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"Eiji... why?!" Ankh'd screamed as Eiji brought the Megadabryu down onto his impostor, shattering three of his Medals. Shattering his hope. The only reason why he'd put up with that overgrown 5 year old was because he had an unnatural talent for finding Medals. That was it. He could've trashed him long ago, and now, he has valid reason to do so. Eiji'd taken three of his Medals along with his impostor.
Ankh gasps as the three Cores splinter into red shards. Unfixable red shards. Darned Eiji. Darned purple Medals. As Ankh recovered from the dreadful shock and regained the detective's body, Eiji stared at him in anger. In rage. He blabbering some crap about Ankh being selfish and robbing Hina of Shingo. He tells Ankh to give him back to Hina. If not for the purple Medals inside him, the Greeed would have long grabbed him and thrown him into the wall.
Bitterness gnawed his chest, the desperate feeling that this was all fake. This couldn't be real, could it? His idiot, his Eiji, had snatched away his hope.
Ankh was laughing inside, laughing and guffawing at the cruel irony that Eiji had done - Eiji wanted to help people. To be the hand that they could reach out to if they needed help. Eiji was supposed to be their hope. And yet, when Ankh needed Eiji the most, Eiji'd taken away his hope.
Those eyes, cold and black and dead, stared him down, burrowing into the depths of his soul. And for a moment, Ankh remembers. How innocent Eiji was when he'd first received the Driver. Eiji didn't abuse it. Eiji saw it as a tool to help others. The King, on the other hand... Ankh could still remember every fine detail of that triumphant smile when he'd put it on. The King seemed to admire every curve, every design on the Driver in such a sick way. The King used its power excessively, and in the end, it was what turned him into that lifeless stone coffin that had sealed then away for 800 years.
Ankh knows, deep inside that he doesn't want Eiji to become like him. He doesn't want Eiji to abuse the power that he'd been bestowed. But this time, it wasn't the OOO Driver. It was those purple Medals. Eiji would never have gotten as far as he was today if those purple Medals hadn't entered him in the first place. He would never have been able to defeat all those Yummies, smash so many Cores. Ankh knew, that each time Eiji used their power, he'd lose a fragment of his humanity, slowly turning into a blind monster. A monster who wouldn't hesitate to use those Medals.
A monster that wouldn't hesitate to use his power.
For a moment, it described the King so well that Ankh couldn't bite back a long trill of laughter. Eiji isn't the King. Gotou had told the brunette straight in the face, last time that he didn't deserve to be OOO. He didn't deserve the power. He listens as Eiji spews nonsense about helping others in need.
The King had never been so noble in what he desired.
*
Eiji's eyes ignited with a purple flame. Ankh was instantly on his guard. For that split second, he didn't even know what separated Eiji from the King anymore. And then, something sharp struck Ankh in his torso. Letting out a shrill cry, Ankh turned his gaze back slowly. The King was standing behind him as TaToBa, the tiger's claws sinking through his midsection, poking out of the other side. In between those claws were the Medals. Tajador.
Wait a minute. The King didn't have those smoldering purple eyes. The King didn't have that placating face. The King didn't have that familiar look of that underwear-obsessed idiot.
The human hand retreated back to its owner. "I told you, Ankh," the brunette said, his words sounding slurred to Ankh. "If you didn't give Shingo back, I'd break every single one of your Cores." Holding up the first Core, Eiji held it between his hands. Ankh grimaced as the pressure increased, and with a final sickening crack, the Medal split in half. Ankh managed to get a screeching yowl out of his lips. He feels as though someone had spilled his organs, even though his skin was intact.
He doesn't want Eiji to become like the King. He rested a trembling hand on Eiji's shoulder as another Medal was snapped. Four Medals left. Groaning, Ankh dug his fingernails into Eiji's shoulder. "S-Stop..." he could barely force the words out. "Do-Don't do this. Those M-Medals...they give you t-the means...but t-they take a-away y-your purpose..." He couldn't even last this long. He wanted to throw himself against the wall now, to curse himself for his weakness.
~
"Ankh... what happens if a Greeed's Core holding their consciousness is snapped?" Eiji had asked him, long ago. "They'd cease to exist." Ankh had snarked back. Eiji smiled his toothy smile, one that he only reserved for Ankh. "Okay. So they'd die. Thanks, Ankh!"
~
Stupid, stupid, stupid Eiji. A pile of Medals could die? That was the most naive thing Ankh had ever heard in his long, long life. Eiji's eyes are no longer purple. "Ankh..." he swallowed. "What have I done?" The broken bits of the Medals rested in his palm. Ankh watched as the idiot's eyes widened.
Both human and Greeed said nothing, letting the tears fall.
*
Eiji fought his Medals back as he stared at Ankh's cracked Taka Medal. "Ankh... why?" The smile that had stretched across his face so many times was slowly crossing his face now. The brunette nodded. "I get it. If that's what you want..." He looks at Ankh one more time. He seemed to be unaware that Ankh could see his radiant, glorious smile from his Core. He placed Ankh's Medal in the Driver. "We'll do this. Together. Ne, Ankh?"
The brunette could not describe how relieving it was to call out in familiar Japanese, "Henshin!" with all the courage and confidence that swelled in his chest. This time, though, Ankh's voice calls out the names of the Medals.
"Taka! Kujaku! Condor! Tajador!"
Ah.
And then they fly.
~
Buteo. j jamaicensis is probably one of the most famous types of Red-Tailed hawk in the United States. It is common, yet highly praised for its distinctive red feathers on its tail. Some individuals may learn to ambush rabbits on the ground with a swift surprise approach and capture them before they can accelerate to full speed. Some have learned to swoop down like falcons to challenge harder prey such as pheasants. Buteo. j jamaicensis, however, do not give up prey easily, often fighting with the falconer for another piece of meat before grudgingly giving up their kill. When it flies, the hawk flaps its wings rapidly, and then uses that momentum to glide smoothly and gracefully through the air. The beautiful flight pattern has earned them the respected title of the most beautiful hawk in the world.