of wit or muscle can win for him.”
“Poor kid.” A pause. “You’re going to be alright. Kars and I will make sure of it.”
Everything goes dark again.
For an eternity he tosses and he turns. Esidisi watches over him, coming with more of the vile medicine. He cannot help but spit some of it back up- his stomach tosses and turns, and he apologizes through long wheezes. But.. Somehow, his masters seem to understand. Wamuu does not wish to be cared for or whispered to or to have his hair brushed out of his face, and it’s more frustrating to him than anything else that he cannot just get up and fight!
“Wamuu.” A different voice comes to him, be it morning or dusk, he cannot tell. “Can you hear me?”
“...Yes, lord Kars.” The younger answers. Kars sits beside him, hair loosely falling from his head scarf. Esidisi must be on watch now, he thinks. But it is hard to look at his master in this state.
“How do you feel?” His lord asks.
“...Bad.” Wamuu tells him point blank.
His elder hums, and pulls pulls something from the floor. He pours from a pot into a cup, and Wamuu dreads another dose of his medication. Steam rises in wisps from the ceramic vessel as Kars stands, drawing closer to his servant’s face. “This is no more of your medicine. Relax yourself.” He murmurs. “This is a tea, plain and simple. It will not heal your wounds, but at the very least, it shall soothe you.” He sets the cup to Wamuu’s lips- and is denied.
Wamuu looks away, refusing to open his mouth. He shudders again, and inhales the warm liquid’s scent. He recalls the reason why he is here, suffering. The battle- and the information that they had gained. He starts up from the bed, just nearly knocking the tea from Kars’ hand.
“My lord-” The younger wheezes. “The stone is due to be in rome tomorrow, we have to go...” He slumps back down. “I have to go get it... I can’t lie here anymore.”
“The stone can wait, Wamuu.” Kars tells him.
“Are you crazy?” The sick warrior barks in a tiny voice. “We know when and where it is arriving, we have to go, I’ll be al-”
“Silence.”
He is silent.
Kars sets the tea to the side, and reaches over. A thin breath escapes his non-breathing lips as he wipes the sweat from Wamuu’s brow. He resettles a fur blanket over him, and lays a hand over his heaving chest. “Now settle yourself.” He commands in a voice too soft for a domineering lord. But Wamuu obeys it.
“Listen to me now.” The elder of them breathes. “Beneath our very feet, there may be a cavern filled to the walls with the stone that I seek. There could be a super aja for every land on earth. But in all the world, and in all of time, there is only ever going to be one Wamuu.” He speaks just below the sound of the flickering torches around them. “Perhaps your duty is to die for me. But, I cannot say that it would bring me joy if you did.”
He picks up the tea again. “Now, take this.”
Wamuu opens his mouth, and drinks. The tea cools his mouth but warms his aching belly. He shuts his eyes, then reopens them pointed to his master. “Thank you, Lord Kars.”
He is given no more than a small hum in return. Shortly after, a loud knock comes at the door, and Esidisi invites himself in. Kars stands, and they exchange a nod, trading places.
Esidisi turns to Wamuu, and opens his mouth wide to exclaim something, but the words die in his throat. He meets a face hiding tears behind a wide hand.
“What the hell did he say to you?”